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E. I. SMITH & CO.
THE ONE PRICE
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Cor Clayton St, k College, Avc
N t his
1 c o m •
i e r c i a 1 age
there cau be tio
go*tl reason
- v why Tilbury
shouhl
/ 'have been
placed so near the summit of the hill, but so
It is, anil all but a few of the farmers, around
•bout have to toil upwards in order to reach
the half downs stores there and tho three
ohurchcw. Perhaps the original settlers of
western Massachusetts had an eye, or two,
for the beautiful, for there is not a habita
tion in Berkshire county that commands a
more extensive or picturesque viow. Tho
natives of Tilbury seldom mention the see i-
•rr, hut not many years ago it attracted tho
admiration of wealthy people from a dis
tance, and they set np their summer homes
there. It made a marked change In the vil
lage, the more because n portion of tho new
comers fcniud it pleiisuroabt^. -to remain
through the winter. It was thus that ov’l
entered and brought unhappiness to Hczo-
kiali Martin.
Mv mind wanders back to that time when
•s a child I listened to his stentorian tenor
voice leading the singing from tho choir loft
of tho ancient Congregationniist church.
There were two long services every Sunday
then, and 1 recall that when the new preacher
Joined in the movement to abolish tho nfter- !
noon sermon Hezekiah was one of those who
stood hardest for tho old custom, uud when ;
the inevitable reform was finally acconi- •
plished. tho sturdy chorister r over looked |
upon his minister in tho same light that ho |
had before. He was more, faithful than ever ]
aud sung all the louder as if to make np in
fervor for lack of opportunity; but when tho
daring divine finally went his way, and an
other preacher took tho pulpit, tho chorister
felt as if a groat burden had been lifted; as
If the parish hail escaped a most dangerous
affliction. . rT „„
The years turned steadily along ana Ileze-
kiah overcame every difficulty that choir
leaders are subject to. Ho pacifi. d tho jealous
sopranos, raised up new bns-os, sung four
eousecutivo Sundays aif niono when the
choir deserted fcnn in high dudgeon because
he refused to approve of u now anthem book,
nml in many other ways demonstrat 'd his
fitness for the work until prosperity in the
shape of summer visitors fell upon Tilbury.
Then began a quiet, insidious trouble, as im
perceptible at first as tho approach of old
age, that eventually overcame him.
The first manifestation of revolution came
In a division of opinion in the parish over
the elioiee of a new preacher, for osd Sir.
Spooner had l>egun to feel that he was some
how in the way, and he resigned before tho
tieople were fudy aware that they wanted to
hear a new voice. There were two loading
candidates for Iris place, a young and elo
quent preacher anil a reulous worker, and ail
elderly man ij;;aiiist whom not n word oouli.
be said. Tie newcomers in Tilbury, joining
hands with the younger members of the
church, elected tho young man, and as -ho
contest hud not been long or determined,
there was a spoeilv healing of differences and
no lack of harmony. Even then Hezekiah
felt a vague presentiment that all would no.
be well with him, hut several months passed
before ho received any direct intimation tnat
tho parish would appreciate a change in tho
choir loft. The first ho heard of it was in a
discussion among bis singers at a batiin.ay
evening rehearsal. It was not meant that
be should bear, but ho entered tho vestry un
expectedly. Siam Hinckley, one of tho*o
very bassos who had been patienJy trained
by tho chorister, was saying;
“Wall, l shall bo sorry to see tho old man s
feeling* liurt, but ho can t expect to lead
sir.gin’ forever."
responded
And pretty Maria Jasper, tacitly untler-
rtood to bo Sam’s sweetheart,
“‘^IBut 'l think it’s just too mean and if
’Kiah has to go 1 follow. That’s all!
And then they nil saw the clionstercomin„
down ttm aisle, and a painful hush fell upon
them, llezebiati bowed gravely as ho np-
That was tho
wav ho alwavs addressed tho choir at re
hearsals. Perhaps ho avoided a greeting to
«ocb individual from fear of arousing jeal
ousy by scorning partiality. At all events I
never heard of bis varying tho formula. Ho
continued, ns ho referred to a small slip of
paper In his hand: ,
■‘When tho l>,rd wills wo will all go, and
not till then, it is not our part to meddlo
with what is In His hands. Tho minister has
chosen Ityniu 1KJ7 for tho first piece. We will
sing it to the tuno of ‘Cambridge.’ ”
At that rehearsal and during services next
day everything wont as usual, but report of
the talk that Hezekiah hail heard flew about
the jmrisb quickly, and not a few remarked
that the chorister looked unusually grave.
“1 cal’late,” remarked Mr. Davis, tlio sheep
raiser Irorn llam’s Hill, to his wife as they
drove home alter meeting; “I cal’lato 'Kiah
Martin feels hi* years a growing ca him; hay!”
“And 1 cal’late, Philander Davis," returned
Mm. Davis, with significant emphasis, “that
It ain't so much his nateral years he feels as
•tt-ySStSt-rt K* «o Wends.
’Kiah hain’t; I think jes’ ’« much of himri
ever I dill, mi’ yit I’m ’hleeged to admit that
when a man gits along in years it’s time for
him to let stouter men hold tho plough.
Hnvt”
Now, the fact was that Philander Davis
was one of the few among the older heads in
i the parish who sided with the reformidg ele
ment. Mr. Davis was ambitious for Tilbury
nnd all in it, and ho prided himself somewhat
on being able to entertain new ideas after
having passed tho age of 50. At the last
church meeting his support had been recog
nized by his election to membership of tho
parish committee, and he, therefore, was well
informed on the restlessness of tho younger
members regarding tho matter of music. It
was the one point of serious difference be
tween him nnd his wife, 1 *aml she was not to
he hoodwinked liji hie softliigiry..
“Don’t tell me, fhilander,"'she’replied ill
answer to his last expression, “I know just
how you feel. Yon want to please the smart
folks'on tlio hill, and 1 haven’t got a word to
say against them, cept it does seem’s if they
needn’t conto to Tilbury nnd expect to run
things in city style. They want a quartet,
now, don’t they? and they want to interduce
now music, don’t they! and not let the congre
gation join in, kept on one hymn, don’t they?
nnd they’re goin’ to try to make Hezekiah
step down on account of his age, and he been
chorister for fifty years, don't they? aint
they, 1 should say!”
“Git up, there, Jim, g’long with ye!" ex
claimed Mr. Davis. “You’re putty sharp,
Martby; cf you was to look through the hole
in one of my millsfhnc* and see the other s
grlndin’ you’d think you saw clenn through
both, wouldn't ye? hay? but I don’t think
v ,„\i make much of a hand to run a church, ,
V.-irthy. Hay?”
And so, with good-natured obstinacy the
discussion was continued until Mr. Davis
helped his wife out and led the horse into the
barn to unhitch.
) Now that the chorister knew that there
' was a feeling that his services were not re-
; qnireil, tho parish committee hoped that he
would relieve them of discomfort by resign-
| ing voluntarily; but weeks passed and Heze-
! kiah retained his place without a word. Ho
at last it was determined that he must l>e
approached in a Christian, neighborly spirit,
nud induced to consider the matter in the
right light. A* the olde** member of the
committee, Philander Davis was deputed to
do the talking, but though he had accepted
the appointment with a cheerful sense of i«
importance, Ins confidence failed him when
ho faced the old chorister one October even-
inv in Hezekiah'* little parlor. The other
members of tho committee sat looking nt
their hats whilo Mr. Davi* coughed awk
wardly and began:
“peelin' tolerable well these days,’Kiah?
•Tve been enjoyin’ good health all sum
mer, Mr. Davis,” responded Hezekiah with
dignified asperity.
“Wall,” said Mr. Davis, after a wretched
pauso and another cough, “we’ve come np to
talk about the music.”
Mr. Davis waited for the chorister to lead
the wav to what must follow, hut Hezekiah
kent silent. Ho the spokesman continued:
“You tee, ’Kiah, the parish thinks they’d
ought to be something of a change.”
Hezekiah could hold out no longer.
“Neighbors,” ho said with a trembliaf
voice, “1 can’t make no change. I’ve stood
up in the loft there more’n fifty yrars and
haven’t missed but two Holidays. . v« sung
the good old music that you and I, Puilancer,
was brought up on, and 1 can’t sing u-’ich
else. I’vo kept tho choir together for you,
and if tlio money stood in the way (Hezekiah
leceive 1 §50 u year) I’d keep it up for noth
in'”. No, don’t say ’taint money; I know
tfcat; 1 know vou want a high toned quartet
and that you’re willing to pay. But-Ivo
done my best, neighbors. ’
Tlio old chorister bowed his head upon his
bands, nnd the parish committeemeni wished
they bad not come. Mr. Davis rubbed the
back of his head and his colleagues looked
sternly at him.
“Wo hate worse’n thunder to hurt your
feelin’s, ’Kiah, hay?” ho began again, when
tho chorister stood np nud interrupted him.
“1 know,” ho said; “yon don’t want to tell
me I’m too old. But, praise tho Lord. 1 il
not stand in tho way of tho parish s goou. I
resign right here.”
But tho committee wns not wholly locking
in human sympathy, and it was agreed that
Hezekiah should sing until the end cf the
year, and tlio chorister consented, though
with less appreciation of the favor extended
to him than mod of tho committee had ex
^°“Blessod if 1 didn’t feel sorry for the old
man,” said young Deacon Goodspeed, speak-
inn- of tho matter several days later, bo uid
a good many others, but as tho end of tho
year approached tho sympathy lost its keen
ness, nnd in tho samo degree tho ambition of
tho younger members increased, so that
eventually the desire to have a big display of
music on Christmas led to another call on
Hezekiah, tho result of which was that tlio
■ . - i j...i i,; a rif. once with-
church, the sexton had blown out the lights
and locked the heavy doors behind him.
bleigh bells jingled faintly away out of hear
ing, and the slow footsteps of tho sexton
crunching on the half trodden snow mingled
with tbe tones of the clock ir> the high tower
striking ten. Then a door inside the vestry
opened, and out of a closet where brooms
and dust pans were kept an old man came
hesitatiugiy. He made his way very slowly
up the bread staii-s to the main meeting
room. At the door leading to the choir loft
he paused a moment. His hand was on the
knob, but he turned it not. More slowly than
before ho went down the aisle and dropped
into a pew. He sat there in the darkness a
long time, his bead sunk forward on his
breast. A half hour, may be, passed, before ho
rose and marched with determined step to the
choir door, and up the stairs to the
familiar loft. He found a match in Ills
pocket and lit tho lamp that hung
near the bench, where Hezekiah for more
than fifty years had sung God’s praises nnd
carried the voices and spirits of the congrega
tion with him. The dim yellow ray threw
gloomy shadows of the pew backs into relief,
just disclosed the pulpit at the further enil of
the church, gave faint hints of evergreen fes
toons on the walls, and hero and there the
laurel worked words “Emanuel,” “Glory to
God in the highest," and so on, that hail been
placed there with great toil by tbe young
men and women of the parish in honor of tbe
day so near at hand; but had you been there
you would have seen only the patriarchal
form of the chorister with a sadly bitter look
on his taco gazing at the gloom about the I
pulpit. Was he thinking bow often he had
stood solepinlx thus while thp minister wus
praying? remaps so, tor alter a niomen*
his lipe parted, and a tremulous “Amen!”
uttered softly on a high note, sung to the
evergreens and the shadows.
Then Hezekiah looked about the bench In
front of him. He picked up one of the uew
anthem books brought in by the quartet. He
glanced at the cover and let it falL Taking
tho lamp from its socket he held it so that he
could see, and presently drew forth the an
cient collection of anthems, every tune in
which ho knew by heart, to sacred to him.
nnd yet so speedily hidden away where it
should serve nobody. Ke replaced the lamp
mul turned the pages to “Coronation,” the
first piece snng by a choir under his direc
tion more than a lifetime ago. Fondly he
looked at the familiar notes and then, bis
chest thrown out and his head held up, he
sung the grand old tune and its magnificent
words with all the fervor and all the power
tlint bis voice ever had commanded. From
beginning to end the hymn rang through the
deserted gloomy church, and Dr. Williams,
driving by in baste to attend the ills of a far
off patient, wondered that the rehearsal
should hare been continued so late. When
the last note had ceased Hezekiah stood with
tho book still open and his head still up, but
tho tears were coursing down his face in
steady sli earns.
At last he sunk into a chair, nnd with a
great pang nt the heart ha saw upon the
bench beside tlio volume of newfangled tunes
a little book of manuscript music. When ho
was n young man of not more than 50 Hezo-
kiali had taken it into hie head that he would
write music, ami tho several nntcenis that ho
had composed in pure harmony, but with
crude progressions, had been laboriously
copied into books, nnd had been used oc
casionally er since in church service.
What had they been doing with his music?
Was it not onough that they should discard
him in bis old age, anil his ways nnd his
books, without hunting up his feeble bat
earnest compositions to laugh at them ? That
could not bo forgivon! With melancholy
fingers lie turned the leaves. His inspection
stopped nt an anthem for Christmas, com
posed on words taken literally from the
Scriptures. There it was, with its introduc
tory recitative for bass, and a double fugue,
as he called it, when the angels’ cliori;3 was
reached. His wife bail sung tho treble lie-
fora sb« left the choir, and when with patient
resignation lie had laid her in the grave, his
daughter had performed her part, and since
she married and moved away tho anthem
had not been sung. With what grand •mo
tion he had heard tho voice* begin the first
fugol movement:
Glo - rr to God In the high - - -
. '...II >
prise in your houor. They’re goit’ to sing
your piece.”
The old chorister broke away from tho
sexton and hobbled np the stairs. When he
reached the organ loft they were singing
“Anil on earth peace, good will to rnenj,’
Hezekiah waited until they were done, and
then in a low, grave tone that startled tho
singers, he said:
“1 wish you all p. merry Christmas, ^neigh
bors. I’ve had hard feelings against you,
and I pray that God''will forgive me and
cause you not to look unkindly on an old
main This is niorb than 1 deserve.”
F. K. BCKTOS.
THE FIR TREE.
Far down in the forest, where the warm
sun and the fresh air made a sweet resting
place, grew a pretty little fir tree: and yet it
was uot happy, it wished so much to be tall
like its companions, the pines and firs which
grew around it. The sun shone and the soft
air fluttered its leaves, and the little peasant
children passed by prattling merrily, but the
fir tree heeded them not. As it grew it
complained, “Oh! bow 1 wish I were as tall
as the other trees,
then 1 would spread
out my branches on
nnd my
overlook
rr.er Its dark green foliage might be seen In
the forest, while passers by would say, “What
a beautiful tree!”
A short time before Christmas the discon
tented fir tree was the first to fall. . As the
ax cut through the stem and divided the
pith the tree fell with a groan to tho earth,
conscious of pain and faintness, and forget
ting all its anticipations of happiness, in sor
row at leaving its home in the forest. It
k lew that it should never again see its dear
old companions, tho trees, nor the little
bushes and many colored flowers that had
grown by its side; perhaps not even tho
birds. Neither was the journey nt all pleas
ant. Tiie tree first recovered itself while
being unpacked in the courtyard of a house,
•with several other treas; and it heard a man
say, “We only want one, uud this is the pret
tiest.”
Then came two servants in grand livery and
carried tho fir tree into a largo and beautiful
apartment. On tho walls hung pictures, and
near the great stove stood great clima vases,
with lions on tho lids. There were rocking
chairs, silken sofas, large tables, covered with
pictures, books and playthings, worth a great
deal of money—at least the children said so.
Then tbo fir tree was placed in a large tub,
full of sand; but greeu baize huug all round
it, so that no one could see it was a tub, nud
it stood on a very handsome carjiet. How
the fir tree trembled! “What was going to
happen to him uoiv?” Some young ladies
came, and the servanta helped them to adorn
the tree. On one branch they hung little
bags cut out?of colored (viper, and each bag
was till* d with sweetmeats; from other
branches hung gilded apples and walnuts, as
if they had grown there; and above, and all
rouud, wore hundreds of red, blue und white
tapers, which wore fastened on the branches.
Dolls, exactly like real liable*, were placed
under the green leaves—the tree had never
seen such things before—and at the very top
was fastened a glittering rfter, mads of tinsel.
Oh, it was very beautiful!
At last the tapers were lighted, and then
a srligtenUur of liuht. the treft.lW*»
seated! Ana now trie roTlung door* were
thrown open, and a troop of children rushed
in as if they intended to unset the tree; they
were followed more slowly by their elder*.
For a moment tbe little ones stoedsilent with
astonishment, and then they shouted for joy,
till the room rang, and they danced merrily
round the tree, while one present after an
other was taken from it.
“What are they do-
ing? What will bap
j>eu next?” thought the
fir. At last the caudles
burnt down to the
branches and were put
out. Then the ehildreu
Chines nnd the birds sing.” And then the
tree told the little mice all about its youth.
They had never heard sueli an account in
their lives; and after they had listened to it
attentively, they said: “What a number of
things you have seen I you must have been
very happy.”
One morning people camo to clear out the
garret, the boxes were (lacked away, and
tbe tree was palled out of the corner, and
.• thrown roughly
on the garret
floor; thou the
servant dragged
it out upon the
staircase where
tho daylight
shone. “N o w
life is beginning
again,” said the
tree, rejoicing
in the sunshine
and fresh air.
Then it was
carried .down
stairs and taken
into the court
yard so quickly
ffi
Coil In the
blipi - eit I Glo - ry
Glo - ry toGod** In the fclsU - est ’.
j J ? - -g'A
And tow sweetly the second movement
followed! and how they worked in together!
C!o-r/ !) Ood !» Wgkol.tad
wUi • r. to
Ab4 *i •uth pear*, K- will
Glo- rz to Cc4 in to*blgfceat,
And now it was all hold up for the smiles of
a modern quartet!
The aid chorister’s head sank upon tho
bench, and his tears blurred the notes on the
ancient page.
birds building tlieir
nests o n my
boughs, nnd when
tho wind blew I
should bow with
stately dignity like
my tall compan
ions.” Two Win
ders passed. In the
now i lvisn i were autumn, as usual,
AS TA'.L AS OTI1EU tllO Woodcllt-
trees!” ters came and cut
down several of tho tallest trees, and the
young fir tree, which was now grown to its
full height, shuddered ns tlio noble trees fell
to the earth with a crash. After the branches
were lopped off, the trunks looked so slender
and bare that they could scarcely bo recog
nized. Then they were placed upon wagons
and drawn by horses out of tho forest.
“Where were they going? What would lie
come of them?” Tho voting fir treo wished
very much to know. Ho in t’no spring, when
tlio swallows and the storks came, it asked,
“Do you know where those trees were taken?
Did. you meet them?’
Tho swallovys knew nothing; but the stork,
after o little reflection, nodded his head and
said, “Yes, 1 think I tlo. I met several new
ships when I Dow from Egypt, and they hail
fine masts that smelt like fir. I think thoso
must have been the trees; I assure you they
were stately, very stately.”
“Oh, how I wish 1 u ore tall enough to go
on tho sea,” said tho fir treo. “What is this
sea and what does it look like?”
It would take too much time to explain,”
said the stork, flying quickly away.
“Rejoice in toy youth,” said the sunbeam;
rejoice in thy fresh growth and the young
life that is in thee.”
And the wind kissed tho tree and tho dew
watered it with tears, but tho fir tree regarded
them not.
Christmas timfe drew near nnd many young
trees were cut down, some even smaller and
younger than tho fir tree, who enjoyed
neither rest nor peace with longing to leave
its forest homo. These young trees, which
were chosen for their beauty, kept their
branches and were also laid on wagons and
drawn by horses out of the forest.
“Where are they going?” asked the fir tree.
“They are not toiler than I am; mile d one is
much less; and why ure tho branches not out
off? Where are they going?”
“We know, wo know,” sang tho spar
rows. “We have looked In at the
windows of the houses in the town, and we
know what is done
with them. They are
dressed up in the most
splendid manner. We
have seen them stand
ing ill tho middle of
TOT.tl THK MICE ALL A'.IO'JT ITS TOCTH.
that it forgot to think of itseif, and could
only look about, there was so much to lie
seen. The court was close to a garden,
where everything looked blooming. Fresh
and fragrant roses hung over the littlo |<al-
iags. The linden trees were in blossom;
while the swallows Dew here and there, cry
ing; “Twit, twit, twit, my mate is coming,”
but it was uot the fir treo they meant. “Now
1 shall liTe,” cried the tree, joyfully, spread
ing out its branches; but, alas! they were all
withered and yellow, and it lay in a corner
amongst weeds and nolties. The star of gold
paper still stuck ill tlio top of tho tree, and
glittered in tho sunshine, lu the same court-
yard two of the merry children were playing
who had danced round the treo at Christmas,
and had been so happy”. Tho youngest saw
the gilded star, and ran and pulled it off tho
tree. “Look what is sticking to the ugly old
fir tree,” said the child treading on th»
branches till they crackled under his boots.
And the tree saw ail tho fresh, bright
doners in tho garden, and then
looked at itself and wished it had
remained in the dark corner of tho garret.
Then a lad came and chopped tho tree into
small pieces, till a large bundlo lay in a heap
on the ground. The pieces were placed in a
fire uim op tlio ooDDcr. and they quickly
blazed up ovigntiy, win to mo treo siguea s«
deeply that each sigh was hko a ’ittlo pistol
shot. Then the children, who were at play,
came and rested themselves in front of the
fire, and looked at it, nnd cried, “Pop, pop.”
But at each “pop," which was a deep sigh,
the tree was tliiuking of a summer day in tho
forest or of some winter night there, when
the etnrs shono brightly, and of Christmas
evening. Now all was past; tho tree’s life
was past, and the story also—for ail stories
must come io an end at hist.—Adapted from
Hans Christiau Anderson.
WHAT WILT, nAITETT
NEXT?
Xib At ai A li f “ .. t
old chorister yielded his place at once with
out a word of protest.
The celebration of the kindly festival be
gan with a musical service on Christmas era
Tho new quartet was in place aud Hezekiah
sat with the audience. Iu deference to old
time custom some of tho hymns were sang by
tho entire congregation. The old chonster
tried to sing with the others, bnt after a few
bars the tears somehow got entangled in bis
voice, nnd, ns he could not sing nnd weep
too, ho stopped singing. When it “
over several of his neighbors approached him
to say that they didn’t think there d tws
any Improvement, and Hezekiah shook each
one by the hand and answered notbinfr
_ Tbe last gossiping couple b** M*
‘Gracious mnssv! Hezekiah, wr.ko up!
wakoup’Kiab; you’ll ketch your death of
cold? Come!"
It was Peter Stone, tho sexton, dum-
founded by surprise, shaking the old chor
ister violently by the shoulder. Painfully
Hezekiah raised his head.
“Merry Christmas, Peter; I il ra.her stay
here,” ho said feebly when ho sai% where he
was.
Peter laughed almost hysterically and
tugged away persistently at the old man s
shoulders. _ „, , . ,
“Como down to the fire,” he exclaimed;
“the choir will be here right away to re-
hearso for the service.”
••y es> I’d go,” answered Hezekiah, nna
with great difiiculty he dragged his stiffened
limbs down tho stairs into the vestry, where
tho furr.aco was already roaring witn n
freshly made fire. He submitted to bo
rubbed and slapped by Peter to inc-nco a
quickor circulation of his blood, but he gai e
no clear answer to tho wondering inquiries
as to how ho camo to be locked into the
church over night. .
Presmtlv the organ upstaire began to
sound. Hezekiah shivered’ and Peter ruobed
him ti e harder. Then the voice of tho bass
iu the new quartet was heard reciting:
“And there were shepherds ubid.ng m tho
fi< The old chorister listened with staring
eyes. Could it be! The long recitative came
to an end, and then all tho voices took up in
nroper order tho wigcis* chorus. ,
I “What does that mean, Peter?” exclaimed
I Hezekiah, starting up.
a warm room, and
.adorned with ai 1 sorts
of beautiful things—
honey cakes, gilded
apples, plnyth i n g s
and many hundreds
of wax tapers.”
rr was the nnsT to “And then,” asked
fall. the fir tree, trembling
through ail its branches, “aud then what
happens?”
“Wo did not sec any mere,” said the spar'
rows; “but this was enough for us.”
“I wonder whether anything so brilliant
will ever happen to me," thought tho fir
tree.
Itojoieo with us,” said tho air and the sun
light! “Enjoy thino own bright life in fresh
air.” '
But tho tree would not rejoice, though It
“Why,’twos runout as o Christmas sui>’ grew tailor every day, and winter andram-
receive:
permission
to plunder
the tree.
Oh, how they
rushed upon it, till
the brauclies crack
ed, and bad iu not
been fastened with
tho glistening star to the ceiling, it must have
been thrown down. The children then danced
about, with their pretty toy*, aud no oue
noticed tho tree, except tho children’s maid,
who camo and peeped among the branches to
see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten.
“A story, a story,” cried the children, pull
ing a little Cat man toward the tree.
“Now we shall be in the green shade,” said
tho mun, as lie seated himself under it,' ’and
the tree will have the pleasure of hearing
uieo, but I shall only relate one story; what
shall it l>«? Ivede-Avede, or Ilitmprv
Dumpty, who fell down stairs, but soon got
up again, and at last married a princess.”
Ivede-Avede,” cried some. “Huiapty
Dumpty,” cried others, and there w»s a fine
shouting and crying out. But tho fir tree re
maiued quite still, and thought to bin.tell.
Shall I have anything to do with all this?”
but he hail already amused them a* much as
they wished. Then the old man told them
the story of Huinpty Dumpty, how he fell
down stairs, and was raised up again, and
married a princess. And the children dap
ped their hands aud tried, “Tell another, tell
another,” for they wanted to hear the story of
Ivede-Avede;” but they only had “Huinpty
Dumpty.” After this the fir tree became
quite silent and thoughtful: never had the
birds lu the forest told such tales as “Humpty
Dumpty,” who fell down stairs, end yet mar
ried a princess.
Ah! yes, so it happens in tho world,”
thought the fir tree; he believed it all, be
cause it was related by a such a uice man.
Ah! well,” he thought, “who knows? per
haps I may fall down too, and marry a
princess;” and he looked forward joyfully to
tho next evening, expecting to bo again
decked out with lights and playthings, gold
and fruit. “To-morrow 1 will not tremble,”
thought he; “I will enjoy all my splendor,
and I shall hear the story of Humpty Dumpty
ugain, and perhaps Ivede-Avede.” And the
treo remained quiet and thoughtful ail night.
In tlio morning tho servants and tlio house
maid came in. “Now,” thought the fir, “all
my splendor Is going to begin again.” But
they dragged him out of the room and up-
«tairs to the garret, and throw him oh the
floor, in a dark corner, where no daylight
shone, and there they left him. “What does,
this mean?” thought the tree. “What am I
to do here? I can hear nothing iu a place
like this,” and he leant against the wall, and
thought and thought. Aud ho had time
enough to think, for days and nights passed
and no one camo near him, and when at last
somebody did come, it was only to put qway
large boxes in a comer. Bo tho treo was
completely hidden from sight ns if it had
never existed. “It is winter, now,” thought
tho treo, “tho ground is hard nud covered
with snow, so that people cannot plant me.
1 shall be sheltered here, I daresay, until
spring comes.”
“Squeak, squeak,” said a littlo mouse,
creeping cautiously towards tho treo; then
came another, and they both sniffed at the
fir tree and crept between tho branches.
“Oh, it is very cold,” said the littlo mouse,
“or else wo should bo so comfortable here,
shouldn’t wo, you old fir tree!”
“1 am not old,” said the fir tree, “there aro
many who aro older than 1 am.”
“Where do you come from, nnd what do
you know?” asked the mice, who were full of
curiosity. “Have you seen the most beauti
ful places in the world, and can you tell us all
about them? aud have you been in tho store
room, where cheeses lie on tho shelf, and
bams lmng from the coiling? Ono can run
•bout on tallow candbs, there, and go in thin
and come out fat.”
“I know nothing of that place,” said tbe
Or treo, “hut l know the wood where the su»
CHaiSTMAS SERVICES.
Tho village church on Christmas Pay.
Holils kindly hearts anil pleasant faces
And some are seen to sing and pray
Who seldom go to such like places.
But If for only onco a year
Their heart* aro touched. It makes them better;
Aid he who feels his conscience clear
Must own himself tho season's debtor.
Enter here both rich and poor,
Come la simple hope and faith;
X«uve liehiud you ut the door
Love of life and dread of death.
FOR SALE!
r Room house and two acre lot, crib and cow
%) house; also fine fruit trees, m Winterville.
Ga , and hi 200 yards of the depot 011 Railroad
Street. This piece of property Is in good repair
and rent* for§125.00 Trice §1.300.011c half cash
b-oauce in 12 months at 8 percent Interest
3 Room house iu East Athens, in good repair
and well moated an In bought lor 8300
i tore house on extension of H oad Street in
I E st 1 tlu-ns < an be bought cheap
fiiri Acre farm in 3 miles of Athens, 40 lu a high
DU state of cultivation, 211 acres In pasture aud
original f rest; 2 branches running through thn
place. This place. Is well improved with an 8
room dwelling, ham, statiles, carriage house,
poultry house und ■ otton house; within one half
mile of a school and church and In 300 yards of
the : &M Railroad, l’rlce $1200, one half
cash balance in 12 months at 8 p^r cent interest.
T ri Acres of land 8 In a high state of cultiva-
1U tion, 2 in woods, some fine fruit trees and a
3 room dwelling 011 the place and within Smiles
of Athens for §300.
•)(\n Acres of splendid land, within 2 miles of
L\J 1 the post office of Athens, on the read
leading out to Wi.t-insvllle. It has a 0-room
dwelling, stables and other houses used on a
farm. It has also 2 tenant houses 150 acres of the
land tn a high state of cultivation the balance
in old field pines anil original forests. This place
has also a fine orchard on it.
3 Room house and half acre lot on Oconee
1 '
TOT mi SfcATB.
Oomo on this tho day of days.
Humbly pray on bended knee;
Sing tho fervid song of praise.
All the seats in heav’n ore treo.
street for $050.
TO RENT.
The office where Dr. Steber occupied on Jack-
sou street, a splendid stand for a dentist or a
phyidcUn.
5-Koom house on Doughertv street, convenient
business, for *15 per month,
4-R iom house on Handcock ave., convenient
to bnsiness, for til).
^ Room house on Jackson Street.
Mr. Gantt’s splendid Fairvlew farm, In 15 min
utes walk of the IVstoflie of Athens. It has a
new 1 ‘-room house, 3 wells of good water, fine
barn, lte varieties of grape vines, they bear
well; also a fine orchard. There Is also a nice
pasture, aud about 50 acres of laud In a high
state of cultivation This place can he rented
very reasonable by calling on
J. T. ANDERSON, IL E. A.
Richmond: and: Danville: Railroad
Northeastern Division,
CONDENSED SCHEDULE
IN EFFECT JUNE 24TH.1888.
Trains run by 75th Meridian time.
BETWEEN ATHENS AND ATLANTA-
NO. oH ' '
Christmas in * Restaurant.
daily
Leave Athens 7:40 a. m,
Ar’ve At'xnta 12 noon
5'. Ex da
6:(0 p. m
0:40 p.m
N<». 41 iiX. sUaIMY.I
Leave Atlanta 5 30 p. in.
Ar’ve Athens 10:25 p, m
53 Daily.
3:10 e. m
12:20 noo
6etwee7Tathens AND THE EAsfT
No. 53—Daily 1
Leae Athens 7:40s.m.
Ax. Wash’zton 7.0 > a. m.l ....
at, New York 1 20 p m 1
No 57 Ex. tunday
6:00 p. in.
7:45 p m.
620am.
Pullman l’alace Buffet sleeping cars from
Lula to i\ ashlngton anil New York’
delid trains Lula to Washington.
between m ath ens~andTula. 11 '
Southbound. Northbound.
STATIONS.
AMIPMIaMiLV
7 01 8 35 IO30I Lula
8 30 8 65:1050 Gillsvllle
AR.
noMMayiv'lle
1125 Harmony Grove
11451 Nicholson
1200 Center
1220 Athens
PM| AR LV
51
a r
53
? H
I9
3 p
PM
AM
PM,
750
V 30
9 30
730
9 10
8 55
715
853
8 25
055
8 35
7 55
S 33i« 13
7 25
6 20 8 00
TOO
6 00 7 40
6 30 ’
PM \M
PM
Mr. W ay back (spending his ■Christmas In
town)—Waiter, for gracious sake bring me
something to break up this turkey with.
Waiter—Wet’ll y«r have, dynamite or
anaxl
and 22 will’ run dally excepV'siu.'dey.
Trains run by 75th Meridian U me—One hoar
UU wSag&g m 'fflB83lM.
‘It awnSSiuSf'