Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1875-12-24

A CHRISTMAS STORY.

81 can't stand it any longer, Jane; I'll go
out, and perhaps som thing will turn up for
ats q cold night. Robert
"Cold, yes. But it's not much colder out
| than in. 1t would have been much better
for yo5 Il you had married John Tremain,'
Don't say that, Robert; I've never regret
| ted my choice"
| Not even when there is not a loaf of
bread In the house for you and the children?'
| "Not even now, Robert Don't be dis
| couraged- God has not forsaken Us. Per
haps this Christmas eve the tide will turn;
better days may dawn upon us tomorrow !"
Robert Brice shook his head despondiDgly.
lyon are mere hopeful than /, Jane. Day
after day l have besn in search of employ
ment. i have called at fifty places, only TO
receive the same answer everywhere"
Just then little Jimmy, who had been
asleep, woke cup.
Mother, he pleaded, "won't you give me
apiece OF bread? am so hungry"
Inere is no bread, Jimmy, my da Ring"
sad the mother, with an aching heart.
when will there be some?- as ked the little
child, piteously.
Tears came to the mothers eyes. She knew
not what to do.
Jimmy, I'll bring you some Bread said
the father, hOaTsely.
And he seized his hat and went TO the door.
His wife, alarmed: laid her hand upon his
| sleeve. She saw the look in his eyes; she
feared to what step desperation might lead
him.
Remember, Robert" she said. solemnly.
| that are worse"
He shook of her hand, but not roughly,
and, without word, passed out.
Out in the cold streets! There would be
their only home next For a brief time longer
he had the shelter of a cherries room in a
cold lodging house, but the rent would be-
come due at the end of the month, and he
had nothing to meet it.
Robert Brice was a mechanic, competent
and skillful; Three years since, he lived in
moderate, and he found no difficulty in meet
ing them. But i'm an evil hour he grew tired
of his village home, and removed TO the city.
Here he Vainly hoped to do better. For a
while he met with very good success; but he
found the lodging house in which he had to
live poor substitute for the neat cottage he
occupied in the country. He saw his mis-
take, but was too proud to go back, although
ii was his wife's desire they should do so
Buta time of great depression came, and
Work ceased for Robert Brice and many
others. If he had been in his old home, he
could have turned his hand to something
else, and, at the worst, could have borrowed
OF his neighbors till better times.
So day by day he went out 10 seek work,
only TO return disappointed. If he had been
was sore trial to come to the cherries room
and his pale wife and hungry children, with
no relief to offer the m.
When ON that Christmas eve Robert Brice
went into the streets, he hardly knew how
he was going TO redeem the promise he had
made little Jimmy. He was absolutely pen
ana Ilau Deen SO LOT Iilree days. Inere
was nothing that he was likely TO find TO do
that night.
twill pawn my coat" he said. 81 cannot
see my wife and children starve."
1t was well-wOrn coat, and that winter
night he needed something more to keep him
warm. Weakened by enforced fasting, he
was more sensitive TO the cold and shivered
as he walked along the pavement.
Eyes" he said, 'my coat must go. know
not how shall get on without il; but 1 can
not see the children starve before my eyes"
mot IN
when he saw the sleek, we'll fed citizens, but
toned up. TO the throat in warm overcOatS.
come out of brilliantly-lighted shops, pro-
vidtd with presents for happy children al
home while his were starving, he suffered
some bitter thoughts upon the inequality of
fortunes gifts to come to his mind. Why
should they be so happy, while he was so
There was time, he remembered il well,
when he, too, suffered not the Christmas
eve to pass without buying some little gifts
for Jimmy and Agnes. How little he
dreamed that they should ever want breadi
There was one man, shorter than himself,
thrust deep in the pockets of his overcoat.
There was pleasant smile upon his face.
He was, doubtless, thinking of the happy
circle at home.
Robert knew him to be a rich cabinet
maker and upholsterer, whose ample ware
house he often passed. He had applied TO
this man only two days before for employ
lnent, and been refused. 1t was, perhaps,
the thought of the wide difference between
them, so far as outward circumstances were,
that led Robert To follow him.
After awhile the tradesman, Mr.. Grimes
drew his handkerchief from his pocket. AS
he did so, he did not perceive that his pocket
book came with 1t, and fell on the pavement.
He did not perceive 1t, but Robert did. His
heart leapei into his mouth, and a sudden
thought entered his mind. He bent quickly
down and picked up the pocket-boOk He
raised his eyes TO see If the movement was
BOticed. 1t was not. Mr.. Grimes went on
unheedtng his loss.
This will buy bread for my wife and
children" thought Robert. instantly.
A vision OF the comfort which the money
would bring that cherries room lighted up
his heart for an instant, but then--fOr he was
not dishOnest-there came another thought.
The money was not his, much as he wanted
But cannot see my wife and children
keep the money, God will pardon the offense
He will understand my motive"
All this was sophistry, and he knew it. In
moment he felt 1t to be so. There were
some things worse than starvation. 1t was
his wife who said this just before he came
out, Soni ,t, ne ne, meet her gaze when he re-
I've lived honest SO far" he thought; 81
won't turn thief now"
1t was with an effort he came to this de-
cisioD, for all the while there was before his
eyes that vision of a cherries home, and he
could hear Jimmy vainly asking for fool.
1t was with an effort that he stepped forward
and placed his hand on the tradesman's
shoulder, and extended the hand that held
the pocket book.
"Thank you," said Mr.. Grimes, turning
round; 81 hadn't perceived my loss. / am
| much obliged TO YOU"
"You have reason to be-" said Robert, in q
low voice. 81 was very near keeping it,"
THAT would have been dishonest" said
Mr.. Grimes, his tone altering slightly.
Eyes, ii would; but il is hard TO be honest
when one is penniless, and his wife and
| children without a crust.'
"Surely You and your children are not in
| that condition." said the tradesman, earn
estly.
"Yes," said Robert, cit is only too true.
| For two months i have vainly sought for
| work. l applied toyou two days since"
| 81 remember you now. / thought / had
| seen you before. You still want work"
| Il should feel grateful for it,
| my foreman left me yesterday. Will YOU
take his place at twenty-five dollars a
| week."
Thankfully, sir; / would for half that"
| "Then come Tomorrow morning, or, IA
! Their, as tomorrow will be a holiday, the day
succeeding. Meantime, take this tor your
| present necessities"
He drew from his pocket some notes, and
| handed them to Robert.
| "Wby, you have given me thirty dollars"
| said Robert, in amaZement.
| 81 know it, The pOcketbook contained five
| thousand dollars. But for you, / should
4 no yuh \ wis Won