stmas," he repeated over and over again as he
drew on his clothes.

Then for a tiptoed scamper down the stairs for a view of the surprises
which were awaiting him in the hall below.

A scent of pine, reminiscent of the sweet-scented Michigan forests, made
him sniff eagerly. There towered the tree on the spot where its
predecessors had stood in front of the fireplace, so tall that the tip
barely missed the ceiling. Gleaming spheres caught the light from the
stair window in brilliant contrast with the dark, needled depths.
Cornucopias, candy laden, weighted the boughs. Sugar chains made
symmetrical festoons of beads as they looped down from the upper
branches, and innumerable candles stood stiffly in their holders,
waiting for the taper in his father's hand to bring them to life.

Underneath the tree lay his presents. Not so many, perhaps, oh, sons of
richer parents, as you may have had, but John's eyes grew wider and
wider with delight as each object greeted him.

There lay the sled, long, low and scarlet, not as ornate as the
expensive "Black Beauty," for which he had longed, but quite as
serviceable. At the terminal of a railway system which encircled the
tree base, stood a queer, foreign mechanical engine, with an abbreviated
passenger car, and on a corner of the sheet which was to protect the
carpet from candle drip, was a dry battery and diminutive electric
motor. Then there were books--Optics, The Rover Boys, and others of
their ilk--which would furnish recreation for months to come, regardless
of his rapid reading.

Of course he turned the switch and listened to the hum of the little
motor until the battery threatened to be exhausted; of course the
railway was put into immediate and repeated operation, regardless of the
noise which might awaken his parents. And he stood up, at least three
times, sled pressed tightly against his chest, and made imaginary dashes
down the park toboggan, outspeeding even the long bobsleds as the ice
flew beneath him. Then he glanced at the title pages of the books again
and even read a page or two from each opening chapter that he might know
which would have the honor of being chosen for first consumption by his
hungry mind. Finally, he stretched out on his back beneath the tree and
gazed upward, watching each glistening detail in utter content.

Voices upstairs told John that his parents had wakened at last. Up the
winding flight as fast as his little legs could carry him, and