The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1889-07-05

Industrious, God-fearing man; but times
were dull for him in Smithrille Center.
There was little going On in the way Of new
buildings. and he often had to be absent from
his home for weeks together. while employed
at some remote place.
After many earnest talks with his wife they
decided to remove 10 the West, where new
villages and cities we're rapidly growing up.
50 they found a purchaser for the little cot
tage, and had an auction sale Of the COW and
horse and ali Of the furniture except some
heir-looms and a few articles which they
would not part with. Then, after bidding
their neighbors good bye, they entered the
cars and were whiried Away 10 q new home
in a h%ourishing town in Illinois.
1t was early in spring. The red bud bushes
were bright in the thickets, and q thousand
flowers, new and strange to the immigrants,
painted the prairies. An air Of bustling
activity peryaded the town. Buildings were
going up on every side. and Mr.. Oakley soon
found employment at better wages than he
had ever received in his old home.
Tor a time everything went well with him
and his family. His WORK was in constant
demand, and If his thoughts were turned
with tender regret to the green hills which
surrounded his former home, he had only TO
look as his rosy children and picture to him
self the career which seemed open for them
in the vigorous growing West.
Spring wore away into summer and under
the long and ~rainless heat the river which
flowed past the town shrunk into its bed,
leaving great stretches Of Shiny ooze Tester
ing in the fierce sunshine. Autumn came at
length, with soft south winds laden with
germs OF disease. Robbie, the pet of the
house, was stricken with a malarial fever.
For long days and nights he lay in his crib,
tossing and moaning, with flushed cheeks
and heavy eyes. At length tho crisis was
passed, but recovery was slow; and while
Robbie was still the mere shadow Of tho
ruddy-cheeked little boy he had been, the
fever seized upon his father. There were
sorrowful times now in the little household.
Mrs. Oakley watched day and night beside
her husband and little boy, and helpful
Margaret proved herself a treasure.
When the first brief wintry days came
Robbie was once more playing around the
house, and his father, upon whom the fever
had spent its force, could only sit, wan and
pale, in his armchair. His little savings
were rapidly melting away and Il long winter
had onlyjust begun. Christmas Was near at
hand, and who was TO fill the children's
stockings and make the day a merry one for
them?
Margaret was a thoughtful little girl, and
she pondered long over the matter. Two
days before Christmas she got q postal card,
sat down and wrote on it as follows:
DEAR SANTA CLAUs:-we haze moved since
last Christmas, and l am afraid You won't
know where to find us, 80 l write this. We live
now, 20 East Fourth street. Papa and Rob
bic have been awfully sick, and papa isn't well
yet. Please bring Robbie a ball, and Dick a
sled, and I would like a doll. for 1 lost mine
When We moved. Goodby.
MARGARET OAKLEY.
She wrote the name of Santa Claus on the
other side OF the postal card. and just then
her mother called and directed her to go to
a grocery for some things. So she took her
basket and started, accompanied by Prince,
the dog. As she passed the corner she
dropped the card into IL mail-box, which was
fastened to a lamp-post. All that day and
the next Margaret went singing through the
house, in the old light-hearted way she
had shown 50 little since sickness had in
vaded the household.
Soon after the postal card was dropped into
the box the postman came around and threw
1t, with a lot OF cards, letters and newspapers
into a bag, which he carried to the postoflce.
There a clerk took tho bag, poured the con-
tents out on n table and began sorting them
over. When he came to Margaret's little let
ter he laughed and showed it to Thomas
Raymond, another clerk who was busily en-
gagged at another table. Mr.. Raymond read
it through. The name Oakley attracted his
attention. What if it should be james Oak
ley, the friend of my boylinod2" he asked
himself.
Christmas eve came, and Mar+arct. Dick
and Robbie, with the unwayrrih4 faith of
childhood, hungup their stockings. said their
prayers around their mothers knee, and
were soon tucked away in their litfis beds
dreaming Of Christmas and SantaClaW Mr.
Oakley, too feeble to sit up more ihn.. d few
hours at a time had already retired. Mrs,
Oakley sat thinking sadly Of the disappoint-
ment which seemed awaiting the children ior
the first time in their lives. Suddenly lis
door bell rang, and as Mrs. Oakley opened
the door, there stood an expressman and in
the street a loaded wagon. From its depths
he drew out a big fat turkey, n hand-sled and
a heavy paper box wrapped up in thick
paper. Having deposited the things in the
hall, he hurried out 10 his wagon and drove
away leaving Mrs. Oakley greatly puzzled.
Surely there must be some mistake, she
thought. But no; the packages We're all
plainly marked, James Oakley, No. sc East
Fourth street, - and on the sled was neatly
painted Dick Oakley" In the paper box
was n French doll with real hair and eyes that
closed when she was laid down. A little
card attached to 1t was marked Margaret"
There was also a ball marked Robbie" and
such lots Of candy and pretty things for all.
The stockings were soon filed to the very
tops, and the other things laid out on n
table, where the children found them the next
morning.
There was a joyful meeting around the
breakfast table, but Mrs. Oakley's face wore a
puzzled expression. Finally she asked,
"Where could all those things have come
FROM"
"Why, mamma" said Margaret, santa
Claus sent them l know he did, cause l
wrote TO him."
'You wrote to him?' said her mother.
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