Collection › The Lutheran Pioneer (St. Louis) › Vol. 23 (1901) › Page 47

The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1901, Page 47

front matter 1 Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48

Concordia Seminary Library, St. Louis (scholar.csl.edu/lutheran_pioneer/23)

⤓ Download page image (full resolution)

Transcription machine transcription, uncorrected

⤓ Download .txt · copy text

ES sa OT SS eZ

‘The Lutheran Pioneer. 47

A Christmas Story.

It was the evening before Christmas and the
streets of a certain city were crowded with
pedestrians hurrying this and that direction,
all unmindful of the sharp December winds
that would have driven almost everybody in-

doors on almost any other evening of the|

year, or of the sleet and snow that flew madly
about, almost blinding those whose faces were
exposed.

‘You are not going out on such an evening
as this?’’ said Martha, the faithful house-
keeper of the well-known manufacturer J. P.
Wells, as her master donned his coat
and reached for his hat and cane.

“Certainly; it is Christmas eve,
you know.’’

"Yes, I know; but it is dreadful
weather, Papa Wells,’’ said the
former.

“T couldn’t sleep, Martha, if I
would not go out to-night,’’ saying
which he went out and entered the
carriage which awaited him.

For years Mr. Wells had made a
trip on Christmas eve to the homes
of some deserving poor people of
whom he had knowledge, in com-
pany with his driver, who, having
loaded the carriage according to in-
structions through the day, attended
also to the unloading in the evening,
under Mr. Wells’ directions. —

Inasmall frame house in a remote
part of the city from Mr. Wells’
fashionable home, lived Jerry Ames
and his family. The oldest son,
John, was, since the illness of his
father, the chief support of the
household of seven. John was but
eighteen years old, but his integrity
and energy had won for him the
confidence and esteem of his fore-
man in the J. P. Wells shops, and
the manufacturer himself had not
failed to notice the lad, and to en-
courage his promotion from time to
time. Buta slight accident had befallen John,
and he was compelled -to ‘‘lay off” just when
his family needed his wages the worst.

‘A slim Christmas this year, Mary,’’ said
Mr. Ames, as his wife was trying her best to
fix up some old, forgotten toys for the chil-
dren, and some more useful articles for John
and Catherine, the oldest daughter.

“Never mind, papa; it will be better next
year,” said Mrs, Ames, trying to seem in good
spirits.

“He won’t trust us,’’ said Catherine, just
entering the room. She had been down at
the grocery asking for a supply of ecatables
on time, but had been told that they kept no
book account, and must insist on getting cash.

“Very well; we can make out a day or two
yet,’’ said the mother, trying to conceal her
Sore disappointment.

‘What! won’t trust us?’’? exclaimed John
{from the other room.
him, isn’t it? What in the world will we do,
hobbled out on his crutches to the kitchen.
“O, we will get through,’’ said Mrs. Ames.
‘What have you to eat in the house?"’
“Not a great variety, I must confess, John,
but we can have a happy Christmas anyway.”’

|

the lad peevishly.

chief thing about a real Christmas.

Christmas in the Home.

the Lord is withholding the good things from
us this year so that we will think more of the
greatest of all good things, our Lord Jesus,
and the salvation He offers us.’”

“Yes; I think you have the right idea,
Mary,” said Mr. Ames, thoughtfully. “Chil-
dren, let us think more of the wants of our
souls.”

‘All were reflecting on Mrs. Ames’ sensible
words when footsteps were heard, followed by
aloud knocking. Opening the door Catherine
found a box of eatables and useful articles, and
sundry toys, and a card with the words: ‘“The
Christ Child brings you a happy Christmas.”

‘What does it all mean?” said all four, as
they gazed upon the pile of presents.

‘Well, the Lord Jesus sent us these good

‘Well, that’s nice of

| ‘Well, itisn’t so bad as that; but let us not

A Christmas Present for Mother.

| He was an odd-looking little figure as he

|mother?”’ he asked with much emotion, as he|}came merrily whistling down the street the

morning after the big snow. His nose was
red, his hands were bare, his feet were in shoes
several times too large, and his hat was held
in place by a roll of paper under the sweat-
| band; but he piped away like a steam whistle,

‘‘Christmas with nothing to eat!’’ exclaimed} and carried the big snow shovel much as a

marching soldier carries his rifle.
“How much?’ from an imposing-looking

forget that eating alld making merry is not the| man, who was asked if he wanted his walks
Perhaps | cleaned.

“Ten cents.”

“A nickel’s enough.”’

“It would be if I couldn’t do no
better; but I’ve got to do the best
Ican, and business is rushing. Good
morning,’’ and the merry whistle
filled the air as the boy started
away.

“Go ahead and clean ’em!’?
shouted the man, whose admiration
had been aroused.

‘‘Just see that little rascal make
the snow fly!’’ he laughed to his
wife, who stood at the window with
him. ‘Why, he’s a regular snow-
plow; and he does it well, too.”

‘What a little mite! and how
comical! I wonder if he’s hungry ?””

She called him in as soon as he
had finished, but he would not take
time for more than a cup of coffee.

‘Too busy,”’ he said.

“What are you going to do with
the money?’’ asked the man, as he
insisted on settling at twenty-five
cents.

“I’m going to get mother a shawl
for Christmas. She’s wearing one
that you can see through, and it
ain’t right.’”

On he went, with glowing cheeks,
and his cheery whistle. But they
had his name and address. It was
the wife who took a shawl to the
mother; and it was the husband who installed
the sturdy little snow shoveler as office boy in
a. bright new uniform, and with permission to
whistle when he felt like it.

_ +P oo

Our Preachers.

When Luther saw the cattle in the pasture,
he said, ‘‘There are our preachers, the milk
carriers, the butter carriers, the cheese car-
riers, the wool carriers, who daily preach to us
faith in God, that we shall trust Him as our
Father, who cares for us and will nourish us.’”

—s caer oe

Tue subject and object of the Holy Scrip-

things as an evidence of His love,’ said|tures is to commend to us the chief work of

Mrs. Ames. —Selected.

God, that is, faith in Him. —Zuther.