The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1864-07-25
MISCELLANY.
THE DIAMOND RING.
.as the nipht before Christmas.
BY AMY RANDOLPH.


II was the night before Christmas.
Dark and over clouded, with white gusts OF
drifting snow and raw air, which insiDuated it. |
eelf into every fold of the most voluminous
wrappings. A night WHICH was uncomforts-
BILE enough to the rich, but dreadful TO the
poor.
Mr.. Almayne did not observe the little blue
nosed boy, crouching In the angle formed by
the brilliantly illuminated plate glass window,
IS he sprang from his carriage aud went slow
ly across the pavement, into the bright throng-
ed shop. How should he? But little Ben
Morrow's eyes, eager with the sickiy light oil
starvation, took in every detail oil the rieh
mans equipage' and his purple fingers clasped
one another tighter as he looked.
Oh, he thought, how nice it mnst be TO be
rich--to have cushioned carriages, and big red
fires, and mince pies every day. Oh! l wish
/ were rich.
And Ben shrank closer into,his corner, as
the wind futtered his thin, worn garment, and
lifted the curls, with freezing touch, from his
forehead.
Nor did Mr.. Almayne observe him again,
when he entered his carriage, drawing on his
expensive fur gloves, and leaning among the
velvet cushions with sigh scarcely less earn
est than little Ben's had been.
The child's ideal OF q big fire would have
been quite realized Ii he could have seen the
scarlet shine that Illuminated Mr.. Almayne's
luxurious drawing rooms that night, glowing
softly on giided tables, alabaster vases, and
walls of rose and gold. While just before the
genial flame, the pale widower sat, thought
fully watching the Pickering spires of green
amethyst light, and very lonely in his splendid
solitude!
wonder what made me think of home just
then, he murmured, Idly tapping his foot upon
the velvet rug. / wonder what alchemy con-
iured up the old house under the walnut trees,
ArA ibid willow
branches swept the water-the bridge where
little Clara Willis used to sit aud study her
lessons, while angled vainly for the fishes
that never would bite How lovely she was,
that golden haired girl, with her blue-veined
forehead, and dark, downcast eyes! was
very much in love with Clara Willis, in those
boy and girl days. / should like to know on
what shore the waves of time have cast her
barque-it is not often that persons one has
known in lang syne, vanish so entirely, and
utterly from ones horizon. Poor Clara-what
gilttering air-palaces we build in the future
how solemnly we plighted our childish troths |.
And when | came back with the fortune on
whose golden colonades our fairy castle OF
happiness upreared its pinnacles-she was
gone. And Mary was a good wife to me, and
q true-but she was not Clara Willis,
As the thought passed through his brain,
he instinctively glanced down at the finger
upon which he wore the betrothal gift of his
dead wife-the ring was gone.
Lost-it can't be lost, he murmured to him
self, trying to think when aud where he had
last observed it. Can 1t have dropped from
my finger without my knowledge9 / must
notify the police at once, and have 1t adver-
tised Poor Mary's ring-I would not lose it
for twice its value, and that would be no
mean rnmi
II was a narrow and murky little street
with here and there q dim lamp faring feebly
rnh ha NH ta n1.o anrftx -..f ha rsrfp
snow; but little Ben Morrow knew every
one Of its wrapped iagstones by heart, and
ran whistling down the alley-way of a tai
weather-stained building, undaunted by wind
or tempest.
See, sis, what jolly glove I've found be
calculated, diving suddenly into a narrow
doorway, and coming upon tiny room, only
half lighted by a kerosene lamp, beside which
sat woman busily at work. Halloo! is the
fire out?
Wrap this old shawl about you, Ben, sale
the woman, looking up with a smile that par
took more OF tears than mirth, and you won
mind the cold SO much. Every coal is gone
and can't buy any more unit am paid fo
these caps. Did you sell any matches?
Not two papers, sighed the boy. was s,
cold, Ciara-I couldn't go round to the hous
esl
Well, never mind, Benny, she said cheer
fully. Sit close to me, dear-we'l keep eacl
other warm. Oh, Benny! should like I,
have given you nice new coat for Christ
mas.
Don't cry, sis, said the boy, leaning hi
head against her knee. Didn't you give IN,
your shawl for comforter, only lost It, tina
windy day? You are just as good and swee
as you can be, Clara, and love you just a
well as II you were my whole sister instea
of only half one.
She smiled through her tears.
What was II about glove Ben?
He srpang up suddenly as If in remember
4 gentleman dropped it 10 the street.
ran af.er the carriage, but 1t went too ia.
for me TO catch up. Isn't it nice, sis?
Very, Ben.
She drew the fur glove abstractedly on he
chill hand, and looked at the rich dark fur
Why Ben, what's this?
For her touch had come in contact wit
something In the little finger of the glove
ana she drew IL out Even by the dim ligh
or the lamp she saw the myriad spaIklin
angles Of . diamond ring.
The gentleman must have drawn il of wit
his glove, she said, while Ben stood by, !
open-mouthed surprise and delight Ber
this Is very yaluable--we ought o return
to the owner at once.
But how can we, If we don't know who b
is? said Ben.
II will be advertised, dear; every efoi
VIII be used to recover SO valuable iewe
tomorrow morning you must ask the news
man TO lend you paper for live minutes, an
We viii look at the advertisements.
Sister, said Ben Morrow, under his breatl
Is It very valuable? is it worth an hundret
dollars?
More than that, Ben-why?
Ga, Clara, he sobbed, burying his face i
her lap, huadrei dollars would be SO nice
wish it wasn't wrong 10 keep it.
Clara did not answer-she only smoothe
down her little brothers tangled curls, an
he never knew how hard 1t was for her to keel
back her own tears.
Mr.. Amayne was walking impatiently u
and down his long, glittering suite OF room
In the Christmas brightness of the next day
noon, when his portly footman presented hin
sell, like respectable, motionless statue i
the doorway.
e. Well, Porter.
There's young person aud little boy dow
stairs, sir, about the advertisement.
Ask them 10 walk in, Porter
Porter glanced obviously at the velve
chairs and Wilton carpet.
They're very shabby and muddy, sir?
Never mind; show them in.
Porter departed, by no means pleased, an,
IN a mi mute or two threw open the door, an,
announced-The young person and the littl
boyi
Be seated, said Mr.. Almayne, courteously
Can you give me any information in regard +
the ring have lost?
Ben Morrow's sister was wrapped in worl
shawl, with thick, green veil over her face
She held out the fur glove, and within il lit
tie paper box, from which blazed the whit
IRE OF the lost ring.
My brother foundit In this glove, last night
sir, she said, In low, timid voice. The init
als-M. A.--correspond with your advertise
ment, so we brought ii at once TO the stree