The Project Gutenberg EBook of Leaves for a Christmas Bough, by Unknown This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Leaves for a Christmas Bough Love, Truth, and Hope Author: Unknown Release Date: January 18, 2013 [EBook #41865] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEAVES FOR A CHRISTMAS BOUGH *** Produced by Suzanne Shell, Brian Wilcox and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) CHRISTMAS EVE. LEAVES, FOR A CHRISTMAS BOUGH. Child Reading Love, Truth, and Hope. BOSTON: WM. CROSBY & H. P. NICHOLS, 111 WASHINGTON STREET. NEW YORK: CHARLES B. NORTON, 71 CHAMBERS STREET., 1849. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by WILLIAM CROSBY & H. P. NICHOLS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. COOLIDGE AND WILEY, PRINTERS, 12 WATER ST., BOSTON. PREFACE. Recollections of the many pleasant hours passed with a certain juvenile circle, not fifty miles from Boston, and associations connected with this joyous season, have induced the feeble effort of collecting a few stray leaves for its amusement. Hoping that their many defects, arising from a hasty preparation amid various cares and occupations, may be kindly pardoned, they are presented as a trifling Gift for the Holidays. To that group, bound together by a mutual sympathy in each other's joys and fleeting sorrows, it may not be uninteresting to recall the days of "Auld Lang Syne." The scene will be a chequered one, for amid the frolic and sunshine, some tears will have been shed; while with hours of hard and thoughtful study, the bitterness of failure will sometimes appear. But the bright and beautiful so far prevail over the rest, that such only need be recalled; and while enjoying those sweet remembrances, let us be merry and glad together. With truth and goodness as our constant aim, let us strive to make daily progress in the school of life, and though we may be separated on Earth, we may hope for a blissful reunion in Heaven. CONTENTS. Preface, 5 A Letter from Santa Claus, 9 Rigolette, 14 A Story for Minna, 19 A Story for Nellie and Molly, 21 The School-Teacher's Song, 24 Letter from the West, 26 A Sketch for the Members of the "Sunbeam Society," 31 Scraps about Dogs, 34 A Letter from a little Girl to a Sick Schoolmate, 39 Who is my Neighbour? 46 A Few Rhymes for Dan, 51 A Story for Little Emma, 53 A Story told under the Great Elm Tree, 55 A Letter, 60 A Conversation on Fairs, 65 A True Sketch for the Two Sisters, 68 Scraps from a Journal, picked up in a gale of Wind, 71 An Incident, 76 A Story for Willie, 78 A Letter, 81 A Parody on the Mower's Song, 87 A Few Rhymes for "Charlie Boy," 89 A Story for Lizzie, 91 The German Musicians, 94 Letter from a Little Girl to an Absent Schoolmate, 102 An Account of a Sea-Shore Visit, 107 A Tribute to the Memory of a Sunday-School Scholar, 113 A Simple Story for Georgy, 118 A Story for Sweet Little Fanny, 121 Sketches from a Fireside Journal, 124 Unda, or the Fountain Fairy, 128 Leaves for a Christmas Bough. A LETTER FROM SANTA CLAUS, FOR CHRISTMAS, 1849. MY DEAR CHILDREN: As I have always been in the habit of meeting with you on this Anniversary, and as I cannot expect to see you all together this year, for the sake of old times I am going to write you a letter. Perhaps you are not aware that I have been a silent spectator of your daily occupations, but so it is. I generally take a nap from one year to another, so after our glorious celebration at the "Bee-Hive," I packed myself away in the stove-pipe for that purpose; but the hum of merry voices kept me awake, and thus I lay and listened to what was going on. The fairies, in whom you perhaps all believe, have also been quite numerous in your vicinity, and from my relationship to them, I have often heard of your excursions over hill and dale, and the many gay times you have enjoyed together. I travel over many regions at this season of the year, and in order to accomplish all I wish, in my endeavors to please the young folks, I shall begin my preparations a little earlier than usual, so you need not wonder if I visit some of you a little before Christmas and New Year, with one of my gifts. This will consist of a few of the simplest little sketches, letters, and reminiscenses of the various occurrences in which you have participated, and I hope the contents of this "Christmas Bough" will give you as much satisfaction as those of by-gone seasons, when the festive pine-tree erected to my honor has been loaded with gay and glittering gifts. I trust you will all enjoy the holiday, and with glad and grateful hearts fully appreciate the many privileges you enjoy, as the children of kind parents, and the objects of interest to affectionate friends. Of course you will be most forcibly reminded of the Giver of all these blessings, and you will love to listen about the "gentle child Jesus," in honor of whose birth the day is celebrated. By looking back upon the past year, you can see what steps you have taken in self-improvement, what you have learned, what left unlearned; and the retrospect will help you to form new plans for the future, which now rises bright and beautifully before you. One little girl will have the satisfaction of having almost conquered a peevish temper, which made her very disagreeable; another will have acquired habits of neatness and order, so necessary to comfort and enjoyment. This scholar will have an increase of memory, and thus avoid the repetition of that troublesome phrase, "Oh, I forgot;" and that one will become more thoughtful, and will not consider the excuse, "I didn't think," sufficient to cover her frequent blunders. A nice, hearty little fellow that I know will have learned to read fluently, and to love his books for the sake of all the good and pleasant things he can find in them; while another rogue will be kind and gentle to his sisters, and give up the naughty habit of teasing his companions. The proud child will learn her true value, and not think herself better than her mates, on account of her pretty face, fine clothes, or handsome residence; while best of all these changes, the cowardly and deceitful will be ever brave and truthful, finding that honesty is the greatest safeguard, and truthfulness a shield from many temptations. All foolish quarrels will be forgotten, and the spirit of love and good will pervade all their actions, as the children resolve to aid their kind parents in family cares, the brother and sister mutually assisting each other, and with cheerful, bright faces make a perpetual sunshine at home. In this delightful progress, the claims of those who have always served you as devoted domestics, will not be forgotten; and by your thoughtfulness, you can thus atone for many an unkind word or heedless exaction on your part. As children of benevolent parents, you will help to bestow gifts upon the poor and needy, and nothing, I know from watching you all, will be more pleasant than this part of the Christmas rejoicings. I shall want to hear from you in answer to this lengthy epistle, for I know you are all used to writing; and be assured I shall ever feel a sincere and hearty interest in your welfare, and whatever may be your position in life, memory will carry me back to the happy days spent in the pretty village of D. And now, as I draw on my seven- leagued boots for other scenes, I will wish you all a "Merry Christmas," and a "Happy New Year." "SANTA CLAUS." RIGOLETTE. A little girl, thinking it was very difficult to write compositions, once went to her teacher, and said, "Will you please tell me how to begin? for I do not know what to say first." "How would you begin, if you were to relate the subject to me?" "Oh! it would be very easy to talk it all, but to write it properly is very hard." "Well, my dear, just suppose yourself talking to me, and for once forget the difficulties of a composition, and I have no doubt you will succeed." Pointing to an engraving of Rigolette, she continued, "Go and write a description of that picture, and if you will patiently persevere till it is carefully finished, I will tell you a story about your favorite. HERE IS THE COMPOSITION. "There is a young girl sitting by a window, looking at her Canary birds. She seems to be very busy with her work, but she stops sewing for a moment, to listen to the singing of the birds. Her face is very beautiful; her hair is dark and neatly parted on her forehead. Her eyes are brown, perhaps black; her nose straight, her cheeks rosy, and her mouth sweet and smiling. She has a handkerchief tied round her head, and she wears a dark, nice-fitting dress. The furniture in the room is a large old-fashioned table, a high-back chair, and on the window-seat is a pot of pretty flowers. The green blind is drawn up, and in the distance, the top of a church is seen, so I suppose the room is very high. The birds' cage is covered with chick-weed and flowers, and I guess they are very happy and contented. Her hands are white and handsome, but her thimble is blue, and different from any I ever saw, and I should think she was hemming a handkerchief." As a reward for her ready acquiescence, the following little sketch was written: "Rigolette was a young French girl, in Paris, and earned her livelihood by following the trade of a seamstress. She had been left an orphan at a very early age, but from her joyous, happy temperament, she had acquired her name, which signifies 'The Warbler.' For the people who adopted her, she performed the duties of a faithful daughter, and was ever cheerful, active, and industrious. She was placed in the midst of poor and even wicked people, but her native love of the good and beautiful saved her from contamination. "As a young girl of twenty, when deprived of her early protectors, she lived by herself, with her two Canaries, 'Ramonette and Papa Crétu,' for her companions; and solaced by their songs, with the native buoyancy of youth and health, she passed a busy, contented life. Though possessing very limited means, she was most charitable, supporting a poor family for a whole winter, and often cheering the sick and lonely. She was proverbial, in all the neighborhood, for her neatness, taste, industry, good humor, and active benevolence. She thus became the friend, the assistant, the confident, and adviser, whenever it was in her power to aid others, and like a sunbeam she gladdened many a dark and gloomy apartment. "Still, she was used to suffering, and sorrow visited her young heart when her cousin was unjustly thrown into prison. Nobly did she devote herself to him, when deserted by all others, and many were the efforts she made to gain his release. "Meanwhile she made the acquaintance of a German prince, who, in order to become acquainted with his subjects, travelled through his dominions in disguise. Through his efforts the cousin was released, and made the proprietor of a fine farm. By daily intercourse the good prince became intimately acquainted with the excellent French girl, and fully appreciated her many estimable qualities. By her means the prince's daughter, who had long been lost, was joyfully restored to his affection, and to her proper rank in society. "Soon after Rigolette was married, and the prince made her a handsome present on her wedding day. A beautiful rose-wood box, containing many tasteful articles of apparel, and various ornaments to adorn her country home, was sent to her with this inscription: "To Industry, Prudence, and Goodness." Her gratitude for all these favors was unbounded, and many kind, affectionate letters passed between them, keeping up a continued interest through life. The example of one such good and cheerful being is a blessing to all around, imparting the purest pleasure, and teaching a valuable lesson to those who come within its genial influence." A STORY FOR MINNA. There was once a little mouse, that was kept in a nice little trap, and carefully tended by many good children. It was a great pet, and grew fat and plump every day. It was so tame that it would sit up just like a squirrel, and eat its little dinner without the least fear of those around. Sometimes it would wash its face like a kitten, and then, after a race round the room, creep back to its wire cage and take a long nap. It had a soft, warm bed of cotton and wool, which it would pull to pieces before it went to sleep, to the great amusement of all the boys and girls, who daily watched its capers. No mouse ever had a pleasanter time, or greater dainties at its command. It had plenty of cheese and sugar, and though it had no companions, it seemed to play as much as it liked, and to be very happy. On the table near it stood a globe full of gold fishes sailing in the water, and over its head were two yellow Canary birds. What they thought of each other, I can't say; but it was a strange sight to see the beast, birds, and fishes thus brought together. No cat ever disturbed little mousey's retreat, but alas, one cold winter night, it froze to death! From its fate, if you ever are allowed to keep pet animals, remember to take good care of them, for they are helpless creatures, and dependent upon you for constant watchfulness. A LITTLE STORY FOR NELLIE AND MOLLY. Hanging high above the school-room door, there was a little brown leaf, which flew round and round in airy circles, and at last, attracting the notice of certain inquisitive "little folks," was called "the little bird." Upon being swept down from its winter's perch, the following little scrap was found rolled up in its folds. "To day has been dull and rainy, but I was in an atmosphere full of sunshine, for nice little boys and sweet little girls were near me on one side of the room, and on the other, busy young misses and maidens. The "wee little ones" said a nice lesson from Peabody's Primer, which is a very pretty book, and I could see they were improving very much. "Then the second class, composed of youngsters about six or seven years old, recited from the Spelling Book, the Geography, the Mental Arithmetic, and then read from a book all about animals, birds, and fishes. They all answered briskly, stood up very straight, turned out their toes, and looked so smiling you would have thought they were playing a very pleasant game. "Once in a while they could not answer the questions correctly, and then down went a little boy or girl a place lower in the class; but in spite of that they all kept good natured, and were thus saved from getting into more trouble. "One darling little girl, who had sometimes been tempted to pout and spoil her face by crying, made a great effort to keep calm when she lost the head of the row, and succeeded. 'I didn't cry, did I?' said she, 'and I am determined I never will again.' "Then the teacher kissed her beaming face, and the sweet child felt as happy as her teacher, at the consciousness of her great victory, and all her little companions were very glad with her, for they loved each other dearly." THE SCHOOL TEACHER'S SONG. A PARODY ON THE VINE DRESSER'S SONG. Come away girls, to labor, Brightly glows the young day; Come away, every young neighbor, To the school-room away. The clear echo ringing, Is heard on the lawn, While the school-girl is singing Her joys in the morn. In the bright glancing school-room, From tree and from stream, O'er each rose-tinted cheek-bloom, How plays the Sun's beam. Come away, &c. Come, each happy young maiden, Your lesson prepare, With heads freely laden With Learning's sweet fare. Come away, &c Then the blithe ones come bounding, Aroused by the call, And their voices resounding Good lessons from all. Come away, &c. Hark! the scholars now wending, The street-side along, Are cheerily blending Their shouts and their song. Come away, &c. LETTER FROM THE WEST. RIVER-SIDE, ST. CHARLES. My dear Coz: Here I am settled down at the far West, on a pretty little farm, and enjoying every earthly blessing. I am surrounded by a family of merry children, who frolic round from morn till night, enjoying every moment of the bright sunshine, and never tired of admiring the beauties all around them. Perhaps a description of my pets may amuse you, so with a mother's natural pride, I will draw a picture of their various traits. My oldest son is a tall, black-eyed boy, and a most gentlemanly little fellow of his age, assisting his father on the farm, and often lending his aid to me in the school-room, when, amid the cares of teaching, I need a monitor. Young as he is, the native energy of his mind makes the smaller ones bend to his will, and they are very fond of him, in spite of his exactions. Charlie, the second, is very precocious, and astonishes us all, by the readiness with which he acquires every thing, and I look forward to the time when he will be as great a student as his father. Annie is a fair-haired, gentle lassie, with deep, earnest blue eyes, a most delicate complexion, which, from her great sensitiveness, is the perfect index of her feelings. She is very conscientious, and has never once deceived me. She is fond of her needle, and will be a most efficient help in the cares of the household, as she is ever most happy when quietly seated at my side. Ada, her sister, is a perfect contrast, with large, black eyes, and a face glowing with health and happiness. She is not at all pretty, but her constant good humor and lively sympathy impart an animated and pleasant expression, as agreeable to us as beauty. With her brothers she is a great favorite, ready for any plan of theirs, and though she is often in mischief, her merry laugh procures a speedy pardon. As I look out of the window, I see the group coming in from the woods, loaded with flowers and mosses, and Ada mounted on the white poney, looking like a gipsey queen surrounded by her subjects. The two youngest, Arthur and Mabel, are the darlings of all, and are the objects of general pride and attention, particularly the former, who is beginning to show quite a taste for mechanics. In looking at my children, I am often reminded of our own childish days, when together we roamed in the pleasant village of D., free as birds and careless of aught beside the present. Do you remember those good old times, when, with our teacher, we took such pleasant walks, hunting for wild flowers to press in our herbaliums, and the frolics we had going after berries or nuts? Then our summer picnics, at Powder Rock, Pine Grove, Vine Rock, Cow Island, Harrison Grove, Table Mount, Job's Island, the Farm, and other favorite spots too numerous to mention. In winter, too, can we ever forget the "Quilting Bee," followed in the evening by the "Candy Scrape"; our famous French class nights, when we performed "Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme;" and last but not least the representation of the "Knapsack?" With these scenes of pleasure, comes the memory of more serious hours, passed in improving study, and instructive courses of reading. The Examinations, at which we quaked with fear, in the presence of the Committee and the assembled parents. But they generally ended with unalloyed pleasure, as we received our premiums for any progress in our lessons, or any steady effort to acquire good habits. Our attempts at Composition, the subject of so many sighs and groans, and the great stumbling block in our path of learning. I have yet several relics of our mimic Post Office, which helped us more than any thing else in conquering the difficulties of writing. When my children have been very good, I entertain them with a perusal of my various notes and letters, and nothing pleases them better than selections from my old Journal. I keep up with them the same routine we had at school, making a pleasant walk, or a little gathering of the neighbor's children, the result of a fortnight's earnest attention to books and work, and seldom do I have to banish any of the happy circle. But if laziness, selfishness, or wilful naughtiness of any kind is manifested, the offender is debarred from the anticipated enjoyment. And now, dear Coz, I shall expect an answer to my lengthy epistle, with a full account of Henry, Emma, Molley, and Dan, of whom my little ones often draw imaginary pictures, believing them to be possessed of every perfection. Ever Yours, with kisses from all here, I remain, MARY CRIBBENS. A SKETCH FOR THE MEMBERS OF THE "SUNRISE SOCIETY," AND THOSE WHO HAVE A QUICK EYE CAN BEST JUDGE IF THE OUTLINES RESEMBLE THE ORIGINAL. In a certain town situated on the banks of the winding Charles, and in the neighborhood of a village church, there is an humble school-house, shaded by magnificent elm trees, the pride of the place. In the interior stand two rows of green desks, flanked by sober- looking chairs, and occupied by scholars of all ages from five to fifteen. In the centre is a venerable stove, which for many years has been the presiding genius of the place, and has retained its stand in the midst of various revolutions. In winter it imparts its generous warmth to roast chestnuts and apples, and in summer it serves as a graceful pedestal for flowers, while its long funnel, raised over the heads of those below, seems like a protecting arm. On its walls hang various maps, drawings, and pictures, one in particular, the object of their admiration and regard; each having some pleasant association, and all combining to add a pleasant aspect to the room. At the upper end of the apartment, which is used as a dressing-room, library, and play-house, &c., &c., are two great tablets, with the following inscriptions: "There's not a leaf within the bower There's not a bird upon the tree, There's not a dew drop on the flower, But bears the impress, Lord of Thee! God, thou art good! Each perfumed flower, The smiling fields, the dark green wood, The insect fluttering for an hour; All things proclaim that God is good." Near the said stove is a table covered with books and work, scattered round in most elegant confusion, while in the centre stands a beautiful white vase, filled with the sweetest flowers. Near by are "the little ones," making their first attempts at writing and drawing upon the slate, or perhaps sewing upon their many-colored patchwork. In the larger circle may be seen the older sisters and companions industriously plying their needles and pencils, while listening to the reading of some interesting book. In this circle are various specimens of happy childhood; some being plump and rosy, others pale and thin, some tall and some short, some with black eyes and others with blue or grey, but the countenances of all lit up by the earnest expression of eager interest. With the sunshine playing round their young heads, clustering together, there cannot be a more fascinating picture, or one more worthy of an artist's hand; for what is a more beautiful sight than a group of bright-faced, busy-fingered children? SCRAPS ABOUT DOGS. In the depth of winter, all the dogs in a certain inland town were supposed to be seized with madness. Numbers fell victims to the mania for murdering them, and the noble hound, the fierce mastiff, the graceful spaniel, the sagacious Newfoundland, were, with the common cur, alike liable to death. Fierce-eyed men roamed through the streets, thirsting for blood, and waited to destroy their prey by open assault, or with the treacherous snare of poisoned meat. The snow lay cold and bright upon all the ground, glittering icicles gemmed all the trees, and no sounds were heard besides the ringing of the merry sleigh-bells, making music through the frosty streets. All is still at the Bee-Hive, when suddenly a boisterous knock is heard at the door, and upon opening it, the well known features of a dog-killer appear. "Whose dog is this?" he asks in a loud voice. "I really don't know," is the timid reply, "but I believe he belongs to one of the scholars." "Well, he has been sleeping all the morning on the snow, and he looks very queer, so I guess he's mad, and I must kill him." Immediately the mistress of the dog sprang to the door, and with beseeching tones, exclaimed, "Oh, don't kill him, for it is my dog! Poor Rover! He shall not be killed!" The man still brandishes his club, the symptoms of the dog are pronounced those of genuine Hydrophobia, but after a spirited consultation, the dog's life is spared, and he goes home with his happy mistress. Not long after, he was missing, and it is supposed that being in daily fear of his life, and understanding the fate that awaited him, he travelled off to parts unknown, thereby proving his superior sagacity. Long may his young defender retain the warm heart and compassionate feelings displayed on that occasion; for a love of the noble animals that serve us is one sign of a kindly, generous soul, and in a woman is most estimable. Talking of dogs, it may not be amiss to mention one or two other specimens of the canine race that have distinguished themselves in times of yore. Tiger will not be forgotten by those who enjoyed the famous coasting matches, when, after the swift ride down the steep hills of "Auld lang syne," he so readily offered his vigorous services, and after floundering through the snow, brought back the sled to its owner again. Bruno, too, the companion of many pleasant walks, the attendant on many a boat-ride, swimming half the distance, the ready assistant at any race, and the guardian of his young friends, will not be unremembered. But first of all in fame, and last in the hearts of those who knew him, will the memory of dear "Old Nep" be cherished. Of him a volume might be written in praise of his youthful grace and beauty, and his superior intelligence, as he increased in years. Sharpened by his intercourse with man he could understand the language addressed to him, and even when spoken of he shewed by signs that he comprehended the remarks made in his presence. He could carry messages, go on errands with a basket in his mouth, carry bundles, play ball, leap, jump, and slide with the greatest agility. Besides these and many other accomplishments, he could draw a little carriage, harnessed like a horse, and obey all the commands of his young master with untiring patience. For faithfulness as a watch dog, and for devotion to the interests of the family, by every member of which he was dearly loved, few dogs can compare with him. For a well spent life, and for acting well the part assigned him, he might be cited as an example even to the human race, some of whom might blush at the superior excellence of the dog. A LETTER FROM A LITTLE GIRL TO A SICK SCHOOLMATE. NEW YEAR'S DAY. My dear Annie: As I have a holiday to-day, and can not get up to see you, I am going to write you a letter. We are all very sorry that you are not well enough to be in school yet, but are hoping every day to see you again. I will write you something about our Christmas celebration, as it was the pleasantest we have ever had yet, I think. We were very busy for a good while before making things to put on the tree, and there was a great deal of whispering every day with our teacher, who helped us all, and had to keep a great many secrets. Then we practised our prettiest songs from the School- Singer, and recited our different pieces of poetry, and besides all that we reviewed a good many lessons. When the day itself came, we were almost crazy with delight, and with the many things we had to do. Some of us left invitations for the parents and all the old scholars to come, some helped make the curtains, which altered the school-room so you would not have known it. Some of us helped make evergreen trimming to dress the walls, while the boys went after two beautiful pine trees, to put at the end of the room, and some of us fixed the candles in tin stands which we called our silver chandeliers. The young ladies were busy trimming the church close by, so we could run in there for a minute, to look at the beautiful great Cross behind the pulpit, and the wreaths and festoons, for the people were going to celebrate Christmas eve. Then in the afternoon we brought all our presents to put on the trees, and they looked beautifully, and there were so many things we had to have a table besides. Then we made a platform of the benches, and fixed the chairs all round the room for the company; the boys put up a curtain for us in front of the trees, and after every thing was ready, we arranged ourselves as we were to sit in the evening. Soon after tea we all went to the school-room early, and I brought a rake and some hay, for I was to be one of the seasons. There was an address by one of the young gentlemen, and then we all sang a Christmas song, but I felt so frightened, I could'nt sing very loud. Then the curtains dropped, and we were arranged as the four seasons. When it was raised, the two Marys represented Spring; I was Summer, with a broad-brimmed hat on, and a rake in my hand, and little Emma sat by my side, holding flowers. I said the mower's song, and then we all sang another piece. Next came N., dressed as Autumn, with a beautiful wreath of dried grasses on her head, a sickle in her hand, and close by her side, dear little Lena knelt with a basket of grapes and apples. Then Ellen appeared as "Winter," dressed in a red tunic trimmed with white fur, a muff in her hands, and a fur cap on her head, and she looked very pretty. "Jack Frost" was at her feet kneeling on a sled, with skates on his shoulders; he said a long piece of poetry about "Christmas Eve," and every now and then he rattled some sleigh-bells. After the "Four Seasons," two of the smallest children stood up a minute as "Day and Night"; one of them, with rosy cheeks, blue eyes, and light hair, had a white veil thrown over her head, and the other, with coal black eyes, and dark hair, had on a black veil, and I think it was the prettiest thing we had. Dear Abby was the "New Year" of 1849, holding a large silver cross in her hand, and she said her piece beautifully. Then Agnes came out as the "Old Year," dressed as an old woman with a high-crowned cap; she said her piece very perfectly, and she made every body laugh, she did her part so well. Last of all, Santa Claus appeared, all dressed in furs, and holding a bag of presents, and then we all sang together our last song, a great deal better than the others. A gentleman then helped give out the presents, but there was such a crowd, it was hard work to get them. Just then one of the trees caught fire; and somebody rushing to put it out, tipped over one of the trees, making a great crash, but no harm was done. It took almost an hour to give the presents, and after that we all went home with our arms full of pretty things. The next day we came to the school-room to look over our gifts, and put the room to rights; then we had some cake and peanuts, instead of the night before; for you know that is always our usual treat, and then we all went to church together. I hear you had a great many presents, and we hope you liked those the scholars sent you. It has been very cold since Christmas, so we have not had any sleigh-rides, but we have been on the ice almost every afternoon, and we have fine times sliding and skating. The great girls go by moonlight, and have been up to Wigwam Pond, which is just like a silver floor. Do you remember those times when we used to slide on your pond near the old mill, and how we cried if we fell down or our fingers were cold? The little brook all frozen up and filled with crystals, we thought was like a Fairy's palace, it was so glittering and had so many colors. Every day, at noon, when the snow is soft, we make snow forts, and we have made a great snow man, which is our giant, and at night he gets real hard. Then we play "English and Americans," like our history lessons, but the Americans always beat, because the most girls take that side. We all send love to you, and many kisses, and hope you will soon get well, for we are getting on very fast with our lessons. A Happy New Year to you. Yours ever, "LIZZIE." Mountain Goat WHO IS MY NEIGHBOUR? "Mother," said a little girl to Mrs. Franklin, as they were seated one day at their sewing, "will you be so kind as to tell me the real meaning of the word neighbour? Our teacher in the Sunday School gave us the text, 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself,' for our subject of thought during the week, and she wants us to tell her who our neighbours are. Now I suppose all who live in the same street are really neighbours, though I am sure I know very few of them." "Your idea, my dear Emily, is correct as far as it goes; but we are not only required to feel an interest in the dwellers in the same street, but also in all those with whom we come in contact, whether rich or poor, high or low, young or old, provided we can be of service to them." "Well then, mother, if all my schoolmates are my neighbours, Sarah Howe, Julia Boyd, and even Kitty Gray come in the number; and I am sure I cannot love them as well as I do you, or sister Elizabeth, or dear Father." "That, my dear, is not strictly required; but a certain degree of kindly interest, enough to treat them well whenever you meet, or in other words, as you should like to be treated yourself." "This is quite a new idea to me, but I do not think I could love Kitty Gray; for she is always cross and selfish, and all the girls have determined to have nothing to do with her." "I hardly think this determination is a Christian one, though I acknowledge it is very difficult to bear with such disagreeable qualities. But did you never think, that by being kind and gentle among yourselves to poor Kitty Gray, you might make her amiable and pleasing? Remember, 'a soft answer turneth away wrath,' and certainly, a continued series of kindness will produce a much more beneficial effect than coldness and studied neglect." "I suppose you are right, Mother, but then I can't be different from the other girls, for they will laugh at me, and say I have left their friendship for such girls as Kitty Gray." "This need not be, my dear girl, if you act with a right spirit; and I do not see why you cannot be Kitty's friend, without leaving your old companions. Besides, if they are really good girls, better than Kitty herself, they will not only admire your conduct, but imitate it immediately. But the clock is striking eight, and when you return tell me of your success." She reached the school, greeted all the scholars, and none more kindly than Kitty Gray, who was sitting by herself as usual, the image of discontent and unhappiness. The latter was not a little surprised, at this unusual mark of attention, and repaid Emily's kindness by a bright glance of pleasure, which seemed to say, "I will not forget this." The girls also noticed the change in Emily's conduct, and asked her the reason of it. She replied, that she was going to try the effect of kindness upon poor Kitty, and begged them to join in the benevolent project. As she was a general favorite, they readily acceded to her plan, and when the hour for recess came, many a schoolmate proffered the poor girl some act of kindness, that probably had never noticed her before. She was invited to join in all the games, had bountiful presents of luncheon, and several offers of help, if she found her lessons difficult. Poor Kitty was quite softened by these unexpected tokens of regard, and when Emily explained the reasons of her former coldness, she resolved to correct her bad traits of character, and to be altogether a different girl. Emily went home with a smiling face and happy heart, and told her mother the adventures of the morning, being more than rewarded by the approving smile of Mrs. Franklin, who gave her permission to invite Kitty, with a few other girls, to spend the afternoon. They had a merry time together, and their affectionate and obliging manners to each other, showed very plainly that the law of love was in all their hearts. And ever after did Emily act up to the spirit of these divine words, "Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." May all Sunday School scholars endeavor to do the same, and they will have the joy of a good conscience and their heavenly Father's love. COUSIN KATE. A FEW RHYMES FOR DAN. There was a little puppy once, With silken hair and bright black face, Who, that he might not be a dunce, Was sent to school to learn apace. A pint of milk and crust of bread, Was every day his usual food; And for his rest a basket bed, Was made up warm, and nice, and good. He gambolled, frisked, and frolicked round, So full of fun the livelong day, That often did the room resound With laughter at his tricks and play. And when he had learned all he could, To keep him safe from every harm, They took him from all those he loved, And now he's living on a farm. Now large he's grown, and now he's seen, With fringing tail and drooping ears; With piercing eye and scent so keen, "Hunter's" a dog above his peers. And now for game the field he scours, Following the huntsman with his gun; But I know he thinks those school-day hours, His greatest glee, his grandest fun. Cross A STORY FOR LITTLE EMMA. In the shade of a leafy Butter-nut tree, a rosy cheeked little girl sat looking up at the blue sky, with many curious thoughts running through her head. A friend came and sat down beside her, and to make the time pass pleasantly, told the following little story: Once upon a time, a cluster of boys and girls gathered under this tree, for the sake of enjoying the beauty around them, whilst they studied and worked in the warm sunshine. Just in the midst, a visitor approached, and to their great delight Peter Parley stood before them. They could scarcely believe their eyes, for they imagined him an old man, but right glad were they to listen to his pleasant talk. He told them of many things he had seen in foreign lands, of his love for good children, and of his pleasure in serving such a happy, busy group. He also reminded them of the great Fisher Ames, who had lived on that very spot, and was the friend of the immortal Washington. He particularly impressed upon the minds of the boys, the importance of forming correct habits in early life; and said if they had the right spirit, they too might become great and good men. Just before he left, he showed them a new book which he had been preparing for their improvement, and which he hoped they would read for his sake. They all promised they would; and before he said good-by he shook hands with each one, they all begging him to come and see them again. After that memorable visit, many were the pleasant readings from the "Cabinet Library," and often was Peter Parley remembered by the inhabitants of the "Bird's Nest." A STORY TOLD UNDER THE GREAT ELM TREE. Well, patience young folks; don't all besiege me at once, and I will tell you about my own school-days. As the day is so warm and bright, I will make the scene at the South, among the thick pine woods of Georgia. I can distinctly recollect the singular features of the spot where I was sent to school, but it will be impossible to bring it to your mind's eye. There were about half a dozen log houses, and an Academy standing in the midst, like the Court-House there in the square; and being a neat wooden house of two stories, we thought it very grand. The little church was about a mile off, all by itself in the woods; but why it was placed at such a distance, we never could tell, unless it was to give people a pleasant walk on Sunday morning. The preacher was the school-master of the place, and, as I remember, was a very pleasant man, besides being a most excellent teacher. I remember the day I was first ushered into the school-room, filled with strange faces, when the master, patting me upon the head, said, "Here is a little stranger, and I hope you will do all you can to keep her from being home-sick." The kind admonition had its effect, and before the day was past, their warm hospitality made me feel as if among brothers and sisters. Many were the pleasures of my sojourn in Springfield, and among them, the excursions after wild flowers and birds were not the least frequent. Once I caught a great Gopher, or Land Turtle, sleeping under a tree, and brought him home in triumph. This creature has a tawny- colored shell on his back, and underneath is a yellow one, ending in a square shaped protuberance like a spade, and with this he digs his burrow or den. In these sand holes I often played, turning them into a baby house, with the pine cones for my numerous family of dolls. Sometimes the master went off with us, to show us the process of making pitch and tar, the dusky figures of the blacks tending the operation looking like so many imps. We often came across the huge coach-whip snake, so named from its resemblance to a whip- lash, and the hoop-snake, only found, I believe, in those regions, and of which the negroes are very much afraid. The flocks of wild pigeons which break the trees by their weight, were objects of unceasing delight, and for weeks we were feasted upon their delicate meat. But my flower garden was my greatest pride, surrounded with a little crooked fence, looking just like a row of herring-bone stitch, and the soil as black as ink. I can now see the bright blue spider-wort, the sweet-williams, the pinks, the ladies'-delight, and the clustering roses, making the homely log cabin most beautiful in my sight. The house, of one story, was built of logs, and with a chimney outside. The chinks between the logs were filled up with clay, which in case of the heavy rains so prevalent there, was not the least protection against the storm; so we were frequently liable to an inundation. The Crackers, a most ignorant and degraded class of poor people, used to pass through the woods on their way to market, where they carried things to sell. Their language is very uncouth, and their complexion very sallow, the effects of chills and fevers, and as some say from eating the yellow clay off the chimneys. Their bonnets were made of white cloth, and the tops of their wagons were of the same pattern, and are something like the covering of a butcher's cart here, but much lower and smaller. My old nurse, a free black woman, took good care of me, feeding me with sweet potatoes, rice, and hominy, and, as a great treat, with ground-nuts, which she parched to perfection. When I was sick, she hung a charm around my neck, firmly believing it performed the cure. The scholars were a merry, lively set, and in the winter evenings had a "Speaking Club," which I was allowed to attend, as a reward for conquering the mysteries of Long Division, and the spelling of such words as "Phthysic," "Catsup," &c. To me the rough blanket curtain concealed the most glorious scenes, and as I saw the performance of "Rolla and Pizarro," and listened to the musical cadences of Scott, or "The death of Absalom," by Willis, I felt wrapt in an Elysium. But now, girls, recess is over, and I will stop my description, or I shall run the risk of seeming egotistical. A LETTER. THE OAKS. My dear Daughter: I was very glad to hear from you, and I hope you continue as well as when you left home; for, of course, I consider your health of the greatest importance. To preserve this, I am excessively anxious to have you walk regularly every day, as often as twice, if possible. Be sure and keep up the habit of cold bathing, and do not forget your usual attention to your nails, teeth, and hair, for though I am not near to remind you of this care, you are now old enough to take it upon yourself. Remember the gold pencil your father has offered, if you cure yourself of the disagreeable habit of biting your nails; so make the effort, at least for his sake. Try hard to have all your lessons well prepared out of school, so that there will be time to look them over; and then if any difficulty occurs, it may be solved by the Teacher before recitation. While reciting, pay strict attention to all the explanations and illustrations given, for these are often of more value than the mere text, and by your interest you will make light the labor of instruction. Be punctual in your hours of attendance, for then no time will be lost, and a valuable habit will be formed, of great use in after life. Of course your social disposition will lead you to get acquainted with the other girls; but do be particular in your choice of companions, and always ask yourself, if they are such as your parents would approve, or will tend to improve you. Do not in any case repeat the sayings of one scholar to another, for nothing is more hateful than a habit of tattling, or a greater cause of mischief and unhappiness. Do not fancy it is the sign of a frank disposition, to report the harsh sayings made by one girl to another, but on the contrary, try to create peace and love among all your mates. Above all, be pleasant and affectionate in your bearing to your Teachers, for nothing will more quickly endear you to them, or so fully repay them for all their labors for your improvement. Do not forget my advice about romping with boys, a common habit with school-girls of your age; it is very foolish, and liable to be carried to excess, as you yourself know, in the late troubles at the Academy here. Be always truthful, and learn to bear a laugh at your expense, when you know you are in the right; for ridicule is far lighter to bear than the reproaches of conscience. You are so sensitive by nature, that I shall particularly caution you in this respect, as I know your tears are apt to overflow, even at trifling occurrences. These directions I hope will not seem too tedious to you, as my motive for sending them, is to make your duties lighter, and the time spent away from home more profitable. All these regulations are not incompatible with plenty of recreation, and when you play, do it in earnest; give full vent to your over- flowing spirits, and take plenty of exercise with your hoop and ball. It is a pleasant sight to see a young girl enjoying her games, and the one who works and studies the hardest, will play with the greatest zest. I particularly depend upon your keeping a journal, and anticipate great pleasure in reading it; for any thing interesting to you, no matter how trifling, will be interesting to me. Write to me often, freely and unreservedly, and if you will just imagine you are talking to me, you will have no difficulty in keeping up quite a correspondence with me. If I am ambitious for you in any one point, it is that you should be a fluent writer, and should excel in Composition. When you return home, if I see that you have improved your time, and appreciate the advantages of attending Mr. C.'s school, I will do all I can to make the vacation pass pleasantly. Besides a certain amount of reading and sewing, you are to enjoy yourself, riding, walking, and visiting as you fancy, for I mean to have the time a season of recreation. How do you like taking dancing lessons, and are you holding yourself more erect than formerly? As to your request about music lessons, I think you had better give up that plan for the present, for you have as much as you ought to do, and in a few years, you will have more time to practise thoroughly. When you leave school, you shall have the best instruction on the piano and in singing. Good night, my dear child. With love and remembrances from every member of the family, I remain, YOUR AFFECTIONATE MOTHER. A CONVERSATION ON FAIRS. Georgia. "Well, Sarah, I've come to invite you to attend our Fair this afternoon. Susy and I have been busy getting every thing ready, and we want you to come very much. The price of admission is six pins." Sarah. "Well, that isn't much I'm sure, and I will ask my mother. I am afraid she will not let me go, for I have not finished my work, and I know she disapproves of Fairs." Georgia. "Oh, this is only a make believe Fair, and so it can't do any harm. Besides, all we can earn we are going to give to the ladies, for the improvement of the Burying-Ground, and that is a good object." The mother just entering, Sarah asks her permission to attend the proposed Fair. Mother. "Where is to be, my dear?" Georgia. "At the hotel; and when it is over, we are to have a dance in the Hall." Sarah. "Oh, mother, say, can I go?" Mother. "I am afraid I must deny your request, for I dislike to have you engage in such excitements at your age, and more than all, I do not wish to have you at such public places so late in the evening, as will be the case. Wait till you are eighteen, and then there will be plenty of time for such gayeties, if you fancy them; but now, I want you to be contented with a child's pleasures." Sarah. "Oh, mother, I want to go so much; for Ellen, and Fanny, and Lizzie, and Kitty are all going, and their mothers are willing." Mother. "They are the best judges of their own actions, but I do not feel willing to have you there, and if you bear the disappointment patiently, you may invite your young friends to tea next Saturday afternoon." Sarah. "Oh, thank you, mother; and I can give the twenty-five cents I get for making this shirt, to the 'Ladies' Society' for improving the Burying-Ground." Mother. "Well, you may, my dear...