The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1868-12-20

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.o "No sir; little, little prayer-book, which
Mr.. Millet chuckled. "Mister, you've no
business with prayer books. Give it out !;
you've money hid in it-you have :" and the
scoundrel endeavored to drag the dearly
priced remembrance from the child's bosom.
ooh, pray, sir" cried Fid, with pathos
which might have inclined a stone to pity,
On, pray, sir, leave it to me-my poor
mothers present; the only thing in the world
have belonging to her-oh, don't sir"
Tears and supplications appealed III vain
to the hard-hearted man. He pushed the
boy into corner, and pressing one hand
under his ear, endeavored with the other to
wrench the book from the fingers that clasp
ed it with such tender reverence. felt
passionate tears gather holly to my eyes !;
felt my whole frame tremble with violent
emotion but before the violence of my pas
sion had time to realize itself into any rash
result, Mr.. Millet fell to the ground in an
apoplectic fit, which frequently seized him
when passionateiy excited his head struck
The wall, which gi.shed his forehead deeply.
AS stood wavering as to the best thing to
be done, Mrs. Millct came out with q light
ana L was shocked to see that the lobby was
thickly sprinkled with her husbands blood.
L knelt by his side to render wlIat assist
ance | could, when got confused notion
of lights over my head, of people standing
in their nj ht-dresseso on the stairs and land
ings, of windows being thrown up, and po-
licemen summoned, and then of great
crash, which deprived me of consciousness
for a moment. L sprang to my feet, and
found myself confronted with Mr.. Millet's
wife, who had been beating me on the head
with poker. Fid sat half erect in cor
ner, his eyes staring vacantly about, with Il
strange comatic. vagueness
Robber, murderer, pickpocket, cut
screamed Mrs. Millet, glaring at
me. Curse you, you shall hang for this.
Murder! murder!" and dropping the candle
and poker simultaneously, she knelt down
beside her husband, who answered her ca
resses with imprecations. l caught Fid by
the arm, and we hurried down stairs, first
securing the key, which 1 found hidden
under the mat. We opened the door-we
gained the street. Was it possible such
scenes could find place beneath the tran
quill loneliness of that morning sky? The
moon had gone down far south of the city,
where the clouds hung low and red, as if
they canopied an expiring confagration
straight overhead the stars giittered keen
and tremulous, touching the showed house,
ridges with blush light. Under the fading
stars and setting moon, across great squares,
and down reticulated streets and crooked
we fed to the dead house.
The lamp lighter had already begun to turn
off the gas, and the foggy twilight and soft
snow favored our fight. Up a crowd of
narrow stairs, and into a dismal room, /
found my way, piloted by poor Fid. An
old woman crOuched over the ashes in the
cheerless fire. place, and OH a wretched bed,
with a gathered candle stuck in one of its
posts, lay the dead body of the poor boys
mother. y
80, mother! o, Dick !" and he flung his
arms around the lifeless neck of the dead.
l sat down in a corner, and-need blush
to tell it FL cried bitterly and fercely.
Reader, Mr.. and Mrs. Millet are alive to
this day, and enjoy the reputation of being
highly respectable, Christian people, who
keep NO apprentices. The records of a GER
tain police office, in Il certain city, tell how
and Fid were brought before the magis
trates on the 9th December, 1S-; how we
were tried and acquitted; how. generous
people sympathized and befriended us and
how, from the darkness and misery of that
fearful Christmas, came the blissful light
that gilded other Christmases with peace
and happiness. God be thanked! y Amen.
MY SECOND CHRISTMAS.
The year 1s4-was dismal year. "a
shadow darkened the land from east to west,
and within it sat pale-lipped prophets, deep
in ominous forebodings for the future. Fam
ine and plague had been familiar guests for
many months churchyards were populous
and firesides desolate. Heavily the year
wore on, each particular month being mark
ed by the black stone of some fresh calam-
ity /; it was polar night, and the sunrise