Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

r STMAS, 1394 •K k.V stfppf£Ms*fr.« v-« V. NEW YEAS. 11885. F ALL the pres ents in the world— > The wealth of the Christinas rheer. Ail the stores of beautiful toys For dear little ifiris and jolliest boys. All that ever were sung or told. Could Into a one big gift be rolled- All the holly and evergreen too l'd bring the bundle to you. my dear. The whole of it str light to you. Seltlsh—to wish it all for one, The gathered beauty of all the year'- Never, never'—for when it was done What would you do. my dear: Ah. ah' how swiftly your thoughts would go Out to the little ones far and near. Who never have seen and never can know The taste of holiday cheer. Think of the million wistful eyes That six)n would brighten with glad sur prise When I should bring it to you.tny dear. To do as you pleased to do. Woolly woe dogs and ihina kittens. All the rackets and balls and bats. Baa. baa lambs and purring eats. Scarlet mufflers and worsted mittens: All the dollies in ail the world. Blue-eyed, brown-eyed, frizzled and curled: All the books with pictures, rhymes. Telling of merriest Christmas times - All the story of peace on earth, Coming to us w ith a Saviour's birth. Yes. I will bring it all to you. The crown of the closing year. And when the little beseeching hands Were held to you from lands end lauds. Your bundle would melt so fast. s > fast. That soon we should reach the very last So now. have 1 answered right, my dear. Guessing what you would do: —Sydney Dayre, in Our Little Ones. it Happened 4 f CHRlSTmS.> d. < hristmas the jolli- AST was est true I ever saw. I guess what makes me think so is because it was such a good one to Aunt Mildred and 1’nclc (icorge though he was not my uncle yet, then—anti they say it it hadn't ls:cn for me they wouldn't have had rtlch a good Christmas. And I reckon A 1 hadn't been so anxious to work and earn something, tilings never would have happened just as they did. My pa died when I was just a little fellow, and my Aunt Mildred earned nearly everything we had after that, teach ing music, for my ma was sick nearly all the time. While my pa lived we had plenty, but everything he had was invested in a bank, and the bank failed boon after he died. People said that if he had lived the bank wouldn't have failed; and they think the man that was in with him cheated my ma out of what ought to have been hers. For the last three or four years 1 have been earning a nickel whenever I could by carrying parcels or running errands, or something of that sort; but last winter I just made up my mind that a great big boy eleven years old could do something harder than that; so when a big snow fell a week or two before Christmas I started out to shovel snow for people. There was Mrs. Bron son. living upon Fourth street, thathad always been mighty good about giving me little jobs to do. and I went to her first. She let me shovel the snow off of all the walks for her. ami paid me a good price for it: ami then she went and brought out an overcoat of Mr. Bronson's that she said he would not wear any more, though it was real good, all but on the sleeves and on the edge of it, and wanted to know if my' nia could not cut it down for me. I knew ma could do it, for she had made lots of things for me out of pa's old clothes, and I needed an overcoat, too; but 1 hated to take such a thing from a stranger, and my face burned like ire. But she offered it in such a nice way, like she was afraid of hurting my feelings, and her face looked like it was burning, too, so I thought maybe i'd better take it. and told her I would take it if she would let me do some thing to pay for it—I didn't feel like I could take it for nothing, it seemed so t'NDKK TIIK MlsTItTOF, / I , '■ Si' — . V ■ if i I /. / v / s' )1« -"1)1(1 I but dare vhat bliss were mine To press those )o -ely lips divine' Did 1 but dare!" She— 'I he stupid chump, to stand and stare As though bis feet were planted there. The stupid chump'"—Judge. much like a Itcggar—and *he toid me j all right. I might go down cellar and rick up the stove wood that had ls-eii hauled and thrown in there, soil would not be so much in the way. 1 went and piled up the wissl. and she wrapped up the coat in a bi£ paper, so no one could see what it was—I thought that was niet* of her- and I took it home with me. When 1 took it to ma and told her alxtut it she cried a little, but she said 1 did right to take it. and she went right to work ripping it up to make over for me. She was ripping away on it. when all at once she said: “Why, Harry, here is a letter addressed to Mr. George Bronson, that has worked its way down out of the pocket Ik-- ! tween the lining and the outside. ^ <>u must go right back to Mrs. Bronson and take the letter to her. and tell her how we found it.’’ IV e talked a little more about it and then I hurried back with it. though it did not look as though it could Ik* of much importance, for it seemed to have been written years ago, and didn't look like a business letter, either. It was in a woman's hand writing, and ma and I both thought it looked a little like Aunt Mil dred's handwriting, only smaller. But I think all women's and girl’s hand writing looks a good deal alike. When 1 gave the let ter to Mrs. Bronson she said George was her brother -in-law that used to board with them when they lived in Palmville, and she reckoned her hus band must have put the letter in his pock et and forgot to give it to his brother. She said, for it must have been in there for four or five years, George Bronson left their house and went off to some western city to practice law l>efore they left J'almville, ami that was over three years ago. She said she would send the letter to him and explain about it. The evening before C'hrist- tiias 1 was helping around in Mr. Baton's store and didn't get home till about eight o'clock. I went up to the kitchen window and peeped in and saw that ma and Klsie— that's my little sister —were in then*, so I thought I'd go around to the little front room we called the ] tar lor and g'et Aunt Mildred to help me hide the presents I had got for them, till -S .. the next morning. *•„ > When I went in. there was a great big. tall man with his arms around Aunt Mildred, holding her fast. She gave a little sort of a scream and tried to get away from him when I came in,ami 1 yelled out; “Burgdurs! IK Ip!" and picked upthc|Mikcrnndran at him: but Aunt Mildred said: “Stop, stop. Harry. Then lie let her go. and she sort o laughed and blushed and said: “Harry, this is not a burglar, but a man that is going to lx: your unele be fore long''.'’ You see. it was this way: They g'ot to be sweethearts five years ago wh< n Aunt Mildred was at boarding school, and Mr. Bronson Fnele George it is now—was 'tending' law school in tnc same place. They wanted to marry, but grandpa said Aunt Mildred was t<x» young to marry . but he let her corre spond with Fnele George after they both left school. But when Fnele George's brother forgot to give him that letter he waited and waited, and then he thought Aunt Mildred had quit writing' to him and he went off out west. He had never told his folks any thing about having a sweetheart, and they didn't know what was the matter with him. His brother had taken the letter out of the office and put it in his pocket with other letters, and when it slipped down out of sigTit he never thought of it ag'ain. Aunt Mildred was ju. t liko F.,. 1« , George; she thought he had quit writing I to her, and she never said anything' | about him. Grandpa died about that j time, and she came to live with us. ami all the money she had was put into the bank with pa's, and lost the same w ay. Well, you see when Mrs. Bronson g'ot hold of that letter she sent it to her | brother-in-law that's Fnele Georg'c. you know—and told him how a boy named Harry Floyd had found it in her husband's old coat; and when he g'ot the letter he saw just how it all was. and as my name is Floyd, he thougTit 1 must be some kin to Aunt Mildred; so he eame back lu-r<- as quick as he could and found out where we lived, and eame and found Aunt Mildred here. And that’s how I happened to be the cause of him and Aunt Mildred having such a merry Christmas last year. Fnele George is a pretty sharp law yer. 1 tell you, and he has brought some sort of suit against the man that cheated us out of oor money, and he thinks he is pretty sure of gettb g it buck for us.—Martha M. White, in Good Housekeeping'. Tlx* Dear Girin. Miss Muun— How closely Miss Killer sticks to that mistletoe. Miss Flypp Yes, it's heronly chance, poor thing.—Detroit Free Dress. Her Gill. sonn : hiii" :.t tv I i ’hriMrii: "Pray, rive in day. I have niorr scarfs than i can i \ < r wear For slippers, let me t ay i tin nol care. Tlioarh a good hoo's N never intiie v.av 1 have no time for reading Give me. prnv No tl'.on eigats. 1 huve cigai•> to spare. Give me no fountain-pens they make me swear: No knives before my tortured eyes display. Ah' pretty Stella overheard m\ plaint. And knowing well 1 loved her. blushing, said • How very deep, it seems, is your ur-pair. Your troubles, sure, would aggravate a saint. And so j think"—and here she bowed In r bend— ■'I'llpivcyou just myself; so tak< me. There!” Nathan M. Ix-vy. in Judge. It f illed the Kc<|ulreiiicntx. “Geergc." said Mrs. t'awker to her husband, “why did you ask Carrie what si e wanted for a Christmas pres ent. and when she replied that she wanted a sealskin sji, ; k. why did gooff ami g'ot hi r a cheap gTnve-but toner?'’ FOR THE BEST OF REASONS. •Why We “Why. my dear." replied t'awker. "the essential thing' alxuit a Christmas g'ift is that it shall be a complete surprise."—JlarjM r’s Ba;utr. His Hcasou. It was drawing' mar to a very inter esting’ season of the veur. Willy was Ha&y lo tt< I flippy. Mrs. Nexthxir — Aren't you always worried half to death when it comes to buying a Christinas present for your hu sband? Mrs. Sunshine—My. no! I buy my husband something 1 want f"r mvself. A IUiilosopl;ichI DiMM-rlatlon on Kiss tnder the .Mistletoe." There are some men who can develop a very lig'ht and agreeable subject into ,,u i a very heavy and disagreeable magazine article with an ease that implies little elfort—except on the part of the reader. 1 was moved to this reflection by see ing - in an old number of an English periodical a ponderous explanation by some Ix nig'hted Britisher of the rea- son: “Why We Kiss Under the Mistle toe.*’ of course the explanation had noth ing - to do with the ease. It had reference to the death of the chief, or king', of a primitive trilie and tlie saturnulian license of the interreg num, and ingenious ly supplied the t w o or three missing links necessary to con nect the mistletoe with these occur rences. Ye gtxls and little fishes! Why should a man disturb the ashes of a primitive king to find a bettor reason than the one right lio- forc his eyes. It is a wonder t hat some omi- n e n t savant doesn t endeavor to make Dionysius of Haliear nassus responsible for the ancient and hon orable custom of call ing on one’s best g'irl seven nights in the week. When we discover a pair of bright eyes sparkling with saucy invit ation. a soft cheek, crimson with a demurely unconscious blush, and nix", red lips forming them selves into an acquies cent pout, we are not obliged to g'o poking' around in s a v ag c graveyards to find out “why we kiss under the mistletoe!" W»* kits under the mistletoe f< r the same reason that we kiss on the back-parlor sofa, in the swiftly gliding cutter, or un der the hall lamp, just os we are saying ‘•Good night—" if we are si;re that her mother isn't looking over the balusters. (in tliis side of the water we hold prime val precedents of lit tle value. We prefer to hold living reali ties. We kiss without reference to Druid. Golh or Felt: to magna chart a or the court of - ' chancery. ■ X ... m if And when tlu * im* rry Christmas bell s r ■ing mm crisply on the ;tir We yy*_ f kiss the girls tinder HPSln the mistletoe. not. , as •fc, :-e y “Sr - -• ". may be meanly sng- and he buys me something' he wants lor himself, and :h< :. we trad*.— N. Y. W i*i k iy. Tle.t ViVt.'d Not S'ldf. “Let's be masTict oi (Tiristmas.ilar- f," said the impetuous young' lovi r :id yes. tin far-sig'hted l IIK1STMAS MOKMXG. Bobby Come to breakfast, sister! Little Sister (with her new Christmas doll)- No. thank you. Bob; 1 had my breakfast yesterday morning! Harper's Bazar Tlir ('lirUlinxH Girl. Tlie snow (him ilnfU'il to her brow . The holly tnnl bus dyed herrheek. Her eyes, like stars on Christiuus eve. Shine out with rkun es. coyly, meek There's ('hristiuus ntdUuce everywhere In wreaths of green and berries red. lint, best of all. I gladly note There's mistletoe above her head Lurana W Sheldon, In Life. Wally Keusonn. “1 don't see why you don't let me eat all my candy," whined Wally on Christ inas morning. “It didn't hurt my stockin’ to be full of it. and I'm big ger than it."—Harper's Young Deopie. young'girl. “I’d cuts.”- .1 udge. lose one set of pres- Anotlier Garment Hung. you iiung’ up your sock last “Did night?" 'No. 1 hung' up my overcoat yester day to get the momy for a present for my Ix'st girl." Duck An I nfeellng Man. “What are you going to give me for my Chrstmas present?” asked Mrs Cumso of her husband. “About fifty dollars to pay for mine," replied the wretch Judgt. ( brim mar Giving. j Yi u know, and I know, that to thou sands of n- Christmas has become a season of the year the coming' of which we actually drcaT. Years ago our fore fathers locked to it with delight. They 1 thoug ht <>f it months before. We do. too. only in a different spirit. Our main idea < f tin lom.ug-oi Christmas nowa days seems lo Ik what it is going to cost us. Christmas-giving, once regu lated by Hu heart, is in great danger of being'vi ry-ooii almost entire ly regu lated by the mi a ns if ithasnot already reached that deplorable state. We have made an actual business of Christ* mas-g'iving. Formerly it was consid ered a pleasure to give; now we sit down and think out our presents as a matter of duty. We have to give; we consider it an oblig'ation to give so- and-so a certain present at Christmas. Not that vi \ unt to do so; we simply feel that we must. "She will give me something, and. of course. I must give her something'." is the way we coldly calculate the matter. And then when we receive the present the first thoug'ht, in nine cases out of ten, is whether we have received as much as we gave. !f we have not we feel pro voked at our owng'enerosity, and cixdly make a mental conclusion that next year we will g'ive less.—Ladies' Home Journal. Itronomy. “Why don't you propose to Miss SoeircK. it you like her so much?" | "Dm waiting lor Christmas. Then, you si e. I can make the engagement ring - si rve for a Christmas present."— Chicag-o Bicord. May 'I 111* III- So! In thlr New Yi ar Get every heart God's higher comfort share! ('limbing to all the holii r hi l,;hts above - Hiding dark hale beneath the wings of Love' Ami In despite cf Morin iind stress and strife. Living the larger and the lovelier life! Atlanta Constitution. Guile. Dix If my wife asks you my brand of cigars Is-twecn now and Christmas, tell her these, and say — Dealer Yes. Ilix Don't charge her over a dollar a box; I'll pay the balance. Truth. A Tliuely gpicMIoii. "lean understand how Santa Claus comes ihurii the chimney." remarked Ldg'ur. “but 1 wonder how he goes - lluipu's Young Deopie. Y 1)00K stands open wide to« night. In token of % , ■ — ■* ' — parting guest, Who twelve months since with keen delight, I welcomed to my homely nest. He stands there now wan wasted, old. His race ijuite run his misvion o'er. And when the midnight hour is tolled We part, to meet no more He eame to me in merry guise. With hopes and promises not few; Ah ' w ho could look within those eyes And deem that they were all untrue’ Hut expectations all havi lied. The promises are broken too. Die hopes He withered, crushed and dead—• Not one of all but proved untrue. And there he stands, decrepit, wan. W ho came to me a merry elf. A fi w sands more he will he gone. And with him gone part of myself. So come and go the passing years That hear us to the silent sea. But bright with smiles or dim with tears. They come in love, dear Lord, from Thee. --Christian at Work. Sweet Hells of Christmastide. Christmas bells, chime out triumphant Over 1 ind and o\er sea' Send your happy tidings floating On sweet waves of melody. Softly tell your tender story. O er and o'er and o't r again, "i .lory in the highest, glory. Peace on earth, good will to men ’’ To some doubting weary spirit, Hriiig a gentle, holy calm: May your notes, on hearts sore-wounded, Fall like consecrated balm. Tos n.e life's storm troubled waters May they wliNpi r Plan l-e still! And our sleeping souls a waken With a glad, exultant thrill. On your wings of music. sw< et bells. Hci.rour thoughts to l!iiu above. Teach our hearts to time their pulses To the rupi'rous psalm of love. Oh' ring out all strife and malice. With the st >ry of His birth. HIng in 1 iiith. and Hop- and Love, _ And ]-c;,ic on carth ^ • audia Tharin. in Good Housekeeping. < HKfSlMAS IN 1) A it Is TO W V Y gesteil, because they expect it anil tve are tix) courteous to dis- appoint them, bur simply ami solely lieeause we can t help it. Am! we v. otilun't if \vc couhi! Hurry Uumniiic. iii Duck. Parson Jackson—Ephrim. it says in <le good book: “Thou shall not steal." Ephraim Johnson I know that, sah, but I've been so lucky 1 thought I'd gib you one. Parson Jackson "The Lawd lubs tv chii rlul giver.'*— .1 udge. Christ iiixt Time. 1 n. ist ow n that all this fussing'* H..tin r trying on the nerves For a wc< k back I've been running To tin cellar for pn serves. To th< loft to bring the hams down. To t he barn for « ggs. you see All our young folks arc a-coining Home to mother and to me. Hick is coming home from college, lie has holidays just now. He Is going to he a preacher (He could never learn to plow); Lucy's coming from the high school, Hen and Harry from the town. And we've made Kliza promise To bring all h« r children down. Mother s in a i>osU\ tldget. And she's fretting all day long lx st with all her roasts and pudding* Something may perhaps go wrong; But 1 just ket p on a humming An old-fashioned Christina: glee. For the young folks are all coming Home to mother and to me. 1’ McArthur. In N. Y. Sun. Ik or Are. Ah' Santa Clous, come in, come In, Your welcome is beyond all measure, We re glad to have you come and stay. Your Christmas ’ ’^emxMs \ * P kuMjre — Detroit Free Press. Tin joyed It. Dinwiddie—"Did your children enjoy Christinas?" Larimer —"1 should think they did. Had to call in two doctors.’’ — Pittsburgh Chronicle Telegraph. 1 out print* In the Sands of 1 line. /O - $ 0 Kavhatige. The Festivity Not Vet I omplet*. Tommy Come on out an plaf. Eddy I can't. Tommy Why not? Eddy- I got some Christinas tilings wot 1 ain't broke yet < hicugo Kccord.