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sight of the tree, bright with blazing tapers, and , house! She has got a party, and only see how gay with oranges, and painted eggs, besides toys light it is ! Mother! mother! come and look! of every kind and description that the ingenuity What is that all on fire, with so many things of man could devise or his money buy. It was hanging on it?” like a bit of Regent Street brought into the The inother put down her balls of worstedback parlour, there was such a variety of the she knit all manner of bright scarfs and hoods, pretty things which had for days and weeks caps and shawls, for sale-and came to the beckoned to the children from the shop win-window. dows, and drawn the money from the purses of “They are having a Christmas party at the big papas and mammas, aunties and uncles, whether house, and that is surely a Christmas-tree to they would or no.

hang the children's presents on.” There were quantities for everybody. Each “Oh, mother, why can't we have a Christmaslittle girl had more than she could hold, and tree? I've got lots of things to hang on it-my the boys had every pocket and both hands full. new shoes, you know, and the bright penny the Balls and books, bright coloured-tops and gay gentleman gave me that came to get his boots baskets and little Red-riding-hoods, puzzles and tapped. Then there's the tin cup I had when I pictures, wire bows and arrows, china dolls, was a baby, and my primer, you know, mother," Índia-rubber dolls, paper dolls, large and small said the boy, eagerly. with dresses enough to set up the Empress “Well, Sammy dear, I'll see what I can do Eugenie, and enough baby-house furniture to about it to-morrow night-that will be Christmas furnish all the baby-houses in a town like evening instead of Christmas eve.

The ladies at this. These things were not a tithe of the the Hall always had a Christmas-tree for the whole.

children of the parish, when I was at home in And yet Gertrude pouted and threw up her Kent, and I'd like to see something like it once shoulders, saying—"Pooh! this is nothing. I more for the sake of old times." wouldn't have come if I had known everything The cobbler's wife sighed as she spoke, not would be so common. It is the homeliest tree because she was homesick, for she and her I ever saw. My grandpapa in the country has family were much more comfortable than before a million prettier ones in his woods."

they left the country, and she did not wish to While she was talking, Uncle Walter took return, but the thought of it brought a yearning from the tree a scarlet covered book with gilt remembrance to her mind for a moment of the edges, filled with beautifully tinted pictures, old home and the old friends. She soon, and opening it read." Gertrude S. Halling." however, forgot it, and went back to winding

The little girl condescended to go and get it, her yarn as contented as ever, and Sammy, well but she came back to her place with a very satisfied with her half-promise, shook the thistleugly frown on her face.

down from his eyes, and turned again to the I hate books more than I hate anything. window with fresh delight. Horrid old thing, I won't touch or look at it." Just then Gertrude parted the curtains a

“ That is too bad; I am real sorry, Gerty. little, and scated herself in the deep windowWould you rather have my dissected picture? seat to eat a saucer of blanc-mange. Then Santa Claus won't care if we exchange,” said Sammy could see very plainly the tree which Annie goodnaturedly.

had nothing left on it, only the lighted tapers, But Gertrude would not be coaxed out of the oranges and coloured egg-shells. But that her ill-humour.

was more splendid than anything the cobbler's “No, I don't wish to exchange; I hate boy had ever seen, and he thought it quite dissected pictures worse than I do books ; delightful. Little Gertrude, too, sitting between they are only meant for babies, and I'm not a the white curtains, where she and her hand. baby,” said she crosser than ever.

somely embroidered blue dress showed so While Gertrnde was thus making everybody plainly before the brightness of the dazzling uncomfortable who came near her, just as a gaslight, looked very charming, for Sammy rosethorn in your finger makes a pain whenever could not see the pout, which quite spoiled her it is touched, baby Minnie's golden head was pretty lip, nor hear her say peevishly—" I don't darting about like a flash of sunlight. Nobody like blanc-mange at all. Sophy has a cluster of but Gertrude, who was in no mood to be pleased frosted raisins, and I don't see why my mamma with anything, could help enjoying the little won't give me some !" creature's delight, and laughing with her over The children's party was over early, and in every new treasure that came into her chubby spite of all the gifts upon the Christmas-tree dimpled hand.

Santa Claus found sometbing more for every And now it was the turn of the cobbler's boy little stocking that night. He even found his to peep at his neighbour. The back parlour way with a ball aud a pair of mittens into the was under Annie's room, so he could look down cobbler's attic. very well through the lace curtains of the long The next dav little Annie went to cousin low windows, and see indistinctly the moving Agatha's to Christmas dinner, where of course figures of the children, the gleam of the gilded they had turkey and plum-pudding, and, what mirrors and picture-frames, and even the was very curious, the turkey had so many wishbrilliant Christmas-tree itself.

bones that every child got one upon her plate. "Oh, mother ! just look over at the little girl's Annie came hoine before evening, and going


to her room just after the lamps were lighted, / gate into her own back yard, and so home with her hat and cape, saw, as she did on the again. other night, through the window into the attic But she should have seen the pleasure she window directly opposite.

left behind her in the attic. Sammy was fairly "Oh, my cobbler! I forgot all about him," speechless at first, but he soon recovered his said she, running to the window.

voice, The cobbler's wife had been very busy the " It was the little girl in the big house, previous day, but had found time just at dusk mother, I have seen her playing with our cat in to go out with a package of finished scarfs and the back-yard, and with her doll, sometimes. another of shoes, to take to the shops for which And just look at what she brought me! It is she worked.

a nice present, isn't it, father? A book full of “And I think you may spare a few peonies to pictures, and some verses on every page. dress the boy's Christmas-tree,” said the lame Oh, little Annie, not all the fruit of your cobbler, as she tied on her bonnet.

Christmas-tree gave half the delight of this one His wife nodded and Sammy fairly squealed | offering from your generous heart! Little Red with joy, making his nose perfectly fiat against Riding-Hood went on to Sammy's Christmasthe window, as he looked out to catch the first tree, crowning it with its scarlet splendour for a glimpse of her in the court below on her return. moment; but he could not spare it from his

On this eveniug she had just come in and hands long; and besides, it might get burnt bad lighted the lamp as Annie looked from her or greased from the bits of lighted candle; so window, and as soon as she had put away her he looked the pictures over and over again, and bonnet and shawl, she screwed her yarn- spelled out the story till bed-time was quite past, winder on to the edge of the table, thus then putting it under his pillow, went to sleep, making a Christmas-tree.

the very happiest boy in Christendom. Sammy looked on open-mouthed and eager, and Annie, seeing something curious was about to happen, looked on also.

First of all, the cobbler's wife took a tallow candle from a wrapping of brown paper, and THE SNOW-BIRDS-A FABLE. cutting it into small pieces, with a little wick left at the end for lighting, she hung them by threads to the winder, then proceeded to farther. adorn this original tree with one red apple, a few Pell the fairy snow-flakes glittering oranges, a jumping-jack, a penny book, a slate

To the ground, and pencil, and a sprig of evergreen she had Came the little snow-birds twittering picked up in the street.

All around, At each addition Sammy jumped up and

While a litile maiden, down clapping his hands and shouting till I

With a dinner-basket on her arm well laden,

And each fold don't know what the people in the tenement below could have thought was happening over

Of her mantle drawn about her tightly,

Whispered to herself while smiling brightly their heads. Annie, however, understood it all,

66 I'm not cold." and she joined heartily in the pleasure she could see so plainly.

Lay a little robin red-breast lowly Oh, mamma, please come here. My cobbler's

With torn wing, boy is dressing a Christmas-tree! Do just look

Came his breath up feebly, slowly, over,” cried she, as she heard her mother coming

While shivering up the stairs. That is his Christmas-tree Drooped his head, and I saw everything hung on it my own self. When a little chirping snow-bird said, Isn't it funny? And mayn't I take him over

Loud and bold, one of my presents, mother?-I had such a “Stir about, friend Robin, stir about !" number, you know, and I am sure Nora will go

But the robin answered feebly to his shout, with me.”

“I am cold !" Her mother was very willing, so Annie ran directly to select one from ber store.

Then the little snow-bird chirped again, “I think I will take my Red-Riding-Hood

Chirped with glee, book ; that is my prettiest present, and he ought

All about the waitened plain

Chippered he ; to have something very nice, you know, if he

And, with shout, has but one," said she.

To the other snow-birds all about, In a few minutes Annie stood with Nora at

Quickly told the door of the cobbler's attic. Nora knocked, That a little robin red-breast, lying and Sammy opened it.

Down among the snow, was sadly sighing “Here is something Santa Claus sent you,"

“ I am cold." said Annie "and I wish you a merry Christmas."

Then she turned away quickly, and ran down Came a troop of snow-birds, swiftly flying the narrow stairs, which were full of crooks

O'er the plain, and turns, and broad landings, across the court, Close where little robin red was lying then into the archway and through the little

In his pain;

And the bread,
To the famished, freezing robin red

They quickly doled;
Then most blithely warbled they, and flut-

For no longer little red-breast muttered

I am cold,"

Gathering round
They uttered many a curious sound

Like birds of old.
Round and round the wounded bird they

While lowly to himself he muttered

" i am cold !"
“ Cold ?" chirped they ; then each bird flew

To the glade,
Where erst the tall grass freshly grew

In the shade :
A wisp of hay
One gathered in its onward way,

And one rolled
A little leaf up in its tiny bill,
While, all alone the robin murmured still

I am cold."
Back they hied, each little beak well laden,

From the dell
To the robin red-breast, while the maiden

Watched them well,
And all over
The poor bird thoy spread a leafy cover,

Fold by fold.
Chirping kindly 'mid their busy care;
While the robin murmured, lying there,

“I am cold.”
The maiden then from 'neath her basket cover

Her dinner drew,
All the snow-birds, vieing with each other,

Round her flew,

Still with little dimpled face uplifted,

Fresh and fair,
While the feathery falling snow had drifted

In her hair,
Stood the little maiden,
With her dinner-basket lightly laden,

And each fold
Of her mantle drawn around her tightly,
Whispering to herself, while smiling brightly,

I'm not cold.”

Close beside her mother's knee that even,

A little maid,
Kneeling with moist eye upturned to Heaven,

Softly prayed-
“ Make me, Holy Father, kind, I pray,
As the little snow-birds were to-day,

And enfold
All thy children 'neath thy sheltering wing,
That not one may sigh in suffering,

I am cold.""

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“ Please to remember the 5th of November" | ference to the 5th of November commemoraas much, or as little, as ever you please; but let tion we may state that a friend of ours, not a all Guys, crackers, and bonfires be put down by hundred miles from Lewisham, had his plateAct of Parliament. When there are so many basket walked off with, advantage having been Guys in real flesh and blood to be seen in our taken by the light-fingered gentry during the streets every day of the year we would, at least, pyrotechnic display. The victim will, we feel abolish all make-believe ones, thoroughly co- certain, sympathise with Mrs. Brown, and have inciding with the remark of Mrs. Brown, that cause to remember the last sixth of November “Why other parties should be set in flames for some time to come. To quote again from every year in remembrance of him I can't think, Mrs. Brown, the weather has been "mild for as was a good-for-nothing wagabone as the November, though it's not a month as I cares sooner he's forgot the better.” For ourselves we to take cold in; for it lays hold on you with a would be content with just so many crackers as cough as I've know'd last till May, as horeare necessary to promote the mirth at a Christ, hound won't pacify nor squills allay, as is only mas supper-party; bonfires should be permitted things as upsets the stomach and makes one only insomuch as they are useful for the de- feel frequent nauseous." Up to the present time struction of “ill weeds" (not Guy Fawkes'). we have been comparatively free from November Selfishly speaking, we do not care to be invited fogs, and we are thus far carried comfortably on to go out on a damp night, when suffering from to Christmas, the weather being much too mild, the cold we invariably have in November for the for which we are afraid we shall suffer by-andsake of amusing a few young people who might bye. be made just as happy with charades, Christmas- The Lord Mayor's Show is another oldtrees, forfeits, and Pharaoh's serpents. Al- fashioned November custom that we could well though the fumes inhaled from half-a-dozen of dispense with in these days of enlightenment the latter are sufficiently noxious to poison an and progress. We should like to see the entire family, no Christmas party will be perfect rumbling old coach broken up. The absence of without them--see advertisements. With re- the men in armour is a step in the right direction. Here again we quite “hold with" quaint club-room at St. John's Gate, ClerkenMrs. Brown's opinion, that "it's a downright well (the very room in which Dr. Johnson dined nuisance" and "did ought to be put down." behind a screen because he was too shabby to

As it is our daily lot to ride in Cheapside we associate with the guests of Cave, the bookmay give it as our opinion that the block in that seller). It was an unusually brilliant evening. thoroughfare is becoming everyday more serious; The chair was occupied by the veteran songthe opening of Cannon-street appears to have in writer, Mr. J. E. Carpenter, and the vice-chair no way relieved the traffic. Will the Thames admirably filled by Mr. William Sawyer. Both embankment do more? Time will show. We these gentlemen made telling and pointed also question the judgment of experimentalizing speeches during the evening, and amongst others with iron pavement in the very heart of the who also contributed to the intellectual treat City.

were Dr. Westland Marston, Messrs. Tomlins, The abolition of tolls near London has al- Oxenford, Henry Marston, Friswell, Barnett, ready had the effect of reducing the fares of the &c., &c. We were especially amused by the omnibuses. We are informed that a proprietor quaint way in which Mr. James Bruton gave on a small scale has effected a saving of £4 the toast of " Music," and also with Mr. George a-week; but as his fly-advertisement appeared Cruikshank (who looks not a day older than on both sides of Camberwell toll-gate, he does when we first knew him), who returned thanks not consider himself so very much a gainer by for “The Volunteers,” and informed his hearers its removal. It has been lately stated that a that he had been a volunteer before the battle of proprietor of omnibuses on the Clapham-road | Waterloo. saves a thousand a-year by the abolition of Mr. Gambart's collection, at the French GalKennington-gate. It will be a great advantage, lery, is a very pleasing one. There are just on the Derby day, to be enabled to go right enough pictures to see without being weary, or through without stoppages, and many accidents running the risk of having that most wretched will be avoided.

of all sight-seers' complaints, the “exhibition Public attention has again been called to the headache.” We very much admire the“ dinner dark Adelphi arches, owing to the discovery screen,” in six compartments, painted by Messrs. of a man's body in those gloomy purlieus. Marks, Story, Wynfidd, &c., &c.—a band of Whether the man was murdered or not the jury young painters known in artistic circles as the could not decide. It is to be hoped that the St. John's Wood clique. Not only do we adparish will at last perform its duty, and no mire it as a work of art, but also as a pleasing longer allow that haunt of abomination, which instance of such camaraderie existing amongst is a reproach to the neighbourhood, to be kept the painters of the present day. Especially open as a common thoroughfare.

good is Mr. Smallfield's “Outside the Convent." We observe that £31,000 has been subscribed We have seldom seen the dreamy tenderness to the Alliance fifty thousand pounds guarantee of twilight more successfully conveyed. Very fund, now being raised for the purpose of pro- charming, too, are the contributions by Messrs. hibiting the sale of intoxicating liquors as com- Calderon and J. D. Watson, and the pictures mon beverages. There can be no doubt that by Messrs. Sandys and Elmore are "joys for the existence of gin palaces, which are the ever.” Altogether, this little gallery of good nightly haunts of the lowest of the low, is one pictures, softly carpeted floors, and yielding of the abuses of our large towns. Gin palaces ! seats is one of the pleasantest lounges at the They are literally crystal palaces, with their present season in London. Whilst on the subchandeliers and glass in all directions; but with ject of art, we may refer to the retirement from this wide difference, that whilst Paxton's palace business of Mr. Flatou, the well-known pictureis an incentive to the industry and sobriety of dealer. the working-classes, these gin-shops become At this present season, when we are flooded the scenes of riot and the hot-bed of crime. with the vapid yearnings of would-be poets, who We are tempted to quote the following, from extract all their contributions out of the magaone of Dickens's early sketches, as worthy of at- zines for the last five years, and have them tention now that the subject is being ventilated : re-issued with all the glory that finely-toned “Gin drinking is a great vice in England, but paper, exquisite typography, and gorgeous bindwretchedness and dirt are a greater; and until ing can bestow on these emanations from the you improve the homes of the poor, or persuade Tennyson-and-water or diluted Browning school, a half-famished wretch not to seek relief in the it is especially pleasant to meet with an original temporary oblivion of his own misery, with the poem-doubly so when coming from the pen of pittance which, divided among his family, would so tender and polished a poet as Mr. J. Crawfurnish a morsel of bread for each, gin-shops ford Wilson. In the volume just published will increase in number and splendour. If there are two poems--the first entitled " Lost Temperance Societies would suggest an antidote and Found, a Pastoral ;” and the second, against hunger, filth, and foul air, or could “ Home.” In the first we are struck by the establish dispensaries for the gratuitous dis- deep knowledge of buman nature, the paintertribution of bottles of Lethe-water, gin-palaces like love of rural scenes and rural life which would be numbered among the things that were." are described in a manner so artistic that we

On Friday the 17th November the annual have quite a series of lovely country-pictures supper of the Urban Club took place, in their l throughout the poem. The charmingly melo

dious flow of verse is so pleasant to read that tender pathos and a graceful rhythm; and we we are only induced to stop occasionally to ad- may also refer in admiring terms to the lines, mire some chastely ornate description or exqui- by W. S. (Mr. William Sawyer), called "Two sitely quaint simile-notably such as the fol- Loves and a Life,” founded on the drama of lowing:

that name by Messrs. Tom Taylor and Charles

Reade. Miss Braddon's last novel, “Sir Jasper's Daisy of Wildrose thought; spoke not, but thought; Tenant,” has been severely noticed in the And, thinking, ever grieved; for she believed

Examiner, the critique in question being headed That e’en her ringing laugh was half a sob And half a lie—the whole a mystery

“Kitchen Literature," and the work classed Sad as the jingling of a sick mime's bells.

with the London Journal, Reynolds', and the

Penny Miscellany. Admirable as the first poem is, we must say the The Echo is the title of a new penny journal, second and shorter one, entitled “Home,” is our which is published at the office of the Glorofavourite. It is so tender in its pathos, so touch- worm, and is in the style of Public Opinion. ingly real in its sadness, and above all so we may also refer to the appearance of a new heartily English in feeling, and having where theatrical organ, entitled the Dramatic Telegram, withal not the slightest taint of morbid senti- and the first number of a new monthly domes. mentality, that we unhesitatingly pronounce it tic magazine, to be called the “Household," to be one of the finest poems of the kind we have price 2d., will appear on the 1st of January, seen for many a day. It is the sort of poem that under the auspices of Messrs. Groombridge. will be read and re-read by everyone. Mothers In a recent number of Fun appears an adwill read it with moistened eyes, and even strong mirable cartoon entitled “Pharaoh's Serpents

, men will experience a sensation of “chokiness" or, What may be got out of the Head of the Gothat they cannot account for, when perusingvernment,” representing Gladstone having set this tenderly mournful picture-poem.

a light to a pigmy figure of Earl Russell, from We have been mystified by the appearance of whose head proceeds Peace, Prosperity, Progress, the one-line advertisements usual at this season. Reform, Retrenchment, and Reduced Taxation. “Hatch-ups" (not a very elegant title) has We were surprised to see a riddle, in the same reference to Beeton's Christmas annual, and number, having reference to a drowned monkey “Dr. Marigold's Prescriptions” is the title of and a horse-doctor, which we remember years the Christmas number of “ All the Year round.” ago, in one of the comic periodicals, applied to Then there is “Everybody's Business," and a rat in a similar condition. This might not “The Twelfth Finger of the Left Hand but one,” have been wondered at before the new series, to which, up to the present, we have no but the present excellence of Fun causes us to solution, except that the former is to be be hyper-critical. published by Messrs. Simpkin and Mar- At the farewell dinner given to Professor shall. We think that “Come again” and Masson, before his departure for Scotland, “ Soup, Fish, Entreés, Joints, Sweets, Game, Messrs. Sala and Jefferson represented literafor Three-pence” may refer to the appearance of ture. We think it was hardly wise to publish the a cookery-book published by Routledge. As names of those who sent letters of regret at works got up in an attractive manner and suita- their inability to be present, as it proved that ble for Christmas presents, we may mention the best men were absent. “ The Round of Days," a series of poems by Professor Lindley, the eminent botanist, is various authors, charmingly illustrated, and dead; also Mr. Lovell Reeve and Mr. Petti“Pictures of Society, Grave and Gay,” being a grew; and it is with much regret we refer to selection of the illustrations which have ap- the void left in the literary world by the death peared in “ London Society," with appropriate of James Lowe, Mrs. Gaskell

, and Mr. Cathletterpress. Nor should we forget to refer to an rall of the Manchester Times. illustrated edition of the ever-popular “Mrs. The death of Tom Sayers, the noted pugilist, Caudle's Curtain-lectures” as an acceptable re- should be recorded an event that formed the print; and, while on the subject of reprints, we subject of a leading article in the Daily Telemay allude to “Diamond Dust,” under which graph, a journal that often disregards propriety title the columns of pithy sayings which ap- and good taste in its leaders. A long account peared in “ Eliza Cook's Journal," are, for the of the prizefighter's funeral also appeared in its first time, published in a collected form. columns. Was the Daily Telegraph trying to

A novel, by Miss Agnes Strickland, called emulate The Sporting Life ? Sayers is to have “How will it end?” has just been published; a monument it appears. and we have been completely deluged with Baron Marochetti's bust of Thackeray has shilling books, from "Artemus Ward" and been uncovered in Westminster Abbey, “Orpheus Kerr” to “The Sparrowgrass Papers," Mr. Ruskin has, we observe, been lecturing cum multis aliis. In “ London Society” Jack on art at the Working Man's College, in Great Easel has been across the Solent, and, in a very Ormond-street. agreeable article, has given a faithful account of C. and C.; or, A Friend in Need,” is the the same ground that we went over two months title of an entertainment which has been given ago. “Tryste in the Snow, a November Idyll," at St. Martin's Hall by Messrs. Coote and Cape

, in the same number, is the title of some verses in which these gentlemen succeeded in amusing by Mr. William Reade, about which there is a 'their audience for upwards of two hours, by

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