Rensselaer Republican, Volume 22, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 December 1889 — Page 3

■ A BLACK CHRISTMAS. M Missy tote bk doaif be stuffin' Yore inside wid pie an’ cake; Kase you 11 shuly en’ you’ C’ris’mus B Wid a monstrous stummick ache. M “Cose,” she said, “I ain't dernyin Datde fixin’s irood an’ sweet; |M But you aks like it de lastes’ M Dal you ebber spec ter cat.” ■ Lan’ er goodness' es ter stuffin' u She doan’ need ter be erfraid ; Mfi 1 am skeered er consequences, M Dai’s sols why dat i wus made. Ml Pie! urn, lawdy! ’clar ter gracious M Pie dess litten ter my bef 1 ; Mt Dis de las’ piece ob fob quahtabs, M. So dey ain’ moah quahtabs let. M Cake an’ puddin’, nuts an' raisins, ■ Syllabub an’ sech—my eye! M Wen hit’s all done gone an’ eated, ■ Lan’ er goodness, lemme die. H Doan’ yon skeer erbout me, missy, ■ Jess you lef’ dis niggah be; SB Kase I ’spec my C’ris’mus stuffin’ Hu’ts you wuss’n hit do me. M Huh! you hab de mostes worrit Mt Wid yo’ own astonish’ self; M Kase you see de hole I’se makin’, ■ ■ s■, ; >>i' r-utiy she,

FANCY'S FLIGHT.

■ '■ . : . ■ M Kris Kingle. ■“Goody!” ■ itv r ?:nl r ?r . flu!;':.- went Mhiirlmg, floating, drifting. They festoonMi the branches of h shivering trees. N ”' ’ M'otes pie statuary, and over the streets ■ ret. lied the softest carpets. was prowling. Early that night ■>a he suit his messenger, Jack Frost, to Mdch in ini:,?t ns of silvery rime the adof the snow; and sure enough here it !■ - s |M.ralued on every side b.v shivering blares M his trumpet. Mil was Christmas Evo. a little golden hairded girl. Mood al the window gazing into the night. jMjr blue eyes alight with the happiness of ■gratified wish, and ner little fingers kept ■ ''i'. a merry n. eimmaniment. on the Mindo-.v as sue hummed in a sweet, childish M Kris Kinglc is coming, hi o—i o, M ■ Kris Kingle is coining, hi o—i o, and over, and over again. M And, even as she turned away from the |H inflow and sought her mamma and papa M< kws them -.mod uigrit the rhythm of Mini. in-lodio.H me isnrc adjusted itself to Mir footsteps; it followed her up the stairs; Mint:;; 1 he Inill: to tier bed room door. M Kris Kir./ie is coming, hi o-i o. M,' ' she cwmeu flor bedroom door, a Mood of delight ful warmth and light came Mog the lire so brightly aglow in the grate; Mien she dosed the door and was alone in Mpr own little room. M She looked toward the mantlepiece. Yes, Mien: it hung. Surely the little girl couldn’t Mea.r that large stocking. O, no; that was Mamma’s. But Santa Claus wouldn’t Mniid i Imt. she : nought; beside, she had ■ Mime once a year. M The firelight, with a tender touch, trans|M>rm«.;.: cur'-, i. . my‘ruddy [mid it Mnbraced her with a guardian kindliness fed upon her as a benediction as she Mnelt to say het- prayers. M“Oh God, bless papa and mamma and Minke JCstciilca good girl”—that was all, at M ast that was usually all her prayer, but M>-night she added: “And please tell Kris M.'inkle to send mamma and papa lots of presents,'’ and then—dear little Meart' reserving her request for the last. Ml want a new dolly, because the sawdust B> all out ot Dolly’s left leg, and a new sled, Mnd a fur muff, and please God tell Kris M. in ate to brill,'--O ”’ Estelle raised her ■ mm listened 1,, . lii.u ..y f . s wide with Mroodcring expectancy. There it was again M;nsiac, inilih, ,mw.i-liug'’ away off in the ■ istance—the sound of silvery sleigh-bells. Homing nearer and nearer. “Tinkle, tinkle, Hng-a-ling,” louder and louder. Ah! it is Hn the roof--at the chimney. “Whoa!” Mtiouted a merry voice. Estelle’s face Mc.amed with joy. She was not afraid. Her Hands, were clasped before her. and her Hyes are fastened upon the fireplace. ■'“See- a pair of fur clad legs appear, a Hound body, and at last a merry face with ■winkling, roguish eyes, and there upon the Heartii rug before her stood Kris Kingle. Mnd O! what, a pack he bore upon his ■boulders! Gifts for everybody, large and ■ mall dollies, hobby horses, sleds, drums, H*umpets -everything. ■ She paused lor one tremulous moment of M.csilaliou, and i hen running forward bold Hv clasped Kris Kingle about one of his fat Brms, and, although her little mind was full Hf questions and messages, all she said was H-“O !O ! O !!” Kris Kingle eyed the little Hirl with a startled, though kindly glance. ■ Well! well I” he exclaimed, “this is un- ■ sual, I must say, I can’t recollect anything Hf kind before.” And laying his chubby ■ and softly upon her golden hair, he asked: ■“And how docs it come this little girl is Hot fast asleep like other good girls?” B “O, but 1 have been a good girl,” exclaim■d Estelle; “and 1 didn’t think good people Hiccd be afraid of Kris Kingle.” ■ “Well, thciu. uiiiip truth fn that,” ac Hnowlcdged the jolly little fellow, “and Hou needn't be afraid of anybody else ■ither.” B "But tell me,” interrupted Estelle, “what ■iave you brought me?” and encouraged by His kindly glance she asked, “Have you a Holly that can roll its eyes and talk and Baugh and cry; a new sled, a fur muff, and Mots and lots of books?.” B “Ho, Hol” laughed Kris Kringle as he produced for the delighted child the articles ■he named—“what a greedy little girl It is! Bmything else?” B “O, yes; nuts and candies,” answered BCstolle. looking toward the stocking on tbo Biantelplece. 9 “Bless me,” said Kris Kringle, as he pre Bared to put the sweetmeats into the stockB'g 1 Can IL be that tills little girl wears Jhat big thing? Why, if I fill that what Brill the other ntUe girls in the neigbborBood do? Do you wear that!” B “No,” acknowledged Estelle, “it’s mamBia’s, but 1 don’t think you would mind, Because you only come once a year.” B The kindliest and friendliest of smiles in the Jolly old fellow’s eyes, ■ impled his cheeks, slipped in chuckles Brom bis bps, turned to contagious laughBer; then going to the mantel piece he filled ■he stocking with sweetmeats until it was Bull to running over. ~..v _ M “Now, little girl," ba said, “be careful Bot to make yourself sick: don’t try to eat Bil the candy at once. Goino now, haven’t Beu a kiss for an old chap like me!” M “O yes! dozens and dozens,” cried EsBelle. and pulling his face down to the level Bf hen she kissed him on tbo cheeks, the Bose, the lips, until he cried out, “There, ■here! that will do; you'll eat me presently. Now, good-bye,” and he started toward ■he firepUca, ■ “0, Krto Kringle I exclaimed the IltUa

girl, her eyes aglow with the light of unusual thought, “wait a moment; won’t you take me a-ndihg with you in your sleigh, and let me go down the chinmey with you? Please do.” “Well, did you ever’’’ exclaimed Kris Kingle; “what a funny little girl it is to be sure!—take you a riding in my sleigh—let me see, ” he added, reflectively. “Why not? We will be back long before morning, and—yes—come along. Here, put this over you.” And he drew from his pack a beautiful sealskin sacque. “It belongs to somebody else, but we will be here long before she will get it Now, wrap up warm —don’t be afraid,” and taking Estelle in his arms he weht to the fireplace. Up the chimney they flew—out on the roof and there stood the sleigh and reindeer of Kris Kingle. He placed Estelle snugly in the seat, and after tucking the heavy robe about her in warm graceful' folds, jumped in himself. “Gee up!” he cried, and with a merry jingle and clatter away they went It had stopped snowing; the moon was in the sky, millions of twinkling stars shone upon them, and their silvery light transformed the snowy crystals into innumerable sparkling gems. At last Kris Kingle directed the sleigh toward a dilapidated-looking- building; it stretched its dismal length skyward eleven stories, and like grim sentinels of a dungeon-keep five grimy chimneys stood in a row. r ~ There was no light in any of the windows, save here and there a straggling gleam, and from the chimneys no smoke escaped. “Whoa!” cried Kris Kingle, and obediently the reindeer checked their speed and came to a standstill upon the roof. “Come,” he said to Estelle, “do nbV be afraid; you will meet with no harm. Shut your eyes if you like;” and taking the little girl in his arms, who nestled to him with tightly closed eyes, he leaped from the sleigh, clambered to the chimney top, and lo! in a moment they had disappeared in its dark depths. “Now, dear,” said Kris Kingle, “you may open your eyes.” At first, she could see nothing. There was no light, uo fire, all was cold and cheerless; but presently, as her eyes became accustomed to the gloom she beheld a huddling heap in one corner of a miserable room, and next she discerned that it was three little children lying upon a wretched mattress on the floor, clinging together for the warmth of contact “Ol” said Estelle, sorrowfully, “how cold they are, poor, little dears!” “Hush!” whispered Kris Kingle, for at that moment one of the children spoke; “Sister, is oo told?” “Yes, very cold,” camo the answer in pitiful, shivering accents. “I wonder where papa is,” piped a faint little voice from a shuddering form lying between the two sisters, “an’ if be will tuui home drunk aden.” There was no answer, save a sob, which seemed to come from both of the older children, and two big tears dimmed Estelle’s blue eyes. “Sister,” again said the little one, “Ise doin’ to ask Dod to bwlng papa horhe, tause Ise so told,” and here a fit of . coughing interrupted the sweet, trembling voice. But the child, in a tremulous, tone, continued, “O, Dod, please send papa home tonight—don’t let him det drunk aden, an’ tell him to bwlng some fire tause we’s so ' told, O, so told—” There was a sound of a stifled sob; it came from neither the children, Kris Kingle or Estelle, but from the landing where, half hid in the deep shadow, stood a burly man weeping, his powerful frame shaken with emotion. He listened with bis ear close to the door, as over the broken transom came the pitiful plea of the child: “And, Dod, please tell Kris Kingle to dive us some twismus difts—l wants a hobby-horse an’ 'tory book; an’ dive -Molly a new dolly wif dwessos, an’ hat an’ shoes, and Dod dive Mary a dolly, too, wif wed hair and blue eyes, and dive us all some Are so we tan dit warm—an’— an’—dood night Dod,” and then overcome by shivering, the littleone snuggled closely between his weeping sisters. The door opened slowly. The man entered and approached the poor children, now sleeping the fitful sleep of the hungry and exhausted. He knelt beside them. Alas! they had but little over them to shelter from cold; and all that was pitiful seemed to dwoll in their pinched faces in mute appeal The tears had scarcely dried upon ; their cheeks; but as he gazed upon them, i the child sleeping between his sisters, smill ed, O! so sorrowfully, in his dreams, and ■ his lips appeared to repeat that plaintive plea, “Dod bress papa.” He raised his hands in the air. “Please God,” he said solemnly, “from this night forward I will never touch another drop of liquor. God help me to keep my word.” And O, it seemed to Estelle that two little tear-drops came to her eyes, and through their sorrowful prison she beheld a sudden glory. There i was a sound of heavenly music, and down , from the starry sky in the cheerless room, ! on steps of light, flitted innumberable I angels, and before a holy presence in dim 1 distance knelt a penitent soul—a forgiving hand is laid upon it in a benediction—while on every side the thrilling music of Heaven sounded a paean of triumph. Too penitent looked up. “O,” cried Estelle to Kris Kingle, “It is the children’s i father;” then as suddenly as it came the I beautiful vision disappeared, and as they looked toward the bed the man arose, a new light in his face, and he said, as he buttoned up his coat closely about him, "Dear little ones, you shall have your Christmas—hobby-horse, dollies, fire and all,” and sobbing he left the room. “O, Kris Kingle,” said the little girl, “let me give them something,” and going toward I the bed she placed, with all the resignation of a sorrowful parting In her sweet face, the little dolly that Kris Kingle had given bor, on the mattress beside the sleeping children. Then she returned to Kris Kingle, who placed his bands gently on her golden curls, and smiled so brightly that her eyes beamed with responsive cheerfulness. “Come," said Kris Kingle, “we have other places to go,” and taking Estelle by the hand he led her through the hal I and, gently pushing aside the opnosito door, they entered a dismal -looking room. There was no light save that of the moon, which sifted drearily though the grimy window glass. no fire, all was cold and cheerless, and over in the remotest corner on a miserable bed lay a poor, emaciated woman. Her eyes were sunken and her face was so thin that the shrunken skin adhered in pitiful creases between the knuckles » “Or' whispered Estelle, “what is the matter with her!” "She is starving,” answered Kris Kringle; "she has had nothing to eat since—bark!” T here was a sound of fapldly approaching foots tons, of heavy breathing; the door was pushed quickly open and a panting man entered the room. | “Ned, is that you!” gasped the woman

from the bed; “and did yo-yop get anything to eat! ’ wife; there, '-OKCTt,’Mm<I Seslarted across the room to give her a loaf of bread he had concealed under his wretched coat But he paused midway. He heard footsteps in the passage- He tossed the loaf to the bed, and returning quickly to the door put his shoulders against it resisting with his might the efforts of some one outside to open it But in vain; gradually but surely the door swung inward till, with a cry of rage, the weary man ceased struggling, and turned to meet a burly police officer who entered. “Ah, ha!” exclaimed the official, “so I have you; come, now, where’s that bread you prigged from the baker’s? I saw you.” And going forward he grasped the trembling man by the arm. From the bed the poor woman looked with startled eyes upon the struggle. One thin hand clasped the miserable loaf, while she held the other appealingly to her unhappy husband. The fury of a hunted fugitive, desperate with wrong and hunger, was in the captive man’s eyes. He struck at the officer again and again, but the big policeman was too strong for him, and finally held both arms in a powerful grasp. •Ned!” The poor woman cried, as she half raised herself from the bed. “Ned—” there was an ominous rattle in her throat, her eyes grew fixed. “Ne—ned,” she gasped once more, then fell back rigid. - “See,” cried the struggling man, furiously, “see, she is dead,” and breaking away from the grasp of the officer, he started forward toward the bed; but alas! before he reached it fell prostrate. The officer bent forward and looked into his face. “Thunderation!” he exclaimed, he has fainted. This is a bad night’s work.” Then going to the bed, he gazed upon the woman’s face, and started back with a cry of alarm—she was dead. “01” sobbed Estelle, “take me away, Kris Kingle, please do.” “Wait,” he whispered, pointing upward, “look!” As before, a sudden glory filled the room; there was the same bewildering avenue of light, and on both sides of it endless rows of celestial beings flitted to and fro, and between them, moving toward a holy presence in the dim distance, was a happy soul just liberated from its earthly imprisonment. “O!” exclaimed Estelle, as she gazed from the set face of the dead "woman to that of the happy spirit, “it is the woman’s soul!”

“Yes,” said Kris Kingle, solemnly, “her troubles are over ; she will hunger no more; but come!" he added quickly, and softly b.v the kneeling official, aud the unconscious man, they reached the dodr, and going through tho hall to the room they hud first entered, paused by the chimney, and Kris Kingle took Estelle in his arms. “Shut your eyes, dear.” he said, and whiz!—when she opened them again they were snugly seated in the sleigh. Kris Kingle cracked his whip and with a merry “Hio!” that almost obliterated the memory of the sad occurrences below, off they went through the moonlight, over the tools, and far away. “Kris Kingle!” said Estelle, “please take me home; I don’t want to see any more sorrow to-night” “All right, my dear,” aswered Kris Kingle, “but before we return I want you to come with mo and see a little boy whose Christmas will soon come to him.” “Where is he!” asked Estelle. In answer Kris Kingle directed his flying reindeer toward a large building. The windows were all alight, and there were shadows of moving figures flitting across the blinds. “Whoa!” The sleigh came to a standstill, and Kris Kingle, taking the little girl in his arms, leaped to the roof, clambered to a tall chimney, and in a moment the big fur cap and the little golden head disappeared in its depths. When the little girl again opened her eyes they stood in a long low room; on both sides ot it little cots were arranged, and on each lay a childish form. Here and there a pale face looked toward tne ceiling; some were sleeping, some with flushed cheeks tossing their little arms about, and on one or two of the beds lay little ones with arms and heads bandaged. “Kris Kingle,” asked Estelle, “what place is this?” “It is the children’s hospital,” he answered. “But won’t they see us!” “No,” answered Kris Kringle; “I have provided against that" Ladies were moving from cot to cot, their faces alight with the beauty of a tender sympathy. To some of the little suffer ers they gave flowers; to others, toys, dollies, trumpets, books; and over each bed a snrig of holly was Usd. ■ , ‘-.'//"j“Ab I” There came a startled exclamation from one of the nurses bending over a little cot and all the ladies and several kindly-faced gentlemen hurried in that direction, “.Come," said Kris Kringle; then taking Estelle in his arms he carried her to the bedside. There lay a little newsboy. Estelle had often seen the poor little fellow on the streets, but his cheery volpe was bushed, and his eyes were dim; over his pinched face the shadow of death was creeping and one maimed hand was raised in the air, held softly by the nurse “How do you feel, my dear?’’ asked one of the ladies with tearful eyes. “O,” gasped the little boy, “1 am so—tired—but the parson said that es—es I'ud hold my band up— tha—that G—God would see it, an’ when He cum here to-night—He ’ud hold It an* take me home” “And doos my little friend feel happy!” asked a kindly-faced gentleman, kneeling beside him. - “O. y—yes," Whispered the little fellow, “God has —ha—” the litUe head fell back

upon the pillow; the plaintive voice wa» hushed forever, and as the nurse sofllj drew the eyelids over the slightless eyes, the gentleman kneeling by the cot finished the sentence that the poor little sufferei had began as he.said .“God has come.” And Kris Kingle whispered to Estelle, who hid her sorrowful face upon Ms shoulders and sobbed. “See, dear, Johnny's Christmas has come.’’ Audio! as she raised her eyes the room had disappeared—the beautiful ladies, the kindly gentlemen. A flood of light spread everywhere. Once more she saw the angels, and once more up the avenue of light went a happy soul. “O!" cried Estelle, “it is Johnny! 1 am so glad—so glad!” Yes; it was Johnny; a beautiful angel led him by the hand through that glorious multitude. His face was light and happy, and see, his hand was no longer maimed, his little voico joins in the sweet song that fills the Heavens; there was a twinkle of stars, the gleam of moonlight, a celestial glamour and glory; then it all faded away, and the little girl, hiding her face on her kindly guardian’s shoulder, sobbed and said, “O, I am so glad, so glad!” Wonderful! W hen she opened her eyes she found herself in the sleigh once more. They flew through the silvery moonlight: over the housetops; up to breathless heights; down startling depths; and ther with a “Hi!” and “Hullo!” a crack of ths long whip, the jingle and clatter of nierrj bells, up, up over the cathedral spire, thet down the sides of night faster than the pursuing wind, till just as the faintest o blending gray announced approachin; morn, the sleigh stopped on a roof, am Kris Kingle, leaping therefrom, took hci once more in hie arms. Down the etiimnej they went, and then the little girl laughec with delight, for she stood ones more in he> own room. “Now, good-bye, dear,” said Kris Kinglc “remember what you have seen—think ii all your pleasures that there are other who suffer—little girls who get cuffs aw bruises instead of dollies—and poor boy whose only Christmas is a crust. Think c them, too, and yon will never be selfish an cannot help being happy. Now, one fan well kiss.” “O, good-bye, dear old Kris Kingle,” e> claimed the little girl—and she was alom Estelle never exactly understood how i was, but there was a sound of chimin; bells, the blare of noisy trumpets in th streets below, the hubbub of frolic am holiday and she—why she was snug in he own little bed. “This is funny,” sh thought; then she looked toward the fire place. “O!” there was the big stockin; full to overflowing, and on the floor, direct ly beneath it, a new dolly and a muff, ani what picture books ! “Dear, good Kris Kingle!” she said. Anc jumping from bed she knelt again b.v th< fireside and asked God to help her to be t good girl, and to “bless papa and mamma and —everybody.” And it was in this position that hei mamma fouild her, as she came to wak< her little Estelle to the joys and festivities of the Christmas Day. And I know if thi: little girl could say what is in her heart, il would be “A merry, merry Christmas U you all, and a happy New Year."

THE AMERICAN HOME.

It is a Wonderful Affair, When Contrasted With Foreign Homes. Nothing strikes an observing American upon his first visit to Europe with greater force than the lack of thost conveniences in the dwellings of ever the wealthiest classes which in hit own Country are considered indispensable necessities. We are quick tt seize upon the latest discoveries ii science and the arts which can in anj way render our homes more attracLive, or the cares of housekeeping les. burdensome, while the mare conserva tive Europeans are content to live as their fathers did before them, anc would consider it a sacrilegious ex travagance to tear up the floors oi walls of their dwellings for the pur pose of introducing steam or waler pipes. The climite of England if damp and cold, the almost uni versal way of warming is by open fire places of soft? coal, which usu Jly d a velop much more- smoke thsrn heat Hot air or steam furnaces are practi cally unknown, and the only means o heating railway carriages is by cans o hot water placed upon the floor. Unde' favorable circumstances, these wil sometimes prevent the soles of one’; feet from freezing but their influencr rarely extends. A modern American house, with al the recent improvements, is a mos wonderful affair, and an inspectior while being constructed gives one t good idea oi the extent to which th« arts and sciences are applied to minis ter to our comfort. The space betweei the walls is crowded With tubes anc pipes of every description. Steam gas. hot and cold water are carried t< i all parts of the building, speaking ' tubes and ventilating shafts are con ; nected with every room, while grea I cables of insulated wire as large as i ship’s hawser illustrate the manifolc uses to which electricity may be put Call bells, automatic gas lighting anc incandescent lamps are., only a few o these applications, and the day is no far distant when some simple fqrm o electric motor to run the sewing machine and furnish a supply of powet for many other purposes wilVbe fount in every first-class dwelling. As re gards sanitary and drainage arrange ments, their construction has become a science in itself. Take it altogether the American householder has n< cause to regret his lot A recem writer has said that in some things we are measurably behind the Europeans but in many things we are immeasura bly ahead of them, and in no respect ii this more true than in our domestb arrangements. It may be safely sai< that there is not a royal pal ice in al Great Britain or furope which is at luxurious, or even as comfortable ai the house of the average American o moderate means, and in no country ic the world is the greatest blessing a life —a happy and comfortable home--80 readily within the reach of all—at 1 in our own land.—Popular Scientist News.

It's Growiag Better.

England’s criminal record cofitra diets the statement that the world 1 continually growing worse. Statistio in England give a notable decrease h the convict population during the las twenty years. Last year the tota nutnber of 'convicts under sentenci of penal servitude in England wa 6,405. Twenty years ago the num ber was 11,600.

THE OWLS' CHRISTMAS.

BY LURA LEE.

fhere was an old owl, and he lived in a tree, A Christmas tree, if you please; Lnd seven small owlets his children were, Nimble and merry as bees; 3ut very complaining and gruff were they Che day that came just before Christmas Day, For not a gift, if you please. ’Huh”’ Ind “Hal” and Humph!” they growled; “A nice state of things, if you please: ilot-a present nor a bit of fun, While father snoozes at ease. ’apa, wake up! What of Christmas Day! lan’t we go out and tave a play Under the Christmas trees!” father he blinked, but he chuckled outright. Then got out his pocket-knife keen, Ind whittled seven pairs of tiny skates, The tiniest ever seen. With holly leaves he tied them secure, knd rolled up seven tippeis of snow soft and pure. And put them on, if you please. ?e gave each for a cane an icicle long, And took them all adown to the lake; Where the ice was smooth, and glassy, aad strong— No danger that it would break— Ind said, “You can skate, and run, and dance, And tumble, play tag, and stumble, and pranoe. All day and all night, if you please.” 5o that was their Christmas. Snug in bed, And awfully tired that night. Issie owlets slept, and never woke up Till Morning, but woke in affright What do you think! The tree was ent down Without waking an owl and town, And set up In a house, if you please. There it was lighted and trimmed and bedecked, And the nest at the top of the tree;. . ?reaents below and a merry crowd Laughing ana romping with glee, Ind there Mr. Owl and his family were kept, \nd petted and fed till the children slept, Chen out to the home grove they all were swept. And that was their Christmas Day.

A TIMELY TALE

Told on Christmas Eve by the Old Clock Most Feelingly.

then it looked right at the jumpingtack and asked: “Why haven’t you Bfone to sleep, too?” “I’m waiting for Santa Claus,” answered the jumping-jack, “n “Waiting for Santa Claus,” laughed the old clock; why, you don’t suppose that Santa Claus is going to bring you anything, do you?” “I need it 4 bad enough,” said the jumping-jack; “I fell into the washbasin three weeks ago and by the time i was pulled out and dried I lost all the beautiful red stripes and yellow buttons off my coat, and this left eye of mine faded from a lovely purple into a dirty lavender. I have been the oickest jumping-jack in town ever since.” “Ob, phsaw!” said the old clock; “handsome is that handsome does; tick-tock! tick-feck!” “But I shall be all right in the morning,” said the jumping-jack, “for my little mistress Bertha put me here bjthe fire to-day and whispered up the ohimney: ‘Please, Santa Claus, bring i new eye nnd a new suit of clothes for jumping-jack, and please, Santa Claus, bring rzte a nice big box of sandy.’ ” “So you like Bertha, do you?” asked the old clock. “No, not very much,” satd the jump-Ing-jack; she dropped me in the washbasin, you know, and then, too, she makes me jump when I don’t want to. Last week she pulled me so hard that the string broke.” i “Sque-ea-ea-eak!” said another small voice and the little blue mouse peeped out from under the wardrobe. “Sque-ea-eareakandl don’t like Bertha either !”»she said. “Tick-tock, tick-tock,” said the old clock, ‘and why don’t you like Bertha, Mistress Blue Mouse ?” “She frightens me,” answered the little blue mouse, “and she pets that horrid old cat No, I could never like a child that keeps such bad company. Depend ujxjb it, no child that keeps company with a cat ever came to any good end—soue-ea-ea-eak!” Now, while the old clock and the jumping-jack and the little blue mouse talked together. Bertha lay fast asleep in her crib, and the old clock and the jumping-jack and the little blue mouse were still talking and Bertha was still fast asleep when there came the sound of sleigh bells and then the noise of some one slipping down the chimney. But instead of Santa Claus there came out of the chimney and stood on the hearth a very fat and very sleepylooking boy. He wore fur clothes and a fur cap, and the first thing he did was to yawn. “You’re not Santa Claus, are you?” asked the jumping-jack. ••Of course he isn’t!” said the old clock. “I know Santa Claus, for I’ve seen him twenty times!” "No, I’m Santa Claus* boy,” said the boy. and he yawned again, for he was very sleepy. , "What on earth are you doing here at this time of night?” said the jump-iug-jack. t «■ “Why. father was so busy.” said the boy. "that he sent me down here with this box of candy and this box of paints. One of them is for—let me see—he •add to give the candy to the jumpingjack. and—no that wasnlt it! lam to paint Bertha—no, I’m sure I don’t remember what he did tell me to do. but here is the candy and here are the paints!” You see he had forgotten all about what he came for. Wasn’t that just like a boy? Just then a wicked thought came to the jumping-jack. He winked his one eye at the little blue mouse, as much as to say, "You help me out in this story and I’ll make it all right with you.” Then the jumping-jack said to the boy, "I know all about this, and I will tell you what to da. The box of

candy is for me, and yoa are to paiai Bertha- You’ll find her in the erite over there. Put some red stripes and yellow buttons on her, and don’t forget to give her a new purple left eya” “That's right,'' squeaked the tittle blue mouse. The old clock was so suprised that it could only “tick-tock, tick-tock,” over and over again, and these “tick-toeks" were so sad that tears of sorrow filled the eyes of the needles in the workbasket on the table. The boy was foolish enough to believe the wicked jumping-jack. So he handed over the box of candy, and then—oh. horrible! —he went to the crib and painted red stripes and yellow buttons all over poor little Bertha, and having done that he painted one of her beautiful blue eyes (the left one) an awful purple! Then he tied a string to her and climbed up the chimney again.

As for Bertha, she got the worst of it, of course, for there she was—all painted up like a jumping-jack, with a big purple left eye. She couldn’t speak or do anything else unless somebody pulled the string, and she had to stay that way a whole year, until Santa*Claus came around himself and fixed things. When Santa Claus dW come he took the evil jumping-jack away with him and changed him into a nut-cracker. So now the evil jumpingjack has to work harder than ever before, and nobody is a bit sorry, I’m certain. But the old clock sings “tick-tock, tick-tock” just the same as before, and once when I sat listening to this strange music, which will go on long after you and I are done with Christmas times, the old clock paused in its solemn singiug to tell me the story I have just told you, and the old clock knows many other pretty stories which I may sometime repeat.

Christmas Eve the old clock stood in the corner and sang . “tick-tock, tick- ’ teck” until everything else in the room had gone to sleep everything except the jumping jack. • Tick-tock, ’’said the old clock, and

The introduction of a material combining all the advantages of glass, with none of the corresponding disadvantages arising from its brittleness, will be hailed with interest by every class of the public who suffer daily in one form or another from the fragile nature of the article it is now sought to supersede. The transparent wire wove roofing, which is translucent, pliable as leather and unbreakable, has for its basis a web of fine iron wire, with warp and waft threads about one-twelfth of an inch apart. This netting is covered on both sides with a thicktranslueent varnish, containing a large percentage of linseed oil. The process of manufacturing is conducted by dipping the sheets into deep tanks containing the composition until the required thickness is obtained; the sheets are then dried in a heated chamber, and after being stored for some time till thoroughly set are ready for use. The sheet* can be made any color desired, and range from amber to pale brown. The roofing is very pliable, and. bending backward and forward without any injury, readily adapts itself to curves or angles in roofing. The new material is not only water proof, but is unaffected by steam, the heat of the sun, frost, hail, rain, or, indeed, atmoshperic changes of any kind. Being a non conductor, buildings, winter gardens and similar structures remain cool in summer and warm in winter.

Muffs of monkey skin are al way e much admired. This far is really taken from the back of chimpanzees like the late Mr. Crowley, of New York. Five years ago they were almost unknown, and dealers on the west coast of Africa bought them of the natives for $1.50 a dozen, shipping them to London with instructions to make them up into driving gloves and offer them to the trade. But their peculiarly long black hairs, for the monkey can scarcely be said to have a fur, at once won favor, and the orice went up so rapidly that agents at Sierra Leone fairiv coined money before the natives discovered the advance in values. But the animal from which this strange material is secured is comparatively rare in Africa, and exists nowhere else on the globe. A few years more and monkey skins will be almost as rare as blacks ables.

"Tommy, 1 hear you got a thrashing in school to-day.” Tommy:,‘Yea, ma, the teacher whipped me, but he 1. getting so old and weak that it didn't hurt much.” "Did you ory?” “Oh. yes, I bawled so you could have heard it oo the next block.” “Why did you do that?” "1 wanted to make the old man feel happy once more.”

There is an amusing story told of a Delaware man. who received a "hornipg” because he married witiiin a month after his first wife’s death. He told the serenaders that he didn’t think it showed good taste to come banging around a man’s house so soon after a funeral. r

“Lemon parties” are becoming popular in a number of Hudson Rivet towns. ■ it is stated that every young man is expected to bring a lemon, » girl, and a squeezer.

New Substitute For Glass.

Monkey skin Muffs.

A Happy thought.

No Respect for the Dead.

Lemon, Girl, and Squeezer.