The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1866-01-05
Miseellaneons.
TROT---A CHRISTMAS STORY.
By S. ANNIE FROST.

Iopcncd my sleepy eyes rs the conductors
voice rang through the cars, and, taking my
littlc carpet bag, sprang out upon the platform
Of the little station. My brief holiday was
over, and, with a shrug, prepared for my
short walk through the morning air, looking
forward to the good fire and cup OF coilec was
sure Mrs. Watson was keeping for me.
IL was rare event Tor me to leave the little
village whose name heads this story. My ia'
ther had been the only resident physician there
from the time when | was Il boisterous school
boy up To the hour when, in his professional
rounds. he fell dead with heart disease in the
main street, leaving me, his heretofore assist
ant, sole heir to his name, property and prac.
tice. Ten years before they had carried my
dear mother to the little churchyard, and in
stalled Mrs. Watson hOusekeeper in her place.
The villagers were willing to let the young doc
tor step into his fathers place beside their sick
beds. and SO for five years had filled his duties.
In all those five years had taken no holiday,
80 when an invitation came from my old friend
and since correspondent, Clement Payne. to
spend Christmas with him, at his fathers place
on the Hudson, was sorely tempted to accept
and finally concluded to do go. IL was literally
Christmas spent, leaving home at midnight
on the 9th, and my friends house exactly
twenty four hours later. II had been pleas
ant break in the monotony Of my life, and as
stood at sunrise on the Hopedale station plat
form, was sure my recreation would give me
new yigor for my daily duties.
As turned to descend tho steps leading to
the road, some impulse. nay Providence. led
me to look in at the window OF the room, by
courtesy Ladies' Room" Of the station. IL
was cold and desolste. No 6re was lighted,
and there was no furniture, unless the hard
wooden benches against the walls could bc 81
denomina,ed. But curled up on one OF those
benches, sleeping soundly, lay strange child
His dress of rich fur-trimmed velvet, the warm
fur cap. long gaiters and mittens spoke OF
wealth and care, and the pale face, round which
clustered short curls of sunny brown, was round
with health and wonderfully beautiful. lie
was no IIopedale child; knew them all. My
professional instinct made my heart thrill with
sudden shock, as caught sight Of the pale
face. for we'll knew the danger Of that deep
sleep in the biting winter air. How long had
he been there? Was he already dead? werc
the questions asked myself as strobe across
the room. and lifted him in my arms. There
Was no breath came from the white lips, no
throb at the wrist, only faint, very faint tlut-
tering under my fingers rs pressed them over
the baby heart. Man;ling hlm warmly in my
heavy cloak, tore down the steps and raced
along tho road homcward ut pace that would
have considerably amazed my patients, had any
of them been awake at that early hour.
Allowing Mrs. Watson no time for amaze
mcnt, | pressed her into service, and in what
she called "a jiffy,". had the little form un
dressed, in my bed, undergoing the most viGor'
ous treatment. 1t was so long before we were
successful that my heart almost failed mo. but
at last the faint heart throbs grew stronger ;
color came to the pale lips and checks, and u
pair of large brown eyes appeared from under
the heavily fringcd lids had watched 80 anx-
iously,
Only look of sleepy inquiry was visible, as
no stared moment ut me, then obcying my or.
der to drink the warm food Mrs. Watson held
to his lips, my little patient closed his eyes
again, and turned over tn finish his nap. lie
was saic now, knew so leaving him to Mrs.
Watson's care. who nv this time knew as much
about him Us did, | went to sleep myself, IL
be ready for the days duties.
Ii was nearly nine O'Clock when my house
keeper reused mo to say that breakfast was
ready and the child awake.
Very wide awake I found him, the glorious
brown eyes staring round my room, taking IN
every detail of its arrangement.
"Who are you? How did get here? Am
I nearly at Australia? Who's that man in the
pic,urc?" were the questions poured rapidly
forth, before had time to frame one inquiry.
al wan, to get up! Who's got my clothes?
came next: then, "Who put me to bed with
out any nGhtgown"
Not "a sign OF fear or word OF homcsick'
ness 7 I was puzzled.
"what is your name?" asked, sitting down
beside him.
"Tro,! Iwant to get up" :,
"iou shall get up in minute, but hrst tell
me your name, and how you came to be asleep
in the station?"
"My names Trot; and the plaguy cars start
cd of without me when rot out. IL was q
dark night and could not catch them so
went into the room and went to sleep till they
came again" =,
"wss your mother in the train-in the
carr"
"No; nobody but just me. Fm going to
Australia"
"Going to Australian"
eyes; Ellen's there! They have roses there
Mt Christmas, and We wanted some Tor our
tree"
"Bu,, my child, you did not leave home
alone?"
"Yes did I amt afraid! I'm going back
right away, rs soon us | find Ellen and set the
roses"
"But don't you know you will have TO sail
in a great ship for months to get to Austrai.
LAP"
"Ellen went in the cars. We saw her 60.
mamma and |. We went in the carriage and
said good by, and she got into the cars with
Mr.. " iilians."
"who Is Mr.. williams?" I said eagerly
catching at namo.
"Eilcns husband. Our milkman no was.