The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1870-12-30
PURGED IN THE FIRE.
A Holiday story.

according to tlme-nonoreu custon, tou"'
blazing fire under my grandfathers roJi.
We were merry party, comprising some
fifteen cousins of all ares, with their respec-
tive parents, and few married and unmar-
ried upcles and aunts Uncle Herbc.t, other
wise Mr.. Herbert Milward, was our
uncle by marriage only, as the husband OF
our Aunt Alice; but though thus only lndl-
rectIy related to us, think he was, with the
younger ones, at any rate, the best-oeioVeo
of ali. Perhaps because he had no children
his own he was always specially
sympathetic in youthful troubles, and
specially lenisnt to youthful misdolngS
However grave the offense, we were always
sure of Uncle Herbert's intercesslon, though
he never failed privately to admonish the
offepder-very gently, but so gravely and
seriously shat his quiet words would bring
tears to eyes too proud to weep under the
severest punishment, and tame the most re-
belious spirit to submission and repentance
He could be very merry at times, but there
was gravity mingled even with his merri-
ment as of one to whom the more solemn
aspects of life are always present. His devo-
ton to his wife was remarkable, even to our
Youthful eyes. No one could say that his
affection was demoDstrative, and yet no one
could be in the company of the two together,
even for an hour, without feeling that Aunt
Alice was more precious to her husband
than anything else in the world. Wherever
come back to her as their resting
place, and however deeply, to all
appearance, he might be engrossed in
conversation with others, he was always able,
by some magical process of intuition, to
divine her wants or wishes, and silently to
supply them. Her furs were the warmest,
her silks the softest; nothing was too costly,
no trouble too great that ministered to her
pleasure. There seemed to be no such thing
IS forgetting, no possibility of mistake, wher-
ever she was concerned. If she had found
four-leaved shamrock, and had good
fairies constantly attending her, she could
hardly have been better served. Nor was
Aunt Alice bebindhand in returning her hus-
bands devotion. He was many years older
than she, but fancy the difference in their
ages increased, if anything, her pride aud
pleasure in his love. She never did anything
(indeed she had no need) to test or draw at
tention to his devotion, but she quietly aban-
doned herself to his tender care. She seldom
thanked him in words, at least in company,
but he was thanked enough by the look of
perfect love and perfect peace which was the
habitual expression of her gentle grey eyes,
On the present occasion Uncle Herbert was
seated in high backed oaken chair, with
Aunt Alice on a footstool beside him, and the
rest of the party grouped around in semi
circle before the blazing fire. The candles
were not yet lighted, but the dancing flame
throwing into bold relief the carved work of
the oaken furniture, and Frightening with a
genial glow the red berries and dark green
leaves of the Christmas evergreens. 1t was
Just the moment for freside story; and as
Uncle Herbert was known to be learned in
legends and German fairy tales which he
was wont to narrate with much
quiet humor our little cousins request met
with general approval Uncle Herbert did
not immediately reply, but sat apparently re-
flecting; and the Pickering freight, playing
over his face, showed us that he was in a
serious mood. Aunt Alice glanced up at him
inquiringly; and thought to myself that
had never seen her bright young face (for
she was many years younger than the rest of
our aunts and uncles) look more perfectly
beautiful than it did that night, and 1 caught
myself wondering, ,half-unconsciously, how it
had come to pass that she should have mar
ried one SO much older, and to all appearance
so unlike herself, as sober gray-headed Uncle
Herbert.
well, my dears,' said Uncle Herbert at
last, Il will tell you story, true story. L
don't think it is quite what you mean by a
Christmas story; but the events about which
liam going to tell you happened at Christ
mas-time, on this very night indeed, twenty
seven years ago..
We all settled down to listen, and, after a
minutes pause, he went on
1T was Christmas eve, or rather Christmas
day, for ~ o'clock had struck, and the few
people left in the streets were getting
gradually fewer and fewer, till it seemed as
though the policemen and the waits would
shortly have London to themselves. 1t was
bitter cold night, and snow was beginning
to fall. Most of the houses were dark and
silent, though here and there lighted win
dows and stray sounds of music and of happy
voices showed where a household was
seeing Christmas in, and giving merry
welcome to the happy season. Out of a
brilliantly lighted house in one of the West
end streets there came young man, who
looked as though he felt but little share of
the general rejoicing. He was barely twenty
years of age; but though so young his cheeks
were flushed and his gait unsteady with wine,
and his face was contracted with a look OF
hopeless despair. And little wonder! The
house which he had just left was noted
gaming house. He had been tempted by
bad companions, and had gambled and lost t.
lost far more heavily than he could afford.
One sin brings on another. In the vain hope
of recovering his losses-with the insane
persuasion, common to all gamblers, that be
must win in the end if he could but play
little longer-he had taken, without leave
large sum of his employers money had
staked it, and lost. And then, all at once
horrible remorse, a mad despair, seized
upon him. Now that it was too late, he saw
the full magnitude of his crime; he knew tos
well that the money which, when he ex
pected to be able to restore it secretly, ht
had thought of as borrowed, the law would
call by q very different name. He kueV
now that, disguise it as he might, the taking
OF that money was q theft. Already he fel
lmAOlnatlnn thn off han