THE CHPISTMAS STOCKING
OLD
FATHER TIME
RECEIVES
CHRISTMAS MUSINGS.
YEAR.
THE NEW
ie ghostly light I'm
Hlldilg UiUSmg of
long dead Decem
bers,
Tile the
siiapes are tl
uuu out am
embers
a my hearthstone In
mad races, und 1
marvel, for In seem
ing
can dimly see th
faces ami the scene
of which I’m dream
Whate'«r the facts or fanel«i< of onr creed.
They are dlvire If they but serve our neertot
And hence the brightness of tluit glorious
dt’U,
That sit'll Is called “The Star of Bcthle-
hetu”—
A Star, b yond all other Btara, designed;
'l o sued a purer lustre on mankind,
And through the various lense» of the soul
To warm und cheer aud elevate the whole.
And what, although Its broad supernal beam»
May be but concentrations of the gleams
That lit up many an eastern Buddha’s breast,
lo shed erewhile their radiance o’er the
west ?
golden Cbrlitinu,
days of yore!
sweet anticipa-
lou
red tlielr Joys for
lays before
Their glorious reali
zation ;
And on the dawn
Of Christmas morn
My childish heart was unoc
A wild tattoo.
As ’twould break through.
As I unhung my stocKing.
Whate’er the grade or color of the flam®.
In essence, light and love are all the same.
Both myth and mystery must to all things
cihig
Else Progress has no source from whence to
spring.
Here none superior knowledge may assume,
As mind anti matter are conceived tn gloom;
Nor has .1 Veda or Apocalypse
Dispelled one cloud of the «profound eclipse.
But see’ ami 1 our happy homes we stand.
throughout
With peace and joy widespread
‘
the land.
While merry little household ('hrists are
born
Of every song and Minile this Christmas
morn.
Each simple gift that came to hand,
Bow marvelous I thought it!
A treasure straight from Wonderlaud,
For Santa Claus had brought it.
And at my cries
Of glad surprise
The others all came llock!n0
To share my glee
And view with me
The contents of the st« utng.
Then let our Inmost souls ascend In praise
To that mysterious power who guides our
ways;
And let us truly thank him, one and all.
For all Ids Christs and Vedas, great and
small
Years sped—J left each well-loved scene
In Northern wilds to roam,
And there, ’mid tossing pine tree« trreen,
1 made myself a home.
We numbered three
And blithe were we.
At adverse fortune mocking.
And Christ mast ide
By our fireside
Found hung the baby's stocking.
But. oh, alas! that we should only see
His love and rare in full prosperity!
Or that discomfort for a single hour
Should prompt us to deny bls fostering
power!
Oh! when shall It be clearly understood
That evil’s but the darkest shade of good;
That in some great equation may be blent
Darkness as though ’twere light’s true corn*
piemeat?
Alas’ within our home to-night
No sweet young voice is ringing,
, through its silent rooms no light,
Free, childish step Is springing.
The wild winds rave
O’er baby’s grave
Where plumy pines are rocking.
And crossed nt rest
rr’i.
marble breast
Tho hands that tilled my stocking.
But now that we are all assembled here
Ou this glad day, the white atone of th»
year-
As on this elevated plane we stand.
Let us give those below a helping hand.
Let each produce what treasures he has got
From any lore he loves—no matter what;
lint all the Christian needs, on his account.
Will simply be “the Sermon on the Mount,’*
—Jenuess-Miller Monthly.
With misty eve« but steady hand
I raise m.v Christmas (’bailee:
Here s to the children of the land
In cabin or In palace:
May each one hold
The key of gold
The gates of glen unlocking.
•
And hands be found
_ «...
"kole world round
To fll! the Chrlstmns stocking.
—Ladles’ Home Journal.
X UNCLE .JERRY’S
♦
i
CHRISTMAS. I
A FLORIDA CHRISTMAS.
How the Happy Day I h Celebrated in a
Fair Southern City,
any rate, all to once she give out and had
to go ter bed. The next mornin’ she
couldn’t get up, but Uncle Jerry didn’t
think much about it. s’posed she’d be up
bimeby; but when lie come in to dinner,
there lay his wife jest the same, as if
sh • hadn’t no thoughts o’ gettin* up.
He didn’t know what under the sun to
do, but he knew he must do somethin’, so
he het a brick and put to her feet, and
was jest making a mustard plaster to
put on her somewhere» when Mis’ Hop
kins happened in.
She see how it was with Aunt Betsey
in a minute. She’s awful cute about tome
things, Mis’ Hopkins is. and she ain’t
afraid o’ no man livin’.
"Uncle Jerry,” says »he. matter of fact
as you please, “your wife’s a very sick
woman', ami she's goiu’ to die right off.
I’m afraid, ’less we hyper round and do
somethin’, and do it quick. But fust I’d
better step over ’n’ fetch the doctor.”
Uncle Jerry was wonderful took down.
All of a sudden he realized that his wife
was invaloonble to him; he felt that he
N C L E J E II It Y
Foster was too stin
gy to live, and every
body knew it. But
everybody didn’t
k n o w li o w poor
Aunt
Betsey, his
wife, had to manage
and
contrive and
skimp to get along.
She never had the
handling of an y
money.
Even the
butter and egg mon
ey. that most every farmer's wife has for
her own use, all went into Uncle Jerry’s
pocket«; anil if «he wanted n new gown
or a bonnet or a pair o' shoes—I hadn’t
orter any if she wanted ’em, but if she
must have 'em, and there wa’n’t no possi
ble alrthly way for him to «kill out o' get
tin' ’em—then Uncle Jerry would go to
the «tore with her and buy ’em and pay
for ’em, jest as if she wan a child or an
ijiot, and incapable o' dewin’ business on
her own hook.
If Aunt Betsey hadn't had the best dis- I
position in the world, she wouldn't stood
it nil them years. As it was, it wore on
her, »nil told on her fearful. Though
Uncle Jerry was one o' the richest men in
town, she might ’a’ been the wife o' the
poorest and niiser'blest, so fur's any out-
wari Indication was consumed—or in
ward Indications, cither—for she was al-
wers half starved, and wa’nt nothin' hut
■ kin nnd bones, ns you might say.
Uncle Jerry grew wuss 'n' wuss, and
come along towards Christmas he got a
brnn’-new crochet fer savin' into his head.
It was nt family devotion one mornin',
jest before the leadin', that he divulgated
it to his wife. He finds the place in Xe- UNCLE JERRY SET
A STATU .
hemiar—lie nlwers read the long chapters
could
not
get
nlong
without
her,
nohow.
in fnll and winter and puts his thiini' in
to keep it, then, drawin’ on a long face, He was as anxious to have the doctor as
he looks nt Auivt Betsey over his spe'tu- Mis' Hopkins was, and told her to hurry
and bring him.
cles, aud says he:
So she went—he lived near by—and she
“Wife, I are of a notion that this ’ere
Christmas business is all foolishness! snys to him:
“Doctor Cross, now is your chance to
Seems if it must be a sin in the sight o’
the Lord to eat so much one day iu the do a deed o’ humanity, and put a spoke
year. 1 don't believe it’s necessary to ill Uncle Jerry Foster's wheel for all
make pigs ’n' gluttons of ourselves in time! If he’s got any heart and feelin's
order to have thankful hearts; and if we you must find ’em and work on to ’em for
go to meetin', and so on, why ain’t that his wife’s sake. It would lie cruel to
enough? I reckon we’ll sell the turkey bring her back to life, 'less you can do
this year nd have our usual dinuer, somethin' to make that life endoorable.
’long's there ain't no children coniiu' Don't, I beg on ye, raise her up to live on
in the same old skimpy tniser’ble way!
home, nor nothin'.”
Aunt Betsey set there with her hands Better let her die and done with it.”
They discussed and considered over the
In her lap. not exactly thinkin', but kinder
wonderin’ and grievin’. And when they matter for a few minutes, then went to-
kneeled down to pray she kept on wonder gather to the house.
They found Aunt Betsey layin’ jist the
in’ more'n ever.
She wondered what
she had to be thankful for, anyway. same only she stopped cryin’. The doctor
"Now, if Ellen could come home!" Ellen examined her and diaggernosed her case
was their dnlighter, all the child they had as well ns he could, then he mot iotied Un
in the world, and she lived so far away de Jerry out into the other room aud ahet
that she couldn't nfford to come home the door behind him.
It seems the doctor took him awful
■ nd bring the children bein' she was a
widder and poor hilt, oh, how her mother solium and in dead earnest, aud says he,
did wanter see her! "What did she care to begin with:
"Uncle Jerry, do you sot high rally on
about turkey and plum puddin' if Ellen
and the children couldn’t eat it with her? your wife's life?”
“High rally on my wife's life?” says
Yes. the money might ns well be put in
Uncle Jerry, red in the face. “Of course
I dew. What you talkin' about?”
“I was here when you fetched her home
a bride. I remember how handsome she
was; plump as n pa’tridge, fresh as a
flower, nnd as laughin' and chipper a girl
ns I 'bout ever see. Changed, terribly
changed, ain’t she?" turnin' to Uncle Jer
ry and feelin' in his pocket fer his han’-
k’chif to wipe away the tears. “It does
beat nil how she’s changed," says he.
"Changed!" says Uncle Jerry, U of a
fluster, "of course she’s changed! Why,
we've been married goin’ on 25 year! You
can't expect a woman to stay 18 all her
life!”
”1 know that farmers' wives grow old
pretty fast as a gireral thing; break down
“YOU* WIFK IS A VKIIT SICK WOMAN.” young, don't they? But, Uncle Jerry,”
squarin' round on him suddenl/ aud look
the batik; she didn't care."
So she in' him in the eye. “I want to nsk you to
thought on and on, not hardly sensin' the compare your wife's looks with the looks
prayer a mite.
of other women of her age in town, no
She went out to her work in the kitch handsomer, no healthier than what she
en feelin' all broke up. She didn’t know war when you married her. and tell me if
«•¿■7 “h«, should l>e, 'less she'd been kind you think there's a difference.
Now,
er secretly hopin’ to have Ellen and the they're different from your wife, and
cu!!*r"** Christmas was more than she why? I ask yon fair and candid, why
could bear. There wa’n't nothin' to her, shouldn’t she look as happy, be as happy
no time, as you might say. and this was and make as good a 'pearance every way
the last straw on he camel's back. *T as them women« And why is U that she
Jias took to her bed in the prime o’ life
and don’t wanter live no longer? For I
find that’s about the way it is with her.”
When Uncle Jerry came back he went
up to the bed and sat down beside his
wife and looked at her. She was asleep,
and Mis’ Hopkins thought he must ’a’
realized how pitiful she looked for she
seen him draw his hand acrost his eyes
two or three times on the sly.
Binieby he got up and went out to Mis’
Hopkins, and, says he:
“What was the doctor’s orders? What
can I do to help ye?”
“He ordered nourishin’ food, and wine,
and so on,” she says, “and I guess the
fust thing you may kill a chicken, if
you’re minter, and git it ready fer the
broth; then go over to Jim Jackson’s and
buy a quart or so of that oldest grape
wine o’ his’n. She’ll be awake by the
time you get backwith it, I gues».”
Uncle Jerry didn’t so much as wink at
mention of the chicken, but when she
spoke o’ the wine so offhand and matter
o’ course he drawed in his breath once or
twice killer spasmodicky, but he never
opened his head.
W hen the broth was ready Uncle
r.v asked if he might take it in; so
i Hopkins tilled one of the chiny bowls
was Aunt Betsey’s mar’s and set it
I plate with a cracker or two, and he
’em along.
The broth was good and strong,
when Aunt Betsey tasted on’t she looked
at her husband real kinder scairt, and,
says she:
“Where did this ’ere come from?”
And he ’aughed and says: “It’s made
out o’ one of our best Plymouth Rocks;
is it good?”
A wonderin’, quiverin’ smile hovered for
a minute on to her poor face; she didn’t
know wha.t to make on’t. But when be
lugged in the jug o’ wine and poured out
a hull half a tumbler full and handed it to
her, her eyes fairly «-tuck out of her head
with astonishment.
“Drink it; it’ll do you good,” says he.
“It’s Jim Jackson s oldest grape wine
you’ve hoard tell on.”
“Why—why, husband!” she whispered,
“didn’t it cost an awful sight o’ money?”
“Only $.’» a gallon,” he answered, tryin’
to smile, but lookin’ rather ghastly. She
sipped it slow, eyein’ him over the top o*
the tumbler as she done so; but pretty
soon she set it down and spoke again,
awful moachin’, and ’pealin’, her lips
tremblin’ as if she was going to cry.
“I’m sorry to put you to so much ex
pense. husband. I’m afraid—I’m afraid
it ain’t wuth while!”
He got up and blowed his nose with all
his might and main.
“I want yon to get well, Betsey. I want
you to get well!” he managed to say.
The strangest expression come into her
face you ever see in any creature’s. Then,
as if struck by somethin’ in his looks, she
seemed to get a dim idee that he was dif
ferent. and she tried to make out how it
was, but couldn’t, and, bein’ too tired and
weak to think much, she jest shot her
eyes and give it all up.
That night Uncle Jerry harnessed the
old mare and went over and got Mary
Buell to came ’n’ stay with ’em a spell.
Mary’s an excellent good hand in cases
o’ sickness, ami bein’ an old maid, she’s
always ready to go and dew for the neigh
bors. She’s a prime nuss ami honsekeep-
er. and she’s good company, too—jest the
kind o’ person to cheer Aunt Betsey up,
you know. Wall, it come along the day
—: ’ -~1
Another Year Is Dawning.
Another year is dawning!
Dear Muster, let It be.
In working or in waiting.
Another year with 'l’hee.
Another year is leaning,
Upon Thy loving breast
<J. ever-deepening trustfulness.
Of quiet, happy rest.
TN TROOPED A PARCEL O CHILDREN.
’fore Christmas, and Aunt Betsey lay
back in her easy chair in the cheerful Bit
tin’ room. A pitcher full of late fall flow
ers stood on the mantelshelf; a cracklin’
tire was burnin’ in the open tireplace, and
the old tabby cat lay before it on the rug,
purrin’ for all she was wuth—a perfect
pictur' of content.
The door was open into the kitchen, and
she could see Mary steppin' round about
her work, gettin’ ready for to-morrer.
She could smell the stuffin' for the turkey,
ami the plum puddin’ bakin' in the oven.
She knew there was a hull shelf full o’
pies in the pantry— she see 'em yesterday
—six mince, six punkin, three apple an’
three criuib’ry tart. She thought it was
too many to make at once; and seemed
so strange. She sighed and laid her head
back, with the old look on her face. She
was thinkin’ of Ellen and the children.
8he sat there, blamin’ herself and think
in’ what a poor, weak kind of a mother
she was, till the tears rolled down her
cheeks. Then, all at once, she heard a
noise outside.
The stage had stopped, nnd there was
the sound o’ voices talkin' and laughin’,
and of feet hurryin' up the steps. Then
the door opened—no, it was burst open—
and in trooped a parcel o’ children, and
behind ’em, not fur behind, with her hands
stretched out and the happy tears stream
in’ down her pretty face, come her daugh
ter Ellen!
win Ite Christmas holly overall tlx doors
to N
M rt rtTfot
«infer
sunsfrix
,a f flood
¿lory pot
pours j
___ to
1ht umk
r suns
th N ,a
lood ot of gloiy
Hfapbf(l?nshw roses (ufiywhertwfdn,
,
T
How them two Kissed ami clung to one
’n’ other, till the children got out o’ pa
tience and wouldn’t wait no longer for
their turn! Then Uncle Jerry came to the
resky aud says, betwixt laughin’ and cry
in’:
“There, there, children! I guess that’ll
dew! It’s my turn now,” and he took her
to the lounge whe*e she could lay and
rest and still be with ’em all. She pulled
him down to her ami kissed him and
whispered:
“Oh, husband, how good you be! You’ve
made me the happiest woman in the
world!”
Uncle Jerry got away as quick as he
could, and went out to the barn and set
down on the hay cutter and laughed and
wiped his eyes till he was some calmer.
Then he fell on his knees and thanked
God reverently for showin’ him before he
died what true happiness wuz, and how
to get it for himself by bestowin’ it on
others.—New York Tribune.
Lf Hbenj brtafy tf)t ir sued souls mlljebtartof flan.
miif rn lije Casern iiy
calter loue and kindness futrare qc i
Qlory betoQod on b'sb! IVaitaodgcoduiU fauard man/
Another year of mercies.
Of faithfulness and grace;
Another year of gladness.
in the shining of Thy face.
Another year of progress.
Another year of praise;
Another year of proving
Thy presence all the days.
Another year of service.
Of witness for Thv love;
Another year of training
For holler works above.
Another year Is dawning!
Hear Master, let It be
On heaven or else In henven.
Another year for Thee.
Don'ts About Girt».
Don’t above all things ask the giver
whether you may exchange her gift.
Don't forget that it is the inward spirit
that makes the real value of the offering.
Don't express dissatisfaction with a
gift, no matter how great your disappoint
ment.
Don’t above all things be guilty of mak
ing a list of articles yon desire. This is
a species of polite blackmail.
Don’t, even in your innermost self, spec
ulate as to whether your gift will bring
a return, and above all a return in mone
tary value.
Don’t forget that the chief charm of a
gift is essentially the surprise.
Don’t,
therefore, barter with a friend as to re
ciprocal gifts.
Don’t, if you have neglected to remem
ber a friend, wound her pride by sending
a New Year’s gift in exchange for her
Christmas present. The motive is too ap
parent.
Don’t give gifts because yon feel com
pel hsi to do so from a sense of social obli
gation. There are other ways to acknowl
edge indebtedness than by making the
holiest of holidays a matter of trade and
ba rter.
Don't consider the intrinsic value of a
gift when you are the recipient. /
when you are the giver let the gift
costly as thy purse can buy—don’t
skimpy!
II R I 8 T M A S in
Florida is a novel ex
perience to North
erners.
There the
manner of observing
this holiday is more
like a Fourth of
July
celebration
than anything else.
The incessant firing
of torpedoes and fire
crackers in the niid-
s die of the day and
the display of pyro
technics in the even
ing rob the day of
much of its mythol-
ogical and sacred significance. A stroll
through a typical town in the realm of
fruits and flowers gives a person from
The
the North some startling ideas.
show windows are full of firecrackers,
Roman candles, sky rockets, packages of
torpedoes and other fireworks. The July
weather is present, aquatic and field
sports are parried out in accordance with
a regular picnic program, and the sight
of thousands in holiday attire on a race
track, the borders of some pretty lake or
a baseball park, gives little hint of a cele
bration which at the North is attended
with sleighing, skating and Christmas
trees.
Only in the churches is the commemo
ration suggestive and familiar. In some
of these a great Christinas Ship, with
evergreen-trimmed masts, is displayed.
Bright little lads and pretty maids dress
ed in white and carrying tinsel wands
distribute presents to everybody. In the
negro quarters, too, the real yuletide fer
vor is shown. No one loves a holiday
better than a negro, and the eating, drink
ing and singing iu the rough, boarded
huts is engaged in with ardent zeal.
Through latticed windows and open
doors may be seen the smoking turkey
ar.d 'possum, hoe cake, pumpkin pies and
watermelons.
The patriarchal colored
preacher summons all his dusky clientele
to the rickety frame church in the after
noon or evening, fixing the minds of his
auditors on the sin of chicken stealing aud
wandering in the white folks’ orangs
groves after midnight. Then all hands
join in the chorus of the old Christmas
song:
Shin’ on, shin' on;
Doan’ git weary, chillun!
Shin' on. shin’ on—
Oh, Jerusalem!
The weird chanting, accompanied by
the regular tapping of the feet of ths
singers on the pine floor, is followed by
an adjournment to some large bam, where
th" music from the negro orchestra’s vio
lins and banjos for hours keep up the
dance, between fragments of—
“All de darkies am a weepin’,
Massa's in de cold, cold groun,’"
and "Suwanee River,” the plaintive
strains being wafted sweetly through the
swaying pines.
••Well?*’
Another Altered Will.
Little Alice—Mamma says she arn’t
ing to give yon anything for Christina»
this year. Papa’s Maiden Sister—Oh, she
isn’t, eh? Why not? Little Alice—’Cause
the present she give yon last year was
worth twice as much as what you give us.
Will Receive Calls.
MDo you expect to receive calls on New
Year’s day?” asked Willie Hi collar.
MYes.” answered Mamie Hollerton; “I’ll
have to. The telephone exchange where I
work wouldn’t give me the day off. Isn’t
it mean?”—Washington »tar.
A Clincher.
Mr». Oobwigger—You are to aak only
one more question the whole evening.
Freddie—Then, ma, if Santa Claus really
brings the present» why am I not to look
out of the window if an express wagoo
drives up to the door?—Judge.
A Definition of Christman.
Sunday School Teacher—Johnny, what
does Christmas mean? Johnny—My pa
■ays Christmas means swapping a lot o'
things you can't afford for a lot o’ things
you don't want.—Lift.
Nerd Not Interfere,
“I don’t see your mistletoe,” »aid he.
glancing up at the chandelier. “I, it real
ly necessary?" replied «he, archly. Il
wasn't.—Judge.
I
The Flirt.
The mistletoe ahe keeps In view.
And though she say* she won’t,
8be • angry with you If yon do»
▲nd cuts you if you don’t.