Canadian Free Press. (Canadian, Tex.), Ed. 1 Sunday, January 1, 1888 Page: 2 of 4
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his angel Gabriel ter take my affidavid
dat I tank Mistah Simpkinson fo' dis
goose—"
Bang! Another brick.
"Hurry up yo' pray'r, Johnsing, er de
chillern won't nab no ap'tite fo' de blessed
Chrisinus goose," cried Mrs. Johnson, as
she raised the knife.
"I am mos* frew, lub chillern, yo' jess
keep yo' eyes 'pon de yartliquake while
yo' fodder 'splains dis goose bizness to de
good Lo'd. Oh, Lo'd, I
an' stron' an'
9
seen de goose
growin' fat an' stron' an' my poo' ole
mouf did yearn fo' dat bird. I rassel 'gin
de temptaslmn an' weep wid hot tears fo'
rest; but de mo' I rassel de mo' I get
weak. Den I took de goose—"
Biff! Another brick, followed by a
deep, ghostly voice cut short the good
deacon's words.
"The goose is cursed."
The knife and fork fell from jNIrs. John-
son's hands. The children fell back and
the deacon Hopped down again on his
knees and clapped his hands and cried for
mercy from the just wrath of Heaven.
Then all was silent for a few moments.
A rap fell upon the door.
"Go, lub; I dasn't. P'raps it am de
Debil!"
"Den yo' go yo'self. Deacons am good
an' de Debil skip when de good man
come."
"Lizzy Jane, won't yo' please go?"
"Not fo' ten dollars, deacon."
The deacon rose and went to the door.
When he opened it he started back. Jed
Simpkinson! "I don't want to int'rupt
you, deacon. I jess dropped in to say
that I meant the goose fur you. Good
night an' Merry Christmas."
"Glory to de .L 'd! Lub, cut inter de
bird, fo' de cu: \ ..11 riz."
And in short o der the Christmas goose
assumed the bare, bony form of a skele-
ton feast.
THE OLD ANO THE NEW.
THE CHRISTMAS TRUCE.
Out on tin' keen an<l crispy air.
In tones of gladness and of cheer.
The Christmas bells are ringing dear
A truce to hate, ami strife, ami care.
The sword is thrust within its sheath,
Th * deadly doss of war are dumb,
And friend and foe toother come
And twine a friendly laurel wreath.
The old forget that they are old,
The young forget that life is brief.
And they who grieve forgét their grief,
And laugh at tales again retold.
And angel voices siug again,
As sung they on that Eastern plaiu
So long ago, the glad refrain
Of: "Peace on earth, good will to men."
And that good will, that Christly love,
Which since its birth has conquered much.
To-day is felt with keener touch.
And more secure the heavenly dove
Of peace rests on our loved shore.
And near and nearer to the tree
The world is pressing silently
And nearer to the cross He bore.
CHRISTMAS IN PINE HOLLER.
"Wal, I'll be gosh all swizzled an' etar-
nally Lornkersoggled ef this hain't pesky
low mean an' cur'us!"
For two months Jed Simpkinson has
been forcing a goose for Christmas.
Forcing a goose is merely stuffing it, or,
in other words, if the goose will not eat
its fodder, the fodder must be forced
down its throat. Under this peculiar
process a goose will assume gigantic pro-
portions, and have a liver as large as a
boxing-glove. Of course it is cruel and
not natural, "out as Jed had only one
goose, and wanted that goose to go as far
as possible, it was excusable.
"I'll be golderned if I don't have a
goose in spite of 'em!" ejaculated he, as
he rammed his fists into his pockets, and
walked away from the empty goose pen in
disgust. 'Em in his case meant coons;
coons meant colored people, and colored
people meant niggers, Deacon Johnson
and his large and growing family lived in
the immediate neighborhood; hence it
was easy for Jed to arrive at a possible
conclusion concerning the disappearance
of the prize goose.
When Christmas day dawned in all its
yearly splendor of tin trumpets, dauby
taffy, good cheer and hot toddy, Jed went
to his sister's house and ate his goose as
every other bachelor should do who has a
sister.
There was a sound of merriment in the
Johnson household, and Jed's conscience
^ V „ V I 1*1 ri ) i1V ^Pricked him
he wend-
ed his way
toward the
modest cab-
in with slow
cautious
steps.
"Am I do-
in'the prop-
er caper?
Ought I to
spile all thar
fun? If I
wasn't forc-
in* a goose
an' they
wasnt coons
they would
not have
C hristmas
Gol dern it all! Now, if the dea-
con'd only come an' tole me as how he
wanted goose to sorter round up the day,
why, I'd ha' done sum hus'lin' 'mong the
naybors an' got him one. What I hate es
the pesky underhanded way the deacon
took to skin me out'n my goose. I reckon
I'll finish up this job arter all."
Jed reached the rear side of the cabin
and peeped in. The candle upon the
table gave out a weak, sickly light and
made the shadows dance in grotesque
shapes along the patched ceiling and
floor.
"Coons allers eats their goose arter
dark. 'Cause why? 'cause they does,
that's all," softly murmured Jed as he
climbed up the gently-sloping roof and
drew himself up by the side of the cliim-
board. The amicable, dusky spouse with
her greasy, shins* face oozing smiles of
good cheer, stood at the head of the
table, knife and fork poised in hand,
waiting for the good deacon to finish his
long-winded blessing ere she commenced
post-mortem onslaught upon the goose.
And the deacon, he was the personifica-
tion of awe and holy inspiration as he
stood up with hands meekly folded over
his vest, and face upturned:
"De good Lo'd an' Moses will boff wit-
ness dat I am a humble sinner, and not
wuff notiein'. O, Lo'd, I am a sinner,
but dis yer goose—"
Thud! A brick fell down the chimney,
sending a shower of coals out upon the
fioor.
"Massy sakes 'live, Johnsing! It am a
wa'nin'. Flutter yo'selfs, chillern, an'
stamp out dose coals," cried the dusky
spouse. After the coals were stamped
out the black flock once more prepared
for business.
"Notwidstandin' dat we liab already
liab a warnin', I ax de good Lo'd to sen'
The year wanes fast.
His «i.ving wail
Koumfo in the «rale,
Whií*h tosses rain
On sleet-rimmed pane:
He si>?hs his last.
The old year dies.
The rain and sleet
His requiem beat.
And snowflakes fall—
A noiseless pall—
To shroud his obsequies.
Toll, mournful bells!
For memories sad
With fair hopes glad
Rest in his grave:
And mourners crave
Slow-echoing knells.
The New Year comes:
Then, with glad shout,
Ye bells rinji out!
Chant roumlelays!
Keep holy days
In happy homes!
They gay New Year!
O, strengthened hopes,
To come in troops,
To whisper dole
To care-racked souls
And banish fear!
1
Dear Old Santa Claus.
Christmas! Ring out, ye merry bells!
All hail the joyful day! Get up, you
youngsters, and look in jTour stockings.
Ah, yes, get up and examine well the con-
tents of your stockings. How many
thousands of the little creatures live for
weeks in anticipation of the annual visit
of ''Santa Claus." Day after day is anx-
iously counted, and, oh! how slowly they
do seem to move. At last, the eve before
Christinas lias come. The little boys and
girls can scarcely eat their supper. They
are in a hurry to get their stockings off
and hang them up in the chimney for
«lear old "Santa Claus," with his beard so
long and white, to put something into
them. They do so trembling with excite-
ment. And then they hurry into the bed
and to sleep. Oh, no! they cannot sleep.
Sweet anticipation tingles every nerve,
and fills every soul to almost bursting.
iK
STRIKING A MATCH.
goose.
Deft,
le great big eyeballs of the young
Johnsons stuck out like peeled onions as
they ranged themselves around the festal
■
i
1
ill!!
^¡css-fy^Co^/
They are told that "Santa Claus" does
not come till the darkest hour of the
night, when everybody is fast asleep, and
no one can see him. To sleep, then, they
must go if they want their stockings
filled. But they cannot sleep. Their
busy little minds are in a ceaseless whirl.
They think of thousands of things that
they would wish "Santa Claus" to leave
in their stockings. They think so fast
that one-half is forgotten before they can
think of the other half. If they could
get but a small part of what they want,
not only their stockings but the room
itself would be full to overflowing, and
the chimney, too, to the very top. They
are in one state of delirious joy. The
activity of the mind almost makes the
head swim. Then all of a sudden, almost
like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, an
awful thought seizes them. What if in
his hurry Santa Claus should overlook or
pass their chimney? For the first time
the insignificance and sniallness of the
chimney becomes painfully apparent,
and, mercy, what a horrible thought! it is
snowing hard; maybe the chimney will
be buried out of sight, and "Santa Claus"
would not see it at all? This last thought
is almost too much for theift; it sends a
cold chill through their little bodies.
The most horrible demons of delusion
dance with demoniacal delight before
their little eyes. They jump hastily out
of bed and try to look up the chimney,
half expecting to have their worst fears
realized.
They can see nothing but impenetrable
darkness, when the nipping cold brings
them to a realization of their situation
and their little feet patter back across the
room as fast as they can and they hop
again into bed. At last their drooping
e3*es show how sleepy they are. With a
last beseeching prayer to the good Santa
Claus not to forget their stocking, they
fall fast asleep, thoroughly tired out.
Early in the morning they are awakened
1)3' their papa and mamma. With glis-
tening eyes and uncurbed eagerness they
almost fall out of bed. What a glad sur-
prise! The stocking filled to the tiptop
and almost bursting with its heavy load.
Even the floor is covered with things that
would not go into the stocking were it a
hundred times larger.
Oh! and ah! has been repeated a good
many times and still they seem hardly
able to comprehend the situation. They
see so many things that they are at a loss
to know which to take first or which to be
most thankful for.
How could Santa Claus be so kind and
generous? And above all. how could he
know just
precisely
what was
wanted?
Yet the
fact could
not be de-
nied that
right here
before their
It
MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE?
ej'es were
the very
things they
most wish-
ed for, and
had been
talking o f
for weeks in
advance.
Truly San-
ta Claus
must be a
wonderfully clever fellow. He must have
direct, though invisible, communication
with every childish heart in the land. So
extensive and bounteous is his domain
that from within its boundless store he
can gratify the slighest wish of all the
merry little folks that are in existence.
Then all hail to dear old Santa Claus,
the jolly old fellow, and may he reach
every home in the land, and leave behind
remembrances of that day that will do its
world of good and never be forgotten.
Don't hang up any long red stockings
this Christmas. Knss Kringle may not
mind them, but there is a possibility that
the man of the house may come home
slightly befuddled and, mistaking them
for a fire, alarm the entire neighborhood.
A ton of coal and a barrel of flour would
not be too much for many stockings.
[S]
Is ai
>o.
3S1
B¡
joyl
>«nt
IS.
DE A^j
ED.
#dy, L
fiR,
s of all
street.
ty, T<
st bargail
Te
idle for
attei
w. s
sr cji
^way from meTnuige an is ptsfiftbinu umu'iviiie. mo., j
it and still be in the count v. savs
v/enier-
lat he anil his neighbors are heartily
ville, Mo., G. 15. Ruth, Halstead, Ks.. I Paints,
J. A. Finrh, Thirlingame. Ks "
ib counties
tented lai
river, well
adian, un
v to be paU
This is a ba
adjoinin
aiofceene, an rara* — -i _ ■ i ■imim i—..
A tine stock farm five miles from TO Indian Territoi
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Harm & Ludwick. Canadian Free Press. (Canadian, Tex.), Ed. 1 Sunday, January 1, 1888, newspaper, January 1, 1888; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth183631/m1/2/: accessed May 5, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Hemphill County Library.