The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1895-12-14
Original Storp.
JIMMIE'S CHRISTMAS.
a TRUE STORY
Written for the Democratic Advocate
BY p. G. X.
a TRUE STORY

CHAPTER l.
About six O clock on the night before
Christmas, the wind was blowing around
the corner Of Calvert street in fierce man
ner which made the men and boys pull
their overcoats tightly around them; at
least. those who had such comforts did 50.
Right in front of a big newspaper build
ing stood one Of those street-peddlers who
seen impervious to cold, and who pl their
trade in all seasons and apparently at all
hours. This man had climbing mon
key toy which brings much JOY to the
childish heart, and in front Of him stood a
little newsboy. clad in neat, but much
worn and out grown suit Of clothes, gazing
with hungry eyes and open mouthed covet-
business at that long suffering cotton mon
key. His papers were forgotten; one hand
was in the pocket Of his forlon trousers,
evidently lingering the coins reposing there;
every now and then he would bring them
out. count them over with sad look i'll
his big, wistful eyes, and return them 10
his pocket with pathos which proved IL
resistible to two reporters standing on the
steps Of the newspaper office. They both
moved forward. but the taller and elder Of
the two bought the monkey; and when that
coveted animal was safely in his possession
the little chap distress was genuine. He
counted his pennies again, but all his count
ing could not make greater amount than
eleven cents, and he was turning away
with tears glittering on his eye lashes, when
the young reporter called him.
Say, Bub, come here.
The boy stepped forward.
This is for you, said the gentleman,
handing him the monkey.
Blank surprise showed on The little iel-
low 5 face,
Say you's hidden me. aint yer?'' he
asked.
Not at all! This is my Christmas gift
to you. said his new friend.
With shout of delight and JOY, better
than any thanks, the little fellow took
his prize, and with '''rhanky, Boss, -
darted to the corner, where he was soon sur
rounded by group of his friends clamor
ing for IA sight Of his Chris mas gif.
But when they wanted to test the mon
keys climbing powers, he pushed them
aside. NAV; does youse fellows tink dis
here monk $ fur you an me? Youse ain t
in ii! Dis goes to me brudder, dis does
He's ben howlin' fer one of EN- fur a
mont Here, Mike, sell me papers for me. -
With that he started down Baltimore
street at rapid gait, followed by the re-
porter, who had overheard his words, and
who scented a theme for a Christmas story
1t was hard work to keep that boy in
sight, but the reporter managed to do so
till the little fellow disappeared through Il
basement door in shabby looking house
some where over in "Old Town. There
were no curtains at the windows, and
STOPPING down, the reporter hand an un-
obstructed view of the interior of a miser-
ably bare room.
There stood his little friend making the
monkey climb the string, his face beaming
with perfect happiness, while on the fool
sat smaller boy whose hel plessness was
made evident by withered little hand and
misshapen foot and leg, but who was a
picture of speechless delight.
The sight some how brought big lump
into the reporter throat and he blew his
nose several times when the little cripple
held up his thin face to kiss his big broth
er who was not big enough for the
cares he was SO evidently carrying.
A sound of subdued sobbing then at
tracted the reporter attention; this came
fiom a woman hardly middle-aged, who
was wiping her eyes on her apron in one
corner of the ROOM She came forward,
presently, took the little fellow up in hel
arms, sat down before pitiful pretense fol
fire, and rocked herself back and forth,
with despair as plainly visible on her face
as though it had been written there in let
ters of fame
Don't cry, Nam, said the big little
brother, s'here's 'leven cents for you an
de kid, an Is got de promise of a job in
de mornin' to carry some tings up from dc
book store. ~
II can he p cryin, Jimmie, boy, fe1
tomorrow's Chris mas, an [ aint got moth
in fer you boys, an I'm fraid SANITY
Claus won't come aroun to sich place.
Say, Jimmie, said the little brother,
opening his eyes wide at the idea, 'doe'
yer reckon dat was Sanity Claus wot give
you de monk?'
81 guess it was de same, said Jimmie
tDe old boy knowed how bad Bobbis
wanted dat monk, an he jest coined el
long like young feller wild lots o tin, an