Trifles for the Christmas Holidays | Page 4

like good wine or bad butter, must be strengthening
by age.
"Why can't we take things quietly, as we did when we were boys? I
expect I had a rather comfortable time of it then, though I did get
whipped for tearing my clothes, and killing flies, which I used to do
worse than any bald hornet.
"Now, that youngster walking before me is whistling like a lark, and,
by the Lord Harry, he has scarcely a shoe to his foot!"
He was a poor boy, perhaps seven or eight years old. His face was pale
and careworn, and though he whistled, it was a solemn kind of whistle,
that sounded more like a lamentation than the outburst of childish
gladness. His clothes were too thin and worn for his slight frame, for
the morning, though clear and bright, was frosty, and his little bare toes
peeping out of his shoes were blue with the cold. He hurried through
the streets with a bundle of papers, but, even while intent on their sale,
he had the walk of an old man, and his small shoulders stooped as
though they bent under the weight of years.
Redfield eyed him narrowly.
"Paper, sir?"
"So, in this frenzied struggle after bread, you are an itinerant vendor of
periodical literature?"

"You mean I sell papers, sir? Yes. I've only been at it three weeks. I'm
'stuck' this morning. Haven't got a good beat yet. Paper, sir?"
"Have you no fears of risking your commercial character by appearing
on the streets in that unheard-of dress?"
The boy reddened.
"I've been sick," said he, at length, "for a very long time."
"My Lord!" groaned the philosopher; "here's another conspiracy against
my unfortunate pocket-book! Why don't your mother take care of
you?"
"She did, sir; but she sews for slop-shops, and has worked so much at
night that she's almost blind."
"Worse and worse! and here's an outfitting establishment just across the
street. When will I acquire anything like habits of prudence? Boy," said
he, fiercely, "you are a young vagabond, and deserve to starve. Your
mother should be put in the pillory for ever marrying. That's what the
world says,--and what I would think, if I wasn't a consummate ass.
Were you ever blessed with a view of the most unmitigated simpleton
the sun ever shone upon? Look at me! Look good: I am worthy of a
close inspection. Now come along, and see to what extent my folly
sometimes carries me."
He caught the boy roughly by the arm, jerked rather than led him across
the street, and thrust him bodily among a crowd of astonished clerks
who stood at the door of a clothing-house.
"Take this young vagrant and put him into new boots, with woolen
socks, some kind of a gray jacket and trowsers, and a hat that's fit for a
civilized age."
Seeing that Redfield was really in earnest, the proprietor obeyed the
order promptly, and in half an hour the boy reappeared, rather red, a
little uncertain, but decidedly altered for the better.

"Now go," cried the cynic, with a smile, and a shake of his hand, "and
thank your stars the fool-killer did not come along before you."
"Nineteen dollars and a half! Bless me! what am I coming to? It may be
laying up treasures in heaven; but, by Jove, I had rather see it than hear
tell of it."
The Refrain.
It certainly was the dreariest 24th of December an unhappy boy ever
had the misery of witnessing. In a vain endeavor to get up an
excitement, I expended my last fire-cracker; but the continuous drizzle
drowned out every one. It was only four o'clock, and yet the fog hung
like a pall over the windows, and the gas-men were lighting the lamps
in the street. My mother, and an old schoolmate, Mrs. Mary Morton,
adjourned to the privacy of her bedroom; and, a pet navigation
enterprise, conducted in the gutter, having resulted in shipwreck and a
severe sore throat, I also was permitted to enjoy its cosey quiet. John
Redfield came in as the evening advanced. He had been sick; and my
mother, wheeling the lounge near the fire, made him lie down and have
something warm to drink. He and Mrs. Morton were intimate with the
family from my earliest recollection.
The four, in their childhood, lived near each other, among the
picturesque hills of Western Pennsylvania. They went to the same
school, played in the same woods, and now, in mature life, retained the
warm regard of the days gone by. I say four; for Mr. Redfield had a
sister,--Mrs. Hague, a pale, lovely little lady, who at one time visited
my mother very often. There had been some estrangement between her
and her brother, the particulars