A Christmas Carol.
All this night thrill ohanUoleer,
Day's proclaiming trumpeter,
Claps his wings sad loudly cries,
■artel*, mortal*, wake and rim,
See a wonder,
Heaven la under;
from the earth Is risen s Sun
Shine* all night, though day be done.
■ah*, oh, rnrth 1 wake everything.
Wake and bear the Joy I tiring;
Wake and Joy for all thi* night,
Hmvan and every twinkling tight ;
All
Still atand gaaing i
Angela, power*, and all that be.
Wake and Joy this Sun to ess.
Hall, oh. Bun ! Oh, blamed Light,
■tat unto the world by night,
L*t Thy rays end heavenly power*
Rhine in thi* dark aoul of our* ;
for moat rarely
Thou art truly
Ood end men, we do ooofem:
Hail, oh. Bun of Rlghteooraes*.
A Tale of Three Yuletides;
■RDM A BACHELOR'S CHRISTMAS KXVB
LATIONH TO A VERY TOCNO LADY.
Tali you a story f I believe, little
Amy. you could coax a Christmas story
from even the giant Biunderbore, who,
as you know, was rsther s cheerless and
uncivil fellow. So settle yourself in my
lap—don't be afraid to bng me too close
—and listen.
Being by this time well aware of the
exact number of watch charms in my
possession, yon ore surely muoh trou
bled to find ont why of late I
eeiry about a many-dinted old Roman
coin, in preference to a large stone
mounted in gold, or s little Chineee
idol, or even s gold dollar, with the
whole Declaration of Independence
stamped on one side. Ton most under
stand, as yon are a sad little flirt, that
ornament* of the latter sort are mnch
affected by your many gentleman ac
quaintances. Let me account for my
etrange behavior. As the coin bangs
from my watch chain, so by the coin
hangs a tale, whioh runs after this fash
ion :
It is now some fourteen years since I
was living in Rome. I was only s very
young and inexperienced artist then,
you know ; and I didn't wear such an
immense beard and whiskers as are now
coquetting with your dear golden curls.
And, what is more, I was not so extrav
agantly wealthy in those days as yon
suppose me to be, now that I sm your
Uncle Coventry and am able to daily ex
tract a few pennies from my pocket, to
be instantly converted by you into tarts
at the nearest baker's shop. Ton will
believe, then, that I was rsther well
pleased than otherwise when a beautiful
lady, all dressed in silks and satins and
blazing with jewels, rnstled into my ;
humble stndio, one fine September
morning. Was she a fairy princess?
Oh, no ; not quite. But she did there !
and then inquire whether I would be
willing to paint a portrait of her fonr
year-old daughter, Bianoa, which she
intended aa a Christmas present for the
little dear's grandmother. I should have
informed yon that Bianca was present
also, and had quickly interested herself
among my brightest pictures. What
sort of a little girl was she? Well, in
due gallantry and with allowances for
the difference of climate, I moat not my
that she was prettier than yon or that
her hair was a trifle more shining. I
took her offer immediately, and it was
arranged that Bianoa should visit my
studio three or four times s week, in
eoopany with her mother or nurse or
uncle, and ait as still ss s church mouse
for ten minutes, which latter was s mat
ter of dreadful vexation to her, as it
would be to you also, Miss Amy. Bi
nes and myself became Arm friends,
although she would pout and and pre
taqd to be awfnlly mad with me when I
would insist upon her keeping a sober
fan for a second together, or stop tor
maoting the whiskers sod soul of an
aucient cat, who was the partner of my
toys and sorrows. She was born in
Venice, where most of the golden-haired,
blue-eyed children of Italy come from.
Har mother owned a whole village in
the province of Venice, and her father,
who had been a very great man at Rome,
waa long sinoe dead
One day my lovely little model, " mv
Bianca," as I nsed to call her—(don't
pull my beard so bard, I verily believe
you are jealous, little Amy)—one day
Manes earns to my studio with her
ueels. Count Lnigi, whom I then be
held for the first time. He waa the
broiber-in-law of the oonteasa, Waa be
isweb like me? I hope not. Too
Shouldn't like him for en uncle et all;
mi 1 am certain Bianca did not. He
waa tall and dark and mysterious, and
Ida yellow face waa decorated fay a pair
of black, fiery eyes, that were entirely
too neat to he honest; likewise by a
hooked nose, and a coal-black mustache,
the ends of which were continually flnd
a their way between hi* .beautiful
te teeth. Uncle Lnigi seemed to me
vaatiy like one of the ogres, magicians,
er wicked knights addicted to stealing
pretty maids from their castle boudoirs,
of whom you have read a good deal in
your hooka. I did not admire this gen
tleman from the first; and our meeting
was pretty mnch the same as the distant
acquaintance of two ioebergs. lam not
quite aure that Bianca's mother liked
him; bnt she appeared to be too weak
mi aaaily managed to express her want
•f affection forhim.
My picture progressed famously, and
—(paint a picture of yon? Certainly,
my love. We will have it ready for
you next birthday)—and when the first
week of December closed I had delivered
my picture to the Oonteasa di Oasa
htenca, receiving in exchange a cheek
su a Roman bank for a mcat agreeable
sum of moooy. The portrait waa to be
taken to Venice, and duly presented to
the grandmother on Christmas day. It
reprisal)ted Bianca smiling, and dressed
in B low-necked silk gown, with a neck
lace of pearls mund her throat. Prom
the necklace hong this same old Roman
ha, whioh her papa had picked up
idat the walls of Borne. Some Roman,
maybe Julius Omar, had dropped it
there two thousand year# ago.
The oonteaea had promised to pay me
a farewell visit before departing for the
north of Italy. The appointed day had
arrived, and I had gone to the extrava
ganoe of donning an entirely newauit of
clothes to reoeive and entertain my
guests. 1 waited and fidgeted ; bnt no
visitors. No kind, tender oonteaea; no
angelio Bianoa; no perfldioua-lookinS
nnole appeared. When the night aet in,
I felt angry and disgusted, little Amy,
because I thought my Venetian ac
quaintances had left Rome, forgetful of
me. The following morning I went to
the dwelling of the oonteasa, to disoover
whatever I could oonoerning her de
parture. Judge of my surprise on learn
ing that the lady had not yet departed.
I was shown into the drawing-room by a
servant on whose face I detected the
signs of some trouble ; and I waited tor
the rustle of the oontessa's drees in the
doorway. But this was not to be. In
her place came Bianca's nurse, pale and
with eyes but newly-dried from weeping.
Sinking into a chair, she almost sobbed
to me the following words :
"Oh I Bignor Pembroke, the oon
teasa is in an agony. We were going to
see you yesterday, when the oonteasa
asked for Bianoa. She had been play
ing on the steps but a minute before,
and then it was impossible to find her.
'the house, the garden, the streets, all
have been searched ; bnt in vain. We
cannot find my little Bianoa, Some one
has stolen her away. And my mistress I
she will surely (lie 1"
Nothing beyond this oould I discover
from any one. Bianca had disappeared
as completely and hopoleesiy as though
the earth had opened and swallowed
her. It was not proper for me to in
trude my presence upon the great grief
of the oontesea's household. I sadly
withdrew, full of anxiety for the sweet
child, whom I had learned to love.
No effort was spared by the oonteasa
and the Roman polioe, and apparently
by Count Lnigi, to recover the lost
Bianca. But the attempts were utterly
useless ; and the mother, sick at heart,
returned to her home, taking with her
my picture, which cruel fate seemed to
havo transformed from a Christmas
present to a sacred memento of an angel
forever flown.
Now don't interrupt me. I have not
finished jet. I am going to relate a
rather odd incident that happened be
fore the time of Bianca's disappearance.
Late one night I was crossing the bridge
of Bant' Angelo, which spans the Tiber.
I was thinking overtbe finishing touches
to my child picture, when I suddenly
became aware of a boat passing nnder
me. Prompted by curiosity, I leaned
over the battlement of the bridge and
listened. A man was standing in the
boat, speaking and geeticnlating to the
rowers. I saw him clearly in the fall
moonlight, and I was almost sure that
he was the Count Lnigi. Only a few
words oonld I catch from the speakers,
and they were these, spoken by the
rough voice of some low rascal of the
Roman populace:
" In tre fttimane la bamhina *ara "
(in three weeks the little girl shall
be )
The rest of the sentence I oonld not
hear; but the words were enough to
excite a strong suspicion in my mind,
when I connected them with Bianca's
disappearance. Oonld the man have
really been the Count Lnigi ? I dared
uot reveal to any one what my mind
suggested namely, that Bianca had
aetnally been made away with by her
uncle, bargained into the bands of a
parcel of sconndrela. How oonld I
prove it? What reason oonld I give for
bis committing snch a crime ? More
over, be waa a powerful man at Rome,
and oould make tbe place exceedingly
uncomfortable for me if hia soger were
once raised against me. Confident that
onr Divine Father would in the end un
ravel tbe tarrible mystery, I betook my
self to my painting again. Tbe gener
ons oonteasa had not only paid me far
beyond what my toil deserved, bnt bad
recommended me to the great families
at Rome. I suppose I oonld paint
tolerably well then, and [my patrorage
increased daily.
Heron roar* passed an, my Amy. and
your uncle had in that time become *ooh
a grand artist and earned w> much
money that he thought he would oome
over the water to his old home in New
York. Accordingly, I hired my little
stndio down town and commenced Irani
neee at once. I did not hare rery long
to wait for patrons. A gentleman call
ed in one October day and oonreraed
with me about a picture he wanted
painted to order for bis art gallery.
"I hear yon are from Rome," said
he. " Yon must be a great painter. I
want yon to make me a picture of a
child who has woke np on Christmas
morning and found her stocking cram
med with good things. And mind yon,
the child ronst be rery beautiful."
" All right," said I. " Call on Mon
day next and I shall hare my sketch
ready for yon,"
Yon know artists most generally hare
models for snob pictures. Henoe I set
myself to work to secure one; but I
found this was a difficult fcb. Now, if
yon had been a young 4ady then, I
should hare ocrtainly had son sit for
my painting. But my model name from
an entirely unexpected quarter, I bad
left my studio one craning, and was
walking up town through an out-of-the
way street, when I beard the muaio of a
barp and rioliu, just aa they oound
when the Italian players oome under
yonr windows to dries yon crasy with
their awful performances. On drawing
nearer, I discorered a dark-complexion
ed and handsome Italian bor twanging
an accompaniment on his harp to an
outlandish song, and near him a young
girl airily and delicately drawing her
bow across a battered fiddle. Hcciog
ma, she stopped, approached, and, hold
ing out bar band piteously, said:
" Oh 1 mister, gif a poor girl a few
pennies. The pad roue will be beat ns
if we go bade without money; and ws
here had nothing to eat. Ob I miater,
do, please!"
I was touched, and the pennies so
dearly needed quickly came forth. The
girl wee uncommonly beautiful, I
thought, for a street-waif. Bhs had
yellow hair, partly bidden in HO old
pink mnffier, and sweet wide blue eyes,
and rooh a nose, month and dimpled
chin—ail Ilka yours, mjr lore. Her fees
was tanned a little by the sun of many
days in the pitiless streets. Her attire
waa a many-patched ootton drees, of no
particular color; and her feet were
covered by great clumsy ahoea, anch aa
onr grocery boy wear*. How old waa
ahe ? I should Bay about ten or eleven,
and her male eaoort waa oertainly not
mnoh older. Aa 1 atood looking at her,
the thought atrnok me that I ought to
take her aa my model.
" Come here." aaid Ito her. "Why
do yon live with the padrone (don't in
terrupt me again, miaa. I will tell yon
shortly what a padrone ia), when be
beata yon ?"
"I have no other home," the poor
girl replied. "The police would take
me if I alept in the street*, and maybe
ahnt me up forever."
"Wouldn't yon like to go to a nicer
home, and have plenty to eat and deoent
clothea, and get paid for eaay work I"
"Oh I air, ahe almoet 800 bed, aa if
the happiness 1 spoke of were too great
to 'drink of.
1 Listen," I continued. "If you will
| leave the padrone, I will get you a com
-1 fortable place to live in, with a nioe old
lady to take oare of you."
I Unaccustomed as the child was to
kindness from stranger*, she clearly re
garded me with doubt, and, looking at
> the harp-player, who was observing me
1 with considerable interest, answered:
" But I won't leave Jiaoomo. He is
. good to me. He gives me half his bread
when I am very hungry."
I " Will you come with me if Jiaoomo
1 comes ? " I asked.
1 " Yea, air."
I "Then step this way, Jiaoomo," I
said to him. " How would you like to
' leave the padrone, and to live with peo
-1 pie who will take oare of yon ? You
1 will have work to do and be well paid."
I Jiaoomo took off his hat, and, smiling
' ly looking me in the faoe with good
' natured, honest eyes, replied : " Yon
' are too good, sir. I wonld like to go, if
' ahe may come with me ; but if the pa
drone ever catches ns he will kill us
> both."
' " Have no fear of the padrone," I
' said. "If he makes any trouble, we
' will have him arrested and pnt into
prison."
Thia bold declaration of mine settled
the matter, and I hud little further trou
' ble in persuading them to accompany
me to my studio, There I intended to
have them stay or the time being.
Tbey must have thought that I was the
1 city governor, or at least a police cap
tain. Fancy your grave and deeorons
Uncle Coventry marching down Broad
way at nightfall, followed by a couple of
delighted mountebanks. The janitor of
the bnilding in which my studio was
localed mast have thought I had gone
raving mad, and be greeted me with a
look of blank surprise when I appeared
at hia doorway, with my extraordinary
companions. " Now, then, air," said I
to him, " be spry, and run up-staira and
build a roaring fire in my grate; and then,
sir, prepare a hearty sapper for these
famished children." The musical in
struments of niy two frienda were de
posited in one corner of my studio, and
in a very short time the children were
seated before snch a supper aa they had
conceived of only in blissful dreams. I
next bade tbe the janitor's wife provide
them with comfortable beds. When I
waa preparing to leave, the happy child
ren wished to kiaa me ; and I graciously
agreed, promising them tbey should see
me early in tbe morning.
Now, while they are auppaaed to be
asleep, I shall tell you what you seem
dying to know—namely, what a padrone
ia. lie is an old curmudgeon, who re
ceives stolen children from Italy, and
makes tbem go ont into the street to
beg. or play, or steal—usually all throe.
And if they do not obtain money in some
war, he beats tbem and packs them off
to bed aupperless. What do yon think !
of that, little girl ?
Rut about my street acquaintance*:
It was decided upon next day that
Jiaoomo should keep my studio in order,
! while his companion wonld ait for my
Christmas picture. The pair were placed ,
in charge of my janitor's wife, with the
strictest commands that due care should
b taken, lent they might again fall into
the hands of tbe padrone. In order to
make my modal aa happy-looking as i
possible, I provided her with a box o!
bou bona, and seated her oa a beautiful i
rug, amidst the rare and curious little '
objects of my studio. Yea, I shell bring
yon to my studio some day; only yon
meat promise not to pot things (Sato a
k o hopeless oonfurion. I was showing j
her how to pose, when, suddenly, ss it
some long • forgotten thought' flitted
across her mind, she said quickly:
"Oh I I know bow to ait, air. I bad
my picture taken before—many, many
years ago."
" Indeed I" I replied. " How waa
that?"
" In—in Roma; when 1 was a hamhina.
before my mamma died. Tbe men said
she was dead. Then I came to live
with the padrone. It waa many daya
before I eeme here. We had to aail on
the water in a ship. Oh I ever so large
a ship!"
" And what ia your name ?" I asked.
"Tbe padrone oalla me Carmen
Carmen Tortolant."
It waa tbe common story, I thought,
of a child, an orphan, taken from Italy
to a hard life in America. I oould not
gather any more knowledge of her
earlier tile from Jiaoomo, who waa
standing by. I turned to my paper, to
commence sketching her, when it oc
curred to me that a necklace would look
pretty on little Carmen. I stepped to
a cabinet, saying:
" I am going to give you a necklace.
Can-men. One of bright heeds."
"Oh I How nioe I But, ae% I have
an old one. Only aa ugly penny tied
to a string."
She removed it from her neck. I had
not noticed it before, and oereW-ly took
it in my baud. Never waa I so sur
prised in my Ufa. The penny, aa ahe
celled it, waa actually the same coin
that now banga from my watch-chain,
the aame that my early friend, Bianca
di Oasabianca had worn.
" Where on earth did you get thia F*
I cried, hardly abb to stand still with
excitement.
" I always wore it, air."
" What did you say your name waa ?"
" Carmen. But I know they used to
mil me Bianca when I was a baby."
" And do you recollect your mamma'a
tsmic
"I only called bar rraiumn, air, I
don't know that aha had any other
i**" Do yon, perhapa, remember the
name of the artist who painted your
picture?"
"I don't think 1 do. It was—like—
Pem "
"Pembroke, perhaps?"
" Yes I yes I Pembroke I Signor
Pembroke I
My street-waif then waa none other
that Bianca di Casablanca! I caught
the little girl to my heart and kiaaed
her, saying : "I amSignorPembroke.
Do yon know me ?"
" I think I have heard your voice
long ago; but your whiskers are so
great.
I asked her a few more questions, and
her answers more clearly proved her to
be the Bianca of my drat artist days.
But I oould extract nothing from her to
verify my suspicions of her Uncle
Luigi. Although overjoyed to be the
means of reaouing her from the crudest
of lives, I was now seriously troubled by
the thought that Bianoa'a mother had,
perhaps,died in the seven years that had
elapsed since the beginning of my
story. At any rate, 1 determined to
write to her address in Lombardy and
take the steps necessary to have Bianca
returned to her family. I bade my
model play to her heart's content, and
rnmmaging in my desk for the oontes
sa's address, I found it, and before
nigbfall I had dispatched a long letter
to Italy.
1 did not explain matters folly to
Bianca, preferring to await the reaulta
of my letter to her mother. Weeks
passed quickly by and my picture waa
on the verge of being completed. Bian
ca's face waa losing more and more of
ita tan and Jiaoomo bad beoome quite
a fashionable young gentleman and waa
showing a marvelous taste for drawing.
One morning, a few days before Christ'
mas, there was a great commotion on
my stairway. I opened the door, and,
as I live, there was Bianca in her moth
er's arms, and the pair hogging and
kissing each other and crying as tliongh
they wonld never stop I I retreated very
quickly, my Amy and your Uncle Cov
entry was actually weeping too. Just
think of it 1 Coventry Pembroke, artist,
in tears! And I believe there wasn't a
dry eye in the whole building when all
the artists knew what had transpired.
In a little while the oonteasa came
into my studio. I kissed her baud and
bore myself like a hero. Never waa
three people so happy.
Many explanations followed. I in
quired after the health of Count Luigi—
out of pure frieudlineaa, you know.
"Luigi ia in prison, said the con
team.
" Indeed 1" I burst out " I thought
be would arrive there some time."
" He was convicted of being concern
ed in a conspiracy against tbe govern
ment At tbe time of his trial three
Roman desperadoes, who were being
tried for heavy crimes in the aame court,
testified to a previous crime which he
had hired them to perform. And yon
wonld not think what this crime waa."
I bad my idea, bnt remained silent
" He bad contracted with tbem," con
tinued the conteaae, "to steal Bianca
from me and hide her forever from the
world. My hnsband's will declared
that, if I died childless and without
marrying again, my brother-in-law,
Luigi, would come into my whole for
tune. Bianca being my sole hoir, tbe
count calculated upon acquiring ray
wealth when he should have removed
her from his path."
Here waa the mystery solved at last.
I straightway oouieaaed my early opin
ions of tbe Count Li.gi to the oonUwea,
and likewise the story of tbe incident at
the bridge of Bant' Angelo. From
thoughts of the perfidy of thia man, we
turned to thaak beaver for having thus
marveloualy outwitted hia schamea. Had
it not been for thia ancient coin, whose
seaming useleaaoeaa had, preserved it
from the greediness of Bianoa'a captors,
a mother and daughter had died un
happy and far from each other's arms.
Bo ends the atorv of the aeoond Christ
mas, which bring* us up to the present.
And what became of Bianca and Jia
com? Well. I have a letter in my
desk from Bianca, who returned with
her mother to Venice, informing me
that the oonteasa had blessed bar mar
riage engagement with Jiaoomo. She
inclosed tbe ooin, saying that, aa it
waa the cause of all her happiness, it
waa the dearest routimir she con 11 give
me. Jiaoomo went to Rome some years
ago, and ia rapidly turning out to be a
arrest artist—greater even than your
Uncle Coventry. I believe the oontea
sa defrayed the expense of hia prepara
tory education, and she is doubt leas
even now helping bim on, And be de
serves it; for be is a raid genius, and
has noble blood in hia veins.
Now, don't ask me to detail tbe pri
vate history of the padrone end tbe des
peradoes, You are positively drowsy
and I want to smoke. I think yoa bad
better go to bed, ea Santa Clans has in
surmountable objections to AUing young
people's stocking* while they are yet
awake.
Tbe Trap Deer MpMer.
Thia spider, found in Jamaica, digs a
burrow in the earth and linee it with a
silken web. The burrow ia closed bye
ti-ap door, having a hinge that permits
it to be opened mid closed with admir
able accuracy. The door ia circular,
and ia made of alternate layers of earth
and web, end ia hinged to tbe lining of
the tube that leads to tha burrow by a
band of tha aame silken secretion. The
door exactly fits the entrance to tbe
burrow, and when closed, so precisely
corresponds with the surrounding earth
that it can hardly be distinguished,
even whan ita position ia known. It is
a atranae sight to see tbe earth open, a
little Udraised, some hairy legs protrude,
and gradually the whole form of the
spider show itself.
The mode in which these spider* pro
cure food seems to be by hunting at
night, and ia some case* by natohing
insects that are entangled in the threads
that the creature spina by the aide of it*
house.
In the day time they are very chary
of opening tbe door of their domicile,
and u the trap is raised from tbe out
ride, they run to the spot, hitch tbe
claws of their fore feet in tbe ailken web
bing of the door, end those of the hind
feet in the lining of the burrow, and so
resist with all their might. Tbe strength
of the spider ia wonderfully greet in
proportion to it* aire.— SkHant
Keeping Christmas la the Olden Time.
In England, in the olden time, a few
daya before Obriatmas, when the bustle
of preparation was at ita height in the
houses of the rich, some of the serving
men would be sent ont into the woods
to cut an enormous log for the back of
the Christmas fire. The flreplaoe was
so large sometime* that the log, which
took several men to lift, could be placed
in it. When it waa selected, it waa
drawn to the kitchen door with songs
and mnoh merriment, and on Obriatmas
eye it was placed at the back of the
wide chimney and a great roaring fire
made in front of it. This waa called
the "Tula Log," and aa long aa it
burned, the men and maids were en
titled to keep holiday. Bometimee they
were cunning enough to wet it well in
the brook, so that it might last the
longer.
When it waa well a-burning, the
merry-making of the evening began by
a very curious procession. First came
a man dreaaed in a long white robe,
made generally by pinning a sheet
aronnd him, with white hair uud beard,
and a crown of holly and mistletoe, rep
resenting Father Christmas ; then fol
lowed a great many singular-looking
figures, each personating some Christ
ma* dish, such aa minoe-oie. boar's
head, or plnrn pudfling ; then followed
one dreaaed in prir*t s rt-bes ; be waa
called the Abbot of Unreason, and after
him came a mixed company, dreaaed in
the moat fantastic way they oould de
vise, and all with some Christmas deoo
ration. The sctora in thia " mumming "
sltow, as it waa called, were generally
servants, farm-hands or poor people
who lived in the neighborhood. The
"mummers" would go about from
bouse to bouse, and everywbero they
were made welcome, and after acting
ont their parts they were entertained
with all manner of good cbeer, in the
great ball, whero fires were sept blaz
ing, and where finally the evening end
ed with a dance, which was joined in
by all the company in the house. The
walls were hung with holly and mistle
toe, and the scarlet berries of the one
and the ptire white of the other made
gay garlands that reflected the light of
the fire cheerily. A branch of mistletoe
hung in the center of the hall, and if
by accident lady happened to stand
lieneath—of oourtc it never happened
except by accident—any gentleman who
canght her there waa entitled to a kiaa,
and somehow there were a good many
kisses generally stolen on Christmas
eve, probably because in dancing the
ladies forgot to look for the mistletoe,
and their partners did not. Many
games were played at Christmas time
then that are now happily almost for
gotten. One waa that of " snap-dragon,"
which occasioned a great deal of sport
In a darkened room a bowl of blazing
spirits of wine waa placed npon the
table, and the party gathered around
it 111 is bowl waa filled with plums,
which were to be snatched from lieneath
the flame without burning the fingers,
and those accustomed to the sport be
came very admit in winning the plums
without gaining any scars. I think we
may be glad that are have ploys leas
rude for our holidays.
In Holland tbey bad a great many
pretty customs In the small towns
and villages a man dreaaed as Hants
Clana, and loaded with presents, wonld
go about the town on Christmas eve,
and knocking at the door of a boose,
wonld inquire whether any good chil
dren lived there, and tbe parents wonld
call the children and tell him how
they had behaved, and whether they
deserved any presents. When thia old
man had gone hia rounds, sod distri
bated bis gifts, mostly amrnir the
younger children, the families would
assemble round tbe Christmas tree, tbe
tapers were lighted, and the presents ot
the parents to tbe children were taken
from the tree, end afterward the cbil
dred presented theirs to their parents.
In England poor children used to go
to the doors of their neighbors and atng
carols, sometimes like thoee now sung
in the churches, and people wonld bring
them ont fruit and cake, and sometimes
money, but always something to make
their eyes dance and their hearts beet
gladly.
A < urtous Petition.
A correspondent who has been rnm
maging in the room devoted to the filiog
!:way of congressional documents, iu tbe
wSaemeot of tbe Capitol at Washington,
aay* : But perhaps the moat curious,
if not the moat important, memorial ia a
very large one, being in feet, three hun
dred and ninety-six feet long, and con
taining thirteen thousand five hundred
signatures, wishing e congressional ap
propriation and the appointment of e
scientific commission for the investiga
tion of tbe alleged phenomena of spirit
ualism. The petitioner*, heeded by
Mr. N. P. Tallmadge, of Fon du Lac",
Wisconsin, urge their memorial on the
following grounds, though I cannot
transcribe their points in fulL Tbey
say, in brief, that " they humbly beg to
observe that oertain physical and men
tal of questionable origin
and mysterious import have of lets oe
cantoned in thia country and engrossed
e large share of public attention." These
phenomena are classified aa follows :
First—Ac occult force exhibited in
sliding, raising, arresting, holding, sus
pending and otherwise disturbing nu
merous ponderable bodies, apparently
in defiance of gravitation. Second—
Lights of various forms and colors and
of different degrees of intensity, appear
in dark rooms. Third—A variety of
sounds, extremely frequent in their oc
currence, widely diversified in their
character and more or leaa mysterious
in their import. There ia obviously a
disturbance of the sensational medium
of tbe auditory nerves, occasioned by aa
unduUtory movement of the air, though
by what means these atmnapheeic undu
lations are produced does not appear to
the satisfaction of acute observers.
Fourth— All thi fun* tintm of th** hmmm
body and mind are often and strangely
influenced by what appear to be certain
abnormal states of the system, and
by nausea which are neither adequately
defined or understood. They wish,
there fore a scientific commission and Bp-
But alas for the hopes of N. P. Tall
madge of Fou du Lao and bit 396 feet of
friends, we And that a gram and ma
terialistic Beasts ordered tha memorial
"to lie upon the table."
A % W a jfc
- ? 4 B'f
A Steam Heating Project.
Kef erring to the permit given a com
pany in New York by the authorities, to
lay pipes underground for the purpose
of heating buildings with steam, the
New York Herald says:
It h in June, 1877, that the flmt
teat of the Holly scheme wee made by
laying half a mile of pi pea underground
in Walnntetreet, Lockport, N. Y., which
enabled a company to learn the exact
capacity of the pipee to carry a team and
tho exact rate of loss by condensation.
The teat waa aatiafactory, and the com
pany were encouraged to lay a longer
line. Three mi lee were laid in all,
there being one continuous length of a
mile and one-third; and the ayatem wae
practically applied along the whole dis
tance to all tho purposes for which it
waa designed. Very little of the piping
waa larger than four inchea diameter;
yet after the experience of laat winter
the ayatem ia said to have worked with
eutireauoeae. The company daring thia
time have been beating about forty
dwelling, a large achool building (106,*-
000 cubic feet), and the lvrgeat hall in
tho city, besides furniahingateam to run
two enginea, one of them about half a
mile distant from the boiler-honae, and
are supplying a team for a number of
other purpoaea. Houses a mile away
are heated aa readily a those near at
hand.
Three boiler* are in position in the
ateam-bouac, two of them horizontal,
five by sixteen feet, and erne upright. In
the coldest weather laat winter two were
fired alowly, but mneb of the time the
ateam had bc*n furnished by a single
boiler. The fire ia, of course, kept up
constantly. Two firemen do all th|work
—one for the day and one for the night.
They can do the same work for 800 or
400 dwellings when that number are
attached along the line. Experiments
aie aaid to demonstrate that with nuffi
cient boiler capacity and pipes of proper
aire, an area of more than fonr mi lea
square in any city or Tillage can be
warmed from one "set of boilera. The
Lockport building ia intended to contain
six boilers; bnt buildings in larger cities
would be provided with a '• battery " of
ten. If one boiler from any cause
should be'diaabled it wonld not "iterfere
with the operations of the others. In
the coldest weather, if necessary, the
whole number can he fired. The arrange
ment of pipes leading from the boiler
building ia aurh that it wonld be impos
sible for any district to be deprived of
steam at any time, since, in case of ae
cidt nt, any one one of the steam mains
can be closed without interfering with
Uie general circuit.
flow i Man (>ees to Bed.
M peaking of bow a man goa to bod,
an exchange say* : •• • There's where a
man has the advantage. He can nn
•lres* in a cold wm, and hare his bed
warm before a woman has got her hair
pins ont and her shoos untied.' That'*
Low it looks in print, and this :■ bow it
jis really : 'l'm going to bed, my dear.
It's half past ten.' No reply. 'Now,
John, yon know yon're always late in
• tb. morning. Do go to bed I' 'Tea, in
! a minute,' be replies, aa he turns the
| paper inside out and begins a lengthy
article beaded ' The Louisiana Muddle*'
Fifteen minute* later abe calls from the
bedroom : 'John, oome to bed and
don't keep the gas burning there all
night I' and murmuring something
1 atxmt ' the bill being big enough now,
she creeps between the oold sheets,
while John roads placidly on, hia feet
| across the piano- stool and a cigar in hia
, month. Ry and-by be rises, yawns,
I at retches himself, threw* the paper on
the floor, and seizing U>* shaker, pro
-1 needs to that rigorous exercise, shaking
] the ooal store. Jnat at this stag* a not
altogether pleasant voice inquires :
j ' For pity's sake ! ain't yon ready for bed
ret V 'Tea, yea, I'm coming! Why
don't yon go to alee" and let a fellow
alone?' Then he discovers that there is
ooal needed. When that is supplied
and rattled into the store, he ait* down
;to warm his feet. Next be slowly be
gins to undrraa; and aa be stands
scratching himself, and absently gazing
on the last garment dangling over the
back of tbe chair, be remembers that
j the clock is not wound yet When this
is attended to be wants a drink of water,
and away he promenades to tbe kitchen.
Of course, when be returns hia akin re
' semblea that of a picked chicken, and
once more he seats himself before the
fire for a loot ' warm np.' As tbe clock
j strikes twelve be turns out tbe gas, and
I with a flop of tbe bedclothes and a few
spasmodic shivers he subside*. No, not
; yet; be forgets to see if tbe front door
1 was locked, end another flop of tbebed
: clothee brings forth the remark : ' Good
1 gracious 1 if that man ain't enough to
! try tbe patience of Job I* Betting her
teeth hard, abe awaits the final flop,
with the accompanying blast of cold
r.ir, and then tiuictlr inquires: 'Are
von settled for the night ?' To which
he replies by muttering : 'lf you
ain't the prorok ingest woman.'"
The Brflltaat Raadelph.
John Randolph, of Roanoke, is the
subject of aa entertaining biography
just published in Richmond. In it is
to be found this picture of Cbe brilliant
Southerner at the age of forty-three;
" His hair was bright brown, straight,
not perceptibly gray, thrown back from
bis forehead and tied into a queue,
neither long nor thick. Hia complex
too was swarthy: his face benrJlrwe
full, round and plump ; hi. eye baa*!;
brilliant, inqn<,!tsve, proud ; hia mouth
was of delicate cast, well suited to a
small bead and faos filled with exquis
ite teeth, well kept an they could be;
hia lips painted, aa it were, with indigo,
indicating day* of vuffertog and nights
of torturing pain. His haads were
fair and delicate as say girl's. Every
CI of bis dress and parson was evi
lly ao-rstomad to the utmost ears.
Hia faos was tbe moat beautiful and at
tractive to aae I had almost ever area.
His manner waa deliberate, beyond any
epeaker I have ever beard. • • • He
stood firm in hia position, his action and
grace seemed to be from tbe knee up.
SK voice waa that of a wet)-toned
' .
g "Qe tea now bonnet for me, went
C dear r she s*i l to hist at break-
Ha imaiad to, and tea when
he saw none la tbe show windows for
lees thaa WO ha did go by all of them.