Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1868-01-29

dow on purpose that the little ones might
snugge over the fire. And the little ones
three in number, a girl and two boys were
smuggling over the fire, stretching out their
mites Of hands, and making believe that
the heat was very intense making believe
also, that an old wooden horse, who, though
he had lost his head and both forelegs
was still prime favorite-making believe
that this venerable nag was suffering ex-
ceedingly from the furnace-like character
OF the heat to which he was subjected,
and that from this cause he had contracted
sundry diseases beyond the reach of vet
crinary skill. 1t might be inferred from
the glib way in which the children pratt
tied stable talk, and also from colored
print of the celebrated trottipg horse CON
dolier, which hung over the mantle-piece,
that their father earned his living among
horses, and the inference would be correct !,
but of this W. will say more hereafter,
and rather observe for the present that the
room is scrupulously clean, and that there
were various little ornaments on the walls
and on the mantle-piece betokening u
home loving husband and wife. The fur
nIture, however, was painfully scanty, for
clothes which they contained, had been
confined to the guardianship of a CONNER
clal philanthropist in the Blackfriars road
with three golden balls over his doorway
until better times came round. And now
let us listen to Mrs Pullinger, a pretty
dark haired little woman of six and TWEEN
1 ty, with pale, thin face
Its nO use, securing out the big sauce
pan; we shall have no pudding this
Christmas
1t mag as well be clean as dirty an
swered the little housewife cheerfully, as
she continues her polishing.
But these few words had attracted the
attention Of the little ones, who looked up
with large round eyes of disappointed
wonderment.
No pudding p cried little Alice
No pudding?' whimpered Bob, drop
pind 4 tear on the wooden horses ragged
name.
Even baby, twenty months DID, and the
family pet, stammered out regretfully, as
if calling the remembrance Of many pre-
vious Christmas festivities, Me want pud-
deny, me muSs have puddeny,'
Hush children exclaimed Lizzie with
severity, holding up an authoritative finger :;
you ought to be thankful that there are
two loaves of bread in the cupboard, and
4 pot of nice dripping. Then turning
to her mother, she said, 1 hear fathers
step on the stairs.
In few moments Mr.. Pullinger made
his appearance, 4 short, bow-legged man,
with a broad, good humored face and
pair of twinkling brown eyes. He took
from his shoulders corn sack, which he
wore by way of overcoat, and hung it on
the banisters to dry.
Dear Bob how wet you are el' said his
wife, anxiousy.
/ We'll, it's rayther dampish,' answered
Mr.. Pulinger calmly, as he shook him
self at the stairhead, like Newfoundland
dog but | ain, going to stop at home,
SO it don't matter How about to-morrow's
dinner, Polly?'
That depends upon you, Bob
Because, | DO like bit Of summat
nice at Christmas, pursued Mr.. Pullinger
rehectively- Here he opened the cover
and peered at its contents. We don't
| show well in the provision line, do we Pol
/ ly?'
The wife replied by sigh.
And | haven't brought a half-penny
home with me. All this blessed day I've
only had three fares, and one of them was
a six-penny touch How folks can recon-
cile it to their conscience to offer a man
a sx-pence for seventeen yards of car
riage airing on a day like this, | don't
know. The chaps on the stand laugh at
me, and say | am soft, to take it but |
| can't bully and | can't 60 agn' the Act of
Parliament. So hele am, eighteen-pence
in debt for cab-hire to Mr. Wilkinson.
But don't ye get down-hearted, l shall ask
master to let me have another horse, and
take night job. We're sure to have a
| fine night arter this rain. and if | don't
pick up summat good before morning I'm
a Dutchman.
| hope you've had some dinner to-day,
Bob ? asked Mrs Pullinger.
Well, no, haven't, replied her hus-
band, cheerily. That bread in the cup
board smelt so savory, that l thought /
wouldn't spile my appetite by getting any
commonplace grub at the cook shop So
Lizzie, Just cut me hunch off the loaf.
and butter it well,-I can't do without
butter, he said this with jocose wink
= then I'll be off 10 the yard and hear
what Mr. Wilkinson has to say
So Mr.. Pulinger walked up and down
| the attic, beating his arms on his chest to
keep himself warm, and each time that he
passed the table he took a bite of his
bread and dripping. He managed to
make every body laugh, even his pale
faced wife for he pretended that every
mouthful was some new and unexpected
delicacy.
What's this? partridge? Why. Liz
zie, I'm surprised at yea, l thought
partridges were five shillings brace.
., venison is it? l like venison, though
well kept mutton's pretty near as tasty
And a roey-poey pudding to finish up
with If there is pudding | like Pol
y, it's roley-poley." Then taking
draught of cold, milkless tea, he said
smacking his lips, Here's another sur
prise | didn't bargain for. Sparkling
champaigne-and in tumblers, too, Pol
ly, I'm afraid you're getting extravagant'
And having thus seasoned his homely
repast. Mr.. Pulinger put on his battered
old billy cock hat, threw his corn sack
over his shoulders, and descended the stairs
whistling.
A couple Of hours later Mr.. Pullinger
came home again. His broad face looked
fully two inches longer than when he went
out, and as he hung his hat on its accus-
toned peg, deep sigh escaped from his
lips. Lizzie, keenly observant child,