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 filled all the stockings; then turned 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!"

* * * * *

A CHRISTMAS PIECE

Of garnered rhyme, from hidden stores of olden time that since the
language did begin, have welcomed merry Christmas in, and made the
winter nights so long, fleet by on wings of wine and song; for when the
snow is on the roof, the house within is sorrow proof, if yule log
blazes on the hearth, and cups and hearts o'er-brim with mirth. Then
bring the wassail to the board, with nuts and fruit--the winter's hoard;
and bid the children take off shoe, to hang their stockings by the flue;
and let the clear and frosty sky, set out its brightest jewelry, to show
old Santa Claus the road, so he may ease his gimcrack load. And with the
coming of these times, we'll add some old and lusty rhymes, that suit
the festive season well, and sound as sweet as Christmas bell.

Now just bethink of castle gate, where humble midnight mummers wait, to
try if voices, one and all, can rouse the tipsy seneschal, to give them
bread and beer and brawn, for tidings of the Christmas morn; or bid each
yelper clear his throat, with water of the castle moat, for thus they
used, by snow and torch, to rear their voices at the porch:

_Fred S. Cozzens._

* * * * *

WASSAILER'S SONG

ROBERT SOUTHWELL

Wassail! wassail! all over the town,
Our toast it is white, and our ale it is brown;
Our bowl is made of a maplin tree;
We be good fellows all;--I drink to thee.

Here's to our horse, and to his right ear,
God send master a happy new year;
A happy new year as e'er he did see,--
With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee.

Here's to our mare, and to her right eye,
God send our mistress a good Christmas pie;
A good Christmas pie as e'er I did see,--
With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee.

Here's