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.