The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

tb you! when it‘s winter there, E3. the snow ist ever‘where, E5. Mandy‘s Ma she say : . they‘ll freeze to death some day. *, }Wunst my Ma and Meâ€"when we â€" e‘n to church, and‘s u&n' to be purty soon,â€"we went like the Committee sent. xC I %nd my Ma she telled her we oin‘ to have a Chris‘musâ€"Tree At the Sunday School, ‘at‘s fer ‘All the children, and fer her. Little Mandy thinkâ€"nen she Say, "What is a Chris‘musâ€"Tree?t" Nen my Ma she gived her Ma Bomepin‘ ‘at I saw. r pore children"â€"my Ma saysâ€" d Committee say they guess * ittle Mandy‘s Tree" ‘ull be ger than the other Tree! â€" (Oopyright, by Bobbeâ€"Merrili Gag . _, tle Mandy, though she don‘t awerâ€"and Ma say "she won‘t ver, though each year they‘ll be * tle Mandy‘s Chris‘musâ€"Tree.!‘ . \lh‘_‘llll he whispers, so he Teacher cars, you know. he tiptoe back and go the big doorâ€"ist as slow! | all git our toys and things old Santy Claus he brings puts on the Tree;â€"wite where big Tree ‘us standin‘ there. s behind the big Treeâ€"so can‘t see till nen, you know,â€" it‘s all ist loaded down h the purtiest things in town! the things ‘uz all tooked down, the childerns, all in town, their presentsâ€"nen we see r‘s a little Chris‘musâ€"Tzee. & no frontâ€"door steps at allâ€" a‘ old box ‘g‘inst the wall; s no winderâ€"shutters on, some of the winders gone, } where they ‘uz broke they‘d pas‘e brown paper ‘crost the place. 284 :J Lived in poorest hou in town, the fence ‘uz all tore down. ~â€"My! but they ‘uz poor! ITTLE Mandy and hber ‘B poorest folks you ever smile and say: *"This here Tree ‘at‘s hid away It‘s marked ‘Little Mandy‘s Tree!‘ Little M a n d y 1 Where is she?" Nen nobody say a word. Stillest place yowr ever heard! Till a man :iptoe up where Nen we comed away . . . And nen When its Chris‘mus Eve again, f And all of us chilâ€" derns be ; At the Church aud Chris‘musâ€"Tre® â€" j Anc say she must take it,â€"and She ist maked her keep her hand Wite close shut, and nen she kiss Her handâ€"shut ist ike it is. waiting there. saw! , B SR Wallington held out his hand. "Goodâ€" by. stranger, and good luck to you. it was a mere trifie. Happy to have been able to give you a lift." Then he went up to Frenchy‘s bash house and had his dime‘s worth of coffee and "My friend," said the stranger. "I could not have endured it another day â€"but of course you have never known what it is to go two days without food. And when tonight you go home and sit down to your table to your feast, remember that there is an outâ€" cast fellow being upon the streets who is blessing every mouthful that you eat. Goodâ€"by, Christian." "Al right," he announced at length. ‘"Being‘s its Christmas eve I‘ll take a chance on you even if you are down and out. Tell your friend to order what he wants." So Wailington and the stranger sat down together and Wallington watched his companâ€" fon fill himself with good things until at last with his stomach again curved the right way, the droop gone from his shoulders and the feverish light vanâ€" ished from his eyes, the gorged one arose. I want you to fill him up to the chin on good, solid food and charge it to me. 1 will not ask you for any favor again if you will do this last thing." The proprietor looked at his old paâ€" tron thoughtfully. ‘_They entered the restaurant and Wallington walked straight up to the ‘proprietor. "Bob," said he, "I owe you a pretty stiff bill, but I am going to go to work in a week and then I will begin paying you off. Now I want you to do me a last favor. I owe you about forty dollars, and a couple of dollars more won‘t make much differâ€" ence to you. It is Christmas eve and‘ my friend over there is starving. Now "For God‘s sake, stranger, buy me something to eat. I am penniless and upon the verge of committing crime. I have worn out my shoes looking for work, and while I have a job promised me it will be a week before it is open. And meanwhile I am starving, friend, starving. In the name of Christianity ;spare me enough for a meal out of } your plenty." | _ Wallington stared into the evening dus he fingered his last â€" and )lflo{â€";;l’y worn dime. He knew well enough what this other man was sufâ€" fering, for had be not been in the same stage twentyâ€"four hoturs before! {‘And to give a man a dime in such a on a time few men had been able to reaist. He took the stranger by the arm. "Come with me," he commanéâ€" ‘case was so grossly inadequate. Yet ;what could he do? He turned about. Close ‘before him was a restaurant where he had spent hundreds of dolâ€" jJars in his palmy days and whose proâ€" prietor he knew well. Yet he owed !blll there for his last big after theater .dinner party of many months ago, and ‘he had never had the courage even in ‘his semiâ€"starvation to go in and ask ‘for more credit. Â¥Yet now it must be done, for here was a human being starving upon the streets. Wal lington shuddered. It was plainly his duty to fill this man‘s stomach, and for the last time he would exert those powers of persuasion which once np-] Beside him there stood a gaunt man with cavernous cheeks, feverish, wildâ€" ish eyes, and a stomach that curvred theâ€" wrong way. The apparition adâ€" dressed him in a croaking voice. felt that he could endure it no longer, that the last and most desperâ€" ate extremity hbad arrived and that now he must spend his dime. He was plunged deep in meditation when he felt someone touch his arm and turned about. f #ould change stones into bread and serpents into fowl!; then all at once‘ he found himself in the throes of bankruptcy. He had exhausted his * resources and was for the time being hopelessly insolvent. Day by day his little bandful of reâ€" maining change vanished in stgadily diminishing ratio as his meals beâ€" came cheaper and further apart, unâ€" til finally he had but a dime left. This coin he resolved to save for some last and most degpprate extremity, and he even determined to fast for days be Soreâ€"parting â€"with â€"1t.~~Andâ€"fast ~tor days he did, while oft times the days came much too fast: When Christmas eve came he had not tasted food for three days. He &6 ®bt Wrifle In January they traded in that magâ€" nlflg_«u punch bow! for three tons of a cent! A great, big, glittering, magâ€" mificent Punch Bow!! Nobody had thought of that! But, to make sure, I sent the sales ticket with it and told the Platts they could exchange the punch bow!, if they, wished, for something they liked better. And what do you suppose‘ those Platts did? And then I saw it. It was in a de partment store, and marked down from $50 to $26.60! There it was, to The next day 1 looked again. But either a thing was too expensive or I would have money left. It is reraarkâ€" able bow few things there are in the world you can buy for $26.60, no thought some one had turned in a genâ€" eral alarm. They couldn‘t wait for me to get back. There they wereâ€"28 of them, (that is, 27, or 28 with me). They all had suggestions, and they were all different. ldea, that is, of course, except Mr. Platt, whom, of course, I didn‘t conâ€" eul:. So I got up a subscription paper and went to everybody in the office (exrcept Mr. Platt, of course). I got $26.60, including ten cents from the janitor, who wasn‘t expected to give. anything but wanied to give someâ€" thing, which shows just how popular ‘Mr. Platt was with everyone in the building," when a janitor eyen ‘would | chip in. . _ Christmas shopping is hard enough, gooduess knows, when you do it for yourself; but when ~u do it for a stock company capit.lized at $26.60, with 28 stockholders, with 28 different ~inds of ideas and tastes, then Christâ€" mas shopping rises above a mere anâ€" noyance to the dignity of a real trouâ€" ble. And that‘s what I was up against. I thought it would be nice to get au expression of opinion. So I went around one morning and asked for | Ideas. But I couldn‘t get a word. Noâ€" body could thinx of anything. I couldn‘t myseif. At noon I went out and looked,. I walked miles. I priced. then I went back to the office. You should have seen was a splendid But Mr. Platt is one of the nicest men in the office, that is, be was before this happened. So I felt we ought to do something for him, just to show our good willâ€"and, anyhow, we‘ve dug down for others we thought much less of, so why shouldn‘t we for him? But the wedding was over, without inâ€" Iollhueut except ‘the suburban. minister who tied the knot, the cabâ€" man who drive them out there and thei girl from the minister‘s kitchen, who! was a witness, and left a thumbâ€"print: dmnmmuhm; frying doughnuts at the time) and the! minister‘s wife (at least the name was the same). *Let‘s see, where was I? Oh, yes, when the Platts were marâ€". ried, it being that kind of a wedding. there was no chance to send them a m.mulwu.ldhnllhlh‘ do, or to have done, (whichever is The head bookâ€" T‘m, He most probably wouldn‘t have some at all if it hadn‘t been for that She stiffened visibly and all her love was swallowed up in a wave of rebel Jous pride, "You are mistaken," she commenced »idiy, but Billy interrupted her. ‘Here, 1 bave found it. 4. *‘M1 bornty is as boundloss as th8 ‘ sea, My love as deep, the more I give to thee.‘ ‘‘The more 1 have, for both &re inâ€" inite," he was reading, and the simple seauty of the lines awoke something m Marjorie stronger than pride or reâ€" sentment and she only smiled when he 1dded tenderly: "My Christmas sreetâ€" ag to you, dear." â€" to you," he told hber, and diving into his pocket he produced a little copy of "Romeo and Juliet." Marjorie was surprised for a second, then it flashed over her what it all meant. Brown & Co. had forgotten to sancel her order and Billy had re :eived the books. RBilly had constreed aer sending them into a humble plea for forgiveness, unless I apologized," Marjoriq explainâ€" ed mischievously. ‘"You didn‘t think Td be so narrow and unforgiving as to ignore your dear little peace offering? 1 brought one of the books with me to read sometbing to you." he told her and Alvine imsa then "Glad I came? Why wouldn‘t I come, dear?" he asked. "O, Billy, I am so glad you came." BMiy took some little time to emphaâ€" size his appreciation of her welcome, Sn in PD 4 h nE cce A Why this »miden contrition, when, she admitted it now for the first time, even to herself she had been greatly, If not altogether, to blame for their tention. It was no less a person than Billy himseif who was coming, post haste, to see her. % 2 Marjorie looked at him in wonâ€" ting I was wrong, when I know J wasn‘t," she argued with berself. a The joyous ringing of Christmas bells and merry shouts of her younger sisters and brothers, when they digâ€" tovered their stockings the next morpâ€" ing, only served to emphasize her d& presslon. * ¢ ~*‘Billyâ€"never loved me:; if he really and truly did he never could treat me like this," she told herself as she stood looking with unseeing eyes at the snowy â€"Christmas world. Just then a young xin;n, fairly tearâ€" ing around the corner, arrested her atâ€" know that isn‘t the:right kind of & Christmas spirit to; have, but I can‘t have Billy thinking that I am admitâ€" @ously busy wrapping up daiuty little darcels, for the next day was Christâ€" mas, and her many friends must be remembered, in spite of quarrels and Billy, sml.tbommdrmnm-nt cupied over her work, and quite aui Genly she threw aside the pioce of doing it," she continued, the ever ready dimples venturing out of their hiding places, but she banished them severely. ~"I‘ll never,> Rever “:3' him, even though he asks me to, whi¢ of course, he won‘t! And he etl!n_’o‘ stubborn!" have shaken me, if be hadn‘t rushed out in tinfe to prevent himself trom Zotas e# LK uc lcs i. Cl you vowed you wouldn®% mow, and 1 could not live here on anâ€" other man‘s thousands." A smile hovered over the woman‘s face as she fiitted hore and there, ‘busily preparing things for a meai. ‘Then she siipped behind a chair, and Jeaning over whispered with burning cheeks: . _ "Perhaps you do not know, Gerald, thatâ€"that Mr. Townley‘s money goes ‘back to his family ifâ€"if I marry sgain." | . WThe man ‘sprang to his feet and t0ok her into his strong arms again. "It is not to6 late," he cried. "We Sate atill young. Will you let me try to make you happy?" * Her answer was drowned in the burst of Christmas belis that pealed from the village church close by. But he did not need her words; bée could ese her eyes. t little table laid § for two, daintily s p re a d with iCA Christmas fare. "Yes," she answered. "I am quite alone. I have often come down here." . "But you are expecting somebody T" he said, calling attention to the table. : She flushed prettily, looking almost as young as she bad !nhhdmm-al‘ the morning, as she repiied: . *"I was erpecting you, Gerald." He smiled happily at her; then the smile faded, and he sighed as he sank into a chatr. ‘This is all foolishness, Nance," he ‘said sadly. "You could not live here dn the old days, you could do so less l long ago, came floating through the unjatched door. :.: Half believing that it must be fancy ‘leading him still, he entered the house softly, and, following the voice, went finto the inner room, and stood in the ‘glow of the warm firelight. _____, ___ The sweet, tiredâ€"faced, middleâ€"aged ‘singer turned as his shadow fell ‘a«zoss the light, and then stood white and trembling. | The strong man‘s voice broke as he :held out his arms. * "Nance!" he cried joyfully. "Gerald‘" she whispered. "Gerald! have you comeâ€"to reproach me? Not today! Not today!" sight of the house he stopped in surâ€" prise. He had exrpected to see dirt, ruin, and decay, but instead he looked upon a trim, wellâ€"kept cottage, and a soft, crooning song, in a voice which weawakened the tender memories of as.being thronged, and a great ::fi,ivgcmu-. â€" This was not what he wanted. From _bis: pocket ~o drew out the scrap of i . whigh Bad really brought him ~so miles, and looked at it bitâ€" terly. l"‘lm.‘“w ment cut from a paper of a year ago, and ran in the usual wayâ€""Michael Townley, at his residence," etc. ing out on the desolate, street which he had always as.being thronged, and m,h@ over him. This was not what he wants y e 0 d scenes. And so he had tsaveled two days and nights in a sigeper, vaguely connecting his jourâ€" :zuuvm-nu.hnmm his starved nature was demand ing. ; When he arrived at his old club on a chill, grey Chrisgtmas morning, it was only to find that fifteen years‘ wilent absence had been too severe a test for friendship. The place was t:rvdmnmndw wore strange, unwelcoming faces. 9 a T is not so many centuries * ago since there was that holy thorn at Glastonbury which blossomed every Christmas, and, so ran the legend, had done ever sincs 8t. Joseph of Arimathea, having come as apostle to Britain, and, landing at Glastonbury, had stuck his staff of dry hawthorn into the soil, commanding it The legend which tells bow the very hay which lined the manger in which the Holy Babe was laid put forth livâ€" ing red blossoms at midwinter at the ‘touch of the Babe‘s body could only have arisen from belief in the renewal bf Hife through the Lord of Life, a belief that no evil can touch any child who is born on Christmhas eve. An Trish legend tells that, on Christâ€" mas eve, the Christâ€"Child wanders out ‘in the darkness and cold, and the [peasants still put lighted candles in ‘their windows to guide the sacred litâ€" tle feet, that they may not stumble on their way to their homes. And in Hungary the p~ople go yet furthér in their tenderness for the Child, they spread feasts and leave their doors open that He may enter at His wiil, while throughout Christendom there is j â€" LL Arounhd the season‘ of the Coming of Love as a little Child there have sprung legends and beâ€" liefs, like blossoms in ‘m gracious clime, which testify with subtiety to the depth of the appeal of the birth of Christ. (Here divinely ‘spiritual symbolism and there sweet human tenderness and pathos appear, and, blended, they evidence the world‘s belief that this was both Son of Man and Son of God. S\ Where the winter frost all&fdy has lain? ZHR _ °* ~| \They are soulless eives, in would + Kn °o [ . (Wishin, and laugh at our Chyri ~? s jt\ing fieetly, chimes}! ‘Swi i hymes 2t ‘They are made_ofithe lla*iu'm $ 3 & olp Thom. \__Under the holly bough, _ : """" ere the happy children 'thmg%@ I~ ?lh% shadow seems to flit about?> it ;?;tl%g.mo:her, then, who died: <a _ mflmm,hnW? K HustP/falling chimes!" Cease, cease., 4 4v007/ 2VOLZ\e\ \f 2 s .;',;‘ Carols each Christnids bell ?;».;;.:§\/ \Vhatmthcw § iis at gather anear the /wiiffowâ€"nane wests / In those days the anniversary of ta trace of Christmas bounty and ‘will, and he called to the sea, «as of old, obeyed his volce, the city of sin, was buried . out of sight, beneath the. wares. ever at Christmas up from benesth covering waters comes the sweot ¢ ing of church bells buried in M# a legend which appears parable that nothing Which‘ aver flonged to the Christ, snd cated to his service, is ever from him and alienated from that ever and again something of inherent beauty and compelling ness rises from the depths through. bloom at the Christseason, jut their parent, which had grown ‘Bt. Joseph‘s staff, had bloomed. ‘about the middle of the 1§th cer 1t was recorded in the Gentlien Magazine how the famous holy t would not deign to recognize the style calendar, which had then « Anto force but would persist in soming as of old on old Obris jto put forth leaves and biossomms. jthe staff straightway did, and the ‘was the king converted to the C |tian faith, the faith which preat ilife from death. :_ ‘The holy thorn of Glastonbury # ished during the centuries until civil wars. During those it was rooted; but several persons had itrees growing from cuttings from original‘ tree, and those continu®i Cla «* ; M ale‘