ld-headed cane and
great blue overcoat! What quantities of almonds and raisins, of oranges
and sweetmeats, those overcoat-pockets contain! What child ever lived
who did not believe grandpa's pocket a cornucopia for all juvenile
desires? The day passes on. The turkey never looked browner or juicier,
and the blaze on the pudding-sauce never burned bluer; the kissing under
the mistletoe was never more delightful, nor the blindman's-buff ever
played with a greater zest: but the merriest Christmas must end. Your
little girl, tired and sleepy, kneels at your feet, and you pass your
fingers through her soft curls, while she repeats her simple prayer:
"God bless pa, God bless ma, God bless grandpa, God bless little
brother, and God bless Santa Claus;" and you hope that God _will_ bless
Santa Claus. You thank your Creator you _are_ the master of that quiet
home and the father of those dear children, and go to your rest with a
heart full of gratitude. You hope that all the newspaper-boys, and all
the milkmen and bread-men's children, and all the little boys and girls
who have no fathers or mothers or grandpas, and all the poor, and all
the sick, and all the blind, and all the distressed, have had a merry
Christmas.

At a time like this, when the security of your own reward relaxes
scrutiny for the shortcomings of others, I would have you take up these
"_Trifles_."

A CHRISTMAS MELODY.

The Prelude.

"Twenty-nine dollars! Very well, Mr. John Redfield: I think you _have_
cut your allowance a _little_ low. With bracelets, bonbons, and other
gewgaws for your interesting friends, I must say your enjoyment of this
prospective Twenty-fifth of December is somewhat reduced. When a man has
skated over the frozen surface of society a little matter of
one-and-thirty years, it is just reasonable to hope he has reached that
desideratum known as years of discretion. There is a little adage
relating to the immeasurably short time the feeble-minded enjoy
pecuniary advantages, which I think decidedly applicable to you.

"A rather severe epigram, occurring in the Holy Scriptures, goes to show
the impossibility--even though the somewhat unsatisfactory argument of
the pestle and mortar be resorted to--of separating the same class of
people from their rather confused ideas of the fitness of things.
However, when the Mussulman, careering over Sahara, finds himself, by a
stumble of his horse, rolling in the sand, with his yataghan, pistols