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FAYETTEVILLE NEWS. VOL. I. FAYETTEVILLE, GA., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1883. NO. 21. CHRISTMAS BELLS. I heard the bells on Christmas day ■uir old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet jij^B The words repeat ^■foce on earth, good-will to men I Rid thought how, as the day hod come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to menl Till ringing, singing on its way, Tho world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, A chant sublime, Of ncaco on earth, good-will to menl But in despair I bowed my head— “Thero is no peace on earth.” I said; “For hate is strong, . And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to menl” Then pealed the bells moro loud and deep, “God is not dead, nor doth He sleapl The wrong shall fail, Tho right prevail. it ith pence on earth, good-will to menl” —Henry W. Longfellow. CHRISTMAS EVE, rNOW had been fall ing early in the day, i but so lightly that only a white fleck here and there marked tho distanfchousetops and ! a thiu irosty layer made tho stringpiece show in the dark, like a glittering line. Down by tho water’s edge the night was silent and gloomy. ( nly the hoarse gur gling of the stream filtering through tho slimy piles un-. derneaih tho pier, only tho distant ■wash of a paddle broke upon tho monotonous creaking of chums and cables, the same big, stiff ones that Old Tom Saunders had seen make fust the tiewly arrived bark at n’ghtfall.-He had been striding up and down the bare dealt of the du-ky canal boat to keep «nim%e)f warm ever since the stranger had loomed up on the other side of tho jjier. He had hcaid screaming in the ■lip beyond the whistle of the tug boat that had brough her in, and seen the busthng little craft 6team away with the sparks and smoke from her tunnel leaving a luminous trail in the dark. From that the gloom had been thicker ■bout the pier and tho damp mist roll ing up from tho bay had wrapped the shipping in a shroud of moisture. There had been a clatter of voices fur a while .on the big bark, and he had been half .f'otSstjiouspf fitting lights and hoarse sea wHenr: but all these had ceased long ago and now tho clack hull of the new arrival rc.se up in the gloom, solemn and silent, with her masts slightly tilted olf and a lantern forward gleaming like a dim ’yellow star. t Id Tom Saunders paced the deck of the dingy hulk ho was on, with his pipe pipped fast between his teeth and his hands stowed away down m the pockets of histhrcadiiaie pea-jacket. The bat tered and decaying bout was no shabbier and more woe-! egone than the man. Old Tom ho was by virtue of tho yeurs that had turned his few straggling locks gray and drawn all sorts of deep farrpvvs across his face. Familiarly Lid j Tom ameng tho wharf men, who knew him us such ever since ho hud come along on the old canal boat, a broken-down man with a flavor of better times about him. Facetiously Old Tom. in conse quence of the fondness for the tipple of that name which, it was hinted, had dragged him down to h s present low estate. Old Tom Saunders had once been burly, and ho was still a big man, but he had lost all his flesh. His face looked like worn parchment, and hud that colorless, bleached out nppearatice which a life of constant excesses begets. There was also that nervous twitching about the lips and that aimless wander ing of the fingers which betoken a con- atitution unstrung and shattered. “So this is < hristmas Eve, eh?” mut tered Old Tom with a snort that was half a groan. “Christinas live, and nary a bite in the locker nor a nickel in the jjocket! It's blasted hard—blasted hard for a man that’s seen better days,” He crunched the pipestem between his teeth and made another round of the deck, but stopped when he had reached the old place again. ‘‘There’s sorno as ’ud say ’twns mis- fortin did it. And some as ’ud croak ’bout ill-luck. 'Twusn’t neither. 'Twas rum. 1 um and me own mulUhness. Ef 1 dadn’t driv that boy away, he’d be now makin’ a good livin’ for her, no matter what I wus about, and she wouldn’t bo In there dyin’—dyin’ for a bite to eat.” Ashe spoke he glanced at the little 'Tokev hole in tho cabin, where a faint light glimmered, and turned again to the dark line of the water front. “She was never the same after he went •way—never the same bouncing gal that used to’liven up the old bouse like a aunbeam. 'Twas that tuk all the go out o’ her. And 1 had to get to work and blame her for sulkin’ when her heart wus breakin’.” Ho took the pipe from his mouth and absently shoved it in his pocket. “It m'ght 'a been all right,” he went on. “It might ’a been all right ef I hadn’t carried on us I did till house and ■hop and everything went to smash. But I had to keep a-goia’ while the money' lasted, and now—now,” he repeated with a solemn inclination of the bead, “it’s gone.” He swung about to resume his lone some walk but the glimmer in tho cabin brought him to a standstill. “She's there,” he said, and thero was and remorse iu hie voice. “She’s his b*by and thinkin’ of its ■--eyes out about l>y inches.” bn came from the l-of a horn away down to tho silent Ir of the holiday jollity ping on ashore. The man started as he beard it. “She won’t be without her supper,” he said. “ Not while this here toy’s lyin’ around.” He groped a moment in hie pocket and drew out a ring—a plain gold cir clet, evidently tho symbol of a consum mated union. “I had to sneak it away unbeknownst to her,” he muttered, turning the shin ing trinket around in his fingers. “I’m afraid she’d take on a deal if she knowed it, for she hangs on to any keepsake of hi-, for bare lift. But what’s tne use, And the ring aud hand that held it went down into the pocket again. “What’s j the use o’ bein’ senteemental and snick- | erin’ over sich things when a square meal can be got for it, and p’raps— p’raps a drop t’ drive away the chill.” He glanced, half frightened, half apologetically, at the litle window as he spoke, slipped carefully by on tiptoe a9 though fearful of being confronted by the occupant of the cabin, reached th? side, looked back again and then stepped out upon the pier and slunk away. It was only a moment’s space after when thero sounded among the low. harsh whispers of the river something that seemed deep in the darkness, but not of it—something suggestive of heat aud light and home, and not of this black flood and these great marine phan toms standing so solemn in the gloom. It was the cry of a child. Low and weak, suppressed as soon as uttered, it still had a strange shrillness in the si lent p ace, and of all the sad voices of tide and timbers, it seemed by far the saddest. It came front the cabin of an old camd boat, came only for an instant and died away in what fancy involunta rily pictured a mother’s kisses and ca resses. .Old Tom heard it half way up to the wharf. He heard it atrd arrested his cautious footsteps and brought his face about in a twinkling to the tiny-lighted space in the cabin that barely reached his eye where he stood. The cry was not repeated. But he stood there for over a minute with his whole soul, it seemed, intent upon that d m glimmer ing pane. Hi- hand-mechanically grop ing in his pocket, touched the ring and it seemed to startle him. He took out the little trinket and looked at it care fully, as though making sure that it was really there, and blushed it with a rough, greasy sleeve. Then r without a glance at the street on which he had been wnl mg, he passed back along the. pier, crossed to the boat again and walked straight up to the cabin and en tered. A ship’s lantern hanging from the roof showed a rough table, a couple of boxes, a tarpaulin,'Rome ends of rope, apd on a loosened ana slanting berth an infant with a woman kneeling beside it. It was a pleasing face she turned up to the old mau as he came in—p easing, itnd it had been very pretty—but there was a sad gauntness about it now and tho dark, tender eyes looked out from blueish hollows. “Where have you been, father?” she asked. “baby has been restless again. I’m afraid that the child is growing worse.” This with a look of infinite solicitude at the tiny creature beside her. “And it’s so hard to see the poor dear suffering and be able to do noth ing. Why, father, what is tho matter?" :-he might well ask. The poor man was standing, with his head sunk upon his breast, and great tears were rolling down his faded cheeks. His eyes were fixed upon the little cabin window, but it was clear that bis mind was far away, fie started as she spoke, and when he answered it was in a voice broken with sobs. “Libbie," he said, “my poor gal, I’ve been a bad father to you, a reg’lar bad 'un, ain't I? I’ve ruined tho littlehome you oughter be in, and brought you and your child to this. I know that ain’t the wust, neither. I driv him away that would be a support and comfort t’you, and left that leetcl creetur ithout a father. I’ve done all that, and I was a- goin to do more, God forgive me, this very night, only for hearin’ your baby cryin’. I meant it for the best, I did, but I knowed that it would ’a hurt your feel- in’s wuss than anything else. There, Libbie; take it. It was very nigh a-goin’ as every thing else has.” ring to you, Libbie—to you, me poor j roamed over the black profile of the gal.” I buildings and the tail l rick phantoms He satdown on a box and ran his hand far off in tho-air as though they would through his tangled hair and saw the pietce to the he'artof tbat'throbbinghivo woman dry her eyes and look at him and pluck from it some secret hidden kindly ana pityingly. Once or twice he there. A glimpse of tho moon showed bit his lips and shook his head, as though overhead for a moment, and the spars a struggle Were going on within him and and ropes stood out clearer; but soon it then, in a broken voice, he said: “Libbie, was veiled, and the figure went on in the. I’ve somethin’ t’ tell you, but I’ve been dark up and down, up and down as be- ashamed t’ open me mouth about it. fore. There’s times now when I look bnck t’ | | “God bless you, mates, for this night’s the days when you was a bright gal, and work. God bless you I” S oorNed—yes, poor Ned—I never called The words stole out into the air from im that befote, but now I must—when the open eompanionway, and Old Tom poor Ned was makiu’ love t* you and I Saunders, who had uttered them, dime was makin’ a brute o’ meself t’ him. He up with a bottle and pan. Once be wus a good lad, but 1 wits so cussed ptumbled in h s haste, but quickly re stuck up with mo shop and the loafers Coveting himself, he came on to'the about it, that used t’ brag about me that deck. The silent figure bad paused and 1 wouldn't stand bis marryin’ you. When turned toward tho voice. It moves to- you tuck him, and I hunted him away ward it. and then with a wild cry with me abuse and mo drink, I d dn’t Springs forward. The liuht from the think the day would come when I’d be ship's lantern falls on Old Tom's face, sorry for it. But it has, i.ibbio. it has. haggatd and blanche,d and excited: on He’s gone. Maybe gone for good.” the face of the other, too—young and The woman was crying agiiiu, but she hearty, but sad and white with passion, wiped away her tears at this and raised And in the veilow glow the tvw men her pale face again. “Oh. don’t say that, father, don’t say that,” she cried. * .\ed will come some time. He will find us yet. it seems so strange this ong waiting. But he said he would come to claim me as his wife when ho was able to support me, and he’ll do it. I remember when he went away. He said to me: ‘i.ibbie, your father forces me to this. Come with mo or stay with him, which ever you wish, but depend upon it that I shall be back soon to claim you, my little wife, and when I do I’ll come like a man, w.ll- ing and able to take are of yon and take odds from no one.’ Then he said: know each otbsr. j With a grand sweep of the bnnd the stsanger has dashed tiom tlie old man's hand the bottle, and it I ^ smashed | upon the timbers, while the young, manly lace is thrust into the other's and a voice cries in h a ears: “inr-eit! Let itlietl.e e. It was that robbed me o’ my wife. It was that drove me away into the world a wanderer in search of her. Curse the stuff I It was the cause of all:” and the heavily shndden toot comes down ou the splintered glass tiil it crackles beneath It. Old Tom has started back aghast at the young man s vehemence, but in that moment r set to , his lips a t ry that sweeps enmity and passion away: “My God, Ned, it was for herl She is dying ” '1 he strong hand of the young seaman is on the others arm, and the face is even whiter as he demands: “"hat do you nteauf She is dying. Where? trpeak, man! Tell me at once.” “There, in that boat. Yes, that old hulk of ttcanuwier,” he adds, inresponse to the other’s in uir ng glauco. “That’s what we’ve come to now ” The young man urns and is at the vesse’s side hefo'e < Id Tom can call out: “Where are yougoingf You will kill her. i idu’t . tellyouahe is dying —dying of want.” 1- ront the other’s breast comes a groan, HOLIDAY GREENS. ORIGIN OF THE CUSTOM DECORATING HOUSES. OF L< ad me to her. God will not rob me of her now. Come a ong.” Tho two pass over the wharf and go $owi! into the cabin of the old boat,^ Irtish which the tlim tight is shining,and ' batu there, awakened from her swoon, but still dazed and frgittened. is the girl of ‘Whenever you see that ring think of me and remember t at I will be work mg ado, 'P: prolonged one, and he says m an hard to keep my word.’ Ho went away altered tone: then and I have tried never to doubt 1 ,,u1 ,nntn har nnA "' 11 nnt rnh him. But it is so hard to wait and wait and hear nothing. He may be dead. He cannot be untrue. Disappointed perplexed as I am Twill not believe it. But. no word, no word. It is that is killing mo.” , , Old Tom arose and walked the length maD " love \ w ' f V ,f h,s of his cabin, then turned about and came thoughts, lying like a blighted flower, back to the seat on the box. Then he The father was the first to descend, leaned over to her and said: a ? d hc turned afc lhe entrance to restrain 'Tm agoin* to te l you somethin’Lib- his companion, bie. It’s somethin’I oughter told you “A moment, Ned. Wait a moment lctg ago but Id dn’t have the courag’, The surprise is too sudden, me gal, to own up to what a scoundrel I ^j ie young man drew back into the wus” shadow while the other lifted lip the The woman dried her tears and there woman and seated her by the berth. “I was a look of interest in the pale face am better, father, ’sheisa.d, and laid her that encouraged him to go on. But he still hesitated and said to her with a trembling voice, “You won’t cuss me, Libbie, will you; bad as I may be you’ll forgive me now that I’ve come around and mean to do better. ” She remained impassive and only said “Go on, father.” | “I will. 1 will, if it kills me. Libbie, head wearily beside the sleeping child. But old 1 om’s actions soon attracted her. He was sm ling, actually smiling, a-nd rubbing his hands with infinite compla cency, t-he said nothing but looked at him inquiringly. “It’s a good night is Christmas Eve,” he blurted out. “I’ve always heerd so. Ain’t you, Libbie? Sandy Claws brings don’t you worry’yourself on account o’ things t’ cliil'rcn, and fr.ends come to- * - . * *' __ rrot hor ami nawa rnniAQ n’ npfinlo tnflt Ned’s stickin by you. He wus true to ! you all along. He wrote to you. He sent money to you. He never forgot you, poor boy, and I—I tuck letters, money and all. i The man groveled down upon his j knees beside the box and his hend sunk | upon his hands. He was that moment ! the veriest picture of humiliation and re- | morse. But she before whom he hum- ! bled himself did not seem to see him. j Her eyes were fixed on vacancy and her ! lips opened aud closed as though she j were speaking to some one unseen. ! Then she rose will a cry of “Edward, my husband, whom I would have I wronged by doubting, come to me; come, or I will die,” and fell on the floor in a swoon. The old man, all in a tremble, crept to her, raised her in his arms, dashed water into her face, laid her down again, and rushing to a shelf, felt for a bottle and held it to the light. Empty i A curse He held nnt the little gold ring to her and turned his head away. In an instant the woman was on her feet Her long, th n hand clutched the bauble and ahot fiit-h showed itself on her pallid, sunken cheek. “Father,” she cried, “would yon dare!" In her indignation she was speechless for a moment, but then she broke down and the tears came. “It is all I have left,” she moaned, “all I have left to remind me of him — all of his father’s the child may ever see. How could you think of it, father? It was cruel—cruel. ” “ ’Twas all wrong, yes ’twas, Libbie," the man assented. “But it bruck me heart to think o’ yon and that leetle ’un sittin’ here supperless. 1 heerd the bells tollin’ up in the city and the horna a-blowiu , and I knowed that everybody was bavin a good t me on Chrismiss Eve n gbt. while you was starvin’. 1 couldn’t stand it I sneaked away with the rang to pawn it or sell it, 1 didn’t care what, till 1 heard the littie craetur’s erv, aud it brought me to myself agin. ‘His chi Id I’ I says to meself. His child I And I right about and comm back hero with the gether and news comes o’ people that ain’t been ’round for ever so long. Don’t they, eh:” She looked at him more intently than ever, and there was an eager, appealing look in her eyes. “No one knows when luck may change. Do they?” tho man continued. “Father, you have heard something. Tell me, is it about him?’’ “’Bout Ned? Well, yes I have. Now, don’t take on, Libbie. You'll bo quiet and easy, like a good gal.” “It is about him: You have seen him. You have met him. He has come for me at last ” Shcturncc toward the cabiu door,and was stretching her hand toward it when she was clasped to the breast of her hus band and Itis voice repeated: “At last.” Thero were tears and caresses and ex planations Ned hau come back from his wanderings as mate of the big bark with a ptom se of soon ha ing the com mand of a iessel for himself. In the joy •he Practice a Relic of the Roman Saturnalia—The Habit of Adorn ing Churches With Flowers Becoming Prevalent. HERE has long been a mooted question, whence arose the custom decorating churches and homer at G'hrist- m&stide ? Anti quarian", as we have intimated, are divided in their opinions as to the or gin of the custom. Our English ancestors very likely derived the practice either ftom the < eltic nations or front the Saturnalia of the Romans, possibly from both. Wherever Liruidism existed the houses were adorned w th ei ergreens, so that the sylvan spirits might find there a safe shelter ftom the wind and the frost. The oak mistletoe, an eesential element in the b oody ceremonieaof old magician pr ests. has become tenderly significant of the happiness and love that should sb >und at the joyous Christmas sea-on. When ft. Augustine arrived in Britain ho wa9 wise enough to mili/A the 1 agau customs by giving them a Christian significance, pre-erving such parts as were innocent in themse.ves, and thus it is probable that the practice of dei orating the home- and ’emples waa continued. ueb a method has been fol lowed successfully by modern miss on- anes notably iu the Sandwich Islands and trave ers tell us the delight with which these flower-loving children biing their trop cal berries and flowers to help in the beautifying of their humble churches. We th nk it is un.juestiouable that the wise spirit of accommodation shown by Augustine,in adopting va ious Pagan ceremonies to the use of Chri-tian wor-hip, was not onlv the cause of bis success as a missionary, but al-o the reasons why, especially, we twine at this season the body and the bay, and turn winter into summer. It is an historical fact that the Foman Saturnalia were celebrated at the same time of tho year as the fea-t of Christ mas, but whether the formar had an^ thing to do with the.' cause or comme”-""" - ' ’ decide world between many of oar church** alt Christmas and what they wer* a gen eration ago. The time has gone by when a crowd of young and old used to go out in the damp, cold woods, cat down the snow-laden trees, or pull up miles of ground-pine and then art for a week of nights in a freezing church, to make th* “trimmings’* for Christmas. The work is done now in many instances by professional decorato: s. and so it is no more a labor of love on the part of the congregation, as it certainly should be. It will not do to leave onr sub’cct without mentioning the Chri-tmas tree, popularly so called, though only of late years has it been naturalized in England or our own country. It is a gift from Germany, yet one who is ctrious in >uch matters might perhaps trace it lack to the toy pine tree, hung with osc.lla,- which boys and grl* in ancient Home looked for on the sixth and seventh days of the rnturnalia. and one of wh ch Tiberias gave to hi* nephew Claudius. The Egypt ans had their palm teee, and the Buddt.ists their tree of vnt ve gifts and possibly the cu>tom drifted west ward, until Germany ( hristiani/.ed it in honor of ft. Mat emits, who first pro- cla med the good t>d ng* of ( hristmas in that land. It has be< otne popn'ar among us, and long may its verdant branches wave with lovely fru.t for young nnd old. when we compare the and mummeries indulged 1 in up to com paratively recent times, the resemblance between the two feasts u striking, even in particular details. When the men j* tree, Oh! the laurel, the evergreen i The poets have laurels and why not wet —Barry Cornwall. <1/ upon the fiery brew that had, brought nwa or a * essel lor bimstdf. in the joy ruin and was gone when it might do of tbo moment all the ha dsh ps and pr.- good! He knelt again, beat her hands, vaat ' on ® . of „. lhe past *' ero atui wrung his own. and then starting up a £ l ft e J£ ,,ff «eaman cuddled In* own like a madman, dashed out into the air, ® h,ld . whose acquaintance he then made leaving the woman lying in the cabin u tortlubnt time, he said to the happy though the were dead. Over to the pier mouier • and across it he hurried. He tan to the side of the big bark. ' There was no gang-plank there, but he sprang for the j lower rigging, grabbed it and clambered on the deck. He 6aw a figure pacing up and down in the dark, aud the yellow light for ward showed a couple of seamen who hud risen from a coil of rope. He turned towsid them, and with hands stretched entreatingly, he called out “For God’s sake, mates, let me have a drop of grog, or somethin’. Mo gal, me daughter’s dyin’ over on tho boat there, and I’ve nothin’ to bring her too. A drop o’ somethin’ nnd a bite to strengthen her, ef you’re men.” The figure in the dark stopped, and a voice asked: “What’s all this hubbub about?” “Please, sir,” said one of the sailors, “a man’s come aboard to say a woman’s sick in a boat lyin' off there, and he wants somethin’ to help her out.” “Send him to the steward,” said the voice, and the form melted in the dark ness aft. Up and down, up and down it went over the smooth deck—a manly figure, but with stooping head and a solemn, thoughtful face. Once or twice the lat ter turned to th* big city, aud the eyes “Didn’t I tell you. T ibbie, whenever you looked at your wedding ring to »e- membcrme,and be sure I would keep my word?” She glanced at the tiny circlet and her eyes caught sight of Tom sitting with bended head, nnd the tears stream ing down his cheeks. And as she pressed her lipe to the tr nket he said “ od bless that ring! It has brought us joy and happiness on Christmas Eve,” I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year — Dtclm* | ODe of the most prominent South Jer sey “industries” is the preparation of evergreen decorations for Christmas and j New Year’s. The festoons are the.’ i work of women and gi is. the n i rial being fnrni'hed by the male’ of the family,and the product is: : in barrel! to New York and PI phia. Teddy’s Horry Christmas, j Never in his Hfe did Teddy ha i snch a hard time going to 6ieep as that last night before Christmas. The more mamma sang to him and C Id him stories, the more his eyes would not shut “Why, I am afraid Santa Clause won’t have a chance to come here to-night,” his mother said, as the clock struck nine. “Oh, dear! I will go to sleep this minute;” and Teddy put his hands over j his eyes to hold them shut. “.Mamma, what did you tell Santa yon ' wanted him to bring to you?” The hauds : came down, and the eyes flew wide open again. “Ob, never mind; I’m too sleepy to The time came, however, when in the think;” ard mamma put her head down strife for the ascendancy. Chiist’amty on the pillow beside her wide-awake determined to ght paganism wish the boy, and kept as still as if she were latter’s own weapons, and the customs as.cep. and revelr es were carried to such au ex- Teddy patted her cheek, pinched her treme that several early church councils nose, aud felt of her closed eyelids for a fotbude, among other things, the decora- min teor two: then he put his face down tion of private houses aftei the manner close to hers, and—and— of tha <>man Saturnalia. But the prac tice of adorning churches with flowers wa* not condemned, as extract* from the writings of tho early th istians wll show. In hta w.irk “De t ivitate i ei.” the African Augustine speaks of floral di-corations, aud of a m racle wrought by flower* brought from the shrine of St Stephen Gregory of Tour* pra ses the holy Confessor Severn* for having been in the habit of decorating his church with I lies. Ycnantius Fortuna- tus, a p'-et of the fifth century, send ng to t hitdeguud aud . goes now and then a bunch of violets, a cluster of toseluids, or a spray of lilies, is severe in hi* con tra t be ween ineu who crowd their bouse* with exotics, or women who deck their breasts, aud the more devoted and MISTLETOE. The next he knew it was inorn’ng. The sun was ust sending his first beam of light into tne room. Pussy had pious who bring their chon es 1 floral of- . jumped into toe bed. and Teddy l°°k ferings to 1 od's house. And this con- \ her it.to his arms. Then I eddy rubbed trast is very evident iu the-e days of ours, his eyes, and looked very sharp iu the wi.en va*t sums are lavished on flowers p'* o "here that little beam was shin- only doomed to wither tn toe hot air of mg on the floor. For thero, sitting the ball room, or to mingle the r fra- straight up, with legs and arms sticking grauce with the odors of the dinner- straight out. was the funniest Litle man table. : you ever saw. ?n these latter days, the Christian' it took Teddy a full minute to make world seems to be getting back to the up his mind whether it was a real little more tender solicitude of eirly times in man or only a make believe one. Then its car* for the <ieautifyiug of our churches, t here is now what m ght al most be called, science of decoration, v. oluines are published upon the subject, profusely illustrated with every sort ot device to please the eye and iuspire the devotional feeling—the cross fleurie, the cross patom e. the q.'artre foil, the cinque foil, the vesica, the four, fiveand -ix poiuted star, the illegible Greek characters, bands, shield-, drapers and medall ons. things requiting great neat ness of design aud carefulness of execu tion. There i* all th* difference in the* he rolled out of bed and caught tho funny fellow by the coat. By this t me lie had looked him all over, another beam of light was pi eping in at the window, lighting up all the dark corners of the room. And then such a lot of things as Teddy saw I can not begin to tell vou. You -may be sure ho was glad that be went to sleep in time lor rania Glaus to come. For you know he never comes until little boy9 are last asleep. Re member this on Christmas Eve. — Treat- lire TYerr,