slft>nt nre the
eS/C stfi.'.y del'-.
And southward nil
(IW'""fir? the birds have
* T ■' tiown,
While breezes
through the maples moan
In Rrlef for joys th«y onee have known.
What music all the tioom dispels?
The Christmas Ueils! The Christmas I Jells!
While earth beneath a silver sheen
Lies white and still, when moonbeams
glow
On tiny graves where drifted snow-
Conceals the blossoms in their woe.
What beauty lights the lonely scene?
The Christmas Green! The Christmas
Green!
Though wintry winds are hold and free
That Sihake the orchard kings of old
Whose autumn wealth of red and gold
No more their rugged branches hold;
What bends with fruitage fair to see?
The Christmas Tree! The Christmas Tree!
When lonely hearts by sorrow tried
Find wealth of earth is but alloy
And love deferred their hopes destroy,
What blessing lloods their soul* with joy.
Till earth and heaven are glorified?
The Christmas Tide! The Christmas Tide!
—Hutli llayniund, in Minneapolis House
keeper.
<ypip§
/jV\ jr" | l" "WAS early twi
#y i light of the day
fr. before Christmas,
J> and Mrs. Saxton
sa * ' n ' ier a^or ' te
* /TxS ' -window seat with
( „• * an open magazine
V* \ upon her lap. She
) / was not reading,
"^V".- however, but was
*s®' looking out upon
the usually quiet avenue, now thronged
with package-laden pedestrians and de
livery wagons heaped high with good
things for the morrow. The expression
of her countenance as she regarded the
hurrying throng was a mixture of pain
and perplexity. She had considered
her own plans for to-morrow settled
some weeks ago, but something she had
just read had jarred her out of har
mony with them and it seemed too late
to make new ones. It was not the arti
cle on "Christmas Giving" that had
done the mischief, but the time-worn
quotation with which it ended:
"Who gives himself with his alms feeds
three;
Himself, his hungering neighbor and Me."
Not that the words were new to her
—Oh, no! They had been her Christ
inas motto every year since. when a
girl of 15, she had first read the Vision
of Sir Launfal. It was this that gave
the words such power over her, for on
this particular Christmas she had de
cided for the first time in 12 years to
set aside her rule and give her alms
without giving herself. She had sent
turkeys, and other good things to nu
merous needy families, bestowed lar
gesse upon sundry orphan asylums,
homes and hospitals,and otherwise used
without stint the money of which she
had abundance; but for herself—her
house was to be closed, her servants
given an entire holiday and she, in the
solitude of her own chamber, shut away
from all sight and sound of merry
making. would indulge ihe bitterness
of her grief for the husband she had
loved and lost. Last Christmas had
been her wedding day, and the husband
to whom she had confided her Christ
mas. motto had said, with eyes shining
with joy and tenderness:
"And this year the gift is mine—
literally yourself—my priceless Christ
mas gift!"
They had enjoyed three months of
earthly paradise and then—there was
a railway accident, and a horrible
bruised mass, upon which she was not
allowed to look, but from which thev
extracted the ring she had given him
and the watch on whose dial was her
own picture*—this had been brought
home at an hour when she expected her
husband, and all the light of the world
had for her gone suddenly out.
They had wanted her at home this
Christmas, but how could she go where
everything would remind her of that
joyous wedding day? No, solitude was
best, for her, and so her day had been
planned.
Hut as she sat now in thedeepening
twilight with the words of her dis
carded motto echoing in her mind, this
quaint saying lodged there from some
long past reading awoke to keep them
company.
She gave a quick little- gasp and a
hot wave—was it shame, remorse, 01*
pure amazement? —swept over her. A
coward? Certainly not! Hut a hero—
what, was a hero? A hero thought only
of others to save, to succor, to uplift
others. For this he sacrificed comfort,
honors, life even, that is, he gave him
self. So it all came back to that after
all; and if she carried out her plans
for the morrow, would she be a cow
ard .' Jiuf it was so late to make new
plans-. Twilight died slowly away and
the electric lights flashed out over the
busy avenue and still Mrs. Saxton
thought. At length she turned from
the window, closed her magazine, drew
down the shades and turned on the
light in her cozy sitting-room and,
touching a bell, summoned the liouse
naid.
"You will be taking dinner with j our
Sster-in-law to-morrow, Nellie?"
"Yes, Mrs. Saxton," responded Nellie,
nth the tone and manner of a well-bred
idy.
"Do you think it would put her out
ueh that is, do you think she would
tjov having me dine with her also?"
The girl s face lighted with surprise
d pleasure.
"Do you really mean it, Mrs. Saxton?
Would you? Amy would be so glad.
She speaks cf you so often. She feels
»o—"
The girl hesitated.
"Yes, I know, Nellie. My friends nre
all very kind—kinder than J deserve.
Well, then, if you think I shall be wel
come would you run over to-night and
tell her to expect me? Say that to
morrow will be a sad day and 1 should
like to be among' friends. Stay—l shall
not need you any more this evening.
You may as well stay ail night. Then
if my coming makes extra work you
can help her."
"Work! () Mrs. Saxton, how can you
say it? Amy will count this among her
very happiest Cliristmases. You see,"'
she said, with a sudden frankness quite
unusual with her, "since my brother
has been out of work so much, Amy has
a pretty hard time, and sometimes it
sucms to her as though her old friends
forgot her. She sa.vs the past is all
slipping away from her and Ilic future
looks dark. Forgive me for telling you,
Mrs. Saxton. She was not thinking
of you so much —for she knows you
have had trouble of your own—but
Amy has been a good sister to me and
it hurts me to see her getting so dis
couraged."
"I thank you for telling me, Nellie.
Good night, and a Merry Christinas to
you!"
"1 was getting to be a toward," she
said to herself, sadly, as the door closed
upon the smiling girl. "J was thinking
that mine was the only trouble in the
world."
Nellie's sister-in-law had been a class
mate of Mrs. Saxton's in the seminary
and one of her many admiring friends.
The fact that she had married a me
ehanic and Mrs. Saxton a wealthy man
had not interrupted their friendship,
and when the young sister-in-law had
asked to be taken as one of Mrs. Sax
ton's servants, she had been cordially
welcomed and given a place of friend
as well as servant. But during these
months, of terrible bereavement she
had shut herself away as far as possible
from all past associates.
From little remarks that Nellie let
drop occasionally, Mrs. Saxton had half
suspected the state of mind into which
her old friend Amy Harris was lapsing;
and the thought that had come to her,
when she sat in the twilight trying to
"TELL ME," BHE WHISPERED, WITH DIFFICULTY, "HOW LONG?"
reconstruct her plans, was that her own
deep sorrow might in a way minister
to Amy, might remind her that, in spite
of financial hardships, she still had the
best that life could give, her husband
and her children; while she—Sunshine
Saxton —as she had always been called
—in spite of wealth, had nothing.
When Sunshine Saxton made up her
mind to give, she gave unstintedly and
without grudging. Having resolved to
give herself that Christmas clay, she de
termined to be no specter at anyone's
feast. Therefore, alone in her bedcham
ber on that beautiful Christmas morn
ing, she fell upon her knees and opened
her heart to the ever-new, Divine mes
rage of "Peace and good will to men."
And when she came out dressed for din
ner, it was with a smile upon her face
—not a glad, joyous smile, perhaps, such
as it had worn a year ago, but a wistful,
yearning smile as of one who would
fain bear the "glad tidings to others."
"She looks just liketheChristmas An
gel on that big card in the store win
dow," whispered one Tittle Harris boy
to another when she had left her wraps
in their tiny bedroom and came forth
to greet them cordially and take her
place by the open Franklin stove which
was their Christmas hearth.
And indeed, as she stood there, in a
dress of soft white wool with white
chrysanthemums upon her breast and
the sunlight from the window touch
ing her wavy blonde hair and the fire
light flickering across her delicate
features and dancing in her deep blue
eyes, the artist of a "Christmas An
gel" might have chosen a much worse
model than Sunshine Saxton.
At dinner the. talk drifted naturally
and safely back to the old school days,
and Nellie and her brother exchanged
glances of satisfaction as Amy's laugh
rang out now and again with an old
time heartiness which the cottage walls
had not echoed for many a day.
"Oh! I had almost forgotten to tell
you," said Amy. as they lingered over
the dessert in the lr.id-afternoon ; "YOU
remember Carrie Cramer?"
"Yes, very well. A brilliant girl. She
did not finish her course. I have often
wondered what became of her."
"Oh. she married like the rest of us.
Her husband was a poor artist with
consumption, lie died two years ago
and left her with three children, no
money, and —his disease."
"TI 3\v sn*! Thai girl oiiplit fn have
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS. THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1899.
had a brilliant career. Where is she
now ?"
"She lives only a few doors away. I
only discovered her a few weeks ago,
and then by chance. She hud a hemor
rhage and the children, who were alone
with her, became frightened and ran
over here for help."
"You say her husband left no in
come. How, then, do they live?"
"Upon the little she earns with her
pen. Shu was our best composition
writer, you remember. 15ut it is a
meager and uncertain income. Besides,
it is hastening her death. The doctor
says she cannot possibly live until .sum
mer. She sits indoors and writes and
coughs when she ought to be in the open
air and sunshine."
"Why did you not send me word?
Certainly she needs a friend —friends,
rather—l know you have done all in
your power, but I must do my share.
Poor woman! Poor Carrie! Who could
have imagined such a life for her!"
"1 thought of you, and meant to tell
you sometime, but your own trouble
was so great—" <
The street door, which opened direct
ly into the sitting-room, which on this
occasion served as dining-room, was
pushed suddenly open and a delicate
girl of seven or eight years, with wide
open, frightened eyes, rushed into the
room exclaiming:
"O Mrs. Harris, please come quick!
Mother has another—"
"You will excuse me," said Amy,
springing to her feet and turning to
her guest. "It is Carrie's little girl.
Her mother is ill again. I feared it.
She was working so hard this morning
to make a merry Christmas for the
children. She said," lowering her voice,
"that it would likely be the last they
would spend together."
"I will go with you," cried Mrs. Sax
ton. rising also.
They found their friend tying on the
lounge, fainting from loss of blood and
scarcely able to speak. Yet she gave a
smile of recognition as Mrs. Sax ton took
lierhand. Slit- knew who was to be guest
at the cottage. Mrs. Harris had prom
ised to bring Sunshine to see her after
dinner. In one corner of the room
stood a tiny Christinas tree which she
had been helping the children decorate
when the hemorrhage came. Under its
branches sat three-year-old baby Car
lie crying quietly, with her present for
mamma, a little pen-wiper made by her
own hands guided by her sister, clasped
close to her breast. The eldest child,
nine-year-old Ralph, had gone for the
doctor.
The pathos, nay, the bitter agony of
it, struck home to Mrs. Saxton's heart
so sharply that for a brief moment her
own trouble seemed an insignificant
thing.
"Have they no one when their
mother goes? No relatives to look after
them?" she whispered to Mrs. Harris.
She shook her head sadly.
"Absolutely no one, she tells me. To
leave Ihein to public charity—the
thought of their separation from each
other—that is what makes, dying so
hard for her. Ah! here comes the doc
tor."
He bent, over his patient tenderly,
counting the flickering pulse. She
looked into his face beseechingly.
"Tell me," she whispered, with dif
ficulty. "how long—"
lie did not answer at once, but at
last her look compelled him.
"An hour—two- —perhaps."
Then tiic three children gathered
close about her now. Her £yes rested
upon them with a look of unutterable
anguish.
"Don't, mother!" cried the boy,
sharply, placing one arm about each
sister. "1 will take care of them. They
shall not separate us. God will help
me."
Mrs. Saxton stepped quickly forward,
looking more than ever like a Christ
mas angel as she gathered tlie three
children suddenly in her arms.
"They shall be mine," she said. "God
has given them to me—a Christmas gift
to till my empty home."
The dying mother half raised herself.
Joy struggling with doubt shone in her
face.
"Yours, Sunshine? All three? Not
separated—?"
'•Yes. mine—nil of them—if you will
give them to me. I have money and
nothing else in the world'. I want them.
See," she continued, bending to kiss her
dying friend, "you go to join your hus
band; your little ones shall comfort me
for mine."
When Sunshine Saxton stole into ihe
hastily prepared nursery for a last look
at the three sleeping children late that
Christmas night, her face had a look of
deep content which promised well for
her future and for tliat of her new
found treasures.
"It is always so," she whispered.
" '(iive and it shall be given to you * *
* * good measure. It was so little I
tried to give this morning, and see what
has been measured back to me!"
She pressed a kiss upon each tear
stained face and went, out with Christ
inas peace iu her heart.—Ella, Beecher
Gittings, in Chicago Advance.
A CHRISTMAS JOKE.
Ilinv Grimmer'* Angt-r Wn* Turned
to .lo}~ "A liilc MrmolJnhlnsc «
Christmas Present.
"Funniest Christmas scene I ever
witnessed was only a year ago,"
laughed the broker whose laugh is all
the more cheery because he made a
recent hit in wiieat.
"Grimmer lives next door to me, you
know. Peculiar old,gentleman, but he
has a. heart as big as a Yankee cheese,
if you only know the way to reach it.
Last Christmas 1 was sitting at the
window when. I saw Grimmer come
storming out of the house with a lit
tle hair trunk on his He
slammed it down so hard that the lid
Hew about on one hinge and then went
on a dog trot to the barn, returning
with an ax. As the air began to till with
fur and splinters, I went out to ascer
tain the trouble.
" 'l'll tell you,' the old man yelled, in
a defiant tone. 'l'll tell everybody and
anybody. Put it in the papers if you
want to. The old skinflint of tin. uncle
of mine sent the trunk hist month. At
the same time I received a letter from,
him insisting that the trunk was-not
to be opened till Christmas. I opened
her all right enough, as soon, as I had
breakfast. What do you think there
was in it? A lot of old literary frum
pcry that no secondhand book store
would handle and more cockroaches
than you could putin a peck measure.
I guess 1 wasn't, mad,' and the old gen
tleman let go with ihe ax as though
he were trying to fell a bullock. 'Out
rageous insult,' and this time the
wreckage was completed.
"In the false bottom exposed there
were government bonds, greenbacks
and quarts of gold. Grimmer stared
and then sat down in a collapse. It was
an hour before he was himself again
and then there were tears chasing each
other down the wrinkles of his face as
he wrote the 'old skinflint uncle.' You
never saw such a whirl as we had at
Grimmer's that night."—Detroit i'ree
Press.
PRINCES' HOLIDAY SHOPPING.
The Children of the German 10m
lieror Are Tiiiijtht the Ynlue
of Money.
Writing of "Christmas with an Em
peror," Xagel von Brawe gives this in
teresting description in the Ladies'
Home Journal of the ceremonies at
tendant upon the great feast day in
the German palace: "The royal chil
dren have exchanged gifts chosen with
much solicitous deliberation at a well
known toy shop. Anyone happening to
be in the shop at the time might have
seen the empress enter with her chil
dren, each provided with his own purse,
and completing his purchases aside so
that the others might be surprised.
The younger three princes demanded
the advice of their mother in their se
lections. The princes investigated
everything, but upon inquiring the
price generally found it too dear.
'Three marks for this book-rack?' and
with a glance into his purse. 'No, that
is too expensive. 1 haven't over "5 pfen
nigs. What can you give me for that
price?' And the shopgirl proceeds to
show the prirtees something quite nice
for the required amount.
"Ilut now the brothers and sister have
exchanged thanks for their gifts; the
first impetuosity of the Christmas re
joicings litis given place to a more tran
quil examination and inspection, and
ladies and gentlemen of the court have
made the rounds in a general state of
admiration. Lackeys prepare a colla
tion in the midst of the gifts, for which,
however, t he young people find no time.
It fares with them as with all healthy
children in the excitement attendant on
Christmas Eve, for they are healthy and
genuine German children. The Christ
mas celebration in the Shell salon, the
excitement and the rejoicings have pro
duced their natural reaction on them,
and at nine o'clock even the elder
princes are abed."
THEIR FIRST CHRISTMAS TIRKEY.
Hiilfeffc)
Mr. Honeymoon (somewhat liesi- !
tatingly)—My dear, what a queer taste
to this turkey. What do you suppose
ails it?
Mrs. Honeymoon (boo-hooing)—Why
darling, you don't blame me, do you
if it isn't just right ? I took till the pains
in the world with it, even to the stuffing
with cranberries, which mamma, told
me always go with roast turkey.
A ClirlMtnifiM I - *(>Imo(1
Tom- Marie jumped six feet when 1
told her she was standing under the
mist letoe.
.Tack —Then you didn't k.ss her?
"Oh. yes; she jtiinpcd in my direc
*'ou " —Brooklyn I.ife.
OUARPIAN"-CHRISTTIAS TREES
a visit to that wonderful land where Christmas trees grew, and how often I
asked my father to take me there.
"It i.s too far away for little boys togo, but maybe
when you grow to be a man you will be able to visit Christ
mas tree land," was always the consoling answer which I
received.
J y ast summer I visited Christmas tree land, and as I
traveled through the great forests, first on the Grand
Trunk railway and afterward on foot, I thought of the de
sire of my childhood to see that identical spot. It was away
up in northern Canada, north of Georgian Bay, that I found
this wonderful land, and there seemed to be Christmas trees
enough to give each little girl and boy in all the world one for their very own.
There were wee little trees for the very little ones who had just come from
Babyland; there were larger ones for the little pirls and boys, and there were
great large ones for Santa Clans to use when he chooses to have his little folks
and big folks get their presents from him together.
But the prettiest thing I saw in this Christinas tree land was a little gold-
en-haired girl, and
everheard of Christ
she told me as she
front of her log
of one of those
Back front Lake
ince of Ontario,
after mile of forest
great trees rise to
drcd feet in height,
the lumbermen cut
and then when the
the spring drives
away they float the
swollen creeks
lakes to the mills to
ber. But scattered
great trees there
little trees that are
S - \ l p K
■i '
to pather for the little folks, who do not live where the Christmas trees grow,
just before the merry Christmas time.
As I drew the little girl to my knee in front of the rude cabin door, and
brushed the pretty golden curls from her forehead, I asked her if she liked the
great trees among which she lived.
"Oh, yes, I do," she said. "I like to watch my
where Santa Clans can get them quite easily."
"And what do you suppose Santa Claus does with
these little trees?"
"My mamma says he takes them to the little girls
and boys who live away off where there are no Christ
mas trees, and he takes them down their chimneys
and puts lots of toys and candy and books and other
pretty things on them if they are good little folks,
and, oh, I like so much to have Santa Claus get them
to take to the little folks who haven't any Christ
mas trees like I have.
"All the time when my mamma lets me go out of
doors I watch my papa cut the big trees and tell him which way he must have
them fall so that they won't hurt the little trees, for if one of them was to get
broken there might not Vie enough togo 'round, and then some little girl or
boy would not have a Christmas tree on Christmas morning.
"And sometimes other men come to cut the big trees and they are not so
careful as my papa is not to hurt the little trees, and some of them get broken,
and then I always cry. But my mamma tells me that Santa Claus has more
little trees than he needs, and that all the good little folks will have one any-
way, but I am so
"I most believe
right," I said, "for
where I came from
tie Christmas trees ,
"And do you live
mas trees don't
"And don't all the
and boys have one
I was sorry for
some were slighted
and explained to
about the many lit
cities where it is
ble for Santa Claus to get to all of them, and then tried to ease the pain by
saying that many of these little ones were not badly disappointed, because
they had never heard of Christmas and Santa Claus.
"Oh, but you will tell them," she cried, with tear drops in her pretty blue
eyes. "And I shall ask my papa to tell Santa Claus to be careful and not
1^
HEN I was hilt a little fellow, to whom the le
gends of childhood were dear, I resided with
my parents in one of the central states where
the beautiful pine tree is practically unknown.
Each Christmastide brought with it what was,
to me, an unfathomable mystery.
"Papa, where does Santa Clans pet all his
Christmas trees ?" I was wont to ask on each
Christmas morning- as I viewed the little tree
covered with prettily colored candles and papers,
and laden with the mementos of the holiday sea
son for ray baby sister and myself.
"lie pets th m in the great forests, far to the
north, where he iives with his reindeer," always
explained my father.
I can still remember how often I wished for
papa cut them and hear the noise when they fall.
And then the men come with the big oxen and haul
them to the creek down there and they are floated
away. But I like the little trees best, I think."
"And why," I asked, "do you like the little
trees best ?"
"Because they are Santa Claus' trees."
"And does Santa Claus come and get them ?"
I asked again.
"Yes, every winter, just before Christmas
' time. My papa never
» cuts the little trees until
just before Christmas
time, and then when he
does he piles them up
very carefully, and the
men come with sleds and
haul them to the lake
miss any of them next Christmas."
As she ran away to tell her mamma of the
little folks whom Santa Claus sometimes missed
I thanked her in the name of all the little girls
and boys in the United States for her watchful
northern woods. Wasn't that rig-lit?
WRIGHT A. PATTERSON.
9
the prettiest story I
mastide was 011 e
sat on my knee in
home in the midst
great forests.
Joseph, in the prov
there stretches mile
land on which the
more than a hun-
These great trees
in the winter time,,
warm sunshine of
the snow of winter
great logs down thu
and through the
be sawed into lum*
all among these
are thousands of
left for SantaClafss
afraid they won't."
your mamma is
the good little folks
nearly all have lit
like these."
where the Christ
grow ?" she asked,
good little girls
every Christmas?"
my intimation that
by the good saint,
her as best I could
tie folks in the big
sometimes impossi-
care of the little
Christmas trees
that grow around
her home in the