Chapter 17

A work-box, well-filled, in the centre was laid, And on it the ring for which Annie had pray'd. A soldier in uniform stood by a sled, With bright shining runners, and all painted red.

There were balls, dogs, horses; books pleasing to see; And birds of all colours were perched in the tree; While Santa Claus, laughing, stood up in the top, As if getting ready more presents to drop.

Now, as the fond father the picture surveyed, He thought for his trouble he'd amply been paid; As he said to himself, as he brushed off a tear, "I'm happier to night than I have been for a year;

"I've enjoyed more true pleasure than ever before; What care I if bank-stock fell two per cent. more! Henceforward I'll make it a rule, I believe, To have Santa Clause visit us each Christmas-eve."

So thinking, he gently extinguished the light, And, slipping downstairs, retired for the night. As soon as the beams of the bright morning sun Put the darkness to flight, and the stars one by one,

Four little blue eyes out of sleep opened wide, And at the same moment the presents espied. Then out of their beds they sprang with a bound, And the very gifts prayed for were all of them found.

And they laughed and they cried in their innocent glee, And shouted for papa to come quick and see What presents old Santa Claus brought in the night (Just the things they wanted!), and left before light.

"And now," added Annie, in a voice soft and low, "You'll believe there's a Santa Claus, papa, I know;" While dear little Willie climbed up on his knee, Determined no secret between them should be;

And told, in soft whispers, how Annie had said That their blessed mamma, so long ago dead, Used to kneel down and pray by the side of her chair, And that God up in heaven had answered her prayer.

"Den we dot up and p'ayed just as well as we tood, And Dod answered our p'ayer, now wasn't He dood?" "I should say that He was, if He sent you all these, And knew just what presents my children would please."

("Well, well, let them think so, dear little elf! 'Twould be cruel to tell him I did it myself.")

Blind father! who caused your stern heart to relent, And the hasty words spoken so soon to repent? 'Twas the Being who bade you steal softly upstairs And made you His agent to answer their prayers.

Mrs. Sophia P. Snow

[Page 79--Santa Claus Land]

Budds' Christmas Stocking

It was Christmas-time, as all the world knew; It stormed without, and the cold wind blew, But within all was cheerful, snug, and bright, With glowing fires and many a light.

Budd B. was sent quite early to bed, His stocking was hung up close to his head, And he said to himself "When all grows still I will find a big stocking for Santy to fill."

Now, good, honest Hans, who worked at the house, Had gone to his bed as still as a mouse; The room where he slept was one story higher Than Budd's little room, with gaslight and fire.

Now, Hans loved "the poy," and petted him too, And often at night, when his task was all through, He would tell him strange stories of over the sea, While Budd listened gravely or laughed out in glee.

This night Hans had promised to wake Budd at four; He would softly come down and open his door; But suddenly Budd bounded out of his bed, And stole softly up to the room overhead.

On his hands and his knees he crept softly in, "I'll borrow Han's stocking," he said, with a grin; Old Santy will fill it up to the top, And Hans--oh, such fun! will be mad as a hop."

He moved very slowly, and felt near the bed; No stocking was there, but down on his head Came a deluge of water, well sprinkled with ice, While honest Hans held him as if in a vice.

"Vat is dat?" he cried out; "von robber I find, Den I pound him, and shake him, so much as I mind" "It's me," called out Budd; "Stop, Hans! oh, please do; I'm only a boy; I could not rob you."

But Hans did not pause--his temper was hot-- And he dragged the young robber at once from the spot, When he reached the hall light great was his surprise To find his young master with tears in his eyes.

"I wanted your stocking," muttered Budd B.; It is bigger than mine; boo hoo! I can't see, And I'm all wet and cold." thus cried Budd aloud, Until guests and his parents ran up in a crowd.

He was wrapped up with care and taken to bed, But, strangest of all, not a harsh word was said. He flattered himself as he fell asleep That Hans and his friends the secret would keep.

Next morning, when Christmas songs filled all the air, Budd found, to his grief and boyish despair, That his neck was so stiff that he could not turn his head, And must spend the whole day alone in his bed.

What was worse, his own stocking hung limp on a chair, And on it these words were written most fair: "To him who is greedy I leave less than all; The world is so large and my reindeer so small.

"My pack is elastic when children are kind, But it shuts with a snap and leaves nothing behind, When a boy or girl is selfish or mean. Good-bye, little Budd, I am off with my team. (Signed) Santa Claus."

Christmas

Again the Christmas holidays have come, We soon will hear the trumpet and the drum; We'll hear the merry shout of the girls and boys Rejoicing o'er their gifts of books and toys.

Old Santa Claus comes by at dead of night, And down the chimney creeps--a funny sight; He fills the stockings full of books and toys, But puts in whips for naughty girls and boys.

One Christmas-eve the moon shone clear and bright; I thought I'd keep awake and watch all night, But it was silent all around and stilled, Yet in the morn I found my stockings filled.

Christmas Morning

They put me in a square bed, and there they bade me sleep; I must not stir; I must not wake; I must not even peep; Right opposite that lonely bed, my Christmas stocking hung; While near it, waiting for the morn, my Sunday clothes were flung.

I counted softly, to myself, to ten and ten times ten, And went through all the alphabet, and then began again; I repeated that Fifth-Reader piece--a poem called "Repose," And tried a dozen various ways to fall into a dose--

When suddenly the room grew light. I heard a soft, strong bound, 'Twas Santa Claus, I felt quite sure, but dared not look around. 'Twas nice to know that he was there, and things were going rightly, And so I took a little nap, and tried to smile politely.

"Ho! Merry Christmas!" cried a voice; I felt the bed a-rocking; Twas daylight--brother Bob was up! and oh, that splendid stocking!

St. Nicholas

[Page 80--Santa Claus Land]

Little Nellie's Visit From Santa Claus

Santa Claus is coming to-night, papa; Please let me sit up and see him, mamma; Loaded with presents, I'm sure he'll be. He'll have something nice for you and for me.

"Mamma, do find something fresh and quite new, For dear old Santa Claus, when he comes through, I'll give it myself; I'll keep wide awake; I know he'll be glad my present to take.

"Now all go to bed as quick as you please, I'll wait for him," said the bright little tease, "He surely will ring, no doubt about that, I'll bid him come in and then have a chat."

Soon came a quick step on the piazza floor, Just then a loud ring was heard at the door. The little miss rose with dignified air, Quick ushered him in, and set him a chair.

All covered o'er with little bells tinkling, Shaking and laughing, twisting and wriggling, A funny old man, with little eyes blinking, Looking at Nellie, what was he thinking?

Not a word did he say--tired of waiting, Nellie arose, her little heart quaking, Held out her present, courage most failing, "Santa Claus, take this"--now she is smiling.

"His furry old hand, twisting and trembling, Took the sweet gift--"You dear little darling," Uttered quite softly, tenderly kissing, The bright little face, ne'er a bit shrinking.

Lots of presents quickly bestowing, Thanking her kindly--he must be going, Shaking and laughing, his little bells jingling, Down the steps, hastening off in a twinkling.

Brave little lady! all are now saying, Santa Claus truly! bright eyes are asking; See her dear papa, secretly laughing At her true faith in Santa Claus' coming.

Yes! she believes it, ever so truly, Dear precious darling! rob her not surely, Of childhood's sweet faith, now in its glory, While she's relating her own simple story.

Mrs. C. E. Wilbur

Christmas Stockings

'Tis Christmas day, And little May Peeps from her bed in the morning grey.

She looks around, But not a sound Breaks on the quietness profound.

So, heaving sighs, She shuts her eyes, And hard to go to sleep she tries.

But sleep has fled That little bed. And weary moves the curly head,

Until the light (Oh, welcome sight!) Has banished every trace of night.

Then out of bed, With hurried tread, She runs to waken brother Fred;

For oh, what joys, In the shape of toys, Does Christmas bring to girls and boys!

Fred gives a groan, Or a sleepy moan, And mutters, "Do let me alone!"

But bonnie May Will not have nay; She whispers, "It is Christmas day!"

Oh, magic sound! For Fred turns round, And in a trice is on the ground.

"Our stockings, where?" "They're on that chair." "Oh, what has Santa Claus put there?"

May laughs with glee, The sight to see, Of stockings filled from toe to knee

With parcels queer, That stick out here, Before, behind, in front and rear.

"Oh, Fred! a dolly! I'll call her Molly." "Why, may, a penknife here; how jolly!"

"A necktie blue! A paintbox too!" "Oh, Fred, a pair of kid gloves new!"

"May, here's a gun! Won't we have fun, Playing at soldiers!--You'll be one."

"Now that is all. No; here's a ball; Just hold it, or these things will fall."

"What's in the toe, May, do you know? Biscuits and figs!--I told you so."

"I think," said May, That Christmas day Should come at least every second day."

And so say we; But then you see That Santa Claus would tired be.

And all his toys And Christmas joys Would vanish then from girls and boys.

From "The Prize"

Hang Up Baby's Stocking

Hang up the baby's stocking: Be sure you don't forget: The dear little dimpled darling Has never seen Christmas yet.

But I told him all about it, And he opened his big blue eyes; I'm sure he understood it, He looked so funny and wise.

Ah, what a tiny stocking; It doesn't take so much to hold Such little toes as baby's Safe from the frost and cold.

But then, for the baby's Christmas It never will do at all; For Santa Claus wouldn't be looking For anything half so small.

I know what will do for baby; I've thought of a first-rate plan; I'll borrow a stocking of grandma-- The longest that I ever can.

And you shall hang it by mine, mother, Right here in the corner--so; And write a letter for baby. And fasten it on the toe.

"Old Santa Claus, this is a stocking Hung up for our baby dear; You never have seen our darling, He has not been with us a year,

"But he is a beautiful baby; And now, before you go, Please cram this stocking with presents, From the top of it down to the toe.

"Put in a baby's rattle, Also a coral ring, A bright new ribbon for his waist; Some beads hung on a string

"And mind a coloured ball please, And a tiny pair of shoes; You'll see from this little stocking, The size you have to choose."

Santa Claus

A health to good old Santa Claus, And to his reindeer bold, Whose hoofs are shod with elder-down, Whose horns are tipped with gold.

Ho comes from utmost fairyland Across the wintry snows; He makes the fir-tree and the spruce To blossom like the rose.

Over the quaint old gables, Over the windy ridge, By turret wall and chimney tall, He guided his fairy sledge;

He steals upon the slumbers Of little rose-lipped girls, And lays his waxen dollies down Beside their golden curls.

He scatters blessings on his way, And sugar-coated plums; He robs the sluggard from his rest With trumpets, guns, and drums.

Small feet, before the dawn of day, Are marching to and fro, Drums beat to arms through all the house, And penny trumpets blow.

A health to brave old Santa Claus, And to his reindeer bold, Whose hoofs are shod with elder-down, Whose horns are tipped with gold.

S. H. Whitman

[Page 81--Play Land]

The Rabbit on the Wall

The children shout with laughter, The uproar louder grows; Even grandma chuckles faintly, And Johnny chirps and crows. There ne'er was gilded painting, Hung up in lordly hall, Gave half the simple pleasure As this rabbit on the wall.

The cottage work is over, The evening meal is done; Hark! thro' the starlight stillness You hear the river run. The little children whisper, Then speak out one and all; "Come, father, make for Johnny, The rabbit on the wall."

He--smilingly assenting, They gather round his chair; "Now, grandma, you hold Johnny; Don't let the candle flare." So speaking, from his fingers He throws a shadow tall, That seems, a moment after, A rabbit on the wall.

Holiday Time

With these three little girls and two little boys There is sure to be plenty of laughter and noise; But nobody minds it, because don't you see, At school they are quiet with lessons to say-- But when the holidays come they can play the whole day.

The Fairy Queen

Let us laugh and let us sing, Dancing in a merry ring; We'll be fairies on the green, Sporting round the Fairy Queen.

Like the seasons of the year, Round we circle in a sphere; I'll be Summer, you'll be Spring, Dancing in a fairy ring.

Harry will be Winter wild; Little Annie, Autumn mild; Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, Dancing in a fairy ring.

Spring and Summer glide away, Autumn comes with tresses grey; Winter, hand in hand with Spring, Dancing in a fairy ring.

Faster! faster! round we go While our cheeks like roses glow; Free as birds upon the wing, Dancing in a fairy ring.

Come and Play in the Garden

Little sister, come away, And let us in the garden play, For it is a pleasant day.

On the grassplot let us sit, Or, if you please, we'll play a bit, And run about all over it.

But the fruit we will not pick, For that would be a naughty trick, And, very likely, make us sick.

Nor will we pluck the pretty flowers That grow about the beds and bowers, Because, you know, they are not ours.

We'll pluck the daisies, white and red, Because mamma has often said, That we may gather them instead.

And much I hope we always may Out very dear mamma obey, And mind whatever she may say.

Little Romp

I am tired to death of keeping still And being good all day. I guess my mamma's company Forgot to go away, I've wished and wished they'd think of it, And that they would get through; But they must talk for ever first, They almost always do.

I heard Tom calling to me once, He's launched his boat, I know; I wanted to get out and help, But mamma's eyes said no. The ladies talk such stuff to me, It makes me sick to hear-- "How beautiful your hair curls!" or, "How red your cheeks are, dear!"

I'd ten times rather run a race, Then play my tunes and things; I wouldn't swop my dogs and balls For forty diamond rings. I've got no 'finement, aunty says, I 'spect she knows the best; I don't need much to climb a tree, Or hunt a squirrel's nest.

"Girls are like berries," papa says, "Sweeter for running wild," But Aunt Melissa shakes her head, And calls me "Horrid child!" I'll always be a romp she knows-- But sure's my name is Sadie, I'll fool 'em all some dreadful day, By growing up a lady.

Hide and Seek

"We will have a game of hide and seek, Now mind you do not look." And Willie went and hid himself In a dark and lonely nook.

Then the children went to find him; They hunted all about. It was a funny way in which At last they found him out.

Just as they got where he was hid, In his nose he felt a tickling That made him sneeze, and so you see They found him in a twinkling.

[Page 82--Play Land]

Tired of Play

Tired of play! tired of play! What hast thou done this livelong day? The birds are silent, and so is the bee; The sun is creeping up temple and tree;

The doves have flown to the sheltering eves And the nests are dark with the drooping leaves. Twilight gathers and day is done, How hast thou spent it, restless one?

Playing? But what has thou done beside, To tell thy mother at eventide? What promise of morn is left unbroken? What kind word to thy playmate spoken?

Whom hast thou pitied and whom forgiven, How with thy faults has duty striven, What hast thou learned by field and hill? By greenwood path, and singing rill?

Well for thee if thou couldst tell, A tale like this of a day spent well, If thy kind hand has aided distress, And thou pity hast felt for wretchedness;

If thou hast forgiven a brother's offence, And grieved for thine own with penitence; If every creature has won thy love From the creeping worm to the brooding dove, Then with joy and peace on the bed of rest, Thou wilt sleep as on thy mother's breast.

Sea-side Play

Two little boys, all neat and clean, Came down upon the shore: They did not know old Ocean's ways-- They'd ne'er seen him before.

So quietly they sat them down, To build a fort of sand; Their backs were turned to the sea, Their faces toward the land.

They had just built a famous fort-- The handkerchief flag was spread-- When up there came a stealthy wave, And turned them heels over head.

After School Hours

School is closed and tasks are done, Flowers are laughing in the sun; Like the songsters in the air, Happy children, banish care!

Riding on a Gate

Sing, sing, What shall we sing, A gate is a capital Sort of thing.

If you have not a horse, Or haven't a swing, A gate is a capital Sort of thing.

Cry, cry, Finger in eye, Go home to mother And tell her why;

You've been riding, And why not I? Each in turn, isn't that the rule For work or play, at home or school.

Walking Song

Come, my children, come away, For the sun shines bright to-day; Little children, come with me, Birds, and brooks, and posies see; Get your hats and come away, For it is a pleasant day.

Bring the hoop and bring the ball, Come with happy faces all, Let us make a merry ring, Talk, and laugh, and dance, and sing Quickly, quickly come away, For it is a pleasant day.

The Lost Playmate

The old school-house is still to day, The rooms have no gay throng; No ringing laugh is on the air, There is no snatch of song. The white-haired master sits upon The seat beneath the tree, And thinks upon the vanished face, With all its boyish glee.

But a few short days ago, the lad Was gayest of the gay, Quick at the page of knowledge, and The heartiest in play. The pride of the home beside the stream, With his pigeons in their cots, And finding life a very dream, In pleasant homely spots.

His school companions loving him, And old folks speaking praise, Of the well-loved boy, with frankest eyes, And cheery, happy ways. All in the village knew the boy, From parson down to clerk, And his whistle in the village street Was clear as the song of lark.

But like a dream he's passed away, And from the chamber dim, In the fair light of summer day, The peasants carry him. And playmates gather at the grave, The old schoolmaster there, While blossomed boughs wave over-head, And all around is fair.

True is the grief that brings the tear, There is no empty show; The simple neighbours see their loss, And there is heart-felt woe. They talk of the bright and lively lad, Cut down in boyish prime, And old folks think how strange is life, More strange with passing time!

Oh! simple sight on green hill-side, Away from pomp and power; Here are the truths so oft denied To the imperial hour. Dear child, how precious are the tears, Suffusing friendly eyes! Sublimity is in their gleam, A light from God's own skies.

[Page 83--Play Land]

In the Toy Shop

Cups and saucers, pots and pans, China figures, Chinese fans, Railway trains, with tops and tables, Fairy tales, and Aesop's fables.

Clockwork mice, and colored marbles, Painted bird that sweetly warbles, Dolls of every age and size, With flaxen curls and moving eyes.

Cows and horses, chickens, cats, Rattles, windmills, boats and bats, Ducks and geese, and golden fishes, Skipping ropes, and copper dishes.

Books with coloured pictures, too, And a thousand other things for you; Dainty maidens, merry boys, Here you are, all sorts of toys.

Neat Little Clara

"Little Clara, come away, Little Clara, come and play; Leave your work, Maria's here, So come and play with me, my dear."

"I will come, and very soon, For I always play at noon; But must put my work away, Ere with you I come and play.

First my bodkin I must place With my needles in their case; I like to put them by with care, And then I always find them there.

There's my cotton, there's my thread Thimble in its little bed; All is safe--my box I lock, Now I come--'tis twelve o'clock."

Playing Store

"Ting-a-ling!" Now they Have opened the store, Never was such An assortment before; Mud pies in plenty, And parcels of sand, Pebbles for sugar plums, Always on hand.

Plenty of customers Coming to buy, "Brown sugar, white sugar Which will you try? Paper for money; Their wealth, too, is vast; In spite of the plenty, They scatter it fast.

Quick little hands Tie bundles with care, Summer's glad music Is filling the air; Birdies fly over, And wonder, no doubt, What all these gay little folks are about.

Fishing

He took a stick, he took a cord, He took a crooked pin, And went a-fishing in the sand And almost tumbled in. But just before he tumbled in, By chance it came about, He hooked a whiting and a sole, And made them tumble out.

Hide and Seek

When the clean white cloth is laid, And the cups are on the table, When the tea and toast are made, That's a happy time for Mabel.

Stealing to her mother's side, In her ear she whispers low, "When papa comes I'll hide; Don't tell him where I go,"

On her knees upon the floor, In below the sofa creeping; When she hears him at the door, She pretends that she is sleeping.

"Where is Mabel?" father cries, Looking round and round about. Then he murmurs in surprise, "Surely Mabel can't be out."

First he looks behind his chair, Then he peers beneath the table, Seeking, searching everywhere All in vain for little Mabel;

But at last he thinks he knows, And he laughs and shakes his head, Says to mother, "I suppose Mabel has been put to bed."