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VOL. 59. WHOLE No. 2293
Second National Bank TOWSON, Md. BETTER “BANK IX.” Do yon carry yor money with yon? That Is not a .ate thin* to do. Ton may lose or someone may hold you np Better “Bank it.” o yon keep your money in yonr house? That is not very safe either. Tour house burn or be robbed. Better “Bank it.” Do yon hide yonr money under a stomp? Be careful; someone may find It. Then there will be trouble. Better “Bank it.” Do yon give yonr money to a friend to keep it for yon? That may not be wise. He will doubtless keep it all right. Better “Bank it.” Do you spend all yonr money as fast as you get it? If so you are contracting a bad ' bablt. Don’t do it. Better “Bank it.” The proper thing to do with yonr money is to “Bank it” with the Second National Bank of lowson. There it will be safe, and whenever you need It simply draw your check and it is at your disposal. —iOPPICEBS; Thomas w. Offutt, Elmer J. Cook. l vice-presidents. Thoß< J PRESIDENT. HARRISON RIDER, ‘ CABHIER. Thomas w offutt W. Bernard Duke, Henry C. Lonqnecker, Elmer j.Cook, Wm. A. lee. Z. Howard Isaac, Harrison Rider, Chas. H. Knox, Noah E. Offutt, John I yellott W. Gill Smith, John V. Slade. Jac. 25—ly. NOW IS THE TIME TO BUT A SEPARATOR. 15 iyEj We will Offer for a Bhort Time a Limited Number of OMEGA CREAM SEPARATORS fMT U FOR BPOT CASH AS FOLLOWS: No. | CAPACITY 325 LBS s^oo n Headquarters for Boot’s Bee Keepers’ Supplies, Star Feed Hills, Hocking Valley Cutters and Corn Shelters, Best I H u Ever Snfky and Gang Plows, Black Hawk % Corn Planters, Sprayers, Etc. J I * RAWLINGS IMPLEMENT COMPANY, ft 0 and I I W. PRATT STREET, BALTIMORE, Md. SOQTHCOMBS HATS Wise Heads Wear Them. 109 E- Baltimore St., BKTWBEN CALVFKT g AND LIGHT STS.. BALTIMORE, Md. Nov. 14—It SatsccUaneouß. • Muller & Yearley, HARNESS, TRUNKS ui BASS, 343 N Gay Street, , .1.1. .. |Tp ' Blankets AND Robes. In addition to Regular Line we offer A BIG LINE OF MILL SAMPLES AT BARGAIN PRICES. Blankets From SI.OO up. Lap Robes “ $2.00 “ *~lt will pay you to see them. Special induce ments to early buyers. FREE good 'blanket 11 EACH FREE Oct.lOtMayOO ESTABLISHED 1870. MAIER’S PREPARED PAINTS ABE STRICTLY PUBS LEAD AND ZINC PAINTS. GUARANTEED EQUAL TO THE BEST. -MANUFACTURED BY JOHN G. MAIER’S SONS, 153-ISS N GAY STREET, Cor Frederick Street. BALTIMORE, Md. Both Phones. |Julyll-ly Geo. W. Kirwan & Co. 13 N. CHARLES STREET, Between Baltimore and Fayette Streets, BALTIMORE. Md., | HABERDASHERS ‘ I SHIRT MAKERS. | SHIRTS TO ME4SORE-™a~ff ed special care. All shirts are made on our own premises and our FIT AND FINISH have made us well known as a SH RT HOUSE. If you have not tried us, do so by ordering a Sample E Cartwright & Warners’ English Unshrinkable Underwear has been the best for over a hundred years and will be for a hundred years to come, gy BOTH PHONES. [July 4—ly WILLIAM J. BIDDISON, FIRE INSURANCE AGENT. Fir®, Tornado and Windstorm Poli cies Issued. NO ASSESSMENT. —representing— _ HOME FIRE INSURANCE CO. OF N. Y„ Assets $30,000,000.00; GIRARD FIRE & MARINE INSURANCE CO. W OF PHILA., Assets $2,141,363.79. Office— Belair Koa<l and Maple Avenue. Buapeburg P. 0., Baltimore Connty, Md. C. & P. and Maryland Phones. •ta share of patronage will be appreciated. Dec. 28—ly IRON BEDSTEAD, IHtASS TRIMMINGS. IRON SPRING, DOU BLE COTTON TOP MATTRESS, 57.00. ~ W. P. COLLINS. 837 Greenmount avenue, Baltimore, Md. 49-Orders by mail filled. [Nov. 14—6 t iEgUscellaujeoua. BARGAINS BARGAINS BARGAINS REMOVAL SALE! FonimCarnk Will vacate mv present store January Ist, 1908. Before removing I will Sell My Entire Stock Below Cost Furniture, Carpets, Stoves, Oilcloth, Mattings and General House Furnishings. If You Want Bargains Call and See Me W. P. COLLINS, 837 Greenmount Ave., Baltimore. Goods Delivered. [Nov. 14—6 t ROBERT CLARK. A. W. CLARK. LUTHERVILLE STEAM LAUNDRY, ROBERT CLARK & SON, Prop’rs. NEWLY FITTED THROUGHOUT AND NOW READY FOR BUSINESS. Good Work and Moderate Charges. Public patronage respectfully solicited. GOODS CALLED FOR AND DELIVERED. C. & P. Phone. Mch 7—ly JOHN TYRIE, —STEAM— BABBLE & GRANITE WORKS, COCKKYBVILLE, Md. -ALL KINDS OF MARBLE & GRANITE MONUMENTS A SPECIALTY. No charge made for showing designs either at the works or elsewhere. JAMES E. DUNPHY, Agent, Towson, Md. Sept. 28—ly Tyj-ONEV TO LOAN. In any sum from SSOO to $6,000 on first mort gage, must be gilt edge, at 5X per cent. JAMES P. OFFUTT, Attorney at Law, Towson, Md Feb. 18—tf fill STfti Oakleigh Station, Md. & Pa, R. R., 2* Miles from Towson. Constantly on hand A LARGE STOCK OF MULES, stfdC TO SUIT ALL PURPOSES. _ jca. Coach, Driving, : TT HTI 0 T l O Saddle and :: : - K\H \ General Purpose iiUIIUIIU FOR SALE OR EXCHANGE. WHORSEsTqARDED'W C. * P. TELEPHONE. DUANE H.~RIOE, Prop’r, TOWSON, Md. Oct.24—ly GROVE FARM FALLS ROAD, North of Brooklandvllle, Md. PRIZE WINNING— Guernsey Cattle, Berkshire Hogs, Shropshire Sheep. FOR BAMC — A Few Registered Heifers, Detween 4 months and 2 years old Apply to JAB. McK. MERRYMAN, B. F. D. Lutherville. Md. C. A P. Telephone—Towson 42. Oct. 24—ly THE BTOBY EVER NEW. BY FLOBENA M. YORK. Only an old, old story Of Infinite love and grace; Only a beam of glory Lighting a baby face. But through the rolling ages, No story half so dear; Of all earth’s sunshine glory. No beams so bright and clear. Only a manger lowly, Wherein the-sweet Child lay; Only a mother holy, watching the hours away. Only a sweet song stealing Down through the quiet skies; Only a star’s soft beaming. Points where the Baby lies. Only some shepherd’s kneeling. Paying their homage sweet. Pouring their richest treasures Down at those Baby-feet. Strains of that far-off anthem Float through the world since then. Breathing of “Joy in Heaven On earth good-will toward men.” Hark! to the joyous chorus— “To you a KiDg is born”; Star of the East now lead us, Lead us this Christmas morn. Till, like the faithful shepherds, We kneel in homage sweet. And pour our hearts’ best treasures Down at those sacred feet. Thus reads the sweet old story. Old. but still ever new; Know we the wealth of glory It brings to me and you ? Know we those tiny fingers Opened Heaven’s portals wide ? But for that helpless Baby All the whole world had died 1 PEACE ON EABTH. BY JULIA W. SEARCH. Martha Joyce walked down the path that led from her door to the road, with quick, firm steps; she closed the gate after her with a sharp click, and as she did so looked back toward the house with an expectant glance. No one was to be seen at the windows, so, drawing her warm woolen shawl close about her shoul ders with an angry jerk, she walked rapidly with swinging steps toward the village. Clouds, leaden gray, hung low. Once in a while a flake of snow would drop lazily down and rest on her shawl or hood. The road was almost as hard as iron, giving out a ringing sound from Martha’s heavily-soled shoes. No one was in sight; even the cottages scattered here and there seemed to be without inmates, so Martha had nothing except her thoughts to keep her company. The deep line between her eyes.thestraight firmly closed lips, the angry upheld head, betokened anything but a gen tle mood, and, indeed, whoever could have called Martha Joyce gentle at her very best ? As she neared the village, signs of busy life began to show. People passing each other with baskets load ed down with packages and yards of Christmas greens. Several spoke to Martha, calling out, “Rare fine weather for Christmas,” but in too great a hurry to stop and talk. Their salutations were returned by Martha, but the sullen face was never lighted up by the glimmer of a smile. She went into one of the shops and bought quite a number of things, the store keeper treating her with defference, as she was always good pay, and bought the best of everything. To day, however, even though only a few days before Christmas, she bought only necessary things —things home ly and plain for the kitchen —and shook her head with a grim smile when the owner of the store, Mr. Trask, showed her a “regular buster of a turkey,” telling him she had much finer ones at home of her own raising. “Well, Miss Joyce, you ain’t going to let Christmas pass without buying some greens, are you, jest to spruce up your house? And,see here, Miss Joyce, I want to show you some fine Christmas cards that came in yester day. He hurried over to' a drawer and took out some fancy cards well sprinkled over with diamond dust; one of them, representing a church lighted up and bearing the inscrip tion : “Peace on earth and good will toward men,” he spoke of as being very choice. “Yes, that is right pretty,” Martha said; “but laws, Mr. Trask, I don’t want any such card as that. It’s only fit for children and you know I haven’t any.” “But other folks have, Miss Joyce, and at Christmas time we all ought to think of others. There’s John Halliday’s children, for instance, somebody ought to do something for them —excuse me for speaking to you about it, Miss Joyce —but he’s down sick, and I hear the whole family is suffering for necessities. My wife is going to send a basket of things, and if you would buy a few toys for the children, and this card, it would do a heap of good. ‘Peace on earth, good will to men,’ he read, holding it at arm’s length,‘sounds kinder warmin’; just think it over, Miss Joyce, and I’ll go and wait on them people while you decide.” As Martha stood looking at the box of cards her face seemed to have taken on a few more lines and grown white and drawn. She leaned heavily against the counter and her thoughts were far away. So John Halliday had come to this, sick and in need ? Well, it served him right! Hadn’t he spoiled her life years ago? Hadn’t he let her get her wedding clothes made, and the invitations all ready to go out, only to jilt her at the last minute to marry pretty Hetty Lee ? Hadn’t she been pitied by all the country folks ? And how she had loved him ! Well, well! God had answered her prayers at last. Mr. Trask had said John Halliday is sick and poor, and that is what she had prayed might come to him. Just see how her life had been ruined ! To be sure she had married, but what had she married? A poor, sickly man, who could do nothing about the farm. Of course, he was always gentle, but she wanted something besides gentle ness. Only that morning Martin had riled her all up by saying, “Marthy, can’t we have a real Christmas this year? Your people and mine is pretty well died out, but there’s sister Kate’s family and your sister Jane’s family, let’s have them all here and romp about with the children. Will you, Marthy ? I’ll get all the things ready for the puddin’. I’d enjoy that, and it would save you.” “Yes, Martin Joyce,” she had re- TOWSON, MD., SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19. 1908. torted, “that’s all you’re good for, potterin’ about doin’ woman’s work. No, we won’t have any children about my bouse, upsetting things, and we won’t have any puddin’, just set your mind to that! Your’re a fine one to romp about with children, ain’t you ?” And then she had left the house, carrying with her the angry memory of tear -filled eyes and a bowed gray head. Her whole nature seemed to have been changed by John Halliday’s desertion, and now he was suffering, too. A harsh laugh broke from her lips, a laugh that ended in a sob. She grew frightened when she heard it, and turned her attention to the for gotten Christmas cards. The words “Eat, Drink and Be Merry,” stood out in glittering letters and brought again to her mind Martin and his de sire for such a time. She pushed the card aside with a sniff of contempt, and in doing so uncovered a smaller one, bearing once more the blessed promise of “Peace on Earth.” How tired she was of everything. How she longed for some of that “peace that was beyond her understanding.” As she started to go home she call ed out to Mr. Trask that she would not buy any of the cards, and was about to open the door when a cheery voice called out to her, “Good after noon, Miss Joyce. Glad to see you looking so well.” It was the village doctor. “Glad to see you looking so well ; it’s pretty cold today, isn’t it? But fine weather for Christmas. I’ve just come from seeing a poor fellow who is very sick, Jobu Halliday 1 Christmas has no charms for him— poor, and three children in need of food, not speakiug of toys the chil dren all look for at this season of the year. His wife, poor woman, is try ing nobly to keep the wolf from the door. You remember her as pretty Hetty Lee, don’t you, Miss Joyce? Well, she is a wreck now. I’m just getting some things for them, all necessary things. Someone ought to send them playthings. I suppose you are making great preparation for Christmay Day? How is Martin? Not so well! Sho 1 I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll drop in tomorrow. Men like Martin are scarce. Good day.” The snow was falling steadily as Martha stepped out into the open air. Everybody seemed to enjoy it and were making merry with each other. Even she felt brighter than when she left home. Her step was lighter and she took more notice of what was going on about her. She passed a store where they sold pictures, an Art Store it was called. The win dows were dressed with ropesof Christ mas green, and little colored globes of light shone out here and there. Across the window in big red letters on a white background she saw again the words “Peace on Earth,” then, “A Merry Christmas to All.” Martha stopped to look. Her thoughts seemed to change. She began to feel as an outsider in all this good ieeling of Christmas fellowship. How cruel she had been to Martin that morning, and he had looked so very pale and thin. Why had she felt so angry when she saw that tear trickle down his cheek? Would she want to change his gentle nature, or put John Halliday in his place, if she could ? No, a thousand times no! She took a few steps forward, then stood a silent, snow-covered figure on the roadside. Cottages were being lighted up now. The short winter day was drawing to an early close, making the twinkling lights neces sary. One cottage nearby had its window-shades rolled up, and Martha could see a merry group dressing a Christmas tree. How happy they all seemed. What was the request Martin had made about their sisters’ children? Why, yes, it would be rare fun to have them in the old farmhouse for Christmas day. The big room used to ring out with childish laughter in days gone by. She would please Martin so if she brought the old days back. The spirit of Christmas seem ed to creep through her entire body ; a long-forgotten anthem rose to her trembling lips. Like a young girl she retraced her steps, and with shin ing eyes and glowing cheeks she burst into Mr. Trask’s store, just as he was putting back into the drawer the Christmas cards still left unsold. “Don’t put them away,” she gasp ed, holding out her hand toward the cards. “I want two or three of them, and that big one with the church on it. I want it for Martin; he loves that sort of thing so. Don’t say it is sold !” “Why, no; it ain’t sold, Miss Joyce. You see it is such a big one, that it don’t sell as quick as the cheaper ones. What a sermon it just seems to preach,don’tit? Anything else tonight ?” “Why. yes; I want that ‘Eat, Drink and Be Merry’ one. Just put them in a box and I’ll take them right along with me. I saw a big tree outside your door ; send that to the farm tomorrow and I’ll come again for the things to go on it. Ob, and I reckon you might fill up a basket with things, that big turkey you showed me this morning, and some toys and sweets for the children, and send them over to John Halliday’s bouse. Needn’t say I sent them. They wouldn’t taste any better for that, you know. Now, don’t try to flatter me for doing my duty. That ‘Peace on Earth’ card has, just as you said a few minutes ago, preached me a sermon I’ll try never to forget. And I’m going home now to tell Martin that we are going to ‘Eat, Drink and Be Merry,’ not only on Christmas Day, but as long as we live.” ' ‘And truths divine came mended from that tongue” so potent towards the establishment of all that’s good are the elements of the Christmas feast. If, as Matthew Arnold says, “the fids to noble life all lie within,” wouldn’t it be wise to let them out at C.iristmas time ?” J SANTA IN BLUE. It was Christmas eve in a side street of the great city and so late that the last customer had left the dingy little shop, and the light from it’s one win dow streamed out upon the night like a lonely beacon. It was a cheerful window as such things go in poor side streets, and a sumptuous Santa Claus, all glittering in cotton snow and rain bow tinsel, stood in its forefront, load ed wifh the pretty things that please children always and especially so at Christmas. Presently from a darker, poorer street a tiny slip of a girl came timid ly around the corner, and, glancing about anxiously to see that no one was in sight, she stole up to the win dow of the little shop and began feast ing her hungry eyes upon its beauti ful treasures. She was very, very thin and pale, and her clothes were but shreds and patches, yet her eyes sparkled, and there was the joy of Christmas in her heart just to look at the good things. For a minute or more she stood with her wan little face pressed close against the glass, and then she drop ped to her knees before this shrine of Santa Claus and clasped her hands to gether as we see pictures of children at prayer. Her upturned eyes were closed, and the light fell upon her face very softly. In the shadow of the houses across the street a big policeman stood watch ing. Now he came stealthily over toward the shrine, with the child on her knees before it. As he reached the curb he heard her voice, trembling and uncertain: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. And, oh, Santy Claus, I do want a dolly and some candy for Christmas ! Amen !” She had said the only prayer she knew, and as she rose to her feet again the policeman touched her on the shoulder. She started suddenly and would have run away, for these street waifs fear the big policemen but he held her. “Come with me,” he said, and she began to cry. He took her into the little shop, and when she came out again she held a yellow haired doll fiercely to her thin little breast with one hand and in the other she carried two bags of candy. As she looked up to the big police manhesawin her face what he had seen as she knelt before the shrine of San ta Claus, and he bent down and kissed her good night.— William J. Lamp ton in New Yotk Herald . TO A POOB LITTLE CHILD AT CHBIBTKAB - Dear heart, you have “nothing to give,'’ you say TO thefrlena you love on Christmas Day; Then go to her, tell her without delay : “Dearly 1 love you—l love you, dear 1” And she will be grateful and glad to hear Those eager words from a heart sincere. For love Is of heaven, and love was born As a tender babe one Christmas dawn, With a gift of joy for the hearts that mourn. And ever since has the world been blest With love for the highest and lowliest; Of all good gifts ’tls the sweetest, best. The whispered word or the fond caress, The trustful look of love’s tenderness. One needs but these to console and bless. And empty hands may do some deed Of thoughtful help for a soul in need That shall up to tne heights of heaven lead. Then grieve not, dearest; all else above The heart’s affection shall richest prove; And gifts are but burdens when lacking love. CHBISTUAS DUBING THE COHFEDEBACY. The Pittsburg Dispatch gives the account of Christmas during the Con federacy, as related by Mrs. Zebulon B. Vance, wife of the late United States Senator from North Carolina. “We had some memorable Christ mas days in the South during the war,” said Mrs. Vance. “That of 1861 was different from any that had preceded it because we were in arms against tue Federal Government, and many of the male guests at Southern homes that day wore Confederate uni forms. Much of the talk at the Christmas dinner table was of sieges and battles and marches, but we were all full of hope and confidence. “Christmas, 1862, found us but poorly prepared to celebrate it Our supplies were few, and Confederate money was at a heavy discount. Then came the bitter year of 1863, with the fall of Vicksburg and the defeat at Gettysburg. With sad faces, harmonizing well with their dresses of coarse black stuff, the women of the South devoted themselves to pick ing lint and spinning and weaving for husbands, fathers, brothers and sweet hearts in the field. “Christmas, 1864—the last Christ mas of the war —dawned, and what a gloomy festival it was for the people of the South ! Of manufactured pro ducts we had practically none. Our hairpins were made of long black thorns, with a ball of sealing wax on the end. We had made into dresses every scrap of available material, while our feet were incased in home made cloth shoes. The slaves, hav ing heard of ‘de ’mancipation procla mation,’ knew that they were free and had all scattered away. Desola tion seemed to reign over everything. Of all the Christmas days I have known that last Christmas in the South in wartime is the one of alloth ers that I am most certain never to forget.” Christmas content is not the least of holiday blessings. When one has learned to appreciate the common things, and to be satisfied with na ture’s ordinary good measure of these, life is not merely more tolerable, but absolutely enjoyable. The children would scarcely ap prove Cicero’s hint that men do not know how great a revenue economy is ; at least, they would not consider this the most advantageous season to profit by its logic. “De man dat reserves mos’ ob his piety foh Sunday,” said Uncle Eben, “can’t blame de small boy for show in’ off mos’ ob his goodness de week befor’ Christmas.” Even orthodoxy is pleasantly af fected by the warmth of the Christ mas spirit, for it is more generous than usual to heterodoxy. CHRISTMAS AND THE CHILDREN. Christmas touches the domestic life more closely than does any other fes tival of the Christian year. In fact, there is probably no day in the calen dar that means as much to the home as Christmas does. It is the day of joy and gladness. Praise is in the air. Lovingkindness is in the heart. In the church and the store, on the street, in the home —everywhere the atmos phere is laden with the Christmas spirit. What a day it is for the chil dren ! It is no wonder that the little folks are delighted when the Novem ber sheet is torn from the calendar on the wall, and December, with its “25” printed in red appears. That means the near approach of the “joytime,” and the little folks are happy with an ticipation. Children are an essential factor in a really “merry Christmas.” Their enthusiasm, interest, expectations, surprise, delight and unbridled joy, not only over the gifts they may re ceive, but rather over the whole set ting of the happy festival —these give the occasion a quality that is necessa ry to a comprehension of its wider significance. The celebrations of the day in the church give the children the deep religious impressions that are inseparable from Christmas ; and these are confirmed and strengthened by the suggestions and instruction of the Christian home, for it is in the home itself that the abiding impres sions of Christmas are made. The presence of the children in the home gives a zest to the joy of Christ mas time. If there are several little folks, the sharing of their pleasures multiplies them, and makes the day one of greater happiness. And just here —as at many other points —the children who have brothers and sis ters are at a great advantage over those who stand alone in their homes as the representatives of the next generation. In the December number of one of the numerous papers there appears a double cartoon, entitled, “The two sides of the picture.” One side rep resents a beautiful, well-dressed little boy, an only child of a wealthy home. The boy is surrounded by costly Christmas gifts. Nearly everything that a boy could wish to receive at Christmas is there. But the boy is unhappy. A surprised, far-away look is in his eyes. He is lonely. He is denied the unspeakable joy of com panionship. He would give up all his gifts if he could have a playmate. The other picture introduces one to a humble home. The Christmas gifts are few and cheap. A healthy-look ing boy is blowing a tin trumpet with all his might, and at his side his two sisters are playing contentedly with their new dolls. It does not take much to make them happy —as far as Christmas gifts go. Their deeper joy comes from their companionship, which is a token of affection greater than that possessed by any toy, how ever costly it may be, and an unfail ing source of contentment. Blessed is the home in which the shout of the happy children is heard on the birth day of Him who loved the lambs of the fold with a tender love, and said of them “of such is the kingdom.” But there are many homes where Christmas will be spent without the glad sound of the children’s voices. The place that knew them in other years—perchance only last Christmas —is now still and lonely and desolate. How many homes there are in which the note ot sadness will mingle with that of gladness; the one coming from the multitude, the other from the heart stricken with sorrow because a beloved presence is no longer in the home at Christmas time. There will be longings for a “touch of a vanish ed hand, and for the sound of a voice that is still,” even as the assembled children sing their sweet carols in the church, or the greetings of Christmas are exchanged in the homes where sorrow has entered. A Merry Christmas to all! To the little children; to those in the first flush of youthhood ; to those of ripe years; to those in mature life ; to the aged ! To the homes where the laugh ter and praise of the children are heard, and to the homes where those joyous voices no longer resound : A Merry Christmas! Does it seem like mockery to wish a merry Christmas to those whose hearts cannot be merry while the memory of the loss of precious chil dren is still fresh? Well, it is not that, but if “merry” seems to be too harsh a word, let “holy” take its place. To all who mourn this day because of the going out of the chil dren from the earthly home we would say, “A Holy Christmas”—a day sanctified by sacred memories and glo rified by blessed anticipations. These boys and girls who have gone out from the home fold are with those we “have loved long since and lost awhile.” No, not that exactly. They are not among the lost. They are ours still. For a little while God, who gave them to us, has them in his closer keeping. They are in his presence. They sing his praises. By faith we can bring them back to enjoy with us the sacred glories of the Christmas time. They are ours and God’s—and they serve him day and night in his temple. — Epworth Herald. Dashaway —Well, Uncle Jasper, how are you getting on with your Christmas dinner ? Uncle Jasper—Fust rate, sah. Col onel Winterblossom done guv me a present of a fine fat turkey, sah. Dashaway—That’s very strange. I just left the colonel and he didn’t say anything about it. Uncle Jasper—No, sah. He’s got to count dem turkeys fust. Lady—My husband won’t wear those shirts I bought him for Christ mas. I didn’t think he would. And now I’d like to exchange them. Clerk—For what, madam ? Lady—Well, you might let me look at some lace handkerchiefs and some silver hatpins. MOTHER HUBBARD’S CHRISTMAS. BY FRANK H. SWEET. One Christmas time when old Mother Hubbard— She of the far-famed empty cupboard— Sat by her evening Are alone. Wishing she had for her dog a bone. There came a knocking upon the door. And as she hastened across the floor It flew wide open, to her surprise. And, oh, the vision that met her eyes! It nearly took away her breath And frightened her almost half to death. There were people here, there were people there, There were people yonder and everywhere. All were screaming. "Dear Mrs. Hubbard, We've brought you something to fill your cup board !” First came lovely Cinderella, With her prince, a handsome fellow ; Mother Goose and Simple Simon; In their wake the Penny Pieman; Bluebeard, savage and defiant; Jack, who often killed a giant; Puss in Boots, so trim and nice. Followed by the three blind mice; Then the little naughty kittens. All In pretty scarlet mittens; Sweet Bopeep and Little Boy Blue, Red Riding Hood and the bad wolf, too; Jack, whose beenstalk ran so high. And the old woman who swept the sky; Jack Horner, with his face aglow; The frog who did a-wooing go; Dame Trot and all the endless crew That lived together in a shoe. And many another known to fame Had I but room to give his name. This much to tell you will suffice — They each and all brought something nice To nil the cupboard o’er and o’er. In fact, their gifts bestrewed the floor. On every chair and table stood Some article of dally food. Each nook and corner held a dish Of either food or flesh or fish Till Mother Hubbard scarce could find A resting place for foot or mind. While doggie walked on his hind legs For fear of breaking pies or eggs. And, as for all the company, They had to stand outside, you see. Yet, as they had to leave quite soon To see the cow jump o’er the moon, It did not matter in the least. But what about the sumptuous feast Inside the cottage ? Must I tell The fearful ending that befell The hungry dog who ate and ato And brought about the cruel fate It is my duty to relate 1 For he, who lived upon a bone, Died when with plenty left alone. And ere the morning stars grew dim He stiffened out in every limb. So Mother Hubbard buried him. This moral to the tale I give— Live not to eat, but eat to live. A PLEA FOR SANTA CLAUB. The editorial writer of the New York Sun, who wrote the following answer to a little girl asking if there was a Santa Claus, died last year, and it is a strange thing that of all the brilliant and learned articles he wrote during his many years as an editor this little “credo” on Santa Claus is the only one that has lived longer than he. It was quoted when he died as the most popular editorial that ever ap peared in the Sun —which helps to prove that it is what goes to the heart that men and women like best, and that the hearts of most people are in the right place, if one knows how to find it! This editorial has been quot ed so often that it has almost become a classic, but it is so good that it de serves to be passed on still further : “We take pleasure in answering at once, and thus prominently, the com munication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of the Sun : “ ‘Dear Editor—l am eight years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, ‘lf you see it in the San, it’s so.’ Please tell mo the truth. Is there a Santa Claus ? Virginia O’Hanlon.’ “Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intel ligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge. “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas ! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance, to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which child hood fills the world would be extin guished. “Not believe in Santa Claus ! You might as well not believe in fairies ! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, coming down, what would that prove ? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn ? Of course not; but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can convince or im agine all the wonders that are unseen and unseenable in the world. “You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strong est man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernatural beauty and glory beyond. It is all real! Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. “No Santa Claus! Thank God, he lives forever! A thousands years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.” “It sho’ly do look,” said Miss Miami Brown sadly, “like dar war no mo romance dese days.” “What’s de trouble !” asked Eras tus Pinkly. “I takes notice dat when you asks gemmen to Christmas dinner he doesu’ ’splay no interest in whethuh dey’s gwine to be mistletoe in de pah lor, but keeps hintin’ aroun’ to fin’ out how ’bout de turkey an’ fixin’s on de dinner table.” “Made known your wants for Christmas yet ?” ‘Sure. I asked the 47 friends who : sent me suspenders last year to send trousers to match them this year. ESTABLISHED 1850. THE CHRIBTMAB SEASON IS AT HAND. On the best of authority it can be stated that Christmas will be held this year on December 25th. A good many people imagine that it is coming some time in the distant future (they can’t tell just when,) and that in some unknown way they can somehow es cape giving up any money to buy presents. Now, you may as well face the music. Christmas is coming a little less than a month from now, and the days will spin around before you know it. You know you want to give them all presents they will appreciate and enjoy—the wife, the children, daugh ter and son, father, mother —and your sweetheart, if you are in the true lovers’ class. Buy your presents now. You have more time to make your selections; you can shop with comfort; you get first choice of the fine stocks of Christ mas goods; they will not cost you a cent more. By doing your shopping early you give the storekeeper and the clerks a chance ; you distribute busi ness over a longer period; you ac commodate them and they accommo date you. It is of mutual benefit to buyer and seller. Just at this time early Christmas buying would help to revive business and should be a substantial aid in the restoration of prosperity. Join the prosperity promoters —the wise women and considerate men — and buy your Christmas presents now. And you will rejoice and be exceed ing glad when you find you will not have to fight your way through the surging throngs that crowd the streets and stores just before the holidays, fighting for goods, and at last taking not what pleases them, but what they can get. The early Christmas shop per gets the best. Thus writes the Baltimore Sun. Now here is another view from Bry an’s Commoner: With the coming of the Christmas season we are again confronted by the newspaper advice to ‘ ‘ buy your Christ mas presents early.” We refuse ! Buying Christmas presents is not a case of bargain hunting. Even the poorest of us, if we have but a dime or two to spend, want to get the most possible out of it, and the joy of ming ling with the Christmas crowd, the glare of the lights, the contact with others who are filled with the spirit of the season, the rush and crush and bustle —what would Christmas be without all these things? Sordid merchants who want to de crease the expense account, and who want you to get your purchases earlier because the prices rule a little higher, will advise you to “buy 'em early,” but if you succumb to these blandish ments you are going to miss your rightful share of the season. This thing of buying Christmas presents ahead of time and storing them away is too much like eatiug tomorrow’s supper this morning in order to make sure you’ll have it. Besides, what’s the use of buying the Christmas presents early and try ing to keep them concealed from a bunch of kiddies that can detect a hidden treasure in the house as easily as a dog can find the place it buried its last bone? Why, who of us having experience in such matters would miss the ting ling delight of trying to sneak into the house an evening or two before Christmas eve, with our arms full of bundles, and getting them stowed away without arousing the suspicions of the kiddies? That’s half the fun of the Christmas season. Buy your Christmas presents early ! We’ll do no such thing. We’ll wait until the last minute, and then we’ll get into the rush and have our toes stepped on, our skirts torn, our hats crushed, our coats ripped and our col lars wilted—but through it all we’ll be as happy as kids just out of school. This cold, calculating, time-saving, nerve-conserving, mechanical method of observing the Christmas season does not make a hit with us. THE CHRISTMAS PROBLEM. Once more the glad season of Christ mas is at hand and the one important problem of life becomes, “Shall we give our loved ones the presents they would like, or those we think are good for them ?” Deciding in favor of the latter, we shall buy Bobby, who is yearning for a new bicycle, a nice, black suit of evening clothes. This will be espe cially good for Bobby, who has arrived at the age where he despises being dressed up, detests girls, and is awk ward in his movements owing to a large supply of feet and hands. For Sallie, who is a “new” little girl, aged seven, and addicted to boys’ plays, we shall buy a large wax doll and a pretty sewing basket. For mother, who is a trifle too advanced for her years, who enjoys the boys’ games and carries flags for them in all their football contests —for mother we shall buy a beautifully bound copy of Thomas a Kempis and a lovely white knit shawl. Then for John dear John ! How kind, though gay and up-to-date he is !—we shall buy a smoking-jacket. To be sure, John never smokes, but a man in a smok ing-jacket looks so cozy sitting in the family circle evenings and Sundays. — Harper's Bazar. “I wonduh why Santa Claus uses a reindeer,” said Pickaninnie Jim. “Well,” answered Mammy Brown, “I specs mebbe a mule would be cheaper.” “Yes. But goodness Lor’, mam my ! S’pos’n dat mule was to take a notion to balk!” Little Rodney (manipulating his Christmas toy)—Hoo ee, pa ! Mr. Scrappington —Well, what is it, my son ? Little Rodney—Why, pa, my jump in’ jack cuts up just like you do when ever ma asks you for money. IT was a Chicago girl’s stocking that Santa Claus thought about put ting a house and lot in.