I V1. t ICopyrlpht, 1! : ly American Tipbh Asso ciation. Wlli:i!K Is the tree" wliis. pored Mrs. I li Il:m Uf anx iously ns hcliiusbatnl si k I lie snow from Ills coal iirnl carefully wiped his foot on the brand new diKirniiit. "Couldn't got one," returned Philan der moodily. "Couldn't get one! Why not, James Philander?" "I forgot It, Holla, until just ns I got off the train, nnd ns that was the last train from town I couldn't very well walk back nnd look up a tree. Hy that time the shops would nil lie closed and" "Walk back! Such nonsense! Of course If you haven't thought enough of the children to buy them a tree" "My dear," interpolated rbllander desperately, "don't say another word. IH find a tree somewhere tonight If I have to rob the church of the Sun day school tree!" lie thrust his nrms Into his overcoat and grasped his hat, but Mrs. Philan der put out a detaining hand. "James," she said seriously, "you cannot find a tree lu Kose Heights to night. You know there Is not n shop in the Heights, and where else would you look for n tree?" "I shall walk Into the woods nnd dig one," returned Philander, with dignity. "Well, you could do that, James, but It Is 11 o'clock now nnd there Is no moon. You will lose your way." "Nonsense!" returned Mr. Philander. "I hope 1 know my way around Kose Heights. I saw a very handsome pine tree In that strip of woods back on the Turkey hill road. I could walk there blindfolded and lay my hand upon that tree," ho asserted rashly. "Very w ell." returned Mrs. Philander . reluctantly. "I hate to have you go, James, but the children will be so dis appointed. The presents nro all ro'tdy. and I have been up in the nttie and got the base for the tree nnd all the ornaments in fact, everything Is ready except the tree." "The tree will soon be bore." said , Mr. rbllander grimly as he jerked on his nrctlcs nnd turned up his coat col lar. "Just bring mo the spade from the woodshed, please," he added. "A spade, James! I thought they chopped trees down. The ground Is frozen." "Of course, the nx by nil means," re plied rhilandcr irritably. Ho was vexed with himself for having forgot ten to order the tree, which was one of the necessary adjuncts to the Phil ander Christmas. Ho had never for gotten It before. He meant to order It that morning nnd have it sent to his suburban home later in the day. but an important business matter had driv en t lio remembrance of the festival from bis mind until his wife's greeting when be opened the door recalled It to his attention. He sallied forth, bearing the nx, nnd waded through the newly fallen snow to the corner of the street, where he turned toward Turkey hill road. The snow was only six inches deep, nnd the walking was not so bad. Gray clouds hung low, nnd there was a thick flurry of flakes ns Philander turned the corner. When he reached the strip of woods It wns snowing hcnvlly. and be could only guess at the location of the particular pine he had In mind. He whistled cheerily ns ho walked along, for bis spirits were rising. lie felt n wnrm glow stealing over his tired frame its he anticipated the de light of the three small Philanders when they beheld the selfsnme tree thnt they had so warmly admired a short while before sot up In their own parlor, ablaze with candles nnd rich with gifts. Mr. Philander stopped nnd thrashed himself vigorously with his nrtns. There wns a faint grnyness lu the nlr that wns rollcetMl from the fallen snow, nnd there wns the tickling rush of flakes In his eyes. When he reach ed the very opening In the woods where they had nd mired the tree he turned around and looked carefully up ind down the rood. Of course he could see nothing, nor was there the faintest tinkle of bells. It wns n very lonely spot. Mr. Philander knew that the strip of woods wns private property, and he -tlso knew that ho could make it all tight with Lake, the owner of the ivoods, on the following day, as Lake itved four miles away nnd it was Im possible to ask his permission now. Although Mr, Pbllnnder had stated hat he could put bis hand on the tree 'n the dnrk, he found It rather a dlffl ult thine; to do after all. He lost himself several tims In the dense rhlckets, nnd all tho tree trunks seem fd unfamiliar to his touch. Then, all at once, he emerged from the undor nrush, nnd spicy boughs of pine brush ed his face. "Hit it, by Jove!" he exclaimed, no ug tho suow away from the trunk and with a few lusty blows laid tho treo low and dragged it trailing through the snow. Ho lost bis bearings owo or twice, nnd finally, at a moment when no almost despaired of reaching homo W r - a that night, ho found himself standing before his own gate. He carted the tree around to the back door, nnd with Mrs. Phllander's help it was taken into the house and sot up In tho parlor. Mr. Philander thawed himself out In front of the kitchen stove nnd quaffed fragrant coffee that his grateful wife had prepared. "It Is a beauty, James," she said gleefully; "the finest we ever had. How delighted tho children will bo. I am sorry, though, you are so tired, dour." "Oh. I'm all right now, lJolia," said Philander cheerfully. "I wns worried after 1 found that I bad forgotten the tree, but I closed out that deal with Weils today, and I was busy every mo ment." "How lovely thnt you got the con tract, James!" cried his wife excitedly. "That Is a fine Christmas present for you!"' "You bet your life It is," returned Philander jocosely. "Now let us got DRAGGED IT TRAILING the tree ready for tho kiddles. Every thing handy?" "There Isn't a thing for you to do, dear, save to hang them on tho tree," said his wife, leading tho way to tho lighted parlor, where the tree stood, its symmetrical branches glistening lu the light nud exuding a fresh bulsamlc odor. "I5y Jove, It Is the handsomest tree wo ever had!" exclaimed Mr. Philan der, surveying the shapely conifer ad miringly. Thoy were soon at work, and pres ently the beautiful tree blossomed forth in glistening festoons of gold and silver tinsel. A radiant star tipped tho highest point, whllo daintily dec orated gifts burdened tho branches and were henped at the bnse. It was with unusual satisfaction thnt the rhilanders retired that night. They wore ioth to leave the resplendent tree, but utter weariness drove them to bed. It was daylight when the first de lighted shriek from a small rbllander awoke his tired parents. Mr. Philan der groaned dismally. Ho ached from head to foot, nnd he wns sick from lack of sleep. Mrs, Fhllander was equally tired; but. with the self ab negation of mothers In general and mothers in particular on Christmas morning, she got up and went down Rtnirs to enter into the Joys of tho hap py children. When Mr. Philander came down stairs to bronkfnst tho children gath ered nbout lii in engorly. "Father." naked Jack, the eldest, "is this tho very tree wo saw Inst Sunday when wo walked nlong Turkey hill rond? Is this tho very tree?" "Who told you that, Jack?" aaked Mr. Philander sharply. "Oh, mother did. I told her I had seen It some w hero before, and she sulj It was thnt very tree." "I fought Banty Claws brlnged it!" t vxSH i THE COLUMBIAN, walled P.essle, dragging her new doll remorselessly by Its flaxen hair. "An' I linked It came that way, too!" protested KoMu indignantly. "It's a Santa Clans tree, babies, so don't feel bad about It. Hun nway nnd play." said Mr. Philander reassur ingly. Then he turned to Jack, "Yes, it's the very same tree, my boy," he said proudly. "It doesn't look like it, father," said Jack bluntly. "Doesn't, oh? What's the matter with it?" "Oh, nothing. It's fine, but it isn't the tree we saw," insisted the boy ob stinately. "Never mind, never mind," returned Mr. Philander good tiaturedly. He sought his wife, who wns helping Norah with tho breakfast. "Our tree wns a groat success, my dear," he said genially. "It Is beautiful." replied Mrs. Philan der happily. "The children arc so de lighted." "Well, I'm glad of that. I wns tell ing Taylor yesterday morning going down on the train that Christinas was not Christmas without n tree, nnd he said that it wouldn't bo Christmas nt their house, then, for they wore not going to have one." "How strange!" uttered Mrs. Philan der. "Why not, pray?" "Oh, 1 do.'.'t know. He said some thing nbout hard times. lie said tho good, old f.i.dilmied Christmas suited them well enough; that they would Viii: their stockings before the fire and 3! that, you know." THROUGH THE SNOW. "Dear, dear! I think the children prefer u tree just the same," said Mrs. Philander regretfully. "Poor little Tom my Taylor! We must luvlte him over to see tho children's tree this after noon." "Yes, Indeed, thnt will be an excel lent plan. Suppose we invite a few people to spend the evening nnd enjoy the tree with us. We cau put on some small remembrances and have a jolly time," said Philander, warming up to the subject us he proceeded. "That will be delightful." agreed Mrs. Philander. "I-et us ask the Tay lors." "Sure, we'll ask them!" chuckled Philander. "I'll show Taylor tho way to keep Christmas." Thut afteruoou Mrs. rbllander busied herself in preparing for the evening's entertainment. Tho Taylors had ac cepted gladly, and so had the other in vited guests, and Mr. Philander, who was tho soul of hospitality, walked about nnd rubbed his bands with pleas ant anticipation. He made sundry trips to the cellar for apples and cider and cracked great bowls of uuts. He carried lu huge arm loads of wood for the fireplace and surveyed the roaring blaze with com placent satisfaction. it was at that moment that Jack Philander burst noisily in, "Oh, fa ther, what do you think" be began breathlessly. "Well, my llby, what Is It uow?" ask ed Mr. Philander indulgently as he warmed his coattalls comfortably. "I heard Mr. Taylor telling some men that somebody chopped down the tree from his front lawn lust night!" "What tree?" asked Mr. Philander absently. "Why, thnt treo you know, tho Nor way iJno that stood on their front lawn!" "What a pity!" exclaimed Mrs. Fhl- BLOOMSBi l lander. "Mrs. Taylor told ine It was the pride of her husband's heart." "How did It happen, Jack?" asked rhllander, with Interest. "Mr. Taylor snld his wife heard some one chopping about half past 11 last night, but she didn't think anything of it, and this morning they found the tree was gone only the stump left." "That's very strange," observed Mr. Philander. "Hard luck for Taylor." "And, father," continued Jack ear nestly, "I was In the woods on Turkey Mil road today nnd that little treo we saw last Sunday Is there yet. You didn't cut It down. I knew that one wasn't It!" Mr. Philander paled slightly. "Why, father." pursued the terrible Jack with a directness born of sudden revelation, "this Is Mr. Taylor's tre! , I knew I'd seen It before!" Mr. Philander shrank from their bor- j rllied pnze. "The Taylors will be here In a few minutes, James," said Mrs. Philander coldly. "My dear, I must have got turned around In tho storm, but tho Lord only knows how I got in Taylor's . Ti I j m il. "It's on tho other side of tho woods, father," said Jack sympathetically, "nnd I guess you walked right through nnd Into Mr. Taylor's yard." "I must have done that," gronned Mr. Philnndor. Then with sudden in spiration ho stripped tho tree of Its ornaments and candles nnd enrried It through the house Into the back yard. He scratched a match, nnd in five min utes the Philander Christinas tree wns n charred ruin. "Too bad, old chap," said Taylor commlseratlvely ns Philander ngl tatedly explained the absence of tho tree. "That's one reason why 1 don't believe In Christmas trees. They nre apt to take lire, nnd there you nre. I nm glnd It happened before we ar rived!" "So am I." ejaculated Mr. Philander. Hut nil tho little Philanders agree that It wns tho most beautiful Christ mas tree they ever had. A TRUE STORY OF CHRISTMAS AT SEA. Copyright, 1V9, by American Prss Asso ciation The gathering of "old salts," official ly known 11.-4 the Harbor club, was in session nt Captain Trnman's store, down by tho dock! Outside the wind howled nnd shrieked through the rig ging of the fleet of coasting vessels warped alongside tho Main street wharf, nnd unconsciously the men hitched their chairs closer to the fire ns n fiercer blast rattled the windows. Puting a temporary lull In the storm Cap'n SI Tut tie broke tho silence with the following narrative: "'Twits Jest sech a Christinas eve ns this, along back In the eighties, when I was roiindln' old Hatteras in the good ship Tlrzah Ann. You recol lect her, don't you? Hailed from Green port and could smash through any gale that ever blowed. "In course 'twas some wet on deck, and the further wo pounded along the rougher It got. nnd finally we had to turn nud run afore the wind. Never saw sech a gale to hang on! Wo plowed through seas you could only guess tho height of. And dark! You couldn't sec your hand afore your face. "There was five of us aboard, nnd we was pretty well tuckered out next mornln', but daylight showed no lot- up, and, to make things wuss. a heavy snow sot in. Seemed as if it turned to Ice to wunst soon ns It hit the deck. and afore you could say 'Jnck Robin son' the riggln was froze solid, and n dozen men with axes couldn't have cast loose the dory. "Along nbout six bells the fust mnte took the wheel, nnd I went below to get a bracer, when there come a heavy crash, and both mnsts went by the board. I went up the companlonway In two Jumps, but afore I reached the deck the water was pourln' into the fo'castle in tons, nnd the ship begun to henve nnd wallow like n stuck pig. . "There wnrn't any use tryln' to launch the dory, even If we hnd had time, and In two shakos of a dog's tall the Tlrzah Ann rose high on tho top of a hugo comber, quivered like a dyln Hon and then plunged head first boneath the waves with all on board." Captnln Si Btopped and leisurely bit off a chunk of cut plug, when some one asked, "How did you escape?" "We didn't." drawled the captain. "Every blamed one of us wuz drown ded." W. F. n. ChristniMK Superstitions. If Christmas day on Sunday be, A troublous winter ye aha!! see. Mingled with waters strong; Good there shall be without fable, For the summer shall be reasonable, Wttli storms at times among. Wines that year shall all be good; The harvest shall be wet with flood. Pestilence fall on many a country. Ere that sickness Hhall have passed And while great tempests last Many young people dead shall be. Princes that year with Iron shall die; There shall be changing of many lords high. Among knights great debate. Many tidings shall come to men; Many wives shall be weeping then, lioth of poor and great estate. The faith shall then be hurt truly, For divers points of heresy That shall then appear ThroiiKh the tempting of the fiend, And divers matters unkind Shall brine great danger near. Cattle shall thrive, one and the other, (Save own; they shall kill each other. And some beaBts they shall die. Both r. It and corn will not be good. Apples ill be scarce for food, And ships shall suffer on the sea. -From Ilarlelan MS. In British Museum, Fifteenth Century. i CHRISTMAS IN FICTION. By GEORGE II. PICARD tCopyrlgnt, 19)?, by Amrlcnn Press Asso ciation OT until the first linlf of the last century wns well spent did the spe cies of literature which has come to be know n as( iirlst mii fiction effect a permanent I o d g- jr "ctit In I he hearts -jr of Kttgllsh speak- ancient paramo p 1 a ys and the rhymed holiday legends of the mid dle ages nre still In iTiVtn. n!0 on the continent, but the mire ocular minded F.ngUsh had only the rude Yuletlde jingles nnd the quaint enrols of beef eating nntlqulty. Contrary to tho prevailing notion, the inventor of the tale with a distinctive ly Christmas flavor was nn American. It Is likely that It would occur to few Americans and to no KngUshtnnn to dissent If It were asserted In their presence that Charles IUckens orlgl tinted the Christmas story. His name Is so Inseparably connected with so much of the holiday literature on shrined In the popular heart that It Is smnll wonder the mention of Christ mas suggests him. Tho credit of tho "literary find," however, must be given to another, n man who was at tho end of his thirties when IMokens was born, who had been nt Malta when Nelson's fleet sailed away to Trafalgar, w ho had visited Sir Walter nt Abbotsford and had captivated him nnd who was nft erwnrd secretary to the 1'nltod States legation In r.njjland. Thnt, of course, means Washington Irving. Ining's first book, "The Sketch-Pook of (looffroy Crayon. Cent.." had pleased everybody, so much so. Indeed, that It was republished by John Murray In London nnd translated Into several con tinental languages. P.oth tho publish ers nnd the public were urging him to do something equally meritorious. No body realized more keenly than did the author of the exquisite work the dilll culty of producing lis mate, nnd la was not a man to be driven into medi ocrity. Three years later he published "ltracebridge Hall," ami the chapter of that masterpiece of literary workman ship entitled "Christmas at ltracebridge Hall" was the pioneer holiday tale of L'ngllsh literature and has furnished a model for subsequent tlctloiilsts which has seldom been equaled and never excelled. Its easy grace nnd felicity of expression were a revelation to every body In those days, and the wonder and tho charm are potent still. William Makepeace Thackeray, mas tor of a realism that is the wonder nnd the despair of those who have followed him, needed no model nnd chose n one. His "Mrs. Perkins' l'.all" re sembles ti o t h 1 n g ever conceived In the mind of any o t h e r man. The public was pleased with It, but never so m u c h ns was Thackeray himself. HAWTHORNE. Most amazing of all, tho author of the tale professed to believe that It was "Mrs. Perkins' Hall" that had made his reputation that, too. In the face of the fact that "Vanity Pair" bad just been published. This perversion of Thackeray in regard to the literary value of his wares and his lack of faith iu his masterpiece he bad so little confidence in tho success of "Vanity Fair" that ufter it appeared lie applied for a small government position are proof sufficient that the man who cre ates a masterpiece may have n dim conception of artistic values. All the makers of great fiction are more or less under the spell of their immediate surroundings, but few have made It more apparent than Charles Dickens. Those who knew the circum stances saw plainly that he hud put himself and his sad childhood Into many of his pathetic short stories. This Is especially true of "The Ghost In Master H.'s Hooi." which Is an ac count of things which happened to him lu his troubled boyhood. As a child he was a firm believer In ghosts, and it Is probable that he novel entire ly abandoned his faith in spectral ap pearances. Many of his tales are peo pled with disembodied spirits, and they are like the ghosts of no other writer. They are the spooks that appeal to oue and make oue believe In their genuine ness. They ure frequently more reul than the living characters who consort with them. Although they are deud, they conduct themselves like living en titles. lilckeus' Christmas ghosts are unique in the realm of literature. Of all tho silent shapes that havo been sum moned from the upper and nether worlds to lend en chantment to the Christmas tale bis alone have become acclimat ed. There is nev er anything re pulsive about them. They nre the most commm- THAUKEHAT. lonable spooks tvae Invented. They are seldom sepulchral, but are fre quently cheerful. They are not tho haunting, sleep killing and never to be exorcised phantoms of the fairy tales, but actual personalities, freed from all X' mortal restrictions In regard to loeonio tloti that come to us when we bid them, nnd vanish politely when we nre weary of their presence, I'.ret Ilnrto never made n soeief of his admiration for the creator of Little Nell nnd Tom Pinch. Like Pmil nt tho feet of Gamaliel, bo wns content to receive his lesson from tho man he acknowledged to be his master. .,t until nfter Pickens had finished work did the young literary light v Im stood revealed In tho far western firma ment learn that his model had seen that exqnisl'e elegy "Pickens n Camp" nnd had been beard to ospn his admiration of It In the mot pen. eroiis terms. Tho dying novelist do. dared I hat the work of the new Ain.r lean writer contained such siibiie strokes of workmanship ns no other writer In tho language had yet e. hiblted. And then he asked, with humorous gleam In his weary eyes, "Pon't you think that his manner Is very like my own?"' Like Pickens, Untie had n genuine fondness for the doings of Yuletlde. One who knew him best snys that up to tho last day of his life "he thought much of the Christmas season nnd t.i the last kept tip the fond and foolish custom of sending generous presents to his friends." Potter appreciated in I'ngland than In his native country, Itnrto spent tho later years of his life abroad, but bis stories were to the last, distinctively American. In that ad mirable performance entitled "How Santa Clans Came to Simpson's Par" there Is ,no fiuvor of the old world Christmas, nnd Johnny, clothed In the stars nnd stripes, Is n young American of tho most unmistakable sort. Two of the most strikingly dissimi lar Christmas stories over written nre Hawthorne's "Christinas Pan quet" and Miss Mltford's "Christ mas Party." There Is little of Christmas in II a w t h o r n o's growsome tale. Tho Joyous festi val Is only n lit erary makeshift, around which Is dickens. woven a weird psychological study that drives all re membrance of the blessed season from the mind. Its ghosts are not the so ciable nnd easily banished spooks of Pickens. They are formless and creepy and all pervading. They are the fearsome specters that rise lu the frig Id vapors of Gorman mysticism, and they are made Icier still with n strong admixture of Now L'nglaml transcen dentalism. It is n masterpiece in con ception and in treatment no question at all about that but It does not make tho Yule log glow more brightly or lend a bettor flavor to tho steaming bowl. Mary Hussell Mltford does not deal In ghosts. All of her Christ inns char acters are flesh and blood people, and they are not of the sort that "will tw stay dead when they die." Her "Christ mas Party" Is as dainty in Its work manship ns anything which ever came from her careful pen. and that is say ing much. It is ns Tstful nnd non suggostlve ns n pastoral, nnd its influ ence is ns soothing ns the delicate savor which escapes when the cover of n potpourri jar Is lifted or the drawer of an old time cabinet Is open edthe faint, pervasive odor of crush ed rose leaves and dried lavender. THE RATIONAL CHRISTMAS. By ELLIS FRAME Copyright, 1209, by American Press Asso ciation. "Let ua give in reason this year," she suggested; "Not merely for the sake of glvlnc things. It's the spirit, not the money Invested. Let us, therefore, turn from foolish squanderings. Let the gilts we give be things that may bo needed Instead of trash soon to be cast aside." "My darling, your suggestion shall be heeded. For there Is wisdom In it," he replied. She did her shopplns early, being guided Uy lessons learned from much experi ence. She would show her lord and master, she decided, How excellent a thing was common sense. For their baby boy she purchased a French corset And an oriental rug that caught her eye. "Though the darling longed to have a rocking horse, It Wasn't sensible," she murmured, with a sigh. They had promised not to buy things for each other. They would merely get a few things for the child. She would sacrifice her slater and her mother, And it gladdened her to see the way he smiled A he said his people, too, should be omit ted. Bo the wise and winsome woman, day by day. From Bhop to shop, with sweet emotion, flitted, Having dry goods bound up and sent away. He bought a plpo and splendid smoking Jacket To givo their darling glee on Christmas morn. With these the child could make no such a racket As might have been produced with drum and horn. He also got the works, unexpurgated, Of old lioccaccio and Habelals, 80 that their little one might be elated And long have glad remembrance of the day. On Christmis when their presents were displayed They sat upon the sofa side by side, And while their child looked up at then:, dismayed, He had a culprit's manner, and eh" cried.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers