"Ah, Harold!" gently said his aunt,
"No matter where you go,
In country strewn with flowers like this,
Or clad in ice and snow,
The birthday of the Christ-child is
The same in every place,
And happy greetings in His name,
Bring smiles to every face."



A TROUBLESOME CALL.

We were going, on Saturday, ever so far,--
My mamma and I,--to the Dollies' Bazaar,
Where fifty wax dollies,--the loveliest show,
Went walking about when they wound 'em, you know.

You wouldn't believe half the things they could do:
Why, one said "Good morning," as plainly as you.
One played the piano, and one, dressed in lace,
Walked up to a mirror and powdered her face.

Well, when we were ready we stepped in the hall,
And there was a lady a-coming to call.
She said she just chanced to be passing that way,
And she really had only a minute to stay.

We waited and waited, and hoped she would go,