OEC 22 
THE BUBAL MEW-YOBKEH 
845 
stalwart frame of manhood animated and 
warmed by the pulse of love. 
The picture teaches two plaiu lessons of life 
—the lessons of struggle and of joy through 
struggle. Out of mystery, banishment and 
pain came the Babe of Bethlehem, but he 
came a messenger of good news, of peace on 
earth, good will toward men. The angels 
sang for joy. And ever since, at the anni¬ 
versary of his birth, the hearts of the parents 
have been turned to their children, and the 
hearts of the children to their parents with 
peculiar joy, in which the struggle is forgot¬ 
ten. 
Nature even in Winter is beneficent; she 
keeps something green and fragrant under 
her snows and ice to please and reward'her 
children. But she will not thrust |ker sweets 
eyes big with expectation, and bigger, perhaps 
with realization, and the pervading thought¬ 
fulness of love which sanctifies and blesses the 
scene. Our readers know what it is to strug¬ 
gle ; may they also know the joy of a Merry 
Christmas. 
CHRISTMAS “FURTHER ON.” 
ANNIE L. JACK. 
Christmas Eve in the country. The chores 
are all done, the cows snugly shut up for the 
night, the horses munching hay in their stalls, 
the pigs in their sty giving a contented grunt, 
with a loving inclination toward the corn in 
the trough and the remnant of poultry left 
over with a view to next year's eggs, are 
A good picture tells 
its own story. Christ¬ 
mas appeals to tho heart 
aud Christmas pictures 
find in the heart their 
chief interpretation and 
appreciation. Our 
Christmas story is 
printed in our picture. 
Fig. 70D, and it is ever 
a dear and familiar 
story since the Christ 
child gave back from 
his manger-bed to his 
parents, smiles, and to 
the curious magi, looks 
of wonder. 
The picture fitly typi¬ 
fies human life. Over 
the Hill of Difficulty 
we find the Bower of 
Happiness aud Plenty. 
Under the snows aud 
iee of Winter are the 
warn germs aud buds 
read}' to hurst on our 
enraptured senses with 
even tropical color and 
fragrance, some sunny 
morning. And under 
the wrinkled, grizzled 
front of age, are affec¬ 
tion. tenderness, yearn¬ 
ing toward the little 
ones which, left to their own momentum, would 
make the world a Paradise of love. 
Who ever saw or thought of Santa Claus 
as a youth or a cherub ( The very sugges¬ 
tion is a surprise and offence to our iu- 
stincts and traditions. So in the picture 
it is an old man with bowing shoulders, 
shrunken cheeks and sinewy hands who de¬ 
scends the mountain and braves the storm and 
rigors of snow and ice to bring to the hearts 
at home a joy ns fresh, fragrant and perennial 
as the evergreen tree on his shoulder. His 
thought and his work are for the little ones 
aud the home circle. For these, like Santa, 
though without his reindeer and sleigh, he has 
‘lured the mountain passage aud the trackless 
forest. For such work there is needed the 
THE CHRISTMAS TREE. Fig, 709.— (Rk-engraved From a' Gf.km ajsJPapbb.) 
ou us at our doors unsought. Storm and 
steeps, wind and ice must be overcome. The 
rock-rooted, tougb-tlbered evergreen of the 
ci iff yields only to the will and hand of the 
strong man armed. 
But the strong mau conquers aud has joy iu 
the struggle. Aud as he smokes bis pipe aud 
jogs ulong on his homeward way, his heart 
bounds aud his eye twinkles with joy as his 
imagination pictures these branches of spicy, 
green foliage, bending w ith now blossomsaud 
fruits of joy iu the family. Fitted with its 
broad base it will stand iu the best room, 
glittering with decorations aud heavy with 
gifts from one to another. There will be the 
mystery aud secrecy of preparation, the glad 
surprises, the innocent jokes aud laughter, the 
dreaming perchance of “last year's uests ” 
Silence broods over all, for the boys of the 
farm have shoveled a path from the gate, 
pumped all the water requisite for culinary 
purposes, aud are now toasting their toes 
beside the kitchen fire. “ Tom,” “ Silas" aud 
“Joe” represented the rising generation iu 
Farmer Willough's home; aud strong, hardy, 
dauntless, without a care or fear they rested 
aud grew vigorous ou their plaiu but whole¬ 
some diet. Aud now Christmas was coming. 
Mrs. VVillough was ’busy prepariug for the 
next day's dinner, and a smell of singed 
feathers aud boiling plum pudding mingled 
with the pungent odor of the thyme dressing 
that w as iu process of preparation. She was 
a tall, fair woman, past the prime of life, and 
had only known one sorrow, and that was 
when little Susie died. How well she remem¬ 
bered that Christmas time. She had been so 
rich with her one daughter, though poor in 
this world’s goods, and for weeks before had 
been busy toying to devise Santa Claus gifts 
for the children. 
How Abram, her husband, had seconded 
her efforts, and made a sled, and discovered a 
hammer that could be furnished with a new 
handle and painted red, and whittled out some 
funny toys for the youngest boy, while she 
made a new dress, and braided it at night 
when they were all in bed, and then on Christ¬ 
mas Eve the little daughter was stricken with 
sudden illness, and the dress that w-as to have 
been her gift, was worn for the first and last 
time when she was put into the grave. 
But Christmas cam 
and went, the years 
rolled on, no other 
daughter came to cheer 
her or brighten her life, 
and when her only sis¬ 
ter died, and left an in¬ 
fant but a few weeks 
old, she took it to her 
heart, and, with the 
father’s consent, names 
the little girl Ruth, for 
she was to cleave to her 
in her old age. 
And this was the quiet 
little figure that busied 
herself with the Christ¬ 
mas preparations; a 
bright light in the soft, 
brown eyes, and a look 
of happiness in tho 
speaking face. For it is 
Ruth’s birth day.the holy 
Christmas tide, and she 
is to be 17 to-morrow. 
The oven door is opened; 
there is a puff and 
steamy smell, savory to 
hungry hoys, as the 
supper is brought out, 
aud all sit around the 
t a b l|e, with grateful 
hearts, to partake of the 
well-cooked meal. And 
then the reason of 
Ruth’s high color can be 
traced as there is a 
stamping ofifeet,a sound 
of bells, and Hugh Mc- 
Lea steps into the kitch¬ 
en. shaking the snow 
from his feet. It was 
well-known that he had 
come to tak e R uth to a 
dancing party at a 
neighbor’s half a mile 
along the cross-roads, 
and the boys stood 
quietly beside him. giv- 
iug some quiet chaffing, 
as the good wife helped 
the young girl to wrap 
up well from the bitter 
cold. No one seemed to 
notice that Silas was 
dull aud morose, that 
his infrequent remarks 
had a bitter tone, and 
his brows were black 
aud scowling. They 
were twins, Tom aud 
Siias, aud a year older 
than Ruth, while Jo was 
only in his fourteenth 
year, full of fun aud 
frolic. The little muffled 
figure came out of the 
bed-room, the bells jin¬ 
gled faintly but merri 
ly, and once more the 
boys returned to the 
fire. But Silas was rest¬ 
less, and resisted all at¬ 
tempts at being amused, 
refusing to play chess, 
to give them a tune on 
the organ in the sitting- 
room, that all the boys 
knew how to sing, and 
finally arose with a yawn, saying, "It's so 
dull here, I thiuk I’ll go down to the dance. 
Jim Saunders asked me, and I think I may as 
well have a little of the fun.” No objection 
was offered, and he heavily ascended the stair¬ 
case to the bed-room overhead. 
"Aint we swell.” said little Joe as he soon 
stepped down in best go-to-meeting trim. But 
Silas only scowled back aud opened the door, 
going out iuto the darkness without a word. 
The two remaining boys smiled at each other, 
for Tom was smaller aud seemed a more fit¬ 
ting compauiou for the younger brother, 
who nudged him slyly and whispered— 
“He’s going to look after Ruth.” A game 
of chess followed. The Christmas prepara¬ 
tions were all attended to, and at ten o’clock 
CHRISTMAS BELLS. 
Still the bells, with silver 
tone. 
Merrily are pealing. 
O’er sad hearts that grieve 
alone 
Lo! this thought comes 
stealing— 
•' Jesu, born that one and 
all 
Thou mlght’st ransom 
from the fall." 
This glad thought brings 
healing. 
Ring, ye bells, your merry 
chimes! 
Tell the wondrous story ; 
Story told In ancient times: 
Priests and prophets 
hoary, 
Long before Ills birth, pro¬ 
claimed 
He should come. Messiah 
named. 
Messenger of glory. 
Down the ages, clothed In 
light. 
Still the tale is ringing. 
Still the children, fr sh and 
bright, 
Carols sweet are singing. 
Yes, with spirits glad and 
«ay. 
Hall we now this blessed 
day, 
Heavenly message bring¬ 
ing. 
MARA.H. 
THE CHRISTMAS 
TREE. 
Harkthe merry, merry bells, 
Christmas chimes are ringing, 
Each the same glad story tells 
Angel hosts were singing, 
When, on far Judea’s plain. 
Shepherds heard their sweet refrain 
From the welkin ringing. 
“ Peace on earth, good will to meu,” 
Tidings glad they’re telling. 
“ Blessed Christmas come agaiu," 
On the air Is swelling. 
Now’ let notes of praise ascend, 
Voices all together blend, 
Joy mi every dwelling, 
Christ Is born, the Prince 
of Peace,” 
Bolls are now repeating. 
Let all strife and discord 
cease. 
Give all kindly greeting. 
Let this day of Jesus’ birth 
Bind together hearts on 
earth. 
Time Is all too fleeting. 
