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HomeMy WebLinkAboutClinton New Era, 1893-12-08, Page 14rt 4 0111USTNIASEVA E I J reatireas'A Ingle MIA Jnc14 Eroet. ty, 1 ar W. W. 4t 4.9.4, yrsPm.ase, had p iia Pretty' tlrl. ,with: small, aoatawhat . irregular- features and a neat little figure. Irs. enroeet altor thirty Yenta of . e Married life, ' a ' Y r i , ,w s an immensely stout woman, red•laced and somewhat short of breath; all the beauty of irosh complexion_ and bright eYea gone; a11 irre u ariitiesaf features brought out and rendered promin• ' eat by their puffiness and various harddinea about the mouth and a -scowl on the low foreh@ait that made hers not the face to which the wretched instinctively look ,fez', help, Mrs. Penrote'e ample person was enveloped in a flannel wrapper of forbidding aspect. Mre.Tenroee'e,head wag surmounted to a huge -cap, in" Which' as much valenoiennes axed neeilowork as possible was wasted in malcimitiaaleek- ugly.- Mrs. Penrose's feet ' were i Bile, slippers, and jeweled eyeglassos hand; in was nodding'ov_er the Bible. Mrs. e E enrose was going th bbd. ",Give, and it Shallbe given to you," she read aloud,eleepily.. " Then"! ought to have something hand come," Murmured she, by way of commen tary; and looked around the room. .: It was a handsome roam, that of Mrs, - enroae. Pictures--eachone worth far 'roore than a poor girl's ybarly earnings— lined the walls three deep ; the carpet was an:Axminster ; those ugly little oups and t' saucers in the cabinet by the mantel Dost as muoh as would have fed and clothed a small family for six months ; huge India • vases towered on the mantel ; a long mir- ror flashed back the light from its gleaming depths and the very Bible from which she read was a superb English folio, with rare engravings, and upheld by a curiously carved reading stand of dark wood. But it was not at the room or its furnishings— though she prided herself on having the items of their cost at the tongue's end, as Many an unlucky listener could testify— that Mrs, Penrose looked with such serene and virtuous exultation. It was the Pres- ents—ranged on every side, loading the gs and piled up in cabinets. Cobweb ceries in lace, into which were woven the light of young oyes and the tears of old ones, Tare copies of poets' and painters' sweetest thoughts, for those whose shelves and walla were teeming with them already; jewels flashing from half -opened cases; coat- lyappecimens of useless ingenuity. Verily, if Mrs. Penrose applied that gracious promise, her bosom, ample as it was, could scarcely have contained "the good measure pressed down and running over" that was to be given her. 7Ouf 1" puffed Santa Claus, as' he pulled up sharply at Mrs. Penrose's olrmney. "How, in the name of plum -pudding,, am I to carry that load ?" "That's the;horses' lookout," quoth Jaok Frost, blowing his nose. "Besides, isn't it your business ?" "Can't a goblin grumble a little, if it is?" growled Santa Claus. "And, moreover, my cool friend, though you may be posted up as to icebergs, and rather a sharp one in your way, you've a thing or two to learn yet ; and one is, that wicked gifts weigh heavy as lead—heavy as the hearts of the poor to whom she hasn't sent them. These are gifts to the rich. Look at these laces for Mrs. PI iiidoodle. Why, her drawers won't hold hat she has now. Laces, in - r1 ed t -.eta r have sent a turkey to that in the alley near her house and a ffanndtticoat to her old mother. Whoa! Prancer! See, the very horses know better. Now, if it had been a load three times as high, of wood and flannels and turkeys and books for those who haven't them, and toys for poor babes and -well, anything to gladden the wretched—you should have seen how they would have gone. Light as the crust ou a Christmas pie." "Boreas 1" muttered Jack; "I'll fix her. I'll give her a Christmas present. She shall have one of my dreams." And with. out so muoh as a parting nod he plumped down the chimney. "Cool, that," said Santa Claus to himself he tucked in the buffaloes; but then hat's his way. "Get up, Vixen 1" and he dashed off to Mrs. Plumdoodle's, Meanwhile, Mrs. Penrose began to shiver. She raked the fire and drew her wrapper closer around her and,,put on a shawl ; but she only grew.,polder; and when she tried to ring the bell, she found, to her horror, that she couldn't stir. And then the fire, and the pictures, and the gleaming mirror, and odd china, ani all the other items of that bill of costs of which Mrs. Penroae was so proud, began to move off, no—it was she that was moving —upright and motionless, as if sbe was frozen in her arm -chair -- through the cold, dark night, side by side with an odd looking old man, buttoned up to the chin with an icicle on the top of a very red nose and a cold blue eye that, every time it glaneed towards her, sent chills even to her toes. Pretty predicament that for a woman in Mrs. Penrose's exalted station ; and apart from the propriety, dreadfully uncomfort- able. The odd little man had such a dis- agreeable way of looking at her over his nose—it made her feel exactly as if she was some poor guilt -stricken wretch, trembling before justice, instead of Mrs. P. P. Penrose, the Wader of her set and the model of the virtues. She wanted to ask him if he knew who she was and what ho wanted, bet her tongue like her limbs, refused obedience. But the little man must have divined her thoughte, for he answered sharply : Yes, ma'am. You're Mrs. Penrose and I'm Jack Frost, and as to what I mean, look and see for yourself." Mrs. Penrose was close by a little third - story window in one of those curious streets that have grown dingy and musty, and crowded and noisy, and yet have not alto. er a iven themselves over to squalor lways to be saying : et of pretensions and ast." m that the e same and filth, " I was once I will be genteel to And so if was with the little window lighted. There wa mournful and wan gentility. The 1, 1 sed - bareare carpet had been a Brussels, the st1W urniture was that in which our wealthy forefathers delighted, and the face of the middle-aged Woman who was putting the lace on that elaborate handkerchief spoke most unmiotakably of better days. A little Wlock on the'ohimney•pieoe struck twelve. ho roman shivered --for the fire was out --held , up the handkerchief wearily and hed. " Thn-e's two hoursmore of work on fiat githear.ok, you see, ma'am," said Jaok coat, addressing himself to Mrs. Penrose. ":It ie as cold -in there as it is out hero and "the don't dare kindle any more, for she bas lanly'"a few Conte left. "',site id ,angry, too, for she hos lived on listed and 'tea -for a week. But sho can't tafarpoven i.af catch a n otltent's sleep. She 1jd making, that for the wealthy Mrs, i'en- 4olio, slits, intends it for a Christmas gift an_ if, g is not hums by morning elm will lose that lady's cust9tn., 'nark 1 what, is that the to sayfli r* 'The than ave to the rich shall' aural , come to want 1. wonder if that will 'ever 'hap eta to Mrs.' Ponrdae.I I won• der ; . if efts will; ever feel this- deadly cold esu .-,this merttilo a van w ra, tg,t I as a itor bowie to•day and 'they .showed me her rQed', where she was taking break- fast T alines., hoped ;she would offer nae admit, for I fancied that she might read tile .nl b hu r in , o es if h u. m. oe at,m oho . But she only showed -mete . ft s e . rod to send away -41,1100h ors Le aid. a Y n tvortli,she said. I thought how rich l$ of it would hkve. made me, and my heart leaae. d tip" wh. en she said ;'Moro is your hritmas. mind you, don't prove unrateful.It was only a handkerchief, however—an old silk handkerchief. It would do; she said, to tie around my nook; but I tock itto the ,awn, broker's and ho gave me a ahillin forit." "The good-for-nothin trues 1' Omaha Mrs, Penrose—for eke non dn't emu* iT "my. handkerchief to the awt oker' That handkerchief that I've had fort e h last ten years in a pawnbroker's 1" "What desecration! what black ingrate. tude 1 eh,• Mrs. Penrose? echoed Jack With a grin. "You gave an old cravat to a starving woman and she•pawned it! Out "on suoh a world! You aro too good for it Mrs. Penrose 1" and he puffed a wintry blast in her face that made her shrink further down in her flannel wrapper. "Come on, ma'am. Such an example makes me siok of the human race." And the chair floated on till it stopped at a handsome house looming up grandly in the dim night. "Mrs. Plumdoodle's, Santa Claus has just been here," said Jack, "Let us hope that she will prove more grateful." And before -Mrs. Penrose could think Jack pop- ped down the chimney, and her chair after him, into Mrs. Plumdoodle's boudoir. "Bless my soul 1 what will airs. Plum - doodle say 1 It will be all oyer town be- fore noon to -morrow that I came dowu her chimney in a flannel wrapper," thought Mrs. Penrose ; but she saw presently that both she and her strange companion were quite invisible to Mrs. Plumdoodle,who was examining the sea, of point d'Alencon left by Santa Claus with anything but a delight- ed face. "The old humbug," she said, throwing them down with a jerk, "I suppose she thinks I won't know her old lace—as if I hadn't enough already ! Let me see. Tho first time I saw her wear that was full ten years ago, at the Starbuoks' party. She had it on the waist of that:orange-colored, moire that she was such a fright in,and it's been on her encs and her sleeves till I'm siok of the sight of it. I suppose she got La Fleur to make it up and thought I wouldn't know it and would send some- thing back. But oho won't get a thing from me. Or, stay—yes, that will be paying her o0• in her own coin. I will send her that old daub that has been lying in the attic so long and tell her that I send her a rare specimen of antique art, knowing her fond- ness for that school. He! lra 1 ha 1" " More ingratitude 1" sneered Jack, " You are an unfortunate woman, Mrs. Penrose 1 I sec you are sadly misappreci- ated," and with a whoop and a somersault he went up the chimney, followed by the chair and Mrs. Penrose, who was livid with indignation. By this time the morning had commenc- ed to dawn, gray and cold, and the wretch- ed streets, over which they now took their way, to show signs of life. Mrs. Penrose turned up her nose. " Disgusting, isn't it ?" grinned Jack. " If people will insist on being poor and wretched they might at least keep it out of sight, eh, Mrs. Penrose? Now, look there !" and he pointed downwards as the chair stopped. Iwas in the midst of one of the most wretched -of -the many wretched streetsin the mighty metropolis. Gutters reeking with filth ; houses seeming to totter on their foundations ; little dens of shops, whose wretchedness was only exceeded by that of their occupants, and, worse than all, crowding out from cellars, stumbling down steps, running out; of alleys, hurrying, as if in obedience to some call that she could not hear, hundreds of children—ragged, uncombed, wild-eyed, with naked, bleed• ing feet—shivering as they drew their scanty rags about them—and all looking at her reproachfully, menacingly. " You spent thousand dollars on Christ- mas gifts," said Jack, "but none of these were warmed, or fed, or clothed." And then went up a long wail from the pitiful host, and the children pointed to their bleeding feet and showed her their thin coverings. And then swarmed out women more wild and ragged than the children, scolding, reeling, swearing—some of them —but all looking at her and calling fiercely for bread, fire, clothing, light. " You squandered a thousand dollars on the rich," screamed one. "Give ane some- thing. I have a babe and I cannot nurse it. I am dying of hunger." "Food!" yelled another. "My children and I have tasted nothing since yesterday morning." "Cursed be she who gives to those who want for nothing," exclaimed a third, "while she forgets the poor !" and then went up another long Wail. And the men thronged out—gaunt; savage, threatening, hurling up wild cries and curses toward her. "How ungrateful is this world," sneered Jack. "Were you among those lioudals, they would have your heart's blood." He touched the chair as he spoke, and, to Mrs. Penrose's horror, it began to descend. She struggled, she writhed, she tried to scream ; but a hand of iron held her fast. Nearer and nearer came those dreadful faces ; louder swelled those threatening voices. More frantically struggled Mrs. Penrose ; but still the chair descended ; and now she was in their midst, and they crowded about her and shouted fiercely to kill the purse proud aristocrat ; and the mob swayed to and fro, like waves, and Mrs. Penrose saw they were fastening a rope to aim nearest tree—and— She was awake. The fire was out and she was thoroughly chilled. She looked up at the chock. It wanted a quarter of four. She had slept there _all night. " Bah 1" she yawned ; " how stupid 1 and what horrid dreams one has 1 It must have been) ''at mince pie 1 I must really speak to Mat :+—she makes them too rich. Meroyl how ett 11' I am ; and what strange things I have di' arced. I wonder if there was any truth fnthem ; and if people really do go on in that Outrageous manner, when they aro cold ane/ hungry ; and—and-1 I do won- der what Mrs. Plumdoodle really did say! Folioio, tomo here and help mo off with my wrapper. Tuck up the bed clothes do and,put down that gas. There, that will And Mrs. Penprose went to sleep agal But when she Mao in the morning she it remembered her dream, and it was not until she had sought out some of the poor and made d riatmas indeed &Messing that her terrible ride with Jaok Frost faded from her mind. - A ,, I. . ,AX141_1S U a v ss • °I1X rot a, attiallMalf. We 'were' i Within six Miles'of A t i d(m eao i theus rat an coast and the voyage trom Liver, pool Vsali 19o1rod anomias good as .ended when the Rodney -Castle, as our chip was named,. naught' fire frota a�onaneous o ambuatio the 'ewer hold. b watts. dead am morn, . ing when the fire was.'fre, (liecoveredaud everybody believed we altould coon got',thee boater of it, Por the f;rst two hours .the orew was strong enoughto man- the pp_urat's andThen ass the buckets.• w .b he P a._ fe f t Passengers were called OM. By noan' every man aboard Was helping to fight the fire and it was not untilfour o'clock the afternoon- that, wo gave up. • We had bli enough water, into the shipdrown p her, to wn bet, but the. flames. kept spreading Malaita of all ,lye could do and at the -hour -named the captain ordered the. boats to bo got reads- . We had a crew "of twentymon and there. were exactly sixty-four passengers, all fret class., There were, 1 ,.should gay, about fifteen men, twenty, women and girls and the rest were childrenfrom two to ten or twelve years old. Under the law of that date the Rodney Castle was obliged to carry boats to accommodate one v hundred and twenty-five pereona, for she , often took -out one hundred passengers. Being second. mate, I had charge of the starboard boats,' The third mato was Bent to prepare all the port side boats, while the chief officer and captain continued to direct operations against the fire. All they could hope for was to keep the flames down until we could get ready to abandon the ship. It was an hour of peril, and yet there was no panic and nothing was forgotten. The drat care was to Bee to oars and sails. Then came ono hundred gallons of water to each boat. Then we stowed away meats, crackers, wines, spare sails, small ropes,crockery and cutlery, snatches and tobacco. You see, we had a great lot to select from and so much room in the boats that every one was allowed to take spare clothing and valuables. I did not forget compass, sea - tent and chart and I should have added to the water supply had there been any spare breakers aboarl. I got away from the ship with a sailor named Black and nine of the passengers in my boat. She was a quarter boat and the eleven of undid not crowd her. Black was to take watch and watch with me, as none of the passengers knew anything about handlings boat. I had two married couples two women and three children, the oldest of whom was a boy of six. No one was hurt in getting away and no man ever saw women and children display more heroism. Not a woman fainted and I don't remember that I beard a child crying. The captain's boat pulled away from the ship just as the flames buret through the decks in three or four places at once, and when all the boats had collected to windward one of the passengers offered up a pray of thanksgiving and trust and every man and woman respond- ed " amen 1" This was the 10th day of December and it was Summer time in that latitude. That was of course a great point in our favor, The captain gave the course to each boat, issued orders to bo followed about food and water and encouraged every one to be patient and hopeful. It was seven o'clock in the evening before the ship went down and morning still found the boats together. There was no wind and it was thought a waste of strength to use the oars. Just after noon a light breeze sprang up from the north or dead against us. Everybody was anxious to be moving, however, and so away we went int ins, tacking to the oast and the west and making a little gain to the north every tirne. Thus passed the afternoon. At dark every boat showed_ a light and alt were within speaking distance. Brit for a queer, strange -thing -nothing out of the way would have happened to my boat. I may tell you now that the others reached the coast inside of ten days without suffering or adventure. Tho paint- er of my boat was a new one and extra long ; it was an inch rope and had a length of thirty feet. I expect that one of the children hove the loose end overboard after dark. There was no anchor attached, but perhaps something had been fastened to it. At any rate, we suddenly discovered that some creature of the sea was towing us to the eastward at a very lively rate. He had either seized the rope in his jaws or become entangled in it. He had run a mile with ns 'before Iconld: make MA Oat was, tit Thea •Blielt dr myself wouldba►vo gone fel: ward and oatthe painter, but theiflel was ruainiftt;; s0 strong that , I loRked for' ap. accident every annuls, 1?be° eo ,le' were ver : ,mu v' b ' p Y qh 11,447414 . ,ut I; order@d them W sat still and lto;iir'all flay attention, We jut through -the water lira a whsle, boat td to. ,-'-1 bel eye �' . 1.....,,sur speed, wee, ful#y thirty miles, qn' 1onrfand ,al we ,Were directly, in the trough,of the sea we had to keepbailing-,reeve Ilio boat. The whale' r. shark, r ar or h e .• wh sieves it Wee, towed: us. 'ids seventy inmates before he broke -away' • and. of course we, had long been out of eight of the fleet. . I got the ',boat around 'anal rail baekoverthe course,` but by midnight it had, fallen dei,d calm. As wap subsequently learned', the other boats Carrie ' a breeze right t .to �ld .d oss t. T calm which se o that ightheId ohforfear days and !lights and daring the day' the auu wi a . hot enough to blister, . 'We tried rowing ;tune and 'again, hoping to get clear of the, calm belt; but the work used a Man up in no time; Bifore we had made twenty miles of ,the six hundred ear water was half gone, though we had been on half allowance from the first. I finally had to deal it nub drop by drop and it made my heart ache to hear the wails of the children as their throats grow dry again. T have always been proud of the behavior bf the men and women. All tried to be cheerful 'and hopeful and there was no wrangling or 'complaining. The calm was finally broken by a gale from the 'north, which lasted seventy hours before the wind dropped. During all this time we rode head to the sea with a drag out and every ono aboard drenched 'with water, and we were steadily driving to the south. I estimated that we lost at least three hundred miles by the gale. It took the sea another twelve hours to go down, and when we finally got a breeze from the east and could lie our eouree close-hauled two of the children wore dead and both the young women wore delirious. After we had buried the children I gauged the breaker and found that we had only a pint of water left. We had been doling it out by thimblefuls. Now it must be by drops. Thirty hours after the burial of the chil- dren both young women were dead, leaving seven of us alive. We got fairish weather after the deaths, and though the winds were. light we made a good showing every twenty- four hours. On the day before Christmas I tried to figure our run, but the best I could do was to guess that we were within 300 miles of the coast. The last pinch of crack- er and the last drop of water wore dealt out the previous noon, and we had all become so weak and exhausted that there was no longer any talking and very little moving about. Blank and I were rugged men and had plenty of tobacco and the nicotine pre. vented our suffering for food and drink as severely as the others, though at sundown of that day I would have willingly parted with my right am for a pint of ice-cold water and a loaf of bread. When the - sue• disappeared and night came down I roused Black up to take his place at the helm. I stopped for a word or two with him before yielding the yoke lines, but ho was surly and silent. While I was bidding him to be hopeful he turned on me with : " Then give us something to hope on. In another day there will be no one to manage the boat and alt must die together. Aye, give us something to hope on 1" " What do you mean ?" I asked. " There's the boy. Somebody's got to die, and it better be him than a grown person 1" " Good God, man, but you would not turn cannibal?" " Six can live on or seven can die of star- vation!" he muttered as he turned away. He aroused me at midnight to relieve him and in turn I called him at four o'clock in the morning. It was than fast growing day- light. As he took the helm from me I could §oe that th'tro :vas a wolfish expression in his eyes and I noticed for the first time how pinched and drawn and strange his face had become. " It's got to come to that 1" he whispered as I stared at him. " It would be better to do it before any one awakes 1" I turned to look forward. The mother of the boy had hirn in her arms and was wide awake and looking at us. A horrible suspic- ion had entered her mind and roused her from her stupor. " No 1 No ! Never 1" she shrieked, as she hugged the boy closer to her breast. I lifted my eyes above her and the next instant.I Wass shoutingand' ehrleking like a madman.- There, bearng dorm upon us. and onlY a mile sway, Will a groat Australian ticket, ad. while a e packet, a sV 1 h u d� l4nd, . �4 ne. d andverybod shrank awaym, mo fear;the! the tired aun to tell us we had been saved.' g „ . ;Ip $114dow+' . rear, In t midst ,. i the s of the xA olein at fl. Phri tuna ,t a in e s s id i n very inhume of the. s n a the �a t o, g ,,,d g dnesR, hero. are households on, whtoli Las fallen the bush ,of a great 09r‘, row.' ,Once they too kept festival, were gay with the children, helped to ewell the, Mores of praise, welcomed .Christmas; with effervescentjoy and the elan of hope; One Christmas, perhaps last year, perhapston years ago, all this wag changed. Over the thre old.f' the hoseat the solemn sh e ohonse, mid-. night, or:in the frosty noonday, there glided a black ahadoiv, a ve and et ed h . ern, and ere it lifted ia shape pts wing of gloom hearts broke for sadness; It wart so sudden, they said, who followed on , with tears and lamentations the old world -warn pathway to the place of graves. World -worn pathway and world•old cry, that of Rachel weeping for her children, Raohol who would not be comforted. be- cause they were not. It was always so Bud"- den ud=den ab the last 1 And all life grows dark when there is no longer the Sunshine of the golden head in: our familiar haunts ; all life grows silent when the house no more re- echoes to the sweetest muaio on earth, the patter of little feet on the floor. How thoughtlessly we check the flow of children's everyday mirth, how heedleesly bid them be still, never thinking that the hour may dawn when we would give our heart's blood to hear again the shout and receive the rapturous hug of the loviug little one whom it is so easy to repress. The Christmas hush Domes to every house from which an inmate has gone during the year that precedes the holiday. Baia it well that in this brief life, which must so often be accentuated by pain and distress, we should suffer the gloom to en- dure forever? Are there no rifts in the sky? Do we not believe in immortality? For the sake of those who have gone, are we to defraud those who remain? The little child who had early been taken hence should be lovingly born in mind, not drop- ped out of the household speech, not thought of as lost, but recalled as absent only, and the little children who stay in our care and claim our love should have their rights con- sidered. Ono of these rights is to hang up the Christmas stocking, sing the Christmas carol, enjoy the Christmas merrymaking even though there is a ceaseless sorrow and yearning in their parents' hearts. Sorrow should not make us selfish. Rath. er, It should combat our selfish tendencies, and help us to a generous outlook for the comfort of others. For always there are those whom we may help if we will. Our Christmas hush may be, the rest between the bars, making tbo music sweeter. Our Christmas hush may mean Christmas melody for those who know the bitter strife withwant and pen- ury. There are blessed mon and women realiz- ing his who endow a little cot in a hospit- al in memory of a dear child gone home, or who spend year by year the amount which would have been devoted to the clothing, food, and education of the darling they have lost to the caring for some other little living child --not their own, bet the ohild of the asylum, or of their loving adoption. This is pure religion and unde- filed, worthy of Him who came to the world to be the world's light. Christmas fn the Co untry. Not many weeks ago the Weekly took occasion to comment approvingly on a healthful fashion that is slowly growing up, the fashion of those who are fortunate enough to own country houses, of remain- ing in the country until the holidays. The idle rich who are not bookish, who have no mania for making collections, who do not go in for politics, who hire some one to count their interest for them and to keep their principal intact, are much better oaf in the country, where they can shoot, drive, ride, and feel the touch of nature, than they are in the 'ity, where the men are too rfond of the club lounging -room and its Ivarious temptations, and the women ars too prone to teacups and gossip. `"Now that the holidays ars approao hing ,A MUTUAL SURPRISE we hays angther evidence of tbo growing -, fashionable, Appreciation of country tousea cud rural Plealurea. In the interaisting moiety gip pf daily and weekly .pews-, papers we are; informed that many of the most fashionable of our :smartest, Ret are; Making up house parties for the Christmas holidays' which, are to be coleb'fated ab their country homes. M This oa; excellent �h# .i , R a nl . t ext lion oustom,'.gnd" the.. mere sepiolite observance thebetter for t o r. he low a ase ' 0 1 o it, oe, a e e o r t . Thr n P 4 no seal Christmas` . it ., in the city., A dinner party in. a luxurious heinia'heated with steam, or hot water, or hot air, withthe unnecessary and often stifling addition of a simulated or real. Are in: an open fireplace, does not recall the. traditions of this most beautiful of Christian feasts, it Is true that Mr. Thaokeray wrote some pleasant papers about boxing night andthe panto- mime%of the London tbreatres, but when he felt that his pen was forced to spend the holidays jji the metropolis, he gave it the comradeship of hearty boys, and thus brought nature as near as possible to his beloved pavements, Thu people who go to the country for the Christmas holidays will have such pleasures that aitizens who aro compelled to remain at home, mit;'y well envy them. First, there are the country houses, ao niuch mere.spa- oious, with so many more.amall and retiring nooks,so much more liberal and hospitabl e, with so many more opportunities for the • strict privacy that some inembors. of every house party are almost always Mira to desire. Then there ere the out,of-door ex- ercises from frosty morn till the red winter sunset makes a background for the brown hills and the black tree trunks and branches, the skating, the driving, the riding, splen- didly invigorating walks, and --.finally the more intimate acquaintance witi Nature that is acquired, sensibly by some, insensi- bly by the most unobserving. No one surely loves the country who does not love it in winter. Those who are fortunate to be of the country -house parties during the cominghol- idays will come back to their ordinary duties with more zest for work, and to their or- dinary pleasures with a stronger liking for what isbest among them. The Christmas Over flow. Many hundred years ago, when the Child who came to Bethlehem had left childhood, behind Him, and walked, a homeless way- farer, over the hills and plains of Palestine, He said to a group of listeners, as the cul- minating point in His discourse, " To the poor the gospel is preached." Gospel means good news. The poor in our Lord's day, as in our own, were famishing for good news, for the gospel of love, of kindness, of divine compassion. The Child who came to lay His head on the lap of poverty had ever a tender thought for the poor, and ono of His sweetest words, treasured by His followers in all ages, was, " Inasmuch as ye have done it [any kindness] to ofie of these little ones, ye have done it unto Me 1" Our joy at Christmas -tido can never rise to the overflow unless it is shared with our poorer neighbors and friends. Organized Charity is necessary and beneficiont, and part of our social duty is to support organize' ed charity with the open hand',rtnd the sys- tematic. gift. But at Christmas there is a mors personal, a more direct, intercourse with they loss fav- ored of our friends and .acquaintancoixw which ought not to be ignored. The children mia\ one of life's most ennobling opportunitie and privileges if they do not share their Christmas pleasures with less fortunate. young people. It is a good thing when the family as a unit is interested in some other family, so that there is always a Christmas overflow, which is not by way of charity or alms -giving, but the loving expression of good will to those who are neither pauper- ized nor patronized by the presents sent them. The timely gift of an outfit to the growing,boys whose legs and arms are al- ways too long for jackliti and "trousers, of a warm shawl to the mother whose old one is thin and shabby,of a load of wood or coal, of a Christmas turkey or a mince pie from your larder, may make the difference be- tween meagre and lavish Christmas cheer in the home of a humble friend. Then, too, at Christmas there are always those we ought to remember, including them in the merry -making and enfolding them in the holiday gladness. The little teacher who cannot afford to spend . her Christmas holidays, as she would dearly love to do, with the father and mother in the far -away home ; the clerk without home ties in the great city, his only claim upon friendliness the seat he pays .for in a cheap boardinghouse his bedroom a dingy little square three pairs up and back, looking out on a vista of roofs and yards ; the seamstress whose life is so bare of gayety, so bound by 'seam and gusset and band—cannot those share your Christmas ovenflow? An invitation to these, not merely to church sociable or other kindred gathering, but to your own hearth, a gift or token, personal and appropriate, will go far to giving you a share in the Lord's "Inas. much." Christmas Nonsense. . Farmer Blank didn't believe in Chrlstm < nonsense in his house—wasn't going to 1T his boys spend a cent for any such foolish- ness, not he But he did love those dear chubby little twins that made the sunshine of his house, only he loved his own bigoted opinions - more. Ile had gone to the city a few nights be- fore Christmas and his wife had asked hint to buy some toys for the twins and a few picture books and some oranges and candy to put in their stockings. Bat when ho turned his horses' heads homeward that night he had none of those things—he was- n't going to spoil his boys, it was not late, but dark when Farniei Blank drove into his yard and saw 4 bright light in the barn. Tim, the hired man thought Mr. Blank. But no, he looked through the window' and this is what he saw : Ono of the twins was representing the babe in the manger. He was lying in the hay, dressed in a white night-gown, his lovely eyes closed, his dear hands clasped and candles burning beside him their flame,', within eBay reach of the tons of hay that pressed down from above. The other twin was praying : " PIease, God, make papa believe in Santa Claus, so he will come hone Christmas like he does at other little boyo' houses—•Amen." The twins were awfully frightened when their father dashed into the barn, caught there up in his Arms and carried them straight into the house before he returned to put out those incend'•aty Dandles. The next day Farmer Blank went to town again, and he must have sten Santa ,haus J,nd made it all right with him for the stockings were filled to overflowing on Christmas morning. And the twins Wero tat happier than the big foolish maxi who folltregd tlh. ;*z about with tears in his eya+c and thartkad. God or the children wlltl:eut whom it ;a:ul l.. have been a sorry Chrfstreae.