eman--gasped out, 'Take care of my poor Fido; good-night,' and was
gone. It was as much as I could do to get the little creature away from
his dead master; he clung to him as if he loved him better than life.
You'll take care of him, won't you, children? I brought him home to you,
for a Christmas present."

"Pretty little Fido," said Kitty, taking the soft, curly creature in her
arms; "I think it's the best present in the world, and to-morrow is to
be real Christmas, because you are home, papa."

"And we'll eat the turkey," said Harry, "and shellbarks, lots of them,
that I saved for you. What a good time we'll have! And oh, papa, don't
go to war any more, but stay at home, with mother and Kitty and Fido and
me."

"What would become of our country if we should all do that, my little
man? It was a good day's work that we did this Christmas, getting the
army all across the river so quickly and quietly that we surprised the
enemy, and gained a victory, with the loss of few men."

Thus it was that some of the good people of 1776 spent their Christmas,
that their children and grandchildren might spend many of them as
citizens of a _free nation_.

FOOTNOTE:

[S] From "A Last Century Maid and Other Stories for Children," by A. H.
W. Lippincott, 1895.

XXVIII

CHRISTMAS UNDER THE SNOW[T]

OLIVE THORNE MILLER

IT WAS just before Christmas, and Mr. Barnes was starting for the
nearest village. The family were out at the door to see him start, and
give him the last charges.

"Don't forget the Christmas dinner, papa," said Willie.

"'Specially the chickens for the pie!" put in Nora.

"An' the waisins," piped up little Tot, standing on tiptoe to give papa
a good-bye kiss.

"I hate to have you go, George," said Mrs. Barnes anxiously. "It looks
to me like a storm."

"Oh, I guess it won't be much," said Mr. Barnes lightly; "and the
youngsters must have their Christmas dinner, you know."

"Well," said Mrs. Barnes, "remember this, George: if there is a bad
storm don't try to come back. Stay in the village till it is over. We
can get along alone for a few days, can't we, Willie?" turning to the
boy who was giving the last touches to the harness of old Tim, the
horse.

"Oh, yes! Papa, I can take care of mamma," said Willie earnestly.

"And get up the Christmas dinner out of nothing?" asked papa, smiling.

"I don't know," said Willie, hesitating, as he remembered the proposed
dinner, in which he felt a deep i