he other with, "Any tigers there, Bill?"
he answered gloriously: "Tigers? I'm knee-deep in them!"

That excellent story recalls to me another, not unlike it. Also of a
Christmas time. The children had asked permission to get up a play, and
it had been granted on the condition that they did it all themselves
without help or hint. As the eldest was only ten they accepted the
condition with alacrity, for young children hate to be interfered with
and hampered by their elders. When the evening came and the family and
audience had collected, the curtain was drawn back and revealed the
heroine (aged nine), who stated with impassioned sobs that her husband
had been in South Africa for the past three years, but that she was
expecting his return. Truly enough the hero (aged ten) entered, and
proceeded, after affectionate but hasty greetings, to give his wife an
eloquent account of his doings, the battles he had fought, the Boers he
had killed, and the honours he had won.

When he at last paused for breath, his wife rose, and taking his hand
led him to the back, where a short curtain covered a recess. "I, too,
dear," she said proudly, "have not been idle."

And pulling back the curtain she displayed six cradles occupied by six
large baby dolls!

And that again recalls another, quite in the same line. One day a
gentleman walking down a street observed a little boy seated on a
doorstep. Going up to him, he said, "Well, my little chap, how is it you
are sitting outside on the doorstep, when I see through the window all
the other young folks inside playing games and having a good time? Why
aren't you inside joining in the fun?" "I guess, stranger, that I'm in
this game." replied the boy. "But how can you be, when you are out on
the doorstep, and the others are all inside?" "Oh, I'm in the show right
enough. You see, we're playing at being married. I'm the baby, and I'm
not born yet!"

The late Dr. Norman M'cLeod--the great Norman--rejoiced in telling a
story about two ragged children whom he found busy on the side of a
country road one day, working with some stiffened mud, which they had
carefully scraped together. "What's this you are making?" he asked. One
of the children replied that it was a kirk. "A kirk! Ay, and where's the
door?" "There it's." "And the pulpit?" "That's it." "And the minister?"
The little one hesitated, then replied, very innocently--"We hadna dirt
enough left to mak' a minister."

The minister, of course