Weekly Trinity journal. [volume] (Weaverville, Calif.) 1857-1972, 1868-12-19
NUMBER so.
The Power OF Music.
q. A CHRISTMAS STORY.

1t was cold winter evening The chill blast
came sweeping from the chain of hills that guard
the city on the north, laden with the cold breath
of thousand leagues of ice and snow There
was sharp, polar glitter in the myriad stars
that wheeled on their appointed courses through
the dark blue heaven in whose expanse no single
cloud was visible. Howling through the icy
streets came the strong, wild north wind, tear
| ing in its fierce frenzy the sail-cloth awnings
into tatters, swinging the public house signs,
and shaking the window shutters, like bold
burglar bent on the preparation of crime. Then
onward-onward it sped ofer the dark steel-
colored bay, and out to the wild, wide, open sea,
to do battle with the sails of the staunch barks
that were struggling towards haven.
But Within the good people of Boston wero
stoutly waging battle against the common enemy
on this bitter Christmas eve. In some of the
old-fashoned houses at the North End, inhab-
tied by old-fashioned people, the ruddy light
that STRAINED through the parlor windows on
the street, announced that huge fires of oak and
hickory were blazing on the ample hearths. But
in far the greater number of dwellings, the less
genial, but more powerful anthracite was con-
tending with the wintry elements.
In an upper room of old crazy, wooden
house. poor woman, thinly clad, sat sewing
beside rusty, sheet-iron stove, poorly supplied
with chips. She had been once eminently hand
some, and but for the wanness and hollOwness
|
| Two little boys, of seven and nine years of
age, were warming themselves, or seeking to
warm themselves, at the stove before retiring to
their little bed in a small room adjoining.
| " Isn't this nice, mother?'' said the younger,
a bright, back-eyed boy. q Didn't get nice
lot of chips to-day?'
eyes, dearest, you are always good and in
dustrious boy,'' said the mother, snatchng a
moment from her work to imprint kiss upon
his forehead
Poor pa will have a nice fire to warm him
when he comes home,' said the elder boy:
At this allusion to the child's father, the
mother burst into tears. The countenance of
both the children fell. They knew too well the
cause of their mothers sorrow-the same cause
had blighted their own young hearts and clouded
their innocent lives-their father was drunk
ard Hence it was that, bright and intelligent
as they were, they could not 60 to school-they
were too ragged for that-and their time was re-
quired on the wharves to pick up fuel and such
scraps of provision scattered from the
sheaves of the prosperous and prodigal. For
! this reason, too the mother had carefully for
borne to remind the children that this was
Christmas eve. But they knew it too well, and
! they contrasted its gloominess and sorrow with
| the well-remembered anniversaries when this
was season of delight the eve of promised
pleasures, of feasts, of dances, and of presents.
With this thought in their hearts they silently
kissed their mother, and retired to their little
bed, committing themselves to s'Our Father who
art in Heaven" while the poor mother toiled on,
listening with dread for the returning footsteps
of her husband.
The husband and father whose return was
thus dreaded, had worked late at night in the
shop of the carpenter who had given him tenn
porary employment, and who was to pay him
that evening. Five six dollars were coming
to him, more than he had earned honestly for q
long while, and his hand shook with ca gerness
as his employer counted out his wages. As he
put on his hat to leave the shop he observed his
fellow-workmen, who were all sober and steady
men, cycling him with sad inquiring looks, and
he almost ran out of the shop.
q | know what they mean, ," he said to him
self; - but what is it to them how spend my
money - the pryng busy-bodies ! Pm not a
slave-I have right to do what l please with
my own. Whew how cutting the wind.is. A
glass or two of hot whisky toddy will be just the
thing -
Without thought of his toiling wife and
neglected children, the poor, infatuated
FASTENED towards grocery with the intention
of Stacking his morbid thirste At the moment
his foot on the Threshold out from the bel
fry of Christ church, ringing clear in the frosty
air, streamed tide of sweet and solemn music.
Simple, yet touching, the melody of those
sacred bells, Ginning forth the advent of the
blessed Christmas-tme. And, as the song of
the bells fell upon his ear, it awakened in the
drunkard thousand memories of happier, be-
cause better days. The comfortable dwelling
the quiet, neat parlor, with its Christmas dress
ings, the sweet face of his wife, the merry laugh
of his bright-eyed children-al flashed back
wildly upon his mind. He recked not of the
bitter bast-hc forgot his late purpose-he could
wish those sweet bells to play on forever But
they ceased.
It a voice from Heaven ~ said the man,
as the tears rolled down his cheeks. " Surely
God has blessed those Christ church chimes
I'll never more drink drop. This money
shall go to my family, every cent of it, 1t is not
too late yet to buy provision for tomorrow and
some comfortable things for the children. >.
1t was late that night when the watching wife
heard the step of her husband on the staircase
1t was as slow and heavy as usual but now re-
lieved how astonished, how grateful she ieit,
when the door opened, and he came IN, happy,
sober bearing huge basket filled with provi-
sons. and threw down parcel containing Stock
ipos comforters and mttens for the chlldrea,
not forgetting some simple Christmas wreaths
ond some of tt,ose condiments which children
love- .,, go,
The next day was happy one indeed, for the
mother and the little boys-a merry Christmas
that reminded them of happy future. May we
hone that the effect we have attributed to the
rhr;st church chimes is not a solitary instance
of the mower of music!