The Jersey City news. (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1889-1906, 1892-12-27


q brick and her cousins are awfully nice
people, and you're sure to like them all.
Well only ourselves be there, and it will
be a regular Christmas dinner, with holly
and ivy and mistIetoe.n
oh, how the major hated Christmas, it's
gladness and its festivitiesl The very
memories Of those happy Christmases of
the dead past accumulated that hate and
imbittered 1t. It was on Christmas day
that he had first dared to kiss the woman
he had afterward deserted. They had
brought down from New York the mistle-
toe from the other side Of the sea. He had
dared to snatch the kiss she was dying to
give as she stood beneath its white berried
branches. All the rest of the merry even
ing he had sat drinking in her sweetness
with all his eyes, and later on in the night,
when only the two of them were together,
he had built the first of his dream castles
as be sat beside her and kissed and caressed
her again.
It all came back when Cyril mentioned
the mistletoe. There she stood In loose
white muslin, the sunny beauty of the
south. The candle light seemed laughing
in her golden hair as he approached her;
the red flush rose in her cheeks at his touch.
All, that was lovel
A4o Az WV VOC GAL GG0 C4A II "a
all gone in the long ago.
The major cursed himself up and down
for recalling it, and angrily tapped the
loose sole Of his boot against the register.
Cyril was one The major hardly no
ticed his absence, but calculated, you're
q brick, Cyril, my boyl' as though he
thought the lad were near by.
In the dim light of the afternoon Cyril
had not noticed that the lines In his friends
face were more drawn thar usual; that his
eyes were brighter than they had ever
seemed before, and that there was a strange
pallor over his gray features. Neither did
he notice much the maid of all works in
quiry, SIS himself all right, sira" But
then, you see, he had not learned that it
| was now three days since the major had
stirred from his room.
As the evening wore on the major never
altered his attitude, though he mumbled
strange things to himself.
First he called himself a driveling idiot:
then a hectic flush would mount his face
and he extolled himself as a penitent mar
tyr.
Serves you right, you coward; serves
you right" he muttered, and his eyes
CLEANED e%xultingly. who's to pity you
now? What good are your dreams. you
IDIOT Starve, d. you'll Starve, starve,
you dreamer of dreamsl"
He had not eaten anything for five days.
1t was the Gath of December, and he knew
he would have no money wherewith tc
purchase even a roll before the advent of
the new year. Yet he gloried In it-gloried
iendishly.
"Tomorrow's Christmasl" he chuckled.
well, you loafer, you can dream of its
dinners and blissi You've dreamed be-
fore, you dreamer; dream now. Fill your
self, glut yourself with dreamsi"
And again he tapped the register with
his broken shoe and crooned over it, and
though the darkness had settled like a
pail he still forbore to light the gas or stir
from his seat in the corner.
Presently he saw one of the most fantas-
tic dreams of a bygone folly take shape
outside In the gloom and creep In through
q chink In the window. 1t was once a
beautiful dream-a vision of endless fame
and millions. Il crawled in through q
chink and stealthily crept behind him. He
begged of it to go away, but it only jeered
at him and then disguised itself in the garb
Of a horrible shroud. The shroud was
fetid and damp and black and froze his
soul with terror. It came and wound itself
all around him, and stified and choked him
with its weight and CLEANLINESS. He tried
to shrek out, but the ghost of another
dead dream came and strangled him and
gagged his mouth with a gag. Then
another dream Of. glory came and meta
morphosed itself into q redhot spike and
ground itself into his head, and all the
other dreams his fancy once had painted
came disguised as cold Jumps of lead and
pounded themselves against the inside Of
his stomach.
On Christmas morning the maid Of all
work found him there, limp and uncon-
scious, a senseless lump of humanity jum-
bled up in a heap beside the register.
It was q charming Christmas party. A
bit old fashioned and u~npretentious for
people of wealth n fashion perhaps, but
then, as it was purely a family affair, they
hone Of them minded looking free and
Easy.
The coffee merchant himself was there
with his son, and he seemed proud of the
boy as he watched him lowering after the
little girl with the blue eyes and the gold
curls.
The cousins, too, were of the best. Old
Mr.. Hartley looked as IL he ought to have
been an archbishop. Mr.. Hartley, junior,
was q species of perambulating smile. He
loved everybody and everything, and his
lines always fell in easy places. His wife
was one Of those pudgy little women who
are always in a fuss until some emergency
turns up and then become as cool as CLAIMS.
Her two children favored the father and
were always grinning under their merry
little turned up noses.
In fact they were all dear, good people.
and as fond of each other as fond could be-
And why didn't your friend, the major
come alongf" asked pudgy little Mrs
Hartley as the dinner got under way.
Yes, my boy, you should have insisted
upon his coming added Grandpapa Hart
ley from the head of the table. .We're al
10 matter Of fact, you know. A little o.
his nonsense would have been q novelty"
Then as the questions came thick ant
fast Cyril told the story of Christmas ev,
with unadorned simplicity. He told about
everything down to the leaky boots.
And when he had finished his story tn,
little girl at his side leaned over.
"Sid," said she, couldn't we do any
thing for him2 Couldn't we all go ant
call IN him after dinner and make hin
come down and spend the rest of thu
Christmas here?'