The Times

THE JOYS OF XMAS TIDE

Street Scenes of the Night Before the Holiday.

A JOSTLING, MERRY THRONG

The Shops Crowded to Overflowing—
An Unprecedented Volume of Presents
Sent Through the Mails—Tons
of Gifts Went by Express—Trains
Brought Glad, Jolly Homecomers.

Ye young manne looks ye awful lorn.
Ye shoppers push and crowd.
Ye night is bright until ye moon,
Ye matter is full proud.
Ye bundled manne is all ye style.
And all ye town doth gladly smile,
Ye Xmas Eve.

A very dirty young gentleman of the
once tender age of ten stood upon the
street curb last night. With fine sar-
casm he called attention to his wares,
which consisted of a number of pack-
ages containing little wooden figures.
At his feet a pair of little figures danced
and wrestled in response to the vigor-
ous manipulation of a string by the
young gentleman's confederate, who
was also of tender years and very black.
"Come on!" cried the young gentle-
man.
"'Ere's your little dancing
ducko's. Something nice for the chil-
dren.
'Ere's what the kids wants all
you Santa Clauses to put in their stock-
ings. Come on now. Only five cents."

One Lonely Agnostic.

Poor Santa Claus! That this young
iconoclast should deny him upon the
very eve of his advent was bitter, but
this was but one agnostic in a city of
believers, and it was but meet that the
young gentleman did a very slender
business.

True is it that the spirit of Christ-
mas was rife last night, and that the
old, old day becomes more and more a
part of life was evidenced by the in-
creased enthusiasm, the increased piles
of presents, and the overflow of joy.

A great gray mass of pushing, rush-
ing humanity. A long, long line of
green-lit streets and brilliant windows.
A great sound of mingled chatting.
laughter and the blare of horns, and a
strange rustling passage of laden citi-
zenry. This was Washington last night.

One hundred thousand kindred souls
smiled in the joy of making others hap-
py, and the lone soul who displayed no
bundles was indeed an outcast on this
eve of mankind's greatest festival. The
well-groomed lady of means smiled as
she jostled with the ancient, decrepit,
ragged, negro mammy, for both were
bent upon the greatest of errands, that
of giving that others might be glad of
heart.

A Vivid Contrast.

The lady carried costly packages and
thought of the glad surprises in a hand-
some home. The old negro mammy was
flushed with excitement over the pur-
chase of a small, humble, 5-cent dolly.
for she knew how the little black tot
at home would scream with delight that
Santa Claus should have remembered
her so stealthily.

And so it went on. Other festivals
and other nights bring thoughts and
cares of self, but last night all was for
some other. The stores were writhing
masses of shoppers, and a larger busi-
ness than ever before was shown when
the shops closed and the tired clerks
were given glad liberty until Monday.

The Old, Old Story.

And only when the hour grew late the
crowds began to thin out. Smiling
paters, loaded to the hat brims with
strange packages, hied themselves
gladly toward home, where they sneaked
in by rear doors while the dear little
mothers bustled about enticing the chil-
dren to go to bed. How these little
mothers bullied and entreated is an old,
old story to every man, and it will be
remembered that only the threat of in-
cur ring the wrath of Santa Claus effect-
ed an evacuation of the room wherein
the old saint was supposed to make his
appearance, via the latrobe or cook
stove.

Then the long, sleepless hours. The
sudden drowsiness and sleep.
The
awakening in the ghostly dawn-dark
and the grand finale as the glad results
of the visit of old Santa are discover-
ed. This has all been repeated for cen-
turies; it was repeated last night, and
will be repeated so long as there are
children and so long as childhood is
made beautiful by faith.

Then, too, there was a drop of misery
in the cup brimming with joy. The
blind, the halt, the paralyzed, made
doleful sounds, and the vagrant haunt-
ed the dark streets in a desperate en-
deavor to beg the price of food and
lodging or—even if it were drink. this
was Christmas, and Christmas comes
but once a year.

Unprecedented Business.

The postoffice was the Mecca of thou-
sands every hour, and the volume of
Christmas mail was much larger yester-
day than ever before at this season.
The express companies also state that
several tons more of Christmas matter
passed through their hands than in any
previous year at this time.

The hotels were glad with bunting