Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1898-12-24
THE WANDERERS RETURN,
BY HELENA DIXON.

1t was Christmas eve. The wind
moaned (itfnlly through the leafess
branches of the trees that stretched
their brawny limbs over the low
farmhouse at Chestnut Ridge. Snow
was falling, too, thick and fast, COW
ering the green wheat fields and the
brown green meadows with wictry
carpet.
In the house, sitting around the
broad hearth and enjoying the warm
glow of the fire as it leaped up and
cracked in the large, old fashioned
fireplace, was a group Of brown
haired children, while in the corner,
in high-backed chair, sat an old
man His hair, thin and long, and
white as the snow on the roof, was
parted at the top and combed back
behind the ears, while the snowy
beard which covered his breast aided
in giving patriarchal look to the
care.worn features. This was uncle
Darby, as everybody, even his gray.
haired neighbors, called him.
And these were his grandchildren,
come to spend the merry Christmas
time at the old homestead, because.
as little Amy expressed it, Santa
Claus always brought them nicer
presents at Chestnut Ridge than
in their own little home in the city,
because the chimney was 50 large to
come down 10. And while they ate
chestuuts and talked over the ex-
pectcd visit, and tried to guess what
the good Saint Nicholas would bring
them, the old man rested his head
ssdly on his wasted head and sat
in silence, hoping his darlings would
not feel disappointed in the morning
when they came to find the contents
of their stockings small indeed.
Freddie was hulling some ch,stnuts
he had been roasting for his grand
father, from the ashes. when happy
idea took possession OF him.
"Gran pa, why don't you buy you
some teeth? They can buy teeth,
for uncle Gus has got some, and
they est as we'll as them that grow.'
Uncle Darby sighed and raised
his head slowly.
"You can't understand it, boy.
But | can never get any
"Wby, gran 'ps?"
"Hush, Freddie, whispered Will,
SITS something about mortgage.
You mustn't talk about it. 1t makes
gran'p pa feel bad.'
"Please, gran'pa, tell us a story"
1t was little Amy's voice that
spoke, and she stole around and laid
her curly head on bis arm.
Tell us about uncle Chailey,r
cried Freddie.
Tue old man sighed sgain-then
tear after tear c0ursad down his fur
rowed cheeks.
"Charlie was always good boy.
and can't help it when l think OF
him.
Glow long is it gran'p,, since he
went away?'
twenty-five years tonight" And
the white head was bowed again,
but only for minute.
"He was about your age, viii.
Your father was away learning his
trade, and Charlie and | were alone.
His mother died when he was baby.
al was very lonesome tfere, and
| thought was making Charley
happier when l brought him a new
mother. But they did not take TO
each other. Still, | never thought
he VS. unhappy when he used TO sit,
evening alter evening, Just where
Freddie is now, looking into the fire,
and never speaking. But | know it.
all now,
He thought nobody Lived him
He thought his old fsther cared for
nobody but his young wife. So be
ran away, one night, when the wind
was bowling, and the SLOW falling,
just as 1t is tonlgLe.
He left a letter for me to tell me
why be went away, and that was all.
Ever since his stermotber died, I've
been hoping more than ever that he
would come back. But he must be
dead. And ! not even permitted to
see bis grave"
Once more uncle Darby bowed his
head on his band, while the clock over
the fire licked loudly in the silence
| that followed.