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VC L V I
A LETTER TO SANTA CLAUS.
Mo’d tike old Santa (law* to «< nd
i A doll dnt dor s to sbi ■>.
K Mo'd Lk<- to 1-..-1 V th' 1-rby t
> -x-*> friend
Ji Mv® me r. woolly sheep.
MEijfljUfflf I®' 1 ®' Mo'd like a house to keep my
n T ? doll
HE' % He'd like tohave a pr< tty j> ”.
-’f *wn/ 'r~- Dnt li.r.glis and talks and
Tr •’*'* •
But v,li< n you v. rite t > him ' >
Bi HV.ro and till hiri. i
act,
Lflggs|Z »Dnt ho ran keep <!< :n all ■' ):<• 1
Will solid a baby brnzzcr.
EAi::.r. IL Eatox.
i=«- -
_GLASS.
A < ir.IIST'.IASBTCIir.
(Copyright, 16O'>, by American Press Associa
tion.]
In Louisville I met old Colonel llablin,
nnil ho urged mo to go home with him.
"My people tire nil off on n visit, and
yon know what, it is for n sociable old
fellow T o be left alone, ” said he. ‘‘And,
by the way, yen may not know it, but.
l- I have one of the most attractive (daces
in Ke .tncky, rambling old house, built
by my grandfather, and all that sort <.f
thing. Wait now before declininx, for
I must mention a stronger inducement,
one that a gentleman can hardly with
stand—mint under umber colored glass
Don’t quite catch that, do you? I’ll ex
plain, and you must pardon mo if 1 ap
pear to rumble a little. In Kentucky
during tbo latter part of the spring, ail
of the Hummer and the first half of the
full, n clodhopper can live almost as
well ns one of the bloods. And why? Be
cause ho can go along the spring branch
and gather mint, cun hang about, a still
house until somebody give.-, him a quart
of liquor to got rid of him, and then all
ho h>w to do is to grab a handful< f
sugar, go away somewhere and live.
But during the off time, when the sharp
teeth of the front has raked the earth, he
can’t get the mint, and therefore can t
live completely. Now, I have suffered
from this incompleteness of living and
have at lust provided against it. i have
a mint hothouse, and more than that,
the sun rays arc mellowed through am
ber glass, and’’— The old gentleman
snatched out a red bandanna handker
chief and wiped his mouth. ‘‘Have you' l ,
no handkerchief?” he asked, noticing
that I had not wiped my mouth. ‘‘V. hat
sort of u man are you getting to bo? But
what do you say? Going with me?”
‘‘l am. ’’
Upon mv shoulder ho affectionately
laid his hand, unsteady with emotion,
pud >-k •; r.itght into my ■ ... h
>aid iJ’Xhftt w Id is g<iimtjgflk>i‘',2g
who Is willing to Worn aside nnd take 1
an interest in mo. why, I gad, it moves '
me, sir. Now I’ll ti ll you what v c*H i
do,” he added taking my arm and urti
ing mo about. We’ll go out there and
have an old fashioned southern Christ
mas. On my place are a number of ne
groes that were born there, and to them
the revival of an old holiday memory
will be—well, I hardly know what, to
call it, but you shall see for yourself.”
We went straightway to the railway
| station, the old man talking incessantly
I of his disappointment at the weakness
of Christinas in the north. I lot him
talk. It. was like the babbling of an old
and dearly remembered stream whose
channel is worn deep and which holds
many a tender recollection, many a rem
iniscent gurgle. I had known him di I
ing many years Once ho was in the
state legislature, and I as a newspaper
correspondent, had reported his speeches.
—TWd him, took the kink out of his sen
tences. imuL him say things to please
bis people, and he warmed toward mo.
' On the train I sat and watched him,
living in the past with him. An old
man’s charm is to live in the past. To
tfi wholly of tho present makes him too
worldly, a lover of money, and a greedy
old man is a blight upon the face of the
ja earth. I sat and looked at this old man,
I thought, of the days when his life
lordly; when dusky hands clapped
at his return from school;
music <>f his hounds aroused
h’ s neighbors; when
-S. >ho led to tho altar the belli' < f
1” a society forever g. ne '.is
been secure.
dusk when we got off a' a sta
A negro who had just lighted a
lantern adjusted it as he came toward
'H-
“COOK, TOC SCOCXDRKL!”
ns. The colonel asked him if he had
brought the buggy or the carriage. “De
Mrriage, Bah.”athe negro answered.
'"We 'lowed dat you van gwine rome
all downy h<>m®Ly yo’ae’f. er. he. lie!’’
The cokm?' iat.&h ed. ‘‘Theold scoun
drel knows nv ”he sijid. ‘‘And you
knew that I’d rcmclfaftk sober, eh? ‘ I
“Oh, yas. sub, e ro’se I ?tr »-
knowd dat yon Won gwine drink dat .
onsartin stuff up yander when you’se
got de best at home alongside o’ mint
dat de sun's shined on through yaller
glass, iff, he, he!”
/•’The scoundrel's working m<- for a
/ diink.” said the colonel ’ »
THE CHATTOOGA iNEWS.
*
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glass. Don’t let that point get away
from you. Listen at ’em down there.
Happiest people on tho face of the earth
—the only real philosophers. Do yen
know what I’ve got for them: Molasses
candy for the. children and eggnog for
the men and women. You know that a
negro has always thougfit that to have
enough eggnog is to catch a glimpse
of heaven. We got up before day and
made a wash kettle full of it. Drink
that. Amber ;i.:ss. I’m afraid that you
arc about to let that point get away
from you. ”
1 assured him that I was not. I told
him that it was really better than the
mint that grew along the branch, and
this pleased him. “Ah,” said he, “I
see that you have not lived too long in
the north. Well, let us go down and
open up. ’ ’
What a day that was ! With a yoke of
steers the negroes drew an enormous
hickory log into the yard, bored auger
holes into it, loaded the holes with
gunpowder and jarred the neighborhood.
They ran foot races; they danced and
sang strange songs. At noon they were
feasted and at evening they took their
departure, some of them wabbling as
they walked.
And now I have come to a mystical
part of this recital. I have never be
lieved in the mysterious, have mildly
hooted at it—practical owl, striving to
deal alone with plain realities—but I
am impelled, even at the risk of being
charged with untruth, to tell of some
thing that occurred during the night
that, followed our noisy merrymaking.
Until late the colonel and I sat in the
parlor, a room which once had been
richly adorned, but which was now
dingy with faded finery. I admit that
we had talked a great deal about the
amber glass. I confess that the old man,
as he sat in a rocking chair opposite me,
! became shadowy ahd uncertain. I ac
; knowledge that I lay down upon an old
horsehair sofa. I "had nothing to say,
■ but the colonel continued to talk. He
I told me that the north, with all its
i wonderful resources, could not set up—
j that was his term —could not set up
. such a Christmas as the one we had just
• seen. Os course mint could be raised
there under amber glass, eggnog could
I be made there, and hickory logs could
| be blown asunder with gunpowder, but
no such a spirit of the past could be in
! voked. I didn't argue with him. I
i cenldu’t.
It must have been about midnight
when the old fellow, getting up and
feeling for > mething which he
d’d not find, turned to me and said:
“I m going into the other room and lie
dew-i. Au idea for the betterment of
my country, sir, has just occurred tn
me. and I must needs go and
feV’a:. | V’4 may gu to y<ur
! you please.”
He way <->ut.
turned re d-MA • VV
W ’ < xv:x o-Uig 1 . •:
have an amber ■ - •
furir.tur- mi,- *
ch r d m t'le c r.
We had now quitted the phtf' rm and
were walking toward the carriage,
which we could see dimly outlined in
the deepening flusk. The negro was in
advance of u=. He turned at the colo
nel’s remark, and I saw his white
teeth gleaning. “Ain’ no use’n er man
tryin ter hide his mind from Mars
Lem,” he said, jolting himself with a
laugh. “Not er bit er use, caze he gwino
read er man’s mind like one deze ycre
books wider lutiier kiver on it. ”
“Goon, you scoundrel!” the colonel
replied. ,
j “ Yas, sah ; dat’s whut I’ze doin. ”
“Anything been going on since I
left"’”
• “No, sah; not much. Sam Purdy an
Jim Bates got inter er squabble, an Sam
stabbed him, an de doctor say he ain’
gwine lib. ”
“That so?”
“Yas, sah, an Miles Parkerwuz flung
be er colt day befo’ yistidy, an da say
dat one o’ his laigs got ter come otf. ”
“You don't tell me?”
“Yas, sab, an ole Miss Nancy Lee
trod on er round stick an fell an broke
I her hip. an da ’low she ain’t gwine git
. well, caze she so old.”
“What!”
“Yas, sah, an Cap’n Bowles sont
: word ter Mr. Hicks dat, ho wr.z cr bar
, face liar, an erbout sunch vn I seed Mr.
Hicks ridin toward de cap'n’s house,- an
| dar’s no tellin whut has happened by
dis time. ”
“Well, you've all had a fine time
i since I left. Hop up there new and
j drive us home. ”
j The next day was the day before
| Christmas, and how dreamily delight
[ ful did I find this old place. I fancied
■ that in every corner a roimtnco was hid
i ing. The loud creak of the old windlass
j at the well was a cry from tho part.
There had been killing frosts, but now
; the air was softened with Indian sum
-1 mer's hazy breath. At early morning
' the colonel took me to see his mint bed.
' The carriage driver hovered near us,
1 i grim, sly, half laughing. “Lock like
, somebody dun spittobacker juice on dat
i glass,” he said, and the old c ' I
1 ’ turned upon him. “If you don’t go on
I away and attend to your own affairs,
1 | I'll take a stick to you. But wait a
minute. You tell the niggers that I’m
I going to give them an old fashioned
’ | fjiiristmas. T r/tem —men, women
arid children— 7*u front of the ’ g
■ji use early in | lining. Do you
'Does I yero?” vwed the «Id r’<|^ —
s b’v. ing almost to
y-'ro? Did M-je-es ycre it than 1- rv. n
h > went ap inter de mountains, eab?
’ , £ d Aaron yore de bells dat wr.z i. <> ter
ly-s gyurments? I reckon I does ysre, an
thanks de
Early the next morning, before the
Hziurer birds began to twiner, 1 bear 1
®io negroes assembling in front.? ifa"
Miouse. Hie invitations had no* been
■•ontiue.)-o the tenants on the ccicDt".
B-laee. be-, had included those v. to iiv. ,•
■ n some of the adjoining farms.
M The eelonel was early astir. He
Bought a julep to my room, and hi:
■-.w it to mo remarked: “Under mb -
JjMMEin'ILLE, CHATTOOGA COUNTY, GEORGIA, hECSMBEK 25 1895
its fee; turned under, as if it would
soften i ( .) weight upon the floor. I must
have d , ze d off to sliep, for I remember
that fw a f e w minutes I knew nothing,
and then, opening my eyes, I was con
scicus of a light in the room, not the
lamplight, for that had gone out; not
merely the moonbeams that fell in at
the window, but a-luminous, hazy fog.
It seemed to float about. Yes; it was
floating, for it crossed the room and
hovered near the harpsichord. I knew
that it had no existence except in my
own fancy, and yet I watched it intent
ly. Suddenly I saw motion, quick, im
pulsive—a low hanging sleeve, white,
lacolike—swept above the keys of the
: old instrument. And then there came a
i soft and thrilling tinkle. Still I knew
: that it was a fancy, but I was afraid to
I move lest I might frighten tho vision
away. The tinkling ceased, and then
; there came the most marvelously beau
tiful air I ever heard, the love song in a
fairy’s opera. In nearly all tunes there
is a memory of other airs, but this
brought up nothing that I had ever
known. It was new in its delicious
i sweetness. Over and over again it was
I played, and I lay there with my eyes
wide open, entranced. There was a sud
den darkening of tho room, and tho mu
sic was hushed. I arose, and, walking !
up and down, whistled the tune. I went
to the old man’s door, still whistling it, !
and tapped to arouse him, but his snor- I
ing was the only answer I received, so 1
I went back to the sofa and lay down, i
the tune still running, like a sun reflect- I
ing rivulet, through my head. I dropped
to sleep and awoke with a jump. The
sun was shining. The tunc! I strove to
whistle it. Not a bar of it came to me.
Then it must all have been a dream,
and I was willing to let it goes a sweet
nightmare, but at breakfast the negro
that waited on the table asked me if I
did not try to wake the colonel during
the night; said that ho thought he heard
me tapping on his do r. Then it was I
not a dream.
I said nothing to the old man about
the vision, but all day I strove to catch
that tune. It wouldn’t come. And yet
I felt it, heard it ’ .miming deep within
myself. And t! - , .t was day after day.
I have had a sirup:- tune to rule me, but
at last I could -igi.t it off, whistle it to
dullness, and then throw it away, but
this mystical ;. ; r mastered me>—won!:!
not'let mew it—nestled in my
THERE CAME A SOFT AND THRILLING TINKLE,
heart and hummed softly. But the hum
ming gradually grew less, and one day
it ceased. And then I wished for it back
again. I had lost something.
Another Christmas was approaching,
and I wrote to the colonel, telling him
that he might look for me. “I don’t
want any old time hurrah,” I said in
my letter, “but I do want to sleep
on that old horsehair sofa ono more
Christmas night. ”
The old gentleman’s answer was full
of blotted exclamations. His people
were off again, he said, and ho swore
that he was on the point of writing to
me when he received my letter.
I arrived Christmas morning. The
weather was cold, and we did. not walk
about the place, but sat down in the old
parlor. Nothing had been disturbed.
There was the harpsichord and the sofa.
I waited for the colonel to parade the
virtues of amber glass, but on this sub
ject he was silent. I took out my pipe
and lighted it. .Suddenly the old man
became nervous.
“You don’t object to smoking at this
late day, do you?”
“Oh, no, for I smoke myself, but if
it’s just the same to you, won’t you try
one of my clay pipes? That amber on !
I your stem sorter riles my stomach. You
remember that m.nt bed. Well, it was
all right, but I don’t want any more :
! amber glass. My dear boy, there’s noth
’ ing that makes a man sicker than too
much of a good thing. And that was a
good thing, but’ —here tho old man
K ;l Sg-d—“but I don’t want any more.
I’ll get you a clay pipe.”
Wo sat up until nearly midnight, and
then the colonel went to his room. I
lay down on the sofa. It was a long
time before I went to sleep, but I dozed
off at last, and with a sensation of de
light J awoke. The tune was tinkling
on the harpsichord. I raised up and
gazed at the instrument. I could see no
| vision, but the marvelous air was as
| beautiful and as distinct as it had been
the year before. I listened until it
ceased, and then, whistling the tune, I
ran to the colonel’s room and aroused
him.
“What!” he cried, opening the door.
“Where did you hear that? It was my
mother’s tune—she composed it, never
had it written down and never played
it except on Christmas night. ”
I told him of the vision, and he lis
tened, with the tears rolling down his
cheeks. “It’s wonderful,” he said. “I
have often wished that I could hum
i that tune, but I have no ear for music.
There’s a music teacher not far from
here, and early in the morning we’ll go
over and have him take it down.”
i We talked a long lime, and I whis
tled the tune over and over. And I lay i
down with it strong and clear in my :
mind, but when I awoke it was gone, i
nor have I since then been able to recall i
it. But I have made my arrangements to i
catch it next Christmas lam going to
' install a musician in*the old house, so j
that I may give him the notes before !
i daylight drives them away.
Ofie Head.
CHRISTMAS IN THE ARMY.
General Thomas J. Brady Passed Four of
Them at the Front.
I
COKfc
HRLSTMAS in the army
' ■ Jf<..— ‘ jhJ during the war ! Four
found me
at the front, but all of
them except the first
T”' were much like auy other
day. Notwithstanding I
and many of the men of
my company—for my rank was then
only that of captain—had been in the
service since the firing on of Fort Sum
ter, having served out a three months’
term in McClellan’s West Virginia
campaign and then re-enlisted for three
years, or “during the war, “Dec. 25,
1861. wax the first Christmas to find us
in camp, with the enemy not far away.
My regiment was a part of Jeff C.
Davis’ division and had gone into win
ter quarters at Otterville, Mo. In De
cember it was learned that large bodies
of recruits for Price’s army were on
their way from northern and western
Missouri trying to reach him by Christ
mas, and that Price had sent a force
from his army to act as their escort.
About the second week in December a
concerted movement was begun which
had for its object the capture or dis
persal of these Confederate bodies. It
was successful. I know the command I
I to which I was attached made a forced |
march of 35 miles one cold December
day through freezing and frozen slush
and mud. So tired were we that when ,
we finally went into camp that night ■
we made our beds on the bare and frez- ’
en ground, without shelter, for we had ,
far outstripped our wagon trains and I
fell asleep instantly and slept all night
as soundly as though we were lying on |
couches of down. When we awoke at ’
daybreak, we found ourselves covered |
with snow that had fallen on us in the ;
night without our being aware of it. ;
The snow was really a good thing, for ;
it helped to keep u warm by excluding
the air.
We got back to Otterville with our
prisoners and captured material of war ,
two or three days before Christmas. The I
war department at Washington and Gen
eral Halleck, commander of the depart
merit of Missouri, regarded the section I
wo were campaigning in as friendly,
and the population really contained a
good many Union men. When the men
went out in small squads to forage, they
carried money with them, and scrupu
lously paid for all they took. True, in
+ be absence of good money they dealt
Highest of all in Leavening Power.—Latest U. S. Gov’t Report 1
RoWi S aki P s ‘
1 vw'Ss Powder
Absolutely pure
out “wildcat” bills on broken banks
l and bank notes 11. at had never been '
I signed, but they wcro cheerfully, oven
[thankfully, received, and I have no
; doubt continued to circulate down there
I till they became worn out.
Soon the men began to show a desire
to enjoy themselves more as they had
been used to do at home than they had
been able to do at any time since they
laid becomo soldiers. While discipline
watt maintained, the relations between
officers and men were cordial and
friendly, and with the holiday season
j every liberty compatible with the safety
; of the command and the performance of
necessary duties was permitted. Small
foraging parties scoured the country
roundabout and gathered up a supply of
chickens, turkeys and pigs wherewith
to eke out the army hard tack and salt
horso. The mails that reached us at
*3
W• V 1
'JI x
GENERAL THOMAS J. BRADY,
tolerably regular intervals contained
many packages from mothers, wives,
sisters and sweethearts. And every
wagon train that reached us from the
nearest railroad terminus brought boxes
from home for both officers and men.
They were tilled with a great array and
assortment of articles supposed to be
necessary for the welfare and comfprt of
the men. In the main these artir les ran
to things to eat, especially cakes, jel
lies and preserves, all homemade and
therefore doubly relished. There were
articles of wearing apparel in every box.
In those days paper collars, some linen
lined, and others nothing but paper,
were in high favor throughout the west.
Nearly every box contained a supply of
them, so that the recipient could present
what the boys called a “Sunday go to
meeting” appearance.
As our communication with St. Louis
was not regular, these boxes did not all
arrive at the same time. They began, in
fact, to come about a week before Christ
mas and continued to come at intervals
for a month afterward. Pretty much ev
erything the boxes contained was, so to
speak, grist for the boys. But when one
young fellow found a feather pillow in
bis box he failed to join in the laugh
his comrades raised and never seemed to
1 relish-being dubbed “Private Pillow.”
Christmas came bright and clear, a
splendid winter day. After the usual
morning routine of a military camp
the r- gimentu were formed, with side
arms only, and marched out to their rc
! spective parade grounds to attend divine
. service and ’Lten to sermons aypropri
i ate to the a time of war. After
: this the men 'Yore dismissed to enjoy
I themselves in tlnirownway—all, that is,
! except those engagedin guard and other
; military duties. They played ball, ran
I foot races, held jumping matches, pitch
) ed horse or mule shoes in lieu of quoits,
i got up mule races and generally dis
! ported themselves like a lot of school
boys out for a holiday. The more quiet
ly disposed read such books and papers
as the camp afforded or wrote letters
home. Some just loafed. Others drew
their tent flaps tight and played cards,
the great American game of draw poker
being the favorite, with grains of corn
for chips. The officers passed the time
| in much the same way, only, as a rule,
j more dignifledly, as became their rank.
The cooks got un the best dinners they
; could, the tables being graced with all
I the dainties and good things that had
I come from the loved and loving ones at
■ home. Men and officers enjoyed this the
! first Christmas in the army for all, and
the last on earth for many, for these
' troops, then so merry, were destined
, within a few weeks to pass through the
, three days’ deadly storm and strife of
Pea Ridge, known to the Confederates
as Elkhorn Tavern, the first pitched bat
tle of the war after Bull Run and the
first considerable victory of Union
' troops in the field. But for that one day
strife and death were far from their
! thoughts.
Such was my first Christmas in the
| army and the only one which made
much impression on me as Christmas.
(/
fcvery man wno prepares" for Cnn.-i- I
mas with the knowledge that his own
children are fed and clothed and can
enjoy the festivity of the season -h> ; .d
mark his gratitude for good fortune
With a convziuution to others
from padsing that holiday in cold and
j hunger
—w———m
A Seiious
A serious accident happenemvm
th©Chattanooga, Rome A ColuiX
bus passenger train which left.
Chattanooga on Friday morning.
1 he train was running at a good
rate of speed when one of the
steam heaters in the front end of
the combination baggage and ex
press car exploded. The iron Hew
in all directions and the end <>f
the car was entirely demolished,
while the trucks were throw n f rom
the track. Considerable trouble
was experienced in replacing the
car on the track ? and trains were
delayed. I’ortunatel v the baggage
master and express messenger
were in the roar end of the car
at the time of the explosion, and
perhaps this saved their lives.
Major C. T. Picton is manager
of the State Hotel, at Denison,
1 exas, w hich the travelling men
say is one of the best hotels in that
section. In speaking of Chamber
lain's Colic, Cholera and Diarrhoea
Remedy Major Picton says: “I
have used it myself and in my
family for several years, and take
pleasure in saying that I consider
it an infallible cure for diarrhoea
and dysentery. I always recom
mend it, and have frequently ad
ministered it to my guests in the
hotel, and n every case ij has
proven itself worthy of unquali
fied endorsement. For sale by all
druggists.
Knights of the Maccabees.
The State Commander writes us
from Lincoln, Neb., as follows:
“After trying other medicines for
what seemed to boa very obstinate
cough in our two children wetri' d
Dr. King’s New Discovery and at
the end of two days the cough en
tirely left them. ‘We will not he
without it hereafter, as our exper
ience proves that it cures when all
other remedies fail.”—Signed F.
W. Stevens State Com.—Why not
give this great medicin? a trial, ; s
it is guaranteed and trial botths
are free at H. 11. Arrington’s Drug
Store. Regular size 50c and sl.ooj
Burglars effected an entrance
into the store of Strickland A. Gra
dy, at Blackshear, blew open the
safe and made away with S2OO in
money and a lot of valuable pa
pers.
When most needed it is n<jl un
usual for your family physician
to bo away from home. Such was
the experience of Mr. .1. Y. Schenck
editor of the Ind, Tor., . Banner,
when his little girl, two years of
age was threatened with a severe
attack of croup. He says: ‘Mv
wife insisted that 1 go for (he doc
tor, but as our family physician
was out of town I purchased a bot
tle of Chamberlain’s Cough Reme
dy, which relieved her immediate
ly. I will not be without it i i the
future.” 25 and 50 cent bottles
for saleby all druggists.
An election for Mayor and council
men for Sumniervile for the ensuimr
twelve months has been ordered by
the present council, the first Thurs
day in January being the day. It i*
now known positively whether two
tickets will be in the field or not.
Awarded
Highest Honors—World’s Fair,
DIV
BAKING
POWER
MOST PERFECT MADE.
A pure Grape Cream of Tartar Powder. Fie
from Ammonia, Alum or any other adulterant
40 YEAko THE STANDARD,
• -
No 44