Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1866-01-04
THREE OF A TRAD E
little Red Ariss Kringle.
By FITz JAMES o'BR1EN.


The city was muffed in snow and looked
rs calm and pale and stately as a queen in
her ermine robes 1t was night, and the
tinkling Of innumerable sleigh bells, made
the frosty air musical The sleighs them
selves sped silently through the streets,
painted blackly against the white snow, as
they passed like so many phantoms, winging
their way to festival on the Broken noun
tain.
1t was late for the corner groceries were
shut. The last draught of poison had been
drained over the counter. The last victim
had staggered home to his trembling wife
The red, unwholesome light that fared over
the door, had been extinguished, and the
barkeeper was snoring in his bed behind
the -four barrels.
In the bleak shelter afforded by the pro-
jecting wooden awning of one of the corner
groceries in Greenwich street, close to
where that thoroughfare nears the river,
and huddled up against the side Of the large
coal bin that stood hasped and padlocked
near the entrance, two little figures were
visible in the dim glimmer of the night.
Two little children they were, sitting with
their cold arms embracing each other, their
chill cheeks pressed together, and their large
q weary eyes looking out hungrily into the
blank street.
Down by the wharves they saw the
tall, slender, masts of ships piercing the sky
like the serried lances of sonm band of gi-
gantic Cossacks. Among the black hulks, a
few late lights still shone, and the air rung
occasionally with the voice Of some drunken
a sailor, who from a friendly doorstep, where
he had inv oluntarily cast anchor, chanted
his experiences Of young West Indian Ia
dy of color, who reioiced in the horticultu-
raj name of Nancy Banana.
Presently mystic music seemed to fall
from the arched skies upon the city. 1t was
the chimes fro n old Trinity ringing the Old
Year out and the New Year in.
The thrilling notes of the changes follow
ing each other in measured flow, vibratad
through the air like music made by the feet
of marching angels. They jubilantly SEEM
ed to scale the slope of heaven The wild,
1nelodious clangor loated over the great,
silent city. Myriads of aerial Moors, clash
ing their cymbals, seemedlBo march over the
housetops. The clock was trembling on the
stroke of twelve, and time had one foot al
ready in the territories of the New Year.
''Tip listen to the bells, " said one of the
two children who were huddled beneath the
grocery awning, speaking in faint voice,
though clear, like bell heard in fog,
'lists2I 1t is time for Kriss Kringle to
come"
Tips cold lips opened and nothing issued
therefron but . low, plaintive ''I'm hungry
Binnie."
$50 am l." said Binnie with sort of far
off cheeriness, as if his heart were at con-
siderable distance, and could communicate
only family. "But let us wait. Perhaps
Kriss Kringle will bring us something nice.
What would you like most, Tip?"
'sCoffee and cakes wouldn't be bad'' said
Tip hesitaungly, as if rather afraid Of the
consequences if he allowed his Imagination
to run away with him.
.'0ra plate of roast beef rare, with po-
tatoes and peach pie,' suggested the more
AFa reckless Binnie, '.iust such mother used
to give usson Sunday. Poor mother! %
''What are we going TO do tomorrow,
Binnie' to get some money!"
'tShovel show off the stoops," answered
Binnie resolutely. s'We'H go into Union
Square early, and ask all around at the
houses whether they want the sidewalk
cleared. Some of EN- are sure to give us q
quarter We might make fifty cents, and
then wouldn't we have time %
"When we were living in the country
with mother, what fun We used to have on
New Years." said poor little Tip, creeping
up closer to Binnie with SILVER, for the
night was getting very cold, and few large
snow-hakes had commenced falling straight
down from the feecy sky, white as the man
ma that fell in the desert, but alas not so
nutritious
80, golly yes. What good mother she
was to US, and what things we used to find
in the old stocking she used to give us to
hang up Kriss Kringle don't come to us
any more, now that she's dead. l wonder
if he really used TO come down the chimney
Tip, or if twas only make believe"
81 don't know" said Tip. 81 watched
ever so many nights, but somehow always
fell asleep just before he came, and then
the things got into the stocking. fused to
dream, though, that saw him. A little man
with a red coat all covered with gold lace,
a long feather in his cap and little sword
by his side. And he used to smile at me
and say: Tip will you be good boy if
vii, put something into the stocking for
you 2 And then / used to promise, and
when promised heard music sounding all
through The house, a good deal finer than
the music we heard when We went to church
Binnie; and then Kriss Kringle would take
of his hat TO me, and make Jump and go
clear up the chimney out OF sight, like red
cricket, All how cold it is, Binnie, and
how hungry am. Tell US story.
The wind arose to the north and came
down upon the city with savage howl
The heavy snow-fakes fed before him into
every angle and nook, like terrified white
birds trying to hide themselves from some
vast-winged, screaming falcon. They thrust
themselves into the creyices of the windows
and between the Stats of the green window
blinds; they got under thesill of the doors
They left the centre of the streets and flew
madly into the cutters. They huddled
themselves into the dark corner where Tip
and Binnie were covering, ran up the legs
of their ragged trousers, and slipped down
between their frail shirt collars and their
cold, little necks. 1t was a fierce, biting,
scratching wind of prey, and poor Binnie
and Tip felt his talons digging into their
flesh.
Just as the pair of Migrants had drawn
c-z- .,oso- .oo.otbo - 81 p;n0;o -, 3;. /. :
1l1 S-eSsA 90. DA.AAAAN "NS :. yAH5 ~
stop his teeth-which began to chatter.
from biting in two the threadi of the story
that the patient little fellow was about to
tell his brother, they lheard faint cry,