A New Year's Call
By Manda L. Crocker.
«<r-r-iiUNGS are seldom, iT ever, just
I what they seem," modified
* Belle Farnsworth after her
favorite author, "and people, never!"
Turning slowly around before the long
mirror she noted the faultless reflection
of the new tailor-made suit, but her
thoughts were otherwise occupied.
"One must be positively hypocritical
sometimes, I find," she continued, more
leniently. "Now, for instance, I am to
circulate, as the politician says, among
the people of Hanover Square this aft
ernoon, wishing them the joys of the
New Year as if life was simply reflected
Paradise. But the truth Is, the cob
webs are thick in my sky and I liave not
the ambition to emulate the example of
the old woman who went heavenward
with her broom.
"0, if it were only cobwebs," she add
ed, bitterly, "that obscured my sun, I
would not hesitate to try the sweeping
process; but —It's more!"
Miss Farnsworth had been delegated
by her society to make New Year calls
in her neighborhood and she had con
sented.
Anything was preferable to mop
at home with Aunt Roxy on this espe
cial day; the day she died—not the
prosaic old auntie, but she, Miss Isabelle
Farnsworth —for ever since she and Al
lan Druer had broken faith three years
ago, she had considered herself "dead."
And he might as well be, for had he
not left Cliff Point that very day, "for
ever," he vowed? And so far he had
.grimly kept his word.
With a sympathetic glance at the sus
piciously solemn face in the glass. Miss
Farnsworth adjusted the badge of the
King's Daughters on the gray lappel
and went thoughtfully downstairs. The
blithe young year reflected his joyous
ness on all the faces she met and, in
spite of herself Belle began to speculate
happily. But the anniversary which
"followed" came suddenly abreast of
lier as she mounted the steps of a pre
tentious brown stone cottage on the
corner, for the fifth and last call.
Lost for the moment in the unusually
pleasant musing, her fingers sought the
bell-pull unconsciously.
Her first call had been on "snobs," as
Aunt Roxy would have said. They had
bowed her in and bowed her out in
dressed-up-icicle fashion, with a patron
zing smirk that would have done credit
to the king's fool.
Another call revealed a fat roly-poly
lady who giggled continuously while she
displayed her cheap diamonds and en
tertained the plain tailor-made gown
condescendingly.
But the fourth call: Well! it would
always be a bright spot on the anni
versary. A little old lady in soft, vel
vety costume drew her to a sunny cor
ner where an invalid daughter lay smil
ing a genuine "Happy New Year" in her
welcome. As the thin fingers closed
over the caller's hand a long silent
chord somewhere in the dead hpart vi
brated in harmony with the greeting;
and Miss Farnsworth concluded that she
was not a walking mummy after all.
Far from it; the King's Daughter felt
like shutting herself in with these other
'/*1 i : .i If
Mkijfc ■ 1 y
\ J
\ \ i , io, o » h ! ;
v\ i If.r Iv i
V, Zoom*
ft®
"I SIMPLY CANNOT."
daughters of the king for the rest of the
day. But she meant togo back, for they
had most cordially invited her.
Yes; and her fingers closed mechanic
ally over the silver knob of the brown
stone cottage, but—she did not ring!
A painful awakening ran over her,
bringing up at her "dead" (?) heart with
a desperate grip.
"I cannot do it." she said, staring hard
at the handsomely-lettered plate; "1
simply cannot; it Is impossible!"
She could have manufactured a dozen
plausible reasons for the omission, but
she could not go beyond that gold and
blue lettered plate eleaming above the
bell handle. Putting her hands out
blindly she turned back to the seven
broad stone steps, the way of escape.
Had she followed him, or had he fol
lowed her to North Adams?
If he had followed her was it because
he still cared? Or was he married toan
other and she stumbling onto the fact
Sri ihis cruel manner? She could settle
the whole matter by turning back; but
that were impossible to-day, at least.
Across the clear sunny air of the New
Year's day camp the old familiar words:
"i shall always carry your image in my
Jieart. Belle; no matter what has come
between us." Like a mysterious reve
lation came a response from the inner
sanctuary and she knew that Allan
Druer had hidden more than the
"image;" it was her very life, and that
was why she was "dead."
For a moment it came to her that he
Was still iru<» t(> the "image" and that
there might l»(> a blessed resurrection in
N'irth Adams.
An answering impulse went to her
heart like old wine and she hurried
liompward dazed with the possible out
come of the call she did not make.
ouc looked from mi upper win
dow in the brown stone cottage as Miss
Farnsworth fairly flew out into the
street; carelessly glancing at first, then
scrutinizing the supple figure in gray.
The next minute ho was out on the
pavement, but the tailor-made gown had
vanished around the corner.
Quickening his pace he saw the girl
ascending the steps of a humble cottage,
third from the angle.
"Making New Year calls?" he cogitat
ed. "but she did not ring at the Druers".
No wonder; poor little girl!"
Instead of waiting to be received,
however, he noticed that she went right
in and closed the door behind her un
ceremoniously. Miss Farnsworth was
at home.
Aunt Roxy w-as snoozing in her easy
chair near the fire, when Belle peeped
into the parlor, so retreating on tip
toe she went upstairs with a far-away
look in her shining eyes.
"I believe lam alive!" she exclaimed,
triumphantly, to the dimples in the mir
ror, "and I am sure he has the image
still intact."
Removing her wraps the new old
Miss Farnsworth settled herself before
i|fi
TURNING SLOWLY BEFORE THE
LONG MIRROR.
the cheery grate in a contented little
heap to dream over again those first
treasured chapters before the misunder
standing folded them in.
"Turn backward, turn backward, O,
Time, in your flight!"
Writing material and a heap of un
answered greetings lay on the desk at
her elbow, and the pen bristled in its
rack with impatient waiting; still Miss
Belle dreamed on.
"Here's a letter for you, Niece Farns
worth." Aunt Roxy had toiled upstairs
and pushed open the door as she spoke.
There were no preliminaries with the
blunt old lady and she omitted the com
mon courtesy of tapping on the panel,
as useless, "seeing it was only Belle."
"Not by the postman," queried the
girl, a rose color suffusing her anxious
face; but luckily the old auntie did not
notice the signal of the heart.
"No; a boy brought it a moment ago.
Some business of the society, I pre
sume," and Aunt Roxy waddled down
stairs to her cozy corner again without
even a suspicion of the purport of the
message that could not wait to putin its
appearance in the conventional way.
Hurriedly opening the cream-tinted
envelope with its gold and blue mono
gram on the corner, Belle thanked Heav
en for once that her aunt's eyesight
was none of the best; then she read:
"Dearest. I saw you to-day. The old
love is warm in my heart; and I want
your forgiveness, and the old-time con
fidence. Am hungry for your presence
—would have starved to death long ago
had it not been for the image. Am com
ing to see you this evening; going to
make a New Year's call. Allan."
"Things are better than they have
seemed for a long time," again modified
Miss Farnsworth, folding the gold and
blue monogram over her delighted heart,
"and people aren't so bad after all!"
That night as the happy stars looked
down over the rim of the new cycle and
winked at some millions of crisp resolu
tions going up to the Recording Angel,
Belle Farnsworth, very much alive,
watched her lover out of sight around
the corner, humming softly in her old
fash ionel way.
"One is not obliged to be hypocritical
after all, I find," she whispered to the
beaming cupid hovering near, "and my
New Year calls turned out lovely in
spite of everything."
THE WISDOM OF JOHNNY.
"Johnny," said his lather, "what good
resolve are you going to make for the
new year?"
"Well, I'm not goin' to fight with
Tommy Jones any more," replied
Johnny.
"I'm glad to hear that," sa'd the fa
ther; "but how did you come to make
that resolve?"
" 'Cause I always get licked," was the
answer.—Cincinnati Enquirer.
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1904
§ H j§|&
TO THE EAGER, WAITING NATIONS COMES THE MORNING OF THE YEAR
FROM THE GLORY OF THE ORIENT AFAR.
WITH GLAD BELLS ALL A-RINGING OUT THE SORROW AND THE TEAR.
AND IN THE HALLOWED LIKENESS OF A STAR ;
WITH ONE HALF THE OLD WORLD SLEEPING 'NEATH ITS COVERING OF WHITE,
IN THE STARLIGHT OF THE MORNING ON THE MOOR.
HIS LITTLE HANDS HAVE BACKWARD ROLLED THE SHADOWS OF THE NIGHT
AND HE STANDS. A CHILD OF WELCOME, AT THE DOOR.
YOU CAN HEAR THE BELLS A-RINGING IN EARTH'S NEWEST JUBILEE
WHERE THE ORANGE TREES ARE WAVING IN THE SUN.
FOR THE NEW YEAR THROWS HIS SMILES UPON THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SEA
AND UPON THE GOLDEN RIVERS AS THEY RUN;
THE LILY BLOOMS IN BEAUTY IN THE EVER SHADELESS CLIMB.
BY THE NEW YEAR'S HANDS UNFOLDED IN THE MORN.
AND ACROSS THE TOSSING OCEAN YOU CAN HEAR THE SWEET BELLS CHIMB
AS FOR EVERY HEART AN ERA NEW IS BORN.
HAIL THE GUEST THAT COMES A-SMILING DOWN THE PATHWAY OF THE STARS,
IN THE HEAVEN-GIRDLED BEAUTY OF HIS BIRTH.
NOT A JOY AMONG THE PEOPLE NOW HIS HAPPY COMING MARS,
FOR HE BRINGETH LOVE AND PEACE TO ALL THE EARTH:
THE OLD YEAR, BENT AND HOARY. SLOWLY FLITS ACROSS THE SNOW,
WITH A WISTFUL LOOK BEHIND HIM EVEN NOW ;
AND HE SIGHS TO SEE THE NEW YEAR IN HIS BEAUTY AND HIS GLOW
WITH THE HOLY BEAMS OF MORNING ON HIS BROW.
OPEN THROWN BE EVERY PORTAL TO THE YEAR'S INITIAL GUEST.
FOR TO US HE GENTLY COMES TO BIDE A-WEE ;
WELCOME HIM AMONG THE VALLEYS. GREET HIM ON THE MOUNTAIN CREST.
RING THE FAIR BELLS FOR HIS COMING ON THE SEA:
HIS HANDS ARE FILLED WITH BLESSINGS FOR THE NATIONS OF THE EARTH
NOT A CARE AND NOT A TROUBLE YET HE KNOWS,
WHERE SORROW SEEMS TO LINGER HE WILL SET THE SEAL OF MIRTH.
AND 'NEATH HIS FEET WILL BLOOM A FAIRER ROSE.
LOUDER SOUND THE BELLS OF WELCOME, LET THE ANTHEMS FLOAT AFAR
TILL THE HEARTS OF ALL THE PEOPLE LIFT THE STRAIN,
LET THE MUSIC OF HIS COMING REACH THE LOVE-LAND OF THE STAR
AND BE ECHOED ON THE FAR CELESTIAL PLAIN;
HE COMES, THE BABY NEW YEAR. IN HABILIMENTS OF WHITE,
FAIR AND FRESH AS NATURES EVER DEWY MORN,
WITH THE WORLDS BELLS RINGING CLEARLY IN THE SOFT AND SACRED NIGHT
THAT USHERS IN TIME'S NEWEST. FAIREST BORN.
BIDE WITH US, O DAINTY COMER. TILL THE SNOW IS ON THY HAIR
AND A STAFF IS IN THY HAND FOR JOURNEY FAR
TILL AGAIN WE WAIT TO WELCOME FROM THE EAST ANOTHER YEAR
AND NO LONGER GLOWS FOR THEE THE MORNING STAR :
COME INTO THE HEARTS OF GLADNESS THAT HAVE WAITED FOR THEE LONG.
BRING THE HAPPINESS AND PEACE THAT ALL SHOULD KNOW,
AND THE WORLD WILL HAIL THY COMING WITH A GRAND. IMMORTAL SONG
•MID THE FALLING OF THE SOFT AND FLEECY SNOW.
When the Year Begins
There Is No Reason Why It Should Be
on January First.
IT is a common saying that "there is
a reason for everything, and usually
a good one;" yet no one has yet
found any sensible ground for begin
ning the New Year with the first day of
January, if it were made to occur in
March, as the old Romans placed it,
there might be sense in it. It would be
the more reasonable if it began March
22, the vernal equinox, or at the autum
no-vernal equinox (September 22); or
June 22, or December 22. Excellent astro
nomical reasons could be assigned for
such a reckoning.
Higher civilization is in the northern
hemisphere; yet January in this part
of the world is a season of cold and snow
or chill and rain. It is a season when
moving is not only inconvenient, but
next to impossible. It is a time of the
beginning of nothing, coming ten days
after the winter solstice and 70 days be
fore the spring equinox.
The day was chosen, probably, upon
the assumption that any time is good
enough for a general starting point, pro
vided everybody agrees to it, and it will
probably have togo at that. It is queer,
though, that in setting back the begin
ning of the year two months, the names
September, October, November and De
cember should have been suffered to re
main. These were, as their origin im
plies, the seventh, eighth, ninth and
tenth months when the year began with
March, but now that Jauuary is first,
they are the ninth, tenth, eleventh and
twelfth months, respectively. Conse
quently they are decided misnomers.
Yet there is no use of finding fault,
where no amount of it will correct the
blunder complained of. It has been made
and stuck down a mile-post of time by
all the civilized nations, and no profane
hand will be suffered to pull it up and set
it forward. It has been hallowed by
usage, and must be and abide until the
coming of another civilization.
Whatever its origin or causes, the day
brings in with it thoughts and associa
tions that should prove serious to the
reflective mind. Unerringly as the clock
records the passing minutes and hours,
the New Year writes down the passage
of the years as they come and go. The
birth of the new is the death of the old
year. It proclaims that the past is gone
and cannot be resurrected. That time
which was lost in it can never be re
gained; that follies committed, that sins
indulged, that vices practiced, while
past, have left their impress upon mind
and character. It tells of good deeds
that will never die. of manly actions, of
heroic suffering for the right. All of
these are in the dead past, irrevocable.
and useful only as the good done has
made better and stronger the character,
and evil done has made one less fitted to
meet the duties and responsibilities ol
the hour.
The New Year suggests the beginning
of things. It is a time of good remorse
or sorrow for the past, and of good reso
lutions for the future. The trouble is
that too many good resolutions are made
in this first day of the year and too many
of them are broken. It may be well to
purpose to do; but it is far better to do
and to hold fast. Broken promises, wheth
er made to self or to others, tend to
lower character and render one more
fertile in pledges to do, because of the
very ease of breaking them.
The New Year is a time with busi
ness men for casting up accounts. They
figure out losses and gains for the year
that is past, and upon the result lay
plans for the year just begun. Here is
serious work in which there can be no
self-deception, no false hopes and no
false pledges. Business is made up of
fact, of work, of energy, of will. It will
stand no false estimates and will not
delude itself with idle fancies.
'•The king is dead; live the king."
The year is dead; live the year. The
: old year is gone; the new year is on.
j And so goon our lives, made up of
, years, or many or few, as the case may
be, each one bringing us nearer to the
shores of that sea which is shoreless and
that country in which time is not reck
oned.
With the saddening and subduing re
flections come those of cheer and good
feeling, and we greet our friends with a
"Happy New Year"—happy, it may
prove, if past errors and follies are cor
rected and each one lives, with brave
heart, in the light that is given him.
WILLIAM ROSSER COBBE.
Sure of a Call.
Newitt—lt seems the old custom of
making New Year's calls has died out
altogether.
Borroughs—Not altogether. Our
friend Markley will surely make one on
me this year. A three months' note I
gave him will fall due on that day.—
Philadelphia Press.
Getting: Rendy.
"It seems to me," remarked the frank
friend, "that you are hitting a pace that
is a little too swift."
"Not at all. not at all," replied the
youth. "I am merely arranging for a
suitable case of remorse to strengthen
me in my usual New Year's resolution."
—Chicago Post.
A New Year's Prospectus.
We'll make R-ood resolutions
Just as in seasons past,
With the usual ur,dorstanding w
"Not xuaianteed to last,"
—Washlnßton Star.
one New Year's Day
By Elisa Armstrong Bengough.
OOD morning, Mrs. Smithson.
I - Did you have a pleasant New
Year's day?"
"Well, No, Mrs. Nayber, to tell the
truth. I didn't. You see, Mr. Smithson
and I concluded we would not spend the
day with his family, as usual. We
thought we would remain cozily at home
and have a nice long talk. Since he has
been kept so close at the office and I
have been out so much, we don't seem
to see nearly as much of each other as
we used, and New Year's day seemed
Just the time to get acquainted all over
again.
"Well, after breakfast, we sat cozily
by the fire to have a nice long talk about
our plans for the coming year. I just
took up the paper to glance at the ad
vertisements for the next day, and he
went looking for his pipe—you know he
Is miserable without it—and he couldn't
remember where he had left it the night
before. Suddenly an idea came to me.
New Year's day is the time to give up
bad habits; now. Isn't it? At any rate,
1 felt it ought to be, and I told Mr. Smith
son he smoked too much; he admitted
that he did. 'lt is a bad habit,' I told
him, 'dirty, expensive and injurious to
health.' He admitted that it was.
'Then, why not give it up, to-day, and
|W/
MfeiJ
• J
<^J
GAVE Alii TWENTY DOLLARS.
make a good beginning for the year?'
He refused at first to listen, but finally
said he'd do it. It would be a good
chance, he said, to show his strength of
will, and, anyhow, it was only an ideal!"
"Of course, you applauded that!"
"I did, and he went off, delighted to
count up how much he would save dur
ing the year by not smoking. As for me,
I improved the time by making notes
of the bargains advertised in the papers
and mapping out a shopping tour for
the next day which would keep me until
six o'clock and bring me home ex
hausted. Mr. Smithson didn't come
back for two hours and when he did, he
was cross. I tried to interest him in the
advertisements, when he suddenly
turned on me, saying that I spent more
time and money, as well as wasting
more health, on bargain hunting than
he did on tobacco, and if he could give
up the one, he thought I could give up
the other!"
"Oh, but that was different!"
"Indeed it was, and so I told him, but
he wouldn't listen. He said I was in the
habit of spending five dollars' worth of
time to save five cents in money. He
reminded me that I had a quantity of
things put away upstairs which I had
bought because they were cheap and
which I could never use; he proved that
many bargains had shown themselves
dear and said I could save more money
by remaining at home and seeing to the
house. When I demurred, he quoted ray
own arguments in regard to smoking,
until I got mad, said I had as much
strength of mind as he had and I
wouldn't buy a bargain for a year!"
"Oh, gracious, but how can you—"
"Well, everything went wrong that
day. Mr. Smithson was cross and criti
cised the dinner until the girl got mad.
Mrs. Trotter came in and told me that
Blank was to have a bargain sale in cur
tains —I needed curtains for the bed
rooms. My sister came in with a new
boa. bought at a bargain, and told me I
could get its mate. Going into the par
lor for one more peep at Blank's adver
tisement I found Mr. Smithson chewing
the stem of his empty pipe!"
"It's too bad; I'm on my way to a rib
bon sale now, and I thought you—"
"Wait till I get my wraps. You see,
the next morning I thought I'd just run
downtown to merely look at the sales,
and I went into the parlor before break
fast to tell Mr. Smithson. I found him
smoking. He looked foolish for a mo
ment. then gave me S2O and asked me if
I didn't want togo shopping. Where
did you say the ribbon sale is?"
ITS FINISH.
Pllltop—Did that affair of old Gotrox
and Miss Gushie's end with a tie?
Miss Smart—Yes, with the speckled
red tie she gave him for a Christina®
preseut.--Chicago News.
Two Sii
By Eliza B
««»—last day
makes a fel
• reminiscent, <
the man at the roll top
case of homesickness
brought on by encoura
"I lived in Chicago
some reason or other I
old farm for five years
folks made an annual
made them enjoy it
clock announced the 1
was sitting in a hotel
of traveling men. Ev
had been a farmer's bo
telling stories. We spol
swimming, forgetting
chores, and the interne
we came home late for
felt our hair to see if i
lived over orchard rail
ring to the painful mer
waited in the dark, whe
at the window. We r>
sweetness of stolen melo
what happened when «
complained of us next d
we were all homesick.
"Then a fellow from
spoke of the holidays on
thought of the old folks
my throat the size of a i
Why, I hadn't written hor
and hadn't spent New Y
since I came to the city,
solved togo home and s
The man from North D,
two cents he'd go with
know my mother, but he
and he'd risk his welcor
him two cents,
"We could make it if we
o'clock train in the morn
would bring us home wh
were lit and the smeil of sr
at the back door. The ma
Dakota hoped they'd haves
apple sauce and hot biscu
it cured his dyspepsia to tl
"Before I slept I wired
Jim, who lived three miles
place, to meet us at the sta
ting the old folks know.
"It was snowing when wc
that only made it seem mi
Year's. It snowed all day a
kept losing time; but Ion!
waiting at the station. V
the home supper and ate ir.
car. It was nine when we :
the station master, a straj
seen Jim! There was no
traveling man offered us a
cross roads. The man from
kota hoped the old folks hai
bed; I knew they had. It \
from the cross roads than I tl>
stopped talking, as we
through the snow. But, an>
going home for New Year's!
"There was no light when
in, and I hoped pa had not c
fire too carefully. I meant t
a few things next day, but
was at home! I knocked and
the window togo up and to
voice when I shouted, but i
came. I knocked again; thei
turns knocking.
"It seemed an hour before
voice above told us its owner w
I
SAIL I WASN'T EL.
also that the dog was loose. T
arrived just then; he was a st
and seemed to have a double set oi
The man was a new hired ham
said I wasn't Ed, because the ok
had gone to Chicago to spend
Year's with him. He backed t
opinion with a gun which looked
as a howitzer in the starlight.
"The man from North Dakota
gested we goto Jim's. It was the
est three miles I ever walked,
was at home; he hadn't got my
gram. His wife had gone with tl
folks to surprise me. There was no
to eat in the house except some
potatoes and a jug of molasses, an
fire was out.
"The next time I go home for
Year's I'll wait till pa writes; he'll
me at the station!"
A New Tack.
"Do you intend toswear off this ye
"No. I'm going to try a new sch
I'm going to see if by attending a 1
more strictly to business I can't
enough to afford the things I've been
ing to swear off on in the past."—
cago Kecord-Herald.
Make New Resolves.
riooause resolves of oilier years
Have fallen by the way
And for the new leaf you have fear*
It won't keep white till May,
Don't hesitate now paths to seek
Lest you should take a fall,
For if you're only tfood a week.
Why, thai beats none at ail.
—Chicago Dally News.
Might Avert Trouble.
Jaggs (returning home) —Wish
wash Shanta Glaus, an' could get
down the chimney,—Brooklyn Life.