Harper's Young People, December 27, 1881 / An Illustrated Weekly

I BRING YOU GOOD TIDINGS OF GREAT JOY.

An angel voice on Judah's plain Announced to men a Saviour's birth: Each Christmas sends the sweet refrain Re-echoing wider o'er the earth. Whence come the joys of Christmas-tide? A Child from Heaven has given us them. Above all thoughts let this abide: The Christ is born in Bethlehem.
The sharp crack of a rifle startled the echoes around Judge Malcom's country home, and a big black crow dropped from the wood-pile. Out ran a little darky boy from the kitchen, followed by Aunt Dinah, his fat old grandmother.
Now, you Jo, what you gwine to do wid dat dar crow? You better drap him like a hot potater. He's a-gwine to de Ole Scratch, whar he belongs.
But Jo had run over to the wood-pile, picked up the poor old crow, and held it to his bosom. His woollen shirt was open, and down his black skin ran the red blood of the wounded bird, down his black cheeks ran the tears, and he rocked himself to and fro in an agony of grief.
He's done gone dead for suah, sobbed Jo. Oh, Mas'r Harry! what made yer kill poor old 'Thus'lem?
I'm sorry, Jo, said a handsome lad of twelve, putting down his gun. I didn't know it was your crow, and he made such a capital target up there on that jagged stick, I couldn't help it. Don't cry, Jo; I'll get you another much nicer pet than that. He's the most broken-down, dilapidated-looking customer I ever saw. He's blind in one eye, and no wonder Aunt Dinah named him Methuselah; he must be a thousand years old. Let the miserable thing die, Jo, and I'll give you one of my bull-pups.
An' I'll dib oo a pet tennary, Do, lisped little Laura.
An' I'll gib you a good lickin' ef you don't shet dat dar bawlin', said Aunt Dinah. Why, yer couldn't make more ob a rumpus over a pore Christian.