ALONE
By S. BARING-GOULD
Is there—can there be—a man more
lonely than one returned from a far
country, who has been out of his home
land for 20 years, and conies back
when his parents are dead, his old
friends dispersed, and the old nest
has passed to other occupants? And
«an his loneliness be more emphasized
than when Ills return ayncronlzes with
•Christmas?
That was my condition when I re
visited the mother country. With a
beating heart and straining eyes I had
looked for the first sight of dear old
America after having left it as a lad,
hardly a man, some 20 years ago.
I was back —not to home —I had no
home now. My heart began to fail
ine, my spirits decline, when I reached
the little country toWn near which I
had been born, and where I had fleet
-ed the golden hours of childhood. No
one knew me. In the churchyard I
laid a wreath on the graves where
lay dear old father and mother. I
looked at our house. It had been re
built and was occupied by strangers.
"You Are Very Good."
I went through the village. The little
ehops had fresh names over them.
The old rector who had baptized me
was dead. The old school was gone.
The ancient church had been reno
vated. The village inn was in new
hands. The old Christmas was no
"more. No frost, no snow, no icicles;
only sludge and a drizzling rain.
I returned from my visit to the vil
lage in deep depression. I would
haste to the rooms I had taken in a
house in the town, and spend my
Christmas Eve with my pipe and glass
—alone, with not even an old dog to
lie at my feet and look up with speak
ing eyes into my face and sympathize
■with me in my solitude. I would pass
the evening before the fire, looking
into the red coals, not building castles
among them, but watching the tum
bling down of old cottages, old farms,
old reminiscences, into ash.
I had done well in the other land,
and had returned, not a rich man, but
with a competence.
It had been my wish, my ambition,
to settle in the village about which
THE TRUE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT
clung all my sweetest and holiest,
thoughts; to buy there a little land,
to tread the old paths, ramble in the
same woods, look upon the same
scenes, dwell among the same people,
re-make a home in the same place.
But now—? Could it be?
As I walked back to my lodgings,
through the street and by the market
place, folk were hurrying in all direc
tions, some with bunches of holly In
their hands, a girl or two with a sprig
of mistletoe slyly hid in her muff, a
man wheeling a Christmas tree on a
barrow, butchers' boys carrying joints
for the marrow'B dinner. Plum pud
dings and mince pies were displayed
in the confectioners' shops. The
chemist, the hairdresser, the seeds
man, the draper had stuffed their win
dows with toys, toys, toys. He who
had come to earth as a little child
had filled every heart with thought
of the little ones, and desire to make
Christmas a day of joy to them. I
had no tiny ones of my own, no little
nieces and nephews, no 3niall cousins
for whom to provide anything. I was
alone —utterly, desolately alone.
Aa I pursued my way I saw a tall,
ultrn girl walking before me with a
basket on her arm, and I noticed that
the bottom had come out, and that
the contents fell on the pavement.
Of this she was unaware. I stooped
and picked up a little woolly lamb,
then —a something wrapped in paper
—then a silver match box breaking
out of its covering.
Gathering them together, Iran after
the girl and stopped her.
"Excuse me," said I. "Are you a
female Hop o' my Thumb, dropping
tokens whereby your track my be
known?"
I showed her what I had collected.
She colored and thanked me. Then
I recognized her as the daughter of
my landlady.
"You must allow me," said I, "to tie
my handkerchief round the basket,
and to carry it for you. I believe
that we go the same way."
"You are very good," she replied.
"We are about to have a Christmas
tree for the children this evening,
"and 1 have been making some trifling
purchases as presents for my brothers
and sisters, and for papa and mamma,
who must not be forgotten."
"There go the candles!" I ex
claimed, as a cataract of red, yellow
and green tapers shot out of the bas
ket.
"And there's an orange!" said she,
as one of these fruit bounced forth
and fell, and rolled away into the
gutter.
We were forced to stoop and col
lect the scattered wax lights, and
then to tie my large handkerchief
about the basket.
"What a fortunate thing," said I,
"that I have got a good sized 'kerchief
in place of one of the miserable little
rags that do service nowadays. That
is, because I cling to old customs,
and wheu I was a boy my mother al
ways gave me something like a dish
cloth in my pocket."
Then we proceeded on our way, and
when we went into the house, she re
ceived the basket from me, and again
thanked me. "You must not remove
the 'kerchief till all is unpacked," I
said, "or there will be another dis
charge of the contents, and then the
children will see what you have pro
vided for them."
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1906.
"Shall you be dining out to-mor
row?" asked the girl.
"I —oil, no! I have none to dine
with. I know no one here."
"And this evening. Shall you be
going anywhere?"
"I—oh, no! 1 have nowhere whith
er to go."
So we parted, and I ascended to my
room. 1 made up the fire, and sat
down and reread the newspaper.
There was much in it about the ap
proaching feast. I had the illustrated
papers. They had issued Christmas
supplements, with pictures of happy
family gatherings, of Old Father
I Christmas, of waits and carol singers.
I might perhaps hear the waits and
singers. I should certainly hear the
Christmas bells. That would be all.
1 had done with my papers. I sat
before the fire in a brown study, and
my spirits sank lower and ever low
er. I recalled the old Christmases I
had spent at home with my parents.
I remembered how I had looked into
my stockings on the morning to see
if Old Father Christmas had visited
me In the night and had left there
some presents for the Good Boy.
Alas! No Father Christmas would
visit me now. All that was of the
past —the utterly and Irrevocably
past.
1 did not light my candles. I could
read no more. I needed no light for
my thoughts, they were too dark to
be illumined thus.
As I stood thus musing, I heard a
tap at my door, and shouted: "Come
In!" There ensued delay, and I called
again: "Come in!"
Then the door opened and I saw
some little heads outside, with golden
curls anil flushed cheeks, and a child's
voice said: "Please, Mr. What's-your*
mme, will you coma to our troe dowi*
stairs?"
"I!—I!"
As I hesitated, the child said:
"Ploase —Annie told us to ask you."
And then I saw the tall girl whom
I had assisted draw back into the
dark behind them.
"Most certainly I will, as you are
so kind as to invite me."
So I descended, and there were my
landlord and landlady, radiant with
happiness, and the five children
danced before me and said: "He is
come; Is it not nice!" Behind, pres
ently, entered Annie, somewhat shy
ly, and pretending she had come from
tbo kitchen.
I was witness of the delight of the
little ones over their presents—the
I Saw the Tall Girl.
woolly lamb, a small cart, a cannon,
a doll —the father over a pair of warm
stockings of Annie's knitting, the
mother over a shawl, also of her
work; and I stood smiling and happy,
when up sprang one of the children
and plucked from the tree the silver
match box.
"This," said the child, "Is for Mr.
What's-hls-name. Sister Annie said
it was for him."
I was moved more than I can say.
So —some had been thinking of me,
though I was only a lodger.
"Look here, sir!" said the father,
"you're a stranger in the country, and
at such a time as this there must bo
no strangers. You must really sup
with us, and dine also with us to
morrow. 1 can promise you a good
dinner, for it is of Annie's making."
All was changed. I was a stranger
and they took me in; I was lonely
and they made of me a friend.
Christmas day, 10:30 p. m.
I returned to my room upstairs,
made up the fire, and seated mysel*
before it. I had spent a very pleasant
day, and a pleasant evening before
that. I did not no>v feel so discour
aged, so hopeless. That was a nice
family, very friendly and considerate.
And I began to build in the Are. I
no longer saw only ruins. I saw, as
it were, a pleasant home rise out of
the coals, and a pleasing face looked
up at nie out of them —very much like
that of Annie. Ah! if the old home
was gone, might I not build one that
would bo new. I need no longer live
in the past, but look to the future, and
next Christmas, please God —I would
not be alone, that is if Annie —but 1
cannot say—will consent to put an
end to my loneliness and help in
building up a future.
Of interest to Stockholders.
Jaspar—l hear that Santa Claus has
given up hi a yearly rounds.
Jumpuppe- You don't tell me!
Jaspar—Yes. He has accepted a
regular position on the "Salaries Com
mittees" ol various big corporations.
—Town Tot/ica.
Christmas is the supreme season
of happiness for children. Their
brains are filled with the beautiful
imaginations of the good deeds of
old Santa Claus. Many of them re
ceive their first strong impressions in
discriminating between good and
wrong, and the rewards for the for
mer and the punishments for the
latter.
The festive character of Christmas
being undeniable, nothing can or
could be more pleasing to the children
and more strictly In accordance with
the spirit of the day than a house
party.
The day should begin for the child
with the finding of his stockings filled
with presents, which on the previous
evening were hung on the bed post.
This pretty custom should be encour
aged until the wonderful travels and
kindnesses of Santa Claus are looked
upon with doubt by the recipient of
his bounty.
The children should gather about
the Christmas tree as presents are dis
tributed. Of course if the father wants
to impersonate Santa Claus so much
the better. His appearance will be
appreciated by the youngest and can
not be resented by the more experi
enced ones of 12 or 13 years.
Here are some suggestions in games.
In no other city in America is
Christmas celebrated in so many dif
ferent ways as in Washington, for at
Washington are gathered the official
representatives of every land —Chris-
tian as well as pagan —and in the em
bassies and legations the holiday is
celebrated according to the custom in
vogue in the countries having rep
resentatives there.
So it is that the celebration there
is international as well as national in
character. Quaint customs, indeed,
prevail in the diplomatic corps. In
one house you will find Christians
commemorating the birth of the Sav
iour, while in a house across the street
a pagan brother from the orient is
celebrating an entirely different day,
for an entirely different occasion.
Pursuant to a long-established cus
tom, ambassadors and minister pleni
potentiaries entertain their official
staffs at Christmas, inviting, also,
such other friends as they may desire
to have visit the legation at that
time.
Probably the ambassador from
Italy and his wife are the most gra
cious hosts of any of the foreign
ers at Washington, and their guests
at Christmas time are always wel
comed around the Yule log, which
burns brightly in the open fireplace.
A large urn full of gifts is placed
on a table and visitors have great
sport getting their presents from out
the vast pile.
Germany is the home of the Christ
mas tree and Kris Kringle. It is,
therefore, appropriate that at the kai
ser's embassy the most cosmopolitan
Christmas should be celebrated —the
custom of the "Faderlandt" blended
with those of the liaroness von Stern
berg's "old Kentucky Home."
The family of Senor Casasus, the
brilliant Mexican ambassador at
Washington, is a happy one, and all
of its members join heartily in their
native way of celebrating the "Pos
ada." At half past seven on Christ
mas eve they assemble in a room
With a sympathetic person assisting
the little folks, there should be plenty
of fun.
"Whose Are the Eyes?"
"Whose Are the Eyes?" which has
attained great popularity, dimly sug
gests the Vehmericht, the secret
tribunal of old Westphalia, in which
the judges sat closely cowled and
with their faces Invisible. The game,
however, is all mirth. Two of those
that take part in it are seated side by
■lde. Over the head of each la placed
an outstretched newspaper. In this
paper two holes are cut. The paper
conceals the head of each of the play
ers beneath and only the eyes are vis
ible through the eye holes. The ob
ject of the game is for the rest of the
players to guess the ownership of the
eyes as thoy see them by holding a
candle close to them.
"Blow Out the Candle."
About as popular as this game Is
"Blo>v Out the Candle." One of the
party is sent from the room. He or
she returns blindfolded. A candle
burns In the room, around which the
other merrymakers are gathered. The
blindfolded player must advance to the
candle and blow it out.
It looks easy, but it isn't. The thick
ness of the blind is so dense that the
light of the candle cannot be seen
ornamented with representations of
saints and angels, the Virgin Mary
and Joseph, the wise men from the
east, shepherds, sheep and oxen. The
presents are previously placed on a
great earthen swan in the center of
the room, and as the young people
fall in line and march around the
swan, each gives it a blow with a
small stick until the bird is broken.
Then the fun begins—a scramble for
the gifts ensues, followed by games
and the usual merrymaking.
An American hostess presides over
the embassy where floats the tri-col
ored flag, and joins her welcome with
that of her distinguished husband, the
French ambassador. Here, again, we
find the Yule log burning, and in its
glow the Bethlehem manger is rep
resented. Built on a table in the
living room, it remains for two weeks
of "Noel," a gentle reminder of the
sacred meaning of Christmas.
At the Russian embassy, a few
blocks distant from the French, Mile.
Rosen, the school girl daughter of
the czar's ambassador, presides over
the Christmas celebration.
Dreams had on that ni|;ht are sup
posed to come to pass, and from the
Russian standpoint, unlucky is the
girl who has no dream to relate
while preparing her morning toilet.
Early service is attended in the em
bassy chapel (there is no Greek
church in Washington), and thon for
tune telling games aro in order.
The children of tho Peruvian lega
tion at Washington will celebrate
their Christmas around a "Grotto of
tli Nativity" in miniature, instead of
around the proverbial Christmas tree.
This grotto will Lo surrounded by
pots of nourishers of various sizes,
with growing plants of different
grains, while the gifts will bo ar
ranged in and around tho whole.
These presents aro always selected
with the greatest care, tho object be
ing to have them indicate the prog
ress of tho world since the birth of !
the Christ-child.
through It and In most cases the puff
which should extinguish the candle Is
dirocted In the most absurd places.
"Blind Man's Buff."
If there Is a person who has never
played this game, he will undoubtedly
seek to conceal the fact. The old can
join with the young, and what could
cause more merriment that to see
uncle bump his knee against the tabic
or mistake Aunt Jane for grandma?
"The Bobbing Apple."
This is delight pure and simpMi
Hang an apple from the celling and
olTer a small prize to the one who is
able to grasp it with the teeth without
Angering It In any way. Let each
child try in turn.
"Musical Chair."
This Is considered great by the
young, especially if there Is a good
lively player at the piano. Arrange
the chairs in a row, having one less
than the number of players. When the
music suddenly stops each will make
an effort to seat himself, but one must
be disappointed.
"Charades."
The description of charades should
have been left for the last, became it
affords a true climax. Lucky are the
children who can go rummaging and
have in store for the party a whole lot
of old clothes with which to imperson
ate the familiar home figures. This
game requlrea an intelligent pereoa
to oversee it, and the children should
enter into it with much seriousness,
which gives an added charm to it. It
is great fun to see a little follow come
in wearing an old hat and shawl of hln
mamma's or a little girl clothed in a
largo vest with a silk hat pulled down
over her ears.
Planning for the older guests on
Christmas day should be guided by
the aim to have them forget that they*
are old. To say the least, it is bad
form to do and act in such a manner
as to continually remind some old
grandma that she is nearlng the end
of her course, when sho might bo do
ing her level best to forgot it.
Games Are Old as Guests.
Of course, many of the older guest*
will indulge in cards, chess or check
ers, while others will find their greats
est pleasure in assisting the children*
But for those that really want to play
games in which all can join try these
and don't be surprised if one of your
guests remarks:
"Why, I played that game when Z
was a child."
Rather expect it —for very little in
the celebration of Christmas is new.
Game of Plum Pudding."
This game has been played for years
in this country under many names, but
as near as can be learned the above
name is proper.
A round piece of wood or a tin pan is
provided and titled "Plum Pudding.**
The company proceed to choose part
ners by fixing upon two generals, Geni
Kettle and Gen. Pot.
These officers then commence choos
ing alternately soldiers from among
the company, performing the cere
mony of conferring title with some
unique speech. Kisses might do in
place of words when the soldier is a
woman.
The titles should be confined to
names familiar iu the culinary art, as
Lieut. Gen. Duck or Carver, Maj. Gen.
Muffin or Pork, Col. Coffee Pot or Car
rot, Maj. Corkscrew or Ladle, and Pri
vate Potato or Poach, and so forth un
til all the players have been chosen.
The game begins with Gen. Kettle,
who takes tho "Plum Pudding" (the
jjlate) between his finger and thumb,
ready for spinning on tho table or
floor, and commences his narrative
thus:
"As I was sitting on the fire this
morning, sputtering with rage at hav
ing no enemy to boil, who should come
along in a bag and string but old Plum
Pudding. The moment he caught
sight of me he ran off, I after him.
When turning around a corner I saw
Maj. Corkscrew —"
At this word Gen. Kettle spins the
"Plum Pudding," which it is Maj.
Corkscrov/'s duty to keep up and con
tinue tho story until he mentions
"Plum Pudding" and the assumed
name of another player.
Forfeits are exigible for letting the
"Plum Pudding" fall, for speaking of
yourself fcs a human being and for
falling to continue the story properly,
as by failing in the narrative by call
ing an enemy by a wrong title.
When enough forfeits have been
collected penalties are then imposed
by tho two generals, tho performance
of which is required beforo the forfeit
la returned.
3