BY PARCELS POST;

A HAPPY CHRISTMAS BOX.

It is growing dusk on a December after noon. All day long a slight fog has hung over the metropolis, and this is rapidly changing to a heavy drizzle. It is just the sort of day that may be described as " gloomy "—'just the sort of weather to encourage c, fit of the blue-stand tbe out look at P.ddington Station is decidedly melancholy. So" at least one of the foot passengers seems to think|as he stands for a moment at the door of the principal waiting room. He is a tall, spare old man, with a stern, gloomy face, and an expression of discontent which seems to be habitual. Just for a moment he stands looking out, then, with a shrug of his lean shoulders, he turns into tbe waiting-room, ami throwing himself into a chair, opens the inevitable newspaper, and settles himself with the air of an Englishman who does not wish to be disturbed. Hut alas ! for him, if be wisher- for quiet. On the couch near the tire three young ladies are seated, chatting busily, and, it must be confessed. <i little noisily also. They have had the waiting-room all to them selves, and are unaware oi the entrance ola stranger. "So there are to be grand doings at Southholm now Harry Lent.:'.' ii-of age vi Christmas. 01 course, you are going, Millie-cut; it will be quite an event for you. It is the eldest of the three who speak.-, a tall showy girl, Ada Carlton by name. "It, mil be quire an event,' the girl -be calls MiUicent answers, with evident em- j barrassrnent, "but 1 am not going." " Not going? lint why. Millie?" say? the third, a dark-eyed, lively young lady hc-i companion.- call Clinic. "Forthe best..! all reasons," says Millie, with a laugh that -cuiis rather lorced—" 1 am not asked." "But, Millie," per-i-ts Ada, "we h. aid from good authority that you were engaged t , I bury Lenox." "Ami." pals in tiie lively Clarie, " I must say I think it very mean o! you, dear, to keen it such a -ccr. ' all this I«'H-j v. bile. I am sure when (h ir, d.tilin. Paul Rut Millie has evidently heard oi the "tlear darlin- Paul" b. fore, and, wishing, t, be spared the whole history of that im maculate individual's proposal and subs. (p.cut acceptance, which i- Clarie'.- favour ite topic, she interpose-— "I am certainly not engaged to Harry Lenox." "Well, dear, 1 was told for certain that be bad proposed to yon." "And you must have accepted him.' cries Clarie. "U hy, he i-the ealeh o! the enmity, and. considering \ our position no offence, darling- I think it would be a fan.mis chance for you." Millie sees that" not lihi_- less I ban a full explanation will satisfy her companions and crop exaggerated report, so, with evident effort, she replies : "It is true that Harry Lenox prnjiosed to me, and -■ and wehojied to ha\_ been engaged: but you know that Harry's untie, to whom Harry owes everything, lias a grcatdi. .ike to all girls, penniless ones in particular, and, though he has n.-vi r seen me, lie made up his mind that 1 only wired for the position Harry could give me, and not for Harry himself. I believe he called mean 'enter prising v.eing adventuress,' and other hard names" when Harry broached the subject te him. At any rate, he flatly refused his consent." ■■ Knt, surely Harry did not Lite you up so easily':" " Noj no," answers Millie, with crimson cheeks: "he tried hard to persuade me to be engaged to him, and il was a great temptation, for indeed I do love him very dearly ; but I could not -it would not have been "right, for Harry ewes everything to his uncle, antl I would not injure his pros pects in any way. I'esides," she adds, proudly, "1 would not enter a family that looked down on me. "How comes it that Mr Lenox has sue], an antipathy to our sex ?" laughs Ada. " What a cantankerous old gentleman he must be !" "He has been very good to Harry," answers Millie, earnestly; "I can never forget that. He even saved his life once, when he was a lad. at the risk of his own. And as for his antipathy, I believe he has some cause for that. He was engaged some years ago to a young girl, whom he loved very fondly, and some few weeks before what was to have boon their wedding day be overheard a conversation in which she declared to a friend that she was only marrying him for his money, and that she thought him a perfect ogre." "And he gave her up, I suppose, and serve her right. But, dear, it is too bad of him to come between your happiness like ♦bis. I suppose he takes his revenge wholesale." "It has destroyed his faith in all women," says Millie, sadly. " Poor oltl gentleman, how unhappy he must be ! It would be downright wicked to make Hairy treat him badly, he is so entirely wrapped up in him." " Well, you are an 'angel, Millie. Cood gracious ! what is that?" It is only the old gentleman, who, perhaps, weary of a conversation ■which cannot possibly be interesting to him. is making for the door. It is rather startling for the girls, who have had no idea of a listener, and they look slightly uncomfort able.

" He must have beard every word," cries Clarie. "Horrid old thing, why didn't hu cough ':"

"Oh !" says Millie, "see, he lias left a parcel behind him '."

And, with a hasty apology lo her com panions, she hastens to the platform.

A train is just starling, and, after a hurried glance into the dili'erent compart ments, -Millie descries the obj.ct oi hor search, his long, lean visage stating gloomily out into the gathering darkness.

He takes the parcel without' thanks, but with a keen look into the girl's face; and, with a pleasant smile and a graceful inclina tion of her pretty bead, Millie runs o. ' and quickly joins her companions.

"Littlo mother, you have tiie cool upside down."

-Millicent rouses herself from her reverie, and smiles pleasantly into her little sisters wondering eyes.

" I am afraid ' little mother's ' h its were wooll gathering," she answers, stroking the little one's curly head. " I'ut come, dear, we must get on with this spelling."

So bright she is, she quite deceives her father, who says in a relieved manner to his wife, " I am glad our Millicent: is not taking this business to heart—l was afraid she would."

.Mrs Dacre answers with a half-smile and a shake of her head. She has gauged the depths of her Utile (laughter's brave, patient nature, and knows what a full heart the girl carries beneath her quiet exterior.

"Alctter for yon, .Miss .Millie," says old Hannah, opening the school-room door.

"For me!" surprisedly—then, as she notes tho strange handwriting, and the familiar monogram, with Hushed cheeks she hastens with it to the dining-room, and soon a family council arc sitting in solemn

conclave on the important missive. It is a politely-worded invitation from the master of Southholm, requesting the pleasure, of Miss Millicent Dacrc's company on Christ mas Eve. It also intimates that the carriage will call for Miss Uacre at half-pa?..

nine. . . ~ " Well, it leaves you no choice ot refusal, laughs Mr Uacre. " Rather a cool missive,

" Papa, it must be a hoax," cries Millie, distressfully. "It cannot be for me." "It is certainly the handwriting of Mr Lenox. I have seen it frequently in our business relations together. See, 1 have a letter from him here." And the handwritings compared prove to be exactly similar. "There is a parcel come for you, Miss Millicent," says Hannah's voice once more —this time with a suppressed giggle in it— " by parcels' post." A bulky package it proves to be, in which, when opened, Millie finds a lovely dress of cream satin, simply but exquisitely made, with dainty slippers, and all the requisites foi a complete ball costume. '• It cannot be for me," cries ]>oor bewil dered Millicent. "There must be some mistake." Kut the label, when consulted, clearly proves that the package is. intended for Mis.- Millie Dacre, and no othei. The post mark is London, so give- no clue to the mystery. . •' My darling, there is more in this than meets "the eve." says Mr Dacre, fondly, as he lakes the" girl's trembling hands in his. "Mo not distress yourself, dear. The plot. whatever it is, will, I think, prove a plea sant one. Let us have some tea, and then mamma will help you to tion these marvel lou.- 'anoints, and 1 myself will go with you to the ball to see that all is right. Our little Millie will look like a queen to night." ii i- Christmas Kve. Southolm i- all ablaze '..ith light ; and a- Millie stands for a brief space alone in the great hall, her heart almost fails her. Only font moment : the next, v hand i placed en hei shoulder, and a kind though strange voice bid.-her welcome. |. i- 1 cr ..M gentleman of Hie day before. "My dear, 1 iimsl introduce myself, thou'di v, c have me! before. I see you remember. V.: are Miss Millie Dacre, and I am Mi Li rm..x—Jlanv's nnd.. The i,..re." he add-, with a smile. "Ho 1 look so v.-rv dreadlul?" Hi-' smile is wonderfully reassuring— (piiie altering the character of bis face, which -'..in- usually gloomy and unpre " Now, my dear," he adds, "will you come with me to my study': 1 will not detain you long. I 'have a few words to say lo y v, and we .-hall be uninterrupted I Almost in n dream, Millie fellows him. » There, he goes on, when, divested of l!_t wrap.--, he has made her comfortable in an aim-chair near the tire, and has taken another opposite—"now we can have our little chat. Hut will the tire .-'i»oil your dress? "—glancing approvingly at the pretty girlish figure. "Oh: Mr Lenox," cries Millie, impul sively, starting to her feet. " Did you — was it you who sent me all these pretty things?' I know it was. though," she adds, a- (be old man does not speak. " How good—how kind of you. How can J thank "There, there," says the old man, testily," that will do. "dust like a girl thinking first of gewgaws and finery. Listen to what 1 have to say." Then he goes on to tell her how ho had overheard her conversation with her friends in the waiting-room at I'addington, and bow, convinced, by Millie's earnest words and simple manner, of tho truth of her affection for his nephew (poor Millie's cheeks burned as -l.c listened), and also charmed with her courtesy to himself, he had, on the .-pur of the moment, made up his mind to reconsider his decision—with tbe result -he had seen. Much more he tells her, to the same pur pose, and finishes by saying — " I am an old man, you know, my dear, and the old have as much right to their otldities as the young their fancies. So, my dear, if you can forgive me for the liberty I have taken, and let bygones be bygones, we will do our best, to make you happy. What do you say?" Hut Millie can only answer with her tears. ''lile.-.s me, bless me," cries the old gentleman, much disconcerted, "1 must call Harry. Lucky young dog. What a surprise it will be for him !" A minute later Millie is clasped in the strung young arms of her astonished lover ; and Mr Lenox, quite overcome by the tumult he has raised in his own quiet study, takes refuge behind a big bureau, and blows his nose violently. The happiness that Christmas Kve need not be described. The imagination of the youthful reader, and the experience of the more mature, will readily supply the de tails. Happy though that evening was, it was surpassed by one that followed in a few months, when Millio and Harry were united for life, simultaneously with the marriage of Clarie and her " dear darling Paul."

Cat Show at the Crystal Palace.

Tiikkk was a cat show at the Crystal Palace last month. Tbe show occupied the

greater part of the nave of the palace, under an awning decorated with Hags. The

entries numbered 333, divided into fifty classes, several of whtcb were for cats bo longing lo working men. There were three money prizes of .t'l 10sand us respect ively, and also nine silver medals. The two silver medals for tho best male and the he-si female short-haired cats were both wnu by .Mrs I. c, who exhibited two im ported .Siamese cats, one aged four and the ..ther tit., year.-. These Asiatic cats, with I heir black fnces, sleepy-looking violet eyes and faun coloured bodies, lying upon light blue satin cushions, attracted not a little

attention. Amongst the eats that attracted attention may be mentioned one named Zulu, which was jet black all over, with two perfectly white kittens. A fat red tabby named Bob was much caressed. It was an nounced thai although he had attained the advanced age-of H years, he could turn the scale for Hi pounds. He was ticketed as the winner of 17 first prizes, and Miss D. Ham mond, the owner, annexed to him the fancy value ot .£_,<.u. Another favourite was a white Persian, .Mistletoe, reclining in a most luxurious fashion on a light-blue cushion, a veteran of thirteen years, and the proud winner cf forts six first and six teen special prizes. A tabby long haired cat, named I'ompey, three years old, made him-elf conspicuous by looking steadfastly upwards for several minutes at a tune, ami then gnashing his teeth and whining in a piteous manner. Speculation was rife as to whether this was grief at being away from home and amid strange surroundings. But the conclusion ulti mately come lo by the observing was that it all arose from chagrin at not being able lo get at sonic Hies that occasionally settled outside the bars overhead.

A SAN, FRANCISCO TRAGEDY.

"Jnhappy Love and Romantic Suicide,

Tun most tragic of all San Francisco's | tragic deaths was discovered the other morning in the basement of 732, Vallejo street. There, for a few weeks past, have resided Uominico Dematei, a well-to-do j saloon -keeper, and his bride of a month, . Angolla Dematei [nee Maria Angella Perazzo j di'C iacomo), Dematei- saloon is under the ■ Broadway Block House, at the corner of ' Kearny street and Broadway, and in it he spent his night from 8 p.m. until daybreak, and even later. Wed nesday morning he was detained until 10 o'clock, and when he attempted to gain admission at his front door he found it locked. He obtained no answer te his oft repeated knocks, and finally stepped from the walk to his wife's bed-room window, and, opening on tbe street. With much difficulty he succeeded in clambering up so that be could obtain a look at the interior, when tbe form of bis wife was revealed to him, lying prostrate on the iloor. He called several time-, but received no answer, and, becoming alarmed, he burst in the door, only to find his wife to be dead. With a yell of terror he rushed from the room and to the Coroner's office, evidently labouring under the impression that the Morgue attaches could resuscitate her, if such a Vuur r ' were possible. In response to his appeals, Deputy-Coroner Croom started for the scene of the death, and arrived in such good time that the rapidly-gathering crowd had touched nothing. TIIK IiKAIi WILE, The ,-cene was not au unusual one in the life of a Coroner's deputy. A corpse, fully dressed, lay on the Iloor of a handsomely furnished bed-chamber, with no wound or outward sign to betoken that death was not the result of a paroxysm of that treacherous organ called the heart, or 'me of any oi the numerous complications that cause death in a second, whole an instant before all was animation and life. The body was that oi a young woman oi magnificent form, and with a dark, handsome face, of a type that proclaimed her to be of the Italian race. The dress was neat, with nothing oi guadi nc. about it, well-iitting and eo.-tly. It clung to the figure as though il had been draped after the dead girl had ci_ii|_i_.-d herself for a fiesta, and the smiling cheery lips seem to mock the idea of death having stagnated the rich blood that formerly man tled the peachy cheeks to a corresponding hue. Hut young women in such physical condition seldom die without au easily din covered cau.-e and the practiced eye of the attache oi .li. _n; a el::;•■ e1 n_i.se be; an Lo rove about the room in search of evidence. Two letters in Italian were found, the first 01' which, addresses! "To all the world," were to the following effect :— " All for love 1 leave this world all for death. Cod bless the angels who will

guide me to eternity. Why have I not what 1 love in this world. It is better to die than put up with a cursed marriage to one you cannot love. All the time oi my life I have given myself to Heaven and to my husband, and I have not found in him that which I sought. I thought I would I*. content in this marriage. 1 would have been content to marry him whom 1 love and with whom lam content to die. 1 have thought J would be more happy in pleasing my tat her and mother by cancelling my love for the Presidio musician, as my parents did not like a military lover, i have since thought that it were better to be dead than to live with the man to whom 1 wu-t married against my will. In living I would alv.ay have been a source of lamentation to the man I loved. All the evil I have done will be pardoned—a miser able creature, who is about to part with this world. Farewell, farewell, beloved father antl mother. I die contented in tlie love of Ciuseppi Cianatti. Have the kind ness to inter both of us in one sepulchre side by side.

The second letter, on translation, proved t:i read as folic ws : —

San Francisco, November 6, ISS3.

Hear father and Mother: Learn by this that I have received your letter. You think that you havo made for me a good marriage. On tbe contrary, I have been unhappy and heart sick ever since I think of the youth who would have shared bis fortune with mine and whose love would have made me happy. It is my intention to die rather than live without possessing him. I bid you an affec tionate farewell. With a million kisses and a broken heart, farewell, farewell, bereaved father and mother and all the household.— I am your daughter, A. c;ELLA. Enquiry elicited that a young Italian named Gianatti was the person alluded to as the one with whom Angolla was content to die, and he was accordingly arrested. In broken English he told the strange story of his amours with Angella and her tragic death.

According to Gianatti, the events pro ceeding tlie suicide and the scene in her bed-room, just prior to swallowing the fatal draught if dramatised and portrayed by a capable actress, would sink into oblivion all remembrances of v Camille," " 1-You Frou,"" Cora," " .Mine. Vine," or any of the strongest characters of that description now played by every emotional star in the country. Their acquaintance, he said, began eight months back, and was by chance, the usual way. Angella, as she was generally called, was sent to her uncle here by her parents in Messina, about three years ago, wiien she was but seventeen. The family were not in even moderate circumstances financially, and the pretty Angella was obliged to con tribute her mite to the general support, which she did by obtaining a situation in a cigar store kept by ore 01 her countrymen on Dupont-street, somewhere in the Latin quarter. Her pretty face proved a great card for tho store, and many a young -al ln.it made himself sick by an overindulgence in cigars, purchased so thai, he might linger about tbe store and snake love to the pretty clerk. Smiles Angella had for all, but they were shallow, and her light heart was not stirred until late in Feb ruary last, when f.ianatti strolled in in all the glory of bis scarlet, blue and gold uniform. He was accompanied by a friend in search of cigars, but in addition to smoke Gianatti received a wound more serious than he could have sustained in a lifetime spent on the Presidio battle fields.

TREATING HER SOLDIKK LOVKK OS THE SLY

He lingered, and she, nothing loth, encouraged him by treating him on the sly when the proprietor was looking the other way. Then he walked home with hor and then he made a call, aud in less than July the two were plighle 1 lovers. AH this time the relatives here had been endeavouring to drive Gianatti from the field and introduced Dematei, who was rapidly killing himself with his stock for love of Angella. Finally they wrote to her parents, informing them of the state of affairs, and quick came tho answer, being a peremptory command to Angella to marry as her uncle directed. Disobedience in matters of this sort is unknown in Italy, and the poor girl

sorrowfully bade her soldier lover good-by at their next meeting, and prepared 1 for the sacrifice that was to make her Mrs Dematei. That ceremony was per formed just four weeks ago, and the unwilling bride behaved so well that Dematei flattered himself that the soldier was forgotten. Unfortunately for him, Gianatti and Angella met a fortnight since —by chance, 'tis true, but all the old j passion burst into its former flame in the i heart of the latter. Gianatti was disposed [ to be careless and avoid trouble by doffing j his old love entirely, but the fiery advances j of Angella soon brought him around again, j and in a day or two he was a daily or rather nightly visitor at 732. MEETIKGS AT HIGHT. Dematei being away all night, and the entrance to their rooms being on the base ment, there waslittledangerof detection, and they enjoyed themselves without fear of in terruption until the lateness of the hour warned Gianatti te get away. During the past three days, her lover says, she has been feverish and excited, and has continually talked about death, asking him if he was afraid to die, and if it would not be the proper thing for them to die together. When he visited her Tuesday night it was nearly 9.30 o'clock, and he had been drinking heavily. As the door was opened she bounded, forward with a glad cry and elapsed her arms about his neck with a force that caused him to reel and almost fall. Then she led him to her room and caressed him with an energyt hat almost amounted to ferocity, only occasionally leaving him to pour out whisky from the large bottle for both. Finally, they both retired. After several minutes the woman said : "Joe, let me give you a drink with some bitters in it. You like bitters, don't you, Joe':" THE FATAL DRINK. Gianatti acquiesced with drunken gravity, and she tilled the wine glasses to the brim from the small bottle. Handing him one, she drained the other, and then coaxed him to follow her example. But "Joe" was drunk and obstinate, and did not like the liquor's bitter taste. In a moment he spat out what he had taken into his mouth, but she persisted, and held the glass to his mouth for him te drink the remainder. He took it in his mouth, but his overtaxed stomach refused to accept the burden, and again it went to the floor. The agonised woman turned to reach for the bottle, and fairly screamed : "Oh, my Cod, Joe, don't

you love me. Drink, Joe, drink with me. It will make you alive and loving, dearest; please drink." But Gianatti could not drink, and half the contents of the bottle were spilled in an endeavour on his part to pour out a glass. By this time the deadly strychnine began its terri ble work on the woman, and she could scarcely speak as she staggered toward him once more, faintly calling: "Drink, Joe, drink just one. Oh, God, Joe, you must drink if you love me. Don't you see I'm not afraid to die." These were her last articulate words, and with them she fell to the floor, clasping her hands over her stomach, and writhing in the most terrible convulsions until death relieved her some ten minutes later. Sobered in an instant, the dead woman's lover smoothed her dress, took from her throat a pin containing his picture, which she always wore, and iled through the dark back alleys like a hunted fugitive. A search of the suicide's effects revealed three letters from Cianatti to her, all writ ten since her marriage and filled with promises of his readiness to die for or with her, all of which, it is needless to say, were

An inquest was held by the Coroner, and resulted in a verdict of suicide, with no implication of her lover, Gianatti. Her brother identified the body, and Gianatti testified to the scene in her bedroom, and to her swallowing the poison, after which the case was submitted to the jury without further evidence. Cianatti was afraid of being killed by the woman's husband, who has threatened him, and Chief Crowley fur nish :d him an escort to his home at the Presidio.

AHEAD AT STAKE.

Amoni; the most sanguinary men who ruled France during the first great French Revolution was Maximilian Robespierre, whose mere namo made everybody shudder. Very proud, not only in public, but in private affairs.he was always boasting that nobody could beat him at chess-playing. Nebody could, indeed, because his adversaries knew that his win ning of a game might be the loss of their head.

One evening, after he had won several games at his favourite pursuit, the door was opened, and a very delicate youth came in, who sat down in tlie cafe over against the always unbeaten player. Without removing his broad hat, the new adver sary opened wRh a R«y Lopee. Robes pierre, with a scornful and cruel smile, accepted the challenge. But, after a f«w moves, he perceived that his opponent was no despicable one ; and he tried to bewilder him by some unusual play. But all was no use. Scarcely half-an-hour had elapsed before the young champion said gently, with a smile: "Checkmate!"

"Robespierre looked wild and threaten ing. In a very low voice, he hissed : " Re venge I"

They resumed the game, but with the same result. Thero fell an awful silence in _ie room, while Robespierre gnawed his fingers till tho blood ran, and choking with rage, gasped : " Well; you are the winner; what was the stake, by the way?" " The head of Young Count—he is to be sent to the guillotine to-morrow, but now I require you give me a certificate of citizen ship for him, so as I can go and liberate him."

_-"^~°t I! liberate an aristo., indeed! pah !"

"If you do not, all the world will know from me that Robespierre has been beaten at chess and will not pay the stake." The eyes of the winner was sparkling with defiance ; those of the defeated man flashing with spite.

"Here is what you exact," muttered tho tyrant "But who are you, Citizen?" "You should more properly say ! Citizeness !"

The broad hat was put off and long curly hair was seen undulating around a lovely young maiden's face. "I am be throthed to my stake I Thanks—fare well 1"

A bachelor and a spinster who had been schoolmates in youth, and were about the same age, met in after years, and the lady chancing to remark that " men live a great deal faster than women," the bachelor re turned, "Yes, Maria. The last time we met we were each 2-1 yeats old. Now I'm over 40, and I hear you haven't reached 30 vet." They never rant a.am.

A CHRISTMAS SUPERSTITION.

Last Christmas Day fell upon a Monday and according tean ancient prophecy of,_,' known authorship, that occurrence T tends various dire calamities, tv augury is in old " Mother Shipton » ver » _ and runs as follows :— If Christmas Day on a Monday be, A great winter that year you'll see, And full of winds both loud and uhrill ■ But in summer, truth to tell, ' :' si) High winds shall there be, and strong. Full of tempests lasting Jong ; While battles they shall multiply, And great plenty of beasts shall die. They that be born that day, I ween. They shall be strong each one, and keen - He 6hall be found that stealeth aught • ' ■■■ Tho' thou be sick, thou diest not. Eighteen years ago Christmas Day fella, a Monday, and ISGG was the year of t_* Austro-Prussian War, a year of disasw storms and gales, and a year when ti» cattle plague was prevalent." Twelve yea, ago, in .671, Christmas Day fell on a Mm day.and the 12 months following sawcatUa plague in the North, and more or 1«, storms ; but as to " battles " we mart™ back a lew months in 1871 for the capita lation of Paris and the conflict with __.' French Commune. Seven vears|ago we had a Monday Christmas, and that of last year made the tilth within IS years. P.emarkabl enough, tlie events of last year seem ii many points to verify the pronhecy Scarcely was last Christmas over, befoej". there were furious gales in England, «_£ the season deserved the epithet of a gseat winter, while the summer weather which, we have so far experienced here has been' " full of tempests lasting loae,"- The multiplying of battles may be; held to apply to tho campaign in Soudan, and the French aggressive e_. peditions in Madagascar and Tonquin," Then, as to the line which declares that b\ " Great plenty of beasts shall die," it is significant that the foot-and-mouth disease has been fearfully prevalent among cattle in England, while in Australia tern of thousands of sheep have perished from drought within the past few months. The points of the prophecy referring te births and illnesses on Christmas Day are not so. easy of verification ; but we fancy the police of the antipodes at least will agree tbatthei.-. never was a luckier year for detecting awl capturing thieves and robbers of every de scription. The year is now nearly expired. and fortunately there is no train of evils a_«~ sociated with the falling of Christmas on ». Tuesday, so that those who believe in prog. nostications may enter upon the approach ing New Year undisturbed by fears M natural or social convulsions.

CHRISTMAS JOKES.

Theodore Hook at a Christmas party onoe made the following pun on a Mr Winter, a tax collector:— There comes xlr Winter, collector of taxes, I'd advise you to pay him whatever he aiesja Kxcuses won't do, he stands no sort of flum mery. Thoui;h Winter his name, his proceedings aXe summary. - 1

A CHRISTMAS CARD.

Dear Bob.—l know that you'll X QQQ The wailinss of a Christmas M UUt\. ' I'm C I. dropping to IJ K. With not a sou my debts to pay: So lean a wiuht .Vl>u ne'er did see, Hook just like an F I G.

A Novel Christmas Dinner.

When" the late Dr. Samuel Butler, Bishopof' Lichfield, was ~ young man, holding a country curacy, the celebrated Dr. Pair, who live, at no great distance, used sonae-"' time* to ride over and take an early disner with him at Christmas. The equestrian.: was overtaken by heavy rain, and reached his destination in a dripping condition.. The curate took him immediately into hhr bedroom, where there was a good fire, and supplied him with a change of cloth-: ing. Presently the doctor re-entered,.: arrayed in his friend's dressing-gown:' and slippers, with a nightcap palled: over his ears. Ten minutes or so went by in silence, when Dr. Parr raised his head,! gave one or two preliminary sniffs, and then, looking round, lisped out in k>n_oF deep interest, " Gooth for dinner, T_ta_r; ; " I really don't know, doctor, I hopetho. may be. My housekeeper knows yon ore fond of goose." Then the appetising odour of a savoury roast pervaded the apartment more and more. " I'm thure it'll a gooth,. Tham," said the doctor, smacking hislips.. "Dinner's ready, please,'" said tS. maid, opening the door. Up jumped: the guest, and hurried into thii, bedroom to don the clothes he had left thereto dry. Horror of horrors, what I sight met his eye ! His cherished headgear, his well-powdered and pomatumed wig, lajr in the fender, frizzling in its own fat, a_ while browning nicely before the fi& exhaled the odour which had so tickled ha olfactory nerves, and raised up hopes o_|f. to be thus cruelly overthrown.

A provident and businesslike New Yorkaj>;: on leaving the city to spend Christnai.-:'. with a friend, placed a placard just insii the hall door couched in the following language:—"To burglars or thos intending to burgle: All my plattj1 jewellery, and other valuables are -,!'. the Safe Deposit Company's vault.; i. The trunks, cupboards, &c, contain nothing but second-hand clothing a-lfNbu similar mutters too bulky to remove, and; !: on which you would realise comparatively,1 little. The keys are in the left-hand toJI>". drawer of the sideboard—if you doubt my>-; word. You will also find there a certified cheque to bearer for lifty dollars, which will remunerate your loss of time and dis* appointment. Please to wipe your feet on", the mat, and don't spill any candle-grease on the carpets."

He Had His Christmas Joke.

Waiter (bawling to the cook): "One-.f, roast goose and one potato." Old gentle-/' man : "No, no 1 Not so much goose, and . more potatoes."

Uncle and Laundress.

A YODKO gentleman who was about to write his uncle to send him a Christmis card, and who is very particular about the getting up of his linen, wrote a note at the same time to his laundress. Unfortunatelyi. _ he put the wrong address on the envelopes ■■ and posted them. The woman was puzzled, but not in the least offended with her mis sive. The uncle, however, read with rage —" If you rumple up my shirt fronts, and-, drag the button off the "collar any more, as ;' you did last time, I .hall have to go some where else." Ho never asked his nephew

STAR SATURDAY SUPPLEMENT, DECEMBER 22, 1883

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