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.
/ *