HOW THE LEAVES CAME DOWN.

I'll tell you how the leaves came down.
The great tree to his children said,
"You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown,-
Yes, very sleepy, little Red;

It is quite time you went to bed."

"Ah!" begged each silly, pouting leaf,

"Let us a little longer stay;

Dear Father Tree, behold our grief,

"Tis such a very pleasant day,

We do not want to go away.'

;

Come, children, all to bed," he cried
And ere the leaves could urge their prayer
He shook his head, and far and wide,
Fluttering and rustling everywhere,
Down sped the leaflets through the air.

I saw them; on the ground they lay,
Golden and red, a huddled swarm,
Waiting till one from far away,

White bedclothes heaped upon her arm,
Should come to wrap them safe and warm.
-Susan Coolidge.

Copyright by Roberts Bros.

Norway is a land far away.
Grain grows in Norway.

Bread is made from the grain.

Sometimes they do not gather all the grain.

A few stalks are left in the field.

The children run out to the field.

They gather all the stalks that are left.
They put them away till Christmas.

It is very cold at Christmas time.
The ground is covered with snow.
The birds cannot find much to eat.

On Christmas morning the children get

the grain.

Sometimes they put it on the roof.

Sometimes they hang it over the door.
Then the birds come.

They come from the north and the south.
They come from the east and the west.
They are glad to have the grain.
It is their Christmas present.

It is their Christmas dinner, too.
The birds sing to the children.

That is the way they say thank you.

That is the way they show their happi

ness.

"And which are the happiest, truly,

It would be hard to tell;

The sparrows who share in the Christ

mas cheer,

Or the children who love them well?"

THE SPARROWS.

Through all the land the children
In the golden fields remain,

Till their busy little hands have gleaned
A generous sheaf of grain.

All the stalks, by the reapers forgotten,
They glean to the very least,

And save till the cold December,
For the sparrows' Christmas feast.

Of a sudden, the day before Christmas,
The twittering crowds arrive,

And the bitter wintry air at once,
With their chirping, is all alive.

On the joyous Christmas morning,

In front of every door,

A tall pole, crowned with clustering grain,

Is set the birds before.

And which are the happiest, truly,

It would be hard to tell;

The sparrows who share in the Christmas cheer,

Or the children who love them well.

-Celia Thaxter.