The Rhos Herald

l B.IG.8 Beservbd]. I Little Chris BY j • KATE tAUD JOHNSON. mW&x "Wa are very lucky with a lamp before the -door, lUtd Leerie slops to light it, as he lights ao inaitv more, And, 0, before you hurry by with ladder and j with light, 0, I.,erie, see a little child, and nod to him | to-night!" _R_ L g_ | Cleopatra's Needle pointed up to a clear, 1 felae skjr. The warm June sun was stream- | iiiff radiantly down on it, as if it were try- rag to remind it of the hot suns of Egypt. The river danced and glittered in the strong afternoon light, as it flowed on through the The river danced and glittered in the strong fternoon light, as it flowed on through the fmsy scenes of the great city, to the wide sea, Isewnd. embankment was one of Chris Pember- tea's faTonrite spots. He was always called Chris, often "Little Chris," for his full name I was altogether too long for such a little boy; Srae H<S Y,\I» nearly twelve years old in age, feat act inor,' than seven or eight in size, and ( {jus back was not straight. 5>m.i(>-s his father would not have named the litth one Christopher, had he known the W'(* *? would always be delicate, and never grow big enough to carry such a weighty 8«Ulfi, 0a fljis particular afternoon, little Chris wl curled up on a seat facing the crouching SioES and the mormg river. In his dark vel- ret 2;Ritand large white collar; with his jfoiet, serious liitlt face propped on his hand, and Ms deep; grey eyes taking in everything in a dreamy way, he looked an interesting eiJiLd. Still, there was something sad and {jMt&etic about the boy, so small for his years, "ISwrie" Chris said, to a thoughtful, aged woman, who sat by his side on fibe seat, "Tell me all you know about Cleo- Needle." don't know anything about it, Master "drrhf, why should I? Yon must ask your papa, or Master Tom, when you get home," mud nurse went on thinking of more prosaic than old ohelisks. ) "It does not matter, thank you, I do know f ølfA: abottc it, my papa has told me. I love it, &ait is why I want to come here some- titi.t-s, just to look at it, you know. Then I can fbinkof Egypt, where there are big, big deserts, camels, pyramids, and the Sphinx." T'jte Needle spoke to little "Chris of waving palm trees, trackless deserts, and bright colonr» on sky and land. He was in another tvorMT—the children's country—where the ckiklren are all strtnig and glad. Hew anyone could love Cleopatra's Needle paaml nurse's power, of comprehension, but she was never surprised at little Chris's Me,"is. ha was always saying queer things. The boy went On talking in a clear, sweet rmce, ..1 love it because I can fancy all sorts stories about it. It stood, on and on, for btt;tdrz,flx of years away in Egypt, and then men brought it away from its blue skies and w'idv de.wrt«, when it was old and grey, to Xondon." The boy turned eagerly to the •Rent woman by his side, and the light of the river watillshining in his eyes as he went on, it did not trouble him that she looked solid, "I think, mavbc, the river talks to it as it rolls by, when all i. quiet, and it is night.. W1k»* shiuild you think they would say to eaeh other, nurse?" "• • **I don't know," nurse said truthfully, as eke attook her head; imagination was not one of her strong points. The twjy's eyea grew dreamy, a far away look came into them, that nurse called un- cannr. "I think the river says £ I am going on aaid on to the great ocean, where the waters sem to touch the sky, I have done my work here, and out there, there will be no banks to.hold me, I shall be free and so fcappy/ "And nay Cleopatra s Needle points to the efcy, it has always pointed up. and I think ft oays to the river, There is another sea, a "a of glass, where the angels are, and they are always making sweet music on their .arpîf: The Needle has stood so long, it must know a lot." "It is only stone." That was all nurse conld think of to say, it did not matter, Chris spoke more to himself than to her. Then there was silence in Chris's corner of the seat, nntil, when the boy's mood changed, fee aaid brightly, When I am a strong man, I ttm going to hunt lions and tigers in Africa, am going to hunt lions and tigers in Africa, 811d follow the trail of the Indian over the trallies, and see the elephants in the jungles. shall he a traveller, and see wonderful things," This was all very unusual, Chris was gener- »I!y quiet- Nurse looked grim, she knew Utile Chris would not live to grow up, and •eiwdiug to her strict ideas, he ought to be prepared for death, instead of planning for a future that would never come. She took life seriously, fancies and dreams otood for so much wasted time.' What good eouldthey do, if they never came to any- thing! Finding nurse rather unympathetic, fHsdl not at all interested in jungles or foreign trawl, Chris was silent, but he was dreaming golden dreams of a wonderful future, all filled with adventure, exciting scenes and mystery, a perfect Eldorado of bright fancy, that he would find some day beyond the sea, he was low in the exciting fancies of dreamland. Again he was not the feeble, small boy, but 8D active, strong, tall boy, like other boys, with his face tanned by Indian suns, and ins Stair blown about by salt sea-breezes. "Master Chris, we must go home, it is quite time." It was nurse's voice that broke the gotdea dream, and brought his thought* back abruptly to things as they really were. She did not know it. Grown-up people nevei loiow these titinxs,, although they do them every day. It was a noisy, merry group of children who gathered around the nursery table that after- noon for tea, in the old-fashioned house in the square. "Jackie, why didn't you speak to Booby and Weenie when we were at your cabool sports this afternoon, we all waved till our hands ached," Feggy asked as she cut the loaf into thick slices for nurse. "Fellows don't speak to their sisters and to I IMi of brothers out of doors, specially at øclwol sports?" Jackie said, loftily. His chivalry was still in the bud. uDo you know," Tom said, jumping up suddenly at the close of the meal, "I'm fif- teen years old to-morrow, actually fifteen at last." The fact seemed worth emphasising, and the other children were duly impressed with the importance of it. When one's years are few, even fifteen seems a great age to reach. Tom was to be envied "Goodness me, I wish I was as old," Jackie .id, as he hastily swallowed his last piece of bread and jam, "It's horrid to be only ten, the years creep along awfully slow," and Jackie stuck two sticky hands into liiirl tø to feel if his marbles were safe. "You ought to be thankful to be any age," j Peggy said, laughingly. "Well, you's not Peggy, yon's onh- lately," Tom suggested. There was a general rush to the cupboard door, on which many S notches were ruthlessly cut in the darkened wood, and the names of Tom, Peggy, Chris, Jackie, Bobby, and Weenie were cut' in large I letters. There was plenty of fun and shouts of laughter, as one after another discovered that they had grown a bit taller. Little Chris sat curled up on the deep win- dow seat, and looked on wistfully. They were all so glad over growing taller. He was glad they did' not call to him to stand up to !he mark, where his name was cut. But when the nursery was empty, he got down and went up to the worn cupboard door with a beating heart. All the names had gone up. How fast the healthy, romping boys and girls were growing! Little Chris stood back to the door. in the orthodox way of measuring himself,, after the fashion of children, and put his thin little hand up to feel the mark. It was the same, he had not grown an inch. The mark had been there a long, long time, and the small head covered with brown curls never reached higher than the old mark cut some time back I now. A chill came into his heart, and a lump into his throat. He sat down on a hassock, I and everything in the room swam round in a mist, because his eyes were full of blinding tears. Somehow hunting wild animals in the forests of Africa, sailing on the high seas like I the great Christopher of old, or, iideed, do- ing any of the wonderful things he was al- ways dreaming of doing, seemed a long way off, and quite impossible now. It was as if he had lost earth, after having a glimpse of it through the enchanted gates that lead to it —for they surely would be closed against one so small. Little Chris put up his small hands as if to push open the gates, but he could not, When the little ones came back to play, little Chris sat in the window-seat and looked on. The sun was still high and the lamp- I lighter would not be round for a long time. "Chris, tell us a story, do please," Weenie said, suddenly, and the rest left their toys and gathered around the window-seat. Chris told of "Toomai of the Elephants." Toomai j who rode bravely on Kala Nag's back, and saw the wild elephants dance in their secret I dancing-place, of how he came back at day- break, with his face grey and pinched, and his hair full of leaves and drenched with dew, of how he tried to salute the great Peterson Sahib, and cried faintly, "The dance—the elephant dance. I have seen it, and I die." "But he did not die," Bobby said stoutly, for he knew the story well. Chris had often told it. For he loved Kipling's stories. "No," Chris said, as he went on, "he did not die, although when Kala Nag sat down, Toomai slipped off his neck in a dead faint, he did not die, he became a great hero, for lie had seen what no one else had ever seen—and Maehuii Appa, the great hunter, lifted him up and showed him to all the elephants, and said in a loud voice, 'Here is the little onf that has seen your dances in your hiddt.n places. Give him honour, my lords, make your salute to Tpomai of the elephants "Chris, you do tell stories most beauti fully, you are ever so much too good.' Weenie said, with shining eves, as Chris finished the story of Toomai. "Hat you did not say what Toomai's father said, you 1 know." Weenie knew the story too well to I have one bit left out. "He said, 'The govern- inent may pay for elephants, but they belong to us Mahouts,' little Cliris added' with a bright smile. "Is that the end, Chris?" Bobby asked slowly. He thought that the proper thing to say at the end of any story. "Yes." Chris was happy again; it was something to charm others with the stories he read and loved. "Miss Peggy, little Chrig reads too much, that's uiy opinion "his head is stuffed full of queer ideas," nurse said decidedly, as she ex- amined Jackie's stocking with a critical eye. "Poor little Chris, it makes him happy." was all Peggy said. Peggy was curled up in the old armchair, and had been listening to the story. Peggy was nearlyi fourteen, and she was tall, but, no one could'tell stories like little Chris, even Jackie knew that. "Two children did we stray and talk Wise, idle, childish things." By-and-bye the tones of the piano sounded through the long drawing-room in the old house in the square; but above the music Chris's shrill voice rang out singing sweetly "Angels sing on, your faithful watches keep- ing, Sing us sweet fragments, of the songs above, Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping, And life's long shadows break in cloudless love." Tom was standing in the hall, deciding if he would go out or not, and instantly h. made up his mind that he would stay in with Chris. The little boy looked lonely in the big room, singing to himself, Tom thought, as he stood in the doorway, listening to the ilong; he caught a glimpse, too, of the white face that was turned to the window. As Chris sang the last words, Tom walked up to the piano and lifted the child on to his knee, as he sat down in an easy chair. "Tell me, Chris, why are you alone, and why do you sing about angels?" Chris put his head wearily on Tom's shoul- der. Tom was so strong and true, it was so easy to talk to him, he always understood, and he did not laugh when Chris said queer things. Tom felt the joy of being big and strong, and he was very kind to littla Chris, because of it. "It is comforting to sing of angels some- times. This afternoon I planned and planned about what I would do when I am a man. It was so sunny and bright on the Embank- ntent, I felt like other boya." "Did nurse take youT" "Yes, and the river seemed so happy as it went on and on to the sea. And we sat by Cleopatra's Needle. Sometimes things we want seem so near, don't they, Tom?" Chris said, as he sat up straight and looked into Tom's face eagerly. "Almost as if you could touch them. then something happens, and they are so far away, and it is all dull again." Then Tom and Chris talked of other things as they sat by the window, looking out into the old-fashioned square. Except for a police- man going his rounds, and a flower-girl sell- ing wallflowers and daffodils from a big bas- ket, the square was quiet and deserted. The late summer suit was setting in golden glory, somewhere beyond the houses, and the tall trees had caught, some of the warm light in, their topmost branches. "Tom. it will all come back 10 you, and I am so glad that it will." "What will come back, Chris?" Tom asked in a puzzled way. "Why, your kindness to me, of course," Chris said with a deep sigh, as he leaned back. "You take me out, and walk with me—all boys are not like you are. Dick Brown said, the other day, Well, I'll I go on, I can't stop to walk. with kids. Dick is not nice, he may be big, but he is not kind- | And ,it was raining, I could not hold the tun brella up in the wind, but Dick went on. if I had been strong he would have walked with j me. And you, you ate always kind and good. Tom." There was a quiver in the boy's voice. Tom put his arm tightly around the child, just because he was a boy he did not say any- thing. But he made up his mind to give up .more time to little Chris. "I love to picture it all coming back to you, and it will come back in hundreds of ways, I am sure ii; will, Tom," and Chris's eyes grew brighter and larger. I' Weenie had come into the room, and sat curled up on a chair, her chubby face was I resting on her hands as she looked out of the long window at the trees in the garden square. Weenie did not understand the boy's talk, so she was quiet and thought her own thoughts. ("What are you thinking of, Weenie!" Tom asked. "I'se just thinking "i)out Heaven, that's all See, some of the gold haat fallen off the sun and got caught up ore the trees. God has got a lot of gold, so he tlwows it down for lOt; to 0. Wo see," W oonie said, turning her laughing face I to the boys. Then-Bobby came into the room, and stood with his hands in his pockets, thinking deeply. At eight years old, Boooy only thought about Heaven at "erv rare intervals just now he was thinking of a desert island, with coral reefs and rolling surf, and tall cocoanut palms waving against blue skies. When nurse worried him he always thought of his desert island, where nurses and nur- series are unknown—then he was happy. "Weenie and me's going to be travellers, and get shipwrecked on a desert island and kill lions we must be travellers, we couldn't be anything else, you know," Bobby said stoutly. He had come to tell Weenie that they had to go to bed, and naturally it made him long for his desert island. "Peggy emit come with us, 'cause he don't want to be- shipwrecked. I'm sur- prised." Weenie observed scornfully. "Jackie says girls are no good when they want to get a scholarship, they are always rcaduig." Bobby explained. Bobby and me's going to find Toomai of the Elephants/ and he will teach us how to all, wild elephants," "Weenie said in a shrill voice. "Who tells you Kipling's tales?" Tom asked with surprise. "Whv, Chris, of course, don't you know that?" Weenie exclaimed in mild amaze- ment. Weenie and Bobby sat and talked wise, idle, childish things, and Tom did not guess how shut out the small, white-faced boy felt to hear the strong. healthy children plan and talk. It was not so much that he wanted to be shipwrecked particularly, like little Bobby and Weenie, but he did want a share in the big outside world. How should Tom For little Chris had not told him that another notch was not needed to mark his height on the old nursery door, and only Chris remembered how long the old mark had been in the same place. It was the thought, of that low mark that chilled his heart, < "All round the honse is the jet black night, It stares through the window paue, It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, And moves with the moving flame." When the lamplighter came his rounds to light his lamps just before the bla-k j shadows had had time to creep round ttfce dark shrubs and the rough trunks of the old lab-urnams and limes that grew in the garden of the square'Cliris wetat to bed, and the friendly tight of the street lamp lighted his room when the candles were put out and the shadows were everywhere. When he slept it was to the sons* oi t he trees in the old garden, gauging their niglit- songs. And little" Chris dreamed of rivers flowirig on brightly to the wide seas, and of Cleopatra' Needle' pointing up to the world where there are no shadows. He was a tall boy in 'his dreams, with no trouble in his heart. When Chris awoke, it wa% early morning, the iluuwaiÍ shining. He sat up and won- dered what- had made him unhappy the even- in before. Then lie thought, with a deep- drawn sigh, of the low notch on the nursery door. It was- thai.. In the Bexl room Jackie, Bobby, and Weenie had met to play Indian Wars in their nightdresses. I shall take Mary Jnno to our desert island, and let her ride on the elephants in the fores I," Weenie was saying, in a high- pitched; voice, as she sat on a pile of pillows on the floor, nursing her favourite doll. No. vou the doll is dowdy, and will disgrace us," Jackie said, bluntly. "Then Mary Jane and me will have an island All to ourselves." "Take the wax one in the yellow dress, and leave Mary Jane in England," Bobby sug- gested in a conciliating voice. "No. ft would break her heart to be left behind." Weenie said, slowly, gathering up the shvbbv doll in her arms, "I shall go and tell Chris," and her cheeks were like pop- pies. And once more Chris forgot to be sad, as he up in b-d and told Weenie the story of "Blue" Board" to comfort her as she sat curled up at the foot of his bed to listen. Little Chris was an hero, but he never guessed it. it seemed so imheroic to be weak, and to bear dumbly and patiently one's lot day after day. A.u!'imi! came with falling leaves, and chilly rains, and iiHle Chris began to fail, he nii.v<i d the bright, sunny days sadly. i lie wis so tired when he climbed upstairs to bed in fJ, dark evenings that he could not sleep, but would lie awake and watch the w«»i rd fsnfastic shadows made on the walls and ceiling by the trees in the square, as 1 hey were blown <tlx»ufc by the autumn winds, in the light of the street lsmps. So. as the lamp lighter wont his rounds those dull autumn dIH., he did not know that the lamp* he lighted outride or"* house, where he sew often the faces of little dlil- dren pressed against the window panes, cliocj-ed one child when he was lying awake at ni^iit, while the shadows were hav- ing it all thejr own way. and the nights were Ion?, and the wind was in the trees. An little Chris looked into the darkness, his wide-open eyes often asked the question that Stevenson's sick child asked: "Why is the room so gaunt and great? Why am I Tying awake so late" In the Hack night, the old dreams of ad- venture and of travel in unknown lands still came to Chris, except when he was very weary, and the pain was ])ad, then the dreams gave place to thoughts of angels, and the rustling of the trees became the rustling of their white wings, until the morning would come again, and the ligill, of the street lamps would grow dim and faded in "he grey light of the n-sw day. Then come a time when the ni-Thfs hatds grown very long, and the day-, h lHrlen and grown cold, wh.cn all is mo house in the old square walked about tvj {..ushed footsteps and with tears in the; The hOllse seemed so empty ■ ••,t. the in 1 "nd forgot: to play 1 t is they said, I1" Weenie, sat on tbf riu-nr win- it J srsJd beach other in whis- pers: "Little Chris is dead, Wtie Chris is dead," and for the first time in {heir short memories, feh3 bright prospect of being ship- wrccJced and cast up on N desert island, failed to cheer them, They ronM only look at his name cut on the i w t dtesr., and re- member he T.nnld ui measure himself again by that mark. "And who wsll us of 'Toomai* and 01 M< iwgii now Chris has gone tc heaveii ? Bobby asked .10"7, as he began to realist t b"i•• loss bit by bit. "No one," W.eenie said, shalriitgr her head gravely. "Little Chris is dead." Tom said with ,a, [lump in his throat, and an empty place in his heart, as he sat alone in the chilly gar- den. And Jackie buried his tear-stained faca in his pillow when he went to bed at night, and said to himself: "Little Chris is dead, little Chris Is dead." The next day, when Pegg-y took the n'n for a walk around the Jael-io, walked bet ween Bobby and Wee-ilia, although V, i euio was hugging Mary Jane UUde:T her arm. Jackie wanted to do something hard and good, because he was miserable. He jalso put, that week's pocket money into Dr. Bernardo's box. because he felt ho would never want to buy or cat toffy again. Jackie remembered with remorse -lie hdnot put 8 in for a long time, and suds good reso- lutions for the futura. tie also made Bobby and Weenie put theirs in too. and Weenie promised faithfully to put hers in every week, as long as she lived. Moreover, Bobby opened hi3 money box, and put in all his savings, which amounted to two- pence halfpenny. After that bit of self-sacri* fiee, the three children felt a little less miser- able. It is wonderfully comforting' to do hard, good til Isonieiiine, But little Chris was not dead. He had only gone to a fairer world. To the country the river had sung of, and Cleopatra a Needla had pointed up to in the sunny days « summer. To the country where there are no sick children. There lie could grow strong and tall. Tk» mark on the cupboard door in the nursery tells what his height was here. In the City Beautiful lie would grow beyond the low* mark. The Eldorado he thought of seeking in his dreams was never so fair as that City. In a few days Bobby and Weenie got deeply interested in: ilcir desert island again. The interest came back when Bobby said sud- denly one morning, as he rua:h>ê'd up to Weenie, who was standing looking disconso- lately out of the window: "Let's go in the garden, and play we aN travelIers, Weenie." "0. yea, Bobby, I'm longing to be lost is our forest again." "I did not think we should ever be happy again; Jackie said we never should," Bobby exclaimed breathlessly, as they scampered up on a mound of sand behind the trees, to rest after an exciting chase in the forest. It was their desert island, until they could find « real ic. "We've been awfully good and played at notiihig for a whole week, and been quite miserable," Weenie said, apologetically, as she seated herself and J"-1 ary Jane safely in the middle of the island, It was a many day, a sunny day after days of gloom and rain. and one can't be very miserable when the liun shines in winter. In time p{'ggy won her scbolarsMp, and Tom worked hard at college, for he wanted to do great things in the world. But there was always a sweet memory locked np in each heart in the old home in the square. It was the memory of little Chris.

MISTAKEN IDENTITY. There was a remarkable ttmiastiM to M alleged bigamy case at the Thames refice- court, in which Mr. Herbert Thorn, school- keeper at Alton-street Schools, Poplar, tif charged with marrying Louisa Caasidy at ih. Mary's Church, Whitechapel, 011 Mareh 8, 1908, hie wife then being alive. Mr. Thom was identified by a verger at 81, Mary's as the man wbe was tho brlMcr888 on March 8, 1908, but Mr. Thom denied tIa8 allegation. Detective-sergeant Bradley informed the magistrate that after further inquiries lie was satisfied that the dehudant ma-i isnooaat of the charge. It appeared, said the oIIcer" that Mr. 'Thorn's wife on searching the register at St. Mary's found that a mw named Herbert Thom had been warned oa March 8. 1908. She then complained to tko police, and the verger's identification followed. Mr. Chester Jones expressed his sympathy wit.h Mr. Thorn, for whom he felt very sorry. He had much pleasure in discharging him. and the defendant would leave, the court absolutely without a stain on his character.

e, WROTE HER OBITUARY. Strange letters were read in the course of an inquest held at Kilburw on the body of Mary Wilde, aged m, of Kilburn, who At one e wa's a act ress know a as Miss L. Rushtou. She was fowud dead in bed. death being due to gas poising. One note left by the wa.s in the form; of an obituary notice, and was headed: "How to describe me." It re awl: W^de.—On Mary, widow of the late Jidwin Wilde, of Cornwall, a?td the ^rand-daughter of the late Goolfrey hnelstou, Vicar of Reigate." In a letifi- addressed t-tv Kim- Murrin (her landlady) the deceased requested her to take seven birds ib.>1rmging to her and "her darling bunny." a rabbit, to a doctor to haw them killed painlessly. Then to bury the bodies of the bird*- with iicr. Deceased ti.o ji.e-r requested that a doctor should sever ore or her arteriee, becauso some years ago, said, she had a very narrow escape of being buried alive. The jury returned a verdict of 'tguicidte whilst of unsound mind."

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