The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1874-12-17
Little whites Merry Christmas.

WIZ
How the wind did blow skimming
round and hoarsely whistling down the
chimneys, bowling in the tree-tops,
roaring along the road, till it roared
itself out for the moment, then gather
ing strength once more it ragged and
raved against the little weather beaten
cottage where Willie lived with his
grandmother, as though it were bound
to blow the roof off this time, and no
mistake
Snow, too. You had better believe it
WIS showing Blowing, drifting, hur-
rying, skurrying, heaped over the
fences, loaded on the boughs, whirled
by the savage blast against the cottage
door and little winking windows, from
which the candleEght and freight
cleaned like pair of glow-worms left
over by some mistake from summer
time. But it was warm and comforta-
BILE inside that little kitchen. Grandma
sat beside the wood fire knitting the
everlasting blue stocking that seemed
to be always doing and never done,
while Willie on the opposite sat think
ing intensely, with his blue eyes watch
ing the embers as they fell.
5 Grandma he said at last, "Grand-
ma. this is Christmas Eve, isn't it ?"
"Christmas Eve, dearie," responded
her cheerful voice.
81 saw such big turkeyw continued
the boy, "going into Tom fuckers
house, and cranberries and a ham
and Tom says that his mother made
twenty mince- pies. I wish we had a
mince-pie."
81 wish we had, dear"
"What are we going to have for din
ner, grandma?"
The pleasant old face grew shade
less cheerful as she answered, "Noth-
ing very grand, am afraid, dear, but
we must try to be contented. If neigh
Dor Goodhue had not sent us the load
of wood we would have been cold
enough this wild night. and surely God
will not forget my Willie. He will put
it into some ones heart to provide for
the orphan, never fear."
The boy sat silent again, thinking,
then he said: Grandma, if father
hadn't run away from mother and me,
we shouldn't be so poor, should we?"
emo, Willie"
1T was ever SO long ago, when I was
a baby, wasn't it o.
"Only six months old, Willie, and
Margaret, your mother, never held up
her head afterward; she just dropped
and faded like broken flower, and
soon left you to me, poor orphan
baby"
He was wicked man to leave us
bad, wicked man p cried Willie, in
dignantly, his blue eyes flashing in the
blaze.
"Hush, Willie. tits Christmas Eve.
the eve before the glorious day which
brought peace on earth, good will to-
ward men, We must forgive and for
get"
Here the logs fell in with loud
crash, scattering live Goals all over the
hearth. Willie Jumped up to brush
them back with the old turkey-wing,
then, looking up, he said: "Let me
put on one more stick, grandma"
" I'm afraid we can't afford it, Willie,
besides it is almost nine o'clock, and
that is bedtime"
Won, IL 20. III y no use TO nanG
up my stocking, suppose" and the
boys lip quivered.
Why, Willie, what happened last
Christmas
ooh, yes the minister's wife gave
me the red mittens, and Tom fuckers
mother sent apples"
"And the beautiful horn of candy
and the orange from the Christmas tref
at the Sunday -school." added his grand
mother.
"Why, to be sure," said Willie
cheering up. Maybe I'll get some.
thing this time, too. I tell YOU what
Grandma, I'll go to bed, and be aslee1
in five minutes, to make christina
come quicker" Hugging her. and
fondly kissing her withered cheeks. tn,
little fellow ran off, and was soon il
his trun1le-bed in the small lean-tc
room, the only other room the cottage
contained.
For once in his life Willie could no
go to sleep in five minutes. He la,
warmly tucked up in his patchwork
quilt, his blue eyes wide open, listening
to the wind roaring away outside.