The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 18, 1898, Page 4

ENERAL SHERMAN President Lincoln with the city of Savannah on Christmas. Other deeds of national and religious significance occurred on that éay. The spirit of Christ- vades every status of life. The deeds which live are th and d not by sentiment but for their chil- 1g power to the presented ars I see in the t and the t deed. f God but t embodiment of serious mind should in the world on this at of the highest e and idea place of he best deed d, ho 1ig 168t g« T DAYLIGHT on Christmas morning, 1862, the Army of the Cumberland Ko € d marched south from over the Nolanville and ro pike, to engage the Army of Bragsg, in hard-fought batile on the MAJOR B bt A the advance lines of Bragg's army i varying success New Year's morning (1863), however, g crowned the effc n forces, the brigade he late General John F. Miller hoisted the Stars and Stripes over rfreesboro. he way, afterward came out here to California, autiful home, which he called “Lavergne” in near Napa Springs, most ably represented this Senate. v men were glain du e of the fact that eatly in the v detour in our fear and destroy e hich we had v 56 ing those bioody days, but attle the Confederate cavalry cd our commissary stores, in lutely nothing to eat during the asting. soNoP me which is us I was captain of ‘ourth Michigan Cavalry-—a regiment which came out of the war with a record of ninety-one battles and ended its exploits with the capture of Jefferson Davis—and my boys were fortunate ugh to fi somae corn cribs which had not been For three s we had one ear of hard ‘‘horse-tooth” corn apiece, and o e water polluted with dead bodies of men and animals to ar ut we lived through it and fought through it when that fla =nt up over that courthouse on New Year's wd felt that our Christmas had been a glorious one in spite of and that ours v the best Christmas story that could be told. it CAN only think of a little Christmas story which seemed to me very pathetic since it so exemplified “She hath done what ehe could.” Munich, where 1 passed my student s, has a rather peculiar system of medical assistance for the poor. > town Is divided into districts, each of which has a central station v resident pr Word sent there of illness or accident 1t an advance udent to the sufferer at once. Were the case gerious the professor was also summoned, but in any event the poor and the or. were gratuitously treated at their homes, 1 students practical knowledge which was of great assist- ance yeginning of their careers. noned to an old Baroness who was in the last 'n and in bitter poverty. 1 did what I could to d formed a genuine attachment for her, since v by title, but one by birth and breeding. There her, but 1 did my best to cheer and comfort ike me cordlally. still kept about and was, as often happens in One day I w of cons her suffe; s not only o hope of curin nd she grew to a8 she w such chses, always buoyant and hopeful, with no realization of her true state, though I knew that she was very near to death. Christmas eve I went to an all-night ball, and aithough it came on to storm during the night I determined, ag I went home in the morning, to call in and see my old patient and give her a Christmas 2. A was glad to see me, but horrified at my imprudence in going about in dancing pumps in such weather. She scolded me in motherly fashi then absolutely made me remove my shoes and socks and ary my feet while she rummaged In a huge old chest, from which she resurrected a bundle of knit white yarn stockings. hey were the Baron's,” she sald tearfully. “I knit them myself, héy are ail 1 have left to remember him by—all else I have sold.” d she made me put a pair on my feet while she dried my shoes, and t me home dry-shod &and comfortable. T died, quite suddenly but peacefully, and they f a little holographic which she had made at the last moment, in which, after saying that her few other Jal belongings should be sold to pay her small debis and bury <hie decreed that I, “the kind young doctor,” should have “the Jaron's woolen stockinzs as a Christmas gift.” 1 detest woolen stockings, but I kept those for years, since they geemed to me to have a gpecial value. They -ere ali she had to give \et dearest Po ioh—and out of purest gratitude she gave hem to “the kind young duflf;r," who .haa but done his duty. HE best Christmas stoty that I ever heard, which had any connection with Antist, myself, was told by a gruff-voiced, | | grim-visaged, rather shabby-looking old gentleman who certalnly impressed me at first sight as being about the last person in the world to tell a good gtorv of ¢ kind. It happened in days gone by when I was younger than I am now, nd not €0 embarrassingly wealthy as I hcve grown during the years that have passed since. I was the lessee of a studio and the owner o gome canvas and paints and a goodly array of pictures finished and unfinished, but my stockK of ready money was not by any means as lar s I deemed @esirable, in point of fact it was most unpleasantly sm; and was growing more so daily. felt particularly under the weather, ¥ remember, on Christmas WILLIAM KEITH, day, but went to work as usual, thinking to forget my troubles in the interest of my occuipation. 1 usually put n my time to good purpose on holidays, as I rarely have many visitors, but on this particular occasion I had painted but a little while when the old gentleman pre- viously mentioned made his appearance and went moving around among the pictures as if he had the day on his hands and didn't kn how to get rid of it else here.’ I didn’t pay much attentlon to him, for I was doing some little mental arithmetic between the strokes of my brush as 1o the purchasing possibilities of a certain limited number of dollars and < ntg, and wondering vaguely how I should manage to increase that numb S0 he poked about as he liked until at last he came to & sta ill before a picture which I thought pretty well of myself. And then he told me the story. It was simply this: *“I like this Plt{rurl’"’ said he “and I want it.” And then he asked: ‘“What is the price?” 1 was staggered for an Instant, but soon I found that he was in earnest and in spite of his appearance had the money to buy a dozen ) | 2 t Btory N Ny d SWeND o pictures, if he wanted to, and not know the difference, <nd presently we arranged matters satisfactorily to both parties. . The price I received for that picture has made me always remem- ber that Christmas day pleasantly, and ‘hink that old man’s brief statement of facts the best Chrismad story that I ever heard. e T NTO a home of wealth In this city was brought one day an orphan babe. A daughter of that home, while “Kinder- gartening,” found the mother dying and soothed her by the assurance that her child should be cared for. The young ladies became nursegirls, and the unconscious little waif will be clothe¢ and educated and trained in womanly ways, as if born to affluence, and mercy, as of old, will be “twice blessed. I do not think that this occurred on Christmas day. No matter, it occurred, and the spirit of Christmas was in it. Noble deeds do not wait for the coming of traditional Saints’ day. “The better the ¢ the better the deed” is a saying not true. No time is holy time as human lives make it 80, and Friday is an “unlucky day” on the superstitions of ignorance. It is not the grand deeds so much as the good deeds that beautify life—the thousand little acts of kindness and love and self-devotion. The glory of Christmas day i3 that a spirit of “otherness” has entered the world. It is full of sug- gestions of love, and courtesy, and peace. It is abused when wealth flaunts its gifts, or seifilshness spreads, hoping for something in return. Ite spirit is instulted by an appearance of generosity and all prete of friéndship—a grumbling concession to custom where no love is felt. The saving of the poor for weeks that a gift may be bestowed; the gelf-denial of love that another life may be bri~htened; the laughter that for a time forgets care; the charity of hand and heart; the benevolence that gives the poor for one day a hint of plenty and the human interest that glints with sunshine the gray skieg of the despair- ing—this is the true spirit of ‘(:hrlftma‘s day. ! A J. WELLS, DD, ‘ Second Unitarian Church, PR S MARK THALL, Alcazar. HE Christmas deed which has always ‘ seemed the best to me is cne of which I was the object when I was a little girl many years ago. I say “girl” ad- visedly for the reason that I struck out for myself when I was 8 years old, ran away from home and joined Wilson's circus, and for two years and more masqueraded in ringlets and petticoats and was thought by all our audiences to be one of the “cutest” and cleverest bits of youthful femininity that had ever been seen under a circus tent. I took readily to the trapeze business and bareback riding, and enjoyed the wandering life immensely until cold weather came. It wasn't so very cold, of course, for we were on the Southern circuit, but it was raining and kind of desolate, and along ) ORI P— . toward Christmas I began to feel a littie homesick. The day before Christmas we gave a show in a good-sized town, and the wife of one of the town officials took a fancy to explore the whole outfit between the afternoon and evening performances. She came with her husband and the manager into the tent where I was washing up, and seemed to take a great interest in me, asking me all manner of questions about myself and circus life generally. Finally she asked where I slept, and she nearly fainted when 1 told her what was the truth—that I hadn’t slept in a bed for over a year, but bunked up on top of the lions’ cage every night, rolled up in blankets. That night after the show that lady borrowed me of the manager, and she had me take 2 warm bath and gave me a clean ruffled night- gown miles too big for me, and put me into the biggest, softest, whitest, nicest-smelling bed I ever saw before or since, where I slept like a top, and never thought to feel lonesome because there were no lions snarling and thrashing about under me. And the next morning there was a great big stocking full of toys hanging up egainst the chimney for me, with nuts and candies and oranges enough lying around to last all the juvenile department of our circus for a week. - ‘And I thought then, and have thought ever since, that that Christ- mas deed, done by a kind-hearted woman to a homeless little child, was the very best one I ever heard of. TR T HAS always seemed to me that the Christmas deeds, as related to me, of the once widely known “Jim” Fisk of New York h . in them as much of the true Christmas spirit as 1s éver found in the bestowal of gifts during tHat season. ¥ Fisk, as every one knows, was an extremely rough and gruff man when in his business office, but underneath that unpleasing exterfor, and in spite of his many serious faults of character, he had one of the warmest and most charitable hearts that ever beat for all who J. R. DANFORTH, Deputy County Clerk. FEERIUIPRSERER . Christma cer heards ° d < S :f 2] < R D56 S S.ND% N ) 3, were really poor and suffering. He had a cordial contempt for all forms of organized or ‘“cut and dried” charity, and he never encour- aged chronic beggars to confide to him their tales of woe. He had, however, a system of his own for separating the wheat from the chaff in cases of” distress which were reported to him, and no one who was really suffering ever failed to get at least a little assistance from him, after he had assured himself of their condition. But it was at Christmas time that he went into the business of alms-giving, or, as he preferred to call it—"gift-giving” on a wholesale scale. During the year ne kept a record of all the cases that came under his noti_e, and on the day before Christmas every poor family and every indigent widow on his list receised from him a ton of coal and « barrel of flour. This was his regular “gift,” and it took hundreds of them to go around, but added to this in special cases was a big basket of groceries and a selection of new garments suited to the freezing winters of that locality. No fuss was ever made about this in the newspapers. There was no “spreaa’ and no public presentations to advertise the donor and humiliate the recipient, and personal thanks always made the giver angry. When Jim Figk died, however, the most sincere mourning for him was in th. hearts of the poor he had so long befriended, and every Christmastide for years the story of his past kindness was told with tears in many wretched homes.. 3 O MY mind the best deeds are those which are kind and helpful to unfor- tunate creatures who are unable to defend or care for themselves. One of the best deeds that I ever saw done on Christmas was the following: 5 A lady who happened to be out on a neighborly errand last Christ- mas day in a hilly street near the Twin Peaks saw two boys running down the steep incline dragging behind them something attached to a rope. She thought at first that the something was a bundle of rags, but as they drew nearer she saw that it was a dog—a dead one, she supposed, seeing the inanimate body hitting against all obstructions and bounding into the air with the force of the /mpact. The sight was most unpleasing and became worse when. as they passed her, she saw a feeble movement of the poor beast’s bruised limbs and real- ized that it was still alive. Forgetting conventionalities, she ran after the youthful torturers, and by threats of arrest forced them to stop. Then she obliged them to cut the rope with which the dog was well- nigh strangled, bring water and pour it over its swollen head, and finally carry it to her home, where she restored it to consciousness. Perhaps really the pest part of this simple story is that before this good Samaritan suffered those two boys to depart she so gently and sweetly convinced them of their wrong-doing that they promised never again te be gullty of such crueity, and they have kent that promise for the whole year, while the dog—plump and happy—has fnnznltten how near he came to dcath by torture last Christmas morning. C. F. HOLBROOK, Secretary Society for Pravention of Cruelty 1o Animals. WolSlgis e AITH is a wonderful factor in the sum of human life, and this was exempli- fied to me several years ago by means of what has always seemed to me one of the best Christmas deeds I ever heard of, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews at that time were conducting a mission, with which I afterward became connected, on Pacific street near Stockton, and one evening they gave out this notice: “There is to be ;1 glrstx;d Christmas dinner here on Christmas day, and you are all nvited.” 1 know how noorly their larder was supplied, and I marveled at their action in giving out such an invitation, but said nothing to them on the subject, of tourse, nor indeed to any one else. At that time Mr. Dan Cook lived on what is known as “Nob Hill"” and I was a frequent visitor at his great white mansion. One evening siortly be- fore Christmas Mrs. Cook sent for me, and receiving me in the recep- tlon-room near the dining hall, came toward me gmiling. “Hold out your hands,” said she, and I obeyed. On one palm she laid two broad twenty-dollar gold pieces, and a like sum on the other. “This is from Mr. Cook,” she sald, “forty for yourself and family and forty to be put elsewhere where it will do the most good.” Straightway I went to Mrs. Matthews. “What have you done concerning the big dinner?” I asked. “lr;ot‘hlnn. brother; we have a ham promised. ‘The Lord will provide. * 1 showed her what Mrs. Cook had entrusted to me, and although it was 10 p. m. we went at once to several stores on Stockton street near Montgomery avenue. Three large baskets were filled with pro- visions and with the assistance of a policeman carried to the Pacific- street mission. Mr. Matthews, an invalid, was aroused from sleep, and we had a prayer meeting at midnight—a thanksgiving service over the three full baskets. It was a moonlight night. At 1l a m., X REV. WILLIAM TUBB, Bethlehom Cong | Church. with a warmth of heart not to be described, I returned to my home, knowing that a weight had been lifted from the minds of two wcrt?}.\' but impecunious philanthropists, and that Mr. Cook and his truly charitable wife had prospectively made many the richer by their generosity. The memory of that Christmas dinner will remain green while I live. Dan Cook is no more, but high above his gift may be remembered. That dinner was indeed a grand affair, and -ince then I have believed fully that under all circumstances surely the “Lord will provide.” vite e HE Christmas deed that made me the happlest was, I think, the following: About sixteen years ago I took into my care a poor iittle crippled boy. He was only one among the many whom I have tried to shield and shelter when there seemed no other place in the world for them, but I always felt for him an especlal affection and pity because of the physical aflliction which made it fmpossible for him ever to mingle with the world upon an equal footing. He was always a good boy, whling to help wl(l’, the children smaller than himself, and do what he could to make life in the Shelter- ing Arms better and brighter. I grew to love him very degirly, and many a night'I spent hours thinking and planning about his future, for I could not give him the education I longed to, and when it came to supporting himself by manual labor I felt ‘that he would have a very poor chance with others who were stronger and better able to make their way in the world. One day, however, a new building was begun on Market street, and as I watched it growing nearer completion a thought occurred to me. Shortly before Christmas I went to the owner’s office and sent in my name. Five minutes afterward I was admitted to the presence of one of the wealthiest men in our State, and he received me as court- eously and kindly as if I had been a princess of the blood. 1 told him the simple little story of the poor, deserted, crippled little boy whom I had adopted, and asked him if he would not give him a chance to earn his living in that fine new building. I knew he would be faithful and trustworthy, and tr millionaire believed me when I said so. “He shall have the place,” he said decidedly, “on Christmas day,” and I thanked him from my heart. As soon as the Emma Spreckels, building was completed my boy went there to work. His salary is generous and he is treated well by every one. FEach month he ig enabléd to lay aside a part of his earn- ings for less fortunate days which may come, and he has grown manly, independent and strong of heart, feeling that he is earning his own way and doing his duty. I shall always feel that in giving my boy the place that has proved so beneficial to him Claus Spreckels did one of the best Christmas deeds 1 ever heard of. . s HE funniest Christmas story that I ever heard was told me by poor ‘“Uncle Dave” shortly after the war; i at least it seemed very funny to me ~———————————— then, taken in conjunction with surrounding circumstances. Dave was a negro of powerful physique, a great bully and fighter among his fellow negroes, and very impudent on occasion to white people, even while he was a slave. For years he ran the ferry-boat across the Alabama River at Cahaba, and even after he became a freedman his old master employed him at the same business, since there was no other darkey around there who could do it as well. He was more ingolent than ever after he was free, and used always to refuse to take people across the river after dark unless he counted them special friends or they paid him extra. One day shortly after Christmas I had occasion to cross and dur- ing the trip Dave told me his mournful story. “I'se been havin’ a po'ful heap o troubie wiv de Freedman's Bureau,” he said, “an’ it come about dis yere way: One night a man he comes and hollers fer me ter fotch him ober, but I wouldn’t. Den he gets ructious an’ says things, 'n I cuss him back good; 'n then he Jets on he's Cap. Gard'ner of the Freedman's Bureau, 'n cos I'se got respect fer de bureau den I went over an’ fotch him, -iraigh. agin my princerbles. That didn’t smoov him down none, dough, an’ the bery next day—'n dat was Christmas—he sent two soldiers on hors'- back fer me wiv baynets, 'n guns, 'n pistols'n all kinds of deadning weapons, an’ dey marched me betweenst 'em ten miles to Selma. Den dey tuk me inter a big room where dere was twenty s ldiers, 'n dey spread out a blanket an’ put me on it, 'n frcwed me up 'n slat me down till I was mighty nigh dead, 'n my tongue was hangin’ out wuss'n a dog’s. Den they stood me up on two bricks sot edgeways, 'n tled my thumbs ter de wall, 'n den knocked de bricks away 'n leff me on my tiptoes, and’ dey kep me dere, ‘to larn me manners,’ dey said, till de doctor dey had around dere tole 'em to quit. “Dat’s de way I spent my Christmas, Mar’s Willyum—'n de Freed- man’s Bureau 'n I ain’t fren’s no mo’. I ain’t got no more use fer bureaus of no kine, an’ after dis I ain’t gwine to have nothing of de kine aroun’ me—I sets all my tzishe_s nn’. things on de flo’ fust!” SISTER jULIA, Sheitering Arms, WILLIAM CRAIG. Y STORY sounds like conventional fiction, but it is strictly true. It was told me by the chief actor therein, and to me it proves—if proof were needed—the power and the dlessing of faith. A few years ago a widow, wiho was trying, here m §an Francisco, to support herself and four little ones by her own unaided exertions found herself, as Christmas day approached, possessed of only enough money to pay the rent of her humble home. Her landlord was very strict, and the rent was due on the 26th. Her business was plain sewing, but there was little of that to be done at holiday times, and, alhough she could ask a few dimes’ credit for absolutely necessary food, she could think of no way in which to secure an extra dollar or 50 for her children’s Christmas. Taking her oldest child of 9 years into hengtonfidence, she told her that Santa Claus, who had been good to them in the past, this year would not have enough toys and candies to go around and so her little family must go without, and she asked her to tell and com- fort her little sister and brothers. While the mother was crying silently over her work she heard the child in the next room breaking the unwelcome news, but she adaed thereto: “God's bigger than Santa Claus and He can make him come! Let’s us all pray just as hard as we can and I know God won’t let him sneak by.” Down on their knees the four went, and prayed with all their baby hearts, and the mother, hearing it all, stopped crying and made up her mind to have as much faith in her Maker as her little child had. * * The rent money went for Christtnas cheer, and the mother put aside her forebodings and enjoyed the day with her children. ' dea el MME, LOUISE SORBIER. Pres. Women's Educational and Industaal Union. 1 O every mother that Christmas story is sweetest of which her little ones were a part. The one which seems best to me is this: When my oldest boy was just old enough to be called a boy instead of a baby we lived in the Sierras, and the day before Christ- mas was a day of heavy snowstorm which made the house a prison for us all. ‘We had made preparations for the stocking fllling and the storm did not trouble us until our boy, having time for reflection, suddenly bethought him that he wanted nothing so much in all the world as a red wagon and a knife for his Christmas presents. Full of childish faith he borrowed a gencu and covered several scraps of paper with the little saw-teeth by which Santa Claus was supposed to be in- formed of his wishes and sent them floating up the chimney on the $moke of the big open fire before which he sat. 1 was in despair, for those two articles had never been thought of in our plans for his pleasure, and it was quite impossible, because of the storm, to go to town and repair the omission. I feared my boy’'s faith in the good Saint would be altogether shattered, but while I was putting my little ones to bed later I was told that an old gentleman wished to see me in the hall. It was a neighbor, who had buried a little grandson on Thanksgiving day. “Oh!” safd he, with_tearful eyes, “I was going to buy my Bertle a red wagon for Christmas, and now I have no Bertle. I had to buy it to comfort myself. May I give it to your little one, who was Bertie’s play- mate?’ And so that wished-for gift came with all the sweet tender- ness by which my grief stricken friend had relieved his own sore spirit. Before I had finished hearing the children's prayers the bell rang again and this time it was a jolly old parson. He began depre- catingly, “I know your children never have sharp implements or any- thing that might be dangerous to themselves, but I do think that little fellow would like a knife and I want to give him what would please him most. Now may I give him a knife?”” And the glittering toy was displayed and Svent into the waiting stocking before the chimney. And that boy knew there was a real Santa Claus because his letters were answered and his mother felt a reverent thanksglving that his childish faith had had its reward. MRS. D. J. SPENCER, Secretary W.C. T. U.