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r •» V V* 135 m AStlOTWS '&7 i \ 1 m * i i \ \ /o \ VO J\ M iV • / J > • $ /if tl $ f J^k. V V u ii 4 if Mi : sr 4 •X 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 fij 'A V i . V ^ v\' \ 1 m/i Km 'fP'' \\ w ' \ i Vf . v s “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 Under the; Mistletoe, V mi Vs*?*; m r j \ [ Ha.d from I the nerve, red what lips perfect M 15 $\ 1 those to take a 1 f 1 I v Had I the hen/e^^ * i r [I Y v Z St mu ~ ••v . [ I % Ki IV f l >1 . *«r. ?_• • Y V, LV 1/4 » r i Y V L > - S=T T~ Y ■ v Si — _ •_ 1 . / A y l i 1 .....^ >1 1 TheJStopidthmj As sits S‘lcnt tK?re, ^ T r l jf bound tightly to hischajr^ ' ^Tht Stopid 1 .1 l X ’■y&zi 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- i SjFi !4 > i \ iffjj ; 1 I i I i & v l > <* A > v m - f.\ ii I h*VM» a nim * Will V A w |§ 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 «P. stead V of -- - Cm P hom^d 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, / ASh m/m m >m l sSF Kted A *20 1 mMjb w ml of toys? \ IsTi7 XfO Qir S 7* in Xj 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, *- * * : -s 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, V *7± £ v • > V : sf A "v / v 1 * S’ % <{ f ■m w it Mil HI l\~ !i / Ymm IS mil. , lx Ii U \\ 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. mm. % '4 & Zr, Wmik - Wfi r m k , i m V -XY, - 1 iV; '"dM 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 'JZ ■Am- tsz I' <i [ijBs&r*- ii % t W v< - B» ”«H 0) % # 1 m -id r= xr==-'. \\ / - w \ 7 \\ Wh a* S V r.*; (- 5*1 If tfl / UJ1Q ; /// 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 mil) x— ! I xs ^ i0_2 = _O- \V mum u i s., ^ a 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. 'J 12 ft. .7^70 : i !N m I ,> Hep.e 4 M m j Heo.e ] A feiJ m smsi 7 / t~ / ;d_ There is nothing slow about John- nie.—From Christmas Lite S .. , jhev b... 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.