Year: 1878

The picture should be that of a well-light-
ed, handsome parlor, decorated with ivy
leaves and holly berries, twigs and punches
of which still lay scattered around in the ju-
bilant confusion of preparation for Santa
Claus. On IA table in the centre of the room
stood Christmas tree, studded with tiny
wax candles Of more colors than one old
fashioned rainbow ever dared to assume
Boxes and bundles lay everywhere the
table, on the floor, ON the sofa, on the corners
of the antelpioce-some with the papers
torn away or the tops pushed aside others
still neatly folded and the twine uncut. A
fashionable doll in a miniature phaeton occu-
pied the hearth-rug, a rocking-horse with
flaming nostrils and flowing name extended
his legs in the bow window, and the piano
was laden with bonbons that showed tempt
ingy through their paper lace. Some few
articles had already been placed upon the
tree, and two ladies, with heads thrown back
and arms extended, were still engaged in dec
Grating it, when servant entered with a
bundle, Here is some work, Miss Helen.
Mrs. Radcliffe is waiting in the hall; she
says She would be very glad to have the mon
ey tonight


Take it up stairs out of the way" said
Mrs Dale, 'and tell her Hang that buble
higher, Bell: We shall wish it higher still be-
fore Rob has done with it D.; and "a James,
just tell Mrs. Radcliffe that she can come to-
morrow; it isn't convenient tonight. (Now
for the magic castle > Tell her to come to-
morrow, James"


Mrs Radcliffe, standing in the hall, re-
ceived the ne ssags and turned away, but as
she caught glimpse of the parlor with its
glow aud warmth and brightness, and there
swept family through the half f-open door the
perfume of oranges and evergresns and flow
ers, she thought of the little ones at home
there came tightness at the throat, and,
turning back, she said in husky voice, Tell
your mistro 81 she will oblge me very muchif
she will let me have the money tonight"


"Oh, nonsense." exclaimed her employer
with an inpatient shrug of the shoulder and
her eyes fixed on locket her sister was fas-
tening to a branch of the tree-''nonsense
1t is only-what next, Bell only fifty cents,
and what good can fifty cents do anybody
The handkerchief? Isn't it exquisite ?-Go
back, James," she continued, with her eyes
fixed on the tree and her mind only half on
what she was saying; but, God forgive her
she was only thoughtless and did not mean
to be cruel-''go back, James, and tell her
she must come tomorrow / cannot attend
to it now"


Mrs. Radcliffe silently closed the hall-door
and went out into the darkness, her heart
aching for the disappointment that awaited
her children and swelling with resentful feel
ing toward the rest of the world. She had
been q happy wife, but the war had deprived
her of her husband. She had been reared
like n vast number of other women, to be
simply lOvable, and when her crowd of serv-
itors melted away and there was no strong
arm to be her shield, she was totally unpre-
pared for combat with the world, and soon
found herself driven to the wall. Her origin
nj hOma had lonO bapn sold and she pnw np-
cupied basement room in tenement-house,
and had no one to serve her but Uncle Pom
pey who was as poor as herself and nearly a
hundred years old, but who, feeble and tot
tering crept every day to her door that he
might split her an armful of wood, or tote"
some water or perform any little menial Of
fee in his power. He had belonged to her
father, aud had handled her on his knee when
her head hardly reached so high and though
she was now so poor, and he no longer at her
command, the old instinct of attachment and
habit of respect remained in force, and he
was as deferential to her and as tender to her
children us ever he had been in the dear old
days that were gone.


Mrs. Radcliffe passed down the street.
pushed right and left by the lively crowd,
trying very hard, poor little woman to keep
out of peoples way but succeeding in avoid
ing one person only by jostling against an
other. Uncle Pompey had been taking care
of the children while she carried her work
home and now, as she stood moment on
the threshold hesitating to enter with such
i'll news, she saw a touching picture, though
poorly lighted up, for there was no candle,
and but a mere handful of fire on the wretch
ed hearth On the floor, with her hands
clasped over her knees and her brown eyes
fixed on Uncle Pompey, sat Lottie, little
girl about five years old, her rusty black dress
scarcely hiding the toes that peeped from her
forlorn little shoes, while on low STOOL with
side was a boy very little older, and SO
scantilY clad that one could not be surprised