U ~ . r ~ rs J] fc A CHRISTMAS TOBOGGAN ——a—■ ■■■ —a—aata—a———s By MANDA L. CROCKER h r a sheltered cleft on the moun- II tain side where the scraggy pines ■ *** made polite obeisance to tneir j hare-headed neighbors, the Half-way I house had stood, a harbinger of com- | I'ort, for a score of years. And now, though the old stage lay Totting in the valley and the traveler thundered along by rail beneath its very foundations, the friendly gables seemed beckoning to imaginary guests, j To-night, too, the pine branches j crackled merrily on the wide hearth, | as if the snubs of a progressive pub- j 3ic were not worth minding, lighting | •up the long, low room in the gloaming j of the Christmas Eve. Two women conversed in tender j monotone in the cheery illumination, ! and the elder was saying: "The paper j cannot be found and, of course, the i property goes to your Uncle Hermon." The other rose wearily from her place before the fire and stood lean ing her head against the black old fashioned mantel. "Then uncle really intends taking I our home away from us?" she said, in terrogatively, looking down into the patient mother face. "Certainly, my daughter," came the Teply in cheerful resignation,"and he expects to take possession soon, too. But your father always made much ■of the Christmas time ana, for his ! asake, we will keep the day gladly, you jknow." "Yes, I know,"and the girl turned away toward the next room, tucking up her sleeves with little gingerly thrusts as she went. The brace of partridges Brother Ned had snared the day before made a ■ pretty picture as they waited, plump and round, for the last turn of the skewer. After they were ready for the morrow's roasting the tall, queenly a?irl went over to the open doorway a moment to contemplate the pictur esque landscape she had loved all her life. "Even the scrubby oaks are restful tip here," she mused, "and I don't see how I am to bring myself to be turned out like —a beggar!" Making a sudden dash at her eyes ■with her handkerchief, she resumed: "Of course, if mother is bent on hav ing a sunny Christmas in the face of it all, why, I won't be shadowy." Hearing a cheery whistle outside she continued: "Ned doesn't care about it —boys don't. O yes" (correcting the uncharitable thought), "he does care, but not as I do." The mother rocked to and fro be fore the fragrant blaze, humming an old refrain. The dusk gathered " Who Cares for His Charity ?" oomily in the corners of the room lile the dancing light glinted along e smoky rafters as if eager to dispel thought of loneliness. Mrs. Cameron glanced upward. In e years agone, when the rafters were t so smoky and the dear old rooms t so dingy as row, the Half-way use was the social hub of the moun ti side. But now— V sturdy lad of 12 years came bust g in with his arms full of holly and » pockets full of mail. * "The road down to the village is aa smooth as glass," he said, brushing j the snow flakes from his clothes onto the bright hearth. "Horses will have to be sharp shod to make the slide to morrow, I know." Handing some letters to his mother, he began to plan for a "jolly good time" the next day, while he sepa rated the sprays of the glossy ever green. Attracted by his festive manner, his sister volunteered to help, and fell to sorting the crimson clusters for deco rating the table and brightening up the rooms on the morrow. "Of course he can't care much." she : whispered, rebelliously, watching the ' satisfaction shining on the boyish i face. "We'll have popcorn and chestnuts, and browned birds and—everything," cried Ned, as his plans bubbled over. "Everything," repeated his sister, bitterly, "and then by and by have nothing." But Ned did not hear, for his mother was saying: "Here's a note from \ "Mr. Fulton Gave It to Me." Cousin Jessie," while a smile lighted up her careworn face. Then she passed the paper to Edith, murmuring: "All winter long in the dear old house." "Papa has concluded to let you stay in the house until spring, as he can not find a tenant before that time. He will stop on his way to Fulton's in the morning and talk with you about the matter," was what Edith read. Ihen she laid the slip of paper on her brother's palm, wondering if by that time anything would happen that ihey would not have togo at all. Ned tossed the note into the ma ternal lap contemptuously and his sun ny face darkened. "Who cares for his charity extension, I'd like to know?" he exclaimed. "It's only because he can't do otherwise and make it pay." His lip curled disdainfully and quiv ered into silence. He did "care," after all, poor little brother. And Edith's heart smote her as she kissed his flushed cheek in sisterly sympathy. After all, he had been braver than she. "It's a veritable toboggan." ex claimed Hermon Cameron's wife as the fine team cantered up the treach erous "slide." "Really I am afraid of an accident." "Fudge, Mrs. Faintheart; what can happen?" laughed her husband, gayly, as he cracked his whip over the sleek bays. Truly, it did not seem possible for anything to happen out of harmony I with the lovely holiday. Nevertheless, I a few minutes later the serenity of ! the day was all broken up for the I Camerons. Frightened at something I by the roadside, the horses became | unmanageable and, in a twinkling, be coming detached from the sleigh, ran wildly around the upper turning, throwing Mr. Cameron heavily to the ground. The impetus of the accident sent the vehicle spinning down the glassy in cline, its occupants perfectly helpless to stay their mad flight. The Fultons, startled to see a run away team dash into their grounds, ran out to recognize it as that of their | friend, Cameron, and ill a short time | they were bending solicitously over j the unlucky man who, prone on the Christmas snow, was moanir.g uncon | sciously. 'We will take him up to the wid i ow's," said Mr. Fulton, glancing in the I direction of the friendly gables, "while | you go for the doctor," addressing his , son, "and then we will look for the I rest of them." I Prudence Cameron prepared a coucb CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 17, 1903. for her unfortunate brother-in-law, with a queer sensation tugging at her heartstrings. He had meant to stop, but not in this manner. Surely there was a Providence in it. "Here are some papers we picked up," said Mr. Fulton, laying a roll in the widow's iiand. "They must belong to him. Examine them and see. I haven't my glasses with me." In her own room Mrs. Cameron looked the papers over. "Of course they're his," she mused, unrolling the grimy outer wrapper. Unfolding the inside paper she read: "I hereby give and bequeath the Half-way house to my sister-in-law, Prudence Cameron, and —" She read no further. Down at the bottom of the instrument was the pe culiar chirography of her injured broth er-in-law. "It was never lost!" she exclaimed; "but Hermon never meant that 1 should see this." Putting the precious document away carefully, she went downstairs with a queer little smile triumphant on her patient face. The physician and Hermon's family had arrived and the wife was saying: "We went right on tobogganing down to the uneven road at the lower turn ing. Then the cutter went to pipces against a tree and we were upset, but not hurt." She ended with a hysterical laugh, as she looked toward the white-faced husband. "Stunned a considerable, bruised a Vit, but fairly ready for his Christmas -llnner," said the doctor as he took his leave. In the kitchen Edith surveyed the brace of partridges and wondered if there was "enough togo round." But while she cogitated the Fuitona came in with a bountiful dinner. "We planned for company," laughed jolly Mrs. Fulton, "and we're bound to have it, even if we meet them half way." And soon the Christmas cheer filled the lonely old rooms. In the midst of the merry Christmas dinner Prudence Cameron looked across the table at her brother-in-law who, pillowed up in an arm-chair, was munching a browned bird, and said, playfully: "Christmas gift, Brother Hermon." [ "I meant to have brought some thing," be stammered, in confusion, "but —" "Thank you, I know you did," inter rupted Prudence, her face glowing i with victory, "and it is all right. Mr. I Fulton gave it to me—the will, I mean —and I thank you again." Had the house tumbled down the mountain side Hermon Cameron could not have been more surprised. Ho 1 sank back among the pillow;s with a suppressed groan. "My heart!" he I said, faintly. "My heart!" "You are hurt more seriously than j we thought for!" cried the B'ultons, in alarm. "Oh, no," murmured Hermon. "I am just a little overcome." I And so it proved. But, although he revived and chatted with his friend, | Fulton, over the toothsome plum pud ding, he did not look Prudence Cam eron's way again that day. And that night Ned sat before the ! crackling fire on the broad hearth, while the dancing light touched his ruddy face and glinted up along the smoky rafters, and whispered between his palms: "Dear Lord, we are so thankful for the bussed Christmas tide; but just now we are thankfnller ! for the upset of Uncle Hermon!" MORE: »A\GEK AIII-:AD. I I Jrl I jl | y ||' | "Well, I'm thankful Thanksgiving's i past," soliloquized Mr. Gobbler, "but hero comc3 December." I 1. 1 Mr. Busby's Christmas Gift i _i yrVffcßS. BUSBY was finishing a pair of "bootees" for her daughter's newest baby. | screwing up her moutii with the in- j tricacy of the pattern. Mrs. Griggs in the opposite rocker watched her. "I guess I must be going," she an nounced, finally."l only ran into wish you Merry Christmas. I won't see you to-morrow. Call Christinas a holiday! I've two people to coak for usually—Christmas it's twenty!" "And you'd not be content on o'h'r days, if you hadn' s'many then," re turned Mrs. Busby. "We'll go to Tom's, as usual. He married a c ol'ege girl, and I told him: 'These college girls may know a sight more about the structure of the human body than the rest of us, but they don't know half as much about making it comfort able!' " "And now she has you come over every Christmas and see what a good housekeeper she is!" finished Mrs. Griggs, knowing the story as well as her hostess. "M'hm. Can't you stay?" "Thank you, no. 1 hoped you'd show me Mr. Busby's Christmas gift." "It's upstairs, and I'm afraid he'll come in. Ho hasn't seen it, though."* "So you've got ahead of him, finally?" "I have. It beats all the way that man finds things out and then teases. Last year I got him a set of Dickens, and kept it hidden three weeks be tween the mattresses of the spare room bed. The night before Christmas I was thinking how I'd surprise him when he said, smiling like: 'That's a mighty nice set of books in the spare room bed, Cynthy; It's a pity to keep 'em there, with the bookcase so han dy,' he says." "But he hasn't found out this year?" "No; I guess he was ashamed of be ing so mean. I've seen my present, though." "But I thought you said it was kind of mean to try to find out —" "Oh, that's different. My present is the handsomest kind of a wrap, Mrs. Griggs. I was over at Parker's one "Choose for Yourself." day and that head clerk he called me aside and let out that Mr. Busby was going to buy me one of those nice fur-trimmed coats, and wouldn't I like to choose it, without him knowing it? So I chose —and won't I have a joke on Mr. Busby to-morrow?" "That was real nice of that clerk." "It was, and seeing how 1 could trust him, I asked him to advise mo which one of those nice warm bathrobes to choose for Mr. Busby—l just couldn't decide between the red one and the green one. He said —" "Oh, by the way, he told me a real funny story about a bath robe. He says a lady wanted to buy her hus band one for Christmas and asked his ' advice. He told her to wait until to morrow, as some new ones were com ing in then, and —" "Why, that must have been the very day I wa3 in; though I didn't see any new ones when I went back the —" "M'hm. And he just called her hus band in that night and told him to choose for himself, so he wouldn't have to exchange it the day after Christmas. Her husband thought, it the best joke yet to think what a laugh he'd have on her when she gave it to him. So he chose a blue one and— why, what's the matter, Mrs. Busby?" Without a word, Mrs. Busby fled up the stairs, returning a moment later with a blue bath robe in her trembling grasp. "Did you ever in your life know any body as mean as that clerk?" she gasped. ELISA ARMSTRONG RENGOt'GH. 11111 That Benin 'Em All. | "You mny talk ot 13111 Jone-sand Bill Walk er. Bill Brown: j There's a bill that beats ail of them some where In town: I A bill that is waiting Cor all of us still. ; And the name of this graat onu is Christ i mas 13111!" Xot to Be CnuKlit Attain. "My wife says she doesn't want me 1 to give her a solitary thing for Christ j mas this year." I "Are you going to take her at her | word?" [ "Not much! I did that once. I'm j an advocate of peace whenever it can i be had with honor." —Chicago Record- Herald. llt.i ('nictitation. Mamma —But these cheap toys break j so easily. Papa—Exactly. Johnny is never I satisfied until he breaks his toys, so I j thought I'd give him something that won't give him much trouble. -Brook- I lyn Life. The Prince of Peace At His Name Every Knee Stall Bow and Every Tongue Confess B 1 VERY country of earth offers i an apotheosis in the person of some great man who distin guished himself in some great crisis in its affairs. Switzerland idolizes William Tell, Russia Peter the jreat, Prussia her Frederick the Great, France her Napoleon, Italy her Gari [ oaldi, England her Alfred the Great | ind the United States her Washington. 1 It is food for reflection that in thfi j selections of heroes and in hero wor ! ship ii is an invariable rule, not a sin- Isle exception being known in all his j lory, that choice is made of one who ! ias crowned his life with deeds done | n battle. By and through the flash | of the sword alone has immortality of | fame been won by mortals. The scimiter of Mohammed and not | iiis Koran conquered Arabia, Armenia ! and the Balkans. Moses was a law | siver, but he also was a mighty war rior and led his followers on from j r>ne victory to another. It is he and ; Joshua and David and John Hyrcanus, all intrepid soldiers, who have made ! glorious the history of the Jewish peo ple. The history of Mohammedanism iis written in blood and Omar and Baladin stand out prominent in its rec ords. So with other nations. Deeds, deeds only, and these calling for great holocausts of human lives, to -make imperishable some individual name. ! Christmas day offers an anomaly, however, in the history of men who have lived and wrought wonders. The Christ was a man of peace, deploring | war. What is yet more strange, He is glorified through His words and not through His deeds. The Heavenly voice said to the simple shepherd on the plains of Bethlehem: "Behold! I bring you glad tidings of great joy, which shall be unto all the people; for unto you is born this day in the ! city of David a Saviour which is Christ the Lord." And the accompanying choir with ineffable melody sang the re frain: "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace." The Christ-birth and the Christ-life stand forth the opposite of all other I great lives that have filled pages in ! earth's history. Born of humble par ; entage in a stable, amid the lowing ; of kine and the raucous complaining 1 of discontented cattle, reared in the far-away bleak hills of Galilee, en ! imaged daily in sawing logs into bohrds, : or planing the latter into smoothness, Ho steps forth suddenly, at the age of 28, as a teacher of righteousness. Xot among strangers, but in the midst of His own people, He appeared, and they were astounded at the profundity of His knowledge. As though to per suade themselves that they were not mistaken as to His identity, they asked of one another: "Is not this the car penter's son?" j His life work was brief, but four short years! Compare this with the i years spent by other illuminati of | ?arth in perpetuating their fame. | Without use of money, or influence, or i lumbers, and without courting favor jof the rich and powerful, He went i lbout from town to town preaching His gospel of peace and ,love. Those svho gathered to Him were poor men— ishermen, publicans, small farmers or lerdsmen, rather. The waters of the sea of Judea were 1 Silt little stirred by His presence. So little was His presence felt that no I ;ontemporaneous historian of His | ;inie, outside of His immediate follow ers, makes any reference to His life :>r His works. Josephus, a voluminous ind very just historian, ignores Him ltterly. No record has been found at & & 3v c:tnt of (Christmas WM . T WATCIT the glowing embers as tho moments tiit away, | I For Christmas will bo with us In the mornlnir cold and gray,