®fje Htbrarp of rtjc Wlnitevstity of JSortft Carolina 'v . * KHISS KRINGLE'S CHRISTMAS TREE HOLIDAY PRESENT BOYS AND GIRLS PHILADELPHIA: PUBLISHED BY GRIGG & ELLIOT. 1847. Entered according to the Act of Congress, m the year 1845, by E. FERRETT & CO. in the office of the clerk of the District Court of the United States in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. B. M. DUSENBERY, STEREOTYPER. GROSSMAN AND WORLEY, PRINTERS. ADVERTISEMENT Fashions change, and of late Christmas Trees are becoming more common than in former times. The practice of hanging up stockings in the chimney, corner for Kriss Kringle to fill with toys, pretty books, bon-bons, &c, for good children, and rods for naughty children, is being superseded by that of placing a Christmas Tree on the table to await the annual visit of the worthy Santa Klaus. He has, with his usual good nature, accommodated himself to this change in the popular taste ; and having desired a literary gentleman to prepare his favourite Christ- mas present in accordance with this state of things, the following volume is the result of the new arrange- ment, and all parents, guardians, uncles, aunts, and cousins, who are desirous to conform to the most ap- proved fashion, will take care to hang one, two, or a dozen copies of the book on their Christmas Tree for 1847. CONTENTS Page The Mysterious Cup, - 9 Fiery Water, - - 14 The Charitable Widow, - 17 The Rain, - - - - 19 Everything for the Best, 20 The Little Maid and the Farmer Boy, - - 22 The Discontented Tree, - 24 The Christmas Tree, - 26 Weeds and Flowers, - 28 The Field Mouse, - 31 The African Wood Pigeon, 35 The Peaches, 36 The Little Tree that went Walking, - - 37 The Rabbits, - 40 The Three Swans, - 42 The Sheep, ... 46 The Great Bird of Para- disc - - 49 The Flowers, - - 50 A Windy Day, - - 59 The Village Blacksmith, 57 The Old Saddle and Crutches 59 How to be Great, - 66 The White Pigeon, - 69 Page The Social Bullfinch, - 73 The Christmas Gift, - 74 Who made the Pigeons ? 78 The Golden Boy, - 82 The Cedar Bird, - - 89 The Strawberries, - 92 The Picture, - 94 Rice Bird, or Bob-O'Linkum, 99 The Fox and the Cock, - 102 The Unknown Patient, 104 The Reconciliation, - 110 The Rain Drop, - 113 The Common Bullfinch, 1 1 7 The Chinchilla, - - 121 Willy and the Beggar Girl, 123 LaGalette - - 129 The Arbor, - - - 131 The Kitchen, - - 135 Disobedience, - - 137 Magic Picture, - - 142 Pride, - - - - 143 The Lion and the Ass, 146 The Lamp Lighter, - 149 The English Cabriolet, 153 Travelling among the Alps, 157 The Bee, ... 158 Cvi) LIST OF EMBELLISHMENTS. Page Page The Mysterious Cup, 9 Boys Playing Ball, 91 Child at Prayer, - 13 Tail Piece, 93 The Charitable Widow, - 16 The Picture, - 94 Boy and Precipice, 21 Girl Swinging, - 96 The Little Maid and the Rice Bird or Bob O'Linkun , 98 Farmer Boy, - 22 Indians and Canoe, 101 Child with Fruit, - 23 A Fox, .... 103 Boy and Butterfly, 27 The Unknown Patient, 104 Weeds and Flowers, 28 Boy and Wind Mill, 109 Vase of Flowers, 30 The Sisters, 110 Field Mice, - 32 The Old Oak, 112 African Wood Pigeon, 34 Gathering Fruit, 114 Boy and Cake, 39 The Common Bullfinch, 116 The Rabbits, 40 Boys Flying Kite, 118 Boy Swinging-, 41 The Chinchilla, 120 Swan, - 45 Goat and Kid, - 122 The Great Bird of Paradise, 48 Woman Sweeping, - 126 A Windy Day, - 52 La Galette, 128 Boys Skating, 54 The Arbor, - 131 The Village Blacksmith, 56 School Boys Playing, - 134 Boy and Grayhounds, 65 The Kitchen, 135 How to be Great, 66 Boy and Vine, - 137 A Young Student, 68 Trading with Indians, - 145 Pigeon, ... 70 The Lamp Lighter, 148 The Social Bullfinch, - 72 Going to Church, - 150 Tail Piece, 77 The English Cabriolet, 152 Birds, - 78 Horseman, - 154 The Cedar Bird, 88 Travelling among the Alps, 156 (vii) THE MYSTERIOUS CUP. Tell us, mother, about the mys- terious cup V\ said Henry. O yes, do, mother !" and all the little folks gathered about mamma. " Did Kriss Kringle bring the cup ?" asked little Susy. " No, dear." " But wont he bring me a beauty of a cup, with my name on it, all in gold ? Wont he hang it on my Christmas tree V 9 (9) 10 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. " If you are a good girl, I think he will, Susy," said mother. " O, I shall have a dear little cup, and Kriss Krin- gle will bring it !" cried Susy, dancing about. " Yes, but I want to hear about the mysterious cup !" said Henry. " I saw a curious picture of it. An old man and a young man at a table, with a book and a cup on it, and a beautiful young woman over it, like as if she were in the clouds. What did it all mean, mother ?" " There was once a boy," began the mother, " and he had an only sister. She w r as very good and very beautiful. But the boy did not love her as he ought to have done. He very often spoke unkindly to her, and never tried to make her happy. One day his father gave him some money, and with this money he bought himself a pretty cup: just such a one as Susy hopes Kriss Kringle will hang upon her Christ- mas tree. When he brought it home, his sister Anna said — " * O brother, what a dear little cup you have got. Do let me see it.' " ' No, I will not !' replied the ill-natured boy. ' It 's my cup, and you shall not have it.' " ' O yes, do, William,' said Anna. ' It is so pretty 1 I wish you would.' And, as Anna said this, she reached out her hand, and took hold of the cup. But, as she did so, William pushed her off so hard, that she fell over upon the floor, and hurt her- self very badly. She did not cry much, and because she did not cry as loud as he would have done, Wil- liam did not think the fall of any consequence. THE MYSTERIOUS CUP. 11 " Anna got up, and went off to her mother's cham- ber, but not until she had dried her tears. After she nad got there, she felt sick, and lay down upon the bed. That night she was taken with a violent fever, from which she never got well. " In the morning, William, who had felt very sorry for what he had done, went into his mother's cham- ber to see Anna ; but she was out of her head, and did not know him. He wanted to tell her he was very sorry, and ask her to forgive him. But he could not, for she was too sick. " In six days she died, and William saw her shut up in a coffin, and buried in the damp cold ground, and she had never spoken to him since he had treat- ed her so unkindly, to say that she forgave him. " Oh, how unhappy he was ! He thought of his unkindness about the cup, and wished a hundred and a hundred times that he had given it to Anna. But it was now too late. She had gone to be with the good angels, who would love her, and always be kind to her. " William grew up to be a young man, but he often thought of his dear sister Anna, and the thought made him feel sad. One day he was sitting alone, and thinking about past times. The sweet face of his sister Anna came up before him, and then he thought about the cup, and felt sad again. He had oeen sitting for what seemed to him about an hour, when the door opened and an old man of a strange appearance came in. He had in his hand a goblet of costly and beautiful workmanship. Around its 12 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. Droad foot ran a wreath of flowers, twined with myr- tles, and various other leaves and fruits. Another ring, only richer, and adorned with figures of chil- dren, and animals playing with them, wound itself Tound the centre of the cup. All within and with- out it sparkled with gold. " The old man looked benignly at William for a little while, and then beckoned to him. William rose and followed. He led him through a garden, in which were flowers, and singing birds, into a beautiful summer house, in the centre of which stood a table. Upon this table he placed the cup he held in his hand, and also a large book, clasped with golden clasps, and then again looked the young man in the face. " After this he poured something into the cup, and instantly there arose a reddish cloud, which floated in circles over the mouth of the cup. A bright point darted up through the cloudy circles, and suddenly as it were, an eye looked out from the midst ; above golden locks flowed in ringlets ; then a smiling face appeared, with its soft blue eyes, delicate cheeks, and lovely mouth ; and William looked upon his long mourned sister. " * Anna! dear Anna !' he cried, springing forward. " The beautiful vision smiled lovingly upon him, and then vanished from his sight. All became sud- denly dark around him. When he again looked up, he was sitting in his own room." " O mother ! Was all that true ? Did he see his sister V s THE MYSTERIOUS CUP. 13 " In a dream he did, Henry." " Was it all a dream then, dear mother." " Yes, my love. But it was a good dream to him; for when he thought of his sister again, he did not feel sad ; he knew that she had forgiven him, and that she loved him more than ever she did." " She was an angel, was she not, mother ?" " Yes, dear. An angel in heaven. And she loved her brother very much." " And we shall all be angels, if we are good," said Susy. " Oh yes. All of us," replied the mother, wiping the moisture from her eyes, that her dear children's questions had caused to rise there. Mothers al- ways love to have their children think and talk about heaven and the angels. 14 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. FIERY WATER. HAT is not thine, child, that do thou never touch, because it burns. 'A boy once had his heart burnt out, because he had stolen. This boy used to take every- thing he saw, without asking leave, although he knew it was a sin. He once stole two pieces of lime, and hid them inside his jacket, and going away, he met another boy, who was taking the horses into the wa- ter. Well, our little thief jumped on one of the horses, and the two boys went in this manner into the water to let the horses drink. When he got in some distance, his horse fell down, and he was thrown off, and began to swim ashore. Suddenly he screamed out, " Help ! help ! I am burning." The people about took no notice, for they knew that water could not burn him. But long before he could reach the land, he was dead, quite dead, and his heart burnt completely out of him. Remember, child, what is not thine, that do thou never touch, for it will burn you in your conscience, if no- where else. THE CHARITABLE WIDOW. (16) THE CHARITABLE WIDOW. 17 THE CHARITABLE WIDOW. A FRENCH STORY. OULD you visit the suburbs of Paris, and enter some of those hum- ble dwellings, you would, no doubt, discover many such families as the one I am about to describe. A woman of thirty years old, lives in the Faubourg St. Antoine, occupying a miserable little room in a fifth story. She is a widow, with four children. Her husband, an honest mechanic, had fallen sick, and died, leaving her with these four children to provide for ; the eldest of whom was only seven years old. Understanding the necessity of prompt exertion, she dried her tears, and thought only of procuring bread for the orphans. There are, among the lower classes, some whom sorrow and suffering cannot dishearten — who receive all misfortunes without a murmur, as if it were but their due. Energy can, in most cases, accomplish its ends. By dint of labour, this poor widow succeeded in keeping her children from starving. She rose at daylight, and sat up late, working by the dim light of a poor lamp, doing as much as any two other 2 18 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. women, and keeping up, all the while, an appearance of strict cleanliness and order in her little home. For her there was no recreation, no afternoon walk, no rest ; but she never complained. Her eldest daughter is now ten years old, and already begins to assist her mother. She teaches the younger ones to read, whilst the little boy of three years old, rolls over the floor, and says he wants to be a man, and earn money to buy something pretty for " mamma." Sunday mornings the widow gets up a little earlier than usual, and dresses them all in their best clothe so that when they go out, every one is struck wi the extreme neatness of their appearance. At meal times, the widow gives each child its portion of bread : there is enough, and but enough. But if a beggar happens to knock at the door, it 13 always opened to him. " My children," says the widow, " here is one who has still less than we, for we have enough to live on. Let us each try and do with a little less ; arid we will then have some for him." At these words, the children are willing to share their meal with the destitute. Far from complain- ing, one says, " I might have given more ;" another I am not hungry, to-day." Even the youngest cries out, " Give the poor man all my bread. When I am a man, I shall have plenty." The widow embraces her children, and is happy. THE RAIN. 19 THE RAIN. HE rain, the rain, the dripping rain, I love its friendly patter, As it taps upon my window pane, Singing spatter, spatter, spatter. I love to feel it on my face, In the warm summer weather ; It kisses me with such a grace, We are good friends together. I like to see the toadies hop, They are so very funny ; And love the rain so, every drop, More than the bee his honey. I *ve counted twenty in a bunch, After a summer shower, But where they came from all at once, Defies my guessing power. I love to hear the thunder peal, And watch the lightning's gliding. The little birds no terror feel, Should I be less confiding 1 20 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. But oh ! I love much more to see, The brilliant bow of heaven ! That just a moment looks on me, Then melts like light at even. Mother says, that the tears that are real and true, Which come from the wish for Tightness, Make a bow in our hearts, when Love peeps through, And fills them with its brightness. EVERYTHING FOR THE BEST. NE evening a good old man came to the gates of a town and knocked for admittance. It happened, how- ever, that no one opened unto him, and he was obliged to pass the nigh on the road side, in the open air. all for the best," said he, and laid himself down. At his side stood his lantern, and his ass. In the night there came a rain and put out his light. EVERYTHING FOR THE BEST. 21 " It is all for the best," said the old man. A lion came along and eat up his ass. " It is all for the best," said the old man. And he patiently waited for the dawn. In the morning, he found the gates open, the city plundered and laid waste. A troop of robbers had been there all night, and had made the inhabitants prisoners, and robbed them of all they possessed. Then exclaimed the old man, " It is indeed for the best that I did not enter the city in time to share the melancholy fate .of these citizens." 22 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE LITTLE MAID AND THE FARMER BOY. OT shines the sun From the sky of June ; And the hours have passed Until almost noon ; And the farmer boy Hath aweary grown, And sits himself down On an old gray stone, There to rest for awhile From his labor, and then To plough with old Dobbin And Tom again. THE LITTLE MAID AND THE FARMER BOY. Tired and thirsty, He sat in the shade, When there came, singing gaily, A neat little maid. She had been to the spring With her pitcher and cup, To dip from its bosom The cool water up. " O give me a drink," The farmer boy said, " A drink from your pitcher, My good little maid." The maid stopt and gave him Cool water, and then, The farmer boy went To his ploughing again. 23 24 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE DISCONTENTED TEEE. 3 TREE stood in the wood, which bore long sharp thorns, instead of leaves. This made the tree unhappy and dis- contented. So it complained very much, saying, " All my companions have leaves, beautiful leaves — whilst I must content myself with these ugly thorns. Oh, how I wish I had leaves, all of solid gold 1" Night came on — the tree went to sleep and woke again early in the morning, and behold, he had a fine set of golden leaves. "Now am I indeed proud," said he — " no other tree in the forest has golden leaves." But, as evening approached, there came a Jew hrough the wood, with a great bag and a great beard. He saw the golden leaves, broke them all off, put them in his sack, and went on his way. Then lamented the tree his melancholy fate, say- ing, " Alas, me ! my golden leaves are all gone ; how I wish I had leaves of clear bright glass." Night came on — the tree went to sleep and woke again early in the morning; and, behold, he had a fine set of clear, bright glass leaves. " Now am I THE DISCONTENTED TREE. 25 indeed proud," said he — " for no other tree in the forest has glass leaves. No tree glitters as I do in the morning sun." But there came a great wind, and a violent storm, and the glass leaves lay strewed around in melan- choly ruin. Then lamented the tree his sad fate, saying, " My beautiful leaves of glass lie in the dust, whilst my companions still retain their green ones. Oh, how I wish I too had green leaves like them." Night came on. The tree went to sleep, and woke again early in the morning, and, behold, he was covered with bright green leaves. He laughed out loud for joy, saying, "Now, indeed, am I beau- tiful, and need not be ashamed of myself!" But there came a wild goat with her young ones, seeking tender new leaves for food, and they at- tacked the poor tree, and eat off every leaf to the stump. Then was the tree again empty, and said to him- self with tears, " Now I wish for no more leaves, be lhey green, yellow, or red. But give me back my own thorns that I once despised so much, and joy- fully will I greet them and be content." Night came on — the little tree went to sleep, and woke again early in the morning, and, behold, he laughed, and laughed again, in the sunshine ; and all the trees around laughed too, till the echo rang through the forest. Why did the little tree laugh, and why did the other trees laugh around him ? 2 26 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. Because, in the night, all his sharp thorns had come back. If any one will go into the forest, he may see for himself, but he had better not touch the thorns. Why not '\ Because they will wound him with their sharp points. THE CHRISTMAS TEEE. ARLY one Christmas Eve, a poor little child, who had no parents, walked through the town. He saw in every window* the customary illu- minations, and, looking through into the houses, he saw many and many a gaily decked Christmas tree. The little child wept, and said, every child has a Christmas tree, but I am poor and for- saken, and have none. I am alone in this strange land. Will no one let me in at any house, so that I, too, may enjoy some of the merriment ? And he knocked at gate and door, but no one heard him, for it was Christmas Eve — no one had any ears for the poor little child in a strange land. " Oh, Jesus Christ," prayed the little child, " I THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 27 have no mother nor father, and am alone in a strange land ; and no one will open a door unto me, so that I may go in, and be merry." The little child rubbed his hands, for they were stiff with cold, and he stood still in the narrow street. Lo, a shining light moved down the street, and the little child beheld another child in shining white clothes coming towards him. " I am Christkindlein," said the child, " and I will not forget you, when you are forgotten by every one else. You have no house to go to, but I will give you a beautiful Christmas tree, here, in the street.*" And Christkindlein held his hand up towards heaven, and a beautiful star-spangled Christmas tree shone in the sky — so far, and yet so near — and the stars glittered and the little child looked on his heavenly Christmas tree with great joy. It w r as to him like a dream ; for angels came down and carried him up to the tree. The poor little child is now gone back to his na- tive place, but he does not forget his heavenly Christmas tree. 28 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. WEEDS AND FLOWEKS. OUNG Willy Thompson had lived all his life in a large city, and had only seen the flowers growing in the pots and small garden beds. When he was ten years old, he was sent to the house of an uncle, who lived in the country far away from town. On the morning after his arrival, he walked out with his uncle to look at the many objects so attractive to the eyes of a city lad. The chickens, the ducks, and WEEDS AND FLOWERS. 29 the geese, the cows and horses, the sheep and oxen all were looked at and admired. " Come Willy, let us now go into the garden, ana see the flowers," said the kind uncle, after he had shown him all the curiosities of the barn-yard. And Willy ran gladly after his uncle. " O, see ! what a beautiful flower," and Willy stooped down, and was about plucking the blossom of an offensive weed. " No — no, Willy," said his uncle, " don't touch that! It isn't a sweet flower, only a vile weed. Come along with me, and I will show you plenty of real, beautiful, sweet smelling flowers." So Willy went on with his uncle, and soon came to the garden, filled with the loveliest flowers of the season. '* Now, my boy, gather as many as you please," said his uncle, and Willy soon had both hands full of the sweetest flowers in the garden. As they went back to the house, they passed the gay weed that Willy had stooped to pluck. " But why isn't that a sweet flower, too, uncle ? It is very pretty." Willy's uncle stooped down and pulled the blos- soming weed, and handing it to the boy, he said — " Smell it." Willy smelled it, and then threw it quickly on the ground. " Now, smell this rose." " Oh, how sweet ! But that weed smelled very bad." " You now see that there is some difference be- 30 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. tween a flower and a weed. One is not only beau- tiful to look upon, but its quality is different, and that quality sends forth a delicious odor. As you grow older, my dear boy, and enter into the world as a man, remember how you were once deceived by a weed. Do not place confidence in every one who puts on a show of goodness — who presents a beauti- ful and attractive exterior — but judge by the order that proceeds from them ; that is by the acts that show forth their true character. THE FIELD MOUSE. 31 THE FIELD MOUSE, BY MRS. M. E. ROBBINS. OOR, wee mousie, What can you do? Your nice little house The plough has passed through. All scattered wide Are your nuts and grains, And your bits of moss Which cost such pains. Ah ! very sad I know you '11 be, When you come back, Such waste to see. You will not sit And grumble though ; But look about For what you may do, To build yourself Another nest, Where you and your wee ones. May safely rest. 32 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. Do find a place Where ploughs don't come, Nor owls or weasels Ever roam. Little brown mouse, I grieve for you ; And being sorry Is all I can do. When many sad things To vex me come, I '11 think of you And your spoiled home, And go to work Right cheerfully, And make the best Of what must be. il^lg THE AFRICAN WOOD PIGEON. (34) THE AFRICAN WOOD PIGEON. 35 THE AFRICAN WOOD PIGEON. NQUESTIONABLY this is a very beautiful bird ! She was brought from the southern part of Africa, where she was living in the woods, very quietly bringing up her little family of white-headed pigeons, like herself, when, one day, a Hottentot, who had been promised a silver dollar for one of these beautiful birds, contrived to surprise her as she was sitting on her nest and carried her off with her little ones, to a rich English merchant at Cape Town. Poor bird ! She was in a great deal of trouble ; and although he gave her a beau- tiful cage to live in, she was separated from her children, and mourned and mourned for many days, till, at last, one morning when the servant came to give her her breakfast of seeds, he found the poor little white-headed pigeon lying on her back in the cage. She had died of grief. 36 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE PEACHES. IVE beautiful peaches were once brought from the town by a coun- 'tryman. His children looked upon this fruit for the first time, and were very much astonished, and admired its beautiful form and colour. The countryman gave one to his wife, and one to each of the four boys. At evening, as the boys were going to bed, the father asked them — " How did you like the peaches?" " It was delightful, father," answered the oldest Doy. " I have kept the stone of mine, and will plant it, and have a peach tree." " That is right, my son, and shows a careful dis- position, which well beseems a farmer." " I eat mine," said the youngest son, " and threw the stone away ; and my mother gave me half of hers. Oh, how good it was I so soft and so sweet." " That," said the father, " was a childish act ; it is o be hoped you will improve." " I," said the second son, " picked up the stone which my little brother threw away, and cracked it — there was a sweet kernel in it. But I sold my own peach, and made enough by it to buy several the next time I go to town." The father shook his head, saying, " That was THE LITTLE TREE THAT WENT WALKING. 37 wisely done, but yet — it was not a natural nor a vouthful act. God send that you be never a mer- chant !" " And you, Edmund V* said the father. Edmund replied, " I gave my peach to our neigh- bour's son who has a lever. He did not wish to take it, but I laid it on his bed and ran away." " Who, ' said the father, " has made the best use of his peach ?" " Edmund," was the answer from all sides, but Edmund said nothing. Then the mother embraced nim with tears in her eyes. THE LITTLE TREE THAT WENT WALKING. UST in the edge of a forest stood a ^little tree. It was a very good situa- tion, but busies grew thick on all .sides, and the little- tree thought him- self crowded. Then said he — " I cannot stand here. I will go somewhere else and find a better place, where there are no bushes. I will plant myself there all alone, and dance." The little tree went away and found a solitary place, and he planted himself there, and danced. 38 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. The little tree liked his new place very much. A beautiful stream ran by his feet, and cooled them; the sun shone brightly on his little branches, and a pleasant wind blew about him. and helped him when he danced. The little tree danced and jumped all summer long, until the litile leaves fell from his little head. The little leaves lay on all sides around him, and some in the stream, whilst some danced in the wind. The autumn came, and the little tree grew cold. He called to the stream. " Give me back my little leaves, so that I may have a winder coat." But the stream answered. " I cannot give you back your little leaves, for I have drunk them, and they are far down in the water." Then the little tree turned to the sun and said, " Give me back my little leaves which are strewed about on the ground, for I am very cold." But the sun answered. " I cannot give you back your little leaves, for I have burnt them up in my hot hand." Then the little tree turned to the wind and said, " Give me back my little leaves, for I am cold." And the wind made answer. " I cannot give you back your little leaves. I have swept them over the nills with my wings." Then the little tree stood silent, for he was think- ing, and he thought, "I know now what I will do. I will go back to my old place among the thick bushes and trees." And he went back to his old place and asked of the first tree. " Have you room for me here ?" THE LITTLE TREE THAT WENT WALKING. 39 " No," answered the tree, " there is no room for you." So he asked from tree to tree, and from bush to bush, but there was no room anywhere. So he went sorrowfully on, and was very cold, for he had no leaves ; and he met a man with an axe in his hand, and he said to the man — " I am very cold, and I am afraid 1 shall die ; take pity on me, good man ; cut me down and carry me into your house, and make a fire with me ; this will warm you and me too." The man took his axe, and cut the little tree down, and cut him up into small pieces, and took them home to his house, and put them in the stove, one by one. The largest piece of all, the wood-cutter dropped before our house, and we will bring it .in and make a fire with it, and cook our supper by it. 40 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE RABBITS. COME see the rabbits, And call them " bun, bun," O come see the rabbits, Run, brother, run ! Papa brought them home, And he says they shall stay, And be ours if we'll feed them Three times every day. The dear little rabbits ! I fed them to day, "With leaves from the garden While you were away, THE RABBITS. 41 There are old ones and young ones, Some brown and some white ; And a house where we'll shut them up Safe every night. Their ears are so long, And their eyes are so red, And they nestle so close In their snug little bed ! Come ! see the dear rabbits — O, run brother, run ! They'll come when you call to them, " Bunny, bun, bun !" **~ THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE THREE SWANS. ^ UITE near to a certain town on the Neckar, there is a little sea, of which , the following story is related. » A boy sat once on the shore, and played with the flowers. He was all alone. Often had he looked into the bright clear waters, and wished he could swim ; and as he looked, there came three beautiful white swans towards him. The boy was delighted, and emptied his pockets of all the crumbs he could find eatthtm W nt ° the Water to the swans, who" As they came close to the shore, he stretched out his hands to try to catch them ; but they moved off His desire to possess them became stronger, and perceiving a little board near, he laid it on the water and, seating himself on it, used his hands for a paddle, and followed the swans, who kept iust be- yond his reach. r J * After a while he found himself in the open sea, foTfea^ ^ ^ ° f ^ '* and he trembled But the three swans came up to him with a con- THE THREE SWANS. 43 soling look, as if to reassure him, and as their graceful forms glided past him, he forgot his danger, and once more tried to catch them. In doing so, he fell into the water. The next thing he knew was, that he was in a bed in a splendid castle, and three very beautiful ladies stood near him. " How did you come here V 9 asked one of them. " I do not know. I saw three beautiful swans, and trying to catch them, I fell into the water." " Will you stay with us V 9 asked another. " We will be very kind to you — but, remember, if you stay here three da*ys, you must stay all your life." The boy was so pleased with everything around him, that he said he would stay. Then the three beautiful ladies took him all through the palace, and showed him beautiful and wonderful things. The walls were of gold and silver, while diamonds and pearls were strewed in all directions. Outside there was a garden, with fruit such as he had never seen. The boy had read of Paradise, and he said to himself, " This is it ; I will stay here as long as I live." Weeks and months passed, and new beauties were constantly opening to him, and he never thought of his home. At last, when a year had gone by, there arose in him a longing after his own home. Nothing pleased him any longer. But he concealed his grief, and would hide himself under the trees in the garden, and weep bitterly. And the three sisters saw traces 44 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. of tears in his eyes, and questioned him, but he gave them no answer. One evening, at sun-set, he lay on the borders of a little stream, and in the silence of that hour, there came over him, with great force, the memory of his home, his mother, and his playmates ; and he cried out aloud. Suddenly he heard his own name called — and looking round, he saw an ugly, old, hump-backed woman, who looked at him earnestly. " What do you want T" asked he, in a trembling voice. " He ! he ! he !" grinned the hag ; " I want you to come with me, and leave these ladies you live with. I will take you to your own home." "Never will I go with such as you," answered the boy ; " what ! and leave my benefactresses ! never !" And the old woman turned, and was gone. He could not speak for surprise and astonishment. Then came one of- the beautiful sisters to him, and said, " Because you refused to go with that old woman, we will grant you your wish ; you shall go home again." The boy could not answer them, so great was his delight : but he burst into tears and cried for joy at the thought of seeing his mother again, and for sor- row at leaving the ladies who had been so kind to him. He wished to go, and wished to stay. When he awoke the next morning, he was again THE THREE SWANS. 45 on the banks of the well-known little sea. The three swans were floating on the surface. They nodded to him kindly, and disappeared. In the village there was great joy upon his return. All the people collected round him and listened to his story, and no one believed a word of it. But again, before long, he felt a strong desire to revisit the beautiful country under the sea. This feeling increased every day. He would sit and weep on the banks of the sea, till his cheeks grew pale ; and one day he fell asleep there and never again awoke. ^ 46 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE SHEEP. OTHER, mother, come with me, To the garden walk, and see, Flocks of sheep are in the sky, Resting very peacefully. Now look up and see them there, How soft and white their fleeces are ; Mother, — why ! they are all gone — And the sky is left alone. Then the mother kissed her child ; Told her how the clouds were piled And melted by the mighty sun, As his dazzling course he run. Adelaide looked thoughtfully ; And a tear was in her eye ; For she loved the lambs in heaven, And watched again for them, till even. THE GREAT BIRD OF PARADISE. U8^ THE GREAT BIRD OF PARADISE. 49 THE GREAT BIRD OF PARADISE. ID you ever see a lady wearing on her bonnet a bird of Paradise ? This is a very pretty ornament ; but it is also very cosily, because it has been brought all the way from the East Indies. The bird of Paradise, called the/Great Emerald, of which you here see the picture, has its natural residence in New Guinsa^which, yofi know, is distant thousands of miies>4rom ourjcountry. Even in its own country, if *eosts p. large sum to obtain one because they are not easily caught. Nothing can be imagined more beautiful and brilliant than the plu- mage of these birds. r Ph§ colours are so rich and so beautifully blended, the form so graceful, the feathers so soft, and the hues so changeful, according as the light falls directly or obliquely upon them, that every lady that can obtain one of them, as an ornament for the head, is sure to attract attention, and admiration. We should not forget, however, that rich ornaments are not all that is necessary to make a lady attrac- tive. Grace of manner, politeness, intelligence, and real kindness of heart, are better ornaments than even brilliant birds of Paradise. 50 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE FLOWERS. EAR mother, tell me, are heaven- flowers As bright as those in this world of ours? Are they just as real, and just as sweet, As these which lie beneath our feet?" " Oh, look in your heart, and tell me, dear, Is there not something far brighter there ? The spirit flowers don't droop and die, When the winter wind comes whistling by. " You have often said in a whisper low, * Dear Jeannie's the brightest flower I know ; The love which shines in her soft clear eye, Can never beneath the cold earth mound lie.* " (52) A WINDY DAY. 53 A WINDY DAY. iOU laugh at the picture, children and well you may, for the wind seems to have got into a frolic, and is playing all kinds of pranks with people's hats, coats, dresses, and 'umbrellas. It is raining, too, and that makes the matter so much the worse. The wind blows the umbrellas a-oneside, and down comes the rain, drenching the foot passengers to the skin. " But is it right to laugh at people in the rain, getting all wet 1" asks little Hetty, looking up seri- ously into mamma's face. " I should not like to be out in the rain, and have the wind blow me almost away." " This is only a picture," mamma replies, as she kisses the lips of her little girl. " Yes, but there are people in the picture." " Not live people. Only pictures of people." " And may we laugh at pictures ?" " O yes, Hetty, if you have a mind to." " Well, I don't know," says Jane, older than Hetty by five or six years, " may be if we laugh a Dictures, we v/ill soon laugh at people. And I don' lhink I would like to be laughed at if I were out in 54 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. a rainy day, and the wind were to come and take my umbrella out of my hand, or blow so hard that I couldn't hold it over my head." " I think Jane has had some experience in these things," smilingly remarks Papa. " Didn't she get her new bonnet spoiled, and her parasol broken in the wind and rain last year ?" *' O yes, sure enough," returns mamma ; " Jane can sympathise rather than laugh at the people in the picture. She knows how disagreeable it is to be out in a storm. It is by our own sufferings that we learn to feel for others. And that is a lesson always good to learn. The older we grow, the less we are inclined to make merry over the ludicrous and unpleasant situations that others may be placed in. Still, we cannot help smiling at many things we see around us. But, we should take good care never to smile at vice, nor to be merry at any act of wickedness." The children listened to their mother, and when she had done speaking, turned over the leaves of the book they were examining, and came to more pleasing pictures. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. (56) THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. 57 THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. NDER a spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands ; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms, Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long ; His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat ; He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. "Week out, week in, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow ; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat, and slow, Like a sexton ringing the old kirk chimes When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school, Look in at the open door ; They love to see the naming forge, And hear the bellows roar, 4 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys ; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter's voice, Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard rough hand he wipes A tear from out his eyes. Toiling — rejoicing — sorrowing — Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begun, Each evening sees it close ; Something attempted — something done, Has earned a night's repose. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of Life Our fortunes must be wrought, Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought. THE OLD SADDLE AND CRUTCHES. 59 THE OLD SADDLE AND CRUTCHES. CHAPTER I. In this life we are all dependent upon each other for prosperity and happiness. EAR a little town in France, there once lived an old hunchback, who, in his youth, had had the misfortune- to lose both his legs. His name was Caro. Caro was not rich ; at least he seemed to possess no other pro- perty than an ass, a saddle and a pair of crutches. Caro, although he was a cripple, was not contented to live an idle life; he delivered messages, carried letters to the post office, cleaned boots and shoes, and did everything in his power, to procure an honest subsistence. Some gave him a penny, some more, and some less. Sometimes he was paid in victuals, and sometimes he received an old hat, an old coat, or a half worn out shirt ; so that, no matter how trifling his reward, he always received something for his services. Caro was so good, so industrious, and so honest, that everybody loved him. At a very early hour in the morning, for he was not at all lazy, Caro would start out in search of 60 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. employment. In fine weather he took his crutches and walked, or rather dragged himself along, on his stumps of legs. But when the weather was bad, he mounted his ass and still industriously attended to his little duties. At night he returned and slept at the house of Colas. CHAPTER II. COLAS, ROSETTE AND THE MINISTER. Man is grateful. Colas, my friends, was an honest, industrious and kind-hearted young gardener, who rented a corner of his cabin to old Caro. Caro loved Colas as a father loves his own child ; and this young man, in return for the friendship of his old tenant, rendered him a thousand little services. If the good man were sick, Colas would give him his drink, warm nis soup, make his bed and take care of his ass. Caro was always sure to have a part of Colas' grapes, prunes, pears, radishes and salads. But it must be acknowledged that the hunchback almost always shared with his friend, the gardener, the provisions he brought from the town. Every day, precisely at noon, Caro went into the nouse of the minister. This minister was a worthy THE OLD SADDLE AND CRUTCHES. 61 man, and having a few years before, received some services from the hunchback, which he remembered with gratitude, he desired his servant to give the old man soup, regularly, every day at this hour. The name of this servant was Rosette. She was a pretty, gentle feeling young girl, and was loved by Colas. She, too, loved the gardener* in her heart; but they were both too poor to think of marrying, and, hoping for better days, they continued to love on in silence. CHAPTER III. Do good to men, and they will love you. The situation of the poor crippled hunchback, in- terested the tender-hearted Rosette. When she heard the sound of his crutches on the pavement, as they went toe, toe — " There is Caro," she would say, and run to open the door. Then she would make him come in, give him a chair near the fire, ask after his health, and the suc- cess he had met with during the morning. If he had been unsuccessful, she would try to console him ; but, if fortunate, she would partake of his happiness. She would encourage, chat with, and amuse him ; indeed, this good girl showed him so many kind- nesses that he loved her with all his heart. It is so natural to love those who are good to us. fi9 "* THE CHRISTMAS TREE. When the old man finished eating his soon Rosette would always present him winsome lit! de cacy wh.ch she had put away for him. * . father Caro," she would say, "put these nuts m your pocket; father Caro, eat this apple or father Caro, drink this glass of wine." PP ' iivery day -when the hunchback received some new present from Rosette, blessing her] he wou ]d for; G o°u°AiS^" GOd WilUt ' e da * — d you CHAPTER IV. POOR CABO. Ah! those are sincere tears whieh moisten the graves of the poor One day Rosette missed her old friend The hour of twelve passed by, and no one knocked at tfc "I hope nothing has happened to Caro," said she. sA \ He , De T T S to come «>r his soup." Suddenly she heard a knock at the door. P crutch » 1S n0t Car ° ; that is not the bIow ^ hi* „nf» n.™!!' howe T ver ' a g' ,a «ed with hope and fear to open the door. It was Colas. Colas, with tears n h.s eyes, had come to inform the min ster that Car" THE OLD SADDLE AND CRUTCHES. 63 had died, during the night, with apoplexy. Good Rosette! honest Colas! pure and simple friends! moisten with your tears the cold remains of poor Caro. CHAPTER V. CARo's WILL. Everything which comes from a friend should be dear to us. In the pocket of the deceased was found a paper which contained his last will, which was as follows : " I leave my saddle to Rosette. My crutches I leave to Colas, on condition that he marries no one but Rosette. As for my poor ass, who has served me so faithfully, I beg that the minister will take care of him in his old age. Amen." Caro was buried, regretted and mourned by all who knew him, but more particularly by Rosette and Colas, who felt his loss more than anybody else. Grief, however, like everything in this world, passes away as time rolls on, and the inhabitants of the village began to jest about the bequest of the hunchback. " He has left you his crutches to beat your wife with," one would say to Colas, " It is for this reason," another would say, " that the good man has left the saddle, which, as every body knows, is the symbol of patience, to Rosette." 64 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. Every one added his merry word, and the poor young people, knew not how to reply. However, out of respect to the memory of their friend, they reli- giously preserved the modest legacies which they had received from him. CHAPTER VI. See what may be accomplished by Economy. One day, some time after Caro's death, Colas was sitting at the door of his cabin, thinking of Rosette, when he saw a hog in his garden, devour- ing his cabbages. He ran into his house for a stick, and in his haste picked up one of Caro's crutches, with which he struck the animal such a blow on the back, that it broke in twenty pieces. But what was his astonishment, when he saw a quantity of gold pieces fly out and scatter themselves about on the ground. At first, honest Colas dared not trust his eyes, but when he had gathered up the pieces, felt them, counted them, and turned them over and over, he could doubt no longer. He ran into the house, seized the other crutch, and was surprised that he had never before remarked their unusual heaviness. He broke it. Like the other, it was hollowed out and filled with gold coins. Colas' head was turned with joy; he raised his hands to heaven; he fell upon his knees and thanked God ; he rose, bounded into his humble dwelling, laughed, cried, and blessed the THE OLD SADDLE AND CRUTCHES. 65 memory of his benefactor. Then a thousand plea- sant thoughts came into his mind ; at last he remem- bered the clause in the will which exacted his union with Rosette, and he flew to her. " See ! Rosette," he cried, extending his hands filled with gold. " See !" Rosette opened widely her large black eyes, as Colas related, the cause of his happiness to her. " Ah !" cried she, " and my saddle." They ran together to the garret, where the saddle was deposited. They broke it open, and found it, too, was stuffed with pieces of gold. Colas and Rosette were married. They purchased a little farm, upon which they lived comfortably, and were happy, as they deserved to be. They blessed, to the end of their days the memory of the good, kind Caro, who, by a wise economy had acquired the means to reward, after his death, his disinterested benefactors. THE CHRISTMAS TREE. HOW TO BE GEEAT. 5*3 EORGE, come here with your book "" and tell me what you have been read ing about." " I have been reading about Al- ls exander the Great." " Do you love to read about grea warriors V 9 " O, yes. I have read about Hannibal, ana Julius Caesar, and Xerxes." " Why do you love to read about them, George ?" HOW TO BE GREAT. 67 " Because they were such great men, and could conquer whole nations." " You think they were great men, because they could do all this?" " Yes, indeed." " Who is greatest of all, George V' " God." " Yes, my son. God is greatest of all. But he does not send out armies to conquer and destroy whole nations, and burn up their cities. What is it then that makes him great V' " He made the world, the sun and moon and all the stars. He made everything." " Yes ; and he preserves everything. He does good to all ; sending his rain upon the evil and the good, and making his sun to shine upon the just and the unjust. All that he has done, and all that he is continually doing, is for the good of his creatures. Alexander conquered armies, and destroyed cities because he wanted to be thought a great warrior. He wanted to have dominion over the whole earth, not to do good to others, but because he thought such dominion would make him happier. In seek- ing power over his fellow men, he cared not how much pain and misery he occasioned. The cries of the widow and orphan went up, but they were nothing to him. " God, too, my son, seeks dominion over men, but it is to do them good, not to gain glory. He loves us all for our own sakes, and sends us all the blessings we have. Now if God is greatest of all, 68 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. we can only become truly great by seeking to be like him. How shall we become like him V 9 " By doing good to others." "Yes, George; the truly great man is the truly good man — he who seeks to make others happy. " But is it wrong to be a great warrior ?" "O no: not if the warrior fight in defending his country. Then it is right. Washington was a great man and also a good man. He fought for his country because he loved it, and desired its good. And, should an enemy — a strong and ambitious warrior like Alexander or Caesar, come here with a great army, for the purpose of conquering our happy country, it would not only be right for me and every other man to go out and fight against him, but our duty. When you become a man, it will be right for you to fight for your country. And I hope you will do so, even if you should lay down vour life for it. Then you would be a greater man ;han ever was Alexander." THE WHITE PIGEON. 69 THE WHITE PIGEON. BY MRS. M. E. ROBBINS. DEAR white dove comes every day, To pick up the crumbs which are thrown away, > While Jeannie and I, in the window seat, Watch his snowy neck, and bright red feet. And very softly oft I creep, Outside the door to take a peep ; That I am friendly, he does not know, For he flies away whenever I go. But very soon he comes back again ; And he never minds the snow or rain. Some days he brings with him a brother, Again, four, or five, will come together. How much I wonder if ever he, A carrier pigeon could learn to be, To a nice blue string I could tie a note, And fasten it round his pretty throat ; And bid him fly to Mary's house, And creep slyly in, like a little mouse ; 70 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. And lay the note on dear Mary's table ; She might guess how it came, if she was able. I think she would say some fairy small, Had been to make her a morning call ; And flitted away ere from school she came, Without leaving a card to tell her name. THE SOCIAL BULLFINCH. (72) THE SOCIAL BULLFINCH. 73 THE SOCIAL BULLFINCH. •ERE are two very interesting birds. They are the male and female Social Bullfinch. They are found near the celebrated Mount Sinai in Arabia. All of our little friends have read in the Bible about Mount Sinai upon the top of which Moses received from the Lord the tables of stone, whereon were written the Ten Commandments. It is near this mountain, as we have said, that the Social Bullfinch is found. This bird is be- tween five and six inches long, and is ornamented around the base of the bill with a circle of rich red, going off in spots upon the cheeks. The front is covered with small white feathers of a silvery colour, lightly shaded upon the borders with red ; all the lower parts of the body, the inferior coverts of the tail, are of a brilliant rose colour : the upper parts are ash coloured, lightly tinged with rose : wings and tail brown, with ash coloured borders. The female bird is clad in less gay attire. Her feathers are nearly all brown. 74 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE CHRISTMAS GIFT, OME hither ! come hither, My gentle boy, 'Tis the season of gladness, And fervent joy, For who would not cherish With grateful mirth, The day that tells Of a Saviour's birth ; Come hither ! come hither, Our hearts are free, And among our gifts There is one for thee ; Come — feast thy gaze, On the treasures gay, That stand around thee In rich array ; The glittering baubles, and toys so rare, And choose thee the richest and loveliest there. The boy looked on With wondering gaze On the costly gifts, And the trinkets' blaze ; And his dark eye rested With pleasure's glow, On a mimic courser, THE CHRISTMAS GIFT. 75 As white as snow : " Oh ! Lady— I think He must be the best, With his noble head, And arching crest ; And his light foot raised In the yielding air, As if he were living And breathing there ; But I '11 choose no gift, be it ever so fair, That my poor sick brother can never share. " But the helmet, and breast-plate, And pointed spear, Such as the warriors Of old did wear: And the brave bright cannon That roars so loud, And the trailing colours, And falchion proud ; And the glittering scabbard With gems inlaid, That rivals in brightness The gleaming blade : Oh ! how well I should look When so nobly drest, And I 'd be the Knight Of the stainless crest : And yet — who but myself would these playthings please ? And what could my sister do with these ? 76 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. " But the books — dear Lady ! I'll turn to them, From the martial toy, And the shining gem ; I have heard my mother Say many times, * There are treasures in books, As in hidden mines :' Here is one that is plainer Than all the rest, But I know my mother Loves it best ; 'T is the Bible— Lady, 'T will be at home A dearer treasure Than sword or drum ; And my brother and sister will gladly share The gems of truth that are hidden there." The Lady looked On the happy brow, That glowed with the brightness Of gladness now : She smiled as her glance Met the earnest eye, That meekly awaited Her low reply : " My boy — -thy words Are nobly said, And well — full well Shall thy choice be paid ; THE CHRISTMAS GIFT. 77 For here," and her smile grew brighter still, " Thou shalt find a refuge from every ill. " Should wrongs and sorrows Thy peace invade, • A leaf of healing,' A covering shade ; And should storms grow wild Around thy path, A house of defence From their fiercest wrath : And a sword and shield Shall it be to thee, Guiding thee ever To victory: And a crown of life it shall make thine own, When earthly monarchs are overthrown." H. M. 78 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. WHO MADE THE PIGfEONS ? OME grains of wheat had been dropped from a cart in the road. Little Henry was walking along with his mother, and saw three or four pigeons picking up these grains with their bills. " O mother ! see the pretty pigeons," he cried. "Who made the pigeons'?" " The Lord made them," Henry's mother said. " How did he make them V' asked the little boy. WHO MADE THE PIGEONS ? 79 " When we get to Aunt Sarah's I'll tell you." " Oh, but why can't you tell me now, mother 1 I want to know now." Henry, you see, like a good many other little boys, hadn't much patience. He didn't like to wait for anything. His mother said to him — " I can make you understand me better when we get to Aunt Sarah's, than I can now." " How can you make me understand better then, mother ? Why can't you tell me now 1 I want to know now." Do you know any little impatient boy like Henry ? I think I do ; and could tell his name. But J won't just now, for I think he will try and be better. But what did Henry's mother do 1 Did she tell him then ? O, no ! She told him that good little boys were always willing to wait for anything when their mothers wanted them to do so — no matter whether it were for a story or a piece of cake. They loved their mothers too well not to be patient. Well, as they were on their way to Aunt Sarah's, they soon got there. Aunt Sarah had a nice piece of ginger cake for Henry, who, while eating it, for- got all about the pigeons. As soon as he had eaten it all up, his mother said to him — " Come, now, dear, don't you want to hear about the pigeons ?" " O yes, mother. You said the Lord made the pigeons. Tell me, now, please, won't you, how He made them ?" Then Henry's mother took him by the hand, and 80 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. led him out to Aunt Sarah's pigeon house. It was full of beautiful pigeons; and they fluttered their wings ; and made O ! such a noise as they flew out of the house. But a good many were sitting upon their nests. They looked frightened, and popped their little heads up and down, and turned their round red eyes upon Henry and his mother, saying, as plainly as they could, " Oh, don't hurt us, please." "Don't be afraid, little dears," Henry's mother said ; for she understood what they meant. " We wouldn't hurt you for the world. We 're only going to look at some of your pretty little eggs, and dear little young ones." " Do you see this pretty little egg ?" she then said to Henry ; taking from one of the nests a nice little "O yes, mother. Ain't it beautiful? Give it to me, won't you ?" "No, my dear. You must not touch the pretty pigeon's egg. You might break it, and then the poor bird would be so sorry. A long, long time ago, the Lord made two pigeons, and told them to lay little eggs, just like this one. One of them built her a nest, and in this nest she laid two eggs. And then she sat on them, just like you see these pigeons all around here, and kept them warm, for oh! a good many days and nights. When she was hungry the other pigeon brought her food, and put it in her mouth ; and when it was night, he would come and sit by her in the nest until morning. Sometimes she WHO MADE THE PIGEONS j 81 would get very tired, and then he would sit on the two little eggs for her, while she flew up in the air and on the trees, and all about, stretching her wings, and feeling so free and happy. " At last the two eggs turned into little bits of pigeons, just like these." And as Henry's mother said this, she lifted him up, and let him see two very, very little birds in a nest, with the shells of the eggs, out of which they had come. " O mother ! did these little pigeons come out of two eggs ?" Henry said, clapping his hands with delight. " Yes, my dear. The two little birds that the pigeons I was telling you of hatched out, they fed with worms and seeds until they grew up to be big pigeons, and then they flew away, and laid eggs, and hatched out pigeons, and these laid eggs, too, and hatched out other pigeons, and so it has been ever since, until there are hundreds and thousands of these birds all over the world. Now does my son know who made the pigeons ?" " O yes. The Lord made two pretty pigeons a long, long time ago, and these laid eggs, and sat on them just as these pigeons are doing, and hatched out young ones. And they grew up, and laid more eggs, and hatched out more young ones, and so it has been ever since." "Yes, my dear. And now, as the poor birds nere are still uneasy, and afraid of us, we will go out of the pigeon house, and let them lay their eggs, and hatch their young ones in peace." 6 82 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE GOLDEN BOY, ORE than two thousand years ago, there lived, in a thick forest, a poor peasant, who had built a little wooden house, in which he lived, with his wife and his six children, who were all boys. They had a Very little garden, with a little stream run- ning through it ; and when their father was working out of doors, the boys would go to him at breakfast time and dinner time, and carry him a drink of cool water from the stream, and some berries from the garden. The youngest of these boys had hair as yellow as gold, on account of which, he was called by them, " the golden boy ;" and, although the youngest, he was the tallest and strongest of them all. When they went out exploring in the forest, the golden boy always walked on in front, with a stick in his hand ; for the others were afraid to venture far into the thick dark forest without him. One evening, as they were all returning home with the father, they lingered behind, amusing them- selves with playing as they went along. " Let us go back to the path now, and join father," said the oldest, " for it is getting dark." " There is the moon," said the second boy, as the THE GOLDEN BOY. 83 moon appeared over the tops of the pine trees. Suddenly a female form appeared before tbem, seated on a mossy stone, spinning a slight thread with a crystalline spindle. She nodded her head to the golden boy, and said — The white bird, the golden flower to thee, And the king's crown in the depths of the sea. Her thread broke, when she had sung this, and she disappeared in the moonlight. The boys were very much frightened, and they ran in all directions, endeavouring to regain the well known path. Eight days and nights did the golden boy wander about in the thick forest ; but he found neither his father's hut, nor any of his brothers, nor any trace of mankind. The forest became thicker and thicker; mountain rose above mountain, and cliff above cliff. The berries which grew on all sides, satisfied his hunger, and he found streams of good water. On the eighth day, the wood became less and less thick, and he came out at last, into a beautiful green meadow. Then his heart was light, and he hastened on his way. In this meadow he saw nets spread out every- where, for a bird catcher lived here, who caught the birds that flew out of the forest, and sold them in the towns and villages. " Such a boy as that, is just what I want," thought the bird-catcher, when he saw the golden boy. So he took a net, threw it over his head, and the golden 84 THE CHRISTMAS TRJ1.& boy was caught. He lay astonished under the net, for he could not understand what this meant. " That is the way I catch birds, and so do I catch you," said the bird-catcher ; " your golden feathers are beautiful. Stay with me, and I will teach you to catch birds, too." The golden boy had no objection to stay ; he thought catching birds would be a delightful busi- ness, and he had now entirely given up his hopes of again beholding his parents and brothers. " Let me see how you profit by my lesson," said the bird-catcher, after a few days. " Take the net and go out." The golden boy, taking the net, went out into the meadow, and caught a beautiful white Finch. " A white Finch !" exclaimed the bird-catcher. " Get away from here immediately ; I am sure you are leagued with the Evil one !" And he took him by the shoulders, pushed him out of the meadow, and returning, took the white Finch and trod it under foot till it was dead. The golden boy did not understand the bird- catcher's words ; but he went sorrowfully back into the forest, and again endeavoured to find his father's hut. He wandered day and night, among rocks and thick tangled underwood, often falling over the black roots which protruded from the earth. On the third day, the wood became less and less thick, and at last he came out into a beautiful garden, full of flowers, such as the peasant boy had never before beheld Whilst he was looking around him in THE GOLDEN BOY. 85 amazement, the gardener observed him. He had not seen him before, because his golden hair glistened in the morning sun, and he had taken him for a flower. " Ha !" said the gardener, to himself, " such a boy as that is just what I want." And he shut the garden gate, so that the golden boy could not get out. "Stay with me," said he, "and twill teach you how to take care of the flowers." The golden boy made no objection ; he thought taking care of such beautiful flowers would make him very happy, and he had given up all thoughts of again seeing his parents and brothers. " Go out into the forest," said the gardener, one morning, " and bring me a wild rose-bush." The golden boy went out, and came back with a bush bearing golden roses. " Be off with your golden roses," said the fright- ened gardener, " I do believe you have dealings with the Evil one." And he took him by the shoulder and pushed him out of the garden, and returned and trampled the golden roses into the ground. The golden boy did not understand the gardener's words; but he went back into the forest, and set himself again to seek out his father's hut. He wandered day and night, from tree to tree, and from rock to rock. At last, on the third day, the forest grew gradually less and less thick, and he came out on the shore of a blue sea. bb THE CHRISTMAS TREE. A pretty little fishing bark lay on the strand. He stepped into it, and sat down. " Such a boy is just what we want," said the fishermen, and they pushed out into the sea very quickly. The golden boy made no objection to go with them, for he had entirely given up all hopes of ever again beholding his parents and brothers. The fishermen threw out their nets, but caught nothing. " Here," said an old silver haired fisherman, to the golden boy, " take the net and try what luck you will have." With unskilful hands, the golden boy let down the net into the water, and brought up a crown of pure gold. " Triumph !" exclaimed the old fisherman, and fell at the golden boy's feet. " I greet thee our king. An hundred years ago, the old king, when dying without an heir, threw his crown into the sea, and declared that until it were found, the king- dom should be without a head." " Hail to our king !" cried all the fishermen, and placed the crown upon the head of the golden boy. The story fled from ship to ship on the sea, and they all hastened to greet the boat on which stood the golden-haired king, with his golden crown on his head, looking at the setting sun. As it sank, he remembered, for the first time, the mysterious words : The white bird, the golden flower to thee, And the king's crown in the depths of the sea. THE CEDAR BIRD. (88) THE CEDAR BIRD. 89 THE CEDAR BIRD. HE cedar bird is found in the whole extent between Mexico and Canada, and parties are said occasionally to roam as far south as the forests of Guiana. In the United States it is a resident during the whole year, the northern and middle states being its more usual quarters in the summer, and the southern in the winter season. They utter a feeble lisping sound, and fly in companies of from twenty to fifty ; and usually alight so close together on the same tree, that one half are frequently shot down at a time. Their food is generally berries of the sour gum, and red cedar, of w 7 hich last they are very fond ; and thirty or forty may sometimes be seen fluttering among the branches of one small cedar tree, picking off the berries. In the fall and beginning of summer, when they become very fat, great numbers are brought to the market of Philadelphia, where they are sold at from twelve to twenty-five cents per dozen. Their appetite is extraordinary; they eat so much as sometimes to be unable to fly, and suffer themselves to be taken by the hand. During the whole winter antl spring they are oc- casionally seen ; but, about the 25th of May, they 90 THE CHRISTMAS TREE, appear in great numbers, making havoc among the early cherries, selecting the best and the ripest of the fruit. About this time and the early part of June they begin to breed. The eggs are three or four, of a dingy bluish white, thick at the great end, tapering suddenly and becoming very narrow at the other, marked with small roundish spots of various sizes and shades ; and the great end is of a pale dull pur- ple tinge, marked with touches of purple and black. In about fifteen or sixteen days the young are hatched, and are first fed on insects ; but as they advance in growth, on berries of various kinds. Having endeavoured to give the reader some idea of the cedar bird in a state of nature, we proceed to lay before him an account of its manners in cap- tivity. A young bird having been, by some means, ejected from his cradle, was thrown upon my protection. In this critical situation, however, he had been well fed or rather gorged with berries, and was merely scratched by the fall he had received. Fed on cherries and mulberries, he was soon well covered with feathers, w 7 hile his mate was suffered to perish by the forgetfulness of its natural parents. I soon found my interesting companion impatient of the cage, and extremely voracious, eating until he was filled to the very mouth with the soft fruits on which he was often fed. The throat, in fact like a craw, admits of distention, and the contents are only grad- ually passed off into the stomach. I now suffered the bird to fly at large, and for several days he THE CEDAR BIRD. 91 descended from the trees in which he perched to my arm for food ; but the moment he was satisfied, he avoided the cage, and appeared unable to survive the loss of liberty. He now came seldomer to me, and finally joined the lisping cry, and was enticed away after two or three attempts by his more at- tractive and suitable associates. A young cedar bird frequented the front of a house in quest of honeysuckle berries ; at length, on receiving food, probably also, abandoned by his roving parents, he threw himself wholly on the pro- tection of his benefactor. Day and night he still regularly attended the dessert of the dinner table for his portion of fruit, and remained steadfast in his at- tachment to his master till he was killed by an ac- cident, being unfortunately trodden under foot. 92 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE STRAWBERRIES. HERE is my little basket 1 Said Abba to Mamma ; I wish to take a little walk ; I won't go very far. So please don't ask me, mother, What I have found to do : T is something very pleasant ; You '11 think so when you know. Then Abba took the basket Without another word, And tripped along the green lane As merry as a bird. Then she crept between some bushes, Put her basket on the ground, And, hid beneath a green leaf, A little strawberry found. Another and another Was in her basket placed, Her eyes with pleasure glistened, Though not one she stopped to taste. THE STRAWBERRIES. 93 And when the pretty basket With the ripe red fruit was filled, With flowers and leaves placed over it; Then little Abba smiled. She put it on the table, As soon as she reached home? Nor said one word about it Till supper time was come. I think mamma looked happy, And gave her a sweet kiss, Which made them seem far nicer Than other strawberries. 94 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE PICTURE. OTHER, what does this picture mean?" " Which picture, dear V 9 "Why, this one. Look here. There's a man at a table, with a wine-glass in his hand — I guess he don't belong to the temperance society — and a young man sitting by him, leaning his arms upon the table. Then there is a little girl with something in her hand, which she is bringing in to put upon the table. The THE PICTURE. 95 man points his finger at what she has brought, and I think, don't look pleased." " Well, Alice, what do you make out of the picture ?" " I don't know what to think of it, mother. They can't be eating breakfast, for all the plates look as if they were filled with apples, or, may be, peaches. And there is a pitcher on the table. It can't be dinner either, and, as to supper, I should think apples would make a queer supper. What do you think of it, mother V " I'll tell you what it is !" speaks up George, boldly. " Tell us, then, George," replies mother. " It 's a gentleman and his son, who have gone inio a public house, and called for dinner, and the little girl who is waiting on them has brought them nothing but apples. Of course, the man is scolding her about it, and telling her to go back and bring them something better." " Is that it, mother ? Is George right 1" " I should think it doubtful, Alice." " May be they are all eggs. They look as much like eggs as apples." " I don't believe they are eggs, George," returns Alice. " May be they ain't. But they are something. And I am sure the man is scolding the little girl. Don't you think so, mother ?" " He looks as if he were. But I can't tell. Nor 96 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. do I know whether the plates contain eggs or apples." " Any how, there are no knives or forks to eat with," breaks in George. " What a funny dinner !" " The little girl hasn't set the table right and the man is scolding her. That's it, I know," says Alice. " Perhaps it is," mother replies. " But I can't make much out of it. I think the picture maker might have given us something better." " And so do I," said Alice. " I don't know," returns George. " It 's a funny picture, and has made us try ourselves at guessing, and I guess that hasn't done us any harm." Mother laughed, and Alice laughed, and then they turned to something else in the book, as we hope our little readers will do. MM i zL id RICE-BIRD, OR BOB-'OLINKUM. (98) RICE BIRD, OR BOB-o'LINKUM. 99 RICE BIRD, OR BOB-O'LINKUM. AIL, vocal sprite, — hail, feathered troubadour ! In pilgrim's weeds through many a clime a ranger, Com'st thou to doff thy russet suit once more, And play, in foppish trim, the masking stranger ? Philosophers may teach thy whereabouts and nature ; But, wise as all of us, perforce, must think 'em, The school-boy best has fixed thy nomenclature, And poets, too, must call thee Bob-O'Linkum ! Say ! art thou, long mid forest glooms benighted, So glad to skim our laughing meadows over, — With our gay orchards here so much delighted, It makes thee musical, thou airy rover? Or are those buoyant notes the pilfered treasure Of fairy isles, which thou hast learned to ravish Of all their sweetest minstrelsy at pleasure, And, Ariel-like, again on men to lavish 1 They tell sad storks of thy mad-cap freaks, Wherever o'er the land thy pathway ranges ; 100 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. And even in a brace of wandering weeks, They say, alike thy song and plumage changes. Here both are gay ; and when the buds put forth, And leafy June is shading rock and river, Thou art unmatched, blithe warbler of the North, When through the balmy air thy clear notes quiver. Joyous, yet tender, — was that gush of song Learned from the brooks, where mid its wild flowers, smiling. The silent prairie listens all day long, The only captive to such sweet beguilings ? Or didst thou, flitting through the verdurous halls And columned isles of western groves sympho- nious, Learn from the tuneful woods rare madrigals, To make our flowering pastures here harmonious f Caught' st thou thy carol from Ottawa maid, Where, through the liquid fields of wild-rice plash- Brushing the ears from off the burdened blade, Her birch canoe o'er some lone lake is flashing ? Or did the reeds of some savannah south Detain thee, while thy northern flight pursuing, To place those melodies in thy sweet mouth. The spice-fed winds had taught them in their wooing ? Unthrifty prodigal ! — is no thought of ill Thy ceaseless roundelay disturbing ever ? RICE BIRD, OR BOB-0 LINKUM. 101 Or doth each pulse in choiring cadence still Throb on in music till at rest for ever ? Yet now, in wildered maze of concord floating, 'T would seem, that glorious hymning to prolong, Old Time, in hearing thee might fall a-doting, And pause to listen to thy rapturous song ! 102 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE FOX AND THE COCK, NE winter night a hungry Fox heard a Cock crowing in a tree. Unable to climb, he sat himself down under the tree, and began as follows : " Well, Mr. Cock, how can you sing so well, this cold night ?" " I am announcing the daylight." What ! the daylight 1 How can that be 1 It is now dark night !" Do you not know that morning is at hand, and that it is the custom of our race to fore- tell it?' " This is something really Godlike," answered the Fox ; " I thought only prophets were capable of such wisdom. O, Mr. Cock, well may I wonder at your song !" The Cock crowed again. The Fox began to dance round the tree. " What are you dancing for V asked the Cock. " How can I help dancing, when I hear such music ? You know we must rejoice with the merry. Oh, Cock, you are the prince of birds; you sing much better than any bird I ever heard, and besides, THE FOX AND THE COCK. 103 you can prophesy ! What would I give for an inti- mate acquaintance with so gifted a creature ! O come down, royal bird, and let me embrace you." The silly Cock, delighted with so much flattery, came down to gratify the wishes of the Fox, who, laughing in his sleeve, soon eat up the Prophet. ■^^^^J ^2S 104 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE UNKNOWN PATIENT. H ! dear mamma, you are so good !" said little Charley Murray, as he took from his mother's hands a pretty pic- ture book, she had bought for him that morning. " I am sure I will never disobey you again." Not if you are always kind and grateful," replied the mother, " but little boys like you sometimes forget what their parents tell them, and that always makes them both unhappy." THE UNKNOWN PATIENT. 105 " O, well, but you are so good to me, that I can- not be naughty." " You are very good and obedient now, my dear Charles, but you must take care that, when you grow up to be a big man, you do not become naughty and wicked, like a young man of whom I once read in a story." " O, do tell me the story mamma, I do love to hear you tell your pretty stories !" There lived in Germany, said the mother, a great while ago, a very happy old man and his wife, who had an only child. He was a son, and they loved him very much, for he was good and obedient. When he grew up, he became very anxious to be- come a painter, and he was always drawing pretty pictures and paintings of houses, trees, and land- scapes. So his father, who was a great doctor, and very rich, sent him to Italy, where there were a great many painters to teach him, and a great many pretty paintings to look at, that he might learn how to make pictures himself. The son was very glad to go and see such a beautiful country, and so many pictures, and he joyfully got ready for the journey. But when he came to part with his father and mother, he felt very sorrowful, for he loved them very much. They wept too, when they bid him good-bye, for they knew they would feel lonely when he was gone. They feared, too, that some evil might happen to him, or that he might fall into bad company, and form bad habits when in a strange land, far away from his home. So they gave him a great deal of good ad- 7 106 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. vice, and told him never to forget to pray to God for direction and assistance. They told him, too, to be honest and temperate, and to be very careful what acquaintances and friends he made. He listened to their advice, and promised to do as they wished him in all things, until he returned to them again. Now, he had a long journey to go, before he reached Italy, and he often thought how much he would love to see his dear parents and sit in his own home again. But when he reached Italy, he saw a great many curious sights, and enjoyed himself very much in looking at the wonderful things he had never before seen, and he began to think less about home. By and by he got tired of the city where he was living, and moved into the country, where he could enjoy the fresh air, and walk in the pleasant fields and woods. He found a pretty cottage in a shady grove, in which there lived an old lady and her only daughter, and he thought h*e would love to live with them while he stayed there. The old lady was very poor, and he offered her a good deal of money for his board, so she said he might come to live with her. He lived there, happily, for the place was very quiet and pretty, and he loved to talk to Angela, the daughter of the old lady, for she was both beau- tiful and kind. He loved her very much, and was so good to her, and told her so many pretty stories about Germany, his own country, that she loved him as well as he did her. They spent many pleasant days together, and he promised to take her back with him to Germany, where his parents lived. THE UNKNOWN PATIENT. 107 But at last he began to be absent more than usual from the cottage, and did not talk so much with Angela. The reason of this was, that he got ac- quainted with a very wicked man, who took him away, and learned him to swear, and get drunk like himself. Angela became very unhappy, because he did not love her so well as he had done, but he did not mind her sorrow. One day, after speaking harshly to her, he went away, and never returned to her again. A little while after he had left her so cruelly, her mother was taken sick and died. She felt very lonely where she was, for everything around her made her think of her dear mother, who was dead. She thought she would like better to live in Germany, for Freymond — that was the young man's name — had told her what a pleasant country it was : so she sold the cottage and all the furniture for some money, and came to the very town where he had lived, in Germany. She thought she would love to remain there, so she began to look for some place to support herself. She had been there but a few days, when a man came to the town, bringing with him a black servant, who seemed to be a perfect slave. This man was taken sick at the public tavern, and was near dying, when his servant went to get the doctor, (who was the father of Freymond) to come and see him, and, if possible, to cure him. He was lying on a bed, out of his head, and spoke harshly to the doctor, and swore at him. But the doctor was a good man and very kind, so he did all he could 108 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. to cure the sick man, who seemed to be very wicked. After the patient got into a sleep at night, the doctor went to his house to get some rest. He got up early the next morning, and went out into the fields to ga- ther plants and roots to make medicine for the sick man. While he was in the field, Angela approached him and commenced talking to him, for she had learned how to speak the German language from Freymond. She soon found that he was the father of the young man she loved so well. He asked her who she was, and she told him how she had loved Freymond, and then how he had left her, and that her mother having died, she had come to Germany. The old man, when he heard who she was, and how wicked his son had become, began to weep bitterly, and he and Angela talked together for a long time, as they sat beneath a tree, near by a running brook. At length he said — " God is good to all that call upon his name ; let us pray together." So the two knelt down, side by side, and prayed that God would bring back the poor wandering son. When they had been praying some time, they heard some one sobbing behind them, and looking around, they saw the servant of the sick man, weeping, and stooping over the stream washing his face. When he turned towards them, he had washed the black off his face, and running to them, he sobbed — " I am Freymond ! I have heard you praying for me, and God, too, has heard and answered your prayers. Dear father ! can you forgive your wicked THE UNKNOWN PATIENT. 109 son? 'Angela! I have been cruel to you too— will you love me again V 1 They clasped him in their arms, and they all wept tears of joy together. The young man,* who had been so wicked, was forgiven by his father and An- gela. They then returned joyfully to the home of the old man, where the mother of Freymond wept tears of jov at seeing her long lost son again. The sick man got well slowly, and the good doc- tor, who had saved his life, talked so to him about his wickedness that he was very sorry for it— and became a good man. Freymond and Angela were married a short time after and lived happily together, for Freymond was sorry that he had been so wicked, and had deter- mined to act better as long as he lived. His past wickedness and disobedience had made all around him unhappy, but he afterwards was so kind and gentle to everybody, that he made them all love him. Children who would be happy themselves, and make others love them, must always be good, kind and obedient. 110 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE RECONCILIATION. LIZABETH and Caroline were one day playing in the garden. They had each a separate flower bed, and were always happy when they were watering and weeding them. They loved each other, for they were sisters, and had a good mother, who taught them to be kind. But one day, when they were play- ing together in the garden, Caroline stepped upon a beautiful cluster of violets, that Elizabeth had taken a great deal of care to THE RECONCILIATION. Ill keep free from weeds. Her foot trampled the flow- ers into the soft ground, and broke them off from their stems, so that they were entirely spoiled. Elizabeth was vexed wtth her sister, for she thought a great deal of the violets, and spoke very harshly and angrily. " O ! look, you careless girl, you have spoiled my pretty flowers ! You are always doing something bad to me. Now what shall I do V 1 And she be- gan to cry. "* Caroline tried to comfort her. "I did not mean to do it. I am very sorry ; here are some beautiful roses from my rose-bush. See how blooming they are ! You shall have them in place of the violets !" But Elizabeth only pouted in return, and impa- tiently dashing the flowers to the ground, trampled upon them. Her sister then became angry too, for she saw that her roses were spoiled. So she said, " What a naughty girl you are, to waste my beautiful bunch of flowers, just because I happened to step upon your violets. I won't play with you, you are so ugly." So the two sisters went to playing by themselves, and neither of them would speak to the other. By and by, Elizabeth began to grow tired of the long silence. She was unhappy, because she knew that she had done wrong in speaking so harshly to her sister. She thought how good Caroline had been to her, in offering her the roses, and was very 112 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. sorry for her bad conduct. So she ran to her, and told her she didn't want to be angry any longer, and asked her to forgive her for having been so naughty. Caroline embraced her, and joining their little hands, they promised to be better in future, and not let an angry word come between them to make them unhappy. To be happy, we must be good. THE RAIN-DROP. 113 THE RAIN-DROP. H ! little rain-drop, I 've caught you here, In this white lily bell Shining so clear. And before the sun Takes you away, I want you just One word to say. What do you do Up in the sky, On those soft clouds So far and high ? I 've heard that you make Bright rainbows there, And paint those clouds That float in the air. And more pretty things They say you do, Now, little rain-drop, Is it all true ? 114 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. A sunbeam peeped In the rain drop's eye, And whispered some tale Of its home on high. It glistened a moment," No answer did come, For on the bright sunbeam The rain drop ran home. THE COMMON BULLFINCH. UK!) THE COMMON BULLFINCH. 117 THE COMMON BULLFINCH. N another part of this book we have given our readers a picture of the Social Bullfinch. We now present them with one of the common Bullfinch, a species that is widely spread. These birds are common in most parts of the north of Europe; but in the south they occur only as birds of passage. They are said to winter in Italy. One writer remarks that near the Alps they are called the Winter Finch. They are common in Germany, and it is from that place that most of the piping bullfinches are brought. He also remarks that there are schools for these feathered songsters in Hesse and Fulda. Another writer says that they are found in Japan. In Eng- land the Bullfinch is a constant resident. The upper part of the body is grey. The wings and under parts are red, and the tail black. It feeds on pine or fir seeds, on corn, linseed, and mille^ Its natural song is soft and simple, and so low as to be scarcely heard; but when properly taught, it can whistle musical airs. The female is not so beautiful, nor so easily taught as the male. The best time to teach them is after they have eaten, as is also the case with the Parrot. Nine months are necessary before the bird can be properly taught. They have become 118 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. greatly attached to persons who rear them. They have been known to leave the aviary for a year, and hearing the well-known voice of the person who has reared them, have returned. Others have been known to die of grief, when forced to leave their masters. They will remember an injury. One of them, when thrown down, cage and all, did not seem to notice it at first, but afterwards, if it saw a meanly dressed person, would fall into convulsions. In one of these fits it died. Another, belonging to a lady, was subject to frightful dreams, and under their in- fluence would fall from its perch and beat itself in its cage. But so soon as it heard the voice of its mistress it would become quiet. They are useful in destroying the worms that infest the gardens in spring ; but they are also a source of great vexation to the gardeners, for they destroy the buds of the trees before the blossoms break forth, and are very dainty in their choice of them. They have been known to strip a middling sized plum tree of its buds in two days. Having feasted on the gardens a while, they leave them entirely, and seek the fields and hedges, where the sloe-bush, in April, furnishes them with foed. THE CHINCHTLLA. (120) THE CHINCHILLA. 121 THE CHINCHILLA. Y far the earliest account which we have of this little animal, is taken jfrom a book called " The Natural and Moral History of the East and West Indies," published at a place called Barcelona, in Spain. The writer, in speaking of it, says, " The Chinchillas are another kind of small beasts, like squirrels. They have a wonderful smooth skin, which the natives believe to be healthful, when worn over the chest, and other parts of the body which require a moderate heat." Another writer in speaking of it, says, that among other small beasts, they have one called Chinchillas, whose skin is very delicate, soft, and of a gray color. Its fur is very much prized in Peru and other parts of South America. Few of them come to Spain, be- cause they are very difficult to catch. They are seen in great numbers in Chili, where they are hunted by boys with dogs. It is a sort of field-rat ; in great estimation for the fineness of its wool, which, by some persons is said to be as soft and fine as the web of our garden spider. It measures six inches from its nose to its tail, has pointed ears, teeth like a 8 122 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. house rat, and a long tail clothed with soft fur. It feeds on bulbous roots, or roots that are enveloped with skins, which grow very extensively there, and produces, twice every year, five or six young at a birth. It is timid, gentle, and docile ; so much so, that when it is caught it does not attempt to bite or escape, but seems to delight in being caressed. The offensive smell and uncleanliness of other rats, do not appear in this cleanly little animal. The ancient Peruvians, who seem to have been more industrious than the modern, made coverlets for their beds, and their clothes from its wool. The fur of the Chinchilla is much used as an article of dress by ladies in modern times. Great numbers of them are brought to Santiago and Val- paraiso, from whence they are exported. WILLY AND THE BEGGAR GIRL. 123 WILLY AND THE BEGGAR GIRL. EAR mother, an apple I" Cried Willy, one day, Coming in, with his cheeks Glowing bright, from his play. * I want a nice apple, A large one and red." " For whom do you wish it V His kind mother said. " You know a big apple I gave you at noon ; And now for another, My boy, it 's too soon." " There's a poor little girl At the door, mother dear," Said Will, while within His mild eye shone a tear. " She says, since last evening She 's eaten no bread. Her feet are all naked, And bare is her head. Like me, she 's no mother To love her, I'm sure, Or she 'd not look so hungry And ragged, and poor. 124 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. " Let me give her an apple ; She wants one I know ; A nice, large, red apple, — Oh ! do not say no." First a kiss to the lips Of her generous boy, Mamma gave with a feeling Of exquisite joy — For goodness, whene'er In a child it is seen, Gives joy to the heart Of a mother, I ween — And then led him out, where, Still stood by the door, A poor little beggar girl, Ragged all o'er. " Please ma'am, I am hungry," The little thing said, " Will you give me to eat A small piece of bread V* " Yes, child, you shall have it ; But who sends you out From dwelling to dwelling To wander about 1" A pair of mild eyes To the lady were raised ; * My mother 's been sick For a great many days. WILLY AND THE BEGGAR GIRL. 125 So sick she don't know me." Sobs stifled the rest — And heaved with young sorrow, That innocent breast. Just then from the store-room — Where wee Willy ran, As his mother to question The poor child began — Came forth the sweet boy, With a large loaf of bread, Held tight in his tiny hands High o'er his head. " Here's bread and a plenty ! Eat, little girl, eat !" He cried, as he laid The great loaf at her feet. The mother smiled gently, Then, quick through the door Drew the sad little stranger, So hungry and poor. With words kindly spoken She gave her nice food, And clothed her with garments All clean, warm, and good. This done, she was leading Her out, when she heard Will coming down stairs, Like a fluttering bird. 126 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. A newly bought leghorn, With green bow and band, And an old, worn out beaver, He held in his hand. " Here ! give her my new hat," He cried, — " I can wear My black one all summer, It 's good — you wont care — " Say, will you, dear mother V 9 First out through the door, She passed the girl kindly ; Then quick from the floor Caught up the dear fellow — Kissed and kissed him again, While her glad tears fell freely O 'er his sweet face like rain. LA G ALETTE. (12*) LA GALETTE. 129 LA GALETTE. Mamma, what a pretty picture? Why are all those people rushing up Itowards that window 1 Some of them look as if they were laughing, and others seem to be almost out of patience at the crowd, by the looks of their faces ! But, mamma, what is this funny name at the bottom of the picture ? I cannot spell it." " That is La Galette : it is a French word." " I don't know what La Galette means, mamma ; will you tell me 1" " La Galette is the name of a certain kind of cake, of which the people of Paris, in France, are fond. It is made so as to be very light and very good, and those who sell it now, get a great deal of money by it. I will tell you a story about a poor pastry-cook who, a great many years ago, had a very small shop in Paris; hardly large enough to hold three people So nobody would go inside, but bought from the window. Well, he sold nothing but this curious cake, called La Galette, but he sold it from morning until night, and sometimes almost until midnight. 9 130 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. Whenever he baked a new cake, or G alette, a crowd of people always rushed to the window, to buy a sow's-worth — that is the same as a cent's- worth — and some would buy two or three sou's worth. As soon as he had sold one of these cakes, for they were very large, he always had another baked, ready to sell ; so he did nothing all day long but cut his cakes and take the money for the pieces he sold. He cut away so busily that the people who bought of him gave him a nickname. They called him Mr. Cut. He very soon got rich, for he was the only one in Paris who knew how to make this curious cake, and he then quit selling and working, and bought a fine house. Here he enjoyed himself very much, for he had everything he wanted to make him happy. He learned a friend of his how to make the cake. This man had a beautiful shop, on a fine, pretty street, where the rich and gay people of Paris walk a great deal, and he sold to them. They buy three or four hundred Gaieties of him every day, and the price of each one is about thirty cents. Now can you tell me how much money he gets every day, if he sells four hundred ? Get your slate and tell me how much thirty times four hundred is. Never mind, I will tell you ; it is twelve thousand cents, which is one hundred and twenty dollars. He gets this much for the cakes, and they cost him just one half of this ; so you see that he makes sixty dollars every day. He is getting rich fast. ^;V: THE ARBOR. A great many years ago, England was full of those wicked peo- ple, called robbers. They lived in the woods and in caves, and used to meet lone- ly travellers upon their (131) 132 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. everything they had, that was of any value. They were very cruel, wicked men, and sometimes killed people who would not willingly give up their money. Ten or twelve of them lived together, and they chose one from among them, whom they were to obey. They called him their captain. One of these captains lived, with his companions, in a large forest near Bentley, a little town in Eng- land. They robbed a great many men, and their captain was a very cruel, but a very brave man. His name was Robert Dick. When a very small boy, he had a good and kind mother, who taught him to read and pray. In the summer time, she used to sit in a beautiful arbor in the garden, and read to him pretty stories, and talk with him. But when he was old enough to know how to spell pretty well, his dear mother died, and he was taken away from his home, because there was no one there to take care of him and he went to live among strangers. After he grew up to be a man, he went to the city of London. He was delighted with its singular palaces and curiosities, and lived there very happily for some time. But being very rich, he had a great many friends who pretended to love him, and he thus got into bad company. He learned all kinds of wickedness, and at length, he wasted all his money, and did not know how he could get his living. He became acquainted with some men who told him that if he would live with them in the woods, and rob travellers, they would give him as much money as he wanted, and everything else he desired. He went THE ARBOR. 133 with them, and after awhile he became the boldest robber among them, and they made him the captain of the band. He one day rushed upon an old man in the road, and with an oath, told him to give up his purse. The old man, looking very pale and fright- ened, turned his face towards him. The robber cried out, as soon as he saw his face, " It is my uncle !" The uncle looked at him in surprise, and then asked him, " Are you my nephew, Robert Dick V 9 " I am," replied the robber. Then the uncle talked to him about his wicked- ness. He told him how all his relations had thought him dead, and that they did not know that he had become a robber. He then besought him to abandon that wicked life, and become a good man. He also described to him how beautiful his cousin Ellen, his old playmate had grown, and told him how happy they would all be, if he would leave his wicked compan- ions and return to his friends. He asked him, too, if he had ever killed any of the men he had robbed. The young man said that he had not, and yielding to the wishes of his uncle, whom he loved, and being sorry for what he had done, he promised to leave his former life and return again to his friends. But first he went to London, and gave himself up to the judge, told him that he had been the robber called Dick Camp, for that was the name he took while he was a robber, and was pardoned for all his crimes, because he was sorry for them. 134 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. He then returned to his friends in a distant part of England, and lived happily with them ; for no one but his uncle knew that he had been a robber. He spent many happy hours with his cousin Ellen, reading to her as they sat in the arbor, where, when a little boy, he had been used to sit with his mother. In this little arbor they used to read the Bible to- gether, and here prayed God to forgive him for all the sins of his former wicked life. One day when he had been with Ellen in the arbor, reading to her, he remained after she had left. Whilst sitting there, he thought of his youth, and how that if he had then obeyed the instructions of his dear mother, he w r ould never have been so wicked and cruel as to rob and steal. At length he fell asleep, and he dreamed that his mother was hovering over him in the form of a beautiful angel, repeating to him, as she had often done when he was but a little boy, "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth." My dear little children, there are angels just like the one he dreamed of, who are all the time telling you this. Will you try to do as they tell you, that you may live with them in heaven when you die 1 THE KITCHEN. 135 THE KITCHEN. OW boys ! here 's a kitchen, with Betty, the cook, looking as neat as a new pin. She has a place for everything, and everything in its place, which is more than can be said of\all cooks. " But, then, she is so cross. If I go in to get a drink of water, and don't put the tumbler back upon the dresser, she scolds terribly. Or, if I push a chair out of its place, or throw down the shovel and tongs, 136 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. or do anything at all but stand like a stake in the middle of the floor, she flies into a passion, and clears me out in quick time. " I like Betty well enough, if she were not so cross, She makes cakes, elegant ; and pies, and puddings, and all them things, first rate. But she is so cross." Ah, well, Master Henry, all roses have their thorns ; but it is well to keep your fingers from the stem, or at least to take hold of it lightly. Betty's kitchen is her empire, and you must not invade it. Don't think, because you are in your father's house, that you have a right to turn up Jack in the kitchen. Betty will never allow it, and your father and mother will both stand by her and see that you behave yourself. Go up into your play room, and throw things about as much as you please, but keep out of the kitchen, and you will keep out of trouble. So there, Master Harry, is a word of good advice for you. DISOBEDIENCE. 137 DISOBEDIENCE. HERE is your cousin, Charles'!" said Mrs. Mortimer to her son. I wish you would call him, and you shall both walk down to the village with me, to see old Martha." " Oh, mamma, how delightful !" exclaimed Charles: " there is Edwin water- ing the roses. I will run out to him, and we shall be quite ready in five minutes." Mrs. Mortimer put on her bonnet; and giving a basket to each of the boys to carry for her, they set out. The afternoon was fine and warm ; the hedges full of honeysuckles and wild roses; and the children, in great glee, ran round the fields, or amused themselves in plucking wild flowers. At the gate of Martha's cottage, they found the old woman, leaning upon her stick, talking to her grandson, who bad come from a neighbouring village to pay her a visit, and bring her a present of money. His donkey, tied to a hedge, lazily cropped the grass, or shook his long ears to drive away the flies which buzzed incessantly around his head. The two boys approached the quiet animal, and stroked his head 9 138 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. and nose, and plucked for him thistles, which grew in abundance near the roadside. Mrs. Mortimer at first did not perceive that they had left her side ; but on looking round, she imme- diately called to them to come into the garden, and shut the gate, and not go near the donkey, as how- ever quiet he might appear to be, it was very fool- ish to play with strange animals. They obeyed immediately ; and Mrs. Mortimer accompanied the old woman into her cottage, and sat down to rest herself. The children had not been long left to themselves, when Edwin exclaimed, " How stupid it is here, Charles ; let us go into the lane." " No, no," replied his cousin, " mamma bid us stay here." " What difference can it make to her," said Ed- win, " whether we walk up and down this narrow path, or play in the lane V' " But you know," replied Charles, " mamma al- ways tells us to be good and obedient, and mind what we are told." " Yes," exclaimed his naughty cousin : " if she knew we had not obeyed her ; but I know she is going to have a long talk with old Martha; and look, her grandson is also gone into the cottage. We are safe now. Come along, Charles — nobody can see us." " I will not go with you, Edwin," said his cousin ; " and you know you ought not to leave the garden. Do you forget that though mamma, perhaps, does DISOBEDIENCE. 139 not see us, God will 1 and he will punish us for our disobedience. Pray stay here ; indeed, you will re- pent being so wicked." " Nonsense !" replied Edwin ; and he began singing: " Come when j^ou are called, Do as you are bid ; Shut the door after you, And you will never be chid." " That 's you, Charles — now I like fun !" and so saying, the silly, thoughtless boy threw open the gate, and ran into the lane. Charles, I must own, gazed wistfully after him. The honeysuckles looked so tempting; their long branches, laden with flowers, seemed to bend to- wards him : then the wet ditch that bordered the lane was full of such beautiful large pilewort, so bright and shining — they would make such a lovely gar- land ! his foot was on the edge of the garden-walk. Another moment and his good resolutions would have all vanished : when, suddenly, he remembered that part of his morning's portion of the catechism was the Fifth Commandment, which taught him to honour his father and mother. " And shall I honour mamma if I dispbey her?" he said to himself; " Oh no ; I will remain here, and wait till she gives me leave to quit the garden ;" and he turned away and went to the other end of the walk. My little readers must not imagine that Charles kept to this good resolution without a pang ; although 140 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. he felt and knew that he was doing right, still, when he saw Edwin running up and down, he felt a very- great wish to join him ; but he had listened to, and profited by his mother's good advice and example, and he called to his cousin, entreating him to return. " Oh, no," replied Edwin; "you may play there, since you like it ; but I have run till I am out of breath, and now intend to ride till I am rested. Come here, Teddy !" he cried to the donkey, whose bridle he unloosed, and by the help of a large stone, soon contrived to scramble on to the animal's back ; and though his short legs could not nearly reach the stirrups, he held on by the mane with one hand, and made the donkey walk away. In vain Charles called him back ; away he went, kicking his quiet steed whenever a fine thistle tempted him to stop and seize upon it ; and singing loudly, to drown the entreaties of his cousin. One evil step is soon followed by another. Edwin had commenced by disobedience, — he now added cruelty to his other faults. The donkey, accustomed to a slow pace, walked leisurely along ; but its ambitious rider became anxious to show his cousin how well he could manage his steed : he therefore pulled a thick stick from the hedge, and finding the animal paid no attention to his kicks and scoldings, he began to beat him on the neck and head. This cruel treatment of an innocent, unoffending animal, was soon punished, and in a manner he little expected, for the donkey suddenly began to canter, then gallop ; and Edwin, in a very DISOBEDIENCE. 141 few minutes, repented his disobedience. In vain he screamed for aid and assistance ; in vain he pulled the bridle ; Teddy only went faster and faster — quite heedless of his cries, till he found himself obliged to let go the rein, and cling on by the mane and saddle. In this manner, like the renowned Johnny Gilpin of old, he scampered through the vHlage ; and as he galloped, the noise of the clattering hoofs on the pavement, brought the startled inhabitants to their doors and windows, but no one could give him any help ; when suddenly the donkey, turning short round, rushed down a narrow lane ; and finally, by stopping short on the brink of a pond where he was accustomed to drink, his luckless rider was thrown from his back into the pool. His unexpected plunge in the water caused new fright and consternation ; for just at that time a large flock of geese and ducks were swimming about ; and much alarmed at Ed- win's violent immersion, they quacked, cackled, and flapped their wings so loudly, that the donkey turned and galloped away ; and the old women rushed to the pond, armed with broomsticks, pokers, and any weapon they could find, imagining that nothing less than a half-a-dozen foxes attacking their fowls, could have caused such a din. Meanwhile, the author of all this confusion lay in the middle of the pond, stuck quite fast in the mud — every now and then receiving a flap from the wing of a goose, or a bite from the bill, — and nearly dead with fright, cold, and noise ; fortunately, the water being shallow, he was in no 142 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. danger of being drowned, or his adventure might have ended more seriously. In a little while he was pulled out of the pond, all wet and benumbed with cold. It was a lesson he did not soon forget. MAGIC PICTURE. ET two level pieces of glass, (plate- glass is the best) exactly the same size, lie one on the other, leaving a space between them by pasting a piece of card at each corner. Join these glasses together at the edges composition of white of egg, mixed lime slaked by exposure to the air. Cover all the edges with parchment, or blad- der, except one end, which is to be left open to admit the following composition. Dissolve at a slow fire, six ounces of hog's lard with half an ounce of white wax, to which may be added one ounce of clear linseed oil. This must be poured, while liquid, between the glasses at the end that is open, which must then be closed up like the other sides ; after this, fasten with gum a picture or print, painted on very thin paper, with its face to one of the glasses. While the mixture be- tween the glasses is cold, the picture will be quite concealed, but will become transparent when held to the fire. The glasses may be fixed in a frame. PRIDE. 143 PRIDE. A FABLE. THISTLE once, puffed up with pride, Grew near an humble pansy's side, Within a garden fair ; How came he there, I cannot tell : He left a quiet, peaceful dell, To bloom 'mid blossoms rare. And now he held his head so high, With fairer buds he seemed to vie, And treat them with disdain ; He shook his leaves and raised his head, " I am the fairest here," he said ; " I 've reason to be vain. " My purple buds and flowers are bright, My leaves, though prickly, charm the sight, My stem is straight and tall ; I hate those little pallid flowers, That venture near, within these bowers, — I 'm fairer than them all. " How could I live afar so long, The wild and vulvar buds among? 144 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. Really, I blush to think, How amid daisies, herbs, and grass, My parents lived for years, alas ! Near to yon streamlet's brink." " Oh, thistle," then, the pansy said, " Go hide your vain and foolish head, Your day will soon be o'er ; Return you to your mother's side, And there forget your silly pride, And venture here no more. " Believe me, modesty will gain Love, that your charms will ne'er obtain, However bright and fair; And why despise the humble flowers, That bloom beneath the summer showers, And nature's kindness share V 9 The thistle, angry, vain, and proud, Stooped to address the neighboring crowd Of pansies growing round. When lo ! the gardener came and said, " How dare you bloom within this bed V And struck him to the ground. And as the foolish flowret died, He felt how silly was the pride, That lured him from the dell, PRIDE. 145 Where peaceful still he might have been, 'Mid herbs and buds of verdure green, There amid friends to dwell. Oh, ye who read my simple tale, Attend the expiring thistle's wail : Think how he bent his dying head, And think of what the pansy said : No beauty of the form or face, Is loved like worth and modest grace. 10 146 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE LION AND THE ASS. N the days of old Esop, it once came to pass That a lion saw fit to make friends with an ass; " For," said he, " I well know, by my- self, he can bray In such style as to strike all the beasts with dismay." Now you take the rear, I'll proceed to the van," Said the lion, " then make the worst noise that you can ; They '11 be seized with a panic, I have not a doubt, Which will end in their total dispersion and rout." So the ass brayed a tune which he thought would succeed, When the cattle made off with incredible speed ; Then the lion fell on them and made them his prey ; " Only think," said the donkey, " how well I can bray." " Well," said he to the lion, " pray how did it do?" " Indeed," said that beast, " Sir, you frightened me too ; And, had I not known it before, I protest, I, myself, should have run with all speed, like the rest." THE LAMPLIGHTER. (148) THE LAMPLIGHTER. 149 THE LAMPLIGHTER. HAT a funny, dirty looking old man ! That is a picture of a lamp- lighter, of the city of Paris, who lived a great while ago, when Louis the Sixteenth was the King of France. All lamplighters, then, were like the one in the picture. See how greasy he looks ! Well, that is because they then burned oil in the street lamps. They did not know how to make gas then, and were obliged to use oil, or candles. These gave a very poor light, and at night, the streets were almost dark, so that it was dangerous to go out alone for fear of being robbed. The lamplighters in those days used to hang the lamp upon a rope, which they either stretched from house to house across the street, or passed through a pulley or loop at the top of a high post. They thus kept the light suspended several feet from the ground, by means of a heavy weight which they fastened to the other end of the rope. This was a very poor way, and not half so good 150 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. as the present one. Now, in our great cities they have a hollow iron post, about eight feet high, which is attached to a pipe running under ground from the place the gas is made, through which the fluid is conducted. At the top of this post is a small tube through an opening in which the gas burns. This is surrounded by a glass case, to prevent the wind from blowing out the flame, and the light thus made is very brilliant, making the side-walks and streets very light, even on the darkest night. So you see they have made great improvements in lamps as well as everything else. First they burned candles, then oil, and now they burn gas. This re- minds one of what a Frenchman once said, " Every- thing brilliant, is short-lived in this world ! The candle first gave place to oil, and oil has at last given place to gas !" THE ENGLISH CABRIOLE! THE ENGLISH CABRIOLET. 153 THE ENGLISH CABKIOLET. .OU can see what a pretty carriage 'the Cabriolet is, by looking at the picture. The one you see there is a new invention, and different from the one first made by the French. The French Cabriolet, had but two wheels, and only one seat. The driver always 'occupied a part of this seat, and as he was sometimes not very clean, it was rather unpleasant for a gentleman or lady to sit close by him, as they were obliged to do. Yet people, when they were in a hurry to get to any place, used to hire a Cabriolet, for it was so light that they could get along faster in it than any other kind of a carriage. The English Cabriolet is an improvement upon the old French one. It has four wheels, which makes it less apt to upset, and has also two seats, so that persons can talk in the back seat without being overheard by the driver, who sits in front, upon a high seat or box, as it is called. This kind of conveyance is much used in London, 10 154 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. and in Paris now, because of its convenience ; for it has a top or covering, which can be raised, by- means of the hinges upon which it turns, in case of a rain or storm. This top can be let down in a fair day, or whenever the person riding chooses ; so he can or ought to be satisfied with his carriage. You will take a ride in one of these curious Cab- riolets, some day, if you ever go to any great city, won't you ? You can then see how beautifully and conveniently they are made. See how proud the driver looks as he cracks his long whip ! A#» (156) TRAVELLING AMONG THE ALPS. 157 TRAVELLING AMONG THE ALPS. OOK at those rough overhanging rocks ! See how dismal that moun- tain road appears ! Those are the ^Alps of Italy. They are celebrated for being very high and rugged. Their summits are covered with snow, while the valleys at their feet are beau- tiful and green. Flowers grow in the little crevices where the sun's rays make the thin soil warm and fertile, while within a few feet, ice and snow- banks overhang the rugged rocks. It is very fatiguing to travel among these high mountains ; for there are no carriage roads, and they are obliged to ride upon mules. The Alps were once thought to be impassable ; but Hannibal, a great general, who lived hundreds of years ago, crossed them with his whole army. Na- poleon Bonaparte also crossed them, but a few years since, with thousands of soldiers. They dragged their cannons up the steep ascents in sledges, to which were attached ropes that they passed around their bodies. 158 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. THE BEE. UM, hum, busy bee, Where your home is, I must see ; I will follow where you go, Till I find it out, I know. I have heard how nice and well, You plan out each honey cell ; But I want to see myself, If you'll let me, little elf. Now you stop, some tale to tell, To the pretty blue berry bell ; She '11 return her thanks to you, With a sup of honey dew. I won't listen ; let me be Near enough your wings to see : So pray do not use your sting, * Though you are a jealous thing. What ! so quickly off again ; I should think you called in vain ; It don't take you long to show Your handsome coat, and graceful bow. Oh ! I 've lost you now, I fear, Or perhaps your hive is near ; THE BEE. 159 And I think that it may be, In the hollow of that tree. I am half afraid to see ; — Lest you think some enemy, To steal away your store has come, And drive you from your anxious home. No, I love you far too well ; I have heard my mother tell, Of a little German girl, With large dark eye, and glossy curl : Who loved the birds and bees so much, That she did not fear to touch, With her little hand the cell, Where they hived the honey well. Sometimes on her head she'd bind All the blossoms she could find ; Then the bees would round her swarm ; They had learned to fear no harm. Oft she lay beneath some tree, Just as still as she could be ; And warbled out some pretty notes, Such as come from birdies' throats, Till they grew to love her so, They would come and listen too ; Once a little mousie came, Then crept slyly back again. 160 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. & Never did she harm a thing, So she seldom got a sting ; And she loved all nature so, That she heard sweet music flow, From the little running brook ; And in every shady nook, Some sweet bird or flower was near, To whisper sweet words in her ear. Always, this dear, silent grove, Makes me think of those I love ; Till I quite forget the bees ; And lie down beneath the trees, And think those sweet things o'er and o'er, And wish mamma would tell me more : So little bee, you 've flown away, I'll find your hive another day. For the sun is sinking low, Homeward I will quickly go. Grove, and bees, and birdies too, Dear good night, to all of you. 1