A ship came in from the Land of Nod, Its deck was white as snow. It bore no tow’ring masts abova, No anchor chains below. Its small, spring-bottomed mattress-huil Was laden high with wealth, Which strangely had been placed aboard En voyage — hist! — by stealth. The skipper of this freighted craft Was quite a careless sort. The cargo he did not espy, " Till he hove into port. And then upon the portside bow, In raptures he did kneel. For Santa Claus is no mere dream, And Christmas toys are REAL! —GENE MORGAN, NN A ANIA AN At AA \ CHRISTMAS DREAM — By J. A. WALDRON. DREAMED a dream on Christmas eve that no one, surely, will believe. All will discredit it because in it I was with Santa Claus and witnessed many things so queer I hesitate to tell them here. Old Santa had just filled his pack and made it ready for his back. Ti holds a million things or more from Santa’s rare and endless store, and like some basket magical, though tak- en from ‘tis always full. Though I saw Santa plainly, he seemed not at all to notice me. He sat in silence with ga map spread out upon his ample lap to mark his course oer land and sea while waiting for his evening tea. His cook—he has no wife, you know —came in and said she meant to go. She said her job did not quite suit and he must find a substitute. Cooks everywhere just grump and gad, and with most folks they get in bad. ! Well, Santa's smile quick left his face and he ripped up a dress of lace perhaps intended for this cook, who gave him then a wrathful - look; and Rg i | | i jl i D i I Al SS mi mz Wh i i gd reseed l {ul when she put the teapot down I saw her slip from out her gown and drop into the teapot quick some sort of dope with movement slick. "Twould take much more than this, I think, to drive old Santa Claus to drink; that is to say, to rum, per- haps, though sometimes he may like his schnapps. Full many a cup of tea he quaffed. The more he drank the more he laughed. Uncanny was his jollity, and I at first thought I should flee. He seized his pack, and full of joy piled me upon it like a toy, and rush- ing forth into the night began his; world-embracing flight. He used a sleigh, as we all know, but needed neither ice or snow. We sailed away o'er mount and plain, through many weathers, snow and rain—through/| wind and sleet and zero air—though all the time it seemed quite fair. A dozen reindeer ran ahead. Their bells were soundless as they fled, and all the ghostly journey seemed quite fitting in the dream I dreamed. A! | long as Santa will be able to get continent would loom and melt into an ocean ere I felt a moment pass, and yet between a million Christmas homes were seen and gifts uncounted were bestowed from Santa’s rich and boundless load. Though [ upon the top reposed I was in no way discomposed, for magic wonders multiplied that night upon our | snowy ride. The greater wonders, | though, to me might have been traced | to Santa's tea,’ sophisticated by his | cook, and of which he so much par- took; for at the homes of wealth, | where boys and girls had much, | he left few toys, while poorer | children’s wishes found complete ful- | fillment on his round; and to strang> humors he gave vent as here and | there we quickly went. i Some men by others well esteemed i got prison wear the while ther | dreamed; and others, poor and fur nished ill, of good things must have | found their fill; and many men 2% lean estate awoke to find their riches | great, each one admonished that his | .door should always open to the poor. | Fantastic tricks, too, Santa played | on men and wemen, boy and maid. In | one old spinster’s stocking thin I saw him slip a marikin; in one old bath’s | dingy place a woman's form of won- | drous grace. ‘Twas wax, of course; but ‘twas a hint that ought to stir a heart of flint. A rian with millions | strangely made Old Santa left a hoe | and spade; to cne I knew ill-hap %ad struck he oft a parcel labeled | “Luck;” to pals of mine that For- | tune bars he gave next season's mo- | tor cars. This get my goat, and I to see just what he purposed giving me ° quite foolishly the silence broke, and : empty-handed I awoke! —Judge. Sm CHRISTMAS SUPERSTITIONS | If you will go to the crossroads be- | ! tween eleven and twelve on Christinas | night you will hear what most con- | cerns you in the coming year. - — 1 If on Christmas eve you make a lit- | tle heap of salt on the table, and it | melts over night, you will die tie | next year; if, in the morning, it re- mains undiminished, you will live. i If a shirt be spun, woven and | sewed by a pure, chaste maiden on ! Christmas day it will be proof against lead or steel. If you are born at sermon time on Christmas morning you can see spur its. If you burn elder on Christmas eve you will have revealed to you all the witches and the sorcerers of the neighborhood. If you eat a raw egg on Christmas morning, fasting, you can carry heavy weights. It is unfortunate to carry anything | forth from the house on Christmas morning until something has been brought into it. If the fire burns brightly on Christ mas morning it betokens presperity; if it smolders, adversity. A Husky Fowl. Willie came in from the shed where Uncle Rufus was picking a Christmas chicken for his small city nephew's dinner. “Aunt Sue!” he cried as he entered, “what do you think? Uncle Rufus is out in the shed husking a hen!” — Bessie’s Plea. “Say, mamma, please don’t - make any fire in my bedroom grate,” begged little Bessie. “Why, you'll freeze.” “lI don’t mind being cold, just so , Cen piercing sting upon her eyeballs. ! she was trying to hide.” down the chimney all right.” The Gift That Tipped the Scales % By LILLIAN DUCEY (Copyright by McClure Syndicate) RS long as Calista's money held out she went gayly about her Christmas shop- ping. When she found that her tiny purse was empty, she stopped buy- ing—wherein she showed greater wisdom than many grown-ups—and with gag soul replete with satisfac- tion she left the store. “I've got pretty much most everything, I guess,” she said to herself, hug- ging her bundles close as she tripped along the coun- try streets. “But I'll know for sure when I get home.” And when she reached home the very first thing she did was to array the gorgeous gifts upon the white spread of her lit- tle bed. Christmas was two days away. There- fore it was imperative that she begin that very moment to put them in order. Then like an em- bodied cyclone she burst into her elder sisters room, intent upon tissue paper and seals and all the other necessities for making beautiful Christmas bundles. What Calista saw there made her freeze in her tracks, as if the high ! wind of Destiny, which had borne her i thus far, had suddenly become a dead ! ralm. Margaret. her beautiful, lovely | Margarer was standing with tightened | Ips that twitched and quivered. In | her hand, which hastily dropped to | her side, but not before Calista had | feen, was clutched a photograph. And | the whispered words on her lips re- peated themselves over and over in | Calista’s mind, while amazement held | Per dumb. “It grows worse, the ache | —worse as the days go by.” Not until | | | | | Calista had interpreted the meaning of those words did she find her voice; then she said blandly: “I came for— I'm wrapping up my Christmas bundles.” Seeing what she vianted lying on Margaret's desk, she i went for them. : Meanwhile, a brave control touched | the quivering lips of the elder girl. She | | was indeed fortunate, she thought, | that it was only Calista who had dis- covered her momentary aberration. For that was what it was. How could it be anything else? What girl with zny pride would allow herself to— Iio, she hadn’t cried! The man did | not live who could make her weep for him. : “You'll return what you don’t need, Calista, dear?” she said, sweetly. “Yes,” answered Calista briefly, and went. And then, just to prove to herself that she had regained her sanity., Mar- garet Wesley looked again at that pic- ture in her hand—Ilooked, and felt a quick contraction of the throat, a sud- And down upon the picture dropped a tear. Calista, on the other side. of the door, was saying to herself: “She was going to ery. Her eyes vere teary. It was Jaspers picture And then, childlike, in spite of her surprise the gathering forces of her sympathy were completely overwhelmed to the de- mands of Christmas, And why not? After all, Calista’s mind was too youth: ful to be deeply concerned about lover's quarrels and broken engage- ments and such things. And she had made such marvelous purchases. Indeed as they lay spread out on the bed it did seem as if only a genius or 2 little girl could have reached such decisions. There was a really lovely box of handkerchiefs, embellished with the pinkest of pink. paper, for mother. That gift had put a tremen- dous hole in her pocketbook: And a pair of suspenders for daddy. These two presents were the first purchased, and while Calista still held the leash in her fancy. Afterward, let the sad truth be revealed at once (but then Calista was such a little girl, how could she be expected to prove bigger minded and stronger than grownups?), she succumbed to this intoxication of glittering, gleaming, glowing displayed wares. “For brother Jim—that nice green tie,” Calista hummed softly to herself —a tune improvised for the occasion. “For sister Nell—that story book. I Pope she reads it all to me. And baby boy can have that rattle. Uncle Fred that nice glass pitcher.” She paused and added sotto voce: “I got i£. in the beautiful Ten Cent store. #ud he’s going to be married, so he can use it.” Then the song went on— “And Auntie Madge that ‘box of soap.” That was from the Ten Cent store also, but then each cake was done up in shiny red paper, and there ‘ware three cakes in a box. “And sis tur Kate a string of beads. “Once more tie song reverted to everyday speesh: “Maybe she’ll lend them to me once ic a while cause I gave them to her.” “And sister Margaret—" Caiis‘a paused aghast. The one thing ibai had not been apportioned was a tiny set of dishes—also from that beautiful Ten Cent store. She locked over the gifts. Some were already wrapped, for all the while she sang her nimble fingers had been busy. But her gen- ius solved the problem. “Well,” she said reflectively, “she can use them for an ornament on her desk maybe, and I'll promise to dust them for her. I like little dishes.” But having cleared that hurdle an- other presented itself almost imme- diately. On a flooding onset of mem- ory Calista remembered that she had fully intended when she started out to get something for Jasper—the brother that was to have heen but now wasn't to be, as she explained it to her mind. For in Calista’s loyal little heart burned a cteady flame of liking for the man who could treat little girls with the consideration he had be- stowed upon her. vhs This was a dilemma. And for the mo- ment Calista actually thought of rob- bing her real brother Jim of the glo- rious green tie. Jim, just two years older, was a “pig” to her sometimes. But then she remembered that Jasper never wore any but black ones on ac- count of his red hair, as he had ex- plained to her at one time. . It was indeed a perplexing problem to say the least. For had it been any one but Jasper she might confide in some one—her mother, or even Mar- garet—and negotiate a loan. “I guess he'll have to go without,” she concluded almost sadly. And cu- riously a dusk of dreams crept into her blue eyes. “Unless—unless I give him something of my own.” But a mental review of her most cherished possessions failed to reveal anything suitable for a big grown-up man. Then even as she gave up the prob- lem her despairing musing awoke to life with a delighted, “Oh!” As she poncered she had been gazing directly at the framed picture of Margaret which stood on her little dresser. Calista was nothing if not master- ful in the manner in which she reached ultimate decisions—and then lived up to them. Less than a minute after she had allotted Jasper that forget-me-nct framed face she was also promising him a note. For Calista really had a fellow feeling of understanding for the man—especjally about that picture. “Dear brother Jasper, that was to have been,” her letter ran. “I am sending you for a Christmas present the picture of Margaret which you returned when you sent back the other presents she gave you. I know you will like to have it again. I know how you feel. Just most like the day I threw the peanuts at Kitty Mar- shal’s head when she put them in my lap and I was mad at her. Only being a big man and not a little girl you can’t do 'xactly what I did. Of course \ ih A i | NA IN It Was Imperative That She Begin to Put Them in Order. I was mad—but I did want the pea- nuts. So after she was gone and no- body was looking I picked them up again. Nobody’ll know you got the picture, ‘cause I won't teil. Anyway Margaret's got one of yours she didn’t send back. I guess ‘cause she ain't such a maddy cat as we. It's our red hair. “Your faithful and loving, “CALISTA.” “P. 8. A merry Christmas. If you want to send me a pregent send it to Margaret instead. Without being un- faithful to her, I will close by just saying her ache grows worser with the days.” The gift and the letter were done up and duly delivered the next morning. Amid the stress of holding prepara- tions Calista did not experience the necessity of being secretive. Sha walked up to the Hemingway’s door, a little girl bursting with the season’s Joy, and said to Jasper’s mother: “It’s-—it’s my Christmas present to Jasper! No reason—is there?—why 1 shouldn't give my dear Jasper one?” And with a shy littie laugh she scam- pered off. And then the wheels of Fate spun round and round, having been given a very vigérous start hy Calista, Christmas morning dawned clear and white-bound. The drifting cloud banks had left the heavens during the night and settled with feathery light- ness on the earth, had made Calista’s world a beautiful amphitheater, snow- muffled to an echo, wherein sleigh bells tinkled merrily and joyous voices rang gladsomely. It was an ideal Christmas Day. And perfect it proved to Calista. eh Calista was steeped in bliss. But fiot any more so than if she had re ceived but two or three of the many, many gifts heaped upon her by ador- ing relatives. And it was not until afternoon that her maze of joy began to take on coherency, and she began to link in her mind the gifts to their donors. Then it was that she remem: bered her sister's former betrothed. “Did you receive anything from Jas per, Margaret?” she blurted out. For tunately they were alone, the rest of the family having gone to Aunt Madge’s house for a little visit. But since Calista had a cold, Margaret stayed at home with her. Margaret, who had heen staring with dream-haunted eyes into vacancy, started as if some white hot brand That’s Funny.” had touched her. But the next mo- ment, as if remembering that this searing must be endured, she am swered sweetiy: “No, dear.” “That’s funny.” the start and now was taking shy stock of her. “I didn’t either. And I thought he’d give one of us a Christ mas present.” Margaret added nothing to prolong this conversation,. and apparently Calista was too intent upon going her own way in thought to continue it perforce, for silence fell between them. And it was into this silence that the telephone tore vehemently. “Let me! Let me!” shouted Calista. And before Margaret could utter a word of protest she had the receiver. Then assuming an important air of grown-upness she attended to the af- fair in hand. Calista had noted | “Hello! Yes, this is 4237 J. Yes, this is Calista. Oh! Did you like it? Did you? I—yes. I thought you would!—" For a moment she slipped her very proper telephone manner and became the eager little girl. The next she was back again doubly dignified of tone. “I suppose you didn’t give any Christmas presents this year. Mar- garet says you didn’t give her any—I asked her—and you didn’t send me anything—" “Calista!” It was Margaret's voice, quivering, questioning. “Who!” Calista was intent on the phone. “Yes,” she was saying, ‘you saw them going to Auntie Madge’s Yes. all but Margaret and me, Yes, of course she'll talk to you—when I get through. Now! You can’t wait to hear her voice! I must say Jasper Hemingway that you're very rude and impolite. I wanted to tell you about all the Christmas presents I got. Yes, I will be mad. I am. But I'll tell her.” | Meanwhile a white face waited at Calista’s side. From it great team washed eyes stared incredulously. “Here—" Calista was oblivious to the insistent tide of human emotion surging about her, as she held the receiver toward Margaret. “He says to tell you he was in the wrong and he’s ready to go down on his knees to ask you to forgive him. And he says to emphasize the ‘down on your knees.’ ” Margaret put out a hand. It was a wild yearning gesture with which she bent to hear that voice. And Calista. going into the next room, noted the sudden light that flew to her face. Incredibly transformed she was from the dream-haunted girl of a few mo- ments ago. And without really un- derstanding how she, a little girl, had made a hot-tempered man ashamed of himself, Calista yet knew that she had tipped the scales of chance. “I did it,” she whispered to herself. “My Christmas present made him glad again.” Hard Times Sure. Brown—You mustn’t feel disappoint- ed this Christmas, Johnnie. Thess are terrible times we're having. Little Johnnie—They must be pret- ty hard, dad, when Santa Claus takes the trouble to drag my old cart out of the lumber-room and give it a new coat of paint. Cause for Sorrow. Photographer (taking family group) —Now, then, Mr. Housefull, the ex. pressions are all right but yours. Try to look happy; remember that Christ. mas is coming. Mr. Housefull (despondently)—.. Hang it, man, that's just what I am thinking about. Subscribe for the WATCHMAN. Shoes. Shoes. Than a Pair of Comfortable SLIPPERS for Father or Brother. A- Pair of Warm ARCTICS for the Little Boy or Girl. A Pair of Well Made N eatly Fitting HOUSE SHOES for Mother. You Can Get Them at the Right Price at Yeagers Snoe Sore Bush Arcade, Bellefonte, Pa.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers