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Uncle
Josiah’s
Christmas
h By GRAHAM LINGFIELD
oooooooooooooooooo
(Copyright, 1919, McClure Newspaper Syn
cheate.)
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was all about him. Not
that .Tosiali Miggs had been Christmas
shopping. Oil, no. He was just on
his way from business.
lie took another wistful peep at the
girl on the hoarding opposite and re¬
signed himself to seeing another load¬
ed without stopping. The '
car go hv
fact of tin 1 matter was that Jos Miggs j
was about the loneliest little old man [
in little old Manhattan, and silly ns 1
it may Round, he had adopted a girl I
on a hoarding—an advertising girl—
us his friend. Every day as lie went to
and fr>m the real ( slate office where
he worked he always glanced up at
the hoarding as he passed, and the
girl always seemed So smile hack at
him in a cheery, encouraging manner.
Tonight lie did not feel that lie could
think too much about the girl on the |
hoarding because, when one has only
a very lonely Christmas to look for- i
ward to, thinking about impossibilities j I
only makes matters worse. Ho Jos !
humped his shoulders to the cold wind
that was Wowing and waited for an- i
other car.
It was a sounding thwack that fell j
on his shoulders ns he stood there, and
Jos had to gasp for breath before look¬
ing around to see what had Hit him.
When ho did, however, all he could S
see was a round, grinning face ever
so high up looking down into his. lie
stared at it in perplexity a moment,
then wheeling around exclaimed:
“Why, Tom!”
The tall young man stood and I
grinned while Jos looked him up and
down.
“When did you strike town. Tom? 1
haven’t seen you since you were a lit¬
tle hit of a feller.”
“Two months ago, Uncle Jos. I got
a job with Billings & Kent, the hard¬
ware people. I've been looking for
you, undo.”
“Well, well, Tom. I’m glad to see
you. Suppose we go along and have
some dinner together, eh? How would
that be?”
The big young man shook his head.
“Sorry, uncle,” he said, “hut it can’t
lie done, I’m—I’m promised some¬
where else.”
Mr, Miggs gave him a sly, sidelong
glance. “So that's the way the wind
blows, eh?”
The young man reddened. ‘‘I—I
promised,” he stammered. Then a
bright idea striking him, he grasped
his uncle by the arm.
“But I tell you what, uncle, you
come along with me.”
Uncle Jos shrank back in his over¬
coat. What, he butt In where he was
not wanted? No, indeed. He dragged
his arm out of Tom’s grasp. “Non¬
sense, Tom,” be said. But Tom held
on.
“Now look here, uncle; you’re the
only relative I have in this city. You
“You Come Along With Me.’
just have got to come along and be
introduced.”
And as Tom was nearly three times
as big as Uncle Jos, he almost lifted
him bodily into the street car that
happened to be waiting, and away
they went.
It was with some trepidation that
Mr. Miggs followed his nephew into
the neat little fiat where Tom’s fiancee
lived. He did not feel at all sure of
his welcome. He was only in his
business clothes, and he knew quite
well that his collar was none too fri’sii.
Well, it was Tom's fault for dragging
him there. He would just say how
do you do and then escape—escape
to his boarding house and—and—
lie found himself ensconced in an
easy chair in the cozy parlor. There
was nobody else about, hut sounds
from the kitchen indicated that sorne-
HE street cars were
crowded and the little
man standing on the
sidewalk hitched the
collar of his coat a hit
higher and allowed the
women and children,
with arms laden with
parcels, to c 1 a m her
aboard ahead of him.
It was Christmas eve,
and the holiday spirit
THE CLEVELAND COURIER. CLEVELAND, GEORGIA.
body was busy. Tom took a chair
too, and then started in to tell him
all about it.
Ethel Westcott was a stenographer
at Billings & Kent's and Tom had
fallen in love with tier the very first
day he had gone there. Site lived
alone with her mother, her father hav¬
ing died some years ago, and Tom and
she hoped to be married very soon,
just as soon as he had saved some¬
thing to start on. Then suddenly Tom
sprang up, exclaiming:
“Gee, uncle, I forgot to buy the
cigars!” and seizing his hat from the
hatstand, fled, leaving Mr. Miggs all
by himself in the parlor. For the mo¬
ment Uncle Jos didn’t know whether
to jump up and follow Tom or to sit
where he was.
But Torn was gone, and there was
nothing for him to do but to sit still.
What an awkward predicament to be
in! To be left in a strange house
where nobody knew who he was. Sup¬
posing somebody were to come in—
how was he to explain himself? He
was just wondering what on earth lie
should say, when sure enough foot¬
steps sounded down the passage. They
approached the room.
Uncle .Tos cowered in his chair.
What a stupid Tom was to leave him
like that! Suppose they took him for
a burglar or something. Uncle Jos I
dared not look up. The footsteps were i
almost at the door. They ceased. Mr.
Miggs dared scarcely breathe. He ;
sat as if petrified. What would hap¬ j
pen ?
A scream, perhaps’, a yell of fright!
No, nothing happened. Perhaps it was
only Tom standing tiiere, after nil. At
Smiling Down at Him as Usual.
last the trembling'little man screwed
up his courage and raised his eyes.
For a moment he thought lie must
have fallen asleep and dreamed of
the girl of the hoarding.
She was actually there and smiling
down at him as usual. The same
bright face and curling hair, the mer¬
ry eyes with the friendly glint In
them. Was this Tom’s girl? Why, he
seemed to have known her all his life.
He rose to his feet, a tentative smile
on his pole cheeks. He didn't know
what to say, but there was no need,
for the girl stepped forward.
“Uncle Jos, I’m sure,” she smiled.
“I’ve heard Tom speak of you so
often.”
He waited while site crossed the
room to him and took his hands in
hers. She stood before him, speaking
words of kindliness and welcome.
“We’ve been thinking of you and won¬
dering how we could find you. Tom
said that you were all alone, and we
could not have enjoyed our Christmas
thinking that.” HI 10 stooped and
kissed his cheek. Wondering!)' Tom's
nncie looked at her, tears of gladness
In his eyes. >
No need for Introductions, no need
for explanations; just friendliness and
hospitality. And when presently
Ethel's mother came from the kitchen,
and Tom returned from his shopping,
it was just like a family gathering.
Of Course they made him stay to sup¬
per. and afterword to help hang the
decorations, and when at last he said
gaod-by their voices followed him
down the street “A Merry Christmas,
Uncle Jos. and mind you come early
tomorrow.”
SOWING CHRISTMAS SEED
How the Problem of Storing a Barrel
of Apples in a Small New York
Apartment Was Solved.
A New York couple recently re¬
ceived a barrel of fine apples from a
relative up in the fruit country and
were puzzled for a while, not only as !
to where to put such bulky package '
a
in the narrow confines of a four-room !
apartment, hut also as to how to keep |
the fruit from spoilfng in the steam
heated temperature. As there are
only two in the family, it seemed as *
though they were sure to have some
spoiled apples on hand before Ion g. I
“Might give them away for Christ¬ 1
mas,” suggested the head of the j
house.
“That wouldn’t do at all.” said the f
wife. “But I’ll tell you what we will I
do. You know, there’s a lot of people I
we know who won’t think to send 11 s
any presents this year unless we bring
the matter to their attention in some
way. Now, if I send every one of my
friends a nice basket of apples this
week they’ll all remember our exist¬
ence and we’ll get something from al¬
most every one. I’ll just do it.”
And she did. Now they are looking j
forward to Christmas with much more
curiosity and eagerness than usual,
and have enough apples left to last a*
long as they are likely to keep.
0% Mifitbtne
Br J. E. SHERW1N
(Copyright)
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wonder It did all these tilings, for,
when Warren Brill asked the price,
the salesman replied:
“Seventy-five dollars, sir.”
"Whew!” aspirated Roy Burton, who
had accompanied Brill on his Christ¬
mas shopping tour.
“I’ll take it,” said the latter,
“Why, you’ve gone clear daffy,” re¬
monstrated Burton. “You’ve got no
iittle ones at home."
“N- 110 . that’s so,” replied Warren in
his diffident, hesitating way, “hut, you
see,” and lie grew flustered—“Miss
Deere—”
“Eh! Nellie Deere? Surely you’re
not thinking of giving that grown up
beauty a doll?”
“Oh, dear no!” answered Brill,
and he fluttered like a frightened
schoolboy. “I wouldn’t dare to offer
her a gift. I was thinking of present¬
ing the doll to her little niece, Dor¬
othy. I hope Miss Deere won’t resent
my taking such a liberty. Of course
we’re quite friendly—”
“Friendly!” interrupted Burton.
“That’s putting it mildly. Why, every¬
in love with Nel¬
lie, and the way
she favors your
company shows
how she regards
you.”
“Oh, do you
think so, positive¬
ly?" gasped War¬
ren. His face was
a vast map of
longing hope. “You
don't know how
—how happy you
make me. Just put
tlie doll aside,”
to the salesman. “I shall want some
special records made and I’ll see you
later.”
"It's a bold scheme,” soliloquized
Warren, and proceeded straight back,
to the toy store. He sought out the
salesman. “Now, ns I understand it,”
he said, “a regular baby phonograph
device inside the doll makes it soy
nil those cute things, when you op¬
erate a button?”
"That’s it,” acceded the clerk.
“And I can have a special record
made?”
"Surely. We can uttend to that
for you."
Warren met Nellie on the street the
day before Christmas, and she men¬
tioned the fact that she had been very
much disappointed as to the Christmas
tree they had received, it being strag¬
gly and undersized.
"Why,” spoke Warren eagerly, “I
saw the finest layout of trees down at
Chester only yesterday, Miss Deere.
1 haven’t a thing to do the rest of
the day. Won’t you deputize me to
help give the little ones a good time?”
Warren arrived at the Deere home
with the tree and various packages.
He helped Nellie trim the tree. He
operated the talking doll to even the
wonderment of Mr. and Mrs. Deere,
who at ten o’clock indulgently re¬
tired.
Warren began to act nervous. He
had placed a new record specially
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tell you. and can’t say it. Won’t you
please listen to what my little friend
here, the doll, will say for me, and
then maybe—maybe you’ll say some
filing, too.”
“Dear Nellie, I love you. I know
that you are a star high above me,
and (lie best man in the world un¬
worthy of you; but I can give you
every luxury and add the greatest one
of all—love. Say it’s not altogether
hopeless.”
Nelly blushed peony red. Tlipn she
smiled slightly, almost quizzically.
She moved four steps. They brought
her directly under the mistletoe. War¬
ren arose to his feet.
“Oh Nellie!" he cried, “you—you
didn't get under that mistletoe on pur¬
pose?"
Siie hung her head embarrassed, yet
inviting. He stole to her, brave as
a lion. He circled her waist with
his arm. She snuggled closer; he
pressed his lips to hers.
“Oh, a merry Christmas to all the
world." Ik* jubilated expansively, ami
in the .■■"cents there was the cheer of
& happy, happy man.
HERE never was such
a doll. It was the very
acme of toy invention,
classic of features,
graceful of form, ap¬
pareled in materials
duplications of the
latest modes of fash¬
ion. Flexible of joints,
some inner mechan¬
ism moved eyes and
lips, and then it talked
—talked? Bless you!
yes, in the clearest
w yea i
,
’)
(A fl- 1
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-
.
Ills side, his
finger on the but¬
ton. Nellie was
looping a string
made to order in¬
side the doll. He
set it on a chair
of holly near the
folding doors. She
looked at him
strangely as he
said:
“Miss Deere—
Nellie, 1 have
something to say
to you—that is—
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Only Then.
“Do you write any funny verses
now?”
“Yes, when 1 try to write serious
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To remove pimples and blackheads
smear them with Cuticura Ointment.
Wash off in five minutes with Cuti
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keep your skin clear by using them for
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Wright's Indian Vegetable Pills contain
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A War Sufferer.
The Guest—It’s awful to think of
iho suffering caused by the war.
The I’orter- I’ll say so. Take me.
("instance. 1 was in vaudeville with
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Suit I couldn’t get a hookin' during the
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SWAMP-ROOT FOR
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There is only one medicine that, really
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Start treatment at once. Sold at
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However, if you wish first to test this
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ample bottle. When writing be sure and
mention this paper.—Adv.
Very Creditable.
Twenty million children attend Sun¬
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The Fish go
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or us nam e -
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First-Class Scout—Yes. Especially
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