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►THE SOUTHERN WORLD, DECEMBER 15, 1882.
“ The world, dear child, is a* we take It, and
Life, he «ure. is what we make It"
TIIE CIIRI.STHA8 TIME.
'The merry Christmas, with Its generous boards,
IWflrellt hearths and gifts, and biasing trees,
The pleasant voices uttering gentle words.
Its genial mirth attuned to sweet accords,
Jta holy memories.
The fairest season of the passing year,—
The merry, merry Christmas time Is here.
The sumacs by tile brook have lost tbelr red;
The mill-wheel in the Ice stands dumb and stiy,
The leaves have fallen and the birds have fled,
The flowers we loved In summer, all are dead;
And wintry winds blow chill:
Yet something makes this dreariness less drear,—
The merry, merry Christmas time Is here.
Since last the panes were hoar with Christmas frost,
Unto our lives some changes have been given:
Some of our barks have labored, tempest tossed,
Some of us too, have loved, and some have lost,
Some found their rest in heaven.
So, humanly, we mingle smile and tear,
When merry Christmas time Is drawing near.
CJItAXDMA’S J,OST POCKET BOOK.
A Christ inns Story.
She was a queer old lady, was Grandmother
Grant; she was not a bit like other grand
mothers ; she was short and fat and rosy as
a winter apple, with a great deal
of snow-white hair set up in a big
puiTon top of her head, and eyes
as black as buckle berries, always
puckered up with smiles or laugh
ter.
She never would wear a cap.
“T can’t be bothered with ’em!’’
she said: and when Amelia Rut
ledge, who was determined her
grandma should, as she said,
“look half-way decent,” made
her two beautiful little mob caps,
soft and fluffy, and each with a
big satin bow, one lavender and
one white, put on to show where
the front was, Grandma never
put them on right; the bow was
over one ear or behind, or the
cap itself was awry, and in the
end she pulled them off and stuck
them on a china jar in the parlor,
or a tin canister j>n the kitchen
.shelf, ami^ieft them there till
flies and dust ruined them.
“Amelia’s as obstinate as a
pig I" said the old lady: “she
would have me to wear ’em and
I wouldn’t!"
That was all, but it was enough ;
not a grandchild ever made her
another cap. Moreover Grand
mother Gruut always dressed in
one fashion; she hud a calico
dress for morning and a black
silk for the afternoon, made with
an old-fashioued surplice waist,
with a thick ruff about her
throat; she sometimes tied a
large white aprou on, but only
when she went into the kitchen ;
and she wore a pocket as big as
three of yours, Matilda, tied on
underneuth and reached through
a slit in her gown. Therein she
kept her keys, her smelling bot
tle, her pocket-book, her hand
kerchief and her spectacles, a bit
of flag-root and some liquorice
stick. 1 mean when 1 say this,
that all these things belonged to
hey pocket, and she meant to
keep them there; but it was one
peculiarity of the dear old lady,
that she always lost her necessary
.conveniences, and lost them
.every day.
“ Maria V” she would call out to her daugh
ter In the next room, “have you seen my
spectacles ?" »
“ No, mother; when did you have them ?”
“Five minutes ago, darning Harry’s
stockings; but never mind, there’s another
pair in the basket.”
In half an hour when Gerty came into her
room for something she needed, Grand
mother would say :
“Gerty, do look on the floor and see if my
specs lie anywhere around.”
Gerty couldn’t And them, and then Grand
ma would say:
“ Probably they dropped out on the grass
under the window, you can see when you go
down ; but give me my gold pair out of my
upper drawer."
And when Mrs. Maria went to call her
mother down to dinner she would find her
hunting all about the room, turning her
cushions over, peering Into the wood-basket,
shaking out the silk quilt, and say, “ What
Is it you want, mother?”
“ My specs, dear. I can’t And one pair."
“ But there are three on your head now!”
and Grandma would sit down and laugh till
she shook all over, as if it were the best joke
in the world to push your spectacles up over
tbe short white curls on your forehead, one
pair after another, and forget all about
them.
She mislaid her handkerchief still oftener.
Gerty would sometimes pick up six of these
useful articles in one day where the old lady
dropped them as she went about the house;
but the most troublesome of ail her habits
was a way she had of putting her pocket-
book in some queer place every night, or if
ever she left hdme in the day-time, and then
utterly forgetting where she had secreted it
from the burglars or thieves she had all her
life expected.
The house she lived in was her own, but
Doctor White who had married her daugh
ter Maria, rented it of her, and the rent paid
her board; she had a thousand dollars a year
beside, half of which she reserved for her
dress and her charities, keeping the other
half for her Christmas gifts to her children
and grandchildren, There were ten of these
last, and the ten always needed something.
Gerty White, the Doctor’s daughter, was
the drawer when she was called down stairs
to see a poor woman who bad come begging
for some clothes for her husband.
“ Come right up stairs, Mrs. Slack,” said
Grandma. “ I don’t have many applications
for men’s things, so I guess there’s a coat of
Mr. Grant’s put away in the camphor chest,
and maybe a vest or so ; you sit right down
by my fire whilst I go up to the garret and
look."
It took Grandma some time to find the
clothes under all the shawls and blankets in
the chest, and when she had given them to
Mrs. Slack she had to hurry to the station
with her daughter, and the cars being on the
track they did not stop to get tickets, but
were barely In time to find seats when the
train rolled off. The conductor came round
in a few minutes and Grandma puther band
in her pocket, suddenly turned pale, opened
herjbig satchel and turned out all its con
tents, stood up and shook her dress, looked
on tbe floor, and when Mrs. White said in
amazement, “ What it the matter mother?”
she answered curtly, “ I’ve lost my pocket-
book.”
“ Was it in your pocket ?” asked Maria.
“ Yes; at lest I s'pose so: I certainly took
it out of my drawer, fori noticed how heavy
'twas; that new cashier gave me gold for
most of it, you see.”
KUIY'S SAFE REFUGE.
twelve years old; she had three brothers:
Tom, John, and Harry, all older than she
was. Mrs. Rutledge, who had been Annie
Grant, was a widow with three daughters—
Sylvia, Amelia and Anne, these latter two
now out in society and always glad of new
dresses, gloves, bonnets, ribbons, lace and
tbe thousand small fineries girls never have
to their full satisfaction. Thero were Thom
as Grant’s two girls of thirteen and fifteen,
Rosamond and Kate, and his little boy Hal,
crippled in babyhood so that he must al
ways go on crutches, but as bright and happy
as Grandma herself, and her prime favorite.
Now it was Grandma’s way to draw her
money out of the bank two weeks before
Christmas, and go into Boston with Mrs.
White to buy all the things she had previ
ously thought over for these ten and their
parents; and one winter she had made her
self all ready to take the ten-o’clock train,
and had Just taken her pocket-book out of
“ You’d have known then if you dropped
it on the way, mother."
“ I should think so: any way, I can’t go to
Boston without itl we may as well stop at
the next station and go back."
So back they went; asked at the ticket
office if any such thing had been picked up
on the platform, and leaving a description
of it,went rather forlornly back to the house.
Here a terrible upturning of everything took
place; drawers were emptied, cupboards
were ransacked, trunks explored, even tbe
camphor chest examined to its depths, and
everything in it shaken out.
“ You don’t suspect Mrs. Slack?” inquired
Maria.
“Sally Slack I no, indeed. I've known her
thirty year, Maria; she’s honest as the day
light.”
Still Maria thought it best to send for Mrs-
Slack and inquired if she had seen it when
she was at the house,
“Certain, certain 1” answered the good
woman. “ I see Mis’ Grant hev it into her
hand when she went up charmber; I hedn’t
took no notice of it before but she spoke up
an’ says she, 1 I’ll go right up now, Mis’
Slack, for I’m in some of a hurry, bein’ that
I’m a goin, in the cars to Bosstown for to buy
our folkses' Christmas things; so then I took
notice ’t she hed a pocket-book into her
hand.”
This was valuable testimony, and Mrs.
Slack’s face of honest concern and sympathy
showed her innocence in the matter. Next
day there was an advertisement put in the
paper, for the family concluded Grandma
must have dropped her money in the street
going to the station, but the advertisement
proved as fruitless as the search, and for
once in her life the dear old lady was down
cast enough.
“ The first time I never gave ’em a thing
on Christmas I I do feel real downhearted
about it, Maria. There's Annie’s three girls
lotted so on their gloves an’ nicknacks for
parties this winter, for I was goin' to give
them gold pieces so’s they could get what
they wanted sort of fresh when they did
want it; and poor Gerty’s new cloak 1"
“Oh, never mind that, mother. I can
sponge and turn and fix over the old one; a
plush collar and cuffs will make it all right.”
“But there’s the boys. Tom
did want that set of tools and a
bench for ’em; and I reckoned
on seeing Harry’s eyes shine over
a real Newfoundland dog. That
makes me think; won’t you write
to that man in New York ? I’ve
changed my mind about the dog.
And Jack can’t go to Thomas’s
now for vacation; oh dear!”
"Don't worry, mother,” said
Maria; but Grandma went on.
“Kate and Rosy too, they
won’t get their seal muffs and
caps, and dear little Hal 1 how he
will long for the books I promised
him. It’s real trying, Maria!”
and Grandma wiped a tear from
her eyes, a most nnusual symp
tom.
But it was her way to make
the best of things, and she sat
down at once to tell Thomas of
her loss, and then put it out of
her mind as well as she mighF.
It spoke well for all those ten
grandchildren that they each felt
far more sorry for Grandmother
Grant’s disappointment than
their own, and all resolved to give
her a present much nicer and
more expensive than ever before,
pinching a little on their other
gifts to this end; and because
they had to spare from their other
presents for this laudable pur
pose, it was natural enough that
not one should tell another what
they meant to send her, lest it
should seem too extravagant in
proportion to what the rest of the
family received. Christmas morn
ing the arrival began. The stock
ing of Grandpa’s which Gerty had
insisted on hanging to the knob
of Grandma’s door was full, and
when she came down to break
fast she brought it with her still
unsearched, that the family might
enjoy her surprise.
At the top a square parcel tied
with blue ribbon was marked
" from Gerty," and proved to be a
little velvet porte-monnaie.
“ Dear child! how thoughtful!"
said Grandma, giving her a kiss,
and not observing that the Doctor
looked funnily at Mrs. White across the
table.
The next package bore John’s name and
disclosed a pocket-book of Russia leather.
“ So usofull” said Grandma, witha twinkle
of gratitude in her kind old eyes.
Harry emitted a long low whistle, and his
eyes shone as the next paper parcel with his
name on it showed an honest leather pocket-
book with a Bteel clasp.
Grandma had to laugh. Doctor White
roared, and Tom looked a little rueful as his
bundle produced another wallet as like to
Harry’s as two peas in a pod.
“ Dear boys I” said Grandma, shaking like
a liberal bowl of jelly with the laughter she
tried to suppress in vain; but it was the
boys’ turn to shout as further explorations
into the foot of the old blue stocking brought
up a lovely seal-skin wallet from their moth
er and a volumnlous yellow leather one from
the Doctor.