Free Classic Christmas Stories by Frank Galgay Page A

inspiration to, join
     in the grand Christian chorus of Faith, Hope and Charity that re-echoes round
     the world tonight—
“Glory be to God on High
    And Peace on Earth to men of good will.”

“Dear Mr. Santa”: A True Story
    by P. J. Kinsella
    T
HE FOLLOWING IS A true story. I had always threatened
     to tell it, for because of its beauty, its humanity and its worth of the real
     Santa who played so splendidly the part, I do not think the incident can be
     surpassed for its genuine charity and love.
    A few months ago Mr. James Gushue of the General Post Office, passed to the
     Great Beyond, and all who knew the feeling heart of this good man, and how kind
     and sympathetic it was for every appeal, from some other kindred soul, will
     readily see how true it must be. Let me add the line in all sincerity and
     truth— “James Gushue was a beloved.” This is the story—a beautiful one, and I
     tell it as he told it to me.

    It was three years ago, and a week before Christmas. It was a blustery, cold,
     and biting day, and as I ploughed my way through the heavy snow, buoyed up by
     the thought that I would soon be comfortably seated in my cosy chair, and
     rejuvenated by that prospect, a little girl poorly clad, and ill protected
     against so trying a weather sprang towards me, and as I judged, from a near
     snow-bank.
    â€œPlease sir, ” she asked, “will you give me five cents, I want to buy—”Just then a severe drift of snow came between us, and when it
     had passed, and I was preparing to give the child a coin—I found she had gone,
     probably into one of the nearby houses where I judged she lived.
    But the spirit of Christmas was about, and I felt sad, because the little one
     would never know but that I had refused her request, and this too troubled
     me—What was it she had intended to buy? It was, perhaps you will think, a small
     thing to trouble about—but there, the spirit of Christmas was around, and it
     seemed to whisper to me, as it did to the Scrooge of Dickens Land, “Man, man,
     ’tis the thought of the Child’s day”— “Let us remember that!”

    I continued my way to the Post Office, and found much mail matter awaiting me
     there, there was quite a bunch of returned letters and a number of them had to
     be opened in order to get at the names of senders. Amidst that voluminous pile
     of correspondence was a letter that touched me to the heart. It was addressed
     simply “MR. SANTA CLAUS” ST. JOHN’S and read thus:
Dear Santa:

    I want a lot of things for Christmas, mamma says we have no money to send
     you, but I want a tea set, and a Dolly, and a Dolly’s cot, and I want some
     oranges and apples, and Mamma says if I write to you I will get them. I am a
     good little girl.

    Nellie
    Don’t forget some candy.
    The address of the child was written and instantly like an
     inspiration from God, came to me the resolution . . . to be Santa Claus.
    â€™Twas the spirit of Christmas about me, and I tell you I felt all the
     enthusiasm of a kid myself, as I prepared a parcel for “Nellie” on Christmas
     Eve. I secured all the dear old childish toys, some fruit and some candy, and in
     the centre of a box of chocolates I placed a note reading something like
     this:
“To ‘Nellie’ from Santa Claus.
    Who received her letter.”
    I never felt so happy in my life as that hour on Christmas Eve when the package
     was delivered to Nellie’s house on —— Street, and— (you say ’twas a beautiful
     thing)—well!—well!!

    If God is the beautiful, and benevolent, and loving of our heart’s deep
     emotion, if the heart and soul of a child shall bring a man nearer to “the
     Godhead, ” and if the cup of cold water given in His name shall win its reward,
     then to-day, this Christmas Eve, the soul of James Gushue is happy in the
     eternal love