The Iowa plain dealer. [volume] (New Oregon, Howard County, Iowa) 1867-1895, 1886-12-23
DAVIS CHRISTMAS DREAM.


DAVIS CHRISTMAS DREAM.
Davy Durham had no mother. He
could remember her though. and quite
her quiet matronly face.
without frown or fret: her dress of
quaker gray. without a spot; her gentle
Thee may, Davy," or Thee may not,
always without the slightest variation
Of the voice or pitch,
He remembered her nntiring indus
try too, her practical lessons Of life and
prcccpt; and above all. her last words,
when he was but eight years old, Thy
Heavenly Father will take care of thee.
Dayy, when l am gone
For more than four years he had
made it his home with his mothers
only sister, Aunt Prue, prim maiden
lady, who for more than quarter Of a
century had lived by herself She
cared very little for the lonely child
who had been thus unceremonionsly
thrust upon her own solitude.
It is hard thing not to be loved,
and poor Davy had no one to love him
in all the wide world but this Grabbed
old aunt, who, SO unlike his mother,
was cross and unreasonable. and scold-
ed him every day, no matter how much
he might try to do to please her.
To-day Aunt Prue had been crosser
than ever before, even though it was
the blessed Christmas time. when every
body ought to be pleasant and happy.
Besides. his lessons wouldn't stay in
his head, all he could do, and the teach
er of the district school had been even
more severe in his chastisement than
usual.
He had been thinking all day great
deal about the dear hazel-eyed mother
who had always made these seasons so
pleasant to him, and who had also
taught him as she went out Of sight
that she would still be living in that
other world to which some day he
would come, and that he must be pa
tient and bear ali his troub es bravely
in the sure hope of meeting her again.
Then, too, she had told him of Jesus,
how he became the "Babe of Rethle-
hem' and was born on Christmas day,
and that if he had not come to earth,
grown up and suffered, he could never
20 to the beautiful heaven. where his
mother now was. He must try to
remember all this.
But it Is not always 30 easy to be
patient when everything Is against us.
and SO thought Davy to-day.
Now God had given him one bright
talent. He could sing as well As any
boy in the town. That very morning
he had taken very difficult part to
perform in the boy choir ut the church
in preparation for the coming Christmas
celebration, and rs the old pastor
looked in upon them in their practising.
even his eyes seemed to be put upon
him in condemnation, rs though his
singing was altogether wrong rs well
as anything else. Truly. it was the
very darkest day in his short pill
grimage, Davy thought.
A very queer, sacred looking old
church was this Church of st. Stephens,
with its brown-stone cappings, and the
sun sending such beautiful colors
through the windows of stained glass,
their hobgoblin figures seeming almost
to move as the sun passed up the sky;
the pulpit. carved and black with age,
and the high-back pews, SO high that
the heads Of the worrshippers could
scarcely he seen.
Davy tried to believe that the figures
in the windows were Christmas angels.
and that they were smiling down upon
him. Hut no. Nothing smiled on him.
He could not bring himself TO believe it,
the world seemed SO wide and desolate
and full Of trouble.
He had never seen such Christmas
as he should have this year. They had
always been poor, but the gentle spirit
of his mother had blessed it to him,
and now that dear, brave hand that had
been SO willing to lift him over the
worlds rocky highway had gone.
What would he ever care for it now?
But Christmas morning came at
length. as it always comes. whether we
are JOYOUS or sorrowful. Fine sprays
of evergreen decorated the rough walls
and beams Of the quaint little church.
No upright branches in its corners, nc
stars or anchors, or other device, only
shadowy outline Of what the day was
to many waiting heart on that glad
morning.
One massive wreath alone hung over
the chancel encircled by the letters
CHRIST OUR LORDS BORN TO-DAY"
and this was all. The little organ
stole upon the hush, deep, sweet and
solemn, while the Gloria IN Ercelsis
rung through the little chnrch in a
clear volume of sound, and seemed to
roll up to the very gate Of heaven,
where Days mother was, as If in loud
and grateful thanksgiving.
The sermon time came, when DAYS
duties were ended. The faded curtains
were drawn aside that the boy choir
might look and listen with the rest.
The preacher leaned over little, old
fashioned desk as he proclaimed the
glad tidings of the saviour's birth.
The Christ of to-day he said, ..was
the Christ of the first Christmas day,
even though eighteen hundred years
had passed since the great news came.
He, who came for all, comes also every
Christmas day for each one, and what
greater JOY than this' No matter how