ACROSS THE STREET. -
Across the street the bright lights flashed and gleamed,
' ' And "fortune's favored ones" were gathered there,
V The merry music of the dance outstreamed
r Upon the air.
Across the street it seemed so far away.
That joyous world, from my unhappy sphere,
Made up ot weary toil, day after day,
And year by year.
f- I turned me from my window, with a sigh.
"Thou mak'st life's differences, O God, so wide.
I could not conquer that ungrateful cry,
Tho' hard I tried.
Across the street, next night, across the street.
Death's grim insignia from the door was hang.
I heard the passers-by, low-voiced, repeat,
"So fair, so young."
Across the "street ah, surely 'twas not so.
That they were mourning who last night were gay
.". That yonder mansion was a house of woe,
, Where death held sway)
Across the street, beside a single light,
A cheerless company a sad watch kept,
And she, the homaged one of yesternight, , ,
. Forever slept. ,
-Bosto'n Journal. '; '.
egeegegeWeeM eMeeeeeeeHJe
f JOHN ALDEN'S INSURANCE f
OSIAH BEYNOLDS was a
; r (M staid, respectable man, whose
-J life had been uneventful and
! monotonous; he was what one might
call an average man. He had obtained,
when fourteen years of age, a position
A Vwvo- In a retail drv ZOOdS
store. From this store no . ambition
had ever temoted him: there he had re
mained, and In his methodical way had
J . ,7 Vir Mrnoi ann II 1 17 1 1 -
. 4 n- ha Vmri Vvar(M-n hpfld salesman
; at a saiary oi iuiwu uuwio a
Josiah, at the age of twenty-five,
i, i 11 Uo lnxrorl Vila wlf a In his
own way: . and then, as : he always
said, "It is so much cheaper to live!"
Poor Josiah discovered his mistake by
the time he was the father of eight
cnuaren: ami mien iu uis ucajjuuucm
moods longed for the time when he, a
, hapy bachelor, had lived. In an attic
and dined how and when he pleased.
T.. 4- Ta.I.1i n n V rosin cfVl 1 IT Vtrtnoaf
man, and aftertthese retrospective and
despondent musings redoubled his ex
ertions to solve the problem how to
pay Tent, clothe his f amilyv and settle
the thousand and one little bills con
: tinually intruding themselves all on
fifteen dollars a week. But, to his
V. t i. J .a lit.. nvm41-r tit n a wtwv-
CTCUll U0 XL BCL1U, XIAO . nao rt.r-
vided for well; the children were
warmly If cheaply clad; the wife al
ways looked neat, nor did they suffer
for food; true, . they had few amuse
ments or luxuries, and poor Josiah
coat, for he would rather go shab
by himself than be. ashamed of Ms
iWife and children.
In this manner Josiah lived until his
forty-fifth year; then he received a
great surprise. His employer had each
year' grown more-feeble, and left more
and -more the charge of the store to
Josiah. Many men under such cir
'. cumstances would have demanded
. more pay, but not so Josiah; It seemed
only natural to him that he should
give his best endeavors to his em
ployer, who, however, made no com
ment upon his assistant's faithful
. : work; but Josiah was content with
the thought of duty properly per
formed. ; .
; On the morning of the first of March,
Josiah' s birthday, he came to the store,
at hts usual hour, but his seedy coat
. bore upon its lapel a little bunch of
hothouse flowers, his natal gift, from
: his wife and children. He went to
; his work light-heartedly on this par
ticular morning. 'It was his nature to.
i be , happy, and , only an occasional
. gloomy spell over some unusual ex
'('Pense broke his generally unruffled
serenity. This morning, however, he
i was particularly happy. When he had
r seated himself for his breakfast of por
. -ridge and molasses be had found at
- Lis plate a bunch of flowers, which his
i wife, amidst the joyful wishes of her
children, had pinned upon ! his , coat.
: Strange as it may seem, this matter-of-,
fact man had a passionate fondness
for flowers rarely gratified; but to-day,
as he started to his work, the remem
f "brance of his-happy home and the odor
fof the flowers stimulated ..him' to' a
' sense of unusual joy. H
; When his employer , arrived' Josiah
' greeted him with a pleasant smile, but'
noticed regretfully how weak he
; ' seemed.
t j "AhT'-he thought, ."what a sorrow-!
i ful life" for poor Mr. Alden, all alone
' at this age! -1 would not change places
with him, I am sure. What is money
without happiness?" . ' r' r
"Josiah," said Mr. Alden, "I have
; something to say ty you." . , ,., .3
"Tes, sir," answered' Josiah, ' sur
; ' prised at ..the impressive tone of : bis
; , master's voice. ' " " '' ' !
, : "Josiah," said Mr. iAlden.1 "you have
been with me ever since you were a
boy; I have watched the, unfolding of
. your character, and I know you tobe
a truly honorable, and reliable man.. - I
have not been unmindfuiof your faith
ful services, nor am I indisposed to
; reward them. I am getting old; I am
now eighty-four years of age, and,
in - the ordinary course of events I
' cannot live, much longer. Since my
. dear son died I have ' been entirely
alone in the 'world. ' What I want to
u say is this: : I 'wIsIl: to give you full
' charge of the store; I will take you
Into partnership, and jteu can have
one-half of the 'profits. All I ask is
that you take me into your family, for
I am weary of living alone. When I
die I shall leave you all I possess, in
cluding an insurance on my life of
twenty thousand dollars. Does that
suit you?" .- - .--.. ...... -
Mr. Alden, who knew his clerk well,
was not, surprised that he did not
speak; It was, indeed, and he knew it,
a most alluring prospect. Josiah was
so stunned that he could not . speak
coherently. ' xnrougn nis mina rusnea
a picture of his past life; how he had
always pinched and calculated to make
- both ends meet; 'the continual whirl
about money, which had become so
much of a second nature that be
scarcely noticed it, but which, in bis
retrospective glance, under the bright
illumination of this magnificent offer,
weighed on his spirits like a pall.
What I . He an equal partner in the
firm! He an equal sharer In the profits!
He the heir of Mr. Alden! It seemed
incredible.
"Well, Josiah, what say you?"
He roused himself and said:
"I don't know what to say, the of
fer is so unexpected and undeserved.
I have never done more than my duty,
and why you should be so generous
I do not know; really I do not know
what to say or do."
"There Is nothing you need say,' Jo
siah, and but ( one thing to do allow
me to have my own way. My decision
Is not a thing of the moment; I have
thought of It long and often. The store
does not pay very much about four
thousand dollars a year still it has
enabled me to lay up a snug fortune,
and to place upon my life an insur
ance of twenty thousand dollars."
Josiah listened to the old man's talk
only with external application; he un
derstood what was said, but each word
conjured up a picture. At first his
mind did not wander beyond the year
ly income of two thousand dollars; this
sum, in contrast with his beggarly
fifteen dollars a week, seemed inex
haustible. He thought of the many
things he could do now. Maria, his
wife, should have a silk dress, and
should rest from the labor which had
been wearing her out Martha, his
oldest daughter, should have the wish
of her life granted, and should study
music. Alfred should go to college;
the other children should have their
dresses when they grew up and he
oh, he would get a new coat!
With such roseate pictures did the
two thousand dollars fill his thoughts;
but when he allowed his mind to con
template the time when he should pos
sess Mr. Alden's entire fortune, it af
fected him as a flash of lightning does
the eye.
"Well, Josiah," said Mr. Alden, "let
us go and have the partnership papers
drawn up; ' then, as it is your birth
day,' you can take a holiday, some
thing you have not had in many
years." . : '. .. .
"Just as you say, sir," said Josiah,
meekly.-
Soon the business was transacted,
Josiah signing all the papers in a
dazed manner, : unconscious of their
contents. . Then he hastened home, for
he was anxious to confide to some one
the joy' that filled his heart; and to
whom more properly than to her who
had shared his privations and sorrows?
When he reached his abode, a dingy
house In an obscure back street, he
found his wife working upan a pile of
shirts; this she had done for many
years to eke out their meager exist
ence. Josiah was not unused to the
sight, since he had witnessed It day
after day, but now he felt within bis
soul an impulse of indignation that his
wife should be doing such work; so.
while his wife gazed in astonishment
at her liege lord, who never before in
all their married life had returned so
early from the store, he stalked gran
diloquently to the pile of shirts, gath
ered them up and cast them out of the
door.
'"Josiah Reynolds I" exclaimed the
amazement-stricken wife, "are you
crazy?"
"No, Maria, I am not, but I do feel
rather strange here," said Josiah, tap
ping bis forehead, "but crazy or not;
you shall make no more shirts . for
Wringer & Starchem.". .
"But, my dear,!. what shall we do?
I made three dollars a - week but . of
them; we can't get along-without the
money," v vi :
"Mrs. Reynolds." answered . Josiah,
with an air of dignity, "the wife of the
junior member of the firm of Alden &
Reynolds does not need to make shirts
at three dollars a week." 1
Maria was ready to burst into tears.
Never before had her dear Josiah
called her Mrs. Reynolds; moreover, he
frightened her with his strange actions
and incoherent talk, and, with a wom
an's reasoning, she concluded he was
insane. - So the tears that had been
gathering burst forth like a torrent, ac
companied by a storm of sobs. -
"My dear Maria, what is the mat
ter?" exclaimed the now awakened
husband; "have I" said or done any
thing to offend you?"
"No," sobbed Maria, "only go-gone
and go-got crazy!"
. "Why, Maria, I am not crazy; what
do you mean by saying so?" .
"What do yon mean by talking
about the . firm of .'Alden & Reynolds'
when you are only a clerk getting fif
teen dollars a week?" - -. - .
- This was more than Josiah could
stand. .What! : He, a partner ,in the
firm, accused of being a clerk at fifteen
dollars a week? If was an insult! In
a voice of indignation he said:
"Madam, I wish you to understand
that I am neither fool nor crazy. This
morning Mr. Alden took me Into part
nership; I hasten to tell you the good
news, and you accuse me of being in
sane; nice encouragement, is it not?"
"Oh, Josiah, I am so glad!" said
"Is it really and truly true?"
"Yes, it is true; and, moreover. Mr. -Alden
is coming to live with us, and
when he dies he will leave all his
wealth to me. Maria, we are rich! No
more pinching and contriving; we can
live like human beings, and the chil
dren can have a chance to be some-,
body."
"Oh, Jo.siah, I am so glad!" said
Maria, and again the floodgate of tears
was opened; but this time the tears
were those of Joy, and were soon dried
up under her sun of happiness.
"Now, Maria, as soon as the chil
dren come we will have a little ex
cursion and celebrate the birthday of
the junior member of the firm of Alden
& Reynolds."
In the bosom of his family, Josiah,
kind and benignant, celebrated the day
which opened to him and his such delightful-
prospects.
Next morning : Josiah went to - his
work at the usual hour. The rest of
the help congratulated him some hon
estly, some enviously but all sub
serviently. He informed Mr. Allen
that he could not receive him till a
week had passed, for he was about to
move into a new house.
"You know, Mr. Alden," he said,
"it would not do for the firm to live
in such a neighborhood as that in
which I formerly lived."
"No, certainly not," assented Mr. Al
den. In a week everything was arranged.
Mr. Alden was installed with his new
partner in a fine bouse, nicely fur
nished. It was true Josiah was obliged
to run in debt for the furnishings, but
then the firm was good for it. Mar
tha had her music teacher; Alfred was
sent to college; Maria was not allowed
to do much of any work, except to
oversee the girl; the children were
finely dressed,-and everything went as
naturally as if the family had never
economized on fifteen dollars a week.
Mr. Alden made his will, leaving his
entire wealth to Josiah: but despite
the kind care of Maria, he dally grew
weaker. He never went to the store,
but Josiah, now always neatly dressed
and with a bud on his coat, kept the
business up to its usual standard,
though he had ceased to work as he
was wont to do when a clerk.
Business was very satisfactory; the.
life just suited Josiah; he felt himself
expand and broaden; it pleased him to
be called Mr. Reynolds by those who
formerly called him Josiah or even
plain Reynolds. It gratified him to
say to a good customer: "My partner,
Mr. Alden, is not well; he is staying at
my bouse;" or to say to a customer
from out of town: "We dine at six;
will you honor us?"
For three months all was rose-colored
then the bills began to come in
the quarter's rent, bills from the
house furnisher's, Alfred's college ex
penses, tailors', grocers', butchers' and"
a thousand and one other bills poured
in like an avalanche, till the poor man
was nearly distracted, and found it
even harder to. make both ends meet
than when working for fifteen dollars
a week. Pride would not allow him
to recede from his position, and by
hook and by crook - he managed to
make things come out nearly right;
but was obliged to borrow a few hun
dreds' from a friendly broker, who
knew the circumstances of Alden's'
will, and who readily took Josiah's
note. ;
Months went on thus, outwardly
pleasant to all, but Josiah found him
self steadily getting Into debt to the
friendly broker on whom he had to call
to keep up his credit and appearance.
"It is only for a short time," he ar
gued. "Mr. Alden cannot live much
longer, then I will have the whole
store and all his money."
Thus Josiah went on, calculating on
the death of his benefactor, till from
calculating he grew to thinking.
. "What is the good of his living? He
is of no use to himself .or others, and
only stands In the way of my advance
ment. Well, he cannot last much
longer, for he grows weaker day by
day." V -
This was indeed true; Mr. Alden
was unable to leave his room; he had
no particular aliment, seeming to succumb-
merely to old age.
A year had passed and Josiah owed
the broker about one thousand dollars.
When he borrowed his last installment
his friend said:
"How long do you think old Alden
will last?"
"I do not know. He Is now eighty
five years of age, and certainly should
not last very much longer."
"I do not know about that," said
the broker. "I was talking with a life
insurance agent a few days ago, and
he said that according to the mortality
tables of the Insurance company a man
of . eighty-five years could expect to
live for five years."
"What!" groaned Josiah, "do you
think Mr. Alden will live to be nine
ty?" .
"According to the table he can,"
said the broker, producing a series of
tables compiled by one P. E. Chase.
Josiah looked eagerly at the book. Yes,
there It was:
"Expectancy of Life eighty-five
years 5.18 years."
"So Mr. Alden will live to be nine
ty," he said, looking blankly at the,
broker.
"So it seems," said his friend, calm
ly lighting a cigar. !
"And what am I to do, run into debt
all this" time. Will you wait and still
furjiish me with; money?" and Josiah
wetted his lips anxiously. " -.
"I will wait" said the broker, "but
you will have to pay me a larger rate
of interest",
- "Anything at all," eagerly responded
Josiah. "I cannot go back now, but,
oh, I wish this suspense were over!
Why will he not die and leave bis
money where it will do 'some good?"
Josiah went home gloomy and'
thoughtful; he did not notice the many
respectful salutations he received; his
mind was filled with but one idea; one
.thought intruded itself and rang in his
ears with monotonous insistence nine
ty years, ninety years. When he
reached his hqme- he savagely repulsed
the children who came to him with a
recently learned timidity; snarled at :
his wife, and hastened to his room. I
This manner had become habitual i
with him and bad caused Maria many
tears, as her mind reverted to the
time when they were happy and con
tented on fifteen dollars a week. In
the privacy of his own room Josiah
gazed once more at the insurance ta
ble. The figures stared at him:
"Expectancy of. Life eighty-five
years 5.18 years."
"Yes, he will live to be over ninety,"
he said, bitterly. Glancing down the
column, his eye fell upon the figure
ninety with a cry of anguish; he read:
"Expectancy of Life ninety years
4.16 years."
"Great heavens !" he . exclaimed,
"then he will not die till he is ninety
four." As If directed by an external
power, his eye followed down the col
umn of figures till he reached ninety
four. There he read:
"Expectancy of Life ninety-four
years 3.49 years."
He groaned aloud. Feverishly he
once more scanned the column.
"He will be ninety-seven,," be
moaned.
Once more the figures seared them
selves upon his brain.
"Expectancy of Life ninety-seven
years three years."
Josiah dropped the book, his face
blanched to the color of its leaves.
"I see it all now," he exclaimed, in
a hollow voice, "this man can never
die; I might continue, this column on
indefinitely, but there would always
be something left He shall always
live to mock me with the anticipation
of wealth I shall never obtain!"
Next morning the old man was
found dead in bed: strangled to death,
the coroner said. Josiah was arrested,
and in one of lucid intervals, for he
was undoubtedly insane, confessed the
crime. -
He was confined in an Insane asy
lum, and the property left by Mr. Al
den was managed by Maria with the
same care she had displayed in the
management of fifteen dollars a week.
Waverley.
EFFECT OF PROSPERITY
Traveling Shows Could Not Fecnre
Euoash Helpers to Handle Tents.
"A circus handicapped by prosperity
sounds like pipe talk, but that was the
experience Ihad last summer," said
George Bowles, who until two months
ago was press agent for the Barnum
& Bailey circus and was In town on
Wednesday doing some advance work
for a new star.
. "All circus routes are based upon the
prosperity of the different sections of
the country. A section in which crops
are good and the banks are flourishing,
gets the circus, but a section where
there has been a failure of crops or of
big manufacturing enterprises is
passed up by the advance agent who
maps the route. This is a good policy
and is followed by every circus of any
size, but last summer for the first time
in all . my theatrical experience we
were burdened by a surplus of pros
perity. -
"When the circus was in Washing
ton reports stated that our canvassmen
and laborers had gone on strike. These
reports were Inaccurate, but they fol
lowed us wherever we went. The
truth of the matter was, our men de
serted upon tHeir lndivldual-jjiitiatlves
and not because of any concerted
movements to secure more money or
a reduction in their working hours. .
"Times were so prosperous that any
man with a good pair of biceps could
not only get a Job, but would have
people bidding for his services and
many employers who wanted good,
husky boys overbid the circus, where
upon the canvassman, figuratively
speaking, folded his Individual tent
and silently stole away. These deser
tions were so frequent that the circus
for about six weeks was constantly in
more or less trouble. We 6ent every
where for men. From the waterfront
in New York and other cities we got
sailors because they knew how to han
dle ropes, but they were with us only
a short while, until some enterprising
citizen with his own labor troubles
would offer them fancy wages, then
they would . skip out and we would
have to hunt again.
"The trouble was solved only .when.
for the first time in the history of the
circus, Mr. Bailey imported a large
force of Virginia negroes, who were
greatly pleased with the excitement
andnovelty of circus life. He tried
hard to avoid this move, but there
was too much doing, for white men, to
leave any other recourse." Washing
ton Times.
' How to Read."
Edward Everett Hale, in his excel
lent little book, "How to Do It" dis
cusses the matter of reading. The sub
stance of what he says may be given
in the form of the following ten rules:
1. Don't try to read everything.
2. Read two books on the same sub
ject, one solid, one for pleasure.
8. Don't read a book for the 'sake
of saying, . I have read it
4. Review what you read
5. Read with a pencil in hand.
6. Use a blank book. -
. 7. Condense whatever you copy.
8. Read less and remember it
9. One hour for light reading should
have one hour , of solid reading.
10. Whatever reading you do, do it
regularly. ', '
When Xiolt Was Taken Seriously.
On September 9, 1637, Francis
Broune, son to John Broune, wabster
In Banff, was convicted by the borrow
or justice court of the burgh of break
ing into the bulthe of Patrick Shand
and stealing therefrom "sume golff
ballis," and the Judges "ordainlt the
said Francis to " be presentlie tacken
and carelt to the gallowhIU of this
burghe, and hangit on the gallows
thereof to the death, whereof William
Wat dempster of the said, assyls,
galve doome." St James' Gazette.
... Her Status. .
"Why do you still call her a 'fin de
slecle girl'?"
"What's the matter with that?"
"Why, since that means literally the
end of the century girl,' it was only
used in speaking of girls toward the
close of the last century "
"Well, that's when she was a girl."
Philadelphia Ledger.
Patriotism always stands in with the
government -
No man is in business for himself If
he
la marked,
THE PASSING YEAR.
Across the shadows of the night
There come to my expectant ear
The twelve deep notes that tell the flight
Of yet another passing year.
Its limits reached. Its work Is done.
Its record sealed and sent on high.
Unknown to all and seen by none
Except God's own all-seeing eye.
h, me! those years, those vanished years,
In memory, but beyond recall.
How filled with foolish doubts snd fears,
How stained with sin and blotted aUl
What can we ask of thee but grace
To make these failures ot the past
The beacon lights by which to trace .
Our way to thee, O Christ, at last!
Farewell, Old Tear! There have been days
Of grief and ill so, too, of good;
And -for them both we give God praise,
Though at the time misunderstood.
His wisdom measures all our needs;
He knows the weakuess of our frame;
His lore our highest thought exceeds;
He calls jus by his own dear name.
Bo pass the years In solemn state
Beyond our ken; we count the sun;
They come and go, we watch and wait
Until our own set time shall come.
God of the years, from out whose hand.
With all our precious gifts, they come.
Give us the grace to understand.
And make them helps to lead ns home!
Christian Work.
& AN OLD MAN'S FIRST CHRISTMAS
BY HOPE DARING.
YES, I will do it. It's the only way I
can be sure of making a fair profit
next year. My workmen must under
stand that I run the mill to put money in
my own pocket,"
There was an ugly frown on Gilbert
Bentley's brow as he sat in' his shabby
little study, communing with himself. He
was a small, stooping man of 65, with
searching blue eyes, and a cold, forbid
ding expression.
"I'll do it at once. One week from
to-morrow I'll announce a cut of ten per
cent on all wages. One week that will
be the twenty-fifth. Why, that will be
Christmas, and the men must have a
holiday, Christmas! As if that old super
stition made any difference with the
world to-day!" . '
The frown on his brow deepened. He
leaned back, staring from a window. He
could see the long, low buildings of the
Bentley Lumber Company. In the back
ground was the leafless forest. The sun
was setting and the sky, above the tree
tops, was tinged with a rosy glow. '
Gilbert Bentley had spent ten years
in that lumbering village. In that time
he had doubled his capital. Now, owing
to a general depression, his profits were
smalL To continue his business through
the winter would mean very little profit
but doubtless, the spring would bring a
change. . Well, he would not wait for
spring.
Money had always been Gilbert Bent
ley's god. He had begun life a poor boy
and had worked his way upward, un
aided. His life had been too busy for
sentiment. To be sure he had married.
His wife lived only a few years. There
was a child. Harold had grown up, high
spirited and proud. In early manhood
he married against his father's wishes.
Estrangement had followed. Harold and
his wife died within a few months of
each other, leaving a little daughter.
Pride prompted Mr. Bentley to pay . the
girl's bills at a good school, but he never
saw her.
The door bell rang and there was the
sound of footsteps and voices in the halt
The door of the study was thrown open,
and a sweet voice cried:
"Grandpa, are you here?" . f
Before Mr. Bentley could "Bpeak, Simp
son, his old English housekeeper, enter
ed. In one hand she held aloft a lighted
lamp, thus showing Gilbert Bentley his
unexpected visitor. She was a slender
girl of sixteen, a dimpled, blonde face
lighted by sunny blue eyes.
"Why, don't you know me? I am
Florence, and I am glad so glad to see
you!" ( ' v
She was at his side, both arms round
his neck, and her lips uplifted for his
kiss. As in a dream he listened as she
'-" " " '
g&s III JR mMlmtM
i - -t htm hmf 'xElmilnfflywW
LminmiiiiJiirii mriiiiiiiff u mAiis-aiif
told how she had grown tired of spending-
her vacations at the school.
"You know, grandpa, that it is dread
ful to have no one of your very own to
be glad with, and I've come to spend
Christmas with you."
The girl was so sure that her grand
father was glad to see her that he could
not tell her she was unwelcome. An hour
later they sat at dinner. The old man
looked across to where the girl's golden
head gleamed in the lamp.
She chatted gayly. When they rose
from the table she went with him to the
study. Sitting on a stool, she told him of
her school life.
"I am happy there, grandpa, but Twill
be glad when school is finished. Then I
can keep house for you. It has been so
kind in you to do without me so I could
be educated." ' .
He made no response. - They parted
without the words being said that would
send Florence back to school. Mr. Bent
ley resolved to say them at breakfast the
next morning;. There he found himself
confronted by that smiling face, and was
obliged to hold his peace.
Florence stayed. Simpson, the maid,
and the man all delighted to serve her.
A few simple changes were made in the
dreary old house. Mr. Bentley chose
some new furniture. He ordered that
good fires should be kept np and bade
Simpson see that the table was well
spread.
Gilbert Bentley was powerless. Flor
ence would think the best of him. She
would think that he. loved her and was
glad to have her there. She would be
lieve that he shared her own love for hu
manity and her reverent trust in God.
She went with him to the mill and
through the village. There her mistaken
idea of his character showed in a strong
light. Many of his workmen were living
in poverty. She knew he was doing all
he could for them, but was there not
some way she could help ? - Whajt was he
going to do for the men and for the
churches of the town for Christmas?
WAITING FOR SANTA CLAUS.
Then they must remember the little chil
dren. ''
Christmas Eve came. Mr. Bentley
had shamefacedly ordered Simpson to
provide a "regular Christmas dinner."
He had never made a Christmas gift in
his life, but now well,- Florence would
persist in talking as if Christmas meant
as much to him as it did to ner.
He was thinking of this as he walked
home that evening. : It was suowing, and
the wind buffeted him as he mounted the
slope. The next day the mill must stand
idle, but on the following morning the
men should be notified of the reduction
in their wages. How angry they would
be! Gilbert Bentley's lips closed in a
firm,' cruel line. He had looked, out for
himself; others must do the same.
He reached the house. As he passed
through the hall the dining room door
stood open. ; He noted the vase of scar
let carnations,' ordered from the city, iu
the center of the table. Upon a quaint
old sideboard " was a basket of oranges
and pale green grapes and a plate of the
nuts over which Florence loved to linger
while he drank his coffee.
The old man's face softened. He sat
down before the fire. . He was so en
grossed in thought that he did not hear
Florence enter. '
"You precious grandpa!". Again her
arms were round his neck. "I found
your gift and I thank you a thousand
times. But grandpa, I want to ask you
for something more. It is a part in your
work I want you to give me.. And I
want to give you my help myself. It
is a wonderful position you hold so
much wealth and so many people whom
you can help. On this best of all nights
. the birth night of our dear Savior, kt
ns give ourselves anew to the work you
have been doing alone."
; Little girl, you don't understand. I
have not been what you think I have,
and "
Her dimpled hand closed his lips. "You
are not to malign my dear grandfather.
We will work together, will we not?"
"Yes, dear." ,
In those two words the old man re
nounced his greed and selfishness. On
the morrow bis workmen should receive,
not a reduction of their wages, but ait
assurance of his good will and Interest,
in them For this child's sake he would
learn to know and do his duty.
"It will be our first Christmas to
gether," Florence said dreamily, her
cheek pressed against his.
"Yes, little girl. It will really be my
first my very first Christmas." Homo-Monthly.
THE CHILD'8 FESTIVAL.
There is a Special Significance in
Christmas for the Little Ones.
HRISTMAS is the
true Children's day.
The Lord of the
feast was a child in
Bethlehem, and He
till loves little chil
ddren as He did
when, in the
strength of His
manhood, He took
them in His anns
end blessed them.
If . there were no
children in our
world to receive and
enjoy, ' the advent
time would lose much of its beauty and
delight. The child's imagination, which
transforms commonplace things, the
child's receptivity, - which does not r-top
to question, but enjoys these, reflect
themselves upon our minds and bring os
for the moment Into the childlike mood or
happiness. Nor is the child's thought of
happiness simply one of getting. Neither
the gifk nor the surprise of the gift dear
as these are to the child's heart, brings
as much pleasure as the planning and
the giving. The best of Christmas is en
joyed before ever Christmas comes. We
older ones need to be reminded every year
that love is more than elaboration at the
Christmas time, and that the value of the
gift is measured by the affection of the
giver; but unspoiled children know it and
act upon it as if there could be no doubt
of it at all, and we would all be happier
at Christmas if we were to learn of them.
Then - would the Christmas burden, of
which so many are complaining, turn to
pure delight. Congregationalism '
Tbe Porto Rlcan Christmas.
Christmas in Porto Kico is a church
festival of much importance and the cele
bration of it is made up chiefly of re
ligious ceremonies intended to commem
orate the principal events in the life of
the Savior. Beginning with the cele
bration of His birth at Christmas time,
the feast days follow one ' another In
rapid succession. Indeed, it may justly
be said that they do not really come to
an fend until Easter.
Sudden and Surprising.
"What do you most desire for Christ
mas, Miss Mabel?"
"Oh, George, this Is so sudden!"
"Wh what do you mean?"
"Why, of course, I want you!" ;
Foolish Resolutions.
The New Tear's vows that Perkins made
To keep will prove a strain.
He vowed to share himself this year
And use not words profane.
Very Easy.
Pat Whoy is th' owld year loike s
whet towel, Nora, darlint!
Nora Whoy?
Pat Because they always ting it ou