The weekly ledger. (Gaffney City, S.C.) 1894-1896, December 24, 1896, Image 12
1837,
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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
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“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