The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1877-12-21
John Hollands Merry Christmas.

The day before ChSsstmas every store
window was wreathed in green, every
rare and beautiful thing exposed to
tempt the passer-by was labeled d" Christ
mas gift" Even the corner groceries
and baker shops had green beughs and a
generous display of ginger bread horses
and white-sugsr hearts enriched with
gilt beading, and impossible pink fowls,
popuiarlY supposed to be doves. There
were myriads of dolls and hundreds of
sleds, with names taking in the whole
animal kingdom. The streets were crowd
ed 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 earlier
than usual, made his way slowly through
these waves Of happy womanhood, carry
ing bis aching head little forward,
watching with sullen eyes the Joy about
him, until the tide of the bitterness in
his heart rose high, and forced from his
lips curse on the morrow that would
bring sc much happiness to Others and 50
much misery to him. 4 lonely man was
John Holland, over whose dead past
stood 10 monumental marble with name
and ate thereon-a weary man by
his dropping shoulders and uncer-
tsal gaIv-1IA IaII11esfsfJ ~
che wistful look that crept now
and then into his sullen eyes. And 50
IN weary, lonely fashion he walked
on, leaving the city far behind, and COM
ing at last upon a country road that
wound its rough, snow-powdered length
through shrubby hOllOws and up the
hills between leafess gray-barked tress.
Now and then a thin sheet of ice cracked
beneath his feet-he did not hear it
above his head, close 10 the soft, gray
clouds, fat, inky crows sailed round and
round, cawing ompanionably-he did
not heed them; while here and there the
bare, brown fingers of some shrub or
tree held out to him bunch of scarlet
berries, which he did not see. All the
grays and browns, touched here and there
with green and scarlet, appealed to him
in vain. Tomorrow was Christmas day
He stood alone-he made no ones happi-
ness therefore to him the world could
not be fair. He remembered how, not
many years before, 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 Christ
mas sunlight, striking through the frosted
window pane, tuFPed into FURNISHED
gold the ruddy locks of their sturdy baby
boy; and now he stumbled up the hill
side, 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 ghastly
CLEAN of ice could be seen in the river
winding far below. The wood was
darkened by many slender pines and
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, a
sound that drew his feet from the beaten
road and sent them striding through the
brown dead leaves until they brought
| him to the spot where little Ruth sat
sobbing.
A strange place to find child, yet
there she sat, fiat on the ground, her
well-worn, copper-toed shoes stretched
out before her, one little hand doubled
under her arm, as a bird draws its foot
under it's wing, the other hand grasping
with all its childish might branch o.
one of the many small hemlock trees
growing about her. So mOttled witt
cold were her face, her hands, anC
her little bare knees, she might have
passed fer a figure carved in coed ole
CASTLE soap. -
John Hollands sudden appearance
did not startle her in the least. Sh
seemed to accept him as one accept
things in dreams, without surprise o
fear.
What is the matter ?" he asked.
"Tm cold"
How strange the childish voic
sounded up there in that chill, bleal
place
What are you doing here %
"Tm waiting"
"Poor babyp' thought John Ho
land, "you are learning the great les
son early. l shonld like to know tn
brute who left you sitting here Will
he or she drinks or gossips in the tow
below"
Whe are you waiting for, child %
The chill, tear-stained little face brok
into smiles as she whispered:
"Pm waiting for Santa Claus"