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Some Short Christmas Stories
There was a story that this place had once been held in trust by the
guardian of a young boy； who was himself the next heir； and who killed
the young boy by harsh and cruel treatment。 She knew nothing of that。
It has been said that there was a Cage in her bedroom in which the
guardian used to put the boy。 There was no such thing。 There was only a
closet。 She went to bed； made no alarm whatever in the night； and in the
morning said composedly to her maid when she came in； 〃Who is the
pretty forlorn…looking child who has been peeping out of that closet all
night？〃 The maid replied by giving a loud scream； and instantly
decamping。 She was surprised； but she was a woman of remarkable
strength of mind； and she dressed herself and went downstairs； and
closeted herself with her brother。 〃Now； Walter；〃 she said； 〃I have been
disturbed all night by a pretty； forlorn…looking boy； who has been
constantly peeping out of that closet in my room； which I can't open。
This is some trick。〃 〃I am afraid not； Charlotte；〃 said he； 〃for it is the
legend of the house。 It is the Orphan Boy。 What did he do？〃 〃He
opened the door softly；〃 said she； 〃and peeped out。 Sometimes； he came
a step or two into the room。 Then； I called to him； to encourage him； and
he shrunk； and shuddered； and crept in again； and shut the door。〃 〃The
closet has no communication； Charlotte；〃 said her brother； 〃with any other
part of the house； and it's nailed up。〃 This was undeniably true； and it
took two carpenters a whole forenoon to get it open； for examination。
Then； she was satisfied that she had seen the Orphan Boy。 But； the wild
and terrible part of the story is； that he was also seen by three of her
brother's sons； in succession； who all died young。 On the occasion of
each child being taken ill； he came home in a heat； twelve hours before；
and said； Oh； Mamma； he had been playing under a particular oak…tree； in
a certain meadow； with a strange boya pretty； forlorn…looking boy； who
was very timid； and made signs！ From fatal experience； the parents came
to know that this was the Orphan Boy； and that the course of that child
whom he chose for his little playmate was surely run。
Legion is the name of the German castles； where we sit up alone to
wait for the Spectrewhere we are shown into a room； made
comparatively cheerful for our receptionwhere we glance round at the
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Some Short Christmas Stories
shadows； thrown on the blank walls by the crackling firewhere we feel
very lonely when the village innkeeper and his pretty daughter have
retired； after laying down a fresh store of wood upon the hearth； and
setting forth on the small table such supper…cheer as a cold roast capon；
bread； grapes； and a flask of old Rhine wine… …where the reverberating
doors close on their retreat； one after another； like so many peals of sullen
thunderand where； about the small hours of the night； we come into the
knowledge of divers supernatural mysteries。 Legion is the name of the
haunted German students； in whose society we draw yet nearer to the fire；
while the schoolboy in the corner opens his eyes wide and round； and flies
off the footstool he has chosen for his seat； when the door accidentally
blows open。 Vast is the crop of such fruit； shining on our Christmas Tree；
in blossom； almost at the very top； ripening all down the boughs！
Among the later toys and fancies hanging thereas idle often and less
purebe the images once associated with the sweet old Waits； the softened
music in the night； ever unalterable！ Encircled by the social thoughts of
Christmas…time； still let the benignant figure of my childhood stand
unchanged！ In every cheerful image and suggestion that the season
brings； may the bright star that rested above the poor roof； be the star of all
the Christian World！ A moment's pause； O vanishing tree； of which the
lower boughs are dark to me as yet； and let me look once more！ I know
there are blank spaces on thy branches； where eyes that I have loved have
shone and smiled； from which they are departed。 But； far above； I see
the raiser of the dead girl； and the Widow's Son； and God is good！ If Age
be hiding for me in the unseen portion of thy downward growth； O may I；
with a grey head； turn a child's heart to that figure yet； and a child's
trustfulness and confidence！
Now； the tree is decorated with bright merriment； and song； and dance；
and cheerfulness。 And they are welcome。 Innocent and welcome be
they ever held； beneath the branches of the Christmas Tree； which cast no
gloomy shadow！ But； as it sinks into the ground； I hear a whisper going
through the leaves。 〃This； in commemoration of the law of love and
kindness； mercy and compassion。 This； in remembrance of Me！〃
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Some Short Christmas Stories
WHAT CHRISTMAS IS AS WE
GROW OLDER
Time was； with most of us； when Christmas Day encircling all our
limited world like a magic ring； left nothing out for us to miss or seek；
bound together all our home enjoyments； affections； and hopes； grouped
everything and every one around the Christmas fire； and made the little
picture shining in our bright young eyes； complete。
Time came； perhaps； all so soon； when our thoughts over…leaped that
narrow boundary； when there was some one （very dear； we thought then；
very beautiful； and absolutely perfect） wanting to the fulness of our
happiness； when we were wanting too （or we thought so； which did just as
well） at the Christmas hearth by which that some one sat； and when we
intertwined with every wreath and garland of our life