The Murphy Brothers were seldom
in funds, and could not afford to buy gifts. They just did the best
that they could.
One
year Joey had managed to scrape
together some change and buy a
beer-mug for his brother.
But since it was only a single mug and not a pair, the present proved
impractical, and Murphy left it in the box: until the following Christmas, having nothing else to give,
he rewrapped it, and gave it to Joey, placing it under the lone coleus that
served them as a tree.
In
this manner the relic passed from one brother to the other, and then from the
other brother back, down the years, on each Christmas day: as the brothers grew slowly older, and
the coleus grew dim, and went at last to its reward. And in time,
that practice lapsed, and the
object was put away on a high shelf, until such time as the mug might someday
somehow find its mate.
And
then one Christmas, it snowed and
it snowed.
It
was cold in their office-apartment, since the heat had been shut off. And so they went out to the city
streets to gather firewood, though fireplace they had none. And yet found no
twig nor stick of it.
And
so they went sorrowing home.
Yet
were astonished, as they opened the door, to be rocked back on their heels by a
summer breeze, which blew out from a roomful of snow.
And
there amidmost, stood a towering spruce. Beneath it, three presents, wrapped in red: and the fruit of this tree was
permitted to them.
They sat awhile together, and discussed these strange developments.
Where could all this have come from? Neither of them knew.
They wondered what might be in the packages. At length they decided they
would have to find out. Joey motioned for Murphy to begin.
And so, curiosity overcoming him, Murphy untied the ribbon, and carefully
unfolded the paper, and lifted the lid of the box. Then both brothers
leaned forward, and wondering, looked in.
It was the Gift of Poverty.
Then both brothers rejoiced, amazed, and embraced. For this was a
wondrous gift indeed: formerly, they had merely been poor.
With keen anticipation, Murphy unwrapped the second present.
It was the Gift of Chastity.
The brothers sighed, and crossed themselves. “Thanks be to
God,” they said. For the solace of connubial bliss had always been
denied them, owing to their detective vows; yet now, their very
abstention, might be a sacrament.
Then gazed together at the final package,
neither one daring to move.
But yet at last with terrible trembling fingers, almost
sobbing with expectancy: as
when the bridegroom, as yet untried, on the wedding night, fumbles at
the bodice of his spotless bride, -- managed somehow to unloose the
wrapping (even as the maiden, on that sweet night, bids farewell to her
maidenhead, and unloosens her chestnut hair): and there lay--
The Gift of Obedience.
This gift had quite eluded them,
back in reform-school days.
Since that time, the Murphy brothers had always been resigned to their
lot in life; but now they did embrace it, as the very will of God.
“We
should drink to this!” cried Murphy, indicating (and just noticing) a vat of
ale; and went to the high shelf, to bring the old package down.
And took out -- lo! -- twin goblets of crystal, and filled them
each to the brim.
“This is the best Christmas ever,” Joey said.
[Notice: A hymn
appropriate to this offering, may be witnessed here:
~
For further Murphy mystical mystery
-- a story that will haunt your dreams:
Also available for your Nook
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