VOL. 33 THE DAWNING OF THE YEAR. Wnen the snowflakpa of Dorombor robe the earth In spotless white, And the stars In dazzling beauty dccornto tho wintry night, "Wo watch tho old year vanish like a ghost Into the past, To tho music of the slcighbclls and tho dirges of the blast. Wo bless It for its kindness and we sigh above its dead. Across tho heart graves it has left most solemnly we tread; Put we tiyn with hope and gladness as we brush away a tear To pleasures which still hidden lie with in the glad New Year. When it dawns in all its glory we shall put the past away. And. trusting in its coming, greet its bright, initial day. The sun will burst in grandeur on the era that it brings, And loves unknown today will touch tho heart's melodious strings. Oh, when it breaks upon the world may every mist depart, And may its bells ring Joyously in every human heart; For everywhere) on land and sea the mil lions wait to cheer Tho banners which In splendor wave above the glad New Year. I can almost see its footsteps in the soft and fleecy snow And hear its wondrous anthems as its bolls swing to and fro. For Father Time is standing 'twixt the new year and tho old. Ho rings for one a parting dirge, for ono the chimes of gold. Aye, in the crisp, clear night he stands, a smile upon his face. And wishes joy. the while ho rings, for nil the human race; For in the sweet tones of tho bells what heart can never hear The promises of pence that crown the dawning of the year? —New York Clipper. ooeoooocooocNweoooooooooocf | A LEGEND OF j NEW YEAR'S EVE. | ' xxxsooooeoc>eooo(X^x>ooocoGo This ia the ilOth of January, 1871, aairt Dame Madeleine, laying down her knitting with a serious look in her brown, shriveled faco, like ono about to toll a strange story. I'm 91 years old today. I havo lived to seo many won derful changes. I have seen the French at Berlin and the Germans ill Paris, and now I thank the God that these good old eyes of mine can see but little more evil in this world. It is aeldom enough that I stir from home now, for my own limbs are not so lissom now as they used to he in tho days of tho great emperor, wheu I danced down all the village girls at our fete of Paques (Easter) and New Year's eve and prayed for tho soul of our young lord, Henri de Mortemar, for it was up on that day that ho sinned his greatest sin, and sorely indeed was he punished for it. May God have mercy upon his soul! You say you would like to hear the tale? Well there aro not many gen tlemen who would caro to sit and listen to an old woman's idle stories, so if you'ro good enough to wish to learn it you shall havo it, and welcome. Thero's but little remaining now of tho old chateau of Mortemar, and if monsieur the marquis could come back to it ho would hardly kuow his own home again, for when the people rose up in 1793 they scarcely left one stono upon another. You can just seo a half burned corner of ono of tho towers, and that's all. But in the days before the revolution what a place it was! Such feasting all day long! Such music and dancing and gayety of every kind I Such troops of servants in rich liveries, and flno gentlemen with laced coats and sil ver belted swords, and beautiful ladies with powdered hair, and glittering with jewels like tho shrine of tho Holy Virgin in tho cathedral yonder. But to pay for all this, splendor we of the peo ple had to make soup out of nettles and to go without fire in winter, and that's why I'm glad tho times are changed now. M. Henri was the only child, but his father, the great marquis, hud adopted a young lady, tho daughter of an old friend of his who had been killed by his side at the battle of Mindon. These wero all that lived in the house, but there were always plenty of young gen tlemen from tho neighborhood hanging About the chateau—and well there Tnight bo whon such a pretty girl as Mile. Adela was in it. It would take a good hour to tell you of all her admir ers, but tbo two gayest and wildest of them all were Gaston de St. Oyr, and Kaymond de Mericourt, whom they usod to call tho Black Eagle. Holy St. Joseph! What a wild set they were, thoso young madcaps I I can remember as if it were yesterday (though I was only a child thon) how they used to racket about the streets of the town at night, kissing every pretty girl they mot and pricking every quiet old burgher with their swords till he jumped and hallooed like a dancer at a fair. It was no use complaining, for no one dared to touch a gentleman in those days, and once, whon tho mayor ventur ed to object to their doings, they an swered by hanging a dead dog at his door with a piece of paper in its mouth 'saying, "A ton tour, mou frere!" (lu your turn, brother.) Little did they dream, then, that their own friends and kinsmen wore to be hung along those streets in tho very samo way only a few years later.* But thero was ono among the roister ers so different from the rest that he I quito put iuo ill mind of that picturo of : St. Autoine among tho demons which lnings ahovo tho font in our church. 1 This was young Armand do Courval, I who had been bred up for tho church, only his elder brother died suddenly and left him heir to the family proper ty. But every ono said ho would havo douu much better for an abbe than for a lord, ho was so grave and so gentle i and to quiet, hardly ever speaking or lifting his eyes from tho ground. Our I wilil young gentlemen used to make j flno fun of him, as you may think, but | ho bore it all without a word, till at j last they got tired and left off. j Now, of courso, thero was a good deal of talk in our neighborhood about the young lady and her admirers, and plou tyof guesses were made as to who would be tho man. Some said it was HI. Henri, while others declared that, having been brought tip together lilto brother and sister, they would never think of each other in any other way. Most people were for M. do Merieourt, and indeed it wouldn't havo been easy to find a hand somer or a bolder man if he only had Dot been so terribly wild, hut just then a thing befell which gave us all some thing elso to think abuut. It whs terribly hot nil over Franco that summer of 178S, and tho older men shook their heads and said that if we didn't get some rain soon it would ho all over with tho harvest. This was bad news for us poor folks, who had little enough to live on anyhow, but upon it canio another piece of news that wo liked still less —namely, that several dogs of the neighborhood had gono mad and were running about tho country bit ing every ouo whom they met. Now, ono evening about that time Mile. Adela went out to stroll among the trees by tho riverside, which was a favorite walk of hers. Ail at once thoru came bursting through tho bushes a huge black dog, raving mad, with its tongue lolling out and tho foam flying from its open jaws. 8110 shut her eyes and sank helplessly to the ground, too much terrified even to scream. Just then, when all scorned ovor, out from behind a tree (where he had bceu reading all tho afternoon) sprung Ar maud de Courval, tho scholar, tho dreamer, tho man at whom every ono laughed. Ho ran right at tho savage bruto, weaponless as ho was, flung his coat over its head, so as to blindfold it for an instant, and then quick as light ning seized and hurled it bodily into the river. When the other gentlemen heard what had happened, thoy were greatly amazed, as you may think, and praised his courage up to the skies, but ho only said: "Why do you extol me? Givo tho praiso to God, who helped mo." And then he slipped away, as if ho didn't want to hear any more of it. But the next day Mile. Adela camo to him as he sat in a nook of tho great eastern window and said very earnestly: "M. de Courval, I can novor thank you enough for your bravery. I think few of these gay cavaliers who make sport of you would have facod such a death half so woll." But De Courval only smiled a sad, sweet smile, such as ono might fancy on tho face of a martyr when the flames aro rising fast around him. "Ah, my child," said ho in his soft, low voice, "it is better to bo doing good than to live doing nothing." And for several days after that our young lady was strangely silent and thoughtful. The summer passed, and tho autumn passod, and as winter began to draw on every one made his preparations for tho Jour do l'An (Now Year's day), which, as you know, is our great day in Franco. There used to bo a great fcto every year at tho chateau of Mortemar, and this time it was to be oven grandor than usual, for monsieur tho marquis had invited friends from all parts and had announced that ho should givo a feast on Now Year's evo to all the tenants on his estato, of whom my mother was one. So then tho young gentlemen begun to talk about getting up some kind of show to amuse tho teuautry, and M. Henri, who was always foremost in ev ery kind of fun, cried out: "Hark ye, gentlemen, these good peo ple say we're wild as devils, so suppose we take them at their word. We'll dress up as demons and treat thorn to a demon danee." The others shouted with laughter and said it would be just the thing; but Armaud de Courval shook his head. "For heaven's sake, my friends," said ho, "don't make a jest of such things! You know"— "We know that you have a right to be shocked, my dear abbe," broke in M Henri, laughing, "but it can't mat ter much for poor sinners like us. I'm sure if satan himself likes to come and head our dance he'll be heartily wel come." New Year's eve came at last, and tho tenants were thero in their best clothes, mv mother and I among thorn. Tho great courtyard had been covered in with canvas and warmed by a big fire at each end, and thero wo had our supper. Monsieur tho marquis aud our young lady went out among us to see that we bad enough, while tho rest sat at tho windows and looked on. Wliou suppor ended, there was a sad den burst of wild music. Up went a curtain at the end of the yard, disclos ing a stage painted to rej resent the depths of a forest, and out came M. BLOOMSBURG, LA.. THURSDAY. DECEMBER -29, IS9B Henri and nts two friends, dressed as demons, and began dancing and halloo | ing and waving burning torches till | they soared us children so that wo cried | as loud as they did. | Tho lino folks at the windows clapped their hands and applauded lustily, hut { all at once somebody cried out: "1 thought there were only threo of j them. Who's the fourth?" And when we looked, thero, sure ! enough, where thero had only been three | dancers a minute back, there seemed ! now to he four. But no ono could tell exactly what the fourth was like, for ho flitted about like a shadow, now here, now thero and sometimes scenting to ho everywhere at ouoa Then a strange horror fell over the whole assembly, and every ono saw in his neighbor's face tho terror that, was upon hi own. The lights burned blno, and tho air suddenly became foul and stifling, like tho air of a oharnol vault. And as the courtyard grew darker a palo, dismal light, like a half quenched lire, began to rise over tho stage, show ing us that tho faces of the dancers had grown haggard and ghastly and that their dancing was like tho writhings of men in mortal agony. Many of tho great ladies, who had always mocked at such things and believed neither in God nor tho devil, fainted outright, and tho boldest of tho gentlemen were little hotter. Then, amid all tho tumult and terror, forth came M. do Courval. Up ho wont on to the stage, and, lifting his calm, commanding face above tho tortured visages of tho doomed rnou, said sol emnly : "Stranger, if you aro of mortal mold come forward and meet me like a man. If you are a spirit of evil, begouo in the name ol' him who died for us all." Thero came a olap of thunder that seemed to rend the very sky, and all was dark as night, but through the darkness and the silouco wailed a low, dying groan. When tho light camo again, all tho gay guests were huddled togother like scared sheep, while the three dancers lay prostrato upon tho stage, with their dresses all soorchod and blackened as if by lightning, but tho terrible fourth was nowhere to bo seen. Monsieur the marquis sprang upon the stage and called to his son, but Henri mado no answer. He was dead. It fared oven worso with M. de Merieourt, for he, tho bold, high spirited, reckless cavalier, was a hopeless idiot ever after, crying and cowering like a frightened child. As for Gaston de St. Oyr, the shock sobered him once for all. Thence forth ho devoted his life to good works, and died long after in a foreign land, reverenced like a saint. "And the young lady?" ask I, as Dame Madeleine pauses. "She married M. de Courval six mouths later, and wen J away to Amer ica, where they lived many years, work ing manfully for their own living and beloved by all who knew them, and only two years ago their grandson (he's an officer in tho Amerioau army, and such a fine fellow) came over to see the place where his ancostors hnd lived, and seem ed quite pleased to find old Madeleine still alivo and hearty. So, you see, mon sieur, the good can bring good out of evil, after all."—St. Louis Globo-Dem oorat. NEW YEAR'S IN SCOTLAND. Supcr*(i(loiiM ItcKiirrtiiiK; (lie First Culler of (lie Year. It is an exceptional thing for a Scot tish family to go to bed on Hogmanay. On tho contrary, they sit up waiting for the "first foot," or tho one who is the first to put his foot over the doorsill after the clock has struck 12. Refresh ments have been prepared and are kept in readiness on tables decorated us elab orately as possible. There are many superstitions connect ed with "first footing." The most mark ed of these has to do with tho lucki ness or uuluckinoss of "first foots." It is generally believed that the prosperi ty ox adversity of any family is duo to the "first foot" of that year. So strong is this bolief that whou it is known that a reputed unlucky person intends to "first foot" a family all sorts of schemes are rosortod to in order to prevent it. A lucky friond is besought to get there first, or a member of the family stands outside the door to enter as soon as the moment arrives. But all this is done with tbo greatest delicacy, so as not to violate the strin gent laws of hospitality or offend in the least tho unlucky "first foot." Tho lucky "first footers" are friends and wcllwishers, a kind man, a good man, a sweetheart, pooplc who spread out their foot, those who wore born feot first, a man on horseback, a man with a horso and cart. Unlucky "first footers" are thioves, pigeontoed people, crip ples, deformed or weakminded folk, a stingy man, an immoral man, a hypo crite, the hangman, a gravedigger or an undertaker, a midwife, all who were suspected of dealing in witchcraft, those whose oyobrows meet and mon with red hair. There is always groat rivalry among tho young mon for tho honor of "first footing" tho home of the reigning bolle. Excitement runs high when four or five athletic young men reach such a house before tho hour has struck. It is the wise youth who incites his companions to a bout at wrestling to decido tho dis puted question, and himself steps over | tho threshold on tho stroko of tlio hour while tho others roll and tumble out in ( front.—New York Hurald. — 111 niigliuiil I .on K ART". Dunbar, in his pooms, greets James IV thus: My Princo in God Kit tho guid grnco, Joy, glnidnos, comfort and solueo, Play, pleasance, myrth and mirrio cheir In ltanscll of this guid New Yeir, and Scott, in "Auo New Yeir Gift to tho Queue Mary, Quhon Scho Como First Hame" (1501), says: To seiss tliy subjeotis so in luf and feir That rycht and rcasoun in thy rculnte may rule, God gifc thee grace agnins this gudo Now Yeir —Selected. Now Year's Hells. Ring in tho new year with gladness. Ring out the old with a tear; There's always a feeling of sadness As wo witness tho death of a year, A year so swift in Its fleeting. With sorrow we watch its last hour, Then give the new one a greeting Front tho bells in each steeplo and tower. A sigh for the year that is dying. A tear wltero tho memory dwells, Then banish the past with its sighing And list for the voice of the bells. The song of thanksgiving and pleasure That welcomes the birth of tin hour. The soul stirring, vibrating measure, That rolls out from each steeple and tower. Afar o'er tho night shadowed city The surges of harmony roll. In anthem triumphant or ditty, They lighten the sorrowing soul. A voice from each country and nation Responds to the jubilant hour And joins in the wild exultation Of tho bells in each steeple and tower. A thought for the dead, calmly sleeping. Below in earth's dreary gloom; No song of thanksgiving or weeping Can pierce their dull ears in the tomb. But above, where all heaven rejoices. And heralds with praise every hour, They greet with sweet welcome the voices That ring out from each steeplo and tower, —Boston Globe. THE WESTERN FARMER. It Is a Great Itaro That Is Peopling the Plains and Prairies Dr. Albert Shaw says, in an nrtlclo In the Century, on "The Trnus-Missls gipplans 11ml their Fair at Omaha: When one bears testimony to the liuo urss and beauty of all tills array of machinery—a beauty that lies in the ever-increasing perfection of its titness for the conditions that have to be met —one is really paying a tribute to the brains, energy and character of the Western farmer. I have been 011 the Hungarian plains and witnessed the costly attempts of a progressive gov ernment to teach the landowners and peasants the use of Improved farm ma chinery imported from America or else adapted from American types. And 1 have also observed—what is confessed by the government and not ed by ail who visit those regions—the persistent fact of scores o'f men, wo men mid children in the eorn-Uelds with old-fashioned hooe, while long rows of white-tuuieked men, in the hay-tteld or the ripe grain, are swing ing sickles and short scythes. And a little later in the seuson it is common enough to soe the oxen treading out tlie grain or to hear tho thud of the de scending flail. Meanwhile, the new fashioned corn-plows are rusting; the rejected mowing and reaping-ma chines rot in their neglected corners; anil the threshing-machine is viewed askance as an ill-omened monstrosity. It is all simply a difference in men. It is a great race that has peopled our prairies and plains, and that is producing corn, wheat, and oats by the thousands of millions of bushels whore only a few years ago there was the ancient matted sod of the prairies, unbroken for centuries. The men who drive the gang-plow, ride the sul ky-cultivator, manipulate the twiue blnder and send millions of horned rattle, hogs and sheep to the packing establishments of Omaha, Kansas City and Chicago are to he credited with a series of achievements worthy not merely of respect, but even of en thusiasm. I cannot for a moment doubt the ability of such men to rear •11 line and varied fabric of civilization upon so great a material foundation. A Daily Incident at tho Postoffice. Enter Mamie Blank—"Any mail for me ?" "Nothing to-day." "Anything for Mr. John Blank ?" "No." "For Sallie Blank ?" "No." "Jennie Blank ?" "No." "Susie Blank ?" "No." "Harry blank ?" "No." F.xit Mamie Blank, followed, one at a time,- by Sallie Blank, Jennie Blank, Susie Blank, and Harry Blank, each of whom puts the amiable party at the window througli the same rigid examination. Could you blame the postoffice people for occasionally saying "Blankety blank." • The I.cwistown "Gazette" says that by the use of milk and pumpkin seeds a tape worm over seven feet long was removed from a young son of John B. Keller of that town. As the lads age is only 4 years, it is believed he is the youngest child known to be afflicted in this manner. I Save the Pennies, I the Dollars will take A care of themselves. ——— mmmi A DOLLAR Wi!J do as much as two at this store now. Every Suit, Every Overcoat, Every Storm Coat, Every Boys' Reefer, Every Hat, Every Tie, Every Shirt, Every Sweater, Etc., At and Below ACTUAL COST. Hundreds of SHOE j Gldding& BARGAINS are here! CoiTip'v for men, boys, women I P J ♦ and children. A small | THE WHITE FRONT. lot of $3 and $4 wom-| BLOOIWSBURG. en's Shoes still here. I HAVE t#o FORGMTEN ANYONE. There are few things more embarrassing than to be a rccip lent of a gift where you have not been a giver. Have you been placed tn that predicament ? Don't worry, A NEW YEAR'S PRESENT from our store will fix matters up and give you an easy mind. We always carry good stocks and you will find what you want in our " 3 Carpet and Furniture Departments. We have a number of tastv Screens, Tabourettes, Fancv Ta bles, which we will move quickly with the lever of low prices. I hey are good goods, but, as we are just now commencing to take inventory, we don't want them on our list. Fancy Rockers. We can give you a bargain in, this week. Manufacturer was to have them in our store Dee. Ist. In the rush they were dc n' V fß induce us to take them he gave 15 per cent, reduction the price, and to induce you to take them, we add another 15 per cent and you can buy the chairs at 70 cents 011 the dollar, as compared with former selling* price. Fancy flirrors and Pictures. Same old story. Bought too many, and want to make them move. Will not a low price enhance their beauty to you ? Dry Goods Department. •11 Qc^s e °ds we find as we take inventorv. Prices will be low, rather than to carry them into the Spring stock for^ , Sr?S l s.° rChi ' !fS ' TOTVeIS ' 0r "npns. lut y„„ Toys. We had a good business. The few wc have left will P-O for cost. We want their room for our new departments. Grocery Department. Weren't those Grenoble Nuts fine ? All who ate them s-iv our assertion as to their being cheaper, weight for weight than the I2ict. sold elsewhere, was strictly true. Try a samofe n'n,,„!? or the New Years dinner try our fine Mixtures at 2 lbs for ->c c They are fine Everything fresh and good in this department We replenish twice a week, so as to not have stale goods. The Leader Store Co., Ltd., Fourth and flarket Sts. NO. 52
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