The Florida agriculturist. [volume] (DeLand, Fla.) 1878-1911, 1890-03-05

black oak, was the Christmas tree.
Squire Carson stood in front Of it. He
was tall, dark man, very quiet in his
manners, and he wore bunch Of seals
on his waistcoat We used to think him
old, but as matter Of fact he was then
not more than forty. He had been, as
afterwards learned, great traveller in
his youth, but some six or seven years
before this date had married lady who
was half Spaniard-a papist, my father
called her.
can remember her well. She was
small and very pretty, with rounded
figure. large black - and glittering
teeth She spoke English with curious
accent. suppose that l must have been
a funny child to LOOK at. and know
that my hair stood UP on my head then
as it does now, for still have a sketch
of myself that my mother made of me,
in which this popularity is strongly
marked On this occasion of the Christ
mas tree | remember that Mrs. Carson
turned to a tall, foreign looking gentle
man who stood beside her. and tapping
him affectionately ON the shoulder with
her gold eyeglasses sail:
'Look, cousin-look. at that droll little
boy with the big brown eyes: his hair is
like a-what you call UNDERSTANDING
brush. Oh, what droll little boy!'
The tall gentleman pulled at his mus
tache, and, taking Mrs. Carson's hand in
his, began to smooth my hair down with
it till | heard her whisper:
"Leave go my hand, cousin. Thomas
is looking like-like the thunderstorm"
Thomas was the name of MIR. Carson,
her husband.
After that l hid myself as we'll as /
could behind chair, for was shy, and
watched little Stella Carson, who was
the squire's only child, giving the chill
dren presents off the tree. She was
dressed as Father Christmas, with some
soft. white stuff round her lovely little
face, and had large, dark eyes, which l
thought more beautiful than anything
had ever SEEN At last it came to my
turn to have present-oddly emo n.
considered in the light of future events,
it was large monkey. She reached it
down from one of the lower boughs of
the tree and handed it to me. saying:
Dat is my Christmas present to you,
little Allan Quatermain."
AS she did SO, her sleeve, which was
covered with cotton wool, spangled over
with something that shone, touched one
of the tapers-how l do not know-and
caught fire, and the fame ran up her
arm towards her throat. She stood quite
still. suppose that she was paralyzed
with fear; and the ladies who were near
screamed very loud. but did nothing.
Then some impulse seized me-perhaps
instinct would be better word to use.
considering my age. l threw myself
upon the child, and, beating at the fire
with my hands, mercifuIly succeeded in
extinguishing it before it really got hold.
Ny wrists were SO badly burned that
they had to be wrapped up in wool for
long time afterwards, but with the ex-
ceptiOn of single burn upon her throat.
little Stella Carson was not much hurt.
This is all that l remember about the
Christmas tree at the hall. What hap
pened afterwards is lost to me, but to
this day in my sleep | often see little
Stella's sweet face and the stare of terror
in her dark eyes as the fire ran up her
arm. This, however. is not wonderful,
for had, humanity speaking, saved the
life of her who was destined to be my
wife.
The next event which can recall