The Western advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1872-1874, 1874-04-18
GIT MIGHT HAVE BEEN"

Rural New Yorker.
GIT MIGHT HAVE BEEN"
Twas horribly lonesome. What could
I do with myself? 1t is only about
Christmas time that the responsibility of
my individuality hangs heavier upon me
my business engrosses me for the most
part for | had been more successful in
money matters than in any other interest
in life. But now the holidays were here
Everything in my neat chambers was
orderly and comfortable, and had real
satisfaction in the feeling that they be-
lOnged to ne. But how lonesome they
wcre A fellow just passed my window
with covered basket on one arm, and on
the other a happy.looking woman chat
tcring gayly as she walked. Well,
might have had wife if it had not been
for Charley's perfdy-yes, and Emma's,
too, for suppose she was as much to
blame as he was.
wonder if either of them were to
blame? Love goes where it is sent, they
say, and really suppose they could not
help loving each other. Poor Emma!
Proud, splendid woman I should like
to know what her fate has been. 1t
seems strange that l have never heard
one word from them since that Christmas
Eve on which they eloped. She was to
have married me before another Christ
mas; but Charley was younger and hand
somcr than I, and there were
such brilliant indications of genius
about him. Strange that they
have not, or should have heard. On, If /
could only see them again! had for
given them both before the expiration of
the first year, in my anxiety about them
for how could | forget the charge of my
dying mother? "Take him, Paul." she
said; " be good, and tender and true to
him all the days OF your life. No matter
with what ingratitude he may repay your
kindness-forgive him not only seven
times, but seventy times seven. Be to
him more than brother, NY trusted
child; fill my vacant place for MIN. Say
to yourself-it will be true-there is no
crime on earth that would cause my
mother to cast one of her children out.
The more abandoned, the more wretched
they become, the more my affection shall
comfort and solace them; until, al last,
with a patience that never wearies and a
zeal that never flags, and love whose
strong wings bear all burdens upward, l
will land them within the portals of that
eternal home where sin and sorrow can
come no more forever.
And now four years had slipped down
the thread Of time, each adding to my
anxiety, until felt that would gladly
give all my accumulated wealth for the
sight Of their dear faces once more.
will get away from these torturing
thoughts, said; will go out and seek
some adventure, praying my good spirit
to lead me where can make a Christmas
for somebody, though l may not have
one for myself. l put on my wraps and
brilliantly the lights shone, and what an
array Of Christmas cheer they illumined.
And then to see the toys! Oh, if l only
had child to make happy with gift!
Why, here is whole bevy of ragged lit
tie urchins, shiveriRg around pastry
cooks window. Now, good spirits,
whose duty it is to inspire US to generos-
ity, l shall commit no act of disinterested
benevolence tonight; but will make
these youngsters happy if YOU will grant
me some reasonable recompense. So
called them in, and bought as they d.
rected; they were so engrossed and so
joyful they forgot to thank me, and de-
parted with arms full of good things for
their different homes. But when they
were gone, the old lonely feeling returned
to me, and I thought uncomfortably OF
my bachelor Christmas again.
/ passed the next day somehow. !
gave a good deal to the friendless little
ones on the street-God's children-still
holding firmly by my compact with my
spirit friends, and asking frankly for re-
endorsement. Why not? Have not we
the promise that, if we cas-: our bread
upon the waters, after many days it will
return to us?
On Christmas morning, as I passed out
of my door, found child sitting quiet
ly on the step, eating bunch Of raisins.
He looked so hearty and 50 comfortable
though poorly clad, that at first thought
he must belong to some of my neighbors
But no: l had looked at all of these sc
longingly and 50 tenderly, knew them
as we'll as if they had been my own.
thought I'd speak to him.
"How d'u do, young man ?"
"Dood morny," he said slowly, in {
rich baby contralto.
did not know what to say next. NJ
matter-he did. He took a wet raisi1
from out his rosy mouth and handed it tt
me.
"Ain't 90 hungry, poor man ?" he said
declined his hospitality, but his lips
quivered, and tears came into his eyes.
-" o yes" I said quickly, seeing wha
allied him; II would like to have some
raisins;" and stopped down beside him
His face cleared instantly, and he com
menced feeding me-alternately putting
one grape in my mouth and one in his
thought I was doing him a favor; ht
h,aeo he was doing me favor, and as tn,
grapes disappeared began to look uneasy
"Ain't 90 dot enough ," he said.
20 no, not half enough yet."
Es 90 is dot enough, now; dey'l
make 90 SICK" and he actually put al
the rest-a good.sized handful-into hi
own mouth. Well, it was not fair, but
reserved my opinion of his conduct, AM
asked him his name.
"Dotty," he said,