# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1886_S47 # Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration) The Lutheran Pioneer. After Ten Years. A TALE OF TWO CHRISTMAS EVES. ’Twas a beautiful Christmas Eve, clear, cold and star-lit, that Farmer Brown’s heavy sleigh drew up in front of the old square farm house. He was returning from the small station N—. The sleigh contained two passengers, a delicate, The kind- hearted farmer had found them in the cheer- less waitingroom at ‘‘the junction,” waiting to take the northbound train that would not pass before noon of the following day; and had in- vited them ‘‘up to the house to spend the palefaced woman and a little girl. night.’ If the farmer was given to such generous im- pulses, however, his wife was not, as the poor travelers very soon found out, for, with the first streak of light that came from the open “Idid wrong. I see it now. it. But don’t blame me 50, sadly, “and T’'ll go to the city man that holds the note. money, and maybe he'll agree to some arrange- ment, so I can pay it off by d our home.” I'm sorry for Sarah,’’ he said, “That's the first sensible word you’ve said about the business,’’ cried Mrs. Brown. him off, that by ten o’clock the next morning he was ringing at the door of the beautiful city | band?”’ mansion in which a newly made groom, the 47 nD “Why here is my friend—my mother’s friend!’’ exclaimed the bride, dropping her and see this rich | husband's arm, and running up to the old man He don’t need the] with both hands outstretched to greet him. “Don’t you remember me, sir? I am the little egrees and not sell | girl you sheltered in your home. If you had not been so good to us, I might have lost my mother then.’’ “‘T remember, miss—ma’am,” stammered the And she bestirred herself so effectually to get | farmer, turning crimson all over his face. “And did you come to see me, or my hus- asked Lucy. “Tt was-him, ma’am— the gentleman that holder of the note, had just taken up his resi-| holds the note and the mortgage on our home. dence. He was admitted by a servant who was rush-| pay the debt. ing out on an errand in hot haste. It has been foreclosed, and-I must lose it to I wouldn’t have dared to come here, ma’am, on such an errand, only it’s life There was no one in the hall to receive him. | #4 death to me and my wife. Weare getting The bride and groom had just returned from | ld now, and I don’t know where we could find their wedding trip in time to spend Christmas another home. If more time could be given in their own home, and the household staff} ™e, I could pay off the note and mortgage by wasn’t, as yet, organized. degrees; but I cannot do it now. If I am door her sharp voice was heard exclaiming: ‘‘Sakes alive, Caleb Brown? Brought home two people to eat us out of house and home, > - and you at your wits end to get along. Well, if ever I heard the like! We shall live to come to want through your doings! Now you mark my words!’ Such a pleasant looking home it had been to those weary wayfarers before its mistress ap- peared: But Mrs. Brown spoiled it all. Her sharp, hard voice made the poor woman who came to seek her charity shudder and grow sick at heart. “Don’t mind us, sir, we'll go back to the station,’’ she said, faintly, to the farmer. She reached forward to touch the farmer on the shoulder, but even that effort was too much for her wasted strength. She sank forward, and would have fallen in the snow under the horses’ feet if the farmer, warned by acry from the little girl, had not turned and caught her in his arms. He bore the fainting woman indoors and Jaid her down on the spare room bed. With his own hands, the kind old man carried in a plentiful supper and breakfast to the wanderers. And when, after the latter meal, the poor woman bade him adieu, patted’ her on the shoulder encouragingly, and slipped a five- dollar bill into her hand. ‘Take it, my dear, as a Christmas present to you and the little one, ’twill be of help to you, till you get stronger, or till you find your friends.” Ten years have passed and Christmas is again at hand. It begins to look as if Mrs. Brown had only been too true a prophet when she foretold ruin for her husband and’ the alms- house for them both. In an evil day Caleb Brown signed a note for a poor and struggling neighbor, who died almost penniless just as the time of payment drew near. Their homestead, already mort- gaged, must go to pay the debt, and he was ten years older, broken down by hard work, and_beaten down just now by his wife's tongue, which never ceased repeating, ‘Didn't I tell you so??? till his poor heart was fit to break. He wandered on till he came to the library, | Pressed for it, the home must go.” where the master of the house was sitting in company with his two-months’ old bride. “George, for my mother’s sake, you won't let him lose his home,” said the young wife, The old man glanced through the half-open imploringly. door, at the rich carpet, the velvet and rose- “This business is in the hands of my country wood chairs, then at the pictures on the walls, | °8¢" and ener nothing of it until now,’’ he till his eyes fell upon a portrait that hung in observed. Make your old friend stay and the place of honor above the fireplace, and he take dinner with us, Lucy, and I will settle the stood still. ‘ ‘*T ought to know her well,’’? mused the old man. ‘And I know now,—it is the poor lady affair.’’ At eight o'clock that Christmas Eve Caleb who came to our house, that Christmas Eve, | Brow” reached his farm, a happy man. with the pretty little child. It looks as if all Never had the old place seemed so dear to their troubles must be over now, if they live him as now, and he gazed around the snow- in a house like this.”’ In the library, at the same moment, a pair of blue eyes were lifted to the portrait, and tears dimmed their light. “Tf the picture makes you sad, darling, it S must be moved to one of the upper rooms,’’ said the husband. “Ym not unhappy when I look at her,’’ re- plied the young wife. ‘I was only thinking how sad it was that she could not have lived to share with us this beautiful home.”’ “Your mother did not care to live longer, Lucy,”’ said her husband, after a pause. to you before he died.” ‘‘Yes; and then she suffered so, in that dreadful time, when we had no money and no home,” replied his wife. ‘‘You can never imagine how she was beaten down into the very dust. One Christmas Eve—oh, how well “She | the farm house. told me so herself, after she had found your} the bride in her uncle Eustace, and persuaded him to do justice | yoqyr3?? clad fields, and at the old gray house, as we only gaze at the things we love, when they’ve been nearly lost to us. His wife met him at the door, eager-faced and sharp of tongue as ver. “It’s the cup of cold water that the good Book speaks of—it’s the blessing that follows the giving,” said the old man solemnly as he finished the story of the day. ‘The note was destroyed by the little girl we sheltered that night ten years ago, the mortgage is cancelled, and this is our house once more.’’ *Twas a happy Christmas for the old folks at And an even happier one to city home, who, ‘After Zen had been able to pay the debt of gratitude she owed to Farmer Brown. —s oP > oo He Was Still a Christian. Fifty years ago there was a dinner party in I remember it—she would certainly have died, | London, and after the ladies had retired the if it had not been for a kind old-farmer who} conversation became very dishonoring to Christ. took us to his home, although his cross wife ob-] One guest alone was silent, and presently he jected. Some day, George, I wish you would |arose and ordered his carriage, while, with go with me to see that kind old man, and thank polished courtesy, he apologized for leaving on him in my mother’s name.’’ the ground that he was “‘still a Christian.’ They went out into the hall. There stood | One would think perhaps that he was a clergy- the farmer, turning his hat about in his hands, |man; but no, he was the Prime Minister of and looking like a man dazed. England; it was the late Sir Robert Peel.