H y iSS ) ®AIR morn In whose far slcy Is firmly set B ' IPH if 'The steadfast star of Faith our feet to guide; My(V Hi JP B Sweet day wherein are Love and Sorrow met Vgl To challenge Hatred and to level Pride; ®R?Cj =CwKp >1 . We welcome you with palms upturned In pralsa J»SY ' jiti&fr fa J Of Him whose gift has gladdened all our days. ( * 112i 0W manifold His works to-day appear. Tjflf " How multiplied His blessings everywhere; jfflf All we have seen and known throughout the year .. J Comes back to prove His tenderness and care; And clearer visloned in all signs we see isj Sfo&'M . The purpose of the Man of Galilee. JaflwMn- w. CACH perfect snowflake. trustful of His power, it® IXbnd That finds Its way adown the trackless air, l,|^ Brings Its glad message in this eladsomo hour. Ijtf* « r "I shall return," It sings, " no matter whera j|b% I chance to fall; within my cnrstal shell Is that which triumphs over death and helL" /jL 1 9a) \ Y as this pure blossom of the upper air, So chants the soul of man upon this day, Sv\ flfr* ' |gr*< Whr.t though the year has been a round of care, vTy*/v The hidden wing 3 will find the upward way JPLXt */%/ As surely as the flake to mist shall run, mf{k II //' And so return all joyous to the sun. CACH gracious flower that made the Summer sweet V'},l Has gone alone into the house of Death; £ jjT \ ? But somewhere hidden 'neath the Winter s sleet, X Itself lies waiting for the south wind's breath. JMgL V- 'Lv+ TK So He who bore the cross for all men lay IHa JSK Till angels came to roll the stone away. /Tr-i ' ft BLESSED promise of that blessed birth! fKp< What 13 there sprung from air-encompassed earth /Vy' [/ \J/ But proves the Lord who in the grave they laid ? K,,U/ G°, winged winds, to rouse the voiceful sea VLff,j/ ' To sing the praise of Him of Galilee I CHARLES EUGENE BATIKS. A... Christmas Love Story ry CHARLES MOREAU HARGER SANTA CLAUS BY PROXY r TC" r IFTY miles, sixty miles, seven- F t>" miles—seventy-three miles! The indicator in the roadmas ( !.'%?■ ■ ) ter's ear attached to the ovcr land flyer showed that the train i was making swift time across the level plains. Ahead, in the Pullman, passengers scarcely noticed the speed. They were wishing the long winter night were over and were thinking of cozy firesides back east. Frank Martin left the indicator with out n word to the roadmaster, whose guest he was for the trip to his ranch, went for ward for the tenth time that evening. He looked anxiously up the aisle of the Pull man. There she was —petite, dark-haired, pensive, alone. After a moment of indecision he ap proached her. "May I bring you something from the dining car?" "Nothing, thank you; I am doing very well." What was the use? She had only nod ded when he encountered her on the train. I, '"-MM 111 I,?! . til "MAY I BRING YOU SOMETHING?" It was quite an accident that they mot j thus after their intimacy at the seashore. He did not know tiiat she was going to j a new home with her mule in California. She would not let him explain the past. It was almost time for him to get off at his ranch—for tiie train was making 73 miles an hour! How lie wished it would slow up! Hardly had the thought passed through his mind, when there was a jolt—a crunch ing, grinding sensation, a lurch—and then suddenly stopping. No one who has been in a wreck will ever forget it. The Pullman tipped sidewise, and that was the end. Marvin was at Alice's side when it was over. He took her arm, and, looking into her white face, calmed her fears: "It is oil light now —off the track —no more dan ger." Ife left her, to help the passengers in the Bmoker who were imprisoned and some what injured, then returned. He gathered her baggage, and, without permission, told her to follow. With the remainder of the passengers they took up a cold and sorrowful tramp along the track across the bleak prairies to the little town, three miles away, where lights twinkled a friendly greeting. Frank tried to be sociable. "It w r as a Barrow escape," he ventured. "Yes." Nothing more. She would not even turn her face toward his in the moon light. They trudged on in silence. The town was glad to see them. It gave them the best it had, and none suffered. Hut its heart was not wholly in the work. One long-gaited citizen, evidently orig inally from the south, explained it: "Yeh see, we 's a-goin' ter hev' the Chris'mas doin's tcrnight at th' hall." "What? I'd forgot that it was Christmas eve," broke in Marvin. "Let's all go over. I'he passengers from the Pullman car, find ing that they could not continue their journey until the following day, as well as many of the others, agreed. Well bun dled up, they took their walk through the chilly streets, where blew the bitter north wind of the plain. The hall was nothing more than the upper room over a store. It was tilled to the aisles, but the exercises had not yet begun. The southerner, who was master of ceremonies, tiptoed back to Marvin. "We need two more to help in the doin's," he whispered. "Won't you tin's come?" Frank laughingly arose, and the dainty Miss lteisen, having no other choice, fol lowed him. Behind the curtain, what a sight met their gaze! A Christmas tree it was, to be sure. There were 110 evergreens nearer than the mountains, and to make up for the deficiency the plainsmen had secured a dry cottonwood and wound its straggling branches with green paper. The appear ance would have been ludicrous had it not been a little pathetic. "Xot much like the pines of the beach where we used to rest last summer," whis- I peied Frank to bis companion. "You and the other—l presume you mean," was the withering response. "Alice —Miss Rcisen, what do you mean —" but the gaunt captain interrupted. "You, young lady, I'd like you to be the fairy. Our leadin' lady is sick, an' £ou look like her." Entering into the spirit of the occasion, Miss lteisen accepted the task. "You'll have to wear some wings, and there will be a little scene, but nothin' fer you to do but look pretty—you don't need no coacliin'," be added, gallantly. "Great admirer of yours," suggested Frank, as the functionary moved away. Alice did not reply. The "wings were brought, and they seemed almost large enough for the wearer to soar with. She put on the costume and danced a two-step across tiie rude stage. "Veil mustn't do that, lady; this is fer th' benefit ot th' churches, an' th' folks wouldn't like it," said the manager, with a grin. Then came up one of the women of the town, who seemed to have a part of the management. She gave some instructions as to what would happen, and Miss lleisen listened intently. Another listened, but she did not know it. The programme of the evening opened with a number of songs and recitations, to which the passengers from the train gave tiie most earnest attention and hearty ap plause. Marvin seemed wonderfully at home, lteisen thought, and was call ing men by their first names as if he knew them. lie was behind the scenes a good deal; too much, she thought, also, and it worried her, for he was the only one in aIT the house that she counted 011 as a friend— no, was he a friend? She wished she knew if the story her chum told her were false or true. Then came the time for the Christmas tree "doin's," as the manager called the exercises. The big curtain was dropped, and the children of tiie prairie farms and ranches gave an audible "Oh!" as the beau tiful green-paper-wrapped cottonwood, lighted with candles and glistening with tinsel, all brought from the city 400 miles away, burst on their eyes. Many of them had never seen an evergreen, and this was a fulfillment of all tiieir anticipations. Before the tree stood ,*e fairy, her wings and robe making her almost ethereal in the sight of the little ones. Behind was the open mouth of a chimney, and far off rang the horn of Saint Nicholas as lie approached over the housetops on bis sleigh. It was cold enough outside for his biggest furs, and when he came laboriously down the chimney and stood amid the group on the* stage he was the very picture of the Santa Claus of their dreams. Swiftly he made the rounds of the tree, and in gutural tones told the little folks to help themselves. Then he did what wa* CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1901. not on the bill9—he approached the fairy, and in the same rough voice exclaimed: "You are togo with me on my travels to night. Come." For a moment she stood irresolute, not knowing if this were part of the programme. Then, thinking it must be, 6he took the heavily-gloved hand, and, with a bow to the audience, stepped back and back, until both were swallowed up in the vast depth of the chimney. liut they did not go upward. Santa Claus opened a door in the rear, and they were outside the noisy hall and in the dressing room. Suddenly Santa Claus stripped off the heavy wings and crown from the fairy, and handed her her furs. "Come with me," he said, masterfully. "What do you mean?" she replied. "This,"and lie threw down the mask and wig, the fur coat and heavy gloves—before THE SANTA CLAUS OF THEIR DREAMS. her stood Frank Marvin. "I asked you to come with me on my travels, and you con sented, as you did once before—but this time it is for life." Alice Keisen laughed a little hys terically. "But you know what happened before, Frank." The last word was a caress, so tenderly was it spoken. "Yes, I know from what you said a little while ago—you thought my sister was an other girl in whom I was interested. There was and can be no other girl but you." And then they talked it all over, for good. The candy and toys were distributed from the green-paper-wrapped tree when they returned to the hall. They did not remain long, but went out under the stars and to the little parsonage across the way. Frank had sent a friend for a license, and in a trice they were married. A team and carriage were at the door, and away 'they were whirled through the beautiful but crisp prairie night. "To the ranch," ordered Frank, and then added: "It was a miracle that the train stopped right here in my own town. The big ranch-house is ablaze with light out there, and all is ready for you." So the train went on toward the moun tains without two of its passengers. "Do you know," whispered Frank, as the team drew up to the ranch-house, almost a mansion out there on the plains, "that I re ceived the best Christmas present of all to-night?" "But you had to be your own Santa Claus to get it," laughed Alice. THE POLITIC MAIDEN. i ' '■ 112 I _ /r ' ... "I hear that you and George have quar reled." "Well, I guess not. It's altogether too near Christmas." An Eye for Ihe Prc«ei»t, Miss Smoothe —Xo, I cannot give you my answer until the first of next year. Mr. Softleigh—But, why? You say you love me, and— Miss Smoothe—Why, you silly thing! If our engagement were announced now, none of the other men would send me a single Christmas gift.—Baltimore American. Christmas Forestry. All trors man should love, but his life's dearest Joys Should circle that tree which blooms canolia ar.d toys. —Chicago Record. An Afterthous'ht. "John," asked Mrs. Torkins, tearfully, "do you remember the present Mrs. l'age gave me last Christmas?" es," replied her husband; "what of it?" "[ am almost sure T have sent it to her this year."—Brooklyn T.ifc. A ftormnth, We learn to kr.ow at Christmas Life still is full of Ills; To-day we get the presents, N. Xt week we g-i the bills. —Judge. One Token Unrred. "Dearie, what do you want me to give you for Christmas?" "Well, precious, I've got 11 framed pho tographs of you now."—Detroit Free Press. Wnll from the Old Roy. Don't offer costly gifts with which That Christmas tree is hung; Just give me back the appetite I had when I wag young. —Chicago Record. I iicrednlons. Mamma—Santa Claus only comes to good boys. Johnny—Huh! If he did he wouldn't have to hustle much to get around.—Puck THE GOSPEL OF PEACE. MANKIND DID NOT FULLY UNDERSTAND IT UNTIL CHRIST WAS BORN. TiTIIAT is tenderest and best in the heart of man is evoked when ( JISSf \ the keys of memory arc touched V . 'vU'r'lx is sounded. It is the music of the home and the loved, a glad, if subdued, melody recalling the earliest days of recol lection—an eager rush for well-tilled pend ant stockings, for the laden Christmas tree, with its gifts for all of the household. Aye, and the eager rushing about the house with merry shout and joyous greeting for all. Then, the home-coming of the absent and the gathering of all about the family board. Whether the corridors of our memory mansions be long or short—our lives be many or few, the harmonies ring along them just the same, telling of the presence in the heart of that which is old as immortality, and which shall never die —love. There, then, this Christmas day, that Christmas day, and every Christmas day, is present in the heart this love for the home, with its inmates, for friends and for humanity. The Christ-day practice of opening the heart to unselfish influences is born of the teachings of Him whose birth the day commemorates. His the life beautiful, the life rounded, the only completely perfect life. He taught the lessons of love, gentle ness, mercy, compassion, forgiveness, be nevolence, chastity and self-denial. What is higher and best in humanity is of His teaching, and from the latter has come the Christian home, the best development of unseliish affection and contentment to be found among men. The Christ-day is attuned to melody that ever shall thrill the soul and cause it to bring forth what is best in it. The herald song of the angels to the shepherds on the plain is fresher, stronger, closer, more harmonious than ever, in the light of the newer blessings which have come from the Gospel of His peace. The lesson of real humanity, refined, Divine altruism, and not the coarser sort sometimes called by this ON THE PLAINS OF BETHLEHEM. name, was unheard of until from His peace on the Mount of Beatitudes He gave it forth, music sweeter than angels ever sang, that higher song that man lives not unto • imsclf alone, and that the greatest happi ness is that which comes of doing good unto others. Peace on earth! good will to men! That higher song which lifts man above himself and makes him but little lower than the angels. The Christ theme will never die. First heard on the plains of Bethlehem, with the frowning llerod-temple but three miles away, within whose walls were heard the teachings of tiie law of revenge and love of self, heard there for the first time, it has been sounding ever since, spreading wider and wider, until now it compasses the whole earth, la Christ's day Koine had waxed to its noon of majesty, yet Home passed and was not. On that kingdom rose other kingdoms, which perished in their turn. Since lie lived one system after another sys tem of philosophy has been built up, only to be torn down again. But the words of the Christ be and abide,and they shall stand forever, influencing men to nobler lives ariu higher results in living. His Kingdom is an everlasting Kingdom, and of its dura tion there shall be no end. Meet and right is it, then, that the Christ-day shall be one of gladness in the human heart; that the children shall take part in it, since He loved them and blessed them, and that gifts shall be exchanged in token of that love for one another, which He bore for all humanity. WILLIAM ROSSER COCBE. Shattered Iler Ideals. Miss Askit—Why is Miss Wunder so pessimistic about Christmas? Miss Tell it—She hung up a sl2 pair of silk hose last year, and some one stole them. —Baltimore American. r r ' ; i:. ' I!,!<&?• I, ... !• #• "■:■ t\ ■'jl J? '■ ;> fa .. I, ~11 %*■„ ' Il - "f* i ' ; M'• •' ? 112 JlipPsH: * ff i If/% w,a/ '• « '«& &. i ,JP® . ) 010 1 MR. DAVIDSON'S COAT. A CHRISTMAS EPISODE WITH AN UNEX PECTEDLY DISMAL ENDING. HRISTMAS was a great time in the Davidson family, an event I I prepared for in secrecy for v months. It was the desire of xf 7 - y Mr. Davidson's heart to succeed in surprising his wife in the matter of bis selection of a Christmas gift for her, and it was his wife's pride that in all the 20 years of their married life he had never yet gained his wish. In consequence of this, it was somewhat exasperating that the clock had struck "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY A JOKE?" eight on this particular Christmas eve and she had not yet discovered the hiding-place of to-morrow's gift. "He must know that I want diamonds this time," she mused. "Why, I have crit icized the vulgar display Mrs. Jonesmith makes of them, and talked of the waste of money their purchase implies until he must have been impelled to buy me some out of sheer contrariety. But where did he hide them? That —" A knock at the door interrupted her train of thought, and a particularly unin viting chap asked for old clothes in a robust whine. The influence of the season was upon Mrs. Davidson, however, and she gave him an old overcoat which her husband thought lie might sometime wear when lie went hunting. lie never did go hunting, but he lived as if he always expected to start early the next morning. "Xo, I just can't think where he has put that gift;" she said, returning to her chair and her thoughts. "Well, one comfort, he hasn't seen the cuff links and the meer schaum pipe 1 have for him. I've moved their hiding-place twice a week, so he has had no chance to find them while rum maging in the waste paper basket for his clean collars or searching in the china closet for his necktie, which are always kept in the upper left-hand bureau drawer. What's that!" The front door had opened cautiously and a stealthy step went up the stairs and stole across the floor of the room above. Mrs. Davidson turned pale, then softly clapped her hands. "It's Tom going to take a peep at my present! I'll keep quiet and lind out where it is." She heard the steps about the room, and held her breath until they paused before the chiffonier. "Ah, it is in the drawer that Tom said had stuck and would not open. Why did I never think of that before?" She listened until the cautious footsteps came down the stairs and the front door softly opened and shut. Thensherose in her triumph. "Aha, he has slipped out to come in a few moments later, thinking that 1 did not hear him. I'll slip up now, have a peep at my diamonds and a good joke on him in the morning!" She went upstairs and lit the gas; it flared up and a scream burst from her. The room was in confusion; drawers were upset and their contents scattered on the floor. As she screamed, .the front door opened and her husband came running upstairs. "Well, Tom Davidson, if you think this is a joke, I don't!" she cried. "To slip in this way and play a trick on your wife is—" "What on earth do you mean by a joke?" "Tom Davidson, you don't mean to say that I didn't hear you come upstairs 13 minutes ago to look at my present and—" "You certainly did not. Hello!" He strode across the room and lifted a drawer of the chiffonier which was upside down on the bed. "As I came up the block, I met the ugliest tramp I ever saw, and I could have sworn that he wore my old coat. You simply sat there while he rifled the place and car ried off the diamond pin 1 had gotten for j your Christmas gift!" When she had quieted down a little and j Mr. Davidson was telephoning for the police, j his wife suddenly remembered that the last [ hiding-place for the cuff links and the meer- | schaum pipe was the breast pocket of that old coat. ELISA ARMSTRONG BENGOUGH. LUi A, A CHRISTMAS ACCIDENT. IT PROVES THAT VANITY SOMETIMES IS ITS OWN PUNISHMENT. _ONERTY is the best policy," sighed Florence, "especially when i 1 Christmas ' s near," she added. ifciZ "Which means?" queried her dearest friend, eagerly. "Which means that my vanity is too near the tip of my tongue for my own good. Luckily that is a common complaint, how ever, else I'd never mention it." "Oh, I understand, you expected some body to give you a handsome present, and sent an equally handsome one on the chance. Oh, well, comfort yourself; per haps she really believed the price £ou had marked upon it." "That wasn't it at all. You remember that Dick went abroad early in the fall, don't you?" "1 do —he has told me every incident of his trip everytime I have met him since his return." "Of course—what else did he go abroad for! Well, he came to see me the day that he went away. He—he told me what a pretty little hand I have." "Ah, well, you mustn't expect people to always mean what they say." "I am glad that some people do not, dear. I just mentioned the fact that I always wore a No. C glove—Oh, if you are going to take it in that way—l am sure that I al ways did until I was 16 years old!" "Oh, but that—" "I am glad that you have the grace to apologize, dear. Well, Dick failed to bring me a present when he came back, but I was just as sweet and nice as ever, because Christmas was so near that —" "There wasn't time to quarrel and make up, especially, with a man who is as pop ular as Dick." "No. When Christmas eve arrived he came to call, with a box in his pocket, which bulged so plainly that I could see it with my back turned. He drew it out at last just as my patience was exhausted, and, Oh, Anne, it was two dozen pairs of gloves that he had brought me from Paris!" "Oh, how perfectly lovely of him!" "It would have been, but for the fact that they were number sixes, and each pair had my monogram embroidered on it, so that I could not exchange them!" "Oh, dreadful! What could be worse?" "That he insisted upon seeing me put a pair of them on!" SEASONABLE ECONOMY. "Hea"*ens, man, how do you happen to patronize a free lunch counter?" "Case of necessity, old boy. My wife and the girls have been out Christmas shop ping." I'p Ronton Wny, "And what," asked the caller in his most ingratiating tones, "what did Santa Claus putin your stocking, my little girl?" For a moment she looked at him through her diminutive spectacles; then, in a voice of mingled pity and indignation, she said: "We no longer put credence in obsolete tra dition; nor was it delicate of you to men tion that article of feminine apparel." Gathering up her copy of Ibsen, she hur riedly left the room.—New Lippincott. A Mean TrleU. O the doctor he was sad Ar.d the doctor he was mad, And the doctor ripped and tore and roared, alack! Some rogue had gone and stuck In the doctor's sock a duck That every time you touched it murmured! "Quack! Quack! Quack!" —Chicago Times-Herald. Giving Him n Chiinoe. "Harriet, you ought to give me my choice of a Christmas present once in awhile." "Well, Harry, I'm willing; do you want a lamp-shade, a sofa pillow or new lace curtains ?"—Ch icago Record. Inevitable, The seasons come, the seasons go— Christmas is here before we know It, Wlier we must lake our hard-earned cash And indiscriminately blow it. —Puck. 9
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers