The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1875-11-28


were wild with delight, and were with dim.
Guilty restrained from leaping the pit and
mipgling with the actors on the "stage.. In,
deed, for many days after nothing was heard
among them but limitations of the "mummers."
There was grave dialogue about King
George" then q scDfiie epsued, and one man fell
is called; the people believe the man dead, the
doctor denies this, and says, 81 will give him
cordial, mark the effect" The resuscitated
man afterwards has tooth drawn by the
same quack, who then holds mp the tooth "a
huge, unshapely equine one provided for the
so.eoasiop), and exolaims "Why, this is more
oa ai %sis 9 sas tss fail names Meaning
the mummers play; but, whether it
was a corruption of some older and more
complete dramatic form, or the crude begin
ming of an undeveloped one, it certainly was
the character stic feature of our Christmas at
Aldred. 1t took place regularly every year,
without the slightest deviation in detail, and
Folks at Home After the actors had been
heartily cheered, and the host had addressed
to them q few kind words of thanks and recog-
nj ton. they were dismissed to the kitchen, to
their uch coveted entertainment of unlimited
beer. There they enacted their performance
once more for the servants, who then fraterniz-
ed with them on the most amiable terms.
Meanwhile, our party were gradually collect.
ing round the wood fire in the corridor. 1t was
bitter cold night, the snow was falling noise
lessly and fast, and the wind howled weirdly
trees. OR old aunt remarked, in her gentle
way:
human beings crying with cold"
1--WE look like picture mother omewhat
irrelevantly answered her son after slight
pause "the antique dresses of many of us are
quite worth an artists study"
Mrs. Burtlegh, whose blonde beauty was
coquettishly set off by q slight touch of powder
on the hair, and becoming Marie Antoinette
style of neglige, here pointedly addressed the
traveller.
."sir Pilgrim" she said, "did you ever think
of home when you had to spend Christmas in
on tlandish Countries,
eyes wandering towards Miss Houghton. who
stood resting her head against carved griffin
on the tall mantle piece.
She 8 caught his glance, and said half
sNow, if it was not too common place,
should claim a story Christmas eve is not
complete without story, at least SO the books
'.If it were required, / know one that is not
80 hackneyed as the grandmothers ghosts and
wicked ancestors we are often surfeited with
at Christmas" replied her friend quickly. The
whole circle drew closer around the fire, and
imperiously demanded an explanation.
"But that will be descending to common
place. pleaded the traveller.
''Who knows 1t may turn out the reverse,
when You have done," heedlessly said Mrs.
Burtleigh.
"Weli, if you will have it, here it is. Mind,
now, am not going to give You a three vol
ume novel, full of padding, but just tell you
one incident plain and unadorned. So do not
look forward to anything thrilling or sensa-
tional:'
COUSIN JlM's TRUE STORY.
Fastening home for Christmas, and spent three
or four days in Bruges. will spare you de-
scription Of the grand old city. and come to
| facts. 1 was just on the point of leaving, and
catch the tidal train for ostend, when man
suddenly and hurriedly came up to me, an old
servant in faded livery, who, without breath
| ing a word, placed q note in my hand, and was
| immedi a tely lost to sight in the crowd. The
waiting room was dimly lighted, but could
make out my own name, initials and all, on
the envelope. In my confusion, hurried out
of the station, and stepping into small
| hotellerie, opened the mysterious note. 1t was
very short: Come at once to No. so Rue
Neuve.' The signature was in initials only
The band riting was small and undecided.
could hardly tell if it were q mans a wo.
mans. knew my way to the Rue Neuve. not
a really neU street, but one of Bruges' most in
teresting cd throughfares. No gas, mario "
| street, great gaunt portes-cocheres, and pro
jecting windows on both sides, the pavement
uneven, and young moon just showing hel
crescent over the crazy looking houses-such
was the scene. l soon got to No. 90 1t was 6
large, dilapidated house, with every sign about
it Of decayed grandeur and diminished wealth
Two large doors, heavily barred, occupied the
lower part of the wall above were oriels anc
dormers whose stone frames we're tortured into
weird half human faces and impossible foliage
No light any where, aud for a bell a long, han 6
ing ponderous ght of iron. pulledi it, ant
a sepulchral sound answered the motion.
waited, no one came thought 1 must have
mistaken the number. Taking out the letter
however, made sare was right l pnllet
the bell again a little louder, and heard foot
steps slowly echoDg on the stone flags of the
court within. Sa6otS evidently; they mad.
a rattle like dead mons bones, thought:
little grille, or tiny wicket, was3opened, and al
old dame, shading her candle with one b:owr
hand, PeeTed susPioiously out. APPARENT!
bang, muttering to herself in Flemish; 1t wa
cold standisg on the street, and, as the port
ress of this mysterious No. 90 made no sign o
opening the door for me, was. very nearly
getting angry, and going away in no amiabl
mood at tho unknown who had played IN,
thii;s, too practical joke. Suddenly heard tn
y voice said In tolerably good French:
"Monsieur's name is --P
Eyes, replied rather mpatiently.
"'Then will monsieur wait an instant, till
undo the bars = A great drawing of chain
and bolts on the inside followed her speech
and little gate, three quarters of q man
height, was opened in the massive and imuo
Il. L Il III.