old Gold City Methodist church. Snow was on the ground, and
sleigh bells rang through the air. All day long the streets had been
reverberating with that essential of a California Christmas, the
fire-cracker. As the preacher came over from Hartsville, the service
was in the evening.

The old building looked really fine in its new dress of holly berries,
mistletoe and cedar. Across the front was hung in big red and white
letters, "Unto us a Child is Born." Over the organ was suspended a
large gilt star.

The place was crowded that night. The double fact that it was
Christmas, and that the camp-meeting converts would be baptized,
brought everybody out.

"Joy to the world, the Lord is come!"

sang the choir as Job, dressed in a neat new suit of gray and "store"
shirt, entered the church, making a way for Andy Malden, who, for the
first time in untold years, had crossed the threshold of the
meeting-house. The arrival, a few minutes before, of Slim Jim the
gambler, who hung around the Monte Carlo, and Col. Dick, its
proprietor, had not attracted so much attention as the entrance of
"Jedge Malden," as the politicians called him who sought his political
influence.

The preacher, as he looked down on that audience, was amazed. He had
seen no such scene in this old church since, with faint heart, he had
first stood in its plain pulpit as pastor. The walls were lined with
all the representative characters of the town, good and bad, rich and
poor; merchants, bar-keepers, politicians and miners. In the center
the old-time church-goers sat. Up the front, filling every inch of
space, the starched and well-washed youngsters wriggled and grinned
and sang without fear, as hymn after hymn was announced.

All soon caught the spirit of the hour, and a general feeling of
good-nature settled down on all. In fact, the place fairly trembled
with good-will, as a class of boys marched to the platform and sang:

"The Christmas bells are ringing over land and sea,
The winter winds are bringing their merry notes to me,"

and the wee tots involuntarily turned to the rear as they ended with
almost a yell:

"Then shout, boys, shout!
Shout with all your might;
For Merry Christmas's at the door,
He's coming here to-night!"

On the programme went--recitations, songs, choruses, following close
after one another. A fairy-like girl, with all childhood's innocence,
told anew the old story of Bethlehem and the C