But the days was slippin' by, an' I begun to worry. 'Twas gittin past the middle o' December now. Then I remembered Christmas was comin' on. So one day arter my boy had left, I begun to think why I couldn't make a Christmas for him. I was jest hungry for a stockin' to fill. The next time he come I led up to the subject an' found out that he'd never heerd o' Christmas or Santy Claus in all his life. So I told him about it an' he was so interested. The stockin' was easy enough, for I had one of Peleg's. Then I wanted a partikiler specie o' apple, big an' red. They calls 'em Boardman reds. The hick'ry nuts I got easy enough and the maple sugar. I was goin' to get .some pepp'mint lozenges, but I thought that was too personal. I got a big stick o' ball lick'rish, an' some B 'gundy gum. Then o' course there must be a jack-knife. I set up late o' nights an' riz early o' mornin's to knit a pair o' red yarn mittens, an' I wound a yarn ball, an' covered it with leather. I had a diff'cult time findin' fish-hooks an' sinkers. Right on top I was goin' to put Peleg's leather-covered Bible. Every day I talked Christmas to him, tellin' about the diff'rent Christmases I'd knowed.
The last night but one come—the 23rd. Ev'ry time I spoke o' father's houses or families goin' home for Christmas, I see he looked kind o' sorry. That arternoon when he asked in a shaky, still voice, " Don't you want to hear me speak my piece?" he follered up with the dear old hymn,
"Airth has engrossed my love too long,
'Tis time to lift my eyes."
He went on with all the verses, an' when he come to
"O let me mount to join their song,"
I was all goose flesh, an' so choky.
All the next day I went about my work very softly. I'd filled the stockin', an' there it laid in my room, never to be hung up, all bulgy, onreg'lar an' knobbv. I knew what ev'ry bulge meant. That one by the ankle was the jack-
