OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 879, 4 January 1889, Page 5

OUR BOYS & GIRLS.

AN ANGEL IN AN ULSTER. Bt Washington Gladden.) (From St. Nicholas. (Continued.) Music Hall is packed from floor to topmost gallery. On either side of the great organ rise the ranks of the chorus, 800 singers, the orchestra is massed in front; the soloists are just entering to take their places at the left of the conductor. ‘There’s Miss Caryl’ ories Ruby eagerly. Mr Todd points out to the children the other singers whom they do not know, and, while he is speaking, the click of Mr Zerrahn’s baton is heard, the musicians of the orchestra lift their instruments, and the glorious Btrains of the overture burst upon the ears of t e woudering children. But no wise historian will try to tell about this evening’s music, nor how Ruby and Ben enjoy it. More than once, in the rush of the great choruses, Ben finds himself catching his breath, and there is a rosy spot all the while on Ruby'a cheek, and a dazzling brightness in her eye. Mr Todd watches them, momently; he listens, as he said, with their ears as well as his own, and finds his own pleasure trebled by their keen enjoyment.

‘ Oh, Mamma,’ says Ben, as she tucks him injbo bed, ‘it seemed, some of the time, as if I was so full that I couldn’t hold another bit. When Miss Thursby sang that song—you remember, Ruby. What was it.!’ * I know that my Redeemer liveth,” ’ answers Ruby. ‘Yes; that’s the one; —when Bhe sang that, I thought my heart would stop beating.’ .‘But what I liked beat,’ says Ruby, true to her old love, was one Miss Cary sang about the Saviour,He was despised.” ' ‘lt was all very beautiful, I know, my darling, ’ answers the mother ; * but you must forget it now, as soon as you can, for it is late.’ The next morning, Ruby is awakened by the stirring of her mother. ‘Oh, Mamma,’ she says, softly, putting her arms about her mother’s neck, ‘I had a beautiful dream last night, and I must tell it to you before you get up. I dreamed that Miss Thursby was standing on a high rook on the sea shore, singing that sopg, ‘ I know that my Redeemer liveth and when she oame to that part, ‘ln the latter day he shall stand upon the earth,’ I thought that dear Papa rose right up out of the sea, and walked on the water to the shore ; and that Mr Todd took him by the hand and led him up to us ; and just as he flew toward us, and caught you in his arms, I woke up.’ The desolate mother kisses the daughter with tears, but cannot answer. Besides that dream the dark and stern reality is hard to look upon. Yet, somehow, the child's heart clings to the comfort of the dream. Presently her eyes are caught by an unwonted display of colours on a chair beside the bed. ‘ Oh, what are these ?’ she cries, i leaping to her feet.

‘They are yours, my daughter.’ • Look here, Bon ! Where did they come from, Mamma ? M-m-y ! Ob, look 1 look ! And here are yours, Ben !’ By this time the drowsy boy is wide awake, and he pounces with a shout upon the treasures heaped on his own chair, and gathers them into his bed. A book and a nice silk handkerchief for each of the children ; an elegant morocco work-box stocked with all sorts of useful things for Ruby, and a complete little tool-cheat for Ben; the Christmas ‘ St. Nicholas ’ for both, with a receipt for a year’s subscription, and a nice box of sweetmeats to divide between them, these are beautiful and mysterious gifts. ‘ Who brought them, Mamma ?’ they cry, with one voice.

‘Your friend, Mr Todd. He had two packages concealed under his coat, when he came for you last night; and when he rose to go I found them on the floor beside his chair, one marked, ‘ For the Girl, and the other, * For the Boy !’ ” ‘ What makes him do such things ?’ asks Ben, solemnly. * “ Good-will,” I think,’ answeii’3 his mother. ‘He seems to be one of those men of good-will of whom the angels sang.’ ‘Anyhow, I’d like to hug him,’ said the impetuous Ben. * Did he say ho would come and see us again ?’ ‘ Perhaps he will, in the course of the day. He said that he should not return to Maine until the evening train.’ Suddenly Ruby drops her treasures and flings her arms again about her mother’s neck. ‘ You blessed Mamma!’ she cries, tenderly, ‘ you’ve got nothing at all. Why didn’t some of the good-willers think of you ?’ * Perhaps they will, before night,’ answers the mother, speaking cheerfully, and smiling faintly. ' But whether they do or not, it makes the day a great deal happier to me that my children have found so good a friend.’

It is a merry morning with Ruby and Ben. The inspection of their boxes, and the examination of their books, makes the time pass quickly. ‘ Somebody’s moving in the next room,’ says Ben, coming in from an errand. ‘I saw a man carrying in a table and some chairs. Queer time to move, I should think.’ ' They are going to keep Christmas, at any rate,’ said Ruby ; * for I saw them, a little while ago, bringing up a great pile of greens.’ ‘P’r’aps they’ve hired the reindeer-team to move their goods,’ says Ben. * Then,’ answers his mother, * they ought to have come down the chimney instead of up the stairs.’ So they have their little jokes about their new neighbours; but the children have moved once themselves, and they are too polite to make use of the opportunity afforded by moving day to take an inventory of a neighbour’s goods. They are to have a late dinner. The turkey, hankered after by Ben, is not for them to-day ; but a nice chicken is roasting in the oven, and a few oranges and nuts wili give them an unwonted dessert. While they wait for dinner, the children beseech their mother to read to them the Christmas story in the ‘St. Nicholas.’ ‘lt means ho much more when you read,’ says Ben,’ ‘than it does when I read.’ So they gather by the window ; the mother in the arm-chair, on one arm of whioh Ben roosts, with his cheek against his mother’s— Ruby sitting opposite. It is a pretty group, and the face of many a paßßer-by lights up with pleasure as his eye chances to fall upon it. It is now a little past 1 o’olook, and Mr Halibnrton Todd, sauntering forth from his comfortable quarters at Parker’s makes his way along Tremont-street, in the direction of Court. He is going nowhere in particular, but he thinks that a little walk will sharpen his appetite for dinner. When he approaches ScoHay’s-square, his eye lights on a man standing uncertainly upon a corner, and looking wistfully up and down the street. The face has a familiar look, and as he draws a little nearer, Mr Todd makes a sudden rush for the puzzled wayfarer. ‘ Hello, Brad !’ he shouts, grasping the man by the shoulders. ‘Hello !’ the other answers, coolly, drawing bacK a little ; then, rushing forward : .* Bless my eyes ! Is this Hal Todd V * Nobody else, old fellow ! Bat how on earth did I ever know you V Come to look you over, you’re not yourself at all. Fifteen years, isn’t it, since we met ?’ r ‘ All of that,’ Says the stranger. ‘Let's sees you’ve been in the sea-faring line, haven’t you ?’ says Mr Todd. • 'Yes, I have, bad luck to me!’ answers his friend, with a sigh: * Oh, well,.’ says the hearty lumborman, * the folks on shore haven’t all been fortunate. Where’s your home, now ?’ ‘ Just what I’m trying to find out. 1 * What do you mean * My dear fellow,' says the stranger, with quavering voice, *my ship was wrecked a year and a half ago on the west coast of Africa ; I reached the shere, only to fall sick of a fever, through which my cabin-boy nursed me; for a long time I was too weak to move ; finally, by slow stages, we made our way to Benguela ; there we waited months for a vessel, and, to make a long story short, I reached Boston this morning. I went to the house that was mine two years ago, and found it occupied by another family—sold under mortgage, they said. They could hot tell me where I should find ray wife and children. I w6nt to the neighbours who knew them ; some of them had moved away, others were out of town on their Christmas vacation. Of course, I shall find them after a little ; but just where to look at this moment I don’t know.’ (To be continued.)