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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.