Читать книгу Standard Catholic Readers by Grades: Fifth Year - Группа авторов - Страница 7

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Once upon a time, so long ago that everybody has forgotten the date, there was a little boy whose name was Wolff. He lived with his aunt in a tall old house in a city whose name is so hard to pronounce that nobody can speak it. He was seven years old, and he could not remember that he had ever seen his father or his mother.

The old aunt who had the care of little Wolff was very selfish and cross. She gave him dry bread to eat, of which there was never enough; and not more than once in the year did she speak kindly to him.

But the poor boy loved this woman, because he had no one else to love; and there was never a day so dark that he did not think of the sunlight.

Everybody knew that Wolff’s aunt owned a house and had a stocking full of gold under her bed, and so she did not dare to send the little boy to the school for the poor as she would have liked to do. But a schoolmaster on the next street agreed to teach him for almost nothing; and whenever there was work he could do, he was kept at home.

The schoolmaster had an unkind feeling for Wolff because he brought him so little money and was dressed so poorly. And so the boy was punished very often, and had to bear the blame for all the wrong that was done in the school.

The little fellow was often very sad; and more than once he hid himself where he could not be seen and cried as though his heart would break. But at last Christmas came.

The night before Christmas there was to be singing in the church, and the schoolmaster was to be there with all his boys; and everybody was to have a very happy time looking at the Christmas candles and listening to the sweet music.

The winter had set in very cold and rough, and there was much snow on the ground; and so the boys came to the schoolhouse with fur caps drawn down over their ears, and heavy coats, and warm gloves, and thick high-topped boots. But little Wolff had no warm clothes. He came shivering in the thin coat which he wore on Sundays in summer; and there was nothing on his feet but coarse stockings very full of holes, and a pair of heavy wooden shoes.

The other boys made many jokes about his sad looks and his worn-out clothes. But the poor child was so busy blowing his fingers and thumping his toes to keep them warm that he did not hear what was said. And when the hour came, the whole company of boys, with the schoolmaster at the front, started to the church.