030 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
A WEEKLY JOURNAL, 
Devoted to Ftu and Aquatic Spouts, Practical Natural 
History, Fish Cuiture, the Protection Op Game, Preserva¬ 
tion op Forests, and the Inculcation in Men and Women oe 
a Healthy Interest in Out-Door Recreation and Study : 
PUBLISHED BY 
FOREST AND STREAM PUBLISHING COMPANY. 
— AT— 
THE MISERIES OF CHRISTMAS. 
S TART not, gentle reader, at the strange, and, as you 
may think, inappropriate title of this article, and 
let not your digestion, even by anticipation, be in the 
slightest degree disturbed by the glimpse I intend to give 
of the dark side of the picture, which no doubt you have 
always heen accustomed to see painted in the most glow¬ 
ing colors. Do not imagine either that I wish to throw 
a damper over your spirits, or to restrain in the slightest 
degree your indulgence in those innocent festivities and 
rejoicings which from time immemorial have marked 
the advent of this great festival of the world. 
And yet Christmas has its miseries as well as its joys; 
its troubles and cares as well as its mirth and happiness ; 
and it is well that we should so consider it. Nor do we 
intend to descant upon the very poor, for after all in a 
city like this, where there are so many charities, and no 
fear of actual starvation, they are not really so much to 
be pitied at this season as the classes to which I shall 
presently refer. 
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NEW YORK, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1879. 
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A Merry Christmas. — The winter season of joy and 
good-will is again at hand ; and in something of the same 
Bpirit. tliat brings the little feet pattering into your room 
this Christmas morning, and the blessed little forms clad 
in white to’cry with cheery, childish voice : "Wish you 
Merry Christmas,” the Forest and Stream joins in the 
universal sentiments of kindliness, and extends its salu¬ 
tations to each and every one of its-readers—to him who 
shall find bis paper on the newstands this morning, and 
to him to whom in far-away Oregon our Merry Christ¬ 
mas shall come as an echo of the holidays. 
Death of Genio C. Scott.— Our good old f -lend has 
passed away at the ripe age of seventy-three years, and 
hung up his rods forever ! Let him rest in peace. With 
this ancient angler more than with any other, the writer 
has cast his lines; the reminiscences of full thirty years 
hang over his departure in a pleasant halo. Although 
Jong ill, he had been able to attend to his business almost 
to the day of demise. He was the publisher of fashion 
plates, having commenced in this city forty-five years 
ago. Angling literature was a passion with him, and he 
was a constant contributor of articles to the sporting 
papers, especially to the Spirit of the Times. In I860 he 
published an illustrated volume entitled “Fishing in 
American WaterB." In later life he was largely inter¬ 
ested in mining operations in South America. He was a 
native of Livon-a, New York. There are scores of ang¬ 
lers of the old school now living who will mourn his loss, 
although his genial presence has long been wanting in 
their social circles on account of his indisposition. 
Fine Oranges from South Carolina.— Our whilom 
correspondent, " Rusticus,’ Mr. Chas. G. Kendall, of Pal¬ 
metto Island, near Port Royal. S. C„ has this year re¬ 
ceived the premium for finest oranges exhibited at the 
Charleston Fair. Specimens, carefully picked especially 
for the holidays, with the glossy green leaves attached, 
may be seen at Lichtenstein’s, 83 Barclay street. Mr. 
Kendall is a brother of Job, H. Kendall, of Ogden & Ken¬ 
dall (New England Glass Company), this city. He is 
taking great pains with his groves, and we wish him 
every success in his Southern enterprise. His pen pro¬ 
ducts are of as fine quality as Ms fruit. Orange cul¬ 
ture at the South is growing to an immense business. 
A friend of ours in Florida recently saw a single train 
of seventeen car-loads. 
—There are few men who drink at all, but who spend 
at least one-third they earn in liquors. 
The bluest beggar in the streets is sure to have some 
land patron or patroness who 11011 furnish him with his 
Christmas dinner without any anxiety on his part as to 
the means of procuring it. Nevertheless, on tMs, the 
threshold of the Natal day of Him who hath said, “ The 
poor ye have always with ye,” we must not forget to 
minister to their needs according to our means. 
Nor do I refer to the inmates of the poorhouses and 
prisons, for they are sure of a good dinner, and enjoy it 
the more because of its rarity. Nor shall I describe the 
miseries of those who minister to our comforts and con¬ 
venience at this blessed Christmas time—the railway em¬ 
ployees of various kinds, the engine drivers and con¬ 
ductors, the pointsmen, signalmen, and porters—who 
must stick to their posts, Christmas or no Christmas. 
Nor shall I even olaim sympathy for ourselves—“ We 
slaves of the lamp"—who have catered for your intellect¬ 
ual appetites the live-long year-, and now have to oudge 
an exhausted brains for some new idea wherewith to 
amuse or edify you. 
It is not my intention to treat of any of these things, 
but to bring before your mind’s eye, one or two classes 
of people to whom the advent of this joyous season is 
more or less a misery. And first I take the clerk or 
book-keeper, at a stated salary (and that a small one), 
and a large family of course. (Can any one tell why poor 
clerks and clergymen always have large families ?) He 
has only a certain amount of cash which he can leisurely 
devote to the purchase of Christmas presents, and an un¬ 
certain amount of these to provide ; there is no doubt 
about the number of expectants, however. There is 
Harry, to whom he has promised a pair of Forbes’ acme 
skates, for taking so many marks at the high school, and 
there is Maty, who wants a work-box, and Tommy, a 
cricket-bat, and so on. And then there is little Susie, the 
youngest and the pet of the family. He well remembered 
bow last Christmastide he had promised her a doll, with 
large blue eyes that opened and shut; and how his cash 
had run out, and he had to put her off wiih something 
else ; and how his heart bled when he saw the look of 
disappointment on the sweet young face, and the pitiful 
quivering of the little lip, and the silent tear of infantile 
sorrow, trickling down the chubby cheek, and he men¬ 
tally resolved, come what may, she should not again be 
disappointed. He had made up his mind to make his 
old overcoat do for the third winter ; and yet with all 
his pinching and squeezing he cannot see how he can 
manage to satisfy them ail. And so, night after night, 
as Christmas comes nearer, he tosses liis uneasy head on 
his pillow, and when at last, at times he falls into a fitful 
sleep, he dreams he has solved a new arithmetical prob¬ 
lem by which thirty dollars can be made to go as far as 
fifty, and he wakes with a start to find nothing “ but the 
baseless fabric of a vision ! ” Think you, gentle reader, 
that Christmas has no misery for him? 
And there is another class, whom we would little sus¬ 
pect of misery, but who yet are more deserving of pity 
than any other I know of, and to it belongs the man who 
has been living beyond his means—a merchant, perhaps, 
who has been struggling for years to maintain his credit 
and keep his head above water ; who has (or thinks he 
has) to maintain a certain establishment in order to keep 
up appearances ; who has an extravagant wife, to help 
him on the way to ruin : who is worried and harrassed by 
day and by night—carking care is the grim chamberlain 
that sits upon his pillow and greets him with the morn¬ 
ing light. This man is expected to make splendid pres¬ 
ents ; liis silly wife- never ceases to ask him for money, 
and to remind Mm that she expects a gold bracelet or a 
handsome dress for her Christmas present. "While she in 
her folly is thus adding to Ms troubles, sleep is driven 
from his eyelids by the thought of the notes which will fall 
due between Christmas and New Year, and of the conse¬ 
quences which will ensue if he fails to meet them. Does 
Christmas bring this man misery or joy, say you gentle 
reader ? 
And then there are what may be called the minor 
miseries of Christmas. There is the man with a heart 
larger than Ms purae, the enjoyment of whose Christmas 
is somewhat lessened by the thought that he has not been 
able to send a turkey or a goose to all the poor families he 
knows of. This class is rather rare, we must confess, 
just now, but still there are some of them in every place. 
I am too modest to claim to belong to it myself, but I 
have often thought, if I was rich enough, the height of 
enjoyment on a Christmas eve would be to fillmy pockets 
with quarters and ten-cent pieces, and prowl outside 
pastry cooks’ and candy shops, where half-starved ragged 
children, with their noses flattened against the glass, are 
feasting their greedy eyes (but not their stomachs) on the 
good things within, and envying their more favored 
brothers and sisters Whose “lines have fallen in more 
pleasant places,” and to slip a quarter into their half- 
frozen hands, and then, like the Arabs (not street Arabs, 
which they are) to “ steal silently away.” 
Then there are the domestic miseries, such as those of 
the good housewife, whose mind is worried lest the turkey 
should not be done to a turn, or the pudding should not 
be boiled enough (for Henry is so particular), and she has 
her misgivings as to the capacity of Bridget; the new 
cook, who has the last day or two given symptoms of 
mental aberration, after mysterious visits to her own 
room, from whence, as she returned, there proceeded at 
the same time a strange smell of some foreign liquid, not 
unlike the favorite beverage of the immortal “ Sairey 
Gamp.” 
I shall draw a charitable vail over those juvenile 
miseries which, as a natural sequence, follow an over in¬ 
dulgence in the good things of Christmas, lest visions of 
future doses of rhubarb and magnesia shall spoil the pre¬ 
sent enjoyment of the little ones, which God forbid 1 
And now I have reserved for the last what I consider 
the crowning misery of them all. I write feelingly, for 
I know how it is myself, and that is the misery of shop¬ 
ping for presents, when you don’t know what to get. I 
need not explain that I mean the troubles of the male 
persuasion, for ladies, of course, are in their glory at this 
and every other season when there is any shopping to be 
done. I mean the poor unfortunate being who has no 
wife or other feminine with whom to take council, and 
who has to provide a present, say, for his intended. Who 
has not met some wretched specimen of this latter class 
—generally on Christmas Eve (for he puts off the evil 
hour as long as possible)—frantically rushing from shop 
to shop, taking into Ms confidence the shop girls, who, 
of course, will place before him the most expensive and 
useless articles, perspiring with anxiety, and muttering 
toMmself in an agonised whisper, “ Oh, if 1 only knew 
what she ivould like ?" and finally, in the very reckless¬ 
ness of despair, buying the first thing that he can lay Ms 
hands upon, probably the most unsuitable he can get, 
whilst under his nose lies the very article which his Sarah 
Jane would give her eyeB to possess. His misery would 
be still further increased were he an eye-witness of the 
way in wMch his gift is received, and could he see the 
contemptuous manner in which Ms beloved throws it 
down with the remark, “ The stupid fool; he might have 
known I didn't want that!” 
And now, having treated you, dear reader, to a dishful 
of misery, and having no wish to leave you in the “ dis¬ 
mals," I will conclude with a plea for the only class- 
who really, truly, uureservedly and entirely enjoy these 
happy Christmas times, and that is the little children.. 
God bless them ! What would this weary world be with¬ 
out them ? Who would destroy their abiding faith in 
the unlimited resources of Santa Claus to furnish them 
with every beautiful thing their imagination can con¬ 
ceive ? Who would, dispel the illusion, sanctified by the 
tradition of ages, that this venerable and respected indi¬ 
vidual does really and truly, in corporeal presence, de¬ 
scend the cMmney, and fill the expectant stockings with 
all manner of good things—bestowing Ms blessing upon 
the sleeping innocents the while ? 
Who does not love his childhood over again at this 
season in witnessing the joys of his children—remindin g 
him of the long ago, 
“ When life seemed formed of sunny years. 
And everything Hope whispered then 
My fancy deemed ’twas only true. 
Then, whatever may be the consequence, let the little 
ones have their fill of fun and frolic, as well as of more 
substantial things. Let no restraint keep back the free¬ 
dom of their mirth—let their joy be uncontrolled ; for 
sorrow and trouble will come fast enough. Above all, 
let them understand that they are joyous and happy at 
this season because they celebrate the birthday of Him 
who was the children’s friend, and who hath said, 
“ Suffer little children to come unto Me, and forbid them 
not, for such is the Kingdom of Heaven.” 
—It is becoming the fashion, at distinguished weddings 
in Paris, for page boys to be substituted for bridesmaids. 
They are all dressed alike, mostly in red or blue velvet or 
satin, with silk stockings and gold buckles, and, for their 
business, have to attend on the bride, carry her prayer 
book and bouquet, support her train and veil, and gener¬ 
ally be at her bidding all the day. Young brothers, or 
relatives under twelve years of age are usually selected 
for the office. _ _ 
—Is the mock turtle a fraud ? 
