# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1887_S47
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

The Lutheran Pioneer.

Christmas in the Old Car.

Not far from Charleston Junction, on the
line of the Southern Railroad, is an old car,
half buried in the swamp, its sides almost cov-
ered with the young palmetto trees. It is the
home of a poor family. A rusty stove pipe
protrudes from one end, from which the smoke
often curls gracefully towards the tops of the
tall pines.

One morning, last December, two little girls
came out of this house on wheels.

z |
barefooted and bareheaded, for their mother| Out came the stranger’s silver again, this time) box.

could not afford hats or shoes, but, fortunately,
the cold winds of the North never reached
them, and snow and ice they had never seen.
The children were going to the Junction to
meet the Southern bound train, which was
due in half an hour. While it
waited they would sing to the
Northern people some little songs
their mother had taught them.
The pennies they received from
the passengers were often quite
an income to this ‘poor family.
With hands lovingly clasped,
curls dancing in the breeze, and
eager, expectant faces, they hur-
ried along that morning, for the
season was advancing, more people
would come South, and that meant
more pennies for mother.

The train was already coming
in the distance, so they took their
places on a little bank of sand
beside the track. This brought
them nearly even with the car
windows. The train rolled swiftly
towards them, slackened, then
paused, and the little girls began
to sing. Immediately the car
windows were raised, and the
passengers looked out. There were tears in
many eyes as their voices sang so sweetly,
“Christ the Saviour’ and ‘‘Over Yonder.”
Every one dropped a penny into their out-
stretched hands, but one man extended his
arm from the window, saying, impatiently:

“Can’t you sing anything but church songs?
Give us some dance songs, and dance, and I'll
give you ten cents.”’

The smiles faded frém the children’s faces,
they stared at the man a moment, then the
eldest said, gravely and sweetly:

‘*Please, sir, we are very poor and need the
ten cents, but we do not know any dance songs,
and cannot dance.’’

The train began to move, the stranger with-
drew his arm, putting the dime back in his
pocket. The little girls hurried home and gave
the money to their mother, telling of the man’s
request,

Three weeks later, having transacted his|”

business, the stranger was on his way home.
Those “church songs’’ had rung: in -his ears,
“waking many sacred memories;' already they.
~ had borne blessed fruit for himself and others!

They were}

I bring you good tidings of great joy.

47

eee — eee

That was why the busy man paused at
Jacksonville on leaving the St. John’s River|
boat, and spent the whole afternoon in its|
stores looking for ‘‘something suitable for two}
small girls,’ and why, at length, a mysterious |
| box was added to his baggage.

The sisters were not at the Junction when|
the train arrived; there were no barefooted, |
curly-headed maidens upon the platform of |
sand; no sweet strains opened as by magic the|
car windows. He eagerly inquired for them. |
|—they had not ‘‘been seen round here lately.’’|

to tempt a man to deliver the box on the steps}
of the children’s home.
So, after dark that night the box was placed |

on the old car platform. It laid undiscovered |

till morning, for all was excitement within the |

Unto you is born
in the city of David, a Saviour.

car. The dear little girls were sick with fever;
it seemed at one time as if they would never
sing their songs on earth again, but that night
when the messenger brought the box another
messenger of healing came, and they slept
quietly. In the morning the fever had left
them. One of the girls awoke as the sun
streamed in through the window and said
weakly:

“Mother, how long have I been here?”’

‘Almost three weeks, darling, but you are
better now.””

“What day is it, mother?”

She replied that is was Christmas:

‘“What is it about Christmas?” asked the
sick girl. ‘‘There’s something nice about it,
I know, but I forgot.” .

‘Christ was born on Christmas,”’ said th
mother. : ‘

The girl smiled faintly.

“Qh yes,”’ she said, ‘‘it’s all come to me now.’ ”
_ Just then the mother opened the door to let

‘in more of the bright sun and saw the square

box. What did it mean? Did it belong. to

them? She turned it-over several times, but}

could find no name. Who could have sent it?
She decided to open it. As she opened the
cover a note dropped out. On it were these
words:

“A merry Christmas to the two little girls
who sang so sweetly a few weeks ago the hymns
‘Christ the Saviour’ and ‘Over Yonder.’

‘Sing the blessed message of the Master
every chance you can get and great will be
your reward. A STRANGER.’

The mother’s tears could not be kept back—
they ran down her cheeks upon the Christmas
She was thinking that those voices had
nearly been hushed for earthly message-bearing,
and also thanking God that even what they
were forced to do by poverty might lead others
to the Christ she loved.

In the box were two pairs of shoes, two
dresses, two cloaks and some books,
things they greatly needed.. Now
they could go to church and Sun-
day school, three miles away.
Their mother had already plaited
them some palmetto hats for Sun-
day. She had learned how of the
Spanish women of St. Augustine.

Later in the day their mother
told them of the Christmas present
and the stranger’s words. Never
had anything so nice happened to
these poor girls—they clapped
their hands for joy.

Many elegant presents were
exchanged last Christmas, many
homes were filled with joy; but
not the least joyful among them -
was the Christian home in the old
car in the Southern woods.

this day, EL. B.

——_>— oe

The Bird’s Christmas Tree.

At Christmas time the little people in Nor-
way, not content with giving presents among
themselves, provide a treat for the little brown
birdies which have not deserted them for a
warmer climate. Before the sun goes down,
these sturdy little North men*and women put
on their wide snowshoes, which look like little
boats, and muffle up in their warmest furs and
woollens. Their father goes to the barn and
brings out a generous sheaf of unthreshed
grain, which is tied to a long pole. With many
merry shouts, the children plant the pole firmly
in the snow just by the cottage gable, and be-
fore long a greedy flock of little birds are hop-
ping over it, enjoying to the full their Christ-
mas feast. It is just the right sort of a Christ-
mas tree for them, and it does the children
quite as much good. It is a sweet lesson of
thoughtful care for one of the lowliest, gentlest
of God's creation. It is a good sign for a boy
and girl, when you see them kind to animals.
Birds soon learn where they are welcome. _;