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VOL. IX. f PLYMOUTH, N. CM FKIDAY, DECEMBER 24. 189?. NO. 14.
HANG1NC THE STOCKINCS.
Six little worsted etockings hanging all In a
row.
tnd I have patched two scarlet heels, and
darned a crimson toe.
Over the eyes of azure, over the eyes
or brown.
Seemed as though the eyelids could never"
bo coaxed down.
1 sang for a good long hour before they
were shut rrulte tight.
l'or to-morrow will be Christmas, and old
Nick comes to-night.
We laughed as we dropped the candles Into
heel ana toe.
For not one little stocking was missing
from the row. (i
lift: oh, the ompty cradles the tears that
The voice of Knchael crying my soul can
not forget;
For there is no child to-night in many a
house I know.
Where a little sock was hanging only a year
ago.
And when our work was ended, we stood a
little apart.
Silentypraying the Father to soothe that
mother's heart.
Who looks on her unworn' stockings amid
her faluni? tears,
Whose darling is keeping Christmas in
Christ s eternal years.
1 THE COLONEL'S
I CHRISTMAS STORY,
OU see," said Alaire,
as he stretched him
self out comfortably
in his chair before
tho fire, "it is one of
the cheerful peculiar
ities of Christmas that
it makes a man home
sick -who. has no home. It is senti
ment, it is tradition, it is human na
ture, perhaps, but it never strikes one
bo forcibly and desolately that he is
alone in the world as then when he
sees all the world rushing homeward."
"Yes," I assented, "there ought to
be a Society for Providing Unattached
. Gentlemen of Affectionate Dispositions
with homes to go to at Christmas and
Thanksgiving. I intend to call the at-
tention of the conference of Charities
to it at their next meeting "
. "We had dined together the colonel,
Alaire and I at a little corner of the
club dining-room, and the meal had
not been a very cheerful one, in spite
of the fact that the chef had surpassed
himself. Afterwards we had walked
around to the colonel's room for one
of the long, discursive talks in which
we three, who were .friends of many
years' standing, delighted.
Somehow we were unusually quiet.
It was Christmas Eve, and at such a
timfe, each heart audits its account
wfth fate, and no matter what the
world may say of success or failure, it
strikes its own balance of happiness
or sorrow. Suddenly, across the still
ness, of' the room, there floated clear
and sweet from the pavement below a
child's voice singing an old Christmas
carol. The colonel went over and
raised the window and stood listening,
with his broad shoulders toward us.
"Star of Bethlehem" the childish
voice quavered and faltered in its song.
He threw a handful of coin on the
pavement and shut the window down.
"Ah," he said, drawing his breath
sharply, "I used to sing that myself
when I was a child. My mother used
to play on an old-fashioned spinnet,
and we used to sing " Then he
turned to us abruptly. "I am going
home to-morrow."
"We made a little gesture of protest
and surprise, but he did not notice it.
"It isn't the fashion," he went on,
"for people to care much for anything.
8.
jit isn't fin de siecle to weep, and most
us have forgotten hoAV to laugh,
and we crush down all emotion as if
we were ashamed of it. I am like the
rest of; my world. I have never talked
about myself, and yet to-night I have
a fancy to tell you a bit of my life.
It will help you to understand when
I am gone. If I tire you, stop me,
A- man is generally a bore when he
talks about himself."
Alaire reached up and turned out
the single jet of gas that was burning.
"It is better talking ill the dark,"
he said, but I knew the exquisite
chivalry of the man. lie would not
read what, was written in the open
book of the colonel's face. What he
told us we would know; no more.
There was a long pause. "You will
understand," he said, slowly, "that it
is not easy for me to talk of this thing.
Of course, as the cynical French pro
A'rKh'$ws a woman in the
" 4o college, and
Christmas
i-a Alirin..
rjieigh
nvhile I
ewas a
Vailed,
tended
'lit a
now
UNDER THE
Who stands under the
May le kissed, the
" Mow's your chance,"
" Slater's under the
blue gown, and some pale winter roses
were on her breast.
"Well," and the colonel laughed un-
mirthfully, "the tale is soon told. I
loved her from the first moment I ever
saw her. I went back to college with
my head filled full of fancies about her,
graduated and came home to settle
down to the peaceful life of a Ken
tucky farmer. By and by Alicia prom
ised to be my wife, and for six months
I lived in a fool's paradise. 'Wait,'
her father said; 'you are both too
young to marry, ana so l waited on
patiently enough. Every day was so
pressed down and running over with
joy that I had no need to hurry.
Did you ever think, asked the
colonel suddenly, "that a great love is
like a strong light held close to the
eyes it oiincis one to everytning
else, and sometimes it is the'selfishest
thing on earth. Afterwards I knew
that Alicia never really loved me.
That I, slow of thought and speech,
with no grace of manner or person,
was never the one to have filled her
ideal or touched her fancy. In prom
ising to marry meshe had been swept
away by the strength of my passion.
And I poured out such a wealth of
love on her that I never noticed she
gave nothing in return, She let me
love her that was enough.
That Christmas Walton, a college
mate of mine, came to spend the holi
days with me. He was a showy, brill
iant young fellow,, but one whom I had
never fancied, and his coming was en
tirely accidental. He happened to be
in that part of the State and droppped
in to see me. You know how such
things happen.. j Of course he met
Alicia. They sang together and danced
together, and, all at oncp my pensive
little darling blossomed iout into . a
brilliant woman, and stilt, I suspected
nothing, II loved her too well; I was
too loyal to be jealous. he seemed
happy in Walton's company, and so I
pressed him to stay, anclhe lingered
on for weeks and weeks. ,
After a while Walton went away,
and I could but notice a kind of fear,
constant, aversion, I don't know what,
that had come upon Alicia. Then one
day, in a little burst of petulant,unrea
soning wrath about some trifle, she
turned upon me and told me the whole
bitter truth that she had never really
loved me that her heart was given to
Walton, and she hated me because I
stood between her and him.
"Of course one cannot bind a woman
to one when she wishes to be free. I
was not cur enough to whine, but I
went to Europe for a bit, and when I
came back settled in the city. I
couldn't go back there. She had
changed the world for me.
"Alicia and Walton were soon mar
ried, and it turned out most unfor
tunately. He t broke her heart . by
every refinement of cruelty; lie wasted
her fortune, neglected and p erted
her, and through it all she oV& him
still. . God knows a woman s ideals
die hard!
"Finally he had the grace to die, and
left herf penniless to face the world
alone. Nothing on earth," said the
colonel slowly, "is so sad to me as a
,'vcntle woman, used to the refinements
. -.xM elegancies of life, who finds her
' - 11 '?(Ten lent ou her , .own exertions
". nVtyhood. Of course often tln-y
- . f thfv bftVl problem but at
MISTLETOE.
mistletoe
poets avow.
cries the little one,
mistletoe now."
what agony of body and soul no one
can know. Alicia was like the rest.
She had the inexact knowledge of the
ordinary girls boarding school, but
she could not have stood the examina
tion to have taught the ab c's in a pub
lic school. She had a sweet voice and
a sympathetic touch in music, but that
isn't what the young ladie3 who 'ren
der' pieces want to know nowadays.
She could paint and draw a little, but
you know the whole dreary story.
Nothing that would count in these
days when the world must have value
received for what it pays, and yet she
must earn her bread. She tried the
usual things boarders but ehe who
had been used to entertaining with a
lavish hospitality did not know how to
make every economy tell, and so that
was a failure. First one thing and
then another she tried. Everything
was a failure, and then she lost cour
age and threw down her arms, a poor
little vanquished warrior in the battle
of life.
"Then she drifted to this city, found
a poor room, and has lived if anyone
may call such existence living by
selling or pawning the remnants she
had left of the finery of other days.
"Yesterday I was on the street, and
in crossing a crowded corner I was so
jostled against a poor woman who
clutched in her hand a piece of money
that it fell on the pavement and rolled
under tho feet of the passers-by. I
stooped to pick it up, and when I put
it in her hand I looked straight in the
eyes of Alicia.
" 'Jack!" she said, faintly, and I an
swered, 'Alicia!'
We could not speak there, and I al
most lifted her in a cab that was
standing by the curb, and by and by
she told me what I have be3n telling
you. She was half starved, friendless
and homeless and cold, and she told
me with a little smile more pitiful
than any tears could have been, that
she had determined to end a life that
had in it nothing but sorrow and want
and degradation.
"For me," said the colonel, softly,
"there has never been but one woman
in the world. I gave her my whole
love when my heart was young, and it
has never faltered. So I asked her
there, in her poor room, to be my
wife, as I had asked her years before,
and when she pointed to her poor
withered face and spoke of the years of
sorrow she had caused iae she would
have, knelt at my feet.
" 'How could I have ever plighted
such love,' she wept; "how could I
how could I!'
"We are going to be married to
morrow," said the colonel, "and I am
going to take her back to Kentucky
for a w'ile, back to where the blue
grass will be soft about; her poor feet
that have wandered homeless through
the city. My God, men, think how
hard . the streets of a, city are to' a
homeless woman! Baik to where the
eyes that have been eearl.d looking
inio the hard face of poverty shall see
nothing but the pitying smile of na
ture; back to peace anil quiet and rest,
where she will forget the world, and
maybe there I shall win the love I
missed so many yearsVago."
I reached out in snlence and took
the colonel's handjnd Alaire lit a
match, and all at onc,$ the room flamed
into e udder. brilliancy.
"And now," said the colonel, "giye
me a Christmas toast before you go,
'My Old Kentucky Home,' God bless
it. Standing, please!"
EARLY FEASTINCS.
The Puritans Would Not Hear of Plum
Puddlpff.
The plum pudding that years of use
had made sacred to Christmas, was a
sweet morsel dear to epicurean mem
ory, but never to be mentioned in a
community where a Puritanic rage
a vakened at the mere mention of any
thing connected with that
Holiday of Anti-Christ."
"impious
And in those days of privation Eng
land's crown would have been as easy
an attainment for her runaway subjects
as the rich ingredients for composing
the historio delicacy.
But private store of raisins and
Zante currants and small boxes of cit
ron began to accumulate in the little
corner wallcupboards, wiere, the fru
gal housewives kept the treasures sent
them from friends in the mother coun
try. When church and courts sanc
tioned some modest feasting, a pud
ding was compounded, in such houses
as could afford it, and considered by
flippant youthful partakers to be one
of the chief privileges of Thanksgiving
Day.
A whole chapter might be written
about the plum pudding of old Eng
land, but poets and historians have
made it sufficiently famous, and our
attention, as loyal Americans, may
well be given to the almost pathetic
efforts of the colonists to imitate it
with such ingredients as their slender
resources allowed. An early letter
from a colonist says:
"Although we have not as yet known
physical starvation, yet so seldom
have daintyes been on our board that
it was some admiration to us when the
goodwife of one of our number made a
fine pudding from meal supplied by
the Indians and the abundant berries
(whortleberries) that grow like email
plums on straight wild bushes."
There is another record, or tradi
tion, of a pudding that was sacred to
Thanksgiving Day a few years later,
when store ships more regularly
crossed to exchange the supplies of an
older civilization for such thing3 as
the settlers could obtain from the In
dians, or manufacture among them
selves. Probably the pudding 'has
been changed in some respects to suit
the present day, but in the main the
recipe remains as it was banded down,
and all the descendants of one noble
Puritan family serve it invariably at
their Thanksgiving dinners. Slices
an inch in thickness are cut from a
loaf of home-made bread and spread
generously with butter. One of them
is laid in the bottom of a three-quart
tin pail and then dotted with twelve
raisins as impartially arranged as pos
sible. Another slice laps this, and in
its turn receives its allotment of rais
ins. Slice after slice i3 thus laid on
till the whole loaf is in the pail, into
which 'is then poured a custard mix
ture, made by adding twelve beaten'
eggs and a flavoring of salt to a quart
of milk. In the morning the pail
tightly covered, with its contents un
disturbed, is plunged into a great ket
tle of hot water hanging upon a crane
over the huge wood fire, and there left
to boil for four hours or till time for
the homogeneous boulder-like form
that the compound had resolved into,
to be slid out upon a dish and served
at "the sweet end of dinner," with a
sweet sauce made tasty with clovers
cinnamon and mace,
The pudding is palatable enough to
please any one, but when it was first
in use the bread was undoubtedly
made of rye or Indian corn, and there
must have been many times when the
supply of raisins running short, the
perplexed cooks had to substitute
dried berries for the raisins. It is a
question, too, if the generous number
of eggs had not to be lessened some
times. WATCHING FORSANTA CLAUS.
The children lie in the fire-glow warm.
Watching for Santa, and wishing so hard,
With bright heads resting on each little
arm,
And eyes ashlne in a fixed regard
Oh, nol they're not a bit sleepy at all,
As they watch and wait for Santa Claus'
.call.
But Santa knows they are watching for
him,
So he laughs to himself, and slyly waits
Till their eyelids droop, and Sleep takes
them
On into Dreamland, and locks his gates,
And leaves them in charge of the fairy
bright,
Who leads them out in the morning light.
Now Snnta Claus comes to the little black
row
Of stockings that hang in the chimney
nook;
And isn't it funny that he should know
Which wants a doll, skates, slad or book?
Then his lightened pack to his shoulder
flings,
And off again as the wild wind sings.
When the stars are gone, and the sun peops
out,
There is heard tho patter of little fefit;
The children rush in with a joyous shout
Tho stockings are emptied Oh, bright,
nnl sweat
Are the hapny f .-;? and voi'es cay
And hearts n'ade marry on Christmas Day!
Millions Who DoNot Celebrate Christmas.
There are millions upon millions of
people in tho world who will not cele
brate Christmas, and there are other
millions to whom Christmas is objec
tionable. Take the followers of Mohammed,
for instance. They are divided into
forty or fifty different sects, among
which are the Nousay-rie-yeh. There
are aboui 50,000 of them, and they be
'lieve in transmigration of the soul.
iThey believe that men's souls pass
after death into the bodies of animals.
For them the story of" the birth and
life of Christ has no charms.
Then there are the Druses, who
profess to have knowledge that God
has visited the world 231 times, but
they do not believe in Christ. For
them Christmas has no significance.
It is equally disregarded by Bud
dhists, Japanese, Chinese, Brahmins
and Mohammedans. "There is no
God but Allah," says the Mohamme
dans, "and Mohammed is his prophet."
Mohammed's followers also have curi
ous notions in regard to the fate of un
believers' children. Some believe
that these children act as the servants
of the faithful in paradise, and Mo
hammed is recorded as saying on one
occasion to his wife :
"If though desirest, I can make
thee hear their cries in Hades."
Other Mohammedan authorities,
however, dissent from this view, and
one of them boldly says: "I know that
Allah will not torment those who have
not committed any sin."
Even Christmas Had No Terrors.
And it came to pass that the Meek
' Eyed Youth looked upon the Glorious
Girl while her cheeks were red, aud
he spake unto her, saying: "Fairest
creature upon earth, wilt thou be my
beauteous bride?"
And the Glorious Girl made swift
answer, saying: "Not, O Reginald!
not until you have given me positive
proof that you love me."
And the face of the Glorious Girl was
even as the wild lily of the ' untrodden
forest for coyness, but her voice was
like unto the tax collector's for firm
ness. And the Meek-Eyed Youth looked
him far away into the henceforth, for
a great fear was with him. and in his
wailing woe he was fain to end it all.
And it came to pass that in - that
darkest moment a great light dawned
upon him, and he spake unto the
Glorious Girl,, saying: "Lest, perad
venture, thou misunderstandst me,
again do I say, be my beauteous bride.
As for proof that I love thee, fair one,
let me draw your attention to the fact
that Christmas is scarce four weeks
hence dost want more proof?"
And straightway the Glorious Girl
nestled close to his more or less manly
breast, and even as she nestled she
spake, saying: "Thou art indeed brave.
Most men would have waited till after
Christmas; but you ouch! You
mustn't muss my hair, dear!" Balti
more News.
Christmas Morning.
"Good morning, Mr. Gander! A
cool morning."
"Yes; I'm all covered with goose- j
pimples." ,
It Was No Inducement.
"If you are good," remarked the
new nurse in a Boston family to her
three-year-old charge, "Sauta Claus
will give you something nice on
Christmas."
"You will have to talk about Santa
Claus to younger persons," replied
the child. "I know that he is a
mythical personage." Judge.
A Change in the Date.
Dillingham--"! think Christmas
ought to be held on the twenty-sixth
of December."
- Wilberforce "Why."
Dillingham "Because now that it
Is held on the twenty-fifth the twenty
sixth finds people about tired to
death."
tialle.
Dix "If my wife asks you my
brand of cigars between now and
Christmas, tell her these, and say "
Dealer "Yes."
Dix "Don't charge her over a dol
lar a box; I'll pay the balance."
At Christmas.
Without, the frost-winged breezes blow
Across tho wold, above, below,
And the rose in every cheek is stirred
With tho downy kiss of each snow-flake bird.
Within, the' cheerful i'u'.e log nro
Brims with music's high desire,
Sheds light and cheer below, above,
Bespeaking the warmth of homely love.
A single sunflower stalk at Barns,
.Ivan., carried the unprecedented num
ber of 233 blooms, ai one time.
QUEER OLD NATURE.
"Why is it." aakad the wondering child,
(Sweet, simple little thing),
"That the foolish tree puts on its clothes
When the sun shines in the Spring,
And then when chilly Autumn comes
And the winds of Winter blow.
Why does it stand out there, ail bare.
In the frost and sleet and snow?"
"Wise Nat uro has arranged it thus,!'
I told the little one,
"The rustling leaves can only live
Beneath a smiling sun;
The tree that, injthe Summer time,
Makes shady bowers for you
Must have its rest, therefore it stand3
. Asleep the Winter through."
She sat in silence for a while
And gazed far Into space,
And lines of thought and trouble came
To mar her childish face;
And so, at last, she turned and said;
"I'm sorry for the tree,
And glad that Nature wasn't left -
To fix things up for me!" r'
S. E. Kiser, in Cleveland Leader.
HUMOROUS.
Papa (to mamma) It is wonderful
what becomes of all the pins made!
The Baby. (suddenly) Wow! Yow!
"Where did you learn French?"
asked the Parisian. "From a native,"
proudly replied the tourist. "Ah! a
native of what?"
"Homer, of course, was merely a
wandering minstrel," "Yes. With
his genius for military description he
would have made a fine war corre
spondent." "Before a man is thirty he falls in
love with every pretty girl he looks
at." "Yes?" "And'after he is thirty
he falls in love with every pretty girl
who looks at him."
Willie Ma, can people leave parts '
of themselves in different places? Ma
No; don't be ridiculous. Willie
Well, Mr. Jiggs said he was going to
Arizona for his lungs.
Crimsonbeak These weather clerks
are very uncertain. Yeast What
makes you think so? Crimsonbeak
Why, one of. them said yesterday,, it ..
would rain, and it did.
Fuddy You consider Harriman a
yery funny fellow? Daddy The wit
tiest man I ever knew? He can keep ,
a company of Englishmen in a brown
study an entire evening.
One of the things which makes the
Klondike so popular is the fact that
no citizen can say to .another, "You
don't cut any ice in this." Or "Is
this hot enough for you?"
Plankington I understand that you
had to go to law about that property
that was left you. . Have you a smart
lawyer? Bloomfield You bet I have.
He owns the property now.
Kev. Goodwin (sympathetically) Ah,
Mr. Heavyloss, we don't know what a
blessing our wives are until they are
laid silent in the tomb. Mr. Heavy
loss Yes silence is a great blessing.
Be warned, dear' children, by the
fate of the Boston baseball player who
has been sent to jail lor four months
for stealing a kiss. Probably this
young man began his downward career .
by stealing a base.
"I have n sliced," said the Cheer ui .
Idiot, "that a man takes, much more
satisfaction in the knowledge that he
has made an ass of himself than he
does in knowing that others have made
a monke.y of him. "
Miss Margaret Hoggley ' (of Chica
go, to her sister in a London drawing
room) See here, Mabel; sisterly love
is sisterly love, tut if you address me
as "Mag" again in the presence of
Lord Loveus I'll cut loose when we
get home to our rooms at the hotel.
"What! no telephone?" asked one
of the regular callers at the drug
st're. "Why did you have it taken
out?" "Most of the people in the
neighborhood got to using it to order
drugs from other stores. I guess I
can grasp a business idea once in a
while."
A municipal judge has before him a
culprit. "What are you here for?"
"Picking pockets."
est man to admit it.
"You're an hon
I'll let you oil
with $20 fine. The
thief can only
find $16. "Here!" exclaims the judge,
who arrested this man?" "I did,"
says Officer Mulcahey, standing up.
"Well, take him out in the crdwd till
he gets the other $-1." :
A Plan That Failed.
"I don't like that 'man Parker's
way. He is always so positive about
everything. These positive people
are very disagreeable never give
other people credit for having any
sense at all."
"Why don't you just bring proofs
some time when he is so positive and
show him where he is in error. A
few doses of that kind will cure him."
"I've tried it."
"Well, didn't it have any effect?"
"No; made him worse. You see, it
always turned out that he was right,
after all." Cleveland Leader.
The Spider' Thread.
An eminent naturalist says that
every thread of what we call the
spider's web is made up of about 5000
separate fibers. If a pound of this
thread were required it would ocoujiy
nearly 28,000 spiders a full year to
furnish it. The author of this state
ment does not inform us how long the
thread Would be, but it is safe to say
that it would reach several times
around the universal world.
(
k