Evening star., 1898-12-24
A CHRISTMAS STOCKING.
Sad Time When Its Owner Was With
the Dead.

Sad Time When Its owner Was With
the Dead.
Tom Wallace was a fine fellow. everybody
said. AS a boy he had been popular with
his companions. respectful to his elders,
and while he was full of fun and always
ready to join in Juvenile sports. he was
| never bad. He was mischievous as all
full-spirted boys are. and II he sometimes
made one OF party Of lads who deprecated
q neighbors peach tree or sneaked up
surreptitiously to get some unripe grapes
Off old Miss Meadows arbor he was merely
inspired by the fun of the thing. His
mother loved him dearly, and he loved her
in return, and other fathers used to meet
his father and say:
Wallace. old man. that boy Tom Of
yours is great youngster. You ought to
be proud Of him.
And Toms father was, because when a
son Is dutiful and obedient. and yet COM
panionable, he is a comfort indeed to his
dear old daddy.
1t was terrible blow to Mrs. Wallace
and Tom and little Ida when that dear
grew less painful. and only when memory
recalled his dear presence did the hurt get
keen again. To Mrs. Wallace her children
were a comfort, especially Tom. He grew
and entered an office he brought all his
wages home every pay day and put the
money In his mothers hands. She would
urge him to keep his money himself, be-
cause the family had been comfortably
provided for before Mr.. Wallace died.
No. he would say; you keep 1t,
mother You're the kind of a bank like"
When he reached the proud age of twenty
one he was made prouder still by being
made general manager of the company to
whose interests he had been so loyal, and
all said 1t was just what they eX-
pected from young fellow like Tom Wal
rit md IN,
the city regiment he became captain, and
his company was admitted to be the best
drilled of all.
But with all his activity and many re-
sponsibilities Tom Wallace was still his
mothers boy, and when Christmas eve
rolled around with each recurring year he
hung one of the stockings he had worn as
boy and kept religiously ever since for
the purpose on the edge of the mante-
piece in his bed room, and every Christmas
morning he found it filled by the same
dear Santa Claus that had given him such
delight in the same way in the times when
he couldn't guess who Santa Claus was.
1t pleases me- Ida dear, and 1t pleases
mother" he said last Christmas when his
sister Ida, now grown to womanhood and
just college finished, to tailor-made nicely,
1oked him about hanging up his stocking,
and he munched the candy he had found in
the stocking as hungrily as he had twenty
years before.
Old Mrs. Wallace smiled happily. AL
You'll always be my baby boy, when
Christmas comes. my son.
Her eyes lost their smile before Christ
mas had long departed, because the war
with Spain had broken out and Captain
Tom had gone with his company to the
front. His friends begged him not to go.
Ida had tearfully pleaded with him. All
used the same argument
There's plenty others, Tom; there's no
need of you. Stay home.''
Tom was adamant.
when put on uniform did it know
1Eg what it meant l am not a play soldier.
My country has called. That is sufficient"
60 and God protect you, my son." was
his mothers simple sentence, when he
kneit by her side and told her what he
believed his duty was.
Tom went. All through the miseries of
camp life he was CHEEKY and bright. Com
planning soldiers grew ashamed to murmur
when they heard his hopeful assurances.
Then came Santiago and when Skaters
army sailed for Cuba Tom was one of the
most ardent of the legion.
1t all happened down in the narrow road
where the deluge of Mauser bullets fell
pitilessly. They carried him-two of his
field hospital. The surgeon merely glanced
at the tiny hole in his temple where the
terrible missile had entered.
THE man is dead' he said, curtly. ''You
should have known it."
Silently his companions bore poor Toms
body away, and laid it where the other in
animate sacrifices to the nations cause
were stretched in eternal silence.
1da's Shrek, she fell from her chair
in a faint, told her mother that something
had happened. There was rushing of
servants, the doctors came, and when re-
storatves were being applied the morning
paper was gently removed from the girls
hand. Mrs. Wallace steeled herself for the
ordeal, and her eyes scanned the page.
AS one stunned, she read down the list of
the fallen at Santiago. There it was among
the killed.
Capt. Tom Wallace, shot through the
head.'
Weakly, staggering. she sought her
daughters side, and, kneelng by 1t, she
raised her head to heaven, and the light
that fell on Bethlehem sank into her grand
soul and strengthened it's glorious faith.
"Oh, God" she murmured, ut is hard, it
Is hard; but Thou knowest best
Every one sympathized with poor Mrs.
Wallace and her daughter and the preach
ers, when they visited their fiocks, held up
the example of those two women because
of their noble endeavor to look up and be-
yond their own woe and sorrow.
Christmas time, this Christmas time, was
coming swift, and mother and daughter
were talking about Tom and his goodness
"And he always hung up his stocking
Christmas eve.'
The flood of grief rolled from her moth
erS eyes, and she laid her trembling hand
upon the fallen head.
"Yes, daughter, he always did, and this
Christmas eve we. darling, will hang it
where he always did. 1t would please him,
dear"
Who knows what the night may know
in that darkened room, when stealthily, as
of old, Toms mother steals in to fill that
stocking with all he used to love to find
there? Who knows if, when she creeps out
again and weeps herself to broken sleep.
some angel spirit will not hover over her
and call her blessed? Who knows?
WANTED A TREAT.