Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1884-1886, 1884-12-25
ONE CHRISTMAS MORN.

moment as If some one had stabbed me.
! was guilty without cri me. Doing only
Us millions of Others has done, l laid up q
harden of guilt which has humbled me q
thousand times in the presence of men,
twas Christmas eve and the city was in
excitement. 1t seemed as if every human
being in the big city who had money to
buy with anda friend to buy for was to
contribute to the joy of the morrow. l had
money aud wife and children. l was
warmly clad and in the best of health. The
bitter cold was nothing to me, and those at
home had every comfort.
l halted with the crowd before a grand
show window, and there, so near that l
could have pulled her rags, was one Of my
victims. She was woman of fifty, gaunt
pinched, ragged, and great black eyes which
had the look of some hunted animal. Isaw
all this at glance, and turned away. What
was il TO me whether she wore silk or rags!
Why should / care whether she was penni-
less or had plenty. Was it my business to
ask whether she had food or fre-whether
she was wife or widow-whether children
waited for her in some wretched room, or
whether she lived alone and had money
horded mp.
You wouldn't have asked. Not one man
in ten thousand would have cared. What is
one poor old woman more or less to tine
crowds who surged up and down the busy
streets of busy city?
was going home with presents for all
with bright anticipations-with gratitude in
my heart that 1 had one to love, when the
woman met me face TO face. Snow
fakes were falling on the old
shawl covering her head, and the
face which hunger had pinched was pinched
again with Geld. Her great, fear-haunted
eyes looked squarely into mine as she held
out her hand. She did not speak. The
bare arm-the skeleton fngers-.he rags
were enough.
Then ! committed foul crime. | did not
her. | read her poverty and her suffering
in a single glnnce, and I turned away and
passed on. She was beggar. Perhaps
she was drunkard rs well. How did /
know that she had not been released from
the work-house that very afternoon, If she
was old and poor and friendless. her place
was in the poor-house.
/ looked baci, over my shoulder and there
she stood, hand outstretched towards ae rs
if she were praying to God to soften my:
heart and bring me back, and had fsi'h that
He would answer her prayer.
but did not halt; felt a stab, but con-
quered it, and said to my accusing consci-
ence: BE still. you might give every dollar
you possess to the poor, and you would re-
ccive no thanksr'
That night when all the little stockings
had been filled, and wife and / had expressed
our gratitude for the blessings oflife and the
good health which had been ours for years.
| slept to dream. l dreamed of the gaunt
woman who had asked for aims, dreamed
of howell in which there was neither food
nor fire nor lamp. | dreamed that follow
ed her home and heard mones and sobs and
prayers US | listened at the door. | tried to
open it, bat it would not yield, | tried to
cry out that | had come to help her, but
the words would not come. / wanted to
give hsr money, and tell her that had mis-
judged her and would help to make it a hap
py Christmas by sending food and fuel, but
while | struggled to speak form stole past
me into the wretched abode and whispered:
at is too late ~
When the morning dawned l could not
rest. | hurried out and walked the streets
scanning every face and figure, and hoping
against hope that would meet my victim.
/ could not find her. Then left the streets
and journeyed through alleys where had
seen the pale faces of the poor peering
through shattered panes. By-and-by came
to a time-beaten, misunderstanding howell halt
buried under the snow. Frost covered the
panes and snow had drifted over the door
step. / looked for smoke from the chimney
bat none came forth. | listened for sounds
of human voicss, but listened in vain.
ThenI felt myself criminal, and trembled
as if the law had laid its hand. upon me.
would have run away, but some strange
power prevented and urged me nearer.
knocked at the door. No answer. tapped
on the window. All WAS silent
Then opened the door anG stepped in.
had committed murder, and like other muir.
derers had been drawn back to the scene By
some strange fascination. In chair-ths
only one in the hovel-sat the woman who
had held out her hand to me. Her face wa.
he'd in her hands, and she seemed to hsv.
shriveled up. On the bed-on the rags ant
straw covered with the rags, and locked IL
each others arms were the children-a CIR
of nine and boy Of twelve. On the wal
near by were two stockings-fadcd ant
ragged and worn, bu; hung there for SAINT
Claus.
The stockings were empty. touched tn
woman and called: GOOD morning." bu
she did not move.
| bent over the children and shouted
Merry Christmas :" but they did no
awake.
They were dead, In my dream l hst
seen a spectre pass me and enter. II va
the spectre of death. Hunger and cold ans
sickness and despair had invited him in.
And I-where is my defense. could
have given, and did not One single coli
would have given them bread that night
The hundrcdth part Of the contents Of m,
purse would have lighted and warmed Ans
fed them and placed tokens Of 9 mother
love in the rssged stockings
That was my crime. IL accuses me b,
day and GENES to me in my dreams BY nigh,
give and give. but that voice is ever wh:s
pcSins: at i too lste,'
THE LIGHT THAT IS FELT.