Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1871-01-04
A Christmas Story.

"Uucls Herbert, will you tell us q
Christmas storyi Please dor The
speaker was only little maid Of six years
old. but dozen voices echoed the re
quest.
Il was Christmas, and we were gath.
cred, according to time. honored custom,
round a blazing fire under my grand>
fathers roof. We were a merry party,
comprising some fifteen cousins of all
ages, with their respective parents, and a
few married and unmarried uncles and
aunts. Uucle Herbert, otherwise Mr..
Herbert Milward, was our uccle by mar
rage only, as the husband of our aunt
Alice; but though thus only indirectly
related to US, / think he was, with the
Younger oucs at any rate, the best below
ed of all. Perhaps because he bad no
children Of his own, he was always speci,
ally sympathetic in youthful troubles, and
specially lenient to youthful misdoirgs.
However grave the offensc, we were al
ways sure of uncle Herbert's intercession !;
though he never failed privately to nd
mouish the oflendcr-very gently, but so
eravely and seriously that bis quiet words
would bring tears to eyes too proud TO
weep under the severest punishment, and
tame the most rebellious spirit TO submits
sion and repentance. He could be very
merry at times; but there was gravity
mingled even with bis merriment, as of
one 10 whom The more solemn aspects of
life are always present. His devotion to
his wife was remarkable, even to our
youthful eyes. No one could say that
bis affection was demonstrative, and yet
no one could be in the company of the
two together, even for an hour, without
feeling that Aunt Alice was more prsc
ious to her husband than anything else
in the world. Wherever his eyes wand
cred, they always seemed to come back
TO her as their resting place; and how
ever deeply, TO all appearance. hs might
be engrossed in conversation with others,
lie 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 10 be no such thing as for
getting, no possibility of mistake, wherev
er she was concerned. If she had found
a fou,leaved shamrock. and had good
fairies constantly attending her, she could
hardly have been better served. Nor
was Aunt Alice bebindhand in returning
her husbands devotion. He was many
years older than she, but fancy the diff
ference in their ages increased, if any
thing, her pride and pleasure in his love.
She never did anything (indeed she had
no needy to test or draw attention to his
devotion, but she quietly abandoned her.
self to his tender care. She seldom
thanked him in words, at least in COM
pany, but he was thanked enough by the
look of perfect love and perfect peace
which was the habitual expression of her
gentle gray eyes.
On the present occasion Uncle Her
bert was seated in high backed oaken
chair, with Aunt Alice on footstool be-
side him, and the rest oil the party group
ed around in semicircle before the blaz.
ing fire. The candles were not yet lighted
but the dancing flame shed rudy light
throughout the room. throwing into bold
relief the Carved work of the oaken fur
niture, and Frightening with a geniaI
glow the red berries and dark green
leaves of the Christmas evergreens. II
was just the moment for firesidc story
and as Uncle Herbert was known TO be
learned in legends and German fairy tales
which be was wont to narrate with much
quiet humor, our little cousins request
met with general approval. Uncle Her
bert did not Immediately reply, but saI
apparently rejecting; and the Pickering
FIRE light, playing over bis face, showed
US that be was in serious mood. Aun
! Alice glanced up at him inquiringly; snc