Newspaper Page Text
Wv ev. 'VE scarcely done a stitch of work The whole de lightful day I us to proud to set tle down Into the old time way. TMs grandma's Christmas from the boys It makes me young again. With all the little ones at play, And ne'er an ache or xaln. First cftme Dan's Nell, with precious KiftS From all the neighbors near Each sent a note with wishes sweet, 'Twould do you good to hear. This easy-chair's from Brother Tom Jack sent this fur-lined hood And here's Bob's check from Michigan, For winter's coal and wood. And let me see—gold spectacles! From Dorothy, Dick's lass They say she's famous as a belie- To think it's come to pass That Dick, my boy, my youngest one, Forever swapping things, Should be a magnate in the land. One o' them railroad kings. This box is labeled "from the kids"— They live in Idaho— A pair of silver candlesticks! I wonder if they know How often by the hickory fire I've spun both wool and thread, And only lighted candles, when We went upstairs to bed. They never in their modern home Worked as their grandpa did, Who wore the sheep's rough skin and wool, And dined upon the kid: They want me, too, but bless their hearts, I couldn't live their way: I'm used to this old fireplace. And here I mean to stay. I'm used to every homely thing Hallowed by smile and tear I couldn't leave to stranger hands What love has made so dear I'm fond of my old rocking-chair. Though brother's gift is fine, For there once laid the silver hair, That changed as fast as mine. And down the road a little way, Then up the hillside steep. I almost see the granite cross Where "father" lies asleep Bo here I rest and haply, when Old Santa comes this way, He brings a whole year's happiness, Wrapped in a single day. —Mary A. Denison, in Ladies' World, New York. Belafe Ci\risimds. "N O, I AIN'T go in' to make any Christ a a id Airs. Bennett, decisively, as she poured out her husband's second cup of tea. "The Lord ain't good to us, and I don't feel called upon to act as if I thought He was." "Why, Hannah, how you talk," and Samuel Bennett set his cup down so suddenly that some of the tea spilled over upon the table. "It sounds kind o' sacrilegious." "I can't help it if it does. There! you've slopped your tea on the table cloth. Why ain't you careful?" "You kind o' s'prised me, sayin* that, and—" "Surprised you, did I?" and Mrs. Bennett wiped up the spilled tea vvith a cloth taken from the sink near at hand. "I don't know's I said any thing so very terrible. I guess it ain't no worse than actin' out a lie, tryin' ti have a Christmas when you don't feel it." "But the Lord is good to us, Han nah. They's a lot of folks worse off'n we be." "Then I'm sorry for 'em, Sam Ben nett. Look at us. We ain't had noth ing but bad luck this whole year Don't talk to me. It's settled." Samuel Bennett knew his wife too well to. argue the question, so he left her and went out to do the "chores," while she went glumly about the task of washing the supper dishes. But in the old man's heart, as he went out to feed the cow and fix the mare's stall for the night, was the lrjiely feeling of a disappointed ch: He liked Christmas. He had i»'\v:iys looked forward to it with pleasurable an ticipation, although for many years the day had not meant so very much to him. But he had taken delight in trimming up the plain rooms of the little farmhouse with evergreens, and he always had managed to give Han nah a little present, while she had never failed to remember him with some useful product of her own handiwork. But these humble gifts were real treasures to him, for he measured them in love's own balance, and their brightness was a reflection of the effulgent Christmas glory. He and Hannah were alone in the world, their only child having died in in fancy. But they had been happy to gether and fairly prosperous, until within the past year. During this time, Samuel, as he ex pressed it, had "lost his holt." One thing after another had happened to 'discourage him and set him back. First, his horse died, leaving only the rather decrepit old mare to help him in his field work then crops had failed. Never before had his few acres of ground yielded so sparingly, and the fruit trees were never so •barren. Along about harvest time, as if to complete his misfortune, he was taken ill and for weeks was un able to work, while a doctor's bill ac ctimul.ued. He was obliged to hire a man to do the work, and the farm produced hardly enough to pay for these services. This had all put him behind, and now, in the latter part of December, he seemed to have every reason to be discouraged. But it was Hannah who had given up. He woilld still have 'been hopeful and looked on the bright side, but for her. She grumbled. "I feel awful kind o' bad not to have any Christmas," confided Samuel to the mare, as he laid the straw for her bed. "I know things ain't so bright, but Hannah hadn't ought to feel so. It might be worse. I guess we can pull through. But then, it'll have to be as Hannah says. If she won't have no Christmas, I fcan't." He felt like crying in his disappoint ment. Samuel Bennett was old enough to be getting a bit childish. In the house, Mrs. Bennett was put ting away the supper dishes in no amiable frame of mind. "I don't care," she muttered, "what he thinks. I ain't said a word but the truth. How we'll ever get along this winter, I don't know. Starve, mebby. The idea o' making a fusr about Christ- mas when you ain't got a thing cheeF ful to look ahead to! No, I ain't a going to do it. Sam can make the best of it. I mean what I say." That evening there was nothing further said about Christmas be tween the farmer and his wife. By nine o'clock they were in bed. It was Tuesday night and Thursday would be the holiday. As he lay there, Mr. Bennett wondered what he should do with the 50 cents which he had saved up to buy his wife a present. With no Christmas, of course there could be no present. He fell asleep, sad dened by the thought. The day "before Christmas was bright and clear. There had been a generous fall of snow during the night and everything out of doors was covered with the pure white mantle. Samuel Bennett was out shoveling paths when the expressman drove along, with a well-filled sleigh. "Hello, there!" shouted the driver, cheerily. "Merry Christmas, Sam! It's a little ahead of time, I know, but I may not see you again." "Thanks. The same to you," an swered Samuel, leaning on his snow shovel. "Got lots of bundles, ain't you "Yes everybody's got something." "That so? Ain't come to ours yet, have you?" The poor old man chuckled at his own pitiable little at tempt at a joke. "No, not yet," was the merry an swer from the sleigh. "I'll bring that around to-morrow, most likely. Well, good-by. G'lang!" and on sped the sleigh with its jingling bells. "I guess he won't, though," mused the other, as he fell to work shovel ing again. "'Tain't likely we'll get anything. There ain't nobody to send it to us, that I know of." And Hannah, looking out of the window, echoed his thought with one still more doleful. "Everybody'll get something but us," she mused. "I guess Christmas was intended for rich folks. Nobody gets th£t ain't got." That afternoon about three o'clock, a muffled-up little form trudged through the snow and up the road to the Bennetts' farmhouse. "Why, Amy Darrow, what you do ing here in all this snow?" exclaimed Mrs. Bennett, as she opened the door and saw the little girl standing on the steps. "Come right in before you freeze." "Oh, Mis' Bennett," said the shiver ing child, in a voice choked with tears, "won't you come right over to our house? Ma's awful sick." "Is that so? What's the matter? Yes, I'll go right over." "It's one of her bad spells, only worse," wailed Amy. "She says she don't know but she'll die." "Oh, I guess itrain't as bad as that," said Mrs. Bennett, kindly. "Don't you be scart. Sam!" She was at the woodshed door now. "Hitch up the mare right off. I've got to go over to Mis' Darrow's. She's sick." Samuel dropped an armful of wood and hastened toward the barn. In less than 15 minutes the old-fash ioned cutter was at the door, Amy was tucked in between the farmer and his wife, and they were off as f»»-»t as the wheezy mare could con veniently carry them. Mrs. Bennett had her medicine bottles under her shawl. She was said by her neighbors to be "about as good as a doctor." The Darrows lived half a mile or more from the Bennetts, farther on away from the village, which was nearly two miles from the Bennett farm. Mrs. Darrow was suffering Xr^sf' .»•&, JUST LIKE SANTA CLAUS. y\?T8&&l ,'W from a chill when her neighbor en tered, and there was no fire in the house. Two children, smaller than ten-year-old Amy, were shivering on the bed with their mother. "Ain't there no fire?" exclaimed Mrs. Bennett. "My sakes! This weather,v too. said I couldn't cut the wood," Amy. "It's all big sticks." Mrs. Bennett lost no time in giving the sick woman some of her home made cordial, and Samuel soon had a fire blazing in the kitchen stove. The heat gradually crept into the .adjoin ing bedroom. "You're so good," sighed the podr woman on the bed. "I felt so bad I had to do something, and there wasn't a thing but to send for you, Mis' Bennett. It was so far to go for the doctor, and—" "Which wasn't necessary," inter rupted Mrs. Bennett. "I guess you feel some better now, don't you?" "Yes that medicine seemed to start my,heart again. I thought it would just stop beating, one spell." "I guess you'll be all right now," said Mrs. Bennett, comfortingly. Her naturally kind heart had been touched by the sight of some one else in distress, and she forgot herself in ministering to another. "It was good of you to come oyer," continued Mrs. Darrow. "I'm afraid it will spoil your Christmas. You must have been getting ready for it, seeing it's Christmas eve." "Don't you worry. It ain't bother in' me a bit," responded Mrs. Ben nett. i' But something was bothering her. It was something in her heart that almost sent a moisture to her eyes.. But she choked it down. "You need something to eat," she said, "some tea and toast. And these children must be half starved." "I'm afraid there ain't much to get," said Mrs. Darrow, feebly. "I don't know as there's anything but a little bread." "Well, that'll make toast." Mrs. Bennett' knew that Widow Darrow was poor, but she never had known .that the family were so desti tute as she found them to be, this day before Christmas. "It's dreadful,*' she thought, as she searched the bare cupboard. "They're jest starvin'." A moment later she was saying private ly to her husband: "Sam, you go home and get a loaf of bread and some of that tea. Then you get a pat of butter and a little ham and hurry right back with it. They're all starv in', sure's I'm born. I guess that's what ails Mis' Darrow. Now you hurry." "Yes, Hannah." The old mare seemed to realize that she was on an errand of mercy, and actually quickened her pace. It was not long before Mrs. Dar row had her toast and tea, and the children were enjoying what to them was a bountiful feast. It was dark when Mr. and Mrs. Bennett left for home. As they were riding along, Mrs. Bennett said: "Sam!" "Yes, Hannah." "Them children have hung up their stockin's." "Have they? Poor little things!" "But, Sam, there won't be any thing1 in 'em. They think there's a Santy Claus." "I wish there was," sighed her hus band. "But there ain't," answered prac tical Mrs. Bennett, "and there won't be one thing in them stockin's, unless it's holes. Mis' Darrow cried about it. It's too bad." There was silence for a moment, then Mrs. Bennett continued: "Sam, there must be something put in 'em." "How can they, Hannah?" "Well, I guess there can. You go down to the store and get something. I guess we can spare a little." "I've got—" Samuel interrupted, and then he paused, almost afraid to tell the rest. He had always been a bit afraid of his wife. "Well, what have you got?" "Fifty cents, Hannah. I kind o* saved it up, along, to buy you a—a Christmas present, but—" "I don't want no present. That'll buy some candy and a few trinkets for them children. Then, while you're gone to the store, Til pop some corn, and there's some red apples. You can go over and fill them stockings." "Jest like Santy Claus," said the old man, delighted. The thought warmed his kind old heart anew, and the Christmas spirit within him be gan to revive. That evening, tremu IJIj^T^WJi K^^f»e» i* lous with joy, he filled the little stockings that hung in a row in the bare kitchen of the Darrow house, left a whole pumpkin pie in the cup* board, and went home, leaving a promise to come again in the morning and see how the mother and children were getting along. Mrs. Darrow was much better. She said she thought she would be able to get up in the morning. Christmas morning, as soon as they had had their breakfast, Mr. and Mrs. Bennett again drove over to the Dar rows'. They found the mother sit ting up, happy with her children over their humble gifts. They had been sure that Santa Claus would bring them something, and he had not be trayed their childish confidence. "I declare," said Samuel Bennett, when he and his wife weTe again in the cutter, on their way home, "it seems kind o' Christmasy, after all." "I don't know but it does," admit ted Hannah. "I've kind o' made up my mind we ain't the worst off ever was, after qll." She was learning the true lesson of Christmas time—that it is doing for "the least Of these" that gives the deepest joy. But she was still to find the fuller happiness of that Christmas day. "Land!" she exclaimed, as they neared the house. "There's the ex pressman in front of our gate. What can he want?" "I don't know," replied Samuel. "It can't be anything for us." But it was. "I brought your package," called the expressman, "only it's a box." The mysterious box was soon car ried into the house and opened. It was generous in size, and as the cov er came off it was found to be well filled. "Here's a letter, Sam. Open it." Samuel Bennett opened the letter, which bore his name, and read it wonderingly. It said: "Dear Uncle: I guess you have forgotten me, but I am still alive and prosperous. As Christmas approached, I thought of you and Aunt Hannah, as the only living relatives I have, and I send you something to make you think of me." There was further explanation, and then the letter ended with: "Now, Uncle Samuel, if you need any assist ance, let me know. I shall be glad to help you. I have plenty and to spare, and if I can do anything for you it will be a blessing to me. Write to me soon. Your affectionate nephew, John Bennett." "My brother Henry's boy," said Samuel. W'I Tt never knew what had be come of him. Ain't jit queer?" "Queer?" said Hannah, feelingly. "I call it a Godsend. And to think I grumbled and found fault with the Lord. Wasn't I wicked?" And then she sat down and began to weep. "Don't, Hanna! Tain't nothin' to cry over. You didn't mean it, and the Lord'll forgive you. Let's take the things out of the box." There were many beautiful gifts for both of them, John Bennett had shown his liberality when he packed the Christmas box. "Sam," remarked Mrs. Bennett, when they had examined and won dered at the last article, and the box had been removed to the woodshed, "I wonder if you couldn't go and get a few evergreens. We might trim up a little." "Of course, I could," answered Sam uel, radiantly. "It ain't far to the woods, and the snow ain't deep there. I could get some in no time." "Then you get some. And while you're gone, I'll go to work and get the best dinner I can. We'll have a Christmas, if it is a kind of a late one." "Oh, Hannah," cried the delighted old man, with a suspicious shake in his voice, "you make me so happy." "I feel that way myself, Sam," she replied. Then she did something which she had not done before in many years. She went up to her husband and ldssed him. He, surprised into silent ecstacy, blushed like a boy, as he went out after the evergreens. That kiss was the sweetest Christ mas gift he had ever received.—N. Y. Observer. NOT FAVORABLY IMPRESSED. Simmons—Do you know his wife Kimmons—Only through some ci gars she' gave him Christmas.—Town Topics. Christmas with the Danes. In many countries the Christmas feast formerly lasted from two to three weeks, and it was believed that the angels partook of the eat thly food/ Denmark, even at this time, considers it obligatory to have break fast, dinner and supper sf distinctive dishes on Christmas. Beefsteak and reindeer cutlets form part of the menu for breakfast. The dinner con sists of grod (a soup of oatmeal and rice), roast goose stuffed with apples and roast pork with beet roots and gherMu pickles. Protection. "An indefinable sense of danger or of something dreadful about to happen is pur suing me, said young Mr. Dolley. "O, you're all right," replied Spatts. Laws for the protection of lobsters will be enacted this winter. Cheer up."—De troit Free Press. STERILIZED BAUBER SHOP. A Famous Shop In the Carrollton Hotel, Baltimore, Maryland. The barber shop in the Carrollton hotel, Baltimore, sterilizes everything it uses in the shop. The sterilizing is done by heat. The towels, the razors, the strops, the soap, the combs and brushes are all ster ilized before being used on a customer. Where there is no sterilization, have the barber use Newbro's Herpicide. It kills the dandruff germ, and it is an antiseptic for the scalp, and for the face after shaving. All leading barbers everywhere appreciate these potent facts about Herpicide, and they use it. "Destroy the cause, you re move the effect." Jast Aboat Right. "What is a promoter, Jim?" "Well, a promoter is one of those fellows that can sell you a colander for a wash basin."—Boston Commercial Bulletin. "A woman," said Mr. Plattitood, "can't keep a secret." "Huh!" said little Johnny. "My teacher kep' me workin' an hour on a sum when she might have told me the an swer any. time."—London Tit-Bits. There is an attractiveness about being a deadhead that is hard for most people to resist, even when they know they will be bored by the show.—Indianapolis News. Top, what is a driving rain?" "Why, a driving rain, my boy, I suppose, is a rain that drives you indoors."—Yonkers States man. _____ We should be saved a great deal of em barrassment if we realized how little atten tion other people pay to us.—Indianapolis News. SASKATCHEWAN, WESTERN CANADA, IS CALLED TfiE "GARDEN OF EDEN," By a Former Resident of Reed Cltj Michigan. In a letter to the Seed City, Mich igan, Clarion, Mr. James C. Arm strong, of Meltford, Saskatchewan, says, writing on 27th May, 1901: "This is a fine country for a poor man, as he can go out on the haj^ slews and cut all the hay he needs. He turns his cattle out on the prai rie, and when he is not using his horses, he turns them out also. There is such an abundance of food, they never wander away. "A lady, who has lived here eight years, told me that this was the original 'Garden of Eden.* Information .concerning Western Canada will be cheerfully given by communicating With the agent of the Government of Canada, whose adver tisement appears elsewhere. iytBa E. Plnkham'a VogotaMo Compound. It will entirely cure the worst forms of Female Complaints, all Ova rian troubles. Inflammation and Ulceration, Falling ana Displacement of the Womb, and consequent Spinal Weakness, and is peculiarly adapted to the Change of Life. It has cured more cases of Backache and Leucorrncea than any other remedy the "world has ever known. It is almost infallible in such cases. It dissolves and expels tumors from the Utetus in an early stage of development, and checks any tendency to cancerous humors. Irregular, Suppressed or Painful Menstruation, Weakness of the Stomach, Indigestion, Bloating, Flooding, Nervous Prostration, Head ache, General Debility quickly yields to it. Womb troubles, causing pain, weight, and backache, instantly re lieved and permanently cured by its use. Under all circumstances it acts in harmony with the laws that govern the female system, and is as harmless as water. It quickly removes that Bearing-down Feeling, extreme lassi tude, "don't care" and Mwant-to-be-left-alone" irritability, nervousness, Dizziness, Faintness. sleeplessness, flatulency, melancholy or the blues," and backache. These are sure indications of Female Weakness, or some derangement of the Uterus, which this medicine always cures. Kidney Complaints and Backache of either sex the Vegetable Compound always cures. No other female medicine in the'world has received such widespread and unqualified endorsement. Ko other medicine has such a record of cures of female troubles. Those women who refuse to accept anything else are re warded a hundred thousand times, for they get what they want —a cure. Sold by Druggists everywhere. Refuse all substitutes. rr^ How Truly the Great Fame of Lydia E. Pink ham's Vegetable Com pound Justifies Her Orig inal Signature. The more reasons there are why a man should save money the less likely, he is to save it.—Atchison Globe. Persons contemplating a journey East o. West should be careful that the rates paid for their transportation do not exceed those charged by the Nickel Plate Road. This company always offers lowest rates and the service is efficient. Careful at tention is given to the wants of all first and second class passengers by uniformed Colored attendants. The dining car service of the Nickel Plate Road is above criticism and enables the traveler to obtain meals at from thirty-five (35) cents to $1.00 but no higher.. The Pullman service is the usual high grade standard. Semi-weekly transconti nental tourist cars ply between Atlantic and Pacific Coasts. Confer with nearest agent of the Nickel Plate Road. A friend in need is not always a friend in deed he may want to borrow money.—Phil adelphia Record. Piso's Cure is the best medicine we ever used for all affections of the throat and lungs.—Wm. O. Endsley, Vanburen, Ind., Feb. 10.1000. Failure is often caused by too long story telling.—Washington (la.) Democrat. To Core a Cold In One Day Take Laxative Bromo Quinine Tablets. All druggistsrefundmoneyif it fails to cure. 25c. The way to destroy courage is not to pluck it up.—Chicago Daily News. PUTNAM FADELESS DYES are the brightest, fastest and easiest to use. Every I certain ly would believe it, if we could only find the apple trees. But as it is, we have many varieties of fruit— strawberries, cranberries, saskatoons, huckleberries, red and black cur rants, dewberries, plums, red and black cherries, and red raspberries. All of these fruits grow wild. Then the flowers that dot the prairies, making them look like a real garden. We have eaten of the wild red cur rants, and they are equal if not su perior to those grown in Michigan. We have sweet corh 7% inches high. As the western farmers are all done seeding, branding cattle and sheep shearing are now progressing. Wool Is only five cents a pound, and many ranchers have on hand last year's clip. I Inclose you a potato blossom, slice of new potato, which measured 6% inches when cut. This is no fairy tale, if we are so much farther than Heed City. It is all facts. Come up and see. This has been, truly called the 'Garden of the West.' With fruits and flowers, lakes and streams, fish and fowl, beautiful riv ers, tracts of timber and mountains, what more does a man want?'^ man takes off his hat to a banker. —Atchison Globe. ABSOLUTE SECURITY. Genuine Carter's little Liver Pills. Must Berfir Signature of 5M Pao-SlmUs Wrapper Below. T«T ssisll Sad W ST .'-tM feeling, excitability* A Good Tackle. "Did I make a good tackle?" asked the football player, looking from his cot in the hospital. "Yes," replied the nurse, "you bit off one ear ana two fingers and broke three legs." "Thank heavens!" murmured the football player, lapsing again into unconsciousness. —Ohio State Journal. Best for the Bowels. No matter what ails you, headache to a cancer, you will never get well until your bowels are put right. Cascarets help nature, cure you without a gripe or pain, produce easy, natural movements, cost you just 10 cents to start getting your health back. Cascarets Candy Cathartic, the genuine, put up in metal boxes, every tablet has C. C. C. stamped on it. Beware of imitations. FOR HEADACHE, FOR DIZZINESS. FDR BIU00SHESS. FOR T0RFI0 LIVER. FOR CONSTIPATION. FOR SALLOW SKIN. FOR THE COMPLEXION CARTERS CURB SICK HIADACHE. os age, disability sad Widowhood F.l. or any U. 8. Stnln. LAWS FREE. A«a«n, ii|i« n.«U Cough SjTtp. In time. SON •me. Sold br drnnlaU. I •JI 'm -I