s soon as the old fellow had gotten settled in his room at the hotel he
paid a visit to his son's grave, piloted to the cemetery by a friendly
and garrulous old negro hackman, who talked much about Christmas and
"the holidays."

"Yes, suh, dat he had known Cap'n Ham'n. He used to drive him out long
as he could drive out. He had been at his funeral. He knew Mrs. Ham'n,
too. She sutney is a fine lady," he wound up in sincere eulogy.

The General gave a grunt.

He was nearer to his son than he had ever been since the day he last saw
him in all the pride and beauty of a gallant young soldier.

The grave, at least, was not neglected. It was marked by a modest cross,
on which was the Hampden coat-of-arms and the motto, "_Loyal_," and it
was banked in fresh evergreens, and some flowers had been placed on it
only that afternoon. It set the General to thinking.

When he returned to his hotel, he found the loneliness unbearable. His
visit to his son's grave had opened the old wound and awakened all
his memories. He knew now that he had ruined his life. The sooner the
doctor's forecast came true, the better. He had no care to live longer.
He would return to work and die in harness.

He sent his servant to the office and arranged for his car to be put on
the first train next morning.

Then, to escape from his thoughts, he strolled out in the street where
the shopping crowds streamed along, old and young, poor and well-to-do,
their arms full of bundles, their faces eager, and their eyes alight.

General Hampden seemed to himself to be walking among ghosts.

As he stalked on, bitter and lonely, he was suddenly run into by a
very little boy, in whose small arms was so big a bundle that he could
scarcely see over it. The shock of the collision knocked the little
fellow down, sitting flat on the pavement, still clutching his bundle.
But his face after the first shadow of surprise lit up again.

"I beg your pardon, sir--that was my fault," he said, with so quaint an
imitation of an old person that the General could not help smiling. With
a cheery laugh, he tried to rise to his feet, but the bundle was too
heavy, and he would not let it go.

The General bent over him and, with an apology, set him on his feet.

"I beg _your_ pardon, sir. That was _my_ fault. That is a pretty big
bundle you have."

"Yes, sir; and I tell you, it is pretty heavy, too," the manikin said,
proudly. "It 's a Christmas gift." He started on, and the G