The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1881-12-21
ONE MANS CHRISTMAS.

/ "Papa let me keep him-please do
lie looks so lonesome, just as if hi
| mother had died, too; and he looks ST
hungry, and shivers so in the cold
Please do, papa. See his eyes; they
just seem begging you to, and as if h'
wanted you to see his poor leg, and tC
lmake you understand how cold and hun
cry he is. Why, papa, l don't believe
he ever had enough to eat in his life :
and the quivering little voice died ou
altogether in sobs, as he took the pool
little starved dog into his arms and hel6
Ihim against his breast.
/ The father, stern-looking man, whose
hat was circled round with wide banC
iof Grape, looked down with a smile OF
rare tenderness as he said ''Why, Har
/ ry, don't cry about it; you shall keeE
the little dog, if you will though he
certainly looks anything but pretty
play-thing. Come now; we will &C
home. You can call your new friend
along.
"Oh, thank you, papa! I" said the lit.
tie boy and his violet eye danced with
delight, and his transparent cheeks
flushed bright crimson with pleasure,
while the little dog limped along after
him, encouraged by the childish voice,
sometimes raised with delight at the
new acquisition, again to fall withinfnite
pity for the starved lite dog.
When they reached home they were
met by the housekeeper, with torrent
of excuses and objections to keeping
the dog. till little Harry said with flash
ing eyes Mrs. Perkins, were you ever
hungry and cold and sick, without any
home to go to or any one to love you ?"
All Of a sudden the housekeeper's pale
face flushed, and tears came into her
eyes as she turned hastily away and
busted herself with other affairs for a
moment Then she turned and came
back, saying "Well dear, shall we take
him down to the kitchen and see what
we can do for him"
Eyes said Harry, ''for l guess he
needs something, and that pretty soon.
Come, doggie."
They went out Ieav1ng the EIEIer
alone, and he threw himself into an
easy chair before the fire and clasped
his hands before his eyes, saying: "He
is like her, so like and so frail Who
but he would want to take that misera-
BILE little dog? 1t was always her disposi-
ton to do so too; and the more wretch
ed.the case the more interest she took in
it. My God how his look went to my
heart when he pleaded 50. It was like
hers when she lay dying and begged me
with almost her last breath to forgive
my poor sister, who ran off with that
wretch who had died drunkard' |
always said / never would forgive nor
sperk to her, but if [ could find her
now she should always live with me.
Well, Harry" This to Harry, who
stood by his fathers chair, with his
face flushed and eager.
go, papa, if you could see the little
doggie now. Mrs. Perkins has washed
him all over, and put salve on his poor
leg, and she says it was broken; and fed
him. He wouldn't eat until he got up
on his back legs and walked along lit
tie, and then made bow-you have no
idea what a gentleman he is, only he
isn't very handsome, you know"
The father took his little motherless
boy into his lap, and when there he
gave long sigh, and lay YEARLY down
on his fathers breast, saying, 81 am
very tired, papa, what makes me get
tired so easy now didn't use to, but
now every time l go up stairs it makes
something jump so in here (placing his
hand over his heart) that / can't hardly
breathe, and | don't care about playing
ball any more, and | never ride my
rocking horse now"
so! my God !" said the father with
white lips, as he all at once saw that
the frail boy was pale and thin, even
to emaciation. Why, he asked himself,
had he not seen it before. 1t was all
plain now, and the sight of the color
less cheeks and listless air made him
remember other things; fits of almost
frantic excitement followed by prostart-
ing weariness, nights when the childish
form was never still, tossing and start
ing days when the delicate appetite
failed and the weary eyes seemed to
turn with loathing from the tempting
food hours while the child lay about
on the rug at his feet, or on sofa, and
when asked why he did not go out and
play on the lawn, answered simply, .Pm
tired
He saw it all now too plainly. He
saw all through that first summer of
bereavement, while he had given up to
grief for his lovely young wife, his child
had been fading with the summer, de-
caying with the autumn, and he now
felt was dying with the winter.
Harry lay on his fathers breast till
at last he fell asleep. Then laying him
tenderly down on the sofa, the startled
man went out, called Mrs. Perkins, and
pointing to the sleeping child, whose face
was pale as q Gala lily, and with lips
ike the lilac blossoms, said: is he
dying, Mrs. Perkins, like his mother :"
ssOh, don't, Mr.. Edward r said she,
with gush of silent tears.
You have seen it, then 2 said he.
81 was not sure, and / couldn't bear
to distress you; but / fear il il 50.
ssStay with him; / viii fetch DR..
Bennett" !" and the stricken father hur-
ried out while the good old housekeeper
sat down and looked at the child
through her fast falling tears. She
thought The lambl IkneW il was Of
no use, for no one can cure heart disease,
but if be had had any eyes he must have
kept the lamb from excitement, and
have taken al the care could Of him,
and done for him all / did for his mother
but be never thought it possible. All,
WE'LL We al have 10 wake % trouble
some time.
Soon the doctor, accompanied By the
father, came II, and the old man, who
had been not only physician but friend
and adviser . The dead young mother