Christmas, 1900.
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E 1ST, bells To the and are fro, New ringing Year
Messages of comfort bringing
Clear and low.
Over mead and plain and valley,
Where the forest giants rally,
Up through park and street and alley
Paeans flow.
List, the New Year bells are calling
Far* and near, falling
Like some prayer triumphant
On the ear.
Lo, the past is past forever,
In this hour its bonds we sever,
And its clouds shall darken never
Our New Year.
List, the New Year bells are swaying
High and low,
Pulsing, pleading, praising, praying,
As they go.
Now may every sin be shriven,
And our hearts from sorrow riven,
All forgiving and forgiven
Here below.
—Minneapolis Housekeeper.
fib>
iw *wrv f A C K KEMPSTER
sat on an overturned
barrel. He was div¬
ing down into a box
before him and tak¬
w ing out slowly, one
by one, the different
articles t h a t had
been sent him.
Each present w as neatly packed, and
many had names attached,
“Such a collection of things," murmured
Jack, as he deposited them all in a heap,
with a view of going over them again.
It was a warm, pleasant day. Christmas
always had been associated in Jack’s mind
with snow and cold, but here It was balmy
as summer.
"Manila is all very well,” Jack had said
that morning to one of his friends, who also
had enlisted as a private, “but give me
snow, and ice, and freezing generally that
we have at home. It seems as if that were
a part of Christmas.”
In truth. Jack felt rather homesick, and
he thought gladly of the time when he
could turn his back on all this and go back
to his work again in the office.
This was at nine a. m. Before ten each
man in the regiment had his Christinas
box and had gone off by himself quietly to
investigate the contents.
Jack slowly went over the packages.
There was a dainty handkerchief with his
initial embroidered in the corner.
"Not much use out here,” thought Jack,
ruefully. There were a lot of tobacco from
a young man friend at home, a number of
books, a few photographs, and, tuckefi in
one corner, was a tiny package marked
"For the owner of the box.”
Jack took the latter up and eyed it cu¬
riously. He felt sure he had never seen
the writing before. It was pretty and
delicate. A woman’s, evidently. It made
Jack feel eager to see the contents, and he
hastily tore off the wrapping paper.
Inside was a tiny box covered with white
silk wrought in rosebuds, and around it,
written upon a dainty sheet of paper, was
a letter.
Jack Kempster read the letter with evi¬
dent amusement. Then he opened the lit¬
tle box.
“By Jove!” he ejaculated as he dad so.
"That girl is clever. She did send some,
after all.”
Ten minutes later he was with his foiend,
Tom Carpenter.
“Tom,” he cried, as he flourished his let¬
ter in the air, "have you a letter like this?”
"I don’t know what you mean by ‘like
this,’ ” averred Tom, who was of more
sedate frame of mind, "but I’ve got apiece
of wedding cake from some girl at home
and a letter.”
"So have I,” cried Jack, “and here is my
letter. Did you have one like it? Just listen
and see.”
With these words he began to read ex¬
citedly:
" ‘I know we have been forbidden to (put
any eatables in the Christmas boxes sent
out to the boys in the regiments, but I am
determined to smuggle my package in. I
have taken six pieces of wedding cake and
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- DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT WAS IN
THE LETTER?"
put in S3 * different bodes. boxes will
be covered last wedding with a piefce wher'K^.^hridemaid. °f'wtheSfi resE I wore
at the bridei/naid^H
I have been 4^flr gi* Reddings.
They all say I make s n ice one- but no
one seems to think I «S a wec’dir.&of my
own. Perhaps one a.fteid^Mr B j r . ybn.Qg.pen
will hunt me up et home, bfe\ ;at
any dream rate of put the cakr^^H r you -, p M«w ai, d
" ‘THE that MA^D^HKh bea^J FORLORT4 crfeiLn- - ”
“Don’t ling?”
thusiastic Jack, h&a
"And we haven’t an
going to save my box, tP
dress, and if I hunt the wo
that girl.”
"Humph!” ejaculated Ton
stay ‘the maiden all forlorn!
A girl if must she is be in pretty deman^fl hajsR
even tha^J
But Jack noticed
carefully that crumbs put avajgjJ|
friend’s cot
It wa M
sort.
men in white duck suits and maidens in
airy costumes were walking to and fro on
the broad walk that led to the ballroom.
The regiments were home from Manila.
The summer hotels were crowded, and con¬
versation did not lag for want of a topic.
Each young man felt himself a hero as
he detailed to his fair companion the ac¬
count of the voyage to and from Manila,
the active service he had seen, and the
trials of army life.
From Mrs. Van Tweezer’s cottage the
sound of music floated upon the air. Inside
there were a few guests assembled to listen
to the singer of the evening, a young girl
who had studied extensively in the Euro¬
pean centers.
"We will be bored to death, there is
doubt,” Jack Kempster remarked as he
struggled into his dress suit and reflected
that it was over a year since he had worn
the habiliments of civilization.
Later he stood in Mrs. Van Tweezer’s
parlor. By his side was Tom Carpenter,
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beUs are sbueclly ringing*
^ Getting of a •Saviour horn:
“Peace on earth and good Unit bringing*
On this Happy Christmas morn.
tfyUT abvay all gloom and sadness.
■* Hid repining murmurs cease;
Cel our hearts be filled ieith gladness*
For the bells are ringing " Peace /"
somewhat lame yet from the ugly wound
he had received in the Manila days, but
still genial and pleasant.
"Do you know the name of the singer?”
Jack queried, as he ran hi* eye over the
room. He received no answer, for at that
moment Torn, who was beside him. gave a
violent start.
% "I think,” said Tom, "my leg is so bad, I
will go ever and sit In the back of the room.
You-do as-you please,-Jack.”
And before Jack Kempster knew It his
friend was gone.
Then there was a little bustle and a hush.
A young woman stood up in front and pre¬
pared tjo sing.
What, she sang Jack never knew. He saw
a visipn of brown hair, with eyes that
mat ; a small, delicate, oval face, and—
ye could it be true? This girl had on
aiade of the very silk that decor-
k box wherein his bit of wedding
Kent. ^sure
Hi of this. He surreptitiously
^Hhebox. into his pocket and pulled out
H Ever since Christmas
it with him, and now he was
last.
^Rtan quivered the applause with subsided excite-
Has
i| found Mr. Kempster be-
evening,” he mur-
■Rationalities ^^introduction were to
H^^thjrtc Mrs. voice.” Van
WMmmdt all, she
OUR ANNUAL SUPPLEMENT.
Is a charming young woman. I should be
pleased to present you to Miss Templeton,
but I saw her just this moment pass
through the door with Mr. Thomas Car-
penter.”
Jack said nothing, but he reflected that
for once Tom had the better of him, and
that when the wedding cake came it was
Tom who had said: "A girl must be pretty
hard up to do this.”
Out on the veranda Miss Templeton sat
in a steamer chair with her hands clasped
before her. By her side, perched on the
railing and opening and shutting her fan as
he spoke. Tom Carpenter was holding forth
on the beauties of Manila.
"And to think we should meet here,” mur-
mured Miss Templeton, softly.
As she said this, Tom looked at her dress.
“Do you know,” he said at length, "a
curious thing happened? We boys had
each of us a Christmas box from home. It
was awfully jolly and nice and we were
delighted with the contents and the thought
that there were people at home who really
cared for us. Well, six of us fellows re¬
ceived h a tiny box filled with wedding
cake, SBO there was a letter with it.”
Tom paused purposely. The girl at his
side sat motionless.
"Do you want to know what was in the
letter?" he asked at last.
"Yes," she said, quietly, her brown eyes
fixed apparently, on the Japanese lanterns
that swayed to and fro in the breeze.
Tom went on: “It was from a girl, and
she said she was tired of being a bridemaid
and—”
“O!” exclaimed Miss Templeton, rising
It suddenly, is time "I really must again.” go Into the house.
my to sing
"Not until you have heard me, Eliza¬
beth,” and the name came naturally to
Tom’s lips. “Confess that you wrote it.
Did you think one of them would fall into
my hands?"
Elizabeth attempted to flee, but Tom de¬
tained her.
“I know your writing. Have I not treas¬
ured up enough to know it in Egypt? I am
a lame soldier, Just returned from war. I
haven’t much to live on, but 1 love you,
Elizabeth, and have for years. Will you
let me tell you so now?”
As he said this Tom took Elizabeth’s
hands in his and looked gravely into he^
face.
"Come,” he said, opent arms.
fessRouseritthelfl^j
,A
erablt. There you had gone off without
saying a word and—and when I heard you
were wounded I—I thought I would die.
I—I didn’t dare send the letter and cake
just to you alone, so I sent six pieces and
trusted to luck that you might get one.”
“Elizabeth, you’re a trump,” said Tom,
softly, as he stroked her head. "I always
thought so, and now I know it, and I am
the happiest man in all the world.”
» « i
The next morning Jack Kempster said
nothing as he listened to the confidences of
his friend Tom Carpenter,
“Why don’t you ask who the lady is?”
asked Tom, in a tone of disappointment,
“When a man is going to marry his friends
^usually are interested enough to ask the
girl's name.”
"Because I know already,” was the la-
conic reply of Kempster, as he walked over
to the grate.
There was a fire In it to take off the chill
in the room, but Jack shivered a little as he
CH'RISTMAS! Joyful tvordt
A *J~tueet and clear the anthem rings:
“Gill the inmost heart is stirred
XtJith the happiness it brings.
eJTMEA CE on earth good trill totoard men/*
Ttfith the tuords toe’ll end all strife.
Galgsxg up the threads again
Go b»ea-Oe a purer, nobler life.
EMILY H. WATSON, in Atlanta Constitution.
threw in the lid of a box covered with white
silk wrought in rosebuds.—Chicago Daily
Tribune.
THE DAY AFTER.
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THE NEW YEAR.
We Should Not Be Discouraged by the
Fealvires of the Past.
It is hard to tell whether the beginning
of the New Year is the more full of hope¬
fulness or regret. Of course the day is
nothing. Every day marks the beginning
of a new year; but, while all Christendom
is fastening its thought upon this point of
time as the close of one period and the
commencement of another, serious persons
can hardly help making an appraisement
of the past and a forecast of the future.
They think of what they have done and
what they have omitted to do; of the losses
and gains of the year, and it may well fall
out that the debit side of the ledger carries
a discouraging balance. But we make a
pretty unfortunate mistake if we let the
failures and disappointments of the past
cloud our horizon. Many lives are like cen¬
tury plants—they burst into bloom only
after a long and tedious interval. The hard
work, the patient endurance, the courage
in bearing losses and trials, at length on
some favored day bring forth their result,
and the man is suddenly overwhelmed at
the transformation of his life in the frui¬
tion of long-cherished hopes. No one of
us can tell when we are standing on the
verge of such a crisis. Many a man, like
Saul at Gilgal, has become discouraged'just
too soon, and, lo! a little after he has com¬
mitted himself to. a false and weak policy
the prophet has come, and he finds that
he has missed the prize that was almost
within his grasp. That is our New Year’s
greeting to the thousands of friends who
read this. No matter how dark and dis¬
couraging the outlook may be, have faith
in yourselves and in the good providence
of God, and may this year bring you the
fruitage of your hopes, the transformation
of life which is as wonderful and yet as
possible as the change which comes to the
earth In May, when the warm rains and
the mounting sun suddenly work r-
acle of the springtime, when the n
barren earth, as in response blooms_^fl
an invisible wand.
Bob* atchm
New Year, 1901®
pARTIN < 3 ^* V
jW i 'NMfcCf OOD-BY, old
good-by! year,
■ You have not
brought me wealth;
You have not raised
But m> high.
you have left me healthr-
Good-by, old year, and as you go
My praises go with the thee:
You leave me toiling up the hill,
I see you passing on, but still
Hope lingers here with me!
Good-by, good-by, old year!
You have not made me great;
Beyond, new tasks appear.
And I must work and wait—
Good-by, old year, but as you go
Still bear my praise away.
Since I may toil, and toiling, hold
Within my breast the faith of old
That sights a coming day.
Good-by, old year, good-by!
You have not brought me fame;
You leave no honors I
May proudly rush to claim—
Good-by, old year—yet. as you leave,
O take my praise along,
Since I may still through hopeful eyes
Perceive far distant glories rise
And sing a hopeful song.
Good-by, good-by, old year!
The way is rough before.
And strewn along the rear
Are dreams I’ll dream no more!—
Good-by, old year, and let me sing
Thy praise as best I can,
Since I am loved and still may love
And since thou hast not robbed me of
A fair man’s faith in man!
—S. E. Kiser, in Chicago Times-Herald.
THE BUSINESS MAN
And His Encounter with the Little
Jevck-in-the-Box.
31 -jjQHE the man street, strode with down his
Jyl Ay to overcoat his chin buttoned and his up
I (QB sfaj 1 eyes tal fixed of on figures, a men-
page
\V which he marshaled
V> and marched, to his
■fX apparent satisfac-
tion, with dollar
^ marks for officers
ft and orderlies. He
mk slipped through the
hurrying throng with
1 &/I\ the deftness born of
^' habit, seeing every-
thing in a mechan¬
ical way, but heed¬
ing nothing in his
preoccupation. A
crowd filled the side¬
walk in front of one of the big stores, and,
having by this time maneuvered his troops
of figures into a satisfactory order with a
nice fat dollar mark at their head, he
paused a moment, impelled by the mag¬
netism of numbers, to look where others
were gazing. full of
It was only a big show window
Christmas toys. To the man, engrossed by
the enticing game of business in which he
was now an acknowledged champion,
Christmas meant nothing but a popular
dissipation, a mild craze like a street
pageant or any other diversion, a carnival
time for people who had no absorbing oc¬
cupations to steady them, a period of pub¬
lic enthusiasm to be mildly wondered at.
He was about to pass on with a contempt¬
uous sniff when up in one corner of the
window his eye caught sight of something;
that changed the whole tenor of his;
thoughts. Just a cheap little Jack-in-the-
box it was, almost the only toy in the win¬
dow that was not a “novelty” of fin-de-
siecle ingenuity, and it stood up saucily-
jeering at him with the same grotesque
face that had frightened him as a boy.
In a twinkling the crowd had disappeared,
and the show window, glittering with tin¬
sel and color, was transformed into a home¬
ly scene, where two boys, still in their
night gowns, stood before a wide hearth,
upon which a merry Christmas morning
fire crackled and spluttered away, casting
its ruddy glow upon the contents of the
well-tilled stockings, which were being
eagerly emptied. They both had a Jack-
in-the-box, he and bi'other Tad, but his
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THEY BOTH HAD A JACK-IN-THE-BOX.
was opened first. He could remember yet
how Tad had shrieked with delight at his
fright. It was only a flash picture—the
vitascope of memory had gone back so
many years that It startled him when he
reckoned their number—but it was a bright
picture, and it brought a sudden unwonted
moisture to his eyes.
Tad had been the gay one of the two, and
he the grave one, but they had been great
chums nevertheless all through the school
days, and even after. Then there was a
girl, and Tad won her, and so the man
went to the city and wooed and .won suc¬
cess, and forgot everything else fill forget¬
ting came naturally and loneliness became
a habit. There had been no estrangement,
only neglect, a neglect of—let’s see, si*A
eight, by George, ten years this C
The man moved away from th I
and new the and grinning softened Jack-in-tjy^fl light IjflR
a
"By gad," he said,
Tad’s address. Must
mas kids box.”— by this tlme^TM^ffl
