Saint Nick

Saint Nick.

By M. N. B.

(For the youngest pupil to recite.)

When cold the winds blow,

And comes the white snow,

Then look out for good Saint Nick.

He comes in a sleigh

From miles, miles away,

And vanishes very quick.

Christmas Questions

Christmas Questions.

By Wolstan Dtxey.

(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

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.

Merry, Merry Christmas

Merry, Merry Christmas.

By Carine L. Rose

(Over the platform against the wall hang the words " Merry, Merry Christmas." They may be simply made of dark-colored pasteboard twelve inches high, or the cardboard may be covered with red berries and evergreen. The five children who recite in turn point to the words whenever they speak them.)

First child: Oh! " merry, merry Christmas,"

Blithely let us sing,

And " merry, merry Christmas,"

Let the church-bells ring.

Lo ! the little stranger,

Smiling in the manger

Is the King of Kings.

Second child: Oh! "merry, merry Christmas,"

Weave in fragrant green,

And " merry, merry Christmas,"

In holly-berries' sheen.

Opened heaven's portals,

That by favored mortals

Angels might be seen.

Third child: Oh! "merry, merry Christmas,"

Carol bright and gay,

For " merry, merry Christmas "

Is the Children's day ;

Morning stars revealing

Shepherds humbly kneeling

Where the Christ child lay.

Fourth child: Oh! " merry, merry Christmas,"

Day of sacred mirth ;

Oh! merry, merry Christmas,"

Sing the Saviour's birth.

Christ, the high and holy,

Once so meek and lowly,

Came from heaven to earth.

Fifth child: Oh! "merry, merry Christmas,"

Shout the happy sound,

Till " merry, merry Christmas,"

Spreads the world around ;

Wonderful the story,

Unto God may glory

Evermore abound.

A Christmas Gift

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 assembled 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!"