LESSON CVII.

A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS.

CLEMENT C. MOORE.

CLEMENT C. MOORE was born in New York, July 15, 1779. After graduating from Columbia College, he devoted himself with great success to the study of Hebrew, and in 1809 published a Hebrew and English Lexicon. In 1821 he accepted a professorship in the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church.

1. 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring,—not even a mouse';

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care',
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there`.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds',
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads';
And mamma in her kerchief', and I in my cap',
Had settled our brains for a long winter's nap';
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter',
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter'.

2. Away to the window I flew like a flash',

Tore open the shutters', and threw up the sash'.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below:
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

3. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

(r) And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by

name:

(pr) "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now,

Vixen!

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Dunder and Blitzen ! (pr) To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall! Now, dash away, dash away, dash away, all!"

4. As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly',
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky',
So up to the housetop the coursers they flew',
With the sleigh full of toys', and St. Nicholas too'.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof;
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

5. He was dress'd all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnish'd with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys was flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes', how they twinkled'! his dimples', how merry!

His cheeks were like roses', his nose like a cherry`;

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow',
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow';
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.

6. He was chubby and plump', a right jolly old elf',
And I laugh'd when I saw him', in spite of myself`.
A wink of his eye', and a twist of his head',
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread'.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And fill'd all his stockings, then turn'd with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

LESSON CVIII.

MRS. CAUDLE ASKS FOR SPRING CLOTHING.

DOUGLASS JERROLD.

1. If there's any thing in the world I hate, and you know it, it is asking you for money. I am sure, for myself, I'd rather go without a thing a thousand times, and I do, the more shame for you to let me. What do I want now? As if you didn't know! I'm sure, if I'd any money of my own, I'd never ask you for a farthing-never! It's painful to me, gracious knows!

2. What do you say? If it's painful, why so often do it? I suppose you call that a joke,—one of your club jokes! As I say, I only wish I'd any money of my own. If there is anything that humbles a poor woman, it is coming to a man's pocket for every farthing. It's dreadful!

3. Now, Caudle, you shall hear me, for it isn't often I speak. Pray, do you know what month it is? And did you see how the children looked at church to-day,-like nobody else's

children? What was the matter with them? Oh, Caudle! how can you ask? Weren't they all in their thick merinoes and beaver bonnets?

4. What do you say? What of it? What! You'll tell me that you didn't see how the Briggs girls, in their new chips, turned their noses up at 'em? And you didn't see how the Browns looked at the Smiths, and then at our poor girls, as much as to say, "Poor creatures! what figures for the first of May!"

you

5. You didn't see it? The more shame for ! I'm sure, those Briggs girls-the little minxes!-put me into such a pucker, I could have pulled their ears for 'em over the pew. What do you say? I ought to be ashamed to own it? Now, Caudle, it's no use talking; those children shall not cross over the threshold next Sunday, if they haven't things for the summer. Now mind,-they sha'n't; and there's an end of it!

6. I'm always wanting money for clothes? How can you say that? I'm sure there are no children in the world that cost their father so little; but that's it-the less a poor woman does upon, the less she may.

7. Now, Caudle, dear! What a man you are! I know you'll give me the money, because, after all, I think you love your children, and like to see 'em well dressed. It's only natural that a father should. How much money do I want? Let me see, love. There's Caroline, and Jane, and Susan, and Mary Anne, and- What do you say? I needn't count 'em? You know how many there are! That's just the way you take me up!

8. Well, how much money will it take. Let me see,—I'll tell you in a minute. You always love to see the dear things like new pins. I know that, Caudle; and, though I say it,— bless their little hearts!-they do credit to you, Caudle.

9. How much? Now, don't be in a hurry! Well, I think, with good pinching,—and you know, Caudle, there's never a wife can pinch closer than I can,-I think, with pinching, I can do with twenty pounds.

10. What did you say? Twenty fiddlesticks? What? You won't give half the money? Very well, Mr. Caudle; I don't

care; let the children go in rags; let them stop from church, and grow up like heathens and cannibals; and then you'll save your money, and, I suppose, be satisfied.

11. What do you say? Ten pounds enough? Yes, just like you men; you think things cost nothing for women; but you don't care how much you lay out upon yourselves. 12. They only want frocks and bonnets? How do you know what they want? How should a man know anything at all about it? And you won't give me more than ten pounds? Very well! Then you may go shopping with it yourself, and see what you'll make of it! I'll have none of your ten pounds, I can tell you,-no, sir!

13. No; you've no cause to say that. I don't want to dress the children up like countesses. You often throw that in my teeth, you do; but you know it's false, Caudle; you know it! I only wish to give 'em proper notions of themselves; and what, indeed, can the poor things think, when they see the Briggses, the Browns, and the Smiths, and their fathers don't make the money you do, Caudle,-when they see them as fine as tulips? Why, they must think themselves nobody. However, the twenty pounds I will have, if I've any or not a farthing!

14. No, sir; no, I don't want to dress up the children like peacocks and parrots! I only want to make 'em respectable. What do you say? You'll give me fifteen pounds? No, Caudle, no; not a penny will I take under twenty. If I did, it would seem as if I wanted to waste your money; and I'm sure, when I come to think of it, twenty pounds will hardly do!

LESSON CIX.

THE LADIES' PETITION TO DR. MOYES.

1. DEAR doctor, let it not transpire

How much your lectures we admire;
How at your eloquence we wonder,
When you explain the cause of thunder,
Of lightning, and of electricity,

With so much plainness and simplicity;