I. CHRISTMAS EVE, 1852.
In a large provincial town in France the day was beginning to decline, and a
sharp northeast wind to blow. The streets were nearly deserted, for everyone was
anxious to get home to warmth and comfort. Many had been out to buy toys and
bonbons; for in France Christmas is regarded as especially the children's feast, and
every child is taught to expect a Christmas gift from the Infant Jesus.
In the silence of the darkening streets rose a clear, young voice: “Any
chimneys to sweep?” It was a strange sound for such a night. Who was likely to
have his chimneys swept on Christmas Eve? Little Johnny Chanterose sighed as
he called on. Presently he came to the church and over the porch he saw the
carved stone image of the Virgin Mother holding the Infant Jesus in her arms.
Johnny sank on his knees. “Sweet little Jesus,” he said, “please let me find
tonight, the eve of Thy feast, one chimney to sweep!” Then, rising up, he went on
his way, calling out as before, “Any chimneys to sweep?” Suddenly a window
opened, and there the boy found a chimney that needed sweeping. He soon
climbed up, and by the quantity of soot that descended it was easy to see he had
done his work well. But he never came back.
“Where can he be?” asked the family. Not in the chimney, for they peeped
up. They shouted, but there was no reply. They were very busy; it was no affair of
theirs, so they left Johnny to his fate.
Where was he? Safe on the roof, for this was why Johnny had prayed so hard
to get a chimney to sweep. He was an orphan, all alone in the world, and he did so
long to have, like other children, a Christmas gift from the Infant Jesus.
“Now,” he argued, “the way the Infant Jesus goes down to give the children
their presents at midnight is through the chimneys; there is no other way for Him.
And in the garret where I sleep there is no chimney, so how can He come to me? I
will wait for Him, then, on the roof, and surely He will see me, and listen to me.”
So he went about on the top of the house, and peeped down the chimney. At last
he heard some voices from a group evidently sitting near a hearth, on which the
fire was just expiring. He listened, and heard a soft, gentle voice say:
“Mark, you must be very obedient if you want the Infant Jesus to send you a
beautiful Christmas present tonight by His angels.”
A child's voice answered: “I want the Holy Infant to come Himself. I will
have Him come - I will!” And then the child stamped his little foot.
A third voice spoke gravely: “Mark, the Infant Jesus loves children who are
not self-willed. Take care that you do not find anything else in your stockings than
a birchrod.”
Johnny had heard enough. There was the place for him; evidently the Infant
Jesus was expected here. The socks were on the hearth ready for the present, so he
settled himself on the roof. But the wind grew more and more piercing, snow
began to fall, and Johnny shivered under his rags. “Alas!” he said, “I shall be dead
before midnight if I stay here. I'll creep into the chimney; the fire is out; I can hold
myself very well - just as I do when sweeping, and I shall be warm, and sheltered.
And if I do go to sleep, I shall wake up when the Infant Jesus passes by.” So the
little fellow planted himself well, and soon fell asleep; but after a while he lost his
balance, and tumbled down the chimney into the middle of the hearth.
Papa, Mamma, and the little boy all started to their feet with a cry.
“You young rascal!” exclaimed Papa, “where do you come from?”
“It is the fault of the cold night, sir, please. I could not help it. I'm Johnny,
the chimney sweep. Don't beat me.”
“But what were you doing on the roof at this time of night?” said Mamma,
gently.
“Please, madam, I was waiting for the Infant Jesus. I am an orphan, and so
miserable I wanted to ask Him to make my master kinder to me, and to make me
happy.”
“Oh, don't beat him, Papa!” piped little Mark.
“Don't be afraid, my poor boy,” said Papa. Then, turning to his own little
son, he went on: “Mark, you said that the Holy Infant should come down Himself
tonight. Look at Him. He has taken the form and the clothing of the children He
loves the best in the world - the miserable children.”
“It is true,” said Mamma, with tears in her eyes.
Mark set a chair for the Infant Jesus, and ran to bring Him some bonbons.
Poor, shivering Johnny was mute with astonishment. The father and mother spoke
together in a whisper. They were excellent people, rich and charitable. They had
lost four young children, and Mark, the only one left, was very delicate, and a
cause of perpetual anxiety.
“Let us keep this little one, who is alone on earth, that God may bless and
preserve our Mark?” said the mother.
“Yes, my wife, we will,” answered her husband. “What is your name, child?”
he continued.
“John Chanterose. I am nine years old.”
“You have neither father nor mother? Would you like to stay with us?” The child trembled all over; he could not speak.
“Will you be very good, and learn to read and write, and be Mark's
companion?”
Mark came in at this minute, loaded with bonbons. “Oh, what fun!” he cried
as he heard his father's last words.
The little orphan was nearly wild with joy. He fell on his knees, joined his
hands and said: “Dear, Infant Jesus, dear Infant Jesus, I thank Thee!”
So Johnny was called the little Christmas brother. He was soon washed and
dressed in Mark's clothes - they were the same size - and now two pairs of socks
were laid on the hearth to await the Christmas gifts. Next morning they were
found well filled, and among Mark's gifts was a tiny cross of honor, for he had
always said he would be a general; and among the bonbons and toys for Johnny
shone a pretty silver crucifix.
Never had the poor boy's eyes fallen on such gifts before. “Oh, my dear
Infant Jesus of Christmas!” cried he, sobbing with joy. “Now I have a father,
mother, and brother. Indeed I will be good, and learn hard, and show you how I
love you all.”
