The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1884-02-21
KEPT Till CALLED FON. I"
BY MRS. w. j. BAYS.

Its al we'll enough for your highly
tightly rich folk to keep Christmas.
Where's the use in our a-doin' it? L
'aint had square meal in month, an
Pd.rather have baked beans than plum
puddin' any day. Shake the ashes out
o. that old rusty pot. Doll, an pick out
whatSe can fur the fire. Lor how the
wind bowls, an the old roof creaks !!
Listen! what's that noise?"
Was it the surf beating on the rocks,
or hungry demon bowling through
the storm?
II don't hear nuthin', Pop"
But do. Hark! there it is again"
The boy flung a handful of half
burned Goals on the fire, and then flat
tened his nose on the window-pane in
the effort to hear what his fathers
keener ear had caught.
"'Tain't no use, Doll; these here Goals
amt no good. III so out an git some
drift-wood."
Its all wet and won't burn" Doll
had lugged the Goals all the way from
the village ash heap on account of
the storm, and in hopes of having a
little cheerful warmth.
so you won't keep Christmas, Pop?"
he asked, again returning to the sub
jeot they had been discussing.
keep it?-no. There's that noise
again. I'm goin' out. Jist you stay
here, an hold on to things, or mebbe
we'll be drownded out afore mornin'."
Doll held the door as his father
plunged into the darkness, or the wind
would have prevented its being shut
again.
Wrapping himself in an old pea
jacket much too big for him, Doll sat
down to await his fathers return. 1t
was after this fashion that his thoughts
ran:
ME an fathers lived all alone here
as long rs L can remember. We amt
had much TO eat an drink an wear, an
1 amt had no schoolin'. CLAIMS is
about all we've got, an eff it warn't fur
clans we might as well be drownded,
an done with it"
Then he drew from his pocket a
crumpled half-sheet of an illustrated
paper, and gazed longingly at the
picture of Christmas dinner party on
it. Around bountiful table were the
chubby faces of well-fed children, look
ing With delight OF an immense plum
pudding. Sprigs of holly and wreaths
of evergreen, with the usual branch of
mist ctoe, decked the page. Besides
this there was the old story in the
cornei s--the three Wise Men on their
camels in the desert, the bright star
above guiding them, the old inn at
Bethlehem, the manger, and the Blessed
Babe.
What did it all mean? In vain he
spelled out word or two. He could
not understand it.
Meantime the wind ratified at the
latch, and howled down the chimney,
and shrieked through every loop-hole.
Doll was getting sleepy, and the fire
was almost out. Why didn't Pop come
back? Should he go to bed, or would
he wait? Fatigue soon settled the
question, for he fell asleep in the rock
ing-chair.
Waking late in the night, he found
that the wind had died down, and the
storm was over.
Where was Pop? He must find out,
for he and Pop were all in all to each
other. Opening the door, he crept out.
He had not gone far when he saw
something queer. Under q jutting rock
a big bundle seemed to be lying, all
twisted up with ropes and sea-weed and
broken timbers.
Doll looked and looked; then he went
nearer, then little nearer still, and at
last he touched the bundle cautiously.
AS he did so, something cried. What
was it? and who was it that Rugged
something so tight? Surely not-yes,
it was-Pop!