the tick-tick of the stock
telegraph, and thinks what a confounded nuisance holidays are. That is
what Christmas is like in good society.

But I must tell you a secret. Away up in the fourth-story of his grand
house, where his wife never goes, St. Nicholas has a little workshop,
and there he sits whenever he gets a chance, making the most wonderful
dolls, and gorgeous soldiers, and miraculous jumping-jacks, and tin
horns--such quantities of tin horns! Some one ought to speak to him
about those tin horns. But after all they please the poor children, so
we suppose it's all right. Now do you know what he does with these
things? On Christmas Eve he gets his old sled down from the stable away
up by the North Pole, and as soon as his wife is fast asleep, he puts on
his old furs and gets out from under his shirts in his bureau drawer a
Dutch pipe, three times as big as the one his wife threw away, and off
he goes. He tumbles down all the poor people's chimneys, and fills up
the stockings to overflowing, and plants gorgeous Christmas trees in all
the Mission schools.

He has a glorious good time, and laughs and chuckles tremendously,
except when, once in a while, he thinks of what would happen if his wife
found him out.

So there's a little fun going on after all.

Do you know, if it were not for this performance of his, we should wish
with all our heart that St. Nicholas were dead and buried. But we must
say, we wish his wife would die, and that all the Grundy family would
follow her good example, for between them they've spoiled a good many
jolly people besides St. Nicholas.

* * * * *

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND

There's a song in the air!
There's a star in the sky!
There's a mother's deep prayer
And a baby's low cry!
And the star rains its fire while the Beautiful sing,
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king.

There's a tumult of joy
O'er the wonderful birth,
For the virgin's sweet boy
Is the Lord of the earth,
Ay! the star rains its fire and the Beautiful sing,
For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a king.

In the light of that star
Lie the ages impearled;
And that song from afar
Has swept over the world.
Every hearth is aflame, and the Beautiful sing
In the homes of the nations that Jesus is King.