lft I LE „ AN back in m y arm-chair as the snow-flakes soft and white %
J|J Clothe the hilltops and the valleys in habiliments of white, ifl
While the cutting winds of winter send their music far and wide* jf
|T Disputing with the mellow bells the joys of Christmas-tide ;
1 seem to catch the echoes of the songs they sing on high, ft
Beyond the mystic beauty of December's vaulted sky. il/
/M And again is told the story of the Christ-child's humble birth, ffTl
\±. As I sit and. eager, listen by the dear old Christmas hcurti;. m
\P THERE s music in the steeples, there are chimes deep in the.dells,
7# And the wild winds mingle gladly with the holy Christmas bells, •4K
And I look beyond the window on the beauty of the snow. N/7
Recalling so.-no sweet Christmases in life's fair " long ago ; " M
L What scenes come floating back along the winding ways of Time, (|j
!y Like the fragrance of the flowers of an ever-cherished clime ; W
Till my chamber fills with faces and I hear the sounds of mirth
That brighten with infectious glee the happy Christmas hearth. (\
/ J SEE six little stockings hanging in a pretty row. '
ifjn We hung them round this cherished hearth one twilight long ago, fit
\lljl And we laughed and nestled closer 'neath the old roof-tree of home, |)
And hardly slept for watching for old Santa Ciaus to come ; J
J'lP I remember, ah! who does not? how the sunny Christmas morn \[k
Revealed the wealth of treasure from the doll to drum and horn — jjT
/K How the house was filled with laughter till it seemed to shake the earth,
Wl While brighter glowed the fire upon the old Christmas hearth. ji
/jrt fO-DAY there seems to come to me across the fleecy snow vj
I St The beauty and the glory of that Christmas long ago, Jn
A When shepherds watched their gentle flocks upon the hills afar, 111
/jjj In the heaven-tinted splendor of the East's transcendent star ; /rf
fi® I see a mother bend above a matchless cherub face. (jy
'/Sy And a radiance not earthly drives the shadows from the place; L
1/3/ Till Judea wakes to glory and new beauty crowns the earth, tf
J|L And the choristers of Heaven sing about my Christmas hearth. T)|
j ALD Time seems in his dotage and upon his tresses white jL
JL Lie the snowflakes of a Christmas that has filled me with delight; (S
fly Far and wide the bells are ringing, and their music, glad and free, M
Tells the story of His coming on the land and on the sea ; li
w And mingled with their anlhems is that chorus all divine m
i That filled a mother's heart with joy one night in Palestine ; iV
) And I bow my head a moment as the children check their mirth, ffj
l And silence comes to sanctify the dear old Christmas hearth, tu
T BLESS the glorious dawning of this queenly winter day, jl
It brings to all a gladness from a region far away, Am
And while the bells are ringing over all this beauteous earth V
i I bless the loves that cluster round the dear old Christmas hearth. 8)
. T. C. HARBAUGH. ft
A Christmas
Comedy of Errors
By ELISA ARMSTRONG BENOOUGH.
06WHKHK,' now, we are all ready
for Christmas," said Mrs.
Slickerby, as she climbed stiir
ly down from the chair on
which she had been standing to deck the
chandelier with holly. "How surprised
Josiah will be when he comes in, cold and
tiled, to find the place looking so like
holiday times. 1 declare, 1 have a good
—ja
" It's Your New Set of Furs!"
mind to make a (ire in the stove just to
piia-e him; he kept asking for it no long—
though, cunt to tliink of it, lie hasn't
mentioned it lately, though 1 always told
him it only made a dirt lor me to elean
up and the furnnee heated the whole
piace anyhow. lie said his mother u-ed
to have a nice lire in the stove when they
came in evenings. Of i our.«e, »i c,j ; ,J ; ] m
mother never siw a furnace n her life,
and wouldn t have known it lroni a tele
phone if »he had." She paused, «,'tii
her hands on her hip*, to admire the re
sult of her l.ihorn. "Yes, I gue.a | will
lig -1 a lire in that utove, anyhow, it will
•en i- at a text fur more remarks about the
cold and a few more hints as to how I
do ne. I a in v -i-t «t luis tin * Chrituia*.
•losiah is .t good man, lull lie is as elo»e
when it come* to a '|»e*tiun of money a.
a potato U to it* akin."
Khe was (mating about a* she talked,
making her preparation* to lig>jt a lire in
the brilliantly poll.lied atove "There 1
j" "• " ; • "•••'• '• I«»*d tha
« . if «' »i.til il>t *ll tlfit I ~l|
fiht 1 up with pit,«rs and tia- i, after all
my Miking it tin- seam a- u j„ u , 4U » t
ttaeh a man to lie caieful about a iiou*«
any inori than vou can teach a hen tn
pla) 'ii»«k<i-' \. v. r mind, I'll ju»i la.
»> k «<' >"« of the traab Li Z
acid i hrutnia* i- not tha time for *. old
ing, anyhow tin iu i w n-n you've g„t t ,
Jive »it!i a WMI It'a l»»t tot ilt* r\ r ,y
A« tha I're to crackle eio'.-u u ||y,
inqed rupb 'ird in tha corner n ,
i«*> * a -i ti«| .*•«
ho puts it over his knees in the buggy
this winter—and the furs are not in the
house, I know that, for I've been Over
every square inch of it in hopes I'd find
Ihe d hidden 'em somewhere." She had
i unfolded a wonderful combination of c >l
- in wool which would have made Jo
seph's coat a somber garment by compari
son, and looked at it with great admira
j tion. Then she carefully replaced it."l
don't know as it's just necessary to keep
it away up there—he wouldn't see it if
it was right under his nose. Dear me, 1
certainly smell something burning. I
| wonder if it can be my cake i.i the oven,
I I had almost forgotten it, with all these
other things on my mind."
' There comes Josiah now!" she cried
; ten minutes later, as she heard the tfobr
of the sitting room open. "I'll stay out
here and see what he does. Well, surely
; he must be pleased with the decorations
i end the lire in the stove. It sounds as if
i iie was doing a jig all over the room —and
| him a professing Christian, too!"
Five minutes later later she opened the
fitting room door and stood transfixed on
the threshold. "Why, Josiah Slickerby,
what on earth is the matter?" she
shrieked. "You are as black as a sweep
and your beard is all singed, and what is
ihat awful smell in here, and w-what is
that you have in your hand?"
"It's your new set of furs, that's what
it is." retorted Josiah, grimly, "a good set
u - furs that cost a lot of money, too, and
looking like a cat that had been sitting on
a can ot firecrackers when they went off!"
"Hut how on earth could—"
"1 had hid 'em in the stove, ; hat's how!
you said you'd never make another fire in
it now we've got a furnace, and 1 hid 'em
in it. so's 1 could surprise you for ChrUt-
I mas!"
"Well, goodness knows, you have eur
j prised me!"
"Yes, and when I came into this room it
was all full of smoke, and flames were
bursting out of the stove door, it was so
full, and i: I hadn't kept my presence of
mind and hunted out that old thing to
smother the flames with, the whole place
mii;!it have been burned!" And he held
ii| the afghan, which was scarcely in Let
ter condition than the furs!
IT «\ \ IIK HONK \\ l l lIOCT.
< a|»t M ikeluve Uu'. •ureiy you dm't
■ lij. • • to K" under tint uuatletui, Mm*
< I i '
M-• •» i. \«■ I Jo, SS bu tier
•buui tUv mi*ll*(oe?
I'llV 111 Ulll 111 llvlil'Kl-t ,
tint Malwl I* xi tbiiugbtful abuul b*r
Ilelie lii wii«l way, i|c«r*
• l»i«t Al».i> - | I In' |irir« Itn an m
«• '•« «>' me • trip iluwu to««» tu liud
A> i*~ • Luu.
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1902.
A Whole Dinner
- wtd
Mashed Potatoes
By JESSIE LLEWELLYN.
•
TIIE holiday rush kept us late, and
although thoroughly tired in mind
and body I felt no relief upon be
ing free to leave the crowded store
and return to my cheap boarding house.
Slowly 1 made my way among chattering
clerks, comfortable matrons and fashion
able young women to the rear exit. 1 was
horribly conscious of my frayed jacket,
and the lean leather chatelaine at my side.
"Christmas!" 1 smiled bitterly.
"Serves you right for not staying mar
ried," I could hear the last harsh words
of my maiden aunt as 1 left the sleepy
village to seek independence and self-re
spect.
"Other women?" rang the voice, "well,
men will be men; he makes a good living
for you, don't he?"
I heard the key turn in the great store
door, but still I remained on the step,
staling out at the lights tearfully rellect-
"Please, Mum, Gimme a Nickel?"
e<i in the wet pavement, when there came,
from somewhere below my waist line, a
small whine.
"Please, mum, gimme a nickel?"
I looked down and beheld the smallest,
dirtiest, most forsaken little woman I had
ever seen. She could have been no more
than seven, but there was endless weath- j
er tales in the hollows of her cheeks, and
I the over-bright black eyes bespoke knowl
-1 edge of liltJi and starvation and wretch
edness.
, "Kr a penny," she whined.
I 1 was half interested. A thought be-
I yond myself—and him—was welcome.
I "l'lease, mum—" she began again.
| There were just six cents in my pocket,
! for 1 had deposited my last dollar with |
the boarding-housekeej ♦ in ease the
! laundryman should call in my absence.
Notwithstanding the child's hardened
j little face there was an expression about I
j her wide mouth that attracted me. It j
! was almost motherly in its maturity.
Laying the nickel and the penny side by
i side in my hand, 1 said:
| "It is all I have, if you take the nickel
' I shall have to walk home, but if it is the
i penny you choose 1 may ride, and I am
! very tired."
j She shot an impudent, inquisitive glance
: at me,
I "Where d'youse live?" she asked,
i Mechanically 1 repeated my street num- j
i ber.
j "Ten blocks!" she scornfully replied. I
; "IJat's easy!" and swiftly grabbing the
nickel she darted around the corner.
The next day was Christmas, and 1 did !
not go down to breakfast, but lunched otl j
| soda crackers and some stale candjr in my i
loom.
i "Christmas! Christmas!" I repeated
the words to haunting memories, and I
1 am afraid 1 cried a little.
; Sume one tapped at my door.
I "Come in,"l called in quite a matter !
of fact tone. The door opened timidly, !
; and there on the threshold stood no other j
than my little beggar of the night be-|
j i'ore.
She was much embarrassed, but before I
I could welcome her one dirty paw shot out ;
suddenly like her quick glances, and in the
! begrimed little palm lay my nickel.
"I bringed it back," she stammered, 1
! " 'cause—cause —"
"Hecause?" 1 suggested, smiling.
"Jest 'cause I—l piped you.-e off as ;
kind o' on youse uppers youse own self,
and I ain't seemed t' sleep sound—"
| She got no further—this dirty, sinful, '
little waif, for I had gathered her up in
i my arms and was holding her very tight, j
i Some one eared! On that desolate Christ- 1
i mas some one actually cared!
! "Little woman," I said presently, laps- j
mg into the language of him who was
constantly in my thoughts, "there is one
dollar coming lo me, all on account of a
dcreliet laundryman. \\ hat would you i
rather have than anything else that a dol
lar can buy?"
"Has yotise got de dough, sure 'nough?"
1 nodded.
Instantly she answered me: "Say, what
'ud a w hole dinner cost, wid mashed po
tiWot's fer both of u»en»?"
We must have made a comical picture, '
my new friend anil I, as wc entered the
i|iiie', downtown restaurant. There was'
just one er p. rson seated there on this
» j,ri«tma» day a man over in the fhadow 1
of the corner.
Tne child It a 1 scrambled into a chair |
n .iti ; I'V t-ie head waiter, and 1 was
.bout to take my plac opposite, when
tiie iitati in tin- comer suddi-nljr ai> e.
I cannot, even now. remember IIOM it
all happened * o«ifusedly 1 -iw the young
ster* cm - grow round with wonder, and
ths lit >d waiter siill'd an esel.im.iiorjr
• nth, lor I, tiicie in the public rc»t*uiaut,
I 111 ' it trainer', urn.. And this
I lemeiiiiM-i dtitlintl) din man's most
"I .r K v«- nie, little woman, for not find-
I.IK >O.I MMMMM I havi- U#n -coming the!
land fur >ou. Nut a wotd, not a woid of
it *ll «... truth and it 1 l.ad that .a.k
ling uld maid sunt—"
A iuuirupted bun. It was the
y< uhgstti '»
A', i ei i 1* l*»it, he ltd
IU« trut la. I
CHRISTMAS HOLD-UP .SwS
' CHARLES MOREAU HARGER
(J fln A 17HAT about getting through
1 \\Av toni B ht > driver?"
1 \>Vi- "It's all right, I guess,
h Drifting some on the Lit
-6 tie Cimarron, but that wou't do uiuen
damage."
r "It's 30 miles."
"Well, that ain't much. This team's
j good for it. Gain' to start right off,
ma'am?"
The anxious traveler returned to the
fire in the uninviting office of the Mid
. Continental hotel. She was brown
-5 haired, cheery-faced, and evidently ac
customed to looking out for herself. She
. was bound for the Indian school at the
other end of the stage line —a position
> awaited her.
[ "All aboard!" called the driver, and
the passengers hurried into the three
. seated carryall that served for a stage.
, Ilie woman .sat beside John Carlin, the
owner of Circle liar ranche. lie tucked
the robes around her and remarked:
"Mighty poor day for a pleasure ride."
"Slightly," remarked his seat-mate,
j smiling, "and you know what day it is?"
| "\es, and we are likely to run over into
| Christmas, for the roads may keep us out
i until after midnight, ma'ain."
"Call me .Miss Macon—l'm the new in-
J stryctor."
"Better be prepared for whatever hap
j pens, Miss Macon; this is a tough stretch
j cl country across the territory."
i "Are the Indians bad?" ller eyes grew
I big and wondering.
i "\\ hites are a blamed sight worse than
redskins. We can handle Indians."
"But some good men go west —ve'ry
good men!" The eyes grew softer as she
recalled a memory of the days back east.
"\es; but, blame 'em, they don't stay
so."
1 he eyes flashed and she looked out over
the broad prairie, stretching away in
patches of brown and white to the 'far
I horizon. Nor did she renew the conversa-
I tion, and the handsome ranchman was
sorry.
'lhe day wore on. They stopped at a
cabin for lunch. They climbed long
slopes and toiled through sandy wastes
where in springtime would be rushing
rivers. They rattled down the declivi
ties of ravines and more than once the
weary horses were stalled in the drifts
that had been heaped among the dead
I sunflowers and ragweeds in the draws. It
j was a tiresome, cheerless journey, and the
j five passengers kept mostly their own im
| pressions of its discomforts.
| In the late afternoon Miss Macon broke
| the silence, taking up the thread of the
| morning's discussion: "An old friend of
(j '
_
" What About Getting Through Tonight ? "
mine is in the west—he was a daring
fellow, but a brave one."
"Then he is fitted for the west. Such
men are its pride—if they have the right
nays." Ho added the afterthought and
noticed that she started and studied liini
kwnly, as if to be certain that he meant
nothing of direct application-. "There is
more than one kind of bravery," lie went
on, more to keep up the conversation than
because the thought was original.
She did not answer, and the stage hur
ried on through the gathering darkness.
Once there was a coyote yell in the dis
tance, and Carlin felt a glow of satis
faction as the graceful form beside him
leaned closer to his ulster, as if for pro
tection.
Suddenly, as they went rattling down a
slope, the horses on the canter, the
sunflowers standing on either side of the
read like sentinels, there was a shot (ired
and a cry of "Halt!" They halted.
Then happened wi.at u ually happeu
when a masked group assaults the stage, j
and in a short time the live p&ssengers
wKmj/l I 'MB®* 11 TIB .*■' x
'• ® Js. ——> /Sonlu Cl.'ins ✓
k J JF -*~* f c *
Iff ff'
- f-. „
r«*' *»..• . t. %■
and the driver were standing in a lone
some row in the struggling moonlight.
"Hands up!" and their arms were ex
tended toward the stars. Miss Macon,
even in her terror, noticed that the con
stellation of Orion was nearly overhead.
And then the chief of the robbers came
to her side.
"Quick, ma'am, what have you got?"
Something in the tone aroused her and
she looked anxiously into the half-masked
face of the handsome frontiersman w'ho
bent toward her. "In New England men
" Well, It Ain't Right."
treat women with more oourtesy," she re
torted.
"You're from New England? What are
you doing out here?"
"I'm going to the agency—l'm Miss Ma
con, the new —"
The man stepped back as if he had been
struck by a mailed hand. He motioned to
his confederates to join him, but they llid
not see his signal. With a quick action of
impatience he swung his arm across his
face and the mask was for an instant dis
placed. Only for an instant, but it was
time for the bright moonlight to fall on
his clean-shaven features and for the
woman gazing intently at him to realize
that this was for her a time of fate.
She gathered herself together with an
effort that was worthy of a better cause,
and stepping closer to the bandit whis
pered one word. He, startled, trembled
and obeyed her swift instructions to step
behind the wagon, leaving the others to
guard the four remaining passengers.
"Oh, Frank, how could you?" she de- j
manded, reaching up to the strong face i
and lilting the mask. It was one she knew I
so well in the old days.
"Well, it ain't right," he admitted, J
shame facedly. "Hut who cares?"
"I care —everybody cares —your poor old
mother sitting alone in the little farm- j
house at Dan vers, cares. You don't know j
how much she cares —and Anna cares!" j
The man brushed his arm across his
face as if his eyes hurt him. "Yes, 1 sup- j
pose it's so. But things got mighty tough
—I bad to do something. It's the first ;
time. What can I do now?"
"Go home, Frank," went on the wom
an's low voice. "Go home to your moth- .
er, and help her run the farm. He a man ;
again."
"And Anna —your sistei ?"
"Frank, she has grieved for you all this
time —she wants you now."
"Hut," bitterly, "you will tell her about
—about—this?"
"I will do this, Frank. I will give you i
two years to prove yourself. If you are i
sincere, the secret will be yours and mine. :
If you do not, 1 will tell them of to-night j
and of —" , (
Siie turned toward the group they'had '
left in the moonlight beyond the wagon. ; i
Ills eyes followed hers and grew large as
he saw the transformation that had taken
place.
"Hands up!" Carlin's cool voice gave
the order, and his revolver was pointed at
them. The other robbers had lied. The
chief was alone.
The girl, heedless of tne summons, lift
ed the mask to hide the face of the man
beside her and then stepped in front of e
lum. Carlin lowered his gun. "Get out of j t
the way," he called. "He'll escape!"
"No, he won't escape," was the calm r
reply—"not now. 1 will speak for him. J
Where are the others?"
"Gone. We told them the chief had
skipped and they were scared. They took
all our things with 'em, though." j s
"You must begin now," said the girl, n
turning to the chief. "Understand?"
He bowed his head. "I'll do it,"he J
whispered, "honor bright." j I.
"Go," she ordered, and, facing the piiz- j I
; 7\cd ranchman, held both his hands un
. lil the other h»d vanished in the run
(lower stalks. 00.-lin gluwid under tte
! | girl s touch, and cfceyed.
! "Do you belong to this—company?" he
asked, u little bitterly, as she loosed his
1 | amx, now that it was too late.
| "No, but you remember what you said
a little while ago, 'tilftre is more than one
| kind 01 bravery? "
L A shrill whistle sounded oIT to the right
I and suddenly stood before them the quar
tette so recently de.nVted. The pas.->en
: gera were covered bj tneir revolvers and
I they were at the i*r.dits' mercy once
. more.
, Hut the masked chief stepped forward,
. holding in his hand Carlin's watch and
. pocketbook; he gave to the others their
. belonging-. their watches, jewelry and re
volver.v Carlin was the only one who had
hidden his gun.
it was all done so silently and quickly
that the stageload could scarcely under
, stand what was happening.
When the last trinket had been distrib
uted the masked chief bowed low. His
tine mouth just showing beneath the
fringe of black curled a little whether in
fun or contempt none could tell.
Merry Christmas! I am Santa Clans!"
He bowed again, stepped back, bent his
eyes on Miss Macon—and the stranger*
had departed.
ihe passengers, looking down at their
watches, read the time—it was past mid
night—Christmas morning.
Ihe stage reached the end of its jour
ney six hours late. Before it arrived Car
lin had asked permission to call 011 Miss
Macon and discuss the stiange events of
the ride. "I am not used to receiving
gifts at that time of night," said he.
Though Carlin called and they talked
over the night's happenings, she did not
explain. There was a newspaper story of
a crazy stage robber who gave back all he
stole (you may have read it) and she did
not correct that —not even when, a year
later, Carlin made her his bride and
claimed that he had received two Christ
mas presents from the chief.
Years afterward they visited New Eng
land, the guests of Wieir brother-in-law,
the mayor of Danvers. "Do you know,"
remarked Carlin, to his wife, "Frank has
a line mouth—it reminds me of some one
I have seen somewhere."
She did not reply.
A Similar Experience.
Reeder (looking up from his newspaper)
—Great Scott! Here is a yarn about a
man who spent a night in a pit with n
Bengal tiger. Just imagine how he must
have suffered!
Hennypeck—l can easily do that—l
know all about it. For two weeks before
the holidays 1 was obliged to face the uni
ted demands of my wife and seven grown
daughters lor Christmas money.—Judge.
A SIK'HT for tHe GOIIM.
The Rlrl you'd give the world to win.
To show you how she holds you dear.
Now fondly ties beneath your chin
A r.ecktle you can never wear.
—N. Y. Worldt
ADVANTAGE I\ SIZE.
Tommy—Ain't you goiu' to hang up
jour stocking, Nellie?
His H:g Sister—No, Tommy. I'm too
old.
Tommy—Yes, but the older one gets the
moie it will hold.
ll i h Sain tat lon.
Sho r.e'er will speak to him,
This stupid youth so bland.
She stood beneath the mistletoe,
IK' merely shook her hand.
—Washington Star.
Gre nit Kxpectat lonx.
The Minister—Well, Willie, what do yoa
expect Santa Claws is going to bring you
this year?
Willie—Oh, a lot of things that ma
needs around the house. —Chicago Times-
Heiald.
< oulilii't Vwny.
Charley Kasyman—Well, Willie, \ our
sister has given hei-elf to me for a Christ
man present. What do you think of that?
Willie- lluh! That's what ihi dona tor
Mr. Hrown last Christmas, and he gave
l.er biclv to herself before Ka-ter.— N. V.
Times.
11