The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1868-12-01
From Petersons Magazine, for Dec.l
THE ORPHANS
c. II r I S T Nj A S = E Y r
BY KARY A. DENISoN.

now keen, bitter wind was blowing
that cut to the very bone 1t was 81
cold, indeed, that but few persons wer,
in the streets, although it was Christina,
Eve. Usually, at this hour, ON the nigh
before the great holiday, the pavements
were crowded with people; happy chill
dren going, hand inland, with theil
parents, TO buy toys; gay lockers on
rlaskers in grotesque garments; and
boys blowing horns; everything and
everybody jubiiant with joy and mer-
! riment But now the streets were al
most deserted, for the snow lay foot
deep. In vain the shop windows blaz
ed with gas and exhibited their very
choisest stores. Here and there news
boy, STOPPING to face the blast, cried the
evening papers and now and then a
solitary cab drove almost noiselessly
through the white streets The gale
roared through the trees of the ruhlic
! square, and the icicles ratified down
from the ewes. 1t was as desolate a
winters night as you ever saw.
Suddenly, a bare footed little girl,
thinly clad, and shiyering with cold,
turned a corner, and came face to fase
| with one of the most brilliantly Ii GIFTED
toy shops in that quarter of the town.
She had evidently been abroad togather
fuel for scanty fire, for she carried an
oil hoo vrh. .a1,
were chips and other bits of refuse wood
which had been picked up everywhere
and anywhere.
At sight of the dazzling window and
of the glories it revealed, the poor little
thing stopped. Her eyes sparkled with
joy. Her breath came short For a
moment she forgot the want and mis-
cry at home--the ireless room, the
empty cupboard, the sick mother--and
could think Of nothing but the lovely
thing the window contained. Oh that
doll, that glorious. gorgeous creature;
the spangled dress that seemed covered
withd iamonds; the funny masks.
She had never had Christmas tree her
self; but she had heard of such things,
and she gasped, breathlessly, gazing at
the doll.
Where will it go, / wonder? To
some one who lives in beautiful house,
I expect, and has everything she wants, |
even to pies and turkeys, for Christmas"
she added, in longing little voice.
ooh, dearr'
That sigh reached the ear of a tall, /
dark man who was passing, leaning upon
the arm of another gentleman He
looked down, at first with wonder, and
Jhen with pity, upon the sweet face and
eyes, upon the little red hands that
we're grasping the basket the poor, lit
lie hands that should have been white
md dimpled; upon the chips with snow
melting about their edges upon the
,ieanly though thin garment; upon the
,are feet; aud then again into the deep,
vistful eyes.
&C What pretty child p he thought
Poor little thing - And he asked, stop
ing, his voice softened to tenderness,
What is your name, little one p ,
''Lucy. sir!'
Lucy! 1t was the name of his only
lister, whom he had not seen for many :,
long year; not since he had gone
way, efter the death of his parents, and
le safe Of the old homestead up in New
England, determined to make his way !:
! the world. What train of men,
ries it called up! He thought of the ;.
Apply old days, and of sweet Hetty
loss, and then Of the utter despair that
,llowed, when his father died bank :,
lpt, and his mother followed of bro. :.
en- heart, and some far away relatives =
ame and took his sister out of charity,
i'd old Deacon Moss shut his doors
yainst him. The shame and anguish
it all returned IN him as sharply as
hen he had first feltit, a lad of twenty .
1t back also came the memory of his =
ster. and he almost persuaded himself,
r a moment, that the child before him "
oked like his ''little Lucy" had looked =
her age. There was tremor of ex z
ectation in his voice, as he said,
:" Lucy what, DEAR? =
g Lucy Pettigrcw. "
All! it was name he had never
sard. But, remembering that his sis
RS child would not bear her IN 9th err 8
alden name, he asked again, -
:" And have you always lived here?"
/" Always. AS long as l can remem-
r. Father was a soldier, you know, =
id was killed in the war Now there !,
nobody but mother and me-" =,
He looked again at the child. The m
ncied resemblance to his sister had
ded. The ''little Lucy of long ago m
ID blue eyes and faxen hair; both O,