The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 18, 1898, Page 27

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1898. 800000900009000000 0000000000000 0000 NIGGER BILL’S CHRISTMAS. BY,MARIE ALLEN KIMBAL / (] o (] o (] Q (] IGGER BILL wanted a blank book with big red flowers on it like Henry Mason' There was only one left. He had gome into the drug store to , and if he didn't get 10 cents to- somebod Ise would buy Rill went round to the butcher shop see if Mr. Werry hadn’t left his s at home; he’d given him “a for going after them. But there they were on top of his big no He asked Tommy Briggs if he wouldn’t 10 cents to peddle his coffee n; but he laughed and said y would buy of such a scare- Nigger Bill was a funny looking lit- fellow, a as his name, which he gloried so afraid of be- ing called n. He was a very all boy, with the in- vy black face, bright eyes and teeth of the African, while his , coarse hair showed lis Indian He wore a pair of old boots so much ) big that he 1 to shuffle along, and s 1 that the sleeves end- chool, carr: with v 1d feeling pretty s r of the freight beckoned to him. I'll give you 10 ¢ s note to old Roge Kerrigan gave it to ¥ ick boy expanded Into a broad C VAN right,” he said, joyfully; Johnny, will I cotch it?” i irse not. ng a nts if you'll tell It's from me fter wanting her good used t week to work; and Honor d Jo! ¢ books, may be after ssons of an rich!” And Johnny Kerrigan ) i himself over with laughter. tch me going to his old school the week of the races! And he won't find ut I'm playing truant.” ‘Will he kill me if he does?” asked ger Bill, anxiousi Vo, you scared cat; of course not. sre’'s your money, and I'll be after ng along here for the books to- looked at the little silver hand; his eyes shone. He € ound to the drug store and 1t the blank book. But somehow i on it did not look as red 1s he thought they did. 1t along to school, but he did good. He had to lie to Mr. the principal, of whom he had terror. Rogers, Nigger a morta Bill was con- 1, must be crazy, though he'd never told anybody so; for he had seen e than once cracking open s the old North Star mine, and writing things in a book; and nobody’d : there since Bill could remem- pected, either. Nigger Bill had had one per- xperience with him. thought i he went along. ) Car- his teacher, always smiled when recalled the incident. Eight little boys of them had got into a fuss on the playgrounds and Miss she Carroll said they must remain after school. Mr. Rogers came in. He car- ried a ve long, large stick in his hand (his show switch) and fixed his keen eyes on the trembling little cul- i Then he turned to their teacher nd asked her “if she would have the ss to close all the windows. He yot want their yells to disturb the in stentorian tones, long stick at them: *“Boys, mothers got any sticking s, sir,” came from sixteen DS. k 1l need it when you get home. Do you know what youw'll want it for?” with. Miss er yourselves re presently. will be dark I 77, s © (<] (<} © [+] © © [+] C000000COC000000C0ODO00CCTO0000000CO0D0 “No-0-0, sir,” amid falling tears. “Dark from the flying pieces of your clothes. Take off your coats.” Eight little jackets came off, eight k Ellll(!e forms stood before the al. apart. Give me plenty of room. He stepped back, squared himself, tried the switch two or three times, then hastily pulled out his watch, ‘‘So late! Miss Carroll, I have an en- gagement with a man, I positively have t time to whip these boys. Put on ur jackets, but if I catch you in mis- ief again you'll remember it. Go!” ger Bill had always thought that a aculous escape, and now he was to help lie for Johnny Kerrigan, and a lie Mr. Rogers would not tolerate. He was sure the more he thought about it that he would be killed if he were found out. But he had spent the money and he must do it. Risked all that for a poppy blankbook! He wished he had kept to his old slate. Nigger Bill won- dered if he could get an old geograp! ; the boys said if you cover under your shirt 1ldn’t hurt, only you must holier put a g it wc loud! went along smoothly until -fore Christmas. Then Mrs. Ker- rigan appeared. ‘What is it I'm being asked, her face red with heat and in- dignation, “that you was after excusing me Johnny from school this week, and him blatherskiting around the races, self to death to kape adam, I excused him at your re- Xu?u sent me a note by that col- ? Proud would I be could I write, ver honor, a wurd. It's his lies, and T'll thank ye to give him the tanning he de- serves. T'll see he's here to get it.” Nigger Bill's time of retribution come. roll’; d The principal opened Miss Car- door and stalked in. gger Bill,” he commanded, ‘‘come here.” The boy trembled all over; his teeth chattered. “What did you lie to me for?” “The — the—blankbook—the ot A stammered Bill, the tears rolling down his black cheeks. He was incapable from fright of making any further ex- planation. The teacher struck him a light blow. He shrieked and rolled oV and over the front of the room. Mr. Rogers followed. He gave him an- other, and the boy rolled screaming back again. Then the principal collared the gro- tesque black object covered with chalk dust and tears, and, sitting him down in a chair by his teacher’'s desk, ad- monished him against lylng. That was Nigger Bill's punishment. He sobbed until school was out. When the others were excused Miss Carroll sat down by him; she put her arm around his little threadbare shoul- ders. é know you are very sorry,” she sali “Yes, ma'am; I won't do it again.” “I am so glad, for I am very sorry, and so is Mr. Rogers and somebody else, Jesus. He sees and knows every- thing we do.” Nigger Bill looked around fearfull “Did you know it, dear child?” s went on. “No ma'am, never heard tell of him.” Then she told him the beautiful sto of the cross: of the tender, loving vior; of the little dead girl and the child in_the midst. The boy listened, spellbound. “T like him, ma’am,” he said. “Yes,” his teacher went on, “and there wege men who loved him so that they went about telling other people, and some of them had new names. Now, I am coing to give you a new name. I shall call you Willie for you, to remember that you are Jesus’ little boy and he loves you.” The child went home hugging the happy thought. He was no longer Ni ger Bill; he was Willie, and Jesus loved him. His was a merry Christmas. -EDITED BY DAVID H- WALKER- AN ALASKAN SANTA CLAUS BY REBECCA MOSS. T was Christmas eve at Fort Clar- ence. The short Arctic day was done, if day it may be called when there is no sun, though the won- derful twilight glow lit up the sky with almost day-like brightness. The teacher of the mission school sat at his desk In the little schoolhouse alone, thinking of his loved ones far away in their Eastern home, and he could see them, in fancy, making prep- arations for the morrow’s festival. The teacher had wandered so far away during his reverie that when a slight noise attracted his attention he rcely knew for a moment where he Then he recovered his sense of position and saw standing ir in the half-open door a little girl, one of his smaller scholars. She looked like a picture, standing there framed by the doorway, her tiny form clad in snow-white fur from head to foot. ‘“Well, Reina, what can I do for you?"” asked the teacher in kindly tones. The child came slowly toward him, but there was a look in her bright eyes which showed that she was laboring under some excitement. “Will Santa Claus bring us food to- O000C0000OOO00ONOCOOO0000O000000000000000O00000D000 night?" she asked hurried whisper. For an instant the teacher could not compretend the question. Then he re- membered that for several days he had been relling the children about Christ- , the origin of the day, how it was served by his people, and incident- ally he had spoken of Santa Claus, how he brought pre: ts to the children. “Yes, Reina, said, “Santa Claus will bring you in a low, he something to-night if you are a good girl." The child’s face lit up with a happy glow and she flew from the room as silently as a snowbird. ~ When she was gone the teacher again , but this time he was not in New England; he was in the cold, cheerless Alaskan Territory. He thought of the poor Eskimos—how they had worked in vain during the previous summer to get their su-~ly of food for the winter. Seals had been scarce, thanks to the depredations of the poachers who shot them far out at sea; walrus had been hard to get, while the fell into asreve N\ 2L ZDISY). ORWARD. Hear the drum! Now the Christmas soldiers come. Mary Ann, she is the band, Frank the cannon draws by hand. Tom’s the private. Bose is proud 'Cause to carry the flag he’s ‘lowed. Forward, march! Hear the drum! catch of fish had been smaller than for many years. So the winter came, all too soon, to find the natives ill pre- pared to fight the long, weary time of snow and ice. He hurriedly locked his desk, shut up the schoolroom and went to his quar- ters, where he called his native ser- vant, Ta-ta-rok, and the two had a long consultation, during the first part of which Ta-ta-rok lifted up his hands in expostulation, but presently he, too, became interested, and finally the two went into the storehouse together. A clear Arctic night is far more beau- tiful than the night of warmer climes, the northern heavens glowing for hours after the sun has disappeared with a roseate flush like the twilight of the temperate zones. The stars look like points of white-hot metal thrust through an azure screen, and when the mysterious aurora lights up the north- ern sky with its wonderful incandes- cence man can only gaze with awe at this demonstration of natural force. At midnight on this Christmas eve the Indian village at Port Clarence lay bathed in the white glow of the full moon, the low mounds, looking more like graves than abodes for living crea- tures, barely showing above the level of the snow-covered earth, and but for the glow of the ever-burning lamps one might easily have fancied he beheld a “city of the dead.” through laughing one tee hee! Here are some of larly fond of: Nojoqui, You Bet! ¥ ha, ha! candy—yum, things—hearts full of children—A MAS! get a good child! have done very well. Suddenly there appeared upon the scene, near the mission, a team of six reindeer drawing a sled over the snow, and seated on the sled, which was piled high with bundles, sat old Santa Claus himself, clad in fur robes from head to foot, his eyes only visible between the folds of his foxskin hood. A word to his team and away they sped toward the village. Arriving at the first house, old Chris descended from his seat, took several packages from his sled, and, cautiously approaching the window, he drew aside the skin curtain and dropped ‘the packages in. The noise awakened the inmates and the sound of voices came to him, but he mounted his sled hastily and sped on to the next house, where he again stopped and left his presents. There were sixteen houses in the village, and Santa Claus had al- most completed his round, when sud- denly from the north a wave of light shot across the sky like some huge rocket, and then began a scene such as few white men have ever witnessed, a flery spectacle which held Santa Claus spellbound! Across the northern horizon floods of wavy light surged and swept the sky from west to east, while streams of vapory glow shot out from the great mass, far up toward the zenith. Up and down In graceful curves and un- dulations the streams of brilliant light intermingled like beauteous spirits in a dance. The entranced observer felt an awed ecstacy as he gazed silently upon the lovely scene. It was as If this were the primal Christmas morn. As he returned toward the mission he stopped again at one of the houses and peeped in through the skin window. Old and young were wide awake, their happy voices joined in praise for the kind old Christmas saint who had brought them such acceptable presents, for each child had a little paper sack containing several cubes of sugar, some dried fruit and a dozen raisins, while the older folks had each a small tin can of flour, some hard bread, a pint of rice and a little tea. Strange Christ- mas gifts indeed, but appreciated far more by these simple people than were the costly gifts that mean so little in the perfunctory exchange of civilized life, and as the hooded gazer listened to the happy voices of the poor Eski- mos he felt in his heart that here in- deed was ‘“Peace on earth, good will to men,” and mounting his empty sled he drove to the mission a happier man, in that he had made others happy, and when he went to his couch after he had put his team away it was to dream again of the snowclad hills of New England. Copyright, 1898, by the Western Press Syndicate. = o= ES, my dear children, and there are lots of them. But, my! what a lot of funny names there are on my directory of California. They make me laugh every season, and I hardly get again. Ydalpom, ha, ha! Jacobs Well, ho, ho! Red Dog, Coyote, bow wow! all, whether you live at San Francisco, Angeles, San Diego, San Jose, Santa Barbara, Stockton, Fresno, Santa Rosa, Oakland, Alameda, Rafael, Sausalito—oh. yes, I'll find you all. Hadesville, Skull Flat, Last Chance, Hepsidam, Red = Clover, Valley, Wolf Creek, Paradise, Poverty Hill, Poker Flat, Buhach Switch, Cicero, Butter Springs, Dog Valley, Anti Brandy Flat, Bonny Doon, Acorn Ravine, Apricot, Ahwahnee. Above them all I just love You Bet. You Bet. I love What do you suppose the reindeer did up at Point Barrow last summer? Just lived on ice cream and grew fat! That is why Prancer and Dancer are so frisky. Spect I'll have to hire a driver soon. to be a very small California boy or California_girl, who has traveled in and knows all about Senegambia, Luzon, Abyssinia, Terra del Fuego, Mesopotamia and every other place on earth that has a name hard to pronource. None of you little fellows have been in all those places? Well then, Santa Claus will have to drive his own reindeer and leave you in_your cozy homes with papa and mamma. Ah, yes, the Pioneers must have been have found scores and scores of funny names for towns in California that I can’t begin to tell you about through the | telephone, because I am so busy. What I really am talking through the telephone for is to ask how will you feel one week from this morning? yum—stockings full of things—rooms full of mamas that I wish them and you all—you first, my dear MERRY CHRISTMAS. will be too late, for T wil]l be far away. “Merry Kismus.” i zood children—especially since you have been told that I like good children best! And give them the most presents! And always have their names on my list! I wrote to you all last week and you Whoa! see that my reindeer are getting ready to run away. Good- by until next week. NE HO, HO, HO, HO, 0000000000000 000000C0ON000000000000 THE LUCKY BAG PARTY BY MARY C. SPAULDING. T was such a dainty little pink in- vitation. It read as follows: ‘Alice Gertrude Channing will receive her friends from 4 to 7 o’clock Saturday, December 24.” All the children of Alice’s age' re- cétved an invitation, and were in aflut- ter of excitement. Alice Channing's birthday parties were always very en- joyable, and it was whispered that this Was to be more delightful than usual. “We are to play a fine new game,” Alice confided to her dearest playmate, Mary Griswold, who lived just across the street. “I must not tell you the name of the game, for mamma said we must keep it a secret When the eventful hour for the party arrived, children from all parts of the town went tripping toward Alice's house. All the boys and girls carried bags which contained their party slip- ers. % pAtter the little guests had played several merry games Alice's mother said: “Now, children, let us see how many of you can touch the lucky bag?” “The lucky bag!” exclaimed the children. “Why, what is that?” A mysterious red bag hung all the afternoon in the hall doorway. It was 0000000000000 00000000000000C00000000000000000000000000 (] I ‘have all your names Christmas before I have to begin But I am bound to find you Sacramento, Los Berkeley, San the places my reindeer are particu- Grizzly Gulch, Coffee Bar, Squaw Buttonwillow, Goat Island, Fat, Apricot, Big Humbug, Bend, Badger, Ha, It will have* What! lot a jolly to Drums, airguns, dolls, toys, happiness. Tell your papas and Next Sunday MERRY You have been very And never for- ‘Whoa, there. Excuse me, I XT WEEK! HO, HO! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! C0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 0000000000000 00000D very large and bulky. The children had wondered what it could be, but when Alice led them straight to it, they knew :Jhxs large red object must be the lucky ag. “This bag is filled with some pretty little gifts,” said Alice's mamma. “But you must each earn your prize. Mary, 1 will blindfold you and turn you round three times. Then you must try to touch the lucky bag. Every child who succeeds in touching the bag has a right to take something from it.” What a merry time they had! Mary was so bewildered when her eyes were bandaged that she walked directly away from the lucky bag to the piano. Some of the children exchanged their prizes for others more to their liking. ‘When the lucky ones had all selected a prize from the bag the game was be- gun again and continued until the bag ‘was empty. Just then supper was an- nounced. Mrs. Channing gave each child a little gilded wishbone tied with different-colored ribbons. The boy and girl with ribbons of the same hue were partners at supper and filed into the dining-room together. What a lot of sandwiches and cakes and candies and ices they enjoyed! “It was all lovely,” said the children as they bade Alice and her mother good night, “‘but the best of all was the lucky bag.” HOW AMELIA WON THE DAY BY MARY KERNS, O, we cannot have a Christmas dinner or Christmas tree, or any other thing like people have on Christmas. We are too wretched poor. Just bread and potatoes, and some old smoked meat that we have every day. Christmas or any other time there is no change with us. I do wish I had not been born in such a place,” grumbled out Lottie Vane. “We should be thankful for that, my dear,” said Mrs. Vane, a middle-aged Vil \‘ WA f7ockmi ¢-~ SIELEN PIHAW - SONOSIA . HEN the wind roars down the chimney And howis around the eaves, When the storm is at its highest And no chance for echo leave Then we gather 'round the fir place, In the gloom the shadows weave, And forget the cold around us, Telling stories Chistmas Eve. For we are four, well filled stockings, Plump and ready for the dawn, The youngsters will run and seize us The first thing on Christmas morn. And we have a wondrous cargo— Nuts and raisins, horses, men, And we hold them all so nicely, And a house, and cart and hen. That doll there is for Miss Polly, Hasn't she the softest haiut? And the gown is of real satin— Quite a grand, Parisian air. She was 'fraid she’d crush her dresses, So we let her stay outside, And she sits there on the mantel, Looking like a Marquis’ bride. Now we'll tell what is within us, As our custom's always been, And as I'm the oldest stocking, Without argue I'll begin: I belong to Master Alfred, And I hold a top and ball, And a gun and several marbles, And a Knife, and soldier tall. Then the cracks are filled with candy, Oranges and apples, too, And from out the very toe, Nuts and raisins peeping through. Now speak up, voung Freddie’s stocking, Tell us what you're hiding there; t must be a zoo or circus, For I think I see a bear. No, my friend, you're ttulle mistaken— Perhaps because of falling sight— For you don’t know hair from feathers When it is a little light. 'Tis a hen that bravely cackles ‘When you squeeze her very hard. Here you see are the directions Printed on a yellow card. Then I've here a cart and horses And a house they call an ark, And_ a cap, and flag, and pencil To draw pictures in the park. Then, of course, there's nuts and candies, And an orange, and a ball, With an apple and some popcorn— Let me see, I guess that’s all. I belong to Mistress Polly, And I hold a kitchen tin; Every pan and every kettle Is as neat as any pin. There are oranges and candy, And a ring of solid gold, . And a book of fairy stories— Nicest stories e'er were told. Now thera comes the baby’s stocking, Scarce as long as your own hand, Heaven bless the little fellow! Must_have come from fairy land. And he has a rubber dolly, That he surely cannot break, And a book of toughest texture, Strongest ever they could make. But he'll have no nuts or candy Till we come again next year; Then we'll see that he has plenty— Heaven bless the little dear! A DANCE IN A TOY SHOP BY MINNIE BRADLEY, San' Francisco. T was the week before Christmas, and the dolls in the toy shop played together all night. The biggest one was from Paris. One night she said: “We ought to have a party before Santa Claus carries us away to the little girls. I can dunce, and I will show you how.” “I can dance myself, if you will pull a string,” said a “Jim Crow” doll. “What shall we have for supper?” piped a little boy in a sailor suit. He was always thinking about eating. “I can get the supper,” added a big rag doll. The other dolls had never liked her. But they thanked her now. She gave French names to everything she made and made it taste better. Old Mother Hubbard was there, and she said the rag doll did not know how to *cook anything. They danced in one of the great shop windows. They opened a toy piano and a singing doll played and sang “All Coons Look Alike to Me.” This_the black doll did not seem to like. Then they wound up a music box G A G ERE are di.ections for the solution of the cross puzzle published last week, which was originated by Mr. Thomsen of this city. Size of paper one inch longer than wide, Fold the bottom over to a one inch from ithe top. and then crease at the fold. Ering the sides together from right to left and make a fold lengthwise through the middle. this fold being just one inch deep. Take the lower right hand corner and double it over to form Fig. A, the space at the top ‘not included in Now double the paper twice, evenly to make it conform to Fig. B. Take your scissors and cut through the middle, lengthwise. and you will hve ell the geometrical figures, in one cut, necessary 1o maske the cross, foundation stones, clubs and dice. As each child is allowed to make three attempts, Mary touched the mantel the next time; and the third time she walked straight to the lucky bag. Grace Farnsworth was more success- ful, and touched the bag the first time It was really very exciting! The chil- dren laughed and clapped their hands with joy. After each child had suc- ceeded in touching the lucky bag, it was opened, and they were given a chance at its contents. Frank Briggs, the big boy of the party, drew out a small doll dressed in long clothes and a muslin cap. A bright tin whistle was the prize of Jessie Cameron, a quiet girl who never ' made a noise. Sam Bruce drew a handsome little needle case and thimble. It was very funny and danced by that. They had supper on one of the counters. The rag doll placed some boxes for tables and the supper was of candy, for there was nothing else in the shop. Patsy Mc- Quirk said he could not eat candy. He wanted to know what kind of a supper it was without potatoes. v He got very angry, put his hands into his pockets and smoked his pipe. The smoke made the ladies sick and they all tried to climb in a horn of plenty to get out of the way. The next morn- ing a little girl found the toy piano open. She was sure the dolls had been playing on it. The grown-up people thought it had been left open the night before. But they do not understand dolls as well as little people do. woman, with a worried look showing on her kind face. “Many children would be glad to have this and be very thank- ful.” “I declare, we must be the worst-off family in the neighborhood,” said Fred in a jest at Lottie’s wrinkled brow. “Oh, I know we have nothing, and never will,” answered the grumbling Lottie, as she walked away from the table. Amelia, the oldest of the two girls, saild nothing, but her brain was busy working out some plan, as she looked at her mother’s careworn face. After the meal was through with Mrs. Vane put on her cloak and bonnet, and started down the village to do the week’s mending for an old woman. who could not very well see. “Oh, Lottie, come here, and Fred, you too,” said Amelia, as soon as her moth- er had got out of earshot. “I have a fine plan, and am sure I can carry it through, if you will help me.” “Well, let us hear it,” said Fred. “I will do anything I can to help you.” “It is useless if money has anything to do with it,” said Lottie, puckering up her lip. “Wait till I tell you, and then you shall see. We all know how anxious mother is to have a nice Christmas for us, but we all know, too, how impossi- ble it is for her to buy without money, or the means of obtaining any. So I propose to surprise her, and give her a model Christmas without her know- ing a word about it.” “You need not talk so foolishly, Ame- lia. Just a moment ago you said, ‘Of course, we could not get things without money.” " “Stay!” *cried Amelia, with a merry twinkle in her eye. ‘“We can all work for a while, until we make enough money without mother knowing it.” Then she unfolded to them her plan, how they could run errands, cut wood, do mending and many other little things while their mother was away. “Excellent! excellent!” said Fred, after she had finished. *I shall start out for a job this very minute.” “Well, go on,” said Lottie; “if you see any use, I don’t.” So for two weeks Fred and Amelia went every day doing various little things for people, and always returning home before their mother arrived there. And the day before Christmas Amelia stayed home, and what fun they had making pies and custards, and fixing all kinds of fruit. Christmas morning Mrs. Vane had to go for a few hours to help prepare the dinner for some rich lady. Just before the time for her return Amelia and Lottie set the table with the snowy cloth, put on the dishes, laden with so many good things, and Fred brought in another huge log for the fireplace to make it look more cheerful. Then they sat down and waited for her to come. Soon they heard the familiar foot- steps and saw Mrs. Vane open the door and walk in. You may think how she looked, without the description, when she had been expecting the same small meal, and then to see the heavy-laden table. She stood still for some time, then kissed the three. After dinner the children had another surprise for their. mother, a handsome present and, what do you think? Some one had heard what they had done and the next day sent gifts to them all. Lottie has not d;;rumbled ‘once since that Christmas day. "