Norwich bulletin., 1913-12-27
Specially F,

Written Specially For The Bulletin. Of late I have been renewing my acquaintances with Dickens Christ mas ghost stories. l wonder why he chose ghost stories for Christmas.
 Ills purpose seems to be to frighten the behelders by pricking their con- science and stirring them up to mak- ing amends for the past by good deeds to all about them. Pftiful indeed IS the ease of one. who has to be fright
 ened into kindly. generous thoughts and deeds on this day, the most low
 able of all the year Now. if ever we should feel the fatherhoed of God and the brotherhood of man. In these days of organized beneyolence, we
 iatter ourselves that matters are bet ter Inananged. True it certainly Is, that the children have the right of way at Christmas time. What con f1dence they show in the unlimited resources of Santa Clausl They De- gin weeks before to tell their desires with no thought of failure, and. bless ed be the faith of childhood, they are seldom disappointed.
 Occasionally one is overlooked, and such was the case of my hero, RagS. He might well have lived in the streets of London in Dickens time, and served as the original in one of his stories, but his home was in New York and his childhood was spent there. Did l say home? I should not, for he had no home except in memory, and no friends to care for him.
 Memory recalled the loving face and smile of tender mother, and the fond embrace of a proud father, when home and parents were a reality for him. It seemed now that they were all dream. and had never been real: His true name was PrinceIy Page, and he thought sometimes that he couid recall his mothers kiss as she pressed her lips to his forehead and hugged him to her breast calling him her dear little Prince. Not much to snow for prince in his present surround ings. Such a home as he could now claim was in some corner. where he could somewhat be shielded from the weather, and secure himself from obser- vation. He considered himself fortu- nate if he could find a couch or nay or rags in which to bury himself for the night. His days were spent in the busy streets, selling papers or earn ing a few pennies in other ways now and then His nimbie feet were al ways at the service of any who would employ him for an errand of any kind, but his appearance was against him. A boys appetite took most or hisearnings, and his clothes ana shoes were provided from any source at hand The garbage can was often able to supply the latter. and his lack of the former had gained him his name Rags" So he wandered about the streets, a forlorn, uncared-for waif a little fellow scarcely 8 dozen years old.
 The seasons passed on with no vis- ible effect on him except to make 1t more difficult to obtain enough rags to cIothe him. Christmas time ap- preached, but what could it mean to him? Christmas Eve, however led him to stroll a little beyond his usual limit and ho caIRht something or Christmas cheer, after all. The streets were thronged with people their arms laden with mysterious looking parcels as they hurried on their way home ward No one noticed Rags, but one in jostling past him, dropped a bundle directly in front of the boy Rags picked it up; it felt soft, and his