The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1885-09-12
It B Wei.

SoPAO wiz IIdNcl over Cne PGnfSvt.
vanla Railroad know, by sight at least.
friend Of mine at the Broad street
station Of that road in PHILADELPHIA,
An officer OF tho police. On duty there.
A tall, broad-shouldered man, Of hand
some face and the physique Of an ath-
, lete, pleasant eyes, but resolute and
Keen, and a smile lurking always undor
the dark mustache. | have seldom
passed through the Gates without catclt-
ing Grasp of the hand, and he and tho
ITnce became fast friends. | don t
think l ever tailed with llim five iaIa-
utes without hearing him s..v something
about his own little boy, & bright, pret-
ty little fellow Of years. his uulv
child, and the man loved him w,t,l all
the measure of his big heart. He
couldn't help talking about him, and I
believe he dreamed about him all tho
time he wasn't talking about him
SO tall he is, my friend the of.icer.
that when we stop in the Lusv station
for few minutes chat he mast bend
his head little, Willie I must hit my
face tritle to look into the pleasant,
resolute eyes. can't help ad,iring
these great, stronr, tall men, witt, the
figure OF giadiators and the bearing of
a soldier, and this friend Of mine il
worthy Of any mans admiration.
Some time in November | said good
by to him at the gate and took tie train
for my lecture tuur. The day before
Christmas came back 20 phi!adelpl.ia,
loaded to the guards with boxes, par-
cells, and bundles for nv Princes
Christmas tree, glad, glad, glad to get
away from the platform and the hotels
and to get lack home Sure enou-ll,
first to bid me we,colae home was nv
tall friend. He wished ne merry
Christmas, hoped lmy toul lad been
pleasant and successful, and then 7
laughed.
Come, " I said, "out with IT. What
have you got him fox Christmas? What
can | send him? How is the Little
boy?"
The hand on nv arm frightened its
grasp little, the great tears came
yelling up into the pleasant eyes and
drowned their light, and the clear, firm
voice was husky and tremulous.
Dead and buried month ago, Mr..
Burdette."
All, me, the shadow of that Christ
mas! No toys savc the broken ones
the little hands had played with; no
songs except the echoes of the childish
songs he used to sing; no music but
the haunting memories of his little
nFattie and merry laughter. Under
the drifting snow the little white face
and waxen hands, with tie dimpies in
them, still in the quiet home. Christ
mas was only date-just the 18th of
December, that was all. How still,
how empty, how lonely the home with
the little boy away!
"You asked me-" he said, "what I
got him for Christmas?"
just then some duty of his Office
called him away from me, and as lie
turned to go away he said:
Il have got wreath for him"
All, yes, what better? A little
wreath of green holly for the snow
covered mound; while winter than the
snow lying upon his white breast, the
child sitting at the feet Of Him who
was the babe of bethlehem, the Christ
child, weareth garland Of i1nmor-
tality. "Run now, pray thee, to meet
her, and say unto her, Is it well with
the child?' And she answered, 1t is
we'll. Pr. j. Burdette, IN jamestown
Herald.