I know I wouldn't break it either if I moved it; but then--we promised."

"And mamma said we were _never_ to touch without permission," said
Bessie; "and we're trusted."

They both stood for some minutes, Maggie looking wishfully at the dog,
Bessie still stretching up her neck in a vain attempt to see him, when
Maggie suddenly said, "Bessie, mamma said it was not right to put
ourselves in the way of temptation, and I think I am doing it. This was
just the way I did the day I meddled with papa's inkstand. I stood
looking at it, and looking at it, and wishing I had it, till at last I
touched it, and did such a lot of mischief. I sha'n't look at the dog
any more, and let's go to the other side, and we wont think about it."

As they turned to do as Maggie proposed, they saw a miserable-looking
face peeping in at the glass door. It was that of a boy about eight
years old, poor, and in rags, his features all pinched with cold
and hunger. He was gazing wistfully at the pretty things and the
comfortably-dressed people who were within, and perhaps wishing that
Christmas brought such happiness to him. As one after another passed in
and out, he held up his thin hand and asked for help, but few heeded
him.

"See that poor boy," said Bessie; "I don't believe he has any money to
buy Christmas presents."

"I'm afraid not," said Maggie; "I guess he has not enough to buy bread
and fire; he looks so cold and thin, and what dreadful old clothes he
has!"

"Poor fellow!" said Bessie, in a pitying voice. "I s'pose he would like
some money very much. Do you think we could spare him a little of ours,
Maggie?"

"If we do, we can't spend so much for our presents," answered Maggie,
pulling out her portmonnaie from her muff and looking doubtfully at it.

"Do you think papa and mamma would mind it, Maggie, if we each gave the
boy five cents, and did not spend quite twenty for them?"

"I don't like to take it off papa's and mamma's presents," said Maggie.
"They are so very good to us, I want to give them all we can; but,
Bessie, I'll tell you. You know I was going to spend ten cents for you,
and you ten cents for me. Now we might only spend five cents for each
other, and then we can each give five to the boy. I don't mind, if you
don't, Bessie."

"No, Maggie, I'd yather give it to him, and then maybe he'll look a
little glad."

So each taking five cents from her pocket-book, they ran to the door
and put the money into the poor boy's hand, who did indeed look "a
little glad" as he received it.

When they came back to the table, the picture of the dog stood just
in front, where not only Maggie but Bessie, also, could see it quite
plainly.

"I hope nobody will think we meddled with that picture," said Bessie.

"No one shall think so," said the gentleman, who had been sitting near,
as he rose and threw down his paper. "I moved it myself."

"Then, if you please, sir," said Bessie, "will you tell the store
people you did it? I s'pose they wouldn't think you were naughty,
'cause you're big; but we are forbidden to touch, and we were trusted."

"And I see you are fit to be trusted," said the gentleman, smiling;
"and I have a right to touch what I please here, for the store and all
the things in it belong to me. Is there nothing upon the table which
you would like to buy?"

"Yes, sir," said Bessie, while Maggie was hanging her head in a
terrible fit of shyness at being talked to by this stranger, "if we
could afford it; but we think all these things cost too much. We have
not a very great deal of money."

"Let me hear what you would like to have, and I can tell you the
price," said the gentleman.

"How much is that paper-weight?" asked Bessie.

"Fifteen cents."

Bessie's eyes sparkled, and Maggie looked up in great surprise.

"And this cross, sir, how much is that?" said Bessie.

"That, also, is fifteen cents."

"Then we'll take them both for papa and mamma. I think you are a very
cheap gentleman, sir. We thought they would be too 'spensive for us
to buy," said the little girl. "Mamma will be very pleased with this
lovely picture."

"I hope so," said the gentleman. "Such a good mamma as you have
deserves to have a present that will please her."

"Do you know my mamma, sir?" asked Bessie, as she handed him the price
of her picture.

"No, but I am sure your mamma is a lady and a good woman, although I do
not know her, and I am sure, also, that she has taught you well, and
that you have paid heed to her lessons."

Bessie was herself quite certain of all this, but she wondered how the
gentleman could know it when he was a stranger to her mother. Perhaps
you and I may be able to guess.

"And papa deserves a nice present, too," she said; "he is an excellent
gentleman."

"I have not a doubt of it," said her new friend. "And now I suppose you
would like to have your purchases wrapped up, so that your papa and
mamma may not see them before the proper time."

"We would like to show them to our aunt first," said Bessie; and she
and Maggie scampered off with their treasures.

But when Aunt Helen saw them, she said there must be some mistake.
"Those things are worth much more than you have paid for them, my
darlings, you have misunderstood; or some one has been joking with you."

"Indeed, indeed, Aunt Helen, we did not make a mistake, and the
gentleman was quite sober," said Maggie.

"Who sold them to you?" asked Mrs. Duncan.

Bessie pointed out the person, and Mrs. Duncan went to speak to him.
Her little nieces looked after her with anxious eyes, fearing lest they
might have made some mistake, and that their new treasures would be
taken from them, and Bessie ran up just in time to hear the gentleman
say, with a laugh, "Surely, I may put what price I please upon the
articles I have for sale."

Mrs. Duncan laughed, too, and said, "Yes, certainly, but--"

"I assure you, I have been amply paid, madam," said the gentleman, "and
I beg you will consider the matter settled. It is all right, little
one," laying his hand on Bessie's head as she looked up at him; "you
have made no mistake;" and then taking the paper-weight and picture, he
wrapped them in paper and returned them to the children.

From this store they went to another, where they were a long time
choosing the ribbon for their book-marks, while Aunt Helen and Annie
waited with wonderful patience till they had decided this important
question. Here, also, a pincushion was bought for nurse, and an
emery-bag for Jane. Then Maggie, coming back from a show-case, about
which she had been spying, begged Aunt Annie to go to the other end of
the store, and on no account to turn her head. Aunt Helen was taken to
the case, and a box was pointed out which Maggie thought would be the
very thing for a ribbon-box.

"But you cannot buy that, dear," said Mrs. Duncan; "it is too
expensive."

"Oh, no, Aunt Helen! it is marked five cents,--just see," said Maggie.

"My poor pet, that is five dollars, not five cents."

This was a great disappointment, for Maggie had quite set her heart on
the box; but, of course, she and Bessie could not give five dollars,
since they had not the half of that to spend.

"It's real mean," she said, angrily, "to go and cheat children so, and
make them think it's five cents when it's five dollars."

"Do not speak so, dear," said her aunt; "'cheat' is not a pretty word
for you to use, and those numbers mean five dollars very plainly to any
one who can read them. Ask papa to teach you about that to-night."

"Let's go back and buy all our presents of that gentleman," said
Maggie. "He knows how to keep store a great deal better than these
people."

"Better for your purses than for his own, I think," said Mrs. Duncan,
laughing. "No, dear, we have bought enough there for this time. We will
find something else for Aunt Annie."

"Maggie, Maggie," called Bessie, "come and look at the cunningest glass
animals you ever saw in your life."

Maggie's displeasure was quite forgotten as she saw the pretty toys,
and as she and Bessie were looking at them, Aunt Annie joined them.

"What a beautiful glass cat!" she said. "I wish Santa Claus would
have one like it on the Christmas-tree for me. I should put it on my
what-not, and I do not believe that a mouse would dare to show so much
as the tip of his tail in my room, if I had this pussy to guard me."

"Oh, Aunt Annie," said Maggie; "just as if a mouse would be afraid of
such a mite of a glass kitty! He would know it could not hurt him."

"Well," said Annie, "if you see Santa Claus, just tell him I would like
to have it."

Maggie turned and looked at Bessie with a shake of her head, and eyes
which very plainly asked the question. "Shall we buy it for her?" and
Bessie answered with a nod which said quite as plainly, "By all means."

So they begged Aunt Annie to walk away once more, a request which she
had quite expected, and she went off laughing. Bessie asked the price
of the cat, and was told, "six cents," so there was no difficulty about
that, and pussy was bought. Then, after some whispering, Mrs. Duncan
was sent after Annie, and a glass deer was bought for her _étagere_.
The woman who served the children brought a small box, and putting some
cotton in it, laid the deer and the cat upon it, and gave the box into
Maggie's hand, saying that she could carry them safely in this way.
Maggie told Bessie that the woman knew how to keep store pretty well,
after all.

One or two more small purchases were made, and then they went home.
They went shopping several times with mamma or their aunts before all
their presents were bought; but two days before Christmas everything
was ready,--the book-marks with, "To my dear Father," and "To my dear
Mother," as well as those for Colonel and Mrs. Rush, a watchman's
rattle for noisy Fred, and for Harry, since he was fond of birds, a
yellow wooden canary in a pewter cage. It would take too long to name
each article, and the person for whom it was intended; but not one
of the family, or of their intimate friends, was forgotten. Papa and
mamma, brothers and sisters, aunts, uncle, and cousins, grandmamma and
the two grandpapas, Colonel and Mrs. Rush, Jemmy and Mary Bent, and
even each servant in the house were remembered and provided for; and
the older people were quite astonished to see how much the children had
done with the two dollars and sixty cents with which they had started.

And now began the grand preparations for the important day. The
Christmas-tree in its square green box came home, and was carried
into the library, where the children were now forbidden to go. The
"grown-upers," as Fred called them, were passing in and out all the
time, going in laden with parcels of all shapes and sizes, and coming
out empty-handed. But if the older people had their secrets, the
children, also, had theirs, not the least of which was one in which the
four eldest were engaged, and which was carried on for a while in the
boys' room.

The tree was not to be displayed until the evening of Christmas-day,
when there was to be a large family dinner at Mrs. Bradford's, to which
Colonel and Mrs. Rush were invited.

[Illustration: decorative]

[Illustration: decorative]

XVII.

_CHRISTMAS._

"WHO is going to hang up a stocking to-night?" asked Fred, as the
children watched their father and uncle while they dressed the room
with greens on Christmas-eve.

"I shall," said Harry.

"And I," said Maggie.

"I don't know about it," said Bessie; "maybe Santa Claus will think we
are greedy, if we hang up our stockings when we are going to have a
Christmas-tree."

"No, pet," said Harry; "he's a generous old fellow, and, besides, he'll
know that we don't expect much in our stockings. We'll leave a little
note, telling him we only do it for the fun of the thing."

"He'll scorch his old legs coming down the chimney to-night," laughed
Fred; "there's a roaring big fire in mamma's grate."

"Oh, he's used to it," said Harry; "he minds neither heat nor cold."

"Maggie," said Fred, "if you hear a scrambling and pawing in mamma's
chimney to-night, you can jump up and take a look at him through the
crack of the door."

"We wouldn't be so mean," answered Maggie. "If he meant us to see him,
he would come in the day-time when we are up; and if he knew we did it,
perhaps he'd just go whisking up the chimney, and not leave us a single
thing."

"Hurrah for honest Maggie!" said Fred. "I hope Santa Claus is around
somewhere, and heard you say that. He'll give you a reward for it."

"Children," said Bessie, "you talk as if Santa Claus yeally was."

"You don't mean to say he really is not!" said Fred. "Now, if he has
heard you, Bess, he'll be affronted, and punish you, as he will reward
Midget."

"I know who Santa Claus is," said Bessie, gravely, "and I wonder if
it's yight to talk so earnest about him."

"Mamma said it was not wrong," said Maggie, "'cause every one knew it
was only a joke, and no one meant to deceive; but it's fun to think
about him and talk about him, so I am going to do it."

"I wonder how this notion of Santa Claus ever came about?" said Harry.
"Let us ask papa."

But Mr. Bradford was too busy just then to attend to them, and said he
would tell them at another time.

When Maggie and Bessie went up-stairs, their brothers went with them to
assist in hanging up the stockings, and when nurse found what they were
doing, she came too, bringing Franky's stocking and a tiny worsted sock.

"Holloa," said Fred, "you are not going to hang up that apology for a
stocking, nursey? Why, Santa Claus will never see it! and if he did,
he'll have nothing small enough in his pack to put in it."

"I'll trust to his forgetting my pet," said the old woman. "If he
overlooks any one, it will be the one of the family that's always in
mischief and up to some saucy prank; and maybe he'll just put a rod in
that one's stocking."

"Poor mammy!" said Fred, "do you really think Santa Claus will serve
you such a shabby trick as that, and not bring you a single thing?
If he does, I'll save all my pocket-money for a month, and buy you
something nice."

Nursey shook her head at the roguish fellow, whom she dearly loved
in spite of all his mischief and teasing, and having fastened up the
little sock, she carried Maggie and Bessie away to undress them.

If the little girls had been awake an hour later, when their brothers
stopped in mamma's room on their way up to bed, they might have said
that Santa Claus had a great deal of laughing and whispering to do;
but they were sound asleep, and heard nothing till the next morning,
when nurse, according to promise, came to wake them at an earlier hour
than usual; for nurse and Patrick had been taken into the secret, and
the latter had promised not to ring the rising-bell for this morning,
but to let the children wake their parents in their own way. Harry
had procured half a dozen bells of different tones, and had taught his
brother and sisters to ring them in tune, producing what they called
"Christmas Chimes." I cannot say that they sounded much like chimes,
or that the tune was very easily distinguished; but since the children
were satisfied with their own performance, it answered all the purpose.
And certainly had not papa and mamma been already awake, they could not
have slept one moment after all this din was raised at their door. Mr.
Bradford, however, was up and nearly dressed, for Miss Baby had chosen
to wake at an early hour, and looking around for something with which
to amuse herself, had discovered two new playthings in her father's
nose and hair. These she chose to consider her own proper Christmas
gifts, and had ever since been making good use of them. Papa tired
of the fun sooner than she did, and had been forced to take the new
toys beyond the reach of the little hands. Both he and mamma laughed
heartily at their Christmas greeting; but soon came sweeter sounds,
for when the chimes were over, the four clear young voices rose in the
beautiful hymn:--

    "Hark, the herald angels sing
    Glory to the new-born King."

No music ever sounded more delightful in the ears of Mr. and Mrs.
Bradford, and when the hymn was finished, papa waited to be sure that
no more was to follow. But now came shouts of "Merry Christmas!" and
as he opened the door, the whole happy, laughing flock rushed in, with
Flossy barking joyously at their heels.

"Now for the stockings!" said Fred, when all loving wishes had been
exchanged. "One at a time. You begin, Hal."

There hung the stockings all in a row as they had been left last night;
but now they were full instead of empty, and to the top of each was
pinned a piece of paper with some words written in a large, sprawling
hand.

Now Harry, though he was by no means a miserly boy, had a fancy for
saving all sorts of stray odds and ends, saying that they might be of
use some day. This habit of his gave a great deal of amusement to Fred,
and now he seemed much delighted when on Harry's paper were found the
words, "For Master Save-all." At the top of the stocking was a packet
of sugar-plums, below an old battered tin cup, some broken pieces of
china, part of a knife-blade, and some scraps of paper. Harry rolled
the paper into a ball and threw it at Fred's head.

"Now for number two," said the mischievous fellow, unpinning the paper
from his stocking, which did not look as full as Harry's. "'The
pattern boy of the house'--that's myself, of course,--'needs nothing
but the reward of his own conscience, and the goodies whose sweetness
is only equalled by his disposition.' Good for Santa Claus! He's a
gentleman of sense."

"There's something else there," said Maggie.

Fred looked rather surprised, but plunging his hand down to the
bottom of his stocking, pulled out a small square box. Opening it, he
found two little parcels, one containing mustard, the other pepper,
with the labels, "Like to like." He colored furiously, but laughed
good-naturedly, saying, "All fair; give and take."

On Maggie's paper was written, "For the girl who would not peep." And
besides sugar-plums, the stocking held a tiny log-cabin, a puzzle
of Harry's which she had long wished to have, and two or three other
small toys. Bessie's and Franky's held pretty much the same, except
that in Bessie's, instead of the log-cabin, was a tiny doll dressed as
a policeman; for since her adventure she had been very fond of talking
of her friends, the policemen, and her stocking was ticketed, "For the
girl who will not believe that Santa Claus really is."

But now nurse, coming in after her baby, looked first at her little
sock, and to her great disgust, found nothing but a bundle of twigs
tied on the outside.

"The old rascal!" she said; "does he mean to say my baby wants a
whipping? The best baby that ever lived! I'll just lay this rod over
his own shoulders."

"You'll have to catch him first," said Fred, "and you wont have a
chance till next Christmas-eve."

"Wont I though?" said nurse, and she made a grasp at the laughing boy,
who dived, and the next instant was off with nurse after him. But nurse
was old and fat, Fred, young and active, and he vaulted over balusters,
and took flying leaps down-stairs in a way which quite terrified her;
so that she begged him to "stop and not risk his neck on this blessed
Christmas morn."

"As well risk my neck as my shoulders," said Fred. "Will you promise
not to visit the sins of Santa Claus on me if I consent not to kill
myself?"

Nurse promised, and went back for her baby, whom she carried off to
the nursery, covering it with kisses, and talking to it as though she
thought it very badly treated.

"It's rather droll, is it not, that Santa Claus' handwriting should be
so much like that of our Fred?" said Mr. Bradford.

"Not at all, sir, for he took lessons of me when he was young,"
answered the rogue, with a comical look at his father.

"Papa," said Harry, at the breakfast-table, "can you tell us now about
Santa Claus?"

"I will tell you all I know, but that is not much," said his father.
"Santa Claus is Dutch or German for St. Nicholas. Many hundred years
ago, there lived far away in the East a good old bishop, named
Nicholas, who gave up his life to acts of charity and mercy. He was
said to have a great love for children, and many stories are told of
his kindness to them; hence, he came to be regarded as their special
friend. After his death, the Romish Church, to which he belonged,
made him a saint; and as his feast day, or the day which particularly
belonged to him, happened to be near Christmas, he was supposed to
take a great share in the rejoicings of that day."

"But why is he said to come down the chimney and fill stockings?" asked
Fred.

"I do not know," said Mr. Bradford, "and though I have questioned
several people who know a great deal about old customs, I have never
been able to find out how this idea arose. In some parts of Europe,
he is supposed to be a child angel, not an old man; and in France the
children call him Noel, and put their shoes on the hearth to be filled.
Perhaps the custom of giving presents at this time arose from the gifts
which the wise men of the East brought to the infant Saviour; perhaps
it was only intended to remind us of the greatest and most precious of
all gifts which _we_ received on this day. My Bessie can tell what that
was; can she not?"

"God's Jesus, who came to save us, so his Father could take us to
heaven," said the little girl.

"Right, my darling; and can Maggie tell what was the song the angels
sang on this happy morning?"

"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward
men," said Maggie.

"And every Christmas-day since the song has been repeated by men and
angels. Is it not a pleasant thought that all over the world, in every
land where Christ is known, millions of happy voices ring forth the
glad tidings, 'For unto us is born this day a Saviour, who is Christ
the Lord;' that millions of young children are singing praises to him
who became a little child that he might bring to us the one priceless
gift without which all others are worthless? For from this flows every
good thing; without the peace, comfort, and safety which this has
brought, there would be nothing but misery and unhappiness, even for
those who do not love and bless the holy child Jesus, or trust to his
salvation. Every prayer which we offer, not only on this day but on all
days of the year, finds its way to the Father's ear only through his
name; every joy is made brighter, every sorrow lighter, by the thought
of the one great blessing the birthday of our Saviour brought."

And now there were down-stairs several poor people to be attended
to before church-time; for on this day, of all others, Mr. and Mrs.
Bradford would not forget those who had not as many good gifts as
themselves. There was Mary Bent, who had risen long before daylight
that she might be in the city at an early hour. Very cold and tired she
looked, but she cheerfully answered the children's "Merry Christmas;"
and when she had eaten the good breakfast Mrs. Bradford ordered for
her, the color came into her pale cheeks, and she quite agreed with
Maggie and Bessie that this was the happiest day in all the year.

"Mrs. Duncan ordered our Christmas dinner sent from Riverside, ma'am,"
she said, courtesying to Mrs. Bradford; "and old Mr. Duncan sent a
puzzle to Jemmy; so there's nothing more to be wished for."

"Still," said the lady, "I suppose you will not refuse the present
which the children have for you."

No fear of that, as the sparkle of Mary's eyes showed when Maggie and
Bessie came with the warm sack which they had bought for her. It was
tried on at once, and found to fit pretty well, leaving, it is true,
some room for Mary to grow, but that was a fault on the right side.
Mrs. Bradford gave her a hood for herself, and a book for Jemmy, with
a parcel of cakes and candies, and some tea and sugar for her mother,
and the little radish-girl went home with a light, happy heart.

There was an old negro man nearly a hundred years of age, but who still
managed to hobble about with a stick and pay a Christmas visit to his
kind friends, and who, when Mrs. Bradford gave him money and a hat,
said, "Dear honey, I didn't spect nothin'; I jest came for a sight of
your pooty face." But, nevertheless, old Jack would have been sadly
disappointed to go away empty-handed; indeed, I think it quite doubtful
if he would have gone away at all until he had received something.

There were several others to be made happy, but it would take too long
to tell who they all were. Every one, however, went from Mr. Bradford's
door blessing the kind hearts who could not be content unless they
shared with others the many good gifts God had bestowed upon them.
Then to church to praise the Lord for all the mercies of the day; after
which, Maggie and Bessie were taken to a large room, where the children
of the Church Mission School were to have a Christmas dinner. Roast
beef and turkey, with other good things, had been furnished for the
little ones, many of whom, perhaps, never had a comfortable meal save
on this day of the year.

Mrs. Bradford brought her children away before the dinner was quite
over, for she feared Bessie would be too tired, and when they reached
home, told her she must take a little rest. Bessie thought it a pity
to lose a moment of Christmas-day in sleep; but, like the obedient
child she was, lay down on mamma's sofa. But after lying quite still
for about ten minutes with her eyes closed, she said, "Mamma, I have
kept my eyes tight shut for a great many hours, and the sleep will not
come."

Her mother laughed, and said she might get up, since the time seemed so
long, and sent her to the nursery to be dressed for dinner.

And now came grandmamma and Aunt Annie, Grandpapa Duncan, Aunt Helen,
and Uncle John with Baby Nellie, and afterwards, Colonel and Mrs. Rush.
What a long dinner-table that was, and what a circle of bright, happy
faces about it! Maggie and Bessie, and perhaps Fred and Harry, too,
had thought it rather foolish to think of dinner when there was the
Christmas-tree waiting in the library; but, somehow, they all contrived
to enjoy the merry meal very much. Fred declared he wished his father
kept a hotel, it was so jolly to sit down to dinner with such a lot of
people.

Soon came Tom, Lily, and Eddy Norris, with Gracie Howard, to share in
the grand event of the day. Papa and Uncle John disappeared for a few
moments, then the servants were called, the library-door thrown open,
and there stood the Christmas-tree in all its splendor. On the topmost
bough was a figure of old Santa Claus, with his pack upon his back;
around him burned a row of wax tapers, and on every little twig hung
flags, spangles, bright-colored balls, and bonbons; while the larger
and stouter branches and the green tub were covered with the heavier
gifts. Such shouts of delight as came from the little ones! Baby, in
mamma's arms, seemed to think the whole show was for her amusement,
and crowed and laughed and stretched out her dimpled hands towards
the pretty things, which she would soon have destroyed, had she been
allowed to grasp them.

When the tree had been sufficiently admired, Mr. Bradford stepped
forward, and, taking down one after another of the gifts, handed them
to the persons for whom they were intended. One of the first things was
a sweet picture in a black walnut frame, which he gave to mamma. Great
was her delight when she saw the faces of her two little daughters, so
prettily painted by her sister.

"Now may we see, Aunt Helen?" said Maggie, and receiving permission,
she and Bessie ran eagerly forward. "Oh, how sweet Bessie and Flossy
look! And there's another pretty little girl standing by--Why, that's
me!"

Every one laughed, but Maggie was so pleased she did not think about
that, but thanked Aunt Helen for putting her in the picture. Bessie was
even more surprised, and could not understand how her aunt could paint
a picture without her knowing it.

Now papa called Maggie, for there was a beautiful little bed for her
doll; and next came one for Bessie. Never was there a tree that bore
such various and delightful fruit,--fruit suited to large and small,
from Grandpapa Duncan down to the dear baby; and never were richer
or happier children than our Maggie and Bessie. There seemed to be
presents from every one to every one, and happy voices and merry
laughter filled the room. The Colonel and Mrs. Rush were very much
pleased with the book-marks, "I love you, Sir," and "Remember me,
Ma'am;" that is, if smiles and kisses were to be taken as signs, and
promised to keep them as long as they lived.

Nor were papa and mamma less delighted with the paper-weight and
picture and the markers worked with "To my dear father," and "To my
dear mother." Mamma did not in the least care that Maggie, trying to do
hers by herself, had put the o and the m, quite close together, making
it read "Tomy dear mother," a mistake which mischievous Aunt Annie,
enjoying the joke, had not corrected. Of all the gifts which Mr. and
Mrs. Bradford received that evening, none pleased them more than those
which the fingers of their own little daughters had manufactured.

As for nurse, she scarcely had eyes or thoughts for her own presents,
so occupied was she with the treasures which showed that the youngest
darling of the flock had not been forgotten.

"Well, mammy," said Fred, shaking in the old woman's ears the silver
and coral rattle which had been grandmamma's gift to baby, "will you
forgive the trick which Santa Claus served you last night?"

"I will," answered nurse, "and I wish he may never turn out a worse
fellow than the rogue who played his part."

The excitement and gayety was calming down a little, when Harry
suddenly said, "See there, papa. There must be a fire," and he pointed
towards the window.

Mr. Bradford hastily drew back the curtain, and as a crimson glare was
seen upon the snow, it did indeed seem for a moment as if Harry's words
were true.

But directly Mr. Bradford said, "It is no fire, but a splendid aurora;
let us go up-stairs, where we may have a better view;" and taking
Bessie in his arms, he carried her to an upper room, whither they were
followed by all the rest. It was indeed a magnificent sight which met
their eyes. Far down in the northern sky appeared a dark purple arch;
above it a second of the brightest gold, while from the latter shot
long rays or streamers of every brilliant color, changing each instant,
and overhead glowed the steadier crimson light, which, throwing its
reflection on the pure white snow, had caused Harry to think it was a
large fire.

For a moment Maggie and Bessie stood speechless with delight, for
they had never seen anything like this before. Then Bessie exclaimed,
joyously, "Papa, papa, have the angels opened the gates of heaven to
let the glory shine out 'cause it's Christmas night?"

No one smiled at the pretty idea, though all were pleased; for sweet as
was the thought, it yet was solemn, and as they watched the flashing
play of those beautiful northern lights, it did indeed seem almost
as if there were reason in the little darling's words, and as if
the hosts of heaven in their rejoicing over man's salvation might
be giving them some glimpse of the glory purchased for them on this
blessed night.

But Mr. Bradford whispered softly as he drew her closer to him, "No, my
darling. Our eyes may never behold the beauty of heaven till our Father
takes us to himself. This is the work of his hand, and lovely it is;
but it is as nothing to the glory of the great white throne whereon he
sits."

And so ended this happy Christmas which our Maggie and Bessie will both
remember as long as they shall live.

[Illustration: decorative]

[Illustration: decorative]

XVIII.

_THE PURCHASE OF THE LIBRARY_

ON the Sunday morning following Christmas, Mrs. Rush asked her little
scholars if they all had their money ready for the library. Each one
answered "Yes," and she told them she would allow them to choose what
books they would send; and that on the next day she would take them all
down town to a large store, where they would find a great number of
pretty and suitable children's books. Accordingly, on Monday morning,
she drove up to Mr. Bradford's door at the appointed hour. Maggie and
Bessie, ready for the ride, were watching for her, and did not keep
her a moment waiting. Then they stopped at Mr. Howard's door to take
up Gracie, and next at Mr. Norris' for Lily. Each little girl, as she
entered the carriage, would offer Mrs. Rush her share of the money; but
she told them they had better keep it until they had bought the books,
and then pay for them with their own hands.

"Please don't say 'the books,'" said Maggie.

"And why not?" asked Mrs. Rush. "Are you not going to buy books?"

"Yes'm," said Maggie; "but then it is a great deal more satisfaction to
say 'library.'"

"Oh! that is it," said Mrs. Rush, laughing. "Well, hereafter, I shall
be careful to say your 'library.'"

"Not ours; the log-cabin children's library," said Gracie.

"Very well," said Mrs. Rush. "You will have me all right by and by. I
see I must be on my guard with such very particular young ladies."

"Don't you like to be coryected, Mrs. Yush?" asked Bessie.

"Certainly; when I am wrong, I always wish to be put right; and I shall
speak of your log-cabin library in any way you please; for you have
surely earned the right to say how it shall be."

"Tom says Maggie and Bessie deserve more credit than Gracie and I,"
said Lily, "because they really earned the money, and Gracie and I had
it without taking any trouble about it."

"But you have denied yourselves in order to give it," said Mrs. Rush,
"and I think you ought not to be without your share of credit."

"What does 'credit' mean?" asked Bessie.

"Oh!" said Maggie, before any one else could speak, "it means to think
yourself very great, and to have a fuss made about you. I am sure we
did not do it for that; did we, Bessie?"

"I know Tom did not mean that," said Lily. "He thinks you're very nice."

"And I think Maggie makes a mistake, and does not quite understand the
meaning of the word 'credit,'" said Mrs. Rush. "To give a person credit
for any action, dear Maggie, is only to give him the praise that is due
to him. There is no need to think that people are making a fuss about
you because they do this."

"I can't help it, Mrs. Rush," said Maggie. "I always do feel great when
people praise me, and nurse says it is not good for me."

"What do you mean by feeling great?" asked Mrs. Rush. "Do you mean you
feel vain and self-glorious?"

"No," said Maggie, "not quite that, but I feel pleased, and as if I
liked it; and I know sometimes I do things because I hope people will
praise me; but I am quite sure I did not do this for that, but because
I felt sorry for those log-cabin children, and wanted to help them."

"I have not a doubt of it, my dear little girl," said Mrs. Rush, "and I
do not think you could have been so earnest and persevering if you had
not had a better motive than the desire for praise. I believe you have
all done it from a sincere wish to help others who are not as well off
as yourselves; and it is not wrong to like praise, Maggie, if we do not
allow it to make us vain, or to cause us to cease from well-doing. We
all enjoy it, old and young; and if it is sincere, and we feel that we
deserve it, it is quite right to be pleased with the approval of our
friends."

"But Maggie is a great deal nicer than she thinks herself," said
Bessie. "I don't think anybody knows how very nice she is, 'cept me."

Mrs. Rush smiled at the affectionate little sister, who never missed a
chance of saying a kind or loving word for Maggie.

So they chatted away until they reached the bookstore, where Mrs. Rush
went in with the whole of her small flock. This was a very large store,
and from the floor to the ceiling the walls were covered with shelves,
on which lay piles on piles of books. The gentleman whom Mrs. Rush
wished to see was engaged, and she sat down to wait until he should be
at liberty to attend to her; while the children gathered about her,
noticing all around them, and prattling away as fast as their tongues
could go.

"Did you ever see such lots and lots of books?" said Gracie.

"I suppose the gentleman who owns this store must be about a million
years old," said Lily.

"Why, he couldn't be," said Maggie; "only the people that lived in the
Bible were so very old. I wish I had lived then, it's such fun to be
alive."

"If you had lived then, you would not be alive now," said Mrs. Rush,
with a smile; "and no one ever lived to be a million years old. The
world has not been created so long, and the oldest man, Methuselah, was
only nine hundred and sixty-nine when he died. But what made you think
Mr. ---- must have lived a million years, Lily?"

"Because he has written such lots of books," said Lily; "just see how
many!"

"But you do not think Mr. ---- has himself written all these books?"

"Why, yes'm," said Lily.

"It would indeed take a long life-time to write so many," said Mrs.
Rush, "but I do not believe Mr. ---- has written more than half a
dozen."

"Who did it, then?" asked Lily.

"A great many different persons. People write books and bring them
to Mr. ----, and he publishes them; that is, he has them printed and
bound, and then sells them."

"I am glad it took a great many people to do it," said Maggie, "because
if they take the trouble to write books for children, I suppose it's
because they like us; and it is pleasant to have a great many people to
love you."

"I wonder why 'most everybody loves children," said Gracie.

"If you thought about Christmas, you'd know that," said Bessie. "It's
'cause Jesus was once a little child; and besides, when he was a man,
he loved children his own self."

Just then the gentleman for whom Mrs. Rush was waiting came forward,
and said he was now at leisure to attend to her. She told him for what
she had come, and that she wished these little girls, who were going to
pay for the library, to choose their favorite books.

He shook hands with them all, and then, taking paper and pencil, told
them to tell him in turn what they would have.

Bessie, being the youngest, had the first choice, and she named the
books she liked best. The others did the same, but when the list was
made out, Mr. ---- said ten dollars would purchase several more, and
bringing some volumes which had just been published, said he could
recommend those for their purpose. The children were quite ready to
take them upon his word, and when the whole ten dollars' worth was laid
out, looked at the pile with great satisfaction. Mr. ---- offered to
send the books wherever they might choose but that would not answer at
all. The library must be taken with them in the carriage, and carried
home by Mrs. Rush, with whom it was to remain until those of the
children's friends who wished to see it had had the opportunity, when
it was to be sent to Miss Winslow, with a note from the four little
girls to the Western children. Maggie was asked by the others to "make
up" the note, and as Mrs. Rush took them all home to spend the rest of
the day with her and the colonel, it was done before they separated
that evening. This was the note which Colonel Rush wrote out and put up
with the books:--

     "Dear log-cabin children, whose names we don't know, but we
     like you all the same, please to take this library. Four
     of us send it to you,--Maggie and Bessie and Gracie and
     Lily; and I am Maggie, and the others are the rest. Our
     dear teacher, Miss Winslow, who used to have us all except
     Bessie, who was too little, in her Sunday-school class, is
     going to teach you in your log-cabin, and Santa Claus put
     a log-cabin in my stocking, but I knew it was Fred; and
     she says you have very few books, and we would like you to
     have some more; so we have bought this library for you, and
     we hope you will read all the books and like them. Papa
     and Colonel Rush are going to send you some picture cards
     with hymns and verses like those in our Sunday-school, and
     Miss Winslow is going to take you some Bibles, so you see
     if you want to learn about Jesus you can, and if you are
     good children, you will. Miss Winslow is very good, and you
     will love her very much, and we are very sorry she is going
     away; but now we have Sunday-school in Mrs. Rush's room,
     and she is so sweet you can't think, and the colonel does
     tell us such stories; so we can spare Miss Winslow, and you
     must be very good to Miss Winslow, because she left her
     comfortable home to be a missionary to you, and Mr. Long,
     too, so you ought to mind all they say, and if you do not,
     you ought to be served right, and never have any of the
     library books to read. But we think you will be good, and
     some day Miss Winslow is going to write to us about you,
     and if you are naughty, you would be ashamed to have it put
     in a letter. Dear log-cabin children, we all send you our
     love, and we hope you had a Christmas-tree, and here are
     our names:--

                          MAGGIE BRADFORD.
                          GRACIE HOWARD.
                          LILY NORRIS.
                          BESSIE BRADFORD."

The colonel wrote it all down just as Maggie dictated it to him, but
when Miss Winslow read the letter to the Western children, she did not
think it necessary to read the whole of the last part, but left out a
few words here and there. As Maggie did not know this, it did not make
any difference to her.

The books were covered and put up in a neat box which Mr. Bradford
provided, and then given into Miss Winslow's care. She was very much
pleased, and told the little girls she should not fail to tell the
Western children all about their kind young friends in the East.

Some weeks after she went away, there came a letter from her, directed,
"To my dear little scholars." It had come in another to Mrs. Rush, and
arrived on Saturday night; so when they came to her room on Sunday
morning, they found this pleasure awaiting them. Mrs. Rush read it
aloud to them.

     "MY DEAR LITTLE GIRLS,--

     "After a long and tedious journey, we arrived at this
     place. We lost several articles of our baggage by the way,
     but I am glad to tell you that your precious library was
     not among them. That came quite safely, and it would do
     good to your generous young hearts to see what delight
     these poor children take in the books; and not only the
     children, but the grown people, also, are very anxious to
     have them.

     "We are not living in a large city or village, but in a
     small settlement of a dozen or so of houses, and very
     different the houses are from those you are accustomed to.
     They are all log-cabins, our own as well as the rest; but
     we manage to make ourselves pretty comfortable and quite
     contented. Then we have so much to do that there is no time
     to think of little annoyances.

     "On Sunday the people come from other settlements, miles
     and miles away, to hear Mr. Long preach; and when our
     simple services are over, the children beg for the books
     you have sent for their use. Some of them are well thumbed
     already, but, on the whole, they take good care of them,
     partly for their own sakes, partly for that of their kind
     little friends so far away.

     "On week-days, Mr. Long rides from place to place to teach
     and talk to the people. When I can borrow a pony or mule,
     I go with him, and the cry is always for 'books, books.' I
     take two or three from the library with me, and leave them
     here and there. They pass from house to house, till all
     who wish have read them, then they are returned to me, and
     others asked for.

     "There is an old colored woman who lives in one of the
     houses near us; she has not left her bed for years; she
     is lame and helpless. I went to see her when I first came
     here, but she took little notice of me until I offered to
     read to her. Then she turned her face to me, and asked if
     I had books. I told her yes, and seeing she was ready to
     listen, I opened my Bible and read several chapters to
     her. To my surprise, she seemed to be quite familiar with
     God's word, and asked for certain chapters, not by name
     or number, but by repeating some verse they contained, or
     by telling me the subject. Since then I have been to see
     her every day; and thinking she might like to hear some of
     the pretty stories in your library, I took one with me the
     other morning. She seemed well pleased with the idea, and
     before I began, I told her how I had procured the books.
     She was much interested, and at last asked the names of
     the children who had been so thoughtful. When I mentioned
     Maggie and Bessie Bradford, her whole face lighted up,
     and she asked me whose children they were. I told her, and
     she at once said she had known Maggie's and Bessie's papa
     when she was at home, 'to dear ole New York;' and told me
     that her brother Jack, if he were still alive, often went
     to see Mr. Bradford's family, who were very kind to him. So
     when Maggie and Bessie see old Jack, they can tell him this
     news of his sister. Poor old Dinah never tires of asking
     about you, or of talking of the family, and when I go away,
     always begs me to leave one of the library-books with her.
     She cannot read a word, but she says she likes to look at
     the picturs, and to hold the book in her hands, because it
     does her good just to feel it and think it came from 'dear
     Massa Henry's chillen.'

     "So, my little darlings all, you see what joy your present
     has brought to these poor people. That God may bless you
     for your readiness to help in his work, and reward you
     abundantly is the prayer of

                          "Your loving
                              "MARY LONG."

[Illustration: The End.]

Transcriber's Notes

Minor punctuation typos have been silently corrected. Retained
author's preferences for "wont" instead of changing to "won't;" and
kept both variations of "mean while" and "meanwhile."

Page 72: "stiches" is probably a typo for "stitches."
  (Orig: learning to put in stiches that grew neater)

Page 132: "crimsom" is probably a typo for "crimson."
  (Orig: butterfly, with wings of crimsom, blue, and gold.)

Page 264: Retained spelling variations of "Charlie" and "Charley."

Page 278: Retained the question mark, but it may be a typo.
  (Orig: "We are going to do a purpose with it?" said Bessie,)

Page 394: "picturs" may be a typo for "pictures" or intentional
dialect.
  (Orig: but she says she likes to look at the picturs,)