7
Bellefonte, Pa., Dec. 25, 1896.
A CHRISTMAS HARBINGER.
There’s a Christmas indication,
Known to every married male;
There’s a Christmas intimation
That is never known to fail.
It is not the blizzard blowing
From Dakota east to Maine
Or the fierce or fitful snowing
Or the slush producing rain.
None of these will tell the story
- Of the daily dying year,
None of these that Christmas hoary
And the holidays are here.
But his peace of mind is ended,
And he knows just where he's ad,
When the hosiery’s distended
And the pocketbook is flat!
EARLE H. EATON
THE LEADING MAN.
A CHRISTMAS STORY BY ALICE E. IVES.
[Copyright, 1896, by the Author.]
# A Christmas tree!”
“Yes, and you must come to it.”
“Thank you—I""—
“Oh, but you must! The whole com-
pany are to be there, and every one is to
have a present, if it’s only a box of ‘tooth-
picks. If we can’t be home, we're going
to play we're all one big family.”
“I hope your play will be a ‘hit,’
laughed the new leading man; ‘‘but, real-
ly, I’ve lots of letters to write’'—
“On Christmas night?’ cried the sou-
brette, with horror.
“Yes. Christmas is no more to me than
any other day. You really must excuse
me, Susie.”’” And the leading man’s face
became a bit hard as he turned away.
‘So his high and mightiness won't come.
I thought so,’’ said the heavy woman.
“No, said the soubrette, slightly crest-
fallen; ‘‘he isn’t in the humor.”
It was the day before Christmas, and
“The Great Gold Mine’’ company were all
on the stage for rehearsal. How they hated
‘WELL, THERE ARE ALWAYS TWO SIDES TO A
STORY.”
it on the day of all others when they
wanted to be free! But the leading man
had quarreled with the stage manager and
left suddenly, and rehearsals had to be
called for the newcomer.
Do you know what Christmas means in
a traveling theatrical company, you who
on that blessed day can sit safely housed
under your own rooftreo, beside your own
fires and beneath your own spray of holly,
where the one you love can call to you a
merry Christmas ard the eyes that love
you can look into yours?
Have you thought how those wanderers
who find themselves 1,000 miles from
home, husband, wife, sister, n:other or the
babies at Yuletide may perhaps flick off
a tear or two while putting on the grease
‘paint?
At “Tho Great Gold Mine’’ renearsal the
heavy woman rushed in from the express
office after sending a box of dolls and toys
to her youngest, and the low comedian, who
was a very vulgar person every night, look-
ed tenderly at a sample of black silk from
the gown for mother. Others talked in a
jolly spirit of comradeship about the Christ-
mas tree. Susio Sunly pondered a little
over the new leading man’s rofusal to join
them.
‘‘He’s too big,’’ went on Mrs. Cowles.
‘‘He always wanted the earth. I wonder
we got him. Well, I've no patience with a
man who will treat his wife as he did. It’s
a shame! Jennio Braco was as nice a girl
ae ever lived, and to think of his leaving
her for that Blanche Kendrick! Poor Jen-
nie! She just about worshiped him. I
thought they were too happy to have it
last. Oh, these men!’’
‘‘“Well, there are always two sides to a
story,’’ said the soubrette, “and I happen
"to know'something of the other side. His
wife was that jealous of him she just mado
a small sized hades and carried it around
with her. I know she thought her eyes
of him, but she didn’t go the right way to
show it.” s
+] guess he gave her cause enough to be
jealous.”’
“Not at first he didn’t. But you know
he’s a handsome, fascinating fellow, whom
women have always been good to, and he
can't help doing the agreeable to save his
life. I've heard her nag him even in the
wings if he stopped to chat with one of the
ladies.”
‘‘Now, Sue, you know it went beyond
innocent chats.’’
“I'm not saying it didn’t in the end. I
was in the same company, and I saw the
whole thing.’’
“You did?”
“Yes. Blanche Kondrick was doing
the leads, and one night I heard Jennie
going for him in the dressing room about
her.”
‘‘He stood it very quietly for a time.
Then he blazed out: ‘See here, Jennie, I've
borne your senseless jealousy about long
enough. 1’ve told you you had no real
eause. But, by Jove, I'll give you one
now, so that you may know what the real
article is like.’ ”’
“The brute!”’ broke in Mrs, Cowles.
‘Yes, it was rather brutal, but it was
pretty natural, too, and I don’t know that
I blamed him much.
‘Well, that night Forrest Burrows took
Kendrick out to supper and didn’t ask his
wife.
“Two or three of us were on to the fra-
cas and wera watching out for the climax.
It came bright and early the next morn-
ing. Jennie went to the manager—oh,
she was a determined little thing!—and
she told him if he didn’t give Kendrick
notice she would leave and take her hus-
band with her.
“Poor Barry, the manager, was in a bad
fix. But Jennie was just playing small
parts, and they could spare her a great
deal better than they could Blanche Ksn-
drick.”
“The hussy!”
i
“Yes, she wasn’t any too good, but she
was a great ‘looker,’ and she could act.
«1 was on the stage when Barry called
Burrows aside to speak with him. I heard
Burrows say: ‘Why, I haven’t the least
idea of leaving. As for my wife, that’s
only a little fit of jealousy. It'll blow
over.’
“It didn’t blow over, though. In one
wetk from that time Jennie left and went
home alone. I think Burrows never im-
agined she’d do it, for he camo near going
to pieces in the first act after he found she
had gone. I believe at first he thought of
going after her. But you know what
throwing up an engagement in the middle
of the season means, and after that
Blanche Kendrick just wound herself
around him. She knew how to do it.”’
“Did Jennis get a divorce?”’
“I don’t know. Wasn't there a child?’
¢‘Seems to me I heard so, but I’m not
sure. Anyway poor Jennie has been hav-
ing hard lines.”
‘Burrows was ill for nearly a year and
couldn’t work. I suppose he couldn’t do
much for her.”
“I dare say he gives it all to the Ken-
drick.”’
“Oh, no; that was off long ago. Do you
know the way he spoke a few minutes ago
about Christmas? It seemed to me he was
thinking of his wife.”’
“More likely of the new part,’ sniffed
the heavy woman.
“Pirst act!’’ shouted the stage manager,
and the soubrette made a dash for her en-
trance.
Things seemed bound to go crisscross'in
«The Great Gold Mine’’ company. That
very day Paquita, ‘‘the child wonder,’ who
played the infant role, was taken with the
measles, and a new child had to be speedily
secured. ho
She was rather a pretty little thing, with
large, blue eyes and curly, golden hair, but
as she was not yet 4 yearsold the manager
feared she was too young, but the woman
who brought her assured him she was very
clever and would soon learn the two or
three lines she was to speak.
“Great Cassar! A new kid, too!’ sighed
the leading man. ‘‘She’ll be afraid of me,
and the audience will think I've kidnaped
her instead of being her lawful parent. I
must try to cultivate her.’’ :
*‘Come here, midget,’’ he said kindly.
“I’m not midget. I'm Little Pearl,’ an-
swered the mite, with great dignity.
“That's a very nice name.’’ And he put
out his arms to her.
She hesitated. ‘‘I don’t think I like
you,’ she said doubtfully.
“Dear me! Why don’t you like me?’’
‘You're too handsome.’
There was a chorus of laughter at Bur-
rows’ expense.
“That's the first time my fatal beauty
ever proved to be a drawback in the pro-
fession,’’ laughed Burrows.
¢‘ My mamma said I was not to like hand-
some men,’’ said the child gravely.
“Mamma has evidently had a history,”’
added Burrows in an aside voice. ‘‘But,"’
he went on, determined to conciliate tho
child, “I am your papa, you know. You
must be good to me anyway.”’
“Oh, are you really my papa? Then
mamma won’t mind if I kiss you.”” And
the tot suddenly flung her chubby arms
around the leading man’s neck and put
her little cherry lips up to his.
The situation was, to say the least, em-
barrassing. Titters were heard in various
directions, and a smothered guffaw ex-
ploded in the wings.
“Oh, Imean Iam your papa in the play!
We are just making believe,’ hastily cor-
rected the actor.
The little one drew away from him, and
the childish lips quivered.
“Qh, I thought you were my really,
truly papa!” she said, with a strangely
pathetic look in the big blue eyes. *
“Didn’t you ever seg your papa?’
“No, never.”’
‘Is he dead?’
“I don't know. Mamma cried when
acked her.”’
‘I hope he was good.”
“Qh, ho was! My mamma said so.”’
“Then he must be dead,’’ said the lead-
ing man in a decided tone.¢ ‘‘The good
men are all dead. It always proves fatal.
I'm quite bad, you know.”’
“I don’t think you're bad,’ gravely
shaking her head.
‘Bless you! That’s comforting—to have
some one have faith in you. I mean I'm
bad in the play, not always. You will like
me, won't you?'’
“Oh, yes, if mamma lets me.”’
A truce being thus arranged, the re-
hearsal proceeded. That night the lead-
ing man mado a hit, and Little Pearl ac-
quitted herself with credit. When she
came to the line, ‘‘ Papa, won't you kiss
mamma?’ she got a round of applause.
But there was something wrong with
Burrows. Hestopped suddenly, as though
he had seen a ghost in the wings, faltered
in his speech and was only saved by the
loading woman throwing him his line. In
two minutes the curtain was down and
“DIDN'T YOU EVER SEE YOUR PAPA?’
the people had scattered to their rooms.
But Burrows still held the child's hand.
He led her to some one who was waiting
for her. She was a pale, thin little wom-
sn in shabby clothes.
“Jennie,” he cried, ‘‘are you ilI?"’
The woman became a shade paler and
caught at the heavy set beside her.
“Come,”’ she said to the child, ‘‘come,
Edith.”
“Edith! My God, my own child, and I
didn’t know it!"
He caught the little one to his heart, al-
most crushing her in his strong caress.
‘Give her to me,’ said the woman, with
a sort of flerceness. ‘‘It is time for her to
go home.’
“Won't you let me see her just a mo-
ment? Am I not her father?’’
‘Oh,’ cried the little one gleefully, ‘‘are
you really and truly my papa? Then why
don’t you kiss mamma too?’
“I would,” said Burrows very softly,
‘if she would let me. Tell her, Edith, I
would like to very much, and I would
like to go home with her and Stag with
you and her and’’—
‘‘Well,”” broke in the child, ‘‘why don’t
you kiss her?”
* The leading man still held the child
o\ +L S {
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Th = =
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tightly in his arms. He looked appeal-
ingly at the small woman, who had not
changed her position.
“Jennie,’’ he said, ‘‘it is Christmas eve,
» time to forgive and forget. I want the
old times back. For the child’s sake, can
ou’ Ys
y Somehow he couldn’t get any further,
for Jennie was sobbing on his breast, and
Edith was reiterating her request for him
to kiss her, and he was obeying her com-
mands quite to the letter.
The little child had led them. And that
night the leading man had a Christmas
treo of his own.
THE ISLAND KINGDOM.
Religious and Social Christmas Customs In Japan.
It may seem to “us Americans with our
preconceived notions that it is hardly worth
while to celebrate a Christmas without the
blazing Yule log, or the Christmas tree,
or mistletoe and holly, or one and all of
the accompaniments of that season that
have become a part and parcel of our bring-
ing up. Yet the majority of the 87,000
Christianized natives of the Island King-
dom, in their ‘‘artless, Japanese way, find
pleasure cnough in observing the day in a
manner that would make us think that
the seasons had been turned topsy turvy,
and our civilization along with them.
The Japs work all day Christmas be-
cause that is their busiest time of year. It
is the season when trade is the most active
and the export traffic at its height. Church-
going and holiday making are therefore
deferred until evening. In the meantime
the churches are trimmed by the women
and made veritable bowers of flowers, for
December in the greater portion of Japan
is a genial month, and flowers are so cheap
that enough wagon loads of blossoms and
greenery to trim Barnum'’s circus tent can
be bought for $10. :
All Japanese seem to possess the artistic
instinct in a high degree, and the women
are no exception. Of course they chat
and gossip in a lively fashion, just as our
own women do, while their nimble fingers
are at work tying and bunching together
the camellias, chrysanthemums and roses
that are lying around them in huge piles.
Their ideas of color effects in church deco-
ration are different from ours, and per-
haps more correct. Instinctively they
seem to realize that white is the emblem
of purity and green the color of nature; so
white and pale yellow flowers are imposed
against backgrounds of solid green leafage,
into which are interwoven branches of
dwarf ogange trees with the ripe, yellow
fruit upon them.
After church comes the Christmas din-
ner, though it is as unlike our own feasts
as ono can well imagine. Turkeya have
been introduced into Japan from this
country, and the goose they have had with
them always. But chicken and duck are
the poultry delicacies held in highest
esteem, though fish in various forms is
the principal feature of the meal. The
fowls are boiled and served cut up in small
pieces mixed with rice, lily bulbs, mush-
rooms, cabbage root, onions or other vege-
tables in the form of salmis or stews. The
fish are also boiled and served whole,
Roasting and frying are unknown to
Japanese cookery, for all food among the
rank and file of the nation is eaten with
chopsticks. They are an improvement on
the Chinese articles and do not require so
much deft juggling to produce satisfactory
results. Each guest bas his individual
small and low table and seats himself on
the thick matting with which the floor of
the dining room is carpeted. The soup
served as the first course is drunk from
handsomely lacquered bowls, and the rice
wine that is drunk with all of the courses
loses nothing of its flavor from being
served in dainty porcelain oups.
The Japanese family concludes its ob-
pervance of Christmas day by giving the
children a frolic, while their elders look on
sedately. If the Japanese Christians crowd
their merrymaking and religious cere-
monies into a shorter space of time than
wo do, they nevertheless appear to enjoy
themselves quite a8 much, and it may be
that we can take a leaf out of their beok
with both pleasure and profit. . .
E. W. POTTER.
A Christmas Carol.
The frost gleams white on the house tops high,
And the clouds, they look like snow,
And the plumber man goes briskly by—
Blow, little tin horns, blow!
And I view my cash with a secret sigh,
And I say to my soul, ‘“Go slow!"
But the children come, and I can’t look glum—
Blow, little tin horns, blow!
Bo I'm quite resigned to the rocket’s noise
And the roman candle show;
It's hands all around with the girls and boys—
Blow, little tin horns, blow!
—Atlanta Constitution.
A CUBAN CHRISTMAS.
The Philandering, the Foastingand the Wedding. The
Padre und His Pretty Sister—The Senorita
Across the Way—A Christmas Dinner
and the Consequences of the
Presence of the Small
Boy.
{Copyright, 1896, by the Author.]
HE hut was a little one, with a
mud floor and a roof of ‘‘yagua,’’
or palm spathes, and the hens,
a " the cats, the dogs and the pigs
rambled around and through it at their
own sweet will. But it wasthe best shelter
the priest could offer me, his own house
being full, and I was certain that if it had
been a palace, with marble walls and ceil-
ings of gold, I should have been just as
welcome, for I had come to the hill of
Santo Cerro with a letter of introduction
from the president of the district and had
the sanction of authority behind me. This,
however, was not necessary, for the padre
himself was of the hospitable sort and
would have given me all he had merely
because I was a stranger and an American.
He lived in the hut adjoining, with an aged
mother and remarkably pretty sister as
housekeepers, the only white people in the
little hamlet, all the rest being more or
less marked by a ‘‘dab of the tar brush.”
His education had been obtained in Spain
in a Spanish university, and he was well
informed and intelligent. He was about
25 years old, and his beautiful sister had
not monopolized all the good looks of the
family. It was owing to this ‘‘fatal gift of
beauty,’’ I was told, that he was to be found
in this secluded spot, having been banish-
ears as penance for al-
young ladies to fall in
sure, for he was a model of propriety and
piety. He roso at dawn and ministered at
early mass; he visi faithfully the sick
and the dying; he won_the love of all, old
and young. If perchance some foolish
young woman chose to bestow upon him
her untried affections, lacking opportunity
for reciprocal love among the laity, whose
business was it? At least, this is the way
the sacristan expressed it, and it ould not
become me to dissent.
I was assigned a seat at the padre’s ta-
ble right opposite his pretty sister and
feasted upon the best fruitsof Santo Car-
ro's gardens, During my leisure I mo-
nopolized the company of the fair senorita
as much as possible. I could speak Span-
ish but haltingly, while she understood
not a word of my own tongue. This gave
‘us a good excuse for companionship, and
it was availed of to the utmost, go that as
the days passed we acquired much infor-
mation of each other's language and cus-
toms. -
The glorious hill country of Cuba never
looks so beautiful to the eyes of the stran-
ger visiting it as in the winter season
when he knows that his own land is cov-
ered with snow and ice. Its beauty is en-
hanced by the contrast. This of itself was
an excuse to linger, and thus it was that
Christmas found me still a guest of the
padro’s household. Near the hill on which
the hamlet was perched was an ancient
ruin, where 400 years ago the Spaniards
had built a fort and surrounded it with a
town. Long ago, more than 300 years,
fort and village had been destroyed by
earthquakes; but their remains offered a
fair fleld for investigation. This was my
pretense for lingering, and in support of
it I kept a force of laborers excavating the
ruins. Now and then they brought me
gold and silver images, bits of pottery that
had once adorned old time kitchens and
nntique coins. But I knew well enough
that most of their time was spent in their
grass hammocks swung under the silk cot-
tons and that precious little digging they
did unless their spies announced my com-
Ing down from the hill. Then there was
great activity, and the old forest surround-
ed ruins became the scene of lively labors.
But as they exacted a daily wage each of
only 40 cents and were quite content so
long as 1 did not hurry them, I cannot say
that we were not mutually satisfled.
Christinas morning opened clear and
rE
cool. The alr was sweet, laden with heavy
odors of frangipani and magnolia, and
the cicadm in the trees were tuning their
winged instriiments premonitory to a heat
song at midday. I walked to the chapel
on the brow of the hill and was reveling
in the magnificent scene spread out be-
low when the priest came out and warmly
greeted me. There would be a special
| service at noon he informed me, but in the
afternoon we would take a little ‘‘paseo.’’
One of his parishioners, the owner of a
rancho, had invited him and his house-
hold—including, of course, his guest—to
comeover and join him in an old fashioned
san-cocho. ‘‘And you must go, my friend,
for there you will obtain a glimpse of
some queer Cuban customs. ’’
I thanked him for the invitation and
then asked: ‘‘But what is a san-cocho? I
nave never seen .the word in the diction-
ary. ”
“True,’’ he answered, with a twinkle in
his eye. ‘‘The word isn’t in the dictionary,
ptti=nell no matter. I will not explain.
ou shall go with us and see for yourself.
Do not linger too long at the ruins today.
In fact, I am of opinion that your laborers
will not even do their daily task, since this
is Christmas day, you know.’
‘You are right, ’’ Irejoined. ‘‘Of course
they will not work today. Then, with
your permission, I will return to the house
and assist the ladies at their preparations. ”’
‘‘Go, my eon,’’ he said, with a wave of
his white hands, as in benediction, ‘‘and
may God guard thee. I have my duties in
the chapel, after performing which I will
.join you.”
Early in the afternoon two solemn vis:
aged donkeys were brought to the door of
the padre’s hut, having on their backs
enormous saddles of straw, which over-
hung them as the eaves of a thatched cot-
tage overhang the walls. Upon these safe
and sanctimonious animals were soon
mounted Senorita Laurita, the sister of
the priest, and Senorita Valdemiras, the
young lady from across the way. As they
left the door two flery steeds were brought
up, upon whose backs the priest and my-
self vaulted airily and then darted after the
donkeys. These we soon overtook, and, by
a very natural arrangement, dropped
alongside the ladies. Valdemiras was dark
of skin, but a perfect odalisque for beauty,
with raven tresses and flashing black orbs,
like liquid fire, except that they were per-
petually melting into dewy languorous-
ness—in their depths such passions slum-
bering! Ah, if the good bishops who ban-
ished the padre to this desert spot could
have known of Valdemiras—well, they
just wouldn’t have done it, Iam thinking!
I don’t know what the padre thought
about it, for he never told me, but it seem-
ed to me that Valdemiras had him securo-
ly cnmeshed in those long, silken tresses;
had seared his soul, the bishops might have
said, with those flery glances. To be sure,
as I said before, it was no business of
mine. Besides there was the fair Laurita.
Her brother's absorption in his charmer
only gave me an excellent opportunity for
becoming better acquainted with her own
lovely character. She was most certainly
a gin of wit and beauty, fair and sweet be-
yond any dream of dismal celibate, and,
since I was the only available man in the
party, was that afternoon particularly gra-
cious and approachable.
We arrived at the rancho in high spirits,
and while the ladies were taken by the pro-
prietor’s wife to an inner room of the
-{. house, where they might rearrange their
blue black - tresses and dab a fresh coat of
powder on their cheeks, the padro and I
wandered about the premises. The house
consisted of -the ordinary ‘‘bohio,’’ or na-
tive hut of split palm logs, covered with
bark. There were three rooms, all on the
ground floor, which was of clay. The
three rooms were open at the top, clear to
the roof, low partitions separating them,
the central one being used for living and
reception room and the sido ones for sleep-
ing apartments. ;
Soon we were invited in to partake of
the san-cocho, which, as it was already
on the table, I found to be a sort of olla
podrida, something similar to the West
Indian pepper pot, which is composed of
everything beneath the heavens and on top
of sthe earth, all thrown into one varthen
receptacle and stewed or secethed together.
This is ealled a ‘‘san-cocho’ and is a
favorite dish in the country districts—a
kind of hodgepodge of a stew, with bits of
pork and chicken particularly prominent.
Around the steaming vessel of san-cocho,
then, 12 hungry people were seated at the
groaning board, which was covered with a
tablecloth heavily embroidered. The padre
invoked divine blessing. Our host, his
wife and daughter helped us lavishly, and,
moreover, cvery guest helped himself and
with his fingers. It was, I soon perceived,
considered the height of hospitality to pick
out & choice morsel with your fingers and
land it with a flourish in your neighbor’s
plate. I found, as I explored the contents
of the vast earthen pot, a wishbone, which
I had the pleasure of dividing with Laurita.
I secured the longer half, at which there
were much exclaiming and demanding of
what I had wished for. At first I would
not satisfy their curiosity, but when Lau-
rita herself insisted that I should I pro-
claimed that my wish had something todo
with her. Then there was renewed oxcite-
ment and a general demand that the wish
should be gratified and that I should tell
them at once what it was. Laurita must
have divined it, for she was silent and
cast down her eyes, only darting at me one
provoking glance. At last, in response to
the universal request, I declared that if
the senorita would promise to grant my
wish I would not insist upon it then, at
which there was another outburst of re-
monstrance. a
The san-cocho was finally finished, but
that was not all of the feast, for after the
table was cleared our sturdy host excused
himself for a moment, while all present
looked expectantly in the direction of the
‘“‘horno.”” And there was a grand out-
burst of applause when our host reappear-
ed bearing proudly aloft that same little
porker, former occupant of the oven, look-
ing so cheerful and grinning so compla-
cently that we fully expected him to squeal
with satisfaction. And, as for his com-
plexion, it was so brown and crisp that ev-
erybody there was wishing to taste it at
once. He almost fell to pieces when they
pointed their fingers at bim, and several
fingers were pointed at him in less time
than it takes to mention it, and he was
soon shredded into delicious flakes and my
plate again loaded with friendly offerings.
Our host brought out a cask of home-
made wine, and we pledged each other in
the juice of the Cuban grape.
Cornhusk cigarettes and real Cuban
cigars were next passed around, to which
the ladies not only did not object, but
themselves assisted in depleting the abun-
lant supply. And as the smoke wreaths
of the fragrant weed were curling around
the rafters overhead and losing themselves
smong the thatch the host arose and made
an announcement that was received with
applause. He had, he said, a son, an only
‘“‘muchacho bueno,’’ who was then ‘‘comi-
enda una gallina,” literally ‘‘eating a
pullet.”” This term in Cuban parlance
meant that the young man was much en-
amored of a brown skinned beauty’ to
whom he was paying honest court. They
were commanded to stand up and take the
floor, which they promptly did, a brick red
blush mantling the cheek of each young
culprit. Then, at a signal, which doubt-
less had been prearranged, Laurita and
Valdemiras supported the bride to be on
one side, while I was requested to make
one of a male couple to preserve the bal-
ance on the other. The service was short,
but impressive, and the young couple, with
grave faces, soon received the congratula-
tions of their friends. The ceremony was
followed by a dance; this in turn gave way
to another feast, and it was well into the
night when we mounted our beasts and
ambled toward the rectory.
Our pathway was faintly illumined by
the last quarter of the moon, and when we
nad arrived at the hamlet and the animals
had been sent to their pasturage it was
proposed to stroll over to the chapel and
Jonk at the valley by moonlight. I was the
one tc propose it, of course, for I doubt if
it had ever entered the head of any one of
my friends to do such a romantic thing as
to go out of his way for a view either by
moonlight or sunlight. There was a con-
sultation, the pretty sister seeming aston-
ished at my temerity, but Valdemiras.
came to the rescue—she was a woman of
remarkable sense— and decided for the
stroll. *‘Of course,’’ I heard herargue, ‘‘if
it is the custom for the stranger to walk at
night with his female friends when he is
at home, ve should do as he wishes. And
then your . rother will be with us, and the
mother will not object.’’
This decided the matter, and, though
in a flutter of mingled dread and delight,
Laurita consented. As for the padre, he
Sear
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THE SENORITA ACROSS THE WAY.
was a good man, with a heart full of ths
milk of human kindness, and so he mere-
ly tucked the arm of the astute Valdemiras
within his own and led the way to the
chapel steps. He sought out a seat on the
shady side of the chapel, where we could
overlook the valley, and promptly gave his
attention to the view and to the companion
at his side. This very sensible arrange-
ment left the pretty sister to be entertained
by me and the moon. And as Iwas a com- :
parative stranger, and as she had not
probably in all the 19 years of her innocent
existence given the lunar orb more than a
passing thought, the situation scemed to
her novel in the extreme. Well, lunar ob-
servations are sometimes pleasant, though
practically profitless. Like the man in the
moon, their charms are purely imaginative.
The spirit of mischief suggested that this
might be the opportunity of which I had
not availed at the ‘‘bohio,’” I in turn sug-
gested the same to Laurita, but ehe was
gure—quite sure—it was not. And yot she
did not withdraw ber hand, which lay so
temptingly within my reach. She did not
object when I reached around her and ar-
ranged the mantilla which had fallen from
her shoulders. I was younger then than
at this present writing. I was younger—
my blood raced unimpeded through my
veins. Looking vaguely beyond and over
her shoulder, I saw just then a small boy
comfortably curled up against the chapel
wall.
I was shocked, perhaps indignant, for it
then flashed upon me that the small boy
had been set to watch us. But I managed
to say, though with an effort: ‘‘Do you
know, I admire your brother so? He real-
izes to me the Scriptural injunction to be
harmless as the dove.’’
“Yes,”’ she rejoined, noting tho intru-
sive object and a faint smile, in which
amusement and regret were strangely
blendcd, hovering around her lips, ‘‘and do
you know I sometimes think he has heeded
that other injunction to be wiso as the
serpent. ’’
Perhaps it might not have ended that
way were it not for tho above said watch-
ful small boy. At all events, Valdomiras
was led to the altar not long after, but
not by me. The groom was a dashing
Cuban with graceful form and flashing
eyes. Yet I had a delightful Christmas.
FRED A. OBER.
Philosophy of Giving.
The man who starts out to buy presents
does not stop to count the cost or inspect
the quality of the articles profusely ex-
posed to his fancy. Everything goes, as
the saying is, and he crams his pockets
with a miscellaneous assortment of things
for which he pays two or three times as
much as they are worth, when they are
worth anything, and which nothing could
induce him to purchase, or hardly to carry
home without expense at any other time
of the year.
This is not the highest expression of the
meaning of Christmas, but it is authentic
and salutary as far as it goes. It isin
harmony with the spirit of the festival,
and its efforts tend to keep alive those
feelings and inspirations which are the
mainstay of society and the basis of mo-
rality and religion. So long as the germs
remain there is sure to be growth and
product.
A Strong Reminder.
Oldsoak—I want to give the dear girl
jomething that will strongly remind her
of me whenever she sees it.
Cynicus—Then give her a pocket flask.