1568 
o/6c  RUk/'  L  N  E  W-  YORKER 
December  23,  1916. 
■fewy.  K&fiSW ,v 
ws^m  ■  . 
439T 
VOW.  4HBH  SB  * 
I 
Uncle  John’s  Christmas  Box 
By  Ellen  E.  De  Graff 
Myrtle  stopped  playing  on  tbe  organ, 
and  whirled  about,  addressing  the  family 
gathered  around  the  evening  lamp. 
‘Tam?  got  a  conundrum  for  you,”  she 
auiiounccd. 
“One  of  those  that  has  no  answer,  I’ll 
bet.”  said  Tim,  who  was  popping  corn 
over  a  bed  of  glowing  coals.  "I  don’t  get 
caught  twice  the  same  way.” 
“All  right,  Smart.v !  Count  you  out 
then.  You’d  Only  give  some  fool  answer 
anyway.  You’re  never  serious.” 
“Come  on  with  your  conundrum,” 
yaAvned  Edith,  "I  need  something  to  wake 
me  tip.  This  old  algebra  makes  me 
sleepy.” 
“Well,  here  it  is :  IIow  are  Ave  going 
to  give  any  Christmas  presents,  Avith  no 
crops,  no  money,  no  nothing?” 
“Told  you  there  Avouldn’t  be  any  au- 
sAver,"  chuckled  Tim. 
“I’m  afraid  Tim  is  right.  Myrtle,”  and 
Mother  looked  up  from  laying  the  child’s 
coat  pattern  upon  the  ripped-up  overcoat 
on  tlir  table. 
“What  do  you  Avant  In  bother  about 
Christmas  presents  for?  Everybody 
knows  a\m>  haven’t  got  any  money  to  buy 
presents,”  and  Father  looked  up  from 
the  market  reports.  “Every  blamed  thing 
raised  on  a  farm  is  high,  except  hay,  and 
that’s  the  only  thing  I‘ve  got.  If  avo  get 
through  the  Winter  ourselves  Ave’tl  do 
avi-11,  Avithout  trying  to  make  Christmas 
presents.” 
"I  don’t  care  !  I’m  going  to  do  some¬ 
thing  for  Uncle  John,  anyway,”  declared 
Myrtle.  “He  sent  me  this  organ,  and  I’m 
going  to  just  remind  him  that  I've  not 
forgotten  if  nothing  more.” 
Myrtle  had  a  firm  chin.  The  dimple 
might  distract  the  attention  of  the  casual 
observer,  but  the  fact  remained.  Myrtle 
had  a  firm  chin.  It  had  first  begun  to 
make  itself  felt  in  the  family  about 
fifteen  years  before,  when  Myrtle  was  a 
year  old. 
Being  a  reasonable  and  well-balanced 
creature,  her  rule  was  not  only  tolerated, 
but  her  plans,  always  practicable  and 
often  brilliant,  sooner  or  later  received 
the  co-operation  of  the  family,  no  mat¬ 
ter  how  much  they  may  have  been  op¬ 
posed  at  first.  Her  heart’s  desire  was  to 
have  a  fine  musical  education,  but  she 
knew  that  it  was  far  too  expensive  to  be 
thought  of.  She  had  sensibly  concluded 
to  do  as  Avell  as  she  could  the  duties 
nearest  at  hand. 
“I’m  going  to  take  command,”  she 
said  now,  “and  together  Ave  are  going  to 
do  something.” 
“You’re  Avelcome  to,  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned,”  grumbled  Tim.  “Excuse  me 
from  sending  twenty-five-eent  presents  to 
a  rich  uncle.” 
“Never  you  mind,”  said  Myrtle,  myste¬ 
riously.  Thereafter  there  were  “doings” 
in  the  household.  Her  enthusiasm  was 
contagious,  aud  soon  even  Tim  got  inter¬ 
ested. 
"I’m  going  to  send  Uncle  John  a  home- 
cooked  Christmas  dinner.”  Myrtle  de¬ 
clared. 
“We  hain't  got  a  turkey,”  said  Ma. 
"I’ve  got  the  duck  l*a.  promised  me  for 
taking  care  of  the  rest  of  them,  and  it  is 
as  fat  as  butter.  You  roast  aud  Stuff 
it  and  (hen  avo  Avill  all  take  a  baud  at  the 
trimmings.” 
’  Myrtle’s  mother  was  an  excellent 
cook,  and  her  clear  firm  jellies  and  per¬ 
fect  canned  fruit  Avere  the  envy  of  her  less 
skilful  neighbors. 
Myrtle  ransacked  the  shelves  and  se¬ 
lected  three  glasses  of  jelly,  one  of  an 
amber  color,  another  of  ruby  red,  (he 
third  and  most  beautiful,  being  oue  of  a 
pale  translucent  green.  She  stood  each 
in  a  square  of  crepe  paper,  brought’  up 
the  sides  and  corners,  aud  tied  them 
tightly,  and  then  pulled  out  the  top  all 
around  until  it  looked  like  a  flower. 
Each  color  corresponded  to  the  color  of 
the  jelly  in  the  glass.  Then  she  lined  and 
covered  a  box  with  paper,  and  set  in  the 
ruby,  the  amber,  and  the  pale  green 
flowers.  She  covered  the  box,  and  tied  it 
Avith  Christmas  ribbon  attached  to  which 
was  a  card  on  which  Avas  written  : 
"If  that  duck  you're  going  to  eat, 
You'll  need  something  tart  but  SAveet, 
That’s  us.” 
A  glass  can  of  watermelon  pickles  was 
Avrapped  in  corrugated  cardboard,  and 
then  wound  about  Avith  crepe  paper, 
twisted  tightly,  and  the  ends  fringed.  It 
then  resembled  the  old-fashioned  motto 
candies.  That  the  nn/tto  or  couplet 
might  not  he  lacking,  the  following  lines 
Avere  Avritten  and  inserted : 
"Those  .Tell  girls  may  he  tart  and  sweet. 
But  I've  heard  that  they  lack  spice. 
If  of  me  you’ll  deign  to  eat 
I  am  sure  you'll  vote  me  nice.” 
Grandma  made  a  wonderful  fruit 
cake — the-  kind  that  lasts  a  year,  and  im¬ 
proves  Avith  age.  This  was  surrounded 
with  Avhite  parchment  paper,  and  covered 
Avi tli  a  Avhite  paper  doyley.  with  fancy 
edges.  This  Avas  laid  earefuly  over  the 
waxed  paper,  which  covered  the  frosting, 
studded  thickly  with  avIjoIc  hickory  and 
butternut  meats.  The  whole  Avas  packed 
into  a  round  box.  made  by  Myrtle’s  skilful 
lingers.  To  make  it  she  cut  t.A\’o  disks  of 
cardboard,  of  the  required  size,  and  two 
long  strips  of  the  same  cardboard,  one 
the  height  of  the  cake,  the  other  narrower, 
for  the  cover.  She  bound  the  edges  to¬ 
gether  Avith  gummed  tape,  and  covered 
their  junction  Avith  narrow  strips  of  gold 
paper.  Then  she  neatly  covered  top  and 
sides  with  a  Christmas  paper,  all  holly 
and  mistletoe.  Lastly,  she  tied  two 
bright  scarlet  ribbons  about  the  box,  one 
each  Avay.  She  made  plump  bows,  and, 
gathering  the  ends  of  the  ribbons,  sewed 
tiny  sleigh  bells  on  them,  so  that  the  box. 
when  moved,  gave  forth  a  sAA'eet  musical 
sound. 
Myrtle  surveyed  the  box  Avith  satisfac¬ 
tion,  her  head  on  one  side. 
“You  ought  to  please,”  she  said.  “You 
appeal  to  the  eye,  the  ear,  and  the 
palate.” 
The  box  certainly  did  present  an  impos¬ 
ing  appearance.  On  the  inside  of  the 
cover  appeared  the  lines: 
“Of  course  this  cake  was  made  by  Mother ; 
She  says  if  it  don’t  suit,  she’ll  make  you 
another.” 
A  great  generous  ball  of  cottage  cheese 
was  Avrapped  in  paper  and  packed  in  a 
square  box,  with  plenty  of  tissue  paper  in 
the  corners.  Accompanying  it  was  the 
legend  : 
“If  Esau  had  known  of  the  cheese  called 
‘cottage,’ 
He’d  have  traded  for  that,  instead  of  the 
pottage.” 
There  were  tAvo  generous  loaves  of 
bread,  one  of  “salt  rising,”  the  other  yeast 
raised.  On  a  card  were  the  lines: 
Grandma  says,  Avhen  you  were  a  boy, 
And  eating  ‘salt  rising.’  you  never 
could  stop; 
But  in  case  you  tire  of  the  old-fashioned 
kind. 
Here’s  another  loaf,  raised  with  the 
hop.” 
Packed  about  the  loaves,  and  neatly 
wrapped,  each  by  itself,  in  parchment 
paper,  were  a  dozen  little  individual  but¬ 
ter  pats,  molded  into  the  form  of  a  rose, 
Myrtle  Avrote : 
“We  wonder  if,  Avhen  you  eat,  you’ll 
mutter : 
’Aha!  That  tastes  like  Old  Home  but¬ 
ter  !’  ” 
The  mince  pie  Avas  concocted  Avith  im¬ 
mense  care,  from  the  careful  choosing  and 
mixing  of  the  ingredients,  to  the  con¬ 
struction  of  the  faultless,  flaky  crust,  just 
touched  Avith  the  faintest  hint  of  golden 
brown.  This  Avas  carefully  packed  be- 
tAveen  two  Avooden  plates,  tied  firmly  to¬ 
gether.  On  the  top  plate  Avas  Avritten  : 
“When  is  it  true  that  a  man’s  a  mince 
pie  ? 
Cannot  you  take  the  hint? 
Why,  a  man's  a  Mint  Spy  of  course,  you 
know, 
When  he  acts  as  a  spy  iu  the  mint.” 
The  duck  aamik,  of  course,  the  chef 
d’o-uvre  of  the  Avlnde  undertaking.  When 
it  Avas  ready,  lying  on  its  back,  Avith  its 
fat  legs  composed  at  its  plump  sides,  it 
surely  did  look  appetizing.  The  “Poet 
Lariat,”  as  Tim  called  her,  wrote  the  fol- 
loAving : 
“Not  a  porcine  suckling,  but  a  nice  fat 
duckling 
You  draw  for  your  Christmas  dinner 
You  ne’er  shav  a  duck 
That  aamis  nicer  to  pluck 
We  hope  you  Avill  vote  him  a  Avinner.” 
Some  beautiful  red  Brother  Jonathan 
apples  Avere  tucked  iu  the  corners,  and  a 
glass  of  elderberry  jelly.  These  Avere 
Grandma’s  contribution,  and  she  Avrote,  in 
a  someAvhat  trembling  hand,  the  following 
note : 
“Dear  Johnny: 
“These  apples  came  off  from  the  tree 
where  you  fell  aud  broke  your  leg  that 
time.  Do  you  remember?  I  wouldn’t  let 
them  cut  it.  down  Avhen  they  cut  the 
others.  The  elderberry  jelly  Avas  made 
from  the  elderberries  that  grow  on  the 
bushes  by  the  old  swimming  hole. 
“Mother.” 
When  everything  avus  finished,  and  the 
box  about  ready  to  go,  there  still  re¬ 
mained  Iavo  things  to  be  done.  One  Avas 
to  put  iu  the  old-fashioned  daguerreotype 
of  Grandma,  with  Aunt  Myrtle  (taken  at 
sixteen)  standing  on  one  side  of  her,  and 
Uncle  John  on  the  other.  This  had  been 
taken  many  years  before,  for  a  relative, 
and  had  been  sent  away,  and  its  existence 
forgotten.  Myrtle  had  been  named  for 
her  aunt,  and  she  looked  very  much  as 
the  latter  had  done  at  her  age.  Aunt 
Myrtle  had  died  at  eighteen,  so  Myrtle 
never  Sbav  her.  The  other  thing  to  he  en¬ 
closed  was  the  amateur  photograph  of 
Grandma  and  the  present  Myrtle.  She 
had  posed  in  imitation  of  the  pose  in  the 
early  picture,  with  her  arm  around 
Grandma’s  neck.  The  resemblance  be- 
tAvoen  her  picture  and  that  of  Aunt 
Myrtle  was  almost  startling. 
When  Grandma  looked  at  the  tAvo  pic¬ 
tures  together  she  shook  her  head : 
“Do  I  really  look  as  old  as  that?”  she 
sighed.  “I  hate  to  send  that  to  Johnny. 
I’m  afraid  it  will  shock  him.  I  didn’t 
look  like  that  when  he  saw  me  last." 
But  the  picture  Avent  in,  along  Avith 
those  which  Tim  (a  genius  at  the  work) 
had  taken  of  each  member  of  the  family 
Avhile  engaged  in  preparing  the  box. 
Grandma  Avas  seen  in  spectacles  and  big 
apron,  concocting  the  cake.  Edith  was 
taken  dressing  the  duck,  Mother  stuffing 
it,  Myrtle  packing  it,  and  Tim  screwing 
the  lid  of  the  box,  which  Avas  on  hinges. 
At  last  the  box  was  ready,  and  it  made 
a  brave  appearance  indeed,  for  it  had 
been  painted  a  rich  cardinal  color,  and  in 
the  corners,  Myrtle  had  transferred  pic¬ 
tures  of  holly  and  mistletoe  hunches. 
*******$ 
It  was  Christmas  Eve. 
Uncle  John  sat  in  his  bachelor jhome, 
his  fpet.  stretched  out  before  a  comfortable 
grate  fire,  his  good  old  pipe  in  his  month. 
When  T  nolo  John  aauis  in  a  reminiscent 
mood  he  always  smoked  a  pipe. 
The  housekeeper  knocked  softly  pt  the 
door.  “The  expressman  is  here.  He  has 
brought  a  most  remarkable  looking  box 
and  lie  says  to  sign  right  here." 
The  box  aauis  brought  in.  “Please  bring 
a  screw  driver,”  he  said. 
The  screw  driver  in  his  hand,  he  waited 
until  the  housekeeper  had  left  the  room. 
He  had  not.  kept  much  track  of  his. 
home  folks  back  on  the  farm.  After  Sis¬ 
ter  Myrtle  died,  he  hated  to  ever  think  of 
going  back.  Myrtle— the  good  felloAV,  the 
charming  companion — as  good  as  any  boy 
— never  took  a  dare — even  kept  him  on 
the  qui  vive  to  keep  up  Avith  her  (she  Avas 
tAvo  years  older).  “Ah.”  sighed  lie. 
“There  never  avos  another  girl  like 
Myrtle.” 
As  his  niece  was  named  for  Myrtle, 
Avho  had  always  loved  music,  he  had  given 
her  an  organ,  but  that  was  years  ago, 
and  he  had  almost  forgotten  her  exist¬ 
ence. 
Here  then  was  a  box  from  the  old 
home.  His  conscience  gave  a  twinge. 
IIoav  lie  had  neglected  them  ! 
*  *  * 
The  box  Avas  empty.  The  contents  had 
been  carefully  placed  on  the  broad  ma¬ 
hogany  table.  Uncle  Jehu  sat-  before  the 
fire,  motionless.  In  one  hand  Avas  the 
old  picture,  Iu  the  other  he  held  the 
photograph.  The  wavering  handwriting 
of  his  mother,  and  the  sight  of  her 
wrinkled  face  and  Avhite  hair  in  the  pho¬ 
tograph — such  a  contrast  to  that  in  the 
old  picture — these  touched  him. 
Then  the  sight  of  Myrtle,  with  her 
fresh  young  face,  her  head  bound  around 
Avith  heavy  braids,  just  as  his  sister  had 
worn  hers — the  coral  beads,  even,  Avith¬ 
out  which  he  never  saw  his  sister — all 
these  things  had  seized  him  and  trans¬ 
ported  him  back  over  the  thirty  years  that 
had  passed  since  he  had  seen  his  home. 
Seizing  the  receiver  at  his  elbow  lie  called 
up  the  telegraph  office  and  dictated  the 
following  message: 
“Will  be  home  Ncav  Years.  Greetings. 
Box  received.  Uncle  John.” 
Then  lie  again  took  up  the  pictures  and 
studied  them. 
Grandma  and — Myrtle.  Ilis  beloved 
Myrtle — restored  to  him  from  the  dead ! 
He  no  longer  marvelled  at  that  wonder¬ 
ful  box. 
“Such  girls  can  accomplish  anything  if 
they  get  a  chance !”  he  said.  Suddenly 
he  straightened  up  aud  pounded  the  arm 
of  his  chair  with  his  fist. 
“And,  by  George !  I’ll  see  that  she  gets 
a  clinnoeJ." 
The  box  certa  nly  did  present  an  imposing  appearance.” 
