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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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