Twilight Stories   By: Margaret Sidney (1844-1924)

By Various

Margaret Sydney, Susan Coolidge, Joaquin Miller, Mrs. Amy Therese Powelson, Etc.

We went to the show one night, And it certainly was a great sight, This tiger to see, Fierce as he could be, And roaring with all his might.

CHRISTMAS DAY.

The Christmas chimes are pealing high Beneath the solemn Christmas sky, And blowing winds their notes prolong Like echoes from an angel's song; Good will and peace, peace and good will Ring out the carols glad and gay, Telling the heavenly message still That Christ the Child was born to day.

In lowly hut and palace hall Peasant and king keep festival, And childhood wears a fairer guise, And tenderer shine all mother eyes; The aged man forgets his years, The mirthful heart is doubly gay, The sad are cheated of their tears, For Christ the Lord was born to day. SUSAN COOLIDGE.

They sat on the curbing In a crowded row Two little maids And one little beau, Watching to see The big Elephant go By in the street parade; But when it came past, Of maids there were none, For down a by street They cowardly run, While one little beau Made all manner of fun Of the Elephant he wasn't afraid.

THE ONLY WOMAN IN THE TOWN.

One hundred years' and one ago, in Boston, at ten of the clock one April night, a church steeple had been climbed and a lantern hung out.

At ten, the same night, in mid river of the Charles, oarsmen two, with passenger silent and grim, had seen the signal light out swung, and rowed with speed for the Charlestown shore.

At eleven, the moon was risen, and the grim passenger, Paul Revere, had ridden up the Neck, encountered a foe, who opposed his ride into the country, and, after a brief delay, rode on, leaving a British officer lying in a clay pit.

At mid night, a hundred ears had heard the flying horseman cry, "Up and arm. The Regulars are coming out!"

You know the story well. You have heard how the wild alarm ran from voice to voice and echoed beneath every roof, until the men of Lexington and Concord were stirred and aroused with patriotic fear for the safety of the public stores that had been committed to their keeping.

You know how, long ere the chill April day began to dawn, they had drawn, by horse power and by hand power, the cherished stores into safe hiding places in the depth of friendly forest coverts.

There is one thing about that day that you have NOT heard and I will tell you now. It is, how one little woman staid in the town of Concord, whence all the women save her had fled.

All the houses that were standing then, are very old fashioned now, but there was one dwelling place on Concord Common that was old fashioned even then! It was the abode of Martha Moulton and "Uncle John." Just who "Uncle John" was, is not now known, but he was probably Martha Moulton's uncle. The uncle, it appears by record, was eighty five years old; while the niece was ONLY three score and eleven.

Once and again that morning, a friendly hand had pulled the latch string at Martha Moulton's kitchen entrance and offered to convey herself and treasures away, but, to either proffer, she had said: "No, I must stay until Uncle John gets the cricks out of his back, if all the British soldiers in the land march into town."

At last, came Joe Devins, a lad of fifteen years Joe's two astonished eyes peered for a moment into Martha Moulton's kitchen, and then eyes and owner dashed into the room, to learn, what the sight he there saw, could mean.

"Whew! Mother Moulton, what are you doing?"