Georgia Historic Newspapers

    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,