Annie and Willie's Prayer.
ANNIE AND WILLIE'S PRAYER.
'TWAS the eve before Christmas: "Good-night” had
And Annie and Willie had crept into bed;
There were tears on their pillows, and tears in their eyes, And each little bosom was heavy with sighs
For to-night their stern father's command had been given,
That they should retire precisely at seven
Instead of at eight; for they'd troubled him more
With questions unheard of than ever before;
He had told them he thought this delusion a sin-
No such being as "Santa Claus" ever had been,
And he hoped, after this, he never should hear
How he scrambled down chimneys with presents each year.
And this was the reason that two little heads
So restlessly tossed on their soft, downy beds.
Eight, nine, and the clock on the steeple tolled ten;
Not a word had been spoken by either till then,
When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep,
And whispered, "Dear Annie, is you fast asleep?
Why, no, brother Willie," a sweet voice replies,
"I've tried it in vain, but I can't shut my eyes;
For, somehow, it makes me so angry because
Dear papa has said there is no Santa Claus:'
Now we know there is, and it can't be denied,
For he came every year before mamma died;
But, then, I've been thinking that she used to pray,
And God would hear everything mamma would say,
And perhaps she asked Him to send Santa Claus here,
With the sacks full of presents he brought every year."
"Well, why tan't we pay dest as mainma did then, And ask Him to send him with presents a len?" "I've been thinking so too." And without a word more Four little bare feet bounded out on the noor,
And four little knees the soft carpet pressed,
And two tiny hands were clasped close to each breast.
'Now, Willie, you know we must firmly believe
That the presents we ask for we're sure to receive;
You must wait just as still till I say the 'Amen,'
And by that you will know that your turn has come then."
Annie and Willie's Prayer.
"Dear Jesus, look down on my brother and me,
And grant us the favour we are asking of Thee;
I want a wax-dolly, a tea-set and ring,
And an ebony work-box that shuts with a spring.
Bless papa, dear Jesus, and cause him to see
That Santa Claus loves us far better than he.
Don't let him get fretful and angry again
At dear brother Willie and Annie, Amen!"
"Please Desus, 'et Santa Taus tum down to-night, And bring us some presents before it is light,
I want he should dive me a nice little sed,
With bright, shiny runners, and all painted yed:
A box full of tandy, a book and a toy,
Amen, and then, Desus, I'll be a dood boy."
Their prayers being ended, they raised up their heads,
And with hearts light and cheerful again sought their beds;
They were soon lost in slumber, both peaceful and deep,
And with fairies in Dreamland were roaming in sleep.
Eight, nine and the little French clock had struck ten,
Ere the father had thought of his children again;
He seems now to hear Annie's half suppressed sighs,
And to see the big tear stand in Willie's blue eyes.
"I was harsh with my darlings," he mentally said,
"And I should not have sent them so early to bed;
But then I was troubled-my feelings found vent,
For bank stock to-day has gone down ten per cent.
But of course they've forgot their troubles ere this,
And that I denied them the thrice-asked for kiss;
But, just to make sure, I'll steal up to their door,
For I never spoke harsh to my darlings before."
So saying, he softly ascended the stairs,
And arrived at the door to hear both of their prayers.
His Annie's "bless papa" "draws forth the big tears,
And Willie's grave promise falls sweet on his ears.
Strange, strange, I'd forgotten," said he with a sigh, "How I longed, when a child, to have Christmas draw nigh. I'll atone for my harshness," he inwardly said,
By answering their prayers ere I sleep in my bed."
Annie and Willie's Prayer.
Then he turned to the stairs and softly went down,
Threw off his velvet slippers and silk dressing gown,
Donned hat, coat, and boots, and was out in the street,
A millionaire facing the cold, driving sleet.
Nor stopped he until he had bought every thing,
From the box full of candy to the tiny gold ring;
Indeed he kept adding so much to his store,
That the various presents outnumbered a score.
Then homeward he turned with his holiday load,
And with Aunt Mary's aid in the nursery 'twas stow'd;
Miss Dolly was seated beneath a pine tree,
By the side of a table spread out for her tea;
A work-box well filled in the centre was laid,
And on it a ring for which Annie had prayed;
A soldier in uniform stood by a sled,
"With bright shining runners and all painted red."
There were balls, dogs and horses, books pleasing to see,
And birds of all colours were perched on the tree;
While Santa Claus laughing, stood up on the top,
As if getting ready more presents to drop.
And as the fond father the picture surveyed,
He thought for his trouble he had amply been paid,
And he said to himself, as he brushed off a tear,
"I'm happier to-night than I've been for a year,
I've enjoyed more true pleasure than ever before,
What care I if bank stock falls ten per cent more!
Hereafter I'll make it a rule I believe,
To have Santa Claus visit us each Christmas eve."
So thinking, he gently extinguished the light,
And tripped down the stairs to retire for the night.
As soon as the beams of the bright morning sun
Put the darkness to flight and the stars one by one,
Four little blue eyes out of sleep opened wide,
And at the same moment the presents espied,
Then out of their beds they sprang with a bound,
And the very gifts prayed for were all of them found.
They laughed and they cried in their innocent glee,
And shouted for papa to come quick and see
What presents old Santa Claus brought in the night,
(Just the things that they wanted), and left before light.
The Fable of the Two Monkies.
"And now," added Annie, in a voice soft and low,
"You'll believe there's a Santa Claus, papa, I know;"
While dear little Willie climbed up on his knee,
Determined no secret between them should be;
And told, in sweet whispers, how Annie had said
That their dear, blessed mamma, so long ago dead,
Used to kneel down and pray by the side of their chair,
And that God up in heaven had answered her prayer!
"Then we dot up and payed dust as well as we tould, And God answered our payers; now wasn't He dood?" "I should say that He was, if He sent you all these, And knew just what presents my children would please, (Well, well, let him think so, the dear little elf, Twould be cruel to tell him I did it myself).”
Blind father! who cause l your stern heart to relent?
And the hasty word spoken so soon to repent?
'Twas the Being who bade you steal softly up stairs
And made you His agent to answer their prayers.
THE FABLE OF THE TWO MONKIES.
A LITTLE monkey chanced to find
A walnut in its outward rind;
He snatched the prize with eager haste,
And bit it; but its bitter taste
Soon made him throw the fruit away.
"I've heard," he cried, "my mother say
(But she was wrong,) the fruit was good;
Preserve me from such bitter food!"
A monkey, by experience taught,
The falling prize with pleasure caught:
Took off the husk, and broke the shell,
The kernel peeled, and liked it well.
'Walnuts," said he, "are good and sweet:
But must be opened ere you eat."
And thus in life you'll always find
Labour comes first--reward behind.
UP! to arms! the day is breaking,
Gladsome omens fill the sky;
Rouse ye, comrades, for the conflict,
Shout the glorious battle cry.
Raise aloft the noble standard,
Emblem of our unity-
Reformation, prohibition,
Death to vice and tyranny.
Rally round our gallant chieftain :
See, he nobly leads the van;
Close the ranks, in compact phalanx,
Heart to heart, and man to man.
Heed not though the foe be powerful,
Fall before your arms he must;
Storm his palaces and strongholds,
Lay the tyrant in the dust.
Tell me not that Britain's children
Lack the ardour of their sires,
For the patriot's true devotion
Every manly bosom fires.
From the mountain and the valley,
From the city's busy life,
Countless hosts the cry re-echo,
All are eager for the strife.
Not to fields of blood we call you,
Not the warrior's arms to wield;
Yours are weapons nobler, mightier,
Than the sword, the spear, and shield.
Yours a cause by far more glorious
Than the petty whims of kings;
For, while others may applaud them,
You aspire to nobler things.
Strike for freedom from oppression;
In our noble cause combine;
And, in deeds of moral dari g,
May your names illustrious shine.
Go ye forth in righteous anger;
Hurl the liquor traffic down;
Freedom is a Briton's watchword;
Freedom shall your efforts crown.
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