The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1882-12-22
A COMMONPLACE CHRISTMAS
STORY.
BY ROBERT j. BURDETTE.

1t was not very cheerful apartment
in which Wilson McWhyrter opened
his eyes Christmas morning. His real
name was Wilson McWhyrter, but his
business name was "Gubbs." Nobody
knew why everybody called him
@Gubbs," but nobody also knew why
he was originally called Wilson Nc
Whyrter neither, so that made it even.
On this Christmas morning he was ex-
actly almost 13 years old. don't re-
member just how almost, but it was al
most; as the Tourists" say, not too al
most, but just almost enough. He was
not rich, Wilson wasn't. He wore on
this sharp, biting, Christmas morning
the same clothes he bought last June.
He bought them at rag warehouse
when the warehouse man was not look.
ing.
Wilson was not boy who was par
ticular about settling his bills, and soci-
ETY. accordingly put him in the cold and
silent jug two or three times for this
little eccentricity. If he had been old
or, and wiser, and richer, he might
have gone through life, paying 30 cents
where he owed 100, and went on build
ing more houses and buying new furni-
ture, and been respected and esteemed.
But he was too POOR and didn't know
enough for that. SO he did all his mer-
camille business in the oId-fashioned
way and got very little credit for it,
On one occasion he got ten days, but
that was the first time, and it didn't
count. He resolved that it should new
er happen so again. And it never did.
The next time it was twenty days, and
he never afterward fell below that high
standard.
Wilson was born at an early period
of his life, of poor but honest parents.
They weren't very honest, but they
were most awfully poor, so that made q
good average. Wilson didn't remember
much about them. His mother went
away with circus and never had time
to come back, and his father raised the
deserted boy on the bottle. Occasion
ally, as the child grew older, he raised
him on the toe of his boot. Wilson
never went to school but once, and then
it was to the Reform School, and he
ran away two days before his time was
out. He never went to Sunday-school,
and if he ever knew any good thing, he
had forgotten it long ago. And if there
was anything bad that he didn't know,
he was going to learn it before he went
to bed If he had to sit up all night. A
hopeful, very hopeful subject for
Christmas gift, Wilson was.
When he rolled out of his miserable
bed Christmas morning, he didn't look
for anything in his stocking. In fact,
he didn't look for his stocking, because
he had none. Not solitary stocking,
no more than if he had worn peg legs.
In fact the peg-leg gedest man that ever
stamped around the streets with curb
stone orchestra of the circular pattern,
never ignored stockings more complete
~ than this thriitless boy.
Nor did he look for his father. He
had a father; one father And that was
Just one more than he had stockings.
Most men with two feet have at least
one more stocking than they have
fathers, but Wilson McWhyrter was an
exception to this rule. He did not look
for his father, because he knew tin 1t his
father did not require to be looked
after. He was too well looked after
already, that was the trouble with him.
He was in the work-house, which is so
called because nobody stays there and
goes there except people who cannot
and will no. work. And Wilson Nc
Whyrter's father belonged to that
church. He was member in good
standing and full fellowship
As he left the wretched tenement
which was his home, there was nothing
attractive about this boy. His face was
as freckled as his clothes were ragged,
and his mouth was as much TOO large as
his eyes were too small. The only ex-
preston that shone out of his eyes was
cunning; the cunning of the wolf rather
than the fox; cunning that was mingled
with ferocity. He hated society and
law. for society and law had never paid
any ate ltion to him except to cuff him ;
to kick him; to starve him into rags and
uglines; and then avoid him for being
ragged and ugly; TO starve him into
theft and then lock him up in prison
for stealing. At this very moment he
wanted something to eat. His supper
he had lifted, with more manual dex-
terity than moral rectitude, from an
apple. stall and lunch counter. His
breakfast was yet an unsolved problem.
If you could have read the boys mind
you would have seen him thinking:
81 must nag a wipe"
A Christian man, of liberal education
and broad culture, would steal hand
kerchief. Wilson McWhyrter, being
an ignorant, darkened child of poverty,
would simply "nag wipe"
To get his hand in, as he went along,
he stole two newspapers from door
steps. hooked tin pail that had been
set out for the milkman, broke win
dow, kicked dog, and slapped boy
and took his comforter from around his
neck.