Our Boys | Page 8

sweetness of all Christmas in her loving, trusting, innocent face.
"Yes," said all the Christmas Monks, "she is a miracle." And they all
laid their beautiful Christmas presents down before her.
Peter was so delighted he hardly knew himself; and, oh! the joy there
was when he led his little sister home on Christmas-day, and showed
all the wonderful presents.
The Christmas Monks always retained Peter in their employ--in fact he
is in their employ to this day. And his parents, and his little sister who

was entirely cured of her lameness, have never wanted for anything.
As for the Prince, the courtiers were never tired of discussing and
admiring his wonderful knowledge of physics which led to his
adjusting the weight of the hamper of Christmas presents to his own so
nicely that he could not fall. The Prince liked the talk and the
admiration well enough, but he could not help, also, being a little glum;
for he got no Christmas presents that year.
MARY E. WILKINS.

[Illustration]
TEDDY AND THE ECHO.
Teddy is out upon the lake; His oars a softened click-clack make; On
all that water bright and blue, His boat is the only one in view; So,
when he hears another oar Click-clack along the farthest shore,
"Heigh-ho," he cries, "out for a row! Echo is out! heigh-ho--heigh-ho!"
"Heigh-ho, heigh-ho!" Sounds from the distance, faint and low.
Then Teddy whistles that he may hear Her answering whistle, soft and
clear; Out of the greenwood, leafy, mute, Pipes her mimicking, silver
flute, And, though her mellow measures are Always behind him half a
bar, 'Tis sweet to hear her falter so; And Ted calls back, "Bravo,
bravo!" "Bravo, bravo!" Comes from the distance, faint and low.
She laughs at trifles loud and long; Splashes the water, sings a song;
Tells him everything she is told, Saucy or tender, rough or bold; One
might think from the merry noise That the quiet wood was full of boys,
Till Ted, grown tired, cries out, "Oh, no! 'Tis dinner time and I must
go!" "Must go? must go?" Sighs from the distance, sad and low.
When Ted and his clatter are away, Where does the little Echo stay?
Perched on a rock to watch for him? Or keeping a lookout from some
limb? If he were to push his boat to land, Would he find her footprint
on the sand? Or would she come to his blithe "hello," Red as a rose, or

white as snow? Ah no, ah no! Never can Teddy see Echo!
MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES.

SONG OF THE CHRISTMAS STOCKINGS.
Six merry stockings in the firelight, Hanging by the chimney snug and
tight: Jolly, jolly red, That belongs to Ted; Daintiest blue, That belongs
to Sue; Old brown fellow Hanging long, That belongs to Joe, Big and
strong; Little, wee, pink mite Covers Baby's toes-- Won't she pull it
open With funny little crows! Sober, dark gray, Quiet little mouse, That
belongs to Sybil Of all the house; One stocking left, Whose should it be?
Why, that I'm sure Must belong to me! Well, so they hang, packed to
the brim, Swing, swing, swing, in the firelight dim.
[Illustration]
'Twas the middle of the night. Open flew my eyes; I started up in bed,
And stared in surprise; I rubbed my eyes, I rubbed my ears, I saw the
stockings swing, I heard the stockings sing; Out in the firelight Merry
and bright, Snug and tight, Six were swinging, Six were singing, Like
everything! And the red, and the blue, and the brown, and the gray,
And the pink one, and mine, had it all their own way, And no one could
stop them--because, don't you see, Nobody heard 'em--but just poor
me!
"All day we carry toes, To-night we carry candy; Christmas comes
once a year Very nice and handy. Run, run, race all day, Mother mends
us after play, We don't care, life is gay, Sing and swing, away, away!
"Boots and little tired shoes, We kick 'em off in glee; It's fun to hang up
here And Santa Claus to see. Run, run, race all day, Mother mends us
after play, We don't care, life is gay, Sing and swing, away, away!
"To-morrow down we come, The sweet things tumble out, Then
carrying toes again We'll have to trot about. Run, run, race all day,
Mother'll mend us after play, We don't care, we'll swing so gay While

we can--away, away!"
MARGARET SIDNEY.

JOE LAMBERT'S FERRY.
It was a thoroughly disagreeable March morning. The wind blew in
sharp gusts from every quarter of the compass by turns. It seemed to
take especial delight in rushing suddenly around corners and taking
away the breath of anybody it could catch there coming from the