Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 40, Decatur, Adams County, 21 December 1894 — Page 7

§T. NiCK’S DILEMMA. A sky full of snowflakes, all fluffy and white, Just bom up in cloudland, came fluttering down To muffle the sound of the swift reindeer’s flight, As Bt. Nicholas drove o’er the roofs of the town. Be picked out the moment when every one slept; Untied a big bundle and bnsled about. Down chifflneys, up Are escapes softly he crept; When he came, how he went, not a soul could find out In the wee baby hose he put rattles and rings, A pipe and a pouch In tho big wooden sock, He left in the gray one a score of nice things. Then the fine silk embroidered one gave him a shock. He fumbled a locket of just the right size To bold tho vignette of a handsome young man, Then toyed with a brilliant that dazzled hie eyes, & Then down In the bundle to rummage began. A ring and a bracelet, a locket and chain, ■ For the girl flu de slecle too prosy he thought, And he Angered the dainty silk stockings again And feared that for this not a thing had be brought Then all of a sudden his little red face Lit np with a smile like the jolly full moon’s, As he noticed a photograph close to the place, And he dropped in a couple of souvenir spoons. •-James Clarence Harvey.

THE RAG CAT. When Tom Strahan's Aunt Biddy gave him a Christmas present of a cat, she did not know that she was bestowing a life preserver upon her nephew. But that is just what she was doing. Tom Strahan was an infant of 2% years at tip’time, but such an infant! He looked as if two ordinary babies had been into one. His arms were large and -qMund and chubby, and his legs were so stout and plump. His eyes were of a moist Irish blue like his father's, and Tommy was a brave, sturdy little man it he was a baby. Tommy dearly loved a cat. Now a live cat is rather a dangerous plaything for a very young child. Even the sweetest tempered cat when it is lifted from off the floor by one of its legs will expostulate, and it will do it with its disengaged claws. So Aunt Biddy, who could never do . enough for her brother John’s child, I bought Tom a beautiful cat which couldI n't scratch. It was made of cloth and

HE UTTERED A GACKLE OF DELIGHT AND~RANFOR IT.

stuffed with hay. But its sides and face were painted so like a real cat that Tommy hardly felt that it was only a rag cat. Hebecame fond of it. He liked it even better than his toy locofnotive, and he naturally liked that, for his father was an engine driver. If you asked Tom where his daddy's place was in the “choo-choo” he would thrust his stout fingers into the window of the cab. He had seen his father there many a time when engine 22 swung around the curve on the home trip. The rag cat was really Tom’s delight. He would clutch it by the neck and carry it around with him, and when he was put to bed at night he had the cat with him. With all the mauling of it the poor cat got very much out of shape, and her head was Quite limp and thin where the stuffing had worked down into her body. But Tom did not seem to notice that his pet had gone off any in his good looks; he would grasp the poor old thin head and lug it around with the most faithful affection. Aunt Biddy’s habit was to take Tom out for a walk down to the curve when I engine 22 came thundering around with Johnny Strahan, Tom’s father, in the cab. Johnny was always on the lookout there, and when he saw the pair he would send off a screaming whistle and wave his hands. And Tom would stand as straight as a little soldier and look at the great iron horse that his daddy drove. One summer afternoon, as it got to 4 o’clock, Biddy said: “Come, Tom boy, we will go down to the curve and see daddy and the ‘choo-choo.’ ” She put Tom’s hat on him, and Tom walked over to the corner and got the cat, and gripped it by the neck, and they started off. They arrived at the curve about ten i minutes before ”22’’ was due. It was a I pleasant day and the river ran noiselessly I along down below, while the grass and I the flowers were all in their glory. As they were walking along enjoying it all, Aunt Biddy saw that her shoestring had J come untied. She turned and let go Tom’s hand, and put her foot up on a 9 stone and fixed the string in a good stout knot. She double-knotted it, in fact. Just then she heard the rumble pt “22" tearing along on the other side of the curve with the long train of coal cars which it was pulling from Harrisburg. They always waited on this side of the curve, because it was exciting to first hear it, and then see it dash around the curve into view, with daddy at the window of the cab on the lookout for them. There was a nice level stretch of ground near the track, too, just at that point, and ■ that is where Biddy and Tom used to station themselves, at several yards from the track? C When Biddy turned round she never came so near fainting in her whole life as she did then. For what she saw was Tom on'the track with his back to the engipe, tagging away jt a wild flower

THE WiLj> LET’ H'im Die. \ •• - z ft 'll

vhich grew between the sleepers. It had caught his eye and he had made for it while Biddy was tying her shoe. Engine No. 22 was rounding the curve. Whether daddy was at the window or not Biddy couldn’t tell, for her eyes were on Tom and her knees shaking so. The distance between the curve and the small boy with his red dress on the track was not enough to bring the engine to a standstill, and Biddy knew she couldn’t

get there in time to snatch him away, and then she saw the old limp cloth cat lying in front of her, where Tom had dropped it to go for the flower. An inspiration seized her. She grasped it, and, shrieking, “Tom, kitty, poor kitty,” threw it toward him. He heard her and he saw the darling old fl!t drop some yards away, and he uttered a cackle of delight and ran for it. Just as he clutched it in his hands engine No, 22 tore by and the wind of it rolled Tom over. Daddy had seen that red spot on the

THE FIN DE SIEGLE SANTA CLAUS. Away with Old-Fashioned Notions—This Is Young America’s Conception of Saint Nick Up to Date.

track, and he had nearly dropped out of the cab as he had realized it all. As soon as he could pull up he rushed back, and there was poor Biddy as white as a sheet and~po weak she could not stir. T Btit Tom, who had not been hurt at all by the roll, was on his feet holding out the [darling old cat to his father. The way daddy whipped him up into his arms and kissed him was a great surprise far Top),. Apd then daddy, kissed the cat

that had saved his boy’s life. That rag cat is a sacred object in the Strahan household to this day. It had to be sewed up or its head would have fallen off its poor body and all the hay would have come out. But it is the most beautiful creature in the world to the Strahans. They would not part with it for its weight in gold.—Chicago Inter Ocean. HANG UP BABY'S STOCKING. Hang up the baby’s stocking. Be sure you don’t forget, The dear little dimpled darling! She never saw Christmas yet; But I told her all about it, And she opened her Mg blue eyes, And I’m sure she understands it. She looks so funny and wise. . Why, flanta wouldn’t be looking I knew what will do for tibe baby, I’ve thought of the very best plan, I'll borrow a stocking of grandma— The largest that ever I can; And you’ll hang It by mine, dear mother, Right here in the corner, so, And write a letter to Santa, And fasten it on to the toe. Write: “This is the baby’s stocking, That hangs in the corner here. You never have seen her, Santa, For she only came this year; And she’s just the blessedest baby! And now, before you go, Just cram her stocking with goodies, From the top clean down to the toe.’’ CHRISTMAS IN BETHLEHEM. Services at the Manger Where Christ Was Born. During Christmas week Bethlehem, the birthplace of Christ, is perhaps the most picturesque and attractive place in the world. It is crowded with pilgrims from all lands, the bulk of whom live in tents—all attracted by the desire of worshiping at the manger where the Nazarene was born. The services in the Church of the Nativity are kept up during an entire

week \and are most impressive. The church ibspne of the oldest structures in existence, it has been repeatedly repaireo'H. still retains much of its original form and character. In the side aisles, at different altars, priests chant the servicejin tones that swell and die amidjiie~tall columns that sup-poet-tirS root At the shrines groups of pilgrims kneel ip reverent adoration, while still other

groups are guided around the church by monks, who point out tovihem the rich relics and sacred places, the most venerated of all being the Shrine of the Manger, beneath the church, which, it is claimed, incloses the actual birthplace of the Savior. During the Christmas festivities this manger shrine is resorted to by great multitudes who crowd each other in their pious eagerness to kiss the marble slab on the floor, with a silver star in the center. So fervid and enthusiastic are these worshipers that the marble slab has been repeatedly kissed away in places, rendering a new slab necessary. A few feet distant from the manger is the chapel of the magi, where the wise men of old, Melchior, Caspar and Balthasar, came worshiping with rare gifts from the East. ’kneeling pilgrims listen spellbound to the melodious chant of the sacred office or the full, sturdy, noble singing of the grand-looking bearded priests. The low roof, the “living rock,” the censers, the music, the lights all seem to dissolve, apd in their stead there appears to the moist eyes of the adoring pilgrims, the manger cradle, with the Babe, the Virgin mother and Joseph, the mean surroundings, the oxen and their litter of straw and the gentle, wondering sheen. Through the mists of centuries there rises up before them the old khan, then known as “the house Chim Ham,” over which tfie star hung in heaven, and in a nook of which the Savior was born, there being “no room at the inn.” These pilgrims are a strange-looking lot. Some few wear the silk hat of Western civilization, but the turban and fez predominate. Camped on the stony ground of the hillside, among the few scattering olive.trees, gnarled and twisted with age, they frequently have a time of it fighting the fierce sun, even in December. As the hour for striking tettts approaches the scene grows more exciting. Arabs on camels or horseback, with long, Damascus guns and shot pouches; sore-eyed Syrian natives on donkeys or afoot; men and women in European dress; Russians, long-coated and invariably bearded; smart Germans with a military bearing; Greek priests from the Volga; self-complacent English and easygoing Americans; all mingle in the bright, moving kaleidoscope. Having seen the sights, listened to the music in the chapel and the prayers at the manger, and paid their reverent homage, they now regard their pilgrimage as accomplished and are eager to return. <TO THE OLD YEAR. Dear Old Year, before you go In your ear I’d whisper low Something I would have you know. Never to my feelings blind, You’ve been tender, gentle, kind, Faithful, with a steady mind. And I've found you always true, All the time I’ve been with you, When you’re gone what shall I do? Still In you I live, believe, And I will not Idly grieve. So much of yourself you’ll leave. All the blessings fulbof light. Coming every day and night. Gladdening the soul and sight. All the blessings in disguise That I took with tear-dlmmed eyes, Breathing out to you my sighs. As in pictures I shall see Everything you brought to mh. * That I might the happier be. Dear Old Year, I would be gay; And it’s never been my way Sorrowful good-bys to say. But I softly whisper this: \ Take my last word, my last klsS? Dear Old Year, It’s you I miss, —Rosalia Vandewater. u A Christmas Don’t, “John,” said Mrs. Wildspruce, with affected nonchalance, “do you smoke strong OT mild cigars?” "Um!” responded Mr. Wildspruce, speaking with marked emphasis, “after December 25 I intend to give up smoking altogether.”—Chicago Record. That’s Enough. There leas than 300 pure-blooded J;

THE OLD YEAR’S RECORD. __ES, fold it down—another page Is added to your mKIi book of (life; 71HH A page of heartache /Ty'y and of tcArs, / * ZwIML;, Os worldly toll and /FrSgwV'worldly strife, / crooked lines ajnd blotted words, aSL~>v Wherein you failed Wy, to read aright «• ' The task —n you to read 4 And follow with your ablest might. A misspelled sentence here and there, A cruel thought, a selfish deed, • Have changed the text, and marred the pqge Whereon you wrote that all might read. A feeble yearning for the right, A love for the applause of men, > Have traced these crooked lines you see, And spoiled the efforts of your pen. Some strokes there are stand clear As steadily you strove to guide Your feeble baud In tracing them; While in strong contrast, just beside, Are faltering strokes and wavering curves. Where evil passions held their sway. And swept, with unrelenting hand. Your spirit o’er for many a day. , And many lines are dim and blurred, Where sorrow marked you for its own. Where tears have blistered many a word; • And fainter still the lines have grown, i Till, almost lost, again they leave A firmer Imprint on the page, k As through the gloom a mighty Love A Shines forth, each sorrow to assuage, j Yes, fold It down. Another page, As white and fair, Is waiting now; r Beware how carelessly you write Unchanging lines upon its brow; And trust the page whereon you gaze With keen regret, to One above Who reads, on blurred and blotted lines, Our misspelled words, with eyes of love. —Mary Morrison. The Real Santa Claus. For centuries a great injustice has been done children. They have been taught to believe that Santa Claus is a jolly old man, with a long beard. As a matter of fact Santa Claus is a plain, tired woman, who sits up nights to dress the dolls children find in their stockings. She is anxious and worn. The money she spends to delight the children is begrudged by her cross husband occasionally, but she feels repaid if the children are happy. And all she gets is praise for Santa Claus, who didn’t have a thing to do with it. Let justice be done. Unmask the fat, little bearded hypocrite and install in his place as a Christmas divinity the mother of every household in the land.—Atchison Globe. Day to Be Remembered. Christmas should be a day well remembered by Americans. On Christmas, 1775, Gen. Montgomery reviewed his little force before making the attack on Quebec, in which he lost his life, and by the unsuccess of which the patriots were disheartened. It was on Christmas day that Washington gained the victory of Trenton—a victory that turned the tide of war in favpr of our fathers. A few years later the surrender at Yorktown of ' fanftXis-'amah'’trying Vo Biiy'a'lThns?mas present for a woman. He knows in a vague way that the present must not be a pair of suspenders or a shaving set, but when he comes to particularize the poor • map lapses into perfect imbecility, and gives his sister the money and tells.her to brty the present.—Boston Globe. —No matter how old Santa ?• • Comes down the narrow flue, He'll make his way In somehow— He’ll manage to squeeze through; Hang up the little stockings, He'll find, and fill them, too. £ . Unavailing Treachery. a tSLZ = =M iffl Mb mbOwSSs Johnny woke up just in time to uuderstand that his father was giving Santa Claus unfair hints. Johnny, by the way, was not the better behaved of the two brothers. I 1 a ' p At the same time, Johnny was cleve» enough to know a thing or two, and he changed the placards. . - (®ji ZL, H/**"* 4, ■ I B But morning proved that Santa Claus was a discriminating old fellow, Who couldn’t be misled’ _ ”

VALUE OF A VOTE. Historical Effects of a Single Ballot In Indiana. It Is seldom that the value and importance of a single vote are so forcibly illustrated as in.a historical case referred to in a campaign circular sent out before the late election by tho Democratic State central committee of Indiana. “After warning Democrats not to scratch congressional candidates, because the next House might elect the president, the cirular called attention to a most remarkable instance, when, in 1844, a single vote cast in Switzerland County, Indiana, caused the final admission of Texas into the Union David Kelso, the Democratic candidate for State Senator >n that county, was counsel, shortly before the election, for a young man accused of murdering a false friend who had betrayed him in a love affair. The prisoner, poor in purse, jyas acquitted, and swore to do All in his power to repay his attorney. On election day the young man Ivy ill, in bed suffering from a fever, and against the protests o.f his physician he had himself taken in a wagon to tho poll, two miles away. After voting for Kelso he was taken home, where ho died. The official count gave Kelso one majority. It devolved on the legislature to which Kelso was elected to choose a UnitedStatessenator. The Democrats had a meagre majority of the two branches. Tilman A. Howard, Whig, and Oliver Smith, Democrat, were the regular bolted the Democratic caucus amu announced that he would not vote for Smith under any circumstances. He brought oyer to his side another Democrat named Hoover, and for many days and weeks the balloting went on, always with this result: Howard, 74; Smith, 74; Hannigan, 2; 76 votes were necessary to elect. Edward A. Hannigan was a brilliant young lawyer, and Kelso selected him as his candidate without consulting him in the beginning of the long struggle. The greater the efforts to bring Kelso over to the Smith side the more stubborn ho became. Finally he announced that the farce had to end; that he would cast his vote for the Whigs if the Democrats did not come to terms. The Democratic caucus {was reconvened, and Hannigan was made the party candidate and was elected United States senator the following day. A fierce controversy took place in the United States Senate the nextyear over the admission of Texas into the Union. Het admission was finally secured by a majority of one vote, and, that one zvote was Cfist by by a dying man led ujj to the admission of Texas into the sisterhood of States. From this vote also the war between the United States and Mexico. Enduring Arctic Cold. A A correspondent writing from Fort Cudaby, Yukon River, N. W T., says: “I like this climate, and have better health than I have had in twenty years. The cold does not trouble me at all. 1 enjoy it. We had seventy degrees below zero last week, and I was out every day, so was everybody else. The two white women at this place take a ride with dogs and sleigh every day and enjoy it. The whole trick is knowing how to dress for the cold. The Eskimos have taught us. We dress as they do, and seventy degree? below don’t hurt us a bit. We have also learned* from them how to build houses to keep out the cold. You can’t do it in any way but as they do it. Even they, with their centuries of experiance and experiment, however, have not discovered a means by which to keep the cold from the cheeks and nose. Anj’ sort of covering to the face does not protect it. The moisture from the breath will cover everything it topches with "ice. and in a few*’ minutes the ice is worse than the frost in the air. If one could hold his breath, he would be nil right. The natives seldoingp far alone in cold weather. /WTfhXtwo together, each watches the facfT of the other, and with the first indication of freezing snow is rubbed on briskly and the frost is soon gone. There is no ger when the thermometer does not show more than forty degrees below, and there are not so many days of this kind in a winter that one need to expose himself at all then. It \ takes one winter to become acclimated. I felt the cold last winter some, but this winter I have not. This is the country for old men. There are more of them here than any place I ever saw, and it agrees with them.’’ —[Portland Oregonian. A Queer Mouse Catcher. — u A hen that catches mice and eats them is a novelty that has recently come to light in Kansas City, Mo. A widow, who lives in the outskirts of that city, is the owner of this hen with certain feline propensities. Recently the widow heard a commotion in the barnyard, and upon going to learn the cause of it, saw all the chickens and the roosters in a circle around the old hen, .but at a respectful distance. They were clucking loudly. The hen in the center was industriously pecking at an animated object. The woman saw that it was a mouse, and called her dog. But the hen, when she saw Fido coming. seized the mouse, which was yet alive, and swallowed it after two or three spasmodic gulps. She had been playing with it as a kitten would.— [San Francisco