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"Oh, where did you get it?" gasped Becca, while the boys whistled an accompaniment.

"Shot 'im this mornin' afore sun-up; an' I would n't 'low mam ter tech a feather of 'im till you-'uns hed seen 'im," he said proudly.

"You-'uns goin' to have a tu'key dinner?" asked the mother, as they entered the room. "No 'm," said Becca.

"Reckon you-all's folks would come ovah an' eat tu'key with us?" she inquired timidly. "There 's only mama," said Becca; "but we never could get her to come. She's been ill, and she 's very weak and nervous. We can't leave her long, but she likes to have us go sometimes, for noise worries her and she knows we can't keep still always."

'Pore soul! But ef I'd hev early dinner, could n't you-'uns eat with us an' then take some home to your mother?'"

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hurry back to mama," said Becca, as they rose from the table.

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"That's right, honey," said the woman. 'An' here's a nice bit of tu'key I saved out for her. I'm 'fraid we 'll nevah see you-'uns any moah, honey. We 're all goin' back to ol' Kaintuck to-morrow," she continued, her face tremulous with delight. "After you-'uns was here yesterday, we thought of how gran'pa would be glad ter see us, an' that we wa'n't doin' right by the chillen. So we air goin' back to gran'pa's. He 's got a big stock-farm, an' he 's gittin' ol', an' he 'll be proud to have us come back an' look after things." Oh, I'm so glad!" said Becca.

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"An' we 'll nevah fergit this Christmas, sissy. We'll give the chillen some schoolin', an' keep Christmas every year."

"It's the strangest thing-" said Becca,

"I think we could, thank you," said Becca, proudly flourishing her turkey-tail fan, as they looking at the boys' glistening eyes.

"Pa, give me thet tu'key this minute. Might hev hed it a-cookin' an hour ago but fer your foolishness!" said the woman, jokingly.

In an incredibly short time the bird was browning beautifully, and the east room was a bower of green. Becca decorated the tree. Then she lighted the candles, closed the outer door, darkened the window, and called in the company. The room and tree, lighted by the candles and the firelight, were really beautiful. Becca and her brothers recited some Christmas poems and sang a song or two, and then the presents were distributed. The wonder and delight of the children over their little gifts was pathetic.

"Pore leetle child!" said the mother, looking at her small daughter with moist eyes. "She nevah had a doll afore, 'cept a rag one. I wish 't I had somepin fer you-'uns, sissy." "Oh, we 've had lots of Christmases," said Little Miss Hopeful. "And think of the turkey!"

The turkey, indeed! What if there was not much else to eat? It was a king of turkeys; and the head of the family cracked jokes and told thrilling Indian tales until they could hardly eat for listening, hungry as they were.

"We 've had a perfectly lovely time, and we 've enjoyed it all so much; but we must VOL. XXIX.-21.

trudged homeward (for their new friends had bestowed upon them the turkey tail and wings), "I did n't think we would have a good time at all this Christmas, and it 's one of the jolliest we ever had. I do hope mama is all right. It seems like such a very long time since we left her."

She ran lightly up the shaky steps and threw open the door; then she stopped with a shock that she never forgot: for there sat a man who was nothing more nor less than an enlarged copy of her brother Joe. With a squeak of alarm, she turned and clutched her brother to make sure that he was really there in the flesh and unchanged. Then she had another start; for on the other side of the fire sat their mama, no longer wan and weeping, but sweet and smiling, pink-cheeked and shining-eyed.

"Children," she said, "this is your Uncle

Jim."

Whereupon, for the first time in her life, little Miss Hopeful forgot her manners. She whirled squarely about with her back to her uncle, and faced her brothers with an exulting smile on her pert little face.

"Aha!" she chirped, "what did I tell you?" The next minute she was crying comfortably in Uncle Jim's arms, while Fred and Joe were dancing a hornpipe that shook the little house.

READING ABOUT

HOLIDAYS.

BOOKS AND READING.

WHEN holiday times are approaching, it is well to prepare for them by making yourself acquainted with the reasons for the keeping of the various days. About Christmas you need no information of that kind, but instead you will be interested in learning in how many ways the day is kept in various lands and by different races. The Germans, the French, the Italians, the Spaniards, the Greeks- each have customs peculiar to themselves and very well worth knowing about. Few children of to-day would like to give up Santa Claus and the Christmas tree, but we Americans and English borrowed both from Germany. Perhaps in the many books about holidays may be found other plants as well worth cultivating as the Christmas tree, or men who will make as welcome visitors as Santa Claus himself.

CHRISTMAS

come.

MONEY.

FAR down in the toe of

What fairy-story wand can be weighed in the balance against the pen of Thackeray or of Dickens? The pen-or rather the mind behind the pen-is the magic of our day.

READING ESSAYS.

Do not young people

read too many stories? There is so much good writing in articles that it seems a pity not to begin upon them before the days of our youth are past. You need not commence with Emerson or Macaulay, for they are not the easiest to understand. Thoreau, Stevenson, Arthur Helps, Burroughs, Charles Lamb-all have written essays that young readers will enjoy. In order to find good reading of any kind, there is no better way than to ask questions of those who are wiser. Older readers take great pleasure in advising their juniors, and you will soon learn where to go when seeking the best advice.

QUOTATIONS.
the stocking there may be

found a little gold piece, and upon its smiling
yellow face there is the promise of pleasures to
But like the king with the golden touch,
you will soon find that gold cannot be eaten,
and is most valuable when changed into an-
other form. Before making the magical trans-
formation, do not forget that the book-store is
one of the magician's caves where the gold
piece may be made to take another form, and
a form that is nearly indestructible. Like the
fairy food, a book may be consumed again and
again without being at all smaller. Like the
Flying Horse, the book may be made to carry
you anywhere on the globe. Once within its
pages you travel safely anywhere, as if clothed
in the Suit of Invisibility; and your speed will
put to shame the Shoes of Swiftness. Better
than the Inexhaustible Purse, a book not only
retains all its own wealth, but continually adds
to yours.
There is no end to a book's magical
power. It may be the means of blessing a
friend or reconciling an enemy.

Now, what is the secret that makes a well written book so great a marvel? A book is a little box of thoughts, and in thought all things have their beginning and must find their end.

IF you must quote, do quote correctly. Is the pen mightier than the sword? Thousands say or print, "The pen is mightier than the sword." It may be true, but if it is meant for a quotation it is not fairly given. The original lines in the play are:

Beneath the rule of men entirely great,
The pen is mightier than the sword.

This error has been corrected over and over again. But those who misquote seldom read what they are pretending to quote, but quote from a man who quoted from another man who-and so on. In many books will be found long lists of these prevalent misquotations.

NEWSPAPERS.

IT seems that children and newspapers may very well thrive separately. There is, of course, a class of newspapers which are carefully written and well edited, and meant to be good reading for every age that reads at all. But even the best newspaper is not the best reading for children. If there is news in which children are rightfully interested, it would be an easy matter for some older person to read it aloud or to repeat to children what is important for them to know. Childhood is a time when the home life should

come first, since the same surroundings can never return; and the doings of the grown-up world should not greatly concern children in a happy home. Outside interests will force their way to the young mind soon enough, and the child who begins to read newspapers too early is much to be pitied. As to the newspapers or magazines that are not good company for any one, they are worst in children's hands.

INTERRUPTIONS.

It is a wise rule to "do one thing at a time." And in nothing is the rule more important than in reading. The mind is very accommodating, and will try to do its work under the most discouraging circumstances. You can sit in a room full of people who are talking and laughing, and yet can read with some understanding. But where this is not necessary it should never be done. Read in quiet and in solitude if you hope for the best results. At least, keep the best books for the quiet hours, and this for two reasons. One is, that you may see all there is in the book; another is, that your mind may do its work with the least effort and the least fatigue. At the same time, it is well to teach yourself to forget what is going on about you, so that you may be able to work even when silence and solitude are not attainable. Like most good rules, this one about interruptions needs to be applied with wise judgment.

BOOKS NOT BOOKS.

Is N'T it Charles Lamb who speaks of "books that are not books"?-such as account-books, cookery-books, almanacs, and such homely, useful creatures of the pen? Of course none will deny the value of these, but it is not with these that this department has mainly to do. Yet there are some volumes not to be called literature that should be familiar to book-lovers; and one of the most valuable of them is the pocket note-book.

Each of you who learns to keep such a handy little friend will learn to select the sort that suits your needs; but a good one is a rather thin book, with flexible cover, and the pages ruled in "quadrillé ruling”—that is, in faint squares. This ruling is useful whether you write or draw, and becomes more valuable as you learn its many uses. By means of the little

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items. At Christmas, for instance, there are the lists of presents bought or to be bought, or worth thinking about. At New Year's, there are the new leaves to be turned over, and the good resolutions to be jotted down. But for the reader, besides these items, the note-book should be ready to act as a memory. As you read you come upon a reference to let us say, Christopher Columbus. Now the name seems familiar to you as a well-read student of history, but for a moment you do not recall just what he did. Was he the conqueror of Peru, or did he found Jamestown? If y you will take out your note-book, and make a note like this: "Columbus, Christopher. Why was he celebrated?" you will impress your mind with the question, and will before long be able to record the answer. And do not forget to mark in some way the memoranda that are used up. Then, when you look for a new memorandum, you will not find the old ones in the way. It is a good plan, also, to look over the book now and then for the sake of removing "dead" pages.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

THERE is no other Christmas gift that can bring the pleasure given by a happy human face. It is the gift that may be made by poor or rich, by old or young. It is the gift to which all are entitled, with which all are pleased. It is written in a language all can read, and carries a message none will refuse. Every kindly thought is at once printed upon the face in lines that cannot be misread, and published through eyes and lips to every reader. This is the Christmas carol all may write, and which all will read on Christmas morning to their health and happiness. Before the lips are opened for the morning greeting, the whole face should speak the yet unspoken words: "I wish you a very merry Christmas!"

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SIR LIONEL STUYVESANT PETER VON TOOTS Had one hundred and ten pairs of beautiful boots: Blüchers and Wellingtons, Hessians and Jacks, Round toes and pointed toes, russets and blacks, High-lows and buskins,

of each a full store, Top-boots and sandals and gaiters galore, Balmorals and Congress strapped, buttoned, and laced;

With the finest of silk they were tasseled

and faced;

Bathing, golf, tennis, and bicycle shoes, Worsted-worked slippers of marvelous hues, Dancing-pumps, too, of bright patent leatherIn short, he had foot-gear for all sorts of weather,

For all sorts of places and all sorts of times, For all sorts of ventures in all sorts of climes. Yet Sir Lionel Stuyvesant Peter von Toots

Was that kind of a person whom

nothing quite suits;

And all day he would sit in his

large easy-chair,

Uncertain which ones

't would be proper

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