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lCoyrtgt, 1MO0 by American Press Asso ciation.]. iJ~I. LL IA BOUT 100 years ago there was a very poor young man who lodged In the attle of an old d1lapidate house In the Platz ewas so sensitive of his poverty ~ r lg t 110 bhciy of B nnmerm P e san so he would not appear on the street thedaytime, fearing that strangers Would scoff at his soiled linen and tat *ered clothes. The neighbors declared, and with reasonable cause, that the was demented, for his gray eyes wa with a strange light beneath spale and massive forehead. His kong hair fell In disordered masses about his emaciated cheeks. The set expression of his thin lips betokened the bitterness of his life, and the deal er In wax tapers who lodged in the sdjoining room asserted that the ougman passed his days and nights playing upon an old piano *nd covering great sheets of white pa with Incomprehensible scrawls. [enever he ventured upon the street the housewives ran to their doorsteps Ito see him pass by, and the children scoffed at him. No one knew his mame or profession, whence he came for whither he went. He had only one iend, who called every evening at sunset. The latter was a person well known in the city of Bonn. He was the tall, gaunt drunkard, Joachim uescher, organist of the cathedral tnd kapell-meister for monseigneur the bishop. One Christmas eve Master Joachim. gwarmly ensconced in his antiquated greptioat, climbed the rickety stairs and without knocking entered the at ite of his friend just at the beginning af the winter twilight. He found the pung man sitting at the window, gaz sadly at the fantastically carved gables, the turrets and spires of the I ancient city, over which the snow had spread a shroud of uniform and glit tering whiteness. "Ho, ho!" exclaimed the kapell meister as he slapped the young man son the shoulder. "What do I see? (What do you mean? Do you wish to be forever damned? Come! No black butteffies on Christmas eve! Look! WEho city is clothed in Its wedding gar snents, the church bells ai-e pealing s2errily, and already, in anticipation of' smidnight, the streets are odorous with the flavor of Mayence ham and greasy tritters. Very soon the taverns will Illuminate their windows as an invita An,above all, monseigneur's treas arer dild not forget to pay me my sal ary. Come, comrade! Let us go." Buddenly he ceased speaking, and his gaunt features asned a sympathetic expression. When , be resumed his sepeech it was in a gentle and tende tone: S"Ah, you are suffering as always, my poor grand genius!" Then the young man arose brusquely, savagely wiped away a tear that was coursing down his cheek and exclaim ed in a violent manner: :"Oh, be quiet! I hate the world! Its pleasures are to me like so many thrusts of a knife. I hate the human race; 1 hate myself! Genius, did you say? Yes, if thatis to bethe vctim of every torture and every sorrow; to see oneself the subject of insult, sus picion and public indifference; to heart hunger, thirst and disease knock at~ ~one's door; to feel that all the sublime Nvoices, all the vast inspirations of one's sheart and brain, are stifled by the cold .ness of death; if it is to be a recluse and a pariah, then, indeed, am I aI genius. But come! These walls, the silent witnesses of my despalr, give me ithe horrors." Then with unaffected tenderness and paternal solicitude the old organist re mnoved his greatcoat and placed It over the shoulders of his friend. But the young man scarcely realized the act of kindness, so absorbed was he in his own meditations. They left the house and walked slow ly, arm In arm, through the narroW streets, which now were thickly car peted with snow. The old organist selected the route, kept a watchful eye on his companion and even tried, with his own eyes full of tears, to bring a smile to the face of his young friend, ~who fetures under the pale light of the *** tn*b' ",nnenally somber and R.DU PONTAVICE -DE HUESSEY [Traslated from the Freach by Georte Me.r.head.] sUlene and solemnity of that winter's night. At last they reached the heights of the. suburb called Coblentz, which overlooks the ancient city, and were passing through one of its most re tired streets when the young man sud denly stopped and grasped the arm of his companion. "Hushr he said. "Listen!" Master Joachim, bending his head to one side, seemed to increase the vast o . P "UsHi " HE SAID. "LISTEI" area of his rubicund ears, and In the deep silence of the night he heard. modulated by a broken winded harpsi chord, some vague and feeble sounds that issued from a neighboring house. The two friends remained silent and motionless. Presently they recognized the melo dy. It was an andante, possessing breadth, sweetness and melancholy, and despite the mediocrity of her in stiwent and the crudeness of her method the invisible performer im pressed upon the music a tenderness of expression that denoted a poetic souL "Ah, by my faith!" exclaimed Master Joachim. "If I mistake not, that mu ic" "Is mine," said the young man. while two tears glistened in his eyes. "Listen, Joachim; listen! It is the andante from my first symphony. Ah! I was wrong a few moments ago when I cursed my fate. God Is good, and life Is worth living, sinice here in my native city some one knows me. understands me, loves me! Since my spirit is the consoler of another, and a woman no doubt. Yes, yes; it Is a woman, for I recognize the soul, the touch, the feeling of a woman, or, rather, of an angel that heaven in Its mercy to the poor and despised has sent to earth this festive night as a balm of celestial joy to my poor wounded heart." "Hum! Brou!" growled Joachim, who had become critical on hearing his favorite instrument. "I admit that the performer displays some feeling. but, my good Ludwig, the left hand is feeble, and the arpeggios of the right hand lack finesse and breadth. The method of a pupil, my boy." "Silence, blasphemer!" replied the younger man, whose face was now re splendent with joy. "That woman does not merely play my music-do you understand? She expresses my thoughts. I feel it here!" he said. striking his heart "But, come! I must see her, and here is the house.' Eagerly h~ drew Master Jonchim to ward a humb cottage. A light filtee~ ed through the badly jointed shutter of a lower window, and it was from that room the music came. But as they leaned forward near the window in an effort to hear the better the. in strument suddenly became silent as it emitted one last plaintive note that resembled a sob. II. THE young girl had ceased play ing suddenly, in the middle of a phrase; then she remained motionless and appeared to be absorbed in a reverie, while her fingers skimmed mechanically over the keyboard; finally she uttered a deep sigh, and a moment later, with a ges ture or despair, she closed the old harpsichord and rested upon her el bows with her face between her hands. "Little sister, why do you not play? It does me good to hear you." The speaker was a young man with an honest but unusually serious coun tenance. Seated before a table cov ered with little pots and brushes and under the light of a large lamp, he was coloring those fantastic little animals and grotesque dwarfs cut in wood! which are the triumph of the Nurem berg workshops. "You like to hear me play, my poor Fritz," replied the girl, "because you have heard no one else, but I despair and grieve when I think how far I am from my ideal. Never, no, never, willI I produce with these feeble and awk ward fingers the celestial and sublime; melody that soothed and charmed me on Chilstmas eve a year ago.',' C I the old Instrument, the young girl re- i sembled the statue of Melancholy. The I light of the lamp illumined her classic profile and blond hair; her eyes pre- I sented a peculiar appearance as if they were covered by a veil; she seemed to I be blind; In her attitude and features I there were tokens of sorrow and resig- C nation, but in the light of her forehead I faith and hope shone with rays of di vine purity and sweetness. All the sur- t roundings of this young couple betok- S ened poverty, even misery, but a mis- C ery bravely borne, a life of toil marked x by decency and pride. "Yes, I remember," said the young man. "It was on Christmas eve, on just such a night as this, that you had that adventure, an adventure that would bring a pitiful smile to the face of any but a poor person, and yet I i cherish and bless It because it brought a ray of sunshine Into the dark shad- I ows of your life. Tell me once more, I dear Alice, the story of your adven- I ture. I love to hear you In the deep I silence of the night relate the story in your slow and gentle voice, which 4 seems to come from above, while your fngers lightly caress the keys of your old friend." She resumed her place before the In strument and dreamily played a few chords. "Oh, yes," she said, "that was a di vine melody. Alas, I can remember nothing of it but this one air, but that simple air Is as broad as the winter sky and as deep as the ocean. Every time I play it the whole scene returns to my memory. You remember, Fritz, you had taken me that night to Aunt Gertrude, who was very Il in her little attic in the Platz Roemer, and-as you had some work to finish you left me there for several hours. Sitting at the, side of the invalid's cot, I could hear her breathing, and, although I could not see her, I imagined the appearance of her poor face, yellow, wrinkled And emaciated by age, privation, Illness and suffering. A profound silence reigned arund me. My habitual darkness ap peared to be deeper, heavier and more ruel than before, and I trembled as I thought how sad and burdensome this life was to the poor and unfor-, tunate such as L. "Suddenly some one began to play a piano in an adjoining room. The mu sic commenced with a soft prelude like the beating of a bird's wings In the distance or the approach of a cohort of angels, and as the rhythm expanded and increased I imagined I saw the seraphim, all white and dazzling, de scending from the stars and illumining the darkness that surrounded me. Then I was seized and inundated by n overwhelming harmony which open-] ed to me the gates of paradise. Ah, ow can I express the torrent of In effable sensations and delicious pleas res that submerged my senses In' those enraptured moments! Inspired 1 by the wonderful notes that were cre ated by the fingers of that magician, ev erything around me vibrated and lived. Radiant visions greeted my new found sight. Beautiful saints, biillant with light and glory, pointed out to me the1 heaven whence they came and whither they returned-without me, alas, the ruel ones! Suddenly all this world of dreams faded away and disappeared in the night; then, vast, profound, rell gious, consoling and inspired, the an ante that I have retained and learned arose majestically In the midst of the mysterious darkness." "Yes," said Fritz, "and when I re turned I found you trembling and weeping, and it seemed to me that the eatures of our poor old aunt were im pressed with an unusual degree of serenity. In fact, I Imagined that Fat. ther Christmas had paid a vIsit to both of you during my absence. But on our way home you related to me that I strange adventure. Next day I made inquiries and learned that Aunt Ger "LfrrILE SIsTER, WHY DO YOU HOT PLAY?" trde's neighbor was a young musician, mysterious and eccentric, who was' on the verge of being dispossessed by his 4 landlord because he was too poor to pay his rent and for the additional rea son that he disturbed the sleep of hisj neighbors by loud and untimely up roars similar to that which regaled] your ears." "Do not say that, dear Fritz, even 1 In fun, or you will offend me. The strange musician whom I heard that t night was one of those angels sent to: < erh by God and known to us by the, name of genius." She rmrnad silent for a moment. truggling against her emotion. Then n an outburst of exaltation she ex laimed: "Oh. to bear him once more-only ne-would be a foretaste of celestial diss!" Instinctively she softly played the heme of her beloved andante as an ac ompaniment to the following prayer: "Bright king of this holy night "hristmas, Father Christmas, good Fa her Christmas, who concealeth thy enerable head under the hood of the preat red cloak so full of enchant nents; thou who this winter's night, v1th thy snowy beard floating In 'the kosty air, doth traverse the world and top by preference before the more iumble and sorrowful dwellings to ratify the modest wishes of those imple souls who have faith in thy ower-Father Christmas, grant in his solemn vigil the wishes of thy mmble and devoted servants. Oh, nd and loving friend of women and hildren, grant, I pray, that I may hear dim once more!" Fritz had arisen, much affected by he fervor of the girl's prayer. He was Lbout to speak when the door suddenly >pened and two strangers appeared ipon the threshold. IIL B EFORE the young master of the humble cottage had recov ered from his astonishment the elder of the two strangers Lpproached him and said: "Excuse our informal entrance, my naster. My friend and I are two very >oor but enthusiastic musicians. We were passing through the street when we were attracted by the sound of rour piano and could not resist our lesre to become acquainted with the artist, the unknown brother or sister, who is- concealed In this remote sub 2rb." "Alas, sir," replied the young man, 'we are not artists, but only humble working people. Our life is a very mard one, but my sister sometimes rightens it with a fugitive ray of sun ;hine by playing, as she did this even ng, some melodies that she has learn The younger of the two visitors now Lpproached Alice. She trembled visi 1y when he touched her lightly on :he shoulder and said In a gentle roice: "You like that music, my child?" "Oh, yes!" she murmured. "I love t-I cherish It! It is sublime! Only xfi I' SHE IsTENED wITH ALL mE SOUnL. feel that I can never play It as It hould be played." "But," said the musician, who was tandng now before the instrument, 'you have not the music. Do you play my ear?"' Upon hearing these words the broth r ran to his sister's side and took her land. while she replied In a sad voice: "Look at me, sir-you who are so ~ortunate as to have your sight I am alind." There was a moment of painful si ence. "Ah, my child," said the musician, 'God alcts in this life those he wish ~sto glorfyn thelnext world. I also save a heavy cross to bear, and some :ies I am tempted to curse my fate, rt I always have at my side a divine :omforter-muiiSc! Let it console us tow. What you were playing a few noments ago is not unknown to me. iayplayt now?' WIthout waiting for a reply be seat d himself before the old harpseord. .t the sound of the first few notes e blind girl trembled with joy. Had ot the good Father Christmas grant d her prayer? Under the touch of a master, Light md heavenly as It was, under the stress of that divine inspiration, the* ld instrument Ibecame sonorous and athetic. Ah, how it throbbed, sang, wept, laughed and sighed by turns! es, yes, 1t was the same that she tad heard a year ago at the bedside f her dying aunt. As the volume of ntslc reverberated through the hum yle room an ecstatic glow lighted the ~irl's features. With clasped hands, with parted lips and with her poor ;ightless eyes raised toiward heaven ;he listened with all her soul-as aI ;aint might listen to the singing of nisible angels. The player also was transfigured. Es face no longer bore the bitter and omber expression that we noticed :here before he began to play. The ire of enthusiasm now blazed In his 'yes; a powerful emotion agitated his Ips. Framed in the waving torrents >f his long hair, his face was that of master of human thought He ceased playing upon a final ma estic chord: then he bowed his head, td his eyes gazed vacantly Into space. his thoughts were no longer of this arth. The inspiring power of his own nusic had overwhelmed his soul and narked his pale features with the rats of genius. Suddenly, In a burst >f violence, he arose and ran to the indow and opened it wide to the wintry air. he-- monnupn I course reie-nd~ as sovereign mistress of the evening sky, and the scene which It Illumined was of extraordinary beauty and re pose. From that height the view em braced the entire city of Bonn. which climbs zigzag along the hills, trav ersed by its sparkling river, now bid-: den by its coat of ice. There was some thing fantastic in the vast Immo bility of the landscape. in the striking contrast of the immaculate snow which covered the city like a shroud "GIVE ME nsPIBATION-" and traced upon the distant heights a great white line which formed the horizon and of that deep blue sky now unrufMed by wind or marred by dloud. "0 night," murmured the musician as he leaned with his elbows on the window sill-"O mysterious moon, you are my friend! I understand everything you say to me. The les son of resignation you teach me this evening I shall never forget! Give me Inspiration. Descend upon me with all the train of your majestic and silent splendors in order that I may be able to speak of you and disclose your immortal beauty to that poor child who has never known you." The two spectators of that strange scene remained mute, awed and fasci nated by the exaltation of the young musician. He returned to the piano, near which Alice was sitting, lost in a deep reverie. He took her hand and said: "My child. you do not know the ap pearance of the clear, soft night, which draws over the heavens its Im perial mantle, dotted with glittering stars; you do not know what the beau tiful round moon says to the. proud souls and taciturn hearts that love solitude and sorrow. Ah, well, I shall tr3 to tell you .all that!" She was almost on her knees be fore him. He resumed his place at the piano and played. What he played. no facility of style, no artifce of language, can ever ex press. There are certain musIcal works which seize upon the soul, soothe It, soften It or agitate it. Each chord, each note;, causes the vibi-ation within us of some hitherto unknown sense. Our sentimental personality Is deliciously or terribly awakened. Final ly the last note dies away. We re turn to ourselves, we try to analyze what we have so vividly experienced, and we quickly perceive that it Is an impossible task. So the devotees of the occult sciences pretend that music is the language of the spirit world. When the musician had finished he looked around him. The blind girl. motionless and transfigured, seemed to be In heaven. In one corner the boy, to whom this humble home be longed, was weeping freely, his head between his hands. Master Joachim was standing behind his companion with his enormous mouth open in amazement and- his eyes fixed on the musician in absolute surprise. The young man smiled. softly closed the piano, approached the blind girl and kissed her on the forehead, then whis pered to the old organist: "Come, and do not make a noise." Silently they gained the door and disappeared. A moment later the young artisan "rr wAS AN A1GEra." raised his head and said. "Ah, hose strange, Alice, they are not here1" "1t was an angel, my brother. He has flown away, but 1 am sure he will return." THAT night when the poor mu sician returned to his humble Titterness of spirit had van ished. He kindled his meager fire, lighted his lamp and throughout the night covered with his accustomed scrawl many of those long white sheets of paper lined with black which had aroused so much suspicion In the minds of the good women of the neighborhood. When the pale winter's sun again shone upon his window the composer, overcome by fatigue, was sleeping with his head resting upon his scattered sheets, but before he fell asleep he had finished his work, which he called in memory of that eventful night "The Moonlight Sonata." Today that sonata Is considered one of the most sublime creations of hu man genius. The young man who on~ that Christmas eve played the 'role of cnsolng angel to the blind girl was SANTA CLAUS OF THE WOO! OC as be comes. with clashing bell%, Co chdren that ae wise and good Cbe Santa Claus that trims the tree Of Christmas In the wood; Not in a single night be loads Che boughs with gift and cradle bere. EM, no; to trim the fotSst t De labors all the Vear. C6 summer tarried whie be bn VC bauble bals of siU and spore pon the bosom of the Oak End silver sycamore. Che autumn lingered wbile be wove Che silver fibers and the ftoss Of gold and amber in the lap ed apron of the mos. TIE FLOSS OF GOLD M A"E". 6 wrought wtA sap and wind ao I) ain MblIe summer suns -wer ieb and yen strung his beads of afmson ft Hbout the fruted baw. Hd, tendri tied, be hung tbe grape from bough to bougb-o high twe peze fop circus antics of the sidff4L ch gymnast of the trees. is Christmas carol is the bY Of winter Pds that pipe and Sing. Die goody-gifts the pr6mised sweet Of maples In the spv*ng, Di little ark a fallen leaf oat tipples down the crystal sta i Of sylvan brooks, his toy baloon 1 snow1lahe n the Ab. SLPPING DOWN AN ANCIDNT HOZiOWTE OR m rre1 berethechimney place Co asehiscomngchance to. be Cbe vogue-behold him slipping dow En ancient hollow tree I December's gifts and gifts fot liay De leaes; teneree psssby 5e begs a match from night and ligbto Cbe candles of the skyl --Eloysius Coil in Ladies' WRotid THE MISTLETOE BOUGH. Thoughts of Which It Ha L.ong Bee Emblematic,. The mistletoe boughs and spd bring again to mind the superstitlin regarding this curious parasite. For many generations after the last Druid was dust the- mistletoe had i votaries. The plant had almost every medicinal property, according to early physicins It was believed to be a remedy for ils, physical, mental and sentimental. Ya pagan days it was dedicated to Olwen, the Celtie Venus, ad through the ages the plant and th tender pr.ssion were rather Intl. mately intwined. Himsing beneath it began so far back in history that no one has ever attempted to trace the custom to Its youth. The Druids, In, common with almost al primitive men, had a deep reves nce for the idea of the trinity-the number three. The white bert!es of the mistletoe are often found in groups of three, and this circumstance as well as the fact that the beries ripeflat.k the sacred season, althdugh they flow er with apple blossoms and wild ro.e, must have Impressed them. At aD events, the white boughs were gathe ed near the end of the year and played an important part In the ceremonies of December. The Druids did not regard all mistle toe with reverence, or at least they did not gather It in their ceremonies from any tree except the oak, which was their sacred tree. Now the mIstletoe * almost never grows on oak trees. In England, the continent of Europe and In America the pretty parasitic growth, the Viscum album of the botanists, isa found growing on apple trees, willows, larches, sycamores, poplars, elms ane iany other trees, but very rarely om -