full, even in winter, but she does not smile upon them with such a heartful of affection as upon these, nor can those bask in the light of her merry face more freely.  As her short, round figure moves down the aisle and back, and Susie gets a good look at her, she says to herself, “Why surely this is Mrs. Santa Claus!  How glad I am!” and it is not a strange conclusion, for her figure and expression are like the poet’s description of dear Saint Nick.

Here is a girl in one of the side seats a good deal taller than her teacher.  Through the long, bright, warm summer she works in the cotton and the corn, alongside of father, brothers, uncles, men and women, boys and girls.  Her hands are enlarged and roughened with toil, but she is taking pains to learn how to do this useful indoor work skillfully too.

There is a goodly company of these larger girls, but Susie does not feel any more afraid of them, nor of “the middle-sized bears and the wee tiny, small bears” than did little Silverhair in the nursery tale.  She doubts, however, if these largest ones have not laid aside dollies, and thinks she must look among the “leaster” ones for the little step-mother who will respect her own little Fay-mother’s request to “take good care of her.”  But when the sewing-lesson is ended and she notices one and another bring to light a little dollie-daughter to hug in her arms as she walks homeward, and sees the sociable interest of all the rest, she feels no further doubt about the mother-love in all these little Southern bosoms and resigns all care as to which one shall be hers, leaving the whole question to Mrs. Santa Claus.

Perhaps some day we may call upon her when she is fully domesticated in her new home.  There will not be many comforts and conveniences in that home.  Possibly when we ask for Susie, her mamma will draw a little old box from under the head of her bed, as once when I called upon one of these little girls and asked her if she had a doll.  It had lost some of its limbs and it was dressed in odds and ends, tacked together by the untaught little mother, but when I set the dollie on my knee and pretended to drink tea out of one of the tiny toy cups set forth from the same treasure-box, you could not find a more hilarious little mamma anywhere, though you should pick out one with all nursery stores at her command.

* * * * *

 A LETTER FROM ONE OF OUR INDIAN PUPILS IN NEBRASKA.

SANTEE AGENCY, NEB.

Dear Eastern Friends:—­We have had five good prayer meetings during two weeks, and I am very glad to tell you dear friends that some of our school-mates said they will try and do as God wants them to do.  And some pray who never did before.  No words can tell how I felt one evening {110} after we came home from meeting.  Just before I went up stairs I asked the Matron if I could talk Dakota to tell my room-mate about the meeting.  The subject