Morning journal and courier., 1881-12-26
Price Four Cents.

to cram with candies and many wondrous
 toys the little woolen stockings hanging near
 the fire He remembered how the Christmas
 sunlight, striking through the frosted win
 dow pane, turned into furnished gold the
 ruddy locks of their sturdy baby boy; and
 now he stumbled up the hillside, 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
 nlH he paused involuntarily to regain his
 breath Up there the wind blew keenly, the ghastly gleam of ice could be seen in the
 river winding far below. The wood was
 darkened by many slender pines and stunt l ed hemlock trees-a wintry scene-and Hol-
 land thrust his hands deep in his pockets
 and turned to retrace his steps, when 6 sound broke the silence all about him-a
 sound that set his heart a-throbbing, sound | that drew his feet from the beaten road and 1 sent them striding through the dead brown | leaves until they brought him to the very spot where little Ruth sat sobbing
 A strange place to find child, yet there
 she sat, flat on the ground, her well worn sopper-toed shoes stretched out before her. one little hand doubled under her arm, as a 1 bird draws it's foot under it's wing the other hand grasping with it's childish might l branch of one of the many small hemIock | trees growing about her. So mottled with cold was her face, her hands and her little
 bare knees, she might have passed for a fig ure carved in good old castle soap. ! John Hollands sudden appearance did not | startle her in the least She seemed to &C., cept hlm as one accepts things in dreams, without surprise or fear 1 What is the matter 2" he asked | "I'm cold"
 How strange the childish voice sounded up
 there In that chill, bleak placel 1 What are you doing here ?" l "Pm waiting"
 l Poor baby!" thought John Holland, 'syou [ arr1Tr1 klar I.,--- like to know the brute who left you sitting here while he or she drinks or gossips in the l town below"
 1 "Who are you waiting for, child ?" | The chilled, tear-stained little face broke ] into smiles and she whispered: I'm waiting for Santa Claus" The answer smote him with astonishment As boy he had heard much of the genial old man for whom little Ruth was waiting. but he had never heard of his paying visit or transacting any business in the daytime. So he told her; but she, looking sorrowfully ! wise, answered
 Yes know, he goes down the chimneys ] at night; auntie says so, and Santa Claus must come here to-day to get his trees'' ''To get his trees ?" echoed Holland, sitting down by the side of that bit of childish gray ity.
 Why, yes, his trees like this, you know" and after slow, numb sort of search for something in the depths of her pocket, her cold little hand drew out leaf of child's story book, torn and soiled. but bearing on one side highly colored picture of the good Santa Claus
 ''There," she continued eagerly, ''see the tree he has on his arm. They don't grow in the city; see, he must come up here to get them"
 'I understand but why wait here in the cold for him, when tonight he will come down your chimney with all sorts of pretty toys ?"
 'But he won't come he does not know the house is here he thinks all the boys and girls live down there in the city so when he comes to get this tree I'm going to say, Please, Santa Claus, live here on the hill Aunty says Pm pretty good. Can't I have doll baby and picture book?'"
 John Hollands voice was very tender when he spoke again to ask her name, and then he lifted her to her feet and said
 ''rll tell you what we'll do, Ruth You go home before aunty misses you and thinks you are lost and I'll stay here and watch for Santa Claus''
 She shook her head.
 You'll get tired and go away"
 'sNo I won't; I'll wait until see him." 'tTruly?"
 'tTruly" Little Ruth raised her face and Holland kissed her baby mouth.
 "Where do you live, child ?''
 "Only little way back in the woods there is the path"
 And running across the dead leaves she struck into a faint, narrow path, and, fol- lowing it, disappeared behind the trees.
 Holland watched her out of sight; then tying his handkerchief to the top branch of that tree which Ruth had selected as the very which Santa Claus most wanted turned his face cityward and strode down the hill.
 Low down in the west he noticed long golden rift in the dull grey sky, and it widen ed and broadened until the golden glory burst it's bonds and flooded all the scenes with win- try sunlight. Even so had the childish faith of little Ruth forced its way through clouds of loneliness and grief to fill his heart with sunlight. More than one woman smiled that night at John Holland as he stood in the crowded store examining with supernatural gravity dolls dressed and undressed. A light wagon carried him and his books and toys out from the city and up the woody hill to Ruth's poor home. After peering into the window like amiable burglar he summoned Ruth's aunt. A few words outside the door, gentle little laugh, a tear or two, great rustling of paper, and then the door was closed, and Holland, whist ling softly to himself, made his way to tree, from which waved a white handkerchief, and after much hacking, pulling and digging, suc- ceeded in removing it. Driving home under the starry sky great tears filled his eyes as he thought of the ''wife and baby boy gone be- fore;" there was no curse on his lips, only a tremulous smile, as he thought of the joyous awakening for lit tie Ruth tomorrow. The next day John Holland gave dinner; there were four at the table-Holland himself, Ruth Ruth's aunt, ana Ruth's doll Rosey, who ate nothing but looked lovely and smiled inde- fatigably. It would be hard to tell how many times Ruth laid her doll on Hollands knee, whereupon her waxy eyelids would in- Il, zI-z c111 s.,A, found sleep. 'Twould be harder still to tell how eagerly she questioned him as to the ex- act appearance of Santa Claus when he came for that tree-the very tree she sat beside when she was waiting.
 And John Holland telling stories to the little Ruth, hugging her precious Rosey, had indeed merry Christmas, for in making the happiness of another he had found his own.