Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1877-12-25

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legs. 4 never saw the child in the
town. He may have been broug Int
on a visit, and l suppose hs has
strayed out
What shall we do with him ?
asked Mr.. Barclay. He stood beside
the chair looking down at Box, and
Box with his head on his short arm
stared at the andirons, and the blaz-
ing log. Mrs. Barclay stood and
gazsd at both man and child. Sud
denly Box slid out Of the chair, lay
face down on the rug, and peered up
the wide chimney. Then he raised
his hand, pointed my seriously aud
whispered, That's the place, isn't it?
| What place? ? asked Mrs. Bar
clay.
Where Santa Claus comes down.
What nonsense to put in a child's
head 7 said Mr.. Barclay.
Hush, James. Don't let the little
one hear you. Let him have his child
ish faiths while IL is possible. He'll
lose them time enough.
DO you think he'll bring me my
drum and gum
Perhaps So, said Mrs. Barclay.
When will he come?'
May be tonight
| Mr.. Barclay walked toward the
door. His wife followed him.
I'll 60 out. he said, perhaps may
meet people looking for him. He is
better here keeping warm.
She stood at the door for several
minutes looking after her husband as
he walked toward the centre Of the
town, then signing, she went back to
the dining room.
Box lay asleep on the rug one lit
tie arm doing duty as pillow. Mrs.
Barclay sat in the easy chair and
watched him.
Twenty-Five years before she had
watched another lilds 5 slumbers, and
in her waking dreams had constructed
for him grand future. But something
had been lacking in the home life ;
surrounded with Injuries, the child,
as he reached boyhood had grown
melancholy and dissatisfied He came
home from college dreamy, thought
tul young man, with bis tastes devel.
oped and cultivated, and found that
his father dsspised the things that he
most loved. For two years be tried
to interest himselfin the factory from
which his father drew his income. But
it was hard. unsatisfying labor, and
the place was to him little better
than prison. Then followed some
fruitless arguments, and a bitter quar-.
rel. George Barclay turned his back
on father, mother, home and luxury,
and went away to grapple with the
world after his own fashion.
His father would not have his
name mentioned before him. the few
letters he at first wrote to bis mother
were returned unopened, having nat
urally reached his fathers hands,
Mrs. Barclay had grown-in after that
trial. She kept her husbands house,
and saw that its costly furniture did
not suffer from moths or dust, shs su-
perintended bis meals, and received
relations and her own; but the wom-
ans heart was dead in her breast She
was a we'll regulated human machine;
her neighbors pitied her, and her hus.
band laughed at her weakness-pin-
ing after an ungrateful, thankless son.
Mr.. Barclays progress was inter.
rupted by neigh5or issuing from his
gate on his way TO church. Mr. Van
lerpool was strong religionist. and
an enthusiastic on the subject Of mu-
sic.
Barclay. ifyou've no particular en-
gagement, come into my pew for a
little while. Our new organist and
soprano make their first appearance
to-day. ! can promise you a treat,
for | was at rehearsal last night.
DO they belong here?
No, they came from New York. -
Lottimer secured them a few weeks
ago; but they had arrangements to
complete before they could leave.
We'll, I'd like to hear some good
music; but | doubt that I ought to
spare the time. We had little boy
stray to our gate this morning, and l
came out to huLt up whoever owns
him..
Why, his folks will hunt him Up,
he is safe, so come on.
So he went in. The perfume Of the
pines and hemlock was agreeable, the
dim, soft light soothing, and if the SER
vices were not interesting, sleep was
wooed by the faint music that opened
the Voluntary.
The novelty of everything however
kept Mr.. Barclay wide awake. The
music was good 80 far above the
average as to obtain perfect silence
snd attention from the congregation.
When the prelude to the anthem was