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Mining SS3Bf Journal.
J. BENSON ODER, Editor FORTY-SECOND YEAR. NO. 13 j DR. LINDEN’S I i; CHRISTMAS 1 < . if • • X *’ ■ • Romance That Had Its Beginning • • In a Child’s Promise h :: :: ;! By CLARISSA MACKIE % ' nti .y. ,t,,i. ,i, i| t, x ,t ,t 'I, * t 1 ■:■* * Dr. Linden passed down the chil dren’s ward between the rows of little white beds Now and then he paused to smile down into a wistful face or to tweak a little ear, but his objective point was the bed at the end of the row wheye the western sunlight streamed aross the white counterpane and made a golden space for Cicely’s thin fingers to play in. Cicely smiled up into the doctor’s handsome face, her brown eyes alight with affection. "I’ve been waiting for you,” she an nounced as he sat down beside the bed and took one of her little, clawlike hands In his own large, warm grasp. He lifted his eyebrows in mock ter ror. “What have I done?” he asked, glancing down at the watch In his palm. "Look at me,” she commanded, and slowly, triumphantly, she lifted her close' cropped sunny head from the pillow and sat upright, watching his eyes for a look of delighted surprise. She was not disappointed. Cicely Auge was never disappointed in Dr. Linden. He always did the right thing —the. very thing you expected of him. "Wonderful!” cried the doctor as he placed a firm hand and supported the weak little back to its place among the pillow's once more. “You’re the best patient I ever had. Cicely. One day you tell me that you will be able to sit up w’lthin a certain time, and when that time comes you do sit up.” ■ Dr. Linden appeared as surprised at the little girl’s performance as If he had not received a favorable report of her condition from the nurse at the door. “I just made up my mind I’d sur prise you by sitting up today, and so I sat up,” said Cicely proudly, al though the effort had removed every vestige of color-that-had crept into her cheeks at his approach. "I do lots of things that way.” ' "Dear mej” cried the doctor again. "Yes, and I’d do most anything to please you, Dr. Linden,” went on Cice ly, watching him with shining eyes. "Then you must hurry and get en tirely well.” “I am trying hard, but it’s kind of slow work,” she said wistfully. All at once her charming-face broke Into a lovely shy smile; “I’m—l’m going to marry you when I grow up. Dr. I,in den, if you don’t mind,”, she ended. Dr. Linden flushed, while the nurse smiled primly. “I -don’t mind,” he as sured the child gravely. “I am much honored, and I shall wait for you.”' “Oh, shall—you?” murmured Cicely sleepily. "Well, I’ll— there some day.” And the daifc lashes lay on her cheeks an<f she; slept. < Dr. Linden watched her thoughtful ly ere he arose and gave-a few parting directions to the nurse. As he left the hospital and rolled uptown in his mo torcar his thoughts were busy with the problem of tire -lovely; child he -had Just left- Four Weeks before Cicely Auge hadl.beeh brought to. the hos ■"Vi.sin, “I’H GOING TO MARRY YOU WHEN I GROW UP.” pital In..an ambulance, .quite uncon scious; from injuries received in a run-- away accident. It seems that Cicely had been walk ing In the paTk with her nurse when a runaway horse had suddenly dashed across the turf and trampled upon her. The nurse had fled and the child, her identity, quite unknown, had been tak en to the hospital, where as days pass ed by no one came to claim her, nor were there any inquiries for her. No body by the name of Auge could be found to identify the beautiful child. John Linden had quite lost his heart to Cicely Auge, and he had arranged a home for her with an old couple whom he knew when she should be dis charged from the hospital. All this was in case no one came to claim the child. But a few days ago Cicely’s memory had returned to her and she had Informed the day nurse that her parents were in England and that she had been staying with her grandmoth er, whose name was Stevens and who lived In a beautiful house on Fifth avenue. So this very afternoon as Dr. John Linden rode up Fifth avenue where kn was to receive a catle message sum moning him to Germany, where his father had suffered a stroke of paraly sis, Cicely Auge’s grandmother, Mrs. Becket Stevens, was being driven fran tically toward the hospital in search of the child who had been missing four w’eeks, together with the cowardly nurse who had fled after the accident. The next morning Dr. Linden board ed ship for Hamburg, while the hos pital ambulance carefully removed his trstwhile patient. Cicely Ange, to her grandmother’s luxuriously appointed home. Cicely cried all the way home and refused to be comforted because she could not see Dr. Linden again. Long years came and went, and still Dr. Linden remembered the little girl who had come so strangely Into his life and had so quickly vanished, leaving a deep Impress on his memory. Why was It that the face of a child with whom he had been associated but a few weeks should so often appear In his thoughts? Of course she was a young woman now and If youthful promise were fulfilled must be beautiful. Sometimes he wondered if intervening years had obliterated her experience in the hospital and had wiped out all recollection of the doctor in whom she had so much childish confidence. The memory of childhood is fleeting and indistinct, and serious things leave but small impression. He was sure somehow that she could not wholly forget, for she was unusually bright and possessed of a mind far beyond her years. Thus the years passed for Dr. Linden. **•**.*• Dr. Linden sat beside the fire on Christmas eve and felt very lonely. The snow was filling the city’s streets, and the people, hurrying to and fro bent upon last holiday shopping, loom ed large through the fast falling flakes. The electric lights on the corners cast an orange hued glow through the white mist of flakes and failed to penetrate the gloom of the doctor’s front door step. The doctor was a lonely man. In faraway Germany all his people had been gathered to their forefathers and he had returned to his new home in America with a sense of great desola tion. He was a famous physician; he had a large practice; he possessed hosts of friends; he was rich beyond any cause for anxiety if he chose to close his office this Christmas eve, yet he was unhappy and very lonesome. "What in thunder ails me?” he mut tered to himself as he shook his brond shoulders and paced the room back and forth. "It must be because I am so much alone—ln the home—l need a wife,” he said under his, breath as If afraid some one might be listening. "I heed a wife,” he said, a little more boldly, “and children, of course. I wouldn’t be lonesome then —by thun der, no!” He laughed musically. "I’d have to hustle for a living too. They’d have to be put to schools and colleges and married, of course—the dear kin der!” He laughed again at the Idea of his planning for children who were yet uuborn, but there were tears In his handsome eyes. "1 might adopt one,” he mused again after a long while, "If I could only find another child that attracted me as did that little Cicely of the hos pital. How I did fancy the little one! And she said she was going to marry me some day!” He smiled Into the heart of the fire at the recollection of Cicely and her charming ways. "Queer how the people at the hospital failed to find any record of her arrival and departure, and I have forgotten her name. I wonder what she would say If she knew I had investigated every 'Cicely I ever heard about In the hope of finding her?” He heard the doorbell tinkle faintly and the slow, cautious footsteps of his fat butler, Franz, as he went down the polished floor of the hall. A woman's soft voice raised In in quiry was followed by the closing of the door. The bass tones of Franz were objecting to something, but cens ed at a word of command. Dr. Linden looked toward the door as It was quick ly opened and closed to admit a tall, slender, youthful form clad in a long pale gray cloak trimmed with some dark fur. A gray chiffon veil was twisted about a small hat and quite hid the features from view, although the doctor could see that his visitor was young and possessed of a rose tinted complexion. Dr. Linden arose from his chair and awaited the approach of the girl, for she seemed scarcely more than that He was vexed with Franz for not an nouncing the visitor. It was far be yond his usual office hours, and this room was his private apartment The girl looked around the luxurious ly appointed room with a surprised start Her glance lingered on Dr. Lin den's handsome face with Its pointed brown beard and slightly graying hair. “I am afraid there Is some mistake,’’ she faltered at last "What can I do for you?” asked the doctor courteously, placing a chair for her near his own. "You are Dr. Linden—of course you ' are! But what did they mean by telling me that—that”— She paused In evident confusion and looked down, and he saw that her arms clasped a varied assortment of bundles. “Perhaps you better explain,” he sug gested. i “I wanted to see Dr. Linden,” she said frankly, “so I telephoned to a hospital with which he was once con nected, and they told me he had not been known there for ten years. Some one volunteered the information that he had suffered a stroke of paralysis from overwork and was a helpless crip ple and in greatly straitened clr . rumstanees. I found his address in the directory, came here and found you. 1 You are Dr. Linden?" A pair of big (brown eyes shone through the gray i ; veil. FRO STETIRG, MR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1912 “Yes, of course I am Dr. Linden, but I do not understand what they meant by my being ill—unless they misunder stood your question and referred to a Dr. Weldon who has recently suffered a stroke and who has met with finan cial reverses. I have just come from his bedside. He lives In Brooklyn.” “Oh, dear!” cried the girl with a little trembling laugh. ”1 understood them to say It was you who was 111 and In trouble, and I wanted to do something for you. You were so kind to me years ago. I have never forgotten. We ar rived in America only yesterday from England, and. oh. Dr. Linden, what will you think of me? I've brought soup and blankets and slippers and to bacco —and everything!” She tossed the bundles down on the sofa and tore off her veil to reveal the beautiful face of Cicely Auge, the lit tle child he had been dreaming about that evening. Crown to a glorious young womanhood, through some freak of the fates the misunderstanding with the hospital people had resulted In an abridgment of a ceremonious meeting between them. There could be no "I’VB BROUGHT SOUP AND BLANKETS AND SLIPPERS AND TOBACCO.” strangeness or embarrassment after their mutual hearty laugh at Cicely’s expense. Cicely Auge only stayed five min utes. She confessed that she had stolen away from the hotel to pay this visit to her old friend and must hurry back before her parents became alarm ed. "I would never have dared to come If I had not supposed you to be poor and humble.” she laughed gayly as he placed her In her taxicab. "Christmas eve Is a lonely time when one Is feeling down.” Her face changed to one of warm sympathy. "Yon will send those things on to Dr. Weldon?” she asked, forgetting that her hand was in his. She bad thought of Dr. Linden during all the years of her growing up, and he had been her ideal hero. And he was a worthy one too. "No, Cicely,” said the doctor firmly. "Those things were brought to me. and I shall keep them, every one, in memory of the best patient I ever had. But I will duplicate the gifts tomor row and take them to Weldon myself. I wonder if I may call upon your mother too?” "Ah, do!” she murmured, leaning back In the cab. "A merry Christmas to you. Dr. Linden, and many beauti ful glftß.” "Thank you, wish me no more gifts. Cicely. I have received one far great er than I ever hoped to receive." He dropped her hand and watched the cab as It rolled down the avenue. Back In his study once more. Dr. Linden stood before the hearth and 3tniled warmly around upon the empty chairs and sofas. "Please God,” he murmured rever ently, “another Christmas and there will be no loneliness! There will be the wife If Cicely loves me and keeps that old promise!” Cicely Auge did keep her promise. Antiquity of Porto Rioo. Ethnologists have reason for think ing that Porto Rico and the adjoining islands may have been peopled from the valley of the Orinoco instead of from Yucatan. When first occupied by man Porto Rico may have been a part of a peninsula connected with South America. Its fauna and flora are of the South American type, and It con tains relics of a forgotten race which show evidence of a high grade of cul ture. Few traces of these aborigines are now ft) be found except In the inte rior of the Island. Among the curious remains are stone Inclosed plazas on which ceremonial dances were per formed. The remains of carved idols and pottery show no small degree of skill and taste. No traces of stone buildings resembling those of the Ma yas are found, but the houses are of the South American type. The manner of disposing of the dead also resembled that practiced in the valley of the Ori noco.—Exchange. Couldn't Change. Seventy-nine pairs of shoes had been shown to the stout customer and still he wasn’t suited. Producing the eightieth, the shop as sistant said blandly: “Now. here’s a pair which I think will suit you to perfection.” The customer eyed them closely and then said: “No; 1 don’t like them. They are too narrow and pointed in the toes.” “But, sir,” said the assistant In a last desperate effort, “everybody is wearing these long, narrow pointed i toes this season.” “May be.” said the stout man quiet ly. "but I’m still wearing my last sea son’s feet.”—Loudon Answers. A N I INDEPENDENT NEWSPAPER The Spirit of Christmas. We speak of the joys of Christmas, but what do the words convey If the true, sweet Christmas spirit does not in our hearts hold sway ? If a table of costly presents is all the day will hold, Then we lose the inner vision, and our hearts are empty, cold ! There’s a beautiful joy in giving that nothing else can bring If the giver’s heart goes with the gift; but O, the bitter sting And mockery of Christmas—how devoid of love and cheer If we spend the day transferring the gifts we received last year ! Let us give with the Christmas spirit, and not because we owe ! Let our gifts be love’s own tokens—given not for pomp or show ! Be it only a card, or letter —let it bear the Christmas cheer, And the message of love it carries will bring the Christ-Child near. We are not all blessed with riches to give as our hearts dictate ; But we have what is far more precious, and held at higher rate : ’Tis love for the Christmas-Baby, and love for our fellow-men, And the joy that love diffuses may be far beyond our ken. How easy to say “I love you how easy to give a smile ;. — If the heart is in the greeting, ’tis a gift that is worth while. Just the magic “Merry Christmas” thrills us with a glad delight, And the greeting brings a vision of that holy, holy night! God gave a gift that starry night of infinite, priceless worth— ’Twas Himself He gave His people in that wondrous sweet new birth ! Let us give, as did the wise men to the Child sent from above, Being filled with the Christmas spirit, whose beautiful name is Love 1 Sara Roberta Getty. 1882 1912 T | THIRTY YEARS AGO. | J The Items Below Were Current During T Week Ending December 30, 1882. c A correspondent gave the Journal the recorded data of the first convey ance of the tract of land known as “Pumpkin Hall,” now the property of the New York Mining Company, in cluding the village of Morantown, “just below Allegany.” The tract contained about 1,000 acres, on 300 acres of which Abraham Workman lives; 200 acres on the south side of Jennings’ Run, near the deer-licks; 200 acres more about a mile above Abraham Workman; 100 acres about a half mile west of said Workman, be ing improved by Andrew Workman; 100 acres on the east side of the fork of Jenning’s Run, whereot Stephen O. Workman had begun to clear, and also the remaining 100 acres all lying in the county (Frederick) now Alle gany. The first mention of this tract was made in the grant to Charles, Lord Baltimore, great-grandfather of noble memory of this grantor, Septem ber 12, 1712, and ratified in the will of said grantor dated December 15, 1738. Charles Carroll of Carrollton, later one of the conspicuously brave sign ers of the Declaration of Independ ence, was the great grand-son of the first grantor, and from him the title passed to Normand Bruce April 6, 1767. The amount of purchase not given, but Mr. Bruce was required to pay “in our city of St. Mary’s, at the two most usual feasts of the year—the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and St. Michaal, the Archangel, by even and equal portions 5 shillings and pence Sterling, silver or gold. Given under the Great Seal of the Province ot Maryland November 4, 1768, and witnessed by Horatio Sharpe, Esq., Lieutenant-General and Chief Governor. The Workmans mentioned were the ancestors of those of that Stop at Frostburg. Ah, Santa Claus, fond greetings ! Whither away, old top ? Pause ; have a pipe ; you’re tired ; tell us of the year’s crop Of wares for the good—or lucky. What 1 off so soon ? So long— But say, old man, stop at Frostburg ! I’m for that place strong : Stop in to see the Journal ; give cheer to the “young old man.” Stop for awhile at the Betz’s and “give my regards” to Dan. Tarry awhile at the Gladstone ; if it’s cold you may crave “a nip Cuddle close to the radiator, and leave the rest to “Chip.” Jump out to Bowery Furnace; stop on John O. Winters’ estate;— His family you’ll find in re-union—everyone of them “straight.” And don’t forget Jim Howat—he taught me to play the “fuddle,” Which, he says, “is no’ hard, but ken ye it’s tha beer ’at sets qne a-muddle.” And, say—“take a tip from father”—make a call on the Elks—be wise, For that’s where they harbor reindeers, and they’ll welcome you, I surmise. And don’t forget Rudy Nickel —he’ll give you a “puff” in the News — A “puff” without regard whatever to your pugilistic views. Or if you wish your name to appear among the “Grievance-Club’ rhymes, Go “Where Many Waters Meet” and see Garnet Willie of the Times. Then “Back Again to Frostburg,” according to “The Bentztown Muse,” Pay your respects to Jeff Davis, and leave seveii pairs of shoes. Then there’s Will and Annie Thomas, late of'“Quality Row Call to see them and their children —you’ll get a warm welcome, I know. And while you’re at it, see the Hockings ; leave Nick a comb and a brush, For he is the town’s vocal artist ; ’tis said he compares with the thrush. Then pay your respects to the Prices—and Owen Corporate, too bad The way he is wasting away ! to see him will make you feel sad. Give cheer to the Arion Band, and give my regards to Will Dailey, And if your oesophagus’s ailing, call in and see Doc DeNaouley. Then drop into see Father Cuddy, who nicely “placed” me in a pew, For he is “a prince of good fellows I like him real well—so will you. And, Santa, old top, there are others—probably eight thousand more In Frostburg whom I’d recommend for a goodly share of your store. But I cannot impose on the Journal by taking too much of it’s space ; So now, en route dispensing good cheer, don’t forget —Frostburg's the place ! C. B. Ryan. Died. At the family home, in Eckhart, Wednesday, December 11, 1912, Mrs. Louis B. Connor, aged 47 years. Hus band, 4 daughters and 4 sons bereaved. Christmas Thought. | The world is not a play-ground; it is a school-room. [ Life is not a holiday, but an educa j tion. —Henry Drummond. name living in this vicinity, and it was believed that Normand Bruce was also an ancestor of that AUegany county family. G. W. Shuckhart wrote the Journal of great deposits of coal lying in the valley between Barrelville, this coun ty, and Wellersburg, Pa., and it was his opinion that the two 5-foot seams he had examined specifically, 96 feet apart, were but a few feet below the bore reached by A. C. Greene at Bor den. He thought Mr. Greene stopped a trifle short of reaching the end he was seeking. Mrs. F. Jandorf advertised for re turn of “two misses gray coats, taken by mistake or otherwise from her store also for “return of a small table, taken from the front of the store.” Value of coats $8 ; table $1.50. At the bazaar in Lonaconing for the benefit of the Fire Department of that place, a silver cup was awarded to Harmon Schaidt’s baby as the finest in the baby-show, Friday, December 29,1882. Miss Lizzie Wolf, aged 21 years, daughter of the late Charles Wolf, of this vicinity, died Friday, December : 29, 1882. The New York World observed that “Miss Susan B. Anthony never wore a shoe that pinched her,” but forgot to state that Miss Anthony was not a native of Cumberland. “Cold wave coming.” ; The purchase of the “Uncle Tom” Jameson farm, a few miles east of , Cumberland, for $17,000, by William R. Percy, was reported. Charles A. Riggs, formerly of this ! place, died at Leland, Texas, Satur day, December 23, 1882, of consump : tion. Winter Forecasts. ’ Two goose-bone prodictions are out — 1, Weather mild up to holidays; . afterward—severe cold, with several blizzards. 2, The cold portion of the winter t will not come much before New Year; mild weather in February, and a big - blast of cold in March will complete the season’s series. Sr ME FOR GOOD THINGS IN g Diamonds Jewelry 1 Silverware 1 *oods. Satisfaction guaranteed or $| refunded. All engraving free. ESLIE I reler and Graduate Optician § (■Next to Otto Hohin* R Sons) FrCStbUrg, Md. B A Pretty pat! Just the thing for a Xmas gift. We have a varied as sortment. 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