Lancaster Examiner and Herald

              ^LXII.
LANCASTER/PA., WEDNESBAY, DECEMBER 26,1866.
NO. 6.
pnhlisliea BTefy TVEDKESDAY, lu the ESAMiSBB STOJilBO, No. 4 North ftneon
Street, LanoMter, Pa.' ¦lER3ttS-.^3.00 A TEAR Uf APTAKCE.
NO. A. HTKSTAND, B, *C. KLINE, J. I. HAETaCAlf,
Editors and Proprietors
HOB GOBBLING'S SOKG.
Not from Titania"s Court do I Hither upon a night-moth fly; I am not of those Fairias seen Tripping by moonlight on tho greeu. Whose dewdiop bumpers, nightly pnurod. BefleeU the mushroom's virgin board, And whose Ihint cymbals tinkling clear Bometlmes on frosty nights you hear.
No, I was born of lustier stock, Andall their puling night-sports mock: My fethcr was tho Good Old Time, Famous in mauy a noble rliyme, Who reigned with snch a royal cheer. He made ono Chrlslm.is of the year. And but a single edict pa-ssed. Dooming it instant dcatli to fast.
I am that earthlier, fatter elf
That haunts the wood of pantry-.sholf.
When mlnced-pies, ranged from ond to end.
Up to tho gladdened roof ascend;
On n fat goose I hltlicr rode.
Using a skewer for a goad.
From the rich region of Cockayne,
And must cm mom bo back again.
I am tho plump sprite that prcsidc-s
O'er Thanksgiving and Christinas tldi-s;
ijigll not In woods profound;
Tho barn-yard is my dancing-ground.
Making me music as I can
By drumming ou a patiyp.au;
Or if with .songs your sleep I mar,
A urldiron serves me for guitar.
M'ben without touch the sl.isses clink, And dishe-s on Ihc dressor wink Back at tlio lire, whoso jovial glance Sets tiio gravo pot-lids all adance; When tails of little pigs hang straighi. Unnerved bj- dreams of coming fate; When from the pouUri'-housc yon hoar Midnight alarnms,—I am near.
While tho j)loa.sotl hou.suwif*> shuts hor ryes,
X IIU the crust of temperance plos.
And slip in .slyly two orilireo
Spoonfuls of saving cau do vie :
And, wlill<* tho eookmald restsJicr ihuinb,«,
I stonoa,scL)ro of choicer plums,
And liidi- liieni In the pudding's corner.
In memory of tho brave .fuck Ilorimr.
I put th*-'currants in the buns, Atasic liii- frugal baker .shuns; I for the youtliful miner make Nuggets of citron inthociko; 'Tis I that do\m tho chimney whi]j. And presents iu tho stockings .slii», Wliich fr^uperstltion'.s mniublingJav.-s inscribe to loutish Santa Clans.
'TLs I that hang, as you mny sec. With presents g.iy ihoChristnia-s-triv:    . lint, if s*>:nofoolish girl »>r boy .Should chance to mar tlio cnnimon joy With any sulky look or word. By theui my auger is incurred. And to .".11 such I give fair waruing oriiif;bimares ero to-morrow morning.
CHEISTMAS GKXrsi.
ily diunei' last Clirisfcmiis day consist¬ ed orgruel. Gruel for roast beef, gruel for bo.ir's head, gruel for turkey, gruel for plmn-xmddiug, gruel for mince- pies j for almonds aud raisins, russet apple, filbert, old brown October, tawny port, was.sail,—for all tlie Cliristmas courses and desert,—gruel!
I had looked forward to that Christ¬ mas day with a keen anticipation of pleasure. I was invited,to a conntry house, an old-fashioned country liouse, where Christmas has been kept in great state for many generations; a country house with corridors and oak panels, and an old hall with a great yawning fireplace, specially designed for yule- logs; just such a place as imaginative artists love to sketcli in the Christmas numbers of the illustrated papers aud periodicals. Ivy, hoUi", snow, and robin redbreasts outside; blazing fires, merry faces, warmth, comfort, mistlotoe- bough, and pretty girls inside.
I was arrived at that time of life when I oould enjoy all these things to the full. Observe, I say all. Thero aro periods of existence when a man cau enjoy only some of the things I iiave men¬ tioned. A boy enjoys tho eatables,— the turkey, the plum-pudding, and the almonds and raisins; thb young man takes delight in the society ofthe pretty girls, and can ueitlier eat nor drink for thinking of them. But the middle-aged fogyi—li'^e your humble servant,— what boundless, all-embracing eujoy- meut is his! He cin relisli everything, —turkcj', plum-pudding, almonds and raisins, old port, pretty girls, a nap in his easy-chair, a hand .it cards, a cigar,
he doeaiiot cafe wHat becomes of him. I was at the bottom of this slough of misery and despond on Chrlatmasmom- ing. I had hoped that the tyrant would relax his grip, but I might have known better; he never does; he makes a rule of putting you through the wholo pro¬ cess, the middle part being half murder.
I could not go to Oakhurst to my Christmas dinner that day. Everybody else in the house was going somewhere except the cook, who was an orphan, fifty years of age, a spinster, a hater of lior species, aud one who was accustom¬ ed to say that Sundays and Saturdays, C'liristmasaes and Good Fridays, made no diticrenco to lier.
It was a dreary day after everybod.y had gone. I sat alone by the llrehide, moping and miserable. On orUinaiy da\'S I had more visitors tlian I cared about. To-day nobody camo; not even the doctor, though I had engaged him to attend my case. It was a glorious day for him, knowing what to eat, drink, and tivoid, and seeing otiiers joyously preparing themselves for draughts and pills. But as for poor me, I was ready to ery when I thought of my loneliness, sadness, and desolation on that day when overybodj- else was making merry. Everybody else! Yes, I thought everybody else, except me.
Tlio misanthroiiical cook camo in to ask if I would take a little of the boiled mutton which she had jirepared for her own dinner. Such was that woman's mistinthropj-, such her unchristian con¬ dition, that tiiough she was offered a piece of beef and materials .to mako a little plum-pudding, all to herself, she preferred boiled mutton and a suety dumpling. Tlie cook, I .say, came in to ofler me boiled mutton. I hfid uo aj)- petite, 1 could not swallow. I asked for gruel, and I Iiad it just about the time that "eveO'l>ody" was sitting dowu to turkey. I did not say grace before that gruel,—did anybod.v ever say grace before gruel, or after? I was iieatheuisli, and summoned Philosophy
to  roy  aid.   Philosophy, whom  I
should have expected to appear iu tho form of a grave old mau, with long flowing white locks, and the Book of Knowledge iu one hand and the magic Wand of Experience iu tiie «tlier,— did not answer the summons. How sliouldsucha cold, sedate old spirit be within call of mortal on that day of native gladness: He was no doubt asleep over his musty old book. I per¬ formed another incantation. Into a little china caldron Iput various charms all of which had been prepared with great care, aud brought with pains and peril from distant parts of the earth,— liquid rod fire from the western Indies, lumjis of sweetness blanched in blood, drops of acid of the citrus limonium, grown over tlie volcanoes of Sicily, and waters made mad with fire. These I mixed together with many conjurations aud when I had druuic of the charmed potion,—contrary to the express injunc¬ tions of my doctor- High Priest of SIoiis,—Isummoned to my aid Memory.
She came at my call,—a comely maiden, clothed in shadows, with a gravo, soft smile ou her cheek, and a great depth of thought in her large, contemplative eyes. As I gazed at lior dreamil.v, I fell into a pleasant, waking trance, and saw the past roll up upon my vision, like clouds from the weat, that the suu glorifies in going dowu.
I was not to be merry in the present that Christmas night; but the long- loving maid, Memory, was to mako me merry iu the past, amid Christmas scenes upon which the dark curtain of time had fallen long ago. Memory was more prodigal of her gifts than present reality could be. The envied Every¬ body else was spending one Christmas. I was spending a dozen.
The first Christmas of mi' experience rose upou my view, and I was a boy again, in Scotland, being awoke at five o'clock in the morning to drink sow- aus. Old stj'lc still jn'cvails in Scot¬ land,—or did tiien,—and Yule was col- ebi'atcd ou the Gth of January. I have no recollection of roast-beef and plum-
is no stint of white tread and butter, but the allowance of tea, which is a rather expensive article at this time of day, is limited, and tho infusion soon pales before ithe brisk and active de¬ mand. I remember something about it not being genteel to take more than two cups of tea, and to drink out of the saucer, but as the tea comes but once ii year on this scene, aU suoli etiquette is thrown to the winds. I eau hear Betty saying it now, "I declare that loon (Anglioe, 'boy,') Geordie has had four¬ teen cups." I don't doubt it. Geordie liad been gulping down cup after cup, and sending up for more with astonish¬ ing despatch. The color had gone out of the liquid long ago; but what was that to Geordie or Jamie, or Jessie or Jenny, so long as it ran out of a teapot, and left .some grouts at the liottom of tlu; cup to toll fortunes by! What rare fun we had reading fortunes in the cups! It aflbi ded sucli a capital oi^jiortunity for lads and la.sses to loolt ovor each otlier's shoulders, aiul ,5et their lips aud cheeks close together. .-Vud when rosy ciieeksand warm lips apinoach witliin a certain i;iiiige of tuieh other, tlie.y are apt, like the magnetaud the biTofsteol, to come siuldenly into collision. Tliey sat loug, with iingciing delight, over tlieirtea-iireakfast (longafter tlie loaves and the butts'r and the Iiadilocks had (iisajipeared), to read the cujis; and great was tlie lauglilor when the close ju,\.fapoKitioii ofa long stalk of tea aud asUort stidkof tea, followed b.v a mot¬ ley crowd of stalks of all sizes, was de- elareil to portend the marriage of Willie tho grieve I'bailitl) with Annie (lielittle housemaid. "
There is uo going to ehuiuii in Pres¬ byterian Scotland on Christinas day. Xo religious exorcises of any kind hold a place iu niyyiuemoiy in connection witii old Yule. It was merely a holi¬ day in the sclioolboy's sense of the word —a day of i)la.v. The one aniusenicnt especially a-ssociatcd witii the o"ccasion was a shooting-match, at which the highest jirizc was a gun or a silver watcii, and tlie lowest a bean kanie. Do .you know what a beau kame is? Let me whisper in your ear. A bono comb—that kind of a comb whicli has. small teeth'. J remember Jamie com¬ ing iionie from the siiooting looking very glum aud downcast.
" Wcel .Taraie," .said Willie, "have you won the gun ?"
"JCa."
" Nor tbe watch ?"
"Na."
"Have ye nae won onythiiig?"
" On. ay, I've just won tho bean kame!" "
"AVeel,"said Willie, who was a bit of a wit in his dry Avay, "I'm just thinking you'll be likely to do mair ex¬ ecution witli the bean kame tliau with the gun."
Holly and misletoo do not enter into the Scotch Christmas rites. When I thill k of the^e things mj' vision changes to a farm-house in Kent, where I spent my first English Christmas. I am real¬ izing what I luid often read of in books. I go out to the wood to assist iu bring¬ ing home the Yule-log. I am assisting au elderlyspiiistertodecorate the rooms with holly and misletoo. I remember hero, ijletisantly, over 1113' gruel, how I fell plump over head aud ears in lovo with her, though she was old enough to be my mother, and made no attempt to conceal her liking for gin-and-water. Sho had a girlish way with her that eapti^-ated mo—a way of giggling aud shaking her curls. I was quick to learn the i)rivileges of au English Christmas, aud kissed her under the misletoe the moment she hung it up. It was she who started np, as twelve o'clock struck on the eve, to let Christmas in. I ran with her to the door, and kissed her again. I was very hapiiy then, fori did not find out until afterwards that MLss Lizzy was giddy even to tho verge of lunacy, aud had loved and been iu love ahundred times. On Twelfth-night she trj-sted me to the orchard at ten o'clock at night, and there, under a cherry tree, while the moon shone bright, she said: "Tom, let us be married, aud fl.y to
pudding; but I have a verj- vivid recol¬ lection of sowans,—a sort of made gruel I foreign lands." from tlie fermented gluten of oat-husks.      I had  dreamt of soniethiu;
Not by any means a iileasant driuk, whatnot!   Age has its advantages" its | "ven when sweetened with sugar or
privileges: one ot the latter I value very miieli.   As amiddle-agodfellow, " done for" loug ago, I am the reciiiiont of many pretty, playful attentions from the girls, without exciting serious envy or jealously.   It is my good fortune to have a.bald head.   Do I astonish you by calling that good fortune ?   Let me explain.   The bald head makes me look older than I am.   It gives me a settled- down, sedate appearance.   The conse¬ quence is, that young and pretty girls have no,scruple  about  fondling  me, even in the preseiice of tiieir proper pa¬ rents and jealous sweethearts.   I am " old Uncle Tom."   The girls delight, to play mo off against their lovers when tlie young fellows are jealous or sulky, —as youug folks in love often are,—and' they como in a bevy of beauty and kneel round my chair, aud pat my bald head, and tease me in a most deliglitful man¬ ner.   Ilikothis, justiis I like to dan¬ dle pretty little sweet-faced babies ou my knee.   That is to say, I take their attentions placidly, and enjoy tliem as au abstract admirer of beauty, and gay- ety, aud innocence, without a quiclc- cned emotion or au extra beat of tho pulse.   Yoii can't do this when you are young, and your hair curls.   At that time ofday you must havo "intentions," you must ask papa and mamma, you must submit to be scowled at by jealous rivals, yoa must be prepared to name the ilaj", tho amount of settlement, and so forth.   But I am old nnd bald.   I have gone through all that fire,  and I have come out a cool  bit of tempered steel, .safe and true.   I Jiave so many calm loves, you see.   Those daiuty bits ofboauti'rustlius about ms don't take aw.iy my appetite for sujjper, nor dash my relish for a glass of jiort.   My eye wanders awiiy with  perfect  content¬ ment from their flashing eyes and rubj' lips to contemplate tho beeswing iloat- ing in the wine-cm>.   Nothing in the way of enjoyment comes amiss to me; but I am wedded to 110 single pleasure. I take infinite deliglitiu the prattle of my pretty Jane, but M-iien, at thesound of the knocker, she ruslies away to meet herdear Edward ou tbe stairs,  I  turn without a pang to woo tlio amber lips of my meerschaum pipe.
Witli all this capacity for enjoyment, it was a sad disappointment to me last year to be seized witii a catarrh on the eve of Christmas day. It is Horace, I believe, who says tliat no man can be supremely happy who is subject to a eold in the head. I agree with him there entirely. I will even go further, and say that, of all tho ills that flesh is heir to, there is uo one greater, or hard¬ er to bear, than a cold. It is an aspiring, ambitious, dcsporato' malady. While gout is content to assail tho foot, and colic modestly takes a middle range, a catarrh audaciously attacks the citadel of the head, ond lays all the senses pros¬ trate at one blow. While the tyrant holds away you cannot see, you cannot taste, you cannot smell, you cannot think, and sometimes you cannot hear. There Is a. certain depth of wretched- ness in the lufibrijig ofthe Tietlm, wh«»
treacle.   But this was the fare peculiar to Yule, and we got up in the middle of the night to drink it.   If thero were, any not able to get up, basins of sowans were carried to them in their beds.   It was in the country, at a farm-house.— The great sowans-drinking took place iu   the   large   kitchen.    Neigliboring swains came from far and near, through the darkness and tlio snow, to join in the festivity.   Behold Betty the cook stirring a great pot on the flre, and a circle of lads and lasses around  her, waiting to be served in wooden Kickers. It might havo been a religious ceremo¬ ny, itwas so sad aud solemn.   There was no drinking of healths, uo singing ordancing, no mirth or jollity, but justa sombre drinking of gluten. Wc did not go to bed again, but sat up waitiug^ibr tho "beggars."   The bcggai's are the Scotch " waits," with a worthier mis¬ sion.   The miscreants, as Mr. Bass or Mr. Btibbagc would call them who wake us up iu the middle of the night iu London, v.'ith " O, rest you merrj' gen¬ tlemen," or tlie doleful squeaking of a clarionet, aro generally loafers and idle skulks, who seize custom and opportu¬ nity to annoy others and benefit thom selves.    In Scotland the beggars are strapping farmers' sons, wiio shoulder the bags for the nonce, aud go rouud to the farm-houses begging meal for the poor, generally for lone lorn widows.— They eoma with a song,  but not until daylight doth appear and the lasses put on their best dps and wreathe their bc-stsmilestogivctbemwelcome.   Now comes the "r.ipe ot tho kisses."   The sturdy, handsome young beggars tlirow down their meal-bsigs, rush in among the lasses, and kiss them  ali  round, amid such a "skelleching"—express¬ ive word that—and giggling as never W.IS heard.   Tlien tlie mistre.?s of tlie house gives the young fellows a dram, and in tbe true spirit of the Sa.xou lef- dey or lady drops, -witli her own iiaiids a portion of meal into each bag.   Tliere are mauy good souls, animated by the feeling ofthe time, who do good deeds and blush to let them be known. Aware of this, tho poor old widows, when they receive the bounty, take care to sift the meal, and oftentimes find in the sieve a residuum of shillings and sixpences.
A marked feature of the Yule festivi¬ ties was a grand tea breakfast to the servants and dependants. At ordinary times the servants' breakfast consisted of oatmeal porridge, milk, andoat-cakes. But on Yule morning they had a break¬ fast of tea; white bread,—that ia to say, bread made of floir,—eggs, and had¬ docks. Ah ! -what a glorious " ploy "— tho ouly English equivalent for this word I can think of is " spree, "and that does not quite express it—wag the Yule breakfast! In my vision I can see Betty the cook at the head of the great deal-table, pouring out tho tea from a hig,: biittered Britahnia-metal pot, into cupa of.^.sizes and patterns ; while do-wii the sidea are seated plough¬ men and plpughboyiijeaoh: with a boxr pijiliaa'by'hlSBldei-all.laiighlng, gig-
of the kind; but this abrupt away of propo.s- iug to settle it cooled my ardor.
"Give me," Isaid, " time (or redec- tion."
"Love," she replied, .ilmost fiercely, " never reflects."
Miss Lizzy hadmouey, and.her friends found it expedient to prove, which they did, that she was non compos. But she made a very sane remark that time un¬ der the clierry-tree, by the light of the moon, when sho said that " love never reflects." After long experience I am prepared to say it-does not.
For the first time iu my life, at that Kentish farm-house' I heard the waits
gUns,jtt.^aaMci th*sun»time.   Tksrii
singing the Christmas carol; for the first time I weut to church on Ghrist- mtts diiy,—a church dccoratod with ever¬ greens,—what a sight to me! For the first time I saw the boar's head and the flaming Christmas pudding brought iu with due ceremony. English people grow up from iufancy accustomed to tiicsc Christmas rites, and arc little im¬ pressed by them. But upon the mind and sympathy of an adult /stranger they strike with thp force and charm of cn- chantniont." The very remembrauee of that Christinas day brings a thrill of pleasure, which I fear no Christmas of the: future will over stir, in my accus¬ tomed breast.
This vision liides, and another rises in its stead. A pleasant foregathering nf ohildiim, and children's ehildren, on Christmas da.y round agranddad's board. It was our a.-,'ed host's birthday, too. He Was ninety-two years of age that Christ¬ mas day. A little, feeble old man he was, almost as helpless as a child, but still cheery and hearty. When the children tlie  grandchildren—the
eldest cliild w.is threescore-camo in from cliurcli, they found tlie old man seated in liis arm-chair directly uuder thebrancli of mistletoe. His youngest daughter (whohad reniained unmarried for her poor old father's sake, that!5he might live with him and attend upon him), Iiad placed him there to be icissed like a pretty baby. Two generations made a rush at him, and, almost smoth¬ ering him first nearly devoured him afterwards. It was an atfecting siglit to see so much love centring in a poor old man, sitting, as it were, on tho very brink of the grave. The old man cried forvery hapi^iness, and his gootl daugh¬ ter had to go and wipe away his tears, for lie w;is feeble to perform even that o(Bce for himself At dinner-time he sat at tlie head of his table, as he had alwaj's done, tliough he could no longer do tho lienors. And afterdinner, when lie had had half a glass of wino,—the dear old baby!—he cheered up wonder¬ fully, and became quite garrulous about the days of his youth, when he was " a sad young dog, sir," and knew all the sparks and bloods about town.
Ono reminiscence of his makes me cherish a particular remembrance of this Christmas day. He had once seen Dr. Johnson. When he was a veiy little boy his father had held him up in a crowd near 'Temple Bar, to look at a fat man In a trowh ooat and a shovel hat.'-And that At man wa»th»"grTOt :«ri«<>inipher.
"Did yon ever see Oliver Goldsmith?"- I asked. "No, he iiever saw him" "But you heard a great deal about him, at that time?"
"No; we did n't hear much aboiit Oliver Goldsmith. Johnson was the great man."
You can imagine that, cau you not ? Tlie talking man much heard of;. the quiet man of thought and modest genius unregarded!
Some great-grandchildren came lnin tbe evening. One, aged five, a prettj- little puss, with blue eyes aud flaxen hair, behaved quite iu a motherly man¬ ner towards her great-granddaddy; kis¬ sed him patronizingly on both cheeks, patted his bald head, and making him comfortable in his chair, talked to him soothingly in baby language. There were four generations round the sup¬ per-table. The old mau was so proud aud so happy that he would insist upon sitting up .so loug after his usual bed¬ time. When his daugliter said it was time for by-by, he snapped his fingcra at her, demanded another glass of punch, and declared he would sing us a song. There was a capital song that Captain Morris used to sing, he said, but—butJie could n'tremember it. He, he was a rare blade, Cajitain Jtorris, a rare blade; could sing a first-rate song. No; he could n't remember that song, but he would try and remember anoth¬ er. .A,n(l presently, after a good deal of cogitation, the uouagenarian struck up, ill a shrill quitvering treble,— "Hero's to thcmuidcu of blushing Ilfteeii,
nerc'.s io the widow of fifty; Here's lo the liaunting extravagant quccu. Here's lo tlio—" At this]!Oint his memory failed Iiim, and,   thinking   for   .'-ome   lime,    he said,—
"Never mind,  we'll  -ling the cho¬ rus,"— "Let tiie glas.s pass,
¦We'll drink to the I.i.«.s, I'll warranlshe'll proNP an  .•\cum' for the glil.ss.''
The next verso escaped hiiii-altogcthcr, and he said he would sing us another capital song, called the Vicar and Mos¬ es. But ho forgot that too, and went back to the chorus of "Here's to the maiden," and finished up by draining his half-glass of weak punch, with some faint imitation of the manner of. the roaring blade he used to be when he was young.
It was not until twelve o'ciocic slruck tliattlieold great-granddad would con¬ sent to retire. And tlien his loving daughter took him by the arm and helped him to his room, wiioro .slio put him to bed and tuckev him up lil^e a child.
Altis! he sleeps in his last bed now; the old hearth is desolate; the children are sc.iltered, never to meet more until they are gathered together iu the Fath-^ er's House of many Mansions.
The next Christmas d.iy that rises on thp magic disc of memory is suggested by the one I have just described; not because it was like it, but because it was very uiiliko it. It is memorable a-i one of the coldest, most uncomfort¬ able Christmas days I ever spout. I had three invitations to dinner that day. Ono to a country house, a long distance from London; the second came from a homely familj' iit the natural wilds of Islington; and the third was conveyed to mo by an arLstocratie per¬ sonage, with a handle to his name, who residod iu the unnatural tamencss ofBelgravia. He was not a duke, nor a lord, but he was somethiug even more awful, grand, and unapproachable for he W.IS a scieutitic baronet, who wroteD.C. M., andLL. D., audIi".R. S., and F. R. G. S., &a. after his name.
The terms in which ho couched his invitation make it clear to me now—, though I did not perceive it at tlie time—that he invited nie rather iu pity than in a spirit of genial hospital¬ ity. The note was written on very thick coarse-grained paper,-(I wonder why thick coarse-grained paper is con¬ sidered aristocratic !)—adorned with a coat-of-arms, and the handwriting was an illegiblo.scientific scrawl. (I wonder why science, which is so accurate and Xirecise in other things, always writes such a bad hand.) Aud the great man, Bart., D. C. L., LL. D., F. E. S., F. E. G. S., &c., said, as well as I could mako out, that I might come and "oat my Christmas dinner" with him. I did n't like that phrase,—"cat my Christmas dinner." To bo sure it was tho purpose of the thing ; but it was, I thought, a cold-blooded way of putting it. I re¬ member now that I had turned author about that period. I dare say he thought a dinner at any time would be a charity to mo. My desire to dine with a baronet, however, blinded mc to. any offence tliat might have lurked in the terms of tho note; and disdaining humble Islington, where I should have
lets-; while the sight of rthe pluni pud¬ ding suggested to ,0 third gentleman, with a bald headland a black stock, a grave remark about .saccharine matter andprussic acid.
After dinner the scientific gentlemen drank a[^^d deal of wine; but it seem¬ ed t<^ -hS^J-'no particular efl'eot upon them, eseept?ifa>;jiiak3 their faces red. They did not.^ijOTlfcai,^..jolly, and merry (jfirSfmnS v?as notatwl alluded to. After tea, which was served iu the drawing room—handed round on a magnificent, but chilly silver salver, by the solemnestof the two footmen,—the Baronet and his guests—with the ex¬ ception of four who sat down to play whist for half-crown points in a corner, dimly lighted by two tall yellow-looking wax-caudles—went to sleep. I was not sleepy. My dinner had not warmed roy blood a bit, nor added a throb to my pulse, and I sat uncomfortably awake iu the midst ofthesleepers, afraid to move, lest I should make a noise and wake them. I would have given any¬ thing to sneak away ; but I was bound to wait and bid my ho.st good night. I found au opi)ortuiiit.y at last.
"Good nighl, sir; f—iiiii—very—T have—"
I could not aay it, aud tho Baronet
did not care whether I said it or not.
Ho gave mc, without rising, the same
three fingers,  still cold,  and said,—.
"Good night to jou.   .Tames, show
Mr. "
He fell asleep .1^.1111 heie. .Tames >-honcdmo llie—dooi, in Iact, and I went forth into the keen frosty night w ith a sense that the free aii, at least,-^ was seasonable. Going Jiome through the chilly streets, seeing the brightly-lighted windows, and hearing tho sound of merry voices within, I felt, e'l'on after my sumptuous dinner, as if I were homeless, friendless, antl hungry, on that Christmas night.
The scene cliangcs once more, bring¬ ing back lo mo a Christmas day big with my fate. I was nervous, excited, and had no aiipetite. Was I ill, or -Vfoa I going to be married.' Neither. Was¬ sail flowed in abundance, but not for me. Pretty girls stood untler the mis¬ tletoe and tempted me not. In the midst of tho rairth and jollity, I was moody, thoughtful, and anxious. Some¬ thing was going to happen on the mor¬ row. It was uot Cliristmas day that I thought about, but the day after. Was I reclvoniug wliat I should get in Chr ist- mas boxes? Not exactly that either; but I was reckoning Willi fear and trembling wliat I might expect from Christmas boxes, pit audgallery. I had written a Christmas piece for a theatre, and to-morrow would bring boxing- night, .ind success or failure. I remem¬ ber, Willie looking oat of the window ..limuming, not Cliristmas carols, but ^ihy own comic songs, that a crow flew by. Was that an omen ? Aud was one crow a good omen ? Tho wish being father to the thought, I comforted my¬ self with the conclusion that it wtis a good omen. Presently a second crow flew by. No, I was wrong. Two crows were a good omon. By aud by a third crow fiew past. Ah! now I remember, it is three oi'ows that constitute a good omon. No more crows came, and I was quite sure of it. Three crows had ap- licired to me, aud the xiiece would be a success. But still I am anxious and doubtful, and my heart is iu a flutter. I am realizing once more iu memory a, sensation which I am afraid I shall never realize again in actualitj'; for I have come to estimate apiilause at its true value; I have "come to know that that which is applauded the most is generally that whicll deserves it the least.
I was bowing to the iniblic in answer to the enthusiastic call which made me tliat liight the happiest man, in Lon¬ don, when the sound of the knocker, dispelled the vision, and announced that ray people had come home from tbair Christmas festivities. Thej- ajiol- ogized for being so late, and oxprcssed great coheeru tliat I had been con¬ demned to loneliness and gruel on Christmas day.
Had I thought tho time long ? " Not at all," Isaid. Have you, reader? If not, plaudilc ci valctc.—London Society
been supremely happy, I accepted the invitation.
I went in a full evcuiug costume, aud arrived at the grand mansion a quarter ofan hour before the time appointed, which was six o'clock. I was rcceivctl in the hall by a stately footman, who conducted mo to the drawing-room. The Baronet was there, seated in his arm- chaii',   absorbed iu a lleviow with a
sombre cover, indicating that it was solemn aud solid and scientific. He did not rise to bid mo welcome; but carelessly extended three cold fingers for me to shake, aud said "How do?" Nothing about a merry Christmas to me, or any seasonable greeting of that sort. Indeed, there wero no signs of Christinas in tlie house. Tlie drawing- room was very elegant, with rich cur¬ tains, soft couches, large mirrors, mar¬ ble busts and statues, and a great deal of gilding; but ray eye searched in vain for the pleasant twinkle ofa hol¬ ly-berry or the glint ofa mistletoe leaf. Tho Baronet's guests dropped in one by oae. They were all males, and as they mostly appeared with rumpled hair, and wore spectacles, I judged that, like their host, they wero scientific, and wrote capital letters after their names. It proved so.
Tiiere were no I.idies of tho family except her ladyship, and she exoused herself from coming down to dinner on the ground of indisposition. So we, tho male guests, tumbled down to the dining-room in a disorderly mob. On the stairs I heard "superphosphate" mentioned, also 'carbonated' .something, likewise an allusion to the "caloric."
It was a magnificent dinner, with everything proper to the season, and mauy other thiugs besides. It struck me however, that the viands proper to the scaaDii—the turkey, the roast-beef, aud the plum-pudding—were introduced al¬ most apologetically, in deference to prejudice and foolish custom. It was a long time before we eame to the turkey, nobody took roasted-beef, and the plum- pudding was a little thing made In a shape, with no sprig of holly in it, and without a glory of blazing brandy. Everything was handed round by two silent foot-men. And the guests were almost as silent as the Ilttendauls. At no time waa there a general conver¬ sation ; but after the champagne had gouearound, I heard a gentleman, with , tumbled hair and speetaelea, aay some¬ thing to a gentleman beeide him, with a rumpled shin ahd spectaoles, about air bunen in •onoMtioit with th« T«al-eut-
YAUKEE mamSlXIVESESS.
Hill! poor Yankee Hill! He was the very incarnation of drollery and esprit. We loved to see bis smiling, good na- turcd phiz before the liglits, for it was sure to impregnate the very atniospliere with a sense of merriment. Ho pos¬ sessed a genius for the impersonation of Down East chtiraoter, which no actor before nor since his time has approach¬ ed. He was natural, captivating, easy and brilliant. With what genial unc¬ tion herelated apleasantry!—with how much sparkling zest he bantered the follies of mankind! The witticism flashed from his lips as flakes of liglits along the orient. A gay, glorious fel¬ low washo, in every scuic of the e.x- jiression.
His store of anecdotes seemed to bo inexhaustible; and he was one of those few gifted creatures -who could talk all day, anil still havesoinethingleftwortii listening to. One never wearied of hearing him.   Age did not tarnisli.
" uor custom .stdle,
Ills iliiinite variety.
His whimsical storiea yet range the longtli and breadth of tho XTuitod States, as unowned oddities. They have been jjassed from oue to another, till the la¬ bel of identity has fallen from tlicm in the vorte-x of narration. Wc- recogn izo them liere and there, as one "will liml polished pebbles on the sea beach.— What a (;rote3que medley his portfolio would present! Spirit of Momus! we iuvoke thee to assist by thy potent in¬ fluence, the finding of this rare legacy! We remember a scrap of adventure that Hill used to relate, illustrative of tho tiait of iuquisitlveness, .10 noticea¬ ble among the primitive home spun Yankees. It apjioars tliat tho comedi¬ an was traveling in a stage coach, and sat next to a gawky, slab sided "Vermon- ter, who opened the conversation with the usual platitudes touching '' weath¬ er—crops—and general matters of in- tris."
" You're traveling, I guess. Mister?" said Vermont.
"Ifbeing in a stage coach behind four fleet roans is any evidence of it, I should think I was," coolly replied Hill. "Ya-as—you're right.   Eh?" A brief pause.
"Travelin' for your health?" " Not exactly," responded Hill. " Oh, then, oubizness, I reckon, eh?" " Yes—no; that ia to say, not precise- l.v."
"E-eh!   I perceive—half blzness and half pleasure "—rolling his large eyes aboutlike bewildered bagatelle balls. " Something in that way." And not caring to bo deluged with interrogatives,  as   he   could see   tho "breed"ofhis friend,   the comedian took from his pocket a copy of "Hum¬ phrey Clinker," and soon his mind was paychologically with that notable per¬ sonage. " TJmph !"granted Vermont: " I beg
yourpardoQ, Ml«ter,but is It fur to "
. Sill affected not to hear hlra.   He repeated tba qusitloii.
"-Don't know," replied he, without taking his eyes from the book.
" Well, should yeou think  it  wuz oonsiderln' what we've come?" " Can't say." Another " slight" silence. " Like this part ofthe country?" '' Yes "-in a gruff tone. "So  do I"—edging .¦atlU  closer  to Hill. A moment's intermission. "Yeou don't live abeout here  pre- haps?" " No."
"Nutherdew I." " Umph!"
" That's a strange ;coiueidencc." ¦ Vermont here adjusted his cravat—a flowered velvet of astrong gamboge tint —the bow of which, terminating into a resemblance of a tip.sj-letter X, had imperceptibly jogged round and got under his ear. Bringing the bow back to its original position under his chin, he remarked :
"E.xcuseme, Mister, do you over ex¬ pect tew come this w.iy agin ?"
" Havo no po.9itive knowledge,"  la¬ conically replied Hill. "I spo.-.eyoii don't like coach ridiii',?" "No."
"Nothalf so nice a-, Heamboat or car.s, is't?" "^
" Quito agree with you." Hero he eased off for a moment or two, and then renewed the attack.— Nudging his victim, ho said : '¦ I'm an American, I am." "Shouldn't have  taken  you  for  a Fienchinan ora Spaniard,"  drily re¬ marked the comedian.
" No? I'jn glad to hear you say so. I've beeu lold afore now that I had a real Russian mouth, and that my nose was on the Greek st,Yie, but I reckon they ain't-if the truth.wuz told."
What iibssible alflnit.v there could ex¬ ist between his mouth jind Russia, un¬ less it W.IS ifci extent, would be hard to conjecture. If Greek noses are of that long sort that htisten down t'j a red point, then his nose was Grecian in the extreme. If not, wo will avoid a rash^classification of tho organ, which at a glance h.ipi5ily reminded one of 3 platina .shell, with which lightning rods are dijiped to guard against metorologi- cal disa.itors.
Hill saw it was no use lo thwart tho fellow, for talk he would, "come what, comemaj'." The words bubbled through his lips as will-o'-tlie-wi.sps swell to the surface ofa marsh. The comedian laid down his book, and tho Yankee's eyes .sparkled in anticipation ofa long, gos¬ sipy, old-fashioned eliat.
"You'rean American, I .sjio.w?"  he iisked, "Yes."
" Du yew know, T (liought you wuz.'; "Indeed!"
" Great country this, eh?" afler a mo¬ ment's hesitation. " Extraordin.iry country." " Good kiiid of land tow be born in." "True."
"Our mountains tower uj) .is ifthey knewW'hatthoy wereabout, eh?" ;
" Unquestionably." '• Ourrivcrs ain'tno piiiUUc.i, iiuther." " Quite right.";
"Andl guessour lakes v/ould make folks look if they^werehiinl pushed.". "To be sure."'
" I'm glad you agree witli nia on them pints, I am"—then rclaiiaing for a mo¬ ment into a'blank siletioe,'lie started upagain-ivith-
"What teown were you born in, if it's not an extravagant qtiestion ?" ""Boston." "
" Crinky, how odd!—I've often been there." "Ah, indeed!"
Pausoof at le.ist fifty-fivo seconds. "Dew yeou know—now don't sa.y it's curiosity—but since we have got tew t-ilkin',Mister, dew j'eou know Ishould like tew know yoour name."
"Would you?" said the comedian laughing.
"It runs ill my held I'vu seen you somewhere." "Very possible."
'• And yeour name is "
"Hill."
"Oh, indeed! I know a good many Hills living in Vermont; our head thresher's name is Hill, I swow! How odd! There's a goodish .sprinklin' of Hills all ovor Vermont."
The comedian fancied for an instant, but only for.an instant, that his name had "given rise" to a pan, but .1 glance at tho lia?d features of his frieud con¬ vinced him that tbe play on the word ¦was grossly unintentional.
"Well, how very strange I should know so very many of your name! I shouldn't wonder if I knew xieople with yeour full name.   "V\'^hat might yeour
Christian "
Hill saw what was coming, and rc- l>lied: "George."'
" Is that a fiict ? Oh, you're certainly joking.   Why, my name's George, too. Wheeler-George Wheeler's my name." "Oh!"     ¦ '
" Yes, Now yeou wero born "
"InBoston' ". .,      ' 1
"Ya as 'zactly .so. -Boston, M.i3.sa- chu.sctts, of course."
" Certainly; Boston, JMas.sachuse(ts— New England—North iVmerica," said Hill, who bored to death by this time with Inquiries, placidly settled down iu the corner of the coach and shut his eyes. Vermont was not to be thrown aside so easily, however; and contract¬ ing his sharp features—every angle of which seemed to ask a question—ho stretched his neck, and said :
" S'kuso me, but what part of Boston were yeou born ?"
Hill's patience evaporated at that moment, and determining to tie up in a packet every possible interrogatory.
A CHSISTMAS STOEY FOE IITTIE POIKS.
THE
replied
" Near the Centre, close by the ' Old South,' about four o'ciocic iri the morn¬ ing, in the dead of winter, in Milk street."
Hill thought he Jiad left tho follow no margin now, and judge his surprise when he leaned over and said:
¦' If it's not troublin' yeou tew much, what side of Mil/: street 10U3 yeou bom on, andwhat wu!;thc number ?"
'rhe pomedian avows that after thtit " last stroke " he got out of the coach, and pursued the balance of the journey on ihe box with the driver.
"Generation after generation," says a fine writer, "have feltas wenowfeel, and their lives were ag active as- our own.—They pjissed like a vapor, whilo nature woro the same aspect of beauty as when her Creator commanded her to be. Tbe world will have the same at¬ tractions for our offspring yet unborn, that she had once for us as children. Yet a little while and all will have hap¬ pened. Tho throbbing heart will be stifled, and we shall be at re.st. Our funeral shall find its way, aud prayers will be said, and wo shall be left alone in silence and In darkness, for the worms. And it may be fora short time wo shall be spoken of, but the thiugs of life will creep in, and pur names -will soon be forgotten. Days will continue to move on, and laughter and song will be heard in the room in which -we died; and the eyes that nipurne.d for ua will be, dried and glisten again will joy, and even our ehildren will cease to think of ns and sot remember to lisp our nkma."
- TSOTTY.
This isa story ofa little girl who was going to have a Christmas tree, and for¬ got all about it.
She was very much like all other lit¬ tle girls, I suppose. She liked to twist up her hair in curl-papers, and wear red lacings in her boots, and red ribbons around her net. She liked to play " House," and read fairy stories, and cut up her mother's bonnet-ribbons to dress snips of china dolls. She liked to " break fdendshljis," and " have se¬ crets"; she "hated " to write composi¬ tions; sho particularly enjoyed havlug her own way; and her name was LIU. One Christmas morning Trotty woke hor up very earlj'.
You would like to know who Trotty was? Well, it is not an ea.sy thing to say exactly. Grandmother says that he is a little pink daisy; hia brother Max pronounces him a humbug; Lill insists that lie is^ monkey; and his mother will have it that he is a dew- drop. Biddy incliues to the belief that he is a ble-JSing; Patrick denominates him the iiUigue of his life; while Cou¬ sin Ginovra, who has beeu toboarding- .school anil wears long curls, has several times informed me that he is such a lit¬ tle darling! Between so many conflict¬ ing opinions, it is somewliat difficult to classify him.
At any rate, whatever he was, Ue had seen the May-flo%ver grow pink, and the tassela of silk hang from tlie rustling corn, and the blood-red maple-leaves fiili, aud the snow-flakes melt on liis pretty, pink hand, three times. He had seen three mysterious Christmas eve.s^ three merry Christmas mornings, and three sleepy Cliristmas nights, and ho didu't remember a thing about thom. This Christmas was the fourth, and he meant to remember tiiis.
His hair was as brown as a chestnut, and liis eyes were as blue as a Septem¬ ber sky after a thunder shower; his mouth looked like a ripe strawberry, and the corners of it always turned up, —except when ho was iiolitely declined access to the sugar-barrel, or grandmo¬ ther expressed a reluctance to have hini cut up her best caps for "hanker- chers for Trotty," or Jlax refused him the harmless lu.xury of adding his notes and comments to the college copy of Homer with a quill pen aud the black¬ est ink in the house,—when thoy turn¬ ed obviously the other waj', and had a hard time of it getting uj) iigaiu. When he laughed, it sounded lilce water fall, ing into a silver basin; and when he cried, it didn'tsound lilce that at all.— When he talked, you would have thought it waa a whole nest of black¬ birds cha(;teriug; .ind when he walked, it was lilce rain-drops on the roof. And when he teased for applo^saucc!
Besides, he had a dimple, and his name was—^I am am'e I do not know.— Not Trotty, probably, in the original; bnt whatever it was, I think that every one must have forgotten by this time. Perhaps itwas Timothy orTryphenius or Tiglath-pileser.
Tho most remarkable thing about Tro(:ty w.is his u-bi-qui-tous-ness. Tiiat is a long word, and you havn't the least idea what it means. If your eight fin¬ gers, and your two thumbs, and your two fists, and j'our tivoelbows are large enough to hold Mr. Webster's Diction ary, I advise you to look it out. But you -would like to have me save you tho trouble.
Well, then, it means that if you shut Trotty into the parlor, and hurried up stairs to have a few moments peace in your own room, Trotty was on the land¬ ing before you. It means that, if you put him into your room, and whisked down atiilrs and looked up, there were his copper toes sticking througli the banisters. It means that, if you spirit¬ ed yourself up garret when he was looking the other way, there was agreat clattering on tlie b.ire floor, .ind there was Trotty. It means that, if you se¬ ceded into the garden, there was a pat¬ ter on the walk, and there was Trotty again. Trotty's feet were a voi'y im¬ portant part of him.
Trotty's feet they wore which woke Lill on that Christni.is morning. She heard them in her dreams tapping on the oil-cloth by tho v.'ash-stand, and opened one eye, and saw the sky till on fire with such a sunrise as does not come every day in the J'oar; Trotty outlined against it, jierched on a chair by the v.inddw, his ten littleiiink toes peep¬ ing out like ten little pink shells from the edge of his white nightgown.
"Why, Trotty Tyrol! J'ou willcateh your death. Bundle into bed as fast as ever you can! But what a nice day ft is going to be,—not a cloud to be seen anywhere!"
" Ye-os, there is a cloud anywheres," chattered Trotty, who was beginning to be cold. "There's a little black cloud just on the top of Mr. Deacon Jones's barn." " Where ? O, that is n't anything." "O, no," echoed Trotty confide!! tially, "that is n't anything. I guess Christ¬ mas h.is come a purpose, don't you, Lill ?"
Who would have thought just how much "a purpose" that Christmas was, or that neither Trotty nor Lill will for¬ get that little blacic cloud as long as they live. ,
The sun swept kindling up and ou, till the flre that lay low on the horizon opposite Trotty's eastern window Inid set the whole world ablaze; the smooth, crusted snow flashed under it, till one could not look for blindness; the icicles from the trees wore tossing on tbe wind like broken rainbows; and Trotty went out and let them fall into his mouth, and into his eurls, and into his neck, and into his little white mittens, .ind tried to rub the sunbeams out of his eyes, and tried to get to tho front gate before the wind did, and could n't un¬ derstand where his feet went to when he fell down, and was surer than ever that Christmas had come "a purpose." All tho while the little black cloud w.is hiding behind Deacon Jones's barn and nobody thought anything about it.
By tvyelve o'ciocic there was no little cloud at all. A great, dull, ugly duski¬ ness had crept over Mr. Joues'3;roof,and seemed to be trying to put tfie world out, just as you put an extinguisher on a candle.
Now you must know that Lill's Christ¬ mas-tree was shut up in the parlor, wait¬ ing for night, and its glories of colored candle-light; that Trotty would keep rattling the latch, opening the door the fraction of a crack to squeeze in the tin end of his nose and one pink cheek,— agonizing on tip-toe to peep in at the keyhole, and hammering to get in, till his fists were black and bluo; that he had been commanded, threatened, en¬ ticed, and deluded out of the vicinity just fifteen times that morning, and was back again hammering, rattling, squeezing, and peeping, within five minutes, each separate and individual time; that, as a conaequeuce, the fami¬ ly mind was relieved when LIU propo¬ sed, after dinner, that they should go oul and coast.
"Only I am almost afraid it will storm," said her mother, looking at tho dusky cloud. .   .
""Why, it wouldn't ever go and storm on Christmas!" said Lill.
•'It -wouldn't, never storm Christ¬ mas," repeated Trotty, who always tliought he must say eTer.ything that Lill did.
So Lill put on her hood witli the blue silk lining and the tassel bshlnd, and grandmotiier kept Trotty still long enough to get liim iuto liis little scarlet gaiters, and his bits of fleece-lined snow- boots, and his flannel coat, and his red tippet, and his tiny mittens with a red border 011 the wrists, aud liis jockey cap with tlie Scotch-plaid velvet trimming, and everybody kissed him all round, as if he had been going ofl' for a year in Europe, to which Trotty, brought up to believe that the dispensations of Provi¬ dence are inscrutiible, resigned himself with fortitude. Wlien his mother called him back after he had started, to kiss his eyes, " because they looked so much like piipa's to-day," Trotty made no re¬ marks, but I am inclined to thinlc that the iron on th^t occasion entered his soul. At least, he informed Lill in con¬ fldeuce, on the way over to Gertie's, that he "didn't see why people couldn't kiss Biddy or grandma just as well; and when lie was as big as Max, would cousinGinerva have to keep calling him her little darling?"
Gertie was Lill's most particular, con¬ fidential, intimate, and eternal friend. Last week it wiis Jane DeWitt; but Jane De Witt had given a stick of bar" ley candy to Lou Hollis, and Lill hadn't bowed at recess fer three whole days. The week before it was Mollj- Gibbs; but Molly liad told somebody, who told somebody else, who told Gertie, who told Lill, that she (Molly) believed that she (Lill) was "real proud" of that quilted blue silk in her hood, and now Molly and Lill were sworn enemies. Next week Cfertie would go overboard. Lill usuallj- went the rounds of the school about twice a term.
There was some sunlight left, in spite of the creeping cloud, aud Trotty trudged along after Lill aud Gertie, tugged his sled over the walla, stuck fast trying to crawl through fences, and invariably fell on his nose when he fell down, but SHceeeded in reaching Long Hill without Iiaving lost anything but his tippet, one mitten, and a handker- ehief, and coasted under the broken rainbows and over the blazing crust the whole long afiorno-'m.
You ought to have seen him! He wouUl always .slide down hill with his month open, and climb up with his eyes shut; and he hiid just about .13 much idea how to steer !is a canary bird. He would insist on dragging both his feet along tlie crust; he wore tliree holes in his snoi\;-boots in that one afternoon. His .sled would spin round like a top, and he would roll off like a bundle, and pick himself np, :ind .spin round' and roll off again. Then, when his feet lie- came cold, he began to cry, and told Lill that there was something in liis boot which hurt liim—tlmt was all the little monkey knew!
But for all that he had a very good time, aud so did Lill and Gertie—.so good that thoy had forgottcnj all about the stealing cloud; it had stolen all over the sky; tlie rainbows wero gone, the blaze of tho flashing crust had died out lilce ashes, and a thick whirl of snow- flakes had been whitening the air for some time before they found it out.
''0\y\" said Trotty, at hist, with n gasp, " look a-liere—there's a snow¬ storm goin' down my froat!"
"So there is, as true as you live," said Lill stopping short.   "Did you ever?" "It's cold as Greenland, too," shiv¬ ered Gertie, " and I do believe it's after supper-time.   Let's run home as fa.st as ever wo oan." " Yes, let's.   I'm tired of coasting. " I'm tired of coasting, loo.   I tri.ihcd T ftOHWget this stone out of my boot," moaned Trotty.
15o oft' they started aciuss the fields. Now they were a long mile's walk from home—a half-mile from the open road; there were fences to climb, and a patch of woods to crass; tho wind was rising ftist, the snow was thickening faster, and it began to be hard v.'orlc.
"Hurry up, Trotty," said Lill, grow¬ ing cross. "Wliat a little slow-poke you are r  Como along!"
Trotty came along as fast as ho could come; but his little legs were so short and his little feet were so small, that he could not keep up. Lill had to wait for him, and Lill was growing cold. "Trot¬ ty Tyrol, what a bother you are! I do wish I could ever go anywhere without you tagging after. There! run noiv, or I'll go home without you."
" O yes," said tired Trotty, starting afresh. " I'll run vely fast. My foots are so heavy! I wished you'd take hold 0' my lianji, Lill!"
But Lill had both hands in her sack pockets to keep them warm, and .she pretended not to hear. Tho wind bit Trotty's bare fingers, and the snow fell on them. It grew dark very fast. "If it wasn't for thiit everhisting lit¬ tle Trotty, wo should bo home," said Lill to Gertie, just loud enough for Trotty to hear. " I do believe we shall be late to the Tree. I've a good mind to go on witliout him."
Trotty's uuder-lip quivered aud grieved. Lill, as she ran along, heard him pattering faster behind hci'. " I'll try uot to bo an everlasting little Trot¬ ty ! Plexso to don't go lionie to Christ¬ mas without mo."
LIU did uot look hack. If she had, she would have seen a purple fist rtili- bing two great tears out of two great eyes. But it was growing darker. The snow whirled into their faces and blinded tliem. The sharp -ivind whis¬ tled and stung. Trotty gulped down the two tears, aiidtrudgcdon manfully; but he fell farther behind, and farther, aud Lill ran on.
" Hurry up, Trott.y, hurry!" she call¬ ed, without turning her head. I really do not think that she knew how far be- hind lie was. " Ican'twaitforyouany longer. You know the waj- home, and you can come right along. You'd better be quick if you want any of the Tree." Trotty slipped upon the icy crust, and dragged his tired feet along, and slipped again, and fell, and clambered uxi, and hurried on, in a perfect little agony of terror. He was in the iiatch, of woods now; the shadows of tho trees were dark; the whistle of the wind was shrill. " Lill, wait for me! Wa-it for rae!" But Lill ran on.
"Lill! Li-ill! Lil-ly! Wait for Trot¬ ty ! Please to wait for Trotty, Lill!"
But Lill did uot hear. The snow was pelting into Trotty's ej'cs; ho could hardly see her now.
"Lill, I've gotsomofin to tell yer,— I've got eomefln io tell yer, Lill."' But Lill was out of sight now. Trotty tried once more, his little pi¬ ping voice choking into sobs: "It'a somefiu real nice, Lill! O Lill, do let Trotty go homo to Christmas!"
Nothing answered him but the long, loud shriek of the wind, sweeping over the hills, and through the trees. Trot¬ ty stopped running, and stood still.
It waa now quite dark. Tho low branches of the pines shut out of sight the ash-like -whltenesa of the fields, where tha last light lingered faintly.
but did not shut out the storm.   Th feathery flakes of snow had turned to sleet that stung -Trotty's cheeks like needles, and thrust itself into his eyea like knives.   He could not seo the path ; he could not see the aky; he had stuffed his blue fingers into hia mouth, and in¬ to hia curls, and down his neck, but ho could not make them warm; the fleece- lined boots had grown as cold as  the snow that was drifting up about them ; • the little flannel coat and scarlet gaiters   ^ could uot shut out the bitter wind. Tiio wide winter night was settling down,-^ Trotty's Christmas niglit.
" Lill, come back!" called poor little Trotty, tramping feebly on. He did not know, he could not see, v/Iicro ho was going. "I'll be a good boy, Lill. I won't be a bover an.v more. I'll run real fast. I won't tug after. O, why don't somebody come after Trotty!"
But nobody came after Trotty, and bu was growing very cold. " Why, Lili.where is Trotty?" "O, just behind us somewhere, ile was so slow, and we—Why! he—is 11't -" The'houso was very dark. Nolimly had thought (<i light the lauiiM. Sup¬ per was on tlie table, unta-itcd. Tbu tire was d.ving in the grate. (.Jraiid- mother sat by it, trying to knit, bul something was the matter with her eyes, and she had to give it up. Up iu tho corner, in tlie dark, some ono was crouched alone, shrinking all into a he.ip on the Hoor. It was Lill. .-ihe iiad not said a word. Slie had liii-il more than once to cry out, "O giaml-- lua! fZo you think they will find him? Will Trotty free'/.otodoatli? Grandma! grandma! I wish I could gii too, ar.d tell him I am .sorry."
But tho words woulil init ciimc. rtise could not remind anybiiilj- that she W::s there. She would rather be ibrgotteii. She said nothing, but she thoughl much.
She thought of Trotty, p!ayiii.g nbinl in the morning in his niglitgov.n, throwing pillow.s at Iier, his hair luii:- blcil all over his face,—slie luid beon cro.ss to liim aonietimes iu those pillow- lights,—of Trotty in the scarlet .gaitci.s anil jockey-cap and tiny mittens, m.ik- Ing snow-balls in t!ie front yard,—of Trotty's e.vos and cheeks and funny iil- tle flat 110.^0, peering in " lo iiglilui grandma" tliriiu.gh the- low piazz:i win¬ dow,—of Trolly at the Kugar-barrel, the molasse.=!-ju.g, the pro.-ierve-clo.^^et,—ol the mischief in his face,—of hisdimpU-. Wliat if she never saw that dimpleany more? Site thought of Trotty trud.gii!g out with her that at'tcriKioii, wiien his " fcets were heavy." It was a long walk for such bits of feet; site siiiiuUl have thought,—<>, sin? sliouUl. iuive thought!
Sho thought of Trotty climliing up the hill inthesunshine, and rolling oil' thesled,—of the bitter wind, and Trol¬ ly tramping home through the storm, —of his faint voice cailin.g after Iicr: "Wtiitfor Trotty, Lill! Wa-it!" But she had not waited.   Poor little voice!
.\nd if it ahould never ask LiU to '.vait again? If Lill .slioulil never have'aiiy chance to tell him tliafc he was not :: bother? If he should go up to Heaven and tell the auKcIs that Lill called him an everlasting little Trotty ?
"Hark!"saidgrandnuitlie;-. "\Vh:il'» that?"
It was the ciink of the front gate. It was the door thrown open. It was liie tread of Jlax upon the floor,—hia voice, —his mother's; but no other. They came in all covered with snow. Ma.x had a bundle iu liis arms, aud that was covered with snow; but it Wiis very still.
Lill did it queer tiling. She turned around, with Iior face to the corner, and put her Iiands before her eyes. .Siie said afterwards that she did not dare to look.
But all at once tho bundle sat iiji straight.
"I want my supper!" said a voicn that was as mueli like Trotty's as iiiiy voice could be.
This is how Lill came to forget he." Christmas-Tree. But then it was just as good for to-morrow night.—Our Young Folf:s for January.
A BEIDAl EACE Tfi ASIA.
The conditions ofa bridal  race ai'c these:   The maiden has a certain start given, whicll she avails herself of in gain a suflicient distance frinii the cniwil to enable her lo mauairo her steedv.illi freedom, so as to assist in the pur.-'Uit m' the suitor wliom site prefers.   On asiu:- iial given by tlio father, ali tlie lior.-scH gallop after the fair one, and whidieviT first  succeeds in encircling hor v.ai.-il wilh his arm, no matter wheilier di.sa- gi'eeablo or not to herclioice, is c-ntillcd to claim her as hi.s  wife.    After Ihe usual dcl.i.y incident upon sucli occa¬ sions, the maiden ipiits the circle of her relations, aud putting her steed into a hand-gallop, darts into an open plain. When satislictl with her po.sition, slic turns round to tlic impatient youliis and stretches out her !irnistoward.-7tl!cni as if to woo their approach.   Tills ist'u' moment for giving the signal to mu:- meiice the cliasc, and each of tlie iir.i a. tient yonhs, diisliing liisiiointed lii'oi:; into his coursers side.s, dart-i iikotli'- unhoodedhawk in  jiui'suit oriii.T i"'.'..!;i- tivo dove.
The savanna was exlensivc, l"uli t\vi>lv.- miles long and three in widtli, and, a tho horsemen sped acro.w the plain, t!:r favored lover became soon tipparcni by the efl'ortsof the maiden In avoid all others who might approach her. .V length, after nearly two hours'r:u-i:i.^:. the number of pursuers is rcdui.'isl t.i four, whoareall togethor.andgrad.ially gaining on the pursueil' Witli them U the favorito ut, alas ! his hor;y siiii- ilenly fails in his speed, and, as sh, anxiously turns her head, she porccivc- with dismay tho haplo.^.'i position oflii:!- lovcr. Eiicli of the more fortunate h'ad - ers, eager with antieip.itcil triumiih, bending his head on hi.-; horse's mam-, shouts at the toil ofhis voice: " I comu, my Peri! I'm your lover." But •'she, making a sudden turn, andl.ishing her horse almost to furj-, d.irts aero.s.s tiieir path and makes for that part of th:> plain where her lover is v.iiuly ciidi-.-iv oring to goad on his weary steed.
The throe others instantly chock theii- career; but iu tho hurry to turn back, two of the horses are dashed furiously against each other, so that both steeils and riders roll over the plain. The maiden laughed, for sho well know sho could elude the single horseman, and flew to the point whero hor lover wa.^. But her ouly pursuer was rarolymouiu- ed, aud not .so easily shaken off. ilak- ing a last and desperate effort, he ilasli- ed alongside the maiden, and strcehing out his arm almost won the unwilling prize; but she, bending her head to her horse's neck, eluded his gnisp and wheeled off. Ere tho discomfited Iioreo- man could again approach her. her lover's arm was around her waist, aud amid the shouts of the spectators they turned toward the fort.
There was an elopement in Fredouia, N. H., the other day; the date is not given, but it waa the day after the young lady concerned had been whipped by her father for "sitting up nights" with har lover.