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1837, ->£^gv lUl'^K mothor-lovf niakos all things briBht, When Joy comes with the morn- hiK light. When children gath er round their tree. Thou Christmas Habe, We sing to Thee! When manhood's brows are bent In thought To learn what men of old have taught. When eager hands seek Wisdom's key, Wise Temple Child, Wc learn of Thee! When doubts assail, and perils fright, When, groping blindly in the night. We strive to read life’s mystery, Man of the Mount. We turn to Thee! When shadows of the valley fall. When sin and death the soul appall. One light we through the darkness see— Christ on the cross. We cry to Thee! And when the world shall pass away, And dawns at length the perfect day. In glory shall our souls made free. Thou God enthroned. Then worship Thee! —Tudor Jenks, in Outlook. nmn. “I said 1 was only Santa Claus’ assistant. You see, my lad. there’s so many more children nowadays than there used to be that- the boss had to get outside help Christmas eve, or he’d never be able to finish up his work iu time. So he sends for me an* a few’ others like me—Heaven help us—and we do his distributing for him. I’d just laid these tilings out hero when you surprised me.” Bobbie approached the tn’e. “Oh, isn’t it beautiful!” he cried. ‘ All these things for me! A watch, too just the very thing I wanted.” The man drew back as the boy spoke and, with a queer light in his eye, sat down in one of the chairs suddenly. “Are you tired?” oiskcd Bobbie, leav ing the tree and crossing to Santa Claus’ assistant. The unex|ieeted guest buried his face 1 in his hands, and a great lump rose up in his throat. “There was one oilier," said the as sistant, "but there's nothing for him and—and it's ail my fault. I neglected to look after him.” “And won’t he get anything?" asked Bobbie. “No,” said the assistant, roughly, rising and taking a step tow aid I he t ree. “He can have one of mine,’* cried Bobbie. “Here, take him this. I’ve got plenty, thanks to you.” Hi* handed him one of the treasures beneath tin* tree. The unexpected guest looked at tin* boy for a minute, and then he slowly reached out his hand and took the prof fered toy. *T’I1 see that he gets it,” he said, “and God will bless you for it! Good-bv. lit ■ THE FESTIVAL OF CHILDHOOD. The True Christinas Keeling Must lit; from the Heart mill Itlossoin Into Aets. ( liristmaM is (In* festival of childhood. Whoso would enjoy it truly inu-st bo in In art even as a little child. Its ecstasies arc in self-forgctfulucss in the betterment of others. Its highest cele bration is in helping our neighbors to be happy and thus sharing the happi ness with tliem. There is no happiness comparable to love, and the happiness growsgreater tis the love embraces more of our fellow beings. That is the best Christmas time in which one feels most acutely the actuality of kinship with all the world. It, is the child that is the real democrat for. as Emerson has it, he makes children of all the adults that gather around him. levels them to with our fellows, others forget the If we can make past we may forget our own. If we can but give toothers ! a little of the antidote of kindliness for the poison of the present wt* shall find our own to-day less ho]M*les.s. And the future is formed of tin* spirit thatani- mates to-day. The real feeling of ( hristnias must blossom into acts. That man is a fraud in w hom the Christmas feeling is a theory and not a condition. God help him!—St. Louis Mirror. IIin Ne<*on<l Thought. A lively youngster in Newport had a great desire to become the owner of a goat, so one day shortly before Christ mas tu* called up the chimney register I to apprise Santa Claus of his Wish. Hailing the old gentleman supposed to inhabit these regions, he told his story in these words: “Santa Claus. I want a % ^ T WAS not long after midnight. T h o wee small hours of Christmas > day were just be ginning to arrive, and down in the library, where the tree was sheltering a profuse array of toys, stood an unex pected guest. He was ill clad, unshaven, and his hair looked as though it had never known a comb. In his right hand he carried a dark-lantern, and slung over his left arm was a sock, a com mon jute bag, and he had entered by the window that looked out upon the street. The family had all retired, and for the mast part were asleep. That is why the unexpected guest chose this tiiru* to arrive. Stealthily he crossed the room, and drawing the portieres silently across the broad doorway that opened into the hall he slid back the front of his lantern, and. lighting a match in its flame, he turned on the gas and lit it, so that he might better see the exact character of his surroundings. “Humph!” tie said, as he observed the tree. “Quite a fine lay-out. I don’t know but what, after all, it’s a good thing that parents give their children expensive tilings these days. It’s a great help to our profession. You can’t raise much money on candy balls ami tuppeny dolls, but these silver-plated engines and purses w ith ten-dollar bills in ’em come in handy. Gold sleeve-but tons, too,” he added, as his eyes took in a few further details of the scene before him, “an’ a gold watch as well. This is look.” And then, as he bent over tin* groups of toys and presents of a more expen sive nature intended for Bobbie, his eye glittering with joy at the prospective value of his haul, the heart of the unex pected guest stopped beating for an instant. There was a rustling sound behind him. With a quick movement he slid the cover of the dark-lantern to, by mere force of habit; but it was unavailing: the room was still lighted, though dimly. “Curse the gas!" he muttered, as he turned. “Hullo!” said a soft little voice from behind the portieres, and at the same moment the curtains were parted and there stood Bobbie, clad in his night gown. “Is that you. Santa Claus?" he added, peering curiously at the unex pected guest. The man gave a short laugh. “That’s the first time I’ve been taken * -• >* & \Si‘ I m. tatnaSif! -L "IS THAT YOU. SANTA CLAUS?” for anyone that’s half docent,” he said to himself; and then he answered, in a whisper loud enough for Bobbie to hear: “Well, not exactly, sonny I’m only his assistant." “Ilia what?" said Bobbie. “fih! Not so loud, my boy—■you’ll wake the family; and if yo*i did Mint. I’d Inst vanish like the mist,” said the jit .JN.ilv ” 1 . •* 'J U lilmim m'K K ■ ^ * MHN IT 111 I V ■Sift-;,,-, n!«l . * I ; . •• r 1 i i. VH HPr djj* “(ni . .!. i ""fliWlHHi 1 &M.*l.. .«.si hii L*.y r •lli!*'*||P‘ llNici III 'loti 11 * ’ 'jihb. ' m’ hi '• m: ' ' "i' 1 • » -Hr'« i!i|l!lii.ii '’‘’rM'k!. ■ M MHIMt * .,i iptul'.r.a ^ .1" *■• ■""fnw"*isataf* W. 1 .•!. H. M . ; i, i' •• ; slj'jj-’' •••*' Ttl Hiiu ■NINNUMi ■'iiHfli* •aH’j' ''•■•Mgn'ilt. nR#*; ■■'illriM I* • n 1,^1 r i. |i,. ... ■.. ■ 1,'nl. i* f urji ..Hi"' Jut 11 . 'f lyi, (. A 1 if j1 / j/: /A iliV*' ■'4 V.! ••mM mrJZ*' Li ^ *• h4 • 1 1 ‘ -|i* ,lr jff / I 1 - $>■ \%\ M' .:!iL I'Jlll'hJ't.' 411 irft- w dd PP “Yes,” said the man. “Very” “I’m sorry,” said Bobbie, affectionate ly, as he took the other’s hand iu his and kissed it. “Don’t—don’t do that,” said the man, huskily. “It’s not—not clean.” “I shouldn’t think it would be,” laughed Bobbie; “climbing in by sooty chimneys can’t be very dean work. Do you know, I always wonder why there’s never any soot left on the toys.” “Oh, we take care of that,” sold the assistant. “You sec, this bag keeps the soot off. But 1 didn’t come by the chim ney this time,” he added, hastily, ob serving that there was no soot on the bag either. "I thought the window was easier.” “You’re all through, aren’t you?" said Bobbie, looking at the bog. “How do you know that?” asked the man. “Your bag i empty. Isn’t then* any one else for you to take a toy to?” tie one. I must be off, or he’ll wake up and be disap|>ointed.” He moved toward the door, when Bobbie ran after him, and holding up his little face, said: “Won’t you take a kiss for Santa Claus for me?” “That I will,” said the other, and he bent over, and kissing the child, fled precipitately out through the window, and disappeared in the darkness of the street. “Well,” said the unexpected guest the following morning, as he watched his own pallid-faeed little youngster play ing with the first Christmas present he’d ever known, “that was the rummiest thing. I went out to steal, and the only thing I bagged (that was really given to me) was a kiss, and I'll see SantaCInun in hades before I give him that. It was a rich haul. tnit«I think I’ll get a de- center jol)—at New Year’s.”—John Ken drick Bangs, in Harper's Magazine. his own simplicity. The man who has the child heart is the man whose in terest in himself is most merged into interest for his fellow creatures. Though one may have felt sin and shame and sorrow he many assuage them all in the promotion of the happiness of others. Love is the only anodyne, and giving it out it returns upon us as mani fold os the object* upon which it is bestowed. That man who awakens the Christmas spirit in the hearts about him will find it subtly stealing tram them to his own, and will, almost unknowing, find bitter dispossessed by sweet, and warmth usurping cold therein. Th>s world is verj fair and charity makes it all the fairer when its glow reminds us of “the long, tong night that death shall last.” Christmas feeling makes the most of the now. It atom's for the after—the deluge or the dark. It is real life to live, if but for a week, a day, a moment, in full sympathy of helping goat. Send me a goat for Christmas." Now, it happened that the boy’s father was in the room above, and, hearing the appeal, sent back the answer down the chimney: "You can’t have a goat.” The little fellow, not at all frightened at this unexpected reply, was equal to the situation, and he sent back to Santa Claus this defiant response: “Well, then, keep your old goat! I don’t want it, anyhow.”—Golden Days. Christmas Cheer. Fall on, cold snow, from wintry skies, The housetops cover, deck the trees; On wind you’re borne, with mournful sfirhs, Aloft you float o’er drlCIn* seas. You cannot chill our ardor here, ’Tls warmed by love of Christmas cheer. —^Seymour 8. Tlbbuls, In New Bohemian. Cp to Date. Goodness gracious! What isthat ter rible sound of smashing ehint'?” "1 suppose the folding-bed k'. turning over a new leaf.”—Chicago Record. II BEK minutes to twelve, and the year 11 as only thre<* min utes to live. Ah! what would wc give. If the tear That springs to our eyes As he dies Could recall us the life, loved so dear. Two minutes to twelve! How the past With its laughter. Its sighs and its pain. Crowds fast through the brain' Stay your flight! Hearken, year, to our prayer Of despair, ’Ere your last breath fades out on the night. One minute to twelve! To my heart Cling closer, my sweet. Let the year On the threshold that’s near Find us true. While together we stand. Hand In hand, And I watch by the window with you. Twelve o’clock! Kiss me, sweet, for tho Past, And again for the time that shall be. What It brings you and me. Who can say? Little matter, so long As no wrong Steal our love from each other away. —Oliver Grey, in Black and White. MOUSE AND MISTLETOE. How a Bad Hoy Spoiled All a Young Woman's Well-Laid Plans. “I shall take the mistletoe down,” said the girl with the blue eyes; “it’s a delusion and a snare." "What on earth is the matter? Did that ugly Mr. Sappie catch you under it and kiss you?” “No; worse yet; nobody did. I put it up yesterday, a great big bunch of it. All day long 1 was wondering what to do with Harvey while Ned is here from Kansas City. But after I put it up an idea struck me.” “Do you want me to go over and let him kiss me under it. so you can quar rel?” asked the girl with the meek eyes. >* “Don’t trouble yourself, my dear. My idea was a great deal better than that. 1 decided to let him kiss me, all una ware. and then get mad over it.” “Good enough. IMd it work?” “It would have, but for an accident. Hecame in the evening with my present —and. oh, girls, it is perfectly lovely; you must come over and see it. It is—” “Yes, yes; we will. But about the mistletoe?” “Well, there was my chance. I thanked him as prettily as I could, drew off the wrapper with screams of delight and ran right under the chande lier to look at it.” “Oh. Nell, you sly thing!” “I heard him creeping up slowlj* be hind me while T was apparently ab sorbed in my admiration of his present. But just as he was about to catch me a horrid •mouse ran across the floor al most at my feet!” “You poor dear! Did you scream?” “I did. More, I ran out into the din ing-room and climbed on the table. Harvey was so disappointed, and so was T. And don’t you think, after all, it was not a real mouse!” “Not a real mouse?” “No: it was a horrid mechanical toy that some one had given my little brother. And, oh. girls, other callers came in then and I hadn’t a moment alone with Harvey to get up a quarrel. Ned arrives at six o’clock this evening: he is coming for the holidays, and what I am to do with both of them on my hands I am sure I don’t know!”—Chica go Tribune. A Kulsc Snlnt. Oh, Santa Claus, you evil saint, T loved you In my childhood's day; But now I have no heart for you, You’ve stolen it away— give to one who wants It not— To drop with jeweled baubles fine. In Edlm’s stocking, where it lies, While hers, is not in mine. —Brooklyn Life. Heforo and After. Now the merry time comes nigh. When the lass, so slick and shy. Will appreciate her papa's weakest joke; And with skillful flattery She will laugh with wildest glee— After Christmas he will And that he 19 broke. —Philadelphia Record. IT PHASED HIM. 'if- r;’ f ffS '*r, - Santa Claus—Here’s a fine piece of business! These children wear Dr. Jaggsley’s combined undergarments, and they have hung up the entire out fit.—Brooklyn Life. Better to Resolve. Though some 'gainst resolutions rail As steps that lead us to a fall, ’Tls better to resolve and fail Than never to resolve at all. —Boston Cosrler. v *i