The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1876-12-22
e, neither-w where | sleep in the gar.

nIne, neither-where sleep in the gar
ret"
No mother How do you get alongG'
e .asped John. "Who tucks you into he,
+ nj hears your prayers, and puts out thu
| ght for you, and gets your Sunday clothe,
I MT of the drawer, and makes the Christ
I nas pudding9"
Il guess nobody makes any pudding
:, N" and amt any other clothes in the
drawer"
My !" said John, beginning TO doubt
his ears. But you have the wishbone
don't you9" Frightening.
"The what 2"
"The wishbone out of the Christmas
| turkey. Don't you knowT'
Don't have any turkey. | reckon
Christmas amt any different from mos
any day down in this alley. I dunno
| nothing about"
"How awful I" said John. "Im dread
full sorry. l thought there was enough
Christmas to go all round. Perhaps,'-
thoughtfully-" perhaps I've had more'n
my share. I didn't mean to-"
A boy with no mother, and no other
clothes, who didn't hang up his stocking.
nor have any Christmas dinner, nor any
golden dreams of Santa Claus, nor any
Christmas presents--how did he contrive to
lives
But you're going to hang up your
stocking to night, amt you ?" asked John
not fully persuaded that lie understood his
own ears.
"'Twouldn't be no use, unless they was
wet" said the urchin.
Anyway, you'll have cake and some
walnuts tomorrow. Everybody does,
cause it's Christmas, you know
81 guess Christmas don't come down
this way. I'm going to help the baker
carry home his beans and bread tomorrow
though; and he is going to give me loaf,
and maybe he'll throw in one of them tarts
Who knows? say, l wish twas to. NOR
row now"
And amt going to have any Christmas
but loaf of bread And no turkey,
nor wishbone, and nothing in your stock
ing, and you're going to wear your every
d'y clothes, and they've got oh-oh dear !!
| should hate to bel mean I'm dreadful
sorry I'll tell you what III dol You
shall have Christmas. I've had lots Of
'em. and guess its your turn now You
shall go and have my Christmas and I'll
stay here and have yours, and carry the
bakers loaves for him"
"Oh wouldn't be so mean !" said the
urchin. ruefully.
1T amt mean to take Christmas pres
sents, I tell you. Here you just put on my
overcoat-'cause there amt any other over
coat at home; and you run up to my
home you'll know it by the fountain that
doesn't splash any more, in the yard and
you walk in at the end door-'cause may
be your feet II be snowy | do and tell
my mother you're going to be me till after
Christmas, and I'm going to be you; and"
taking the silver thimble out of his pocket
gingerly, "and p'raps you'd better say
sent this But then it wouldn't be all
your Christmas, would it? No; you may
give it to her your own self, and I'll Garry
the bakers loaves, and
I'm afraid it'll seem wuss a-comin back
afterwards" sighed the urchn.
And Just then Johns father and mother
who had begun to miss HIM and to worry
because he stayed so late, suddenly boun-
ced upon the two, chatting before the ba-
kerry window. and carried them both nome.
to keep Christmas. And the urchin's turn
had come indeed; and he never failed of
a holiday after that, though he once said
i" it seemed as if every day was Christmas
since his turn has come" -Independen