Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1884-01-05

Ing, has sttllcu Oh uSI spiIit-
"a baby. smIie led on TO that peace
A ehiid's hand may yet bring that happiness"
Once every few years old Dame Nature
gets snappish. even in our sunny South
land, and petulantly dofiing all the tender
trappings Of youth, shrouds herself
severely in browns and grays. Sometimes
toward mid winter. in milder humor. she
dons a snowy mantle. and for one short
half day or more lets US see her as she
looks TO Northern eyes. Such humor
was she In the night before Christmas six
years from the date OF my story.
The snow had commenced falling about
noon. and some truant flakes were still
coming noislessly down.
Before a brilliantly lighted window.
filed with all sorts Of toys tor the wallet
of old st. Nicholas. stands George Courte-
ney now DIR. Courteney, grown somewhat
broader, browner and more careworn than
in the past.
This is the first night of his return to
his native city. The years between have
been spent abroad in untifing devotion to
the study Of medicine.
The same pride. differing a little in de-
gree. that kept Alice from using the
wealth that would have surrounded her
home with comforts, has held him back
from seeking to claim again that love that
would have filled his heart with happi-
ness.
In all the years that have passed he has
never made one inquiry as to the where
abouts of wife and child. and they have
been given no clue to his.
To night, for the first time. he realizes
with a shock like one just awakening
what an unnatural parent he has been.
and how wilfully wicked and selfish
Standing before q shop window on a
cold wntry night, is scarcely place for
q retrospect, but the pretty toys designed
for pretty baby fingers. touched into quick
err throbs the deadened pulses of his heart,
and reused from their stupor some long
silent and heavily drugged memories.
Where. this evening, was his little
daughter. and who would fill her Christ
mas stocking for her? He who should
have been her Santa Claus had made of
himself an exile from his own hearth.
In a rush OF remorseless tenderness he
turns away from the bright plaything and
starts sadly down the bauquette.
A little girl running quickly along must
tor she stops and Juggling gently at his
overcoat. asks in hurried, childish treble:
Please, sir. are you good man ?"
Not very. little one but | will be good
TO you2 What do you want?"
90" the dark eyes now swimming in
tears. ''my poor mamma. is so sick and
can't find doctor and want some one to
come and help her. She has gone to sleep
aud I bar
Had DIR. Courteney's heart not been full
already Of winsome little baby faces. he
could not have resisted her touching ap-
peal.
Telling her that he was doctor and
would make her mamma we'll. and for her
not to cry. he grasps more firmly the lit
tie hand that clings so trustingly to his.
and hurries along.
Down the lighted streets. across quiet
square that looks. in the moonlight. like a
hit of fairylsud pinned to the earth. into a
narrow side road where the homes of the
poor abound. they silently make their way.
The child has come far in her search for
doctor. and is now too tired to talk.
Something in the touch of the small fin
gers, something in the restful stiffness of
the night. unlocks the mans heart and
makes it open to all divine influences.
Over him seems to brood that peace and
good will that is everyone's glad heritage
this blessed season.
In tender. fanciful mood he even thinks
that this slight form at his side may be
one of Gods little misrepresentation we
all know are abroad to night-leading him
Oh. but here is the door. and Elsie,
for it is she. is running IN ahead and beck
oning him to follow.
In the plain shabby room the physician
finds only poor. tired woman in a swoon
from over-exsrtion; but George Courte-
ney. with one glad cry, recognizes in the
unconscious face the features of his wife.
Alice. now to be more warmly loved. more
fondly cherished than ever in the days of