Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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OrrisinKis Tt nee JAMES WfflTCOMB RIlfY ITTLE Mandy and her Me *8 poorest folks you ever sew! Lived In poorest house In town, the fence *us all tore down. Aud no frontdoor steps at all? 1M a' ok. boa g'lnst the wall; And no door-knob on the door Outside - My! but they *us poor! Wua no wlnder-abutters on. ? * some of the winders gone. And ?bore they 'us broke they'd pas'e lot brown paper 'orost the pluo*. Tell you! when it's winter there, And the snow 1st ever'*here, Little Mandy's Ma she sar ?Spec they'll freese to death some day. Wunst my Ma and Me?when we Be'n to church, end's geh ' to bo Chrtamas purty toon.- w? went Tbers Uk% the Committee sent And Sir! When we're in tho door, %m no carpet on the floor, And no flr* ? and basis?aid?bead Little Mandy's tuck ad In bad. And bar Ma tolVjd my Ma she Got no coffee but 1st fried mush? and's all they bad bar health broke down so Ma bug and bold mo where little Mandy's lay In' there; And she kiss her, too, and nea Mandy kiss my Ma again. Aad my Ma she teile/, her wo Ooln to bare a Chris'mus-Troo At the Sunday School, 'at's for AB the children, and for bar. Little Mandy think?nen she t< ly. "What is a Chrls'mus-Treer* Ken my Ma she Rived her Ma win' 'at I saw. And say she must take lt.?and She 1st maked her kosp her hand Wlte close shut, and nsn she kiss Her hand?shut 1st lko tt Is. Nen we corned away . And nen When its Chris'mus Vre sgaln. And all of ua chil derna be At the Church um! Chria'mu* T>ee??> Aad all git onr toys and tr tng* ?At old Santy Claus he brings And puts on the Tree;?wtte where flf big Tree 'us standlr here. the things 'us ail t ,- 'own, the chllderns. all 1 flat their presents??< e They ? a little Chris ? Wlte behind the big Tree Wo can't see till nen. you miow,? And It's all lat loaded down With the purtleat things In town! And the teacher *mll<- uid say: ?This hero Tree 'at's hid a- iv It's marked Little Mandy's Tree!' 1 "tie M a n d y 1 Where is she?" Nen nobody say a word Stillest place you erer heard! Till a man tiptoe up where Teachers' still waiting there. Wen the man he whispers, so 1st the Teacher bears, you know. Nen he tiptoe back and go Out the big door?ist as slow! Little Mandy. though she don't Answer?nnd Ma saV "?he won't Never though each year they 11 bo *LlttH Msndy'a Chrls mus Tree !' Fcr ? ? i '"i" c.v Ma says? Ar ' tee pay they guc*s ? "l. ,?? ? id> 'a Tree" 'till h? Hg. t ?; n r;.o other Tree! N e*sterdUOaj fctilp's Christmas <&reetma By EUGENIA RABBAS 1 I O I am a heartless flirt, who doesn't understand the rrreaning of Ulf word love, am I, Mr. William Dunning?'' ? atormed Murjorie all to herself, in answer to the flnil decree of rage and defiance which that k gentleman hurled at her P by means of a vigorous I slam of the front door. "I believe he would have shaken me, if he hadn't rushed out in time to prevent himself from doing tt," she continued, the ever ready dimples venturing out of their hiding places, but she banished them severely. "I'll never, never forgive him, even though he asks mo to, which of course, he won't! And he calls me stubborn!" Next morning Marjorlo was tremen? dously busy wrapping up dainty little parcels, for the next day was Christ? mas, and her many friends must bo remembered, in spite of quarrels and Billy. still, she seemed very much preoc? cupied over her work, and qul' 3 sud? denly she threw aside the pii~s ol holly she had been toying with, and fairly flew to the telephone. In answer to her impatient sum-' mons, she was quickly connected with Brown ft Co.'s book store. "Have you sent out those books that were order? ed for Mr. William Dunning?" sho ask? ed anxiously. i The answer evidently pleased her, for she breathed a sigh of relief. "That's all right; I'm glad you haven't, for I have changed my mind about them. Please cancel tho order." Marjorie bung up the receiver with an air of triumph. "There, I'm glad 1 thought of that! Billy would have construed a Christmas present into an abject apology," she said, her indig? nation rising at the very thought ol such a thing. i But when she went back to her par cols and picked up the little twig of holly she had intended tucking away into one of them, her face softened. "1 know that isn't the right kind of a Christmas spirit to have, but I can't have Billy thinking that I am admit? ting I was wrong, when I know I wasn't," sho argued with herself. The joyous ringing of Christmas bells and merry shouts of her younger sisters and brothers, when they dis? covered their stockings the next morn? ing, only served to emphasise her de? pression. "Billy never loved mo: if he really and truly did ho never could treat me like this," she told herself as she stood looking with unseeing eyes at the snowy Christmas world. Just then a young man, fairly tear? ing around the corner, arrested her at? tention, it was no less a person than Billy himself who was coming, post I haste, to see bor. 1 Marjorie looked at him in won? der. What had come over Billy? W'.jv thia sudden contrition, when, she admitted it now for the first time, even to herself she had been greatly, if not altogether, to blamo for their quarrel. "O, Hilly, I am so glad you came." Hilly t u)k some little time to empha? size hia appreciation of liar welcome .hen "Glad I came? Why wouldn't I come, dear?" he asked. "Because you vowed you wouldn't unless I ??rologlzed," Marjorie explain? ed mischievously. "You didn't think I'd be so narrow and unforgiving aa to ignore your dear little peace offering? I brought one of the books with me to read something to you," he told her, and diving into his pocket he produced a little copy of "Romeo and Juliet." Marjorie waa surprised for a second, then It flashed over her what it all rr# .nt. Brown & Co. had forgotten to c ucel her order and Billy had re? ceived the books. Hilly had construed her sending them Into a humble Idea for forgiveness. He most probanly wouldn't have come ,\t all If it hadn't been for that. She stiffened visibly and all her love *as swallowed up in a wave of rebel? lious pride. "You are mistaken," she commenced coldly, but Billy Interrupted her. Here. I have found it. " My l.ouuty Is as boundless a* tbg sea. My love as deep, the more I give to thee.' "The more I have, for both II 1ft* Malte," he was reading, and th<- simple beauty of the lines n voke soni'-ihing l Marjortf stronger than pffgg or re Bfjgtni i * ' ihf nty om?ed a/hen he . Idt d I '. !y Chrl tunn 'greet trig r ? praised too soon and t<>'. hltfhh \l . Cousin Mack . Ii Miel. u'?o cultivated u i reeiy. off-hnnd 0 %nr.er, had talked, from the daj ci her arrival at her sister 's home, of the necessity ol her calling upon her husband's cout-in, Collie Mach So she. with a party ot rour or ttve ot her relatives in various degrees, turned the headlights of their auto? mobile toward the exclusive village, or suburb, in which she telt convinced she would find* Collie Mack. She was still in the seventh heaven of self-righteousness when she was rudely recalled by the mundane curi? osity of the driver, who requested the street and number of her cousin. "Oh," she replied, airily, ''It's with some doctor, on Oak avenue, ?bout two blocks from the car line." Then she settled back to her fanclea once more. The driver scowled and turn??; the car around. He drove slowlv \xy &n(1 down Oak avenue, scanning tne abuses on both sides of the street wh?ln a radius of two blocks of every car track, but to no effect. Finally he gave it up. MWell, It ain't here," he remarked wltherlngly. "Why, perhaps It Isn't," genially re? sponded Mrs. Gregg. "I forgot that It must have been fifteen or twenty years ago that he lived here OH. and besides, It was his sister who lived with the doctor, and she was a trained nurse, so it might have been that she just had a case there. 1 don't suppose Collie Mack lived there at all. Wasn't that funny?" She thought a moment. "Haven't you people some idea of where to look?" she asked, glancing about ex? pectantly. "We might look In the city direc? tory," volunteered her sister. So the whole party got out at the nearest drug store and pored over the list of Macks. "There's no Collie Mack here, that's sure." asserted a mutineer. "Oh, but that's just a nickname," ex? plained Mrs. Qregg. "1 really don't know just what his name is. It be? gins with M or H, or perhaps it was W. I can't Yemember." "Ob, what's the use. anyway?" a nephew exclaimed disgustedly. "You don't know him and he doesn't know you, and what'U you miss If you don't ?ee him?" Mrs. Oregg looked at him reproach? fully and said nothing. "Here it Is," cried her brother-in law, excitedly. "Here's Martin Henry Worthlngton Mack! That's all the initials. They probably called him Collie because he'd take a whole col? umn." They excitedly viewed the name In turn. Mrs. Oregg smiled in conscious superiority. "Yes, of course, that's It,' she exclaimed. "My mind rarely falls to recall names.** So they climbed back into the car and broke the speed regulations get? ting to the address for fear Collie Mack might get away At the door Mrs Oregg took the lead She shook hands with the young girl who opened the door, exclaiming delightedfy: "Well, well! I'm Mrs. Gregg, and these are my sister* and my brother-in-law and my baby and a nephew. Is your father at home?" i Without waiting for a reply from the I stunned girl, she made for the stairs. I followed by her train of relatives. "1 never dreamed that he was mar? ried!" she exclaimed to the tittle worn- I an, who in a dazed way offered them chairs "And this big girl is your daughter! Well, well!" And she smiled with a friendly warmth which brought j no response from the hostess. Suddenly the door opened and a largo Scotchman stood In It a moment while he viewed his callers "I'm so glad to know you'" ex? claimed Mrs. Oregg as she hastened to greet him. And before she knew it she gave him a warm, cousinly kiss. | "My hushnnd. Dr. Gregg, has spoken ro much of you that I know you as j well as if 1 had always known you personally," declared Mrs. Uregg. j "Why didn't you let us know that you were married? Oh, pardon me; 1 for- ' got to Introduce you." And she turned |0 beam on her own party. I The boBt wore a pained and startled expression, but he bowed gravely. Mrs i Mack seemed to have been turned tc itOM I - I "How nice It is to meet relatives! Do sit down by me here and let us ! talk over old times!" Mrs. Gregg smiled bewltchingly up at the Scotch- J man "You know Catherine stayed with us for some months, and I grew to think so much of her. It was on account of her that I was simply wild to meet you. Where Is she now?" The face of the Scotchman was full of amazement. Mit Mack's eyes were fastened upon her husband In horror. Suddenly Mrs Gregg's soaring splr Its cane down to earth. She looked ?aerchingl? :it her new cousin She nlM. observed the wife's wordless ac? cusation i "Why -why?" sho began. "Isn't Catherine your sister? Don't you re n ember Dr Oregg? I?l think we've Blade some mistake." Then she looked reproachfully at her brother-in-law, 'M*m sorry to have troubled you." she iddod, "and I believe wed better go now " >? stop* snd led a dignified re t? .? '' icM l< sned over- the rail ) !" ? ii piciotiely as 1 or tor the the lights were erected on arch anta Claus* Crcasure Mot By J. F. HENDERSON Copyright, 19U HXISTMAS was at hand, and Philip Dra- i per's heart was heavy. For a number of years I he had seemed to be ! the particular pet of | misfortune. As an art- 1 ist his work displayed the magic touch of genius, and he was in a fair way to achieve fame and worldly suc? cess when the first of a bt~ies of calamities befell him. Soon after Philip's marriage to pretty Lu? cille Girard, his father failed in busi? ness and died within a month there? after, leaving nothing but a mass of debts as a legacy to his son. Philip, who had Just been taken into partnership with his father, and whose outlook on the future was tinged with the color of the rose, was crushed by this blow; but with a quixotic sense of duty he set himself the tremendous task of paying off the debts of the firm. To accomplish this he had noth? ing to depend upon but the sale of his pictures; yet, year ia and year out, he toiled on stubbornly and uncom? plainingly, while he and Lucille and their little hoy were deprived of many of the comforts of life that the bulk of his earnings might go to his credi? tors. The house in which they lived was a roomy old mansion on the out? skirts of tho city, left to Phillo by a maiden aunt, who had passed away since the death of his father, and which Lucille had persuaded him not to sell. This house, by the way, had originally belonged to an eccentric old sea captain, Jeremiah Suggs by name, who was reputed to be something of a miser, and who lived and died a re? cluse. The crowning calamity came to Philip Draper when the debt was all but cleared off. It was then he was overtaken by a wasting illness, which kept him confined to his bed for al? most a year, and leaving him desti? tute. The butcher and the baker threatened to deny him further credit, and his home was heavily mortgaged. The outlook was gloomy. "And tomorrow is Christmas," he re- j marked to his wife, with a grim smile. "Never mind, dear; let us hold fast to our courage," said Mrs. Draper, trying to speak cheerfully, though there was an ominous quaver in Rai voice. "What hurts me most Is the thought that Christmas Is so close at hand and that there will be no Santa Claus for Bobby." ' | "Poor, little dear!" jaid Mrs. Draper. Suddenly she started up with an anx? ious glance about the room. "I won? der where that child can be? I haven't seen him for at least, two hours." 'Oh, don't be alarmed. I dare say he is rummaging about in the cellar or attic or some out-of-the-way closet, I and is wholly absorbed in his investi? gations." I Mr. Draper had hardly finished speaking when Bobby popped into tho room, held out a grimy little fist md, as he opened Hie chubby fingers. revealed a twenty-dollar gold piece ly? ing on his upturned palm. I "Money!" gasped Philip. He snatch- i ed the coin and examined it critically, i "Where did you get this? What loos it mean?" "I found it in the attic!" explained Bobby. "There are lots more there. Come on. I'll show you where." The next moment the father and mother, each grasping a hand of the , frightened youngster, were hastening 1 up the stairs. When they reached the ', attic the whole astounding truth was laid bare to them. Bobby had been rummaging, as usual. Finding a loose brick in the crumbling masonry of the ; big chimney, he had pulled it out and made a startling discover; . j "I wanted to find out how Santa Haus comes down the chimney.' said the boy, regretfully. "I didn't mean ; to do any harm?" An exclamation from his father in? terrupted him. Philip, tearirg away tho bricks to enlarge the opening, had thrust his arm Into the cavity and drawn forth two small boxes, accom? panied by a shower of yellow coins. Among them was a scrap of paper on which was written: "I have no heirs, no Kith nor kin. This property ^ocs to the Under, and may he enjoy it. It consists of $50, D00 in gold and government bonds, and twice that amount in tfems. ".I KB KM 1AM BUGG8.M Bobby was th ? hero of thi h >ur, 1 snd the rejoicing thai followed may ? better be Imagined than described Was B a merry Christmas tor the j I i ip ?rs? Ask Bobb). w! o (irmly i> i \ '? t t'ouud Bantu ? * io" treasure the passenger station yard, for they a Discord Having liaxnxed tbe iront door vig? orously, Hate burst into thi library, ^vhere Mary and Janet were embroi? dering linen towels before the grate lire She threw her muff on the dav? enport at the other end of the library. Mopped her music roll down on the ta? ble and theu slid weakly into a big chair. "There are times," she began om? inously, "when I'd marry a Sioux In? dian, war paint and ill." "I heard of a girl?" Janet's tone was conciliatory "Everything's wrong." Kate was not to be stopped. "I hate a career. I loathe music. I hat*? the professor. I abominate my oi? No, I'll never say that, but I abhor Gounod for writ? ing Romeo and Juliet.' H**'u at the bottom of all this trouble." "Poor Gounod." said Mary. "What did?" "That's right. Sympathize with the old dead demon instead of me. No? body loves me!" "?Gracious!" Marv was moved out of her absorption in the careful turning of an "M." "What's the matter, child?" Kate was serious. "Is It nice to bo engaged, Molly? Do you feel as if you were in a harbor safe from the cold, unappreciative world?" Mary blushed, dropped the towel and smiled into the fire with an ab? stracted expression. Janet came to tbe rescue. "Some one called you on the phone?" "Well," interrupted Kate, quite ob? livious to Janet's voice, "I simply sail? ed over the first page of the 'Waltz Song;' you know I've practiced on those grace notes and thrills until my voice actually stutters when I try to sing straight. 'That,' the professor said, is good business/ Just think! 1 felt good clear down to the roots of my teeth. He said I looked as if I really wanted to dance, and you know my facial expression usually sets him wild?I always look too absorbed and serious." "If he could only see you now!" murmured Mary "Of course I was feeling tremendous? ly encouraged and then I got to that awful chromatic scale from A to A, and he made a dreadful discord on the piano and said I was off key, and I wasn t - wasn't! Wasn't!" Kate beat her gloves on the chair emphat? ically. "But I dldn"; tell him so abruptly. I Just remarked soothingly that cer? tain critics said Geraldine Farrar sang off key and stood with her toes in, and 1 didn't care if I did. Of course, j g rls, I do care, but I Just couldn't say so." "In the lull Mary made another at? tempt. "Poor child! Somebody tele? phoned?" "And then he exploded," sputtered Kate, "because he thinks Farrar's perfection. I cried spasmodically all the way home." Two big tears rolled down Kate's plump, flushed cheeks. Mary and Janet patted her, consigning the pro? fessor and all his works to realms unspeakable. "You're both ang?!s '' Kate sat up and rubbed her cheeks vigorously. "I've got to stop crying, because it's b-bad for my v-voice and I'm going to practice that old scale all night" Taking the hatpins from her hat, she added: "I don't mind never eat? ing candy or cake or pie or pickles or anything else '.hat's good and al? ways going to bed at nine o'clock and trotting out for an airing so many minutes every day to keef! my voice nice, but when he tells me that I'm off key?" She sat down at the piano and crash ed out a few chords ? If Billy Collins comes over to night, for goodnese' sake tell him I'm not at home, for Just as sure as he proposes I'll accept him." "Great idea!" Mary was enthusias? tic. It was her table linen to be that she and Janet were embroidering. Turning from the window toward Janet. Mary, with a surreptitious ges? ture, indicated Bill:' Collins swing? ing down the street. "By the way," said Mary, "Billy Col? lins phoned just before you came in that he was coming over to take you somewhere." "I won't go." Kate was quite de? termined. "I've got to practice that scale and, anyway, I might eatcb cold." ?Cold nothing! He's about to ring the door beil now. I'll lend you my hat with the red ro3.?s." Thi* was pure bribery. The bell gave a strident clang. Kite dived about for her belongings, re? marking meanwhile in a stage w his per: "I won t see him I won"; g) I won't! i won't!" Bui wlieo Mary came back from the ii or Kate smoothed her hair meekly and went in. Conversation never !an li.hed with Billy. "Get on your duds and come with ;re," he said. A few bars of the "Waltz Song" sounded on the piano. Through them . ime a rathei muffled, not too deter* Ined voice: "Thanks, but 1 r&q t I jiave to practice" Then live mitlitte-; later Kate came out, looking reluctantly Uay y "Where*" ? l>?' naked, "is t--?; t'crfoet* sweat hit with the rod r s?" have been taken down f?>r some vea Cht %ri?t By HARRY IRVING GREENE HERE was a time when Wallington had general? ly been conceded to be a brand new genius in the financial world?a marvelous being who could change stones into bread and serpents into fowl; then all at once he found himself in tho throes of bankruptcy. He had exhausted hie resources and was for the time being hopelessly insolvent. Day by day his little handful of re? maining change vanished in steadily diminishing ratio as his meals be? came cheaper and further apart, un? til finally he had but a dime left. This coin he resolved to save for some last and most desperate extremity, and be even determined to fast for days be? fore parting with it. And fa8t for days he did, while oft times the days came much too fast. When Christmas eve came he had not tasted food for three days. He felt that he could endure It no longer, that the last and moat desper? ate extremity had arrived and that now he must spend bis dime. He was plunged deep in meditation when he felt someone touch his arm and turned about. Beside him there stood a gaunt man with cavernous cheeks, feverish, wild ish eyes, and a stomach that curved the wrong way. The apparition ad? dressed him in a croaking voice. "For God's sake, stranger, buy me something to eat. I am penniless and upon the verge of committing crime. I have worn out my shoes looVing for work, and while I have a Job promised me it will be a week before it is open. And meanwhile I am starving, friend, starving. In the name of Christianity 8pare me enough for a meal out of your plenty." Wallington stared into the evening dusk as he fingered his last and smoothly worn dime. He knew well enough what this other man was suf? fering, for had he not been in the same stage twenty-four hours before! And to give a man a dime in a case was so grossly inadequate. Ye?" what could ho do? He turned about, j Close before him was a restaurant where he had spent hundreds of dol I lars in his palmy days and wiiose pro? prietor he knew well. Yet he owed a bill there for his last big after theater dinner party of many months ago, and he had never had the courage even in his semi-starvation to go in and ask for more credit. Yet now it must be i done, for here was a human being starving upon the streets. Wel? lington shuddered. It was plainly his duty to fill this man's stomach, and for the last time he would exert those powers of persuasion which once up? on a time few men had been able to resist. He took the stranger by the arm. "Come with me." he command? ed. They entered the restaurant and ATallington walked straight up to tho proprietor. "Hob," said he, "I owe you a pretty stiff blH, but I am going t*> n;o to work in a week and then I v be^in paying you off. Now I want j do me a last favor. I owe you I forty dollars, and a couple of < i s more won't make much differ * to you. It is Christmas eve and my friend over there is starving. Now I want you to fill him up to the chin on go"?d. solid food and charge it to me. I will not ask you for any favor again if you will do this last thing." The proprietor looked at his old pa? tron thoughtfully. "All right," he announced at length. "Being's its Christmas eve I'll take a chance on you even if you are down and out. Tell your friend to crr>r what he wants." So Wallington and ihe stranger 6at down together and Wallington watched his compel ion rill himself with good things untl at last with his stomach again curv< the right way. the droop gone from hi shoulders and the feverish light vi ished from his eyes, the gorged 01 arose. "My friend." said the stranger. "7 could not have endured it another day ?but of course you have never knoern . what it is to go two days without food. And when tonight you go home and sit down to your table to your feast, remember that there is an out? cast fellow being upon the streets wiefft Is blessing every mouthful that y*. eat. Good-by. Christian." Wallington held out his hand. "Good. b\. ) .? r and ; ?od luck to you. It* was a m< le tribe. Happy to hav^r Ine- able to give "ou a lift." tlsaH h?- ??]?.:? h houam? and coffee and sav. son.