Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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I BOW BABOUStl | FOUND TBE II CHRIST CBILI i$o2S2S252525 NIGHT was falling fast, and the snow was piled high against the outer walls of the hovel where a poor moujik (peasant) named Katoma lay dying in a little village in faraway Russia. Kato 111a knew that he was going to die. It was Christmas eve, but there was no gladness in the season for him. His wife, whom he had loved very dearly, was' already gone. For three consecutive years now bis crops had failed. A few weeks before the wolves had devoured his last cow. If he had been entirely alone in the world he would have said to death, "Come; thou art we! ;ome!" But there was one other, his boy Ossip. The idea of death became ter" % ? ^ - o i 1 kU ttiue ween ne inougiu 01 itawuj; ma boy nil alone with not a cof>eck to bless himself with. When I tell you that it takes 100 copecks to make a ruble and that a - ruble is less than 60 cents, you will understand how dreadfully poor Katoma was. He could not die peacefully for thinking of Ossip's future. His dim eyes turned fondly toward the pillow by his side, which the boy's thick black hair almost covered. Ossip lay motionless in sleep. The sick man put one feeble hand upon his boy's smooth forehead and silently commended him to heaven's care. The house was very still. The hour was late. Ossip's healthy, regular breathing was the only audible sound. If only kind heaven would raise up one friend for his boy out of the millions of good people this big world swarmed I'oMmo folt tlio't ho cViap'H nnt i *T jiii, JLXUivuja tuav uv ouvu*w **w mind bow soon he was laid away under the frozen sods. While his hand rested on Ossip's \ head and his heart was filled with these anxious thoughts the door of the hove! opened softly. . The moujik turned wondering eyes in that direction. and there, coming noiselessly toward him aeross the beaten earthen floor, was a tall woman with soft brown eyes foil of pitying tenderness. 1 She came close to the bed, on Ossip's side of it and, looklDg clown upon the sleeping child, she muttered: "Perhaps this is the one at last." Kntoma looked at her anxiously. "Whence came you, good mother, and what seek you?" Across the sleeping boy she. answered softly: "I have come for Ossip. They told me in the village that thy days were numbered, and I knew that Ossip * would need a friend. I will love and > / [i "i have COilE FOE ossip." Care for him as though he were my very own. 1 am called Baboushka, and I keep my promises." Then Katoma, the moujik, died happy, for he knew that Baboushka was o ir-iovwi to nil little children, and when U i&4VMV* ?. V %?> . __ she gathered Ossip close into her motherly arms when the end came the child ceased weeping for his dead father. When Baboushka and Ossip were well on their way to the old woman's home, in the next village, they heard a pitiful sound of weeping somewhere on the tree shadowed side of the road. The old woman stopped at the sound. "We will go and see who is in trouMp. Ossip. Our eyes and ears should always b? kept well opened so that no sign of distress may escape us." (luided by the sound, they came to a stone where, wailing and shivering in the darkness of the wiDter night, ibey fosmd a little girl scarcely as large as Ossip. who was not at all well grown for his eight,years. Bnbeushfcn fcnelf down by the child and. gathering her eold little feet late a wa^w clasp. mut-terrd: "EVrhaps this f? tire ChWd.1* " she told atetKJ, "ITfegt Is tfcy I' il If/ i L n.. 6? HA Dy-- 10 !| JEANNEnE H. J? $?. WALWORTH * ?$ 1 Copyright, loos, By Jcanntttt yi H. Walworth $? it-/^ larf^i ,o t^S iTyr*T^r"l|ir?Ti|^iy^^*T||r*^r*T||y *^y? *TyrrT|jr*T^?^lJJ name, little one. and what doest thou here aloue in the bitter nighttime?" At wffich the child's tears flowed afresh, and between her sobs she told the kind, soft eyed woman how she had been traveling with a great company of men and women who were leaving their own village to seek a better land across the seas ?our own blessed America, I make no doubt ? and how. when they had encamped for the night, her aunt, who was the only relative she had in the world, had sent her into the woods to gather fagots to put under their soup kettle, and how she had wandered so far that she had , J-J-U-U- 1 1 - "' WimgJ.flUfl SHE TOOK THE CRIPPLED BOY IN HER ARMS not been able to find lier way back to the camp, and bow she feared the wolves would devour her before any one should come to look for ber. Then be told Babousbka that her name was Vasalissa. Baboushka clasped the little wanderer to her zreat motherly heart. "That, indeed, the wolves shall not my dear little Vasalissa. I cannot give thee back to tby aunt, for I know do better than tbou dost where this great company of men and women may be camping for the night. But thou shaft go home with Ossip and me. Thou ahalt share our flre and our porridge, and all that is mine thou shalt share with Ossip. I can keep the wolves of hunger and cokl away, and if thy aunt comes to claim thee abe shall tind thee i rosy and happy." Then Vasalissa quickly dried her tears, and with her band clasped in Baboushka's she trudged cheerfully forward until they came to a tiny little cottage set back from the road a short distance. In its one window a lamp was burning brightly. The window and the temp belonged to Baboushka's cottage. She pushed its unlocked door open, and the chililren entered with her into a clean SAvept, well warmed room. A large chair was drawn close up to | the hearth. As Raboushka entered she j glanced eagerly at this chair, and again J she muttered under her breath: "I nau uopeu ue inigui urate cuuic j while I was out." "Good mother." Ossip asked, "why j do you leave a lighted lamp ia the win- I dow when you go away?" "So that." she answered, "should any } one go astray iu the cold and the dark ! he might find his way to ray poor | cottage. And now let us see if the bean j broth has kept warm all this time. I | made it before I left home in the early j morning bours so that if any wander- j ers found their way hither they might i not leave my roof hungered." The bean broth had kept warm. She bade Ossip throw a few more fagots under the pot and set Vasalissa on a stool in the warmest nook. Then she brought three bowls, filled them with . the bean broth and put then) on the table. Over them she asked a blessing. Before her own wooden spoon hail made two journeys from bowl to lip she heard a timid knock at the door. She ran quickly to answer it. A tall, pale lad stood outside. In bis arms he carried a small mite of a boy, about whose shoulders was wrapped a worn and soiled woman's shawl. The tall, pale,lad looked into the fire lighted room with longing eyes. His teeth chattered with the cold as he asked: "Good mother, may we ask shelter for the night? The cold bites bitter hard, and my little brother Petrnsha is ont a sickly cripple." Then Bnboushka opened wide her door with an eager band and fast beating heart. Perhaps, at last, this was the child. What she said aloud was: "Thai indeed thou may-eat. But why art Qk?h abrentl ? auch a bittt* Bight with the Utfle one?' She t<?k the copied buy b? her an|, (trr?g arms aid espied bias , ? straight to the great chair in the chimney corner. She rapped her own best shawl about him and chafed his small, withered feet until they glowed with warmth. The tall, pale lad looked 0:1 gratefully^ "I am seeking an asylum for the lit tie one," lie said. "I have to work bard to keep kim and myself from want. A rich merchant has promised me work, hut he says I must not bring Petrusha. ^liat he would take too much of my time." "And where seek you an asylum for him ?" Babcushka looked pitifully at the small, sad face of the cripple. The tall brother answered sadly: "Alas, that I know not yet. I was seeking the nearest town to ask counsel of the priest." Baboushka laid a kind hand on the boy's arm. "Put care away from thy young heart. Thou hast found an. asylum for thy crippled brother. He shall travel uo farther on the frozen roads, lie shall be my own little Petrusha. 1 have a tiny truckle bed into which he will fit to a nicety. Such as 1 have, dear child, I make thee welcome to in ~ PKM.Vr. 11- - V. i \ a i.uuic< The night was but very little older when the three children, Ossip. Yasallssa aiul Petroshn, fed. warmed and comforted, were sleeping the care free sleep of Innocent childhood. Only tli? tall lad and Baboushka sat by the liresldo, because there was no bed left for them. "Tell me. good mother." the boy said, looking straight into her kind eyes, "why are you so good, to all children? Your fame has gone abroad." Babouslika did not answer him at once. When she did, her voice sounded as sweet and solemn as church chimes at vesper time. "Yes, I will tell you, my son. for you are nearing your own years of responsibility, and it will be well for you to learn in good time the solemn lesson that an opportunity once lost is lost forever. "Many years ago I was setting my bouse in order when three men stopped at my door with a great piece of news. " 'We have seen a radiant star in the A t-bof f hn pnsi, mey si-iu, uuu ?c <.u<al luv. Christ Child must be come. Leave thy labor. Come with us to Hud him and to do him honor.' "But I sent them away with words of foolish impatience. 'Seest thou not that I am setting my house in order? do thou to where the star beckons thee, and I will follow at some more convenient time. I can see its light without thy help.' "So they went their way and left me to go mine. But when the time came that I fouud it convenient to follow the star clouds obscured the hearens. and there was no star to- be seen, and so i knew not how to seek the Christ Child. "I have been seeking him* ever since. up and down in the land. Whenever, wherever I see a little child I think perhaps 1 have found the One I seek, and aiy heart yearns over him. But not yet have 1 found the Christ Child, whose face must shine with the radiance ?f the star I lost." WitS tears of sorrow wotting her eyelashes Baboushka fell asleep in her chair. She had tilled all of her beds with eatd and friendless children, And as she slept a tender hand seemed to dry her tears and a having voice t\* whisper in her ears: "Inasmuch as ye have doue it wnto the least of these little ones ve have C done It onto me. They were homeless, and ye-took them in. They were hungry. and you have fed tbem. They were cold, and you have warmed tbem. The Chmst Child is in thy own heart." And ot* that glad Christmas meaning Baboushka awoke with a great peace in her soul, for she knew that she had found him she had been seeking far and wide. The Dispatch wis i?-r? the i?e >f Lexington a. Merry Chris mas and a nappy Yeir. - ..., Cofyrlfbt. ^**02. by.'//to JJ " Earth was a desert spat '\/ S a """* \ A weary way,- "*^/ s \% ,Till on the .world there daw$e( tj % \ 'OheChrispnas.doy. ?&. Then. like the fields made gre ^ V / 2?y running brook. )V / Hope came and all the world courage took. wa*9 t I A A &wur CM LOOKING FOR SANTA.CLAUS The snow was falling on the mountains, hiding their tops in a misty veil, and the air was full of whirling flakes, which were rapidly covering the brown j earth with a carpet of white and oblit crating the trail up the mountain side j where trudged, or. rather, stumbled, along a grotesque childish tigure in a ! man's rough jacket, the i sleeves rolled over and \ ft/, ///////A , over to let out the small brown hands, while the J edge of the coat, on a line | with her heels, left a trail i in the snow. A red hood j covered the child's head. I dark curls peeping out ^ , around her face, and in \* i the fearless, wistful eyes s* wl' i 6hone a new light, for f' 1 ! Dorothy was going to find i Santa Claus. When her * j mother had gone to hoav- * | en a short time before. > z!j il-ifmM 1 they had carried her up ?r! ! the mountain, and God .and Santa Claus were al, ways associated together j In the child's mind. So, if God lived up there, Santa Claus could not be far away. Thus reasoned lit- S ^7px 1 tie Dorothy in the hours ^ ~ when her father was off n v|| I W r* ? wurivjug iu tut: iuiuw uuu - ^ she was left alone with _ her rag doll in the little brown hut which served find Santa as shelter and home. Claus. "Santa Claus may not come here now mother has gone," the little girl said, "and it must be near Christmas, so I will liud hira. and perhaps he will take me in his reindeer sleigh to see mother and Cod." Little Dorothy paused in her task of sweeping the one room of their home. and. putting some potatoes in the ashes to bake, tbat her father's supper might be ready for him, she had wrapped herself in his old coat, donned her rod hood and started out to find j Santa' Claus. It chanced that day that one of the | mine owners was down from the city on a tour of inspection, ; and. having seen Dorothy I on a previous trip, he ! had. remembering anothI er little girl who was very I happy on Christmas eve, i brought down a ChristI V mas b?x for Dorothy and Bso strolled along with her father *s be started homeward. that he might give It into the hands,of the little maiden herself. But when tbey reached the brown hut Dorothy was not there, and when repeated call's brought no answer tbe two men, alarmed, started in opposite directions to seek her. ' ^** ^r- following the almost obliterated path j * o up the mountain side. \ I . J ' ' where, a mile beyond, he ( *' J" found the little one al7 " ): most buried in the falling \^< snow, and as he stooped to lift her in hi* arms she | "Dear, goe& mui-mured drowsily, see| Mr. Santa j ^ kinj ^ace, Claus. , over her: | "Dear, good Mr. Santa Claus, I i want"? When site- opened her wistful dark eyes again, tbe same kind face was bending over her as she lay on her cot in the little- brown house. her father holding her in his arms, while beside her was the most beautiful doll of which she had ever dreamed, aDd. } clasping it close to her heart, little | Dorothy asked with reverent joy, the dark eyes tilled to overflowing: [ "Dear Mr. Santa Claus. is yon God j too?" CALLIE BOXXEY MARBLE. tlur J. Buritfek /' / | ?* Earth was atl\jd^/l/;^''i Jjlx^ J A songltsd'J ||^/ / i Till shining anfeelfj&dg fjlf/Jjl Of Christmas^^y* JilfpY 'IfA en Then every tiny/till/pjy' /.jinS That danced' along j y^J'jsk Found voice, And yvitp /the Bird*) Burst foAti ih ' sonjg) // y. co/ay p/are,^ j ^^ M? U j jr f it world's despah^ /' jf'L K dread night? | ' // / ,.? ic fe e*rf& ! \ B /V \ if/ WV? light! \ V \ / '? // 1 \ r; ? i THE TW I SOLDIE 0} *0 , '{'fy <$ 1 Copyright, 190!t by ? -0-?0*0*0*-0-*-0,#'?-,-Q-,-C-,-0-*-C*-0#-C TT was a brilliant holiday store, the windows and the shelves and ? i ??i.i. i: 11 no cases amaze wnu uugrec and thronged with dolls and dishes and engines and trains and skates and sleds, and hobbyhorses ! that galloped, and cows that mooed, | and mice that ran, and?and everything, absolutely everything, that ever enters the most rapturous Christmas dream. In the center of the largo show windows, fronting upon the gay street, stood two soldiers. They were by all odds the finest soldiers in the store, much superior to the personnel com| posing the different troops and regii ments and companies stationed here I and there along the aisles. The pair were made of tin, to be sure; but they were of heroic stature, eight inches tall, richly uniformed in black and yellow, and could be wound up so that they would present arms several times in succession. The other soldiers, poor things, were compelled to remain the whole time at a "carry" or a "right shoulder" without relief. Naturally these two soldiers were proud and of aspirations reaching be? C3I "OS, 10 GET AWAY FROM THIS ETERNAL GUARD MOUNT!" jond their present narrow quarters. Tbey pined for a wider sphere. As they stood and stared with stern, fixed gaze through the plate glass into the gay street they talked together in toy language, and none, not even the most versatile linguists among the people passing and repassing, knew that they talked. "Oh, to get away from thi9 eternal guard mount over a lot of frippery!" sighed the one. "With all my heart!" agreed the other. "The monotony is frightful." "I'd gvte half my solder to receive orders to report to some little boy," continued the first. "Oh, for a change!" "But the majority of little boys are so rough and careless." responded the second. "I understand tbey scratch ! you and bend you and otherwise mal- j treat you without cause, aud soon you're done for. I prefer duty of a more quiet, instructive nature, where i mav teach bv means of my deport- I j ment rather than by violent action." I "Well. I should enjoy a hard drill I and a tussle, I believe." asserted the i first. "Our organism is too fine for such active service, my lad." indulgently J corrected the second. "What?scratches j and dents? No, no. Give me a post of j more elegance, -where my uniform will ! be treated as it deserves." * ? ? * * Christmas day had been over and gone a month when after their separation the two soldiers again encountered one another, but this time in a great heap of rubbish at the city dump, where the dump man had unwittingly thrown them out. "Hurrah! Hello, old chap!" exelaim! ed the first soldier delightedly. | "Hello!" returned the second, with [ rJIllJCl UWlt I rod 1 C. UWU1ITOO. ! through the Seven Years' war'/" Well might he put this query. The j other soldier was a perfect wreck. He t had lost an arm and a foot, hrs head was sharply inclined forward upon his ! chest, he had only one eye, his body [ was frvisted askew, his gun was broj ken. his cap was missing, his features I were battered and distorted, and as for | his uniform of black and yellow?there ; was hardly a spot of paint on him! "F?I've been having my tussle," an| nonfieeti the first, with a oraoiked langh "Rwt yen?why. you eyidwiljj found | just what vm w?*e leeking tor;" "It*.*' extfteithe teboMfl, *'I fell I Vtte as eieelfeit T*e?t. It was the I - ij ' 0 By ?' ^ *u EDWIN Log 1 .:RS * SAB!N I; h 1 Edwin L. Satin - "- ?> rt ? Tq ^ "0?-CKO-,*0^0?^**0*-0-*0*-0^-0^'0^0 hands cf a little boy. sure enough, but he wasn't allowed to hurt me. See, I 1 haven't a mark on me." And he ex- j hibited himself proudly. ?i True, he was still in dress parade condition. "Thunder and Mars!" chuckled the first. "And look at me! Do you mean to say that you never were stepped' on V" "Oh, no." replied the second. "I didn't lie around on the floor. I was put away .iust as soon as he was done *playing with me. His mother had made him a very orderly little boy." ' "So you never stayed out all night in the hall or in the middle of the sitting room?" "Never," said the spick and span soldier. "And did he shoot at you with his rubber gun ever?" "Never," said the spick and span soldier. "And he didn't bite you to see how soft you were?" "Never," said the spick and span soldier. "Or drag you about among the chairs with a string?" "Never," said the spick and span soldier. "Or sick the terrier on you?" "Never." "Or take you to bed with him and roll on you 7" "Never. I was always placed on the shelf in the closet." "Or kick you or whack you or throw you?" "Never. Watch?I can present arms as well as ever." "Or kiss you and hug you with all his might and cry for you when he was sick through eating too much candy?" "Never. He used to forget me entirely for days and days. Did your boy really do all that to you?" "Yes, all that and more," answered the battered soldier softly. "And did he kiss you, yon say?" asked the spick and span soldier a bit wistfullv. "Yes; be kicked me and be kissed me." laughed the first. "And did you enjoy it?" pursued the econd curiously. "I had the time of my life." declared the other. "How did you find things? up to your expectations?" The spick and span soldier hesitated; then be replied: "Possibly. I can't complain. But? but somehow 1 grew dreadfully ennuicd. 1 almost longed at times for more excitement, more energy. We | got tired of one another. After a day or so we exhausted all our programme' of proper exercises, and he was so cautious of wearing me out that I was laid aside, and?and, finally, here 1 am. 1 don't suppose he even knows thnt T'm frnnp." "Dear me!" reused the other. "I'm i glad my little boy was not like yours. Of course there are the knocks; but. THE YETEEANS MEET. oh. our companionship was sweet! I bet he's crying for rae at this instant, poor chum! Still, it is as well that I ?m carted to the dump. I am old and disfigured and a hack number, and I wanted to go before he would cease to miss me." The spick and span soldier was silent. "Hi. vi!" soliloquized the veteran. | with a #ij?b with a chuckle, atifBy I foiling over on fns back. "I'm past rei pairs, but it was sweet?are. it was worth it! 1 -hare? had?the? time?of ?my?life." And with his *y? fcc 4fazed tUreu?b a chink i* the debris up at the afar*: . v a