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io
\ ssZ&f : ' ' > i ] s ga B * * # <
* z * * . 'A * &
a\ / VjiHATball I give my loved
Islt'
( one
m :
IS /t For a Christmas sift to
? ? sf night ?
= S How can I tell the- story
My pen refuses to write ?
I would give lier gums of li ht
From tbo caverns deep of nichl :
Opals , rubies , emeralds green ,
Diamonds bright v , ith fiery sheen ;
All the spices , rich and strong ,
From the eastern lands of song ;
Perfumes heavy , musk and nard ,
Ambergris , opaque and hard ;
And the tissues soft and rare ,
That Circassian beauties wear ,
That with clinging , tender fold ,
All her charms should closely hold.
I would give her castles fair
Far in Spain's ambrosial air ,
Tall and stately , sheened with gold ,
Ivy grown and gray and old.
* * * * * *
Since I cannot give her these
For I lack the needful pelf
I will give her , if she plc.e ,
All I have my life , my self.
DAVID A. CURTIS.
aelites
OODBY , Henrj- , " said the
warden , holding out Inn
hand.
"Goodby"said the man
as he grasped his late jailer's hand ;
"goodby , " .1 bit huskily. "I thank
you sir for all your kindness' '
"Oh , that's all right ! " said the warden
cheerily. "I try to do what's right ;
that's all. Just you do that in the
future , Henry , and I shall never see you
here again. Good luck to you. "
The great doors clanged behind Henry
Johnson as he stepped out of the prison ,
where he had served six years , four
months and twenty-five days not the
full sentence he had received , for the
benefit of the allowance for good be
havior had been his. But six years is : i
long time , long enough to change a man
for better or worse
"With a new suit of clothes , a ticket to
New York and twenty-three dollars
Johnson walked away , once more a free
man.
man.He
He had looked forward to this day for
years. He had dreamed of it on Inn
hard bed in his lonely cell the day on
which he would be liberated , on which
his revenge would begin.
It was here at last. Johnson wis sur
prised at his Fentatious. Instead of
shouting , leaping or crying for joy , he
was walking along us quietly as though
setting out on a visit to friends.
Ah , friends ! The word brought him
to a realizing sense of what was before
him. Friends indeed ! In all the wide
world had he a single friend ?
With lightning rapidity the events of
the last eight years swept before him.
He saw himself honored and respected ,
holding a position of trust in a banking
house , laying by a tidy little sum for
the home which , was to be his and hers
in the near future.
Then came the scandal , the embezzle
ment , the mystery , the plot which
wrecked his life and sent him to prison
for a crime of which he was innocent.
Then , through that inexplicable channel
by which news drifts from the outer
world to those in prison , he had learned
of the prosperity of the man who in his
soul he was convinced had ruined him ,
and of his marriage to the woman John
son had loved.
The train for New York swept around
the curve , and the smoothly shaven man
in the ill fitting clothes , with despair on
his face and hell in his heart , crept on
and slunk into a corner by the door. He
peered out the window to catch a last
glimpse of the high stone wall and the
sentry stalking solemnly up and down.
"How soon will I be back ? " he asked
himself.
Then as the gloom deepened on hia
haggard face he muttered , "When I
come back it will not be for embezzle
ment , but for murder. "
For Johnson had in those six dreary
years of captivity calmly and coolly
formulated his plan of revenge. He
had decided to kill John Raymond , hia
former friend and business associate ,
just as he would kill a viper that had
stung him.
How when where ? were the words
which jangled ceaselessly through his
brain , keeping time to the clattering of
the wheels over the rails.
ONE OR TWO PASSENGERS TURNED AND
LOOKED AT HIM.
How ? Suddenly , without warning and
mercy. Even as ruin had darted upon
him should the blow descend upon Ray
mond.
When ? At night. Night , with its aw
ful silence andmystery , should surround
and envelop the deed.
Where ? In his own house the house
Raymond had stolen froa him. In its
fancied security , in its seclusion and ele
gance , \vithin calling distance of of
bis wife if possible , would the mur
derer find him.
The mau in the corner of the car
laughed aloud. One or two passengers
near turned aud looked at him , but
quickly withdrew their eyes. There
was no contagious mirth in that laugh ,
and the hinilo on the cruel face was the
smile of a fiend.
That night he crawled into a slovenly
bed in a cheap lodging house on the cast
side. He missed the lonely cell to which
ho had become accustomed , and found
himself wondering if they would give
him his old quarters when he went back.
Next day he prowled about the muddy
streets seeking work. It was Christmas
week , and everybody was too busy to
listen to him. He ate sparingly and
hoarded his little roll of bills , counting
them over and over. A strange attrac
tion lured him to the neighboi'hood of
the bank where ho used to work. At
the doge ot the comber day he stood
and watched the well dressed , well
groomed men emerge from the build
ing. "That is the way I used to look , "
he said to himself , and then lanced
down at his plain clothes and coarse
shoes.
At night the Bowery glittered with
rows of lights that twinkled like evil
eyes. Johnson tramped for many
blocks , pausing now and then to gaze in
the windows at the Christmas decora
tions. There was one display which
fascinated him. In a cutler's window
were stars , crosses and other emblems
formed of smooth , shining , sharp edged
knives. Johnson looked steadily at
them for a long time. Then he went in ,
and selecting one particularly wicked
blade paid for it from the little roll of
bills , thrust it in the breast pocket of
his coat and resumed his tramp.
"Christmas , Christmas , " he muttered
as he plodded on. "What is Christmas
to me ? I'd like to give John Raymond
a Christmas present , curse him , " and
then suddenly he thought what a fine
thing it would be to drive that knife
home in Raymond's heart and attach a
piece of paper to the handle bearing the
inscription , "A Christmas present from
a loving friend. "
"I'll do it ! " he exclaimed. "Yes , I'll do
it on the night before Christmas. What
a merry Christmas it will be for me ! * '
People brushed against him in the
throng. Children shrank at sight of hia
scowling face. On , on ho went , un
mindful of his surroundings.
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fr3 4 y
vife"I
SOMETHING ROLLED DOWN THE CHEEK
OP THE EX-CONVICT.
Suddenly he paused before a great
building into which crowds were pour
ing. He joined the throng and drifted
in. There were lights and music. Some
body a man with a clear baritone voice
was singing something. To the ears of
the Ishmaelite stole these words :
I've found a friend in Jesus ;
He's ever } thinsj to me ;
He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul ,
The Lily of the Valley.
In him alone lice
All I need to cleanse and make me fully whole.
Then suddenly the great audience rose
to its feet and responded :
He's the Lily of the Valley ,
The Bright and Morning Star ;
He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul.
Johnson looked stupidly abotit. Ho
saw faces lined Avith sin and suffering
the faces of thieves and outcasts. But
everybody was singing. He looked at
the platform. It was filled with men
and women dressed in curious fashion ,
in dark blue costumes , with big scarlet
letters on their breasts. During John
son's prison life the Salvation Army had
sprung into existence.
He all my griefs has taken ,
And all my sorrows borne ;
In temptation he's my strong and mighty
tower
rang out the voice like a clarion call.
And once more the poor , sodden way
farers to whom he sang answered :
He's the Lily of the Valley.
The Bright and Morning Star ;
He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul.
Something rolled down the cheek of
the ex-convict.
He put up his hand impatiently to
brush it away.
And then , half stumbling , he hurried
out into the night.
But as ho fled through the fast fall
ing snowflakes he heard again the re
frain well up like a battlecry :
He's the Lily of the Vafley.
Next day as he aimlessly walked
about he came face to face with a man
he had known in his old life. The man
started as if he had seen a ghost , and
then shamefacedly and hesitatingly ex
tended his hand.
"Howdy do , Johnson ? " he said tim
idly."Oh
"Oh , I'm well enough , " said Johnson
with a short , harsh laugh. "I'm trying
to get something to do. Perhaps you
could help me. "
"I oh , no well , you see. just now
everybody's taken up with Christmas. "
"Yes , so I see. "
"Of course you understand it's not an
easy thing to recommend a a"
"A jailbird. "
"Well , er you understand. "
"Yes , I understand. I won't bother
you. I'll get along in some fashion ,
[ 've a little money. But tell me , can yon
give mo any news of Raymond ? "
"Well , yes. You heard about his
failure ? "
"His failure ? No. "
"Yes , lost every cent a year ago. Poor
as a church mouse. Sick , too , I heard a
few days ago. Rheumatism , I believe.
His vife"
I "
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"Yes , yes , his wife. "
"She's supporting him , I understand
sewing. They live somewhere on the
east side in a tenement. Horrible comedown
down ! Well , I can't stand here all day.
Goodby. If I hear of anything" and
he was gone.
Johnson stood looking after him in a
dazed fashion until a gentle hint from
a policeman reminded him he had better
move on.
So Raymond was poor and sick 1m
revenge , then , was partly begun and
that Christmas present ? some way the
thought of killing a poor invalid did not
appeal so strongly to the Ishmaelite
somewhere on the east side ? as well
try to hunt the traditional needle poor ,
sick , and Nelly sewing to support him
well , there was some justice in heaven ,
if not on earth.
-5- -f- " * > *
i It was the night before Christmas
| when Johnson fctrolled again into the
| great rink wheie the Salvation Army
[ was holding its meetings. He listened to
the burning words which fell from the
j lips of a sweet faced woman. She talked
of God's bebt gift to man and spoke of
! peace and good will. Then again the
singer came forward , and again the
strains which had rung in Johnson's ears
for two days rolled to the roof. While
listening eagerly his eyes suddenly fell
upon the face of a woman who was sit
ting three seals from him. A pale , thin ,
shabbily dressed woman.
It was Nelly !
When she rose to go he followed her.
As she hurried away he btealthily crept
behind her , his hand involuntarily
clutching the knife over his heart.
Up a rickety flight of stairs she went ,
and close behind came her pursuer. She
opened the door on the third landing
and went in. He crouched outside ,
i holding his breath.
The door remained ajar.
He looked in and marked the poor
room , with its wretched belongings. Ho
| saw the bed and the sick man bolstered
up by flabby pillows.
"Is that you , Nelly , " he heard Raymond
mend say. "I thought you would never
come. ' '
"Well , John , dear , I just ran into the
rink a moment to hear the singing. It
sounded so sweet as I came along. Hero
is your medicine now. "
"HE WAS INNOCENT , NELLY. "
Then Johnson , listening , straining ev
ery nerve there in the darkness , heard
an awful groan.
"What is it , John ? the pain again ? "
"Yes , yes. Oh , this is terrible ! Nelly ,
[ am dying.
"No , no , dear , you will be better pres
ently. Here , drink this. * '
The sufferer obeyed and sank back
exhausted on the pillows. "Now , "
thought Johnson , "now is my time. I
can rash in and stab him before hia
wife. Why do I not do it ? "
"Poor Nelly ! ' ' said Raymond again ,
"to what have I brought you ? Ah , sin
finds its reward. * '
"Sin , John1'
"Yes. sin. Nelly , I am dying. I must
Speak I must tell you all"
"Hubh , dear , you are excited. Listen
now. I'll sing you to sleep , and tomor
row. Christmas morning , you will be
better. "
And then to the Ishmaelite , his hand
against every man , outside there in the
'larkuess ' , floated in Nelly's sweet voice :
He's the Lily of the Valley.
The Bright and Morning Star.
But she was interrupted.
"I inust speak1 moaned the sick man.
"I will tell you. "
Then the door was softly pushed open ,
and the startled couple saw him. His
face was pale , his featxires working , and
tears were raining down his cheeks.
"No , John , " said the Ishmaelite , "do
not speak. "
But not to be outdone in generosity ,
FVJ ! AWm .M V.tH Xl.'J ' H = rrrHWW..vm f j'V'.Vggl
Raymond raised hinibelf , and with one
supreme effort pointed to Johnson , cry
ing :
"Ho was innocent , Nelly. "
And the bright morning star of Christ
inas shone through the window on three
people , two of whom knelt by the bed
i M
holding the icy hands of the other. Both
on the white face of'the dead and the
living face of the Ishmaelite had set
tled the peace which passeth all tinder-
standing.
Close Ouzirtrrs.
I
" v\ *
Clara 1 hung up my stocking Christ
mas eve , and what do you think I got
in it ? A beautiful umbrella.
Maude It must have been a pretty
tight fit.
Christmas Holly.
The practice of decking churches with
the evergreen is very ancient , says Chat
terbox. On this account our pious fore
fathers gave it the name of "holy tree , "
of which our word holly is a corruption.
Duppa tells us "that branches of this
tree were sent by the Romans to their
friends with their New Year's gifts as
emblematical of good wishes , and the
custom is said to be nearly as old as the
building of Rome itself. " The holly
sometimes attains the height of forty
feet , and when of this large size the wood
is very valuable and is much used by
cabinet makers. It is white , hard , close
grained and takes a very fine polish.
When stained black it is an excellent
imitation of ebony. The long and
straight tough branches are often used
for whip handles and walking sticks.
The leaves of the holly near the ground
are frequently much more prickly than
those toward the top of the tree. This
circumstance forms the subject of a
poem by Southey , in which he says that
though in youth buffetings with the
world may call forth harshness , yet
a man ought to pray that unkind feel
ings may daily wear away
Till the smooth temper of his ago shall be
Like the high leaves upon the holly tree.
Christmas Mummers.
Among other quaint customs still ex
tant are those of the "mummers" and
mummings at Christmas , all common
in Oxfordshire , England. Some wear
masks , some black their faces and others
dress fantastically. They go about sing
ing :
A merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
Your pockets full of money and your cellans
full of heer.
But this is the convivial side. At this
time the following apparently senseless
lines are sung by the yeoman of Somer
setshire :
Here comes I , liddle man Jan ,
With my zword in my han !
If you don't all do
As you he told by I ,
I'll zend you all to York
Vor to make apple pie.
Mum.
i fi y
r- -
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Dashnway I hear , Bobbie , that you
jot a. tntin of cars for Christinas and
; hey had an accident. Tell ino all
about it.
Bobbie I can't say a word. You see ,
L am ono of iho officers of the road. i !
