The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1889-12-20
CHRISTMAS.

Ot004l fCAy lOHSoOA1s III OuA u nav
minded that, though, if she had had a doll.
For every little girl knows how much short
er the days are if she only has a doll to dress
and undress, to carry around with her
and to tell her secrets to. But Mile
hadn't one.
To be sure there were the remnants of
what had been a very ugly rag doll, which
Grandma Gray had long ago, when Mile
was a wee bit of a thing, made for her; but
Grandma Gray's powers, as an artist in
dolls, were extremely limited, as the rag
baby showed. And after several years of
exposure to all sorts of conditions and
weather, the doll had become a sad object
to look upon-much more to love, and hold
and caress.
Somewhere Mile had seen what she
pronounced to be a "real, truly doll" 1t
had hair and eyes, and could make a noise
when it was squeezed. and, in short, pos
sessed all those characteristics with which
you are so familiar in the doll-kind. But
to Mile they were all new. And ever
since that time she had longed with all her
childish soul for a truly doll"
For Miles parents had hard work to
get a living off the poor hillside farm, and
would as quick have thought of a trip to
Europe, as for paying out a dollar for the
doll, or for anything else that was not alb
solutely necessary.
1t was just two weeks before Christmas,
and Mile had begun to wonder if Santa
Claus would remember her this year. Fol-
he didn't always-unless it was by an apple
just like what they had in their own cellar.
Mrs. Davis was very busy preparing the
turkeys for market, and Mile was very
much interested in the process, and very
troublesome, as well, for she asked all sorts
of questions.
81 wish,'' she said, Il could have a
Christmas this year. Mamma, can't L"
Il don't know, child" said her mother.
'If it's a good market-year perhaps you'll
get something"
Il don't see what difference that makes
Mamma, are you going to send the tur-
keys and chickens to Boston,"
Yes replied Mrs. Davis.
"Does Santa Claus live in Boston, man.
MAJ. said Mile.
Yes" said Mrs. Davis absently.
Mile placed her two dimpled arms upon
the table, and laid her fat, dimpled chin on
them. She remained in that position for
the space of two minutes. Then her eyes
frightened. and her head came up with a
toss.
Mamma" said she, 'scan l write to
Santa Claus?''
YES said Mrs. Davis. glad of any
thing which would divert Mile and stop
her questions for a few minutes.
MAY I get the paper and pen and write
just what l want to-" said the child, ..and
then-oh. then, can | send it to him, my
self"
"How?"
why put it inside that latest turkey"
said the little girl. her eyes glowing.
Santa Claus'll be sure to buy the biggest
turkey, and then he'll get my letter"
You may try it, said Mrs. Davis,
''only you must do 1t all yourself and not
bother me-
"Well, l guess l can," said Mile, tri-
umphantly. I'm seven years old-so old
l can write a letter."
Mile knew the 'Song of Seven" you
see.
She went to work busiiy at her letter,
and for the next hour her usually smooth
brows were dreadfully puekered. as she
wrestled with her fathers somewhat bat
tered old pen. When she finally set back
with a sigh of relief, the blotted sheet of
paper on the table before her read some
thing like this:
DEAR Mr.. SANTA CLAUs.-You forgot
all about me last year. please Don't this.
i want you to by this fat Turkey for your
self and then bring ms a real truly Doll
with hair that | can comb, and a set of lit
tie Dishes. If you can't bring but one
thing, pleese bring the dolly, for | neysr
had none. But you dident bring me moth
ing last year you know. May God bless
you, deer Mr.. Santa Claus, and make you
always happy and always warm enough
when you Riding round carrying things to
us children. So good by. With much love-
"MuLIE DAVIS.
"P. S. Don't forget a doll.
''p. 5. Remember the Dishes"
Mile folded up her letter with a great
sigh of relief. She had never written half
so long a one before, but great ~exigeneies
demand great exertions. The latest tur-
key was all ready to be packed up. and
the little girl soon tucked away the note
inside of him.
Mrs. Davis was in too much ola hurry to
read it, and let the child do as she pleased
with it. She had very little faith in Mil
lies experiment, but said to herself, when
the child's back was turned:
mo harm in her trying. 'Tisn't likely
she'll ever hear from it-of course, she
won't; but it seemed a pity not to let her
have her own way, and she'll forget all
about it before Christmas. But that
night Mile added a postscript to her pray
err, and she repeated it every night till
Christmas-time:
please, God, let Santa Claus remember me,
this year
The turkeys were shipped to Boston that