IN A GERMAN HOSPITAL.
'Where the < lu-KI iiimn Anggel Visit.
Sun.TiliK Children.
In one of the German lio.s]>itMls of our;
country is observed a custom quite in
accordance with the beautiful sent i
ment the Germans weave about Christ
mas.
Christmas belongs to the children—
everybody knows that -but it belongs:
to theiu in a deeper, more beautiful!
sense than "everybody" knows. One
is reminded of it, however, if he wit
nesses such a scene as is portrayed in
this hospital on Christinas eve. One of
the nurses dresses in a long, soft flow
ing robe of white, bearing in her hand
a flr bough covered with snow. The
snow Is cotton sprinkled with diamond:
dust. This Is the Christmas angel.
The children are told of the gentle
Visitor and wait In their little cots.
When darkness is outside tliey hear the
strains of sweet music In the distance.
The nurses are singing Christmas car
ols, and the sounds come through open
doors. Then the Christmas angel
comes. She goes to each little cot,
bending over each little form to listen
to the whispered secrets. Each one
tells her what he wants on Christmas
day. Then, with a tender word, she
passes out, and to the sound of the car
ols they ail fall asleep—those who can
slip away from pain.
When the day dawns all the children
are taken into the kindergarten. Some
are carried, some are rolled, and some
can walk. Sure enouglt. each finds
there what he asks for—drums and
dolls and trumpets and books. On a
long, low table is a plate for each one.
tilled with candies and queer little Ger
man cakes. On one wall is a tableau of
the Nativity made of small wax figures,
and a painting on the wall completes
the perspective of hills and shepherds
and the guiding star. Hanging from
the wall in the center of the ward is a
large hoop covered with laurel. At In
tervals around it are set lighted can
dles. It is suspended from the ceiling
by four wide ribbons.
In the fever ward, where the con
tagious diseases are cared for.the little
patients of course cannot leave, but
they have their Christmas too. Two
large, fine spruce trees stand in each
end of the ward, brilliantly illuminat
ed by tiny, many colored electric lights.
—Philadelphia North American.
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MINKBE i
A Christmas Story by Louis Tracy
Illustrated by Henderson and Jones
Read It
You will be delighted with the story and »
the way we have gotten it up.
Continued from last week. Will be concluded next week.
A LOST ILLUSION.
Sn«lle*M Santa ( luiiN Wn H Only .John
ny Multir* Papa.
The loss of part of Santa Clans' dis
guise at a Christmas Sunday school en
tertainment and the consequent dis
covery that "he was only a man after
all" caused one little girl at least
acute distress.
Spnta Claus was one of the cherished
ideals of Sadie's childhood, and Sadie
parted with her Ideals reluctantly. She
was sure she heard the reindeers scam
per over the roof every Christmas eve.
and the fact that even the gas ligs
were a pretty tight fit for the chimney
did not dispel the Illusion that some'iow
Santa Claus, despite his corpulence,
managed to slip through the tiny slit
with his pack and leave presents on
tree and in stocking.
So when she saw on the Sunday
school platform his hoary head and
beard, fur trimmed coat, fat stomach
and short legs—and, above all, hls»pack
—she greeted the familiar figure with
enthusiastic applause. Unfortunately
for Sadie's peace of mind, however, the
hoary hair and beard became entangled
In the branches of the Christmas tree
when Santa Claus began to hang up the
contents of his pack, and when he
withdrew his head, sans hirsute adorn
ment, he revealed the familiar features
of a prominent churchman. Then the
assemblage was startled by a desolate
wail that suddenly rent the air.
"Oh," sobbed Sadie, "there ain't any
Santa Claus! He's only Johnny Smith's
papa!"— New York Press.
True (lirintniUM Cliarltj.
Last Christmas, says the Des Moines
Register, clad in rich raiment, Mrs.
Arthur Hyde, the handsome wife of a
Des Moines millionaire, faced a bitter
wind from noon until 5 o'clock in the
afternoon holding in her hand the regu
lation Salvation Army turkey contribu
tion box, which she took from the
hands of Captain Mary Taylor, after
telling the latter to return to the bar
racks, eat her dinner and remain in
doors until sent for. Attracted thither
by the strange spectacle, money of all
denominations was dropped in the box.
and when Captain Taylor came to re
sume her work at 5 o'clock, besides a
well filled contribution box she receiv
ed a large roll of bills from Mrs.
Ayde's own poeketbook.
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 17, 1908.
I through tin- drawing room window, yelled "Yah!" at him. That set- I
tie;! it. HP came after IMP and jumped up al in Y hit.
'•Race you to the station,'' lie said, pretending he hadn't seen j
M inkie.
'"Right," said 1, ' hut, to make a niateh of it, yon ought, to gpt Mole j
to harness you to his little girl's toy pram."
This remark seemed to hurt his feelings, but 1 didn't know then !
about the rat-tatling messenger boy. Anyhow, he met the doctor's ;
poodle in the village, so lie joined us at the station in a good temper.
When the train arrived it brought heaps of people. It always puz
zles me that folk should gorge more at Christmas time than any other.
Every man, woman and child carried half a dozen parcels, and
nearly every parcel held something to eat.
' Mr. Orosvenor hasn't come, miss," said Jim when the crowd
thinned.
'"Who said he was coming?" asked Minkie.
'"Well, Evangeline thought"—
''Evangeline never thinks. The doctor has warned her against it.
If ever she tries to do anything of the kind the excitement will kill her.
No, Jim. Dad has told a Mr. Schwartz to come on by this train and
make himself at home until he joins him later. Schwartz is German
for black. Most Germans are dumpy. But things often go bv con-
traries. Our greengrocer is
named Brown, so Mr. Schwartz
should be a tall, thin man, with
straw hair and white eyebrows."
Nail my shoes, she wasn't far
out of it! A humpbacked porter
came along with a couple of port
manteaus, followed by a heavy
swell who was up to specification
except as to the color of his hair,
which was chestnut.
"This is Mr. Grosvenor's car
riage, sir," said the porter.
"Oh, indeed! And you are
Miss Millicent, I suppose?" said
the newcomer, grinning at
Minkie.
"Are you Mr. Schwartz?" she
asked, and Dan inspected his
calf, because Minkie's tone told us she had taken a violent dislike to
the visitor at first sight.
"Yes," he smirked, being so busy looking at her that he paid no
heed to the porter, who was waiting for his tip.
"Well, if you give the porter a shilling I'll drive you to our place.
Mother is expecting you."
"Are you particular as to the exact amount?" he inquired, still
grinning. In fact, lie was one of those silly men who believe that you
must laugh when you want to be amiable, so please imagine Mr.
Schwartz always guffawing—at least not always, because he could
scowl very unpleasantly at times. Tickle my withers, we made Ivm
scowl all right before we were through with him.
"Xo," said Minkie, giving the porter just one little look. "As it is
Christmas time you might make it half a crown."
Schwartz got his hand down quick. Because he was a rich man ho
thought tuppence would be ample. He produced a florin, but Minkie
spotted it.
"If you haven't another sixpence L can lend you one," she said
sweetly, and I saw Dan licking his lips when he heard her speak in
that way.
"Don't trouble," said Schwartz rather shortly, and he handed the
porter 3 shillings. That was another of liis queer ways. He liked
to impress people, but cheaply. He wanted a girl of fourteen to
realize what a grand person he was, yet lie was afraid she would
spring him up to a crown or even half a sovereign if he didn't make
haste.
Then Minkie made room for him bv her side, and Dan hopped
I „ , in too.
t L "Is that dog yours?" he inquired.
"And does your father permit a beast with
muddy paws to sit in his carriage ?"
"Not often," said Minkie, looking at his boots.
T N Y& "Dandy, you wicked imp, get out at once."
jj' Dan took a header into the roadway and ran
t up alongside me, barking for all he was worth.
"Tell you what, Bob," ho cried, nearly choking himself with joy,
"this red headed chap is going to find trouble. lie is sure to drop into
the stable tomorrow. I'll keep you posted in affairs inside the house,
and when I give you the office you'll let him have both heels in the
right place, eh ?"
"I'll do mv best," I coughed, and Jim wondered what was the
matter, as there are no Hies about in winter time.
Meanwhile Minkie took Schwartz in hand, and my long ears were
not given me for amusement.
"We thought you were not coining until next week," she said, by
way of being polite.
"I finished some business in Paris sooner than I expected, and Mr.
ilrosvenor was good enough to ask me to spend Christmas and New
Year at Dale End. I shall enjoy the visit, immensely, lam sure. I
have not had a Christmas at home for many years."
"At home?" Minkie raised her large blue eves so innocently. I
knew exactly how she looked, and I rattled my harness t<* tell her I
was listening.
"Yes; in England, I mean."
"Ah !'"
"Don't you call England 'home' too?"
"Of course, but I live here."
"So do I."
"Sorry. I fancied you just said you had been in some other coun
try for a long time."
"Well, I'm a bit of a cosmopolitan, 1 admit. Do you know what I
ft cosmopolitan is?"
"It means anything hut English."
Mr. S«-:iw»irtz roared. "Gad," he cried, "that is not so far wrong."
An old gentleman passed us in a mail phaeton drawn by a pair of
fat cobs, your bellows to mend and step short sort. They don't like me
m
because I always make a point <>! giving them the dust in summer, GO
one of them snorted, "Station hack !"
"(ioing to have a shave?" I asked quite civilly, he being all of a
lalher.
Minkie gave the old gentleman a smile and a bow. lie was rather
surprised, which was reasonable enough, seeing that she usually sails
along without seeing anybody, but he got his hat off in good time.
"Who is that?" inquired Schwartz.
"Jack's uncle," said M inkie.
"Jack is a friend of yours, eh?"
"llin—yes, but he—perhaps I shouldn't say anything about it.
Jack is twenty-five, you see."
"Oh, is lie ?" Schwartz was not smiling now. It was easy to guess
that by his voice. "I suppose he is better acquainted with your sister
than with you ?"
"Yes, heaps."
"Wh»*. is his other name?"
"Percival Stanhope."
"Mr. John Percival Stanhope, in fact? Odd that I should not
have heard of him if he is such a great fripnd of the family."
"Dolly doesn't say much about him. He's in India, and India is
such a long way off."
"Jolly good job. too, or you would be frizzling today." Mr.
Schwartz was brightening up again.
"I think you are mistaken," said Minkie quietly. "Jack saya it is
ever so cold in the Punjab at Christmas time."
"Does he write to you, then ?" demanded Schwartz.
"Xo; that was i:i a letter to Dolly."
"A recent letter ?"
"He was talking about Christmas two years ago. But please don't
mention him to her. We have no right to discuss her affairs, have we ?"
"Xo, no; of course not. It, was just by way of conversation, eh ?"
"That is the cemetery," said Minkie, pointing to a low tree lined
wall in the distance. "Some day, if you like, I shall take you there
and show you his mother's grave."
"Thanks, but I am not fond of cemeteries, as a rule."
"Perhaps you would prefer to be cremated?"
"I haven't considered the matter."
"But you ought to. You are quite old, nearly forty, and I saw in a
pill advertisement the other day that forty is a dangerous age if your
liver is out of order."
"Here, young lady, not quite so fast, please. How do you know I
am forty, and why do you think I have a diseased liver?"
"It said so in the paper."
"The deuce it did."
"Yes; in one of those little spicy bits, telling von all about people,
you know. It said, 'Mr. Montague Schwartz is one of the coming
men.' You are Mr. Montague Schwartz, aren't you ?"
"Go on—do."
"Well, it went on: 'His rise has been meteoric. At twenty he
quitted the paternal fried fish ship
in the Mile End road, at thirty he
was running a saloon and other in
dustries at Kimberley, and at forty
he is building a mansion in May
fair.' There was a lot more, but
now you see how I know your
age."
"It is perfectly clear. There
only remains the liver."
"I got that from the pill adver
tisement. There are several sure
signs of congestion, and you have
all of them in your faee and eyes.
Shall I show it to you ( Those
pills might cure you."
"Really, you are too kind for
words. May I ask if your sister
shares your knowledge of my ca-
reer and state of health ?"
''Did I show her the paper, do you mean ?"
"Yes."
"Xo; I had forgotten all about it, but it' you would like her to
see it"—
"Look here, Miss Miitfocnt, you are a sharp girl. Now, I'll make a
bargain with you. Find that paper, say no more about the paragraph
—which, I may tell you, is rank nonsense from start to finish—and
your Christmas box will be 5 sovereigns."
"Done/' said Minkie coolly. "And here we are at Dale End.
Mile End—Dale; End. Funnv, isn't it, how names run together that
way occasionally."
Before Jim led me around 1o the stable I heard Mam express her
surprise that Mr. Schwartz had come alone. She had expected her
husband by the same train. And she did not know Millicent had gone
in the victoria. How on earth did the child recognize Mr. Schwartz,
as she had never seen him ?
"I rather fancy your younger daughter would pick me out in the
fit rand if she were so minded," explained the visitor cheerfully.
"I hope she did not bore you by her chatter," said dear, innocent
Mam. "Or perhaps she was in one of her silent moods?"
"Xo. We got along famously. Didn't we, Millicent?"
"It was a nice drive," said Minkie; "not too cold, and the village,
is quite gay."
"Well, I find the air rather chilly," said Main. "Why are we all
standing here? Come into the drawing room, Mr. Schwartz. Dor
othy is there, and we shall have tea brought a little earlier than usual.
Evangeline, tell James to tak<> Mr. Schwartz's portmanteaus to the
blue room."
Of course I should not have heard what happened next if Tibbie
had not looked into see me that night. As a matter of fact, the gang,
does not miss much in the way <»1 gossip. One or the other of us is
always on hand. And that purvc!, though he is no friend of mine, is a
terror for picking up news. .nm i./'igs his cage on a tree opposite mv
door every fine moruiiuj'. and the things lie tells ine are surprising.
I le h:'s hardly :: good word for anybody, but, then, what a dull world
it would ! iwo only t./l'.! the lit ■> things about our friends. Whv,
»VO shoitid :";11 i>:- du":il> oon.
Dm trW! to sneak in bel-Ind "M/.ikie, but Mam had iftr eye on him. .