AJ2hri3tma Menage
((Lrf - . fi '.m 4fc!
'p BethlhemTaslumber amidst"tJiyjtaritt hill
Those fair Judaean pastures, whose ancient lore' fulfils
The prayer of Priest .and Prophet, the hope of HeaveiTand Earths
Dost hear, in dreams ecstatic, the anthem of Love's birth ? f
foost.see in Wondrous vision,' theaureole-crowned WngX
jThe'star-led.Magi. speeding, their "precious gifts to bring fV
Dost see the Mother bending with yearning heart and eyes)
0'erthatJrKarnate.5aviounr.the.Lord of earth and skiesj
'O'heartrdbst'hear the story :Tor art thou tbo7asleep.
'5o weary with the vigil that human hearts 'must Keep?,
Dost know; that thou dost 'shelter.-like Bethlehem of oldy
iTheson of Cod incarnate.and gifts of grace , untold t
And as the star mummed The,way,Mhat holy nights
iThy life may guide all wanderers.'s.wiuv Love's' eternal li
15
J UCUlfClldll CtWCUWIlI J I Kl
CHRI5TAAt'
ADED was the book
keeper, for It bad been
a wearisome day In
the office. An almost
constant hum, hum ot
' voices, and footsteps
going in and out, and accustomed as
he was to It, noise grated on the
bookkeeper's nerves, for it was near
the close of the month's business,
when the trial balance would be on,
and the balance of the year expected.
He was tired, brain tired, nerve
tired and soul tired, and the long
rows of figures seemed Instinct with
life, little dancing imps trying to
dodge and hide from his memory, lur
ing him on to errors which would
afterwards cause endless search and
trouble to discover.
The manager had gone home, and
the other employes, having finished
their work, were at liberty to go also.
"Going home, Mr. Smith?" asked
the clerk, a fresh cheeked young man,
whose voice fell pleasantly on the
bookkeeper's ear. He had been
Young, care free and sanguine him
self once, and he had a tender feeling
for young men.
"Not Just now, Charlie. About an
hour's work here yet." He looked
after the Jaunty, elastic figure, with
a slight sigh for bis own lost youth.
He was old; he felt it in every nerve,
joint and brain cell, and he wondered
how many years of rest it would take
to obliterate the Impress of life's toll.
There must be figures Imprinted on
his brain, he thought, and figures
danced before his eyes at night when
he would sleep, in never ending pro
cession. '
"It's going to be cold to-night, Mr.
Smith," said the Janitor, when at last
the safe was locked and the book
keeper struggled into his overcoat far
too thin for the weather, old and
"THE LIGHT OP THE WORLD."
V
..V
4
's- '
r
from the painting by Holmaa Hunt, R. A.
. sj Iff
i C4I l3V emu. oiiiyiv
worn In the battle of life, like him
self.
"Yes. Light the Ores a little early,
Johnson, please, for I shall .be on
hand before the others."
"All right, sir." The Janitor looked
after him with a pitying smile. "Poor
old duffer. I expect he knows he's
got to put in his best licks If he holds
his Job. It's a hard world, that's
what It Is."
It was a small cottage home where
the weary footsteps at last halted.
and there was a female figure on the
little porch In front.
"Is that you, papa?"
"Yes, Mattle. How Is my dear to
night?"
"How Is my dear? Your dear Is
all right," she answered, with brisk
pleasantry, as Bhe locked her arm in
hlB, and swung the door wide open
"I know you are tired. I can feel
your muscles quiver."
"YeB, Mattle. How warm and sav
ory you smell in here," he said, Inhal
ing the pleasant odor-and warmth
gratefully. It was such a cheerful
little sitting room, with pictures
tastefully hung, draped windows, and
restful easy chairs Invitingly placed,
In one corner Btood an organ and In
the warmest corner a couch,where the
father could stretch his weary limbs
at night and'listen to the old songs,
which, better than the finest opera
music, rested his fagged brain and
lifted him out of his present Into a
happier past or into the swift com
ing future, where the books will be
opened, and credit given to a poor,
weary, old bookkeeper who has done
bis best.
Just beyond, the little tea table
with its snowy cloth and glimmer of
modest silver and glassware, beck
oned temptingly, but Mattle shook
her finger in warning. "You are not
even to look toward the dining room
until I call - you, papa," she said,
laughingly. "I should have had sup
per all on if you wore not such an
unpunctual party. Sit down now and
get warm while I am gone."
He sank into the red covered rocker
with the slippers standing suggestive
ly before It, with a smile. It is so
good to be at home, and Mattle was
such a cheery little homekeeper that
his mantle of care slipped off for the
moment, and his weary eyes drooped
dreamily in the warm firelight. '
"I do believe you have been nap
ping, papa," Mattle said, as Bhe came
in ten minutes later. She did not tell
him that she had dropped a tear, and
a kiss as light and soft as a downy
snowflake on his tired eyes to awaken
him, as, she stood beside Mm, her
heart swelling with a great pity and
love. '
"Come, dear, waffles and tea will
rest you, I know, and Aunt Dean has'
sent in a platter of fried chicken and
some of her fine, white clover honey."
"Quite a feast, my child," said the
father, smilingly, as he took his seat
before the plate of steaming waffles.
"Aren't you afraid I shall develop
gout If we live so high?"
It was their little joke, and each
laughed merrily as Mattle poured the
tea. "How is it to-day, papa?" she
asked, wistfully, as the meal pro
gressed. ' She dreaded, too, to bring
In any of the day's worry or griev
ance, but she had been so anxious.
"Not much better, daughter. Mr.
Rollins was coolly civil, that was all,
and the manager fretted over a mis
take which was more his fault than
mine. It is ot no use to disguise the
truth, dear. I can feel it in the air
that there will Boon be a younger
bookkeeper at the desk, and the old
man will have to take what he can
get. I can see they put their heads
together and speak low, and are
careful to close, doors when . I am
about. They mean to let me down
easy, I suppoBe, and not hurt my feel
ings; as If anything would hurt worse
than to know one has outlived his
usefulness." And all the pain and
trouble of the weeks past seemed con
centrated In the trembling bitterness
ct hlB tono. "There, love, I have
made you cry forgive me, dear. It
will be all right, Mattle. The Lord
will never leave nor forsake me we
have HIb promise," and bis fingers
threaded her brown hair gently, and
with a smile ot trust, though the tears
were starting, as Bhe clung around
his nock, patting his withered cheek
and telling him how she loved him,
and how too dear and good he was
to be the slave ot heartless men who
only cared for business and money,
and could not appreciate the honest,
conscientious service he had given
them.
It was her foolish, woman's way
of looking on the one Bide when her
love throbbed so flrecely that her
heart seemed bursting and breaking
with Its weight. The tears seemed to
clarify the mental air, as an electric
storm takes out the malaria of the
material atmosphere, and both could
smile again as they went back to the
Billing room. '
The world was big enough for all,
and surely there must be ample room
somewhere for a tired father whose
lifelong record of faithfulness and
Integrity had been hla capital. She
sang for him, tender, quaint Bongs
which cheered and soothed him, and
played soft, restful melodleB which
smoothed the knotted, care worn
brow Into .tranquillity, and filled her
heart with serene peace.
After all, what did It matter? Only
a few Bhort years, and then rest the
rest which remains, and whose deep
mysteries none come back to tell.
'What would It matter there whether
he finished his ltto work with one
or the other, bo that It was finished
honeBtly and faithfully.
He wont-to bed early and stretched
his tired Trnibs with deep thankful
ness for home and the home love
whloh so took the sting out of life's
contest. Mattle was bo like her moth
er, dear girl. Ood had been very good
to give him the devotion of two such
CHRIST AND THE CHILDREN.
Or
1
$ t
1
mi ,
BY OTTILLIE
loving, faithful souls and thinking
bo of her, ho foil asleep.
It was the day' before Christmas,
and strugglo against it as he would,
the bookkeeper's heart was still
heavy. The first of the year would
doubtless Bee the new Incumbent,
whoever it might be, installed in his
place, and he watchod every sus
picious arrival with a feverish anx
iety.
There was more than ever the air
of mystery In the office to-day, and
the manager whispered to the clerk,
and the clerk directed off-hand In
quiry, which might mean everything
or nothing to the cashier, and so it
went until his heart was like lead,
and his hands trembled bo with ner
vous chill that he could scarcely make
his figures.
"The manager would like to see
you, sir, in his private office," said
Tom, the office boy, in his ear, and he
arose, trembling.
"Well, Mr. Smith," said the man
ager, in his easy, prosperous tones;
he had his thousands invested, be
sides his position, and had no need
to worry over the price of coal or
breadstuffs. "You have worked for
us about ten years now, I believe."
The bookkeeper lifted up a haggard
face, in which there was not a trace
of color. It had come, then, and he
must carry the news to Mattle on
Christmas Eve. "Yes, sir, ten years
come January," he managed to stam
mer out. If he had looked behind
him he would have seen the door
filled with smiling faces, but he was
too miserable to care who saw his
misery. s
"And all these years you have
served ub faithfully."
"I have tried to, sir." j
"We are not much given to sentl-
? and on rarffaPe-,
Toroaro men.
- NTT J-M-J-CW-
meat, Mr. Smith, but It occurs to HI
that it Is only Just, sir, that we cele
brate this holiday occasion with a
little token ot our appreciation. Tom,
yon bengar, come along hero with
that package."
The o(Il co boy came grinning, with
a great bundle which he laid In the
manager's arms. "We have noticed,
sir, that you are growing old, as well
as the rest ot us, and that your step
Is not as elastic as when you first
entered our employ," pursued the
manager as he cut the string and un
rolled a handsome fur lined coat, the
very odor ot which suggested lux
urious warmth, "and that yon hover
over the fire a little more, conse
quently, than when your young blood
kept you warm, and as we wish to
keep you with ub for another ten
years, if you desire it, we thought our
most appropriate gift would be some
thing like our regard and eBteem for
you, something warm and lasting
hang It, Smith, I told the boys I
couldn't mako a speech stand up
here and try on this coat, for the
tailor 1b watting to exchange It It It
doesn't fit."
The dazed bookkeeper stepped for
ward like one in a dream, and held
out hie arms mechanically, and the
manager patted and smoothed the
luxurious garment across the thin
shoulders, which had lost their up
right, sturdy carriage by long stoop
ing over the books.
"Such a time, sir, as we have had
getting your measure," remarked the
cashier, with a genial smile. "You
wore sure to look around If we had a
word to say to each other."
"If the rest are through with the
floor, perhaps I can get In a word,"
added Mr. Rollins. "I am authorized,
sir, to give you an assistant after
January, and with that help your
hours will be shorter, and the work
less confining."
"I don't mind the work, Indood I
don't," cried the bookkeeper, laugh
ing like a boy, though the great tears
were rolling down his cheeks un
heeded. "I've never been afraid of work,
4 - iJt
'wj yjn
-- ii ttr1i '
ROEDERSTEIN.
From "The t'lirist Face in Art."
clr, but I have felt that I no longer
gave you satisfaction. I cannot tell
you all this means to me," holding
out his trembling hands to Mr. Rollins
and the manager. "I think It is the
happiest day of my life, sirs."
"What we meant It should be, a
merry Christmas, and may there be
many happy returns ot the day to
you, sir," replied the manager cor
dially. Mattle was listening with the anx
ious heart which she always carried
of late when her father stayed later
than usual, for the first sound of his
familiar step. The kettle was singing
a merry invitation to tea in the
kitchen, and a pair of fine, new slip
pers stood waiting before the fire for
a pair of weary feet, Mattle's Christ
mas gift to her father.
She threw the door open wide as
he came quickly up the snowy steps,
and she hardly knew him when he
stepped in, bo wrapped in warmth
and loaded with bundles that he
looked like a veritable Santa Claus,
his face radiant with joy.
"I It merry Christmas, papa?" she
asked, looking up in his face with
surprise and hope.
"A merry Christmas, dear," he
answered, lifting her expectant face
for a kiss. "It was all a mistake, my
darling, and I will tell you all about
It as we take tea." Mrs. F. M. How
ard, In The Bookkeeper.
The Rich Boy's Chrintmns.
And now behold thU miking boy,
lln costly presents bring no joy;
Hanh tears of anger fill his eye,
Tho' ht has all that wealth can buy.
What proiiU it that he employ
His many gifts to make a noise?
His playroom is so placed that be
Can cause his folk no agony.
Mere worldly power does not possess
The power of giving happiness.
Qoob fbill
-e -H -il-U
On a Visit.
Whon I ro to my CJrnm'ma' an'
Hlit. gi'is d'.ne klssln' m,
1 wnmW wlmt's to hapiun nfi',
(Don't have to 'cllo no "tlulilon Te'
At Oiuin'nm's110, str-fcu!)
My Ormn'ma, site puts on her specs
That's an's 'at alio can soc
"More like his fnthur rv'ry day:
Don't fiivor his rim's folks, 1 she'll say,
"A mite, It 'years to me."
My Ornm'pa. when we co outdoor
To Klve th' luirso hts feed,
Stands me up '(.'iilimt th' bin barn door
An' imi
iiiks it
whure I've grow'd om
more.
I'm "growln' like a weed!"
My (Iram'ma know It' drelTi hard
For busy folks like me
To have to stop an' take a napi
An' so I sleep right on her lap;
An' after we go see
If Mr. (llngersnnn Is hi
lie haa a roun , tin
homo-
house
An' I can "help niysn'f to some,"
An' mus'nt drop a single crum',
Bo' not to call th' mouse.
My Oram'pa says I'll help him lota
If I'll hunt' round an' see
Wleh pockut's got his wlntergreeni
An' peppermints I know he mean
His cundy; Borne' for me!
W'en I'm all grow'd up tall an' big
I don't know w'lch 1
li
A Grnm'ma or a Oram'pa, 'cause
'i ney re not so good to niei
Marie Ixmlse Tompkins, In Harper'
Weekly.
My Lady's Clothes. ' ' ''
A color barred game for girls 1b
"My Lady's Clothes," or "Dressing the
Lady." The players flrBt decide on
what colors shall be forbidden; per
haps blue, black-and pink. The first
player then asks the next, "How shall
my lady bo dressed for the ball?" and
the answer must contain no mention
of these colors. This question goes
around the ring, no article being al
lowed to be mentioned twice. Any one
using the forbidden colors must pay
any penalty suggested by the leader
ot the game. Philadelphia Record.
Dean Swift's Sally.
Once during a Journey on foot Dean
Swift stopped at a roadside tavern,
or nlebouse, to obtain some refresh
ment. The landlady was bo busy chat
ting with and serving several wagon
ers, whom Bhe evidently thought su
perior persona to the dusty and road
stained dean, that she obliged him to
wait her pleasure to serve him. While
waiting Dean Swift walked about the
front of the bouce, and, observing that
It was called "The Three Crosses"
owing to the fact that It was at the
three intersecting roads leading to
various cities he took from his
pocket a diamond and cut on each
pane of glass In the best room in tho
house the following:
"To the landlord: There hang three
crosses at thy door. Hang up thy wife
and she'll make four." Washington
Star.
They Valked the Plank.
Last Sunday afternoon a friend and
I took a walk along the railroad tracks
by tlie Hudson river. We saw a large
ship from the south which was tied
to a wharf. As we wished to board It
we called to a sailor whom we saw on
deck. He then helped us over as the
distance was too great to jump alone)
and took us all over the ship, showing
us the kitchens, cabins and state
rooms. Everything was as neat as
wax.
We met the captain, who was a jol
ly old gentleman. Tho Bailors were all
dressed In white from tip to toe. They
treated us to some delicious tropical
fruit, which I assure you we both en
Joyed. When we were ready to leave
they put up a board, and for the first
time we walked the plank. We then
went home, after having had a most
delightful afternoon. Rosalind Dun
kin, In the New York Tribune.
Mary Thomas's Career.
Think of a doll 70 years old! But
Mary Thomas has lived TO years, and
she hasn't a gray hair or a wrinkle. A
very well preserved doll Is Mary
Thomas.
When she was a young thing that
is to say, back In the year 1838 or
thereabouts this doll lived In a toy
shop in Canal street In those days
Canal street was one of the chief
shopping streets and was considered
quite far uptown; as for 14th street,
that was the country! One day to this
shop In Canal street there came a lit
tle girl named Margaret, with her
mother. Margaret had several dolls,
but was there ever a little girl whose
heart couldn't take In one more doll?
And this doll In the Canal street shop
was a wonderful one for those days. It
measured 34 Inches high, and when a
child four years old stood beside it
the doll was the taller by the two. It
had real hair, too, and nice round,
rosy cheeks.
Margaret dreamed about that doll
nights, but she didn't suppose she
would ever have the happiness of own
ing it. When Christmas morning
came, however, there was the wonder
ful doll sitting in a chair near her oth
er presents, wearing a dress wltn pink
bows, and a little turban with pink
rosettes at the ears. Margaret named
the doll Mary Thomas, after her moth
er and father, and you may be Bure
she loved Mary Thomas dearly, even
after she became a woman and didn't
play with dolls any more.
Almost all the people who lived in
the days when Mary Thorias went to
live with Margaret are dead now, but
Mary Thomas doesn't seem to mind,
bhe smiles as STcetly as ever. She
lives with a little girl named Mary J.
Douglass, Whose home is a rambling,
old-fashioned house up among the
Casklil mountains. There not long ago
Mary Thomas stood up unuer a chest
nut tree In tho yard and had her pic
ture taken. She is dressed in a white
net gown, trimmed with via velvet,
and a black velvet turban, like the one
she used to wear In her youth; and
she carries tho dearest pink parasol,
with fringe around It, and a little
work basket, In which are her hand
er chief and a tiny penknife about
as long as a needle. New York Tri
bune. The Daddy-Long. Leg.
The children were down In the big
meadow, having a picnic supper near
the brook beneath a large elm tree.
"Oh, see what I'ce got!" exclaimed 8u
san, who was very adventurous, and
not afraid ot any Insects or strange
animals that came near her. Just as
she spoke and the others turned to
see what she bad, she cried, "He's
gone,, but he's left bis leg behind!"
"How cruel you are, Susan," Bald
Sammy, "to pull off his leg! What
was he?"
Susan looked very sober Indeed as
she regarded the delicate wiry insect'
leg that remained In her hand.
"t was a daddy-long-legs, and he
walked over my sandwich and then
stopped, bo I took hold of him to see
what be waa like. I didn't mean to pull
this off." .
Her big brother Henry said, "Don't
be too sorry, Susan. He doesn't care,
you know."
"Doesn't he?" asked the girl. "Why
not?"
"Why, you see, he is made with his
legs hitched on very lightly, so that
he can leave one or two behind If he
has to."
"Oh, Heury," cried the children,
"you must be joking."
"Not a bit of It," tie replied. "You
see, the daddy-long-legs has to go
about among the long grass a good
deal. In fact, the egg he cornea out of
Is usually laid way down near the
roots, so one of the first things a lit
tle daddy has to learn Is bow to go
right on If be gets tangled up, and
let his limb stay In the trap If it has
to. He Is really tougher than he looks,
and though you can almost see
through him, the farmers In certain
places call him 'leather jacket.'"
Susan was holding the leg while
Henry was talking.
"I'm glad I didn't hurt him," she
Bald, "and I will keep this till we go
home, for he may come bacg to find
It."
But to their best knowledge he nev
er did. W. L. S., in Youth's Compan
ion. Rover.
Rover Is a big, black Newfoundland
dog, and ho told us the other day
which of our boys stoned him.
"Dogs can't talk," I think I hear you
say. Can't they? The next time you
see a dog, watch bis tail and his ears
and his eyes, and I a msure you will
know just what the fellow thinks.
Words could not be plainer.
Why, our little dog Pink runs out
on the porch every night at train time
to watch for her master, who comes
on the cars. The moment he Is In
sight, and long before I can see him,
Pinks tells me he Is coming. How does
she do It? She wags her bushy white
tall with all her might and main. But
Pink Isn't Rover, and we must go back
to him.
Rover lives in Now Jersey. He Is a
very kind dog, and never runs at peo
ple passing by on the road. But the
boys often stone him, wbich I think
very unkind and wicked, and he does
not forget those who treat him badly,
as we shall see.
His master's house stands near the
puuiic road; and In the front yard
there Is a well of pure cool water.
The kind master keeps a cup at the
well, so that the thirsty travelers, on
the road may help themselves to a
drink. Rover generally lies under the
front porch, but he never offers to
touch the tramps who come to the
well.
I sat on the porch the other day
when four boys came into the yard
to get some water. They were all
strangers; and Rover walked out from
under the porch, and sat down by the
well. I was afraid he was going to be
rude and bark; but be seemed to be
very much pleased with the visitors.
One boy drank, then the second, and
the third. Rover wagged his tall, and
looked so kindly at them that I
thought: "What a polite dog you are!
You treat guests as handsomely as
your master does. I wonder If you
have taken lessons."
Just then the fourth boy put out
his hand to take the cup, when Rover
gave a savage bark which frightened
the boy so that he screamed, and took
to his heels. Rover followed blm some
way down the road, dismissed him
with a parting bark, and then came
slowly home, wagging his tail, as
much as to say: "That's pretty well
done. I think that boy won't bother
me any more."
I haven't seen the boy since; but
he was badly frightened, and I think
he'll be very careful how he stones
any other dogs. The Nursery.
Lesson From Nature.
"Young gentlemen," lectured the
eminent Instructor, "you are old
enough now to put away the childish
and, trivial amusements that sufficed
for you when you were younger. Learn
lesson from tho dumb brutes, and
even from the reptiles. When they ar
rive at maturity they comport them
selves with a certain dignity.
'It isn't with the rattlesnake, pro
fessor," objected the young man with
the bad eye. "The older he grows, the
more rattles he plays wlth'-Chicago
Tribune.