AFamilv JSfewspaper, Devoted to Home Interests, Politics, Agriculture, Science, Art, Poetry, Etc.
WELLINGTON, O., THURSDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1879.
; PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY,
' ' BT
- Mfiee,West Bid of Public Suture.
(" oopy, one year ..CI BP
t me coot, six months..... 75
One copy, three month. . . GO
ttaotpajslvhthinthoiBii ............. 20)
Att 0FB flya
- am. avarm.- -" HMHw7-v-aMwv nuuw V".
OAtfVlai Vssfe 9nRttBE 3d flow
AirrfeMr' - -- " - am
W. r. BERRICK. Attorney mod Conuellor at Lav,
BenedlcTa Block. sd Boor. We'llng-on, 0.
K. Q. JOHN SOX. L, McLKAjr.
-ram WLm Aiw 11 j ana caenseuora as
Law. SlyrU. O. OSes IT a. 1, Master Block.
If otary- PaUlo.
J. W. HOUGHTO. Votary Ptbflc Offlc la
noughloB Drag Stars. West aide Public Square.
ARTHUR W. KICHOLS, Notary Public, Less Bad
CollsetloB A sent- Bssutess entrusted to my ear will
rwetve pranpt attention. With Johnson Mrl.nan.
Ko. a Maawy'a Block, X yrla, O.
- BR. J. BUST. H.wsopaUilst. nrlnwacs and
Ace, West aide lublte Ssnara.
aa. afc namAWAi. BvMvwn rnywoasi ua
Surgeaa. Ofllce at reaideace. West aide Booth Mala
Street. W&'Iuurtoa, O.
T. McCLARKX. 1L D.. Pbyslctaa aad Samoa
CaD from T1ags sad euaaliy will leteHs prompt at
tealloa. OSes la 91 story otO.lL Btroap'a aew
bonding, Boath side of Liberty Street. Weidngtoa, O
L. r. HOLBROOC Bargeoa Dentist. Offlc la
Flow, Food. Ete.
H. B. HAMLnr. Dealer ta Flow. Feed, Grata.
Beed, Bait. Etc Wsrehouse, West aide Railroad
Street, Wellington. O.
FIRST XATIOXAL BANK. WelllagtoB, O. Dora
Bay ead sella K. T.
, OOTeraaKBt Bonds. Lie S. B. Warner,
Flam dial. B. A. Borr. Cashier.
P. MWTCU, Pkotocrapser. eaUery la Ar-
Block. Wellington, U.
yomr printing to the Enterprise OSes. All
f prutlng doss aeatly and promptly. Offlc
Ida Fablle Bsanre, oyer Boughtoa's Drug
WELLS. Saddler aadHarara Baker. The best
iiijmia employed, and oaly the best stock ased.
eVTwark doas aader my isperTlatas. fcorth aid
W. B. ASBTOBD, Haaofactanr sad dealer la
Boota aad Shoe aad all kind sf Brat claaacmtom
wark. AJI work and matertola rally wanaated. Shop
(liBBlai iir I mi ill B TTi III a n
. v-v lamxaaoi AATwmv.
B. B. BOOOWIN. The lasBjaata Ateat, win ha
loaaAat Bk aflea la Basted Bros.' Boot and Boo
ho SO ha pHaard to as his oli caa-
laasdlai sayiBlaa; late Use. BUadard coat-
r sdjBstsd sad paid a his aseacy.
If yoa wast a trat-clam Shaya, Hair Cat. or Bhaai
poo. aaU atKobrnoa'aO. K. BobtIbc Balooa. Liberty
Street, A fan sasortmeat of Bair OUa, Ptmtade aad
Batr Bsaini alius. W also keep the best brand of
. T. ROBINSON.
bTUUXSTOX FLAimra MILL. lUanfaotora
saddealsn ta Bath. Doors, BUoda, Brackets, Bat-
Bosss. ScrsU Sawlnc tf atchlaa and Plaaias doas to
jrdsr. D. X Wadawonh. Prop. OOoe, aoar rall
osd Dtp a.
r. 'WADywDirra box. ruams urn. Bcroa
Bawlasv hfat.hlaa. Planlac. ate, don to order.
J.WBHIIB m UBOMT, USUI. DOmBICS, Afoors, BSSO
Bluda, Boaldlasa aad Dressed Lamber of an Borts.
Tard Bear Bamltaw Feed Btors. WelllBatoB. U.
J. H. WI0I1T. Dealer hi Clocks, Watches, Jewelry.
Blrrerwara. Gold Feas, Ete. Shop la Boachtoa'
. ICavebamt Talloxa.
V. a. noUXNBASB. Merchant Tailor, ta Taioa
Block. Boom a.
A. 8. FOWBRl Merchant Tailor. A fta asurt
assat of qothsBK Casalmsrsa, which wtll as amd
to order la !he lateat style snd at reasonable prices.
No. a. Benedict's Block.. a ssay.
BL V rCUXB. Dealer m Fresh aad Salt
BolOfBS aad Fork Baa ace. Hlxbest market prlaa
aaM for Bush. Shoan, Bog, Blaes, Ktc lUrkat,
ssalh aids Liberty Street.
W. D. BtOTB. A,
HXNEB BOX. Dealers in all kinds of
Cat Masts, fresh aad salt, of s batter Quality tbaa
has hmstofuisbaen said ta Wrlllastoa. Waamt
aewpataat do alar aad all to appUsnees for aotnea
Bistetass hsatnesa. Oar prices sra no hlatertbaa
acne aw haras for lafsrlor meats, Marks Xarth
sld. Liberty IukjC
WX. CUSHION BOX. Ltrsry snd Sals Stsbla.
Chotee taiaoat faralahad and charges rsasoaabla.
BoaUafcM Mechanic Street, one duor east of Ameri-
o. Bv. jwia Kajrr wanna.
FOOTS d VABBBB. Lrrery and Bale Btabts,
Tli si imm nisi sad tarn-oats at reason ihta rntea,
OSes Saath aids Liberty BtrasC .
J. P. FJPT. Basel and Grocer. Fresh Bread, Oaks
and Phi n amy. Alss a eholos snd eomptets as
anttmrat of Grooartea, Maasfawsiea sad sella,
winlrmli and retaa. Candle and Confnrtlonery.
; West aids Berth Main Street.
Qpri amd Toaavoeo.
. A. F. SmoCKhlaawfBOtarer. Wholsssla and Ba
tsfl sealer la Oasts, Tohacooa, etc A San assort
mest always kept ta stock at lowart csah prices.
BalrmoomBorU Bids of Liberty Street.
t ": r-BWsfn-s-
" " wnmsTT' . ,-a.m. sTAanv
XVKIarrr a) STABB Msaafaetsrrsg Cnralata,
and waolBBils sad Bonn daslira la' Drags, Modi
antes and a fan Mao of Botlons sad Draggtst San
Btta BorU atasLrscrtj Buset.
The ulster eorers maltitode of
last winter's suit.
TBS CHRISTMAS TREE.
While the winter snow are dressing
, All tbe trees in sptleas white.
And the twilight and the fire-light
Hound my ingle
Blend ana mingle.
And the night
Creepeth on atmee, there towem
On my hearth a tree whose flowers
Bach were born in elfin bowere
Far remored from mortal sight,
Tia tbe king of ail the cedare.
And its branches, green and fair.
With their weight of golden fruitage
Bend ana glisten.
And 1 tisten.
While tbe sir
Beetn with benison replete.
Which my lipa and heart repeat.
Borne on incense weird and sweet
Incense sweet beyond compare.
Myriad, of dainty baubles
Nestled in its branches are;
Banks of shining tinted tapers.
Kach one seeming
Idke tbe star
Which tnrongh all tbe toil and danger
Jjed the magi to the manger
Where was born tbe Boyal Stranger
From the heavenly court afar.
As tbe tapers, slowly burning,
- Met in ilsi i iiiaa ope by one,
And tbe troops of rosy children
rionna my ingle
Throng and mingle.
While the f nn
And tbe look of .lad inrnriM
Fade from oat their eated eyes.
Tell ns now," my Prinoeaa cries.
Little Princess Golden-Locks,
Throned npon my knee sgain.
Wait, to bear the old, old story.
Which bath nerer
Ended been: "
rTow tbe Eastern sage bring
Tressnrea to toe Peasant King, r
And the boats of heaven sing.
" Peaoe on earth, good-will to mea.'
Tbe earth is as bleak and deserted.
So eold the winds blow.
That no bad or no blossom will venture
To peep from below;
But. longing for springtime, they nestle -
Aeep anaer toe snow.
And now. in this dreary December,
urn giaa nearte are rain
To see if earth comes not to help as;
We seek all in vain;
Not the tiniest blossom ia coming
3.111 spring Dreatne again.
Where love takes, let love give, and so doubt not;
tjsve counts oat tne wui.
And the heart has its flowers of devotion.
No winters can chill:
They who eared for " good will " that firat Chriat-
for it still.
WHAT SASTA CLAC8 SENT.
Thb week before Christmas was
dreadful dreary. In tbe first place, fa
ther was away. He bad been gone al
most a month, in search of work, and
we were expecting him home every day.
Ia the next place, the wood was most
gone, and we didn't dare to keep a very
good fire. And it always seems dreary
in cold, snowy weather, nnless yon have
a good, roaring fire, I think, especially
in a dug-out.
it was all on account ol tne irrasa hop
pers that we had to spend our second
winter in the dag-out. We had been
brave and patient father said so the
first winter. Bnt when the erasshop-
pers came and ate up all oar crop, and
we had to give np the hope of a house
for that whole year, we almost wished
we were baaar in Vermont, Then, in
the third place, and lastly, as the min
ister says, we had nothing left to eat
bat pumpkim. And pumpkin, though
it's very nice for pies, when yoa have
milk and eggs, and pretty good (at
least better than nothing) lor sauce,
when yoa haven't got any better, and
there is nothing left bnt the Johnny
cake isn't so very good for steady eat
ing. And there wasn't so very much of
it either: and if that should fail before
Bat mother wouldn't be gloomy.
Eat all You want of it, I dare say
father will come before it ia gone," she
said. "It's lucky I dried so much."
And lnckv the horrera didn't like
pumpkins," said my eider brother. Bob,
ing to imitate her cheerful tones.
Sake some for supper, mother. I be
lieve I like it best baked."
"Yes. Til bake it for supper: and
you and Lizzie shall have all the milk
to eat with it, We who are well can
do without milk. Can't we children""
and she looked round so brave and
cheerful at me and Tern and Johnny
that we were just aa willing as could
be to give up our share "ol the milk,
now that poor Bess, who had nothinir
but coarse, dry hay and water, could
only give a pint twice a day.
bo Bob and Lizzie bad all the milk
that night, and we had only a little salt
on oar pumpkin; because Liasie wasn't
much more than a baby, and Bob was
sick ever since he broke his leg at the
raising. Bob tried to have mother take
some of his milk; but she wouldn't.
Nobody complained not a word we
should have been ashamed to; only I
crumbled some, to old Bess, the cow.
you know, when I was pulling down
nay for her. I suppose I'm not hardly
as brave as tne rest of 'em. At any
rate, I often grumble to Bess, when
things are hard; and I told her. that
time, that there was no fun at all in liv
ing on pumpkin in a miserable dug-oat,
and I wasn't going to stand it, At
least, I wouldn't, if I had any boots to
get away in. And I tried hard to think
what I could do.
But I didn't see that there was any
thing. The neighbors were a good way
off. and as poor as we were. All but
old Mother Cripsey, and she was too
cross and too stingy to live. No use to
go near her.
But when I went in, and was crouoh
ing down before the fire to get my
fingers warm, mother said:
William, I think somebody ought
to go over and see if Mother Cripsey
needs anything this cold weather. I
know it isn't pleasrnt for yoa to go
there; but it would ease my mind to
know she wasn't freezing or starving."
' How can I go, mother, with no
boots but these P and I held up my
right foot. There was a strip of flannel
tied around it, to keep the sole from
flapping back and forth every time I
stepped, and to cover a big hole that
let the snow in.
' You might wear Bob's best one.
perhaps. It is better than that. Can't
m "Certainly," said Bob, without raising
nia neaa or loOKing at me. BOD couldn t
help being gloomy, because he was
sick, and pumpkin didn't agree with
him; but he didn't like to have ua take
any notice of it, so we didn't.
I said: "Well, I s' posed I could
go. The only thanks I should
get would "be to get my - head
snapped off and get called a beg
gar, and asked what I expected to
get by coming." But L was tired of
being cooped up at home; and should
be glad of a walk, if I could only have
something to walk ia. , So Bob let me
have his boot, and I started. It was
about half a mile and off the road: so I
had to make my own path, and the
snow was pretty deep. But the sun
shone bright and I rather liked tbe fun
of breaking a track. ' I saw a smoke in
Mother Cripsey's chimney, as I came
near; so I knew she was all right. Yoa
see it wasn't as if she had been poor,
for she was the richest one for miles
around; only she was most too stingy
to keep herself alive. She out her own
wood and carried her own grain to mill.
and there was nothing to be afraid of;
only, as she would live there all alone,
so far from neighbors, mother thought
she might fall sick, or get hurt, or
something, and nobody find it out till
she suffered- So we had to go over
once in a whHav. Baa all we got in re
turn was hard words and sneers.
Mother often went herself, in pleasant
weather. I guess she was rather pleas
anter to her. At any rate, mother
didn't seem to think her a bad sort of a
woman. But, then, mother always
thinks better of folks than they de
I broke a path up to the door, and
there- she was. An old - black hood
pulled down over her eyes,' and a night
cap ruffle, and some Bind ox yenow
grsy bcur sticking out uoder the eetge
of it, round her red. bony face, redder
and bonier than ever. Her short striped
petticoat Came down just below the top
of a pair of men's boots. She looked
like a Jezebel, or a Witch of En dor,
more than, like a woman. - But I went
up to her, and took off my hat, and
said ' Good-morning," as polite as you
please. I like to be rather politer than
common to her; it makes her so scorn
ful. "Well! what do you want o' me?
S'pos'n you air all out o' breadstuff!"
she began. .
"I didn't "say we were all out.
ma'am!" I interrupted her, though that
wasn't polite, I know. I had to speak
Eretty loud and fast, or she wouldn't
ave stopped to listen to me. " I came
because mother was afraid you might
need somebody to cut wood or some
thing, now that the snow is so deep.
bhe looked sharp at me while 1 said so
much; but then she turned back to the
wood pile and began to chop in a way
that made the chips fly, I tell you. I
suppose that was to show me how easy
she could cut her wood herself. After
she had worked that way awhile she
turned round and put down her ax and
said: " Come in, will ye?" So 1 went
in and sat down bv the fire.
"I s'oose ver mar thouerht I had
hands like hern, that's just ht for knit
tin and darnin' socks, and wanted a
man to do such dreadful hard work as
cuttin wood enough to keep my own
fire agoin. So she sent you along,
It's no use to remember and repeat
all the hard words Mother Cripsey said
to me that day. She was more insult
ing than ever, accusing me 01 every
kind of a mean motive in coming to in
quire for her. I bad a great mind to
tell her just what I thought of her; and
1 would but for the thought of how
mother would feel if I got downright
angry and sauced a gray-headed old
woman as, Ide think, she deserved.
But I held in my temper and just de
nied all her shameful charges. I swal
lowed all the hard words I could well
stand, and then took rather a hasty
leave and started for home.
On the way. as . 1 climbed over a
fence. I saw something like feathers
sticking out of the snow. I went for
it, and pulled out a quail, that had been
buried and frozen sun.
"That's for Bob's dinner!" I said.
with joy, and I thrust my hand down
into the snow to hunt for more. "Here s
for Lizzie!" I said as I pulled out
another. And down I dived again.
" Here's for mother! And here's for
Tom and Johnny!" As three more
came to the surface in quick succession.
And here's for me!" 1 almost
screamed, as a rather anxious search
brought np another. I still dug about
in the snow, and pretty soon I found
one more, "tor lather, surely: 1
Then I could find no more, and sat
down to rub my aching fingers. When
I had got them warm, I pulled a bit of
board from the fence and dug the snow
bank all over thoroughly, and found
" A dinner fit for a king! A dinner
fit for-a king!" I cried aloud, as I
looked at the plump beauties lying be
fore me. I found a bit of string in my
pockets, and tied them all together and
slang them over my shoulder,
Didn't mother's eyes shine, when I
came into the house with those quails!
That was "a dinner as was a dinner,"
as Bob said. - Of course, we had ' to go
back to pumpkin again next day.
Nevertheless, the chanee was 'delight
ful and made the week a good deal less
Christmas uay was Saturday, yon
Thursday morning mother said: ." It
looks like more snow. I hope father
will get here before it storms again."
She was a little pale that morning
poor mother! though she spoke just as
cheerful as ever. I knew and Bob
knew the pumpkin wouldn't last till
Christmas Eve. But nobody talked
It be ran to snow at niehtfall. I had
out up the last stick of wood, and it
f, t . l ,i r , m
was puea np insiae tne u replace, w e
had a stove in front of the fireplace,
and the pipe ran into the rode stone
It snowed all night, l suppose. When
we waked in the morning no light came
in at the little square window. I knew
it was morning, because the clock
struck eight just after I waked. We
had got in the way of sleeping very late
mornings to save the fire. I could just
see where the window was. I called to
mother. ; - .
In the day-time there was but one
room in the dug-out; but at night a cur
tain was drawn across one end, that
divided off a corner that -we called
mother's bed-room. '
She answered: .."Yes, William. I'm
" We're snowed in, I guess, mother."
"It looks like it," she said. "Build
the fire and I will come out directly."
I got up and dressed myself. Bob
waked while I was dressing, and asked
me what I was gnttlng upTn the night
fcnv, I told him it was morning, but we
were snowed in. oo no go up, too.
I went to the door, to see if I could
open it. It opened easy enough; but a
bank: ol snow was au there was to be
seen. 1 I believe I turned white.' I know
I shook as people do with the mnis.
Ten sticks of wood tor fuel, one half a
candle for light, and about pumpkin
enough for two meals. These were our
resources; and we were snowed in.
Mother came out. She was paler than
yesterday, but calm and brave as ever.
"Let s nave anre, boys, quickiy,and
we will nave breakfast soon. 1 feel
sure father will come to-day."
She lighted our one piece of candle.
1 couldn't speak. There was a great
lump in my throat. My shaking hands
would hardly lay the sticks for the fire.
Mother put the pumpkin on to warm.
It was all cooked now. We had only
to warm it up. Then she brought out
a little handful of cloves, that she said
she had found hidden away in one of
her trunks. She put them on the table
in a salt-dish. "May be somebody
will like them for a relish." said she,
smiling. I wished she wouldn't smile.
After breakfast she read the Bible
rather longer than usual. Those
psalms "The Lord is my Shepherd,"
and "1 will lift up mine eyes unto the
hills from whence cometh my help"
and something else, I believe; but. I
can't remember what. After prayers
Tom and 1 washed the dishes, as we
often did, while she put the room in or
der. When all was done, she put oat
the light. " I can knit as well in the
dark," she said; " and I am going to
tell you a story, so you will not care."
She told us a great many stories that
1 didn't see why I couldn't be as
brave as Tom. He told jokes and rid
dles, and helped ever so much to keep
the little ones amused. But my heart
was like a lamp of lead, and I couldi't4
seem to do or say a thing to keep the
rest brightened up or cheer poor moth
er. YetTom knew how bad things were.
just as well as I did. Bob kept his face
liiuuuu n, goou UBtti oi tne uuie wueu
there was a light; but when he did
show it he looked as if the last day was
come. But then Bob was sick and I
wasn't. Poor Bess lowed for her food
and water. We were" sorry for her; but
couldn't help her. We lighted the can
dle again at dinner. We didn't have
very good appetites. There was enough
pumpkin left, so Lizzie had her supper.
She went to sleep early, in my lap; it
was so still. The stillness was most as
bad as the darkness.
. . And now it was Christmas Eve. But
nobody said anything about hanging up
stockings. The little ones had not been
reminded that to-night was the time for
that; and the older ones were thinking
too much about fire, and food, and to
morrow, even to speak of it.
"Christmas will bring father, I am
sure, said mother, after Lizzie was
laid in bed. " And now hadn't my lit
tle Johnnie better be undressed? Morn
ing will seem to come sooner If he shuts
his eyes early."
"Me wants my supper first," said
The pumpkin is all gone. But, if
Johnnie is brave and patient, I think
God will send him some breakfast."
Does He know the pumpkin is all
goner ' said Johnnie, with a quivering
" Yes. I told Him. He will take
care that we have some breakfast. I
asked Him to," said mother, cheerfully
and confidently. I wondered if she
really felt so sure. I didn't.
"But the snow is all up over the
door, so nobody can't get in," Johnnie
God can find a man who can shovel
away tbe snow. I guess He will send
papa home to do it," mother said.
1 m awful hungry l" said Johnnie.
mournfully. And then, in a quick,
glad tone: " O! 1 shouldn't wonder if
He sent some bread! Ma, did you ask
for pumpkin or for bread?"
" or bread, dear, l think it will be
.bread." . ,
" O! then I'll go to bed quick."
He submitted to be undressed, and
when his head was on the pillow he
squeezed his eyelids close together, de
termined to sleep, that morning might
come sooner. He had to speak once
more. " Butter on it! Did you ask for
butter on it, map"
" I asked for some meat. A piece of
meat would be good with bread.
Wouldn't it, Johnnie?"
" Yes; but I'd ha' asked for butter,
loo,'" said Johnnie, and subsided again.
"We had better go to bed before
the room gets cold' mother said, as
we sat crouching around the few glow
ing coals that the last stick of wood had
"Mother, how can you be so brave
and quiet?" said Bob, bitterly, with a
sound that was almost like a sob.
"Hush, dear! Be brave and quiet
yourself a little longer. God hasn't
forgotton us. Are you so very hun
gry?" " It isn't that. I've often been hun
grier when I've been eff in the woods
on a tramp. I don't seem to feel any
appetite; but to-morrow "
" 'Take no thought for the morrow.
Let us.at least, try to obey that pre
cept for this one night, Think! It is
the night when the blessed Christ-child
came down from Heaven. He gave us
Himself. How shall He not also free
ly give us all things?' Let us not
doubt Him on His birthnight. Go to
your bed with a quiet heart, as I shall
go to mine. There is a glad Christmas
in store for us yet." So we went to
bed if not with quiet hearts, at least
with a glimmer of hope, awakened by
mother s strong faith. But we did not
The clock struck eight There was a
sound on the roof. We started up to
listen. Yes, surely there was some one
stepping above our heads. "It's
fatherP' was our glad cry. We were
out of bed in an instant, and beside the
old chimney, which was the only outlet
for our voices.
" Father! Father! Are you thereP'
we called. But no voice answered.
Instead, there was a queer sound, as of
something rubbing and shuttling down
the chimney. ;
"Santa Clans, for certain!" said
Well, it seemed as if it was. First
there came a long, narrow bag.covered
with soot and ashes. It fell at our feet;
but before we could pick it up a plump
round package followed it and bounced
into the middle of the floor. A second,
like it, rolled along after, undoing it
self and showing a loaf of brown bread.
Then came a shapeless paokage, with a
bone sticking out, which Bob caught
at, exclaiming, joyfully: " Dried beef.
We kept calling. "Father! Why
don't you speak, father?" at intervals;
but got no answer. Bnt we were sure
it was he, and with joyous laughter wel
comed the bundles as theycame down
the chimney. A few potatoes, a few
turnips, a little soft clean package of
tea, and then the shower of good things
But there was no voice yet, and the
sound of retiring footsteps left us look
ing in each other's faces in amazement.
"It isn't father, after all!" said
mother, with a good deal of disap
pointment in her tones. " He would
never have gone oft so, without speak
ing a word."
' We fell to eating, with a keen relish.
Slices of brown bread and dried beef
disappeared rapidly. Johnnie was
awakened to have his share; and we
would have waked Lizzie, too, but
mother said " No."
" Too bad. The last spark of fire is
out, or you should have a cup of tea.
Mamma," I said.
"Never mind! This is an earnest of
better things. We shall have wood to
morrow. Father will come. Yoa will
see. How thankful I am for this sup
ply. And who could have brought it?"
She said these last words over again
and airain. as did we all. I do think I,
for one. was really thankful to God
At last we got to bed again sooner
than we should, I suppose; but the cold
drove us there. But sleep did not come
to me soon. Wonder ana joy kept me
awake. Was there really a Santa Claus,
then? I, a boy fourteen years old, could
hardly help believing it. We had not a
neighbor, that I eould think of, who
was rich enough to give us such a
bountiful Christmas present.
Father came early next day. bringing
money that he had earned, and more
a letter from grandma, enclosing a
check for a hundred dollars. She said
it was her Christmas present, and an
other like it should come in the spring.
to help build that house. She had had
a windfall, and we should enjoy our
share of it at once. It was a joyful
- Christmas. Mother was right,- as she
generally is. Our crops were good this
year, and our Christmas of the follow
ing year did not find us in a due-out.
Mother found oat afterward that it
was really Mother Cripsey herself, and
nobody else, that put those things down
our chimney Christmas Eve. She never
would have done such a thing for any
body but mother, though, 1 am sure.
She thinks there is nobody like our
mother. And l guess 1 think so, too.
Joy Allison, in N. T. Independent.
How Families Endure in Yerment,
Some two years ago a physician in
town was called to visit a patient living
out of the village. He drove out, and
as he was hitching his horse the door
opened and a young woman with a
child in her arms came out. They
greeted each other, and she said, " O,
you are the doctor come to see grand
mother. She's pretty sick. You'll find
her in the house.' He went in and
found a woman about forty, who said,
' You will find grandmother in that
way." In the room to which he was
directed be found an aged, white-haired
lady lying on the bed. She was quite
deaf, and did not notice hU approach
until he sat down and began to feel ber
pulse. She turned and said, ' O, you
are the doctor. I am not sick. It is
mother you want to see. Yoa will find
her in the next room." So into the
next room he passed, and at last was
in the presence of his patient whose
he had encountered. He found her
so reduced by disease and old age she
was ninety-seven years old that he saw
no chance of her living more than a
week. He told the family so, but at
their request he left medicines and di
rections. Some three weeks after he
was driving by and saw an old 1 ady
picking up chips. He pulled up his
horse, intending to ask when his pa
tient had died, when she looked up and
said: " O, you are the doctor who came
to see me when I was so sick." She
is still living as ' chipper an old lady
of ninety-nine as voa will often see."
Windsor (VL) Argus.
England is one vast show town. Ev
erything is on exhibition at from a six
pence to a shilling. If one desires to
visit the shrines, either of royalty or
literature, he must weep tears, silver
tears, in every instance. Shakespeare's
grave, a sixpence; Shakespeare's chair,
a shilling; dead Kings ana Queens, one
shilling; jewels of a live ene, two
shillings, and so on. Your correspond
ent has been sweating sixpences and
shillings ever since landing on the soil,
and is likely to till he leaves it; but,
after all, there is nothing like what is
to be seen here in ail the world, and if
the charges could only be put into one
grand total the traveler would think it
cheap. It is the petty annoyance of
drawing the purse at every turn,- and
the constant demand for a fee that, like
a nail in the shoe, keeps one in irrita
tion. For instance, at the theater, the
American, accustomed to pay for his
seat and have the whole paying business
over, is put quite out of conceit before
the performance begins by the little an
noyances to which he is subjected. He
pays 10s., $2.50, for his seat in advance,
say on the morning of the performance,
and must pay an extra for " booking."
When he arrives at the theater he finds
his ladies must remove their bonnets.
These are to be stored in the cloak
room, 6d. each; then a programme, 4d.
each; and a fee for the commissaire who
closes his cab door as he drives away.
As a six-pence is twelve cents, all this
amounts to a very pretty sum before he
gets through his amusement (?), espe
cially if his party is of any considerable
size; but then it has always been the
custom, and it is probable it always
will be. What was good enough for
their great-grandfathers is quite good
enough for the present generation."
London Cor. Boston Traveller.
Married With Rifle in Hand.
The news of the curious sequel of a
love affair has just reached us from
Fort Townsend. A certain young man
fell in love with a beautiful young lady
residing near Port Townsend. His pas
sion being reciprocated, marriage was
proposed, but the young lady's parents
would have none of it. The father and
a belligerent uncle threatened to do the
Joung "Romeo" serious personal in
ury in case his attentions were contin
ued, and forbade him ever again enter
ing the premises, and the young lady
is represented as having been bitterly
persecuted on account of her refusal to
discountenance the discarded suitor.
The young man becoming aware of this
fact, determined to marry at once. Ac
cordingly, procuring a license and the
services of the necessarily constituted
authority, and withal a good Winches
ter rifle, he repaired to the abode of the
young woman's parents. Encounter
ing the father and: the irate ancle in the
yard, he bade them " hands off," de
claring that they had threatened to do
him personal injury, and that in the
eyes of the law he would be justified in
doing serious execution with his rifle
in caso they attempted to execute it,
and right there, before the gaze of the
two astonished belligerents, with one
eye fixed on them, the other on the fair
one by his side, and with one hand
clutching his rifle, and the other grasp
ing that of his affianced, the nuptial
knot was tied, and the happy couple
departed. Portland (Oregon) Bee.
Yocko Seward placed a pistol at his
head in the presence of the girl who
had rejected his snit at Houston,
Minn., and said he was going to com
mit suicide. He counted V One, two"
.nd she covered her eyes Trith her
nands. "Look at me," he said; she
obeyed "three!" and into his brain
went the fatal bullet.
Thb amount of money a man leaves
is the kind of a funeral pile his relatives
take the most interest in. Keokak Oat
How did they keep bis birthday then,
1 be little fair Christ, so long ago?
O many there were to be boosed and fed.
And there was no place in tbe inn. they said,
tto into the manger the Chnat mnst go.
To lodge with the cattle and not with men.
The ox and the ass they munched their bay,
Xhey munched and they al umbered, wonder
And ont in the midnight cold and blue
Tbe shepherds slept and the sheep slept too.
Till tbe angels' song and the bright star ray
Guided the wise men to tbe spot.
But only tbe wise men knelt and praised.
And only the shepherds came to see;
And the rest of the world cared not at all
For the little Christ in tbe ozen'a stall.
And we are angry and amaaed
That such a dull hard thing should be!
How do we keep his birthday now?
We ring tbe bells and we raise the strain.
We hang up garlands everywhere
And,bf the taper, twinkle fair, . -
Aad feast and frolic and then we go
Back to the same old lives again.
Are we no better, then, than they
Who failed the new-bom Christ to see?
To them a helpless babe to ua
He shines a bavior glorious.
Our Lord and Friend and all ret we
Are half asleep thia Christmas day.
Hiua Cooiidgt, ta Christian Union.
CHBISTXAS AT NUMBER ONE
Most certainly, Number One.Crawlin
Place, was a dingy abode at any time,
but as Carol came in sight of it, one
bright afternoon a few days before
Christmas, with his mind fall of much
pleasanter places, he gave a little sigh
of disapproval, and muttered, not
gloomily, but honestly, as if he had
been called upon suddenly to compare
it candidly with brighter places he had
' It looks meaner than ever P'
A ray from the sun as he looked at
No. 1, seemed to contradict him, for it
fell brightly upon a window in the
fourth story and lighted it up wonder
fully; or was it the bright, deep-set
eyes of old Aunt Kizzy, as she looked
down and nodded cheerfully? How
ever that may be, little Carol forgot
that Crawlin Place was dingy as he
darted up the old stairs. The faded
face of Aunt Kizzy, her bright eyes and
worn wig, were a part of his home; and
when Christmas is near, home is dearer
than any other place in the world, if it
is dingy. Besides, Carol but let him
tell his own secrets.
"Darn up the old stocking I saw
dangling on the line, Aunt Kizzy," he
cried, as he came breathlessly np to the
window where the old lady sat.
"I'll make it strong enough to hold
up two cents' worth of snuff," she said,
"1 feel sure this will be a lucky
Christmas," said CaroL " I saw three
stars shoot last night a star apiece for
us. Aunt Kizzy. Now quick before
mother comes count that, please!"
" Massy! massy! Where did you get
it, child?" as the coppers and bits of
silver fell into her lap. "You aint "
" All right. Aunt Kizzy. Good, hon
est money. For mother's present. You
go buy it, for I must get more or there
can't be any snuff."
She caught him by his worn jacket
as he was flying past the door, and sat
him down in the old rocking-chair.
" Sit there, sir, and tell me where
yon got this money! A Christmas
present ought to be bought with money
that don't need washing."
"I won't tell."
Aunt Kizzy' s back became very still
and she handed him back the money.
" It's all right,'' he said, impatient
ly, waving away her extended hand.
" But if you must know," dropping his
voice to a mysterious whisper, " i sang
"Where, child P
"In the street."
" Like a beggarP'
" No, not quite. I did not ask for
money; they gave it to me."
"What did you sing, yoa scamp,
you?" said Aunt Kizzy, forgetting her
point in her curiosity.
" I sanz every song I knew even the
one yon sang to me the other night."
Where r Anywnere aoouc nerer"
" No; away up-town where the big
" Don't you do it again."
" I have promised Santa Clans two
cents' worth of snufi for an old lady
who hangs np black: stocKings.''
"She can't have it."
" She must."
Aunt Kizzv dropped the money slow
ly, piece by piece, into her lap.
"Seventy cents, uarei!"
"Get anything you feel sure she'll
like," he whispered in her ear, and
" Seventy cents! well, wen, weii:
may be you're not ashamed of your want
o' faith, old Kizzy Hopkins! No good
comes o' twitting, so I'll only say,
faith's a good thing always. Now step
along, and see what you can buy. sev
enty cents! And ten away down in
your pocket for Attn, that he couldn't
see. No, yoa can't get much for ten
cents, but start out and do your best
Straighten your wig, old Kizzy; count
up your change and don't go out with
envious feelings in your heart because
other old women carry heavier purses!
Seventy cents and ten is eighty; eighty
cents ain't to be sneezed at Didn't
you expect to have to start out with
only ten? You know you did! Then
This remark was evidently addressed
to the faded, patient face that looked
out at her from the smalMooking-glass.
But Carol's mother heard.
" Don't dare find fault with that
woman in the glass P said she, coming
in and smoothing the rusty black rib
bon on the worn-out bonnet
"She's orful ungrateful, Car line.
Instead of bein' thankful for a bonnet
to cover her old wig, she's wishing for
a veil to hide her old bonnet"
"The more people have the more
they want Aunt Kizzy. But where are
"After unnsimas presents,-- saiu
Aunt Kizzy, proudly. "Good-byeP
'There is a dear, strong heart under
that old shawl," said Caroline, as Aunt
Kizzv turned the dismal corner.
" Only ten cents for both of 'em,"
muttered the old woman, as she left the
narrow street " That boy is off trying
to get something for me. Aint you
ashamed of yourself, Kizzy HP 'she con
tinued, falling into her favorite mode
of addressing herself, which she called
giving a dose to her pride. " Think of
the times you might have earned a lit
tle, if you hadn't been so proud!"
"I would do any thing now," she
forced her pride to say.
No doubt you would," she returned
severely. "Come in at the'leventh
hour and take what you could find."
" I would do anything in the world
that I could that was honest" said her
pride, humbled now te the very dust of
" Would you sing for money r
Aunt Kizzy said this abruptly, al
most triumphantly, as,if she had proved
her pride now, and found it nothing
but a vain boaster. A little red spot
was burning in each faded cheek.
She had left Crawlin Place far be
hind her. The houses she now saw
were beginning to wear a very well-to-do
look. On she walked until the
streets grew wide and the houses very
What a contrast to Crawlin Place!
" If you get envious, back you'll go.
Kizzy H., without a chance for present
This was probably addressed to an
other weak spot in ' poor Aunt Kizzy's
She went on without an idea where
to stop. A house with the, curtains up
attracted her attention.
Massy!" she exclaimed, as she
looked in the window. " They must
be made of gold and silver in there! '
- She w aimed op fte stepa aad Mag the
" If you please, miss," she began, as
the door opened. -
"Back gate for beggars,' said the
With a choking feeling in her throat
Aunt Kizzy stood staring at the closed
" You can't stare money enough out
of a shut door to fill a stocking, unless
a miracle takes place, Kizzy H," she
said cheerfully, as she went down the
House after house was passed before
another struck her fancy.
" Don't look quite so grand as
t'other," she said, as she looked in at a
window. There's a picter o' Christ
blessing little children. It makes me feel
orful old. Dear little creeters! 1 don't
believe the grand brass images and
flumjacks have pushed everything good
out of this place."
And she went up the high steps. As
her hand touched the bell, a light step
was heard behind her, and a pleasant
voice said: " Whom did yoa wish to
" I came," Aunt Kizzy's voice was
a little unsteady, "1 I came to ask
if any of the ladies here would would
like to hear a little old-fashioned sing
ing." "I certainly should," said the young
lady, pleasantly; " and 1 m sure grand
" Open your eyes and take in all the
style, old Kiz, to tell Car' line," said
the old woman to herself, as they
walked np the broad handsome stairs,
but when she found herself actually
standing before a sofa, where lay a
proud-looking old lady, she forgot
' Car' line," and almost her errand.
She is going to sing us some old-
fashioned music," explained the young
lady, as her grandmother - stared at
Aunt Kizzy closed her old hands nerv
ously together, but though she
pressed them very hard, no song came
to her mind. What wonld they think
of her! Her breath came in little gasps.
and the red spots brightened in her
" Sit down and rest yourself a little
while,' said the young lady, kindly.
" I brought you ap too many stairs for
yoa to sing right away.
"There wasn't so many stairs, miss,
as there's been years since I sung afore
folks," said Aunt Kizzy, then adding
mentally, "Don't act like a fool if
you've got common sense, Kizzy H.P'
She stood respectfully before them,
and in a voice, not by any mease to be
despised, sang a simple ballad of ye
Can you sing another?' asked
the young lady, as the last note died
'I don't wish another yet" said
her kTandmother. ' I avant the same
Aunt Kizzy's heart beat joyfully. She
had forgotten money; there was happi
ness in the thought rf being able to
give pleasure. She sang until her old
voice sounded weary, and they declared
she should sing no more. The young
ladygave her a dollar.
Too muchr," said Aunt Kizzy, firmly.
" I sang tetf'songs, and two cents apiece
is high enough to reckon 'em." .
A dollar for a good concert is cheap
enough, and I have not enjoyed one so
much in many a day, madam."
If you insist on it I can't help it"
said Aunt Kizzy, with shining eyes, as
she thought of Carol's stocking.
" I do not consider that I half pay
for mypleasure," said theyoang lady's
grandmother, as with old-school
dignity she placed five dollars in Aunt
I couldn't Bleep to-night if I took
that!" she cried. "Don't make me
think I'm dreaming now, and '11 wake
np without a cent for Carol's stockin'."
She held out the money to the young
lady, who took it saying: ,
" You shall not be overpaid, but let
me give yoa a muff; your hands will be
cold going home. This is an old one,
but it is warm, and here are some
pieces of sQk for a new lining."
" Tell me all about itP' cried Carol,
on Christmas morning as he stood with
a fall stocking by the fire-place in the
little sitting room on the fourth story
of Number One, Crawlin Place.
'Sit right there Aunt Kizzy, till you
tell me where you got so much money.
A Christmas present ought to be
bought with money that don't need
" Well," in a whisper, if yon must
know, boy, I sang for it."
Sang for it!" Carol s surprise was
as genuine as Aunt Kizzy's had been.
but he recovered himself ana said:
" Like a beggar?"
No," said Aunt Kizzy demurely.
I didn't ask for money; they gave it
to me without"
" Dear Aunt Kizzy, don t you call this
a lucky Christmas?" said Carol, as he
pulled on new boots, while Aunt Kizzy,
with a new bonnet on, took snuff ex
travagantly, and his mother stood with!
, , I 1 . . up I
ner nanus in tne iuuu.
"Nothin' to do with luck," said
Aunt Kizzy. " We worked for some
thing and t aint sense to expect when
yoa work for something that you'll get
n-othin'." With a merry jerk she
palled out a pair of warm gloves from
the long black stocking. u&st your
bread upon the waters, old Kizzy H.
Give Car line an old mutt, and get new
gloves from Santa ClausP '
l snail not aiiow yoa to give me
this muff." said Car'line. "It is just
what you have wanted for so long; and
a new lining win mate it just as gooa
" Massy, Car'line! the silk for it is
in my pocket Plenty of it you see."
As she unronea it, snegaspea; varoi,
hand me tho campfire bottle!" for
carefully folded in the little bundle of
pieces, lay the rejected five-dollar bill.
It must be a mistake," said Carol's
Of course I shall take it back, Car -
If it makes you feel so sick Aunt
Kizzy II., I will take it and you shall
never see it again," said Carol, kindly.
" It wasn't a mistake, though, Car'
What makes yoa think soP
Well, I tell you how it was; I did
something for for two ladies away up
town, and tbey offered me that bill, and
I wouldn't lay a finger to it and that
pretty creeter put it in the. silk; but I'll
take it back, I'll take it ( jk!" . .
Come now. Aunt ji-izzy," said
Carol, laughing, bet you can't tell
what street it was."
' Hey?" said the old woman with a
blank expression on her pale face.
Massy, if I know any more than a old
woman led by a dog!"
Carol's mother touched Aunt Kizzy's
" Tell me. Aunt, how you earned the
" I did what Carol did."
" What did ho doP
"There's your stockin' just burstin'
to see you, Car'line.-. Why don't you
go 'tend to it?"
" You care more for the stocking
than for me, Aunt Kizzy, for I am in
almost as sad a state."
Would you tell, Carol?"
He grinned and said:
" Make her tell first how she got
I'd just as soon tell,' said his
mother. " I wish I had a chance every
day. sang for U."
For a full minute. Aunt Kizzy and
Carol stared at each other, and then
exclaimed as if they had but one mind
between them: "Like a beggar?"
"O no," said Caroline, laughing.
" I didn't ask for anything, but they
ave me something: I sang last Sun
ay in church."
"Carol," whispered Aunt Kizzy, is
my head on?"
" Looks to be. Is mineP'
You have something on that looks
like a head. . Is my wig straight?"
"Straight as usual, Miss Hopkins.
"'Pears to have the right pitch, boy,
so let's tune up. Here's faith for the
future forever P and three grateful
voices rang out clearly .with a song of
praise to Him, who, in sending His
Christmas blessings down, forget not
even so humble a spot as Number One,
Crawlin Place. Sargent Flint, in St.
Nicholas or December.
Telephones and Talking Fish.
That the telephone would eventually
prove a source not only of great grati
fication but of valuable instruction no
body ever doubted. It has, however,
remained for some thoughtful scientific
gentlemen to utilize it in a way which
will commend itself to all who lovingly
observe nature. One of these, anxious
to know how far the animal world as
similated itself to our own, lately intro
duced a telephone into some water
which contained a fish. To his aston
ishment he found that the creature,
alone and unable to - converse with any
thins else, was actually talking to itself.
Mr. S. E. Peal now comes forward, and,
in a letter to a scientific contemporary,
confirms this assertion. He, too, has
been listening, and he finds that the
large Mahsir" Barbes Maorocephalus
converse with a peculiar " cluck" or
persuasive sound, which may be heard
as far as forty feet from the water. He
has also discovered that a large bivalve
exists in some parts of Eastern Assam
which actually " sings loudly in con
cert" After this it would be interest
ing to know what it is that the pike
says to the roach before swallowing it
If we are expert enough to read ciphers
surely we might without great difficulty
learn the language of the jack. London
Stumbling; Into a Marriage.
A comely young maiden, fresh from
the shores of Old England, arrived in
this city on her way West to join her
brother, who lives in a small town in
Ohio. When she arrived here she con
cluded to stop over one train and visit
her cousin, who is employed at the
coke ovens on Mount Washington,
After the greetings were exchanged she
went to the depot and found that she
had missed the train. As she was a
stranger in the city she determined to
return to her cousin's boarding-house
and await the next train. She again
ascended the mountain, and while on
her way she passed around the corner
of a stable and stumbled against a stal
wart puddler.who is likewise a German,
and bears the name of Latherbaugh,
and who was coming from the oppo
site direction. He apologized for the
accident and being struck with the
English maiden's appearance, stopped
for a moment Then a conversation
was had, which ended by Latherbaugh
accompanying her te her cousin's
house. In half an hour after they had
reached the boarding-house they were
betrothed. The happy German imme
diately started out in quest of a minis
ter, and in a few moments the silken
knot of matrimony was tightly tied.
The superstition in regard to mad
stones is well-rooted in the popular im
agination, aad has the right to be. It
is very ancient Pliny gives its history,
for it was old even in his day, and it
has hardly shown any diminution
since. The men recently bitten by a
dog supposed to be rabid in this city
have been anxious to get at a mad
stone. One of them has gone to India
for the purpose, and others would be
glad to do so if they had the means.
Now, it is as capable of demonstration
as anything can be that no stone,
" mad" or otherwise, can have power
to heal in a genuine case of rabies.
Poison cannot be extracted from the
system by such simple means. .But it
may well be that belief in the efficacy
of the remedy accomplishes the cure.
The imagination often plays an impor
tant part in causing or preventing dis
ease, as Dr. William Hammond has
lately shown; and there is no reason in
the nature of things why an imaginary
case of hydrophobia should not be re
lieved by the application Of imaginary
remedies. It is an odd fact that stones
taken from the stomachs of deer, are
supposed to be especially powerful in
extracting poisons, and were so in an
cient times, though it is difficult to
conceive why this beast in preference
to any other, should be opposed to
poison. N. T. Herald.
The presence ef trichinae in pork
can be readily detected with a micro
scope, and people who like that article
of diet would do well to insist on a care
ful inspection of it before allowing it to
appear on the table. In Berlin every
pig killed must be examined with the
microscope before it is sold, or a penal
ty will be inflicted.
A Wetzel County girl say s one hug is
worth a dozen love letters. They can
not be introduced as evidence in a
breaoh of promise suit either.
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