THE FIRST CHURCH’S CHRISTMAS BARREL.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 3711, 21 December 1912, Page 18

THE FIRST CHURCH’S CHRISTMAS BARREL.

Those who like a ‘'white Christmas”, should see one on the Western plains, where olcl Mother Earth lies down for her winter sleep under a coverlet so white that from horizon to horizon there is hardly enough;{gray to outline her form. The winds play tricks with her scandalously out there, 'making roundness where no roundness is and doing their best to lay bare her very bones.

• “These winds don’t care a cuss for clothes,” said Bob Toliver, the stage driver, once: and John Haloran had thought of it a thousand times since. He was saying it to himself numbly now as with stiffening fingers and head lowered against the gale ho drove along the faint track of a road. His wife threw open the doors as lie drove up, and a stream of light fell athwart the wagon. There was a barrel in the back. “Dead, John?—or only half?” Her eager eyes searched his face. She knew the whole story without a word. The draft had not come. or have you "one to pedling? AATiat’s in your barrel?” “I don’t know yet,” Tie said heavily, twisting it into the room. “AA’e’ll see when I’ve, fed Daisy.” She eyed the barrel curiously when he was'gone, tilting it and reading aloud: “Rev. John F. Haloran, Blue Lick, Wyoming. “I never saw one before. But my prophetic soul tells me this is a missionary barrel. And two days before Christmas ! Well, in the language of my first-born, ‘Hooray!’” When the minister came in there was a comfortable old coat warmed and waiting for him, and a smoking supper set out on a little table drawn up before the stove.

“Slit down, John. I'm going to let you eat here in peace away from the'children.” He glanced up questioningly as a roar came from the kitchen, with snarls and growls in various keys. “They are wild animals in a cage and lam the keeper. It’ll all right. You had a colddrive.” •’Bitter.”

“You need an ulster with a storm collar.” She glanced involuntarily at the barrel . “Aren't these potatoes good. John? So mealy one hardly needs butter. Lucky thing, too! You didn't know I skimped the family out of a pound of butter, did you? Yes. sir, it went into the candy monev.” She meant it as a pleasantrv. but somehow it failed, and she hurried on. i wish there were more potatoes. Those boys do eat so! But never mind ! After Christmas the hens will begin. Funny how hens can tell the time of the year, isn’t it?” She chattered on about everything except the draft.

“This certainly is comfort,” he said at last, relaxing under the genial influence of warmth and food and companionship.. “That’s a cold st,retch. “Didn't you stop anywhere?” “Yes. At Joe Henderson’s. Alary, his wife died.’’ “■•John !"

“I never F- It so sorrv for anybody in my life. They think the baby will live; and the poor fellow doesn’t know what to do with it nor where to turn.” “Oh. John ! If only our cow weren’t going dry!” “You shouldn't do it anvway,” he said savagely. “You’ve enough care now for x 1 1 roe women. Alary, the draft didn’t come.”

know.” she said quietly. "But. John, we’ll get along some way. It can’t last forever. The draft may come next week. And * was joking about the potatoes. "We’ve a lot left."

“It isn’t just the mnnc’’.” 1m said despondently; “it’s the fueling of loneliness in tli 7 * work. If I f°lt that the eliur-di back of us was doing all it coukl it' would not ho so hard —this ‘hop? deferred.' But sometimes 1 think —they don't care." “They do, John. Don't allow yourself to think that. Look at this barrel. AYoulcL anv church send us that

unless they knew about oiir work and were thinking of us? Tell me about the barrel.”

“AA r ell, I went to the post office the first thing to get the draft. I found instead a letter from this First Church saying they had sent us a barrel. I went over to the freight-office and there it was. I didn’t have ——”

“How providential that it came before Christmas.!” she interrupted. “I’m crazy to see what’s in it Aren’t von ?"

“AVeTI op?n it a while,” he said evasively. In. his heart lie was protesting: “No! I don’t want their barrel! I mant my money!” “Not till' the children are off. There’ll be Christmas things in it. A'ou got the candy, John? But of course you did.”

Her question was unanswered, but she did not notice. “Now I really think the animals will have to come in.” she said gaylv. “A r ou can be trainer for an hour while this keeper clears up the dishes.” And with a whoop they were upon him —lion, tiger, kangaroo and baby bear.

When His children wore asleep they brought put the barrel —“our charity box,” the minister called it, half bitterly.

BY CAROLINE ABBOTT STANLEY

•‘I can’t help it, Jiihh. It.mdy show an'impoverished state of spirit, but when I think or, all the Athinge these children need Tam glad, of this box. I am, ‘charity’:though ygu may call it. I am almost sorry you spent the money for candy. Well, they’d have enough for once! And they are so starved for candy.”

Again he started to speak, but she. siyept on in full tide of happy talk : “Before we open it l want .to shows you'the tilings L already had for them. This overcoat is Paul’s, made out of that old, old one of. yours with the plaid flannel lining. I turned the fuzzy side opt. He thinks it’s fine. And with a nejv one for Paul every overcoat in the Ijjie drops a peg and lands on the next, younger; so everybody has a change ! Then of the pieces of flannel left i made three good mufflers to tie over tlieir little headies when they scud across the prairies. And hero are three pairs of mittens cut from the scraps of the coat. lam so proud of myself over those mittens! I had enough parn for Davie’s, hut —”

“There isn’t one woman in a hundred that could have managed so well” She snuggled up to him. “That pays me —if I needed pay, which I don’t. It vyas a work of love and — well, maybe a little necessity. You told me once that I had a genius for poverty.” “And certainly it lias had no chance to lie dormant,” lie said bitterly. “ I don’t want it to lie dormant. 1 want every power I possess brought out to the utmost. I truly have enjoyed concocting these things out of nothing. Oh, yes, here are their handkerchiefs, lovely ones made from an old gown ! But it will make one thing more. Isn’t it glorious that it doesn’t matter how much or how little children have at Christmas, they enjoy it just the same ? That is, if they have candy. Oh, here are the scrapbook-! I’ve been saving pictures all the year: the blank pages are for ‘our sp-evul artist.’ I wish I had some color-*-;! crayons. Oh, they would love colors-'. 1 crayons! and think, just ten cents!” She was sorry the moment she said it, .for a shadow fell upon his face. “But never mind, John,” she said quickly. “Life isn’t made up of pinks and greens, and neither is happiness. You can have a whole lot of happiness in this world in gray if you only know how ; and I am going to teach the children the secret. Now look at- iry eatables. It’s great fun to make a cookie menagerie with one cutter, and tliat a rabbit. You see, I stuck on a trunk, pull down his ears, round him up a bit, and behold an elephant*! Then when 1 want a camel I give Br'er Rabbit two humps, stretch out his jaws, give him a iab or two almost anywhere, and there’s your camel. And here’s a red apple for each one — a little specked, hut I think they will hold out! 1 did want the oranges, l ut—no. of course you couldn’t .vl'.-'n the draft didn’t come. Anyway. wi:li the candy they won’t-miss the other things. J have the bags all readyred tarletan from a peachbaskot. There’s just one thing I can’t get around. Ido want something in give the rooms a Christmas look. And there is not a tiling here but sagebrush. Well, we will just garnish tin* house with good cheer.” She threw up her head with a gesture habitual to her, and his eyes followed her as she moved about the room putting things away. AY hat a glorious creature she was, accepting poverty and bareness as her portion and yet rising above them regally, throwing herself into his work, her own round of toil, her children’s pleasures, the neighborhood sorrows —all with the same exuberance of interest and prodigality of self! What would lie have been in his work without her, his “missionary coadjutor,” as he on 1 led' her? She "was so overflowing with vitality, so undaunted, so alive. A thrill pased through him at the word alive! Joor Joe Henderson! Suppose H-e covered his eyes and his

lips moved. She w.as on her knees beside him in an instant. “John, what is it? AA’hat are you saying?” . He took her face between his hands and looked into her eyes. “I was saying: ‘Bless the Lord, 0 my soul; and forget not all His benefits.’ ”

Now let’s open the barrel.” The first thing to come out was a woman’s hat-box. For years Mary Haloran had worn a brown felt, trimmed modestly (as became a missionary’s wife) with two quills and a knot of velvet. The quills were placed at varying angles from year to year and the velvet was steamed annually. AVhen. it got past that it was placed under the family iron and “mirrored.” It always looked respectable, but when •Mrs Haloran saw that generous box a swift vision of a black velvet hat with black plumes and a jet buckle—all new at the same'time—r.ose before her.

“J am glad the first tiling is for you.” he said.

They laughed at her efforts to untie it; her fingers were clumsy in her excitement ; but it was open at last. She held up to view an old white Leghorn covered with faded flowers. For one .moment neither of them spoke. TJien

her sense of humor came to the rescue and she burst into hysterical laughter.

Putting cn the hat sho bowed low. “The Reverend Mrs Haloran, missionary coadjutor ! AVell, let’s find something to-go with it!” She found it Am* again her »:i:ging laughter pealed out while John Haloran stood by, the embodiment of outraged dignity. Somebody has said that “for taking us over a trying place a sense of humor is better than the grace of God.” “It is an outrage!” lie said. “It is an outrage, John, I grant it. But it’s funny.”

It is not the purpose to give here the contents of the barrel. It is sufficient to say that hope.died after the first few garments. “That is all/’ said Airs Haloran. “No, here is a dear little suit, just right for Davie. And, John, read this note : “It was mv little boy’s that is gone.’ ” Her overwrought nerves gave way then. “Oil, John,” she cried, her head on his breast, “we have Davie, anyway, if we haven’t got the clothes for him. Poor, poor mother!”

A moment later sho was putting the garments hack. “It is a disappointment,” she said, “but we certainly will lyir let it spoil our Christmas. The things I have will insure the children’s good time. The candy alone would do that. John, get me the candy. I’m going to- fill the bags now —to take away this bad taste.” The moment which John Haloran was dreading had come. “Mary, I didn’t get the candv.” “Didn’t get it?” she echoed blankly. “No. I used the monev to finish paying freight on this barrel.” “John Haloran! A'ou didn’t!” “There was no other way. I hadn’t enough without.” “The children’s candy money!” she said slowly. “Money that i have been hoarding up, five cents at a time, for month’s! AATiv, John, Davie has been praying for candy!” “What could I do, Mary? They wouldn’t let me have it without the money. And I supposed, of course, there would be things in it for the children.” .

“For fifty rents they could have got enough candy to satisfy these children.

and they didn't do it! And for one dollar they could have given them a Christinas that they would never have forgotten. One dollar at the ten-cent store would have got them a book and a toy apiece and two pounds of tencent candy. And our children would have thought that was a glorious Christmas —poor little tads!" She had been speaking slowly and m a low voice. Now she said with sudden anger: “I know the kind of woman that sent these things. They are the ones that go up and down fashionable city streets saying to every acquaintance they meet: ‘Do tell me what to get for my boy He has everything in the world you can think of now!’ And I would lx* satisfied with one dollar for my four! Then alter Christmas they groan: ‘AA’liat shall Ido with all these things?’ And I would lie glad to pick up after mine all Christmas week if they only had something to throw around. There's nothing right or fair about it! Now!”

This mood was so new to him that lie was speechless before it. “This biyrel is going back to them — to-morrow.l To think of their expecting us to pay freight on t-lie wretched thing!” “Marv! You wouldn’t do that!"

“T would and shall! I’m going to give these people one lesson in giving that they won’t forget. A Christmas box for a lot of children out on .the plains and no candy in it! And Davit* praying for candy! AVell, he’s going to have it. I’ll take this barrel back to town to-morrow myself; and when T come back I’ll hare the candy.” “Wife, you k,,ow I would give ve a the money if i had it. But T have two cents in ny pocket! Are you going to ask credit?” “No! lam going to pay money for it good mo i? 7, but I - m going io have it!”

In all their life together he had never seen her like this. He watched he,r with fascinated eyes. Going to the intuit 1 e she took down a box with a slit in the top. It was their missionary bank and was held as sacred from profaning touch as the ark of the .Lord. She was tearing it open. “Mary!” lie’cried, aghast. “Not the misionary money! You wouldn’t take that! ' ‘Will a man rob God?’ ” “I’d roh anybody!” she said, turning upon him like a lioness defending her young. “I’m going to have a Christmas for my children with candy in it if' the heathen —go to perdition !” He saw then that sho was past talking to. II It was aliout two weeks after tins that the pastor of the First Church called a. meeting of the ladies of the congregation to take action about a missionary box. ■ “Another!” groaned several ladies who never contributed. He went on to explain that a barrel sent front the church a few weeks ago had been returned, and then —hot scorning to make appeal to any Godgiven attribute of tho female mind — he added: “Perhaps I should say that, this barrel has been not only returned, but refused. The president of the Missionary Society' requests a full attendance.” , ;

Naturally she got it. Seldom in the annals of the First Church had there been such a meeting.

“Ladies,” the president’s voice broke upon a lively hum, “we are called upon to face a most unprecedented state of affairs. As the meeting today is so much larger than the ■ one that launched this enterprise”—there was marked irony in the implication — “I feel called upon to explain. At our October meeting it was decided to send a’ box to a poor minister’s family in the West, and you wore all urged to contribute as liberally as possible. You will remember that the call was given from the pulpit to the whole church. How you responded to that call wo’shall soon see.” There was a startled movement, quickly controlled, in several quarters.

“I was called from the city in November and placed the packing of the box in the hands of another.” . There was a stir in the second row, but Mrs McArthur raised a protesting hand. - “One moment, please. The barrel was sent out as a Christmas offering from the First Church; not the Missionary Society, mind, you, hut our wealthy 'First Church. It was returned immediately. With it came this letter, which I will read since it concerns you all.”

The president of the Missionary -Society was .generously sharing honors with the church. “This is-’-'from the wife of the missionary to whom the box was sent — Mrs Mary C. Haloran. Ido nor know Mrs Haloran personally, but J am told by a lady of this congregation at whose suggeston the box was sent, that she is a cultivated Christian lady. They have a family of four hoys ranging in age from five to eleven. This I ascertained definitely that there might he no haphazard, misfit giving. I left that paper with one of our members. She looked the assemblage over and a lady rose reluctantly. “Madam President. I am ashamed to acknowledge it, but that paper was never sent to the Society. I simply forgot it.” The president shook her head sadly. “It has placed us in a mortifying position. lam sure Mrs Woodley will pardon me for saying that it exemplifies the old saying:

“Evil is wrought by want of thought As well as by want of heart.” .Mrs Woodley sat down with a very red face. "The evil in this case you will see from Mrs Haloran’s letter, which I will now read:

•‘Dour Madam : •Tli 2 barrel so generously sent by the First Church is received and its contents are carefully noted. I find after prayerful consideration of our wardrobes that we really are not in need of the articles contained in it, and 1 return it thus promptly that it may be used in discharging the obligations of the First Church to some of its other missionaries. If sent to the right place—say to a selfrespecting minister with a wife whose spirit has not been entirely crushed out by the burdens of frontier life-—I should think it might be used several times for this purpose. ‘■'l add a small contribution in the shape of Scripture texts which will enhance the value of your gifts. The home missionary is so accustomed to. subsisting on the Word of God that he may be able to feed on these and he filled. Likewise, they may have the effect to clothe him with the garment of praise. It is perhaps not too much to hope that they may also do good (incidentally) to them that are of the household of faith in the First- Church.. To this end I will ask that they be read to the ladies of your Society while an inventory of the barrel is taken. ‘•'Very sincerely yours. “MARY C. HAL OR AX.”

“A very singular letter!’' commented an obtuse member. “It doesn't tell us whv the barrel was returned.’’

“The barrel will explain itself,” returned the president grimly, “and will also interpret the letter. Vo will do exactly as Mis Haloran requests —take an inventory and listen to the Scripture message. The secretary will read.”

She drew from the barrel the same promising liat-box that we have seen, and the women craned their necks. Black velvet and plumes -flitted through their brains, too, as for one blissful moment they had through the mind of the woman on the plains. Mrs McArthur handed a slip to her assistant and held up to the astonished gaze of her audience —the old Leghorn. “ ‘God loveth a cheerful giver,” read Mrs 'Wellman. There was a burst of laughter m which the donor of the hat joined, but with dry lips.

A second box was drawn out. !t eueited another laugh, somewhat less spontaneous than the first, for it was a. child’s summer hat trimmed with forget-me-nots. “ ‘He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord,” read Airs 'Wellman, adding sareasticallv: “How many loans the Lord needs of this particular variety, ladies. I don’t know; not many, I should think.” “There are others,” said the president, holding up in each hand a man’s dust-grimed straw hat, and the secretary read tellingly:

“ -And the Levite that is within thy gates: thou sbalt not forsake him. There were those who could not resist the grim satire of this, but more faces were indignant than smiling now, and whispers of “Who on earth sent those things ?” passed from one to another. . , “She!” ?.:>.id one. Look at that, will you!” , . , , , It was a relic of the past, a faded pink cloth opera cloak which a border of moth-eaten swan’s-down which sent out over them a feathery cloud at the president’s dett manipulation. " ‘Lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven,” read Mrs Wellman, when the coughing incident to floating down had subsided, “ 'where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal.” They laughed. It was not m human nature not to laugh at that. But a seal-clad woman, in the fourth row, with a face aflame, looked straight at the garment and neither to right nor left. She had thought when she sent it in: “It is a nice piece of cloth, anyway, and people like that always know haw to dye things. Or she can use it for a baby cloak.” It seemed monstrous to her now.

“Madam President,” said an indignant voice, “is there nothing to wear in that barrel?” The president held up two beautiful little winter dresses. “Yes, there are these. And some really nice baby clothes. For Mrs Haloran’s boys! The need of a family census, ladies, is selfevident.” iSlie looked in the direction of the recreant Mrs Woodley, who murmured : “ -'Whereas I was blind, now I see.’”’ “The next is a contribution to the minister himself.” She handed a paper to Mrs Wellman, who read: “ Tf there be ... a jxjor man of one of thy brethren .... thou shalt open thine hand wide unto him and shalt surely lend him sufficient for his need.’ ” "It ought to lee a whole suit for that,” came a stage whisper. The president held up the offering which was to be sufficient for the poor man’s needs. It was a vest! “Old vests!” came-an outraged protest. There was a disposition to lapse into mirth when a second vest was elevated, but it died away as Malaehi’s burning words fell upon their unstopped ears: “ ‘Ye offer polluted bread upon mine altar; and ye say. Wherein have we polluted thee? In that ye say, The table of the Lord is contemptible.’” Before they had fairly caught their breath after this there came another broadside from the same plain-speak-ing prophet. It was brought forth b\~a cloth skirt of good material and not worn, but so spotted and soiled that Mary Haloran, with a longing look at its texture, had hurled it back into the barrel. “•Ye said also. Behold, what a weariness is it! and ye have snuffed at it, saith the Lord of hosts; and ye brought that which was torn, and the lapie, and the sick; thus ye brought an offering: should I accept this of your hand? saith the Lord/ ”

All amusement was now submerged in a rising tide of indignation. The First Church was beginning to realise that it had placed itself in the position of giving a gratuitous insult, which was a shock. for the First Church was well bred, if lacking in missionary zeal. And it was an insult that could not be laid on the narrow shoulders of the Missionary Society. This barrel had been sent, from the whole church- That is so poorly represented them they began to see was their own fault.

The enormity of the insult grew with each new disclosure. The packing had been done at a time when closets were being cleared out for the winter, and their surplus contents had been neatly bundled and dumped into the church barrel. From its depths no.w were brought forth indeed the lame, the halt, and the blind, and with them came texts of Scripture that elucidated the law of sacrifice with startling clearness. It is safe to say that never in the whole -reputable life of the First Church had it listened to so repugnant a sermon delivered in .so few words. And never, never nad its understanding been so open to receive with meekness the engratted word. “ ‘And if ye offer the blind for sacrifice, is it

not evil?’” sounded the accusing voice. “ "and if ye offer the lame and sick, is it not evil? Offer it now unto tliv governor; will he be pleased with thee, or accept thy person.- sait.i the Lord of hosts.’ ” “Ladies. I am glad to say that the text I hold in my hand is the last, said the president. "I will readl it. Mrs Haloran says: 'I send this final word from the Mosaic Law, and I beg that-the First Church may take it as a message from all its representatives in the mission field, and from Him to serve: Thou shalt not oppress an hired servant that is poor and need}. : _ _ At his day thou shalt give liim his -hire, neither shall the eun go down upou it.” Deuteronomy xxiv. 14, 15/ ” , , Before Mrs McArthur had ended. the reading the treasurer was on her feet. “At last, ladies, in my judgment, we have got at the root of the matter. You will find that this minister’s salary has not been paid himnow mark rnv words! And his wife is smarting under a sense of injustice that- tie should try to supply that deficiency with a bundle of rags.” “Well. I should like to know why it hasn't been paid,. ’ sa jd a weLgroomed woman. “What do we have a Board for if it isn't- to attend to such things?” "The Board,” explained the treasurer with alarming succinctness, "is our c.orent for disbursing the- funds of this church—and others. It cannot honestly pay out what we have not paid in. If you really want to know why this man’s salary has not I will read the delinquent list or this church. Is there a call

There was none. The president tapped. "Ladies. I have not finished the note. . Mrs Haloran continues: 'I return the Parrel as sent, with one exception. In it I found a little suit with these words pinned to it a woman in black, who had been listening with strained attention, dropped her . face in her hands—” 'lt was my little boy s that is gone/ I cried over that- little siiir 1 knew what it cost her to send it. And I accept it as from a sister of the blood. May God. bless her and comfort her sad heart.' ” A tearful silence fell upon t-nem then, for, however callous women's hearts may be. there is always one strimr that vibrates at the thought of the little suit no longer needed. “Ladies. I have here another letter from Mrs Haloran written the next dav. She says:

“My dear Madam : •After a night of self-abasement I write to tell you how deeply I regret mv action of yesterday and how gladly I would recall it if I could. 1 cannot yet bring myself to feel that I should have kept the things, but this was an ignoble use to make of the blessed Word of God. and I am filled with sorrow that I should have done it. I will onlv say in palliation that- my husband’s salary has been so long overdue " “That’s it!” exclaimed the treasurer.

•• that we have not been able to sn-end anythine this fall for clothing, for we will not- go in debt. Ve needed everything that is warm, and you can imagine how like a -mockery the barrel seemed to me. Ve had even used the children’s cai'dv money to finish paying the freight.” From all over the house came shocked exclamations of “Oh! Oh!” and “Shame!” ‘What I did was against my husband's earnest entreaties. I know that he was right and I was wrong, but oh. if the church at home could oulv be brought to see that what we

need is not charity but honest pay! “Yours for the cause, “MARY C. HALORAX.” The president- laid the letter down. “Ladies, I never was so humiliated in my life. That our First Church —” "Madam President,” interrupted an incisive voice, “I should' like to know who packed that barrel.” A woman in the second row turned upon her. “I packed that- barrel.” It was as categorical as the question and answer about Cock Robin. “I am willing to take my share of the blame—and no more. I put into that barrel exactiy what was sent in and, as our treasurer bias most justly remarked, a disbursing agent can do no more.” “She might, do less,” interpolated