I A CRADLE SONG. Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber; Holy angels guard thy bed! Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head, Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide, - All without thy care or payment All thy wants are well supplied. How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven He descended, And became a child like thee. Soft and easy is thy cradle; Coarse »nd hard thy Savior lay; When His birth place was a stable, And His softest bed was hay, Bee the kindly shepherds round Him, Telling wonders from the sky! Where they sought Him, there they found Him, With His Virgin mother by. See the lovely Babe a-dressing ; Lovely Infant how He smiled ! When He wept, the mother's blessiug Soothed and hush'd the holy Child. Lo, He slumbers in His manger, Where the horned oxen fed ; Peace, my darling ! here's no danger ! Here's no ox a near thy bed ! May'st thou live to know and fear Him, Trust and love Him all thy days; * Then go dwell forever near Him ; See His face, and sing His praise. 1 could give thee thousand kisses, Hoping what | most desire; Not a mother's fondest wishes Can to greater joys aspire, —lsaae Watts, A STOLEN CHRISTMAS. ‘I dot’t 8’pose you air goin’ to do much Christmas over to your house.” Mrs. Luther Ely stood looking over her gate. There was a sweet, hypocritical smile on her little thin red mouth. Her old china-hlue eyes stared as innocently as a baby’s, although there was a certain bardness in thew. Her soft wrinkled cheeks were pink and white with the trne blond tints of her youth, which she had pever lost. She was now an old woman, but people still looked at her with admir- ing eyes, and probably would until she died. All her life long her morsel of the world bad in it a sweet savor of admira- tion, and she had smacked her little femin- ine lips over it greedily. She expected every one fo contribute toward it, even this squat, shabby, defiant old body standing S3mmsly out in the middle of the road. rg'ret Poole had stopped unwillingly wo exchange courtesies with Mrs. Luther Ely, She looked aggressive. She eyed with a sidewise glance the other woman's pink, smirking face. ‘“ "Taint likely we be,” she said, in a voice which age bad made groff instead of piping. Then she took a step forward. ‘Well, we ain't goin’ to do mneh,’’ con- tinued Mrs. Ely, with an air of subdued loftiness. ‘‘We air jest goin’ to heva little Christmas tree for the children. Flora's goin’ to pit a few things. She says there's a very nice 'sortment up to White's,’ Marg'ret gave a kind of affirmative grunt; then she tried to move on, but Mrs. Ely would not let her. “I dun know as you have noticed our new curtaine,’’ said she. Had she not! Poor Marg’ret Poole, who bad only green paper shades in her own windows, kad peeped slyly around the cor- ner of one, and watched mournfally, though not enviously, her opposite neigh- bor tacking up those elegans Nottingham- lace draperies, and finally tying them back with hows of red ribbon. Marg'ret would have given much to have scouted scornfully the idea, but she was an honest old woman, if not a aweet one. *‘Yes I see 'em,"’ said she, shortly. “‘Don’t vou think they're prests?"’ “Well 'nough,” replied Marg'res with another honest rigor. “They cost consider’ble. I told Flora I thought she was kind of extravagant; hus then Sam's airnin’ pretty good wages. I dun know but they may jest as well have things. Them white cotton curtains looked dreadful kind of gone hy.” Marg’ret thought of her green paper ones. She did not hate this other old wo- man; she as once admired and despised her; and this admiration of one whom she deepis- ed made her angry with herself and ashamed. She was never at her ease with Mrs. Luther Ely. Mrs. Ely bad run ont of her house on purpose to intercept her and impress her with her latest grandeur—the cartains and the Christmas tree. She was sure of it. Still she looked with fine appreciation at the other's delivate pinky face, her lace ca adorued with purple ribbons, her hlac gown with a flonnee around the bottom. The gown was rusty, but Marg’ret did not notice that; her own was only a chocolate calico. Black wool of an afternoon was sumptuous to her. She thought how gen. teel she Jooked in it. Mrs. Ely still retain- ed her slim, long: waisted effect. Marg'res had lost every sign of youthful grace; she was solidly square and stout. Mrs. Ely had run out, in her baste, without a shawl; indeed, the weather was almost warm enongh to go without one. It ‘vas only a week before Christmas, hut there was no snow, and the grass was quite bright in places. There were green lights over in the field, and also in the house yards. There was a soft dampness in the air, which hronght spring to mind. It al- most seemed as if ove, by listening intent. ly, might hear frogs or bluehirds, Now Margret stepped resolutely across the street to her little house, which was shingled, but not painted, except on the front. Some one had painted that red many years hefore, Mis. Ely, standing before her glossy white cottage, which bad even a neas little ‘hood over its front door, cried, patronizing- ly, after her once again: “I'm comin’ over to ree you as soon as I can,’’ said she, “‘arter Christmas. We air dretful busy now.”’ ‘Well come when ye can,” Marg’ret re- sponded, shortly. Then she entered be- tween the dry lilac bushes, and shut the door with a bang. Even out in the yard she had heard a shrill clamor of children’s voices from the house; when she stood in the little entry it was deafening. “Them children is raisin’ Cain,” mut. tered she. Then she threw open the door of the room where they were. There were three of them in a little group vear the window. Their round yellow bob. bed, their fas little legs and arms swoog wildly. “Granny ! granny !"’ shouted * For the land sake, don’t make such a rackes ! Mis’ Ely can hear you over to her house,”” said Marg'ret. *““Untie us. Ain't ye goin’ to untie us now, Say, Granny.” “I'll untie ve jest as soon as Ican get my things off. Stop holleiin.” In the ceiling were f(ixed three stout hooks. A strong ro) was tied around each child’s waist, and the two ends fasten- ed secnrely around a hook. The ropes were long enough to allow the children free range of the room, but they kept them just short of one dangerous point—the stove. The stove was the fiery dragon which baunted Marg'ret’s life. Mauy a night did she dreain that one of those little cotton petticoats had whisked too near it, and the flames were roaring up aronnd a little yel- low head. Many a day, when away from home, the same dreadful pictures had loom- ed out hefore her eyes; her lively fancy had untied these stout knots, and she had hur- ried home in a panie. Marg'ret took off her hood and shawl, hung them carefully in the salty, and dragged a wooden chair under a hook. She was a short woman, and she bad to stretch np on her tiptoes to untie those bard knots. Her face tarned purplish red. This method of restriction was the result of long thought and study on her part. She bad tried many others, which had proved ineffectual. Willy, the eldest, could mas- ter knots like a #ailor. Many a time the grandmother bad returned to find the house empty. Willy had unfastened his own knot and liberated, his little sisters, and then all three bad msde the most of their freedom. Bat even Willy, with his sharp H-year-old brain and his nimble little fingers, could not untie a knot whose two ends broshed the ceiling. Now Marg’ret was sure to find them all where she left them, After the children were set at liherty she got their supper, arranging it neatly on the table between the windows, There was a nice white table cover, and the six silver teaspoons shone. The teaspoons were the mark of a floodtide of Marg’ret’s aspira- tions, and she had bad aspirations all her life. She had given them to her daughter, the children’s mother, on her marriage. She herself had never owned a hit of silver, but she determined to present her daugh- ter with some. “I'm goin’ to have ou have things like other folks,’’ she had said. Now the daughter was dead, and she had the spoons. She regarded the daily nse of them as an almost sinfal loxury, bat she brought them out in their heavy glass tumbler every meal. “I'm goin’ to have them children learn to eat off silver spoons,’’ she said,defiantly, to ther father ; ‘‘they’ll think more of themselves.” The father, Joseph Snow, was trying to earn a living in the city, a hundred miles distant. He was himself very young, and bad not hitherto displayed much business capacity, although he was good and willing. They bad been very poor before his wile died ; ever since he had not been able to do much more than feed and clothe himself. He bad sent a few dollars to Marg'ret from time to time—dollars which he had saved and serimped pitifully to acoumulate—but he burden of their support had corse upon er. She bad sewed carpets and assisted in spring cleanings—everything to which she could turn a band. Marg'iet was a tailor- ess, but #he could now get no employment at her trade. The boysall wore ‘‘store clothes’ in these days. She could only pick up a few cents at a time; still she managed to keep the children in comfort, with a roof over their heads and something to ent. Their cheeks were fat and pink ; they were noisy and happy,and also pretty. Alter the children were in bed that night she stood in her kitchen window and gazed acro<s at Mrs, Luther Ely’ house. She bad left the candle in the chiliren’s room —the little things were afraid without it— and «he had not yet lighted one for herself; so she could see out guite plainly,although the night was dark. There was a light in the parlor of the opposite house ; the Nut- tingham lace curtains showed finely their pattern of leaves and flowers. Marg'ret eyed them. **'Tain’t no use wy tryin’ to git up a noteh,”” she muttered. ** "Tain’s no use for some folks. They ain't worked no harder than I have ; Louisa Ely ain’s never hegun to work so bard ; hus they can bave lace curtaivs an’ Christias trees.’* The Nord. a mi. Still she was hardly that; su uent events prov it. Her “trying to git wa noteh’’ ex- plained everything. Mrs. Lather Ely, the lace curtains, and the Christmas tree were as three stars get on that higher ‘‘notch” which she wished to gain. If the other woman had dressed in silk instead of rust, wool, if the lace fisspetien had been s Marg'ret would bardly have wasted ove wistful glance on them. Bat Mrs. Luther Ely bad been all her life the one notoh higher, whioh had seemed almost attain. able. In that opposite house there was only one carpet. Mis. Ely’s son-in-law earned only a comfortable living for his family; Marg’ret’s might have done that. Worst of all, each woman had one dangh- ter, and Marg’ret’s had died. Marg'ret had heen ambitions all her life. She bad made struggle alter struggle. The tailoress trade was one of them. She made up her mind that she wonld have things like other penple. Then she married, and her husband epent her money. One failure came after another. She slipped back again and again on the step of that higher votoh. And here she was tonight, old and poor, with these three helpless children depend- ent upon her. Bat she felt something besides disappoint- = dabition as she stood gazing out to- night. *‘There’s the obhildren,” she went on ; ‘“‘can’t have nuthin’ for Christmas. Iain’ got a cent I can spare. If I gis "em enough to eat, I'm lucky.” . Presently she turned away and Niguted a lamp. She had some sewing to do for the children, and was just sitting down with it, when she pansed suddenly and stood re: fleoting. . ‘I've got a mind to go down to White's an’ see what he’s got in for Christmas,’ said she. ‘“‘Mebbe Joseph ’ll send some money 'long next week, an’ if he does, mebbe I can git ’em some little thing. Is wonld be a good plan for me to kind of price em.” Marg'res laid ber work down, got her hood and shawl, and went ont, fastening the house securely, and also the door of the room where the stove was. To her eyes the village store which she ntly entered was a very emporium of uty pod richness. he stored at the festoons of evergreens, angling trump- ets and drums, the counters h with Sheap toys, with awe and | ng. asked respectfully the price of this and that, some things less Jratencions than the gba. Bat is ave ried 4 ber. She might as we! ve bronzes. As she looking. sniffing 1 the odor of evergeen, and new varnish, which was to her a very mas, arising from its ful merriment. Flora Trask, Mrs. Ely’s daugh- Marg’ret went out quickly. “She'll see I ain’s bayin’ anything,” she thought to herseil. Bat Marg’ret Poole came again the next day, and the next, and the next—morning, afternoon and evening. I may want to buy some things hy-an'-by," proprietor, apologetically, ‘‘an’ I thought I'd kind of like to price She stood ahout, eying, questioning, and No money-letter came from Joseph. She inquired anxiously at the post-office many times a day. She tried to get work to raise a little extra mooey, but she could ges none at this time of the She visited Mrs, White, the store- keeper's wife, and asked with forlorn hope if she bad no tailor-work for her. were four boys in that family. Bos Mre. White shook her head. She was a good “I'm sorry,” said she, ‘‘but I The boys won't wear pettumset Christ ness of peace and “I dan know bot fingering tenderly. haven’s got a mite. “mm 'maginin’ it,’ mottered she. She would not turn over to look at the win- dow. Finally she did. Then she sprang, and rushed toward it. The house where Mrs. Luther Ely lived was on fire. Marg'ret threw a quils over her head, unholted her front door, and flew. “Fue! fire!” she velled. “Fue! fire! Sam—S8am Trask, you're all burnin’ up! Floa! Ob! fire! fire!” By the time she got oat in the road she saw hlack gronps moving in the distance, Hoarse shouts followed her cries. Then the church bell clanged out. Flora was standing in the road, holding on to her children. They were all erying. “Oh, Mis’ Poole!” sobbed she, ‘‘ain’s it dreadful? ain’e it awful?’ ‘Have you got the children all om?” asked Marg'ret, “Yea Sam told me to Stand here with ‘em.’ “Where's vour mother?” “I don’t know. She's safe. She waked ap first.’’ The young woman rolled her wild eyes toward the barning house, home-made clothes. ”’ She looked pitifully at Marg'ret’s set, disappointed face when she went out. Finally those animals of sugar and wood, straight bodied dolls, those tin trumpets and express wagons, were to Marg’ret as the fair apples hanging over the garden wall were to Christiana’s | sons in the Pilgrim's Progress. She wazed | and gazed, until at lass the sight and the smell of them were too mnch for her. The evening before Chirstmas she went up to the post-office. The last mail was in, and there was no letter for her. she kept 0.4 to the store. early, and there were not as vet many cus- tomers. Marg’ret hegan looking ahout as She might have been in the store ten minutes when she suddenly noticed a parcel on the corner of the counter. It belonged evidently to one of the persons who were then trading in the store or was to be delivered outside later. Mr. White was not in; two of his sons and a hoy clerk were waiting upon the cns- those pink-faced, It was rather Marg'ret, once attracted by this parcel, counld not take her eyes from it long. She red over the other wares with many side- ong glances at it. Her thoughts centred upon it, and her imagination. be in 1? To whom conld it belong? Marg'ret Poole bad always been an honest woman. She had never takena thing which did not belong to her in her whole life. She suddenly experienced a complete moral revulsion. principles, whose weights were made shifty by her long watching and lon, ing, had sud- denly gyrated io a wild somersanlt. While they were reversed, Marg'ret, warily glan- cing around, slipped that parcel under her arm, opened the door and sped It was better Christmas weather than it There was now a It was as if her had heen a week ago. fine level of snow, and the air was olear and cold. Marg’ret patted as she walked. The snow creaked under her feet. She met many people hurryinglalong in chat- She wondered if they could reel under her shawl. quite a large one, When she got into her own house she hastened to strike a light. Then she un- were in it some pink sogar cats and birds, two tin horses and a little wagon, a cheap doll, and some eis pioture-hooks, besides a paper of tering groups. tied the parcel. “My bond mia Marg’ret ‘‘won’s they There wasa violent nervous shivering all over her stont frame. “Why can’t I keep still?" said she. e got out three of the children’s stock- ing’s, filled them, and bung them up be- e the chimney. Then she drew a chair before the stove, and went over to the hu- rean to get her Bible: she always read a chapter before she went to bed. Marg’ret was not a church member, she never said anything about it, but she had a presistens, reticent sort of religion. She took up the Bible; then laid it down;then she took it up again with a clutch. I don’t care,’’ said she, "I ain’t done nothin’ so terrible out of the way. can’t be airned, when anybody’s willin’ to 'm goin’ to wait ristmas; then I'm jest goin’ up goin a0 meg Mie Whiter supe; ‘ho doy n' to say, te,” says I, ‘the day before Christmas I went into your hus- band’s store, an’ I see a bundle a-layin’ on the counter, an’ I took it, ht to be took. an’ said nothin’ Ishouldn’t ha’ done sucha thing if you'd give me work, the way asked you to, instead of goin’ outside an’ | acti buyin’ things for your boys, an’ robbin’ honest folks of the chance to ain. Mis’ White, I'll tell you jest what I'm willin’ to do; you give me somethin’ to do an’ I'll work out twice the price of them things I took, an’ we'll call it even. If you don’t, all is your husband will have to I wonder what she'll say to Marg'ret said all this with her head thrown back, in a tone of indescribable deflance. Then she sat down with her Bible and read a chapter. The next day she watched the children’s delight over their presents with a sort of grim pleasure. She charged them to say nothing abont them, although there was little need of it. Marg'ret had few visitors, and the children fore never allowed to run into the neigh- Two days after Christmas the postmaster at Marg’ret’s house; his own was was just beyond. He banded a letter to her. ‘‘This came Christmas morning,” eaid he. *‘I thought I'd bring italong on my way heme. I knew you badn’t been in for two or three days, and I thought youn were expecting a let- “Thank ye,’’ said Marg’ret. She pulled the letter open, and saw there was some money iu it. She turned very white. ive you ain't got any bad news,” ain't.” After he had gone she sat down and read ber Jetter with her knees shaking. Soow had at last got a good situa: e was earning fifty dollars a month, There were twenty dollars in the letter. He promised to send her that sum every “Five dollars a week!” gasped Mar- “My land! An’ I've—stole!”’ She sat there looking at the mon quite late; the oh had been in bed a long time. Finally she away the money, and went herself. did not read in her Bible that night. She could not go to sleep. It was bitter- ly cold. The old timbers of the house cracked. Now and then there was a sharp report like a pistol. There was a pond near great crashes came from that. from the noise, e, to which her own guilt bad exposed her. *‘ *Tain’t nothin’ but the frost,” she her lap. It was She | in the midst of a cann “There she is!" cried she. | Mis. Ely was running out of the front door with a box in her hand. Her son-in- "law staggered after her with a table on his | shoulder. i “Don't you go in again, mother," sail he. There were other men helping to carry out the goods, and they chimed in. “No,” cried they; ** ‘taint safe. Don’t yon go in again again, Mis’ Eiv”’ Margret ran up to her. “Them oar- taina,”’ an’ the parlor carpet, have they got them ont?" “Oh, I dan know—I dun know! I'm afraid they ain’t. Oh, they ain't got uoth- in’ out! Everything all bumnin’ up! Oh, dear me! oh, dear! Where be you goin?" Marg'res had rushed past her into the house. She was going into the parlor, when a man caoght hold of her. ‘Where are you goin?’ he shouted. ‘‘Clear out of this.” “I'm a goin’ to get out them lace car- tains an the carpes.’’ “It ain’t any use. We stayed in there just as long as we could, trying to get the carpet up; but we couldn’s stand is avy | E longer; it’s chook full of smoke.” The man shouted it out, and pulled her along with him at the same time. **There!"’ said he, when they wereout in the rvad; “look at that.” There was a flicker of golden fire in one of the parlor windows. Then those lace curtains blazed. “There!” said the man again: “I told you it wasn’t any uxe Marg'ret turned on him. There were many other men within hearing. ‘Well, I wouldn’s tell of 1,” said she, ina loud voice. “If I was a peck of stout. able- bodied men, and couldn’s ha’ gos out them curtains an’ that carpet afore they burnt ap. [ wounldn’s tell of it.” Flora and the children bad heen taken into one of the neighboring houses. Mrs. Ely still stood out in the freezing air, clatohing her box and wailing. Her ron- in-law was trying hard to persuade her to go into the house where her danghter was. Marg'res joined them. “I would go if I was you, Mis’ Ely,” sid she. *‘No, I ain't goin’. I don’t care where I be. I'll stay right here in the toad. Ob, dear me!” *‘Don’s take on so." “‘I ain’t got a thing left but jest my hest cap here. I did get that ont. Oh, fear! oh, dear! everything's hurnt up har jess this cap. It's all I've got lefs. I'il jess put it on an’ ser right down here in the road an’ freeze to death. Nobody ’ll care. Ob, dear! dear! dear!” “Oh, don’t, Mis’ Ely." Marg'ret, almost rigid herself with the cold, pat her hand on the other woman's arm. Just then the roof of the burning house fell in. There was a shrill wail from the spectators. **Do come, mother,” Sam higged when they »tood staring for a moment. “Yee, do go, Mis’ Ely,” said Marg'et. “Yon mustn’s feel so.” “It’s easy 'nongh to talk,’ eaid Mrs. Ely. ** *Tain’t your house; an’ if ‘twas, ou wouldn't bad much to lose—nothin’ Pat a passel of old wooden cheers an’ tables. “I know it,’ said Marg'iet. Finally Mis. Ely was started, and Marg’- res hurried home. She thought suddenly of the children and the money. But the children had not waked in all the tamuls, and the money was where she had lefs it. She did not go to bed again, but sat over the kitchen stove thinking, with her el- bows on her knees, until morning. When morning came she bad laid ont one plan of on. That afternoon she took some of her money, wens up to Mr. White's store, and hought some Nottingham-lace curtains like the ones her neighbois had lost. They were off the same piece. That evening she went to oall on Mis. Ely, and presented them. She had tried to think that she might send the parcel anon’ ymously—leave it on the doorstep; bat she conid not. “ “T'won’s mortily me 80 much as ‘twill the other way,” said she, *‘an’ I'd ought to he mortified.” ‘So she carried the curtains, and met with a semblance of gratitude and a reality of amazement and incredulity which sham- ed her beyond measure. After she got home that night she took up the Bible, then laid it down. ‘‘Here I’ve been takin’ and woiryin’ about get- tin’ up a higher notoh,”” said she, ‘‘an’ kind of despisin’ Mis' Ely when [ see her on one. ‘Mis’ Ely wouldn't bave stole. I ain't nothin’ side of her new, an’ I never can be.” The scheme which Marg’ret had laid to confront Mrs. White was never carried out. Her defiant spirit had failed her. One day she was there and begged for work again. “I'm willing to do most any- thin’ ,”’ said she. *'I'll come an’ do your washin’* or anything, an’ Idon’t want no 1" Mrs. White was going jaway the next day, and she bad no work to give the old woman; but she offered ker sowe foel and some money. Marg’ret looked at her scornfally. “I've got money enough, thank ye,” said she. **My son sends me five dollars a week." The other woman stared at Lier with amazement. She told her hushand that night that she believed Marg'ret Poole was getting a little nusettled. She did not know what to make of her. Not long after that Marg’ret went into Mr. White's store, and alyly laid some money ou the counter. She knew it to be énongh to cover the cost of the articles she had stolen. Then she went away and left it there. That night she went after her Bible. “I declare I will read it tomight,”’ muttered she. ‘I've paid for em.” She stood eying it. Suddenly she began to ery. “Ob, dear !" she groaved; ‘I can’t. There don’t anything do any good—the lace curtains, nor payin, for 'em, nor nothin’, Idon’t koow what I ghall do.” She looked at the clock. It wasabout pine. ‘‘He won’t be et,” said she. to herself, Soham thie aso jie say a red glow She stood motionless, thinking. I'm i goin’ to-night, I've got to,” she muttered. Still she did nos start for a while longer. When she did, there was no hesitation. No argument could have stopped Marg’ret Poole, in her old hood or shawi, pushing ap the road, fairly started on her line of duty. When she got to the store she went in directly, The heavy door slammed to, and the glass panels clattered. Mr. White was alour in the store. He was packing np some goods preparatory to closing. Marg’ ret went stiaighs up to him, and laid a packag. before him on the countor. “I brought these things back,” «aid she; “they belong to you.” “Why, what is it!” said Mr. White, wondeiingly. “Some things I stole last Christmas for the children. What!’ “I stole em.” She antied the parcel, and began taking ont the things one by one, “They're all here bat the candy,” «he said; ‘the ohil- dren ate that up; an’ Aggie hit the head «ff this pink cas the other day. Then they've jammed this little horse consider’ble. Bat [ brought "em all hack." Mr. White was an elderly, kind-faced man. He seemed slowly paling with amazement as he stared as her and the ar- ticles she was displaying. *“You say you stole them ?"’ said he. “Yes; | stole 'em.” “When ?" “*The night alore Christmas." “Didn't Henry give 'em to you!” **No.” “Why, I told him to,”’ said Mr. White, slowly. *‘I did the thing« up for you my- self thas afternoon. I'd seen yon looking kind of wishful, you know, and I thought I'd make yon a present of them. I left the bundle on the counter when I went to sup- | gy per, and told Henry to tell you to take it, and I supposed he did.” Marg’ret stood staring. Her mouth was open, her hands were clinched. *‘I dun know—what yon mean,” she gasped out at length, *‘I mean you ain't been stealing as much a= vou thought you had,’’ said Mr. White. “Yon jst took your own buodle.”’—Mary . Wilkens . No Business, *‘Yon have no business in politics.” Thus spoke the Dictator angrily. “I know I haven't,” «aid the Rich Young Candidate. *'I do not own a street rail. way or an insurance company or a food trust or anything like that. Having no haosiness in polities, I feel all the better fitted to he a faithful public rervant.’’ THE LITTLE CHRIST, Mother, I am thy little Son-— Why weepest thou? Hush! tor I see un crown of thorns, A bleeding brow. Mother, Iam thy little Son— Why dost thon sigh? Hush! for the shadow of the years Stoopeth more nigh! Mother, Iam tny little Son— 0, smile on me, The birds sing blithe, the birds sing gay, The leaf langhs on the tree, QO, hush thee! The leaves do shiver sore That tree whereon they grow, I see it hewn, and bound to bear The weight lof human woe! Mother, | am thy little Son— . ‘The Night comes on apace— When all God's waiting stars shall smile On me in thy embrace, 0, huxh thee! [ ree black, starless night! 0, conld’st thou slip away Now, by the hawthorn hedge of Death— And get to God by Day! By Lavea Seexcen Portes, John Etters and wife returned from Dewart Friday. Monday brought us rain and Tuesday frost and colder weather. Rev. Spavely will hold services at this place Sunday afternoon. John Barton, of Pittsburg, visited among friends in Oak Hall: last week. Mrs. Mary Williams and Mrs. Maggie Longwell returned to Philipsburg Saturday Rev. Joseph Miller has been visiting among friends at Houserville the past few weeks. A. J. Tate, of Dale Summit, is quite ill at present with heart trouble, and not expected to live. Philip Bradford was in Pittsburg Friday te attend gn annual sxamination of railroad employees, Harry Wagner is reported to have sold his farm and stock to a young man from Pitts- burg, this last week. Rev. William Groh, who was the minister at Houserville about eighteen years ago, preached to that congregation on Sunday forenvou and all were pleased to have him in their midst again. Nathan Grove killed three hogs that dress. ed 1200 pounds ; H. K. Hoy one that dressed 415 pounds and Joseph Edminston three that dressed almost 1200 pounds, these being the heaviest ones in this neighborhood up to date. Spring Mills, Welhiave had zero weather in this valley of late. Apparently winter has commenced in earnest. Turkeys seem very plentiful, evidently there will be no scarcity of the bird for Christmas dinner. The officers and teachers of our Sunday schools are making preparations for the usual holiday entertainments. 0 The ice houses about town are being put in order to receive the usual crop, which may be expected now most any time. John Snavely is putting down & very sub- stantial road of crushed stone from his barn to the main road, a very decided improve. ment. Last week a purse containing a sum of money was found at the railroad station, The owner can have same by applying to the agent and proving property. Cousiderable butchering was done here last week. It seemed as if about every third family was engaged in the business. Of course sausages, liverwurst and scrappel are plentiful. What has become of the Shakespearian club we had here a year ago? It wasa very select organization and several of the mem. bers were excellent readers, displaying his- trionic abilities of a high orde1? They should never disband. sins. - ee — oF —— i — FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN, DAILY THOUGHT. What rules theworld ? Is t might? What rules the world ? Is it love ? I= it hunger that drives ? Is it wit that thrives? Shall suhtiety triumph or right? : Hunger drives and gumption thrives, and sub- tlety's envy's glove, But knowledge and truth shall drive ruth. And love, in the end, is might, —E. 8, MagTix, Jack Horner pies have long heen interest- ing features of children’s parties. but nos until this season have giown folks hatked back to Mother Goose for Christmas inspi- rations, The four-and-twenty blackbirds of melodious memory may bave had as much to do with the Christmas pie as Jack Horn- er, but the caterers who furnish these mam- moth delicacies do not t2ll the source from which strange novelties spring. The new Christmas pie is as large as ove of those round tin tabs which clean Britons always travel with, and just about as graceful. Sometimes it is decorated with sugar plums or a wieath of holly, or “A Merry Christ- mas’’ in icing, buat its chief characteristic is size, It ix not always made of crust, papier- mache is the most satisfactory ingredient— but a thin layer of crust, which can be chipped off in small bits to allow the ex- pectant guests to ‘‘taste the pastry,” adds to the fun—and the expense—of the pie cutting performance. Of course, these huge pies have a mission (and one that Santa Claus ought to resent), and usually con- tain the family Christmas presents, or the servants’ presents only, or those of the heads of the house to the children, or those intended for every member of a house par- One of these pies, made for a mother of a family, whose home was very nearly swept away last year by a Christmas tree fire, is to contain all the gifts which in other years have hung on a tree for the children and their party guests. A very elaborate ver- sion of a Christmas pie is made so that the top crust can setually be cut in slices, not lifsed off, cover fashion, each slice being a box filled with smaller hoxes containing the gifts. A pretty gift for grandma, if she has at- tained the distinction long enough ago to be an old lady, is a muff foot stool. This is one of the ordinary Jow wicker foot stools covered with eiderdown flannel in black, or gray. The top of the stool has a thickness of cotton wadding laid on before the flannel is fitted, and a muff or hood of the same lined with bright sofs silk nailed on. A short fringe of wool matching in color edges the stool covering. Artificial holly branches at 18 cents for three are wonderfully made and in great demand for house party decorations among the guests to make coiffares for the women and bontonnieres for the men. The real holly is reserved for house decorations. Mistletoe, in the same way and at the same price, has a large sale. The girls who delight in hastening the coming of Christmas by keeping busy with holiday preparations—and the boys, too, for that watter— will find the preparation of snowball for tree ornaments ‘‘easy to make,” and they will prove quite an ad/'i- tion to the tree at little expense. Ther are the directions to give the youugesters if they would have the balls perfectiy round, flufly and shapely : One sheet of tissue paper is ail that is re- quired to fashion a modest-sized soow ball. Take your sheet and fold in six or eight thicknesses, lay the pattern circle cut from stiff paper upon this, being oare- fal to stick a pin exactly in the centre, vo that there may be no mistake in measure- mens. Now trace about the edge of your | pattern with a pencil, then cnt out six or more rounds at once. Now cut from 10 to 14 slits about the edge dividing the rounds nearly to the centre in separate sections. Round off each separate petal and twist them into shells by placing the section he- tween the thumb and fioger of the right hand. Tarn with care, so that the paper is twisted once around. When all have been shaped in this man- ner they are ready for the florist’s wire, which, with the aid of a pair of pincers, is twisted into a spiral for the stem, the end knotted or lopped. Slip all the’petals off the pin onto the wire. The first four or five must he pressed up against the wire, and the others slipped on afterward. When all are in place, press together closely, to form a round ball, twisting a piece of wire aboat the last to hold them firmly. A vomber of these fluffy balls, hung back among the green branches of the tree, are very decorative ‘‘fillers,”’ with their gleam of white; and when hung away in a dust-proof closet they can be made to serve for a second year. If you will take a five-minute rest once or twice daring your day’s shopping you won't be a wreck at night. All she big shops are provided with lounging rooms now, and a rest on a sola or in a big chair, with the eyes closed and mind as free as pos«ible from care and worry—forget for the time the number of things yon bave baoaght or mean to buy—will go a won- drous way toward keeping the weary shop- per in good trim for the work that lies be- fore her. Few understand, except those who have had to resort to these ‘five-minute bracers’ in order to keep up during a tedious con- valescence, how much elasticity of figure is unconsciously acquired if the body ie given perindio rests during the day. The calt of the five-minute resters is gaining disciples among women whose social duties are quite as wearing a* those grimier ones of the kitchen slave or the workiog housewife, avd the fad is such a wholesome one that the git] who wishes to keep ber freshness and save her strength for congenial work will do well to adopt it. In order to de- rive the greatest benefit from » five min- utes’ rest, one must relax all the muscles of the hody—and the mind, if possible. Be a limp, inert, lazy bundle for a brief spell. Shut the eyes, let the shoulders and hands d relieve all tension which dignity usually demands, and try not to think for three hundred seconds. The most important thing to be consider- ed in choosing gifts ie that they be appro- priate. Common sense and tact are needed as well as taste and money in choosing gifts well. Don’t send a silver card case to a hard-working farmer's wile, a set of ivory chessmen to a recipient whose knowl- edge of the game is confined to its name, a statuette of the Milo Venus to her who bas no suitable niche for its beautiful self, a band kerchief case to the bachelor man who wants his havdkerchiefs where he can grab them in a hurry, slippers to the min- ister who might he a centipede from the multitade of pedal coverings showered up- on him, or a cigarette case to the man who regards smoking as one of the seven deadly
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers