is conversation had been going on, little Johnny had
disappeared in the pantry; and now, at this very moment, he came out,
screaming: 'Oh! my nose hurts! my nose hurts!' and ran to his mother.

"It seems that, anxious to find out what kind of snuff salt would make,
he had privately walked into the pantry, and had snuffed and poked quite
a quantity into his poor little nose, and now it smarted as if twenty
hornets had stung him at once; and he jumped up and down with the pain.

"They had a great time soaking his nose in warm water, and felt very
sorry for him, though they could not, for their lives, help laughing
when George said that Johnny had salted and pickled his nose so well,
that it would keep in the hottest weather; at any rate, it would last
him as long as he lived; which comforted Johnny very much, for he
thought that it might have to be cut off to get the salt out.

"After this they bid everybody good night, and went to bed, and Johnny
said he felt 'pretty _compertuffle_.' His mother had told him that 'good
little Henry,' of whom you have read, always said 'compertuffle' for
'comfortable,' and Johnny thought it was just the right word to express
his feelings."

THE FIFTH LETTER.

THE ROSE CROWN.

_For Clara._

DEAR, TENDER-HEARTED LITTLE CLARA:--In the olden time, there was a
beautiful superstition in Germany, that on Christmas eve our Saviour,
just as he was when a little child here below, comes at midnight in at
the door, and fills all those children's shoes with gifts, who have
followed His example of goodness and obedience. You know that _you_
hang up your _stockings_, and Santa Claus comes down the chimney; but
the little German children believe that they are far more blessed. It is
a beautiful idea, for it brings Him, who for our sakes became a little
child on earth, more closely and lovingly to the children's hearts. They
grow up sure of His love and sympathy, from infancy to old age.

I have asked Sarah ("the doctor") to write me another story after the
German fashion, on purpose for you. She has given me this "Rose Crown;"
and the story turns upon the sweet and solemn belief of the German
children.

You will perceive that the little Gottfried in the story thought of this
with such intensity, and with such perfect faith in its truth, as to
cause him to walk in his sleep, like a somnambulist. No doubt your dear
mother can tell you many strange and extraordinary stories of
somnambulist