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8 FRANK HARBEN’S CHRISTMAS DAY. HEN and where will you find a livelier set of boys on Christmas day, at a prominent street corner in a little coun try town ? Such a crowd of boys— characteristic boys, that were verily boys in all their manners, noise and an tics—were gathered around the main street corner, the arena for their youthful exploits, in a certain little \g 0 0 village on a certain Christmas day, as fresh and sweet in memory as the fragrant breath of yesterday’s rose. They popped firecrackers, they blew Christmas horns, they guyed each other with much display of boyish wit, they jauntily accosted every passing stranger, and laughed till they al most fell down, when one of their number, more boisterous and forward than the others, received in answer to one of his sallies to a passer-by, a humorous and cutting reply that withered him into a stammering hush. Just then, another boy who might be described by a word which we believe Webster does not recognize, but which fits him so well that we hazard classical criticism, and call him an “uppity” boy, threw a cannon cracker into the air with a great flourish, and as its boom, shook the atmosphere around, he gave a glance up the street and began to sing in a hilarious manner: “A black cloud’s a visin’— I think it’s goin’ to rain— ’’ but he didn’t have time to finish his rhyme and tell that it was nothing but some colored boys “coming down the lane,” for he was interrupted by an earnest, impatient voice: “ Stop, Harry Stout I Why do you want to do that way?” “Just because I want to. What have you got to do with it, Frank Harben?” “Oh, well,” replied Frank; “I have nothing special to do with it, but I can’t see why you want to make such an allusion as that.” “’Lusion, nothing! I was jujst announcing to the crowd that a black cloud was risin’, or in other words, that a crowd of negroes was coming down the street.” “Os course we know what you wanted to do, but why do you want to allude to them in that sarcastic way? How would you like for some negro boy to announce the approach of our crowd of white boys by such a remark?” “I wouldn’t like it at all!” said Harry. We are white folks and they are ‘ negroes, ’ as you call them. That’s difference enough. You must believe in social equality, don’t you?” “No,” replied Frank, his face reddening, his eyes kindling, and his voice growing more earnest, “I believe in no such thing! My dead father was as brave and true a Southern gentleman as ever lived. And he taught me that it was as much our duty to do our duty to our inferiors as to our superiors, or to any one else. He often said to me. ‘Frank, my son, duty is duty, and right is right. Be sure that you always act a true gentle man toward everybody, in all things.’ Now, I tell you, Harry, I love my father’s memory, and I honor his teaching, and I don’t feel like it is ihe part of a true gentleman to make such wilfully sarcastic allusions to a crowd of negroes, simplv because they are ignorant and black. Think awhile, and see if you don’t agree with me.” “Oh, my goodness me!” replied Harry, relaxing almost into a smile; “then you are a ‘true gentle man’, are you?” “Well, I don’t claim that much for myself yet, I reckon, but I am trying to grow in that direction just as fast as I can.” And with these good-natured, but still earnest words, Frank Harben turned and walked slowly d’.wn the street. And there followed after him a perfect fusillade of voices: “Good-bye, old man! Come back and touch off this cannon, smarty!” “Good-bye, ‘true gentlemen’! where are you go ing’” . , , , _,.j The Golden Age for December 20, 1906. By WM. D. UPSHAW “I am going to see Uncle Frank. Good-bye, boys. T hope, I wish for you all a happy Christmas day.” Frank Harben was the namesake of his Uncle Frank, his father’s aged, invalid brother. From little Frank’s infancy his uncle had loved him, as one who was named for him, and as a grave gen tlemanly boy, such as the above street conversation showed him to be. And Frank had loved his uncle as one whose name he gladly bore, and as his fath er’s honored and only brother. And now, at the age of fourteen, Frank’s nature was just begin ning to appreciate the condition, the great heart, and the firm, yet gentle tenderness of his invalid uncle’s nature. He had read much that was good for a boy of his age, and although he could enjoy fun and laugh as loud and merrily as any boy, he was yet given to moods thoughtful beyond his years. And so it was with a glad heart that Uncle Frank heard his nephew’s well-known knock, and young Frank heard his uncle’s loved voice, “Come in, my boy, come in.” He entered and looked pleas antly and steadily at his uncle’s patient face. “And what of the day, Frank, since you rushed in and awoke my old heart this morning with your cheery ‘Christmas gift, Uncle Frank! and a happy Christmas too!’ Ah, my boy, it has been a happy one thus far. Though I’ve been alone, I was not alone. What sweet communion has been mine!” “Oh, well, Uncle Frank, I’m tired! I have been out yonder in the street with a crowd of boys. I like to have fun and a big time sometimes, but somehow, it don’t seem just right to me, to spend Christmas day popping firecrackers, blowing horns, and indulging in every other wild freak that boys can think of. T got tired of it, and of their ‘smart talk,’ and felt like I wanted to get away from the noise and sinful foolishness, and come down here and talk with you, or, rather, have you to talk to me.” The old man’s face brightened, and happy joy was in his voice: “I’m so glad, my Frank, I’m so glad! And what will you have me .to talk about ?” “Talk to me about Christmas day, Uncle Frank, and tell me how you can be so happy today when you are so old. pain-racked and helpless.” “Why, Frank, outside and through my window the Christmas sun shines with the balmy bright ness of June. But if it did not shine at all, and if the windstorm and rain beat with darkness and fury outside, there would still be sunshine in my heart; for Christ is there, Jesus, my blessed Re deemer. 0, desolate must be the heart and hungry and unsatisfied the soul, that cannot at all times, and especially as a solace in adversity, feed on the manna of Heaven!” Frank leaned forward with interested and won dering eyes, moved his chair a little nearer his uncle’s bed, his manly young face beaming, and said in his earnest, sweet voice: “Go on, Uncle Frank, go on! I just feel like I could sit here and listen to you talk always!” The dear old man’s face brightened more and more, and a tremor was in his voice as he said: “I am so glad, my dear boy, that you love to listen, and I’m so glad, too, you feel that the un seemly hilarity and dissipation of those thought less boys on the street is not the proper manner in which to spend Christmas day. Sweet day! in commemoration of the birth of Him whose life, death and teaching's have 'been a hundred-fold more to the happiness, the blessed inspiration and puri fication, the general uplifting of mankind and the emancipation of woman than all things else beside. Well, may we sing with raptured souls: “Joy to the world-—the Lord is come! Let earth receive her King! Let every heart prepare Him room. And heaven and nature sing’ “Oh, that it were joy to the whole world! Oh, that weak men and ■women with weak hearts and weak natures, who know not how to control them selves, would receive and lovingly obey the true King! Oh, that He might have room and reign supreme in every heart, and that all the people, every member of this great family in our own favored land and ‘every kindred, every tribe on this terrestial ball,’ might join this day with Heaven and nature in singing: “ ‘To him all majesty ascribe And crown him Lord of all.’ “Surely only those ‘will refuse to sing, who never knew our God.’ God pity those who cannot sing because they do not know Him! “Frank, my dear boy, when I feel the Heavenly music ringing in my own heart today, and remem ber that you and all the world who are not Chris tians cannot feel and hear it, nor understand it, I feel so anxious about you, and wish that you could feel and hear this music, too. Knowing your thirst for knowledge and your fondness for reading (and I am heartily glad of these), let me urge you, as one who has traveled over the long and eventful path and seen and felt the dangers lurking on every side, oh, let me urge you to be careful of what you read! “Be not enticed by beautiful language to follow any writer, take into your mind and heart any pernicious thought that would reflect upon or deny the truth of your good father’s Bible, your loving uncle ’s Bible, the Christ of their blessed redemption and glorious hope, the Christ of this sweet and blessed day! “I am an old man now. The sun of my life is slowly, but surely, setting, but, thank God, the clouds about it are a. pillow of golden fire guiding me through the River of Death, to the happy land of my Father’s promise. My sun is sweetly set ting, but it is setting to rise again! “Oh! shun, as you would shun the serpent’s deadly bite, the skeptic’s cold thought and the infidel’s merciless hand that would wrench from me that golden staff which supports my feeble steps as I totter toward the grave; the hand that would blot out, through all leternify, the light that robs the 'waiting tomb of its darkness and its gloom, the light that glorifies that River whose waters my feet are almost touching, and on whose crystal bosom I will soon be basking while I catch the an gelic music from the Beautiful Shore, as it floats on celestial waves and rings in Heavenly strains through my enraptured soul! “Oh! Jesus, who didst redeem me from a life of wickedness and from an eternal death—Jesus who has been my stay and comfort through so many seas of suffering and sorrow—Jesus who now stands with smiling face and beckoning hands, inviting me up to that Throne from whence He let down into my heart this steadfast anchor of Eternal Hope—oh! blessed Redeemer, how precious thou art to my heart this hour! ‘ ‘ Frank, my dear boy,, oh! that my Savior wore your Savior, too! ’ ’ During Uncle Frank’s fervid outburst from his heart that felt so much, his voice, usually weak, grew in mellow strength and fervor, and when ne finished, his eyes were filled with tears. His young nephew hardly moved the while, listening with rapt attention and much emotion. Frank thought he could see the Heavenly light of which his dear old uncle had so confidently spoken, even then breaking upon his aged face. With throbbing heart and tearful eyes, he said: “0, Uncle Frank, I am so wicked! I want to be a Christian, too. I want to be happy like you are now.” “Thank God!” said his uncle; “if you really wish it, and you rightly desire it, God will make you one,” (Concluded on page 13).