It was Christmas Eve and the frost fairies were busy getting ready
for Christmas Day. First of all they spread the loveliest white snow
carpet over the rough, bare ground; then they hung the bushes and
trees with icicles that flashed like diamonds in the moonlight. Later
on, they planned to draw beautiful frost pictures on the window panes,
to surprise the little children in the morning.
The stars shone brightly and the moon sent floods of light in every
nook and corner. How could any one think of sleeping when there was
such a glory outside!
Jessie and Fred had gone to bed very early so they might be the first
to shout "Merry Christmas!" but their eyes would not stay shut.
"Oh dear! it must be 'most morning," said Fred; "let us creep softly
down stairs and maybe we'll catch Santa Claus before he rides off."
Hand in hand they tiptoed to the dining-room and peeped out the big
window;--surely, surely, that was something climbing up the roof of
cousin Nellie's house; it must be old Santa. Fred gave a chuckle of
delight; to be sure the reindeer were very queer looking objects, and
the sleigh such a funny shape, but the children were satisfied.
The old fir tree, whose high branches almost touched the roof,
knew all about those shadows, but it was so old no one could ever
understand a word of the many tales it told.
"There's something scratching on the door," whispered Jessie; but
it was only a mouse, who had sniffed the delightful odors of the
Christmas goodies and was trying his best to find a way into the
pantry and test them with his sharp teeth.
"Come," said Jessie, "we'll turn to icicles if we stay here much,
longer"; so up-stairs they quickly scampered.
Papa had been to town on an errand, so it was quite late when he came
home. As he was hunting in his pockets for his key, he heard a pitiful
cry, and looking down he saw a big, white cat carrying a tiny kitten
in her mouth.
"Poor thing," said papa, "you shall come inside till morning."
Santa Claus had been there with the nicest wagon for Fred and a warm,
seal-skin cap that lay right in the middle of it. When papa left the
room, puss and her kitty were curled up comfortably on the rug singing
their sleepy song.
The sun was shining brightly in the dining-room window when Jessie and
Fred made their appearance; then Fred just laughed with delight, for
right in the crown of his new cap lay the cutest white kitten, with
big, blue eyes and wee pink nose, while standins close by as if to
guard her darling from danger, was good old mother puss.
"I never had a live Christmas present before," said Fred, "now I know
Santa Claus read the letter I threw up the chimney because I told him
to bring me a kitten and here it is."
Papa smiled and looked at mamma, and then everybody said "Merry
Christmas" at once.
OLIVER HERFOLD.
We are a band of carollers,
We march through frost and snow,
But care not for the weather
As on our way we go.
At every hall or cottage
That stands upon our way,
We stop to give the people
Best wishes for the day.
We pray a merry Christmas,
Made bright by Christmas cheer,
With peace, and hope, and gladness
And all they may hold dear.
And for all those that happen
To pass us on our way
We have a smile, and wish them
A merry Christmas-day.
L.A. FRANCE
On Christmas day there is a great feast in Dublin. This, you know, is
the chief city of Ireland. The feast is made for the children. There
are in that city a great many little ones who are very very poor.
There are kind people there, also, who look after these poor children.
They have what they call "ragged schools," where many of them are
taught to read, and to sew, and other useful things.
Dr. Nelaton is a famous minister in Dublin, and every year he, with
other good people, gets up this great feast for the children.
About eight hundred of them came last year. Some of these were only
half-clad, and all were very ragged. They were seated at long, narrow
tables, which were covered with a white cloth, The children from the
ragged schools wore aprons in bright colors, to hide their rags. Each
school had a color of its own. These aprons were only lent them for
the day, and the children felt very fine in them. But there were two
long rows without any aprons. These were little ones who had been
picked up along the streets. Each ragged scholar had permission to
bring all the children he could find. And, oh, how ragged and dirty
these two rows were!
But they brightened up, just like the children with aprons, when they
saw the feast. A huge mug of steaming tea and an immense bun to each
child! Rarely did they have such a treat as this. And how they did
eat! Each child had all he wanted. It would have done you good to see
their poor, pinched faces beam with delight. During the meal a large
throng of orphan children in the gallery sung some sweet songs. Then,
after the feast, there were small gifts, and little speeches and
prayers, and more songs. The little ragged ones seemed like new beings
in this atmosphere of love. Such a glad day as that Christmas was a
rare event in their sad lives. Children who live in happy homes know
little about the sufferings of the poor. Perhaps, if they knew more,
such little ones would try harder, by gifts and kind acts, to carry
sunshine to sorrowful hearts.
Christmas was coming. Jamie and Ted had already begun to write long
letters to Santa Claus. But one thing was rather queer: both boys
asked him for the same things.
Each little letter ended with,--"Just like Brother's."
They agreed to ask for only one sled. They would rather ride together.
Now was not this very sweet and loving?
One night, after they had gone to bed, Jamie said, "Ted, if Santa
Claus brings us skates, Jim can teach us how to use them."
"Oh, yes; and if we get fur mittens it will be such fun to make a
fort."
"And a snow-man," Jamie answered.
Ted went oh: "I'll always ride the sled down a hill, and you can ride
it up."
"I guess you won't," Jamie said, speaking loudly.
"Why not?" Ted asked.
"Because it'll be as much my sled as yours."
"Yes, of course," Ted replied; "but I chose it first."
"You are a selfish boy!" said Jamie.
"Well, then, so are you!"
"I don't care. I won't sleep with you. I'll ask mamma if I can't have
the first pick; I'm the biggest," roared Jamie, bounding out of bed.
"You're a big, cross cry baby," Ted shouted, jumping out after his
brother.
Away ran Jamie to mamma, with Ted at his heels. Both were angry. Both
talked at once.
Mamma was grieved. Her dear little boys had never been so unkind to
each other before. She kissed their hot faces and stroked their pretty
hair. She told them how their naughty words hurt her. She showed them
how displeased God was to see two little brothers quarrel.
That night they went to sleep in each other's arms, full of love and
forgiveness.
Christmas morning came at last. Very early the boys crept out of bed,
just to "feel" their stockings.
Papa heard them, and, remembering that he was once a boy lighted the
gas.
Each little red stocking was full from toe to top. Boxes and paper
parcels were piled around them. Such shouting! Such a good time! It
seemed as if all their letters had been answered.
Suddenly Jamie cried, "O Ted, here's a letter!"
They put their little heads together, and with papa's help spelled
this out:--
"My dear Boys,--No sled this year. It quarrelled so I was
afraid to bring it. I dropped it off the load about a week
ago. Get ready for it next year. Merry Christmas! SANTA
CLAUS."
"Tell us a story, nursie; please do", begged two little golden-haired
girls, as they snuggled on the soft rug before the fire. "Did you ever
have just what you wished for at Christmas, when you were a little
girl?"
"Yes, I did once. I was the oldest, and had two brothers and three
little sisters. We did not have a beautiful home like this. We lived
in a little cottage. It was pretty, though, in the summer time, when
the roses and pinks were in bloom. My father was dead, and mother
worked for the rich people around the village. There was plenty to do
about holiday times.
"It was the day before Christmas. Mother was at the house of a
very rich and kind lady. She was going to have a grand party in the
evening.
"Mother told me, when she went away, to mind the children, and perhaps
I might have a nice Christmas present. I knew we should have plenty of
candy and cake, and other nice things, from Mrs. Reid's. We often had
pretty clothes, too, that Mamie and Robbie Reid had outgrown.
"I had been wishing for a muff; but I knew Mother could not afford to
buy me one. It was hard enough even to get shoes for us all. I thought
I should have to be satisfied with mittens.
"It was quite dark, and we all sat around the fire. I had rocked Tilly
to sleep and put her to bed. Willie and Joe were playing cat's-cradle.
The rest of us were making believe we were rich and could have all we
wanted for Christmas.
"All at once there was a heavy step on the porch, and a knock at the
door. I opened it, with Margie and Amy clinging to my dress. A boy
shoved a big box into the room and shouted, 'A merry Christmas to
you!' He then ran out at the gate.
"The box had all our names on the cover, and the children were wild to
see what was inside.
"'Wait till mother comes,' I said; and pretty soon we heard her at
the gate, She seemed surprised, and said Santa Claus had remembered us
early.
"Mother advised us to go to bed and wait until morning to see our
presents. It was pretty hard; but we had some oranges and candy, and I
put the boys to bed. Margie and I wondered and guessed what was in the
box; but at last we fell asleep.
"You may be sure we were up early in the morning. There were dolls and
toys for the little ones, with hoods and mittens, and for me a lovely
squirrel muff, lined with blue, with a soft little boa for my neck. I
was a happy girl that Christmas, I can tell you.
"And now, my dears, you must go to bed, or Santa Claus will not be
able to find your stockings."
"Oh! I hope I shall have what I want to-morrow!" said Gracie.
"And I, too," echoed Helen. "And your story was very nice, nursie."
"Good-night, and call us early in the morning."
Lura's Uncle Roy is in Japan. He used to take Christmas dinner at
Lura's home. Now he could only write her papa to say a box of gifts
had been sent, and one was for his little girl.
The little girl clapped her hands, crying, "Oh, mamma! don't you think
it is the chain and locket dear uncle said he would sometime give me?"
"No," replied her papa, reading on. "Your uncle says it is a turkey
for one."
"But we do not need turkeys from Japan," remarked the little daughter,
soberly.
Her papa smiled, and handed the open letter to her mamma.
"Read it aloud, every bit," begged Lura, seeing her mamma was smiling,
too.
But her mamma folded the letter and said nothing.
On Christmas eve the box, which had just arrived, was opened, and
every one in the house was made glad with a present. Lura's was a
papier-mache turkey, nearly as large as the one brought home at the
same time by the market-boy.
Next morning, while the fowl in the kitchen was being roasted, Lura
placed hers before a window and watched people admire it as they
passed. All its imitation feathers, and even more its red wattles,
seemed to wish every man and woman, boy and girl, a Merry Christmas.
Lura had not spoken of the jewelry since her uncle's letter was read.
It is not nice for one who receives a gift to wish it was different.
Lura was not that kind of a child.
When dinner was nearly over, her papa said to her, "My dear, you have
had as much of my turkey as you wanted; if you please, I will now try
some of yours."
"Mine is what Uncle Roy calls a turkey for one," laughed Lura. She
turned in her chair towards where her bird had been strutting on the
window-sill, and added, in surprise, "Why, what has become of him?"
At that moment the servant brought in a huge platter. When room had
been made for it on the table it was set down in front of Lura's papa,
and on the dish was her turkey.
"Oh, what fun!" gayly exclaimed the child. "Did uncle tell you to
pretend to serve it?"
"I have not finished what he directs me to do," her papa said, with a
flourish of the carving-knife.
"But, papa--oh, please!" Her hand was on his arm. "You would not spoil
my beautiful bird from Japan!
A hidden spring was touched with the point of the knife. The breast
opened, and disclosed the fowl filled with choice toys and other
things. The first taken out was a tiny box; inside was a gold chain
and locket; the locket held Uncle Roy's picture.
It was a turkey for one,--for only Uncle Roy's niece. But all the
family shared the amusement.
LAVINIA S. GOODWIN.
Do you know, when we are having such good times at Christmas, what
sweet music they have in Norway, that cold country across the sea? One
day in the year the simple peasants who live there make the birds very
happy, so that they sing, of their own free-will, a glad, joyous carol
on Christmas morning.
And this is why they sing on that morning more than on any
other. After the birds have found shelter from the north wind on
Christmas-eve, and the night is still and bright with stars, or even
if the storm be ever so severe, the good people bring out sheaves of
corn and wheat from their storehouses. Tying them on slender poles,
they raise them from every spire, barn, gatepost, and gable; then,
when the Christmas sun rises over the hills, every spire and gable
bursts forth into joyous song.
You can well believe that these songs of the birds make the people
of Norway very happy. They echo, with all their hearts, their living,
grateful anthem, "Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace,
good-will to men!"
MRS. G. HALL.