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lg wis m:. grist, Proprietor, j Jnlieprntient JamilD ftetospper: Jror tjie ^rffmatian nf % political, jsncial, Agricultural anil Cummercial Interests of t|e ?nnt|. TERMS--$2.50 A YEAR, IN ADVANCE. "VOL. 26. YORKYILLE, S. C., THTJESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 188Q. 3STO. 52. Jin ?rigiual Jfotjr. Written for the Yorkville Enquirer. THE LADY OF LINTON. BY WALTER MORGAN. - CHAPTER V. Lady Hungerford introduced her two guests to oue another. Cyril bowed, blushing, and sat down again, with a strange confusion at his heurt. This woman, with her pale, statuesque face and regal air, was more beautiful than any one he had ever seeu. He could not tell why her beauty should so affect hira; but he could not keep his eyes from her face. They remained there as if drawn to it by a fascination which he was unable to resist. He had the better opportunity for watching her, as, after the first glance that she bestowed upon him in returning his greeting, she scarce ]y once looked toward him again. Indeed, neither of the ladies noticed him for a little . while; for tea being almost immediately brought in, Lady Hungerford devoted herself to the task of making it, and Miriam stood by and rendered some trifling assistance, talking in a low tone as she did so ; so that Cyril, feigning to occupy himself with some engravings that were lying on a table, had full opportunity to study her features unobserved. "Now, Mr. Hope, we are ready for you," cheerfully exclaimed Lady Hungerford, as she drew forward a chair to the cozy little tea-table. "It is one of my freaks to be without attendants at this meal," she continued, while Cyril hastened to assist in placing the chairs. "It's so much more comfortable not to have the servants standing around, and there's really nothing for them to do. Sit here, please, just by me; you can make yourself useful in passing the tea to Lady Hep burn, aud besides, I can see whether you take proper care of yourself or not." The tea passed off very nicely, though Cyril, with that odd bewilderment of feeling which had come over him, could not have told whether he was eating cake or sandwich, and the delicate Souchong in his exquisitely frail Sevres cup might have been the commonest mixture, so entirely was its flavor thrown away upon him. He did his best to talk, however, and succeeded in making a good - ? -1 i_ impression upon nis nostess, wuo was aireuuy predisposed in his favor, and who drew him out to great advantage, which was a faculty she had. Miriam was the most silent of the party, and Lady Huugerfbrd rallied her once od her abstracted air. "My dear, your are very unresponsive," she remarked. "Mr. Hope and I are both doing our best to entertain you with our brilliant conversation, and you don't show the slightest appreciation of our efforts." "I did not know you were exerting your powers solely for my benefit," replied Miriam, with a faint siuile. "At all events, I am not unappreciative; but you know, Lady Hun gerford, I am poor company at all times. 1 have not your conversational gift, and am a better listener than a talker." "And a good listener makes a good element in all society ; but we don't want you to listen all the time, you know. I hrought you here this evening to assist me vu convincing Mr. Hope what a charmiug place he has come to ; for charming people make a charming place, of course. I didn't want to bore him with the presence of the whole parish, on his very first visit. I shall do tha: at a grand dinner some time in the next two weeks. Dinner parties are stupid things; but it is one's duty to give them nevertheless, and I have actually not given one for six whole mouths. I forewarn you both, in advance, not to let anything interfere with your coming to this one." Cyril bowed his thanks. Lady Hepburn flushed slightly, and said in rather a low tone? "You are very kind ; but you know, Lady Huneerford. that I never eo to parties." "But you certainly should, Lady Hepburn. It is not at all fitting that a woman in your position should exclude yourself from the world, and remain shut up like a prisoner in that gloomy ol(Fcastle of a place that you inhabit. Not that I mean any disparagement of the place, for it would be simply magnificent if thrown open and kept in prop- J er style. But there are rooms upon rooms j that you never use. I do believe you keep the doors locked, like Blue Beard's secret j chamber, from one year's end to another, without even the satisfaction of looking into them yourself! Some day I think I'll come ; there and explore. I have a great deal of curiosity in ray composition. Who can tell j whether there may not be something rayste- j rious hidden away from the light within those big stone walls?" A pallid smile quivered over Miriam'9 lips; but Cyril wondered to see that she grew suddenly deathly white, and a strange, scared look seemed to him to come for an instant into her eyes. Only for an instant. So quickly afterward that he fancied he must have only imagined her emotion. She rejoined, in quite a natural tone, and more cheerfully than she had spoken yet? "You are quite welcome to gratify yourself by exploring the Towers at your leisure, Lady Hungerford; but I am afraid you won't make any interesting discoveries to reward you for your trouble." "At any j-ate you'll come to my dinner party ? I am not going to let you off from that. Why, don't you know, if you did your duty you'd be giving dinner parties yourself! It would be only right and proper in you. The Hepburus have never been backward in hospitality." Cyril wondered at her venturing thus openly to cavil at and criticise the conduct of her guest; but he supposed she was only following up her usual eccentric habits. He glanced at Miriam, fearing she must take offence ; but she only sat with a thoughtful look in her beautiful eyes, as if she were reflecting on what had just been said to her, and did not seem offended at all. To tell the truth, she was wondering whether there was not some truth iu Lady Hungerford's remarks. Why should she not begin to go out and receive company, like other people? It would place her in a better position. She had been the subject of comment, on account of her seclusion, too long. "I may come to your dinner, Lady Hungerford," she said, suddenly raising her eyes. "I thank you for your friendly interest in me, at all events. You are always very thoughtt ful and very kind." She spoke in a softened voice, and Cyril was more than ever enchanted by her loveliness, which seemed thus to assume a new phase. Hitherto he had felt her beauty, in spile of the impression it had made upon him, to be a little cold. Now it seemed to warm into a life and freshness which it had lacked. She dropped her reserved air, and spoke more frankly and freely than she had done yet. He listened, and was entranced by the melo dy of her tones. Tea being over, Lady Huugerford rose from the table and rang the bell. "Now we'll have some music," she said, leading the ? * ? TklC UltO f Vl O wujr. ujiu tuc iiCAi o^fliuiivuK. *? ?' music-room?a long, lofty room, admirably adapted t-o its purpose. Two pianos, an up right aud a magnificent grand, stood at one end. Near by was a harp, and music of all sorts was piled up in racks and on the floor. "Lady Hepburn, I have never heard yon sing; but I can tell by your face that you know how," said the hostess, opening the large piano. "I," said Miriam, startled. "I have not sung for ten whole years." "But you can, if you try." "I can not, indeed, Lady Hungerford. It would be absolute folly for me to try." "But you used to sing?" persisted her friend. "Yes, ages ago?when I was a mere child." "You play, then." "Indeed, no. I never did play ryuch ; only ray own accompaniments." "Mr. Hope," said Lady Hungerford, appealing to Cyril, "can't you prevail upon this obstinate lady to gratify us ?"' "I am sure," stammered Cyril, embarrassed, "if Lady Hepburn knew the pleasure it would afford-" "I can not sing, indeed," interrupted Miriam quickly, with an earnestness and decision that put a stop to farther pressing. Lady Hungerford shrugged her shoulders, with a disappointed gesture. " 'And if she won't, she won't, and there's an end on't,' " she quoted. "Well, Mr. Hope, my last resource lies in your good nature. Come, play or sing?which do you do ?" "Neither, on my honor," replied Cyril, smiling. "Rather say your last resource lies in your own powers. With all these instruments at your command, you surely must be mistress of one of them." "In one sense, I am the mistress of them all. In another, I am far from being the mistress of any. I sing, however?after a fashion ; and, of course, I'll give you a specimen of my capabilities if you desire it." She drew the harp toward her, and striking a few preliminary chords, commenced an operatic selection in a rich, strong contralto voice. The performance was good, but lucked expression; her style was brilliant, forcible, but wholly without softness or sympathy. "How do you like that?" she inquired, when she had finished. "It is a fine piece," replied Cyril, a little hesitatingly. Miriam said nothing. "Penaps," continued Lady Hungerford, "being a clergyman, you disapprove of operatic nusic?" "By no means," he quickly rejoined. "I have something here that may please you betier," she remarked, selecting another sheet of music from the stand. With a touch so delictte and sweet that it seemed to come from another hand, she played a simple air, then commenced to sing a plaintive old-fashioned ballad?;& brief story, pathetically told, of love and regret, and a new, holy love springing from the ashes of the old. Cyril's heart, ktealy alive to the influence of true music, was deeply stirred. He listened, as if under a spell, and when the last soft cadence died away, eagerly exclaimed? "Thank you a hundred times ! Lady Hungerford ; that was perfect." She smiled, well pleased. "You have a correct tasr,e," said she. . "I think, myself, that other screaming thing is horrid ; but so many peope prefer a loud, florid style of singing. I never indulge myself in this kind of perfornuuce," pointing to the song she had just suBg, "unless I am alone, or have an appreciitive listener, like yourself. I; don't induce you, my dear," she added, turning to Miritm in an abrupt manner peculiar to herself, "because I haven't discovered yet what your taste is." "It coincides perfectly with yours, Lady : Hungerford. I assure you." | "Good ! Then we are a harmonious party. Now I will play you a favorite souata of j i mine. I doi't generally affect sonatas ; but ] this one ie oit of the usual line?and then, I j think, you will have bad enough of my per- j ! formance for once." She went ti rough the sonata with much , | taste and expression. Then rising abruptly ; and closing tie piauo, asked her guests if. they would like to explore the picture gallery, j Miriam had done so before, and preferred rej maiuiug iu tht little parlor where they had j taken tea, whie Lady Hungerford introduced j Cyril to the portraits of many generations of Hungerfords, looking down iu various atti- : tudes and costBmes from their frames against j the walls of the long gallery devoted to their especial accommodation. Cyril dutifully lis+ rt/1 onri Iron L icucvi oiivo IVUI?U ? IIIIV cm/ pum itu uut Lilt; celebrated ones among them. Here a sterni looking Crusadir who had died in the Holy Laud. Next to him a simpering maid of honor of the ourt of Queen Anne; there a poet, and dose by the favorite of a 1 Prince?warriors and knights and ladies and bards, all of more or less celebrity in the annals of the illustrious house, but in whom the young diviut did uot feel any very keen interest. He wanted to be back in the little parlor, where tie Lady of Linton sat in dreamy solitude, gazing abstractedly out of the window at the moonlight, with vague, I confused thoughts chasing each other through her brain Lad) Hungerford got through j the loug list at last, and having sufficiently I demonstrated the antiquity and importance of her house, went back with Aim to rejoin her friend. "I think it is time for me to go, Lady Hungerford," said Miriam, rising at their entrance. "Will you please order ray carriage?" "Go! Why, my dear, it's very early, I assure you. Don't you want to play a game of cards? Oh I forgot; you don't play cards, and I suppose Mr. Hope does not either. But I can find something else to amuse you, I dare say." "It is not for lack for amusement that I must leave you now," replied Miriam. "I have had a very pleasant evening ; but I assure you it is not early, and you know I have quite a distance to go." "And on Vmvo T" onul Ovril onnsnltinfr *?***? WW ..w,w O his watch. "I have to thank you also, Lady Hungerford, for a delightful evening." "What, you are both resolved not to stay longer? That is too bad; but since you will go, I think, Lady Hepburn, you had better give Mr. Hope a seat in your carriage. It will save him part of a very lonely walk." "I will save him the whole of it, if he will allow me," rejoined Miriam. "Mr. Hope, pray let me put you down at the Rectory. I assure you it is quite in my way." Cyril accepted the offer with scarcely disguised eagerness. Not that he minded the walk, but be found the prospect of a the a the with Lady Hepburn too tempting to resist. The luxurious carriage was brought to the door, and preseutly he found himself rolling easily along through fields and woods silvery with moonlight, listening to the calm tones of his companion as she talked, and thinkiug what a pleasant fate it must be to have one's lines cast amid such places as he was beginning now to get a glimpse of. Not that luxury and wealth had much charm for him in ; themselves ; but associated with this beauti-1 ful Lady Hepburn, they seemed so natural j and fitting that it was almost strange to think ; of doing without them. For instance, he could not imagine her, with her regal beauty, her sorrowful stateliness, set down in a narrow home like his own, where his mother and sisters always seemed so contented. And yet, with all that she possessed, he could see that she was certainly not happy. He longed to catch a glimpse of her inner life ; to read the heart-secrets shrouded beneath the sable folds of her widow's dress. Was her grief for the dead so sacred, so nrofound. as loshun contact with the world, to shun eveu its sympathy, after the lapse of ten long years? He felt a feverish desire to win her confidence, to be admitted to the privilege of her friendship, to gaiu an insight into her true feelings, and, perhaps, pour the balm of consolution on her wounds?ah, that would be happiness indeed ! His heart throbbed and glowed at the very idea ; and yet, what an absurdiiy it was that he should indulge in such dreams ! Thedfe thoughts, mingling with conversation that was only of a commonplace sort, came to an end as the carriage stopped at the gate of the Rectory grounds. "I am so much obliged to you, Lady Hepburn," he said, standing with his hand on the carriage door after he had alighted ; "you have been very kind in fetchiug me home." "Not at all; it had given her pleasure," Miriam told him. Then she added, courteously, that she would be happy to see him at Linton Towers if he would call. "I shall be delighted," Cyril replied. There was nothing more to be said, and he reluctantly bade her good night, and stepped back as the spirited horses, impatient of delay, started off. She had not shaken hands with him?had merely bowed, and he wished that her manner had been a trifle less cold. But how could he expect the acquaintance of one brief eveuing to ripen into friendship, without anything further to develop it? He wished for impossibilities?he longed for, he knew not what. He was excited, pleased, disturbed, all at once. Glimpses of a new, unknown, untried world seemed to have dawned upon him. In some way he had been brought to the threshold of this mysterious region, and stood looking in, seeing only shadowy forms moving iu a mist of unreality and doubt. Was he to enter? And if so, what would he find beyond ? He was young, and had an ardent fancy. He had had his dreams of love, but had never j sought the reality. Was this reality coming : to him now? He went in and found a letter from his mother, which had been brought in with the evening's mail. Loving and kind, full of practical suggestions and pictures of the tranquil home life, it proved a good antidote to his restless and uneasy thoughts. [to be continued.] Discipline.?It cannot be too often repeated that it is not the so-called blessing of life, its sunshine and calm and pleasant experiences that make men, but its rugged experiences, its storms, tempests and trials. Early adversity, especially, is often a blessing in disguise. It has been observed that perhaps Madame Maintenon would never have mounted a throne had not her cradle been 1 rocked in a prison. It is the rough Atlantic seas, the cold, dark winter nights, and thorough "nor'easters" that make the Britain and the American sailors the toughest and most skillful in the world. The school of adversi* j ties graduates the ablest pupils, and the hill of difficulty is the best of all constitutionals for the strengthening of mental backbones. 8ST" The statement of the National Cotton Exchange of New Orleans, issued on the 10th instant, shows that the mills have taken j overland direct 178,009 bales of cotton dur- [ ing the past quarter, against 192,775 hales 1 last year. The total takings of Northern i spinners were 554,355 bales; a gain over the same period of last year of 11,521 bales. The total amount of this year's crop received at ports and shipped from overland points of crossing, is 2,628,914 bales, an increase over last year of 208,835. Canada has taken overland direct 8,731 bales, against 6,928, J last year. ? 86T The successful growing of the coffee plant in South Florida seems to be now established beyond question, and the commissioner of agriculture has awarded the premium offererd some time since for the first pound of coffee grown in the open air. The agricultural bureau furnishes plants already started to those who wish to give coffee a trial, and it is thought that the Florida planters will enter into its cultivation quite extensively next Beason. % piippg GUmstmas. CHRISTMAS IS COMING. BY MARY D. BRINK. "Christmas is coming!" the children cry, Counting the weeks that are hurrying byDear little children who live at home, And do i) jt guess what it is to roam From morn till night, with stockingless feet Up and down, through the ice and sleet. "Christmas iscomlhg!" thinks little Tim, But what can flie Christinas do for him? His home is a cellar, his daily bread The crumbs that remain when the rich are fed ; No mother to kiss bim when day is gone; No place to be glad In under the sun. That wonderlul fellow, old Santa Claus, Who never is idle a moment, because Ho is kept so busy with piling the toys Into the stockings of girls and boys ; .No wonder lie sometimes forgets, you Know, Into the homes of t|te poor to go ! But, dear little children, yon understand That the rich and pOor all ovor the land Have one dear Fatu^r who watches 3'ou, And grieves or smiles at the things you do. And some of his children are poor and sad, And some are always merry and glad. Christmas will bring to you many joysFood and plenty, frolic and toj's ; Christmas to soino bring nothing at all, In place of laughter the tearswill fall, Poor little Tim to j'our door may come? Your blessings arc many; spare him some. The Christmas bells will sweetly ring The song that theangels love to sing, j The Song that came with the Saviour's birth ; "Peace, good will and love on earth !" Dear little children, ring, I pray, Sweet bells in some lonely heart to-day. LOOKING FORTS ANT A GLAUS. A GOOD STORY FOR THE BOYS AND GIRLS. One wiutry day little Mina arose in the morning and found that her mother was not up. This was strange, for the sun was high and his beams fell aslant through the high garret window upon the bare floor. The stove was cold and the coffee pot stood empty on the shelf. Mina laughed at the thought that she had waked before her mother. She slipped on her blue woolen dress, her large checked apron, her knitted stockings, and her thick shoes; and having washed her face, and braided her hair in two tight little pigtails, crept around to her mother's bed, intending to kiss her awake. But her mother's eyes were wide open, her cheeks werq, red, and her hair was tossed about on the pillows. "Oh, my child," she cried, as she saw her little girl, "what shall we do now ? I am ill. I have a fever of some sort. My head is as heavy as if it was made of lead. I am Dot even able to rise, much lees to go about my work. " We shall starve together, you and I, poor, unhappy widow and orphan that we are. "Oh, no, mother," said Mina. "We need not starve. I can make the coffee, and go and buy the bread and sausage." "Child, child !" cried the mother, very soon there will be no mouey to buy anything. I huve felt myself breaking down for a week. I have no hope now. I must send for the doctor, and when he finds I am not able to pay him he will send me to the hospital. You, poor little soul, will soon be motherless as well as fatherless." The poor woman hid her face in the pillow. Mina wept. Tears rin down her cheeks; but she soon went to- the stove, and kindled a fire, and made the coffee, as she had seen her mother do it. "The coffee will do you good, mother," she said. But the poor sick mother was too feverish to taste it. Then indeed, Mina felt that everything was wrong. "Christmas time ! Christmas time !" repeated the poor woman, talking more to herself than to her child ; "and Christmas used to be so happy." At this Mina crept closer to her mother's bed. Yes, in two days Christmas would come. She had looked forward to it so. She had hoped that she would find in her stocking a wax doll with blue eyes, and a candy basket full of sugar plums, at least ; but she should not care for them if her poor mother were so sick. "Child! go to the old doctor?" said the mother. Go tell him to come quickly ! I must be made well if he can doit! Go! Go !" Mina put ou her hood and ran away. The good old German doctor came back with her, and felt his poor country woman's pulse, and wrote a prescription, and patted little Mina on the head, and bade her take care of her mother. But the child took nearly all the small purse contained to pay for the powders he had ordered, and though she watched bv her mother's bed all day, the mother grew " oi._ ... i x- ?r worse, one lay tossing iu auu uu, tui&iug ui the past. "It was Christmas time when I ran away with your father," she said with the quick speech of fever. "My father did not like him, or my mother either.; so we ran away and were married. We came to this country iu a great ship. We were very happy until he died. Mina, do you remember how good he was to us last Christmas ? Ah, only for you, only for leaving you, my little girl, it would seem best for me that I am going to him. "Christmas ! Oh, in Germany, at hoir in Germany, we always had a Christmas tree, and we sat together in the parlor, and the window lifted and St. Nicholas came in. He gave us toys and gifts of all sorts. We were glad, and yet frightened. Our wooden shoes were set in a row on the hearth at night. In each we found some gift. Such a supper! dancing! music! "I wonder whether my old father is dead ; whether my old mother lives; whether they forgive me ?" She wept, but little Mina sat thinking. She thought of Santa Clans?old St. Nicholas, the good Christmas friend of all good children?he who would come down the chimney, or in at the window, with any gift he pleased. Surely, if he was so good to her mother when 6he was a little girl, he would remember her now that she was sick. But how was he to know ? He could, if he pleased, give her mother plenty of money. Of that she felt certain. But how was one i to find him ? "Mother,'' she said, "where does Santa | Claus live ?" The poor mother was fast growing delir- j ious. "What did you ask ?" she said dreamily, j "Where he lives ? Oh, I do not know." "But he could do anything, give anything | he chose?" asked Mina. "Yes," said the feverish woman, "yes? | ? 4?'l b a i/?a n! nn n/\l/l rrllK i yes i LUI1 111 III Hi 41IC IV/C vw 1*J, I tering ice?to cool my head?ice, ice." "Oh, I will get you some ice, mother," said j Mina. "I will go to the grocer's aud get j some." She took a bowl from the closet and a j penny from the old purse, aud ran out of the j room, shutting the door softly behind her. | There was a grocery in the lower part of the house, and she went into it aud up to the : counter. A rosy-faced Dutch boy gave her I the ice, and he looked so good natured that1 she asked him a question. "Do you kuow where Santa Glaus lives?" j she said. The boy srcatched his head. "Yes?he libs in Germany," he said. Mina's heart leaped high. "Biddy?little Biddy Flynn," she called to a child passing the door, "will you take this bowl of ice up to ray mother, and give her some, and stay by her until I come back, I'll only be gone a few moments." Good natured little Biddy took the bowl and ran up stairs, and Mina ran down the streets that she knew led to the river, as fast as her feet could carry her. She bad two j cents in her pocket, and thought that would | pay her fare. A sailor was standing near a fruit stand, i Mina looked up into his round, browu face with confidence. "Mr. Sailor," she said, "will you tell me i which of those ships go to Germany ?" "Why, that one yonder, my little lass," pointing to ouq over which the German flag | floated. But Mina thought he meant the | little ferry-boat that rati to Weehawken. "Thank you," she said, nod flew away. i A L_II . ,.i._ i :?.i I rx. uuii waa jiugiug , auu iiuiiicu jmsb tuc i ferry-house, dropping her two cents into the | hand of the ferry master, and the boat was ! off the next moment. It did not take long to cross the river, and | Mina went on shore and looked about. A j great, good-natured looking man sat smokiug ; his pipe at the door of a shoemaker's shop. Mina went up to him and said softly : "Please, sir, will you tell me where Mr. Santa Claus lives ?" I "Mr, Santa Clans?" said the man, in bro| ken English. "Veil, I do not know?does | he keep show or work at a trade ? You te.l me vot he is, den maybe I remember him." "Don't you know : I thought every one I knew Mr. Santa Claus," said Mina. "He? he makes toys for little children." "So !" said the German! "So. Yas. I know. Go up dis street and aloug to the uext corner, den you see a little gate. Behind dat you find de man dot makes toys for de children." Mina said that she was much obliged. She felt that people were amiable in Germany, and her hopes rose high. She followed her old German's direction and soon came to a high fence. There was a gate in it. She lifted the latch and opened it, and before her was a low, brown house. Softly she crept up to the window. Yes, yes, she had found Santa Claus at last. There, before the fire, sat a little fat old man, with white hair and rosy cheeks, hard at work with a turning lathe. An old woman, as rosy as he was, was gluing pieces of wood together with a brush?toy chairs, tables, bedsteads, wagons, milk-maids, jointed dolls; and at a table sat four little girls painting away at the finished toys with the brightest colors. Oh ! this was delightful, and Santa Glaus and his wife looked so kind ! Mina knocked on the door. Some one cried, "Herein," and she entered. She stood at the threshold and dropped the little courtesy her mother had taught her, and said: ? "Please, Mr. Santa Clau9, I want to speak to you particularly. It is about Christmas." "S6! cried the old gentleman?and truly he was a German?rising. -"But what did you call me,little one?" "Mr. Santa Claus," said Mina. "I've been looking for you all day, and poor mother is so sick. That is why I want to see you. You used to come in at the window on Christmas eve when she lived in Germany, and you always put something in her shoe, and now she cannot earn money because she is sick. I want you to come down the chimney and put enough in her stocking to last until she is well, for father is dead, and we have nobody who cares for us. And you?oh ! you are so good, always going over the roofs on Christmas eve, and giving presents to everybody." "The child thinks you are Santa Claus," whispered the old German woman in her husband's ear. "Oh, how like she is to our little Mina, do you not see ?" "Do you speak German, child?" said the old man. "Yes," said Mina, "it is my mother's language. Yes, I speak it very well." "And what is your name?" asked the old gentleman. "Mina Hoffman, Mr. Santa Claus, if you please," replied Mina. The old woman caught her husband's arm. "Be quiet, be quiet," whispered the old man. "It is a common name." "And how did you think of coming here, my little maiden ?" "Because you were so good," said Min a. "To-day mother cried and told me how pleasant it used to be in Germany ; and oh, Mr. oanta Olaus, you must know where her latner and mother are. She said she ran away from them ; and I know she thought it was very naughty?only what could she do if they wouldn't let father come in ?" "Hans, Hans, it is our daughter?" cried the old woman. "What was the name of your mother's father ?" "It was Ansen, Mrs. Santa Claus," said Mina. The old lady began to cry. She caught the child in her arras and kissed her fondly. "Oh, good Mrs. Santa Claus you will ask Mr. Santa CIuus to help mother, won't you ?" pleaded Mina. But now the old couple took her by the hands and led her away to an inner room, where the old lady rumaged in the drawer of a little bureau and brought out an old-fashioned daguerreotype. "See, child," she said. "Don't this look like any one you know ?" "It looks like mother," cried Mina, "only? only not so old." "It is enough," said the old gentleman. "Child, God has sent you. I am not Santa Claus. I am only an old toy-maker, working here in Weehawken?in a strange country to which I came from my fatherland. But my dear, I am your grandfather, and this is your grandmother. We came to America to look for our daughter when we heard she was a widow, but we could not find her. Now we are going to go and take care of her. We will go with you. And again I say, God sent you." So in a few moments Mina and her grandparents were on their way across the ferry. It was late in the afternoon when they climbed the stairs of the tenement house. Then the old people waited outside in the entry, and Mina went into the poor, half-furnished room and found little Biddy Flynn still waiting patiently. "What happened ye, Mina?" she asked. "The mother has been fretting for you." "Oh ! iny child ! I am nearly frightened to death !" sobbed the poor woman. "Mother!" cried Mina. "Oh, mother! I went to Germany to find Santa Claus?for we never needed him so much. But it was not Germany, and I did not find him ; but?oh, mother?I found grandfather and grandmother!" "Mother! Father!" cried the poor woman ; and the next instant they rushed in and had her in their arms. So Mina had a merry Christmas after all; " ? ? r\ *TA!1 motr Kn onrn tluit ko?? moflmr rrf\t auu juu iajaj uc ouic uian iibi uivviivi gw well, and that Santa Claus did not forget her. ? Christmas Superstition.?The superstitions connected with Christmas are many and full of interest. In reference to it almost | every people, and iudeed every community, have their pet sayings and signs. Stories in connection with birds and beasts are abund ant. Shakespeare, encouraging the idea of the influence in the lower order of auimals, refers to the tradition that at midnight of Christmas Eve, at the crowing of the cock, evil spirits forsake the earth and seek their own places. In a western part of Devonshire, England, I a notion prevails that at twelve o'clock at 1 night on Christmas Eve, the oxen in their stalls are always found upon their knees as if in devotion, while what is more remarkable in the superstition is that since the change of j style they are fouud in kneeling postures only 1 on Christmas Day. An honest countryman, ; living on the edge of St. Stephen's Down, near Launceston, Cornwall, says that he, with some others, once made a trial of the oxen on Christmas Eve, and, watching several in their stalls at the appointed hour, observed the oldest two fall upon their knees and make "a cruel moan like Christians." There is an old picture in which the oxen of the stable are j ! represented in a supplicant position on their I knees, and doubtless this picture originated : , the fabulous story of the honest countrv- j "I Ill 4.1 1J t christmaTcustoms. THK ORIGIN OF CHRISTMAS AS A HOLIDAY. The 25th of December ia the clay on which the sun ia near the most southern point in its appareut annual journey, and for so long as we have historical record, it has been celebrated by ceremonies and rejoicings. The Hindoos on this day decorate their homes with garlands of liowers and papers of gold aud tinsel, and the custom of making presents to relatives and friends is I universally observed. The Egyptians recoguized it by their festival in honor of the birth of their god Horns. In China it is a general holiday, the shops are shut and the eourts closed. No journey would under any circumstances be commenced on this day. The Persiaus kept it as the birth day of Mithras the Mediator, a spirit of the sun, with ceremonies of uncommon splendor. The old Romans held high festival in honor of Bacchus, rejoicing with him that the sun was about to return and revivify the vineyards. They designated the day the birthday of the invincible sun. There ia no record that the birthday of Je-! sua the Christ, was observed till thje second j century. At the suggestion of JPope 1 elespho- j rus some of the Eastern churches recognized 1 the 6th of January as the day, while those of the West added it to other celebrations in the last week in December. In the fourth century Pope Julius made an order assembling the chief theologians of the time, for the purpose of examining all evidence bearing upon the date of the birth of Jesus, that tbey should, if possible, fix the day, in order that its observance might be' universal. After due deliberation they decided that it was on December the 25th. This decision was, at the time, believed by many of the fathers in the church to be erroneous, and they went so far as to assert that the examiners had been biased in their decision by i the desire to please the public, to whom this ! day had already become to be a noted one. Popular feeling, however, sustained the coun-; cil in their decision, which was finally universally accepted and commemorated, although it is now generally believed to be wrong. On the publication of the decision the Roman Church decreed and instituted special prayers to priests, to be said on that day, which are known as Christ masses. But we find another derivation for the name. The old Saxons had a word Motssa, by which they designated all days freed from labor, whether holidays or fast days. The holidays kept in remembrance of the birth of Christ, were Christ massa. The spread of the Christian religion carried with it the observance of Christmas as a re-1 ligious festival with which became connected other observances varying with the customs and habits of different nations. il. m ; tt nil me vjci umue, v/in ipiuioo jo colccujcu the "Children's Festival," and with them originated the world famous inyth of "Saint1 Nicholas," alias "Santa Claus," alias "Kris Kringle," the patron of Yule tide and the friend of all proper boys and prettily behaved girls. Happily the reforms in the observance of the day, which began in Germany, reached and was copied in other portions of Europe. Christmas is also now "Children's Day" in England and France. In toys and confections for the period the children are distinctly remembered in Italy, aud in America the Christmas Tree, the "stockings hung by the chimney with care," and the harmless merry games and innocent glee of childhood supplant much of the boisterous carousal which once tended to render the day rollicking and riotous. It was formerly the custom, and is j still the practice in some of the small villages in North Germany, to commission the personage of "Knecht Rupert," corresponding with our "Santa Claus," to distribute all the presents made by parents and friends to ( children. Disguised by a mask, wearing an enormous flaxen beard, clad in a long j white robe, and shod in tall buckskins, J "Knecht Rupert" weof, from house to house, . was received by the parents with great ceremony, called for the children, and after the , strictest investigation into their deserving, dispensed gifts accordingly. "Santa Claus," we all know, reports himself differently. CHRISTMAS SENTIMENT. Says a writer in the Yonkers Gazette: | "There is so much about Christmas that j savors of harmony, concord, peace?a peace j that means not merely the cessation of hos- | tilities between conflicting interests in our so- | cial world, but that serener, broader deeper | peace which unites man to man by all the { ties of friendly intercourse which proceed ont , of an universal desire to make Christmas a , bright spot among the fading memories of the year. , I like the sentiment the more, because it pervades every community and brings to view the better side of every man's character. 1 Not a Scrooge nor a Gradgrind on earth can 1 wholly steel Jiiraself against its humanizing ! influence, and though the closing of the day ! may find no charity dispensed or gladness awakened, yet it will at least surely find the !. edge of his habitual severity blunted. If ] there is ever "peace on earth," in its fullest 1 sense, it is on Christmas. I do not believe ' that custom and usage alone have made the modern anniversary day of the Saviour's nativity one of rejoicing; it has ever occurred 1 to me that since first the glad tidings went 1 out from Bethlehem the event has left its ira- ! press on each succeeding generation, and that each recurring "happy morn" has found the 1 chord of human sympathy and love respon- 1 sive to the mystic glow. It this were not so I think we should see less hand-shaking and 1 cordial greetings than we do now, a more limited sphere of action for the alms gatherer, fewer visits from "Santa Claus," fewer 1 Christmas tree festivals, listen to poorer and j less exciting homely old stories of legendary lore, hear less caroling of "Christiansawake," ! find a sparser harvest of mistletoe, and we would have far more contracted views of our life-cloud's silver lining. And then, too, I i like the methods we have taken as a nation to show our appreciation of that day. They are beautiful; they are just. They help us to consecrate our lives and to shape them in i the channel that is best suited to their moral < development. Where thoughts and motives are pure and simple, we may look for good deeds. Where the observance of Christmas 5a mnftp knnwni tlirnilfrh hpupvolfillt, HfitS. kind I words to the distressed, family gatherings, happy children and the distribution of gifts, whether the celebration be to honor the day j for the day's sake or not, the occasion is one that we should be truly thankful for. This i world of ours is bettered by Christmas, and every one of us should help to make it memorable. fgisttUflttMusi fading. The Sailor and the Widow.?Nearly half a century ago, when a coach ran daily between Glasgow and Greenock, by Pasliey, one forenoon, when a little past Bishopton, a lady in the coach noticed a boy walkiog barefooted, seemingly tired, and struggling with tender feet. She desired the coachman to take him up and give him a seat, and she would pay for it When they arrived at the inn in Greenock, she inquired of the boy what was his object in coming up there. He said he wished to be a sailor, and hoped some of the captains would engage him. one gave him a half crown, wished him success, and charged him to behave well. Twenty years after this, the coach was returning to Glasgow in the afternoon, on the same, rofld. When near Bishopton, a sea captaiu observed an old widow lady on the road, walking very slowly, fatigued and weary. He ordered the coachman to put her in the coach, as there was an empty seat, and he would pay for her. Immediately after, when changing horses at Bishopton, the passengers were sauntering about, except the captain and the old lady, who remained in the coach. The lady thanked him for his kindly feeling toward her, as she was now unable to pay for a seat. He said : "He had always had sympathy for weary pedestrians, since he himself was in that state when a boy, twenty years ago, near this very place, when a tender hearted lady ordered the coachman to take him up, and paid for his sect." "Well do I remember that incident," said she. "I am that lady, but my lot in life is changed. I vas then independent. Now I am reduced to poverty, by the doings of a prodigal son." "How happy am I," said the captain, "that I have been successful in my enterprise, and am returning home to live on my fortune; and from this day I shall bind myself and heirs to supply you with twenty-five pounds per annum till your death. The Gkave of Columbus.?It is generally supposed that the bones of Christopher Columbus, the great explorer, are at Havana, in the island of Cuba. But recent investigations have brought to light the fact that it was Columbus' son who was removed there. Let us go back to the first resting place of Columbus, for death did not end his voyages. He died in 1506 in Valladolid, north-central part of Spain, where he was buried. Then he was removed further south to Seville, and a handsome monument erected by Ferdinand and Isabella. Columbus had made a request in his will that he should be buried in his beloved Hispaniola; and now this idea was brought forward and his remains deposited in the cathedral of Santo Domingo, Hayti. Here also his son Diego, and grandson Luis were interred. At the close of the war between France and Spain, in 1795, it was stipulated that Spain should cede to the French "all the Spanish part of the island of Santo Domingo," or Hayti. Accordingly, Columbus was once more?as then thought?exhumed and conveyed to Havana with- great pomp and ceremony. In 1877 while men were working in the cathedral of San Domingo, they found a metallic casket which held human remains; on the cover under the dust of three hundred years, were found the words, Discoverer of America, First Admiral, most illustrious and renowned personage, Don Cristoval Colon. Every one who was present accepted this proof that the bod; >f the great discoverer had not been taken away to Havana, but was before their eyes, and Diego's had been removed by a mistake.. So, now, the matter rests in this way. Learned scholars are thinking of erecting a monument which should belong to the world, and not limited to the gratification of local or national pride. But such things move nlowly, and perhaps it will never be accomplished. 46T The Primitive Baptists make it a rule to expel a member from the church who takes advantage of a relief law or refuses to pay a debt. A few months since, one of this class?a pretty rough looking case?entered an Atliena fJenrons store, find wanted credit - " * ??-? ?> *-? ? r for a few goods until he could sell bis cotton. Not knowing his customer, the merchant refused, but about this time a well known elder of the church entered, and, tapping the farmer on the shoulde**, asked : "How are you, Brother Frank ?" "Is that gentleman a member of your church, Uncle D ?" asked the tradesman. "Oh! yes, and, a good one," was the reply. "Well, then, my friend," continued the dealer, "go through the house, frcm cellar to garret, and pick out what you want. I will sell you the whole establishment, clerks and ill, on credit, with only your relig:on as security." It turned out that the customer was one of the solid men of Northeast Georgia. The Georgia Railroad Commission has issued a circular ordering all the principal railroads in the State to reduce the price of first-class passenger tickets to three cents a mile. Smaller roads on which there is but little travel are allowed to charge four and Bve ceots. Reduced fares induce increased travel, and it is possible that the revenue at three cents will be larger than realized from the higher rates. The Georgia Commission is heartily supported by the State, and it has iccomplished much good. Three members, sue a railroad man, comprise it There has been turned out at Milan a new kind of bread made with blood from raw flesh. It is said to be a preventive of scurvy, and to do away with all desire for alcoholic drinks. The difficulty of blood coagulation being overcome, the "blood bread' ? - m , i will last tor years, lwenty per cent. or us ingredients consist in blood, and it is more nutritious than the ordinary loaves of one sent each. B?~ Men have no rights in Iowa. Even the old-fashioned Mosaic law of self-protection is not recognized by the courts there. The other day a husband was found guilty of abusing bis wife and seot to jail, although the evidence showed that all he did was to jam her mouth full of putty one night when he wanted to go to sleep and she insisted on continuing the conversation.' 8?* He who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me" was the great founder of the gladsome feast of Christmas, and it is in His honor that we uphold the feast and gladden the hearts of the little ones he loved so dear'** n ? * o knit, nlcaaum In molip their smiles brighter, their laughter cheerier and more musical. Let us all, then, properly celebrate Christmas Day. JST Happy, happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of bis youth; that can transport the sailors and travelers thousands of miles away, back to his own fireside and his quiet home! On the 11th instant, disastrous fires occurred in various sections of the Union as follows: In Newark, N. J., loss $50,000; Pensacola, Florida, loss $500,000; Irvington, N. Y., loss $100,000. Smaller fires also occurred at Memphis, Richmond and Cincinnati. At the latter five human lives were lost. . /