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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pearl Story Book, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Pearl Story Book
+ Stories and Legends of Winter, Christmas, and New Year's Day
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: December 6, 2010 [EBook #34571]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PEARL STORY BOOK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ THE
+ PEARL STORY BOOK
+
+ _Stories and Legends of
+ Winter, Christmas, and New Year's Day_
+
+
+ COMPILED BY
+
+ ADA M. SKINNER
+ AND
+ ELEANOR L. SKINNER
+
+ _Editors of "The Emerald Story Book,"
+ "The Topaz Story Book," "The Turquoise
+ Story Book," "Children's Plays," Etc._
+
+
+ [Decoration]
+
+
+ NEW YORK
+ DUFFIELD & COMPANY
+ 1919
+
+
+ Copyright 1910 by
+ DUFFIELD & COMPANY
+
+
+ [Illustration: {Three shepherds look up at the sky, amazed}
+ _Drawn by Maxfield Parrish_]
+
+
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
+
+
+The editors' thanks are due to the following authors and publishers
+for the use of valuable material in this book:
+
+To T. C. and E. C. Jack of Edinburgh for permission to use "Holly" and
+the legend of the "Yew" from "Shown to the Children Series"; to
+Frederick A. Stokes Company for "The Voice of the Pine Trees," from
+"Myths and Legends of Japan"; to the Wessels Company for "The First
+Winter" by W. W. Canfield; to Julia Dodge for permission to use two
+poems by Mary Mapes Dodge; to the Christian Herald for a poem by
+Margaret E. Sangster, Jr.; to Lothrop, Lee and Shepherd for "The Pine
+and the Flax" by Albrekt Segerstedt; to the Outlook Company for a
+story by Mine Morishima; to the Independent for the poem "Who Loves
+the Trees Best?"; to Laura E. Richards for her story "Christmas
+Gifts"; to George Putnam and Sons for "Silver Bells" by Hamish Hendry,
+and "The Happy Prince" by Oscar Wilde; to the Churchman for a story
+by John P. Peters; to Dodd, Mead and Company for the story "Holly"
+from the "Story Hour"; and "Prince Winter" from "The Four Seasons" by
+Carl Ewald; to George Jacobs for "A Legend of St. Nicholas" from "In
+God's Garden" by Amy Steedman; to A. Flanagan Company for "The New
+Year's Bell" from "Christ-Child Tales" by Andrea Hofer Proudfoot; to
+Jay T. Stocking and the Pilgrims Press for "The Snowball That Didn't
+Melt" from "The Golden Goblet"; to the New York State Museum for
+permission to use two stories contained in Bulletin 125, by Mrs. H. M.
+Converse; to Small, Maynard and Company for "A Song of the Snow," from
+"Complete Works of Madison Cawein."
+
+The selections from James Russell Lowell, Edna Dean Proctor, Celia
+Thaxter, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edith M. Thomas, Margaret Deland, John
+Townsend Trowbridge, and Frank Dempster Sherman are used by permission
+of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin Company,
+authorized publishers of their works.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ INTRODUCTION
+
+
+ WINTER STORIES AND LEGENDS
+
+ PAGE
+
+ Winter (selection) _James Russell Lowell_ 2
+
+ The Ice King (Indian legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 3
+
+ A Song of the Snow (poem) _Madison Cawein_ 9
+
+ King Frost and King Winter
+ (adapted) _Margaret T. Canby_ 11
+
+ The Snowstorm (poem) _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ 18
+
+ The First Winter (Iroquois
+ legend) _W. W. Canfield_ 20
+
+ Snow Song (poem) _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 24
+
+ The Snow Maiden (Russian
+ legend. Translated from
+ the French) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 25
+
+ The Frost King (poem) _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 30
+
+ King Winter's Harvest _Selected_ 32
+
+ Old King Winter (poem) _Anna E. Skinner_ 36
+
+ Sheltering Wings _Harriet Louise Jerome_ 37
+
+ Snowflakes (selection) _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 41
+
+ The Snow-Image _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 42
+
+
+ WINTER WOODS
+
+ The First Snow-Fall _James Russell Lowell_ 62
+
+ The Voice of the Pine Trees
+ (Japanese legend) _Frank Hadland Davis_ 63
+
+ The Pine Tree Maiden (Indian
+ legend) _Ada M. Skinner_ 68
+
+ The Holly _Janet Harvey Kelman_ 73
+
+ The Fable of the Three
+ Elms (poem) _Margaret E. Sangster, Jr._ 79
+
+ The Pine and the Willow _Mine Morishima_ 82
+
+ Why the Wild Rabbits Are
+ White in Winter
+ (Algonquin legend retold) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 86
+
+ The Yew _Janet Harvey Kelman_ 93
+
+ How the Pine Tree Did
+ Some Good _Samuel W. Duffield_ 95
+
+ A Wonderful Weaver (poem) _George Cooper_ 105
+
+ The Pine and the Flax _Albrekt Segerstedt_ 107
+
+ The Fir Tree (poem) _Edith M. Thomas_ 110
+
+ Why Bruin Has a Stumpy Tail
+ (Norwegian legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 111
+
+ Pines and Firs _Mrs. Dyson_ 116
+
+ Who Loves the Trees Best?
+ (poem) _Selected_ 131
+
+
+ CHRISTMAS EVERYWHERE
+
+ A Christmas Song _Phillips Brooks_ 134
+
+ The Shepherd Maiden's Gift
+ (Eastern legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 135
+
+ Christmas Gifts _Laura E. Richards_ 141
+
+ Silver Bells (poem) _Hamish Hendry_ 146
+
+ The Animals' Christmas Tree _John P. Peters_ 147
+
+ A Christmas Carol _Christina Rossetti_ 162
+
+ Holly _Ada M. Marzials_ 164
+
+ The Willow Man (poem) _Juliana Horatia Ewing_ 175
+
+ The Ivy Green (selection) _Charles Dickens_ 178
+
+ Legend of St. Nicholas _Amy Steedman_ 179
+
+ Christmas Bells (selection) _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 197
+
+ A Night With Santa Claus _Anna R. Annan_ 198
+
+ A Child's Thought About
+ Santa Claus (poem) _Sydney Dayre_ 208
+
+ Charity in a Cottage _Jean Ingelow_ 210
+
+ The Waits (poem) _Margaret Deland_ 223
+
+ Where Love Is There God
+ Is Also (adapted) _Leo Tolstoi_ 225
+
+ God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen _Dinah Mulock Craik_ 234
+
+
+ THE GLAD NEW YEAR
+
+ The Glad New Year (poem) _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 236
+
+ The Bad Little Goblin's
+ New Year _Mary Stewart_ 237
+
+ Selection _Robert Herrick_ 248
+
+ The Queen of the Year (poem) _Edna Dean Proctor_ 249
+
+ The New Year's Bell _Andrea Hofer Proudfoot_ 250
+
+ The New Year _Selected_ 256
+
+ The Child and the Year (poem) _Celia Thaxter_ 257
+
+ A Masque of the Days _Charles Lamb_ 258
+
+ Ring Out, Wild Bells (poem) _Alfred Tennyson_ 262
+
+
+ MIDWINTER
+
+ The Bells (selection) _Edgar Allen Poe_ 264
+
+ A January Thaw _Dallas Lore Sharp_ 265
+
+ The Snow Man _Hans Christian Andersen_ 276
+
+ The Happy Prince _Oscar Wilde_ 284
+
+ The Legend of King Wenceslaus
+ (adapted) _John Mason Neale_ 303
+
+ Midwinter (poem) _John Townsend Trowbridge_ 310
+
+
+ WHEN WINTER AND SPRING MET
+
+ Old Winter (poem) _Thomas Noel_ 314
+
+ The Snowball That Didn't Melt _Jay T. Stocking_ 315
+
+ Gau-wi-di-ne and Go-hay
+ (Iroquois legend retold) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 330
+
+ Naming the Winds (Indian
+ legend retold) _Ada M. Skinner_ 339
+
+ North Wind's Frolic
+ (translated) _Montgomery Maze_ 343
+
+ The Months: A Pageant
+ (adapted) _Christina Rossetti_ 346
+
+ Prince Winter _Carl Ewald_ 366
+
+ How Spring and Winter
+ Met (poem) _Edith M. Thomas_ 376
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+"Once upon a time," in the winter season suggests happy, young faces
+grouped about a blazing fire. A heavy snowstorm promises plenty of
+sport for tomorrow, but at present the cosiness indoors is very
+attractive, especially now that the evening story hour is at hand. And
+while the story-teller is slowly choosing his subjects he hears the
+children's impatient whispers of "The Snow Man," "Prince Winter," "The
+Legend of Holly," "The Animals' Christmas Tree."
+
+Silence! The story-teller turns his eyes from the glowing fire to the
+faces of his eager audience. He is ready to begin.
+
+Each season of the year opens a treasury of suggestion for stories. In
+the beauty and wonder of nature are excellent themes for tales which
+quicken children's interest in the promise of joyous springtime, in
+the rich pageantry of ripening summer, in the blessings of generous
+autumn, and in the merry cheer of grim old winter.
+
+The Pearl Story Book is the fourth volume in a series of nature books
+each of which emphasizes the interest and beauty characteristic of a
+particular season. The central theme of this volume is winter,
+"snow-wrapped and holly-decked."
+
+
+
+
+WINTER STORIES AND LEGENDS
+
+
+
+
+WINTER
+
+
+ Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak,
+ From the snow five thousand summers old;
+ On open wold and hill-top bleak
+ It had gathered all the cold,
+ And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek.
+ It carried a shiver everywhere
+ From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare;
+ The little brook heard it and built a roof
+ 'Neath which he could house him winter-proof;
+ All night by the white stars' frosty gleams
+ He groined his arches and matched his beams;
+ Slender and clear were his crystal spars
+ As the lashes of light that trim the stars:
+ He sculptured every summer delight
+ In his halls and chambers out of sight.
+
+ James Russell Lowell.
+
+
+
+
+THE ICE KING
+
+(Indian Legend)
+
+
+Once upon a time there was an Indian village built on the bank of a
+wide river. During the spring, summer, and autumn the people were very
+happy. There was plenty of fuel and game in the deep woods; the river
+afforded excellent fish. But the Indians dreaded the months when the
+Ice King reigned.
+
+One winter the weather was terribly cold and the people suffered
+severely. The Ice King called forth the keen wind from the northern
+sky, and piled the snowdrifts so high in the forests that it was most
+difficult to supply the wigwams with game. He covered the river with
+ice so thick that the Indians feared it would never melt.
+
+"When will the Ice King leave us?" they asked each other. "We shall
+all perish if he continues his cruel reign."
+
+At last signs of spring encouraged the stricken people. The great
+snowdrifts in the forests disappeared and the ice on the river broke
+into large pieces. All of these floated downstream except one huge
+cake which lodged on the bank very near the village. And when the
+Indians saw that the spring sunshine did not melt this great mass of
+ice they were puzzled and anxious.
+
+"It is the roof of the Ice King's lodge," they said. "We shall never
+enjoy warm weather while he dwells near us. Have we no brave who is
+willing to do battle with this winter tyrant?"
+
+At last, a courageous young hunter armed himself with a huge club and
+went forth to see if he could shatter the glittering frozen mass and
+rid the village of the giant who dwelt beneath it. With all his
+strength he struck the ice roof blow upon blow, crying out, "Begone, O
+cruel Ice King! Your time is past! Begone!"
+
+Finally, there was a deafening noise like the crashing of forest trees
+when the lightning strikes, and the huge ice cake split into several
+pieces.
+
+"Begone!" cried the young brave, as he struggled with each great lump
+of ice until he pushed it from the bank and tumbled it into the river
+below.
+
+And when the mighty task was finished the white figure of the Ice King
+stood before the Indian brave.
+
+"You have ruined my lodge," said the giant.
+
+"The winter season is past," answered the brave. "Begone!"
+
+"After several moons I shall return to stay," threatened the Ice King.
+Then he stalked away toward the North.
+
+The people were very happy when they knew that the young brave had
+conquered the giant; but their joy was somewhat dampened when they
+heard about the threatened return of the Ice King.
+
+"I shall prepare for his return and do battle with him again,"
+declared the Indian conqueror.
+
+This promise comforted the people somewhat, but still they thought of
+the coming winter with dread.
+
+During the autumn the hunter built near the river a strong wigwam and
+stored therein abundant fuel and dried game. He filled many bags made
+of skin, with oil, which he procured from the animals he killed. Also,
+he was well supplied with fur rugs, blankets, and warm clothes.
+
+At last the winter season came. The cold north wind blew unceasingly,
+the snow piled high around the wigwams; ice several feet thick covered
+the river.
+
+"The Ice King has come," said the Indians. "If he keeps his threat to
+stay among us we shall surely perish."
+
+One bitter cold day the young Indian who had prepared well for the
+severe weather sat in his wigwam near a blazing fire. Suddenly, a
+strong gust of wind tore aside the bear skin which protected the
+doorway and into the lodge stalked the Ice King. His freezing breath
+filled the place and dampened the fire. He took a seat opposite the
+Indian brave who said, "Welcome, Ice King."
+
+"I've come to stay," answered the giant.
+
+The Indian shivered with cold at the sudden change of temperature in
+his wigwam, but he rose and brought more logs to the fire. Also, he
+opened one of his bags of oil and poured the contents on the great
+pieces of wood. The flames soon caught the oil-soaked logs and a
+roaring fire crackled and blazed in the wigwam. More and more fuel the
+young brave piled on his fire until finally the frosty cold air was
+changed to summer heat.
+
+The Ice King shifted his seat away from the glowing fire. Farther and
+farther away he pushed until he sat with his back against the wall of
+the wigwam. As he moved he seemed to grow smaller and weaker. The icy
+feathers of his headgear drooped about his forehead and great drops of
+sweat covered his face. But still the Indian brave piled fuel on the
+blazing fire.
+
+"Spare me, O hunter," cried the Ice King.
+
+But to the words of the giant the young Indian was deaf. He opened
+another bag of oil and poured it on the logs.
+
+"Have mercy, I beg you!" pleaded the Ice King. He rose and staggered
+toward the door.
+
+"You have conquered me," he said in a weak voice. "I will depart.
+Twice you have won a victory over me. I give up my hope of reigning
+continually among your people. My season shall last during three
+moons, only."
+
+He staggered out of the wigwam and stalked wearily away. Since that
+day the giant Ice King has not tried to reign throughout the year.
+
+
+
+
+A SONG OF THE SNOW
+
+
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter dawn,
+ When the air is still and the clouds are gone,
+ And the snow lies deep on hill and lawn,
+ And the old clock ticks, "'Tis time! 'Tis time!"
+ And the household rises with many a yawn
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter dawn!
+ Sing, Ho!
+
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter sky
+ When the last star closes its icy eye
+ And deep in the road the snow-drifts lie,
+ And the old clock ticks, "'Tis late! 'Tis late!"
+ And the flame on the hearth leaps red--leaps high
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter sky!
+ Sing, Ho!
+
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter morn
+ When the snow makes ghostly the wayside thorn,
+ And hills of pearl are the shocks of corn,
+ And the old clock ticks, "Tick-tock; tick-tock;"
+ And the goodman bustles about the barn
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter morn!
+ Sing, Ho!
+
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter day,
+ When ermine capped are the stocks of hay,
+ And the wood-smoke pillars the air with gray,
+ And the old clock ticks, "To work! To work!"
+ And the goodwife sings as she churns away
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter day!
+ Sing, Ho!
+
+ Madison Cawein.
+
+
+
+
+KING FROST AND KING WINTER
+
+Margaret T. Canby
+
+
+King Winter lives in a very strong palace near the cold North Pole; it
+is built of great blocks of thick ice, and all around it stand high,
+pointed icebergs, and cross, white bears keep guard at the gate. He
+has many little fairy servants to do his bidding and they are like
+their master, cross and spiteful, and seldom do any kind actions, so
+that few are found who love them. King Winter is rich and powerful,
+but he keeps all his wealth so tightly locked up that it does no one
+any good; and what is worse, he often tries to get the treasures of
+other persons, to add to the store in his money chests.
+
+One day when this selfish old king was walking through the woods he
+saw the leaves thickly covered with gold and precious stones, which
+had been spread upon them by King Frost, to make the trees more
+beautiful and give pleasure to all who saw them. But looking at them
+did not satisfy King Winter; he wanted to have the gold for his own,
+and he made up his mind to get it, somehow. Back he went to his palace
+to call his servants home to do this new work. As soon as he reached
+the gate, he blew a loud, shrill note on his horn and in a few minutes
+his odd little fairies came flying in at the windows and doors and
+stood before him quietly waiting their commands. The king ordered some
+to go out into the forest, at nightfall, armed with canes and clubs,
+and beat off all the gold and ruby leaves; and he told others to take
+strong bags, and gather up all the treasure, and bring it to him.
+
+"If that silly King Frost does not think any more of gold and precious
+stones than to waste them on trees I shall teach him better," said the
+old king.
+
+The fairies promised to obey him, and as soon as night came, off they
+rushed to the forest, and a terrible noise they made, flying from one
+beautiful tree to another, banging and beating the leaves off.
+Branches were cracking and falling on all sides, and leaves were
+flying about, while the sound of shouting and laughing and screaming
+told all who heard it that the spiteful winter fairies were at some
+mischief. The other fairies followed, and gathered up the poor
+shattered leaves, cramming them into the great bags they had brought,
+and taking them to King Winter's palace as fast as they were filled.
+
+This work was kept up nearly all night and when morning came, the
+magic forest of many-colored leaves was changed into a dreary place.
+Bare trees stretched their long brown branches around and seemed to
+shiver in the cold wind and to sigh for the beautiful dress of shining
+leaves so rudely torn from them.
+
+King Winter was very much pleased, as one great sack after another was
+tugged in by the fairies and when morning came he called his servants
+together and said, "You have all worked well, my fairies, and have
+saved much treasure from being wasted; I will now open these bags and
+show you the gold. Each of you shall have a share."
+
+The king took up the sack nearest to him, their surprise, when out
+rushed a great heap of brown leaves, which flew all over the floor and
+half choked them with dust! When the king saw this he growled with
+rage and looked at the fairies with a dark frown on his face. They
+begged him to look at the next sack, but when he did so, it, too, was
+full of brown leaves, instead of gold and precious stones. This was
+too much for King Winter's patience. He tossed the bags one by one out
+of the palace window, and would have tossed the unlucky fairies after
+them, had not some of the bravest ones knelt down and asked for mercy,
+telling him they had obeyed his orders, and, if King Frost had taken
+back his treasure, they were not to blame.
+
+This turned their master's anger against King Frost, and very angry
+and fierce he was. He gnashed his great teeth with rage and rushed up
+and down in his palace, until it shook again. At last he made up his
+mind to go out that night, break down King Frost's beautiful palace,
+and take away all his riches.
+
+When night came, he started out with all his fairies. Some were armed
+with the clubs they had beaten off the leaves with, and others had
+lumps of ice to throw at their enemy; but the king had been so angry
+all day that he had not told them what to do; also, he had left their
+sharp spears locked up. He wrapped himself in his great white cloak of
+swan's down in order that he might look very grand, and so they went
+on their way.
+
+King Frost lived on the other side of the wood, and he had heard all
+the noise made by the winter fairies in spoiling the trees and had
+seen the next morning the mischief they had done. It made him very
+sorry to find the beautiful leaves all knocked off and taken away, and
+he determined to punish King Winter by going to attack _his_ palace
+that night. He spent the day making ready and dressing himself and his
+servants in shining coats of ice-armour and giving each one several
+spears and darts of ice tipped with sharp diamond points. They looked
+like brave little soldiers.
+
+The two groups of fairies met in the midst of the great wood. After
+some words between the kings, their servants fell to blows and a
+great battle they had. The winter fairies fought with their clubs and
+threw lumps of ice at the frost fairies; but their clubs were weak
+from being used so roughly the night before and soon broke; and when
+their ice-balls were all thrown away they could find no more. But King
+Frost had armed his servants well, and they threw their icy darts
+among the winter fairies. The trees, too, seemed to fight on the Frost
+King's side. The bare twigs pulled their hair and the branches ripped
+their ice clothes wherever they could. So the winter fairies had the
+worst of it and at last started off at full speed and rushed through
+the woods, never stopping till they reached the palace, and shut
+themselves in--leaving their king, who was too proud to run, all alone
+with King Frost and his fairies. You may be sure they were not very
+merciful to him. They began to pull his cloak, calling out, "Give us
+your cloak to keep our trees warm. You stole their pretty leaves; you
+must give us your cloak."
+
+Now this was a magic cloak and had been given to King Winter by the
+Queen of the fairies, so when he felt them pulling at it, he wrapped
+it tightly about him, and began to run. After him flew the frost
+fairies, pulling and plucking at his great white cloak, snatching out
+a bit here and a bit there and laughing and shouting while King Winter
+howled and roared and rushed along, not knowing where he went. On they
+flew up and down the wood in and out among the trees,--their way
+marked by the scattered bits of white down from King Winter's cloak.
+When day began King Winter found himself near his own palace. He
+dashed his tattered cloak to the ground and rushed through the gate,
+shaking his fist at King Frost.
+
+He and his fairies took the cloak. As they went home through the woods
+they hung beautiful wreaths of white down on all the trees and also
+trimmed the branches with their broken spears and darts, which shone
+like silver in the sunlight, and made the woods look as bright almost,
+as before it had been robbed of its golden and ruby leaves. Even the
+ground was covered with shining darts and white feathers. Every one
+thought it very beautiful, and no one could tell how it happened.
+(_Adapted._)
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOWSTORM
+
+
+ Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
+ Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
+ Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
+ Hides hills and woods, and river, and the heaven,
+ And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end,
+ The sled and traveler stopped, the courier's feet
+ Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
+ Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed
+ In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
+
+ Come, see the north wind's masonry.
+ Out of an unseen quarry evermore
+ Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
+ Curves his white bastions with projected roof
+ Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
+ Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
+ So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
+ For number or proportion. Mockingly,
+ On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
+ A swanlike form invests the hidden thorn;
+ Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
+ Mauger the farmer's sighs; and at the gate
+ A tapering turret overtops the work.
+ And when his hours are numbered, and the world
+ Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
+ Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
+ To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone--
+ Built in an age, the mad wind's night work,
+ The frolic architecture of the snow.
+
+ Ralph Waldo Emerson.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST WINTER
+
+(Iroquois Legend)
+
+
+There was a time when the days were always of the same length, and it
+was always summer. The red men lived continually in the smile of the
+Great Spirit and were happy. But there arose a chief who was so
+powerful that he at last declared himself mightier than the Great
+Spirit, and taught his brothers to go forth to the plain and mock him.
+They would call upon the Great Spirit to come and fight with them or
+would challenge him to take away the crop of growing corn or drive the
+game from the woods. They would say he was an unkind father to keep
+himself and their dead brothers in the Happy Hunting Grounds, where
+the red men could hunt forever without weariness.
+
+They laughed at their old men who had feared for so many moons to
+reproach the Great Spirit for his unfair treatment of the Indians who
+were compelled to hunt and fish for game for their wives and children,
+while their own women had to plant the corn and harvest it.
+
+"In the Happy Hunting Grounds," they said, "the Great Spirit feeds our
+brothers and their wives and does not let any foes or dangers come
+upon them, but here he lets us go hungry many times. If he is as great
+as you have said, why does he not take care of his children here?"
+
+Then the Great Spirit told them he would turn his smiling face away
+from them, so that they should have no more light and warmth and they
+must build fires in the forest if they would see.
+
+But the red men laughed and taunted him, telling him that he had
+followed one trail so long that he could not get out of it, but would
+have to come every day and give them light and heat as usual. Then
+they would dance and make faces at him and taunt him with his
+helplessness.
+
+In a few days the quick eyes of some of the red men saw in the morning
+the face of the Great Spirit appear where it was not wont to appear,
+but they were silent, fearing the jibes of their brothers. Finally,
+duller eyes noticed the change, and alarm and consternation spread
+among the people. Each day brought less and less of the Great Spirit's
+smile and his countenance was often hidden by dark clouds, while
+terrible storms beat upon the frightened faces turned in appeal toward
+the heavens. The strong braves and warriors became as women; the old
+men covered their heads with skins and starved in the forests; while
+the women in their lodges crooned the low, mournful wail of the death
+song. Frosts and snows came upon an unsheltered and stricken race, and
+many of them perished.
+
+Then the Great Spirit, who had almost removed his face from the sight
+of men, had pity and told them he would come back. Day after day the
+few that remained alive watched with joy the return of the sun. They
+sang in praise of the approaching summer and once more hailed with
+thankfulness the first blades of growing corn as it burst from the
+ground. The Great Spirit told his children that every year, as a
+punishment for the insults they had given their Father, they should
+feel for a season the might of the power they had mocked; and they
+murmured not, but bowed their heads in meekness.
+
+
+
+
+SNOW SONG
+
+
+ Over valley, over hill,
+ Hark, the shepherd piping shrill,
+ Driving all the white flock forth,
+ From the far folds of the north.
+
+ Blow, wind, blow,
+ Weird melodies you play,
+ Following your flocks that go
+ Across the world today.
+
+ Hither, thither, up and down,
+ Every highway of the town,
+ Huddling close the white flocks all
+ Gather at the shepherd's call.
+
+ Blow, wind, blow,
+ Upon your pipes of joy,
+ All your sheep the flakes of snow
+ And you their shepherd boy.
+
+ Frank Dempster Sherman.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW MAIDEN
+
+(Russian Legend)
+
+
+Once upon a time there lived a peasant named Ivan and his wife, Marie.
+They were very sad because they had no children. One cold winter day
+the peasant and his wife sat near a window in their cottage and
+watched the village children playing in the snow. The little ones were
+busily at work making a beautiful snow maiden.
+
+Ivan turned to his wife and said, "What a good time the children are
+having. See, they are making a beautiful snow maiden. Come, let us go
+into the garden and amuse ourselves in the same way. We will make a
+pretty little snow image."
+
+They went into the garden which lay back of their cottage.
+
+"My husband," said Marie, "we have no children, what do you say to
+our making for ourselves a child of snow?"
+
+"A very good idea!" said the husband. And he at once began to mold the
+form of a little body, with tiny feet and hands. His wife made a small
+head and set it upon the shoulders of the snow image.
+
+A man who passed by the garden stopped for a moment and looked at the
+peasants who were so strangely occupied. After a moment's silence he
+said to them, "May God help you."
+
+"Thank you," said Ivan.
+
+"God's blessing, indeed, is always good," nodded Marie.
+
+"What are you making?" asked the stranger.
+
+Ivan looked up and said, "We are making a little snow maiden." Then he
+went on with his work, forming the nose, chin, and eyes.
+
+In a few moments the snow child was finished, and Ivan looked at her
+in great admiration. Suddenly, he noticed that the mouth and eyes
+opened, the cheeks and lips took on a rosy hue, and in a few moments
+the astonished peasant saw standing before him a living child.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked, filled with wonder at seeing a little girl
+instead of a snow image.
+
+"I am Snow White, your little daughter," said the child. Then she
+threw her arms lovingly around the man and his wife, who both began to
+cry for joy.
+
+The delighted parents took Snow White into the cottage, and before
+long the news ran through the village that a little daughter had come
+to live with Ivan and Marie.
+
+Of course the village children came to play with Snow White. She was
+such a charming little girl, with a very white skin, eyes as blue as
+the sky, and lovely golden hair. To be sure, her cheeks were not so
+rosy as those of her companions, but she was so bright and gentle that
+everyone loved her very much indeed.
+
+The winter passed very quickly and Snow White grew so fast that by the
+time the trees were veiled in the green buds of spring she was as tall
+as a girl of twelve or thirteen years.
+
+During the winter months the snow maiden had been very joyous and
+happy, but when the mild, warm days of spring came she seemed sad and
+low-spirited. Her mother, Marie, noticed the change and said to her,
+"My dear little girl, why are you sad? Tell me, are you ill?"
+
+"No, mother, dear, I am not ill," said Snow White. But she no longer
+seemed to enjoy playing out of doors with the other children; she
+stayed very quietly in the cottage.
+
+One lovely spring day the village children came to the cottage and
+called out, "Come, Snow White! Come! We are going into the woods to
+gather wild flowers. Come with us."
+
+"Yes, do go, my dear!" said mother Marie. "Go with your little friends
+and gather spring flowers. I'm sure you'll enjoy the outing."
+
+Away went the happy children to the woods. They gathered the lovely
+wild flowers and made them into bouquets and coronets, and when the
+afternoon sun began to sink in the western sky they built a big
+bonfire. Gayly they sang little songs, merrily dancing around the
+bright, crackling blaze.
+
+"Let each one dance alone," called out one of the little girls.
+
+"Snow White, watch us for a little while, and then you, too, will
+know how to dance alone."
+
+Away whirled the happy little children, dancing freely round and round
+the bonfire. In a little while Snow White joined them.
+
+When the gay little people were out of breath and the dancing grew
+slower and slower, some one called out, "Where is Snow White?"
+
+"Snow White, where are you?" shouted the other children, but nowhere
+could they find their little companion.
+
+They ran home and told Ivan and Marie that Snow White had disappeared
+while dancing round the bonfire. The villagers made a thorough search
+for the little maiden, but they never found her, for while she was
+dancing around the bonfire she had slowly changed into a little white
+vapour and had flown away toward the sky, where she changed into a
+delicate snowflake.
+
+
+
+
+THE FROST KING
+
+
+ Oho! have you seen the Frost King,
+ A-marching up the hill?
+ His hoary face is stern and pale,
+ His touch is icy chill.
+ He sends the birdlings to the South,
+ He bids the brooks be still;
+ Yet not in wrath or cruelty
+ He marches up the hill.
+
+ He will often rest at noontime,
+ To see the sunbeams play;
+ And flash his spears of icicles,
+ Or let them melt away.
+ He'll toss the snowflakes in the air,
+ Nor let them go nor stay;
+ Then hold his breath while swift they fall,
+ That coasting boys may play.
+
+ He'll touch the brooks and rivers wide,
+ That skating crowds may shout;
+ He'll make the people far and near
+ Remember he's about.
+ He'll send his nimble, frosty Jack--
+ Without a shade of doubt--
+ To do all kinds of merry pranks,
+ And call the children out;
+
+ He'll sit upon the whitened fields,
+ And reach his icy hand
+ O'er houses where the sudden cold
+ Folks cannot understand.
+ The very moon, that ventures forth
+ From clouds so soft and grand,
+ Will stare to see the stiffened look
+ That settles o'er the land.
+
+ And so the Frost King o'er the hills,
+ And o'er the startled plain,
+ Will come and go from year to year
+ Till Earth grows young again--
+ Till Time himself shall cease to be,
+ Till gone are hill and plain:
+ Whenever Winter comes to stay,
+ The hoary King shall reign.
+
+ Mary Mapes Dodge.
+
+
+
+
+KING WINTER'S HARVEST
+
+
+King Winter sat upon his iceberg throne, and waving his scepter, a
+huge icicle, called for all the Snow Fairies and Frost Fairies to draw
+near, as he wished to see them.
+
+"Tell me, Snow Fairies," said King Winter, "what have you been doing
+of late; have you made anybody happy by your work?"
+
+"Oh, yes," they all said at once, "we had the jolliest time last night
+putting white dresses on the trees, white spreads over the grasses,
+white caps on all the fence posts, and making things look so strange
+that when the children came out in the morning they just shouted and
+laughed, and soon threw so much snow over each other that they were
+dressed in white, too, and seemed Snow Fairies like ourselves. They,
+too, wanted to make curious canes, castles, and other things with the
+snow as we had done. Sleds were brought out and when the sleighbells
+commenced their music it seemed that everybody was made glad by our
+work."
+
+"Well done," said King Winter, "now away to your work again."
+
+In a twinkling the Snow Fairies were up in a purple cloud-boat
+throwing a shower of snowflake kisses down to King Winter to thank him
+for giving them work to do.
+
+"Now, Frost Fairies," said King Winter, turning to a glittering band
+who wore some of his own jewels, "what have you done to make anybody
+glad?"
+
+"We have made pictures upon the windows and hung your jewels upon the
+trees for the people to look at, and covered the skating ponds," said
+Jack Frost, the leader.
+
+"That is good," said King Winter. "You and the Snow Fairies seem to be
+making the world glad now, but pretty soon we must leave the work, and
+the good sunbeams will put our things away; they will hide the
+snowballs, and crack the skating ponds so that the ice may float
+downstream. Now I would like to make something that will keep long
+after we are gone away. Queen Summer is gone but her harvest of hay
+and grain is in the barns. Queen Autumn is gone but her harvest of
+apples and potatoes is in the cellars; now I want to leave a harvest,
+too."
+
+"But the sunbeams are away most of the time now," said Jack Frost.
+"Can anything grow without them?"
+
+"My harvest will grow best without them," said King Winter, "and I'll
+just hang up a thick cloud curtain and ask them to play upon the other
+side while my harvest grows. Mr. North Wind will help, and if all you
+Frost Fairies do your liveliest work my harvest will soon be ready."
+
+North Wind soon came with bags of cold air which he scattered hither
+and thither, while the Frost Fairies carried it into every track and
+corner, wondering all the while what the harvest would be. But after
+two days' work they found out; for horses were hitched to sleds and
+men started for the lakes and rivers, saying, "The ice has frozen so
+thick that it is a fine time to fill the ice-houses." Saws and poles
+were carried along, and soon huge blocks of ice were finding places
+upon the sleds ready for a ride to some ice-house where they would be
+packed so securely in sawdust that King Winter's harvest would keep
+through the very hottest weather.
+
+"Then the ice-men can play that they are we," said a Frost Fairy,
+"scattering cold all about to make people glad."
+
+
+
+
+OLD KING WINTER
+
+
+ Old King Winter's on his throne
+ In robes of ermine white;
+ The crown of jewels on his head
+ Now glitters bright with light.
+
+ The little flakes of snow and hail,
+ And tiny pearls of sleet,
+ Are with the wild winds dancing
+ All round his magic feet.
+
+ His beard is white, his cheeks are red,
+ His heart is filled with cheer;
+ His season's best some people say;
+ The _best_ of all the year.
+
+ Anna E. Skinner.
+
+
+
+
+SHELTERING WINGS
+
+Harriet Louise Jerome
+
+
+It was intensely cold. Heavy sleds creaked as they scraped over the
+jeweled sounding board of dry, unyielding snow; the signs above shop
+doors shrieked and groaned as they swung helplessly to and fro; and
+the clear, keen air seemed frozen into sharp little crystalline
+needles that stabbed every living thing that must be out in it. The
+streets were almost forsaken in mid-afternoon. Business men hurried
+from shelter to shelter; every dog remained at home; not a bird was to
+be seen or heard. The sparrows had been forced to hide themselves in
+crevices and holes; the doves found protected corners and huddled
+together as best they could; many birds were frozen to death.
+
+A dozen or more doves were gathered close under the cornice of the
+piazza of a certain house, trying with little success to keep warm.
+Some small sparrows, disturbed and driven from the cozy place they had
+chosen, saw the doves and came flying across the piazza.
+
+"Dear doves," chirped the sparrows, "won't you let us nestle near you?
+Your bodies look so large and warm."
+
+"But your coats are frosted with cold. We cannot let you come near us,
+for we are almost frozen now," murmured the doves sadly.
+
+"But we are perishing."
+
+"So are we."
+
+"It looks so warm near your broad wings, gentle doves. Oh, let us
+come! We are so little, and so very, very cold!"
+
+"Come," cooed a dove at last, and a trembling little sparrow fluttered
+close and nestled under the broad white wing.
+
+"Come," cooed another dove, and another little sparrow found comfort.
+
+"Come! Come!" echoed another warm-hearted bird, and another, until at
+last more than half the doves were sheltering small, shivering
+sparrows beneath their own half-frozen wings.
+
+"My sisters, you are very foolish," said the other doves. "You mean
+well, but why do you risk your own beautiful lives to give life to
+worthless sparrows?"
+
+"Ah! they were so small, and so very, very cold," murmured the doves.
+"Many of us will perish this cruel night; while we have life let us
+share its meager warmth with those in bitter need."
+
+Colder and colder grew the day. The sun went down behind the clouds
+suffused with soft and radiant beauty, but more fiercely and
+relentlessly swept the wind around the house where the doves and
+sparrows waited for death.
+
+An hour after sunset a man came up to the house and strode across the
+piazza. As the door of the house closed heavily behind him, a little
+child watching from the window saw something jarred from the cornice
+fall heavily to the piazza floor.
+
+"Oh, papa," she cried in surprise, "a poor frozen dove has fallen on
+our porch!"
+
+When he stepped out to pick up the fallen dove the father saw the
+others under the cornice. They were no longer able to move or to
+utter a cry, so he brought them in and placed them in a room where
+they might slowly revive. Soon more than half of the doves could coo
+gratefully, and raise their stiffened wings. Then out from beneath the
+wing of each revived dove fluttered a living sparrow.
+
+"Look, papa!" cried the child. "Each dove that has come to life was
+holding a poor little sparrow close to her heart."
+
+They gently raised the wings of the doves that could not be revived.
+Not one had a sparrow beneath it.
+
+Colder and fiercer swept the wind without, cutting and more piercing
+grew the frozen, crystalline needles of air, but each dove that had
+sheltered a frost-coated sparrow beneath her own shivering wings lived
+to rejoice in the glowing gladsome sunshine of the days to come.
+
+
+
+
+SNOWFLAKES
+
+
+ Out of the Bosom of the Air,
+ Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
+ Over the woodlands brown and bare,
+ Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
+ Silent, and soft, and slow,
+ Descends the snow.
+
+ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW-IMAGE
+
+Nathaniel Hawthorne
+
+
+One afternoon of a cold winter's day, when the sun shone forth with
+chilly brightness, after a long storm, two children asked leave of
+their mother to run out and play in the new-fallen snow.
+
+The elder child was a little girl, whom, because she was of a tender
+and modest disposition, and was thought to be very beautiful, her
+parents, and other people who were familiar with her, used to call
+Violet.
+
+But her brother was known by the title of Peony, on account of the
+ruddiness of his broad and round little phiz, which made everybody
+think of sunshine and great scarlet flowers.
+
+"Yes, Violet--yes, my little Peony," said their kind mother; "you may
+go out and play in the new snow."
+
+Forth sallied the two children, with a hop-skip-and-jump, that
+carried them at once into the very heart of a huge snow-drift, whence
+Violet emerged like a snow bunting, while little Peony floundered out
+with his round face in full bloom.
+
+Then what a merry time they had! To look at them, frolicking in the
+wintry garden, you would have thought that the dark and pitiless storm
+had been sent for no other purpose but to provide a new plaything for
+Violet and Peony; and that they themselves had been created, as the
+snowbirds were, to take delight only in the tempest and in the white
+mantle which it spread over the earth.
+
+At last, when they had frosted one another all over with handfuls of
+snow, Violet, after laughing heartily at little Peony's figure, was
+struck with a new idea.
+
+"You look exactly like a snow-image, Peony," said she, "if your cheeks
+were not so red. And that puts me in mind! Let us make an image out of
+snow--an image of a little girl--and it shall be our sister, and shall
+run about and play with us all winter long. Won't it be nice?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried Peony, as plainly as he could speak, for he was but
+a little boy. "That will be nice! And mamma shall see it."
+
+"Yes," answered Violet; "mamma shall see the new little girl. But she
+must not make her come into the warm parlour, for, you know, our
+little snow-sister will not love the warmth."
+
+And forthwith the children began this great business of making a
+snow-image that should run about; while their mother, who was knitting
+at the window and overheard some of their talk, could not help smiling
+at the gravity with which they set about it. They really seemed to
+imagine that there would be no difficulty whatever in creating a live
+little girl out of the snow.
+
+Indeed, it was an exceedingly pleasant sight--those bright little
+souls at their task! Moreover, it was really wonderful to observe how
+knowingly and skillfully they managed the matter. Violet assumed the
+chief direction, and told Peony what to do, while, with her own
+delicate fingers, she shaped out all the nicer parts of the
+snow-figure.
+
+It seemed, in fact, not so much to be made by the children, as to
+grow up under their hands, while they were playing and prattling about
+it. Their mother was quite surprised at this, and the longer she
+looked, the more and more surprised she grew.
+
+Now, for a few moments, there was a busy and earnest but indistinct
+hum of the two children's voices, as Violet and Peony wrought together
+with one happy consent. Violet still seemed to be the guiding spirit,
+while Peony acted rather as a labourer and brought her the snow from
+far and near. And yet the little urchin evidently had a proper
+understanding of the matter, too.
+
+"Peony, Peony!" cried Violet; for her brother was at the other side of
+the garden. "Bring me those light wreaths of snow that have rested on
+the lower branches of the pear-tree. You can clamber on the
+snow-drift, Peony, and reach them easily. I must have them to make
+some ringlets for our snow-sister's head!"
+
+"Here they are, Violet!" answered the little boy. "Take care you do
+not break them. Well done! Well done! How pretty!"
+
+"Does she not look sweet?" said Violet, with a very satisfied tone;
+"and now we must have some little shining bits of ice to make the
+brightness of her eyes. She is not finished yet. Mamma will see how
+very beautiful she is; but papa will say, 'Tush! nonsense! come in out
+of the cold!'"
+
+"Let us call mamma to look out," said Peony; and then he shouted,
+"Mamma! mamma!! mamma!!! Look out and see what a nice 'ittle girl we
+are making!"
+
+"What a nice playmate she will be for us all winter long!" said
+Violet. "I hope papa will not be afraid of her giving us a cold!
+Sha'n't you love her dearly, Peony?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried Peony. "And I will hug her and she shall sit down
+close by me and drink some of my warm milk."
+
+"Oh, no, Peony!" answered Violet, with grave wisdom. "That will not do
+at all. Warm milk will not be wholesome for our little snow-sister.
+Little snow-people like her eat nothing but icicles. No, no, Peony; we
+must not give her anything warm to drink!"
+
+There was a minute or two of silence; for Peony, whose short legs
+were never weary, had gone again to the other side of the garden. All
+of a sudden, Violet cried out, loudly and joyfully, "Look here, Peony!
+Come quickly! A light has been shining on her cheek out of that
+rose-coloured cloud! And the colour does not go away! Is not that
+beautiful?"
+
+"Yes, it is beau-ti-ful," answered Peony, pronouncing the three
+syllables with deliberate accuracy. "O Violet, only look at her hair!
+It is all like gold!"
+
+"Oh, certainly," said Violet, as if it were very much a matter of
+course. "That colour, you know, comes from the golden clouds that we
+see up there in the sky. She is almost finished now. But her lips must
+be made very red, redder than her cheeks. Perhaps, Peony, it will make
+them red if we both kiss them!"
+
+Accordingly, the mother heard two smart little smacks, as if both her
+children were kissing the snow-image on its frozen mouth. But, as this
+did not seem to make the lips quite red enough, Violet next proposed
+that the snow-child should be invited to kiss Peony's scarlet cheek.
+"Come, 'ittle snow-sister, kiss me!" cried Peony.
+
+"There! she has kissed you," added Violet, "and now her lips are very
+red. And she blushed a little, too!"
+
+"Oh, what a cold kiss!" cried Peony.
+
+Just then, there came a breeze of the pure west wind sweeping through
+the garden and rattling the parlour-windows. It sounded so wintry
+cold, that the mother was about to tap on the window-pane with her
+thimbled finger, to summon the two children in, when they both cried
+out to her with one voice:
+
+"Mamma! mamma! We have finished our little snow-sister, and she is
+running about the garden with us!"
+
+"What imaginative little beings my children are!" thought the mother,
+putting the last few stitches into Peony's frock. "And it is strange,
+too, that they make me almost as much a child as they themselves are!
+I can hardly help believing now that the snow-image has really come to
+life!"
+
+"Dear mamma!" cried Violet, "pray look out and see what a sweet
+playmate we have!"
+
+The mother, being thus entreated, could no longer delay to look forth
+from the window. The sun was now gone out of the sky, leaving,
+however, a rich inheritance of his brightness among those purple and
+golden clouds which make the sunsets of winter so magnificent.
+
+But there was not the slightest gleam or dazzle, either on the window
+or on the snow; so that the good lady could look all over the garden,
+and see everything and everybody in it. And what do you think she saw
+there? Violet and Peony, of course, her own two darling children.
+
+Ah, but whom or what did she see besides? Why, if you will believe me,
+there was a small figure of a girl, dressed all in white, with
+rose-tinged cheeks and ringlets of golden hue, playing about the
+garden with the two children!
+
+A stranger though she was, the child seemed to be on as familiar terms
+with Violet and Peony, and they with her, as if all the three had been
+playmates during the whole of their little lives. The mother thought
+to herself that it must certainly be the daughter of one of the
+neighbours, and that, seeing Violet and Peony in the garden, the child
+had run across the street to play with them.
+
+So this kind lady went to the door, intending to invite the little
+runaway into her comfortable parlour; for, now that the sunshine was
+withdrawn, the atmosphere out of doors was already growing very cold.
+
+But, after opening the house-door, she stood an instant on the
+threshold, hesitating whether she ought to ask the child to come in,
+or whether she should even speak to her. Indeed, she almost doubted
+whether it were a real child, after all, or only a light wreath of the
+new-fallen snow, blown hither and thither about the garden by the
+intensely cold west wind.
+
+There was certainly something very singular in the aspect of the
+little stranger. Among all the children of the neighbourhood the lady
+could remember no such face, with its pure white and delicate
+rose-colour, and the golden ringlets tossing about the forehead and
+cheeks.
+
+And as for her dress, which was entirely of white, and fluttering in
+the breeze, it was such as no reasonable woman would put upon a little
+girl when sending her out to play in the depth of winter. It made this
+kind and careful mother shiver only to look at those small feet, with
+nothing in the world on them except a very thin pair of white
+slippers.
+
+Nevertheless, airily as she was clad, the child seemed to feel not the
+slightest inconvenience from the cold, but danced so lightly over the
+snow that the tips of her toes left hardly a print in its surface;
+while Violet could but just keep pace with her, and Peony's short legs
+compelled him to lag behind.
+
+All this while, the mother stood on the threshold, wondering how a
+little girl could look so much like a flying snow-drift, or how a
+snow-drift could look so very like a little girl.
+
+She called Violet and whispered to her.
+
+"Violet, my darling, what is this child's name?" asked she. "Does she
+live near us?"
+
+"Why, dearest mamma," answered Violet, laughing to think that her
+mother did not comprehend so very plain an affair, "this is our
+little snow-sister whom we have just been making!"
+
+"Yes, dear mamma," cried Peony, running to his mother, and looking up
+simply into her face. "This is our snow-image! Is it not a nice 'ittle
+child?"
+
+"Violet," said her mother, greatly perplexed, "tell me the truth,
+without any jest. Who is this little girl?"
+
+"My darling mamma," answered Violet, looking seriously into her
+mother's face, surprised that she should need any further explanation,
+"I have told you truly who she is. It is our little snow-image which
+Peony and I have been making. Peony will tell you so, as well as I."
+
+"Yes, mamma," declared Peony, with much gravity in his crimson little
+phiz, "this is 'ittle snow-child. Is not she a nice one? But, mamma,
+her hand is, oh, so very cold!"
+
+While mamma still hesitated what to think and what to do, the
+street-gate was thrown open, and the father of Violet and Peony
+appeared, wrapped in a pilot-cloth sack, with a fur cap drawn down
+over his ears, and the thickest of gloves upon his hands.
+
+Mr. Lindsey was a middle-aged man, with a weary and yet a happy look
+in his wind-flushed and frost-pinched face, as if he had been busy all
+day long, and was glad to get back to his quiet home. His eyes
+brightened at the sight of his wife and children, although he could
+not help uttering a word or two of surprise at finding the whole
+family in the open air, on so bleak a day, and after sunset, too.
+
+He soon perceived the little white stranger, sporting to and fro in
+the garden, like a dancing snow-wreath and the flock of snowbirds
+fluttering about her head.
+
+"Pray, what little girl may this be?" inquired this very sensible man.
+"Surely her mother must be crazy, to let her go out in such bitter
+weather as it has been today, with only that flimsy white gown and
+those thin slippers!"
+
+"My dear husband," said his wife, "I know no more about the little
+thing than you do. Some neighbour's child, I suppose. Our Violet and
+Peony," she added, laughing at herself for repeating so absurd a
+story, "insist that she is nothing but a snow-image which they have
+been busy about in the garden, almost all the afternoon."
+
+As she said this, the mother glanced her eyes toward the spot where
+the children's snow-image had been made. What was her surprise on
+perceiving that there was not the slightest trace of so much
+labour!--no image at all!--no piled-up heap of snow!--nothing
+whatever, save the prints of little footsteps around a vacant space!
+
+"This is very strange!" said she.
+
+"What is strange, dear mother?" asked Violet. "Dear father, do not you
+see how it is? This is our snow-image, which Peony and I have made,
+because we wanted another playmate. Did not we, Peony?"
+
+"Yes, papa," said crimson Peony. "This is our 'ittle snow-sister. Is
+she not beau-ti-ful? But she gave me such a cold kiss!"
+
+"Pooh, nonsense, children!" cried their good honest father, who had a
+plain, sensible way of looking at matters. "Do not tell me of making
+live figures out of snow. Come, wife; this little stranger must not
+stay out in the bleak air a moment longer. We will bring her into the
+parlour; and you shall give her a supper of warm bread and milk, and
+make her as comfortable as you can."
+
+So saying, this honest and very kind-hearted man was going toward the
+little damsel, with the best intentions in the world. But Violet and
+Peony, each seizing their father by the hand, earnestly besought him
+not to make her come in.
+
+"Nonsense, children, nonsense, nonsense!" cried the father,
+half-vexed, half-laughing. "Run into the house, this moment! It is too
+late to play any longer now. I must take care of this little girl
+immediately, or she will catch her death of cold."
+
+And so, with a most benevolent smile, this very well-meaning gentleman
+took the snow-child by the hand and led her toward the house.
+
+She followed him, droopingly and reluctant, for all the glow and
+sparkle were gone out of her figure; and, whereas just before she had
+resembled a bright, frosty, star-gemmed evening, with a crimson gleam
+on the cold horizon, she now looked as dull and languid as a thaw.
+
+As kind Mr. Lindsey led her up the steps of the door, Violet and Peony
+looked into his face, their eyes full of tears which froze before they
+could run down their cheeks, and again entreated him not to bring
+their snow-image into the house.
+
+"Not bring her in!" exclaimed the kind-hearted man. "Why, you are
+crazy, my little Violet!--quite crazy, my small Peony! She is so cold
+already that her hand has almost frozen mine, in spite of my thick
+gloves. Would you have her freeze to death?"
+
+His wife, as he came up the steps, had been taking another long,
+earnest gaze at the little white stranger. She hardly knew whether it
+was a dream or no; but she could not help fancying that she saw the
+delicate print of Violet's fingers on the child's neck. It looked just
+as if, while Violet was shaping out the image, she had given it a
+gentle pat with her hand, and had neglected to smooth the impression
+quite away.
+
+"After all, husband," said the mother, "after all, she does look
+strangely like a snow-image! I do believe she is made of snow!"
+
+A puff of the west wind blew against the snow-child, and again she
+sparkled like a star.
+
+"Snow!" repeated good Mr. Lindsey, drawing the reluctant guest over
+his hospitable threshold. "No wonder she looks like snow. She is half
+frozen, poor little thing! But a good fire will put everything to
+rights."
+
+This common-sensible man placed the snow-child on the hearth-rug,
+right in front of the hissing and fuming stove.
+
+"Now she will be comfortable!" cried Mr. Lindsey, rubbing his hands
+and looking about him, with the pleasantest smile you ever saw. "Make
+yourself at home, my child."
+
+Sad, sad and drooping, looked the little white maiden as she stood on
+the hearth-rug, with the hot blast of the stove striking through her
+like a pestilence. Once she threw a glance toward the window, and
+caught a glimpse, through its red curtains, of the snow-covered roofs
+and the stars glimmering frostily, and all the delicious intensity of
+the cold night. The bleak wind rattled the window-panes as if it were
+summoning her to come forth. But there stood the snow-child, drooping,
+before the hot stove!
+
+But the common-sensible man saw nothing amiss.
+
+"Come, wife," said he, "let her have a pair of thick stockings and a
+woolen shawl or blanket directly; and tell Dora to give her some warm
+supper as soon as the milk boils. You, Violet and Peony, amuse your
+little friend. She is out of spirits, you see, at finding herself in a
+strange place. For my part, I will go around among the neighbours and
+find out where she belongs."
+
+The mother, meanwhile, had gone in search of the shawl and stockings.
+Without heeding the remonstrance of his two children, who still kept
+murmuring that their little snow-sister did not love the warmth, good
+Mr. Lindsey took his departure, shutting the parlour door carefully
+behind him.
+
+Turning up the collar of his sack over his ears, he emerged from the
+house, and had barely reached the street-gate, when he was recalled by
+the screams of Violet and Peony and the rapping of a thimbled finger
+against the parlour window.
+
+"Husband! husband!" cried his wife, showing her horror-stricken face
+through the window panes. "There is no need of going for the child's
+parents!"
+
+"We told you so, father!" screamed Violet and Peony, as he re-entered
+the parlour. "You would bring her in; and now our poor--dear--beau-ti-ful
+little snow-sister is thawed!"
+
+And their own sweet little faces were already dissolved in tears; so
+that their father, seeing what strange things occasionally happen in
+this every-day world, felt not a little anxious lest his children
+might be going to thaw too. In the utmost perplexity, he demanded an
+explanation of his wife. She could only reply that, being summoned to
+the parlour by cries of Violet and Peony, she found no trace of the
+little white maiden, unless it were the remains of a heap of snow,
+which, while she was gazing at it, melted quite away upon the
+hearth-rug.
+
+"And there you see all that is left of it!" added she, pointing to a
+pool of water, in front of the stove.
+
+"Yes, father," said Violet, looking reproachfully at him through her
+tears, "there is all that is left of our dear little snow-sister!"
+
+"Naughty father!" cried Peony, stamping his foot, and--I shudder to
+say--shaking his little fist at the common-sensible man. "We told you
+how it would be! What for did you bring her in?"
+
+And the stove, through the isinglass of its door, seemed to glare at
+good Mr. Lindsey, like a red-eyed demon, triumphing in the mischief
+which it had done! (_Abridged._)
+
+
+
+
+WINTER WOODS
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST SNOW-FALL
+
+
+ The snow had begun in the gloaming,
+ And busily all the night
+ Had been heaping field and highway
+ With a silence deep and white.
+
+ Every pine and fir and hemlock
+ Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
+ And the poorest twig on the elm tree
+ Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
+
+ James Russell Lowell.
+
+
+
+
+THE VOICE OF THE PINE TREES
+
+(Japanese Legend)
+
+
+ "And all the while
+ The voice of the breeze
+ As it blows through the firs
+ That grow old together
+ Will yield us delight."
+
+In ancient days there lived a fisherman and his wife, and little
+daughter Matsue. There was nothing that Matsue loved to do more than
+to sit under the great pine tree. She was particularly fond of the
+pine needles that never seemed tired of falling to the ground. With
+these she fashioned a beautiful dress and sash, saying, "I will not
+wear these pine clothes until my wedding day."
+
+One day while Matsue was sitting under the pine tree, she sang the
+following song:
+
+ "No one so callous but he heaves a sigh
+ When o'er his head the withered cherry flowers
+ Come fluttering down. Who knows?--the spring's soft showers
+ May be but tears shed by the sorrowing sky."
+
+While thus she sang Teogo stood on the steep shore of Sumiyoshi
+watching the flight of a heron. Up, up, it went into the blue sky, and
+Teogo saw it fly over the village where the fishfolk and their
+daughter lived.
+
+Now Teogo was a youth who dearly loved adventure and he thought it
+would be very delightful to swim across the sea and discover the land
+over which the heron had flown. So one morning he dived into the sea
+and swam so hard and so long that the poor fellow found the waves
+spinning and dancing and saw the great sky bend down and try to touch
+him. Then he lay unconscious on the water; but the waves were kind to
+him after all, for they pressed him on and on till he was washed up at
+the very place where Matsue sat under the pine tree.
+
+Matsue carefully dragged Teogo underneath its sheltering branches,
+and then set him down upon a couch of pine needles, where he soon
+regained consciousness and warmly thanked Matsue for her kindness.
+
+Teogo did not go back to his own country, for, after a few happy
+months had gone by, he married Matsue and on her wedding morn she wore
+her dress and sash of pine needles.
+
+When Matsue's parents died her loss only seemed to make her love for
+Teogo the more. The older they grew the more they loved each other.
+Every night when the moon shone, they went hand in hand to the pine
+tree and with their little rake they made a couch for the morrow.
+
+One night the great silver face of the moon peered through the
+branches of the pine tree and looked in vain for the two sitting
+together on a couch of pine needles. Their little rakes lay side by
+side and still the moon waited for the slow steps of these pine tree
+lovers. But that night they did not come. They had gone home to an
+everlasting place on the River of Souls.
+
+They had loved so well and so splendidly, in old age as well as in
+youth, that their souls were allowed to come back again and wander
+round the pine tree that had listened to their love for so many years.
+
+When the moon is full they whisper and laugh and sing and draw the
+pine needles together, while the sea sings softly upon the shore:
+
+ "The dawn is near
+ And the hoar-frost falls
+ On the fir tree twigs;
+ But its leaves dark green
+ Suffer no change.
+ Morning and evening
+ Beneath its shade
+ The leaves are swept away,
+ Yet they never fail.
+ True it is
+ That these fir trees
+ Shed not all their leaves;
+ Their verdure remains fresh
+ For ages long,
+ As the Masaka's trailing vine;
+ Even amongst evergreen trees--
+ The emblem of unchangeableness--
+ Exalted is their fame
+ As a symbol to the end of time.
+ The fame of the fir trees that
+ Have grown old together."
+
+
+
+
+THE PINE TREE MAIDEN
+
+(Indian Legend)
+
+
+In an Indian village which stood near the Big Sea Water lived a
+beautiful little girl whose name was Leelinau. Her chief delight was
+to wander among the pine trees of a sacred grove which bordered the
+great waters. Here she passed many hours watching the sunlight dance
+on the stems of the tall trees and listening to the soft music of the
+wind as it came up from the sea and played in the forest.
+
+The child's desire to spend so much of her time alone in the grove
+made her little companions regard her with awe, and they sometimes
+whispered together about the meaning of her strange journeys to the
+deep woods.
+
+"Leelinau goes to the forest to play with the Puckwudjinies. She
+dances with the fairy folk and talks to them in their own language,"
+said the Indian children when they saw the little girl's figure
+hurrying toward the grove of pine trees.
+
+Leelinau's parents took little notice of her strange attraction for
+the lonely forest. They thought it was a childish fancy which would
+vanish in a few years. But the little girl grew into a beautiful
+slender maiden and still she visited her retreat with increasing
+delight.
+
+"When Leelinau goes to the forest the air is filled with the sweetest
+perfume and the trees nod their feathery plumes in welcome to her,"
+whispered the youths and maidens of the village. "Some say she calls
+the pine trees by name and they answer her in a strange language which
+she understands."
+
+One day it happened that an Indian hunter, who was a mighty chief,
+passed through the sacred grove. There, leaning against her favourite
+tree, a stately pine, he saw Leelinau, a dark-haired maiden
+marvellously beautiful. In a few days the chief sought her parents and
+laid before them rich gifts, saying that he wished to make the forest
+maiden his bride.
+
+To the surprise of all the people in the village Leelinau took no joy
+in her approaching marriage to the great chief. To be sure, she made
+no complaint, for she was an obedient daughter. But each day, when she
+returned from her accustomed journey to the forest, she was sad and
+thoughtful. Sometimes she stood before her father's tepee and looked
+with wistful eyes toward her beloved grove.
+
+At last the day arrived on which the great chief would claim her for
+his bride. The forest maiden dressed herself in her beautiful wedding
+robe and took her usual walk into the forest. Her parents were not
+surprised that she should wish to take a farewell look at the grove
+where she had spent so many happy hours, and which she was about to
+leave, for the great chief lived many miles away.
+
+When she reached the forest she hastened to her beautiful pine tree.
+Clinging to the trunk she wept bitterly and whispered the story of her
+coming marriage to a war chief from whom her heart shrank in fear.
+When she had finished there was a soft rustling in the branches
+overhead and a voice said: "Leelinau! Leelinau! thou art my beloved!
+Wilt thou stay in the forest and be my bride?"
+
+And she answered, "I will never leave my pine tree lover."
+
+The sun stood high above the sacred grove and Leelinau had not
+returned to her father's lodge. Friends were sent to bring her to the
+village but they came back with the report that the maiden was not in
+the forest. The great chief and his warriors searched far and wide for
+the lost maiden. She had disappeared so completely that the
+keenest-eyed Indians could discover no trace of her. The chief
+departed without his bride and for a year no tidings of Leelinau came
+to the village.
+
+It happened one calm evening when the sun was sinking into the Big Sea
+Water, that an Indian youth in a birch bark canoe was swiftly skimming
+along toward the shore bordered by the sacred grove. There, standing
+near the deep forest, was a familiar figure. It was Leelinau, the lost
+maiden. In his surprise and joy the youth shouted to her and she
+waved her hand to him in recognition. Then he noticed that she was
+not alone. By her side stood a handsome brave with a green plume
+standing high on his head. With all his might the young Indian
+quickened the speed of his canoe and in a few moments he sprang
+ashore. But where were Leelinau and the young brave! They had
+disappeared and not a trace of them was to be found on the lonely
+shore or in the forest.
+
+The youth returned to the village and told his story. Reverently the
+people bowed their heads and whispered, "Leelinau will never come back
+to us. She is the bride of her favourite pine tree."
+
+
+
+
+THE HOLLY
+
+Janet Harvey Kelman
+
+
+The Holly is our most important evergreen, and is so well known that
+it scarcely needs any description. It has flourished in this country
+as long as the Oak, and is often found growing under tall trees in the
+crowded forests, as well as in the open glades, where lawns of fine
+grass are to be found.
+
+People say that the Holly, or Holm tree, as it is often called, is the
+greenwood tree spoken of by Shakespeare, and that under its bushy
+shelter Robin Hood and his merry men held their meetings in the open
+glades of Sherwood Forest. Sometimes it is called the Holly tree,
+because from the oldest time of which we have any record its boughs
+have been used to deck our shrines and churches, and in some parts of
+England the country people in December speak of gathering Christmas,
+which is the name they give to the Holly, or Holy tree. It is this
+evergreen which we oftenest use at Christmas-tide to decorate our
+churches, and very lovely the dark green sprays, with their coral
+berries, look when twined round the grey stone pillars.
+
+The Holly is looked upon as a second-rate forest tree. It is never
+very large, and it usually appears as a thick, tall bush, with many
+branches reaching almost to the ground. Sometimes you find it with a
+slender, bare trunk, clothed with pale grey bark, and if you look
+closely at this bark you will see that it is covered with curious
+black markings, as if some strange writing had been traced on it with
+a heavy black pen.
+
+This writing is the work of a tiny plant which makes its home on the
+Holly stem and spreads in this strange way.
+
+The bark of the young Holly shoots and boughs is pale green and quite
+smooth.
+
+The tree requires little sunshine, and it seems to keep all it gets as
+every leaf is highly polished and reflects the light like a mirror.
+These leaves grow closely on every branch; they are placed
+alternately on each side of the twigs, and are oval, with the edges so
+much waved that the leaves will not lie flat, but curl on each side of
+the centre rib.
+
+The prickly leaves which grow low down on the tree have sharp spines
+along the waved edges, and a very sharp spine always grows at the
+point of the leaf. But the upper branches are clothed with blunt
+leaves which have no spines along the edges; instead there is a pale
+yellow line round each leaf, and there is a single blunt spine at the
+point.
+
+Sheep and deer are very fond of eating the tough, leathery leaves of
+the Holly, and it is believed that the tree clothes its lower branches
+in prickly leaves to protect itself from these greedy enemies.
+
+Country people tell you that if branches of smooth Holly are the first
+to be brought into the house at Christmas-time, then the wife will be
+head of the house all the next year, but if the prickly boughs enter
+first, then the husband will be ruler.
+
+The Holly leaves hang on the tree several years, and after they fall
+they lie a long time on the ground before the damp soaks through
+their leathery skin and makes them decay. You will find Holly leaves
+from which all the green part of the leaf has disappeared, leaving a
+beautiful skeleton leaf of grey fibre, which is still perfect in every
+vein and rib.
+
+The flowers of the Holly bloom in May. They appear in small crowded
+clusters between the leaf stalk and the twig, and each flower is a
+delicate pale pink on the outside, but is pure white within. There is
+a calyx cup edged with four green points, and inside this cup stands a
+long white tube, with four white petals at the top. There are four
+yellow-headed stamens, and a tiny seed-vessel is hidden inside the
+flower tube. Sometimes all these parts will be found complete in a
+single flower; sometimes there will be flowers on the same branch
+which have stamens and no seed-vessel, and others which have
+seed-vessels and no stamens. Perhaps you will find a whole tree on
+which not a single seed flower grows. This tree may be laden with
+lovely white flowers in spring, but it will bear no berries in winter.
+You must have both stamen flowers and seed flowers if the tree is to
+produce any fruit.
+
+As summer passes, the seed-vessels, which have had stamen dust
+scattered over them, become small green berries and these berries turn
+yellow and then change into a deep red, the colour of coral or sealing
+wax. The berries cluster round the green stalk, and most beautiful
+they are among the glossy dark leaves. Inside each berry there are
+four little fruit stones containing seeds, and the birds love to eat
+these red berries, which are full of mealy pulp; but remember that
+children must never eat the Holly berries, as they are poisonous
+except for the birds.
+
+You will find that if the Holly tree has a good crop of berries this
+winter there will not be many the following year; the tree seems to
+require a year's rest before it can produce a second large crop.
+
+There are some Holly trees with leaves which are shaded with pale yellow
+or white-variegated Hollies, we call them. These are greatly prized for
+planting in gardens, where the bushes with different-coloured leaves
+lend much beauty when all the trees are bare in winter.
+
+The wood of the Holly is too small to be of much use. It is white and
+very hard, and when stained black it is largely used instead of ebony,
+which is scarce and expensive. The black handles of many of our silver
+teapots are made of stained Holly wood, and the slender branches are
+good for making walking-sticks and coachmen's whips.
+
+
+
+
+THE FABLE OF THE THREE ELMS
+
+
+ The North Wind spoke to three sturdy elms,
+ And, "Now you are dead!" said he;
+ "I have blown a blast till the snow whirled past,
+ And withered your leaves, and see:
+ You are brown and old and your boughs are cold!"
+ And he sneered at the elm trees three.
+
+ The first elm spoke in a hollow tone
+ (For the snow lay deep and white,)
+ "You think we are dead, North Wind?" he said,
+ "Why we sleep--as you sleep at night.
+ Beneath the snow lie my sturdy roots,
+ They grip on the friendly earth,
+ And I rest--till another year!" said he,
+ And he shook with a noisy mirth.
+
+ The second elm laughed a hearty laugh,
+ And, "North Wind," he cried in glee,
+ "Beneath my bark glows a living spark,
+ The sap of a healthy tree;
+ My boughs are bare and my leaves are gone,
+ But--what have I to fear?
+ For the winter time is my time of rest
+ And I sleep till another year!"
+
+ The third elm spoke and his voice was sweet,
+ And kind as the summery sea;
+ "Oh, Wind!" he said, "we are far from spring--
+ The God in whose hand we be
+ Looks down, with love, from the winter sky,
+ And sends us His sun to cheer;
+ If we had no snow there would be no spring--
+ We rest till another year!"
+
+ The three elms rocked in the stinging blast,
+ And under the heavy snow
+ Their roots were warm from the raging storm,
+ And safe from the winds that blow.
+ They smiled in their hearts and their leafless boughs
+ Spread over the frosty way;
+ For they knew that the God of forest trees
+ Would watch through each winter day.
+
+ The North Wind uttered a frosty sigh,
+ As the snow blew far and free;
+ And his weary eyes sought the winter skies,
+ And, "Mighty is God!" said he.
+ "To die or live are His gifts to give!"
+ And he smiled at the elm trees three.
+
+ Margaret E. Sangster, Jr.
+
+
+
+
+THE PINE AND THE WILLOW
+
+(Japanese Tale)
+
+Mine Morishima
+
+
+In a beautiful large garden, among many kinds of trees and shrubs,
+there stood a tall fine Pine tree, and near to him, and almost as
+tall, a graceful Willow.
+
+One dark winter morning the wind blew hard and the clouds showed that
+a storm was coming soon.
+
+The Pine felt lonesome, as little children often do and thought he
+would talk to the Willow. So he said, "Friend Willow, your branches
+are trembling. I am sorry for you, for I know you are afraid of the
+storm that is coming. I wish you were like me. I am so strong nothing
+can hurt me. The frost cannot change the colour of my leaves nor the
+wind blow them off; occasionally, some old ones may fall on the
+ground, but there are always new ones to take their places--and I am
+the only tree in this large garden that is always fresh and bright. As
+for you, dear Willow, your branches all hang down, you have no leaves
+now and, as you are neither strong nor pretty and shake in such a
+little wind, of what good are you to yourself, or to any one else?"
+
+"Dear Pine," the Willow answered, "I do not tremble with fear, for I
+am not afraid, but God made me so that the wind would move my branches
+very easily, and that I should not have leaves in the winter time. By
+and by I shall have delicate green leaves and blossoms, and I thank
+Him for giving me a beautiful summer dress, even though I go bare in
+cold weather. It must be very beautiful to be strong and handsome, as
+you are, and I am happy in having so good a friend."
+
+While they were talking the wind had grown much stronger, and now the
+rain came pouring down. The Pine stood up angrily against the wind,
+scolding with a hin, hin, hin, while the Willow bent and swayed to
+and fro and all the other trees bowed their heads.
+
+Then the Pine said, "Willow, why do you not push this rude wind away
+instead of yielding to him; you are cowardly to let him abuse you so,
+when you might resist him, as I do."
+
+Then the Willow answered, "There are many ways to keep oneself from
+harm, and I do not like to resist any one with force."
+
+The Pine was vexed at the Willow and would say no more, but battled
+with the wind he could no longer hold back. Then his branches were
+torn and his top broken off; they fell to the ground and the proud
+tree was a sad sight.
+
+But the Willow bent her branches and yielded to the wind, and so was
+unhurt.
+
+The next morning, when the rain had ceased and the sun shone brightly,
+the owner of the garden came out to see how his trees had stood the
+storm. When he saw the broken Pine he thought it was too bad to have a
+broken tree in his fine garden, so he ordered the gardener to move the
+Pine into the back yard.
+
+After a time, spring came, and the Willow put forth her lovely green
+leaves and every one who passed looked at the graceful tree and said,
+"How beautiful she is, how gentle she seems!"
+
+The little birds built their nests in her branches, and soon baby
+birds came, which made the tree very happy. The butterflies danced
+around in the sunshine and all summer little children loved to play in
+the shade of the drooping Willow.
+
+And when the Pine peeped in from the back yard, and saw how happy and
+beautiful the Willow was, and how the children, the birds, and the
+butterflies loved to play about her, he thought, "If only I had been
+less proud of my own strength, then might I, too, be standing in that
+beautiful garden with my crown of leaves, and with young life all
+about me."
+
+
+
+
+WHY THE WILD RABBITS ARE WHITE IN WINTER
+
+(Algonquin Legend)
+
+Adapted from "Algonquin Indian Tales," by Egerton R. Young. Copyright,
+1903, by Egerton R. Young. Reprinted by permission of the Abington
+Press, Publishers.
+
+
+Long ago Wild Rabbit of the Northland wore a brown fur coat,
+throughout the year. Today, when the long winter months come, Wild
+Rabbit changes his coat of brown to one that is the colour of the
+snow. And this is how the change happened.
+
+Wild Rabbit could not defend himself from his many foes. Almost all
+the animals,--foxes of all kinds, wildcats, wolves, wolverines,
+weasels, and ermine hunted Wild Rabbit for food. Then there were the
+fierce birds,--the eagles, hawks, and owls--that were always on the
+lookout for rabbits, young or old. The result was that with this war
+continually waged against them, the poor rabbits had a hard time of
+it, especially in winter. They found it very difficult to hide
+themselves when the leaves were off the trees and the ground was
+covered with snow.
+
+In those days of long ago the animals used to have a large council.
+There was a great father at the head of each kind of animal and bird,
+and these leaders used to meet and talk about the welfare of their
+kind. There was always peace and friendship among them while at the
+council. They appointed a king and he presided as chief. All the
+animals that had troubles or grievances had a right to come and speak
+about them at the council, and if it were possible, all wrongs were
+remedied.
+
+Sometimes queer things were said. At one council the bear found great
+fault with the fox who had deceived him and had caused him to lose his
+beautiful tail by telling him to go and catch fish with it in a big
+crack in the ice. The bear sat fishing so long that the crack froze up
+solidly and, to save his life, the bear had to break off his tail.
+
+But all the things they talked about were not so funny as the bear's
+complaint. They had their troubles and dangers and they discussed
+various plans for improving their condition; also, they considered how
+they could best defeat the skill and cleverness of the human hunters.
+
+At one of the council meetings, when the rabbit's turn to be heard
+came, he said that his people were nearly all destroyed, that the rest
+of the world seemed to be combined against his race and they were
+killing them by day and night, in summer and winter. Also, he declared
+that the rabbits had little power to fight against enemies, and,
+therefore, his people were almost discouraged, but they had sent him
+to the council to see if the members could suggest any remedy or plan
+to save the rabbit race from complete destruction.
+
+While the rabbit was speaking the wolverine winked at the wildcat,
+while the fox, although he tried to look solemn, could not keep his
+mouth from watering as he thought of the many rabbits he intended to
+eat.
+
+Thus it can be seen that the rabbit did not get much sympathy from his
+enemies in the council. But his friends,--the moose, the reindeer,
+and the mountain goat--stood up in the meeting and spoke out bravely
+for their little friend. Indeed, they told the animals that had
+laughed at the little rabbit's sad story that if they continued to
+kill all the rabbits they could find there would soon be none left.
+Then these cruel animals would be the greatest sufferers, for what
+else could they find to eat in sufficient numbers to keep them alive,
+if the rabbits were all gone?
+
+This thought sobered the thoughtless animals at first but they soon
+resumed their mocking at the poor little rabbit and his story. As they
+happened to be in the majority, the council refused to do anything in
+the matter.
+
+When the moose heard the decision of the council he was very sorry for
+his poor little brother rabbit. He lowered his head and told the
+rabbit to jump on one of his flat horns. The moose then carried him
+some distance away from the council and said, "There is no hope for
+you here. Most of the animals live on you and so they will not do
+anything that will make it more difficult for you to be caught than
+it now is. Your only hope is to go to Manabozho, and see what he can
+do for you. His name was once Manabush, which means Great Rabbit, so I
+am sure he will be your friend because I think he is a distant
+relative of yours."
+
+Away sped the rabbit along the route described by the moose, who had
+lately found out where Manabozho was stopping.
+
+The rabbit was such a timid creature that, when he came near to
+Manabozho, he was much afraid that he would not be welcomed. However,
+his case was desperate, and although his heart was thumping with fear
+he hurried along to have the matter decided as soon as possible.
+
+To his great joy he found Manabozho in the best humour and the little
+creature was received most kindly. The great Master saw how weary the
+little rabbit was after the long journey so he made the little fellow
+rest on some fragrant grass in the sunshine. Then Manabozho went out
+and brought in some of the choicest things in his garden for the
+rabbit.
+
+"Tell me all your troubles, little brother," said Manabozho. "Also,
+tell me about the council meeting."
+
+The rabbit repeated his story and told all about the treatment he had
+received at the council.
+
+When the Great Master heard how unjustly the little rabbit had been
+treated he grew very angry and said, "And that is the way they treated
+little brother rabbit at the council we have given them, is it? And
+they know we expect them to give the smallest and weakest the same
+kind of justice as they offer the biggest and strongest! It is high
+time for some one to report the council news to me if such unfair
+meetings take place. Look out, Mr. Fox, Mr. Wolverine, and Mr.
+Wildcat, for if I take you in hand you'll be sorry little brother
+rabbit was obliged to come to Manabozho for help."
+
+The Great Master had worked himself up into such a furious temper that
+the rabbit was frightened almost to death. But when Manabozho saw this
+he laughed and said, "I'm sorry to have frightened you, little
+brother. But I was so very angry with those animals for ill-treating
+you that I forgot myself. And now tell me what you wish me to do for
+you?"
+
+After a long talk about the matter it was decided that there should be
+two great changes made. First, the eyes of the rabbit should be so
+increased in power that in the future they would be able to see by
+night as well as by day. Second, in all the Northland where much snow
+falls during many months of the year the rabbits of that region should
+change their coats for the winter season into a beautiful white colour
+like the snow.
+
+And the rabbits of the Northland now have a much better time than they
+had formerly. In their soft white coats they can glide away from their
+enemies, or they can sometimes escape notice by remaining perfectly
+still on the white earth. (_Adapted._)
+
+
+
+
+THE YEW
+
+Janet Harvey Kelman
+
+
+Once upon a time a discontented Yew tree grew in a wood. Other trees,
+it thought, had larger and more beautiful leaves which fluttered in
+the breeze and became red and brown and yellow in the sunshine, and
+the Yew tree pined because the fairies had given it such an
+unattractive dress. One morning the sunshine disclosed that all its
+green leaves had changed into leaves made of gold, and the heart of
+the Yew tree danced with happiness. But some robbers, as they stole
+through the forest, were attracted by the glitter, and stripped off
+every golden leaf. Again the tree bemoaned its fate, and next day the
+sun shone on leaves of purest crystal. "How beautiful!" thought the
+tree; "see how I sparkle!" But a hailstorm burst from the clouds, and
+the sparkling leaves lay shivered on the grass. Once more the good
+fairies tried to comfort the unhappy tree. Smooth broad leaves covered
+its branches, and the Yew tree flaunted these gay banners in the wind.
+But, alas, a flock of goats came by and ate of the fresh young leaves
+"a million and ten." "Give me back again my old dress," sobbed the
+Yew, "for I see that it was best." And ever since its leaves remain
+unchanging, and it wears the sombre dress which covered its boughs in
+the days when King William landed from Normandy on our shores, and the
+swineherd tended his pigs in the great forests which covered so much
+of Merry England.
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE PINE TREE DID SOME GOOD
+
+Samuel W. Duffield
+
+
+It was a long narrow valley where the Pine Tree stood, and perhaps if
+you want to look for it you might find it there today. For pine trees
+live a long time, and this one was not very old.
+
+The valley was quite barren. Nothing grew there but a few scrubby
+bushes; and, to tell the truth, it was about as desolate a place as
+you can well imagine. Far up over it hung the great, snowy caps of the
+Rocky Mountains, where the clouds played hide and seek all day, and
+chased each other merrily across the snow. There was a little stream,
+too, that gathered itself up among the snows and came running down the
+side of the mountain; but for all that the valley was very dreary.
+
+Once in a while there went a large grey rabbit, hopping among the
+sagebushes; but look as far as you could you would find no more
+inhabitants. Poor, solitary little valley, with not even a cottonwood
+down by the stream, and hardly enough grass to furnish three oxen with
+a meal! Poor, barren little valley lying always for half the day in
+the shadow of those tall cliffs--burning under the summer sun, heaped
+high with the winter snows--lying there year after year without a
+friend! Yes, it had two friends, though they could do it but little
+good, for they were two pine trees. The one nearest the mountain,
+hanging quite out of reach in a cleft of the rock, was an old, gnarled
+tree, which had stood there for a hundred years. The other was
+younger, with bright green foliage, summer and winter. It curled up
+the ends of its branches, as if it would like to have you understand
+that it was a very fine, hardy fellow, even if it wasn't as old as its
+father up there in the cleft of the rock.
+
+Now the young Pine Tree grew very lonesome at times, and was glad to
+talk with any persons who came along, and they were few, I can tell
+you. Occasionally, it would look lovingly up to the father pine, and
+wonder if it could make him hear what it said. It would rustle its
+branches and shout by the hour, but the father pine heard him only
+once, and then the words were so mixed with falling snow that it was
+really impossible to say what they meant.
+
+So the Pine Tree was very lonesome and no wonder. "I wish I knew of
+what good I am," he said to the grey rabbit one day. "I wish I
+knew,--I wish I knew," and he rustled his branches until they all
+seemed to say, "Wish I knew--wish I knew."
+
+"O pshaw!" said the rabbit, "I wouldn't concern myself much about
+that. Some day you'll find out."
+
+"But do tell me," persisted the Pine Tree, "of what good you think I
+am."
+
+"Well," answered the rabbit, sitting up on her hind paws and washing
+her face with her front ones, in order that company shouldn't see her
+unless she looked trim and tidy--"well," said the rabbit, "I can't
+exactly say myself what it is. If you don't help one, you help
+another--and that's right enough, isn't it? As for me, I take care of
+my family. I hop around among the sagebushes and get their breakfast
+and dinner and supper. I have plenty to do, I assure you, and you must
+really excuse me now, for I have to be off."
+
+"I wish I was a hare," muttered the Pine Tree to himself, "I think I
+could do some good then, for I should have a family to support, but I
+know I can't now."
+
+Then he called across to the little stream and asked the same question
+of him. And the stream rippled along, and danced in the sunshine, and
+answered him. "I go on errands for the big mountain all day. I carried
+one of your cones not long ago to a point of land twenty miles off,
+and there now is a pine tree that looks just like you. But I must run
+along, I am so busy. I can't tell you of what good you are. You must
+wait and see." And the little stream danced on.
+
+"I wish I were a stream," thought the Pine Tree. "Anything but being
+tied down to this spot for years. That is unfair. The rabbit can run
+around, and so can the stream; but I must stand still forever. I wish
+I were dead."
+
+By and by the summer passed into autumn, and the autumn into winter,
+and the snowflakes began to fall.
+
+"Halloo!" said the first one, all in a flutter, as she dropped on the
+Pine Tree. But he shook her off, and she fell still farther down on
+the ground. The Pine Tree was getting very churlish and cross lately.
+
+However, the snow didn't stop for all that and very soon there was a
+white robe over all the narrow valley. The Pine Tree had no one to
+talk with now. The stream had covered himself in with ice and snow,
+and wasn't to be seen.
+
+The hare had to hop around very industriously to get enough for her
+children to eat; and the sagebushes were always low-minded fellows and
+couldn't begin to keep up a ten-minutes' conversation.
+
+At last there came a solitary figure across the valley, making its way
+straight for the Pine Tree. It was a lame mule, which had been left
+behind from some wagon-train. He dragged himself slowly on till he
+reached the tree. Now the Pine, in shaking off the snow, had shaken
+down some cones as well, and they lay on the snow. These the mule
+picked up and began to eat.
+
+"Heigh ho!" said the tree, "I never knew those things were fit to eat
+before."
+
+"Didn't you?" replied the mule. "Why I have lived on these things, as
+you call them, ever since I left the wagons. I am going back on the
+Oregon Trail, and I sha'n't see you again. Accept my thanks for
+breakfast. Good-bye."
+
+And he moved off to the other end of the valley and disappeared among
+the rocks.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed the Pine Tree. "That's something, at all events."
+And he shook down a number of cones on the snow. He was really happier
+than he had ever been before,--and with good reason, too.
+
+After a while there appeared three people. They were a family of
+Indians,--a father, a mother, and a little child. They, too, went
+straight to the tree.
+
+"We'll stay here," said the father, looking across at the snow-covered
+bed of the stream and up at the Pine Tree. He was very poorly
+clothed, this Indian. He and his wife and the child had on dresses of
+hare-skins, and they possessed nothing more of any account, except bow
+and arrows, and a stick with a net on the end. They had no lodge
+poles, and not even a dog. They were very miserable and hungry. The
+man threw down his bow and arrows not far from the tree. Then he began
+to clear away the snow in a circle and to pull up the sagebushes.
+These he and the woman built into a round, low hut, and then they
+lighted a fire within it. While it was beginning to burn the man went
+to the stream and broke a hole in the ice. Tying a string to his
+arrow, he shot a fish which came up to breathe, and, after putting it
+on the coals, they all ate it half-raw. They never noticed the Pine
+Tree, though he scattered down at least a dozen more cones.
+
+At last night came on, cold and cheerless. The wind blew savagely
+through the valleys, and howled at the Pine Tree, for they were old
+enemies. Oh, it was a bitter night, but finally the morning broke!
+More snow had fallen and heaped up against the hut so that you could
+hardly tell that it was there. The stream had frozen tighter than
+before and the man could not break a hole in the ice again. The
+sagebushes were all hid by the drifts, and the Indians could find none
+to burn.
+
+Then they turned to the Pine Tree. How glad he was to help them! They
+gathered up the cones and roasted the seeds on the fire. They cut
+branches from the tree and burned them, and so kept up the warmth in
+their hut.
+
+The Pine Tree began to find himself useful, and he told the hare so
+one morning when she came along. But she saw the Indian's hut, and did
+not stop to reply. She had put on her winter coat of white, yet the
+Indian had seen her in spite of all her care. He followed her over the
+snow with his net, and caught her among the drifts. Poor Pine Tree!
+She was almost his only friend, and when he saw her eaten and her skin
+taken for the child's mantle, he was very sorrowful, you may be sure.
+He saw that if the Indians stayed there, he, too, would have to die,
+for they would in time burn off all his branches, and use all his
+cones; but he was doing good at last, and he was content.
+
+Day after day passed by,--some bleak, some warm,--and the winter moved
+slowly along. The Indians only went from their hut to the Pine Tree
+now. He gave them fire and food, and the snow was their drink. He was
+smaller than before, for many branches were gone, but he was happier
+than ever.
+
+One day the sun came out more warmly, and it seemed as if spring was
+near. The Indian man broke a hole in the ice, and got more fish. The
+Indian woman caught a rabbit. The Indian child gathered sagebushes
+from under the fast-melting snow and made a hotter fire to cook the
+feast. And they did feast, and then they went away.
+
+The Pine Tree had found out his mission. He had helped to save three
+lives.
+
+In the summer there came along a band of explorers, and one, the
+botanist of the party, stopped beside our Pine Tree:
+
+"This," said he in his big words, "is the Pinus Monophyllus, otherwise
+known as the Bread Pine." He looked at the deserted hut and passed his
+hand over his forehead.
+
+"How strange it is," said he. "This Pine Tree must have kept a whole
+family from cold and starvation last winter. There are very few of us
+who have done as much good as that." And when he went away, he waved
+his hand to the tree and thanked God in his heart that it grew there.
+And the Bread Pine waved his branches in return, and said to himself
+as he gazed after the departing band: "I will never complain again,
+for I have found out what a pleasant thing it is to do good, and I
+know now that every one in his lifetime can do a little of it."
+
+
+
+
+A WONDERFUL WEAVER
+
+
+ There's a wonderful weaver
+ High up in the air,
+ And he weaves a white mantle
+ For cold earth to wear.
+ With the wind for his shuttle,
+ The cloud for his loom,
+ How he weaves, how he weaves,
+ In the light, in the gloom.
+
+ Oh, with finest of laces,
+ He decks bush and tree;
+ On the bare, flinty meadows
+ A cover lays he.
+ Then a quaint cap he places
+ On pillar and post,
+ And he changes the pump
+ To a grim, silent ghost.
+
+ But this wonderful weaver
+ Grows weary at last;
+ And the shuttle lies idle
+ That once flew so fast.
+ Then the sun peeps abroad
+ On the work that is done;
+ And he smiles: "I'll unravel
+ It all, just for fun."
+
+ George Cooper.
+
+
+
+
+THE PINE AND THE FLAX
+
+Albrekt Segerstedt
+
+
+Just where a forest ended grew a pine tree taller and more beautiful
+than all the others in the forest. Far away could be seen its feathery
+round crown, whose soft branches waved so gracefully when the wind
+blew across the plain.
+
+At the foot of the pine tree the fields of grain began.
+
+Here the farmer sowed seeds of many kinds, but the flax was sowed
+nearest the pine. It came up beautiful and even, and the pine thought
+a great deal of the slender green thing.
+
+The flax stalk raised itself higher and higher, and near the close of
+summer it bore a little blue helmet on his head.
+
+"Thou art so beautiful!" said the tall pine.
+
+The flax bowed itself low, but raised again so gracefully that it
+looked like a billowy sea.
+
+The pine and the flax often talked to each other and became great
+friends.
+
+"What folly!" said the other forest trees to the pine. "Do not have
+anything to do with the flax; it is so weak. Choose the tall spruce or
+the birch tree. They are strong."
+
+But the pine would not desert the flax.
+
+The thistle and other small plants talked to the flax.
+
+"You are crazy to think of the lofty pine. It does not trouble itself
+about you. It is tall and proud. Children of a size play best
+together. Think of the bush and vine and content yourself."
+
+"I shall trust the pine," replied the flax. "It is honourable and
+faithful and I am fond of it."
+
+So the pine and the flax remained friends.
+
+Time passed and the flax was pulled up and made into ropes and cloth.
+The pine was felled and its trunk carried to the city. But the pine
+and flax did not forget each other, though neither knew where the
+other was.
+
+A large, beautiful ship was launched upon the water. On this the pine
+tree was erected as a mast, and on the highest part waved a flag.
+
+Then came a great white sail to help the mast carry the proud ship
+forward. It wrapped itself around the mast, spread itself out like a
+great wing, and caught the wind on its wide curve.
+
+The sail had been woven of linen that grew as flax out in the field on
+the edge of the wood. And the two friends had met again.
+
+Clasping each other faithfully, out over the foaming billows they went
+to new lands. It was life, it was pleasure to go on united as friends.
+
+The winds took a message back to the forest.
+
+"Who would have believed it?" said the spruce and the birch.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIR TREE
+
+
+ O singing Wind
+ Searching field and wood,
+ Cans't thou find
+ Aught that's sweet or good--
+ Flowers, to kiss awake,
+ Or dewy grass, to shake,
+ Or feathered seed
+ Aloft to speed?
+
+ Replies the wind:
+ "I cannot find
+ Flowers, to kiss awake,
+ Or dewy grass to shake,
+ Or feathered seed
+ Aloft to speed;
+ Yet I meet
+ Something sweet,
+ When the scented fir,--
+ Balsam-breathing fir--
+ In my flight I stir."
+
+ Edith M. Thomas.
+
+
+
+
+WHY BRUIN HAS A STUMPY TAIL
+
+(Norwegian Legend)
+
+
+Once upon a time a sly fox lived in a deep forest which bordered a
+river. One fine winter day he was lying in the sun near a brush heap
+with his eyes closed, and he was thinking: "It has been several days
+since I had a dainty supper. How I should enjoy a fine large fish this
+evening. I'll slip over to the edge of the forest and watch the
+fishermen as they go home with their day's catch. Perhaps good luck
+will do something for me."
+
+Now one old man had caught a very fine lot of fish of all sizes.
+Indeed, he had so many that he was obliged to hire a cart in which to
+carry them home. He was driving along slowly when suddenly he noticed
+a red fox crouched under the bush near the road. He stopped his horse,
+jumped down from the cart, and carefully crept near the spot where he
+had seen Master Reynard. The fox did not open his eyes nor move a
+muscle.
+
+"Well," said the old fisherman, "I do believe he is dead! What a fine
+coat he has. I will take him home and give him to my wife for a
+present." He lifted the fox and put him into the cart among the fish.
+The old man then mounted to his seat and drove merrily on, thinking
+how pleased his wife would be with the fine fish and the fox. When
+they were well on their way, the sly fox threw one fish after another
+out of the cart until all lay scattered along on the road; then he
+slipped out of the cart.
+
+When the old man reached his cottage, he called out to his wife, "Come
+and see the fine fish I caught to-day. And I have brought you a
+beautiful gift, also."
+
+His wife hurried to the cart and said, "Where are the fish, my
+husband, and where is my present?"
+
+"Why, there in the cart," he replied.
+
+"In the cart!" exclaimed his wife. "Why, there is nothing here;
+neither fish nor present, so far as I can see."
+
+The old man looked and to his great surprise and disappointment he
+discovered that what his wife said was true.
+
+Meanwhile, the sly fox had gathered up the fish and had taken them to
+the forest in order to enjoy a fine supper. Presently he heard a
+pleasant voice saying, "Good evening, Brother Reynard."
+
+He looked up and saw his friend Bruin. "Oh, good evening to you,"
+answered the fox. "I have been fishing to-day, and, as you see, luck
+certainly attended me."
+
+"It did, indeed," answered the bear. "Could you not spare me one fish?
+I should consider the gift a great favor."
+
+"Oh," answered the fox, "why don't you go fishing yourself? I assure
+you when one becomes a fisherman, he thoroughly enjoys the fruits of
+patience."
+
+"Go fishing, my friend," said Bruin, in astonishment. "That is
+impossible. I know nothing about catching fish, I assure you."
+
+"Pooh, it is very easy, especially in the winter time when ice nearly
+covers the river. Let me tell you what to do. Make a hole in the ice
+and stick your tail down into it. Hold it there just as long as you
+can and keep saying, 'Come, little fish; come, big fish.' Don't mind
+if the tail smarts a little; that only means that you have a bite, and
+I assure you the longer you hold it there the more fish you will
+catch. Then all at once, out with your tail. Give a strong pull
+sideways, then upward, and you'll have enough fish to last you several
+days. But mind you, follow my directions closely."
+
+"Oh, my friend, I am very grateful for your kind information," said
+Bruin, and off he went to the river where he proceeded to follow
+Master Fox's directions.
+
+In a short time sly Reynard passed by, and when he saw Bruin patiently
+sitting on the ice with his tail in a hole, he laughed until his sides
+ached. He said, wickedly, under his breath: "A clear sky, a clear sky!
+Bruin's tail will freeze, Bruin's tail will freeze."
+
+"What did you say, my friend?" asked the bear.
+
+"Oh, I was making a wish," replied the fox.
+
+All night long Bruin sat there, fishing patiently. Then he decided to
+go home. How very heavy his tail felt. He thought to himself that all
+the fish in the river must be fastened there. In a little while the
+women of the village came to get water from the river, and when they
+saw the bear, they called out at the top of their voices: "Come, come!
+A bear, a bear! Kill him! Kill him!"
+
+The men came quickly with great sticks in their hands. Poor Bruin gave
+a short pull sideways and his tail snapped off short. He made off to
+the woods as fast as he could go, but to this day he goes about with a
+stumpy tail.
+
+
+
+
+PINES AND FIRS
+
+Mrs. Dyson
+
+
+Pines and firs! Who knows the difference between a pine and a fir!
+These trees are first cousins; they often dwell together in our woods;
+they are evergreen; they have narrow, pointed leaves; and they bear
+cones, and so we often call them all firs, as if they were brothers.
+This may satisfy strangers and passers-by who only turn their heads
+and say: "Ah! a fir wood," but it will not be sufficient for the
+friends of the trees. Pines and firs are as different as oaks and
+beeches; and who would not be ashamed to take a beech for an oak!
+
+A fir is the shape of a church steeple or a spear-head about to cleave
+the sky. The lowermost branches come out in a ring and spread out
+straight and stiff like the spokes of a wheel. Above this whorl is
+another of shorter branches still, and so on, till the top ring is
+quite a little one round a pointed shoot. The little shoots fork out
+on each side of the big branches, and like them are set closely with
+leaves. These shoots do not point up to the sky nor down to the earth;
+they spread out flat, so that the branch looks like a huge fern.
+
+Pines begin to grow like firs; but as they shoot up side by side in
+the woods, their lower branches drop off for want of air and sunshine,
+and their upper branches spread out wider. A fir is a pyramid with a
+pointed top; but a full-grown pine has a flat top, and often a tall,
+bare trunk, so that it looks like a great umbrella. A famous Roman
+writer, Pliny, said that the smoke of a volcano was like a pine tree.
+The smoke shoots up in a great pillar from the mouth of the fiery
+mountain, and then spreads itself out in a black cap.
+
+You have often amused yourselves with finding pictures in the clouds.
+Have you seen a pillar of mist rise up from the horizon, the meeting
+line of the earth and sky, and then lose itself in a soft cloud? The
+country people in some parts of Europe call this cloud-form
+_Abraham's tree_ or _Adam's tree_, because it is so like a pine tree.
+When the clouds break up into the soft, white, fleecy ripples that we
+call a mackerel sky, they say, "We shall have wind, for Adam's tree is
+putting forth leaves."
+
+The pine trees dress themselves in long, blue-green, rounded needles
+set in bundles of two, three, or more, bristling out all round their
+branches; but the fir trees wear short, narrow, flat leaves of a
+yellow-green colour, set singly each one by itself. These fir leaves
+come out all round the stem just as pine leaves do, but they are
+parted down the middle as we sometimes part our hair, so that they
+spread out flat in two thick rows.
+
+Mr. Ruskin calls the pines and firs and their relations the builders
+with the sword, because of their narrow, pointed leaves, and the
+broad-leaved trees he calls the builders with the shield. The trees of
+the sword stand erect on the hills like armed soldiers prepared for
+war; while the trees of the shield spread themselves in the valleys to
+shelter the fields and pastures.
+
+Why do these mountain trees have such narrow leaves? Can you find out
+a reason? Perhaps this is one: when the great, strong wind is raging
+with all his force, he will not suffer any resistance but breaks down
+everything that tries to stay him in his course; if he meets broad
+leaves and heavy branches, he hurls them out of his way, but he just
+whistles through the slender leaves and branches of the pines and
+firs, and scarcely knows they are there.
+
+When you gather the cones in the wood, you may know at once whether
+they have fallen from pine trees or from fir trees. A pine cone looks
+like a single piece of carved solid wood until it opens, and then each
+hard scale shows a thick, square head; but the fir cones are made of
+broad, papery scales, with thin edges laid neatly one over the other.
+
+Now you will never have any difficulty in knowing the pines from the
+firs, even in the far distance--colour, form, dress, fruit, all are
+different.
+
+How is it we make a mistake, and call the Scotch pine by the name of
+Scotch fir? Perhaps it is because this tree is the only one of the
+great pine and fir family that is a real native of Britain. Our
+stay-at-home ancestors who lived above three hundred years ago never
+saw a real fir, and so their one pine had to represent all its
+relations. They knew it perhaps better than we do, for in their days
+there were many forests that have since been cut down to make room for
+houses and gardens and fields.
+
+Sometimes when you have been walking over the moorland you have run to
+gather some bright yellow moss, and have suddenly found your foot
+sinking into wet, black mud, and you have heard stories of men and
+horses sucked down by just such dreadful slime. Hundreds of years ago
+forests stood where now lie these dangerous bogs, and the trees and
+shrubs rotting and decaying in the wet have changed into black, brown
+swamps. Many bogs have been drained, and the trunks of pine trees have
+been found in them standing as they grew. In one bog in Yorkshire pine
+trees were found sawn across and left to lie and rot. Who felled these
+trees which have been lying there hundreds of years? Can we tell? Yes;
+for among the trees are scattered axe-heads and Roman coins, and we
+are able to picture the old story of the place. There was once a
+forest there, and the ancient Britons hid themselves in its shelter,
+and the Romans cut down the trees to drive them from their
+hiding-place.
+
+There are two common kinds of firs which you will find in the woods.
+One is the spruce fir, a very prim and proper tree, with slightly
+curving branches turned up at the tips. It looks as if the branches
+had been all cut to a pattern, and their length and the distances
+between them carefully measured. When you have been washed and brushed
+and pulled and straightened, and had every hair and bow set in its
+proper place, so that you look particularly trim and neat, you
+sometimes laugh and call one another _spruce_, like the spruce fir.
+
+Some people think the name "spruce" means the _pruce_, or Prussian
+tree; others say it means the sprouting tree, the tree that sprouts at
+the ends of its branches. In some countries these bright-green sprouts
+are cut off and made into a kind of beer called spruce beer.
+
+The spruce fir is at home on the high mountains of Europe where it
+often grows one hundred and fifty feet high. You long for the time
+when you will be taken to Switzerland to see the snow-capped Alps.
+Then standing out against the white snow and the glittering ice rivers
+you will see the dark spruce forests. This fir is also at home in
+Norway and the cold lands of the North, and so we call it the Norway
+Spruce to distinguish it from other kinds of spruce fir that grow in
+America. In Norway many old men and women earn a living by gathering
+and selling in the markets pieces of fir for the people to strew on
+the graves as we do flowers.
+
+What sort of cones has the spruce? Can you find some in the fir wood?
+They are five or six inches long and perhaps two inches thick. You
+will see them hanging from the ends of the upper branches, and perhaps
+you may find some empty ones on the ground. Look at them. Those thin
+scales are very different from the tough walls of the pine cone: each
+one is shaped off to a point, and this point is divided into two sharp
+teeth.
+
+Perhaps when you are looking for the cones, you will find growing fast
+to the branches among the leaves some fanciful things that look like
+little cones. These are very gay; every scale has a border of crimson
+velvet and a green spine in the middle of its back, like a little
+tusk. If you open them you will find some brown, soft things inside.
+Do you know what they are? Perhaps, if you have not already made
+friends with the real cone, you will think these are seeds; but some
+of you are growing wise, and know that you have intruded into a little
+nest of insects. If you tie a net round the branch and keep watch, you
+may see them come out. Their mother pierced a hole in a brown bud last
+autumn and laid her eggs there; then when the buds burst in spring the
+lower leaves grew fast together and made this comfortable house, and
+those green tusks you see are the leaf points.
+
+But what is the other kind of fir that grows in our wood? It is rather
+like the spruce in shape, but it is not quite so stiff and prim and
+proper, and underneath each little leaf there are two silver lines,
+and so we call this the silver fir. You may always know it from the
+spruce by these silver lines. Each stiff little leaf has its edges
+rolled under as if ready for hemming, and there is a thick green rib
+down the middle of the under side, so the silver lining just peeps out
+in single streaks between the rib and the hems.
+
+The spring tufts of the Norway spruce are of a bright yellow-green;
+those of the silver fir are paler and softer in tint, more like the
+primrose. When the sulphur butterfly lights on them we lose sight of
+him, so he flits from one to another, feeling quite safe, and keeping
+carefully away from those dark old leaves where he would be pounced
+upon at once.
+
+The silver fir does not let its cones hang down; it holds them proudly
+erect on its branches; like little towers often eight inches high. We
+wonder how such slender twigs can hold up such large cones. They look
+like hairy giants, for their scales do not end in two little teeth,
+but in a long point which turns back and bends downwards.
+
+The silver fir does not like quite such cold places as the spruce and
+the Scotch pine; it dwells lower down the mountain sides, and is at
+home in Central Europe.
+
+All the pines and firs, like the Scotch pine, have those wonderful
+pipes and reservoirs of sticky turpentine juice inside their bark, but
+each kind of fir has its own way of making its stores, and so we get
+different kinds of resin and turpentine and balsams from different
+trees.
+
+It is these stores of resin that make the pine wood burn so brightly.
+The Highland chief needed no gas for his great illuminations; he had
+only to call his followers to hold up branches of blazing pine. It is
+not very wise to light a picnic fire in a pine or fir wood, for
+sometimes a few sparks will set a whole forest in flames.
+
+_Fir_--_fire_: how much alike these two words are! Do you think they
+must have some connection with one another? Were the first fires made
+of fir wood? or was this tree called fir because it made such good
+fires? These words are so old that we can only guess their history.
+
+Those of you who like pretty things have often fingered admiringly
+some bright, shining necklace of amber beads. The pieces of amber
+from which those beads were cut were picked up on the shores of the
+Baltic Sea, and it is supposed that once upon a time some great pines
+or firs dropped their gummy juice and this hardened into these
+beautiful transparent stones.
+
+Pines and firs are some of our greatest tree givers. They seem never
+tired of giving. Can you think of anything that is made of pine or fir
+wood? Perhaps you remember hearing that the seats or panels or
+ceilings in your school or church were of the wood of an American pine
+called the pitch pine. But common fir wood has a name of its own. Who
+has not heard of _deal_? A _deal_ is a part or portion, and so we talk
+of a great deal of something meaning a large portion. Our fir wood
+comes in great quantities from Norway and Germany, where it is first
+cut and sawn into planks. Each plank is a _deal_--that is, a portion
+of the wood. It has been easy to leave out the article and call the
+wood _deal_.
+
+Our white deal comes from the firs, chiefly from the Norway spruce.
+The darker-coloured deal is the gift of the Scotch pine.
+
+How can the great trees be carried from the mountain-tops, do you
+suppose? The streams are the carriers; they float the great trunks
+down to the rivers, where they are tied together in great rafts and
+floated on again to their new home, or to the seaport from which they
+can be shipped to foreign lands. Sometimes when the nearest stream is
+at a long distance from the trees, a wooden slide is made to it. In
+the winter, water is poured down the slide, and when it freezes the
+trees easily shoot down the slippery way to the stream. Oh, what fun
+it must be! You would like to be there to see. In the year 1810, when
+all Europe was at war with the great Emperor Napoleon, the deal
+traffic on the Baltic Sea was stopped. What was to be done? Near the
+Lake of Lucerne there is a high mountain, called Mont Pilate, covered
+with great forests of pine and fir. If these could only be cut down
+and brought to the lake, they could easily be floated down the Rhine
+to the sea. So a tremendous slide was made from Mont Pilate to the
+lake. It was six feet broad, and from three to six feet deep, and
+eight miles long, and twenty-five thousand pine trees were used in
+making it. When water had been poured down and had frozen, the great
+trunks were started one at a time. Away they shot, and reached the
+lake, eight miles off, in six minutes, and in wet weather, when the
+slide was very slippery, they were only three minutes on the way.
+
+Look at the deal planks on the floor of your room. Do you see those
+dark knots? They show you where once branches sprang out of the trunk.
+Many of these decayed and dropped off while quite young, and a little
+store of juice prepared for the branch gathered into the knot and
+turned it brown and dark. You will often find the knots in pairs,
+showing you how the branches grew opposite one another.
+
+These long straight lines in the plank that we call the _grain_ show
+the rings of wood made by the pine tree year by year.
+
+How astonished you would be if suddenly out of that plank a great
+insect were to creep and spread out its wings. This sometimes
+happens, to the alarm of the people in the room, but only when the
+wood is new and has been used too soon, before it was properly dried
+and seasoned. The insect looks very formidable, for it has a long,
+pointed weapon at the end of its body, but it is quite harmless. It is
+called the _giant sirex_, and it looks something like a wasp or
+hornet. With its weapon it pierces holes in the pine tree bark and
+lays its eggs there. The grubs eat great tunnels in the trunk, and
+when they are full grown they creep nearly to the outside, and there
+wait till they are changed and their wings are ready before they creep
+out. Sometimes while they wait the tree is cut down and then they are
+either sawn in two or left inside the plank.
+
+We often see young fir trees in a very strange place, bearing
+wonderful fruit of gold and silver shining lights, and glittering
+toys.
+
+ "The fir tree stood
+ In a beautiful room;
+ A hundred tapers
+ Dispelled the gloom.
+
+ All decked with gold and silver was he,
+ And lilies and roses so fair to see.
+ Hurrah for the fir tree, the Christmas tree;
+ A prince in all the forests is he!
+
+ The little children
+ With merry shout
+ Came crowding, clustering
+ Round about.
+
+ Brighter and rounder grew their eyes,
+ And they gazed at the fir in glad surprise.
+ Hurrah for the fir tree, the Christmas tree;
+ A prince in all the forests is he!"
+
+
+
+
+WHO LOVES THE TREES BEST?
+
+
+ Who loves trees best?
+ "I," said the spring,
+ "Their leaves so beautiful
+ To them I bring."
+
+ Who loves the trees best?
+ "I," summer said,
+ "I give them blossoms,
+ White, yellow, red."
+
+ Who loves the trees best?
+ "I," said the fall,
+ "I give luscious fruits,
+ Bright tints to all!"
+
+ Who loves the trees best?
+ "I love them best,"
+ Harsh winter answered,
+ "I give them rest."
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS EVERYWHERE
+
+
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS SONG
+
+
+ Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night!
+ Christmas in lands of fir tree and pine;
+ Christmas in lands of palm tree and vine,
+ Christmas where snow peaks stand solemn and white;
+ Christmas where cornfields lie sunny and bright;
+ Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night!
+
+ Christmas where children are hopeful and gay;
+ Christmas where old men are patient and grey;
+ Christmas where peace like a dove in its flight,
+ Broods over brave men in the thick of the fight;
+ Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night.
+
+ Phillips Brooks.
+
+
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD MAIDEN'S GIFT
+
+(Eastern Legend)
+
+
+In the quiet midnight, peace brooded over the fields where the
+shepherds were watching their flocks. The tinkling of sheepbells, the
+bleating of lambs, and the barking of watchdogs had gradually ceased.
+Around a large campfire several shepherds lay resting, for they had
+had a long, hard day. Each had beside him a strong shepherd's crook
+and a stout club ready for use in case any lurking danger threatened
+the beloved flocks.
+
+Not far away from the campfire a shepherd maiden lay sleeping in the
+rude shelter of a rocky cave. All day long she had helped her father
+guard the sheep, and when darkness fell over the fields and hills, she
+was glad to lie down in her snug bed made of the fleecy skins of kids
+and lambs.
+
+Suddenly a light filled the cave and wakened the maiden. Thinking it
+was daybreak, she sprang up, stepped to the rude doorway, and pushed
+aside the curtain of goatskin.
+
+"What has happened?" she whispered.
+
+The fields and hills were flooded with light. The group of shepherds
+were standing close together, gazing intently at the luminous eastern
+sky. A moment later she saw them fall on their knees in worship. There
+in the entrance of her rude shelter, she, too, knelt and prayed.
+Clearly she saw the shining angel appear and in the peaceful stillness
+of the night she heard these words:
+
+"Be not afraid; for, behold, I bring good tidings of great joy which
+shall be to all the people: for there is born to you this day, in the
+city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be
+the sign unto you: ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes
+and lying in a manger."
+
+And suddenly there was with the angel many, many others. Together they
+lifted up their voices in praise and sang,
+
+ "Glory to God in the highest,
+ Peace on earth
+ Good will toward men."
+
+When the sweet music died away, the maiden rose to her feet and joined
+the shepherds.
+
+"I saw the angel, Father, and heard the singing," she whispered.
+
+"Christ, the Lord, is born," answered her father.
+
+"Let us hasten to Bethlehem and see the Heavenly Child who fulfills
+the promise of God," said one of the shepherds.
+
+"Shall we leave our flocks?" asked another. But the question was not
+answered.
+
+"Come, let us see what gifts we have to carry to the Christ-child,"
+said the shepherd who first saw the light in the sky.
+
+In a few moments these simple-hearted men were ready to start across
+the fields and over the low hills to Bethlehem. Very humble gifts they
+had to offer, but their hearts were filled with joy and wonder.
+
+Standing near the entrance to the cave the shepherd maiden could see
+the outline of the group of men making their way to the city of David.
+"They are going to see the Christ-child," she said to herself, "a babe
+wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger."
+
+How she would love to see the Heavenly Child! A deep longing to behold
+the little new-born King seized her. She would follow the shepherds to
+Bethlehem. One glimpse at the Christ-child would fill her heart with
+joy.
+
+Away over the star-lit fields and hills she started. Not once did she
+falter, although the way was long and some of the hillsides were hard
+to climb.
+
+Finally, she saw the shepherds pass in the gate of the city of
+Bethlehem.
+
+"I came to see the Christ-child," she said to a group of people who
+stood whispering together. They looked at her in astonishment.
+
+"I am following the shepherds," she added.
+
+"They have gone to the inn," was the answer.
+
+When she reached the inn she was directed to a cave near, which served
+as a stable.
+
+There through the entrance she saw the shepherds lay their humble
+presents at Mary's feet and then kneel in solemn adoration.
+
+"I have brought nothing to offer," whispered the maiden, looking
+wistfully into the rude shelter. "I cannot go in without a gift--a
+little gift for the Christ-child."
+
+Tears of disappointment filled her eyes. Slowly she turned to leave
+the place. But after she had taken a few steps she stopped and burst
+into sobs. How could she go away without a glimpse of the Heavenly
+Child? Then, as she stood weeping, a marvelous thing happened. An
+angel appeared beside her and said:
+
+"Lo, here at thy feet is a gift for the Christ-child."
+
+Then she saw growing near her, slender stems covered with delicate
+green leaves and bearing lovely flowers.
+
+The maiden did not stop to wonder. Here was a gift fit to offer the
+little Saviour. With trembling joy she gathered the Christmas roses
+and stepped lightly into the humble house where the little babe lay
+smiling in his mother's arms. In Mary's lap the maiden laid her gift
+of flowers, and, with radiant face, she knelt and filled her heart
+with the glorious vision.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS GIFTS
+
+Laura E. Richards
+
+
+"Mother," said Jack, "may I have some money to buy Christmas presents
+with?"
+
+"Dear," said his mother, "I have no money. We are very poor, and I can
+hardly buy enough food for us all."
+
+Jack hung his head; if he had not been ten the tears would have come
+to his eyes, but he was ten.
+
+"All the other boys give presents!" he said.
+
+"So shall you!" said his mother. "All presents are not bought with
+money. The best boy that ever lived was as poor as we are, and yet He
+was always giving."
+
+"Who was He," asked Jack; "and what did He give?"
+
+"This is His birthday," said the mother. "He was the good Jesus. He
+was born in a stable, and He lived in a poor working-man's house. He
+never had a penny of His own, yet he gave twelve good gifts every day.
+Would you like to try His way?"
+
+"Yes!" cried Jack.
+
+So his mother told him this and that; and soon after Jack started out,
+dressed in his best suit, to give his presents.
+
+First, he went to Aunt Jane's house. She was old and lame, and she did
+not like boys.
+
+"What do you want?" she asked.
+
+"Merry Christmas!" said Jack. "May I stay for an hour and help you?"
+
+"Humph!" said Aunt Jane. "Want to keep you out of mischief, do they?
+Well, you may bring in some wood."
+
+"Shall I split some kindling, too?" asked Jack.
+
+"If you know how," said Aunt Jane. "I can't have you cutting your foot
+and messing my clean shed all up."
+
+Jack found some fresh pine wood and a bright hatchet, and he split up
+a great pile of kindling and thought it fun. He stacked it neatly, and
+then brought in a pail of fresh water and filled the kettle.
+
+"What else can I do?" he asked. "There are twenty minutes more."
+
+"Humph!" said Aunt Jane. "You might feed the pig."
+
+Jack fed the pig, who thanked him in his own way.
+
+"Ten minutes more!" he said. "What shall I do now?"
+
+"Humph!" said Aunt Jane. "You may sit down and tell me why you came."
+
+"It is a Christmas present!" said Jack. "I am giving hours for
+presents. I had twelve, but I gave one to mother, and another one was
+gone before I knew I had it. This hour was your present."
+
+"Humph!" said Aunt Jane. She hobbled to the cupboard and took out a
+small round pie that smelt very good. "Here!" she said. "This is
+_your_ present, and I thank you for mine. Come again, will you?"
+
+"Indeed I will," said Jack, "and thank you for the pie!"
+
+Next Jack went and read for an hour to old Mr. Green, who was blind.
+He read a book about the sea, and they both liked it very much, so
+the hour went quickly. Then it was time to help mother get dinner, and
+then time to eat it; that took two hours, and Aunt Jane's pie was
+wonderful. Then Jack took the Smith baby for a ride in its carriage,
+as Mrs. Smith was ill, and they met its grandfather, who filled Jack's
+pockets with candy and popcorn and invited him to a Christmas tree
+that night.
+
+Next Jack went to see Willy Brown, who had been ill for a long time
+and could not leave his bed. Willy was very glad to see him; they
+played a game, and then each told the other a story, and before Jack
+knew it the clock struck six.
+
+"Oh!" cried Jack. "You have had two!"
+
+"Two what?" asked Willy.
+
+"Two hours!" said Jack; and he told Willy about the presents he was
+giving. "I am glad I gave you two," he said, "and I would give you
+three, but I must go and help mother."
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Willy. "I thank you very much, Jack. I have had a
+perfectly great time; but I have nothing to give you."
+
+Jack laughed. "Why, don't you see?" he cried; "you have given me just
+the same thing. I have had a great time, too."
+
+"Mother," said Jack, as he was going to bed, "I have had a splendid
+Christmas, but I wish I had had something to give you besides the
+hours."
+
+"My darling," said his mother, "you have given me the best gift of
+all--yourself!"
+
+
+
+
+SILVER BELLS
+
+
+ Across the snow the Silver Bells
+ Come near and yet more near;
+ Each Day and Night, each Night and Day
+ They tinkle soft and clear.
+
+ 'Tis Father Christmas on his way
+ Across the winter Snows;
+ While on his sleigh the Silver Bells
+ Keep chiming as he goes.
+
+ I listen for them in the Night,
+ I listen all the Day,
+ I think these merry Silver Bells
+ Are long, long on the way!
+
+ Hamish Hendry.
+
+
+
+
+THE ANIMALS' CHRISTMAS TREE
+
+John P. Peters
+
+
+Once upon a time the animals decided to have a Christmas tree, and
+this was how it came about: The swifts and the swallows in the
+chimneys in the country houses, awakened from their sleep by joy and
+laughter, had stolen down and peeped in upon scenes of happiness, the
+center of which was always an evergreen tree covered with wonderful
+fruit, bright balls of many colours, and sparkling threads of gold and
+silver, lying like beautiful frost-work among the green fir needles. A
+sweet, fairy-like figure of a Christ Child or an angel rested high
+among the branches, and underneath the tree were dolls and sleds and
+skates and drums and toys of every sort, and furs and gloves and
+tippets, ribbons and handkerchiefs, and all the things that boys and
+girls need and like; and all about this tree were gathered always
+little children with faces--oh! so full of wonderment and expectation,
+changing to radiant, sparkling merriment as toys and candies were
+taken off the tree or from underneath its boughs and distributed among
+them.
+
+The swifts and swallows told their feathered friends all about it, and
+they told others, both birds and animals, until at last it began to be
+rumoured through all the animal world that on one day in the year the
+children of men were made wonderfully happy by means of some sort of
+festival which they held about a fir tree from the forest. Now, of
+course, the tame animals and the house animals, the dogs and the cats
+and the mice, knew something more about this festival. But then, they
+did not exchange visits with the wild animals, because they felt
+themselves above them.
+
+They were always trying to be like men and women, you know, putting on
+airs and pretending to know everything; but, after all, they were
+animals and could not help making friendships now and then with the
+wild creatures, especially when the men and women were not there. And
+when they were asked about the Christmas tree, they told still more
+wonderful stories than the swifts and the swallows from the chimneys
+had told, for some of them had taken part in these festivals, and some
+had even received presents from the tree, just like the children.
+
+They said that the tree was called a Christmas tree, because that
+strange fruit and that wonderful frosting came on it only in the
+Christmas time, and that the Christmas time was the time when men and
+women and little children, too, were always kind and good and loving,
+and gave things to one another; and they said, moreover, that on the
+Christmas tree grew the things which every one wanted, and which would
+make them happy, and that it was so, because in the Christmas time
+everyone was trying to make everyone else happy and to think of what
+other people would like. This they said was what they had seen and
+heard told about Christmas trees. They did not quite understand why it
+was so, but they knew that the Christmas tree, when rightly made,
+brought the Christmas spirit, and they had heard men say that the
+Christmas spirit was the great thing, and that that was what made
+everyone happy.
+
+Well, the long and the short of it was that the animals talked of it
+in their dens and on their roosts, in the fields, and in the forests,
+wild beasts and tame alike--the cows and the horses in their stalls,
+the sheep in their fold, the doves in their cotes and the poultry in
+the poultry-yard, until all agreed that a Christmas tree would be a
+grand thing for the wild and tame alike. Like the men, they, too,
+would have a tree of their very own. But how to do it?
+
+Then the lion called a meeting of all the creatures, wild and tame;
+for you know the lion is king of beasts and when he calls they all
+must come. You know, too, that before and during and after these
+animal congresses there is a royal peace. The lamb can come to the
+meeting and sit down by the wolf, and the wolf dare not touch him; the
+dove may perch on the bough between the hawk and the owl and neither
+will harm him, when the great king of beasts has summoned them all
+together to take counsel. But you know all about the rules of the
+animals, for you have read them in books, and you have seen the
+pictures: how the lion sits on his throne with a crown on one side of
+his head, and all the other creatures gather about--the elephant, and
+giraffe, the hippopotamus, the buffalo, wolves and tigers and
+leopards, foxes and deer, goats and sheep, monkeys and orang-outangs,
+parrots and robins and turkeys and swans and storks and eagles and
+frogs and lizards and alligators, and all the rest besides.
+
+Then, when the lion had called the meeting to order, the swifts and
+the swallows told what they had seen, and a fat little pug-dog, with a
+ribbon and a silver bell about his neck, wheezed out a story of a
+Christmas tree that he had seen, and how a silver bell had grown on
+that tree for him and a whole box of the best sweets he had ever
+dreamed of while he lay comfortably snoozing on his cushion before the
+fire. And a Persian cat, with her hair turned the wrong way, mewed out
+her story of a Christmas tree that she had attended, and told how
+there was a white mouse made of cream cheese for her creeping about
+beneath the branches.
+
+Then the monkeys chattered and the elephants trumpeted, the horses
+neighed, the hyenas laughed, and each in his own way argued for a
+Christmas tree and told what he would do to help make it.
+
+The elephant would go into the forest, and choose the tree and pull it
+up. The buffaloes would drag it in. The giraffe would fix the
+ornaments on the higher limbs, because its neck was long. The monkeys
+would scramble up where the giraffe could not reach. The squirrels
+could run out on the slender twigs and help the monkeys. The birds
+would fly about and get the golden threads and put them on the tree
+with their beaks. The fire-flies would hide themselves among the
+branches and sparkle like diamonds, and the glow-worms promised to
+help the fire-flies by playing candles, if someone would lift them up
+and put them on the branches. The parrots and paroquets and other
+birds of gay plumage would give feathers to hang among the branches,
+and the humming-birds promised to flutter in and out among the twigs,
+and the sheep to give white wool to lie like snow among the boughs.
+
+Then the parrots screeched and the peacocks screamed with delight, and
+you and I never could have told whether anybody voted aye or nay; but
+the lion knew; and the owl, for he was clerk, set it down in the
+minutes, as the lion bade him, that all the birds and beasts would do
+their part. So each planned what he could do. Even the little beetle,
+who makes great balls of earth, thought that if he could only once see
+one of those gay balls that grow on the children's Christmas tree, he
+might make some for the animals' tree. Different birds and beasts told
+of the oranges and apples and holly-berries and who knows what they
+could get and hang upon the tree. You see the animals came from many
+places, and then, too, they could send the carrier pigeons to go and
+bring fruit and berries, and who knows what besides, from oh, so far
+away, because the carrier pigeons can fly through the air no one knows
+how fast or how far.
+
+Well, I cannot tell you everything that each one was going to do, but
+if you will go and get your Noah's ark and take the animals out one by
+one, then you surely will think it out for yourself, for you have all
+the animals there.
+
+And so they arranged how they would ornament the tree, and the next
+thing was to decide what presents should be hung on the tree or put
+beneath its boughs, for each one must have his present. Well, after
+much discussion in roars, and bellows, crows and croaks, lows and
+screams and bleats, and baas and grunts, and all the other sounds of
+birds and beast language, it was voted that each might choose the
+present he wished hung on the tree. The clerkly owl should call their
+names one by one, and each might declare his choice. So they began.
+The parrots and the macaws thought that they would like oranges and
+bananas and such things, which would look so pretty on the tree, too;
+and so they were arranged for. The robins and the cedar birds chose
+cherries; the the partridges, partridge berries, the squirrels, the
+red and grey and black, nuts and apples and pears. The monkeys said
+the popcorn strings would do for them, and the cats and dogs,
+remembering the Christmas gift which the pug-dog and Persian cat had
+told about, asked for tiny mice made of cream cheese or chocolate. By
+and by it came the pig's turn to tell his choice. "Grunt, grunt!" said
+the pig, "I want a nice pail of swill hung on the very lowest bough of
+all."
+
+"Ugh!" said the black leopard, so sleek and so clean.
+
+"Faugh!" said the gazelle, with his dainty sense of smell.
+
+"Neigh!" said the horse, so daintily groomed.
+
+"What!" roared the lion, "what's that you want?"
+
+"A pail of swill," grunted the pig. "Each one has chosen what he
+wants, and I have a right to choose what I want."
+
+"But," roared the lion, "each one has chosen something beautiful to
+make the tree a joy to all."
+
+"Grunt, grunt," said the pig. "The parrots and macaws are going to
+have oranges and bananas, and the robins and the cedar birds red
+cherries, the partridges, their berries, the squirrels, nuts and
+apples and pears, the dog and the cat, their cream and chocolate mice.
+They all have what they want to eat. Grunt, grunt," said he; "I will
+have what I want to eat, too, and what I want is a pail of swill."
+
+Now, you see it had been voted, as I told you, that each should have
+what he wanted hung on the tree for him, and so the lion could not
+help himself. If the pig chose swill, swill he must have, and angrily
+he had to roar: "If the pig wants swill, a pail of swill he must have,
+hung on the lowest bough of the tree!"
+
+Then the wolf's wicked eyes gleamed, for his turn was next, and he
+said: "If the pig has swill because he wants swill to eat, I must have
+what I want to eat, and I want a tender lamb, six months old." And at
+that all the lambs and the sheep bleated and baaed.
+
+"Ha, ha!" barked the fox; "then I want a turkey!" And the turkeys
+gobbled in fear.
+
+"And I," said the tiger, "want a yearling calf." And the cows and the
+calves lowed in horror.
+
+"And I," said the owl, the clerk, "I want a plump dove."
+
+"And I," said the hawk, "will take a rabbit."
+
+"And I," said the leopard, "want a deer or a gazelle."
+
+Then all was fear and uproar. The hares and rabbits scuttled into the
+grass; the gazelles and the deer bounded away; the sheep and the
+cattle crowded close together; the small birds rose in the air in
+flocks; and the Christmas tree was like to have come to grief and
+ended, not in Christmas joy, but in fear and hatred and terror.
+
+Then a little lamb stepped out and bleated: "Ah! king lion, it would
+be very sad if all the animals should lose their Christmas tree, for
+the very thought of that tree has brought us closer together, and here
+we were, wild and tame, fierce and timid, met together as friends; and
+oh! king lion, rather than there should not be a tree, they may take
+me and hang me on it. Let them not take the turkeys and gazelles and
+the calves and the rabbits and all the rest that they have chosen. Let
+the tigers and leopards, and wolves and foxes and eagles, and hawks
+and owls and all their kind be content that their Christmas present
+shall be a lamb; and so we may come together again and have our happy
+Christmas tree, and each have what he wishes."
+
+"But," said the lion, "what will you have? If you give yourself, then
+you will have no Christmas present."
+
+"Yes," said the lamb, "I, too, shall have what I want, for I shall
+have brought them all together again, and made each one happy."
+
+Then a dove fluttered down from a tree and landed on the ground beside
+the lamb, and very timidly and softly she cooed: "Take me, too, king
+lion, as the present for the owls and the hawks, and the weasels and
+minks, because for them a lamb is too big. I am the best present for
+them. Take me, king lion!"
+
+Then the lion roared: "See what the lamb and the dove have done! My
+food, oh, tigers and leopards and wolves and eagles and all your kind,
+is like your food; but I would rather eat nothing from our Christmas
+tree than take this lamb or dove for my present."
+
+Then all the beasts kept still, because the lion roared so loud and
+angrily, and the birds that were flying away settled on the branches
+of the trees, and the gazelles stopped their running and turned their
+heads to listen, and the rabbits peeped out through the grass and
+brush where they had hid. Then the lion turned to the pig, and roared:
+
+"See this lamb and this dove! Are you not ashamed for what you have
+done? You have spoiled all our happiness. Will you take back your
+choice, you pig, or do you wish to ruin our Christmas tree?"
+
+"Grunt, grunt," said the pig, "it is my right. I want something good.
+I don't care for your lambs and your doves. I want my swill!"
+
+Then the lion roared again: "Have all chosen?" and all answered,
+"Yes."
+
+"Then," said the lion, "it is my choice."
+
+And all said: "It is."
+
+"I love fat and tender pigs. I choose a pig for my Christmas gift,"
+roared the lion.
+
+Did you ever hear a pig squeal? Oh, how that pig squealed then! And he
+got up on his fat little legs and tried to run away, but all the
+animals gathered around in a ring and the hyenas laughed, and the
+jackals cried, and the dogs and the wolves and the foxes headed him
+off and hunted the poor pig back again. Then, when the pig found that
+he could not run away, he lay down on his back with his feet in the
+air and squealed with all his might: "Oh, I don't want the swill; oh,
+I don't want the swill! I take it all back! I don't want anything!"
+
+But at first no one heard him, because all were talking at once in
+their own way--barking and growling and roaring and chattering; but by
+and by the lion saw that the pig was squealing something, so he roared
+for silence, and then they all heard the pig squeal out that he did
+not want any swill. And the lion roared aloud: "You have heard. Has
+the owl recorded that the pig will have no swill?"
+
+"Yes," said the owl.
+
+"Then," said the lion, "record that the lion wants no pig."
+
+Then the tiger growled: "And I want no calf," and one by one the
+leopard and the eagle, the wolf and the fox, the hawk and owl, and
+all their kind, took back their votes.
+
+And so it came about that the animals did have a Christmas tree after
+all; but instead of hanging lambs and doves upon the tree, they agreed
+that they could hang little images of lambs and doves, and other birds
+and animals, too, perhaps. And by and by the custom spread until the
+humans came to hang the same little images on their trees, too, and
+when you see a little figure of a lamb or a dove on the Christmas
+tree, you may know that it is all because the lamb and the dove, by
+their unselfishness, saved the animals from strife; for neither
+thought what he wanted from the tree, but each was ready to give
+himself for the others, so that they might not fight and kill one
+another at the Christmas time.
+
+
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS CAROL
+
+
+ The Shepherds had an Angel,
+ The Wise Men had a star,
+ But what have I, a little child,
+ To guide me home from far,
+ Where glad stars sing together
+ And singing angels are?
+
+ Those Shepherds through the lonely night
+ Sat watching by their sheep,
+ Until they saw the heavenly host
+ Who neither tire nor sleep,
+ All singing "Glory, glory,"
+ In festival they keep.
+
+ The Wise Men left their country
+ To journey morn by morn,
+ With gold and frankincense and myrrh,
+ Because the Lord was born:
+ God sent a star to guide them
+ And sent a dream to warn.
+
+ My life is like their journey,
+ Their star is like God's book;
+ I must be like those good Wise Men
+ With heavenward heart and look:
+ But shall I give no gifts to God?--
+ What precious gifts they took!
+
+ Christina Rossetti.
+
+
+
+
+HOLLY
+
+Ada M. Marzials
+
+
+ Highty-tighty, Paradighty,
+ Clothèd all in green.
+ The King could not read it
+ No more could the Queen.
+ They sent for a Wise Man out of the East,
+ Who said it had horns but was not a beast.
+
+ (_Old Riddle._)
+
+There was once upon a time a very war-like kingdom where they had
+never heard of Christmas. The men spent all their days fighting, and
+the women spent _their_ days in urging the warriors to further deeds
+of valour.
+
+This had gone on for a very long time, and no one had ever yet said
+that he was tired of it. There was but one person in the whole kingdom
+who had openly declared that war was hateful, but as she was only the
+Youngest Princess nobody paid any heed to her.
+
+Then came a time, just before our Christmas Day, when the King was
+preparing a great campaign against a far-off country. He called
+together his Council of War--grave old warriors, dressed completely in
+armour.
+
+"My friends," said he, "we are about to wage war on the distant
+kingdoms of Zowega. Up till this time the people of that country have
+been our very good friends, but as we have now conquered all our
+enemies, there seems no one but our friends left to fight, and of
+these the King of the Zowegians is chief.
+
+"You will remember that his youngest son, Prince Moldo, spent some of
+his boyhood at our court in order to gain instruction in feats of
+arms, and that the Prince left us to travel over the world. A few
+months ago his father sent word to me that the Prince had returned
+home, bringing with him the news of a Pearl of Great Price, which
+contained the Secret of Happiness. It is this Pearl which I have made
+the excuse for war, for I have demanded it in payment for the
+services that we rendered to Prince Moldo. In my message I have said
+that if the Pearl, and the Secret which it contains, are not brought
+and revealed to us here within the next five days, our troops will
+descend upon the kingdom of Zowega and wipe it off the face of the
+earth."
+
+Loud and long cheered the Council at the speech of their King, as,
+indeed, was their duty, though in their hearts of hearts they had no
+wish to fight against the King of the Zowegians, who was their very
+good friend. The Queen and the Princesses smiled graciously upon them,
+all save the Youngest Princess, who had been Prince Moldo's
+playfellow. She disgraced herself by bursting into passionate tears,
+and was forthwith ordered out of the Council Hall.
+
+At the end of five days the Council once more assembled to await the
+arrival of the messenger with the answer from the King of Zowega.
+
+The day was bright and cold, and there was snow on the ground. The
+King and Queen were wrapped in thick fur cloaks. The Princesses were
+all assembled, too, even the Youngest, who was dressed in ermine and
+looked as pale as death.
+
+It was Christmas Eve, but there were no Christmas trees preparing and
+no presents. No one was thinking of hanging his stockings up. The Hall
+was not decorated, neither were the churches; indeed, there were no
+churches to decorate, for, as you remember, the people in this kingdom
+knew nothing about Christmas.
+
+The Council sat and waited in the big bare Hall.
+
+At last the great doors were flung open, there was a blast of
+trumpets, and the messenger appeared.
+
+He was tall and fair, and held himself proudly. His eyes were bright
+and shining and there was a smile upon his face. He was completely
+dressed in bright green and the Council noted with astonishment that
+he was without armour of any kind. He wore neither breastplate, shield
+nor helmet; he had neither sword by his side, nor spurs on his feet.
+He was bare-headed, and in his right hand he carried something green,
+horny and prickly, with little red dots on it.
+
+Looking neither to the right nor to the left, he walked with firm and
+steady step up the long Hall between the rows of armed warriors.
+
+As he passed the Youngest Princess she blushed deeply, but he did not
+seem to notice her.
+
+When he reached the throne he bowed low before the King and Queen, and
+laid the prickly object on the table before them.
+
+"Your Majesty," said he in a clear, ringing voice. "From the King of
+Zowega, greeting! He sends you this token. It is the symbol of the
+Secret of Happiness."
+
+The King stared, so did the Queen.
+
+They had expected a Pearl of Great Price, accompanied by a scroll on
+which was written the Secret of Happiness, and the King of Zowega had
+sent them _this_!
+
+Amid dead silence the King took the token up in his hands in order to
+examine it more carefully.
+
+He dropped it hastily, for it pricked him, and little drops of blood
+were seen starting from his hand.
+
+"Highty-tighty!" said he. "'Tis surely some kind of beast and a symbol
+of war, for it pricked me right smartly. Truly the King of Zowega
+deals in riddles which I for one cannot read! Take it, my dear," added
+he to the Queen and pointing to the token; "perchance your quick wits
+may be able to understand this mystery."
+
+She picked up the token and examined it carefully.
+
+It rather resembled the branch of a tree, but the leaves were thick
+and resisting and edged with very sharp spikes, and there was on it a
+cluster of round, bright red objects like tiny balls. But even as it
+had pricked the King so did it prick her, and she dropped it hastily
+into the lap of the Eldest Princess, who was sitting beside her.
+
+"Paradighty!" exclaimed the Queen in her own language. "It is
+certainly a beast. See, it has horns!" and she pointed to the spikes.
+
+"But I certainly cannot read the riddle--if riddle it be."
+
+Then it was passed to all the Princesses in turn, but they could not
+read the token any more than could the King and Queen. At last it
+reached the Youngest Princess, and, though it pricked her little hands
+sorely, she took it up tenderly and kissed it.
+
+"'Tis a token of love," said she.
+
+The messenger turned his shining eyes full upon her.
+
+"The Princess has read the riddle of the token aright," said he, and
+he stepped forward as though to kiss her hand.
+
+"Stay!" said the King imperiously springing to his feet. "A token of
+love, forsooth! But I sent the King of Zowega a Declaration of War!
+What does he mean by sending me a token of love? The Princess must
+certainly be mistaken--and as for _you_," he continued, turning
+fiercely to the messenger, "you shall be marched off to prison until
+we have had time to consult with our Wise Men as to the real meaning
+of this extraordinary token."
+
+So there and then the messenger was marched off to spend the night in
+prison, and all the Wise Men in the kingdom were bidden to appear in
+the Council Chamber the very next day, especially one very old Wise
+Man from the East who was reputed to be wiser than all the others put
+together.
+
+The next day, of course, was Christmas Day, but, as these people had
+never heard of Christmas, there were no bells ringing, no carols were
+sung, and there was neither holly, ivy nor mistletoe upon the walls.
+
+Slowly and painfully the Wise Men began to arrive.
+
+They were all dressed alike, in black flowing robes, and on their
+heads they wore long pointed black caps covered with weird devices.
+
+The very old Wise Man from the East wore a red pointed cap, but in all
+other respects was dressed just like the others.
+
+They assembled round a large circular table at one end of the Hall. In
+the middle of the table was placed the token.
+
+At the other end of the Hall were gathered the warriors, and above
+them on a double throne sat the King and Queen with the Princesses
+grouped on either side of the dais.
+
+The Wise Men examined the token in silence.
+
+"'Tis a curious beast," said one of them at last.
+
+"Of a new and quite unheard-of species," said another.
+
+"It has neither legs nor tail," said a third.
+
+"Yet it has a number of globular red eyes," said a fourth.
+
+"And it certainly has horns," said a fifth.
+
+And so said they all, until it came to the turn of the very old Wise
+Man from the East.
+
+He looked long at the token.
+
+"It has horns," said he at last, "but it is not a beast."
+
+"Not a beast!" said they, one to the other.
+
+"But what is it then?"
+
+"It is a token of love," said he.
+
+"Highty-tighty," interrupted the King. "Read us then the full meaning
+of the token."
+
+"I cannot," said the very old Wise Man; "but let the youth be brought
+hither who carried it. He will be able to explain it more fully than
+I."
+
+"Paradighty!" said the Queen in her own language. "Why did we not
+think of that before! Fetch him back again at once!"
+
+So two of the warriors fetched the youth from prison, and he was soon
+standing before the Assembly, with his head held as high and his eyes
+as bright and shining as before.
+
+"Read us the token!" commanded the King.
+
+The youth bowed low. "The Princess read it aright yesterday. It is a
+token of love."
+
+"Explain yourself!" said the King. "How can a beast with horns be a
+token of love?"
+
+The youth drew himself up to his full height.
+
+"It is not a beast," said he. "It is the branch of a holly-tree. On
+this day of the year, which in my country we call Christmas Day, our
+people decorate their houses with branches of this holly or holy tree
+as a token of love and peace and good-will. This is the message that I
+have brought to you--a message that we in our country know very well,
+but which you have never heard before."
+
+The King and the Warriors, the Wise Men, the Queen and Princesses all
+listened to his words in silence.
+
+When he had ended there was a long pause.
+
+"And in what particular way does your message affect us?" said the
+King at last.
+
+"Thus, your Majesty," answered the youth, approaching the Youngest
+Princess and taking both her hands in his, "on this day I, Prince
+Moldo, would have peace and good-will between my kingdom and your
+kingdom; and I would seal it for ever by taking the Youngest Princess
+home with me as my bride. You, O King, recognized me not, for I have
+much changed since I lived here with her for playfellow, but in all my
+wanderings I found a Pearl of no greater price than this, and I would
+proclaim to all the world that the Secret of Happiness is Love."
+
+So on that very Christmas Day they were married, amid great
+rejoicings, and war ceased throughout the kingdom. And on every
+Christmas Day for ever after, the people of that country decorated
+their houses with holly, the symbol of love and peace and good-will,
+and wished each other a Merry Christmas, even as I do now to you.
+
+
+
+
+THE WILLOW MAN
+
+
+ There once was a Willow, and he was very old,
+ And all his leaves fell off from him, and left him in the cold;
+ But ere the rude winter could buffet him with snow,
+ There grew upon his hoary head a crop of Mistletoe.
+
+ All wrinkled and furrowed was this old Willow's skin
+ His taper fingers trembled, and his arms were very thin;
+ Two round eyes and hollow, that stared but did not see,
+ And sprawling feet that never walked, had this most ancient tree.
+
+ A Dame who dwelt a-near was the only one who knew
+ That every year upon his head the Christmas berries grew;
+ And when the Dame cut them, she said--it was her whim--
+ "A merry Christmas to you, Sir," _and left a bit for him_.
+
+ "Oh, Granny dear, tell us," the children cried, "where we
+ May find the shining mistletoe that grows upon the tree?"
+ At length the Dame told them, but cautioned them to mind
+ To greet the willow civilly, _and leave a bit behind_.
+
+ "Who cares," said the children, "for this old Willow-man?
+ We'll take the Mistletoe, and he may catch us if he can."
+ With rage the ancient Willow shakes in every limb,
+ For they have taken all, and _have not left a bit for him_.
+
+ Then bright gleamed the holly, the Christmas berries shone
+ But in the wintry wind, without the Willow-man did moan:
+ "Ungrateful, and wasteful! the mystic Mistletoe
+ A hundred years hath grown on me, but never more shall grow."
+
+ A year soon passed by, and the children came once more,
+ But not a sprig of Mistletoe the aged Willow bore.
+ Each slender spray pointed; he mocked them in his glee,
+ And chuckled in his wooden heart, that ancient Willow-tree.
+
+ O children, who gather the spoils of wood and wold,
+ From selfish greed and wilful waste your little hands withhold.
+ Though fair things be common, this moral bear in mind,
+ "Pick thankfully and modestly, _and leave a bit behind_."
+
+ Juliana Horatia Ewing.
+
+
+
+
+THE IVY GREEN
+
+
+ Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
+ That creepeth o'er ruins old!
+ Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,
+ In his cell so lone and cold.
+ The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed
+ To pleasure his dainty whim;
+ And the mouldering dust that years have made,
+ Is a merry meal for him.
+ Creeping where no life is seen,
+ A rare old plant is the ivy green.
+
+ Charles Dickens.
+
+
+
+
+LEGEND OF SAINT NICHOLAS
+
+Amy Steedman
+
+
+Of all the saints that little children love is there any to compare
+with Santa Claus? The very sound of his name has magic in it, and
+calls up visions of well-filled stockings, with the presents we
+particularly want peeping over the top, or hanging out at the side,
+too big to go into the largest sock. Besides, there is something so
+mysterious and exciting about Santa Claus, for no one seems to have
+ever seen him. But we picture him to ourselves as an old man with a
+white beard, whose favourite way of coming into our rooms is down the
+chimney, bringing gifts for the good children and punishments for the
+bad.
+
+Yet this Santa Claus, in whose name the presents come to us at
+Christmas time, is a very real saint, and we can learn a great deal
+about him, only we must remember that his true name is Saint
+Nicholas. Perhaps the little children, who used to talk of him long
+ago, found Saint Nicholas too difficult to say, and so called him
+their dear Santa Claus. But we learn, as we grow older, that Nicholas
+is his true name, and that he is a real person who lived long years
+ago, far away in the East.
+
+The father and mother of Nicholas were noble and very rich, but what
+they wanted most of all was to have a son. They were Christians, so
+they prayed to God for many years that He would give them their
+hearts' desire; and when at last Nicholas was born, they were the
+happiest people in the world.
+
+They thought there was no one like their boy; and indeed, he was wiser
+and better than most children, and never gave them a moment's trouble.
+But alas, while he was still a child, a terrible plague swept over the
+country, and his father and mother died, leaving him quite alone.
+
+All the great riches which his father had possessed were left to
+Nicholas, and among other things he inherited three bars of gold.
+These golden bars were his greatest treasure, and he thought more of
+them than all the other riches he possessed.
+
+Now in the town where Nicholas lived there dwelt a nobleman with three
+daughters. They had once been very rich, but great misfortunes had
+overtaken the father, and now they were all so poor they had scarcely
+enough to live upon.
+
+At last a day came when there was not even bread enough to eat, and
+the daughters said to their father:
+
+"Let us go into the streets and beg, or do anything to get a little
+money, that we may not starve."
+
+But the father answered:
+
+"Not to-night. I cannot bear to think of it. Wait at least until
+to-morrow. Something may happen to save my daughters from such
+disgrace."
+
+Now, just as they were talking together, Nicholas happened to be
+passing, and as the window was open he heard all that the poor father
+said. It seemed terrible to think that a noble family should be so
+poor and actually in want of bread, and Nicholas tried to plan how it
+would be possible to help them. He knew they would be much too proud
+to take money from him, so he had to think of some other way. Then he
+remembered his golden bars, and that very night he took one of them
+and went secretly to the nobleman's house, hoping to give the treasure
+without letting the father or daughters know who brought it.
+
+To his joy Nicholas discovered that a little window had been left
+open, and by standing on tiptoe he could reach it. So he lifted the
+golden bar and slipped it through the window, never waiting to hear
+what became of it, in case any one should see him. (And now do you see
+the reason why the visits of Santa Claus are so mysterious?)
+
+Inside the house the poor father sat sorrowfully watching, while his
+children slept. He wondered if there was any hope for them anywhere,
+and he prayed earnestly that heaven would send help. Suddenly
+something fell at his feet, and to his amazement and joy, he found it
+was a bar of pure gold.
+
+"My child," he cried, as he showed his eldest daughter the shining
+gold, "God has heard my prayer and has sent this from heaven. Now we
+shall have enough and to spare. Call your sisters that we may rejoice
+together, and I will go instantly and change this treasure."
+
+The precious golden bar was soon sold to a money-changer, who gave so
+much for it that the family were able to live in comfort and have all
+that they needed. And not only was there enough to live upon, but so
+much was over that the father gave his eldest daughter a large dowry,
+and very soon she was happily married.
+
+When Nicholas saw how much happiness his golden bar had brought to the
+poor nobleman he determined that the second daughter should have a
+dowry too. So he went as before and found the little window again
+open, and was able to throw in the second golden bar as he had done
+the first. This time the father was dreaming happily, and did not find
+the treasure until he awoke in the morning. Soon afterwards the second
+daughter had her dowry and was married too.
+
+The father now began to think that, after all, it was not usual for
+golden bars to fall from heaven, and he wondered if by any chance
+human hands had placed them in his room. The more he thought of it the
+stranger it seemed, and he made up his mind to keep watch every night,
+in case another golden bar should be sent as a portion for his
+youngest daughter.
+
+And so when Nicholas went the third time and dropped the last bar
+through the little window, the father came quickly out, and before
+Nicholas had time to hide, caught him by his cloak.
+
+"O Nicholas," he cried, "is it thou who hast helped us in our need?
+Why didst thou hide thyself?" And then he fell on his knees and began
+to kiss the hands that had helped him so graciously.
+
+But Nicholas bade him stand up and give thanks to God instead, warning
+him to tell no one the story of the golden bars.
+
+This was only one of the many kind acts Nicholas loved to do, and it
+was no wonder that he was beloved by all who knew him.
+
+Soon afterwards Nicholas made up his mind to enter God's service as a
+priest. He longed above all things to leave the world and live as a
+hermit in the desert, but God came to him in a vision and told him he
+must stay in the crowded cities and do his work among the people.
+Still his desire to see the deserts and the hermits who lived there
+was so great that he went off on a journey to Egypt and the Holy Land.
+But remembering what God had bade him do he did not stay there but
+returned to his own country.
+
+On the way home a terrific storm arose, and it seemed as if the ship
+he was in must be lost. The sailors could do nothing, and great waves
+dashed over the deck, filling the ship with water. But just as all had
+given up hope, Nicholas knelt and prayed to God to save them, and
+immediately a calm fell upon the angry sea. The winds sank to rest and
+the waves ceased to lash the sides of the ship so that they sailed
+smoothly on, and all danger passed.
+
+Thus Nicholas returned home in safety, and went to live in the city of
+Myra. His ways were so quiet and humble that no one knew much about
+him, until it came to pass one day that the Archbishop of Myra died.
+Then all the priests met to choose another archbishop, and it was made
+known to them by a sign from heaven that the first man who should
+enter the church next morning should be the bishop whom God had
+chosen.
+
+Now Nicholas used to spend most of his nights in prayer and always
+went very early to church, so next morning just as the sun was rising
+and the bells began to ring for the early mass, he was seen coming up
+to the church door and was the first to enter. As he knelt down
+quietly to say his prayers as usual, what was his surprise to meet a
+company of priests who hailed him as their new archbishop, chosen by
+God to be their leader and guide. So Nicholas was made Archbishop of
+Myra to the joy of all in the city who knew and loved him.
+
+Not long after this there was great trouble in the town of Myra, for
+the harvests of that country had failed and a terrible famine swept
+over the land. Nicholas, as a good bishop should, felt the suffering
+of his people as if it were his own, and did all he could to help
+them.
+
+He knew that they must have corn or they would die, so he went to the
+harbour where two ships lay filled with grain, and asked the captains
+if they would sell him their cargo. They told the bishop they would
+willingly do so, but it was already sold to merchants of another
+country and they dared not sell it over again.
+
+"Take no thought of that," said Nicholas, "only sell me some of thy
+corn for my starving people, and I promise thee that there shall be
+nought wanting when thou shalt arrive at thy journey's end."
+
+The captains believed in the bishop's promise and gave him as much
+corn as he asked. And behold! when they came to deliver their cargo to
+the owners, there was not a bag lacking.
+
+There are many stories told about the good bishop. Like his Master, he
+ever went about doing good; and when he died, there were a great many
+legends told about him, for the people loved to believe that their
+bishop still cared for them and would come to their aid. We do not
+know if all these legends are true, but they show how much Saint
+Nicholas was loved and honoured even after his death, and how every
+one believed in his power to help them.
+
+Here is one of the stories which all children who love Saint Nicholas
+will like to hear.
+
+There was once a nobleman who had no children and who longed for a son
+above everything else in the world. Night and day he prayed to Saint
+Nicholas that he would grant him his request, and at last a son was
+born. He was a beautiful child, and the father was so delighted and so
+grateful to the saint who had listened to his prayers that, every year
+on the child's birthday, he made a great feast in honour of Saint
+Nicholas and a grand service was held in the church.
+
+Now the Evil One grew angry each year when this happened, for it made
+many people go to church and honour the good saint, neither of which
+things pleased the Evil One at all. So each year he tried to think of
+some plan that would put an end to these rejoicings, and he decided
+at last that if only he could do some evil to the child the parents
+would blame Saint Nicholas and all would be well.
+
+It happened just then to be the boy's sixth birthday and a greater
+feast than ever was being held. It was late in the afternoon, and the
+gardener and porter and all the servants were away keeping holiday,
+too. So no one noticed a curious-looking pilgrim who came and sat
+close to the great iron gates which led into the courtyard. He had on
+the ordinary robe of a poor pilgrim, but the hood was drawn so far
+over his face that nothing but a dark shadow could be seen inside. And
+indeed that was as well, for this pilgrim was a demon in disguise, and
+his wicked, black face would have frightened any one who saw it. He
+could not enter the courtyard for the great gates were always kept
+locked, and, as you know, the porter was away that day, feasting with
+all the other servants.
+
+But, before very long, the little boy grew weary of his birthday
+feast, and, having had all he wanted he begged to be allowed to go to
+play in the garden. His parents knew that the gardener always looked
+after him there, so they told him he might go. They forgot that the
+gardener was not there just then.
+
+The child played happily alone for some time and then wandered into
+the courtyard, and looking out of the gate saw a poor pilgrim resting
+there.
+
+"What are you doing here?" asked the child, "and why do you sit so
+still?"
+
+"I am a poor pilgrim," answered the demon, trying to make his harsh
+voice sound as gentle as possible, "and I have come all the way from
+Rome. I am resting here because I am so weary and footsore and have
+had nothing to eat all day."
+
+"I will let you in, and take you to my father," said the child; "this
+is my birthday, and no one must go hungry to-day."
+
+But the demon pretended he was too weak to walk, and begged the boy to
+bring some food out to him.
+
+Then the child ran back to the banquet hall in a great hurry and said
+to his father:
+
+"O father, there is a poor pilgrim from Rome sitting outside our gate,
+and he is so hungry, may I take him some of my birthday feast?"
+
+The father was very pleased to think that his little son should care
+for the poor and wish to be kind, so he willingly gave his permission
+and told one of the servants to give the child all that he wanted.
+
+Then as the demon sat eating the good things he began to question the
+boy and tried to find out all that he could about him.
+
+"Do you often play in the garden?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, yes," said the child. "I play there whenever I may, for in the
+midst of the lawn there is a beautiful fountain, and the gardener
+makes me boats to sail on the water."
+
+"Will he make you one to-day?" asked the demon quickly.
+
+"He is not here to-day," answered the child, "for this is a holiday
+for every one and I am quite alone."
+
+Then the demon rose to his feet slowly and said he felt so much better
+after the good food that he thought he could walk a little and would
+like very much to come in and see the beautiful garden and the
+fountain he had heard about.
+
+So the child climbed up and with great difficulty drew back the bolts.
+The great gates swung open and the demon walked in.
+
+As they went along together towards the fountain the child held out
+his little hand to lead the pilgrim, but even the demon shrunk from
+touching anything so pure and innocent, and folded his arms under his
+robe, so that the child could only hold by a fold of his cloak.
+
+"What strange kind of feet you have," said the child as they walked
+along; "they look as if they belonged to an animal."
+
+"Yes, they are curious," said the demon, "but it is just the way they
+are made."
+
+Then the child began to notice the demon's hands, which were even more
+curious than his feet, and just like paws of a bear. But he was too
+courteous to say anything about them, when he had already mentioned
+the feet.
+
+Just then they came to the fountain, and with a sudden movement the
+demon threw back his hood and showed his dreadful face. And before
+the child could scream he was seized by those hairy hands and thrown
+into the water.
+
+But just at that moment the gardener was returning to his work and saw
+from a distance what had happened. He ran as fast as he could, but he
+only got to the fountain in time to see the demon vanish, while the
+child's body was floating on the water. Very quickly he drew him out,
+and carried him, all dripping wet, up to the castle, where they tried
+to bring him back to life. But, alas! it all seemed of no use; he
+neither moved nor breathed, and the day that had begun with such
+rejoicing, ended in the bitterest woe. The poor parents were
+heart-broken, but they did not quite lose hope and prayed earnestly to
+Saint Nicholas who had given them the child, that he would restore
+their boy to them again.
+
+As they prayed by the side of the little bed where the body of the
+child lay, they thought something moved, and to their joy and surprise
+the boy opened his eyes and sat up, and in a short time was as well
+as ever.
+
+They asked him eagerly what had happened, and he told them all about
+the pilgrim with the queer feet and hands, who had gone with him to
+the fountain and had then thrown back his hood and shown his terrible
+face. After that he could remember nothing until he found himself in a
+beautiful garden, where the loveliest flowers grew. There were lilies
+like white stars, and roses far more beautiful than any he had ever
+seen in his own garden, and the leaves of the trees shone like silver
+and gold. It was all so beautiful that for a while he forgot his home,
+and when he did remember and tried to find his way back, he grew
+bewildered and did not know in what direction to turn. As he was
+looking about, an old man came down the garden path and smiled so
+kindly upon him that he trusted him at once. This old man was dressed
+in the robes of a bishop, and had a long white beard and the sweetest
+old face the child had ever seen.
+
+"Art thou searching for the way home?" the old man asked. "Dost thou
+wish to leave this beautiful garden and go back to thy father and
+mother?"
+
+"I want to go home," said the child, with a sob in his voice, "but I
+cannot find the way, and I am, oh, so tired of searching for it."
+
+Then the old man stooped down and lifted him in his arms, and the
+child laid his head on the old man's shoulder, and, weary with his
+wandering, fell fast asleep and remembered nothing more till he woke
+up in his own little bed.
+
+Then the parents knew that Saint Nicholas had heard their prayers and
+had gone to fetch the child from the Heavenly Garden and brought him
+back to them.
+
+So they were more grateful to the good saint than ever, and they loved
+and honoured him even more than they had done before; which was all
+the reward the demon got for his wicked doings.
+
+That is one of the many stories told after the death of Saint
+Nicholas, and it ever helped and comforted his people to think that,
+though they could no longer see him he would love and protect them
+still.
+
+Young maidens in need of help remembered the story of the golden bars
+and felt sure the good saint would not let them want. Sailors tossing
+on the stormy waves thought of that storm which had sunk to rest at
+the prayer of Saint Nicholas. Poor prisoners with no one to take their
+part were comforted by the thought of those other prisoners whom he
+had saved. And little children perhaps have remembered him most of
+all, for when the happy Christmas time draws near, who is so much in
+their thoughts as Saint Nicholas, or Santa Claus, as they call him?
+Perhaps they are a little inclined to think of him as some good
+magician who comes to fill their stockings with gifts, but they should
+never forget that he was the kind bishop who, in olden days, loved to
+make the little ones happy. There are some who think that even now he
+watches over and protects little children, and for that reason he is
+called their patron saint.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS BELLS
+
+
+ I heard the bells on Christmas Day
+ Their old, familiar carols play,
+ And wild and sweet
+ The words repeat
+ Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
+
+ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
+
+
+
+
+A NIGHT WITH SANTA CLAUS
+
+Anna R. Annan
+
+
+Not very long ago, and not far from here, lived a little boy named
+Bobby Morgan. Now I must tell at once how Bobby looked, else how will
+you know him if you meet him in the street? Blue-eyed was Rob, and
+fair-haired, and pug-nosed--just the sweetest trifle, his mother said.
+
+Well, the day before Christmas, Rob thought it would be a fine thing
+to run down Main Street and see what was going on. After dinner his
+mother put on his fur cap and bright scarf, and filled his pockets
+with crackers and cookies. She told him to be very polite to Santa
+Claus if he should happen to meet him.
+
+Off he trotted, merry as a cricket, with now a skip and now a slide.
+At every corner he held his breath, half expecting to run into Santa
+himself. Nothing of the sort happened, however, and he soon found
+himself before the gay windows of a toy shop.
+
+There he saw a spring hobby-horse, as large as a Shetland pony, all
+saddled and bridled, too,--lacking nothing but a rider. Rob pressed
+his nose against the glass, and tried to imagine the feelings of a boy
+in that saddle. He must have stood there all day, had not a ragged
+little fellow pulled his coat. "Wouldn't you jist like that popgun?"
+he piped.
+
+"Catch me looking at popguns!" said Rob shortly. But when he saw how
+tattered the boy's jacket was he said more softly, "P'r'raps you'd
+like a cooky."
+
+"Try me wunst!" said the shrill little voice.
+
+There was a queer lump in Rob's throat as he emptied one pocket of its
+cakes and thrust them into the dirty, eager hands. Then he marched
+down the street without so much as glancing at that glorious steed
+again.
+
+Brighter and brighter grew the windows, more and more full of toys. At
+last our boy stood, with open eyes and mouth, before a great store
+lighted from top to bottom, for it was growing dark. Rob came near
+taking off his cap and saying, "How do you do, sir?"
+
+To whom, you ask. Why, to an image of Santa Claus, the size of life,
+holding a Christmas tree filled with wonderful fruit.
+
+Soon a happy thought struck Rob. "Surely this must be Santa Claus's
+own store, where he comes to fill his basket with toys! What if I were
+to hide there and wait for him?"
+
+As I said, he was a brave little chap, and he walked straight into the
+store with the stream of big people. Everybody was busy. No one had
+time to look at our mite of a Rob. He tried in vain to find a quiet
+corner, till he caught sight of some winding stairs that led up to the
+next story. He crept up, scarcely daring to breathe.
+
+What a fairyland! Toys everywhere! Oceans of toys! Nothing but toys,
+excepting one happy little boy. Think of fifty great rocking-horses in
+a pile; of whole flocks of woolly sheep and curly dogs with the real
+bark in them; stacks of drums; regiments of soldiers armed to the
+teeth; companies of firemen drawing their hose carts; no end of
+wheelbarrows and velocipedes!
+
+Rob screwed his knuckles into his eyes, as a gentle hint that they had
+better not play him any tricks, and then stared with might and main.
+
+Suddenly Rob thought he heard a footstep on the stairs. Fearing to be
+caught, he hid behind a baby-wagon. No one came, however, and as he
+felt rather hungry, he took out the remaining cakes and had a fine
+supper.
+
+Why didn't Santa Claus come?
+
+Rob was really getting sleepy. He stretched out his tired legs, and,
+turning one of the woolly sheep on its side, pillowed his curly head
+upon it. It was so nice to lie there, looking up at the ceiling hung
+with toys, and with the faint hum of voices in his ears. The blue eyes
+grew more and more heavy. Rob was fast asleep.
+
+Midnight! The bells rang loud and clear, as if they had great news to
+tell the world. What noise is that besides the bells? And look, oh,
+look! Who is that striding up the room with a great basket on his
+back? He has stolen his coat from a polar bear, and his cap, too, I
+declare! His boots are of red leather and reach to his knees. His coat
+and cap are trimmed with wreaths of holly, bright with scarlet
+berries.
+
+Good sir, let us see your face--why! that is the best part of him,--so
+round, and so ruddy, such twinkling eyes, and such a merry look about
+those dimples! But see his long white beard; can he be old?
+
+Oh, very, very old. Over nineteen hundred years. Is that not a long
+life, little ones? But he has a young heart, this dear old man, and a
+kind one. Can you guess his name? "Hurrah for Santa Claus!" Right--the
+very one.
+
+He put his basket down near Robby, and with his back turned to him
+shook the snow from his fur coat. Some of the flakes fell on Rob's
+face and roused him from his sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw the white
+figure, but did not stir nor cry out, lest the vision should vanish.
+
+But bless his big heart! He had no idea of vanishing till his night's
+work was done. He took a large book from his pocket, opened to the
+first page, and looked at it very closely.
+
+"Tommy Turner," was written at the top, and just below was a little
+map--yes, there was Tommy's heart mapped out like a country. Part of
+the land was marked good, part of it bad. Here and there were little
+flags to point out places where battles had been fought during the
+year. Some of them were black and some white; wherever a good feeling
+had won the fight there was a white one.
+
+"Tommy Turner," said Santa Claus aloud, "six white flags, three black
+ones. That leaves only three presents for Tommy; but we must see what
+can be done for him."
+
+So he bustled among the toys, and soon had a ball, a horse, and a
+Noah's ark tied up in a parcel, which he tossed into the basket.
+
+Name after name was read off, some of them belonging to Rob's
+playmates, and you may be sure that the little boy listened with his
+heart in his mouth.
+
+"Robby Morgan!" said Santa Claus.
+
+In his excitement that small lad nearly upset the cart, but Santa did
+not notice it.
+
+"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven"--Rob's breath came very
+short--"whites!"
+
+He almost clapped his hands.
+
+"One, two, three, blacks! Now I wonder what that little chap would
+like--here's a drum, a box of tools, a knife, a menagerie. If he
+hadn't run away from school that day and then told a lie about it I'd
+give him a rocking-horse."
+
+Rob groaned in anguish of spirit.
+
+"But, bless him! he's a fine little fellow, and perhaps he will do
+better next year if I give him the horse."
+
+That was too much for our boy. With a "Hurrah!" he jumped up and
+turned a somersault right at Santa Claus's feet.
+
+"Stars and stripes!" cried Santa. "What's this?"
+
+"Come along, I'll show you the one!" cried Rob.
+
+Santa Claus allowed himself to be led off to the pile of horses. You
+may believe that Rob's sharp eyes soon picked out the one with the
+longest tail and the thickest mane.
+
+"Well, he beats all the boys that ever I saw! What shall I do with the
+little spy?"
+
+"Oh, dear Santa Claus," cried Robby, hugging the red boots, "do just
+take me along with you. I'll stick tight when you slide down the
+chimney."
+
+"Yes, I guess you will stick tight--in the chimney, my little man."
+
+"I mean to your back," half sobbed Rob.
+
+Santa Claus can't bear to see little folks in trouble, so he took the
+boy into his arms, and asked where he wanted to go.
+
+"To Tommy Turner's, and, oh, you know, that boy in the awful old
+jacket that likes popguns," was the breathless reply.
+
+Of course he knew him, for he knows every boy and girl in Christendom;
+so a popgun was added to the medley of toys. Santa Claus then strapped
+Rob and the basket on his back. He next crept through an open window
+to a ladder he had placed there, down which he ran as nimbly as a
+squirrel. The reindeer before the sledge were in a hurry to be off,
+and tinkled their silver bells right merrily. An instant more and they
+were snugly tucked up in the white robes; an instant more and they
+were flying like the wind over the snow.
+
+Ah! Tommy's home. Santa Claus sprang out, placed the light ladder
+against the house, and before Rob could wink a good fair wink they
+were on the roof, making for the chimney. Whether it swallowed him, or
+he swallowed it, is still a puzzle to Robby.
+
+Tommy lay sleeping in his little bed and dreaming of a merry
+Christmas. His rosy mouth was puckered into something between a
+whistle and a smile. Rob longed to give him a friendly punch, but
+Santa Claus shook his head. They filled his stocking and hurried away,
+for empty little stockings the world over were waiting for that
+generous hand.
+
+On they sped again, never stopping until they came to a wretched
+little hovel. A black pipe instead of a chimney was sticking through
+the roof.
+
+Rob thought, "Now I guess he'll have to give it up." But no, he softly
+pushed the door open and stepped in.
+
+On a ragged cot lay the urchin to whom Robby had given the cookies.
+One of them, half eaten, was still clutched in his hand. Santa Claus
+gently opened the other little fist and put the popgun into it.
+
+"Give him my drum," whispered Rob, and Santa Claus, without a word,
+placed it near the rumpled head.
+
+How swiftly they flew under the bright stars! How sweetly rang the
+bells!
+
+When Santa Claus reined up at Robby's door he found his little comrade
+fast asleep. He laid him tenderly in his crib, and drew off a
+stocking, which he filled with the smaller toys. The rocking-horse he
+placed close to the crib, that Rob might mount him on Christmas
+morning.
+
+A kiss, and he was gone.
+
+P.S.--Rob's mother says it was all a dream, but he declares that "It's
+true as Fourth of July!" I prefer to take his word for it.
+
+
+
+
+A CHILD'S THOUGHTS ABOUT SANTA CLAUS
+
+
+ What do you think my grandmother said,
+ Telling Christmas stories to me
+ To-night, when I went and coaxed and coaxed
+ With my head and arms upon her knee?
+
+ She thinks--she really told me so--
+ That good Mr. Santa Claus, long ago,
+ Was as old and grey as he is to-day,
+ Going around with his loaded sleigh.
+
+ She thinks he's driven through frost and snow
+ For a hundred, yes, a thousand times or so,
+ With jingling bells and a bag of toys--
+ Ho, ho! for good girls and boys,
+ With a carol gay,
+ Crying, "Clear the way,
+ For a rollicking, merry Christmas day!"
+ Grandmother knows almost everything--
+ All that I ask her she can tell;
+ Rivers and towns in geography,
+ And the hardest words she can always spell.
+ But the wisest ones, sometimes, they say,
+ Mistake--and even grandmother may.
+
+ If Santa Claus never had been a boy
+ How would he always know so well
+ What all the boys are longing for
+ On Christmas day? Can grandmother tell?
+
+ Why does he take the shiny rings,
+ The baby houses, the dolls with curls,
+ The little lockets and other such things
+ Never to boys, but always to girls?
+
+ Why does he take the skates and all
+ The bats and balls, and arrows and bows,
+ And trumpets and drums, and guns--hurrah!
+ To the boys? I wonder if grandmother knows?
+
+ But there's one thing that doesn't seem right--
+ If Santa Claus was a boy at play
+ And hung up his stocking on Christmas night,
+ Who filled it for him on Christmas day?
+
+ Sydney Dayre.
+
+
+
+
+CHARITY IN A COTTAGE
+
+Jean Ingelow
+
+
+The charity of the rich is much to be commended; but how beautiful is
+the charity of the poor!
+
+Call to mind the coldest day you ever experienced. Think of the bitter
+wind and driving snow; think how you shook and shivered--how the sharp
+white particles were driven up against your face--how, within doors,
+the carpets were lifted like billows along the floors, the wind howled
+and moaned in the chimneys, windows cracked, doors rattled, and every
+now and then heavy lumps of snow came thundering down with a dull
+weight from the roof.
+
+Now hear my story.
+
+In one of the broad, open plains of Lincolnshire, there is a long
+reedy sheet of water, a favourite resort of wild ducks. At its
+northern extremity stand two mud cottages, old, and out of repair.
+
+One bitter, bitter night, when the snow lay three feet deep on the
+ground, and a cutting east wind was driving it about, and whistling in
+the dry frozen reeds by the water's edge, and swinging the bare willow
+trees till their branches swept the ice, an old woman sat spinning in
+one of these cottages before a moderately cheerful fire. Her kettle
+was singing on the coals, she had a reed candle, or home-made
+rushlight, on her table, but the full moon shone in, and was the
+brighter light of the two. These two cottages were far from any road,
+or any other habitation; the old woman was, therefore, surprised, in
+an old northern song, by a sudden knock at the door.
+
+It was loud and impatient, not like the knock of her neighbours in the
+other cottage; but the door was bolted, and the old woman rose, and
+shuffling to the window, looked out and saw a shivering figure,
+apparently that of a youth.
+
+"Trampers!" said the old woman, sententiously, "tramping folks be not
+wanted here." So saying she went back to the fire without deigning to
+answer the door.
+
+The youth upon this tried the door, and called to her to beg
+admittance. She heard him rap the snow from his shoes against her
+lintel, and again knock as if he thought she was deaf, and he should
+surely gain admittance if he could make her hear.
+
+The old woman, surprised at his audacity, went to the casement and
+with all the pride of possession, opened it and inquired his business.
+
+"Good woman," the stranger began, "I only want a seat at your fire."
+
+"Nay," said the old woman, giving effect to her words by her uncouth
+dialect, "thou'll get no shelter here; I've nought to give to
+beggars--a dirty, wet critter," she continued wrathfully, slamming to
+the window. "It's a wonder where he found any water, too, seeing it
+freeze so hard a body can get none for the kettle, saving what's
+broken up with a hatchet."
+
+The stranger turned very hastily from her door and waded through the
+deep snow towards the other cottage. The bitter wind helped to drive
+him towards it. It looked no less poor than the first; and when he had
+tried the door and found it bolted and fast, his heart sank within
+him. His hand was so numbed with cold that he had made scarcely any
+noise; he tried again.
+
+A rush candle was burning within and a matronly looking woman sat
+before the fire. She held an infant in her arms and had dropped
+asleep; but his third knock aroused her, and wrapping her apron round
+the child, she opened the door a very little way, and demanded what he
+wanted.
+
+"Good woman," the youth began, "I have had the misfortune to fall in
+the water this bitter night, and I am so numbed I can scarcely walk."
+
+The woman gave him a sudden earnest look and then sighed.
+
+"Come in," she said; "thou art so nigh the size of my Jem, I thought
+at first it was him come home from sea."
+
+The youth stepped across the threshold, trembling with cold and wet;
+and no wonder, for his clothes were completely encased in wet mud,
+and the water dripped from them with every step he took on the sanded
+floor.
+
+"Thou art in a sorry plight," said the woman, "and it be two miles to
+the nighest house; come and kneel down afore the fire; thy teeth
+chatter so pitifully I can scarce bear to hear them."
+
+She looked at him more attentively and saw that he was a mere boy, not
+more than sixteen years of age. Her motherly heart was touched for
+him. "Art hungry?" she asked, turning to the table. "Thou art wet to
+the skin. What hast been doing?"
+
+"Shooting wild ducks," said the boy.
+
+"Oh," said the hostess, "thou art one of the keeper's boys, then, I
+reckon?"
+
+He followed the direction of her eyes, and saw two portions of bread
+set upon the table, with a small piece of bacon on each.
+
+"My master be very late," she observed, for charity did not make her
+use elegant language, and by her master she meant her husband; "but
+thou art welcome to my bit and sup, for I was waiting for him. Maybe
+it will put a little warmth in thee to eat and drink." So saying, she
+placed before him her own share of the supper.
+
+"Thank you," said the boy; "but I am so wet I am making quite a pool
+before your fire with the drippings from my clothes."
+
+"Aye, they are wet indeed," said the woman, and rising again she went
+to an old box, in which she began to search, and presently came to the
+fire with a perfectly clean check shirt in her hand and a tolerably
+good suit of clothes.
+
+"There," said she, showing them with no small pride, "these be my
+master's Sunday clothes, and if thou wilt be very careful of them I'll
+let thee wear them till thine be dry." She then explained that she was
+going to put her "bairn" to bed, and proceeded up a ladder into the
+room above, leaving the boy to array himself in these respectable
+garments.
+
+When she had come down her guest had dressed himself in the labourer's
+clothes; he had had time to warm himself, and he was eating and
+drinking with hungry relish. He had thrown his muddy clothes in a heap
+upon the floor. As she looked at him she said:
+
+"Ah, lad, lad, I doubt that head been under water: thy poor mother
+would have been sorely frightened if she could have seen thee a while
+ago."
+
+"Yes," said the boy; and in imagination the cottage dame saw this same
+mother, a careworn, hard-working creature like herself; while the
+youthful guest saw in imagination a beautiful and courtly lady; and
+both saw the same love, the same anxiety, the same terror, at sight of
+a lonely boy struggling in the moonlight through breaking ice, with no
+one to help him, catching at the frozen reeds, and then creeping up,
+shivering and benumbed, to a cottage door.
+
+But, even as she stooped, the woman forgot her imagination, for she
+had taken a waistcoat into her hands, such as had never passed between
+them before; a gold pencil-case dropped from the pocket; and on the
+floor amidst a heap of mud that covered the outer garments, lay a
+white shirt sleeve, so white, indeed, and so fine, that she thought it
+could hardly be worn by a squire!
+
+She glanced from the clothes to the owner. He had thrown down his
+cap, and his fair curly hair and broad forehead convinced her that he
+was of gentle birth; but while she hesitated to sit down, he placed a
+chair for her, and said with boyish frankness:
+
+"I say, what a lonely place this is! If you had not let me in, the
+water would have frozen me before I reached home. Catch me
+duck-shooting again by myself!"
+
+"It's very cold sport that, sir," said the woman.
+
+The young gentleman assented most readily, and asked if he might stir
+the fire.
+
+"And welcome, sir," said the woman.
+
+She felt a curiosity to know who he was, and he partly satisfied her
+by remarking that he was staying at Deen Hall, a house about five
+miles off, adding that in the morning he had broken a hole in the ice
+very near the decoy, but it iced over so fast, that in the dusk he had
+missed it, and fallen in, for it would not bear him. He had made some
+landmarks, and taken every proper precaution, but he supposed the
+sport had excited him so much that in the moonlight he had passed them
+by.
+
+He then told her of his attempt to get shelter in the other cottage.
+
+"Sir," said the woman, "if you had said you were a gentleman----"
+
+The boy laughed. "I don't think I knew it, my good woman," he replied,
+"my senses were so benumbed; for I was some time struggling at the
+water's edge among the broken ice, and then I believe I was nearly an
+hour creeping up to your cottage door. I remember it all rather
+indistinctly, but as soon as I had felt the fire and eaten something I
+was a different creature."
+
+As they still talked, the husband came in; and while he was eating his
+supper it was agreed that he should walk to Deen Hall, and let its
+inmates know of the gentleman's safety. When he was gone the woman
+made up the fire with all the coal that remained to the poor
+household, and crept up to bed, leaving her guest to lie down and rest
+before it.
+
+In the grey dawn the labourer returned, with a servant leading a
+horse, and bringing a fresh suit of clothes.
+
+The young man took his leave with many thanks, slipping three
+half-crowns into the woman's hand, probably all the money he had about
+him. And I must not forget to mention that he kissed the baby; for
+when she tells the story, the mother always adverts to that
+circumstance with great pride, adding that her child, being as "clean
+as wax, was quite fit to be kissed by anybody."
+
+"Misses," said her husband, as they stood in the doorway looking after
+their guest, "who dost think that be?"
+
+"I don't know," answered the misses.
+
+"Then I'll just tell thee; that be young Lord W----; so thou mayest be
+a proud woman; thou sits and talks with lords, and then asks them to
+supper--ha, ha!"
+
+So saying, her master shouldered his spade and went his way, leaving
+her clinking the three half-crowns in her hand, and considering what
+she should do with them.
+
+Her neighbour from the other cottage presently stepped in, and when
+she heard the tale and saw the money her heart was ready to break with
+envy and jealousy.
+
+"Oh, to think that good luck should have come to her door, and she
+should have been so foolish as to turn it away! Seven shillings and
+sixpence for a morsel of food and a night's shelter--why it was nearly
+a week's wages!"
+
+So there, as they both supposed, the matter ended, and the next week
+the frost was sharper than ever. Sheep were frozen in the fenny field
+and poultry on their perches, but the good woman had walked to the
+nearest town and bought a blanket. It was a welcome addition to their
+bed covering, and it was many a long year since they had been so
+comfortable.
+
+But it chanced one day at noon that, looking out at her casement she
+spied three young gentlemen skating along the ice towards her cottage.
+They sprang on to the bank, took off their skates, and made for her
+door. The young nobleman, for he was one of the three, informed her
+that he had had such a severe cold he could not come to see her
+before. "He spoke as free and pleasantly," she said, in telling the
+story, "as if I had been a lady, and no less, and then he brought a
+parcel out of his pocket, saying, 'I have been over to B---- and
+brought you a book for a keepsake, and I hope you will accept it;' and
+then they all talked as pretty as could be for a matter of ten
+minutes, and went away. So I waited till my master came home, and we
+opened the parcel, and there was a fine Bible inside, all over gold
+and red morocco, and my name and his name written inside; and, bless
+him, a ten-pound note doubled down over the names. I'm sure, when I
+thought he was a poor forlorn creature, he was kindly welcome. So my
+master laid out part of the money in tools, and we rented a garden;
+and he goes over on market days to sell what we grow, so now, thank
+God, we want for nothing."
+
+This is how she generally concludes the little history, never failing
+to add that the young lord kissed her baby.
+
+But I have not yet told you what I thought the best part of the story.
+When this poor Christian woman was asked what had induced her to take
+in a perfect stranger and trust him with the best clothing her home
+afforded, she answered simply, "Well, I saw him shivering and shaking,
+so I thought, thou shalt come in here, for the sake of Him that had
+not where to lay His head."
+
+The old woman in the other cottage may open her door every night of
+her future life to some forlorn beggar, but it is all but certain that
+she will never open it to a nobleman in disguise!
+
+Let us do good, not to receive more good in return, but as evidence of
+gratitude for what has been already bestowed. In a few words, let it
+be "all for love and nothing for reward."
+
+"The most excellent gift is charity."
+
+
+
+
+THE WAITS
+
+
+ At the break of Christmas Day,
+ Through the frosty starlight ringing,
+ Faint and sweet and far away,
+ Comes the sound of children, singing,
+ Chanting, singing,
+ "Cease to mourn,
+ For Christ is born,
+ Peace and joy to all men bringing!"
+
+ Careless that the chill winds blow,
+ Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,
+ Noiseless footfalls in the snow
+ Bring the happy voices nearer;
+ Hear them singing,
+ "Winter's drear,
+ But Christ is here,
+ Mirth and gladness with Him bringing!"
+
+ "Merry Christmas!" hear them say,
+ As the East is growing lighter;
+ "May the joy of Christmas Day
+ Make your whole year gladder, brighter!"
+ Join their singing,
+ "To each home
+ Our Christ has come,
+ All love's treasures with Him bringing!"
+
+ Margaret Deland.
+
+
+
+
+WHERE LOVE IS THERE GOD IS ALSO
+
+Leo Tolstoi
+
+
+Martuin, the shoemaker, lived in a city of Russia. His house was a
+little basement room with one window. Through this window he used to
+watch the people walking past. He was so far below the street that
+from his bench he could see only the feet of the passers-by but he
+knew them all by their boots. Nearly every pair of boots in the
+neighbourhood had been in his hands once and again. Some he would half
+sole, and some he would patch, some he would stitch around, and
+occasionally he would also put on new uppers. "Ah," he would say to
+himself, "there goes the baker. That was a fine piece of leather."
+Martuin always had plenty to do because he was a faithful workman,
+used good materials, and always finished an order as early as he
+promised it.
+
+In the evening when his work was done he would light his little oil
+lamp, take his book down from the shelf and begin to read. He had but
+one book, a Bible, and as he read he thought of the wonderful
+Christ-child. "Ah," he cried one night, "if He would only come to me
+and be my guest. If He should come, I wonder how I should receive
+Him." Martuin rested his head upon his hands and dozed. "Martuin," a
+voice seemed suddenly to sound in his ears.
+
+He started from his sleep. "Who is here?" He looked around but there
+was no one.
+
+Again he fell into a doze. Suddenly he plainly heard, "Martuin, ah,
+Martuin! Look to-morrow on the street. I am coming."
+
+At daybreak next morning Martuin woke, said his prayer, put his
+cabbage soup and gruel on to cook and sat down by the window to work.
+He worked hard but all the time he was thinking of the voice that he
+had heard. "Was it a dream," he said to himself, "or is He coming?
+Shall I really see Him to-day?" When anyone passed by in boots that he
+did not know he would bend down close to the window so that he could
+see the face as well as the boots.
+
+By and by an old, old man came along; he carried a shovel. It was
+Stephanwitch. Martuin knew him by his old felt boots. He was very poor
+and helped the house porter with all the hard work. Now he began to
+shovel away the snow from in front of Martuin's window. Martuin looked
+up eagerly.
+
+"Pshaw," said Martuin, "old Stephanwitch is clearing away the snow and
+I imagined the Christ-child was coming to see me." He looked again.
+How old and feeble Stephanwitch looked.
+
+"He is cold and weary," thought Martuin. "I will call him in and give
+him a cup of tea, the samovar must be boiling by now."
+
+He laid down his awl, made the tea, and tapped on the window. "Come in
+and warm yourself," he said.
+
+"May Christ reward you for this! My bones ache," said Stephanwitch.
+
+Stephanwitch shook off the snow and tried to wipe his feet so as not
+to soil the floor, but he staggered from cold and weariness.
+
+"Never mind that, I will clean it up. We are used to such things. Sit
+down and drink a cup of tea," said Martuin heartily.
+
+Martuin filled two cups and handed one to Stephanwitch who drank it
+eagerly, turned it upside down, and began to express his thanks.
+
+"Have some more?" said Martuin, refilling the cup.
+
+"Are you expecting anyone?" asked Stephanwitch. "I see you keep
+turning to look on the street."
+
+"I am ashamed to tell you whom I expect. I am, and I am not, expecting
+someone. You see, brother, I was reading about the Christ and how He
+walked on earth and I thought, 'If He came to me, should I know how to
+receive Him?' and I heard a voice, 'Be on the watch, I shall come
+to-morrow.' It is absurd, yet would you believe it, I am expecting
+Him, the Christ-child."
+
+Stephanwitch shook his head but said nothing.
+
+Martuin filled his guest's cup with hot tea and continued, "You see I
+have an idea He would come to the simple people. He picked out His
+disciples from simple working people like us. Come, brother, have
+some more tea."
+
+But Stephanwitch rose. "Thanks to you, Martuin, for treating me kindly
+and warming me, soul and body."
+
+"You are welcome, brother, come again."
+
+Stephanwitch departed. Martuin put away the dishes and sat down by the
+window to stitch on a patch. He kept looking out as he stitched.
+
+Two soldiers passed by; one wore boots that Martuin had made; then the
+master of the next house; then a baker. Then there came a woman in
+woolen stockings and wooden shoes. Martuin looked up through the
+window. He saw she was a stranger poorly clad in shabby summer
+clothes. She had turned her back to the wind and was trying to shelter
+a little child who was crying.
+
+Martuin went to the door and called out, "Why are you standing there
+in the cold? Come into my room where it is warm."
+
+The woman was astonished when she saw the old, old man in his leather
+apron and big spectacles beckoning and calling to her, but she gladly
+followed him.
+
+"There," said Martuin, "sit down near the stove and warm yourself."
+Then he brought out bread, poured out cabbage soup, and took up the
+pot with the gruel.
+
+"Eat, eat," he said. "I will mind the little one. Tell me, why are you
+out in this bitter cold?"
+
+"I am a soldier's wife, but my husband has been sent far away. We have
+used up our money and I went to-day for work but they told me to come
+again."
+
+Martuin sighed. "Have you no warm clothes?"
+
+"Ah, this is the time to wear them, but yesterday I sold my last warm
+shawl for food."
+
+Martuin sighed. He went to the little cupboard and found an old coat.
+"Take it," he said. "It is a poor thing, yet it may help you." He
+slipped some money into her hand and with this said, "Buy yourself a
+shawl and food till work shall be found."
+
+"May Christ bless you!" she cried. "He must have sent me to you. It
+had grown so cold my little child would have frozen to death, but He,
+the Christ-child, led you to look through the window."
+
+"Indeed He did," said Martuin, smiling.
+
+The woman left. Martuin ate some sheki, washed the dishes, and sat
+down again by the window to work. A shadow darkened the window.
+Martuin looked up eagerly. It was only an acquaintance who lived a
+little further down the street. Again the window grew dark. This time
+Martuin saw that an old apple woman had stopped right in front of the
+window. She carried a basket with apples and over her shoulder she had
+a bag full of chips. One could see that the bag was heavy. She lowered
+it to the sidewalk and as she did so, she set the apples on a little
+post. A little boy with a torn cap darted up, picked an apple out of
+the basket and started to run but the old woman caught him, knocked
+off his cap, and seized him by the hair.
+
+Martuin ran out in the cold. "Let him go, Babushka; forgive him for
+Christ's sake."
+
+"I will forgive him so that he won't forget it till the new broom
+grows! I am going to take him to the police."
+
+"Let him go, Babushka, let him go for Christ's sake. He will never do
+it again."
+
+The old woman let him loose. The boy tried to run, but Martuin kept
+him back.
+
+"Ask Babushka's forgiveness," he said, "and never do it again. I saw
+you take the apple."
+
+With tears in his eyes the boy began to ask forgiveness.
+
+"There, that's all right," said Martuin; "take the apple. I will pay
+for it."
+
+"You ruin the good-for-nothings," said the old woman. "He should be
+well punished. He deserves it."
+
+"Perhaps," answered Martuin, "but God forgives us though we deserve it
+not."
+
+"Well, well," said the old woman, appeased, "after all it was but a
+childish trick." She started to lift the bag upon her shoulder.
+
+"Let me take it," said the boy. "It is on my way."
+
+Side by side they passed along the street, the boy carrying the bag
+and chattering to the old woman. Martuin turned and went back into the
+little room.
+
+After sewing a little while it grew too dark to see. He lighted his
+little lamp, finished his piece of work, put it away, and took down
+his Bible. Suddenly he seemed to hear someone stepping around behind
+him. In the dark corner there seemed to be people standing. Then he
+heard a voice, "Martuin, ah, Martuin, did you not know me?"
+
+"Who?" cried Martuin.
+
+"It is I," replied the voice, and Stephanwitch stepped forth from the
+dark corner, smiled, and faded away like a little cloud.
+
+"And this is I!" said the voice again, and from the dark corner
+stepped the woman and the child. The woman smiled, the child laughed,
+and then they, too, vanished.
+
+"And this is I!" and the old woman and the boy stepped forward,
+smiled, and vanished. Then a light filled the little room and glowed
+about the figure of a Child and Martuin heard the words:
+
+"For I was an hungered and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave
+me drink; I was a stranger and ye took me in." And Martuin knew that
+the Christ-child had really come to him that Christmas-tide.
+(_Adapted._)
+
+
+
+
+GOD REST YE, MERRY GENTLEMEN
+
+
+ God rest ye, merry gentlemen,
+ Let nothing you dismay,
+ For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
+ Was born upon this day,
+ To save us all from Satan's pow'r
+ When we were gone astray.
+ O tidings of comfort and joy!
+ For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
+ Was born on Christmas Day.
+
+ Now to the Lord sing praises,
+ All you within this place,
+ And with true love and brotherhood
+ Each other now embrace;
+ This holy tide of Christmas
+ All others doth deface.
+ O tidings of comfort and joy!
+ For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
+ Was born on Christmas Day.
+
+ Dinah Mulock Craik.
+
+
+
+
+THE GLAD NEW YEAR
+
+
+
+
+THE GLAD NEW YEAR
+
+
+ It's coming, boys,
+ It's almost here.
+ It's coming, girls,
+ The grand New Year.
+
+ A year to be glad in,
+ Not to be sad in;
+ A year to live in,
+ To gain and give in.
+
+ A year for trying,
+ And not for sighing;
+ A year for striving
+ And healthy thriving.
+
+ It's coming, boys,
+ It's almost here.
+ It's coming, girls,
+ The grand New Year.
+
+ Mary Mapes Dodge.
+
+
+
+
+THE BAD LITTLE GOBLIN'S NEW YEAR
+
+Mary Stewart
+
+
+Come, children dear, let's sit on the floor around the fire, so, and
+watch those golden flames dancing and leaping. You see that very gay
+one just springing up the chimney? I know a story about him, a New
+Year's story. Let's snuggle up closer and look into the fire. You see
+that piece of coal black wood, there at the end? There was a horrid
+little goblin once who was as black as that bit of wood. His clothes
+were all black, his round cap looked like a bit of coal, his pointed
+shoes were jet black, and his face was dark with dirt and an ugly
+scowling expression. Altogether he was a horrid looking goblin, and he
+was just as hateful as he looked. There wasn't a single person who
+liked him. The birds hated him because he would wait after dark when
+all the baby birds were cuddled down in the nest, fast asleep. Then
+he would pop up from under the nest where he had been hiding and cry,
+"Morning time, wake up!" and all the babies would cry, "Chirp, chirp,
+Daddy bring us our breakfast!" They opened their bills so wide that it
+took a long time to shut them and put the excited babies to sleep
+again. Once Blackie, that was the goblin's name, dropped a bit of twig
+down into a baby's open bill and the poor bird coughed so hard that he
+kept the birds in the nests around awake all night. Blackie chuckled
+with glee and went scurrying off on another prank.
+
+While the mother bunnies were asleep he painted the tiny white flags
+they wear under their tails with brown mud from the marsh. When
+morning-time really did come and the mother bunnies woke up and called
+to their children to follow them, the little bunnies couldn't see any
+white flags on their mothers' tails to follow, and all got lost in the
+long grass. It took the whole day to gather them together, and still
+longer to get those flags clean again.
+
+Blackie jumped for joy. The mother bunnies would have liked to reach
+him with their sharp claws, but he was too quick for them.
+
+Then Blackie found the holes where the squirrels had hidden their nuts
+for the winter. It had taken months to gather them, but Blackie waited
+until they were out hunting again, and he carried all the nuts away
+and hid them in the roots of an old tree where they would never think
+of looking!
+
+That wasn't all! Blackie did one last thing so terrible that I don't
+like to tell you about it. He waited until a robin's nest was full of
+lovely blue eggs and the father bird was off in search of worms. Then
+he made such a rustling in the next tree that the mother bird flew off
+to see what it was, and while she was gone--Blackie danced upon the
+eggs until they were all broken!
+
+That filled the timid wood creatures with fury. The birds, the
+rabbits, and the squirrels rushed upon the goblin and drove him before
+them. The birds pecked him with their beaks, and the squirrels and
+rabbits hopped after him with their claws outstretched. Away ran
+Blackie, really frightened at last, faster and faster until he reached
+the darkest part of the whole forest. There he jumped into a hole in a
+tree, curling himself up so tightly that his round cap touched his
+pointed shoes, and while he trembled with fear he heard the birds and
+bunnies and squirrels go tearing past, thinking that the wicked little
+goblin was still running ahead of them.
+
+When they had all gone, Blackie peeked out of his hole. Oh, how
+terribly quiet it was! Not a bird chirped, not a squirrel or a rabbit
+or a woodchuck lived there. It was so quiet and so dark and so lonely
+that Blackie began to feel quite forlorn. "I would almost be polite to
+a tree toad!" he thought, but not even a croak or a buzz or a rustle
+broke the stillness. The bad little goblin put his head down upon his
+black knees and went to sleep; there was nothing else to do!
+
+The first sound which woke him up was, "Chop-chop!" He rubbed his eyes
+and peeked out. He saw woodcutters cutting down trees with their sharp
+axes. Then he saw them coming toward the tree where he was hiding.
+Shaking with terror, Blackie curled himself up into a tight ball.
+Chop-chop-crash! went the tree, and Blackie's head bumped hard against
+the top of his hole as, still inside it, he felt the tree fall to the
+ground. That was rather fun, and much excited he peeked out of a crack
+and watched the men fastening chains around the trees and loading them
+on wheels. His own tree went, too, and the next thing Blackie heard
+was saw-saw, as the tree was sawed into logs at a lumber yard. Again
+he rolled up tight, hoping the knives wouldn't cut him in two, and
+they didn't! He was still safe in his hole when his log was thrown
+with others, right down into a dark cellar. It was even drearier there
+than in the forest and Blackie began to long for some playfellows. "I
+wouldn't tease them. I'd just play with them nicely," he sighed, and
+two tears ran down his little black face, washing it almost clean.
+
+Then Blackie heard a strange new sound. It was gayer than a squirrel's
+chatter, sweeter than a bird's song,--it was a child's laughter! Where
+did it come from? Blackie stopped crying and listened. It came again
+and the laughter of other children mingled with it. Blackie peeked
+out. There was no one in the cellar. He crept out and tiptoed up the
+stairs, in search of those laughing voices. Hiding in the shadows so
+that no one could see him, he passed through the kitchen and on into a
+room full of sunshine and children. He ran in and hid behind a
+curtain, peeking out curiously. In the center of the room stood a
+little golden-haired girl, the one whose laughter he had first heard.
+But as Blackie watched her with delight he saw her pucker up her face
+as though she were going to cry. "My dolly, my dear dolly, I tan't
+find her!" she wailed. In a flash all the other boys and girls were
+searching under chairs and tables for the runaway dolly. They couldn't
+find her, but Blackie saw a pair of doll's feet poking out from under
+the sofa. He hopped swiftly across the floor, pulled the doll out by
+one leg and placed her on a chair beside the little girl.
+
+"Oh, see, my doll's tum back!" she cried, hugging her with joy. "She
+went for a walk and tame back again!" and taking the doll's two hands
+in hers she danced with her around the room. The other children
+danced, too, and their laughter rang out again. "She went for a walk
+and came back all herself!" they cried.
+
+Blackie thought he had never seen or heard anything so merry, it made
+him want to dance, also. Poor little black goblin whom the maid, if
+she had seen him, would have swept out of the room, mistaking him for
+a bit of coal!
+
+But Blackie took care that no one did see him. Except, perhaps, the
+children, I don't know whether anyone ever saw him or not. He spent
+most of the time with them, and somehow they seemed to know that he
+was there and that he was their friend. Every evening when they had
+their supper they put a bowl of milk in front of the fire for him, and
+when they came in to breakfast the bowl was always empty. I don't know
+how Blackie drank it without being seen, for he still slept in his log
+in the cellar and was asleep as soon as the children's heads touched
+their pillows. The children's mother was puzzled over that empty bowl,
+but she might have guessed there was a friendly goblin in the house
+by the way lost things were always turning up.
+
+"I can't find my thimble!" the mother would cry. "Come, children, and
+look for it!" On the floor, under the rug, in the flower pots, and on
+the tables hunted the children. But hiding behind the curtain Blackie
+had seen a bit of something gold shining through the tassels of the
+sofa. Quick as a flash, he pulled it out and placed it on the arm of
+the mother's chair. "Why, here it is!" she exclaimed. "How did it get
+there?" The children laughed and winked at each other, as though they
+understood, but how could they explain about the goblin to mother?
+
+Their father was always looking for his spectacles. Mother, the
+children, and all the maids would be called in to help search. Before
+Blackie came they often searched for hours, but he always found them
+in a twinkling, in a book, perhaps, or under the fender, and would
+place them right in front of father. "Gracious, look here, there must
+be some magic around!" he would cry, and the children would jump up
+and down with glee! They knew all about the magic. They guessed that
+a little black goblin was also jumping with delight behind the
+curtain!
+
+One morning,--it was New Year's Day,--Blackie slept longer than usual.
+He was curled up inside his log, so sound asleep that even the
+joggling of his home being carried upstairs didn't waken him. Then he
+was turned upside down, and, opening his eyes, he peeked out of the
+crack and found that the log was about to be thrown onto the blazing
+fire! Crash! it went. How very warm it was, and then Blackie heard the
+children laughing. He poked his head out and saw them all sitting in
+front of the fire, watching the blaze. All around Blackie red and
+yellow flames were dancing, so gay, so golden, so happy that Blackie
+forgot to be frightened. "I want to be gay, too!" he cried. "I want to
+laugh with the children and dance with the flames." His log caught
+fire, blazed up and out sprang Blackie,--a little black goblin no
+longer!
+
+Instead, he was the shiniest, most dancing golden flame that you ever
+saw! For a few moments he just danced up and down with delight, then,
+waving and bowing to the children, he cried, "Happy New Year! Happy
+New Year!" and sprang up the chimney. The children's glad voices
+echoed after him.
+
+When he reached the top he saw a glorious sight. The sun shining on
+the snow and ice turned the world into a sparkling Fairy-land, and the
+sky was as blue as forget-me-nots, or Polly's eyes, or the very bluest
+thing you have ever seen. Blackie danced with the sunbeams over the
+glittering ice until he almost ran into a flock of little birds
+huddled down in the snow, too cold to fly. Their feathers were ruffled
+and they looked very miserable. "Come play with me!" he cried, dancing
+around them. He was so gay and so beautiful that they forgot the cold,
+and flew in circles around him. "Come and join us!" he cried to a
+group of rabbits who were hunched up upon the snow, half-frozen. They
+hopped along slowly toward him and then--they, too, forgot the cold
+while they played games with the golden goblin and the birds, until
+they were all as merry as the sunbeams. "Happy New Year! Happy New
+Year!" they called to each other, and to the twinkling flame goblin.
+
+Then Blackie saw some squirrels curled up on the branches of a tree so
+miserable they couldn't even make-believe scamper. "What is the
+matter; do you want some nuts?" he cried. "Follow me!" And away he
+darted to the roots of the tree where, as a naughty little goblin, he
+had hidden their winter store. The squirrels followed slowly, but when
+they saw their treasure their eyes sparkled, their teeth chattered
+with delight, and they scampered back and forth from the tree root to
+their own holes, their paws full of nuts. They were as gay as Blackie
+himself. "Happy New Year! Happy New Year!" they cried to their
+gleaming friend, whom they never dreamed was the bad little goblin
+they had chased away the autumn before!
+
+So all day and for many days the goblin danced and sang and helped
+people and birds and the wood creatures. He twinkled as merrily in the
+sunshine out of doors as he did when he danced in the fire, warming
+the children and singing them songs.
+
+"It's like Happy New Year every day when the goblin is here!" cried
+the children, dancing as gayly on the hearth rug as the sprite was
+dancing within the fire. "There he is now, do you see him? He is
+dancing and crackling and crying to all of us, 'Happy New Year, Happy
+New Year!'"
+
+
+
+
+ Let others looke for Pearle and Gold,
+ Tissues, or Tabbies manifold;
+ One only lock of that sweet Hay
+ Whereon the blessed Babie lay,
+ Or one poore Swadling-clout, shall be
+ The richest New-Yeere's Gift to me.
+
+ Robert Herrick.
+
+
+
+
+THE QUEEN OF THE YEAR
+
+
+ When suns are low and nights are long
+ And winds bring wild alarms,
+ Through the darkness comes the Queen of the Year
+ In all her peerless charms,--
+ December, fair and holly-crowned,
+ With the Christ-child in her arms.
+
+ The maiden months are a stately train,
+ Veiled in the spotless snow,
+ Or decked with the bloom of Paradise
+ What time the roses blow,
+ Or wreathed with the vine and the yellow wheat
+ When the noons of harvest glow.
+
+ But, oh, the joy of the rolling year,
+ The queen with peerless charms,
+ Is she who comes through the waning light
+ To keep the world from harms,--
+ December, fair and holly-crowned,
+ With the Christ-child in her arms.
+
+ Edna Dean Proctor.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW YEAR'S BELL
+
+Andrea Hofer Proudfoot
+
+
+A-ring-a-ring, ring! A-ring-a-ring, ring!
+
+"Brother Carl, wake up! wake up! Don't you hear the great bell? Father
+is ringing the New Year in, don't you hear it, little Carl? Wake up!"
+
+Tangled-haired little Carl sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and after a
+few winks opened them wide.
+
+"Is it the wind, brother Hans, that sings so?"
+
+"No, no! It is the great bell; don't you hear it ring? It is ringing
+for the New Year."
+
+"Is father drawing the rope?" asked the little one.
+
+"Of course he is, little Carl; he is waking up the whole world that
+every one may wish a 'Happy New Year.' Come, let us go to the window."
+
+And the two little fellows crept out of their warm nest onto the cold
+floor, and over to the window in the gable.
+
+"Oh, see, there is father's lantern in the steeple window!" cried
+Carl.
+
+It threw its light into the frosty night; the clear stars cut sharp
+holes in the sky, and the air was so cold it made everything glisten.
+
+A-ring-a-ring, ring! clanged the great bell, and little Hans and Carl
+knew their father's arms were making it ring. The strokes were so
+strong that each one made little half-asleep Carl wink; and the stars
+seemed to wink back to him each time. He crept closer to Hans, and the
+two stood still with their arms about each other; the room was quite
+cold, but they did not mind it, for with each stroke the great bell
+seemed to ring more beautifully. It seemed so near them, as if ringing
+right in their ears, and the two little boys stood and listened with
+beating hearts.
+
+"I saw dear father trim his lantern," whispered Hans. "He set it near
+the door before we went to bed, all ready to light when the clock
+struck twelve. Mother said to him as he put the lantern there, 'Ring
+the bell good and strong, dear father, for who knows but this year may
+bring the great blessing which the Christ-child promised!' We must
+watch for it, little Carl."
+
+And the old bell seemed to speak louder and clearer to the little
+ones, as they eagerly listened for what it was telling.
+
+"Father says the bell will never ring from the old tower again, for
+the new one is being built," said Hans. "And what do you think,
+brother Carl, our dear mother wept because the old steeple must be
+broken down, and the dear bell, that is even now a-ringing, must be
+put into another great tower to ring."
+
+"Does the great bell know it, brother?"
+
+"No, dear little Carl; but no matter where it is put it will always
+ring, and be glad to wake the village for the New Year."
+
+"Will we go and say good-bye to the dear old bell, brother Hans?"
+whispered little Carl.
+
+"Yes, brother mine; when it is day we will go, for it has rung so many
+times for us."
+
+They crept out of the cold into their snug bed again, and the great
+strokes poured from the tower window long after the little curly
+heads were full of dreams.
+
+"Wake up, brother Hans! there is the sun."
+
+This time little Carl was the first to arise. Quickly they were both
+dressed, and, opening their door noiselessly, they went down the
+narrow stairs on tiptoe, and then out into the open air.
+
+A swift wind was blowing. It swept over the bare bushes and whirled
+the snow into the children's faces, and filled their curly hair with
+flakes. But the sun was smiling down on them and said: "See what a
+beautiful day I brought for a New Year's gift to you!"
+
+And the little ones passed through the church door, that was always
+open, and into the belfry tower. They knew the way, for father had so
+often taken them with him.
+
+They came to the long, dark ladder-way; but they did not mind the
+dark--for they knew the bell was at the top, and they bravely began to
+climb.
+
+Hans had wooden shoes, so he left them at the foot of the ladder. It
+is so much easier to climb a ladder with bare feet. Besides, he
+hardly felt the cold he was such a quick and lively little boy.
+
+Carl went ahead that brother Hans might the more easily help him. They
+climbed, up and up, and the brave big brother talked merrily all the
+time, to keep little Carl from thinking of the long, long way. Up and
+up they went. It became darker and darker. Little Carl led on and on,
+and he was glad that Hans was behind him.
+
+All at once a bright gleam of light greeted them from above, and they
+knew that soon they would be with the dear old bell.
+
+Through the opening they crept, and there the great bell hung and they
+stood beneath it. Hans could just touch it, and he felt its long
+tongue and saw the shining marks on its sides where it had struck in
+clanging for many, many years.
+
+It was very cold in the belfry. Little Carl tucked his hands under his
+blouse and gazed at the bell, while Hans explained to him what made
+the music and the great tolling tones that came from it.
+
+"The whole world loves the great bell, brother Carl," said Hans.
+"Mother thinks that last night it rang in the great blessing which the
+Christ-child had promised."
+
+"What did the little Christ-child promise, brother?"
+
+"Don't you remember, little Carl? Mother told us that the Christ-child
+would send little children a beautiful gift; I think it must be the
+New Year that he has sent, for that is what the old bell brought to us
+last night."
+
+And Hans lifted little Carl, and he kissed the beautiful bell on its
+great round lip, and the bell was still warm from its long ringing.
+
+And they stood and looked at the bell quietly for a long time. And
+then they said, "Good-bye, dear great bell," and they went down the
+dark ladder again.
+
+Hans put on his wooden shoes at the foot of the ladder, and with
+flying feet they crossed the church garden, and there stood the dear
+mother in the door looking for them. She had found their little bed
+empty, and was just starting out to find them.
+
+"Dear Mother, we have been in the tower to thank the great bell for
+bringing the New Year," cried Hans.
+
+"Did the Christ-child send it, Mother?" asked little Carl.
+
+The mother stooped and put her arms about them and kissed them both.
+As she led them into the room she said, "Yes, my little ones, the
+Christ-child sends the New Year."
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW YEAR
+
+
+ Snow-wrapped and holly-decked it comes,
+ To richest and to poorest homes.
+ Twelve jeweled months all set with days
+ Of priceless opportunities.
+ A silver moon, a golden sun,
+ With diamond stars when day is done;
+ Over all a sapphire sky
+ Where pearly clouds go floating by.
+
+ (_Selected._)
+
+
+
+
+THE CHILD AND THE YEAR
+
+
+ Said the child to the youthful year:
+ "What hast thou in store for me,
+ O giver of beautiful gifts! what cheer,
+ What joy dost thou bring with thee?"
+
+ "My seasons four shall bring
+ Their treasures: the winter's snows,
+ The autumn's store, and the flowers of spring,
+ And the summer's perfect rose.
+
+ "All these and more shall be thine,
+ Dear child--but the last and best
+ Thyself must earn by a strife divine,
+ If thou wouldst be truly blest."
+
+ Celia Thaxter.
+
+
+
+
+A MASQUE OF THE DAYS
+
+Charles Lamb
+
+
+The Old Year being dead, and the New Year coming of age, which he
+does, by calendar law as soon as the breath is out of the old
+gentleman's body, nothing would serve the young spark, but he must
+give a dinner upon the occasion, to which all the Days in the year
+were invited. The Festivals, whom he deputed as his stewards, were
+mightily taken with the notion. They had been engaged time out of
+mind, they said, in providing mirth and good cheer for mortals below,
+and it was time they should have a taste of their own bounty.
+
+It was stiffly debated among them whether the Fasts should be
+admitted. Some said the appearance of such lean, starved guests, with
+their mortified faces, would pervert the ends of the meeting. But the
+objection was overruled by Christmas Day, who had a design upon Ash
+Wednesday (as you shall hear), and a mighty desire to see how the old
+Domine would behave himself in his cups. Only the Vigils were
+requested to come with their lanterns to light the gentlefolk home at
+night.
+
+All the Days came. Covers were provided for three hundred and
+sixty-five guests at the principal table; with an occasional knife and
+fork at the sideboard for the Twenty-ninth of February.
+
+Cards of invitation had been issued. The carriers were the Hours;
+twelve little, merry, whirligig foot-pages that went all round and
+found out the person invited, with the exception of Easter Day, Shrove
+Tuesday, and a few such movables, who had lately shifted their
+quarters.
+
+Well, they all met at last, foul Days, fine Days, all sorts of Days,
+and a rare din they made of it. There was nothing but "Hail, fellow
+Day! well met!" only Lady Day seemed a little scornful. Yet some said
+Twelfth Day cut her out, for she came all royal and glittering and
+Epiphanous. The rest came in green, some in white, but old Lent and
+his family were not yet out of mourning. Rainy Days came in dripping,
+and Sunshiny Days laughing. Wedding Day was there in marriage finery.
+Pay Day came late, and Doomsday sent word he might be expected.
+
+April Fool took upon himself to marshal the guests, and May Day, with
+that sweetness peculiar to her, proposed the health of the host. This
+being done, the lordly New Year, from the upper end of the table,
+returned thanks. Ash Wednesday, being now called upon for a song,
+struck up a carol, which Christmas Day had taught him. Shrovetide,
+Lord Mayor's Day, and April Fool next joined in a glee, in which all
+the Days, chiming in, made a merry burden.
+
+All this while Valentine's Day kept courting pretty May, who sat next
+him, slipping amorous billet-doux under the table till the Dog Days
+began to be jealous and to bark and rage exceedingly.
+
+At last the Days called for their cloaks and great-coats, and took
+their leave. Shortest Day went off in a deep black fog that wrapped
+the little gentleman all round. Two Vigils--so watchmen are called in
+Heaven--saw Christmas Day safe home; they had been used to the
+business before. Another Vigil--a stout, sturdy patrol, called the Eve
+of St. Christopher--seeing Ash Wednesday in a condition little better
+than he should be, e'en whipt him over his shoulders, pick-a-pack
+fashion, and he went floating home, singing:
+
+ "On the bat's back do I fly,"
+
+and a number of old snatches besides. Longest Day set off westward in
+beautiful crimson and gold; the rest, some in one fashion, some in
+another; but Valentine and pretty May took their departure together in
+one of the prettiest silvery twilights a Lover's Day could wish to set
+in.
+
+
+
+
+RING OUT, WILD BELLS
+
+
+ Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
+ The flying cloud, the frosty light:
+ The year is dying in the night;
+ Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
+
+ Ring out the old, ring in the new,
+ Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
+ The year is going, let him go;
+ Ring out the false, ring in the true.
+
+ Alfred Tennyson.
+
+
+
+
+MIDWINTER
+
+
+
+
+THE BELLS
+
+
+ Hear the sledges with the bells--
+ Silver bells!
+ What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
+ How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
+ In the icy air of night!
+ While the stars, that oversprinkle
+ All the heavens, seem to twinkle
+ With a crystalline delight;
+ Keeping time, time, time,
+ In a sort of Runic rhyme,
+ To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
+ From the bells, bells, bells--
+ Bells, bells, bells--
+ From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
+
+ Edgar Allen Poe.
+
+
+
+
+A JANUARY THAW
+
+Dallas Lore Sharp
+
+
+It was the twenty-first of January--the dead of winter! The stubborn
+cold had had the out of doors under lock and key since Thanksgiving
+Day. We were having a hard winter, and the novelty of the thing was
+beginning to wear off--to us grown-ups anyhow, and to the birds and
+wild things which for weeks had found scant picking over the ice and
+snow. But I was snug enough in my upstairs study, when suddenly the
+door opened and four bebundled boys stood before me, with an axe, a
+long-handled shovel, a basket, and, evidently, a big secret.
+
+"Come on, father," they whispered (as if she hadn't heard them
+clomping with their kit through the house!), "it's mother's birthday
+to-morrow, and we're going after the flowers."
+
+"Going to chop them down with the axe or dig them up with the
+shovel?" I asked. "Going to give her a nice bunch of frost-flowers?
+Better get the ice-saw then, for we'll need a big block of ice to
+stick their stems in."
+
+"Hurry," they answered, dropping my hip-boots on the floor. "Here are
+your scuffs."
+
+I hurried, and soon the five of us, in single file were out on the
+meadow, the dry snow squeaking under our feet, while the little winds,
+capering spitefully about us, blew the snow-dust into our faces or
+catching up the thin drifts sent them whirling like waltzing wraiths
+of dancers over the meadow's glittering floor.
+
+I was beginning to warm up a little, but it was a numb, stiff world
+about us, and bleak and stark, a world all black and white, for there
+was not even blue overhead. The white underfoot ran off to meet the
+black of the woods, and the woods in turn stood dark against a sky so
+heavy with snow that it seemed to shut us into some vast snow cave. A
+crow flapping over drew a black pencil line across the picture--the
+one sign of life besides ourselves that we could see. Only small boys
+are likely to leave their firesides on such a day--only small boys,
+and those men who can't grow up. Yet never before, perhaps, had even
+they gone out on such a tramp with an axe, a shovel, and a basket, to
+pick flowers!
+
+Suddenly one of the boys dashed off, crying: "Let's go see if the
+muskrats have gone to bed yet!" and, trailing after him, we made for a
+little mound that stood about three feet high out in the meadow, more
+like a big ant hill or a small, snow-piled haycock, than a lodge of
+any sort. Only a practiced eye could have seen it, and only a lover of
+bleak days would have known what might be alive in there.
+
+We crept up softly and surrounded the lodge; then with the axe we
+struck the frozen, flinty roof several ringing blows. Instantly
+one-two-three muffled, splashy "plunks" were heard as three little
+muskrats, frightened out of their naps and half out of their wits,
+plunged into the open water of their doorways from off their damp, but
+cosy couch.
+
+It was a mean thing to do--but not very mean as wild animal life goes.
+And it did warm me up so, in spite of the chilly plunge the little
+sleepers took! Chilly to them? Not at all and that is why it warmed
+me. To hear the splash of water down under the two feet of ice and
+snow that sealed the meadow like a sheet of steel! To hear the sounds
+of stirring life, and to picture that snug, steaming bed on the top of
+a tough old tussock, with its open water-doors leading into freedom
+and plenty below! "Why, it won't be long before the arbutus is in
+bloom," I began to think. I looked at the axe and the shovel and said
+to myself, "Well, the boys may know what they are doing after all,
+though three muskrats do not make a spring."
+
+We had cut back to our path, but had not gone ten paces along it
+before another boy was off to the left in the direction of a piece of
+maple swamp.
+
+"He's going to see if 'Hairy' is in his hole," they informed me, and
+we all took after him. The "hole" was almost twenty-five feet up in a
+dead oak stub that had blown off and lodged against a live tree. The
+meadow had been bleak and wind-swept, but the swamp was naked and
+dead, filled with ice and touched with a most forbidding emptiness
+and stillness. I was getting cold again, when the boy ahead tapped
+lightly on the old stub, and at the empty hole appeared a head--a
+fierce black and white head, a sharp, long beak, a flashing eye--as
+"Hairy" came forth to fight for his castle. He was too wise a fighter
+to tackle all of us, however, so, slipping out, he spread his wings
+and galloped off with a loud, wild call that set all the swamp to
+ringing.
+
+It was a thrilling, defiant challenge that set my blood to leaping
+again. Black and white, he was a part of the picture, but there was a
+scarlet band at the nape of his neck that, like his call, had fire in
+it and the warmth of life.
+
+As his woodpecker shout went booming through the hollow halls of the
+swamp, it woke a blue jay who squalled back from a clump of pines,
+then wavering out into the open on curious wings--flashing ice-blue
+and snow-white wings--he dived into the covert of pines again; and
+faint, as if from beyond the swamp, the cheep of chickadees! Here a
+little troop of them came to peep into the racket, curious but not
+excited, discussing the disturbance of the solemn swamp in that
+desultory, sewing-bee fashion of theirs, as if nipping off threads and
+squinting through needle-eyes between their running comment.
+
+They, too, were grey and black, grey as the swamp beeches, black as
+the spotted bark of the birches. And how tiny! But----
+
+ "Here was this atom in full breath
+ Hurling defiance at vast death--
+ This scrap of valour just for play
+ Fronts the north wind in waistcoat grey."
+
+And this, also, is what Emerson says he sings,
+
+ "Good day, good sir!
+ Fine afternoon, old passenger!
+ Happy to meet you in these places
+ Where January brings few faces."
+
+And as I brought to mind the poet's lines, I forgot to shiver, and
+quite warmed up again to the idea of flowers, especially as one of the
+boys just then brought up a spray of green holly with a burning red
+berry on it!
+
+We were tacking again to get back on our course, and had got into the
+edge of the swamp among the pines when the boy with the shovel began
+to study the ground and the trees with a searching eye, moving forward
+and back as if trying to find the location of something.
+
+"Here it is," he said, and set in digging through the snow at the foot
+of a big pine. I knew what he was after. It was gold thread, and here
+was the only spot, in all the woods about, where we had ever found
+it--a spot not larger than the top of a dining-room table.
+
+Soon we had a fistful of the delicate plants with their evergreen
+leaflets and long, golden thread-like roots, that mixed with the red
+and green of the partridge berry in a finger-bowl makes a cheerful
+little winter bouquet. And here with the gold thread, about the butt
+of the pine, was the partridge berry, too, the dainty vines strung
+with the beads which seemed to burn holes in the snow that had covered
+and banked the tiny fires.
+
+For this is all that the ice and snow had done. The winter had come
+with wind enough to blow out every flame in the maple tops, and with
+snow enough to smother every little fire in the peat bogs of the
+swamp; but peat fires are hard to put out, and here and everywhere the
+winter had only banked the fires of summer. Dig down through the snow
+ashes anywhere and the smouldering fires of life burst into blaze.
+
+But the boy with the axe had gone on ahead. And we were off again
+after him, stopping to get a great armful of black alder branches that
+were literally aflame with red berries.
+
+We were climbing a piny knoll when almost at our feet, jumping us
+nearly out of our skins, and warming the very roots of our hair, was a
+burrrr--burrrr--burrrr--burrrr--four big partridges--as if four big
+snow mines had exploded under us, hurling bunches of brown on graceful
+scaling wings over the dip of the hills!
+
+On we went up over the knoll and down into a low bog where, in the
+summer, we gather high-bush blueberries, the boy with the axe leading
+the way and going straight across the ice toward the middle of the
+bog.
+
+My eye was keen for signs, and soon I saw he was heading for a
+sweet-pepper bush with a broken branch. My eye took in another bush
+off a little to the right with a broken branch. The boy with the axe
+walked up to the broken sweet-pepper bush and drew a line on the ice
+between it and the bush off on the right, pacing along this line till
+he got the middle; then he started at right angles from it and paced
+off a line to a clump of cat-tails sticking up through the ice of the
+flooded bog. Halfway back on this line he stopped, threw off his coat
+and began to chop a hole about two feet square in the ice. Removing
+the block while I looked on, he rolled up his sleeve and reached down
+the length of his arm through the icy water.
+
+"Give me the shovel," he said, "it's down here," and with a few deep,
+dexterous cuts soon brought to the surface a beautiful cluster of
+pitcher plants, the strange, almost uncanny leaves filled with muddy
+water, but every pitcher of them intact, shaped and veined and tinted
+by a master potter's hand.
+
+We wrapped it all carefully in newspapers, and put it in the basket,
+starting back with our bouquet as cheerful and as full of joy in the
+season as we could possibly have been in June.
+
+No, I did not say that we love January as much as we love June.
+January here in New England is a mixture of rheumatism, chillblains,
+frozen water pipes, mittens, overshoes, blocked trains, and automobile
+troubles by the hoodsful, whereas any automobile will run in June. I
+have not room in this essay to tell all that June is; besides, this is
+a story of January.
+
+What I was saying is that we started home all abloom with our pitcher
+plants, and gold thread, and partridge berry, and holly, and black
+alder, all aglow inside with our vigorous tramp, with the grey, grave
+beauty of the landscape, with the stern joy of meeting and beating the
+cold, and with the signs of life--of the cosy muskrats in their lodge
+beneath the ice cap on the meadow; with the hairy woodpecker in his
+deep, warm hole in the heart of the tree; with the red-warm berries in
+our basket; with the chirping, the conquering chickadee accompanying
+us and singing--
+
+ "For well the soul, if stout within,
+ Can arm impregnably the skin;
+ And polar frost my form defied
+ Made of the air that blows outside."
+
+And actually as we came over the bleak meadow one of the boys said he
+thought he heard a song sparrow singing; and I thought the
+pussywillows by the brook had opened a little since we passed them
+coming out; and we all declared the weather had changed, and that
+there were signs of a break-up. But the thermometer stood at fifteen
+above zero when we got home--one degree colder than when we started!
+So we concluded that the January thaw must have come off inside of us;
+and if the colour of the four glowing faces is any sign, that was the
+correct reading of the weather.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW MAN
+
+Hans Christian Andersen
+
+
+"It is so wonderfully cold that my whole body crackles!" said the Snow
+Man. "This is a kind of wind that can blow life into one; and how the
+gleaming one up yonder is staring at me." That was the sun he meant,
+which was just about to set. "It shall not make me wink--I shall
+manage to keep the pieces."
+
+He had two triangular pieces of tile in his head instead of eyes. His
+mouth was made of an old rake, and consequently was furnished with
+teeth.
+
+He had been born amid the joyous shouts of the boys, and welcomed by
+the sound of sledge bells and the slashing of whips.
+
+The sun went down, and the full moon rose, round, large, clear, and
+beautiful in the blue air.
+
+"There it comes again from the other side," said the Snow Man. He
+intended to say the sun is showing himself again.
+
+"Ah! I have cured him of staring. Now let him hang up there and shine,
+that I may see myself. If I only knew how I could manage to move from
+this place, I should like so much to move. If I could, I would slide
+along yonder on the ice, just as I see the boys slide; but I don't
+understand it; I don't know how to run."
+
+"Away! away!" barked the old Yard Dog. He was quite hoarse, and could
+not pronounce the genuine "Bow, wow." He had got the hoarseness from
+the time when he was an indoor dog, and lay by the fire. "The sun will
+teach you to run! I saw that last winter in your predecessor, and
+before that in his predecessor. Away! away! and away they all go."
+
+"I don't understand you, comrade," said the Snow Man.
+
+"That thing up yonder is to teach me to run?" He meant the moon. "Yes,
+it comes creeping from the other side."
+
+"You know nothing at all," retorted the Yard Dog. "But then you've
+only just been patched up. What you see yonder is the moon, and the
+one that went before the sun. It will come again to-morrow, and will
+teach you to run down into the ditch by the wall. We shall soon have a
+change of weather; I can feel that in my left hind leg, for it pricks
+and pains me; the weather is going to change."
+
+"I don't understand him," said the Snow Man; "but I have a feeling
+that he's talking about something disagreeable. The one who stared so
+just now, and whom he called the sun, is not my friend. I can feel
+that."
+
+"Away! Away!" barked the Yard Dog. "They told me I was a pretty little
+fellow: then I used to lie in a chair covered with velvet, up in
+master's house, and sit in the lap of the mistress of all. They used
+to kiss my nose, and wipe my paws with an embroidered handkerchief. I
+was called 'Ami--dear Ami--sweet Ami----.' But afterward I grew too
+big for them, and they gave me away to the housekeeper. So I came to
+live in the basement story. You can look into that from where you are
+standing, and you can see into the room where I was master; for I was
+master at the housekeeper's. It was certainly a smaller place than
+upstairs, but I was more comfortable and was not continually taken
+hold of and pulled about by children as I had been. I received just as
+much good food as ever, and even better. I had my own cushion, and
+there was a stove, the finest thing in the world at this season. I
+went under the stove, and could lie down quite beneath it. Ah! I will
+sometimes dream of that stove. Away! Away!"
+
+"Does a stove look so beautiful?" asked the Snow Man. "Is it at all
+like me?"
+
+"It's just the reverse of you. It's as black as a crow, and has a long
+neck and a brazen drum. It eats firewood, so that the fire spurts out
+of its mouth. One must keep at its side or under it, and there one is
+very comfortable. You can see it through the window from where you
+stand."
+
+And the Snow Man looked and saw a bright, polished thing, with a
+brazen drum, and the fire gleamed from the lower part of it. The Snow
+Man felt quite strangely; an odd emotion came over him; he knew not
+what it meant, and could not account for it, but all people who are
+not men know the feeling.
+
+"And why did you leave her?" asked the Snow Man, for it seemed to him
+that the stove must be of the female sex.
+
+"How could you quit such a comfortable place?"
+
+"I was obliged," replied the Yard Dog. "They turned me out of doors,
+and chained me up here. I had bitten the youngest young master in the
+leg, because he kicked away the bone I was gnawing. 'Bone for bone,' I
+thought. They took that very much amiss, and from that time I have
+been fastened to a chain and have lost my voice. Don't you hear how
+hoarse I am? Away! away! I can't talk any more like other dogs. Away!
+away! That was the end of the affair."
+
+But the Snow Man was no longer listening at him. He was looking in at
+the housekeeper's basement lodging, into the room where the stove
+stood on its four legs, just the same size as the Snow Man himself.
+
+"What a strange crackling within me!" he said. "Shall I ever get in
+there? It is an innocent wish, and our innocent wishes are certain to
+be fulfilled. I must go in there and lean against her, even if I have
+to break through the window."
+
+"You'll never get in there," said the Yard Dog; "and if you approach
+the stove you'll melt away--away!"
+
+"I am as good as gone," replied the Snow Man. "I think I am breaking
+up."
+
+The whole day the Snow Man stood looking in through the window. In the
+twilight hour the room became still more inviting; from the stove came
+a mild gleam, not like the sun nor like the moon; it was only as the
+stove can glow when he has something to eat. When the room door opened
+the flame started out of his mouth; this was a habit the stove had.
+The flame fell distinctly on the white face of the Snow Man, and
+gleamed red upon his bosom.
+
+"I can endure it no longer," said he. "How beautiful it looks when it
+stretches out its tongue!"
+
+The night was long; but it did not appear long to the Snow Man, who
+stood there lost in his own charming reflections, crackling with the
+cold.
+
+In the morning the window-panes of the basement lodging were covered
+with ice. They bore the most beautiful ice flowers that any snow man
+could desire; but they concealed the stove, which he pictured to
+himself as a lovely female. It crackled and whistled in him and around
+him; it was just the kind of frosty weather a snow man must thoroughly
+enjoy.
+
+But he did not enjoy it; and, indeed, how could he enjoy himself when
+he was stove-sick?
+
+"That's a terrible disease for a Snow Man," said the Yard Dog. "I have
+suffered from it myself, but I got over it. Away! away!" he barked;
+and he added, "the weather is going to change."
+
+And the weather did change; it began to thaw. The warmth increased,
+and the Snow Man decreased. He made no complaint--and that's an
+infallible sign.
+
+One morning he broke down. And, behold, where he had stood, something
+like a broomstick remained sticking up out of the ground. It was the
+pole around which the boys had built him up.
+
+"Ah! now I can understand why he had such an intense longing," said
+the Yard Dog. "Why, there's a shovel for cleaning out the stove-rake
+in his body, and that's what moved within him. Now he has got over
+that, too. Away, away!"
+
+And soon they had got over the winter.
+
+"Away! away!" barked the hoarse Yard Dog. And nobody thought any more
+of the Snow Man.
+
+
+
+
+THE HAPPY PRINCE
+
+Oscar Wilde
+
+
+High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy
+Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes
+he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his
+sword-hilt. He was very much admired, indeed.
+
+"He is as beautiful as a weathercock," remarked one of the Town
+Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic taste.
+"Only not quite so useful," he added, fearing lest people should think
+him unpractical, which he really was not.
+
+"Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?" asked a sensible mother of
+her little boy who was crying for the moon.
+
+"The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything."
+
+"I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,"
+muttered a disappointed man, as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
+
+"He looks just like an angel," said the charity children, as they came
+out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean
+white pinafores.
+
+"How do you know?" said Mathematical Master. "You have never seen
+one."
+
+"Ah! but we have in our dreams," answered the children; and the
+Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not
+approve of children dreaming.
+
+One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had
+gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he
+was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the
+spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and
+had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk
+to her.
+
+"Shall I love you?" said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point
+at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round
+her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples.
+This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
+
+"It is a ridiculous attachment," twittered the other Swallows, "she
+has no money, and far too many relations"; and, indeed, the river was
+quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away.
+
+After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his
+lady-love. "She has no conversation," he said, "and I am afraid that
+she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind." And,
+certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful
+curtsies.
+
+"I admit that she is domestic," he continued, "but I love traveling,
+and my wife, consequently, should love traveling, also."
+
+"Will you come away with me?" he said finally to her; but the Reed
+shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
+
+"You have been trifling with me," he cried. "I am off to the Pyramids.
+Good-bye!" and he flew away.
+
+All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city.
+"Where shall I put up?" he said; "I hope the town has made
+preparations."
+
+Then he saw the statue on the tall column. "I will put up there," he
+cried; "it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air." So he
+alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
+
+"I have a golden bedroom," he said softly to himself, as he looked
+round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his
+head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. "What a curious
+thing!" he cried, "there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars
+are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the
+north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain,
+but that was merely her selfishness."
+
+Then another drop fell.
+
+"What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?" he said.
+"I must look for a good chimney-pot," and he determined to fly away.
+
+But before he had opened his wings a third drop fell, and he looked
+up, and saw--Ah! what did he see?
+
+The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were
+running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the
+moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
+
+"Who are you?" he said.
+
+"I am the Happy Prince."
+
+"Why are you weeping then?" asked the Swallow; "you have quite
+drenched me."
+
+"When I was alive and had a human heart," answered the statue, "I did
+not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci,
+where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my
+companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the
+Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared
+to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My
+courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy, indeed, I was, if
+pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am
+dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness
+and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead,
+yet I cannot choose but weep."
+
+"What, is he not solid gold?" said the Swallow to himself. He was too
+polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
+
+"Far away," continued the statue in a low, musical voice, "far away in
+a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and
+through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and
+worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for
+she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin
+gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of-honour to wear at the
+next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is
+lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has
+nothing to give him but water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow,
+little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt?
+My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move."
+
+"I am waited for in Egypt," said the Swallow. "My friends are flying
+up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon
+they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there
+himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen and
+embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade,
+and his hands are like withered leaves."
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not
+stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty
+and the mother so sad."
+
+"I don't think I like boys," answered the Swallow. "Last summer, when
+I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller's
+sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of
+course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and, besides, I come of
+a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of
+disrespect."
+
+But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry.
+"It is very cold here," he said; "but I will stay with you for one
+night, and be your messenger."
+
+"Thank you, little Swallow," said the Prince.
+
+So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and
+flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
+
+He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were
+sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A
+beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. "How wonderful
+the stars are," he said to her, "and how wonderful is the power of
+love!" "I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball," she
+answered. "I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but
+the seamstresses are so lazy."
+
+He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of
+the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining
+with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he
+came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly
+on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he
+hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's
+thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead
+with his wings. "How cool I feel," said the boy, "I must be getting
+better," and he sank into a delicious slumber.
+
+Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he
+had done. "It is curious," he remarked, "but I feel quite warm now,
+although it is so cold."
+
+"That is because you have done a good action," said the Prince. And
+the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking
+always made him sleepy.
+
+When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. "What a
+remarkable phenomenon," said the professor of Ornithology as he was
+passing over the bridge. "A swallow in winter!" And he wrote a long
+letter about it to the local newspaper. Everyone quoted it; it was
+full of so many words that they could not understand.
+
+"To-night I go to Egypt," said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits
+at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long
+time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went, Sparrows
+chirruped, and said to each other, "What a distinguished stranger!"
+so he enjoyed himself very much.
+
+When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. "Have you any
+commissions for Egypt?" he cried. "I am just starting."
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not
+stay with me one night longer?"
+
+"I am waited for in Egypt," answered the Swallow. "To-morrow my
+friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches
+there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God
+Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star
+shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the
+yellow lions came down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes
+like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the
+cataract."
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "far away across
+the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk
+covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of
+withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as
+pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish
+a play for the Director of the Theater, but he is too cold to write
+any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him
+faint."
+
+"I will wait with you one night longer," said the Swallow, who really
+had a good heart. "Shall I take him another ruby?"
+
+"Alas! I have no ruby now," said the Prince; "my eyes are all that I
+have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of
+India a thousand years ago.
+
+"Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the
+jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play."
+
+"Dear Prince," said the Swallow, "I cannot do that."
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command
+you."
+
+So the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to the
+student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in
+the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young
+man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter
+of the bird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful
+sapphire lying on the withered violets.
+
+"I am beginning to be appreciated," he cried; "this is from some great
+admirer. Now I can finish my play," and he looked quite happy.
+
+The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast
+of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of
+the hold with ropes. "Heave a-hoy!" they shouted, as each chest came
+up: "I am going to Egypt!" cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and
+when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
+
+"I am come to bid you good-bye," he cried.
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not
+stay with me one night longer?"
+
+"It is winter," answered the Swallow, "and the chill snow will soon be
+here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the
+crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions
+are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white
+doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I
+must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will
+bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given
+away. The ruby shall be redder than a rose, and the sapphire shall be
+as blue as the great sea."
+
+"In the square below," said the Happy Prince, "there stands a little
+match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are
+all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some
+money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her
+little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and
+her father will not beat her."
+
+"I will stay with you one night longer," said the Swallow, "but I
+cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then."
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command
+you."
+
+So he plucked out the Prince's other eye and darted down with it. He
+swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of
+her hand. "What a lovely bit of glass," cried the little girl; and
+she ran home, laughing.
+
+Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. "You are blind now," he
+said, "so I will stay with you always."
+
+"No, little Swallow," said the poor Prince, "you must go away to
+Egypt."
+
+"I will stay with you always," said the Swallow, and he slept at the
+Prince's feet.
+
+All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories
+of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises,
+who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile and catch gold-fish in
+their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and
+lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk
+slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their
+hands; of the King of the Mountains of the moon, who is as black as
+ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great, green snake that
+sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey
+cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large, flat
+leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
+
+"Dear little Swallow," said the Prince, "you tell me of marvelous
+things, but more marvelous than anything is the suffering of men and
+women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city,
+little Swallow, and tell me what you see there."
+
+So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry
+in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the
+gates. He flew into the dark lanes, and saw the white faces of
+starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under
+the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another's
+arms to try and keep themselves warm.
+
+"How hungry we are!" they said.
+
+"You must not lie here," shouted the watchman, and they wandered out
+into the rain.
+
+Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
+
+"I am covered with fine gold!" said the Prince, "you must take it off,
+leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that
+gold can make them happy."
+
+Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the
+Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the gold
+he brought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they
+laughed and played games in the street. "We have bread now!" they
+cried.
+
+Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets
+looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and
+glistening; long icicles, like crystal daggers, hung down from the
+eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys
+wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.
+
+The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave
+the Prince; he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the
+baker's door when the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself
+warm by flapping his wings.
+
+But at last he knew he was going to die. He had just strength to fly
+up to the Prince's shoulder once more.
+
+"Good-bye, dear Prince!" he murmured. "Will you let me kiss your
+hand?"
+
+"I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow," said
+the Prince. "You have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on
+the lips; for I love you."
+
+"It is not to Egypt that I am going," said the Swallow. "I am going to
+the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?"
+
+And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his
+feet. At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue as if
+something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped
+right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
+
+Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in
+company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked
+up at the statue. "Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!" he
+said.
+
+"How shabby, indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed
+with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.
+
+"The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is
+golden no longer," said the Mayor; "in fact, he is little better than
+a beggar!"
+
+"Little better than a beggar," said the Town Councillors. "And here is
+actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the Mayor. "We must
+really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die
+here." And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
+
+So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. "As he is no
+longer beautiful, he is no longer useful," said the Art Professor at
+the University.
+
+Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting
+of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. "We
+must have another statue, of course," he said, "and it shall be a
+statue of myself."
+
+"Of myself," said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarreled.
+
+"What a strange thing!" said the overseer of the workmen at the
+foundry. "This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must
+throw it away." So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead
+swallow was also lying.
+
+"Bring me the two most precious things in the city," said God to one
+of His angels; and the angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead
+bird.
+
+"You have rightly chosen," said God, "for in my garden of Paradise
+this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the
+Happy Prince shall praise me."
+
+
+
+
+THE LEGEND OF KING WENCESLAUS
+
+(A Legend of Mercy)
+
+
+ "Good King Wenceslaus looked out
+ On the Feast of Saint Stephen,
+ When the snow lay round about,
+ Deep and crisp and even."
+
+King Wenceslaus sat in his palace. He had been watching from the
+narrow window of the turret chamber where he was, the sunset as its
+glory hung for a moment in the western clouds, and then died away over
+the blue hills. Calm and cold was the brightness. A freezing haze came
+over the face of the land. The moon brightened towards the southwest
+and the leafless trees in the castle gardens and the quaint turret and
+spires of the castle itself threw clear dark shadows on the unspotted
+snow.
+
+Still the king looked out upon the scene before him. The ground
+sloped down from the castle towards the forest. Here and there on the
+side of the hill a few bushes grey with moss broke the unvaried sheet
+of white. And as the king turned his eye in that direction a poor man
+came up to these bushes and pulled something from them.
+
+"Come hither, page," called the king. One of the servants of the
+palace entered in answer to the king's call. "Come, my good Otto; come
+stand by me. Do you see yonder poor man on the hillside? Step down to
+him and learn who he is and where he dwells and what he is doing.
+Bring me word at once."
+
+Otto went forth on his errand while the good king watched him go down
+the hill. Meanwhile, the frost grew more and more intense and an east
+wind blew from the black mountains. The snow became more crisp and the
+air more clear. In a few moments the messenger was back.
+
+"Well, who is he?"
+
+"Sire," said Otto, "it is Rudolph, the swineherd,--he that lives down
+by the Brunweis. Fire he has none, nor food, and he was gathering a
+few sticks where he might find them, lest, as he says, all his family
+perish with the cold. It is a most bitter night, Sire."
+
+"This should have been better looked to," said the king. "A grievous
+fault it is that it has not been done. But it shall be amended now. Go
+to the ewery, Otto, and fetch some provisions of the best.
+
+ "Bring me flesh and bring me wine,
+ Bring me pine logs hither;
+ Thou and I will see him dine,
+ When we bear them hither."
+
+"Is your Majesty going forth?" asked Otto in surprise.
+
+"Yes, to the Brunweis, and you shall go with me. When you have
+everything ready meet me at the wood-stacks by the little chapel.
+Come, be speedy."
+
+"I pray you, Sire, do not venture out yourself. Let some of the
+men-at-arms go forth. It is a freezing wind and the place is a good
+league hence."
+
+"Nevertheless, I go," said the king. "Go with me, if you will, Otto;
+if not, stay. I can carry the food myself."
+
+"God forbid, Sire, that I should let you go alone. But I pray you be
+persuaded."
+
+"Not in this," said King Wenceslaus. "Meet me then where I said, and
+not a word to any one besides."
+
+The noblemen of the court were in the palace hall, where a mighty fire
+went roaring up the chimney and the shadows played and danced on the
+steep sides of the dark roof. Gayly they laughed and lightly they
+talked. And as they threw fresh logs into the great chimney-place one
+said to another that so bitter a wind had never before been known in
+the land. But in the midst of that freezing night the king went forth.
+
+ "Page and Monarch forth they went,
+ Forth they went together;
+ Through the rude wind's wild lament,
+ And the bitter weather."
+
+The king had put on no extra clothing to shelter himself from the
+nipping air; for he would feel with the poor that he might feel for
+them. On his shoulders he bore a heap of logs for the swineherd's
+fire. He stepped briskly on while Otto followed with the provisions.
+He had imitated his master and had gone out in his common garments. On
+the two trudged together, over the crisp snow, across fields, by lanes
+where the hedge trees were heavy with their white burden, past the
+pool, over the stile where the rime clustered thick by the wood, and
+on out upon the moor where the snow lay yet more unbroken and where
+the wind seemed to nip one's very heart.
+
+Still King Wenceslaus went on and still Otto followed. The king
+thought it but little to go forth into the frost and snow, remembering
+Him who came into the cold night of this world of ours; he disdained
+not, a king, to go to the beggar, for had not the King of King's
+visited slaves? He grudged not, a king, to carry logs on his
+shoulders, for had not the Kings of Kings borne heavier burdens for
+his sake?
+
+But at each step Otto's courage and zeal failed. He tried to hold out
+with a good heart. For very shame he did not wish to do less than his
+master. How could he turn back, while the king held on his way? But
+when they came forth on the white, bleak moor, he cried out with a
+faint heart:
+
+"My liege, I cannot go on. The wind freezes my very blood. Pray you,
+let us return."
+
+"Seems it so much?" asked the king. "Follow me on still. Only tread in
+my footsteps and you will proceed more easily."
+
+The servant knew that his master spoke not at random. He carefully
+looked for the footsteps of the king. He set his own feet in the print
+of his master's.
+
+ "In the master's steps he trod,
+ Where the snow lay dinted;
+ Heat was in the very sod
+ Which the saint had printed."
+
+And so great was the fire of love that kindled in the heart of the
+king that, as the servant trod in his steps, he gained life and heat.
+Otto felt not the wind; he heeded not the frost; for the master's
+footprints glowed as with holy fire and zealously he followed the king
+on his errand of mercy.
+
+
+
+
+MIDWINTER
+
+
+ The speckled sky is dim with snow,
+ The light flakes falter and fall slow;
+ Athwart the hill-top, rapt and pale,
+ Silently drops a silvery veil;
+ And all the valley is shut in
+ By flickering curtains grey and thin.
+
+ But cheerily the chickadee
+ Singeth to me on fence and tree;
+ The snow sails round him as he sings,
+ White as the down of angels' wings.
+
+ I watch the snowflakes as they fall
+ On bank and briar and broken wall;
+ Over the orchard, waste and brown,
+ All noiselessly they settle down,
+ Tipping the apple-boughs, and each
+ Light quivering twig of plum and peach.
+
+ On turf and curb and bower-roof
+ The snowstorm spreads its ivory woof;
+ It paves with pearl the garden walk;
+ And lovingly round tattered stalk
+ And shivering stem, its magic weaves
+ A mantle fair as lily-leaves.
+
+ The hooded beehive small and low,
+ Stands like a maiden in the snow;
+ And the old door-slab is half hid
+ Under an alabaster lid.
+
+ All day it snows; the sheeted post
+ Gleams in the dimness like a ghost;
+ All day the blasted oak has stood
+ A muffled wizard of the wood;
+ Garland and airy cap adorn
+ The sumach and the wayside thorn,
+ And clustering spangles lodge and shine
+ In the dark tresses of the pine.
+
+ The ragged bramble dwarfed and old,
+ Shrinks like a beggar in the cold;
+ In surplice white the cedar stands,
+ And blesses him with priestly hands.
+
+ Still cheerily the chickadee
+ Singeth to me on fence and tree:
+ But in my inmost ear is heard
+ The music of a holier bird;
+ And heavenly thoughts as soft and white
+ As snowflakes on my soul alight,
+ Clothing with love my lonely heart,
+ Healing with peace each bruiséd part,
+ Till all my being seems to be
+ Transfigured by their purity.
+
+ John Townsend Trowbridge.
+
+
+
+
+WHEN WINTER AND SPRING MET
+
+
+
+
+OLD WINTER
+
+
+ Old Winter sad, in snow yclad
+ Is making a doleful din;
+ But let him howl till he crack his jowl,
+ We will not let him in.
+
+ Ay, let him lift from the billowy drift
+ His hoary, haggard form,
+ And scowling stand, with his wrinkled hand
+ Outstretching to the storm.
+
+ And let his weird and sleety beard
+ Stream loose upon the blast,
+ And, rustling, chime to the tinkling rime
+ From his bald head falling fast.
+
+ Let his baleful breath shed blight and death
+ On herb and flower and tree;
+ And brooks and ponds in crystal bonds
+ Bind fast, but what care we?
+
+ Thomas Noel.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOWBALL THAT DIDN'T MELT
+
+Jay T. Stocking
+
+
+ "Biff!
+ Flick!
+ Swat!
+ Smack!
+ Biff, biff!
+ Flick, flick!
+ Swat, swat!
+ Smack, smack!"
+
+It was a fine day in midwinter. The sun was just warm and bright
+enough to make the snow pack easily. The boys in the neighbourhood
+were having the liveliest kind of a snowball fight. So that is why
+there was this--
+
+ "Biff!
+ Flick!
+ Swat!
+ Smack!"
+
+And this--
+
+ "Biff, biff!
+ Flick, flick!
+ Swat, swat!
+ Smack, smack!"
+
+Everything ends some time. So this snowball fight did. One side or the
+other won,--I have forgotten which. The boys at the little
+brown-shingled house, where the fight took place, became very busy
+making balls for the next day's battle. You could hear the "pat--pat,
+pat--pat," as they rounded and packed the snowballs in their cold, red
+hands.
+
+When they became quite satisfied that they had enough on hand for a
+lively battle they piled the balls up in a neat pyramid just under the
+edge of the veranda and went off to look for something new to do.
+
+Then the snowballs fell to talking,--_if it is true_ that snowballs
+talk.
+
+"I wonder what they are going to do with us," said the top one. "I
+know what I'd _like_ to do. I'd like to hit the nose of that rough,
+freckle-faced boy who hit the nose of the boy who made me."
+
+"I know what I'd like," said the second. "I'd like to go right through
+the window of Old Grampy's house. Wouldn't he sputter!"
+
+"Oh! What's the fun in teasing a poor old man?" said another. "I'll
+tell you what _I'd_ like. _I'd_ like to hit the minister right in the
+middle of the back and see what he would do."
+
+"Hit the minister in the back!" said a lively-looking chap down in the
+middle of the pile. "Be a sport! I'd like to knock the policeman's hat
+off and see him chase the boy that threw me. That would be fun."
+
+It was, you see, a very bold and mischievous lot of balls, if one may
+judge from their big talk. And so it was probably well for the peace
+of the neighbourhood that the evening had scarcely fallen when,
+through a sudden change in the weather, snow, too, began to fall. All
+night long the snow fell, thicker and faster, thicker and faster. The
+wind rose and piled it in stacks. The house was banked to the
+windows, the veranda was heaped up high. The snowballs were buried
+deep,--so deep that the boys forgot them. It was spring before the
+thick covering of snow was melted enough so that they could see the
+light of day.
+
+It was a long time after this, when there came a day which meant much
+for at least one of that heap of snowballs.
+
+The sun was bright and hot; the grass was beginning to show green. The
+snow had all gone except in a few places on the cold side of the
+houses and under veranda edges. The snowballs were still piled neatly
+in the pyramid but they looked as if they might tumble down almost any
+minute. Although it was cool in their shady spot, every one of them
+was perspiring and several of them looked thin and pale. I fancy they
+had felt the heat, for all their lives they had been accustomed to a
+cooler climate.
+
+As they were busy mopping their brows and sighing for cooler weather
+they heard a sound, between a sigh and a faint moan. They heard it
+again and again. It was above their heads, out on the lawn, and not
+far away. It seemed to be in or around a shrub or bush, with a tall
+slender stem and a branching top.
+
+"What's that?" asked several of the balls at once.
+
+They stopped talking, and sighing, and listened. And as they did so,
+they could hear words very distinctly, though they were not nearly so
+loud as a whisper.
+
+ "Snowball, Snowball, come up here!
+ My head is hot, my throat feels queer:
+ I'm going to faint, I surely fear.
+ Won't some cool snowball come up here?"
+
+"Who are you?" asked Snowball Number One, who sat at the tiptop of the
+pile. "Where are you and what is your name?"
+
+ "I'm Life-of-the-Bush,
+ In the bush I dwell;
+ I know not my name,
+ And so I can't tell."
+
+"I can't see you," said Number One, as he looked intently up at the
+branches.
+
+ "You can't?" said the Bush,
+ "Then you must be blind.
+ I'm right up here,--
+ But never mind."
+
+The voice trailed off weakly; then they heard it again:
+
+ "I'm going to faint, I really fear.
+ Won't some kind snowball come up here?"
+
+"But you are up so high. How can one get there? We have neither a
+ladder nor wings and we do not know how to climb." Number One did most
+of the talking; he was nearest the bush.
+
+"I'll tell you how," said Life-of-the-Bush, stopping his rhyme and
+talking plainly and simply and sensibly. "Just roll down the slope on
+the lawn to the foot of this bush. Make yourself as small as small can
+be, creep down into the ground, and take an elevator, which is always
+running, and you will come directly up to me." The talking ceased, and
+the snowballs began to look at each other rather uneasily.
+
+"I can't go," said Number Two, who was in the second row from the
+top. "I always tan terribly in the sun. It's a long way down to the
+foot of the bush, and I should be brown as a berry before I got half
+way."
+
+"I can't go, either," said Number Three, by his side. "I don't tan,
+but I freckle, and freckles look dreadful on my fair complexion."
+
+"I'm sorry I can't go," said Number Four, from his place in the corner
+of the third row. "But I feel the heat terribly. My clothes are all
+sticking to me now."
+
+"It's simply out of the question for me," said a big fat snowball down
+near the ground. "I know I'd melt before I got there. There isn't much
+left of me now."
+
+Number One was one of the fairest snowballs of the bunch, but he was
+not afraid of freckles or tan. He was also one of the smallest of the
+lot. He looked down to the foot of the bush. It seemed a long way. The
+sun was certainly burning hot. He was not at all sure that he would
+live long enough in that sun to reach the bush. But some one should
+keep Life-of-the-Bush from fainting and he would try.
+
+He turned a quick somersault off the pile down to the ground.
+
+At just that moment something disturbed the whole pile and every ball
+in it tumbled down and out into the sun.
+
+As soon as Number One touched the ground, he began to roll over, and
+over, and over, as fast as ever he could. It didn't take him more than
+a minute to reach the foot of the bush. He remembered what
+Life-of-the-Bush had said, made himself just as small as small could
+be, crept down into the ground close to the stem and took the
+elevator, which seemed to be running all the time.
+
+It took quite a while to go up, but finally the elevator paused just
+long enough for him to get out. He found himself in a cool, rambling
+house, that seemed to be almost all long, narrow halls. They ran this
+way and that way and every--which--way. At one end of each hall, where
+the buds were opening, there were windows with green shades.
+Everything was very clean and sweet. Right in the middle of the house
+he found Life-of-the-Bush. He gave her a drink of water, which he had
+carried in his water-proof pocket and not only kept her from fainting
+but made her as lively and well and happy as ever.
+
+Life-of-the-Bush thanked the snowball a thousand times and gave him
+the freedom of her beautiful house.
+
+"Now that you are here," she said, "perhaps you will stay a while and
+help me build my house a little bigger. I must build leaves, and buds
+and branches and bark. I need your help."
+
+The snowball stayed and helped. He found it very exciting work. He
+worked all day and all night, ran here and there, and never stopped
+for meals. He packed buds and unfolded them; he pushed out the leaves
+and built out the ends of branches; he made bark, pressed it till it
+was hard and coloured it grey.
+
+Day after day he worked at his tasks as if they gave him the greatest
+joy in the world. But now and then Life-of-the-Bush saw him gazing out
+of the window, as if he were a bit homesick, to get out of doors
+again.
+
+"Stay with me a little longer," she said, "to help me build my
+blossoms, and then I will send you out of doors on a beautiful errand
+to stay as long as your heart desires."
+
+So Snowball stayed and helped Life-of-the-Bush build her blossoms.
+Basket after basket of white stuff, as white as snowflakes but ever so
+much smaller, he carried out to the ends of the branches. Jar after
+jar of perfume he carried, too, until the blossoms were quite
+complete.
+
+Then one evening--it was the last of May, or early
+June--Life-of-the-Bush called him.
+
+"To-morrow," she said, "there is to be a great Garden Festival. A
+prize is to be given for the most original and beautiful blossom. All
+the flowers of the season will be here in the garden. You have been a
+good friend and a faithful helper. For reward, you may go to the
+Festival and stay as long as your heart desires."
+
+"But how shall I go?" queried the snowball.
+
+"Right out through the end of one of my branches," said
+Life-of-the-Bush.
+
+"But I shall fall off," said the snowball.
+
+"I'll tie you on with a stout string, so that not even the wind can
+blow you off."
+
+"But it's hot outside. I shall melt."
+
+"O, no. I've changed you so the hottest sun cannot melt you."
+
+"But how can I get out through the end of the branch?" asked the
+snowball, who could not get it through his head that he could really
+get out to the end of a branch and stay there all day and not fall off
+or melt.
+
+"Make yourself very small, just as small as when you came up to me and
+you can go out as easily as you run along these halls," said
+Life-of-the-Bush.
+
+The snowball became quite excited. The Festival was to begin very
+early in the morning. Besides he wanted to see, if he could, what had
+become of the other snowballs. So he decided that he would go out on
+the branch that night, while it was dark, and be there for the whole
+day's fun.
+
+So he made himself very small, ran along the hall, crept out through
+a tiny green door and found himself tied securely to a swaying branch.
+The air was cool and sweet. He didn't melt, as he half-feared he
+might, and he didn't fall off. He looked around. Yes, this was the
+very bush he had seen before, but it was greener now. Morning came and
+the great Festival. The garden was full of flowers and folks.
+
+ There were lilacs and lilies of shades manifold
+ There were daisies, and daffodils, yellow as gold.
+ There were pansies, and peonies, red, white and pink,
+ And every such flower of which you can think.
+
+ You ought to have heard the "Ah's!" and the "Oh's!"
+ Of all the fine people in all their fine clothes.
+ You ought to have seen that wonderful sight,
+ For no rhyme of mine can describe it half right.
+
+People went from bush to bush and from flower to flower. They could
+not for the life of them tell which blossom they thought most
+beautiful and original.
+
+The judges wandered about uncertainly with the ribbons in their
+pockets not knowing to what plant or bush to tie them.
+
+The snowball grew very much interested, not to say excited, to see
+what blossom would finally win the prize.
+
+He noticed that groups of people continually stopped before the bush
+on which he hung. Apparently they admired it. He soon discovered that
+they were looking at him and was quite embarrassed.
+
+"Look!" he kept hearing them say. "See this snowball,--and it doesn't
+melt! Why, it's growing on the bush; it's a blossom!" That was the
+first that _he_ knew that Life-of-the-Bush had changed him from a
+snowball into a flower snowball. Of course he became very happy and
+twice as excited.
+
+Indeed, he could hardly breathe from excitement, when the judges came
+over, in a group, to where he grew. They looked at him and at the
+bush. Apparently they had never seen blossoms of this kind before.
+
+"I never saw such a big, round, white blossom before," he heard one
+of them say, as he drew a blue ribbon from his pocket and tied it to
+the stem on which he hung. He knew and soon, of course, everybody knew
+that the "Snowball Bush" had won the prize. His heart beat so fast
+that he thought he was growing red in the face. _Perhaps he was
+melting!_ But he wasn't, for he heard a girl say just then, as she
+passed, "How white and cool it looks!"
+
+Snowball Number One had often wondered what had happened to his
+friends, the other snowballs. One reason why he had been anxious to
+get out of the bush was to find out, if he could, what had become of
+them all. But the doings of the day had driven all thought of them out
+of his busy head.
+
+Now, as the people began to leave the garden, and excitement grew
+less, he remembered and looked about him. Here was the yard in which
+the boys made him. There was the very place under the edge of the
+veranda where he had spent the winter and where they had all stood
+that spring morning when Life-of-the-Bush called to them. There was
+the place, almost under him, where he knew they had all tumbled down
+the moment he left them. But not a trace of a snowball could be seen.
+
+Of course not! They had all disappeared long ago, the very day,
+indeed, in which they tumbled down. Before noon the hot sun had melted
+them, every one, and carried them away, tan and freckles and all, and
+no one ever heard of them again.
+
+Number One, who ran right out into the sun, was the only snowball that
+didn't melt.
+
+
+
+
+GAU-WI-DI-NE AND GO-HAY, WINTER AND SPRING
+
+(Iroquois Legend)
+
+
+The snow mountain lifted its head close to the sky; the clouds wrapped
+around it their floating drifts which held the winter's hail and
+snowfalls, and with scorn it defied the sunlight which crept over its
+height, slow and shivering on its way to the valleys.
+
+Close at the foot of the mountain, an old man had built him a lodge
+"for a time," said he, as he packed it around with great blocks of
+ice. Within he stored piles of wood and corn and dried meat and fish.
+No person, animal, nor bird could enter this lodge, only North Wind,
+the only friend the old man had. Whenever strong and lusty North Wind
+passed the lodge he would scream "ugh-e-e-e, ugh-e-e-e," as with a
+blast of his blusterings he passed over the earth.
+
+But North Wind came only seldom to the lodge. He was too busy
+searching the corners of the earth and driving the snow and the hail,
+but when he had wandered far and was in need of advice, he would visit
+the lodge to smoke and counsel with the old man about the next
+snowfall, before journeying to his home in the north sky; and they
+would sit by the fire which blazed and glowed yet could not warm them.
+
+The old man's bushy whiskers were heavy with the icicles which clung
+to them, and when the blazing fire flared its lights, illuminating
+them with the warm hues of the summer sunset, he would rave as he
+struck them down, and glare with rage as they fell snapping and
+crackling at his feet.
+
+One night, as together they sat smoking and dozing before the fire, a
+strange feeling of fear came over them, the air seemed growing warmer
+and the ice began to melt. Said North Wind:
+
+"I wonder what warm thing is coming, the snow seems vanishing and
+sinking lower in the earth." But the old man cared not, and was
+silent. He knew his lodge was strong, and he chuckled with scorn as he
+bade North Wind abandon his fears and depart for his home. But North
+Wind went drifting the fast-falling snow higher on the mountain until
+it groaned under its heavy burden, and scolding and blasting, his
+voice gradually died away. Still the old man remained silent and moved
+not, but, lost in thought, sat looking into the fire, when there came
+a loud knock at his door. "Some foolish breath of North Wind is
+wandering," thought he, and he heeded it not.
+
+Again came the rapping, but swifter and louder, and a pleading voice
+begged to come in.
+
+Still the old man remained silent, and, drawing nearer to the fire,
+quieted himself for sleep; but the rapping continued, louder, fiercer,
+and increased his anger. "Who dares approach the door of my lodge?" he
+shrieked. "You are not North Wind, who alone can enter here. Begone!
+no refuge here for trifling winds; go back to your home in the sky."
+But, as he spoke, the strong bar securing the door fell from its
+fastening, the door swung open and a stalwart young warrior stood
+before him shaking the snow from his shoulders as he noiselessly
+closed the door.
+
+Safe within the lodge, the warrior heeded not the old man's anger, but
+with a cheerful greeting drew close to the fire, extending his hands
+to its ruddy blaze, when a glow as of summer illumined the lodge. But
+the kindly greeting and the glowing light served only to incense the
+old man, and rising in rage, he ordered the warrior to depart.
+
+"Go!" he exclaimed. "I know you not. You have entered my lodge and you
+bring a strange light. Why have you forced my lodge door? You are
+young, and youth has no need of my fire. When I enter my lodge, all
+the earth sleeps. You are strong, with the glow of sunshine on your
+face. Long ago I buried the sunshine beneath the snowdrifts. Go! you
+have no place here.
+
+"Your eyes bear the gleam of the summer stars. North Wind blew out the
+summer star-lights moons ago. Your eyes dazzle my lodge, your breath
+does not smoke in chill vapour, but comes from your lips soft and
+warm; it will melt my lodge. You have no place here.
+
+"Your hair so soft and fine, streaming back like the night shades,
+will weave my lodge into tangles. You have no place here.
+
+"Your shoulders are bare and white as the snowdrifts. You have no furs
+to cover them; depart from my lodge. See, as you sit by my fire, how
+it draws away from you. Depart, I say, from my lodge!"
+
+But the young warrior only smiled, and asked that he might remain to
+fill his pipe; and they sat down by the fire. Then the old man became
+garrulous and began to boast of his great powers.
+
+"I am powerful and strong," said he. "I send North Wind to blow all
+over the earth and its waters stop to listen to his voice as he
+freezes them fast asleep. When I touch the sky the snow hurries down
+and the hunters hide by their lodge fires; the birds fly scared, and
+the animals creep to their caves. When I lay my hand on the land, I
+harden it still as the rocks; nothing can forbid me nor loosen my
+fetters. You, young warrior, though you shine like the Sun, you have
+no power. Go! I give you a chance to escape me, but I could blow my
+breath and fold around you a mist which would turn you to ice forever!
+
+"I am not a friend to the Sun, who grows pale and cold and flees to
+the Southland when I come; yet I see his glance in your face, where no
+winter shadows hide. My North Wind will soon return; he hates the
+summer and will bind fast its hands. You fear me not, and smile
+because you know me not. Young man, listen. I am Gau-wi-di-ne, Winter!
+Now fear me and depart. Pass from my lodge and go out to the wind."
+
+But the young warrior moved not; he only smiled as he refilled the
+pipe for the trembling old man, saying, "Here, take your pipe; it will
+soothe you and make you stronger for a little while longer;" and he
+packed the o-yan-kwa[A] deep and hard in the pipe.
+
+ [A] Indian tobacco.
+
+Said the warrior, "Now you must smoke for me, smoke for Youth and
+Spring! I fear not your boasting; you are aged and slow while I am
+young and strong. I hear the voice of South Wind. Your North Wind
+hears, and Spirit of the Winds is hurrying him back to his home. Wrap
+you up warm while yet the snowdrifts cover the earth path, and flee to
+your lodge in the north sky. I am here now, and you shall know me. I,
+too, am powerful!
+
+"When I lift my hand, the sky opens wide and I waken the sleeping Sun,
+which follows me warm and glad. I touch the earth and it grows soft
+and gentle, and breathes strong and swift as my South Wind ploughs
+under the snows to loosen your grasp. The trees in the forest welcome
+my voice and send out their buds to my hand. When my breezes blow my
+long hair to the clouds, they send down gentle showers that whisper to
+the grasses to grow.
+
+"I came not to tarry long in my peace talk with you, but to smoke with
+you and warn you that the sun is waiting for me to open its door. You
+and the North Wind have built your lodge strong, but each wind, the
+North and the East, and the West, and the South, has its time for the
+earth. Now South Wind is calling me; return you to your big lodge in
+the sky. Travel quick on your way that you may not fall in the path
+of the Sun. See! It is now sending down its arrows broad and strong!"
+
+The old man saw and trembled. He seemed fading smaller, and grown too
+weak to speak, could only whisper, "Young warrior, who are you?"
+
+In a voice that breathed soft as the breath of wild blossoms, he
+answered: "I am Go-hay, Spring! I have come to rule, and my lodge now
+covers the earth! I have talked to your mountain and it has heard; I
+have called the South Wind and it is near; the Sun is awake from its
+winter sleep and summons me quick and loud. Your North Wind has fled
+to his north sky; you are late in following. You have lingered too
+long over your peace pipe and its smoke now floats far away. Haste
+while yet there is time that you may lose not your trail."
+
+And Go-hay began singing the Sun song as he opened the door of the
+lodge. Hovering above it was a great bird, whose wings seemed blown by
+a strong wind, and while Go-hay continued to sing, it flew down to the
+lodge and folding Gau-wi-di-ne to its breast, slowly winged away to
+the north, and when the Sun lifted its head in the east it beheld the
+bird disappearing behind the far-away sky. The Sun glanced down where
+Gau-wi-di-ne had built his lodge, whose fire had burned but could not
+warm, and a bed of young blossoms lifted their heads to the touch of
+its beams.
+
+Where the wood and the corn and the dried meat and fish had been
+heaped, a young tree was leafing, and a blue bird was trying its wings
+for a nest. And the great ice mountain had melted to a swift running
+river which sped through the valley bearing its message of the
+springtime.
+
+Gau-wi-di-ne had passed his time, and Go-hay reigned over the earth!
+
+
+
+
+NAMING THE WINDS
+
+(Indian Legend)
+
+
+Ga-oh the great master of the winds decided to choose his helpers from
+the animals of the earth. He blew a strong blast that shook the rocks
+and hills and when his reverberating call had ceased its thunderous
+echoes he opened the north gate wide across the sky and called
+Ya-o-gah, the Bear.
+
+Lumbering over the mountains as he pushed them from his path,
+Ya-o-gah, the bulky bear, who had battled the boisterous winds as he
+came, took his place at Ga-oh's gate and waited the mission of his
+call. Said Ga-oh, "Ya-o-gah, you are strong; you can freeze the waters
+with your cold breath; in your broad arms you can carry the wild
+tempests, and clasp the whole earth when I bid you destroy. I will
+place you in my far North, there to watch the herd of my winter winds
+when I loose them in the sky. You shall be North Wind. Enter your
+home." And the bear lowered his head for the leash with which Ga-oh
+bound him, and submissively took his place in the north sky.
+
+In a gentler voice Ga-oh called Ne-o-ga, the Fawn, and a soft breeze
+as of the summer crept over the sky; the air grew fragrant with the
+odour of flowers, and there were voices as of babbling brooks telling
+the secrets of the summer to the tune of birds, as Ne-o-ga came
+proudly lifting her head.
+
+Said Ga-oh, "You walk with the summer sun, and know all its paths; you
+are gentle, and kind as the sunbeam, and will rule my flock of the
+summer winds in peace. You shall be the South Wind. Bend your head
+while I leash you to the sky, for you are swift, and might return from
+me to the earth." And the gentle Fawn followed Ga-oh to his great gate
+which opens the south sky.
+
+Again Ga-oh trumpeted a shrill blast, and all the sky seemed
+threatening; an ugly darkness crept into the clouds that sent them
+whirling in circles of confusion. A quarrelsome, shrieking voice
+snarled through the air, and with a sound as of great claws tearing
+the heavens into rifts, Da-jo-ji, the Panther, sprang to the gate.
+
+Said Ga-oh, "You are ugly, and fierce, and can fight the strong
+storms; you can climb the high mountains, and tear down the forests;
+you can carry the whirlwind on your strong back, and toss the great
+sea waves high in the air, and snarl at the tempests if they stray
+from my gate. You shall be the West Wind. Go to the west sky, where
+even the Sun will hurry to hide when you howl your warning to the
+night." And Da-jo-ji, dragging his leash as he stealthily crept along,
+followed Ga-oh to the furthermost west sky.
+
+Yet Ga-oh rested not. The earth was flat, and in each of its four
+corners he must have an assistant. One corner yet remained, and again
+Ga-oh's strong blast shook the earth. And there arose a moan like the
+calling of a lost mate; the sky shivered in a cold rain; the whole
+earth clouded in mist; a crackling sound as of great horns crashing
+through the forest trees dinned the air, and O-yan-do-ne, the Moose,
+stood stamping his hoofs at the gate.
+
+Said Ga-oh, as he strung a strong leash around his neck, "Your breath
+blows the mist, and can lead the cold rains; your horns spread wide,
+and can push back the forests to widen the path for my storms as with
+your swift hoofs you race with my winds. You shall be the East Wind,
+and blow your breath to chill the young clouds as they float through
+the sky." Said Ga-oh as he led him to the east sky, "Here you shall
+dwell forevermore."
+
+Thus, with his assistants, does Ga-oh control his storms. And although
+he must ever remain in his sky lodge, his will is supreme, and his
+faithful assistants will obey!
+
+
+
+
+NORTH WIND'S FROLIC
+
+
+In a large, airy castle on the borders of a country far away, lived
+the King of the Winds with his four children, North Wind, South Wind,
+East Wind, and West Wind. They were a happy family, for the four
+children were always making merry with the old Wind King.
+
+North Wind, however, was a boisterous fellow, forever causing disorder
+even in their play.
+
+One summer day North Wind said that he was going out of the castle for
+a frolic.
+
+"Go," called out the King, "but be careful, North Wind, what you do.
+Your pranks are all very well while you are in the castle here, but
+out in the world they may do great harm."
+
+"Woo--oo--oo----," was all the King heard in answer, and away
+blustered North Wind out of the castle to the garden near by.
+
+The roses and lilies were just in bloom, and the ripe peaches hung on
+the trees ready to be picked.
+
+"Woo--oo--oo----," cried the North Wind in his loudest voice, and in a
+moment the rose petals were scattered all over the ground, the lilies
+were broken from their stems, and the ripe peaches dropped down right
+into the mud.
+
+In the fields he caused even greater damage. He broke the wheat stems,
+threw the unripe apples about. He tore the leaves from their branches
+and tossed them about in the air in all directions. Indeed, one old
+tree he completely uprooted.
+
+The people could stand it no longer. They went to the King of the
+Winds, who, in his castle had control over the coming and going of all
+the Winds, and told him what the wicked North Wind had done and how
+the garden and fields had suffered from the misery he had caused them.
+
+"I will summon North Wind," said his father. "He shall answer for all
+this."
+
+When North Wind appeared, the King repeated what the people had said.
+"Is this true, North Wind?" he asked.
+
+North Wind could not deny it, for the devastated garden and fields lay
+before every one's eyes.
+
+"Why did you do it?" asked the King.
+
+"Oh," answered North Wind, "I didn't mean it wickedly. I wanted to
+play with the roses and the lilies and the peaches--and all the rest.
+I didn't think I would do them any harm."
+
+"I see," said the King. "If you are such a clumsy fellow, then I do
+not dare to let you out for a frolic again. I must keep you a prisoner
+in the castle the whole summer. In the winter, when there are no more
+flowers and fruit, you may go out and be as boisterous as you like. I
+see you are fit only for the time of ice and snow and not for flowers
+and fruit."
+
+
+
+
+THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT
+
+Christina Rossetti
+
+
+ _Boys_
+
+ January
+ March
+ July
+ August
+ October
+ December
+
+ _Girls_
+
+ February
+ April
+ May
+ June
+ September
+ November
+
+ Robin Redbreast; Lambs and Sheep; Nightingale and Nestlings;
+ various Flowers, Fruits, etc.
+
+SCENE:--_A Cottage with its grounds._
+
+(_A room in a large comfortable cottage; a fire burning on the hearth;
+a table on which the breakfast things have been left standing. JANUARY
+discovered seated by the fire._)
+
+JANUARY
+
+ Cold the day and cold the drifted snow,
+ Dim the day until the cold dark night.
+
+(_Stirs the fire_)
+
+ Crackle, sparkle, faggot; embers glow:
+ Some one may be plodding through the snow
+ Longing for a light,
+ For the light that you and I can show.
+ If no one else should come,
+ Here Robin Redbreast's welcome to a crumb,
+ And never troublesome:
+ Robin, why don't you come and fetch your crumb?
+
+ Here's butter for my hunch of bread,
+ And sugar for your crumb;
+ Here's room upon the hearthrug,
+ If you'll only come.
+
+ In your scarlet waistcoat,
+ With your keen bright eye,
+ Where are you loitering?
+ Wings were made to fly!
+
+ Make haste to breakfast,
+ Come and fetch your crumb,
+ For I'm as glad to see you
+ As you are glad to come.
+
+(_Two Robin Redbreasts are seen tapping with their beaks at the
+lattice, which JANUARY opens. The birds flutter in, hop about the
+floor, and peck up the crumbs and sugar thrown to them. They have
+scarcely finished their meal when a knock is heard at the door.
+JANUARY hangs a guard in front of the fire, and opens to FEBRUARY, who
+appears with a bunch of snowdrops in her hand._)
+
+ Good-morrow, sister.
+
+FEBRUARY
+
+ Brother, joy to you!
+ I've brought some snowdrops; only just a few,
+ But quite enough to prove the world awake,
+ Cheerful and hopeful in the frosty dew
+ And for the pale sun's sake.
+
+(_She hands a few of her snowdrops to JANUARY, who retires into the
+background. While FEBRUARY stands arranging the remaining snowdrops in
+a glass of water on the window-sill, a soft butting and bleating are
+heard outside. She opens the door, and sees one foremost lamb with
+other sheep and lambs bleating and crowding towards her._)
+
+ O you, you little wonder, come--come in,
+ You wonderful, you woolly soft white lamb:
+ You panting mother ewe, come too,
+ And lead that tottering twin
+ Safe in:
+ Bring all your bleating kith and kin,
+ Except the horny ram.
+
+(_FEBRUARY opens a second door in the background, and the little flock
+files through into a warm and sheltered compartment out of sight._)
+
+ The lambkin tottering in its walk
+ With just a fleece to wear;
+ The snowdrop drooping on its stalk
+ So slender,--
+ Snowdrop and lamb, a pretty pair,
+ Braving the cold for our delight,
+ Both white
+ Both tender.
+
+(_A rattling of doors and windows; branches seen without, tossing
+violently to and fro._)
+
+ How the doors rattle, and the branches sway!
+ Here brother March comes whirling on his way
+ With winds that eddy and sing:--
+
+(_She turns the handle of the door, which bursts open, and discloses
+MARCH hastening up, both hands full of violets and anemones._)
+
+ Come, show me what you bring;
+ For I have said my say, fulfilled my day,
+ And must away.
+
+MARCH
+
+(_Stopping short on the threshold_)
+
+ I blow an arouse
+ Through the world's wide house
+ To quicken the torpid earth;
+ Grappling I fling
+ Each feeble thing,
+ But bring strong life to the birth.
+ I wrestle and frown,
+ And topple down;
+ I wrench, I rend, I uproot;
+ Yet the violet
+ Is born where I set
+ The sole of my flying foot.
+
+(_Hands violet and anemones to FEBRUARY, who retires into the
+background._)
+
+ And in my wake
+ Frail wind-flowers quake,
+ And the catkins promise fruit.
+ I drive ocean ashore
+ With rush and roar,
+ And he cannot say me nay:
+ My harpstrings all
+ Are the forests tall,
+ Making music when I play.
+
+(_Before MARCH has done speaking, a voice is heard approaching
+accompanied by a twittering of birds. APRIL comes along singing, and
+stands outside and out of sight to finish her song._)
+
+APRIL
+
+(_Outside_)
+
+ Pretty little three
+ Sparrows in a tree,
+ Light upon the wing;
+ Though you cannot sing
+ You can chirp of Spring:
+ Chirp of Spring to me,
+ Sparrows, from your tree.
+
+ Never mind the showers,
+ Chirp about the flowers
+ While you build a nest:
+ Straws from east and west,
+ Feathers from your breast,
+ Make the snuggest bowers
+ In a world of flowers.
+
+(_Appearing at the open door_)
+
+ Good-morrow and good-bye: if others fly,
+ Of all the flying months you're the most flying.
+
+MARCH
+
+ You're hope and sweetness, April.
+
+APRIL
+
+ I've a rainbow in my showers
+ And a lapful of flowers,
+ And these dear nestlings aged three hours;
+ And here's their mother sitting;
+ Their father's merely flitting
+ To find their breakfast somewhere in my bowers.
+
+(_As she speaks APRIL shows MARCH her apron full of flowers and nest
+full of birds. MARCH wanders away into the grounds. APRIL, without
+entering the cottage, hangs over the hungry nestlings watching them.
+MAY arrives unperceived by APRIL, and gives her a kiss. APRIL starts
+and looks round._)
+
+ Ah, May, good-morrow, May, and so good-bye.
+
+MAY
+
+ That's just your way, sweet April, smile and sigh:
+ Your sorrow's half in fun,
+ Begun and done
+ And turned to joy while twenty seconds run.
+ I've gathered flowers all as I came along,
+ At every step a flower
+ Fed by your last bright shower,--
+
+(_She divides an armful of all sorts of flowers with APRIL, who
+strolls away through the garden._)
+
+ And gathering flowers I listened to the song
+ Of every bird in bower.
+
+ Here are my buds of lily and rose,
+ And here's my namesake blossom may;
+ And from a watery spot
+ See here forget-me-not,
+ With all that blows
+ To-day.
+
+(_JUNE appears at the further end of the garden, coming slowly
+towards MAY, who, seeing her, exclaims:_)
+
+ Surely you're come too early, sister June.
+
+JUNE
+
+ Indeed I feel as if I came too soon
+ To round your young May moon
+ And set the world a-gasping at my noon.
+ Yet come I must. So here are strawberries
+ Sun-flushed and sweet, as many as you please;
+ And here are full-blown roses by the score,
+ More roses, and yet more.
+
+(_MAY, eating strawberries, withdraws among the flower beds. JUNE
+seats herself in the shadow of a laburnum._)
+
+ Or if I'm lulled by note of bird and bee,
+ Or lulled by noontide's silence deep,
+ I need but nestle down beneath my tree
+ And drop asleep.
+
+(_JUNE falls asleep; and is not awakened by the voice of JULY, who,
+behind the scenes, is heard, half singing, half calling._)
+
+JULY
+
+(_Behind the scenes_)
+
+ Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled,
+ Which will you take? yellow, blue, speckled!
+
+ Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow,
+ Each in its way has not a fellow.
+
+(_Enter JULY, a basket of many-coloured irises slung upon his
+shoulders, a bunch of ripe grass in one hand, and a plate piled full
+of peaches balanced upon the other. He steals up to JUNE, and tickles
+her with the grass. She wakes._)
+
+JUNE
+
+ What, here already?
+
+JULY
+
+ Nay, my tryst is kept;
+ The longest day slipped by you while you slept.
+ I've brought you one curved pyramid of bloom,
+
+(_Hands her the plate_)
+
+ Not flowers but peaches, gathered where the bees,
+ As downy, bask and boom
+ In sunshine and in gloom of trees.
+ But get you in, a storm is at my heels;
+ The whirlwind whistles and wheels,
+ Lightning flashes and thunder peals,
+ Flying and following hard upon my heels.
+
+(_JUNE takes shelter in a thickly-woven arbour_)
+
+ The roar of a storm sweeps up
+ From the east to the lurid west,
+ The darkening sky, like a cup,
+ Is filled with rain to the brink;
+ The sky is purple and fire,
+ Blackness and noise and unrest;
+ The earth, parched with desire
+ Opens her mouth to drink.
+ Have done with thunder and fire,
+ O sky with the rainbow crest;
+ O earth, have done with desire,
+ Drink, and drink deep, and rest.
+
+(_Enter AUGUST, carrying a sheaf made up of different kinds of
+grain._)
+
+ Hail, brother August, flushed and warm
+ And scathless from my storm,
+ Your hands are full of corn, I see,
+ As full as hands can be:
+ And earth and air both smell as sweet as balm
+ In their recovered calm,
+ And that they owe to me.
+
+(_JULY retires into a shrubbery_)
+
+AUGUST
+
+ Wheat sways heavy, oats are airy,
+ Barley bows a graceful head,
+ Short and small shoots up canary,
+ Each of these is some one's bread;
+ Bread for man or bread for beast,
+ Or, at very least,
+ A bird's savoury feast.
+
+(_AUGUST descries SEPTEMBER toiling across the lawn_)
+
+ My harvest home is ended; and I spy
+ September drawing nigh,
+ With the first thought of Autumn in her eye,
+ And the first sigh
+ Of Autumn wind among her locks that fly.
+
+(_SEPTEMBER arrives, carrying upon her head a basket heaped high with
+fruit_)
+
+SEPTEMBER
+
+ Unload me, brother. I have brought a few
+ Plums and these pears for you,
+ A dozen kinds of apples, one or two
+ Melons, some figs all bursting through
+ Their skins, and pearled with dew
+ These damsons violet-blue.
+
+(_While SEPTEMBER is speaking, AUGUST lifts the basket to the ground,
+selects various fruits, and withdraws slowly along the gravel walk,
+eating a pear as he goes._)
+
+ My song is half a sigh
+ Because my green leaves die;
+ Sweet are my fruits, but all my leaves are dying;
+ And well may Autumn sigh,
+ And well may I
+ Who watch the sere leaves flying.
+
+(_OCTOBER enters briskly, some leafy twigs bearing different sorts of
+nuts in one hand, and a long ripe hop-bine trailing after him from the
+other. A dahlia is stuck in his buttonhole._)
+
+OCTOBER
+
+ Nay, cheer up, sister. Life is not quite over,
+ Even if the year has done with corn and clover,
+ With flowers and leaves; besides, in fact, it's true
+ Some leaves remain and some flowers too.
+ For me and you.
+ Now see my crops:
+
+(_Offering his produce to SEPTEMBER_)
+
+ I've brought you nuts and hops;
+ And when the leaf drops, why, the walnut drops.
+
+(_OCTOBER wreathes the hop-bine about SEPTEMBER'S neck, and gives her
+the nut twigs. They enter the cottage together, but without shutting
+the door. She steps into the background; he advances to the hearth,
+removes the guard, stirs up the smouldering fire, and arranges several
+chestnuts ready to roast._)
+
+ Crack your first nut and light your first fire,
+ Roast your first chestnut crisp on the bar;
+ Make the logs sparkle, stir the blaze higher,
+ Logs are cheery as sun or as star,
+ Logs we can find wherever we are.
+ Spring one soft day will open the leaves,
+ Spring one bright day will lure back the flowers;
+ Never fancy my whistling wind grieves,
+ Never fancy I've tears in my showers:
+ Dance, nights and days! and dance on, my hours!
+
+(_Sees NOVEMBER approaching_)
+
+ Here comes my youngest sister, looking dim
+ And grim
+ With dismal ways.
+ What cheer, November?
+
+NOVEMBER
+
+(_Entering and shutting the door_)
+
+ Nought have I to bring,
+ Tramping a-chill and shivering,
+ Except these pine cones for a blaze,--
+ Except a fog which follows,
+ And stuffs up all the hollows,--
+ Except a hoar frost here and there,--
+ Except some shooting stars
+ Which dart their luminous cars
+ Trackless and noiseless through the keen night air.
+
+(_OCTOBER, shrugging his shoulders, withdraws into the background,
+while NOVEMBER throws her pine cones on the fire, and sits down
+listlessly._)
+
+ The earth lies asleep, grown tired
+ Of all that's high or deep;
+ There's nought desired and nought required
+ Save a sleep.
+ I rock the cradle of the earth,
+ I lull her with a sigh;
+ And know that she will wake to mirth
+ By and by.
+
+(_Through the window DECEMBER is seen running and leaping in the
+direction of the door. He knocks._)
+
+ Ah, here's my youngest brother come at last:
+
+(_Calls out without rising._)
+
+ Come in, December.
+
+(_He opens the door and enters, loaded with evergreens in berry,
+etc._)
+
+ Come, and shut the door,
+ For now it's snowing fast;
+ It snows, and will snow more and more;
+ Don't let it drift in on the floor.
+ But you, you're all aglow; how can you be
+ Rosy and warm and smiling in the cold?
+
+DECEMBER
+
+ Nay, no closed doors for me,
+ But open doors and open hearts and glee
+ To welcome young and old.
+
+ Dimmest and brightest month am I;
+ My short days end, my lengthening days begin;
+ What matters more or less sun in the sky,
+ When all is sun within?
+
+(_He begins making a wreath as he sings_)
+
+ Ivy and privet dark as night,
+ I weave with hips and haws a cheerful show,
+ And holly for a beauty and delight,
+ And milky mistletoe.
+
+ While high above them all I set
+ Yew twigs and Christmas roses pure and pale;
+ Then Spring her snowdrop and her violet
+ May keep, so sweet and frail;
+
+ May keep each merry singing bird,
+ Of all her happy birds that singing build:
+ For I've a carol which some shepherds heard
+ Once in a wintry field.
+
+(_While DECEMBER concludes his song all the other Months troop in from
+the garden, or advance out of the background. The Twelve join hands in
+a circle, and begin dancing round to a stately measure as the curtain
+falls._)
+
+(_Abridged._)
+
+
+
+
+PRINCE WINTER
+
+Carl Ewald
+
+
+The Prince of Winter sat on the mountains: an old man with white hair
+and beard. His naked breast was shaggy, shaggy his legs and hands. He
+looked strong and wild with cold stern eyes.
+
+But he was not angry as when Spring drove him from the valley and when
+Autumn did not go quickly enough. He looked out over the kingdom
+calmly for he knew that it was his. And, when he found anything dead
+or empty or desolate, he plucked at his great white beard and gave a
+harsh and satisfied laugh.
+
+But all that lived in the land was struck with terror when it looked
+into his cold eyes.
+
+The trees shook in their thick bark, and the bushes struck their
+branches together in consternation. The mouse became quite
+snow-blind, when she peeped outside the door; the stag looked
+mournfully over the white meadow.
+
+"My muzzle can still break thro' the ice, when I drink," he said. "I
+can still scrape the snow to one side and find a tuft of grass. But,
+if things go on like this for another week, then it's all up with me."
+
+The crow and the chaffinch and the sparrow and the tit had quite lost
+their voices. They thought of the other birds, who had departed in
+time, and they who remained knew not where to turn in their distress.
+At last they set out in a row to carry their humble greeting to the
+new lord of the land.
+
+"Here come your birds, O mightiest of all Princes!" said the crow and
+stood and marked time in the white snow. "The others left the country
+as soon as you announced your coming, but we have remained to submit
+us to your sway. Now be a gracious lord to us and grant us food."
+
+"We bow before Your Highness!" said the chaffinch.
+
+"We have so longed for you," said the tit, and he put his head on one
+side.
+
+And the sparrow said the same as the others, in a tone of deep
+respect.
+
+But the Prince of Winter laughed at them disdainfully.
+
+"Ha, you time-serving birds! In Summer's time you amused yourselves
+merrily, in Autumn's, you ate yourselves stout and fat; and as soon as
+Spring strikes up you will dance to his piping like the others. I hate
+you and your screaming and squalling and the trees you hop about in.
+You are all here to defy me and I shall do for you if I can." Then he
+rose in all his strength.
+
+"I have my own birds and now you shall see them."
+
+He clapped his hands and sang:
+
+ "Wee snow-birds, white snow-birds,
+ White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
+ Through fields skim along!
+ To jubilant Spring I grudge music of no birds,
+ To Summer, no song.
+
+ "Come, Winter's mute messengers,
+ Swift birds and slow birds,
+ White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
+ Till the valley be soft as down for your nestling
+ Of numberless ice-eggs by frosty rims spanned!
+ Now rushing, now resting,
+ White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
+ Skim soft thro' the land!"
+
+And Winter's birds came.
+
+Suddenly, it darkened, and the air became full of little black specks,
+which descended and turned into great white snow-flakes.
+
+They fell over the ground in an endless multitude. There was now not a
+blade of grass, nor yet a stone to be seen: everything was smooth and
+soft and white. Only the trees stood out high in the air and the river
+flowed black thro' the meadow.
+
+"I know how to crush you," said the Prince of Winter.
+
+And, when evening came, he told the wind to go down. Then the waves
+became small and still, Winter stared at them with his cold eyes, and
+the ice built its bridge from bank to bank. In vain the waves tried to
+hum Spring's song. There was no strength in their voices.
+
+Next morning there was nothing left to the river but a narrow channel;
+and, when one more night had passed, the bridge was finished. Again
+the Prince of Winter called for his white birds; and soon the carpet
+was drawn over the river till it was no longer possible to see where
+land began or water ended.
+
+But the trees stood boldly out of the deep snow, the firs had kept all
+their leaves and were so green that it was quite shocking to behold.
+Wherever they stood, they were a protection against the frost and a
+shelter against the snow; and the chaffinch and the other small birds
+found refuge under their roofs.
+
+The Prince of Winter looked at them angrily.
+
+"If I could but break you!" he said. "You stand in the midst of my
+kingdom keeping guard for Summer and you give shelter to the birds
+who disturb the peace of my land. If only I had snow enough to bury
+you!"
+
+But the trees stood strong under Winter's wrath and waved their long
+branches.
+
+"You have taken from us what you can," they said. "Farther than that
+you cannot go. We will wait calmly for better times."
+
+When they had said this Winter suddenly set eyes upon tiny little buds
+round about the twigs. He saw the little brown mice trip out for a run
+in the snow and disappear again into their snug parlours before his
+eyes. He heard the hedgehog snoring in the hedge; and the crows kept
+on screaming in his ears. Through his own ice he saw the noses of the
+frogs stick up from the bottom of the pond.
+
+"Am I the master or not?" he shouted. He tore at his beard with both
+hands.
+
+He heard the anemones breathe peacefully and lightly in the mould; he
+heard thousands of grubs bore deep into the wood of the trees as
+cheerfully as though Summer were in the land. He saw the bees crawl
+about in their busy hive and share the honey they had collected in
+summer, and have a happy time. He saw the bat in the hollow tree, the
+worm deep in the ground; and, wherever he turned, he saw millions of
+eggs and grubs and chrysalides, well guarded and waiting confidently
+for him to go away.
+
+He stamped on the ground and shouted in his loud, hoarse voice:
+
+ "Roar forth, mine anger, roar, and rouse,
+ What breathes below earth's girder!
+ By thousands slay them!"
+
+He shouted it over the land.
+
+The ice broke and split into long cracks. It sounded like thunder from
+the bottom of the river.
+
+Then the storm broke loose. The gale roared so that you could hear the
+trees fall crashing in the forest. The ice was split in two and the
+huge floes heaped up into towering icebergs. The snow fell and drifted
+over meadow and hill; sky and earth were blended into one. It was
+piercingly cold, and where the snow had been blown away the ground was
+hard as stone.
+
+The Prince of Winter stood in the valley and looked upon all this
+with content. He went into the forest, where the snow was frozen to
+windward right up to the tips of the smooth beech-trunks; but in the
+boughs of the fir-trees it lay so thick that they were weighted right
+down to the ground.
+
+"You may be Summer's servants," he said, "but still you have to resign
+yourselves to wearing my livery. And now the sun shall shine on you;
+and I will have a glorious day."
+
+He bade the sun come out and he came.
+
+He rode over a bright blue sky, and all that was still alive in the
+valley raised itself towards him for warmth.
+
+"Call Spring back to the valleys! Give us Summer again!"
+
+The sun gleamed upon the hoar-frost but could not melt it; he stared
+down at the snow, but could not thaw it. The valley lay silent.
+
+"That's how I like to see the land," said Winter.
+
+The Prince of Winter sat on his mountain throne again and surveyed his
+kingdom and was glad. His great cold eyes stared, while he growled in
+his beard.
+
+ Proud of speed and hard of hand,
+ A cruel lord to follow,
+ Winter locks up sea and land,
+ Blocks up every hollow.
+
+ Summer coaxes, sweet and bland,
+ Flowers in soft vigour,
+ At Winter's harsh and grim command
+ They die of ruthless rigour.
+
+ Short and cold is Winter's Day,
+ Long and worse night's hours,
+ Few birds languish in his pay
+ And yet fewer flowers.
+
+The days wore on and Winter reigned over the land.
+
+The little brown mice had eaten their last nut; the hedgehog was
+hungry and the crows were nearly giving in.
+
+Then suddenly there came the sound of singing.
+
+ Play up! Play soon,
+ Keep time! Keep time!
+ Ye wavelets blue and tender,
+ Keep time! Keep time!
+ Burst ice and rime
+ In equinoctial splendor.
+
+Up leaped Winter and stared with his hands over his brows.
+
+Down below in the valley stood the Prince of Spring, young and
+straight in his green garb, with the lute slung over his shoulder. His
+long hair waved in the wind and his face was soft and round, his mouth
+was ever smiling and his eyes were dreamy and moist.
+
+
+
+
+HOW SPRING AND WINTER MET
+
+
+ The Winter and the Spring were met:
+ The Winter threw a fleecy net,
+ And caught the young Spring over night.
+ He put to sleep the budding tree
+ Within a cloister dim and white;
+ And the little golden crocus flower,
+ That comes too early for the bee,
+ He hid away from sunrise hour.
+ The brook was conscious of his power
+ And lost its trick of babbling words.
+
+ But Spring awoke, despite his craft,
+ And out of windows looked and laughed.
+
+ At first he set to sing all birds,
+ With twittering voices small and clear,
+ And bade them say they felt no grief
+ To find the snow and mildewed leaf
+ Heaped up in nests they built last year.
+ Then found a crystal alcove high
+ The bluebird carolled to the sky.
+ The robin whistled cheer, good cheer!
+ The sparrow rung his matin bells,
+ And far away in reedy dells
+ The quail a friendly greeting sent.
+ Then was the stifled pine not loth
+ To shuffle off the dull white sloth;
+ Then leaped the brook by icy stair,
+ And snapped his fetters as he went;
+ The sun shone out most full and fair,
+ And Winter rose and struck his tent.
+
+ Edith M. Thomas.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+On pp. 13-14 the text reads, "The king took up the sack nearest to
+him, their surprise, when out rushed a great heap of brown leaves,
+which flew all over the floor and half choked them with dust!" It
+appears there may be some missing text between "nearest to him" and
+"their surprise"; there does not appear to be any damage or obscured
+text in the original book, and the line count matches that of other
+pages, so it may be that a line was omitted during typesetting. The
+transcriber was unable to locate an alternative printing of the story,
+so, as it is impossible to determine what that text may be, the
+omission is preserved as printed.
+
+Poe is referred to in this text as Edgar Allen Poe, rather than the
+more usual Edgar Allan Poe. This is preserved as printed.
+
+Although authors and translators are listed in the Table of Contents,
+their names are not always included with their prose in the main text.
+This convention is retained here to match the original book.
+
+Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.
+
+Hyphenation and capitalisation has been made consistent within
+individual pieces in the book.
+
+The following amendments have been made:
+
+ First page of Acknowledgments--Edinburg amended to
+ Edinburgh--"To T. C. and E. C. Jack of Edinburgh ..."
+
+ Second page of Acknowledgments--Procter amended to
+ Proctor--"... James Russell Lowell, Edna Dean Proctor, ..."
+
+ Second page of Contents--Horatio amended to Horatia--"...
+ _Juliana Horatia Ewing_ ..."
+
+ Third page of Contents--Spring and Winter reversed--"How
+ Spring and Winter Met ..."
+
+ Page 19--Parain amended to Parian--"... On coop or kennel he
+ hangs Parian wreaths; ..."
+
+ Page 52--truely amended to truly--"I have told you truly who
+ she is."
+
+ Page 75--place amended to placed--"... they are placed
+ alternately on each side ..."
+
+ Page 279--stone amended to stove--"I went under the stove
+ and could lie down ..."
+
+ Page 360--hop-vine amended to hop-bine--"... and a long ripe
+ hop-bine trailing after him ..."
+
+The frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page.
+The caption in {brackets} has been added by the transcriber for the
+convenience of the reader.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pearl Story Book, by Various
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pearl Story Book, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Pearl Story Book
+ Stories and Legends of Winter, Christmas, and New Year's Day
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: December 6, 2010 [EBook #34571]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PEARL STORY BOOK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1 class="padtop">THE<br />
+PEARL STORY BOOK<br />
+
+<span class="tinyfont"><i>Stories and Legends of
+Winter, Christmas, and New Year&rsquo;s Day</i></span></h1>
+
+
+<p class="center padtop"><span class="vsmlfont">COMPILED BY</span><br />
+<br />
+<span class="lrgfont">ADA M. SKINNER</span><br />
+
+<span class="vsmlfont">AND</span><br />
+
+<span class="lrgfont">ELEANOR L. SKINNER</span></p>
+
+<p class="center smlfont"><i>Editors of &ldquo;The Emerald Story Book,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Topaz Story Book,&rdquo;<br />
+&ldquo;The Turquoise Story Book,&rdquo; &ldquo;Children&rsquo;s Plays,&rdquo; Etc.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter padtop imgw1">
+<img src="images/psb01.jpg" width="125" height="174"
+alt="Publisher's logo" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="center padtop"><span class="smlfont">NEW YORK</span><br />
+DUFFIELD &amp; COMPANY<br />
+<span class="smlfont">1919</span></p>
+
+
+
+<p class="center vsmlfont padtop padbase">Copyright 1910 by<br />
+DUFFIELD &amp; COMPANY</p>
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter imgw2">
+<img src="images/psb02.jpg" width="390" height="590"
+alt="Three shepherds look up at the sky, amazed" />
+<p class="caption">Drawn by Maxfield Parrish</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="acknowledgments" id="acknowledgments"></a>ACKNOWLEDGMENTS</h2>
+
+
+<p>The editors&rsquo; thanks are due to the following
+authors and publishers for the use of valuable
+material in this book:</p>
+
+<p>To T.&nbsp;C. and E.&nbsp;C. Jack of Edinburgh for
+permission to use &ldquo;Holly&rdquo; and the legend of
+the &ldquo;Yew&rdquo; from &ldquo;Shown to the Children
+Series&rdquo;; to Frederick A. Stokes Company for
+&ldquo;The Voice of the Pine Trees,&rdquo; from &ldquo;Myths
+and Legends of Japan&rdquo;; to the Wessels Company
+for &ldquo;The First Winter&rdquo; by W.&nbsp;W. Canfield;
+to Julia Dodge for permission to use two
+poems by Mary Mapes Dodge; to the Christian
+Herald for a poem by Margaret E.
+Sangster, Jr.; to Lothrop, Lee and Shepherd
+for &ldquo;The Pine and the Flax&rdquo; by Albrekt Segerstedt;
+to the Outlook Company for a story
+by Mine Morishima; to the Independent for
+the poem &ldquo;Who Loves the Trees Best?&rdquo;; to
+Laura E. Richards for her story &ldquo;Christmas
+Gifts&rdquo;; to George Putnam and Sons for &ldquo;Silver
+Bells&rdquo; by Hamish Hendry, and &ldquo;The
+Happy Prince&rdquo; by Oscar Wilde; to the
+Churchman for a story by John P. Peters; to
+Dodd, Mead and Company for the story
+&ldquo;Holly&rdquo; from the &ldquo;Story Hour&rdquo;; and &ldquo;Prince
+Winter&rdquo; from &ldquo;The Four Seasons&rdquo; by Carl
+Ewald; to George Jacobs for &ldquo;A Legend of
+St. Nicholas&rdquo; from &ldquo;In God&rsquo;s Garden&rdquo; by
+Amy Steedman; to A. Flanagan Company for
+&ldquo;The New Year&rsquo;s Bell&rdquo; from &ldquo;Christ-Child
+Tales&rdquo; by Andrea Hofer Proudfoot; to Jay T.
+Stocking and the Pilgrims Press for &ldquo;The
+Snowball That Didn&rsquo;t Melt&rdquo; from &ldquo;The Golden
+Goblet&rdquo;; to the New York State Museum
+for permission to use two stories contained in
+Bulletin 125, by Mrs. H.&nbsp;M. Converse; to
+Small, Maynard and Company for &ldquo;A Song
+of the Snow,&rdquo; from &ldquo;Complete Works of
+Madison Cawein.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The selections from James Russell Lowell,
+Edna Dean Proctor, Celia Thaxter, Nathaniel
+Hawthorne, Edith M. Thomas, Margaret
+Deland, John Townsend Trowbridge, and
+Frank Dempster Sherman are used by permission
+of, and by special arrangement with,
+Houghton, Mifflin Company, authorized
+publishers of their works.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="contents" id="contents"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of contents">
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl"><a href="#introduction">INTRODUCTION</a></td>
+ <td class="tdrt">&nbsp;</td>
+ <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdc" colspan="3"><a href="#book1">WINTER STORIES AND LEGENDS</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">&nbsp;</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><small>PAGE</small></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Winter (selection)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">James Russell Lowell</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap01">2</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Ice King (Indian legend)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Eleanor L. Skinner</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap02">3</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">A Song of the Snow (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Madison Cawein</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap03">9</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">King Frost and King Winter (adapted)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Margaret T. Canby</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap04">11</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Snowstorm (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Ralph Waldo Emerson</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap05">18</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The First Winter (Iroquois legend)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">W. W. Canfield</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap06">20</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Snow Song (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Frank Dempster Sherman</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap07">24</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Snow Maiden (Russian legend. Translated from the French)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Eleanor L. Skinner</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap08">25</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Frost King (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Mary Mapes Dodge</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap09">30</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">King Winter&rsquo;s Harvest</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Selected</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap10">32</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Old King Winter (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Anna E. Skinner</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap11">36</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Sheltering Wings</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Harriet Louise Jerome</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap12">37</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Snowflakes (selection)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap13">41</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Snow-Image</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Nathaniel Hawthorne</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk1chap14">42</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdc" colspan="3"><a href="#book2">WINTER WOODS</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The First Snow-Fall</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">James Russell Lowell</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap01">62</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Voice of the Pine Trees (Japanese legend)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Frank Hadland Davis</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap02">63</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Pine Tree Maiden (Indian legend)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Ada M. Skinner</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap03">68</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Holly</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Janet Harvey Kelman</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap04">73</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Fable of the Three Elms (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Margaret E. Sangster, Jr.</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap05">79</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Pine and the Willow</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Mine Morishima</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap06">82</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Why the Wild Rabbits Are White in Winter (Algonquin legend retold)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Eleanor L. Skinner</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap07">86</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Yew</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Janet Harvey Kelman</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap08">93</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">How the Pine Tree Did Some Good</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Samuel W. Duffield</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap09">95</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">A Wonderful Weaver (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">George Cooper</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap10">105</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Pine and the Flax</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Albrekt Segerstedt</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap11">107</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Fir Tree (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Edith M. Thomas</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap12">110</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Why Bruin Has a Stumpy Tail (Norwegian legend)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Eleanor L. Skinner</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap13">111</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Pines and Firs</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Mrs. Dyson</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap14">116</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Who Loves the Trees Best? (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Selected</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk2chap15">131</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdc" colspan="3"><a href="#book3">CHRISTMAS EVERYWHERE</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">A Christmas Song</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Phillips Brooks</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap01">134</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Shepherd Maiden&rsquo;s Gift (Eastern legend)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Eleanor L. Skinner</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap02">135</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Christmas Gifts</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Laura E. Richards</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap03">141</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Silver Bells (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Hamish Hendry</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap04">146</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Animals&rsquo; Christmas Tree</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">John P. Peters</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap05">147</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">A Christmas Carol</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Christina Rossetti</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap06">162</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Holly</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Ada M. Marzials</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap07">164</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Willow Man (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Juliana Horatia Ewing</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap08">175</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Ivy Green (selection)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Charles Dickens</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap09">178</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Legend of St. Nicholas</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Amy Steedman</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap10">179</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Christmas Bells (selection)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap11">197</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">A Night With Santa Claus</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Anna R. Annan</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap12">198</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">A Child&rsquo;s Thought About Santa Claus (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Sydney Dayre</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap13">208</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Charity in a Cottage</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Jean Ingelow</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap14">210</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Waits (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Margaret Deland</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap15">223</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Where Love Is There God Is Also (adapted)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Leo Tolstoi</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap16">225</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Dinah Mulock Craik</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk3chap17">234</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdc" colspan="3"><a href="#book4">THE GLAD NEW YEAR</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Glad New Year (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Mary Mapes Dodge</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk4chap01">236</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Bad Little Goblin&rsquo;s New Year</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Mary Stewart</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk4chap02">237</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Selection</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Robert Herrick</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk4chap03">248</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Queen of the Year (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Edna Dean Proctor</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk4chap04">249</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The New Year&rsquo;s Bell</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Andrea Hofer Proudfoot</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk4chap05">250</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The New Year</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Selected</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk4chap06">256</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Child and the Year (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Celia Thaxter</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk4chap07">257</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">A Masque of the Days</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Charles Lamb</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk4chap08">258</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Ring Out, Wild Bells (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Alfred Tennyson</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk4chap09">262</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdc" colspan="3"><a href="#book5">MIDWINTER</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Bells (selection)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Edgar Allen Poe</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk5chap01">264</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">A January Thaw</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Dallas Lore Sharp</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk5chap02">265</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Snow Man</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Hans Christian Andersen</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk5chap03">276</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Happy Prince</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Oscar Wilde</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk5chap04">284</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Legend of King Wenceslaus (adapted)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">John Mason Neale</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk5chap05">303</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Midwinter (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">John Townsend Trowbridge</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk5chap06">310</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdc" colspan="3"><a href="#book6">WHEN WINTER AND SPRING MET</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Old Winter (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Thomas Noel</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk6chap01">314</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Snowball That Didn&rsquo;t Melt</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Jay T. Stocking</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk6chap02">315</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Gau-wi-di-ne and Go-hay (Iroquois legend retold)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Eleanor L. Skinner</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk6chap03">330</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Naming the Winds (Indian legend retold)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Ada M. Skinner</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk6chap04">339</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">North Wind&rsquo;s Frolic (translated)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Montgomery Maze</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk6chap05">343</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">The Months: A Pageant (adapted)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Christina Rossetti</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk6chap06">346</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">Prince Winter</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Carl Ewald</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk6chap07">366</a></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">How Spring and Winter Met (poem)</td>
+ <td class="tdrt">Edith M. Thomas</td>
+ <td class="tdr"><a href="#bk6chap08">376</a></td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="introduction" id="introduction"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;Once upon a time,&rdquo; in the winter season
+suggests happy, young faces grouped about a
+blazing fire. A heavy snowstorm promises
+plenty of sport for tomorrow, but at present
+the cosiness indoors is very attractive, especially
+now that the evening story hour is at
+hand. And while the story-teller is slowly
+choosing his subjects he hears the children&rsquo;s
+impatient whispers of &ldquo;The Snow Man,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Prince Winter,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Legend of Holly,&rdquo;
+&ldquo;The Animals&rsquo; Christmas Tree.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Silence! The story-teller turns his eyes
+from the glowing fire to the faces of his eager
+audience. He is ready to begin.</p>
+
+<p>Each season of the year opens a treasury of
+suggestion for stories. In the beauty and wonder
+of nature are excellent themes for tales
+which quicken children&rsquo;s interest in the promise
+of joyous springtime, in the rich pageantry
+of ripening summer, in the blessings of generous
+autumn, and in the merry cheer of grim
+old winter.</p>
+
+<p>The Pearl Story Book is the fourth volume
+in a series of nature books each of which emphasizes
+the interest and beauty characteristic
+of a particular season. The central theme of
+this volume is winter, &ldquo;snow-wrapped and
+holly-decked.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"><!-- no visible page number --></a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="padtop"><a name="book1" id="book1"></a>WINTER STORIES AND LEGENDS</h2>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>2]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="padtop"><a name="bk1chap01" id="bk1chap01"></a>WINTER</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the snow five thousand summers old;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On open wold and hill-top bleak<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It had gathered all the cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer&rsquo;s cheek.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It carried a shiver everywhere<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The little brook heard it and built a roof<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&rsquo;Neath which he could house him winter-proof;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All night by the white stars&rsquo; frosty gleams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He groined his arches and matched his beams;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slender and clear were his crystal spars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the lashes of light that trim the stars:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sculptured every summer delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his halls and chambers out of sight.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">James Russell Lowell.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>3]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap02" id="bk1chap02"></a>THE ICE KING</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Indian Legend)</p>
+
+
+<p>Once upon a time there was an Indian village
+built on the bank of a wide river. During the
+spring, summer, and autumn the people were
+very happy. There was plenty of fuel and
+game in the deep woods; the river afforded excellent
+fish. But the Indians dreaded the
+months when the Ice King reigned.</p>
+
+<p>One winter the weather was terribly cold
+and the people suffered severely. The Ice
+King called forth the keen wind from the
+northern sky, and piled the snowdrifts so high
+in the forests that it was most difficult to supply
+the wigwams with game. He covered the
+river with ice so thick that the Indians feared
+it would never melt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When will the Ice King leave us?&rdquo; they
+asked each other. &ldquo;We shall all perish if he
+continues his cruel reign.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At last signs of spring encouraged the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>4]</a></span>
+stricken people. The great snowdrifts in the
+forests disappeared and the ice on the river
+broke into large pieces. All of these floated
+downstream except one huge cake which
+lodged on the bank very near the village. And
+when the Indians saw that the spring sunshine
+did not melt this great mass of ice they were
+puzzled and anxious.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is the roof of the Ice King&rsquo;s lodge,&rdquo; they
+said. &ldquo;We shall never enjoy warm weather
+while he dwells near us. Have we no brave
+who is willing to do battle with this winter tyrant?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At last, a courageous young hunter armed
+himself with a huge club and went forth to see
+if he could shatter the glittering frozen mass
+and rid the village of the giant who dwelt
+beneath it. With all his strength he struck the
+ice roof blow upon blow, crying out, &ldquo;Begone,
+O cruel Ice King! Your time is past! Begone!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Finally, there was a deafening noise like the
+crashing of forest trees when the lightning
+strikes, and the huge ice cake split into several
+pieces.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>5]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Begone!&rdquo; cried the young brave, as he
+struggled with each great lump of ice until he
+pushed it from the bank and tumbled it into
+the river below.</p>
+
+<p>And when the mighty task was finished the
+white figure of the Ice King stood before the
+Indian brave.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have ruined my lodge,&rdquo; said the
+giant.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The winter season is past,&rdquo; answered the
+brave. &ldquo;Begone!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;After several moons I shall return to stay,&rdquo;
+threatened the Ice King. Then he stalked
+away toward the North.</p>
+
+<p>The people were very happy when they
+knew that the young brave had conquered the
+giant; but their joy was somewhat dampened
+when they heard about the threatened return
+of the Ice King.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall prepare for his return and do battle
+with him again,&rdquo; declared the Indian conqueror.</p>
+
+<p>This promise comforted the people somewhat,
+but still they thought of the coming winter
+with dread.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>6]</a></span>
+During the autumn the hunter built near
+the river a strong wigwam and stored therein
+abundant fuel and dried game. He filled
+many bags made of skin, with oil, which he
+procured from the animals he killed. Also,
+he was well supplied with fur rugs, blankets,
+and warm clothes.</p>
+
+<p>At last the winter season came. The cold
+north wind blew unceasingly, the snow piled
+high around the wigwams; ice several feet
+thick covered the river.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Ice King has come,&rdquo; said the Indians.
+&ldquo;If he keeps his threat to stay among us we
+shall surely perish.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One bitter cold day the young Indian who
+had prepared well for the severe weather sat
+in his wigwam near a blazing fire. Suddenly,
+a strong gust of wind tore aside the bear skin
+which protected the doorway and into the
+lodge stalked the Ice King. His freezing
+breath filled the place and dampened the fire.
+He took a seat opposite the Indian brave who
+said, &ldquo;Welcome, Ice King.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve come to stay,&rdquo; answered the giant.</p>
+
+<p>The Indian shivered with cold at the sudden
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>7]</a></span>
+change of temperature in his wigwam, but
+he rose and brought more logs to the fire.
+Also, he opened one of his bags of oil and
+poured the contents on the great pieces of
+wood. The flames soon caught the oil-soaked
+logs and a roaring fire crackled and blazed in
+the wigwam. More and more fuel the young
+brave piled on his fire until finally the frosty
+cold air was changed to summer heat.</p>
+
+<p>The Ice King shifted his seat away from the
+glowing fire. Farther and farther away he
+pushed until he sat with his back against the
+wall of the wigwam. As he moved he seemed
+to grow smaller and weaker. The icy feathers
+of his headgear drooped about his forehead
+and great drops of sweat covered his face.
+But still the Indian brave piled fuel on the
+blazing fire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Spare me, O hunter,&rdquo; cried the Ice King.</p>
+
+<p>But to the words of the giant the young Indian
+was deaf. He opened another bag of
+oil and poured it on the logs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have mercy, I beg you!&rdquo; pleaded the Ice
+King. He rose and staggered toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have conquered me,&rdquo; he said in a weak
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>8]</a></span>
+voice. &ldquo;I will depart. Twice you have won a
+victory over me. I give up my hope of reigning
+continually among your people. My season
+shall last during three moons, only.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He staggered out of the wigwam and stalked
+wearily away. Since that day the giant Ice
+King has not tried to reign throughout the
+year.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap03" id="bk1chap03"></a>A SONG OF THE SNOW</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sing, Ho, a song of the winter dawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the air is still and the clouds are gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the snow lies deep on hill and lawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the old clock ticks, &ldquo;&rsquo;Tis time! &rsquo;Tis time!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the household rises with many a yawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing, Ho, a song of the winter dawn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sing, Ho!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sing, Ho, a song of the winter sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the last star closes its icy eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And deep in the road the snow-drifts lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the old clock ticks, &ldquo;&rsquo;Tis late! &rsquo;Tis late!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the flame on the hearth leaps red&mdash;leaps high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing, Ho, a song of the winter sky!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sing, Ho!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>10]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing, Ho, a song of the winter morn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the snow makes ghostly the wayside thorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hills of pearl are the shocks of corn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the old clock ticks, &ldquo;Tick-tock; tick-tock;&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the goodman bustles about the barn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing, Ho, a song of the winter morn!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sing, Ho!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sing, Ho, a song of the winter day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When ermine capped are the stocks of hay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the wood-smoke pillars the air with gray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the old clock ticks, &ldquo;To work! To work!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the goodwife sings as she churns away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing, Ho, a song of the winter day!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sing, Ho!<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Madison Cawein.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>11]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap04" id="bk1chap04"></a>KING FROST AND KING WINTER</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Margaret T. Canby</p>
+
+
+<p>King Winter lives in a very strong palace
+near the cold North Pole; it is built of great
+blocks of thick ice, and all around it stand
+high, pointed icebergs, and cross, white bears
+keep guard at the gate. He has many little
+fairy servants to do his bidding and they are
+like their master, cross and spiteful, and seldom
+do any kind actions, so that few are found
+who love them. King Winter is rich and powerful,
+but he keeps all his wealth so tightly
+locked up that it does no one any good; and
+what is worse, he often tries to get the treasures
+of other persons, to add to the store in
+his money chests.</p>
+
+<p>One day when this selfish old king was walking
+through the woods he saw the leaves
+thickly covered with gold and precious stones,
+which had been spread upon them by King
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>12]</a></span>
+Frost, to make the trees more beautiful and
+give pleasure to all who saw them. But looking
+at them did not satisfy King Winter; he
+wanted to have the gold for his own, and he
+made up his mind to get it, somehow. Back
+he went to his palace to call his servants home
+to do this new work. As soon as he reached
+the gate, he blew a loud, shrill note on his horn
+and in a few minutes his odd little fairies came
+flying in at the windows and doors and stood
+before him quietly waiting their commands.
+The king ordered some to go out into the forest,
+at nightfall, armed with canes and clubs,
+and beat off all the gold and ruby leaves; and
+he told others to take strong bags, and gather
+up all the treasure, and bring it to him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If that silly King Frost does not think any
+more of gold and precious stones than to waste
+them on trees I shall teach him better,&rdquo; said
+the old king.</p>
+
+<p>The fairies promised to obey him, and as
+soon as night came, off they rushed to the forest,
+and a terrible noise they made, flying from
+one beautiful tree to another, banging and
+beating the leaves off. Branches were cracking
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>13]</a></span>
+and falling on all sides, and leaves were
+flying about, while the sound of shouting and
+laughing and screaming told all who heard it
+that the spiteful winter fairies were at some
+mischief. The other fairies followed, and
+gathered up the poor shattered leaves, cramming
+them into the great bags they had
+brought, and taking them to King Winter&rsquo;s
+palace as fast as they were filled.</p>
+
+<p>This work was kept up nearly all night and
+when morning came, the magic forest of
+many-colored leaves was changed into a dreary
+place. Bare trees stretched their long brown
+branches around and seemed to shiver in the
+cold wind and to sigh for the beautiful dress
+of shining leaves so rudely torn from them.</p>
+
+<p>King Winter was very much pleased, as one
+great sack after another was tugged in by the
+fairies and when morning came he called his
+servants together and said, &ldquo;You have all
+worked well, my fairies, and have saved much
+treasure from being wasted; I will now open
+these bags and show you the gold. Each of
+you shall have a share.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The king took up the sack nearest to him,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>14]</a></span>
+their surprise, when out rushed a great heap
+of brown leaves, which flew all over the floor
+and half choked them with dust! When the
+king saw this he growled with rage and
+looked at the fairies with a dark frown
+on his face. They begged him to look
+at the next sack, but when he did so, it,
+too, was full of brown leaves, instead of
+gold and precious stones. This was too much
+for King Winter&rsquo;s patience. He tossed
+the bags one by one out of the palace window,
+and would have tossed the unlucky
+fairies after them, had not some of the bravest
+ones knelt down and asked for mercy, telling
+him they had obeyed his orders, and, if King
+Frost had taken back his treasure, they were
+not to blame.</p>
+
+<p>This turned their master&rsquo;s anger against
+King Frost, and very angry and fierce he was.
+He gnashed his great teeth with rage and
+rushed up and down in his palace, until it
+shook again. At last he made up his mind to
+go out that night, break down King Frost&rsquo;s
+beautiful palace, and take away all his
+riches.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>15]</a></span>
+When night came, he started out with all his
+fairies. Some were armed with the clubs they
+had beaten off the leaves with, and others had
+lumps of ice to throw at their enemy; but the
+king had been so angry all day that he had not
+told them what to do; also, he had left their
+sharp spears locked up. He wrapped himself
+in his great white cloak of swan&rsquo;s down in
+order that he might look very grand, and so
+they went on their way.</p>
+
+<p>King Frost lived on the other side of the
+wood, and he had heard all the noise made by
+the winter fairies in spoiling the trees and had
+seen the next morning the mischief they had
+done. It made him very sorry to find the beautiful
+leaves all knocked off and taken away,
+and he determined to punish King Winter by
+going to attack <em>his</em> palace that night. He
+spent the day making ready and dressing himself
+and his servants in shining coats of ice-armour
+and giving each one several spears and
+darts of ice tipped with sharp diamond points.
+They looked like brave little soldiers.</p>
+
+<p>The two groups of fairies met in the midst
+of the great wood. After some words between
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>16]</a></span>
+the kings, their servants fell to blows and a
+great battle they had. The winter fairies
+fought with their clubs and threw lumps of ice
+at the frost fairies; but their clubs were weak
+from being used so roughly the night before
+and soon broke; and when their ice-balls were
+all thrown away they could find no more. But
+King Frost had armed his servants well, and
+they threw their icy darts among the winter
+fairies. The trees, too, seemed to fight on the
+Frost King&rsquo;s side. The bare twigs pulled their
+hair and the branches ripped their ice clothes
+wherever they could. So the winter fairies
+had the worst of it and at last started off at full
+speed and rushed through the woods, never
+stopping till they reached the palace, and
+shut themselves in&mdash;leaving their king, who
+was too proud to run, all alone with King
+Frost and his fairies. You may be sure they
+were not very merciful to him. They began
+to pull his cloak, calling out, &ldquo;Give us your
+cloak to keep our trees warm. You stole their
+pretty leaves; you must give us your cloak.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now this was a magic cloak and had been
+given to King Winter by the Queen of the
+fairies, so when he felt them pulling at it, he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>17]</a></span>
+wrapped it tightly about him, and began to
+run. After him flew the frost fairies, pulling
+and plucking at his great white cloak, snatching
+out a bit here and a bit there and laughing
+and shouting while King Winter howled and
+roared and rushed along, not knowing where
+he went. On they flew up and down the wood
+in and out among the trees,&mdash;their way marked
+by the scattered bits of white down from King
+Winter&rsquo;s cloak. When day began King Winter
+found himself near his own palace. He
+dashed his tattered cloak to the ground and
+rushed through the gate, shaking his fist at
+King Frost.</p>
+
+<p>He and his fairies took the cloak. As they
+went home through the woods they hung beautiful
+wreaths of white down on all the trees
+and also trimmed the branches with their
+broken spears and darts, which shone like silver
+in the sunlight, and made the woods look
+as bright almost, as before it had been robbed
+of its golden and ruby leaves. Even the
+ground was covered with shining darts and
+white feathers. Every one thought it very
+beautiful, and no one could tell how it happened.
+(<i>Adapted.</i>)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>18]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap05" id="bk1chap05"></a>THE SNOWSTORM</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Arrives the snow, and, driving o&rsquo;er the fields,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hides hills and woods, and river, and the heaven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And veils the farmhouse at the garden&rsquo;s end,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sled and traveler stopped, the courier&rsquo;s feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a tumultuous privacy of storm.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come, see the north wind&rsquo;s masonry.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Out of an unseen quarry evermore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curves his white bastions with projected roof<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>19]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For number or proportion. Mockingly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A swanlike form invests the hidden thorn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fills up the farmer&rsquo;s lane from wall to wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mauger the farmer&rsquo;s sighs; and at the gate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A tapering turret overtops the work.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when his hours are numbered, and the world<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Built in an age, the mad wind&rsquo;s night work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The frolic architecture of the snow.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Ralph Waldo Emerson.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>20]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap06" id="bk1chap06"></a>THE FIRST WINTER</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Iroquois Legend)</p>
+
+
+<p>There was a time when the days were always
+of the same length, and it was always summer.
+The red men lived continually in the smile of
+the Great Spirit and were happy. But there
+arose a chief who was so powerful that he at
+last declared himself mightier than the Great
+Spirit, and taught his brothers to go forth to
+the plain and mock him. They would call
+upon the Great Spirit to come and fight with
+them or would challenge him to take away the
+crop of growing corn or drive the game from
+the woods. They would say he was an unkind
+father to keep himself and their dead brothers
+in the Happy Hunting Grounds, where the
+red men could hunt forever without weariness.</p>
+
+<p>They laughed at their old men who had
+feared for so many moons to reproach the
+Great Spirit for his unfair treatment of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>21]</a></span>
+Indians who were compelled to hunt and fish
+for game for their wives and children, while
+their own women had to plant the corn and
+harvest it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the Happy Hunting Grounds,&rdquo; they
+said, &ldquo;the Great Spirit feeds our brothers and
+their wives and does not let any foes or dangers
+come upon them, but here he lets us go hungry
+many times. If he is as great as you have
+said, why does he not take care of his children
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the Great Spirit told them he would
+turn his smiling face away from them, so that
+they should have no more light and warmth
+and they must build fires in the forest if they
+would see.</p>
+
+<p>But the red men laughed and taunted him,
+telling him that he had followed one trail so
+long that he could not get out of it, but would
+have to come every day and give them light
+and heat as usual. Then they would dance
+and make faces at him and taunt him with his
+helplessness.</p>
+
+<p>In a few days the quick eyes of some of the
+red men saw in the morning the face of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>22]</a></span>
+Great Spirit appear where it was not wont to
+appear, but they were silent, fearing the jibes
+of their brothers. Finally, duller eyes noticed
+the change, and alarm and consternation
+spread among the people. Each day brought
+less and less of the Great Spirit&rsquo;s smile and his
+countenance was often hidden by dark clouds,
+while terrible storms beat upon the frightened
+faces turned in appeal toward the heavens.
+The strong braves and warriors became as
+women; the old men covered their heads with
+skins and starved in the forests; while the
+women in their lodges crooned the low,
+mournful wail of the death song. Frosts and
+snows came upon an unsheltered and stricken
+race, and many of them perished.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Great Spirit, who had almost removed
+his face from the sight of men, had pity
+and told them he would come back. Day after
+day the few that remained alive watched with
+joy the return of the sun. They sang in praise
+of the approaching summer and once more
+hailed with thankfulness the first blades of
+growing corn as it burst from the ground.
+The Great Spirit told his children that every
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>23]</a></span>
+year, as a punishment for the insults they had
+given their Father, they should feel for a season
+the might of the power they had mocked;
+and they murmured not, but bowed their heads
+in meekness.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>24]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap07" id="bk1chap07"></a>SNOW SONG</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Over valley, over hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hark, the shepherd piping shrill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Driving all the white flock forth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the far folds of the north.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blow, wind, blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weird melodies you play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Following your flocks that go<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Across the world today.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hither, thither, up and down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Every highway of the town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Huddling close the white flocks all<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gather at the shepherd&rsquo;s call.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blow, wind, blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon your pipes of joy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All your sheep the flakes of snow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And you their shepherd boy.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Frank Dempster Sherman.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>25]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap08" id="bk1chap08"></a>THE SNOW MAIDEN</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Russian Legend)</p>
+
+
+<p>Once upon a time there lived a peasant
+named Ivan and his wife, Marie. They were
+very sad because they had no children. One
+cold winter day the peasant and his wife sat
+near a window in their cottage and watched
+the village children playing in the snow. The
+little ones were busily at work making a beautiful
+snow maiden.</p>
+
+<p>Ivan turned to his wife and said, &ldquo;What a
+good time the children are having. See, they
+are making a beautiful snow maiden. Come,
+let us go into the garden and amuse ourselves
+in the same way. We will make a pretty little
+snow image.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They went into the garden which lay back
+of their cottage.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My husband,&rdquo; said Marie, &ldquo;we have no
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>26]</a></span>
+children, what do you say to our making for
+ourselves a child of snow?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A very good idea!&rdquo; said the husband. And
+he at once began to mold the form of a little
+body, with tiny feet and hands. His wife
+made a small head and set it upon the shoulders
+of the snow image.</p>
+
+<p>A man who passed by the garden stopped
+for a moment and looked at the peasants who
+were so strangely occupied. After a moment&rsquo;s
+silence he said to them, &ldquo;May God help you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said Ivan.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;God&rsquo;s blessing, indeed, is always good,&rdquo;
+nodded Marie.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you making?&rdquo; asked the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>Ivan looked up and said, &ldquo;We are making a
+little snow maiden.&rdquo; Then he went on with
+his work, forming the nose, chin, and eyes.</p>
+
+<p>In a few moments the snow child was finished,
+and Ivan looked at her in great admiration.
+Suddenly, he noticed that the mouth and
+eyes opened, the cheeks and lips took on a rosy
+hue, and in a few moments the astonished
+peasant saw standing before him a living
+child.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>27]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; he asked, filled with wonder
+at seeing a little girl instead of a snow
+image.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am Snow White, your little daughter,&rdquo;
+said the child. Then she threw her arms lovingly
+around the man and his wife, who both
+began to cry for joy.</p>
+
+<p>The delighted parents took Snow White
+into the cottage, and before long the news ran
+through the village that a little daughter had
+come to live with Ivan and Marie.</p>
+
+<p>Of course the village children came to play
+with Snow White. She was such a charming
+little girl, with a very white skin, eyes as blue
+as the sky, and lovely golden hair. To be sure,
+her cheeks were not so rosy as those of her
+companions, but she was so bright and gentle
+that everyone loved her very much indeed.</p>
+
+<p>The winter passed very quickly and Snow
+White grew so fast that by the time the trees
+were veiled in the green buds of spring she
+was as tall as a girl of twelve or thirteen years.</p>
+
+<p>During the winter months the snow maiden
+had been very joyous and happy, but when
+the mild, warm days of spring came she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>28]</a></span>
+seemed sad and low-spirited. Her mother,
+Marie, noticed the change and said to her,
+&ldquo;My dear little girl, why are you sad? Tell
+me, are you ill?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, mother, dear, I am not ill,&rdquo; said Snow
+White. But she no longer seemed to enjoy
+playing out of doors with the other children;
+she stayed very quietly in the cottage.</p>
+
+<p>One lovely spring day the village children
+came to the cottage and called out, &ldquo;Come,
+Snow White! Come! We are going into the
+woods to gather wild flowers. Come with us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, do go, my dear!&rdquo; said mother Marie.
+&ldquo;Go with your little friends and gather spring
+flowers. I&rsquo;m sure you&rsquo;ll enjoy the outing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Away went the happy children to the woods.
+They gathered the lovely wild flowers and
+made them into bouquets and coronets, and
+when the afternoon sun began to sink in the
+western sky they built a big bonfire. Gayly
+they sang little songs, merrily dancing around
+the bright, crackling blaze.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let each one dance alone,&rdquo; called out one
+of the little girls.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Snow White, watch us for a little while,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>29]</a></span>
+and then you, too, will know how to dance
+alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Away whirled the happy little children,
+dancing freely round and round the bonfire.
+In a little while Snow White joined them.</p>
+
+<p>When the gay little people were out of
+breath and the dancing grew slower and
+slower, some one called out, &ldquo;Where is Snow
+White?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Snow White, where are you?&rdquo; shouted the
+other children, but nowhere could they find
+their little companion.</p>
+
+<p>They ran home and told Ivan and Marie
+that Snow White had disappeared while
+dancing round the bonfire. The villagers
+made a thorough search for the little maiden,
+but they never found her, for while she was
+dancing around the bonfire she had slowly
+changed into a little white vapour and had
+flown away toward the sky, where she changed
+into a delicate snowflake.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>30]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap09" id="bk1chap09"></a>THE FROST KING</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oho! have you seen the Frost King,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A-marching up the hill?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hoary face is stern and pale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His touch is icy chill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He sends the birdlings to the South,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He bids the brooks be still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet not in wrath or cruelty<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He marches up the hill.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He will often rest at noontime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To see the sunbeams play;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And flash his spears of icicles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or let them melt away.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He&rsquo;ll toss the snowflakes in the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor let them go nor stay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then hold his breath while swift they fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That coasting boys may play.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>31]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">He&rsquo;ll touch the brooks and rivers wide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That skating crowds may shout;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He&rsquo;ll make the people far and near<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Remember he&rsquo;s about.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He&rsquo;ll send his nimble, frosty Jack&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Without a shade of doubt&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To do all kinds of merry pranks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And call the children out;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He&rsquo;ll sit upon the whitened fields,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And reach his icy hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O&rsquo;er houses where the sudden cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Folks cannot understand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The very moon, that ventures forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From clouds so soft and grand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will stare to see the stiffened look<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That settles o&rsquo;er the land.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And so the Frost King o&rsquo;er the hills,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And o&rsquo;er the startled plain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will come and go from year to year<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till Earth grows young again&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till Time himself shall cease to be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till gone are hill and plain:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whenever Winter comes to stay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The hoary King shall reign.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Mary Mapes Dodge.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>32]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap10" id="bk1chap10"></a>KING WINTER&rsquo;S HARVEST</h3>
+
+
+<p>King Winter sat upon his iceberg throne,
+and waving his scepter, a huge icicle, called
+for all the Snow Fairies and Frost Fairies to
+draw near, as he wished to see them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me, Snow Fairies,&rdquo; said King Winter,
+&ldquo;what have you been doing of late; have
+you made anybody happy by your work?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; they all said at once, &ldquo;we had
+the jolliest time last night putting white
+dresses on the trees, white spreads over the
+grasses, white caps on all the fence posts, and
+making things look so strange that when the
+children came out in the morning they just
+shouted and laughed, and soon threw so much
+snow over each other that they were dressed in
+white, too, and seemed Snow Fairies like ourselves.
+They, too, wanted to make curious
+canes, castles, and other things with the snow
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>33]</a></span>
+as we had done. Sleds were brought out and
+when the sleighbells commenced their music
+it seemed that everybody was made glad by
+our work.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well done,&rdquo; said King Winter, &ldquo;now away
+to your work again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In a twinkling the Snow Fairies were up in
+a purple cloud-boat throwing a shower of
+snowflake kisses down to King Winter to thank
+him for giving them work to do.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Frost Fairies,&rdquo; said King Winter,
+turning to a glittering band who wore some
+of his own jewels, &ldquo;what have you done to
+make anybody glad?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We have made pictures upon the windows
+and hung your jewels upon the trees for the
+people to look at, and covered the skating
+ponds,&rdquo; said Jack Frost, the leader.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is good,&rdquo; said King Winter. &ldquo;You
+and the Snow Fairies seem to be making the
+world glad now, but pretty soon we must leave
+the work, and the good sunbeams will put our
+things away; they will hide the snowballs, and
+crack the skating ponds so that the ice may
+float downstream. Now I would like to make
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>34]</a></span>
+something that will keep long after we are
+gone away. Queen Summer is gone but her
+harvest of hay and grain is in the barns.
+Queen Autumn is gone but her harvest of
+apples and potatoes is in the cellars; now I
+want to leave a harvest, too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But the sunbeams are away most of the
+time now,&rdquo; said Jack Frost. &ldquo;Can anything
+grow without them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My harvest will grow best without them,&rdquo;
+said King Winter, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;ll just hang up a
+thick cloud curtain and ask them to play upon
+the other side while my harvest grows. Mr.
+North Wind will help, and if all you Frost
+Fairies do your liveliest work my harvest will
+soon be ready.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>North Wind soon came with bags of cold
+air which he scattered hither and thither,
+while the Frost Fairies carried it into every
+track and corner, wondering all the while
+what the harvest would be. But after two
+days&rsquo; work they found out; for horses were
+hitched to sleds and men started for the lakes
+and rivers, saying, &ldquo;The ice has frozen so
+thick that it is a fine time to fill the ice-houses.&rdquo;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>35]</a></span>
+Saws and poles were carried along, and soon
+huge blocks of ice were finding places upon
+the sleds ready for a ride to some ice-house
+where they would be packed so securely in
+sawdust that King Winter&rsquo;s harvest would
+keep through the very hottest weather.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then the ice-men can play that they are
+we,&rdquo; said a Frost Fairy, &ldquo;scattering cold all
+about to make people glad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>36]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap11" id="bk1chap11"></a>OLD KING WINTER</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Old King Winter&rsquo;s on his throne<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In robes of ermine white;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The crown of jewels on his head<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Now glitters bright with light.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The little flakes of snow and hail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And tiny pearls of sleet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are with the wild winds dancing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All round his magic feet.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His beard is white, his cheeks are red,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His heart is filled with cheer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His season&rsquo;s best some people say;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The <em>best</em> of all the year.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Anna E. Skinner.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>37]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap12" id="bk1chap12"></a>SHELTERING WINGS</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Harriet Louise Jerome</p>
+
+
+<p>It was intensely cold. Heavy sleds creaked
+as they scraped over the jeweled sounding
+board of dry, unyielding snow; the signs above
+shop doors shrieked and groaned as they
+swung helplessly to and fro; and the clear,
+keen air seemed frozen into sharp little crystalline
+needles that stabbed every living thing
+that must be out in it. The streets were almost
+forsaken in mid-afternoon. Business men hurried
+from shelter to shelter; every dog remained
+at home; not a bird was to be seen or
+heard. The sparrows had been forced to hide
+themselves in crevices and holes; the doves
+found protected corners and huddled together
+as best they could; many birds were frozen to
+death.</p>
+
+<p>A dozen or more doves were gathered close
+under the cornice of the piazza of a certain
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>38]</a></span>
+house, trying with little success to keep warm.
+Some small sparrows, disturbed and driven
+from the cozy place they had chosen, saw the
+doves and came flying across the piazza.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear doves,&rdquo; chirped the sparrows, &ldquo;won&rsquo;t
+you let us nestle near you? Your bodies look
+so large and warm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But your coats are frosted with cold. We
+cannot let you come near us, for we are almost
+frozen now,&rdquo; murmured the doves sadly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But we are perishing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So are we.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It looks so warm near your broad wings,
+gentle doves. Oh, let us come! We are so
+little, and so very, very cold!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; cooed a dove at last, and a trembling
+little sparrow fluttered close and nestled
+under the broad white wing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; cooed another dove, and another
+little sparrow found comfort.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come! Come!&rdquo; echoed another warm-hearted
+bird, and another, until at last more
+than half the doves were sheltering small,
+shivering sparrows beneath their own half-frozen
+wings.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>39]</a></span>
+&ldquo;My sisters, you are very foolish,&rdquo; said the
+other doves. &ldquo;You mean well, but why do you
+risk your own beautiful lives to give life to
+worthless sparrows?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! they were so small, and so very, very
+cold,&rdquo; murmured the doves. &ldquo;Many of us
+will perish this cruel night; while we have life
+let us share its meager warmth with those in
+bitter need.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Colder and colder grew the day. The sun
+went down behind the clouds suffused with
+soft and radiant beauty, but more fiercely and
+relentlessly swept the wind around the house
+where the doves and sparrows waited for
+death.</p>
+
+<p>An hour after sunset a man came up to the
+house and strode across the piazza. As the
+door of the house closed heavily behind him, a
+little child watching from the window saw
+something jarred from the cornice fall heavily
+to the piazza floor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, papa,&rdquo; she cried in surprise, &ldquo;a poor
+frozen dove has fallen on our porch!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When he stepped out to pick up the fallen
+dove the father saw the others under the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>40]</a></span>
+cornice. They were no longer able to move or
+to utter a cry, so he brought them in and
+placed them in a room where they might
+slowly revive. Soon more than half of the
+doves could coo gratefully, and raise their stiffened
+wings. Then out from beneath the wing
+of each revived dove fluttered a living sparrow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look, papa!&rdquo; cried the child. &ldquo;Each dove
+that has come to life was holding a poor little
+sparrow close to her heart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They gently raised the wings of the doves
+that could not be revived. Not one had a sparrow
+beneath it.</p>
+
+<p>Colder and fiercer swept the wind without,
+cutting and more piercing grew the frozen,
+crystalline needles of air, but each dove that
+had sheltered a frost-coated sparrow beneath
+her own shivering wings lived to rejoice in the
+glowing gladsome sunshine of the days to
+come.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>41]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap13" id="bk1chap13"></a>SNOWFLAKES</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Out of the Bosom of the Air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the woodlands brown and bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Over the harvest-fields forsaken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Silent, and soft, and slow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Descends the snow.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>42]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk1chap14" id="bk1chap14"></a>THE SNOW-IMAGE</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Nathaniel Hawthorne</p>
+
+
+<p>One afternoon of a cold winter&rsquo;s day, when
+the sun shone forth with chilly brightness,
+after a long storm, two children asked leave
+of their mother to run out and play in the new-fallen
+snow.</p>
+
+<p>The elder child was a little girl, whom, because
+she was of a tender and modest disposition,
+and was thought to be very beautiful,
+her parents, and other people who were familiar
+with her, used to call Violet.</p>
+
+<p>But her brother was known by the title of
+Peony, on account of the ruddiness of his
+broad and round little phiz, which made
+everybody think of sunshine and great scarlet
+flowers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Violet&mdash;yes, my little Peony,&rdquo; said
+their kind mother; &ldquo;you may go out and play
+in the new snow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Forth sallied the two children, with a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>43]</a></span>
+hop-skip-and-jump, that carried them at once into
+the very heart of a huge snow-drift, whence
+Violet emerged like a snow bunting, while
+little Peony floundered out with his round face
+in full bloom.</p>
+
+<p>Then what a merry time they had! To
+look at them, frolicking in the wintry garden,
+you would have thought that the dark and
+pitiless storm had been sent for no other purpose
+but to provide a new plaything for Violet
+and Peony; and that they themselves had been
+created, as the snowbirds were, to take delight
+only in the tempest and in the white mantle
+which it spread over the earth.</p>
+
+<p>At last, when they had frosted one another
+all over with handfuls of snow, Violet, after
+laughing heartily at little Peony&rsquo;s figure, was
+struck with a new idea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You look exactly like a snow-image,
+Peony,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;if your cheeks were not so
+red. And that puts me in mind! Let us make
+an image out of snow&mdash;an image of a little
+girl&mdash;and it shall be our sister, and shall run
+about and play with us all winter long. Won&rsquo;t
+it be nice?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>44]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes!&rdquo; cried Peony, as plainly as he
+could speak, for he was but a little boy. &ldquo;That
+will be nice! And mamma shall see it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Violet; &ldquo;mamma shall see
+the new little girl. But she must not make
+her come into the warm parlour, for, you
+know, our little snow-sister will not love the
+warmth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And forthwith the children began this great
+business of making a snow-image that should
+run about; while their mother, who was knitting
+at the window and overheard some of
+their talk, could not help smiling at the gravity
+with which they set about it. They really
+seemed to imagine that there would be no difficulty
+whatever in creating a live little girl
+out of the snow.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, it was an exceedingly pleasant sight&mdash;those
+bright little souls at their task!
+Moreover, it was really wonderful to observe
+how knowingly and skillfully they managed
+the matter. Violet assumed the chief direction,
+and told Peony what to do, while, with
+her own delicate fingers, she shaped out all
+the nicer parts of the snow-figure.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>45]</a></span>
+It seemed, in fact, not so much to be made
+by the children, as to grow up under their
+hands, while they were playing and prattling
+about it. Their mother was quite surprised at
+this, and the longer she looked, the more and
+more surprised she grew.</p>
+
+<p>Now, for a few moments, there was a busy
+and earnest but indistinct hum of the two
+children&rsquo;s voices, as Violet and Peony
+wrought together with one happy consent.
+Violet still seemed to be the guiding spirit,
+while Peony acted rather as a labourer and
+brought her the snow from far and near. And
+yet the little urchin evidently had a proper
+understanding of the matter, too.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Peony, Peony!&rdquo; cried Violet; for her
+brother was at the other side of the garden.
+&ldquo;Bring me those light wreaths of snow that
+have rested on the lower branches of the pear-tree.
+You can clamber on the snow-drift,
+Peony, and reach them easily. I must have
+them to make some ringlets for our snow-sister&rsquo;s
+head!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here they are, Violet!&rdquo; answered the
+little boy. &ldquo;Take care you do not break
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>46]</a></span>
+them. Well done! Well done! How pretty!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does she not look sweet?&rdquo; said Violet, with
+a very satisfied tone; &ldquo;and now we must have
+some little shining bits of ice to make the
+brightness of her eyes. She is not finished yet.
+Mamma will see how very beautiful she is;
+but papa will say, &lsquo;Tush! nonsense! come in
+out of the cold!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us call mamma to look out,&rdquo; said
+Peony; and then he shouted, &ldquo;Mamma!
+mamma!! mamma!!! Look out and see what
+a nice &rsquo;ittle girl we are making!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a nice playmate she will be for us
+all winter long!&rdquo; said Violet. &ldquo;I hope papa
+will not be afraid of her giving us a cold!
+Sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t you love her dearly, Peony?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes!&rdquo; cried Peony. &ldquo;And I will hug
+her and she shall sit down close by me and
+drink some of my warm milk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no, Peony!&rdquo; answered Violet, with
+grave wisdom. &ldquo;That will not do at all.
+Warm milk will not be wholesome for our
+little snow-sister. Little snow-people like her
+eat nothing but icicles. No, no, Peony; we
+must not give her anything warm to drink!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>47]</a></span>
+There was a minute or two of silence; for
+Peony, whose short legs were never weary,
+had gone again to the other side of the garden.
+All of a sudden, Violet cried out, loudly and
+joyfully, &ldquo;Look here, Peony! Come quickly!
+A light has been shining on her cheek out of
+that rose-coloured cloud! And the colour does
+not go away! Is not that beautiful?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it is beau-ti-ful,&rdquo; answered Peony,
+pronouncing the three syllables with deliberate
+accuracy. &ldquo;O Violet, only look at her
+hair! It is all like gold!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, certainly,&rdquo; said Violet, as if it were
+very much a matter of course. &ldquo;That colour,
+you know, comes from the golden clouds that
+we see up there in the sky. She is almost
+finished now. But her lips must be made very
+red, redder than her cheeks. Perhaps, Peony,
+it will make them red if we both kiss them!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, the mother heard two smart
+little smacks, as if both her children were
+kissing the snow-image on its frozen mouth.
+But, as this did not seem to make the lips quite
+red enough, Violet next proposed that the
+snow-child should be invited to kiss Peony&rsquo;s
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>48]</a></span>
+scarlet cheek. &ldquo;Come, &rsquo;ittle snow-sister, kiss
+me!&rdquo; cried Peony.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There! she has kissed you,&rdquo; added Violet,
+&ldquo;and now her lips are very red. And she
+blushed a little, too!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, what a cold kiss!&rdquo; cried Peony.</p>
+
+<p>Just then, there came a breeze of the pure
+west wind sweeping through the garden and
+rattling the parlour-windows. It sounded so
+wintry cold, that the mother was about to tap
+on the window-pane with her thimbled finger,
+to summon the two children in, when they
+both cried out to her with one voice:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mamma! mamma! We have finished our
+little snow-sister, and she is running about the
+garden with us!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What imaginative little beings my children
+are!&rdquo; thought the mother, putting the last few
+stitches into Peony&rsquo;s frock. &ldquo;And it is strange,
+too, that they make me almost as much a child
+as they themselves are! I can hardly help
+believing now that the snow-image has really
+come to life!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear mamma!&rdquo; cried Violet, &ldquo;pray look
+out and see what a sweet playmate we have!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>49]</a></span>
+The mother, being thus entreated, could no
+longer delay to look forth from the window.
+The sun was now gone out of the sky, leaving,
+however, a rich inheritance of his brightness
+among those purple and golden clouds
+which make the sunsets of winter so magnificent.</p>
+
+<p>But there was not the slightest gleam or
+dazzle, either on the window or on the snow;
+so that the good lady could look all over the
+garden, and see everything and everybody in
+it. And what do you think she saw there?
+Violet and Peony, of course, her own two
+darling children.</p>
+
+<p>Ah, but whom or what did she see besides?
+Why, if you will believe me, there was a small
+figure of a girl, dressed all in white, with rose-tinged
+cheeks and ringlets of golden hue, playing
+about the garden with the two children!</p>
+
+<p>A stranger though she was, the child seemed
+to be on as familiar terms with Violet and
+Peony, and they with her, as if all the three
+had been playmates during the whole of their
+little lives. The mother thought to herself
+that it must certainly be the daughter of one
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>50]</a></span>
+of the neighbours, and that, seeing Violet and
+Peony in the garden, the child had run across
+the street to play with them.</p>
+
+<p>So this kind lady went to the door, intending
+to invite the little runaway into her comfortable
+parlour; for, now that the sunshine
+was withdrawn, the atmosphere out of doors
+was already growing very cold.</p>
+
+<p>But, after opening the house-door, she
+stood an instant on the threshold, hesitating
+whether she ought to ask the child to come in,
+or whether she should even speak to her. Indeed,
+she almost doubted whether it were a
+real child, after all, or only a light wreath of
+the new-fallen snow, blown hither and thither
+about the garden by the intensely cold west
+wind.</p>
+
+<p>There was certainly something very singular
+in the aspect of the little stranger.
+Among all the children of the neighbourhood
+the lady could remember no such face, with
+its pure white and delicate rose-colour, and the
+golden ringlets tossing about the forehead and
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>And as for her dress, which was entirely of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>51]</a></span>
+white, and fluttering in the breeze, it was
+such as no reasonable woman would put upon
+a little girl when sending her out to play in
+the depth of winter. It made this kind and
+careful mother shiver only to look at those
+small feet, with nothing in the world on them
+except a very thin pair of white slippers.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, airily as she was clad, the
+child seemed to feel not the slightest inconvenience
+from the cold, but danced so lightly
+over the snow that the tips of her toes left
+hardly a print in its surface; while Violet
+could but just keep pace with her, and
+Peony&rsquo;s short legs compelled him to lag behind.</p>
+
+<p>All this while, the mother stood on the
+threshold, wondering how a little girl could
+look so much like a flying snow-drift, or how
+a snow-drift could look so very like a little
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>She called Violet and whispered to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Violet, my darling, what is this child&rsquo;s
+name?&rdquo; asked she. &ldquo;Does she live near us?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, dearest mamma,&rdquo; answered Violet,
+laughing to think that her mother did not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>52]</a></span>
+comprehend so very plain an affair, &ldquo;this is
+our little snow-sister whom we have just been
+making!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, dear mamma,&rdquo; cried Peony, running
+to his mother, and looking up simply into her
+face. &ldquo;This is our snow-image! Is it not a
+nice &rsquo;ittle child?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Violet,&rdquo; said her mother, greatly perplexed,
+&ldquo;tell me the truth, without any jest.
+Who is this little girl?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My darling mamma,&rdquo; answered Violet,
+looking seriously into her mother&rsquo;s face, surprised
+that she should need any further explanation,
+&ldquo;I have told you truly who she is.
+It is our little snow-image which Peony and I
+have been making. Peony will tell you so, as
+well as I.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mamma,&rdquo; declared Peony, with much
+gravity in his crimson little phiz, &ldquo;this is &rsquo;ittle
+snow-child. Is not she a nice one? But,
+mamma, her hand is, oh, so very cold!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>While mamma still hesitated what to think
+and what to do, the street-gate was thrown
+open, and the father of Violet and Peony appeared,
+wrapped in a pilot-cloth sack, with a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>53]</a></span>
+fur cap drawn down over his ears, and the
+thickest of gloves upon his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Lindsey was a middle-aged man, with
+a weary and yet a happy look in his wind-flushed
+and frost-pinched face, as if he had
+been busy all day long, and was glad to get
+back to his quiet home. His eyes brightened
+at the sight of his wife and children, although
+he could not help uttering a word or two of
+surprise at finding the whole family in the
+open air, on so bleak a day, and after sunset,
+too.</p>
+
+<p>He soon perceived the little white stranger,
+sporting to and fro in the garden, like a dancing
+snow-wreath and the flock of snowbirds
+fluttering about her head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray, what little girl may this be?&rdquo; inquired
+this very sensible man. &ldquo;Surely her
+mother must be crazy, to let her go out in such
+bitter weather as it has been today, with only
+that flimsy white gown and those thin slippers!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear husband,&rdquo; said his wife, &ldquo;I know
+no more about the little thing than you do.
+Some neighbour&rsquo;s child, I suppose. Our Violet
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>54]</a></span>
+and Peony,&rdquo; she added, laughing at herself
+for repeating so absurd a story, &ldquo;insist that
+she is nothing but a snow-image which they
+have been busy about in the garden, almost all
+the afternoon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As she said this, the mother glanced her
+eyes toward the spot where the children&rsquo;s
+snow-image had been made. What was her
+surprise on perceiving that there was not the
+slightest trace of so much labour!&mdash;no image
+at all!&mdash;no piled-up heap of snow!&mdash;nothing
+whatever, save the prints of little footsteps
+around a vacant space!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is very strange!&rdquo; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is strange, dear mother?&rdquo; asked
+Violet. &ldquo;Dear father, do not you see how it
+is? This is our snow-image, which Peony and
+I have made, because we wanted another playmate.
+Did not we, Peony?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, papa,&rdquo; said crimson Peony. &ldquo;This is
+our &rsquo;ittle snow-sister. Is she not beau-ti-ful?
+But she gave me such a cold kiss!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pooh, nonsense, children!&rdquo; cried their good
+honest father, who had a plain, sensible way
+of looking at matters. &ldquo;Do not tell me of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>55]</a></span>
+making live figures out of snow. Come, wife;
+this little stranger must not stay out in the
+bleak air a moment longer. We will bring her
+into the parlour; and you shall give her a
+supper of warm bread and milk, and make her
+as comfortable as you can.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, this honest and very kind-hearted
+man was going toward the little damsel, with
+the best intentions in the world. But Violet
+and Peony, each seizing their father by the
+hand, earnestly besought him not to make her
+come in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nonsense, children, nonsense, nonsense!&rdquo;
+cried the father, half-vexed, half-laughing.
+&ldquo;Run into the house, this moment! It is too
+late to play any longer now. I must take care
+of this little girl immediately, or she will catch
+her death of cold.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And so, with a most benevolent smile, this
+very well-meaning gentleman took the snow-child
+by the hand and led her toward the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>She followed him, droopingly and reluctant,
+for all the glow and sparkle were gone out
+of her figure; and, whereas just before she had
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>56]</a></span>
+resembled a bright, frosty, star-gemmed evening,
+with a crimson gleam on the cold horizon,
+she now looked as dull and languid as a
+thaw.</p>
+
+<p>As kind Mr. Lindsey led her up the steps of
+the door, Violet and Peony looked into his
+face, their eyes full of tears which froze before
+they could run down their cheeks, and
+again entreated him not to bring their snow-image
+into the house.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not bring her in!&rdquo; exclaimed the kind-hearted
+man. &ldquo;Why, you are crazy, my
+little Violet!&mdash;quite crazy, my small Peony!
+She is so cold already that her hand has
+almost frozen mine, in spite of my thick
+gloves. Would you have her freeze to
+death?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His wife, as he came up the steps, had been
+taking another long, earnest gaze at the little
+white stranger. She hardly knew whether it
+was a dream or no; but she could not help
+fancying that she saw the delicate print of
+Violet&rsquo;s fingers on the child&rsquo;s neck. It looked
+just as if, while Violet was shaping out the
+image, she had given it a gentle pat with her
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>57]</a></span>
+hand, and had neglected to smooth the impression
+quite away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;After all, husband,&rdquo; said the mother, &ldquo;after
+all, she does look strangely like a snow-image!
+I do believe she is made of snow!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A puff of the west wind blew against the
+snow-child, and again she sparkled like a
+star.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Snow!&rdquo; repeated good Mr. Lindsey, drawing
+the reluctant guest over his hospitable
+threshold. &ldquo;No wonder she looks like snow.
+She is half frozen, poor little thing! But a
+good fire will put everything to rights.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This common-sensible man placed the snow-child
+on the hearth-rug, right in front of the
+hissing and fuming stove.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now she will be comfortable!&rdquo; cried Mr.
+Lindsey, rubbing his hands and looking about
+him, with the pleasantest smile you ever saw.
+&ldquo;Make yourself at home, my child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sad, sad and drooping, looked the little
+white maiden as she stood on the hearth-rug,
+with the hot blast of the stove striking through
+her like a pestilence. Once she threw a glance
+toward the window, and caught a glimpse,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>58]</a></span>
+through its red curtains, of the snow-covered
+roofs and the stars glimmering frostily, and all
+the delicious intensity of the cold night. The
+bleak wind rattled the window-panes as if it
+were summoning her to come forth. But
+there stood the snow-child, drooping, before
+the hot stove!</p>
+
+<p>But the common-sensible man saw nothing
+amiss.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, wife,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;let her have a pair
+of thick stockings and a woolen shawl or
+blanket directly; and tell Dora to give her
+some warm supper as soon as the milk boils.
+You, Violet and Peony, amuse your little
+friend. She is out of spirits, you see, at finding
+herself in a strange place. For my part, I
+will go around among the neighbours and find
+out where she belongs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The mother, meanwhile, had gone in search
+of the shawl and stockings. Without heeding
+the remonstrance of his two children, who
+still kept murmuring that their little snow-sister
+did not love the warmth, good Mr.
+Lindsey took his departure, shutting the parlour
+door carefully behind him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>59]</a></span>
+Turning up the collar of his sack over his
+ears, he emerged from the house, and had
+barely reached the street-gate, when he was
+recalled by the screams of Violet and Peony
+and the rapping of a thimbled finger against
+the parlour window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Husband! husband!&rdquo; cried his wife, showing
+her horror-stricken face through the
+window panes. &ldquo;There is no need of going
+for the child&rsquo;s parents!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We told you so, father!&rdquo; screamed Violet
+and Peony, as he re-entered the parlour. &ldquo;You
+would bring her in; and now our poor&mdash;dear&mdash;beau-ti-ful
+little snow-sister is thawed!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And their own sweet little faces were already
+dissolved in tears; so that their father,
+seeing what strange things occasionally happen
+in this every-day world, felt not a little anxious
+lest his children might be going to thaw too.
+In the utmost perplexity, he demanded an
+explanation of his wife. She could only reply
+that, being summoned to the parlour by cries
+of Violet and Peony, she found no trace of
+the little white maiden, unless it were the remains
+of a heap of snow, which, while she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>60]</a></span>
+was gazing at it, melted quite away upon the
+hearth-rug.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And there you see all that is left of it!&rdquo;
+added she, pointing to a pool of water, in front
+of the stove.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, father,&rdquo; said Violet, looking reproachfully
+at him through her tears, &ldquo;there
+is all that is left of our dear little snow-sister!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Naughty father!&rdquo; cried Peony, stamping
+his foot, and&mdash;I shudder to say&mdash;shaking his
+little fist at the common-sensible man. &ldquo;We
+told you how it would be! What for did you
+bring her in?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And the stove, through the isinglass of
+its door, seemed to glare at good Mr. Lindsey,
+like a red-eyed demon, triumphing in the mischief
+which it had done! (<i>Abridged.</i>)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"><!-- no visible page number --></a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="padtop"><a name="book2" id="book2"></a>WINTER WOODS</h2>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>62]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="padtop"><a name="bk2chap01" id="bk2chap01"></a>THE FIRST SNOW-FALL</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The snow had begun in the gloaming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And busily all the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had been heaping field and highway<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With a silence deep and white.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Every pine and fir and hemlock<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wore ermine too dear for an earl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the poorest twig on the elm tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was ridged inch deep with pearl.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">James Russell Lowell.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>63]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap02" id="bk2chap02"></a>THE VOICE OF THE PINE TREES</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Japanese Legend)</p>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;And all the while<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The voice of the breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As it blows through the firs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That grow old together<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will yield us delight.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>In ancient days there lived a fisherman and
+his wife, and little daughter Matsue. There
+was nothing that Matsue loved to do more than
+to sit under the great pine tree. She was particularly
+fond of the pine needles that never
+seemed tired of falling to the ground. With
+these she fashioned a beautiful dress and sash,
+saying, &ldquo;I will not wear these pine clothes
+until my wedding day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One day while Matsue was sitting under
+the pine tree, she sang the following song:</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>64]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;No one so callous but he heaves a sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When o&rsquo;er his head the withered cherry flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come fluttering down. Who knows?&mdash;the spring&rsquo;s soft showers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May be but tears shed by the sorrowing sky.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>While thus she sang Teogo stood on the
+steep shore of Sumiyoshi watching the flight
+of a heron. Up, up, it went into the blue sky,
+and Teogo saw it fly over the village where
+the fishfolk and their daughter lived.</p>
+
+<p>Now Teogo was a youth who dearly loved
+adventure and he thought it would be very delightful
+to swim across the sea and discover
+the land over which the heron had flown. So
+one morning he dived into the sea and swam
+so hard and so long that the poor fellow found
+the waves spinning and dancing and saw the
+great sky bend down and try to touch him.
+Then he lay unconscious on the water; but the
+waves were kind to him after all, for they
+pressed him on and on till he was washed up
+at the very place where Matsue sat under the
+pine tree.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>65]</a></span>
+Matsue carefully dragged Teogo underneath
+its sheltering branches, and then set him
+down upon a couch of pine needles, where he
+soon regained consciousness and warmly
+thanked Matsue for her kindness.</p>
+
+<p>Teogo did not go back to his own country,
+for, after a few happy months had gone by,
+he married Matsue and on her wedding morn
+she wore her dress and sash of pine needles.</p>
+
+<p>When Matsue&rsquo;s parents died her loss only
+seemed to make her love for Teogo the more.
+The older they grew the more they loved each
+other. Every night when the moon shone, they
+went hand in hand to the pine tree and with
+their little rake they made a couch for the
+morrow.</p>
+
+<p>One night the great silver face of the moon
+peered through the branches of the pine tree
+and looked in vain for the two sitting together
+on a couch of pine needles. Their little rakes
+lay side by side and still the moon waited for
+the slow steps of these pine tree lovers. But
+that night they did not come. They had gone
+home to an everlasting place on the River of
+Souls.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>66]</a></span>
+They had loved so well and so splendidly,
+in old age as well as in youth, that their souls
+were allowed to come back again and wander
+round the pine tree that had listened to their
+love for so many years.</p>
+
+<p>When the moon is full they whisper and
+laugh and sing and draw the pine needles together,
+while the sea sings softly upon the
+shore:</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;The dawn is near<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the hoar-frost falls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the fir tree twigs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But its leaves dark green<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suffer no change.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Morning and evening<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath its shade<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The leaves are swept away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet they never fail.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True it is<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That these fir trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shed not all their leaves;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their verdure remains fresh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For ages long,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the Masaka&rsquo;s trailing vine;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>67]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Even amongst evergreen trees&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The emblem of unchangeableness&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Exalted is their fame<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As a symbol to the end of time.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fame of the fir trees that<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have grown old together.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>68]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap03" id="bk2chap03"></a>THE PINE TREE MAIDEN</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Indian Legend)</p>
+
+
+<p>In an Indian village which stood near the
+Big Sea Water lived a beautiful little girl
+whose name was Leelinau. Her chief delight
+was to wander among the pine trees of a
+sacred grove which bordered the great waters.
+Here she passed many hours watching the
+sunlight dance on the stems of the tall trees
+and listening to the soft music of the wind as
+it came up from the sea and played in the
+forest.</p>
+
+<p>The child&rsquo;s desire to spend so much of her
+time alone in the grove made her little companions
+regard her with awe, and they sometimes
+whispered together about the meaning
+of her strange journeys to the deep woods.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Leelinau goes to the forest to play with
+the Puckwudjinies. She dances with the
+fairy folk and talks to them in their own
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>69]</a></span>
+language,&rdquo; said the Indian children when they
+saw the little girl&rsquo;s figure hurrying toward
+the grove of pine trees.</p>
+
+<p>Leelinau&rsquo;s parents took little notice of her
+strange attraction for the lonely forest. They
+thought it was a childish fancy which would
+vanish in a few years. But the little girl grew
+into a beautiful slender maiden and still she
+visited her retreat with increasing delight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When Leelinau goes to the forest the air is
+filled with the sweetest perfume and the trees
+nod their feathery plumes in welcome to her,&rdquo;
+whispered the youths and maidens of the village.
+&ldquo;Some say she calls the pine trees by
+name and they answer her in a strange language
+which she understands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>One day it happened that an Indian hunter,
+who was a mighty chief, passed through the
+sacred grove. There, leaning against her
+favourite tree, a stately pine, he saw Leelinau,
+a dark-haired maiden marvellously beautiful.
+In a few days the chief sought her parents
+and laid before them rich gifts, saying that he
+wished to make the forest maiden his bride.</p>
+
+<p>To the surprise of all the people in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>70]</a></span>
+village Leelinau took no joy in her approaching
+marriage to the great chief. To be sure,
+she made no complaint, for she was an obedient
+daughter. But each day, when she returned
+from her accustomed journey to the
+forest, she was sad and thoughtful. Sometimes
+she stood before her father&rsquo;s tepee and
+looked with wistful eyes toward her beloved
+grove.</p>
+
+<p>At last the day arrived on which the great
+chief would claim her for his bride. The forest
+maiden dressed herself in her beautiful
+wedding robe and took her usual walk into
+the forest. Her parents were not surprised
+that she should wish to take a farewell look
+at the grove where she had spent so many
+happy hours, and which she was about to
+leave, for the great chief lived many miles
+away.</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the forest she hastened
+to her beautiful pine tree. Clinging to the
+trunk she wept bitterly and whispered the
+story of her coming marriage to a war chief
+from whom her heart shrank in fear. When
+she had finished there was a soft rustling in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>71]</a></span>
+the branches overhead and a voice said:
+&ldquo;Leelinau! Leelinau! thou art my beloved!
+Wilt thou stay in the forest and be my bride?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And she answered, &ldquo;I will never leave my
+pine tree lover.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The sun stood high above the sacred grove
+and Leelinau had not returned to her father&rsquo;s
+lodge. Friends were sent to bring her to the
+village but they came back with the report
+that the maiden was not in the forest. The
+great chief and his warriors searched far and
+wide for the lost maiden. She had disappeared
+so completely that the keenest-eyed
+Indians could discover no trace of her. The
+chief departed without his bride and for a
+year no tidings of Leelinau came to the
+village.</p>
+
+<p>It happened one calm evening when the sun
+was sinking into the Big Sea Water, that an
+Indian youth in a birch bark canoe was swiftly
+skimming along toward the shore bordered by
+the sacred grove. There, standing near the
+deep forest, was a familiar figure. It was
+Leelinau, the lost maiden. In his surprise and
+joy the youth shouted to her and she waved
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>72]</a></span>
+her hand to him in recognition. Then he
+noticed that she was not alone. By her side
+stood a handsome brave with a green plume
+standing high on his head. With all his might
+the young Indian quickened the speed of his
+canoe and in a few moments he sprang ashore.
+But where were Leelinau and the young
+brave! They had disappeared and not a trace
+of them was to be found on the lonely shore
+or in the forest.</p>
+
+<p>The youth returned to the village and told
+his story. Reverently the people bowed their
+heads and whispered, &ldquo;Leelinau will never
+come back to us. She is the bride of her
+favourite pine tree.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>73]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap04" id="bk2chap04"></a>THE HOLLY</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Janet Harvey Kelman</p>
+
+
+<p>The Holly is our most important evergreen,
+and is so well known that it scarcely needs
+any description. It has flourished in this country
+as long as the Oak, and is often found growing
+under tall trees in the crowded forests, as
+well as in the open glades, where lawns of fine
+grass are to be found.</p>
+
+<p>People say that the Holly, or Holm tree,
+as it is often called, is the greenwood tree
+spoken of by Shakespeare, and that under its
+bushy shelter Robin Hood and his merry men
+held their meetings in the open glades of
+Sherwood Forest. Sometimes it is called the
+Holly tree, because from the oldest time of
+which we have any record its boughs have
+been used to deck our shrines and churches,
+and in some parts of England the country people
+in December speak of gathering Christmas,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>74]</a></span>
+which is the name they give to the Holly,
+or Holy tree. It is this evergreen which we
+oftenest use at Christmas-tide to decorate our
+churches, and very lovely the dark green
+sprays, with their coral berries, look when
+twined round the grey stone pillars.</p>
+
+<p>The Holly is looked upon as a second-rate
+forest tree. It is never very large, and it
+usually appears as a thick, tall bush, with
+many branches reaching almost to the ground.
+Sometimes you find it with a slender, bare
+trunk, clothed with pale grey bark, and if you
+look closely at this bark you will see that it is
+covered with curious black markings, as if
+some strange writing had been traced on it
+with a heavy black pen.</p>
+
+<p>This writing is the work of a tiny plant
+which makes its home on the Holly stem and
+spreads in this strange way.</p>
+
+<p>The bark of the young Holly shoots and
+boughs is pale green and quite smooth.</p>
+
+<p>The tree requires little sunshine, and it
+seems to keep all it gets as every leaf is highly
+polished and reflects the light like a mirror.
+These leaves grow closely on every branch;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>75]</a></span>
+they are placed alternately on each side of the
+twigs, and are oval, with the edges so much
+waved that the leaves will not lie flat, but curl
+on each side of the centre rib.</p>
+
+<p>The prickly leaves which grow low down
+on the tree have sharp spines along the waved
+edges, and a very sharp spine always grows
+at the point of the leaf. But the upper
+branches are clothed with blunt leaves which
+have no spines along the edges; instead there
+is a pale yellow line round each leaf, and there
+is a single blunt spine at the point.</p>
+
+<p>Sheep and deer are very fond of eating the
+tough, leathery leaves of the Holly, and it is
+believed that the tree clothes its lower
+branches in prickly leaves to protect itself
+from these greedy enemies.</p>
+
+<p>Country people tell you that if branches of
+smooth Holly are the first to be brought into
+the house at Christmas-time, then the wife
+will be head of the house all the next year,
+but if the prickly boughs enter first, then the
+husband will be ruler.</p>
+
+<p>The Holly leaves hang on the tree several
+years, and after they fall they lie a long time
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>76]</a></span>
+on the ground before the damp soaks through
+their leathery skin and makes them decay.
+You will find Holly leaves from which all the
+green part of the leaf has disappeared, leaving
+a beautiful skeleton leaf of grey fibre,
+which is still perfect in every vein and rib.</p>
+
+<p>The flowers of the Holly bloom in May.
+They appear in small crowded clusters between
+the leaf stalk and the twig, and each
+flower is a delicate pale pink on the outside,
+but is pure white within. There is a calyx
+cup edged with four green points, and inside
+this cup stands a long white tube, with four
+white petals at the top. There are four yellow-headed
+stamens, and a tiny seed-vessel is
+hidden inside the flower tube. Sometimes all
+these parts will be found complete in a single
+flower; sometimes there will be flowers on the
+same branch which have stamens and no seed-vessel,
+and others which have seed-vessels and
+no stamens. Perhaps you will find a whole
+tree on which not a single seed flower grows.
+This tree may be laden with lovely white flowers
+in spring, but it will bear no berries in
+winter. You must have both stamen flowers
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>77]</a></span>
+and seed flowers if the tree is to produce any
+fruit.</p>
+
+<p>As summer passes, the seed-vessels, which
+have had stamen dust scattered over them, become
+small green berries and these berries
+turn yellow and then change into a deep red,
+the colour of coral or sealing wax. The berries
+cluster round the green stalk, and most
+beautiful they are among the glossy dark
+leaves. Inside each berry there are four little
+fruit stones containing seeds, and the birds
+love to eat these red berries, which are full of
+mealy pulp; but remember that children must
+never eat the Holly berries, as they are poisonous
+except for the birds.</p>
+
+<p>You will find that if the Holly tree has a
+good crop of berries this winter there will not
+be many the following year; the tree seems to
+require a year&rsquo;s rest before it can produce a
+second large crop.</p>
+
+<p>There are some Holly trees with leaves
+which are shaded with pale yellow or white-variegated
+Hollies, we call them. These are
+greatly prized for planting in gardens, where
+the bushes with different-coloured leaves lend
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>78]</a></span>
+much beauty when all the trees are bare in
+winter.</p>
+
+<p>The wood of the Holly is too small to be of
+much use. It is white and very hard, and
+when stained black it is largely used instead
+of ebony, which is scarce and expensive. The
+black handles of many of our silver teapots
+are made of stained Holly wood, and the slender
+branches are good for making walking-sticks
+and coachmen&rsquo;s whips.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>79]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap05" id="bk2chap05"></a>THE FABLE OF THE THREE ELMS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The North Wind spoke to three sturdy elms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, &ldquo;Now you are dead!&rdquo; said he;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I have blown a blast till the snow whirled past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And withered your leaves, and see:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You are brown and old and your boughs are cold!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he sneered at the elm trees three.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The first elm spoke in a hollow tone<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">(For the snow lay deep and white,)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;You think we are dead, North Wind?&rdquo; he said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&ldquo;Why we sleep&mdash;as you sleep at night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath the snow lie my sturdy roots,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They grip on the friendly earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I rest&mdash;till another year!&rdquo; said he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he shook with a noisy mirth.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>80]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">The second elm laughed a hearty laugh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, &ldquo;North Wind,&rdquo; he cried in glee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Beneath my bark glows a living spark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The sap of a healthy tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My boughs are bare and my leaves are gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But&mdash;what have I to fear?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the winter time is my time of rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And I sleep till another year!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The third elm spoke and his voice was sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And kind as the summery sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Oh, Wind!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;we are far from spring&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The God in whose hand we be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looks down, with love, from the winter sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sends us His sun to cheer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If we had no snow there would be no spring&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We rest till another year!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The three elms rocked in the stinging blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And under the heavy snow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their roots were warm from the raging storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And safe from the winds that blow.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>81]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">They smiled in their hearts and their leafless boughs<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Spread over the frosty way;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For they knew that the God of forest trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Would watch through each winter day.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The North Wind uttered a frosty sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As the snow blew far and free;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his weary eyes sought the winter skies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And, &ldquo;Mighty is God!&rdquo; said he.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;To die or live are His gifts to give!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And he smiled at the elm trees three.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Margaret E. Sangster, Jr.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>82]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap06" id="bk2chap06"></a>THE PINE AND THE WILLOW</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Japanese Tale)</p>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Mine Morishima</p>
+
+
+<p>In a beautiful large garden, among many
+kinds of trees and shrubs, there stood a tall
+fine Pine tree, and near to him, and almost
+as tall, a graceful Willow.</p>
+
+<p>One dark winter morning the wind blew
+hard and the clouds showed that a storm was
+coming soon.</p>
+
+<p>The Pine felt lonesome, as little children
+often do and thought he would talk to the
+Willow. So he said, &ldquo;Friend Willow, your
+branches are trembling. I am sorry for you,
+for I know you are afraid of the storm that
+is coming. I wish you were like me. I am
+so strong nothing can hurt me. The frost cannot
+change the colour of my leaves nor the
+wind blow them off; occasionally, some old
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>83]</a></span>
+ones may fall on the ground, but there are
+always new ones to take their places&mdash;and I
+am the only tree in this large garden that is
+always fresh and bright. As for you, dear
+Willow, your branches all hang down, you
+have no leaves now and, as you are neither
+strong nor pretty and shake in such a little
+wind, of what good are you to yourself, or
+to any one else?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Pine,&rdquo; the Willow answered, &ldquo;I do
+not tremble with fear, for I am not afraid,
+but God made me so that the wind would
+move my branches very easily, and that I
+should not have leaves in the winter time. By
+and by I shall have delicate green leaves and
+blossoms, and I thank Him for giving me a
+beautiful summer dress, even though I go bare
+in cold weather. It must be very beautiful
+to be strong and handsome, as you are, and I
+am happy in having so good a friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>While they were talking the wind had
+grown much stronger, and now the rain came
+pouring down. The Pine stood up angrily
+against the wind, scolding with a hin, hin, hin,
+while the Willow bent and swayed to and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>84]</a></span>
+fro and all the other trees bowed their heads.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Pine said, &ldquo;Willow, why do you
+not push this rude wind away instead of yielding
+to him; you are cowardly to let him abuse
+you so, when you might resist him, as I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the Willow answered, &ldquo;There are
+many ways to keep oneself from harm, and I
+do not like to resist any one with force.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Pine was vexed at the Willow and
+would say no more, but battled with the wind
+he could no longer hold back. Then his
+branches were torn and his top broken off;
+they fell to the ground and the proud tree was
+a sad sight.</p>
+
+<p>But the Willow bent her branches and
+yielded to the wind, and so was unhurt.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, when the rain had ceased
+and the sun shone brightly, the owner of the
+garden came out to see how his trees had
+stood the storm. When he saw the broken
+Pine he thought it was too bad to have a
+broken tree in his fine garden, so he ordered
+the gardener to move the Pine into the back
+yard.</p>
+
+<p>After a time, spring came, and the Willow
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>85]</a></span>
+put forth her lovely green leaves and every
+one who passed looked at the graceful tree
+and said, &ldquo;How beautiful she is, how gentle
+she seems!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The little birds built their nests in her
+branches, and soon baby birds came, which
+made the tree very happy. The butterflies
+danced around in the sunshine and all summer
+little children loved to play in the shade
+of the drooping Willow.</p>
+
+<p>And when the Pine peeped in from the
+back yard, and saw how happy and beautiful
+the Willow was, and how the children, the
+birds, and the butterflies loved to play about
+her, he thought, &ldquo;If only I had been less proud
+of my own strength, then might I, too, be
+standing in that beautiful garden with my
+crown of leaves, and with young life all about
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>86]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap07" id="bk2chap07"></a>WHY THE WILD RABBITS ARE WHITE IN WINTER</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Algonquin Legend)</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="smlfont">Adapted from &ldquo;Algonquin Indian Tales,&rdquo; by Egerton R.
+Young. Copyright, 1903, by Egerton R. Young. Reprinted
+by permission of the Abington Press, Publishers.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Long ago Wild Rabbit of the Northland
+wore a brown fur coat, throughout the year.
+Today, when the long winter months come,
+Wild Rabbit changes his coat of brown to one
+that is the colour of the snow. And this is how
+the change happened.</p>
+
+<p>Wild Rabbit could not defend himself
+from his many foes. Almost all the animals,&mdash;foxes
+of all kinds, wildcats, wolves, wolverines,
+weasels, and ermine hunted Wild Rabbit
+for food. Then there were the fierce birds,&mdash;the
+eagles, hawks, and owls&mdash;that were always
+on the lookout for rabbits, young or old. The
+result was that with this war continually
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>87]</a></span>
+waged against them, the poor rabbits had a
+hard time of it, especially in winter. They
+found it very difficult to hide themselves when
+the leaves were off the trees and the ground
+was covered with snow.</p>
+
+<p>In those days of long ago the animals used
+to have a large council. There was a great
+father at the head of each kind of animal and
+bird, and these leaders used to meet and talk
+about the welfare of their kind. There was
+always peace and friendship among them
+while at the council. They appointed a king
+and he presided as chief. All the animals
+that had troubles or grievances had a right to
+come and speak about them at the council, and
+if it were possible, all wrongs were remedied.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes queer things were said. At one
+council the bear found great fault with the fox
+who had deceived him and had caused him to
+lose his beautiful tail by telling him to go and
+catch fish with it in a big crack in the ice.
+The bear sat fishing so long that the crack
+froze up solidly and, to save his life, the bear
+had to break off his tail.</p>
+
+<p>But all the things they talked about were
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>88]</a></span>
+not so funny as the bear&rsquo;s complaint. They
+had their troubles and dangers and they discussed
+various plans for improving their condition;
+also, they considered how they could
+best defeat the skill and cleverness of the
+human hunters.</p>
+
+<p>At one of the council meetings, when the
+rabbit&rsquo;s turn to be heard came, he said that
+his people were nearly all destroyed, that the
+rest of the world seemed to be combined
+against his race and they were killing them by
+day and night, in summer and winter. Also,
+he declared that the rabbits had little power
+to fight against enemies, and, therefore, his
+people were almost discouraged, but they had
+sent him to the council to see if the members
+could suggest any remedy or plan to save the
+rabbit race from complete destruction.</p>
+
+<p>While the rabbit was speaking the wolverine
+winked at the wildcat, while the fox, although
+he tried to look solemn, could not keep
+his mouth from watering as he thought of the
+many rabbits he intended to eat.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it can be seen that the rabbit did not
+get much sympathy from his enemies in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>89]</a></span>
+council. But his friends,&mdash;the moose, the
+reindeer, and the mountain goat&mdash;stood up in
+the meeting and spoke out bravely for their
+little friend. Indeed, they told the animals
+that had laughed at the little rabbit&rsquo;s sad
+story that if they continued to kill all the rabbits
+they could find there would soon be none
+left. Then these cruel animals would be the
+greatest sufferers, for what else could they find
+to eat in sufficient numbers to keep them alive,
+if the rabbits were all gone?</p>
+
+<p>This thought sobered the thoughtless animals
+at first but they soon resumed their mocking
+at the poor little rabbit and his story. As
+they happened to be in the majority, the
+council refused to do anything in the matter.</p>
+
+<p>When the moose heard the decision of the
+council he was very sorry for his poor little
+brother rabbit. He lowered his head and
+told the rabbit to jump on one of his flat horns.
+The moose then carried him some distance
+away from the council and said, &ldquo;There is no
+hope for you here. Most of the animals live
+on you and so they will not do anything that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>90]</a></span>
+will make it more difficult for you to be caught
+than it now is. Your only hope is to go to
+Manabozho, and see what he can do for you.
+His name was once Manabush, which means
+Great Rabbit, so I am sure he will be your
+friend because I think he is a distant relative
+of yours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Away sped the rabbit along the route described
+by the moose, who had lately found
+out where Manabozho was stopping.</p>
+
+<p>The rabbit was such a timid creature that,
+when he came near to Manabozho, he was
+much afraid that he would not be welcomed.
+However, his case was desperate, and although
+his heart was thumping with fear he hurried
+along to have the matter decided as soon as
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>To his great joy he found Manabozho in
+the best humour and the little creature was
+received most kindly. The great Master saw
+how weary the little rabbit was after the long
+journey so he made the little fellow rest on
+some fragrant grass in the sunshine. Then
+Manabozho went out and brought in some of
+the choicest things in his garden for the rabbit.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>91]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Tell me all your troubles, little brother,&rdquo;
+said Manabozho. &ldquo;Also, tell me about the
+council meeting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The rabbit repeated his story and told all
+about the treatment he had received at the
+council.</p>
+
+<p>When the Great Master heard how unjustly
+the little rabbit had been treated he grew
+very angry and said, &ldquo;And that is the way
+they treated little brother rabbit at the council
+we have given them, is it? And they know
+we expect them to give the smallest and weakest
+the same kind of justice as they offer the
+biggest and strongest! It is high time for
+some one to report the council news to me if
+such unfair meetings take place. Look out,
+Mr. Fox, Mr. Wolverine, and Mr. Wildcat,
+for if I take you in hand you&rsquo;ll be sorry little
+brother rabbit was obliged to come to Manabozho
+for help.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Great Master had worked himself up
+into such a furious temper that the rabbit was
+frightened almost to death. But when Manabozho
+saw this he laughed and said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+sorry to have frightened you, little brother.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>92]</a></span>
+But I was so very angry with those animals
+for ill-treating you that I forgot myself. And
+now tell me what you wish me to do for you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After a long talk about the matter it was
+decided that there should be two great changes
+made. First, the eyes of the rabbit should be
+so increased in power that in the future they
+would be able to see by night as well as by
+day. Second, in all the Northland where
+much snow falls during many months of the
+year the rabbits of that region should change
+their coats for the winter season into a beautiful
+white colour like the snow.</p>
+
+<p>And the rabbits of the Northland now have
+a much better time than they had formerly.
+In their soft white coats they can glide away
+from their enemies, or they can sometimes
+escape notice by remaining perfectly still on
+the white earth. (<i>Adapted.</i>)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>93]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap08" id="bk2chap08"></a>THE YEW</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Janet Harvey Kelman</p>
+
+
+<p>Once upon a time a discontented Yew tree
+grew in a wood. Other trees, it thought, had
+larger and more beautiful leaves which fluttered
+in the breeze and became red and brown
+and yellow in the sunshine, and the Yew
+tree pined because the fairies had given
+it such an unattractive dress. One morning
+the sunshine disclosed that all its green
+leaves had changed into leaves made of
+gold, and the heart of the Yew tree danced
+with happiness. But some robbers, as they
+stole through the forest, were attracted by the
+glitter, and stripped off every golden leaf.
+Again the tree bemoaned its fate, and next day
+the sun shone on leaves of purest crystal.
+&ldquo;How beautiful!&rdquo; thought the tree; &ldquo;see how
+I sparkle!&rdquo; But a hailstorm burst from the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>94]</a></span>
+clouds, and the sparkling leaves lay shivered
+on the grass. Once more the good fairies
+tried to comfort the unhappy tree. Smooth
+broad leaves covered its branches, and the Yew
+tree flaunted these gay banners in the wind.
+But, alas, a flock of goats came by and ate of
+the fresh young leaves &ldquo;a million and ten.&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Give me back again my old dress,&rdquo; sobbed
+the Yew, &ldquo;for I see that it was best.&rdquo; And
+ever since its leaves remain unchanging, and
+it wears the sombre dress which covered its
+boughs in the days when King William landed
+from Normandy on our shores, and the swineherd
+tended his pigs in the great forests which
+covered so much of Merry England.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>95]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap09" id="bk2chap09"></a>HOW THE PINE TREE DID SOME GOOD</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Samuel W. Duffield</p>
+
+
+<p>It was a long narrow valley where the Pine
+Tree stood, and perhaps if you want to look
+for it you might find it there today. For pine
+trees live a long time, and this one was not
+very old.</p>
+
+<p>The valley was quite barren. Nothing
+grew there but a few scrubby bushes; and, to
+tell the truth, it was about as desolate a place
+as you can well imagine. Far up over it hung
+the great, snowy caps of the Rocky Mountains,
+where the clouds played hide and seek
+all day, and chased each other merrily across
+the snow. There was a little stream, too, that
+gathered itself up among the snows and came
+running down the side of the mountain; but
+for all that the valley was very dreary.</p>
+
+<p>Once in a while there went a large grey
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>96]</a></span>
+rabbit, hopping among the sagebushes; but
+look as far as you could you would find no
+more inhabitants. Poor, solitary little valley,
+with not even a cottonwood down by the
+stream, and hardly enough grass to furnish
+three oxen with a meal! Poor, barren little
+valley lying always for half the day in the
+shadow of those tall cliffs&mdash;burning under the
+summer sun, heaped high with the winter
+snows&mdash;lying there year after year without a
+friend! Yes, it had two friends, though they
+could do it but little good, for they were two
+pine trees. The one nearest the mountain,
+hanging quite out of reach in a cleft of the
+rock, was an old, gnarled tree, which had
+stood there for a hundred years. The other
+was younger, with bright green foliage, summer
+and winter. It curled up the ends of its
+branches, as if it would like to have you understand
+that it was a very fine, hardy fellow,
+even if it wasn&rsquo;t as old as its father up there
+in the cleft of the rock.</p>
+
+<p>Now the young Pine Tree grew very lonesome
+at times, and was glad to talk with any
+persons who came along, and they were few,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>97]</a></span>
+I can tell you. Occasionally, it would look
+lovingly up to the father pine, and wonder if
+it could make him hear what it said. It would
+rustle its branches and shout by the hour, but
+the father pine heard him only once, and then
+the words were so mixed with falling snow
+that it was really impossible to say what they
+meant.</p>
+
+<p>So the Pine Tree was very lonesome and no
+wonder. &ldquo;I wish I knew of what good I am,&rdquo;
+he said to the grey rabbit one day. &ldquo;I wish I
+knew,&mdash;I wish I knew,&rdquo; and he rustled his
+branches until they all seemed to say, &ldquo;Wish I
+knew&mdash;wish I knew.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O pshaw!&rdquo; said the rabbit, &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t
+concern myself much about that. Some day
+you&rsquo;ll find out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But do tell me,&rdquo; persisted the Pine Tree,
+&ldquo;of what good you think I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; answered the rabbit, sitting up on
+her hind paws and washing her face with her
+front ones, in order that company shouldn&rsquo;t
+see her unless she looked trim and tidy&mdash;&ldquo;well,&rdquo;
+said the rabbit, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t exactly say
+myself what it is. If you don&rsquo;t help one, you
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>98]</a></span>
+help another&mdash;and that&rsquo;s right enough, isn&rsquo;t
+it? As for me, I take care of my family. I
+hop around among the sagebushes and get
+their breakfast and dinner and supper. I have
+plenty to do, I assure you, and you must really
+excuse me now, for I have to be off.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I was a hare,&rdquo; muttered the Pine
+Tree to himself, &ldquo;I think I could do some
+good then, for I should have a family to support,
+but I know I can&rsquo;t now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he called across to the little stream
+and asked the same question of him. And the
+stream rippled along, and danced in the sunshine,
+and answered him. &ldquo;I go on errands
+for the big mountain all day. I carried one
+of your cones not long ago to a point of land
+twenty miles off, and there now is a pine tree
+that looks just like you. But I must run along,
+I am so busy. I can&rsquo;t tell you of what good
+you are. You must wait and see.&rdquo; And the
+little stream danced on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I were a stream,&rdquo; thought the Pine
+Tree. &ldquo;Anything but being tied down to this
+spot for years. That is unfair. The rabbit
+can run around, and so can the stream; but I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>99]</a></span>
+must stand still forever. I wish I were dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>By and by the summer passed into autumn,
+and the autumn into winter, and the snowflakes
+began to fall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Halloo!&rdquo; said the first one, all in a flutter,
+as she dropped on the Pine Tree. But he
+shook her off, and she fell still farther down
+on the ground. The Pine Tree was getting
+very churlish and cross lately.</p>
+
+<p>However, the snow didn&rsquo;t stop for all that
+and very soon there was a white robe over all
+the narrow valley. The Pine Tree had no
+one to talk with now. The stream had covered
+himself in with ice and snow, and wasn&rsquo;t to be
+seen.</p>
+
+<p>The hare had to hop around very industriously
+to get enough for her children to eat;
+and the sagebushes were always low-minded
+fellows and couldn&rsquo;t begin to keep up a ten-minutes&rsquo;
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>At last there came a solitary figure across
+the valley, making its way straight for the
+Pine Tree. It was a lame mule, which had
+been left behind from some wagon-train. He
+dragged himself slowly on till he reached the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>100]</a></span>
+tree. Now the Pine, in shaking off the snow,
+had shaken down some cones as well, and they
+lay on the snow. These the mule picked up
+and began to eat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Heigh ho!&rdquo; said the tree, &ldquo;I never knew
+those things were fit to eat before.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; replied the mule. &ldquo;Why I
+have lived on these things, as you call them,
+ever since I left the wagons. I am going back
+on the Oregon Trail, and I sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t see you
+again. Accept my thanks for breakfast.
+Good-bye.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And he moved off to the other end of the
+valley and disappeared among the rocks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well!&rdquo; exclaimed the Pine Tree. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s
+something, at all events.&rdquo; And he shook down
+a number of cones on the snow. He was really
+happier than he had ever been before,&mdash;and
+with good reason, too.</p>
+
+<p>After a while there appeared three people.
+They were a family of Indians,&mdash;a father, a
+mother, and a little child. They, too, went
+straight to the tree.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll stay here,&rdquo; said the father, looking
+across at the snow-covered bed of the stream
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>101]</a></span>
+and up at the Pine Tree. He was very poorly
+clothed, this Indian. He and his wife and the
+child had on dresses of hare-skins, and they
+possessed nothing more of any account, except
+bow and arrows, and a stick with a net on the
+end. They had no lodge poles, and not even
+a dog. They were very miserable and hungry.
+The man threw down his bow and arrows
+not far from the tree. Then he began to
+clear away the snow in a circle and to pull up
+the sagebushes. These he and the woman
+built into a round, low hut, and then they
+lighted a fire within it. While it was beginning
+to burn the man went to the stream and
+broke a hole in the ice. Tying a string to his
+arrow, he shot a fish which came up to breathe,
+and, after putting it on the coals, they all ate
+it half-raw. They never noticed the Pine
+Tree, though he scattered down at least a
+dozen more cones.</p>
+
+<p>At last night came on, cold and cheerless.
+The wind blew savagely through the valleys,
+and howled at the Pine Tree, for they were
+old enemies. Oh, it was a bitter night, but finally
+the morning broke! More snow had
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>102]</a></span>
+fallen and heaped up against the hut so that
+you could hardly tell that it was there. The
+stream had frozen tighter than before and the
+man could not break a hole in the ice again.
+The sagebushes were all hid by the drifts, and
+the Indians could find none to burn.</p>
+
+<p>Then they turned to the Pine Tree. How
+glad he was to help them! They gathered up
+the cones and roasted the seeds on the fire.
+They cut branches from the tree and burned
+them, and so kept up the warmth in their hut.</p>
+
+<p>The Pine Tree began to find himself useful,
+and he told the hare so one morning when she
+came along. But she saw the Indian&rsquo;s hut,
+and did not stop to reply. She had put on her
+winter coat of white, yet the Indian had seen
+her in spite of all her care. He followed her
+over the snow with his net, and caught her
+among the drifts. Poor Pine Tree! She was
+almost his only friend, and when he saw her
+eaten and her skin taken for the child&rsquo;s mantle,
+he was very sorrowful, you may be sure. He
+saw that if the Indians stayed there, he, too,
+would have to die, for they would in time burn
+off all his branches, and use all his cones; but
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>103]</a></span>
+he was doing good at last, and he was content.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day passed by,&mdash;some bleak, some
+warm,&mdash;and the winter moved slowly along.
+The Indians only went from their hut to the
+Pine Tree now. He gave them fire and food,
+and the snow was their drink. He was smaller
+than before, for many branches were gone,
+but he was happier than ever.</p>
+
+<p>One day the sun came out more warmly, and
+it seemed as if spring was near. The Indian
+man broke a hole in the ice, and got more fish.
+The Indian woman caught a rabbit. The Indian
+child gathered sagebushes from under
+the fast-melting snow and made a hotter fire to
+cook the feast. And they did feast, and then
+they went away.</p>
+
+<p>The Pine Tree had found out his mission.
+He had helped to save three lives.</p>
+
+<p>In the summer there came along a band of
+explorers, and one, the botanist of the party,
+stopped beside our Pine Tree:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This,&rdquo; said he in his big words, &ldquo;is the
+Pinus Monophyllus, otherwise known as the
+Bread Pine.&rdquo; He looked at the deserted hut
+and passed his hand over his forehead.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>104]</a></span>
+&ldquo;How strange it is,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;This Pine
+Tree must have kept a whole family from cold
+and starvation last winter. There are very
+few of us who have done as much good as
+that.&rdquo; And when he went away, he waved his
+hand to the tree and thanked God in his heart
+that it grew there. And the Bread Pine
+waved his branches in return, and said to himself
+as he gazed after the departing band: &ldquo;I
+will never complain again, for I have found
+out what a pleasant thing it is to do good, and
+I know now that every one in his lifetime can
+do a little of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>105]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap10" id="bk2chap10"></a>A WONDERFUL WEAVER</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There&rsquo;s a wonderful weaver<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">High up in the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he weaves a white mantle<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For cold earth to wear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the wind for his shuttle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The cloud for his loom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How he weaves, how he weaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In the light, in the gloom.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, with finest of laces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He decks bush and tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the bare, flinty meadows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A cover lays he.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then a quaint cap he places<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On pillar and post,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he changes the pump<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To a grim, silent ghost.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>106]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">But this wonderful weaver<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Grows weary at last;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the shuttle lies idle<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That once flew so fast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then the sun peeps abroad<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the work that is done;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he smiles: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll unravel<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It all, just for fun.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">George Cooper.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>107]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap11" id="bk2chap11"></a>THE PINE AND THE FLAX</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Albrekt Segerstedt</p>
+
+
+<p>Just where a forest ended grew a pine tree
+taller and more beautiful than all the others
+in the forest. Far away could be seen its feathery
+round crown, whose soft branches waved
+so gracefully when the wind blew across the
+plain.</p>
+
+<p>At the foot of the pine tree the fields of
+grain began.</p>
+
+<p>Here the farmer sowed seeds of many kinds,
+but the flax was sowed nearest the pine. It
+came up beautiful and even, and the pine
+thought a great deal of the slender green
+thing.</p>
+
+<p>The flax stalk raised itself higher and
+higher, and near the close of summer it bore a
+little blue helmet on his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thou art so beautiful!&rdquo; said the tall pine.</p>
+
+<p>The flax bowed itself low, but raised again
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>108]</a></span>
+so gracefully that it looked like a billowy sea.</p>
+
+<p>The pine and the flax often talked to each
+other and became great friends.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What folly!&rdquo; said the other forest trees to
+the pine. &ldquo;Do not have anything to do with
+the flax; it is so weak. Choose the tall spruce
+or the birch tree. They are strong.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the pine would not desert the flax.</p>
+
+<p>The thistle and other small plants talked to
+the flax.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are crazy to think of the lofty pine.
+It does not trouble itself about you. It is tall
+and proud. Children of a size play best together.
+Think of the bush and vine and content
+yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall trust the pine,&rdquo; replied the flax. &ldquo;It
+is honourable and faithful and I am fond of
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So the pine and the flax remained friends.</p>
+
+<p>Time passed and the flax was pulled up and
+made into ropes and cloth. The pine was
+felled and its trunk carried to the city. But
+the pine and flax did not forget each other,
+though neither knew where the other was.</p>
+
+<p>A large, beautiful ship was launched upon
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>109]</a></span>
+the water. On this the pine tree was erected
+as a mast, and on the highest part waved a
+flag.</p>
+
+<p>Then came a great white sail to help the
+mast carry the proud ship forward. It
+wrapped itself around the mast, spread itself
+out like a great wing, and caught the wind on
+its wide curve.</p>
+
+<p>The sail had been woven of linen that grew
+as flax out in the field on the edge of the wood.
+And the two friends had met again.</p>
+
+<p>Clasping each other faithfully, out over the
+foaming billows they went to new lands. It
+was life, it was pleasure to go on united as
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>The winds took a message back to the forest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who would have believed it?&rdquo; said the
+spruce and the birch.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>110]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap12" id="bk2chap12"></a>THE FIR TREE</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O singing Wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Searching field and wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cans&rsquo;t thou find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aught that&rsquo;s sweet or good&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flowers, to kiss awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or dewy grass, to shake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or feathered seed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Aloft to speed?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Replies the wind:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&ldquo;I cannot find<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flowers, to kiss awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or dewy grass to shake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or feathered seed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Aloft to speed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet I meet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Something sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the scented fir,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Balsam-breathing fir&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In my flight I stir.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Edith M. Thomas.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>111]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap13" id="bk2chap13"></a>WHY BRUIN HAS A STUMPY TAIL</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Norwegian Legend)</p>
+
+
+<p>Once upon a time a sly fox lived in a deep forest
+which bordered a river. One fine winter
+day he was lying in the sun near a brush heap
+with his eyes closed, and he was thinking: &ldquo;It
+has been several days since I had a dainty supper.
+How I should enjoy a fine large fish this
+evening. I&rsquo;ll slip over to the edge of the forest
+and watch the fishermen as they go home with
+their day&rsquo;s catch. Perhaps good luck will do
+something for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now one old man had caught a very fine lot
+of fish of all sizes. Indeed, he had so many
+that he was obliged to hire a cart in which to
+carry them home. He was driving along
+slowly when suddenly he noticed a red fox
+crouched under the bush near the road. He
+stopped his horse, jumped down from the cart,
+and carefully crept near the spot where he had
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>112]</a></span>
+seen Master Reynard. The fox did not open
+his eyes nor move a muscle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the old fisherman, &ldquo;I do believe
+he is dead! What a fine coat he has. I
+will take him home and give him to my wife
+for a present.&rdquo; He lifted the fox and put him
+into the cart among the fish. The old man
+then mounted to his seat and drove merrily on,
+thinking how pleased his wife would be with
+the fine fish and the fox. When they were
+well on their way, the sly fox threw one fish
+after another out of the cart until all lay scattered
+along on the road; then he slipped out
+of the cart.</p>
+
+<p>When the old man reached his cottage, he
+called out to his wife, &ldquo;Come and see the fine
+fish I caught to-day. And I have brought you
+a beautiful gift, also.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His wife hurried to the cart and said,
+&ldquo;Where are the fish, my husband, and where
+is my present?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, there in the cart,&rdquo; he replied.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the cart!&rdquo; exclaimed his wife. &ldquo;Why,
+there is nothing here; neither fish nor present,
+so far as I can see.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>113]</a></span>
+The old man looked and to his great surprise
+and disappointment he discovered that
+what his wife said was true.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the sly fox had gathered up the
+fish and had taken them to the forest in order
+to enjoy a fine supper. Presently he heard a
+pleasant voice saying, &ldquo;Good evening, Brother
+Reynard.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He looked up and saw his friend Bruin.
+&ldquo;Oh, good evening to you,&rdquo; answered the fox.
+&ldquo;I have been fishing to-day, and, as you see,
+luck certainly attended me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It did, indeed,&rdquo; answered the bear.
+&ldquo;Could you not spare me one fish? I should
+consider the gift a great favor.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; answered the fox, &ldquo;why don&rsquo;t you go
+fishing yourself? I assure you when one becomes
+a fisherman, he thoroughly enjoys the
+fruits of patience.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go fishing, my friend,&rdquo; said Bruin, in astonishment.
+&ldquo;That is impossible. I know
+nothing about catching fish, I assure you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pooh, it is very easy, especially in the winter
+time when ice nearly covers the river. Let
+me tell you what to do. Make a hole in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>114]</a></span>
+ice and stick your tail down into it. Hold it
+there just as long as you can and keep saying,
+&lsquo;Come, little fish; come, big fish.&rsquo; Don&rsquo;t mind
+if the tail smarts a little; that only means that
+you have a bite, and I assure you the longer
+you hold it there the more fish you will catch.
+Then all at once, out with your tail. Give a
+strong pull sideways, then upward, and you&rsquo;ll
+have enough fish to last you several days. But
+mind you, follow my directions closely.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, my friend, I am very grateful for your
+kind information,&rdquo; said Bruin, and off he went
+to the river where he proceeded to follow Master
+Fox&rsquo;s directions.</p>
+
+<p>In a short time sly Reynard passed by, and
+when he saw Bruin patiently sitting on the ice
+with his tail in a hole, he laughed until his
+sides ached. He said, wickedly, under his
+breath: &ldquo;A clear sky, a clear sky! Bruin&rsquo;s tail
+will freeze, Bruin&rsquo;s tail will freeze.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What did you say, my friend?&rdquo; asked the
+bear.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I was making a wish,&rdquo; replied the fox.</p>
+
+<p>All night long Bruin sat there, fishing patiently.
+Then he decided to go home. How
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>115]</a></span>
+very heavy his tail felt. He thought to himself
+that all the fish in the river must be fastened
+there. In a little while the women of
+the village came to get water from the river,
+and when they saw the bear, they called out at
+the top of their voices: &ldquo;Come, come! A bear,
+a bear! Kill him! Kill him!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The men came quickly with great sticks in
+their hands. Poor Bruin gave a short pull
+sideways and his tail snapped off short. He
+made off to the woods as fast as he could go,
+but to this day he goes about with a stumpy
+tail.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>116]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap14" id="bk2chap14"></a>PINES AND FIRS</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Mrs. Dyson</p>
+
+
+<p>Pines and firs! Who knows the difference
+between a pine and a fir! These trees are first
+cousins; they often dwell together in our
+woods; they are evergreen; they have narrow,
+pointed leaves; and they bear cones, and so we
+often call them all firs, as if they were brothers.
+This may satisfy strangers and passers-by
+who only turn their heads and say: &ldquo;Ah!
+a fir wood,&rdquo; but it will not be sufficient
+for the friends of the trees. Pines and firs
+are as different as oaks and beeches; and who
+would not be ashamed to take a beech for an
+oak!</p>
+
+<p>A fir is the shape of a church steeple or a
+spear-head about to cleave the sky. The lowermost
+branches come out in a ring and spread
+out straight and stiff like the spokes of a wheel.
+Above this whorl is another of shorter
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>117]</a></span>
+branches still, and so on, till the top ring is
+quite a little one round a pointed shoot. The
+little shoots fork out on each side of the big
+branches, and like them are set closely with
+leaves. These shoots do not point up to the
+sky nor down to the earth; they spread out
+flat, so that the branch looks like a huge fern.</p>
+
+<p>Pines begin to grow like firs; but as they
+shoot up side by side in the woods, their lower
+branches drop off for want of air and sunshine,
+and their upper branches spread out wider.
+A fir is a pyramid with a pointed top; but
+a full-grown pine has a flat top, and often a
+tall, bare trunk, so that it looks like a great
+umbrella. A famous Roman writer, Pliny,
+said that the smoke of a volcano was like a pine
+tree. The smoke shoots up in a great pillar
+from the mouth of the fiery mountain, and
+then spreads itself out in a black cap.</p>
+
+<p>You have often amused yourselves with finding
+pictures in the clouds. Have you seen a
+pillar of mist rise up from the horizon, the
+meeting line of the earth and sky, and then lose
+itself in a soft cloud? The country people in
+some parts of Europe call this cloud-form
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>118]</a></span>
+<em>Abraham&rsquo;s tree</em> or <em>Adam&rsquo;s tree</em>, because it is
+so like a pine tree. When the clouds break up
+into the soft, white, fleecy ripples that we call
+a mackerel sky, they say, &ldquo;We shall have wind,
+for Adam&rsquo;s tree is putting forth leaves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The pine trees dress themselves in long,
+blue-green, rounded needles set in bundles of
+two, three, or more, bristling out all round
+their branches; but the fir trees wear short,
+narrow, flat leaves of a yellow-green colour, set
+singly each one by itself. These fir leaves
+come out all round the stem just as pine leaves
+do, but they are parted down the middle as we
+sometimes part our hair, so that they spread
+out flat in two thick rows.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ruskin calls the pines and firs and their
+relations the builders with the sword, because
+of their narrow, pointed leaves, and the broad-leaved
+trees he calls the builders with the
+shield. The trees of the sword stand erect on
+the hills like armed soldiers prepared for war;
+while the trees of the shield spread themselves
+in the valleys to shelter the fields and pastures.</p>
+
+<p>Why do these mountain trees have such narrow
+leaves? Can you find out a reason?
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>119]</a></span>
+Perhaps this is one: when the great, strong wind is
+raging with all his force, he will not suffer
+any resistance but breaks down everything that
+tries to stay him in his course; if he meets
+broad leaves and heavy branches, he hurls
+them out of his way, but he just whistles
+through the slender leaves and branches of the
+pines and firs, and scarcely knows they are
+there.</p>
+
+<p>When you gather the cones in the wood, you
+may know at once whether they have fallen
+from pine trees or from fir trees. A pine cone
+looks like a single piece of carved solid wood
+until it opens, and then each hard scale shows
+a thick, square head; but the fir cones are made
+of broad, papery scales, with thin edges laid
+neatly one over the other.</p>
+
+<p>Now you will never have any difficulty in
+knowing the pines from the firs, even in the
+far distance&mdash;colour, form, dress, fruit, all are
+different.</p>
+
+<p>How is it we make a mistake, and call the
+Scotch pine by the name of Scotch fir? Perhaps
+it is because this tree is the only one of
+the great pine and fir family that is a real
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>120]</a></span>
+native of Britain. Our stay-at-home ancestors
+who lived above three hundred years ago
+never saw a real fir, and so their one pine had
+to represent all its relations. They knew it
+perhaps better than we do, for in their days
+there were many forests that have since been
+cut down to make room for houses and gardens
+and fields.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes when you have been walking
+over the moorland you have run to gather some
+bright yellow moss, and have suddenly found
+your foot sinking into wet, black mud, and you
+have heard stories of men and horses sucked
+down by just such dreadful slime. Hundreds
+of years ago forests stood where now lie these
+dangerous bogs, and the trees and shrubs rotting
+and decaying in the wet have changed
+into black, brown swamps. Many bogs have
+been drained, and the trunks of pine trees have
+been found in them standing as they grew. In
+one bog in Yorkshire pine trees were found
+sawn across and left to lie and rot. Who felled
+these trees which have been lying there hundreds
+of years? Can we tell? Yes; for among
+the trees are scattered axe-heads and Roman
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>121]</a></span>
+coins, and we are able to picture the old story
+of the place. There was once a forest there,
+and the ancient Britons hid themselves in its
+shelter, and the Romans cut down the trees to
+drive them from their hiding-place.</p>
+
+<p>There are two common kinds of firs which
+you will find in the woods. One is the spruce
+fir, a very prim and proper tree, with slightly
+curving branches turned up at the tips. It
+looks as if the branches had been all cut to a
+pattern, and their length and the distances between
+them carefully measured. When you
+have been washed and brushed and pulled and
+straightened, and had every hair and bow set
+in its proper place, so that you look particularly
+trim and neat, you sometimes laugh and
+call one another <em>spruce</em>, like the spruce fir.</p>
+
+<p>Some people think the name &ldquo;spruce&rdquo; means
+the <em>pruce</em>, or Prussian tree; others say it means
+the sprouting tree, the tree that sprouts at the
+ends of its branches. In some countries these
+bright-green sprouts are cut off and made into
+a kind of beer called spruce beer.</p>
+
+<p>The spruce fir is at home on the high mountains
+of Europe where it often grows one
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>122]</a></span>
+hundred and fifty feet high. You long for the
+time when you will be taken to Switzerland
+to see the snow-capped Alps. Then standing
+out against the white snow and the glittering
+ice rivers you will see the dark spruce forests.
+This fir is also at home in Norway and
+the cold lands of the North, and so we call it
+the Norway Spruce to distinguish it from
+other kinds of spruce fir that grow in America.
+In Norway many old men and women
+earn a living by gathering and selling in the
+markets pieces of fir for the people to strew on
+the graves as we do flowers.</p>
+
+<p>What sort of cones has the spruce? Can
+you find some in the fir wood? They are five
+or six inches long and perhaps two inches
+thick. You will see them hanging from the
+ends of the upper branches, and perhaps you
+may find some empty ones on the ground.
+Look at them. Those thin scales are very different
+from the tough walls of the pine cone:
+each one is shaped off to a point, and this point
+is divided into two sharp teeth.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps when you are looking for the cones,
+you will find growing fast to the branches
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>123]</a></span>
+among the leaves some fanciful things that
+look like little cones. These are very gay;
+every scale has a border of crimson velvet and
+a green spine in the middle of its back, like a
+little tusk. If you open them you will find
+some brown, soft things inside. Do you know
+what they are? Perhaps, if you have not already
+made friends with the real cone, you
+will think these are seeds; but some of you are
+growing wise, and know that you have intruded
+into a little nest of insects. If you tie
+a net round the branch and keep watch, you
+may see them come out. Their mother
+pierced a hole in a brown bud last autumn and
+laid her eggs there; then when the buds burst
+in spring the lower leaves grew fast together
+and made this comfortable house, and those
+green tusks you see are the leaf points.</p>
+
+<p>But what is the other kind of fir that grows
+in our wood? It is rather like the spruce in
+shape, but it is not quite so stiff and prim and
+proper, and underneath each little leaf there
+are two silver lines, and so we call this the silver
+fir. You may always know it from the
+spruce by these silver lines. Each stiff little
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>124]</a></span>
+leaf has its edges rolled under as if ready for
+hemming, and there is a thick green rib down
+the middle of the under side, so the silver lining
+just peeps out in single streaks between the
+rib and the hems.</p>
+
+<p>The spring tufts of the Norway spruce are
+of a bright yellow-green; those of the silver
+fir are paler and softer in tint, more like the
+primrose. When the sulphur butterfly lights
+on them we lose sight of him, so he flits from
+one to another, feeling quite safe, and keeping
+carefully away from those dark old leaves
+where he would be pounced upon at once.</p>
+
+<p>The silver fir does not let its cones hang
+down; it holds them proudly erect on its
+branches; like little towers often eight inches
+high. We wonder how such slender twigs can
+hold up such large cones. They look like
+hairy giants, for their scales do not end in two
+little teeth, but in a long point which turns
+back and bends downwards.</p>
+
+<p>The silver fir does not like quite such cold
+places as the spruce and the Scotch pine; it
+dwells lower down the mountain sides, and is
+at home in Central Europe.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>125]</a></span>
+All the pines and firs, like the Scotch pine,
+have those wonderful pipes and reservoirs of
+sticky turpentine juice inside their bark, but
+each kind of fir has its own way of making its
+stores, and so we get different kinds of resin
+and turpentine and balsams from different
+trees.</p>
+
+<p>It is these stores of resin that make the pine
+wood burn so brightly. The Highland chief
+needed no gas for his great illuminations; he
+had only to call his followers to hold up
+branches of blazing pine. It is not very wise
+to light a picnic fire in a pine or fir wood, for
+sometimes a few sparks will set a whole forest
+in flames.</p>
+
+<p><em>Fir</em>&mdash;<em>fire</em>: how much alike these two words
+are! Do you think they must have some connection
+with one another? Were the first fires
+made of fir wood? or was this tree called fir
+because it made such good fires? These words
+are so old that we can only guess their history.</p>
+
+<p>Those of you who like pretty things have
+often fingered admiringly some bright, shining
+necklace of amber beads. The pieces of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>126]</a></span>
+amber from which those beads were cut were
+picked up on the shores of the Baltic Sea, and
+it is supposed that once upon a time some great
+pines or firs dropped their gummy juice and
+this hardened into these beautiful transparent
+stones.</p>
+
+<p>Pines and firs are some of our greatest tree
+givers. They seem never tired of giving. Can
+you think of anything that is made of pine or
+fir wood? Perhaps you remember hearing
+that the seats or panels or ceilings in your
+school or church were of the wood of an
+American pine called the pitch pine. But
+common fir wood has a name of its own. Who
+has not heard of <em>deal</em>? A <em>deal</em> is a part or
+portion, and so we talk of a great deal of something
+meaning a large portion. Our fir wood
+comes in great quantities from Norway and
+Germany, where it is first cut and sawn into
+planks. Each plank is a <em>deal</em>&mdash;that is, a portion
+of the wood. It has been easy to leave out
+the article and call the wood <em>deal</em>.</p>
+
+<p>Our white deal comes from the firs, chiefly
+from the Norway spruce. The darker-coloured
+deal is the gift of the Scotch pine.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>127]</a></span>
+How can the great trees be carried from the
+mountain-tops, do you suppose? The streams
+are the carriers; they float the great trunks
+down to the rivers, where they are tied together
+in great rafts and floated on again to
+their new home, or to the seaport from which
+they can be shipped to foreign lands. Sometimes
+when the nearest stream is at a long distance
+from the trees, a wooden slide is made
+to it. In the winter, water is poured down the
+slide, and when it freezes the trees easily shoot
+down the slippery way to the stream. Oh,
+what fun it must be! You would like to be
+there to see. In the year 1810, when all Europe
+was at war with the great Emperor Napoleon,
+the deal traffic on the Baltic Sea was
+stopped. What was to be done? Near the
+Lake of Lucerne there is a high mountain,
+called Mont Pilate, covered with great forests
+of pine and fir. If these could only be cut
+down and brought to the lake, they could
+easily be floated down the Rhine to the sea.
+So a tremendous slide was made from Mont
+Pilate to the lake. It was six feet broad, and
+from three to six feet deep, and eight miles
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>128]</a></span>
+long, and twenty-five thousand pine trees were
+used in making it. When water had been
+poured down and had frozen, the great trunks
+were started one at a time. Away they shot,
+and reached the lake, eight miles off, in six
+minutes, and in wet weather, when the slide
+was very slippery, they were only three minutes
+on the way.</p>
+
+<p>Look at the deal planks on the floor of your
+room. Do you see those dark knots? They
+show you where once branches sprang out of
+the trunk. Many of these decayed and
+dropped off while quite young, and a little
+store of juice prepared for the branch gathered
+into the knot and turned it brown and
+dark. You will often find the knots in pairs,
+showing you how the branches grew opposite
+one another.</p>
+
+<p>These long straight lines in the plank that
+we call the <em>grain</em> show the rings of wood made
+by the pine tree year by year.</p>
+
+<p>How astonished you would be if suddenly
+out of that plank a great insect were to creep
+and spread out its wings. This sometimes
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>129]</a></span>
+happens, to the alarm of the people in the
+room, but only when the wood is new and has
+been used too soon, before it was properly
+dried and seasoned. The insect looks very
+formidable, for it has a long, pointed weapon
+at the end of its body, but it is quite harmless.
+It is called the <em>giant sirex</em>, and it looks something
+like a wasp or hornet. With its weapon
+it pierces holes in the pine tree bark and lays
+its eggs there. The grubs eat great tunnels in
+the trunk, and when they are full grown they
+creep nearly to the outside, and there wait till
+they are changed and their wings are ready before
+they creep out. Sometimes while they
+wait the tree is cut down and then they are
+either sawn in two or left inside the plank.</p>
+
+<p>We often see young fir trees in a very strange
+place, bearing wonderful fruit of gold and silver
+shining lights, and glittering toys.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">&ldquo;The fir tree stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In a beautiful room;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">A hundred tapers<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Dispelled the gloom.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>130]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">All decked with gold and silver was he,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lilies and roses so fair to see.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hurrah for the fir tree, the Christmas tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A prince in all the forests is he!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">The little children<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With merry shout<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Came crowding, clustering<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Round about.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Brighter and rounder grew their eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they gazed at the fir in glad surprise.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hurrah for the fir tree, the Christmas tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A prince in all the forests is he!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>131]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk2chap15" id="bk2chap15"></a>WHO LOVES THE TREES BEST?</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who loves trees best?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I,&rdquo; said the spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Their leaves so beautiful<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To them I bring.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who loves the trees best?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I,&rdquo; summer said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I give them blossoms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White, yellow, red.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who loves the trees best?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I,&rdquo; said the fall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I give luscious fruits,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright tints to all!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who loves the trees best?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I love them best,&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Harsh winter answered,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I give them rest.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"><!-- blank page --></a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"><!-- no visible page number --></a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="padtop"><a name="book3" id="book3"></a>CHRISTMAS EVERYWHERE</h2>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>134]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="padtop"><a name="bk3chap01" id="bk3chap01"></a>A CHRISTMAS SONG</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christmas in lands of fir tree and pine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christmas in lands of palm tree and vine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christmas where snow peaks stand solemn and white;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christmas where cornfields lie sunny and bright;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Christmas where children are hopeful and gay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christmas where old men are patient and grey;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christmas where peace like a dove in its flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Broods over brave men in the thick of the fight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Phillips Brooks.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>135]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap02" id="bk3chap02"></a>THE SHEPHERD MAIDEN&rsquo;S GIFT</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Eastern Legend)</p>
+
+
+<p>In the quiet midnight, peace brooded over the
+fields where the shepherds were watching
+their flocks. The tinkling of sheepbells, the
+bleating of lambs, and the barking of watchdogs
+had gradually ceased. Around a large
+campfire several shepherds lay resting, for
+they had had a long, hard day. Each had beside
+him a strong shepherd&rsquo;s crook and a stout
+club ready for use in case any lurking danger
+threatened the beloved flocks.</p>
+
+<p>Not far away from the campfire a shepherd
+maiden lay sleeping in the rude shelter of a
+rocky cave. All day long she had helped her
+father guard the sheep, and when darkness
+fell over the fields and hills, she was glad to lie
+down in her snug bed made of the fleecy skins
+of kids and lambs.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>136]</a></span>
+Suddenly a light filled the cave and wakened
+the maiden. Thinking it was daybreak,
+she sprang up, stepped to the rude doorway,
+and pushed aside the curtain of goatskin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What has happened?&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>The fields and hills were flooded with light.
+The group of shepherds were standing close
+together, gazing intently at the luminous eastern
+sky. A moment later she saw them fall on
+their knees in worship. There in the entrance
+of her rude shelter, she, too, knelt and prayed.
+Clearly she saw the shining angel appear and
+in the peaceful stillness of the night she heard
+these words:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Be not afraid; for, behold, I bring good
+tidings of great joy which shall be to all the
+people: for there is born to you this day, in
+the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ
+the Lord. And this shall be the sign unto you:
+ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling
+clothes and lying in a manger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And suddenly there was with the angel
+many, many others. Together they lifted up
+their voices in praise and sang,</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>137]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Glory to God in the highest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peace on earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Good will toward men.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>When the sweet music died away, the
+maiden rose to her feet and joined the shepherds.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw the angel, Father, and heard the
+singing,&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Christ, the Lord, is born,&rdquo; answered her
+father.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us hasten to Bethlehem and see the
+Heavenly Child who fulfills the promise of
+God,&rdquo; said one of the shepherds.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall we leave our flocks?&rdquo; asked another.
+But the question was not answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, let us see what gifts we have to carry
+to the Christ-child,&rdquo; said the shepherd who
+first saw the light in the sky.</p>
+
+<p>In a few moments these simple-hearted men
+were ready to start across the fields and over
+the low hills to Bethlehem. Very humble
+gifts they had to offer, but their hearts were
+filled with joy and wonder.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>138]</a></span>
+Standing near the entrance to the cave the
+shepherd maiden could see the outline of the
+group of men making their way to the city of
+David. &ldquo;They are going to see the Christ-child,&rdquo;
+she said to herself, &ldquo;a babe wrapped
+in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>How she would love to see the Heavenly
+Child! A deep longing to behold the little
+new-born King seized her. She would follow
+the shepherds to Bethlehem. One glimpse at
+the Christ-child would fill her heart with joy.</p>
+
+<p>Away over the star-lit fields and hills she
+started. Not once did she falter, although the
+way was long and some of the hillsides were
+hard to climb.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, she saw the shepherds pass in the
+gate of the city of Bethlehem.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I came to see the Christ-child,&rdquo; she said to
+a group of people who stood whispering together.
+They looked at her in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am following the shepherds,&rdquo; she added.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They have gone to the inn,&rdquo; was the answer.</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the inn she was directed
+to a cave near, which served as a stable.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>139]</a></span>
+There through the entrance she saw the
+shepherds lay their humble presents at Mary&rsquo;s
+feet and then kneel in solemn adoration.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have brought nothing to offer,&rdquo; whispered
+the maiden, looking wistfully into the
+rude shelter. &ldquo;I cannot go in without a gift&mdash;a
+little gift for the Christ-child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tears of disappointment filled her eyes.
+Slowly she turned to leave the place. But
+after she had taken a few steps she stopped
+and burst into sobs. How could she go away
+without a glimpse of the Heavenly Child?
+Then, as she stood weeping, a marvelous thing
+happened. An angel appeared beside her
+and said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lo, here at thy feet is a gift for the Christ-child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then she saw growing near her, slender
+stems covered with delicate green leaves and
+bearing lovely flowers.</p>
+
+<p>The maiden did not stop to wonder. Here
+was a gift fit to offer the little Saviour. With
+trembling joy she gathered the Christmas
+roses and stepped lightly into the humble
+house where the little babe lay smiling in his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>140]</a></span>
+mother&rsquo;s arms. In Mary&rsquo;s lap the maiden laid
+her gift of flowers, and, with radiant face, she
+knelt and filled her heart with the glorious
+vision.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>141]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap03" id="bk3chap03"></a>CHRISTMAS GIFTS</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Laura E. Richards</p>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother,&rdquo; said Jack, &ldquo;may I have some
+money to buy Christmas presents with?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear,&rdquo; said his mother, &ldquo;I have no money.
+We are very poor, and I can hardly buy
+enough food for us all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jack hung his head; if he had not been ten
+the tears would have come to his eyes, but he
+was ten.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All the other boys give presents!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So shall you!&rdquo; said his mother. &ldquo;All presents
+are not bought with money. The best boy
+that ever lived was as poor as we are, and yet
+He was always giving.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who was He,&rdquo; asked Jack; &ldquo;and what did
+He give?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is His birthday,&rdquo; said the mother.
+&ldquo;He was the good Jesus. He was born in a
+stable, and He lived in a poor working-man&rsquo;s
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>142]</a></span>
+house. He never had a penny of His own, yet
+he gave twelve good gifts every day. Would
+you like to try His way?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; cried Jack.</p>
+
+<p>So his mother told him this and that; and
+soon after Jack started out, dressed in his best
+suit, to give his presents.</p>
+
+<p>First, he went to Aunt Jane&rsquo;s house. She
+was old and lame, and she did not like boys.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Merry Christmas!&rdquo; said Jack. &ldquo;May I
+stay for an hour and help you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Aunt Jane. &ldquo;Want to keep
+you out of mischief, do they? Well, you may
+bring in some wood.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I split some kindling, too?&rdquo; asked
+Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you know how,&rdquo; said Aunt Jane. &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t have you cutting your foot and messing
+my clean shed all up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jack found some fresh pine wood and a
+bright hatchet, and he split up a great pile of
+kindling and thought it fun. He stacked it
+neatly, and then brought in a pail of fresh
+water and filled the kettle.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>143]</a></span>
+&ldquo;What else can I do?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;There
+are twenty minutes more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Aunt Jane. &ldquo;You might
+feed the pig.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jack fed the pig, who thanked him in his
+own way.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ten minutes more!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What
+shall I do now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Aunt Jane. &ldquo;You may sit
+down and tell me why you came.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a Christmas present!&rdquo; said Jack. &ldquo;I
+am giving hours for presents. I had twelve,
+but I gave one to mother, and another one was
+gone before I knew I had it. This hour was
+your present.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humph!&rdquo; said Aunt Jane. She hobbled
+to the cupboard and took out a small round
+pie that smelt very good. &ldquo;Here!&rdquo; she said.
+&ldquo;This is <em>your</em> present, and I thank you for
+mine. Come again, will you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed I will,&rdquo; said Jack, &ldquo;and thank you
+for the pie!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Next Jack went and read for an hour to
+old Mr. Green, who was blind. He read a
+book about the sea, and they both liked it very
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>144]</a></span>
+much, so the hour went quickly. Then it was
+time to help mother get dinner, and then time
+to eat it; that took two hours, and Aunt Jane&rsquo;s
+pie was wonderful. Then Jack took the Smith
+baby for a ride in its carriage, as Mrs. Smith
+was ill, and they met its grandfather, who
+filled Jack&rsquo;s pockets with candy and popcorn
+and invited him to a Christmas tree that night.</p>
+
+<p>Next Jack went to see Willy Brown, who
+had been ill for a long time and could not leave
+his bed. Willy was very glad to see him; they
+played a game, and then each told the other a
+story, and before Jack knew it the clock struck
+six.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; cried Jack. &ldquo;You have had two!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two what?&rdquo; asked Willy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two hours!&rdquo; said Jack; and he told Willy
+about the presents he was giving. &ldquo;I am glad
+I gave you two,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and I would give
+you three, but I must go and help mother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, dear!&rdquo; said Willy. &ldquo;I thank you very
+much, Jack. I have had a perfectly great
+time; but I have nothing to give you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Jack laughed. &ldquo;Why, don&rsquo;t you see?&rdquo; he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>145]</a></span>
+cried; &ldquo;you have given me just the same thing.
+I have had a great time, too.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mother,&rdquo; said Jack, as he was going to
+bed, &ldquo;I have had a splendid Christmas, but
+I wish I had had something to give you besides
+the hours.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My darling,&rdquo; said his mother, &ldquo;you have
+given me the best gift of all&mdash;yourself!&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>146]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap04" id="bk3chap04"></a>SILVER BELLS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Across the snow the Silver Bells<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come near and yet more near;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each Day and Night, each Night and Day<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They tinkle soft and clear.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&rsquo;Tis Father Christmas on his way<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Across the winter Snows;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While on his sleigh the Silver Bells<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Keep chiming as he goes.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I listen for them in the Night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I listen all the Day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I think these merry Silver Bells<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are long, long on the way!<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Hamish Hendry.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>147]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap05" id="bk3chap05"></a>THE ANIMALS&rsquo; CHRISTMAS TREE</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">John P. Peters</p>
+
+
+<p>Once upon a time the animals decided to have
+a Christmas tree, and this was how it came
+about: The swifts and the swallows in the
+chimneys in the country houses, awakened
+from their sleep by joy and laughter, had
+stolen down and peeped in upon scenes of happiness,
+the center of which was always an
+evergreen tree covered with wonderful fruit,
+bright balls of many colours, and sparkling
+threads of gold and silver, lying like beautiful
+frost-work among the green fir needles.
+A sweet, fairy-like figure of a Christ Child or
+an angel rested high among the branches, and
+underneath the tree were dolls and sleds and
+skates and drums and toys of every sort, and
+furs and gloves and tippets, ribbons and handkerchiefs,
+and all the things that boys and
+girls need and like; and all about this tree
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>148]</a></span>
+were gathered always little children with
+faces&mdash;oh! so full of wonderment and expectation,
+changing to radiant, sparkling merriment
+as toys and candies were taken off the
+tree or from underneath its boughs and distributed
+among them.</p>
+
+<p>The swifts and swallows told their feathered
+friends all about it, and they told others, both
+birds and animals, until at last it began to be
+rumoured through all the animal world that
+on one day in the year the children of men
+were made wonderfully happy by means of
+some sort of festival which they held about a
+fir tree from the forest. Now, of course, the
+tame animals and the house animals, the dogs
+and the cats and the mice, knew something
+more about this festival. But then, they did
+not exchange visits with the wild animals, because
+they felt themselves above them.</p>
+
+<p>They were always trying to be like men and
+women, you know, putting on airs and pretending
+to know everything; but, after all, they
+were animals and could not help making
+friendships now and then with the wild creatures,
+especially when the men and women
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>149]</a></span>
+were not there. And when they were asked
+about the Christmas tree, they told still more
+wonderful stories than the swifts and the swallows
+from the chimneys had told, for some of
+them had taken part in these festivals, and
+some had even received presents from the tree,
+just like the children.</p>
+
+<p>They said that the tree was called a Christmas
+tree, because that strange fruit and that
+wonderful frosting came on it only in the
+Christmas time, and that the Christmas time
+was the time when men and women and little
+children, too, were always kind and good and
+loving, and gave things to one another; and
+they said, moreover, that on the Christmas
+tree grew the things which every one wanted,
+and which would make them happy, and that
+it was so, because in the Christmas time everyone
+was trying to make everyone else happy
+and to think of what other people would like.
+This they said was what they had seen and
+heard told about Christmas trees. They did
+not quite understand why it was so, but they
+knew that the Christmas tree, when rightly
+made, brought the Christmas spirit, and they
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>150]</a></span>
+had heard men say that the Christmas spirit
+was the great thing, and that that was what
+made everyone happy.</p>
+
+<p>Well, the long and the short of it was that
+the animals talked of it in their dens and on
+their roosts, in the fields, and in the forests,
+wild beasts and tame alike&mdash;the cows and the
+horses in their stalls, the sheep in their fold,
+the doves in their cotes and the poultry in the
+poultry-yard, until all agreed that a Christmas
+tree would be a grand thing for the wild
+and tame alike. Like the men, they, too,
+would have a tree of their very own. But how
+to do it?</p>
+
+<p>Then the lion called a meeting of all the
+creatures, wild and tame; for you know the
+lion is king of beasts and when he calls they
+all must come. You know, too, that before
+and during and after these animal congresses
+there is a royal peace. The lamb can come to
+the meeting and sit down by the wolf, and
+the wolf dare not touch him; the dove may
+perch on the bough between the hawk and the
+owl and neither will harm him, when the great
+king of beasts has summoned them all together
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>151]</a></span>
+to take counsel. But you know all about the
+rules of the animals, for you have read them
+in books, and you have seen the pictures: how
+the lion sits on his throne with a crown on one
+side of his head, and all the other creatures
+gather about&mdash;the elephant, and giraffe, the
+hippopotamus, the buffalo, wolves and tigers
+and leopards, foxes and deer, goats and sheep,
+monkeys and orang-outangs, parrots and robins
+and turkeys and swans and storks and
+eagles and frogs and lizards and alligators,
+and all the rest besides.</p>
+
+<p>Then, when the lion had called the meeting
+to order, the swifts and the swallows told what
+they had seen, and a fat little pug-dog, with a
+ribbon and a silver bell about his neck,
+wheezed out a story of a Christmas tree that
+he had seen, and how a silver bell had grown
+on that tree for him and a whole box of the
+best sweets he had ever dreamed of while he
+lay comfortably snoozing on his cushion before
+the fire. And a Persian cat, with her hair
+turned the wrong way, mewed out her story
+of a Christmas tree that she had attended, and
+told how there was a white mouse made of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>152]</a></span>
+cream cheese for her creeping about beneath
+the branches.</p>
+
+<p>Then the monkeys chattered and the elephants
+trumpeted, the horses neighed, the hyenas
+laughed, and each in his own way argued
+for a Christmas tree and told what he would
+do to help make it.</p>
+
+<p>The elephant would go into the forest, and
+choose the tree and pull it up. The buffaloes
+would drag it in. The giraffe would fix the
+ornaments on the higher limbs, because its
+neck was long. The monkeys would scramble
+up where the giraffe could not reach. The
+squirrels could run out on the slender twigs
+and help the monkeys. The birds would fly
+about and get the golden threads and put them
+on the tree with their beaks. The fire-flies
+would hide themselves among the branches
+and sparkle like diamonds, and the glow-worms
+promised to help the fire-flies by playing
+candles, if someone would lift them up
+and put them on the branches. The parrots
+and paroquets and other birds of gay plumage
+would give feathers to hang among the
+branches, and the humming-birds promised to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>153]</a></span>
+flutter in and out among the twigs, and the
+sheep to give white wool to lie like snow
+among the boughs.</p>
+
+<p>Then the parrots screeched and the peacocks
+screamed with delight, and you and I never
+could have told whether anybody voted aye or
+nay; but the lion knew; and the owl, for he
+was clerk, set it down in the minutes, as the
+lion bade him, that all the birds and beasts
+would do their part. So each planned what
+he could do. Even the little beetle, who makes
+great balls of earth, thought that if he could
+only once see one of those gay balls that grow
+on the children&rsquo;s Christmas tree, he might
+make some for the animals&rsquo; tree. Different
+birds and beasts told of the oranges and apples
+and holly-berries and who knows what they
+could get and hang upon the tree. You see
+the animals came from many places, and then,
+too, they could send the carrier pigeons to go
+and bring fruit and berries, and who knows
+what besides, from oh, so far away, because the
+carrier pigeons can fly through the air no one
+knows how fast or how far.</p>
+
+<p>Well, I cannot tell you everything that each
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>154]</a></span>
+one was going to do, but if you will go and
+get your Noah&rsquo;s ark and take the animals out
+one by one, then you surely will think it out
+for yourself, for you have all the animals
+there.</p>
+
+<p>And so they arranged how they would ornament
+the tree, and the next thing was to decide
+what presents should be hung on the tree
+or put beneath its boughs, for each one must
+have his present. Well, after much discussion
+in roars, and bellows, crows and croaks, lows
+and screams and bleats, and baas and grunts,
+and all the other sounds of birds and beast language,
+it was voted that each might choose the
+present he wished hung on the tree. The
+clerkly owl should call their names one by one,
+and each might declare his choice. So they
+began. The parrots and the macaws thought
+that they would like oranges and bananas and
+such things, which would look so pretty on the
+tree, too; and so they were arranged for. The
+robins and the cedar birds chose cherries; the
+the partridges, partridge berries, the squirrels,
+the red and grey and black, nuts and apples
+and pears. The monkeys said the popcorn
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>155]</a></span>
+strings would do for them, and the cats and
+dogs, remembering the Christmas gift which
+the pug-dog and Persian cat had told about,
+asked for tiny mice made of cream cheese or
+chocolate. By and by it came the pig&rsquo;s turn to
+tell his choice. &ldquo;Grunt, grunt!&rdquo; said the pig,
+&ldquo;I want a nice pail of swill hung on the very
+lowest bough of all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ugh!&rdquo; said the black leopard, so sleek and
+so clean.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Faugh!&rdquo; said the gazelle, with his dainty
+sense of smell.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Neigh!&rdquo; said the horse, so daintily
+groomed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What!&rdquo; roared the lion, &ldquo;what&rsquo;s that you
+want?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A pail of swill,&rdquo; grunted the pig. &ldquo;Each
+one has chosen what he wants, and I have a
+right to choose what I want.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; roared the lion, &ldquo;each one has chosen
+something beautiful to make the tree a joy to
+all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Grunt, grunt,&rdquo; said the pig. &ldquo;The parrots
+and macaws are going to have oranges and bananas,
+and the robins and the cedar birds red
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>156]</a></span>
+cherries, the partridges, their berries, the
+squirrels, nuts and apples and pears, the dog
+and the cat, their cream and chocolate mice.
+They all have what they want to eat. Grunt,
+grunt,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;I will have what I want to
+eat, too, and what I want is a pail of swill.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now, you see it had been voted, as I told
+you, that each should have what he wanted
+hung on the tree for him, and so the lion could
+not help himself. If the pig chose swill, swill
+he must have, and angrily he had to roar: &ldquo;If
+the pig wants swill, a pail of swill he must
+have, hung on the lowest bough of the tree!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the wolf&rsquo;s wicked eyes gleamed, for
+his turn was next, and he said: &ldquo;If the pig has
+swill because he wants swill to eat, I must have
+what I want to eat, and I want a tender lamb,
+six months old.&rdquo; And at that all the lambs and
+the sheep bleated and baaed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ha, ha!&rdquo; barked the fox; &ldquo;then I want
+a turkey!&rdquo; And the turkeys gobbled in
+fear.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I,&rdquo; said the tiger, &ldquo;want a yearling
+calf.&rdquo; And the cows and the calves lowed in
+horror.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>157]</a></span>
+&ldquo;And I,&rdquo; said the owl, the clerk, &ldquo;I want a
+plump dove.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I,&rdquo; said the hawk, &ldquo;will take a rabbit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I,&rdquo; said the leopard, &ldquo;want a deer or
+a gazelle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then all was fear and uproar. The hares
+and rabbits scuttled into the grass; the gazelles
+and the deer bounded away; the sheep and the
+cattle crowded close together; the small birds
+rose in the air in flocks; and the Christmas tree
+was like to have come to grief and ended,
+not in Christmas joy, but in fear and hatred
+and terror.</p>
+
+<p>Then a little lamb stepped out and bleated:
+&ldquo;Ah! king lion, it would be very sad if all the
+animals should lose their Christmas tree, for
+the very thought of that tree has brought us
+closer together, and here we were, wild and
+tame, fierce and timid, met together as
+friends; and oh! king lion, rather than there
+should not be a tree, they may take me and
+hang me on it. Let them not take the turkeys
+and gazelles and the calves and the rabbits
+and all the rest that they have chosen. Let the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>158]</a></span>
+tigers and leopards, and wolves and foxes and
+eagles, and hawks and owls and all their kind
+be content that their Christmas present shall
+be a lamb; and so we may come together again
+and have our happy Christmas tree, and each
+have what he wishes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said the lion, &ldquo;what will you have?
+If you give yourself, then you will have no
+Christmas present.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the lamb, &ldquo;I, too, shall have
+what I want, for I shall have brought them all
+together again, and made each one happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then a dove fluttered down from a tree and
+landed on the ground beside the lamb, and
+very timidly and softly she cooed: &ldquo;Take me,
+too, king lion, as the present for the owls and
+the hawks, and the weasels and minks, because
+for them a lamb is too big. I am the best present
+for them. Take me, king lion!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the lion roared: &ldquo;See what the lamb
+and the dove have done! My food, oh, tigers
+and leopards and wolves and eagles and all
+your kind, is like your food; but I would
+rather eat nothing from our Christmas tree
+than take this lamb or dove for my present.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>159]</a></span>
+Then all the beasts kept still, because the
+lion roared so loud and angrily, and the birds
+that were flying away settled on the branches
+of the trees, and the gazelles stopped their
+running and turned their heads to listen, and
+the rabbits peeped out through the grass and
+brush where they had hid. Then the lion
+turned to the pig, and roared:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See this lamb and this dove! Are you not
+ashamed for what you have done? You have
+spoiled all our happiness. Will you take back
+your choice, you pig, or do you wish to ruin
+our Christmas tree?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Grunt, grunt,&rdquo; said the pig, &ldquo;it is my right.
+I want something good. I don&rsquo;t care for your
+lambs and your doves. I want my swill!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the lion roared again: &ldquo;Have all
+chosen?&rdquo; and all answered, &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said the lion, &ldquo;it is my choice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And all said: &ldquo;It is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I love fat and tender pigs. I choose a pig
+for my Christmas gift,&rdquo; roared the lion.</p>
+
+<p>Did you ever hear a pig squeal? Oh, how
+that pig squealed then! And he got up on his
+fat little legs and tried to run away, but all
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>160]</a></span>
+the animals gathered around in a ring and the
+hyenas laughed, and the jackals cried, and the
+dogs and the wolves and the foxes headed him
+off and hunted the poor pig back again.
+Then, when the pig found that he could not
+run away, he lay down on his back with his
+feet in the air and squealed with all his might:
+&ldquo;Oh, I don&rsquo;t want the swill; oh, I don&rsquo;t want
+the swill! I take it all back! I don&rsquo;t want
+anything!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But at first no one heard him, because all
+were talking at once in their own way&mdash;barking
+and growling and roaring and chattering;
+but by and by the lion saw that the pig was
+squealing something, so he roared for silence,
+and then they all heard the pig squeal out that
+he did not want any swill. And the lion
+roared aloud: &ldquo;You have heard. Has the owl
+recorded that the pig will have no swill?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the owl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said the lion, &ldquo;record that the lion
+wants no pig.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the tiger growled: &ldquo;And I want no
+calf,&rdquo; and one by one the leopard and the
+eagle, the wolf and the fox, the hawk and owl,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>161]</a></span>
+and all their kind, took back their votes.</p>
+
+<p>And so it came about that the animals did
+have a Christmas tree after all; but instead of
+hanging lambs and doves upon the tree, they
+agreed that they could hang little images of
+lambs and doves, and other birds and animals,
+too, perhaps. And by and by the custom
+spread until the humans came to hang the
+same little images on their trees, too, and when
+you see a little figure of a lamb or a dove on
+the Christmas tree, you may know that it is all
+because the lamb and the dove, by their unselfishness,
+saved the animals from strife; for
+neither thought what he wanted from the tree,
+but each was ready to give himself for the others,
+so that they might not fight and kill one
+another at the Christmas time.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>162]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap06" id="bk3chap06"></a>A CHRISTMAS CAROL</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Shepherds had an Angel,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The Wise Men had a star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But what have I, a little child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To guide me home from far,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where glad stars sing together<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And singing angels are?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Those Shepherds through the lonely night<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Sat watching by their sheep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Until they saw the heavenly host<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who neither tire nor sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All singing &ldquo;Glory, glory,&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In festival they keep.<br /></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Wise Men left their country<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To journey morn by morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With gold and frankincense and myrrh,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>163]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">Because the Lord was born:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God sent a star to guide them<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sent a dream to warn.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My life is like their journey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their star is like God&rsquo;s book;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I must be like those good Wise Men<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With heavenward heart and look:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But shall I give no gifts to God?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What precious gifts they took!<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Christina Rossetti.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>164]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap07" id="bk3chap07"></a>HOLLY</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Ada M. Marzials</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Highty-tighty, Paradighty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cloth&egrave;d all in green.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The King could not read it<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more could the Queen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They sent for a Wise Man out of the East,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who said it had horns but was not a beast.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">(<i>Old Riddle.</i>)<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>There was once upon a time a very war-like
+kingdom where they had never heard of
+Christmas. The men spent all their days
+fighting, and the women spent <em>their</em> days in
+urging the warriors to further deeds of valour.</p>
+
+<p>This had gone on for a very long time, and
+no one had ever yet said that he was tired
+of it. There was but one person in the whole
+kingdom who had openly declared that war
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>165]</a></span>
+was hateful, but as she was only the Youngest
+Princess nobody paid any heed to her.</p>
+
+<p>Then came a time, just before our Christmas
+Day, when the King was preparing a
+great campaign against a far-off country. He
+called together his Council of War&mdash;grave old
+warriors, dressed completely in armour.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My friends,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;we are about to
+wage war on the distant kingdoms of Zowega.
+Up till this time the people of that country
+have been our very good friends, but as we
+have now conquered all our enemies, there
+seems no one but our friends left to fight,
+and of these the King of the Zowegians is
+chief.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will remember that his youngest son,
+Prince Moldo, spent some of his boyhood at
+our court in order to gain instruction in feats
+of arms, and that the Prince left us to travel
+over the world. A few months ago his father
+sent word to me that the Prince had returned
+home, bringing with him the news of a Pearl
+of Great Price, which contained the Secret of
+Happiness. It is this Pearl which I have
+made the excuse for war, for I have demanded
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>166]</a></span>
+it in payment for the services that we rendered
+to Prince Moldo. In my message I have said
+that if the Pearl, and the Secret which it contains,
+are not brought and revealed to us here
+within the next five days, our troops will descend
+upon the kingdom of Zowega and wipe
+it off the face of the earth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Loud and long cheered the Council at the
+speech of their King, as, indeed, was their
+duty, though in their hearts of hearts they had
+no wish to fight against the King of the Zowegians,
+who was their very good friend. The
+Queen and the Princesses smiled graciously
+upon them, all save the Youngest Princess,
+who had been Prince Moldo&rsquo;s playfellow. She
+disgraced herself by bursting into passionate
+tears, and was forthwith ordered out of the
+Council Hall.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of five days the Council once
+more assembled to await the arrival of the
+messenger with the answer from the King of
+Zowega.</p>
+
+<p>The day was bright and cold, and there was
+snow on the ground. The King and Queen
+were wrapped in thick fur cloaks. The
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>167]</a></span>
+Princesses were all assembled, too, even the Youngest,
+who was dressed in ermine and looked as
+pale as death.</p>
+
+<p>It was Christmas Eve, but there were no
+Christmas trees preparing and no presents.
+No one was thinking of hanging his stockings
+up. The Hall was not decorated, neither
+were the churches; indeed, there were no
+churches to decorate, for, as you remember,
+the people in this kingdom knew nothing
+about Christmas.</p>
+
+<p>The Council sat and waited in the big bare
+Hall.</p>
+
+<p>At last the great doors were flung open,
+there was a blast of trumpets, and the messenger
+appeared.</p>
+
+<p>He was tall and fair, and held himself
+proudly. His eyes were bright and shining
+and there was a smile upon his face. He was
+completely dressed in bright green and the
+Council noted with astonishment that he was
+without armour of any kind. He wore neither
+breastplate, shield nor helmet; he had neither
+sword by his side, nor spurs on his feet. He
+was bare-headed, and in his right hand he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>168]</a></span>
+carried something green, horny and prickly, with
+little red dots on it.</p>
+
+<p>Looking neither to the right nor to the left,
+he walked with firm and steady step up the
+long Hall between the rows of armed warriors.</p>
+
+<p>As he passed the Youngest Princess she
+blushed deeply, but he did not seem to notice
+her.</p>
+
+<p>When he reached the throne he bowed low
+before the King and Queen, and laid the
+prickly object on the table before them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your Majesty,&rdquo; said he in a clear, ringing
+voice. &ldquo;From the King of Zowega, greeting!
+He sends you this token. It is the symbol of
+the Secret of Happiness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The King stared, so did the Queen.</p>
+
+<p>They had expected a Pearl of Great Price,
+accompanied by a scroll on which was written
+the Secret of Happiness, and the King of
+Zowega had sent them <em>this</em>!</p>
+
+<p>Amid dead silence the King took the token
+up in his hands in order to examine it more
+carefully.</p>
+
+<p>He dropped it hastily, for it pricked him,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>169]</a></span>
+and little drops of blood were seen starting
+from his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Highty-tighty!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;&rsquo;Tis surely
+some kind of beast and a symbol of war, for
+it pricked me right smartly. Truly the King
+of Zowega deals in riddles which I for one
+cannot read! Take it, my dear,&rdquo; added he to
+the Queen and pointing to the token; &ldquo;perchance
+your quick wits may be able to understand
+this mystery.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She picked up the token and examined it
+carefully.</p>
+
+<p>It rather resembled the branch of a tree, but
+the leaves were thick and resisting and edged
+with very sharp spikes, and there was on it a
+cluster of round, bright red objects like tiny
+balls. But even as it had pricked the King
+so did it prick her, and she dropped it hastily
+into the lap of the Eldest Princess, who was
+sitting beside her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Paradighty!&rdquo; exclaimed the Queen in her
+own language. &ldquo;It is certainly a beast. See,
+it has horns!&rdquo; and she pointed to the spikes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I certainly cannot read the riddle&mdash;if
+riddle it be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>170]</a></span>
+Then it was passed to all the Princesses in
+turn, but they could not read the token any
+more than could the King and Queen. At
+last it reached the Youngest Princess, and,
+though it pricked her little hands sorely, she
+took it up tenderly and kissed it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Tis a token of love,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+
+<p>The messenger turned his shining eyes full
+upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Princess has read the riddle of the
+token aright,&rdquo; said he, and he stepped forward
+as though to kiss her hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stay!&rdquo; said the King imperiously springing
+to his feet. &ldquo;A token of love, forsooth!
+But I sent the King of Zowega a Declaration
+of War! What does he mean by sending me a
+token of love? The Princess must certainly
+be mistaken&mdash;and as for <em>you</em>,&rdquo; he continued,
+turning fiercely to the messenger, &ldquo;you shall be
+marched off to prison until we have had time
+to consult with our Wise Men as to the real
+meaning of this extraordinary token.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So there and then the messenger was
+marched off to spend the night in prison, and
+all the Wise Men in the kingdom were bidden
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>171]</a></span>
+to appear in the Council Chamber the very
+next day, especially one very old Wise Man
+from the East who was reputed to be wiser
+than all the others put together.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, of course, was Christmas
+Day, but, as these people had never heard of
+Christmas, there were no bells ringing, no
+carols were sung, and there was neither holly,
+ivy nor mistletoe upon the walls.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly and painfully the Wise Men began
+to arrive.</p>
+
+<p>They were all dressed alike, in black flowing
+robes, and on their heads they wore
+long pointed black caps covered with weird
+devices.</p>
+
+<p>The very old Wise Man from the East wore
+a red pointed cap, but in all other respects was
+dressed just like the others.</p>
+
+<p>They assembled round a large circular table
+at one end of the Hall. In the middle of the
+table was placed the token.</p>
+
+<p>At the other end of the Hall were gathered
+the warriors, and above them on a double
+throne sat the King and Queen with the Princesses
+grouped on either side of the dais.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>172]</a></span>
+The Wise Men examined the token in
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Tis a curious beast,&rdquo; said one of them at
+last.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of a new and quite unheard-of species,&rdquo;
+said another.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It has neither legs nor tail,&rdquo; said a third.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yet it has a number of globular red eyes,&rdquo;
+said a fourth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And it certainly has horns,&rdquo; said a fifth.</p>
+
+<p>And so said they all, until it came to the turn
+of the very old Wise Man from the East.</p>
+
+<p>He looked long at the token.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It has horns,&rdquo; said he at last, &ldquo;but it is not a
+beast.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a beast!&rdquo; said they, one to the other.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what is it then?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a token of love,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Highty-tighty,&rdquo; interrupted the King.
+&ldquo;Read us then the full meaning of the token.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot,&rdquo; said the very old Wise Man;
+&ldquo;but let the youth be brought hither who carried
+it. He will be able to explain it more
+fully than I.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Paradighty!&rdquo; said the Queen in her own
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>173]</a></span>
+language. &ldquo;Why did we not think of that
+before! Fetch him back again at once!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So two of the warriors fetched the youth
+from prison, and he was soon standing before
+the Assembly, with his head held as high and
+his eyes as bright and shining as before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Read us the token!&rdquo; commanded the King.</p>
+
+<p>The youth bowed low. &ldquo;The Princess read
+it aright yesterday. It is a token of love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Explain yourself!&rdquo; said the King. &ldquo;How
+can a beast with horns be a token of love?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The youth drew himself up to his full
+height.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not a beast,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;It is the branch
+of a holly-tree. On this day of the year, which
+in my country we call Christmas Day, our
+people decorate their houses with branches of
+this holly or holy tree as a token of love and
+peace and good-will. This is the message that
+I have brought to you&mdash;a message that we in
+our country know very well, but which you
+have never heard before.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The King and the Warriors, the Wise Men,
+the Queen and Princesses all listened to his
+words in silence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>174]</a></span>
+When he had ended there was a long
+pause.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And in what particular way does your
+message affect us?&rdquo; said the King at last.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thus, your Majesty,&rdquo; answered the youth,
+approaching the Youngest Princess and taking
+both her hands in his, &ldquo;on this day I, Prince
+Moldo, would have peace and good-will between
+my kingdom and your kingdom; and
+I would seal it for ever by taking the Youngest
+Princess home with me as my bride. You,
+O King, recognized me not, for I have much
+changed since I lived here with her for playfellow,
+but in all my wanderings I found a
+Pearl of no greater price than this, and I
+would proclaim to all the world that the
+Secret of Happiness is Love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So on that very Christmas Day they were
+married, amid great rejoicings, and war
+ceased throughout the kingdom. And on
+every Christmas Day for ever after, the people
+of that country decorated their houses with
+holly, the symbol of love and peace and good-will,
+and wished each other a Merry Christmas,
+even as I do now to you.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>175]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap08" id="bk3chap08"></a>THE WILLOW MAN</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There once was a Willow, and he was very old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all his leaves fell off from him, and left him in the cold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ere the rude winter could buffet him with snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There grew upon his hoary head a crop of Mistletoe.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All wrinkled and furrowed was this old Willow&rsquo;s skin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His taper fingers trembled, and his arms were very thin;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Two round eyes and hollow, that stared but did not see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And sprawling feet that never walked, had this most ancient tree.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>176]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">A Dame who dwelt a-near was the only one who knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That every year upon his head the Christmas berries grew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when the Dame cut them, she said&mdash;it was her whim&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;A merry Christmas to you, Sir,&rdquo; <em>and left a bit for him</em>.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Oh, Granny dear, tell us,&rdquo; the children cried, &ldquo;where we<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May find the shining mistletoe that grows upon the tree?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At length the Dame told them, but cautioned them to mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To greet the willow civilly, <em>and leave a bit behind</em>.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Who cares,&rdquo; said the children, &ldquo;for this old Willow-man?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We&rsquo;ll take the Mistletoe, and he may catch us if he can.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With rage the ancient Willow shakes in every limb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For they have taken all, and <em>have not left a bit for him</em>.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>177]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Then bright gleamed the holly, the Christmas berries shone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in the wintry wind, without the Willow-man did moan:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Ungrateful, and wasteful! the mystic Mistletoe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A hundred years hath grown on me, but never more shall grow.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A year soon passed by, and the children came once more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But not a sprig of Mistletoe the aged Willow bore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each slender spray pointed; he mocked them in his glee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And chuckled in his wooden heart, that ancient Willow-tree.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O children, who gather the spoils of wood and wold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From selfish greed and wilful waste your little hands withhold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though fair things be common, this moral bear in mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Pick thankfully and modestly, <em>and leave a bit behind</em>.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Juliana Horatia Ewing.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>178]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap09" id="bk3chap09"></a>THE IVY GREEN</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That creepeth o&rsquo;er ruins old!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In his cell so lone and cold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To pleasure his dainty whim;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the mouldering dust that years have made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is a merry meal for him.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Creeping where no life is seen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A rare old plant is the ivy green.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Charles Dickens.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>179]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap10" id="bk3chap10"></a>LEGEND OF SAINT NICHOLAS</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Amy Steedman</p>
+
+
+<p>Of all the saints that little children love is
+there any to compare with Santa Claus? The
+very sound of his name has magic in it, and
+calls up visions of well-filled stockings, with
+the presents we particularly want peeping
+over the top, or hanging out at the side, too
+big to go into the largest sock. Besides, there
+is something so mysterious and exciting about
+Santa Claus, for no one seems to have ever
+seen him. But we picture him to ourselves as
+an old man with a white beard, whose favourite
+way of coming into our rooms is down
+the chimney, bringing gifts for the good children
+and punishments for the bad.</p>
+
+<p>Yet this Santa Claus, in whose name the
+presents come to us at Christmas time, is a
+very real saint, and we can learn a great deal
+about him, only we must remember that his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>180]</a></span>
+true name is Saint Nicholas. Perhaps the
+little children, who used to talk of him long
+ago, found Saint Nicholas too difficult to say,
+and so called him their dear Santa Claus. But
+we learn, as we grow older, that Nicholas is
+his true name, and that he is a real person who
+lived long years ago, far away in the East.</p>
+
+<p>The father and mother of Nicholas were
+noble and very rich, but what they wanted
+most of all was to have a son. They were
+Christians, so they prayed to God for many
+years that He would give them their hearts&rsquo;
+desire; and when at last Nicholas was born,
+they were the happiest people in the world.</p>
+
+<p>They thought there was no one like their
+boy; and indeed, he was wiser and better than
+most children, and never gave them a moment&rsquo;s
+trouble. But alas, while he was still a
+child, a terrible plague swept over the country,
+and his father and mother died, leaving
+him quite alone.</p>
+
+<p>All the great riches which his father had
+possessed were left to Nicholas, and among
+other things he inherited three bars of gold.
+These golden bars were his greatest treasure,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>181]</a></span>
+and he thought more of them than all the
+other riches he possessed.</p>
+
+<p>Now in the town where Nicholas lived
+there dwelt a nobleman with three daughters.
+They had once been very rich, but great misfortunes
+had overtaken the father, and now
+they were all so poor they had scarcely enough
+to live upon.</p>
+
+<p>At last a day came when there was not even
+bread enough to eat, and the daughters said
+to their father:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us go into the streets and beg, or do
+anything to get a little money, that we may
+not starve.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the father answered:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not to-night. I cannot bear to think of it.
+Wait at least until to-morrow. Something
+may happen to save my daughters from such
+disgrace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now, just as they were talking together,
+Nicholas happened to be passing, and as the
+window was open he heard all that the poor
+father said. It seemed terrible to think that
+a noble family should be so poor and actually
+in want of bread, and Nicholas tried to plan
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>182]</a></span>
+how it would be possible to help them. He
+knew they would be much too proud to take
+money from him, so he had to think of some
+other way. Then he remembered his golden
+bars, and that very night he took one of them
+and went secretly to the nobleman&rsquo;s house,
+hoping to give the treasure without letting
+the father or daughters know who brought it.</p>
+
+<p>To his joy Nicholas discovered that a little
+window had been left open, and by standing
+on tiptoe he could reach it. So he lifted the
+golden bar and slipped it through the window,
+never waiting to hear what became of it, in
+case any one should see him. (And now do
+you see the reason why the visits of Santa
+Claus are so mysterious?)</p>
+
+<p>Inside the house the poor father sat sorrowfully
+watching, while his children slept. He
+wondered if there was any hope for them anywhere,
+and he prayed earnestly that heaven
+would send help. Suddenly something fell at
+his feet, and to his amazement and joy, he
+found it was a bar of pure gold.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My child,&rdquo; he cried, as he showed his
+eldest daughter the shining gold, &ldquo;God has
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>183]</a></span>
+heard my prayer and has sent this from
+heaven. Now we shall have enough and to
+spare. Call your sisters that we may rejoice
+together, and I will go instantly and change
+this treasure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The precious golden bar was soon sold to a
+money-changer, who gave so much for it that
+the family were able to live in comfort and
+have all that they needed. And not only was
+there enough to live upon, but so much was
+over that the father gave his eldest daughter
+a large dowry, and very soon she was happily
+married.</p>
+
+<p>When Nicholas saw how much happiness
+his golden bar had brought to the poor nobleman
+he determined that the second daughter
+should have a dowry too. So he went as before
+and found the little window again open,
+and was able to throw in the second golden
+bar as he had done the first. This time the
+father was dreaming happily, and did not find
+the treasure until he awoke in the morning.
+Soon afterwards the second daughter had her
+dowry and was married too.</p>
+
+<p>The father now began to think that, after
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>184]</a></span>
+all, it was not usual for golden bars to fall
+from heaven, and he wondered if by any
+chance human hands had placed them in his
+room. The more he thought of it the stranger
+it seemed, and he made up his mind to keep
+watch every night, in case another golden bar
+should be sent as a portion for his youngest
+daughter.</p>
+
+<p>And so when Nicholas went the third time
+and dropped the last bar through the little
+window, the father came quickly out, and before
+Nicholas had time to hide, caught him
+by his cloak.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O Nicholas,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;is it thou who hast
+helped us in our need? Why didst thou hide
+thyself?&rdquo; And then he fell on his knees and
+began to kiss the hands that had helped him so
+graciously.</p>
+
+<p>But Nicholas bade him stand up and give
+thanks to God instead, warning him to tell no
+one the story of the golden bars.</p>
+
+<p>This was only one of the many kind acts
+Nicholas loved to do, and it was no wonder
+that he was beloved by all who knew him.</p>
+
+<p>Soon afterwards Nicholas made up his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>185]</a></span>
+mind to enter God&rsquo;s service as a priest. He
+longed above all things to leave the world and
+live as a hermit in the desert, but God came
+to him in a vision and told him he must stay
+in the crowded cities and do his work among
+the people. Still his desire to see the deserts
+and the hermits who lived there was so great
+that he went off on a journey to Egypt and
+the Holy Land. But remembering what God
+had bade him do he did not stay there but
+returned to his own country.</p>
+
+<p>On the way home a terrific storm arose, and
+it seemed as if the ship he was in must be
+lost. The sailors could do nothing, and great
+waves dashed over the deck, filling the ship
+with water. But just as all had given up hope,
+Nicholas knelt and prayed to God to save
+them, and immediately a calm fell upon the
+angry sea. The winds sank to rest and the
+waves ceased to lash the sides of the ship so
+that they sailed smoothly on, and all danger
+passed.</p>
+
+<p>Thus Nicholas returned home in safety, and
+went to live in the city of Myra. His ways
+were so quiet and humble that no one knew
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>186]</a></span>
+much about him, until it came to pass one
+day that the Archbishop of Myra died.
+Then all the priests met to choose another
+archbishop, and it was made known to them
+by a sign from heaven that the first man who
+should enter the church next morning should
+be the bishop whom God had chosen.</p>
+
+<p>Now Nicholas used to spend most of his
+nights in prayer and always went very early
+to church, so next morning just as the sun was
+rising and the bells began to ring for the early
+mass, he was seen coming up to the church
+door and was the first to enter. As he knelt
+down quietly to say his prayers as usual, what
+was his surprise to meet a company of priests
+who hailed him as their new archbishop,
+chosen by God to be their leader and guide.
+So Nicholas was made Archbishop of Myra
+to the joy of all in the city who knew and
+loved him.</p>
+
+<p>Not long after this there was great trouble
+in the town of Myra, for the harvests of that
+country had failed and a terrible famine
+swept over the land. Nicholas, as a good
+bishop should, felt the suffering of his people
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>187]</a></span>
+as if it were his own, and did all he could to
+help them.</p>
+
+<p>He knew that they must have corn or they
+would die, so he went to the harbour where
+two ships lay filled with grain, and asked the
+captains if they would sell him their cargo.
+They told the bishop they would willingly do
+so, but it was already sold to merchants of
+another country and they dared not sell it over
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take no thought of that,&rdquo; said Nicholas,
+&ldquo;only sell me some of thy corn for my starving
+people, and I promise thee that there shall be
+nought wanting when thou shalt arrive at thy
+journey&rsquo;s end.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The captains believed in the bishop&rsquo;s promise
+and gave him as much corn as he asked.
+And behold! when they came to deliver their
+cargo to the owners, there was not a bag lacking.</p>
+
+<p>There are many stories told about the good
+bishop. Like his Master, he ever went about
+doing good; and when he died, there were a
+great many legends told about him, for the
+people loved to believe that their bishop still
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>188]</a></span>
+cared for them and would come to their aid.
+We do not know if all these legends are true,
+but they show how much Saint Nicholas was
+loved and honoured even after his death, and
+how every one believed in his power to help
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Here is one of the stories which all children
+who love Saint Nicholas will like to hear.</p>
+
+<p>There was once a nobleman who had no
+children and who longed for a son above
+everything else in the world. Night and day
+he prayed to Saint Nicholas that he would
+grant him his request, and at last a son was
+born. He was a beautiful child, and the
+father was so delighted and so grateful to the
+saint who had listened to his prayers that,
+every year on the child&rsquo;s birthday, he made a
+great feast in honour of Saint Nicholas and a
+grand service was held in the church.</p>
+
+<p>Now the Evil One grew angry each year
+when this happened, for it made many people
+go to church and honour the good saint,
+neither of which things pleased the Evil One
+at all. So each year he tried to think of some
+plan that would put an end to these rejoicings,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>189]</a></span>
+and he decided at last that if only he could do
+some evil to the child the parents would blame
+Saint Nicholas and all would be well.</p>
+
+<p>It happened just then to be the boy&rsquo;s sixth
+birthday and a greater feast than ever was being
+held. It was late in the afternoon, and
+the gardener and porter and all the servants
+were away keeping holiday, too. So no one
+noticed a curious-looking pilgrim who came
+and sat close to the great iron gates which led
+into the courtyard. He had on the ordinary
+robe of a poor pilgrim, but the hood was
+drawn so far over his face that nothing but a
+dark shadow could be seen inside. And indeed
+that was as well, for this pilgrim was a
+demon in disguise, and his wicked, black face
+would have frightened any one who saw it.
+He could not enter the courtyard for the great
+gates were always kept locked, and, as you
+know, the porter was away that day, feasting
+with all the other servants.</p>
+
+<p>But, before very long, the little boy grew
+weary of his birthday feast, and, having had
+all he wanted he begged to be allowed to go
+to play in the garden. His parents knew that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>190]</a></span>
+the gardener always looked after him there,
+so they told him he might go. They forgot
+that the gardener was not there just then.</p>
+
+<p>The child played happily alone for some
+time and then wandered into the courtyard,
+and looking out of the gate saw a poor pilgrim
+resting there.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you doing here?&rdquo; asked the
+child, &ldquo;and why do you sit so still?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am a poor pilgrim,&rdquo; answered the demon,
+trying to make his harsh voice sound as gentle
+as possible, &ldquo;and I have come all the way
+from Rome. I am resting here because I am
+so weary and footsore and have had nothing to
+eat all day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will let you in, and take you to my
+father,&rdquo; said the child; &ldquo;this is my birthday,
+and no one must go hungry to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the demon pretended he was too weak
+to walk, and begged the boy to bring some
+food out to him.</p>
+
+<p>Then the child ran back to the banquet hall
+in a great hurry and said to his father:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O father, there is a poor pilgrim from
+Rome sitting outside our gate, and he is so
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>191]</a></span>
+hungry, may I take him some of my birthday
+feast?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The father was very pleased to think that
+his little son should care for the poor and
+wish to be kind, so he willingly gave his permission
+and told one of the servants to give
+the child all that he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>Then as the demon sat eating the good
+things he began to question the boy and tried
+to find out all that he could about him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you often play in the garden?&rdquo; he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; said the child. &ldquo;I play there
+whenever I may, for in the midst of the lawn
+there is a beautiful fountain, and the gardener
+makes me boats to sail on the water.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will he make you one to-day?&rdquo; asked the
+demon quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is not here to-day,&rdquo; answered the child,
+&ldquo;for this is a holiday for every one and I am
+quite alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the demon rose to his feet slowly and
+said he felt so much better after the good
+food that he thought he could walk a little
+and would like very much to come in and see
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>192]</a></span>
+the beautiful garden and the fountain he had
+heard about.</p>
+
+<p>So the child climbed up and with great
+difficulty drew back the bolts. The great
+gates swung open and the demon walked in.</p>
+
+<p>As they went along together towards the
+fountain the child held out his little hand to
+lead the pilgrim, but even the demon shrunk
+from touching anything so pure and innocent,
+and folded his arms under his robe, so that
+the child could only hold by a fold of his
+cloak.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What strange kind of feet you have,&rdquo; said
+the child as they walked along; &ldquo;they look as
+if they belonged to an animal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, they are curious,&rdquo; said the demon,
+&ldquo;but it is just the way they are made.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the child began to notice the demon&rsquo;s
+hands, which were even more curious than
+his feet, and just like paws of a bear. But
+he was too courteous to say anything about
+them, when he had already mentioned the
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>Just then they came to the fountain, and
+with a sudden movement the demon threw
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>193]</a></span>
+back his hood and showed his dreadful face.
+And before the child could scream he was
+seized by those hairy hands and thrown into
+the water.</p>
+
+<p>But just at that moment the gardener was
+returning to his work and saw from a distance
+what had happened. He ran as fast as he
+could, but he only got to the fountain in time
+to see the demon vanish, while the child&rsquo;s
+body was floating on the water. Very quickly
+he drew him out, and carried him, all dripping
+wet, up to the castle, where they tried
+to bring him back to life. But, alas! it all
+seemed of no use; he neither moved nor
+breathed, and the day that had begun with
+such rejoicing, ended in the bitterest woe.
+The poor parents were heart-broken, but they
+did not quite lose hope and prayed earnestly
+to Saint Nicholas who had given them the
+child, that he would restore their boy to them
+again.</p>
+
+<p>As they prayed by the side of the little bed
+where the body of the child lay, they thought
+something moved, and to their joy and
+surprise the boy opened his eyes and sat
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>194]</a></span>
+up, and in a short time was as well as ever.</p>
+
+<p>They asked him eagerly what had happened,
+and he told them all about the pilgrim
+with the queer feet and hands, who had gone
+with him to the fountain and had then thrown
+back his hood and shown his terrible face.
+After that he could remember nothing until
+he found himself in a beautiful garden, where
+the loveliest flowers grew. There were lilies
+like white stars, and roses far more beautiful
+than any he had ever seen in his own garden,
+and the leaves of the trees shone like silver
+and gold. It was all so beautiful that for a
+while he forgot his home, and when he did
+remember and tried to find his way back, he
+grew bewildered and did not know in what
+direction to turn. As he was looking about,
+an old man came down the garden path and
+smiled so kindly upon him that he trusted him
+at once. This old man was dressed in the
+robes of a bishop, and had a long white beard
+and the sweetest old face the child had ever
+seen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Art thou searching for the way home?&rdquo;
+the old man asked. &ldquo;Dost thou wish to leave
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>195]</a></span>
+this beautiful garden and go back to thy
+father and mother?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want to go home,&rdquo; said the child, with a
+sob in his voice, &ldquo;but I cannot find the way,
+and I am, oh, so tired of searching for it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then the old man stooped down and lifted
+him in his arms, and the child laid his head on
+the old man&rsquo;s shoulder, and, weary with his
+wandering, fell fast asleep and remembered
+nothing more till he woke up in his own little
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>Then the parents knew that Saint Nicholas
+had heard their prayers and had gone to fetch
+the child from the Heavenly Garden and
+brought him back to them.</p>
+
+<p>So they were more grateful to the good
+saint than ever, and they loved and honoured
+him even more than they had done before;
+which was all the reward the demon got for
+his wicked doings.</p>
+
+<p>That is one of the many stories told after
+the death of Saint Nicholas, and it ever helped
+and comforted his people to think that,
+though they could no longer see him he would
+love and protect them still.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>196]</a></span>
+Young maidens in need of help remembered
+the story of the golden bars and felt sure the
+good saint would not let them want. Sailors
+tossing on the stormy waves thought of that
+storm which had sunk to rest at the prayer of
+Saint Nicholas. Poor prisoners with no one
+to take their part were comforted by the
+thought of those other prisoners whom he had
+saved. And little children perhaps have remembered
+him most of all, for when the happy
+Christmas time draws near, who is so much in
+their thoughts as Saint Nicholas, or Santa
+Claus, as they call him? Perhaps they are a
+little inclined to think of him as some good
+magician who comes to fill their stockings with
+gifts, but they should never forget that he was
+the kind bishop who, in olden days, loved to
+make the little ones happy. There are some
+who think that even now he watches over and
+protects little children, and for that reason he
+is called their patron saint.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>197]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap11" id="bk3chap11"></a>CHRISTMAS BELLS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I heard the bells on Christmas Day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their old, familiar carols play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And wild and sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The words repeat<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of peace on earth, good-will to men!<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>198]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap12" id="bk3chap12"></a>A NIGHT WITH SANTA CLAUS</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Anna R. Annan</p>
+
+
+<p>Not very long ago, and not far from here,
+lived a little boy named Bobby Morgan. Now
+I must tell at once how Bobby looked, else
+how will you know him if you meet him in
+the street? Blue-eyed was Rob, and fair-haired,
+and pug-nosed&mdash;just the sweetest trifle,
+his mother said.</p>
+
+<p>Well, the day before Christmas, Rob
+thought it would be a fine thing to run down
+Main Street and see what was going on.
+After dinner his mother put on his fur cap
+and bright scarf, and filled his pockets with
+crackers and cookies. She told him to be very
+polite to Santa Claus if he should happen to
+meet him.</p>
+
+<p>Off he trotted, merry as a cricket, with now
+a skip and now a slide. At every corner he
+held his breath, half expecting to run into
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>199]</a></span>
+Santa himself. Nothing of the sort happened,
+however, and he soon found himself before
+the gay windows of a toy shop.</p>
+
+<p>There he saw a spring hobby-horse, as
+large as a Shetland pony, all saddled and
+bridled, too,&mdash;lacking nothing but a rider.
+Rob pressed his nose against the glass, and
+tried to imagine the feelings of a boy in that
+saddle. He must have stood there all day,
+had not a ragged little fellow pulled his coat.
+&ldquo;Wouldn&rsquo;t you jist like that popgun?&rdquo; he
+piped.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Catch me looking at popguns!&rdquo; said Rob
+shortly. But when he saw how tattered the
+boy&rsquo;s jacket was he said more softly, &ldquo;P&rsquo;r&rsquo;raps
+you&rsquo;d like a cooky.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Try me wunst!&rdquo; said the shrill little voice.</p>
+
+<p>There was a queer lump in Rob&rsquo;s throat as
+he emptied one pocket of its cakes and thrust
+them into the dirty, eager hands. Then he
+marched down the street without so much as
+glancing at that glorious steed again.</p>
+
+<p>Brighter and brighter grew the windows,
+more and more full of toys. At last our boy
+stood, with open eyes and mouth, before a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>200]</a></span>
+great store lighted from top to bottom, for it
+was growing dark. Rob came near taking off
+his cap and saying, &ldquo;How do you do, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To whom, you ask. Why, to an image of
+Santa Claus, the size of life, holding a Christmas
+tree filled with wonderful fruit.</p>
+
+<p>Soon a happy thought struck Rob. &ldquo;Surely
+this must be Santa Claus&rsquo;s own store, where
+he comes to fill his basket with toys! What if
+I were to hide there and wait for him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As I said, he was a brave little chap, and he
+walked straight into the store with the stream
+of big people. Everybody was busy. No one
+had time to look at our mite of a Rob. He
+tried in vain to find a quiet corner, till he
+caught sight of some winding stairs that led
+up to the next story. He crept up, scarcely
+daring to breathe.</p>
+
+<p>What a fairyland! Toys everywhere!
+Oceans of toys! Nothing but toys, excepting
+one happy little boy. Think of fifty great
+rocking-horses in a pile; of whole flocks of
+woolly sheep and curly dogs with the real
+bark in them; stacks of drums; regiments of
+soldiers armed to the teeth; companies of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>201]</a></span>
+firemen drawing their hose carts; no end of
+wheelbarrows and velocipedes!</p>
+
+<p>Rob screwed his knuckles into his eyes, as a
+gentle hint that they had better not play him
+any tricks, and then stared with might and
+main.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Rob thought he heard a footstep
+on the stairs. Fearing to be caught, he hid
+behind a baby-wagon. No one came, however,
+and as he felt rather hungry, he took
+out the remaining cakes and had a fine supper.</p>
+
+<p>Why didn&rsquo;t Santa Claus come?</p>
+
+<p>Rob was really getting sleepy. He stretched
+out his tired legs, and, turning one of the
+woolly sheep on its side, pillowed his curly
+head upon it. It was so nice to lie there, looking
+up at the ceiling hung with toys, and with
+the faint hum of voices in his ears. The blue
+eyes grew more and more heavy. Rob was
+fast asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Midnight! The bells rang loud and clear,
+as if they had great news to tell the world.
+What noise is that besides the bells? And
+look, oh, look! Who is that striding up the
+room with a great basket on his back? He
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>202]</a></span>
+has stolen his coat from a polar bear, and his
+cap, too, I declare! His boots are of red
+leather and reach to his knees. His coat and
+cap are trimmed with wreaths of holly, bright
+with scarlet berries.</p>
+
+<p>Good sir, let us see your face&mdash;why! that
+is the best part of him,&mdash;so round, and so
+ruddy, such twinkling eyes, and such a merry
+look about those dimples! But see his long
+white beard; can he be old?</p>
+
+<p>Oh, very, very old. Over nineteen hundred
+years. Is that not a long life, little ones? But
+he has a young heart, this dear old man, and a
+kind one. Can you guess his name? &ldquo;Hurrah
+for Santa Claus!&rdquo; Right&mdash;the very one.</p>
+
+<p>He put his basket down near Robby, and
+with his back turned to him shook the snow
+from his fur coat. Some of the flakes fell on
+Rob&rsquo;s face and roused him from his sleep.
+Opening his eyes, he saw the white figure, but
+did not stir nor cry out, lest the vision should
+vanish.</p>
+
+<p>But bless his big heart! He had no idea
+of vanishing till his night&rsquo;s work was done.
+He took a large book from his pocket, opened
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>203]</a></span>
+to the first page, and looked at it very closely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tommy Turner,&rdquo; was written at the top,
+and just below was a little map&mdash;yes, there was
+Tommy&rsquo;s heart mapped out like a country.
+Part of the land was marked good, part of it
+bad. Here and there were little flags to point
+out places where battles had been fought during
+the year. Some of them were black and
+some white; wherever a good feeling had won
+the fight there was a white one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tommy Turner,&rdquo; said Santa Claus aloud,
+&ldquo;six white flags, three black ones. That leaves
+only three presents for Tommy; but we must
+see what can be done for him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So he bustled among the toys, and soon had
+a ball, a horse, and a Noah&rsquo;s ark tied up in a
+parcel, which he tossed into the basket.</p>
+
+<p>Name after name was read off, some of
+them belonging to Rob&rsquo;s playmates, and you
+may be sure that the little boy listened with
+his heart in his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Robby Morgan!&rdquo; said Santa Claus.</p>
+
+<p>In his excitement that small lad nearly
+upset the cart, but Santa did not notice it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One, two, three, four, five, six, seven&rdquo;&mdash;Rob&rsquo;s
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>204]</a></span>
+breath came very short&mdash;&ldquo;whites!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He almost clapped his hands.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One, two, three, blacks! Now I wonder
+what that little chap would like&mdash;here&rsquo;s a
+drum, a box of tools, a knife, a menagerie. If
+he hadn&rsquo;t run away from school that day and
+then told a lie about it I&rsquo;d give him a rocking-horse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Rob groaned in anguish of spirit.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, bless him! he&rsquo;s a fine little fellow,
+and perhaps he will do better next year if I
+give him the horse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That was too much for our boy. With a
+&ldquo;Hurrah!&rdquo; he jumped up and turned a somersault
+right at Santa Claus&rsquo;s feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stars and stripes!&rdquo; cried Santa. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s
+this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come along, I&rsquo;ll show you the one!&rdquo; cried
+Rob.</p>
+
+<p>Santa Claus allowed himself to be led off
+to the pile of horses. You may believe that
+Rob&rsquo;s sharp eyes soon picked out the one with
+the longest tail and the thickest mane.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, he beats all the boys that ever I saw!
+What shall I do with the little spy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>205]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Oh, dear Santa Claus,&rdquo; cried Robby, hugging
+the red boots, &ldquo;do just take me along with
+you. I&rsquo;ll stick tight when you slide down the
+chimney.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I guess you will stick tight&mdash;in the
+chimney, my little man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean to your back,&rdquo; half sobbed Rob.</p>
+
+<p>Santa Claus can&rsquo;t bear to see little folks in
+trouble, so he took the boy into his arms, and
+asked where he wanted to go.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To Tommy Turner&rsquo;s, and, oh, you know,
+that boy in the awful old jacket that likes popguns,&rdquo;
+was the breathless reply.</p>
+
+<p>Of course he knew him, for he knows every
+boy and girl in Christendom; so a popgun was
+added to the medley of toys. Santa Claus then
+strapped Rob and the basket on his back. He
+next crept through an open window to a ladder
+he had placed there, down which he ran as
+nimbly as a squirrel. The reindeer before the
+sledge were in a hurry to be off, and tinkled
+their silver bells right merrily. An instant
+more and they were snugly tucked up in the
+white robes; an instant more and they were
+flying like the wind over the snow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>206]</a></span>
+Ah! Tommy&rsquo;s home. Santa Claus sprang
+out, placed the light ladder against the house,
+and before Rob could wink a good fair wink
+they were on the roof, making for the chimney.
+Whether it swallowed him, or he swallowed it,
+is still a puzzle to Robby.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy lay sleeping in his little bed and
+dreaming of a merry Christmas. His rosy
+mouth was puckered into something between
+a whistle and a smile. Rob longed to give him
+a friendly punch, but Santa Claus shook his
+head. They filled his stocking and hurried
+away, for empty little stockings the
+world over were waiting for that generous
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>On they sped again, never stopping until
+they came to a wretched little hovel. A black
+pipe instead of a chimney was sticking through
+the roof.</p>
+
+<p>Rob thought, &ldquo;Now I guess he&rsquo;ll have to
+give it up.&rdquo; But no, he softly pushed the
+door open and stepped in.</p>
+
+<p>On a ragged cot lay the urchin to whom
+Robby had given the cookies. One of them,
+half eaten, was still clutched in his hand.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>207]</a></span>
+Santa Claus gently opened the other little fist
+and put the popgun into it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give him my drum,&rdquo; whispered Rob, and
+Santa Claus, without a word, placed it near
+the rumpled head.</p>
+
+<p>How swiftly they flew under the bright
+stars! How sweetly rang the bells!</p>
+
+<p>When Santa Claus reined up at Robby&rsquo;s
+door he found his little comrade fast asleep.
+He laid him tenderly in his crib, and drew off
+a stocking, which he filled with the smaller
+toys. The rocking-horse he placed close to
+the crib, that Rob might mount him on Christmas
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>A kiss, and he was gone.</p>
+
+<p>P.S.&mdash;Rob&rsquo;s mother says it was all a dream,
+but he declares that &ldquo;It&rsquo;s true as Fourth of
+July!&rdquo; I prefer to take his word for it.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>208]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap13" id="bk3chap13"></a>A CHILD&rsquo;S THOUGHTS ABOUT SANTA CLAUS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What do you think my grandmother said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Telling Christmas stories to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-night, when I went and coaxed and coaxed<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With my head and arms upon her knee?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She thinks&mdash;she really told me so&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">That good Mr. Santa Claus, long ago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was as old and grey as he is to-day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Going around with his loaded sleigh.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She thinks he&rsquo;s driven through frost and snow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For a hundred, yes, a thousand times or so,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With jingling bells and a bag of toys&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ho, ho! for good girls and boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a carol gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Crying, &ldquo;Clear the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a rollicking, merry Christmas day!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grandmother knows almost everything&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All that I ask her she can tell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rivers and towns in geography,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>209]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And the hardest words she can always spell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But the wisest ones, sometimes, they say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Mistake&mdash;and even grandmother may.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If Santa Claus never had been a boy<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">How would he always know so well<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What all the boys are longing for<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On Christmas day? Can grandmother tell?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why does he take the shiny rings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The baby houses, the dolls with curls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The little lockets and other such things<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Never to boys, but always to girls?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why does he take the skates and all<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The bats and balls, and arrows and bows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And trumpets and drums, and guns&mdash;hurrah!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To the boys? I wonder if grandmother knows?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But there&rsquo;s one thing that doesn&rsquo;t seem right&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If Santa Claus was a boy at play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hung up his stocking on Christmas night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who filled it for him on Christmas day?<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Sydney Dayre.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>210]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap14" id="bk3chap14"></a>CHARITY IN A COTTAGE</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Jean Ingelow</p>
+
+
+<p>The charity of the rich is much to be commended;
+but how beautiful is the charity of
+the poor!</p>
+
+<p>Call to mind the coldest day you ever experienced.
+Think of the bitter wind and driving
+snow; think how you shook and shivered&mdash;how
+the sharp white particles were driven
+up against your face&mdash;how, within doors, the
+carpets were lifted like billows along the
+floors, the wind howled and moaned in the
+chimneys, windows cracked, doors rattled, and
+every now and then heavy lumps of snow
+came thundering down with a dull weight
+from the roof.</p>
+
+<p>Now hear my story.</p>
+
+<p>In one of the broad, open plains of Lincolnshire,
+there is a long reedy sheet of water, a
+favourite resort of wild ducks. At its northern
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>211]</a></span>
+extremity stand two mud cottages, old, and
+out of repair.</p>
+
+<p>One bitter, bitter night, when the snow lay
+three feet deep on the ground, and a cutting
+east wind was driving it about, and whistling
+in the dry frozen reeds by the water&rsquo;s edge,
+and swinging the bare willow trees till their
+branches swept the ice, an old woman sat spinning
+in one of these cottages before a moderately
+cheerful fire. Her kettle was singing
+on the coals, she had a reed candle, or home-made
+rushlight, on her table, but the full moon
+shone in, and was the brighter light of the
+two. These two cottages were far from any
+road, or any other habitation; the old woman
+was, therefore, surprised, in an old northern
+song, by a sudden knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>It was loud and impatient, not like the
+knock of her neighbours in the other cottage;
+but the door was bolted, and the old woman
+rose, and shuffling to the window, looked out
+and saw a shivering figure, apparently that of
+a youth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Trampers!&rdquo; said the old woman, sententiously,
+&ldquo;tramping folks be not wanted here.&rdquo;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>212]</a></span>
+So saying she went back to the fire without
+deigning to answer the door.</p>
+
+<p>The youth upon this tried the door, and
+called to her to beg admittance. She heard
+him rap the snow from his shoes against her
+lintel, and again knock as if he thought she
+was deaf, and he should surely gain admittance
+if he could make her hear.</p>
+
+<p>The old woman, surprised at his audacity,
+went to the casement and with all the pride of
+possession, opened it and inquired his business.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good woman,&rdquo; the stranger began, &ldquo;I only
+want a seat at your fire.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said the old woman, giving effect to
+her words by her uncouth dialect, &ldquo;thou&rsquo;ll get
+no shelter here; I&rsquo;ve nought to give to beggars&mdash;a
+dirty, wet critter,&rdquo; she continued
+wrathfully, slamming to the window. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a
+wonder where he found any water, too, seeing
+it freeze so hard a body can get none for
+the kettle, saving what&rsquo;s broken up with a
+hatchet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The stranger turned very hastily from her
+door and waded through the deep snow
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>213]</a></span>
+towards the other cottage. The bitter wind
+helped to drive him towards it. It looked no
+less poor than the first; and when he had tried
+the door and found it bolted and fast, his
+heart sank within him. His hand was so
+numbed with cold that he had made scarcely
+any noise; he tried again.</p>
+
+<p>A rush candle was burning within and a
+matronly looking woman sat before the fire.
+She held an infant in her arms and had
+dropped asleep; but his third knock aroused
+her, and wrapping her apron round the child,
+she opened the door a very little way, and
+demanded what he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good woman,&rdquo; the youth began, &ldquo;I have
+had the misfortune to fall in the water this
+bitter night, and I am so numbed I can
+scarcely walk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The woman gave him a sudden earnest look
+and then sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;thou art so nigh the
+size of my Jem, I thought at first it was him
+come home from sea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The youth stepped across the threshold,
+trembling with cold and wet; and no wonder,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>214]</a></span>
+for his clothes were completely encased in wet
+mud, and the water dripped from them with
+every step he took on the sanded floor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thou art in a sorry plight,&rdquo; said the
+woman, &ldquo;and it be two miles to the nighest
+house; come and kneel down afore the fire;
+thy teeth chatter so pitifully I can scarce bear
+to hear them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him more attentively and
+saw that he was a mere boy, not more than
+sixteen years of age. Her motherly heart was
+touched for him. &ldquo;Art hungry?&rdquo; she asked,
+turning to the table. &ldquo;Thou art wet to the
+skin. What hast been doing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shooting wild ducks,&rdquo; said the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said the hostess, &ldquo;thou art one of the
+keeper&rsquo;s boys, then, I reckon?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He followed the direction of her eyes, and
+saw two portions of bread set upon the table,
+with a small piece of bacon on each.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My master be very late,&rdquo; she observed, for
+charity did not make her use elegant language,
+and by her master she meant her husband;
+&ldquo;but thou art welcome to my bit and
+sup, for I was waiting for him. Maybe it
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>215]</a></span>
+will put a little warmth in thee to eat and
+drink.&rdquo; So saying, she placed before him her
+own share of the supper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said the boy; &ldquo;but I am so
+wet I am making quite a pool before your fire
+with the drippings from my clothes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aye, they are wet indeed,&rdquo; said the woman,
+and rising again she went to an old box, in
+which she began to search, and presently came
+to the fire with a perfectly clean check shirt in
+her hand and a tolerably good suit of clothes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There,&rdquo; said she, showing them with no
+small pride, &ldquo;these be my master&rsquo;s Sunday
+clothes, and if thou wilt be very careful of
+them I&rsquo;ll let thee wear them till thine be dry.&rdquo;
+She then explained that she was going to put
+her &ldquo;bairn&rdquo; to bed, and proceeded up a ladder
+into the room above, leaving the boy to array
+himself in these respectable garments.</p>
+
+<p>When she had come down her guest had
+dressed himself in the labourer&rsquo;s clothes; he
+had had time to warm himself, and he was
+eating and drinking with hungry relish. He
+had thrown his muddy clothes in a heap upon
+the floor. As she looked at him she said:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>216]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Ah, lad, lad, I doubt that head been under
+water: thy poor mother would have been
+sorely frightened if she could have seen thee
+a while ago.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the boy; and in imagination the
+cottage dame saw this same mother, a careworn,
+hard-working creature like herself;
+while the youthful guest saw in imagination a
+beautiful and courtly lady; and both saw the
+same love, the same anxiety, the same terror,
+at sight of a lonely boy struggling in the moonlight
+through breaking ice, with no one to help
+him, catching at the frozen reeds, and then
+creeping up, shivering and benumbed, to a
+cottage door.</p>
+
+<p>But, even as she stooped, the woman forgot
+her imagination, for she had taken a waistcoat
+into her hands, such as had never passed between
+them before; a gold pencil-case
+dropped from the pocket; and on the floor
+amidst a heap of mud that covered the outer
+garments, lay a white shirt sleeve, so white,
+indeed, and so fine, that she thought it could
+hardly be worn by a squire!</p>
+
+<p>She glanced from the clothes to the owner.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>217]</a></span>
+He had thrown down his cap, and his fair
+curly hair and broad forehead convinced her
+that he was of gentle birth; but while she
+hesitated to sit down, he placed a chair for
+her, and said with boyish frankness:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say, what a lonely place this is! If you
+had not let me in, the water would have frozen
+me before I reached home. Catch me duck-shooting
+again by myself!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s very cold sport that, sir,&rdquo; said the
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>The young gentleman assented most readily,
+and asked if he might stir the fire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And welcome, sir,&rdquo; said the woman.</p>
+
+<p>She felt a curiosity to know who he was,
+and he partly satisfied her by remarking that
+he was staying at Deen Hall, a house about
+five miles off, adding that in the morning he
+had broken a hole in the ice very near the
+decoy, but it iced over so fast, that in the dusk
+he had missed it, and fallen in, for it would not
+bear him. He had made some landmarks, and
+taken every proper precaution, but he supposed
+the sport had excited him so much that
+in the moonlight he had passed them by.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>218]</a></span>
+He then told her of his attempt to get shelter
+in the other cottage.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said the woman, &ldquo;if you had said you
+were a gentleman&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boy laughed. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I knew it,
+my good woman,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;my senses were
+so benumbed; for I was some time struggling
+at the water&rsquo;s edge among the broken ice, and
+then I believe I was nearly an hour creeping
+up to your cottage door. I remember it all
+rather indistinctly, but as soon as I had felt
+the fire and eaten something I was a different
+creature.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As they still talked, the husband came in;
+and while he was eating his supper it was
+agreed that he should walk to Deen Hall, and
+let its inmates know of the gentleman&rsquo;s safety.
+When he was gone the woman made up the
+fire with all the coal that remained to the poor
+household, and crept up to bed, leaving her
+guest to lie down and rest before it.</p>
+
+<p>In the grey dawn the labourer returned,
+with a servant leading a horse, and bringing
+a fresh suit of clothes.</p>
+
+<p>The young man took his leave with many
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>219]</a></span>
+thanks, slipping three half-crowns into the
+woman&rsquo;s hand, probably all the money he had
+about him. And I must not forget to mention
+that he kissed the baby; for when she
+tells the story, the mother always adverts to
+that circumstance with great pride, adding
+that her child, being as &ldquo;clean as wax, was
+quite fit to be kissed by anybody.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Misses,&rdquo; said her husband, as they stood in
+the doorway looking after their guest, &ldquo;who
+dost think that be?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; answered the misses.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I&rsquo;ll just tell thee; that be young Lord
+W&mdash;&mdash;; so thou mayest be a proud woman;
+thou sits and talks with lords, and then asks
+them to supper&mdash;ha, ha!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, her master shouldered his spade
+and went his way, leaving her clinking the
+three half-crowns in her hand, and considering
+what she should do with them.</p>
+
+<p>Her neighbour from the other cottage presently
+stepped in, and when she heard the tale
+and saw the money her heart was ready to
+break with envy and jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, to think that good luck should have
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>220]</a></span>
+come to her door, and she should have been so
+foolish as to turn it away! Seven shillings and
+sixpence for a morsel of food and a night&rsquo;s
+shelter&mdash;why it was nearly a week&rsquo;s wages!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So there, as they both supposed, the matter
+ended, and the next week the frost was sharper
+than ever. Sheep were frozen in the fenny
+field and poultry on their perches, but the
+good woman had walked to the nearest town
+and bought a blanket. It was a welcome addition
+to their bed covering, and it was many a
+long year since they had been so comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>But it chanced one day at noon that, looking
+out at her casement she spied three young
+gentlemen skating along the ice towards her
+cottage. They sprang on to the bank, took
+off their skates, and made for her door. The
+young nobleman, for he was one of the three,
+informed her that he had had such a severe
+cold he could not come to see her before. &ldquo;He
+spoke as free and pleasantly,&rdquo; she said, in telling
+the story, &ldquo;as if I had been a lady, and no
+less, and then he brought a parcel out of his
+pocket, saying, &lsquo;I have been over to B&mdash;&mdash;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>221]</a></span>
+and brought you a book for a keepsake, and I
+hope you will accept it;&rsquo; and then they all
+talked as pretty as could be for a matter of ten
+minutes, and went away. So I waited till my
+master came home, and we opened the parcel,
+and there was a fine Bible inside, all over
+gold and red morocco, and my name and his
+name written inside; and, bless him, a ten-pound
+note doubled down over the names.
+I&rsquo;m sure, when I thought he was a poor forlorn
+creature, he was kindly welcome. So
+my master laid out part of the money in tools,
+and we rented a garden; and he goes over on
+market days to sell what we grow, so now,
+thank God, we want for nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This is how she generally concludes the
+little history, never failing to add that the
+young lord kissed her baby.</p>
+
+<p>But I have not yet told you what I thought
+the best part of the story. When this poor
+Christian woman was asked what had induced
+her to take in a perfect stranger and trust him
+with the best clothing her home afforded, she
+answered simply, &ldquo;Well, I saw him shivering
+and shaking, so I thought, thou shalt come in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>222]</a></span>
+here, for the sake of Him that had not where
+to lay His head.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old woman in the other cottage may
+open her door every night of her future life
+to some forlorn beggar, but it is all but certain
+that she will never open it to a nobleman
+in disguise!</p>
+
+<p>Let us do good, not to receive more good
+in return, but as evidence of gratitude for
+what has been already bestowed. In a few
+words, let it be &ldquo;all for love and nothing for
+reward.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The most excellent gift is charity.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>223]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap15" id="bk3chap15"></a>THE WAITS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At the break of Christmas Day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the frosty starlight ringing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Faint and sweet and far away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Comes the sound of children, singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Chanting, singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">&ldquo;Cease to mourn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">For Christ is born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Peace and joy to all men bringing!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Careless that the chill winds blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Noiseless footfalls in the snow<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bring the happy voices nearer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hear them singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">&ldquo;Winter&rsquo;s drear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But Christ is here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mirth and gladness with Him bringing!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>224]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Merry Christmas!&rdquo; hear them say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As the East is growing lighter;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;May the joy of Christmas Day<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Make your whole year gladder, brighter!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Join their singing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">&ldquo;To each home<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Our Christ has come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All love&rsquo;s treasures with Him bringing!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Margaret Deland.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>225]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap16" id="bk3chap16"></a>WHERE LOVE IS THERE GOD IS ALSO</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Leo Tolstoi</p>
+
+
+<p>Martuin, the shoemaker, lived in a city of
+Russia. His house was a little basement room
+with one window. Through this window he
+used to watch the people walking past. He
+was so far below the street that from his
+bench he could see only the feet of the passers-by
+but he knew them all by their boots.
+Nearly every pair of boots in the neighbourhood
+had been in his hands once and again.
+Some he would half sole, and some he would
+patch, some he would stitch around, and occasionally
+he would also put on new uppers.
+&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; he would say to himself, &ldquo;there goes
+the baker. That was a fine piece of leather.&rdquo;
+Martuin always had plenty to do because he
+was a faithful workman, used good materials,
+and always finished an order as early as he
+promised it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>226]</a></span>
+In the evening when his work was done he
+would light his little oil lamp, take his book
+down from the shelf and begin to read. He
+had but one book, a Bible, and as he read he
+thought of the wonderful Christ-child. &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo;
+he cried one night, &ldquo;if He would only come to
+me and be my guest. If He should come, I
+wonder how I should receive Him.&rdquo; Martuin
+rested his head upon his hands and dozed.
+&ldquo;Martuin,&rdquo; a voice seemed suddenly to sound
+in his ears.</p>
+
+<p>He started from his sleep. &ldquo;Who is here?&rdquo;
+He looked around but there was no one.</p>
+
+<p>Again he fell into a doze. Suddenly he
+plainly heard, &ldquo;Martuin, ah, Martuin! Look
+to-morrow on the street. I am coming.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At daybreak next morning Martuin woke,
+said his prayer, put his cabbage soup and
+gruel on to cook and sat down by the window
+to work. He worked hard but all the time he
+was thinking of the voice that he had heard.
+&ldquo;Was it a dream,&rdquo; he said to himself, &ldquo;or is
+He coming? Shall I really see Him to-day?&rdquo;
+When anyone passed by in boots that he did
+not know he would bend down close to the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>227]</a></span>
+window so that he could see the face as well
+as the boots.</p>
+
+<p>By and by an old, old man came along; he
+carried a shovel. It was Stephanwitch. Martuin
+knew him by his old felt boots. He was
+very poor and helped the house porter with
+all the hard work. Now he began to shovel
+away the snow from in front of Martuin&rsquo;s
+window. Martuin looked up eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pshaw,&rdquo; said Martuin, &ldquo;old Stephanwitch
+is clearing away the snow and I imagined the
+Christ-child was coming to see me.&rdquo; He
+looked again. How old and feeble Stephanwitch
+looked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is cold and weary,&rdquo; thought Martuin.
+&ldquo;I will call him in and give him a cup of tea,
+the samovar must be boiling by now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He laid down his awl, made the tea, and
+tapped on the window. &ldquo;Come in and warm
+yourself,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May Christ reward you for this! My
+bones ache,&rdquo; said Stephanwitch.</p>
+
+<p>Stephanwitch shook off the snow and tried
+to wipe his feet so as not to soil the floor, but
+he staggered from cold and weariness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>228]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Never mind that, I will clean it up. We
+are used to such things. Sit down and drink
+a cup of tea,&rdquo; said Martuin heartily.</p>
+
+<p>Martuin filled two cups and handed one to
+Stephanwitch who drank it eagerly, turned it
+upside down, and began to express his thanks.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have some more?&rdquo; said Martuin, refilling
+the cup.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you expecting anyone?&rdquo; asked
+Stephanwitch. &ldquo;I see you keep turning to
+look on the street.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am ashamed to tell you whom I expect.
+I am, and I am not, expecting someone. You
+see, brother, I was reading about the Christ
+and how He walked on earth and I thought,
+&lsquo;If He came to me, should I know how to
+receive Him?&rsquo; and I heard a voice, &lsquo;Be on the
+watch, I shall come to-morrow.&rsquo; It is absurd,
+yet would you believe it, I am expecting Him,
+the Christ-child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Stephanwitch shook his head but said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Martuin filled his guest&rsquo;s cup with hot tea
+and continued, &ldquo;You see I have an idea He
+would come to the simple people. He picked
+out His disciples from simple working people
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>229]</a></span>
+like us. Come, brother, have some more
+tea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But Stephanwitch rose. &ldquo;Thanks to you,
+Martuin, for treating me kindly and warming
+me, soul and body.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are welcome, brother, come again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Stephanwitch departed. Martuin put away
+the dishes and sat down by the window to
+stitch on a patch. He kept looking out as he
+stitched.</p>
+
+<p>Two soldiers passed by; one wore boots that
+Martuin had made; then the master of the next
+house; then a baker. Then there came a
+woman in woolen stockings and wooden
+shoes. Martuin looked up through the window.
+He saw she was a stranger poorly clad
+in shabby summer clothes. She had turned
+her back to the wind and was trying to shelter
+a little child who was crying.</p>
+
+<p>Martuin went to the door and called out,
+&ldquo;Why are you standing there in the cold?
+Come into my room where it is warm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The woman was astonished when she saw
+the old, old man in his leather apron and big
+spectacles beckoning and calling to her, but
+she gladly followed him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>230]</a></span>
+&ldquo;There,&rdquo; said Martuin, &ldquo;sit down near the
+stove and warm yourself.&rdquo; Then he brought
+out bread, poured out cabbage soup, and took
+up the pot with the gruel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eat, eat,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I will mind the little
+one. Tell me, why are you out in this bitter
+cold?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am a soldier&rsquo;s wife, but my husband has
+been sent far away. We have used up our
+money and I went to-day for work but they
+told me to come again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Martuin sighed. &ldquo;Have you no warm
+clothes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, this is the time to wear them, but
+yesterday I sold my last warm shawl for
+food.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Martuin sighed. He went to the little cupboard
+and found an old coat. &ldquo;Take it,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;It is a poor thing, yet it may help you.&rdquo;
+He slipped some money into her hand and
+with this said, &ldquo;Buy yourself a shawl and
+food till work shall be found.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May Christ bless you!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;He
+must have sent me to you. It had grown so
+cold my little child would have frozen to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>231]</a></span>
+death, but He, the Christ-child, led you to
+look through the window.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed He did,&rdquo; said Martuin, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>The woman left. Martuin ate some sheki,
+washed the dishes, and sat down again by the
+window to work. A shadow darkened the
+window. Martuin looked up eagerly. It was
+only an acquaintance who lived a little further
+down the street. Again the window
+grew dark. This time Martuin saw that an
+old apple woman had stopped right in front
+of the window. She carried a basket with
+apples and over her shoulder she had a bag
+full of chips. One could see that the bag was
+heavy. She lowered it to the sidewalk and
+as she did so, she set the apples on a little post.
+A little boy with a torn cap darted up, picked
+an apple out of the basket and started to run
+but the old woman caught him, knocked off his
+cap, and seized him by the hair.</p>
+
+<p>Martuin ran out in the cold. &ldquo;Let him go,
+Babushka; forgive him for Christ&rsquo;s sake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will forgive him so that he won&rsquo;t forget
+it till the new broom grows! I am going to
+take him to the police.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>232]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Let him go, Babushka, let him go for
+Christ&rsquo;s sake. He will never do it again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old woman let him loose. The boy
+tried to run, but Martuin kept him back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ask Babushka&rsquo;s forgiveness,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and
+never do it again. I saw you take the apple.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With tears in his eyes the boy began to ask
+forgiveness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There, that&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; said Martuin;
+&ldquo;take the apple. I will pay for it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ruin the good-for-nothings,&rdquo; said the
+old woman. &ldquo;He should be well punished.
+He deserves it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; answered Martuin, &ldquo;but God
+forgives us though we deserve it not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well,&rdquo; said the old woman, appeased,
+&ldquo;after all it was but a childish trick.&rdquo; She
+started to lift the bag upon her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me take it,&rdquo; said the boy. &ldquo;It is on
+my way.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Side by side they passed along the street, the
+boy carrying the bag and chattering to the old
+woman. Martuin turned and went back into
+the little room.</p>
+
+<p>After sewing a little while it grew too dark
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>233]</a></span>
+to see. He lighted his little lamp, finished his
+piece of work, put it away, and took down his
+Bible. Suddenly he seemed to hear someone
+stepping around behind him. In the dark
+corner there seemed to be people standing.
+Then he heard a voice, &ldquo;Martuin, ah, Martuin,
+did you not know me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; cried Martuin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is I,&rdquo; replied the voice, and Stephanwitch
+stepped forth from the dark corner,
+smiled, and faded away like a little cloud.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And this is I!&rdquo; said the voice again, and
+from the dark corner stepped the woman and
+the child. The woman smiled, the child
+laughed, and then they, too, vanished.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And this is I!&rdquo; and the old woman and
+the boy stepped forward, smiled, and vanished.
+Then a light filled the little room and
+glowed about the figure of a Child and Martuin
+heard the words:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For I was an hungered and ye gave me
+meat; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink; I
+was a stranger and ye took me in.&rdquo; And Martuin
+knew that the Christ-child had really
+come to him that Christmas-tide. (<i>Adapted.</i>)</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>234]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk3chap17" id="bk3chap17"></a>GOD REST YE, MERRY GENTLEMEN</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">God rest ye, merry gentlemen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Let nothing you dismay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was born upon this day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To save us all from Satan&rsquo;s pow&rsquo;r<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When we were gone astray.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O tidings of comfort and joy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was born on Christmas Day.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now to the Lord sing praises,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All you within this place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with true love and brotherhood<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each other now embrace;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This holy tide of Christmas<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">All others doth deface.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O tidings of comfort and joy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was born on Christmas Day.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Dinah Mulock Craik.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"><!-- no visible page number --></a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="padtop"><a name="book4" id="book4"></a>THE GLAD NEW YEAR</h2>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>236]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="padtop"><a name="bk4chap01" id="bk4chap01"></a>THE GLAD NEW YEAR</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It&rsquo;s coming, boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It&rsquo;s almost here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It&rsquo;s coming, girls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The grand New Year.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A year to be glad in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Not to be sad in;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A year to live in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To gain and give in.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A year for trying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And not for sighing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A year for striving<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And healthy thriving.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It&rsquo;s coming, boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It&rsquo;s almost here.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It&rsquo;s coming, girls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The grand New Year.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Mary Mapes Dodge.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>237]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk4chap02" id="bk4chap02"></a>THE BAD LITTLE GOBLIN&rsquo;S NEW YEAR</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Mary Stewart</p>
+
+
+<p>Come, children dear, let&rsquo;s sit on the floor
+around the fire, so, and watch those golden
+flames dancing and leaping. You see that
+very gay one just springing up the chimney?
+I know a story about him, a New Year&rsquo;s story.
+Let&rsquo;s snuggle up closer and look into the fire.
+You see that piece of coal black wood, there
+at the end? There was a horrid little goblin
+once who was as black as that bit of wood.
+His clothes were all black, his round cap
+looked like a bit of coal, his pointed shoes were
+jet black, and his face was dark with dirt and
+an ugly scowling expression. Altogether he
+was a horrid looking goblin, and he was just
+as hateful as he looked. There wasn&rsquo;t a single
+person who liked him. The birds hated him
+because he would wait after dark when all the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>238]</a></span>
+baby birds were cuddled down in the nest,
+fast asleep. Then he would pop up from
+under the nest where he had been hiding and
+cry, &ldquo;Morning time, wake up!&rdquo; and all the
+babies would cry, &ldquo;Chirp, chirp, Daddy bring
+us our breakfast!&rdquo; They opened their bills
+so wide that it took a long time to shut them
+and put the excited babies to sleep again.
+Once Blackie, that was the goblin&rsquo;s name,
+dropped a bit of twig down into a baby&rsquo;s open
+bill and the poor bird coughed so hard that
+he kept the birds in the nests around awake
+all night. Blackie chuckled with glee and
+went scurrying off on another prank.</p>
+
+<p>While the mother bunnies were asleep he
+painted the tiny white flags they wear under
+their tails with brown mud from the marsh.
+When morning-time really did come and the
+mother bunnies woke up and called to their
+children to follow them, the little bunnies
+couldn&rsquo;t see any white flags on their mothers&rsquo;
+tails to follow, and all got lost in the long
+grass. It took the whole day to gather them
+together, and still longer to get those flags
+clean again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>239]</a></span>
+Blackie jumped for joy. The mother bunnies
+would have liked to reach him with their
+sharp claws, but he was too quick for them.</p>
+
+<p>Then Blackie found the holes where the
+squirrels had hidden their nuts for the winter.
+It had taken months to gather them, but
+Blackie waited until they were out hunting
+again, and he carried all the nuts away and hid
+them in the roots of an old tree where they
+would never think of looking!</p>
+
+<p>That wasn&rsquo;t all! Blackie did one last thing
+so terrible that I don&rsquo;t like to tell you about it.
+He waited until a robin&rsquo;s nest was full of
+lovely blue eggs and the father bird was off in
+search of worms. Then he made such a rustling
+in the next tree that the mother bird flew
+off to see what it was, and while she was gone&mdash;Blackie
+danced upon the eggs until they
+were all broken!</p>
+
+<p>That filled the timid wood creatures with
+fury. The birds, the rabbits, and the squirrels
+rushed upon the goblin and drove him before
+them. The birds pecked him with their
+beaks, and the squirrels and rabbits hopped
+after him with their claws outstretched.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>240]</a></span>
+Away ran Blackie, really frightened at last,
+faster and faster until he reached the darkest
+part of the whole forest. There he jumped
+into a hole in a tree, curling himself up so
+tightly that his round cap touched his pointed
+shoes, and while he trembled with fear he
+heard the birds and bunnies and squirrels go
+tearing past, thinking that the wicked little
+goblin was still running ahead of them.</p>
+
+<p>When they had all gone, Blackie peeked out
+of his hole. Oh, how terribly quiet it was!
+Not a bird chirped, not a squirrel or a rabbit
+or a woodchuck lived there. It was so quiet
+and so dark and so lonely that Blackie began
+to feel quite forlorn. &ldquo;I would almost be
+polite to a tree toad!&rdquo; he thought, but not even
+a croak or a buzz or a rustle broke the stillness.
+The bad little goblin put his head down
+upon his black knees and went to sleep; there
+was nothing else to do!</p>
+
+<p>The first sound which woke him up was,
+&ldquo;Chop-chop!&rdquo; He rubbed his eyes and
+peeked out. He saw woodcutters cutting
+down trees with their sharp axes. Then he
+saw them coming toward the tree where he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>241]</a></span>
+was hiding. Shaking with terror, Blackie
+curled himself up into a tight ball. Chop-chop-crash!
+went the tree, and Blackie&rsquo;s head
+bumped hard against the top of his hole as,
+still inside it, he felt the tree fall to the
+ground. That was rather fun, and much excited
+he peeked out of a crack and watched
+the men fastening chains around the trees and
+loading them on wheels. His own tree went,
+too, and the next thing Blackie heard was saw-saw,
+as the tree was sawed into logs at a lumber
+yard. Again he rolled up tight, hoping
+the knives wouldn&rsquo;t cut him in two, and they
+didn&rsquo;t! He was still safe in his hole when his
+log was thrown with others, right down into
+a dark cellar. It was even drearier there than
+in the forest and Blackie began to long for
+some playfellows. &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t tease them. I&rsquo;d
+just play with them nicely,&rdquo; he sighed, and two
+tears ran down his little black face, washing it
+almost clean.</p>
+
+<p>Then Blackie heard a strange new sound.
+It was gayer than a squirrel&rsquo;s chatter, sweeter
+than a bird&rsquo;s song,&mdash;it was a child&rsquo;s laughter!
+Where did it come from? Blackie stopped
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>242]</a></span>
+crying and listened. It came again and the
+laughter of other children mingled with it.
+Blackie peeked out. There was no one in the
+cellar. He crept out and tiptoed up the
+stairs, in search of those laughing voices.
+Hiding in the shadows so that no one could see
+him, he passed through the kitchen and on into
+a room full of sunshine and children. He ran
+in and hid behind a curtain, peeking out curiously.
+In the center of the room stood a little
+golden-haired girl, the one whose laughter he
+had first heard. But as Blackie watched her
+with delight he saw her pucker up her face as
+though she were going to cry. &ldquo;My dolly,
+my dear dolly, I tan&rsquo;t find her!&rdquo; she wailed.
+In a flash all the other boys and girls were
+searching under chairs and tables for the runaway
+dolly. They couldn&rsquo;t find her, but
+Blackie saw a pair of doll&rsquo;s feet poking out
+from under the sofa. He hopped swiftly
+across the floor, pulled the doll out by one leg
+and placed her on a chair beside the little girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, see, my doll&rsquo;s tum back!&rdquo; she cried,
+hugging her with joy. &ldquo;She went for a walk
+and tame back again!&rdquo; and taking the doll&rsquo;s
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>243]</a></span>
+two hands in hers she danced with her around
+the room. The other children danced, too,
+and their laughter rang out again. &ldquo;She went
+for a walk and came back all herself!&rdquo; they
+cried.</p>
+
+<p>Blackie thought he had never seen or heard
+anything so merry, it made him want to dance,
+also. Poor little black goblin whom the maid,
+if she had seen him, would have swept out of
+the room, mistaking him for a bit of coal!</p>
+
+<p>But Blackie took care that no one did see
+him. Except, perhaps, the children, I don&rsquo;t
+know whether anyone ever saw him or not. He
+spent most of the time with them, and somehow
+they seemed to know that he was there
+and that he was their friend. Every evening
+when they had their supper they put a bowl of
+milk in front of the fire for him, and when
+they came in to breakfast the bowl was always
+empty. I don&rsquo;t know how Blackie drank it
+without being seen, for he still slept in his log
+in the cellar and was asleep as soon as the children&rsquo;s
+heads touched their pillows. The children&rsquo;s
+mother was puzzled over that empty
+bowl, but she might have guessed there was a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>244]</a></span>
+friendly goblin in the house by the way lost
+things were always turning up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t find my thimble!&rdquo; the mother would
+cry. &ldquo;Come, children, and look for it!&rdquo; On
+the floor, under the rug, in the flower pots, and
+on the tables hunted the children. But hiding
+behind the curtain Blackie had seen a bit of
+something gold shining through the tassels of
+the sofa. Quick as a flash, he pulled it out
+and placed it on the arm of the mother&rsquo;s chair.
+&ldquo;Why, here it is!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;How did
+it get there?&rdquo; The children laughed and
+winked at each other, as though they understood,
+but how could they explain about the
+goblin to mother?</p>
+
+<p>Their father was always looking for his
+spectacles. Mother, the children, and all the
+maids would be called in to help search. Before
+Blackie came they often searched for
+hours, but he always found them in a twinkling,
+in a book, perhaps, or under the fender,
+and would place them right in front of
+father. &ldquo;Gracious, look here, there must be
+some magic around!&rdquo; he would cry, and the
+children would jump up and down with glee!
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>245]</a></span>
+They knew all about the magic. They guessed
+that a little black goblin was also jumping
+with delight behind the curtain!</p>
+
+<p>One morning,&mdash;it was New Year&rsquo;s Day,&mdash;Blackie
+slept longer than usual. He was
+curled up inside his log, so sound asleep that
+even the joggling of his home being carried
+upstairs didn&rsquo;t waken him. Then he was
+turned upside down, and, opening his eyes, he
+peeked out of the crack and found that the log
+was about to be thrown onto the blazing fire!
+Crash! it went. How very warm it was, and
+then Blackie heard the children laughing.
+He poked his head out and saw them all sitting
+in front of the fire, watching the blaze. All
+around Blackie red and yellow flames were
+dancing, so gay, so golden, so happy that
+Blackie forgot to be frightened. &ldquo;I want to
+be gay, too!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I want to laugh with
+the children and dance with the flames.&rdquo;
+His log caught fire, blazed up and out
+sprang Blackie,&mdash;a little black goblin no
+longer!</p>
+
+<p>Instead, he was the shiniest, most dancing
+golden flame that you ever saw! For a few
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>246]</a></span>
+moments he just danced up and down with delight,
+then, waving and bowing to the children,
+he cried, &ldquo;Happy New Year! Happy New
+Year!&rdquo; and sprang up the chimney. The children&rsquo;s
+glad voices echoed after him.</p>
+
+<p>When he reached the top he saw a glorious
+sight. The sun shining on the snow and ice
+turned the world into a sparkling Fairy-land,
+and the sky was as blue as forget-me-nots, or
+Polly&rsquo;s eyes, or the very bluest thing you have
+ever seen. Blackie danced with the sunbeams
+over the glittering ice until he almost ran into
+a flock of little birds huddled down in the
+snow, too cold to fly. Their feathers were ruffled
+and they looked very miserable. &ldquo;Come
+play with me!&rdquo; he cried, dancing around them.
+He was so gay and so beautiful that they forgot
+the cold, and flew in circles around him.
+&ldquo;Come and join us!&rdquo; he cried to a group of
+rabbits who were hunched up upon the snow,
+half-frozen. They hopped along slowly toward
+him and then&mdash;they, too, forgot the cold
+while they played games with the golden goblin
+and the birds, until they were all as merry
+as the sunbeams. &ldquo;Happy New Year! Happy
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>247]</a></span>
+New Year!&rdquo; they called to each other, and to
+the twinkling flame goblin.</p>
+
+<p>Then Blackie saw some squirrels curled up
+on the branches of a tree so miserable they
+couldn&rsquo;t even make-believe scamper. &ldquo;What
+is the matter; do you want some nuts?&rdquo; he
+cried. &ldquo;Follow me!&rdquo; And away he darted
+to the roots of the tree where, as a naughty
+little goblin, he had hidden their winter store.
+The squirrels followed slowly, but when they
+saw their treasure their eyes sparkled, their
+teeth chattered with delight, and they scampered
+back and forth from the tree root to
+their own holes, their paws full of nuts. They
+were as gay as Blackie himself. &ldquo;Happy New
+Year! Happy New Year!&rdquo; they cried to their
+gleaming friend, whom they never dreamed
+was the bad little goblin they had chased away
+the autumn before!</p>
+
+<p>So all day and for many days the goblin
+danced and sang and helped people and birds
+and the wood creatures. He twinkled as merrily
+in the sunshine out of doors as he did when
+he danced in the fire, warming the children
+and singing them songs.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>248]</a></span>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s like Happy New Year every day when
+the goblin is here!&rdquo; cried the children, dancing
+as gayly on the hearth rug as the sprite was
+dancing within the fire. &ldquo;There he is now, do
+you see him? He is dancing and crackling
+and crying to all of us, &lsquo;Happy New Year,
+Happy New Year!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<a name="bk4chap03" id="bk4chap03"></a>
+<span class="i0">Let others looke for Pearle and Gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tissues, or Tabbies manifold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One only lock of that sweet Hay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whereon the blessed Babie lay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or one poore Swadling-clout, shall be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The richest New-Yeere&rsquo;s Gift to me.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Robert Herrick.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>249]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk4chap04" id="bk4chap04"></a>THE QUEEN OF THE YEAR</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When suns are low and nights are long<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And winds bring wild alarms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the darkness comes the Queen of the Year<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In all her peerless charms,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">December, fair and holly-crowned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the Christ-child in her arms.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The maiden months are a stately train,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Veiled in the spotless snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or decked with the bloom of Paradise<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What time the roses blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or wreathed with the vine and the yellow wheat<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When the noons of harvest glow.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But, oh, the joy of the rolling year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The queen with peerless charms,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is she who comes through the waning light<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To keep the world from harms,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">December, fair and holly-crowned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With the Christ-child in her arms.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Edna Dean Proctor.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>250]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk4chap05" id="bk4chap05"></a>THE NEW YEAR&rsquo;S BELL</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Andrea Hofer Proudfoot</p>
+
+
+<p>A-ring-a-ring, ring! A-ring-a-ring, ring!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Brother Carl, wake up! wake up! Don&rsquo;t
+you hear the great bell? Father is ringing the
+New Year in, don&rsquo;t you hear it, little Carl?
+Wake up!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tangled-haired little Carl sat up in bed,
+rubbed his eyes, and after a few winks opened
+them wide.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it the wind, brother Hans, that sings
+so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no! It is the great bell; don&rsquo;t you hear
+it ring? It is ringing for the New Year.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is father drawing the rope?&rdquo; asked the little
+one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course he is, little Carl; he is waking
+up the whole world that every one may wish a
+&lsquo;Happy New Year.&rsquo; Come, let us go to the
+window.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>251]</a></span>
+And the two little fellows crept out of their
+warm nest onto the cold floor, and over to the
+window in the gable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, see, there is father&rsquo;s lantern in the
+steeple window!&rdquo; cried Carl.</p>
+
+<p>It threw its light into the frosty night; the
+clear stars cut sharp holes in the sky, and the
+air was so cold it made everything glisten.</p>
+
+<p>A-ring-a-ring, ring! clanged the great bell,
+and little Hans and Carl knew their father&rsquo;s
+arms were making it ring. The strokes were
+so strong that each one made little half-asleep
+Carl wink; and the stars seemed to wink back
+to him each time. He crept closer to Hans,
+and the two stood still with their arms about
+each other; the room was quite cold, but they
+did not mind it, for with each stroke the great
+bell seemed to ring more beautifully. It
+seemed so near them, as if ringing right in
+their ears, and the two little boys stood and
+listened with beating hearts.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw dear father trim his lantern,&rdquo; whispered
+Hans. &ldquo;He set it near the door before
+we went to bed, all ready to light when the
+clock struck twelve. Mother said to him as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>252]</a></span>
+he put the lantern there, &lsquo;Ring the bell good
+and strong, dear father, for who knows but
+this year may bring the great blessing which
+the Christ-child promised!&rsquo; We must watch
+for it, little Carl.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And the old bell seemed to speak louder
+and clearer to the little ones, as they eagerly
+listened for what it was telling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Father says the bell will never ring from
+the old tower again, for the new one is being
+built,&rdquo; said Hans. &ldquo;And what do you think,
+brother Carl, our dear mother wept because
+the old steeple must be broken down, and the
+dear bell, that is even now a-ringing, must be
+put into another great tower to ring.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does the great bell know it, brother?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, dear little Carl; but no matter where
+it is put it will always ring, and be glad to
+wake the village for the New Year.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will we go and say good-bye to the dear
+old bell, brother Hans?&rdquo; whispered little Carl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, brother mine; when it is day we will
+go, for it has rung so many times for us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They crept out of the cold into their snug
+bed again, and the great strokes poured from
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>253]</a></span>
+the tower window long after the little curly
+heads were full of dreams.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wake up, brother Hans! there is the
+sun.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This time little Carl was the first to arise.
+Quickly they were both dressed, and, opening
+their door noiselessly, they went down the narrow
+stairs on tiptoe, and then out into the open
+air.</p>
+
+<p>A swift wind was blowing. It swept over
+the bare bushes and whirled the snow into the
+children&rsquo;s faces, and filled their curly hair
+with flakes. But the sun was smiling down on
+them and said: &ldquo;See what a beautiful day I
+brought for a New Year&rsquo;s gift to you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And the little ones passed through the
+church door, that was always open, and into
+the belfry tower. They knew the way, for
+father had so often taken them with him.</p>
+
+<p>They came to the long, dark ladder-way;
+but they did not mind the dark&mdash;for they knew
+the bell was at the top, and they bravely began
+to climb.</p>
+
+<p>Hans had wooden shoes, so he left them at
+the foot of the ladder. It is so much easier to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>254]</a></span>
+climb a ladder with bare feet. Besides, he
+hardly felt the cold he was such a quick and
+lively little boy.</p>
+
+<p>Carl went ahead that brother Hans might
+the more easily help him. They climbed, up
+and up, and the brave big brother talked merrily
+all the time, to keep little Carl from thinking
+of the long, long way. Up and up they
+went. It became darker and darker. Little
+Carl led on and on, and he was glad that Hans
+was behind him.</p>
+
+<p>All at once a bright gleam of light greeted
+them from above, and they knew that soon
+they would be with the dear old bell.</p>
+
+<p>Through the opening they crept, and there
+the great bell hung and they stood beneath it.
+Hans could just touch it, and he felt its long
+tongue and saw the shining marks on its sides
+where it had struck in clanging for many,
+many years.</p>
+
+<p>It was very cold in the belfry. Little Carl
+tucked his hands under his blouse and gazed
+at the bell, while Hans explained to him what
+made the music and the great tolling tones that
+came from it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>255]</a></span>
+&ldquo;The whole world loves the great bell,
+brother Carl,&rdquo; said Hans. &ldquo;Mother thinks
+that last night it rang in the great blessing
+which the Christ-child had promised.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What did the little Christ-child promise,
+brother?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you remember, little Carl? Mother
+told us that the Christ-child would send little
+children a beautiful gift; I think it must
+be the New Year that he has sent, for that is
+what the old bell brought to us last night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And Hans lifted little Carl, and he kissed
+the beautiful bell on its great round lip, and
+the bell was still warm from its long ringing.</p>
+
+<p>And they stood and looked at the bell quietly
+for a long time. And then they said, &ldquo;Good-bye,
+dear great bell,&rdquo; and they went down the
+dark ladder again.</p>
+
+<p>Hans put on his wooden shoes at the foot
+of the ladder, and with flying feet they crossed
+the church garden, and there stood the dear
+mother in the door looking for them. She had
+found their little bed empty, and was just starting
+out to find them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Mother, we have been in the tower to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>256]</a></span>
+thank the great bell for bringing the New
+Year,&rdquo; cried Hans.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did the Christ-child send it, Mother?&rdquo;
+asked little Carl.</p>
+
+<p>The mother stooped and put her arms about
+them and kissed them both. As she led them
+into the room she said, &ldquo;Yes, my little ones, the
+Christ-child sends the New Year.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h3><a name="bk4chap06" id="bk4chap06"></a>THE NEW YEAR</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Snow-wrapped and holly-decked it comes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">To richest and to poorest homes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twelve jeweled months all set with days<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of priceless opportunities.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A silver moon, a golden sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With diamond stars when day is done;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Over all a sapphire sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where pearly clouds go floating by.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">(<i>Selected.</i>)<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>257]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk4chap07" id="bk4chap07"></a>THE CHILD AND THE YEAR</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Said the child to the youthful year:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">&ldquo;What hast thou in store for me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O giver of beautiful gifts! what cheer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">What joy dost thou bring with thee?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;My seasons four shall bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their treasures: the winter&rsquo;s snows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The autumn&rsquo;s store, and the flowers of spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the summer&rsquo;s perfect rose.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;All these and more shall be thine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dear child&mdash;but the last and best<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thyself must earn by a strife divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If thou wouldst be truly blest.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Celia Thaxter.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>258]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk4chap08" id="bk4chap08"></a>A MASQUE OF THE DAYS</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Charles Lamb</p>
+
+
+<p>The Old Year being dead, and the New Year
+coming of age, which he does, by calendar law
+as soon as the breath is out of the old gentleman&rsquo;s
+body, nothing would serve the young
+spark, but he must give a dinner upon the occasion,
+to which all the Days in the year were
+invited. The Festivals, whom he deputed as
+his stewards, were mightily taken with the notion.
+They had been engaged time out of
+mind, they said, in providing mirth and good
+cheer for mortals below, and it was time they
+should have a taste of their own bounty.</p>
+
+<p>It was stiffly debated among them whether
+the Fasts should be admitted. Some said the
+appearance of such lean, starved guests, with
+their mortified faces, would pervert the ends
+of the meeting. But the objection was overruled
+by Christmas Day, who had a design
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>259]</a></span>
+upon Ash Wednesday (as you shall hear), and
+a mighty desire to see how the old Domine
+would behave himself in his cups. Only the
+Vigils were requested to come with their lanterns
+to light the gentlefolk home at night.</p>
+
+<p>All the Days came. Covers were provided
+for three hundred and sixty-five guests at the
+principal table; with an occasional knife and
+fork at the sideboard for the Twenty-ninth of
+February.</p>
+
+<p>Cards of invitation had been issued. The
+carriers were the Hours; twelve little, merry,
+whirligig foot-pages that went all round and
+found out the person invited, with the exception
+of Easter Day, Shrove Tuesday, and a few
+such movables, who had lately shifted their
+quarters.</p>
+
+<p>Well, they all met at last, foul Days, fine
+Days, all sorts of Days, and a rare din they
+made of it. There was nothing but &ldquo;Hail, fellow
+Day! well met!&rdquo; only Lady Day seemed
+a little scornful. Yet some said Twelfth Day
+cut her out, for she came all royal and glittering
+and Epiphanous. The rest came in green,
+some in white, but old Lent and his family
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>260]</a></span>
+were not yet out of mourning. Rainy Days
+came in dripping, and Sunshiny Days laughing.
+Wedding Day was there in marriage
+finery. Pay Day came late, and Doomsday
+sent word he might be expected.</p>
+
+<p>April Fool took upon himself to marshal
+the guests, and May Day, with that sweetness
+peculiar to her, proposed the health of the
+host. This being done, the lordly New Year,
+from the upper end of the table, returned
+thanks. Ash Wednesday, being now called
+upon for a song, struck up a carol, which
+Christmas Day had taught him. Shrovetide,
+Lord Mayor&rsquo;s Day, and April Fool next
+joined in a glee, in which all the Days, chiming
+in, made a merry burden.</p>
+
+<p>All this while Valentine&rsquo;s Day kept courting
+pretty May, who sat next him, slipping
+amorous billet-doux under the table till the
+Dog Days began to be jealous and to bark and
+rage exceedingly.</p>
+
+<p>At last the Days called for their cloaks and
+great-coats, and took their leave. Shortest
+Day went off in a deep black fog that wrapped
+the little gentleman all round. Two Vigils&mdash;so
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>261]</a></span>
+watchmen are called in Heaven&mdash;saw
+Christmas Day safe home; they had been used
+to the business before. Another Vigil&mdash;a
+stout, sturdy patrol, called the Eve of St.
+Christopher&mdash;seeing Ash Wednesday in a condition
+little better than he should be, e&rsquo;en
+whipt him over his shoulders, pick-a-pack
+fashion, and he went floating home, singing:</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;On the bat&rsquo;s back do I fly,&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>and a number of old snatches besides. Longest
+Day set off westward in beautiful crimson
+and gold; the rest, some in one fashion, some
+in another; but Valentine and pretty May took
+their departure together in one of the prettiest
+silvery twilights a Lover&rsquo;s Day could wish to
+set in.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>262]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk4chap09" id="bk4chap09"></a>RING OUT, WILD BELLS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The flying cloud, the frosty light:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The year is dying in the night;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ring out the old, ring in the new,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Ring, happy bells, across the snow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The year is going, let him go;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ring out the false, ring in the true.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Alfred Tennyson.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"><!-- no visible page number --></a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="padtop"><a name="book5" id="book5"></a>MIDWINTER</h2>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>264]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="padtop"><a name="bk5chap01" id="bk5chap01"></a>THE BELLS</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Hear the sledges with the bells&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Silver bells!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What a world of merriment their melody foretells!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">In the icy air of night!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While the stars, that oversprinkle<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All the heavens, seem to twinkle<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With a crystalline delight;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Keeping time, time, time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In a sort of Runic rhyme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the bells, bells, bells&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Bells, bells, bells&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Edgar Allen Poe.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>265]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk5chap02" id="bk5chap02"></a>A JANUARY THAW</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Dallas Lore Sharp</p>
+
+
+<p>It was the twenty-first of January&mdash;the dead
+of winter! The stubborn cold had had the
+out of doors under lock and key since Thanksgiving
+Day. We were having a hard winter,
+and the novelty of the thing was beginning to
+wear off&mdash;to us grown-ups anyhow, and to the
+birds and wild things which for weeks had
+found scant picking over the ice and snow.
+But I was snug enough in my upstairs study,
+when suddenly the door opened and four bebundled
+boys stood before me, with an axe,
+a long-handled shovel, a basket, and, evidently,
+a big secret.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come on, father,&rdquo; they whispered (as if
+she hadn&rsquo;t heard them clomping with their
+kit through the house!), &ldquo;it&rsquo;s mother&rsquo;s birthday
+to-morrow, and we&rsquo;re going after the flowers.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Going to chop them down with the axe or
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>266]</a></span>
+dig them up with the shovel?&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;Going
+to give her a nice bunch of frost-flowers?
+Better get the ice-saw then, for we&rsquo;ll need a
+big block of ice to stick their stems in.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hurry,&rdquo; they answered, dropping my hip-boots
+on the floor. &ldquo;Here are your scuffs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>I hurried, and soon the five of us, in single
+file were out on the meadow, the dry snow
+squeaking under our feet, while the little
+winds, capering spitefully about us, blew the
+snow-dust into our faces or catching up the
+thin drifts sent them whirling like waltzing
+wraiths of dancers over the meadow&rsquo;s glittering
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>I was beginning to warm up a little, but it
+was a numb, stiff world about us, and bleak
+and stark, a world all black and white, for
+there was not even blue overhead. The white
+underfoot ran off to meet the black of the
+woods, and the woods in turn stood dark
+against a sky so heavy with snow that it
+seemed to shut us into some vast snow cave.
+A crow flapping over drew a black pencil line
+across the picture&mdash;the one sign of life besides
+ourselves that we could see. Only small boys
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>267]</a></span>
+are likely to leave their firesides on such a day&mdash;only
+small boys, and those men who can&rsquo;t
+grow up. Yet never before, perhaps, had even
+they gone out on such a tramp with an axe, a
+shovel, and a basket, to pick flowers!</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly one of the boys dashed off, crying:
+&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s go see if the muskrats have gone to bed
+yet!&rdquo; and, trailing after him, we made for a
+little mound that stood about three feet high
+out in the meadow, more like a big ant hill or
+a small, snow-piled haycock, than a lodge of
+any sort. Only a practiced eye could have
+seen it, and only a lover of bleak days would
+have known what might be alive in there.</p>
+
+<p>We crept up softly and surrounded the
+lodge; then with the axe we struck the frozen,
+flinty roof several ringing blows. Instantly
+one-two-three muffled, splashy &ldquo;plunks&rdquo; were
+heard as three little muskrats, frightened out
+of their naps and half out of their wits,
+plunged into the open water of their doorways
+from off their damp, but cosy couch.</p>
+
+<p>It was a mean thing to do&mdash;but not very
+mean as wild animal life goes. And it did
+warm me up so, in spite of the chilly plunge
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>268]</a></span>
+the little sleepers took! Chilly to them? Not
+at all and that is why it warmed me. To hear
+the splash of water down under the two feet
+of ice and snow that sealed the meadow like
+a sheet of steel! To hear the sounds of stirring
+life, and to picture that snug, steaming bed on
+the top of a tough old tussock, with its open
+water-doors leading into freedom and plenty
+below! &ldquo;Why, it won&rsquo;t be long before the arbutus
+is in bloom,&rdquo; I began to think. I looked
+at the axe and the shovel and said to myself,
+&ldquo;Well, the boys may know what they are
+doing after all, though three muskrats do not
+make a spring.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>We had cut back to our path, but had not
+gone ten paces along it before another boy was
+off to the left in the direction of a piece of
+maple swamp.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s going to see if &lsquo;Hairy&rsquo; is in his hole,&rdquo;
+they informed me, and we all took after him.
+The &ldquo;hole&rdquo; was almost twenty-five feet up in
+a dead oak stub that had blown off and lodged
+against a live tree. The meadow had been
+bleak and wind-swept, but the swamp was
+naked and dead, filled with ice and touched
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>269]</a></span>
+with a most forbidding emptiness and stillness.
+I was getting cold again, when the boy
+ahead tapped lightly on the old stub, and at
+the empty hole appeared a head&mdash;a fierce
+black and white head, a sharp, long beak, a
+flashing eye&mdash;as &ldquo;Hairy&rdquo; came forth to fight
+for his castle. He was too wise a fighter to
+tackle all of us, however, so, slipping out, he
+spread his wings and galloped off with a loud,
+wild call that set all the swamp to ringing.</p>
+
+<p>It was a thrilling, defiant challenge that set
+my blood to leaping again. Black and white,
+he was a part of the picture, but there was a
+scarlet band at the nape of his neck that, like
+his call, had fire in it and the warmth of life.</p>
+
+<p>As his woodpecker shout went booming
+through the hollow halls of the swamp, it woke
+a blue jay who squalled back from a clump of
+pines, then wavering out into the open on curious
+wings&mdash;flashing ice-blue and snow-white
+wings&mdash;he dived into the covert of pines
+again; and faint, as if from beyond the swamp,
+the cheep of chickadees! Here a little troop
+of them came to peep into the racket, curious
+but not excited, discussing the disturbance of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>270]</a></span>
+the solemn swamp in that desultory, sewing-bee
+fashion of theirs, as if nipping off threads
+and squinting through needle-eyes between
+their running comment.</p>
+
+<p>They, too, were grey and black, grey as the
+swamp beeches, black as the spotted bark of
+the birches. And how tiny! But&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Here was this atom in full breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hurling defiance at vast death&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This scrap of valour just for play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fronts the north wind in waistcoat grey.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And this, also, is what Emerson says he sings,</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Good day, good sir!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fine afternoon, old passenger!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Happy to meet you in these places<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where January brings few faces.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And as I brought to mind the poet&rsquo;s lines, I
+forgot to shiver, and quite warmed up again
+to the idea of flowers, especially as one of the
+boys just then brought up a spray of green
+holly with a burning red berry on it!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>271]</a></span>
+We were tacking again to get back on our
+course, and had got into the edge of the swamp
+among the pines when the boy with the shovel
+began to study the ground and the trees with a
+searching eye, moving forward and back as if
+trying to find the location of something.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here it is,&rdquo; he said, and set in digging
+through the snow at the foot of a big pine. I
+knew what he was after. It was gold thread,
+and here was the only spot, in all the woods
+about, where we had ever found it&mdash;a spot not
+larger than the top of a dining-room table.</p>
+
+<p>Soon we had a fistful of the delicate plants
+with their evergreen leaflets and long, golden
+thread-like roots, that mixed with the red and
+green of the partridge berry in a finger-bowl
+makes a cheerful little winter bouquet. And
+here with the gold thread, about the butt of
+the pine, was the partridge berry, too, the
+dainty vines strung with the beads which
+seemed to burn holes in the snow that had covered
+and banked the tiny fires.</p>
+
+<p>For this is all that the ice and snow had
+done. The winter had come with wind
+enough to blow out every flame in the maple
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>272]</a></span>
+tops, and with snow enough to smother every
+little fire in the peat bogs of the swamp; but
+peat fires are hard to put out, and here and
+everywhere the winter had only banked the
+fires of summer. Dig down through the snow
+ashes anywhere and the smouldering fires of
+life burst into blaze.</p>
+
+<p>But the boy with the axe had gone on ahead.
+And we were off again after him, stopping to
+get a great armful of black alder branches that
+were literally aflame with red berries.</p>
+
+<p>We were climbing a piny knoll when almost
+at our feet, jumping us nearly out of our skins,
+and warming the very roots of our hair, was
+a burrrr&mdash;burrrr&mdash;burrrr&mdash;burrrr&mdash;four big
+partridges&mdash;as if four big snow mines had exploded
+under us, hurling bunches of brown on
+graceful scaling wings over the dip of the
+hills!</p>
+
+<p>On we went up over the knoll and down into
+a low bog where, in the summer, we gather
+high-bush blueberries, the boy with the axe
+leading the way and going straight across the
+ice toward the middle of the bog.</p>
+
+<p>My eye was keen for signs, and soon I saw
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>273]</a></span>
+he was heading for a sweet-pepper bush with
+a broken branch. My eye took in another bush
+off a little to the right with a broken branch.
+The boy with the axe walked up to the broken
+sweet-pepper bush and drew a line on the ice
+between it and the bush off on the right, pacing
+along this line till he got the middle; then
+he started at right angles from it and paced off
+a line to a clump of cat-tails sticking up
+through the ice of the flooded bog. Halfway
+back on this line he stopped, threw off his coat
+and began to chop a hole about two feet square
+in the ice. Removing the block while I looked
+on, he rolled up his sleeve and reached down
+the length of his arm through the icy water.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me the shovel,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s down
+here,&rdquo; and with a few deep, dexterous cuts
+soon brought to the surface a beautiful cluster
+of pitcher plants, the strange, almost uncanny
+leaves filled with muddy water, but
+every pitcher of them intact, shaped and
+veined and tinted by a master potter&rsquo;s hand.</p>
+
+<p>We wrapped it all carefully in newspapers,
+and put it in the basket, starting back with our
+bouquet as cheerful and as full of joy in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>274]</a></span>
+season as we could possibly have been in June.</p>
+
+<p>No, I did not say that we love January as
+much as we love June. January here in New
+England is a mixture of rheumatism, chillblains,
+frozen water pipes, mittens, overshoes,
+blocked trains, and automobile troubles by the
+hoodsful, whereas any automobile will run in
+June. I have not room in this essay to tell all
+that June is; besides, this is a story of January.</p>
+
+<p>What I was saying is that we started home
+all abloom with our pitcher plants, and gold
+thread, and partridge berry, and holly, and
+black alder, all aglow inside with our vigorous
+tramp, with the grey, grave beauty of the
+landscape, with the stern joy of meeting and
+beating the cold, and with the signs of life&mdash;of
+the cosy muskrats in their lodge beneath the
+ice cap on the meadow; with the hairy woodpecker
+in his deep, warm hole in the heart of
+the tree; with the red-warm berries in our
+basket; with the chirping, the conquering
+chickadee accompanying us and singing&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;For well the soul, if stout within,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can arm impregnably the skin;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>275]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And polar frost my form defied<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made of the air that blows outside.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And actually as we came over the bleak
+meadow one of the boys said he thought he
+heard a song sparrow singing; and I thought
+the pussywillows by the brook had opened a
+little since we passed them coming out; and
+we all declared the weather had changed, and
+that there were signs of a break-up. But the
+thermometer stood at fifteen above zero when
+we got home&mdash;one degree colder than when
+we started! So we concluded that the January
+thaw must have come off inside of us;
+and if the colour of the four glowing faces is
+any sign, that was the correct reading of the
+weather.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>276]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk5chap03" id="bk5chap03"></a>THE SNOW MAN</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Hans Christian Andersen</p>
+
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is so wonderfully cold that my whole body
+crackles!&rdquo; said the Snow Man. &ldquo;This is a
+kind of wind that can blow life into one; and
+how the gleaming one up yonder is staring at
+me.&rdquo; That was the sun he meant, which was
+just about to set. &ldquo;It shall not make me wink&mdash;I
+shall manage to keep the pieces.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He had two triangular pieces of tile in his
+head instead of eyes. His mouth was made of
+an old rake, and consequently was furnished
+with teeth.</p>
+
+<p>He had been born amid the joyous shouts of
+the boys, and welcomed by the sound of sledge
+bells and the slashing of whips.</p>
+
+<p>The sun went down, and the full moon rose,
+round, large, clear, and beautiful in the blue
+air.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There it comes again from the other side,&rdquo;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>277]</a></span>
+said the Snow Man. He intended to say the
+sun is showing himself again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! I have cured him of staring. Now
+let him hang up there and shine, that I may
+see myself. If I only knew how I could manage
+to move from this place, I should like so
+much to move. If I could, I would slide along
+yonder on the ice, just as I see the boys slide;
+but I don&rsquo;t understand it; I don&rsquo;t know how to
+run.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Away! away!&rdquo; barked the old Yard Dog.
+He was quite hoarse, and could not pronounce
+the genuine &ldquo;Bow, wow.&rdquo; He had got the
+hoarseness from the time when he was an indoor
+dog, and lay by the fire. &ldquo;The sun will
+teach you to run! I saw that last winter in
+your predecessor, and before that in his predecessor.
+Away! away! and away they all go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand you, comrade,&rdquo; said the
+Snow Man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That thing up yonder is to teach me to
+run?&rdquo; He meant the moon. &ldquo;Yes, it comes
+creeping from the other side.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know nothing at all,&rdquo; retorted the
+Yard Dog. &ldquo;But then you&rsquo;ve only just been
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>278]</a></span>
+patched up. What you see yonder is the moon,
+and the one that went before the sun. It will
+come again to-morrow, and will teach you to
+run down into the ditch by the wall. We
+shall soon have a change of weather; I can feel
+that in my left hind leg, for it pricks and pains
+me; the weather is going to change.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand him,&rdquo; said the Snow
+Man; &ldquo;but I have a feeling that he&rsquo;s talking
+about something disagreeable. The one who
+stared so just now, and whom he called the
+sun, is not my friend. I can feel that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Away! Away!&rdquo; barked the Yard Dog.
+&ldquo;They told me I was a pretty little fellow:
+then I used to lie in a chair covered with velvet,
+up in master&rsquo;s house, and sit in the lap of
+the mistress of all. They used to kiss my nose,
+and wipe my paws with an embroidered handkerchief.
+I was called &lsquo;Ami&mdash;dear Ami&mdash;sweet
+Ami&mdash;&mdash;.&rsquo; But afterward I grew too
+big for them, and they gave me away to the
+housekeeper. So I came to live in the basement
+story. You can look into that from
+where you are standing, and you can see into
+the room where I was master; for I was master
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>279]</a></span>
+at the housekeeper&rsquo;s. It was certainly a
+smaller place than upstairs, but I was more
+comfortable and was not continually taken
+hold of and pulled about by children as I had
+been. I received just as much good food as
+ever, and even better. I had my own cushion,
+and there was a stove, the finest thing in the
+world at this season. I went under the stove,
+and could lie down quite beneath it. Ah! I
+will sometimes dream of that stove. Away!
+Away!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does a stove look so beautiful?&rdquo; asked the
+Snow Man. &ldquo;Is it at all like me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s just the reverse of you. It&rsquo;s as black as
+a crow, and has a long neck and a brazen
+drum. It eats firewood, so that the fire spurts
+out of its mouth. One must keep at its side
+or under it, and there one is very comfortable.
+You can see it through the window from where
+you stand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And the Snow Man looked and saw a bright,
+polished thing, with a brazen drum, and the
+fire gleamed from the lower part of it. The
+Snow Man felt quite strangely; an odd emotion
+came over him; he knew not what it
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>280]</a></span>
+meant, and could not account for it, but
+all people who are not men know the feeling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And why did you leave her?&rdquo; asked the
+Snow Man, for it seemed to him that the stove
+must be of the female sex.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How could you quit such a comfortable
+place?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was obliged,&rdquo; replied the Yard Dog.
+&ldquo;They turned me out of doors, and chained
+me up here. I had bitten the youngest young
+master in the leg, because he kicked away the
+bone I was gnawing. &lsquo;Bone for bone,&rsquo; I
+thought. They took that very much amiss,
+and from that time I have been fastened to a
+chain and have lost my voice. Don&rsquo;t you hear
+how hoarse I am? Away! away! I can&rsquo;t talk
+any more like other dogs. Away! away! That
+was the end of the affair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the Snow Man was no longer listening
+at him. He was looking in at the housekeeper&rsquo;s
+basement lodging, into the room where the
+stove stood on its four legs, just the same size
+as the Snow Man himself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a strange crackling within me!&rdquo; he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>281]</a></span>
+said. &ldquo;Shall I ever get in there? It is an innocent
+wish, and our innocent wishes are certain
+to be fulfilled. I must go in there and
+lean against her, even if I have to break
+through the window.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll never get in there,&rdquo; said the Yard
+Dog; &ldquo;and if you approach the stove you&rsquo;ll
+melt away&mdash;away!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am as good as gone,&rdquo; replied the Snow
+Man. &ldquo;I think I am breaking up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The whole day the Snow Man stood looking
+in through the window. In the twilight hour
+the room became still more inviting; from the
+stove came a mild gleam, not like the sun nor
+like the moon; it was only as the stove can
+glow when he has something to eat. When the
+room door opened the flame started out of his
+mouth; this was a habit the stove had. The
+flame fell distinctly on the white face of the
+Snow Man, and gleamed red upon his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can endure it no longer,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;How
+beautiful it looks when it stretches out its
+tongue!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The night was long; but it did not appear
+long to the Snow Man, who stood there lost in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>282]</a></span>
+his own charming reflections, crackling with
+the cold.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning the window-panes of the
+basement lodging were covered with ice.
+They bore the most beautiful ice flowers that
+any snow man could desire; but they concealed
+the stove, which he pictured to himself as a
+lovely female. It crackled and whistled in
+him and around him; it was just the kind of
+frosty weather a snow man must thoroughly
+enjoy.</p>
+
+<p>But he did not enjoy it; and, indeed, how
+could he enjoy himself when he was stove-sick?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a terrible disease for a Snow Man,&rdquo;
+said the Yard Dog. &ldquo;I have suffered from it
+myself, but I got over it. Away! away!&rdquo; he
+barked; and he added, &ldquo;the weather is going to
+change.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And the weather did change; it began to
+thaw. The warmth increased, and the Snow
+Man decreased. He made no complaint&mdash;and
+that&rsquo;s an infallible sign.</p>
+
+<p>One morning he broke down. And, behold,
+where he had stood, something like a broomstick
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>283]</a></span>
+remained sticking up out of the ground.
+It was the pole around which the boys had
+built him up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! now I can understand why he had such
+an intense longing,&rdquo; said the Yard Dog.
+&ldquo;Why, there&rsquo;s a shovel for cleaning out the
+stove-rake in his body, and that&rsquo;s what moved
+within him. Now he has got over that, too.
+Away, away!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And soon they had got over the winter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Away! away!&rdquo; barked the hoarse Yard
+Dog. And nobody thought any more of the
+Snow Man.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>284]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk5chap04" id="bk5chap04"></a>THE HAPPY PRINCE</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Oscar Wilde</p>
+
+
+<p>High above the city, on a tall column, stood
+the statue of the Happy Prince. He was
+gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold,
+for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a
+large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt. He
+was very much admired, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is as beautiful as a weathercock,&rdquo; remarked
+one of the Town Councillors who
+wished to gain a reputation for having artistic
+taste. &ldquo;Only not quite so useful,&rdquo; he added,
+fearing lest people should think him unpractical,
+which he really was not.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why can&rsquo;t you be like the Happy Prince?&rdquo;
+asked a sensible mother of her little boy who
+was crying for the moon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Happy Prince never dreams of crying
+for anything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad there is some one in the world
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>285]</a></span>
+who is quite happy,&rdquo; muttered a disappointed
+man, as he gazed at the wonderful statue.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He looks just like an angel,&rdquo; said the charity
+children, as they came out of the cathedral
+in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean
+white pinafores.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you know?&rdquo; said Mathematical
+Master. &ldquo;You have never seen one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! but we have in our dreams,&rdquo; answered
+the children; and the Mathematical Master
+frowned and looked very severe, for he did not
+approve of children dreaming.</p>
+
+<p>One night there flew over the city a little
+Swallow. His friends had gone away to
+Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind,
+for he was in love with the most beautiful
+Reed. He had met her early in the spring
+as he was flying down the river after a big yellow
+moth, and had been so attracted by her
+slender waist that he had stopped to talk to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I love you?&rdquo; said the Swallow, who
+liked to come to the point at once, and the
+Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round
+and round her, touching the water with his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>286]</a></span>
+wings, and making silver ripples. This was
+his courtship, and it lasted all through the
+summer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a ridiculous attachment,&rdquo; twittered
+the other Swallows, &ldquo;she has no money, and
+far too many relations&rdquo;; and, indeed, the river
+was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn
+came, they all flew away.</p>
+
+<p>After they had gone he felt lonely, and began
+to tire of his lady-love. &ldquo;She has no conversation,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;and I am afraid that she
+is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the
+wind.&rdquo; And, certainly, whenever the wind
+blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtsies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I admit that she is domestic,&rdquo; he continued,
+&ldquo;but I love traveling, and my wife, consequently,
+should love traveling, also.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you come away with me?&rdquo; he said
+finally to her; but the Reed shook her head,
+she was so attached to her home.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have been trifling with me,&rdquo; he cried.
+&ldquo;I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!&rdquo; and
+he flew away.</p>
+
+<p>All day long he flew, and at night-time he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>287]</a></span>
+arrived at the city. &ldquo;Where shall I put up?&rdquo;
+he said; &ldquo;I hope the town has made preparations.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he saw the statue on the tall column.
+&ldquo;I will put up there,&rdquo; he cried; &ldquo;it is a fine
+position with plenty of fresh air.&rdquo; So he
+alighted just between the feet of the Happy
+Prince.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have a golden bedroom,&rdquo; he said softly
+to himself, as he looked round, and he prepared
+to go to sleep; but just as he was putting
+his head under his wing a large drop of water
+fell on him. &ldquo;What a curious thing!&rdquo; he cried,
+&ldquo;there is not a single cloud in the sky,
+the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it
+is raining. The climate in the north of Europe
+is really dreadful. The Reed used to like
+the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then another drop fell.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep
+the rain off?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I must look for a
+good chimney-pot,&rdquo; and he determined to fly
+away.</p>
+
+<p>But before he had opened his wings a third
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>288]</a></span>
+drop fell, and he looked up, and saw&mdash;Ah!
+what did he see?</p>
+
+<p>The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled
+with tears, and tears were running down his
+golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in
+the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled
+with pity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am the Happy Prince.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why are you weeping then?&rdquo; asked the
+Swallow; &ldquo;you have quite drenched me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I was alive and had a human heart,&rdquo;
+answered the statue, &ldquo;I did not know what
+tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci,
+where sorrow is not allowed to enter.
+In the daytime I played with my companions
+in the garden, and in the evening I led the
+dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden
+ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to
+ask what lay beyond it, everything about me
+was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the
+Happy Prince, and happy, indeed, I was, if
+pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I
+died. And now that I am dead they have set
+me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>289]</a></span>
+and all the misery of my city, and though
+my heart is made of lead, yet I cannot choose
+but weep.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, is he not solid gold?&rdquo; said the Swallow
+to himself. He was too polite to make
+any personal remarks out loud.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Far away,&rdquo; continued the statue in a low,
+musical voice, &ldquo;far away in a little street there
+is a poor house. One of the windows is open,
+and through it I can see a woman seated at a
+table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has
+coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle,
+for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering
+passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest
+of the Queen&rsquo;s maids-of-honour to wear
+at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner
+of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has
+a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother
+has nothing to give him but water, so he is crying.
+Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will
+you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt?
+My feet are fastened to this pedestal
+and I cannot move.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am waited for in Egypt,&rdquo; said the Swallow.
+&ldquo;My friends are flying up and down the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>290]</a></span>
+Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers.
+Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the
+great King. The King is there himself in his
+painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow
+linen and embalmed with spices. Round his
+neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his
+hands are like withered leaves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,&rdquo; said
+the Prince, &ldquo;will you not stay with me for one
+night, and be my messenger? The boy is so
+thirsty and the mother so sad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I like boys,&rdquo; answered the
+Swallow. &ldquo;Last summer, when I was staying
+on the river, there were two rude boys, the
+miller&rsquo;s sons, who were always throwing stones
+at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows
+fly far too well for that, and, besides, I
+come of a family famous for its agility; but
+still, it was a mark of disrespect.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the
+little Swallow was sorry. &ldquo;It is very cold
+here,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but I will stay with you for
+one night, and be your messenger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, little Swallow,&rdquo; said the
+Prince.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>291]</a></span>
+So the Swallow picked out the great ruby
+from the Prince&rsquo;s sword, and flew away with
+it in his beak over the roofs of the town.</p>
+
+<p>He passed by the cathedral tower, where the
+white marble angels were sculptured. He
+passed by the palace and heard the sound of
+dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the
+balcony with her lover. &ldquo;How wonderful the
+stars are,&rdquo; he said to her, &ldquo;and how wonderful
+is the power of love!&rdquo; &ldquo;I hope my dress will
+be ready in time for the State-ball,&rdquo; she answered.
+&ldquo;I have ordered passion-flowers to
+be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are
+so lazy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns
+hanging to the masts of the ships. He
+passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews
+bargaining with each other, and weighing out
+money in copper scales. At last he came to the
+poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing
+feverishly on his bed, and the mother had
+fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped,
+and laid the great ruby on the table beside the
+woman&rsquo;s thimble. Then he flew gently round
+the bed, fanning the boy&rsquo;s forehead with his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>292]</a></span>
+wings. &ldquo;How cool I feel,&rdquo; said the boy, &ldquo;I
+must be getting better,&rdquo; and he sank into a delicious
+slumber.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy
+Prince, and told him what he had done. &ldquo;It
+is curious,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;but I feel quite
+warm now, although it is so cold.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is because you have done a good action,&rdquo;
+said the Prince. And the little Swallow
+began to think, and then he fell asleep.
+Thinking always made him sleepy.</p>
+
+<p>When day broke he flew down to the river
+and had a bath. &ldquo;What a remarkable phenomenon,&rdquo;
+said the professor of Ornithology
+as he was passing over the bridge. &ldquo;A swallow
+in winter!&rdquo; And he wrote a long letter
+about it to the local newspaper. Everyone
+quoted it; it was full of so many words that
+they could not understand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To-night I go to Egypt,&rdquo; said the Swallow,
+and he was in high spirits at the prospect.
+He visited all the public monuments, and sat
+a long time on top of the church steeple.
+Wherever he went, Sparrows chirruped, and
+said to each other, &ldquo;What a distinguished
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>293]</a></span>
+stranger!&rdquo; so he enjoyed himself very much.</p>
+
+<p>When the moon rose he flew back to the
+Happy Prince. &ldquo;Have you any commissions
+for Egypt?&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I am just starting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,&rdquo; said
+the Prince, &ldquo;will you not stay with me one
+night longer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am waited for in Egypt,&rdquo; answered the
+Swallow. &ldquo;To-morrow my friends will fly
+up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse
+couches there among the bulrushes, and on a
+great granite throne sits the God Memnon.
+All night long he watches the stars, and when
+the morning star shines he utters one cry of
+joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow
+lions came down to the water&rsquo;s edge to drink.
+They have eyes like green beryls, and their
+roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,&rdquo; said
+the Prince, &ldquo;far away across the city I see a
+young man in a garret. He is leaning over a
+desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by
+his side there is a bunch of withered violets.
+His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are
+red as pomegranate, and he has large and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>294]</a></span>
+dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for
+the Director of the Theater, but he is too cold
+to write any more. There is no fire in the
+grate, and hunger has made him faint.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will wait with you one night longer,&rdquo;
+said the Swallow, who really had a good heart.
+&ldquo;Shall I take him another ruby?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alas! I have no ruby now,&rdquo; said the
+Prince; &ldquo;my eyes are all that I have left.
+They are made of rare sapphires, which were
+brought out of India a thousand years ago.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pluck out one of them and take it to him.
+He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food
+and firewood, and finish his play.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear Prince,&rdquo; said the Swallow, &ldquo;I cannot
+do that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,&rdquo; said
+the Prince, &ldquo;do as I command you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So the Swallow plucked out the Prince&rsquo;s
+eye, and flew away to the student&rsquo;s garret. It
+was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole
+in the roof. Through this he darted, and came
+into the room. The young man had his head
+buried in his hands, so he did not hear the
+flutter of the bird&rsquo;s wings, and when he looked
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>295]</a></span>
+up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on
+the withered violets.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am beginning to be appreciated,&rdquo; he
+cried; &ldquo;this is from some great admirer. Now
+I can finish my play,&rdquo; and he looked quite
+happy.</p>
+
+<p>The next day the Swallow flew down to the
+harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel
+and watched the sailors hauling big chests out
+of the hold with ropes. &ldquo;Heave a-hoy!&rdquo; they
+shouted, as each chest came up: &ldquo;I am going to
+Egypt!&rdquo; cried the Swallow, but nobody
+minded, and when the moon rose he flew back
+to the Happy Prince.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am come to bid you good-bye,&rdquo; he cried.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,&rdquo; said
+the Prince, &ldquo;will you not stay with me one
+night longer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is winter,&rdquo; answered the Swallow, &ldquo;and
+the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt
+the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and
+the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily
+about them. My companions are building
+a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink
+and white doves are watching them, and cooing
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>296]</a></span>
+to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave
+you, but I will never forget you, and next
+spring I will bring you back two beautiful
+jewels in place of those you have given away.
+The ruby shall be redder than a rose, and the
+sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the square below,&rdquo; said the Happy
+Prince, &ldquo;there stands a little match-girl. She
+has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they
+are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if
+she does not bring home some money, and she
+is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and
+her little head is bare. Pluck out my other
+eye, and give it to her, and her father will not
+beat her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will stay with you one night longer,&rdquo;
+said the Swallow, &ldquo;but I cannot pluck out your
+eye. You would be quite blind then.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,&rdquo; said
+the Prince, &ldquo;do as I command you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So he plucked out the Prince&rsquo;s other eye and
+darted down with it. He swooped past the
+match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the
+palm of her hand. &ldquo;What a lovely bit of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>297]</a></span>
+glass,&rdquo; cried the little girl; and she ran home,
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Swallow came back to the Prince.
+&ldquo;You are blind now,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;so I will stay
+with you always.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, little Swallow,&rdquo; said the poor Prince,
+&ldquo;you must go away to Egypt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will stay with you always,&rdquo; said the Swallow,
+and he slept at the Prince&rsquo;s feet.</p>
+
+<p>All the next day he sat on the Prince&rsquo;s shoulder,
+and told him stories of what he had seen
+in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises,
+who stand in long rows on the banks of
+the Nile and catch gold-fish in their beaks;
+of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself,
+and lives in the desert, and knows everything;
+of the merchants, who walk slowly by
+the side of their camels, and carry amber beads
+in their hands; of the King of the Mountains
+of the moon, who is as black as ebony, and
+worships a large crystal; of the great, green
+snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty
+priests to feed it with honey cakes; and of the
+pygmies who sail over a big lake on large, flat
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>298]</a></span>
+leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear little Swallow,&rdquo; said the Prince, &ldquo;you
+tell me of marvelous things, but more marvelous
+than anything is the suffering of men and
+women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery.
+Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell
+me what you see there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So the Swallow flew over the great city, and
+saw the rich making merry in their beautiful
+houses, while the beggars were sitting at the
+gates. He flew into the dark lanes, and saw
+the white faces of starving children looking
+out listlessly at the black streets. Under the
+archway of a bridge two little boys were lying
+in one another&rsquo;s arms to try and keep themselves
+warm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How hungry we are!&rdquo; they said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must not lie here,&rdquo; shouted the watchman,
+and they wandered out into the rain.</p>
+
+<p>Then he flew back and told the Prince what
+he had seen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am covered with fine gold!&rdquo; said the
+Prince, &ldquo;you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>299]</a></span>
+give it to my poor; the living always think
+that gold can make them happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow
+picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite
+dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the gold he
+brought to the poor, and the children&rsquo;s faces
+grew rosier, and they laughed and played
+games in the street. &ldquo;We have bread now!&rdquo;
+they cried.</p>
+
+<p>Then the snow came, and after the snow
+came the frost. The streets looked as if they
+were made of silver, they were so bright and
+glistening; long icicles, like crystal daggers,
+hung down from the eaves of the houses,
+everybody went about in furs, and the little
+boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.</p>
+
+<p>The poor little Swallow grew colder and
+colder, but he would not leave the Prince; he
+loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside
+the baker&rsquo;s door when the baker was not
+looking, and tried to keep himself warm by
+flapping his wings.</p>
+
+<p>But at last he knew he was going to die. He
+had just strength to fly up to the Prince&rsquo;s shoulder
+once more.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>300]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Good-bye, dear Prince!&rdquo; he murmured.
+&ldquo;Will you let me kiss your hand?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad that you are going to Egypt at
+last, little Swallow,&rdquo; said the Prince. &ldquo;You
+have stayed too long here; but you must kiss
+me on the lips; for I love you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not to Egypt that I am going,&rdquo; said
+the Swallow. &ldquo;I am going to the House of
+Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he
+not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips,
+and fell down dead at his feet. At that moment
+a curious crack sounded inside the statue
+as if something had broken. The fact is that
+the leaden heart had snapped right in two.
+It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.</p>
+
+<p>Early the next morning the Mayor was
+walking in the square below in company with
+the Town Councillors. As they passed the
+column he looked up at the statue. &ldquo;Dear me!
+how shabby the Happy Prince looks!&rdquo; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How shabby, indeed!&rdquo; cried the Town
+Councillors, who always agreed with the
+Mayor, and they went up to look at it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>301]</a></span>
+eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,&rdquo;
+said the Mayor; &ldquo;in fact, he is little better than
+a beggar!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Little better than a beggar,&rdquo; said the Town
+Councillors. &ldquo;And here is actually a dead
+bird at his feet!&rdquo; continued the Mayor. &ldquo;We
+must really issue a proclamation that birds are
+not to be allowed to die here.&rdquo; And the Town
+Clerk made a note of the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>So they pulled down the statue of the Happy
+Prince. &ldquo;As he is no longer beautiful, he is
+no longer useful,&rdquo; said the Art Professor at
+the University.</p>
+
+<p>Then they melted the statue in a furnace,
+and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation
+to decide what was to be done with the
+metal. &ldquo;We must have another statue, of
+course,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and it shall be a statue of
+myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of myself,&rdquo; said each of the Town Councillors,
+and they quarreled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a strange thing!&rdquo; said the overseer
+of the workmen at the foundry. &ldquo;This broken
+lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We
+must throw it away.&rdquo; So they threw it on a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>302]</a></span>
+dust-heap where the dead swallow was also
+lying.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bring me the two most precious things in
+the city,&rdquo; said God to one of His angels; and
+the angel brought Him the leaden heart and
+the dead bird.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have rightly chosen,&rdquo; said God, &ldquo;for
+in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall
+sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the
+Happy Prince shall praise me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>303]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk5chap05" id="bk5chap05"></a>THE LEGEND OF KING WENCESLAUS</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(A Legend of Mercy)</p>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Good King Wenceslaus looked out<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the Feast of Saint Stephen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the snow lay round about,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Deep and crisp and even.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>King Wenceslaus sat in his palace. He had
+been watching from the narrow window of the
+turret chamber where he was, the sunset as its
+glory hung for a moment in the western
+clouds, and then died away over the blue hills.
+Calm and cold was the brightness. A freezing
+haze came over the face of the land. The
+moon brightened towards the southwest and
+the leafless trees in the castle gardens and the
+quaint turret and spires of the castle itself
+threw clear dark shadows on the unspotted
+snow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>304]</a></span>
+Still the king looked out upon the scene before
+him. The ground sloped down from the
+castle towards the forest. Here and there on
+the side of the hill a few bushes grey with
+moss broke the unvaried sheet of white. And
+as the king turned his eye in that direction a
+poor man came up to these bushes and pulled
+something from them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come hither, page,&rdquo; called the king. One
+of the servants of the palace entered in answer
+to the king&rsquo;s call. &ldquo;Come, my good Otto;
+come stand by me. Do you see yonder poor
+man on the hillside? Step down to him and
+learn who he is and where he dwells and what
+he is doing. Bring me word at once.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Otto went forth on his errand while the
+good king watched him go down the hill.
+Meanwhile, the frost grew more and more
+intense and an east wind blew from the black
+mountains. The snow became more crisp and
+the air more clear. In a few moments the
+messenger was back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, who is he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sire,&rdquo; said Otto, &ldquo;it is Rudolph, the swineherd,&mdash;he
+that lives down by the Brunweis.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>305]</a></span>
+Fire he has none, nor food, and he was gathering
+a few sticks where he might find them,
+lest, as he says, all his family perish with the
+cold. It is a most bitter night, Sire.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This should have been better looked to,&rdquo;
+said the king. &ldquo;A grievous fault it is that it
+has not been done. But it shall be amended
+now. Go to the ewery, Otto, and fetch some
+provisions of the best.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Bring me flesh and bring me wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bring me pine logs hither;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou and I will see him dine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">When we bear them hither.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is your Majesty going forth?&rdquo; asked
+Otto in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, to the Brunweis, and you shall go
+with me. When you have everything ready
+meet me at the wood-stacks by the little chapel.
+Come, be speedy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I pray you, Sire, do not venture out yourself.
+Let some of the men-at-arms go forth.
+It is a freezing wind and the place is a good
+league hence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>306]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Nevertheless, I go,&rdquo; said the king. &ldquo;Go
+with me, if you will, Otto; if not, stay. I can
+carry the food myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;God forbid, Sire, that I should let you go
+alone. But I pray you be persuaded.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not in this,&rdquo; said King Wenceslaus.
+&ldquo;Meet me then where I said, and not a word to
+any one besides.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The noblemen of the court were in the palace
+hall, where a mighty fire went roaring up
+the chimney and the shadows played and
+danced on the steep sides of the dark roof.
+Gayly they laughed and lightly they talked.
+And as they threw fresh logs into the great
+chimney-place one said to another that so bitter
+a wind had never before been known in
+the land. But in the midst of that freezing
+night the king went forth.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Page and Monarch forth they went,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Forth they went together;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the rude wind&rsquo;s wild lament,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the bitter weather.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The king had put on no extra clothing to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>307]</a></span>
+shelter himself from the nipping air; for he
+would feel with the poor that he might feel
+for them. On his shoulders he bore a heap of
+logs for the swineherd&rsquo;s fire. He stepped
+briskly on while Otto followed with the provisions.
+He had imitated his master and had
+gone out in his common garments. On the
+two trudged together, over the crisp snow,
+across fields, by lanes where the hedge trees
+were heavy with their white burden, past the
+pool, over the stile where the rime clustered
+thick by the wood, and on out upon the moor
+where the snow lay yet more unbroken and
+where the wind seemed to nip one&rsquo;s very
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Still King Wenceslaus went on and still
+Otto followed. The king thought it but little
+to go forth into the frost and snow, remembering
+Him who came into the cold night of
+this world of ours; he disdained not, a king,
+to go to the beggar, for had not the King of
+King&rsquo;s visited slaves? He grudged not, a king,
+to carry logs on his shoulders, for had not the
+Kings of Kings borne heavier burdens for his
+sake?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>308]</a></span>
+But at each step Otto&rsquo;s courage and zeal
+failed. He tried to hold out with a good
+heart. For very shame he did not wish to do
+less than his master. How could he turn back,
+while the king held on his way? But when
+they came forth on the white, bleak moor, he
+cried out with a faint heart:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My liege, I cannot go on. The wind
+freezes my very blood. Pray you, let us
+return.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Seems it so much?&rdquo; asked the king. &ldquo;Follow
+me on still. Only tread in my footsteps
+and you will proceed more easily.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The servant knew that his master spoke not
+at random. He carefully looked for the footsteps
+of the king. He set his own feet in the
+print of his master&rsquo;s.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;In the master&rsquo;s steps he trod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Where the snow lay dinted;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heat was in the very sod<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Which the saint had printed.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And so great was the fire of love that kindled
+in the heart of the king that, as the servant
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>309]</a></span>
+trod in his steps, he gained life and heat.
+Otto felt not the wind; he heeded not the
+frost; for the master&rsquo;s footprints glowed as
+with holy fire and zealously he followed the
+king on his errand of mercy.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>310]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk5chap06" id="bk5chap06"></a>MIDWINTER</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The speckled sky is dim with snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The light flakes falter and fall slow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Athwart the hill-top, rapt and pale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Silently drops a silvery veil;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the valley is shut in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By flickering curtains grey and thin.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But cheerily the chickadee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Singeth to me on fence and tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The snow sails round him as he sings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White as the down of angels&rsquo; wings.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I watch the snowflakes as they fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On bank and briar and broken wall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the orchard, waste and brown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All noiselessly they settle down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tipping the apple-boughs, and each<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light quivering twig of plum and peach.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>311]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">On turf and curb and bower-roof<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The snowstorm spreads its ivory woof;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It paves with pearl the garden walk;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lovingly round tattered stalk<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shivering stem, its magic weaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A mantle fair as lily-leaves.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The hooded beehive small and low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stands like a maiden in the snow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the old door-slab is half hid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under an alabaster lid.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All day it snows; the sheeted post<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gleams in the dimness like a ghost;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All day the blasted oak has stood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A muffled wizard of the wood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Garland and airy cap adorn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sumach and the wayside thorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And clustering spangles lodge and shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the dark tresses of the pine.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The ragged bramble dwarfed and old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shrinks like a beggar in the cold;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In surplice white the cedar stands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And blesses him with priestly hands.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>312]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Still cheerily the chickadee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Singeth to me on fence and tree:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in my inmost ear is heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The music of a holier bird;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heavenly thoughts as soft and white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As snowflakes on my soul alight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Clothing with love my lonely heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Healing with peace each bruis&eacute;d part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till all my being seems to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Transfigured by their purity.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">John Townsend Trowbridge.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313"><!-- no visible page number --></a></span></p>
+
+<h2 class="padtop"><a name="book6" id="book6"></a>WHEN WINTER AND SPRING MET</h2>
+
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>314]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3 class="padtop"><a name="bk6chap01" id="bk6chap01"></a>OLD WINTER</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Old Winter sad, in snow yclad<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is making a doleful din;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But let him howl till he crack his jowl,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">We will not let him in.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ay, let him lift from the billowy drift<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">His hoary, haggard form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scowling stand, with his wrinkled hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Outstretching to the storm.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And let his weird and sleety beard<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Stream loose upon the blast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, rustling, chime to the tinkling rime<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From his bald head falling fast.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let his baleful breath shed blight and death<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On herb and flower and tree;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And brooks and ponds in crystal bonds<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Bind fast, but what care we?<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Thomas Noel.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>315]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk6chap02" id="bk6chap02"></a>THE SNOWBALL THAT DIDN&rsquo;T MELT</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Jay T. Stocking</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem itals">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Biff!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flick!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swat!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smack!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Biff, biff!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flick, flick!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swat, swat!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smack, smack!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was a fine day in midwinter. The sun was
+just warm and bright enough to make the
+snow pack easily. The boys in the neighbourhood
+were having the liveliest kind of a snowball
+fight. So that is why there was this&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem itals">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Biff!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flick!<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>316]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Swat!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smack!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And this&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem itals">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Biff, biff!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flick, flick!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swat, swat!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smack, smack!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Everything ends some time. So this snowball
+fight did. One side or the other won,&mdash;I
+have forgotten which. The boys at the little
+brown-shingled house, where the fight took
+place, became very busy making balls for the
+next day&rsquo;s battle. You could hear the &ldquo;pat&mdash;pat,
+pat&mdash;pat,&rdquo; as they rounded and packed
+the snowballs in their cold, red hands.</p>
+
+<p>When they became quite satisfied that they
+had enough on hand for a lively battle they
+piled the balls up in a neat pyramid just under
+the edge of the veranda and went off to look
+for something new to do.</p>
+
+<p>Then the snowballs fell to talking,&mdash;<em>if it is
+true</em> that snowballs talk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder what they are going to do with
+us,&rdquo; said the top one. &ldquo;I know what I&rsquo;d <em>like</em>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>317]</a></span>
+to do. I&rsquo;d like to hit the nose of that rough,
+freckle-faced boy who hit the nose of the boy
+who made me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know what I&rsquo;d like,&rdquo; said the second.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d like to go right through the window of
+Old Grampy&rsquo;s house. Wouldn&rsquo;t he sputter!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! What&rsquo;s the fun in teasing a poor old
+man?&rdquo; said another. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you what <em>I&rsquo;d</em>
+like. <em>I&rsquo;d</em> like to hit the minister right in the
+middle of the back and see what he would
+do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hit the minister in the back!&rdquo; said a lively-looking
+chap down in the middle of the pile.
+&ldquo;Be a sport! I&rsquo;d like to knock the policeman&rsquo;s
+hat off and see him chase the boy that
+threw me. That would be fun.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was, you see, a very bold and mischievous
+lot of balls, if one may judge from their big
+talk. And so it was probably well for the
+peace of the neighbourhood that the evening
+had scarcely fallen when, through a sudden
+change in the weather, snow, too, began to
+fall. All night long the snow fell, thicker and
+faster, thicker and faster. The wind rose and
+piled it in stacks. The house was banked to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>318]</a></span>
+the windows, the veranda was heaped up high.
+The snowballs were buried deep,&mdash;so deep
+that the boys forgot them. It was spring before
+the thick covering of snow was melted
+enough so that they could see the light of day.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long time after this, when there
+came a day which meant much for at least
+one of that heap of snowballs.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was bright and hot; the grass was
+beginning to show green. The snow had all
+gone except in a few places on the cold side of
+the houses and under veranda edges. The
+snowballs were still piled neatly in the pyramid
+but they looked as if they might tumble
+down almost any minute. Although it was
+cool in their shady spot, every one of them was
+perspiring and several of them looked thin
+and pale. I fancy they had felt the heat, for
+all their lives they had been accustomed to a
+cooler climate.</p>
+
+<p>As they were busy mopping their brows
+and sighing for cooler weather they heard a
+sound, between a sigh and a faint moan. They
+heard it again and again. It was above their
+heads, out on the lawn, and not far away. It
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>319]</a></span>
+seemed to be in or around a shrub or bush,
+with a tall slender stem and a branching top.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; asked several of the balls at
+once.</p>
+
+<p>They stopped talking, and sighing, and
+listened. And as they did so, they could hear
+words very distinctly, though they were not
+nearly so loud as a whisper.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem itals">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Snowball, Snowball, come up here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My head is hot, my throat feels queer:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;m going to faint, I surely fear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Won&rsquo;t some cool snowball come up here?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; asked Snowball Number
+One, who sat at the tiptop of the pile. &ldquo;Where
+are you and what is your name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem itals">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I&rsquo;m Life-of-the-Bush,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the bush I dwell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know not my name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And so I can&rsquo;t tell.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t see you,&rdquo; said Number One, as he
+looked intently up at the branches.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem itals">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>320]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t?&rdquo; said the Bush,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Then you must be blind.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;m right up here,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But never mind.&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The voice trailed off weakly; then they
+heard it again:</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem itals">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to faint, I really fear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Won&rsquo;t some kind snowball come up here?&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you are up so high. How can one get
+there? We have neither a ladder nor wings
+and we do not know how to climb.&rdquo; Number
+One did most of the talking; he was nearest
+the bush.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you how,&rdquo; said Life-of-the-Bush,
+stopping his rhyme and talking plainly and
+simply and sensibly. &ldquo;Just roll down the
+slope on the lawn to the foot of this bush.
+Make yourself as small as small can be, creep
+down into the ground, and take an elevator,
+which is always running, and you will come
+directly up to me.&rdquo; The talking ceased, and
+the snowballs began to look at each other
+rather uneasily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>321]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t go,&rdquo; said Number Two, who was
+in the second row from the top. &ldquo;I always
+tan terribly in the sun. It&rsquo;s a long way down
+to the foot of the bush, and I should be brown
+as a berry before I got half way.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t go, either,&rdquo; said Number Three,
+by his side. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t tan, but I freckle, and
+freckles look dreadful on my fair complexion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry I can&rsquo;t go,&rdquo; said Number Four,
+from his place in the corner of the third row.
+&ldquo;But I feel the heat terribly. My clothes are
+all sticking to me now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s simply out of the question for me,&rdquo;
+said a big fat snowball down near the ground.
+&ldquo;I know I&rsquo;d melt before I got there. There
+isn&rsquo;t much left of me now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Number One was one of the fairest snowballs
+of the bunch, but he was not afraid of
+freckles or tan. He was also one of the smallest
+of the lot. He looked down to the foot of
+the bush. It seemed a long way. The sun
+was certainly burning hot. He was not at all
+sure that he would live long enough in that
+sun to reach the bush. But some one should
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>322]</a></span>
+keep Life-of-the-Bush from fainting and he
+would try.</p>
+
+<p>He turned a quick somersault off the pile
+down to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>At just that moment something disturbed
+the whole pile and every ball in it tumbled
+down and out into the sun.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Number One touched the
+ground, he began to roll over, and over, and
+over, as fast as ever he could. It didn&rsquo;t take
+him more than a minute to reach the foot of
+the bush. He remembered what Life-of-the-Bush
+had said, made himself just as small as
+small could be, crept down into the ground
+close to the stem and took the elevator, which
+seemed to be running all the time.</p>
+
+<p>It took quite a while to go up, but finally
+the elevator paused just long enough for him
+to get out. He found himself in a cool, rambling
+house, that seemed to be almost all long,
+narrow halls. They ran this way and that
+way and every&mdash;which&mdash;way. At one end of
+each hall, where the buds were opening, there
+were windows with green shades. Everything
+was very clean and sweet. Right in the middle
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>323]</a></span>
+of the house he found Life-of-the-Bush.
+He gave her a drink of water, which he had
+carried in his water-proof pocket and not only
+kept her from fainting but made her as lively
+and well and happy as ever.</p>
+
+<p>Life-of-the-Bush thanked the snowball a
+thousand times and gave him the freedom of
+her beautiful house.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now that you are here,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;perhaps
+you will stay a while and help me build
+my house a little bigger. I must build leaves,
+and buds and branches and bark. I need your
+help.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The snowball stayed and helped. He
+found it very exciting work. He worked all
+day and all night, ran here and there, and
+never stopped for meals. He packed buds
+and unfolded them; he pushed out the leaves
+and built out the ends of branches; he made
+bark, pressed it till it was hard and coloured
+it grey.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day he worked at his tasks as if
+they gave him the greatest joy in the world.
+But now and then Life-of-the-Bush saw him
+gazing out of the window, as if he were a bit
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>324]</a></span>
+homesick, to get out of doors again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stay with me a little longer,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;to
+help me build my blossoms, and then I will
+send you out of doors on a beautiful errand
+to stay as long as your heart desires.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Snowball stayed and helped Life-of-the-Bush
+build her blossoms. Basket after basket
+of white stuff, as white as snowflakes but ever
+so much smaller, he carried out to the ends of
+the branches. Jar after jar of perfume he
+carried, too, until the blossoms were quite
+complete.</p>
+
+<p>Then one evening&mdash;it was the last of
+May, or early June&mdash;Life-of-the-Bush called
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To-morrow,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;there is to be a
+great Garden Festival. A prize is to be given
+for the most original and beautiful blossom.
+All the flowers of the season will be here in
+the garden. You have been a good friend and
+a faithful helper. For reward, you may go to
+the Festival and stay as long as your heart
+desires.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But how shall I go?&rdquo; queried the snowball.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>325]</a></span>
+&ldquo;Right out through the end of one of my
+branches,&rdquo; said Life-of-the-Bush.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I shall fall off,&rdquo; said the snowball.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tie you on with a stout string, so that
+not even the wind can blow you off.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it&rsquo;s hot outside. I shall melt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O, no. I&rsquo;ve changed you so the hottest
+sun cannot melt you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But how can I get out through the end
+of the branch?&rdquo; asked the snowball, who could
+not get it through his head that he could
+really get out to the end of a branch and stay
+there all day and not fall off or melt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Make yourself very small, just as small as
+when you came up to me and you can go out
+as easily as you run along these halls,&rdquo; said
+Life-of-the-Bush.</p>
+
+<p>The snowball became quite excited. The
+Festival was to begin very early in the morning.
+Besides he wanted to see, if he could,
+what had become of the other snowballs. So
+he decided that he would go out on the branch
+that night, while it was dark, and be there
+for the whole day&rsquo;s fun.</p>
+
+<p>So he made himself very small, ran along
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>326]</a></span>
+the hall, crept out through a tiny green door
+and found himself tied securely to a swaying
+branch. The air was cool and sweet. He
+didn&rsquo;t melt, as he half-feared he might, and
+he didn&rsquo;t fall off. He looked around. Yes,
+this was the very bush he had seen before,
+but it was greener now. Morning came and
+the great Festival. The garden was full of
+flowers and folks.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem itals">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There were lilacs and lilies of shades manifold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There were daisies, and daffodils, yellow as gold.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There were pansies, and peonies, red, white and pink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every such flower of which you can think.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You ought to have heard the &ldquo;Ah&rsquo;s!&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Oh&rsquo;s!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the fine people in all their fine clothes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You ought to have seen that wonderful sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For no rhyme of mine can describe it half right.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>People went from bush to bush and from
+flower to flower. They could not for the life
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>327]</a></span>
+of them tell which blossom they thought
+most beautiful and original.</p>
+
+<p>The judges wandered about uncertainly
+with the ribbons in their pockets not knowing
+to what plant or bush to tie them.</p>
+
+<p>The snowball grew very much interested,
+not to say excited, to see what blossom would
+finally win the prize.</p>
+
+<p>He noticed that groups of people continually
+stopped before the bush on which he
+hung. Apparently they admired it. He soon
+discovered that they were looking at him and
+was quite embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look!&rdquo; he kept hearing them say. &ldquo;See
+this snowball,&mdash;and it doesn&rsquo;t melt! Why,
+it&rsquo;s growing on the bush; it&rsquo;s a blossom!&rdquo;
+That was the first that <em>he</em> knew that Life-of-the-Bush
+had changed him from a snowball
+into a flower snowball. Of course he became
+very happy and twice as excited.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, he could hardly breathe from
+excitement, when the judges came over, in a
+group, to where he grew. They looked at
+him and at the bush. Apparently they had
+never seen blossoms of this kind before.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>328]</a></span>
+&ldquo;I never saw such a big, round, white
+blossom before,&rdquo; he heard one of them say,
+as he drew a blue ribbon from his pocket and
+tied it to the stem on which he hung. He
+knew and soon, of course, everybody knew
+that the &ldquo;Snowball Bush&rdquo; had won the prize.
+His heart beat so fast that he thought he was
+growing red in the face. <em>Perhaps he was
+melting!</em> But he wasn&rsquo;t, for he heard a girl
+say just then, as she passed, &ldquo;How white and
+cool it looks!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Snowball Number One had often wondered
+what had happened to his friends, the
+other snowballs. One reason why he had been
+anxious to get out of the bush was to find out,
+if he could, what had become of them all.
+But the doings of the day had driven all
+thought of them out of his busy head.</p>
+
+<p>Now, as the people began to leave the garden,
+and excitement grew less, he remembered
+and looked about him. Here was the yard in
+which the boys made him. There was the
+very place under the edge of the veranda
+where he had spent the winter and where they
+had all stood that spring morning when
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>329]</a></span>
+Life-of-the-Bush called to them. There was the
+place, almost under him, where he knew they
+had all tumbled down the moment he left
+them. But not a trace of a snowball could be
+seen.</p>
+
+<p>Of course not! They had all disappeared
+long ago, the very day, indeed, in which they
+tumbled down. Before noon the hot sun had
+melted them, every one, and carried them
+away, tan and freckles and all, and no one
+ever heard of them again.</p>
+
+<p>Number One, who ran right out into the
+sun, was the only snowball that didn&rsquo;t melt.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>330]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk6chap03" id="bk6chap03"></a>GAU-WI-DI-NE AND GO-HAY, WINTER AND SPRING</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Iroquois Legend)</p>
+
+
+<p>The snow mountain lifted its head close to
+the sky; the clouds wrapped around it their
+floating drifts which held the winter&rsquo;s hail
+and snowfalls, and with scorn it defied the
+sunlight which crept over its height, slow
+and shivering on its way to the valleys.</p>
+
+<p>Close at the foot of the mountain, an old
+man had built him a lodge &ldquo;for a time,&rdquo; said
+he, as he packed it around with great blocks
+of ice. Within he stored piles of wood and
+corn and dried meat and fish. No person,
+animal, nor bird could enter this lodge, only
+North Wind, the only friend the old man had.
+Whenever strong and lusty North Wind
+passed the lodge he would scream &ldquo;ugh-e-e-e,
+ugh-e-e-e,&rdquo; as with a blast of his blusterings
+he passed over the earth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>331]</a></span>
+But North Wind came only seldom to the
+lodge. He was too busy searching the corners
+of the earth and driving the snow and
+the hail, but when he had wandered far and
+was in need of advice, he would visit the
+lodge to smoke and counsel with the old man
+about the next snowfall, before journeying to
+his home in the north sky; and they would sit
+by the fire which blazed and glowed yet could
+not warm them.</p>
+
+<p>The old man&rsquo;s bushy whiskers were heavy
+with the icicles which clung to them, and
+when the blazing fire flared its lights, illuminating
+them with the warm hues of the summer
+sunset, he would rave as he struck them
+down, and glare with rage as they fell snapping
+and crackling at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>One night, as together they sat smoking and
+dozing before the fire, a strange feeling of fear
+came over them, the air seemed growing
+warmer and the ice began to melt. Said
+North Wind:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder what warm thing is coming, the
+snow seems vanishing and sinking lower in
+the earth.&rdquo; But the old man cared not, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>332]</a></span>
+was silent. He knew his lodge was strong,
+and he chuckled with scorn as he bade North
+Wind abandon his fears and depart for his
+home. But North Wind went drifting the
+fast-falling snow higher on the mountain
+until it groaned under its heavy burden, and
+scolding and blasting, his voice gradually
+died away. Still the old man remained silent
+and moved not, but, lost in thought, sat looking
+into the fire, when there came a loud
+knock at his door. &ldquo;Some foolish breath of
+North Wind is wandering,&rdquo; thought he, and
+he heeded it not.</p>
+
+<p>Again came the rapping, but swifter and
+louder, and a pleading voice begged to come
+in.</p>
+
+<p>Still the old man remained silent, and,
+drawing nearer to the fire, quieted himself for
+sleep; but the rapping continued, louder,
+fiercer, and increased his anger. &ldquo;Who dares
+approach the door of my lodge?&rdquo; he shrieked.
+&ldquo;You are not North Wind, who alone can
+enter here. Begone! no refuge here for
+trifling winds; go back to your home in the
+sky.&rdquo; But, as he spoke, the strong bar securing
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>333]</a></span>
+the door fell from its fastening, the door
+swung open and a stalwart young warrior
+stood before him shaking the snow from his
+shoulders as he noiselessly closed the door.</p>
+
+<p>Safe within the lodge, the warrior heeded
+not the old man&rsquo;s anger, but with a cheerful
+greeting drew close to the fire, extending his
+hands to its ruddy blaze, when a glow as of
+summer illumined the lodge. But the kindly
+greeting and the glowing light served only to
+incense the old man, and rising in rage, he
+ordered the warrior to depart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;I know you not.
+You have entered my lodge and you bring a
+strange light. Why have you forced my lodge
+door? You are young, and youth has no need
+of my fire. When I enter my lodge, all the
+earth sleeps. You are strong, with the glow
+of sunshine on your face. Long ago I buried
+the sunshine beneath the snowdrifts. Go! you
+have no place here.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your eyes bear the gleam of the summer
+stars. North Wind blew out the summer star-lights
+moons ago. Your eyes dazzle my lodge,
+your breath does not smoke in chill vapour, but
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>334]</a></span>
+comes from your lips soft and warm; it will
+melt my lodge. You have no place here.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your hair so soft and fine, streaming back
+like the night shades, will weave my lodge
+into tangles. You have no place here.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your shoulders are bare and white as the
+snowdrifts. You have no furs to cover them;
+depart from my lodge. See, as you sit by my
+fire, how it draws away from you. Depart,
+I say, from my lodge!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the young warrior only smiled, and
+asked that he might remain to fill his pipe;
+and they sat down by the fire. Then the old
+man became garrulous and began to boast of
+his great powers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am powerful and strong,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;I
+send North Wind to blow all over the earth
+and its waters stop to listen to his voice as he
+freezes them fast asleep. When I touch the
+sky the snow hurries down and the hunters
+hide by their lodge fires; the birds fly scared,
+and the animals creep to their caves. When
+I lay my hand on the land, I harden it still as
+the rocks; nothing can forbid me nor loosen
+my fetters. You, young warrior, though you
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>335]</a></span>
+shine like the Sun, you have no power. Go!
+I give you a chance to escape me, but I could
+blow my breath and fold around you a mist
+which would turn you to ice forever!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am not a friend to the Sun, who grows
+pale and cold and flees to the Southland when
+I come; yet I see his glance in your face,
+where no winter shadows hide. My North
+Wind will soon return; he hates the summer
+and will bind fast its hands. You fear me not,
+and smile because you know me not. Young
+man, listen. I am Gau-wi-di-ne, Winter!
+Now fear me and depart. Pass from my
+lodge and go out to the wind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the young warrior moved not; he only
+smiled as he refilled the pipe for the trembling
+old man, saying, &ldquo;Here, take your pipe;
+it will soothe you and make you stronger for
+a little while longer;&rdquo; and he packed the
+o-yan-kwa<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> deep and hard in the pipe.</p>
+
+<div class="footnote">
+<p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a>
+Indian tobacco.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Said the warrior, &ldquo;Now you must smoke for
+me, smoke for Youth and Spring! I fear not
+your boasting; you are aged and slow while I
+am young and strong. I hear the voice of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>336]</a></span>
+South Wind. Your North Wind hears, and
+Spirit of the Winds is hurrying him back to
+his home. Wrap you up warm while yet the
+snowdrifts cover the earth path, and flee to
+your lodge in the north sky. I am here now,
+and you shall know me. I, too, am powerful!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I lift my hand, the sky opens wide
+and I waken the sleeping Sun, which follows
+me warm and glad. I touch the earth and it
+grows soft and gentle, and breathes strong and
+swift as my South Wind ploughs under the
+snows to loosen your grasp. The trees in the
+forest welcome my voice and send out their
+buds to my hand. When my breezes blow my
+long hair to the clouds, they send down gentle
+showers that whisper to the grasses to grow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I came not to tarry long in my peace talk
+with you, but to smoke with you and warn
+you that the sun is waiting for me to open its
+door. You and the North Wind have built
+your lodge strong, but each wind, the North
+and the East, and the West, and the South, has
+its time for the earth. Now South Wind is
+calling me; return you to your big lodge in
+the sky. Travel quick on your way that you
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>337]</a></span>
+may not fall in the path of the Sun. See! It
+is now sending down its arrows broad and
+strong!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old man saw and trembled. He seemed
+fading smaller, and grown too weak to speak,
+could only whisper, &ldquo;Young warrior, who are
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In a voice that breathed soft as the breath
+of wild blossoms, he answered: &ldquo;I am Go-hay,
+Spring! I have come to rule, and my
+lodge now covers the earth! I have talked
+to your mountain and it has heard; I have
+called the South Wind and it is near; the Sun
+is awake from its winter sleep and summons
+me quick and loud. Your North Wind has
+fled to his north sky; you are late in following.
+You have lingered too long over your
+peace pipe and its smoke now floats far away.
+Haste while yet there is time that you may
+lose not your trail.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And Go-hay began singing the Sun song as
+he opened the door of the lodge. Hovering
+above it was a great bird, whose wings seemed
+blown by a strong wind, and while Go-hay
+continued to sing, it flew down to the lodge
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>338]</a></span>
+and folding Gau-wi-di-ne to its breast, slowly
+winged away to the north, and when the Sun
+lifted its head in the east it beheld the bird
+disappearing behind the far-away sky. The
+Sun glanced down where Gau-wi-di-ne had
+built his lodge, whose fire had burned but
+could not warm, and a bed of young blossoms
+lifted their heads to the touch of its beams.</p>
+
+<p>Where the wood and the corn and the dried
+meat and fish had been heaped, a young tree
+was leafing, and a blue bird was trying its
+wings for a nest. And the great ice mountain
+had melted to a swift running river which
+sped through the valley bearing its message of
+the springtime.</p>
+
+<p>Gau-wi-di-ne had passed his time, and Go-hay
+reigned over the earth!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>339]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk6chap04" id="bk6chap04"></a>NAMING THE WINDS</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">(Indian Legend)</p>
+
+
+<p>Ga-oh the great master of the winds decided
+to choose his helpers from the animals of the
+earth. He blew a strong blast that shook the
+rocks and hills and when his reverberating
+call had ceased its thunderous echoes he
+opened the north gate wide across the sky and
+called Ya-o-gah, the Bear.</p>
+
+<p>Lumbering over the mountains as he pushed
+them from his path, Ya-o-gah, the bulky bear,
+who had battled the boisterous winds as he
+came, took his place at Ga-oh&rsquo;s gate and
+waited the mission of his call. Said Ga-oh,
+&ldquo;Ya-o-gah, you are strong; you can freeze the
+waters with your cold breath; in your broad
+arms you can carry the wild tempests, and
+clasp the whole earth when I bid you destroy.
+I will place you in my far North, there to
+watch the herd of my winter winds when I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>340]</a></span>
+loose them in the sky. You shall be North
+Wind. Enter your home.&rdquo; And the bear
+lowered his head for the leash with which
+Ga-oh bound him, and submissively took his
+place in the north sky.</p>
+
+<p>In a gentler voice Ga-oh called Ne-o-ga,
+the Fawn, and a soft breeze as of the summer
+crept over the sky; the air grew fragrant with
+the odour of flowers, and there were voices as
+of babbling brooks telling the secrets of the
+summer to the tune of birds, as Ne-o-ga came
+proudly lifting her head.</p>
+
+<p>Said Ga-oh, &ldquo;You walk with the summer
+sun, and know all its paths; you are gentle,
+and kind as the sunbeam, and will rule my
+flock of the summer winds in peace. You
+shall be the South Wind. Bend your head
+while I leash you to the sky, for you are swift,
+and might return from me to the earth.&rdquo; And
+the gentle Fawn followed Ga-oh to his great
+gate which opens the south sky.</p>
+
+<p>Again Ga-oh trumpeted a shrill blast, and
+all the sky seemed threatening; an ugly darkness
+crept into the clouds that sent them whirling
+in circles of confusion. A quarrelsome,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>341]</a></span>
+shrieking voice snarled through the air, and
+with a sound as of great claws tearing the
+heavens into rifts, Da-jo-ji, the Panther,
+sprang to the gate.</p>
+
+<p>Said Ga-oh, &ldquo;You are ugly, and fierce, and
+can fight the strong storms; you can climb the
+high mountains, and tear down the forests;
+you can carry the whirlwind on your strong
+back, and toss the great sea waves high in the
+air, and snarl at the tempests if they stray
+from my gate. You shall be the West Wind.
+Go to the west sky, where even the Sun will
+hurry to hide when you howl your warning to
+the night.&rdquo; And Da-jo-ji, dragging his leash
+as he stealthily crept along, followed Ga-oh to
+the furthermost west sky.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Ga-oh rested not. The earth was flat,
+and in each of its four corners he must have
+an assistant. One corner yet remained, and
+again Ga-oh&rsquo;s strong blast shook the earth.
+And there arose a moan like the calling of a
+lost mate; the sky shivered in a cold rain; the
+whole earth clouded in mist; a crackling
+sound as of great horns crashing through the
+forest trees dinned the air, and O-yan-do-ne,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>342]</a></span>
+the Moose, stood stamping his hoofs at the
+gate.</p>
+
+<p>Said Ga-oh, as he strung a strong leash
+around his neck, &ldquo;Your breath blows the
+mist, and can lead the cold rains; your horns
+spread wide, and can push back the forests to
+widen the path for my storms as with your
+swift hoofs you race with my winds. You
+shall be the East Wind, and blow your breath
+to chill the young clouds as they float through
+the sky.&rdquo; Said Ga-oh as he led him to the east
+sky, &ldquo;Here you shall dwell forevermore.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thus, with his assistants, does Ga-oh control
+his storms. And although he must ever
+remain in his sky lodge, his will is supreme,
+and his faithful assistants will obey!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>343]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk6chap05" id="bk6chap05"></a>NORTH WIND&rsquo;S FROLIC</h3>
+
+
+<p>In a large, airy castle on the borders of a
+country far away, lived the King of the Winds
+with his four children, North Wind, South
+Wind, East Wind, and West Wind. They
+were a happy family, for the four children
+were always making merry with the old Wind
+King.</p>
+
+<p>North Wind, however, was a boisterous
+fellow, forever causing disorder even in their
+play.</p>
+
+<p>One summer day North Wind said that he
+was going out of the castle for a frolic.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go,&rdquo; called out the King, &ldquo;but be careful,
+North Wind, what you do. Your pranks are
+all very well while you are in the castle here,
+but out in the world they may do great harm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Woo&mdash;oo&mdash;oo&mdash;&mdash;,&rdquo; was all the King heard
+in answer, and away blustered North Wind
+out of the castle to the garden near by.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>344]</a></span>
+The roses and lilies were just in bloom, and
+the ripe peaches hung on the trees ready to be
+picked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Woo&mdash;oo&mdash;oo&mdash;&mdash;,&rdquo; cried the North Wind
+in his loudest voice, and in a moment the rose
+petals were scattered all over the ground, the
+lilies were broken from their stems, and the
+ripe peaches dropped down right into the
+mud.</p>
+
+<p>In the fields he caused even greater damage.
+He broke the wheat stems, threw the
+unripe apples about. He tore the leaves from
+their branches and tossed them about in the
+air in all directions. Indeed, one old tree he
+completely uprooted.</p>
+
+<p>The people could stand it no longer. They
+went to the King of the Winds, who, in his
+castle had control over the coming and going
+of all the Winds, and told him what the
+wicked North Wind had done and how the
+garden and fields had suffered from the
+misery he had caused them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will summon North Wind,&rdquo; said his
+father. &ldquo;He shall answer for all this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When North Wind appeared, the King
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>345]</a></span>
+repeated what the people had said. &ldquo;Is this
+true, North Wind?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>North Wind could not deny it, for the
+devastated garden and fields lay before every
+one&rsquo;s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why did you do it?&rdquo; asked the King.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; answered North Wind, &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t
+mean it wickedly. I wanted to play with the
+roses and the lilies and the peaches&mdash;and all
+the rest. I didn&rsquo;t think I would do them any
+harm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said the King. &ldquo;If you are such a
+clumsy fellow, then I do not dare to let you
+out for a frolic again. I must keep you a
+prisoner in the castle the whole summer. In
+the winter, when there are no more flowers
+and fruit, you may go out and be as boisterous
+as you like. I see you are fit only for the
+time of ice and snow and not for flowers and
+fruit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>346]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk6chap06" id="bk6chap06"></a>THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Christina Rossetti</p>
+
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="List of characters">
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdc"><i>Boys</i></td>
+ <td class="tdc">&nbsp;</td>
+ <td class="tdc"><i>Girls</i></td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">January</td>
+ <td class="tdlp">&nbsp;</td>
+ <td class="tdl">February</td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">March</td>
+ <td class="tdlp">&nbsp;</td>
+ <td class="tdl">April</td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">July</td>
+ <td class="tdlp">&nbsp;</td>
+ <td class="tdl">May</td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">August</td>
+ <td class="tdlp">&nbsp;</td>
+ <td class="tdl">June</td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">October</td>
+ <td class="tdlp">&nbsp;</td>
+ <td class="tdl">September</td>
+ </tr>
+ <tr>
+ <td class="tdl">December</td>
+ <td class="tdlp">&nbsp;</td>
+ <td class="tdl">November</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p class="hang">Robin Redbreast; Lambs and Sheep; Nightingale
+and Nestlings; various Flowers,
+Fruits, etc.</p>
+
+<p class="hang">SCENE:&mdash;<i>A Cottage with its grounds.</i></p>
+
+<p class="hang">(<i>A room in a large comfortable cottage; a fire
+burning on the hearth; a table on which
+the breakfast things have been left standing.
+<span class="smcap">January</span> discovered seated by the
+fire.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>347]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center smcap">January</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cold the day and cold the drifted snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dim the day until the cold dark night.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Stirs the fire</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Crackle, sparkle, faggot; embers glow:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some one may be plodding through the snow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Longing for a light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the light that you and I can show.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If no one else should come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here Robin Redbreast&rsquo;s welcome to a crumb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And never troublesome:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Robin, why don&rsquo;t you come and fetch your crumb?<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here&rsquo;s butter for my hunch of bread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And sugar for your crumb;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here&rsquo;s room upon the hearthrug,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">If you&rsquo;ll only come.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In your scarlet waistcoat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With your keen bright eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where are you loitering?<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Wings were made to fly!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>348]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Make haste to breakfast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Come and fetch your crumb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I&rsquo;m as glad to see you<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">As you are glad to come.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Two Robin Redbreasts are seen tapping
+with their beaks at the lattice, which <span class="smcap">January</span>
+opens. The birds flutter in, hop about the
+floor, and peck up the crumbs and sugar
+thrown to them. They have scarcely finished
+their meal when a knock is heard at the door.
+<span class="smcap">January</span> hangs a guard in front of the fire,
+and opens to <span class="smcap">February</span>, who appears with a
+bunch of snowdrops in her hand.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good-morrow, sister.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">February</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7">Brother, joy to you!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ve brought some snowdrops; only just a few,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But quite enough to prove the world awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cheerful and hopeful in the frosty dew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And for the pale sun&rsquo;s sake.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>349]</a></span>
+(<i>She hands a few of her snowdrops to <span class="smcap">January</span>,
+who retires into the background.
+While <span class="smcap">February</span> stands arranging the remaining
+snowdrops in a glass of water on the
+window-sill, a soft butting and bleating are
+heard outside. She opens the door, and sees
+one foremost lamb with other sheep and lambs
+bleating and crowding towards her.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O you, you little wonder, come&mdash;come in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You wonderful, you woolly soft white lamb:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You panting mother ewe, come too,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lead that tottering twin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Safe in:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bring all your bleating kith and kin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Except the horny ram.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">February</span> opens a second door in the background,
+and the little flock files through into
+a warm and sheltered compartment out of
+sight.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The lambkin tottering in its walk<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With just a fleece to wear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The snowdrop drooping on its stalk<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So slender,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>350]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Snowdrop and lamb, a pretty pair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Braving the cold for our delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Both white<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Both tender.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>A rattling of doors and windows; branches
+seen without, tossing violently to and fro.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">How the doors rattle, and the branches sway!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here brother March comes whirling on his way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With winds that eddy and sing:&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>She turns the handle of the door, which
+bursts open, and discloses <span class="smcap">March</span> hastening
+up, both hands full of violets and anemones.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Come, show me what you bring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I have said my say, fulfilled my day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And must away.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">March</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Stopping short on the threshold</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">I blow an arouse<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Through the world&rsquo;s wide house<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To quicken the torpid earth;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>351]</a></span>
+<span class="i1">Grappling I fling<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each feeble thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But bring strong life to the birth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I wrestle and frown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And topple down;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I wrench, I rend, I uproot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Yet the violet<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is born where I set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sole of my flying foot.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Hands violet and anemones to <span class="smcap">February</span>,
+who retires into the background.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">And in my wake<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Frail wind-flowers quake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the catkins promise fruit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I drive ocean ashore<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">With rush and roar,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he cannot say me nay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">My harpstrings all<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Are the forests tall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making music when I play.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Before <span class="smcap">March</span> has done speaking, a voice
+is heard approaching accompanied by a twittering
+of birds. <span class="smcap">April</span> comes along singing,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>352]</a></span>
+and stands outside and out of sight to finish
+her song.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">April</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Outside</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pretty little three<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sparrows in a tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Light upon the wing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Though you cannot sing<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">You can chirp of Spring:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chirp of Spring to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sparrows, from your tree.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Never mind the showers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chirp about the flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">While you build a nest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Straws from east and west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Feathers from your breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make the snuggest bowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a world of flowers.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Appearing at the open door</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good-morrow and good-bye: if others fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all the flying months you&rsquo;re the most flying.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>353]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center smcap">March</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">You&rsquo;re hope and sweetness, April.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">April</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ve a rainbow in my showers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a lapful of flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And these dear nestlings aged three hours;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And here&rsquo;s their mother sitting;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Their father&rsquo;s merely flitting<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To find their breakfast somewhere in my bowers.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>As she speaks <span class="smcap">April</span> shows <span class="smcap">March</span> her
+apron full of flowers and nest full of birds.
+<span class="smcap">March</span> wanders away into the grounds.
+<span class="smcap">April</span>, without entering the cottage, hangs
+over the hungry nestlings watching them.
+<span class="smcap">May</span> arrives unperceived by <span class="smcap">April</span>, and gives
+her a kiss. <span class="smcap">April</span> starts and looks round.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, May, good-morrow, May, and so good-bye.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>354]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center smcap">May</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That&rsquo;s just your way, sweet April, smile and sigh:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your sorrow&rsquo;s half in fun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Begun and done<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And turned to joy while twenty seconds run.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ve gathered flowers all as I came along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At every step a flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fed by your last bright shower,&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>She divides an armful of all sorts of flowers
+with <span class="smcap">April</span>, who strolls away through the
+garden.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And gathering flowers I listened to the song<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of every bird in bower.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here are my buds of lily and rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And here&rsquo;s my namesake blossom may;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And from a watery spot<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">See here forget-me-not,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With all that blows<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">To-day.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>355]</a></span>
+(<i><span class="smcap">June</span> appears at the further end of the
+garden, coming slowly towards <span class="smcap">May</span>, who,
+seeing her, exclaims:</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Surely you&rsquo;re come too early, sister June.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">June</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Indeed I feel as if I came too soon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To round your young May moon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And set the world a-gasping at my noon.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet come I must. So here are strawberries<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sun-flushed and sweet, as many as you please;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here are full-blown roses by the score,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More roses, and yet more.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">May</span>, eating strawberries, withdraws
+among the flower beds. <span class="smcap">June</span> seats herself
+in the shadow of a laburnum.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or if I&rsquo;m lulled by note of bird and bee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or lulled by noontide&rsquo;s silence deep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I need but nestle down beneath my tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And drop asleep.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>356]</a></span>
+(<i><span class="smcap">June</span> falls asleep; and is not awakened by
+the voice of <span class="smcap">July</span>, who, behind the scenes, is
+heard, half singing, half calling.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">July</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Behind the scenes</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which will you take? yellow, blue, speckled!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each in its way has not a fellow.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">July</span>, a basket of many-coloured
+irises slung upon his shoulders, a bunch of
+ripe grass in one hand, and a plate piled full
+of peaches balanced upon the other. He
+steals up to <span class="smcap">June</span>, and tickles her with the
+grass. She wakes.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">June</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What, here already?<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>357]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center smcap">July</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Nay, my tryst is kept;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The longest day slipped by you while you slept.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ve brought you one curved pyramid of bloom,<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Hands her the plate</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not flowers but peaches, gathered where the bees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As downy, bask and boom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In sunshine and in gloom of trees.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But get you in, a storm is at my heels;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The whirlwind whistles and wheels,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lightning flashes and thunder peals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flying and following hard upon my heels.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">June</span> takes shelter in a thickly-woven arbour</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The roar of a storm sweeps up<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">From the east to the lurid west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The darkening sky, like a cup,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Is filled with rain to the brink;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sky is purple and fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blackness and noise and unrest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The earth, parched with desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Opens her mouth to drink.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>358]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Have done with thunder and fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">O sky with the rainbow crest;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O earth, have done with desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Drink, and drink deep, and rest.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">August</span>, carrying a sheaf made up
+of different kinds of grain.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hail, brother August, flushed and warm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scathless from my storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your hands are full of corn, I see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As full as hands can be:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And earth and air both smell as sweet as balm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In their recovered calm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And that they owe to me.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">July</span> retires into a shrubbery</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">August</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Wheat sways heavy, oats are airy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Barley bows a graceful head,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Short and small shoots up canary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Each of these is some one&rsquo;s bread;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>359]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Bread for man or bread for beast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or, at very least,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A bird&rsquo;s savoury feast.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">August</span> descries <span class="smcap">September</span> toiling across
+the lawn</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My harvest home is ended; and I spy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">September drawing nigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the first thought of Autumn in her eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the first sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Autumn wind among her locks that fly.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">September</span> arrives, carrying upon her head
+a basket heaped high with fruit</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">September</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Unload me, brother. I have brought a few<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plums and these pears for you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A dozen kinds of apples, one or two<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Melons, some figs all bursting through<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their skins, and pearled with dew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">These damsons violet-blue.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>360]</a></span>
+(<i>While <span class="smcap">September</span> is speaking, <span class="smcap">August</span>
+lifts the basket to the ground, selects various
+fruits, and withdraws slowly along the gravel
+walk, eating a pear as he goes.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">My song is half a sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Because my green leaves die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet are my fruits, but all my leaves are dying;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And well may Autumn sigh,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And well may I<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who watch the sere leaves flying.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">October</span> enters briskly, some leafy twigs
+bearing different sorts of nuts in one hand,
+and a long ripe hop-bine trailing after him
+from the other. A dahlia is stuck in his buttonhole.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">October</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nay, cheer up, sister. Life is not quite over,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even if the year has done with corn and clover,<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>361]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">With flowers and leaves; besides, in fact, it&rsquo;s true<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some leaves remain and some flowers too.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For me and you.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now see my crops:<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Offering his produce to <span class="smcap">September</span></i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I&rsquo;ve brought you nuts and hops;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And when the leaf drops, why, the walnut drops.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">October</span> wreathes the hop-bine about
+<span class="smcap">September&rsquo;s</span> neck, and gives her the nut
+twigs. They enter the cottage together, but
+without shutting the door. She steps into the
+background; he advances to the hearth, removes
+the guard, stirs up the smouldering fire,
+and arranges several chestnuts ready to roast.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Crack your first nut and light your first fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Roast your first chestnut crisp on the bar;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make the logs sparkle, stir the blaze higher,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Logs are cheery as sun or as star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Logs we can find wherever we are.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>362]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Spring one soft day will open the leaves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Spring one bright day will lure back the flowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Never fancy my whistling wind grieves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Never fancy I&rsquo;ve tears in my showers:<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Dance, nights and days! and dance on, my hours!<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Sees <span class="smcap">November</span> approaching</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Here comes my youngest sister, looking dim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And grim<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With dismal ways.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What cheer, November?<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">November</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Entering and shutting the door</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nought have I to bring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tramping a-chill and shivering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Except these pine cones for a blaze,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Except a fog which follows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And stuffs up all the hollows,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Except a hoar frost here and there,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>363]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Except some shooting stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which dart their luminous cars<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trackless and noiseless through the keen night air.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i><span class="smcap">October</span>, shrugging his shoulders, withdraws
+into the background, while <span class="smcap">November</span>
+throws her pine cones on the fire, and sits
+down listlessly.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The earth lies asleep, grown tired<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of all that&rsquo;s high or deep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There&rsquo;s nought desired and nought required<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Save a sleep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I rock the cradle of the earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">I lull her with a sigh;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And know that she will wake to mirth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By and by.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Through the window <span class="smcap">December</span> is seen
+running and leaping in the direction of the
+door. He knocks.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah, here&rsquo;s my youngest brother come at last:<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>Calls out without rising.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>364]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Come in, December.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>He opens the door and enters, loaded with
+evergreens in berry, etc.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Come, and shut the door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For now it&rsquo;s snowing fast;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It snows, and will snow more and more;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Don&rsquo;t let it drift in on the floor.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But you, you&rsquo;re all aglow; how can you be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rosy and warm and smiling in the cold?<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center smcap">December</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nay, no closed doors for me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But open doors and open hearts and glee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To welcome young and old.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Dimmest and brightest month am I;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My short days end, my lengthening days begin;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What matters more or less sun in the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When all is sun within?<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>He begins making a wreath as he sings</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>365]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Ivy and privet dark as night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I weave with hips and haws a cheerful show,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And holly for a beauty and delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And milky mistletoe.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">While high above them all I set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yew twigs and Christmas roses pure and pale;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then Spring her snowdrop and her violet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">May keep, so sweet and frail;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">May keep each merry singing bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all her happy birds that singing build:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I&rsquo;ve a carol which some shepherds heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Once in a wintry field.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>(<i>While <span class="smcap">December</span> concludes his song all
+the other Months troop in from the garden,
+or advance out of the background. The
+Twelve join hands in a circle, and begin dancing
+round to a stately measure as the curtain
+falls.</i>) (<i>Abridged.</i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>366]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk6chap07" id="bk6chap07"></a>PRINCE WINTER</h3>
+
+<p class="center smcap">Carl Ewald</p>
+
+
+<p>The Prince of Winter sat on the mountains:
+an old man with white hair and beard. His
+naked breast was shaggy, shaggy his legs and
+hands. He looked strong and wild with cold
+stern eyes.</p>
+
+<p>But he was not angry as when Spring drove
+him from the valley and when Autumn did
+not go quickly enough. He looked out over
+the kingdom calmly for he knew that it was
+his. And, when he found anything dead or
+empty or desolate, he plucked at his great
+white beard and gave a harsh and satisfied
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>But all that lived in the land was struck
+with terror when it looked into his cold eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The trees shook in their thick bark, and
+the bushes struck their branches together in
+consternation. The mouse became quite
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>367]</a></span>
+snow-blind, when she peeped outside the
+door; the stag looked mournfully over the
+white meadow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My muzzle can still break thro&rsquo; the ice,
+when I drink,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I can still scrape the
+snow to one side and find a tuft of grass. But,
+if things go on like this for another week,
+then it&rsquo;s all up with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The crow and the chaffinch and the sparrow
+and the tit had quite lost their voices. They
+thought of the other birds, who had departed
+in time, and they who remained knew not
+where to turn in their distress. At last they
+set out in a row to carry their humble greeting
+to the new lord of the land.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here come your birds, O mightiest of all
+Princes!&rdquo; said the crow and stood and marked
+time in the white snow. &ldquo;The others left the
+country as soon as you announced your coming,
+but we have remained to submit us to
+your sway. Now be a gracious lord to us
+and grant us food.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We bow before Your Highness!&rdquo; said the
+chaffinch.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We have so longed for you,&rdquo; said
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>368]</a></span>
+the tit, and he put his head on one side.</p>
+
+<p>And the sparrow said the same as the others,
+in a tone of deep respect.</p>
+
+<p>But the Prince of Winter laughed at them
+disdainfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ha, you time-serving birds! In Summer&rsquo;s
+time you amused yourselves merrily, in Autumn&rsquo;s,
+you ate yourselves stout and fat; and
+as soon as Spring strikes up you will dance to
+his piping like the others. I hate you and
+your screaming and squalling and the trees
+you hop about in. You are all here to defy
+me and I shall do for you if I can.&rdquo; Then he
+rose in all his strength.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have my own birds and now you shall
+see them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He clapped his hands and sang:</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Wee snow-birds, white snow-birds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through fields skim along!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To jubilant Spring I grudge music of no birds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Summer, no song.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>369]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Come, Winter&rsquo;s mute messengers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Swift birds and slow birds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the valley be soft as down for your nestling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of numberless ice-eggs by frosty rims spanned!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now rushing, now resting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Skim soft thro&rsquo; the land!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And Winter&rsquo;s birds came.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, it darkened, and the air became
+full of little black specks, which descended
+and turned into great white snow-flakes.</p>
+
+<p>They fell over the ground in an endless multitude.
+There was now not a blade of grass,
+nor yet a stone to be seen: everything was
+smooth and soft and white. Only the trees
+stood out high in the air and the river flowed
+black thro&rsquo; the meadow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know how to crush you,&rdquo; said the Prince
+of Winter.</p>
+
+<p>And, when evening came, he told the wind
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>370]</a></span>
+to go down. Then the waves became small
+and still, Winter stared at them with his cold
+eyes, and the ice built its bridge from bank
+to bank. In vain the waves tried to hum
+Spring&rsquo;s song. There was no strength in their
+voices.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning there was nothing left to the
+river but a narrow channel; and, when one
+more night had passed, the bridge was finished.
+Again the Prince of Winter called for
+his white birds; and soon the carpet was
+drawn over the river till it was no longer possible
+to see where land began or water ended.</p>
+
+<p>But the trees stood boldly out of the deep
+snow, the firs had kept all their leaves and
+were so green that it was quite shocking to
+behold. Wherever they stood, they were a
+protection against the frost and a shelter
+against the snow; and the chaffinch and the
+other small birds found refuge under their
+roofs.</p>
+
+<p>The Prince of Winter looked at them
+angrily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I could but break you!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You
+stand in the midst of my kingdom keeping
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>371]</a></span>
+guard for Summer and you give shelter to the
+birds who disturb the peace of my land. If
+only I had snow enough to bury you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But the trees stood strong under Winter&rsquo;s
+wrath and waved their long branches.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have taken from us what you can,&rdquo;
+they said. &ldquo;Farther than that you cannot go.
+We will wait calmly for better times.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When they had said this Winter suddenly
+set eyes upon tiny little buds round about the
+twigs. He saw the little brown mice trip out
+for a run in the snow and disappear again into
+their snug parlours before his eyes. He heard
+the hedgehog snoring in the hedge; and the
+crows kept on screaming in his ears. Through
+his own ice he saw the noses of the frogs
+stick up from the bottom of the pond.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Am I the master or not?&rdquo; he shouted. He
+tore at his beard with both hands.</p>
+
+<p>He heard the anemones breathe peacefully
+and lightly in the mould; he heard thousands
+of grubs bore deep into the wood of the trees
+as cheerfully as though Summer were in the
+land. He saw the bees crawl about in their
+busy hive and share the honey they had
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>372]</a></span>
+collected in summer, and have a happy time. He
+saw the bat in the hollow tree, the worm deep
+in the ground; and, wherever he turned, he
+saw millions of eggs and grubs and chrysalides,
+well guarded and waiting confidently
+for him to go away.</p>
+
+<p>He stamped on the ground and shouted in
+his loud, hoarse voice:</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&ldquo;Roar forth, mine anger, roar, and rouse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What breathes below earth&rsquo;s girder!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By thousands slay them!&rdquo;<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He shouted it over the land.</p>
+
+<p>The ice broke and split into long cracks. It
+sounded like thunder from the bottom of the
+river.</p>
+
+<p>Then the storm broke loose. The gale
+roared so that you could hear the trees fall
+crashing in the forest. The ice was split in
+two and the huge floes heaped up into towering
+icebergs. The snow fell and drifted over
+meadow and hill; sky and earth were blended
+into one. It was piercingly cold, and where
+the snow had been blown away the ground was
+hard as stone.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>373]</a></span>
+The Prince of Winter stood in the valley
+and looked upon all this with content. He
+went into the forest, where the snow was
+frozen to windward right up to the tips of the
+smooth beech-trunks; but in the boughs of the
+fir-trees it lay so thick that they were weighted
+right down to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may be Summer&rsquo;s servants,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;but still you have to resign yourselves to
+wearing my livery. And now the sun shall
+shine on you; and I will have a glorious
+day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He bade the sun come out and he came.</p>
+
+<p>He rode over a bright blue sky, and all that
+was still alive in the valley raised itself
+towards him for warmth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Call Spring back to the valleys! Give us
+Summer again!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The sun gleamed upon the hoar-frost but
+could not melt it; he stared down at the snow,
+but could not thaw it. The valley lay silent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s how I like to see the land,&rdquo; said
+Winter.</p>
+
+<p>The Prince of Winter sat on his mountain
+throne again and surveyed his kingdom and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>374]</a></span>
+was glad. His great cold eyes stared, while
+he growled in his beard.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Proud of speed and hard of hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">A cruel lord to follow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Winter locks up sea and land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Blocks up every hollow.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Summer coaxes, sweet and bland,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Flowers in soft vigour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At Winter&rsquo;s harsh and grim command<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">They die of ruthless rigour.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Short and cold is Winter&rsquo;s Day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Long and worse night&rsquo;s hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Few birds languish in his pay<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And yet fewer flowers.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The days wore on and Winter reigned over
+the land.</p>
+
+<p>The little brown mice had eaten their last
+nut; the hedgehog was hungry and the crows
+were nearly giving in.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly there came the sound of
+singing.</p>
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>375]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Play up! Play soon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keep time! Keep time!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye wavelets blue and tender,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keep time! Keep time!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burst ice and rime<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In equinoctial splendor.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Up leaped Winter and stared with his
+hands over his brows.</p>
+
+<p>Down below in the valley stood the Prince
+of Spring, young and straight in his green
+garb, with the lute slung over his shoulder.
+His long hair waved in the wind and his face
+was soft and round, his mouth was ever smiling
+and his eyes were dreamy and moist.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>376]</a></span></p>
+
+<h3><a name="bk6chap08" id="bk6chap08"></a>HOW SPRING AND WINTER MET</h3>
+
+
+<div class="cpoem">
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Winter and the Spring were met:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Winter threw a fleecy net,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And caught the young Spring over night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He put to sleep the budding tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Within a cloister dim and white;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the little golden crocus flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That comes too early for the bee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He hid away from sunrise hour.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The brook was conscious of his power<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lost its trick of babbling words.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But Spring awoke, despite his craft,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And out of windows looked and laughed.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At first he set to sing all birds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With twittering voices small and clear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bade them say they felt no grief<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To find the snow and mildewed leaf<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heaped up in nests they built last year.<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[<span class="hidden">Pg </span>377]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Then found a crystal alcove high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The bluebird carolled to the sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The robin whistled cheer, good cheer!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sparrow rung his matin bells,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And far away in reedy dells<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The quail a friendly greeting sent.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then was the stifled pine not loth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To shuffle off the dull white sloth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then leaped the brook by icy stair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And snapped his fetters as he went;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sun shone out most full and fair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Winter rose and struck his tent.<br /></span>
+<span class="poet">Edith M. Thomas.<br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="bbox">
+<p><b>Transcriber's Note</b></p>
+
+<p>On pp. <a href="#Page_13">13-14</a> the text reads, "The king took up the sack nearest to him,
+their surprise, when out rushed a great heap of brown leaves, which flew
+all over the floor and half choked them with dust!" It appears there may
+be some missing text between "nearest to him" and "their surprise"; there
+does not appear to be any damage or obscured text in the original book, and
+the line count matches that of other pages, so it may be that a line was omitted
+during typesetting. The transcriber was unable to locate an alternative printing
+of the story, so, as it is impossible to determine what that text may be, the
+omission is preserved as printed.</p>
+
+<p>Poe is referred to in this text as Edgar Allen Poe, rather than the more
+usual Edgar Allan Poe. This is preserved as printed.</p>
+
+<p>Although authors and translators are listed in the Table of Contents, their
+names are not always included with their prose in the main text. This
+convention is retained here to match the original book.</p>
+
+<p>Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.</p>
+
+<p>Hyphenation and capitalisation has been made consistent within individual
+pieces in the book.</p>
+
+<p>The following amendments have been made:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>First page of <a href="#acknowledgments">Acknowledgments</a>&mdash;Edinburg amended to
+Edinburgh&mdash;"To T.&nbsp;C. and E.&nbsp;C. Jack of Edinburgh ..."</p>
+
+<p>Second page of <a href="#acknowledgments">Acknowledgments</a>&mdash;Procter amended to Proctor&mdash;"... James Russell
+Lowell, Edna Dean Proctor, ..."</p>
+
+<p>Second page of <a href="#contents">Contents</a>&mdash;Horatio amended to Horatia&mdash;"... <i>Juliana Horatia
+Ewing</i> ..."</p>
+
+<p>Third page of <a href="#contents">Contents</a>&mdash;Spring and Winter reversed&mdash;"How Spring and
+Winter Met ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_19">19</a>&mdash;Parain amended to Parian&mdash;"... On coop or kennel he hangs Parian
+wreaths; ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_52">52</a>&mdash;truely amended to truly&mdash;"I have told you truly who she is."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_75">75</a>&mdash;place amended to placed&mdash;"... they are placed alternately on each
+side ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_279">279</a>&mdash;stone amended to stove&mdash;"I went under the stove and could lie down ..."</p>
+
+<p>Page <a href="#Page_360">360</a>&mdash;hop-vine amended to hop-bine&mdash;"... and a long ripe hop-bine trailing
+after him ..."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pearl Story Book, by Various
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pearl Story Book, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Pearl Story Book
+ Stories and Legends of Winter, Christmas, and New Year's Day
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: December 6, 2010 [EBook #34571]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PEARL STORY BOOK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Sam W. and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ THE
+ PEARL STORY BOOK
+
+ _Stories and Legends of
+ Winter, Christmas, and New Year's Day_
+
+
+ COMPILED BY
+
+ ADA M. SKINNER
+ AND
+ ELEANOR L. SKINNER
+
+ _Editors of "The Emerald Story Book,"
+ "The Topaz Story Book," "The Turquoise
+ Story Book," "Children's Plays," Etc._
+
+
+ [Decoration]
+
+
+ NEW YORK
+ DUFFIELD & COMPANY
+ 1919
+
+
+ Copyright 1910 by
+ DUFFIELD & COMPANY
+
+
+ [Illustration: {Three shepherds look up at the sky, amazed}
+ _Drawn by Maxfield Parrish_]
+
+
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
+
+
+The editors' thanks are due to the following authors and publishers
+for the use of valuable material in this book:
+
+To T. C. and E. C. Jack of Edinburgh for permission to use "Holly" and
+the legend of the "Yew" from "Shown to the Children Series"; to
+Frederick A. Stokes Company for "The Voice of the Pine Trees," from
+"Myths and Legends of Japan"; to the Wessels Company for "The First
+Winter" by W. W. Canfield; to Julia Dodge for permission to use two
+poems by Mary Mapes Dodge; to the Christian Herald for a poem by
+Margaret E. Sangster, Jr.; to Lothrop, Lee and Shepherd for "The Pine
+and the Flax" by Albrekt Segerstedt; to the Outlook Company for a
+story by Mine Morishima; to the Independent for the poem "Who Loves
+the Trees Best?"; to Laura E. Richards for her story "Christmas
+Gifts"; to George Putnam and Sons for "Silver Bells" by Hamish Hendry,
+and "The Happy Prince" by Oscar Wilde; to the Churchman for a story
+by John P. Peters; to Dodd, Mead and Company for the story "Holly"
+from the "Story Hour"; and "Prince Winter" from "The Four Seasons" by
+Carl Ewald; to George Jacobs for "A Legend of St. Nicholas" from "In
+God's Garden" by Amy Steedman; to A. Flanagan Company for "The New
+Year's Bell" from "Christ-Child Tales" by Andrea Hofer Proudfoot; to
+Jay T. Stocking and the Pilgrims Press for "The Snowball That Didn't
+Melt" from "The Golden Goblet"; to the New York State Museum for
+permission to use two stories contained in Bulletin 125, by Mrs. H. M.
+Converse; to Small, Maynard and Company for "A Song of the Snow," from
+"Complete Works of Madison Cawein."
+
+The selections from James Russell Lowell, Edna Dean Proctor, Celia
+Thaxter, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edith M. Thomas, Margaret Deland, John
+Townsend Trowbridge, and Frank Dempster Sherman are used by permission
+of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin Company,
+authorized publishers of their works.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ INTRODUCTION
+
+
+ WINTER STORIES AND LEGENDS
+
+ PAGE
+
+ Winter (selection) _James Russell Lowell_ 2
+
+ The Ice King (Indian legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 3
+
+ A Song of the Snow (poem) _Madison Cawein_ 9
+
+ King Frost and King Winter
+ (adapted) _Margaret T. Canby_ 11
+
+ The Snowstorm (poem) _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ 18
+
+ The First Winter (Iroquois
+ legend) _W. W. Canfield_ 20
+
+ Snow Song (poem) _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 24
+
+ The Snow Maiden (Russian
+ legend. Translated from
+ the French) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 25
+
+ The Frost King (poem) _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 30
+
+ King Winter's Harvest _Selected_ 32
+
+ Old King Winter (poem) _Anna E. Skinner_ 36
+
+ Sheltering Wings _Harriet Louise Jerome_ 37
+
+ Snowflakes (selection) _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 41
+
+ The Snow-Image _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 42
+
+
+ WINTER WOODS
+
+ The First Snow-Fall _James Russell Lowell_ 62
+
+ The Voice of the Pine Trees
+ (Japanese legend) _Frank Hadland Davis_ 63
+
+ The Pine Tree Maiden (Indian
+ legend) _Ada M. Skinner_ 68
+
+ The Holly _Janet Harvey Kelman_ 73
+
+ The Fable of the Three
+ Elms (poem) _Margaret E. Sangster, Jr._ 79
+
+ The Pine and the Willow _Mine Morishima_ 82
+
+ Why the Wild Rabbits Are
+ White in Winter
+ (Algonquin legend retold) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 86
+
+ The Yew _Janet Harvey Kelman_ 93
+
+ How the Pine Tree Did
+ Some Good _Samuel W. Duffield_ 95
+
+ A Wonderful Weaver (poem) _George Cooper_ 105
+
+ The Pine and the Flax _Albrekt Segerstedt_ 107
+
+ The Fir Tree (poem) _Edith M. Thomas_ 110
+
+ Why Bruin Has a Stumpy Tail
+ (Norwegian legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 111
+
+ Pines and Firs _Mrs. Dyson_ 116
+
+ Who Loves the Trees Best?
+ (poem) _Selected_ 131
+
+
+ CHRISTMAS EVERYWHERE
+
+ A Christmas Song _Phillips Brooks_ 134
+
+ The Shepherd Maiden's Gift
+ (Eastern legend) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 135
+
+ Christmas Gifts _Laura E. Richards_ 141
+
+ Silver Bells (poem) _Hamish Hendry_ 146
+
+ The Animals' Christmas Tree _John P. Peters_ 147
+
+ A Christmas Carol _Christina Rossetti_ 162
+
+ Holly _Ada M. Marzials_ 164
+
+ The Willow Man (poem) _Juliana Horatia Ewing_ 175
+
+ The Ivy Green (selection) _Charles Dickens_ 178
+
+ Legend of St. Nicholas _Amy Steedman_ 179
+
+ Christmas Bells (selection) _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 197
+
+ A Night With Santa Claus _Anna R. Annan_ 198
+
+ A Child's Thought About
+ Santa Claus (poem) _Sydney Dayre_ 208
+
+ Charity in a Cottage _Jean Ingelow_ 210
+
+ The Waits (poem) _Margaret Deland_ 223
+
+ Where Love Is There God
+ Is Also (adapted) _Leo Tolstoi_ 225
+
+ God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen _Dinah Mulock Craik_ 234
+
+
+ THE GLAD NEW YEAR
+
+ The Glad New Year (poem) _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 236
+
+ The Bad Little Goblin's
+ New Year _Mary Stewart_ 237
+
+ Selection _Robert Herrick_ 248
+
+ The Queen of the Year (poem) _Edna Dean Proctor_ 249
+
+ The New Year's Bell _Andrea Hofer Proudfoot_ 250
+
+ The New Year _Selected_ 256
+
+ The Child and the Year (poem) _Celia Thaxter_ 257
+
+ A Masque of the Days _Charles Lamb_ 258
+
+ Ring Out, Wild Bells (poem) _Alfred Tennyson_ 262
+
+
+ MIDWINTER
+
+ The Bells (selection) _Edgar Allen Poe_ 264
+
+ A January Thaw _Dallas Lore Sharp_ 265
+
+ The Snow Man _Hans Christian Andersen_ 276
+
+ The Happy Prince _Oscar Wilde_ 284
+
+ The Legend of King Wenceslaus
+ (adapted) _John Mason Neale_ 303
+
+ Midwinter (poem) _John Townsend Trowbridge_ 310
+
+
+ WHEN WINTER AND SPRING MET
+
+ Old Winter (poem) _Thomas Noel_ 314
+
+ The Snowball That Didn't Melt _Jay T. Stocking_ 315
+
+ Gau-wi-di-ne and Go-hay
+ (Iroquois legend retold) _Eleanor L. Skinner_ 330
+
+ Naming the Winds (Indian
+ legend retold) _Ada M. Skinner_ 339
+
+ North Wind's Frolic
+ (translated) _Montgomery Maze_ 343
+
+ The Months: A Pageant
+ (adapted) _Christina Rossetti_ 346
+
+ Prince Winter _Carl Ewald_ 366
+
+ How Spring and Winter
+ Met (poem) _Edith M. Thomas_ 376
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+"Once upon a time," in the winter season suggests happy, young faces
+grouped about a blazing fire. A heavy snowstorm promises plenty of
+sport for tomorrow, but at present the cosiness indoors is very
+attractive, especially now that the evening story hour is at hand. And
+while the story-teller is slowly choosing his subjects he hears the
+children's impatient whispers of "The Snow Man," "Prince Winter," "The
+Legend of Holly," "The Animals' Christmas Tree."
+
+Silence! The story-teller turns his eyes from the glowing fire to the
+faces of his eager audience. He is ready to begin.
+
+Each season of the year opens a treasury of suggestion for stories. In
+the beauty and wonder of nature are excellent themes for tales which
+quicken children's interest in the promise of joyous springtime, in
+the rich pageantry of ripening summer, in the blessings of generous
+autumn, and in the merry cheer of grim old winter.
+
+The Pearl Story Book is the fourth volume in a series of nature books
+each of which emphasizes the interest and beauty characteristic of a
+particular season. The central theme of this volume is winter,
+"snow-wrapped and holly-decked."
+
+
+
+
+WINTER STORIES AND LEGENDS
+
+
+
+
+WINTER
+
+
+ Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak,
+ From the snow five thousand summers old;
+ On open wold and hill-top bleak
+ It had gathered all the cold,
+ And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek.
+ It carried a shiver everywhere
+ From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare;
+ The little brook heard it and built a roof
+ 'Neath which he could house him winter-proof;
+ All night by the white stars' frosty gleams
+ He groined his arches and matched his beams;
+ Slender and clear were his crystal spars
+ As the lashes of light that trim the stars:
+ He sculptured every summer delight
+ In his halls and chambers out of sight.
+
+ James Russell Lowell.
+
+
+
+
+THE ICE KING
+
+(Indian Legend)
+
+
+Once upon a time there was an Indian village built on the bank of a
+wide river. During the spring, summer, and autumn the people were very
+happy. There was plenty of fuel and game in the deep woods; the river
+afforded excellent fish. But the Indians dreaded the months when the
+Ice King reigned.
+
+One winter the weather was terribly cold and the people suffered
+severely. The Ice King called forth the keen wind from the northern
+sky, and piled the snowdrifts so high in the forests that it was most
+difficult to supply the wigwams with game. He covered the river with
+ice so thick that the Indians feared it would never melt.
+
+"When will the Ice King leave us?" they asked each other. "We shall
+all perish if he continues his cruel reign."
+
+At last signs of spring encouraged the stricken people. The great
+snowdrifts in the forests disappeared and the ice on the river broke
+into large pieces. All of these floated downstream except one huge
+cake which lodged on the bank very near the village. And when the
+Indians saw that the spring sunshine did not melt this great mass of
+ice they were puzzled and anxious.
+
+"It is the roof of the Ice King's lodge," they said. "We shall never
+enjoy warm weather while he dwells near us. Have we no brave who is
+willing to do battle with this winter tyrant?"
+
+At last, a courageous young hunter armed himself with a huge club and
+went forth to see if he could shatter the glittering frozen mass and
+rid the village of the giant who dwelt beneath it. With all his
+strength he struck the ice roof blow upon blow, crying out, "Begone, O
+cruel Ice King! Your time is past! Begone!"
+
+Finally, there was a deafening noise like the crashing of forest trees
+when the lightning strikes, and the huge ice cake split into several
+pieces.
+
+"Begone!" cried the young brave, as he struggled with each great lump
+of ice until he pushed it from the bank and tumbled it into the river
+below.
+
+And when the mighty task was finished the white figure of the Ice King
+stood before the Indian brave.
+
+"You have ruined my lodge," said the giant.
+
+"The winter season is past," answered the brave. "Begone!"
+
+"After several moons I shall return to stay," threatened the Ice King.
+Then he stalked away toward the North.
+
+The people were very happy when they knew that the young brave had
+conquered the giant; but their joy was somewhat dampened when they
+heard about the threatened return of the Ice King.
+
+"I shall prepare for his return and do battle with him again,"
+declared the Indian conqueror.
+
+This promise comforted the people somewhat, but still they thought of
+the coming winter with dread.
+
+During the autumn the hunter built near the river a strong wigwam and
+stored therein abundant fuel and dried game. He filled many bags made
+of skin, with oil, which he procured from the animals he killed. Also,
+he was well supplied with fur rugs, blankets, and warm clothes.
+
+At last the winter season came. The cold north wind blew unceasingly,
+the snow piled high around the wigwams; ice several feet thick covered
+the river.
+
+"The Ice King has come," said the Indians. "If he keeps his threat to
+stay among us we shall surely perish."
+
+One bitter cold day the young Indian who had prepared well for the
+severe weather sat in his wigwam near a blazing fire. Suddenly, a
+strong gust of wind tore aside the bear skin which protected the
+doorway and into the lodge stalked the Ice King. His freezing breath
+filled the place and dampened the fire. He took a seat opposite the
+Indian brave who said, "Welcome, Ice King."
+
+"I've come to stay," answered the giant.
+
+The Indian shivered with cold at the sudden change of temperature in
+his wigwam, but he rose and brought more logs to the fire. Also, he
+opened one of his bags of oil and poured the contents on the great
+pieces of wood. The flames soon caught the oil-soaked logs and a
+roaring fire crackled and blazed in the wigwam. More and more fuel the
+young brave piled on his fire until finally the frosty cold air was
+changed to summer heat.
+
+The Ice King shifted his seat away from the glowing fire. Farther and
+farther away he pushed until he sat with his back against the wall of
+the wigwam. As he moved he seemed to grow smaller and weaker. The icy
+feathers of his headgear drooped about his forehead and great drops of
+sweat covered his face. But still the Indian brave piled fuel on the
+blazing fire.
+
+"Spare me, O hunter," cried the Ice King.
+
+But to the words of the giant the young Indian was deaf. He opened
+another bag of oil and poured it on the logs.
+
+"Have mercy, I beg you!" pleaded the Ice King. He rose and staggered
+toward the door.
+
+"You have conquered me," he said in a weak voice. "I will depart.
+Twice you have won a victory over me. I give up my hope of reigning
+continually among your people. My season shall last during three
+moons, only."
+
+He staggered out of the wigwam and stalked wearily away. Since that
+day the giant Ice King has not tried to reign throughout the year.
+
+
+
+
+A SONG OF THE SNOW
+
+
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter dawn,
+ When the air is still and the clouds are gone,
+ And the snow lies deep on hill and lawn,
+ And the old clock ticks, "'Tis time! 'Tis time!"
+ And the household rises with many a yawn
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter dawn!
+ Sing, Ho!
+
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter sky
+ When the last star closes its icy eye
+ And deep in the road the snow-drifts lie,
+ And the old clock ticks, "'Tis late! 'Tis late!"
+ And the flame on the hearth leaps red--leaps high
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter sky!
+ Sing, Ho!
+
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter morn
+ When the snow makes ghostly the wayside thorn,
+ And hills of pearl are the shocks of corn,
+ And the old clock ticks, "Tick-tock; tick-tock;"
+ And the goodman bustles about the barn
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter morn!
+ Sing, Ho!
+
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter day,
+ When ermine capped are the stocks of hay,
+ And the wood-smoke pillars the air with gray,
+ And the old clock ticks, "To work! To work!"
+ And the goodwife sings as she churns away
+ Sing, Ho, a song of the winter day!
+ Sing, Ho!
+
+ Madison Cawein.
+
+
+
+
+KING FROST AND KING WINTER
+
+Margaret T. Canby
+
+
+King Winter lives in a very strong palace near the cold North Pole; it
+is built of great blocks of thick ice, and all around it stand high,
+pointed icebergs, and cross, white bears keep guard at the gate. He
+has many little fairy servants to do his bidding and they are like
+their master, cross and spiteful, and seldom do any kind actions, so
+that few are found who love them. King Winter is rich and powerful,
+but he keeps all his wealth so tightly locked up that it does no one
+any good; and what is worse, he often tries to get the treasures of
+other persons, to add to the store in his money chests.
+
+One day when this selfish old king was walking through the woods he
+saw the leaves thickly covered with gold and precious stones, which
+had been spread upon them by King Frost, to make the trees more
+beautiful and give pleasure to all who saw them. But looking at them
+did not satisfy King Winter; he wanted to have the gold for his own,
+and he made up his mind to get it, somehow. Back he went to his palace
+to call his servants home to do this new work. As soon as he reached
+the gate, he blew a loud, shrill note on his horn and in a few minutes
+his odd little fairies came flying in at the windows and doors and
+stood before him quietly waiting their commands. The king ordered some
+to go out into the forest, at nightfall, armed with canes and clubs,
+and beat off all the gold and ruby leaves; and he told others to take
+strong bags, and gather up all the treasure, and bring it to him.
+
+"If that silly King Frost does not think any more of gold and precious
+stones than to waste them on trees I shall teach him better," said the
+old king.
+
+The fairies promised to obey him, and as soon as night came, off they
+rushed to the forest, and a terrible noise they made, flying from one
+beautiful tree to another, banging and beating the leaves off.
+Branches were cracking and falling on all sides, and leaves were
+flying about, while the sound of shouting and laughing and screaming
+told all who heard it that the spiteful winter fairies were at some
+mischief. The other fairies followed, and gathered up the poor
+shattered leaves, cramming them into the great bags they had brought,
+and taking them to King Winter's palace as fast as they were filled.
+
+This work was kept up nearly all night and when morning came, the
+magic forest of many-colored leaves was changed into a dreary place.
+Bare trees stretched their long brown branches around and seemed to
+shiver in the cold wind and to sigh for the beautiful dress of shining
+leaves so rudely torn from them.
+
+King Winter was very much pleased, as one great sack after another was
+tugged in by the fairies and when morning came he called his servants
+together and said, "You have all worked well, my fairies, and have
+saved much treasure from being wasted; I will now open these bags and
+show you the gold. Each of you shall have a share."
+
+The king took up the sack nearest to him, their surprise, when out
+rushed a great heap of brown leaves, which flew all over the floor and
+half choked them with dust! When the king saw this he growled with
+rage and looked at the fairies with a dark frown on his face. They
+begged him to look at the next sack, but when he did so, it, too, was
+full of brown leaves, instead of gold and precious stones. This was
+too much for King Winter's patience. He tossed the bags one by one out
+of the palace window, and would have tossed the unlucky fairies after
+them, had not some of the bravest ones knelt down and asked for mercy,
+telling him they had obeyed his orders, and, if King Frost had taken
+back his treasure, they were not to blame.
+
+This turned their master's anger against King Frost, and very angry
+and fierce he was. He gnashed his great teeth with rage and rushed up
+and down in his palace, until it shook again. At last he made up his
+mind to go out that night, break down King Frost's beautiful palace,
+and take away all his riches.
+
+When night came, he started out with all his fairies. Some were armed
+with the clubs they had beaten off the leaves with, and others had
+lumps of ice to throw at their enemy; but the king had been so angry
+all day that he had not told them what to do; also, he had left their
+sharp spears locked up. He wrapped himself in his great white cloak of
+swan's down in order that he might look very grand, and so they went
+on their way.
+
+King Frost lived on the other side of the wood, and he had heard all
+the noise made by the winter fairies in spoiling the trees and had
+seen the next morning the mischief they had done. It made him very
+sorry to find the beautiful leaves all knocked off and taken away, and
+he determined to punish King Winter by going to attack _his_ palace
+that night. He spent the day making ready and dressing himself and his
+servants in shining coats of ice-armour and giving each one several
+spears and darts of ice tipped with sharp diamond points. They looked
+like brave little soldiers.
+
+The two groups of fairies met in the midst of the great wood. After
+some words between the kings, their servants fell to blows and a
+great battle they had. The winter fairies fought with their clubs and
+threw lumps of ice at the frost fairies; but their clubs were weak
+from being used so roughly the night before and soon broke; and when
+their ice-balls were all thrown away they could find no more. But King
+Frost had armed his servants well, and they threw their icy darts
+among the winter fairies. The trees, too, seemed to fight on the Frost
+King's side. The bare twigs pulled their hair and the branches ripped
+their ice clothes wherever they could. So the winter fairies had the
+worst of it and at last started off at full speed and rushed through
+the woods, never stopping till they reached the palace, and shut
+themselves in--leaving their king, who was too proud to run, all alone
+with King Frost and his fairies. You may be sure they were not very
+merciful to him. They began to pull his cloak, calling out, "Give us
+your cloak to keep our trees warm. You stole their pretty leaves; you
+must give us your cloak."
+
+Now this was a magic cloak and had been given to King Winter by the
+Queen of the fairies, so when he felt them pulling at it, he wrapped
+it tightly about him, and began to run. After him flew the frost
+fairies, pulling and plucking at his great white cloak, snatching out
+a bit here and a bit there and laughing and shouting while King Winter
+howled and roared and rushed along, not knowing where he went. On they
+flew up and down the wood in and out among the trees,--their way
+marked by the scattered bits of white down from King Winter's cloak.
+When day began King Winter found himself near his own palace. He
+dashed his tattered cloak to the ground and rushed through the gate,
+shaking his fist at King Frost.
+
+He and his fairies took the cloak. As they went home through the woods
+they hung beautiful wreaths of white down on all the trees and also
+trimmed the branches with their broken spears and darts, which shone
+like silver in the sunlight, and made the woods look as bright almost,
+as before it had been robbed of its golden and ruby leaves. Even the
+ground was covered with shining darts and white feathers. Every one
+thought it very beautiful, and no one could tell how it happened.
+(_Adapted._)
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOWSTORM
+
+
+ Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
+ Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
+ Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
+ Hides hills and woods, and river, and the heaven,
+ And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end,
+ The sled and traveler stopped, the courier's feet
+ Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
+ Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed
+ In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
+
+ Come, see the north wind's masonry.
+ Out of an unseen quarry evermore
+ Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
+ Curves his white bastions with projected roof
+ Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
+ Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
+ So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
+ For number or proportion. Mockingly,
+ On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
+ A swanlike form invests the hidden thorn;
+ Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
+ Mauger the farmer's sighs; and at the gate
+ A tapering turret overtops the work.
+ And when his hours are numbered, and the world
+ Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
+ Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
+ To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone--
+ Built in an age, the mad wind's night work,
+ The frolic architecture of the snow.
+
+ Ralph Waldo Emerson.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST WINTER
+
+(Iroquois Legend)
+
+
+There was a time when the days were always of the same length, and it
+was always summer. The red men lived continually in the smile of the
+Great Spirit and were happy. But there arose a chief who was so
+powerful that he at last declared himself mightier than the Great
+Spirit, and taught his brothers to go forth to the plain and mock him.
+They would call upon the Great Spirit to come and fight with them or
+would challenge him to take away the crop of growing corn or drive the
+game from the woods. They would say he was an unkind father to keep
+himself and their dead brothers in the Happy Hunting Grounds, where
+the red men could hunt forever without weariness.
+
+They laughed at their old men who had feared for so many moons to
+reproach the Great Spirit for his unfair treatment of the Indians who
+were compelled to hunt and fish for game for their wives and children,
+while their own women had to plant the corn and harvest it.
+
+"In the Happy Hunting Grounds," they said, "the Great Spirit feeds our
+brothers and their wives and does not let any foes or dangers come
+upon them, but here he lets us go hungry many times. If he is as great
+as you have said, why does he not take care of his children here?"
+
+Then the Great Spirit told them he would turn his smiling face away
+from them, so that they should have no more light and warmth and they
+must build fires in the forest if they would see.
+
+But the red men laughed and taunted him, telling him that he had
+followed one trail so long that he could not get out of it, but would
+have to come every day and give them light and heat as usual. Then
+they would dance and make faces at him and taunt him with his
+helplessness.
+
+In a few days the quick eyes of some of the red men saw in the morning
+the face of the Great Spirit appear where it was not wont to appear,
+but they were silent, fearing the jibes of their brothers. Finally,
+duller eyes noticed the change, and alarm and consternation spread
+among the people. Each day brought less and less of the Great Spirit's
+smile and his countenance was often hidden by dark clouds, while
+terrible storms beat upon the frightened faces turned in appeal toward
+the heavens. The strong braves and warriors became as women; the old
+men covered their heads with skins and starved in the forests; while
+the women in their lodges crooned the low, mournful wail of the death
+song. Frosts and snows came upon an unsheltered and stricken race, and
+many of them perished.
+
+Then the Great Spirit, who had almost removed his face from the sight
+of men, had pity and told them he would come back. Day after day the
+few that remained alive watched with joy the return of the sun. They
+sang in praise of the approaching summer and once more hailed with
+thankfulness the first blades of growing corn as it burst from the
+ground. The Great Spirit told his children that every year, as a
+punishment for the insults they had given their Father, they should
+feel for a season the might of the power they had mocked; and they
+murmured not, but bowed their heads in meekness.
+
+
+
+
+SNOW SONG
+
+
+ Over valley, over hill,
+ Hark, the shepherd piping shrill,
+ Driving all the white flock forth,
+ From the far folds of the north.
+
+ Blow, wind, blow,
+ Weird melodies you play,
+ Following your flocks that go
+ Across the world today.
+
+ Hither, thither, up and down,
+ Every highway of the town,
+ Huddling close the white flocks all
+ Gather at the shepherd's call.
+
+ Blow, wind, blow,
+ Upon your pipes of joy,
+ All your sheep the flakes of snow
+ And you their shepherd boy.
+
+ Frank Dempster Sherman.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW MAIDEN
+
+(Russian Legend)
+
+
+Once upon a time there lived a peasant named Ivan and his wife, Marie.
+They were very sad because they had no children. One cold winter day
+the peasant and his wife sat near a window in their cottage and
+watched the village children playing in the snow. The little ones were
+busily at work making a beautiful snow maiden.
+
+Ivan turned to his wife and said, "What a good time the children are
+having. See, they are making a beautiful snow maiden. Come, let us go
+into the garden and amuse ourselves in the same way. We will make a
+pretty little snow image."
+
+They went into the garden which lay back of their cottage.
+
+"My husband," said Marie, "we have no children, what do you say to
+our making for ourselves a child of snow?"
+
+"A very good idea!" said the husband. And he at once began to mold the
+form of a little body, with tiny feet and hands. His wife made a small
+head and set it upon the shoulders of the snow image.
+
+A man who passed by the garden stopped for a moment and looked at the
+peasants who were so strangely occupied. After a moment's silence he
+said to them, "May God help you."
+
+"Thank you," said Ivan.
+
+"God's blessing, indeed, is always good," nodded Marie.
+
+"What are you making?" asked the stranger.
+
+Ivan looked up and said, "We are making a little snow maiden." Then he
+went on with his work, forming the nose, chin, and eyes.
+
+In a few moments the snow child was finished, and Ivan looked at her
+in great admiration. Suddenly, he noticed that the mouth and eyes
+opened, the cheeks and lips took on a rosy hue, and in a few moments
+the astonished peasant saw standing before him a living child.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked, filled with wonder at seeing a little girl
+instead of a snow image.
+
+"I am Snow White, your little daughter," said the child. Then she
+threw her arms lovingly around the man and his wife, who both began to
+cry for joy.
+
+The delighted parents took Snow White into the cottage, and before
+long the news ran through the village that a little daughter had come
+to live with Ivan and Marie.
+
+Of course the village children came to play with Snow White. She was
+such a charming little girl, with a very white skin, eyes as blue as
+the sky, and lovely golden hair. To be sure, her cheeks were not so
+rosy as those of her companions, but she was so bright and gentle that
+everyone loved her very much indeed.
+
+The winter passed very quickly and Snow White grew so fast that by the
+time the trees were veiled in the green buds of spring she was as tall
+as a girl of twelve or thirteen years.
+
+During the winter months the snow maiden had been very joyous and
+happy, but when the mild, warm days of spring came she seemed sad and
+low-spirited. Her mother, Marie, noticed the change and said to her,
+"My dear little girl, why are you sad? Tell me, are you ill?"
+
+"No, mother, dear, I am not ill," said Snow White. But she no longer
+seemed to enjoy playing out of doors with the other children; she
+stayed very quietly in the cottage.
+
+One lovely spring day the village children came to the cottage and
+called out, "Come, Snow White! Come! We are going into the woods to
+gather wild flowers. Come with us."
+
+"Yes, do go, my dear!" said mother Marie. "Go with your little friends
+and gather spring flowers. I'm sure you'll enjoy the outing."
+
+Away went the happy children to the woods. They gathered the lovely
+wild flowers and made them into bouquets and coronets, and when the
+afternoon sun began to sink in the western sky they built a big
+bonfire. Gayly they sang little songs, merrily dancing around the
+bright, crackling blaze.
+
+"Let each one dance alone," called out one of the little girls.
+
+"Snow White, watch us for a little while, and then you, too, will
+know how to dance alone."
+
+Away whirled the happy little children, dancing freely round and round
+the bonfire. In a little while Snow White joined them.
+
+When the gay little people were out of breath and the dancing grew
+slower and slower, some one called out, "Where is Snow White?"
+
+"Snow White, where are you?" shouted the other children, but nowhere
+could they find their little companion.
+
+They ran home and told Ivan and Marie that Snow White had disappeared
+while dancing round the bonfire. The villagers made a thorough search
+for the little maiden, but they never found her, for while she was
+dancing around the bonfire she had slowly changed into a little white
+vapour and had flown away toward the sky, where she changed into a
+delicate snowflake.
+
+
+
+
+THE FROST KING
+
+
+ Oho! have you seen the Frost King,
+ A-marching up the hill?
+ His hoary face is stern and pale,
+ His touch is icy chill.
+ He sends the birdlings to the South,
+ He bids the brooks be still;
+ Yet not in wrath or cruelty
+ He marches up the hill.
+
+ He will often rest at noontime,
+ To see the sunbeams play;
+ And flash his spears of icicles,
+ Or let them melt away.
+ He'll toss the snowflakes in the air,
+ Nor let them go nor stay;
+ Then hold his breath while swift they fall,
+ That coasting boys may play.
+
+ He'll touch the brooks and rivers wide,
+ That skating crowds may shout;
+ He'll make the people far and near
+ Remember he's about.
+ He'll send his nimble, frosty Jack--
+ Without a shade of doubt--
+ To do all kinds of merry pranks,
+ And call the children out;
+
+ He'll sit upon the whitened fields,
+ And reach his icy hand
+ O'er houses where the sudden cold
+ Folks cannot understand.
+ The very moon, that ventures forth
+ From clouds so soft and grand,
+ Will stare to see the stiffened look
+ That settles o'er the land.
+
+ And so the Frost King o'er the hills,
+ And o'er the startled plain,
+ Will come and go from year to year
+ Till Earth grows young again--
+ Till Time himself shall cease to be,
+ Till gone are hill and plain:
+ Whenever Winter comes to stay,
+ The hoary King shall reign.
+
+ Mary Mapes Dodge.
+
+
+
+
+KING WINTER'S HARVEST
+
+
+King Winter sat upon his iceberg throne, and waving his scepter, a
+huge icicle, called for all the Snow Fairies and Frost Fairies to draw
+near, as he wished to see them.
+
+"Tell me, Snow Fairies," said King Winter, "what have you been doing
+of late; have you made anybody happy by your work?"
+
+"Oh, yes," they all said at once, "we had the jolliest time last night
+putting white dresses on the trees, white spreads over the grasses,
+white caps on all the fence posts, and making things look so strange
+that when the children came out in the morning they just shouted and
+laughed, and soon threw so much snow over each other that they were
+dressed in white, too, and seemed Snow Fairies like ourselves. They,
+too, wanted to make curious canes, castles, and other things with the
+snow as we had done. Sleds were brought out and when the sleighbells
+commenced their music it seemed that everybody was made glad by our
+work."
+
+"Well done," said King Winter, "now away to your work again."
+
+In a twinkling the Snow Fairies were up in a purple cloud-boat
+throwing a shower of snowflake kisses down to King Winter to thank him
+for giving them work to do.
+
+"Now, Frost Fairies," said King Winter, turning to a glittering band
+who wore some of his own jewels, "what have you done to make anybody
+glad?"
+
+"We have made pictures upon the windows and hung your jewels upon the
+trees for the people to look at, and covered the skating ponds," said
+Jack Frost, the leader.
+
+"That is good," said King Winter. "You and the Snow Fairies seem to be
+making the world glad now, but pretty soon we must leave the work, and
+the good sunbeams will put our things away; they will hide the
+snowballs, and crack the skating ponds so that the ice may float
+downstream. Now I would like to make something that will keep long
+after we are gone away. Queen Summer is gone but her harvest of hay
+and grain is in the barns. Queen Autumn is gone but her harvest of
+apples and potatoes is in the cellars; now I want to leave a harvest,
+too."
+
+"But the sunbeams are away most of the time now," said Jack Frost.
+"Can anything grow without them?"
+
+"My harvest will grow best without them," said King Winter, "and I'll
+just hang up a thick cloud curtain and ask them to play upon the other
+side while my harvest grows. Mr. North Wind will help, and if all you
+Frost Fairies do your liveliest work my harvest will soon be ready."
+
+North Wind soon came with bags of cold air which he scattered hither
+and thither, while the Frost Fairies carried it into every track and
+corner, wondering all the while what the harvest would be. But after
+two days' work they found out; for horses were hitched to sleds and
+men started for the lakes and rivers, saying, "The ice has frozen so
+thick that it is a fine time to fill the ice-houses." Saws and poles
+were carried along, and soon huge blocks of ice were finding places
+upon the sleds ready for a ride to some ice-house where they would be
+packed so securely in sawdust that King Winter's harvest would keep
+through the very hottest weather.
+
+"Then the ice-men can play that they are we," said a Frost Fairy,
+"scattering cold all about to make people glad."
+
+
+
+
+OLD KING WINTER
+
+
+ Old King Winter's on his throne
+ In robes of ermine white;
+ The crown of jewels on his head
+ Now glitters bright with light.
+
+ The little flakes of snow and hail,
+ And tiny pearls of sleet,
+ Are with the wild winds dancing
+ All round his magic feet.
+
+ His beard is white, his cheeks are red,
+ His heart is filled with cheer;
+ His season's best some people say;
+ The _best_ of all the year.
+
+ Anna E. Skinner.
+
+
+
+
+SHELTERING WINGS
+
+Harriet Louise Jerome
+
+
+It was intensely cold. Heavy sleds creaked as they scraped over the
+jeweled sounding board of dry, unyielding snow; the signs above shop
+doors shrieked and groaned as they swung helplessly to and fro; and
+the clear, keen air seemed frozen into sharp little crystalline
+needles that stabbed every living thing that must be out in it. The
+streets were almost forsaken in mid-afternoon. Business men hurried
+from shelter to shelter; every dog remained at home; not a bird was to
+be seen or heard. The sparrows had been forced to hide themselves in
+crevices and holes; the doves found protected corners and huddled
+together as best they could; many birds were frozen to death.
+
+A dozen or more doves were gathered close under the cornice of the
+piazza of a certain house, trying with little success to keep warm.
+Some small sparrows, disturbed and driven from the cozy place they had
+chosen, saw the doves and came flying across the piazza.
+
+"Dear doves," chirped the sparrows, "won't you let us nestle near you?
+Your bodies look so large and warm."
+
+"But your coats are frosted with cold. We cannot let you come near us,
+for we are almost frozen now," murmured the doves sadly.
+
+"But we are perishing."
+
+"So are we."
+
+"It looks so warm near your broad wings, gentle doves. Oh, let us
+come! We are so little, and so very, very cold!"
+
+"Come," cooed a dove at last, and a trembling little sparrow fluttered
+close and nestled under the broad white wing.
+
+"Come," cooed another dove, and another little sparrow found comfort.
+
+"Come! Come!" echoed another warm-hearted bird, and another, until at
+last more than half the doves were sheltering small, shivering
+sparrows beneath their own half-frozen wings.
+
+"My sisters, you are very foolish," said the other doves. "You mean
+well, but why do you risk your own beautiful lives to give life to
+worthless sparrows?"
+
+"Ah! they were so small, and so very, very cold," murmured the doves.
+"Many of us will perish this cruel night; while we have life let us
+share its meager warmth with those in bitter need."
+
+Colder and colder grew the day. The sun went down behind the clouds
+suffused with soft and radiant beauty, but more fiercely and
+relentlessly swept the wind around the house where the doves and
+sparrows waited for death.
+
+An hour after sunset a man came up to the house and strode across the
+piazza. As the door of the house closed heavily behind him, a little
+child watching from the window saw something jarred from the cornice
+fall heavily to the piazza floor.
+
+"Oh, papa," she cried in surprise, "a poor frozen dove has fallen on
+our porch!"
+
+When he stepped out to pick up the fallen dove the father saw the
+others under the cornice. They were no longer able to move or to
+utter a cry, so he brought them in and placed them in a room where
+they might slowly revive. Soon more than half of the doves could coo
+gratefully, and raise their stiffened wings. Then out from beneath the
+wing of each revived dove fluttered a living sparrow.
+
+"Look, papa!" cried the child. "Each dove that has come to life was
+holding a poor little sparrow close to her heart."
+
+They gently raised the wings of the doves that could not be revived.
+Not one had a sparrow beneath it.
+
+Colder and fiercer swept the wind without, cutting and more piercing
+grew the frozen, crystalline needles of air, but each dove that had
+sheltered a frost-coated sparrow beneath her own shivering wings lived
+to rejoice in the glowing gladsome sunshine of the days to come.
+
+
+
+
+SNOWFLAKES
+
+
+ Out of the Bosom of the Air,
+ Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
+ Over the woodlands brown and bare,
+ Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
+ Silent, and soft, and slow,
+ Descends the snow.
+
+ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW-IMAGE
+
+Nathaniel Hawthorne
+
+
+One afternoon of a cold winter's day, when the sun shone forth with
+chilly brightness, after a long storm, two children asked leave of
+their mother to run out and play in the new-fallen snow.
+
+The elder child was a little girl, whom, because she was of a tender
+and modest disposition, and was thought to be very beautiful, her
+parents, and other people who were familiar with her, used to call
+Violet.
+
+But her brother was known by the title of Peony, on account of the
+ruddiness of his broad and round little phiz, which made everybody
+think of sunshine and great scarlet flowers.
+
+"Yes, Violet--yes, my little Peony," said their kind mother; "you may
+go out and play in the new snow."
+
+Forth sallied the two children, with a hop-skip-and-jump, that
+carried them at once into the very heart of a huge snow-drift, whence
+Violet emerged like a snow bunting, while little Peony floundered out
+with his round face in full bloom.
+
+Then what a merry time they had! To look at them, frolicking in the
+wintry garden, you would have thought that the dark and pitiless storm
+had been sent for no other purpose but to provide a new plaything for
+Violet and Peony; and that they themselves had been created, as the
+snowbirds were, to take delight only in the tempest and in the white
+mantle which it spread over the earth.
+
+At last, when they had frosted one another all over with handfuls of
+snow, Violet, after laughing heartily at little Peony's figure, was
+struck with a new idea.
+
+"You look exactly like a snow-image, Peony," said she, "if your cheeks
+were not so red. And that puts me in mind! Let us make an image out of
+snow--an image of a little girl--and it shall be our sister, and shall
+run about and play with us all winter long. Won't it be nice?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried Peony, as plainly as he could speak, for he was but
+a little boy. "That will be nice! And mamma shall see it."
+
+"Yes," answered Violet; "mamma shall see the new little girl. But she
+must not make her come into the warm parlour, for, you know, our
+little snow-sister will not love the warmth."
+
+And forthwith the children began this great business of making a
+snow-image that should run about; while their mother, who was knitting
+at the window and overheard some of their talk, could not help smiling
+at the gravity with which they set about it. They really seemed to
+imagine that there would be no difficulty whatever in creating a live
+little girl out of the snow.
+
+Indeed, it was an exceedingly pleasant sight--those bright little
+souls at their task! Moreover, it was really wonderful to observe how
+knowingly and skillfully they managed the matter. Violet assumed the
+chief direction, and told Peony what to do, while, with her own
+delicate fingers, she shaped out all the nicer parts of the
+snow-figure.
+
+It seemed, in fact, not so much to be made by the children, as to
+grow up under their hands, while they were playing and prattling about
+it. Their mother was quite surprised at this, and the longer she
+looked, the more and more surprised she grew.
+
+Now, for a few moments, there was a busy and earnest but indistinct
+hum of the two children's voices, as Violet and Peony wrought together
+with one happy consent. Violet still seemed to be the guiding spirit,
+while Peony acted rather as a labourer and brought her the snow from
+far and near. And yet the little urchin evidently had a proper
+understanding of the matter, too.
+
+"Peony, Peony!" cried Violet; for her brother was at the other side of
+the garden. "Bring me those light wreaths of snow that have rested on
+the lower branches of the pear-tree. You can clamber on the
+snow-drift, Peony, and reach them easily. I must have them to make
+some ringlets for our snow-sister's head!"
+
+"Here they are, Violet!" answered the little boy. "Take care you do
+not break them. Well done! Well done! How pretty!"
+
+"Does she not look sweet?" said Violet, with a very satisfied tone;
+"and now we must have some little shining bits of ice to make the
+brightness of her eyes. She is not finished yet. Mamma will see how
+very beautiful she is; but papa will say, 'Tush! nonsense! come in out
+of the cold!'"
+
+"Let us call mamma to look out," said Peony; and then he shouted,
+"Mamma! mamma!! mamma!!! Look out and see what a nice 'ittle girl we
+are making!"
+
+"What a nice playmate she will be for us all winter long!" said
+Violet. "I hope papa will not be afraid of her giving us a cold!
+Sha'n't you love her dearly, Peony?"
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried Peony. "And I will hug her and she shall sit down
+close by me and drink some of my warm milk."
+
+"Oh, no, Peony!" answered Violet, with grave wisdom. "That will not do
+at all. Warm milk will not be wholesome for our little snow-sister.
+Little snow-people like her eat nothing but icicles. No, no, Peony; we
+must not give her anything warm to drink!"
+
+There was a minute or two of silence; for Peony, whose short legs
+were never weary, had gone again to the other side of the garden. All
+of a sudden, Violet cried out, loudly and joyfully, "Look here, Peony!
+Come quickly! A light has been shining on her cheek out of that
+rose-coloured cloud! And the colour does not go away! Is not that
+beautiful?"
+
+"Yes, it is beau-ti-ful," answered Peony, pronouncing the three
+syllables with deliberate accuracy. "O Violet, only look at her hair!
+It is all like gold!"
+
+"Oh, certainly," said Violet, as if it were very much a matter of
+course. "That colour, you know, comes from the golden clouds that we
+see up there in the sky. She is almost finished now. But her lips must
+be made very red, redder than her cheeks. Perhaps, Peony, it will make
+them red if we both kiss them!"
+
+Accordingly, the mother heard two smart little smacks, as if both her
+children were kissing the snow-image on its frozen mouth. But, as this
+did not seem to make the lips quite red enough, Violet next proposed
+that the snow-child should be invited to kiss Peony's scarlet cheek.
+"Come, 'ittle snow-sister, kiss me!" cried Peony.
+
+"There! she has kissed you," added Violet, "and now her lips are very
+red. And she blushed a little, too!"
+
+"Oh, what a cold kiss!" cried Peony.
+
+Just then, there came a breeze of the pure west wind sweeping through
+the garden and rattling the parlour-windows. It sounded so wintry
+cold, that the mother was about to tap on the window-pane with her
+thimbled finger, to summon the two children in, when they both cried
+out to her with one voice:
+
+"Mamma! mamma! We have finished our little snow-sister, and she is
+running about the garden with us!"
+
+"What imaginative little beings my children are!" thought the mother,
+putting the last few stitches into Peony's frock. "And it is strange,
+too, that they make me almost as much a child as they themselves are!
+I can hardly help believing now that the snow-image has really come to
+life!"
+
+"Dear mamma!" cried Violet, "pray look out and see what a sweet
+playmate we have!"
+
+The mother, being thus entreated, could no longer delay to look forth
+from the window. The sun was now gone out of the sky, leaving,
+however, a rich inheritance of his brightness among those purple and
+golden clouds which make the sunsets of winter so magnificent.
+
+But there was not the slightest gleam or dazzle, either on the window
+or on the snow; so that the good lady could look all over the garden,
+and see everything and everybody in it. And what do you think she saw
+there? Violet and Peony, of course, her own two darling children.
+
+Ah, but whom or what did she see besides? Why, if you will believe me,
+there was a small figure of a girl, dressed all in white, with
+rose-tinged cheeks and ringlets of golden hue, playing about the
+garden with the two children!
+
+A stranger though she was, the child seemed to be on as familiar terms
+with Violet and Peony, and they with her, as if all the three had been
+playmates during the whole of their little lives. The mother thought
+to herself that it must certainly be the daughter of one of the
+neighbours, and that, seeing Violet and Peony in the garden, the child
+had run across the street to play with them.
+
+So this kind lady went to the door, intending to invite the little
+runaway into her comfortable parlour; for, now that the sunshine was
+withdrawn, the atmosphere out of doors was already growing very cold.
+
+But, after opening the house-door, she stood an instant on the
+threshold, hesitating whether she ought to ask the child to come in,
+or whether she should even speak to her. Indeed, she almost doubted
+whether it were a real child, after all, or only a light wreath of the
+new-fallen snow, blown hither and thither about the garden by the
+intensely cold west wind.
+
+There was certainly something very singular in the aspect of the
+little stranger. Among all the children of the neighbourhood the lady
+could remember no such face, with its pure white and delicate
+rose-colour, and the golden ringlets tossing about the forehead and
+cheeks.
+
+And as for her dress, which was entirely of white, and fluttering in
+the breeze, it was such as no reasonable woman would put upon a little
+girl when sending her out to play in the depth of winter. It made this
+kind and careful mother shiver only to look at those small feet, with
+nothing in the world on them except a very thin pair of white
+slippers.
+
+Nevertheless, airily as she was clad, the child seemed to feel not the
+slightest inconvenience from the cold, but danced so lightly over the
+snow that the tips of her toes left hardly a print in its surface;
+while Violet could but just keep pace with her, and Peony's short legs
+compelled him to lag behind.
+
+All this while, the mother stood on the threshold, wondering how a
+little girl could look so much like a flying snow-drift, or how a
+snow-drift could look so very like a little girl.
+
+She called Violet and whispered to her.
+
+"Violet, my darling, what is this child's name?" asked she. "Does she
+live near us?"
+
+"Why, dearest mamma," answered Violet, laughing to think that her
+mother did not comprehend so very plain an affair, "this is our
+little snow-sister whom we have just been making!"
+
+"Yes, dear mamma," cried Peony, running to his mother, and looking up
+simply into her face. "This is our snow-image! Is it not a nice 'ittle
+child?"
+
+"Violet," said her mother, greatly perplexed, "tell me the truth,
+without any jest. Who is this little girl?"
+
+"My darling mamma," answered Violet, looking seriously into her
+mother's face, surprised that she should need any further explanation,
+"I have told you truly who she is. It is our little snow-image which
+Peony and I have been making. Peony will tell you so, as well as I."
+
+"Yes, mamma," declared Peony, with much gravity in his crimson little
+phiz, "this is 'ittle snow-child. Is not she a nice one? But, mamma,
+her hand is, oh, so very cold!"
+
+While mamma still hesitated what to think and what to do, the
+street-gate was thrown open, and the father of Violet and Peony
+appeared, wrapped in a pilot-cloth sack, with a fur cap drawn down
+over his ears, and the thickest of gloves upon his hands.
+
+Mr. Lindsey was a middle-aged man, with a weary and yet a happy look
+in his wind-flushed and frost-pinched face, as if he had been busy all
+day long, and was glad to get back to his quiet home. His eyes
+brightened at the sight of his wife and children, although he could
+not help uttering a word or two of surprise at finding the whole
+family in the open air, on so bleak a day, and after sunset, too.
+
+He soon perceived the little white stranger, sporting to and fro in
+the garden, like a dancing snow-wreath and the flock of snowbirds
+fluttering about her head.
+
+"Pray, what little girl may this be?" inquired this very sensible man.
+"Surely her mother must be crazy, to let her go out in such bitter
+weather as it has been today, with only that flimsy white gown and
+those thin slippers!"
+
+"My dear husband," said his wife, "I know no more about the little
+thing than you do. Some neighbour's child, I suppose. Our Violet and
+Peony," she added, laughing at herself for repeating so absurd a
+story, "insist that she is nothing but a snow-image which they have
+been busy about in the garden, almost all the afternoon."
+
+As she said this, the mother glanced her eyes toward the spot where
+the children's snow-image had been made. What was her surprise on
+perceiving that there was not the slightest trace of so much
+labour!--no image at all!--no piled-up heap of snow!--nothing
+whatever, save the prints of little footsteps around a vacant space!
+
+"This is very strange!" said she.
+
+"What is strange, dear mother?" asked Violet. "Dear father, do not you
+see how it is? This is our snow-image, which Peony and I have made,
+because we wanted another playmate. Did not we, Peony?"
+
+"Yes, papa," said crimson Peony. "This is our 'ittle snow-sister. Is
+she not beau-ti-ful? But she gave me such a cold kiss!"
+
+"Pooh, nonsense, children!" cried their good honest father, who had a
+plain, sensible way of looking at matters. "Do not tell me of making
+live figures out of snow. Come, wife; this little stranger must not
+stay out in the bleak air a moment longer. We will bring her into the
+parlour; and you shall give her a supper of warm bread and milk, and
+make her as comfortable as you can."
+
+So saying, this honest and very kind-hearted man was going toward the
+little damsel, with the best intentions in the world. But Violet and
+Peony, each seizing their father by the hand, earnestly besought him
+not to make her come in.
+
+"Nonsense, children, nonsense, nonsense!" cried the father,
+half-vexed, half-laughing. "Run into the house, this moment! It is too
+late to play any longer now. I must take care of this little girl
+immediately, or she will catch her death of cold."
+
+And so, with a most benevolent smile, this very well-meaning gentleman
+took the snow-child by the hand and led her toward the house.
+
+She followed him, droopingly and reluctant, for all the glow and
+sparkle were gone out of her figure; and, whereas just before she had
+resembled a bright, frosty, star-gemmed evening, with a crimson gleam
+on the cold horizon, she now looked as dull and languid as a thaw.
+
+As kind Mr. Lindsey led her up the steps of the door, Violet and Peony
+looked into his face, their eyes full of tears which froze before they
+could run down their cheeks, and again entreated him not to bring
+their snow-image into the house.
+
+"Not bring her in!" exclaimed the kind-hearted man. "Why, you are
+crazy, my little Violet!--quite crazy, my small Peony! She is so cold
+already that her hand has almost frozen mine, in spite of my thick
+gloves. Would you have her freeze to death?"
+
+His wife, as he came up the steps, had been taking another long,
+earnest gaze at the little white stranger. She hardly knew whether it
+was a dream or no; but she could not help fancying that she saw the
+delicate print of Violet's fingers on the child's neck. It looked just
+as if, while Violet was shaping out the image, she had given it a
+gentle pat with her hand, and had neglected to smooth the impression
+quite away.
+
+"After all, husband," said the mother, "after all, she does look
+strangely like a snow-image! I do believe she is made of snow!"
+
+A puff of the west wind blew against the snow-child, and again she
+sparkled like a star.
+
+"Snow!" repeated good Mr. Lindsey, drawing the reluctant guest over
+his hospitable threshold. "No wonder she looks like snow. She is half
+frozen, poor little thing! But a good fire will put everything to
+rights."
+
+This common-sensible man placed the snow-child on the hearth-rug,
+right in front of the hissing and fuming stove.
+
+"Now she will be comfortable!" cried Mr. Lindsey, rubbing his hands
+and looking about him, with the pleasantest smile you ever saw. "Make
+yourself at home, my child."
+
+Sad, sad and drooping, looked the little white maiden as she stood on
+the hearth-rug, with the hot blast of the stove striking through her
+like a pestilence. Once she threw a glance toward the window, and
+caught a glimpse, through its red curtains, of the snow-covered roofs
+and the stars glimmering frostily, and all the delicious intensity of
+the cold night. The bleak wind rattled the window-panes as if it were
+summoning her to come forth. But there stood the snow-child, drooping,
+before the hot stove!
+
+But the common-sensible man saw nothing amiss.
+
+"Come, wife," said he, "let her have a pair of thick stockings and a
+woolen shawl or blanket directly; and tell Dora to give her some warm
+supper as soon as the milk boils. You, Violet and Peony, amuse your
+little friend. She is out of spirits, you see, at finding herself in a
+strange place. For my part, I will go around among the neighbours and
+find out where she belongs."
+
+The mother, meanwhile, had gone in search of the shawl and stockings.
+Without heeding the remonstrance of his two children, who still kept
+murmuring that their little snow-sister did not love the warmth, good
+Mr. Lindsey took his departure, shutting the parlour door carefully
+behind him.
+
+Turning up the collar of his sack over his ears, he emerged from the
+house, and had barely reached the street-gate, when he was recalled by
+the screams of Violet and Peony and the rapping of a thimbled finger
+against the parlour window.
+
+"Husband! husband!" cried his wife, showing her horror-stricken face
+through the window panes. "There is no need of going for the child's
+parents!"
+
+"We told you so, father!" screamed Violet and Peony, as he re-entered
+the parlour. "You would bring her in; and now our poor--dear--beau-ti-ful
+little snow-sister is thawed!"
+
+And their own sweet little faces were already dissolved in tears; so
+that their father, seeing what strange things occasionally happen in
+this every-day world, felt not a little anxious lest his children
+might be going to thaw too. In the utmost perplexity, he demanded an
+explanation of his wife. She could only reply that, being summoned to
+the parlour by cries of Violet and Peony, she found no trace of the
+little white maiden, unless it were the remains of a heap of snow,
+which, while she was gazing at it, melted quite away upon the
+hearth-rug.
+
+"And there you see all that is left of it!" added she, pointing to a
+pool of water, in front of the stove.
+
+"Yes, father," said Violet, looking reproachfully at him through her
+tears, "there is all that is left of our dear little snow-sister!"
+
+"Naughty father!" cried Peony, stamping his foot, and--I shudder to
+say--shaking his little fist at the common-sensible man. "We told you
+how it would be! What for did you bring her in?"
+
+And the stove, through the isinglass of its door, seemed to glare at
+good Mr. Lindsey, like a red-eyed demon, triumphing in the mischief
+which it had done! (_Abridged._)
+
+
+
+
+WINTER WOODS
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRST SNOW-FALL
+
+
+ The snow had begun in the gloaming,
+ And busily all the night
+ Had been heaping field and highway
+ With a silence deep and white.
+
+ Every pine and fir and hemlock
+ Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
+ And the poorest twig on the elm tree
+ Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
+
+ James Russell Lowell.
+
+
+
+
+THE VOICE OF THE PINE TREES
+
+(Japanese Legend)
+
+
+ "And all the while
+ The voice of the breeze
+ As it blows through the firs
+ That grow old together
+ Will yield us delight."
+
+In ancient days there lived a fisherman and his wife, and little
+daughter Matsue. There was nothing that Matsue loved to do more than
+to sit under the great pine tree. She was particularly fond of the
+pine needles that never seemed tired of falling to the ground. With
+these she fashioned a beautiful dress and sash, saying, "I will not
+wear these pine clothes until my wedding day."
+
+One day while Matsue was sitting under the pine tree, she sang the
+following song:
+
+ "No one so callous but he heaves a sigh
+ When o'er his head the withered cherry flowers
+ Come fluttering down. Who knows?--the spring's soft showers
+ May be but tears shed by the sorrowing sky."
+
+While thus she sang Teogo stood on the steep shore of Sumiyoshi
+watching the flight of a heron. Up, up, it went into the blue sky, and
+Teogo saw it fly over the village where the fishfolk and their
+daughter lived.
+
+Now Teogo was a youth who dearly loved adventure and he thought it
+would be very delightful to swim across the sea and discover the land
+over which the heron had flown. So one morning he dived into the sea
+and swam so hard and so long that the poor fellow found the waves
+spinning and dancing and saw the great sky bend down and try to touch
+him. Then he lay unconscious on the water; but the waves were kind to
+him after all, for they pressed him on and on till he was washed up at
+the very place where Matsue sat under the pine tree.
+
+Matsue carefully dragged Teogo underneath its sheltering branches,
+and then set him down upon a couch of pine needles, where he soon
+regained consciousness and warmly thanked Matsue for her kindness.
+
+Teogo did not go back to his own country, for, after a few happy
+months had gone by, he married Matsue and on her wedding morn she wore
+her dress and sash of pine needles.
+
+When Matsue's parents died her loss only seemed to make her love for
+Teogo the more. The older they grew the more they loved each other.
+Every night when the moon shone, they went hand in hand to the pine
+tree and with their little rake they made a couch for the morrow.
+
+One night the great silver face of the moon peered through the
+branches of the pine tree and looked in vain for the two sitting
+together on a couch of pine needles. Their little rakes lay side by
+side and still the moon waited for the slow steps of these pine tree
+lovers. But that night they did not come. They had gone home to an
+everlasting place on the River of Souls.
+
+They had loved so well and so splendidly, in old age as well as in
+youth, that their souls were allowed to come back again and wander
+round the pine tree that had listened to their love for so many years.
+
+When the moon is full they whisper and laugh and sing and draw the
+pine needles together, while the sea sings softly upon the shore:
+
+ "The dawn is near
+ And the hoar-frost falls
+ On the fir tree twigs;
+ But its leaves dark green
+ Suffer no change.
+ Morning and evening
+ Beneath its shade
+ The leaves are swept away,
+ Yet they never fail.
+ True it is
+ That these fir trees
+ Shed not all their leaves;
+ Their verdure remains fresh
+ For ages long,
+ As the Masaka's trailing vine;
+ Even amongst evergreen trees--
+ The emblem of unchangeableness--
+ Exalted is their fame
+ As a symbol to the end of time.
+ The fame of the fir trees that
+ Have grown old together."
+
+
+
+
+THE PINE TREE MAIDEN
+
+(Indian Legend)
+
+
+In an Indian village which stood near the Big Sea Water lived a
+beautiful little girl whose name was Leelinau. Her chief delight was
+to wander among the pine trees of a sacred grove which bordered the
+great waters. Here she passed many hours watching the sunlight dance
+on the stems of the tall trees and listening to the soft music of the
+wind as it came up from the sea and played in the forest.
+
+The child's desire to spend so much of her time alone in the grove
+made her little companions regard her with awe, and they sometimes
+whispered together about the meaning of her strange journeys to the
+deep woods.
+
+"Leelinau goes to the forest to play with the Puckwudjinies. She
+dances with the fairy folk and talks to them in their own language,"
+said the Indian children when they saw the little girl's figure
+hurrying toward the grove of pine trees.
+
+Leelinau's parents took little notice of her strange attraction for
+the lonely forest. They thought it was a childish fancy which would
+vanish in a few years. But the little girl grew into a beautiful
+slender maiden and still she visited her retreat with increasing
+delight.
+
+"When Leelinau goes to the forest the air is filled with the sweetest
+perfume and the trees nod their feathery plumes in welcome to her,"
+whispered the youths and maidens of the village. "Some say she calls
+the pine trees by name and they answer her in a strange language which
+she understands."
+
+One day it happened that an Indian hunter, who was a mighty chief,
+passed through the sacred grove. There, leaning against her favourite
+tree, a stately pine, he saw Leelinau, a dark-haired maiden
+marvellously beautiful. In a few days the chief sought her parents and
+laid before them rich gifts, saying that he wished to make the forest
+maiden his bride.
+
+To the surprise of all the people in the village Leelinau took no joy
+in her approaching marriage to the great chief. To be sure, she made
+no complaint, for she was an obedient daughter. But each day, when she
+returned from her accustomed journey to the forest, she was sad and
+thoughtful. Sometimes she stood before her father's tepee and looked
+with wistful eyes toward her beloved grove.
+
+At last the day arrived on which the great chief would claim her for
+his bride. The forest maiden dressed herself in her beautiful wedding
+robe and took her usual walk into the forest. Her parents were not
+surprised that she should wish to take a farewell look at the grove
+where she had spent so many happy hours, and which she was about to
+leave, for the great chief lived many miles away.
+
+When she reached the forest she hastened to her beautiful pine tree.
+Clinging to the trunk she wept bitterly and whispered the story of her
+coming marriage to a war chief from whom her heart shrank in fear.
+When she had finished there was a soft rustling in the branches
+overhead and a voice said: "Leelinau! Leelinau! thou art my beloved!
+Wilt thou stay in the forest and be my bride?"
+
+And she answered, "I will never leave my pine tree lover."
+
+The sun stood high above the sacred grove and Leelinau had not
+returned to her father's lodge. Friends were sent to bring her to the
+village but they came back with the report that the maiden was not in
+the forest. The great chief and his warriors searched far and wide for
+the lost maiden. She had disappeared so completely that the
+keenest-eyed Indians could discover no trace of her. The chief
+departed without his bride and for a year no tidings of Leelinau came
+to the village.
+
+It happened one calm evening when the sun was sinking into the Big Sea
+Water, that an Indian youth in a birch bark canoe was swiftly skimming
+along toward the shore bordered by the sacred grove. There, standing
+near the deep forest, was a familiar figure. It was Leelinau, the lost
+maiden. In his surprise and joy the youth shouted to her and she
+waved her hand to him in recognition. Then he noticed that she was
+not alone. By her side stood a handsome brave with a green plume
+standing high on his head. With all his might the young Indian
+quickened the speed of his canoe and in a few moments he sprang
+ashore. But where were Leelinau and the young brave! They had
+disappeared and not a trace of them was to be found on the lonely
+shore or in the forest.
+
+The youth returned to the village and told his story. Reverently the
+people bowed their heads and whispered, "Leelinau will never come back
+to us. She is the bride of her favourite pine tree."
+
+
+
+
+THE HOLLY
+
+Janet Harvey Kelman
+
+
+The Holly is our most important evergreen, and is so well known that
+it scarcely needs any description. It has flourished in this country
+as long as the Oak, and is often found growing under tall trees in the
+crowded forests, as well as in the open glades, where lawns of fine
+grass are to be found.
+
+People say that the Holly, or Holm tree, as it is often called, is the
+greenwood tree spoken of by Shakespeare, and that under its bushy
+shelter Robin Hood and his merry men held their meetings in the open
+glades of Sherwood Forest. Sometimes it is called the Holly tree,
+because from the oldest time of which we have any record its boughs
+have been used to deck our shrines and churches, and in some parts of
+England the country people in December speak of gathering Christmas,
+which is the name they give to the Holly, or Holy tree. It is this
+evergreen which we oftenest use at Christmas-tide to decorate our
+churches, and very lovely the dark green sprays, with their coral
+berries, look when twined round the grey stone pillars.
+
+The Holly is looked upon as a second-rate forest tree. It is never
+very large, and it usually appears as a thick, tall bush, with many
+branches reaching almost to the ground. Sometimes you find it with a
+slender, bare trunk, clothed with pale grey bark, and if you look
+closely at this bark you will see that it is covered with curious
+black markings, as if some strange writing had been traced on it with
+a heavy black pen.
+
+This writing is the work of a tiny plant which makes its home on the
+Holly stem and spreads in this strange way.
+
+The bark of the young Holly shoots and boughs is pale green and quite
+smooth.
+
+The tree requires little sunshine, and it seems to keep all it gets as
+every leaf is highly polished and reflects the light like a mirror.
+These leaves grow closely on every branch; they are placed
+alternately on each side of the twigs, and are oval, with the edges so
+much waved that the leaves will not lie flat, but curl on each side of
+the centre rib.
+
+The prickly leaves which grow low down on the tree have sharp spines
+along the waved edges, and a very sharp spine always grows at the
+point of the leaf. But the upper branches are clothed with blunt
+leaves which have no spines along the edges; instead there is a pale
+yellow line round each leaf, and there is a single blunt spine at the
+point.
+
+Sheep and deer are very fond of eating the tough, leathery leaves of
+the Holly, and it is believed that the tree clothes its lower branches
+in prickly leaves to protect itself from these greedy enemies.
+
+Country people tell you that if branches of smooth Holly are the first
+to be brought into the house at Christmas-time, then the wife will be
+head of the house all the next year, but if the prickly boughs enter
+first, then the husband will be ruler.
+
+The Holly leaves hang on the tree several years, and after they fall
+they lie a long time on the ground before the damp soaks through
+their leathery skin and makes them decay. You will find Holly leaves
+from which all the green part of the leaf has disappeared, leaving a
+beautiful skeleton leaf of grey fibre, which is still perfect in every
+vein and rib.
+
+The flowers of the Holly bloom in May. They appear in small crowded
+clusters between the leaf stalk and the twig, and each flower is a
+delicate pale pink on the outside, but is pure white within. There is
+a calyx cup edged with four green points, and inside this cup stands a
+long white tube, with four white petals at the top. There are four
+yellow-headed stamens, and a tiny seed-vessel is hidden inside the
+flower tube. Sometimes all these parts will be found complete in a
+single flower; sometimes there will be flowers on the same branch
+which have stamens and no seed-vessel, and others which have
+seed-vessels and no stamens. Perhaps you will find a whole tree on
+which not a single seed flower grows. This tree may be laden with
+lovely white flowers in spring, but it will bear no berries in winter.
+You must have both stamen flowers and seed flowers if the tree is to
+produce any fruit.
+
+As summer passes, the seed-vessels, which have had stamen dust
+scattered over them, become small green berries and these berries turn
+yellow and then change into a deep red, the colour of coral or sealing
+wax. The berries cluster round the green stalk, and most beautiful
+they are among the glossy dark leaves. Inside each berry there are
+four little fruit stones containing seeds, and the birds love to eat
+these red berries, which are full of mealy pulp; but remember that
+children must never eat the Holly berries, as they are poisonous
+except for the birds.
+
+You will find that if the Holly tree has a good crop of berries this
+winter there will not be many the following year; the tree seems to
+require a year's rest before it can produce a second large crop.
+
+There are some Holly trees with leaves which are shaded with pale yellow
+or white-variegated Hollies, we call them. These are greatly prized for
+planting in gardens, where the bushes with different-coloured leaves
+lend much beauty when all the trees are bare in winter.
+
+The wood of the Holly is too small to be of much use. It is white and
+very hard, and when stained black it is largely used instead of ebony,
+which is scarce and expensive. The black handles of many of our silver
+teapots are made of stained Holly wood, and the slender branches are
+good for making walking-sticks and coachmen's whips.
+
+
+
+
+THE FABLE OF THE THREE ELMS
+
+
+ The North Wind spoke to three sturdy elms,
+ And, "Now you are dead!" said he;
+ "I have blown a blast till the snow whirled past,
+ And withered your leaves, and see:
+ You are brown and old and your boughs are cold!"
+ And he sneered at the elm trees three.
+
+ The first elm spoke in a hollow tone
+ (For the snow lay deep and white,)
+ "You think we are dead, North Wind?" he said,
+ "Why we sleep--as you sleep at night.
+ Beneath the snow lie my sturdy roots,
+ They grip on the friendly earth,
+ And I rest--till another year!" said he,
+ And he shook with a noisy mirth.
+
+ The second elm laughed a hearty laugh,
+ And, "North Wind," he cried in glee,
+ "Beneath my bark glows a living spark,
+ The sap of a healthy tree;
+ My boughs are bare and my leaves are gone,
+ But--what have I to fear?
+ For the winter time is my time of rest
+ And I sleep till another year!"
+
+ The third elm spoke and his voice was sweet,
+ And kind as the summery sea;
+ "Oh, Wind!" he said, "we are far from spring--
+ The God in whose hand we be
+ Looks down, with love, from the winter sky,
+ And sends us His sun to cheer;
+ If we had no snow there would be no spring--
+ We rest till another year!"
+
+ The three elms rocked in the stinging blast,
+ And under the heavy snow
+ Their roots were warm from the raging storm,
+ And safe from the winds that blow.
+ They smiled in their hearts and their leafless boughs
+ Spread over the frosty way;
+ For they knew that the God of forest trees
+ Would watch through each winter day.
+
+ The North Wind uttered a frosty sigh,
+ As the snow blew far and free;
+ And his weary eyes sought the winter skies,
+ And, "Mighty is God!" said he.
+ "To die or live are His gifts to give!"
+ And he smiled at the elm trees three.
+
+ Margaret E. Sangster, Jr.
+
+
+
+
+THE PINE AND THE WILLOW
+
+(Japanese Tale)
+
+Mine Morishima
+
+
+In a beautiful large garden, among many kinds of trees and shrubs,
+there stood a tall fine Pine tree, and near to him, and almost as
+tall, a graceful Willow.
+
+One dark winter morning the wind blew hard and the clouds showed that
+a storm was coming soon.
+
+The Pine felt lonesome, as little children often do and thought he
+would talk to the Willow. So he said, "Friend Willow, your branches
+are trembling. I am sorry for you, for I know you are afraid of the
+storm that is coming. I wish you were like me. I am so strong nothing
+can hurt me. The frost cannot change the colour of my leaves nor the
+wind blow them off; occasionally, some old ones may fall on the
+ground, but there are always new ones to take their places--and I am
+the only tree in this large garden that is always fresh and bright. As
+for you, dear Willow, your branches all hang down, you have no leaves
+now and, as you are neither strong nor pretty and shake in such a
+little wind, of what good are you to yourself, or to any one else?"
+
+"Dear Pine," the Willow answered, "I do not tremble with fear, for I
+am not afraid, but God made me so that the wind would move my branches
+very easily, and that I should not have leaves in the winter time. By
+and by I shall have delicate green leaves and blossoms, and I thank
+Him for giving me a beautiful summer dress, even though I go bare in
+cold weather. It must be very beautiful to be strong and handsome, as
+you are, and I am happy in having so good a friend."
+
+While they were talking the wind had grown much stronger, and now the
+rain came pouring down. The Pine stood up angrily against the wind,
+scolding with a hin, hin, hin, while the Willow bent and swayed to
+and fro and all the other trees bowed their heads.
+
+Then the Pine said, "Willow, why do you not push this rude wind away
+instead of yielding to him; you are cowardly to let him abuse you so,
+when you might resist him, as I do."
+
+Then the Willow answered, "There are many ways to keep oneself from
+harm, and I do not like to resist any one with force."
+
+The Pine was vexed at the Willow and would say no more, but battled
+with the wind he could no longer hold back. Then his branches were
+torn and his top broken off; they fell to the ground and the proud
+tree was a sad sight.
+
+But the Willow bent her branches and yielded to the wind, and so was
+unhurt.
+
+The next morning, when the rain had ceased and the sun shone brightly,
+the owner of the garden came out to see how his trees had stood the
+storm. When he saw the broken Pine he thought it was too bad to have a
+broken tree in his fine garden, so he ordered the gardener to move the
+Pine into the back yard.
+
+After a time, spring came, and the Willow put forth her lovely green
+leaves and every one who passed looked at the graceful tree and said,
+"How beautiful she is, how gentle she seems!"
+
+The little birds built their nests in her branches, and soon baby
+birds came, which made the tree very happy. The butterflies danced
+around in the sunshine and all summer little children loved to play in
+the shade of the drooping Willow.
+
+And when the Pine peeped in from the back yard, and saw how happy and
+beautiful the Willow was, and how the children, the birds, and the
+butterflies loved to play about her, he thought, "If only I had been
+less proud of my own strength, then might I, too, be standing in that
+beautiful garden with my crown of leaves, and with young life all
+about me."
+
+
+
+
+WHY THE WILD RABBITS ARE WHITE IN WINTER
+
+(Algonquin Legend)
+
+Adapted from "Algonquin Indian Tales," by Egerton R. Young. Copyright,
+1903, by Egerton R. Young. Reprinted by permission of the Abington
+Press, Publishers.
+
+
+Long ago Wild Rabbit of the Northland wore a brown fur coat,
+throughout the year. Today, when the long winter months come, Wild
+Rabbit changes his coat of brown to one that is the colour of the
+snow. And this is how the change happened.
+
+Wild Rabbit could not defend himself from his many foes. Almost all
+the animals,--foxes of all kinds, wildcats, wolves, wolverines,
+weasels, and ermine hunted Wild Rabbit for food. Then there were the
+fierce birds,--the eagles, hawks, and owls--that were always on the
+lookout for rabbits, young or old. The result was that with this war
+continually waged against them, the poor rabbits had a hard time of
+it, especially in winter. They found it very difficult to hide
+themselves when the leaves were off the trees and the ground was
+covered with snow.
+
+In those days of long ago the animals used to have a large council.
+There was a great father at the head of each kind of animal and bird,
+and these leaders used to meet and talk about the welfare of their
+kind. There was always peace and friendship among them while at the
+council. They appointed a king and he presided as chief. All the
+animals that had troubles or grievances had a right to come and speak
+about them at the council, and if it were possible, all wrongs were
+remedied.
+
+Sometimes queer things were said. At one council the bear found great
+fault with the fox who had deceived him and had caused him to lose his
+beautiful tail by telling him to go and catch fish with it in a big
+crack in the ice. The bear sat fishing so long that the crack froze up
+solidly and, to save his life, the bear had to break off his tail.
+
+But all the things they talked about were not so funny as the bear's
+complaint. They had their troubles and dangers and they discussed
+various plans for improving their condition; also, they considered how
+they could best defeat the skill and cleverness of the human hunters.
+
+At one of the council meetings, when the rabbit's turn to be heard
+came, he said that his people were nearly all destroyed, that the rest
+of the world seemed to be combined against his race and they were
+killing them by day and night, in summer and winter. Also, he declared
+that the rabbits had little power to fight against enemies, and,
+therefore, his people were almost discouraged, but they had sent him
+to the council to see if the members could suggest any remedy or plan
+to save the rabbit race from complete destruction.
+
+While the rabbit was speaking the wolverine winked at the wildcat,
+while the fox, although he tried to look solemn, could not keep his
+mouth from watering as he thought of the many rabbits he intended to
+eat.
+
+Thus it can be seen that the rabbit did not get much sympathy from his
+enemies in the council. But his friends,--the moose, the reindeer,
+and the mountain goat--stood up in the meeting and spoke out bravely
+for their little friend. Indeed, they told the animals that had
+laughed at the little rabbit's sad story that if they continued to
+kill all the rabbits they could find there would soon be none left.
+Then these cruel animals would be the greatest sufferers, for what
+else could they find to eat in sufficient numbers to keep them alive,
+if the rabbits were all gone?
+
+This thought sobered the thoughtless animals at first but they soon
+resumed their mocking at the poor little rabbit and his story. As they
+happened to be in the majority, the council refused to do anything in
+the matter.
+
+When the moose heard the decision of the council he was very sorry for
+his poor little brother rabbit. He lowered his head and told the
+rabbit to jump on one of his flat horns. The moose then carried him
+some distance away from the council and said, "There is no hope for
+you here. Most of the animals live on you and so they will not do
+anything that will make it more difficult for you to be caught than
+it now is. Your only hope is to go to Manabozho, and see what he can
+do for you. His name was once Manabush, which means Great Rabbit, so I
+am sure he will be your friend because I think he is a distant
+relative of yours."
+
+Away sped the rabbit along the route described by the moose, who had
+lately found out where Manabozho was stopping.
+
+The rabbit was such a timid creature that, when he came near to
+Manabozho, he was much afraid that he would not be welcomed. However,
+his case was desperate, and although his heart was thumping with fear
+he hurried along to have the matter decided as soon as possible.
+
+To his great joy he found Manabozho in the best humour and the little
+creature was received most kindly. The great Master saw how weary the
+little rabbit was after the long journey so he made the little fellow
+rest on some fragrant grass in the sunshine. Then Manabozho went out
+and brought in some of the choicest things in his garden for the
+rabbit.
+
+"Tell me all your troubles, little brother," said Manabozho. "Also,
+tell me about the council meeting."
+
+The rabbit repeated his story and told all about the treatment he had
+received at the council.
+
+When the Great Master heard how unjustly the little rabbit had been
+treated he grew very angry and said, "And that is the way they treated
+little brother rabbit at the council we have given them, is it? And
+they know we expect them to give the smallest and weakest the same
+kind of justice as they offer the biggest and strongest! It is high
+time for some one to report the council news to me if such unfair
+meetings take place. Look out, Mr. Fox, Mr. Wolverine, and Mr.
+Wildcat, for if I take you in hand you'll be sorry little brother
+rabbit was obliged to come to Manabozho for help."
+
+The Great Master had worked himself up into such a furious temper that
+the rabbit was frightened almost to death. But when Manabozho saw this
+he laughed and said, "I'm sorry to have frightened you, little
+brother. But I was so very angry with those animals for ill-treating
+you that I forgot myself. And now tell me what you wish me to do for
+you?"
+
+After a long talk about the matter it was decided that there should be
+two great changes made. First, the eyes of the rabbit should be so
+increased in power that in the future they would be able to see by
+night as well as by day. Second, in all the Northland where much snow
+falls during many months of the year the rabbits of that region should
+change their coats for the winter season into a beautiful white colour
+like the snow.
+
+And the rabbits of the Northland now have a much better time than they
+had formerly. In their soft white coats they can glide away from their
+enemies, or they can sometimes escape notice by remaining perfectly
+still on the white earth. (_Adapted._)
+
+
+
+
+THE YEW
+
+Janet Harvey Kelman
+
+
+Once upon a time a discontented Yew tree grew in a wood. Other trees,
+it thought, had larger and more beautiful leaves which fluttered in
+the breeze and became red and brown and yellow in the sunshine, and
+the Yew tree pined because the fairies had given it such an
+unattractive dress. One morning the sunshine disclosed that all its
+green leaves had changed into leaves made of gold, and the heart of
+the Yew tree danced with happiness. But some robbers, as they stole
+through the forest, were attracted by the glitter, and stripped off
+every golden leaf. Again the tree bemoaned its fate, and next day the
+sun shone on leaves of purest crystal. "How beautiful!" thought the
+tree; "see how I sparkle!" But a hailstorm burst from the clouds, and
+the sparkling leaves lay shivered on the grass. Once more the good
+fairies tried to comfort the unhappy tree. Smooth broad leaves covered
+its branches, and the Yew tree flaunted these gay banners in the wind.
+But, alas, a flock of goats came by and ate of the fresh young leaves
+"a million and ten." "Give me back again my old dress," sobbed the
+Yew, "for I see that it was best." And ever since its leaves remain
+unchanging, and it wears the sombre dress which covered its boughs in
+the days when King William landed from Normandy on our shores, and the
+swineherd tended his pigs in the great forests which covered so much
+of Merry England.
+
+
+
+
+HOW THE PINE TREE DID SOME GOOD
+
+Samuel W. Duffield
+
+
+It was a long narrow valley where the Pine Tree stood, and perhaps if
+you want to look for it you might find it there today. For pine trees
+live a long time, and this one was not very old.
+
+The valley was quite barren. Nothing grew there but a few scrubby
+bushes; and, to tell the truth, it was about as desolate a place as
+you can well imagine. Far up over it hung the great, snowy caps of the
+Rocky Mountains, where the clouds played hide and seek all day, and
+chased each other merrily across the snow. There was a little stream,
+too, that gathered itself up among the snows and came running down the
+side of the mountain; but for all that the valley was very dreary.
+
+Once in a while there went a large grey rabbit, hopping among the
+sagebushes; but look as far as you could you would find no more
+inhabitants. Poor, solitary little valley, with not even a cottonwood
+down by the stream, and hardly enough grass to furnish three oxen with
+a meal! Poor, barren little valley lying always for half the day in
+the shadow of those tall cliffs--burning under the summer sun, heaped
+high with the winter snows--lying there year after year without a
+friend! Yes, it had two friends, though they could do it but little
+good, for they were two pine trees. The one nearest the mountain,
+hanging quite out of reach in a cleft of the rock, was an old, gnarled
+tree, which had stood there for a hundred years. The other was
+younger, with bright green foliage, summer and winter. It curled up
+the ends of its branches, as if it would like to have you understand
+that it was a very fine, hardy fellow, even if it wasn't as old as its
+father up there in the cleft of the rock.
+
+Now the young Pine Tree grew very lonesome at times, and was glad to
+talk with any persons who came along, and they were few, I can tell
+you. Occasionally, it would look lovingly up to the father pine, and
+wonder if it could make him hear what it said. It would rustle its
+branches and shout by the hour, but the father pine heard him only
+once, and then the words were so mixed with falling snow that it was
+really impossible to say what they meant.
+
+So the Pine Tree was very lonesome and no wonder. "I wish I knew of
+what good I am," he said to the grey rabbit one day. "I wish I
+knew,--I wish I knew," and he rustled his branches until they all
+seemed to say, "Wish I knew--wish I knew."
+
+"O pshaw!" said the rabbit, "I wouldn't concern myself much about
+that. Some day you'll find out."
+
+"But do tell me," persisted the Pine Tree, "of what good you think I
+am."
+
+"Well," answered the rabbit, sitting up on her hind paws and washing
+her face with her front ones, in order that company shouldn't see her
+unless she looked trim and tidy--"well," said the rabbit, "I can't
+exactly say myself what it is. If you don't help one, you help
+another--and that's right enough, isn't it? As for me, I take care of
+my family. I hop around among the sagebushes and get their breakfast
+and dinner and supper. I have plenty to do, I assure you, and you must
+really excuse me now, for I have to be off."
+
+"I wish I was a hare," muttered the Pine Tree to himself, "I think I
+could do some good then, for I should have a family to support, but I
+know I can't now."
+
+Then he called across to the little stream and asked the same question
+of him. And the stream rippled along, and danced in the sunshine, and
+answered him. "I go on errands for the big mountain all day. I carried
+one of your cones not long ago to a point of land twenty miles off,
+and there now is a pine tree that looks just like you. But I must run
+along, I am so busy. I can't tell you of what good you are. You must
+wait and see." And the little stream danced on.
+
+"I wish I were a stream," thought the Pine Tree. "Anything but being
+tied down to this spot for years. That is unfair. The rabbit can run
+around, and so can the stream; but I must stand still forever. I wish
+I were dead."
+
+By and by the summer passed into autumn, and the autumn into winter,
+and the snowflakes began to fall.
+
+"Halloo!" said the first one, all in a flutter, as she dropped on the
+Pine Tree. But he shook her off, and she fell still farther down on
+the ground. The Pine Tree was getting very churlish and cross lately.
+
+However, the snow didn't stop for all that and very soon there was a
+white robe over all the narrow valley. The Pine Tree had no one to
+talk with now. The stream had covered himself in with ice and snow,
+and wasn't to be seen.
+
+The hare had to hop around very industriously to get enough for her
+children to eat; and the sagebushes were always low-minded fellows and
+couldn't begin to keep up a ten-minutes' conversation.
+
+At last there came a solitary figure across the valley, making its way
+straight for the Pine Tree. It was a lame mule, which had been left
+behind from some wagon-train. He dragged himself slowly on till he
+reached the tree. Now the Pine, in shaking off the snow, had shaken
+down some cones as well, and they lay on the snow. These the mule
+picked up and began to eat.
+
+"Heigh ho!" said the tree, "I never knew those things were fit to eat
+before."
+
+"Didn't you?" replied the mule. "Why I have lived on these things, as
+you call them, ever since I left the wagons. I am going back on the
+Oregon Trail, and I sha'n't see you again. Accept my thanks for
+breakfast. Good-bye."
+
+And he moved off to the other end of the valley and disappeared among
+the rocks.
+
+"Well!" exclaimed the Pine Tree. "That's something, at all events."
+And he shook down a number of cones on the snow. He was really happier
+than he had ever been before,--and with good reason, too.
+
+After a while there appeared three people. They were a family of
+Indians,--a father, a mother, and a little child. They, too, went
+straight to the tree.
+
+"We'll stay here," said the father, looking across at the snow-covered
+bed of the stream and up at the Pine Tree. He was very poorly
+clothed, this Indian. He and his wife and the child had on dresses of
+hare-skins, and they possessed nothing more of any account, except bow
+and arrows, and a stick with a net on the end. They had no lodge
+poles, and not even a dog. They were very miserable and hungry. The
+man threw down his bow and arrows not far from the tree. Then he began
+to clear away the snow in a circle and to pull up the sagebushes.
+These he and the woman built into a round, low hut, and then they
+lighted a fire within it. While it was beginning to burn the man went
+to the stream and broke a hole in the ice. Tying a string to his
+arrow, he shot a fish which came up to breathe, and, after putting it
+on the coals, they all ate it half-raw. They never noticed the Pine
+Tree, though he scattered down at least a dozen more cones.
+
+At last night came on, cold and cheerless. The wind blew savagely
+through the valleys, and howled at the Pine Tree, for they were old
+enemies. Oh, it was a bitter night, but finally the morning broke!
+More snow had fallen and heaped up against the hut so that you could
+hardly tell that it was there. The stream had frozen tighter than
+before and the man could not break a hole in the ice again. The
+sagebushes were all hid by the drifts, and the Indians could find none
+to burn.
+
+Then they turned to the Pine Tree. How glad he was to help them! They
+gathered up the cones and roasted the seeds on the fire. They cut
+branches from the tree and burned them, and so kept up the warmth in
+their hut.
+
+The Pine Tree began to find himself useful, and he told the hare so
+one morning when she came along. But she saw the Indian's hut, and did
+not stop to reply. She had put on her winter coat of white, yet the
+Indian had seen her in spite of all her care. He followed her over the
+snow with his net, and caught her among the drifts. Poor Pine Tree!
+She was almost his only friend, and when he saw her eaten and her skin
+taken for the child's mantle, he was very sorrowful, you may be sure.
+He saw that if the Indians stayed there, he, too, would have to die,
+for they would in time burn off all his branches, and use all his
+cones; but he was doing good at last, and he was content.
+
+Day after day passed by,--some bleak, some warm,--and the winter moved
+slowly along. The Indians only went from their hut to the Pine Tree
+now. He gave them fire and food, and the snow was their drink. He was
+smaller than before, for many branches were gone, but he was happier
+than ever.
+
+One day the sun came out more warmly, and it seemed as if spring was
+near. The Indian man broke a hole in the ice, and got more fish. The
+Indian woman caught a rabbit. The Indian child gathered sagebushes
+from under the fast-melting snow and made a hotter fire to cook the
+feast. And they did feast, and then they went away.
+
+The Pine Tree had found out his mission. He had helped to save three
+lives.
+
+In the summer there came along a band of explorers, and one, the
+botanist of the party, stopped beside our Pine Tree:
+
+"This," said he in his big words, "is the Pinus Monophyllus, otherwise
+known as the Bread Pine." He looked at the deserted hut and passed his
+hand over his forehead.
+
+"How strange it is," said he. "This Pine Tree must have kept a whole
+family from cold and starvation last winter. There are very few of us
+who have done as much good as that." And when he went away, he waved
+his hand to the tree and thanked God in his heart that it grew there.
+And the Bread Pine waved his branches in return, and said to himself
+as he gazed after the departing band: "I will never complain again,
+for I have found out what a pleasant thing it is to do good, and I
+know now that every one in his lifetime can do a little of it."
+
+
+
+
+A WONDERFUL WEAVER
+
+
+ There's a wonderful weaver
+ High up in the air,
+ And he weaves a white mantle
+ For cold earth to wear.
+ With the wind for his shuttle,
+ The cloud for his loom,
+ How he weaves, how he weaves,
+ In the light, in the gloom.
+
+ Oh, with finest of laces,
+ He decks bush and tree;
+ On the bare, flinty meadows
+ A cover lays he.
+ Then a quaint cap he places
+ On pillar and post,
+ And he changes the pump
+ To a grim, silent ghost.
+
+ But this wonderful weaver
+ Grows weary at last;
+ And the shuttle lies idle
+ That once flew so fast.
+ Then the sun peeps abroad
+ On the work that is done;
+ And he smiles: "I'll unravel
+ It all, just for fun."
+
+ George Cooper.
+
+
+
+
+THE PINE AND THE FLAX
+
+Albrekt Segerstedt
+
+
+Just where a forest ended grew a pine tree taller and more beautiful
+than all the others in the forest. Far away could be seen its feathery
+round crown, whose soft branches waved so gracefully when the wind
+blew across the plain.
+
+At the foot of the pine tree the fields of grain began.
+
+Here the farmer sowed seeds of many kinds, but the flax was sowed
+nearest the pine. It came up beautiful and even, and the pine thought
+a great deal of the slender green thing.
+
+The flax stalk raised itself higher and higher, and near the close of
+summer it bore a little blue helmet on his head.
+
+"Thou art so beautiful!" said the tall pine.
+
+The flax bowed itself low, but raised again so gracefully that it
+looked like a billowy sea.
+
+The pine and the flax often talked to each other and became great
+friends.
+
+"What folly!" said the other forest trees to the pine. "Do not have
+anything to do with the flax; it is so weak. Choose the tall spruce or
+the birch tree. They are strong."
+
+But the pine would not desert the flax.
+
+The thistle and other small plants talked to the flax.
+
+"You are crazy to think of the lofty pine. It does not trouble itself
+about you. It is tall and proud. Children of a size play best
+together. Think of the bush and vine and content yourself."
+
+"I shall trust the pine," replied the flax. "It is honourable and
+faithful and I am fond of it."
+
+So the pine and the flax remained friends.
+
+Time passed and the flax was pulled up and made into ropes and cloth.
+The pine was felled and its trunk carried to the city. But the pine
+and flax did not forget each other, though neither knew where the
+other was.
+
+A large, beautiful ship was launched upon the water. On this the pine
+tree was erected as a mast, and on the highest part waved a flag.
+
+Then came a great white sail to help the mast carry the proud ship
+forward. It wrapped itself around the mast, spread itself out like a
+great wing, and caught the wind on its wide curve.
+
+The sail had been woven of linen that grew as flax out in the field on
+the edge of the wood. And the two friends had met again.
+
+Clasping each other faithfully, out over the foaming billows they went
+to new lands. It was life, it was pleasure to go on united as friends.
+
+The winds took a message back to the forest.
+
+"Who would have believed it?" said the spruce and the birch.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIR TREE
+
+
+ O singing Wind
+ Searching field and wood,
+ Cans't thou find
+ Aught that's sweet or good--
+ Flowers, to kiss awake,
+ Or dewy grass, to shake,
+ Or feathered seed
+ Aloft to speed?
+
+ Replies the wind:
+ "I cannot find
+ Flowers, to kiss awake,
+ Or dewy grass to shake,
+ Or feathered seed
+ Aloft to speed;
+ Yet I meet
+ Something sweet,
+ When the scented fir,--
+ Balsam-breathing fir--
+ In my flight I stir."
+
+ Edith M. Thomas.
+
+
+
+
+WHY BRUIN HAS A STUMPY TAIL
+
+(Norwegian Legend)
+
+
+Once upon a time a sly fox lived in a deep forest which bordered a
+river. One fine winter day he was lying in the sun near a brush heap
+with his eyes closed, and he was thinking: "It has been several days
+since I had a dainty supper. How I should enjoy a fine large fish this
+evening. I'll slip over to the edge of the forest and watch the
+fishermen as they go home with their day's catch. Perhaps good luck
+will do something for me."
+
+Now one old man had caught a very fine lot of fish of all sizes.
+Indeed, he had so many that he was obliged to hire a cart in which to
+carry them home. He was driving along slowly when suddenly he noticed
+a red fox crouched under the bush near the road. He stopped his horse,
+jumped down from the cart, and carefully crept near the spot where he
+had seen Master Reynard. The fox did not open his eyes nor move a
+muscle.
+
+"Well," said the old fisherman, "I do believe he is dead! What a fine
+coat he has. I will take him home and give him to my wife for a
+present." He lifted the fox and put him into the cart among the fish.
+The old man then mounted to his seat and drove merrily on, thinking
+how pleased his wife would be with the fine fish and the fox. When
+they were well on their way, the sly fox threw one fish after another
+out of the cart until all lay scattered along on the road; then he
+slipped out of the cart.
+
+When the old man reached his cottage, he called out to his wife, "Come
+and see the fine fish I caught to-day. And I have brought you a
+beautiful gift, also."
+
+His wife hurried to the cart and said, "Where are the fish, my
+husband, and where is my present?"
+
+"Why, there in the cart," he replied.
+
+"In the cart!" exclaimed his wife. "Why, there is nothing here;
+neither fish nor present, so far as I can see."
+
+The old man looked and to his great surprise and disappointment he
+discovered that what his wife said was true.
+
+Meanwhile, the sly fox had gathered up the fish and had taken them to
+the forest in order to enjoy a fine supper. Presently he heard a
+pleasant voice saying, "Good evening, Brother Reynard."
+
+He looked up and saw his friend Bruin. "Oh, good evening to you,"
+answered the fox. "I have been fishing to-day, and, as you see, luck
+certainly attended me."
+
+"It did, indeed," answered the bear. "Could you not spare me one fish?
+I should consider the gift a great favor."
+
+"Oh," answered the fox, "why don't you go fishing yourself? I assure
+you when one becomes a fisherman, he thoroughly enjoys the fruits of
+patience."
+
+"Go fishing, my friend," said Bruin, in astonishment. "That is
+impossible. I know nothing about catching fish, I assure you."
+
+"Pooh, it is very easy, especially in the winter time when ice nearly
+covers the river. Let me tell you what to do. Make a hole in the ice
+and stick your tail down into it. Hold it there just as long as you
+can and keep saying, 'Come, little fish; come, big fish.' Don't mind
+if the tail smarts a little; that only means that you have a bite, and
+I assure you the longer you hold it there the more fish you will
+catch. Then all at once, out with your tail. Give a strong pull
+sideways, then upward, and you'll have enough fish to last you several
+days. But mind you, follow my directions closely."
+
+"Oh, my friend, I am very grateful for your kind information," said
+Bruin, and off he went to the river where he proceeded to follow
+Master Fox's directions.
+
+In a short time sly Reynard passed by, and when he saw Bruin patiently
+sitting on the ice with his tail in a hole, he laughed until his sides
+ached. He said, wickedly, under his breath: "A clear sky, a clear sky!
+Bruin's tail will freeze, Bruin's tail will freeze."
+
+"What did you say, my friend?" asked the bear.
+
+"Oh, I was making a wish," replied the fox.
+
+All night long Bruin sat there, fishing patiently. Then he decided to
+go home. How very heavy his tail felt. He thought to himself that all
+the fish in the river must be fastened there. In a little while the
+women of the village came to get water from the river, and when they
+saw the bear, they called out at the top of their voices: "Come, come!
+A bear, a bear! Kill him! Kill him!"
+
+The men came quickly with great sticks in their hands. Poor Bruin gave
+a short pull sideways and his tail snapped off short. He made off to
+the woods as fast as he could go, but to this day he goes about with a
+stumpy tail.
+
+
+
+
+PINES AND FIRS
+
+Mrs. Dyson
+
+
+Pines and firs! Who knows the difference between a pine and a fir!
+These trees are first cousins; they often dwell together in our woods;
+they are evergreen; they have narrow, pointed leaves; and they bear
+cones, and so we often call them all firs, as if they were brothers.
+This may satisfy strangers and passers-by who only turn their heads
+and say: "Ah! a fir wood," but it will not be sufficient for the
+friends of the trees. Pines and firs are as different as oaks and
+beeches; and who would not be ashamed to take a beech for an oak!
+
+A fir is the shape of a church steeple or a spear-head about to cleave
+the sky. The lowermost branches come out in a ring and spread out
+straight and stiff like the spokes of a wheel. Above this whorl is
+another of shorter branches still, and so on, till the top ring is
+quite a little one round a pointed shoot. The little shoots fork out
+on each side of the big branches, and like them are set closely with
+leaves. These shoots do not point up to the sky nor down to the earth;
+they spread out flat, so that the branch looks like a huge fern.
+
+Pines begin to grow like firs; but as they shoot up side by side in
+the woods, their lower branches drop off for want of air and sunshine,
+and their upper branches spread out wider. A fir is a pyramid with a
+pointed top; but a full-grown pine has a flat top, and often a tall,
+bare trunk, so that it looks like a great umbrella. A famous Roman
+writer, Pliny, said that the smoke of a volcano was like a pine tree.
+The smoke shoots up in a great pillar from the mouth of the fiery
+mountain, and then spreads itself out in a black cap.
+
+You have often amused yourselves with finding pictures in the clouds.
+Have you seen a pillar of mist rise up from the horizon, the meeting
+line of the earth and sky, and then lose itself in a soft cloud? The
+country people in some parts of Europe call this cloud-form
+_Abraham's tree_ or _Adam's tree_, because it is so like a pine tree.
+When the clouds break up into the soft, white, fleecy ripples that we
+call a mackerel sky, they say, "We shall have wind, for Adam's tree is
+putting forth leaves."
+
+The pine trees dress themselves in long, blue-green, rounded needles
+set in bundles of two, three, or more, bristling out all round their
+branches; but the fir trees wear short, narrow, flat leaves of a
+yellow-green colour, set singly each one by itself. These fir leaves
+come out all round the stem just as pine leaves do, but they are
+parted down the middle as we sometimes part our hair, so that they
+spread out flat in two thick rows.
+
+Mr. Ruskin calls the pines and firs and their relations the builders
+with the sword, because of their narrow, pointed leaves, and the
+broad-leaved trees he calls the builders with the shield. The trees of
+the sword stand erect on the hills like armed soldiers prepared for
+war; while the trees of the shield spread themselves in the valleys to
+shelter the fields and pastures.
+
+Why do these mountain trees have such narrow leaves? Can you find out
+a reason? Perhaps this is one: when the great, strong wind is raging
+with all his force, he will not suffer any resistance but breaks down
+everything that tries to stay him in his course; if he meets broad
+leaves and heavy branches, he hurls them out of his way, but he just
+whistles through the slender leaves and branches of the pines and
+firs, and scarcely knows they are there.
+
+When you gather the cones in the wood, you may know at once whether
+they have fallen from pine trees or from fir trees. A pine cone looks
+like a single piece of carved solid wood until it opens, and then each
+hard scale shows a thick, square head; but the fir cones are made of
+broad, papery scales, with thin edges laid neatly one over the other.
+
+Now you will never have any difficulty in knowing the pines from the
+firs, even in the far distance--colour, form, dress, fruit, all are
+different.
+
+How is it we make a mistake, and call the Scotch pine by the name of
+Scotch fir? Perhaps it is because this tree is the only one of the
+great pine and fir family that is a real native of Britain. Our
+stay-at-home ancestors who lived above three hundred years ago never
+saw a real fir, and so their one pine had to represent all its
+relations. They knew it perhaps better than we do, for in their days
+there were many forests that have since been cut down to make room for
+houses and gardens and fields.
+
+Sometimes when you have been walking over the moorland you have run to
+gather some bright yellow moss, and have suddenly found your foot
+sinking into wet, black mud, and you have heard stories of men and
+horses sucked down by just such dreadful slime. Hundreds of years ago
+forests stood where now lie these dangerous bogs, and the trees and
+shrubs rotting and decaying in the wet have changed into black, brown
+swamps. Many bogs have been drained, and the trunks of pine trees have
+been found in them standing as they grew. In one bog in Yorkshire pine
+trees were found sawn across and left to lie and rot. Who felled these
+trees which have been lying there hundreds of years? Can we tell? Yes;
+for among the trees are scattered axe-heads and Roman coins, and we
+are able to picture the old story of the place. There was once a
+forest there, and the ancient Britons hid themselves in its shelter,
+and the Romans cut down the trees to drive them from their
+hiding-place.
+
+There are two common kinds of firs which you will find in the woods.
+One is the spruce fir, a very prim and proper tree, with slightly
+curving branches turned up at the tips. It looks as if the branches
+had been all cut to a pattern, and their length and the distances
+between them carefully measured. When you have been washed and brushed
+and pulled and straightened, and had every hair and bow set in its
+proper place, so that you look particularly trim and neat, you
+sometimes laugh and call one another _spruce_, like the spruce fir.
+
+Some people think the name "spruce" means the _pruce_, or Prussian
+tree; others say it means the sprouting tree, the tree that sprouts at
+the ends of its branches. In some countries these bright-green sprouts
+are cut off and made into a kind of beer called spruce beer.
+
+The spruce fir is at home on the high mountains of Europe where it
+often grows one hundred and fifty feet high. You long for the time
+when you will be taken to Switzerland to see the snow-capped Alps.
+Then standing out against the white snow and the glittering ice rivers
+you will see the dark spruce forests. This fir is also at home in
+Norway and the cold lands of the North, and so we call it the Norway
+Spruce to distinguish it from other kinds of spruce fir that grow in
+America. In Norway many old men and women earn a living by gathering
+and selling in the markets pieces of fir for the people to strew on
+the graves as we do flowers.
+
+What sort of cones has the spruce? Can you find some in the fir wood?
+They are five or six inches long and perhaps two inches thick. You
+will see them hanging from the ends of the upper branches, and perhaps
+you may find some empty ones on the ground. Look at them. Those thin
+scales are very different from the tough walls of the pine cone: each
+one is shaped off to a point, and this point is divided into two sharp
+teeth.
+
+Perhaps when you are looking for the cones, you will find growing fast
+to the branches among the leaves some fanciful things that look like
+little cones. These are very gay; every scale has a border of crimson
+velvet and a green spine in the middle of its back, like a little
+tusk. If you open them you will find some brown, soft things inside.
+Do you know what they are? Perhaps, if you have not already made
+friends with the real cone, you will think these are seeds; but some
+of you are growing wise, and know that you have intruded into a little
+nest of insects. If you tie a net round the branch and keep watch, you
+may see them come out. Their mother pierced a hole in a brown bud last
+autumn and laid her eggs there; then when the buds burst in spring the
+lower leaves grew fast together and made this comfortable house, and
+those green tusks you see are the leaf points.
+
+But what is the other kind of fir that grows in our wood? It is rather
+like the spruce in shape, but it is not quite so stiff and prim and
+proper, and underneath each little leaf there are two silver lines,
+and so we call this the silver fir. You may always know it from the
+spruce by these silver lines. Each stiff little leaf has its edges
+rolled under as if ready for hemming, and there is a thick green rib
+down the middle of the under side, so the silver lining just peeps out
+in single streaks between the rib and the hems.
+
+The spring tufts of the Norway spruce are of a bright yellow-green;
+those of the silver fir are paler and softer in tint, more like the
+primrose. When the sulphur butterfly lights on them we lose sight of
+him, so he flits from one to another, feeling quite safe, and keeping
+carefully away from those dark old leaves where he would be pounced
+upon at once.
+
+The silver fir does not let its cones hang down; it holds them proudly
+erect on its branches; like little towers often eight inches high. We
+wonder how such slender twigs can hold up such large cones. They look
+like hairy giants, for their scales do not end in two little teeth,
+but in a long point which turns back and bends downwards.
+
+The silver fir does not like quite such cold places as the spruce and
+the Scotch pine; it dwells lower down the mountain sides, and is at
+home in Central Europe.
+
+All the pines and firs, like the Scotch pine, have those wonderful
+pipes and reservoirs of sticky turpentine juice inside their bark, but
+each kind of fir has its own way of making its stores, and so we get
+different kinds of resin and turpentine and balsams from different
+trees.
+
+It is these stores of resin that make the pine wood burn so brightly.
+The Highland chief needed no gas for his great illuminations; he had
+only to call his followers to hold up branches of blazing pine. It is
+not very wise to light a picnic fire in a pine or fir wood, for
+sometimes a few sparks will set a whole forest in flames.
+
+_Fir_--_fire_: how much alike these two words are! Do you think they
+must have some connection with one another? Were the first fires made
+of fir wood? or was this tree called fir because it made such good
+fires? These words are so old that we can only guess their history.
+
+Those of you who like pretty things have often fingered admiringly
+some bright, shining necklace of amber beads. The pieces of amber
+from which those beads were cut were picked up on the shores of the
+Baltic Sea, and it is supposed that once upon a time some great pines
+or firs dropped their gummy juice and this hardened into these
+beautiful transparent stones.
+
+Pines and firs are some of our greatest tree givers. They seem never
+tired of giving. Can you think of anything that is made of pine or fir
+wood? Perhaps you remember hearing that the seats or panels or
+ceilings in your school or church were of the wood of an American pine
+called the pitch pine. But common fir wood has a name of its own. Who
+has not heard of _deal_? A _deal_ is a part or portion, and so we talk
+of a great deal of something meaning a large portion. Our fir wood
+comes in great quantities from Norway and Germany, where it is first
+cut and sawn into planks. Each plank is a _deal_--that is, a portion
+of the wood. It has been easy to leave out the article and call the
+wood _deal_.
+
+Our white deal comes from the firs, chiefly from the Norway spruce.
+The darker-coloured deal is the gift of the Scotch pine.
+
+How can the great trees be carried from the mountain-tops, do you
+suppose? The streams are the carriers; they float the great trunks
+down to the rivers, where they are tied together in great rafts and
+floated on again to their new home, or to the seaport from which they
+can be shipped to foreign lands. Sometimes when the nearest stream is
+at a long distance from the trees, a wooden slide is made to it. In
+the winter, water is poured down the slide, and when it freezes the
+trees easily shoot down the slippery way to the stream. Oh, what fun
+it must be! You would like to be there to see. In the year 1810, when
+all Europe was at war with the great Emperor Napoleon, the deal
+traffic on the Baltic Sea was stopped. What was to be done? Near the
+Lake of Lucerne there is a high mountain, called Mont Pilate, covered
+with great forests of pine and fir. If these could only be cut down
+and brought to the lake, they could easily be floated down the Rhine
+to the sea. So a tremendous slide was made from Mont Pilate to the
+lake. It was six feet broad, and from three to six feet deep, and
+eight miles long, and twenty-five thousand pine trees were used in
+making it. When water had been poured down and had frozen, the great
+trunks were started one at a time. Away they shot, and reached the
+lake, eight miles off, in six minutes, and in wet weather, when the
+slide was very slippery, they were only three minutes on the way.
+
+Look at the deal planks on the floor of your room. Do you see those
+dark knots? They show you where once branches sprang out of the trunk.
+Many of these decayed and dropped off while quite young, and a little
+store of juice prepared for the branch gathered into the knot and
+turned it brown and dark. You will often find the knots in pairs,
+showing you how the branches grew opposite one another.
+
+These long straight lines in the plank that we call the _grain_ show
+the rings of wood made by the pine tree year by year.
+
+How astonished you would be if suddenly out of that plank a great
+insect were to creep and spread out its wings. This sometimes
+happens, to the alarm of the people in the room, but only when the
+wood is new and has been used too soon, before it was properly dried
+and seasoned. The insect looks very formidable, for it has a long,
+pointed weapon at the end of its body, but it is quite harmless. It is
+called the _giant sirex_, and it looks something like a wasp or
+hornet. With its weapon it pierces holes in the pine tree bark and
+lays its eggs there. The grubs eat great tunnels in the trunk, and
+when they are full grown they creep nearly to the outside, and there
+wait till they are changed and their wings are ready before they creep
+out. Sometimes while they wait the tree is cut down and then they are
+either sawn in two or left inside the plank.
+
+We often see young fir trees in a very strange place, bearing
+wonderful fruit of gold and silver shining lights, and glittering
+toys.
+
+ "The fir tree stood
+ In a beautiful room;
+ A hundred tapers
+ Dispelled the gloom.
+
+ All decked with gold and silver was he,
+ And lilies and roses so fair to see.
+ Hurrah for the fir tree, the Christmas tree;
+ A prince in all the forests is he!
+
+ The little children
+ With merry shout
+ Came crowding, clustering
+ Round about.
+
+ Brighter and rounder grew their eyes,
+ And they gazed at the fir in glad surprise.
+ Hurrah for the fir tree, the Christmas tree;
+ A prince in all the forests is he!"
+
+
+
+
+WHO LOVES THE TREES BEST?
+
+
+ Who loves trees best?
+ "I," said the spring,
+ "Their leaves so beautiful
+ To them I bring."
+
+ Who loves the trees best?
+ "I," summer said,
+ "I give them blossoms,
+ White, yellow, red."
+
+ Who loves the trees best?
+ "I," said the fall,
+ "I give luscious fruits,
+ Bright tints to all!"
+
+ Who loves the trees best?
+ "I love them best,"
+ Harsh winter answered,
+ "I give them rest."
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS EVERYWHERE
+
+
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS SONG
+
+
+ Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night!
+ Christmas in lands of fir tree and pine;
+ Christmas in lands of palm tree and vine,
+ Christmas where snow peaks stand solemn and white;
+ Christmas where cornfields lie sunny and bright;
+ Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night!
+
+ Christmas where children are hopeful and gay;
+ Christmas where old men are patient and grey;
+ Christmas where peace like a dove in its flight,
+ Broods over brave men in the thick of the fight;
+ Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night.
+
+ Phillips Brooks.
+
+
+
+
+THE SHEPHERD MAIDEN'S GIFT
+
+(Eastern Legend)
+
+
+In the quiet midnight, peace brooded over the fields where the
+shepherds were watching their flocks. The tinkling of sheepbells, the
+bleating of lambs, and the barking of watchdogs had gradually ceased.
+Around a large campfire several shepherds lay resting, for they had
+had a long, hard day. Each had beside him a strong shepherd's crook
+and a stout club ready for use in case any lurking danger threatened
+the beloved flocks.
+
+Not far away from the campfire a shepherd maiden lay sleeping in the
+rude shelter of a rocky cave. All day long she had helped her father
+guard the sheep, and when darkness fell over the fields and hills, she
+was glad to lie down in her snug bed made of the fleecy skins of kids
+and lambs.
+
+Suddenly a light filled the cave and wakened the maiden. Thinking it
+was daybreak, she sprang up, stepped to the rude doorway, and pushed
+aside the curtain of goatskin.
+
+"What has happened?" she whispered.
+
+The fields and hills were flooded with light. The group of shepherds
+were standing close together, gazing intently at the luminous eastern
+sky. A moment later she saw them fall on their knees in worship. There
+in the entrance of her rude shelter, she, too, knelt and prayed.
+Clearly she saw the shining angel appear and in the peaceful stillness
+of the night she heard these words:
+
+"Be not afraid; for, behold, I bring good tidings of great joy which
+shall be to all the people: for there is born to you this day, in the
+city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be
+the sign unto you: ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes
+and lying in a manger."
+
+And suddenly there was with the angel many, many others. Together they
+lifted up their voices in praise and sang,
+
+ "Glory to God in the highest,
+ Peace on earth
+ Good will toward men."
+
+When the sweet music died away, the maiden rose to her feet and joined
+the shepherds.
+
+"I saw the angel, Father, and heard the singing," she whispered.
+
+"Christ, the Lord, is born," answered her father.
+
+"Let us hasten to Bethlehem and see the Heavenly Child who fulfills
+the promise of God," said one of the shepherds.
+
+"Shall we leave our flocks?" asked another. But the question was not
+answered.
+
+"Come, let us see what gifts we have to carry to the Christ-child,"
+said the shepherd who first saw the light in the sky.
+
+In a few moments these simple-hearted men were ready to start across
+the fields and over the low hills to Bethlehem. Very humble gifts they
+had to offer, but their hearts were filled with joy and wonder.
+
+Standing near the entrance to the cave the shepherd maiden could see
+the outline of the group of men making their way to the city of David.
+"They are going to see the Christ-child," she said to herself, "a babe
+wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger."
+
+How she would love to see the Heavenly Child! A deep longing to behold
+the little new-born King seized her. She would follow the shepherds to
+Bethlehem. One glimpse at the Christ-child would fill her heart with
+joy.
+
+Away over the star-lit fields and hills she started. Not once did she
+falter, although the way was long and some of the hillsides were hard
+to climb.
+
+Finally, she saw the shepherds pass in the gate of the city of
+Bethlehem.
+
+"I came to see the Christ-child," she said to a group of people who
+stood whispering together. They looked at her in astonishment.
+
+"I am following the shepherds," she added.
+
+"They have gone to the inn," was the answer.
+
+When she reached the inn she was directed to a cave near, which served
+as a stable.
+
+There through the entrance she saw the shepherds lay their humble
+presents at Mary's feet and then kneel in solemn adoration.
+
+"I have brought nothing to offer," whispered the maiden, looking
+wistfully into the rude shelter. "I cannot go in without a gift--a
+little gift for the Christ-child."
+
+Tears of disappointment filled her eyes. Slowly she turned to leave
+the place. But after she had taken a few steps she stopped and burst
+into sobs. How could she go away without a glimpse of the Heavenly
+Child? Then, as she stood weeping, a marvelous thing happened. An
+angel appeared beside her and said:
+
+"Lo, here at thy feet is a gift for the Christ-child."
+
+Then she saw growing near her, slender stems covered with delicate
+green leaves and bearing lovely flowers.
+
+The maiden did not stop to wonder. Here was a gift fit to offer the
+little Saviour. With trembling joy she gathered the Christmas roses
+and stepped lightly into the humble house where the little babe lay
+smiling in his mother's arms. In Mary's lap the maiden laid her gift
+of flowers, and, with radiant face, she knelt and filled her heart
+with the glorious vision.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS GIFTS
+
+Laura E. Richards
+
+
+"Mother," said Jack, "may I have some money to buy Christmas presents
+with?"
+
+"Dear," said his mother, "I have no money. We are very poor, and I can
+hardly buy enough food for us all."
+
+Jack hung his head; if he had not been ten the tears would have come
+to his eyes, but he was ten.
+
+"All the other boys give presents!" he said.
+
+"So shall you!" said his mother. "All presents are not bought with
+money. The best boy that ever lived was as poor as we are, and yet He
+was always giving."
+
+"Who was He," asked Jack; "and what did He give?"
+
+"This is His birthday," said the mother. "He was the good Jesus. He
+was born in a stable, and He lived in a poor working-man's house. He
+never had a penny of His own, yet he gave twelve good gifts every day.
+Would you like to try His way?"
+
+"Yes!" cried Jack.
+
+So his mother told him this and that; and soon after Jack started out,
+dressed in his best suit, to give his presents.
+
+First, he went to Aunt Jane's house. She was old and lame, and she did
+not like boys.
+
+"What do you want?" she asked.
+
+"Merry Christmas!" said Jack. "May I stay for an hour and help you?"
+
+"Humph!" said Aunt Jane. "Want to keep you out of mischief, do they?
+Well, you may bring in some wood."
+
+"Shall I split some kindling, too?" asked Jack.
+
+"If you know how," said Aunt Jane. "I can't have you cutting your foot
+and messing my clean shed all up."
+
+Jack found some fresh pine wood and a bright hatchet, and he split up
+a great pile of kindling and thought it fun. He stacked it neatly, and
+then brought in a pail of fresh water and filled the kettle.
+
+"What else can I do?" he asked. "There are twenty minutes more."
+
+"Humph!" said Aunt Jane. "You might feed the pig."
+
+Jack fed the pig, who thanked him in his own way.
+
+"Ten minutes more!" he said. "What shall I do now?"
+
+"Humph!" said Aunt Jane. "You may sit down and tell me why you came."
+
+"It is a Christmas present!" said Jack. "I am giving hours for
+presents. I had twelve, but I gave one to mother, and another one was
+gone before I knew I had it. This hour was your present."
+
+"Humph!" said Aunt Jane. She hobbled to the cupboard and took out a
+small round pie that smelt very good. "Here!" she said. "This is
+_your_ present, and I thank you for mine. Come again, will you?"
+
+"Indeed I will," said Jack, "and thank you for the pie!"
+
+Next Jack went and read for an hour to old Mr. Green, who was blind.
+He read a book about the sea, and they both liked it very much, so
+the hour went quickly. Then it was time to help mother get dinner, and
+then time to eat it; that took two hours, and Aunt Jane's pie was
+wonderful. Then Jack took the Smith baby for a ride in its carriage,
+as Mrs. Smith was ill, and they met its grandfather, who filled Jack's
+pockets with candy and popcorn and invited him to a Christmas tree
+that night.
+
+Next Jack went to see Willy Brown, who had been ill for a long time
+and could not leave his bed. Willy was very glad to see him; they
+played a game, and then each told the other a story, and before Jack
+knew it the clock struck six.
+
+"Oh!" cried Jack. "You have had two!"
+
+"Two what?" asked Willy.
+
+"Two hours!" said Jack; and he told Willy about the presents he was
+giving. "I am glad I gave you two," he said, "and I would give you
+three, but I must go and help mother."
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Willy. "I thank you very much, Jack. I have had a
+perfectly great time; but I have nothing to give you."
+
+Jack laughed. "Why, don't you see?" he cried; "you have given me just
+the same thing. I have had a great time, too."
+
+"Mother," said Jack, as he was going to bed, "I have had a splendid
+Christmas, but I wish I had had something to give you besides the
+hours."
+
+"My darling," said his mother, "you have given me the best gift of
+all--yourself!"
+
+
+
+
+SILVER BELLS
+
+
+ Across the snow the Silver Bells
+ Come near and yet more near;
+ Each Day and Night, each Night and Day
+ They tinkle soft and clear.
+
+ 'Tis Father Christmas on his way
+ Across the winter Snows;
+ While on his sleigh the Silver Bells
+ Keep chiming as he goes.
+
+ I listen for them in the Night,
+ I listen all the Day,
+ I think these merry Silver Bells
+ Are long, long on the way!
+
+ Hamish Hendry.
+
+
+
+
+THE ANIMALS' CHRISTMAS TREE
+
+John P. Peters
+
+
+Once upon a time the animals decided to have a Christmas tree, and
+this was how it came about: The swifts and the swallows in the
+chimneys in the country houses, awakened from their sleep by joy and
+laughter, had stolen down and peeped in upon scenes of happiness, the
+center of which was always an evergreen tree covered with wonderful
+fruit, bright balls of many colours, and sparkling threads of gold and
+silver, lying like beautiful frost-work among the green fir needles. A
+sweet, fairy-like figure of a Christ Child or an angel rested high
+among the branches, and underneath the tree were dolls and sleds and
+skates and drums and toys of every sort, and furs and gloves and
+tippets, ribbons and handkerchiefs, and all the things that boys and
+girls need and like; and all about this tree were gathered always
+little children with faces--oh! so full of wonderment and expectation,
+changing to radiant, sparkling merriment as toys and candies were
+taken off the tree or from underneath its boughs and distributed among
+them.
+
+The swifts and swallows told their feathered friends all about it, and
+they told others, both birds and animals, until at last it began to be
+rumoured through all the animal world that on one day in the year the
+children of men were made wonderfully happy by means of some sort of
+festival which they held about a fir tree from the forest. Now, of
+course, the tame animals and the house animals, the dogs and the cats
+and the mice, knew something more about this festival. But then, they
+did not exchange visits with the wild animals, because they felt
+themselves above them.
+
+They were always trying to be like men and women, you know, putting on
+airs and pretending to know everything; but, after all, they were
+animals and could not help making friendships now and then with the
+wild creatures, especially when the men and women were not there. And
+when they were asked about the Christmas tree, they told still more
+wonderful stories than the swifts and the swallows from the chimneys
+had told, for some of them had taken part in these festivals, and some
+had even received presents from the tree, just like the children.
+
+They said that the tree was called a Christmas tree, because that
+strange fruit and that wonderful frosting came on it only in the
+Christmas time, and that the Christmas time was the time when men and
+women and little children, too, were always kind and good and loving,
+and gave things to one another; and they said, moreover, that on the
+Christmas tree grew the things which every one wanted, and which would
+make them happy, and that it was so, because in the Christmas time
+everyone was trying to make everyone else happy and to think of what
+other people would like. This they said was what they had seen and
+heard told about Christmas trees. They did not quite understand why it
+was so, but they knew that the Christmas tree, when rightly made,
+brought the Christmas spirit, and they had heard men say that the
+Christmas spirit was the great thing, and that that was what made
+everyone happy.
+
+Well, the long and the short of it was that the animals talked of it
+in their dens and on their roosts, in the fields, and in the forests,
+wild beasts and tame alike--the cows and the horses in their stalls,
+the sheep in their fold, the doves in their cotes and the poultry in
+the poultry-yard, until all agreed that a Christmas tree would be a
+grand thing for the wild and tame alike. Like the men, they, too,
+would have a tree of their very own. But how to do it?
+
+Then the lion called a meeting of all the creatures, wild and tame;
+for you know the lion is king of beasts and when he calls they all
+must come. You know, too, that before and during and after these
+animal congresses there is a royal peace. The lamb can come to the
+meeting and sit down by the wolf, and the wolf dare not touch him; the
+dove may perch on the bough between the hawk and the owl and neither
+will harm him, when the great king of beasts has summoned them all
+together to take counsel. But you know all about the rules of the
+animals, for you have read them in books, and you have seen the
+pictures: how the lion sits on his throne with a crown on one side of
+his head, and all the other creatures gather about--the elephant, and
+giraffe, the hippopotamus, the buffalo, wolves and tigers and
+leopards, foxes and deer, goats and sheep, monkeys and orang-outangs,
+parrots and robins and turkeys and swans and storks and eagles and
+frogs and lizards and alligators, and all the rest besides.
+
+Then, when the lion had called the meeting to order, the swifts and
+the swallows told what they had seen, and a fat little pug-dog, with a
+ribbon and a silver bell about his neck, wheezed out a story of a
+Christmas tree that he had seen, and how a silver bell had grown on
+that tree for him and a whole box of the best sweets he had ever
+dreamed of while he lay comfortably snoozing on his cushion before the
+fire. And a Persian cat, with her hair turned the wrong way, mewed out
+her story of a Christmas tree that she had attended, and told how
+there was a white mouse made of cream cheese for her creeping about
+beneath the branches.
+
+Then the monkeys chattered and the elephants trumpeted, the horses
+neighed, the hyenas laughed, and each in his own way argued for a
+Christmas tree and told what he would do to help make it.
+
+The elephant would go into the forest, and choose the tree and pull it
+up. The buffaloes would drag it in. The giraffe would fix the
+ornaments on the higher limbs, because its neck was long. The monkeys
+would scramble up where the giraffe could not reach. The squirrels
+could run out on the slender twigs and help the monkeys. The birds
+would fly about and get the golden threads and put them on the tree
+with their beaks. The fire-flies would hide themselves among the
+branches and sparkle like diamonds, and the glow-worms promised to
+help the fire-flies by playing candles, if someone would lift them up
+and put them on the branches. The parrots and paroquets and other
+birds of gay plumage would give feathers to hang among the branches,
+and the humming-birds promised to flutter in and out among the twigs,
+and the sheep to give white wool to lie like snow among the boughs.
+
+Then the parrots screeched and the peacocks screamed with delight, and
+you and I never could have told whether anybody voted aye or nay; but
+the lion knew; and the owl, for he was clerk, set it down in the
+minutes, as the lion bade him, that all the birds and beasts would do
+their part. So each planned what he could do. Even the little beetle,
+who makes great balls of earth, thought that if he could only once see
+one of those gay balls that grow on the children's Christmas tree, he
+might make some for the animals' tree. Different birds and beasts told
+of the oranges and apples and holly-berries and who knows what they
+could get and hang upon the tree. You see the animals came from many
+places, and then, too, they could send the carrier pigeons to go and
+bring fruit and berries, and who knows what besides, from oh, so far
+away, because the carrier pigeons can fly through the air no one knows
+how fast or how far.
+
+Well, I cannot tell you everything that each one was going to do, but
+if you will go and get your Noah's ark and take the animals out one by
+one, then you surely will think it out for yourself, for you have all
+the animals there.
+
+And so they arranged how they would ornament the tree, and the next
+thing was to decide what presents should be hung on the tree or put
+beneath its boughs, for each one must have his present. Well, after
+much discussion in roars, and bellows, crows and croaks, lows and
+screams and bleats, and baas and grunts, and all the other sounds of
+birds and beast language, it was voted that each might choose the
+present he wished hung on the tree. The clerkly owl should call their
+names one by one, and each might declare his choice. So they began.
+The parrots and the macaws thought that they would like oranges and
+bananas and such things, which would look so pretty on the tree, too;
+and so they were arranged for. The robins and the cedar birds chose
+cherries; the the partridges, partridge berries, the squirrels, the
+red and grey and black, nuts and apples and pears. The monkeys said
+the popcorn strings would do for them, and the cats and dogs,
+remembering the Christmas gift which the pug-dog and Persian cat had
+told about, asked for tiny mice made of cream cheese or chocolate. By
+and by it came the pig's turn to tell his choice. "Grunt, grunt!" said
+the pig, "I want a nice pail of swill hung on the very lowest bough of
+all."
+
+"Ugh!" said the black leopard, so sleek and so clean.
+
+"Faugh!" said the gazelle, with his dainty sense of smell.
+
+"Neigh!" said the horse, so daintily groomed.
+
+"What!" roared the lion, "what's that you want?"
+
+"A pail of swill," grunted the pig. "Each one has chosen what he
+wants, and I have a right to choose what I want."
+
+"But," roared the lion, "each one has chosen something beautiful to
+make the tree a joy to all."
+
+"Grunt, grunt," said the pig. "The parrots and macaws are going to
+have oranges and bananas, and the robins and the cedar birds red
+cherries, the partridges, their berries, the squirrels, nuts and
+apples and pears, the dog and the cat, their cream and chocolate mice.
+They all have what they want to eat. Grunt, grunt," said he; "I will
+have what I want to eat, too, and what I want is a pail of swill."
+
+Now, you see it had been voted, as I told you, that each should have
+what he wanted hung on the tree for him, and so the lion could not
+help himself. If the pig chose swill, swill he must have, and angrily
+he had to roar: "If the pig wants swill, a pail of swill he must have,
+hung on the lowest bough of the tree!"
+
+Then the wolf's wicked eyes gleamed, for his turn was next, and he
+said: "If the pig has swill because he wants swill to eat, I must have
+what I want to eat, and I want a tender lamb, six months old." And at
+that all the lambs and the sheep bleated and baaed.
+
+"Ha, ha!" barked the fox; "then I want a turkey!" And the turkeys
+gobbled in fear.
+
+"And I," said the tiger, "want a yearling calf." And the cows and the
+calves lowed in horror.
+
+"And I," said the owl, the clerk, "I want a plump dove."
+
+"And I," said the hawk, "will take a rabbit."
+
+"And I," said the leopard, "want a deer or a gazelle."
+
+Then all was fear and uproar. The hares and rabbits scuttled into the
+grass; the gazelles and the deer bounded away; the sheep and the
+cattle crowded close together; the small birds rose in the air in
+flocks; and the Christmas tree was like to have come to grief and
+ended, not in Christmas joy, but in fear and hatred and terror.
+
+Then a little lamb stepped out and bleated: "Ah! king lion, it would
+be very sad if all the animals should lose their Christmas tree, for
+the very thought of that tree has brought us closer together, and here
+we were, wild and tame, fierce and timid, met together as friends; and
+oh! king lion, rather than there should not be a tree, they may take
+me and hang me on it. Let them not take the turkeys and gazelles and
+the calves and the rabbits and all the rest that they have chosen. Let
+the tigers and leopards, and wolves and foxes and eagles, and hawks
+and owls and all their kind be content that their Christmas present
+shall be a lamb; and so we may come together again and have our happy
+Christmas tree, and each have what he wishes."
+
+"But," said the lion, "what will you have? If you give yourself, then
+you will have no Christmas present."
+
+"Yes," said the lamb, "I, too, shall have what I want, for I shall
+have brought them all together again, and made each one happy."
+
+Then a dove fluttered down from a tree and landed on the ground beside
+the lamb, and very timidly and softly she cooed: "Take me, too, king
+lion, as the present for the owls and the hawks, and the weasels and
+minks, because for them a lamb is too big. I am the best present for
+them. Take me, king lion!"
+
+Then the lion roared: "See what the lamb and the dove have done! My
+food, oh, tigers and leopards and wolves and eagles and all your kind,
+is like your food; but I would rather eat nothing from our Christmas
+tree than take this lamb or dove for my present."
+
+Then all the beasts kept still, because the lion roared so loud and
+angrily, and the birds that were flying away settled on the branches
+of the trees, and the gazelles stopped their running and turned their
+heads to listen, and the rabbits peeped out through the grass and
+brush where they had hid. Then the lion turned to the pig, and roared:
+
+"See this lamb and this dove! Are you not ashamed for what you have
+done? You have spoiled all our happiness. Will you take back your
+choice, you pig, or do you wish to ruin our Christmas tree?"
+
+"Grunt, grunt," said the pig, "it is my right. I want something good.
+I don't care for your lambs and your doves. I want my swill!"
+
+Then the lion roared again: "Have all chosen?" and all answered,
+"Yes."
+
+"Then," said the lion, "it is my choice."
+
+And all said: "It is."
+
+"I love fat and tender pigs. I choose a pig for my Christmas gift,"
+roared the lion.
+
+Did you ever hear a pig squeal? Oh, how that pig squealed then! And he
+got up on his fat little legs and tried to run away, but all the
+animals gathered around in a ring and the hyenas laughed, and the
+jackals cried, and the dogs and the wolves and the foxes headed him
+off and hunted the poor pig back again. Then, when the pig found that
+he could not run away, he lay down on his back with his feet in the
+air and squealed with all his might: "Oh, I don't want the swill; oh,
+I don't want the swill! I take it all back! I don't want anything!"
+
+But at first no one heard him, because all were talking at once in
+their own way--barking and growling and roaring and chattering; but by
+and by the lion saw that the pig was squealing something, so he roared
+for silence, and then they all heard the pig squeal out that he did
+not want any swill. And the lion roared aloud: "You have heard. Has
+the owl recorded that the pig will have no swill?"
+
+"Yes," said the owl.
+
+"Then," said the lion, "record that the lion wants no pig."
+
+Then the tiger growled: "And I want no calf," and one by one the
+leopard and the eagle, the wolf and the fox, the hawk and owl, and
+all their kind, took back their votes.
+
+And so it came about that the animals did have a Christmas tree after
+all; but instead of hanging lambs and doves upon the tree, they agreed
+that they could hang little images of lambs and doves, and other birds
+and animals, too, perhaps. And by and by the custom spread until the
+humans came to hang the same little images on their trees, too, and
+when you see a little figure of a lamb or a dove on the Christmas
+tree, you may know that it is all because the lamb and the dove, by
+their unselfishness, saved the animals from strife; for neither
+thought what he wanted from the tree, but each was ready to give
+himself for the others, so that they might not fight and kill one
+another at the Christmas time.
+
+
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS CAROL
+
+
+ The Shepherds had an Angel,
+ The Wise Men had a star,
+ But what have I, a little child,
+ To guide me home from far,
+ Where glad stars sing together
+ And singing angels are?
+
+ Those Shepherds through the lonely night
+ Sat watching by their sheep,
+ Until they saw the heavenly host
+ Who neither tire nor sleep,
+ All singing "Glory, glory,"
+ In festival they keep.
+
+ The Wise Men left their country
+ To journey morn by morn,
+ With gold and frankincense and myrrh,
+ Because the Lord was born:
+ God sent a star to guide them
+ And sent a dream to warn.
+
+ My life is like their journey,
+ Their star is like God's book;
+ I must be like those good Wise Men
+ With heavenward heart and look:
+ But shall I give no gifts to God?--
+ What precious gifts they took!
+
+ Christina Rossetti.
+
+
+
+
+HOLLY
+
+Ada M. Marzials
+
+
+ Highty-tighty, Paradighty,
+ Clothed all in green.
+ The King could not read it
+ No more could the Queen.
+ They sent for a Wise Man out of the East,
+ Who said it had horns but was not a beast.
+
+ (_Old Riddle._)
+
+There was once upon a time a very war-like kingdom where they had
+never heard of Christmas. The men spent all their days fighting, and
+the women spent _their_ days in urging the warriors to further deeds
+of valour.
+
+This had gone on for a very long time, and no one had ever yet said
+that he was tired of it. There was but one person in the whole kingdom
+who had openly declared that war was hateful, but as she was only the
+Youngest Princess nobody paid any heed to her.
+
+Then came a time, just before our Christmas Day, when the King was
+preparing a great campaign against a far-off country. He called
+together his Council of War--grave old warriors, dressed completely in
+armour.
+
+"My friends," said he, "we are about to wage war on the distant
+kingdoms of Zowega. Up till this time the people of that country have
+been our very good friends, but as we have now conquered all our
+enemies, there seems no one but our friends left to fight, and of
+these the King of the Zowegians is chief.
+
+"You will remember that his youngest son, Prince Moldo, spent some of
+his boyhood at our court in order to gain instruction in feats of
+arms, and that the Prince left us to travel over the world. A few
+months ago his father sent word to me that the Prince had returned
+home, bringing with him the news of a Pearl of Great Price, which
+contained the Secret of Happiness. It is this Pearl which I have made
+the excuse for war, for I have demanded it in payment for the
+services that we rendered to Prince Moldo. In my message I have said
+that if the Pearl, and the Secret which it contains, are not brought
+and revealed to us here within the next five days, our troops will
+descend upon the kingdom of Zowega and wipe it off the face of the
+earth."
+
+Loud and long cheered the Council at the speech of their King, as,
+indeed, was their duty, though in their hearts of hearts they had no
+wish to fight against the King of the Zowegians, who was their very
+good friend. The Queen and the Princesses smiled graciously upon them,
+all save the Youngest Princess, who had been Prince Moldo's
+playfellow. She disgraced herself by bursting into passionate tears,
+and was forthwith ordered out of the Council Hall.
+
+At the end of five days the Council once more assembled to await the
+arrival of the messenger with the answer from the King of Zowega.
+
+The day was bright and cold, and there was snow on the ground. The
+King and Queen were wrapped in thick fur cloaks. The Princesses were
+all assembled, too, even the Youngest, who was dressed in ermine and
+looked as pale as death.
+
+It was Christmas Eve, but there were no Christmas trees preparing and
+no presents. No one was thinking of hanging his stockings up. The Hall
+was not decorated, neither were the churches; indeed, there were no
+churches to decorate, for, as you remember, the people in this kingdom
+knew nothing about Christmas.
+
+The Council sat and waited in the big bare Hall.
+
+At last the great doors were flung open, there was a blast of
+trumpets, and the messenger appeared.
+
+He was tall and fair, and held himself proudly. His eyes were bright
+and shining and there was a smile upon his face. He was completely
+dressed in bright green and the Council noted with astonishment that
+he was without armour of any kind. He wore neither breastplate, shield
+nor helmet; he had neither sword by his side, nor spurs on his feet.
+He was bare-headed, and in his right hand he carried something green,
+horny and prickly, with little red dots on it.
+
+Looking neither to the right nor to the left, he walked with firm and
+steady step up the long Hall between the rows of armed warriors.
+
+As he passed the Youngest Princess she blushed deeply, but he did not
+seem to notice her.
+
+When he reached the throne he bowed low before the King and Queen, and
+laid the prickly object on the table before them.
+
+"Your Majesty," said he in a clear, ringing voice. "From the King of
+Zowega, greeting! He sends you this token. It is the symbol of the
+Secret of Happiness."
+
+The King stared, so did the Queen.
+
+They had expected a Pearl of Great Price, accompanied by a scroll on
+which was written the Secret of Happiness, and the King of Zowega had
+sent them _this_!
+
+Amid dead silence the King took the token up in his hands in order to
+examine it more carefully.
+
+He dropped it hastily, for it pricked him, and little drops of blood
+were seen starting from his hand.
+
+"Highty-tighty!" said he. "'Tis surely some kind of beast and a symbol
+of war, for it pricked me right smartly. Truly the King of Zowega
+deals in riddles which I for one cannot read! Take it, my dear," added
+he to the Queen and pointing to the token; "perchance your quick wits
+may be able to understand this mystery."
+
+She picked up the token and examined it carefully.
+
+It rather resembled the branch of a tree, but the leaves were thick
+and resisting and edged with very sharp spikes, and there was on it a
+cluster of round, bright red objects like tiny balls. But even as it
+had pricked the King so did it prick her, and she dropped it hastily
+into the lap of the Eldest Princess, who was sitting beside her.
+
+"Paradighty!" exclaimed the Queen in her own language. "It is
+certainly a beast. See, it has horns!" and she pointed to the spikes.
+
+"But I certainly cannot read the riddle--if riddle it be."
+
+Then it was passed to all the Princesses in turn, but they could not
+read the token any more than could the King and Queen. At last it
+reached the Youngest Princess, and, though it pricked her little hands
+sorely, she took it up tenderly and kissed it.
+
+"'Tis a token of love," said she.
+
+The messenger turned his shining eyes full upon her.
+
+"The Princess has read the riddle of the token aright," said he, and
+he stepped forward as though to kiss her hand.
+
+"Stay!" said the King imperiously springing to his feet. "A token of
+love, forsooth! But I sent the King of Zowega a Declaration of War!
+What does he mean by sending me a token of love? The Princess must
+certainly be mistaken--and as for _you_," he continued, turning
+fiercely to the messenger, "you shall be marched off to prison until
+we have had time to consult with our Wise Men as to the real meaning
+of this extraordinary token."
+
+So there and then the messenger was marched off to spend the night in
+prison, and all the Wise Men in the kingdom were bidden to appear in
+the Council Chamber the very next day, especially one very old Wise
+Man from the East who was reputed to be wiser than all the others put
+together.
+
+The next day, of course, was Christmas Day, but, as these people had
+never heard of Christmas, there were no bells ringing, no carols were
+sung, and there was neither holly, ivy nor mistletoe upon the walls.
+
+Slowly and painfully the Wise Men began to arrive.
+
+They were all dressed alike, in black flowing robes, and on their
+heads they wore long pointed black caps covered with weird devices.
+
+The very old Wise Man from the East wore a red pointed cap, but in all
+other respects was dressed just like the others.
+
+They assembled round a large circular table at one end of the Hall. In
+the middle of the table was placed the token.
+
+At the other end of the Hall were gathered the warriors, and above
+them on a double throne sat the King and Queen with the Princesses
+grouped on either side of the dais.
+
+The Wise Men examined the token in silence.
+
+"'Tis a curious beast," said one of them at last.
+
+"Of a new and quite unheard-of species," said another.
+
+"It has neither legs nor tail," said a third.
+
+"Yet it has a number of globular red eyes," said a fourth.
+
+"And it certainly has horns," said a fifth.
+
+And so said they all, until it came to the turn of the very old Wise
+Man from the East.
+
+He looked long at the token.
+
+"It has horns," said he at last, "but it is not a beast."
+
+"Not a beast!" said they, one to the other.
+
+"But what is it then?"
+
+"It is a token of love," said he.
+
+"Highty-tighty," interrupted the King. "Read us then the full meaning
+of the token."
+
+"I cannot," said the very old Wise Man; "but let the youth be brought
+hither who carried it. He will be able to explain it more fully than
+I."
+
+"Paradighty!" said the Queen in her own language. "Why did we not
+think of that before! Fetch him back again at once!"
+
+So two of the warriors fetched the youth from prison, and he was soon
+standing before the Assembly, with his head held as high and his eyes
+as bright and shining as before.
+
+"Read us the token!" commanded the King.
+
+The youth bowed low. "The Princess read it aright yesterday. It is a
+token of love."
+
+"Explain yourself!" said the King. "How can a beast with horns be a
+token of love?"
+
+The youth drew himself up to his full height.
+
+"It is not a beast," said he. "It is the branch of a holly-tree. On
+this day of the year, which in my country we call Christmas Day, our
+people decorate their houses with branches of this holly or holy tree
+as a token of love and peace and good-will. This is the message that I
+have brought to you--a message that we in our country know very well,
+but which you have never heard before."
+
+The King and the Warriors, the Wise Men, the Queen and Princesses all
+listened to his words in silence.
+
+When he had ended there was a long pause.
+
+"And in what particular way does your message affect us?" said the
+King at last.
+
+"Thus, your Majesty," answered the youth, approaching the Youngest
+Princess and taking both her hands in his, "on this day I, Prince
+Moldo, would have peace and good-will between my kingdom and your
+kingdom; and I would seal it for ever by taking the Youngest Princess
+home with me as my bride. You, O King, recognized me not, for I have
+much changed since I lived here with her for playfellow, but in all my
+wanderings I found a Pearl of no greater price than this, and I would
+proclaim to all the world that the Secret of Happiness is Love."
+
+So on that very Christmas Day they were married, amid great
+rejoicings, and war ceased throughout the kingdom. And on every
+Christmas Day for ever after, the people of that country decorated
+their houses with holly, the symbol of love and peace and good-will,
+and wished each other a Merry Christmas, even as I do now to you.
+
+
+
+
+THE WILLOW MAN
+
+
+ There once was a Willow, and he was very old,
+ And all his leaves fell off from him, and left him in the cold;
+ But ere the rude winter could buffet him with snow,
+ There grew upon his hoary head a crop of Mistletoe.
+
+ All wrinkled and furrowed was this old Willow's skin
+ His taper fingers trembled, and his arms were very thin;
+ Two round eyes and hollow, that stared but did not see,
+ And sprawling feet that never walked, had this most ancient tree.
+
+ A Dame who dwelt a-near was the only one who knew
+ That every year upon his head the Christmas berries grew;
+ And when the Dame cut them, she said--it was her whim--
+ "A merry Christmas to you, Sir," _and left a bit for him_.
+
+ "Oh, Granny dear, tell us," the children cried, "where we
+ May find the shining mistletoe that grows upon the tree?"
+ At length the Dame told them, but cautioned them to mind
+ To greet the willow civilly, _and leave a bit behind_.
+
+ "Who cares," said the children, "for this old Willow-man?
+ We'll take the Mistletoe, and he may catch us if he can."
+ With rage the ancient Willow shakes in every limb,
+ For they have taken all, and _have not left a bit for him_.
+
+ Then bright gleamed the holly, the Christmas berries shone
+ But in the wintry wind, without the Willow-man did moan:
+ "Ungrateful, and wasteful! the mystic Mistletoe
+ A hundred years hath grown on me, but never more shall grow."
+
+ A year soon passed by, and the children came once more,
+ But not a sprig of Mistletoe the aged Willow bore.
+ Each slender spray pointed; he mocked them in his glee,
+ And chuckled in his wooden heart, that ancient Willow-tree.
+
+ O children, who gather the spoils of wood and wold,
+ From selfish greed and wilful waste your little hands withhold.
+ Though fair things be common, this moral bear in mind,
+ "Pick thankfully and modestly, _and leave a bit behind_."
+
+ Juliana Horatia Ewing.
+
+
+
+
+THE IVY GREEN
+
+
+ Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
+ That creepeth o'er ruins old!
+ Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,
+ In his cell so lone and cold.
+ The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed
+ To pleasure his dainty whim;
+ And the mouldering dust that years have made,
+ Is a merry meal for him.
+ Creeping where no life is seen,
+ A rare old plant is the ivy green.
+
+ Charles Dickens.
+
+
+
+
+LEGEND OF SAINT NICHOLAS
+
+Amy Steedman
+
+
+Of all the saints that little children love is there any to compare
+with Santa Claus? The very sound of his name has magic in it, and
+calls up visions of well-filled stockings, with the presents we
+particularly want peeping over the top, or hanging out at the side,
+too big to go into the largest sock. Besides, there is something so
+mysterious and exciting about Santa Claus, for no one seems to have
+ever seen him. But we picture him to ourselves as an old man with a
+white beard, whose favourite way of coming into our rooms is down the
+chimney, bringing gifts for the good children and punishments for the
+bad.
+
+Yet this Santa Claus, in whose name the presents come to us at
+Christmas time, is a very real saint, and we can learn a great deal
+about him, only we must remember that his true name is Saint
+Nicholas. Perhaps the little children, who used to talk of him long
+ago, found Saint Nicholas too difficult to say, and so called him
+their dear Santa Claus. But we learn, as we grow older, that Nicholas
+is his true name, and that he is a real person who lived long years
+ago, far away in the East.
+
+The father and mother of Nicholas were noble and very rich, but what
+they wanted most of all was to have a son. They were Christians, so
+they prayed to God for many years that He would give them their
+hearts' desire; and when at last Nicholas was born, they were the
+happiest people in the world.
+
+They thought there was no one like their boy; and indeed, he was wiser
+and better than most children, and never gave them a moment's trouble.
+But alas, while he was still a child, a terrible plague swept over the
+country, and his father and mother died, leaving him quite alone.
+
+All the great riches which his father had possessed were left to
+Nicholas, and among other things he inherited three bars of gold.
+These golden bars were his greatest treasure, and he thought more of
+them than all the other riches he possessed.
+
+Now in the town where Nicholas lived there dwelt a nobleman with three
+daughters. They had once been very rich, but great misfortunes had
+overtaken the father, and now they were all so poor they had scarcely
+enough to live upon.
+
+At last a day came when there was not even bread enough to eat, and
+the daughters said to their father:
+
+"Let us go into the streets and beg, or do anything to get a little
+money, that we may not starve."
+
+But the father answered:
+
+"Not to-night. I cannot bear to think of it. Wait at least until
+to-morrow. Something may happen to save my daughters from such
+disgrace."
+
+Now, just as they were talking together, Nicholas happened to be
+passing, and as the window was open he heard all that the poor father
+said. It seemed terrible to think that a noble family should be so
+poor and actually in want of bread, and Nicholas tried to plan how it
+would be possible to help them. He knew they would be much too proud
+to take money from him, so he had to think of some other way. Then he
+remembered his golden bars, and that very night he took one of them
+and went secretly to the nobleman's house, hoping to give the treasure
+without letting the father or daughters know who brought it.
+
+To his joy Nicholas discovered that a little window had been left
+open, and by standing on tiptoe he could reach it. So he lifted the
+golden bar and slipped it through the window, never waiting to hear
+what became of it, in case any one should see him. (And now do you see
+the reason why the visits of Santa Claus are so mysterious?)
+
+Inside the house the poor father sat sorrowfully watching, while his
+children slept. He wondered if there was any hope for them anywhere,
+and he prayed earnestly that heaven would send help. Suddenly
+something fell at his feet, and to his amazement and joy, he found it
+was a bar of pure gold.
+
+"My child," he cried, as he showed his eldest daughter the shining
+gold, "God has heard my prayer and has sent this from heaven. Now we
+shall have enough and to spare. Call your sisters that we may rejoice
+together, and I will go instantly and change this treasure."
+
+The precious golden bar was soon sold to a money-changer, who gave so
+much for it that the family were able to live in comfort and have all
+that they needed. And not only was there enough to live upon, but so
+much was over that the father gave his eldest daughter a large dowry,
+and very soon she was happily married.
+
+When Nicholas saw how much happiness his golden bar had brought to the
+poor nobleman he determined that the second daughter should have a
+dowry too. So he went as before and found the little window again
+open, and was able to throw in the second golden bar as he had done
+the first. This time the father was dreaming happily, and did not find
+the treasure until he awoke in the morning. Soon afterwards the second
+daughter had her dowry and was married too.
+
+The father now began to think that, after all, it was not usual for
+golden bars to fall from heaven, and he wondered if by any chance
+human hands had placed them in his room. The more he thought of it the
+stranger it seemed, and he made up his mind to keep watch every night,
+in case another golden bar should be sent as a portion for his
+youngest daughter.
+
+And so when Nicholas went the third time and dropped the last bar
+through the little window, the father came quickly out, and before
+Nicholas had time to hide, caught him by his cloak.
+
+"O Nicholas," he cried, "is it thou who hast helped us in our need?
+Why didst thou hide thyself?" And then he fell on his knees and began
+to kiss the hands that had helped him so graciously.
+
+But Nicholas bade him stand up and give thanks to God instead, warning
+him to tell no one the story of the golden bars.
+
+This was only one of the many kind acts Nicholas loved to do, and it
+was no wonder that he was beloved by all who knew him.
+
+Soon afterwards Nicholas made up his mind to enter God's service as a
+priest. He longed above all things to leave the world and live as a
+hermit in the desert, but God came to him in a vision and told him he
+must stay in the crowded cities and do his work among the people.
+Still his desire to see the deserts and the hermits who lived there
+was so great that he went off on a journey to Egypt and the Holy Land.
+But remembering what God had bade him do he did not stay there but
+returned to his own country.
+
+On the way home a terrific storm arose, and it seemed as if the ship
+he was in must be lost. The sailors could do nothing, and great waves
+dashed over the deck, filling the ship with water. But just as all had
+given up hope, Nicholas knelt and prayed to God to save them, and
+immediately a calm fell upon the angry sea. The winds sank to rest and
+the waves ceased to lash the sides of the ship so that they sailed
+smoothly on, and all danger passed.
+
+Thus Nicholas returned home in safety, and went to live in the city of
+Myra. His ways were so quiet and humble that no one knew much about
+him, until it came to pass one day that the Archbishop of Myra died.
+Then all the priests met to choose another archbishop, and it was made
+known to them by a sign from heaven that the first man who should
+enter the church next morning should be the bishop whom God had
+chosen.
+
+Now Nicholas used to spend most of his nights in prayer and always
+went very early to church, so next morning just as the sun was rising
+and the bells began to ring for the early mass, he was seen coming up
+to the church door and was the first to enter. As he knelt down
+quietly to say his prayers as usual, what was his surprise to meet a
+company of priests who hailed him as their new archbishop, chosen by
+God to be their leader and guide. So Nicholas was made Archbishop of
+Myra to the joy of all in the city who knew and loved him.
+
+Not long after this there was great trouble in the town of Myra, for
+the harvests of that country had failed and a terrible famine swept
+over the land. Nicholas, as a good bishop should, felt the suffering
+of his people as if it were his own, and did all he could to help
+them.
+
+He knew that they must have corn or they would die, so he went to the
+harbour where two ships lay filled with grain, and asked the captains
+if they would sell him their cargo. They told the bishop they would
+willingly do so, but it was already sold to merchants of another
+country and they dared not sell it over again.
+
+"Take no thought of that," said Nicholas, "only sell me some of thy
+corn for my starving people, and I promise thee that there shall be
+nought wanting when thou shalt arrive at thy journey's end."
+
+The captains believed in the bishop's promise and gave him as much
+corn as he asked. And behold! when they came to deliver their cargo to
+the owners, there was not a bag lacking.
+
+There are many stories told about the good bishop. Like his Master, he
+ever went about doing good; and when he died, there were a great many
+legends told about him, for the people loved to believe that their
+bishop still cared for them and would come to their aid. We do not
+know if all these legends are true, but they show how much Saint
+Nicholas was loved and honoured even after his death, and how every
+one believed in his power to help them.
+
+Here is one of the stories which all children who love Saint Nicholas
+will like to hear.
+
+There was once a nobleman who had no children and who longed for a son
+above everything else in the world. Night and day he prayed to Saint
+Nicholas that he would grant him his request, and at last a son was
+born. He was a beautiful child, and the father was so delighted and so
+grateful to the saint who had listened to his prayers that, every year
+on the child's birthday, he made a great feast in honour of Saint
+Nicholas and a grand service was held in the church.
+
+Now the Evil One grew angry each year when this happened, for it made
+many people go to church and honour the good saint, neither of which
+things pleased the Evil One at all. So each year he tried to think of
+some plan that would put an end to these rejoicings, and he decided
+at last that if only he could do some evil to the child the parents
+would blame Saint Nicholas and all would be well.
+
+It happened just then to be the boy's sixth birthday and a greater
+feast than ever was being held. It was late in the afternoon, and the
+gardener and porter and all the servants were away keeping holiday,
+too. So no one noticed a curious-looking pilgrim who came and sat
+close to the great iron gates which led into the courtyard. He had on
+the ordinary robe of a poor pilgrim, but the hood was drawn so far
+over his face that nothing but a dark shadow could be seen inside. And
+indeed that was as well, for this pilgrim was a demon in disguise, and
+his wicked, black face would have frightened any one who saw it. He
+could not enter the courtyard for the great gates were always kept
+locked, and, as you know, the porter was away that day, feasting with
+all the other servants.
+
+But, before very long, the little boy grew weary of his birthday
+feast, and, having had all he wanted he begged to be allowed to go to
+play in the garden. His parents knew that the gardener always looked
+after him there, so they told him he might go. They forgot that the
+gardener was not there just then.
+
+The child played happily alone for some time and then wandered into
+the courtyard, and looking out of the gate saw a poor pilgrim resting
+there.
+
+"What are you doing here?" asked the child, "and why do you sit so
+still?"
+
+"I am a poor pilgrim," answered the demon, trying to make his harsh
+voice sound as gentle as possible, "and I have come all the way from
+Rome. I am resting here because I am so weary and footsore and have
+had nothing to eat all day."
+
+"I will let you in, and take you to my father," said the child; "this
+is my birthday, and no one must go hungry to-day."
+
+But the demon pretended he was too weak to walk, and begged the boy to
+bring some food out to him.
+
+Then the child ran back to the banquet hall in a great hurry and said
+to his father:
+
+"O father, there is a poor pilgrim from Rome sitting outside our gate,
+and he is so hungry, may I take him some of my birthday feast?"
+
+The father was very pleased to think that his little son should care
+for the poor and wish to be kind, so he willingly gave his permission
+and told one of the servants to give the child all that he wanted.
+
+Then as the demon sat eating the good things he began to question the
+boy and tried to find out all that he could about him.
+
+"Do you often play in the garden?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, yes," said the child. "I play there whenever I may, for in the
+midst of the lawn there is a beautiful fountain, and the gardener
+makes me boats to sail on the water."
+
+"Will he make you one to-day?" asked the demon quickly.
+
+"He is not here to-day," answered the child, "for this is a holiday
+for every one and I am quite alone."
+
+Then the demon rose to his feet slowly and said he felt so much better
+after the good food that he thought he could walk a little and would
+like very much to come in and see the beautiful garden and the
+fountain he had heard about.
+
+So the child climbed up and with great difficulty drew back the bolts.
+The great gates swung open and the demon walked in.
+
+As they went along together towards the fountain the child held out
+his little hand to lead the pilgrim, but even the demon shrunk from
+touching anything so pure and innocent, and folded his arms under his
+robe, so that the child could only hold by a fold of his cloak.
+
+"What strange kind of feet you have," said the child as they walked
+along; "they look as if they belonged to an animal."
+
+"Yes, they are curious," said the demon, "but it is just the way they
+are made."
+
+Then the child began to notice the demon's hands, which were even more
+curious than his feet, and just like paws of a bear. But he was too
+courteous to say anything about them, when he had already mentioned
+the feet.
+
+Just then they came to the fountain, and with a sudden movement the
+demon threw back his hood and showed his dreadful face. And before
+the child could scream he was seized by those hairy hands and thrown
+into the water.
+
+But just at that moment the gardener was returning to his work and saw
+from a distance what had happened. He ran as fast as he could, but he
+only got to the fountain in time to see the demon vanish, while the
+child's body was floating on the water. Very quickly he drew him out,
+and carried him, all dripping wet, up to the castle, where they tried
+to bring him back to life. But, alas! it all seemed of no use; he
+neither moved nor breathed, and the day that had begun with such
+rejoicing, ended in the bitterest woe. The poor parents were
+heart-broken, but they did not quite lose hope and prayed earnestly to
+Saint Nicholas who had given them the child, that he would restore
+their boy to them again.
+
+As they prayed by the side of the little bed where the body of the
+child lay, they thought something moved, and to their joy and surprise
+the boy opened his eyes and sat up, and in a short time was as well
+as ever.
+
+They asked him eagerly what had happened, and he told them all about
+the pilgrim with the queer feet and hands, who had gone with him to
+the fountain and had then thrown back his hood and shown his terrible
+face. After that he could remember nothing until he found himself in a
+beautiful garden, where the loveliest flowers grew. There were lilies
+like white stars, and roses far more beautiful than any he had ever
+seen in his own garden, and the leaves of the trees shone like silver
+and gold. It was all so beautiful that for a while he forgot his home,
+and when he did remember and tried to find his way back, he grew
+bewildered and did not know in what direction to turn. As he was
+looking about, an old man came down the garden path and smiled so
+kindly upon him that he trusted him at once. This old man was dressed
+in the robes of a bishop, and had a long white beard and the sweetest
+old face the child had ever seen.
+
+"Art thou searching for the way home?" the old man asked. "Dost thou
+wish to leave this beautiful garden and go back to thy father and
+mother?"
+
+"I want to go home," said the child, with a sob in his voice, "but I
+cannot find the way, and I am, oh, so tired of searching for it."
+
+Then the old man stooped down and lifted him in his arms, and the
+child laid his head on the old man's shoulder, and, weary with his
+wandering, fell fast asleep and remembered nothing more till he woke
+up in his own little bed.
+
+Then the parents knew that Saint Nicholas had heard their prayers and
+had gone to fetch the child from the Heavenly Garden and brought him
+back to them.
+
+So they were more grateful to the good saint than ever, and they loved
+and honoured him even more than they had done before; which was all
+the reward the demon got for his wicked doings.
+
+That is one of the many stories told after the death of Saint
+Nicholas, and it ever helped and comforted his people to think that,
+though they could no longer see him he would love and protect them
+still.
+
+Young maidens in need of help remembered the story of the golden bars
+and felt sure the good saint would not let them want. Sailors tossing
+on the stormy waves thought of that storm which had sunk to rest at
+the prayer of Saint Nicholas. Poor prisoners with no one to take their
+part were comforted by the thought of those other prisoners whom he
+had saved. And little children perhaps have remembered him most of
+all, for when the happy Christmas time draws near, who is so much in
+their thoughts as Saint Nicholas, or Santa Claus, as they call him?
+Perhaps they are a little inclined to think of him as some good
+magician who comes to fill their stockings with gifts, but they should
+never forget that he was the kind bishop who, in olden days, loved to
+make the little ones happy. There are some who think that even now he
+watches over and protects little children, and for that reason he is
+called their patron saint.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS BELLS
+
+
+ I heard the bells on Christmas Day
+ Their old, familiar carols play,
+ And wild and sweet
+ The words repeat
+ Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
+
+ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
+
+
+
+
+A NIGHT WITH SANTA CLAUS
+
+Anna R. Annan
+
+
+Not very long ago, and not far from here, lived a little boy named
+Bobby Morgan. Now I must tell at once how Bobby looked, else how will
+you know him if you meet him in the street? Blue-eyed was Rob, and
+fair-haired, and pug-nosed--just the sweetest trifle, his mother said.
+
+Well, the day before Christmas, Rob thought it would be a fine thing
+to run down Main Street and see what was going on. After dinner his
+mother put on his fur cap and bright scarf, and filled his pockets
+with crackers and cookies. She told him to be very polite to Santa
+Claus if he should happen to meet him.
+
+Off he trotted, merry as a cricket, with now a skip and now a slide.
+At every corner he held his breath, half expecting to run into Santa
+himself. Nothing of the sort happened, however, and he soon found
+himself before the gay windows of a toy shop.
+
+There he saw a spring hobby-horse, as large as a Shetland pony, all
+saddled and bridled, too,--lacking nothing but a rider. Rob pressed
+his nose against the glass, and tried to imagine the feelings of a boy
+in that saddle. He must have stood there all day, had not a ragged
+little fellow pulled his coat. "Wouldn't you jist like that popgun?"
+he piped.
+
+"Catch me looking at popguns!" said Rob shortly. But when he saw how
+tattered the boy's jacket was he said more softly, "P'r'raps you'd
+like a cooky."
+
+"Try me wunst!" said the shrill little voice.
+
+There was a queer lump in Rob's throat as he emptied one pocket of its
+cakes and thrust them into the dirty, eager hands. Then he marched
+down the street without so much as glancing at that glorious steed
+again.
+
+Brighter and brighter grew the windows, more and more full of toys. At
+last our boy stood, with open eyes and mouth, before a great store
+lighted from top to bottom, for it was growing dark. Rob came near
+taking off his cap and saying, "How do you do, sir?"
+
+To whom, you ask. Why, to an image of Santa Claus, the size of life,
+holding a Christmas tree filled with wonderful fruit.
+
+Soon a happy thought struck Rob. "Surely this must be Santa Claus's
+own store, where he comes to fill his basket with toys! What if I were
+to hide there and wait for him?"
+
+As I said, he was a brave little chap, and he walked straight into the
+store with the stream of big people. Everybody was busy. No one had
+time to look at our mite of a Rob. He tried in vain to find a quiet
+corner, till he caught sight of some winding stairs that led up to the
+next story. He crept up, scarcely daring to breathe.
+
+What a fairyland! Toys everywhere! Oceans of toys! Nothing but toys,
+excepting one happy little boy. Think of fifty great rocking-horses in
+a pile; of whole flocks of woolly sheep and curly dogs with the real
+bark in them; stacks of drums; regiments of soldiers armed to the
+teeth; companies of firemen drawing their hose carts; no end of
+wheelbarrows and velocipedes!
+
+Rob screwed his knuckles into his eyes, as a gentle hint that they had
+better not play him any tricks, and then stared with might and main.
+
+Suddenly Rob thought he heard a footstep on the stairs. Fearing to be
+caught, he hid behind a baby-wagon. No one came, however, and as he
+felt rather hungry, he took out the remaining cakes and had a fine
+supper.
+
+Why didn't Santa Claus come?
+
+Rob was really getting sleepy. He stretched out his tired legs, and,
+turning one of the woolly sheep on its side, pillowed his curly head
+upon it. It was so nice to lie there, looking up at the ceiling hung
+with toys, and with the faint hum of voices in his ears. The blue eyes
+grew more and more heavy. Rob was fast asleep.
+
+Midnight! The bells rang loud and clear, as if they had great news to
+tell the world. What noise is that besides the bells? And look, oh,
+look! Who is that striding up the room with a great basket on his
+back? He has stolen his coat from a polar bear, and his cap, too, I
+declare! His boots are of red leather and reach to his knees. His coat
+and cap are trimmed with wreaths of holly, bright with scarlet
+berries.
+
+Good sir, let us see your face--why! that is the best part of him,--so
+round, and so ruddy, such twinkling eyes, and such a merry look about
+those dimples! But see his long white beard; can he be old?
+
+Oh, very, very old. Over nineteen hundred years. Is that not a long
+life, little ones? But he has a young heart, this dear old man, and a
+kind one. Can you guess his name? "Hurrah for Santa Claus!" Right--the
+very one.
+
+He put his basket down near Robby, and with his back turned to him
+shook the snow from his fur coat. Some of the flakes fell on Rob's
+face and roused him from his sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw the white
+figure, but did not stir nor cry out, lest the vision should vanish.
+
+But bless his big heart! He had no idea of vanishing till his night's
+work was done. He took a large book from his pocket, opened to the
+first page, and looked at it very closely.
+
+"Tommy Turner," was written at the top, and just below was a little
+map--yes, there was Tommy's heart mapped out like a country. Part of
+the land was marked good, part of it bad. Here and there were little
+flags to point out places where battles had been fought during the
+year. Some of them were black and some white; wherever a good feeling
+had won the fight there was a white one.
+
+"Tommy Turner," said Santa Claus aloud, "six white flags, three black
+ones. That leaves only three presents for Tommy; but we must see what
+can be done for him."
+
+So he bustled among the toys, and soon had a ball, a horse, and a
+Noah's ark tied up in a parcel, which he tossed into the basket.
+
+Name after name was read off, some of them belonging to Rob's
+playmates, and you may be sure that the little boy listened with his
+heart in his mouth.
+
+"Robby Morgan!" said Santa Claus.
+
+In his excitement that small lad nearly upset the cart, but Santa did
+not notice it.
+
+"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven"--Rob's breath came very
+short--"whites!"
+
+He almost clapped his hands.
+
+"One, two, three, blacks! Now I wonder what that little chap would
+like--here's a drum, a box of tools, a knife, a menagerie. If he
+hadn't run away from school that day and then told a lie about it I'd
+give him a rocking-horse."
+
+Rob groaned in anguish of spirit.
+
+"But, bless him! he's a fine little fellow, and perhaps he will do
+better next year if I give him the horse."
+
+That was too much for our boy. With a "Hurrah!" he jumped up and
+turned a somersault right at Santa Claus's feet.
+
+"Stars and stripes!" cried Santa. "What's this?"
+
+"Come along, I'll show you the one!" cried Rob.
+
+Santa Claus allowed himself to be led off to the pile of horses. You
+may believe that Rob's sharp eyes soon picked out the one with the
+longest tail and the thickest mane.
+
+"Well, he beats all the boys that ever I saw! What shall I do with the
+little spy?"
+
+"Oh, dear Santa Claus," cried Robby, hugging the red boots, "do just
+take me along with you. I'll stick tight when you slide down the
+chimney."
+
+"Yes, I guess you will stick tight--in the chimney, my little man."
+
+"I mean to your back," half sobbed Rob.
+
+Santa Claus can't bear to see little folks in trouble, so he took the
+boy into his arms, and asked where he wanted to go.
+
+"To Tommy Turner's, and, oh, you know, that boy in the awful old
+jacket that likes popguns," was the breathless reply.
+
+Of course he knew him, for he knows every boy and girl in Christendom;
+so a popgun was added to the medley of toys. Santa Claus then strapped
+Rob and the basket on his back. He next crept through an open window
+to a ladder he had placed there, down which he ran as nimbly as a
+squirrel. The reindeer before the sledge were in a hurry to be off,
+and tinkled their silver bells right merrily. An instant more and they
+were snugly tucked up in the white robes; an instant more and they
+were flying like the wind over the snow.
+
+Ah! Tommy's home. Santa Claus sprang out, placed the light ladder
+against the house, and before Rob could wink a good fair wink they
+were on the roof, making for the chimney. Whether it swallowed him, or
+he swallowed it, is still a puzzle to Robby.
+
+Tommy lay sleeping in his little bed and dreaming of a merry
+Christmas. His rosy mouth was puckered into something between a
+whistle and a smile. Rob longed to give him a friendly punch, but
+Santa Claus shook his head. They filled his stocking and hurried away,
+for empty little stockings the world over were waiting for that
+generous hand.
+
+On they sped again, never stopping until they came to a wretched
+little hovel. A black pipe instead of a chimney was sticking through
+the roof.
+
+Rob thought, "Now I guess he'll have to give it up." But no, he softly
+pushed the door open and stepped in.
+
+On a ragged cot lay the urchin to whom Robby had given the cookies.
+One of them, half eaten, was still clutched in his hand. Santa Claus
+gently opened the other little fist and put the popgun into it.
+
+"Give him my drum," whispered Rob, and Santa Claus, without a word,
+placed it near the rumpled head.
+
+How swiftly they flew under the bright stars! How sweetly rang the
+bells!
+
+When Santa Claus reined up at Robby's door he found his little comrade
+fast asleep. He laid him tenderly in his crib, and drew off a
+stocking, which he filled with the smaller toys. The rocking-horse he
+placed close to the crib, that Rob might mount him on Christmas
+morning.
+
+A kiss, and he was gone.
+
+P.S.--Rob's mother says it was all a dream, but he declares that "It's
+true as Fourth of July!" I prefer to take his word for it.
+
+
+
+
+A CHILD'S THOUGHTS ABOUT SANTA CLAUS
+
+
+ What do you think my grandmother said,
+ Telling Christmas stories to me
+ To-night, when I went and coaxed and coaxed
+ With my head and arms upon her knee?
+
+ She thinks--she really told me so--
+ That good Mr. Santa Claus, long ago,
+ Was as old and grey as he is to-day,
+ Going around with his loaded sleigh.
+
+ She thinks he's driven through frost and snow
+ For a hundred, yes, a thousand times or so,
+ With jingling bells and a bag of toys--
+ Ho, ho! for good girls and boys,
+ With a carol gay,
+ Crying, "Clear the way,
+ For a rollicking, merry Christmas day!"
+ Grandmother knows almost everything--
+ All that I ask her she can tell;
+ Rivers and towns in geography,
+ And the hardest words she can always spell.
+ But the wisest ones, sometimes, they say,
+ Mistake--and even grandmother may.
+
+ If Santa Claus never had been a boy
+ How would he always know so well
+ What all the boys are longing for
+ On Christmas day? Can grandmother tell?
+
+ Why does he take the shiny rings,
+ The baby houses, the dolls with curls,
+ The little lockets and other such things
+ Never to boys, but always to girls?
+
+ Why does he take the skates and all
+ The bats and balls, and arrows and bows,
+ And trumpets and drums, and guns--hurrah!
+ To the boys? I wonder if grandmother knows?
+
+ But there's one thing that doesn't seem right--
+ If Santa Claus was a boy at play
+ And hung up his stocking on Christmas night,
+ Who filled it for him on Christmas day?
+
+ Sydney Dayre.
+
+
+
+
+CHARITY IN A COTTAGE
+
+Jean Ingelow
+
+
+The charity of the rich is much to be commended; but how beautiful is
+the charity of the poor!
+
+Call to mind the coldest day you ever experienced. Think of the bitter
+wind and driving snow; think how you shook and shivered--how the sharp
+white particles were driven up against your face--how, within doors,
+the carpets were lifted like billows along the floors, the wind howled
+and moaned in the chimneys, windows cracked, doors rattled, and every
+now and then heavy lumps of snow came thundering down with a dull
+weight from the roof.
+
+Now hear my story.
+
+In one of the broad, open plains of Lincolnshire, there is a long
+reedy sheet of water, a favourite resort of wild ducks. At its
+northern extremity stand two mud cottages, old, and out of repair.
+
+One bitter, bitter night, when the snow lay three feet deep on the
+ground, and a cutting east wind was driving it about, and whistling in
+the dry frozen reeds by the water's edge, and swinging the bare willow
+trees till their branches swept the ice, an old woman sat spinning in
+one of these cottages before a moderately cheerful fire. Her kettle
+was singing on the coals, she had a reed candle, or home-made
+rushlight, on her table, but the full moon shone in, and was the
+brighter light of the two. These two cottages were far from any road,
+or any other habitation; the old woman was, therefore, surprised, in
+an old northern song, by a sudden knock at the door.
+
+It was loud and impatient, not like the knock of her neighbours in the
+other cottage; but the door was bolted, and the old woman rose, and
+shuffling to the window, looked out and saw a shivering figure,
+apparently that of a youth.
+
+"Trampers!" said the old woman, sententiously, "tramping folks be not
+wanted here." So saying she went back to the fire without deigning to
+answer the door.
+
+The youth upon this tried the door, and called to her to beg
+admittance. She heard him rap the snow from his shoes against her
+lintel, and again knock as if he thought she was deaf, and he should
+surely gain admittance if he could make her hear.
+
+The old woman, surprised at his audacity, went to the casement and
+with all the pride of possession, opened it and inquired his business.
+
+"Good woman," the stranger began, "I only want a seat at your fire."
+
+"Nay," said the old woman, giving effect to her words by her uncouth
+dialect, "thou'll get no shelter here; I've nought to give to
+beggars--a dirty, wet critter," she continued wrathfully, slamming to
+the window. "It's a wonder where he found any water, too, seeing it
+freeze so hard a body can get none for the kettle, saving what's
+broken up with a hatchet."
+
+The stranger turned very hastily from her door and waded through the
+deep snow towards the other cottage. The bitter wind helped to drive
+him towards it. It looked no less poor than the first; and when he had
+tried the door and found it bolted and fast, his heart sank within
+him. His hand was so numbed with cold that he had made scarcely any
+noise; he tried again.
+
+A rush candle was burning within and a matronly looking woman sat
+before the fire. She held an infant in her arms and had dropped
+asleep; but his third knock aroused her, and wrapping her apron round
+the child, she opened the door a very little way, and demanded what he
+wanted.
+
+"Good woman," the youth began, "I have had the misfortune to fall in
+the water this bitter night, and I am so numbed I can scarcely walk."
+
+The woman gave him a sudden earnest look and then sighed.
+
+"Come in," she said; "thou art so nigh the size of my Jem, I thought
+at first it was him come home from sea."
+
+The youth stepped across the threshold, trembling with cold and wet;
+and no wonder, for his clothes were completely encased in wet mud,
+and the water dripped from them with every step he took on the sanded
+floor.
+
+"Thou art in a sorry plight," said the woman, "and it be two miles to
+the nighest house; come and kneel down afore the fire; thy teeth
+chatter so pitifully I can scarce bear to hear them."
+
+She looked at him more attentively and saw that he was a mere boy, not
+more than sixteen years of age. Her motherly heart was touched for
+him. "Art hungry?" she asked, turning to the table. "Thou art wet to
+the skin. What hast been doing?"
+
+"Shooting wild ducks," said the boy.
+
+"Oh," said the hostess, "thou art one of the keeper's boys, then, I
+reckon?"
+
+He followed the direction of her eyes, and saw two portions of bread
+set upon the table, with a small piece of bacon on each.
+
+"My master be very late," she observed, for charity did not make her
+use elegant language, and by her master she meant her husband; "but
+thou art welcome to my bit and sup, for I was waiting for him. Maybe
+it will put a little warmth in thee to eat and drink." So saying, she
+placed before him her own share of the supper.
+
+"Thank you," said the boy; "but I am so wet I am making quite a pool
+before your fire with the drippings from my clothes."
+
+"Aye, they are wet indeed," said the woman, and rising again she went
+to an old box, in which she began to search, and presently came to the
+fire with a perfectly clean check shirt in her hand and a tolerably
+good suit of clothes.
+
+"There," said she, showing them with no small pride, "these be my
+master's Sunday clothes, and if thou wilt be very careful of them I'll
+let thee wear them till thine be dry." She then explained that she was
+going to put her "bairn" to bed, and proceeded up a ladder into the
+room above, leaving the boy to array himself in these respectable
+garments.
+
+When she had come down her guest had dressed himself in the labourer's
+clothes; he had had time to warm himself, and he was eating and
+drinking with hungry relish. He had thrown his muddy clothes in a heap
+upon the floor. As she looked at him she said:
+
+"Ah, lad, lad, I doubt that head been under water: thy poor mother
+would have been sorely frightened if she could have seen thee a while
+ago."
+
+"Yes," said the boy; and in imagination the cottage dame saw this same
+mother, a careworn, hard-working creature like herself; while the
+youthful guest saw in imagination a beautiful and courtly lady; and
+both saw the same love, the same anxiety, the same terror, at sight of
+a lonely boy struggling in the moonlight through breaking ice, with no
+one to help him, catching at the frozen reeds, and then creeping up,
+shivering and benumbed, to a cottage door.
+
+But, even as she stooped, the woman forgot her imagination, for she
+had taken a waistcoat into her hands, such as had never passed between
+them before; a gold pencil-case dropped from the pocket; and on the
+floor amidst a heap of mud that covered the outer garments, lay a
+white shirt sleeve, so white, indeed, and so fine, that she thought it
+could hardly be worn by a squire!
+
+She glanced from the clothes to the owner. He had thrown down his
+cap, and his fair curly hair and broad forehead convinced her that he
+was of gentle birth; but while she hesitated to sit down, he placed a
+chair for her, and said with boyish frankness:
+
+"I say, what a lonely place this is! If you had not let me in, the
+water would have frozen me before I reached home. Catch me
+duck-shooting again by myself!"
+
+"It's very cold sport that, sir," said the woman.
+
+The young gentleman assented most readily, and asked if he might stir
+the fire.
+
+"And welcome, sir," said the woman.
+
+She felt a curiosity to know who he was, and he partly satisfied her
+by remarking that he was staying at Deen Hall, a house about five
+miles off, adding that in the morning he had broken a hole in the ice
+very near the decoy, but it iced over so fast, that in the dusk he had
+missed it, and fallen in, for it would not bear him. He had made some
+landmarks, and taken every proper precaution, but he supposed the
+sport had excited him so much that in the moonlight he had passed them
+by.
+
+He then told her of his attempt to get shelter in the other cottage.
+
+"Sir," said the woman, "if you had said you were a gentleman----"
+
+The boy laughed. "I don't think I knew it, my good woman," he replied,
+"my senses were so benumbed; for I was some time struggling at the
+water's edge among the broken ice, and then I believe I was nearly an
+hour creeping up to your cottage door. I remember it all rather
+indistinctly, but as soon as I had felt the fire and eaten something I
+was a different creature."
+
+As they still talked, the husband came in; and while he was eating his
+supper it was agreed that he should walk to Deen Hall, and let its
+inmates know of the gentleman's safety. When he was gone the woman
+made up the fire with all the coal that remained to the poor
+household, and crept up to bed, leaving her guest to lie down and rest
+before it.
+
+In the grey dawn the labourer returned, with a servant leading a
+horse, and bringing a fresh suit of clothes.
+
+The young man took his leave with many thanks, slipping three
+half-crowns into the woman's hand, probably all the money he had about
+him. And I must not forget to mention that he kissed the baby; for
+when she tells the story, the mother always adverts to that
+circumstance with great pride, adding that her child, being as "clean
+as wax, was quite fit to be kissed by anybody."
+
+"Misses," said her husband, as they stood in the doorway looking after
+their guest, "who dost think that be?"
+
+"I don't know," answered the misses.
+
+"Then I'll just tell thee; that be young Lord W----; so thou mayest be
+a proud woman; thou sits and talks with lords, and then asks them to
+supper--ha, ha!"
+
+So saying, her master shouldered his spade and went his way, leaving
+her clinking the three half-crowns in her hand, and considering what
+she should do with them.
+
+Her neighbour from the other cottage presently stepped in, and when
+she heard the tale and saw the money her heart was ready to break with
+envy and jealousy.
+
+"Oh, to think that good luck should have come to her door, and she
+should have been so foolish as to turn it away! Seven shillings and
+sixpence for a morsel of food and a night's shelter--why it was nearly
+a week's wages!"
+
+So there, as they both supposed, the matter ended, and the next week
+the frost was sharper than ever. Sheep were frozen in the fenny field
+and poultry on their perches, but the good woman had walked to the
+nearest town and bought a blanket. It was a welcome addition to their
+bed covering, and it was many a long year since they had been so
+comfortable.
+
+But it chanced one day at noon that, looking out at her casement she
+spied three young gentlemen skating along the ice towards her cottage.
+They sprang on to the bank, took off their skates, and made for her
+door. The young nobleman, for he was one of the three, informed her
+that he had had such a severe cold he could not come to see her
+before. "He spoke as free and pleasantly," she said, in telling the
+story, "as if I had been a lady, and no less, and then he brought a
+parcel out of his pocket, saying, 'I have been over to B---- and
+brought you a book for a keepsake, and I hope you will accept it;' and
+then they all talked as pretty as could be for a matter of ten
+minutes, and went away. So I waited till my master came home, and we
+opened the parcel, and there was a fine Bible inside, all over gold
+and red morocco, and my name and his name written inside; and, bless
+him, a ten-pound note doubled down over the names. I'm sure, when I
+thought he was a poor forlorn creature, he was kindly welcome. So my
+master laid out part of the money in tools, and we rented a garden;
+and he goes over on market days to sell what we grow, so now, thank
+God, we want for nothing."
+
+This is how she generally concludes the little history, never failing
+to add that the young lord kissed her baby.
+
+But I have not yet told you what I thought the best part of the story.
+When this poor Christian woman was asked what had induced her to take
+in a perfect stranger and trust him with the best clothing her home
+afforded, she answered simply, "Well, I saw him shivering and shaking,
+so I thought, thou shalt come in here, for the sake of Him that had
+not where to lay His head."
+
+The old woman in the other cottage may open her door every night of
+her future life to some forlorn beggar, but it is all but certain that
+she will never open it to a nobleman in disguise!
+
+Let us do good, not to receive more good in return, but as evidence of
+gratitude for what has been already bestowed. In a few words, let it
+be "all for love and nothing for reward."
+
+"The most excellent gift is charity."
+
+
+
+
+THE WAITS
+
+
+ At the break of Christmas Day,
+ Through the frosty starlight ringing,
+ Faint and sweet and far away,
+ Comes the sound of children, singing,
+ Chanting, singing,
+ "Cease to mourn,
+ For Christ is born,
+ Peace and joy to all men bringing!"
+
+ Careless that the chill winds blow,
+ Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,
+ Noiseless footfalls in the snow
+ Bring the happy voices nearer;
+ Hear them singing,
+ "Winter's drear,
+ But Christ is here,
+ Mirth and gladness with Him bringing!"
+
+ "Merry Christmas!" hear them say,
+ As the East is growing lighter;
+ "May the joy of Christmas Day
+ Make your whole year gladder, brighter!"
+ Join their singing,
+ "To each home
+ Our Christ has come,
+ All love's treasures with Him bringing!"
+
+ Margaret Deland.
+
+
+
+
+WHERE LOVE IS THERE GOD IS ALSO
+
+Leo Tolstoi
+
+
+Martuin, the shoemaker, lived in a city of Russia. His house was a
+little basement room with one window. Through this window he used to
+watch the people walking past. He was so far below the street that
+from his bench he could see only the feet of the passers-by but he
+knew them all by their boots. Nearly every pair of boots in the
+neighbourhood had been in his hands once and again. Some he would half
+sole, and some he would patch, some he would stitch around, and
+occasionally he would also put on new uppers. "Ah," he would say to
+himself, "there goes the baker. That was a fine piece of leather."
+Martuin always had plenty to do because he was a faithful workman,
+used good materials, and always finished an order as early as he
+promised it.
+
+In the evening when his work was done he would light his little oil
+lamp, take his book down from the shelf and begin to read. He had but
+one book, a Bible, and as he read he thought of the wonderful
+Christ-child. "Ah," he cried one night, "if He would only come to me
+and be my guest. If He should come, I wonder how I should receive
+Him." Martuin rested his head upon his hands and dozed. "Martuin," a
+voice seemed suddenly to sound in his ears.
+
+He started from his sleep. "Who is here?" He looked around but there
+was no one.
+
+Again he fell into a doze. Suddenly he plainly heard, "Martuin, ah,
+Martuin! Look to-morrow on the street. I am coming."
+
+At daybreak next morning Martuin woke, said his prayer, put his
+cabbage soup and gruel on to cook and sat down by the window to work.
+He worked hard but all the time he was thinking of the voice that he
+had heard. "Was it a dream," he said to himself, "or is He coming?
+Shall I really see Him to-day?" When anyone passed by in boots that he
+did not know he would bend down close to the window so that he could
+see the face as well as the boots.
+
+By and by an old, old man came along; he carried a shovel. It was
+Stephanwitch. Martuin knew him by his old felt boots. He was very poor
+and helped the house porter with all the hard work. Now he began to
+shovel away the snow from in front of Martuin's window. Martuin looked
+up eagerly.
+
+"Pshaw," said Martuin, "old Stephanwitch is clearing away the snow and
+I imagined the Christ-child was coming to see me." He looked again.
+How old and feeble Stephanwitch looked.
+
+"He is cold and weary," thought Martuin. "I will call him in and give
+him a cup of tea, the samovar must be boiling by now."
+
+He laid down his awl, made the tea, and tapped on the window. "Come in
+and warm yourself," he said.
+
+"May Christ reward you for this! My bones ache," said Stephanwitch.
+
+Stephanwitch shook off the snow and tried to wipe his feet so as not
+to soil the floor, but he staggered from cold and weariness.
+
+"Never mind that, I will clean it up. We are used to such things. Sit
+down and drink a cup of tea," said Martuin heartily.
+
+Martuin filled two cups and handed one to Stephanwitch who drank it
+eagerly, turned it upside down, and began to express his thanks.
+
+"Have some more?" said Martuin, refilling the cup.
+
+"Are you expecting anyone?" asked Stephanwitch. "I see you keep
+turning to look on the street."
+
+"I am ashamed to tell you whom I expect. I am, and I am not, expecting
+someone. You see, brother, I was reading about the Christ and how He
+walked on earth and I thought, 'If He came to me, should I know how to
+receive Him?' and I heard a voice, 'Be on the watch, I shall come
+to-morrow.' It is absurd, yet would you believe it, I am expecting
+Him, the Christ-child."
+
+Stephanwitch shook his head but said nothing.
+
+Martuin filled his guest's cup with hot tea and continued, "You see I
+have an idea He would come to the simple people. He picked out His
+disciples from simple working people like us. Come, brother, have
+some more tea."
+
+But Stephanwitch rose. "Thanks to you, Martuin, for treating me kindly
+and warming me, soul and body."
+
+"You are welcome, brother, come again."
+
+Stephanwitch departed. Martuin put away the dishes and sat down by the
+window to stitch on a patch. He kept looking out as he stitched.
+
+Two soldiers passed by; one wore boots that Martuin had made; then the
+master of the next house; then a baker. Then there came a woman in
+woolen stockings and wooden shoes. Martuin looked up through the
+window. He saw she was a stranger poorly clad in shabby summer
+clothes. She had turned her back to the wind and was trying to shelter
+a little child who was crying.
+
+Martuin went to the door and called out, "Why are you standing there
+in the cold? Come into my room where it is warm."
+
+The woman was astonished when she saw the old, old man in his leather
+apron and big spectacles beckoning and calling to her, but she gladly
+followed him.
+
+"There," said Martuin, "sit down near the stove and warm yourself."
+Then he brought out bread, poured out cabbage soup, and took up the
+pot with the gruel.
+
+"Eat, eat," he said. "I will mind the little one. Tell me, why are you
+out in this bitter cold?"
+
+"I am a soldier's wife, but my husband has been sent far away. We have
+used up our money and I went to-day for work but they told me to come
+again."
+
+Martuin sighed. "Have you no warm clothes?"
+
+"Ah, this is the time to wear them, but yesterday I sold my last warm
+shawl for food."
+
+Martuin sighed. He went to the little cupboard and found an old coat.
+"Take it," he said. "It is a poor thing, yet it may help you." He
+slipped some money into her hand and with this said, "Buy yourself a
+shawl and food till work shall be found."
+
+"May Christ bless you!" she cried. "He must have sent me to you. It
+had grown so cold my little child would have frozen to death, but He,
+the Christ-child, led you to look through the window."
+
+"Indeed He did," said Martuin, smiling.
+
+The woman left. Martuin ate some sheki, washed the dishes, and sat
+down again by the window to work. A shadow darkened the window.
+Martuin looked up eagerly. It was only an acquaintance who lived a
+little further down the street. Again the window grew dark. This time
+Martuin saw that an old apple woman had stopped right in front of the
+window. She carried a basket with apples and over her shoulder she had
+a bag full of chips. One could see that the bag was heavy. She lowered
+it to the sidewalk and as she did so, she set the apples on a little
+post. A little boy with a torn cap darted up, picked an apple out of
+the basket and started to run but the old woman caught him, knocked
+off his cap, and seized him by the hair.
+
+Martuin ran out in the cold. "Let him go, Babushka; forgive him for
+Christ's sake."
+
+"I will forgive him so that he won't forget it till the new broom
+grows! I am going to take him to the police."
+
+"Let him go, Babushka, let him go for Christ's sake. He will never do
+it again."
+
+The old woman let him loose. The boy tried to run, but Martuin kept
+him back.
+
+"Ask Babushka's forgiveness," he said, "and never do it again. I saw
+you take the apple."
+
+With tears in his eyes the boy began to ask forgiveness.
+
+"There, that's all right," said Martuin; "take the apple. I will pay
+for it."
+
+"You ruin the good-for-nothings," said the old woman. "He should be
+well punished. He deserves it."
+
+"Perhaps," answered Martuin, "but God forgives us though we deserve it
+not."
+
+"Well, well," said the old woman, appeased, "after all it was but a
+childish trick." She started to lift the bag upon her shoulder.
+
+"Let me take it," said the boy. "It is on my way."
+
+Side by side they passed along the street, the boy carrying the bag
+and chattering to the old woman. Martuin turned and went back into the
+little room.
+
+After sewing a little while it grew too dark to see. He lighted his
+little lamp, finished his piece of work, put it away, and took down
+his Bible. Suddenly he seemed to hear someone stepping around behind
+him. In the dark corner there seemed to be people standing. Then he
+heard a voice, "Martuin, ah, Martuin, did you not know me?"
+
+"Who?" cried Martuin.
+
+"It is I," replied the voice, and Stephanwitch stepped forth from the
+dark corner, smiled, and faded away like a little cloud.
+
+"And this is I!" said the voice again, and from the dark corner
+stepped the woman and the child. The woman smiled, the child laughed,
+and then they, too, vanished.
+
+"And this is I!" and the old woman and the boy stepped forward,
+smiled, and vanished. Then a light filled the little room and glowed
+about the figure of a Child and Martuin heard the words:
+
+"For I was an hungered and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave
+me drink; I was a stranger and ye took me in." And Martuin knew that
+the Christ-child had really come to him that Christmas-tide.
+(_Adapted._)
+
+
+
+
+GOD REST YE, MERRY GENTLEMEN
+
+
+ God rest ye, merry gentlemen,
+ Let nothing you dismay,
+ For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
+ Was born upon this day,
+ To save us all from Satan's pow'r
+ When we were gone astray.
+ O tidings of comfort and joy!
+ For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
+ Was born on Christmas Day.
+
+ Now to the Lord sing praises,
+ All you within this place,
+ And with true love and brotherhood
+ Each other now embrace;
+ This holy tide of Christmas
+ All others doth deface.
+ O tidings of comfort and joy!
+ For Jesus Christ, our Saviour,
+ Was born on Christmas Day.
+
+ Dinah Mulock Craik.
+
+
+
+
+THE GLAD NEW YEAR
+
+
+
+
+THE GLAD NEW YEAR
+
+
+ It's coming, boys,
+ It's almost here.
+ It's coming, girls,
+ The grand New Year.
+
+ A year to be glad in,
+ Not to be sad in;
+ A year to live in,
+ To gain and give in.
+
+ A year for trying,
+ And not for sighing;
+ A year for striving
+ And healthy thriving.
+
+ It's coming, boys,
+ It's almost here.
+ It's coming, girls,
+ The grand New Year.
+
+ Mary Mapes Dodge.
+
+
+
+
+THE BAD LITTLE GOBLIN'S NEW YEAR
+
+Mary Stewart
+
+
+Come, children dear, let's sit on the floor around the fire, so, and
+watch those golden flames dancing and leaping. You see that very gay
+one just springing up the chimney? I know a story about him, a New
+Year's story. Let's snuggle up closer and look into the fire. You see
+that piece of coal black wood, there at the end? There was a horrid
+little goblin once who was as black as that bit of wood. His clothes
+were all black, his round cap looked like a bit of coal, his pointed
+shoes were jet black, and his face was dark with dirt and an ugly
+scowling expression. Altogether he was a horrid looking goblin, and he
+was just as hateful as he looked. There wasn't a single person who
+liked him. The birds hated him because he would wait after dark when
+all the baby birds were cuddled down in the nest, fast asleep. Then
+he would pop up from under the nest where he had been hiding and cry,
+"Morning time, wake up!" and all the babies would cry, "Chirp, chirp,
+Daddy bring us our breakfast!" They opened their bills so wide that it
+took a long time to shut them and put the excited babies to sleep
+again. Once Blackie, that was the goblin's name, dropped a bit of twig
+down into a baby's open bill and the poor bird coughed so hard that he
+kept the birds in the nests around awake all night. Blackie chuckled
+with glee and went scurrying off on another prank.
+
+While the mother bunnies were asleep he painted the tiny white flags
+they wear under their tails with brown mud from the marsh. When
+morning-time really did come and the mother bunnies woke up and called
+to their children to follow them, the little bunnies couldn't see any
+white flags on their mothers' tails to follow, and all got lost in the
+long grass. It took the whole day to gather them together, and still
+longer to get those flags clean again.
+
+Blackie jumped for joy. The mother bunnies would have liked to reach
+him with their sharp claws, but he was too quick for them.
+
+Then Blackie found the holes where the squirrels had hidden their nuts
+for the winter. It had taken months to gather them, but Blackie waited
+until they were out hunting again, and he carried all the nuts away
+and hid them in the roots of an old tree where they would never think
+of looking!
+
+That wasn't all! Blackie did one last thing so terrible that I don't
+like to tell you about it. He waited until a robin's nest was full of
+lovely blue eggs and the father bird was off in search of worms. Then
+he made such a rustling in the next tree that the mother bird flew off
+to see what it was, and while she was gone--Blackie danced upon the
+eggs until they were all broken!
+
+That filled the timid wood creatures with fury. The birds, the
+rabbits, and the squirrels rushed upon the goblin and drove him before
+them. The birds pecked him with their beaks, and the squirrels and
+rabbits hopped after him with their claws outstretched. Away ran
+Blackie, really frightened at last, faster and faster until he reached
+the darkest part of the whole forest. There he jumped into a hole in a
+tree, curling himself up so tightly that his round cap touched his
+pointed shoes, and while he trembled with fear he heard the birds and
+bunnies and squirrels go tearing past, thinking that the wicked little
+goblin was still running ahead of them.
+
+When they had all gone, Blackie peeked out of his hole. Oh, how
+terribly quiet it was! Not a bird chirped, not a squirrel or a rabbit
+or a woodchuck lived there. It was so quiet and so dark and so lonely
+that Blackie began to feel quite forlorn. "I would almost be polite to
+a tree toad!" he thought, but not even a croak or a buzz or a rustle
+broke the stillness. The bad little goblin put his head down upon his
+black knees and went to sleep; there was nothing else to do!
+
+The first sound which woke him up was, "Chop-chop!" He rubbed his eyes
+and peeked out. He saw woodcutters cutting down trees with their sharp
+axes. Then he saw them coming toward the tree where he was hiding.
+Shaking with terror, Blackie curled himself up into a tight ball.
+Chop-chop-crash! went the tree, and Blackie's head bumped hard against
+the top of his hole as, still inside it, he felt the tree fall to the
+ground. That was rather fun, and much excited he peeked out of a crack
+and watched the men fastening chains around the trees and loading them
+on wheels. His own tree went, too, and the next thing Blackie heard
+was saw-saw, as the tree was sawed into logs at a lumber yard. Again
+he rolled up tight, hoping the knives wouldn't cut him in two, and
+they didn't! He was still safe in his hole when his log was thrown
+with others, right down into a dark cellar. It was even drearier there
+than in the forest and Blackie began to long for some playfellows. "I
+wouldn't tease them. I'd just play with them nicely," he sighed, and
+two tears ran down his little black face, washing it almost clean.
+
+Then Blackie heard a strange new sound. It was gayer than a squirrel's
+chatter, sweeter than a bird's song,--it was a child's laughter! Where
+did it come from? Blackie stopped crying and listened. It came again
+and the laughter of other children mingled with it. Blackie peeked
+out. There was no one in the cellar. He crept out and tiptoed up the
+stairs, in search of those laughing voices. Hiding in the shadows so
+that no one could see him, he passed through the kitchen and on into a
+room full of sunshine and children. He ran in and hid behind a
+curtain, peeking out curiously. In the center of the room stood a
+little golden-haired girl, the one whose laughter he had first heard.
+But as Blackie watched her with delight he saw her pucker up her face
+as though she were going to cry. "My dolly, my dear dolly, I tan't
+find her!" she wailed. In a flash all the other boys and girls were
+searching under chairs and tables for the runaway dolly. They couldn't
+find her, but Blackie saw a pair of doll's feet poking out from under
+the sofa. He hopped swiftly across the floor, pulled the doll out by
+one leg and placed her on a chair beside the little girl.
+
+"Oh, see, my doll's tum back!" she cried, hugging her with joy. "She
+went for a walk and tame back again!" and taking the doll's two hands
+in hers she danced with her around the room. The other children
+danced, too, and their laughter rang out again. "She went for a walk
+and came back all herself!" they cried.
+
+Blackie thought he had never seen or heard anything so merry, it made
+him want to dance, also. Poor little black goblin whom the maid, if
+she had seen him, would have swept out of the room, mistaking him for
+a bit of coal!
+
+But Blackie took care that no one did see him. Except, perhaps, the
+children, I don't know whether anyone ever saw him or not. He spent
+most of the time with them, and somehow they seemed to know that he
+was there and that he was their friend. Every evening when they had
+their supper they put a bowl of milk in front of the fire for him, and
+when they came in to breakfast the bowl was always empty. I don't know
+how Blackie drank it without being seen, for he still slept in his log
+in the cellar and was asleep as soon as the children's heads touched
+their pillows. The children's mother was puzzled over that empty bowl,
+but she might have guessed there was a friendly goblin in the house
+by the way lost things were always turning up.
+
+"I can't find my thimble!" the mother would cry. "Come, children, and
+look for it!" On the floor, under the rug, in the flower pots, and on
+the tables hunted the children. But hiding behind the curtain Blackie
+had seen a bit of something gold shining through the tassels of the
+sofa. Quick as a flash, he pulled it out and placed it on the arm of
+the mother's chair. "Why, here it is!" she exclaimed. "How did it get
+there?" The children laughed and winked at each other, as though they
+understood, but how could they explain about the goblin to mother?
+
+Their father was always looking for his spectacles. Mother, the
+children, and all the maids would be called in to help search. Before
+Blackie came they often searched for hours, but he always found them
+in a twinkling, in a book, perhaps, or under the fender, and would
+place them right in front of father. "Gracious, look here, there must
+be some magic around!" he would cry, and the children would jump up
+and down with glee! They knew all about the magic. They guessed that
+a little black goblin was also jumping with delight behind the
+curtain!
+
+One morning,--it was New Year's Day,--Blackie slept longer than usual.
+He was curled up inside his log, so sound asleep that even the
+joggling of his home being carried upstairs didn't waken him. Then he
+was turned upside down, and, opening his eyes, he peeked out of the
+crack and found that the log was about to be thrown onto the blazing
+fire! Crash! it went. How very warm it was, and then Blackie heard the
+children laughing. He poked his head out and saw them all sitting in
+front of the fire, watching the blaze. All around Blackie red and
+yellow flames were dancing, so gay, so golden, so happy that Blackie
+forgot to be frightened. "I want to be gay, too!" he cried. "I want to
+laugh with the children and dance with the flames." His log caught
+fire, blazed up and out sprang Blackie,--a little black goblin no
+longer!
+
+Instead, he was the shiniest, most dancing golden flame that you ever
+saw! For a few moments he just danced up and down with delight, then,
+waving and bowing to the children, he cried, "Happy New Year! Happy
+New Year!" and sprang up the chimney. The children's glad voices
+echoed after him.
+
+When he reached the top he saw a glorious sight. The sun shining on
+the snow and ice turned the world into a sparkling Fairy-land, and the
+sky was as blue as forget-me-nots, or Polly's eyes, or the very bluest
+thing you have ever seen. Blackie danced with the sunbeams over the
+glittering ice until he almost ran into a flock of little birds
+huddled down in the snow, too cold to fly. Their feathers were ruffled
+and they looked very miserable. "Come play with me!" he cried, dancing
+around them. He was so gay and so beautiful that they forgot the cold,
+and flew in circles around him. "Come and join us!" he cried to a
+group of rabbits who were hunched up upon the snow, half-frozen. They
+hopped along slowly toward him and then--they, too, forgot the cold
+while they played games with the golden goblin and the birds, until
+they were all as merry as the sunbeams. "Happy New Year! Happy New
+Year!" they called to each other, and to the twinkling flame goblin.
+
+Then Blackie saw some squirrels curled up on the branches of a tree so
+miserable they couldn't even make-believe scamper. "What is the
+matter; do you want some nuts?" he cried. "Follow me!" And away he
+darted to the roots of the tree where, as a naughty little goblin, he
+had hidden their winter store. The squirrels followed slowly, but when
+they saw their treasure their eyes sparkled, their teeth chattered
+with delight, and they scampered back and forth from the tree root to
+their own holes, their paws full of nuts. They were as gay as Blackie
+himself. "Happy New Year! Happy New Year!" they cried to their
+gleaming friend, whom they never dreamed was the bad little goblin
+they had chased away the autumn before!
+
+So all day and for many days the goblin danced and sang and helped
+people and birds and the wood creatures. He twinkled as merrily in the
+sunshine out of doors as he did when he danced in the fire, warming
+the children and singing them songs.
+
+"It's like Happy New Year every day when the goblin is here!" cried
+the children, dancing as gayly on the hearth rug as the sprite was
+dancing within the fire. "There he is now, do you see him? He is
+dancing and crackling and crying to all of us, 'Happy New Year, Happy
+New Year!'"
+
+
+
+
+ Let others looke for Pearle and Gold,
+ Tissues, or Tabbies manifold;
+ One only lock of that sweet Hay
+ Whereon the blessed Babie lay,
+ Or one poore Swadling-clout, shall be
+ The richest New-Yeere's Gift to me.
+
+ Robert Herrick.
+
+
+
+
+THE QUEEN OF THE YEAR
+
+
+ When suns are low and nights are long
+ And winds bring wild alarms,
+ Through the darkness comes the Queen of the Year
+ In all her peerless charms,--
+ December, fair and holly-crowned,
+ With the Christ-child in her arms.
+
+ The maiden months are a stately train,
+ Veiled in the spotless snow,
+ Or decked with the bloom of Paradise
+ What time the roses blow,
+ Or wreathed with the vine and the yellow wheat
+ When the noons of harvest glow.
+
+ But, oh, the joy of the rolling year,
+ The queen with peerless charms,
+ Is she who comes through the waning light
+ To keep the world from harms,--
+ December, fair and holly-crowned,
+ With the Christ-child in her arms.
+
+ Edna Dean Proctor.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW YEAR'S BELL
+
+Andrea Hofer Proudfoot
+
+
+A-ring-a-ring, ring! A-ring-a-ring, ring!
+
+"Brother Carl, wake up! wake up! Don't you hear the great bell? Father
+is ringing the New Year in, don't you hear it, little Carl? Wake up!"
+
+Tangled-haired little Carl sat up in bed, rubbed his eyes, and after a
+few winks opened them wide.
+
+"Is it the wind, brother Hans, that sings so?"
+
+"No, no! It is the great bell; don't you hear it ring? It is ringing
+for the New Year."
+
+"Is father drawing the rope?" asked the little one.
+
+"Of course he is, little Carl; he is waking up the whole world that
+every one may wish a 'Happy New Year.' Come, let us go to the window."
+
+And the two little fellows crept out of their warm nest onto the cold
+floor, and over to the window in the gable.
+
+"Oh, see, there is father's lantern in the steeple window!" cried
+Carl.
+
+It threw its light into the frosty night; the clear stars cut sharp
+holes in the sky, and the air was so cold it made everything glisten.
+
+A-ring-a-ring, ring! clanged the great bell, and little Hans and Carl
+knew their father's arms were making it ring. The strokes were so
+strong that each one made little half-asleep Carl wink; and the stars
+seemed to wink back to him each time. He crept closer to Hans, and the
+two stood still with their arms about each other; the room was quite
+cold, but they did not mind it, for with each stroke the great bell
+seemed to ring more beautifully. It seemed so near them, as if ringing
+right in their ears, and the two little boys stood and listened with
+beating hearts.
+
+"I saw dear father trim his lantern," whispered Hans. "He set it near
+the door before we went to bed, all ready to light when the clock
+struck twelve. Mother said to him as he put the lantern there, 'Ring
+the bell good and strong, dear father, for who knows but this year may
+bring the great blessing which the Christ-child promised!' We must
+watch for it, little Carl."
+
+And the old bell seemed to speak louder and clearer to the little
+ones, as they eagerly listened for what it was telling.
+
+"Father says the bell will never ring from the old tower again, for
+the new one is being built," said Hans. "And what do you think,
+brother Carl, our dear mother wept because the old steeple must be
+broken down, and the dear bell, that is even now a-ringing, must be
+put into another great tower to ring."
+
+"Does the great bell know it, brother?"
+
+"No, dear little Carl; but no matter where it is put it will always
+ring, and be glad to wake the village for the New Year."
+
+"Will we go and say good-bye to the dear old bell, brother Hans?"
+whispered little Carl.
+
+"Yes, brother mine; when it is day we will go, for it has rung so many
+times for us."
+
+They crept out of the cold into their snug bed again, and the great
+strokes poured from the tower window long after the little curly
+heads were full of dreams.
+
+"Wake up, brother Hans! there is the sun."
+
+This time little Carl was the first to arise. Quickly they were both
+dressed, and, opening their door noiselessly, they went down the
+narrow stairs on tiptoe, and then out into the open air.
+
+A swift wind was blowing. It swept over the bare bushes and whirled
+the snow into the children's faces, and filled their curly hair with
+flakes. But the sun was smiling down on them and said: "See what a
+beautiful day I brought for a New Year's gift to you!"
+
+And the little ones passed through the church door, that was always
+open, and into the belfry tower. They knew the way, for father had so
+often taken them with him.
+
+They came to the long, dark ladder-way; but they did not mind the
+dark--for they knew the bell was at the top, and they bravely began to
+climb.
+
+Hans had wooden shoes, so he left them at the foot of the ladder. It
+is so much easier to climb a ladder with bare feet. Besides, he
+hardly felt the cold he was such a quick and lively little boy.
+
+Carl went ahead that brother Hans might the more easily help him. They
+climbed, up and up, and the brave big brother talked merrily all the
+time, to keep little Carl from thinking of the long, long way. Up and
+up they went. It became darker and darker. Little Carl led on and on,
+and he was glad that Hans was behind him.
+
+All at once a bright gleam of light greeted them from above, and they
+knew that soon they would be with the dear old bell.
+
+Through the opening they crept, and there the great bell hung and they
+stood beneath it. Hans could just touch it, and he felt its long
+tongue and saw the shining marks on its sides where it had struck in
+clanging for many, many years.
+
+It was very cold in the belfry. Little Carl tucked his hands under his
+blouse and gazed at the bell, while Hans explained to him what made
+the music and the great tolling tones that came from it.
+
+"The whole world loves the great bell, brother Carl," said Hans.
+"Mother thinks that last night it rang in the great blessing which the
+Christ-child had promised."
+
+"What did the little Christ-child promise, brother?"
+
+"Don't you remember, little Carl? Mother told us that the Christ-child
+would send little children a beautiful gift; I think it must be the
+New Year that he has sent, for that is what the old bell brought to us
+last night."
+
+And Hans lifted little Carl, and he kissed the beautiful bell on its
+great round lip, and the bell was still warm from its long ringing.
+
+And they stood and looked at the bell quietly for a long time. And
+then they said, "Good-bye, dear great bell," and they went down the
+dark ladder again.
+
+Hans put on his wooden shoes at the foot of the ladder, and with
+flying feet they crossed the church garden, and there stood the dear
+mother in the door looking for them. She had found their little bed
+empty, and was just starting out to find them.
+
+"Dear Mother, we have been in the tower to thank the great bell for
+bringing the New Year," cried Hans.
+
+"Did the Christ-child send it, Mother?" asked little Carl.
+
+The mother stooped and put her arms about them and kissed them both.
+As she led them into the room she said, "Yes, my little ones, the
+Christ-child sends the New Year."
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW YEAR
+
+
+ Snow-wrapped and holly-decked it comes,
+ To richest and to poorest homes.
+ Twelve jeweled months all set with days
+ Of priceless opportunities.
+ A silver moon, a golden sun,
+ With diamond stars when day is done;
+ Over all a sapphire sky
+ Where pearly clouds go floating by.
+
+ (_Selected._)
+
+
+
+
+THE CHILD AND THE YEAR
+
+
+ Said the child to the youthful year:
+ "What hast thou in store for me,
+ O giver of beautiful gifts! what cheer,
+ What joy dost thou bring with thee?"
+
+ "My seasons four shall bring
+ Their treasures: the winter's snows,
+ The autumn's store, and the flowers of spring,
+ And the summer's perfect rose.
+
+ "All these and more shall be thine,
+ Dear child--but the last and best
+ Thyself must earn by a strife divine,
+ If thou wouldst be truly blest."
+
+ Celia Thaxter.
+
+
+
+
+A MASQUE OF THE DAYS
+
+Charles Lamb
+
+
+The Old Year being dead, and the New Year coming of age, which he
+does, by calendar law as soon as the breath is out of the old
+gentleman's body, nothing would serve the young spark, but he must
+give a dinner upon the occasion, to which all the Days in the year
+were invited. The Festivals, whom he deputed as his stewards, were
+mightily taken with the notion. They had been engaged time out of
+mind, they said, in providing mirth and good cheer for mortals below,
+and it was time they should have a taste of their own bounty.
+
+It was stiffly debated among them whether the Fasts should be
+admitted. Some said the appearance of such lean, starved guests, with
+their mortified faces, would pervert the ends of the meeting. But the
+objection was overruled by Christmas Day, who had a design upon Ash
+Wednesday (as you shall hear), and a mighty desire to see how the old
+Domine would behave himself in his cups. Only the Vigils were
+requested to come with their lanterns to light the gentlefolk home at
+night.
+
+All the Days came. Covers were provided for three hundred and
+sixty-five guests at the principal table; with an occasional knife and
+fork at the sideboard for the Twenty-ninth of February.
+
+Cards of invitation had been issued. The carriers were the Hours;
+twelve little, merry, whirligig foot-pages that went all round and
+found out the person invited, with the exception of Easter Day, Shrove
+Tuesday, and a few such movables, who had lately shifted their
+quarters.
+
+Well, they all met at last, foul Days, fine Days, all sorts of Days,
+and a rare din they made of it. There was nothing but "Hail, fellow
+Day! well met!" only Lady Day seemed a little scornful. Yet some said
+Twelfth Day cut her out, for she came all royal and glittering and
+Epiphanous. The rest came in green, some in white, but old Lent and
+his family were not yet out of mourning. Rainy Days came in dripping,
+and Sunshiny Days laughing. Wedding Day was there in marriage finery.
+Pay Day came late, and Doomsday sent word he might be expected.
+
+April Fool took upon himself to marshal the guests, and May Day, with
+that sweetness peculiar to her, proposed the health of the host. This
+being done, the lordly New Year, from the upper end of the table,
+returned thanks. Ash Wednesday, being now called upon for a song,
+struck up a carol, which Christmas Day had taught him. Shrovetide,
+Lord Mayor's Day, and April Fool next joined in a glee, in which all
+the Days, chiming in, made a merry burden.
+
+All this while Valentine's Day kept courting pretty May, who sat next
+him, slipping amorous billet-doux under the table till the Dog Days
+began to be jealous and to bark and rage exceedingly.
+
+At last the Days called for their cloaks and great-coats, and took
+their leave. Shortest Day went off in a deep black fog that wrapped
+the little gentleman all round. Two Vigils--so watchmen are called in
+Heaven--saw Christmas Day safe home; they had been used to the
+business before. Another Vigil--a stout, sturdy patrol, called the Eve
+of St. Christopher--seeing Ash Wednesday in a condition little better
+than he should be, e'en whipt him over his shoulders, pick-a-pack
+fashion, and he went floating home, singing:
+
+ "On the bat's back do I fly,"
+
+and a number of old snatches besides. Longest Day set off westward in
+beautiful crimson and gold; the rest, some in one fashion, some in
+another; but Valentine and pretty May took their departure together in
+one of the prettiest silvery twilights a Lover's Day could wish to set
+in.
+
+
+
+
+RING OUT, WILD BELLS
+
+
+ Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
+ The flying cloud, the frosty light:
+ The year is dying in the night;
+ Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
+
+ Ring out the old, ring in the new,
+ Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
+ The year is going, let him go;
+ Ring out the false, ring in the true.
+
+ Alfred Tennyson.
+
+
+
+
+MIDWINTER
+
+
+
+
+THE BELLS
+
+
+ Hear the sledges with the bells--
+ Silver bells!
+ What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
+ How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
+ In the icy air of night!
+ While the stars, that oversprinkle
+ All the heavens, seem to twinkle
+ With a crystalline delight;
+ Keeping time, time, time,
+ In a sort of Runic rhyme,
+ To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
+ From the bells, bells, bells--
+ Bells, bells, bells--
+ From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
+
+ Edgar Allen Poe.
+
+
+
+
+A JANUARY THAW
+
+Dallas Lore Sharp
+
+
+It was the twenty-first of January--the dead of winter! The stubborn
+cold had had the out of doors under lock and key since Thanksgiving
+Day. We were having a hard winter, and the novelty of the thing was
+beginning to wear off--to us grown-ups anyhow, and to the birds and
+wild things which for weeks had found scant picking over the ice and
+snow. But I was snug enough in my upstairs study, when suddenly the
+door opened and four bebundled boys stood before me, with an axe, a
+long-handled shovel, a basket, and, evidently, a big secret.
+
+"Come on, father," they whispered (as if she hadn't heard them
+clomping with their kit through the house!), "it's mother's birthday
+to-morrow, and we're going after the flowers."
+
+"Going to chop them down with the axe or dig them up with the
+shovel?" I asked. "Going to give her a nice bunch of frost-flowers?
+Better get the ice-saw then, for we'll need a big block of ice to
+stick their stems in."
+
+"Hurry," they answered, dropping my hip-boots on the floor. "Here are
+your scuffs."
+
+I hurried, and soon the five of us, in single file were out on the
+meadow, the dry snow squeaking under our feet, while the little winds,
+capering spitefully about us, blew the snow-dust into our faces or
+catching up the thin drifts sent them whirling like waltzing wraiths
+of dancers over the meadow's glittering floor.
+
+I was beginning to warm up a little, but it was a numb, stiff world
+about us, and bleak and stark, a world all black and white, for there
+was not even blue overhead. The white underfoot ran off to meet the
+black of the woods, and the woods in turn stood dark against a sky so
+heavy with snow that it seemed to shut us into some vast snow cave. A
+crow flapping over drew a black pencil line across the picture--the
+one sign of life besides ourselves that we could see. Only small boys
+are likely to leave their firesides on such a day--only small boys,
+and those men who can't grow up. Yet never before, perhaps, had even
+they gone out on such a tramp with an axe, a shovel, and a basket, to
+pick flowers!
+
+Suddenly one of the boys dashed off, crying: "Let's go see if the
+muskrats have gone to bed yet!" and, trailing after him, we made for a
+little mound that stood about three feet high out in the meadow, more
+like a big ant hill or a small, snow-piled haycock, than a lodge of
+any sort. Only a practiced eye could have seen it, and only a lover of
+bleak days would have known what might be alive in there.
+
+We crept up softly and surrounded the lodge; then with the axe we
+struck the frozen, flinty roof several ringing blows. Instantly
+one-two-three muffled, splashy "plunks" were heard as three little
+muskrats, frightened out of their naps and half out of their wits,
+plunged into the open water of their doorways from off their damp, but
+cosy couch.
+
+It was a mean thing to do--but not very mean as wild animal life goes.
+And it did warm me up so, in spite of the chilly plunge the little
+sleepers took! Chilly to them? Not at all and that is why it warmed
+me. To hear the splash of water down under the two feet of ice and
+snow that sealed the meadow like a sheet of steel! To hear the sounds
+of stirring life, and to picture that snug, steaming bed on the top of
+a tough old tussock, with its open water-doors leading into freedom
+and plenty below! "Why, it won't be long before the arbutus is in
+bloom," I began to think. I looked at the axe and the shovel and said
+to myself, "Well, the boys may know what they are doing after all,
+though three muskrats do not make a spring."
+
+We had cut back to our path, but had not gone ten paces along it
+before another boy was off to the left in the direction of a piece of
+maple swamp.
+
+"He's going to see if 'Hairy' is in his hole," they informed me, and
+we all took after him. The "hole" was almost twenty-five feet up in a
+dead oak stub that had blown off and lodged against a live tree. The
+meadow had been bleak and wind-swept, but the swamp was naked and
+dead, filled with ice and touched with a most forbidding emptiness
+and stillness. I was getting cold again, when the boy ahead tapped
+lightly on the old stub, and at the empty hole appeared a head--a
+fierce black and white head, a sharp, long beak, a flashing eye--as
+"Hairy" came forth to fight for his castle. He was too wise a fighter
+to tackle all of us, however, so, slipping out, he spread his wings
+and galloped off with a loud, wild call that set all the swamp to
+ringing.
+
+It was a thrilling, defiant challenge that set my blood to leaping
+again. Black and white, he was a part of the picture, but there was a
+scarlet band at the nape of his neck that, like his call, had fire in
+it and the warmth of life.
+
+As his woodpecker shout went booming through the hollow halls of the
+swamp, it woke a blue jay who squalled back from a clump of pines,
+then wavering out into the open on curious wings--flashing ice-blue
+and snow-white wings--he dived into the covert of pines again; and
+faint, as if from beyond the swamp, the cheep of chickadees! Here a
+little troop of them came to peep into the racket, curious but not
+excited, discussing the disturbance of the solemn swamp in that
+desultory, sewing-bee fashion of theirs, as if nipping off threads and
+squinting through needle-eyes between their running comment.
+
+They, too, were grey and black, grey as the swamp beeches, black as
+the spotted bark of the birches. And how tiny! But----
+
+ "Here was this atom in full breath
+ Hurling defiance at vast death--
+ This scrap of valour just for play
+ Fronts the north wind in waistcoat grey."
+
+And this, also, is what Emerson says he sings,
+
+ "Good day, good sir!
+ Fine afternoon, old passenger!
+ Happy to meet you in these places
+ Where January brings few faces."
+
+And as I brought to mind the poet's lines, I forgot to shiver, and
+quite warmed up again to the idea of flowers, especially as one of the
+boys just then brought up a spray of green holly with a burning red
+berry on it!
+
+We were tacking again to get back on our course, and had got into the
+edge of the swamp among the pines when the boy with the shovel began
+to study the ground and the trees with a searching eye, moving forward
+and back as if trying to find the location of something.
+
+"Here it is," he said, and set in digging through the snow at the foot
+of a big pine. I knew what he was after. It was gold thread, and here
+was the only spot, in all the woods about, where we had ever found
+it--a spot not larger than the top of a dining-room table.
+
+Soon we had a fistful of the delicate plants with their evergreen
+leaflets and long, golden thread-like roots, that mixed with the red
+and green of the partridge berry in a finger-bowl makes a cheerful
+little winter bouquet. And here with the gold thread, about the butt
+of the pine, was the partridge berry, too, the dainty vines strung
+with the beads which seemed to burn holes in the snow that had covered
+and banked the tiny fires.
+
+For this is all that the ice and snow had done. The winter had come
+with wind enough to blow out every flame in the maple tops, and with
+snow enough to smother every little fire in the peat bogs of the
+swamp; but peat fires are hard to put out, and here and everywhere the
+winter had only banked the fires of summer. Dig down through the snow
+ashes anywhere and the smouldering fires of life burst into blaze.
+
+But the boy with the axe had gone on ahead. And we were off again
+after him, stopping to get a great armful of black alder branches that
+were literally aflame with red berries.
+
+We were climbing a piny knoll when almost at our feet, jumping us
+nearly out of our skins, and warming the very roots of our hair, was a
+burrrr--burrrr--burrrr--burrrr--four big partridges--as if four big
+snow mines had exploded under us, hurling bunches of brown on graceful
+scaling wings over the dip of the hills!
+
+On we went up over the knoll and down into a low bog where, in the
+summer, we gather high-bush blueberries, the boy with the axe leading
+the way and going straight across the ice toward the middle of the
+bog.
+
+My eye was keen for signs, and soon I saw he was heading for a
+sweet-pepper bush with a broken branch. My eye took in another bush
+off a little to the right with a broken branch. The boy with the axe
+walked up to the broken sweet-pepper bush and drew a line on the ice
+between it and the bush off on the right, pacing along this line till
+he got the middle; then he started at right angles from it and paced
+off a line to a clump of cat-tails sticking up through the ice of the
+flooded bog. Halfway back on this line he stopped, threw off his coat
+and began to chop a hole about two feet square in the ice. Removing
+the block while I looked on, he rolled up his sleeve and reached down
+the length of his arm through the icy water.
+
+"Give me the shovel," he said, "it's down here," and with a few deep,
+dexterous cuts soon brought to the surface a beautiful cluster of
+pitcher plants, the strange, almost uncanny leaves filled with muddy
+water, but every pitcher of them intact, shaped and veined and tinted
+by a master potter's hand.
+
+We wrapped it all carefully in newspapers, and put it in the basket,
+starting back with our bouquet as cheerful and as full of joy in the
+season as we could possibly have been in June.
+
+No, I did not say that we love January as much as we love June.
+January here in New England is a mixture of rheumatism, chillblains,
+frozen water pipes, mittens, overshoes, blocked trains, and automobile
+troubles by the hoodsful, whereas any automobile will run in June. I
+have not room in this essay to tell all that June is; besides, this is
+a story of January.
+
+What I was saying is that we started home all abloom with our pitcher
+plants, and gold thread, and partridge berry, and holly, and black
+alder, all aglow inside with our vigorous tramp, with the grey, grave
+beauty of the landscape, with the stern joy of meeting and beating the
+cold, and with the signs of life--of the cosy muskrats in their lodge
+beneath the ice cap on the meadow; with the hairy woodpecker in his
+deep, warm hole in the heart of the tree; with the red-warm berries in
+our basket; with the chirping, the conquering chickadee accompanying
+us and singing--
+
+ "For well the soul, if stout within,
+ Can arm impregnably the skin;
+ And polar frost my form defied
+ Made of the air that blows outside."
+
+And actually as we came over the bleak meadow one of the boys said he
+thought he heard a song sparrow singing; and I thought the
+pussywillows by the brook had opened a little since we passed them
+coming out; and we all declared the weather had changed, and that
+there were signs of a break-up. But the thermometer stood at fifteen
+above zero when we got home--one degree colder than when we started!
+So we concluded that the January thaw must have come off inside of us;
+and if the colour of the four glowing faces is any sign, that was the
+correct reading of the weather.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOW MAN
+
+Hans Christian Andersen
+
+
+"It is so wonderfully cold that my whole body crackles!" said the Snow
+Man. "This is a kind of wind that can blow life into one; and how the
+gleaming one up yonder is staring at me." That was the sun he meant,
+which was just about to set. "It shall not make me wink--I shall
+manage to keep the pieces."
+
+He had two triangular pieces of tile in his head instead of eyes. His
+mouth was made of an old rake, and consequently was furnished with
+teeth.
+
+He had been born amid the joyous shouts of the boys, and welcomed by
+the sound of sledge bells and the slashing of whips.
+
+The sun went down, and the full moon rose, round, large, clear, and
+beautiful in the blue air.
+
+"There it comes again from the other side," said the Snow Man. He
+intended to say the sun is showing himself again.
+
+"Ah! I have cured him of staring. Now let him hang up there and shine,
+that I may see myself. If I only knew how I could manage to move from
+this place, I should like so much to move. If I could, I would slide
+along yonder on the ice, just as I see the boys slide; but I don't
+understand it; I don't know how to run."
+
+"Away! away!" barked the old Yard Dog. He was quite hoarse, and could
+not pronounce the genuine "Bow, wow." He had got the hoarseness from
+the time when he was an indoor dog, and lay by the fire. "The sun will
+teach you to run! I saw that last winter in your predecessor, and
+before that in his predecessor. Away! away! and away they all go."
+
+"I don't understand you, comrade," said the Snow Man.
+
+"That thing up yonder is to teach me to run?" He meant the moon. "Yes,
+it comes creeping from the other side."
+
+"You know nothing at all," retorted the Yard Dog. "But then you've
+only just been patched up. What you see yonder is the moon, and the
+one that went before the sun. It will come again to-morrow, and will
+teach you to run down into the ditch by the wall. We shall soon have a
+change of weather; I can feel that in my left hind leg, for it pricks
+and pains me; the weather is going to change."
+
+"I don't understand him," said the Snow Man; "but I have a feeling
+that he's talking about something disagreeable. The one who stared so
+just now, and whom he called the sun, is not my friend. I can feel
+that."
+
+"Away! Away!" barked the Yard Dog. "They told me I was a pretty little
+fellow: then I used to lie in a chair covered with velvet, up in
+master's house, and sit in the lap of the mistress of all. They used
+to kiss my nose, and wipe my paws with an embroidered handkerchief. I
+was called 'Ami--dear Ami--sweet Ami----.' But afterward I grew too
+big for them, and they gave me away to the housekeeper. So I came to
+live in the basement story. You can look into that from where you are
+standing, and you can see into the room where I was master; for I was
+master at the housekeeper's. It was certainly a smaller place than
+upstairs, but I was more comfortable and was not continually taken
+hold of and pulled about by children as I had been. I received just as
+much good food as ever, and even better. I had my own cushion, and
+there was a stove, the finest thing in the world at this season. I
+went under the stove, and could lie down quite beneath it. Ah! I will
+sometimes dream of that stove. Away! Away!"
+
+"Does a stove look so beautiful?" asked the Snow Man. "Is it at all
+like me?"
+
+"It's just the reverse of you. It's as black as a crow, and has a long
+neck and a brazen drum. It eats firewood, so that the fire spurts out
+of its mouth. One must keep at its side or under it, and there one is
+very comfortable. You can see it through the window from where you
+stand."
+
+And the Snow Man looked and saw a bright, polished thing, with a
+brazen drum, and the fire gleamed from the lower part of it. The Snow
+Man felt quite strangely; an odd emotion came over him; he knew not
+what it meant, and could not account for it, but all people who are
+not men know the feeling.
+
+"And why did you leave her?" asked the Snow Man, for it seemed to him
+that the stove must be of the female sex.
+
+"How could you quit such a comfortable place?"
+
+"I was obliged," replied the Yard Dog. "They turned me out of doors,
+and chained me up here. I had bitten the youngest young master in the
+leg, because he kicked away the bone I was gnawing. 'Bone for bone,' I
+thought. They took that very much amiss, and from that time I have
+been fastened to a chain and have lost my voice. Don't you hear how
+hoarse I am? Away! away! I can't talk any more like other dogs. Away!
+away! That was the end of the affair."
+
+But the Snow Man was no longer listening at him. He was looking in at
+the housekeeper's basement lodging, into the room where the stove
+stood on its four legs, just the same size as the Snow Man himself.
+
+"What a strange crackling within me!" he said. "Shall I ever get in
+there? It is an innocent wish, and our innocent wishes are certain to
+be fulfilled. I must go in there and lean against her, even if I have
+to break through the window."
+
+"You'll never get in there," said the Yard Dog; "and if you approach
+the stove you'll melt away--away!"
+
+"I am as good as gone," replied the Snow Man. "I think I am breaking
+up."
+
+The whole day the Snow Man stood looking in through the window. In the
+twilight hour the room became still more inviting; from the stove came
+a mild gleam, not like the sun nor like the moon; it was only as the
+stove can glow when he has something to eat. When the room door opened
+the flame started out of his mouth; this was a habit the stove had.
+The flame fell distinctly on the white face of the Snow Man, and
+gleamed red upon his bosom.
+
+"I can endure it no longer," said he. "How beautiful it looks when it
+stretches out its tongue!"
+
+The night was long; but it did not appear long to the Snow Man, who
+stood there lost in his own charming reflections, crackling with the
+cold.
+
+In the morning the window-panes of the basement lodging were covered
+with ice. They bore the most beautiful ice flowers that any snow man
+could desire; but they concealed the stove, which he pictured to
+himself as a lovely female. It crackled and whistled in him and around
+him; it was just the kind of frosty weather a snow man must thoroughly
+enjoy.
+
+But he did not enjoy it; and, indeed, how could he enjoy himself when
+he was stove-sick?
+
+"That's a terrible disease for a Snow Man," said the Yard Dog. "I have
+suffered from it myself, but I got over it. Away! away!" he barked;
+and he added, "the weather is going to change."
+
+And the weather did change; it began to thaw. The warmth increased,
+and the Snow Man decreased. He made no complaint--and that's an
+infallible sign.
+
+One morning he broke down. And, behold, where he had stood, something
+like a broomstick remained sticking up out of the ground. It was the
+pole around which the boys had built him up.
+
+"Ah! now I can understand why he had such an intense longing," said
+the Yard Dog. "Why, there's a shovel for cleaning out the stove-rake
+in his body, and that's what moved within him. Now he has got over
+that, too. Away, away!"
+
+And soon they had got over the winter.
+
+"Away! away!" barked the hoarse Yard Dog. And nobody thought any more
+of the Snow Man.
+
+
+
+
+THE HAPPY PRINCE
+
+Oscar Wilde
+
+
+High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy
+Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes
+he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his
+sword-hilt. He was very much admired, indeed.
+
+"He is as beautiful as a weathercock," remarked one of the Town
+Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic taste.
+"Only not quite so useful," he added, fearing lest people should think
+him unpractical, which he really was not.
+
+"Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?" asked a sensible mother of
+her little boy who was crying for the moon.
+
+"The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything."
+
+"I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,"
+muttered a disappointed man, as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
+
+"He looks just like an angel," said the charity children, as they came
+out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean
+white pinafores.
+
+"How do you know?" said Mathematical Master. "You have never seen
+one."
+
+"Ah! but we have in our dreams," answered the children; and the
+Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not
+approve of children dreaming.
+
+One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had
+gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he
+was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the
+spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and
+had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk
+to her.
+
+"Shall I love you?" said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point
+at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round
+her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples.
+This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
+
+"It is a ridiculous attachment," twittered the other Swallows, "she
+has no money, and far too many relations"; and, indeed, the river was
+quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away.
+
+After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his
+lady-love. "She has no conversation," he said, "and I am afraid that
+she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind." And,
+certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful
+curtsies.
+
+"I admit that she is domestic," he continued, "but I love traveling,
+and my wife, consequently, should love traveling, also."
+
+"Will you come away with me?" he said finally to her; but the Reed
+shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
+
+"You have been trifling with me," he cried. "I am off to the Pyramids.
+Good-bye!" and he flew away.
+
+All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city.
+"Where shall I put up?" he said; "I hope the town has made
+preparations."
+
+Then he saw the statue on the tall column. "I will put up there," he
+cried; "it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air." So he
+alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
+
+"I have a golden bedroom," he said softly to himself, as he looked
+round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his
+head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. "What a curious
+thing!" he cried, "there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars
+are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the
+north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain,
+but that was merely her selfishness."
+
+Then another drop fell.
+
+"What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?" he said.
+"I must look for a good chimney-pot," and he determined to fly away.
+
+But before he had opened his wings a third drop fell, and he looked
+up, and saw--Ah! what did he see?
+
+The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were
+running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the
+moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
+
+"Who are you?" he said.
+
+"I am the Happy Prince."
+
+"Why are you weeping then?" asked the Swallow; "you have quite
+drenched me."
+
+"When I was alive and had a human heart," answered the statue, "I did
+not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci,
+where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my
+companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the
+Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared
+to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My
+courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy, indeed, I was, if
+pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am
+dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness
+and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead,
+yet I cannot choose but weep."
+
+"What, is he not solid gold?" said the Swallow to himself. He was too
+polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
+
+"Far away," continued the statue in a low, musical voice, "far away in
+a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and
+through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and
+worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for
+she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin
+gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of-honour to wear at the
+next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is
+lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has
+nothing to give him but water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow,
+little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt?
+My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move."
+
+"I am waited for in Egypt," said the Swallow. "My friends are flying
+up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon
+they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there
+himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen and
+embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade,
+and his hands are like withered leaves."
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not
+stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty
+and the mother so sad."
+
+"I don't think I like boys," answered the Swallow. "Last summer, when
+I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller's
+sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of
+course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and, besides, I come of
+a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of
+disrespect."
+
+But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry.
+"It is very cold here," he said; "but I will stay with you for one
+night, and be your messenger."
+
+"Thank you, little Swallow," said the Prince.
+
+So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and
+flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
+
+He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were
+sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A
+beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. "How wonderful
+the stars are," he said to her, "and how wonderful is the power of
+love!" "I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball," she
+answered. "I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but
+the seamstresses are so lazy."
+
+He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of
+the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining
+with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he
+came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly
+on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he
+hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's
+thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead
+with his wings. "How cool I feel," said the boy, "I must be getting
+better," and he sank into a delicious slumber.
+
+Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he
+had done. "It is curious," he remarked, "but I feel quite warm now,
+although it is so cold."
+
+"That is because you have done a good action," said the Prince. And
+the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking
+always made him sleepy.
+
+When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. "What a
+remarkable phenomenon," said the professor of Ornithology as he was
+passing over the bridge. "A swallow in winter!" And he wrote a long
+letter about it to the local newspaper. Everyone quoted it; it was
+full of so many words that they could not understand.
+
+"To-night I go to Egypt," said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits
+at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long
+time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went, Sparrows
+chirruped, and said to each other, "What a distinguished stranger!"
+so he enjoyed himself very much.
+
+When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. "Have you any
+commissions for Egypt?" he cried. "I am just starting."
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not
+stay with me one night longer?"
+
+"I am waited for in Egypt," answered the Swallow. "To-morrow my
+friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches
+there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God
+Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star
+shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the
+yellow lions came down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes
+like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the
+cataract."
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "far away across
+the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk
+covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of
+withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as
+pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish
+a play for the Director of the Theater, but he is too cold to write
+any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him
+faint."
+
+"I will wait with you one night longer," said the Swallow, who really
+had a good heart. "Shall I take him another ruby?"
+
+"Alas! I have no ruby now," said the Prince; "my eyes are all that I
+have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of
+India a thousand years ago.
+
+"Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the
+jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play."
+
+"Dear Prince," said the Swallow, "I cannot do that."
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command
+you."
+
+So the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to the
+student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in
+the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young
+man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter
+of the bird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful
+sapphire lying on the withered violets.
+
+"I am beginning to be appreciated," he cried; "this is from some great
+admirer. Now I can finish my play," and he looked quite happy.
+
+The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast
+of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of
+the hold with ropes. "Heave a-hoy!" they shouted, as each chest came
+up: "I am going to Egypt!" cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and
+when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
+
+"I am come to bid you good-bye," he cried.
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "will you not
+stay with me one night longer?"
+
+"It is winter," answered the Swallow, "and the chill snow will soon be
+here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the
+crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions
+are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white
+doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I
+must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will
+bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given
+away. The ruby shall be redder than a rose, and the sapphire shall be
+as blue as the great sea."
+
+"In the square below," said the Happy Prince, "there stands a little
+match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are
+all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some
+money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her
+little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and
+her father will not beat her."
+
+"I will stay with you one night longer," said the Swallow, "but I
+cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then."
+
+"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "do as I command
+you."
+
+So he plucked out the Prince's other eye and darted down with it. He
+swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of
+her hand. "What a lovely bit of glass," cried the little girl; and
+she ran home, laughing.
+
+Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. "You are blind now," he
+said, "so I will stay with you always."
+
+"No, little Swallow," said the poor Prince, "you must go away to
+Egypt."
+
+"I will stay with you always," said the Swallow, and he slept at the
+Prince's feet.
+
+All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories
+of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises,
+who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile and catch gold-fish in
+their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and
+lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk
+slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their
+hands; of the King of the Mountains of the moon, who is as black as
+ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great, green snake that
+sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey
+cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large, flat
+leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
+
+"Dear little Swallow," said the Prince, "you tell me of marvelous
+things, but more marvelous than anything is the suffering of men and
+women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city,
+little Swallow, and tell me what you see there."
+
+So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry
+in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the
+gates. He flew into the dark lanes, and saw the white faces of
+starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under
+the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another's
+arms to try and keep themselves warm.
+
+"How hungry we are!" they said.
+
+"You must not lie here," shouted the watchman, and they wandered out
+into the rain.
+
+Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
+
+"I am covered with fine gold!" said the Prince, "you must take it off,
+leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that
+gold can make them happy."
+
+Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the
+Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the gold
+he brought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they
+laughed and played games in the street. "We have bread now!" they
+cried.
+
+Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets
+looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and
+glistening; long icicles, like crystal daggers, hung down from the
+eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys
+wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.
+
+The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave
+the Prince; he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the
+baker's door when the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself
+warm by flapping his wings.
+
+But at last he knew he was going to die. He had just strength to fly
+up to the Prince's shoulder once more.
+
+"Good-bye, dear Prince!" he murmured. "Will you let me kiss your
+hand?"
+
+"I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow," said
+the Prince. "You have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on
+the lips; for I love you."
+
+"It is not to Egypt that I am going," said the Swallow. "I am going to
+the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?"
+
+And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his
+feet. At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue as if
+something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped
+right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
+
+Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in
+company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked
+up at the statue. "Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!" he
+said.
+
+"How shabby, indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed
+with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.
+
+"The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is
+golden no longer," said the Mayor; "in fact, he is little better than
+a beggar!"
+
+"Little better than a beggar," said the Town Councillors. "And here is
+actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the Mayor. "We must
+really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die
+here." And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
+
+So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. "As he is no
+longer beautiful, he is no longer useful," said the Art Professor at
+the University.
+
+Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting
+of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. "We
+must have another statue, of course," he said, "and it shall be a
+statue of myself."
+
+"Of myself," said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarreled.
+
+"What a strange thing!" said the overseer of the workmen at the
+foundry. "This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must
+throw it away." So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead
+swallow was also lying.
+
+"Bring me the two most precious things in the city," said God to one
+of His angels; and the angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead
+bird.
+
+"You have rightly chosen," said God, "for in my garden of Paradise
+this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the
+Happy Prince shall praise me."
+
+
+
+
+THE LEGEND OF KING WENCESLAUS
+
+(A Legend of Mercy)
+
+
+ "Good King Wenceslaus looked out
+ On the Feast of Saint Stephen,
+ When the snow lay round about,
+ Deep and crisp and even."
+
+King Wenceslaus sat in his palace. He had been watching from the
+narrow window of the turret chamber where he was, the sunset as its
+glory hung for a moment in the western clouds, and then died away over
+the blue hills. Calm and cold was the brightness. A freezing haze came
+over the face of the land. The moon brightened towards the southwest
+and the leafless trees in the castle gardens and the quaint turret and
+spires of the castle itself threw clear dark shadows on the unspotted
+snow.
+
+Still the king looked out upon the scene before him. The ground
+sloped down from the castle towards the forest. Here and there on the
+side of the hill a few bushes grey with moss broke the unvaried sheet
+of white. And as the king turned his eye in that direction a poor man
+came up to these bushes and pulled something from them.
+
+"Come hither, page," called the king. One of the servants of the
+palace entered in answer to the king's call. "Come, my good Otto; come
+stand by me. Do you see yonder poor man on the hillside? Step down to
+him and learn who he is and where he dwells and what he is doing.
+Bring me word at once."
+
+Otto went forth on his errand while the good king watched him go down
+the hill. Meanwhile, the frost grew more and more intense and an east
+wind blew from the black mountains. The snow became more crisp and the
+air more clear. In a few moments the messenger was back.
+
+"Well, who is he?"
+
+"Sire," said Otto, "it is Rudolph, the swineherd,--he that lives down
+by the Brunweis. Fire he has none, nor food, and he was gathering a
+few sticks where he might find them, lest, as he says, all his family
+perish with the cold. It is a most bitter night, Sire."
+
+"This should have been better looked to," said the king. "A grievous
+fault it is that it has not been done. But it shall be amended now. Go
+to the ewery, Otto, and fetch some provisions of the best.
+
+ "Bring me flesh and bring me wine,
+ Bring me pine logs hither;
+ Thou and I will see him dine,
+ When we bear them hither."
+
+"Is your Majesty going forth?" asked Otto in surprise.
+
+"Yes, to the Brunweis, and you shall go with me. When you have
+everything ready meet me at the wood-stacks by the little chapel.
+Come, be speedy."
+
+"I pray you, Sire, do not venture out yourself. Let some of the
+men-at-arms go forth. It is a freezing wind and the place is a good
+league hence."
+
+"Nevertheless, I go," said the king. "Go with me, if you will, Otto;
+if not, stay. I can carry the food myself."
+
+"God forbid, Sire, that I should let you go alone. But I pray you be
+persuaded."
+
+"Not in this," said King Wenceslaus. "Meet me then where I said, and
+not a word to any one besides."
+
+The noblemen of the court were in the palace hall, where a mighty fire
+went roaring up the chimney and the shadows played and danced on the
+steep sides of the dark roof. Gayly they laughed and lightly they
+talked. And as they threw fresh logs into the great chimney-place one
+said to another that so bitter a wind had never before been known in
+the land. But in the midst of that freezing night the king went forth.
+
+ "Page and Monarch forth they went,
+ Forth they went together;
+ Through the rude wind's wild lament,
+ And the bitter weather."
+
+The king had put on no extra clothing to shelter himself from the
+nipping air; for he would feel with the poor that he might feel for
+them. On his shoulders he bore a heap of logs for the swineherd's
+fire. He stepped briskly on while Otto followed with the provisions.
+He had imitated his master and had gone out in his common garments. On
+the two trudged together, over the crisp snow, across fields, by lanes
+where the hedge trees were heavy with their white burden, past the
+pool, over the stile where the rime clustered thick by the wood, and
+on out upon the moor where the snow lay yet more unbroken and where
+the wind seemed to nip one's very heart.
+
+Still King Wenceslaus went on and still Otto followed. The king
+thought it but little to go forth into the frost and snow, remembering
+Him who came into the cold night of this world of ours; he disdained
+not, a king, to go to the beggar, for had not the King of King's
+visited slaves? He grudged not, a king, to carry logs on his
+shoulders, for had not the Kings of Kings borne heavier burdens for
+his sake?
+
+But at each step Otto's courage and zeal failed. He tried to hold out
+with a good heart. For very shame he did not wish to do less than his
+master. How could he turn back, while the king held on his way? But
+when they came forth on the white, bleak moor, he cried out with a
+faint heart:
+
+"My liege, I cannot go on. The wind freezes my very blood. Pray you,
+let us return."
+
+"Seems it so much?" asked the king. "Follow me on still. Only tread in
+my footsteps and you will proceed more easily."
+
+The servant knew that his master spoke not at random. He carefully
+looked for the footsteps of the king. He set his own feet in the print
+of his master's.
+
+ "In the master's steps he trod,
+ Where the snow lay dinted;
+ Heat was in the very sod
+ Which the saint had printed."
+
+And so great was the fire of love that kindled in the heart of the
+king that, as the servant trod in his steps, he gained life and heat.
+Otto felt not the wind; he heeded not the frost; for the master's
+footprints glowed as with holy fire and zealously he followed the king
+on his errand of mercy.
+
+
+
+
+MIDWINTER
+
+
+ The speckled sky is dim with snow,
+ The light flakes falter and fall slow;
+ Athwart the hill-top, rapt and pale,
+ Silently drops a silvery veil;
+ And all the valley is shut in
+ By flickering curtains grey and thin.
+
+ But cheerily the chickadee
+ Singeth to me on fence and tree;
+ The snow sails round him as he sings,
+ White as the down of angels' wings.
+
+ I watch the snowflakes as they fall
+ On bank and briar and broken wall;
+ Over the orchard, waste and brown,
+ All noiselessly they settle down,
+ Tipping the apple-boughs, and each
+ Light quivering twig of plum and peach.
+
+ On turf and curb and bower-roof
+ The snowstorm spreads its ivory woof;
+ It paves with pearl the garden walk;
+ And lovingly round tattered stalk
+ And shivering stem, its magic weaves
+ A mantle fair as lily-leaves.
+
+ The hooded beehive small and low,
+ Stands like a maiden in the snow;
+ And the old door-slab is half hid
+ Under an alabaster lid.
+
+ All day it snows; the sheeted post
+ Gleams in the dimness like a ghost;
+ All day the blasted oak has stood
+ A muffled wizard of the wood;
+ Garland and airy cap adorn
+ The sumach and the wayside thorn,
+ And clustering spangles lodge and shine
+ In the dark tresses of the pine.
+
+ The ragged bramble dwarfed and old,
+ Shrinks like a beggar in the cold;
+ In surplice white the cedar stands,
+ And blesses him with priestly hands.
+
+ Still cheerily the chickadee
+ Singeth to me on fence and tree:
+ But in my inmost ear is heard
+ The music of a holier bird;
+ And heavenly thoughts as soft and white
+ As snowflakes on my soul alight,
+ Clothing with love my lonely heart,
+ Healing with peace each bruised part,
+ Till all my being seems to be
+ Transfigured by their purity.
+
+ John Townsend Trowbridge.
+
+
+
+
+WHEN WINTER AND SPRING MET
+
+
+
+
+OLD WINTER
+
+
+ Old Winter sad, in snow yclad
+ Is making a doleful din;
+ But let him howl till he crack his jowl,
+ We will not let him in.
+
+ Ay, let him lift from the billowy drift
+ His hoary, haggard form,
+ And scowling stand, with his wrinkled hand
+ Outstretching to the storm.
+
+ And let his weird and sleety beard
+ Stream loose upon the blast,
+ And, rustling, chime to the tinkling rime
+ From his bald head falling fast.
+
+ Let his baleful breath shed blight and death
+ On herb and flower and tree;
+ And brooks and ponds in crystal bonds
+ Bind fast, but what care we?
+
+ Thomas Noel.
+
+
+
+
+THE SNOWBALL THAT DIDN'T MELT
+
+Jay T. Stocking
+
+
+ "Biff!
+ Flick!
+ Swat!
+ Smack!
+ Biff, biff!
+ Flick, flick!
+ Swat, swat!
+ Smack, smack!"
+
+It was a fine day in midwinter. The sun was just warm and bright
+enough to make the snow pack easily. The boys in the neighbourhood
+were having the liveliest kind of a snowball fight. So that is why
+there was this--
+
+ "Biff!
+ Flick!
+ Swat!
+ Smack!"
+
+And this--
+
+ "Biff, biff!
+ Flick, flick!
+ Swat, swat!
+ Smack, smack!"
+
+Everything ends some time. So this snowball fight did. One side or the
+other won,--I have forgotten which. The boys at the little
+brown-shingled house, where the fight took place, became very busy
+making balls for the next day's battle. You could hear the "pat--pat,
+pat--pat," as they rounded and packed the snowballs in their cold, red
+hands.
+
+When they became quite satisfied that they had enough on hand for a
+lively battle they piled the balls up in a neat pyramid just under the
+edge of the veranda and went off to look for something new to do.
+
+Then the snowballs fell to talking,--_if it is true_ that snowballs
+talk.
+
+"I wonder what they are going to do with us," said the top one. "I
+know what I'd _like_ to do. I'd like to hit the nose of that rough,
+freckle-faced boy who hit the nose of the boy who made me."
+
+"I know what I'd like," said the second. "I'd like to go right through
+the window of Old Grampy's house. Wouldn't he sputter!"
+
+"Oh! What's the fun in teasing a poor old man?" said another. "I'll
+tell you what _I'd_ like. _I'd_ like to hit the minister right in the
+middle of the back and see what he would do."
+
+"Hit the minister in the back!" said a lively-looking chap down in the
+middle of the pile. "Be a sport! I'd like to knock the policeman's hat
+off and see him chase the boy that threw me. That would be fun."
+
+It was, you see, a very bold and mischievous lot of balls, if one may
+judge from their big talk. And so it was probably well for the peace
+of the neighbourhood that the evening had scarcely fallen when,
+through a sudden change in the weather, snow, too, began to fall. All
+night long the snow fell, thicker and faster, thicker and faster. The
+wind rose and piled it in stacks. The house was banked to the
+windows, the veranda was heaped up high. The snowballs were buried
+deep,--so deep that the boys forgot them. It was spring before the
+thick covering of snow was melted enough so that they could see the
+light of day.
+
+It was a long time after this, when there came a day which meant much
+for at least one of that heap of snowballs.
+
+The sun was bright and hot; the grass was beginning to show green. The
+snow had all gone except in a few places on the cold side of the
+houses and under veranda edges. The snowballs were still piled neatly
+in the pyramid but they looked as if they might tumble down almost any
+minute. Although it was cool in their shady spot, every one of them
+was perspiring and several of them looked thin and pale. I fancy they
+had felt the heat, for all their lives they had been accustomed to a
+cooler climate.
+
+As they were busy mopping their brows and sighing for cooler weather
+they heard a sound, between a sigh and a faint moan. They heard it
+again and again. It was above their heads, out on the lawn, and not
+far away. It seemed to be in or around a shrub or bush, with a tall
+slender stem and a branching top.
+
+"What's that?" asked several of the balls at once.
+
+They stopped talking, and sighing, and listened. And as they did so,
+they could hear words very distinctly, though they were not nearly so
+loud as a whisper.
+
+ "Snowball, Snowball, come up here!
+ My head is hot, my throat feels queer:
+ I'm going to faint, I surely fear.
+ Won't some cool snowball come up here?"
+
+"Who are you?" asked Snowball Number One, who sat at the tiptop of the
+pile. "Where are you and what is your name?"
+
+ "I'm Life-of-the-Bush,
+ In the bush I dwell;
+ I know not my name,
+ And so I can't tell."
+
+"I can't see you," said Number One, as he looked intently up at the
+branches.
+
+ "You can't?" said the Bush,
+ "Then you must be blind.
+ I'm right up here,--
+ But never mind."
+
+The voice trailed off weakly; then they heard it again:
+
+ "I'm going to faint, I really fear.
+ Won't some kind snowball come up here?"
+
+"But you are up so high. How can one get there? We have neither a
+ladder nor wings and we do not know how to climb." Number One did most
+of the talking; he was nearest the bush.
+
+"I'll tell you how," said Life-of-the-Bush, stopping his rhyme and
+talking plainly and simply and sensibly. "Just roll down the slope on
+the lawn to the foot of this bush. Make yourself as small as small can
+be, creep down into the ground, and take an elevator, which is always
+running, and you will come directly up to me." The talking ceased, and
+the snowballs began to look at each other rather uneasily.
+
+"I can't go," said Number Two, who was in the second row from the
+top. "I always tan terribly in the sun. It's a long way down to the
+foot of the bush, and I should be brown as a berry before I got half
+way."
+
+"I can't go, either," said Number Three, by his side. "I don't tan,
+but I freckle, and freckles look dreadful on my fair complexion."
+
+"I'm sorry I can't go," said Number Four, from his place in the corner
+of the third row. "But I feel the heat terribly. My clothes are all
+sticking to me now."
+
+"It's simply out of the question for me," said a big fat snowball down
+near the ground. "I know I'd melt before I got there. There isn't much
+left of me now."
+
+Number One was one of the fairest snowballs of the bunch, but he was
+not afraid of freckles or tan. He was also one of the smallest of the
+lot. He looked down to the foot of the bush. It seemed a long way. The
+sun was certainly burning hot. He was not at all sure that he would
+live long enough in that sun to reach the bush. But some one should
+keep Life-of-the-Bush from fainting and he would try.
+
+He turned a quick somersault off the pile down to the ground.
+
+At just that moment something disturbed the whole pile and every ball
+in it tumbled down and out into the sun.
+
+As soon as Number One touched the ground, he began to roll over, and
+over, and over, as fast as ever he could. It didn't take him more than
+a minute to reach the foot of the bush. He remembered what
+Life-of-the-Bush had said, made himself just as small as small could
+be, crept down into the ground close to the stem and took the
+elevator, which seemed to be running all the time.
+
+It took quite a while to go up, but finally the elevator paused just
+long enough for him to get out. He found himself in a cool, rambling
+house, that seemed to be almost all long, narrow halls. They ran this
+way and that way and every--which--way. At one end of each hall, where
+the buds were opening, there were windows with green shades.
+Everything was very clean and sweet. Right in the middle of the house
+he found Life-of-the-Bush. He gave her a drink of water, which he had
+carried in his water-proof pocket and not only kept her from fainting
+but made her as lively and well and happy as ever.
+
+Life-of-the-Bush thanked the snowball a thousand times and gave him
+the freedom of her beautiful house.
+
+"Now that you are here," she said, "perhaps you will stay a while and
+help me build my house a little bigger. I must build leaves, and buds
+and branches and bark. I need your help."
+
+The snowball stayed and helped. He found it very exciting work. He
+worked all day and all night, ran here and there, and never stopped
+for meals. He packed buds and unfolded them; he pushed out the leaves
+and built out the ends of branches; he made bark, pressed it till it
+was hard and coloured it grey.
+
+Day after day he worked at his tasks as if they gave him the greatest
+joy in the world. But now and then Life-of-the-Bush saw him gazing out
+of the window, as if he were a bit homesick, to get out of doors
+again.
+
+"Stay with me a little longer," she said, "to help me build my
+blossoms, and then I will send you out of doors on a beautiful errand
+to stay as long as your heart desires."
+
+So Snowball stayed and helped Life-of-the-Bush build her blossoms.
+Basket after basket of white stuff, as white as snowflakes but ever so
+much smaller, he carried out to the ends of the branches. Jar after
+jar of perfume he carried, too, until the blossoms were quite
+complete.
+
+Then one evening--it was the last of May, or early
+June--Life-of-the-Bush called him.
+
+"To-morrow," she said, "there is to be a great Garden Festival. A
+prize is to be given for the most original and beautiful blossom. All
+the flowers of the season will be here in the garden. You have been a
+good friend and a faithful helper. For reward, you may go to the
+Festival and stay as long as your heart desires."
+
+"But how shall I go?" queried the snowball.
+
+"Right out through the end of one of my branches," said
+Life-of-the-Bush.
+
+"But I shall fall off," said the snowball.
+
+"I'll tie you on with a stout string, so that not even the wind can
+blow you off."
+
+"But it's hot outside. I shall melt."
+
+"O, no. I've changed you so the hottest sun cannot melt you."
+
+"But how can I get out through the end of the branch?" asked the
+snowball, who could not get it through his head that he could really
+get out to the end of a branch and stay there all day and not fall off
+or melt.
+
+"Make yourself very small, just as small as when you came up to me and
+you can go out as easily as you run along these halls," said
+Life-of-the-Bush.
+
+The snowball became quite excited. The Festival was to begin very
+early in the morning. Besides he wanted to see, if he could, what had
+become of the other snowballs. So he decided that he would go out on
+the branch that night, while it was dark, and be there for the whole
+day's fun.
+
+So he made himself very small, ran along the hall, crept out through
+a tiny green door and found himself tied securely to a swaying branch.
+The air was cool and sweet. He didn't melt, as he half-feared he
+might, and he didn't fall off. He looked around. Yes, this was the
+very bush he had seen before, but it was greener now. Morning came and
+the great Festival. The garden was full of flowers and folks.
+
+ There were lilacs and lilies of shades manifold
+ There were daisies, and daffodils, yellow as gold.
+ There were pansies, and peonies, red, white and pink,
+ And every such flower of which you can think.
+
+ You ought to have heard the "Ah's!" and the "Oh's!"
+ Of all the fine people in all their fine clothes.
+ You ought to have seen that wonderful sight,
+ For no rhyme of mine can describe it half right.
+
+People went from bush to bush and from flower to flower. They could
+not for the life of them tell which blossom they thought most
+beautiful and original.
+
+The judges wandered about uncertainly with the ribbons in their
+pockets not knowing to what plant or bush to tie them.
+
+The snowball grew very much interested, not to say excited, to see
+what blossom would finally win the prize.
+
+He noticed that groups of people continually stopped before the bush
+on which he hung. Apparently they admired it. He soon discovered that
+they were looking at him and was quite embarrassed.
+
+"Look!" he kept hearing them say. "See this snowball,--and it doesn't
+melt! Why, it's growing on the bush; it's a blossom!" That was the
+first that _he_ knew that Life-of-the-Bush had changed him from a
+snowball into a flower snowball. Of course he became very happy and
+twice as excited.
+
+Indeed, he could hardly breathe from excitement, when the judges came
+over, in a group, to where he grew. They looked at him and at the
+bush. Apparently they had never seen blossoms of this kind before.
+
+"I never saw such a big, round, white blossom before," he heard one
+of them say, as he drew a blue ribbon from his pocket and tied it to
+the stem on which he hung. He knew and soon, of course, everybody knew
+that the "Snowball Bush" had won the prize. His heart beat so fast
+that he thought he was growing red in the face. _Perhaps he was
+melting!_ But he wasn't, for he heard a girl say just then, as she
+passed, "How white and cool it looks!"
+
+Snowball Number One had often wondered what had happened to his
+friends, the other snowballs. One reason why he had been anxious to
+get out of the bush was to find out, if he could, what had become of
+them all. But the doings of the day had driven all thought of them out
+of his busy head.
+
+Now, as the people began to leave the garden, and excitement grew
+less, he remembered and looked about him. Here was the yard in which
+the boys made him. There was the very place under the edge of the
+veranda where he had spent the winter and where they had all stood
+that spring morning when Life-of-the-Bush called to them. There was
+the place, almost under him, where he knew they had all tumbled down
+the moment he left them. But not a trace of a snowball could be seen.
+
+Of course not! They had all disappeared long ago, the very day,
+indeed, in which they tumbled down. Before noon the hot sun had melted
+them, every one, and carried them away, tan and freckles and all, and
+no one ever heard of them again.
+
+Number One, who ran right out into the sun, was the only snowball that
+didn't melt.
+
+
+
+
+GAU-WI-DI-NE AND GO-HAY, WINTER AND SPRING
+
+(Iroquois Legend)
+
+
+The snow mountain lifted its head close to the sky; the clouds wrapped
+around it their floating drifts which held the winter's hail and
+snowfalls, and with scorn it defied the sunlight which crept over its
+height, slow and shivering on its way to the valleys.
+
+Close at the foot of the mountain, an old man had built him a lodge
+"for a time," said he, as he packed it around with great blocks of
+ice. Within he stored piles of wood and corn and dried meat and fish.
+No person, animal, nor bird could enter this lodge, only North Wind,
+the only friend the old man had. Whenever strong and lusty North Wind
+passed the lodge he would scream "ugh-e-e-e, ugh-e-e-e," as with a
+blast of his blusterings he passed over the earth.
+
+But North Wind came only seldom to the lodge. He was too busy
+searching the corners of the earth and driving the snow and the hail,
+but when he had wandered far and was in need of advice, he would visit
+the lodge to smoke and counsel with the old man about the next
+snowfall, before journeying to his home in the north sky; and they
+would sit by the fire which blazed and glowed yet could not warm them.
+
+The old man's bushy whiskers were heavy with the icicles which clung
+to them, and when the blazing fire flared its lights, illuminating
+them with the warm hues of the summer sunset, he would rave as he
+struck them down, and glare with rage as they fell snapping and
+crackling at his feet.
+
+One night, as together they sat smoking and dozing before the fire, a
+strange feeling of fear came over them, the air seemed growing warmer
+and the ice began to melt. Said North Wind:
+
+"I wonder what warm thing is coming, the snow seems vanishing and
+sinking lower in the earth." But the old man cared not, and was
+silent. He knew his lodge was strong, and he chuckled with scorn as he
+bade North Wind abandon his fears and depart for his home. But North
+Wind went drifting the fast-falling snow higher on the mountain until
+it groaned under its heavy burden, and scolding and blasting, his
+voice gradually died away. Still the old man remained silent and moved
+not, but, lost in thought, sat looking into the fire, when there came
+a loud knock at his door. "Some foolish breath of North Wind is
+wandering," thought he, and he heeded it not.
+
+Again came the rapping, but swifter and louder, and a pleading voice
+begged to come in.
+
+Still the old man remained silent, and, drawing nearer to the fire,
+quieted himself for sleep; but the rapping continued, louder, fiercer,
+and increased his anger. "Who dares approach the door of my lodge?" he
+shrieked. "You are not North Wind, who alone can enter here. Begone!
+no refuge here for trifling winds; go back to your home in the sky."
+But, as he spoke, the strong bar securing the door fell from its
+fastening, the door swung open and a stalwart young warrior stood
+before him shaking the snow from his shoulders as he noiselessly
+closed the door.
+
+Safe within the lodge, the warrior heeded not the old man's anger, but
+with a cheerful greeting drew close to the fire, extending his hands
+to its ruddy blaze, when a glow as of summer illumined the lodge. But
+the kindly greeting and the glowing light served only to incense the
+old man, and rising in rage, he ordered the warrior to depart.
+
+"Go!" he exclaimed. "I know you not. You have entered my lodge and you
+bring a strange light. Why have you forced my lodge door? You are
+young, and youth has no need of my fire. When I enter my lodge, all
+the earth sleeps. You are strong, with the glow of sunshine on your
+face. Long ago I buried the sunshine beneath the snowdrifts. Go! you
+have no place here.
+
+"Your eyes bear the gleam of the summer stars. North Wind blew out the
+summer star-lights moons ago. Your eyes dazzle my lodge, your breath
+does not smoke in chill vapour, but comes from your lips soft and
+warm; it will melt my lodge. You have no place here.
+
+"Your hair so soft and fine, streaming back like the night shades,
+will weave my lodge into tangles. You have no place here.
+
+"Your shoulders are bare and white as the snowdrifts. You have no furs
+to cover them; depart from my lodge. See, as you sit by my fire, how
+it draws away from you. Depart, I say, from my lodge!"
+
+But the young warrior only smiled, and asked that he might remain to
+fill his pipe; and they sat down by the fire. Then the old man became
+garrulous and began to boast of his great powers.
+
+"I am powerful and strong," said he. "I send North Wind to blow all
+over the earth and its waters stop to listen to his voice as he
+freezes them fast asleep. When I touch the sky the snow hurries down
+and the hunters hide by their lodge fires; the birds fly scared, and
+the animals creep to their caves. When I lay my hand on the land, I
+harden it still as the rocks; nothing can forbid me nor loosen my
+fetters. You, young warrior, though you shine like the Sun, you have
+no power. Go! I give you a chance to escape me, but I could blow my
+breath and fold around you a mist which would turn you to ice forever!
+
+"I am not a friend to the Sun, who grows pale and cold and flees to
+the Southland when I come; yet I see his glance in your face, where no
+winter shadows hide. My North Wind will soon return; he hates the
+summer and will bind fast its hands. You fear me not, and smile
+because you know me not. Young man, listen. I am Gau-wi-di-ne, Winter!
+Now fear me and depart. Pass from my lodge and go out to the wind."
+
+But the young warrior moved not; he only smiled as he refilled the
+pipe for the trembling old man, saying, "Here, take your pipe; it will
+soothe you and make you stronger for a little while longer;" and he
+packed the o-yan-kwa[A] deep and hard in the pipe.
+
+ [A] Indian tobacco.
+
+Said the warrior, "Now you must smoke for me, smoke for Youth and
+Spring! I fear not your boasting; you are aged and slow while I am
+young and strong. I hear the voice of South Wind. Your North Wind
+hears, and Spirit of the Winds is hurrying him back to his home. Wrap
+you up warm while yet the snowdrifts cover the earth path, and flee to
+your lodge in the north sky. I am here now, and you shall know me. I,
+too, am powerful!
+
+"When I lift my hand, the sky opens wide and I waken the sleeping Sun,
+which follows me warm and glad. I touch the earth and it grows soft
+and gentle, and breathes strong and swift as my South Wind ploughs
+under the snows to loosen your grasp. The trees in the forest welcome
+my voice and send out their buds to my hand. When my breezes blow my
+long hair to the clouds, they send down gentle showers that whisper to
+the grasses to grow.
+
+"I came not to tarry long in my peace talk with you, but to smoke with
+you and warn you that the sun is waiting for me to open its door. You
+and the North Wind have built your lodge strong, but each wind, the
+North and the East, and the West, and the South, has its time for the
+earth. Now South Wind is calling me; return you to your big lodge in
+the sky. Travel quick on your way that you may not fall in the path
+of the Sun. See! It is now sending down its arrows broad and strong!"
+
+The old man saw and trembled. He seemed fading smaller, and grown too
+weak to speak, could only whisper, "Young warrior, who are you?"
+
+In a voice that breathed soft as the breath of wild blossoms, he
+answered: "I am Go-hay, Spring! I have come to rule, and my lodge now
+covers the earth! I have talked to your mountain and it has heard; I
+have called the South Wind and it is near; the Sun is awake from its
+winter sleep and summons me quick and loud. Your North Wind has fled
+to his north sky; you are late in following. You have lingered too
+long over your peace pipe and its smoke now floats far away. Haste
+while yet there is time that you may lose not your trail."
+
+And Go-hay began singing the Sun song as he opened the door of the
+lodge. Hovering above it was a great bird, whose wings seemed blown by
+a strong wind, and while Go-hay continued to sing, it flew down to the
+lodge and folding Gau-wi-di-ne to its breast, slowly winged away to
+the north, and when the Sun lifted its head in the east it beheld the
+bird disappearing behind the far-away sky. The Sun glanced down where
+Gau-wi-di-ne had built his lodge, whose fire had burned but could not
+warm, and a bed of young blossoms lifted their heads to the touch of
+its beams.
+
+Where the wood and the corn and the dried meat and fish had been
+heaped, a young tree was leafing, and a blue bird was trying its wings
+for a nest. And the great ice mountain had melted to a swift running
+river which sped through the valley bearing its message of the
+springtime.
+
+Gau-wi-di-ne had passed his time, and Go-hay reigned over the earth!
+
+
+
+
+NAMING THE WINDS
+
+(Indian Legend)
+
+
+Ga-oh the great master of the winds decided to choose his helpers from
+the animals of the earth. He blew a strong blast that shook the rocks
+and hills and when his reverberating call had ceased its thunderous
+echoes he opened the north gate wide across the sky and called
+Ya-o-gah, the Bear.
+
+Lumbering over the mountains as he pushed them from his path,
+Ya-o-gah, the bulky bear, who had battled the boisterous winds as he
+came, took his place at Ga-oh's gate and waited the mission of his
+call. Said Ga-oh, "Ya-o-gah, you are strong; you can freeze the waters
+with your cold breath; in your broad arms you can carry the wild
+tempests, and clasp the whole earth when I bid you destroy. I will
+place you in my far North, there to watch the herd of my winter winds
+when I loose them in the sky. You shall be North Wind. Enter your
+home." And the bear lowered his head for the leash with which Ga-oh
+bound him, and submissively took his place in the north sky.
+
+In a gentler voice Ga-oh called Ne-o-ga, the Fawn, and a soft breeze
+as of the summer crept over the sky; the air grew fragrant with the
+odour of flowers, and there were voices as of babbling brooks telling
+the secrets of the summer to the tune of birds, as Ne-o-ga came
+proudly lifting her head.
+
+Said Ga-oh, "You walk with the summer sun, and know all its paths; you
+are gentle, and kind as the sunbeam, and will rule my flock of the
+summer winds in peace. You shall be the South Wind. Bend your head
+while I leash you to the sky, for you are swift, and might return from
+me to the earth." And the gentle Fawn followed Ga-oh to his great gate
+which opens the south sky.
+
+Again Ga-oh trumpeted a shrill blast, and all the sky seemed
+threatening; an ugly darkness crept into the clouds that sent them
+whirling in circles of confusion. A quarrelsome, shrieking voice
+snarled through the air, and with a sound as of great claws tearing
+the heavens into rifts, Da-jo-ji, the Panther, sprang to the gate.
+
+Said Ga-oh, "You are ugly, and fierce, and can fight the strong
+storms; you can climb the high mountains, and tear down the forests;
+you can carry the whirlwind on your strong back, and toss the great
+sea waves high in the air, and snarl at the tempests if they stray
+from my gate. You shall be the West Wind. Go to the west sky, where
+even the Sun will hurry to hide when you howl your warning to the
+night." And Da-jo-ji, dragging his leash as he stealthily crept along,
+followed Ga-oh to the furthermost west sky.
+
+Yet Ga-oh rested not. The earth was flat, and in each of its four
+corners he must have an assistant. One corner yet remained, and again
+Ga-oh's strong blast shook the earth. And there arose a moan like the
+calling of a lost mate; the sky shivered in a cold rain; the whole
+earth clouded in mist; a crackling sound as of great horns crashing
+through the forest trees dinned the air, and O-yan-do-ne, the Moose,
+stood stamping his hoofs at the gate.
+
+Said Ga-oh, as he strung a strong leash around his neck, "Your breath
+blows the mist, and can lead the cold rains; your horns spread wide,
+and can push back the forests to widen the path for my storms as with
+your swift hoofs you race with my winds. You shall be the East Wind,
+and blow your breath to chill the young clouds as they float through
+the sky." Said Ga-oh as he led him to the east sky, "Here you shall
+dwell forevermore."
+
+Thus, with his assistants, does Ga-oh control his storms. And although
+he must ever remain in his sky lodge, his will is supreme, and his
+faithful assistants will obey!
+
+
+
+
+NORTH WIND'S FROLIC
+
+
+In a large, airy castle on the borders of a country far away, lived
+the King of the Winds with his four children, North Wind, South Wind,
+East Wind, and West Wind. They were a happy family, for the four
+children were always making merry with the old Wind King.
+
+North Wind, however, was a boisterous fellow, forever causing disorder
+even in their play.
+
+One summer day North Wind said that he was going out of the castle for
+a frolic.
+
+"Go," called out the King, "but be careful, North Wind, what you do.
+Your pranks are all very well while you are in the castle here, but
+out in the world they may do great harm."
+
+"Woo--oo--oo----," was all the King heard in answer, and away
+blustered North Wind out of the castle to the garden near by.
+
+The roses and lilies were just in bloom, and the ripe peaches hung on
+the trees ready to be picked.
+
+"Woo--oo--oo----," cried the North Wind in his loudest voice, and in a
+moment the rose petals were scattered all over the ground, the lilies
+were broken from their stems, and the ripe peaches dropped down right
+into the mud.
+
+In the fields he caused even greater damage. He broke the wheat stems,
+threw the unripe apples about. He tore the leaves from their branches
+and tossed them about in the air in all directions. Indeed, one old
+tree he completely uprooted.
+
+The people could stand it no longer. They went to the King of the
+Winds, who, in his castle had control over the coming and going of all
+the Winds, and told him what the wicked North Wind had done and how
+the garden and fields had suffered from the misery he had caused them.
+
+"I will summon North Wind," said his father. "He shall answer for all
+this."
+
+When North Wind appeared, the King repeated what the people had said.
+"Is this true, North Wind?" he asked.
+
+North Wind could not deny it, for the devastated garden and fields lay
+before every one's eyes.
+
+"Why did you do it?" asked the King.
+
+"Oh," answered North Wind, "I didn't mean it wickedly. I wanted to
+play with the roses and the lilies and the peaches--and all the rest.
+I didn't think I would do them any harm."
+
+"I see," said the King. "If you are such a clumsy fellow, then I do
+not dare to let you out for a frolic again. I must keep you a prisoner
+in the castle the whole summer. In the winter, when there are no more
+flowers and fruit, you may go out and be as boisterous as you like. I
+see you are fit only for the time of ice and snow and not for flowers
+and fruit."
+
+
+
+
+THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT
+
+Christina Rossetti
+
+
+ _Boys_
+
+ January
+ March
+ July
+ August
+ October
+ December
+
+ _Girls_
+
+ February
+ April
+ May
+ June
+ September
+ November
+
+ Robin Redbreast; Lambs and Sheep; Nightingale and Nestlings;
+ various Flowers, Fruits, etc.
+
+SCENE:--_A Cottage with its grounds._
+
+(_A room in a large comfortable cottage; a fire burning on the hearth;
+a table on which the breakfast things have been left standing. JANUARY
+discovered seated by the fire._)
+
+JANUARY
+
+ Cold the day and cold the drifted snow,
+ Dim the day until the cold dark night.
+
+(_Stirs the fire_)
+
+ Crackle, sparkle, faggot; embers glow:
+ Some one may be plodding through the snow
+ Longing for a light,
+ For the light that you and I can show.
+ If no one else should come,
+ Here Robin Redbreast's welcome to a crumb,
+ And never troublesome:
+ Robin, why don't you come and fetch your crumb?
+
+ Here's butter for my hunch of bread,
+ And sugar for your crumb;
+ Here's room upon the hearthrug,
+ If you'll only come.
+
+ In your scarlet waistcoat,
+ With your keen bright eye,
+ Where are you loitering?
+ Wings were made to fly!
+
+ Make haste to breakfast,
+ Come and fetch your crumb,
+ For I'm as glad to see you
+ As you are glad to come.
+
+(_Two Robin Redbreasts are seen tapping with their beaks at the
+lattice, which JANUARY opens. The birds flutter in, hop about the
+floor, and peck up the crumbs and sugar thrown to them. They have
+scarcely finished their meal when a knock is heard at the door.
+JANUARY hangs a guard in front of the fire, and opens to FEBRUARY, who
+appears with a bunch of snowdrops in her hand._)
+
+ Good-morrow, sister.
+
+FEBRUARY
+
+ Brother, joy to you!
+ I've brought some snowdrops; only just a few,
+ But quite enough to prove the world awake,
+ Cheerful and hopeful in the frosty dew
+ And for the pale sun's sake.
+
+(_She hands a few of her snowdrops to JANUARY, who retires into the
+background. While FEBRUARY stands arranging the remaining snowdrops in
+a glass of water on the window-sill, a soft butting and bleating are
+heard outside. She opens the door, and sees one foremost lamb with
+other sheep and lambs bleating and crowding towards her._)
+
+ O you, you little wonder, come--come in,
+ You wonderful, you woolly soft white lamb:
+ You panting mother ewe, come too,
+ And lead that tottering twin
+ Safe in:
+ Bring all your bleating kith and kin,
+ Except the horny ram.
+
+(_FEBRUARY opens a second door in the background, and the little flock
+files through into a warm and sheltered compartment out of sight._)
+
+ The lambkin tottering in its walk
+ With just a fleece to wear;
+ The snowdrop drooping on its stalk
+ So slender,--
+ Snowdrop and lamb, a pretty pair,
+ Braving the cold for our delight,
+ Both white
+ Both tender.
+
+(_A rattling of doors and windows; branches seen without, tossing
+violently to and fro._)
+
+ How the doors rattle, and the branches sway!
+ Here brother March comes whirling on his way
+ With winds that eddy and sing:--
+
+(_She turns the handle of the door, which bursts open, and discloses
+MARCH hastening up, both hands full of violets and anemones._)
+
+ Come, show me what you bring;
+ For I have said my say, fulfilled my day,
+ And must away.
+
+MARCH
+
+(_Stopping short on the threshold_)
+
+ I blow an arouse
+ Through the world's wide house
+ To quicken the torpid earth;
+ Grappling I fling
+ Each feeble thing,
+ But bring strong life to the birth.
+ I wrestle and frown,
+ And topple down;
+ I wrench, I rend, I uproot;
+ Yet the violet
+ Is born where I set
+ The sole of my flying foot.
+
+(_Hands violet and anemones to FEBRUARY, who retires into the
+background._)
+
+ And in my wake
+ Frail wind-flowers quake,
+ And the catkins promise fruit.
+ I drive ocean ashore
+ With rush and roar,
+ And he cannot say me nay:
+ My harpstrings all
+ Are the forests tall,
+ Making music when I play.
+
+(_Before MARCH has done speaking, a voice is heard approaching
+accompanied by a twittering of birds. APRIL comes along singing, and
+stands outside and out of sight to finish her song._)
+
+APRIL
+
+(_Outside_)
+
+ Pretty little three
+ Sparrows in a tree,
+ Light upon the wing;
+ Though you cannot sing
+ You can chirp of Spring:
+ Chirp of Spring to me,
+ Sparrows, from your tree.
+
+ Never mind the showers,
+ Chirp about the flowers
+ While you build a nest:
+ Straws from east and west,
+ Feathers from your breast,
+ Make the snuggest bowers
+ In a world of flowers.
+
+(_Appearing at the open door_)
+
+ Good-morrow and good-bye: if others fly,
+ Of all the flying months you're the most flying.
+
+MARCH
+
+ You're hope and sweetness, April.
+
+APRIL
+
+ I've a rainbow in my showers
+ And a lapful of flowers,
+ And these dear nestlings aged three hours;
+ And here's their mother sitting;
+ Their father's merely flitting
+ To find their breakfast somewhere in my bowers.
+
+(_As she speaks APRIL shows MARCH her apron full of flowers and nest
+full of birds. MARCH wanders away into the grounds. APRIL, without
+entering the cottage, hangs over the hungry nestlings watching them.
+MAY arrives unperceived by APRIL, and gives her a kiss. APRIL starts
+and looks round._)
+
+ Ah, May, good-morrow, May, and so good-bye.
+
+MAY
+
+ That's just your way, sweet April, smile and sigh:
+ Your sorrow's half in fun,
+ Begun and done
+ And turned to joy while twenty seconds run.
+ I've gathered flowers all as I came along,
+ At every step a flower
+ Fed by your last bright shower,--
+
+(_She divides an armful of all sorts of flowers with APRIL, who
+strolls away through the garden._)
+
+ And gathering flowers I listened to the song
+ Of every bird in bower.
+
+ Here are my buds of lily and rose,
+ And here's my namesake blossom may;
+ And from a watery spot
+ See here forget-me-not,
+ With all that blows
+ To-day.
+
+(_JUNE appears at the further end of the garden, coming slowly
+towards MAY, who, seeing her, exclaims:_)
+
+ Surely you're come too early, sister June.
+
+JUNE
+
+ Indeed I feel as if I came too soon
+ To round your young May moon
+ And set the world a-gasping at my noon.
+ Yet come I must. So here are strawberries
+ Sun-flushed and sweet, as many as you please;
+ And here are full-blown roses by the score,
+ More roses, and yet more.
+
+(_MAY, eating strawberries, withdraws among the flower beds. JUNE
+seats herself in the shadow of a laburnum._)
+
+ Or if I'm lulled by note of bird and bee,
+ Or lulled by noontide's silence deep,
+ I need but nestle down beneath my tree
+ And drop asleep.
+
+(_JUNE falls asleep; and is not awakened by the voice of JULY, who,
+behind the scenes, is heard, half singing, half calling._)
+
+JULY
+
+(_Behind the scenes_)
+
+ Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled,
+ Which will you take? yellow, blue, speckled!
+
+ Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow,
+ Each in its way has not a fellow.
+
+(_Enter JULY, a basket of many-coloured irises slung upon his
+shoulders, a bunch of ripe grass in one hand, and a plate piled full
+of peaches balanced upon the other. He steals up to JUNE, and tickles
+her with the grass. She wakes._)
+
+JUNE
+
+ What, here already?
+
+JULY
+
+ Nay, my tryst is kept;
+ The longest day slipped by you while you slept.
+ I've brought you one curved pyramid of bloom,
+
+(_Hands her the plate_)
+
+ Not flowers but peaches, gathered where the bees,
+ As downy, bask and boom
+ In sunshine and in gloom of trees.
+ But get you in, a storm is at my heels;
+ The whirlwind whistles and wheels,
+ Lightning flashes and thunder peals,
+ Flying and following hard upon my heels.
+
+(_JUNE takes shelter in a thickly-woven arbour_)
+
+ The roar of a storm sweeps up
+ From the east to the lurid west,
+ The darkening sky, like a cup,
+ Is filled with rain to the brink;
+ The sky is purple and fire,
+ Blackness and noise and unrest;
+ The earth, parched with desire
+ Opens her mouth to drink.
+ Have done with thunder and fire,
+ O sky with the rainbow crest;
+ O earth, have done with desire,
+ Drink, and drink deep, and rest.
+
+(_Enter AUGUST, carrying a sheaf made up of different kinds of
+grain._)
+
+ Hail, brother August, flushed and warm
+ And scathless from my storm,
+ Your hands are full of corn, I see,
+ As full as hands can be:
+ And earth and air both smell as sweet as balm
+ In their recovered calm,
+ And that they owe to me.
+
+(_JULY retires into a shrubbery_)
+
+AUGUST
+
+ Wheat sways heavy, oats are airy,
+ Barley bows a graceful head,
+ Short and small shoots up canary,
+ Each of these is some one's bread;
+ Bread for man or bread for beast,
+ Or, at very least,
+ A bird's savoury feast.
+
+(_AUGUST descries SEPTEMBER toiling across the lawn_)
+
+ My harvest home is ended; and I spy
+ September drawing nigh,
+ With the first thought of Autumn in her eye,
+ And the first sigh
+ Of Autumn wind among her locks that fly.
+
+(_SEPTEMBER arrives, carrying upon her head a basket heaped high with
+fruit_)
+
+SEPTEMBER
+
+ Unload me, brother. I have brought a few
+ Plums and these pears for you,
+ A dozen kinds of apples, one or two
+ Melons, some figs all bursting through
+ Their skins, and pearled with dew
+ These damsons violet-blue.
+
+(_While SEPTEMBER is speaking, AUGUST lifts the basket to the ground,
+selects various fruits, and withdraws slowly along the gravel walk,
+eating a pear as he goes._)
+
+ My song is half a sigh
+ Because my green leaves die;
+ Sweet are my fruits, but all my leaves are dying;
+ And well may Autumn sigh,
+ And well may I
+ Who watch the sere leaves flying.
+
+(_OCTOBER enters briskly, some leafy twigs bearing different sorts of
+nuts in one hand, and a long ripe hop-bine trailing after him from the
+other. A dahlia is stuck in his buttonhole._)
+
+OCTOBER
+
+ Nay, cheer up, sister. Life is not quite over,
+ Even if the year has done with corn and clover,
+ With flowers and leaves; besides, in fact, it's true
+ Some leaves remain and some flowers too.
+ For me and you.
+ Now see my crops:
+
+(_Offering his produce to SEPTEMBER_)
+
+ I've brought you nuts and hops;
+ And when the leaf drops, why, the walnut drops.
+
+(_OCTOBER wreathes the hop-bine about SEPTEMBER'S neck, and gives her
+the nut twigs. They enter the cottage together, but without shutting
+the door. She steps into the background; he advances to the hearth,
+removes the guard, stirs up the smouldering fire, and arranges several
+chestnuts ready to roast._)
+
+ Crack your first nut and light your first fire,
+ Roast your first chestnut crisp on the bar;
+ Make the logs sparkle, stir the blaze higher,
+ Logs are cheery as sun or as star,
+ Logs we can find wherever we are.
+ Spring one soft day will open the leaves,
+ Spring one bright day will lure back the flowers;
+ Never fancy my whistling wind grieves,
+ Never fancy I've tears in my showers:
+ Dance, nights and days! and dance on, my hours!
+
+(_Sees NOVEMBER approaching_)
+
+ Here comes my youngest sister, looking dim
+ And grim
+ With dismal ways.
+ What cheer, November?
+
+NOVEMBER
+
+(_Entering and shutting the door_)
+
+ Nought have I to bring,
+ Tramping a-chill and shivering,
+ Except these pine cones for a blaze,--
+ Except a fog which follows,
+ And stuffs up all the hollows,--
+ Except a hoar frost here and there,--
+ Except some shooting stars
+ Which dart their luminous cars
+ Trackless and noiseless through the keen night air.
+
+(_OCTOBER, shrugging his shoulders, withdraws into the background,
+while NOVEMBER throws her pine cones on the fire, and sits down
+listlessly._)
+
+ The earth lies asleep, grown tired
+ Of all that's high or deep;
+ There's nought desired and nought required
+ Save a sleep.
+ I rock the cradle of the earth,
+ I lull her with a sigh;
+ And know that she will wake to mirth
+ By and by.
+
+(_Through the window DECEMBER is seen running and leaping in the
+direction of the door. He knocks._)
+
+ Ah, here's my youngest brother come at last:
+
+(_Calls out without rising._)
+
+ Come in, December.
+
+(_He opens the door and enters, loaded with evergreens in berry,
+etc._)
+
+ Come, and shut the door,
+ For now it's snowing fast;
+ It snows, and will snow more and more;
+ Don't let it drift in on the floor.
+ But you, you're all aglow; how can you be
+ Rosy and warm and smiling in the cold?
+
+DECEMBER
+
+ Nay, no closed doors for me,
+ But open doors and open hearts and glee
+ To welcome young and old.
+
+ Dimmest and brightest month am I;
+ My short days end, my lengthening days begin;
+ What matters more or less sun in the sky,
+ When all is sun within?
+
+(_He begins making a wreath as he sings_)
+
+ Ivy and privet dark as night,
+ I weave with hips and haws a cheerful show,
+ And holly for a beauty and delight,
+ And milky mistletoe.
+
+ While high above them all I set
+ Yew twigs and Christmas roses pure and pale;
+ Then Spring her snowdrop and her violet
+ May keep, so sweet and frail;
+
+ May keep each merry singing bird,
+ Of all her happy birds that singing build:
+ For I've a carol which some shepherds heard
+ Once in a wintry field.
+
+(_While DECEMBER concludes his song all the other Months troop in from
+the garden, or advance out of the background. The Twelve join hands in
+a circle, and begin dancing round to a stately measure as the curtain
+falls._)
+
+(_Abridged._)
+
+
+
+
+PRINCE WINTER
+
+Carl Ewald
+
+
+The Prince of Winter sat on the mountains: an old man with white hair
+and beard. His naked breast was shaggy, shaggy his legs and hands. He
+looked strong and wild with cold stern eyes.
+
+But he was not angry as when Spring drove him from the valley and when
+Autumn did not go quickly enough. He looked out over the kingdom
+calmly for he knew that it was his. And, when he found anything dead
+or empty or desolate, he plucked at his great white beard and gave a
+harsh and satisfied laugh.
+
+But all that lived in the land was struck with terror when it looked
+into his cold eyes.
+
+The trees shook in their thick bark, and the bushes struck their
+branches together in consternation. The mouse became quite
+snow-blind, when she peeped outside the door; the stag looked
+mournfully over the white meadow.
+
+"My muzzle can still break thro' the ice, when I drink," he said. "I
+can still scrape the snow to one side and find a tuft of grass. But,
+if things go on like this for another week, then it's all up with me."
+
+The crow and the chaffinch and the sparrow and the tit had quite lost
+their voices. They thought of the other birds, who had departed in
+time, and they who remained knew not where to turn in their distress.
+At last they set out in a row to carry their humble greeting to the
+new lord of the land.
+
+"Here come your birds, O mightiest of all Princes!" said the crow and
+stood and marked time in the white snow. "The others left the country
+as soon as you announced your coming, but we have remained to submit
+us to your sway. Now be a gracious lord to us and grant us food."
+
+"We bow before Your Highness!" said the chaffinch.
+
+"We have so longed for you," said the tit, and he put his head on one
+side.
+
+And the sparrow said the same as the others, in a tone of deep
+respect.
+
+But the Prince of Winter laughed at them disdainfully.
+
+"Ha, you time-serving birds! In Summer's time you amused yourselves
+merrily, in Autumn's, you ate yourselves stout and fat; and as soon as
+Spring strikes up you will dance to his piping like the others. I hate
+you and your screaming and squalling and the trees you hop about in.
+You are all here to defy me and I shall do for you if I can." Then he
+rose in all his strength.
+
+"I have my own birds and now you shall see them."
+
+He clapped his hands and sang:
+
+ "Wee snow-birds, white snow-birds,
+ White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
+ Through fields skim along!
+ To jubilant Spring I grudge music of no birds,
+ To Summer, no song.
+
+ "Come, Winter's mute messengers,
+ Swift birds and slow birds,
+ White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
+ Till the valley be soft as down for your nestling
+ Of numberless ice-eggs by frosty rims spanned!
+ Now rushing, now resting,
+ White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
+ Skim soft thro' the land!"
+
+And Winter's birds came.
+
+Suddenly, it darkened, and the air became full of little black specks,
+which descended and turned into great white snow-flakes.
+
+They fell over the ground in an endless multitude. There was now not a
+blade of grass, nor yet a stone to be seen: everything was smooth and
+soft and white. Only the trees stood out high in the air and the river
+flowed black thro' the meadow.
+
+"I know how to crush you," said the Prince of Winter.
+
+And, when evening came, he told the wind to go down. Then the waves
+became small and still, Winter stared at them with his cold eyes, and
+the ice built its bridge from bank to bank. In vain the waves tried to
+hum Spring's song. There was no strength in their voices.
+
+Next morning there was nothing left to the river but a narrow channel;
+and, when one more night had passed, the bridge was finished. Again
+the Prince of Winter called for his white birds; and soon the carpet
+was drawn over the river till it was no longer possible to see where
+land began or water ended.
+
+But the trees stood boldly out of the deep snow, the firs had kept all
+their leaves and were so green that it was quite shocking to behold.
+Wherever they stood, they were a protection against the frost and a
+shelter against the snow; and the chaffinch and the other small birds
+found refuge under their roofs.
+
+The Prince of Winter looked at them angrily.
+
+"If I could but break you!" he said. "You stand in the midst of my
+kingdom keeping guard for Summer and you give shelter to the birds
+who disturb the peace of my land. If only I had snow enough to bury
+you!"
+
+But the trees stood strong under Winter's wrath and waved their long
+branches.
+
+"You have taken from us what you can," they said. "Farther than that
+you cannot go. We will wait calmly for better times."
+
+When they had said this Winter suddenly set eyes upon tiny little buds
+round about the twigs. He saw the little brown mice trip out for a run
+in the snow and disappear again into their snug parlours before his
+eyes. He heard the hedgehog snoring in the hedge; and the crows kept
+on screaming in his ears. Through his own ice he saw the noses of the
+frogs stick up from the bottom of the pond.
+
+"Am I the master or not?" he shouted. He tore at his beard with both
+hands.
+
+He heard the anemones breathe peacefully and lightly in the mould; he
+heard thousands of grubs bore deep into the wood of the trees as
+cheerfully as though Summer were in the land. He saw the bees crawl
+about in their busy hive and share the honey they had collected in
+summer, and have a happy time. He saw the bat in the hollow tree, the
+worm deep in the ground; and, wherever he turned, he saw millions of
+eggs and grubs and chrysalides, well guarded and waiting confidently
+for him to go away.
+
+He stamped on the ground and shouted in his loud, hoarse voice:
+
+ "Roar forth, mine anger, roar, and rouse,
+ What breathes below earth's girder!
+ By thousands slay them!"
+
+He shouted it over the land.
+
+The ice broke and split into long cracks. It sounded like thunder from
+the bottom of the river.
+
+Then the storm broke loose. The gale roared so that you could hear the
+trees fall crashing in the forest. The ice was split in two and the
+huge floes heaped up into towering icebergs. The snow fell and drifted
+over meadow and hill; sky and earth were blended into one. It was
+piercingly cold, and where the snow had been blown away the ground was
+hard as stone.
+
+The Prince of Winter stood in the valley and looked upon all this
+with content. He went into the forest, where the snow was frozen to
+windward right up to the tips of the smooth beech-trunks; but in the
+boughs of the fir-trees it lay so thick that they were weighted right
+down to the ground.
+
+"You may be Summer's servants," he said, "but still you have to resign
+yourselves to wearing my livery. And now the sun shall shine on you;
+and I will have a glorious day."
+
+He bade the sun come out and he came.
+
+He rode over a bright blue sky, and all that was still alive in the
+valley raised itself towards him for warmth.
+
+"Call Spring back to the valleys! Give us Summer again!"
+
+The sun gleamed upon the hoar-frost but could not melt it; he stared
+down at the snow, but could not thaw it. The valley lay silent.
+
+"That's how I like to see the land," said Winter.
+
+The Prince of Winter sat on his mountain throne again and surveyed his
+kingdom and was glad. His great cold eyes stared, while he growled in
+his beard.
+
+ Proud of speed and hard of hand,
+ A cruel lord to follow,
+ Winter locks up sea and land,
+ Blocks up every hollow.
+
+ Summer coaxes, sweet and bland,
+ Flowers in soft vigour,
+ At Winter's harsh and grim command
+ They die of ruthless rigour.
+
+ Short and cold is Winter's Day,
+ Long and worse night's hours,
+ Few birds languish in his pay
+ And yet fewer flowers.
+
+The days wore on and Winter reigned over the land.
+
+The little brown mice had eaten their last nut; the hedgehog was
+hungry and the crows were nearly giving in.
+
+Then suddenly there came the sound of singing.
+
+ Play up! Play soon,
+ Keep time! Keep time!
+ Ye wavelets blue and tender,
+ Keep time! Keep time!
+ Burst ice and rime
+ In equinoctial splendor.
+
+Up leaped Winter and stared with his hands over his brows.
+
+Down below in the valley stood the Prince of Spring, young and
+straight in his green garb, with the lute slung over his shoulder. His
+long hair waved in the wind and his face was soft and round, his mouth
+was ever smiling and his eyes were dreamy and moist.
+
+
+
+
+HOW SPRING AND WINTER MET
+
+
+ The Winter and the Spring were met:
+ The Winter threw a fleecy net,
+ And caught the young Spring over night.
+ He put to sleep the budding tree
+ Within a cloister dim and white;
+ And the little golden crocus flower,
+ That comes too early for the bee,
+ He hid away from sunrise hour.
+ The brook was conscious of his power
+ And lost its trick of babbling words.
+
+ But Spring awoke, despite his craft,
+ And out of windows looked and laughed.
+
+ At first he set to sing all birds,
+ With twittering voices small and clear,
+ And bade them say they felt no grief
+ To find the snow and mildewed leaf
+ Heaped up in nests they built last year.
+ Then found a crystal alcove high
+ The bluebird carolled to the sky.
+ The robin whistled cheer, good cheer!
+ The sparrow rung his matin bells,
+ And far away in reedy dells
+ The quail a friendly greeting sent.
+ Then was the stifled pine not loth
+ To shuffle off the dull white sloth;
+ Then leaped the brook by icy stair,
+ And snapped his fetters as he went;
+ The sun shone out most full and fair,
+ And Winter rose and struck his tent.
+
+ Edith M. Thomas.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+On pp. 13-14 the text reads, "The king took up the sack nearest to
+him, their surprise, when out rushed a great heap of brown leaves,
+which flew all over the floor and half choked them with dust!" It
+appears there may be some missing text between "nearest to him" and
+"their surprise"; there does not appear to be any damage or obscured
+text in the original book, and the line count matches that of other
+pages, so it may be that a line was omitted during typesetting. The
+transcriber was unable to locate an alternative printing of the story,
+so, as it is impossible to determine what that text may be, the
+omission is preserved as printed.
+
+Poe is referred to in this text as Edgar Allen Poe, rather than the
+more usual Edgar Allan Poe. This is preserved as printed.
+
+Although authors and translators are listed in the Table of Contents,
+their names are not always included with their prose in the main text.
+This convention is retained here to match the original book.
+
+Minor punctuation errors have been repaired.
+
+Hyphenation and capitalisation has been made consistent within
+individual pieces in the book.
+
+The following amendments have been made:
+
+ First page of Acknowledgments--Edinburg amended to
+ Edinburgh--"To T. C. and E. C. Jack of Edinburgh ..."
+
+ Second page of Acknowledgments--Procter amended to
+ Proctor--"... James Russell Lowell, Edna Dean Proctor, ..."
+
+ Second page of Contents--Horatio amended to Horatia--"...
+ _Juliana Horatia Ewing_ ..."
+
+ Third page of Contents--Spring and Winter reversed--"How
+ Spring and Winter Met ..."
+
+ Page 19--Parain amended to Parian--"... On coop or kennel he
+ hangs Parian wreaths; ..."
+
+ Page 52--truely amended to truly--"I have told you truly who
+ she is."
+
+ Page 75--place amended to placed--"... they are placed
+ alternately on each side ..."
+
+ Page 279--stone amended to stove--"I went under the stove
+ and could lie down ..."
+
+ Page 360--hop-vine amended to hop-bine--"... and a long ripe
+ hop-bine trailing after him ..."
+
+The frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page.
+The caption in {brackets} has been added by the transcriber for the
+convenience of the reader.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Pearl Story Book, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PEARL STORY BOOK ***
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