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OURMOLIDAY SUPPLEMENT.
GENTRHLREGORD.
SUPPLEME T
Lancaster. Ky., December 31, 1899.
ESSftfc
Est;
Some twenty years
ago.
I think It was. or,
maybe something
better.
' That first I took the
liberty to know
Tour residence, and
bore you with a letter.
Tou never sent an answering line. I fear
That your attentions may have been di
vided: I wonder did it never strike you Queer,
Our correspondence being so one-sided.
Tet, of philanthropists you were the king;
Tou always managed, without word or
warning.
To drop in somehow, and to leave the thing
(I fear I'd hinted for) on Christmas morn
ing. May I that generosity abuse
At this late date, by asking for another
iTVee, little present, of no earthly use
To anyone but just Prlscllla's lover?
Simply a little work (worse luck) of art:
Yet lack of it has threatened to undo me.
In point of fact it's well, Prlscllla's heart.
My very dear sir, won't you bring it
to me?
JCo need, of course, of mentioning it to her.
(I own I find the idea somewhat shock
ing). But, if you're fond of custom and prefer
The old-time way, I'll gladly hang my
stocking.
Tou shall be welcome. The address I gave
Some years ago. I beg you will remember.
For old-time's sake be kind, and I'm your
slave
And humble servant, dating from Decem
ber. Theodosia Pickering Garrison, in N. Y.
Truth.
HEY had been mar
ried only six weeks.
JrS 7fV lJus Rush Palmer,
fitT JlCjJM? from nowhere, and
little Rosy Dietrich,
the orphan hill girl. They had a small cabin,
the rent of which Rush paid by chopping
wood on the steep hillside and carrying it
down to the wagon tracks below. His fire
wood was had for the cutting, there were
a dozen chickens, two pigs and a cow. This
Jive stock Rosy's aunt had given her be
cause she was going to take the little yellow-headed
brother with her that had been
such a burden to the aunt.
So they dwelt together in the two-roomed
cabin, Rush and Rosy and the small boy, who
had not yet worn trousers. Rosy had been
the prettiest of the hill girls, but had no
land, no prospects. She loved Rush Palmer
with unquestioning, unreasoning trust. He
Lad worked all the summer on a farm near.
When he came, from nowhere in particular,
he said, he was thin and white. Now he was
brown and brawny. When he asked little
Rosy to marry him and she said "Yes" with
out question, he had given her a curious
look.
"Your cousin Karl calls me a tramp," he
murmured.
"I care not," laughed Rosy; "he is mad;
that's all."
They were happy, in a careless, innocent
way. On Thanksgiving day Rush killed quail
and showed Rosy how to broil them. He
liked to keep Thanksgiving day, he said. It
made ldm think of tlie time when he was a
boy and had a home.
"Are they all dead?" .asked Rosy, from
the stove.
He gave her a startled glance.
"Who?"
"Your people. There must be some, but
you never tell. Me I have my aunt, Karl,
Liy cousin, and Hilda. Hast thou none?"
"None."
"I will be to you all," she said, with her
mouth on Ids cheek.
The third day before Christmas there
came a halloo from the wagon track.
"Palmer, Palmer! Halloa, Rush Palmer!
Here's a card from the post office."
"THOU HAST COME."
8
When Rush came back he looked so
changed Rosy cried.
"I know not what news comes, Rosy,"
eaid he, "but there are letters for me at the
Tillage. I will return."
The night came and the morning, still no
etep of Rush on the threshold. Her cousin
Karl came to hear of the letter,
i "You will see him no more," he said.
"Our neighbor Haller watched him jump
on the cars. He was a tramp, and you have
so husband. He has left you."
But Rosy wept with Otto in her arms and
.would not listen.
The next day was Christmas eve. Rosy
and Rush were to make a tree for Otto. It
jrs a small evergreen on the hillside.
i wifl cut it and have it ready," thought
Rosy; "and he will come. He is not un
kind." Yet she wept while she chopped the tree
with Rush's bright ax. She killed the
chicken set apart for the dinner, she baked
pies and made strange figures of animals
and people out of gingerbread. Snow began
to fall, and still Rush came not.
"You shall return with me," demanded
her cousin Karl, when he came over the hill
after dark. "We are not cold-hearted. My
mother sent me for you and for Otto. I will
carry him safely wrapped up."
"You are good," said little Rosy, with
tears, "but when he comes the cabin will be
dark and cold. No, no, Karl, I will wait;
anyhow until the new year."
She set up the little tree and dressed it.
There were bright berries strung, there were
rows of white popcorn, there were long vines
with red leaves carefully dried. There were
the reddest applies, the gingerbread dogs and
cats, boys and girls. There were red stock-
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Dear to the heart is the old love,
'Though faded and fraued with wear.
And sweet is the face of the new love.
So f ascinatinglg fair ;
ings and mittens knitted by Rosy's nimble
fingers, and a boy doll of wood, skillfully
carved by Rush. It was dressed by the little
wife in quaint trousers, blouse and cap.
There were whistles of alder and pig's blad
der that gave a delightful squeak. There
were cows' horns covered with tissue paper
and destined to hold the candy Rush was to
buy at the village.
"Alas! alas!" sobbed Rosy, "there is not
any candy for Otto now, but I have made
these sugared balls from cake dough, and
he will not know."
Shame crept into Karl's heart that he had
not made Otto a Christmas gift. He spoke
roughly to hide it.
"You are childish, Rosy. Never before
had Otto such a Christmas as now."
"For my man made it; my man made it,"
Bobbed Rosy, "and not his blood kin. No,
no, Karl, I know his heart. He will come
home."
Karl went homeward through the storm.
Rosy sat by the stove with, her apron over
her head. It was bitter. So often had they
sat here while she knitted and he made al
der whistles.
She sat long, but Otto called out from his
little bed and she went to lie by him, then
fell asleep. How long she slept she knew
not.
There was a noise in the outer room. She
rose softly and with beating heart stole to
the door.
The tree! The tree! In among the pop
corn and the apples and the gingerbread
dogs were strands of glittering gold and sil
ver, pink candy hearts, oranges, stars, ar
rows, aye, a dozen gleaming devices. From
the top bough hung, as flying, a wax angel.
About the rough stand were things Rosy
had never seen, save in dreams. A rocking
chair, a beautiful cloak, all fur and red
lined. A grand hat with feathers, a silk
dress, dull blue and crimson, changing in
the light.
Was she dreaming? But a figure crossed
the floor softly, a figure that set all doubts at
CHRISTMAS
mm l! mm I
HARD TO
rest. Rush, her husband! With a cry she
burst out, her flaxen braids hanging, her
eyes shining. She cried in her mother
tongue:
"Thou hast come!"
He soothed her with a mist in his own
eyes.
"Did you think I would not come? I had
to go to Lawrenceburg, to the bank. There
was money for me that I thought others had
taken from me. See, I have made my faith
ful little one a Christmas. The snow kept
back the wagon, but I got here before Christ
mas day. See, the clock is at 12. We will
light these candles and call Otto. He can
sleep to-morrow."
He lit the candles, still holding his arm
about her. As they went to the bedroom he
laughed again.
"I will buy your cousin's farm for you to
morrow if you say so. I have, after long
disappointments, come to my own. And I
have you, truest heart, that wedded-for love
a tramp. Art happy?- 'Tis Christmas day."
Chicago Daily News.
A BEAUTIFUL CUSTOM.
Christmas Giving Its True Significance
Often Lost Sight Of.
There is no more beautiful custom than
the time-honored one of Christmas giving,
when it is observed in the true spirit; that
is, when the gifts are those of love, not of
imagined obligation.
Present giving at Christmas is of heathen
origin. During the yuletide season our
heathen ancestors were wont to make concil
iatory offerings to their deities, whose per
sonal movements and direct interferences on
earth were supposed to be traceable at that
period. Later, when the church Christian
ized the custom, the giving of reciprocal gifts
so beautifully symbolical of God's great
love gift of a Saviour to a lost world was
substituted for the heathen observance.
Although to all unselfish souls the de
light in giving far exceeds that of receiving,
MORNING
: CHOOSE
It is hard to decide between them
Which one the heart loves the best
The new can not be resisted.
But the old holds its own in the test.
yet the excessive giving so much in vogue
at the present will soon by its own weight ex
tinguish to some extent this pleasure. If all
would have the courage of their convictions
on this subject and refuse to degenerate the
ancient custom, so fraught with sacred
meaning, into one of exchange and barter,
this danger would soon be overcome.
Even within the confines of the family
circle the true significance of the custom
is too often lost sight of, and the opportunity
the occasion offers is embraced to make some
necessary article of clothing, furniture or the
like do duty for the Christmas gift. This is
a wrong interpretation of the festival. From
the head of the family down to the tiny tod
dler the Christmas gift should be some
thing, no matter how insignificant in itself,
that can be treasured and preserved as a
memento of the joyous occasion.
Make the season one of joy supreme. Let
the Christmas spirit permeate everything,
from the vine-wreathed windows, the yule
log-on the-hearth, the tree laden -with love
offerings, down to the specially prepared
dishes.
But count not your day a success if the
Christmas cheer is confined to your own
fireside. Forget not those homes upon
whose hearths no yule log is burning. Alas!
they are all too numerous. Seek out such
an one, and transfer to it at least one ray
of the sunshine which gladdens your own
heart and home. Katharine E. Megee, m
Ladies' World.
Christmas Advice for a Millionaire.
Although handicapped by your circum
stances, it is not impossible for you to ex
tract some comfort from Christmas. One of
the best rules is not to allow yourself to
think about your condition. You would
gladly swap places and stomachs with some
poor devil who has to earn his own living,
but do not dwell upon this. Instead, ascer
tain the address of some misguided philan
thropist who is in the habit of giving a
Christmas dinner to a lot of ragamuffins.
Frank B. Welch.
Get him to take you to the place and view
the moving spectacle. He will be glad to
have you see it, and it will be a source of
considerable amusement to you. Then, after
you have been driven home, you can esti
mate the cost per plate and the number
fed, and easily ascertain how much you
have saved by not doing the same thing.
This will cast a gentle glow over the re
mainder of your holiday and help you to en
joy what otherwise might be a cheerless
Christmas. Life.
Happy Children.
Blessed are the children who can still
hang up their stockings and believe im
plicitly that a really, truly Santa Claus will
fill them. Brooklyn Life.
Look to the Future.
It is not -wise to have so merry a Christ
.Has that you cannot have a happy New
Year. Chicago Tribune.
'OOD-BYE. old year!
We've journeyed on
together many
days.
?And now behold the
parting of our
ways
Is very near;
With thoughts of mingled gladness and of
dread.
I see the winding way that I must tread
To Future Lands:
For thee awaits the realm of shadows
deep
The Silent Land of years that He asleep
With folded hands.
Good-bye, old year!
A few more steps ere we forever part-7
A few more words that wake the throbbing
heart
To hope and fear;
A farewell smile, a lingering clasp of hand.
Ere thou shalt He within the shadow-land
All silently:
The while I haste a glad new year to greet.
The while I journey on with me'morits
sweet.
Old year, of thee.
Good-bye, old year.
Alas, not half I felt or knew till now
How kind and brave and true a friend wtrt
thou;
For ah, twice dear
A loved one seems when comes the dark
ened day
."When heart and Hps all tremulous must
say
A last good-bye:
Yet. though thy friendly face no more I se.
The memories sweet my heart has kept of
thee.
Alice Jean Cleator, in Ladies' World.
THE FIRST CHRISTMAS.
Ttc Town of Bethlehem Where the Vise ?Ien
Were Guided bij a Mijsterlous Star.
"The place is Bethlehem, but the Holy
Family are no longer at the inn, in which
'there is no room' for them," writes Rev.
Armory II. Bradford, D. D., in the Ladies'
Home Journal, of "The First Christmas
Present." "They arc now in a house and
by themselves. The dwellings o: the
poorer classes of that land and time were
of primitive simplicity. The walls were oi
stone, often without cement or plaster; the
roofs were of boughs or poles laid side by
side and covered with mud and straw; the
floors were of earth. They contained few
rooms if indeed, there were more than one,
and no windows such as are to be found
in modern houses. The best of these build
ings were hardly more sumptuous than the
dugouts of the American prairies or the
crofters' cottages of Scotland and Skye, but
because of the dryness of the climate they
wcre not uncomfortable. Neither walls nor
floors were damp. Jesus and Mary were in
such a house, and were as well provided for
as most of the peasant people of their time
and their means.
"The strangers who appeared in the
streets of that little town were wise men
from the east. They were guided by a mys
terious star. They sought one who was
'born king of the Jews.' When they found
Him, in true oriental fashion they first
bowed their heads to the ground in saluta
tion and then presented to Him gold, frank
incense and myrrh. The phrase 'wise men,
or Magi, indicates that they came from
Persia or Arabia; that probably they were
followers of Zoroaster, and therefore that
they were fircworshipers. That is all that
the Gospels teach us, either directly or by in
ference, concerning them."
What He Makes.
He was wondering how Santa CIau3 gat
the presents that he gives away.
"Papa," he asked, "does Santa Clans
make anything?"
"lie does, my boy, he does," replied the
father, who had juat een'the results of a
little Christmas shopping. "He makes some
men prosperous and he makes others fail."
Then he retired to the library and made
another attempt to balance his cash. Chi
cago Post.
"si Pi
"Peace on Earth."
While merry bells are ringing.
And happy voices singing
Because the blessed Christ-child
Long years ago was born.
Oh! may we all remember.
In the cold and bleak December,
There are many, many children
Unhappy and forlorn.
Xet us try to lift their sadness.
Let us fill their hearts with gladness.
And share with them the brightness
Of the joyful Christmas morn.
Youth's Companion
STUMPED.
Mrs. Maiden What are you going to give
your husband for Christmas?
Mrs. Atkins Really, I don't know what
to give him. I've been looking through the
house this morning, and I can't think of
a thing we need in the way of furniture or
decoration that is within our means. Chi
cago News.
A Philanthropist.
"I wisht I hed money enough ter make
ev'ry poor child in N'York happy ter-mor-rer,"
remarked Dusty Rhodes on Christmas
eve.
"Wot would yer do?" inquired Bowery
Staggers, as he finished his schooner and
started for the free lunch.
"Put it inter goverment bonds an live
on de interest," replied the philanthropic
Dusty Rhodes. Judges
