Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
Libraries.)












THE PRACTICAL JOKE;

OR THE CHRISTMAS STORY OF UNCLE NED.

[Illustration]

          NEW YORK:
          PUBLISHED BY J. S. REDFIELD,
          CLINTON HALL.




THE PRACTICAL JOKE.


Welcome, merry Christmas and New-Year! prized by children above all
other days in the year. Ye are associated with pleasant recollections of
old Santa Claus and sugar-plums--with bright visions of a cheerful
fireside, merry games, pleasant stories, and happy, smiling faces. First
comes Christmas Eve, when each young face beams with eager curiosity and
delightful anticipation--all wondering and guessing what they shall find
in their stockings next morning; while the eldest sister, with looks of
mystery and of importance, shares her mother's councils, and helps to
distribute the precious stores. Soon they are in bed, anxious to sleep
off the long hours, dreaming of rocking-horses and doll-babies,
tea-sets, wooden soldiers, and all the other delights of the toy-shop.

I never heard of a lazy child on a Christmas morning. The idle and the
industrious are all up, "bright and early." The well-filled stockings
are eagerly inspected, good wishes and pretty or useful presents given
and received, and various plans proposed for the day's amusement. Night
comes too soon for the tireless lovers of fun, who go unwillingly to
bed, consoling themselves that one week more will bring New-Year.

[Illustration: Kind little Girls relieving the Poor.]

Dear children, long may such innocent delights crown the year; and, in
the midst of all, forget not the children of the famishing poor, who
have no Christmas pleasures to look forward to; whose parents toil for
their daily bread and scanty apparel all the year, and have no time
nor means to provide themselves or their children with the comforts and
luxuries you enjoy. Each one can spare a little to minister to the
enjoyment of those poor suffering children, many of whom, perhaps, have
no fathers to provide for them, some of them not even a home to shelter
them. Share with them your abundance, and the blessings of the poor
shall rest upon you. And now, my patient little readers, for the story.

One Christmas night we were all gathered around a cheerful fire in the
old-fashioned parlor. Father, mother, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts,
and cousins, were all there. The blazing pine knots sent a cheerful
light into every nook and corner of the big room; the ponderous presses,
and quaint old desk and bookcase, reflecting the warm glow from their
polished surfaces.

The straight, high-backed, mahogany chairs had been sadly knocked about
in a game of blind-man's-buff, and looked as much out of place as a prim
old maiden aunt in a game of romps. Nut-shells and apple-parings,
kiss-papers and mottoes, strewed the broad hearth, and gave pretty good
token of the evening's cheer. The clock had just struck ten, and we
youngsters were warned that it was bedtime, when there arose a loud call
for a story. A story from Uncle Ned! We might all sit up to hear a
story, if Uncle Ned would tell one.

He, good soul, never refused a kind request in his life, and we felt
quite safe for the next half hour. I think I see him now, with his trim
leg encased in a fine home-knit stocking--his bright shoe-buckles, and
neat drab small-clothes--his queer-looking continental hat, with his
gray locks appearing beneath it, and his hands resting upon the head of
his silver-mounted cane.

[Illustration: Portrait of Uncle Ned.]

The chairs were set in their places, stragglers called in, and all were
seated in silence to hear.

[Illustration]


UNCLE NED'S STORY.

"Many years ago, when I was a slip of a lad like Tom there"--"Why,
uncle," cried little Willy in amazement, "did you say you were no bigger
than Tom? Were you ever as little as Tom, uncle?"--"Hush, Willy," said
Tom, a well-grown boy of fourteen, "I'm sure you need not make such a
wonderment at that; I am not so very small, and I expect to be as big as
Uncle Ned when I'm a man. How naughty of you to interrupt the story!"

[Illustration: Ned and his Companions at the Pond.]

"Well, Willy," said Uncle Ned, "I don't suppose I look much now as if I
had once been a slender lad, with a soft fair brow, and rosy cheeks; but
I was as full of fun and frolic as the best of you. I will tell you how
I once came near losing my own life and that of a friend and playmate,
by my love of mischief. It was a Christmas night. We were gathered round
the fire just as we now are, cracking nuts, eating apples, and telling
stories, when I proposed to Jack Thornton, and his little brother, that
we should go for a skating frolic to 'the pond,' a beautiful sheet of
water about a quarter of a mile distant. Instantly we were in motion,
looking up our skates and mittens. Off we started, in high glee,
promising ourselves fine fun on the ice. The moon shone
brilliantly--every object could be seen with perfect distinctness. The
little pond, which was supplied with the purest spring water, looked
like a sheet of silver, sparkling in the moonlight. I well remember
looking down through the clear and beautifully transparent ice, and
seeing the pond-lilies, with their broad leaves of tender green,
mingled with rushes and long grass, while the little fish danced like
beams of silver-light in the clear water. The pond was of no great
extent, but toward the middle it was quite deep, and formed a fine broad
sheet of ice for skating.

[Illustration: Ned rescuing Jack from drowning.]

"I remembered having seen the day before an air-hole near a rock on the
opposite shore. I had tried the ice near it, and found it strong enough
to bear my weight; and concluding that by this time it was quite thick
enough to bear two or three, I determined to play a trick upon Jack, who
was exceedingly good natured, but a great brag. Nobody could outwit him,
he thought. 'Come, Jack,' said I, 'follow me, and I will take you where
you are afraid to go.'--'I afraid!' said he, 'catch me afraid--I can go
anywhere you can--go ahead!' Away we shot, like swallows, toward the
fatal air-hole. 'Follow me,' I cried; 'keep up with me if you can.'
Thus stimulated, Jack kept close in my rear. My object was to avoid the
air-hole myself, and just give one of Jack's legs a ducking, without
doing him any further injury. We wheeled in circles round and round,
until, making a quick sweep, and calling upon him to keep close, I
dexterously made a slight curve so as to avoid the hole, but down went
poor Jack, one leg and foot quite buried in the freezing element. It was
a favorite trick with the knowing ones, and was never taken amiss. But
in this case the joke was carried too far. Jack pulled and struggled to
draw out his foot, when suddenly the ice gave way, and down he sank into
the deep water. I knew he could not swim--neither could I. I was aware
it would not do to attempt to get him out by going near him on the ice,
as our efforts would only crack the ice and throw me in too. But, as
quick as thought, I ran on shore, threw off my skates, went to the edge
of the rock, where fortunately he was within my reach, and, after many
unsuccessful attempts, I succeeded in drawing him out. Poor Jack was
almost exhausted; but I got him home, and he was undressed and put to
bed. A severe fit of sickness followed from the cold he took that night.
Aunt Dorothy always insisted that his sickness might have been
prevented, if she had been permitted to give him a dose of her
hot-drops, which she always kept by her--a specific for all complaints.
But the physician who was called positively forbade it. Physicians do
not like to have persons who are ignorant of the nature of diseases, and
their proper remedies, tampering with the human frame. Although in some
instances they may relieve in mild attacks, they often do a great deal
of harm by giving favorite quack medicines, indiscriminately, for all
complaints. However, by good nursing, Jack soon got well; and we
received a good lesson, which I have never forgotten, in the almost
fatal termination of the 'PRACTICAL JOKE.'"

[Illustration: The Physician and Aunt Dorothy.]

[Illustration]