_Fifth child:_ Oh! "merry, merry Christmas,"

Shout the happy sound, Till "merry, merry Christmas,"

Spreads the world around; Wonderful the story, Unto G.o.d may glory Evermore abound.

_Carine L. Rose, in Good Housekeeping._

=Christmas Questions.=

BY WOLSTAN DIXEY.

(At the three last words the speaker raises her finger impressively.)

How old is Santa Claus? Where does he keep?

And why does he come when I am asleep?

His hair is so white in the pictures I know, Guess he stands on his head all the time in the snow.

But if he does that, then why don't he catch cold?

He must be as much as,--most twenty years old.

I'd just like to see him once stand on his head, And dive down the chimney, as grandmother said.

Why don't his head get all covered with black?

And if he comes head first, how can he get back?

Mamma knows about it, but she wont tell me.

I shall keep awake Christmas eve, then I can see.

I have teased her to tell me, but mamma she won't, So I'll find out myself now; see if I don't.

=A Catastrophe.=

BY SUSIE M. BEST.

If old Kriss Kringle should forget To travel Christmas eve, I tell you now, I think next day The little folks would grieve.

There wouldn't be a single toy, A single box or book, And not a bit of candy in Their stockings when they'd look

Because, you see, Kriss Kringle has A "corner" on these things, 'Tis he, and he alone, who in The night our presents brings.

Then let us all try to avert This sad catastrophe, And hope Kriss Kringle may at least Remember you and me.

=A Christmas Gift.=

By MABEL L. PRAY.

It seems that dear old Santa Claus One day in old November Received a note from Dottie D--, With words and phrases tender, In which she asked the dear old man With many words of warning, To bring her a new Paris doll On the next Christmas morning.

Just as he started for his sleigh One eve, in old December, He turned to Mistress Santa Claus And said, "Did you remember About that fine new Paris doll For wee Dot in the city?

I must not fail to take that gift, 'Twould be a dreadful pity."

It was early in the morning, One day in old December; A very happy, joyous day That children all remember, When Santa, on his mission fleet, To the nursery came creeping, And left the fine new Paris doll Among the others, sleeping.

The holly and the mistletoe Were bright this winter morning; One stocking filled from top to toe The mantel was adorning.

A Christmas tree hung full with gifts, While underneath, reposing On an upholstered rocking chair, The Paris doll was dozing.

Then suddenly from out the gloom Dot's other dolls came peeping, Their hair uncombed, their dresses torn, And noses red with weeping; They talked in whispers soft and low, But tones that grew quite scornful, About the fate that was to greet This stranger, sad and mournful.

There were Annabel and Bessie, That came one cold December; They hobbled round with broken backs From falling on the fender.

Then Tommy, Grace, and baby Ruth, All came one birthday party, And Rose and Don a year ago, With Santa Claus so hearty.

They all a.s.sembled round the tree, And then with manners shocking They pinched and shook the Paris doll, And cried in words so mocking-- "Why, don't you know, you stupid thing, Dot won't care for another, She has received this Christmas morn A dear, sweet baby brother!"

=A Christmas Thought.=

(To be recited with careful regard to smoothness, without a sing-song effect.)

Oh Christmas is coming again, you say, And you long for the things he is bringing; But the costliest gift may not gladden the day, Nor help on the merry bells ringing Some getting is losing, you understand, Some h.o.a.rding is far from saving; What you hold in your hand may slip from your hand, There is something better than having; We are richer for what we give; And only by giving we live.

Your last year's presents are scattered and gone; You have almost forgot who gave them; But the loving thoughts you bestow live on As long as you choose to have them.

Love, love is your riches, though ever so poor; No money can buy that treasure; Yours always, from robber and rust secure, Your own, without stint or measure; It is only love that we can give; It is only by loving we live.

For who is it smiles through the Christmas morn-- The Light of the wide creation?

A dear little Child in a stable born, Whose love is the world's salvation.

He was poor on earth, but He gave us all That can make our life worth the living; And happy the Christmas day we call That is spent, for His sake, in giving; He shows us the way to live, Like Him. Let us love and give!

--_Lucy Larcom_

=A Merry Christmas Eve.=

It chanced upon the merry, merry Christmas eve I went sighing past the church across the moorland dreary: "Oh! never sin and want and woe this earth will leave, And the bells but mock the wailing round, they sing so cheery.

How long, O Lord! how long before Thou come again?

Still in cellar, and in garret, and on moorland dreary The orphans moan, and widows weep, and poor men toil in vain, Till earth is full of hope deferred, though Christmas bells be cheery."

Then arose a joyous clamor from the wild fowl on the mere, Beneath the stars, across the snow, like clear bells ringing, And a voice within cried: "Listen!--Christmas carols even here!

Though thou be dumb, yet o'er their work the stars and snows are singing.

Blind! I live, I love, I reign; and all the nations through With the thunder of my judgments even now are ringing; Do thou fulfill thy work, but as yon wild fowl do, Thou wilt hear no less the wailing, yet hear through it angels singing."

--_Charles Kingsley_.