Christmas

Christmas By Mary West Riggs

It was the 23rd of December. Tiny white flakes were steadily falling. The whole earth seemed wrapped in the emblem of purity. Even the pines resembled tall, white sentinels set to guard the lonely settlers. "Isn't this jolly weather for Christmas?" cried Archie Bowen, as he rushed up to the log fire lively dancing in the huge old fireplace, "You ought to see my sled now, mother, it is a dandy." Sister Bowen smiled sweetly. What happiness could surpass this! Surely, earth has no peace so holy, as the blessed rest of a mother's love. Little Dell was working at the popcorn balls. Gerald was making the paper festooning for the Christmas tree, while Mable and Bess had finished the Christmas cookies. "There, mother dear; every sock and stocking is beautifully mended," said Alice. "That is good," answered the mother, as she set the lighted lamp upon the table, but I cannot understand why your father and Ben are so late coming." "Here is father now," said Archie, as he set the pail of steaming milk down with a bang and a splash. With a scream of delight every child followed; for whenever father came home there was always a wild race for the pasture gate. Crunch, crunch, came the sound of the wheels against the hardened snow, and an occasional jingle of the frozen buckles and harness straps: finally the wagons came to a stand; there was a bevy of hands and feet each of the possessors of which was eagerly clamoring for the first kiss. The children's greetings being over, father and mother were left for the few confidential words each loved to hear. "Why were you so late?" inquired the wife. "To that question, dear, I must answer much. The roads were soft and heavy. I thought they might be better higher up on the rim, so we took the road leading around by Houck's ranch. I found the Houck family in a very pitiable condition. He has been bedfast for weeks with rheumatism and yet unable to get out. They have three helpless children. They had no wood and were out of provisions. We unloaded two hundred pounds of flour, and dragged in some wood. "When we were ready to leave, the poor, little lady followed us out and said in a choked voice: "You'll never know how much good you've done this Christ-

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mas time. Our children have almost broken our hearts, as they have talked of Christmas and the toys they knew Santa would bring. This morning their father broke down entirely. I called them out into the kitchen and told them I wanted to hear no more of Christmas, or Santa Claus; and that the first one who mentioned it again would be punished. I told them we had not even flour enough to make another loaf of bread. I did not dare to tell their father, and I was almost wild. Our little George said: "Why, mama, what's the matter with you? You know we have asked the Lord to help us, and you know he will, 'cause he always answers prayers. He will send us some flour for supper, you just see, and sure enough he has done so. I feel I owe my children much for the lesson they have taught me, and I ask God to bless you, Mr. Bowen. — "We drove away, but, mother those children have just as much faith that Santa will come, as they had that the Lord would — send them flour and what are we to do ? It rests with us ; shall those innocent children lose faith in prayer? Or shall Santa really visit them? "He must visit them," declared the faithful wife, as she — dashed the tears away, "but how there is nothing to buy even if we had plenty of money." "I know," continued the husband, "Yes, Ben and I have a plan, if it would meet with your approval. We were wondering if we could not make up a box for the Houck family. I've brought each of us a small Christmas. We could talk it over with the children tonight; you see, we might start the box by first dividing the apples, candy, and nuts." "Husband, I do not wish to be selfish, but if you've given them so much flour, don't you think that if we send them some cookies and popcorn, that would be enough?" "The cookies and popcorn will help, but would this not be one of the best opportunities of teaching to our children the lesson of self-sacrifice and charity? Would that not be the true spirit of Christmas? Do we not loose the real significance of Christmas by our great preparations for a joyful time? Do we — teach our children the real meaning that we celebrate the day in honor of Christ's birthday? Do we follow his example in making everybody happy? That is why the practice of giving has been instituted. Christ gave to all men liberally. Shall we tell our children to pity the poor Houck children, and be thankful we have so much? Will that be enough?" "Husband, I am ashamed. I know you are surprised at the attitude I have taken, but it seemed that if we divided everything, we would all run short. I care not for myself; but for our own babies; they, too, are praying that Santa Claus may not forget to come."

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"I know, my dear," gently answered the husband; "but the prayers of our children need not go unanswered; for, if you are willing, we will unpack our Christmas box tonight. We could tell them a true story of poor children and see what they wish to do." "Show them everything tonight, instead of filling their stockings! I had doted on that so much; still, I feel this lesson will be of lasting value, if our children can see it for themselves and do it by their own free will." "Children, can we all meet around the fireplace after supper? We have some business to attend to." Each one felt secretly complimented, that they were of so much consequence. A word from the father, and Ben and Archie left the house, soon returning with a mysterious-looking box. On the lid was written, "Compliments to the Bowen family — — from Santa Claus." "Shucks! Why didn't you wait till Christmas, Ben?" said Mable. "There'll be no fun now, I don't want to see my things." "I don't either," said Gerald. "My Christmas is all spoiled." The father quickly took the stand, "Children," he said, "can you listen to a true story? Coming home, we had a sad experience." Then he vividly pictured the cabin, and the want and the misery of the Houck family. "You know," continued the father; "those poor children have been praying for flour, and we took them some. They felt that the Lord had sent it, and now they are praying that Santa Claus will visit them. May wants a doll ; George a French harp — perhaps even now they are praying. Their papa's too sick to get out; their mama is tired and sad; they have not a cent of money; still they believe that Santa will come. Think how hard they will cry when they get up Christmas morning and find their stockings limp and empty. We can read pretty stories of Christmas and poor people, but here is a real true story. The poor children are right at our doors, perhaps poorer than those we read of. Remember, Christmas is Christ's birthday, and we should try to please him, by being good to everybody, and making everybody happy, and in giving to others we make ourselves happy. If Baby Bess would give a doll to the little poor girl, and Gerald a harp, we would share all we have. Jesus would look down in approval; for he says, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these ye have done it unto me.' With eager desire and the hearty sanction of each member of the family a large box was brought. "Here is the first dona- tion," said the father as he placed a huge cut of beef in the bot- tom of the box. "Well," said the mother, who was fast partaking of the true Christmas spirit "here's some sugar, this ham, and a bottle ;

of mincemeat."

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"Is not this fun?" cried Dell; here are six of my largest popcorn balls; put them in carefully, won't you, papa?" "Now, Santa Claus sent us this box; if you would like to open it, perhaps we might find something else to send," said the

father. "Oh, hurry and open it," said Gerald. "I hope he has sent me a harp, so that boy George won't be disappointed." The parents exchanged hasty glances. What self-sacrifice coming from their boy! What beauty from innocent childhood! Soon the box was opened, and the children almost screamed as the odor of cherry-red apples greeted them, and then the sack of store candy and nuts. All were quickly divided, and a goodly portion of each was laid with the popcorn balls. "Please send some of our cookies, too," said Mable and Bess, as they brought forward round rings and fair specimens of the animal kingdom, all made from the cookie dough. Then came the presents; first mother's, a good pair of warm woolen blankets and a large shawl. "Santa" must have known just what I wanted," laughed the mother, as she fondly passed her hands over the soft woolen textures. "Yes," said Ben, "and when I saw how cold that poor, sick man seemed, how I wished we could leave him a good, warm blanket. Their bedding seemed so thin and worn to me." The mother's face, for one instant, was almost grey in its bitter struggling. Were they not carrying this to an extreme? Did they not also need the blankets? Then she caught the eyes of her children upon her. Why, O why had the thing seemed so hard? The good in her had conquered; self was crushed for the hour. "Ben," she said, "kindly roll up my beautiful blankets, and place them in the Christmas box." "Hurrah!" cried Arch; "Now for the next, hurry it up; this is more fun than opening our socks Christmas morning."

"Well, the next parcel seems to be for you, my boy." "Hip-hip-hooray! Now lookout; a new pair of suspenders! Just what I've been needing; and 0, look! something I've been wanting for a century, a real silk muffler," and before he knew it he was before the mirror tying the silky muffler about his neck. "I guess we'd better go on to the next, father; Arch does not want to make further donation." "Dickens I don't," returned Arch; "of course I want to see the box full, but my suspenders won't fit any of them, and my — — muffler," he stopped ge he did not want to see that go; he felt of it again, forgetting the family at large; of course, the muffler would be dandy for the old gent when he began sitting — — up and getting out, but well he gave a great gulp. It was the hardest thing he ever did, but no one must know it, he thought.

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He threw his head high and said, "Here, Ben, throw this neck thing in. It'll help fill it up." The father gave his son a tender glance, which was full of love and praise. Next came a parcel for Alice. She snapped the string, "O mother, see," she said, "a dress pattern; I guess he knew how — — — much I wanted a new dress and ah a pair of gloves, kid ones too;" and she commenced fitting the gloves, forgetting the eyes that were watching. Suddenly she awoke with a start. "I want to give something, I know I'll be happier," she said. "It is very easy to give, I find, if it is something we are not particu- — larly fond of; but if it happens to be things like these new dress and gloves, both I've wanted so long; why, it is a different thing." "I would not give either," said Ben; "your gloves would not fit any of them, and I reckon Mrs. Houck has worn calico so long, that she would not feel comfortable in warm woolen stuff like that." "Ben, surely, that poor woman was not wearing a calico dress in this cold weather." "It looked like calico to me, and muchly mended at that," he answered. Alice felt ashamed of her slight indecision, "Please put my dress in the Christmas box for that dear little woman." "Oh, won't she be tickled?" cried Mable. "The next parcel is for Gerald. The little fellow reached longingly for it. "Oh, I'm so tickled; I've got a harp, put it in quick for that George. I bet he will be tickled. I'm so glad," and he danced about as though he owned the world. — Then Mable's came a work box and a new coat. "Mother," she said, "my old coat is too small for me; how would it be to clean it up nicely and give that to the little poor girl?" "All right," agreed the parents; then, for fear she might have appeared selfish, she did up the pretty basket and laid it in the Christmas box. "Baby Bess, here is yours." The little tot laughed, "Oh, ook, ook; everybody ook; I'se got a dolly and some dishes, too, put my dolly wight away fo' dat 'ittle girl what's been crying; I can ove my dishes." Dell was glad to put half his marbles and horn away. "Hurrah for the Bowens!" said Ben. "Now let us add this heavy quilt and a piece of flannel, and then our box is bountifully filled." Someone started the strains of that pretty Christmas song, "Far, far away on Judea's Plains." All the parts were taken, from the clear tenor, down the strong, low base. The whole house seemed ringing with joy and peace on earth good will to men.

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No happiness could exceed that which filled each heart that night. The next morning the family cheerily arose. More cookies were being baked, more popcorn was being popped. Yes, they'd all have to work a little faster and a little longer than they had planned, but what of that? They were happy, and everything seemed a pleasure. The afternoon dawned lowering. "Boys, we're going to have a heavy storm, it seems. You'd better hitch on to the sled and deliver our Christmas box." The family watched the proceedings preparatory to the departure, and all offered suggestions of just how their precious box should set. "Hurry back. Tell us all they say. Won't they be tickled?" cried the children all in a breath, as Ben and Archie drove away in the snow. Among the older members of the family the Santa Claus scheme had been planned as the prettiest method of giving their Christmas box; so, shortly before reaching the Houck ranch, the boys drew up the reins, and, with Archie's help, Ben donned the old St. Nicholas garb. Archie waited just in sight of the cabin, while Ben drove up and called: "Ha, ha and ho, ho, is there no one at home?" Soon the doorway was crowded with eager, hopeful little faces. "I told you, I told you," cried the believing little George. Even the poor mother gasped, but could not speak. "Merry Christmas to all of you!" called the rounded St. Nicholas. "I had so many trips to take; had to make this place a little early; but your mother can fill your stockings for me." He patted each orthe children playfully as he turned to go, but before he reached the sled the mother was at his side. "I don't know who you are," she said in a hoarse whisper, "but as long as I live I shall pray God's blessings upon the Santa Claus who visited Bach a sad and lonely ranch this Christmas time." "That is a bounteous reward, my dear lady, and now a merry Christmas to all of you!" And he merrily dashed away. Mother and children dragged the great box inside. They removed the lid and all stared in joyful amazement at the sight of the good things. "Let us kneel, thank God, and ask his blessings upon the givers," said the father. Ah, Mother Bowen! Could you but see those heads so humbly bent, could you but hear the choked and halting words which are so earnestly spoken, you would thrice thank your Maker for giving unto you this golden opportunity, which will add joy and peace to your household forevermore. Twin Falls, R. D. No. 3, Idaho.