Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1884-12-11

had seen in the wonderful great city.
John turned up the collar of his overcoat
and tucked in the blanket closely around
him, for he faced the wind, and the snn-
set sky looked angry and lowering. In
fact, in less than half an hour snowfakes
began to fall, at first slowly and softly,
then faster and faster, until the air grew
thick and misty with the quickly falling
fakes.
The stout horses bent their heads to
the gusts Of wind that whirled the snow
in their faces, and John urged them on
CHEEKY tones. Once he stopped and
lighted his lantern, which he carried for
such emergencies, and the rays fell far
into the road ahead, just enough to make
darkness visible.
As the horses paused at the top of a
steep hill to regain breath after their
long pull, John thought be heard a fee
Bile cry on the side of the road. He list
ened intently and heard it repeated. He
hurriedly snatched up the lantern and
quickly proceeded in the direction from
whence the sound came, and there, by
the rays Of the light which he carried,
and all cuddled up under blanket
shawl, was a baby about nine months
old.
''My certesln exclaimed John. 'I've
found my Christmas box. Poor, wee
lambkinl What hard-hearted wretch
left you here to die, poor little inno-
cent2n
The baby stopped crying and looked
at him with her finger in her mouth and
her great blue eyes fixed, half in wonder,
half in fear, on his plying face. John
held out his arms cooxingly, and smile
came over the baby face and 5000, coo, y
broke in lisping tones from the rosebud
mouth. He tenderly lifted the little
creature, and opening his coat folded her
in close to his great warm heart.
No sound save that of the bitter wind
disturbed the stiffness, no track of any
living being was to be found, and John,
with his burden in his arms, clambered
back into his wagon, and, closely nest
ling the little one, chirruped to his stout
horses, that knew the road too well to
need much watching.
Presently looking down, he saw his
baby fast asleep, her long Iashes lying on
her soft cneek: and quietly and gently
he drew out his warm buffalo robe and
cast about in his mind for place in
which to lay his sleeping charge. The
large empty box, which had borne his
poultry to market, caught his eye. and
placing in it his warm, comfortable, robe,
he made soft bed for his Christmas
present; SO he nestled her down among
the skins and covered her with his over
coat.
He did not mind the cold, although
his face glowed scarlet and he had to
swing his arms and clap his hands to
keep the blood in circulation; but he
whistled merrily to his good horses, that
ratified on with increased speed and soon
drew up before the gate of his farm
house.
The door was opened and the figure of
a woman appeared, peering into the
darkness; the light Of candle she
shielded with her hand falling upon the
black eyes and eager face of Dolly, who
stood with her head pushed out under
her mothers arm.
"Margery, shouted John to his wife,
come see my Christmas box. Give
the light to David and let him hold it
here in the wagon. Here, give me both
your hands, said John, STOPPING down
and helping his wondering wife into the
wagon; and there, quietly sleeping, her
rosy cheek close to the soft skins, lay
Johns Christmas box.
Her mother-heart was touched, and,
opening to this homeless waif, she bore
her into her own happy home, looking
already upon her as her own.
Who could depict DollY's delight at
this ''real live baby?" Not even the
great magni6cence of the new purchase
or the purchase of the box of candies
could compare in her estimation, with
this newly-found treasure.
The baby girls quaint, serious ways
were never-faiIing source Of delight,
and Dolly wondered how she could
have cared for her stupid baby, that
could not crow or laugh or poke its
little fingers into her eyes and pull her
hair, and once again Margery and John
grew young in watching and guarding
their Christmas box.
Years rolled on, bringing their usual
change of joy and sorrow, Of good and
evil fortune; had left their traces in
wrinkles and gray hairs on the middle
aged, ,and opened the gates of Heaven to
many of the old; had changed romping
school children into strong men and
sweet, winning maidens. But the old
farmhouse still stood, looking very lit
tie older than it did seventeen years ago
this Christmas Eve.
Surely time hath dealt gently here;
there sits John, as ever-his hair more
thickly mixed with grey, his brow more
wrinkied, but with soft sadness in his
eyes that was new to them.
A young woman sits by the window
tying close, warm hood on a chubby
baby, the.very miniature of John, and
the young mother is q fac-simile of the
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