Part 2

`There came a twang o' pearly harp,

There came a lilting loud and sweet;

`And softly o'er the fairy bridge

There came the dance o' slender feet.

`There danced along the fairy bridge

A spot i' the golden light apace:

`The laddie at the castle gate

Stood lifting up his bonnie face.

`"Oh, I ha' wandered by the burn,

And I ha' wandered by the glen;

`A little leddy all in green,"

He said, "has led me home again."

`Macleod close furled the fairy flag:

"Ye've served me once in blessed stead,

`But sorely I'll be pressed again

Ere I will wave ye twice!" he said.

`All day the chief had held the field,

Nor quailed until the sun sank low:

`His followers, bleeding, round him lay,

And he was hemmed in by the foe.

`Oh, life is sweet! "exclaimed Macleod;

"I love my bairn and lady dear:

`I'll wave again the fairy flag--

But will it bring me succor here?"

`Macleod waved high the fairy flag;

H is foemen reeled back at the sight;

`For in their cruel eyes there danced

Great spots and bars of golden light.

`There came a twang o' pearly harp,

There came a lilting loud and sweet;

`And Macleod's foemen turned and fled,

The hills all rang with flying feet.

`Macleod furled close the fairy flag:

"Ye've served me twice in blessed stead,

`But I shall in the churchyard lie

Ere I will wave ye thrice!" he said.

`"For if I thrice should wave the flag,

And thrice should get my heart's desire,

`Next day might come a sorer need,

When it were ashes in the fire."

`Macleod kept well his word: he fought

For life on many a bloody plain;

He tossed in peril on the sea,

Nor waved the fairy flag again.

`The hand that waved the fairy flag,

The lips the fairy kissed, are still:

`Macleod low in the churchyard lies,

And deaf to lilting sweet and shrill.

`But still his kin in misty Skye

The fairy flag in keeping hold;

`And sometime from the castle wall

May flash its spots and bars of gold.

`But dire indeed shall be the need,

And every other hope be slain,

`Before a Macleod of the Isle

Shall wave the fairy flag again.

THE SPOILED DARLING.

|OH the ruffles there were on that little

dress, Fanny!

`Her mamma does dress her so sweetly, you

know;

`And the prettiest sash of pale rose-colored

satin

Tied at her waist in a butterfly-bow.

`And her soft, flossy hair, almost a rose-yellow,

Like the roses we had in our garden last year,

`Cut short round the fairest blue-veined little

forehead--

Oh, if Miss Marion wasn't a dear!

`Just perfect she was, the mite of a darling,

From her flower of a head to her pink

slipper-toes!

`You will laugh, but she seemed as I looked

at her, Fanny,

A little girl copied right after a rose!

`Well, you know how it is: they have petted

the darling,

Her papa and mamma, her uncles and

aunts--

`Till, saving the moon, which they can't get

for princes,

`There isn't a thing but she has if she wants.

`So, last night at the Christmas-tree, Fanny,

--It was so funny I laugh at it now--

`There was Miss Marion sweeter than honey,

All in her ruffles and butterfly-bow;

`She had presents, I thought, enough for a

dozen,

But she seemed heavy-hearted in spite of

it all;

`Her sweet little mouth was all of a quiver,

And there was a teardrop just ready to

fall.

`The aunts and the cousins all round her came

crowding;

"And what is the matter, my darling, my

dear?"

`She didn't look sulky, but grieved; and I

saw it

Roll down her pink cheek, that trembling

tear;

`And she lisped out so honest, "Mamie and

Bessie,

And the rest, have pwesents--and 'twas

my Tristmas-tree;

`And when I tame in, I fought that the pwes-

ents--

The whole of them on it--of tourse were

for me! "

`I scarcely could blame her--she didn't seem

angry,

But grieved to the heart, the queer little

mite!

`And 'twasn't her fault--she'd been fed so

much honey,

All the sweet in the world she took as her

right.

THE BROWNIE'S XMAS.

|THE Brownie who lives in the forest,

_Oh, the Christmas bells they ring!_

`Has done for the farmer's children

Full many a kindly thing:

`When their cows were lost in the gloaming,

He has driven them safely home;

`He has led their bees to the flowers,

To fill up their golden comb;

`At her spinning the little sister

Had napped till the setting sun--

`She awoke, and the kindly Brownie

Had gotten it neatly done;

`_Oh, the Christmas bells they are ringing!_

The mother she was away,

`And the Brownie played with the baby,

And tended it all the day;

The Brownie who lives in the torest,

_Oh, the Christmas bells they ring!_

!

Has done for the farmer's children

Full many a kindly thing.

`'Tis true that they never spied him,

Though their eyes were so sharp and bright,

`But there were the tasks all nicely done,

And never a soul in sight.

`But the poor little friendly Brownie,

His life was a weary thing;

`For he never had been in holy church

And heard the children sing;

`And he never had had a Christmas,

Nor bent in prayer his knee;

`He had lived for a thousand years,

And all weary-worn was he.

`Or that was the story the children

Had heard at their mother's side;

`And together they talked it over,

One merry Christmas-tide.

`The pitiful little sister

With her braids of paly gold,

`And the little elder brother,

And the darling five-year-old,

`All stood in the western window--

'Twas toward the close of day--

`And they talked about the Brownie

While resting from their play.

`"The Brownie, he has no Christmas,"

The dear little sister said;

`A-shaking sadly as she spoke

Her glossy, yellow head;

`"The Brownie, he has no Christmas;

While so many gifts had we,

`Last night they fairly bent to the floor

The boughs of the Christmas-tree."

`Then the little elder brother,

He spake up in his turn,

`His sweet blue eyes were beaming,

And his cheeks began to burn:

`"Let us make up for the Brownie

A Christmas bundle now,

`To leave in the forest pathway

Where the great oak branches bow.

`"We'll mark it, 'For the Brownie,'

And 'A Merry Christmas Day! '

`And he will be sure to find it,

For he must go home that way!"

`Then the tender little sister

With her braids of paly gold,

`And the little elder brother,

And the darling five-year-old,

`Made up a Christmas bundle

All tied with ribbons gay,

`And marked it, "For the Brownie,"

With "A Merry Christmas Day!"

`And then in the winter twilight,

With shouts of loving glee,

`They hied to the wood, and left their gift

Under the great oak-tree.

`While the farmer's fair little children

Slept sweet that Christmas night,

`Two wanderers through the forest

Came in the clear moonlight.

`And neither of them was the Brownie,

But sorry were both as he;

`And their hearts, with every footstep,

Were aching heavily.

`A slender man with an organ

Strapped on by a leathern band,

`And a little girl with a tambourine

A-holding close to his hand.

`And the little girl with the tambourine,--

Her gown was thin and old;

`And she toiled through the great white forest,

A-shining with the cold.

`"And what is there here to do?" she said;

"I'm froze i' the light o' the moon!

`Shall we play to these sad old forest trees

Some merry and jigging tune?

`"And, father, you know it is Christmas-time;

And had we staid i' the town,

`And I gone to one o' the Christmas-trees,

A gift might have fallen down!

`"You cannot certainly know it would not!

I'd ha' gone right under the tree I

`Are you sure that never one Christmas

Is meant for you and me?"

`"These dry, dead leaves," he answered her,

"Which the forest casteth down,

`Are more than you'd get from a Christmas-tree

In the merry and thoughtless town.

`"Though to-night be the Christ's own birth-

day night,

And all the world has grace,

`There is not a home in all the world

Which has for us a place."

`Slow plodding adown the forest path,

"Now, what is this?" he said;

`Then he lifted the children's bundle,

And "For the Brownie," read.

`The tears came into his weary eyes:

"Now if this be done," said he,

`"Somewhere in the world perhaps there is

A place for you and me!"

`Then the bundle he opened softly:

"This is children's tender thought;

`Their own little Christmas presents

They have to the Brownie brought.

`"If there lives such tender pity

Toward a thing so dim and low,

`

`There must be kindness left on earth

Of which I did not know.

"Oh, children, there's never a Brownie

That sorry, uncanny thing;

`But nearest and next are the homeless

When the Christmas joy-bells ring."

`Loud laughed the little daughter,

As she gathered the toys in her gown:

`"Oh, father, this oak is my Christmas-tree,

And my present has fallen down!"

`Then away they went through the forest,

The wanderers, hand in hand;

`And the snow, they were both so merry,

It glinted like golden sand.

`Down the forest the elder brother,

In the morning clear and cold,

`Came leading the little sister,

And the darling five-year-old.

`"Oh," he cries, "he's taken the bundle!"

As carefully round he peers;

`"And the Brownie has gotten a Christmas

After a thousand years!"

THE CHRISTMAS BALL.

|THE fiddlers were scraping so cheerily, O,

`With a one, two, three, and a one, two, three,

And the children were dancing so merrily, O,

`All under the shade of the Christmas-tree.

O, bonny the fruit on its branches which

grows!

`And the mistletoe bough from the ceiling hung!

The fiddlers they rosined their squeaking

bows,

`And the brave little lads their partners

swung.

Oh, the fiddlers they played such a merry tune,

`With a one, two, three, and a one, two, three,

And the children they blossomed like roses

in June,

`All under the boughs of the Christmas-tree.

And the fiddlers were scrap-

ing so merrily, O,

With a one, two, three, and

a one, two, three;

And the children were dan-

cing so cheerily, O,

`All under the shade of the

Christmas-tree--

The girl-fairy in cobweb

frock.

When, all of a sudden, a fairy-

land crew

`Came whirling airily into the room,

As light as the fluffy balls, they flew,

`Which fly from the purple thistle-bloom.

There were little girl-fairies in cobweb frocks

`All spun by spiders from golden threads,

`With butterfly-wings and glistening locks,

And wreaths of dewdrops around their

heads!

`There were little boy-fairies in jew-

elled coats

`Of pansy velvet, of cost un-

told,

`With chains of daisies around

their throats,

And their heads all powdered

with lily-gold!

The boy-fairy in jewelled

coat.

`The fiddlers they laughed till

they scarce could see,

And then they fiddled so cheerily, O,

`And the fairies and children around the tree,

They all went tripping so merrily, O.

`The fiddlers they boxed up their fiddles all;

The fairies they silently flew away;

`But every child at the Christmas ball

Had danced with a fairy first, they say.

`So they told their mothers--and did not you

Ever have such a lovely time at your play,

`My boy and my girl, that it seemed quite true

That you'd played with a fairy all the day?

THE PURITAN DOLL.

|OUR Puritan fathers, stern and good,

Had never a holiday;

`Sober and earnest seemed life to them--

They only stopped working to pray.

`And the little Puritan maidens learned

Their catechisms through;

`And spun their stents, and wove, themselves,

Their garments of homely blue.

`And they never made merry on Christmas

Day--

That savored of Pope and Rome;

`And there was never a Christmas-tree

In any Puritan home.

`There never was woven a Christmas wreath,

Carols the children never sung,

`And Christmas Eve, in the chimney-place,

There was never a stocking hung.

`Sweet little Ruth, with her flaxen hair

All neatly braided and tied,

`Was sitting one old December day

At her pretty mother's side.

`She listened, speaking never a word,

With her serious, thoughtful look,

`To the Christmas story her mother read

Out of the good old Book.

`"I'll tell thee, Ruth!" her mother cried,

Herself scarce more than a girl,

`As she smoothed her little daughter's hair,

Lest it straggle out into a curl,

`"If thy stent be spun each day this week,

And thou toil like the busy bee,

`A Christmas present on Christmas Day

I promise to give to thee."

`And then she talked of those merry times

She never could quite forget;

`The Christmas cheer, the holly and yule--

She was hardly a Puritan yet.

`She talked of those dear old English days,

With tears in her loving eyes;

`And little Ruth heard like a Puritan child,

With a quiet though glad surprise.

`But nevertheless she thought of her gift,

As much as would any ot you;

`And busily round, each day of the week,

Her little spinning-wheel flew.

`Tired little Ruth! but oh, she thought

She was paid for it after all,

`When her mother gave her on Christmas Day

A little Puritan doll.

`'Twas made of a piece of a homespun sheet,

Dressed in a homespun gown

Cut just like Ruth's, and a little cap

With a stiff white muslin crown.

`A primly folded muslin cape--

I don't think one of you all

`Would have been so bold as to dare to play

With that dignified Puritan doll.

`Dear little Ruth showed her delight

In her pretty, quiet way;

`She sat on her stool in the great fire-place,

And held her doll all day.

`And then (she always said "good-night"

When the shadows began to fall]

`She was so happy she went to sleep

Still holding her Puritan doll.

THE GIFT THAT NONE COULD SEE.

|THERE are silver pines on the win-

dow-pane,

A forest of them," said he;

`"And a huntsman is there with a silver horn,

Which he bloweth right merrily.

`"And there are a flock of silver ducks

A-flying over his head;

And a silver sea and a silver hill

In the distance away," he said.

`"And all this is on the window-pane,

My pretty mamma, true as true!"

`She lovingly smiled; but she looked not up,

And faster her needle flew.

`A dear little fellow the speaker was--

Silver and jewels and gold,

`Lilies and roses and honey-flowers,

In a sweet little bundle rolled.

`He stood by the frosty window-pane

Till he tired of the silver trees,

`The huntsman blowing his silver horn,

The hills and the silver seas;

`And he breathed on the flock of silver ducks,

Till he melted them quite away;

`And he saw the street, and the people pass--

And the morrow was Christmas Day.

`"The children are out, and they laugh and

shout,

I know what it's for," said he;

`"And they're dragging along, my pretty

mamma,

A fir for a Christmas-tree."

`He came and stood by his mother's side:

"To-night it is Christmas Eve;

`And is there a gift somewhere for me.

Gold mamma, do you believe?"

`Still the needle sped in her slender hands:

"My little sweetheart," said she,

`"The Christ Child has planned this Christ-

mas, for you,

His gift that you cannot see."

`The boy looked up with a sweet, wise look

On his beautiful baby-face:

`"Then my stocking I'll hang for the Christ

Child's gift,

To-night, in the chimney-place."

`On Christmas morning the city through,

The children were queens and kings,

`With their royal treasuries bursting o'er

With wonderful, lovely things.

`But the merriest child in the city full,

And the fullest of all with glee,

`Was the one whom the dear Christ Child

had brought

The gift that he could not see.

`"Quite empty it looks, oh my gold mamma,

The stocking I hung last night!"

`"So then it is full of the Christ Child's

gift."

And she smiled till his face grew bright.

`"Now, sweetheart," she said, with a patient

look

On her delicate, weary face,

`"I must go and carry my sewing home,

And leave thee a little space.

`"Now stay with thy sweet thoughts, heart's delight

And I soon will be back to thee."

`"I'll play, while you're gone, my pretty

mamma,

With my gift that I cannot see."

`He watched his mother pass down the street;

Then he looked at the window-pane

`Where a garden of new frost-flowers had

bloomed

While he on his bed had lain.

`Then he tenderly took up his empty sock,

And quietly sat awhile,

`Holding it fast, and eying it

With his innocent, trusting smile.

`"I am tired of waiting," he said at last;

"I think I will go and meet

`My pretty mamma, and come with her

A little way down the street.

`"And I'll carry with me, to keep it safe,

My gift that I cannot see."

`And down the street 'mid the chattering crowd,

He trotted right merrily.

`"And where are you going, you dear little

man?

They called to him as he passed;

`"That empty stocking why do you hold

In your little hand so fast?"

`Then he looked at them with his honest eyes,

And answered sturdily:

`"My stocking is full to the top, kind sirs,

Of the gift that I cannot see."

`They would stare and laugh, but he trudged

With his stocking fast in his hand:

`"And I wonder why 'tis that the people all

Seem not to understand!"

`"Oh, my heart's little flower!" she cried to

him,

A-hurrying down the street;

`"And why are you out on the street alone?

And where are you going, my sweet?"

`"I was coming to meet you, my pretty

mamma,

With my gift that I cannot see;

`But tell me, why do the people laugh,

And stare at my gift and me?"

`Like the Maid at her Son, in the Altar-piece,

So loving she looked, and mild:

`"Because, dear heart, of all that you met,

Not one was a little child."

`O thou who art grieving at Christmas-tide,

The lesson is meant for thee;

`That thou mayst get Christ's loveliest gifts

In ways thou canst not see;

`And how, although no earthly good

Seems into thy lot to fall,

`Hast thou a trusting child-like heart,

Thou hast the best of all.

A LITTLE CALLER.

|LONG, long ago, she ambled to town, her

flaxen curls bobbed up and down,

Her best blue ribbons fluttered gay, and she

had some calling-cards of her own--

Long, long ago, the people cried, "There

rides the sweet little Arabella,

She goes for to make a wedding-call, to-day,

on the Prince and Cinderella!"

KATY-DID--KATY-DIDN'T.

|WHO was Katy, who was she,

That you prate of her so long?

`Was she just a little lassie

Full of smiles and wiles and song?

`Did she spill the cups o' dew

Filled for helpless, thirsty posies?

`Did she tie a butterfly

Just beyond the reach o' roses?

`Slandered she some sweet dumb thing?

Called a tulip dull and plain,

`Said the clover had no fragrance,

And the lily had a stain?

`Did she mock the pansies' faces,

Or a grandpa-longlegs flout?

`Did she chase the frightened fireflies

Till their pretty lamps went out?

`Well, whatever 'twas, O Katy!

We believe no harm of you;

`And we'll join your stanch defenders,

Singing "Katy-didn't," too.

SLIDING DOWN HILL.

|THERE is ice on the hill, hurrah, hurrah!

We can slide quite down to the pas-

ture-bar,

Where the cows at night, in the summer

weather,

Would stand a-waiting and lowing together.

"Tie your tippet closer, John,"

That was what their mother said;

"All of you put mittens on--

The broom will answer for a sled!"

They had never a sled, but dragged in its room,

Just as gayly, behind them, the worn kitchen-

broom;

John, Sammy, and Tom, and their sweet lit-

tle sister,

With her cheeks cherry-red, where the wind

had kissed her.

`"You can watch, sis, that's enough,"

That was what her brother's said;

`"Keep your hands warm in your muff--

Girls can't slide without a sled! "

"Oh! where in the world is there aught so nice

As to slide down the pasture-hill on the ice?

Quite down to the bar, sis, see, we are going,

Where the cows each night in summer stood lowing.

"If I were a boy, like you--"

This was what their sister said,

Watching as they downward flew--

"I would make a girl a sled!"

LITTLE PEACHLING.

_A Japanese Folk-lore Story._

|AT the foot of the Golden Dragon Hill,

Ages ago, in a snug little house

`With a roof of dark-brown, velvety thatch,

There lived an old woodman and his spouse.

`One morning his bill-hook the old man took:

"To the mountain, to cut me a fagot, I'll

hie,

`While you, O Koyo, the linen can wash

In the river which rushes and gurgles by."

`Oh! the merry old man to the mountain hied,

Past young rice-fields in the morning sun,

`Toward the dark fir-trees on the mountain side,

Standing forth in its silence, every one.

`From wild camellias and white plum-trees,

In his twinkling old eyes the spider-webs

swung;

`And he merrily brushed by the green bam-

boos,

With his bill-hook over his shoulder hung.

`And a uguisu sang in a tall cherry-tree

As the smiling old wife to the river-side

went:

`"Oh, red is the sun!" she cheerily sang,

As she patiently over her washing bent.

`"Oh, red is the sun! and the rice-fields green--

Now what is that in the river I see?

`It's the rosiest peach in the whole of Japan;

And it's coming a-floating, a-floating to me.

`"Now, here is a feast for my darling old man,

Oh, the great Shogun not a finer can get!

`Some stewed lily-bulbs, and this beautiful peach,

When he comes home from work, before

him I'll set."

`Soon down from the mountain the old man

came,

And fast on his back his fagot was bound.

`"Oh! hasten you, husband," his loving wife

cried,

And taste this beautiful peach that I found."

`But just as he took it the peach split in

twain,

And a fat little baby with raven-black hair

`Was cradled right in the heart of the peach,

And lay a-twinkling and blinking there.

`"Oh! you brave little boy, you shall be our

own son;

And Momotaro shall have for a name,

Or Little Peachling, since out of a peach,

You dear little fellow, this morning you

came."

`Oh! the rice-fields blossomed for twenty years,

While the gurgling old river amongst them

ran;

`Oh! for twenty years grew the slim bamboo,

And Little Peachling was grown to a man.

`"Some millet-dumplings pray make for me,"

To his good foster-mother he said one

day,

`"And off to the ogres' castle I'll go,

And the whole of their treasure will bring

`away.

`"As thick in the ogres' treasure-vaults

The jewels are lying as sea-shore sands;

`With blue snow-gates on the mountain-top,

The ogres' castle all proudly stands--

`"With blue snow-gates that are stronger than

steel;

But I will enter, and bring to you

`The wealth from the ogres' treasure-vaults,

Hung over with pearls, like flowers with

dew."

`"I have made you the dumplings," his good

mother said,

"But I fear lest the ogres should do you

a harm."

`But the little Peachling danced gayly away,

With the millet-dumplings under his arm.

`A dog leapt out of a cluster of pines:

"And what have you there, Little Peachling,

pray?"

`"The best millet-dumplings in all Japan,

And I'm to the ogres' castle away."

`"For one of your dumplings with you I'll go,

And the ogres' castle will help subdue."

`"Well, you can bark at the castle-gate;

So here is a dumpling, friend dog, for you."

`An ape swung down from a roadside tree:

"Kia, kia, what have you, I say?"

`"The best millet-dumplings in all Japan,

And I'm to the ogres' castle away."

`"One of your dumplings pray give to me,

And the ogres' castle I'll help subdue."

`"Well, you can climb o'er the castle-gate;

So here is a dumpling, friend ape, for you."

`"Ken, ken ," cried a pheasant, "and what have

you there,

Little Peachling, tucked in your girdle, I

pray?"

"The best millet-dumplings in all Japan,

And I'm to the ogres' castle away."

`"For one of your dumplings with you I'll go,

And the ogres' castle will help subdue,"

`"Well, you can fly o'er the castle-gate;

So here is a dumpling, friend pheasant, for

you.

`Oh, the castle stood high on the mountain-

top,

And over its turrets a hurricane blew;

`But up to its terrible blue snow-gates

Little Peachling marched with his retinue.

`Then the ogres swarmed out on the castle-

towers,

The drums beat loud, and the trumpets

brayed,

`And magical arrows came rustling around--