Christmas and "Little Christmas" or King's Day.

Christmas Eve had come and the children were at last asleep, dreaming of the pleasures in store for them on the morrow. Mrs. Allen and her sister sat by the fire completing a handsome smoking robe for Mr. Allen.

The clock struck twelve, in soft, silvery chimes as the robe was folded and tied on the tree.

Miss Lucy drew aside the curtain to look out upon the night. The snow had ceased falling, and now lay in feathery drifts on the silent village like a pure white veil, tracing graceful patterns among the dark trees on the hill-side, While the stars above had the brilliancy of extreme cold.

"Hark! What was that?" said Mrs. Allen. "Surely not our bell at midnight? Let us call Dick; I'm afraid to open the door."

Mr. Dick and Hetty came running down and turned on the electric light. To the astonishment of all, on the porch stood a young woman with an infant in her arms. Mrs. Allen brought her in, asking no questions, for the poor creature was speechless with cold. Lucy took the baby, it opened its eyes and smiled, seeming very comfortable. Hetty gave the woman a hot drink, and Mrs. Allen took off her wet shoes and clothing, and gave her a warm foot-bath, then she was wrapped in a blanket and made to lie down on the sofa before the fire. The poor soul was so exhausted she fell into a profound sleep.

The good people then began to realize what they were doing, to ask themselves how the woman could have selected their house for a shelter. "Oh, let us thank our Lord," said Mrs. Allen. "He has given us the privilege of harboring the harborless." "Mrs. Allen," remarked Hetty, "dis is just like dat verse you done teached Miss Amy: 'To shelter de Holy wanderers on dat blessed Christmas night.' Don't you know, at fust, I thought it was the Holy Virgin and little Jesus. Well, I say it's for luck dat baby's come to dis house."

"Lucy," said Mrs. Allen, "you had better go to bed; that you may be able to get up in the morning to take the children to Mass. It is absolutely necessary one of us should remain home to care for our unexpected guests."

At five o'clock in the morning, Pat came into the kitchen to say the sleigh was ready if the folks were going to early Mass. "Turn your back and shut you' eyes," called out Hetty. Pat, supposing she had a Christmas gift for him, did as he was bid.

"Is you' eyes tight shut, Pat?" "Faith and they couldn't be tighter, but hurry up, the folks'll be wantin' the sleigh in a minute." Hetty took the sleeping babe and laid it in the old man's arms, then told him to look. Pat stared in utter surprise, his eyes and mouth wide open. Hetty stood laughing at his discomfiture, when he could speak, he exclaimed: "Holy saints! where did this come from?"

"De Christ-child sent it twelve o'clock last night." "May the Lord bless us," said Pat, "but it's a quare thing entirely yees are telling me. Here, take the darlint; I must be gettin' off or we'll be late for Mass."

Mrs. Allen called the children before five o'clock, bidding them hurry downstairs, as she had a surprise for them. Hetty carried the babe into the library and laid it on the table under the electric light, its eyes were open, but it lay perfectly still.

As the children caught sight of the little figure they were transfixed with astonishment. Amy made the sign of the cross; for the moment she thought only of the Infant Jesus, then examining closer, she saw it was a real live baby. "Of course," said she, "I might have known the Infant Jesus would not come to us, we are not holy enough." Bolax kissed the little thing, saying "Isn't it a dear! Mamma, are you going to keep it?"

"Come, now," called Aunt Lucy, "we must not be late for Mass; when we get home we will hear all about the wonderful baby." On the way to church, Aunty explained how it came that the poor mother was in the house, and no doubt would be able to tell why she sought shelter under their roof.

"Well," exclaimed Pat, "may God bless yees all for the most warm-hearted family I ever met. None of yees will ever be in want of a roof to cover you, for surely the dear Infant Jesus will not forget your many great acts of Charity."

At seven o'clock Hetty took some breakfast up to the woman, and brought her baby to be nursed. She seemed greatly refreshed and said she was able to get up. "Don't you stir, honey," said Hetty, "unless you is real able, if you is, Mrs. Allen wants to see you in de library." Having dressed herself and attended to her baby's wants, Hetty took her downstairs.

Mrs. Allen asked the woman's name and questioned as to the reason for selecting this house in which to take refuge.

"Indeed, ma'am, I'll tell you how it was, but first let me thank you; sure it's no wonder the station-man spoke so highly of your charity." "Say nothing about that; I only wish I had it in my power to do more." "Well," continued the woman, "my name is Mary Ryan. My husband was killed a month ago; he fell off a scaffolding while painting a house. I stayed with his people after his death, but they soon let me see I wasn't welcome, so I went to an intelligence office to look for a place. The man made me pay him a dollar, then he gave me the address of a Mrs. Clarkson out here near the station. He said they especially wanted a woman with a child because such are willing to stay in the country.

"I paid my fare out and got here at three o'clock, it was daylight then, and I hunted high and low for Mrs. Clarkson, but no one had ever heard of such a person. I didn't know where to go, so I remained in the station as it was snowing hard. The watchman was so kind. He gave me a sandwich and asked me if I had nowhere to stop for the night. I told him just how it was with me. He said: 'A friend of mine just happens to be outside with his sleigh and I'll tell him to take you where you'll be well treated.'

"I didn't know but what it was a lodging house he was taking me to; when he came to your gate he just put me on the boardwalk and told me to go up to the door."

"Well, Mary, you are welcome, poor child; we will do what we can for you. Have you a valise?" "Yes, ma'am; the man at the station has care of it." "I will send our man for it as soon as the sleigh comes back." "Oh, God bless you ma'am!" "Don't say any more, dear; your name is Mary; you and your child were in need of shelter, like the divine Mother Mary. I consider it a privilege to be allowed to share the comforts our Lord has given me with any one in need."

"Go to Hetty now, she will take care of you. I know of just a place that will suit you, and in a few days when the roads are somewhat better, I will take you there."

In the excitement about the baby, the children forgot to look at their presents early in the day, but after Mass all were eager to see what old Santa had brought them. Amy received several gifts she had been longing for. Bolax got what he prized more than anything, viz:—a whole set of Father Finn's books.

The Christmas dinner was indeed a mirthful one. All the love gifts, as Mrs. Allen called those that were made expressly for each member of the family, had been placed on the tree behind the ornaments. Mr. Allen entered into the spirit of the evening, saying he would act the wizard's part, and by means of long wand detached the various treasures from the tree and gave them to their owners, whose names they bore.

Great was the delight of the children, when after a hard tussle to detach a large bundle, down it came on Mr. Allen's head. It proved to be a beautiful smoking robe, which had been made and embroidered by Mrs. Allen, Lucy and little Amy.

The good man was so charmed that he declared he would not use his wand again until he had full five minutes to admire it. Amy received a lovely pair of bed-room slippers, the work of Aunt Lucy; Mrs. Allen, a sofa cushion made by her sister in New York; Aunt Lucy, a blue silk waist, embroidered in white roses. Uncle Dick, a smoking cap, made by Mrs. Allen; Bolax, a pair of silk and woolen mitts, knit by Aunt Lucy. Bo gave Hetty a work box, which he made with his tools, and Amy, a needlebook, on which she had embroidered, "Hetty, dear." Pat too, received a little "love gift," but both faithful domestics had had a substantial present from the "Master."

Mr. Allen put on his robe and cap to please the children, strutting up and down the library floor, saying he was sure he resembled a Chinese Mandarin in his gorgeous robe. Now let us end the day with some of your spirited Yule-tide airs: "Strike the Harp" and "With Glory Lit the Midnight Air." Every one sang with hearty good will to the accompaniment of piano and violin.

That night when the family sought their pillows, all felt that they had passed a very happy and holy Christmas.

January Sixth.

Bolax ran into the library covered with snow, his two dogs with him making a pretty mess on the rugs. Mamma called out: "Look at the condition of your boots, child." Hetty happened to be on hand with the broom. "Dat's easy cleaned up," said she. "Bo don't think sometimes, but his heart is in de right place after all," which "after all" was known to refer to a spirit of fun and a tendency to mischief such as most lively boys possess.

"Does anyone remember that tomorrow is my birthday?" exclaimed Bolax. "Whew," echoed Uncle Dick, "is that a fact? What will be the number of your years tomorrow?" "Eleven. Hetty has made me a splendid cake, but I'm not to have a party because Papa is not well." "Oh, but you're going to have your chums," observed Amy. "Yes, our jolly seven will be here, and Hetty says that enormous cake must be eaten at one sitting." "You have made a mistake, brother, that very large cake is for the crippled children in St. Luke's Hospital; there are eighteen of them in the ward and we are to take it there ourselves and divide it." "That's so, I had almost forgotten about the poor children. We had better go there early in the morning and have the afternoon for our company."

"Children," said Uncle Dick, "Would you like to hear the story of the first time a cake was cut on King's Day?" "Yes, yes, let us have it please," exclaimed both at once.

Uncle Dick's Story.

The three Wise men, Balthazar, Melchior and Gaspard, were kings, living in countries widely separated; yet each one saw a wonderful brilliant star, such as had never before appeared, and a heavenly messenger told them to follow this star, that it would lead them to a new-born king, who was to be greater than all the rulers of the earth. So the wise men or Magi set out bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, which they were to give to the wonderful child, whose star they had seen in the "East."

They had traveled such a long time and were tired sitting on their camels, so they came to a halt near a dense forest. It had been raining for several hours and now the sound of distant thunder and the fury of the wind warned them to seek shelter for the night. Their followers took refuge in a cave and refused to go a step further; so the kings were compelled to continue their journey alone. After walking for a long time almost famished with cold and wet to the skin, they came to a little village and determined to ask hospitality at the first house they saw. This house, or I should say hut, was situated at the entrance of the forest, and belonged to a poor woodcutter named Japhet.

The kings knocked very loudly, Japhet and his wife opened the door, wondering who could want them at such a late hour. Our distinguished travelers begged a shelter from the storm and some food. The woodcutter was startled when he saw such grand people, and hesitated about letting them into his cabin, big Melchior, however, settled the question by pushing back the door, then all entered.

"Now," said Gaspard, "do give us some supper and a place to rest, we will pay well." "Alas! honored, Sirs," answered Japhet. "I have but one bed, and as for supper, we have nothing to offer but black bread and water. But, we will do the best we can to make you comfortable for the night."

So the tired out kings sat down and were glad enough to eat of the black bread, and satisfy their thirst with water. Japhet then made a big fire and the kings having dried their clothes, laid themselves upon the clean straw bed, which the good wife had made for them.

When morning light shone through the chinks of the cabin wall, the kings arose and prepared to continue their journey. Balthazar, who was the most generous, said: "My good people I want to give you something in return for your hospitality." "Oh, never mind," said Japhet. "The little we had, we gave with a good heart, but we did not expect anything in return." At the same time the poor fellow held out his hand.

"I have no money," explained Balthazar, "but I will leave you a souvenir, which will be of infinitely more value." Saying this, he searched in his pocket, drew out a little flute, and presented it to Japhet, who received it with a look of disappointment on his face.

"You see," continued Balthazar, "if you make a wish while playing a tune, it will be immediately granted. Take the flute; do not abuse its gifts, and above all never refuse a shelter or food to the poor wayfarer."

As soon as the three kings had left the hut, Japhet said to his wife: "Well, it seems to me, such rich-looking people could have given us something better than a toy, nevertheless I will try its power; should not wonder though, if those fine gentlemen were not mocking us when they gave such a fool's present."

"Oh, try it just once," said his wife. Japhet then played a lively tune, at the same time wishing for a venison steak and some white bread. Great was the astonishment and delight of the poor people when they saw on their table all they had asked for.

When Japhet was certain of the power of the flute he did not stop at necessities, as you may well believe, he asked for all sorts of things; indeed he kept the flute going from morning until night.

He got new clothes for himself and his wife; had the best of food to eat, and, as all he had to do was to wish for a thing to have it, he became the richest man in the country. He fluted for a magnificent palace, which took the place of his poor cabin; again he fluted and the palace was filled with fine furniture, pictures, statuary and luxuries of all descriptions.

When everything was complete he gave a grand dinner, inviting all the rich people of the neighborhood. Every invitation was accepted, for no one remembered the poor woodcutter, who was now the mighty Lord Flutandget.

In the dining hall the table was set with the finest service of gold, and cut glass reflected the light from hundreds of perfumed lamps. A band of musicians sat behind a bower of exquisite flowers, playing soft, sweet tunes.

When all was ready, the guests sat down to a feast, the like of which had never been seen in the whole Kingdom. Lord Flutandget was in the height of his glory, and looked as proud as if he owned the whole world.

His wife sat beside him, feeling very ill at ease in her stiff silk, and scarcely able to move her hands for the rings, with which her fingers were laden.

So that the feast should not be disturbed, the lackeys had been ordered to keep all intruders off the place. Besides this, my Lord Flutandget had two fierce dogs chained on either side of the gate to keep off beggars.

The guests and their host gave themselves up to the full enjoyment of the feast. All were loud in their praises of My Lord and his Lady, complimenting them on their lavish entertainment, wishing them long continuance of health, prosperity, etc.

Well, this very evening the three Kings happened to be returning to their own country, after having paid homage to the Infant Christ. When they came near the village by the forest, they saw a splendid castle where formerly stood the woodcutter's hut.

"Ah, ha!" said Gaspard to Balthazar, "I should not be surprised if our old friend has not made bad use of your little flute. I wonder if he has kept his promise, and is kind to the poor, now that he is so rich."

"Well, let us try him," said Balthazar. So disguising themselves as beggars, they went to the gate of the castle, asking for a little food. The porter bade them "begone," but as they insisted on being allowed to enter, the servants made such a clamor, that Lord Flutandget put his head out of the window to see what was the trouble. Seeing the beggars, he ordered the dogs to be set on them, so the poor Kings were obliged to fly in a very unkingly manner.

"I told you so," said Gaspard, whom one of the dogs had caught by the shins. "I'll fix him," said the giant, Melchior. "I'll make him feel the vengeance of the three Kings."

In the meantime the guests continued to feast. Dessert had just been served; my Lord Flutandget held in his hand a broad silver knife, with which he was about to cut an enormous cake, each guest was to have had a slice to take home. Just then the noise of carriage wheels was heard; my Lord Flutandget looked towards the window, and seeing a grand carriage drawn by six white horses, he supposed it was some of the high and mighty guests he had invited, so he went himself to meet them.

The three Kings entered in regal attire, crowns on their heads and clothed in purple and precious stones. Flutandget recognized his guests of the hut, but put on a bold front and begged them to take a seat at his table.

"Thank you," said Balthazar, coldly. "We cannot eat with a man who oppresses the poor and sets the dogs on them." "I compliment you on the way you keep your promise," said Melchior, the Giant King, and his voice sounded deep and severe.

"Ah, you set your dogs on beggars," said Gaspard, who still felt an ache in his shins. "You often play on your flute, I see. Oh, wait a while; I'll give you a tune that you have not yet heard," and taking from his pocket a little flute, just like the one that had been given to Japhet, he blew a terrible blast which caused all the glasses on the table to split. Again he put the flute to his lips, all the lights went out and the guests rushed from the castle, trampling over each other in their haste to get away. At the third sound of the flute, the palace disappeared, and the woodcutter found himself alone sitting on the ruins of his hut, he and his wife clothed in rags.

"Oh, what shall we do?" said the poor woman.

"Never mind," said Japhet, "I still have the flute." But search as he would, the talisman could not be found; it had disappeared with the three Kings.

Ever since this happened, it is customary to have a large cake on "King's Day," January 6. It is filled with small silver coins and a slice is given to visitors, or to any poor person who comes to ask an alms.

"I like that story," said Amy, "although it is not in the Bible."

"Well, dear, you may imagine the Kings met with many adventures on their long journey, and the occurrences I relate might have happened as likely as those we read of in 'Ben Hur.' Stories of this kind can do no possible harm, and after reading them, children's curiosity is excited, they want to know more, so they become interested in Bible history."

This reminds me of a visit I paid to a lawyer in Chicago, and what happened to him for his lack of knowledge of Bible stories.

A friend of mine, who is a very successful lawyer, in the course of conversation one day, declared he believed the time had come when lawyers should know a few things besides law. The Bible, for instance.

"That is a very worthy thought," said I.

"I don't claim to be any better or worse than the next person," went on the lawyer, "but I believe a good knowledge of the Scriptures would benefit a man of my calling professionally."

"And spiritually," I suggested.

"I dare say it would. I had a case in one of those downtown justice shops. It went to a jury trial, and the bailiff hauled in half a dozen of those professional hoboes, that are always hanging around such places, on the chance of making a couple of dollars by sitting on a jury."

"I put up two witnesses to prove my case, and one repeated and corroborated the evidence of the other in every particular. The lawyers on the other side argued that this exact agreement of my witnesses at every point made their testimony unreliable. He said no two men could possibly give the same account of what they had seen, not even men of sound and undoubted rectitude. He said that even the Bible proved this, and then he told the story of Jonah and the whale."

"How did Jonah come into the case?" I asked.

"Just this way, my opponent said the Bible contained two versions of the story, one by St. Matthew, and the other by St. Mark. St. Matthew's account was that Jonah made the entire voyage inside the whale, while St. Mark declared that Jonah came out occasionally and sat on the whale's back to get a breath of fresh air."

"Dear me," said the presiding judge. "That version of the voyage of Jonah sounds strange to me. I suppose you can give chapter and verse for it. If you can, I wish you would."

"He can do no such thing, your Honor," said I. "There is no account in the Bible that tells of Jonah riding on the whale's back."

My opponent glanced from one to the other of us contemptuously, and then looked significantly at the jury.

"Gentlemen of the jury," he said solemnly. "I am not addressing my remarks to this Honorable Court, nor to the learned gentleman on the opposite side of this case, whose lamentable ignorance regarding one of the most familiar Scriptural narrations, I sincerely deplore."

"In drawing a parallel between the suspiciously coinciding character of the evidence here given by two witnesses, who apparently have compared notes with extreme care, and the discrepancies shown in the statements of two great inspired writers, I am directing my remarks to intelligent, upright men, who study their Bibles, and who have the great truths of Scripture at their finger ends."

"You should have seen how that bench of hoboes nodded complacently as that audacious lawyer insulted the Court and me. The upshot of the whole business was that I lost my case, and all through not knowing what St. Matthew and St. Mark wrote about Jonah."

I could scarcely keep from laughing while my friend was telling the story, but at this point, I broke out in a prolonged fit of merriment.

"What amuses you so much?" said my friend.

When I could control myself sufficiently to speak, I told him neither St. Matthew nor St. Mark ever wrote that story. It was written thousands of years before they were born. Jonah and the whale story belongs to the Old Testament.

"You don't say! Well, I'll be switched!" exclaimed my friend. "My only consolation," continued he, "is that the Judge didn't know any more than I did."

"That's a good story, Uncle Dick, but if your lawyer had a mother like mine when he was a boy, he never would have made such a ridiculous mistake about Jonah."

"Come, children," called Aunt Lucy, "it's past bed time."

"Good-night, Uncle. Good-night Grandpa Mischief."