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T was the day be-
/ I fore Christmas,
H and the snow was
[■ falling thick and
m fast. Among the
£& ” people who hast-
1H Qned along the
P A Western streets of city, a large
was
ji^i, =ajT a lady, accom-
panied by two
■ little girls, appar-
ently twins. All
fk were poorly clad,
<■ and shivered, as
the cold wintry
up wind rushed
f down the nearly
deserted street.
“Oh! mamma
dear,” cried one
of the little girls, as they were ap¬
proaching a large shop, where many
lovely holiday toys were displayed,
“this must be one of Santa Claus’
shops.”
“Let’s go in,” pleaded the other
little girl, “I do so want to see all the
pice things.”
‘ * ‘My “1 dear children, ’’said of the mother,
Badly, can get none fche pretty
books or toys for you; I wish I could,
but, you know, we are very, very
ppor. ”
“Well we could just look at ’em, if
WO can’t have ’em,” they cried.
“Well, my dears, you shall see
them,” said their mother, gently.
*'* “Oh! mamma.” one of them ex¬
claimed, “I just wish I could have a
lixce dolly, just like this one, that the
lady has just laid down here; why, do
you know, mamma, it shut its eyes
just as tight as I do when I go to
sleep.’*
“Ah! Bessie, my dear child,” said
her mother, “I am afraid you will only
be discontented when you get home.”
“No, no, I’m— only just wishing,”
Baid little Bessie.
All this lime a young girl had been
standing near, watching the children
and writing in, a note-book.
“Come, children,” said the mother
at last, “we must be going now, it is
nearly four o’clock.”
The little group passed out, and the
young girl followed them.
“Mamma,” said Jessie, “what would
yon like to have for a Christmas pres¬
ent? ’
Molly Dean, the young girl who had
watched closely the children in the shop, was
following them; she hastened
her steps that she might hear the
mother’s answer. The mother sighed
as she answered her little daughter’s
question:
“Ah! my dear, if I could have your
papa back again, I would be satisfied.
But the sea seldom gives back its
dead.” She added, a moment later,
as if to herself : “Not my will, dear
Lord, but Thine.”
Molly followed them into au alley-
way. The street was dirty, aud the
houses were poor. The children and
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“and then hung dp their stockings.”
their mother entered one of the small¬
est houses. Molly looked about her
curiously; she had never been in such
9 place before, although she was
nearly sixteen. Soon she turned and
hastened back to the shop. She
handed her note-book to a clerk, tell¬
ing him to have the articles, she had
written down, all ready when she re¬
turned for them, which, she said,
would be iu the evening. She also
told him she would send some other
purchases there, which she would call
for at ths same time.
“Dear me,” she thought, as she
hastened homeward, “I wish I could
give that lady her husband. I can
give the children all they wished for,
but her wish I am powerless to grant.”
She entered a handsome stone
house in the most aristocratic part of
the city, and rushed into the library,
where a gentleman sat reading.
“Oh, Uncle Dick!” she cried,
eagerly, “I’ve got some work for you
to do.”
“What is it, my huckleberry?”
asked her uncle in a teazing tone, as
he pulled her onto his knee.
He was a tall man, whose naturally
Bad face always brightened when he
was speaking to her; for she was his
favorite niece. And she thought there
never was an uncle like him.
“Well,” said Molly, “I want you to
put on your big white far coat (when
it’s nice and dark). And then you’d
better wear a fur cap and some false
whiskers, some great long, white ones,
and take a nice big sack, and then
we’ll—but I guess I won’t tell you
the rest just now.”
“Oh! ho! I guess I see! You're
going to make a Santa Claus of me.”
“Don’t ask any questions, but just
do as I tell you to,” said Molly.
When it wa3 quite dark, Molly and
her uncle started out to make their
visit.
“What a .splendid Santa Claus he
does make,” thought Molly, as they
walked along. They went to “The
Star, and Mr. Discn (Molly’s uncle)
* vehicle fte .toh# And
Molly, with their many packages, to
the poor little house in the alley.
After Bessie and Jessie had helped
their mother wash the supper dishes
that evening, they got ready for bed,
and then hung up their stockings.
Then their mother called them to
her for the little evening talk. They
talked of the father, whom the chil¬
dren could not remember. He had
been a sailor. And one day he had
sailed from port, leaving behind his
wife and babies; he had never re¬
turned, and, in a few months, news
came that the Lady Gray, the vessel
upon which he had sailed, had been
wrecked. A few months later the
mother moved to another town. She
supported her children by taking in
sewing. She resided there about four
years, then she went to this Western
city.
While the three were busily talking
there came a knock at the door. The
mother opened it; as she stood gazing
out, a man came into the room. He
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had snowy hair, and a long white
beard. He was dressed in fur from
head to foot.
“Santa Claus! Santa Claus!” cried
both children.
When Mr. Dixon saw the face of
the woman before him he started to¬
ward her, then stopped and looked at
the children.
“Are there any good children here?”
he asked, in a gruff voice.
“Oh! we ^tried to be good,” said
Bessie.
“Then,” said their visitor, “just
tell me your names.”
“My name is Bessie, aud hers is
Jessie, and we’re twins. Please, is
your name Santa Claus'?”
But Santa Claus did not answer. He
threw down the great sack he carried,
and began to take out the things.
First, the provisions, then the toys,
and last the clothing and some peanuts
and candy. The little girls were
shouting and laughing, happy as
could be.
Santa Claus, as the children called
him, turned at last to the mother, who
stood amazed.
“Madam,” he said, “your wish was,
I believe, that your husband might
come back to you again.”
The lady looked amazed. “How do
you know my wish,” she asked.
“Because I am that Christmas pres-
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THE ENCHANTED LAND.
ent,” he cried, as he tore off the false
whiskers and wig. ,
Mrs. Dixou only cried, “Dick.”
Just then Molly came in. She had
been waiting at the door.
“Molly,” said her uncle, “this is
your Aunt Lucy.”
Molly kissed her aunt, then she
hugged and kissed the twins. “Oh!
to think yon are my cousins, and I
never,knew it.”
Mr. Dixon took.his little girls upon
his knees, and Molly and Mrs. Dixon
sat, one on each side of him. Then
Mr. Dixon told them the story of the
past years.
He had grasped a floating spar when
the vessel sank, and for days ho had
8€l Finally
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toward it, and it was two years
before he again stood upon his native
Then Mrs. Dixon related the story
of her trials and sorrow. They sat
for a long time talking of the strange
events.
“To think,” cried Molly, “how we’ve
lived right in the same city all this
time, and within a half mile of each
other.”
“Let us thank God,” said Mr. Dixon,
“for His great love and divine mercy.”
They knelt down, and he offered up
a prayer for their reunion.
“We must be going,” said Mr.
Dixon, after prayer, as they still talked.
Mrs. Dixon dressed herself and the
children in the new warm clothes; they
locked the door of the little house,
and all entered the waiting carriage.
Thus they left the old life, of toil and
poverty, for one in which they would
never know want.
An Exquisite Effect.
While the candle in the socket is
still the common method of lighting
the Christmas tree, a most exquisite
effect is produced bv the use of tiny
incandescent lights, when expense
need not be taken into consideration.
These are scattered all over the tree,
and protected by small glass globes.
A slight pressure of the lever, and the
tree bursts into rosy, radiant bloom.
A New Way of Distributing; Presents.
Let one corner of the room where
the Christmas festivities are to take
place be fitted up as a postoffice, and
another corner made to represent a
bank. Have ready in the postoffice,
envelopes, each bearing the name of
the one who is to receive a gift, and
in each envelope a “check” in favor
of the one to whom the envelope is
addressed. This check may read as
follows:
North Pole, Christmas, 1897. :
: Sxow Frost & Co., Bankers, :
: Pay to the Order of Harry Haw- :
; thorne one pair of skates.
Santa Claus.
Also have ready in the bank the
presents which are to be given, each
one properly designated, On the
evening of the festival let the post¬
master call out the names upon the
envelopes one by one, and each child
or person, as his name is called, go to
the office and receive his check. He
may then take it to the bank, and pre¬
senting it to the cashier, receive his
gift.
Gift For an Invalid.
A moat useful gift to an invalid or
one whose meals have to be sent from
the table is a new double plate made
expressly for whichfis this purpose. The un¬
der plate, delp, is provided
with a little funnel on one side, through
which hot water is poured to keep the
contents of the plate above hot. As
the most frequent adjuration to the
nurse bent on tempting the capricious
appetite of an invalid, is to “serve hot
foods hot,” and as the construction of
the plate prevents the food drying or
the water spilling, this new invention
is bound to prove itself a most delight¬
ful addition to the invalid’s tray.
A Good Fair.
The Hon. Abraham Lincoln Brick
has been elected to Congress from In¬
diana. He would make a good pair
with Mr. Mudd, of Maryland.—Rich¬
mond Times.
Jest 'Fore Christmas.
For Christmas, with Its lots and lots of can¬
dies, cakes and toys,
Was made, they say, for proper kids/an’
not for naughty boys;
So wash your face an’ brush your hair, and
mind your p’s and q’s,
And don’t bust out yer pantaloons, and
don’t wear out your shoes;
Say “Yessum” to the ladies, an’ * ‘Yessur”
to the men,
An’ when thev’s company, don’t pass your
plate for pie again;
But thinkin’ of the things yer’d like to see
upon that tree,
Just 'fore Christmas be as good as yer kin
pel
—Eugene Field.
Working on Santa’s Sympathy,
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When Santa Claus sees that layout,
we will surely be touohed.
and
K*i)<j ss
:k Tbs midnight is passed, here;
And the Christmas is
O solemn bells, ring
Through the night hushed
and clear;
As angelic hosts brought the
\ < tidings of old,
Let now the glad news by thy
* W' deep tongues betold
O joy to the word,
* wM. * ■jr. Forget sorrow and fear!
The midnight is passed,
And the Christmas here.
1 JACK’S
CHRISTMAS
£ FAIRIES,
*- * *
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I By Editli Sessions Topper.
T O P to his ears in mis¬
chief all the time
was Jack, yet he
Pm ) was the dearest,
AS roundest, rosiest
l Ul . * little lad imagin-
IP able. He was a
picture of bappy
boyhood that after¬
V noon, three days
before Christmas,
when, in his smart
coat, trimmed in
the most delightful
military fashion with bands of Persian
lamb and black frogs, aud his jaunty
cap set on his fair hair, and his fat
hands protected by fur-trimmed gloves,
he went into the park with his sled for
a romp. He ran and shouted and
pranced until his eyes glowed like
star* and his cheeks shone like apples,
and everybody who saw him said:
“What a handsome boy!”
Jack, of course, was looking forward
to Christmas, just as every boy aud
girl who reads this is looking forward
to that day of all days. He expected
to have all sorts of fine things in his
stocking, and with very good reason,
for Santa Claus had never neglected
him. Jack’s father was rich. Grand¬
mamma, who was richer, was coming
to spend the holidays, and Santa Claus
had been telephoned on the subject
of skates, drums, games, swords, guns
and sweetmeats, and there was every
prospect that when he called at Jack’s
home his sleigh would be very full in¬
deed.
Jack was like all boys who have no
brothers or sisters, a trifle selfish. But
he was a manly, kind-hearted little
chap for all that, and so, when he was
through with his play and was drag¬
ging his sled homeward and came upon
a scene on a street-corner which roused
his sympathy he paused to find out
what it meant.
A crowd of rough boys were tor¬
menting a poorly-clad little giri,
whose wan, haggard face spoke too
plainly of misery and poverty. She
was frightened and almost crying as
Jack came up.
“Here, now!” said Jack, with
sturdy determination, “you stop that
or I’ll call a pTicemau.”
Fortunately at that moment a
blue-coated officer came in sight, and
the hoodlums fled with one wild de¬
parting yell.
“Thank you,” said the little girl,
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SANTA CEADS WAS TELEPHONED.
timidly, “those boys alius are pickin’
on me.”
“What is your name?” said Jack.
“Susie Greene.”
“Well, Susie,” said Jaok, with an
air of business, “you look cold
sick.”
“Ian’t very strong”-
“And hungry,” continued Jack.
Susie burst into tears.
That was enough for Jack.
“Get right on my sled,” said he, de¬
terminedly, “and I’ll take you down
to my house and you’ll have some¬
thing to eat.”
Susie obeyed, and the officer saw
with grim pleasure the young heir to
Mr. Newton’s millions dragging off the
little waif to his home, a block away.
“He do be a foine chap, he do be,”
remarked Policeman Mulvaney.
Jack took Susie into the kitchen
and gave orders she should be fed
forthwith. Then he hurried up to his
mother’s room. She was there with
his grandmother, and in a few words
he told them about t the little girl he
had rescued.
“She’s poor and hungry, and she’s
got no decent clothes. Mamma, can’t
jo t fixed her up?”
His mother looked at him a moment,
then asked, quietly: “Jack, would you
. atlier have this little girl made com-
iorrable or have a big Christmas your-
self?”
Jack hesitated. He thought of all
those presents he was expecting; then
he thought of Susie thin dress and
bursting shoes.
“You can take the money you were
going to spend on my Christmas and
hx her up,” he bravely said. Then
his grandmamma, a stately old lady,
in black satin and white lace cap,
called him to her and kissed him, with
tears in her eyes.
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Jack sat bolt upright in bed and
rubbed his eyes very hard. No, he
was not asleep. There was the open
fire, there his clothes on the chair,
there the door into his mother’s
room.
It was Christmas Eve. Jack had
not hung up his stocking, for he did
not expect any presents. Susie had
been warmly clothed and her
wretched home had been brightened
by the visit of Jack and his mother.
The boy was satisfied. He had made
his choice aud expected to abide
by it.
But, marvellous to relate, as he
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HE STOPPED TO COMFORT HEB.
looked towards the fire, he saw a
crowd of tiny people hurrying
and fussing about on the fur rug be-
fore the fire. Three or four had a
miniature ladder which they were
putting up against the side of the fire-
place. Several others had hold of one
of Jack’s long stockings. When the
ladder was in place, a little man, with
elfish eyes and spider-like legs,
climbed the ladder, dragging Jack’s
stocking after him, and hung it on a
hook and then, coming down, put his
hands on his hips and surveyed his
work with great satisfaction.
“That’s what I call a good job,” he
said. “Now hurry up, you folk, and j
get your presents in there before St.
Nicholas gets along.”
Then fairy after fairy climbed the
ladder and put in his presents. There
was a fat brownie, who brought a
basket of nuts from the woods.
“I have worked all day,” he said,
“looking under hedges and dead
leaves to gather these nuts for the
boy who was kind to Susie.”
A quaint little fairy in a curious
foreign gown and cap approached, “I
have come clear from the borders of
the Black Forest in Germany,” she
said, “to bring this music-box for the
boy who was not ashamed to look
after a poor little girl.”
There was quite a stir as a remark-
able fairy approached. He was cop-
per-tinted and had a feather stuck in
his black hair, and he bore on his
shoulder a beautiful bow and arrow.
“Froin the lands of the setting sun
I have come,” said he. “I am a Puck-
wudje, an Indian fairy, but I wanted
to bring an offering to the young pale¬
face who has a good heart.”
A merry little man in green climbed
the ladder, hauling up a beautiful toy
sword which he had brought from
England for Jack. Then there fol¬
lowed one of the “good people” of
Ireland with a drum which he had
brought from the Emerald Isle.
“Share, it’s hurryin’ I must be after
doin’,” he cried, “to be back before
daybreak.”
In the midst of all this excitement
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JACK RDBBED HIS EYES.
there came a pawing of tiny hoofs
overhead and a jingling of bells, and a
voice down the chimney cried,
“Whoa!” very loudly.
At this every fairy vanished abruptly.
But the stocking was left hanging
j there, and presently, with a scramble
and rush, down the chimney came the
! good Saint himself. Jack knew him
directly from hi3 pictures. He ex-
arnined the stocking attentively,
“So they’ve been here ahead of
me!” he observed. “That’s a great
idea! I never was left before. Well,
no matter! There are a few things
they’ve forgotten. Here are the
skates, the games, the box of cara-
mels, the books,” and as he talked he
piled the packages up on a table near
the fireplace,
Jack’s eyes were so heavy he
couldn’t hold them open. He shut
them for an instant, and when he
opened them again it was Christmas
morning.
He sprang from his bed and rushed
to the fireplace. Yes, there hung hi
stocking full and running over, and
the table near by was loaded with
gifts.
And, if you were to argue forever,
you ‘could never make Jack believe
that there is no Santa Claus or such
things as fairies.
“I know better,” he says, with a
decided shake of his curly head. “I
know better, for I’ve seen them.”
Her Christmas Stockings.
“She was the prettiest and bright¬
est girl we had at our house party
that winter,” related the smiling old
lady who loves to dwell upon the holi¬
day festivities when she was a girl.
“She was a great favorite with the
men bicause of her dashing ways and
the aii of good comradeship that sha
always carried about with her. Yet we
could never see that any one of her
suitors was favored above another,
and often wondered if she would fill
the appointed destiny of woman.
“In the party was Harper Allison.
We always called him Harpy, He
was big, athletic, good-natured and
good to look at, but we never thought
of him as a brilliant man. It was as
plain as could be that he was in love
with her, and men of his type are so
persistent, They lay siege, and, no
matter what may come, they continue
the siege.
“I know that he proposedfto her a
score of times, but he was always put
off with the laughing assurance that
she was not to be won by vy of the
.
stereotyped methods, and toat if he
ever did find a lodging place in her
heart he would see a sign.
“Christmas Eve we all hung up our
stockings outside oar doors, just as a
lark, you know. In the morning we
all had presents to show but Harpy,
He pretended to be disconsolate be¬
yond consolation. He had put out a
great long pair of woolen stockings,
knit in black yarn aud tipped in red
by a fussy old aunt in Maine, who al-
ways feared that Harpy never dressed
warmly enough. He had not only
been slighted by Santa Claus,Jbut the
stockings themselves were gone,
“After dinner there was a sleigh
ride of the old-fashioned kind. As
she raised her dress to clamber into
the big sled, we all saw that over
her dainty shoes she wore heavy
woolen stockings, and the toes were
red. ‘Now I know what I got,’
shouted Harpy, and before us all he
tossed her into the air, caught her as
she came down and kissed her in-
definitely.”
Chri»>mas Fun.
Those motheii fho wish their chil¬
dren’s Christmas fun to be fan pure
and simple, eschewing fashionable
dances aud other unsuitable diver¬
sions, will find the following sugges¬
tions useful:
A tissue-paper candy bag, hung
from the chandelier, to be struck with
a light rod or switch by each child,
blindfolded, in turn, till the lucky one
breaks the bag and the candies may
be scrambled for, is sure to cause
jollity and laughter. This is an old
game, but a never-failing one. Forty
years ago it was described and pict-
ured in juvenile books, yet, once good,
always good, is a true proverb.
Another mirth-provoking device is
a sawdust pie. Cover an ordinary
washtub with bright paper, having a
frill around the edge. Put in a layer
of sawdust, then some trifling gifts,
another layer of sawdust, und so on.
Smooth the top into a shallow cone
shape, to resemble a pie, lay over it a
brown paper cover, with darker spots
here and there, to imitate the scorch¬
ing of the crust, and fasten some lit¬
tle ornament at the apex, which will
lift the cover off as by a handle. Have
a sheet spread underneath, provide
the children with wooden spoons, and
let them dig for “plums.”
Of course the amusements indicated
are for the youngest members of the
flock. Older children may enjoy get¬
ting up a Brownie party, a Japanese
party, etc., in appropriate costumes.
Or they will greatly enter into the
spirit of making a number of poorer
children happy, by packing a large
basket or hamper with attractive little
parcels, which they have prepared
themselves, then passing them to the
shabby little guests. The finest spir¬
its are those who do not lose sight of
the fact that Christmas is a time for
making others happy, not a season for
getting all one can and keeping all
one gets.
Helping Santa.
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There is nothing slow about John-
nie.—From Christmas Lite
S
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On crutc
Lawyer Dobson gra
Never knew me ’tf
Said I’d led th’ Spa:
Wonder what in s
Then th’ folks, whe
Set me In Josh Ho.
Tell When you I what came my a-lim he HP?
On crutche
Banker Green got oi.
Told ’em how I bor fcch
Fust man thro’ th' si
Set me blushin’ w ;
Then he said, “I ha
Saved forSergea
When he gets his 1
Say, I nearly ha
On crut~
Parson, too, on Si bd;
Almos’ shamed
Called me hero o
Asked ’em ull t< 1 teliook!
Chris’mas, how t
But, ye see. I d. I look
When I caught M •
As I stood a-sw
On erut
Somehow we wer stars,
’Cross the field slow.
When Myrtilly t bars —
Lordy, ••Lean'on but me,' ^^^B.ispered Vit fast low.
iny there
Side by side
Life seemed too to last —
’Cross that field x stumped on air,
Not crutches.
—William Russell Rose, in the Criterion.
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
He—“There is always something
nonsensical about a pretty woman.”
She—“Yes; it’s a man.
We suppose whiskers originated
when Daniel bearded the lions in their
den.—Philadelphia Bulletin.
The modern Cinderella.?,
Left at home beside the embers,
Are the husbands of the women
Who of many clubs are members.
—Life.
After a man reaches the age of forty
he quits trying to secure the moon
and gives his entire attention to get¬
ting the earth.
She—“Did you let him kiss you be¬
fore you were engaged?’ She—“Yes.
That’s how we happen to he engaged.
Papa came along.”
Patient—“Doctor, I would like to
have your bill.” Doctor—“You had
better wait until you are a little
stronger. ”—Up-to-Date.
“'What do you consider the hardest
problem of a man’s existence?”
“Getting his own consent to crawl
out of bed in the morning.”
He (exhibiting sketch)—“It’s the
best thing I ever did.” She (sympa¬
thetically)—“Ob, well, you mustn’t
let that discourage you!”—Tit-Bits.
He paid her lovely compliments
That filled her heart with thrills.
He’s sorry for his rashness now,
For now he pays her bills.
—Philadelphia Record.
“So the war is really over?” “Yes;
our landlady has taken down ‘Re¬
member the Maine,’ and put up our
favorite old motto, ‘Pay as you go. >
—Truth.
He—“Here it tells of a doctor who
says impoliteness is a disease.” She
—“So it is. And in the streetcar it
is generally found to be well seated.”
—Philadelphia Bulletin.
He—“Here it tells of a doctor who
says impoliteness is a disease.” She
—“So it is. And in the street car it
is generally found to be well seated.”
—Piiiladeljihia Bulletin.
The Sweet Young Thing—“I won¬
der if you ever felt the pangs of love?”
The Savage Bachelor—“I had a deep
and abiding love for green apples
when I was a small boy.”—Indian¬
apolis Journal.
By the time a man has learned to
speak with discretion and weigh his
words carefully, a younger generation
springs up, thrusts him in a corner,
and will not let him speak at all.—
Atchison Globe.
Mrs. Filanthrop—“If you are a
sufferer from nervous j>rostration, as
you say you are, why don’t you do
something for it?” Tuffold Knutt—“I
do, ma’am; I’m takin’ wot they call
the rest cure.”—Chicago Tribune.
“This scientist says that a future
war may be decided by submarine
fighting.” “That’s good!” exclaimed
Sagasta, with a gleam of hope in his
eye. “We have a lot of ships already
on the ground. ”—Washington Star.
“My father-in-law is a simpleton!
The other day I wrote him that my
pecuniary embarrassments were turn¬
ing my hair gray, aud what do yon
suppose his answer was? He sent me
a bottle of hair dye!”—Fliegende
Blaetter.
Jeweler—“The inscription you
wish engraved on the inside of the
ring I understand is “George to
Irene.” Young Man (with embar¬
rassment)—“Yes, that’s right. But
—er—don’t cut the “Irene” deep.”—
Standard.
A lady who adored a certain preach¬
er took the late Archbishop Magee to
hear him. “Oh, what a saint in the
pulpit!” said the lady, as they were
going home, “And, oh, what a
martyr in the pew!” added the Arch¬
bishop. —Tit-Bits.
To Make the Eyes Bright.
The simple plan of bathing the eyes
with cold water every night at bed¬
time and the first thing on getting up
in the morning will make the eyes both
clear and bright. The application of
cold water causes the blood in the nu¬
merous little blood vessels which sur¬
round the eyes to circulate freely, and
in consequence the eyes will become
stronger and brighter.
Worthy of His Dignity.
“The style of your new office build¬
ing puzzles me a little. I can make
out the rooms for the offices. There
seems to be the entrance. He ,, e is the
inner court. That room over there
looks large enough to be au auditorium.
But what is this elaborately planned
apartment on the second floor?”
“This will be the janitorium.”- —
Chicago Tribune.
A New Home For Emperor’s Sons. •
A small but pretty chateau is being
erected iu the forest of Grunewald,
near Berlin, Germany, for use as a
residence for the Emperor’3 youngest
sons. The marble palace at Fotsdam,
on the shores of the River Havel, has
been found to be damp and un¬
healthy, which caused an outbreak of
typhoid fever there recently.