"Oh, come, all ye faithful,Joyful and triumphant;Oh, come ye, oh, come yeTo Bethlehem!Come and behold himBorn the King of angels;Oh, come let us adore him,Christ the Lord!"
Snow-shoeingis one of the national sports of Canada, in which most Canadians, big and little, are proficient. Marjorie and her cousin were no exception to the rule, and Jackie proved a very apt pupil. He soon learned to avoid striking one snow-shoe against the other, and fell quickly into that long, easy swing, which makes the snowy miles go by so quickly. Sometimes the three children tramped on the broad, frozen river, but that was a cold place when there was any wind, so they generally chose the hill-roads or the woods. Nothing, Dora thought, could be more beautiful than those woods in winter, with the white drifts around the grayish tree-trunks, the firs and hemlocks rising like green islands out of asnowy sea, and the wonderful tracery of brown boughs against the pale blue of the sky. Once, Mr. and Mrs. Merrithew went with them for a moonlight tramp, and that was something never to be forgotten.
three children snowshoeing"NOTHING, DORA THOUGHT, COULD BE MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN THOSE WOODS IN WINTER"
It was just after a heavy snowfall, and the evergreens were weighed down with a white covering that sparkled and glittered as with innumerable jewels. Another favourite amusement was coasting,—not tobogganing, but good, old-fashioned coasting, generally on College Hill, but sometimes down the steep bank of the river. Coasting parties were frequent, and it was a pretty sight to see the hill dotted with blanket-coated and toqued or tam-o'-shantered figures, and pleasant to hear the merry voices and laughter as the sleds skimmed swiftly down the road.
The winters in Eastern Canada, though cold, are wonderfully bright and clear, and the air is so free from dampness that one doesnot realize how cold it sometimes becomes, unless one consults the thermometer. Canadians, as a rule, spend a great deal of time in the open air in winter as well as summer, and are as hardy a race as can be found anywhere, but when theyareindoors they like their houses good and warm,—no half-measures, no chilly passages and draughty bedrooms for them!
Mr. Merrithew did not keep horses, but occasionally he would hire a big three-seated sleigh and take the family for a delightful spin. They would all be warmly wrapped in woollens and furs, and snuggled in buffalo-robes; the bells would jingle merrily, the snow would "skreak" under the horses' feet, and the white world slip by them like a dream.
One day, about the middle of February, Mrs. Merrithew announced, at breakfast, that it was high time for the drive to Hemlock Point, which Mr. Merrithew had been promisingthem all winter. As the latter quite agreed with this idea, they decided to go on the following morning, spend a long day with the friends they always visited there, and return by moonlight. Hemlock Point was somewhere between ten and twenty miles up-river,—it does not always do to be too exact,—and their friends lived in a quaint old farmhouse, on high ground, well back from the river-bank.
That evening, when they sat in the Den after lessons were done, Marjorie told Dora about the good folk who lived there,—an old bachelor farmer, the most kind-hearted and generous of men, but as bashful as a boy; his two unmarried sisters, who managed his house and thought they managed him, but really spoilt him to his heart's content; and an orphan niece, who had lived with them for several years, and who was the only modern element in their lives. She graphically described the old loom, the big and little spinning-wheels,and the egg-shell china, till Dora was as anxious as Jackie for to-morrow to come.
The three-seated sleigh and the prancing horses were at the door of the Big Brick House by eight the next morning, for the drive would be long and the load heavy, and it was well to be early on the way. The girls and Jackie wore their blanket-suits,—Dora's and Jackie's crimson and Marjorie's bright blue,—and Mrs. Merrithew herself, snugly wrapped in furs, brought a grand supply of extra cloaks and shawls. She was always prepared for any emergency. Mr. Merrithew said that he never knew her fail to produce pins, rope, a knife, and hammer and nails, if they were needed. But the hammer and nails she repudiated, and said it was twine, not rope, she carried! The sky was a little overcast when they started, but the prospect of a snow-storm did not daunt them in the least.
The bells, of which there were a great many on the harness, kept up a musical, silvery accompaniment to the conversation, as the horses swung at a good speed along the level. When the hills began to rise, the pace slackened, and the passengers had a better chance to enjoy the beauties spread on both sides of the road.
"But oh, you ought to see it in summer!" Marjorie said, when Dora praised the varied and lovely landscapes. "There are so many things yet for you to see all around here. You will have to stay two or three years more at least!"
But Dora laughed at this.
"What about all the things there are for you to see in Montreal?" she said. "What about the Ice Palace, and—"
"Please tell about the Ice Palace, Dora," Jack interrupted. "That must be a gorlious sight!"
So Dora tried to give her cousins some idea of the great palace of glittering ice, and the hundreds of snow-shoers, in bright costumes and carrying torches, gathered together to storm this fairylike fortress.
"It must be fine," said Marjorie, when the story was done, "but I'd rather storm Hemlock Point, and get fried chicken and buttermilk as the spoils of war."
Marjorie, being a tremendous home-girl, generally tried to change the subject if Dora made any allusions to a possible visit of Marjorie alone to Montreal. She could not bear the thought of parting with Dora, but to part with mother and Daddy and Jack would be three times worse!
The last part of the road was decidedly hilly, and the horses took such advantage of Mr. Merrithew's consideration for their feelings, that Jackie, lulled by the slow motion and the sound of the bells, fell asleep againsthis mother's shoulder, and knew no more till he woke on a couch in Miss Grier's sitting-room. The oldest Miss Grier—whom every one called Miss Prudence—was bustling about, helping Marjorie and Dora off with their things, and giving advice to Miss Alma, who was hastening to start a fire in the great old-fashioned Franklin. Miss Dean, the niece, was taking off Mrs. Merrithew's overboots, in spite of her polite protests. Jackie's eyes were open for some moments before any one noticed him; then he startled them by saying, in perfectly wide-awake tones:
"I think, Miss Lois Dean, you are the very littlest lady in the world!"
Miss Dean, who certainly could not well be smaller and be called grown-up at all, and whose small head was almost weighted down by its mass of light hair, looked at her favourite with twinkling eyes.
"Never mind, Jackie, the best goods areoften done up in small parcels; and I'm big enough to hold you on my lap while I tell you stories, which is the main thing, isn't it?"
"Yes, indeed," Jack cried, jumping up to hug her, which resulted in the pretty hair getting loosened from its fastenings and tumbling in wild confusion around the "littlest lady," where she sat on the floor.
"Now you are a fairy godmother! Now you are a fairy godmother!" exclaimed Jackie, dancing around her.
"Then I will put a charm upon you at once," Lois said. "No more dancing, no more noise, no moreanything, until we get the wraps all off and put away; then you and I will go and—fry chicken—and sausages—for dinner!"
The last part of the sentence was whispered in Jack's ear, and caused him to smile contentedly, and to submit without a murmur to the process of unwrapping.
After dinner,—which did great credit to Lois and her assistant,—they gathered around the Franklin in the sitting-room, with plates of "sops-of-wine" and golden pippins within easy reach, and Mr. Grier and Mr. Merrithew talked farming and politics, while Miss Prudence recounted any episodes of interest that had taken place at or near Hemlock Point during the past year.
Mrs. Merrithew, who had spent her summers here as a girl, knew every one for miles around, and loved to hear the annals of the neighbourhood, told in Miss Prudence's picturesque way, with an occasional pithy comment from Miss Alma.
Dora sat, taking in with eager eyes the view of hill and intervale, island and ice-bound river; then turning back to the cosey interior, with its home-made carpet, bright curtains, and large bookcase with glass doors.
After a little while Lois, who saw that thechildren were growing weary of sitting still, proposed a stroll through the house, to which they gladly consented. Katherine asked if she might go with them, and they left "the enchanted circle around the fire," and crossed the hall to the "best parlour,"—which Miss Prudence always wished to throw open in Mrs. Merrithew's honour, and which the latter always refused to sit in, because, as she frankly said, it gave her the shivers. This was not on account of any ill-taste in the furnishing, but because it was always kept dark and shut up, and Mrs. Merrithew said it could not be made cheery all of a sudden. The children, however, loved the long room, and the mysterious feeling it gave them when they first went in, and had to grope their way to the windows, draw back the curtains, and put up the yellow Venetian blinds, letting the clear, wintry light into this shadowy domain. This light brought out the rich, dark colours of thecarpet, and showed the treasures of chairs and tables that would have made a collector's mouth water. There was a round table of polished mahogany in the centre of the room, a tiny butternut sewing-table in one corner, and against the wall, on opposite sides of the room, two rosewood tables, with quaint carved legs, and feet of shining brass. On the tables lay many curious shells, big lumps of coral, and rare, many-coloured seaweeds,—for there had been a sailor-uncle in the family,—annuals and beauty-books in gorgeous bindings, albums through which the children looked with never-failing delight, work-boxes and portfolios inlaid with mother-of-pearl; almost all the treasures of the family, in fact, laid away here in state, like Jean Ingelow's dead year, "shut in a sacred gloom."
When this room had been inspected and admired, they lowered the blinds, drew the curtains, and left it again to its solitude. Therest of the house was much less awe-inspiring, but it was all delightful. The loom, now seldom or never used, stood in one corner of the kitchen. Not far away was the big spinning-wheel. Miss Dean tried to teach them to spin, and when they found it was not so easy as it looked, gave them a specimen of how it should be done that seemed almost magical. There is, indeed, something that suggests magic about spinning,—the rhythmically stepping figure, the whirling brown wheel, the rolls of wool, changed by a perfectly measured twirl and pull into lengths of snow-white yarn, and the soothing, drowsy hum, the most restful sound that labour can produce.
Then there was the up-stairs to visit. The chief thing of interest there was the tiny flax-wheel which stood in the upper hall, and which certainly looked, as Jack said, as ifitought to belong to a fairy godmother. In the attic,great bunches of herbs hung drying from the rafters, and the air was sweet with the scent of them. There were sage, summer-savoury, sweet marjoram, sweet basil, mint, and many more, with names as fragrant as their leaves. On the floor, near one of the chimneys, was spread a good supply of butternuts, and strings of dried apples stretched from wall to wall at the coolest end of the one big room.
"If I lived in this house," Dora said, "I would come up here often and write,—try to write, I mean!"
"I come up here often and read," Miss Dean said, with a quick glance of comprehension at the little girl's eager face. "I love it! And sometimes, when I feel another way and it's not too cold, I put up one blind in the best parlour, and sit in there."
"I wish you were coming down to sit in mother's den, and read—and talk—andeverything!" said Marjorie, and the others echoed the wish.
"So I am, some time or other," Lois answered. "Mrs. Merrithew has asked me, and now it's just a question of how soon Aunt Prudence can spare me. That may be next week,—or it may be next winter!"
"It may be for years and it may be for ever," Dora quoted, laughing, and Jackie added, "and then—when you do come—we will make you a Son and Daughter of Canada right away!"
The search for the egg-shell china took them back to the sitting-room, where Lois begged Miss Prudence to exhibit this most fragile of her belongings. With natural pride, that lady unlocked a china-closet, and brought out specimens of the beautiful delicate ware which their grandmother had brought over with her from Ireland, and of which, in all these years, only three articles had beenbroken. It certainly was exquisite stuff, delicately thin, of a rich cream-colour, and with gilt lines and tiny wreaths of pink and crimson roses.
"I thought we would have them out for tea," Miss Alma suggested, but Mrs. Merrithew, with three children, all rather hasty in their movements, to look after, begged her not to think of such a thing.
"Your white and gold china is pretty enough for any one;" she said, "and, my dear Prudence, if you are determined to give us tea after that big dinner, we will have to ask for it soon, or we will be spending most of the night on the road."
"Dear, dear!" said Miss Prudence, putting back her treasures tenderly, "it does seem as if you'd been here about half an hour, and I do hate to have you go! But I know how you feel about being out late with the children, and you won't stay all night. Come along,Alma, let's hustle up some tea, and let Lois talk to Mrs. Merrithew awhile."
And "hustle" they certainly did, spreading a board that groaned with the good old-fashioned dainties, for the cooking of which Miss Prudence was noted throughout the country. Then the horses were brought to the door, tossing their heads in haste to be off, wraps were snugly adjusted, good-byes said many times, and they were off.
"I believe Grier has given these horses nothing but oats all day," Mr. Merrithew muttered, as the pretty beasts strained and tugged in their anxiety to run down-hill; but when it came to the up-hill stretches, they soon sobered down, and were content with a reasonable pace. Warm and cosey, nestled against his mother, Jackie soon slept as before; but the others, with rather a reckless disregard of their throats, sang song after song,in spite of the frosty air, and dashed up to the door of the Big Brick House, at last, to the sound of:
"'Twas from Aunt Dinah's quilting partyI was seeing Nellie home."
Toinvalids, or to the really destitute, Canadian winters, clear and bright though they are, may seem unduly long; but for our little Canadian Cousins, warmly clad, warmly housed, and revelling in the season's healthful sports, the months went by as if on wings. With March, though the winds were strong, the sun began to show his power, and by the middle of the month the sap was running, and the maple-sugar-making had begun. Jackie persuaded his father to take him out one morning to the woods, and to help him tap a number of trees. When they went back later and collected the tin cups which they had left under the holes in the trees, they found altogether about a pint of sap. This they tookcarefully home, and Jack persuaded every one to taste it, then boiled the remainder until it thickened a little,—a very little, it is true,—and the family manfully ate it with their muffins for tea, though Mrs. Merrithew declared that she believed they had tapped any tree they came across, instead of keeping to sugar-maples.
Toward the end of the month Mrs. Grey got up a driving-party to one of the sugar-camps, and though it was chiefly for grown people, Mrs. Merrithew allowed Dora and Marjorie to go. The drive was long, and rather tiring, as the roads were beginning to get "slumpy," and here and there would come a place where the runners scraped bare ground. But when they reached the camp they were given a hearty welcome, allowed to picnic in the camp-house, and treated to unlimited maple-syrup, sugar, and candy.
The process of sugar-making has lost muchof its picturesqueness, since the more convenient modern methods have come into use. Mrs. Grey remembered vividly when there were no camp-houses, with their big furnaces and evaporating pans, and no little metal "spiles" to conduct the sap from the trees to the tins beneath. In those days the spiles, about a foot in length, were made of cedar, leading to wooden troughs,—which, she maintained, gave the juice an added and delicious flavour. But this their host of the sugar-camp would not admit, though he agreed with her that the process of boiling must have been much more interesting to watch when it was done in big cauldrons hung over bonfires in the snowy woods. When the visitors left camp, each one carried a little bark dish (called a "cosseau") of maple-candy, presented by the owner of the camp, and most of them had bought quantities of the delicious fresh sugar.
April brought soft breezes, warmer sunshine and melting snow. It seemed to Dora that people thought of scarcely anything but the condition of the ice, and the quantity of snow in the woods. Then they began to say that there would be a freshet, and Debby, who was apt to forebode the worst, announced that the bridges would go this time, sure! Mr. Merrithew only laughed when Marjorie asked him about it, and said that this prophecy had been made every year since the bridges were built, and that there was no more danger this year than any other. But Mrs. Merrithew, though she could not be said to worry, still quietly decided what things she would carry with her in case of a flight to the hills! The freshet which was talked about so much was, in spite of Mr. Merrithew's laughter, a remote possibility; certainly not a probability. In his own and Mrs. Merrithew's youth, it had been so imminent that people actuallyhadgone to thehills. A tremendous jam had been formed a few miles above town; but a few days of hot sun had opened the river farther down, and the danger had passed. Since the two bridges, however, had been built, some people thought that there was a chance of the ice jamming above the upper bridge. Usually the worst jams were between the islands, not far above town.
Each day some fresh word was brought in as to the river's condition. "The River St. John is like a sick person, isn't it?" Dora said one afternoon. "The first thing every one says in the morning is, 'I wonder how the river is to-day.'"
The words were scarcely out of her mouth when Mr. Merrithew came in hastily, calling out:
"Come, people, if you want to see the ice go out. The jam by Vine Island is broken. Come quick. It's piling up finely!"
In a very few minutes the whole family answered to his summons, and they set out in great excitement to watch their dear river shake off its fetters. They made their way quickly to the wooden bridge, and found a good share of the population of Fredericton there assembled. It was truly a sight well worth going to see. Below the bridge the dark water was running swiftly, bearing blocks of ice, bits of board, and logs,—indeed, a fine medley of things. Butabovethe bridge! Jackie clapped his hands with delight, as he watched the ice, pushed by the masses behind it, throw itself against the mighty stone piers, and break and fall back, while the bridge quivered afresh at each onslaught. It was truly grand to see, and they stayed watching it for more than an hour; stayed till Jackie began to shiver, and Mrs. Merrithew hurried them home.
By the next morning the river was rapidly clearing, so that some reckless spirits venturedto cross in boats and canoes, dodging the ice-cakes with skill worthy to be employed in a better cause. In a day or two more the deep whistle of the river-boat was heard; a sound that brings summer near, though not a leaf be on the trees. But it was not until the ice had entirely ceased running, and the river had begun to go down, that really warm weather could begin, for, until then, there was always a chill air from the water.
But after that,—ah, then spring came in earnest, with balmy airs and singing birds, pussy-willows, silver gray, beside the brooks, and little waterfalls laughing down the hills. Then came the greening fields, the trees throwing deeper shadows, and the Mayflowers, pink and pearly and perfect, hiding under their own leaves in damp woodland hollows! The children made many excursions to gather these fragrant blooms, and kept quantities of them in the Den until the season was over.It would be hard, Mrs. Merrithew thought, to find anything more lovely, and to show how thoroughly she appreciated their attention, she made for each child a little Mayflower picture in water-colours. In Marjorie's the flowers were in a large blue bowl, on a table covered with an old-blue cloth; for Jackie she painted them in a dainty shallow basket, just as he had brought them from the woods; and for Dora there was a shadowy green bit of the woodland itself, and a few of the braver blossoms just showing among leaves and moss.
Oncemore the lilacs were in blossom in the garden of the Big Brick House. The blackbirds called and chuckled in the lofty branches of the elms, and robins hopped about the lawns, seemingly with the express purpose of tantalizing Kitty Grey. On the lawn, where the hammocks hung, a happy group was gathered. Mr. and Mrs. Merrithew were there, Marjorie and Dora, Katherine and Jack, and two others who evidently formed the centre of attraction. Of these, one was a tall, thin man, with a frame that must once have been athletic, and a pathetic stoop in the broad shoulders. He sat in a deep armchair, with Dora contentedly nestled on his knee. In a hammock near him sat a lady, with a dark, lovely face, beautifully arched brows, and softeyes, so like Dora's that a stranger might have guessed their relationship.
Mr. Carman, though still an invalid, was wonderfully better, and both he and his wife were full of praises of the great, beautiful West, its scenery, its climate, and its possibilities.
"I have come to the conclusion," Mr. Carman said, after an enthusiastic description of a sunset in the Rocky Mountains, "that it is no wonder we Canadians are proud of our country."
"Then you and Aunt Denise shall be 'Sons and Daughters,'" cried Jackie, "and you can read a paper about the West at our very next meeting. Thatwillbe fine!"
And Uncle Archie and Aunt Denise were accepted then and there as members of the S. A. D. O. C.
The travellers had only arrived the day before, so there was still much to ask and tell;but Dora and her parents had already had a long talk as to plans and prospects, and the little girl was radiant with delight over the arrangements that were decided upon. Marjorie, who could not help being a little cast down at the prospect of a separation from her cousin, wondered that Dora did not seem to mind at all. But when, by and by, they strolled off together to the grape-arbour for a talk, she understood the reason of this cheerfulness.
"I want to tell you all about our plans," Dora began, as soon as they were seated in their favourite nook. "You see, mother says that dear father, though he is certainly better, won't be able to work for a long, long time. Next winter they will probably go to Barbadoes, where some friends of mother's are living; and if they do, I am to stay with youall winteragain,—if you will have me, Marjorie! Your mother saysshewill!"
"Haveyou!" Marjorie exclaimed. "Oh, but I am glad! I don't know what I will do without you all summer, but it is fine to know that at least we will have the winter together."
Then Dora burst into a peal of laughter, and clapped her hands over the news that she had to tell.
"Oh, I've got the best to tell you yet," she said. "Father and mother have quite decided to stayhere, in Fredericton, all summer! They want to rent a furnished house, just as close to this one as they possibly can; and then we will be together almost every minute, just as we are now.Won'tit be lovely?"
Marjorie sat quiet for a minute, and thought it over with shining eyes. Then she gave Dora a regular "bear-hug," and cried:
"I feel just like Jackie does when he dances a war-dance! I was going to say that it was too good to be true, but mother says she doesn't like that saying, for there is nothingtoo good to come true sometime, if it isn't already. Come and tell Jack and Aunt Kathie, quick! They will be almost as glad as I am!"
So these little Canadian Cousins went hand in hand down the garden-path, full of happy thoughts of the long bright summer days that spread before them.
THE END.
The most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, and adventures.
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The Little Colonel.(Trade Mark)
The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family are famous in the region.
The Giant Scissors.
This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with her the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the "Holidays."
Two Little Knights of Kentucky.
Who Were the Little Colonel's Neighbors.
In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights."
Mildred's Inheritance.
A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by her beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one.
Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.
The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young people.
Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.
A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys and most girls.
Big Brother.
A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale.
Ole Mammy's Torment.
"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.
The Story of Dago.
In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing.
The Quilt That Jack Built.
A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the course of his life many years after it was accomplished.
Flip's Islands of Providence.
A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph, well worth the reading.
By EDITH ROBINSON
A Little Puritan's First Christmas.
A Story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam.
A Little Daughter of Liberty.
The author introduces this story as follows:
"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another ride,—the ride of Anthony Severn,—which was no less historic in its action or memorable in its consequences."
A Loyal Little Maid.
A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George Washington.
A Little Puritan Rebel.
This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.
A Little Puritan Pioneer.
The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at Charlestown.
A Little Puritan Bound Girl.
A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to youthful readers.
A Little Puritan Cavalier.
The story of a "Little Puritan Cavalier" who tried with all his boyish enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead Crusaders.
A Puritan Knight Errant.
The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who endeavored to carry out the high ideals of the knights of olden days.
By OUIDA(Louise de la Ramée)
A Dog of Flanders:A Christmas Story.
Too well and favorably known to require description.
The Nurnberg Stove.
This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price.
By FRANCES MARGARET FOX
The Little Giant's Neighbours.
A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden.
Farmer Brown and the Birds.
A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best friends.
Betty of Old Mackinaw.
A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little readers who like stories of "real people."
Brother Billy.
The story of Betty's brother, and some further adventures of Betty herself.
Mother Nature's Little Ones.
Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors.
How Christmas Came to the Mulvaneys.
A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, with an unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. The wonderful never-to-be forgotten Christmas that came to them is the climax of a series of exciting incidents.
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Transcriber's Note:Obvious punctuation errors repaired.