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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 19, 1912)
THE TRANSFORMATION OF OLD PETER GRUFF BBsabeth Rice Carpenter, In the New York Herald. Uvevybedy knows It's true—at least almost everybody. But surly old Pe ter Greff had been down In the village *31 the evening, celebrating Christinas <*»*. Bis stein had been filled and emptied any number of times, so he <*d*(t know anything for sure, and BMtn't give a hang anyway, M su getting on toward midnight when Peter finally untied poor, weary Betsy twho was blind In one eye) and marled at a breakneck pacq through the gray mists over the flats to the term. Far, far away In the heavens Ah* stars' eyes twinkled knowingly. The waam in the moon looked down with a Mr smile. But Peter didn't notice these strangs facts, for he was looking straight ahead (as straight as he could wwfler the circumstances) along the as**, thrashing old Betsy all the way <a*a forgetting that It was Christmas •re. the time of all other times when mmm should be gentle and kind to one's tetew creatures. But Betsy was bid teg her time, and the man In the moon an* the stars smiled on. At tost they reached the old barn s'll. As Peter unharnessed Betsy ■with no gentle hand and led her Into *he stable she looked around expectant Tee. sure enough, the animals were M* wide awake and waiting—It was “"“a » minute of midnight! On the sst the six leghorn hens; in the stood Muggins, the dog, Bet _ < friend and companion in sor tet. while from the loft above peered yellow eyes. These belonged to y. the cat. reached for the halter and tied d and tight about Betsy's neck. *■* *• he did this the clock on the sMcmrch tower down In the village *■■»«* II. Peter, of course, didn’t *wsw this, but the animals did! _ Itos Betsy slowly turned, neighed teeMT. made a profound courtesy to tes^aatiuals, and spoke in a clear deep “■terer Christmas, comrades!” ■rateaUy there was a commotion. «■* sprang from the loft with a Bra* meow, "Merry Christmas, Betsy!" ™ •** Jumped about wagging his teSsohard It’s a wonder he didn't wag Christmas, old pal. how do yourself this year? Even the flapped and flapped their and cackled as loud as they “■terry Christmas, Merry Chrlst • • started back. His hair rose so «• the back of hts head that his **P fell oft. He had never ex ed anything quite like this. No. *** even after the Jolllest evening ywt at the tavern. And yet, of course wmtejust a sort of dream. His head MB may anyway. Sure it was a Tor animals don’t talk! Never, be reached rather hastily for k *'I don't guess I stay In this so long!" he muttered. But a* he rose to his feet and was _ B* to leave the stall he encount •re* Betsy's one eye fastened upon *TMte Gruff," said Betsy severely, ■terae the halter that X may lie down;" Acb Hlmmel, vass Is!" cried Peter M • terrified voice. may well say ‘vass Iss,' " an Betsy in a withering tone, still him with her one eye. "Old Me baiter ?"** y°“ are' wl11 you 10086 “Tab, yah!” answered Peter In a teatring voice. He did as he was bid ter* atood trembling very much In the •mwor of the stall. r*w* now," continued Betsy, ‘ take a ■rate of advice from one who knows. ptev knock me ubout any more. Don't and thrash me up hill. Don't ■tel, as you often do, to give me a *** when I'm tired and famishing, naraat I been a faithful old mare? rararat X ploughed your fields, raked Ftev *ay. gathered it Into the barn and «r5rads^?"*nd y°Ur ,rau t0 church of . **Y8h- y8h- yah!" repeated Pete, In * ^wavering voice. then, take warning before it • tee late. And another thing Peter, yen better leave off drinking beer. what it’s bringing you to! Her# It Is Christmas eve, and your poor frau with next to nothing In the house to eat. Think of your children, your three little children, looking forward to gifts from Santa Claus. Oh, Pete, shame, shame!" Betsy paused, out of breath. The hen* cackled loudly. Peter, partly from shame, bn* more from fright, began to blubber hi.,, -i bigg booble. But here the dog, having word to say upon his own account, to the fore ground and began to s|.°ak. "Peter Gruff,” said Muggins gravely. and many a time I’ve been tem;. “i: ,o bite you! Yes Indeed, I have! Wh* do you cuff me, kick me, drive mo irvrn the Are cold winter nights when I’in doing no harm? Haven’t I been a trus ty old friend, keeping the boys from your orchard, bringing home the cows and guarding your house at night?” Peter was about to answer when Polly, the cat, unexpectedly bounded forward and took the floor. "Peter Gruff,” she shrilled In a high, cater waul voice, ”1 want you to stop drown ing my babies, monster that you are! Pray, Isn’t this farm large enough for both me and my poor little kittens T Cruel, cruel man! How would you feel If some one were to drown your chil dren? Often I’ve Just longed to dig you good and hard; I can do it, too. But, Instead, I’ve killed the rats and mice so that they wouldn't puln your crops and nibble your barn to bits. Furthermore-” There’s no telling how much longer Polly would have talked, but one of the leghorns suddenly cackled, “Come, come, Polly, time’s nearly up; give us a chance!” The cat politely moved to the back ground. and the hen flew from her perch. What happened now was quite an accident She had no Intention of doing It, but she landed right on top of Peter's bald head, scratching It fear fully. This completed Peter's terror, for he really thought his time had come. He fell to the ground, grovell ing. "Lleber Hlmmel! lieber Himmel!" he screamed, clutching his head; "leaf me go leaf me go! I be all time goot; nev er go drunk again!” The hen regained her equilibrium and apologized. "I didn’t Intend to scratch you, Pete though I’ve had plenty of cause, and to peck you, too. But what I want to say Is this: Stop stealing our beautiful white eggs. Stop telling Frau Gruff that we’re not laying, and stop hocking the eggs for drink! You see, we know all. What do you think—we are to take all that trouble and then to have you sell them when they should be kept to feed your family?” "All times goot, all times goot, nefer go drunk.” Pete continued to mumble this over and over, at the same time weeping very bitterly, and gingerly feeling the scratches. Suddenly he fell over to one side and bumped his head rather hard against a beam. He sat up with a start and gazed dazedly about him. The lantern still burned brightly, suspended from Its hook In the wall. All was quiet. Betsy, halterless, reposed In slumber upon the floor. Muggins lay asleep in the manger. The cat Polly lay curled round as a ball In a soft mound of hay. The six leghorns sat side by side upon the perch, each with her head under her wing. Peter got painfully to his feet. He felt very stiff and lame, but he crept warily, oh, so warily, from the stable. In deadly fear of rousing the ani mals. And as he limped slowly along through the barnyard up to the house he tormed two good resolutions which he never broke. The first was that henceforth he would be a total abstain er, which he was. The second that he would always treat dumb animals with kindness, which he did. Sometimes when hs relates his strange experience his friends nudge one another and wink. "Ach, Peter,” they exclaim, laughing, "dot vas a dream, nlcht wahr?” But Peter Is of a different opinion; so am I, and to any doubting Thomas chancing to read this story let me say Just a word. Creep to the barn on the night of Christmas eve, crouch unseen In some dark cor ner; now listen, and hear the animals talk. Candy Toy*. te, PtVi qtore on the maple lined street. '''d tlmy and prlmpy and neat; W* MIS* Cantwell's, whatever you will; ******* Jt^ls dreaming Its Christmas ted litis glad people reach up on their _ toil Whets Uie window pane flattens ths peaks of their nose 's* coast the dear treasures of little child _ J*j« tea old candy canes and the old candy t»r* Wldte ones and brown ones and yellow and red. •S test of a soldier with plumes on his head. Somes and camels and elephants line, ted yonder a rooster with feathers a shine. Sat Wile dogs and huge ships with Spread wings, Bang Udders, short sofas, and all sorts of ' things: stM tushie tied candy—pure sugar, and oh, thsch a taste aa It had In the dear long **•*• Soar lttth window, with shelves covered over WWb testy lace paper, as white aa sweet clover, A fcrar In the center, with toys heaped sublime ter the wonder of childhood at gay, Christmas time; tear beacon of dream on the street of Kghl heart, Where the gingerbread men grew In grace at all art; 4Mne asst, little marvel, on holiday street. Where the limbs of the ntsplea still claps am they meet. ftmr. Sttthf fellows. w|th faculties bent te the paramount problem of spending a cent. •Cat Cantwell has toys In that window •fold. ted 1 see the dear eight In the dreams Wat unfold. tea tittle bell tinkles; some wight has In , Ah. ^es. she la letting him pick o’er the MtTa chosen an elephant, holding his prise telaangl us with envy because of Its else. ■ste te Christmas! and turn again turn, te the land of child dream where the bright w.ndows burn. ■gaffes Miss Cummings has decked up her te«M Mr*. Heatstg is beaming once more Wte Scotch oakes and doughnuta and odd old devices S( German-made cookies with aniseed Icac; Mr maybe Miss Henry's shop twinkles fpfljtJi glM Tm Jjs^alet retreat 'neath the mulberry Waf te the glory of holiday street, tea door little windows, so dainty and mm, te.wjju, their amber and crimson and ted childhood's young heart beating there hi Might. sSfflSKKP!’® * and choosing and choosing r>— me, dpar dream, from the cities ■f *n. ' te Wo khop In,the maple lined village of _^Jthe little bell tinkles above tbs —Baltimore Sun. *r~ If I Were Santa Claue. If only I were Santa Claus I'd travel east and west To every hovel where there lies a little child at rest: I'd drive my reindeer over roofs they'd never trod before,, I'd seek the tenements where sleep the babies on the floor; Where rags are stuffed in broken panes to keep the wind away. And where a warm and cozy room la never known today, For even there 1 know I'd find hung up the stockings small As signs that they expected me on Christ mas eve to call. If only I were Santa Claus, I'd pass the mansions by And seek the cold and cheerless homes where pale fared youngsters lie; And as they slept I'd pause a while and bending low, I'd kiss The lips of every little tot—not one of them I'd miss; And then I'd fill their stockings full of toys and sugar plums, And leave them sleighs and skates and dolls and Teddy bears and drums I would not pass a cottage by but I would try to be A Santa Claus to every tot who still haa faith in me. If only I were Santa Claus—I'd make ths mothers glad. The dear, hardworking mothers who at Christmas time are sad: The. kind and patient mothers, who rock their babes to sleep, And through the lonely hours of night sob bitterly and weep. They see their precious little ones half clad and hungry, too. Knowing the sorrow that must come to them when night is through: To every mother's face I'd bring tho smiles once more, and we Would spend a while together at her babies' ChrlstmaR tree. —Detroit Free Press. Queen Mary’s Pudding. In the Strand Magazine appears tho recipe for the Christmas plum pudding which is compounded In the huge kitchens at Windsor castle. Here It Is' One and one-half pounds suet (finely shredded), one pound Demerara sugar, one nound small raisins, one pound plums (stoned and cut In half), four ounces citron (cut Into thin slices), four ounces candled pell (cut Into thin slices), teaspoonful of mixed spice, half a grated nutmeg, two teaspoons of salt, one pound breud crumbs, one half pound sifted flour, one pound of eggs (weighed In their shells,', win* glass of brandy. Beat the eggs to a froth and then add to them half a pint of new milk and mix the various In* gredlents. Let the mixture stand for 12 hours In a cool place. Then pines In moulds and boll for eight hours. The above would make three ordinary sized puddings. A Christmas Petition. Tts Christmas time! Though we rears* Its many forced expenses We pretend to like the gifts we get And our friends make like pretenses. Both, for ourselves, be this our plea. And those who recompense us— Forgive us our Christmases as we Forgive those who Christmas against us! —Larolyu Wells, ka Harpers Msgazlns YANKEE GIRL MAY GET THRONE OF CLEOPA TRA PWJW' _ _ L The Princess Ibrahim Hassan, formerly lumphreys. Princess Ibrahim Hassan Urged to Return to Royal Hubby— May Leave Stage. PROPOSITION LURES HER Berlin. Special: An American girl may yet ascend a throne. This ro mantic prospect Is already being dis cussed in Europe, where the girl is now sojourning, and where she has Just been the recipient of an urgent appeal from Abbas Hllmi, the reign ing khedlve of Egypt. The girl before whom the flattering prospect unrolls Is the Princess Ib rahim Hassan, formerly Miss Ola Humphreys of Oakland, Cal., and wife of a first cousin of the Egyptian khe dive; the throne is none other than that upon which sat Cleopatra some 2,000 years ago. Some few years ago Miss Hum phreys, a girl of wealth who had gone on the stage to satisfy her ambitions, met the prince while on a visit to London He was brilliant, cultured, fascinating. He wooed her persistently, and finally, in spite of' the warnings of many friends, she married him. There was a brief honeymoon in Paris, and then the prince took his wife to his great palace in Cairo. She had expected to live in Africa the gay, free life of an American girl, but how profoundly she was disappointed. She became a prisoner in the great palace, closely guarded, and was permitted to see no man but her husband. Fine dresses from Paris and every luxury were heaped upon her. But she was denied her liberty. -- This was Intolerable. In the summer following her marriage she coaxed her husband to take her to Paris. There, although closely guarded, she made her escape and returned to America. She later came to Europe and has recently made plans to return to the stage. She May Quit Stage. The khedive has heard of her de termination to go on the stage, and is urging a reconciliation. Quite re cently he called upon the princess in Berlin and begged her to go back to her husband. He pointed out to her that Prince Hassan was near in the line of succession to the Egyptian throne. He offered her all sorts of rewards and honors if she would re frain from going on the stage and go back to Egypt. The princess replied that she would consider returning to Egypt only un der certain conditions. These were that if she went back to her husband she should be treated exactly like an American wife; that she should be free to see any man she pleased and that she should have the right to go any where she liked without being followed by attendants. She required a writ ten agreement, signed before an Amer ican consul, guaranteeing these condi tions. The khedive was unable to give her the guarantees she asked, owing to the fact that his cousin was in the field in Turkey and could not be reached immediately. He declared, however, that he w’ould order the prince to sign the stipulation. In the meantime the princess has halted her plans for going back to the stage, and is wondering whether she would cut as much of a figure on the Egyptian throne as Cleopatra did some 2,000 years ago. WHITE HOUSE BABY TO WINTER A T WASHINGTON _ MISS ESTHER CLEVELAND. Mis* Esther Cleveland, known the country over as “The White House Baby," daughter of the late President Grover Cleveland and Mrs. Cleveland, plans on spending at least a part of the winter with friends in Washington. Miss Cleveland recently made her debut to society at her mother’s beautiful home, “Westlands," at Princeton, N. J. A LADY’S SCISSORS AND SOLDIER’S BUTTONS From the Christian Herald. Before the late gathering of our war ships In the harbor at New York, wom en were solemnly warned, or meekly implored, by the press not to debut ton the United States navy. Feminine visitors have a well-known fancy for buttons as souvenirs. The best way to secure the coveted prize is. of course, to get your officer friend to cut »> button off his uniform with his sword for Vou. But this might not be handy —and to have an officer friend wearing a sword and willing to cut a button off for you is the fortune of few. So, It is said, women have a trick of slipping out a pair of scissors and snipping off a button from any officer or marine who will submit. It was a matter of comment that the Duke of Abruzzl was literally stripped of his buttons on the occasion of the visit of the Italian fleet, to the Jamestown exposition. The Italians were astounded and did not know what to make of it. The reason 'at the bottom of this "habit” lies not alone in the passion of the curio hunter or In feminine desire for a mili tary hatpin or brooch. It lies in wom an's admiration for heroism; and she connects heroism with the military and naval uniforms. Let her keep the sentiment and leave the button! The French government is planning to grant a bounty to each Ashing ves sel equipped with wireless apparatus and an annual allowance for mainten ance. ———————^T—— Child Mother, Father: Love j ^ A STORY OF NEW YORK. Arthur Swan, in the Sioux City Tribune. ! .___1 I. Awoli t*M me this little story to alabfc-<sr rather, last night, for 1 Just heat'd Vi« hall clock strike an early hour. It happened last Christmas, to be exact; but I hope you will think It none ».!?o lee* worthy for that; because h la being told In print for the first Ume today. You won't find this a Christmas tale of the conventional kind—but, of course, you would hardly expect that from Aucassln. Here there is no Santa Clau3, no angels, no stockings, no mis tletoe; and the plot and characters are not funny. Moreover—but let us see! II. She felt in her heart, she told her self at least, that this would be the unhappiest Christmas she had ever had; and though she was only 23 her Christmases had not been a long se ries of joyous holidays. Now she had the baby, of course; but a baby is not always quite enough. A baby minus love does not equal happiness. But he was good to her; indeed, since the little one's coming he had been kinder and more considerate of her than ever before—not, for that matter, that he had ever been unfair. But hi3 kindness, she tried to make herself be lieve, was only his pity; and she knew that though she didn’t exactly or de liberately mean to. she was showing him that she recognized his interest in her for what she held it to be. To celebrate Christmas alone—there Is no such thing; and she was virtually without a friend in the city. It was different tvlth him; he "was a man-—he was free. She was thankful to him, naturally, for the help he was giving her. It was another matter when she was employed at the publishing house. She didn't fear the world then. But now! Typewriting at home was not a very remunerative business— though perhaps, after all, it really was better than to give up the child and go out. That day, however, might soon come. She shuddered to think of it; but of course she must not overlook that he was only a man, like all other men. But she was aware also that he did not have much more than he needed, and that he was perhaps foregoing a number of pleasant things for the sake of her and her baby. She must give him credit for that, and she thought She did; in her heart she had always considered him as being just a little better than ordinary men. He brought her typewriting to do. chiefly stories of his own; and he told he that she earned whatever outlay he made for her. But she knew better, certainly The rent bills alone that lie paid far exceeded all the typewriting 3he had ever done for him. He didn’t complain now. But how long ccuid it last? III. He was disgusted with himself. He hadn’t been so ill at ease, so “nervous all over,’’ so “all unstrung" as far back as he could recall. He was free on the afternoon of Christmas eve, and he went out to Brooklyn again to look at the little flat he had in an aberration entered on the preceding Sunday. He took pains now to make sure of the rent and the desirability of the Imme diate neighborhood. Why did he do such things? he asked himself on his return to town, and he replied, a* was his wont, “It’s my crazy temperament!” He had observed that she cared less for him now than ever before, which pained him. Yet he was Just fool enough to go about romancing them selves upon every occasion, to look at flats that he never should rent. He thought that she blamed him for the "accident." as he still referred to it, though incredibly; and he reflected that of course she had the right to blame him He could do no more now than to stick by her till she was on safe ground again, and then they must part. A liaison such as theirs, built. not upon conventional lov®, but upon, mutual agreement, could end no other' way. He had read about that in books. He remembered having read also that after the child's arrival the man be comes masterful, the woman subservi ent. Perhaps it was unique but he was actually in fear of her now, something he had never been before. It was an agreeable fear, of course—a sort of1 dumb admiration. He had not before thought her so lovely as now—most particularly as she sat with her child—his child—at her breast. No, it was not the child alone, though it in part doubtless ex plained his feeling—it was a kind of rebirth he had gone through, and sha, the mother, had turned his goddess. IV. It had never entered his mind to spend Christmas eve with any one but her. On his way from the subway sta tion to the house in which she lived he passed through a block of slums—not of the worst degree, but sufficiently bad. This evening he paused for a few moment at a street corner where a hurdy-gurdy man was grinding out ragtime tunes. He was doing it for pennies and nickels, of course; but th® V passer-by never considered that. He saw only the ragged urchins dancing 1 in the dirty street. There must have f been more than a dozen of them, boys f and girls together; and he went into a neighboring shop and got J1 worth of nickels, which he took care in dis tributing among them. The grinder swore vehemently, both in English and Italian; and the passer-by went on. When he entered her room he mad® no preamble; he didn’t even kiss tha baby» as was his custom. “I want to tell you now, though it’s Christmas eve, that I’m dissatisfied with everything. I am very sorry you have changed toward me as you have. I don't blame you, not at all—but I’m sorry. I want you to know that I've never regretted the baby’s coming. Yes, I know. I’ve said it superficially many a time to soothe you, but now I say it for myself, I can’t go on in this way— I can't! I want you to live with me. You mean more to me at this moment than all the rest of the world!’’ "Do you think I could marry you— I'm not so low as that. We did not and spoil your career, your life? No! come together as lovers. I think we both made that plain at the begin ning. It's too late to change now. You —I—I—” But she burst into sobs. "No, r.o!” he cried out; and she was not unwilling in her weakness to have him draw her closely to him. "You’re ’t all wrong! Our union is no mere ro- \ mantic attachment which died at the \ end of the honeymoon. Our marriage is built upon a stronger foundation than that, an intimate and experienced knowledge of each other. It’s the real, the natural union, nothing less. We’re beyond and above the reach of church '. and state; all the priests and all the L laws of the land can’t made us more married than we are tonight. Don’t you—can't you understand?’’ She said nothing, but she remained in his embrace. “We can go through the form of a civil ceremony now, not for ourselves, of course, but for the sake of the littl® one; we mustn’t handicap him. You know. I’m really not jealous of him. I’d want the first place in your heart, of course; but I’ll be glad of the sec ond. Dove the little chap, love him with all—’’ , She kissed him through her tear®, many times, on the lips, and said: "Oh, how I’ve longed and prayed for this! I’ve wanted you always—for my self alone—you!” V. This in substance is the story Aucas sin told me. A strange Christma® story, you say. Well, perhaps. But might it not be entitled "The Humility of Dove?’’ And is not that the spirit of Christmas? Christmas Snow. The air Is full of frozen flowers; The snow, the snow Is falling. And all the voices of the north Upon the winds are calling. Come, high winds, low winds, slr.g across the snowing Swells and falls and dying lulls and wild breath blowing. Weird realm of wonder and of awe. With Ice fields darkly crashing. Where cohorts of the cold go forth. With great auroras flashing. Tour high winds, low winds, blow across the meadows. Blow, with all your bitter will, with all your eery shadows. Blow, you dark north, o'er hill and dale. With many a mile of drifting, From dawn till purple twilight blow. Swift, swift your silver sifting, fet sweet world, yet glad world, despite the stormy singing, fhe heart of all the earth is warm while Christmas bells are ringing -Harriet Prescott Spofford In St Nich olas. NOVEL IDEA FOR A NEW YEATS DANCE Pretty Climax for Cotillion Is Suggested—Gifts for New Years. BY MADAME MERRI. It seems strange to be planning par ties for ' next year." and it is almost impossible to realize that 1912 Is so close at hand. I am asked by many of our young readers who are tasting the first Joys of "society'' and going to holiday functions to give them some novel idea for a New Year’s dance. I think this scheme quite fetching: Have a florist make a large bell of wire, cover the frame with holly, a rim of mistletoes adds to the attraction. Get balls of confetti, tvrap in white tissue paper, dip in liquid glue, then in diamond dust; place these balls in side the bell, paste paper across tne bottom, permitting four ribbons of red and green to come through from the clapper. When the hostess wishes, four guests pull the ribbons, each guest gets a ball and merry pelting with confetti follows, and all wish each other a "Happy New Year." This Is best for the close of the party. If the tarty winds up with a cotillion the fatvoi's may be horns, bells, calendars, and *11 good luck symbols. For the New Year. In France it Is the general custom bo l resent one's friends with a gift at j lew Year's, and I find many peo ple *o it here. Many of us lova all occs sinus on which we have the op >>ri unity oi ’-emembertng q"_r loved aw. N.sre it a charming veruelst to sect tzipaip the gift from a sweet koa.X: Another year of smilee and tears. Another year of grief or glee. Another year of all my years I dedicate to thee. Diaries and “Line-a-Day” books are always acceptable gifts, and doubly valuable If inscribed with a sentiment like this, written In the giver's owp hand: My sheets invite The hand to write Each day on one Of something done— I trust, no 111; But better still A blotted scrawl That naught at all. All those who contemplate havleg / friends to watch the New Year i In will welcome this invitation and W seal the envelope with a "bell'' seal, or write the message in gold on a white bell-shaped cord: add hour and address with name of hostess: Soon toe midnight bell wili chlma, "One lap more for Father Time I” Come with song and merry din Help us bring the New Year in! CHRISTMAS CHARADES. Here is a novel suggestion for the hostess at a Christmas party, bent on securing an attractive diversion for her young guests. The game is called book charades. It requires no rehearsing and is lots of fun. Prepare cards with numbers from one to 20, or the number of charades you are to have and let the guests write down the ones they guess. For a prize give a book candy box filled with bon bons or salted r.jts. Here are a few suggestions for suit able subjects for book charades. They are very easy to arrange: "Looking Backward”—A girl walks across the stage with her head turned over her shoulder. "The First Violin"—Some one holds up a violin on which the number 1, cut from white paper, has been ported. “We Two”—A man and gtJi walk across the stage, arm in arm. “The Brass Bowl"—A girl walks for ward carrying a brass bowl. "Lavender and Old Lace" Is repre sented by a girl dressed In lavender gown trimmed with old lace. "When a Man Marries”—A man and a girl walk across the stage while some one plays the wedding march. "The Light That Failed"—One girl carries a lighted candle which another girl blows out. "The Gentleman From Indiana"—A man carrying a suitcase which Is con spicuously labeled "John Jones, Indi ana. ” "Vanity Fair”—A girl gazing Into a looking glass. “A Study In Scarlet"—A girl seated In reverie, wearing a scarlet dress. "The Bow of Orange Ribbon"—A girl or a man wearing a huge bow of orange ribbon. "The Bride of the Mistletoe"—A girl dressed as a bride but wearing a wreath of mistletoe. “A Certain Rich Man”—A man wear ing a tag which says in big letters , "John D." "Front Sea tq »•*”—Two huge letter C's are cut from wlille paper and pinned to the curtains tn each side of the stage and the players walk from one to the other. "The Ascent of Man"—A man cllmb ! ing gravely to the top of a stepladder and remabna seated there. / *