Chapter 2

Tell your brother Walter, that as I brought him presents ten years before you came, he mustn't expect quite so many now; for he can have no idea how many little folks I have to provide for. And if my reindeers weren't the kindest, and strongest, and fleetest of creatures, we never could get through the amount of work we have to do "the night before Christmas."

Wishing you, and your brother, and papa, and mamma, a "Merry Christmas," I remain, with a heart full of love, yours,

SANTA CLAUS.

THE HEDGEHOG.

THE hedgehog is a queer little animal with short limbs. It feeds mostly on insects. It has its body covered with sharp spines instead of hairs, and can roll itself up in a ball, and thus show an array of prickles pointing in every direction.

Slow of foot, this little creature cannot flee from danger; but in the sharp, hard, and tough prickles of its coat, it has a safeguard better than the teeth and claws of the wildcat, or the fleetness of the hare.

The hedgehog has powerful muscles beneath the skin of the back; and by the aid of these, on the slightest alarm, it rolls itself up so as to have its head and legs hidden in the middle of the ball it thus makes of itself.

Our dog Snip saw a hedgehog, the other day, for the first time. As soon as it saw him, the little creature seemed to change from a live thing into a ball. Snip did not know what to make of it. His curiosity was much excited. He went up, and looked at it.

If the two could have spoken, I think this would have been their talk:--

_Snip._--"Of all the queer things I ever saw, you are the queerest. What _are_ you anyhow?"

_Hedgehog._--"Suppose you put out your paw, and try."

_Snip._--"I don't like the look of those prickles."

_Hedgehog._--"Don't be a coward, Snip! Put your nose down, and feel of my nice soft back."

Whether the cunning hedgehog really cheated him by any such remarks as these, I cannot say. But Snip at last mustered courage enough to put his nose down to the ball. Rash Snip! Up rose the bristles, and pricked him so that he ran back to the house, howling and yelping as if he had been shot.

Having put Snip to flight, the hedgehog quietly unrolled itself, thrust out its queer little head with the long snout, and crept along on its way rejoicing. As for Snip, I am quite sure he will never put his nose to the back of a hedgehog again, as long as he lives.

CHARLES SELWYN.

LITTLE black monkey sat up in a tree; Little black monkey, he grinned at me; He put out his paw for a cocoanut, And he dropped it down on my occiput.

The occiput is a part, you know, Of the head which does on my shoulders grow; And it's very unpleasant to have it hit, Especially when there's no hair on it.

I took up my gun, and I said, "Now why, Little black monkey, should you not die? I'll hit you soon in a vital part, It may be your head, or it may be your heart."

I steadied the gun, and I aimed it true: The trigger it snapped, and the bullet it flew; But just where it went to, I cannot tell, For I never _could_ see where that bullet fell.

Little black monkey still sat in the tree, And placidly, wickedly, grinned at me: I took up my gun, and walked away, And postponed his death till another day.

LAURA E. RICHARDS.

THE LITTLE SCISSORS-GRINDER.

WILLIE is a three-year-old darling. This summer he visited his aunt in the city, and was very much interested in the curious sights and sounds which abound there.

A few days after his return home, when his mamma sat on the piazza with some friends, Willie marched up the gravel path with his little wheelbarrow on his back.

He stopped at the foot of the steps, set his burden down, resting it upon the handles, so that it stood upright. Then holding it with one hand, and rolling the wheel with the other, he kept his foot rising and falling, just as if he were at work with a genuine treadle. He looked very sober, and said, "Please, madam, have you any scissors to sharpen?"

The ladies handed him several pairs, which he ground in the best style, trying the edge with his finger, and at last passing them to the owner with the request for ten cents.

Mamma gave him a bit of paper, which he put into his pocket, returning the change in the form of two leaves.

When he had finished his task, he shouldered the wheelbarrow, and was saying "Good-afternoon," when one of the party ran after him, calling to him to kiss her.

"Scissors-grinders don't kiss," he said; but the fun sparkled in his bright black eye, and he burst into a hearty laugh, which must have been a relief to the merry boy after being sober so long.

MRS. G.

THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW.

Words by MARIAN DOUGLAS. Music by T. CRAMPTON.

1. The north winds blow o'er drifts of snow. Out in the cold who goes from here? "Good-by! good-by!" loud voices cry; "Good-by!" returns the brave Old Year. But looking back what word leaves he? "Oh, you must all good children be!"

2. A knock, a knock! 'tis twelve o'clock! This time of night, pray who comes here? Oh, now I see, 'tis he! 'tis he! All people know the glad New Year! What has he brought? and what says he? "Oh, you must all good children be!"

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.

PREMIUMS.

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SECTION I.

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