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Y 3 The smiling fare of William J. Jeffords was seen on our streets yesterday. He lives In Cincinnati, and has done well. It Is his first visit to his old home In twenty year«. He Is •topping with his aged pa rents, Captain and Mrs. W. J. Jeffords. That is just a homely news item clipped from a country paper. It has some thoughts In it for you, Mr. Busy Man. Nearly all of us live in the future. We are on the right side of 50, and have, we hope, many long years before us. If we are rich we hope to become richer. If we are poor we hope to become wealthy, and few people who consider old Hge and a completed career as something distant stop to think of the duty we owe to the old folks "down in the country." That is where the majority of the success ful business men came from. In thousands of cases father and mother are still on the old farm, content to die where they have lived, far from the strife of city life, close to the soil and jin tore. This year you should slip n few things into a grip, catch the last train and spend Christinas at home. It will be different from other Christmases, for hospitality means much in the country. It's genuine. It's un tnixed with business considerations. Your father or the hired man will meet you nt the depot, and on the way to the old home on the farm he will tell you of the things you did when you were a boy. He'll point out the old schoolhouse where you learned your a-b ab's and had some of the etissedness licked out of you. nnfl the little old church where a preacher preached brimstone and fire in a way that made your flesh cringe and you didn't dare sleep alone. It will all come back to you. Yon had almost forgotten that you were a boy, hadn't you'/ Y'ou'll fill your lungs with pure air, feel the stinging breeze against your face and your heart will begin to throb with good impulses. Here everytldng seems to be honest and real and good. And the welcome! Don't be ashamed of the tears that wet your cheeks. An old man with snowy locks, trembling with affection, a grand old woman, your mother, who weeps softly, as women do, because her heart is filled with hap piness. You couldn't make that woman believe that you ever had a petty meanness: that you had even thought wrong; that you took a narrow view of life, or that you had enmities that embittered your ex istence. You couldn't convince that obi man that in tile world could be found n smarter "boy." Love forgets faults and exalts virtues. To them your little successes seem like triumphs. Don't forget the little room. You oc cupied it as a boy. You slept well in those days. You hadn't a care. You were free, and you were sound in mind, morals and body. It is good to think of those things. It is good to think of Christ mas Day. of the gifts and the pleasure and good will that went with them, of the dinner and the long table, surrounded by relatives and neighbors, too poor to have their own Christmas dinners. And when the gray old man bows his liead, and with the faith of a child, says: "We thank thee, O Lord, for the mer cies thou hast shown ns," the simple prayer that follows will appeal to all that is good in your and give you new hope, new life, new courage.—Cincinnati Post. I OK I MAIN 11 T HE city's streets were thronged. Crowds of Christmas shoppers hur ried to and fro. Electric lights from the big stores shone on thedr rosy and happy faces, and the younger ones laughingly shook the snow from their hair and capes. Charlie Wemper noted all this as with his hand on the con troller he held the big suburban car In check. It was crowded to the doors as It started on its trip into the country with its human freight. The passengers were In a merry mood. They had re mained until the last car, the opera run, and were going to their homes on the line, with their arms full of bundles and their hearts filled with good cheer. All this swept through the brain of the tired motorman, and there was no answering smile as gay laughter reached him through the closed doors of the ves tibule. Here it was Christmas eve. He had had fairly steady runs up to the time the summer business began to slack off, when the time table changed and he went on the board as first extra. A wife and two little ones at home had to be fed and clothed, and his 20 centa an hour, with an average of six hours a day, had not placed him in a position of affluence, nor enabled him to look forward to the glad Christmas time with any degree of joy. He thought of the scant supply of coal in the shed, the almost depleted larder and empty purse with pay day ■till more than a week off, and sighed to himself. "Eight dollars and a half coming to me," he said, as he almost savagely swung around to six points. The car felt the current and sprang forward along the shining ribbons of steel which show ed up in the glow of the headlight in the endless stretch of whjte ahead. The dty had been left behind and the farm houses quickly slid back into the Shadows as the car sped by. The shin ing rails no longer showed up ahead. It was all a dead level of white. The ewift lj-fulling enow had covered with its mantle the rails of the line, but the wheels still sunk through it and clutch ing the rail drank in the electric fluid. Thoroughly acquainted with the road, and with the car under perfect control. Wemper, one of the most careful, but nlsu one of the newest men on the road, had no misgivings as lie sped along the snow covered way. Suddenly ahead there wn* a bluish light which seemwl to dance in the air. "My God. what's this?" he exclaimed rs he sprang from his seat white as the driven snow which sur rounded the car. He shut off the cur rent and put on the air with such force as to bring the car almost to a stand- i still, and throw the passengers from ! their seats. Quickly the controliet swung! around and the car slowly started to move backward. To the trail in the I vestibule it seemed an age before the [ wheels began to revolve backward. The I car was on a long but abrupt curve. ; Wemper knew what the bluish light j meant. It was an inbound eoraing to ward him at full speed. \\ hat caused the mixup Wemper did not know, but he did know that to lie caught on that curve meant certain death to himself and the sixty odd passengers on the car. The headlight of the ap proaching car now loomed into view . It was coming at breakneck speed, but Wemper's ear with its load of human be ings was now also speeding backward. There had been no orders nt the last telephone booth and the out-hound car was supposed to have a clear track. Whatever the error, it was a palpable fact that the coining car wns upon him. There seemed to bo no effort on the part of the man in the other vestibule to CUTTING CHRISTMAS TREES. '-V CM t ! tV/ r UN«* •Jm fcitlKJ"» : • te i* opr attempt to oheck the speed and the ifttiM Kemper could hope to do was to lessen the force of the collision. On came the opposite oar until less than 100 feet. It was one of the newest and most power ful on the road and Kemper's heart dropped as he realized that fact. The passengers by this time had ascertained they were speeding back, and the con ductor had his hands full striving to check the panic. Looking now right into the vestibule of the opposing car. Wemper saw a livid face with glaring eyes. One strong, bony hand clutched the controller, trying to force it still further around to get more speed. There was n terrible smile on the white face. The man was mad. A cold sweat broke out on the forehead of Wemper. A cottage within which sat a woman smoothing the hair of a little boy while her body swayed gently to and fro as she lulled the baby to sleep, came before his vision. Who would fill the empty larder now? Who replenish the dwindling coal pile? A groan burst from him as they, pursuer and pursued, sped by the power station and l>ack over the switch. There was no danger from be hind and they dashed on back into dark ness. leaving the sub-station keeper root ed to the spot with astonishment. The fntal race was drawing to a close. Not ten feet now Intervened between the headlights of the two cars when sud denly there was pitch darkness. The •peed of the cars slackened and the wild in-hound gently came upon the spe cial. There was a crashing of glass as the two headlights, now dull and dark, came together; a slight jar and the dan ger was passed. The sub-station tender with a heaven-l>om gleam of common sense had »topped the machinery and turned off the power. Springing from the vestibule as soon as he realized what had happened, Wem per climbed into the vestibule of the other car, livid with rage at the danger Into which the other motorman had placed him. There was no need for bis anger, for it was a dead hand that held the controller, and the stare was one of combined madness and death. Not a living soul was on the in-bound onr. Turning off the current. Wemper took the controller from the suffering fingers and ran back to the sub-station, about a quarter of a mile, and the |tower was once more turned on. During his absence the truth was discovered and when he came back to the well-lighted and com paratively uninjured ear. a cheer went up. The men passengers grabbed him by the hand, while the women shed tears of gratitude. His own eyes moistened and a lump came in his throat as he thought of the cottage ami its occupants. Coupling the two cars the journey was resumed and the passengers began to get off. As they did so every one drop ped something in the hat at the door. When the end of the run was reached, a man came forward. In his hand he held a hat which was stuffed full of bills and silver. Taking a slip of paper from his pocket tile passenger folded it and turned it with the other contents of the hat. into the cap of the astonished Wemper. "Take this with a Merry Christinas and a God bless you from the passengers you saved from death," he said, and then left the car. » His eyes glistening. Wemper counted tlie treasure. There was over a hundred dollars in money. The slip of paper was the check of a prominent banker of the town at the end of the line for $HX>. "A Christmas for the wee ones, after all," exclaimed Wemper, his face light ing up. "Here. Bill." he shouted to the conductor. "We go whacks on the cash." Bill was loth to accept, but finally con sented and there were two merry Christ mases on the Main lane. - Detroit Free Press _ Ring Out the Old, Ring in the New. Sn C Pat—Whoy Is th' owld year loike a whet towel, Nora, darlint? Nora—Whoy ? Pat—Becase they always ring it out. Two Christmas Games. A Y'ulÿtide version of the donkey par ty is played thus: On a sheet sketch or paste a design of a Christmas tree. Have each branch of the tree terminate in a circle containing a number, using the numbers from one to ten or one to twen ty-five, according to the size of the tree. Each person playing is blindfolded in turn and is given a rosette with which he must "decorate the tree." Each per son alms to pin his or her roaette on or near to the highest number of the tree. .Each competitor has three trials, the three numbers to which he pins nearest being written down to his credit by the hostess, who keeps tally. The one whose three numbers added together gives the largest sum total wins the first prize. "Christmas candles" is a good old time game. A lighted candle is placed upon a table. The player is blindfolded and stationed with his back to the candle, about h foot from it. He's then told to take three steps forward, turn around three times, then to walk four steps toward the candle and blow it out. His attempt to do so will probably be as amusing to the audience as disconcerting to himself. CHRISTMAS IN SERVIA. Santa Clans Receives Presents Instead of Giving Them. In Servi a they keep Christinas eve in a somewhat peculiar way. The father of the family goes into the wood ami cuts down a straight young oak, choosing the most perfect lie can find. He brings it in. saying, "Good evening and a happy Christmas," to which those present sny. "May God grant both to thee, and mnyost thou have riches nnd honor!" Then they throw over him grains of corn. Presently the young tree is placed upon the eonls, where it remains until Christmas morning, which they salute by repeated firings of a pistol. The national dish in Servia is pork. The poorest family in Servia will pinch themselves all through the year so ns to have money enough to buy n pig at Christmas. Skewered to a long piece of wood, the pig is turned over a blazing fire until cooked, the guests watching the process with increasing interest. Af ter dinner stories are told and songs sung. Santa Chius, who, in the person of an honored guest, is present to receive instead of to give presents, departs, af ter the feast, decorated with a long ring of cakes around his neck and laden with such gifts as his friends onn bestow. A Good Riddunco. When the New Year In at the front door peeps. And ont at the back door the Old Year ereepa I hope he will carry away on hts back A load as big as a peddler's pack; And we'll stow away In hts haggnge then Borne things that we never snnlT want again. We will put tn the puckery little pout That drives all the merry dimples out, And the creasy scowls that up and down Fold nice little foreheads right Into a frown; And the little quarrels that spoil the plays, And the little grumbles on rainy days, And the bent-up pins, and the tensing Jokes That never seem funny to other folks; And the stones that are tossed—be sure of that— At robin redbreast and pussy cut. And we'll throw In the bag some rrosa lit tle "don'ts," And most of the "eau'ta" and all of the won'ts," And the grumpy words that should not be said When mamma calls. "It Is time for bed." If we get all these In the Old Year's pack, And shut It so tight that they can't come back. To-morrow morning we'll surely see A Happy New Year for you nnd me. —Youth's Companion. Tough Luck. "After all," »aid the busy merchant, "Christmas comes but once a year." "Yes," rejoined the old man who had seven children and nineteen grandchil dren, "and I'm heartily glad of it." Inherited Mistrust. "Bessie, have you written your letter to Santa Claus?" "Yes, ma; but don't you go an' give it to pa to mail." FIFTY YEARS AGO. Last night they hart a Christmas-tree down at the new church: and A lot of things they dirt, somehow, I couldn't understand— A lot of things new-fangled that we never used to know 'Way hack among those Christmas times of fifty years ago. The preacher rode to meetlri In a new steam wagon which Made auch a racket that It nigh scared Dobbin In the ditch; The sermon fnlrly reeked with words no body e'er heard flow From good old Brother Dan'l Wiggins, fifty years ago. The organ was most wonderful; but then It seemed to me It didn't sound ns rev'rent as It somehow ought to be; lint when they sang "Joy to the World,"— ah, then 1 felt the glow That thrilled my soul those Christmas times of fifty years ago. And through that good old anthem I seemed taken hack once more To where my soul could see across, clear to the golden shore. I Joined and sang. "The Lord Is Cornel Let F.artli Receive Her King! Let Every Heart Prepare 111m Room, Hiid Heaven and Nature Slug!" Ah, 'twas a song to swell the heart! The organ thundered loud And carried grandly heavenward the voices of the crowd; My soul looked out beyond the earth ami saw the gleam and glow Across the walls of Jasper where the living waters flow. And over all 1 heard a voice rise high, nnd ever higher A girl's sweet voice angelic floating down ward from the eholr; Its melody swift tangled .In my tender heart strings so There came to me a vision from that Christ mas long ago. Ah, they were blue ns summer skies — those tender eyes I knew; And ever from their depths I saw love's bright sun shining through Love's sun that shone for me alone straight out of paradise— The paradise that lay within my little sweetheart's eyes. And as the sweet-voiced singer sang, again there entile to me A vision of the old log church, the little , Christmas-tree Ablaze with tiny lights; I heard a voice I used to know And love In those old Christmas times of fifty years ago. I felt her hand upon my arm; I heard the sleigh-bells ring; And through my mind the echoes ran, "Let Heaven and Nature Sing!" I saw again the cedars bend beneath the ebasCnlng snow; Again I felt my aweetheart's kiss of fifty years ago. Sing on for aye, O triumph song! My spirit soars above And Joins an anthem all-dlvlne, a song of purest love. I've easl away the thralls of age, flung off the yoke of time; The mistletoe and holly boughs above us wreathe nnd climb. The song was done. The lights were out. The echoes all were still— The blue eyes once more sleeping on the long-forgotten hill; And I am old ah. very old! and yet my dimming eyes Have caught a gleam prophetic from the gutes of paradise. "Joy to the World!" I quaver o'er the haunting old refrain And smile on through the lonely tears that fall like summer rain; For every year that bowp my head but nearer brings, I know, My love of those old Christmas limes of fifty years ago. —Lowell Otus Reese, in Leslie s Weekly. a is jgffi 1M1I| H E wns old nnd feeble nnd poor—just hits lived too long. Slowly he wend ed bis way down the crowded street un til tie readied that sign which marks the border line of hope and despair for so many human hearts—-the three bulls. Poverty shone from his thremlbi re ooat nml worn shoos, it trembled in bis old lmml, it quivtTiMl in his thin I ps and looked ft uni his groat, th ought fui. lilt igry eyes. Proud blood flushed tl o pallid out tires of the ■Id man as he npprnac ted the broker. More years th in man bus yet lived sot mod weighing upon tin h< wed bead, and not only the deep sot, hungry eyes, Vmt every feature of that patrician old fnoo expressed the humility of de spair. He was facing the hardest trial that comes to the children of men—the self-confession of fniltfre. There, on the pawnbroker's ledger, which, like the roll of the recording an gel, marks the downfall of many a soul and suffering enough to redeem it, was writ the name of this old man, nnd over on the shelf in a rough ease lay his Amati—the child of his old heart, the mistress of his soul. Yes, he had failed, and in the ever active, exacting drama of the world there was no part for him to play. "I haven't any money," admitted the old man. "But it's Christmas eve, and if you will allow me to sit here and lend me my old violin I will play you a Christ mas carol—a rhapsody." There wns a pleading in the old voice that would have opened a harder heart than the keeper of the shop beneath the three golden balls. The night had grown old, and it lacked less than an hour of the day which wns to bring pence to the world. The old musician shivered; it was the cold of the world without and the chill of a heart within that quivered from his very soul. The touch of a loved one brings to life again all the glory of our dead selves. Youth to old age—strength to weakness —light to dull aching eyes—courage, nm bition, love, laughter—all it awakens. Gently the sacred prize wns lifted—rev erently Its keys and strings were touch ed, as the old violinist drew the how tliuf was so perfectly wedded to his mas ter hand. The look in the deep set eyes was less hungry now and the hand was steady again. The hoary old head was no longer bowed It) grief and shame, but drooped to touch the bosom of his love. Out on the night air floated the joyous notes of the "Hosanna, Hosanna to the Highest." Loudly they rang—and then the echo, soft and silvery, quivered a mo ment. It wns the pulse of the soul lurob bing in one magnificent blending of har mony. All the hunger and want and mortifying failure were forgotten, and the soul, young nnd strong in its glory, soared out in the tones of the Christmas anthem. Then for a moment catne the shadow of the present. The face became white again and the old hungry light shone from the eyes anew. Ah, how could he ever have parted with this companion of his bouI tried hours? Food purchased at this pries would choke him now, but hunger fs a persistent foe. It will wring from the heart almost any loved object. You who know' luxury or comfort, who have never felt poverty's heaviest enrse —real, desperate, despairing, aching hun ger—may not see thiB truth, but there is nothing under God's heaven that twists the heart into distorted shapes, destroys ideals and compels us to surrender that which our hearts would bleed for under any other conditions like hunger. Its fire strikes into the heart nnd brain, and breaks a spirit which could face any oth er ideal, and so the violin had lain silent for many days. Again the bow was drawn, though age had crept up to palsy the feeble limbs. Softly the "Miserere" moaned from the violin. "Ah, 1 have sighed to rest me, deep in a silent grave," gently trembled the melody, while In a minor key the ob ligato sent forth its wail. Wonderfully, sad flowed tlie music from the old violin. Then, as the cathedral chimes rang out tin tidings that a Christmas day was horn, the "Gloria in Exeelsis Deo" rushed forth in one magnificent soulburst from the strings of the violin. The old hand was firm and stipple now; inspiration shone from the aged face. "Glory to God on high"—the tones seemed to soar beyond the sad old world — upward, upward until it seemed to touch the star studded dome and beyond to the throne most high. "Pence on earth'"—the benediction seemed to strike into every soul. The battle for earthly gain—the selfish pas sions, the heartaches and sins—all, all were forgotten—pence, peace on earth. Fainter nnd fainter trembled the last glnd notes. The snowy old head rested against the loved Amati. The face was as white a9 the Christmas snow without—but the lips smiled. Peace on onrth—peace, pence to the soul that slumbers.—New York Her« aid. HISTORIC CHRISTMAS nml in mho. OJI ('ll ristmns e»\ o. Elin burgh s urromle rod to 'roll we 11. On Dec, 22, HISS. James 11. ('son 10.1 to France, leaving Judge Jeffrey s to tie * f if safety to the Tower ii ml Oil lei . 2.8. lti! >4. Mary Stuart, w i fo of Wl llin m, diet]. compai ntively young. Ol Dec. 22, 1715, the old Proton 1er landed at Pc tershead. and, o triously in 1 745. it wns during Noteworthy Occurrences During the Holiday Reason. While no event comparable with th« event of all events in the history of tbs world which is commemorated by all Christendom on Dee. 25 has ever takelt pince on or about that day. it has never theless marked the occurrence of not a few noteworthy deeds and other hal>;veil ings in the annals of onr race. Some of these things have been of that happy and propitious character in keeping with th» spirit of the time Itself, and others have been quite the reverse of this. Among what may be regarded as joyous events taking place on Christmas day, or there abouts. may lie included the coronation' of William the Conqueror, which took place on Dec. 25. lOtM». In tlie sam» category we would place the lauding of the Pilgrims, which occurred only fonr days before Christmas, in 1(120. Th» same happy season, in 1841, witnessed the ratification of the quintuple alliant'» for suppressing the slave trade. But, strange to sny, occurrences of a sad and tragical nature seem to have been more common on Christmas than any other notable events. During thé fourteenth century there were three dra matic Christmases. In 1548 the black death wajt raging. In 1384 the persecu tion of Wycliue was rapidly bringing on that paralytic stroke by which he died on' Dec. 81. Saddest perhaps of all was the Christmas spent by Isabelle, Dow ager Queen of Edward 11., in Castle Uising, where she remained a prisoner for the next twenty-seven years of lier life. For the Stuarts of England Christmas sometimes breathed a tragedy. Mary, Queen of Scots, was born on Dec. 8, Eight days later she was hurried off to France, Immediately after the death of her father, James V,, on the 15th. Dur ing December, 1(144. Si out-rose opened bis fruitless campaign in Scotland; on Dec. 25. t(l4S. Charles 1. made his last tnniirn Deccmber that the campaign opened in Cumberland.—Philadelphia Ledger. MEXICAN CUSTOMS. Visiting and Giving Presents the Feat ures of Yulcttde. A series of festivities beginning nine days before Christmas and ending on Christmas eve marks the Yuletide cele bration in Mexico. lu n circle of friends! it is arranged that nine visits shull bet paid to nine different houses. Eactf evening's gayety begins with prayer and the lighting of candles. These are fol lowed by the presentation of a gift from each guest to the host or hostess of thq evening. The first evening's gift is ofl small worth, but the value of the offering Increases with every succeeding evening. That there may he nothing unfair in th« distribution, the recipient of the firsti evening's offering one year becomes th« last, the following year. After the pre sentation there are dancing and supper* At midnight the candles are extinguish ed. No two evenings' entertainments ar« exactly alike save in the offering of pray ers, the lighting of candles nnd the pre senting of gifts. On Christmas eve, m few minutes before midnight, all proceed to church to hear the midnight mass, and this ends the Christmns celebration for the year. Good Tbiug, Too. The Christmas Tree—It is sträng« that children are so green as to believ« itt the existence of a Snnta Clans. The Christmas Candle (sputteringly)—* But they are not evergreen.—Woman's Home Companion. Santa Claus in the Philippines. m Ik Santa—Say, young fellers, I can over look the absence of chimneys, but yog must have stockings.