The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1879-12-27
4 PdNnbrOkar as Santa Claus.
BY HAROLD FREDERIC.

A warm, muggy, dampish day was
that which come before Christmas of
1873, and Boston Is never dingier than
on such days. The common was clad in
mantle Of snow, but it looked moist
and uninviting. The streets all wore
the same livery of chocolate tinted mud,
into which the big wet fakes melted as
they fell. Over this the heavy drays
groaned lab0rously, and through it the
swift sleighs cut with EXPERIMENTING
ClangOr of clashing bells. Now and
then huge mass of snow would come
sliding down from roof above, with a
great splashing as it broke upon the
walk. The streets were thrOnged. One
was conscious of an air of preparation in
everything. The whirling visions of
iiveried coachmen, charming female
faces, and dazzling robes, With their
accompaniment of mutHed hoof beats
and chime Of jingling silver, seemed to
tell Of childish glee en- the morrow.
The wonderful thTOngs of people which
poured In ceaseless streams up and down
the central arteries of the city, bore
with it the inspiration of coming Christ
mas. The chimes to the west of the
Garden were ringing out joyous notes
Butcher boys lodged through the crowd
with suggestive bundles, out of which
protruded long black claws which limited
at toOthsOme pleasures. There was the
clerk from Milk street with superb
LOngfeilow under his arm which had
cost a weeks wages, and which was to
go to serious schoolmistress, who had
written:
II oil, a
on the puce-c0lored page in his autograph
book; here the CHEEKY mother fastening
for the Brighton car, her arms loaded
with parcels, and her eyes cleaning with
pleasure not difficult to understand;
here the pretty schoolgirl, there the
dotlng NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS. faces
upon which the coming daY had set its
seal of hope and happiness.
No, not everywhere. Here is little
girl slowly crossing the Common, upon
whose thin features there rests only the
signet Of sorrow, She is scantilv clad
Her bent, ragged shoes sink into the
drenchlng snow at every step. Her dress
is old I'D rent. She is a tiny creature,
with face so wan and pale that one
sees only two great brown eyes, red and
blurred by tears, and quivering lips
which tell a piteOus tale. 1t is lost on
tne passer-by, each eager with thoughts
of what the morrow brings for him.
Though the day is mild, she finds itcold
Her fingers, as they meet about bulky
bundle in her arms, look painfully red.
The others have joys of their own.
Let us go with the little one.
The cracked bell il Bowdoin Square
rings out a ghostly six o'clock she
comes to the end of her Journey. Our
little one stops in front of tall, dismal
house of dingy brick, with q narrow
black door at one side. The rest is given
over to a pawnbroker, whose rusty wares
are sprawled behind the stained snd ill
lighted panes in unattractive chaos
She opens the narrow door and is lost in
the darkness of the hallway. Shall we
follow her.
Paint to yourself an attic long, low
and dark, with two small windows which
hook out upon dull outline of irregular
roofs, against gray sky. We are in the
tenement part of the city now and the
roots aIe hung with squalid garments,
depending straight and motionless in
1ie wei air. BY the aid of g candle
nniou our httle one places upon the
oafe table, we can look about. There is
no carpet upon the floor. In one end
stanas a stove, poor tumble down affair,
mo tRe CRATE OF which her numb fing-
eis are Isylng paper and splinters of
hooa from an old barrel stave. There
Il big basket Of linen, 8 smaller one
with GO !, chair, q wooden bench upon
winch stands tub, soap box with S
cover and an old chest, such SIS sailors
use. That is all.
Josephlne-so our little onei is baptised
lakes from the box a smallish piece OF
oresd, and eats, standing meanwhile by
the stove and warming her bands over
the now roaring fire. As she stand.
thus, We can see that she has womanly
lace. The nose and chin are childish
enough, and the head is almost infsntile
N form. But the eyes are cd and large
and serious. The light from the broken
crate shines upon her bsre feet. They
look far more comfortable than the ole
Wet ones.
Supper over, the girl opens the un
couth bundle and sorts over its content
swiftly, dumping them into the tub on,
by one. Then cloth is spread upoI
the table, and the work of ironing be
gins. 1t will last until midnight. A
she stands upon the chest, bending owe
her labor, the yellow light framing he
oaoy head, let US leave her She is vel
Used le solitude. She is twelve yesr