THE CHRISTMAS GUEST.
FROM A TRUE INCIDENT.
She was a very poor little girl, very poor indeed; often--indeedalmost always--hungry, and thinly-clad, and delicate, but yet notaltogether miserable. No, far from it, for she had a loving mother whodid her poor best for her children. There were three or four of themand Emmy was the eldest. She was only six, but she was looked upon asalmost grown-up, for father had died last year, and Emmy had to helpmother with "the little ones," as she always called them.
They lived in a single room in one of the poorest and most crowdedparts of great London; in a street which was filled with houses ofone-room homes like their own. There was much misery and muchwickedness, I fear, too, in their neighbourhood; drinking, andswearing, and fighting, as well as hunger, and cold, and sickness. Butcompared with several years ago, when Emmy's mother herself had been agirl living in much such a home as she now strove "to keep together"for her fatherless babies, compared with that time, as she, and otherstoo, used often to say, "it was a deal better." There was lessdrinking and bad language; there was less misery. For friends--friendsable and earnestly anxious to help--had taken up their abode in thevery next street to little Emmy's; the church had been "done upbeautiful," and _there_ there was always a welcome and a rest from thetroubles and worries at home; and the clergyman, as well as the kindladies who had come to live among their toiling, struggling brothersand sisters, knew all about everybody and everything, knew who was illand who was out of work, knew who were "trying to be good" even amongthe children, knew even the tiniest tots by name, and had always akind word and smile, however busy and hurried they were.
"Emmy had to help Mother with the little ones"]
And, thanks greatly to these kind friends, Emmy's life was not withoutits pleasures. She loved the infant school on Sundays, she loved the"treats"; once last summer--and Emmy was old enough now to rememberlast summer well, though it seemed a very long time ago--there hadbeen a treat into the country, a real day in the country, where, forthe first time in her life, the child saw grass and trees.
But it was far from summer time now, it was midwinter. Christmas wasclose at hand, and winter had brought more than its usual troubles tothe little family. There were worse things this year than cold andscant food, chapped hands and chilblained feet. Tiny, as they calledthe baby but one, was very ill with bronchitis, the doctor could notsay if she would get better, and sometimes it seemed to the poormother as if it was hardly to be wished that she should.
"She suffers so, poor dear, and seeing to her hinders me sadly withmy work. I do feel as if I'd break down at last altogether," she saidone evening--it was Christmas Eve--to a neighbour who had looked in tosee how things were going on.
"And Emmy's looking pale," said the visitor, "she wants cheering up abit too. Let her come to church with me for a change. I'm going to theevening service now."
Emmy brightened up at this. She had not been at church last Sunday,and, like most children, she was especially fond of going in theevening. It seemed grander and more solemn somehow, when all was darkoutside. And the lights and warmth, and above all the music, were verypleasant to the little girl. So with a parting word of advice to themother to keep up heart a bit longer--"things allus starts mendingwhen they get to the worst"--the kind neighbour set off, holding Emmyby the hand.
It was beautiful in church, the Christmas "dressing up," as Emmycalled it, had been completed that afternoon; to the child it seemed asort of fairy-land, though of fairy-land she had never heard. But shehad heard of heaven, which was better.
"It could scarce be finer there," she thought to herself dreamily, asshe listened to the words of the service with a feeling that all wassweet and beautiful, though she could actually understand but little.
The sermon was short and simple. But Emmy was getting sleepy, and thethought of poor mother, and Tiny with her hacking cough, mingled withwhat she heard, till suddenly something caught her ear which startledher into attention. The preacher had been speaking of the firstChristmas-day, concluding with some words about the morrow, when againthe whole Christian world would join in welcoming their Lord. For"again He will come to us; again Jesus Himself will be here in themidst of us, ready as ever to listen to our prayers, to comfort andconsole."
It was beautiful in church]
Emmy was wide awake now. She scarcely heard the words of the carol,she was in a fever of eager hopefulness.
"_What_ a good thing I came to-night," she said to herself, "else Imightn't ever have knowed it. I _would_ like to see Him first of all.There'll be such a many, and He'll have such a deal to do. But itwouldn't take Him that long to come round with me to see Tiny, and ifHe does, like in the story, He'll cure her in 'alf a minute. I knowwhat I'll do"--and a little scheme formed itself in the childishmind--"though I'll not tell mother," thought Emmy, "just for fearlike, I should be too late to catch Him."
"'Twas a lovely sermon, and so touchin' too," said Emmy's friend toanother woman as they walked home.
A LITTLE FIGURE CURLED UP IN THE PORCH.]
"It strengthens one up a bit, it do," agreed her companion. "I'll trymy best to be round for the seven o'clock service in the morning."
"Seven o'clock in the morning!" said Emmy to herself. "I'll best behere soon after six."
Christmas morning was _very_ cold. There was some frozen snow lyinghard and still white in the streets, and there was moonlight, pale andclear. So it was light enough for one of the Sisters, entering thechurch betimes, to distinguish a little figure curled up darkly in theporch. A thrill of fear ran through her for a moment. Supposing itwere some poor child turned out by a drunken father, as sometimeshappened, frozen to death this bitter night? But no--the smallcreature started to its feet.
"Is it He? Has Jesus come?" she exclaimed. "Oh! do let me speak to Himfirst."
"My child!" exclaimed the sister, "what is it? Have you been dreaming?Why, it is little Emmy Day. Have you been here all night?"
"No, no," Emmy replied, her teeth chattering with cold, and the sob ofa half-feared disappointment in her voice. "No, no; I slipped outwhile mother and all was still asleep. I'm waiting to ask Him to cometo our Tiny;" and she went on to tell what she had heard last night,and what she had planned and hoped.
Her friend took her into her own room for a few minutes, and theregently and tenderly explained to Emmy her sweet mistake. And thoughher tears could not all at once be stopped, the little girl trottedback to her mother with comfort in her heart, and strange andwonderful, yet beautiful new thoughts in her mind.
"He is _always_ near, I can _always_ pray to Him," she whispered toherself.
And her prayers were answered. Tiny recovered, and thanks to the kindSisters, that Christmas Day was the beginning of better things for thelittle family.
The Man with the Pan-Pipes, and Other Stories Page 4
