The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-12-24 00:00:00

EXTRACTS FROM THE ANNUALS.

CHRISTMAS BELLS.—The sexton often goes into
the tower on a sad errand. He gives a strong
pull at the rope, and forth from the toyer
goes a dismal sound that makes the heart sink.
But he can now go up the old stairs with a
lithe step, and pull quick and sharp, waking up all
the echoes of cavern and hill with Christmas bells. The
days of joy have come, days of reunion, days of con-
gratulation. 'Behold, I bring you good tidings of
great joy, that shall be to all people; First, let the
bells ring at the birth of Jesus! Mary watching, the
camels moaning, the shepherds rousing up, the angels
hovering, all Bethlehem stirring. What a night!
Out of its black wing is plucked the pen from which
to write the brightest songs of earth and the richest
doxologies of heaven. Let camel or ox stabled that
night in Bethlehem, after the burden bearing of the
day, stand and look at Him who is to carry the
burdens of the world. Put back the straw, and
hear the first cry of Him who is come to assuage the
lamentation of all ages. Christmas bells ring out the
peals of nations! We want on our standards less of
the lion and eagle, and more of the lamb and the dove.
Let all the cannon be dismounted, and the war-horses
change their gorgeous caparisons for plough harness.
Let us have fewer bullets and mere bread. Life is too
precious to dash it out against the brick casements.
The first Peace Society' was born in the clouds, and
its resolution was passed unanimously by angelic
voices, • Peace on earth, goodwill to men.' Christmas
bells ring in family reunions! The rail-trains are
crowded with children coming home. The poultry,
fed as never since they were born, stand wondering at
the farmer's generosity. Tha markets are full of
massacred barn-yards. The great table will be spread
and crowded with two or three or four geaerations.
Plant the fork astride the breast-bone, and with skilful
twitch, that we could never learn, give to all the hungry
lookers-on a specimen of holiday anatomy. Florence is
disposed to soar; give her the wing. The boy is
fond of music : give him the drumstick. The minister
is dining with you; give him the parson's nose. May
the joy reach from grandfather, who is so dreadfully
old that he can hardly find the way to his plate, down
to the baby in the high chair, who with one smart
pull of the tablecloth upsets the gravy into the cran-
berry. Send from your table a liberal portion to the
table of the poor, some of the white meat as well as
the dark, not confining generosity to gizzards and
scraps. Do not, as in some families, keep a plate and
chair for those who are dead and gone ; your holiday
feast would be but poor fare for them; they are at a
better banquet. Let the whole land be full of
chime and carol. Let bells, silver and brazen, take
their sweetest voice, and all the towers of Christendom
rain music.—T. De Witt Talmage, in the Christmas
number of The Christian Million
TRIITTI AND DAMAGES.—What the counsel for the
plaintiff in the breach of promise case didn't say:
Gentlemen of the Jury: My client has now reached
the mellow but slightly fly-blown age of 37 years.
She comes before you now after a lifetime of un-
remitting exertions to secure a husband. Her tireless
Industry in this line is generally acknowledged in her
own town. There is not a single man there who
cannot testify to this fact of his own knowledge. If
there were any double men there, they would tell you
the same thing. There are men in that little village,
in that peaceful, happy, Arcadian little burg, who get
down on their knees every night of their lives and
thank Heaven for their hair-breadth escape from
marrying the plaintiff. They are grateful to Heaven
although they had to rustle just as hard to effect that
escape as though they had not been favoured with
any supernatural assistance. Gentlemen, my client
has belonged to every church sociable, to every
mission, to every dancing-class in her village. She
has taught in the Sunday School, and has educated
boys up to love her, only to see them go off and
marry some soulless young thing of half her age.
Gentlemen, I assure you on my personal honour that
if she had been a sewing machine agent, she could
not have canvassed that town more thoroughly. My
client, gentlemen, has worked every summer hotel
that her means would permit her to board in. She has
laboured like a tireless Trojan in getting up picnics,
private theatricals, hay-rides, and fishing excursions.
She played croquet so assiduously in the first fresh
decades of her youth that she was known as the
amateur perennial champion. And lately, in spite of
a growing tendency to rheumatism and stiffening of
the joints, she has heroically set herself to learning
the arduous game of lawn-tennis, and Ma played it
with youths whose mother she might have been, had
her exertions prevailed upon the last generation. I
tell you this, gentlemen, to show you that my client
has done her best. This is her last chance, or she
would not be here. She made the acquaintance of
this old gentleman when he providentially broke his
leg on the sidewalk in front of her house. We don't
ask him to marry her. He has nev 'r shown much in-
clination to take that desperate step, and we won't
urge him. But my client must get some of his money,
or her life—her long, hard, industrious life—is a total
failure. He has the drachmas. He can spare a few
thousand. The experience will be worth it, to him.
And, as I have before remarked, this is my (Vent's
last and only chance. Gentlemen, you have all had
mothers. Probably they never figured in breach of
eromise suits; but if they had been like my client,
• they-would have. Gentlemen, in-the ..name—in the
glorious name of womanhood—l ask you for hen
paltry thousand of this old man's golden scads.—
' Deroit Free Prces Christmas .YuntLer.

Ilr

v,
1
,uld
My
r hotel
She has
ap picnics,
, excursions.
,ne first fresh
known as the
.ately, in spite of
and stiffening of
, herself to learning
is, and Ins played it
might have been, had •
a the last generation. I
show you that my client
is is her last chance, or she
3he made the acquaintance of
when he providentially broke his
in front of her house. We don't
, her. He has nev 'r shown mnch in-
a that desperate step, and we won't
at my client must get some of his money,
her long, hard, industrious life—is a total
Ae has the drachmas. He can spare a few
a. The experience will be worth it, to him.
e I have before remarked, this is my limb's
_end only chance. Gentlemen, you have all had
chers. Probably they never figured in breach of
romise suits; but if they had been like my client,
they-would have. Gentlemen, in-the ..name—ln the
glorious name of womanhood—l ask you for ten
A' paltry thousand of this old man's golden scads.—
Deroit Free Press Christmas .YuaLer.