A Christmas Sleigh-ride

Mr. Frank B. ötockton was out late one Christmas ove when he feil in with an oíd gentleman who invited him into liis sleigh. What then happcned he tells in Scribner's Monthly: The oíd gentleman pulled a bag from behind the seat, and, taking it on bis lap, proceeded to show me somo of the contente. " They secm to be old-fashionedtoys," I reuiarked. " Yes," he aaid with a sigh, " thowe new-fangled affairs are of no service to me. You couldn't get a paddle-wheel steamer, with a real enginc, into a common stocking. You'd ruin the vessel i or the stocking. And there's scarcoJy p girl in tho land who wears a stocking j large onongh to hold a doll's trunk, furnished with silk dresses, bonnets, and ! all tho uecessary underclothes. Ño, I have to confine myself to such things as bear a proper proportion to the feet and legs of children. There is ono thing," said he, turning apon me his still-jolly oíd countenance, "that has had more influence than auything else in causing the general indifference with which I am now regard cd." " And what's that? " I asked. " Furnace-heat," he said. " What sensible person, oíd or youug, could expect a fellow with a bag on his back to come down a flue and through an iron register? It would le absurd to try to niake even a child bolieve that anything of the sort is possible." And then he put away his bag and took the lines again, with a look of resignation. " It's all wrong," said I, " all wrong ! The oíd way was the best." " No doubt of it," said he, " but what can you expect? Everything old is changing, changing, changing." "How about old furniture?" I asked. "That seems popular enougli." " That's changing, too," he answered. " Coming down out of tlie garret into the parlor. As to people in general, I scarcely know what to make of them. There will soon be no such thing as Christmas. Hereabouts it's losing ground every year, and New Year's day is taking its place. The jolly old Christmas festivities are almost forgotten, and the young men are satisfied to trot around on New Year's day and nibble cake and drink wine at a hundred different places, while the women sit and smile at a hundred different men - some frionds and some strangers - till the ! day's dono. What's all that to the grand old times we used to have ? But, as I said bef ore, what can you expect? There are men now who go so far as to assert that matter contains within itself the promise and potèncy of every form of life ! Would you expect the cliildrcn of such parents to hang up their stockings?" "Xo," I said. "I don't think I would." " " Of course not," said he, with considerable asperity for so jovial an old fellow ; " it would be entirely out of keeping. Go 'long, there! Get up, Vixen ! Why, I teil you, sir, there are not half-a-dozen houses in that town behind us that I could get into. If you do manage to squeeze down a cnimney, you're pretty sure to land in a kitchcn fire, or in a cellar f urnace ! I hate furnaees ! . They're the invention of the devil, sir, and pure air and pure Christianity are dying out with open fire-places. Go 'long, you Blixen! I expect the next thing will be that the children will leave off their stockings altogether." I saw that he was getting excited, and I did not wish to say anything that wonld further irrítate him, so I simply remarked that he seemed to be driving faster. " Yes," said he, whipping his reindeer into a smart gallop. " I'm going to a fine old farm-house that stands yonder in the valley. There the people know how to live. There are great open fireplaces with grand old wood-fires in them - shining brass andirons, big backlogs and a merry crackling blazo. Hi there, Yixen ! There the children have been playing wild rollicking games all this eveñing, and there they have hung their stockings by tho big lire-place in the kitchen ! Go 'long there, hi ! hi !" The old man was now in a glow of delight. He cracked his whip and shouted to his reindeer. The gallant creatures seemed to catch his enthusiasm, and they dashod over the snow at the top of their speed. " Isn't this - rather - rapid? " said I, as I clung fast to the side of the sleigh. " Oh, yes! " he shouted, " this is the right sort of driving. This is the way people go when they want to get there. Hi! hi! A way with yon, yon rascáis! There's the house, right before us ! " " Are you going to drive - on top ? " said I, almost breathless from the rapidity of the ride. " Certainly ! " he cried. " But you needn'tbe af raid. I just tak e that shed firt-t, then up to the roof of the kitchen, and theu, clip ! and away to the top of the house ! " At this he rose, and stood up in the sleigh, cracking his whip and shouting to his steeds at the top of his voice. The reindeer dashed forward like mad- they reached the shed, they bounded up, the runners struck the eaves with a bang, and out I shot into a snow-bank.