Newspaper Page Text
Christmas, 1900.
A
a , 1 ’Twill Y When dreadfully nothing STOCKING hold Santa at next small; ail Claus to is
<1 brings
His toys and
things—
A to op and a knife
and a ball.
“I’ll hang one of grandpa's in line
And Santa will think it is mine,
And in they will go.
From the top to the toe,
His presents so jolly and fine.
“What a capital joke it will be!
O dear, if I only could see
How he’ll open his eyes,
And stare with surprise—
Then hurry and fill it for me!”
At night on a keen, frosty breeze,
When moonlight was gilding the trees,
He came in a hush.
With a rattle and rush.
And Teddy’s big stocking he sees.
“Well! .well!” shid the merry old chap,
“I’ll give him, I think, a fur cap.
I’d like if I can
To suit the old man
While he is enjoying his nap.”
Next morning with laughter and shout,
The children came tripping about.
All dancing with glee,
Their stockings to see,
With Santa Claus’ gifts peeping out.
“That monster big stocking’s for me,”
Cried Ted, with a chuckle of glee.
“It’s cram full of toys.
Do look at it, boys!
Just wait till I show you—now see!”
Then Teddy lay back with a moan,
And cried with a sob and a groan—
“O how could he make
Such an awful mistake?
I wish I had hung up my own.”
—Sydney Dayre, in Christian Work.
-A-
HowIHIe = =9 f % / w fi m
Wui’i His
A
RINICLES of care
furrowed the fore¬
Mi head of John How¬
ard, wholesale leath¬
er merchant of New
V) It .'III York, as he sat in
the library of his
home, and his hair
was tossed into disorder by the combing
of his nervous fingers. His dull eyes gazed
into the red depths of a great fire, but
read no crimson pictures there.
This was the man the world had called
“complacent John Howard.”
Eight years before, when he married,
people expected a change in his habits,
but they were disappointed. He had inerc-
ly added another part to his t'chmefy-
He had carefully chosen the kind of woman
who would helplessly become a part, of a
machine.
When children came they, too, were com¬
pelled to become parts of the orderly, silent
machine controlled by John Howard. Meek
little mites they were. No one suspected
that they were children.
There were three of them; Mary, a girl
of seven; Anna, a girl of five, and John, a
boy of four. By direction of John Howard,
good, plain names were given to them,
names that would wear. Meek Mrs. How¬
ard would have chosen differently, but she
was not consulted.
When the children came, John Howard
laid down the rules for their conduct and
keeping; and never afterward bothered
himgelf about them. If he saw them once
a day it was by accident. One of his rules,
conditions, was that he was never to hear
them, save when he wished. As a result
John Howard was a father without chil¬
dren—and the children had a living father,
but were fatherless.
All this would have continued but for
one, inevitable, little incident in life called
“death”—for death, after all, is a part of
life, and dying very often the main part
of living. The entrance of Mrs. Howard
into the life of her husband had made no
perceptible change in it. Her death had
thrown every part of it out of gear. There
were three waifs in his house who came
at his bidding and looked at him in a fright¬
ened sort of way.
“How was he to win the love of his chil¬
dren?”
How John Howard longed to enter that
play room! But he never dared. He was
afraid his entrance would drive them forth,
and he realized that this room was their
own little world. Sometimes, in agony,
he listened at the door, and learned how
different they were from other children.
How he longed for them to ask him for
something! M'hat joy he would take in
granting them any wish! But they had
been brought up to ask for nothing, to ex¬
pect nothing, save on one day in the year.
That day was Christmas.
On that day they could expect wonderful
new presents, they knew, from a mys¬
terious person called Santa Claus, The
late Mrs. Howard had cultivated this one
dear illusion in them, and so perfectly that
they never dreamed that either she or their
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New Engiand school-teacher for this celi-
cate position; and in less than a week she
succeeded, by perseverance and industry,
in casting more of a shadow over tfie lives
of the three waifs than ever John Howard
bad. But the waifs had been taught not
to complain, and John Howard knew noth-
ing about it.
One lingering hope remained m his
breast. Cohld he make the coming Christ-
mas so happy for his children that he could
win their love? He resolved that he would
take charge of the holiday himself, and the
preparations he made for it were extrava-
gant. The presents purchased for ail the
Christmas celebrations at his
house were as nothing compared to the
array that stood before him on the floor,
on tables and on chairs, this Christmas
when he sat so broken in heart before
grate fire.
Something had happened. A mistake had
been made. The New England school-
teacher, in the interests of white-winged
truth, had told his children there was no
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COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY A, N. KELLOGG NEWSPAPER CO.
Old Father ZSime — *‘'COhat! Cfcoo of you. this timer
JP'JT'PFCTAfJT and tvith open hands
He lavished to gi-Oc a bueicome to
_/r coming guest bvho’d soon be due,
•/* urprised. in place of one sees tbvo!
young J'fctv 3 fear before him stands.
^ ^/Ind on his shoulders strong and true
Inother youngster brings to •oiebu.
With streaming banner bright and netv:
Santa Claus. This he had learned while
listening at the door of their playroom that
afternoon. And he, who had so carefully
rehearsed the part of Santa Claus for the
performance that night, felt that it would
be a hollow mockery, now that they knew,
as we all do some day, too much.
With a promptness and decision that had
characterized him always in business, John
Howard peremptorily dismissed the New
England school-teacher, giving her a
month’s salary and no explanation for his
strange conduct. The children should have
the hollow mockery of Christmas 2 t any
rate. But the essence of it was gone. He
had heard his children declare, between
sobs, that they would never hang up their
stockings again, and after all it is the
stocking and not the tree that is the es¬
sence of Christmas—and the mystery of
mysteries thereof is the wonderful fact
that Santa Claus can spend so much time
and take so much pains in filling stockings.
But John Howard was human. He liim-
Si lad looked forward to this Chris
greater expectations than had any of
food and put on his dress-
A^ymers. Th en., with a* a
v,
OUR ANNUAL SUPPLEMENT.
he began to fill the stockings. It was.slow
work. He had seen his wife do it once,
He had watched her then in a mechan-
ical sort of way. it was on the preceding
Christmas eve. She was ill and nervous
and afraid to go about the house alone.
in a grumbling, protesting way he had
accompanied her.
How glad he was now that he had! He
dropped a moderately heavy object into
the «.oe ol each stocking- to hold it down—
ihen an orange to make it capacious.
fbis he slipped in a present for the
of a surprise, and on top of the present he
PJ“t a ‘ tick—tick—tick” layer of candy. He wondered that
jne they dropped did not awaken of the candies as
children. the sleeping
He was slow at the work. It was early
dawn when he finished. He blew out the lit-
tie night lamp and sank into a chair, bun
-
mg his face in his hands, and his heart In
memories. Suddenly he looked up and saw
has three children standing about him in
the arc of a circle.
“It’s papa.” cried his eldest girl, rushing
into his arms. "Papa is Santa Claus. It
is papa who has been so good to us and we
haven’t loved him.”
“It’s papa,” echoed the younger daugh-
ter.
“Papa—Santy Close,” said the boy.
And they, too, sidled up to him and clung
to him. their little eyes beaming with love.
And then John Howard knew that his
stocking had been filled also-with the love
of h;s chtldren.-Tom Hall, m The Criterion,
j
; A Reminder for Papa,
The children were making their plans for
Christmas, and their mother was helping
them, while their father was deep in his
evening paper. But he could, hear, and
this is what he heard:
“What are you going to give papa?”
asked the mother,
“I think.” said the eldest, thoughtfully,
“that I will give him an alarm clock.”
“An alarm clock!” declaimed the moth¬
er. “Why do you want to give him an
alarm clock?”
“Because.” answered the child, with an
■larneStiK'SS that showed she had given the
■usonie thought, “if he has an alarm
S’me 1 h£e h t e o W dJ£r ”-Chi-
SLEEPING HEARTS.
--—
How Old Farmer Pettigrew Wa-kened
Vo P to CKristma* Realities.
. L d FARMER PET-
* 1 TIGREW was driv-
ing along the pike
'I __ ■-§ toward the county
* town, the grays go-
Jp. jjpr ® ing at a brisk rate,
1 ' that
“There’s
young Evans walk-
ing," he said to him-
' -'•? self. “He is dressed
. •. up as if he was go-
ing to catch t h e
■ \ 4 ^ • train.”
“Going up the road, Bob,” he said, as he
passed the younger man. “I’m bound for
town.”
“I was going down by the train, but don’t
mind riding behind your grays.” laughed
the other, climbing in, “that is, if you’ll
agree to bring my stuff back.”
1 TTPOJV its folds a legend reads
Of the JVetv Century Just born.
\7pon this Happy JVebtj gear's morn.
Co grace the pages and adorn
record made of coming deeds
w By Father Time. Hobv fitting m tis
{Che tveight of many years is his )
Cime counts his age by centuries!
/. M. E,
“So ’tain’t two wagon loads,” was the
retort. He liked Bob Evans because he
joked and laughed and was good company.
"What’ll your load be?” he asked Bob,
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THE FIRST TIME IN TEN YEARS.
as the hard mud flew frcm under the
.'orses , feet.
“Not much weight,” laughed his com¬
panion. “Christmas gifts. This is the time
hen a little hey buys a lot of things
■whe an
pen d-
ing money for Christmas. There’s no one
but me and mother now. We’d look fine
making Christmas presents.”
“That you would,” replied Evans heart-
ily. “and it would make good old -\ U nt
Pettigrew feel ten years younger. I wish
> ou would.”
“Now, Bob,” exclaimed the older mar
“are you in earnest?”
“Never was more so. She is often lone-
some since your daughter moved west sho
would be not only surprised, but hannv
“What are you going to get Yddio*”"
“Me? O I've been planning for month,
A new dress for one thing. Book* C »T%
wanted and some little knick-knacks Vnth
ing is than too good for my wife. Sh.-'rW,.,, '
more I can ever give her. Rut I’m
getting some things for mother too i
wouldn't forget her. We’ll go over to
morrow be over our afternoon presents.” and see how happy =h e ’li
“I never did give anvthir.g ChrS,” cxcent a
candy to the children on as said
the old man. ’
About the middle of the afternoon Bob
Evans hurried into the big dry goods store
after numerous bundles. He was surprised
to see o’d Farmer Pettigrew sitting at a
counter near the front while an obsequious
clerk was holding up folds of gray silk.
Bob was so glad that he stopped to aid in
the selection, and then went on his way.
It was nearly dark when the two men met
at the livery stable. Old Farmer Petti¬
grew was as excited as a boy.
“Say, Bob, I bought her a chair, too,
and a comb, and candy, And I’pa kind of
ashamed to give them to her. And I sent
Minnie ten dollars, registered letter, you
know.” /
Bob shook the old man’s hand. \
“I’m glad I came in with yoti-. I just
wish I could see auntie when you give
those things to her.”
“I’ll tell you about it, Bob.”
when But Bob he did went not over introduce .the next t i |je_
J c
young man followed him out
lot and asked him about th
Farmer Pettigrew looked &tJ
solemnly, a sort of quiver thern^B aH
”vV*ell, when I laid Boh^H.
Christmas morning, out^H
out. She didn't come thc^H
I peeped in through Mat
she was n. h< r kn> • .
didn’t calculate it M M
such effect. Bob."
Boh’.-
Jk H
New Year, 1901.
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---—
A M E those mon-
archs, grave and
hoar,
^.With ■) goodly their store. gifts a
Gold and ftankin-
cense and myrrh,
On that holy night of yore—
Ator, Sator, Sarasin,
In their hallowed purpose kin,
Following the guiding star,
Each a sacred goal to win.
Did they bear their offerings,
Such a wealth of precious things,
Unto one of princely place,
Sprung, like them, from earthly kings?
Nay, but to an infant born
In a lowly spot forlorn.
Yet around whose glorious face
Shone a halo like the morn!
For a spirit unto each
Spake in no uncertain speech,
Saying: “In a manger lies
One who God to man shall teach;
“One who shall the night o’erthrow,
Bearing heaven with Him below—
Love that triumphs over hate,
Peace and joy that conquer woe.”
So those monarchs, men of fame,
Bowed before Him, blessed His name.
Laid their offerings at His feet,
Passed as swiftly as they came.
Stretch the years, a checkered chart.
Since they- played their deathless part.
Yet to-day may we. like them,
Giving, hold the Christ at heart.
—Clinton Scollard, in Woman’s Home Com¬
panion.
WORKS NOTHING BUT GOOD.
Two-Fold Benefits Dorived from Mark¬
ing New Year Resolutions.
Notwithstanding the army of very wise
and very cynical people who sneer at New
Year's resolutions, I’m going to boldly an¬
nounce myself here as one who believes in
them. I do not hesitate to say that I have
made them every year since I was old
enough to think about such things, and I
expect to keep it up as long as I live. More¬
over, I want my girls to get into the same
habit, for I consider it good ar.d helpful-
But, girls, don’t take it up as a pastime,
or confide in anyone who happens to be
present. Be in earnest about it. Go away
by yourself for a little while and examine
your character honestly. Don't make ex¬
cuses to yourself because there are flaws
in it; don’t attempt to lay the blame upon
anyone else; don't console yourself with the
thought that you are no worse than your
neighbor. , Shut out all the world, face
your conscience bravely, and he honest
with yourself, if only for a little hall' hour.
It cannot help but do you good.
Character is spmi thing we build for our¬
selves. We, and we alone, are responsible
for it. We have no right to'asserf that en¬
vironment or hereditary influences prevent
us from reaching our own ideals. There is
nothing but our own moral laziness to pre¬
vent us from being what we really want
to be.
The benefits arising from the making of
New Year resolutions are twofold. It iB
good for us to acknowledge a fault and wjsh
to overcome it; it is good for us to resolve
to do better, even if the resolution is des¬
tined to be broken, for th^ soul lives on
these breaths from the upper realms of
life.—Minneapolis Housekeeper.
A Hint for CHrlstmas.
Here is a hint for those who are too poor
to give many Christmas gifts: write Christ¬
mas letters. It is the thoughtfulness and
the love that count, not the gift itself.
Choose among your acquaintances a dozep
lonely ones, whether poor or rich, old or
young, and have a letter to each ready to
mail in time to reach its destination on
Christmas morning. No matter about hav¬
ing any news to write; just good wishes,
and a tithe of the good words you will
speak about your friend after he is dead.
They will warm his heart now, which is
far better. It is the season to give; and the
only thing at all worth giving is oneself.—
Chicago Standard.
SH© Knew.
Sunday School Teacher (illustTating the
workings of conscience)—What is it, chil¬
dren, that makes you feel uncomfortable
when you have eaten all your Christmas
candy and not given any of it to your little
friends who had none of their own?
Little Ethel Beenthere—Tumdch-ache,
ma’am.—Judge.
Don’t Go by Talk.
“Talk ortn’t to be relied on too much,”
said Uncle Eben. “ ’Tain’ necessarily de
man dat made de mos’ New Year’s resolu¬
tions dat’s goin’ ahead livin’ de mos’ or¬
derly an’ ’spectable.”—Washington Star.
A BIG FAVOR..
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Gerrgle—M,'. 1 fill you do me a favor?
Mother-—Y es, you don’t ask too big a
efe. good-sized
Gecrgie—Wei a pretty uf
’ bo*-: y one your
one, maw —1
stociin’s t’ hai tfar.sjn qs.—Ohio State
Jo
^^little VKIapinj.
Tommy so sad on
‘■hristmas day?” asked Fos-
-ts are all unbreakable,” re-
Nxown Topics.
o'
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V. Doubt.
u going to get
loblemen are
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