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-Hai STMAS, 1834.
pucji a, lot
M&*- iSSuiKMcSu.
S 'K??^ k '“rba
Arul sav- - ti! ' ton.
And —Dolly nroo£°a"ain ••’° kSCS ’ ****’
down -
Poor Polly wouldn°t L hlve a thing
<low terrible that would be! ’
jl \ r ' r . J s * n^e toy he’d bring
tie ands pose would b’long to me! '
P °r!o y fnr2 t S take our pieture books
Before we go to bed,
✓ * And UarnS! 10 ° kS i and “ Doll y Brooks.”
mi Uan k then> overhead.
° l ' l Santa comes our way.
He H smile the biggest grins.
•ww°u roUn<l the *ed. and say:
What have we here? Ah. twins!”
‘ —Outlook.
J Stout little can
gether at the neck with strong cord; neat
little paper rolls of silver dollars piled
up in pyramid form, and heaps and
heaps of packages of hills counted and
done up in little paper bands! Some
of these packages were of one-dollar
hills and some of fives and some of tens;
others of twenties and fifties and one
hundreds. They were stacked up at
the back of the desk where Thomas
Tippy was at work in the bank, for he
was a teller of some sort, or under
tel.inr, or something which entailed a
deal of work and very little pay,
■ positions of responsibility 7 often do.
k one looked through the little brass-
F.rred window at “Tommy,” as every
body in the bank called him, he ap
peared to be a veritable money king,
health was all around. Besides being
ail over the two standing desks be
tween which he worked, it was stowed
away in drawers, I have no doubt, and
piled up on the lloor.
Tommy was hard at work. It was
the day before Christmas, and people
had been making deposits, and drawing
money, and getting drafts, and doing
all sorts of things which they
will insist on putting off till
the last minute. lie was writ
ing in an effort to close up affairs for
the day, and his arm rested as he
wrote on a package of one-liundred-dol
lar hills when he glanced up and saw at
the little grating through which he had
to look at the public a pair of big,
greedy eyes set in a very small and very
wan face. The face itself barely
reached above the window-ledge, and
Tommy couldn’t tell whether it be
longed to a boy or a girl, it was so
pinched, and hungry, and dirty. Ihe
eyes of the face were devouring the
money, as the eyes of the poor are prone
to do, and the owner of the face seemed
lost in contemplation of the gorgeous
sight. „
Then the eyes saw that Tommy was
looking at them and shifted to meet Ins
own. Tommv noted tnat they were
singularly beautiful eyes of brown,
with long, curving lashes. He must
have been looking into them with a
very kindly gaze, for they seemed to
read in his look a friendliness that
made their owner bold.
. “Please, mister,” said a small voice,
which evidently came from the owner
of the eyes, “can't I go on an errun , er
something, so's to earn a little Chris mus
The owner of the eyes evidently took
Tommv for the owner of all the wealth
ar o.jnd him, and of the whole institu
tion as well, and had a notion that if he
chose he could hand out a bag of gold
coin or two or three of the thick slabs
.•BEEN a-waitin’ fer ye.”
~ . „. pre scattered
of greenbacks wine This abiding
around so P"— outhe part
XSrowner rfaesmaH, wan face so
flustered Tommy that he could do noth
g for a moment but stare at the big
brown eyes and grow red in the face.
1 mally he said;
by, you sec—ahem—it's—it's "
And here thq watchman came along
and, seeing the ragged little owner of
the face, hustled him out with some
scornful remarks about beggars. As
tic little fellow disappeared through
the door and down the outside steps
Tommy saw a slight figure tattered and
; shivering. And then the doors swung
■ sll . ut ;in, i Tommy turned to his work.
i with all of his own troubles crowded
out of mind and only sympathy for the
poor little waif occupying his thoughts
i He forgot all about the load of obli
gation that was on him and his hope
less struggles to extricate himself from
the quicksand of debt into which he had
floundered in his efforts to care for his
•••••, ■' r j
A race for a holiday dinner.
poor old mother and a helpless invalid
sister in a little Wisconsin town. The
load had been made infinitely heavier
by a sad accident to his mother, which
had resulted in a broken limb and
which had necessitated nurses and in
creased doctors’ bills and no end of ex
pense during the fall, and Tommy had
been obliged to borrow money from a
private Shylook in the bank and pay a
ruinously usurious interest per month t*oi
the same. He had luuLto send home the big
end of his small salary, too. each month,
and. what between this and the bor
rowed money he had run behind in his
I_h).il'd. and was in about as desperate a
financial fix as a nurd-working, honest
and faithful employe ever was. Only
the extreme kindliness of the little old
lady with whom Tommy boarded in a
little old cottage on a little by-street on
the West side enabled him to keep his
head above water at all. But he was one
of those stout-hearted fellows of whom
the creat world rarely hears, and
wouldn't let himself get sour or eross.
When at last he had straightened
everything up and had packed away
the bundles of bills, and the bags- of
crold. and the paper rolls with the silver
dollars inside, and had run over m his
mind all the good he might do if only a
Snail portion of all this money was his
QW tiOQQ&Y* wmmwr.
own, he took down his shabby overcoat
from its peg, shook himself into it, put
on his hat, and went out of the bank.
He noticed that the streets were full of
happy, hurrying throngs of people,
most of whom hail some package or
bundle, but he wasn't envious, though
he wished for a moment that he might
have been able to send to hi> mother
and sister some of the many pretty
things he had seen through the shop
windows as he walked homeward each
evening.
He started west at a brisk walk for
he couldn’t afford to ride, and it was
crisply cold. He hadn't gone far when
he noticed a small figure trotting along
by his side. He looked at it and
caught two big brown eyes glancing up
into his own.
It was the boy who had wanted to
earn the “Christmas stake.”
Tommy stopped short, so did the boy.
“Hello!’’ said Tommy, cheerily.
“Where did you come from?”
“Been a-waitin’ fer ye.” piped the
small voice, with equal cheeriness.
“T’ought mebbe you might want a
errun* run somers.”
“What’s your name?” asked Tommy,
in an admiring tone, his face beaming.
“Chip.”
"Anything else?”
“Nop. Nothin' but Chip. Ye see.
I’m a hustlin’ fer myself, an’ 1 liain’t
had no time to think up names. A lit
tle feller like ine don't ketch on very
easy, you know.”
Tommy had started on and this last
speech had come from the small figure
as it trotted along. He looked down
and saw the big brown eyes looking up
at him. They were beautiful to look
into, and the voice was such a cheery
little voice, without a traee of a whine in
it. that Tommy felt immensely re
freshed.
“And what made you pick me out?”
asked Tommy.
“Well, I liked your locks, and—
w'y, you own the bank, don’t you, an’
all that money, an’ everything?”
Tommy looked down again and
laughed. Chip looked up and laughed.
It was right jolly to chum along that
way, and they both felt first-rate.
Then Tommy said:
“Well, I don't exactly o>rn the bank.
I’ve only got an interest in it. Say!
To-morrow's Christmas! Know that?"
•'Bet 1 do!" said Chip; “that's w'y I'm
a hustlin’. I want to be in with the
other good people. I want to eat tur
key."
“Well. I tell you," said Tommy, ”1
don't want any errands done, and I
and n't know of anything I can give you
to do. Chip—"
Here the wan little face looked up
bravely and the big brown eyes stead
ied themselves a bit till Tommy had
finished.
"But I'll take you home with me, if
you like, and you can share mv Christ
mas dinner with me, whatever it may
be. How's that: eh. old man?"
The big brown eyes in the little pale
face glistened with the tears that
touches of unexpected kindness always
produce in sensitive natures, but the
voice made a great effort to be as brave
and cheery as ever when it replied be
tween shivers:
“I call that —'way up in G. an’—
you’re a pr —prince o’ the blood —you
are!”
“Put it there.” said Tommy, as he
stepped under a gas lamp and held his
hand to the little great soul by his side.
The cool little hand snuggled confident
ly in his and the eyes looked back into
his own and the bond of intimacy and
warm friendship was complete.
Thereafter Tommy held Chip's hand
as they tramped along west, and when
they reached the side street in which
he lived. Tommy lifted the thin little
figure in his arms and with Chip’s hands
clasped round his neck walked into the
presence of kind old Mrs. Bloomer It
was meager fare they had that night,
considered from the standard of high
livers, but Tommy was used to it and it
was simply luxurious to Chip.
But the next day. after Tommy had
chummed with Chip all forenoon and
got friendly and learned all about him
—which wasn’t much, he hadn’t a
friend in the world —and after Mrs.
Bloomer had taken him in hand and
scrubbed him up and fitted him into a
back-number jacket and trousers which
her own boy had worn years and years
ago, before he ran off on a lake schoon
er and got drowned —then it came din
ner time, and oh. dear! what a feast
that dinner was to Chip. There wasn't
any turkey, but there was the tenderest
and best stewed chicken that ever Mrs.
Bloomer had cooked, and the gravy w as
simply delicious. Then there were
nice, warm biscuit to split in half and
smother with this gravy; and mashed
potatoes and homemade bread and but
ter: and to top off with there was the
thickest, and juicest, and sweetest ap
ple pie that ever was baked. And Chip
had two glasses of real milk.
And how his big brown eyes sparkled
and his pale cheeks brightened! What
a merry little fellow he proved to be,
with his quaint sayings and his extrav-
agant admiration of Tommy! And when
dinner was over and Chip was happy as
he could be Tommy got out his har
monica and played dead marches till
Chip was “mighty nigh to bustin’,” as
he himself expressed it.
In the evening Tommy took Chip to
the theater and sat up in the twenty
five cent gallery, and they had the best
time in the world, and wouldn’t have
changed places with the swell people in
the first-floor boxes, not on any ac
count. And when they had gone home
and to bed and Chip had snuggled
down by his side, Tommy asked:
“What are you thinking about, Chip,
old man?”
A small, thin arm stole up over Tom
my’s breast and hugged his shoulder
warmly.
“I was jist a offerin’ a bet to myself,”
said Chip, sleepily, “that you wasn’t
nothin’ less’n own brother to San tv
Claus. Ain’t ye?”
But before Tommy could answer
happy little Chip was far afloat on
dreamland’s delightful sea and was
living over again the pleasures of the
day, while in Tommy’s heart there
crooned a soothing song more sweet
and comforting than any millionaire in
all the great big city could ever hope to
hear.—Kirk La Shelle, in Chicago Mail.
MEW VEAEI, 1895.
’ ''Vf things. :md
ZZr- dream e and the
old-time dreams;
And wife was at her knit;in.' while I was
smokin’ slow.
But both of us was flunkin' of a Christmas long
ago.
We old folks—well, we ain't so much on Christ
mas nowadays.
Although the Lord has led us’long on all our
wanderin’ ways;
But, sittin’ by the old fireplace, the bright
liarnes seem to glow
And light a little face we loved one Christmas
—long ago!
A liltle face—the sweetest face of all the vil
lage girls.
Like spring's red roses blossomin’ rimmed
'round with golden curls;
A face we’ve kissed—a face we’ve missed for
many a weary year;
(How sweet the Christmas time would be if
that dear face was near!)
We didn’t think John good enough for Mary,
but you see,
Her mother—she was always jes so much too
good for me.
That though they took and run away—and
though it seemed a crime.
I said I'd look it over if they'd come back
Christmas time.
The house, it seems so lonesome, with only
wife an’ me;
An’ Christmas ain’t like Christmas now, an
never more will be;
An' though we thank the Lord for all, we can’s
keep back the sighs.
An' through the sunshine of the years the raia.
falls 'round our eyes!
* * * * +
They sat beside tbe flickering fire, and in its
ruddy gleams ,
They talked about the old-time things, and
dreamed the old-time dreams;
The Mary of the golden curls, and one who
loved her best,
And sweetly dreamed a little one upon ths
mother’s breast.
THEY SAT BESIDE THE FLICKERING FIRE.
And looking in the face of him who leaned
above her there,
And kissed her cheek, and tenderly smoothed
down her golden hair,
She said: “We’ve been so long away from,
mother, that I know
She’s lonely in tbe home we left so many year s
ago!”
No other words she said, but he kissed bock
the tears that came,
And whispered: “If they loved you then, they
love you still the same;
The old home must be lonely, though the fire
is blazing bright—
The little one shall plead for us—they'll kiss
him Christmas night!”
And so it was that, while afar o'er the remem
bered dells
Still brightly beamed each Christmas star and
pealed the Christmas bells,
Tbe wanderers went home, and in its loveli
ness and light
They found a welcome, and a kiss for baby-
Christmas night!
—Frank L. Stanton, in Atlanta Constitution.
Definite and Specific.
Our resolutions for the new year
should he definite and specific. Do not
say simply that you will he more lib
eral, hut say just how liberal you will
be. Do not say that you will he more
faithful, but say just what duties,
neglected in the past, you will engage
to perform in the future. Do not
promise that you will give more of
your time to the service of the Master,
but decide upon the proportion of your
time which you will give. A promise
may he almost or altogether worthless
because of indefiniteness. Let us deal
honestly and reverently with Him
whom we serve. Vow and pay.—-
United Presbyterian.
SANTA CLAUS IN CHICAGO.
Santa Claus—Take me up to the roof,,
boy. I tried to get there in my nsual
way. but it was no use—my team isn't
equal to it!—Puck.
