A ROMANTIC LOVER "" 1 WWTffl illlllllb 1 - The beggar maid had "so sweet a face, such angel grace," sang the poet In telling the story of •iH. 1 jjifF' King Cophetua. The present has the story re it- ' suiter \i peated thus: A German count of exalted rank. \l!!|! I takes for his wife a peasant washerwoman. The • Birl, contrary to the type of modern beauty, is a3 V >jfV 'i - good and hard-working as she Is fair. The man ;! ijlwn 112; j|j : has been disinherited, has lost the $1,000,000 a ||!l,i; " jfflf year that would have been his when he became r||ij|® *ffl|lf rp ' Kn '" B c °unt. The name of our hero is Francis ffliPv MIOTTHI'iI, Be 11 known that the family of Erbach la a 'jr I Ij "mediatized" family, the members enjoy equality ot birth with all the royal families of Europe. Their rank has been held sacred by them, every h*. \ /r*JS ,na ' e aIU ' female ancestor of the present count I ' m wfiH H ' nre i n the tenth century has been of noble iuW wL * ■ birth. Mesalliances have occurred in the family history, but children of such unions have been debarred from the succession. Up to his eighteenth year the count who has just wedded a washerwoman, was kept in guarded seclusion, reared in full belief in the family greatness, had dinned into his ear the duties incumbent upon him as eldest son of the reigning count. He knew what happened to an Erbach that married a woman of low degree. At the age mentioned, the heir was sent to complete his education at the University of Bonn, and here learned that there were others in the world besides the Erbachs, was given a wider outlook on life, doubtless lost some reverence for Erbach traditions. One day whilst at home on a vacation and out for a ride on the family estate, he came upon a beautiful young peasant girl. He found her as intelligent and honest as she was fair; he fell hopelessly in love, persisted in courtship. The girl's father thrashed him—not dreaming the young man, too, was honest; his father thrashed him; family and associates boycotted him. The love out lasted years, outlasted persecution; the other day Count Francis and Anna Schultz ran away to England and were married by ring and book. HENRIK IBSEN IfflffffflWflTM It is hard to believe the wonderful, unron< I I !; I Querable personality could be conquered even by • II V'r7^®lipin'i! V ' r7^®lipin' i! mortal '""ess itself, that the invincible old Nor lllllll/V |! [ wegian, after such bitter, strenuous, immensely j; ;ijisuccessful struggles, must at last be laid low by jjlr /ubet had repeatedly refused to be j! ■ '. ' considered a candidate to succeed himself; it is ob • viously unnecessary to say that he had been re l;;| illjf peatedly urged to succeed himself. /112 _ , C "'l'ln!!' Sincere regret is voiced at his retirement, on Y/J§| N jjt . 'he sudden death of his predecessor the national tIW ! : jr/W| j|| assembly elected him on the first ballot. As a illi'iillli A "'••Mr president Loubet has not been exactly a Roosevelt, Hi illlv 'WF ■ ,J -'' fm l[|! j bllt F ra »ice would scarcely know what to do with ;! j'! ! 11 j! 11 a Roosevel He has conquered hatred and preju- Ijj |j | J';jm j dice ' cl °ses his presidency with dignity and pres 'li'l!! 1 ■ A 112" Some newspaper man remarks that his term \ ± Y/\ I is endin S In a blaze of glory. "Sovereigns have ft —/ \ I honored him, and the position of France, thanks / Wl to the friendly understanding with England, the ° / / greatly improved relations with Italy and Spain, / /U and the apparently undiminished financial strength of her thrifty population, is better than in a gen eration." Under his administration there- blic has been strengthened, the monarchists seem to have disappeared. A GREAT NEWSPAPER MAN An authority on things Russian, Dr. Dillon's ill lil ll j II name has been si & ne(l to numerous recent news- II!! \jf tII U PPI paper and Ina sazine articles of wide publicity. II l ill v" Dr ' L>illon has live' 8 to be markedly successful one must bo Hp •' JmP ; l'l 'P cl,her Jew or Ir,Bh - Mls education was begun in 111 Dublin; he continued studies at various European 112 JiNiyili universities. Dr. Dillon is a scholar of renown, -J* as we " as a J° urna list; a friend says he is by na lure soho,ar ancl Philosopher. And when we add / ,I,al the scholar is a man of unusual physical cour / ase ' a boltl atlv 'enturer, we surely have a picture Uv a mws t interesting personality. " ** 11 lvet us speak of Dr. Dillon as war correspond ent, of his noteworthy work in this field. He visited China after the Boxer insurrection, which visit led to some plain speaking in regard to the conduct of the troops of the allies; and American and European was called upon to squirm. He was In France during the Dreyfus agi ation. Disguised as a monk he worked his way into Crete with the insnregents, at no inconsiderable risk. He was in Spain before and during the Spanish-American war, saw Weyler and his work. The sultan refused permission for him togo to Armenia in 1895, but he entered the country in disguise, traveled about as a Cossack oili er, a native woman, a Kurd chief —observed first-hand the atrocities, gave relief where he could, sent forth reports that stirred the world. In Armenia he was poisoned once, several times barely escaped with his life. BELOVED MARK TWAIN ;ii:;:,:; 'i!li;iM!||.!,l, . ' Mark Twain 70 years Old the last day of i| November Thanksgiving day this year. And lie ! /.IJiIT us a Thanksgiving sermon in the true Twain 'jj i 1 ~ «iliil'lj|i| f'i-'hlon, the three-score ami-ten arrival has not I 'c / Iffif ,li,lU " p,, 'be luster of his wit or weakened tli" Hi sureneas of his aim. lie bits hs straight from the C h fi li't Shoulder as and with as hard a bl<.w il ' Mark Twalu's new 1 (Mjk, "Editorial Wild V ffl'• „i Da's." tells Ihe story of his early wanderings from uV t 1 printing offl-~ to printing ..fflee: 11 mind's eye w» htin 511 thp Hannibal, at Keokuk. Mus h . catlne, St Louis. And then comes "No 1 York." !' '»ut the great city doea not hold the wanderer. <> "» Itnmortalwe H>- plays pilot till the l>rrt period of two w he became o\>rfu!|gued in cuiiHtant re tri-allng Next he becomes iirhate secretary for his brother, u> wly aptiolnted 1 ■ cret •1 - of the territorial >manient of Nevada, th- private 1-•. r» t». > i litv . Ittg "nothlnu to do and n. alriry.' tint the Impre-stuns gathered her« are later to bring h!tn f#m WblUt Idllii .in the fsr west, he a'U a > tin ins of his Journalistic work In l' ".t "Inr.r eni* Abroad Is j.i i„. j an >l i»r«*sently Unu fur thT we«Hl for newspaper |Ntt t.oilera, tl».- t»«>>k brmglßK author and pubiisner h ' '• ' " >• elasjlea "Roughing It, ro» ' K rt'-u ' p.l 'I ten couii-h tti. if duuua '•«.* t l , Old aji l ' ana .dark l>«atu' U*uieh the thought! CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, IQOS. Leppy's Christmas Carol Bu MYRTLE KOON CHF.RRYMAN "God rest ye, merry «i ntlemen, I.et nothlns you dismay." —l4 .j-iT was the voice of I.ep MrjWl I py Sanders, errand boy for Hardman & Son, who was practicing a carol for the choirboys' Christmas festival at St. Luke's. Leppy had the sweetest of voices, the most restless of bodies, and the most freckled of faces. The first had won him a place in St. Luke's vested choir; the sec ond had kept him from learning nis carol until he was in danger of being discharged by the long-suffering choir master; and tlie third had won him the name of Leppy, which is the di minutive of "Leopard," and was giveu him by his friends because of the spots which he could not change—those en during freckles. As he opened the door of Hard man & Son's office, and sang, "God Rest »'e, Merry Gentlemen," the sense of humor which sometimes accompanies freckles brought a whimsical look to his face, for the idea of calling Hardman & Son "merry gentlemen" was distinctly in congruous. Hardman was rubbing his eyes and saying to himself: "To be blind — blind! To be shut in darkness, and one's life work not half done. I shall never get the courage to see an oc ulist and hear that doom pronounced." Son, at his desk, was looking fixedly out of the window, and saying to him self: "To be dishonored! To have got ten the firm's affairs into such a mud dle that there's no clear way out un less I throw myself on father's mer cy, and I shall never get the courage to tell him." "Let nothing you dismay," sang Leppy, stumbling on. boy fashion, toward the rear office. Hardman suddenly looked up, and with unusual intex-est in his voice, said: "Come back here, Leppy. Can you sing the whole of that?" "Do'n' know if I can, Mr. Hardman, but I'm tryin' to get it, 'cause if I don't have it straight by to-nig'it, I'll be discharged from the choir. It's the last rehearsal, you see. I don't want to get bounced, because 1 get a quar ter a week, and that helps out." "Well. I'll give you a quarter now. if you'll sing it through for me. 1 used to sing that thing myself when I was a kid, and —" Hardman had stopped speaking, and seemed to have forgotten all about Leppy, who hardly knew what to do, until Son nodded to him, and s?id, kindly: "Sing it, Lep. if yon can." Then Leppy began, and—marvel of marvels—he sang it perfectly from be ginning to end. What would the choir master have said if he could have heard it? Leppy was much impressed with his achievement, and when he stopped, his look of mingled pride and astonishment would have been funny, if there had been anybody to see it. Hardman partially roused himseii! and handed the boy a silver dollar, then turned back to his desk without a word. "Shall —shall I get It changed, Mr. Hardman?" There was no answer from Hardman. and Son. coming once more to the rescue, said: "No. Leppy—it's all right. Kun along. "Gee!" exclaimed the boy. And then, without thinking to say "thank you," so appalled was lir by this sudden af fluence—he went out of the office, anil soon his silvery tones could be heard echoing down the wide hall: "Cod rest ye, merry Kentlemen, I.et notliliiK you dismay." Son rose suddenly from his chair, and laid his hand 011 llardman's shoul der. "Father," he said, "I have some thing to tell you." "Son." said Hardman. unsteadily but bravely, "i have something to tell you." It doesn't matter who began first, or how much each one hesitated and looked out of the window to hide Ihe embarrassment of a man's confidence to a man. At last, both stories were told, somehow, and when Hardman and Son started out to lunch lo;e:iier, they looked several degrcis more likt "merry gentlemen" than they had two hours b-fore. Hardman was . aying: "We'll Straighten that out in a week's limf, Sou. You tlid rii'ht to tell me now And in the nr-uiitiuic -" "In the meantime, dad. we'll see tha' oculi. 1 together, and I know your tan b» liftvi d." And m> it was not only the physical sic,hi. but that t.ni r sense which ma!.l • l" tee Ihe struggles of those we love, ami under Imd and help them At thai mo in Int there was only the l - oj of this in tlarilnian ■> eyes, bill thai wai enoiiKll to m>tke th world alri-adv brlehu-r, ami when 1 hey encountered Leppy near the •'H I door, litrdmaii .till IHi | n the way. 1.1 t 1 i' y- I forgot to (.-He yon that quarter lure It Is," and to the boy s »-,!•.iilshinent another silver coin win !l|i|ied lulo hU baud Tin time Li'tipy fairly choked with am*/ in u bui as he .miiicrwd aw a> be ft cud voice !•> trill out a "aid In a t t '»> I" |iu ft of joy (.»' »tt»'.hit h >t.u iluiicmo " And i.otlitu did dlants> hem! RULES FOR CANDY-MAKING. Mrs. Borer's Receipts for Home-Made Christmas Confections—Lays Down Culinary Laws. Mrs. S. T. Rorcr tells how to make candies at home for Christmas in the Ladies' Home Journ'al. and gives the following rules, which insure the suc cess of the work: "Never stir the sugar and water after the sugar has dissolved. Wipe down constantly the granules forming 011 the side of the saucepan. Do not shake nor move the saucepan while the sirup is boiling. As soon as the sugar begins to boil watch it care fully, having in your hand a bowl of ice water, so that you may try the sirup almost constantly. Have everything in readiness before beginning. If the sugar grains use it for old-fashioned cream candy or sugar taffy. 11 cannot be used for fondant. Use only the best granulated sugar for boiling,and confec tioners' XXX for kneading. If your fondant grains without apparent cause you may have boiled it a little too long. A few drops of lemon juice or a little cream of tartar will prevent this. Fondant is the soft mixture which forms both the inside of the French candies and the material in which they are dipped, and it is to obtain this that the sugar is boiled. "After the sugar has reached the 'sol't ball,' a semi-hard condition, it must be poured carefully into a large meat-plate or on a marble slab. Do not scrape the saucepan or you will granulate t he sirup. Make your fondant one day and make it up into candy the next. Never melt fondant by placing the saucepan imme diately on the stove. Prevent the dan ger of scorching by standing the pan containing it in a basin of water. If the melted fondant is too thick add water most cautiously, a drop at a time. A half teaspoonful more than is necessary will ruin the whole. To cool candy place it in a cool, dry place. To keep candy put it between layers of waxed paper in tin boxes. If the day is bright and clear the sugar loses its stickiness quickly, therefore select a fine day for your candy-making." DECORATIONS FOR HOLIDAY All Manner of Pretty Fixtures, from Peanuts in Tissue Paper to Rea Cranberries. Peanuts wrapped in yellow, red and white fringed tissue paper and tied on pendant lengths of strings, three or four to each, are splendid decora tions when tied to the limb 3 of the Christmas tree. Red strings of cranberries, with knots of narrow satin ribbons tied here and there on the strands, are about as pretty as anything that could be bought for either tree, table or room ornamentation. Gilding English walnuts becomes a delightful frolic if several young peo ple are in the secret. Crack open the nuts so there will be two perfect half shells to each. Inside the empty nuts place a mottto or device which will tell the fortune of the one receiving it. Then glue the shells firmly to gether. When dry work a tack in the end where the stem grew, inserting it slowly that the shell may not break. Gild the entire nut, fasten a string around the tack and hang the interest ing nuts on the tree. When Christmas Comes. When Christmas comes by all means have the house dressed with holly and pine and fir, and don't forget the' mistletoe, says Margaret E. Sangster, in Ladies' Home Journal. Go out and mingle with the Christmas throngs. There is an exhilaration in forming a part, if only a unit, in the crowd that is so gay and so merry, in hearing bits of bright talk, in greeting friends and acquaintances and seeing the over flowing joy of the children. Never let a single Christmas pasn without reading a Christmas story and singing a Christmas song, and do not overlook the sweet significance of the day itself. Remember that it is for all the world the anniversary of Christ's birth. Be as happy as you can and make othei-s as happy as you can. WISE GUY. He t.iiclr.'i un> bnrk account, liir I i' wan rati • r i-niurl; j to il.t- iii irixM ci.rUimai M<- gave 1 i« hand and heart. —Chlciiif < I' 11. > News Stocking Up. "What are you buying all that stuft for, old man?" "Oh, I am just locking up for the CurWtmu* Mocking up." Houston Po»t Squelched. lii I with that I was Hanta Clatin, my In art I'd give you, d»nr HI.!• I wt»h that you were fhrl*t lua. 4 . too; you'd come but once a year. —N Y. Tkait* Chr let in an Holi 'ay in Chiua. The native til th« I'hiliMiiim «. a» well MS 111 I' III: battt public hull day* lilch lu linlu coincilo tvu'tly Willi g .11 Chruvuiau. HE WANTED TO KNOW MUCH An. Inquisitive Youngster's Efforts to Obtain Information About Christmas Day. "Papa!" It was two o'clock in the morning, anil Higgins was as sleepy as the aver age man is at that hour, but the little lad of four in his little bed near by was just as wide awake as some chil dren are apt to be at any hour of tha night, relates the Detroit Free Press. "What is it?" asks papa. "When's Christmas?" "Oh, before long." "When is 'before long?'" "Well, it's soon. You goto sleep." "I don't want to. I'm all waked up. How soon is Christmas?" "Next week." "Monday?" "No—you goto sleep." "The day after Monday?" "No—not until Saturday. Now. you shut up your peepers right away. 1 want togo to sleep." "I don't. Say, papa!" "What do you want?" "What you going to buy me?" "I can't tell yet." "I wouldn't want you to, if you could, papa." ' Why not?" "I'd rather be s'prised." "Well, supposing you 's'prise me by going to sleep." "That wouldn't be any s'prise, 'cause you'd know I was going to do it. Sav\ papa, papa!" "What now?" "Sammy Smithers says there ain't no such thing as a Santy Claus. Thero is, isn't there?" "Oh, I suppose so." "Sammy he said you and my mam ma was all the Santy Claus there'd be in this house. He was a big old liar, wasn't he?" "There! there! Don't you ever call anyone a liar." ' Not even when they are one?" "Not at all." "You can, if they're littler'n you are, can't you?" "No; you must never call anyone a iiar." "Well, he is one, all the same, isn't he?" "You goto sleep." "You're not Santy Claus, are you, papa? If Sammy Smithers says so again, I'll —well, I guess I'll break h'.a jaw." "Don't you ever let me hear you say such a thing again. Now you goto sleep, or maybe you'll not And any thing at all in your stocking Christ mas morning." "What you s'pose I'd find there if I'm good?" "Oh, I don't know." "Then you're not Santy Claus, and Sammy Smithers is a big, old liar. Goody, goody, gout! I s'pect me an' Sammy'll fight about it, and—" "No, you'll not. But you'll goto sleep light now, because —" "Do you s'pose I'd get a bike in my stocking?" "No. I do not." "Why?" "Because you're not big enough to have one." "But I'm getting bigger an' bigger all the time, an' my legs is getting longer an' longer, an—" "Now, that will do. You shut right up, or—" "Sammy he thinks he'll get a tri cycle, but I'll bet he don't. I wouldn't want one. They're only fit for girls! Glad I ain't a girl, because —you s'pose I'll get a railroad train with real smoke an' steam coming out of it?" "No, 1 do not, but—" "I'd rather have a steamboat to float in the bathtub, or a real gun to shoot with. I know a boy I'd kill if I ha-1 a gun. Won't you buy me a gun?" "No, and I'll not buy you anything, if you don't go right to sleep." "Well, I guess I will. I don't want to know, anyhow. I'm asleep now, papa. My eyes are shut just as tight! I'm all asleep. Are you, papa?" "Yes." "So am I." He is at least still, and Higgins is thankful that he does not hear any thing more from him thai night. The Mystic Mistletoe. For many generations after the last Druid was dust the mistletoe had Its votaries. The plant had almost every medical property, according to early physicians. It was believed to be a remedy for all ills, physical, mental and sentimental. In pagan days it was dedicated to Olwen, the Celtic Venus, and through the ages the plant and the tender passion were rather intimately entwined, say 3 the Cincin nati Knquirer. Kissing beneath it be gan so far back in history that no one lias ever attempted to trace the cus tom to its youth. Put Trees on Tables. For the royal family in Germany Christinas trees are placed upon ta bles of different heights. That for the emperor is the highest, the empress' table is uext In si/.e, and the small est is for ihe baby of tin? family. Carp Is served for the Imperial din ner, u traditional dish for the Christ mas feast throughout Germany. VrivncUjr Advice. 'Can you m. m»i something for ui« i mi f< i iu> wife tor Christinas?" he ask< d of ilte sho. keeper. "You'd U»it' r T her a IMIX uf cigars, I expeet." »at.i lit' »ho|.ke> |• r. "Sue was lu liHv tins biori Mig ;."d bought late ('Si'Usol for )uU. liuiliuiol'u A ni«rliß. l)nequal«(i. k! • H»nii i' i < n>'i uinti rountir ■! fc :*» tip, » ti. i « i,i iti, t 4 :« bfo'.t —j li t.!l« The Mistletoe Girl By I ZOLA L. FORRESTER ~jT paused on the ' last stei> and drew on her gray suede gloves thoughtfully. The only touch of relief In her gray fostUHie was the spray of scarlet holly berries that lay against jfIWK. her squirrel stole. "But if he should i come while we are gone," she said. Mrs. Dexter looked up at her inquiringly, also admiringly, as a contented moth er may look at a debutante daughter who has fulfilled every expectation. "lie might wait, ' she suggested. Isabel frowned slightly. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting." "Not by others," murmured Mrs. Dexter, discreetly, "but. when it is you, dear—" Isabel laughed and shrugged her shoulders as she fastened the last but ton. As the carriagp went down the av enue Isabel bent forward to watch the crowd of Christmas promenaders. "I ordered the holly and mistletoe yesterday," Mrs. Dexter was saying, ruminatively. "The flowers came last night, all except the table decorations. They are to be there by 11. Betty said she would look after them." "She has my chiffon dress to change before dinner," said Isabel. Mrs. Dexter bowed her head in com fortable abstraction. "She can do both." Isabel smiled quizzically at her tone. Suddenly the smile vanished and she leaned toward the window eagerly to catch a glimpse of a tall figure as it turned into Fifth avenue. "There is Mr. Wade now," she said. "Shall we go back?" She hesitated, a slight flush tinting her face as she sank back against the maroon cushions. "No," she continued. "I think he will wait." The carriage passed without Wade'a recognition of its occupants. He walked on up the avenue, his hands deep in his pockets, his chin uplifted belligerently. He would see her at all costs. If he asked for her alone, they could not keep her from him. Heretofore in his calls it had been Isabel, as a matter of course, who received him. But to-day was Christmas, and he carried a Christmas greeting to the girl he loved. The ladies were both out, Gifford told him at the door. Would he wait? "Miss Betty is hanging mistletoe in the study for the ball to-night," ex plained Gifford. "I will wait there," said Wade, and Gifford stood alone in the hall, looking at a $5 gold piece which had reached his palm suddenly. She was trying to hammer a small brass hook into the archway, and was singing softly. Wade thought as he let the portieres fall behind him that he had never heard "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing," sound quite so sweet in all his life. "Merry Christmas," he said, and Betty dropped the hammer. "I said Merry Christmas," he re peated, laughing up at her. "Please pick up the hammer," said Betty, sedately. "You mustn't bother me." Wade laid the hammer on the table. "You can't hammer in a hook. It screws in. Let me do it." Betty sat down on top of the ladder. "Everybody's out," she remarked, irrelevantly. "I'm glad of it," responded Wade, composedly. "Isabel's out, too." There was a long silence. Betty's chin was resting on one hand. The other held a bunch of mistletoe ready for hanging on the hook, and she looked down at the tiny, pearly berries meditatively. Wade walked to the window and back again to the base of the footladder. "Don't you know that I want to see only you, Betty?" he asked. Betty hung the bunch of mistletoe in place with unsteady lingers. He could not see her face. "I'm very busy, Mr. Wade. You know Aunt Octavia gives a ball to night. The decorators did all the rooms except for the mistletoe, and 1 am to put all of thai up." "You are always busy." A trace of sadness came over the lovely girlish face. "They are uli very kind to me," she said. I ravely. "I like to help, and feel that I am needed." There was the count! of carriage wheels on the avenue outside. As they stopped before the house Wade's Jaws squared with determination. 11.* held up his arms to the figure in blac* on the stepladdrr. "Betty, I need you inost, sweetheart," hi* s tid. "Won't >ou come to rue?" The portieres ui the end of th<» room parted, and for an instant Mrs. I>• xter and ! :»!>« 1 patte d ut slfiht of Ili • pic ture tel'ore theiu. At the full* of th* ladder stool Wade, wiih Bitty held •lot I in his ai in 111 lln-. )' >' 'I to hers, "Kllxabeth!" ex. lalnied Mrs. lie-.ter, as she caught her I reutii. \\ ID"* T.IIM I| hi tuad his eyes H: ire ful of iu«rt Itu lit. "li s all i: h Mr* !>• xter," he sai l, cheerily. "We're ur.der tin* mistletoe, mid Her hi -t pro«J«i'd to b ihn tnl> mis . ,)» JFHI |II the v,«rl I for ma. Merry t'lu Uunaj! ' HoMon Oloba.