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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.