The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1883-12-19
A TRUE CHRISTMAS STORY

Saturday night! Thousands Of
people filled the streets and avenues.
The shop windows were brilliant
with gas and electricity; life and
warmth everywhere on the inside
cold and discomfort everywhere on
the outside. Express wagons dash
here and there with their freight of
holiday goods; the street cars crackie,
the elevated trains roar and every
thing is astir. Private carriages are
carefully driven through the press
The coachmen are warm in fur and
the horses are covered with comfort
able blankets. Stand on the corner
of Sixth avenue and Fourteenth
street, where the crowd is densest,
and watch a while. Women in
warm fur lined cloaks. women in
costly skins of animals, women in
satin, women in cloth, so NE shiver-
ing with the scantiness of their cloth
ing. Men with bundles in their
arms and bundles hanging out Of
their pockets men without bundles
and very few pockets to put anything
in. A rushing, pushing, good ma
tured throng going up and down
and across with unceasing clatter.
1t is practically Christmas Eve and
everybody is happy. Even the
tramp rejoices at the expected liber-
ality of the saloon keeper. Every
body is smiling.
Everybody?
No; not everybody. Standing
back near the corner and in the
shadow of the house is a woman.
Her clothes, heaven help her, would
be scanty in September. Around
her body and head is wrapped a
plaid shawl, old and thre bare, the
like of which the coachinan sitting
on his box within twenty feet of her
would not use to wipe the dust from
his carriage her hands are bare and
pale and thin; her hair is stringy
and gray her face-despair.
Oh, yes, but she's tramp, pro-
fessional beggar, hundreds say TO
themselves as they hurry by, scarce
ly deigning to look at her.
But is she?
For an hour she has been stand
ing where she is and not once has
she asked aims of anyone Present
ly, pushing through the crowd,
comes a tall man with a peculiar
face. No man in New York is better
known. His pictures are to be
found on every side, his name. is a
household word where English is
spoken. His face is strong and hard,
his eye has cold glitter he walks |
slowly, seemingly engrossed in his |
OWN thoughts. But the great arch I
Of his forehead means benevolence,
# the conformation of a mans head .
means anything. People stare at
him, policemen touch their caps TO
him as he passes. Slowly he comes
along, a marked man among thou /
sands. He nears the ewoman. Sud-
lenly the eye that seems to see
1othing sees her. The grave face
ooks graver. He turns out of the
ide and hands something to her.
She is not quick enough, and the
,oin rolls on the pavement at her
'eet. The grave man stoops and
picks it up, despite her protest, and
puts it in her hand. The long, thin
ingers close over it. 1t is the largest
hey have held for many day. The
pale, water eyes fill with tears. The
nan with sterner face and cold
n eve, passes on. The woman re-
mains. She looks at the coin and
seems TO hesitate then starts slowly
oward the west side of the city with
he money in her hand. Despite her
-ags there is something graceful in
ler walk something peculiar in the
poise Of her head.
A pawnbroksr's shop,
The narrow door swings on its
hinges with much creaking, for
pawnbroker's hinges are nearly al
ways rusty. Within long counter
and at one end a number of stalls.
Behind the counter several men
with bushy boards and sharp, ques-
tioning eyes. Before the counter a
motely throng, for it is Christmas
Eve to the pawnbroker, too. The
request for advances are tremblingly |
made the answers are sharp, short |
and decisive. There is no appeal
from the dread judgments of these
autocrats of the poor.
Sure, them two feather pillows is
worth more than seventy-fve cents,
says little woman scarcely five feet
high. i guv four dollars piece for
them when nv husband was nv