Milk River Valley news. [volume], December 21, 1904, Image 5

About Milk River Valley news. [volume] (Harlem, Mont.) 1904-1908

Image provided by: Montana Historical Society; Helena, MT

                
» YULE-TIDE *
190% SUPPLEMENT 1905
A TIME OF MYSTERY.
My folks act funny nowadays—
-1 cau t tell what Is yohr on.
When ,nft eoines in sho always says:
‘‘What bundirs come when 1 was gone?”
An If I touch a closet door
Or hunt for playthings anywhere,
Somebody runs acrost the floor
An' says I '•mustn’t go In there!”
My sister talks a heap with mn.
But whispers when I come aroun'—
An' they hide things away, so pa
Won't see ’em when ho comes from
town.
I told pa all about it, too.
He only laughed, an’ said to me:
“This time o' year It's best for you
Not to ob serve the things you see.”
I-ns’ night I heard pa go downstairs
When all us folks bad gone to bod.
1 heard him bump Into some chairs
I daifsent say the things lie said.
This mornln', then. I ast him what
The matter was, an' pa he seemed
Put out, an’ said I only thought
1 heard him, an’ he guessed I dreamed.
Therr's packages behind the bed
In ma’s room. When I found them there
I ast her what they was. She said
"Have you been lookin’? I declare!"
An’ now’ they're gone; but there’s a lot
Of bundles in the cellar, though.
An’ ma says she won’t tell me what
They are, for I don't need to know.
Mp hides things from my sister- yes.
An' sister she hides things from ma.
They’re sewin' soujepln' not a dress.
An' both of them bide that from pa!
There’s somrpin poked behind the books—
But pa he’s gone an' turned the lock;
An' near as I can see, It looks
Like somepin’s hid behind the clock.
My folks acts funny I can't seo
Why they should all drop everything
An’ pick some errand out for me
Whenever they hear our bell ring;
An' I ain’t, treated right, nohow —
It don't seem just exactly fair
.Wherever I am started now
Oue of ’em says "Don’t go In there!"
—W. D. Nesbit.
| IIM HEROINE. &
IT’S a long journey for a little maid,
and 1 dislike to send her." said a sweet
voice, as its owner tied Faith’s bonnet
strings under her chin and kissed the
solemn red lips.
"She is no longer a baby, Deborah,”
said tlie stern looking man holding the
horse’s head. "Did thee tell her that”—
he paused as his wife laid a warning
finger on her lips.
Demure little Faith, in her gray
Quaker gown, looked from one to the
other. Then she cried:
“Oh, yes, father! Mother told me that
I am to drive old Zeke as fast as he will
go, down the post road and though the
^wood, and so to Wayne, and when 1
reach there, go straight to Ephraim Bas
sett’s store with the load of squashes.
'And if he asks which are the best, I am
ito tell him the marrow squash, and that
the smallest one is ripest for his own
use. Then, when he has given me the
'meal anil tea and camphor, I may drive
to see Rachel and spend the night.”
Faith’s eyes sparkled at the thought, for
Rachel was her best friend. “And if I
should meet any rebels’’— Faith shud
dered as she said the word —“1 am not
to tarry, except to answer their ques
tions civilly.”
“Remember, if thee should, that thee
Is just on the way to take Christmas
squashes to exchange for meal, and to
spend Christmas eve with thy friend,”
said her mother. “Farewell, daughter.”
“The good Lord keep thee,” said her
father, reverently, ns. chirruping to old
Zeke, Faith started off.
This was the first time she had over
been allowed to drive to town alone. She
was a brave little maid, and just because
her father could not leave home that day
was no reason why she should be afraid;
although there had been rumors of the
approach of the enemy. The old horse
covered the first two miles in good time.
“Brave old Zeke!” called Faith. “A
good friend and companion.
At that moment a snapping nnd crack
ling of brush in the woods startled the
little driver, nnd looking ahead she be
held in the road three stalwart soldiers.
Old Zeke tried to make his way through
them, but one young man sprang at his
head and brought the wagon to a stnnd
•tilL
“Pray, stand out of the way, sir,”
begged Faith, her heart beating wildly.
‘‘Thank thee for stopping him, though it
U rare fun to see Zeke run like that.”
“Not so fast, mistress,” said one of
the men. “We are fond of squash and
we would like a few for our camp.”
“They are Christmas squash for Eph
raim Bassett at Wayne,” objected Faith,
witting very straight.
“We must perforce take them if they
are not given,” said one of the men.
44 Which were you to toll Ephraim were
the best?”
Faith thought very quickly. If she
told these rough fellows that the small
parrow squasnes were the best they
Would take them all and leave none for
Ephraim Bassett.
| “The large ones a,h* ATton thought th<*
best,” she said, remembering to have
beard her father say that a few days
before.
“Ahn!” exMaimed the men. Then, leav
ing ode man to hold Zeke, the others
whipped out their knives, and to Faith's
surprise l»egan to cut the squashes open.
But to her further amazement they
dropped them on the ground with excla
mations of disgust.
With a sobbing cry Faith jumped
town and buried her face in Zeke’s
mane. The old horse put bis nose caress
ingly on her shoulder, and the young man
folding him, who probably had sisters
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of his own at home, said softly: “There,
there, little lass, no harm shall come to
you, and were it not for war no harm
would come to your precious load.”
Faith in a flash realized what had
happened. She remembered having heard
of some important message which had
been sent through the lines, but which
had not yet been delivered. - Could it ha
possible that her parents had come Into
possession of it from the young wounded
soldier that they had befriended? And
could that message be concealed in one
of the squashes? Faith’s brain worked
very quickly for a moment
“Zeke would like a piece of the
squash,” she said to the young soldier.
“He’s very fond of dainties.”
“You cun give it to him,” he said.
So Faith, one bright eye fixed on the
precious little squash her mother had in
dicated, bent to pick up the pieces, and
then, with lightning quickness, she
snatched the little squash into her apron.
Now, would Zeke Carry out his part?
Had lie ever eaten squash, and would he
do so now?”
“Zeke, good, kind, faithful old Zeke,”
she whispered, “pat it for my sake, even
if thee doesn’t like it.”
The first piece Zeke chewed with a
relish. Would the young soldier never
take his eyes from them for a minute?
“Hey, Cal. tumble that pile over,”
called one of the others.
Hero was Faith’s chance. Would Zeke
bite the £qunsh, mid could she hide the
paper under the browband ami his mane
before the young soldier turned again?
Zeke bit bravely into the squash, nnd
before Faith’s trembling hands could
catch the paper it had fluttered to the
ground.
Poor little Faith! She dn red not stoop
to pick it up—the soldier was turning
again toward her. Quick ns a flash she
concealed it beneath her broad soled
shoe, and burst into tears. Faith shook
with sobs, and in so doing managed to
work the precious document into the soft
earth nnd cover it from sight.
Disgusted exclamations from the other
soldiers stopped her cryipg. Then care
fully they searched every crack of the
wagon, and every bit of the harness
“Tricked!” exclaimed one of the men.
“The child was sent as a ruse, and the
message has gone in some other way.”
The rebel soldiers, chirruping to their
horses, cantered off. Faith reloaded
most of her damaged squashes. Then
she secured the precious paper, putting
it in her shoe for safe keeping.
Old Zeke made his best time to town,
nnd stopped before Ephraim Bassett's
store. Kindly old Ephraim came to the
door.
“A load for me. Faith?” he asked. “I
want some fine ones for my use. Why,
what’s this?”
“1 want to spouk to thee alone,” said
Faith gravely as she followed him in.
Then, in his own little office, she gave
him the paper nnd told her story.
“Ah, little Faith.” said the old mnn,
patting her head, “you are a brave lass.
This paper is to warn our army of a plot
to trap them, and you, by your true
courage nnd daring, have preserved it.
A CHRISTMAS PROCESSION IN BETHLEHEM.
and I can now ? send the message forward
without danger of its being stopped.
You are a heroine, little Faith; you have
done your country a brave Christmas ser
vice.”
Faith’s eyes brightened nnd her
cheeks burned at praise from this stern
man. nnd with fast beating heart she
drove to Rachel’s house, where in a few
minutes she had forgotten her fright and
her hcrolNm in Christmas joy ami antici
pation.—New York Tribune.
THE CHRISTMAS ATMOSPHERE
Christmas Feeling Like an Unseen
Halo Glori flea the World.
Among all evenings in the year, and
ell the (Lays, there is no other evening
tike Christmas eve, no other day like
Christmas day. Whether the eve nnd the
day he dark nnd stormy, or still and fair,
does not matter^ The difference is not
in the weather or the season, hut in that
more subtle atmosphere which, from gen
eration to generation th rough all the cen
turies, has been our inheritance from that
first Christmas eve nnd day when a new
born Babe sent its wailing cry from the
manger of Bethlehem.
The world looks different through this
Christmas atmosphere. However festive
or sad the occasion, however gay or
gloomy Hie streets may be, whatever
may be our surroundings, the Christmas
filling is there. No one may say just
wherein it lies. It is like an unseen halo
that glorifies and makes holy every good
thought and impulse, while it reveals in
darker relief whatever is tragic, unwor
thy, or vicious. A great disaster on
Christmas eve or day shocks us as it
does at no other season; a great joy
comes in that sweet raiment of gladness
that only Christmas brings. Through
nineteen centuries has tills light lingered
round the hearts of men. and through
all chose ages it has not grown dim. Year
after year slips by and is added to« the
past. But with each Christmas eve and
day -our homes and our highways are
once more filled with the old. sweet joy
—the halo from that star which rose
o’er Bethlehem.—St. Nicholas league.
A Friendship Calendar.
A friendship calendar as a Christmas
gift was a source of much pleasure to an
elderly lady living alone, says Good
Housekeeping. At her request each one
of fifty-trwo of her friends, representing
the fifty-two weeks of the year, furnish
ed material for every day of the s
in his week. Each one followed out his
own idea for the week’s calendar, Con
tributing fa write quotations. short
poems, anecdotes nnd reminiscences,
Home even adding cherished recipes, in
many inatancos the contributions were
original. Others were illustrated with
small pictures cut from current maga
zines. The result was a perpetual calen
dar, each day representing the loving
thought of n friend.
Christmas day begins in the middle of
the Pacific ocerfn, and there is where
Banta Claus starts and cuds his great
and only journey of the year
A NEW YEAR.
Over the threshold a gallant newcomer
Sfpppoth with trend that Is royal to see;
White ox the wlnter-thnc. rosy uh Hummer,
Hope In bls eyes, and his laugh ringeth
free.
Promises, prophecies, come In his train:
O’er him the dawn in its beauty Is glow
ing.
Flee from his presence the shadows of pain.
How shall we welcome him? Shall we re
member
Oue v. ho as royally enme to odr door
Twelve months ago when the winds of De
remllcr
Moaned in the tree-tops and mved on the
shore?
Ho. too. had largess of bounty to offer:
He was as smiling, as gracious of inion;
Only the 1- n-tv sought he to proffer.
Only such looks us were calm and serene.
Now he has fled; and our hopes that have
perished.
Lovely Ideals which never were found.
Dreams that we followed and plans that
wo cherished,
Ide, like the autumn leaves, <1 end'.on the
ground.
So wilt thou cheat us with sign and with
tok« n
So wilt thou woo us to follow thee on.
Till thy List sigh, through a lute that is
broken.
Till thy Inst vision is faded and gone.
Nay! we are thankless indeed if we bor
row
Only the weary libretto of pain;
Find in the retrospect nothing but sor
row*
Count up our year in the tones that com
• •; plain.
Surely we're stronger through faith and
endeavor;
Surely arc richer In courage and love—
SuMy are nesrer the Intinlte ever—
Nearer the dear ones who wait us above.
Welcome, then, New’ Year, with attflnless
white pages.
Though we may blot thorn ere long with
our tenre;
So It Inis been through the long passing
ages.
Worn with tile footprints of dose crowd-
Jug years.
Welcome, sweet year, may the full^handed
hours
Find ■ < like servants who wait for their
Lord;
Using with cans st devotion our powers.
Looking for Him, and obeying ills word.
GOING HOME’ FOR CHRISTMAS.
Wanderer* Who Came Here for Wealth
Do Hack to the Old World.
By steam, by rnil, by sail, and by
whatever mode a man may travel men
and women scurry over the face of the
earth at this season, towards whatever
spot they know as home. In Tuscany
villages, in the German mountains, on
the plains of Greece, in Sicily, on the
bleak Russian steppes, in the barren
Scnndinavinn towns, in all those old
world places that have sent their quota
of wage-earners to America, the land
of gold and promise, women and children
an* aw*fl!ting the home-coming of the
wanderers. Their waitings and longings
w’ill not be in vain.
Every ship that has left this port for
a week past has been packed to the
guards with steerage passengers "going
home for ('hristmus,” mr. s the New York
Post. Some of them will come ngain in
the spring, when the tide of immigration
sets this way again. Others have accu
mulated enough in petty savings to Live
out their lives in comfort in the bare
villages from whence they sprang. Each
of them has his little hoard of silver,
toiled for *nkmg the water front, earned
in petty trading, grubbed out of city
drains and ditches, sweated out in si*
lence in tailor shops, fought for in lum
ber camps In the Northwest, in Pennsyk
vania coal mines—amassed patiently,
guarded with care, cherished fiercely.
One may see types of nil the nations
of Europe. Stolid, fair-haired Swedes;
bright-eyed, pleasant-faced Irish girls
arc ther^; Polish Jews, bearded to the
eyes, with greasy hats pulled down on
their oars and faces marked by shrewd
ness and cunning; Russian peasants,
Roumanians, Italians, Greeks, Sicilians,
Germans, all are represented. They
have left their shops, the mines, wher
ever they have toiled. bought trinkets
and presents of one sort and another,
nnd with singing hearts started the long
journey across the black waters.
THE YULE-TIDE LOG.
An Ancient Custom Still Observed in
the North of England.
A custom nt one time prevalent in Eng
land nnd still observed in some of the
northern districts of the old country is
that <>f placing an immense lug of wood
—sometimes the root of a great tree —in
the wido chimney place. This is often
called the Yule log. and it was on Ohrist
ma» eve that it was put on the wide
hearth. Around it would gather tne en
tire family, nnd its entrance was the
occasion of a great <l«*nl of ceremony.
There were music and rejoicing, while
the one authorized to light it wiw Obliged
to have clean hands.
It was always lighted with a brand
h-ft over from the log of the pfevious
year, which hud been carefully preserved
for the purp >e. A poet sings of it iu
this way i
With the h^t year’s brand
Light the new block, nnd
For l - I success in his spending
On your psaltries play
That sweet luck may
Come while the log is n-tending.
The Yulet log was supposed to be a
protection against evil spirits, nnd IL wu
considered n bad oineu if the fire went
out before the evening was over. Tha_
family and guests used to seat them
selves in front of the brightly burning
fire, and many a story and merry jaat
a ent round the happy group.