DEC. 21 
fitearjr Ipstfllrar, 
MEKKY CHRISTMAS! 
Heap on more wood!—the wind la chill; 
But let it whistle as it will, 
We’ll keep our Christmas merry stilL 
—[Scott- 
Then Christ was born of Mary free, 
In Bethlehem, in that fair citie, 
And angels sang with mirth and glee, 
In Ex,octets Gloria! 
—[Carol in Harlctan MSS. 
Bring holly leaves of polished green, 
The Christmas feast is bravely set; 
And over all the earth, I ween. 
The countless Christmas gueats ure met 
All glory to God, 
Who laid by his rod, 
To smile on the world through his Son, 
And peace be on earth. 
For this wonderful birth 
Most wonderful comjuesta has won. 
—[ IVorcMterehlre Carol-. 
Adeste fldeles, 
J.ieti. triumphantes, 
Venite, venite, in Bethlehem; 
Hatum videte 
Begem angelorum ; 
Venite adoremus, 
Venite adoremus Dominum. 
—[Old Hymn. 
Carol, carol, Christians, 
Carol Joyfully; 
Carol for the coming 
Of Christ's nativity, 
And pray a gladsome Christmas 
For all good Christian men, 
Carol, carol. Christians, 
For Christmas come again. 
—[Arthur Cleveland, Ooxe. 
-- 
A CHRISTMAS EPISODE, 
T. 8, 0. 
One bright morning, a tew years ago, great ex¬ 
citement prevailed In the oftice of the Philadel¬ 
phia City Bank. Yet the bank had just declared 
a fat dividend of fifteen per cent, for the half 
year. Shareholders were contented, and god 
Mammon seemed to cast a favorable eye on the 
welfare of the old and thriving corporation. 
However, a mutinous feeling of discontent was 
plainly visible upou the faces of the thirty odd 
employes, who swarmed like bees into the hive 
every week-day morning ror the purpose of man¬ 
ufacturing the golden produce that dollghteth 
the souls of distributing directors and radiant 
proprietors. The shoe pinched somewhere! 
Where was It? 
The following notice, circulated for the perusal 
of each clork, contained the secret of the un¬ 
wonted gloom: 
“ Every gentleman will bo required to remain 
at the banking-house two Sundays In the year, 
to assist In guarding the premises. By order, 
“J, Sfofkohtc, Secretary.” 
Here was a revolution—a coup d'etat indeed! 
Six days we should labor, but the seventh did 
not belong to the City Bank. The gilding of a 
little extra pay might have made the pill easier 
to swallow, buL on this point the notice was dis¬ 
creetly reticent, in the end, after a few days of 
conjecture and excitement, every one quietly re¬ 
signed himself to his fate, as black and wblte 
slaves are bound to do all the world over. 
1 had been ten years In the Bank, and received 
a salary which, though not magnificent, was suf¬ 
ficient to support In comfort a young wife; and 
very nappy wo were In our snug retreat at Wood 
Green. Of course we both thought It extremely 
hard to be separated even for two Sundays In the 
year, atUl we soon saw tbere was nothing tor It 
but submission. 
Now, though I, in common with others, rebel¬ 
led against the forcible seizure of the a unday’s 
rest, yet It must be owned there was some reason 
for the extraordinary Innovation. The strong¬ 
rooms of two neighboring establishments had 
been attempted within a fortulght, and a boy 
carrying bonds in Broad street had been decoyed 
away and the securities stolen. But, worst of all, 
some pilfering bad been going on for months In 
our own bank. Stamps had disappeared to an 
alarming extent. Clerks bad missed money from 
tbelr coats, and now and then the garments 
themselves were spirited away. Traps had been 
carefully laid, and a detective spoken with; but 
as yet the rogue was not discovered, and an un¬ 
easy feeling was rlto among us all. 
The bank boasted of four porters or messen¬ 
gers, one of whom (the chief) lived rent tree In 
premises that nearly' adjoined the building, lie 
was a long lean man named Bennett, with a 
parchment face and a goatee board. Ho was 
quiet, well up to his work, and high in favor with 
the authorities. Of the remaining three one had 
been a grocer’s boy, and the other was a farmer’s 
son, both honest creatures, but of no importance 
In this narrative. The fourth was an ex-police- 
man unmeet Lance, a blunt, pleasant man, much 
given to relating queer stories of bis former life, 
and not averse to a pot of beer for hla trouble. 
Eight weeks had passed since iho oulclal notifi¬ 
cation, and its Christmas approached I was noti¬ 
fied that I should have to keep guard that, day, 
and a most unpleasant prospect It was. During 
the week preceding, the mystery had become 
still more Intensified by the unaocouutable dis¬ 
appearance of a one hundml-dollar note, and 
matters began to assume a very grave aspect. 
On arriving at the bank, the door was opened 
by the night watohman, who remained in the 
building all night, and vanished with the early 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
morning on the arrival of the porters to open the 
doors. A few minutes afterwards Bennett walk¬ 
ed In, accompanied, to my joy, by honest old 
Lance, whose wonderful stories I fondly hoped 
would help to relieve the tedium of a long, dull 
day; then, without more ado, t proceeded to 
make my first round. Preceded by Bennett with 
a lighted taper, l marched up-stairs, through 
every room and offlee, across perilous planks and 
up dangerous ladders, till we gained the trap¬ 
door which opened on to the roof; then down 
again to the lowest abysses of coal-cellar and 
strong-room, looking In vain for some concealed 
burglar, who however was conspicuous by bis 
absence. Very minutely did I examine and try 
the drawer, which had already been tampered 
with, as I knew it contained, besides stamps, a 
largo sum In gold and notes. No—it seemed firm 
and safe, and would take “a deal of work,” as 
Bennett remarked, holding his taper close to the 
lock. Lance, too, had a good long look at It, and 
expressed the same sagacious opinion as his col¬ 
league. 
Our first visit ended—and I was expected to 
patrol at least three times In the day—the two 
porters went down to breakfast, and I adjourned 
to the manager’s room, leaving the door partly 
open, so as to be able to see all round tbe bank. 
I lit a cigar, and, ensconcing myself comfortably 
in a managerial arm-chair, prepared to stay the 
two hours which Intervened between tbe cessa¬ 
tion of the church bells and luncheon-time. Sud¬ 
denly old Lance appeared again at the half-open¬ 
ed door, and spoke in tills wise: 
“ ’Scuse me, sir, but I’ve been a pleaceman, and 
I don’t tbluk that lock’s ail right.” 
“ What look, Lance?” said I. 
“ Tdat there drawer with the stamps, sir.” 
“ Well, let us look again.” 
So saying, wo both went to the counter which 
contained the drawer, and Lance pointed out 
some small scratches on the lock, and a slight in¬ 
dentation in the woodwork surrounding it. 
“ That’s a chisel If Idle for it!” said theex- 
pollceman. 
“ Oh, thunder 1 You don’t mean It ?" 
“Sure of it, sir.” 
“ Well, let’s have Bennett up-stalrs and hear 
what he thinks of It.” 
Angry at being disturbed at his breakfast, the 
head-porter came grumbling to the place where 
I Btood, and, bending down to tbe lock, impa¬ 
tiently Inquired If It was not a deal more likely 
the cashier had scratched it in the course of busi¬ 
ness. After a few minutes' further Inspection, 
he looked up with a knowing smile. 
“ I believe Lance is right now; It looks so fresh, 
I shouldn’t wonder If the watchman knew some¬ 
thing about this.” 
“ Perhaps so,” said I; “ what do you think, 
Lance ?” 
“ Well, he looks honest enough—but looks ain’t 
always a guide,” said the man quietly. 
“ Then I’ll stop In the bank to-night, and see If 
I can trap my gentleman,” exclaimed Bennett, 
“ It you’ll leave me the key.” 
“I can’t do that,” I replied, “ but I shall report 
the fact to the manager the first thing In the 
morning.” 
“Ajs you like, sir,” he assented reluctantly; 
and they both returned to their long-neglected 
meal. 
Again I retreated Into my den, this time with 
the proud consciousness of having something Im¬ 
portant to relate when the next morning should 
see the stream of busy workers once more set¬ 
tling with books and papers and filthy lucre gen¬ 
erally. One—nay, t wo cigars—did 1 consume down 
to the last half Inch, read Byles on Bills nearly 
through, In default of more cheerful literature, 
and I am afraid a tiny doze must have ensued, as 
I was awakened by Bennett's voice close to me 
asking what I would take tor luncheon. Mechan¬ 
ically I fixed upon the hackneyed chop, and with 
it a pint of ale, to be fetched from a neighbor- 
leg eating-house that deigned to open tor a couple 
of hours. While he was gone I took the oppor¬ 
tunity of making my second round, and found 
nothing but peace everywhere, with the slight 
oxceptlon of being Btartled by the sudden 
appearance of the bank cat from the cavernous 
depths or the enormous coal-cellar. Eventually 
I returned to my room, and found a suoculent 
chop smoking upon the table, flanked by a pew¬ 
ter pot or foaming ale, which, on tasting, I 
round unusually soft and creamy—indeed I fan¬ 
cied I could detect a peculiar aroma in the grate- 
rul beverage which seemed to make It more than 
ordinarily palatable; anyhow I thorouguly en¬ 
joyed the repast, and when an Intensely slumber¬ 
ous sensation crept through all my veins, my 
strongest effort of will proved Insufficient to keep 
me awake. While I was still struggling against 
tbe impulse, Lance came In to Inform me that he 
was going out to dino at bis home close by, while 
Bennett, was left on guard below. As he dosed 
the door behind him, my eyes shut, and I tell 
asleep, but only, In a few moments, to be reawak¬ 
ened by his voice again addressing me. 
“I don’t think I’ll go out to dinner, sir,” said 
he, gazing at mo with a strange expression. 
** Why not!” quoth I drowsily. 
“Well, sir, I don’t tael very bright to-day, and 
I’d rather stop Indoors; and If you’d be so kind as 
not to mention to Bennett as I’ve come back. 
But you don’t look very well yourself, sir, just 
now ?" 
“Lance, that ale has made me most con- 
fouudea ly sleepy!” 
“ Well, have a bit or a nap, sir. I’ll see the 
place la all right—only I don’t want Bennett to 
know I’m here." 
“ All right, all right,” I replied, rather shortly, 
for I wanted to bo left to myself; yet I was some¬ 
what surprised at his wish for oonoealmenL in so 
trivial a matter. 
Again 1 saw the man pass out and partly close 
the door, and once more l drifted Into a heavy 
but pleasant slumber. Boon l was % denizen of 
dreamland, .and a sharer In its grotesque and fan¬ 
tastic Imaginings. I thought I was clinging to 
the telegraph-wires that Btretch like webs over 
the town, and performing thereon athletic feats in 
Impossible positions; then I flew through the air 
towards my home at Wood Green, spinning, as I 
went, a thread of wire by which to return—a use¬ 
less precaution, as I was at once transported to 
the desert of Sahara, where I found myself on a 
camel’s back careering across tbe burning plain. 
But In my dreams the face of the camel was the 
face of the ex-policeman Lance, and ever and 
anon strange grating noises seemed to be borne 
past us on the wind. The pace began to slacken 
and, as I spurred on my steed to fresh exertions, 
I seomed to feel the prick of the rowel In my own 
flesh. It became sharper and more painful; and 
gradually camel, desert, chase, faded from my 
vision, and the bank once again dawned on my 
awakening senses. But, though my aerial steed 
and his surroundings had all disappeared, the 
spur unaccountably enough remained, as my 
nether limbs were painfully reminding me. 
It was no dream this time—I was wide awake. 
Quickly glancing round, I discovered Lance 
crouching down beside my chair, and vigorously 
applying a pin to the calf of my leg. To this pro¬ 
ceeding I was about to enter an Indignant pro¬ 
test, when a significant gesture warned me to re¬ 
main mute. His face was white with unwonted 
excitement, as he rose noiselessly to hla feet, and 
beckoning me to the small aperture in the wall 
used for the transmission of books and papers be¬ 
tween manager and clerks,;bade me look upon a 
spectacle tuat made each Individual hair upon 
my head to stand erect. The drawer containing 
the stamps and gold was being tampered with be¬ 
fore my very eyes In broad daylight. Stooping 
down^wlth his back towards us was a man softly 
but swiftly forcing tbe lock with a chisel. But the 
man—the thief—who was he ? I knew at a glance 
that long lean form, ft was Bennett. We both 
shrank back. 
“Take off your boots, sir,” he whispered In a 
low voice. I noticed that his own feet were 
shoeless. “ Creep round outside the counter, and 
wait till I give the word—then over and help 
me.” 
I nodded assent; and then I saw Lance crawl 
out upon hands an d knees Into the offlee, behind 
the shelter of a long high desk, at tbe end of 
which he would be within a tew feet of Bennett; 
I crept away to the other entrance of the mana¬ 
ger’s room, which led Into the large space appro¬ 
priated to the public, and, gliding noiselessly 
along, I arrived where I knew I must be opposite 
the thief at Ills work, click, click, went the chis¬ 
el against the brass lock. It was apparently a 
work of time and difficulty, though the soqpd of 
crushing woodwork betokened the near accom¬ 
plishment of the deed. How long the time seem¬ 
ed ! Had Lance been able to get close to him un¬ 
discovered ? I judged so, as the chisel still con¬ 
tinued its grating work. Sometimes It stopped 
for a moment, and then I knew that the man was 
watchlngitlio door of the manager’s room, to see 
that I was safe under the influence of the narcot- 
le ,u!l, mistered In my pint of ale. Click, click, 
crunch: and the whole lock appeared to come 
away, the drawer being at tbe same time drawn 
softly open. " Now,” thought I, “ here goes.” 
Not yet! I could near the mellow ohink of the 
small bags of gold as they were hurriedly trans¬ 
ferred to the man’s pockets; then the stiff rustle 
of many sheets of stamps told of a like destina¬ 
tion. I listened breathlessly. Suddenly there 
was a yell of mingled fright and rage, and, vault¬ 
ing at one bound across the counter, I saw Ben¬ 
nett falling backwards, bis throat clutched by 
tbe practised hands of the ex-poltceman, who 
held on with a will, having sprung on him silent¬ 
ly from behind. The half-strangled man strug¬ 
gled like a fiend, dealing me several ugly kicks 
with his long legs as I attacked him from the 
front. But the odds were too many, and turther- 
more he had been taken by surprise; In a tew 
moments ha was overpowered, and his hands and 
feet were securely fastened. Not a word had 
been uttered since the commencement of the con¬ 
flict, but now Lance looked up and said In a stern 
voice: 
“Got the scoundrel at last —next thing’s a 
pleaceman. W1U you go, sir, or shall I ?’• Here 
there was a fierce attempt to free himself by tbe 
prostrate thief. “ Perhaps I’d better stop with 
him," continued Lance; “ you’ll get an officer In 
a minute at the station in Seventh Street.” 
Seizing my hat I was off In a twinkling, and re¬ 
turned in double-quick time to the bank, accom¬ 
panied by a stalwart member of the city police. 
A few momenta saw the policeman, myself and 
our chapfallen prisoner marening quietly to the 
station, whore I made the charge and left him to 
the solitude of a cell until the next morniug. On 
my return to the bank tne night-watchman bad 
arrived, and i prepared to go home. 
“Why. Lance, you must have suspected the 
beggar before this ?” i exclaimed. 
“ I've thought of It sometimes, sir,” he laughed. 
" Knew I should cop him some day.” Then, with 
a frown—“ mean, sneaking skunk: I believe he 
meant to try to put It on me or the watchman 
here.” 
“ W ell, all’s well that ends well, Lance, and it 
was a clever catch of yours. We have a nice 
story for Mr. Spoflorth to-morrow. Good night.” 
“Goodnight, sir.” 
W hen I walked Into the bank next morning, I 
found the story was already known. Little knots 
of men were eagerly discussing the event, and 1 
as well as Lance soon became the center of an 
animated crowd. At eleven o'clock I was sum¬ 
moned to the board-room, to tne Committee of 
Directors, who complimented me upon the cap¬ 
ture, as if l, and not Lance, had been the hero of 
the day. In the morniug newspaper s there was 
a graphic account of the “ Great Bank Robbery," 
concocted by some ubiquitous penny-a-llner, 
which my wife read and re-read with mingled 
pleasure and alarm. Bennett waa eventually 
sentenced to eighteen months’ imprisonment, 
which we all considered far too lenient a judg¬ 
ment. The ex-pollcem&n came in for the head- 
843 
messenger’s berth, with a house rent free and a 
present of two hundred and fifty dollars. In ad¬ 
dition to much very unmerited praise, I received 
a bonus or five hundred dollars, which contrib¬ 
uted in no small degree to making the Christmas 
time at Weod Green a “ merry one,” after all. 
--- 
WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, 
CHAPTER XVI. 
(Continued from page 7M0. 
She cried to think, but 8he could not; tbe only 
thing she could remember was that she might be 
Lady Chevenlx and mistress of all she saw. If she 
liked. What would people say ? They had spoken 
of Sir Owen almost as though he were an inhabi¬ 
tant of a brighter sphere. Sbe had heard his 
probable marriage discussed almost as an ar- 
range in one of state; no one uader the rank of 
Lady Kolfe's daughter had ever been thought of 
for him—and now he had asked her. She had 
heard the future of his wife, when ho should have 
one, discussed many times—how she would go to 
Court, and be one of tho high ones of the earth 
because of her husband's great wealth; and now 
this honor had fallen on her. How wonderful It 
seemed! Of course she must not talk about It; 
but before she finally refused him sbe would like 
certain people to know what a brilliant offer had 
been made to her—people who had not always 
treated her as their equal. 
The boat was touching the shore, and a dozen 
hands were stretched out to assist her. It 
seemed to her only a few moments since they 
had started, yet they had been all around the 
lake. She looked up with a bewildered smile at 
her companion as he spoke a few polite words; 
he seemed to know by instinct chon chat thl 3 
girl had chosen the boat as a kind of refuge. 
Then sir Owen came and claimed her—she must 
have some refreshment—and he remained by 
her side until the round red sun set and the fete 
was over. She watched It sink behind Larch 
Hill, and she felt that she would never see Its 
crimson light again in the sky without remem¬ 
bering wbat had been said there. 
There was an hour tor rest before the dressing 
for the ball began. 
“If you are wise,” said Lavlnla Rolfe, 
“you will try to sleep for an hour, and then have 
some tea—that will restore you after the fatigue 
of the day." 
Violet followed her advice; sne lay down to rest; 
but how could she sleep ? Through her heart 
swept unceasingly the same retrain—“ I could 
be Lady Chevenlx. mistress of all around, It I 
choose but I bold my lover’s Ute In my bands.” 
Would it be a great stn r a grievous wrong, to 
break such a promise ? Then she reproached 
herself for even entertaining the thought. Of 
course she would keep her promise to Felix; but 
In the meantime there could be no barm in 
thinking of what had happened and how won¬ 
derful it all was. 
She looked exquisitely lovely when she was 
dressed for the ball. Admiring eyes followed 
her every movement. It was agreed that the 
beautiful girl m wblte and silver, with a crown of 
sliver leaves, was certainty the belie par excel¬ 
lence. To Violet the ball always remained more 
of a dream than a reality. She remembered her 
wonder at her own loveliness, the homage paid 
to her, the half-subdued murmur of wonder 
when sir Owen opened the ball with her, and 
then the significant glances that said plainly, 
“ We can all see what this means.” she longed 
to say, *• There la nothing in It—I am going to 
marry Felix Lonsdale. 1 am only queen of the 
fete, and my reign ends with It.” But she could 
not, so she played her part gracefully; it was 
all to end so soon, and then It would speedily 
be forgotton. She mtgjc Just as well enjoy her¬ 
self while she was there 
She was so brilliant, so gay, so enchanting, 
that Sir Owen grew every moment more hope¬ 
lessly In love with her. People could think 
what they liked about violet, but there was no 
mistake as to him—not the least in the world; 
he was quite lose; he saw and choughc of noth¬ 
ing but violet. Every one agreed that the ball 
was worthy of the fete. To Violet It was a long 
dream of homage—the most eligible men in tbe 
room surrounded her—she was besieged by 
would-be partners. 
Sir Owen took violet down to supper—thegrand 
supper served by Gunter, which was In Itself a 
wonder; and then they daneed until the sun rose 
in the eastern sky. sir Owen went to Mr. Haye. 
“ I will do myself the pleasure of driving you 
home this afternoon," he said, ’If you will not 
spend another night here. I have something to 
say to you before you go.” 
CHAPTER XVII. 
“ If I bad been Mephlstopheles himself I could 
not have managed better,” thought Sir Owen, as 
he watched the three visitors who were of such 
vital consequence to him. “ Seeing I have had 
Just what 1 wanted all my life, in is not likely I 
shall begin to go without it now. After all, what, 
Is a promise of marriage ? What does It mean ? 
People break thorn every day, and every day they 
are broken for them —loss of fortune, loss of 
health, a hundred common-place reasons—loss of 
fancy—all make a promise of marriage null and 
void. Such a man as thts Lonsdale had no right 
to ask a girl like Violet Haye to sacrifice herself 
to him. It la a privilege of a rich m*u to win for 
himself such beauty as hers. So rar from doing 
a bad action. I am doing a good one In rescuing 
this beautiful girl from poverty and obscurity. 
Wbat Is a broken promise 1 SUe has said she will 
marry hitn—she finds that she has made a mis¬ 
take, and alters her mind. It any one sees wrong 
in that, 1 do not know what wrong is. ” 
These reflections were caused by a simple re¬ 
mark made by Captain H11L He had said— 
