The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-12-17
SOMEBODY'S STOCKING. r
BY MISS OLIVE LOGAN.
4. wHERR ruE STOCKING HING.

i, WHERE THE STOCKING HUNG.
The Stocking hung on the door-post Of
little room in the fourth story of a respectable
tenement-house not far from the great theatres
Of Broadway.
II was fastened to the door-post by an IRON
fork, which pierced the delicate mesheS WIN
its cruel prongs.
II was a Stocking of thread too thin ana
hne to be worn at the chilling sea a.
son; and It was easy to see that IL Oelonse" w
a shapely ankle and q tiny ioot'
TIE tenants of the building, as they passed
NV and saw IL hanging there, looked at it Curl
ousIv. but nobody touched it or thought OF
putting anything in it, till at last Jack came
lack stopped when he came along.
DWELL VOW" said Jack with an air of
never having seen such an extraordinary
affair before, ''here's Somebody's Stocking !"
All that was the very question Jack asked
bimself-"Whose 2'
Now what was it which made Jacks memory
20 wandering back through the shadows Of
the dead and gone past, at sight of Somebody's
Stocking hanging by Somebody's door,
1t did go wandering back, that is certain,
and the result of its wanderings was that Jack
heayed sigh, and again asked himself,
"WhoseY"
A wOmans, of course. That was clear
enough.
And pretty woman's, of course for it was
not possible that this fine, white, shapely
stocking belonged to a woman with an ugly
face and an Informed ankle and clumsy foot.
'It is just the Stocking" thought Jack,
still standing in the growing shadows, and
looking at it, "that She might have worn"
He sighed again as he thought of her. and
again his memory went wandering back
through the shadows of the dead and gone
Past, and showed him her picture as she was
when they were children together, and when
har Cd ali = -
porch, in the old village, for him to sea and to
put some sugar plums in, as he did.
And once more he sighed, as he wondered
where she was-whether she was living still,
or whether the daisies in the village grave
yard were growing over her.
"Why" he said at last to himself, f,-neces-
sarily to himself, for there was no one else
present to say it to-"why, in all
my iourneyings about the world, does her face
journey always with me and why do linger
so lovingly over my thoughts of her when the
Christmas time comes round and what"
and here he looked again at the door-post,
''has Somebody's, or anybody's, Stocking to
do with her ~
And then Jack thought,that if he had a wife
to love and TO care for, he might forget her,
and all about her, and nevermore do such a
foolish thing as to linger over mere Stocking
on Somebody's door-po
He thought he would 60 away, and not be
IOOllSn any more; ana as ne was gong ne
said-and this was being more foolish than
ever
Perhaps I might marry the owner of the
Stocking"
Foolish indeed To marry girl because,
and only because, you are pleased with her
Stocking were certainly the depth of the
foolish and the height of the absurd.
For, after all, this Somebody might be the
respectable but red-faced Irish washerwoman
he met sometimes on the stairs. Oh most
decidedly, Jack couldn't marry a washer
woman; for Jack was an artist, in his way,
and very good way it was, in his opinion.
And besides, the washerwoman was already
married.
So that settled that matter.
2. WHAT WAS IN IT.
Nothing.
Not thing.
Whoever this Somebody was, she had found
no admirers to put presents in her Christmas
Stocking.
She had hung it there, he could well
imagine, in a hopeful, childish way, believing
perhaps in the sweet but stupid fallacy Of
Kriss Kringle-and perhaps when the Christ
mas should be gone, and Bethlenam's Stal
should have ceased to shine and the Sun O.
Riekedness and greed should have arisen il
the great city, she would find her stocking al
she left it.