AT CHRISTMAS TIDE, 80 blithe this hour, when ones again The Star glows steadfast in the sky * 80 hope attuned, when human pain Grows less, for faith that help is nigh So hallowed, when the angel train With song and harp are passing by. Once more, between the midnight's gloon And the pale rose of breaking dawn, Heaven's matchless lillies wake and bloom, And far athwart the east are drawn The pencilled sunbeams which {lume All pathways men must journey on. Again the Sages and the Beers Bend low before a little ohild And o'er the long aud stormful years, The desert spaces vast and wild, The strife, the turmoil, and the tears, He looks, and smiles, the undefiled, "Tis Christmas tide! At Mary's knee The shepherds and the princes meet! Love-bound in dear humility, To clasp the Infant Saviour's feet, The Star is bright o're land and sea ; The Gloria song is full and sweet, - Margaret E. Sangster, in Harper's Bazar, HEYSER'S CHRISTMAS, BY FLORENCE B. HALLOWELL, I' was 7 o'clock on Christmas Eve, and the streets of town of Li— were | crowded with eager, shoppers, variety store was like a great bee- hive, and the clerks were kept | busy wrapping up | dolls, trumpets, drums, toy pistols and other toys dear to the heart of childhood; while the buyers jostled and crowd- ed each other good - naturedly, too thoroughly imbued with the peace and good will of the season to mind a | dig in the ribs or a bruised toe. ‘““How happy everybody is!" ex-| claimed a bright-faced, middle-aged | woman, pausing a moment on her way past the store to look in. Then she drew her old plaid shawl closer around | her and hurried on, the sawdnst-filled | limbs of a big doll dangling from a | cumbersome parcel on her laft arm. If she bad paused a moment longer | she might have caught the derisive, | contemptuous sneer on the face of a young man who lounged in the open | doorway, his hands thrust into his pockets and his soft hat pulled down | over his scowling brow. His eyes fol- | lowed the woman in the plsid shawl | until she disappeared in the crowd, | and a short, hard laugh escaped his | lips, “Everybody happy!” he muttered, | ““What fool remarks some women do | make!” then dropped a bundle; but he didn't stoop to pick it up for her. He wasn't in the humor to do a kindness for any one. All this Christraas excitement and hurry had filled his heart with anger and bitterness. In his pocket were his week's wages—twelve bright | silver dollars; but he didn’t expect to | spend a cent. There was no one to whom be felt inclined to carry even a dime's worth of candy, no one who expected anything from him. He remembered Christmas Eve of last year. He and Nan had gone shop- ping together. They had bought a woolen cape for old Mrs, Bosley, with | whom Nan had lived previous to her marriage, and a trumpet for a little orphan boy Mrs. Bosley was ‘‘rais- ing,” and stockings and flannel for the Widow Wisk and her imbecile daugh- ter. They had also laid in a stock of good things for their Christmas din- ner, to which old Mrs, Bosley and | Sammy had been invited, and had de- liberated a long time whether to have plam pudding cr fruit for dessert. Nan hadn't been sure the plum pud- ding would prove a success, for she had so little experience in cooking, and so, they had boaght fruit. What fun it had been to buy their presents lor each other! Nan had | made him promise not to look while | she made a hasty tour to the counter on which were men's furnishings, and where she had bought a erimson muflier aad two bordered handker- chiefs. Then they had stopped at a jewelry store, and Nan had waited outside while he went in and made a mys terious purchase, which she found under her plate at breakfast the next morning, sad which proved to be a plain gold ring. Heyser remembered how she had kissed him and told him it was just what she had wanted, for she had al- ways regretted not having been married with a ring. The wind caught one end of the red muffler around his neck and whipped it against his cheek, and Heyser Li away from the store door with an angry growl, the scowl on his face growing darker. [le turned from the busy main street into one that was comparatively quiet, and in a few minutes was at the door of the great, barn-like tenement house in which he had lived ever since he and Nan had quarreled and parted. That was nearly nine months ago, und he had never soon Nan since-—had never heard a word from her nor sent her a message of any kind. They had ted in hot anger; he had told r she was a wretched cook, and he'd warrant she could spoil anything she turned her hand to; and when she had replied that she wished she had never married him, he had rejoined that she didn't wish it half as much as he did, snd that be could have had Sarsh Humes for the making. Nan bad al ways been a little ous of Sarah, excited] Sill’s | { hanging up their stockings. | There was no one to give a thought to { him to see if any one were looking | that led directly to the river. | He to white heat. Recriminations and | reproaches followed, and the quarrel | had ended in his leaving the little ! house which he had bought on their marriage, vowing never to enter it | again until Nan apologized. The nest day be had sent a mes- | | senger for his clothes, half hoping the | apology would come instead. But it; hadn't. He had felt angry at himself | for searching all "the pockets for a note, only to be disappointed ; and he had sworn to make Nan sick of her “blasted pride.” He had left his place in Hinckle's store in Bridge City, where he had been employed since boyhood, and had gone to IL, to take a place in the iron works. And not a word had ever come from Nan, A bitter loneliness filled his heart | as he entered his cheerless room with ite carpetless floor and curtainless window, The fire in the rusty little stove had gone ont, and the cheap kerosene lamp on the wooden mantel gave only a sickly light. | Heyser shivered and flung out of | the room, muttering something be- | | tween his teeth. It was too early to | | go to bed, and he had lived so entire- ily to himself during the past year | that he had no friends in the tenement i | house upon whom he could drop in | | for an hour's talk. What was he to { do with himself? Walk up and down | the busy factory | Main street, he supposed, snd see peo- ple stare at him because he had no, | bundles. As he went downstairs he heard the Payne children laughing, and through | a door that stood a little ajar saw them Heyser's heart swelled with self- | pity, and he tugged at the muffler | about his throat as if it were choking | | him as he went stamping down the | bare, dark stairway. In all this | stood back from the street at some dis- tance from any other. It was the home of old Mrs, Wisk and her weak- minded daughter, and Heyser sprang forward as if electrified, wondering if | any one were inside, As he approached the "gate he saw the imbecile girl ran out from the front door, and at the seme moment the flames burst from half a dozen places in the roof. “Is any one in there?” shouted Hey- ser, seizing the girl by the shoulder. She only whimpered and smiled in reply, and Heyser released her, and with one bound was at the door and had dashed it open. Before the wide, open hearth was a wickerwork carriage, and in it, staring up with bright black eyes, lay a baby perhaps twe months of age. Heyser | seized it in a rough but careful grasp and rushed ont—just in time, for the old roof fell with a crash behind him, sending the sparks flying over him and his precious charge. The yard was full of people now who bad come running from every direction, and ss Heyser staggered forward with his burden he heard a loud, piercing cry, and a young wo- man in a big shawl and a white hood sprang through the gateway and tore the baby from his arms. She was weak and almost breathless from fright and her run up the hill. Heoyser looked down at her, passing his hands over his eyes away a mist, ““Nan!" he eried. “Jerry!” and around his neck went | one round arm, while the other held { the baby close to her heart. “Let's get away from here, Nan," said Heyser, thickly; and he led her through the gateway and down the hill, paying no attention to old Mrs. “CHRISTMAS COMES BuT ONCE A YEAR. Wisk who ran after them, eryinz and as if to clear | j to Nan and the baby—which as yet he | ! hardly realized as his own-—he hud taken time to go to his lodging house for Nan's note, and he read the words it contained with eyes suspiciously dim. How gayly his heart beat nas he he felt! time! He didn't wonder people en- joyed it! And this time when he reached the cottage it was all aglow with light and warmth, and Nan met him at the door and exclaimed over the number of his bundles, and laughed because he had bought the baby a drum and a toy engine, “But we can save them for him,” she added ; “and just come out into the kitchen, Jerry." Jerry followed her, wondering what he was to see, end gave = little gasp of surprise when he found a nice supper spread upon the table and a delicious aromas from a coffee pot filling the room. “I've learned to cook, Jerry. Mra, Bosley says I can’t be beaten at it,” sail Nan, laughing, though her eyes were full of tears, Jerry's lips quivered, and he swal- lowed a lump in his throat. Then he put his arms around his little wife and drow her close to his happy heart, ““This is a Christmas, sure enough, { Nan,” he whispered, huskily. —Inde- pendent, Christmas in Egypt, The following Christmas experience in Egypt is related by a writer in Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly. He was at the house of a Greek who was apparently not a Crossue, as the entire | furniture of his cafe consisted of a | stone-and-mud fireplace in one corner, “2 Christmas festivity he bad no share, him, no one of whom he must think. And it was all Nan's fault. She had ruined his life. How could he help hating her? Why had she never sent that apology? Evidently she had never repented her share of their quarrel, Reaching Main street again Heyser hesitated, gave a quick glance around who might suspect his purpose, and then turned abruptly down a street, Hel walked rapidly, with his head down, | the collar of his cont high above his | oars, and his slonch hat pulled down | over his scowling brow, | It wouldn't do any harm to go and | give & look at his old homo-=that | pretty brown cottage in which he and | Nan had lived for four short months. | had nothing else to do--and he needed the exercise. The wind blew stiflly as he crossed the bridge. On the other side a wo-, man was crossing in the opposite di- rection. She had a shawl about her shoulders and wore a white hood. Hey- ser remembered that Nan had worn » white hood on Christmas Eve just a year ago, The keen air had made her cheeks rosy, and given a sparkle to her black eyes. People had turned to look at her on the street, and he had felt proud of his pretty wife. He had not dreamed then that in less than three months from that time he and Nan would have gone separate ways, It was only a short walk from the bridge to the heart of Bridge City, and the little brown cottage Heyser had bought stood on one of the steep, ungraded streets, He felt a chill sense of disappointment when he reached it and saw that it was dark and all the blinds were closed, He stood at the little gate and stared st the cottage for a long, long time, Nan had deserted it, of course, and it had stood empty all these months, He ought to bave known she wouldn't stay there alone, and yet-—somehow he had always thought of her as keep- ing a home there, waiting for him to come back. He was stiff and chilled when at last he turned from the gate and went slowly up the hill, with a vague idea of walking through the village before returning to Li~. Not that he ex: to meet Nan-