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CE.ES FROM CHRISTMAS DAY.
Knriy irloriiin. 'I'llen ' .1 Mii:;:.- oi hght !iei on the Blair And the flutter i! tiny white, robea, UhiiJtt-h laus".itT. i;pir.Ht-ed with !;rea' , CresXicc doc-i s'owly, carefully closed IVr the R?oclii:i;s a nwh Th-ti a Midden gimh Of Uelipax. ! ;atly koiihcIu iront beioiv. I'cr the ilaytliiu;n are found TnmU'.iioiil on the ground, And cremated wiy doww into She tre ! May tbeKl.d. !?'i.ful oitv-i meet Santa Ulaua ear, And urine iiira ssn. Und aw ever, tiext year ' '1 er ii'clotk. By Ibc window, at! ureltily dre-se.l, Aud iH-acefu!. aa h:ijly. a'"1 tro'vi. With t. rs dgaiu-t i-lam jrSM.Ml, Is MuiUnt? Maxima's merry brood. Tt.ry van h for 1U tduigh, tn-Jl Papa rays, t-day. lay carry them to lx rhuroh do:t Now t.wy Bisout with delight A .1 z :d-t . jto tight, id fa!i'.j r .iwav "?r tilt tliiur ! "1 :!: ':.( t'n' fW wwtccu. i' i i.ut .iti-'. but Cari5tmas, 1 veon ! h is ever ; ai.d Ittim?, tbwiigk lUc snow, e "hildrer; have cojiio v itix great glee, i xt on the jj;rjui5ffl, you ksovr. w dluEir -.lit-" ;ieR ami ttirla-y. Wita a hony'it fir Ihf poor. VI; a;. crmt eavs, at o.r door ' ' .- always jw found if wi soefc. H'ivr trateful Uipj'II l) V'n-ta tte-e hapsctrt they w, ' I: li t- I liing? I o foH them a week I ij.v'. r w, f at B.ffbt w rati nay. .;. .'. t".. bi-rI-u from one beart to-day. r A V L A - Hit fie' cheery " - .... . .:Jtr and lw, and o'.d, troai our play, . v ..ivucf rubrofcen, '; ut ws open ' j,c j ,-.kU1 nnviMC;r;a-f! ' - ,T:' 'IS We PW . jl!t.feff( ttfe, ia. i wirh lights all ablaze ; . . '.ti? !'ie vwry our, both great aiil .'d. P.ttritk, Bid .';, sad a1.!. ; 'l r.ioiu tttatl ftJy u.iw, i.i'-r this le, . t urls tr. m tltat tbwhed, l;tt!t ih; dear. cu:y b.ad I . 1:- r (ti!5 u Imt brrit, at jt. - vve x'S'-ni iu l;cr bear; ; rt! H i;. 'Ai't'i 1 j t-.srrd, . i: !.- -rwnud. u "oisl. v.: - !j . if w srt ! . dar (UtnM-chiltf. v ;ray ih ';e- lu .is biitiUt to-diiy 1 POT. A OiiKiKTMAs fr-xoirv. tihe i:.Ttr iu any other Chrisluiu n: ins, auI I : nuno't tell you if I:er sur a.tm "Tv oniitli oi Is is an un- solvtd niTHtt-rv ttow, in a home "here low it-ver ent?retl, wlire fond titles were uevtv hear 1. a uame so liko-a lov ing nybrevintina ever given to the bhe was lio- otic of thf; litt: ones vho, elinibi i ; upon a mother's lap iu a cosey uur'iy, have d titles ahovered ujicu 11:01 : vho, liuelixig ht-sidc a moth'. r's lv..:i, liep biby prayers, and arc lifte-d ::!? waim cribs, und folded to sleep :'r. fUFfrt of blankets : viio, waJiiug rosy ad hnp'y. Gad the ehoiee frlr-tus toi'-sbops atvaitiug their dts-f iTicii.m lium baby t:-::j;ers. Dir'r- n :rs-ey vaa u c:m1v with sione walls Jtad ai- earthen iioor, and if her motbor ever !:ite.d her, it wa? to bestow noon her -hr::iui tj? btxiy a blow; her crib vas a ii:i-ty hlanket in a corner, where Viif er-pt alone : aud if she ever heard her Cn-a tor's name, it was iu a curse, U'Ji :5 pmy v. Hit iVLei- ::id taoiher, tall and strong, worked pjirt of the week to ob tain the means being drunk the rest, and had n .)! plea-tire iu eommou but that oi kiening, eulliu and abus ing Dr. She wa. rfv- v.'nrs old. with the stat ure f a c':.: '!' 'wo, aud so thin that itfUHmeds winder her bones did not j fall apart, w.th uo iaon ilesh so nn:d them together. Out of :s tangle of dull, dn&-coleit;d L-uir peeped a iiny white face, with sunken cheeks, pinchrd lips, and eyes that ware like owls', they looked ?o uunii rurally Jnrge aud round. In winter her fingers and tors were covered with great ied chilblains, and all the year -.ouud she carried upon her poor little back the marks of cruel blows. Her idea oi home was that it was a horrible plaee-, from which it. was com parative happiness to escape into the streets a idaee .vhere a powerful vi rago she exiled "mammy" twitched hr up whenever she iound a warm corner behiud the stove, and tossed her by her poor little sticks of arms into far-off cold corners, or cuffed her and turned her into tae streets ; where a reeling, swearing man lifted her on his great foot to toss her poor little aching bones across the floor, where she would lio in a corner trying to suppress her sobs, lest the noise uhonld attract notice and a consequent fresh abuse. Her highest idea of comfort was cen tered in a great brewery at the corner of the wretched atreet- where she lived, aud where she could sometimes creep into i vrarm spot, or feel iu tho gut ter outside tho rush of the hot refuse that swept by, and whoso sweet smelling steam enveloped her in warmth. She was lying upon the curb-stone, feeling and inhaling this steam, one Christmas Eve, when Miss Mary Rus sell, one of the teachers iu a large Mis sion Sunday School, hurrying past the brewery, mu tiled in soft furs, nearly stumbled over the prostrate litrle figure. It was a clear, starlight evening, early yet, though after lamplight, but very cold : and tho lady stopped, sickened with the sight of this atom shivering in scant calico dress, a ragged cloak and hood, barefooted, and with a thin white face, which was all distorted by crying. " Child! child !" she said, "what are you doing here ?' "I an't dniu' no harm," Dot an swered, scrambling to her feet. " It feels good, and I'm coid." "Cold! I should think so. Where is your home ?" "Mammy's mad cos pop he's on a spree and an't got no money. She's waiioped me twice, and I an't had a bite to-day. so I sneaked out to warm me here. I often comes, but I don't do no harm."' " Will you come with me where you can have some food and clothes?" Dot was willing enough, and put a hand like a bird's claw into Miss Kus f ell's. Jt was Christmas Eve, as I have said, and the teachers of the Sunday school v re preparing a tree and a treat of idee things to t at for the -title ones under tin ir charge. It was no novelty to ?ee any of them entering, with little ragged children : but Dot's face was so utterly wa:i and whiie that several oi' the other ladies gathered around her as i-he enter, d the leng room. "I found her shivering on a curb stone," Miss llussell explained, " and she has evidently escaped from the cruelties of drunktii parents. We must clothe aud l"ed her to night, and to morrow I will see if she is a ease for the Hoine.' "' "What is your name, dear?" asked one of the teacher., gently removing the taiieied cloak. ' Dot ! Please ma'am, den't take that 'ore ! I'll freeze to death if you do." " We wjnt. to put some warmer clothes r-n you, Dot," wr.s the reply ; and the little one was tenderly lifted iu motherly arms, rut! carried by Mary's mother into a little room, where a great, basket of clothing stcod ready for distribu tion. The little waif was full of wondering awe. Never in her short life had she ?eMi such 100ms as these she was in. Never had her rags been taken from her poor little shivering body by such soft hands ; never had cool ointment touched the great sores on her back, the chil blains on her feet and hands ; never had tears fallen upon her tangled hair, or kisses on her wonderiug face. Gently, as if she were a king's daughter, she was washed, aud cloth ed in warm garments, her tangled hair cut and brushed, and a warm woolen hood tied over it ; her feet chafed ten derly, warmed and bound up in soft linen, and then covered with loose woolen socks and easy shoes. And while she was being dressed a low, sweet voice wns telling her that she was to see a Christmas tree. Once, a whole long year ago, Dot had heard one of the many children, who swarmed in the wretched street where she lived, tell of a Christmas tree. He had seen it from the open door of a church, and its priories served for many an hour's description when the other children stood in open-mouthed wonder listening to him. Vaguely, dreamily, for the warmth and comfort were making her drowsy, Dot tried to recall these descriptions. She. had heard of heaven from the same boy, who told her that the church door showed him a place just like heaven, aud she acepted the comparison, as she did all the rest, in unquestioning belief and utter ignorance of the meaning of the word. When she was all dressed, Miss Ens sell lifted her again, and carried her to a cushioned seat in a corner, saying : " Now sit here quietly, like a good little girl, and I will soon have some thing for you to eat besides this." A great bu n, with plums in it, was placed in Dot's hands, and tho kind lady went away. Far off, quite at the other end of the long room, she could see a group of ladies busy about a tall green tree, which they were loading with toys, dolls and horses, and hundreds of bright beautiful things, none of which Dot had ever seen. She tried to eat her bun, but the pangs of hunger had given way to a sick loathing of food, and she could not swallow. Over the little thin limbs there crept slowly a numbing warmth, and tho little hooded head drooped till it rested upon tho wall beside her, powerless to rise again. Yet the child did not sleep. Tho ladies at the end of the hall, moving to and fro, took fantastic shapes in her large, wide-open eyes, and she wondered if they would all rush at her by and by, tear off her new clothes, and fling her into the street again. Once or twice in her wretched life, she had had a gar ment given to her that had vanished as soon as she took it home, and she thought how she should cry if her mother tore off all these warm clothes and sent her about shivering in her rags again. Then the great tree danced up and down in her dizzy sight, and seemed nodding its strange, bright burden above her head. She wondered why the babies upon it huug by the neck, and where they got such beautiful clothes ; why the horses did not prance about, and what all the strange, tine things were for. After a time the ladies went into an other room, where she could still hear their voices, and the lights were lowered so that the long room was quite dim. Then the child fell asleep, stnd a dream came to her. In tho dream a white-winged angel, with the face of the kind lady who had taken her from the curb-stone, bent over her and said : " No more pain, nor cold, nor hunger after to-night, Dot." And she felt soft kisses on her lips, aud all faded away into a long, dream less sleep. Two or three times Miss 15.nssell went softly to Dot's corner. Once to put a folded shawl under lit r head, and settle her comfortably upon the cushioned seat ; once, when no one observed her, to press her lips again upon the poor little face, and whisper a prajer. You see, she was one uf the woman and God bo thanked there are main- who went into the Mission School with a heart full of mother-love, pity, and Christian charity. One who thought of each neg lected little one as one of the children Christ called, aud who might siuswer the call, if a tender, helping hand wa3 extended to aid stumbling feel. Every sore upon Dot's little pinched body had sent a paug to this noble heart ; every tettr that fell from her groat, wistful eyes had drawn the mother-love closer to her. And as she stood covering the little sleeping figure, putting the soft pillow under the weary head, no child had ever had gentler touch than was given the little street waif. "Cannot eat," she thought, seeing the untasted bun held fast in the thin fingers; "that is bad. I vill have a little warm milk for her when the sup per is ready. We must get her into the children's hospital for a while. She breathes as if her lungs were dis eased." So with good wishes .-loafing like blessings over her, Dot slept till a great burst of music wakened her with a start. She stood erect, her eyes dilated, her whole figure trembling. Little children, two by two, neatly clad, and singiug n hymn, entered by wide open doors, and trooped past her in a seemingly endless procession ; the great organ pealed above her, shuddering with its mighty chords of music. Beyond, in a glory of light, ruch as the child had never seen, was the Christ mas tree, a thousand darts of fire springing from its branches, and the colors Hashing in every direction. Still the music, the organ .and happy voices of hundreds of children tilled the air, and the glorious tree blazed before Dot's eyes. The pains and sufferings of her whole life faded slowly from the child's mem ory as she stood looking and listening, her whole being absorbed in her ec stacy. She forgot the wretched cellar, the loud-voiced mother, the brutal father ; forgot cold, hunger and pain. Over her whole tiny being floated the divine incense of the loving atmos phere, wrapping her in a delicious glow, stilling every fear, every doubt, absorbing body and soul in the Christ mas warmth. When the children sat down, still singing, little Dot slowly sank back into her corner, nestling there very wearily with the happiness closing around her, drawing her into warmest embrace. Softly fell upon her ears the voices car rying the gratitude of the children to the Savior's feet ; the great tree seemed to bend again over her and cover her with its brightness, and Dot folded her hands and lay quiet, never doubting that she had reached a haven of per petual warmth, music and happiness. One by one the children of the Mis sion school came forward as the teach ers took the gifts from the tall tree. Girls v ho had looked in vain longing at tho shining toy-shop windows now clasped a doll, with an instinct of moth erhood, close in their loving arms. Boys, for whom drums and tops had been only imaginary joys, found them selves smiling possessors of these cov eted treasures. Little ones who had often wondered what "candy tasted like," found their fingers opening paint ed cornucopias to find out. The organ pealed forth joyous an thems, and there was ever a chorus of childish voices to sing the Christmas hymn. It tool: a long time to provide each of the little ones with a gift, the older children with books, the younger with toys and sweets, and the evening was far advanced when the procession was reformed to go into the adjoining room where supper was laid. The room was clear of all the little ones when Miss Ibissell, with a doll aud horn of candy in her hands, went once more to Dot's corner. "Still shtping," she thought. "I should have thought the music and light would have wakened her." She bent lower, touched the little hood, and then knelt suddenly, drop ping her toy and candies, her face palo as ashes, and the tears streaming from her eyes. Eor cold and starvation had done their sad work, and full of the strange, new happiness surrounding her, little Dot had found her Christmas in the world where sorrow comes no more. The little figure was still in death, the little face set in marble stillness ; and carried upward upon the wings of Christmas love, the joy of Christmas song, the glory of Christmas light, little Dot's soul had risen to the feet of the pitying Savior, who loves little children. Tin: atj; of the xativit. Jt would be satisfactory, and possi bly might be useful, to the religious world to know for ceitain that the day on which it celebrates the birth of the Bedeemer actually is entitled to the distinction which makes Dec. o the pri eat festival dav of all the vear. But while average humanity in all civilized countriis will usually ignore this moot ed question, in its greater desire to commemorate the event itself, there have been those who, looking back as far as Uipv could into tin mist of the early centuries, have been compelled to admit the vague and traditional title which Dec. '2 has to the high honor it enjoys. Iu the earliest, periods at which we have any record of the observance of Christmas, we find that some communi ties of Christians celebrated the festival on the 1st or (5th of January ; others on the 2Dch of March, the time of the Jew ish Passover ; while others, it is said, observed it on the 29th of September, or Feast of Tabernacles. There can be no doubt, says Chambers, in his "Book of Days," that long before the reign of Constantino, in the fourth century, the season of the New Year had been adopted for celebrating the Nativity, though a dif ference iu this respect existed in the practice of the Eastern and Western Churehes, the former observing the tfth of January, and the latter tho 25th of December. The custom of the "Western Church at last prevailed, and both of the ecclesiastical bodies agreed to hold the anniversary on the same day. The fixing of the date appears to have been the act of Julius I., who presided as Pope or Bishop of Borne, from IY.M to 3' A. D. Chrysostom, in one of his epistles, states that Julius, on the solicitation of Cyril, of Jerusa lem, caused strict inquiries to be made on the subject, and thereafter, follow ing what seemed to be the best authen ticated tradition, settled authoritative ly the 25th of December as the anni versary of Christ's birth, making it, in Chryso.stom's phrase, Fnxtoritm om nium metropolis, the metropolis of all the feasts, and this distinction it has since maintained. Other authority, of doubtful vafcip, however, repitwents the fixing of the day to have been accomplished 200 years previous to Telephorus, who was Bishop of Borne 128-139 A. D. And toward tho closo of the second century, in the reign of the Emperor Ccmmodus, a reference has been found to tho ob servance of Christmas. A century later, in the time of Diocletian, the celebration of the Nativity by the Christians in Nicomedia was made the occasion of an atrocious act of cruelty on the part of that infamous ruler, in that he caused the church in which the festival occurred to be set on fire, and by barring every means of egress from the building, caused the agonizing death of every worshiper. It will be seen from the statements made that, while no record exists whereby to fix with certainty the date of tho Savior's birth, the dav we now call Christmas I has for at least futetu hundred years been uniformly observed by all the na tions of Christendom as the anniver sary of the Nativity. And it would be a libel upon humanity to doubt that, unless future research shall stamp upon some other day the certainty of being the true anniversary of the Savior's birth, the world and the church will always continue to hold consecrate the 25th of December as commemorative of that momentous event. Ncvi York Evening Mud. CHRISTMAS, t A magazine-writer contrasting the holiday seasons nowadays with those of our boyhood experience thus sighs : " Christmas comes much oftener nowa days than during the first half of the century. In those times it happened, I am positive, onco in tin age, and its ap proach was marked by stages well-nigh endless. The first mile-stone was Thankngiving ; the next (perhaps the earlier) a big snow-storm ; anon the toy-shops bloomed gayly out with holiday goods ; and intently, on the keen evening air, floated the sweet pre monitory chime of Christ Church bells, that we lay awake to hear, counting the long nights yet to pass before the stockings should hang from the bed posts. Do bells make music there now, and do drowsy lads listen ? Thcro are none chiming here, anyway, and if there were, our busy brains might not note them ; nor can men in mature life be reasonably expected to flatten their noses against toy shop windows. In short, Christmas nowadays almost takes us by surprise. TAKI.(r -JUSTICE RX THE FORE LOCK. California is still peculiar. It is re poited that some ore was recently stolen from a gold mine in Sierra countv, in that State. A numuer of Chinamen lived in the neighborhood, and they were suspected of the crime on general principles. The miners did not have any proof that the Chinamen stole the ore, but resolved that justice should take its course. Accordingly they re-enacted the feat of our tender hearted Pilgrim fathers, who roasted a Pequod village, and set lire to the huts of the Celestials. The huts were all ablaze, Chinese were skipping around, and the fun was at its height, when a miner came running up to the huts, out ! of breath, to announce that the rea I ! T - 1 - - 1 C I nn,l rnr- tured ! Some of the mob would at this juncture have put out the fire, but for the advice of a prominent miner, one Joe Warren, who argued that if th Chinese hadn't stolen the ore, the would steal eornething in time, and that the fire had better go on. So the exercises were continued, and the Chi nese were burned completely. A WiuLiAMsnrm;, N. Y., man awoke his wife the other night, and, in a startled tone of voice, informed her that he had swallowed a dose of strych nine. " Well, you fool," said she, "lie still, or it may come up." Cheap, yet satisfactory Compli ments. rnoiiAULY no one disease is the cause of ao much bodily misery and utihappitiess (and tho diee-ano ialmoet universal among tlio American people) as dyspepsia. It- causea, aro many and various. Sying chielly in tho habitd of our peoilo. Tho remedy w nimple and effectual. Urn Dr. Wishart's Great American Dyspepsia Tills. They novor fail to euro. Fkarftl tho amount of mouoy thrown awav in not buying shoos protected by SI L YEIl TITS. Parent:", ho wise and insist that your shoe dealer should keep them. Wisharf s Pine Tree Tar Cordial ! atu re's Great Remedy FOR ALL Throat $c Lung Diseases. Tor Sale by all Druggists and Storekeepers.