"Little Bennie."

A CHRISTMAS STORY.

I had told him, Christmas morning,
As he sat upon my knee,
Holding fast his little stockings,
Stuffed as full as full can be,
And attentive listening to me,

With a face demure and mild,
That old Santa Claus, who filled them,
Did not love a naughty child.

"But we'll be good, won't we, moder,"
And from off my lap he slid,
Digging deep among the goodies
In his crimson stockings hid.
While I turned me to my table,

Where a tempting goblet stood
Brimming high with dainty custard
Sent me by a neighbor good.

But the kitten, there before me,
With his white paw, nothing loth,

Sat, by way of entertainment,
Lapping off the shining froth;
And, in not the gentlest humor

At the loss of such a treat,

I confess I rather rudely

Thrust him out into the street.

Then how Bennie's blue eyes kindled; Gathering up the precious store

He had busily been pouring

In his tiny pinafore,

With a generous look that shamed me

Sprang he from the carpet bright,

Showing by his mien indignant,
All a baby's sense of right.

"Come back, Harney," called he loudly,

As he held his apron white,

"You shall have my candy wabbit,"

But the door was fastened tight,
So he stood abashed and silent,
In the center of the floor,
With defeated look alternate
Bent on me and on the door.

Then, as by some sudden impulse,
Quickly ran he to the fire,
And while eagerly his bright eyes

Watched the flames grow higher and higher,

In a brave, clear key, he shouted,

Like some lordly little elf,

"Santa Kaus, come down the chimney,

Make my Mudder 'have herself."

"I will be a good girl, Bennie,"
Said I, feeling the reproof;
And straightway recalled poor Harney,
Mewing on the gallery roof.
Soon the anger was forgotten,

Laughter chased away the frown,
And they gamboled 'neath the live oaks,
Till the dusky night came down.

In my dim, fire-lighted chamber,
Harney purred beneath my chair,
And my playworn boy beside me

Knelt to say his evening prayer; "God bess Fader, God bess Moder,

God bess Sister,” then a pause,
And the sweet young lips devoutly
Murmured, "God bess Santa Kaus."

He is sleeping; brown and silken
Lie the lashes, long and meek,
Like caressing, clinging shadows,
On his plump and peachy cheek,

And I bend above him, weeping
Thankful tears. O undefiled!
For a woman's crown of glory,

For the blessing of a child.

Annie Chambers Ketchum.

Lady Clare.

It was the time when lilies blow,
And the clouds are highest up in air,
Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe
To give his cousin, Lady Clare.

I trow they did not part in scorn;
Lovers long betrothed were they:
They two will wed the morrow morn;
God's blessing on the day!

"He does not love me for my birth,

Nor for my lands as broad and fair; He loves me for my own true worth, And that is well," said Lady Clare.

In there came old Alice, the nurse,

Said, "Who was this that went from thee?" "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare,

"To-morrow he weds with me."

"O God be thanked!" said Alice the nurse, "That all comes round so just and fair, Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands,

And you are not the Lady Clare."

"Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse? Said Lady Clare, “that ye speak so wild ?" "As God's above," said Alice the nurse, "I speak the truth; you are my child."

"The old earl's daughter died at my breast;
I speak the truth as I live by bread;
I buried her like my own sweet child,
And put my child in her stead."

"Falsely, falsely have ye done,

O mother," she said, "if this be true,
To keep the best man under the sun
So many years from his due."

"Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,
"But keep the secret for your life,
And all you have will be Lord Ronald's,
When you are man and wife."

"If I'm a beggar born," she said,
"I will speak out, for I dare not lie:
Pull off, pull off the brooch of gold,
And fling the diamond necklace by."

"Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse,
"But keep the secret all you can ;"
She said, "Not so; but I will know,
If there be any faith in man."

"Nay now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse, "But keep the secret all you can,"

She said, "Not so; but I will know,
If there be any faith in man."

"Nay now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse,
"The man will cleave unto his right."
"And he shall have it," the lady replied,
"Though I should die to-night."

“Yet give one kiss to your mother dear;
Alas, my child, I sinned for thee!
"O mother, mother, mother," she said,
So strange it seems to me."

"Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear,
My mother dear, if this be so;
And lay your hand upon my head,
And bless me, mother, ere I go."

She clad herself in a russet gown,
She was no longer Lady Clare,

She went by dale and she went by down,

The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought,
Leapt up from where she lay,
Dropt her head in the maiden's hand
And followed her all the way.

Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower,
"Lady Clare, you shame your worth,
Why come you drest like a village maid,
That are the flower of the earth?"

"If I come drest like a village maid,
I am but as my fortunes are;
I am a beggar born," she said,
"And not the Lady Clare.”

"Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald,
"For I am yours in word and deed;
Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald,
"Your riddle is hard to read."

Oh, and proudly stood she up;

Her heart within her did not fail:
She looked into Lord Ronald's eyes
And told him all her nurse's tale.

He laughed a laugh of merry scorn,

He turned and kissed her where she stood.

"If you are not the heiress born,

And I," said he, "the next of blood

"If you are not the heiress born,
And I," said he, "the lawful heir,
We two will wed to-morrow morn,
And you shall still be Lady Clare."

The Child on the Judgment Seat.

Where hast thou been toiling all day, sweetheart,
That thy brow is burdened and sad?

The Master's work may make weary feet,

But it leaves the spirit glad.

Tennyson