The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1894-12-25
WHAT HAPPENED LAST CHRIST
MAS.

MAS.
Last Christmas was the jolliest one I
ever saw. I guess what makes me
think so is because it was such a good
one to Aunt Mildred and Uncle George
though he was not my uncle yet,
then-and they say if it hadn't been
for me they wouldn't have had such a
good Christmas. And I reckon if l
hadn't been so anxious to work and
earn something, things lever would
have happened just as they did. My
pa died when l was just a lite fellow,
and my Aunt Mildred earned nearly
everything we had after that, teach
ing music, for my ma was sick nearly
all the time. While my pa lived we
had plenty, but everything be had was
invested in a bank, and the bank failed
soon after he died. People said that if
he had lived tie bank wouldn't have
failed; and they think the man that
was in with him cheated my ma out of
what ought to have been hers.
For the last three or four years 1
have been earning a nickel whenever l
could by carrying parcels or running
errands, or something of that sort but
last winter I just made up my mind
that a great big boy eleven years old
could do something harder than that;
80 when a big snow fell a week or two
before Christmas / started out to shovel
snow for people. There was Mrs. Bron-
son, living up on Fourth street, that had
always been mighty good about giving
me little jobs to do, and 7 went to her
first. She let me shovel the snow off
of all the walks for her, and paid me a
good price for it; and then she went
and brought out ar overcoat of Mr..
Bronson's that she said he would not
wear any more, though it was real
good, all but on the sleeves and on the
| edge of it, and wanted to know if my
ma could not cut it down for me. I
knew ma could do it, for she had made
lots of things for me out of pas old
| clothes, and I needed an overcoat, too;
but l hated to take such a thing from
a stranger, and my face burned like
fire. But she offered it in such a nice
way, like she was afraid of hurting my
feelings, and her face looked like it
was burning, too, so thought maybe
I'd better take it, and told her I would
take it if she would let me do some
thing to pay for it didn't feel like I
could take it for nothing, it seemed so
much like a beggar-and she told me
all right I might go down the cellar and
rick up the stove wood that had been
hauled and thrown in there, so it would
not be so much in the way. I went and
piled up the wood, andshe wrapped up
the coat in a big paper, sono n could
see what it was-I thought that was
nice of her-and 1 took it home with
me. When I took it to ma and told her
about it she cried a little, but she said
I did right to take it, and she went
right to work ripping it up to make
over for me. She was ripping away
on it, when all at once she said
why, Harry, here is a letter ad-
dressed to MI. George Bronson, that
has worked it's way down out of the
pocket between the lining and the out
side. You must go right back to Mrs.
Bronson and take the letter to her, and
tell her how we found it,"
We talked a little more about it and
then I hurried back with it, though it
did not look as though it could be of
much Importance, for it seemed to
have been written years ago, and
did't look like a business letter, either.
It was in a woman's handwriting and
ma and I both thought it looked a
little like Aunt Mildred's hand writing,
only smaller. But I think all women's
and girls handwriting looks a good
deal alike.
When I gave the letter to Mrs. Bron-
son she said George was her brother
in-law that used to board with them
when they lived in Palmville, and she
reckoned her husband must have put
the letter in his pocket and forgot to
give it to his brother. She said, for it
must have been in there for four or
five years, George Bronson left their
house and went off to some western
city to practice law law before she left
Palmville, and that was over three
years ago. She said she would send