Newspaper Page Text
CONYERS WEEKLY.
VOLUME VI.
CHRISTMAS PR A YER.
IBS
i.
iff Jrfmnf*. inter 5®^,reath 1 Ss?with cameiard wings 'and of cold; gray,
ts&ssr ,wi
(“rt the air was biting cold,
re grasp- « t,s were hasting home
K»eve was everywhere.
b ‘lube 1 love that'Jesu|had
[“-.^catTin’ kinqfthe clouds though in splendor tong time crowds, set,
gjjSftSSrf o? the year
ere°is no space that: can possess
and see,
lomMwhcm bSto^ndhaWlmnd Sen are not found;
King Baaing by the fire-light’s glow,
Id on the streets below.
with sad hearts unreconciled,
Ire lef thinking heaviest of a long-lost hand employ chi d.
Bn can its heard the sound
Isjlvoy all ftwvm'l« mirth and golden joy;
I. hc . a / ts [| ia t mourn oft heavier weigh .
|en hearts that laugh are over-gay.
on the Christmas clicer without
fe lonely couple grazed about,
Lit ftreekitissrush bannering once of childish again to feet, greet
ttudied ease was furnished all abloom
buttlicrichly soft and languid room: glare
I coal-fire’s "Comfort” the tempered air;
bte jo on hung,
the walls great pictures flung;
Btreasures ihmirrors, everywhere were flaw,
1'ieo of stain or
It Ming over what they could saw; explore
felaoethe (irealtli had pleased lingered eye there before.
Eyet, in many a humbler room,
Farmer comfort fought the gloom,
B It Happiness more visits made.
mure at home, and longer stayed.
ii.
I F in the country, near a wood, stood,
little old brown school-house
d waited, while the winter day
pd [file darker from its eyes of gray,
rough door to open wide,
8 noisy youngsters rush outside.
Bile [country came sharply from within
school’s peculiar din;
fn with glad shouts the children strode
rough tar the dim day their winding way
the white hard-beaten road,
where farm-houses cheered the sight,
1 lamps already glimmered bright,
h vroasmmod. unconscious grace,
1 pleasure dancing on each face,
ty brought the presents all to mind
Pen In the they that eve were to receive
P4.fa.nta early morning find.
InfiiusJi Claus,” that famous King
loro, was handled o’er.
1 a... the treasures he might bring.
jlook! iy passed with shouts and faces gay,
la homeless-looking a poor-house on their way
sweet child
P °’i t 11 window gazed and smiled
fee j her too other wistful children g'lad;
poor heart was sad.
| children who. with laughter gay,
I Brcaitv ^ eams e ’en through
|c oMrded presents by °n the each efforts festal day,
■ use who love true
P-Ereard and cherish you,
|> to the winter’s prime
a sweet and joyful time,
K a I Q w»tendar enrolled,
Imn-l ■ Wor dnldron n l a i S '' :1ay who i s mal must ' ked grieve with gold,
K enopresents they receive!
[ft?/ so, e to V1 0 ™ ew each witl > wistful token eye,
I noarts they new,
moan and sigh,
aS 1 our little friendless one,
is^ssESsara own:
when whom th ey tell
ev wnnia ^ ^°l ’ e ^ who to°C believe,
Sl ea f0 reCeiVe -
sweet and kind,
n, '0f iuxur S cou Ple where
U w
tavee Wrttent thenar^t- hLVh'“ e tlK mark ’Y viewed, t? an(1 shrewd;
fi you iong tor yon,
10W.
ar:t GOt, i^f^y- fcn^oftNT V b0 " ‘ t,,e,n all: ali
-
rr' r,t,t longer fiiendh n *le8s aS s/,e bor ne’/
gs*afe*s»a?** ' -s—fiujck'” ,' n, « mourn.
tr
!ti lat Hi,— J the prayer
Npiqxt bfajr ery word>.
flower L-m th|, ra
J”."? on its erli ?v’s hour
f
f trace
Independent in All Things.
CONYERS, ROCKDALE CO.. GA„ JANUARY II, 1884.
The mother yearned the child to press
In all her piteous loveliness,
But would not yet her slumber break,
And said: “ My dar ing shall not wake
Until her prayer we answered see
As well and nearly as may be.”
And soon the sleek swift horses flew
Back where proud presents, rich and r.ew,
Hung in the all lamp-lignt’s brilliant rays,
The eflvy of children’s gaze;
Which, ere another hour had fled.
Hands softly bore, and p’aced before
The little sleeper’s lowly bed.
She woke at last: and, wondering, threw
A swift glance keen upon the scene
That burst upon her startled view.
A vast amazement Ailed her face:
The room was like a fairy place. there;
No toy she wished but it was
Bright presents g ittered everywhere.
No gift her thought had learned to prize
But it was spread before her eyes:
And presents made her young heart glow
Whose very names she did not know.
But look! a man with step of pride,
And a sweet lady by his side »
More beautiful and high of mien
Than any she had ever seen,
Caine, and above her wept and smiled.
And called her their poor long-lost child!
And The Christmas morn rose clear and bright;
through the flashing fields of light.
A band of angels sweet and fair,
It seemed to me, came far to see
That answer to the Christmas prayer.
— Will Carleton. in Harper’s Young People.
ONE CHRISTMAS MORN.
It was twenty years ago, and yet when
the thought springs to my mind I feel
for a moment as if some one had stabbed
me.
I was guilty without crime. Doing
only as millions of others have done, 1
laid up a burden thousand of guilt times which has
humbled me a in the
presence of men.
It was Christmas eve, and the city
was in excitement. It seemed as if
every human being in the big city who
had money to buy with and a friend to
buy for was to contribute to the joy of
the morrow. I had money and a wife
and children. 1 was warmly clad cold and
in the best of health. The bitter
was nothing to me, and those at home
had every comfort.
I halted with the crowd before a that grand I
show-window, and there, so near
could have pulled her rags, was one of
of my victims. She was a woman
fifty, gaunt, pinched, had ragged, the look and of great
black eyes which some
hunted animal. I saw all this at a
glance an 1 turned away. What was it
to me whether she wore silk or rags?
Why should I care whether she was
penniless or had plenty? Was it my
business to ask whether she had food
and fire—whether she was wife or
widow—whether children waited for
her in some wretched room, Or whether
she lived alone and had money hoarded
up. wouldn’t have asked. Not
You one
man in ten thousand would have cared.
What is one poor old woman more or
less to the crowds who surged up and
down the busy streets of a busy city ?
I was going home with presents for
all—with bright anticipations — with
gratitude in my heart that I had some
one to love, when that woman met me
face to face. Snowflakes were falling
on the old shawl covering her head, and
the face which hunger had pinched Her was
pinched again with the coll,
great, fear-haunted eyes looked square¬
ly into mine as she held out her hand.
She did not speak. That bare arm—
the skeleton lingers—the rags were
enough. Then I committed foul crime. I did
a
not strike her, nor brush her aside, nor
curse her. I re :d her poverty and her
suffering ’in a singlegglance, and I
turned away and passed on. She was
a beggar. Perhaps she was a drunkard
well. How did I know that she had
not been released from the work-house
that very aftern o:i? If she was old and
poor and friendless her place was in the
poor-house. '
I looked back over my shoulder anci
there she stood, hand outstretched tow
ards me as if she were praying to God
to soften my heart and bring me back,
and had faith tlia< he would answer her
prayer, I did halt; 1 felt stab, but
But not a accusing
I conquered it, and said to my
conscience: “Be still! you might give
even” dollar you possess to the poor,
and would receive thanks! ”
you no
That nioht. when all the little stock
ino-s had been filled, and wife and I had
expressed our the”good gratitude for the blessings
of life and health which had
been ours for years, I slept to dream. I
dreamed of the gaunt woman who had
asked for alms. I dreamed of a hovel
in which there was neither food nor
j ' fol
lire nor ], un]) i dreamed that I
lowed her home and heard moans and
sobs and prayers as I listened at the
door J tried to open it but ’ it
would not yield. I tried to cry out that
I had come to help her. but the words
would not come. I wanted to give her
monev and tell her that I had mis
iudo-, d her and would help to make it a
hamiv Christmas by sending food and
fuel but while I struo-Med to wretched speak a
j form stole past me into the
abode and whispered: late!
| “ It is too morning dawned I c ,, *
When the and walked the
| not rest. I hurried out
streets, scanning every face and t
^t h m74S ,HSt co°Sd nol fisher 1
I
Then I left the streets and journeyed
through pale alleys where I had seen the
laces of the poor peering through
shattered panes. By and by I came to
a time-beaten, desolate-looking hovel
half buried under the snow. Frost cov
eredthe panes and snow had drifted
over the doorstep. I looked for smoke
from the chimney, but none came forth,
I listened for sounds of human voices,
but I listened in vain.
Then I felt myself a criminal, and
trembled as if the law had laid its hand
upon me. I would have run away, but
some strange power prevented and
urged me nearer. I knocked at the
door. No answer. I tapped on the
window. All was silent.
Then I opened the door and stepped
in. I had committed murder, and like
other murderers had been drawn .back
to the scene bv some strange fascina
ton. In a chair—the only one in the
hovel-sat the woman who had held out
her hand to me. Her face was held in
her hands, and she seemed to have
shriveled up. On the bed—on the rags
and straw -covered with rags and
locked in each other’s arms, were the
children—a girl of nine and a bov of
twelve. On the wall near by were two
stockings—faded hung and Santa ragged and worn,
but there for Claus.
The stockings were empty. I touched
the woman and called: “Good-morn
ing!” but. she did not move. and
I bent over the children shouted:
“Merry Christmas!” but they did not
awake.
They were dead! In my dream I had
seen a" specter pass me - and enter. It
was the specter of and death. despair Hunger and
cpld and sickness had in
vited him in.
• And I—where is my defense? I
could have given, and I did net. One
single coin would have given them
bread that night. The hundredth part
of the contents of my purse would have
lighted and warmed and fed them and
placed tokens of a mother’s love in the
ragged Til stockings. It
at was my crime. accuses me
by day and I comes to and rue in my but dreams that
by voice night. give whispering: give, “It is
is ever ° too
late!”
A Patent Ear-Coupler.
There will never come a time when
the head-quarter office of a railroad line
will not receive at least one visit per
week from the man with a patent car
coupler. During the last fifteen years
} ie ] ias called about four times a week,
an R that average is being maintained in
a way to wear out hall carpets as fast as
manufacturers can des re. The car
couplers are not all alike, but the in
ventors are. The programme is as
regular as if it had been adopted by a
large majority. The inventor asks for
the President of the road and is shown
to the office:
“Good morning. Is the President
in?”
“No, sir: he won’t be in until after
dinner. Anything special, special?” I have
“Well, rather
vented--”
“Ah! A patent car-coupler! Superintend- You
must go to the General
ent.”
“It’s the of.”” b’ggest thing of the kind
ever heard
“Yes, I know, but hall.” you’ll find him
four doors down the
The inventor opens the fourth door
an j a clerk inquires: business?”
“ What is your
“Well, I had a lame foot last summer
an( j couldn’t do much of any work, and
g0 j ab out it and--”
“Invented a car-coupler, of course!
q’ be General Superintendent is not in.
p ne third door to the left for the as
sistant.”
The third door opens to reveal an at
ten dan t ready to inquire what is
wanted:
“Well, being I had got to come to
town to buy myself some hickory shirt
in?. I thought I might as well bring
]ong "
a
“Yourpatent car-coupler. We were
expecting you. Go down to the yard
master. ’
“Everybody in our town says this _ is
the biggest thing ever invented, and I
reckon---” down the
“Right this way to go to
yard-master’s office.”
The yard-master isn’t in. The train
dispatcher 0 wbn’t listen. The gate
deeper j ias no time. The depot
man niav ) 0 ,>b a t the invention some
ot j, er day. When he entered under the his depot
w j t h that patent coupler let the Michi- arm
hjs m : n d was made up to
tr>U) Central or Lake Shore put it on
fheir ^ cars for fifty thousand done dollars the busi- cash
oxvn . Two hours have
ness f or i,j m , and as he stars up under town j
the COU ( pl e r is recklessly thrown and in
a geat a the waiting-room the
ven tor hopes from the tops of his boots
that somebody will st al it before he
„ ets back.- Detroit Free Press.
=
-
___Wili am Hughes affirmed as he
Philadelphia / that he stole
eash box {or which Will- ,
j Willoughby .W had served ^ four years « j
* prison
Christmas and Its Clifts.
question It is a delicate of Christ matter mas-gifts to speak made on wit the h
money belonging to others, and there
111 a ,Y ' ,e some who would exclaim
against any strictures being made in the
matter at all. . The custom of bestow
mg gifts, tokens this of hallowed love and of reinem
brance, on most all an
niversaries, is a very pretty one, and it
w not the purpose here to argue its dis
continuance. But, while the usage is
beautiful and commendable, it has come
t° be greatly abused and perverted,
The simplicity of early days has long
since been greatly lost sight of, and the
sweet, simple significance that attached Starting
to presents is no longer there.
as » children’s holiday, to bo kept in
remembrance of the birth at Bethlehem,
it was eminently proper that the little
ones should receive some memento that
would serve pleasantly to recall it in
after days, and always with some
marvelous thought of the Christ-child day. and His
liie and love. The as a
day especially set apart observed for juvenile en
joyment, was first in the
Rhine, Southern where German States and along But the
it yet prevails. even
there the Christ Kindlein (corrupted
n °w into Kris Knngle) has given way
to Santa Klaus and St. Nicholas, and
the original largely significance of the celebra
tion is lost.
It is easy to see how, from giving
simple the presents to the younger members
of family, the custom spread to
those older, and over whom the delu
sions of childhood no longer held sway,
The intent of the holiday lost, the pur
pose of Christmas gifts went with it.
Instead of serving as mementoes of the
day, they were intended to' recall the
donor, and, as a natural consequence,
extravagant notions soon prevailed,
Time was when a kerchief for a lady’s
neck or a bow was enough, and if be
hind it the recipient saw, or thought
she saw, a sentiment that the donor
dared not put into words, the trinket
was treasured with jealous care, and
both demof were pearls as happy had passed as though them, a dia
between
But the Kerch ef and bit of ribbon will
no longer suffice. My lady would scorn
such flippery, while my lord would dis¬
dain to tender them, though both of
them know well enough that his limited
means will honestly guarantee nothing
extravagant. The tender must be of
gold necklace, and precious stones now; a
or watch, a fine ring or
bracelets, a jewel case liberally
filled, or other offering equally expen¬
sive. Aping the rich, and even surpass
ing the sensible rich, the salaried man
and the young man of fashion, whose
ingenuity himself, is taxed to find means to
clothe is compelled to go far
beyond his ability to pay. hundreds It is alto¬ and
gether thousands safe of to say that will made this
presents be
season that will never be paid for, or
paid for with money rightfully belong¬
ing to others. Numberless ladies and
gentlemen, too rich, proud will to admit rich gifts. that
they are not make
The tions day will with not sanction all its hallowed such gifts, assoeia- and it
were far better that the knot of ribbon
and the pretty scarf, paid for, he sub¬
stituted for the jewels and laces dis
honorably acquired. little No man who paying, owes
another, with prospect of
has any Christmas right to make expensive other time. pres
ents on or at any
No self-respecting gift, and person conscientiously can receive
such a no one
honest will make it. A debt paid on
Christmas is a thousand-fold better than
one contracted on tLat any.—Indian
apolis Journal.
She Knew Him by His Broken Toe.
There came to Boston last week a
gentleman from California, who was
paying his native State of Massa
chnsetts a visit, after an absence of
over thirty-four years. He was one of
those who, iu 1849, went out to the land
Q f gold to seek his fortune. He was on
ly nineteen years of age at the time of
b > s departure, and, like many other
youngsters who have gone out into the
world, soon got weaned of home ceased long
i n g S . His folks, after a time, to
get tidings from him, and for the past
twenty years he had been thought to be
dead by his relatives. He came to
Boston and sought out his relatives,
and fouud some of them; but none of
them recognized in the man of fifty
three years the youth of nineteen,
Among others who were not quite sat
isfied with h s identity Highlands. was an “If aunt,
who I ves in the you
are.” she sa d, “my nephew, I think
you have a mark on you that will con
vinee me of your identity. When he
was a boy he broke one of the toes of
his right foot. I remember distinctly
how it looked and which toe it was. Ii
you can show me that broken toe, I will
believe you are pulled my nephew.’ the 1 he
gentleman at once off boot
and stocking from his right foot, and
U '” re " as thu broken to e.-Boston Uer
a
- ^ ---
—Passanante, who attempted to kill
King Humbert, of Italy, in 1874, re¬
cently died in the Italian gallejs.
NUMBER 44.
PERSONAL AND LITERARY.
—Patti has $300,000 worth of dia¬
monds, all of them given to her.— N.
Y. Sun.
—John McCarthy has lived for ninety
years in Muncy, Pa., where he was
born. —Pittsburgh Post.
—Swinburne, the poet, will read his
poems in this country at “a dollar a
read. ’ ’ Chicago Herald.
—
Henry Ward Beecher says that hi*
recent trip West and South has made
him fed t n years younger .—Brooklyn
Eagle.
—Miss Rebecca Boone, who died re¬
cently in Norristown, Pa., aged eighty
eight, was a cousin of Abraham Lin¬
coln, and the daughter of a cousin of
the famous Daniel Boone, of Keu
tucky
—It is related by John B. Gough, alone,
the lecturer, that when a boy,
friendless and penniless in New York,
he sold his knife to buy postal-stamps
.and letter paper with which to write to
his parents.
•—The first religious newspaper pub¬
lished in this country was called the
Religious Remembrancer, and the first
pumber was issued September 4, 1813,
by John W. Scott, of sentiment. Philadelphia, and
was Presbyterian in
—The wife of W. II. H. Murray has
returned from Europe with a diploma
from the Vienna Medical College both
as a physician and surgeon, being, her
friends say, the only woman in the Post. coun¬
try with this certificate .—Boston
—Mr. P. T. Barman, the great show¬
man. lectured before the students of the
Bridgeport (Conn.) Business ('ollege re¬
cently, ahd declared that it was the last
lecture he would ever deliver, as he was
feeling the need of quiet in the declining
years of his life .—Hartford Post.
—Cordelia Stoker, of Southern Utah,
attained her hundredth year a few days
ago. She belonged to the Methodist
Church until her ninety-fifth year, when
she embraced Mormonism. She occasion. greeted
fifty She lias grandchildren descendants on in this Utah.— Den¬
214
ver Tribune.
—Mr. M. E. Bell, the new Supervising
Architect of the United States Treasury
Department, was born in Chester Coun¬
ty, Pa., and now lives, with his wife
and five children, in modest style, in
Des Moines, la. He is a boyish-looking active
man, of quiet manners, and is an
member of the Methodist Episcopal
Church .—Chicago Journal.
HUMOROUS.
—What relation does the door-step
bear to the door-mat? It’s a step¬
father .—Detroit Post.
—Alfred O’Donnell asked a St. Louis
court for divorce because Mrs. O’Don¬
nell sung “Wait till the Clouds Roll
By,” and wouldn’t give him any rest.
. —A Batavia (N. Y.) man dislocated
his jaw by yawning. The ladies in the
neighborhood and were in, talking tired. bonnet
to his wife, the man got
—A German dermatologist Yes, gentlemen says that
baldness is catching. that they catch
with bald pates complain
it from all quarters .—Boston Transcript.
—When is a door not a door? When
it is ajar. Oh, no; that answer belongs
to the first decade of the last century.
Nowadays a door is not a door when it
is a negress—an egress. — The Judge.
■—“Why is a ‘young’ lady’s age, after
she readies twenty-live, like a floral
wedding-bell?” asks an outsider. And
he says it is “because it is never tol’d;”
but that is a libel .—Norristown Herald.
—Somewhat to himself: “Can you
tell me,” asked a Cortland man of his
tailor, how you came to get this coat so
tight?” “Oh, yes, sir. The fact is,
you were tight when I measured you.”
—Marathon Independent.
—“Johnnie, did any one have the
croup in your house last night?”
“Dunno! What made you ax me?”
“ Well, I saw a light in the house long
after midnight.” “Oh! that’s my
sister! She has something down in the
parlor awful late every night, but I
don’t know whether it is the croup or
not.”— YonKer's Gazette.
—An observer says: “Always stand a
wet umbrella with the handle down:
one trial will convince you of the rapid
ity with which it will dra n, and your
umbrella will last longer if dried quick
ly.” We tried that once—tried it in a
barber shop. We are fully convinced
of the rapidity with which it will drain,
and if the present possessor will kindly
advise u- how it is lasting we will
speak at more length of the test.-— The.
Judge.
— The other day a gentleman arriv
ingin Paris at the Lyons Railway Sta
tion got into a cab and told the driver to
take 1dm to the Rue Milton. After a eer
tain time the cab arrived at the Rue
Lord Byron. “What is the number?”
asked the coachman. The gentleman
put his head out of the cab window and
said: “Why, “Ah!” this is not the Rue
Milton!” said the coachman
after a slight pause, “that’s true: I’ve
made a mistake in the poets !”—Le
Clarion.
