The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1895-12-25
A ROMANCE OF XMAS.


matter how far away from home they
may go or how long they may stay away,
when Christmas comes their minds re-
vertto the loved ones of their childhood
tender memories of a mother, sis
ter, perhaps q sweetheart, are revived,
and a longing seizes them to be bach
again amid the old familiar scenes.
With each recurrence of the glad sea
son which heralds peace on earth to mer
of good will, this longing crept in tc
Richard jennings heart, sitting all in
terest in the fluctuations of wool on
Change, and making positively dis
tasteful to him all talk about the pros.
poets of next years cotton crop or the
rumored Wall street combine to effect q
corner" in wheat.
Whenever Christmas approached, he
began to realize his loneliness, and he
regarded with envy the people hurryine
along the street carrying bundles of toys
and candles and costlier presents tc
their homes.
Home That sacred place is not to be
violated at such season by the presents
of a stranger, and Richard Jennings
Christmases were spent alone. He was
always glad when they were over, and
he could again become absorbed in bust
ness cares.
For the past ten years he had been a
member of the st. Louis Merchants
Exchange, and was rated at 800, 600.
He had no taste for society, and although
he belonged to several of the best clubs
in that charming old town, he could not
be called a clubman. His tastes, his
cravings, were domestic, but they re-
manned unsatisfied. Little was known
of his previous history. He was not COM
municative, and his business acquaint-
ances were not inquisitive.
One evening, just four days before
Christmas, Mr.. Jennings returned to his
handsomely furnished residence and as
tonished his housekeeper by telling her
was "going home for Christmas. She
had been in his service for more than
five years and believed that all his relp
tives were dead, as she had never heard
him speak of them.
Here's something for you for Christ
mas" he said, handing her $40 bill,
land I hope you'll enjoy yourself. I'm
going east. "
Sarah, in her rich. honest brogue
thanked him.
There was anew light in his face.
Sarah, who was shrewd, noticed it. For
II years this man had been away from
home, and during his absence his par
ents had died, while he was riding
wild ponies in Texas or digging gold in
Colorado or gambling it away in Kansas
City faster than he had gathered it,
AS the train sped eastward over the
level lands of Illinois and Indiana,
through the rich farm lands of Ohio,
and then amid the wooded hills and
streams Of his own native Pennsy lvania
--fairer than them all-his mind tray
eled backward from the present Richard
Jennings, successful broker and respect
able member of the st. Louis Mer-
chants Exchange, to the dissipated
days of his fresh young manhood, when
his wild life had separated him forever
from one he could never forget.
As the train approached Philadelphia
and he looked out of the window at the
numerous domes and spires and cupolas,
he reflected how time, which had
wrought such difference in the appear
ance of the city, must have changed the
sweet girl Of IS, from whom his own
misdeeds had sundered him.
They had been sweethearts from child
hood. But old Ezra Kent, her father,
was stern man, and when stories got
abroad about the dissipated set of which
Richard soon became the leader, and
when one day he came home from his
counting house and found Richard
"Dick" every body called him then-in-
toxicated he said 1t was the last time
Eleanor should receive him. She was a
dutiful girl. 1t wounded her life, but
she obeyed. The Kents came of stern
stuff, and beneath Eleanor's gentle
womanliness lay heroic strength.
After that Richard Jennings intoxi
Gated habits became public scandal,
and when his sister married Will Mo
Cray, promising young lawyer (Elea-
nor was maid of honor), he disappeared
from home.
Now he was returning, very differ
ent man and regretful that he had staid
away so long 1t was such short jour
ney from the Mississippi to the Schuyl-
kill he wondered that he had not before
summoned enough courage to return.
Seventeen years.
For the twentieth time he drew forth
letter and read it with the same alb
sorbed interest as if for the first time:
DEAR DIcK-Will met Mr.. Coles last week
He had Just come from st. Louis and said he
met you there. You naughty boyl Why have
you never written or come home to see us? We
want you to spend Christmas with us. All the
children are crazy to sec you. There are five
now. Tho baby, a beautiful GIRL is 10 months
old and has two teeth. The children often talk
about Uncle Dick. Eleanor has told them so
many Tom Brown at Rugby sort of stories
about you when you were at the university.
Mr.. Kent failed four years ago and died last
March. Eleanor and her mother still live in
the old house. They are very poor. Eleanor
teaches music and sings at st. Brides. Mrs.
Kent looks very old, but she sews beautifully
and makes the prettiest things for the baby.
Do come and spend Christmas with us. The
children are dying 20 see you and 80 am and
Will. Ever your loving sister,
MARY McCRAY.
P. S.-The children's names are Mary, Alex
he's named after father, Of course-Sam,
Dick-after you-and Eleanor, the baby. She's
little ANGEL
The street where Richard jennings
home was, where he was born, and
where his married sister still lived.
had once been fashionable. You could
tell that from the houses--big. broad,
roomy, old fashioned brick residences
of a bygone day, with quaint colonial
doorways, deliberately carved, the llnteis
in many cases supported by the classic
Ionic or Doric columns effected by the
builders Of century ago.
But their glory had departed. Inc
spirit of decay had fallen upon them,
and the children of those who bull