— om A VISION OF DECEMBER, atone of that, time when the forests are ‘On Titel within the sound of the beifries, Tol ay stical spirits, the months of the YOOSet the chimes a-ringing! With laughter and song they dance in their zest; And deep in the circle their footsteps have Sits ry December, his beard on his t. Set the chimes a-ringing! He thinks not of them, and his mind is away; For he is too old, tooold to be gay Like hoarty October or lily-crowned May, Set the chimes a-ringing! And dissing, still dreaming, he murmurs and socks Fair memories forgotten, the tears on his cheeks; But when the bells burst, he remembers and peaks: Set the chimes a-ringing! “In he Yauch of this night, in the Orient and, ‘Thro’ the pass of the bills which a glory o'er- ned, . I led the Light of the World by the hand!" Set the chimes a-ringing! 1 hey hear him, they heed him, that reverend one, And the words he hath spoken shine out like the sun; Now the wild chant is hushed and the frolic is done. Set the chimes a-ringing! Then sudden for praise and for joy that they owe, They, kissing his feet, kneel them down in the snow; And all for the sake of the Child that we know, Sel the chimes a-ringing! For the star of our hope in the gateways of morn, For the lover of love and the scorner of soon, For the King that iscome, for the Christ that is born. Set the chimes a-ringing! ~ Louise Imogen Guiney. or ———— CHRISTMAS BELLS. i heard the bells on Christmas day Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And thought how, as the day had come, The beifries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Till ringing, singing on its way, world revolved from night to day, A vows, a chime, A chant sublime, Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Bat in despair I bowed my head “There is no oon earth.” I said; *“For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men™ Then pealed the bells more loud and deep, *‘God is not dead, nor doth He slesp! The wrong shall fail, The right prevail, With peace on east, good-will to men!" ~Henry W. Longfellow. ON CHRISTMAS EVE. NOW had been fall p ing early in the day, but so lightly that t only a white fleck here ' and there marked the distant housetops and a thin frosty layer made the stringpiece show in the dark like a glittering line. Down by the water's edge the night was silent and gloomy. } Unly the hoarse gur- : gling of the stream filtering through the slimy piles un. derneath the pier, only the distant swash of a paddle broke upon the monotonous creaking of chains and cables, the same big, stiff ones that Old Tom Saunders had seen make fast the mewly arrived bark at nightfall. He had been striding up and down the bare deck of the dusky canal boat to keep himself warm ever since the stranger had loomed up on the other side of the pier. He had heard screaming in the slip beyond the whistle of the tug boat that had brough her in, and seen the bustling little craft steam away with the sparks and smoke from her tunnel feav ng a luminous trail in the dark. From that the gloom had been thicker about the pier and the damp mist roll ing up from the we had wrapped the shipping in a shroud of moisture. There bad been a clatter of voices for a while on the big bark, and he had been half conscious of fitting lights and hoarse sea orders. but all these had ceased long ago and now the olack hull of the new arrival rcse up in the gloom, solemn and silent, with Ler masts slightly tilted off and a dantern forward gleaming like a dim yellow star, Cld Tom Saupders paced the deck of the dingy hulk fe was on, with his pipe or fast between his teeth and his nds stowed away down in the kets of his threadbare pea- jacket, The bat- tered and decaying boat was no shaboier and more woe-legone than the man, Old Tom he ly virtue of the years that had turned his few straggling locks gray and drawn all sorts of deep furrows across his face. Familiarly Old "Tom among the wharf men, who knew him ns such ever since he had come along on the old canal boat, & broken-down man with a flavor of better times about im. Facetiously Old Tom, in conss- of the fondness for the Hippie him down to h's present low h that nate hich, it was hinted, Eon Old Tom Saunders had once «een “but ho also that nervous twit hing ig of the fin half a groan. “Christmas Eve, and nary a bite in the locker nor a nickel in the pocket! It's blasted hard— blasted hard for a man that's seen better days.” He erunched the pipestem between his tooth and made another round of the deck, but stopped when he had reached the old place again. “There's some as 'ud say "twas mis fortin did it. And some ns 'ud croak "bout ill-luck, ’'Twusn't neither. 'Twas rum. Rum and me own mulishness. Ef 1 dadn’t driv that boy away, he'd benow makin’ a good livin’ for her, no matter | what I wus about, and she wouldn't be | in there dyin'—dyin’ for a bite to eat.” I knowed that it would a hurt your feel in's wuss than soything else. There, Libbie; take it. It was very nigh a-goin’ as everything else has,” He held out the little gold ring to her and turned his head away, In an instant the woman was on her feet. Her long, thin hand clutched the bauble and ahot flush showed itself on her pallid, sunken cheek. “Father,” she cried, “would you dare?” In her indignation she was speechless for & moment, but then she broke down and the tears came, “It 1s all I have left,” she moaned, “all I have left to remind me of him all of his father's the child may ever see. How could you think of it, father? It was cruel--cruel.” “Twas all wrong, yes 'twas, Libbie,” the man assented. ‘But it bruck me - M— ———— - As he spoke he glanced at the little i pokey hole in the eabin, where a faint fight glimmered, and turned again to the dark line of the water front. “She was never the same after he went away—never the same bouncing gal that { used to 'liven up the old house like a: sunbeam. 'Twas that tuk all the go out o her. And I had to get to work and blame her for sulkin’ when her heart wus breakin.” He took the pipe from his mouth and absently wd it in his pocket. “It might 'a been all right,” he went on. *‘It might 'a been all right ef I hadn't carried on as I did till house and shop and everything went to smash, But I had to keep a-goin’ while the money lasted, and now-—-now,” he | repeated with a solemn inclination of the head, ‘it's gone.” | He swung about to resume his lone- | some walk, but the glimmer in the cabin brought him to a standstill “She's there,” he said, and there was { sorrow and remorse in his voice. *‘She's | there nussin’ his baby and thinkin’ of its father; maybe cryin’ her eyes out about him. And she a-dyin’ by inches’ I The rumble of a wagon came from the land side, and the sound of a horn away off in the streets sent down to the silent { wharves a reminder of the holiday jollity going on ashore, The man started as he { heard it. { v8he won't be without her supper,” | he said. ** Not while this here toy's lyin’ | around.” | He groped a moment in his pocket { and drew out a ring—a plain gold cir | clet, evidently the symbol of a consum- mated union. i “I had to sneak it away unbeknownst | to her,” he muttered, turning the shin { ing trinket around in his fingers. “I'm afraid she'd take ona deal if she knowed it, for she hangs on to any keepsake of { his for bare life. But what's the use { And the ring and hand that held it went { down into the pocket again. “What's | the use o' bein’ senteemental and snick- erin’ over sich things when a square meal can be got for it, and p'raps p'raga a drop t' drive away the chill.” He glanced, balf frightened, half apologetically, at the litle window as he spoke, slipped carefully by on tiptoe as though fearful of being confronted by the occupant of the cabin, reached the side, looked back again and then stepped out upon the pier and slunk away. It was only a moment's space after when there sounded among the low, harsh whispers of the river something shat seemed deep in the darkness, but not of it—something suggestive of heat and light and home, and not of this black tinod and these great marine phan toms standing so solemn in the gloom. It was the cry of a child. Low and weak, suppressed as soon as uttered, it still had a strange shriliness in the si- lent p'ace, and of all the sad voices of tide znd timbers, it seemed by far the saddest, It came from the cabin of an old canal boat, came only for an instant and died away in what fancy involunta. rily pictured a mother's kisses and ca- | esses, O!d Tom heard it half way up to the wharf. He heard it and arrested his cautions footsteps and brought his face about in a twinkling to the tiny lighted space in the cabin that barely reached | his eye where he stood. The cry was | not repeated. Dut he stood there for | over a minute with his whole soul, it| seemed, intent upon that d m glimmer | ing pane. His hand mechanically grop- | ing in his pocket, touched the ring and | it seemed to startle him, He took out | the little trinket and looked at it care- | fully, as though making sure that it was {really there, and brushed it with a] | rough, greasy sleeve, Then, without a lance at the street on which he had | | been walking, he passed back along the | pier, crossed to the boat again and | walked straight up to the cabin and en- | | tered, i { A ship's lantern hanging from the roof | showed a rough table, a couple of boxes, | & tarpaulin, some ends of rope, and on a | | lovsened and slanting berth an infant | {with a woman knecling beside it. It! was a pleasing face she turned up to the | | old man as he came in— pleasing, snd it had been very pretty—~but there was a {sad gauntuess about it now and the | dark, tender eyes looked out from blueish been, father!” she hollows, “Where have you asked. ‘Baby been restless again. I'm afraid that the child is growing worse," is with a look of infinite solicitude at the tiny creature beside her, “And it's so hard to see the dear suffering and be able to do noth ing. Why, father, what is the matter" the might well ask, The poor man was standing, with his head sunk upon his breast, and tears were rolling down his faded of were fixed upon the little cabin window, but it was clear thet his mind was far away, i | upon his hands, | heart to think o' you and that leetle ‘un { sittin’ here supperless, I heerd the bells i tollin’ up in the city and the horns { 8 blowin!, and I knowed that everybody { was havin’ a good time on Chrismiss Eve i night, while you was starvin’. 1 couldn't { stand it. I sneaked away with the ring | to pawn it or sell it, I didn't care what, | till I heard the little crectur's cry, and it | brought me to myself agin. ‘Hischildl’ {I says to meself, His child! Andl right about and comes back here with the ring to you, Libbie—to you, me poor gal” He sat down on a box and ran his hand through his tangled hair and saw the woman dry her eyes and look at him kindly and pi in are then, in a broken voice, he said : *‘Libbie, I've somethin’ t' tell you, but I've been ashamed t' open me mouth about it, There's times now when I look back t' the days when you was » bright gal, and wor Ned-—yes, poor Ned-—I never called fim that before, but now I must-—when poor Ned was makin’ love t' you and | was makin’ a brute o' meself t' him. He wus a good lad, but 1 wus so cussed stuck up with me shop and the loafers about it that used t’' brag sbout me that I wouldn't stand his marryin’ you. When you tuck him, and I hunted him away with me abuse and me drink, I dida't think the day would come when I'd be sorry for it, jut it has, Libbie, it has, He's gone. Maybe gone for good.” » The woman was crying sgain, but she | oo) : wiped away her tears at this and raised her pale face again, “Oh, don't say that, father, don't say | “Ned will come some | It seems so | jut he said | that,” she cried. time. He will find us yet, strange this long waiting. he woyld come to claim me as his wife when he was able to support me, and he'll doit. 1 remember when he went away. He said to me: ‘Libbie, your father foroes me to this, Comé with me or stay with him, which ever you wish, but depend upon it that | shall be back soon to claim you, my little wife, and when 1 do I'll come like a man, will ing and able to take care of you and take odds from no one.” Then he said ‘Whenever vou see that ring think of me and remember that | will be working hard to keep my word." He went away then and [I have tried pever to doubt him. But it is so hard to wait and wait snd hear nothing cannot be untrue. 1, i But no word, no word. It is that is killing me.” Old Tom arose and walked the length | of his cabin, then turned about and came | Then he | back to the seat on the box. leaned over to her and said “I'm agoin’ to tell you somethin’ Lib. | It's somethin’ I oughter told you | bie. leng ago but 1dida't have the courag:, | me gsi, to own up to what a scoundrel I | " wus The woman dfied her tears and there was a look of interest in the pale face that encouraged him to goon. Dut he still hesitated and ssid to her with a trembling voice, “You won't cuss me, Libbde, will yous bad as [| may be you'll forgive me now that I've come around and mean to do better.” Ske remained impassive and only said “Go on, father.” “1 will, I will, if it kills me. Libbie, don't you worry yourself on account o' Ned's stickin by you. He was true to you all along. He wrote to you. He sent money to you you, poor boy, and II tuck letters, money and all. The man groveled down upon his knees beside the box and his head sunk He was that moment the veriest picture of humiliation and re. morse. But she before whom he hum- bled himsel! did not seem to see him, Her eyes were fixed on vacancy aad her lips opened and closed as though she were speaking to some one unseen, Then she rose with a cry of “Edward, my husband, whom would have wronged by doubting, come to me; come, or I will die,” and fell on the floor in a "The old all in a tremble, old man, na e to her, raised her in his arms, Amboli face, laid her do Once or twice he | bit his lips and shook his head, as though | a struggle were going on within him and | He may be dead, He | Disappointed and | perplexed as [ am I will not believe it, | He never forgot | A lio strengthen her, ef you're men.” The figure in the dark stopped, and a voice asked: “What's all this hubbub about?” “‘Please, sir,” said one of the sailors, ‘a man's come aboard to say 8 woman's sick in a boat lyin’ off there, and he wants somethin’ to help her out,” “Send him to the steward,” said the voice, and the form melted in the dark- ness aft, Up and down, up and down it went over the smooth deck-~a manly figure, but with stooping head and a solomn, thoughtful face. Once or twice the lat. ter turned to the big city, and the eyes roamed over the binck rofile of the buildings and the tall briek phantoms far off in the air as though they would pierce to the heart of that throbbing hive there, and ropes stood out clearer, but soon it dark up and down, up and down as be fore. “God bless you, mates, for this night's work. God bless you!” The words stole out into the air from the opea companionway, and O'd Tow Saunders, who had uttered them, came up with a bottle and pan. Once he | stumbled in hs haste, but quickly re. | covering himself, he came on to the deck. The silent figure had paused and turned toward the voice. It moves to. ward it, and then with a wild cry Sptings forward. The light from the ship's lantern falls on Old Tom's face, { baggard and blanched and excited; on | the face of the other, too—young and | hearty, but sad and white with passion, { And in the yellow glow the two men | know each other, g = With a grand sweep of the hand the stranger has dashed from the old man's hand the and it lies smashed upon the timbers, while the young, manly face is thrust into the other's and a voice cries in his cars: “Curse it! Let itlie there. It was that robbed me o' my wife. It was that drove me away | into the world a wanderer in search of her. Curse the stuff! It was the cause of all)” and the heavily shodden foot comes down ou the splintered glass till it crackles beneath it. Old Tom has started back aghast at the young man's vehemence, but in that moment rises to his lips a cry that sweeps enmity and passion away : ‘My God, Ned, it was for her! is dying" The strong hand of the young seaman {is on the other's arm, and the face is { even whiter as he demands “What do you mean! She is dying. Where! Speak, man! Tell me at once i ‘There, in that boat. Yes, that old hulk of acanawler,” ho adds, in response to the other's inquiring glance, “That's "” bottle, fhe | what we've come to now The young man turns and is at the { vesse 's side before Old Tom can call out: “Where are yougoing! You will kill her, Didn't | tell you she is dying dying of vant.” From the other's breast comes a groan, | a deep, prolonged one, and he says in an altered tone ‘““‘Ieadmeto her. God will not rob me of her now. Comealong.” The two pass over the wharf and go down into the cabin of the old boat, from which the dim light is shining, and there awakened from her swoon, but still dwzed and frightened, is the girl of | thoughts, lying like a blighted flower, The father was the first to descend, and he turned at the eotrance to restrain his companion. “A moment, Ned. Wait a moment. The surprise is too sudden.” The yong man drew back into the shadow while the other lifted up the woman and seated her by the berth, I am better, father,” she said, and aid her head wearily beside the sleeping child, But old Tom's actions soon attracted ber, rubbing his hands with infinite compla- cency. She said nothing but looked at him inquiringly. he blurted out. “I've al heerd so, Amn't you, Libbiel things t' chil'ren, and friends come to. gether and news comes o' people that ain't been "round for ever so long. Don't they, eh" She looked at him more intently than ever, and there was an eager, appealing look in her eyes, “Noone knows when luck may change, Do they!” the man continued. “Father, you have heard something. Tell me, is it about him "Bout Ned?! Well, yey, have. Now, don't take on, Libbie. You'll be quiet and easy, like a good gal,” +It is about him! You have seen him, You have met hum. Hoe hat come for me o' somethin’ and a bite to and pluck from it some secret hidden | A glimpse of the moon showed | overhead for a moment, and the spars | was veiled, nnd the figure went on inthe | {the young man's love, the wife of his { and ride. Sandy Claws brings | Some Boys and Girls, There are some boys and girls Who have a bad way Of putting off work That they should do today, “Let it go till tomorrow,” They carelessly say: Or, *' "Twill do by-and-by, When we're through with our play,” But oh, boys, snd oh, girls, And oh, girls, and oh, boys, As sire as young folks Make on great deal of noise, “Let it go tll tomorrow,” And you'll Jearn to your BOTTOW, "T's ten chances to one { it ever gots done; And “by-and-by" leads, In spite of endeavor, To turn from the track, Almost slways, to never, Do at once, when you coin, What your hands find to do, Is the bit of advices An old girl gives to you; Then, with hearts light and froa, You can pleasure pursue, And the sun will seem brighter, The heavens more blue, For oh, girls, and oh, boys, And oh, boys, and oh, girls, As sure as from oysters Come besutiful pearls, “Let it go till tomorrow,” And you'll learn, to your sorrow, "Tis ten chances 10 one, If it ever gets done: And “'by-and-by" leads, In spite of endeavor, To turn from the track, Almost always, to never, Mancaner Eynivon | How the Swallows Homeward Fly | Joseph Weaver, an old citizen o | Christian county, Mo,, tells the St | Lot Gilobe- Daomocrat the story ofl a awaliow roost: an als “There was large, hollow poplar tree sear my father's house, which for many year | served as a roosting- place for thousand of swallows, Iden't think the truth I say thet fully birds I exagger ale 5000 when would fiy | troe on the spproach of night during | the swallow season, The birls woul gather from all directions just before sundown, and fly in a confused mas | around the tree fora few minutes be foro begiuning to cnter the hollow. When sll birds that sought shelter i: the tree had assembled ths confused { mass of swallows soon formed into + large and besutiful circle ms per feet in its graceful propor. tions as ever was drawn by an artist As this circle of swallows flew around the treo a constant stream of birds from | the inner side of the belt was entering the hollow at a large hole sbout forty feet from the ground. round the circle flew, lessening in width as the belt wound off till the last bird had found s lodging in the cavity withia the old popler. “I have watched the Lirds many times as they were circling round the treo and noted the time occupied by | . ’ this interesting performance, circle to fly into the hellow, and I think { BOOO birds is a moderate estimate of | the number of swaliaws thst ni htly | found a roosting place in that tree” A Dog and His Friend, | Micheel Morrison, a | Penn, hostler, owas a horse and a dog | that are inseparable stable companions, The horse's name is Charley, aad the dog's Jack. The dog sleeps in the sta. ble with the horse and Charley seems to | be lonely if Jack happens to be away | | when night comes. | trained the horse to do many tricks, and the dog has been taught to waltz, | to lie down and make believs go to | | sleep aad to stand upon the horse's back | The most amusiag thing the He was smiling, actually smiling, and | two well-trained pets do is to take a! | trip around the block together. A little | platform is fastened to the horse's back “It's'a good night is Christmas Eve,” | with a surcingle, the dog is lifted to it, | the bridle reins are placed ia his mouth and then Mr. Morrison says: *‘Charley, I want you to take Jack arousd the block, and I want you to go slow and not throw him ofl.’ Thou the horse starts down tho street on a walk, the dog braces himsell and keeps a good grip on the reins, and arcuad the block they go, the horse never failing to turn all of the coraers, When they get back the dog is tickled to be taken off, but, if ho is put back right away and the horse commanded to go the journey again, be does not offer to disobey. Oue day an Italisn with a wheezy organ struck up a tuae just as the horse was of the street, dumped Jack in the gut- tor, and trotted to the stable slong, the IEENe cea 5 2 following into that hollow | rh ar Round and | It took | on an average thirty minutes for the! Carbondale, | Nr. Morrison has A ——————— | We Are Japan's Best Costomers, Governor Hubbard, the United i Minister at Tokio, tells me that we bug more from Japan than any other fore pation. **Last year,” said he, “our ports from this country amounted to 21,. 000,000 American dollars, We bou $11,000,000 worth of her raw silk and nearly £7,000,000 worth of her teas. The fair cheeks of our ladies were cooled last | year with $07,000 worth of Japanese | fans, and our noses were wiped with | $816,000 worth of Japanese silk handker. | chiefs, We buy nearly $200,000 worth | of porcelain every year, and our imports {| of bamboo ware amount to $102, of { Japanese money, ‘We buy more than | twice ms much of Japan as any other { country, and our imports sre increasing every year. In 1887 we bought a million | and a half more goods than in 1886, and | the United States will probably continue I be Japan's best customer,” — New York world, ——_ ———— Cure of Poeamonin, Hews Roan, Niacana Co, X.Y. 1 March 24, 1686, About a year ago | was taken with 8 sever pain in both Jungs. | was first attacked witha { Violent chill, then a dreadful pain apd thens | cough secompanied by considerable fever. It locked very much like a bad attack of pnenmo. | nia. A friend of mine procured five ALLOOCK'S | Prastens. One he put under each arm, ong ¢ under each shoulder blade, and one on my chest close around my throat, In a few bours Lhe cough censed, the pain gradually sbated | and | broke out in a profuse perspiestion, 1 | fell into & profound sleep, and the next day | was almost well. Iwore the Plasters gight days | afterwards, and have never had any troatle | since, Winnian A. Sawvyen | NeEvaADA contains 108.740 square miles: was | settled in is at Washoe, and was admitted into the Union October 31, 1864. Teo-Night and To-Morraw Night, And each day snd night during the week you ean get at all droggists® Kemp's Balsam for the Throat and Lungs, acknowledged to be the most successful remedy ever sold for the cure of Cou Croup, Bronchitis, Whooping Cough, Asthma, and Consumption. Get a bot. house, #o Price Wg Ue today and keep it always in the | You can check y« and $1. ur oold st once, Sample bottles free logs in the Uni nd thelr cost of ¥ A BewspADer tating inter. , and are human ang wo. o that ter rofula of the % are satisfied Now, there No earthly ¢ a lang that is one Godden Meodiond and surely arrest if taken in time, until you have tried # production of dried fruit has n 500,000 poun is in 1883 to 36. punds in 184 RNIA ir Genter] Quarks, “Yeu, it pays.” said a big, fat physician, with a name which is known throughout the medi. cal world, “] have a practice worth $40.00 a year” “Women? “Yes, you've goessed nt first time. They pay $10 every time they come into my office. When one gets on: my Het 1 tell you she stays™ and Dr H iaughed jong and joud. This is quackery -giltedged, gen. tee] gquackery-—1o keep suffering women pay ing tribute year in and year out, and doing them no good. Dr. Pieree’s Favorite Presorip- tion cures the peculiar wosknesses and dis. of women. Itdoes not lie to then nor rob them, —— ALABAMA was settled 15 171] 5 Mobile: ad. mitted into the Union December 14, 1518, and contains . wad pa A peri edy mage’ Catarrh Rem. PME rn IT was a maxim of Marshal Saxe that “every soil or Killed costs the enemy bis weight in iead A Remarkable | aper. Tue Your's Conpaxiox is a weloome visitor mn omore than 406000 families, and Las won a place in home fe obtained by no other publication. Itis always safe, pure, instroe. tive and entertaining. Be v onder Is how any family can do without it. Any new subscriber sendin © $1.55 now, can have The CoNrasion { free very week to January 1, 198 and for s full year from tha date. Sam le copies free. Ad. dress Tay Veor=w's Comparion, Foston, Mies i Camnrrk Cured. | A dergyman, after years of suffering from that joathsome disease, Catarrh, and vainly | trying every known remedy, af last found a i JheecHitioh which completely cured and saved im from death. Any sufferer freon thisdread. ful disease sending a self-addressed stamped {| envelope to Prof. J. A. Lawrence, 88. War. en 8, NY. will receive the recipe free of change. A Rad eal Cure for Epileptic Fire To the Editor—lease inform P bi readers that I havea positive remedy for the above named disease which 1 warrant tocure the | worst cases. So strong fs my faith in its vir. | toes that 1 will send fier a sample bottle and | wvaiuable treatise to any sufferer who will give me bis PPO. and Express address. Resp'y, H.G. ROOT, M. C. 15 Pearl St. New York, {Hf aflicted with sore eyes use Dr. Isase son's Eye-water. Drugyists sell at Ze. per | Weekly CUAceBS Of] IT CONQUERS PAIN. Rheomation, Of Nottles Sold Backache, Noadache, And In Every One Toothache, Sprains, A CURE — The Chas. Nogtioron. AMBraggists and Dusters. Baltimore, Diamond Vera=-Cura FOR DYSPEPSIA, % 3 000,000 Japanese dollars, or about 16,. 4
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