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Then oh, what a scene there was in that room! Away went the elves, but down from the gloom Of the sooty old chimney comes tumbling low A child's whole wardrobe, from head to toe.
How Santa Claus laughed as he gathered them in,
When all the warm clothes were fastened on,
Saying, "God pity the poor, and bless the dear child
The wind caught the words and bore them on high
THREE LITTLE GRAVES.
"TWAS autumn, and the leaves were dry And rustled on the ground,
And chilly winds went whistling by,
With low and passive sound,
As through the graveyard's lone retreat,
I walked with slow and cautious feet
Three little graves, ranged side by side,
O'er two the tall grass bending sighed,
On death's long dreamless sleep,
Her form was bowed, but not with years,
And on those little graves her tears
A prattling boy, some four years old,
Mamma, now you must love me more,
And t'other sister died before,
And brother, too, you said. Mamma, what made sweet sister die; She loved me when we played. You told me if I would not cry,
You'd show me where she's laid."
""Tis here, my child, that sister lies,
I'll feed her from my
In this dark grave to-night;
"No, sister is not cold, my child,
For God, who saw her die,
As He looked down from heaven and smiled, Called her above the sky.
"And then her spirit quickly fled
"Mamma, won't she be hungry there,
And he must bring sweet sister home;
THE SCOUT'S MISTAKE.
"How get them the tidings? How send them the word ?
It sets all the blood in my pulses a-shiver! The enemy near, and they cannot have heard,
For no one has crossed since the rise in the river.
"The woods are between us; there's storm in the sky!
No rider dare venture the ford till the morning. If only they knew of the danger! Yet I
Am helpless to give them a token of warning. "Ah, were I but young again!" sadly he said,
"My youth in its heyday, the mettle all in it, No weakness to chafe me, no snow on my head,— The filly and I would be off in a minute!"
A stripling beside him looked up with a flash, "Why, father, what matters the forest? I'll skim it.
What matters how fiercely the tempest may dash ? Who cares for the river? The filly can swim it. "Just think of the peril ! My brothers are there.
By daylight, at farthest, some signal shall show it. They must not, like panthers, be trapped in their lair;
And sure as I'm living, their colonel shall know it !"
The morning broke gray. At the tap of the drum The corps from their briefly snatched slumbers were shaken.
"From over the river some tidings have come,A spy from some enemy near has been taken.