The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1870-12-22
A NIGHT WITH SANTA CLATS.

Nor very long ago, and not very far
from here, lived little boy named KObbv
Morgan. Now | must tell at once how
Robby looked, else how will you know
him if you meet him in the street? And
| assure you that the boy to whom such a
wonderful thing happened is acorM know
ing. Blue eyed was Rob, and fair haired
and g-nosed,-just the sweetest trifle
a story of its own to tell Il know Tn
only a mite of a nose on mite of a boy.
but | won't be snubbed by any of YOU
long sharp fellows" If ever nose meant
to do its whole duty through thick and
thin, that little turn-up of Rob's did
There you have my hcro's face, and as
faces are but pictures of hearts, until peo-
pie grow mp and teach their eyes and Inns
to tell wrong storieS,-yOu NAV know
about what kind of a boy Rob was Thnre
was world Of mischief and pluck, Of
goodness and naughtiness, tumbled togcth-
er in that little heart; but after all there
was more lore than anything else,-love for
mamsa and papa, Uncle George and
Santa Claus All now we have come TO
the story indeed, You know you often
nibble away at the crust of piece of cake,
thinking at isn't SO very good after all, !"
until all at once you bite into a rasin; SO
we have nibbled off the crust of my story,
and here we are among the raisinsl Santa
Claus, childhoods blessed saint, to begin
with
Well. the day before Christmas, Rob
thought it would be a fine thing 10 run
down Main Street and see what was going
on; so after dinner mamma put on his fur
cap and bright scarf, and filled his pockets
l, l. Ii toll n 70
be very polite to Santa Claus if he should
happen to meet him.
Off he trotted, merry as cricket, now
skip, now slide, longing to turn a somer
set in the SNOW, yet fearing that the Re
cording Angel, who keeps sharp lookout
on little boys at Christmas time, might pop
out from tree box and convict him on
the spot At every corner he held his
breath, half expecting to run into Santa
himself; but nothing of the sort happened,
and he soon found himself before the gay
windows of a toy-shop
There he saw spring hobby horse, as
large as a Shetland pony, all saddled and
bridled, too-lacking nothing, in fact, but
rider Rob pressed his nose against the
glass, and tried to imagine the feelings of
a boy in that saddle. He might have stood
there all day trying to conceive that bliss,
had not ragged little fellow pulled his
coat, piping out, Wouldn't you jist like
that pop-gun, mebbe!"
Catch me looking at pop guns" said
Rob, shortly, feeling that their very men
ton was an insult to the hobby-horse; but
when he saw how tattered the boys jacket
was, he said more softly, P'raps you'd
like n cooky."
"Trv me wunst," said the shrill little
voice.
There was a queer lump in Rob's throat
as he emptied one pocket of its cakes and
thrust them into the dirty, eager hands
Then he marched down the street without
so much as glancing at that glorious steed
again.
Brighter and brighter grew the windows,
more and more full of toys, till at last our
boy stood, with open eyes and mouth, be-
fore great store lighted from top to bot
tom, for it was growing dark. Rob came
near taking off his cap and saying, How
do you do. sir?'
To whom you ask; why, to an image
of Santa Claus, the size Of life, holding
Christmas-tree filled with wonderful fruit
1t would have puzzled painter to find
colors as bright as Rob's eyes and checks
were then. Soon happy thought struck
him Surely this must be Santa Claus
own store where he comes to fill his bas
ket with toys! What if l were To hide
there and wait for himg" AS | said, he
was brave little chap, SO he walked
straight into the store with the stream OF
big people. Every body was busy; mann
mas were looking at playthings, papas
were pulling out their purses, clerks were
tying UP parcels, and errand-boys were
scampering to and fro as if they had lost
their wits, and were bent on finding them.
No one had time to look at our mite of a
Rob He tried in vain to find IA quiet cor
ner, till he caught sight of some winding
stairs that led up TO the next story. He
crept up, scarcely daring to breathe till he
reached the top.
What fairy land Toys everywhere
Oceans of toysl Nothing but toys ex-
cepting one happy little boy This was
the Wholesale department.
Rob came nearer losing his wits than
ever i'm his life before; and indeed think
such playroom excuse enough. Think
of fifty great rocking horses in pile; of
whole f1ocks of woolly sheep and curly
dogs, with the real bark in them; stacks
of drums regiments of soldiers armed to
the teeth; companies of tiremen drawing
their hose carts no end of wheelbarrows
and velocipedesl
Rob screwed his knuckles into his eyes,
as gentle hint that they had not better
play him any tricks, and then stared with
might and main.
The room was lighted just brightly
enough TO show its treasures, yet the far
corners were so dim as to give quite mys'