Grandma’s Christmas Present. 
BY FRANK S. FINN. 
Yes, my dears, your grandma is willing 
to tell you a story, if you will promise to 
let her tell it in her own way, and not in¬ 
terrupt her, nor ask any questions about 
who the people were until I get through; 
and also promise me that you must then 
let the sandman come and close your*eyes 
and try to sleep until the blessed Christmas 
morn comes. 
It seems as though the story ought to be 
told on this evening, because so much 
happened in the same on other Christmas 
Eves and you are now old enough to under¬ 
stand the moral of it. 
It may sound to you like a fairy tale or 
.'a book story; but fairy tales are not true 
and my story is; and there are a great 
many stories that never find their way 
into the papers or boobs, although they 
may be just as good for all that. 
The first part of my story took place, 
many years ago, when I wasn’t living in 
England nor in so elegant a house as I do 
now. 
No, I was living “away down east,” in 
Maine, in a quiet little village, not far 
from the railway station. My husband 
was dead, and no child was with me; so I 
lived by myself in a little house of only 
three rooms, and supported myself by 
taking in sewing. 
One Christmas eve I had cleared away 
my supper and was sitting as close as I 
could to my fire, for it was a bitter cold 
night and the wind howled fearfully. I 
was knitting as fast as I could and thinking 
Santa Claus would have a cold and dreary 
iide; and then I began to think of my 
childhood, and how I used to hang up my 
stocking, before I ever learned to knit one, 
and then I fell to dozing. 
When I opened my eyes, I saw, sitting 
at the other side of the stove, one of the 
most forlorn and forsaken looking lads I 
ever saw before or since. 
At first, I thought I had been dreaming, 
so I pinched myself and rubbed my eyes, 
but the little fellow still sat there—as still 
as he could sit for shiveriu„. 
Then he said: “Please ma’am, have vou 
found any Christmas? I have lost mine, 
and didn't know but it might have strayed 
down here. Where I came from they were 
talking about keeping Christmas and giv¬ 
ing Christmas presents, an I when I asked 
them if I was going to have any, they 
shook their heads and said I was one of 
the Towns’ poor,’ and there wasn’t any 
such things for such as me. Old Joe said 
he guessed my Christmas was lost, and the 
best tiling I could do was to set off and 
find it, and so I came. Are you going to 
keep Christmas here, and shall you have 
any Christmas presents?’’ 
I told the little fellow I could keep 
Christmas in my heart, that I was too poor 
to make any presents, and I did not expert 
to recive any; for those who receive, must 
also give. 
Then the little fellow said: “You shall 
have a present for I will give you me. I 
will give you myself and I’ll come and live 
along with you, and I'll help you do every¬ 
thing you want me to.” 
I smiled to myself in thinking of his 
odd ideas, and the queer Christmas gift he 
had brought me; but I told him that, 
though I thought he was very generous, 
I could uot accept his present because I 
was poor, and had all I could do to take 
care of myself. And what did that queer 
little specimen of humanity say to me, but 
just this: “Aunt Polly says it isn’t right to 
refuse presents, and everything comes into 
use sometime; but maybe I ain’t useful 
for anything, or wanted by anybody.” 
There was a plaintiveness in the boy’s 
speech and tone that touched me to the 
heart. Then, somehow, the words of the 
song, “In some way or other, the Lord 
will provide” came to my mind; and I saw 
I had always been provided, and hadn’t I 
been promised that I always would be? 
Little had I done, and little could I do for 
the Master; but He had said “Even as ye 
have done it unto the least of these, my 
brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Wasn’t 
this waif by my fireside “one of the 
least,” and couldn't I be doing a little for • 
the Master by becoming one of his mis¬ 
sionaries? yes, I thought, if no one else 
wanted the lad I -would keep him and he 
