Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1878-12-27

NJ his cough. uncle IOmpey helu the young
est on his knee, with his arm around its shoul-
ders, giving it an occasional trot as q reminder
that it was not forgotten Poor Old man! He
had had nothing to eat since morning, and
very little then, and was pitifully hungry.
Nevertheless, he was attempting to sing in n
high, cracked voice, tremulous with age and
weakness, and occasionally patting with his
discugaged hand to the great delight Of his
childish audience He was swapping lis fin
gers in the air and wagging his woolly head
from side to side, when the door opened and
Mrs. Radcliffe entered. Uncle Pompey rose
feebly as she did 80, and the children sprang
| forward to meet her.
"Sit down, Uncle Pompey,' she said gent
ly, you cannot hold the baby standing"
"Did you see Santa Claus, mamma = was
the eager question. rs he coming night ?"
She thought the disappointment could be
better borne now than in the morning, yet
h,sitat,d to inflict il, and the children ap-
pealed to her with incrcas, d impatience.
Look Mt the stockings, mamma Uncle
Pomp helped" said Lottie, her mamma's lit
| tie name sake.
"Did you tell Santa Claus to come and
did he say lac would = asked Willie.
no my darling. Santa Claus has so ma
ny places to go to that he cannot come here
tonight. You will have to wait" replied
Mrs. Radcliffe, her own lips tremulous as she
saw the cruel. bitter disappointment that
filed their poor little hearts. She pattcd her
boy on the head: Come, come, Willie! be
n soldier. You know you are mamma's lit
tie man and you must let the girls do the cry
ing"
Willie tried to be a soldier and returned to
his seat in the corner of the fireplace, but cv-
cry now and then his hand stole furtively
| across his cheek, which before long looked
! suspiciously besmeared.
Mrs Radcliffe endeavored to divert their
minds by bringing forth her last morsel of
bread. and proceeded to give them their sup
per, her own portion going to Uncle Pompeyi
but truth to tell, this portion was so very
small that it mattered little whether one had
| it or another.
At length the children had sobbed them
selves to sleep, Mrs. Radcliffe had taken out
her sewing, and Uncle Pompey stood leaning
with both hands on his dogwood cane, his
| legs bowed his shoulders bent, his head shak-
| ing with age and feebleness. "Well, Mis-
| Lottie,' said he, ''it do peer TO me mighty
hard for as likely passel o. chilun as desc is
not to have nary goober-pea to put in der
stockin'-not eben squib to bus An you
| 90 by the stoye, an po white trash in
dar dat ole marster wouldn't a-let hole his
hoss, jes' a-throwin' away money, an der
| pockets lin ober wild goodies to kyar' home.
You must be q mons'us Krischun IF you don't
| think hard of de Lord for 'lowin' it,"
II suppose he knows what is best for us,
Uncle Pompey" replied Mrs. Radcliffe but
she spoke lstessly, and more from the habit
Of reverence than with any present feeling.
IF it were not right suppose He would not
| permit it,"
"Well, Mis- Lottie," said Uncle Pompey
| humbly, ''you got mo- faith an is. | amt
meanin' no slight todes 'ligin. but peers to
Il MOI srffu Il futfh I
! Inns an finds it mighty hard to hole to de
faith less gifts de vittles Which | didn't
use ter have no trouble gittin' vittles Umph!
umph umph!" said the old man, making
| the calculations sound like a series of short,
mournful, retrospective grunts.
. Mrs. Radcliffe was too dispirited to talk,
and Uncle Pompey, finding nothing more to
| do, set out for home, the wretched den which
he inhabited with dozen others scarcely
more prosperous than himself. On his way
he stopped and stood looking in at the win
dow OF confectioners. There were long
rows of jars filed with candy; the ceiling
| was hung with drums and trumpets and yari-
colored lanterns and the walls were fringed
with toys of every description; the showcases
were full of attractive bonbons: and ranged
against the counters all up and down the
| floor, were boxes OF oranges and lemons and
cocoanuts and beautiful golden pippins, one
of which was worth more than Uncle Pom
pey could have earned in week. The store
was full of customers, and the clerks were
busy behind the counters weighing out the
nuts and candies which surrounded them in
such profusion and Uncle Pompey stood
looking wistfuly in, with his mind on the
three faded stockings he had left hanging by
the chimuey-the three little stockings, faded
and empty. He stood leaning with both
hands on his dogwood cane, talking aloud to
himself, as is the manner of negroes 1T
certny do peer to me pizin trick that ole
narster's gran chillun amt got SO much as a
stick o. candy or passel o. chestuuts to put
in der stockin! Cris'mus amt Crs'mu now.
Lord Lord Jus ter think how ole mars
ter's niggers use to roll i'll bacon an greens
an amt had my ill o spar rib an chine not
sence he died. Lord Lord Umph umph
umph Poor little creeturs :" he continued,
his mind reverting to the children. "Outen
all dis sto'-ful O. goodies, what de harm it
gwine to do cnnybody to Civ 'em a little o
dis an little o dat, jes' ter let 'em see CHS
mus"
Presently the door was left open for a mo-
ment, and, availing himself of the Opportu-
nifty, Uncle Pompey sdled in, taking up his
standing near a barrel of peanuts and, alas.
it was only few moments before a handful
of them disappeared; another followed and
still another, till Larum 4 Sons were poorer
by at least a quart and Uncle Pompey Legan
to think that his old masters children would
have their stockings filled, after all. But in
an evil moment his eye fell on II sugar cat
that had been left standing on the outside of
the showcase he thought how attractive it
would appear with its head peeping over the
top of Lotties stocking, and stealthily raised
his hand but hardly had the long black fin
gers closed around the saccharine temptation
when Il cry was raised from the other end of
the store of "Stop thief! You there"
"Catch him !" ETC., while every man shrank
from his neighbor and slapped his hand to
his pocket and hurriedly felt for his watch.
During the first moments of confusion,
and before the clerk who had discovered him
could make his way through the crowd, I'm
Gle Pompey managed to open the door and
get out into the street; but hardly had he
shutfled dozen steps before the door again
opened, the crowd poured forth with mans
instinct for hunting, no matter how insignih-
cant the prey and though Uncle Pompey
tried hard to hasten his pace the feeble limbs
were powerless to aid his will, and he was at
once taken back TO the store, where, under
the blazing light, he stood in terror
waiting to be searched. As already said he
must have been nearly hundred years old
and was simply relic of the past. His eyes
were sunken almost out of sight, and his lit
tie fat nose seemed to have grown smaller
aud fatter and blacker still us time advanced
while his mouth had gained in huge proper
ton, and become a mere extravaganza on the
part of Nature. His hair was wiry and gray
and the stubby beard that covered his chin
was of the same complexion, and his fore
head, never in palmiest times more than an
inch and half high was now but fingers
width of duh black wrinkles. His frame was
a mere skeleton, his ragged pantaloons hang
ing almost as loose as if there were nothing
inside of them, and his wretched coat, guilt
less of elbows and ALMOST innocent of tail,
chung to his shoulders as if through the mis-
cry that loves company.
There he stood, his eyes wandering in wist-
full terror from one TO another, trembling
with cold and fright and weakness, while
they turned his poor old pockets inside out
and hunted among the rags that hung about
his shoulders and tapped around his legs and