The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1885-01-08
CHRISTMAS CHEER.
The Happiness of the Arp Family.
atlanta Constitution.

atlanta Constitution.
| 1t is the same old story, but it is gooc
one. We have passed another milestone
in the Journey of life. Christmas ha:
come again and now it has gone. How
short these miles are getting as we neal
the end. They used to be long, very
long, to me. How that, wonder They
say that time passes swiftly when we are
happy, and it is so, | know, for an hour
or day. but it is not so for month or q
year. The flight of years is measured by
our age. Childhood is happy and bright
and to happy children the sun "dces new
er rise wink too soon, nor bring toe
long day." but the years seem almost
au age-an age of pleasure. Time shrinks
up as we grow old. Everything shrinks.
The trees are not so tall nor the hills SO
long and steep. The rivers are not SO
wide and the creeks have become branch
es. Indeed, the great big world that
used to strain our comprehension and
excite our wonder is not much of planet
now.
On Christmas night, that is the night
before Christmas, Mrs. Arp and took
our patriarchal stations in the big arm
chairs by the parlor mantel, and with
patient and serene dignity prepared our
selves for coming events. We let the
young folks manage these things now and
they give US no trouble. There was q
goodly gathering of children and grand
children and kith and kindred, and all of
them were arrayed in Sunday garments,
and the little chaps faces fairly shined
they were so clean, and their fond moth
ers looked upon them with visible joy
and maternal pride, when all of q
sudden our blue-eyed daugh;ed opened
vide the door and exclaimed: "Old
Santa Claus has come" Merciful good.
ness, whata fuss Itlooks like cyclone
had struck in these parts and was ex.
ploding right here in the parlor. | can't
here anything for the tumultuous confu-
sion of infantile voices, and thegrown up
ones are no better. Old Santa Claus has
Just come into the room and emptied his
basket, and now the little tin horns are
footing and the harps are blowing and
the boys are popping paper caps in little
iron heads fastened to string, 1t is all
mixed up with ooh my, oh isent it lovely,
bless his heart. Look at my slippers
we'll declare" and the women folks are
showing their handkerchiefs and shawls
and perfumery, and soforth, and the men
and boys are taking on over their cuff
buttons and handkerchiefs and crayats,
and one boy has got new gun, and
another fine book, and another some.
thing else, and there are 6recrackers by
the peck and ever and anon there is q
grand racket in the front yard, for they
are popping them in barrel, and here
they 90 and there they 60, all on the
tramp and everybody talking at once, and
l think I hear baby squalling and a
wounded boy bawling, and now of
course Mrs. Arp is calling, and the jun.
BILE is appalling, and amidst it all l am
still calm and serene, for Christmas comes
but once year, and let's have fun aud
frolic and good cheer.
But by and by the program changes
and the plays begin and big and little run
round the row of chairs to see who will
be left out when the music stops. 1t
makes the old house quake when they all
throw themselves into their seats tumul.
tuously, andsever and anon hear an old
chair crack and now and then little
chap gets run over and retires with a
groan, but it is all right reckon for it is
Christmas, and it is free for all. They
iammed me up in corner with my little
table and all can do is to look on and
feast my soul upon their happiness for it
all carries me back to the days of my
gushing childhood when l never got tired
of such frolics and loved the nights that
brought them, when hide and seek was q
glorious Joy and the little Jack Maringall
drama of delight. Oh would were a
boy again just now, not for life, but just
now. would like to feel as I used to
feel when all was bright and gushing and
exultant, and there was no apprehension
of trouble or grief or dark shadows to
come. Such thoughts do come and so in
spite of us and they mellow US down and
prepare us to let go our hold upon earth
when our time comes. thank the good
Lord for so gently tempering our life that
we become reconciled to the change in
due time. When we are young and
bouyant it is all right We should ex.
claim
'The world is very lovely oh my God,
thank Thee that live.
But when we get old it is just as sweet
to sing:
IT would not live always,
I ask not to stay"
And now the music has begun and I
am called to help for they are getting up
family dance and Mrs. Arp and al
ways make the music. They let US do
that-we are still useful and it would be
right hard for these young folks to get
along without us. Mrs. Arp's fingers are
still nimble and as gracefully touch the
ivory keys, as when first worshipped at
her shrine thirty six years ago and went
into raptures over Kathleen Mayourneen
and her beautiful hazel eyes-not Kath.
leen's eyes, but Mrs. Arp's. And she
Just nearly died over my soft dove like
notes on the flute as I carroled "The
Sweet Vale of Avoca," or "The Irish
Emigrant's Lament"
But now when the young folks wish to
dance, we cheerfully respond and play a
medley that has neither beginning nor
ending, for it just goes ou and on and
round and round, and is a fantastic fan
tastia that is an original mixture of Dix.
lie and Run Niger Run, and the Bob.
tail Nag end Come Out Of the Wilder:
ness and the Arkansaw Traveller and
Highland Fling, up in Balloon Boys,
and some others of like life and key and
measure. Oh, we make music we do,
and the children always cheer US and
thank us so rapturously that we try it
again when they call us and get ready
for the next set.
And now the programme changes
again and we have music with song.
Younger fingers touch the keys and the
family choir gets round the piano and
cheers the wee small hours with melody.
The old standard songs are still welcome