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MR. BLAKE'S 
 
 WALKING-STICK 
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY FOR BOYS AXD GIRLS. 
 
 BY EDWARD EGGLESTON, 
 U 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 ' THE ROUND TABLE STORIES," "THE CHICKEN LITTLE STORIES/' 
 "STORIES TOLD ON A CELLAR DOOR," ETC 
 
 CHICAGO : 
 ADAMS, BLACKMER, LYON PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 1872. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, 
 
 BY ADAMS, BLACKMER, & LYON PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
 
 H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 
 
TO OUR 
 
 LITTLE SILVERHAIR 
 
 Who used to listen to My Stories; 
 
 BUT WHO IS NOW 
 
 Htstenfng to tl)e ^Ttjrfstmas Stovfes of t|)e Angela, 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED. 
 
 906806 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 / have meant tQ furnish a book that would serve 
 for a Christmas present to Sunday -scholars, either 
 from the school or from their teachers. I hope it 
 is a story, however, appropriate to all seasons, and 
 that it will enforce one of the most beautiful and 
 one of the most frequently forgotten precepts of the 
 Lord Jesus. 
 
 EDWARD EGGLESTON. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE WALKING-STICK WALKS n 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LONG-HEADED WILLIE 20 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE WALKING-STICK A TALKING STICK ... 25 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MR. BLAKE AGREES WITH THE WALKING-STICK . 31 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE FATHER PREACHES, THE SON PRACTICES . . 36 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SIXTY-FIVE DOLLARS 39 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS .... 44 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SHARPS AND BETWEENS 51 
 
TO 
 
 Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ANGEL STAYS THE HAND .re 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 TOMMY PUFFER 
 
 AN ODD PARTY 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 57 
 
Ma BLAKE'S WALKING-STICK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE WALKING-STICK WALKS. 
 
 rlOME mterf -carry c-ines. , -Sonae men make 
 the cancb carry them. I ' never could tell 
 just* what, Mr* Bla'k^ ;cayrj<d fois cane for. 
 I am sure it did not often feel his weight. For he 
 was neither old, nor rich, nor lazy. 
 
 He was a tall, straight man, who walked as if he 
 loved to walk, with a cheerful tread that was good 
 to see. I am sure he didn't carry the cane for 
 show. It was not one of those little sickly yellow 
 things, that some men nurse as tenderly as Miss 
 Snooks nurses her lap-dog. It was a great black 
 stick of solid ebony, with a box-wood head, and I 
 think Mr. Blake carried it for company. And it 
 had a face, like that of an old man, carved on one 
 
12 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 side of the box-wood head. Mr. Blake kept it 
 ringing in a hearty way upon the pavement as he 
 walked, and the boys would look up from their 
 marbles when they heard it, and say : " There 
 comes Mr. Blake, the minister ! " And I think that 
 nearly every invalid and poor person in Thornton 
 knew the cheerful voice of the minister's stout ebony 
 stick. 
 
 It was a clear, crisp, sunshiny morning in Decem- 
 ber. The leaves were all gone, and the long lines 
 of white frame houses that were hid away in the 
 thick trees during the summer, showed themselves 
 standing in straight rows lioXv that the trees were 
 bare. Anc 1 Purser, Pont'tlcfe Co. s great factory on 
 the brook in the valley below was plainly to be 
 seen, with its long rows of windows shining and 
 shimmering in the brilliant sun, and its brick 
 chimney reached up like the Tower of Babel, and 
 poured out a steady stream of dense, black smoke. 
 
 It was just such a shining winter morning. Mr. 
 Blake and his walking-stick were just starting out for 
 a walk together. " It's a fine morning," thought the 
 minister, as he shut the parsonage gate. And when 
 he struck the cane sharply on the stones it answered 
 him cheerily : " It's a fine morning ! " The cane 
 
The Walking-Stick Walks. 13 
 
 always agreed with Mr. Blake. So they were able 
 to walk together, according to Scripture, because 
 they were agreed. 
 
 Just as he came round the corner the minister 
 found a party of boys waiting for him. They had 
 already heard the cane remarking that it was a fine 
 morning before Mr. Blake came in sight. 
 
 " Good morning ! Mr. Blake," said the three 
 boys. 
 
 "Good morning, my boys; I'm glad to see you," 
 said the minister, and he clapped "Old Ebony" 
 down on the sidewalk, and it said " I am glad to see 
 you." 
 
 " Mr. Blake ! " said Fred White, scratching his 
 brown head and looking a little puzzled. " Mr. 
 Blake, if it ain't any harm if you don't mind, you 
 know, telling a fellow, a boy, I mean " Just 
 here he stopped talking ; for though he kept on 
 scratching vigorously, no more words would come ; 
 and comical Sammy Bantam, who stood alongside, 
 whispered, " Keep a-scratching, Fred ; the old cow 
 will give down after a while ! " 
 
 Then Fred laughed, and the other boys, and the 
 minister laughed, and the cane could do nothing but 
 stamp its foot in amusement. 
 
14 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 " Well, Fred," said the minister, " What is it ? 
 speak out." But Fred couldn't speak now for 
 laughing, and Sammy had to do the talking himself. 
 He was a stumpy boy, who had stopped off short; 
 and you couldn't guess his age, because his face was 
 so much older than his body. 
 
 " You see, Mr. Blake," said Sammy, "we boys 
 wanted to know, if there wasn't any harm in your 
 telling, why, we wanted to know what kind of a 
 
 thing we are, going to have on Christmas at our 
 
 I 
 Sunday-school." 
 
 " Well, boys, I don't know any more about it yet 
 than you do. The teachers will talk it over at their 
 next meeting. They have already settled some 
 things, but I have not heard what." 
 
 " I hope it will be something good to eat," said 
 Tommy Puffer. Tommy's body looked for all the 
 world like a pudding-bag. It was an india-rubber 
 pudding-bag, though. I shouldn't like to say that 
 Tommy was a glutton. Not at all. But I am sure 
 that no boy of his age could put out of sight, in the 
 same space of time, so many dough-nuts, ginger- 
 snaps, tea-cakes, apple-dumplings, pumpkin-pies, 
 jelly-tarts, puddings, ice-creams, raisins, nuts, and 
 other things of the sort. Other people stared at him 
 
The Walking- Stick Walks. 15 
 
 in wonder. He was never too full to take anything 
 that was offered him, and at parties his weak and 
 foolish mother was always getting all she could to 
 stuff Tommy with. So when Tommy said he hoped 
 it would be something nice to eat, and rolled his 
 soft lips about, as though he had a cream tart in his 
 mouth, all the boys laughed, and Mr. Blake smiled. 
 I think even the cane would have smiled if it had 
 thought it polite. 
 
 " I hope it'll be something pleasant," said Fred 
 Welch. 
 
 " So do I," said stumpy little Tommy Bantam. 
 
 " So do I, boys," said Mr. Blake, as he turned 
 away ; and all the way down the block Old Ebony 
 kept calling back, " So do I, boys ! so do I ! " 
 
 Mr. Blake and his friend the cane kept on down 
 the street, until they stood in front of a building 
 that was called "The Yellow Row." It was a long, 
 two-story frame building, that had once been inhab- 
 ited by genteel people. Why they ever built it in 
 that shape, or why they daubed it with yellow paint, 
 is more than I can tell. But it had gone out of 
 fashion, and now it was, as the boys expressed it, 
 " seedy." Old hats and old clothes filled many of 
 the places once filled by glass. Into one room of 
 this row Mr. Blake entered, saying : 
 
1 6 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 " How are you, Aunt Parm'ly ? " 
 
 " Howd'y, Mr. Blake, howd'y ! I know'd you was 
 a-comin', honey, fer I hyeard the sound of yer cane 
 afore you come in. I'm mis'able these yer days, 
 thank you. I'se got a headache, an' a backache, 
 and a toothache in de boot.'' 
 
 I suppose the poor old colored woman meant to 
 say that she had a toothache " to boot." 
 
 " You see, Mr. Blake, Jane's got a little sumpin 
 to do now, and we can git bread enough, thank the 
 Lord, but as fer coal, that's the hardest of all. We 
 has to buy it by the bucketful, and that's mity high 
 at fifteen cents a bucket. An' pears like we couldn't 
 never git nothin' a-head on account of my roomatiz. 
 Where de coal's to come from dis ere winter I don't 
 know, cep de good Lord sends it down out of the 
 sky -, and I reckon stone-coal don't never come dat 
 dar road." 
 
 After some more talk, Mr. Blake went in to see 
 Peter Sitles, the blind broom-maker. 
 
 " I hyeard yer stick, preacher Blake," said Sitles. 
 " That air stick o' yourn's better'n a whole rigimint 
 of doctors fer the blues. An' I've been a havin' on 
 the blues powerful bad, Mr. Blake, these yer last 
 few days. I remembered what you was a-saying the 
 
The Walking-Stick Walks. 17 
 
 last time you was here, about trustin' of the good 
 Lord. But I've had a purty consid'able heartache 
 under my jacket fer all that. Now, there's that Ben 
 of mine/' and here Sitles pointed to a restless little 
 fellow of nine years old, whose pants had been 
 patched and pieced until they had more colors than 
 Joseph's coat. He was barefoot, ragged, and looked 
 hungry, as some poor children always do. Their 
 minds seem hungrier than their bodies. He was 
 rocking a baby in an old cradle. "There's Ben," 
 continued the blind man, " he's as peart a boy as 
 you ever see, preacher Blake, ef I do say it as hadn't 
 orter say it. Bennie hain't got no clothes. I can't 
 beg. But Ben orter be in school." Here Peter 
 Sitles choked a little. 
 
 u How's broom-making, Peter ? " said the min- 
 ister. 
 
 " Well, you see, it's the machines as is a-spoiling 
 us. The machines make brooms cheap, and what 
 can a blind feller like me do agin the machines with 
 nothing but my fingers ? 'Tain't no sort o' use to 
 butt my head agin the machines, when I ain't got no 
 eyes nother. It's like a goat trying its head on a 
 locomotive. Ef I could only eddicate Peter and the 
 other two, I'd be satisfied. You see, I never had no 
 
1 8 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 book-larnin' myself, and I can't talk proper no more'n 
 a cow can climb a tree." 
 
 " But, Mr. Sitles, how much would a broom-ma- 
 chine cost you ? " asked the minister. 
 
 " More'n it's any use to think on. It'll cost sev- 
 enty dollars, and if it cost seventy cents 'twould be 
 jest exactly seventy cents more'n I could afford to 
 pay. For the money my ole woman gits fer washin' 
 don't go noways at all towards feedin' the four chil- 
 dren, let alone buying me a machine." 
 
 The minister looked at his cane, but it did not 
 answer him. Something must be done. The min- 
 ister was sure of that. Perhaps the walking-stick 
 was, too. But what ? 
 
 That was the question. 
 
 The minister told Sitles good-bye, and started to 
 make other visits. And on the way the cane kept 
 crying out, " Something must be done, something 
 MUST be done, something MUST be done," mak- 
 ing the must ring out sharper every time. When 
 Mr. Blake and the walking-stick got to the market- 
 house, just as they turned off from Milk Street into 
 the busier Main Street, the cane changed its tune 
 and begun to say, " But what, but what, but 
 WHAT, but WHAT," 'until it said it so sharply 
 
The Walking- Stick Walks. 19 
 
 that the minister's head ached, and he put Old 
 Ebony under his arm, so that it couldn't talk any 
 more. It was a way he had of hushing it up when 
 he wanted to think. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 L ONG-HEA DED WILLIE. 
 
 E biskits is cold, and de steaks is cold 
 as as ice, and dinner's spiled ! " 
 said Curlypate, a girl about three years 
 old, as Mr. Blake came in from his forenoon of 
 visiting. She tried to look very much vexed and 
 "put out," but there was always either a smile or 
 a cry hidden away in her dimpled cheek. 
 
 " Pshaw ! Curlypate,' 7 said Mr. Blake, as he put 
 down his cane, " you don't scold worth a cent ! " 
 And he lifted her up and kissed her. 
 
 And then Mamma Blake smiled, and they all sat 
 down to the table. While they ate, Mr. Blake told 
 about his morning visits, and spoke of Parm'ly with- 
 out coal, and Peter Sitles with no broom-machine, 
 and described little Ben Sitles's hungry face, and 
 told how he had visited the widow Martin, who had 
 no sewing-machine, and who had to receive help 
 from the overseer of the poor. The overseer told 
 
Long-Headed Willie. 21 
 
 her that she must bind out her daughter, twelve 
 years old, and her boy of ten, if she expected to 
 have any help ; and the mother's heart was just 
 about broken at the thought of losing her children. 
 
 Now, while all this was taking place, Willie Blake, 
 the minister's son, a boy about thirteen years of age, 
 sat by the big porcelain water-pitcher, listening to 
 all that was said. His deep blue eyes looked over 
 the pitcher at his father, then at his mother, taking 
 in all their descriptions of poverty with a wondrous 
 pitifulness. But he did not say much. What went 
 on in his long head I do not know, for his was one 
 of those heads that projected forward and back- 
 ward, and the top of which overhung the base, for all 
 the world like a load of hay. Now and then his 
 mother looked at him, as if she would like to see 
 through his skull and read his thoughts. But I think 
 she didn't see anything but the straight, silken, fine, 
 flossy hair, silvery white, touched a little bit, only 
 a little, as he turned it in looking from one to the 
 other, with a tinge of what people call a golden, but 
 what is really a sort of a pleasant straw color. He 
 usually talked, and asked questions, and laughed 
 like other boys ; but now he seemed to be swallowing 
 the words of his father and mother more rapidly even 
 
22 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 than he did his dinner ; for, like most boys, he ate 
 as if it were a great waste of time to eat. But when 
 he was done he did not hurry off as eagerly as usual 
 to reading or to play. He sat and listened. 
 
 "What makes you look so sober, Willie?" asked 
 Helen, his sister. 
 
 " What you thinkin', Willie ? " said Curlypate, 
 peering through the pitcher handle at him. 
 
 " Willie," broke in his father, " mamma and I are 
 going to a wedding out at Sugar Hill " 
 
 " Sugar Hill ; O my ! " broke in Curlypate. 
 
 " Out at Sugar Hill," continued Mr. Blake, strok- 
 ing the Curlypate, "and as I have some calls to 
 make, we shall not be back till bedtime. I am sorry 
 to keep you from your play this Saturday afternoon, 
 but we have no other housekeeper but you and 
 Helen. See that the children get their suppers 
 early, and be careful about fire." 
 
 I believe to " be careful about fire " is the last 
 command that every parent gives to children on 
 leaving them alone. 
 
 Now I know that people who write stories are 
 very careful nowadays not to make their boys too 
 good. I suppose that I ought to represent Willie as 
 "taking on" a good deal when he found that he 
 
Long- Headed Willie. 23 
 
 couldn't play all Saturday afternoon, as he had ex- 
 pected. But I shall not. For one thing, at least, 
 in my story, is true ; that is, Willie. If I tell you 
 that he is good you may believe it. I have seen 
 him. 
 
 He only said, " Yes, sir." 
 
 Mrs. Blake did not keep a girl. The minister did 
 not get a small fortune of a salary. So it happened 
 that Willie knew pretty well how to keep house. 
 He was a good brave boy, never ashamed to help 
 his mother in a right manly way. He could wash 
 dishes and milk the cow, and often, when mamma 
 had a sick-headache, had he gotten a good breakfast, 
 never forgetting tea and toast for the invalid. 
 
 So Sancho, the Canadian pony, was harnessed to 
 the minister's rusty buggy, and Mr. and Mrs. Blake 
 got in and told the children good-bye. Then San- 
 cho started off, and had gone about ten steps, when 
 he was suddenly reined up with a " Whoa 1 " 
 
 " Willie ! " said Mr. Blake. 
 
 " Sir." 
 
 " Be careful about fire." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 And then old blackey-brown Sancho moved on 
 in a gentle trot, and Willie and Helen and Richard 
 
24 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 went into the house, where Curlypate had already 
 gone, and where they found her on tiptoe, with her 
 short little fingers in the sugar-bowl, trying in vain 
 to find a lump that would not go to pieces in the 
 vigorous squeeze that she gave it in her desire to 
 make sure of it. 
 
 So Willie washed the dishes, while Helen wiped 
 them, and Richard put them away, and they had a 
 'merry time, though Willie had to soothe several 
 rising disputes between Helen and Richard. Then 
 a glorious lot of wood was gotten in, and Helen 
 came near sweeping a hole in the carpet in her eager 
 desire to " surprise mamma." Curlypate went in 
 the parlor and piled things up in a wonderful way, 
 declaring that she, too, was going to " susprise mam- 
 ma." And doubtless mamma would have felt no 
 little surprise if she could have seen the parlor after 
 Curlypate "put it to rights." 
 
 Later in the evening the cow was milked, and a 
 plain supper of bread and milk eaten. Then Rich- 
 ard and Curlypate were put away for the night. 
 And presently Helen, who was bravely determined 
 to keep Willie company, found her head trying to 
 drop off her shoulders, and so she had to give up 
 to the * c sand man," and go to bed. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE WALKING-STICK A TALKING STICK. 
 
 ^ILLIE was now all by himself. He put on 
 more wood, and drew the rocking-chair up 
 by the fire, and lay back in it. It was very 
 still ; he could hear every mouse that moved. The 
 stillness seemed to settle clear down to his heart. 
 Presently a wagon went clattering by. Then, as the 
 sound died away in the distance, it seemed stiller 
 than ever. Willie tried to sleep; but he couldn't. 
 He kept listening ; and after all he was listening to 
 nothing; nothing but that awful clock, that would 
 keep up such a tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick. The 
 curtains were down, and Willie didn't dare to raise 
 them, or to peep out. He could feel how dark it 
 was out doors. 
 
 But presently he forgot the stillness. He fell to 
 thinking of what Mr. Blake had said at dinner. He 
 thought of poor old rheumatic Parm'ly, and her 
 single bucket of coat at a time. He thought of the 
 
26 Mr. lake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 blind broom-maker who needed a broom-machine, 
 and of the poor widow whose children must be taken 
 away because the mother had no sewing-machine. 
 All of these thoughts made the night seem dark, and 
 they made Willie's heart heavy. But the thoughts 
 kept him company. 
 
 Then he wished he was rich, and he thought if he 
 were as rich as Captain Purser, who owned the mill, 
 he would giye away sewing-machines to all poor 
 widows who needed them. But pshaw ! what was 
 the use of wishing ? His threadbare pantaloons told 
 him how far off he was from being rich. 
 
 But he would go to the Polytechnic ; he would 
 become a civil engineer. He would make a fortune 
 some day when he became celebrated. Then he 
 would give widow Martin a sewing-machine. This 
 was the nice castle in the air that Willie built. But 
 just as he put on the last stone a single thought 
 knocked it down. 
 
 What would become of the widow and her chil- 
 dren while he was learning to be an engineer and 
 making a fortune afterward ? And where would he 
 get the money to go to the Polytechnic ? This last 
 question Willie had asked every day for a year or 
 two past. 
 

The Walking-Stick a Talking Stick. 27 
 
 Unable to solve this problem, his head grew tired, 
 and he lay down on the lounge, saying to himself, 
 " Something must be done ! " 
 
 " Something must be done ! " Willie was sure 
 somebody spoke. He looked around. There was 
 nobody in the room. 
 
 " Something must be done ! " This time he saw 
 in the corner of the room, barely visible in the 
 shadow, his father's cane. The voice seemed to 
 come from that corner. 
 
 "Something MUST be done!" Yes, it was the 
 cane. He could see its "yellow head, and the face 
 on one side was toward him. How bright its eyes 
 were ! It did not occur to Willie just then that 
 there was anything surprising in the fact that the 
 walking-stick had all at once become a talking 
 stick. 
 
 "Something MUST be done!" said the cane, 
 lifting its one foot up and bringing it down with 
 emphasis at the word must. Willie felt pleased 
 that the little old man I mean the walking-stick 
 should come to his help. 
 
 " I tell you what," said Old Ebony, hopping out 
 of his shady corner ; " I tell you what," it said, and 
 then stopped as if to reflect ; then finished by say- 
 ing, " It's a shame ! " 
 
28 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 Willie was about to ask the cane to what he re- 
 ferred, but he thought best to wait till Old Ebony 
 got ready to tell of his own accord. But the walk- 
 ing-stick did not think best to answer immediately, 
 but took entirely a new and surprising track. It 
 actually went to quoting Scripture ! 
 
 " My eyes are dim," said the cane, " and I never 
 had much learning ; canes weren't sent to school 
 when I was young. Won't you read the thirty-fifth 
 verse of the twentieth chapter of Acts." 
 
 Willie turned to the stand and saw the Bible open 
 at that verse. He did not feel surprised. It seemed 
 natural enough to him. He read the verse, not 
 aloud, but to himself, for Old Ebony seemed to hear 
 his thoughts. He read : 
 
 " Ye ought to support the weak, and to remem- 
 ber the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is 
 more blessed to give than to receive." 
 
 " Now," said the walking-stick, stepping or hop- 
 ping up toward the lounge and leaning thoughtfully 
 over the head of it, " Now, I say that it is a shame 
 that when the birthday of that Lord Jesus, who 
 gave himself away, and who said it is more blessed 
 to give than to receive, comes round, all -of you 
 Sunday-school scholars are thinking only of what 
 you are going to get." 
 
The Walking-Stick a Talking Stick. 29 
 
 Willie was about to say that they gave as well as 
 received on Christmas, and that his class had already 
 raised the money to buy a Bible Dictionary for their 
 teacher. But Old Ebony seemed to guess his 
 thought, and he only said, " And that's another 
 shame ! " 
 
 Willie couldn't see how this could be, and he 
 thought the walking-stick was using very strong lan- 
 guage indeed. I think myself the cane spoke too 
 sharply, for I don't think the harm lies in giving to 
 and receiving from our friends, but in neglecting the 
 poor. But you don't care what I think, you want to 
 know what the cane said. 
 
 " I'm pretty well acquainted with Scripture," said 
 Old Ebony, " having spent fourteen years in com- 
 pany with a minister. Now won't you please read 
 the twelfth and thirteenth verses of the fourteenth 
 chapter of" 
 
 But before the cane could finish the sentence, 
 Willie heard some one opening the door. It was 
 his father. He looked round in bewilderment. The 
 oil in the lamp had burned out, and it was dark. 
 The fire was low, and the room chilly. 
 
 " Heigh-ho, Willie, my son," said Mr. Blake, 
 " where's your light, and where's your fire. This is 
 a cold reception. What have you been doing? " 
 
30 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 "Listening to the cane talk/' he replied ; and 
 thinking what a foolish answer that was, he put on 
 some more coal, while his mother, who was lighting 
 the lamp, said he must have been dreaming. The 
 walking-stick stood in its corner, face to the wall, as 
 if it had never been a talking stick. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MR. BLAKE AGREES WITH THE WALKING-STICK. 
 
 ARLY on Sunday morning Willie awoke 
 and began to think about Sitles, and to 
 wish he had money to buy him a broom- 
 machine. And then he thought of widow Martin. 
 But all his thinking would do no good. Then he 
 thought of what Old Ebony had said, and he wished 
 he could know what that text was that the cane was 
 just going to quote. 
 
 " It was," said Willie, "the twelfth and thirteenth 
 verses of the fourteenth chapter of something. I'D 
 see." 
 
 So he began with the beginning of the Bible, arid 
 looked first at Genesis xiv. 12, 13. But it was about 
 the time when Abraham had heard of the capture of 
 Lot and mustered his army to recapture him. He 
 thought a minute. 
 
 u That can't be what it is," said Willie, " I'll look 
 at Exodus." 
 
32 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 f 
 
 In Exodus it was about standing still at the Red 
 
 Sea and waiting for God's salvation. It might mean 
 that God would deliver the poor. But that was not 
 just what the cane was talking about. It was about 
 giving gifts to friends. So he went on to Leviticus. 
 But it was about the wave offering, and the sin 
 offering, and the burnt offering. That was not it. 
 And so he went from book to book until he had 
 reached the twelfth and thirteenth verses of the four- 
 teenth chapter of the book of Judges. He was just 
 reading in that place about Samson's riddle, when 
 his mamma called him to breakfast. 
 
 He was afraid 4 to say anything about it at the 
 table for fear of being laughed at. But he was full of 
 what the walking-stick said. And at family worship 
 his father read the twentieth chapter of Acts. When 
 he came to the part about its being more blessed to 
 give than to receive, Willie said, " That's what the 
 cane said." 
 
 " What did you say ? " asked his father. 
 
 " I was only thinking out loud," said Willie. 
 
 " Don't think out loud while I am reading," said 
 Mr. Blake. 
 
 Willie did not find time to look any further for 
 the other verses. He wished his father had hap- 
 
Mr. Blake agrees with the Walking- Stick. 33 
 
 pened on them instead of the first text which the 
 cane quoted. 
 
 In church he kept thinking all the time about the 
 cane. " Now what could it mean by the twelfth 
 and thirteenth verses of the fourteenth chapter ? 
 There isn't anything in the Bible against giving 
 away presents to one's friends. It was only a dream 
 anyhow, and maybe there's nothing in it." 
 
 But he forgot the services, I am sorry to say, in 
 his thoughts. At last Mr. Blake arose to read his 
 text. Willie looked at him, but thought of what the 
 cane said. But what was it that attracted his atten- 
 tion so quickly ? 
 
 " The twelfth and thirteenth verses " 
 
 " Twelfth and thirteenth ! " said Willie to him- 
 self. 
 
 " Of the fourteenth chapter," said the minister. 
 
 " Fourteenth chapter ! " said Willie, almost aloud. 
 
 " Of Luke." 
 
 Willie was all ears, while Mr. Blake read : "Then 
 said he also to him that bade him, When thou mak- 
 est a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor 
 thy brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy rich 
 neighbors, lest they also bid thee again, and a 
 recompense be made thee. But when thou makest 
 3 
 
34 Mr. Blake's Wai king- Stick. 
 
 a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the 
 blind." 
 
 " That's it ! " he said, half aloud, but his mother 
 jogged him. 
 
 The minister added the next verse also, and read : 
 " And thou shalt be blessed, for they cannot recom- 
 pense thee ; for thou shalt be recompensed at the 
 resurrection of the just." 
 
 Willie had never listened to a sermon as he did 
 to that. He stopped two or three times to wonder 
 whether the cane had been actually about to repeat 
 his father's text to him, or whether he had not heard 
 his father repeat it at some time, and had dreamed 
 about it. 
 
 I am not going to tell you much about Mr. 
 Blake's sermon. It was a sermon that he and the 
 walking-stick had prepared while they were going 
 round among the poor. I think Mr. Blake did not 
 strike his cane down on the sidewalk for nothing. 
 Most of that sermon must have been hammered out 
 in that way, when he and the walking-stick were 
 saying, " Something must be done ! " For that was 
 just what that sermon said. It told about the wrong 
 of forgetting, on the birthday of Christ, to do any- 
 thing for the poor. It made everybody think. But 
 
Mr. Blake agrees with the Walking- Stick. 35 
 
 Mr. Blake did not know how much of that ser- 
 mon went into Willie Blake's long head, as he sat 
 there with his white full forehead turned up to his 
 father. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE FATHER PREACHES AND THE SON PRACTICES. 
 
 HAT afternoon, Willie was at Sunday-school 
 long before the time. He had a plan. 
 
 "I'll tell you what, boys," said he, 
 "let's not give Mr. Marble anything this year; 
 and let's ask him not to give us anything. Let's 
 get him to put the money he would use for us with 
 the money we should spend on a present for him, 
 and give it to buy coal for Old Aunt Parm'ly." 
 
 "I mean to spend all my money on soft gum 
 drops and tarts," said Tommy Puffer ; " they're 
 splendid ! " and with that he began, as usual, to roll 
 his soft lips together in a half chewing, half sucking 
 manner, as if he had a half dozen cream tarts under 
 his tongue, and two dozen gum drops in his cheeks. 
 
 " Tommy," said stumpy little Sammy Bantam, 
 " it's a good thing you didn't live in Egypt, Tommy, 
 in the days of Joseph." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Tommy. 
 
Father Preaches and Son Practices. 37 
 
 "Because," said Sammy, looking around the room 
 absently, as if he hardly knew what he was going 
 to say, " because, you see " and then he opened 
 a book and began to read, as if he had forgotten to 
 finish the sentence. 
 
 u Well, why?" demanded Tommy, sharply. 
 
 "Well, because if Joseph had had to feed you 
 during the seven years of plenty, there wouldn't 
 have been a morsel left for the years of famine ! " 
 
 The boys laughed as boys will at a good shot, and 
 Tommy reddened a little and said, regretfully, that 
 he guessed the Egyptians hadn't any doughnuts. 
 
 Willie did not forget his main purpose, but car- 
 ried his point in his own class. He still had time to 
 speak to some of the boys and girls in other classes. 
 Everybody liked to do what Willie asked ; there was 
 something sweet and strong in his blue eyes, eyes 
 that u did not seem to have any bottom, they were 
 so deep," one of the girls said. Soon there was an 
 excitement in the school, and about the door ; girls 
 and boys talking and discussing, but as soon as any 
 opposition came up Willie's half coaxing but decided 
 way bore it down. I think he was much helped by 
 Sammy's wit, which was all on his side. It was 
 agreed, finally, that whatever scholars meant to give 
 
38 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 to teachers, or teachers to scholars, should go to the 
 poor. 
 
 The teachers caught the enthusiasm, and were 
 very much in favor of the project, for in the whole 
 movement they saw the fruit of their own teaching. 
 
 The superintendent had been detained, and was 
 surprised to find the school standing in knots about 
 the room. He soon called them to order, and ex- 
 pressed his regrets that they should get into such 
 disorder. There was a smile on all faces, and he 
 saw that there was something more in the apparent 
 disorder than he thought. After school it was fixed 
 that each class should find its own case of poverty. 
 The young men's and the young women's Bible 
 classes undertook to supply Sitles with a broom- 
 machine, a class of girls took Aunt Parm'ly under 
 their wing, other classes knew of other cases of need, 
 and so each class had its hands full. But Willie 
 could not get any class to see that Widow Martin 
 had a sewing-machine. That was left for his own j 
 and how should a class of eight boys do it ? 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SIXTY-FIVE DOLLARS. 
 
 H|ILLIE took the boys into the parsonage. 
 They figured on it. There were sixty-five 
 dollars to be raised to buy the machine. 
 The seven boys were together, for Tommy Puffer had 
 gone home. He said he didn't feel like staying, 
 and Sammy Bantam thought he must be a little 
 hungry. 
 
 Willie attacked the problem, sixty-five dollars. 
 Toward that amount they had three dollars and 
 a half that they had intended to spend on a present 
 for Mr. Marble. That left just sixty-one dollars and 
 fifty cents to be raised. Willie ran across the street 
 and brought Mr. Marble. He said he had made up 
 his mind to give the boys a book apiece, and that 
 each book would cost a dollar. It was rather more 
 than he could well afford ; but as he had intended to 
 give eight dollars for their presents, and as he was 
 
40 Mr. Blake's Walking-Stick. 
 
 pleased with their unselfish behavior, he would 
 make it ten. 
 
 " Good ! " said Charley Somerset, who always saw 
 the bright side of things, " that makes it all, except 
 fifty-one dollars and a half." 
 
 " Yes," said Sammy Bantam, a and you're eleven 
 feet high, lacking a couple of yards ! " 
 
 Willie next called his father in, and inquired how 
 much his Christmas present was to cost. 
 
 " Three and a half," said his father. 
 
 "That's a lot! Will you give me the money in- 
 stead ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but I meant to give you a Life of George 
 Stephenson, and some other books on engineering." 
 
 This made Willie think a moment ; but seeing the 
 walking-stick in the corner, he said : u Mrs. Martin 
 must have a machine, and that three and a half 
 makes seventeen dollars. How to get the other 
 forty-eight is the question." 
 
 Mr. Blake and Mr. Marble both agreed that the 
 boys could not raise so much money, and should not 
 undertake it. But Willie said there was nobody to 
 do it, and he guessed it would come somehow. The 
 other boys, when they came to church that evening, 
 told Willie that their presents were commuted for 
 
Sixty-five Dollars. 41 
 
 money also ; so they had twenty-five dollars toward 
 the amount. But that was the end of it, and there 
 were forty dollars yet to come ! 
 
 Willie lay awake that night, thinking. Mr. Mar- 
 ble's class could not raise the money. All the other 
 classes had given all they could. And the teachers 
 would each give in their classes. And they had 
 raised all they could spare besides to buy nuts and 
 candy! Good! That was just it; they would do 
 without candy ! 
 
 At school the next morning, Willie's white head 
 was bobbing about eagerly. He made every boy 
 and girl sign a petition, asking the teachers not to 
 give them any nuts or candy. They all signed 
 except Tommy Puffer. He said it was real mean 
 not to have any candy. They might just as well 
 not have any Sunday-school, or any Christmas 
 either. But seeing a naughty twinkle in Sammy 
 Bantam's eye, he waddled away, while Sammy fired 
 a shot after him, by remarking that, if Tommy had 
 been one of the Shepherds in Bethlehem, he 
 wouldn't have listened to the angels till he had 
 inquired if they had any lemon-drops in their 
 pockets ! 
 
42 Mr. Blakjs Walking- Stick. 
 
 That night the extra Teachers* Meeting was held, 
 and in walked white-headed Willie with stunted 
 Sammy Bantam at his heels to keep him in counte- 
 nance. When their petition was presented, Miss 
 Belden, who sat near Willie, said, " Well done ! 
 Willie." 
 
 " But I protest," said Mrs. Puffer, who was of 
 about as handsome a figure as her son, "I protest 
 against such an outrage on the children. My Tom- 
 my's been a-feeling bad about it all day. It'll break 
 his heart if he don't get some candy." 
 
 Willie was shy, but for a moment he forgot it, 
 and, turning his intelligent blue eyes on Mrs. Puffer, 
 he said, 
 
 " It will break Mrs. Martin's heart if her children 
 are taken away from her." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Puffer, " I always did hear that 
 the preacher's boy was the worst in the parish, and 
 I won't take any impudence. My son will join the 
 Mission School, where they aren't too stingy to 
 give him a bit of candy ! " And Mrs. Puffer left, 
 and everybody was pleased. 
 
 " Willie got the money ; but the teachers had 
 counted on making up their festival mostly with 
 
Sixty-five Dollars. 43 
 
 cakes and other dainties, contributed by families. 
 So that the candy money was only sixteen dollars, 
 and Willie was yet a long way off from having the 
 amount he needed. Twenty-four dollars were yet 
 wanting. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS. 
 
 HE husband of widow Martin had been 
 killed by a railroad accident. The family 
 were very poor. Mrs. Martin could sew, 
 and she could have sustained her family if she had 
 had a machine. But fingers are not worth much 
 against iron wheels. And so, while others had ma- 
 chines, Mrs. Martin could not make much without 
 one. She had been obliged to ask help from the 
 overseer of the poor. 
 
 Mr Lampeer, the overseer, was a hard man. He 
 had not skill enough to detect impostors, and so he 
 had come to believe that everybody who was poor 
 was rascally. He had but one eye, and he turned 
 his head round in a curious way to look at you out 
 of it. That dreadful one eye always seemed to be 
 going to shoot. His voice had not a chord of tender- 
 ness in it, but was in every way harsh and hard. It 
 
The Widow and the Fatherless. 45 
 
 was said that he had been a schoolmaster once. I 
 pity the scholars. 
 
 Widow Martin lived if you could call it living 
 in a tumble-down looking house, that would not 
 have stood many earthquakes. She had tried dili- 
 gently to support her family and keep them together ; 
 but the wolf stood always at the door. Sewing by 
 hand did not bring in quite money enough to buy 
 bread and clothes for four well children, and pay 
 the expenses of poor little Harry's sickness ; for all 
 through the summer and fall Harry had been sick. 
 At last the food was gone, and there was nothing 
 to buy fuel with. Mrs. Martin had to go to the 
 overseer of the poor. 
 
 She was a little, shy, hard-working woman, this 
 Mrs. Martin ; so when she took her seat among the 
 paupers of every sort in Mr. Lampeer's office, and 
 waited her turn, it was with a trembling heart. She 
 watched the hard man, who didn't mean to be so 
 hard, but who couldn't tell the difference between 
 a good face and a counterfeit ; she watched him as 
 he went through with the different cases, and her 
 heart beat every minute more and more violently. 
 When he came to her he broke out with 
 
 " What's your name ? " in a voice that sounded 
 
46 Mr. Blake's Walking-Stick. 
 
 for all the world as if he were accusing her of rob- 
 bing a safe. 
 
 " Sarah Martin," said the widow, trembling with 
 terror, and growing red and white in turns. Mr. 
 Lampeer, who was on the lookout for any sign of 
 guiltiness, was now sure that Mrs. Martin could not 
 be honest. 
 
 " Where do you live ? " This was spoken with a 
 half sneer. 
 
 " In Slab Alley," whispered the widow, for her 
 voice was scared out of her. 
 
 " How many children have you got ? " 
 
 Mrs. Martin gave him the list of her five, with 
 their ages, telling him of little Harry, who was six 
 years old and an invalid. 
 
 " Your oldest is twelve and a girl. I have a place 
 for her, and, I think, for the boy, too. You must 
 bind them out. Mr. Slicker, the landlord of the 
 Farmers' Hotel, will take the girl, and I think James 
 Sweeny will take the boy to run errands about the 
 livery stable. I'll send you some provisions and 
 coal to-day ; but you must let the children go. I'll 
 come to your house in a few days. Don't object; I 
 won't hear a word. If you're as poor as you let on 
 to be, you'll be glad enough to get your young ones 
 
The Widow and the Fatherless. 47 
 
 into places where they'll get enough to eat. That's 
 all, not a word, now." And he turned to the next 
 applicant, leaving the widow to go home with her 
 heart so cold. 
 
 Let Susie go to Slicker's tavern ! What kind of a 
 house would it be without her? Who would attend 
 to the house while she sewed ? And what would 
 become of her girl in such a place ? And then to 
 send George, who had to wait on Harry, to send 
 him away forever was to shut out all hope of ever 
 being in better circumstances. Then she could not 
 sew, and the children could never help her. God 
 pity the people that fall into the hands of public 
 charity ! 
 
 The next few days wore heavily on with the 
 widow. What to do she did not know. At night 
 she scarcely slept at all. When she did drop into a 
 sleep, she dreamed that her children were starving, 
 and woke in fright. Then she slept again, and 
 dreamed that a one-eyed robber had gotten in at the 
 window, and was carrying off Susie and George. 
 At last morning came. The last of the food was 
 eaten for breakfast, and widow Martin sat down to 
 wait. Her mind was in a horrible state of doubt. 
 To starve to death together, or to give up her chil- 
 
48 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 dren ! That was the question which many a poor 
 mother's heart has had to decide. Mrs. Martin soon 
 became so nervous she could not sew. She could 
 not keep back the tears, and when Susie and George 
 put their arms about her neck and asked what was 
 the matter, it made the matter worse. It was the 
 day before Christinas. The sleigh-bells jingled mer- 
 rily. Even in Slab Alley one could hear sounds of 
 joy at the approaching festivities. But there was 
 no joy in Widow Martin's house or heart. The 
 dinner hour had come and passed. The little chil- 
 dren were hungry. And yet Mrs. Martin had not 
 made up her mind. 
 
 At the appointed time Lampeer came. He took 
 out the two indentures with which the mother was 
 to sign away all right to her two eldest children. It 
 was in vain that the widow told him that if she lost 
 them she could do no work for her own support, and 
 must be forever a pauper. Lampeer had an idea 
 that no poor person had a right to love children. 
 Parental love was, in his eyes, or his eye, an expen- 
 sive luxury that none but the rich should indulge in. 
 
 "Mrs. Martin," he said, "you may either sign 
 these indentures, by which your girl will get a good 
 place as a nurse and errand girl for the tavern- 
 
The Widow and the Fatherless. 49 
 
 keeper's wife, and your boy will have plenty to eat 
 and get to be a good hostler, or you and your brats 
 may starve ! " With that he took his hat and opened 
 the door. 
 
 " Stop ! " said Mrs. Martin, " I must have medi- 
 cine and food, or Harry will not live till Sunday. I 
 will sign." 
 
 The papers were again spread out. The poor- 
 master jerked the folds out of them impatiently, in a 
 way that seemed to say, " You keep me an uncon- 
 scionable long time about a very small matter." 
 
 When the papers were spread out, Mrs. Martin's 
 two oldest children, who began to understand what 
 was going on, cried bitterly. Mrs. Martin took the 
 pen and was about to sign. But it was necessary to 
 have two witnesses, and so Lampeer took his hat and 
 called a neighbor-woman, for the second witness. 
 
 Mrs. Martin delayed the signature as long as she 
 could. But seeing no other help, she took up the 
 pen. She thought of Abraham with the knife in his 
 hand. She hoped that an angel would call out of 
 heaven to her relief. But as there was no voice from 
 heaven, she dipped the pen in the ink. 
 
 Just then some one happened to knock at the door, 
 and the poor woman's nerves were so weak that she 
 4 
 
50 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 let the pen fall, and sank into a chair. Lampeer, 
 who stood near the door, opened it with an impatient 
 jerk, and did the angel of deliverance enter ? 
 It was only Willie Blake and Sammy Bantam. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SHARPS AND BETWEENS. 
 
 ET us go back. We left Willie awhile ago 
 puzzling over that twenty-four dollars. 
 After many hours of thought and talk 
 with Sammy about how they should manage it, two 
 gentlemen gave them nine dollars, and so there was 
 but fifteen more to be raised. But that fifteen 
 seemed harder to get than the fifty they had already 
 gotten. At last Willie thought of something. They 
 would try the sewing-machine man. Mr. Sharps 
 would throw off fifteen dollars. 
 
 But they did not know Mr. Sharps. Though he 
 made more than fifteen dollars on the machine, he 
 hated to throw anything off. He was always glad to 
 put on. Sammy described him by saying that " Mr. 
 Sharps was not for-giving but he was for-getting." 
 
 They talked; they told the story; they begged. 
 Mr. Sharps really could not afford to throw off a 
 cent. He was poor. Taxes were high. He gave a 
 
52 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 great deal. (I do not know what he called a great 
 deal. He had been to church three times in a year, 
 and twice he had put a penny in the plate. I sup- 
 pose Mr. Sharps thought that a great deal And so 
 it was, for him, poor fellow.) And then the butcher 
 had raised the price of meat ; and he had to pay 
 twenty-three dollars for a bonnet for his daughter. 
 Really, he was too poor. So the boys went away 
 down-hearted. 
 
 But Sammy went straight to an uncle of his, who 
 was one of the editors of the Thornton Daily Bugle. 
 After a private talk with him he started back to Mr. 
 Sharps. Willie followed Sammy this time. What 
 Sammy had in his head Willie could not make out. 
 
 " I'll fix him ! " That was the only word Sammy 
 uttered on the way back. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Sharps," he began, " my uncle's name 
 is Josiah Penn. Maybe you know him. He's one 
 of the editors of the Thornton Daily Bugle. I've 
 been talking with him. If you let me have a Feeler 
 and Stilson sewing-machine for fifty dollars, I will 
 have a good notice put in the Daily Bugle." 
 
 Mr. Sharps whistles a minute. He thought he 
 could not do it. No, he was too poor. 
 
 "Well, then, Willie," said Sammy, "we'll go 
 
Sharps and Bet weens. 53 
 
 across the street and try the agent of the Hillrocks 
 and Nibbs machine. I think Mr. Betweens will 
 take my offer." 
 
 "O!" said Mr. Sharps, "you don't want that 
 machine. It's only a single thread, and it will ravel, 
 and well you don't want that." 
 
 "Indeed, my mother says there isn't a pin to 
 choose between them," said Sammy ; " and I can 
 give Mr. Betweens just as good a notice as I could 
 give you." 
 
 " Very well, take the machine for fifty dollars. I 
 do it just out of pity for the widow, you know. I 
 never could stand by and see suffering and not re- 
 lieve it. You won't forget about that notice in the 
 Daily Bugle, though, will you ? " 
 
 No, Sammy wouldn't forget. 
 
 It was now the day before Christmas, and the 
 boys thought they had better get the machine down 
 there. 
 
 So they found Billy Horton, who belonged to 
 their class, and who drove an express wagon, and 
 told him about it. He undertook to take it down. 
 But first, he drove around the town and picked up 
 all the boys of the class, that they might share in 
 the pleasure. 
 
54 Mr. Blake's Wai king- Stick. 
 
 Meantime, a gentleman who had heard of Willie's 
 efforts, gave him a five dollar bill for widow Martin. 
 This Willie invested in provisions, which he in- 
 structed the grocer to send to the widow. 
 
 He and Sammy hurried down to widow Martin's, 
 and got there, as I told you in the last chapter, just 
 as she was about to sign away all right, title, and 
 interest in two of the children whom God had given 
 her ; to sign them away at the command of the hard 
 Mr. Lampeer, who was very much irritated that he 
 should be interrupted just at the moment when he 
 was about to carry the point ; for he loved to carry 
 a point better than to eat his breakfast. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ANGEL STAYS THE HAND. 
 
 5JHEN the boys came in, they told the widow 
 that they wished to speak with little sick 
 Harry. They talked to Harry awhile, 
 without noticing what was going on in the other 
 part of the room. 
 
 Presently Willie felt his arm pulled. Looking 
 round, he saw Susie's tearful face. " Please don't 
 let mother give me and George away." Somehow 
 all the children in school had the habit of coming to 
 this long-headed Willie for help, and to him Susie 
 came. 
 
 That word of Susie's awakened Willie. Up to 
 that moment he had not thought what Mr. Lampeer 
 was there for. Now he saw Mrs. Martin holding the 
 pen with trembling hand, and making motions in 
 the air preparatory to writing her name. Most peo- 
 ple not used to writing, write in the air before they 
 touch the paper. When Willie saw this, he flew 
 
56 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 across the room and thrust his hand upon the place 
 where the name ought to be, saying, 
 
 " Don't do that, Mrs. Martin ! Don't give away 
 your children ! " 
 
 Poor woman ! the pen dropped from her hand as 
 the knife had dropped from Abraham's. She grasped 
 Willie's arm, saying, 
 
 " How can I help it ? Do tell me ! " 
 
 But Lampeer had grasped the other arm, and 
 broke out with 
 
 " You rogue, what do you mean ? " 
 
 Willie's fine blue eyes turned quickly into Lam- 
 peer's one muddy eye. 
 
 u Let go ! " he said, very quietly but very deter- 
 minedly, " don't strike me, or my father will take 
 the law on you." 
 
 Lampeer let go. 
 
 Just then the groceries came, and a minute later, 
 Billy Horton's wagon drove up with the machine, 
 and all the other boys, who came in and shook hands 
 with the poor but delighted mother and her children. 
 I cannot tell you any more about that scene. I only 
 know that Lampeer went out angry and muttering. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 TOMMY PUFFER. 
 
 ILLIE was happy that night. He went 
 down to the festival at the Mission. 
 There was Tommy Puffer's soft, oyster- 
 like body among the scholars of the Mission. He 
 was waiting for something good. His mouth and 
 eyes were watering. He looked triumphantly at the 
 boys from the other school. They wouldn't get any- 
 thing so nice. The superintendent announced that 
 no boy's name would be called for a paper bag of 
 " refreshments " but those who had been present 
 two Sundays. And so poor starving Tommy Puffer 
 had to carry his pudding-bag of a body home again 
 without a chance to give it an extra stuffing. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 AN ODD PARTY. 
 
 CANNOT tell you about the giving of 
 the broom-machine to the blind broom- 
 maker ; of the ton of coal to Parm'ly } 
 and of all the other things that happened on 
 Christmas Day when the presents were given. I 
 must leave these things out. As for Aunt Parm'ly, 
 she said she did not know, but dat dare coal seemed 
 like it come from de sky. 
 
 But there was an ample feast yet for the boys at 
 the Sunday-school, for many biscuits, and cakes, and 
 pies had been baked. But every time Willie looked 
 at the walking stick he thought of " the poor, the 
 maimed, the lame, and the blind." And so he and 
 Sammy Bantam soon set the whole school, teachers 
 and all, a-fire with the idea of inviting in the inmates 
 of the county poor-house. It was not half so hard to 
 persuade the members of the school to do this as it 
 was to coax them to the first move ; for when people 
 
An Odd Party. 59 
 
 have found out how good it is to do good, they like 
 to do good again. 
 
 Such a company it was ! There was old crazy 
 Newberry, who had a game-bag slung about his neck, 
 and who imagined that the little pebbles in it were 
 of priceless value. Old Dorothy, who was nearly 
 eighty, and who, thanks to the meanness of the au- 
 thorities, had not tasted any delicacy, not so much 
 as a cup of tea, since she had been in the alms- 
 house ; and there were half-idiots, and whole idiots, 
 and sick people, and crippled people, armless peo- 
 ple and legless people, blind people and deaf. Such 
 an assortment of men, women, and little children, 
 you cannot often find. They were fed with the good 
 things provided for the Sunday-school children, much 
 to the disgust of Tommy Puffer and his mother. 
 For Tommy was bent on getting something to eat 
 here. 
 
 There were plenty of people who claimed the 
 credit of suggesting this way of spending the Christ- 
 mas. But Willie did not say anything about it, for 
 he remembered what Christ had said about blowing 
 a trumpet before you. But I think Sammy Bantam 
 trumpeted Willie's fame enough. 
 
 It would be hard to tell who enjoyed the Christ- 
 
6o 
 
 Mr. Blake's Walking- Stick. 
 
 mas the most. But I think the givers found it more 
 blessed than the receivers. What talk Mr. Blake 
 heard in his rounds I cannot tell. If you want to 
 know, you must ask the Old Ebony. 
 

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