The Carlisle independent., 1906-12-20

room. I made up the fire, and sat down and reread the newspaper. There was much in 1t about the ap- preaching feast. l had the illustrated papers. They had issued Christmas supplements, with pictures of happy family gatherings, of Old Father Christmas, of waits and carol singers. 1 might perhaps hear the waits and singers. l should certainly hear the Christmas bells. That would be all.
 l had done with my papers. I sat before the fire in a brown study, and my spirits sank lower and ever low CT. l recalled the old Christmases I had spent at home with my parents. I remembered how I had looked into my stockings on the morning to see if Old Father Christmas had visited me in the night and had left there some presents for the Good Boy.
 Alas. No Father Christmas would visit me now. All that was of the past-the utterly and irrevocably past.
 I did not light my candles. I could read no more. l needed no light for my thoughts, they were too dark to be illumined thus.
 As 1 stood thus musing, I heard a tap at my door. and shouted: Come in," There ensued delay, and I called again Come in!''
 Then the door opened and I saw some little heads outside, with golden curls and flushed cheeks, and child's voice said: Please, MT. What s-your- name, will you come to our tree down stairs?'
 III"
 As I hesitated, the child said: "Please-Annie told us to ask you
 And then I saw the tall girl whom I had assisted draw back into the dark behind them.
 Most certainly I will, as you are so kind as to invite me"
 So 1 descended, and there were my landlord and landlady, radiant with happiness, and the five children danced before me and said: He is come; is it not nice!" Behind, pres ently, entered Annie, somewhat shy ly, and pretending she had come from the kitchen.
 I was witness of the delight of the little ones over their presents-the woolly lamb, small cart, cannon, doll-the father over a pair of warm stockings of Annie's knitting, the mother over a shawl, also of her work; and I stood smiling and happy, when up sprang one of the children and plucked from the tree the silver match box.
 "This," said the child, 'is for MT. What's-his-name. Sister Annie said it was for him."
 I was moved more than I can say. So-some had been thinking of me, though l was only a lodger.
 Look here, sir!" said the father, you're a stranger in the country, and at such time as this there must be no strangers. You must really sup with us, and dine also with us to- morrow. I can promise you a good dinner, for it is of AnAe's making"
 All was changed. I was stranger and they took me in; I was lonely and they made of me a friend.
 Christmas day, 10:30 p. m.
 l returned to my room upstairs, made up the fire, and seated myself before it. I had spent very pleasant day, and pleasant evening before that. I did not now feel so discour- aged, so hopeless. That was a nice family, very friendly and considerate. And I began to build in the fire. no longer saw only ruins. 1 saw, as it were, a pleasant home rise out of the eoals, and pleasing face looked up at me out of them-very much like that of Annie. An! if the old home was gone, might not build one that would be new. I need no longer live in the past, out look to the future, and next Christmas, please God-I would not be alone, that is if Annie-but cannot say-will consent to put an end to my loneliness and help ia building up a future.