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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
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+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #52935 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52935)
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Blake's Walking-Stick, by Edward Eggleston
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: Mr. Blake's Walking-Stick
- A Christmas Story for Boys and Girls
-
-Author: Edward Eggleston
-
-Release Date: August 30, 2016 [EBook #52935]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. BLAKE'S WALKING-STICK ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Chris Curnow and the Online Distributed
-Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
-produced from images generously made available by The
-Internet Archive)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
- MR. BLAKE’S
- WALKING-STICK:
-
- _A CHRISTMAS STORY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS_.
-
- BY EDWARD EGGLESTON,
-
- AUTHOR OF
- “THE ROUND TABLE STORIES,” “THE CHICKEN LITTLE STORIES,”
- “STORIES TOLD ON A CELLAR DOOR,” ETC.
-
- CHICAGO:
- ADAMS, BLACKMER, & LYON PUBLISHING CO.
- 1872.
-
- Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870,
- BY ADAMS, BLACKMER, & LYON PUBLISHING COMPANY,
- In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
-
- RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE:
- STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY
- H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY.
-
-
-
-
- TO OUR
- LITTLE SILVERHAIR
- Who used to listen to My Stories;
- BUT WHO IS NOW
- Listening to the Christmas Stories of the Angels,
- THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED.
-
-
-
-
-PREFACE.
-
-
-_I have meant to furnish a book that would serve for a Christmas
-present to Sunday-scholars, either from the school or from their
-teachers. I hope it is a story, however, appropriate to all seasons,
-and that it will enforce one of the most beautiful and one of the most
-frequently forgotten precepts of the Lord Jesus._
-
- EDWARD EGGLESTON.
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS.
-
- CHAPTER I.
-
- THE WALKING-STICK WALKS 11
-
- CHAPTER II.
-
- LONG-HEADED WILLIE 20
-
- CHAPTER III.
-
- THE WALKING-STICK A TALKING STICK 25
-
- CHAPTER IV.
-
- MR. BLAKE AGREES WITH THE WALKING-STICK 31
-
- CHAPTER V.
-
- THE FATHER PREACHES, THE SON PRACTICES 36
-
- CHAPTER VI.
-
- SIXTY-FIVE DOLLARS 39
-
- CHAPTER VII.
-
- THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS 44
-
- CHAPTER VIII.
-
- SHARPS AND BETWEENS 51
-
- CHAPTER IX.
-
- THE ANGEL STAYS THE HAND 55
-
- CHAPTER X.
-
- TOMMY PUFFER 57
-
- CHAPTER XI.
-
- AN ODD PARTY 58
-
-
-
-
-MR. BLAKE’S WALKING-STICK.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I.
-
-_THE WALKING-STICK WALKS._
-
-
-Some men carry canes. Some men make the canes carry them. I never could
-tell just what Mr. Blake carried his cane for. I am sure it did not
-often feel his weight. For he was neither old, nor rich, nor lazy.
-
-He was a tall, straight man, who walked as if he loved to walk, with a
-cheerful tread that was good to see. I am sure he didn’t carry the cane
-for show. It was not one of those little sickly yellow things, that
-some men nurse as tenderly as Miss Snooks nurses her lap-dog. It was
-a great black stick of solid ebony, with a box-wood head, and I think
-Mr. Blake carried it for company. And it had a face, like that of an
-old man, carved on one side of the box-wood head. Mr. Blake kept it
-ringing in a hearty way upon the pavement as he walked, and the boys
-would look up from their marbles when they heard it, and say: “There
-comes Mr. Blake, the minister!” And I think that nearly every invalid
-and poor person in Thornton knew the cheerful voice of the minister’s
-stout ebony stick.
-
-It was a clear, crisp, sunshiny morning in December. The leaves were
-all gone, and the long lines of white frame houses that were hid away
-in the thick trees during the summer, showed themselves standing in
-straight rows now that the trees were bare. And Purser, Pond & Co.’s
-great factory on the brook in the valley below was plainly to be seen,
-with its long rows of windows shining and shimmering in the brilliant
-sun, and its brick chimney reached up like the Tower of Babel, and
-poured out a steady stream of dense, black smoke.
-
-It was just such a shining winter morning. Mr. Blake and his
-walking-stick were just starting out for a walk together. “It’s a fine
-morning,” thought the minister, as he shut the parsonage gate. And when
-he struck the cane sharply on the stones it answered him cheerily:
-“It’s a fine morning!” The cane always agreed with Mr. Blake. So they
-were able to walk together, according to Scripture, because they were
-agreed.
-
-Just as he came round the corner the minister found a party of boys
-waiting for him. They had already heard the cane remarking that it was
-a fine morning before Mr. Blake came in sight.
-
-“Good morning! Mr. Blake,” said the three boys.
-
-“Good morning, my boys; I’m glad to see you,” said the minister, and he
-clapped “Old Ebony” down on the sidewalk, and it said “I am glad to see
-you.”
-
-“Mr. Blake!” said Fred White, scratching his brown head and looking a
-little puzzled. “Mr. Blake, if it ain’t any harm--if you don’t mind,
-you know, telling a fellow,--a boy, I mean--” Just here he stopped
-talking; for though he kept on scratching vigorously, no more words
-would come; and comical Sammy Bantam, who stood alongside, whispered,
-“Keep a-scratching, Fred; the old cow will give down after a while!”
-
-Then Fred laughed, and the other boys, and the minister laughed, and
-the cane could do nothing but stamp its foot in amusement.
-
-“Well, Fred,” said the minister, “What is it? speak out.” But Fred
-couldn’t speak now for laughing, and Sammy had to do the talking
-himself. He was a stumpy boy, who had stopped off short; and you
-couldn’t guess his age, because his face was so much older than his
-body.
-
-“You see, Mr. Blake,” said Sammy, “we boys wanted to know,--if there
-wasn’t any harm in your telling,--why, we wanted to know what kind of a
-thing we are going to have on Christmas at our Sunday-school.”
-
-“Well, boys, I don’t know any more about it yet than you do. The
-teachers will talk it over at their next meeting. They have already
-settled some things, but I have not heard what.”
-
-“I hope it will be something good to eat,” said Tommy Puffer.
-Tommy’s body looked for all the world like a pudding-bag. It was an
-india-rubber pudding-bag, though. I shouldn’t like to say that Tommy
-was a glutton. Not at all. But I am sure that no boy of his age could
-put out of sight, in the same space of time, so many dough-nuts,
-ginger-snaps, tea-cakes, apple-dumplings, pumpkin-pies, jelly-tarts,
-puddings, ice-creams, raisins, nuts, and other things of the sort.
-Other people stared at him in wonder. He was never too full to take
-anything that was offered him, and at parties his weak and foolish
-mother was always getting all she could to stuff Tommy with. So when
-Tommy said he hoped it would be something nice to eat, and rolled his
-soft lips about, as though he had a cream tart in his mouth, all the
-boys laughed, and Mr. Blake smiled. I think even the cane would have
-smiled if it had thought it polite.
-
-“I hope it’ll be something pleasant,” said Fred Welch.
-
-“So do I,” said stumpy little Tommy Bantam.
-
-“So do I, boys,” said Mr. Blake, as he turned away; and all the way
-down the block Old Ebony kept calling back, “So do I, boys! so do I!”
-
-Mr. Blake and his friend the cane kept on down the street, until they
-stood in front of a building that was called “The Yellow Row.” It was a
-long, two-story frame building, that had once been inhabited by genteel
-people. Why they ever built it in that shape, or why they daubed it
-with yellow paint, is more than I can tell. But it had gone out of
-fashion, and now it was, as the boys expressed it, “seedy.” Old hats
-and old clothes filled many of the places once filled by glass. Into
-one room of this row Mr. Blake entered, saying:--
-
-“How are you, Aunt Parm’ly?”
-
-“Howd’y, Mr. Blake, howd’y! I know’d you was a-comin’, honey, fer I
-hyeard the sound of yer cane afore you come in. I’m mis’able these yer
-days, thank you. I’se got a headache, an’ a backache, and a toothache
-in de boot.”
-
-I suppose the poor old colored woman meant to say that she had a
-toothache “to boot.”
-
-“You see, Mr. Blake, Jane’s got a little sumpin to do now, and we can
-git bread enough, thank the Lord, but as fer coal, that’s the hardest
-of all. We has to buy it by the bucketful, and that’s mity high at
-fifteen cents a bucket. An’ pears like we couldn’t never git nothin’
-a-head on account of my roomatiz. Where de coal’s to come from dis ere
-winter I don’t know, cep de good Lord sends it down out of the sky and
-I reckon stone-coal don’t never come dat dar road.”
-
-After some more talk, Mr. Blake went in to see Peter Sitles, the blind
-broom-maker.
-
-“I hyeard yer stick, preacher Blake,” said Sitles. “That air stick o’
-yourn’s better’n a whole rigimint of doctors fer the blues. An’ I’ve
-been a havin’ on the blues powerful bad, Mr. Blake, these yer last few
-days. I remembered what you was a-saying the last time you was here,
-about trustin’ of the good Lord. But I’ve had a purty consid’able
-heartache under my jacket fer all that. Now, there’s that Ben of mine,”
-and here Sitles pointed to a restless little fellow of nine years old,
-whose pants had been patched and pieced until they had more colors than
-Joseph’s coat. He was barefoot, ragged, and looked hungry, as some poor
-children always do. Their minds seem hungrier than their bodies. He was
-rocking a baby in an old cradle. “There’s Ben,” continued the blind
-man, “he’s as peart a boy as you ever see, preacher Blake, ef I do say
-it as hadn’t orter say it. Bennie hain’t got no clothes. I can’t beg.
-But Ben orter be in school.” Here Peter Sitles choked a little.
-
-“How’s broom-making, Peter?” said the minister.
-
-“Well, you see, it’s the machines as is a-spoiling us. The machines
-make brooms cheap, and what can a blind feller like me do agin the
-machines with nothing but my fingers? ’Tain’t no sort o’ use to butt
-my head agin the machines, when I ain’t got no eyes nother. It’s like
-a goat trying its head on a locomotive. Ef I could only eddicate
-Peter and the other two, I’d be satisfied. You see, I never had no
-book-larnin’ myself, and I can’t talk proper no more’n a cow can climb
-a tree.”
-
-“But, Mr. Sitles, how much would a broom-machine cost you?” asked the
-minister.
-
-“More’n it’s any use to think on. It’ll cost seventy dollars, and if it
-cost seventy cents ’twould be jest exactly seventy cents more’n I could
-afford to pay. For the money my ole woman gits fer washin’ don’t go
-noways at all towards feedin’ the four children, let alone buying me a
-machine.”
-
-The minister looked at his cane, but it did not answer him. Something
-must be done. The minister was sure of that. Perhaps the walking-stick
-was, too. But what?
-
-That was the question.
-
-The minister told Sitles good-bye, and started to make other
-visits. And on the way the cane kept crying out, “Something _must_
-be done,--something MUST be done,--something MUST be done,” making
-the _must_ ring out sharper every time. When Mr. Blake and the
-walking-stick got to the market-house, just as they turned off from
-Milk Street into the busier Main Street, the cane changed its tune and
-begun to say, “But what,--but _what_,--but WHAT,--but WHAT,” until it
-said it so sharply that the minister’s head ached, and he put Old
-Ebony under his arm, so that it couldn’t talk any more. It was a way he
-had of hushing it up when he wanted to think.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II.
-
-_LONG-HEADED WILLIE._
-
-
-“De biskits is cold, and de steaks is cold as--as--ice, and dinner’s
-spiled!” said Curlypate, a girl about three years old, as Mr. Blake
-came in from his forenoon of visiting. She tried to look very much
-vexed and “put out,” but there was always either a smile or a cry
-hidden away in her dimpled cheek.
-
-“Pshaw! Curlypate,” said Mr. Blake, as he put down his cane, “you don’t
-scold worth a cent!” And he lifted her up and kissed her.
-
-And then Mamma Blake smiled, and they all sat down to the table. While
-they ate, Mr. Blake told about his morning visits, and spoke of Parm’ly
-without coal, and Peter Sitles with no broom-machine, and described
-little Ben Sitles’s hungry face, and told how he had visited the widow
-Martin, who had no sewing-machine, and who had to receive help from the
-overseer of the poor. The overseer told her that she must bind out her
-daughter, twelve years old, and her boy of ten, if she expected to have
-any help; and the mother’s heart was just about broken at the thought
-of losing her children.
-
-Now, while all this was taking place, Willie Blake, the minister’s
-son, a boy about thirteen years of age, sat by the big porcelain
-water-pitcher, listening to all that was said. His deep blue eyes
-looked over the pitcher at his father, then at his mother, taking in
-all their descriptions of poverty with a wondrous pitifulness. But he
-did not say much. What went on in his long head I do not know, for his
-was one of those heads that projected forward and backward, and the top
-of which overhung the base, for all the world like a load of hay. Now
-and then his mother looked at him, as if she would like to see through
-his skull and read his thoughts. But I think she didn’t see anything
-but the straight, silken, fine, flossy hair, silvery white, touched a
-little bit,--only a little,--as he turned it in looking from one to the
-other, with a tinge of what people call a golden, but what is really a
-sort of a pleasant straw color. He usually talked, and asked questions,
-and laughed like other boys; but now he seemed to be swallowing the
-words of his father and mother more rapidly even than he did his
-dinner; for, like most boys, he ate as if it were a great waste of time
-to eat. But when he was done he did not hurry off as eagerly as usual
-to reading or to play. He sat and listened.
-
-“What makes you look so sober, Willie?” asked Helen, his sister.
-
-“What you thinkin’, Willie?” said Curlypate, peering through the
-pitcher handle at him.
-
-“Willie,” broke in his father, “mamma and I are going to a wedding out
-at Sugar Hill”--
-
-“Sugar Hill; O my!” broke in Curlypate.
-
-“Out at Sugar Hill,” continued Mr. Blake, stroking the Curlypate, “and
-as I have some calls to make, we shall not be back till bedtime. I am
-sorry to keep you from your play this Saturday afternoon, but we have
-no other housekeeper but you and Helen. See that the children get their
-suppers early, and be careful about fire.”
-
-I believe to “be careful about fire” is the last command that every
-parent gives to children on leaving them alone.
-
-Now I know that people who write stories are very careful nowadays not
-to make their boys too good. I suppose that I ought to represent Willie
-as “taking on” a good deal when he found that he couldn’t play all
-Saturday afternoon, as he had expected. But I shall not. For one thing,
-at least, in my story, is true; that is, Willie. If I tell you that he
-is good you may believe it. I have seen him.
-
-He only said, “Yes, sir.”
-
-Mrs. Blake did not keep a girl. The minister did not get a small
-fortune of a salary. So it happened that Willie knew pretty well how to
-keep house. He was a good brave boy, never ashamed to help his mother
-in a right manly way. He could wash dishes and milk the cow, and often,
-when mamma had a sick-headache, had he gotten a good breakfast, never
-forgetting tea and toast for the invalid.
-
-So Sancho, the Canadian pony, was harnessed to the minister’s rusty
-buggy, and Mr. and Mrs. Blake got in and told the children good-bye.
-Then Sancho started off, and had gone about ten steps, when he was
-suddenly reined up with a “Whoa!”
-
-“Willie!” said Mr. Blake.
-
-“Sir.”
-
-“Be careful about fire.”
-
-“Yes, sir.”
-
-And then old blackey-brown Sancho moved on in a gentle trot, and Willie
-and Helen and Richard went into the house, where Curlypate had already
-gone, and where they found her on tiptoe, with her short little fingers
-in the sugar-bowl, trying in vain to find a lump that would not go to
-pieces in the vigorous squeeze that she gave it in her desire to make
-sure of it.
-
-So Willie washed the dishes, while Helen wiped them, and Richard put
-them away, and they had a merry time, though Willie had to soothe
-several rising disputes between Helen and Richard. Then a glorious
-lot of wood was gotten in, and Helen came near sweeping a hole in the
-carpet in her eager desire to “surprise mamma,” Curlypate went in the
-parlor and piled things up in a wonderful way, declaring that she, too,
-was going to “_susprise_ mamma.” And doubtless mamma would have felt no
-little surprise if she could have seen the parlor after Curlypate “put
-it to rights.”
-
-Later in the evening the cow was milked, and a plain supper of bread
-and milk eaten. Then Richard and Curlypate were put away for the night.
-And presently Helen, who was bravely determined to keep Willie company,
-found her head trying to drop off her shoulders, and so she had to give
-up to the “sand man,” and go to bed.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III.
-
-_THE WALKING-STICK A TALKING STICK._
-
-
-Willie was now all by himself. He put on more wood, and drew the
-rocking-chair up by the fire, and lay back in it. It was very still; he
-could hear every mouse that moved. The stillness seemed to settle clear
-down to his heart. Presently a wagon went clattering by. Then, as the
-sound died away in the distance, it seemed stiller than ever. Willie
-tried to sleep; but he couldn’t. He kept listening; and after all he
-was listening to nothing; nothing but that awful clock, that would keep
-up such a tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick. The curtains were down, and
-Willie didn’t dare to raise them, or to peep out. He could _feel_ how
-dark it was out doors.
-
-But presently he forgot the stillness. He fell to thinking of what Mr.
-Blake had said at dinner. He thought of poor old rheumatic Parm’ly,
-and her single bucket of coal at a time. He thought of the blind
-broom-maker who needed a broom-machine, and of the poor widow whose
-children must be taken away because the mother had no sewing-machine.
-All of these thoughts made the night seem dark, and they made Willie’s
-heart heavy. But the thoughts kept him company.
-
-Then he wished he was rich, and he thought if he were as rich as
-Captain Purser, who owned the mill, he would give away sewing-machines
-to all poor widows who needed them. But pshaw! what was the use of
-wishing? His threadbare pantaloons told him how far off he was from
-being rich.
-
-But he would go to the Polytechnic; he would become a civil engineer.
-He would make a fortune some day when he became celebrated. Then he
-would give widow Martin a sewing-machine. This was the nice castle
-in the air that Willie built. But just as he put on the last stone a
-single thought knocked it down.
-
-What would become of the widow and her children while he was learning
-to be an engineer and making a fortune afterward? And where would he
-get the money to go to the Polytechnic? This last question Willie had
-asked every day for a year or two past.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Unable to solve this problem, his head grew tired, and he lay down on
-the lounge, saying to himself, “Something must be done!”
-
-“Something must be done!” Willie was sure somebody spoke. He looked
-around. There was nobody in the room.
-
-“Something _must_ be done!” This time he saw in the corner of the room,
-barely visible in the shadow, his father’s cane. The voice seemed to
-come from that corner.
-
-“Something MUST be done!” Yes, it was the cane. He could see its yellow
-head, and the face on one side was toward him. How bright its eyes
-were! It did not occur to Willie just then that there was anything
-surprising in the fact that the walking-stick had all at once become a
-talking stick.
-
-“Something MUST be done!” said the cane, lifting its one foot up and
-bringing it down with emphasis at the word must. Willie felt pleased
-that the little old man--I mean the walking-stick--should come to his
-help.
-
-“I tell you what,” said Old Ebony, hopping out of his shady corner;
-“I tell you what,” it said, and then stopped as if to reflect; then
-finished by saying, “It’s a shame!”
-
-Willie was about to ask the cane to what he referred, but he thought
-best to wait till Old Ebony got ready to tell of his own accord. But
-the walking-stick did not think best to answer immediately, but took
-entirely a new and surprising track. It actually went to quoting
-Scripture!
-
-“My eyes are dim,” said the cane, “and I never had much learning;
-canes weren’t sent to school when I was young. Won’t you read the
-thirty-fifth verse of the twentieth chapter of Acts.”
-
-Willie turned to the stand and saw the Bible open at that verse. He did
-not feel surprised. It seemed natural enough to him. He read the verse,
-not aloud, but to himself, for Old Ebony seemed to hear his thoughts.
-He read:--
-
-“Ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord
-Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
-
-“Now,” said the walking-stick, stepping or hopping up toward the lounge
-and leaning thoughtfully over the head of it, “Now, I say that it is a
-shame that when the birthday of that Lord Jesus, who gave himself away,
-and who said it is more blessed to give than to receive, comes round,
-all of you Sunday-school scholars are thinking only of what you are
-going to get.”
-
-Willie was about to say that they gave as well as received on
-Christmas, and that his class had already raised the money to buy a
-Bible Dictionary for their teacher. But Old Ebony seemed to guess his
-thought, and he only said, “And that’s another shame!”
-
-Willie couldn’t see how this could be, and he thought the walking-stick
-was using very strong language indeed. I think myself the cane spoke
-too sharply, for I don’t think the harm lies in giving to and receiving
-from our friends, but in neglecting the poor. But you don’t care what I
-think, you want to know what the cane said.
-
-“I’m pretty well acquainted with Scripture,” said Old Ebony, “having
-spent fourteen years in company with a minister. Now won’t you please
-read the twelfth and thirteenth verses of the fourteenth chapter of”--
-
-But before the cane could finish the sentence, Willie heard some one
-opening the door. It was his father. He looked round in bewilderment.
-The oil in the lamp had burned out, and it was dark. The fire was low,
-and the room chilly.
-
-“Heigh-ho, Willie, my son,” said Mr. Blake, “where’s your light, and
-where’s your fire. This is a cold reception. What have you been doing?”
-
-“Listening to the cane talk,” he replied; and thinking what a foolish
-answer that was, he put on some more coal, while his mother, who was
-lighting the lamp, said he must have been dreaming. The walking-stick
-stood in its corner, face to the wall, as if it had never been a
-talking stick.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV.
-
-_MR. BLAKE AGREES WITH THE WALKING-STICK._
-
-
-Early on Sunday morning Willie awoke and began to think about Sitles,
-and to wish he had money to buy him a broom-machine. And then he
-thought of widow Martin. But all his thinking would do no good. Then he
-thought of what Old Ebony had said, and he wished he could know what
-that text was that the cane was just going to quote.
-
-“It was,” said Willie, “the twelfth and thirteenth verses of the
-fourteenth chapter of something. I’ll see.”
-
-So he began with the beginning of the Bible, and looked first at
-Genesis xiv. 12, 13. But it was about the time when Abraham had heard
-of the capture of Lot and mustered his army to recapture him. He
-thought a minute.
-
-“That can’t be what it is,” said Willie, “I’ll look at Exodus.”
-
-In Exodus it was about standing still at the Red Sea and waiting for
-God’s salvation. It might mean that God would deliver the poor. But
-that was not just what the cane was talking about. It was about giving
-gifts to friends. So he went on to Leviticus. But it was about the wave
-offering, and the sin offering, and the burnt offering. That was not
-it. And so he went from book to book until he had reached the twelfth
-and thirteenth verses of the fourteenth chapter of the book of Judges.
-He was just reading in that place about Samson’s riddle, when his mamma
-called him to breakfast.
-
-He was afraid to say anything about it at the table for fear of being
-laughed at. But he was full of what the walking-stick said. And at
-family worship his father read the twentieth chapter of Acts. When he
-came to the part about its being more blessed to give than to receive,
-Willie said, “That’s what the cane said.”
-
-“What did you say?” asked his father.
-
-“I was only thinking out loud,” said Willie.
-
-“Don’t think out loud while I am reading,” said Mr. Blake.
-
-Willie did not find time to look any further for the other verses. He
-wished his father had happened on them instead of the first text which
-the cane quoted.
-
-In church he kept thinking all the time about the cane. “Now what could
-it mean by the twelfth and thirteenth verses of the fourteenth chapter?
-There isn’t anything in the Bible against giving away presents to one’s
-friends. It was only a dream anyhow, and maybe there’s nothing in it.”
-
-But he forgot the services, I am sorry to say, in his thoughts. At last
-Mr. Blake arose to read his text. Willie looked at him, but thought of
-what the cane said. But what was it that attracted his attention so
-quickly?
-
-“The twelfth and thirteenth verses”--
-
-“Twelfth and thirteenth!” said Willie to himself.
-
-“Of the fourteenth chapter,” said the minister.
-
-“Fourteenth chapter!” said Willie, almost aloud.
-
-“Of Luke.”
-
-Willie was all ears, while Mr. Blake read: “Then said he also to him
-that bade him, When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy
-friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich neighbors,
-lest they also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee. But when
-thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind.”
-
-“That’s it!” he said, half aloud, but his mother jogged him.
-
-The minister added the next verse also, and read: “And thou shalt be
-blessed, for they cannot recompense thee; for thou shalt be recompensed
-at the resurrection of the just.”
-
-Willie had never listened to a sermon as he did to that. He stopped two
-or three times to wonder whether the cane had been actually about to
-repeat his father’s text to him, or whether he had not heard his father
-repeat it at some time, and had dreamed about it.
-
-I am not going to tell you much about Mr. Blake’s sermon. It was a
-sermon that he and the walking-stick had prepared while they were going
-round among the poor. I think Mr. Blake did not strike his cane down on
-the sidewalk for nothing. Most of that sermon must have been hammered
-out in that way, when he and the walking-stick were saying, “Something
-must be done!” For that was just what that sermon said. It told about
-the wrong of forgetting, on the birthday of Christ, to do anything for
-the poor. It made everybody think. But Mr. Blake did not know how much
-of that sermon went into Willie Blake’s long head, as he sat there with
-his white full forehead turned up to his father.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V.
-
-_THE FATHER PREACHES AND THE SON PRACTICES._
-
-
-That afternoon, Willie was at Sunday-school long before the time. He
-had a plan.
-
-“I’ll tell you what, boys,” said he, “let’s not give Mr. Marble
-anything this year; and let’s ask him not to give us anything. Let’s
-get him to put the money he would use for us with the money we should
-spend on a present for him, and give it to buy coal for Old Aunt
-Parm’ly.”
-
-“I mean to spend all my money on soft gum drops and tarts,” said Tommy
-Puffer; “they’re splendid!” and with that he began, as usual, to roll
-his soft lips together in a half chewing, half sucking manner, as if he
-had a half dozen cream tarts under his tongue, and two dozen gum drops
-in his cheeks.
-
-“Tommy,” said stumpy little Sammy Bantam, “it’s a good thing you didn’t
-live in Egypt, Tommy, in the days of Joseph.”
-
-“Why?” asked Tommy.
-
-“Because,” said Sammy, looking around the room absently, as if he
-hardly knew what he was going to say, “because, you see”--and then he
-opened a book and began to read, as if he had forgotten to finish the
-sentence.
-
-“Well, why?” demanded Tommy, sharply.
-
-“Well, because if Joseph had had to feed you during the seven years of
-plenty, there wouldn’t have been a morsel left for the years of famine!”
-
-The boys laughed as boys will at a good shot, and Tommy reddened a
-little and said, regretfully, that he guessed the Egyptians hadn’t any
-dough-nuts.
-
-Willie did not forget his main purpose, but carried his point in his
-own class. He still had time to speak to some of the boys and girls
-in other classes. Everybody liked to do what Willie asked; there was
-something sweet and strong in his blue eyes, eyes that “did not seem to
-have any bottom, they were so deep,” one of the girls said. Soon there
-was an excitement in the school, and about the door; girls and boys
-talking and discussing, but as soon as any opposition came up Willie’s
-half coaxing but decided way bore it down. I think he was much helped
-by Sammy’s wit, which was all on his side. It was agreed, finally, that
-whatever scholars meant to give to teachers, or teachers to scholars,
-should go to the poor.
-
-The teachers caught the enthusiasm, and were very much in favor of the
-project, for in the whole movement they saw the fruit of their own
-teaching.
-
-The superintendent had been detained, and was surprised to find the
-school standing in knots about the room. He soon called them to order,
-and expressed his regrets that they should get into such disorder.
-There was a smile on all faces, and he saw that there was something
-more in the apparent disorder than he thought. After school it was
-fixed that each class should find its own case of poverty. The young
-men’s and the young women’s Bible classes undertook to supply Sitles
-with a broom-machine, a class of girls took Aunt Parm’ly under their
-wing, other classes knew of other cases of need, and so each class had
-its hands full. But Willie could not get any class to see that Widow
-Martin had a sewing-machine. That was left for his own; and how should
-a class of eight boys do it?
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI.
-
-_SIXTY-FIVE DOLLARS._
-
-
-Willie took the boys into the parsonage. They figured on it. There were
-sixty-five dollars to be raised to buy the machine. The seven boys were
-together, for Tommy Puffer had gone home. He said he didn’t feel like
-staying, and Sammy Bantam thought he must be a little hungry.
-
-Willie attacked the problem, sixty-five dollars. Toward that amount
-they had three dollars and a half that they had intended to spend on
-a present for Mr. Marble. That left just sixty-one dollars and fifty
-cents to be raised. Willie ran across the street and brought Mr.
-Marble. He said he had made up his mind to give the boys a book apiece,
-and that each book would cost a dollar. It was rather more than he
-could well afford; but as he had intended to give eight dollars for
-their presents, and as he was pleased with their unselfish behavior,
-he would make it ten.
-
-“Good!” said Charley Somerset, who always saw the bright side of
-things,“that makes it all, except fifty-one dollars and a half.”
-
-“Yes,” said Sammy Bantam, “and you’re eleven feet high, lacking a
-couple of yards!”
-
-Willie next called his father in, and inquired how much his Christmas
-present was to cost.
-
-“Three and a half,” said his father.
-
-“That’s a lot! Will you give me the money instead?”
-
-“Yes; but I meant to give you a Life of George Stephenson, and some
-other books on engineering.”
-
-This made Willie think a moment; but seeing the walking-stick in the
-corner, he said: “Mrs. Martin must have a machine, and that three and a
-half makes seventeen dollars. How to get the other forty-eight is the
-question.”
-
-Mr. Blake and Mr. Marble both agreed that the boys could not raise so
-much money, and should not undertake it. But Willie said there was
-nobody to do it, and he guessed it would come somehow. The other boys,
-when they came to church that evening, told Willie that their presents
-were commuted for money also; so they had twenty-five dollars toward
-the amount. But that was the end of it, and there were forty dollars
-yet to come!
-
-Willie lay awake that night, thinking. Mr. Marble’s class could not
-raise the money. All the other classes had given all they could. And
-the teachers would each give in their classes. And they had raised all
-they could spare besides to buy nuts and candy! Good! That was just it;
-they would do without candy!
-
-At school the next morning, Willie’s white head was bobbing about
-eagerly. He made every boy and girl sign a petition, asking the
-teachers not to give them any nuts or candy. They all signed except
-Tommy Puffer. He said it was real mean not to have any candy. They
-might just as well not have any Sunday-school, or any Christmas either.
-But seeing a naughty twinkle in Sammy Bantam’s eye, he waddled away,
-while Sammy fired a shot after him, by remarking that, if Tommy had
-been one of the Shepherds in Bethlehem, he wouldn’t have listened to
-the angels till he had inquired if they had any lemon-drops in their
-pockets!
-
-That night the extra Teachers’ Meeting was held, and in walked
-white-headed Willie with stunted Sammy Bantam at his heels to keep him
-in countenance. When their petition was presented, Miss Belden, who sat
-near Willie, said, “Well done! Willie.”
-
-“But I protest,” said Mrs. Puffer,--who was of about as handsome a
-figure as her son,--“I protest against such an outrage on the children.
-My Tommy’s been a-feeling bad about it all day. It’ll break his heart
-if he don’t get some candy.”
-
-Willie was shy, but for a moment he forgot it, and, turning his
-intelligent blue eyes on Mrs. Puffer, he said,--
-
-“It will break Mrs. Martin’s heart if her children are taken away from
-her.”
-
-“Well,” said Mrs. Puffer, “I always did hear that the preacher’s boy
-was the worst in the parish, and I won’t take any impudence. My son
-will join the Mission School, where they aren’t too stingy to give him
-a bit of candy!” And Mrs. Puffer left, and everybody was pleased.
-
-Willie got the money; but the teachers had counted on making up
-their festival mostly with cakes and other dainties, contributed by
-families. So that the candy money was only sixteen dollars, and Willie
-was yet a long way off from having the amount he needed. Twenty-four
-dollars were yet wanting.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII.
-
-_THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS._
-
-
-The husband of widow Martin had been killed by a railroad accident.
-The family were very poor. Mrs. Martin could sew, and she could have
-sustained her family if she had had a machine. But fingers are not
-worth much against iron wheels. And so, while others had machines, Mrs.
-Martin could not make much without one. She had been obliged to ask
-help from the overseer of the poor.
-
-Mr Lampeer, the overseer, was a hard man. He had not skill enough to
-detect impostors, and so he had come to believe that everybody who was
-poor was rascally. He had but one eye, and he turned his head round in
-a curious way to look at you out of it. That dreadful one eye always
-seemed to be going to shoot. His voice had not a chord of tenderness in
-it, but was in every way harsh and hard. It was said that he had been
-a schoolmaster once. I pity the scholars.
-
-Widow Martin lived--if you could call it living--in a tumble-down
-looking house, that would not have stood many earthquakes. She had
-tried diligently to support her family and keep them together; but
-the wolf stood always at the door. Sewing by hand did not bring in
-quite money enough to buy bread and clothes for four well children,
-and pay the expenses of poor little Harry’s sickness; for all through
-the summer and fall Harry had been sick. At last the food was gone,
-and there was nothing to buy fuel with. Mrs. Martin had to go to the
-overseer of the poor.
-
-She was a little, shy, hard-working woman, this Mrs. Martin; so when
-she took her seat among the paupers of every sort in Mr. Lampeer’s
-office, and waited her turn, it was with a trembling heart. She watched
-the hard man, who didn’t mean to be so hard, but who couldn’t tell the
-difference between a good face and a counterfeit; she watched him as he
-went through with the different cases, and her heart beat every minute
-more and more violently. When he came to her he broke out with--
-
-“What’s _your_ name?” in a voice that sounded for all the world as if
-he were accusing her of robbing a safe.
-
-“Sarah Martin,” said the widow, trembling with terror, and growing red
-and white in turns. Mr. Lampeer, who was on the lookout for any sign of
-guiltiness, was now sure that Mrs. Martin could not be honest.
-
-“Where do you live?” This was spoken with a half sneer.
-
-“In Slab Alley,” whispered the widow, for her voice was scared out of
-her.
-
-“How many children have you got?”
-
-Mrs. Martin gave him the list of her five, with their ages, telling him
-of little Harry, who was six years old and an invalid.
-
-“Your oldest is twelve and a girl. I have a place for her, and, I
-think, for the boy, too. You must bind them out. Mr. Slicker, the
-landlord of the Farmers’ Hotel, will take the girl, and I think James
-Sweeny will take the boy to run errands about the livery stable. I’ll
-send you some provisions and coal to-day; but you must let the children
-go. I’ll come to your house in a few days. Don’t object; I won’t hear
-a word. If you’re as poor as you let on to be, you’ll be glad enough
-to get your young ones into places where they’ll get enough to eat.
-That’s all, not a word, now.” And he turned to the next applicant,
-leaving the widow to go home with her heart _so_ cold.
-
-Let Susie go to Slicker’s tavern! What kind of a house would it be
-without her? Who would attend to the house while she sewed? And what
-would become of her girl in such a place? And then to send George, who
-had to wait on Harry, to send him away forever was to shut out all hope
-of ever being in better circumstances. Then she could not sew, and the
-children could never help her. God pity the people that fall into the
-hands of public charity!
-
-The next few days wore heavily on with the widow. What to do she did
-not know. At night she scarcely slept at all. When she did drop into a
-sleep, she dreamed that her children were starving, and woke in fright.
-Then she slept again, and dreamed that a one-eyed robber had gotten in
-at the window, and was carrying off Susie and George. At last morning
-came. The last of the food was eaten for breakfast, and widow Martin
-sat down to wait. Her mind was in a horrible state of doubt. To starve
-to death together, or to give up her children! That was the question
-which many a poor mother’s heart has had to decide. Mrs. Martin soon
-became so nervous she could not sew. She could not keep back the tears,
-and when Susie and George put their arms about her neck and asked
-what was the matter, it made the matter worse. It was the day before
-Christmas. The sleigh-bells jingled merrily. Even in Slab Alley one
-could hear sounds of joy at the approaching festivities. But there was
-no joy in Widow Martin’s house or heart. The dinner hour had come and
-passed. The little children were hungry. And yet Mrs. Martin had not
-made up her mind.
-
-At the appointed time Lampeer came. He took out the two indentures with
-which the mother was to sign away all right to her two eldest children.
-It was in vain that the widow told him that if she lost them she could
-do no work for her own support, and must be forever a pauper. Lampeer
-had an idea that no poor person had a right to love children. Parental
-love was, in his eyes, or his eye, an expensive luxury that none but
-the rich should indulge in.
-
-“Mrs. Martin,” he said, “you may either sign these indentures, by which
-your girl will get a good place as a nurse and errand girl for the
-tavern-keeper’s wife, and your boy will have plenty to eat and get to
-be a good hostler, or you and your brats may starve!” With that he took
-his hat and opened the door.
-
-“Stop!” said Mrs. Martin, “I must have medicine and food, or Harry will
-not live till Sunday. I will sign.”
-
-The papers were again spread out. The poor-master jerked the folds
-out of them impatiently, in a way that seemed to say, “You keep me an
-unconscionable long time about a very small matter.”
-
-When the papers were spread out, Mrs. Martin’s two oldest children,
-who began to understand what was going on, cried bitterly. Mrs. Martin
-took the pen and was about to sign. But it was necessary to have two
-witnesses, and so Lampeer took his hat and called a neighbor-woman, for
-the second witness.
-
-Mrs. Martin delayed the signature as long as she could. But seeing no
-other help, she took up the pen. She thought of Abraham with the knife
-in his hand. She hoped that an angel would call out of heaven to her
-relief. But as there was no voice from heaven, she dipped the pen in
-the ink.
-
-Just then some one happened to knock at the door, and the poor woman’s
-nerves were so weak that she let the pen fall, and sank into a chair.
-Lampeer, who stood near the door, opened it with an impatient jerk,
-and--did the angel of deliverance enter?
-
-It was only Willie Blake and Sammy Bantam.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII.
-
-_SHARPS AND BETWEENS._
-
-
-Let us go back. We left Willie awhile ago puzzling over that
-twenty-four dollars. After many hours of thought and talk with Sammy
-about how they should manage it, two gentlemen gave them nine dollars,
-and so there was but fifteen more to be raised. But that fifteen seemed
-harder to get than the fifty they had already gotten. At last Willie
-thought of something. They would try the sewing-machine man. Mr. Sharps
-would throw off fifteen dollars.
-
-But they did not know Mr. Sharps. Though he made more than fifteen
-dollars on the machine, he hated to throw anything off. He was always
-glad to put on. Sammy described him by saying that “Mr. Sharps was not
-for-giving but he was for-getting.”
-
-They talked; they told the story; they begged. Mr. Sharps really could
-not afford to throw off a cent. He was poor. Taxes were high. He gave
-a great deal. (I do not know what he called a great deal. He had
-been to church three times in a year, and twice he had put a penny in
-the plate. I suppose Mr. Sharps thought that a great deal. And so it
-was, for him, poor fellow.) And then the butcher had raised the price
-of meat; and he had to pay twenty-three dollars for a bonnet for his
-daughter. Really, he was too poor. So the boys went away down-hearted.
-
-But Sammy went straight to an uncle of his, who was one of the editors
-of the _Thornton Daily Bugle_. After a private talk with him he started
-back to Mr. Sharps. Willie followed Sammy this time. What Sammy had in
-his head Willie could not make out.
-
-“I’ll fix him!” That was the only word Sammy uttered on the way back.
-
-“Now, Mr. Sharps,” he began, “my uncle’s name is Josiah Penn. Maybe
-you know him. He’s one of the editors of the _Thornton Daily Bugle_.
-I’ve been talking with him. If you let me have a Feeler and Stilson
-sewing-machine for fifty dollars, I will have a good notice put in the
-_Daily Bugle_.”
-
-Mr. Sharps whistles a minute. He thought he could not do it. No, he was
-too poor.
-
-“Well, then, Willie,” said Sammy, “we’ll go across the street and try
-the agent of the Hillrocks and Nibbs machine. I think Mr. Betweens will
-take my offer.”
-
-“O!” said Mr. Sharps, “you don’t want that machine. It’s only a single
-thread, and it will ravel, and--well--you don’t want that.”
-
-“Indeed, my mother says there isn’t a pin to choose between them,” said
-Sammy; “and I can give Mr. Betweens just as good a notice as I could
-give you.”
-
-“Very well, take the machine for fifty dollars. I do it just out of
-pity for the widow, you know. I never could stand by and see suffering
-and not relieve it. You won’t forget about that notice in the _Daily
-Bugle_, though, will you?”
-
-No, Sammy wouldn’t forget.
-
-It was now the day before Christmas, and the boys thought they had
-better get the machine down there.
-
-So they found Billy Horton, who belonged to their class, and who drove
-an express wagon, and told him about it. He undertook to take it down.
-But first, he drove around the town and picked up all the boys of the
-class, that they might share in the pleasure.
-
-Meantime, a gentleman who had heard of Willie’s efforts, gave him a
-five dollar bill for widow Martin. This Willie invested in provisions,
-which he instructed the grocer to send to the widow.
-
-He and Sammy hurried down to widow Martin’s, and got there, as I told
-you in the last chapter, just as she was about to sign away all right,
-title, and interest in two of the children whom God had given her; to
-sign them away at the command of the hard Mr. Lampeer, who was very
-much irritated that he should be interrupted just at the moment when he
-was about to carry the point; for he loved to carry a point better than
-to eat his breakfast.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IX.
-
-_THE ANGEL STAYS THE HAND._
-
-
-When the boys came in, they told the widow that they wished to speak
-with little sick Harry. They talked to Harry awhile, without noticing
-what was going on in the other part of the room.
-
-Presently Willie felt his arm pulled. Looking round, he saw Susie’s
-tearful face. “Please don’t let mother give me and George away.”
-Somehow all the children in school had the habit of coming to this
-long-headed Willie for help, and to him Susie came.
-
-That word of Susie’s awakened Willie. Up to that moment he had not
-thought what Mr. Lampeer was there for. Now he saw Mrs. Martin holding
-the pen with trembling hand, and making motions in the air preparatory
-to writing her name. Most people not used to writing, write in the air
-before they touch the paper. When Willie saw this, he flew across the
-room and thrust his hand upon the place where the name ought to be,
-saying,--
-
-“Don’t do that, Mrs. Martin! Don’t give away your children!”
-
-Poor woman! the pen dropped from her hand as the knife had dropped from
-Abraham’s. She grasped Willie’s arm, saying,--
-
-“How can I help it? Do tell me!”
-
-But Lampeer had grasped the other arm, and broke out with--
-
-“You rogue, what do you mean?”
-
-Willie’s fine blue eyes turned quickly into Lampeer’s one muddy eye.
-
-“Let go!” he said, very quietly but very determinedly, “don’t strike
-me, or my father will take the law on you.”
-
-Lampeer let go.
-
-Just then the groceries came, and a minute later, Billy Horton’s wagon
-drove up with the machine, and all the other boys, who came in and
-shook hands with the poor but delighted mother and her children. I
-cannot tell you any more about that scene. I only know that Lampeer
-went out angry and muttering.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER X.
-
-_TOMMY PUFFER._
-
-
-Willie was happy that night. He went down to the festival at the
-Mission. There was Tommy Puffer’s soft, oyster-like body among the
-scholars of the Mission. He was waiting for something good. His mouth
-and eyes were watering. He looked triumphantly at the boys from the
-other school. They wouldn’t get anything so nice. The superintendent
-announced that no boy’s name would be called for a paper bag of
-“refreshments” but those who had been present two Sundays. And so poor
-starving Tommy Puffer had to carry his pudding-bag of a body home again
-without a chance to give it an extra stuffing.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER XI.
-
-_AN ODD PARTY._
-
-
-I cannot tell you about the giving of the broom-machine to the blind
-broom-maker; of the ton of coal to Parm’ly, and of all the other things
-that happened on Christmas Day when the presents were given. I must
-leave these things out. As for Aunt Parm’ly, she said she did not know,
-but dat dare coal seemed like it come from de sky.
-
-But there was an ample feast yet for the boys at the Sunday-school,
-for many biscuits, and cakes, and pies had been baked. But every time
-Willie looked at the walking stick he thought of “the poor, the maimed,
-the lame, and the blind.” And so he and Sammy Bantam soon set the whole
-school, teachers and all, a-fire with the idea of inviting in the
-inmates of the county poor-house. It was not half so hard to persuade
-the members of the school to do this as it was to coax them to the
-first move; for when people have found out how good it is to do good,
-they like to do good again.
-
-Such a company it was! There was old crazy Newberry, who had a game-bag
-slung about his neck, and who imagined that the little pebbles in it
-were of priceless value. Old Dorothy, who was nearly eighty, and who,
-thanks to the meanness of the authorities, had not tasted any delicacy,
-not so much as a cup of tea, since she had been in the alms-house; and
-there were half-idiots, and whole idiots, and sick people, and crippled
-people, armless people and legless people, blind people and deaf. Such
-an assortment of men, women, and little children, you cannot often
-find. They were fed with the good things provided for the Sunday-school
-children, much to the disgust of Tommy Puffer and his mother. For Tommy
-was bent on getting something to eat here.
-
-There were plenty of people who claimed the credit of suggesting this
-way of spending the Christmas. But Willie did not say anything about
-it, for he remembered what Christ had said about blowing a trumpet
-before you. But I think Sammy Bantam trumpeted Willie’s fame enough.
-
-It would be hard to tell who enjoyed the Christmas the most. But I
-think the givers found it more blessed than the receivers. What talk
-Mr. Blake heard in his rounds I cannot tell. If you want to know, you
-must ask the Old Ebony.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Blake's Walking-Stick, by Edward Eggleston
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-Title: Mr. Blake's Walking-Stick
- A Christmas Story for Boys and Girls
-
-Author: Edward Eggleston
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-Release Date: August 30, 2016 [EBook #52935]
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. BLAKE'S WALKING-STICK ***
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-produced from images generously made available by The
-Internet Archive)
-
-
-
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-
-
-</pre>
-
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a><br />
-<a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="400" height="500" alt="A boy" />
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage larger">MR. BLAKE’S<br />
-<span class="smcap">Walking-Stick</span>:</p>
-
-<p class="titlepage"><span class="smcap"><i>A Christmas Story for Boys and Girls</i></span>.</p>
-
-<p class="titlepage"><span class="smcap">By EDWARD EGGLESTON</span>,</p>
-
-<p class="titlepage smaller">AUTHOR OF<br />
-“THE ROUND TABLE STORIES,” “THE CHICKEN LITTLE STORIES,”<br />
-“STORIES TOLD ON A CELLAR DOOR,” ETC.</p>
-
-<p class="titlepage">CHICAGO:<br />
-ADAMS, BLACKMER, &amp; LYON PUBLISHING CO.<br />
-1872.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
-
-<p class="titlepage">Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870,<br />
-<span class="smcap">By ADAMS, BLACKMER, &amp; LYON PUBLISHING COMPANY</span>,<br />
-In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.</p>
-
-<p class="titlepage smaller">RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE:<br />
-STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY<br />
-H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY.</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-dedication.jpg" width="400" height="150" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="center">TO OUR<br />
-<span class="smcap">Little Silverhair</span><br />
-Who used to listen to My Stories;<br />
-BUT WHO IS NOW<br />
-Listening to the Christmas Stories of the Angels,<br />
-THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
-<img src="images/footer-dedication.jpg" width="150" height="150" alt="Decorative footer" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-preface.jpg" width="400" height="150" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2>PREFACE.</h2>
-
-<p><i>I have meant to furnish a book that would serve
-for a Christmas present to Sunday-scholars, either
-from the school or from their teachers. I hope it
-is a story, however, appropriate to all seasons, and
-that it will enforce one of the most beautiful and
-one of the most frequently forgotten precepts of the
-Lord Jesus.</i></p>
-
-<p class="right">EDWARD EGGLESTON.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
-<img src="images/footer-preface.jpg" width="150" height="150" alt="Decorative footer" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-contents.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
-
-<table summary="Contents">
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">The Walking-Stick Walks</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">Long-Headed Willie</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">The Walking-Stick a Talking Stick</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">Mr. Blake Agrees with the Walking-Stick</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">The Father Preaches, the Son Practices</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">Sixty-five Dollars</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">The Widow and the Fatherless</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span><span class="smcap">Sharps and Betweens</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">The Angel Stays the Hand</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">Tommy Puffer</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td>
- </tr>
- <tr>
- <td><span class="smcap">An Odd Party</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td>
- </tr>
-</table>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
-<img src="images/footer-contents.jpg" width="150" height="150" alt="Decorative footer" />
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-1.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h1><span class="smcap">Mr. Blake’s Walking-Stick.</span></h1>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>THE WALKING-STICK WALKS.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-s.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">Some men carry canes. Some men make
-the canes carry them. I never could tell
-just what Mr. Blake carried his cane for.
-I am sure it did not often feel his weight. For he
-was neither old, nor rich, nor lazy.</p>
-
-<p>He was a tall, straight man, who walked as if he
-loved to walk, with a cheerful tread that was good
-to see. I am sure he didn’t carry the cane for
-show. It was not one of those little sickly yellow
-things, that some men nurse as tenderly as Miss
-Snooks nurses her lap-dog. It was a great black
-stick of solid ebony, with a box-wood head, and I
-think Mr. Blake carried it for company. And it
-had a face, like that of an old man, carved on one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
-side of the box-wood head. Mr. Blake kept it
-ringing in a hearty way upon the pavement as he
-walked, and the boys would look up from their
-marbles when they heard it, and say: “There
-comes Mr. Blake, the minister!” And I think that
-nearly every invalid and poor person in Thornton
-knew the cheerful voice of the minister’s stout ebony
-stick.</p>
-
-<p>It was a clear, crisp, sunshiny morning in December.
-The leaves were all gone, and the long lines
-of white frame houses that were hid away in the
-thick trees during the summer, showed themselves
-standing in straight rows now that the trees were
-bare. And Purser, Pond &amp; Co.’s great factory on
-the brook in the valley below was plainly to be
-seen, with its long rows of windows shining and
-shimmering in the brilliant sun, and its brick
-chimney reached up like the Tower of Babel, and
-poured out a steady stream of dense, black smoke.</p>
-
-<p>It was just such a shining winter morning. Mr.
-Blake and his walking-stick were just starting out for
-a walk together. “It’s a fine morning,” thought the
-minister, as he shut the parsonage gate. And when
-he struck the cane sharply on the stones it answered
-him cheerily: “It’s a fine morning!” The cane<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
-always agreed with Mr. Blake. So they were able
-to walk together, according to Scripture, because
-they were agreed.</p>
-
-<p>Just as he came round the corner the minister
-found a party of boys waiting for him. They had
-already heard the cane remarking that it was a fine
-morning before Mr. Blake came in sight.</p>
-
-<p>“Good morning! Mr. Blake,” said the three
-boys.</p>
-
-<p>“Good morning, my boys; I’m glad to see you,”
-said the minister, and he clapped “Old Ebony”
-down on the sidewalk, and it said “I am glad to see
-you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Mr. Blake!” said Fred White, scratching his
-brown head and looking a little puzzled. “Mr.
-Blake, if it ain’t any harm&mdash;if you don’t mind, you
-know, telling a fellow,&mdash;a boy, I mean&mdash;” Just
-here he stopped talking; for though he kept on
-scratching vigorously, no more words would come;
-and comical Sammy Bantam, who stood alongside,
-whispered, “Keep a-scratching, Fred; the old cow
-will give down after a while!”</p>
-
-<p>Then Fred laughed, and the other boys, and the
-minister laughed, and the cane could do nothing but
-stamp its foot in amusement.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Well, Fred,” said the minister, “What is it?
-speak out.” But Fred couldn’t speak now for
-laughing, and Sammy had to do the talking himself.
-He was a stumpy boy, who had stopped off short;
-and you couldn’t guess his age, because his face was
-so much older than his body.</p>
-
-<p>“You see, Mr. Blake,” said Sammy, “we boys
-wanted to know,&mdash;if there wasn’t any harm in your
-telling,&mdash;why, we wanted to know what kind of a
-thing we are going to have on Christmas at our
-Sunday-school.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well, boys, I don’t know any more about it yet
-than you do. The teachers will talk it over at their
-next meeting. They have already settled some
-things, but I have not heard what.”</p>
-
-<p>“I hope it will be something good to eat,” said
-Tommy Puffer. Tommy’s body looked for all the
-world like a pudding-bag. It was an india-rubber
-pudding-bag, though. I shouldn’t like to say that
-Tommy was a glutton. Not at all. But I am sure
-that no boy of his age could put out of sight, in the
-same space of time, so many dough-nuts, ginger-snaps,
-tea-cakes, apple-dumplings, pumpkin-pies,
-jelly-tarts, puddings, ice-creams, raisins, nuts, and
-other things of the sort. Other people stared at him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
-in wonder. He was never too full to take anything
-that was offered him, and at parties his weak and
-foolish mother was always getting all she could to
-stuff Tommy with. So when Tommy said he hoped
-it would be something nice to eat, and rolled his
-soft lips about, as though he had a cream tart in his
-mouth, all the boys laughed, and Mr. Blake smiled.
-I think even the cane would have smiled if it had
-thought it polite.</p>
-
-<p>“I hope it’ll be something pleasant,” said Fred
-Welch.</p>
-
-<p>“So do I,” said stumpy little Tommy Bantam.</p>
-
-<p>“So do I, boys,” said Mr. Blake, as he turned
-away; and all the way down the block Old Ebony
-kept calling back, “So do I, boys! so do I!”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Blake and his friend the cane kept on down
-the street, until they stood in front of a building
-that was called “The Yellow Row.” It was a long,
-two-story frame building, that had once been inhabited
-by genteel people. Why they ever built it in
-that shape, or why they daubed it with yellow paint,
-is more than I can tell. But it had gone out of
-fashion, and now it was, as the boys expressed it,
-“seedy.” Old hats and old clothes filled many of
-the places once filled by glass. Into one room of
-this row Mr. Blake entered, saying:&mdash;</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“How are you, Aunt Parm’ly?”</p>
-
-<p>“Howd’y, Mr. Blake, howd’y! I know’d you was
-a-comin’, honey, fer I hyeard the sound of yer cane
-afore you come in. I’m mis’able these yer days,
-thank you. I’se got a headache, an’ a backache,
-and a toothache in de boot.”</p>
-
-<p>I suppose the poor old colored woman meant to
-say that she had a toothache “to boot.”</p>
-
-<p>“You see, Mr. Blake, Jane’s got a little sumpin
-to do now, and we can git bread enough, thank the
-Lord, but as fer coal, that’s the hardest of all. We
-has to buy it by the bucketful, and that’s mity high
-at fifteen cents a bucket. An’ pears like we couldn’t
-never git nothin’ a-head on account of my roomatiz.
-Where de coal’s to come from dis ere winter I don’t
-know, cep de good Lord sends it down out of the
-sky and I reckon stone-coal don’t never come dat
-dar road.”</p>
-
-<p>After some more talk, Mr. Blake went in to see
-Peter Sitles, the blind broom-maker.</p>
-
-<p>“I hyeard yer stick, preacher Blake,” said Sitles.
-“That air stick o’ yourn’s better’n a whole rigimint
-of doctors fer the blues. An’ I’ve been a havin’ on
-the blues powerful bad, Mr. Blake, these yer last
-few days. I remembered what you was a-saying the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
-last time you was here, about trustin’ of the good
-Lord. But I’ve had a purty consid’able heartache
-under my jacket fer all that. Now, there’s that Ben
-of mine,” and here Sitles pointed to a restless little
-fellow of nine years old, whose pants had been
-patched and pieced until they had more colors than
-Joseph’s coat. He was barefoot, ragged, and looked
-hungry, as some poor children always do. Their
-minds seem hungrier than their bodies. He was
-rocking a baby in an old cradle. “There’s Ben,”
-continued the blind man, “he’s as peart a boy as
-you ever see, preacher Blake, ef I do say it as hadn’t
-orter say it. Bennie hain’t got no clothes. I can’t
-beg. But Ben orter be in school.” Here Peter
-Sitles choked a little.</p>
-
-<p>“How’s broom-making, Peter?” said the minister.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, you see, it’s the machines as is a-spoiling
-us. The machines make brooms cheap, and what
-can a blind feller like me do agin the machines with
-nothing but my fingers? ’Tain’t no sort o’ use to
-butt my head agin the machines, when I ain’t got no
-eyes nother. It’s like a goat trying its head on a
-locomotive. Ef I could only eddicate Peter and the
-other two, I’d be satisfied. You see, I never had no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
-book-larnin’ myself, and I can’t talk proper no more’n
-a cow can climb a tree.”</p>
-
-<p>“But, Mr. Sitles, how much would a broom-machine
-cost you?” asked the minister.</p>
-
-<p>“More’n it’s any use to think on. It’ll cost seventy
-dollars, and if it cost seventy cents ’twould be
-jest exactly seventy cents more’n I could afford to
-pay. For the money my ole woman gits fer washin’
-don’t go noways at all towards feedin’ the four children,
-let alone buying me a machine.”</p>
-
-<p>The minister looked at his cane, but it did not
-answer him. Something must be done. The minister
-was sure of that. Perhaps the walking-stick
-was, too. But what?</p>
-
-<p>That was the question.</p>
-
-<p>The minister told Sitles good-bye, and started to
-make other visits. And on the way the cane kept
-crying out, “Something <em>must</em> be done,&mdash;something
-<span class="smcapuc">MUST</span> be done,&mdash;something MUST be done,” making
-the <em>must</em> ring out sharper every time. When
-Mr. Blake and the walking-stick got to the market-house,
-just as they turned off from Milk Street into
-the busier Main Street, the cane changed its tune
-and begun to say, “But what,&mdash;but <em>what</em>,&mdash;but
-<span class="smcapuc">WHAT</span>,&mdash;but WHAT,” until it said it so sharply<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
-that the minister’s head ached, and he put Old
-Ebony under his arm, so that it couldn’t talk any
-more. It was a way he had of hushing it up when
-he wanted to think.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
-<img src="images/footer-1.jpg" width="150" height="150" alt="Decorative footer" />
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-2.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>LONG-HEADED WILLIE.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-d.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">“De biskits is cold, and de steaks is cold
-as&mdash;as&mdash;ice, and dinner’s spiled!”
-said Curlypate, a girl about three years
-old, as Mr. Blake came in from his forenoon of
-visiting. She tried to look very much vexed and
-“put out,” but there was always either a smile or
-a cry hidden away in her dimpled cheek.</p>
-
-<p>“Pshaw! Curlypate,” said Mr. Blake, as he put
-down his cane, “you don’t scold worth a cent!”
-And he lifted her up and kissed her.</p>
-
-<p>And then Mamma Blake smiled, and they all sat
-down to the table. While they ate, Mr. Blake told
-about his morning visits, and spoke of Parm’ly without
-coal, and Peter Sitles with no broom-machine,
-and described little Ben Sitles’s hungry face, and
-told how he had visited the widow Martin, who had
-no sewing-machine, and who had to receive help
-from the overseer of the poor. The overseer told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
-her that she must bind out her daughter, twelve
-years old, and her boy of ten, if she expected to
-have any help; and the mother’s heart was just
-about broken at the thought of losing her children.</p>
-
-<p>Now, while all this was taking place, Willie Blake,
-the minister’s son, a boy about thirteen years of age,
-sat by the big porcelain water-pitcher, listening to
-all that was said. His deep blue eyes looked over
-the pitcher at his father, then at his mother, taking
-in all their descriptions of poverty with a wondrous
-pitifulness. But he did not say much. What went
-on in his long head I do not know, for his was one
-of those heads that projected forward and backward,
-and the top of which overhung the base, for all
-the world like a load of hay. Now and then his
-mother looked at him, as if she would like to see
-through his skull and read his thoughts. But I think
-she didn’t see anything but the straight, silken, fine,
-flossy hair, silvery white, touched a little bit,&mdash;only
-a little,&mdash;as he turned it in looking from one to the
-other, with a tinge of what people call a golden, but
-what is really a sort of a pleasant straw color. He
-usually talked, and asked questions, and laughed
-like other boys; but now he seemed to be swallowing
-the words of his father and mother more rapidly even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
-than he did his dinner; for, like most boys, he ate
-as if it were a great waste of time to eat. But when
-he was done he did not hurry off as eagerly as usual
-to reading or to play. He sat and listened.</p>
-
-<p>“What makes you look so sober, Willie?” asked
-Helen, his sister.</p>
-
-<p>“What you thinkin’, Willie?” said Curlypate,
-peering through the pitcher handle at him.</p>
-
-<p>“Willie,” broke in his father, “mamma and I are
-going to a wedding out at Sugar Hill”&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Sugar Hill; O my!” broke in Curlypate.</p>
-
-<p>“Out at Sugar Hill,” continued Mr. Blake, stroking
-the Curlypate, “and as I have some calls to
-make, we shall not be back till bedtime. I am sorry
-to keep you from your play this Saturday afternoon,
-but we have no other housekeeper but you and
-Helen. See that the children get their suppers
-early, and be careful about fire.”</p>
-
-<p>I believe to “be careful about fire” is the last
-command that every parent gives to children on
-leaving them alone.</p>
-
-<p>Now I know that people who write stories are
-very careful nowadays not to make their boys too
-good. I suppose that I ought to represent Willie as
-“taking on” a good deal when he found that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
-couldn’t play all Saturday afternoon, as he had expected.
-But I shall not. For one thing, at least,
-in my story, is true; that is, Willie. If I tell you
-that he is good you may believe it. I have seen
-him.</p>
-
-<p>He only said, “Yes, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Blake did not keep a girl. The minister did
-not get a small fortune of a salary. So it happened
-that Willie knew pretty well how to keep house.
-He was a good brave boy, never ashamed to help
-his mother in a right manly way. He could wash
-dishes and milk the cow, and often, when mamma
-had a sick-headache, had he gotten a good breakfast,
-never forgetting tea and toast for the invalid.</p>
-
-<p>So Sancho, the Canadian pony, was harnessed to
-the minister’s rusty buggy, and Mr. and Mrs. Blake
-got in and told the children good-bye. Then Sancho
-started off, and had gone about ten steps, when
-he was suddenly reined up with a “Whoa!”</p>
-
-<p>“Willie!” said Mr. Blake.</p>
-
-<p>“Sir.”</p>
-
-<p>“Be careful about fire.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
-
-<p>And then old blackey-brown Sancho moved on
-in a gentle trot, and Willie and Helen and Richard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
-went into the house, where Curlypate had already
-gone, and where they found her on tiptoe, with her
-short little fingers in the sugar-bowl, trying in vain
-to find a lump that would not go to pieces in the
-vigorous squeeze that she gave it in her desire to
-make sure of it.</p>
-
-<p>So Willie washed the dishes, while Helen wiped
-them, and Richard put them away, and they had a
-merry time, though Willie had to soothe several
-rising disputes between Helen and Richard. Then
-a glorious lot of wood was gotten in, and Helen
-came near sweeping a hole in the carpet in her eager
-desire to “surprise mamma,” Curlypate went in
-the parlor and piled things up in a wonderful way,
-declaring that she, too, was going to “<em>susprise</em> mamma.”
-And doubtless mamma would have felt no
-little surprise if she could have seen the parlor after
-Curlypate “put it to rights.”</p>
-
-<p>Later in the evening the cow was milked, and a
-plain supper of bread and milk eaten. Then Richard
-and Curlypate were put away for the night.
-And presently Helen, who was bravely determined
-to keep Willie company, found her head trying to
-drop off her shoulders, and so she had to give up
-to the “sand man,” and go to bed.</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-3.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>THE WALKING-STICK A TALKING STICK.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-w.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">Willie was now all by himself. He put on
-more wood, and drew the rocking-chair up
-by the fire, and lay back in it. It was very
-still; he could hear every mouse that moved. The
-stillness seemed to settle clear down to his heart.
-Presently a wagon went clattering by. Then, as the
-sound died away in the distance, it seemed stiller
-than ever. Willie tried to sleep; but he couldn’t.
-He kept listening; and after all he was listening to
-nothing; nothing but that awful clock, that would
-keep up such a tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick. The
-curtains were down, and Willie didn’t dare to raise
-them, or to peep out. He could <em>feel</em> how dark it
-was out doors.</p>
-
-<p>But presently he forgot the stillness. He fell to
-thinking of what Mr. Blake had said at dinner. He
-thought of poor old rheumatic Parm’ly, and her
-single bucket of coal at a time. He thought of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
-blind broom-maker who needed a broom-machine,
-and of the poor widow whose children must be taken
-away because the mother had no sewing-machine.
-All of these thoughts made the night seem dark, and
-they made Willie’s heart heavy. But the thoughts
-kept him company.</p>
-
-<p>Then he wished he was rich, and he thought if he
-were as rich as Captain Purser, who owned the mill,
-he would give away sewing-machines to all poor
-widows who needed them. But pshaw! what was
-the use of wishing? His threadbare pantaloons told
-him how far off he was from being rich.</p>
-
-<p>But he would go to the Polytechnic; he would
-become a civil engineer. He would make a fortune
-some day when he became celebrated. Then he
-would give widow Martin a sewing-machine. This
-was the nice castle in the air that Willie built. But
-just as he put on the last stone a single thought
-knocked it down.</p>
-
-<p>What would become of the widow and her children
-while he was learning to be an engineer and
-making a fortune afterward? And where would he
-get the money to go to the Polytechnic? This last
-question Willie had asked every day for a year or
-two past.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
-<img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="500" height="350" alt="Boy on chaise-lounge looking at walking stick" />
-</div>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Unable to solve this problem, his head grew tired,
-and he lay down on the lounge, saying to himself,
-“Something must be done!”</p>
-
-<p>“Something must be done!” Willie was sure
-somebody spoke. He looked around. There was
-nobody in the room.</p>
-
-<p>“Something <em>must</em> be done!” This time he saw
-in the corner of the room, barely visible in the
-shadow, his father’s cane. The voice seemed to
-come from that corner.</p>
-
-<p>“Something <span class="smcapuc">MUST</span> be done!” Yes, it was the
-cane. He could see its yellow head, and the face
-on one side was toward him. How bright its eyes
-were! It did not occur to Willie just then that
-there was anything surprising in the fact that the
-walking-stick had all at once become a talking
-stick.</p>
-
-<p>“Something MUST be done!” said the cane,
-lifting its one foot up and bringing it down with
-emphasis at the word must. Willie felt pleased
-that the little old man&mdash;I mean the walking-stick&mdash;should
-come to his help.</p>
-
-<p>“I tell you what,” said Old Ebony, hopping out
-of his shady corner; “I tell you what,” it said, and
-then stopped as if to reflect; then finished by saying,
-“It’s a shame!”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Willie was about to ask the cane to what he referred,
-but he thought best to wait till Old Ebony
-got ready to tell of his own accord. But the walking-stick
-did not think best to answer immediately,
-but took entirely a new and surprising track. It
-actually went to quoting Scripture!</p>
-
-<p>“My eyes are dim,” said the cane, “and I never
-had much learning; canes weren’t sent to school
-when I was young. Won’t you read the thirty-fifth
-verse of the twentieth chapter of Acts.”</p>
-
-<p>Willie turned to the stand and saw the Bible open
-at that verse. He did not feel surprised. It seemed
-natural enough to him. He read the verse, not
-aloud, but to himself, for Old Ebony seemed to hear
-his thoughts. He read:&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Ye ought to support the weak, and to remember
-the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is
-more blessed to give than to receive.”</p>
-
-<p>“Now,” said the walking-stick, stepping or hopping
-up toward the lounge and leaning thoughtfully
-over the head of it, “Now, I say that it is a shame
-that when the birthday of that Lord Jesus, who
-gave himself away, and who said it is more blessed
-to give than to receive, comes round, all of you
-Sunday-school scholars are thinking only of what
-you are going to get.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Willie was about to say that they gave as well as
-received on Christmas, and that his class had already
-raised the money to buy a Bible Dictionary for their
-teacher. But Old Ebony seemed to guess his
-thought, and he only said, “And that’s another
-shame!”</p>
-
-<p>Willie couldn’t see how this could be, and he
-thought the walking-stick was using very strong language
-indeed. I think myself the cane spoke too
-sharply, for I don’t think the harm lies in giving to
-and receiving from our friends, but in neglecting the
-poor. But you don’t care what I think, you want to
-know what the cane said.</p>
-
-<p>“I’m pretty well acquainted with Scripture,” said
-Old Ebony, “having spent fourteen years in company
-with a minister. Now won’t you please read
-the twelfth and thirteenth verses of the fourteenth
-chapter of”&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>But before the cane could finish the sentence,
-Willie heard some one opening the door. It was
-his father. He looked round in bewilderment. The
-oil in the lamp had burned out, and it was dark.
-The fire was low, and the room chilly.</p>
-
-<p>“Heigh-ho, Willie, my son,” said Mr. Blake,
-“where’s your light, and where’s your fire. This is
-a cold reception. What have you been doing?”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Listening to the cane talk,” he replied; and
-thinking what a foolish answer that was, he put on
-some more coal, while his mother, who was lighting
-the lamp, said he must have been dreaming. The
-walking-stick stood in its corner, face to the wall, as
-if it had never been a talking stick.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
-<img src="images/footer-3.jpg" width="150" height="225" alt="Decorative footer" />
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-4.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>MR. BLAKE AGREES WITH THE WALKING-STICK.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-e.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">Early on Sunday morning Willie awoke
-and began to think about Sitles, and to
-wish he had money to buy him a broom-machine.
-And then he thought of widow Martin.
-But all his thinking would do no good. Then he
-thought of what Old Ebony had said, and he wished
-he could know what that text was that the cane was
-just going to quote.</p>
-
-<p>“It was,” said Willie, “the twelfth and thirteenth
-verses of the fourteenth chapter of something. I’ll
-see.”</p>
-
-<p>So he began with the beginning of the Bible, and
-looked first at Genesis xiv. 12, 13. But it was about
-the time when Abraham had heard of the capture of
-Lot and mustered his army to recapture him. He
-thought a minute.</p>
-
-<p>“That can’t be what it is,” said Willie, “I’ll look
-at Exodus.”</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>In Exodus it was about standing still at the Red
-Sea and waiting for God’s salvation. It might mean
-that God would deliver the poor. But that was not
-just what the cane was talking about. It was about
-giving gifts to friends. So he went on to Leviticus.
-But it was about the wave offering, and the sin
-offering, and the burnt offering. That was not it.
-And so he went from book to book until he had
-reached the twelfth and thirteenth verses of the fourteenth
-chapter of the book of Judges. He was just
-reading in that place about Samson’s riddle, when
-his mamma called him to breakfast.</p>
-
-<p>He was afraid to say anything about it at the
-table for fear of being laughed at. But he was full of
-what the walking-stick said. And at family worship
-his father read the twentieth chapter of Acts. When
-he came to the part about its being more blessed to
-give than to receive, Willie said, “That’s what the
-cane said.”</p>
-
-<p>“What did you say?” asked his father.</p>
-
-<p>“I was only thinking out loud,” said Willie.</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t think out loud while I am reading,” said
-Mr. Blake.</p>
-
-<p>Willie did not find time to look any further for
-the other verses. He wished his father had happened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
-on them instead of the first text which the
-cane quoted.</p>
-
-<p>In church he kept thinking all the time about the
-cane. “Now what could it mean by the twelfth
-and thirteenth verses of the fourteenth chapter?
-There isn’t anything in the Bible against giving
-away presents to one’s friends. It was only a dream
-anyhow, and maybe there’s nothing in it.”</p>
-
-<p>But he forgot the services, I am sorry to say, in
-his thoughts. At last Mr. Blake arose to read his
-text. Willie looked at him, but thought of what the
-cane said. But what was it that attracted his attention
-so quickly?</p>
-
-<p>“The twelfth and thirteenth verses”&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Twelfth and thirteenth!” said Willie to himself.</p>
-
-<p>“Of the fourteenth chapter,” said the minister.</p>
-
-<p>“Fourteenth chapter!” said Willie, almost aloud.</p>
-
-<p>“Of Luke.”</p>
-
-<p>Willie was all ears, while Mr. Blake read: “Then
-said he also to him that bade him, When thou makest
-a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor
-thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich
-neighbors, lest they also bid thee again, and a
-recompense be made thee. But when thou makest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
-a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the
-blind.”</p>
-
-<p>“That’s it!” he said, half aloud, but his mother
-jogged him.</p>
-
-<p>The minister added the next verse also, and read:
-“And thou shalt be blessed, for they cannot recompense
-thee; for thou shalt be recompensed at the
-resurrection of the just.”</p>
-
-<p>Willie had never listened to a sermon as he did
-to that. He stopped two or three times to wonder
-whether the cane had been actually about to repeat
-his father’s text to him, or whether he had not heard
-his father repeat it at some time, and had dreamed
-about it.</p>
-
-<p>I am not going to tell you much about Mr.
-Blake’s sermon. It was a sermon that he and the
-walking-stick had prepared while they were going
-round among the poor. I think Mr. Blake did not
-strike his cane down on the sidewalk for nothing.
-Most of that sermon must have been hammered out
-in that way, when he and the walking-stick were
-saying, “Something must be done!” For that was
-just what that sermon said. It told about the wrong
-of forgetting, on the birthday of Christ, to do anything
-for the poor. It made everybody think. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
-Mr. Blake did not know how much of that sermon
-went into Willie Blake’s long head, as he sat
-there with his white full forehead turned up to his
-father.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
-<img src="images/footer-4.jpg" width="150" height="225" alt="Decorative footer" />
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-5.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>THE FATHER PREACHES AND THE SON PRACTICES.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">That afternoon, Willie was at Sunday-school
-long before the time. He had a plan.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll tell you what, boys,” said he,
-“let’s not give Mr. Marble anything this year;
-and let’s ask him not to give us anything. Let’s
-get him to put the money he would use for us with
-the money we should spend on a present for him,
-and give it to buy coal for Old Aunt Parm’ly.”</p>
-
-<p>“I mean to spend all my money on soft gum
-drops and tarts,” said Tommy Puffer; “they’re
-splendid!” and with that he began, as usual, to roll
-his soft lips together in a half chewing, half sucking
-manner, as if he had a half dozen cream tarts under
-his tongue, and two dozen gum drops in his cheeks.</p>
-
-<p>“Tommy,” said stumpy little Sammy Bantam,
-“it’s a good thing you didn’t live in Egypt, Tommy,
-in the days of Joseph.”</p>
-
-<p>“Why?” asked Tommy.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>“Because,” said Sammy, looking around the room
-absently, as if he hardly knew what he was going
-to say, “because, you see”&mdash;and then he opened
-a book and began to read, as if he had forgotten to
-finish the sentence.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, why?” demanded Tommy, sharply.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, because if Joseph had had to feed you
-during the seven years of plenty, there wouldn’t
-have been a morsel left for the years of famine!”</p>
-
-<p>The boys laughed as boys will at a good shot, and
-Tommy reddened a little and said, regretfully, that
-he guessed the Egyptians hadn’t any dough-nuts.</p>
-
-<p>Willie did not forget his main purpose, but carried
-his point in his own class. He still had time to
-speak to some of the boys and girls in other classes.
-Everybody liked to do what Willie asked; there was
-something sweet and strong in his blue eyes, eyes
-that “did not seem to have any bottom, they were
-so deep,” one of the girls said. Soon there was an
-excitement in the school, and about the door; girls
-and boys talking and discussing, but as soon as any
-opposition came up Willie’s half coaxing but decided
-way bore it down. I think he was much helped by
-Sammy’s wit, which was all on his side. It was
-agreed, finally, that whatever scholars meant to give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
-to teachers, or teachers to scholars, should go to the
-poor.</p>
-
-<p>The teachers caught the enthusiasm, and were
-very much in favor of the project, for in the whole
-movement they saw the fruit of their own teaching.</p>
-
-<p>The superintendent had been detained, and was
-surprised to find the school standing in knots about
-the room. He soon called them to order, and expressed
-his regrets that they should get into such
-disorder. There was a smile on all faces, and he
-saw that there was something more in the apparent
-disorder than he thought. After school it was fixed
-that each class should find its own case of poverty.
-The young men’s and the young women’s Bible
-classes undertook to supply Sitles with a broom-machine,
-a class of girls took Aunt Parm’ly under
-their wing, other classes knew of other cases of need,
-and so each class had its hands full. But Willie
-could not get any class to see that Widow Martin
-had a sewing-machine. That was left for his own;
-and how should a class of eight boys do it?</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-6.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>SIXTY-FIVE DOLLARS.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-w.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">Willie took the boys into the parsonage.
-They figured on it. There were sixty-five
-dollars to be raised to buy the machine.
-The seven boys were together, for Tommy Puffer had
-gone home. He said he didn’t feel like staying,
-and Sammy Bantam thought he must be a little
-hungry.</p>
-
-<p>Willie attacked the problem, sixty-five dollars.
-Toward that amount they had three dollars and
-a half that they had intended to spend on a present
-for Mr. Marble. That left just sixty-one dollars and
-fifty cents to be raised. Willie ran across the street
-and brought Mr. Marble. He said he had made up
-his mind to give the boys a book apiece, and that
-each book would cost a dollar. It was rather more
-than he could well afford; but as he had intended to
-give eight dollars for their presents, and as he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
-pleased with their unselfish behavior, he would
-make it ten.</p>
-
-<p>“Good!” said Charley Somerset, who always saw
-the bright side of things,“that makes it all, except
-fifty-one dollars and a half.”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes,” said Sammy Bantam, “and you’re eleven
-feet high, lacking a couple of yards!”</p>
-
-<p>Willie next called his father in, and inquired how
-much his Christmas present was to cost.</p>
-
-<p>“Three and a half,” said his father.</p>
-
-<p>“That’s a lot! Will you give me the money instead?”</p>
-
-<p>“Yes; but I meant to give you a Life of George
-Stephenson, and some other books on engineering.”</p>
-
-<p>This made Willie think a moment; but seeing the
-walking-stick in the corner, he said: “Mrs. Martin
-must have a machine, and that three and a half
-makes seventeen dollars. How to get the other
-forty-eight is the question.”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Blake and Mr. Marble both agreed that the
-boys could not raise so much money, and should not
-undertake it. But Willie said there was nobody to
-do it, and he guessed it would come somehow. The
-other boys, when they came to church that evening,
-told Willie that their presents were commuted for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
-money also; so they had twenty-five dollars toward
-the amount. But that was the end of it, and there
-were forty dollars yet to come!</p>
-
-<p>Willie lay awake that night, thinking. Mr. Marble’s
-class could not raise the money. All the other
-classes had given all they could. And the teachers
-would each give in their classes. And they had
-raised all they could spare besides to buy nuts and
-candy! Good! That was just it; they would do
-without candy!</p>
-
-<p>At school the next morning, Willie’s white head
-was bobbing about eagerly. He made every boy
-and girl sign a petition, asking the teachers not to
-give them any nuts or candy. They all signed
-except Tommy Puffer. He said it was real mean
-not to have any candy. They might just as well
-not have any Sunday-school, or any Christmas
-either. But seeing a naughty twinkle in Sammy
-Bantam’s eye, he waddled away, while Sammy fired
-a shot after him, by remarking that, if Tommy had
-been one of the Shepherds in Bethlehem, he
-wouldn’t have listened to the angels till he had
-inquired if they had any lemon-drops in their
-pockets!</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>That night the extra Teachers’ Meeting was held,
-and in walked white-headed Willie with stunted
-Sammy Bantam at his heels to keep him in countenance.
-When their petition was presented, Miss
-Belden, who sat near Willie, said, “Well done!
-Willie.”</p>
-
-<p>“But I protest,” said Mrs. Puffer,&mdash;who was of
-about as handsome a figure as her son,&mdash;“I protest
-against such an outrage on the children. My Tommy’s
-been a-feeling bad about it all day. It’ll break
-his heart if he don’t get some candy.”</p>
-
-<p>Willie was shy, but for a moment he forgot it,
-and, turning his intelligent blue eyes on Mrs. Puffer,
-he said,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“It will break Mrs. Martin’s heart if her children
-are taken away from her.”</p>
-
-<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Puffer, “I always did hear that
-the preacher’s boy was the worst in the parish, and
-I won’t take any impudence. My son will join the
-Mission School, where they aren’t too stingy to
-give him a bit of candy!” And Mrs. Puffer left,
-and everybody was pleased.</p>
-
-<p>Willie got the money; but the teachers had
-counted on making up their festival mostly with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
-cakes and other dainties, contributed by families.
-So that the candy money was only sixteen dollars,
-and Willie was yet a long way off from having the
-amount he needed. Twenty-four dollars were yet
-wanting.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
-<img src="images/footer-6.jpg" width="150" height="150" alt="Decorative footer" />
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-7.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-t.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">The husband of widow Martin had been
-killed by a railroad accident. The family
-were very poor. Mrs. Martin could sew,
-and she could have sustained her family if she had
-had a machine. But fingers are not worth much
-against iron wheels. And so, while others had machines,
-Mrs. Martin could not make much without
-one. She had been obliged to ask help from the
-overseer of the poor.</p>
-
-<p>Mr Lampeer, the overseer, was a hard man. He
-had not skill enough to detect impostors, and so he
-had come to believe that everybody who was poor
-was rascally. He had but one eye, and he turned
-his head round in a curious way to look at you out
-of it. That dreadful one eye always seemed to be
-going to shoot. His voice had not a chord of tenderness
-in it, but was in every way harsh and hard. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
-was said that he had been a schoolmaster once. I
-pity the scholars.</p>
-
-<p>Widow Martin lived&mdash;if you could call it living&mdash;in
-a tumble-down looking house, that would not
-have stood many earthquakes. She had tried diligently
-to support her family and keep them together;
-but the wolf stood always at the door. Sewing by
-hand did not bring in quite money enough to buy
-bread and clothes for four well children, and pay
-the expenses of poor little Harry’s sickness; for all
-through the summer and fall Harry had been sick.
-At last the food was gone, and there was nothing
-to buy fuel with. Mrs. Martin had to go to the
-overseer of the poor.</p>
-
-<p>She was a little, shy, hard-working woman, this
-Mrs. Martin; so when she took her seat among the
-paupers of every sort in Mr. Lampeer’s office, and
-waited her turn, it was with a trembling heart. She
-watched the hard man, who didn’t mean to be so
-hard, but who couldn’t tell the difference between
-a good face and a counterfeit; she watched him as
-he went through with the different cases, and her
-heart beat every minute more and more violently.
-When he came to her he broke out with&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“What’s <em>your</em> name?” in a voice that sounded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
-for all the world as if he were accusing her of robbing
-a safe.</p>
-
-<p>“Sarah Martin,” said the widow, trembling with
-terror, and growing red and white in turns. Mr.
-Lampeer, who was on the lookout for any sign of
-guiltiness, was now sure that Mrs. Martin could not
-be honest.</p>
-
-<p>“Where do you live?” This was spoken with a
-half sneer.</p>
-
-<p>“In Slab Alley,” whispered the widow, for her
-voice was scared out of her.</p>
-
-<p>“How many children have you got?”</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Martin gave him the list of her five, with
-their ages, telling him of little Harry, who was six
-years old and an invalid.</p>
-
-<p>“Your oldest is twelve and a girl. I have a place
-for her, and, I think, for the boy, too. You must
-bind them out. Mr. Slicker, the landlord of the
-Farmers’ Hotel, will take the girl, and I think James
-Sweeny will take the boy to run errands about the
-livery stable. I’ll send you some provisions and
-coal to-day; but you must let the children go. I’ll
-come to your house in a few days. Don’t object; I
-won’t hear a word. If you’re as poor as you let on
-to be, you’ll be glad enough to get your young ones<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
-into places where they’ll get enough to eat. That’s
-all, not a word, now.” And he turned to the next
-applicant, leaving the widow to go home with her
-heart <em>so</em> cold.</p>
-
-<p>Let Susie go to Slicker’s tavern! What kind of a
-house would it be without her? Who would attend
-to the house while she sewed? And what would
-become of her girl in such a place? And then to
-send George, who had to wait on Harry, to send
-him away forever was to shut out all hope of ever
-being in better circumstances. Then she could not
-sew, and the children could never help her. God
-pity the people that fall into the hands of public
-charity!</p>
-
-<p>The next few days wore heavily on with the
-widow. What to do she did not know. At night
-she scarcely slept at all. When she did drop into a
-sleep, she dreamed that her children were starving,
-and woke in fright. Then she slept again, and
-dreamed that a one-eyed robber had gotten in at the
-window, and was carrying off Susie and George.
-At last morning came. The last of the food was
-eaten for breakfast, and widow Martin sat down to
-wait. Her mind was in a horrible state of doubt.
-To starve to death together, or to give up her children!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
-That was the question which many a poor
-mother’s heart has had to decide. Mrs. Martin soon
-became so nervous she could not sew. She could
-not keep back the tears, and when Susie and George
-put their arms about her neck and asked what was
-the matter, it made the matter worse. It was the
-day before Christmas. The sleigh-bells jingled merrily.
-Even in Slab Alley one could hear sounds of
-joy at the approaching festivities. But there was
-no joy in Widow Martin’s house or heart. The
-dinner hour had come and passed. The little children
-were hungry. And yet Mrs. Martin had not
-made up her mind.</p>
-
-<p>At the appointed time Lampeer came. He took
-out the two indentures with which the mother was
-to sign away all right to her two eldest children. It
-was in vain that the widow told him that if she lost
-them she could do no work for her own support, and
-must be forever a pauper. Lampeer had an idea
-that no poor person had a right to love children.
-Parental love was, in his eyes, or his eye, an expensive
-luxury that none but the rich should indulge in.</p>
-
-<p>“Mrs. Martin,” he said, “you may either sign
-these indentures, by which your girl will get a good
-place as a nurse and errand girl for the tavern-keeper’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
-wife, and your boy will have plenty to eat
-and get to be a good hostler, or you and your brats
-may starve!” With that he took his hat and opened
-the door.</p>
-
-<p>“Stop!” said Mrs. Martin, “I must have medicine
-and food, or Harry will not live till Sunday. I
-will sign.”</p>
-
-<p>The papers were again spread out. The poor-master
-jerked the folds out of them impatiently, in a
-way that seemed to say, “You keep me an unconscionable
-long time about a very small matter.”</p>
-
-<p>When the papers were spread out, Mrs. Martin’s
-two oldest children, who began to understand what
-was going on, cried bitterly. Mrs. Martin took the
-pen and was about to sign. But it was necessary to
-have two witnesses, and so Lampeer took his hat and
-called a neighbor-woman, for the second witness.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Martin delayed the signature as long as she
-could. But seeing no other help, she took up the
-pen. She thought of Abraham with the knife in his
-hand. She hoped that an angel would call out of
-heaven to her relief. But as there was no voice from
-heaven, she dipped the pen in the ink.</p>
-
-<p>Just then some one happened to knock at the door,
-and the poor woman’s nerves were so weak that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
-let the pen fall, and sank into a chair. Lampeer,
-who stood near the door, opened it with an impatient
-jerk, and&mdash;did the angel of deliverance enter?</p>
-
-<p>It was only Willie Blake and Sammy Bantam.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
-<img src="images/footer-7.jpg" width="150" height="150" alt="Decorative footer" />
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-8.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>SHARPS AND BETWEENS.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-l.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">Let us go back. We left Willie awhile ago
-puzzling over that twenty-four dollars.
-After many hours of thought and talk
-with Sammy about how they should manage it, two
-gentlemen gave them nine dollars, and so there was
-but fifteen more to be raised. But that fifteen
-seemed harder to get than the fifty they had already
-gotten. At last Willie thought of something. They
-would try the sewing-machine man. Mr. Sharps
-would throw off fifteen dollars.</p>
-
-<p>But they did not know Mr. Sharps. Though he
-made more than fifteen dollars on the machine, he
-hated to throw anything off. He was always glad to
-put on. Sammy described him by saying that “Mr.
-Sharps was not for-giving but he was for-getting.”</p>
-
-<p>They talked; they told the story; they begged.
-Mr. Sharps really could not afford to throw off a
-cent. He was poor. Taxes were high. He gave a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
-great deal. (I do not know what he called a great
-deal. He had been to church three times in a year,
-and twice he had put a penny in the plate. I suppose
-Mr. Sharps thought that a great deal. And so
-it was, for him, poor fellow.) And then the butcher
-had raised the price of meat; and he had to pay
-twenty-three dollars for a bonnet for his daughter.
-Really, he was too poor. So the boys went away
-down-hearted.</p>
-
-<p>But Sammy went straight to an uncle of his, who
-was one of the editors of the <i>Thornton Daily Bugle</i>.
-After a private talk with him he started back to Mr.
-Sharps. Willie followed Sammy this time. What
-Sammy had in his head Willie could not make out.</p>
-
-<p>“I’ll fix him!” That was the only word Sammy
-uttered on the way back.</p>
-
-<p>“Now, Mr. Sharps,” he began, “my uncle’s name
-is Josiah Penn. Maybe you know him. He’s one
-of the editors of the <i>Thornton Daily Bugle</i>. I’ve
-been talking with him. If you let me have a Feeler
-and Stilson sewing-machine for fifty dollars, I will
-have a good notice put in the <i>Daily Bugle</i>.”</p>
-
-<p>Mr. Sharps whistles a minute. He thought he
-could not do it. No, he was too poor.</p>
-
-<p>“Well, then, Willie,” said Sammy, “we’ll go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
-across the street and try the agent of the Hillrocks
-and Nibbs machine. I think Mr. Betweens will
-take my offer.”</p>
-
-<p>“O!” said Mr. Sharps, “you don’t want that
-machine. It’s only a single thread, and it will ravel,
-and&mdash;well&mdash;you don’t want that.”</p>
-
-<p>“Indeed, my mother says there isn’t a pin to
-choose between them,” said Sammy; “and I can
-give Mr. Betweens just as good a notice as I could
-give you.”</p>
-
-<p>“Very well, take the machine for fifty dollars. I
-do it just out of pity for the widow, you know. I
-never could stand by and see suffering and not relieve
-it. You won’t forget about that notice in the
-<i>Daily Bugle</i>, though, will you?”</p>
-
-<p>No, Sammy wouldn’t forget.</p>
-
-<p>It was now the day before Christmas, and the
-boys thought they had better get the machine down
-there.</p>
-
-<p>So they found Billy Horton, who belonged to
-their class, and who drove an express wagon, and
-told him about it. He undertook to take it down.
-But first, he drove around the town and picked up
-all the boys of the class, that they might share in
-the pleasure.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
-
-<p>Meantime, a gentleman who had heard of Willie’s
-efforts, gave him a five dollar bill for widow Martin.
-This Willie invested in provisions, which he instructed
-the grocer to send to the widow.</p>
-
-<p>He and Sammy hurried down to widow Martin’s,
-and got there, as I told you in the last chapter, just
-as she was about to sign away all right, title, and
-interest in two of the children whom God had given
-her; to sign them away at the command of the hard
-Mr. Lampeer, who was very much irritated that he
-should be interrupted just at the moment when he
-was about to carry the point; for he loved to carry
-a point better than to eat his breakfast.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
-<img src="images/footer-8.jpg" width="150" height="150" alt="Decorative footer" />
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-9.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>THE ANGEL STAYS THE HAND.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-w.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">When the boys came in, they told the widow
-that they wished to speak with little sick
-Harry. They talked to Harry awhile,
-without noticing what was going on in the other
-part of the room.</p>
-
-<p>Presently Willie felt his arm pulled. Looking
-round, he saw Susie’s tearful face. “Please don’t
-let mother give me and George away.” Somehow
-all the children in school had the habit of coming to
-this long-headed Willie for help, and to him Susie
-came.</p>
-
-<p>That word of Susie’s awakened Willie. Up to
-that moment he had not thought what Mr. Lampeer
-was there for. Now he saw Mrs. Martin holding the
-pen with trembling hand, and making motions in
-the air preparatory to writing her name. Most people
-not used to writing, write in the air before they
-touch the paper. When Willie saw this, he flew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
-across the room and thrust his hand upon the place
-where the name ought to be, saying,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“Don’t do that, Mrs. Martin! Don’t give away
-your children!”</p>
-
-<p>Poor woman! the pen dropped from her hand as
-the knife had dropped from Abraham’s. She grasped
-Willie’s arm, saying,&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“How can I help it? Do tell me!”</p>
-
-<p>But Lampeer had grasped the other arm, and
-broke out with&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>“You rogue, what do you mean?”</p>
-
-<p>Willie’s fine blue eyes turned quickly into Lampeer’s
-one muddy eye.</p>
-
-<p>“Let go!” he said, very quietly but very determinedly,
-“don’t strike me, or my father will take
-the law on you.”</p>
-
-<p>Lampeer let go.</p>
-
-<p>Just then the groceries came, and a minute later,
-Billy Horton’s wagon drove up with the machine,
-and all the other boys, who came in and shook hands
-with the poor but delighted mother and her children.
-I cannot tell you any more about that scene. I only
-know that Lampeer went out angry and muttering.</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-10.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>TOMMY PUFFER.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-w.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">Willie was happy that night. He went
-down to the festival at the Mission.
-There was Tommy Puffer’s soft, oyster-like
-body among the scholars of the Mission. He
-was waiting for something good. His mouth and
-eyes were watering. He looked triumphantly at the
-boys from the other school. They wouldn’t get anything
-so nice. The superintendent announced that
-no boy’s name would be called for a paper bag of
-“refreshments” but those who had been present
-two Sundays. And so poor starving Tommy Puffer
-had to carry his pudding-bag of a body home again
-without a chance to give it an extra stuffing.</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
-<img src="images/header-11.jpg" width="400" height="120" alt="Decorative header" />
-</div>
-
-<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br />
-<span class="smaller"><i>AN ODD PARTY.</i></span></h2>
-
-<div>
-<img class="dropcap" src="images/dropcap-i.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="dropcap">I cannot tell you about the giving of
-the broom-machine to the blind broom-maker;
-of the ton of coal to Parm’ly,
-and of all the other things that happened on
-Christmas Day when the presents were given. I
-must leave these things out. As for Aunt Parm’ly,
-she said she did not know, but dat dare coal seemed
-like it come from de sky.</p>
-
-<p>But there was an ample feast yet for the boys at
-the Sunday-school, for many biscuits, and cakes, and
-pies had been baked. But every time Willie looked
-at the walking stick he thought of “the poor, the
-maimed, the lame, and the blind.” And so he and
-Sammy Bantam soon set the whole school, teachers
-and all, a-fire with the idea of inviting in the inmates
-of the county poor-house. It was not half so hard to
-persuade the members of the school to do this as it
-was to coax them to the first move; for when people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
-have found out how good it is to do good, they like
-to do good again.</p>
-
-<p>Such a company it was! There was old crazy
-Newberry, who had a game-bag slung about his neck,
-and who imagined that the little pebbles in it were
-of priceless value. Old Dorothy, who was nearly
-eighty, and who, thanks to the meanness of the authorities,
-had not tasted any delicacy, not so much
-as a cup of tea, since she had been in the alms-house;
-and there were half-idiots, and whole idiots,
-and sick people, and crippled people, armless people
-and legless people, blind people and deaf. Such
-an assortment of men, women, and little children,
-you cannot often find. They were fed with the good
-things provided for the Sunday-school children, much
-to the disgust of Tommy Puffer and his mother.
-For Tommy was bent on getting something to eat
-here.</p>
-
-<p>There were plenty of people who claimed the
-credit of suggesting this way of spending the Christmas.
-But Willie did not say anything about it, for
-he remembered what Christ had said about blowing
-a trumpet before you. But I think Sammy Bantam
-trumpeted Willie’s fame enough.</p>
-
-<p>It would be hard to tell who enjoyed the Christmas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
-the most. But I think the givers found it more
-blessed than the receivers. What talk Mr. Blake
-heard in his rounds I cannot tell. If you want to
-know, you must ask the Old Ebony.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
-<img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="300" height="500" alt="Old Ebony, leaning against a wall" />
-</div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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