Newspaper Page Text
a\mSTMAS.18H
u-- a - rWW &a
kJJ! I
|v ?
Pm HERE’S Polly: such lot
a
that Santa Claus
Must ’tend to
Ml. when he b'glns,
i I feel a little anx
ious, cause
He might forget we’re twins.
S’posen he’d peek in at our bed
’Bout ’leven or bait-past ten.
And say: “There's Dolly Brookses'bead.
And—Dolly Brooks again!”
And then he'd pull our stockings down.
And shake his head, and say,
With such a dreadful stingy frown:
“She can't fool me that way!”
Dolly:
Poor Polly wouldn't have a thing.
How terr’ble that would be!
For every single toy he’d bring
He'd s'pose would b’long to me.
Polly! let’s take our picture books
Before we go to bed,
Marked “Polly Brooks” and “Dolly Brooks?’
And hang them overhead.
Then, when old Santa comes our way.
He'll smile the biggest grins,
And tiptoe 'round the bed, and say:
“What have we here? Ah, twins!”
—Outlook.
l \ i - * /
v'S *
V.
1
TACKS of mon¬
ey all around!
: Stoutlittle can¬
A vas sacks bulg¬
ing full of gold
and tied to¬
gether at the neck withstrongcord; neat
little paper rolls of silver dollars piled
up in .pyramid form, and heaps and
heaps of packages of bills counted and
done up in little paper bands! Some
of these packages were of one-dollar
bills and some of fives and some of tens;
others of twenties and fifties and one
hundreds. They were stacked up at
the back of the desk where Thomas
Tippy was at work in the bank, for he
was a teller of some sort, or under¬
teller, or something which entailed a
great deal of work and very little pay,
as positions of responsibility often do.
As one looked through the little brass
barred window at “Tommy,” as every¬
body in the bank called him, he ap¬
peared to be a veritable money king.
Wealth was all around. Besides being
aU over the two standing desks be¬
tween which he worked, it was stowed
away in drawers, I have no doubt, and
piled up bn the floor.
Tommy was hard at work. It was
the day before Christmas, and people
had been making deposits, and drawing
money, and getting drafts, and doing
all sorts of things which they
will insist on putting off till
the last minute. He was writ¬
ing in an effort to close up affairs for
the day, and his arm rested as he
wrote on a package of one-hundred-dol
lar bills when he glanced up and saw at
the little grating through which he had
to look at the public a pair of big,
greedy eyes set in a very small and very
wan face. The face itself barely
reached above the window-ledge, and
Tommy couldn’t tell whether it be¬
longed to a boy or a girl, it was so
pinched, and hungry, and dirty. The
eyes of the face were devouring the
money, as the eyes of the poor are prone
to do, and the owner of the face seemed
lost in contemplation of the gorgeous
sight.
Then the eyes saw that Tommy was
looking at them and shifted to meet his
own. .Tommy noted that they brown, were
singularly beautiful eyes of
with long, curving lashes. He must
have been looking into them with a
very kindly gaze, for they seemed to
read in his look a friendliness that
made their owner bold.
“Please, mister,” said a small voice,
which evidently came from the owner
of the eyes, “can’t I go on an errun’, er
something, bo's to earn a little Chris’mus
stake?”
The owner of the eyes evidently took
Tommy for thd owner of all the wealth
around him, and of the whole institu¬
tion as well, and had a notion that if he
chose he could hand out a bag of gold
eoin or two or three of the thick slabs
k 1rr
»
i I
• parity 1-WAITH' EXB TE.”
issstsSsTiSS
flustered Tommy that he could do noth¬
ing for a moment but stare at the big
brown eyes and grow red in the face.
Finally he said:
“Why. you see—ahem—it’s—it’s—’’
And here the watchman came along
and, seeing the ragged little owner of
the face, hustled him out with some
scornful remarks about beggars. As
the little fellow disappeared through
the door and down the outside steps
Tommy saw a slight figure tattered and
shivering. And then the doors swung
shut and Tommy turned to his work,
with all of his own troubles crowded
out of mind and only sympathy for the
poor little waif occupying his thoughts
He forgot all about the load of obli¬
gation that was on him and his hope¬
less struggles to extricate himself from
the quicksand of debt into which he had
floundered in his efforts to care for his
urn,
'1
i^i 1
,! ;ii
liny
I'i;
i 1 1
n.: : : ‘ ? WW W _>* -> . impact:' - ,'il > ili<ii]|i.!iill,!!ili 1 ir / ' . J
\
- - - V i?
{ I S
’“■v - Ir 4l : tl
♦ !
'*v.
» f
l
' I / p®
l I &r K\ S- / . u> / / ^ ‘ jV;
\
J >
h 4/! // I N
‘ : "1 rii **
/ Fr My I /■-* \ *&■: , ■4
“•* ti ■■ $ f
v .'Hi 1 ■» JL i \\
!#P .*• I fgtsvun*. (. •u/
. / . i*
a F # I S
i ■ / ^jih'.'.. &#*•' V i i i t t-
4 ■/ -t’'t/X. t l ■i ■
at* .f$A ^ jiwr- c ft?- •• r ■;w« - \ J ,nr.
iif * «w>n» :i * /* v !i ; ‘J i ■ 1 :»i'ii;
Swl " #>" # «:l
La? i: k 3F ii • - 'lj|||( Wt if
J m K |H» 4*2
msi A ^ jjjir
B&ivM - v will • " wm*’ *
S&g£- ■>M4 : 1 if. Li i 4 ' jr tilnlitlr MpritJ
■ r { ... -i
'*■ ♦* > r iw
2 A • m %v i 1 - s
*!*•' v* . ■ —
BE K? % r. 1mm ", >. V |« ftjl
: y
. . . : J, . ;! „
J
V? 11& I gBij
V
Lr r$
•V Ai
.fps -.»i iiii
Tf#«. s
* — n'i y.
■*vwc /•
fMp if- !
mm AA's
T‘f w-t
rr
m&m
aU
A RACE FOR A HOLIDAY DIMMER.
poor old mother and a helpless invalid
sister in a little Wisconsin town. The
load had been infinitely heavier
bv a sad accident to his mother, which
>, Q ^ resulted in a broken limb and
which had necessitated nurses and in
creased doctors’ bills and no end of ex
Dense during the fall and Tommy had
been obliired to borrow money from a
private Shylock in the bank and pay a
ruinously-usurious interest per month for
the same. He had hazLto send home the big
end of his small salary, too, each month.
and, what between this and the bor
rowsd monev he had run behind in his
board, and was in abont as desperate a
fix as a hard working, honest
and faithful employe ever was. Only
the extreme kindliness of the little old
lady with whom Tommy boarded in a
little old cottage on a little by-street on
the West enabled him to keen his
head above water at all. But he was one
of those stout-hearted fellows of whom
the great world rarely hears, and
wouldn’t let himself get sour or cross.
When at last he had straightened
everything, np and bills,'’ had packed away
the bundles of and the bags of
gold, and the paper rolls with the silver
dollars inside, and bad ran over in his
■ted — all the good he aright do if only a
portion of all this money Mi
•
mum* 1
own, he took down his shabby
from its peg, shook himself into it, put
on his hat, and went out of the bank.
He noticed that the streets were full of
happy, hurrying throngs of people,
most of whom had some package or
bundle, but he wasn’t envious, though
he wished for a moment that he might
have been able to send to his mother
and sister some of the many pretty
things he had seen through * the shop
windows as he walked homeward each
evening.
He started west at a brisk walk for
he couldn’t afford to ride, and it was
crisply cold. He hadn’t gone far when
he noticed a small figure trotting along
by his side. He looked at it and
caught two big brown eyes glancing up
into his own.
It was the boy who had wanted to
earn the “Christmas stake.”
Tommy stopped short, so did the boy.
“Hello!” said Tommy, cheerily,
“Where did you come from?”
“BeeD a-waitin’ fer ye,” piped the
small voice, with equal cheeriness,
“Tought mebbe you might want a
errun’ run som ers.”
“What's vour name?” asked Tommy,
in an admiring tone, his face beaming,
“Chip.”
“Anything else?”
"Nop. Nothin’ but Chip. Ye see,
I’m a bustlin’ fer myself, an’I hain't
had no time to think np names. A lit
tie feller like me don’t ketch on very
easy, you know.”
Tommy had started on and this last
speech had come from the small figure
as it trotted along. He looked down
and saw the big brown eyes looking up
at him. They were beautiful to look
into, and the voice was such a cheery
little voice, without atrace of a whine in
it, that Tommy felt immensely re
freshed
“And what made you pick me out?”
asked Tommy. and—
“Well, I liked your looks,
w’y. you own the bank, don’t you, an’
ail that money, an' ever 1 thing?”
Tommy looked down again and
laughed. Chip looked “ up and laugWd .
It right jolly to
way, and they both felt firstrrate.
Then Tommy said: ~*r
“Well, I don't exactly own the bank.
I’ve only got an interest in it. Say!
To-morrow's Christmas! Know that?' 1
“Bet 1 do!" said Chip; “that's w'y I'm
a hustlin’. I want to be in with the
other good people. I want to eat tur
Icoy.* 1 Tommy, “I
“Well. 1 tell you," said
don’t want any errands done, and I
don’t know of anything 1 can give yop
to do, Chip—"
Here the wan little face looked up
bravely and the big brown eyes stead¬
ied themselves a bit till Tommy had
finished.
“But I’ll take you home with me, if
you like, and you can share my Christ¬
mas dinner with me, whatever it may
be. How's that; eh, old man?"
The big brown eyes in the little pale
face glistened with the tears that
touches of unexpected kindness always
produce in sensitive natures, but the
voice made a great effort to be as brave
and cheery as ever when it replied be
tween shivers;
“I call that- way up in G, an’
you're a pr—prince o' the blood—you
are!”
“Put it there,” said Tommy as he
stepped under a gas lamp and held his
hand to the little great soul by his side,
The cool little hand snuggled confident
Jy in his and the eyes looked back into
his own and tbe bond of intimacy and
warm friendship was complete.
Thereafter Tommy held Chip’s hand
as they tramped along west, and when
they reached the side street in which
he lived. Tommy lifted the thin little
figure in his arms and with Chip s hands
clasped round his neck walked into Hie
presence of kind old Mrs. Bloomer It
was meager fare they had that night,
considered from the standard of high
livers, but Tommy was used'-to it and it
was But simply the luxurious day. after to ChipN^ Tommy had
next
chummed with Chip all forenoon and
got friendly - learned all about him
—which wasn't much, he hadn’t a
friend in the
1 ■
scrubbed him up and fitted him into a
back-number jacket and trousers which
her own boy had worn years and years
ago, before he ran off on a lake schoon¬
er and got drowned—then it came din¬
ner time, and oh, dear! what a feast
that dinner was to Chip. There wasn’t
any turkey, but there was the tenderest
and best stewed chicken that ever Mrs.
Bloomer had cooked, and thegravy was
simply delicious, Then there w'ere
nice, warm biscuit to split in half and
smother with this gravy; and mashed
potatoes and homemade bread and but¬
ter; and to top off with there was the
thickest, and juicest, and sweetest ap¬
ple pie that ever was baked. And Chip
had two glasses of real milk.
And how his big brown eyes sparkled
and bis pale cheeks brightened! What
a merry little fellow he proved to be,
with his quaint sayings and his extrav-
agant admiration of Tommy! And when
dinner was over and Chip was happy as
he could be Tommy got out his har
monica and played dead marches till
Chip was “mighty mgh to bustin’,” as
he himself expressed it.
In the evening Tommy took Chip to
the theater and sat up in the twenty
five cent gallery, and they had the best
time in the world, and wouldnT have
changed places witn the swell people in
the first floor boxes, not on any ac
count. And when they had gone borne
and to bed and Chip had snuggled
down by his side, Tommy asked:
“WTiat are you thinking about, Chip,
old man?*
A small, thin arm stole up over Tom
my s breast and hugged his shoulder
warmly.
I was jist a offenn a bet to myself,”
said Chip, weepily, “that you wasn’t
nothin’ less’n own brother to Santy
Claua. Ain’t y tT
Bnt before Tommy could answer
happy little Chip was far afloat on
dreamland's deligh tful a.Dd
living over again the I pleasures of the
day, while in Tommy's there
crooned a soothing more tweet
an;
aU the to
V. p.-
NEW VEAE,1835.
fcSTOfi * t
v &ts
•y iK
;
P '
II _
E SAT beside
a the old-tint*
9 V ruddy fleams,
a We talked old-time about
the
things, and
dreamed til*
old-time dreams;
And wife was at her knlttln,' while I was
But both of us was thinkin' of a Christinas long
ago.
We old folks—well, we ain't so much on Chris*
mas nowadays. all
Although the Lord has led us 'long on our
wanderin’ ways;
But, sittln’ by the old fireplace, the brighh
Hames seem to glow Christum*
And light a little face we loved one
—long ago!
A little face—the sweetest face of all the vil¬
lage girls, rimmed
Like spring's red roses blossomin’
'round with golden curls;
A face we’ve kissed—a face we’ve missed for
many a'Weary year;
(How sweet the Christmas time would be if
thnt dear face was near!)
—— ----------------- ----------------^
We didn't think John good enough for Mary,
but you, see,
Her mother—she was always jes' so much too
good for me. away—and
That though they took and run
though It seemed a crime,
1 eutd I’d look It over if they'd come back
Christmas time.
The house. It seems so lonesome, with only
wife an' mo;
An' Christmae ain't like Christmas now, an
nover more will be;
An’ though we thank the Lord for all. we can’t
keep back the sighs,
An’ through the sunshine of the years the rai*
. falls’round our eyes 1 >
They sat beside the flickering Are. and in U»
ruddy gleams old-time things, saa
They talked about the
dreamed the old-time dreams;
The Mary ot the golden ourls. and one wh*
loved her best.
And sweetly dreamed a little one upon thS
mother’s breast.
"11“
_u
III
i
V
*
Sgj <5"
THEY SAT BESIDE THE ELlCKEKIlfO ETMKV
And looking in the taoe of him who
above her there.
And kissed her cheek, and tenderly not
down her golden hair,
She said: “We've been so long away
mother, that I know
Sbe's lonely In the borne we left so many ySSM
ago!"
No other words she said, but be kissed
the tears that came,
And whispered: “If they loved you then, they
love you still the asms;
The old home must be lonely, though tbs lit
Is blazing bright— . Mas
The little one shall plead for us— they'U
him Christmas night!"
And so it was that, while afar o'er tbs
he red dells
Still brightly beamed eaeh Christmas star as*.
pealed the Christmas bells,
Tbe wanderers went borne, and In its I
ness and light
They found a welcome, and a kiss for
Christmas night)
—Frank L. Stanton, in Atlanta ConstltutiOO.
OeflnlU
Our resolutions for tbe new
should be definite and specific. Do
say simply that yon will be more lib
eral. but say just bow liberal yon
be. Do not say that you will be j
faithful, but say just what da
neglected in the past, you will e*j
to perform in the future. Do
promise that you will give UKU
your time to the service of the Ma
but decide upon the proportion of J i aw
time which you will give. A promt—
may be almost or altogether worthleaa
because of indefiniteness. Let us
honestly and reverently with
whom we serve. Vow and pay.— ■
United Presbyterian.
SANTA CLADS IN CHICAGO.
<fUVA10S
S?©'
w>j i
k .1 .
m W i
to %
Santa Clan*—Take mt
boy. t tried to J -M get that
a , . . ,
way