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Show The New Year ll J i .By Will D.Muwa j ; in Atlanta Conatitutfon ' I COME to you on th wng ol dwo That fringed with gold and gray, I com when tlx curtaina of niehi are draw ' F01 lli muck of a new-bor- n oat I com all freth from the hand of Coo To you, to the ma and th crumbling clod. n. Each day H a jewel brought for yon To tiring on Ute'i alia thread, Hope that are bora ia your heart anew. Where old regret lie dead-E- ach day a gin from (be God who aea Your ianeriwMl Hub will you pain at pleaie? III. Each day it handed, a gilt, to you, To uae at your heart may will; You can bra them f alia or bra them tru Till death your puuea itill But be not deceived, for the nuclei clod Will tell lb tal m the lace of Cod. . IV..- - I com with the menage of winter chill. And the bleuingi of rain and Hint The glory of (orett, and field and bill, And the vallert where riven mn I bring iweet life to the rote and clod, And you from the vaultt of watchful Cod. ' Wl P$ Pt W2.'p H TheMost Mcoiaas rjpwcw ""jL till fli Pn::: ffi k f'Va S '! jJ! JlwMUUuuy IIU' IliK I .11 r ii J :fj( f""""'-- " i , jf Sr 'V , I . 5 -'-"i' . . y X "Vw, I I "! yd i . ill 'f'si. ?r t 7 v-i- Sa 4 il'r-r?l.is-S I i- -- 4-- rVArlti'i y A? : 'sMUVl r-- yix be tellln' yo a? a rid M hot Christmas an' a sad I day fcr me, Ocuone. Til was In Cusey'a Oven, -y- jl on we'd named It an black fyjl fever was puttln" wur'rds JM. on Tim's tongue that he l'' P knew nawthlng about Diamonds 1" he cries, "ah, Mother, yards an' yards av thlm. What could be grander for a yule tree to glitter with? Mother, darlln', ye'U rest, now. No toll. No tears. Fer we've diamonds to burn. An' Christmas, Mother, Christ-mas! Mother are ye near ine?" "YIs, Tim," I whispered to Black Fella Joe, fer the fever had me, too, though I wasn't feelln' It as much as him. "TIs, Tim," Bays Black Fella Joe who was a holdin' him In his arms. "Christmas," Tim says over an' over. Tlm'a cheeks glowed rid against white like a fair child's an I looked away with pain In me throat. Outside the haythen parrots quarreled In the rank trees an' the big sun baked the muddy village till the straw roofs steamed." Tim's eyes was full av wonder like a lad's, with him a lookln tip Into Black Fella Joe'a face, not seeln It at all. "Mother!" he says, "Ye're rosier than ever. Sure, the years must ba runnln' backwards with ye, Mother 1" An' thin', "Mother, sing to us!" Black Fella Joe looked worried. Even the blst native couldn't be an-- The Thres In a Canoe Sliding Down the Black Congo. swerln' questions like thnt So I man-aged to crawl to him an' take his place, holffin' Tim's head In me lap. "Sing about the Babe In the Man-ger," Tim begged. "Hush, boy I" says I. "Thin, tell us a story, Mother." So, In a little voice I told him an old, old story about the Dublin beg-gar an he good king. "It was cold," I was a sayln', "An the beggar sang outside the king's window on. Christmas " "Cold," whispers Tim, "I'm cold, too, Mother." "An' the king, himself, walked Into the snow an' brought the poor fella In-to the warm Yule light," I wint on. "Yls, Mother, the light It's all right, now, an Mother darlln', how beautiful you are!" But while I was talkln to him, won-derl- n' If It was th' last story he'd be hearln', the room began to misbehave stranee. an' nobody but Black Fella Joe knows what else happened. The next I knew, the three av us was In a canoe slldin' down, the black Congo an' I remember wonderin' what had come over Black Fella Joe, fer he had always rayfused to pilot us down before, afraid av the tribe on the banks. An' after that I forget again until I found Tim an me In white beds with nurses watchln over ns, an' Tim lookln' like the better man av all. "Where's Black Fella Joe?" we asks. "He wint home," says the doctor, "two weeks ago. As near as I could make out. he said to tell you 'Merry Christmas.'" . "Tim," I says, "Pm thlnkin our dia-mond huntln days Is over. The ocean's Jlst out aV your window there, an' whlnever I Bee th' ocean I hear Ire-land a callln'." "What a Christmas we've had," sighed Tim; "rve been dreamln' av Christmas at home till I've aa ache In me heart Back to Ireland? Tm wonderin'" "I'll slttle that fer ye," says a merry, little voice, an a tiny, white-haire- d lady stlpped up behind Tim an' pnt her hand over his eyes. "One guess," she says, An Tim guessed right (ffl. X91S, Weatern Newtpaper Union.) v":'':::"c::""iS'i i A " REAL NEW i ..YEAR.. If ' ill ll; ',& Blanche Tanner Dillin Xc::o::cccosX0xc::m fflr3USIO and dancing within the brightly lighted cabaret, jLT vblle across the street In r y ' the shelter ot a doorway a shubblly dressed young man, his coat pulled closely around Mm and his right hand on a cold object In his pocket, watched the slowly moving line of cars stop, leave their passen-ger- s and move on. Fivt years ago tonight, Harlan Moore bad celebrated New Tear'a v In this same city with some school friends, A o'er quarrel wltb his father bad fol-lowed bis arrival home, across the river, out In the country, early the next morning. Lat-er that day angry, hurt and somewhat ashamed be bad left home unno tlced, fully deter mined never to re-turn. The years since had been hard, and now almost penni less, without work and discouraged, a desperate plan, a way out of worry My and want for a while. Dad suggested Itself. It was dangerous but then no one cared what happened to him and the value of those Jewels would keep him for a long tlma He stepped out and felt the now oftly falling snow, which filled the unusually warm air, on his face. But an officer approaching drove blm back again. Just before the usual din proclaimed the New Tear's birth, the orchestra In the cabaret swung Into the strains of "Goln Home." Scenes long forgoltea flooded Harlan Moore's memory. Again he saw the old borne, and again the pained look In his father's eyes-pa- ined to think that his son could come borne In such condition. As ' . memories crowded fast on each other he wiped a mist from his eyes. He Jerked himself op quickly he couldn't be a baby besides be hadn't done anything wicked hadn't something whispered, but be bad planned to. As the dread of facing the years ahead gripped him, the temptation came to see his plan through and take the consequences. Added to the other memories the ', longing expressed In his mother's last letter served to sharpen his wish for ... y,. home, and before he realized It he was rushing down the street In one pocket was enough money for the ferry trip and across the river he could walk home. The object In his other pocket he would throw Into the river and have that off his mind. "This is a real New Year," he hap-pily exclaimed. Just then be bumped Into some one "Where do yoo think you are going I" the ptrson growled, and be looked Into the eyes of a police officer, but there was no fear In his ; voice or eyes, Just peace and Joy as he answered, "Why goln' home I" with sheer delight at the advice "Well go then." Ji& Hit. Weatern Newtpaper Colon.) IfrrjiARTIU GRAHAM tried tS J( smile. I IN "Even If It Isn't serious UJ me!" Doctor Trenton finished Pijgjfjff the bandage. "I know iirvV there's some pain but H'a only a slight sprain. You'll be around In a week." Martha shook her gray head and felt of her glasses absent-mindedl- "It's not the ankle that pains me so much as Christmas. All the children and grandchildren will be here. They always are. And father's helpless about housework . . ." sha sighed. "So that's It!" Doctor Trenton laughed wisely. He knew "Grandma" Graham's family. "Maybe this Is ft disguised Christmas gift" His patient shook her head dubi-ously. Christmas four days off. Noth-ing but the fruit cake made. Only Doctor Trenton knew why Alice, Martha's youngest daughter, "happened" In two days ahead of her family, and Mary and Bertha got a chance to ride over the day before. Christmas. "Happy coincidence!" they, all agreed. On Christmas day Martha surveyed her house from an easy chair, with pleased approval. Never had It been gayer. And never had Martha felt sq well acquainted with her grandchil-dren. She hadn't had time, otliel Chrlstmases when she was rushing, tired out, about the kitchen to ad-mire their presents, watch them play, and tell them stories. Now she could and did! At the table which sparkled wlti festivity, Martha beamed. "I feel llku a queen," she said gayly. Her tall son, Charlie, laughed. "This Is the first Christmas mother has ac-tually sat through a dinner without Jumping up to wait on somebody ev-ery five minutes, Isn't It, mother?" "Yes I" Alice gasped and looked ashamed. "We girls were Just saying In the kitchen we'd never realized what a huge undertaking the family Christmas was! Mother, you've been a wonder I But things will be differ-ent after thlsl" And when her little namesake smiled at her grandmother as at a newly-foun- d comrade, Martha's happi-ness was complete. She glanced at the offending ankle and whispered, "Doctor Trenton was right!" ((), U!S, Weatern Newspaper Union,) CHRISTMAS, grand-,- i HfV father!" a deep, young q III voice called out merrily. i JJ "Same to you, Billy," the f answer came back; "and Jjgllllp. a great many more of them, Vttf$l "Gee! I like that last, grandfather. It It sort of adds the right touch to the other. You yen would never hear a modern say that, would you?" Here Billy paused. "Do you know," he went on In a moment, "that sets me thinking that after all the old ways were not bad?" "Well, Billy, the old days were good days and we were not the slow, dumb crowd some of the moderns think we were. But the new days are good days, and I am glad I lived to see this age. "Why, Billy !" the old man grew ex-cited as he went on, "this generation has accomplished wonders. Think of the facts that have been done of late. And there are as many heroes as ever before. This year I have been clipping news Items from the papers about heroic deeds, and I have a record her, of nearly a hundred deeds of sacrifice and heroism. I don't think any ge could have beat that very much." Billy's eager blue eyes glistened. Bashfully he reached out his hand and put It over the worn old hand that lay on the arm of the chair: "Thanks, grandfather," he acknowledged huskily. "You're right. We may seem to be a hurrying, rather selfish crowd nowa-days, but but when It comes to the real test, we can deliver the goods. And In spite of the masks we wear, we've got a lot of sentiment left" "Christmas answers that, Billy," the old man said slowly. "We need only look around us to see that men and women are Just as they always were and, maybe, Just a little bit better." Q. JI9. Weatern Newspaper Union.) a sign, "keep out this means you!" It was really for the good of her work, but Anita thought 'twas because her smock wasn't smart. And when, the day before Christmas, she peeped out for a look at the clock, there was the entire office force, dashing out In response to a fire drill. No one had remembered to call her I "S'ppse If there should be a real fire, they'd let me burn to a crisp," she told herself In self pity. And then she saw she wasn't quite alone. Grace Poore was still in the cage, where, as near as Anita could make out, she earned a living wage by contemplation of a rose in a vase and not another thing. Just as Anita was reflecting on the injustice of this, a noise from be-low sent her flying to the window. A Siren and the alley crowded with milling apparatus. She dropped the drawer "Cra to Cub," snatched her thin purse from the niche "Zy" and ran to give warning. Now Grace had deliberately cut the fire drill In order to tie some anony-mous gifts to the tree, which was set forth In a front office. "No. IT caught her, and had a view of the glorious tree and festive table, prepared by a caterer with china, flowers and the souvenir boxes of chocolates contrib-uted by the firm, Angry-a- nd con-science stricken as well Grace said something very bitter about "snoop-ing" which Anita Interrupted by a dignified "Pardon me, Miss Poore, but it's not a drill, it's a real fire! If lack of at-tention she had anticipated any to her warning, it was dis-sipated when Grace, waiting for noth-ing, catapulted into the hall and down the stairs. I have seventeen dear to get" Poore went around when she should fIXTEKN been keeping the books. Her for the office tree. for Number Seventeen, A new girl, and nobody liked her. The office force like one family, until she came. United even In uniform of smocks, one for each week day lilac, nlle, orchid, daffodil, rose, blue. But the mew girl, Anita Marsh, wore the same eray linen from Mon-day morn to Saturday noon. "Helped at home couldn't afford laundry." But "unsociable" the bunch said. "After all," argued Grace, "why need she be asked to the party? Prob- - "Never shut a door, or put away a book," thought Anita. And even as she mused, fear made her want to run Just as fast. Then she ignored her beat-ing heart, closed the iron door on preparations to which she those party was not invited, and placed Graces books in the yawning safe. "Heaping coals of fire," gasped Grace, giving No. 17 a great hug. when she found what had been done for her after they all came trooping back with the story of a false alarm. I should have caught It good and plenty for my carelessness." "Aren't coals of fire proper?" ased Anita, winking off happy tears. "Clever gink for that you'll not be allowed to bring a single gift to the tree this evening. And as it will be late tell your folks that my folks will' bring you home in the car. Ex-cuo-e. business." please-impo- rtant Not bookkeeping. Just to tell the bunch that Anita 'Delonged and to send the office boy fr a phonograph record of that close aarmony, "fireman, save my So appropriate for the girl In the drab smock, a Weatern Newtpaper Union.) Hsd a View of the Glorious Tree and Festive Table. ably timid about going home late. iKlndness to leave her out" The bunch agreed. f Anita sensed aomethlng wrong. It was dreadful to hear a busy clack of tongues as one neared the washroom, die to silence when she entered and turned on the liquid soap. Then, too, be was put Into a small room with fcer file case, the closed door bearing imnARY nad B way of accom v'i lW P1Ishln8 the Impossible. :A I J) She could think of more fj jJ different things to do 1 lll about a situation than any- - least Dick thought so. But 'Ttjiirv' now came a time when even she had to give up. There would be no Christmas tree for little Betty and Joe. There couldn't be. In the first place they lived In a rather barren town far from Christ-mas trees. They neither grew nor were sold within a hundred miles. This was the family's first winter In the place, as Dick had been sent out by his New York firm on an engi-neering Job. Dick had been so busy he scarcely had a moment at home. His job had reached a critical point Putting It through meant everything moving away from the town, more money, better chances for bigger work. Then the day before Christmas he had thought about the tree. Mary said quietly she had been trying to get one everywhere, but had failed. "Leave It to me, Dick," she smiled. "Some-how we'll have a tree for the chil-dren, If It's no more than a feather duster trimmed with popcorn !" .He came In very late Christmas eve. The house was dark and quiet Mary was asleep so he asked no questions about the tree. Next morning he was awakened by shrieks and squeals of the children. They were out doors. Dick ran to the window to see what was the mat-ter. There a sight met his eyes that he would never forget. The children and Mary were danc-ing around the loveliest tree he bad ever seen In his life. It was not spruce, pine, fir or hemlock. It was, or had been until this transforma-tion, a scraggy old apple tree. Now It looked like some- - thing out of fairyland. Mary had cut up yards and yards of paper and crinkled it and thrown It over the bare branches. It looked like scow. Presents hung from every limb. There were even a few candles. The chil-dren shrieked with Joy at It. "No man," said Dick solemnly to himself, "ought to dare to fall . . . with a wife like Mary." Then he dressed and ran down to about happily with the children. (, 192a, Weatern Ntwepaper Union.) Importance of Keeping New Year Resolutions Many ot our New Year resolutions are designated to correct trivial fall-ings, but the Importance of their be-ing kept Is only Increased thereby. For they are the trlvlulltlifs which wear one down and take ceaseless toll of him, as the Chinese contrive an exquisite torture of the slow drop-ping of water. There are few men who do not face a great matter bold-ly, and with dignity and courage, but they are many who conclude that the small matter Is not worthy of facing, . , since It seems to make but little de-mand upon heroism. Nevertheless, at this time of the year we see truly for the once, perceiving the small matters to be ominous In the aggregate, and of proportions sufficiently fearsome to engage of the Interest of any valiant. A great pity It Is that this clarity of vision must pass, In large degree, and that we shall wonder why ever w thought It worth while to resolve against our minor follies and strugsl-t- o overcome them, , " Peat Made From Carbonized Plants "dug peat." In modern times excava-tors and dredses are sometimes used and drying Is hastened by heated chambers. Peat Is used as fuel, and as a source of fuel gas, ammonia, fer tlllJier and a process for making paper of it has been developed. The plants giving origin to peat are "iiilnly aquatic reeds, rushes, sedges and mosses. The vegetable tissues die ar) begin to rot becoming water-l"Ke-and sinking to the bottom of the pool. As this deposit becomes thicker, the lower layers become com-pressed and carbonized The forma-tion of peat seems to require a moist atnisrhere and a low mean tempera-Pea- t winning la done by cut ting a trencb about a foot deep with a peculiarly shaped spade, called In Ireland a "slune," and removing sods from 3 to feet loog. When one lay er Is removed the next la attacked If the deposit Is very solid, step working Is employed. The sods are allowed to drain and then are stacked for dry-ing, a process which may take six weeks. They are sometimes turned so as to dry evenly. Dried sods are called Beret and Scarf Match Suit, Says Fashion Note In the long ago when the terra tout ensemble was heard only now and then and taken with much levity, wardrobe assembling was easy. Yet we are grateful for the compli-cations that have set In during recent seasons I For without the demands of the ensemble as we know It today, how did anyone ever manage to look really smart? What Is an extra honr or two spent In looking for a perfect complement to this or that alongside of that deep, thrilling satisfaction that comes from knowing that one Is well put together? New ideas In ensembllng break at the rate of about two a minute. It seems. Yet the pace Is not too quick for those who make a pleasant, stim-ulating game of fashion. At the moment the most energetl of the young ensenibllsts are exploit Ing the newest thought the suit or frock with beret and short scarf to watch. Old Legend of th Sea The Flying Dutchman was a Dutch sea captain named Van Straateo, who was condemned to sail the high seas in a spectral ship. The sight of this ship was regarded as a bad omen by sail-ors. Similar legends are current In Germany and England. Originally It la related that the captain was delaye.l by head winds while trying to turn the Cape of Good Hope and swore blas-phemously that he would beat aroun I it If It took him until Judgment day to do It Catbage Not Modern Early civilization used the cabbage. Egyptians considered It of great Im-portance. Hypocrates ascribed medical properties to it Cato and Pythagoras mention It In their writings. |