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i
Bellefonte, Pa., December 24, 1909.
THE CHRISTMAS- TREE WOOD.
Ho, little fellow, if you will be good
Same day you may go to the Chrisumas-Tree
Wood.
It lies to the north of the Country of Dreams,
It glitters and tinkles and sparkles and gleams ;
For tinsel and trinkets grow thick on the trees,
Where wonderful toy= sre for him who will seize,
You go by the way of the Road of Be-Good
Whenever you go to the Christmas-Tree Wood,
And when you draw near you will notice the
walls
That rise high about the fair City of Dolls,
Whose entrance, unless you are wanted; is barred
By Tin-Soldier regiments standing on guard.
It's over in Candy Land, there where the shops
Forever are turning out peppermint drops ;
‘Where fences are built of the red-and-white sticks
And houses are fashioned of chocolate bricks,
Where meadow and forest and sidewalk and
street
Are all of materials children can eat,
You sail on a ship over Lemonade Lake
And drink all the waves as they quiver and break,
And then, when you land, you are noder the trees
Where Jumping Jacks jump in the sway of the
breeze—
But only the children most awfully good
Can ever go into the Christmas-Tree Wood.
—From “The Land of Make-Believe,”
By Wilbur Nesbit, issued by Harper & Bros.
THE CHRISTMAS GUEST.
““The Cresslysare due today, I sup, ”
said James Randal, as he took his at
the immacalate breaklass-table opposite
his no less immaculate sister whose patri-
cian face looked exactly like the pale, old-
fashioned miniatures on the Sevres coffee-
eup beside her.
“No, I didn’t ask them this year,”” Mise
Mattie anawered. ‘‘The boys are Srowink
#0 big and noisy avd they worry oats
80.” As she spoke she glanced down ata
beautiful Avogora ca¢ thas basked in the
patoh of dim wintry sunlight straggling
through the window.
“I am afraid they will feel serionsly
disappointed,” James observed after a
slight paose during which he, too, had
looked speculatively at the dozing cat.
“I think not, James. I sent Halliea
substantial check instead of the invitation,
and thas will probably please the boys
more than the usoal visit here, besides
ng me a good deal of discomfort.”
“Don’t you think yon may be a little
lonely without them?’ James ventured
half apologetically.
Miss Mattie smiled dryly. ‘‘Not as all,”
she declared. ‘‘On the contrary, I sball
enjoy the quiet, for I really dislike the
domestis derangements that the Cresslys’
presence always creates. I su Hallie
isnot to blame for her slack upbringing,
but her children are certainly very trying
to the nerves. None of them are like the
Raodals in the very least.”
“I shall miss them,’’ said James, with
the ghost of a sigh.
Miss Mattie glanced sharply at ber
brother, in whom she bad once or Swice
detected signs of what she considered a
weakening of social principle. She had
surprised him in earnest conversation with
the little Bedells, of vagrant manners and
hybrid ancestors, who supplied old Jady
with vegeiables from their neighboring |
farm; and once when she had driven |
through the adjrining town where James
occupied a dim office in the connty court:
house, sbe had seen James actually engag-
ed in wiping the tear staived face of a lit. |
tle strayed urchin whom even Jady would
have scorned to touch.
“If you think yon will he lonely,
James,’? suid she, a little coldly, ‘you had
better ask Mr, Frayle over to play chess
with you tomorrow afternoon.’
“Very well,” said James in a tone that
implied no very great exhiliaration. Long
association with Miss Mattie had impress.
ed upon James's amiable character a pro-
found reserve that went well with his in-
nate dignity and =eparated him from the
easy, heedliess commoners among whom he
moved and worked like a royal alien. He
bad acquired the ceremonions habits of
his sister, which strictly maintained the
old regime of their youth in the midst of
a painfaliy antagonistio era. A= be glanced
aboat the handsome paneled diving -room
he noticed shat everthing was just as it had
been in his boyhood when bis heantifol
young mother bad unexpectedly tarned
ber back upon the life shat she loved.
leaving him avd his sister iu possession of
the old home and the still older traditions
of an illastrious family. Even their two
negro servants were unchanged except for
the impress of age; they still prided them-
selves loyally upon their affiliation with
‘“‘de Raundals uv Gawgia, sah,” and their
occupation of the fine old mansion that
bad miraculously escaped the ravages of
War.
* “Can I do anything in town for you,
Mattie?’ asked James as he thrusts bis
napkin into the massive silver ring that
had once graced the table of a peer.
“No, thavk you. I shall pass through
town this alternoon on my way to the Nar-
row-gauge depot where I am to meet the
Rosedale traio. Mrs. Gray bas invited a
lonely young theological student up for
the holidays, and as she is to be particalar-
ly busy she asked me to meet her guest in-
stead of helping her with the mission tree,
as [ bad offered to do. I believe the
student is a poor young man who is work-
ing his way through college.”
“Very commendable,’”’ said Jame: per-
functorily. “I am afraid we shall bave
stormy weather, after all. Well, good-bye,
Mattie.”
“Good-bye. Be careful not to get your
feet wet, James,”
After James had stamped down the front
steps io his heavy arotios Miss Mattie call-
ed old Judy into the dining-room to talk
over the day's work, and when that was
over with, Sambo was sent for and given
his day's orders—orders which accorded
with she aged groom's feeble strength.
Lastly, Miss Mattie douned apron acd cap
and employed herself industriously with a
feather duster, although she failed to dis-
enver anything that needed dusting. After
lanchece she made out her yearly dooa-
tions to she church aud the Woman's For-
eign Missionary Sosiety, to which all the
Randals had contributed since the birth of
the organization, long before war $imes.
There was a small donation for the county
poorhouse also, but nothing of a personal
nature, for the spirit of brotherly love bad
denarsed from th Hause of Randal, and
those four elderly, honest, refined people
lived as she Master had said that no man
shall live—to themselves alone.
That was the reason that Christmas had
lost ite worldwide meaning to Mies Mattie,
bat she did not realize it. Mistress and
i by a freight tram,
master and servants held themselves aloof
.
from the bustling life of the
young town that was not of the select old
stock from which the Randals sprang, in
the midst of which they existed like de-
pleted flowers whose has long
departed for want of nourishment.
As the afternoon wore on the sky dark.
ened and the raw obill of the morning
deepened to bitter cold, By four o'clock, her
when Mies Mattie seated herself in her old-
fashioned road-cart preparatory to driving
to the depot, a light snowfall added to the
dreariness of the gray day, and by the
time she reached the dail little station the
shades of a stormy twilight bad deepened
to dusk. The train rambled in noisily
while Miss Mattie waited on the nncover-
ed lorm for the young man she was to
w in Mrs. Gray’s place. He did not
appear, however. Two lombering farmers
alighted, followed by a woman who hurried
away with her head bowed against the
driving wind, and lastly a child of ten or
thereabout, very poorly and inenfliciently
dressed, clambered down the train steps
aud stood starig ahout in a bewildered,
utterly helpless fashion that attracted the
attention of the gruffly osheerfal station-
master
“You lookin’ for somebody?’’ he asked
good-naturedly.
“Yes, sir, I'm lookin’ for my pa,’ she
answered in a soared voice. ‘‘He wrote
for me to come and stay with him.”
“What's your pa’s name?"’
“Mr. John Baynes.”
The man dropped his handltul of brass
checks and stooped to pick them up before
he attem to ask farther questions.
When he finally looked at her his homely,
honest face was curiously perturbed.
‘What did yon say his name was?’ he
asked again, with elahorate carelessness.
“‘Mr. John Baynes.”
“‘Oh, yes, I rec’lect now. He worked
at the switch here a while, didn’s he? Well,
be’s gone off somewheres, bui I reckon
he'll be back soon if he expects yon. When
did he write for you to come?"
“Day 'tore yisterday. He said for me
to gis here by Christmas, sure. I’m goin’
to stay an keep house for kim righs along,”
said the little girl seriously.
“Oh, you are! You don’t look big
enough to do much of anything,’’ the sta-
tiocmaster observed, measuring ber size
and strength with troubled eyes.
“I ain’s very big, but I can work real
good,” the child assured him with a note
of pride. ‘‘Aunt Lindy learned me to do
"most everything so’s her girls could go to
school reg’lar.”’
“Oh, then you've kin-folks,”’ the
man exclaimed in a relieved voice.
“Jest Aunt Lindy’s all. I lived with
her two years, till I gos sick an’ she sent
me to the hospital. When I got well the
doctors told Aunt Liudy I'd bave to quit
workin’ and go to school, an’ Aunt Lindy
she sent me to the orphan 'sylum till pa
got his stiddy job bere au’ then he sent for
we.
*“That so !"’ The stationmaster took off
bis cap, rubbed his bead roughly as if
something troubled bim deeply. **Well,”
said he, ‘‘you go right in yonder an’ set
by the stove till I fiud ont when your pa
is comin’ back. I'll telegraph up the road
and see about it.”
The little gir! obeyed promptly, shiver-
ing as she went, for the ioy wind pierced
ber thin cotton sk’'rts like barbed arrows.
Miss Mattie, in costly fars, accosted the
statiouwaster in bebalf of Mrs. Gray's
guest, bus bad some difficulty in focusing
his wandering attention.
“Oh, yes, yes, a message did come lor
someone in town,” he recollected sudden-
ly. ‘“Party can’t leave!” That's what
the telegram said. I's done been sent to
Mis’ Gray. I was jest goin’ to ask your
opinion about that little tyke in yonder,”
be added in a lower voice. “‘A lady knows
how to handle onidren, an’ a man don’t.
She's come from the 'sylum to live with
her pa who got killed yesterday moroing
She's got to be toid
some time, of course, hut not now—such
news ain’s for a time like Christmas. If I
bad a home to take her bo, i'd keep her
over Christmas, but the place I board as
ain’s fit for children. Couldn’t you take
her home with yon ?"’
Miss Mattie drew back in mute refasal.
“Why I know nothing about the child.
She may be—"
“What difference does it make if you
don’t know her ?”’ the map broke in. “I
can’t send her back to the ’'sylam av’ it
Christmas ! An’ there ain't no down train
till mornin’, anyhow. Surely a lady like
yoursel! has got enough sympathy for a
poor little orphan to take care of her for
one night, an’ it Christmas, too !"’
“Certainly I am sorry for her,” Miss
Mattie answered, ‘‘but I dislike to take an
utter stranger into wy house, especially
one that may have heen exposed to all sorts
of contagion. Besides I disapprove of de-
ception such as you just now indulged in.”
‘You ain’s got the heart to tell her
aboat her pa, 20 sudden like, without a lis-
tle preparation, bave you? If you'd take
her bome an’ sorter mother her a little is
would be easier for her when she is told.”
“I'll take her home with me,’’ said Miss
Mattie abruptly, ‘‘hat will send her back
by my coachman the day after tomorrow.”
“By that time,” said the man, witha
gleam of hope, ‘‘something else may turn
up for the poor little tyke.” He hurried
to the waiting-room doorand called the
little girl out with an air of forced oheer-
falness that served its purpose well.
“I've found out that your pa can’t get
back right now,”’ he explained. “There's
some busivess keepin’ him ; but he wants
you to go howe with this bere lady, who is
a real good friend of his'n, an’ stay till he
sends yon word. [I'll let you know soon as
I hear from him."
Miss Mattie gave the speaker a look that
showed severe disapproval of his kindly
fabrication, but she took the little girl's
hue hand in hers and led her to the shed
where Sambo awaited her in liveried dig-
nity.
James Randal, who bad been rather
anxiously peering through thestormy dusk
from the library window, welcomed his
sister's return with old fashioned courtesy.
““A Christmas guest I’ he exclaimed in
surprise when he became aware of the
child’s shrinking presence.
*'Oh, no,”” Miss Mattie answered gravely;
“merely a wail who found no one to wel-
come her at the station. Judy can take
her in charge. She is to be sent back the
day after tomorrow.”
“She looks very lonely,’”’ James remark-
ed sympathetically, as the door closed be-
hind Judy and the silent child. ‘‘Don’t
you think we ought to have her dine with
Bs Mattie ? Isis Christmas Eve, yon
now.
“Certainly not,” Miss Mattie answered
emphatically. ‘Why, the child is a waif
of the commonest class! Her father was a
switchman, and ehe bad jast come from an
asylam where she may have been exposed
to all sorts of diseases. Besides, it is easy
to see that she hasn’t been accustomed to
anythiog better than kitchen comfors.”
‘Even 80,”” said James, ‘‘the occasion
calls for every indulgence, does it not?”
“Iam sure Judy will see that she ie
Miss Mattie related, briefly, the ocourence
at the station in which James exhibited a
profound interest. He asked anxiously
whether Judy bad heen instructed to treat
ly well, and was told, by
Judy herself, that she child would be at-
tended to in due time, *‘after you-all gis
waited on.”
*“When she is ready for bed, Judy, you
may put her in the little room next to
yours. Please see that she is well sup-
plied with covering, for it is a cold night.”
Judy accidentally left the dining-room
door ajar when she withdrew, and neither
Miss Mattie nor James noticed the fact un-
til they heard a stranger’s voice in the
kitohen—the voice of a young man who
bad brought in a late consignment of ex-
essage. He was talking to Jody ina
oud but pleasant voice that carried dis.
tinotly to the dining-room.
*‘Got Christmas company, I ses, Judy,”
eaid he cheerily.
Judy explained with characteristic
brevity.
“Why, she must bs Jobn Baynes’s little
tyke.” eaid the young map with heédless
impetuosity. ‘Say, listle girl, didn’t they
tell you your pa got killed yesterday ?"’
For one intensely still moment the lis-
teners waited with indrawn hreath, then a
piercingly clear little voice oried out in
sudden jo: “Oh, no. no! Pa ain’
killed ! I know he ain’s !”’
James rose and stumbled toward the
door, but before he had reached it the
expressman had told little Mary the brotal
truth. She stood staring at him with eyes
full of incredulous pain, her pretty, child.
ish face as pale a= svow and ber hands
olinched in front of her in an attitude of
intense rigidity, when James crossed the
threshold and harried toward ber. Her
glance swerved to his face with a sodden
agonized appeal.
“Ob, eay it ain’t true about my pa!"
she implored. ‘‘Say he ain’s dead ! Say is
James Randal drew a deep breath that
seemed to sweep inward with a strange
warmth that melted the long-frozen foun-
tain of emotion, and dropping to his knees
he drew the little, rigid, trembling form
into his arms. ‘*‘My dear little gitl, it is
trae,”’ he said in a voice of infinite pity.
**Your father is dead. Oh, how sorry we
all feel ! There, don’t try to keep from
orying, bus have it ous. Cry, poor little
girl, and bave the worst over with, if you
can.”
And Mary cried. Oh, how she oried!
Till the deep fountain of tears was exhaust:
ed and her frail strength worn away ; and
all the while James Randal held her to his
heart while the tears trickled down his
cheeks on her brown curls. Judy, leaning
weakly against the wall, cried too, ina
choking, spasmodic way as if the unacous-
tomed emotion taxed her strength fearfully.
Miss Mastie stood in the doorway, white
and silent, with a strange light in her dark,
bright eyes, and the blundering express.
man looked on in profound self-abasement.
“It I didn’t go an’ do is this time,” he
said over and over in a mumbling whisper.
By and bye James gently unclasped
Mary's rigid arms and rose. He laid his
baud on the drooping brown head beside
him aud looked straight into his sister's
expectant eyes. ‘‘Mattie,”’ said be, ‘‘our
home is to be this child's home as long as
I am able to provide a living forher. Yon
will try to take a mother’s part by her,
will you not ?"’
Miss Mattie dropped weakly into a near-
by chair, for the magnitude of her broth.
er'sact appalled her, althoogh it did nos
anger her. When James led little Mary to
his sister's side she took the hot, tremb.
ling. plebeian hand in her own delicate
palm and said, very kindly : “We are go-
ing to be as fond of you as possible, and [
hope you will be happy with us. Don’t
ery any more, please, Mary.”
But Mary's grief was too deep to be as-
soaged at once, yet she could vot help hut
respond to the consolation of kindness that
bad suddeuly descended upon her from all
sides. Sne sat still and tearfal heside Miss
Mattie while James and Judy and Samho
vied with each other in fittle comforting
services, and bye and bye tired nature
brought the balm of sleep, and Miss Mattie
and Judy ensconced their little charge in
the big splendid guest-room, instead of in
the servants’ qoarters, and waited beside
the drowey child nntil she had fallen into
a sound sleep. When the two women re-
tarned so the dining room they found
James Randal and Sambo ready for a fight
with the storm, booted and gloved and
armed with an axe and a balser.
“‘We are going to give hera Christmas
tree,’’ James annoonced jubilantly. ‘‘She
probably never bad one in her life, poor
little thing ! It may belp her to forges her
bereavement.”
“Bat James, where can you procure a
Hee ay She time " the nights ?*' Miss Mat-
° surprisedly.
“In the ol course. We'll be
back within an hour, and I wish, Mastie,
that you would hunt ap some little gifts to
bang on the tree in the meanwhile, will
you ?"’
“Oh, James, I don’t think you ought to
ventare out in such a storm ! You are not
very robust, remember,’ said Miss Mattie
anxiously.
But James avd bis old servant merely
smiled at Mies Matstie’s fears and hurried
away, eager a8 boys bent on some delect-
able adventure. Miss Mattie olosed the
door after them with a sigh that was fall
of expectancy, for she was beginning to re-
spood to something that called to her across
the lapse of the long, dull, luxurious years
that separated her from her buoyant youth.
She went up to the great store room where
she brought to light many forgotten treas-
ures of childhood, while old Judy fell to
work at her long-neglected ait ol turning
shapeless brown dough into the rampant
gingerbread animals which bad so delight-
ed the children of loog ago. When the
two old men returned with a festively
green cedar tree they found a great nam.
ber of bright-hued packages awaiting the
decoration of the tree, at which all hands
fell to work with trae Christmas zeal.
“Seem lak ole times come back, don’t it,
Miss Mattie,” murmured Judy asshe hung
a fat brown elephant on a spicy bough.
Misa Mattie smiled as she lifted a satin.
dressed doll from its camphored repose of
balf a century. ‘“‘Judy, do you remember
the Christmas that Anant Lida gave me this
doll 2’ she asked.
Sori rar et Dv
mind as t y .
body was jes’ brimmin’ ovah wid triendii.
ky ranked oh so mel {ei body
else er eyse’f. mes chang-
ed a heap sence den, Miss Mattie.’’
“The fault lies with us, Judy,” said
James soberly, ‘‘not with the times. We
have lost interests in our fellow-beings
without realizing it. What have we ever
done for outsiders except to give a few dol.
lars to charities and pass the fallen by on
the other side, like self-righteous men of
old ? II we should die tonight there would :
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WANT TRUTH SUBMITTED TO THE PEOPLE
A AI SA
In the outlook for a better monetary system by equity rule, our newspapers
should inform their readers with annual quotations of world production of silver and
gold and its ratio in political phrases understood by the masses. They should also
inform she people as to the world's mon
by nations, its kiod and volume per capita
in simplified form in order that they might comprehend it most speedily.
The following chart compilation is from reports of the Director of the United
States Mins, The year 1896 and 1898 are used for comparison of monetary changes
because of the ups and downs in trade during those periods.
The monetary system
by nations, its kind and volume per capita, follows :
Year of 1x96,
Gold Silver Paper
United States #35 $8.78 £5.90
United Kingdom 4.56 1.40 284 ...
France 2 10 1282 S55 sen
Germany 129 396 241 ..
Belgium 7.0% 9.06 11.51
Itaiy 3.25 129 5.45
Switgeriand 5.33 { 411 -...
Greece 2 8 64s
Spain 14 7 5%
Portugal 1.00 145 LT
Ronmania 7.15 1.9% 210
Servia 5 T+ 130
Austria 3.9% 1.44 4.50
Netheriand« 558 1.7 6.7
Norway 37 1.00 1
Sweden LIT 102
Denmark 717 2.35 au ..
Ruassia 2.8% AL 330 .
Turkey am 1.82
Australia 0.25 1.43
Lad 18.47 T4 ’
Mexico pe 7% a2
Central America 9 2H 1.43
South America 1 a Bl
Japan 1.81 1.69 .
India aa J2..
China 2.08 ;
Straits Settlement 6%.68 il
Canada 276 10a 6 ...
Cuba $13 A
Haiu 1.00 4.0 4.10
Bulgaria 2 200
Siam «1% A866
Hawaii 40,10 10.0
South Africa Not quoted
Finland Not quoted
“SUBSIDIARY COINAGE BY
3.76
13.28
A3
LH
10,20
4.80
a2
MH
4.52
“There were purchased as hallion and melted at the mints and assay offices 1,170
matilated silver dollare daring the fiscal year, 1908, which were for nse in the manu-
facture of snheidiarv silver eoins.
“*May 18th, 1908 an Aot was passed by Congress restoring the motto “In God We
Trust’ on she coins of the United States to take effect thirty days after its passage.
The motto appears on all gold and silver coins struck since Jaly 1st, 1908, with she
exception of the dime.”
Were there any silver dollars coined ?
In 1908 the ontpat in the United States was 4,574.340 ounces of gold, with a
valne of $94,500 000, and 52.440 800 onnces of silver, with a commercial value of $28, -
050,600, and weight ratio are silver 11} to 1 gold.
From the United States hureav estimates on the world’s consumption of new
precions metals in the arts during the calendar year of 1907 the ratio is fourteen
ounces of silver to one ounce of gold.
There were issued by the government institu-
tions and mannfactured by private home refines for use in the industrial arts daring
the year 1907, silver to the amount of 19,416,987 fine ounces.
Therefore, methinks that the annual amount of silver required for our fine arts
should he deduoted from the total amount of silver bullion avnuvally produced in
America, and the balance coined hy purchase in the open market. Our exportation
of silver hullion to an enemy of silver debt.-paying monzy power reduces the price of
silver unjustly and this Republic has helped to make China poor and bas refused
them an asylom.
“pO IT NOW.”
Crown God of love by silver dollar coinage three million per
month, NO COMPACT with Eagland and Japan.
Aggrewivenese, There is nos
sufficient gold to go around, and single gold standard will cause greater war for the
markets.
Jases WoLFENDEN, Lamar, Ps.
be noone in all the world to miss us.
Think of thas.”
Miss Mattie paused over her examination
of a bright littie string of beads which Judy
bad donated from her hoarded treasures
and looked at her brother with dim eyes,
for the memories connected with the eager
offerings of the old negroes touched her
with a quickening sense of remorse. She
bad been responsible for the slow decay of
feeling, the inevitable narrowing of their
sympathies, because she had molded them
alter her own, sell-centred, prideful stand-
ard of department which was without the
humble grace that the world needs so sore-
ly—the love that descended to earth when
the Young Child came to His mauger cra-
dle on the holy night centnries ago.
“You are right, James,’’ said she. ‘‘The
change is in ns.” She paused to hang the
heads carefnlly beside Samba’s queer offer-
ing. ‘Who knows but that our little
Christinas guest was sent to us for the par-
pose of teaching us the hnman lesson that
we have 80 long neglected ?"’
Before James conld answer, a thin, sil-
very chime of bells heralded the dawn of
Christmas morping. While the four old
people listened to the music of the bells
there came a knock on the kitchen door
and a brisk stamping of hob-vailed leet.
Judy hastened to answer the early sum-
mous and found a gruff, kindly-faced man
who accosted ber in loud, plebeian accents.
“I'm the depot agent that asked your
lady to take care of that listle tyke,” he
explained briefly, ‘‘an’ I've brung her a
jittle Christmas gift, thinkin’ it might
liven her up a hit if she woke an’ found it
in ber stookin.’” I meant to leave it bang-
in’ to the door, hut seein’ a light I thooght
I might as well knock.”
Miss Mattie opened the dining room door
and invited the early caller in, and aftera
moment's hesitation be shuffled rather em-
barrassedly into her presence. But at the
sight of the gaily decorated tree he paused
in frank amazement.
“We thought listle Mary would be pleas-
ed with a tree,” Miss Mattie explained
simply, ‘‘so we fixed this up as best we
could.”
“Well, well, that’s great I’ the caller
approved heartily, holding ont a big pack-
age from which a sulpbur-colored wisp pro-
truded. ‘‘Jest hang this doll on for her,
will you ? *Tain’t what I'd like to give,
but it’s the best that could be got at euch a
late hour. Say, ain’t it wonderful how
kinder pleasant disposed Christmas makes
you feel ? It's a great thing, vot only for
the kids, but for the rest of ue as well.
Keeps a man feelin’ right towards the rest
of the world, don’t it ?*’
*‘It does,” said James heartily, ‘‘it does
indeed !”
‘“Well, I'll go, "cause I've got to be on
hand over yonder, Christmas or no Christ-
mas. I kioder think Abe Simmon’s wife
will take the little tyke for a spell an’
mebby a real home can be found for her
meantime. So jest please send her down
to Simmons’s tomorrow.”’
“We have decided to keep her,”” Miss
Mattie told him briefly.
The man’s homely face broke into a rip-
ple of smiles that made it very good to look
at. “You don’t tell me !"” he exclaimed.
“Say, I never knowed that yos-all was
such a blamed good-hearted orowd ! Ap-
don’t always connt, I tell you!
Well, I'm powerful glad the little tyke
has found such a fine home. I must be
goin’. Merry Christmas to all of you I’
He shook bands all around and stamped
out with a noiey cheer shat filled the list.
eners with Adie of om, klusbip al
most too t ness.
Mattie fumbled tremulously with the
fastenings of the hig flaxen-baired doll for
a moment, then she looked up at her broth-
er with brimming eyes.
“Ob, James," she said, ‘‘this is certain-
y our happiest Christmas since mother
ied !""—By Helen Frances Huntingdon,
in Watson's Magazine.
—Do you know that you can get the
finest, oranges, bananas and grape [ruis,
and pine apples, Sechler & Co.
——Most of us don’t mind earning our
living, but we are impatient of the system
Sat makes it take 20 much of our time to
0 80.
CHRISTMAS ASHES,
Yuletide logs are burning low,
Twelfth-night soon his face will show,
And those sober days come in,
When the year's work we begin.
Bat the ashes—save them all
On your hearthstone as they fall;
Christmas ashes have a charm
That can fend away much harm.
Housewives, take the precious drift
And among your linen sift.
‘Mid your wool and silken cloths,
80 to keep them iree from moths.
Cast the ashes white and soft
Round the byre and through the croft,
Then the younglings of the year—
Fleece or feathers—need not fear,
If s0 be that ye fall ill
(Far to eall on leech’s skill),
Put a pinch of ashes fine
In your evening ule or wine,
Holy is the yuletide flame.
And the ashes just the same;
Love the Christmas fires did light—
Love is in their ashes white!
Thus, the whole round year we may
Treasure blessings from this day:
To our hearts eateh up the glow,
When the yulelog burneth low,
By Edith M. Thomas.
Fable of the Horseshoe,
Do you know the German fable ahout
the horseshoe ? In the olden times, in a lit-
tle village of Germany, a blacksmith was
hard at work. The sound of the anvii at-
tracted the attention of the devil. He saw
thas the smith was makiog horseshoes, and
thooght it would be a good idea to get his
hoofs shod. So the devil struck a bargain,
and pus ap bis loot.
The blacksmith saw with whom he was
dealing and nailed a red-bot shoe on driv-
ing the nails square into the devil's hool.
The devil then him, aud left ; but the
honest blacksmith threw the money in the
fire. He koew it would bring him bad
luck.
Meanwhile the devil had walked some
distance, and to soffer the greatest
tortare from the . The more he danced
and kicked and swore,the worse the things
bart him. Finally, after be bad gone
the moss fearful agony, he tore
them off and shrew shem away.
From thas time forward, whenever he
saw a horseshoe, he would run off, anxions
only to get out of the way. The German
peasantry all believe this story today, and
one can scarcely find a doorstep or a barn
door that basn’t a horseshoe nailed up.
—Our Dumb Animals
Sly tage is my fortune, sir, she said.”
The old rhyme riogs true in that line. The
woman who has a fair face bas a fortune
which many a man of wealth is glad to
wed for. It is a shame, therefore, to
squander the fortuve provided by the fairy
god-mother, Nature. Yet, we see girls fair
as the budding roses, suddenly lose their
beauty and fade, as the rose fades when the
worm is at its heart. Face lotions, tonios,
nervine, and other things are tried, but the
face grows thin and hollow. Fortunate is
such a young woman if some friend should
tell her of the intimate relation of the
health of the womanly orgaus to the gever-
al health, and point her to thas almost un-
failing cure for feminine diseases, Dr.
Pierce's Favorite Prescription. This medi-
cine works wonders for women in the res.
toration of lost fairness. It is a true beau-
tifier, restoring the womanly bealth, and
with health are restored the curves aud
dimples, the bright eye and smooth skin
which are the charms of beauty.
——Do you know where to get the finest
teas, coffees and spices, Sechler & Co.
“Received your ‘Medical Adviser’ and I
think it one of the greatest books of the
age,” writes Mr. M. H. House, Charles-
town, Franklin Co., Ark. Thousands of
people have expressed similar opinions of
the value of Dr. Pierce’s Common Sense
Medical Adviser. It is sent free on receipt
of stamps to pay expense of mailing only.
Send 21 one-cent stamps for the paper
bound book, or 31 stampa for oloth binding
to Dr. R. V. Pierce, Buffalo, N. Y.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN,
DAILY THOUGHT.
Happy the man and happy he alone,
He who can call to-day his own ;
He who secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived tos
day. .
w= Dryden,
Serges, diagonals, bomespuns and mixed
suitings for the street, and voiles and cash-
meres, with sell-trimmiogs in the way of
shirrings, pipiogs, rolled or band trimming
for she indoor dress, are the materials the
economical woman who would appear up-
to-date should select for the winter ward-
robe that is yes to be refurnished. There
are several reasons for this. The first
should be chosen because, being the fabrics
that figure in she fashionable streets suits
made by she most exclusive tailors, the
plainer suits made up in them cannot fail
to be recognized as the proper thi
Again, and in some respecss this is the
stronger reason, they are the materials of
all others that are staple and ‘‘bold their
own’’ she longest. - The same may be said
of the lighter fabrios for inside wear which
I bave just named. Some of the exclusive
models for indoor gowns are entirely free
from all but sell- trimming, rows of shirring
over cords being the moss popular forms of
garnitare,
Corduroy is another material which is al-
#0 shown in medium: priced suits this year
and which falpeats ocensionally almost
every winter. hole suits of corduroy in
dust browns and leather tones, also in for-
est green, with brown for trimmings, and
kuee-length blouses which are considered
a8 smart ® coats, are among the
moderate. garments whioh good
shops are showing. Ido not recommend
these garments, however, where real eco-
nomy is to be , for they belong
to the olass apparel that stamps the
wearer who has not a varied wardrobe.
So, too, does the first suis illustrated on
this Jage with iss numerous out-of-the-or-
dinary res. The pleating around the
coat, for example, and the square collar
which is exactly in the back, and
which is faced with black and white striped
velvet, are features which in time would
weary the owner who could not vary her
costames frequently.
Either the second or third costume would
prove infinitely more satistactory for gen-
eral wear, for these follow conventional
lines and are simply finished, the firss in
velvet, the second with stitching only.
Sooh saits are this year cut in ribbed cloths;
either the hard-finished diagonals, or the
solt-finished or cheviots and home-
spune; or they are of mixed suitings simi-
lar to shose used for men’s business suits.
They serve all sorss of purposes, and a
woman of any age may wear them appro-
priately. They are the styles of gowns
some smart women use for all practical pur-
poses during the winter.
Either suit may be worn with a tailored
waist, smart collar and tie for strics morn.
ing wear; or a lingerie blouse with a fanoy
frill or jabot will make the sait acceptable
for luncheons and for morning or afternoon
lectures and musicals. Again, witha pres.
"| ty waistooas and a lace jabos, the suit is
metamorphosed into a dress that may be
woin appropriately toall bus the most form-
al weddings.
For the morning tan gloves, or those that
match the suis should be worn with suits
of shis character; for the alterncon white or
preferably (because, aud only because, they
are newer) pale tan or mole-colored gloves
ore required.
In inexpensive hats this gear there is
nothing at all so smart and simple as the
beaver-faced kat thas tarn up so sharply
at the side or all round, and are trimmed
solely with a soft band of velvet, a rcsette,
or a feather mount. The mole colored
beaver, with a velvet of sharply contrasting
oolor, is perbaps the most serviceable for
general purposes.
There ate also some very attractive tar-
bans which are made up to matoh tailored
suits of an even more practical sort, In
their case the top of the hat is stretched
with the dress material, and a wide fold of
beaver-finished cloth of the predominating
color of the suiting is wound about the
high brim. No trimming is given these
bats for the presents beyond a simple quill
or a small feather mount. Sometimes noth-
ing rises ahove the crown, and a buckle set
at the side alone varies the fold. The tar-
have are worn with a small dress veil or
Way be given a thicker one for stormy
aye.
In hanging up a dress skirt, especially a
plaited one, it is a good plan to fold the
band in four and pin it flat with a bas pin.
This preveats the ing while in the elos-
et, which so quickly makes a skirt look
shapeless. Many prefer this to putting on
any regular skizt bagger.
The curious thing about gray is thas
women never und ite tones. The
middle-aged, the invalid, she avaemio,
the aonstylish and many others of
kind choose gray whenever in doubt.
don’t look any farther. If they didn’s
want to wear black they buy gray, bap-
hazard, with a satisfied feeling that they
souldn's have made a mistake, says a
writer.
They have made a serious mistake. None
of these women should wear gray. Asa
rule it produces the most lifeless look to
the face that any color does e. black.
Young girls who have brilliant coloring
can wear it; and those well-fed matrons
who have rounded lines and red cheeks
can choose gray without another thonghs.
But the pale, and frail, the middle-aged
woman, with lines under the eyes and
and without color in her cheeks, should
dread gray as she does a dull, wet day. It
depreszes every look.of vitality about her.
Brao Bath Bags.—Take a pound anda
half of new bran, three-quarters of a
pound of almond meal, eight ounces of
powdered orris root and five ounces of
shaved castile soap.
Make muslin bags five or six inches
square and put in each three tablespoon-
fuls of the mixture. The quantity given
above will {ill a dozen and a half bags.
The bran bags add delightful refreshment
to the bath.
Hovsekeepers who are canny in other
directions too often forget that a heavy
salad is out of place at the dinner table.
Plain orange salad served with French
dressing on lettuce leaves cannot be im-
proved upon for most persons by any ad-
mixtere. Diced pineapple with orance is
always delicions, and for variety peaches
or pears may be added. Large, ripe alli-
gator at their best now in the fancy
trait are one of the possibilities,
——You miss a good thing if you don’
take the WATCHMAN,
te. 9"