The Little City of Hope

F. Marion Crawford
The Little City of Hope

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little City Of Hope, by F. Marion Crawford This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Little City Of Hope A Christmas Story
Author: F. Marion Crawford
Release Date: December 30, 2004 [EBook #14526]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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The
Little City of Hope
A CHRISTMAS STORY
BY
F. MARION CRAWFORD

MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1907

_Copyright in the United States America, 1907_

CONTENTS
PAGE
1. HOW JOHN HENRY OVERHOLT SAT ON PANDORA'S BOX 1 2. HOW A MAN AND A BOY FOUNDED THE LITTLE CITY OF HOPE 19 3. HOW THEY MADE BRICKS WITHOUT STRAW 35 4. HOW THERE WAS A FAMINE IN THE CITY 49 5. HOW THE CITY WAS BESIEGED AND THE LID OF PANDORA'S BOX CAME OFF 63 6. HOW A SMALL BOY DID A BIG THING AND NAILED DOWN THE LID OF THE BOX 74 7. HOW A LITTLE WOMAN DID A GREAT DEED TO SAVE THE CITY 87 8. HOW THE WHEELS WENT ROUND AT LAST 105 9. HOW THE KING OF HEARTS MADE A FEAST IN THE CITY OF HOPE 116

I
HOW JOHN HENRY OVERHOLT SAT ON PANDORA'S BOX
"Hope is very cheap. There's always plenty of it about."
"Fortunately for poor men. Good morning."
With this mild retort and civil salutation John Henry Overholt rose and went towards the door, quite forgetting to shake hands with Mr. Burnside, though the latter made a motion to do so. Mr. Burnside always gave his hand in a friendly way, even when he had flatly refused to do what people had asked of him. It was cheap; so he gave it.
But he was not pleased when they did not take it, for whatever he chose to give seemed of some value to him as soon as it was offered; even his hand. Therefore, when his visitor forgot to take it, out of pure absence of mind, he was offended, and spoke to him sharply before he had time to leave the private office.
"You need not go away like that, Mr. Overholt, without shaking hands."
The visitor stopped and turned back at once. He was thin and rather shabbily dressed. I know many poor men who are fat, and some who dress very well; but this was not that kind of poor man.
"Excuse me," he said mildly. "I didn't mean to be rude. I quite forgot."
He came back, and Mr. Burnside shook hands with becoming coldness, as having just given a lesson in manners. He was not a bad man, nor a miser, nor a Scrooge, but he was a great stickler for manners, especially with people who had nothing to give him. Besides, he had already lent Overholt money; or, to put it nicely, he had invested a little in his invention, and he did not see any reason why he should invest any more until it succeeded. Overholt called it selling shares, but Mr. Burnside called it borrowing money. Overholt was sure that if he could raise more funds, not much more, he could make a success of the "Air-Motor"; Mr. Burnside was equally sure that nothing would ever come of it. They had been explaining their respective points of view to each other, and in sheer absence of mind Overholt had forgotten to shake hands.
Mr. Burnside had no head for mechanics, but Overholt had already made an invention which was considered very successful, though he had got little or nothing for it. The mechanic who had helped him in its construction had stolen his principal idea before the device was patented, and had taken out a patent for a cheap little article which every one at once used, and which made a fortune for him. Overholt's instrument took its place in every laboratory in the world; but the mechanic's labour-saving utensil took its place in every house. It was on the strength of the valuable tool of science that Mr. Burnside had invested two thousand dollars in the Air-Motor without really having the smallest idea whether it was to be a machine that would move the air, or was to be moved by it. A number of business men had done the same thing.
Then, at a political dinner in a club, three of the investors had dined at the same small table, and in an interval between the dull speeches, one of the three told the others that he had looked into the invention and that there was nothing in Overholt's motor after all. Overholt was crazy.
"It's like this,"
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