VOL XXX
is Coming-*-
-*•++++s#l++++#^
■■■■■■■■■■
OUR I your presents I
Christmas Sale ° ow whi,e s,ock is com
plete, and, if you desire,
Commences
. we will deliver the day
LJz\ I f before Christmas.
DEO. 1 1893.
We are showing a large assortment of Beautiful and Useful Pres
ents. No trouble to find something to suit you if you COME AT
ONCE.
NOTHING NICER THAN ONE OF OUR
Banquet LarapSi Brass Lamps,
Piano Lamps, Onyx Stands,
Oak Stands, Mahogany Stands,
Gold Chairs, Pictures,
Easels, Screens,
Music Cabinets, Book Cases,
Writing Desks, Blacking Cases,
Couches, Rngs,
Rocking Chairs in Endless \ ariety.
o •/
-Hn Fine Decorated Pottery l #-
WE HAVE
Doulton, Royal Worcester, Tepletz and
Many Other Fine Makes.
+++lN TABLE WARE***
WE HAVE
China Dinner Sets,
Porcelain Dinner Sets,
Plain White China Dinner Sets,
Fancy Dishes of all Kinds.
-TOILETT SETTS
CIH,,U TEN!)
Butler, - Penn a.
Bickel's
SPECIAL I ANHOUNCMEMT.
I have placed on our bargain counter a line of boots and shoes which
will be closed out at a sacrifice for the next thirty days.
Among this line will be found greater bargains
than have ever been offered.
Call and examine these goods whether you wish to buy or not.
Ladies Ene Dongola shoes regular price $3.50 now $2.
" «' " 2 75 at 1 25
" Calf shoes $1 to 1.50.
" oil grain shoes $1 to 1 50.
Misses fin* spring heel shoe- 90 cts to $1.25.
" beel shoes at 50 ceots.
" school shoes 75 cts to sl.
Mens Hand made box toe boo's $3.
•' •' plain toe boots $2 50.
Mens fine c»lf boots at $2.
" " shoes at $1 50
Bojs fine calf shoes at $1,25 And many other bargains.
Our line of HOLIDAY GOODS is more complete than ever before,
consisting of many new and pretty styles in SLIPPERS. Now
what is more appropriate for a fine present than a beautiful
pair of SLIPPERS, and by visiting our store you will
have the best assortment to select from and at
prices lower than any other store in the coun
ty. Be sure to call and examine our
goods before selecting a XMAS PRESENT.
o RUBBER GOODS. o
Boston, Woonsocket, Goodyear, Glove, Bay State and Snag Proof
Boots at Bickel's.
Mens first quality rubber boots $2 25.
Boys '• '• 1.50.
Mens knee boots $2 50.
Mens Storm King boots $2 75.
Fireman robber boots (•'Xtra bigh) $3
Tooths rubber boots $1 25.
Cbilds " 1.00
Womens rubber boots 1 00
Ladies fine specialty rubbers 40 ceats
" croquets 25 cents.
Mis 4 «s rubbers 25 cents
Me •is specialty rubbers 50 to 65 cents
Meos backl" Arctic* sl.lO.
Meas Alaskas 75 cents.
W •men-' buckle Arctics 15 cents
M ns beat felt hoots $2.
W bare 100 pair mens hiftb hoots (rubher boot*) all No. 10 and 11, regu
lar price $3 50 tvbicb will be so'd at $2 per p*ir during this sale.
When in need of footwear give me a call.
JOHN BICKfCL.
138 SOUTH MAIN STREET. BUTLER, PENN'A.
Job Work ol all kind done
at the "Citizen Office.'"
THE BUTLER CITIZEN.
«THE KIND ■
f THAT CURES I
* *
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- v'~ , -'fm"
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5 .*st ■■' . -■ jjjp
* ffe'
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jjg MRS. FBKIH IUMS,
IA Victory Over Disease:_
S| "Terrible Pain In H=ad
■ Btomac'i':"
—, -My Face w?3 oac ■
S Eyr.ptiono!"
"'Wanted the Floor •
I Af « r nj«r
T|TO let .. • frw Kr ;•
■ orer-°ei^.
If Gi.s t -Mr- —i . , v
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s-'nw ,«• •; * *, •
g?.:. Hi-rJ : ► V. 4.0 «:v.-
i*ri'i!i!»' : • ■ :
PVt-'";
£s= with *t •!;•.. I' "»'i
|gi % .u'.d I ,!■ ■.(
1 DANA
'm SARSAPA i" i L ?,. \
I !-•! Irl- ! *•> nenv
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=~hadtake;i <>:?(> If arc "
«t»<>Ctrr. 1 have now tafc.~. two.
w
SSLKRP A! !. MUH'I*. 4
BK'ihl*' i»i»i:. ».?-nn«l# *.. • •
ira'clinc I hfl'i < ?*' irr! » c*-*- 1
- • "■ «
3|.-un- me entirely. Yean rc#;>- .fu *
=E~ X Y AIRS iIIIXDA 1.
TowfcoM it may concern.—l . '
the tn<li of the above. "• " • • ? A»11»» .
Ticocdcroga, N. Y. ITum. i <-
■ Dam SarszparMla Ce. F-Mtes?
C. & D.
ALWAYS
Take into consideration that money
saved is as good as money ea:ne>.
The h**F«t WB) to nave money is TO
buv (food goods at the right price.
The only reason that our trade is
increasing constantly is the fact 'h»t
we handle only goods of first quality
>md sell them at very low prices
e have taken unu-ual care t"
iiruvide every thmtr new in Huss »DO
Furnishing Goods for this season.
»nd as we have control of maui
♦•specially good article* in both liuei
we can do you good if you come to
us
We confidently snv that HI justice
to 'hnms Ues all purchasers sb»olo
inspe< t our goons.
Visit us,
COLBERT & DALE,
'J<2'J ?■ .VI ain utre^l,
P.!:tlcr H:i.
We are pleased
to inform those v\ ho
appreciate clothes
that are comfortable
and lit correctly,
that our selection of
Fall patterns are
here. They are
handsome and mod
erate priced. See
them.
Aland,
Tailor.
+GLOVES+
are our specialty this week,
Gloves for 45c
75c Gloves for 65c.
S.IOO Gloves for 90c.
And our Entire Glove Stock at Equally
Low Prices,
THE RACKET STORE,
120 South Main Street, Butler, Pp.
2 5 PER CENT.
Discount on trimmed and untrim
med Hats and Bonnets, Birds, Wings
and Fancy Feathers, ought to be a
great inducement to bargain se> kers
besides being £ less than our usual
low prices JVe have a l«rgc stock
for you to fp|i-ct from
A*k to see our ladies all wool vests
a' fißc.
M. F & M. MAJiKS,
113 to 1171$. St., - - liutldf.
LL I Sl"' HE Master signaled
« I*l the Sisters
il ml Three '
II \ 7/' i d" 1 Holding the love
fflr ffi 11l * gate fast,
011 i A*f -r And they slipped
' ' ' I' the bar and they
turned the key
And the River Of Love rolled past-
Rolled on to freshen the withered wood.
Rolled on to nourish the kind and good.
Which the angels sang to see.
But It came at last where a palace stood
That sheltered the hosts of sin
O the sands leaped up to the river's swell,
The great rocks crumbled—the sin walls fell,
And devils went walling about in hell,
Because that the gocd should win.
Ran? the bells of Christmas morning,
Sang the choirs the song of peaoe,
Sang the song of sweet release;
Crystal flakes the sky adorning
Noiseless flitted here and there.
Starring all the quiet air,
Kissing cheeks and flying curls
Of the trooping bovs and girls;
Limping on supporting staff,
Age joined in the joyous laugh.
"Christmas morning," sang the river,
"Christ is born," the beUs replied,
"Thanks to God, the blessing giver;
For our sins the Saviour died."
And the Sisters Three, by the gate above,
Cast flowers to drift on the River of Love.
CHARLES
In a northeastern region of Georgia
there is a community where, it is said,
a man's honor is worth more than his
gold. Of course this is not true unless
—as possibly might have been the case
—a man must have had a small amount
of gold and an enormous degree of
honor. But it is a fact that in this
community a man placed a very high
estimate upon his own word. And it
may naturally be inferred that tho
code flourished as a fever that followed
'he chilly observance of trivial though
rigid rules of social conduct. The
code did flourish, and it flourished so
luxuriantlj- that every man in the com
munity became so expert a shot that a
duel meant almost certain death for
both parties.
In this community there lived two
young men who had grown up in
rivalry, not in the nature of a love
affair, but had early learned to de
spise each other's good points. Bil
lings acknowledged one day that ho
really did not know why he hated
Podsley. "But do you really hate him?"
Bome one asked.
"Hate him! W T hy .hydrophobia
never hated pure blood as I hate that
fellow." He hesitated a moment and
then added: "Rather an odd com
parison, gentlemen, I admit, but when
I think of that man I have a mania—a
feeling that I have been bitten by a
mad dog. And yet, I stand here ready
to commend him, acknowledging him
to be a man of good manners, of good
family and good graces. But I hate him
and he hates me."
"It's strange that you've never come
together," a man remarked.
"Yes, it is rather strange, and yet
not so strange either, when you con
sider the fact that neither of us has
ever given the other cause to take
active offense. I hated him at school
and I have hated him everywhere; and
what is strange to me is that instead
of my Irate wearing out as the years of
judgment coine on, it seems to become
deeper, as the roots of a poisonous vino
that push their way further and fur
ther into the earth. I suppose we'll
come together some day."
Billings had been waiting for the
blacksmith to shoe his horse, and as
the work was now done he mounted
and rode away. He had not been gone
long when Podsley rode up. He did
not dismount, but turning sidewise in
his saddle he began in his easy and
half-drawling way to harangue the
party of men sitting' about the door.
"I have just seen the new circuit
rider," said he, "and he told me that
he expected to do a great work in this
neighborhood. I informed him that
there was plenty of material lying
around, and that as soon as I got
through with my own particular har
vest I would help him with his. Oh, I
think that I can swing a cradle In the
tangled wheat and tares of sin. But I
don't think that the preacher took my
offer in good part. He asked me if I
were a professor, and I had to tell him
that there still remained several de
grees of sanctity that I had not taken.
Thereupon, fellow-citizens, he rebuked
me."
"And he served you right," said the
blacksmith, who stood in the door,
'.wipjqg his bauds oa fcis sheep-skin
BHTLEU, PA., FRIDAY. DECEMBER 22. 1893.
apron.
"I suppose you're rig-ht, Tobe," Pods
ley replied, "but it does rather chafo
ine to see a young fellow just from
school, just from an ambitious exam
ination into which his earthly prido
urged him by promising him a prize—l
say it chafes me to hear that j-oitng
fellow talk to older men about the sin
of the world and of the great work
which ho himself is expected to per
form. And yet, if it hadn't been for a
certain man in this community I sup
pose that 1 should have been a preach
er. It was my mother's prayer and my
own intention, but as the time drew
near I found that my heart was too
full of hate to preach the gospel of
love."
"But couldn't you let the love for the
many overcome the hate of the one?"
the blacksmith asked.
"No, I threw personal inclination
and a mother's yearning on the side of
love of the many, but there stood the
hate, defying everything."
"We all know who the object of hate
is," said the blacksmith.
"Oh, I suppose you do, for there has
never been any concealment of it. All
his friends and all my friends know it.
A 1 yet, to tell you the truth, I don't
know why I hate him. It has been a
mystery tome nearly all my life. But I
remember that about the first lucid
thought I ever had was the idea that
he had been born merely to annoy me.
His annoyance, though, was always of
a passive kind. I have never been able
to call him to account for anything
that he has said or done. And this
makes me hate him still more. WeU,
boys, take care of yourselves."
lie rode away, turned to the right
and galloped down the county road.
He had not gone far when he saw, a
short distance ahead, a man sitting on
a horse, talking to a girl who had
brought a gourd of water from a house
near by. Podsley knew the man and
he rode past him without turning his
head, but the girl must have seen that
he cast a hard look, for she drew back
from the fence and said something in
an undertone. Podsley rode on. Bil
lings' horse soon came cantering after
him. The road abruptly dipped down
and crossed a small stream. Podsley
halted to let the horse drink. Billings
rode into the strep • and halted.
"Bright weather we'ro having," sai<£
Billings.
"Yes, rather. But I don't think that
a little rain would do any harm."
"No, except to some weakling who
might chance to get wet."
"That's a fact," Podsley rejoined;
"and, by the way, there are weaklings
in this neighborhood."
"Yes, I know of one."
"And I know of one."
"Then there must be two."
"I know of but one."
They rode out of the streum, rode
side by side. "Billings," said Podsley,
•'I hate every hair onyour head."
"Podsley," retorted Billings, "I
loathe every bone in your body."
"Ah, hah, but bones are stronger
than hair."
"Yes, but Samson's strength was in
his hair."
"That so? How different from you.
Your strength seems to be in your
tongue."
They halted, faced about and looked
at each other. "Billings," said Pods
ley, "it does seem to me that we have
lived in hatred of each other long
enough to come to'some sort of sensi
ble agreement. I know what you feel
by contemplating what I feel myself.
So long as we both live there is no real
happiness for either of us. Why this
is neither of us can tell, but it is a fact.
And now can't we come to some sort
of settlement?"
Billings was slowly stroking his
horse's mane. "I should think so," he
answered. "I am more than willing to
risk my life to kill you, but I don't de
sire that you should kill me. We
might fight a duel with guns or pis
tols —real gentlemen don't fight with
knives—but that would mean sure
death for us both. And I insist that
there is no need of but one of us
dying."
"That's true," Podsley agreed. "And,
to show you the interest 1 take in the
matter, I would much rather that you
would be the one to die."
"That is natural, and is therefore
commendable," said Billings. "At any
rate this thing can't go .on much
longer, and we must, in consequence,
fix up some sort of scheme. Now let
me make a suggestion! We will draw
lots to see which one shall shoot the
other. No, that would have too much
the appearance of murder. Let me
see. We'll draw lots to determine
which one shall take poison. And the
man who draws the poison lot shall
write a statement to the effect that he
has committed suicide. The poison
shall be hahded him by the winner.
What do you say?"
"It's unique, and is therefore agreea
ble to me. Meet me here to-morrow at
twelve o'clock. Let each man bring a
written confession and a dose of
poison."
"I'll be here," said Billings.
CHAPTEK 11.
At twelve o'clock the next day they
met in the road. They came afoot.
"Before we enter into this little com
petition," said Podsley, "we stake our
honor as gentlemen to carry out every
detail of this contract, and to do so
without carping or grumbling. If I
win, you take the poison as soon as I
give it to you; if you wya I shall io
*he_sßuie."
"1 agree. My honor, which is worth
more than my life, is at stake."
"Here, flip this coin."
Podsley won. They are now stand
ing 1 in the woods. Billings took out
his confession. "I will be found hold
ing this in my hand," said he. "I have
left a copy of it at home so that there
will be no question about its genuine
ness."
He broke a vial against a tree and
said: "Give me that." Podsley was
holding a vial in his hand. "I say,
give me that and let's have this thing
over. Why don't you give it to me?"
"I will in my own good time. Wind
you, your life belongs to me. When I
call for it, you must, without a word
in objection, yield it up. I will see
you again. Good day."
Months passed and still Podsley
made no demand. Once at a picnic
Billings stood laughing with a party
of friends. Podsley approached and
taking out a vial slyly showed it to
Billings. Billings with equal slyness
took out a folded paper and showed it
to Podsley.
Months passed. It was noticed that
Podsley was gayer than he had ever
been; and a friend who happened to
look into his room one night saw him
holding a small bottle in his clasped
hands, bending over it and laughing.
One day Podsley met Billings in the
road. They halted and Podsley took
out the vial. Billings took out the
confession.
"You are mine."
"Yes; do you want me now?"
"I can't surrender my great victory
so suddenly. I must play with you
awhile longer. I didn't know that I
was so full of fun." He laughed.
"And I didn't know that you were so
full of the devil."
Podsley laughed again. "I am going
away," he said, "and when I come back
I want you. Good-by for a time."
Two years passed. It was rumored
that Podsley had been killed in the
Black Hills. There was no cause to
doubt the rumor. An old man from
the far west said that he had seen him
die. This was three months after he
had left home. Billings was free. He
married the girl who had once brought
him a gourd of water.
It was Christmas morning. Billings
was sitting by his fire. His wife was
hanging evergreens about the room.
Some one shouted at the gate. Bil-
l s ngs went out.
"Why, what's the matter, dear?" his
wife asked. She had seen him stagger
when he stepped out. A man on horse
back was at the gate. Podsley had re
turned.
"I thought you were dead," said Bil
dings, "or this would not have hap
pened." He waved his hand toward
the house. His wife was standing in
the door. She could not hear him.
"But you see that I'm not dead,"
Podsley answered. "Two weeks ago I
started back here to claim my own."
He took out the vial.
"You have but to claim it."
Podsley smiled. "I say that I started
back to claim my own."
"I understood what you said."
"And do you know what I would
claim?"
"My life."
"No, your prayers. My mother is
dead and her prayer has been answered.
There is no hate in my heart. I will
now attempt to teach men to live better
lives; and I begin by making you a
Christmas present. Your life is your
own—and God's." He smashed the vial
ou a stone, bowed to the woman who
stood in the door and galloped away.
STRICTLY PERSONAL.
"Milly, don't yer think if she hung
up her stockin's Santy Claus mightgiv'
her a pair o" legs to put in 'em."—Jury.
No Doubt He Would.
Hippie—How would you like me for
a Christmas present. Miss Cash?
Miss Cash—l'm afraid Mr. Trivvet
wouldn't like it.
Hippie—Mr. Trivvet?
Miss Cash —Yes; you see I've prom
ised to be his Christmas gift myself.—
Judjrc.
An Ignorant Captain.
Old Lady—What is the matter now?
Steamboat Captain—We've run on a
sand-bar.
Old Lady—Well, why don't you go
over it? What's your walking beam
for, I'd like to know?—N. Y. Weekly.
ID Deep Trouble.
Stranger—What's the matter, my
little man?
Small Boy—l—l took mamma out for
a walk, and I've lost her somehow, and
I'm 'fraid she can't lind herself any*
where. Uyo, hotAhool—Uvud News.
ST. NICK IN TROUBLE.
Th« Qoecr Eiprrtenc* of Santa Ct*ut at
Bandar ScbnaL
There was to be a "Sandy Claw*" at
the Boonvllle Baptist church for the
Sunday school scholars, and elaborate
preparations had been made for the
event. There had been Christmas trees
at the church since time out of mind,
but there had never been a Santa
Claus, and old and young alike were
all agog over the expected treat The
announcement had gone forth that St.
Nick was to visit the church by way
of the chimney on Christmas Eve and
hang presents on the tree for the chil
dren, and as a consequence expectation
ran high among the small folk ol
Boonville.
A certain young man who was some
what popular on account of previous
performances was selected to imper
sonate Santa Claus. For the purpose
he had provided himself with white
whiskers and wig 1 and coat and cap
trimmed with fur. With these and
his face reddened with carmine he
made a very presentable fig Tire of the
jolly old saint.
In one corner of the Sunday school
room an imitation fireplace had been
constructed, with a chimney extending
nearly to the ceiling, which was about
DOWN CAME SANTA CLACB.
twenty feet hig-h. The whole affair
was made of boards, covered with can-
US and painted to resemble bricks.
At last the auspicious evening l came
round and the church was crowded to
the doors with eager Boonvillians of
every age, denomination and hue.
People were not going to stay away be
cause they belonged to other churches.
Santa Claus wasn't billed to appear at
any other church, and all were wel
come.
The mysterious-looking chimney was
the center of observation, and it was
hard work for the superintendent to
gain any attention at all when he pro
ceeded with the opening exercises.
He spoke briefly of the expected guest
of the evening, and there was a song
or two, but his words were received
with manifest impatience and the
songs were rushed through in double
quick time.
At the appointed moment for the ar
rival of Santa Claus there was a faint
jingling of bells, as if in the distance.
The merry jingle grew louder and
louder, and stopped apparently just
overhead with a final jingle accom
panied by a shrilly-shouted; "Whoa!"
Then there was a commotion in the
chimney and suddenly a fuzzy white
head popped up from the opening at
the top and a gleeful "Ha, ha!" issued
from the make-believe Santa as he held
aloft an armful of toys. In another
moment he emerged from the fireplace
below and went capering about the
Christmas tree, hanging the contents
of his pack upon its branches.
The audience was in a tumult. Every
neck was stretched and twisted to en
able its owner to observe every move
ment of the wonderful apparition be
fore them. The men and boys "Haw
hawed" and shouted and the women
and girls "Oh, myed!" and giggled de
lightedly.
In a few moments his pack was
emptied, and with the squeaky an
nouncement that he had a good many
more chimneys to climb that night St.
Nick bade them good-by and disap
peared in the fireplace.
The room became suddenly quiet and
every eye was raised to the chimney
top in the expectation of getting a
partfng glimpse of the jolly old saint,
but he did not show up at that point.
He came to view lower down and in
anything but a jolly condition. Just
before reaching the top one of the
boards inside the chimney on which he
stepped gave way and down came poor
Santa Claus, chimney and all.
It was rather an unhappy wind-up to
a very clever performance, but there
were no bones broken, and the bogus
Santa Claus joined in the laogh at his
own expense and jocoselj* remarked
that he "never could go up a flue very
gracefully anyhow."
FRANK B. WELCH.
Fixing; It Up.
Young Tutter—l just dropped in to
say that I am getting up a little stAw
ride for Christmas, Miss Maud, and I
thought perhaps you would like to go.
Miss Maude Twickenham (doubt
fully)— Well, I don't know. Mother is
a little particular about my going on
straw-rides, Mr. Tutter. .You know,
she has some very strange notions. I
presume you will drive —as usual?
Tutter—Yes. I expect to.
Miss Twickenham (brightly)— Well,
I guess perhaps I can arrange it. I
will promise mother to sit on the same
seat with the driver. —Life.
On X-mai Morn.
Tommy—lsn't this called the horn
of plenty, mamma?
Mamma—Yes; don't you think it a
pretty title?
Tommy—No, I don't; because I have
eaten all the candy there was in it,
and there wasn't half enough.—Pack.
Inexpensive Gift Mailing.
Mrs. Jamesy—Have you ten dollars,
Dick?
Mr. Jamesy—Here it is. What do
you wajit it for?
Mrs. Jamesy—l want to give you a
Christum* present, dear. —Chicago Rec
ord.
SANTA CLAUS' MISTAKE. j
Mr. asleep o rer
bis pipe, ana Santa Claus at first si(fht
takes it for a chimney. Harpur's
Young People.
floliday Reflection*.
Now the maiden gathers worsted
Slippers her best beau she'U send;
But the man that gets the slippers
Will get worsted In the end.
Ills l>ally Duty.
"And they say you drove that rich
man to drink?"
"Yes, sir, but I couldn't helji it."
"Couldn't help it! What do you
mean?"
"lie made me, sir. 1 wrs las cqaoU- k
am. 'WUrocritlYikiJi#. _
so full of sweet melody and so freight
ed with possible good as that sung by
the angels on the first Christmas Eve.
Who can sing sweeter than angels?
And what sentiment surpasses that of
"Glory to God" and "Peace on Earth?"
If mortals could perfectly weave these
sentiments into character, each life
would be a psalm of sweeter music
than that sung by these angels. This
indeed is the meaning of the song,
and of the remarkable child, and of
Christmas. Where, also, on our green
earth, is there a spot more worthy to
be the birthplace of such a babe than
Bethlehem in Judea? This ijuiet vil
lage hangs upon the crescent hillside
like a bird's nest among leaves, and
the circling hills form a natural cra
dle, sheltered from the winds, and fo
cusing the sun's December rays. On
almost any winter night you can stand
upon their oriental housetops and see
the moonlight flooding this eradle val
ley with its silvery halo, and watch
the shepherds now, as of old, tending
their flocks of sheep and goats, and,
so real is the scene, that you can al
most hear again the angel song, and
fancy that hope Is dawning anew on a
weary world as the morning dawn
rises over the Moab uplands eastward.
The setting of these sacred hills is not
unworthy of the Jewel It bore.
Now, for eighteen centuries, once a
year, at least, men have turned their
thoughts toward the sacred village,
the sun and the manger, and. like the
wise men of the East, have laid their
gifts and homage at the feet of this
newborn babe.
Christmas day is the best of all our
holidays. There is more meaning in it
than in any other we celebrate. It is
cheeriest and has the most reason to be
so. It is by emphasis a day of the heart
and of the home. Motherhood and babe
hood, and home and hope, are its
touches of nature that make the whole
world kin. What is holier than moth
erhood? It subdues the warring race
of man into brotherhood by its tender
memories of years long gone and its
tenderer ministering of years now pres
ent. And what is sweeter than babe
hood? Artists have painted this
Christ-babe as the perfection of all
babe loveliness. The babe of the Sistine
Madonna expresses our thought of
what the Babe of Bethlehem was, and
who docs not love a babe? With a babe
and a mother we have home and child
hood. Nazareth, like Bethlehem, is a
garden among the hills, and here was
the home and childhood of Christ.
Here yet Mary's fountain flows from
the rock and the women water-car
riers, erect and in single file, bt«ar the
graceful water jars upon their shoul
ders. The stone dwellings and simple
furniture are as of old.
It was in a manger at birth and a
humble dwelling through childhood
that the divine-human babe was intro
duced to a life that has brought hope
and cheer to multitudes.
Thus Christmas speaks to man
through some of the dearest relation
ships he sustains, and the words it
speaks are that all men should live for
the glory of God and for peace v.mong
men.
Christmas is well celebrated in song,
after the example of the first celebra
tion. Music is the language of joy.
Heart joy speaks in the soft murmur
ing music of the soul when no ear is
near; home joy finds expression in the
chorus of mingled voices around the
hearthstone; a nation's joy breaks
forth in martial hymns or peans of lib
erty; universal joy demands angelic
harmonies. Once the stars sang to
gether for joy and the trees of the
fields clapped their hands, and once
angelic messengers sang a Christmas
anthem of universal peace.
Christmas is well celebrated with
gifts. When Heaven gives so royally
to men, men may well give to each
other. How rich in self-forgetfulness
and how beautiful in service was that
life which Christmas celebrates. Santa
Claus with his loaded pack has stood the
criticism of the years largely because
of the spirit of giving which he repre
sents —Christmas gifts and Christmas
songs. GILBEBT FREDERICK.
BEiORE TOMMY AWAKES.
Bat —Ther** little boy that
won't suffer from eating too much be
fore breakfast —K. Y- Herald
DUaatlaOed Bar-
Mr. Hojack—Surely. Johnny, yon are
not crying with all those Christmas
presents that Santa Claus has brought
you? ,
Johnny (between 6obs)—' There Isn't
(boo-hoo!) anything to make a (boo
hoo!) noise with —Harper's Barar
FROM AX OLD, OLD BONO.
Pull of irr*.» and blesteTabove al!
ThJ! birthday on CHHatin.i dot*
fall _ L
Tl»» Vtrl'» Plaaaant I'art.
'•Mr. Lillib. V £ ave me a P* 311 h4t
pin for a Chris P r< »f n^,
"What did yc « * ,ve hlm . ' „ . . a£r „
-Permission *> lt "
News.
A sioi* w crrt,r '
• Haw-haw:" lax. ***
man. as he read the ® misUUeß .
easterners make sol q nnder t he head
You've got croquet* t
oi entries- Out wea V fIW* 1
—fclTTijfcdl T -
MO 5 5
Dixie's Land
"OS FOR- THE TU
CH.MTER XXL
ri-lonr ASli PUNEriI
In these concluding chapters of m*
narrative, tnnnv details must be omit*
ted The str-ss and suspense of th#
situation at which we have now
rived in it* progress are acting upon
rue somewhat as the real scene* of
t...rty year* ago affected me, J
must go rapiill v forward to the cloee.
It may therefore be said tluit the skill
an»l management of Le I'evre, with the
friendly aid of the house servant*, pnl
in successful operation the initiative
of the plan of escape that he had de
vised. A little after midnight Coralie
and I were in a carriage that had been
brought by a roundabout plantation
road some distance above the liouae.
Le Fcvre took the reins, and drove
rapidly toward Donaldsouville.
Ue had judged rightly as to what the
occupation of Conrad Bostock and his
boon companions was likely to be on
this night. A good account of their
roysterings. and of the manner in
which Coralie'* flight was discovered,
was afterward furnished to me by one
of the negro women who listened In
trepidation at the parlor door, anxioua
for some hint as to what waa to be
come of herself and "the people" of
the plantation. The negroes had heard
the rumor that the "new maussa" In
tended to sell thern all, and let the
plantation to some one who could
stock it; and l!es.s was endeavoring to
secure early information of his real
designs.
The new proprietor had discovered
the repository of the wine, and a dozen
dusty bottles had been brought up.
When sufficient of their contents had
been drunk to make the party merry,
cards were produced, and gambling
commenced. There seemed to be plenty
of money among them, and the game
was continued with varying success
till midnight, when Conrad was largely
the winner.
The bottle had circulated freely, and
the depraved men were ready for any
thing that would yield new excite
ment.
"Two thousand dollars against that
girl!" Gardette shouted.
"Done!" said Bostock.
The cards were dealt, and the others
stood close by the table to watch the
game. Gardette lost.
"Another chance!"' he demanded.
"Yes," said the winner.
This time Gardette won.
"The girl is mine!" he shouted, ex
ultingly.
"We'll play again," Conrad clamored.
"0, no. I'm content. You've won
enough, to-night, to stop."
"You'll play again, the girl against
two thousand dollars, or j-ou'll light!"
the other insisted.
Both were inflamed with wine, and
the excitement of gaming, which is
greater than that of wine. Pistols
were drawn, and one or both would
have fallen; but at this moment their
companions intervened and persuaded
Gardette, for the sake of peace, to con
sent to one more game.
It was played with the same stakes.
Gardette lost. With an oath, he swal
lowed another glass, and said:
"This is a good deal like a farce',
Con. Here we've been playing for the
girl for the last hour, and as the game
turns, you'll keep her. But suppose
I'd won at the end?"
"Then you'd take her."
"Maybe you couldn't deliver her."
"Why not?"
"I don't know; I'm only talking.
But I happened to think, while the
game was going on, and it was doubt
ful who'd be her master, what a silly
lot we were to be playing for some
thing that none of us might ever 6et
eyes on again."
"Now, Gardette, what the devil d'ye
mean?"
"Only a suspicion; that's all. Here
you shut yourself up with your friends
and enjoy yourself half the night, leav
ing that long-headed overseer and that
hot-blooded young chap with him to
kick up all kinds of deviltry with yoHr
"T«HJ FLIT AO AM."
people. You're a nice man to run a
plantation, aint you? You haven't
even asked where they've gone, or
whether they've gone at all or not.
There's been time and chance enough
for them to run all your niggers to the
swamps."
"They wouldn't dare. They could
never hide 'em, and—"
"Hadn't you better look for your
self?" said Uardette. with a sneer.
Conrad Bostock, irritated but not
apprehensive, started for the door and
flung it open. Bess tried to get away,
but he sprang after her and seized her
by the arm.
"What are you doing here, you
wench?" he demanded, shaking her by
the shoulder.
"Nothing, maussa."
"Where's the overseer, and that
young fellow?"
The woman hesitated.
"Aha!" said Gardette. "Tell me, yon
black scarecrow—or I'll cut your heart
out! " ~ . ..
"Dey done gone to Don son,
screamed the frightened woman.
"How long ago?"
" 'Bout an hour, maussa."
"Who went with them?"
"O maussa —"
"Tell, you wench—or I'll cut your
; throat!"
One of the men handed him a knife.
The woman cried and begged.
"Tell me the truth, then, or you
i die!**
I "Missy Coral went wiv 'em. Dey're
all goin' to de nawf."
With an oath the infuriated master
flung the woman off, and rushed for
the stables, followed by his com
panions. Everything on wheels we
hopelessly disabled.
"Who did this?" he thundered, to the
trembling negro in charge.
"Maussa Le Fevre, sah. I begged
i him not—but he done would do it.
"Where's the other horses—and the
"He done turn 'em all outen do
cane." .
•'Go catch tbem-qujek.
"I'll try, maussa—but de &lgnt
dark, an' It takes long time to find
'em."
JTO BE CO:,TIXCCDj
"May I call yon suO U »
.. B ut you have known me