“Joe, won’t you unpack that box now, to gratify us all?” said Mr. Parker, as Joe put the box on one side, nodded to Emilie, and began his breakfast.  No, Joe could not oblige him.  Evening came at last, and the Christmas tree was found to bear rich fruit.  From many a little sparkling pendant branch hung offerings for Joe; poor Joe, who thought no one in the world cared for him.  He lay on his reclining chair looking happier and brighter than usual, but as the gifts poured into his lap, gifts so evidently the offspring of tenderness and affection, so numerous, and so adapted to his condition, his countenance assumed a more serious and thoughtful cast.  Every cue gave him something.  There is no recounting the useful and pretty, if not costly, articles that Joe became possessor of.  A beautiful tartan wrapper for his feet, from Mrs. Parker; a reading desk and book from Mr. Parker; a microscope from John and Fred; a telescope from Emilie and Edith; some beautiful knitted socks from aunt Agnes; a pair of Edith and Fred’s very best canaries.

When his gifts were arranged on his new table, a beautifully made table, ordered for him by Mr. Parker, and exactly adapted to his prostrate condition, and Joe saw every one’s looks directed towards him lovingly, and finally received a lovely white camellia blossom from Edith’s hand, he turned his face aside upon the sofa pillow and buried it in his hands.  What could be the matter with him? asked Mrs. Parker, tenderly.  Had any one said any thing to wound or vex him?  “Oh no! no! no!” What was it then? was he overcome with the heat of the room?  “No, oh no!” but might he be wheeled into the dining room, he asked?  Mr. Parker consented, of course, but aunt Agnes was sure he was ill.  “Take him some salvolatile, Emilie, at once.”

“No aunt,” said Emilie, “he will be better without that, he is only overcome.”

“And is not that just the very thing I was saying, Emilie, child, give him some camphor julep then; camphor julep is a very reviving thing doctor!  Mr. Parker, won’t you give him something to revive him.”

“I think,” said Emilie, who understood his emotion and guessed its cause, “I think he will be better alone.  His spirits are weak, owing to illness, I would not disturb him.”

“Come,” said Mrs. Parker, “let us look at the tree, its treasures are not half exhausted.”  Wonderful to say, although Joe had given his purse to Emilie for the adornment of the tree, there still were presents for every one from him; and what was yet more surprising to those who knew that Joe had not naturally much delicacy of feeling or much consideration for others, each present was exactly the thing that each person liked and wished for.  But John was the most astonished with his share; it was a beautiful case of mathematical instruments, such a case as all L——­ and all the county of Hampshire together could not produce; a case which Joe had bought for himself in London, and on which he greatly prided himself.  John had seen and admired it, and Joe gave this prized, cherished case to John—­his enemy John.  “It must be intended for you Fred,” said John, after a minute’s consideration; “but no, here is my name on it.”