After the presents had all been distributed we put the phonograph on a box and had a dandy concert.  We played “There were Shepherds,” “Ave Maria,” and “Sweet Christmas Bells.”  Only we older people cared for those, so then we had “Arrah Wanna,” “Silver Bells,” “Rainbow,” “Red Wing,” and such songs.  How delighted they were!  Our concert lasted two hours, and by that time the little fellows were so sleepy that the excitement no longer affected them and they were put to bed, but they hung up their stockings first, and even Molly hung hers up too.  We filled them with peanuts and candy, putting the lion’s share of “niggers” into Molly’s stocking.

Next morning the happiness broke out in new spots.  The children were all clean and warm, though I am afraid I can’t brag on the fit of all the clothes.  But the pride of the wearers did away with the necessity of a fit.  The mother was radiantly thankful for a warm petticoat; that it was made of a blanket too small for a bed didn’t bother her, and the stripes were around the bottom anyway.  Molly openly rejoiced in her new gown, and that it was made of ugly gray outing flannel she didn’t know nor care.  Baby Star Crosby looked perfectly sweet in her little new clothes, and her little gown had blue sleeves and they thought a white skirt only added to its beauty.  And so it was about everything.  We all got so much out of so little.  I will never again allow even the smallest thing to go to waste.  We were every one just as happy as we could be, almost as delighted as Molly was over her “niggers,” and there was very little given that had not been thrown away or was not just odds and ends.

There was never anything more true than that it is more blessed to give than to receive.  We certainly had a delicious dinner too, and we let Molly have all she wanted that we dared allow her to eat.  The roast venison was so good that we were tempted to let her taste it, but we thought better of that.  As soon as dinner was over we packed our belongings and betook ourselves homeward.

It was just dusk when we reached home.  Away off on a bare hill a wolf barked.  A big owl hooted lonesomely among the pines, and soon a pack of yelping coyotes went scampering across the frozen waste.

It was not the Christmas I had in mind when I sent the card, but it was a dandy one, just the same.

With best wishes for you for a happy, happy New Year,

  Sincerely your friend,
    ELINORE RUPERT STEWART.

XX

THE JOYS OF HOMESTEADING

     January 23, 1913.

DEAR MRS. CONEY,—­

I am afraid all my friends think I am very forgetful and that you think I am ungrateful as well, but I am going to plead not guilty.  Right after Christmas Mr. Stewart came down with la grippe and was so miserable that it kept me busy trying to relieve him.  Out here where we can get no physician we have to dope ourselves, so that I had to be housekeeper, nurse, doctor, and general overseer.  That explains my long silence.