Her black dress and veil proclaim that she is a widow. One year ago the strong arm upon which she leaned with such love and security was her pride and joy. Tonight, beneath the sod of the churchyard, it is turning back to dust. And yet, she is not altogether desolate. She has sweet memories of her loved one to sustain her; and besides that, she is holding to the arm of the man she is engaged to marry when her time of mourning is up, and she is out selecting an engagement ring. * * * * * A policeman lurks in the shadow of an awning with his club in his hand ready to strike. Two doors away there lives an alderman who voted against his being put on the force. It will not be long before the alderman's little boy will come out on the sidewalk and shoot off a Roman candle, and then the policeman will strike; a city ordinance will be carried out, and a little boy carried in. * * * * * A man steps up to a salesman in a fancy goods store. "I want to get something," he says, "for my wife's mother. I think--" "James," calls the salesman, "show this gentleman the 5-cent counter." Merchants who make a study of their customers are quick to know what they want. A man who is unmistakably a clergyman goes into a grocery store that is next door to a saloon. The salesman attends upon him. He buys 10 cents worth of minced meat for pies, and then lingers, clearing his throat. "Anything else?" asks the salesman. The clerical-looking man fumbles with his white cambric tie, and says: "Tomorrow will be Christmas, you know day of holy thoughts--peace on earth, and--and--and--our hearts should carol forth praises however, we must dine--er--er--mince pie, you know; the little ones in the family enjoy it--have the meat here--thought, perhaps--something to flavor--just a drop of--" "Here, Jimmy," yells the salesman, "go in next door and get this gent a pint of whisky." * * * * * Christmas brings pleasure to many; it brightens some lives that hardly ever know sunshine; it is abused by too many and made a season of revelry and sin; but to the little ones it is a joy forever, so let the tin horns blow and the red drums rattle, for those restless little feet and those grimy little hands come first in the making up of Heaven's kingdom. Merry Christmas to all. (_Houston Daily Post_, Wednesday morning, December 25, 1895.) New Year's Eve and How It Came to Houston Sketched at Random as the Old Year Passed We that would properly welcome the new year should view it with the eye of an optimist, and sing its praises with the coated tongue of a penitent. We should dismiss from our hearts the cold precept that history repeats itself, and strive to believe that the deficiencies of the day will be supplied by the morrow. Since fancy whispers to us that at the stroke of midnight the old order will change, yielding to the new, let us put aside, if possible, all knowledge to the contrary and revel in the fairy tale told by the merry bells.