The Toledo chronicle. [volume] (Toledo, Tama County, Iowa) 1873-1924, 1876-12-14
JOHN HOLLANDS MERRY
CHRISTMAS.

CHRISTMAS.
THE day before Christmas every
store window was wreathed in green,
every rare and beautiful thing exposed
to tempt the passer-by was labeled
''ChristmaS gift" Even the corner
groceries and baker shops had green
bOughs and a generous display Of gin
ger-bread horses and white-sugar
hearts enriched with gilt beading, and
impossible pink fowls, popularity sup
posed to be doves. There were nlvri-
ads of dolls and hundreds Of sleds,
with names taking in the whole ami
NAL kingdom. The streets were crowded
with fur-clad, smiling women, who
were making the last selections Of
pretty things with which to swell out
the fair proportions Of many little
stockings.
John Holland, leaving his Office ear
lier than usual. made his way slowly
through these waves of happy womau-
hood. carrying his aching head little
forward, watching with sullen eyes
the joy about him, until the tide Of
bitterness in his heart rose high, and
forced from his lips a curse on the
morrow that would bring 50 much
happiness to others and 50 much mis-
cry to him. \ lonely man was John
Holland, over whose dead past stood
no monumental marble with name
and date thcreon-a weary man by
his dropping shoulders and uncer-
tain gait-an unhappy man 10y
the wistful look that crrpt now
and then into his sIllen eyes. And 50
in weary, lonely fashion he walked
on, leaving the city far behind, and
coming at last upon a country road
that wound its rough, snow-powdered
length through shrubby hOllow8 and up
the hills between leahess gray-barked
trees. Now and then a thin sheet of
ice cracked beneath his feet-he did
not hear it; above his head, close to
the soft, gray clouds, fat, inky crows
sailed round and round, CaWing com
panionably-he did not heed them;
while here and there the bare. brown
fingers Of some shrub or tree held out
to him a bunch Of scarlet berries,
which he did not see. All the gravS
and browns, touched here and there
with green and scarlet, appealed to
him in vain. Tomorrow Was Christ
mas Day. He stood aIOne-he made
no ones happiness; therefore to him
the world could not he fair. He
remembered how, not many years be-
fore, he and his wife stole tip-toe
through the house. to cram with
candies and many wondrouS TOYS the
little wooden stockings hanging near
the fire. He remembered how
the Christmas sunlight, striking
through the frosted window pane,
turned into FURNISHED gold the Tuddy
locks of their sturdy baby boy; and
now he stumbled up the hillside,
blind with rage and pain. Now two
mounds of chill, cold earth held all
that made life dear and precious
thing to him. At the top of
the hill he paused involuntarily
to regain his breath Up there
the wind blew keenly, the CHASTITY
CLEAN of ice could be seen in
the river winding far below, The
wood was darkened by many slender
pines and stunted hemlCck trees-a
wintry scene-and Holland thrust his
hands deep in his pockets and turned
to retrace his steps, when sound
broke the silence all about him-a
sound that set his heart a-throbbing, Il
sound that drew his feet from the
beaten road and sent them striding
through the dead brown leaves until
they brought him to the very spot
where little Ruth sat s0bbing.
\ strange place to fni child, yet
there she sat, fat on the ground. her
well-worn, copper-tOed shoes stretched
out before her, one little hand doubled
under her arm, as bird draws its foot
under its wing, the other hand grasp
ing with all its childish might branch
of one of the many small hemlOck
trees growing about her. So mottIed
with cold were her face, her hands,
and her little bare knees, she might
have passed for figure carved IN
good old CASTLE soap.
John Hollands sudden appearance
did not startle her in the least. She
seemed to accept him as one accepts
things in dreams, without surprise or
| fear.
"What is the matter?'' he asked.
L" I'm cold"
| How strange the childish voice
sounded up there in that chill, bleak
| place!
"What are you doing here?'
I'm waiting"
Poor babyr' thought John Hol-
land, "you are learning the great les
son early. l should like to know the
brute who left you sitting here while
he or she drinks or gossips in the town
below.
"'Who are you waiting for, child p
! The chill, tear-stained little face
broke into smiles as she whispered:
! I'm waiting for Santa Claus.
The answer smote him with aston
ishment, As a boy he had heard
/. much of the genial old man for whom
little Ruth was waiting, but he had
never heard of his paying visit ol
transacting any business in the day
time. So he told her; but she, look
4 ing sorrowfully wise. answered:
s.Yes, | know he goes down the
chimneys at night, but tomorrow Is
Christmas, Aunty says 80, and Santa