The watchman and southron. (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, December 28, 1886, Image 1
"Be Just and" Fear not-Let ail the Ends thou Ainis't at, be thy Country's, thy God's and Truth's "
THE TRUE SOUTHRON, Established Jaae, I860
SUMTES, S. O., TUESDAY, JANUARY 49 1887. New Series-Yol. TI. No.
Cjjt M^mau m? ^m??xmi
PtL?liS??d QYcry Tuesday,
BY
. Gr. OSTEEN,
.SUMTKK, S. G.
r?ftMS:
Two Dollars per annum?io advance.
A C V IC ? S M ? TS .
>Qe Square, ?rs? insertion.Si 00
Sverv subsequent insertion. 50
Contracts for three months, or longer wilt
De made at reduced rates.
All communications which subserve private
?terests will be charged for *s advertisements.
Obituaries aid tributes of respect will be
cfearged; feri.
CeTTOS BATT?fc SATTRESSES.
TTTHERS WE SPEND ALMOST HALF;
W of our lifesfaouid be made a? comfort
^b^ ; ?s .possible,, and for the purpose of
aiding this good work, and making: some
money, we now offer the best COTTON BAT
TING MATTRESS ever put upon this market.
Three, grades now made?S5.00, $6.00. S7.00
Sample and full information at Store of
Treasurer, A. Moses.
^Satisfaction guaranteed in every case, or
mocev refunded.
S?MTER COTTON MILLS
WELG" & SASON.
Family Grocers.
"185 and 187 Meeting, and 117 Market Sts.
CHARLESTON, S. C ,
Invite attention to :he follow ing
BARGAINS.
CUT LOAF SUGAR. 14* lbs- for S - j
GRANULATED SUGAR, 15* lbs. for Si. j
CONFECTION EE'S SCGAU," loi ibs. for ?1 i
WHITE EX. C. SUGAR. 17 ibs/for $!.
LiGBTBROWN SUGAR, 19 lbs. for ?1. j
GOOD-BROWN-S?GAR, 20 ibs. for $1.
2 lb. TOMATO ES 90.'cts. a dozen.
3 lb. TOMATOES, SI.10 a dosen.
GOOD SEGA RS, $1 for a box of 50. ? ?
These are oniy a few of the many attrv j
tions we are cocstaatly opening, and In-:-.
keepers wili find it greatly to their adraut? !
to'send for a copy of our monthly Price Lt j
consult it always.
Ko charge for packing or drayage.
G. BART 100,
Importers and W holesale Dealers ?n
FRUIT
CHARLESTON. S. C,
Are receiving by steamer and raii froniie
North and West full supplies
each week of
CSOICE APPLES. PEARS. LEMONS. G
TATOES, CABBAGES. ONIONS, NUI |
OF ALL KINDS, Etc., Etc. ' !
_?Sy*Orders solicited ana promptly filled.
Nov 9 ______ !
IMPORTANT TO BOHSEKEEPES! j
I HAVE OPENED A
GREEN GROCEI-f!
ON LIBERTY STREET, NEAR MAI j
I wiii keep constantly on hand
Fresh Tennessee Bef? j
PORK, TEAL, MUTTON", AX j
SAUSAGES. j
Give me a call and save time and mon. !
Goods delivered free.
I. O. WjESTOX,
Nov. 9 ii Sirmter, S., j
FALL AND WINTE i
MILLINER! |
Are prepared to furnish their friend
and patrons with Trimmed and Uutriaed I
HATS AND BONNETS j
FEATHERS, FLOWERS. RIB30XS, c, I
in great variety. j
ZEPHYRS AND CANVAS
Goods sbowc with pleasure.
Call and examine our stock beforeur
chasiag elsewhere.
October 26._
J. D. CRAM,
E?tTABUSHEO 1s5g.
FURNITURE DE?B
AKI,
St8^
1?XJ8
TTTOULD THANK IIIS F Ri SN Diu d j
fV the public generally for :i?e:r irai i
patronage ?a the past, and hopes by low ces :
and fair dealing te merita coutiu'-u-nce the i
same.
He bas received airead a large a::c ied 1
assortment of HOUSEHOLD
JB^ xx 3L* xx ? % xx _2r> !
fer the Fall Trade, which weekly addms :
are being made, and there ca:; be nd
IN HIS WELL STOCKED ROOMS asea*.
& display of FURNITURE OF ALL GR-ES
as in the first-class city houses.
H? has bough: his goods DI7.?GT DM i
THE FACTORIES, at lowest prices to bad :
and proposes to give his customers th-uil i
benefit of his bargains.
PARLOR SUITES.
Wood and Marble-Top Bee Room Sai
Bedsteads, Mauresses, Spring Beds.
Chairs, Sideboards, Sofas, Leungs.
Safes, Bureaus. Wasbstaads.
Pictures, Picture Frames, Window Sl*s, '
and ail other articles su r>p?ie? br the furnre !
trade. ;
??ALSO,
WINDOW GLASS AND PUTTY, j
Call at his store and be convinced by ar- :
sonai examination of gooi__ and prices .t
these assertions are true. He
*
in showing customers around.
THE UNDERTAKING DEPARTME^ |
?3 complete with a large number of stv?c?f
CoSns and Caskets, from the smallest ?o?
largest sizes made, and at as reasonable :>r;
as the same can be bought any where. ?
Calls promptly attended to" da.- or nh'h '
J. D. CRAIG i
Oct 5_
FOR SALE. .
MILK COWS
ALWAYS ON HAND
. B. Thomas,
Wedgefield, S. C.
lUIf CllIiwCIIv fris pape:, o? oo?ain est.rr.atg
on advertising space when in Chicago, w?l find it cn file ai
45 to 49 ^??^ 55 St.J ?
theAdVc.i^ns Asency of UM.D& THOMAS-.
Koedinc renewed strength, or who suffer from
? l_Jlr_i-ic? peculiar to their sex. ?hould try
B-5TTCN?&
i
!
}
This sedicine combines Iron with pore ve?etabte
tcsics, snd is mvakxable for Diseases pectniix to
Wom?n- and all who lead sedentary lives. It En
riches and Pnrifles tho Blood, Stimulates
the Appetite, Strengthens the Muscles cna
Nerves?in fact, thoroughly Invigorates*
Cleare the compleiion, and makes the skin smooth,
?t dfes not b{acken the teeth, canse headache, or
predace constipation?all other Iron mtdicinee do.
??__g^KnZaB-~ai BiXRD, 74 Farwell Ave.. M?w&n
kea, ~'is., says, under date of Doc. 25th. 1864:
** Ihavo used Brown's Iron Bittere, and it has been
more than, a doctor to me, having cured me of_tha
weakness ladies ?ls,ts in life. Also cured me of Liv
er Ootaplaint. and now my complexion is clear and
good. Sas also been beneficial to my children.*'
MRS. Lonsiv C. BbaGDOX. East Lockpcrt^N. Y.,
Bays: " I hari suffered untold misery from Female
.Complaints, and could obtain relief from nothing
except Brown's Iron Bitters."
Genuine has above Trade Mark and crossed red linea
oq wrapper. Ta_o no other. Made only by
EEOWX CII?LSLICAL CO-, BALTIMORE, 24D.
A FINE
LORIDA TONIC!
Mr. FOSTER S. CHAPBLftN,
One of the landmarks of the Georgia Drug
trade, now of Orlando, Florida, writes:
"J can hardly select a single casc
?t the many others to when-; I have
GULNN'S ' PIONEER 3L00D RE
NEWER, but what, have been satis
fied: and ? ?nc it the best remedy
for a?? Skin Diseuses I have ever
sold. and a Fine Florida Tonic.
"FOSTER S. CHAPMAN.
S'Oriando, Fia."
A CERTAIN CURE FOR CATARRH !
A SUPERB
Flesh Producer and Tonic!
GUINN'S EIOXEKK SLOGO RKNEViTER
Cures ail B?oo? and Skin Diseast-s. Rheuma
tism, Scrofula. Old Sores. A perfect Spring
Medicine.
If not in your market it vril? be forwarded
on receipt of price. Small bottles $1.00:
large boules $1.75.
Essay on Blood and Skin Diseases mailed
free
m ACON MEDICINE COMPANY.
Macon. Georgia.
For Salt; by Da. A. J. CHINA.
July 13. Sur:: ter. S. C.
FOR 1886-7.
RETURNS F PERSONAL PROPERTY
AND POLLS -.vili be received a: the
following titees and places :
Privateer, Tuesday, January 4th.
Bloora Hill, id Manchester T?'?q
ship. Wednesday; January otb.
WedgeSeld. Thursday, January Gth.
Statebsrg. Friday, January 7;b.
Gordon's Mili. Friday,"January 7th.
Maycsville, Monday, January l?ia.
Magnolia, Tuesday, January 11th. ?
Lyucbbarg, Wednesday,, January
12tn.
Sbiloh, Thursday, January loth.
Johnson's Store, Friday, January
14th.
Scarborough's Store, Saturday, Jan
uary 1 -" th.
Kei?'s Mill. Monday, January 17ih.
Bisbop ville, Tuesday and Wednes
day, January iStL and 10th.
Mann ville, Thursday. January 2Glb.
Stc?tkx?Ue, Friday, January 21st.
Mechacicsville. Saturday Jauuary
22od.
Sanders' Depot, Wednesday, J*nu
ary I9th.
m. Sanders' foras er office, Thursday,
January 20th.
?.:<b
At the Auditor's office In Seuiier on all
other days from ist of January to 20th Feb
ruary, inclusive.
Parties making Returns by mail or by an
other jvrson will Mieascgire fuii first name of
Tar-payer. ;-.::d the Township the property is
in. Vv. R. DELGAR,
Nov. 30. Auditor Sum ter Count'*.
1 X1?-j O ?J i.vl i sLiJT?j
mm school
FOR BOYS,
Affording superior advantages
in ENGLISH-, MATHEMATICS,
and the CLASSICS, -.v?i? reopen
??NDAY. SEPTEMBER G, l?SG.
L. W; DICK.
)
A. C. McINTOSK, j
TTJ7T?ON?From $^ ic-$5 per :: ;.
BOARD?with the princip?is,-512 per :no.
Fur further information apply to
PRINCIPALS SUMTES Ht Gil SCHOOL,
Lock i?ox No. ? :?.
A?:g 3-v Sinner, S. C.
THE TEMPERANCE WaSKER,
A Live, Temperance Paper.
Published S<.:;:i-r:.'.>:::V
s?mter; s. o.
Under tifc? Editoriul management of
iiiiv. Ii. V. e ^.
G."?r.c.r. or i.o.G.?. os s.
Assisted by an able corps : Editors.
Tl:e patronage and LnSne?ce ot nil friends
ofTeioperance is solicited. Terms only t>0
cents a-yeiir. Tojidvertiser: desiring wl i-e
Circulation, it offers au excellent odium
On bt^iuess, adares? N. 0. ?STEEN.
moment yet the actor stops,
And looks around to say farewell.
It is an irksome word ed task;
And when he's laughed and seid bis say.
He shows, as lie removes the mask,
A face that's anything but gay.
One word ere yet the evening ends,?
I^ei'sclose il wi&a parting rhyme;
And pledge a baud to all ycung friends;
As iiu> the merry Christmas.time :
On life's wide scene you, too. have parts
That fate ere long shall bid you play;
Good i??ht:?with honest, gentle hearts
A kindly greeting go alway.
Good ?iglit:?td say the griefs, the Soys,
Just hinted in ihi< mimic page?
The trnmiphs and defeat of boys
Are but repeated in our age;
I'd say your woes were not less keen.
Your hopes mors vain than those of men;
Your pangs or pleasures of fifteen
At forty-five played o'er again.
I'd say we suffer and we strive
Not less nor more as men than boys;
With grizzbd beards a: forty-five;
"As erst at twelve in corduroys:
And if, in time otsacred youth.
We learned at home to love and pray.
Pray Heaven that early love and truth
2lay never wholly pass away.
And in the world, as in the school,
Td say how fate may change and shift?
The prize be sometimes with the fool.
The race not always to the swift;
.The strong may yield, the good may fall.
The ?rreac mac be a vulgar clown?
Tbe knave be lifted over ail.
The kir.d east pitilessly down.
Who knows the inscrutable design?
Blessed oe He who took and gavel
Why sliould your mother, Charles, not mino,
l?e weep?n;:at her darling's grave?
We bow to Heaven that willed it so.
That darkly rules the fate of ali,
Tha? s<-nds the respite or the blow,
That's free to give or to recali.
Tnis crowns Iiis feast with wine and wit.
Who brought him to that mirth and state?
ois betters; see. below him sit.
Or hunger hopeless at the gate.
Who hade the mud from Dives' wheel
To spurn the rags of Lazarus?
Come, brother, in that <iu?t we'll kneel.
Confess::ig Heaven, that, ruled It thus.
So each shall mourn; in life s advance,
Dear hopes; dear friends; untimely killed;
Shah grieve for many a forfeit chanco
Anti longing passion nafuifdled.
Ann-:::? whatever fate lie seat
Pray ? the heart may kindly slow.
Although the bea t with cares be beat
And whitened with the waiter snow.
Come wealth or want; come good or ill.
Let oid and young accept their part.
And br-A" oef?rs- !>!?? r.v. f-.-J vv??;
And bear it with an i.-.aett heart.
Who misses, or who whi? the prize,
Go, lose or conquer, as ycu can;
But if you faih or if you rise-.
Be each, pray God, a gentleman.
A gentleman, or oid or young!
(Dear kihdiy with my humble lays)
Tb-.- sacred chorus first was sung
Upon the firs: of Christmas days;
The shepherds heard i: overhead.
The joyful an^r's raised it then;
Glory to Heaven on high, it said.
And peace on earth to gentle men..
>Jy song, save this. :s little worth;
1 lay trie weary, pen ?is:de,
And wish you '. alth. and love and mirth,
As fits the solemn Chris: mast ide,?
As fits tiie holy Cnristinas birth.
Be this. friends, our carol still
Be peace on earth., be peace on earth.
To men of gentle will.
Willia?i ." - XaiCKtaAT.
TUE HAPPIEST MOMENT.
how it CaME to TI?E GUESTS C'f a CHRIST
MAS pa til Y.
Honor, aged 00, and her Aunt Margaret,
aged 33 and uiiiJiarried.einaiuiair.ed them
selves by keeping a morning school for young
ladies in Paradise row, one of the back
streets of Camden Town, London; which
consists of ten mean little houses. Aunt Mar
garet was the daughter of the rector of Bray
ieigh. and Honor was her sisters child. The
sister had married an artist, and she and" lier
husband; both died when Honor was a mero
baby. Her aunt and grandfather had edu
cated her. Soon after tbe lector's death tao
two ladies were impoverished by the failure
of the bank which contained their little store
of wealth. So the school was opened, and
they got on fairly well, enjoy big their md?
pendence,?although noi in receipt o? a very
premising income.
Honor had an uncle?her fathers 1--other?
the rich Mr. Bryson, who, although he gave
them no financial aid, always invited his
niece and her aunt to spend the holidays at
his house. As tho Christmas o? iiC2 drew
near the two impoverished gentlewomen be
gan to fix over thcir'bits of finery in the ex
pectation of the usual n?s??, to Uncle Brysons.
Instead of the .anticipated invitation, they re
ceived & very polite note from Uncle B. say
ing that ''the coming so far must have always
been a tax upon them." and therefore he
"would not again press the invitation.1' 11"
softened the blow witls a chock for i'.::, his
best wishes and the compliments of the sea
son.
There was a-reason "* this beyond what
the_t-wo disappointed i;< lies could dream of.
The Brysons had a raarriageabio daughter:
and there was a certain Sir ivi .vnrd Dasart
who, they thought, was about to :.:?<?]?.???? t-.
lier, and Aunt Bryson had discovered tha?
Sonor was much toohan-lsotr.*1 an 1 tttractivo
t!0have around when such an important pos
sibility was pending; andSir J?d v. u'd was tv
Wea Christmas guest. Aunt Margaret had
fondly dreamed that Sir Edward cared for
SSOnor; whom had ipefc m ? ? than <>:;:.? at
Whc?? Brysons; Bui. when she heard that he
was about to promos- to L :u-j-- Brysoiis
daughter A Mielia she, hoped thai Honor did
r.ot care for him.
The first impulse of Aunt Margaret and
Honor on receiving Uncle Brysou's check was
to send it back. Second though: persuaded
Vue:m to keep it and use every penny of it in
giviug te Christmas par*, y thenise.lves?not a
jutrty for tbe ri- '.r a;;<I pr ?- > -ruus, ;:?/.?? evozj
fortaeii ?nanria? equals; l ut a ? a;ty. for tbc
gbod am"; kind amon?; t!.-v .??.?!.! < ,: >, the in
habitants of fc*:u*a<Vise '- ?'?\ ?;:. ,*??!?. souls; to
whom t?ii pleasures were . :;'??.
They took Mr. T:. dmon !, the : ? mml-:;,; of
ibe new church it; their district'-, ;:;'?* \'?,?
r?ri deuce, ano he v.:?_?: greatly i?.?:??}????>;??:'. i:;
rhc plan, and prourised to help rn he
could. He v.-as :'{??? o?Iy friend th ? ? ivo ladit.-s
tadmadesince they went to Baradi^ row
to whom they could say anything :j1jouI tl?-ir
jrast lives. He often l'.>olted in l- :< Uiyir:
after their day's r/oj k was ?>???:?.?, r.-:d ;'? s: e:n.-i
piali] to Aunt Margare; '..' ? ' '? .?. .-,:?, cr- at :?..?
terest m Honor. S'jnvetimes .Aun! Margaret
suid to hers- if that'thi! mate!) woa!<i not bo
so ?iidusirabjo. lUgu be v.-a.- .?? vvidow?r^
with a grcAvn-up thtughtcr, a-td :v 'ittie U)o
?ld for H?in ?:.
They had a busy time preparing for tc?
feast. They f?t in duly bound u.-p-mi ev_ry
penny of the money: In addition to the sup
per; every guest was to have a. present, and
several sick enes were to hav? presents sent
them. They called in "Old Nanni.;" to help
the inaici of all work got the feast ready, and,
in her language; the house soon "smelt as
good as a cook shop." Old Nannie was to be
one of the guests of the Christmas party. She
had been in charge of the guardians of the
poor;: .but had managed to have her :"low
anccs" sent to her lowly iodgingx. and never
got into the dreaded '"house," where the poor
arc taken in the last extremity.
Among the oilier important guests were
the 'little tailor and his wife," "Sally's grand
! mother/' "Johnny and his mother." and the
; "poor lodger." Sally's grandmother was in
; the receipt cf. parish relief. The -poor
lodger," as the neighbors called him-, was a
young man about whom no one knew any
more than that he did not appear to have a
friend in the world, and ihat he had been S?
desperate need, having just-struggled through
a long illness in an attic of a house whore
lodged Johnny and his mother. The latter,
a sailors widow, only just contrived to keep
body and soul together by working for the
city warehouses; and the little tailor and his
wife got their living by patching and botch
ing for people as poor as themselves.
Although every one else jested about the
little tailor and his wife clinging to the belief
that they would again see their son, who had
gone abroad to seek his fortune, and had not
been beard of for years, Honor did not. The
belief helped them to bear their privations
better than they might otherwise have done,
she thought.
And there was Grace Fairlfe, the national
school mistress, a gentlewoman, who had been
quite alone in the world since her mother's
death; and peer little Annie, the drunken
cobblers daughter, and the good natured old
soldier, with the bullet In his leg, who helped
everybody. The ladies wore almost afraid
they would be obliged to send a separate in
vitation to the bullet, it was such an impor
tant factor in the old man's life.
Then, there was Mrs. Pamell, who was
"genteel." They were uncertain whether she
would come, for, although sue had now the
recommendation of being poor and lonei3r,
she prided herself upon having -once moved
in a different sphere." She talked of her
father having been an agent for something or
somebody, and alluded to her late husband's
'avocations" in a way which, if slightly in
definite, bad its effect in Paradise row. She
thought a great deal about keeping up the
"distinction of classes," and the proper ob
servances of etiquette; and she told Aunt
Margaret that .she had serious doubts as to
whether she could call upon her and Honor,
until shy heard they had a piano and taught
Pre?en.
Nobody refused, and by 5 o'clock on Christ
mas afternoon they had everything prepared.
It was cold Christmas weather, so the cur
tains were drawn, a bright fire was burning
in every room, chairs and couches, hired for
the occasion from the broker round the
corner, -wore plentiful, and Honor's piano
forte at the further end of the sitting room
opened ready for use. There was a certain
fitness even in the hired furniture. The
smail settee? for the little tailor and his wife:
the faded, crimson easy chair?so fitting a j
throne for gentility?for Mrs. rarnc-ii: the
: big, high shouldered on?, so admirably
! adapted for the po^r lodger, who, rumor said,
? did not like to be looked at: the pretty little
lounge full of dimples, with a stool at its
feet, for Johnnie and his mother; the old
fashioned one wiUrthe cushions for Nannie:
and the straight backed one with the aims
for the old soldier: they all seemed to have
been specially designed to suit the diifercat
idiosyncrades of the guests. I
MKS. A 2 D? THJS EAST CHaTR.
Mrs. ParneJ] was the first to arrive.
She entered the room with a very grand
air, and in fall dress, as it had benn in vogue
some thirty years previously, wearing an elab
orate turbai', hsad dress, an Adelaide colored
satin gown, white gloves and a gold spangled
fan, all a little faded and worn and soiled,
but showing that Mrs. Pamell considered
that she had come to an orthodox evening
T>art3' and understood what was expected on
such occasions.
Honor hurriedly conducted her to the seat
of honor, explaining that she felr, it so kind
of her to come and help them entertain their
guests, who were for the most part people in
humble life.
Mrs. Pamell looked rather disagreeably; sur
prised and drew bersel* up a little haughtily
fy.r moment. But she had only time to say
that, although sue had not been accustomed \
to mix witfi her inferiors, she had no objec- :
I tion to do so for once, and under the cirCurri- ;
? stane-'; of being invited to asrist in entertain- j
j ing the good people, when, after a little seuf- j
! ??ii?g in the passage, the door opened, and, j
i assisted by a friendly push from Sally, old j
Nannie entered the room.
To figure as une of the guests 'or whom she
hud helped to prepar? was just atHrst loo
much for cid ZST?nriie's philosophy. There was
certainly a great contrast between Mrs. Par
nell in her faded grandeur and Nannie in her
short, scant, well worn merino gown, her
plain muslin cap, her sleeves too short to
cover h> v bony wrists and her bands bearing
witness.to aIbfe of toil. Her only prepara
tions for company seemed to have been that j
of turijing down her cuffs, '.vbi?;h were usually ;
turned :?p. putting on an old fashioned calar :
with a friil rcwltmg to h?r thin sh?inders; j
and pinned on awry, with a brooch o? Cani !
den Town emeralds and 'diamonds -purchased I
tor her by Sally in honor o? The <.<v:,.-h>i,.
So Tar aII.was going ?.?:? propitiously; and !
:;?/>????.? :? Wits NinVi.ie is?lw?ed i?ito her com- i
f?rtal.J? chair by the fire in tbc bar!: room, I
where she sat with a band plant--d upon each |
knee, and h-r eyes tnrr:.ed coirip'aiv?.tlyto- '
\vard the w-dl spread table^than iTv* little \
tc?lo?' and his v. ife?:?.?-ili:, r of them md;-l;
more ?han ir.? feet high - . ??:-.? ushered in. j
Tb'- pi v->ty, ?air usire i school mist?vs*, in ?
? ??<?;.? : "?.:: :'.??^. was welcomed, ami u?'-r her '
' ;t:.;.' J?..Vi?ny and bis mother. N?j -';;>? .?.?.? ??,
?? flunk -f raliba: heranyihir.;; If.::.-?, .di:.v*s !
moti.er. " VV;:h thorn --aj.-io !??? "\
]'->\?? .** .?;:? ?:??:! not Kvi; c:?si!\ i-1-?..?--?-.I t?? :
accep? tbe invitation, and who was 1<?"!.,:;;;
very d - bt fa' mai reserved, . ?? ? on :?.?? d?
fe?isiv-e. so\ > sx-T'.k. as though ?l.eir moiiVe
.'..'.-.?.. ?,{ t 1; ?jViite civ'ar to l?lm.
?'.u? H<?n<.)?".?. diplomatie little ?? ??. v.hJeh ;
han an ? - ?:? ; .<v well . |;?i tbc others, .?> ? -- :
f'. sn<?'.?? ? ? with bim also; ; any rale, so far
^disarming his suspicions went, in replvb*.'
bowed p.\v. \vjrh a tew nords abb>Li bisesti
laatibn ??;* the privilege o? ?x-ing allowed V->
assist Miss '. '?. y--.<?: ili any way ;Ot: i;, was
enough to show that he was :? gei il !--m;m. b;..;
lie not. evidently weak as be was. and appre
ciati-vt: of the voinfortable .-hair assigned t-> '
him, so courteously endeavored r ) ? I-?--! i r>'^ it
in fayor of others. The threadbare < :?>?!!? ;;
which., bung so Joose?j al>ouJ bis tali, guunt
fraine contrasted pifceously witii bis dl.-<- ?
tiiiguislied beaj'irig." At t.b?- worn- ti?no there
wjvs no trace in his countenance. w}d< h v.*a?
that of a refined thinker, of air. viee wb?rh
might have brought him sod?w .?" ?he sc.-'-ia!
fcal- aj tj dc-iirc 4j ?.y^cin tb-_* '
miserable attic of one o* the meanest houses
in tbe street, where the most poverty j
Stricken gave him tbe name of the "poor
lodger." "
The little tailor's.aside to his wife: ' Thein
was swell clothes once, mother, and nothl ?
will get the gentleman out of them any more
than it ?.vili oat of him." showed that others
thought as I did.
Then came the old soldier, brisk and neat
and upright as a soldier with a bullet in bis
leg could bo expected to be. Everything
.about him. from his clear, keen gray eyes to
his carefully brushed and mended clothes and
well polished boot1?, bearing witness to a hie
v? discipline. By tbe hand be led Annie, the
little motherless girl, whose father, the
drunken cobbler, lived in the same house
with him. He had done what he could for
her in the way of adornment, brushing the
beautiful golden hair and tying it up with a
piece of string into a funny little knob at the i
top of her bead, brightly polishing her poor,
shabby boots, and presenting her with a gay
pictured pocket handkerchief to carry in her
hand ; and he had paid respect to the season
by pinning a few holly berries in the front of
her thin, worn frock.
As they entered the room she bung back,
clinging nervously to him, and looking as
scaled as though site expected she was going
to be beateli. Honor bad some difficulty in
inducing her to loose her protectors hand and
teke the stool provided for her in a warm
comer near the fire. When she at length sat
down she shrank timidly against the wali, as
though only desirous to escape notice.
Ail felt that little Annie needed sympathy
and kindness more than did any guest there,
if tbe soul was lo be kept much longer in tho
great mournful eyes. Most pitiful of all was
the old look in the pinched, white face. Suo
seemed to roirard us with a kind of calm in
dulgence, as grown-up children playing at
life, (.?1 she had long seen tho sad real
ity of.
All weilt well, and with music and chatting
tbe time was spent very happily until 9
o'clock. Then, before the queer company
was seated around the table, Honor proposed
that each one ro?ate the history of the hap
piest moment of bis life.
The happiest moment! There was a puz- ?
zled,-half doubtful expression in some of the i
faces as thought traveled back inte the past; j
but it presently disappeared, and there was a I
smile mere or less expansive upon everyone's j
face. Even the poor bxiger had a reticent j
smile upon his lips, as lie turned his eyes med- |
itati vei}' toward the lire.
Johnnie led olt'. He admitted without
shame that the happiest moment of his life
was v.-hen he bad been invited to the party,
and Sally had assured him that there would
bo ah the turkey, mince pie and pudding that
he could eat. His mother blushed over bis
very materialistic idea of happiness. Her
own story was this: "I think the very hap
piest moment I have ever had was when the
manager at the warehouse promised to give
me a shilling a dozen extra for making tho
shirts, for," she added, icoking round with a |
deprecatory little smile, as though to apolo- :
gize for the homeliness of the cause of her I
happy moment, ''growing boys are a'niost j
always hungry."
Mrs. Parnell. when called upon to relate
her story, coughed meditatively behind her j
fan for a moment or two, and then gracious- 1
ly said that tbe happiest moment of her life i
was when she danced with Lord Langlar.d at ?
the tenantry ball, when she was just IS.
Grace Fairbe and Honor had some difficulty j
in keeping their countenances as they ex- j
changed glances. Sven the ''poor lodger'
was evincing some sigi is of having once known !
how to laugh. But the others appeared suffi- |
cient?y impressed to satisfy Mrs. Parnell, had I
she had any misgivings upon the point. She !
was gazing complacently into tbe fire. She j
bad simply related a fact, and was too much |
absorbed in the pleasant recollections it had
called up to notice any one's face.
Oid Nannie- thought the greatest amount ;
of bliss she ever experienced was when she
outwitted the poor guardians and got her
"'Icwanco out 'stead of going into the house."
The. old soldier dcscrilied how a feeling
that his mother w-ss near him pulling him
awny ?rom a trench dining a battle, gave
hire his happiest moment, i>ocause just as he
was fairly out a shell burst in tbe trench and
he knew that he had beer, saved from certain j
death by the watchful spirit of his dead !
mother.
"But why didn't you have another dream ?
to tell you to put your leg out of tbe way i
when the bullet was coming?" as.ced Johnnie, j
:*I chose to take it into tbe way, my lad,"
somewhat absently replied James Brocks;
'besides, that did me no hurt."
"Ko hurt to be shot?"
"Well, my boy, there's different ways of
being huit, as perhaps you'll find out as you
get older. I'd had my lesson, you see. and
didn't need to be taught over again/'
"But ain't you going to teli us how you got
the bullet in your leg.*" persisted Johnnie.
"You didn't have that through tho dream?"
"Well, I got shot while I was fetching out
a young"? He paused, ruffling up his
scanty hair. "But I am no hand at telling
them sort of things. It isn't for me to say
why - I'm a bit proud of the outlet I carry
about with me, ladies and gentlemen. Perhaps
il wiii be enough if I say that it brought- me
this," touching the cross upon bis breast, and
rather shyly adding: "It was a French offi
cer that was saved, an only so::''?here
he gazed afar off dreamily and cut short his
story.
The "poor lodger," when asked to toh his
story, begged to be excused fora little longer,
and gave way to Sail}', who, after some
stammering, said, in high delight, glar.eing
shyly round:
'It was inst night, then. He met me fetch
ing the supper beer, and ho said, he'd got
enough saved for a tidy bit of furniture, and
a little put by for a rainy day. as '.veli as reg
ular work, so there was no call to wait.''
Everybody congratular.-,-! Salir, and Aunt
Margaret said that he ought to have been
invited, at which, amidsi- a merry laugh from
ail, Sally, with a very red ?-ice. .-aiti: ?'
isn't so far elf as he couldn't be found by
supper time, it' you please, ma'am. He said ?
SO?nethh?g about being somewhere handy, to
see if he could be of any use in bringing tip
tbe trays and sue!: like."
fil ^ f? I^L
l\M:%
ihk !.<?:.?; Ars:-;:.-; sore at ;ns m.-.tuuus |
FT. et. j
Ti-..- litri? tailor. Mr. Peebles, was Then ?
ea'l-d upon t-> !;: : story. "Wei], ir' i ?
must, 1 must." be said: "but f'm it j
. .i:bm?:kr-rb.Mi-d^nsa bit vain when i Ml j
i :??? ?o ;..?. -.; s- -st ;;.? :;?.-f.f wa> !
lia; .;.,:.'? wh :?. wo was 'ser.-.aging' tose?; the :
wnuiiuii-'U-..' and su? suid <uv\l soon.-: a ?
deai :?.i\> < . ? lak- care of i<- " than St.ev*i i
?acuso!:: tor L-iurve was well to d > in tin* ;
work! .<?: up toi- himself, with a borse :?:?: .
Cartd.i?d. rdi .'oinp.iet?.-, m t-? ?- ;?.? ? vi: grocery j
l?ii?; .?: ?o. ..>:> :? u'ian. ?.? wnsa betr^ i rigare, j
o? a man ' ? !<*.?;. ai. too, for it's 1??? usu ;>? ;
Irving to make belirveas ! was eve: so han. |
SUM':; as she ' bought me."
Mrs. IV? bas. was next lo sperm; 1
Jii-' ;> Sa dy beckoned Rokot onr-o? the ?
!.?-.? . aiid when sl.o re-entered, wid<-!> she I
.p..! ?? '.1rs '.?.?:.?!>?- began lo talk, fitere i
was a if "i: hi " face u ibng that soiuethsng ?
;.,.:?,.,:.?.. had happened; Sie-mit her hand on i
r,h' :?.? ?:.?? a dini'.vas ifLto Aeady herself, aiul i
sain : "Mrs !'ecb;es,;I tinnir there issoi.icbody \
her?' vvbo ? an ' < il your story lor you."
'Ph.. :;::',? ..;?!: ;? rose. will-, his eyes shifting !
f>< his 1:end und bis faceras whitens tho
.!...??,-! Mrs. Pei-iiles gasped, hut could not
:?.'<. u>c led following Honor into the room ?
?.?.*' '-.?.,,; looking vonna Ulan with '
frank blue eyes, brown Ipar?i and bronzed
face?their own Tom. the long hoped for.
long absent son, who had returned on Christ
inas night, exactly as absent sons frequently
do in boo?cs. but very rarely in real life. He
fell on hin knees l>efore Mrs. Peebles, sobbing
in her lap, while the little tailor was wildly
shaking hands with everybody. The happi
est moment had romo for all three of the
Peebles family. Their . . cry had told itself.
Grace Fairiie, the little schoolmistress,
said: "I am obliged to acknowledge that I
ow<- the happiest moments 1 have ever expe
rienced to the receipt of a letter that came
to me one da}' when ? was terribly in need
of the help it brought." Over the poor
lodger s face stole an expression of almost
angelic joy. but only Aunt Margaret noticeli
it.
SAD faced little 2.
Tber. tbey ail turned zo little Annie?feeble,
prematurely old, sad faced little Annie?who
sat gazing refiectiveiy into the fire and then
said: "i 'member once rather said he would
give me a worse hiding than ever when he
cime home, 'cau>e ? waited for him outside
the public, and when he come he fell asleep
and forgot to give it me. If that will do,
miss?"
Little Annie! Poor little Annie! How
could she know that this story which she told
so simply in so few words was the most pa
thetic that had ever been written?
Then it was Honors turn to talk. Shehad
just begun her story?a fairy story?when,
glancing up, her face expressed astonishment,
cciifusion and happiness, all in an instant.
There, standing in the door, unannounced,
was Sir Edward Dusart. Anyone who un
derstood the language of faces would know at
once by a glar.ee at Honor's that her happiest
moment had come; that her story, too, had
told itself, for only one thing could have
brought- Sir Edward Dusart to her from
Uncle Bryson's on that Christmas night. And
wasn't it curious that the scheming of the
Brysons to keen him ?rom again meeting
Honor had brought about tho very thing
they had tried to prevent? And isn't it al
ways so? Behind Sir Edward came Mr. Red
mond, who. after greeting everybody, said
something to Aunt Margaret which seemed
to make her face radiant and caused her to
tell the story of her happiest moment with
her eyes only. She it was, not Honor, who
had been the cause of ids visits there, and in
the fewest words possible on that Christmas
night he mace this plain to her; and later,
when addressing a few words of good will
and good wishes to ail before the curios
company rose from the table, he said this was
one of the happiest moments of his life.
But just after he and Sir Edward had be
come one of the company, Mr. "Williams, the
poor lodger, was seen making his way toward
the door holding his handkerchief up to bis
face. He was telling Sally to excuse him
her mistress, as a sudden attack of neuralgia
obliged hun to leave rather abruptly, when
Sir Edward Dusart caught sight of him, and
calied out: "Elston! is it? Why, Elsten,
old fellow, where on earth have you sprung
from:" The poor lodger utoved on toward the
door, making no answer. Sir Edward sprang
after him, and with his arm around his r.eek,
scheoi boy fashion, went with him into the
hall. YY hen they both returned Sir Edward
introduced the poor lodger as tho best friend
he ever had, and one of the best scholars of
his own university. The little company was
greatly astonished to learn that he wasn't
Mr. Vv'illiams at all, but Mr. Elston; but
they were still more astonished some weeks
later when they learned that he and Grace
Fairbe were married?they became engaged
that very night, and were married a? soon as
he was established as a lawyer. So his story,
also, was not told, but told itself.
The little tailor and his wife are as happy
as they could desire. Mrs. Pamoli is better
off now, and with Lady Dusart for her
friend, more ''genteel" and exeluM've than
ever. "When any one refers to that memor- j
able Christmas night she says there is an. ?
advantage to be derived from an occasional i
mixture of classes. James Brooks, the old
soldier, is in receipt of a pension, which, finds I
its way to him, he imagines, fron; France, !
and is a frequent visitor at the hall, where j
Sir Edward and Lad}' Dusart are always |
glad to welcome him, and to the Rectory. & \
mile away, where Mr. Redmond and Aunt '
Margaret are host and hostess. There ?s a j
pretty cottage ?n the village, of which j
Johnnie's mother is the mistress. There old
J??timVs last days were spent in comfort. !
Johnnie became a sailor lad: but after some: j
years of seafaring, came home and "settled I
down" in. the village with bis mother. Poor ?
little Annie. Not a;! the love and care of her |
kind friends could keep her lon?; with them. !
The tired iitf io soirit fled earl\' from a '.vorld j
which it found too cruel to linger in.
M. IsewvaX.
<
_ft-? /?^i^-^v-' "'.
???;? \ iV>:-V.'?~
vV/7 1 ,?V;
>n and --art';
i::n^ au*?.
M;
T??rcf" Viikv?s- on tn?i rir.nt Christmas
.'' i :.r;i :? ?_:?
VY'hob God created man lb: commanded
Mis au :? is to vi. it Hb:"-. ? '. earl?i u.\ i guiU??
Irin: in bi.: wavs, so {.hat be might bave a fore
man ...?. :ght afte:- s ?:? sani j *.\a i.? lue place of
( ?.?.-? in beavo:!, and ; ; row mg greeny of
-.vorldlv fruits? bc'm }>> '-jUanvl with ins
ueic:::i':s for the p-?ssts..; ; ci l.]w%?u; and
theguardianan els v.. p< among thenajclce*;
p,::? n?y>n ibestrOng o;^v.vss.*d Ilm w.-ak and
: io": from ?hem by torce to<- product of tir
io;'.. .Tusiii'o r->s.! up sorrowing, and, ?caying
-a;*-ir. ?b*w back t;> heave:'.. And when the
v.eak over?ame ilio strong 'wich treachery and
dereit, u:id ;:??'. from !??? by cunning what
:>.??>' tcarcd Jt> take I y force. Trulli rose up
so?ro'wdug. and.? caving earth, ilew back to
i'i-aven. Avid when the injured wont forth
to sia their mjurcrs, and crimsoned tho
piaiti wiih -\y ir brothers' blood, Peace rose
up sorroutng, end, having tho earth, fiew
back to heaven.
Tat's ca.cb bad act scared some good angel
from the world, until Forgiveness, tho most
boautifuVdf ad. alone remained bebind. And
when she heard Anger and Revenge whisper
darb. d:,edj in m?iXo ears, and counsel them
to repeat that bad been done to then:, she
rose up sorrowing and said:
"I wiil nor leave tbe earth. While my
sister angels wore here I might have rested
in my Fathers Wosom. for man needed mo
not; but now that they have fled, 1 will seek
to ma':..- man listen to my voice, telling him
that as he cherished forgiveness here, so that
f:-rgiveness will cherish himhereaftcr."
At that moment a new and most beautiful
star blateri in the heavens. It was tho star
of Berhlefcen? l'oh??iijg it Forgiveness
said, "Conoid, the light of tbe world. It
shiuee as a promise that I will ever dwell
upim the i-arth." And I*eace and Lo ve, re
penting, f?ew back and havo never smec loft
tbe ecrih. So the loveliest angeh; of heaven
came honie to the world on the iirst Christ
mas morning.
A MOTHER'S XMAS STORY.
Mother and I were sitting by the fire on
Christmas night. Twenty happy years we
had sjvent together, almost alone, for father
died before I knew him: and we had never
been rich, and were perhaps a little selfish,
for we loved each other so heartily that we
could scarcely sparo timo fror:? each other
for the few of cur own class whom wo came
; across*, who being better off than ourselves,
and holding themselves rather higher, seldom
; seemed to need our help or sympathy. Wo
had plenty of poorer neighbors whom we
loved and who loved us, but they in no way
interfered between us or mado tho happiness
wo felt in being together less complete. It
was only in the hist year that a new strong
interest had come into our lives, and this
Harry brought; and on 2iew Year s day he
and I were to be married. From the first
moment when he brought me home to mother,
having picked me up from the muddy pave
ment, where I had fallen bruised and helpless
in the midst of a crowd, she seemed to take
him into her heart, and never from that day
did she let one jealous feeling como between
her and me. Of course, she was to live wich
us; even Hairy could not have made a home
for me without her, and the only thing she
ever did which for the moment we thought
hard, was when, a week before, she had in
sisted ou Harry s going home for Christmas.
"Go to your father and mother, Harry, ar.d
leave Janet with me," she said. "You and
she hope to be together all your lives; givo us ?
old folks one more chance of feeling you all j
our own." And Harrv. with a look at nie to
see what I thought, ha. agreed.
"COME AND SIT h'EIUi, JANXTv'
S* that Christmas evening Mother and I ;
were alone There had been something in 1
mothers manner ali day which I con id not
not understand. She seemed to have some
thing on her mind. She was loving and ten
der to mc, so tender that I thought that no
one had ever had a mother i ike mine, and yet
sometimes when I spoke to her she scarcely
heard me. But we had a quiet, happy day?
we always were happy together?and late in
the evening mother sat down in her chair by
the fire and said:
"Come and sit here. Janet, on your little
stool, and put your head on my knee, I have
a story to tell you tonight.
"A story, mother dear? Ok, that is lovely,
like being a child again?"
"It is a true story, Janet, of your life and
mine I have never oared to teli is to you be
fore, but I am not afraid now?my child and
I have loved each other all these years?no, I
am not afraid."
?*What could you be afraid of, dear
mother
"You shall hear and judge," she said, put- j
ting her hands on my head, and then she be- j
gam "YFhen was ycuug, younger than you
are, i was engaged to be married. My home
was verjr unhappy, and when Andrew West
ern came and asked rno to marry him I was
ready to revere the ground ho trod upon, f?e
had been coming backward sad forward to
our house for somo timo on business with my
father, and I believe that from tho very first
day he saw my misery. Wo were?and to
my remembrance always had been?poor, bat
if I had boeri a boy my father would, have
possessed thousands a year. I never wondered
that co haled ?nt-, that my mother mourned !
and fretted from morning till night; they bad |
brought me up to feel guilty of a erime, and |
I did feel it in my inmost heart. It was no
marvel that, when And row asked mc- to marry
him, I looked upon him as an angel ot deliv
erance. I loved him wirb an iritensit;,' which
amazed and frightened him. It was in vain
he tried to make mc sol>cr and reasonable. It
was in vain be told mc ihat sueh worship was
wrong and foolish, that it gave him no happi
ness, while to me it must bring disappoint
ment. I could not listen, and at last i wear
ied him. He said little abont it after awhile,
but he went away, and once more my life was
desolate. Ho saia he would come back, but j
he never did. He* wrote to me often, kind. :
tender letters, but they chilled my heart; and.
then one day he wrote to toil me that it must
beali over between as: He Told me bow he
had striven to bold fast by bis oid love forme,
but be c'v.ld not; the mere eiTort pained, him,
the thought of my passionate devotion tilled
inn: with dread. He could never return such
love, bo could never endure to have it lav
ished upon, bini; once for ail ho would give i:
adoa'.h blow; when his .letter reached mo he
should l>o married.
"I had another lover them Janet, and I al
most ?ntoci him, but before many weeks were
over 1 became his wife. lie loved nie always,
but we quarreled. ? could not pretend to
lv.-e bini, and "he grew reckless; our home
was miserable, ami within a year bo died, i
was too id to know what happened for long
time after thai. Strange faces passed before
me, strango voices spoke kindly wwds of
pity, and once every day it seemed to me that
Andrew came and stood by my bed. When
at last I woke to reason ngain. you. were be- ?
side me. Oh, how I loved you! How pas- !
eionatrly ? loved you! You scorned to me to i
Ik? ail the world, and you saved my life:
"My husband lupi not loft p?o i:-, poverty. I j
ha^t r.o need to work, and 1 spent my whole ;
Jife,i:i watching ever you. 1 mad.- no friends, j
for 1 cared for none. I forgot the misoriesof
my father's heusc; I forgot :: } quarrels with
my-husband: ? forgot even my love for An
drew, ami was scarcely moved when i heard j
that death had visited hi-, homo as w.-?? as
mine, and that he was indeed desolare.-for his
wifeiiad died and left him childless. Three
happy years passed awa ahn- . without a
cloud. Von grew ar.d throve. Every-day
seemed to my delighted eyes toghe anew
chana, a new beauty to my treasure; and
then in live midst of my joy } ou ? ?! ill. Day
a::.? night, night and day, watched by your
bed?nay, Janet, give me no thanks; il was ?
selfish love! It was nil invaia that doctor \
and nurse argue.I with me. would not \
leave yon. It was fever and must- run its :
cours?, they said. If you should: recover, my
strength would be needed when you could
and call for me; but I wcuM not listen,
and one night as I sat beside -ou all the room
grew dark, and I knew no more. When I re
covered I could rot rise from my bed, but I
implored with passionate tears to be taken to
you. Then some one came forward and sat ;
down beside me and took my baud, and I saw j
that it was Andrew. It gave me no surprise
to see him there. I dimly remembered that I
had seemed to see him before ? ben. I was ill,
and for the moment h? presence calmed
" 'Mary,' he eaid, in his old, quiet tone, 'if
ycu do not do as roll you you ;viil die; andk
what ii more, the child wi'l dio too.'
"'[sprang up with a scream und struggled
to go to you. * My child, my child;-1 cried,
' -.She is net ycttr child?she is mine,' he
said, in that calm tone of truth which liad
never failed io convince me, and which now
pierced like a sword of ice into my heart
'Yss, sLa is mine! Listen.' ills quiet ores
controlled me, his quiet words sslxlned me.
'When you were very ill, dying, they
thought, my name was often on your lips,
and ? hey ^covered and sent for mo. Or. the
sanie day a child was born to caci: of us and
ray wife and your child died. 'Wo might
have hoped for her if her baby had lived,*
said the doctor; ami I gave my child to you.
Can you not boar what I have borner
M0b, Janet, my child, his words wore heal
ing, and the sorrow that from that hour I
tried to bear was taken from me!"
At first when mother ceased speaking, the
world, and lore, and life seemed* to me to be
blank and hollow, but in a few momento I
rose from my seat and kneeled at her knees.
"?b, mother, dear?my iatherr
"He died long ago. Janet, do you k>VQ
me?"
"Then, as we kissed each-other I knew that
in all our lives of happy love dear mother
and I had never been *c near together.
THE COMPLAINT OF SANTA CLAUS.
lue snow lies deep on the frozen irround.
And the Christinas n&ht u cold.
And I shftre before- the rime sc hear?
Can it be I an1, growjag old?
Long ago when the Christmas chhnc-e
yi&dit ?aarry thes tnidtifgrht
When the caroler?" cali ?db-u houses and hall,
And wassail und mirth rau high.
When the harlequin mummers reeled ?cd dance^
And the great yufc los: biazed bright:
When the wails wers grsen with, a summer sheen.
In holly c Dd yew b*d bjh:.;
When tbe faces of all, th:* young, the old.
Were bricmntrr vnih sparkling eh^er?
Aye, these ?vre the ibaes when ChrKtajascbiaee
Wore the merriest sounds of tbs year:
I snapped my ?hgers In Jack Frost's teeth.
While the snow was wavering down,
And the icicles hung from my beard I flung?
3iy beard that .vas then so brown:
And I wrapped mysrfi in my grizzly coat,
And lit my pipe with a coal
From ??ee?a's crest, where I stopped to rest.
On my way ?rom the Northern Pole.
My reindeers-O, th ?y wer t brisk and gay?
?-?y sledge, it could stand e pull;
My pack, tho' great, seemed a feather's weight,
No matter how crammed and full I
My heart it was stout in those good old days,
! And warm with an inward glee;
For I thought of the mirths of a thousand heana,
Where the little ones watched for me.
So I gathered my sweets from far and near,v
And I piled my eunnicgest toys
(Unheeding the sxrirls;, for the innocent giris,
And the rejt?ekjag, roguish boys.
But the times have sobered and changed since
then,
My merriment flags forlorn:
My beard ?s as white as on Christmas night
Of old was the Glastoa thorn.
Tho* my wrinfcled-up lips still hold the pipe, f
No longer the smoke-wreath curls;
Eut saddest to see, of sights for me? . *
My frolicsome boys and girls
Have grown so knowing, they dare to say?
Those protesters wise and small?
That all saints deceive, and theydon't belies
In a Santa Claus at ?U:
Ah, me! 'lisa fateful sound to hear;
"Tis gall in my wassail cup;
The darlings I've spoiled, so wrought fer cz?
toiled.
The children have given me up!
My bean Is broken. break my pipe.
And my tinkling team may go,
And bury my sledge on the trackless edge
Of the wastes of the Lapland snow.
Hy useless pack I win rung away,
And in Germany's forests hoar. ? ?'
From on icy steep I will plunge leagues deep*,
And never be heard of more.
S Mahgaest j. Puestos?
BEHAVIOR.
Whot Constitutes Good T?reedJng?Tlj*.
Choice cf Bridal C!fts.
The sending of bridal gifts requires dis
cretion and a knowledge of some points in
volved. A card should always go with the
gift, for if the presents are displayed the card
is laid on the gift to which it Udongs, or
placed with others on a card basket.
In making choice of gifts it must be re
membered 1 hat there are some a gentleman
may not send to a bride. There ran be no
catalogue of such things, but good sense will
suggest whether ar.3' article is appropriate or
not. For instance, would a pair of ivory
backed hair brushes be appropriate? Most
assuredly not. Indeed, it would be hardly
appropriate for a man to send any article of
wearing apparel, or anything that may be
used with the toilet, though perhaps there
might, in some cases, be exceptions to this
rale, considering tho articles and the inti
macy of the sender.
Unless you are on terms of intimacy, or a
relative, gifts should be chosen rather for
their ornamental than their useful qualities.
A vase or a picture is far more in taste from
a comparative stranger than would be a table
article or a piece of jewelry. These are ap
propriate for relatives.
Askiajr One to ltepeat.
The conventional methods of asking c.:e to
repeat what has been said and not heard
seem to vary with the times. The eminently
polite, method of saying, *I ??eg your pardon,7*
has crept into use during the hist ten years.
This means that you teg the speakers pardon
for not having attende !. But if the speaker
has spoken so indistinctly that no ordinary
listener could catch, tho words, the speaker
and not the listener should make the apology;
The polite world has always been troubled
to frame a proper method of askmg for a.
repetition, without being s::ccw*ifu?
^WTtatr is too short and harsh. "How;" is
execrable. The best method is to adopt the
conventional method of tho times, which at
least has the merit or enabling otte to. as
similato and not be conspicuous for duTering
from others. _
Withdrawing Backwards.
In retiring from arcom after vfcntmgdsdies;
the most common practice among well bred
people seems to be to retire with the face
towards tue persons in tho room until reach
ing the door. But this is cuite inconvenient
when the distance is long. A painful sight is
to see a bashful man try to back out of a room
and smash some delicate and valuable article
hi doing so, from not having eyes in the back
of his head. A hostess would iuf?mtcly. prefer
to have a guest turn his back for a part of tho
way to having her bric-a-brac demolished.
Conform to OJfftors;
After all true politeness consists inconform
ing so Car as possiblo to the habits of others.
Persons have been known, when silting atibo
table with a host or a guest, to cat wiih tho
knife rather than offend a companion by
shewing a sttperior good breeding when tho
companion used the knife in this manner.
This is going a tritio too far, but the error is
in the right direction.
Nice CoSce Witaoat JJvr^r*.
Make small sack of cheese cloth, put in
smali tabtcspoonfui for each cup of coffee,
need not tie the sack, put in the pot. and pour
a pint of cold water on it. Set this en in the
mOn ug and let it come to a boil, then fill up
as you wish with hot water. Turn sack
wrong side oat after breakfast, rinse and dry
for next time.
Salt and IVppcr.
Mittens are knit Jersey pattern, alternate
plain and seam stitch.
Pick up cod fish it: good sized pieces, soak
it, roll in Cour and fry in butter.
Bitter tonics, as gamine, should be- taken
half an hour before meals; iron, oils and
e-id* after eating that they may bo digested
with the food.
Very pretty picture frames aro rn-uK
simply cf rough pine boards giidod, ?a '
rougher the bettor.
The London Caterer says tbjt game bird*
should always be Uung by the neck and iiofc ?
by the feet as is the common practix.