The Edison phonograph monthly (Jan-Dec 1916)

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EDISON PHONOGRAPH MONTHLY, DECEMBER, 1916 y' know Robbie. 'Nd arter I hed played "Come Back to Erin" Dan Murphy sed he thought he cud afford to give ten dollars more. The rest uv us in the store wuz mostly Yankees 'nd Yankee Doodle ain't jest the kind uv a song t' inspire a man t' emotion 'nd charity. So I put on this "Silent Night, Holy Night" number that is so beautiful thet it jest belongs to th' whole world 'nd not to enny one country. We wuz all listenin' quiet and still when I thought I heerd someone outside th' door. But no one come in 'nd I thought thet I wuz mistaken arter all. But jest arter the second verse started the door opened 'nd a man in a great fur coat and hat and big fur gloves come in out eh the storm. It wuz old John Grubbins. I knowed 'im the minute he knocked the peak of his cap back and I seen his wrinkled iron face, his rlashin' eyes and his long, heavy, bushy eyebrows. Who wuz Grubbins? Grubbins the Tyrant Y'd know ef I told yuh his right name. He wuz pres'dent of the B. & P. Railroad. Y'd know thet tu if thet wuz its right name. But there's reasons fer not tellin' the real name o' Grubbins er the real name o' the railroad. It is ernuf t' say thet he wuz one uv th' most merciless financ'ers thet ever lived — 'nd one uv the most hated. He wuz eh tyrant 'nd oppressor, 'nd 'e seemed to hev pride in it. His sudden comin' in kind'a startled us 'cause old John Grubbins wuz ernuf to startle ennybody. He wuz the kind thet wuz born to make peepul step around. I reckon thet's why he went from waterboy to the president's office on th' B. & P. He lived in Littleburg when 'e wuz a boy 'nd uster come back once eh year, 'nd thet wuz on Christmas. 'Nd he never stayed more'n a few hours 'nd I used tu wonder whut he come back fer anyway 'nd why he kept a house in Littleburg when 'e wuz here so little. He wuz ez old ez old Kimball, but Lordy! you wouldn't eh thought et t' look et 'im ez he stood there frownin' and glarin' around the store. 'Nd all th' time the Amberola wuz singing thet old song, "Silent Night, Holy Night." Then all uv eh sudden Grubbins points et it. "Shet thet thing off!" he snarls. "Whut yu got it playin' fer anyhow? Can't a man go nowhere nowdays without bein' pestered by music. Hev yu alius got'a be hearin' music, no matter where yu be?" "Andy" Restrains Himself "It's Christmas eve 'nd thet's Christmas music, Mr. Grubbins," I reminded 'im. I felt like tellin' 'im thet if he didn't like et he cud get out but, bein' ez it wuz a time when all should be charitable, I didn't. 'Nd arterwards I wuz glad fer it. "I know it's Christmas eve 'nd thet thet's Christmas music," he sez. "But I don't like et. It's silly, 'nd sentimental, 'nd foolish. It's all right fer women but men shouldn't like sich things." "Is there anything yu want tu get, Mr. Grubbins?" I asked 'im. "No," he sez. "I jest heerd the — I jest come in, I mean, tu look 'round 'nd see who wuz here. Ef I ain't welcome 'nd ef yu want me tu get out, I'll go, though," he sez, 'nd 'is eyes shined just ez though there wuz tears in 'em. "No! no!" sez I. "Draw a chair up tu the fire 'nd sit down. Ef there's somethin' about th' music you don't like we won't play et." "O, I don't mind et," he sez. "I wuz jest thinkin' uv somethin' when I went past 'nd heerd thet — when I come in, I mean — 'nd the music sort'a bothered me. Thet wuz a pretty song yu wuz playin.' I wonder would yu play et ag'in." Ag'in the strains of that wonderful old Christmas hymn went softly through the room. 'Nd old Grubbins kind'a pulled the peak uv 'is cap way down over 'is eyes 'nd set there with his head slouched way down in 'is big fur collar. He set thet way fer a spell arter the song wuz ended but fine'ly straightened up and glared fiercely 'round ag'in. Then he saw the pile o' presents thet wuz layin' on the counter, all done up in tissher paper with sprigs o' holly showin' here 'nd there. "Whut's all thet stuff over there," he sez, p'intin' to 'em. "O, we jest sort'a got together 'nd got a few gifts fer them as is poor hereabouts," I explained. "We've been doin' 'em up t'night to take around arter the childern is sleepin'." "Who's poor around here?" he asks gruffly. Grubbins Loosens Up 'Nd I tells 'im 'bout the little childern who wouldn't have a Christmas ef it warn't fer us 'nd 'bout unfortunate older peepul who wuz findin' life a hard struggle 'nd t' who a little Christmas cheer would give new hearts 'nd new spirits. 'Nd all the while he just kind'a smiled ez though he wuz glad tu hear about their sufferin's 'nd troubles. I tell yu, thet look he hed on his face made me mad clear through. But I guess 'is face warn't reflectin' whut wuz in 'is heart 'cause when I got through talkin' he stood up 'nd seemed to be thinkin' fer a minute. Then he sez: "How much more money do yu need fer tu give everybody eh merry Christmas?" I figured up. "Thirty-two dollars 'nd sixty-four cents '11 jest 'bout du it," sez I. "You're sure yu need all 'a that?" he asks. "If yu can't trust us yu don't need to give," says I, in some temper. (Continued on page g)