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►THE SOUTHERN WORLD, DECEMBER 15, 1882. “ The world, dear child, is a* we take It, and Life, he «ure. is what we make It" TIIE CIIRI.STHA8 TIME. 'The merry Christmas, with Its generous boards, IWflrellt hearths and gifts, and biasing trees, The pleasant voices uttering gentle words. Its genial mirth attuned to sweet accords, Jta holy memories. The fairest season of the passing year,— The merry, merry Christmas time Is here. The sumacs by tile brook have lost tbelr red; The mill-wheel in the Ice stands dumb and stiy, The leaves have fallen and the birds have fled, The flowers we loved In summer, all are dead; And wintry winds blow chill: Yet something makes this dreariness less drear,— The merry, merry Christmas time Is here. Since last the panes were hoar with Christmas frost, Unto our lives some changes have been given: Some of our barks have labored, tempest tossed, Some of us too, have loved, and some have lost, Some found their rest in heaven. So, humanly, we mingle smile and tear, When merry Christmas time Is drawing near. CJItAXDMA’S J,OST POCKET BOOK. A Christ inns Story. She was a queer old lady, was Grandmother Grant; she was not a bit like other grand mothers ; she was short and fat and rosy as a winter apple, with a great deal of snow-white hair set up in a big puiTon top of her head, and eyes as black as buckle berries, always puckered up with smiles or laugh ter. She never would wear a cap. “T can’t be bothered with ’em!’’ she said: and when Amelia Rut ledge, who was determined her grandma should, as she said, “look half-way decent,” made her two beautiful little mob caps, soft and fluffy, and each with a big satin bow, one lavender and one white, put on to show where the front was, Grandma never put them on right; the bow was over one ear or behind, or the cap itself was awry, and in the end she pulled them off and stuck them on a china jar in the parlor, or a tin canister j>n the kitchen .shelf, ami^ieft them there till flies and dust ruined them. “Amelia’s as obstinate as a pig I" said the old lady: “she would have me to wear ’em and I wouldn’t!" That was all, but it was enough ; not a grandchild ever made her another cap. Moreover Grand mother Gruut always dressed in one fashion; she hud a calico dress for morning and a black silk for the afternoon, made with an old-fashioued surplice waist, with a thick ruff about her throat; she sometimes tied a large white aprou on, but only when she went into the kitchen ; and she wore a pocket as big as three of yours, Matilda, tied on underneuth and reached through a slit in her gown. Therein she kept her keys, her smelling bot tle, her pocket-book, her hand kerchief and her spectacles, a bit of flag-root and some liquorice stick. 1 mean when 1 say this, that all these things belonged to hey pocket, and she meant to keep them there; but it was one peculiarity of the dear old lady, that she always lost her necessary .conveniences, and lost them .every day. “ Maria V” she would call out to her daugh ter In the next room, “have you seen my spectacles ?" » “ No, mother; when did you have them ?” “Five minutes ago, darning Harry’s stockings; but never mind, there’s another pair in the basket.” In half an hour when Gerty came into her room for something she needed, Grand mother would say : “Gerty, do look on the floor and see if my specs lie anywhere around.” Gerty couldn’t And them, and then Grand ma would say: “ Probably they dropped out on the grass under the window, you can see when you go down ; but give me my gold pair out of my upper drawer." And when Mrs. Maria went to call her mother down to dinner she would find her hunting all about the room, turning her cushions over, peering Into the wood-basket, shaking out the silk quilt, and say, “ What Is it you want, mother?” “ My specs, dear. I can’t And one pair." “ But there are three on your head now!” and Grandma would sit down and laugh till she shook all over, as if it were the best joke in the world to push your spectacles up over tbe short white curls on your forehead, one pair after another, and forget all about them. She mislaid her handkerchief still oftener. Gerty would sometimes pick up six of these useful articles in one day where the old lady dropped them as she went about the house; but the most troublesome of ail her habits was a way she had of putting her pocket- book in some queer place every night, or if ever she left hdme in the day-time, and then utterly forgetting where she had secreted it from the burglars or thieves she had all her life expected. The house she lived in was her own, but Doctor White who had married her daugh ter Maria, rented it of her, and the rent paid her board; she had a thousand dollars a year beside, half of which she reserved for her dress and her charities, keeping the other half for her Christmas gifts to her children and grandchildren, There were ten of these last, and the ten always needed something. Gerty White, the Doctor’s daughter, was the drawer when she was called down stairs to see a poor woman who bad come begging for some clothes for her husband. “ Come right up stairs, Mrs. Slack,” said Grandma. “ I don’t have many applications for men’s things, so I guess there’s a coat of Mr. Grant’s put away in the camphor chest, and maybe a vest or so ; you sit right down by my fire whilst I go up to the garret and look." It took Grandma some time to find the clothes under all the shawls and blankets in the chest, and when she had given them to Mrs. Slack she had to hurry to the station with her daughter, and the cars being on the track they did not stop to get tickets, but were barely In time to find seats when the train rolled off. The conductor came round in a few minutes and Grandma puther band in her pocket, suddenly turned pale, opened herjbig satchel and turned out all its con tents, stood up and shook her dress, looked on tbe floor, and when Mrs. White said in amazement, “ What it the matter mother?” she answered curtly, “ I’ve lost my pocket- book.” “ Was it in your pocket ?” asked Maria. “ Yes; at lest I s'pose so: I certainly took it out of my drawer, fori noticed how heavy 'twas; that new cashier gave me gold for most of it, you see.” KUIY'S SAFE REFUGE. twelve years old; she had three brothers: Tom, John, and Harry, all older than she was. Mrs. Rutledge, who had been Annie Grant, was a widow with three daughters— Sylvia, Amelia and Anne, these latter two now out in society and always glad of new dresses, gloves, bonnets, ribbons, lace and tbe thousand small fineries girls never have to their full satisfaction. Thero were Thom as Grant’s two girls of thirteen and fifteen, Rosamond and Kate, and his little boy Hal, crippled in babyhood so that he must al ways go on crutches, but as bright and happy as Grandma herself, and her prime favorite. Now it was Grandma’s way to draw her money out of the bank two weeks before Christmas, and go into Boston with Mrs. White to buy all the things she had previ ously thought over for these ten and their parents; and one winter she had made her self all ready to take the ten-o’clock train, and had Just taken her pocket-book out of “ You’d have known then if you dropped it on the way, mother." “ I should think so: any way, I can’t go to Boston without itl we may as well stop at the next station and go back." So back they went; asked at the ticket office if any such thing had been picked up on the platform, and leaving a description of it,went rather forlornly back to the house. Here a terrible upturning of everything took place; drawers were emptied, cupboards were ransacked, trunks explored, even tbe camphor chest examined to its depths, and everything in it shaken out. “ You don’t suspect Mrs. Slack?” inquired Maria. “Sally Slack I no, indeed. I've known her thirty year, Maria; she’s honest as the day light.” Still Maria thought it best to send for Mrs- Slack and inquired if she had seen it when she was at the house, “Certain, certain 1” answered the good woman. “ I see Mis’ Grant hev it into her hand when she went up charmber; I hedn’t took no notice of it before but she spoke up an’ says she, 1 I’ll go right up now, Mis’ Slack, for I’m in some of a hurry, bein’ that I’m a goin, in the cars to Bosstown for to buy our folkses' Christmas things; so then I took notice ’t she hed a pocket-book into her hand.” This was valuable testimony, and Mrs. Slack’s face of honest concern and sympathy showed her innocence in the matter. Next day there was an advertisement put in the paper, for the family concluded Grandma must have dropped her money in the street going to the station, but the advertisement proved as fruitless as the search, and for once in her life the dear old lady was down cast enough. “ The first time I never gave ’em a thing on Christmas I I do feel real downhearted about it, Maria. There's Annie’s three girls lotted so on their gloves an’ nicknacks for parties this winter, for I was goin' to give them gold pieces so’s they could get what they wanted sort of fresh when they did want it; and poor Gerty’s new cloak 1" “Oh, never mind that, mother. I can sponge and turn and fix over the old one; a plush collar and cuffs will make it all right.” “But there’s the boys. Tom did want that set of tools and a bench for ’em; and I reckoned on seeing Harry’s eyes shine over a real Newfoundland dog. That makes me think; won’t you write to that man in New York ? I’ve changed my mind about the dog. And Jack can’t go to Thomas’s now for vacation; oh dear!” "Don't worry, mother,” said Maria; but Grandma went on. “Kate and Rosy too, they won’t get their seal muffs and caps, and dear little Hal 1 how he will long for the books I promised him. It’s real trying, Maria!” and Grandma wiped a tear from her eyes, a most nnusual symp tom. But it was her way to make the best of things, and she sat down at once to tell Thomas of her loss, and then put it out of her mind as well as she mighF. It spoke well for all those ten grandchildren that they each felt far more sorry for Grandmother Grant’s disappointment than their own, and all resolved to give her a present much nicer and more expensive than ever before, pinching a little on their other gifts to this end; and because they had to spare from their other presents for this laudable pur pose, it was natural enough that not one should tell another what they meant to send her, lest it should seem too extravagant in proportion to what the rest of the family received. Christmas morn ing the arrival began. The stock ing of Grandpa’s which Gerty had insisted on hanging to the knob of Grandma’s door was full, and when she came down to break fast she brought it with her still unsearched, that the family might enjoy her surprise. At the top a square parcel tied with blue ribbon was marked " from Gerty," and proved to be a little velvet porte-monnaie. “ Dear child! how thoughtful!" said Grandma, giving her a kiss, and not observing that the Doctor looked funnily at Mrs. White across the table. The next package bore John’s name and disclosed a pocket-book of Russia leather. “ So usofull” said Grandma, witha twinkle of gratitude in her kind old eyes. Harry emitted a long low whistle, and his eyes shone as the next paper parcel with his name on it showed an honest leather pocket- book with a Bteel clasp. Grandma had to laugh. Doctor White roared, and Tom looked a little rueful as his bundle produced another wallet as like to Harry’s as two peas in a pod. “ Dear boys I” said Grandma, shaking like a liberal bowl of jelly with the laughter she tried to suppress in vain; but it was the boys’ turn to shout as further explorations into the foot of the old blue stocking brought up a lovely seal-skin wallet from their moth er and a volumnlous yellow leather one from the Doctor.