Part 17

"From my crystal palace, far in the North, I have come since dark,--and see These curious things for the little folk Who live on the Zuyder Zee."

Then seating himself in his reindeer sledge, And drawing me down by his side, He whistled, and off on the wings of the wind We flew for our midnight ride.

But first, such comical presents he left For the little Dutch girls and boys,-- Onions and sausages, wooden-faced dolls, Cheeses and gingerbread toys!

Away we hurried far to the South, To the beautiful land of France; And there we showered the loveliest gifts,-- Flaxen-haired dolls that could dance.

Soldiers that marched at the word of command, Necklaces, bracelets and rings, Tiny gold watches, all studded with gems, And hundreds of exquisite things.

Crossing the Channel, we made a short call In Scotland and Ireland, too; Left a warm greeting for England and Wales, Then over the ocean we flew

Straight to America, where by myself, Perched on a chimney high, I watched him scramble and bustle about Between the earth and the sky.

Many a stocking he filled to the brim, And numberless Christmas trees Burst into bloom at his magical touch! Then all of a sudden a breeze

Caught us and bore us away to the South, And afterwards blew us "out West;" And never till dawn peeped over the hills Did we stop for a moment's rest.

"Christmas is coming!" he whispered to me, "You can see his smile in the sky,-- I wish Merry Christmas to all the world! My work is over,--good-bye!"

Like a flash he was gone, and I was alone,-- For all of this happened to me Once on a time, in a queer little town On the shore of the Zuyder Zee!

M. M.

Little Bennie

I had told him, Christmas morning, As he sat upon my knee, Holding fast his little stockings, Stuffed as full as can be, And attentive listening to me, With a face demure and mild, That old Santa Claus, who filled them, Did not love a naughty child.

"But we'll be good, won't we, moder?" And from off my lap he slid, Digging deep among the goodies In his crimson stockings hid. While I turned me to my table, Where a tempting goblet stood, Brimming high with a dainty custard, Sent me by a neighbour good.

But the kitten, there before me, With his white paw, nothing loth, Sat, by way of entertainment, Lapping off the shining froth; And, in not the gentlest humour At the loss of such a treat, I confess I rather rudely Thrust him out into the street.

Then how Bennie's blue eyes kindled; Gathering up the precious store He had busily been pouring In his tiny pinafore, With a generous look that shamed me Sprang he from the carpet bright, Showing, by his mien indignant, All a baby's sense of right.

"Come back Harney," called he loudly, As he held his apron white, "You shall have my candy wabbit;" But the door was fastened tight. So he stood, abashed and silent, In the centre of the floor, With defeated look, alternate Bent on me and on the door.

Then, as by some sudden impulse, Quickly ran he to the fire, And while eagerly his bright eyes Watched the flames grow high and higher, In a brave, clear key he shouted, Like some lordly little elf, "Santa Kaus, come down the chimney, Make my mother 'have herself."

"I'll be a good girl, Bennie," Said I, feeling the reproof; And straightway recalled poor Harney, Mewing on the galley roof. Soon the anger was forgotten, Laughter chased away the frown, And they gambolled 'neath the live oaks, Till the dusky night came down.

In my dim, fire-lighted chamber Harney purred beneath my chair, And my play-worn boy beside me Knelt to say his evening prayer: "God bess fader, God bess moder, God bess sister," then a pause, And the sweet young lips devoutly Murmured "God bess Santa Kaus."

He is sleeping: brown and silken Lie the lashes, long and meek, Like caressing, clinging shadows, On his plump and peachy cheek; And I bend above him, weeping, Thankful tears; O undefiled; For a woman's crown of glory, For the blessing of a child.

Annie C. Ketchum

[Page 77--Santa Claus Land]

[Illustration: Santa Claus filling the Stockings.]

Old Santa Claus

Old Santa Claus sat alone in his den, With his leg crossed over his knee; While a comical look peeped out at his eyes, For a funny old fellow was he.

His queer little cap was tumbled and torn, And his wig it was all awry; But he sat and mused the whole day long, While the hours went flying by.

He had been busy as busy can be, In filling his pack with toys; He had gathered his nuts and baked his pies, To give to the girls and boys.

There were dolls for the girls, and whips for the boys, With wheelbarrows, horses and drays, And bureaus and trunks for Dolly's new clothes; All these in his pack he displays.

Of candy too, both twisted and striped, He had furnished a plentiful store, While raisins and figs, and prunes and grapes, Hung up on a peg by the door.

"I am almost ready," quoth he, quoth he, "And Christmas is almost here; But one thing more--I must write a book, And give to each one this year."

So he clapped his specs on his little round nose, And seizing the stump of a pen, He wrote more lines in one little hour Than you ever could write in ten.

He told them stories all pretty and new, And wrote them all out in rhyme; Then packed them away with his box of toys To distribute one at a time.

And Christmas Eve, when all were in bed, Right down the chimney he flew; And stretching the stocking-leg out at the top, He clapped in a book for you.

Santa Claus and the Mouse

One Christmas Eve, when Santa Claus Came to a certain house, To fill the children's stockings there, He found a little mouse.

"A merry Christmas, little friend," Said Santa, good and kind. "The same to you, sir!" said the mouse, "I thought you wouldn't mind

If I should stay awake to night, And watch you for a while." "You're very welcome, little mouse," Said Santa, with a smile.

And then he filled the stockings up, Before the mouse could wink,-- From toe to top, from top to toe, There wasn't left a chink.

"Now, they won't hold another thing," Said Santa Claus with pride. A twinkle came in mousie's eyes, But humbly he replied:

"It's not nice to contradict-- Your pardon I implore,-- But in the fullest stocking there, I could put one thing more."

"Oh, ho!" laughed Santa, "silly mouse! Don't I know how to pack? By filling stockings all these years, I should have learned the knack."

And then he took the stocking down From where it hung so high, And said: "Now put in one thing more; I give you leave to try."

The mousie chuckled to himself, And then he softly stole Right to the stocking's crowded toe, And gnawed a little hole!

"Now, if you please, good Santa Claus, I've put in one thing more; For you will own, that little hole Was not in there before."

How Santa Claus did laugh and laugh; And then he gaily spoke; "Well, you shall have a Christmas cheese, For that nice little joke."

A Nice Little Present

"Our Santa Claus," cried Bettie, "Is nice as any other; He brought the nicest present To me and to my mother.

"It was--oh, you can't guess it-- A darling little brother. He kicks and cries, and shuts his eyes, And he's sweet enough to eat.

"I'd rather have my baby brother Than dolls or candy--so would my mother."

The Night Before Christmas

Curly heads, so softly pillowed; Chubby arms outspread; Thousand fancies swiftly flying Through each little head.

Clasping treasures newly garnered, Dolly, book, and ball, Still they dream of coming pleasures Greater than them all.

Christmas-trees of gorgeous beauty, Filled with presents rare; Toys unheard of, joys unnumbered, All delights are there.

Angel forms, with smiling faces, Hover round the bed; Angel feet make echoing music As they lightly tread.

Angel voices, softly thrilling, Chant a lullaby: "Darlings, dream, and sweetly slumber, We are watching by."

Who from dreams like these would waken To a world of pain? "Hush, then, dear ones! Have we roused you? Turn and dream again."

[Illustration: Baby waking up nearly caught Santa Claus.]

[Page 78--Santa Claus Land]

[Illustration: Annie and Willie Praying.]

Annie And Willie's Prayer

'Twas the eve before Christmas; good night had been said, And Annie and Willie had crept into bed. There were tears on their pillows, and tears in their eyes, And each little bosom was heaving with sighs;

For to-night their stern father's command had been given, That they should retire precisely at seven Instead of at eight; for they had troubled him more With questions unheard of than ever before.

He had told them he thought this delusion a sin; No such creature as "Santa Claus" ever had been; And he hoped, after this, he should never more hear How he scrambled down chimneys with presents each year.

And this was the reason that two little heads So restlessly tosses on their soft, downy beds. Eight, nine, and the clock on the steeple tolled ten; Not a word had been spoken by either till then;

When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep, And he whispered: "Dear Annie, is 'ou fast asleep?" "Why, no, Brother Willie," a sweet voice replies; "I've long tried in vain, but I can't shut my eyes;

"For somehow it makes me so sorry because Dear Papa has said there is no Santa Claus. Now we know there is, and it can't be denied For he came every year before dear mamma died;

"But then, I've been thinking, that she used to pray,-- And God would hear everything dear mamma would say,-- And, maybe, she asked him to send Santa Claus here With the sack full of presents he brought every year."

"Well, why tannot we p'ay, dust as mamma did, den, And ask Dod to send him with presents aden?" "I've been thinking so, too;" and without a word more Four little bare feet bounded out on the floor,

And four little knees on the soft carpet pressed, And two tiny hands were clasped close to each breast, "Now, Willie, you know, we must firmly believe That the presents we ask for we're sure to receive;

"You must wait just as still till I say the 'Amen,' And by that you will know that your turn has come then.-- "Dear Jesus, look down on my brother and me, And grant us the favours we're asking of Thee.

"I want a wax dolly, a tea-set and a ring, And an ebony work-box that shuts with a spring. Bless papa, dear Jesus, and cause him to see That Santa Claus loves us as much as does he.

"Don't let hem get fretful and angry again, At dear brother Willie and Annie. Amen." "Dear Desus, 'et Santa Taus tum down to night And bring us some p'esents before it is 'ight;

"I want he sood div' me a nice little sled, Wid bight shinin' 'unners, and all painted 'ed A box full of tandy, a book, and a toy, Amen. And den, Desus, I'll be a dood boy."

Their prayers being ended, they raised up their heads, And with hearts light and cheerful again sought their beds; They were soon lost in slumber both peaceful and deep, And with fairies in dreamland were roaming in sleep.

Eight, nine, and the little French clock had struck ten Ere the father had thought of his children again; He seems now to hear Annie's self-suppressed sighs, And to see the big tears stand in Willie's blue eyes.

"I was harsh with my darlings," he mentally said, "And should not have sent them so early to bed: But then I was troubled: My feelings found vent; For the bank-stock to-day has gone down two percent.;

"But of course they've forgotten their troubles ere this, And that I denied them the thrice-asked-for kiss; But just to make sure I'll steal up to their door-- To my darlings I have never spoke harshly before."

So saying, he softly ascended the stairs, And arrived at the door to hear both of their prayers; His Annie's "Bless papa" drew forth the big tears, And Willie's grave promise fell sweet on his ears.

"Strange, strange! I'd forgotten," he said with a sigh, "How I longed when a child to have Christmas draw nigh I'll atone for my harshness," he inwardly said, "By answering their prayers ere I sleep in my bed."

Then he turned to the stairs, and softly went down, Threw off velvet slippers and silk dressing gown. Donned hat, coat and boots, and was out in the street, A millionaire facing the cold, driving sleet!

Nor stopped he until he had bought everything, From the box full of candy to the tiny gold ring: Indeed, he kept adding so much to his store, That the various presents outnumbered a score.

Then homeward he turned, when his holiday load, With Aunt Mary's help, in the nursery was stow'd. Miss Dolly was seated beneath a pine tree, And the side of a table spread out for her tea;

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]

[Illustration: Boy Nailing up his Father's Trousers.]

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

[Illustration: Sign for Santa, asking for Bicycle or Pony.]

[Page 80--Santa Claus Land]

[Illustration: What the Rich Man's Child got.]

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