[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE]
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VOL. III.--NO. 113. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.
Tuesday, December 27, 1881. Copyright, 1881, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.
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[Illustration: "I BRING YOU GOOD TIDINGS OF GREAT JOY."]
"GOOD TIDINGS OF GREAT JOY."
An angel voice on Judah's plain
Announced to men a Saviour's birth:
Each Christmas sends the sweet refrain
Re-echoing wider o'er the earth.
Whence come the joys of Christmas-tide?
A Child from Heaven has given us them.
Above all thoughts let this abide:
_The Christ is born in Bethlehem._
A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY; OR, JO AND HIS PET CROW.
BY MRS. FRANK McCARTHY.
The sharp crack of a rifle startled the echoes around Judge Malcom's
country home, and a big black crow dropped from the wood-pile. Out ran a
little darky boy from the kitchen, followed by Aunt Dinah, his fat old
grandmother.
"Now, you Jo, what you gwine to do wid dat dar crow? You better drap him
like a hot potater. He's a-gwine to de Ole Scratch, whar he belongs."
But Jo had run over to the wood-pile, picked up the poor old crow, and
held it to his bosom. His woollen shirt was open, and down his black
skin ran the red blood of the wounded bird, down his black cheeks ran
the tears, and he rocked himself to and fro in an agony of grief.
"He's done gone dead for suah," sobbed Jo. "Oh, Mas'r Harry! what made
yer kill poor old 'Thus'lem?"
"I'm sorry, Jo," said a handsome lad of twelve, putting down his gun. "I
didn't know it was your crow, and he made such a capital target up there
on that jagged stick, I couldn't help it. Don't cry, Jo; I'll get you
another much nicer pet than that. He's the most broken-down,
dilapidated-looking customer I ever saw. He's blind in one eye, and no
wonder Aunt Dinah named him Methuselah; he must be a thousand years old.
Let the miserable thing die, Jo, and I'll give you one of my bull-pups."
"An' I'll dib oo a pet tennary, Do," lisped little Laura.
"An' I'll gib you a good lickin' ef you don't shet dat dar bawlin',"
said Aunt Dinah. "Why, yer couldn't make more ob a rumpus over a pore
Christian."
But entreaties or threats were of no avail. Jo thanked Master Harry for
his offer of the bull-pup, and Miss Laura for hers of a canary, but he
said he didn't want any more pets if 'Thus'lem died. Then he climbed the
back steps to the room over the kitchen where he and Aunt Dinah slept.
Taking out of an old box a checked shirt, he proceeded to tear off the
tail some narrow strips. These he bound tightly about the bleeding body
of the crow, and finding one leg hanging limp and useless, he cut a
splinter from the box, and set the shattered limb. Then he bathed
'Thus'lem's head with water, all the while calling upon his favorite to
open his eyes and look at him once more before he died.
'Thus'lem seemed to have made up his mind to look at Jo a good many more
times before he died, for his best eye opened and began to blink in such
a lively manner that Jo jumped up and clapped his hands with delight.
"Why, 'Thus'lem," he stammered--"why, why, yer ain't done gone, is yer?
Yer's a-gwine to lib, mebbe?"
"Jes so, jes so," feebly croaked the crow.
Not that I mean to say 'Thus'lem could talk. No member of the crow
family has ever been known to carry on a conversation; but as for those
two words, everybody said they were plain enough when you knew what they
were.
"'Clar to goodness," said Aunt Dinah, "ef dere's any kill in dat dar
crow! He's been froze to deff, an' scalded to deff, an' crushed to deff,
an' shot to deff, an' here he is agin, peart as a maggot. Reckon he's
lived 's long 's de creation itseff, an' looked on wid dat dar crooked
eye o' his'n when Noah built de ark. He's enuff to scar' de life out ob
any one. Jes look at him, Mas'r Harry."
He certainly was a very queer specimen of the bird creation. His body
seemed to be held together with strips of Jo's old shirt, he had only
one leg to stand on, and every feather seemed to straggle in a different
direction.
"He hasn't got off by de skin ob his teef for nuffin," said Aunt Dinah;
"he's chock-full ob inikity, dat dar crow."
"Jes so, jes so," croaked the crow.
But Jo patted tenderly the wounded body of his favorite, and told him
not to mind granny, to be a good crow, and get well and comfort the
oppressed heart of his master.
"For, 'Thus'lem," said Jo, as he settled down to his potato-paring, with
the bird on his shoulder, "I know you's ill-used an' pussecuted an'
slanderized, an' folks don't gib yer no peace, sleepin' nor wakin'; but
dat's acause you's black, 'Thus'lem, an' I's black, an' we's bofe black.
Ef yer woz a lubly yaller canary ob Missy Laura's, you'd hab a mos'
spreneriferous time, 'Thus'lem. You'd hab a shinin' gilt cage to lib in,
an' a boss swing to swing on, an' all de lump-sugar yer could swaller
down, an' Missy Laura'd call yer 'honey' an' 'sugar-plum,' an' let yer
roost on her lily-white finger, an' peck out ob her lubly red lips. Oh,
goodness gracious' sakes alive, 'Thus'lem!" said Jo, his eyes rolling in
his head at the thoughts of such ecstasy, "ef yer woz only a yaller
canary!"
But 'Thus'lem shook his head, as much as to say that he wouldn't give a
rotten cherry for such felicity.
"It's a mos' drefful pity," sighed poor Jo, "dat yer looks is so
mightily agin yer, 'Thus'lem; dat dar nose o' yourn bein' so drefful
hooked, an' dat dar eye o' yourn so powerful skewed. But don't worry
about it, 'Thus'lem; it can't be helped, yer know."
"Jes so, jes so," meekly croaked the crow.
"We'll hab to be sassyfried, 'Thus'lem, an' do de bes' we can. Don' yer
smell de good tings a-cookin', 'Thus'lem? Don' yer sniff up de pies an'
cookies, 'Thus'lem, an' de ginger an' spice an' all de lubly cookin',
'Thus'lem? Dat's acause it's Christmas-time, when eberybody's kinder
happy, 'Thus'lem, even a pore old crow."
"Jes so, jes so," croaked the crow, and apparently a little tired of
Jo's sermonizing, he limped out of his sight.
Shortly after, Master Harry entered the kitchen, and told Jo he had some
very particular work for him to do.
"You see, Jo," said Harry, "Santa Claus is very busy this year, and he
can't get time to provide Christmas trees for folks that have them
handy. We'll have to help him a little." And winking mysteriously to Jo,
he beckoned him outside, and told him the joyful news that he too was to
help get the Christmas tree and greens.
It may not seem such a very pleasant thing to some people to go out in
the freezing air, and hack down a lot of tough cedars, but to Jo it was
simply delightful.
"Jes tink of dat dar, 'Thus'lem," he said to his crow, "'ter be sot ter
work for Santy Claws himseff! 'Pears like as ef de good times is comin'
for dis yere Jo, 'Thus'lem. Mas'r Harry's powerful good to bofe of us
nowadays. It's a bressed Christmas dis yere, 'Thus'lem."
The fact was that Harry had determined to make up to Jo for the grief he
had given him in the careless shooting of his favorite crow. He was
shocked when he saw the agony his careless indifference had given Jo. He
had no idea a little darky like that could feel even worse than he would
if any accident should happen to one of his pets. When Harry found out
that the color of Jo's skin did not hinder him from being a real boy
like himself, with all a boy's appreciation, and much more than an
average boy's feeling, Jo went up a good many pegs in Harry's
estimation, and not having any white boys handy, he made excellent use
of Jo.
There was an air of secrecy about the house that always belonged to
Christmas-time. When the Judge came home from town with his pockets
bulging out, and winked to his wife to follow him to an adjoining room,
nobody thought of prying into their secrets except 'Thus'lem; but then
no one minded him.
Harry had his own secrets too, shared by nobody except Jo. He was almost
too dignified to take a poor little negro like Jo into his full
confidence, but there was a little package in his bureau drawer, and he
was bursting to show it to somebody. It was a likeness of himself nicely
inclosed in a little locket that would just fit upon his mother's gold
chain.
"Don't you say anything about it, Jo."
"Not for de worl', Mas'r Harry. I'd die afore I'd reveal a solemn secret
like dat dar."
"I believe you would, Jo. I think I can trust you."
Jo's heart almost burst with pride at this mark of confidence. He did
not even tell 'Thus'lem, though he was sorely tempted to, as he never
kept anything from his pet crow. The very next day it happened that
another honor was conferred upon Jo.
Mrs. Malcom had shut herself up in her room, and when Jo brought a
scuttle of coal, she did not put aside the pretty purse she was
knitting, but nodded and smiled when she saw Jo looking at it.
"It's for Master Harry, Jo. When I get it done and put a few gold pieces
in it, don't you think he'll like it all the better because his mother
knit it?"
"Shouldn't wunner a bit ef he would, missus. My souls an' bodies! wot a
Christmas this will be!"
"Don't tell him, Jo."
"I'd be chopped into bits afore I'd tell it!"
"Jo is a faithful, honest, good little fellow," said Mrs. Malcom to
Harry; "we mustn't forget Jo at Christmas."
"No, indeed, mamma. Do you know what I think would please him more than
anything? A pretty collar for 'Thus'lem, as he calls that old crow. Of
course we'll give him clothes and things; but he'd like something of
that kind for Methuselah--darkies like trinkets, you know."
"Jes so, jes so," said the crow.
Harry remembered this remark bitterly enough upon Christmas-eve, when
the happy moment had at last come for him to bring forth his treasure
from its hiding-place, and put it triumphantly in the hands of his
mamma.
The Christmas greens were all hung, the Christmas tree was ready for
Santa Claus to trim, and Jack Frost had already begun his wonderful
decorations. Little Laura was fast asleep in her snug little bed; Jo had
gone, whistling cheerfully, to his garret; and even 'Thus'lem had
squeezed himself through the hole in the plaster that led from the main
building to the room over the kitchen, and gone to roost comfortably in
Jo's black bosom.
Jo looked out of the little window up to the clear cold sky. One tiny
star was glimmering there.
"Pears like as ef it might be de bressed star ob Bethlehem, 'Thus'lem,"
said Jo; "it's de berry same hebben, 'Thus'lem, as it woz long ago."
"Jes so, jes so," sleepily croaked the crow.
In the mean while Harry had gone to get his treasure. He opened the
bureau, put his hand to the accustomed place, and lo! the treasure was
gone. With a trembling hand Harry tossed every article over a dozen
times. He looked, as people will for missing articles, in all sorts of
out-of-the-way and impossible places. At length he yielded to the fact
that the locket was gone. The little treasure was lost at the one moment
that it was of priceless value to him; for he could get nothing now to
take its place. It was too late to secure the cheapest trinket. For the
first time since he could remember he must go empty-handed on Christmas
to his mother. Tears of grief, of rage, of disappointment, burst from
his eyes. How in the world could it have gone? Nobody knew it was there
but himself, nobody but--Jo.
"Darkies love trinkets," he muttered, bitterly. "Jo is the only living
soul that could possibly have taken it."
Then he jumped upon his feet, and went down stairs.
"Oh, mamma," he faltered, "I had something for you that I know you'd
like, but it's gone, it's stolen."
Then with clinched fists and streaming eyes, Harry told her of his loss.
"My dear boy," said Mrs. Malcom, "don't grieve; above all, don't lose
your temper on Christmas-eve, of all times in the year. I'm just as glad
as if I had the pretty picture in my hand; and as for poor Jo, if he did
take it, it was from love of your dear face and ignorance of the crime
he was committing. But now that you have as good as given me your
present, you shall have mine."
She went into her little sitting-room and put her hand into the work-box
for her purse. Only that morning she had put in the gold pieces--it
ought to be an easy thing to feel them in the dark. But it was not. She
lit the lamp, and even then her search was vain. The purse was gone. A
serious, sad, and pained expression overshadowed her face. Nobody knew
even of the existence of the purse. Nobody had seen it, nobody but--Jo.
Sighing heavily, she went back into the parlor. "Harry, my son," she
said, "it is so sad to have such a thing happen upon Christmas-eve! I
would not have believed it possible; even now I can scarcely credit my
senses."
Then she told him all.
Harry's face lit with sudden wrath.
"Come, mamma, let's go to Jo's room. I believe he's run away with them.
I don't believe he's there."
Mrs. Malcom followed Harry to the kitchen, and up the back stairs to the
little garret. Her heart smote her as she saw the miserable rags upon
which Dinah and Jo and 'Thus'lem were all sleeping. For Jo was there,
soundly sleeping as if innocent of everything of which they thought him
guilty. How cold it was in that miserable place! How the wind whistled
through the unplastered beams! How scant and wretched was their bed,
their covering! How wicked she had been not to look after these poor
creatures who had served her so long and faithfully! The crime, the
fault, was partly hers.
But Harry had shaken Jo rudely by the shoulder. The startled crow limped
out of his warm black resting-place and blinked maliciously at the
intruders. Jo started to his feet in surprise.
A loud chink upon the old floor was distinctly heard, and by the light
of Harry's lamp could be plainly seen the lost treasures. From under the
ragged quilt had fallen the locket and the purse.
"Oh, you miserable thief!" said Harry to Jo.
Jo's teeth began to chatter in his head, his eyes to roll wildly. He
looked from one to the other in a dazed and bewildered way.
"Wot in de canopy's de matter?" said Aunt Dinah, rubbing her eyes.
"Matter enough," said Harry. "Jo's a mean, sneaking thief. See what he
has stolen from mamma and me."
When Harry held up the little locket and the purse, it seemed as if Jo's
eyes would start out of his head.
"Mas'r Harry, Mas'r Harry," he cried, "I neber fotched 'em here. I neber
laid a finger on 'em; wisher may die on dis berry spot ef I did!"
The poor black had crouched upon the floor, and held up his shaking
hands in entreaty. His teeth chattered in his head, and his face was
overspread with that ashen hue that can make even a black skin pale.
Harry had never seen such abject misery. It blunted the edge of his rage
and disappointment. "Jo, Jo," he said, "don't add lying to your other
crimes. Didn't we find the things here where you had hidden them?"
"Dis beats creation!" said Aunt Dinah. "In all de bressed borned days ob
my life, I neber see de like ob dis. Jes you leab him to me, Mas'r
Harry. I'll wollup de trufe out ob him, ef it takes me all night."
But Mrs. Malcom stepped forward and held her hands over the poor
shrinking head of the little black boy.
"No," she said, "he shall no longer be treated like a brute. I will find
another way to reach his heart. Oh, Harry! oh, my son! the fault is
mine. I have cared nothing for poor Jo--for his body or his soul. Our
dumb, soulless animals are better cared for. I'll wait awhile, Jo; I'll
go away, and leave you to think it over. By-and-by you'll remember all
about it, won't you, Jo?"
Jo shook his head to and fro hopelessly. "Ef you wait until de day ob
judgment, missus, I neber can 'member. It's a mos' drefful mystery how
dem dar tings got here."
"Come, mother," said Harry, in disgust. "I wouldn't have had this happen
for ten times the worth of the things."
"Nor I," said his mother, and they both sat sadly down to wait for the
Judge, who had been detained in town. He was surprised and vexed, when
he came, to find that Christmas-eve was being rapidly spoiled.
"That's the worst of these blacks, they will steal," said the Judge.
"But don't you want to see my presents? They have been kept out of the
reach of thieves."
The Judge took from his vest pocket a tiny jewel-box containing a ring.
Mrs. Malcom had never seen a finer diamond. She quite forgot poor Jo in
her delight and surprise. Then the Judge took from his other vest pocket
an American watch. As he handed it over to Harry, the lad's clouded face
was bright with joy.
But as the Judge was placing the ring upon his wife's finger, it
suddenly slipped from his hold, and rolled away upon the floor. All
three of them stooped to look for it. It seemed scarcely to have left
their sight. They lifted chairs and tables, looked closely around the
solid base of the Christmas tree, but the ring had vanished. Again and
again they fruitlessly hunted. Tired, vexed, bewildered, they looked at
each other in dismay.
"Jo is not the thief, anyway. He didn't take it."
"Who _did_ take it?" said the Judge.
"I give it up," said Harry. "The place is bewitched."
The Judge looked blankly around the room, in utter bewilderment.
Suddenly, he put his finger upon Harry's arm.
"Hush!" he said. "Be perfectly quiet. I think I've got your thief as
well as mine. He's black, but he isn't Jo. Look over there in that
corner; don't you see a spark of light? Don't frighten the scoundrel.
I'll lay a dollar he'll make off with that ring when I give him the
chance."
True enough, a black object moved slowly along the floor, and with it
something that shone like a star.
The Judge softly opened the parlor door. Out hopped 'Thus'lem, with the
ring in his beak.
"It's worth the risk of the diamond to clear poor Jo," said the Judge to
Harry, and carefully they followed the sly old crow. Up the back stairs
he limped, through the hole in the plaster he squeezed his way, and soon
he was clasped to the bursting heart of his master.
[Illustration: "''THUS'LEM, MY PORE HEART IS 'MOS' BROKE.'"]
"Why, why, 'Thus'lem," faltered poor Jo, "I woz afeard you'd turned agin
me, an' believed all de slanderizin'. 'Pears like as ef I don' care to
lib much longer, 'Thus'lem; my pore heart is 'mos' broke. Mas'r Harry
he's done gone agin me, an' missus she's done gone wuss 'n Mas'r Harry;
an' dem dar tings dat fell out o' my bed-quilt goes fur to show I'm a
burgular, 'Thus'lem, even ef I don't know nuffin 'bout it. I s'pect I'll
be put in jail; dere ain't nobody to help a pore black boy. 'Pears like
as ef dat dar sky woz so fur away dat no star of Bethlehem eber shined
dar--leastways for pore black people like you an' me, 'Thus'lem. Yer
don' somehow tink dat yer could scrape 'long in a jail, does yer,
'Thus'lem? Yer could squeeze in an' out de bars, yer know."
"Yes, take him off to jail," said the voice of the Judge. "That's where
he belongs, the rascal. 'Thus'lem's the thief, Jo. Look at him there
with the ring still in his beak. I've heard that crows will steal, but
'Thus'lem beats all the 'burgulars' I know."
"Jes so, jes so," chuckled the crow; and down fell the diamond ring, and
rolled to the feet of the Judge.
Up jumped Jo in wonder and affright. Down he fell upon his knees, and
begged harder for 'Thus'lem than he ever did for himself.
"He's on'y a pore ole crow, Mas'r Jedge, an' don' know no better. He
mus' hab thought I woz mos' drefful pore, an' he'd try to help me. He
won't do so no more, Mas'r Jedge. Will yer, 'Thus'lem?"
"Jes so, jes so," croaked the crow.
"He's chock-full ob inikity," said Aunt Dinah, "an' his neck ought to be
twisted dis berry minute."
"We'll spare his life for Jo's sake," said the Judge, "to show him that
the star of Bethlehem _did_ shine for everybody, black or white, and our
blessed Saviour had compassion upon as big a thief as his wicked old
crow."
"Jes so, jes so," chuckled the crow.
So the Christmas mystery was cleared up, and everybody was thoroughly
happy at last, particularly Jo, who had plenty of presents. But dearer
to him than the apple of his rolling eye was the gift of Mas'r Harry's
second-best watch, which made the fastest time on record, and carried Jo
along into the next week in a single day.
'Thus'lem waxed old in years, sharing his master's prosperity; and I
shouldn't wonder if he was alive and "chock-full ob inikity" this very
day.