‘grow older,” Martin said to himself. Avdyeeich sighed and said, “And | He smiled and it was as though a CANDIES AND PUDDINGS FOR
1 jes’ p'etend my Dad's alive,
Thst Mama doesn’t have to work,
That she can stay at home all day,
An’ doesn't have to go an' clerk
In that ol’ store—I jes' p'etend!
An’ I p'etend that we all live
In a big house in a fine street,
An’ that we have a dra’ big car,
An’ lots of ‘licious things to eat,
An’ lots of close—I jes’ p'etend!
I jes’ p'ented the kids at school
Don’t laugh at my ol' close an’ shoes,
An' that they all like me—a lot—
That sometimes in the games they choose
Me, too, to play—I jes’ p'etend!
An’ after school, I jes’ p'etend
When I go home again an’ cook
An' sweep an’ dust till Mama comes,
That I'm a princess In a book:
It's lots of fun jes' to p'etend!
An’ me an’ Mama, we p'etend
That we are eatin’ off gold plates,
That we have turkey an’ ice cream,
An’ cake an’ raisins, nuts an' dates—
An' oh, yes—butter!—we p'etend!
An’ when I go to bed at night
I jes’ p'etend that I am not
So awful cold, I snuggle down
An' make believe that I'm too hot—
Sometimes all night, I jes’ p'etend!
An' when I hear the kids all talk
‘Bout Santa Claus an’ his reindeer,
An’ all the things he's goin’ to bring,
I jes’ p'etend that he'll stop here!—
I wish he knew how I p'etend!
For maybe then he'd bring or send
Some things to us—like I p'etend!
WHERE GOD IS, THERE LOVE
IS ALSO
In a certain city dwelt Martin
Avdyeeich, the cobbler. He lived
ir a cellar, a wretched little hole
with a single window. The win.
dow looked up toward the street and
through it Martin could see the city
pass by.
It is true that Martin could see
little more than their boots, but he
could read a man's character from
his boots. Martin Avdyeeich had
lived long in that one place and had
many acquaintances. Few, indeed,
were the boots in that neighborhood
that had not passed through his
hands at one time or another.
some he would fasten new soles. To
others he would give sidepieces.
Others he would stitch again and
give new uppers. And often he
saw his handwork through the win-
dow. For there was always work
for him. His hand was cunning,
his leather good. He did not over-
charge. He always kept his word.
He engaged to do a job by a fixed
time. If he could not he said so at
once and deceived no man.
~ When Martin was a journeyman
his wife died. Martin lived alone
with his 3-year-old son. His other
children had all died. ‘The little
one took a raging fever and he, too,
died. Martin buried him in despair.
So desperate was he, he began to
murmur against God.
One day there came from the
monastery an aged pilgrim. Avd-
yeeich began telling him of his great
SOrrow.
“I am now a man who has
hope,” he said.
“That is not so,” said the aged
pilgrim. * God has shown the way.
Buy the Scriptures and read.”
‘these worus made the heart of
Avayeeich burn witnin him.
went out the same day ana bought
a New 1estament and began to read.
As he read it did him good. He
read. He read every day. He
read till all the kerosene of his
no
lamp burned out for he could not
take himself away from the book.
Henceforth, the whole lite of Avd-
yeeich was changed.
whenever he had a holiday he would
go to the tavern and drink tea.
Nor would he say “no” to a drop of
brandy, new and again. He would
tipple with his companions and
though not actually drunk, he would
leave the inn a hit merry. His
life now became quiet and joyful.
The more he read the more he un- |
derstood. His heart grew brighter
and happier.
Once Avdyeeich was reading late.
Without perceiving it
asleep.
“Martin” —it was as though the
voice of someone close to his ear.”
“Martin, Martin, I say: Look tomor-
row into the street. I am coming.”
Martin awoke, rose from his chair
and began to rub his eyes. Hedid
not know whether he heard the
words awake or asleep. He turn-
ed down his lamp and laid down to
rest. At dawn he arose, prayed to
God, lit his stove, got ready his gruel
and cabbage soup, filled his sam-
ovar, put on his apron and sat
down to work. He thought of noth-
ing but the things of yesternight.
He thought he must have been doz-
ing.
really must have heard that voice.
Martin sits at his window and
looks as much at his window as at
his work. Whenever a strange pair gan to laugh. When the woman as he opened the
of boots passes, he looks forward
out the window to see the face as
well as the feet of the passerby.
The house jorter passes in new felt
boots. The water carrier passes bv.
After that, there passed an old sol-!
dier in tattered boots with a shovel
in his hand. Avdveeich knew by
his boots. The old fellow was call-
ed Stepanuich and lived with the
neighboring shopkeener who harbor.
ed him out of charity. His duty
was to help the norter. Stepanuich
stopned at Martin's window to sweep
wards the window.
“T am not growing sager as TI
thought.
On
soft hearted and tearful.
He
‘ing she stop
| partition wall.
Formerly, |
Then again he thought he
I make up my mind that Christ is
coming and it is only Stepanuich
clearing away the snow. Then
Avdyeeich made 10 more stitches
and stretched his head again to-
wards the window. |
“The old man is very broken,” he
It is plain that
EE
up, placed the samovar on the table
and placed some tea on it. He
tapped on the window. Stepanuich
turned round and came to the win-
dow. Avdyeeich beckoned to him
then opened the door.
“Come in and warm yourself a
bit,” said he. “You're chilled, eh?”
“Christ requite you! All my bones
ache,” said Stepanuich. He shook
off the snow and began to wipe his
feet, so as not to soil the floor but
he tottered sadly.
“Don’t trouble about wiping your
feet. I'll rub it off myself,” said
Avdyeeich. “Here, take a cup of
tea.”
Avdyeeich filled two cups and gave
one to his guest. He poured his
own tea out into his saucer and be-
gan to blow it. Stepanuich drank
his tea, turned it upside down and
put a gnawed crust on top of itand
said: “Thank you. But it was plain
he wanted to be asked to have some
more.
“Have more. Do!” said Avdyeeich
and poured fresh cups for his guest
and himself and as Avdyeeich drank
his cup he could not help glancing
at the window from time to time.
“Dost thou expect anyone?” ask-
ed his guest.
“Do 1 expect anyone. Well, hon-
estly, I hardly know. I am expect-
ing and I am not expecting. I was
reading about our iittle father,
Christ, and fell asleep. I heard my
name called and started up. A voice
was whispering in my ear. 'Look
out, tomorrow’ it said. ‘I'm com-
ing." Look, now. The idea struck
me. I scold myself for my folly.
Yet I look for him, our Father,
Christ!”
Stepanuich shook his head and
said nothing. But he drank his cup
dry and put it aside. Then Avd-
yeeich took the cup and filled it
again.
“Drink some more.
thee good.”
Stepanuich shook his head and
said nothing. But he drank his cup
dry and put it aside. Then Avd-
yeeich took the cup and filled it
again.
“Drink some more.
thee good.”
Avdyeeich spoke of Christ, how he
despised no one but sought out the
poor and the lowly. Stepanuich
forgot his tea. He was an old man,
He sat
an listened and the tear rolled down
his cheeks.
“Come drink a little more,” said
Avdyeeich. But Stepanuich pushed
away his cup.
“I thank thee, Martin Avdyeeich.
I have fared well at thy hands.
Thou has refreshed me in body and
soul,” he said.
“Thou wilt show me a kindness by
coming again, I am glad to have a
guest," said Avdyeeich. Stephan-
uich departed. Martin poured out
the last drop of tea, drank it, wash-
ed up and sat down by the window
to work. He stitched and stitched
and now and then cast glances at
the window. He was looking for
Christ and could think of nothing
else.
Two soldiers passed by, one in
regimental boots, the other in boots
of his own making. After that,
the owner of the next house passed
in a pair of neatly brushed galoshes.
A baker passed by. Then came
along a woman in worsted stockings
and rustic shoes. As she ‘was pass-
short in front of the
Avydeeich saw that
the woman was a stranger and poor-
liy clad and that she had a little
child with her. She was leaning
against the wall with her back to
the wind and tried to wrap the child
up but she had nothing to wrap the
child with.
Avdyeeich heard the child crying
and saw the woman trying to com.
fort it. She could not. Then he
got up and went out of the door and:
cried.
“Why dost thou stand there in
the cold with the child. Come in-.
side. In the warm room thou wilt
It will do
It will do
‘better be able to tend him.
he fell
The woman was amazed. She
came toward him. They went down
the step together and into the room.
“Sit here, near the stove and
warm and feed thy little one,’ he
said. He went to the table and got
Some bread and a dish. He pe |
the oven door and put some cab-.
ud the r lighted it and again set to work.
bage soup into a dish. He took a
pot of gruel, but it was not quite
ready. He brought bread, took the
cloth down from the hook and
spread it on the table.
“Sit down and have something to
eat,” said he. “I will sit down
with the child. I have had chil-
dren and I know how to manage
them.”
yeeich sat with the child. All the!
[time it was crying. Avdyeeich
| quieted its cries. Presently it be-
{had finished eating she told Avd-'
yeeich who she was and whence she!
came.
“TI am a soldier's wife,” she said.
“My husband thev drove away from |
me. Nothing has been heard of |
{him since.
Thav could not keep me and the
child. Tt is now three months since
I have been drifting about without
any fixed resting place. I have |
eaten away my all. Our landlady
has compassion on us. She gives
us shelter for Christ's sake. But
[for that, T don't know how we could |
|Hive.”
have you no warm clothes?”
“Ah kind friend! Yesterday
pawned my last shawl.”
The woman went to the bed and
took up the child. Avdyeeich went
to the cupboard, rummaged about a
bit and then brought out a warm
“Look,” said he ‘“"tis a shabby old
thing, but it will do to wrap up in.”
The woman looked at the jacket,
then she gazed at the old man and
taking the jacket fell aweeping.
Avdyeeich drew from beneath the
bed an old trunk. The woman said:
“Christ requite thee, dear father.
It is plain he sent me by thy win-
dow. When I first went out it was
warm. Now it has turned very
cold. It was He, little father, who
made thee look out thy window and
have compassion on me.”
Avdyeeich smiled slightly. Then
he told the soldier's wife his dream
ang how he had heard a voice prom-
ising that the Lord would come that
day.
“All things are possible,” said the
woman. Then she rose, put on the
jacket, wrapped it round the little
one and began to curtesy and thank
Avdyeeich once more.
“Take this, for Christ's sake,”
said Avdyeeich, giving her a coin.
“Redeem your shawl.”
The woman went away. Avdyee-
ich ate up the remainder of the
cabbage soup, washed up and sat
down again to work. He worked
on and on but did not forget the
window. Whenever the window was
darkened he immediately looked up
to see who was passing. Acquain-
tances passed. Strangers passed.
But now Avdyeeich looked up and
saw an old woman, a huckster who
took her stand in front of his win-
dow. She carried a basket of ap-
ples. Not many remained. Across
her shoulder she carried a sack full
of shavings. She must have pick-
ed them up from some new building
and was taking them home with
her. It was plain that the sack
was too heavy for her.
She wanted to shift the sack on-
to the other shoulder. So she rest-
ed it on the pavement and placed
the apple bag on a small post and
set about shaking the shavings down
into the sack. Now while she was
shaking an urchin in a ragged cap
suddenly turned up, grabbed at one
of the apples and would have made
off with it but the wary old woman
turned quickly and gripped his
wrist. The lad fought and tried to
tear himself loose. The old woman
seized him with both hands, knock-
ed his hat off and tugged hard at
his hair. The lad bowled. The
old woman reviled him,
Avdyeeich ran into the street.
The old woman tried to drag the
boy off tothe police. Avdyeeich
came up and tried to part the lad
and the old woman.
“Let him go, little mother. For-
give him for Christ's sake,” he beg-
ged. N
“Pll forgive him so he won't for-
get the taste of hire rods. I mean
to take the rascal to the police sta-
tion,’ she said.
“Let him go, mother. He will not
do it any more,” the cobbler begged.
The old woman let the lad go. He
would have bolted, but Avdyeeich
held him fast.
“Beg the little mother’s pardon,”
said he. “And don't do such things
any more."
5 The lad begged the woman's par-
on.
Avdyeeich took an apple from the
basket and gave it to the boy.
“That's all right, little mother,”
he said. “I'll. pay thee.”
“You will ruin them that way,”
said the old woman. “If I had the
rewarding of him he would not be
able to sit down for a week.”
“Oh, little mother, that is not the
way of looking at things,” he re-
plied. He told her the parable of
the master who forgave his servant
a debt and of the same servant who
went out and changed his fellow
servant and would not forgive him
the debt.
The little old woman tell-
ing Avdyeeich of herself, of where
I
and how she lived with her daugh-
ter and how many grandchildren she
had. She was melted with tears.
“As to him,” she pointed to the
lad, “boys will be boys I suppose.
God be with him.”
The lad rushed forward and offer-
ed to carry the old woman's heavy
sack. And so they trudged
the street from side to side. The
old woman forgot to ask Avdyeeich
for the money for the apple.
Avdyeeich followed them with his
eyes till they were out of sight.
Then he went inside his room and
set to work again. He worked a
little while but soon was unable to
distinguish the stitches. He saw
the lamplighter going round to light
up. He trimmed his little lamp,
He finished one boot, turned it
round and ted it.
“Good,” the cobbler cried. He put
away his tools, swept up the cut-
tings, removed the brushes and tips
and put away the awl. Then he
took down the lamp and put it on
the table. He took the Gospel down
from the shelf. He wanted to find
The woman began to eat. Avd- a passage where he had last evening | ™
marked with a strip of morocco
leather by way of a marker but he
lit upon another place. And just
Gospel he recol-
lucted his dream of yesterday.
No sooner did he call it to mind
than it seemed to him he heard
some people moving about, shuffling
their feet behind him. He glanced
around and saw that somebody was
T took a cook’s place. indeed standing in the dark corner
—ves, someone was really there, but
who, he could not exactly make
ont. Then a voice whispered in his
ear:
“Martin, Martin. Dost thou not
know, me?”
“Who art thou?” cried Avdveeich.
“wig 1.” cried the voire and fram
{the dark corner stepped Stepanuich. |
i
down
little cloud was breaking and he
was
And
gone.
“It is 1,” cried the voice.
forth from the corner stepped a
woman with a little child. The
woman smiled and the child laugh-
ed and they also disappeared. '
‘And it is I!" cried the voice of |
the old woman and the iad with the:
apple stepped forth and both of
them smiled and they also disap-
peared.
The heart of Avdyeeich was glad.
He crossed himself. He put on his
glasses and commenced to read the
Gospel at the place where he had
opened the book. He read:
“I was hungered and ye gave Me
to drink. I was a stranger and ye
took Me in.”
He read on. At the bottom of
the page he read
“Inasmuch as ye have done to the
least of these my brethren, ye have
done it unto Me.”
And Avdyeeich understood that
his dream had not really deceived
him and that the Savior had really
come that dav and that he had real-
ly received Fim."—By Leo Tolstoi
in the Pittsburgh Press,
SENATOR VEST PAYS
TRIBUTE TO THE DOG
One of the most eloquent tributes
ever paid to the dog was delivered
by Senator Vest, of Missouri, some
years ago. He was attending court
in a couatry town, and while wait-
ing for the trial of a case in which
he was interested was urged by the
attorneys in a dog case to help
them. Voluminous evidence was in-
troduced to show that the defendant
had shot the dog in malice, while
other evidence went to siiow that
the dog had attacked defendant.
Vest took no part in the trial and
was not disposed to speak. The at-
torneys, however, urged, he arose,
scanned the face of each juryman
for a moment, and said:
“Gentlemen of the Jury: The best
friend a man has in the world may
turn against him and become his
enemy. His son or daughter that
he has reared with loving care may
prove ungrateful. Those who are
nearest and dearest to us, those
whom we trust with our happiness
'and our good name, may become
traitors to their faith. The money
that a man has he may lose. It
flies away from him, perhaps when
he needs it most. A man’s reputa-
tion may be sacrificed in a moment
of ill considered action. The peo-
ple who are prone to fall on their
knees to do us honor when success
is with us may be the first to throw
the stone of malice when failure set:
tles its cloud upon our heads.
The only absolutely unselfish friend
that man can have in this selfish
world, the one that never deserts
him, the one that never proves un-
grateful or treacherous, is his dog.
A man’s dog stands by him in pros-
perity and in poverty, in health and
in sickness. He wil sleep on the
cold ground, where the wintry winds
blow and the snow drives fiercely,
if only he may be near his master's
side. He will kiss the hand that
has no food to offer; he will lick the
wounds and sores that come in en-
counter with the roughness of the
world. He guards the sleep of his
pauper mastcr as if he were a prince.
When all other friends desert he re-
mains. When riches take wings
and reputation falls to pieces he is
as constant in his love as the sun in
its journeys through the heavens.
“If fortune drives the master forth
an outcast in the world, friendless
and homeless, the faithful dog asks
no higher privilege than that of ac-
companying him, to guard against
danger, to fight against his enemies.
And when the last scene of all
comes, and death takes the master
in its embrace, and his body is laid
away in the cold ground, no matter
if all other friends pursue their way
there by the graveside will the noblas
dog be found, his head between his
paws, his eyes sad, but open in alert
watchfulness, faithful and true even
in death.”
Then Vest sat down. He had
spoken in a low voice, without a ges-
ture. He made no reference to the
evidence or the merits of the case.
When he finished judge and jury
were wiping their eves. The jury
filed out, but soon entered wtih a
verdict of $500 for the plaintiff,
whose dog was shot: and it was said
that some of the jurors wanted to
hang the defendant.
TON-Y-PANDY, WALES,
A humble street cleaner, who
caught a majestic melody in praise
of the Babe of Bethlehem from the
ceaseless rumble of traffic along the
| roads of this little town, is
the Christmas Eve hero of the
Rhondda coal fields.
Christmas, the triumph of the rich
in spirit over loneliness and poverty,
‘lives again in the solemn soaring
‘music which he has woven into his
| “Latin Mass in A,” which will be
‘sung in Bethania Church by the’
| famous Mid Rhondda Choral Society |
| because of the enthusiastic acclaim
lof its 200 members and their con-
| ductor, William Hughes, noted Welsh
usician.
Edwin Gardner, 65-year-old “muck-
| raker,” who has created a thing of
| beauty from the drabness of his
| surroun was somewhat be-
| wildered by his sudden rise to fame.
| A cheery-faced old man whose in-
| nate dignity suggests the wielding of |
|a staff of office rather than street
| brooms, he sits before the fire of his |
{little home in Trinitv terrace with
| brushes stacked in one corner, and.
| pulls nervously at an ancient pipe, |
| while friends and neighbors pour in|
| to add their congratulations to those |
officially voted bv his’ proud employ- |
|ers, the Rhondda Urban District
| Council.
| Gardier never had a music lesson.
i
——Subscribe for the Watchman,
i
i
CHRISTMAS
Caramels.—Two and one-half cups
granulated sugar, % cup red label
corn syrup, 1 cup cream, 4 table-
spoons butter, 1 teaspoon vanilla, 1
cup chepped nut meats.
Melt one cup of sugar over a low
fre until a golden syrup. Stir while
melting. Add remaining sugar,
corn syrup and cream and bring
slowly tu the boiling point, stirring
constantly. Add butter and cook
very slowly over a low fire. Cook
until syrup forms a hard ball when
dropped in cold water. Remove
from fire and let cool a few minutes
before adding nuts and vanilla.
Turn into a well-buttered square pan
and let stand until firm. Mark into
squares. When solid cut and wrap
in oiled paper.
If a candy thermometer is used it
should register 250 degrees F. when
the candy is done.
This candy is slow in the cooking
and must be stirred to prevent burn-
ing, but requires no aftermath of
stirring or working.
The following uncooked candy is
rather novel and very easy to make:
Uncooked Fruit Candy.—One-half
cup pecan nut meats, 4 cup Brazil-
ian nut meats, 4 cup chopped figs,
's cup stoned and chopped dates, 4
tablespoons shredded citron, 1 table-
spoon orange juice, 2 squares bitter
chocolate, powdered sugar.
rut nuts and fruit through food
chopper. Mix thoroughly with orange
juice. Melt chocolate and stir into
first mixture. Work with a fork
until perfectly blended. Pack into
a buttered square pan. When firm
cut in squares and roll in powdered
sugar.
Lemon Drops. One cup powdered
sugar, '4 cup lemon juice.
Put sugar into a smooth sauce
and add lemon juice. Let
stand undisturbed until sugar is dis-
solved. Put over a low fire and
bring slowly to the boiling point.
Boil gently until a few drops tried
in cold water are hard and crack
against the bottom or the saucer.
Do not stir while cooking and dip
the tines of a fork into the syrup
to test. When candy is done drop
from the tip of spoon onto a marble
slab or waxed paper spread over
smooth trays.
Nut Brittle.—Two cups granulat-
ed sugar, 4 teaspoon cream of tar-
tar, 1 cup nut meats.
Stir cream of tartar into sugar
and put into an iron frying pan.
Stir over a low fire until a golden
brown syrup is formed. Remove
from heat, add nuts and pour onto
a well buttered platter. Spread as
thin as possible. When cold and
hard break into smail pieces.
Any kind of nuts or canned or
freshly grated cocoanut can be used
in a “brittle.”
Penouchi.—Two cups light brown
sugar, 1 cup table cream, 2 table-
spoons butter, 1 cup mixed chopped
nut meats, !4 teaspoon vanilla.
Combine sugar and cream and let
stand until sugar begins to melt.
Bring slowly to the boiling point
without stirring. When syrup be-
gins to boil stir. constantly until
candy is removed from the fire.
Add butter soon after syrup begins
to boil. When a soft ball is formed
when a few drops are tried in a
saucer of cold water the candy is
done. Remove at once from the
fire and cool quickly without stir-
ring. When cool add vanilla and
beat until creamy. Add nuts and
continue beating until mixture loses
its gloss. Turn into a buttered dish
and cut in squares.
It takes longer to cook brown
sugar than it does white, so if you
are in the habit of making fudge
penouchi will require more minutes
of boiling than the , THe
syrup should be firm enough to pick
up between the fingers when tried
in water.
Steamed Fruit Pudding.—8 cups
flour, 3 teaspoons baking powder, 1%
teaspoon salt, 1 cup suet, chopped
fine; 1 cup milk, 1 cup molasses, 1
teaspoon soda, 4
cup raisins, 1 teaspoon mixed spices.
Mix ary ingredients together and
add suet, mi thoroughly. Last-
ly add the liquid. Put in molds
and steam 3 hours. Serve with
‘vanilla sauce.
Date Pudding—1 pound stoned
dates; '2 cup sugar; 1 teaspoon gin-
ger; 1 scant salt; 1% cup
milk; '2 pound suet; 1 cup flour; 1
teaspoon cinnamon; 2 eggs; 1 cup
soft breadcrumbs.
Pass dates and suet together
through a food chopper. Turn in-
to well buttered molds, and steam 2
hours. To serve, decorate with can-
died cherries, or with holly, and sur-
round with hard sauce.
Plum Pudding.—Two cups cleaned
currants, 2 cups seeded raisins, 1
cup candied orange peel, 1 cup
shredded citron, 1 cup minced suet,
3 cups stale bread crumbs, 4 eggs,
14 cup flour, 1 teaspoon ground cin-
namon, 1; teaspoon grated nutmeg,
% teaspoon ground cloves, 1 cup
light brown sugar, 4 cup molasses,
!1 teaspoon salt, . teaspoon soda, 1
cup blanched and shredded almonds, |
‘4 tablespoons tart jelly, 2 table-
spoons coffee infusion.
Chop fruit and suet with flour.
Add crumbs and mix well. Beat
yolks of eggs until thick and lemon |
colored and add to first mixture. |
Dissolve soda in coffee and add with |
salt, sugar, spices, molasses and jel- |
ly. Mix thoroughly and fold in|
whites of eggs beaten until stiff and
dry. Turn into a well oiled mold |
and steam five hours. Serve with
a liouid sauce and whipped cream |
garnish or with golden sauce. This
pudding will serve 12 persons.
rene |
—Orange and Nut Sandwiches.— |
Mix orange marmalade and chonped |
walmts, and soread between slices
of whole wheat bread. i
‘candle is put on a table;
‘children pass one at a time between
rOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
LALLY 1avuaHy
O little Star that shone so brig
So long ago on Holy Night
Give us the Guidance of your light
Shine for us this Christmas Night
—AsS the holidays are a time when
most of us woula like to make one
dolar do the work of five, any sug-
gestion should be welcome which
shows how thoughtfulness can make
a cheap gift acceptable. Therefore
I give a few such instances from my
own experience:
I know a housewife who is fa-
mous for her lemon jumblesc, and
and another whose mince pies are a
toothsome delight. These two wom-
en remember their friends each
Christmas, with their specialties,
and, I assure you, no present is re-
ceived more gratefully than is theirs.
Still another, who makes o
marmalade by a wonderful secret
recipe, gives a glass of this confec-
tion to her favored circle. Buta
word of warning: Be absolutely sure
that such an offering is really and
truly desired. For example, I re-
member one woman, on a strict diet,
to whom all sweets are forbidden,
whose careless acquaintances are
constantly sending boxes of candy,
and one whom strawberries sicken
and who, last year, received a glass
of wild strawberry jam, delicious to
all those who could eat it, but, it
happened, she could not. However,
such mistakes are the result of care-
Jessness, and need not occur.
A shut-in once expatiated to me
upon the solid help afforded her bya
Christmas present of a “utility bas-
ket.” It held all the odds and ends
she was forever wasting, and could
not readily procure for herself—
pins, needles, tape, balls and sockets,
threads and silks and cottons.
“Every time I peep into it,” she
cried, as happy as a child, “I find
something new that I need’ It
was not an expensive offering, and
yet it was one of the most accept-
able I ever heard of. Akin to it
was a little silk sewing-bag, also
rapturously received because the
maker had informed herself of what
the recipient's wardrobe would be
that winter, and placed inside, with
thimble and needle-case, were Spools
of colored silks matching each gar-
ment to be worn that winter. Here
again the thoughtfulness—not the
gift itself—is what counts.
A case of threaded needles is
most acceptable to all women be-
yond middle age whose eyes are be-
ginning to fail, and invaluable to a
traveler. Other discriminating pres-
ents are packets of choice seeds,
saved during the summer, and sent
to an amateur gardener at Christ-
mas time. A manuscript book
(typewritten, if possible) of tested
recipes, compiled by the sender, is
another welcome offering.
—And now to consider games for
children's Christmas parties. We do
not want them to be too rough for
best ‘clothes, but all the little folks
must enjoy themselves to the ut-
most, and to this end it is as well
to have a list made out beforehand,
and to note down the names of chil-
dren upon whom you can count as
“leaders.” Little prizes of bonbons
done up in small parcels, tiny Jap-
anese fans, penny dolls, or little
books give an added Interest to com-
petitive games, but in no case should
they be things of much value. Games
should follow in quick succession to
prevent the boys sliding up and
down the room, or trying each oth.
er's strength, which is apt to upset
the harmony of the entertainment.
A very good game is called the
“Extinguisher.” After clearing the
room, and the little guests
on either side of it, a candle is lit
at the far end from the door; one of
the children is then blindfolded, and
has to find his way to the candle
and blow it out. He can be guid-
ed by the rest calling “Hot” or
“Cold,” but it is really more amus-
ing in complete silence, when he
frequently blows in quite a wrong
direction. All the oarempl: ttempts should
have a time limit, it gets
wearisome to both actor and onlook-
er.
A table game called “Blowball”
originated in America. are
stretched around the table for boun-
daries. Pencils are used for goals,
while an eggshell pierced and
“plown” is used as a ball. Players
sit around the table and blow the
shell about as a bail is kicked in a
game of football. Captains are
chosen, who select their sides, and
once a player has taken his position
he may not leave it.
Just one more new game, and
then, I think, with the addition of
some of the old favorites the chil-
dren would not like to do without,
the party t to be a success.
This is the * Blind Man's Bluff,”
where one is blindfolded, but the
one who is to play the part of blind
man is seated on a footstool facing
a stretched white sheet—just as you
would arrange one for a magic lan-
tern. Some way behind him a
then the
the light and the blind man, throw-
ing their shadows on to the sheet
and by their shadows he has to
guess who it is passing behind him.
The child whose name he guesses
correctly has to take his place. It
is a pretty game and possesses a
good deal of interest. Care must be
taken to have the blind man seated
sufficiently low so as not to cast his
own shadow on the sheet.
But when all is saxd and done,
preparation for Christmas, its
crets, its shopping expeditions,
half the joy of the festival to the
youngsters and if we elders are
wise we will allow them as much
scope in their direction as we are
able.
—To remove ink from white
goods, soak half an hour in vinegar
wash, enale in solution of chloride o
lime, wash.
the
se.
are