OUR Puritan fathers, stern and good,

Had never a holiday;

Sober and earnest seemed life to them—

They only stopped working to pray.

And the little Puritan maidens learned

Their catechisms through;

And spun their stents, and wove, themselves,

Their garments of homely blue.

And they never made merry on Christmas

Day—

That savored of Pope and Rome;

And there was never a Christmas-tree

In any Puritan home.

There never was woven a Christmas wreath,

Carols the children never sung,

And Christmas Eve, in the chimney-place,

There was never a stocking hung.

Sweet little Ruth, with her flaxen hair

All neatly braided and tied,

Was sitting one old December day

At her pretty mother's side.

She listened, speaking never a word,

With her serious, thoughtful look,

To the Christmas story her mother read

Out of the good old Book.

"I'll tell thee, Ruth!" her mother cried,

Herself scarce more than a girl,

As she smoothed her little daughter's hair,

Lest it straggle out into a curl,

"If thy stent be spun each day this week,

And thou toil like the busy bee,

A Christmas present on Christmas Day

I promise to give to thee."

And then she talked of those merry times

She never could quite forget;

The Christmas cheer, the holly and yule—

She was hardly a Puritan yet.

She talked of those dear old English days,

With tears in her loving eyes;

And little Ruth heard like a Puritan child,

With a quiet though glad surprise.

But nevertheless she thought of her gift,

As much as would any ot you;

And busily round, each day of the week,

Her little spinning-wheel flew.

Tired little Ruth! but oh, she thought

She was paid for it after all,

When her mother gave her on Christmas Day

A little Puritan doll.

'Twas made of a piece of a homespun sheet,

Dressed in a homespun gown

Cut just like Ruth's, and a little cap

With a stiff white muslin crown.

A primly folded muslin cape—

I don't think one of you all

Would have been so bold as to dare to play

With that dignified Puritan doll.

Dear little Ruth showed her delight

In her pretty, quiet way;

She sat on her stool in the great fire-place,

And held her doll all day.

And then (she always said "good-night"

When the shadows began to fall,

She was so happy she went to sleep

Still holding her Puritan doll.