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