Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 December 1874 — Page 3

RENSSELAER UNION. %■ —— • ' JASES k HK.VLET, Proprietor!. RENSSELAER, - INDIANA.

CHRISTMAS. Over tke hills of Palestine TUe silver stars began to shine; Night drew her shadows softly ronnd The slumbering earth, without a.sound. Among the fields and dewy rocks The shepherds kept their quiet flocks 1 . And looked alonj* the darkening land, That waited the Divine command. ’•# When lot throogh ail the openhfe’frHls,! Par np the deep, dark heavens withdrew; And angels in a solemn light Praised God to all the the listening night. Ah! said the lowly shepherds then; The seraph sang good-will to men; O hasten, earth, to meet the morn. The Prince, the Prince of Peace, is born. Again the sky was deep and dark:, Bach star resumed his silver spark; The dreaming land in silence lay, And waited for the dawning day. But in a stable low and rude, Where white-horned, mild-e.ved oxen stood; The gates of Heaven were still displayed, For 1 Christ was in His manger laid. , —Harriet E, Prescott.

HOW SANTA CLAUS WAS CURED OF THE PANIC.

BY REV. E. P. ROE.

The water was shut off from the race-way and foamed down the rocky channel of the stream, adding little though seemingly to its volume,.thus becoming the emblem of multitudes of lives quite lost in the general human tide, but which might accomplish so much if concentrated directly and steadily upon one useful purpose. The great wheel made a few glow revolutions and stopped, and the little army of operatives were informed that with it their work also stopped indefinitely. The sad fact came to very many like a bolt from a serene sky. What did those men, women and children, many of them strangers in our land, know of stocks and Walt street gambling? And yet the unlucky betting, the wild, reckless ventures of millionaires that they had never heard of, were taking away’ their bread. For good or evil humanity is so linked together that individual action may be cause of effects not dreamgf of. From the mill portals many pale, troubled faces issued that night, and deep anxiety, and in not a few instances utter dismay, was carried to the homes represented. “ What is the matter?” asked Mrs. Jamison, as her husband came In with lowering brow, and sat dejectedly down in the corner behind the stove. His manner was usually energetic, cheery and bustling. “Matter enough,” he answered, gruffly. “ Without a word of warning the null has stopped, and I’m out of work. There’s a panic.” Chorus of Mrs. Jamison, a buxom middleaged woman; of Alice, a blooming girl of eighteen; and of Little Ben, a boy not far from nine years of age. “A panic!—what is that?” “ Blessed if I know much about it,” said the man, irritably. “ Something got up by the rich to make the poor poorer and knock a man down that’s trying to climb up. What it is or what caused it might worry a Yankee lawyer to make out, but it means trouble enough for us. They say the rich are catching it this time, too, but they won’t have to go hungry, as I fear we will.” —-- Talk of hunger seemed out of place in Mr. Jamison’s house, it abounded in comfort, and there were not a few evidences of smartness and ambition, if not refinement. The family were in the general dining-room, but the lighted lamp in the parlor revealed an apartment as grand as cheap ornaments, pictures and showy furniture could make it. “The idea of our ever going hungry!” said Mrs. Jameson, incredulously and in some heat. “It may be a very hard fact soon, instead of an idea,” said her husband, gloomily. “ You know how things are. Only three days ago I drew my wages up to date, and mide a payment on our place here. I was calculating on my winter earnings to pay up back store accounts and provide for winter. But there may not be any winter earnings, for Mr. Shutedown says that it may be months- before they startup again, if they ever do. We are in debt at the stores now, and they’ll be mighty slow to trust any of us after work has stopped. I couldn’t borrow money on the place these times, especially when there’s a mortgage on it already, and if I could it would only end in our losing the place and all we’ve paid on it. Can’t you see how things are? We’ve laid in no stores; I’ve got no money, and don’t know where to get any. So what are you and the children and our fine lady of a daughter going to live on, I’d like to know?” A flush, half bf 6hame, half of anger, suffuced Alice's face at this reference to herself, but Mrs. Jamison dropped into a chair, and with tears in her eyes said: ' ■/' “ I declare, Silas, you quite take away iny breath. I can’t realize it. Everything has been going smoothly so long. I suppose we could sell the place if worse came to the worst." ■» “We wouldn’t get half its value now, and I’d lose the earnings of long years that I’ve put into it. I don’t believe 'that, after the mortgage and debts were paid, we’d have anything left, and be out of a home in the bargain,” was the despondent answer. An ominous silence fell on the little group, broken only by the chatter of two children at play under the table, who were too young to suffer otherwise than unfledged birds in a nest when their parents failed in their foraging for them. “ O dear," said Alice, whose language was tinged with the fashjonable slang and affectation of her ambitious little coterie of girls, “ I’m awiully pained that this panic has come now, for I shall have to give up my music and drawing and everything just when beginning to do so nicely.” “ Indeed you will, said her father, shortly, “and if the panic don’t bring you anything more painful than that you may be thankful." Liltle Ben, as he was called, was a thoughtful child and listened to all this conversation with round, wondering eyes and a vague sense of impending disaster. From his sister's speech, and the manner and words of liis father, tfce new word “ Panic” became associated with pain—suffering. It seemed lo his childish mind some terrible epidemic disease that had commenced raging. Mr. Shutedown, the proprietor of the mill, had caught it and had therefore stopped everything and brought all this trouble ou his father and the rest. II- Santa €laus now should take the panic matters would be desperate indeed, and the heaviest blow of all would fall on him. Little Ben had set his heart on a pair of skates. He bad thought of them by day and dreamed of them by night till they meant to him “ all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them,” and his mother had hinted broadly that if he were a good boy Santa Claus would bring them on Christmas. Therefore to Little Ben Christmas was the nrillenium. But suppose Santa Claus should catch this dreadful panic and have to stop everything like Mr. Shutedown and others that his father spoke of! and Little Ben’s heart failed him at the thought. He wanted to= ask his father if such a thing were possible but could not summon courage for a long time to face the dreaded answer. Mrs. Jamison went to the kitchen and completed preparations for supper aud then said to her husband: “ Come, you shall have one more good meal, anyway, and them I’ll do anything you think.best and try to make a little go a good ways.” “At will be a bitter day to me, Jane, when I can’t say to you and the children, * eat and be Satisfied,' but I confess I’m caught in a very tight place. If the mill don’t start soon I (Saatt think what we shall do, for I don’t know how to do other kinds of work even if I could got any. Seems to me I’d rather die than see those mouths crying for bread,” he •added, looking at the {damp, round-faced Lttle girl* Who were soon on their way to the

bottoms of two bowls of bread and milk; “and I’m one who couldn’t live on charity,” ■ Now l.mk here, Silas,” aald his wife, wiping her eves lest her tears should weaken his I tea before she handed it to him, “ don’t you go to talk about dying. 1 kno.w the papers are full Of suicides of peopje who’ve got into trouble. But if ever a man does a mean, cowI ardly thing it’s when he kills himself and ! leaves a weak woman and a lot of little children to bear the same trouble all alone, aud made a million times worse by the sorrow and shame of his death. Whatever’s before us let’s stand by each other and'trvtodo right." “ Oh, I don’t want to die,” said her husband, hastily; " I’m not lit, for that matter. Only I feel desperate blue, for I can’t see my way an inch out of this fog.” + “Well,” said Mrs. Jamison, “I’m sure of one thing. WC ought to Trust to God and do right.” “That’s easier said than done,” her husband again answered with irritation. “If I saw you all hungry I’d be more inclined to steal than trust. “Oh,'Silas!” said his wife, reproachfully, “you don’t mean that. You are so full of trouble you don’tknow what you are saying.” But lier own conscience condemned her, for ■ though a professing Christian she had grown cold and indifferent like many cithers. Worldliness can master the soul in the cottage as well as in the palace. She was oppressed with the thought that consolations of faith came from her lips with poor grace and found little echo in her own heart, and so she ceased from her vain attempt to help her husband in thut direction, and the meal went forward in depressing silence. At last the pressure of anxiety became too great for Little Ben, and he ventured in timid, tremblingtßfees, “Papa, don’t you think Santa Claus will come just the same this Christmas?” “ No, indeed, sir,” replied his father with crushing emphasis. “ Santa Claus has got the panic worse than anybody. It’ll be the death of him, I’m thinking, for us.” Little Ben’s cup of sorrow now overflowed, and so did his eyes. His wee sisters having found the bottoms of their bowls were at leisure to observe him, which they did in much wonderment and sympathy, for he was a manly boy and seldom cried “What's a matter, boder?” asked the youngest, her own eyes filling. “ Santa Claus—ain’t—coming this Christmas,” sobbed Little Ben. “ He’s got the panic.” These dismal tidings brought dismay to their little souls also, and they at once setup a dismal wail that I wish might haunt the dreams of the speculators. And so the whole family came at last under the shadow of the great financial disaster. The father left his supper unfinished and hastily retreated to the dusky corner behind the stove, in the sitting-room. Mr. Jamison was a shrewd, thriving native of New England, who by industry and trustworthiness had attained an important position in the mill and received large wages. Property was 4 rising in the village and he wisely thought it better to buy a home than, to be moving about in rented rooms. But as we have seen the panic caught him, as he expressed it, “in a very tight place;” yet he was better oft than many, for he had something that he could call his own. His wife, like himself, was of American descent; had been the daughter of a small farmer, and in her maiden davs had learned the trade of dressmaking. But as prosperity increased and she came to have a nice and quite pretentious home of her own she grew ambitious and gave way to that baneful idea of American society that working for money except in some genteel way was not “ the thing*ter women seeking social promotion. Her husband, with something of the same perverted pride, had said “she neejjn’t work; he guessed he. could take care of his family.” 80 on the new home the dressmaker’s sign had not appeared. But it was in relation to her daughter that Mrs. Jamison’s notions of gentility developed themselves most decidedly. Alice was unusually pretty and her mother purposed that she should become a fine lady in very truth and make a “ good match.” So the child was always dressed beyond her station aud taught to put on airs generally. She should do no hard work because her hands must be kept white and little, and she was petted and flattered to that degree that her father sometimes said: “ You’ll make such a lady of her that she will be ashamed of us both one of these days.” There is plenty of vanity in every heart, and that in Alice’s was nursed and developed by her mother’s foolish course in no ordinary degree, and had she not possessed a good substratum of common sense she might have been spoiled utterly. But. she was a bright girl and did not dawdle over her books and Was acquiring a very fair education. She also had a little love affair on hand with a young man who was clerk in a dry goods store in New Y"ork, and of whom Mrs. Jamison spoke confidentially to a few intimate cronies as “ exceedingly well connected," being in fact the son of a deceased Methodist minister, once a pastor in the village. No formal engagement bound the young people, but he had “ waited on” Alie to that extent that it was considered pretty well settled. In her confident expectation Frank was destined to own the store in which Tie “ hacr recently written her with much elation that he had been promoted to the dignity of selling goods in small quantities. So Alie, with her music, drawing and “ beau,” was regarded by her little set as a very favored and enviable girl. The future seemed to her a golden haze of delightful possibilities, and she determined to fit herself to be the elegant mistress of the brown stone house which she was sure Frank would give her at no distant day. But the panic and her father’s words, like a sudden, violent storm, swept the haze away, and she 6aw but one bare,’ gaunt question—that of bread. For a little time she was too stunned and bewildered to realize it. Little Ben had taken a great fancy to Dr. Bowne, whose benevolent, cheery face was a great deal pleasanter than his medicine. What was more to the point, Dr. Bowne had taken a fancy to Little Ben, and needing a boy to sit in his buggy and hold his horse while he made his callß offered the boy the situation. To Little Ben this was as “ nice a plum” as a position in the Cabinet to an ambitious statesman. Besides many little perquisites of pleasure, three elements of great and unmingled good belonged to this office: First, there was the doctor, so eliatty and kind; next, a store of pennies, counted over till enough were secuied to buy a warm new overcoat; and then, best of all, there was the horse. For a long time unmeasurable content dwelt in Little Ben’s heart. But, alas for our insatiable human nature! A frosty night skimmed the ponds with ice, suggested skates, and these soon came to till the whole horizon. Aud now Santa Claus had the panic. The next day Little Ben sat disconsolately by the doctor, who had an important case ou hand and therefore was too much preoccupied to notice the downcast face of the boy. But the latter had come to look upon the doctor as his only hope, and at last he ventured—- “ I)r. Bowne, can’t you cure most kinds of sickness?"

“Well,” said the doctor, good naturedly, “ with the help of a nice old lady named Nature I can cure a good many kinds.” “ Do you think you could cure the panic?” faltered Little Ben. The doctor laughed and said: “I’m afraid the panic is ‘ too many’ for us both. With the giving way of his last hope Little Ben gave way too, and sobbed: “ Oh, oh, oh —l’m so sorry. You were my only hope.’’ “ Why, cbiid, what is the matter?” asked the doctor, in surprise. “Father says Santa Claus has got the panic just like Mr. Shutedown, and he can’t bring me any skates, as mother said he would.” and Ben’s little face was the picture of childish despair. „ The doctor drew out the whole sjr ry of Mr. Jamison’s trouble and then 6uid, with a grave face that inspired the utmost confidence: “T must look into Santa- Glaus’ case, Now I think of it, there have been times when the panic, if not too -severe, was cured. I think there’s hope, Little Ben. I’ll look into his case and tell you to-morr»W’ The child took heart and. waited for the. doctor’s opißion with as deep anxiety as loving watchei ovAr a sick friend.

, The doctor told his wife about Little Ben's trouble and she told some other ladies, and though hone" of them w.ere rich and had little folk of their own it was agreed among them that as fur as the Jamison children Were concerned Santa Claus should be fully recovered bv Christmas. The doctor told Little Ben next day that he was satisfied that he could cure Santa Claus so that he would bring the skates, and great was the consequent joy. “Do you think he will be well enough to bring my little sisters anything?” asked the boy. “Yes,” said the doctor; “we are going to cure him up strong. But you must not say anything about it at home. He wants to surprise your little sisters and all the rest.” How Little Ben swelled and exulted over his secret, and the narrow escapes he ha'd from letting it trllmit would require pages Lo re. count. Our Hon. Secretary of State,' with all the secrets of the Cuban questiou in his possession, was not so conscious of importance. One day he said patronizingly to his father, who, in'galling idleness, brooded despondently in the dusky corner behind the stove: “Cheer up, papa! If you knew all I do, you wouldn’t feel so bad;” and then, fearing he might be questioned, ran away. As was inevitable, the family' speedily felt the presence of poverty. Credit was difficult to obtain, and the little money on band soon melted away. Mr. Jamison made many inquiries and wrote many letters, but there was no prospect of employment in his line. He must soon either sell his place or put off the evil day by disposing of household articles. On inquiry he found that the prices obtained would be so small, in view of the general depression, that It would be almost the same as giving them away. He was nearly desperate one evening, when little Ben burst’into the sitting-room, exclaiming, in great excitement: “Fat’sbeen getting drunk again and made at awful row up at the doctor’s—frightened them all out of their wits; so the doctor’s just sent him kiting.” Mr. Jamison seized his hat and was gone in a moment. . “ Oh, mother, what does papa want to catch Pat for?” asked Little Ben, with increasing excitement. “ Wait and see;” and the good woman was puzzled herself. Half an hour later Mr. Jamison came in with more of his old cheery manner than he had shown since the mill stopped; and instead of going into the dusky corner sat down where 1 he light fell ou his swarthy face. “ Did you find Fat ?” asked Little Ben, breathlessly. “Put? no; what should I want of him? I found what Pat lost —work.” “ Do you mean to say that you are going to work for the doctor?” asked Mrs. Jamison, in dismay. “Indeed I do. I am going to tend his horse, mind the fires, black his hoots, and make myself generally useful, for twelve dollars a month, and glad and grateful am Lfor the chance.” This brought Alie out. Coming to her father she put her hand on his shoulder and said: “ It’s time I gave up being a fine lady, as you call me. I’ve tried to eat as little as possible to save, and have thought and thought of some way to help, but can’t find any. But to-day, when I was at the Postoffice, Mrs. Brooks, the lawer’s wife, left word that she wanted a waitress. One of her girls got huffy because, on account of the hard times, her wages were reduced, and went off to New York. If you and mother are willing I will try and get the place.” “My daughter go out to service!” exclaimed Mrs. Jamison, in a tone of indignant disapproval, “ I’m sure, mother, I’ll have a good, respectable home; and I think it’s better than working in the mill or going hungry.” “At any rate, her father is going out to service,* and people won’t give her credit for being any better than he is, said Mr. Jamison coolly. “I don’t want credit for being any better; I want to help you, papa,” said Alie, with a sudden rush of tears. Dashing these hastily away, shccontinued: “ I don’t see why a girl can’t respect herself and fee respected when doing good, wholesome housework as well as when being poisoned in stifling mills or stitching her life out in close rooms. For the life of me, I jan’t see why it is more genteel to stand behind a counter, stared at by rude people and at the beck and nod of every one, than to work in a good, sheltered home for a few people who might be made to take some interest in you.” “ That’s a good, sensible girl. Now I’m proud of you, if your mother’ ain’t,” said her father, putting his arm around her waist. “ Well, all I’ve got to say is, Frank Walters won’t look at you again after he hears of it,” said Mrs. Jamison. “ Then I won’t look at him,” said Alie, with spirit. “If he doesn’t think any more of me than that, I’d like to And it out;” and she felt a strong desire to put him to the test, though in her heart she confessed that she dreaded wliat might be the result. “If Alie is willing to take the place she shall,” said her father, with decision. “ It’s no longer a question of likes and dislikes, but of bread; twelve dollars a month and Little Ben’s pennies will provide mighty slim fare, I can tell you, though much better than nothing. Every cent we can add means so much more comfort —and 1 want no other bread than bread earned to come into this house. There’ll be plenty that can’t get work this winter, and they only have a right to the gifts. You said, wife, that we must stand by each other and trust the Lord. I don’t know as much about Him as I ought; but I know this much, that when He was on earth He wasn’t ashamed of being poor, or of hard work; and the Bible says that ‘ He took upon him the form of a servant.' Seems to me that most Christians nowadays have got ahead of their Master. I’d like lo be able to keep you both as fine ladies; but since I can’t, I’d rather you swept the streets than starve with silk dresses on. So, Alie, come; don’t let’s lose a minute. Put on your hat and shawl and I’ll go over to Brooks’ with you, or some one will be before us.” Half an hour later Alie was engaged at moderate wages, in view of her inexperience, as Mrs. Brooks’ waitress. And they had been none too prompt, for a girl was inquiring for the place as they came out. Mrs. Jamison sat for a time in deep thought after they were gone. Suddenly she started up, and as the result of her reflections said: “ They shan’t get ahead of me, after all.” And she went to a closet, took down her old dressmaker’s sign and hung it over the door. Father and daughter saw it in the moonlight and came in laughing. Her husband exclaimed: “Good for you, mother. We knew yon had the true Yankee grit, after all. The wolf can’t howl at our door now." Little Ben, in his desire to add to the hopeful aspect of affairs, was near exploding with his secret. He felt that he might venture a hint without* disobeying the doctor. So he pulled his mother down and whispered: “ Suppose Santa Claus is cured of the Panic, after all.” She, with a laugh, repeated what he said to the others, who gave each other a wink, intimating that, as far as' the little ones were concerned, they would see to it that the childrenVsaint was at least better; but Mr. Jamison put on a long face and said: “Don’t fcxpeet too much, Little Ben; he’ll be powerful weak this year, aud not able to bring many things." •> Little Ben could trust himself no longer, and went off to bed chuckling over his superior knowledge, and soon glided away to the land of dreams' on the coveted skates. Frank Walters wrote he would be home the dav before Christmas in the afternoon. Great was the surprise when it was known among the smart, dressy girls of Alie’s old set that she had gone out to service, and many snubs and cuts were received Hut I am glad to say that a few, the cream of them, treated her more kindly than- ever when they learned the facts. Thus the step did her good service, for it winnowed out the chaff among her acquaintances and gave her a ’good riddance of all the empty-brained, empty-hearted'ones. And one of this class, who also admired Frank Walters immensely, and would gladly supplant Alie if she could, met that young gentLman on his way home for the holiday and hastened, with' much comnienta.ry of her own, to inform him of Swhat she termed the “ disgraceful fact.” She did not understand the sudden light of exulta-

tion that gleamed In his eyes, but felt much complimented when he said, gallantly, that he was sure she would never do such a thing, but, under similaK circumstances, would sit •in lier father’s parlW like a lady. misgivings, and thaVacold chill of fciir gathered at her heart as the hour approached when she must explain all to her lover. Still she meant to do it bravely, hut in her own home. ,She' obtained a brief leave of absence for the afternoon of the 24th, on condition of returning in tjroe to get tea. With an odd little feminine’ impulse she made the best toilet possible and sat in state to receive him. He was much surprised to find her looking more elegant than he had ever 6een her, and she noticed that he, too. Was quite elaborately dressed. They chatted away for an hour, but both were under restraint, for something was evidently on their minds. Mrs. Jamison prudently kept out of the way, and left the young people to manage for themselves. At last Alie rose, and said in a voice thut she tried to make steady and mutter-of-fact: “ I must ask you to excuse me. I am living jwjth Mrs. Brooks now, and must change my dress before I return.” “ Let me be your escort,” said Frank, gallantly. “I don’t think you will care to be when you see the change that will take place in my appearance; put you may if you wish,” and she vanished, and with trembling hands put on her plain but neiit working dress. She felt that she was at the crisis of the test, and if he failed her, work and poverty would form the least part of her burden for future days. As soon as she had gone Frank startled Mrs. Jamison by his abrupt entrance into the sit-ting-room with the request that he might go up to Little Ben’s room, as he wished to change his clothes? He soon came down to the parlor clad in a.-rough working garb. A little later Alie joined him, but looked with no little surprise at the metamorphose in him. “ Well, are you ready?” he asked. i “ Yes—but ” “ Oh, the tables are turned. You are not willing to go with me?” “Yes, lam; but I don’t quite understand. Perhaps we had better explain a little.” “ Ladies first,” cried Frank, with twinkling eyes. “Well,” said Alie, desperately, “in plain English, I am Mrs. Brooks’ waitress, and am trying to earn eight dollars a month.” “I hope the time will come when you will Jet me offer you a better situation,” he answered, with a face so comic and yet so kind. “You are not going to cut me, then, as some of my friends have?” she asked, looking hopefully up. “ Not unless you cutmej’for in plain English I am porter and man of all work in Hotel. I lost my place through the panic, and took the first honest work I could find.” Alie’s. laugh rang out like a chime of Christmas bells as she said: “I guess we are in the same boat, then.” He took her hand in both of liis and answered earnestly: “And in the same boat may we always be, pulling together against the stream, or with it, as it may be our lot. Alie, you are the style of girl I believe in. You’d stand by ahd help a fellow in panic times. If you had all the world to give I would not value it half as much as your owu dear self. You are the Christmas gift I have set my heart upon. Now I’ve explained. What is my answer?” With head bent down and face like the oldfashioned blush-rose, Alie seemed to him the sweetest ideal of Santa Claus as she said;. “Indeed, Frank, I’ve nothing else to give.” - As porter and waitress walked through the winter twilight to Mrs. Brooks’ there was very few but might have envied them. The first thing that greeted Little Ben’s eyes as he woke Christmas morning was a pair of skates hanging from the bedpost. With a shout and a tvound he was on the floor in a moment, and quite shocked the family by tearing down to the sitting-room in scantiest costume with a skate in each hand. “Hurrah for. Dr. Bowne!” he cried. “He said he’d cure Santa Claus of the pani and he’s done it, too.” His uproar awakened the little girls, and they soon appeared upon the scene in trailing night-gowns, dragging full 6tookings after them. Little Ben was packed off to dress, and on his return a stocking hung on the baek of his chair. Then all the children be.-' gan to hurrah for Dr. Bowne, till it seemed that they might surpass those who shouted: “ Great is Diana of the Ephesians!” for the space of two hours. Before breakfast commenced Little Ben fonnd a chance, unpreceived, to slip a silver thimble under his mother’s plate and a cravat under his father’s. Their surprise was unmeasured, and, with great show of surmising and reasoning, they at last traced the whole thing to Little Ben. Then he made a clean breast of it, and said that the doctor told him to get these things with some of his pennies, for Santa Claus might be a “ little shaky and would need some help." “ But he ain’t shaky a bit,” asserted Ben, with great emphasis. “The doctor cured him up strong. Hurrahfor Dr. Bow net" and the little girls joined in the lively chorus. After breakfa-t Mr. Jamison went to the door and then called to his wife: “ Jane, comehere. There’s a customer that wants some dressing right away.” And Jane came and found a twelve-pound turkey hanging over her dressmaker’s sign. “Now, Silas, that’s some of ybur work.” “Santa Claus brought it, didn’t he, Little Ben ?” laughed his father. “All right.” said the wife; “but if lam to dress this customer I want a loaf of baker’s bread. You go to the store and get it.” Mr. Jamison reached up behind the door, where his old felt hat usually hung, but took down, instead, a new fur cap wit i ear lappets and a warm woolen tippet. “ Now, Jane, this is your work," he said, turning it around admiringly. “ Santa Claus brought it, didn’t he, Little Ben ?” chuckled his mother. With skates tied round his neck and his hands in his pockets, that bulged out with nuts and other boyish treasures, Little Ben stood regarding them with unmingled satisfaction. At last his full heart found utterance in: “Now, wasn’t the Doctor • bully’ to cui» old Santa Claus of the panic ?” They bad their Christmas dinner at five in the afternoon, so that Alie could bq with them; and of course Frank Walters was invited. As Alie lifted her plate she found a very pretty ring that, by some strange chance, just fitted the engagement finger. “You can’t eat any turkey after that,” cried her father, in tones that belied his moist eyes. “ Indeed I can, after working as hard as I have all day,” she said, smiling and blushing as all eyes dwelt lingeringly on her pretty face. “Only fine ana idle ladies can live on sentiment. So please give me some of the white aud dark meat both.” , “I say, Walters,” said her father, pausing iD his carving, “how can you abide such a matter-of-fact girl?” “ That is what I like, sir,” was the hearty reply. “She is a blessed fact, and there’s nothing false about her.” In tue evening' Dr. Bowne came in and found as happy a family group, cracking nuts aud jokes around the sitting-room fire, as 6ne could wisftjAreee. “I’ve good uewsforyou, Mr. Jamison/’ said the doctor, cheerily, “ though I shall be the loser myself. Mr. Shutedown says that he is going to 6tart the mill the first of the year, and that you shall have your old place and pay. This is Mr. Frank Walters, I believe. The Postmaster, knowing that I was coming here and might see you, asked me to hand you this letter, as it was marked ‘haste.’ ” Frank tore open the letter, read it with a glad smile, and then handed it to Alie. “Read it aloud,” cried her-father. She stole a timid glance at the doctor, who said-kindly, “Don't tie afraid' of hie; and T guess from the looks of things you have, a right to read all his let'ers." Blushing wi.h pleasure and embarrassment Alie read: Mb. Fraxk Walters— Dear Sir - Times arc growing better. Spring trade promises to be good. We have Observed approvingly yonr willingness to do any honest work rather than be idle. Oar friend. Dr. Bowne, speaks well of veil, and vour friends, the Jamisons, especially Mfss Jamison. Therefore, as v,eshall need more help, we gfve you the first* choice, and request you to call at vonr earliest convenience. " o V Resp'y yours, -Joujt Brows. Of Smith, Brown & Cor Mr. Jamison C»mo to where the doctor was

sitting, and, taking his .hand, said, with deep feeling: “ You have been tme friend to me and mine, and now you sL’ ftll have your reward,.fqr I will tell you wh.’M have told no one yet, save God. • You gave me work when I sorely needed'it. What is int’re, you showed me kindness and human fellowship. you in-' yited ine to sit down with you ;dt your family altar, and you prayed forme/and m > T household. In your home I saw trv'e religion honestly lived out, and I want the aamfe kind in my home. I hope we shall no longer be a praverless family. If yod will crown ai’l your other kindnesses by setting up the Lamily altar in my house to-night,' I will try to sustain it the best I can as long us I live.” “Ah," said the doctor, “now you do repay <§e many times. Healing men’s bodies is al’i very well, but when I can help their souls I feel that I have done work that will last," and he initiated the simple service with a tact and heartiness that deeply touched each one. The good man had scarcely left the porch on his retuin home before Little Ben vociferated: “ Hurrah for Dr. Bowne! If I ever get the panic, or anything else, he’s the man I’ll go for.” —Rural Mew Yorker.

Good Shot.

Last week Mr. David Swing, of Cascade, concluded that lie would demolish a few hundred ducks and geese who had contracted the habit of squatting in his cornfield. He had no gun, so he stepped over to Mr. Smith’s, his neighbor just opposite, and borrowed one. Mr. Swing was a believer in the time-honored maxim, “ put in plenty of powder and drive the pellets hard if you would kill,” and so he took that gun and proceeded to load it. He first measured out a handful of powder and poured it in each barrel, then added another handful for good measure. Some of the powder spilled out and he inverted his flask and held it over the muzzle for a minute or two. Then he rammed down a newspaper into each barrel and followed up those with an awful charge of shot. Two more newspapers went down the cavity and then the charge was complete. Thus prepared Mr. Swing started out, but the ducks and geese had evidently received a premonition of what was in store for them; none were to be found, and very sadly and very much disgusted Mr. Swing returned the gun to its owner. In half an hour after the latter saw a tremendous flock of ducks pitch down in a pond hardly fifty yards distant from the fence back of his barn. He crawled up very cautiously to the fence, rested his gun upon the lower rail, took dead aim andpullcd the trigger. What followed immediately after Mr. Smith does not distinctly remember He has a dim recollection that he crawled up to shoot some ducks; that he was in the act of pulling something when an explosion took place that shook the country for miles, and rattled the bells in the church steeples. When Mr. Smith came to he found himself in the front room, surrounded by an anxious circle of friends while the doctor was feeling his pulse. The fence was blown away entirely, likewise one side of Mr. Smith’s face, while the gun has not been found. One hundred and five ducks were killed outright, and shot enough was deposited in the adjoining fields to start a lead mine. Smith’s ears are still ringing with the report, hut he swears that Swing’s ears will ring still louder as soon as he is able to use his crutches. Swing believes that there is trouble brewing and is ready to sell out his farm and join the grasshopper sufferers of Nebraska. —Dubuque Herald.

What He Wanted.

They had a live lord at the Westminster, New York, the other day, attended by a lull-blooded English valet. The morning after arrival John put in an appearance at the office and accosted the clerk who was “on duty” with: “ Haw! 1 say, young man, can I have a fly?” With an imperturbable countenance the clerk blandly responded: “ Rather late in the season for flies, sir; might scare you up a cockroach or a few croton bugs.” The Briton stared for a moment at the serious face of the hotel man and then, with a gleam of pity breaking over his ruddy countenance, said: —“I don’t want any bloody hinsects, you knaw—want—well, a brougham.” “A broom? Yes, sir; chambermaid will accommodate you. Better let her do the sweeping, though.” “ Haw, yaas. I don’t mean that kind of a broom, but a one-horse brougham.” “ Don’t think there are any one-horse brooms in New York,” said liis tormentor, blandly; “ but there,” as the streetsweeping machine scraped by in Sixteenth street, “there is a two-horse broom.” Good gracious! I don’t want any such blamed machines as this; I want a one-horse ve’icle, ye knaw, something to ride in,” said John, desperately. “ Oh, yeS,” said the clerk, his face lighting up as if he had just caught the idea of the other. “Front, a coupe for 1,012 right away." “Thanks,” said the valet, his disturbed features settling in the calm expression of the trained Englsßh.servant again; “that will do;- you have such blarsted hodd names for things in this country that sometimes I don’t know whether I am on my ’ed or on my ’eels;” and he marched oft to report to his master that he had “ hengaged an Hamerican koop pay.”

How to Show Lore for a Wife.

Show love for your wife and your admiration of her, not in nonsensical compliment; notin picking up her handkerchief or her gloves or in carrying her fan; not, though you have means, in hanging trinkets or baubles upon her; not in making yourself a fool by winking at and seel ling pleased with her foibles or follies or faults; but show them by acts of real goodness toward her; prove by unequivocal deeds the high value you set on her health and life and peace of mind ; let your praise of her go to the full extent of her deserts, but let it be consistent with truth and with sense and suph as to couviace her of your sincerity. He who is the flatterer of his wife only prepares her ears for the hyperbolical stuff of others. The kindest appellation that her Christian natfte affords is the best that you can use, especially before other people. An everlasting “my dear 1 ’ is but a sorry compensation for the want of Ahatsort of love that makes the husband cheerfully toil by day, break his rest by night, endure all softs of hardships if the life or health of his wife demands it. * Let you? deeds and not your words carry to her heart a daily and hourly confirmation of the fact that you value her health and life and happiness beyond all other things in this world, and let this bo manifest to her, particularly at those times when life is more or less in danger.—. Rural New Yorker. * i A strong man—A shop-lifter.

“Catching a Bob.”

Yesterday afternoon when » Mm. Blaine, of Fifth street, asked the doctor j if her boy Samuel would live, the doctor I looked very serious and replied: “He may, and if he does he will know more than ever before.” Samuel is aged thirteen, and since the ; snow came he has been engaged In ; “ catching a bob,” as the boys call it j when they jump on a farmer’s sleigh, j He was over on Fourth street yesterday when a farmer's team came along with a hay-rack,, and Samuel took a seat on the “binder.” He rode a short distance and then let go and stepped into the coils of a rope dragging behind, and before he knew what was up he was dragging along through the slush. He gave an awful yell as he realized his situation, but the farmer lost his hearing years ago, and, sat on his seat as stiff as a Oar' cliff giant, while the horses ambled along at an even pace. “Whoop! Hay! Say, you! Ob! murder!” yelled Samuel, as the slush ran up his pantaloons and his back was raked on the knobby street, but the farmer was thinking of home, sweet home, and he didn’t reply. “You, there! Whoop! Hi! Ho! Grashus and blazqs!” roared Samuel, as he slid on his back and side and felt his coat going over his bead. The farmer drove up Fourth to Labrosse, and then went west, and tbere wasn’t a hub or pond of water that Samuel Blame didn’t find. Sometimes he was on his back, and then he would glide for a while t’other side up, and he kept up a yelling which made people run to the windows. Some hoys observed his situation, hut they thought it was a new kind of way to “ catch a bob,” and they yelled: “Bully for Samuel Blaine!” “ Say! I’m being drawed to death—stop yer hosses!” shouted Sam; hut the farmer was thinking of a grave on the hill side, and he never turned his head. A man stopped on the walk and yelled: “Say! you’ve got a boy there!” but the farmer nodded his head and kept on. Finally, as he turned into Eighth street and headed for Michigan avenue, he looked around. Seeing Samuel coming up behind, rolling over and over, he thought the boy was trying to catch on, and he put the “ bud” to his horses and went three blocks further and drew up at a grocery. When they discovered the boy’s situation they said it would take forty pounds of glue to tnend him up, and one man advised killing him at once so as to save Mrs. Blaine a doctor bill, hut wiser counsel prevailed and they carried him home. His mother couldn’t recognize him at first; she said they couldn’t pass that mud and slush bedraggled form off on her as her beloved Samuel; hut when finally convinced that it was he she dug the snow out of his ears and wailed: “Oh! Samuel, why did you try to catch a boh?” —Detroit Free Press.

Mind-Reading.

At a social gathering in Springfield, Thanksgiving night, where there were about forty persons present, the topic of mind-reading was introduced and practical tests were made, which, to say the least, -were singular in their results. Most of those present scouted the idea that any influence by the will could be exerted to control the actions of another. But those whp A |ubmitted to the test were forced to admit that either will or “ involuntary muscular action” did exert a powerful influence in guiding them. The subject being blindfolded, the others would seleetsome familiar object and place it in a distant part of the room, sometimes in sight, but at other times out of sight of the operators. Then three, four, ,px five would place their hands on the back, shoulder's and breast of the subject, fixing their minds on the thing to be found. In a few minutes the person blindfolded would begin to move, sometimes sideways, sometimes backward, and sometimes forward, but always in the direction of the hidden article and always where it was placed. The test was tried on a dozen different persons, with different operators on each, taken indiscriminately from the company, and, with the exception of one instance, with the same result. Each subject described the feeling as simply a desire to move off in the direction taken, impelled by a sense or feeling that some influence was crowding them that way, while all the operators declared they were unconscious of exerting any muscular force whatever. As the subject would often move oft in a direction that would necessitate two of the operators to walk backward, while only one would be on the opposite side, there would seem to be something besides “Involuntary muscular action” to be accounted for. Most of the company, however, were unconvinced of any other power. At all events, they got two or three hours of very enjoyable and interesting experiments. — Springfield {Mom.) Union.

One Hundred Florins for a Hair.

A young and poorly-clad girl entered a barber’s shop in V ienna and told the proprietor that he must “ buy her head.” The friseur examined her long, glossy, chestnut locks, and began to bargain. He could give eight guiden and no more. Hair was plentiful this year, the price had fallen and there was less demand, and other phrases of the kind. The little maiden’s eyes filled with tears, and she hesitated a moment while threading her fingers through her chestnut locks. She finally threw herself into a chair. “In God’s name,” she gasped, “ take it quickly.” The barber, satisfied with his bargain, was about to clinch it with his shears when a gentleman who sat halfshaved, looking on, told him to stop. “ My child,” he said, “ why do you want to sell your beautiful hair?” “My moth, er has been nearly five months ill; I can’t work enough to support us; everything has been sold or pawned, and there is not a penny in the house” (und kein kreuteer im li'iue). “No, no, my child,” said the stranger; “if that is the case I will buy your hair, and will give you a hundred guiden for it.” He gave the podr girl the note, the sight of which had dried her tears, and took up the barber’s shears. Taking the locks in his hand he took the longest hair, cut it off alone, and put it carefully ip his pocketbook, thus paying one hundred florins for a single hair. He took the poor girl’s address in case he should want to buy another at the same rate. This charitable jnan is only designated as the chief of a great industrial enterprise within the city. —Freiton Lloyd —The Pennsylvania Railroad Company is said to be the largest private corporation in the world. It controls 6,000 miles of track, represented by $400,000,000 of securities; its annual revenues amount to $80,000,000, and its net income $25,000,000. These colossal figures represent the growth of less than haU a ceiv> tury. 4 -'f — ' r . m