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I like that old iweet legend Not found in Holy Writ And with that John or Matthew Had made Bible out of it. But, though it it not a gospel, There is no law to hold The heart from growing better That heart the ttory told: How the little Jewith children Upon a summer day Went down across the meadows With the Child Christ to play And in the gold green valley Where low the reed grass lay They made them mock mud sparrows Out of the meadow clay. 80, when these all were fashioned And ranged in flocks about, "Now," said the little Jesus, “We'll let the birds fly out.” Then all the happy children Did call and coax and cry Each to his own mud sparrow, “Fly, as I bid you—fly!" 1/ mu LlTrt.U HI*AIllUIW WENT SOARING TO TliK BUY. But earthen wore the sparrows, And earth they did remain, Though loud the Jewish children Cried out and cried again. Except the one bird only The little Lord Christ made. The earth that owned him master, His earth heard and obeyed. Softly he loaned and whispered, "Fly up to heavon, fly!" And swift his little sparrow Went soaring to the sky. And silent all the children Stood awestruck looking on Till deep into the heavens The bird of earth had gone. I like to think for playmate We havo the Lord Christ still And that still above our weakness He works his mighty will; That all our little playthings Of earthen hopes and joys Shall be by his commandment Changed into heavenly joys. Our souls are like the sparrows Imprisoned in the clay— Bless him who came to give them wings Upon a Christmas day. Most Liberal Christmas Givers. Tin* tiljr prlvnti* banking houses of Wall street tire tlu* most liberal re- warders at t'hrlstnias. Just as they are the heaviest salary payers throughout the year. The greatest house III the street has been known to give HK) per rent bonus to all employees at New Year's -that Is, double pay for the en tire year. In that firm New Year's Is the greater day. Nobody has ever ex plained exactly why It Is preferred to Christmas. Often the house gives 40 IH*r cent. But. like other private bank ing firms, It never lets It get out what bonus It will pay for fear that the slue of the gift will be taken by the world to Indicate the state of pros perity of the linn's preceding year. Every year the amount of the bonus naturally doe* leak out afterward through the people who get pieces of It and who lunch with benefited ones from other bunking houses. So It is that almost everything in Wall street leaks out through the imiiab'e weak nesses of luncheon gossip. Ths "Little People'*” Chriitma*. Long ago. in Merry England, the popular belief was that the “little peo ple” id the forest come at Yule time to join In the Christmas festivities with mortals. Now. It is well known that the “little people" do not like to tie seen and will not venture where there Is any possibility of prying hu man eyes ilndlng them. So, In order to please their sprightly little guests, rich and poor provide the tiny friends with hiding places of thick, green wreathe and festoons, where they can 1 s»k on the revelries unseen. THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT; A CHRISTMAS FANCY D UIYEN from the heart of tin* people. Christ Ilia* Spirit left the great shops, tied from the market places and from every habitat of man until he came to the quiet little sunlit path that runs through the deep wood. When he was yet afar off the most perfect I'ir Tree In all the forest called ga.vly to the Great Oak at her side. “Christmas Is coming!'' “Yes," answered the big oak, "but there Is something wrong. Bee how he halts at the end of the path, stoop ing as If the load of the world’s sor row lay upon his shoulders. See how he comes now, witty all the gluduess gone from Ids step.” It was quite true. Christinas Spirit eame toward the most perfect Fir Tree In the wood with lagging step, looking away through the forest with sad and troubled eyes. “Why, what Is the matter, Christ mas'/’’ called the Fir Tree. • There was.no answer. The forlorn figure sat down on n fallen log at the foot of the Fir Tree, hut still there was no answer. "Tell me about It all, Christmas,’’ In vited the Fir Tree In a voice vibrant with sympathy. “I have been over the wide world. 1 have knocked at the door of every heart, and no one has opened to me. I am forgotten, and there Is no one who loves me,” he said. "Every heart’/" questioned the Elr Tree Incredulously. “No, but many, many hearts, and they are all alike." he compromised. "1 have been in the home of men and stood ho close to them that I could lay a linger on their naked hearts, but they did not stir at my touch. They looked me squarely in the eye, and these are the things they said to some woman In their homes: ‘Tlon’t break me.’ ‘I shall lie months paying the bills you are making.’ ‘Christmas is a nuisance.’ ‘Confound this custom of giving pres ents anyway!’ "These are the things they said while they looked Into my eyes, and nil the while my hands lay frozen against their hearts. "I went and stood beside the women in many, ninny homes, and they looked through me ns t bough I was not. One beautiful lady 1 think of now in par ticular. Oh. I wanted a place in her heart, and I knocked loud and long, but the door did not open so much as a crack for me to enter. She looked into my eyes and said: ’I wonder what Mrs. Brown paid for that bag sbe gave tile las! year. It looked like n cheat) thing, and I shall not spend much money on her.’ And again, ’It Is awful to just have to make gifts to people you do not cure a thing about.’ "No one loves me, and I cannot live without love, and so l shall die,” sob bed Christmas Spirit to tlu* Fir Tree. “Christmas has come to be just a Mg exchange desk, where people give to those whom they know will give to them and grumble In the giving.” "Come closer.” whispered the Fir Tree. "I have something to tell you. "A woman came to the heart of the wood yesterday," said the Fir Tree, “and with her there was another wo man. " *\Ve must (Ind tin* most perfect tree In all the forest, for none other will do,’ said the first woman. “ ‘Yes.’ said the second woman, ‘for tlu* child has no one to bring Christ mas Spirit to her. no relatives, no friends, no one to cure.’ "They talked on mid on until the story of the little crippled child for whom they were preparing a joyous Christmas came out. She was nothing to them, but she was alone and not like other children. "A party of men were walking through the wood last Sunday,” went on the Fir Tree, for Christmas Spirit had stopped sobbing now and was lis tening intently. "One of these men was telling the others about bis aged father, who worked his lingers almost to the bone in years gone by to give Ills boy an education. Now he is very feeble, al most down the western slope, and his son who will always be Just a little boy to the old man is going back to the little country village to spend a portion of the holidays with him and lift the veil of loneliness from his soul, lie has planned some wonderful sur prises for the lonely old man away back there In the country." ended the Fir Tree. “Oh. has he!" exclaimed Christmas, no longer a forlorn little llgure, but a happy, happy spirit. "1 am going away next week to be decked for the little crippled child," laughed the l'lr Tree when Christmas Spirit stopiH'd mid Ills mad dance of joy. "And 1 am going across the whole world, and 1 shall knock so earnestly at the heart of every human being that no one can fail to open wide the inner doors to Christmas Spirit.” called the little figure of Christmas Joy as he danced away toward the edge of the wood and the cities and towns beyond. Julia Chandler Mails in Buffalo Ex press. Profit and Los* at Christmas. Old Lady What’s the matter with the little boy? Elder Brother—Oh. he’s cryin’cos I’m eutiu’ my Christmas cake an’ won’t give him any. Old Lady—Is hts own cake finished, then? Elder Brother — Yes. an’ he cried while I was eatiu’ tlrnt too. Collecting on Christmas Told by a Drummer A BUNCH of us were putting In Sunday evening swapping yarns of our early days on tlu* road when it came the turn of an accident Insurance special. "The first trip I ever made was when I was n kid of twenty." he said. "I was shipping clerk In an agricultural Implement house hi Brooklyn. I was to make u collection, mid. of all days in the year, 1 was to See the man on Christmas day! “Why then? Well, the chap I was to see was a big farmer up In the hills of Sullivan county, and In* did quite a business in farm Implements among his neighbors. lie hud given the house u bunch of notes running four months and falling due Sept. 1. Every one of them came hack protested. “The junior partner had charge of the collections, and he figured there was just one sure way of nailing the chap, and that was to get to the house Christmas morning. “I don’t remember the name of the village I hud to get off at, hut I do re member It was a mighty cold night when I arrived there. I got away all right in the morning after the hotel man had given me ull sorts of direc tions ubout the wuy to get to John- ston’H place, twelve miles away. "Johnston himself opened it and without waiting for a word from me said: ’Come right in, stranger. Mighty cold morning, ain't it? S’pose you lost your way.’ “I didn't commit myself one way or the other, but accepted his invitation by walking Into the parlor. There was a hunch of children In the room, one a lad of sixteen or so, who was told to put the horse tip. There was a big Christmas tree in the window, all dec orated with slilny ornaments and tin sel. “We chatted for quite awhile until he laid to go to the barn to help Ills men tend the horses. 1 played with the children, and when he got bnck I had the litt lost, girl on my knee and was reading to her. “ ‘Started snowing again,’ Johnston remarked us he stamped his feet on the rag rug outside the parlor door. ‘Din ner'll lie ready In a little while, but I’ll have the wife hurry it up if you have to get it way.’ "I told him 1 couldn’t think of but ting In on the family that way and “YOU'LL TALK NO BUSINESS TO ME TODAY.” that if he'd give me a few minutes I’d like to talk a little business with him. "‘You'll talk no business to me to day,’ he said. ’You’ll have dinner and supper with us and a mighty good bed tonight. You can talk business In the morning.’ " ‘But’— I broke in. " 'There’s no "hut" about it. That's the program, and l‘m boss in this house!' “And let me tell you, boys, I had a bully time! “After breakfast my bost took me into the little office ho had between the parlor and dining room and told me to fire away. “What do you think I said? ‘Mr. Johnston. 1 don't want to talk business at all. I'm going on my way, and I'll come again tomorrow.' •• ‘Don't be afraid. If it's something disagreeable spit It out!’ be said. ‘What’s the question?’ " ’When are you going to take up those notes of Ehrman & Wilson’s? That’s what they sent me up from Brooklyn about. But after the friendly way you and your wife'hnve treated me 1 have nothing more to say. I'm ashamed of my job.' " ‘You're all right, young man,' he remarked, to my astonishment and re lief, ‘1 don’t blame you a bit, and I admire the stand you take. Read some more stories to Nellie out of her book while 1 look after the cattle, and by and by we’ll drive to town, nnd I’ll fix up the notes for you. 1 have been pretty hard up the last few months, but I got In a sum of money a few days ago, and everything Is O. K. now.’ “When we got to the bank he gave me a certified check for the $600 he owed the house nnd a ten dollar bill for myself to buy something for my baby as a present from curly headed Nellie."—New York Tribune. fflic little Christmas The Christmas day was coming; the Christmas eve drew near. The fir trees they were talking low at midnight, cold and clear, And this is what the fir tree said, all in the pale moonilght, “Now, which of ue shall chosen be to grace the holy night?” The tall trees and the goodly tree* raised each a lofty head In glad and secret confidence, though not a word they said, But one, the baby of the band, could not restrain a sigh. “You all will be approved," he said. “But, oh, what chance have I?” THE CHRIRTMAS ANGEL AND SANTA CLADS. “I am so small, so very small, no one will mark or know How thick and green my noedles are, how true my branches grow. Few toys and candle* could I hold, but heart and will are free, And in my heart of hearts I know I am a Christmas tree.’’ The Christmas angel hovered near; he caught the grieving word, And, laughing low, he hurried forth, with love and pity stirred. He sought and found St. Nicholas, the dear old Christmas saint, And in his fatherly, kind ear rehearsed the fir tree’s plaint. Saints are all powerful, we know, so it befell that day That, ax on shoulder, to the grove a woodman took his way. One baby girl he had at home, and he went forth to find A little tree as small as she, just suit ed to his mind. Oh, glad and proud the baby fir, amid its brethren tall, To be thus chosen and singled out, the first among them all! He stretched his fragrant branches; his little heart beat fast; He was a real Christmas tree—he had his wish at last. One large and shining apple, with cheeks of ruddy gold; Six tapers and a tiny doll were all that he could hold. The baby laughed, the baby crowed, to see the tapers bright; The forest baby felt the joy and shared in the delight. And when at last the tapers died and when the baby slept The little fir, in silent night, a patient vigil kept. Though scorched and brown its needles were, it had no heart to grieve. “i have not lived in vain,” he said. “Thank God for Christmas evel" The First Christmas Card. The honor of the Christinas card is ascribed frequently to the late W. C. T. Dobson, an English painter. In December, 1844, a date earlier than that given to any other claim, he was anxious to send some more novel Christmas greeting than that of a let ter to a distant friend, and the idea occurred to him to make a little sketch symbolizing the spirit of the season. The sketch depicted in its center a family party gathered around the Christmas dinner table raising glasses to tiie health of absent friends. Un derneath were the words “A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you,” while on each side was a small er sketch representing an act of be nevolence. Mr. Dobson’s card so pleased its recipient that the following year he designed nnother card, of which he sent lithographed copies to « large eirele of friends. Other artists followed his example, and the circle sending out Christmas cards grew wider and wider until an enterprising printer saw there was money In the business, and within a few years from its birth the Christmas card was to be seen In hundreds of shop windows. THE ORIGIN OF THE YULE LOG T TIE following story of the origin of tho Yule log It Virginia Is told In the Pictorial Review by La Salle Corbell Pickett in nn article dealing with Christmas lu the south in wartime: One time an old black man was sit ting In his little cabin on a mountain side on Christmas eve listening to the cold wind howl over u world of snow and wishing that he had a tire to warm him when be heard the er.v of a little child away out in the cold. The old man hobbled to the door and looked out across the snow, nnd the wind cuine rushing in and made him shiver so thnt his “onllest two teef” chattered with cold. Again the cry eame across the snow, and he wished with all his power of longing that lie could go out and find the unfortunate little one. for the plaintive cry of a little child always goes strnlght to the heart. A third time the cry came, and n miraculous power seemed to fill the old man’s veins. His muscles became tense and strong, nnd lie stepped from the thresh old into the snow, the crutch fulling hack In the cabin. In an instant he was walking over the expanse of frozen snow with an activity he lmd not possessed since he used to “go to camp meetin'.’’ By nnd by he eame to a little child caught In a snow hank. He lifted the child, and ns its little form touched him a new strength came into him, and the small burden seemed to give him wings to speed back to the little cabin. He put the child on the bed, drew the rugged quilt around it and looked about to see If there might he a piece of furniture of which he could make a fire to warm his small guest. At that instant he saw a great log roll across tho threshold nnd into the fireplace. The little child was looking at It with eyes like stars, and they sent gleams of light that kindled the log with'the most brilliant fire the old man had ever seen, and the dingy little room was filled with radiance and warmth that brought a glow to the soul as well as to the body nnd seemed to flood the world with light. As the light wrapped the child in a shining glory he laughed a laugh that was like a song of the heart and float ed up and away. The old man turned his eyes to where the fire burned nud watched the flames leap in opalescent tints over the log forming the shape of a cross in fire. At this point In the narrative Br’er Simon usually became grently excit ed, and bis eyes kindled as he went on In his rich dialect: “De flames er de cross sprend en chase utter one ernudder, a-erawlin’ eu n-creepln’ in en out en around en about, a-skadliu’ hyer eu a-skadlin' dnr; n-lippln’ up higher and higher; firs' a 111 blue blaze would come, den a ynller one, den a bright red one would flare up, en den de blazes would all mingulate dnrsefs tergedder—red en blue eu yaller en white would ull mix wld de kiudleatlon colors er de rainbow, en crackle en crackle en lip higher en bigger en bigger, de crackles a-getten’ louder en louder, eu de blazes gittin’ bigger en bigger.” As the old man watched all this dis play suddenly ami magically appeared a table covered with a Christmas feast such as had never been spread before his eyes, and never again was he hun gry or cold, and never was there a Christmas in old Virginia after that without the Yule log and the Christ mas child to give it light and warmth. 'Tis given out in many a song and story That celebrate our blessed Saviour's birth— On Christmas eve all creatures do him glory, Even the very lowliest ones of earth. ’Tis said that at the dawn of Christ mas morning Dumb animals are given power to speak. The masters of these creatures should take warning Lest they should be accused by things so meek. In lowly stall and manger there aro praises Unto the Christ Child, whom they claim as friend. Each creature his own thankfulness up raises And sings a Christmas carol with out end. My Christmas Tree <5? Charles Dickens I HAVE been looking on this even ing at a merry company of chil dren assembled around that pret ty German toy, a Christmas tree. Being now at home again and alone, the only person in the house awake, my thoughts are drawn back by a fas cination which I do not care to resist to my own childhood. Straight In the middle of the room, cramped in the freedom of its growth by no encircling walls or soon reached ceiling, a shad owy tree arises, and, looking up into the dreamy brightness of its top, for I observe in tills tree the singular prop erty that it nppears to grow down ward toward the earth, I look into my youngest Christmas recollections. All toys at first I find. But upon the branches of the tree, lower down, how thick the books begin to hang—thin books, in themselves at first, but many of them, with deliciously smooth covers of bright red and groen! “A was an archer and shot at a frog.” Of course he was! He was an apple pie also, and there he isl He was a good many things in his time, wus A, and so were most of his friends, except X, who had so little versatility that I never knew him to get beyond Xerxes or Xantippe. But now the very tree itself changes and becomes a beanstalk, the marvel ous beanstalk by which Jack climbed up to the giant's house. Good for Christmas time is the rud dy color of the cloak in which, the tree making a forest of itself for her to trip through with her basket, Little Red Riding Hood comes to me one Christ mas eve to give me information of the cruelty and treachery of that dissem bling wolf who ate her grandmother without making any impression on his appetite nnd then ate her after mak ing that ferocious joke about his teeth. She was my first love. I felt that if I could have married Little Red Rid ing Hood I should have known perfect bliss. But it was not to be, and there was nothing for It but to look for the wolf in the Noah’s ark there nnd put him last In the procession on the table as a monster who was to be degraded. Oh, the wonderful Noah’s ark! It was not found seaworthy when put iti a wnshing tub, nnd the animals were crammed in at the roof nnd needed to have their legs well shaken down be fore they could he got in even there, and then ten to one they began to tum ble out at the door, which was but im perfectly fastened with a wire latch. But what wus that against it? Again a forest nud somebody up in a tree—not Robin Hood, not Valentine, not the Yellow Dwarf; I have passed these and all Mother Bunch’s wonders without mention—but an eastern king with the glittering scimitar and tur ban. It is the setting in of the bright Arabian Nights. Oh, now all common things become uncommon and quite enchanted to met All lamps are most wonderful. All rings are talismans. Common flower pots are full of treasure, with a little earth scattered on the top; trees are fur All Baba to hide iu; beefsteaks are to throw down into the Valley of Dia monds, that the precious stones may stick to them and be carried by the eagles to their nests, whence the trad ers, with loud cries, will scare them. AH the dates imported come from the same tree ns that unlucky one with whose shell the merchant knocked out the eye of the genie's invisible sou. But, hark I The waits are playing, and they break my childish sleep. What images do I associate with the Christmas music as I see them set forth on the Christinas tree! Known before all the others, keeping far apart from all the others, they gather round my little bed—nn angel, speaking to a group of shepherds in a field; some travelers, with eyes uplifted, following a star; n baby in a manger; a child in a spacious temple, talking with great men; a solemn figure, with a mild and beautiful face, raising a dead girl by the hand; again, near a city gate call ing back the son of a widow on his bier to life; a crowd of people looking through the open roof of a chamber where he sits and letting down a slek person on a bed with ropes; the same, in a tempest, walking on the waters; in a ship again, oil n seashore, teach ing a great multitude; again, with a child upon his knee and other children around; again, restoring sight to the blind, speech to the dumb, hearing to the deaf, health to the sick, strength to the lame, knowledge to the ignorant; again, dying upon n cross, watched by The stars on high unite in joyous sing ing, Telling the old, old story, ever new. The bells from every steeple now are ringing Their message on the opalescent blue. “Peace on earth, good will to every na tion!" This is the message all these sounds foretell. Both young and old, all things of his creation, Unite, for God is good and all is well. *11 creatures, high and low, dslight in singing. Both young and old and rich and poor unite In that sweet message which the bells ar* ringing Upon the first fsint beams ef morn ing light. —Amy Smith in Philadelphia Record. armed soldiers, a darkness coming “li the earth beginning to shake and only one voice heard, “Forgive them, for they know not wlmt they do I” Encircled by the social thoughts of Christmas time, still let the benignant figure of my childhood stand unchang ed: In every cheerful irnuge nnd sug gestion that the season brings may the bright star that rested above the poor roof be the star of all the Chris tian world I A moment's pause. O vanishing tree, cf which the lower boughs are dark to me yet. and let me look once more. I know there are blank spaces on thy branches, where eyes that I have loved have shone and smiled, from which they are departed. But far above l see the raiser of the dead girl ani <?>• widow’s son—and God U good! Trxn snu » ■ rwtuisr prescription. It » com- i m STsmao. mix use. i. ixi*. . •• ..