A GENEROUS BURGLAR.

Waimate Daily Advertiser, Volume VI, Issue 11, 28 January 1905, Page 4 (Supplement)

A GENEROUS BURGLAR.

After all the children had been put to bed on Christmas Eve, Mr and Mrs Steuben placed the tree in its standard and spent several hours decorating it and tying presents to the limbs. Then, about midnight, they, too, retired for the night. About 1 o’clock in the morning, noises were heard downstairs. The first one to waken the father and mother was succeeded by several other slight sounds, as though whoever was moving about was very careful not to be discovered. Mrs Steuben whispered: “It is George, putting presents on the tree for us.”

There was a sound of a drawer being opened, and this made the identity seem more certain.

“He is getting some string from the sideboard. I think I will play a joke on him,” whispered Mr 4 Steuben, stealthily rising. “I will go to the head of the stairs and drop one of my shoes over the banister and make him jump.”

So saying, he stole into the hall, shoe in hand, and just as he heard another shuffling sound below, he let his shoe fall with a crash on the hardwood floor in the reception room. The result was a great deal more effective than he expected. Immediately there was a r ush of hurrying feet in the diningroom, and footfalls were heard on the kitchen floor, followed by a double thump on the back steps, as someone leaped down into the yard. This brought Mrs Steuben to the hall, and as she viewed the surprised face' of her husband, she grapsed him nervously by the arm and spoke the one word: “Burglars.”

Mr Steuben nodded his head as he promptly hurried back into his room to the chiffonier for his revolver, while his wife ran to George’s room, and finding him in bed, shook him vigorously, as she exclaimed: “Burglars ! get up, quick.”

That was enough to bring him to a sitting position, and as his brain comprehended fully the situation, he slid out, asking: “Where?” “Come "on,” called his father, from the hall, “I am going down.” And with that, he turned on the reception room electric lights from the upper hall and descended the front stairs, keeping a careful watch on all sides as he went. A blast of cooler air met him, and as he turned on the lights in the parlour and looked through to the dining-room, he saw a large package on the diningroom table.

His son joined him, and together they went into the kitchen, to find the outside door wide open, and not a person in sight. They closed the door and locked it, and then made a tour of the house, finding all the other doors and windows locked and no strangers secreted anywhere. Mrs Steuben joined the search party, and together they returned to the diningroom. The drawer® of the side-board were open, and in them were bent and broken knives, forks and spoons, which the intruder had tried in order to discover whether they were solid silver. Evidently he had not had time to pack up any of them, for Mrs Steuben saw at a glance that none were missing .

Then they turned to the bundle on the table, at the end nearest the parlour door. Opening the package, tied in a luncheon cloth, they found heavy silver and gold epoons, large and small; a silver bread plate and the sterling silver tops from about a dozen individual salts and peppers. Nearly all the pieces were engraved with the initials “M. A. O.”

“What a generous burglar!” exclaimed Mrs Steuben. “Instead of taking our silver, he leaves us for Christmas the silverware of some other family.” “I wonder whose it is?” asked George.

Mr Steuben, who had looked out of the parlour window, replied: “I’ll bet I know. The Lindsay’s house is ah lighted up. They’ve probably had a caller, too. I am going to telephone over there, George, while you put on the rest of your*clothes, for I’ll bet the stuff belongs t) them.”

“The initials arc not right,” suggested George. “Well. Mrs Lindsay was an Osborne before she was married,” remarked his mother, “and these things are probably part of her wedding presents, engraved with her maiden initials.” “Sure,” said Mr Steuben; “I’ll tele-

phone, anyway.” He came away from the phone laughing. “George,” he called, “you can take the things over there all right. They have just notified the police, and they wish to be sure that everything is accounted for.” So the Lindsay family received a very welcome package in the middle of the night before Christmas, and on the morning of the glad holiday, Mrs Steuben was handed a fine bouquet of roses, with Mrs Lindsay’s card.

Force of Habit.—Dewey Eave: “1 never see Chris’mas cum round, Willie, blit I wishes I wuz rich.”

Weary William. “Dat’s strange.” Dewey Eave: “Oh, I dunno. I wishes de same t’ing every other day in the year, tod.”