Chapter XVII: Experiments of More Kinds Than One (4)

St. Francis de Sales says: "L'état de la redemption vaut cent fois plus que l'état de la justice originalle." "The state of redemption is a hundred times preferable to the state of original justice." [Footnote 167] The church herself, in her sublime hymn _Exultet_, breaks out into the exclamation: "O certé necessarium Adae peccatum; O felix culpa! quae tantum et talem habere meruit Redemptorem!" "O certainly necessary sin of Adam; O happy fault! which merited to know such and so great a redeemer!" We reason to lament our lost paradise, or to mourn over the fall of our first parents. Our new birth in Christ is far better than that ancient inheritance forfeited in Eden. The consideration of the mystery of redemption must be postponed, however for a future number.

[Footnote 167: This thought has been beautifully developed by Mr.
Simpson in some Essays on Original Sin, published in The Rambler]

----------

{533}

Original.

MY CHRISTMAS TREE.

The Christmas logs were blazing bright, the house was all aglow,
Five little stockings brimming full were hanging in a row;
The balls of golden, silver, red, upon the Christmas tree,
Like fire-flies glancing through the green, were shining merrily,
And gifts for May and Josey, and for Maggie, Kate, and Will,
From bending top to sturdy root, the swaying branches fill;
And I, my labors all complete, sat watching through the night,
For well I knew that busy feet, before the morning-light,
Would patter, patter down the stairs in merry Christmas glee,
And warm and bright as love could make, must their first welcome be.
The while I mused upon their joy, with eyes fixed on the door.
The fairest form I ere had seen glided the threshold o'er--
A sweet and gentle maiden "waxen little past the child,"
And close upon her steps a man of visage grave and mild.
As the fair maiden nearer drew, I saw her small hands prest
The loveliest new-born baby that e'er slept on mortal breast--
Albeit, five fair little buds had blossomed on mine own,
Such winning grace of perfectness mine heart had never known.
Adown, in sudden rapture caught, I fell on bended knee.
For Jesus and Saint Mary and Saint Joseph were with me!
The Maiden Mother gently bent, and in my trembling hands
Laid little baby-Jesus, wrapt up in his swaddling bands.
"Give rest and food and shelter unto him who for your sake
Hath reft himself of all things," thus the Maiden Mother spake;
"Each Christmas eve we, journeying, as once in Bethlehem,
At every Christian door-step ask for shelter, as of them
Who in my mother's maiden home had room for all save him
Before whose throne of living light bow down the seraphim.
And oft times now, as on that night, rejected, we depart.
As though they were Judean inns, from many a Christian heart.
With warmth and light and merry feasts ye hail his natal-day,
But who have place for Jesus Christ who in the manger lay?
Mosttimes the doors are closely barred, the fire-light is grown dim,
And few who watch as now you watch, keep watch or ward for _him_."

Her tones were tender, sweet, and low, but through the crust of years
They found the blessed, blessed fount of humble, contrite tears;
And as they overflowed mine eyes, and plashed upon his head,
The baby woke to life and warmth, who seemed so cold and dead;
And pointing where a little gift for "Christ's poor" lowly lay
Beneath the tree so richly bowed, he smiled, and passed away.
Ah! me, how little seemed the share that I had laid aside
To give to him who for our sake was born and crucified!
_He_ held back naught, the last red drop flowed out for you and me:
Oh! surely he should have the best on every Christmas tree.

Genevieve Sales.

----------

{534}

Translated from the German.

THE LITTLE BIRDS ON CHRISTMAS DAY.

On holy Christmas morning there was a grand assemblage of little birds behind the elder-tree yonder which stands between the court-yard and the garden, flanked on one side by the barn and on the other by heaps of grain that had found no shelter in the granary--so rich had been the blessings of the Lord!

The sparrow with his house and generation was very fully represented in the meeting; and all who belonged to his family puffed out their feathers and sat looking as if something vexatious had befallen them.

The lark, sitting between the furrows in the field hard by, raised himself up a little way now and again, warbling a short kyrie or gloria as his thoughts came and went.

Finches and goldhammers were there in great spirits, as usual; and the blackbird perched now inside the court-wall, now on the outside; then he flew down to the brook, ducked down and up again, flew up into the tree with the other birds, and praised the cold-water-cure, which makes one feel right fresh and joyful as nothing else can.

Ravens and crows and the rest of the grab-alls, who are for ever finding what no one has lost, crowded close together on the grain-stacks in deep and loud discussion.

But the sparrow began to bewail his fate thus: "I have been sadly disturbed in my night's rest, for before daybreak all the bells in the steeples began to ring as if for fire. I flew out into the darkness; and all around the houses looked bright, as if they were on fire within. Many tiny candles were lighted, and the trees on which they burned were covered with all kinds of fruit, such as I never have seen together on one tree. But we enjoy nothing of all this. Our trees are bare enough, and have not even leaves to screen us from this winter's cold. We shall starve to death or freeze, when once food becomes scarcer and the cold more piercing."

But the lark in the field scratched up a few worms which a mole had tossed out with the earth; and the blackbird helped her to choose some little worms, and that was their breakfast.

The shepherd drove his flocks through the narrow path, while thorn-bushes on each side, and the blackberry briers and wild-rose bushes, who had heard the birds' complaint, stretched their branches across the way, so that the little sheep left locks of wool upon them, some more, some less, but never enough to do them any harm. But the birds were behind them, and gathered up the wool and carried it to their homes, in the knot-holes of trees or crevices of walls or hollows of the earth, and there they grew warmer warmer. Then, as they picked at the wool, red hips, which the cold had made sweet and soft, peeped out, and they ate them with joyful hearts.

Again rang out the bells from tower and steeple; the houses-door opened, and the family came fourth; maid-servants first, then sons and daughters, and, to close up the procession, the housewife and the farmer.

"Father," said the eldest son, "it will fare ill with our corn-stacks in the field if, before going to church, we do not shoot in among the feathered gentry yonder, who have torn the outer coverings already, and will soon make their way in among the unthreshed grain. The magpies willingly read where they have not sown. They cluster here from the whole neighborhood. Gladly would I give them a few leaden peas for food, and silence their chattering for ever."

{535}

"By no means," replied the farmer. "No shot shall be fired during this blessed Christmas season--on the gracious birthday of him who overthrew indeed the tables of the money-changers, and made a scourge of cords to drive out both buyer and seller from his temple, but only said to those who sold doves, 'Take them hence.' He did not blame the poor little doves; and never, on this day, when dumb beasts gave up to him their manger for the cradle because men found no room for him in the inn, never shall any creature find death in my fields for the sake of a few blades of grass or kernels of grain."

But the farmer's wife had already turned back, and one of the lads was, at her command, strewing a whole sheaf of grain before the house-front. So generously did he scatter the food to the doves and poultry, that there was enough and to spare for their neighbors on the elder-tree, and magpie and raven had a fair share without being envied by hens or disturbed by men. Thus in the court-yard was there also a little of that "peace on earth" of which angels sang one Christmas night upon the plains of Bethlehem. Nor did the farmer lack anything in hay-loft or granary because the little birds of heaven had been fed from his table that blessed Christmas morning.

Remember this: on Christmas feed the poor birds before thy door, and if thou seest neither lark nor blackbird, nor yet finches, gold-hammers, nor tomtits, then think of those who have no feathers, of poor human creatures. Forget not that the angel of the Lord said to the shepherds: "You will find the child wrapped in swaddling-clothes, and lying in a manger." Seek out the swaddling-clothes of poverty, and if thou walkest by that light which rose over Bethlehem, then shalt thou find in those swaddling-clothes and in works of mercy the little child Jesus!

Mark this: if thou wouldst be happy, then must thou make others happy!

Remember: because Jesus came to the poor, therefore shouldst thou go to the poor.

----------

Original.

BARABBAS AND I.

BABABBAS.

"Strange that the Jews should set me free,
And let this Jesus die for me!
I have their brethren robbed and slain:
He brought their dead to life again."

I.

"Strange, surely, that the ungrateful Jews
Should thee in place of Jesus choose:
Yet stranger far it is that he
Should choose to die to set _me_ free."

------

{536}

From the Popular Science Review.

AËROLITES.

BY TOWNSHEND M. HALL, F.G.S.

Meteoric stones, or aërolites, as they are generally called (from two Greek words, _aer_ and _lithos_, signifying "air-stones"), may be defined as solid masses consisting principally of pure iron, nickel, and several other metals, sometimes containing also an admixture of augite, olivine, and hornblende, which, from time to time, at irregular intervals, have fallen upon the surface of the earth from above.

Other designations, such as "fire-balls and thunder-bolts," have been popularly applied to these celestial masses, the former denoting their usual fiery appearance, whilst the latter has reference to the extreme suddenness of their descent.

Shooting stars also, although they are not accompanied by the fall of any solid matter upon the earth, are generally placed in the same category, since they are supposed to be aërolites which pass (comparatively speaking) very near our earth, and are visible from it by night; at the same time their distance from us, varying as it does from four to two hundred and forty miles and upward, is in most instances too great to allow of their being drawn down by the attractive power possessed by the earth. Like comets and eclipses, these celestial phenomena in former times were universally regarded with feelings of the greatest awe and superstition; and in Eastern countries especially, where the fall of a meteoric stone was supposed to be the immediate precursor of some important public event, or national calamity, the precise date of each descent was carefully recorded. In China, for example, such reports reach back to the year 644 before our era; and M. Biot has found in the astronomical section of some of the most ancient annals of that empire sixteen falls of aërolites recorded as having taken place between the years 644 B.C. and 333 after Christ, whilst the Greek and Roman authors mention only four such occurrences during the same period. Even now, in this age of science and universal knowledge, aërolites can scarcely be regarded without a certain degree of dread. Indeed, four or five cases have occurred in which persons have been killed by them; in another instance, several villages in India were set on fire by the fall of a meteoric stone; and it was by no means a pleasant subject for reflection that such a catastrophe might happen anywhere and at any moment, especially when we remember that these stones, although not quite incandescent, are always, more or less, in a heated state; and sometimes so hot that even after the lapse of six hours they could not be touched with impunity.

The first fall of meteoric stones on record appears to have taken place about the year 654: B.C., when, according to a passage in Livy, a shower of stones fell on the Alban Hill, not far distant from Rome. The next in chronological order is mentioned by several writers, such as Diogenes of Apollonia, Plutarch, and Pliny, and described by them as a great stone, the size of two millstones, and equal in weight to a full wagon-load. It fell about the year 467 B.C., at AEgos Potamos, on the Hellespont, and even up to the days of Pliny, four centuries after its fall, it continued to be an object of curiosity and speculation. {537} After the close of the first century we fail to obtain any account or notice of this stone; but although it has been lost sight of for upward of eighteen hundred years, the eminent Humboldt says, in one of his works, that notwithstanding all previous failures to rediscover it, he does not wholly relinquish the hope that even after such a considerable lapse of time, this Thracian meteoric mass, which it would be so difficult to destroy, may be found again, especially since the region in which it fell has now become so easy to access to European travellers.

The next descent of any particular importance took place at Ensisheim in Alsace, where an aërolite fell on November 7th, 1492, just at the time when the Emperor Maximilian, then king of the Romans, happened to be on the point of engaging with the French army. It was preserved as a relic in the cathedral at Ensisheim, until the beginning of the French revolution, when it was conveyed to the Public Library of Colmar, and it is still preserved there among the treasures.

In later years the shower of aërolites which fell in April, 1803, at L'Aigle, in Normandy, may well rank as the most extraordinary descent upon record. A large fire-ball had been observed a few moments previously, in the neighborhood of Caen and Alençon, where the sky was perfectly clear and cloudless. At L'Aigle no appearance of light was visible, and the fire-ball assumed instead the form of a small black cloud, consisting of vapor, which suddenly broke up with a violent explosion, followed several times by a peculiar rattling noise. The stones at the time of their descent were hot, but not red, and smoked visibly. The number which were afterward collected within an elliptical area measuring from six to seven miles in length by three in breadth, has been variously estimated at from two to three thousand. They ranged in weight from two drachms up to seventeen and half pounds. The French government immediately deputed M. Biot, the celebrated naturalist and philosopher, to proceed to the spot, for the express purpose of collecting the authentic facts concerning a phenomenon which, until that time, had almost universally been treated as an instance of popular superstition and credulity. His conclusive report was the means of putting an end to all scepticism on the subject, and since that date the reality--not merely the possibility--of such occurrences has no longer been contested.

Leaving out, for the present, innumerable foreign instances which might be quoted, we must now glance rapidly at a few of the most noticeable examples of the fall of meteoric stones which have taken place in England. The earliest which appears on record descended in Devonshire, near Sir George Chudleigh's house at Stretchleigh, in the parish of Ermington, about twelve miles from Plymouth. The circumstance is thus related by Westcote, one of the quaint old Devonshire historians:

"In some part of this manor (Stretchleigh), there fell from above--I
cannot say from heaven--a stone of twenty-three pounds weight, with
a great and fearful noise in falling; first it was heard like unto
thunder, or rather to be thought the report of some great ordnance,
cannon, or culverin; and as it descended, so did the noise lessen,
at last when it came to the earth to the height of the report of a
peternel, or pistol. It was for matter like unto a stone singed, or
half-burned for lime, but being larger described by a richer wit, I
will forbear to enlarge on it."

The "richer wit" here alluded to was in all probability the author of a pamphlet published at the time, which further describes this aërolite as having fallen on January 10th, 1623, in an orchard, near some men who were planting trees. It was buried in the ground three feet deep, and its dimensions were three and a half feet long, two and a half wide, and one and a half thick. The pamphlet also states that pieces broken from off it were in the possession of many of the neighboring gentry. {538} We may here remark that no specimen of this stone is at present known to be in existence, and that although living in the county where it fell, we have hitherto failed in tracing any of the fragments here referred to. A few years later, in August, 1628, several meteoric stones, weighing from one to twenty-four pounds, fell at Hatford, in Berkshire; and in the month of May, 1680, several are said to have fallen in the neighborhood of London.

The total number of aërolitic descents which up to this present time have been observed to take place in Great Britain and Ireland is twenty, of which four occurred in Scotland, and four in Ireland. The largest and most noticeable of all these fell on December 13th, 1795, near Wold Cottage, in the parish of Thwing, East Riding of Yorkshire. Its descent was witnessed by two persons; and when the stone was dug up, it was found to have penetrated through no less than eighteen inches of soil and hard chalk. It originally weighed about fifty-six pounds, but that portion of it preserved in the British Museum is stated in the official catalogue to weigh forty-seven pounds nine ounces and fifty-three grains--just double the weight of the Devonshire aërolite.

When we come to inquire into the various opinions which have been held in different ages respecting the origin of aërolites, and the power which causes their descent, we must go back to the times of the ancient Greeks, and we find that those of their philosophers who had directed their attention to the subject had four theories to account for this singular phenomenon. Some thought that meteoric stones had a telluric origin, and resulted from exhalations ascending from the earth becoming condensed to such a degree as to render them solid. This theory was in after years revived by Kepler the astronomer, who excluded fire-balls and shooting stars from the domain of astronomy; because, according to his views, they were simply "meteors arising from the exhalations of the earth, and blending with the higher ether." Others, like Aristotle, considered that they were masses of metal raised either by hurricanes, or projected by some volcano beyond the limits of the earth's attraction, so becoming inflamed and converted, for a time, into starlike bodies. Thirdly, a solar origin; this, however, was freely derided by Pliny and several others, among whom we may mention Diogenes of Apollonia, already alluded to as one of the chroniclers of the aërolite of AEgos Potamos. He thus argues: "Stars that are invisible, and consequently have no name, move in space together with those that are visible. . . . These invisible stars frequently fall to the earth and are extinguished, as the stony star which fell burning at AEgos Potamos." This last opinion, it will be seen, coincides, as far as it goes, almost exactly with the most modern views on the subject.

As some of the Greeks derived the origin of meteorites from the sun (probably from the fact of their sometimes falling during bright sunshine), so we find, at the end of the seventeenth century, it was believed by a great many that they fell from the moon. This conjecture appears to have been first hazarded by an Italian philosopher, meeting Paolo Maria Terzago, whose attention was specially directed to this subject on the occasion of a meteoric stone falling at Milan in 1660, and killing a Franciscan monk. Olbers, however, was the first to treat this theory in a scientific manner, and soon after about fall of an aërolite at Siena, in the year 1794, he began to examine the question by the aid of the most abstruse mathematics, and after several years' labor he succeeded in showing that, in order to reach our earth, a stone would require to start from the moon at an initial velocity 8,292 feet per second; then proceeding downward with increasing speed, it would arrive on the earth with a {539} of 35,000 feet per second. But frequent measurements have shown that the _actual_ rate of aërolites averages 114,000 feet, or about twenty-one miles and a half per second, they were approved by these curious and most elaborate calculations to have come from a fire greater distance than that of our satellite. It is but fair to add that the question of initial velocity, on which the whole value value of this so-called "ballistic problem" depends, was investigative by three other eminent geometricians, Biot, Laplace, and Poisson, who during ten or twelve years were independently engaged is calculation. Biot's estimate was 8,282 feet in the second; Laplace, 7,862; and Poisson, 7,585--results all approximating very closely with those stated by Olbers.

We have already observed, at the beginning of this paper, that meteoric stones may fall at any moment, but observations, extending over many years, have sometimes been brought forward to show that, as far as locality is concerned, all countries are not equally liable to these visitations. In other words, the large number of aërolites which have been known to fall within a certain limited area has been contrasted with the apparent rarity of such occurrences beyond these limits. If it could be proved that the earth possessed more attractive power in some places than in others, this circumstance might be satisfactorily explained, but in default of any such evidence, the advocates of this theory must rely solely upon statistics, which from their very nature require to be taken with a certain amount of reserve. Professor Shepard, in Silliman's American Journal, has remarked that "fall of aërolites is confined principally to two zones; the one belonging to America is bounded by 33° and 44° north latitude, and is about 25° in length. Its direction is more or less from north-east to south-west, following the general line of the Atlantic Coast. Of all known occurrences of this phenomenon during the last fifty years, 92.8 per cent, have taken place within these limits, and mostly in the neighborhood of the sea. The zone of the eastern continent--with the exception that it extends ten degrees more to the north--lies between the same degrees of latitude, and follows a similar north-east direction, but is more than twice the length of the American zone. Of all the observed falls of aërolites, 90.9 per cent, have taken place within this area, and were also concentrated in that half of the zone which extends along the Atlantic."

On reference to a map, it will be seen that in the western continent the so-called zone is simply confined to the United States--the most densely inhabited portion of America. In like manner the eastern zone leaves out the whole of desert Africa, Lapland, Finland, the chief part of Russia, with an average of thirty-two inhabitants to each square mile; Sweden and Norway, with only seventeen per mile; whilst it embraces all the well-peopled districts of central Europe, most of which, like England, are able to count between three and four hundred persons to every mile of their territory. In fact, Professor Shepard's statement may almost be resolved into a plain question of population, for were an aërolite to fall in the midst of a desert, or in a thinly peopled district, it is needless to point out how few the chances are of its descent being ever noticed or recorded. That innumerable aërolites do fall without attracting any attention, is clearly proved by the number of discoveries continually taking place of metallic masses which, from their locality and peculiar chemical composition, could only be derived from some extra-terrestrial source. The great size also of many of these masses entirely precludes the possibility of their having been placed by human agency in the positions they have been found to occupy--sometimes on the surface of the earth, but just as frequently buried a few feet in the ground.

{540}

Thus the traveller Pallas found, in 1749, at Abakansk, in Siberia, the mass of meteoric iron, weighing 1,680 lb., now in the Imperial Museum at St. Petersburg. Another, lying on the plain of Tucuman, near Otumpa, in South America, has been estimated, by measurement, to weigh no less than 33,600 lb., or about fifteen tons; and one added last year to the splendid collection of meteorites in the British Museum weighs rather more than three and a half tons. It was found at Cranboume, near Melbourne, and was purchased by a Mr. Bruce, with a view to his presenting it to the British Museum, when, through some misunderstanding, it was discovered that one half of it had been already promised to the museum at Melbourne. In order, therefore, to save it from any such mutilation, the trustees of our national museum acquired and transferred to the authorities of the Melbourne collection a smaller mass which had been sent in 1862 to the International Exhibition. It weighed about 3,000 lb., and had been found near Melbourne, in the immediate vicinity of the great meteorite. The latter was then forwarded entire to London. In the British Museum may also be seen a small fragment of an aërolite, originally weighing 191 lb., which from time immemorial had been lying at Elbogen, near Carlsbad, in Bohemia, and had always borne the legendary appellation of "_der verwünschte Burggraf_," or the enchanted Burgrave. The remainder of this mass is preserved in the Imperial collection at Vienna. In Great Britain only two meteoric masses (not seen to fall) have hitherto been discovered; one was found about forty years ago near Leadhills, in Scotland; the other in 1861, at Newstead, in Roxburghshire.

Several instances have at different times occurred in which stones like aërolites have been found, and prized accordingly, until their real nature was demonstrated by the aid of chemical analysis. One valuable specimen, found a few years ago, was shown to have derived its origin amongst the _scoriae_ of an iron foundry; another, picked up in the Isle of Wight, turned out to be a nodule of iron pyrites, similar in every respect to those which abound in the neighboring chalk cliffs; and lastly, some aërolites of a peculiarly glassy appearance were found shortly after, of which it may, perhaps, suffice to say that the scene of this discovery was--Birmingham.

When we come to examine the composition of meteoric stones, we find in various specimens a great diversity in their chemical structure. Iron is the metal most invariably present, usually accompanied by a consider percentage of nickel and cobalt; also five other metals, chromium, copper, molybdenum, manganese, and tin; but of all these iron is that which largely preponderates, forming sometimes as much as ninety-six parts in the hundred. Rare instances have, however, been recorded where the proportion of iron has sunk so low as to form only two percent, and the deficiency thus caused has been made up by a larger admixture of some earthy mineral, such as augite, hornblende, or olivine. Other ingredients, like carbon, sulphur, alumina, etc., are also found to enter, in different proportions, into the composition of aërolites; the total number all chemical elements observed in them up to this present date the nineteen or twenty. It has been well remarked by an able writer, that no _new_ substance has hitherto come to us from without; and thus we find that all these nineteen or twenty elements are precisely similar to those which are distributed throughout the rocks and minerals of our earth; the essential difference between the two classes of compounds--celestial and terrestrial--being seen most clearly in the respective methods in which the component parts are admixed.

In the outward appearance aërolites there is one characteristic so constant that, out of the many hundred examples that have been recorded, one only (as far as we can ascertain) has {541} been wanting in it. We refer to the black fused crust or rind with which the surface of meteoric stones is covered. It usually extends not more than a few tenths of an inch into the substance of the stone, and is supposed to result from the extreme rapidity with which they descend into the oxygen of our atmosphere, causing them to undergo a slight and partial combustion, which, however, from the short time necessarily occupied in their descent, has not sufficient time to penetrate beyond the surface. On cutting and polishing the stones, if the smooth face is treated with nitric acid, it will in many cases be found to exhibit lines and angular markings, commonly known by the name of "widmannsted figures." These are tracings of imperfect crystals, while the broad intermediate spaces, preserving their polish, point out those portions of the stone which contain a larger proportion of nickel than the rest of the mass. We may here add that the noise said at times to accompany the fall of aërolites, does not appear to be a constant characteristic, nor does the cause or exact nature of it seem able to be definitely specified.

In conclusion, we cannot do better than advise those of our readers who desire further information on this subject to take the earliest opportunity--if they have not done so already--of paying a visit to the magnificent collection of meteoric stones, contained in several glass cases at the end of the mineral gallery at the British Museum. The catalogue for the year 1856 gave a list of between 70 and 80 specimens; in 1863 this number had increased to 216, mainly through the energy of the curator, Mr. Maskelyne; and since that date there have been several further additions. Chief among continental museums may be mentioned the Imperial collection at Vienna, as possessing a series of specimens remarkable alike for their size and importance.

--------

From Good Words.

DELIVERANCE.

As some poor captive bird, too weak to fly,
Still lingers in its open cage, so I
My slavery own.
For evil makes a prison-house within;
The gloom of sin, and sorrow born of sin.
Doth weigh me down.
Ah! Christ, and wilt not thou regard my sighs,
Long wakeful hours, and lonely miseries,
And hopes forlorn?
Let not my fainting soul be thus subdued.
Nor leave thy child in darkened solitude.
All night to mourn!

He hears my prayer! the dreary night is done,
I feel the soft air and the blessed sun.
With heavenly beams.
He comes, my Lord! in raiment glistening white.
From pastures golden in the morning light
And crystal streams.
O let me come to thee!--from this dark place--
And see my gentle Shepherd face to face,
And hear his voice.
So shall these bitter tears no longer flow,
And thou shalt teach my secret heart to know
Thy sacred joys!

--------

{542}

ORIGINAL.

WHAT CAME OF A LAUGH ON A CHRISTMAS EVE.

"Beg your pardon, sir," said I, as soon as I could compose myself sufficiently to speak; "I couldn't help it."

"Glad to hear it. Just what I want. I was debating with myself whether it was sure for a laugh. I am looking for things that will make one laugh; in short, buying up causes for laughter on a Christmas day. There can be no doubt, you think, about this being funny?"

"Not a bit of it," said I.

"Well, I'll have one for every basket, then," said the old gentleman, his eyes twinkling with delight, as he danced the toy up and down. It was one of those jointed wooden monkeys that by means of a slide performs the most comical evolutions around the top of a pole.

"You see," continued he, "I cannot always trust my own judgment. There's no credit in my laughing, bless your heart. I'd be a monster, yes, a monster, my dear sir, if I didn't. I'm just like this monkey as you see him now in this position, ready to go over the other side with the slightest provocation. I have everything that heart can wish, sir, to laugh at and be happy; but they, poor dears, they are so far on the minus side of merriment, as well they may be, that it takes a little something extra, you see, to get a good hearty squeal out of them."

I became at once intensely interested in the "poor dears" alluded to. The sight of the old gentleman was enough to make one do unheard-of feats of heroism in favor of any person or thing of which he might take the least notice. I ventured to suppose that they had lost something or somebody lately, with the intention of offering my hand or purse as the case might be.

"Can't say that they have," he replied, rubbing his shiny bald head. "Being generally on the minus side of everything, including laughter, they haven't anything to lose which you or I might think worth keeping, except their lives, and somehow I think they've got used to losing even them pretty comfortably."

I was perplexed, and muttered, "Curious sort of people, those."

"But interesting, you'll allow?" said he.

I replied that I had no doubt of it; and I meant it, for so charming and open-hearted was this old gentlemen, that I was ready to subscribe unhesitatingly to any asseveration he might be pleased to make; "but--" I added, about to express my ignorance of the individuals in question, when he interrupted me.

"Why--but? My Minnie, the Darling of the World and the Sunshine of my life" (expressing the titles of that person in the largest capitals), "and I held an ante-Christmas council this morning, and it was proposed by the president, that is myself, and seconded by the said Darling of the World and Sunshine of my life, and carried by an overwhelming majority, including Bob, who said he went in for anything good, that buts were unparliamentary when Christmas was concerned; and so we called the roll, twenty in all, and there being no buts, they all stood unchallenged, making twenty baskets, and now as many monkeys to go in them. What do you think of it! Capital, wasn't it?"

I was certain it was, and was prepared to go any odds in its favor.

"What's more," he added, "they are going privately."

{543}

Being committed beyond all explanation, I said I was glad to hear that too, "if Miss Minnie approves." This last supposition I made with a deprecating cough, not being quite sure of the relation which the old gentleman bore to the Darling of the World and the Sunshine of his life.

"It was her own proposal," was his rejoinder, "and you can't imagine what an immense relief it was to me too. It is more than I can stand to get through with the "thank ye sir's," and the "much obliged's" and the "long life to your honor's." I'm a baby, sir, in their presence, and by the time the distribution is made I'm a spectacle of unmitigated woe, as if I'd been to as many funerals as there are baskets. I remember that as I was coming out from a widow and five children, last Christmas, that rascal Bob saw me wiping my eyes, and says he, 'Most of 'em dead, sir?' 'No, Bob,' says I, 'it's the smoke, I suppose; they've a precious smoky chimney.' But when we got to the next place--let me see--oh! yes, a man with a broken leg, the scoundrel says to me, as he handed out the basket, 'Now, let us bury another one, sir.' Not bad for, was it? I had such a good laugh on each pair of stairs beforehand that I got through that one pretty comfortably But it was a glorious proposal of my Minnie's, was it not, that these should go privately? for we'll sit at home, and check them off as they go in, for I've arranged that the messenger shall deliver them by the watch, sir, and we'll imagine their surprise and their happy faces, and the bringing out of the monkeys, and then we'll have a roar and be jolly, and get rid of the thank ye's and all the rest of it that chokes up a man's throat and turns him into a born baby." And here the good-hearted old gentleman, in the fulness of his delight, caused the monkey in his hand to perform a series of rapid gymnastics over the top of his pole, beyond the powers of any monkey that ever lived. He presented such a comical appearance in doing this that I burst into another hearty laugh in which he as heartily joined.

"It is irresistibly amusing," said I, meaning the monkey.

"I knew it would be," he returned, his mind running upon the happy scheme by which he might prevent his left hand knowing the deeds of the right; "we will have twenty merry Christmas laughs all rolled into one. There I'll be, as it were, on this side," here he took a position on the floor opposite me, "and my Darling over there, as it were you," a distinction I acknowledged by a profound bow, "and Bob standing behind her chair, as that rocking-horse stands behind you; and then, watch in hand, we'll check them off: Number One, Widow Bums, two small children; Number Two, Susy Bell, orphan girl, works in a carpet factory and supports her two orphan sisters; Number Three, old Granny Mullen, with consumptive son and three grand-children, and so on; and there we'll have them all right before us, and they knowing nothing about it (there's the beauty of it, all due to that blessed Darling of the World and Sunshine of my life), and out will come the joint of meat, ready cooked, and the mince-pie, and the plum-pudding with a dozen of silver quarter dollars in each one, and the shoes and the stockings, and I don't know what else besides, packed away by my Darling's own sweet little hands, and last of all the monkey with a label around his neck, with an inscription, say, for instance, 'From Nobody in particular, with best wishes for a Merry Christmas.' There you have it," added he, waving the monkey triumphantly in the air, "and won't it be grand?"

"I'd give the world to see it," I exclaimed, quite carried away by the old gentleman's enthusiastic manner. Just then the keeper of the toy-shop handed me a package of marbles, tops, jewsharps, a pocket spy-glass, and a few other things of a like nature calculated to make glad the heart of {544} boys, which I had purchased for my little nephew, Willie, in the country.

"This for you, Mr. Holiday; but if you wish, I'll send it around to the doctor's," said the toy-vender.

"Lord bless my heart and soul!" exclaimed the old gentleman, seizing me suddenly by both hands. "Not Alfred Holiday is it?"

"That is my name," said I.

"Nephew of Dr. Ben?"

"Nephew of Dr. Ben," I repeated.

"And how long have you been in the city?"

"About a week," said I. "I came up to spend Christmas with Uncle Ben and Aunt Mary."

"And to take a look in at the Owl's Retreat, No. 9 Harmony place, of course?"

I intimated my ignorance of the Retreat in question, and of my not having the pleasure, etc.

"My house, man, my house," said he, shaking my hands up and down. "Dr. Ben and I are old acquaintances; in fact, ever since my Minnie was--I beg your pardon," added he, suddenly recollecting himself, and producing a card from his vest pocket. "Name of Acres, Thomas Acres, who, with the compliments of his daughter Minnie to the same effect, _will_ be--_most_ happy--_to_ see--Mr. Alfred--_Holiday_--on to-morrow _morning_--to _join_ in--_the_ grand--checking off--_of_ the--twenty baskets--_and_ their--contents--including--monkeys--and of course stay to dinner."

If the old gentleman's cordial manner had any weight in deciding my acceptance of the invitation, it must be confessed that the curiosity to see the "Darling of the World and the Sunshine of his life" added not a little to it. Promising to be on hand at No. 9 before eleven o'clock, at which hour the checking off was to begin, I bade my new-found friend good-morning and went home.

But it was very provoking not to know more of the "Darling and Sunshine" This is him him him him question. Standing in such a light to such a father, she was, of course, a peerless being. Age--say, twenty. Height--medium, I am five feet ten. 10 Blonde or brunette--difficult to determine. Sunshine would seem to indicate blonde, yet darling might be either. Good, amiable, witty, accomplished--not a doubt of it. Beautiful name too, said I, as I scribbled it in every style of the caligraphic art, thereby destroying no small amount of my uncle's property in fine gilt-edged note paper. Has she suitor already. Hoity-toity, Mr. Alfred Holiday, you are castle-building on a small amount of material, it seems to me; and if she have, what affair is that of yours? a question which that imaginative young gentlemen finding himself unable to solve fell into a fit of despondency, and went to bed in a despairing state of mind.

Punctual to the appointed hour I walked into Harmony place, a quiet unpretentious street, and open the gate of No. 9. There had been both a rain and heavy frost in the night, and the trees and shrubs, clothed in a complete armor of ice, sparkled and glittered in the bright sunshine. Unfortunately, the ground shared in this universal covering, and being under the impression that someone was looking from behind the curtains, who might possibly be the Darling of the World and the Sunshine of the life of Mr. Thomas Acres, I insanely endeavored to walk upon the glassy pavement with careless ease, as if it were the most ordinary ground in the world. I now advise my bitterest enemy to try it. In an unguarded moment my feet slipped, and I came down in the most unpleasant manner into a sitting posture upon the ground. I thought I heard the sound of a clear ringing laugh following immediately upon my ignominious fall. I hoped it was from No. 10 or No. 8; yet my heart misgave me as Mr. Acres, with a half dozen superfluous bows, divided between his daughter and myself, introduced me, and a pair of dark, deep eyes, in which I thought I detected a merry twinkle, quietly but warmly acknowledged my presence.

{545}

"Mr. Alfred Holiday, my child, our old friend, Doctor Holiday's nephew; Mr. Holiday, my daughter Minnie, the Darling of the World and the Sunshine of my life, as I have already told you, and the Dove of this Owl's Retreat."

I was "most happy," of course, and wished them both, with a bow to Miss Minnie, a Merry Christmas.

"We were getting afraid, Mr. Holiday, lest we should be obliged to begin without you," said that bright-eyed and altogether beautiful young lady, in a tone of voice which I afterward characterized in a violently worded poem, written just before midnight, as 'rippling diamonds' and 'dropping pearls.'

"Afraid!--without _me_?" I exclaimed, placing a most unjustifiable emphasis upon the personal pronoun. "I am highly flattered."

"Not at all; my father tells me he feels deeply indebted to you in assisting him in the choice of some toys designed for the children."

"For--for--laughing," stammered I. "Do you think, Miss Acres, that one might be indebted to another for a laugh?" I was thinking of my stupid fall on the ice, and began to regret my having accredited to No. 8 or 10 those sounds of merriment which reached my ears.

"If one gives good cause," she replied, with the quietest and most provoking of smiles. The deep, dark eyes twinkled again, and Nos. 8 and 10 stood acquitted.

"Come, Mr. Holiday," said Mr. Acres, "let us take an inspection of the forces. Wagon is loaded, strange man hired, with a watch in his pocket, off he goes; whence he comes or whither he goes, nobody knows. Ha! ha! Minnie, my dear, put me down one, your ancient Owl has struck a poetic vein; no time to register it, however. Come along; while I am immortalizing myself, twenty hungry families are waiting for a Christmas dinner they don't expect to get, and their mouths watering for plum-puddings and mince pies that they have not the most distant expectation of"--and the good old soul led the way into the hall, and thence into the court yard, at the entrance of which stood a large covered furniture-cart, filled to over-flowing with the wonderful twenty baskets destined to distribute happiness among as many poor and suffering families, and make their hearts merry on Christmas day. Each basket was labelled with its direction, number, and time of delivery.

"Now, John," said Mr. Acres to the driver as he mounted to his place on the cart, "remember, you are born deaf and dumb, can't hear a word nor even say 'Merry Christmas,' until you come back here and report."

"Lave me alone, sir," replied John with a broad grin, "the fun shan't be spiled for me."

"He enters into it, he enters into it, you see," said Mr. Acres, addressing Minnie and myself. "What's the time, John, by yours?"

"Near eleven, sir."

"Time's up, then.

"One, two, three, and off you go.
Twenty baskets piled in a row:
Ask me no questions, for I don't know.

Positively, my darling, there's something inspiring in the air this morning."

John cracked his whip, and the cart moved out of the yard, turned down the street, and was soon out of sight. Mr. Acres was a perfect picture of happiness as he stood gazing at the departing vehicle, rubbing his hands with delight, and his full, round face beaming with intense satisfaction. As I glanced at Minnie I saw her eyes filled with tears of love and pride as she watched the movements of her father. Turning about suddenly he noticed her emotion, upon which he went up to her, and placing a hand on her either cheek said with mock gravity:

{546}

"Miss Minnie Acres, the Darling of the World and the Sunshine of my life, is hereby invited to attend the funeral of twenty baskets without further notice. Ha! ha! you recollect Bob, you know; and no time to lose either," he added, taking Minnie's hand in his right and mine in his left, and turning toward the parlor; "so let us get at it, my dears; excuse the liberty, Mr. Holiday, I'm in a glorious humor, and it's Christmas day, and here we are, and here's the list, so sit ye down; and Bob, Bob! you rascal, where are you?"

The rascal thus vociferously called for responded immediately by presenting at the door a form about four feet in height, of the rarest obesity, clothed in a dark-gray suit, evidently denned for the first time, and holding with both hands the stiffest and hardest of hats. There was no motion of his lips visible, but a sound was heard as if it proceeded from the inside of a cotton-bale, which was understood to mean--

"Here I am, sir; respects, gentlemen and ladies, and a Merry Christmas."

"Pretty time of day for that" said Mr. Acres, "as if a body were just out of bed, and hadn't heard Mass yet. Oh! I see," he continued, glancing at Bob's new clothes, which I have no doubt were the delivery of an order from T. Acres, Esq., made that very morning by Tibbits & Son, fashionable tailors. "Well, Merry Christmas, Bob; but don't stand bowing there all day"--which feat that individual seemed to be vainly attempting to execute, but could not get through with to his entire satisfaction--"come in, and stand there by Miss Minnie, and listen to the checking off, and we'll see if it's all right as a trivet, as it should be. Lord! I'd eat no dinner if there was one left out."

The "checking off" commenced immediately, the time being up for the delivery of the first basket. Nothing could exceed the delight of the old gentleman as Minnie read from the list the names of the parties who at that moment received the basket, their places of residence, and a detailed account of the articles sent. Each basket contained a sufficient supply for a hearty Christmas dinner for the family, jellies, wines, and other delicacies for the sick, some articles of clothing, and last of all the toy monkey.

"They've all got one," said Mr. Acres, chuckling with glee as monkey Number One was mentioned; "but we must do it regular and put them all down, or I should be afraid we overlooked one, which isn't likely, however, for they are all down at the bottom of each basket, and I with them there myself."

One by one the baskets were checked off, Mr. Acres with watch in hand calling "time," and Minnie reading thereupon the names of the parties and contents of the basket allotted to them. We very soon realized the old gentleman's promise that we would have a roar, for as the distribution went on the merriment increased, as all considered it their bounden duty to laugh louder and longer at the mention of the monkey of the basket then checked off than they did at the last one. Even Bob, whose risible powers seemed to be rather limited, and which were evidently under still greater restraint by reason of the additional dignity which became the new outfit, succeeded in increasing the hilarity of the occasion by the comical manner he performed his appointed duty in the checking off, which consisted in answering "right" when the number and names were announced, and submitting any information obtained of the parties in question through the intervention of a certain Mrs. McQuirey, whose "absence at the present delightful reunion," explained Mr. Acres, "was owing to the numerous duties with which that excellent lady had burdened herself." These duties, I afterward learned, consistent in making a daily morning visit to a number of sick poor people who Mr. Acres had taken under his fostering care. Bob's information was remarkable for its brevity of expression as well as for its peculiarly ventriloquistic character, due to the extraordinary amount of adipose matter which enveloped his organs of speech. {547} Of basket Number Five, for instance, he said, "Bad--husband goes it every Saturday night--children thin as broom handles." Or Number eight he reported: "Measles--shanty--rags scare--allers hungry." Of Number Ten, "Wus--man broken leg--wife no work--ain't fit neither if there was millions." Of Number Twenty, the last, having by this time exhausted his stock of adjectives, he summed up his report thus: "Extremely wust o' the hall lot--widder--nine mortal bags o' hungry bones--and what will you do with 'em?"

"Do with them!" exclaimed Mr. Acres, "we'll have Mrs. McQuirey look them up, Bob, eh? Minnie, dear, take a note of Number Twenty, that basket is only a bite."

The baskets being all checked off, Bob was ordered to produce forthwith a bottle of wine and glasses. "Now that we've got through with it comfortably," said Mr. Acres, "we'll drink all their healths, and wish 'em a Merry Christmas," which was done, all standing. "Hoping," continued that Prince of Charity, glass in hand, and following toward the four points of the compass, as if the whole twenty families were arranged about him in a circle, "that you may all have many happy returns of the season, and never know a Christmas that is not a merry one."

Never was a toast drunk with purer enthusiasm or a heartier good-will. Believing it to be the part of some one to cheer the sentiment, and not seeing any of the parties present who might with great propriety perform that duty, Bob took it upon himself to act their proxy, which he accordingly did by waving his new hat in a circle and giving three muffled "Hoo-rays" from the cotton bale.

In a few minutes John the messenger returned. He was at once introduced to the parlor, where he gave a glowing account of his errand.