on the altar of the chapel
of the Virgin, where he often went to pray for the poor mason.

[Illustration]

THE SABOTS OF LITTLE WOLFF.

[Illustration: The Sabots of little Wolff.

(a Christmas Story).]

Once upon a time--it was so long ago that the whole world has forgotten
the date--in a city in the north of Europe--whose name is so difficult
to pronounce that nobody remembers it--once upon a time there was a
little boy of seven, named Wolff, an orphan in charge of an old aunt who
was hard and avaricious, who only embraced him on New-Year's Day, and
who breathed a sigh of regret every time that she gave him a porringer
of soup.

But the poor little chap was naturally so good that he loved the old
woman just the same, although she frightened him very much, and he could
never see without trembling the great wart, ornamented with four gray
hairs, which she had on the end of her nose.

As the aunt of Wolff was known through all the village to have a house
and an old stocking full of gold, she did not dare send her nephew to
the school for the poor. But she so schemed to obtain a reduction of the
price with the school-master whose school little Wolff attended, that
the bad teacher, vexed at having a scholar so badly dressed and who paid
so poorly, punished him very often and unjustly with the backboard and
fool's cap, and even stirred his fellow-pupils against him, all sons of
well-to-do men, who made the orphan their scapegoat.

The poor little fellow was therefore as miserable as the stones in the
street, and hid himself in out-of-the-way corners to cry; when Christmas
came.

The night before Christmas the school-master was to take all of his
pupils to the midnight mass, and bring them back to their homes.

Now, as the winter was very severe that year, and as for several days a
great quantity of snow had fallen, the scholars came to the rendezvous
warmly wrapped and bundled up, with fur caps pulled down over their
ears, double and triple jackets, knitted gloves and mittens, and good
thick nailed boots with strong soles. Only little Wolff came shivering
in the clothes that he wore week-days and Sundays, and with nothing on
his feet but coarse Strasbourg socks and heavy sabots, or wooden shoes.

His thoughtless comrades made a thousand jests over his sad looks and
his peasant's dress. But the orphan was so occupied in blowing on his
fingers, and suffered so much from his chilblains, that he took no
no