Year: 1873

. CllHI'IC elltt 1 bUDtI d uuUCIlDdCk. w Hat


do you think of that -


Well, to be sure, it did seem hard at


first thought; but, when you came to


know all about it, you'd see palmer than


ever how the Lord never forgets the


least of his little ones. but follows them


all with his tender mercieS, and the
Lords tender mercies are good all the


way through.


! 1t was Christmas Eve when Maggie


came to the little house at the crossing.


Tom Larkin sat brOoding over his fire,


without so much as cat or a dog to
/ keep him company. Christmas was COM
ing on Sunday that year, and Tom had
been down to the market to buy his bit
of dinner, and had seen the shops lighted
up, and the children shouting about the
windows, and people 'hurrying along
with all manner of mysterious bundles :;
and the jollity and merTiment made him
more Wretched and lonesome than ever.
/ Why should he, of all the world, have
nothing for which to be glad on Christ
mas Eve? The very crossing sweeperS
danced with their muddy brooms and
ratified the cOppers in their pockets, but
he had not soul to wish him well or
care if it went i'll with him. 1t seemed
all the worse because there had been
some one, not so very long ago.


The wife who loved him. in spite of
his deformity, had only been dead a wear:
and though he felt that. somewhere and
somehow, she was with the blessed. he
had never learned to think of her as a
/ Christmas angel, singing the old song of
peace and good will to men.


So Tom was lonesome as he sat by his
fire waiting until the sound of hurrying
steps and noisy voices should cease. as
/ it did after awhile. The lights went out,
too, from all the houses IN the neighbor-
hood, and Toms lantern burned on m-
/ til it was time to set the switch for the
night express. Then he went out gloom
| lily, swinging his lantern. and never once
! looking up. He could hear the faint
whistle of the train. three minutes late


that night. He wondered at it as he set
| the switch.


/ Down the long street, right and left,
all was still and dark, only at the bridge.


where the night patrol made a restless
black shadow ON the little strip of light.
| Overhead the stars were glittering; and
away beyond them. Tom thought, was
God, forgetting all his poor. Up and
down for a little way the red CLEAN of
the lantern showed the cindery road and
the duR black rails; showed the little
frozen puddles between the ties; and
something elSe-TOm was not quite sure
what-a small dark bundle lying upon
the track. He had it in his bands in a
moment. None too soon, for the express
came laundering down, and the engi-
neer had a glimpse of something darting
away from the very brink of deStruc-
ton. But Tom had the bundle, and,
with his breath coming quick and hard,
he turned into the house, and laid it
down in the light of the fire.


Its a baby, and it's dead!" lie said,
opening the dirty old shawl and looking
curiOusly at the white, pinched face and
thin, blue lips. Never i'll all his life
had Tom touched baby before; and
his dull heart stirred little as he lift
ed the small, pallid hands, and let them
fall again, strOked the cold cheek with
his coarse finger, and then, folding the
shawl about it, laid it Oh the foot of his
bed. Just as he laid it down the Christ
mas chimes began to ring from the st.
Madeline steeple, and poor Tom stopped
his ears with his pillow, and said in
his angry heart: " 1t is all lie. There
is neither peace nor good will"


Tom slept late the next morning. |
He liked his Sunday morning nap. when
there was no train to Waken for, and |
nothing else, indeed-no Christmas
greeting from wife or child. He thought !
of it sorrOwfully, lying half awake,
with the red sunshine streaming across /
his face. Then he started up with a
sudden remembrance of the little bundle |