(Over the platform against the wall hang the words “Merry, Merry Christmas.”  They may be simply made of dark-colored pasteboard twelve inches high, or the cardboard may be covered with red berries and evergreen.  The five children who recite in turn point to the words whenever they speak them.)

  First child:
    Oh! “merry, merry Christmas,”
      Blithely let us sing,
    And “merry, merry Christmas,”
      Let the church-bells ring. 
        Lo! the little stranger,
        Smiling in the manger
      Is the King of Kings.

  Second child:
    Oh! “merry, merry Christmas,”
      Weave in fragrant green,
    And “merry, merry Christmas,”
      In holly-berries’ sheen. 
        Opened heaven’s portals,
        That by favored mortals
      Angels might be seen.

  Third child:: 
    Oh! “merry, merry Christmas,”
      Carol bright and gay,
    For “merry, merry Christmas”
      Is the Children’s day;
        Morning stars revealing
        Shepherds humbly kneeling
      Where the Christ child lay.

  Fourth child:
    Oh! “merry, merry Christmas,”
      Day of sacred mirth;
    Oh! “merry, merry Christmas,”
      Sing the Saviour’s birth. 
        Christ, the high and holy,
        Once so meek and lowly,
      Came from heaven to earth.

  Fifth child:
    Oh! “merry, merry Christmas,”
      Shout the happy sound,
    Till “merry, merry Christmas,”
      Spreads the world around;
        Wonderful the story,
        Unto God may glory
      Evermore abound.

Carine L. Rose, in Good Housekeeping.

* * * * *

=Christmas Questions.=

BY WOLSTAN DIXEY.

    (At the three last words the speaker raises her finger
    impressively.)

  How old is Santa Claus?  Where does he keep? 
  And why does he come when I am asleep? 
  His hair is so white in the pictures I know,
  Guess he stands on his head all the time in the snow. 
  But if he does that, then why don’t he catch cold? 
  He must be as much as,—­most twenty years old. 
  I’d just like to see him once stand on his head,
  And dive down the chimney, as grandmother said. 
  Why don’t his head get all covered with black? 
  And if he comes head first, how can he get back? 
  Mamma knows about it, but she wont tell me. 
  I shall keep awake Christmas eve, then I can see. 
  I have teased her to tell me, but mamma she won’t,
  So I’ll find out myself now; see if I don’t.

* * * * *

=A Catastrophe.=

BY SUSIE M. BEST.

  If old Kriss Kringle should forget
    To travel Christmas eve,
  I tell you now, I think next day
    The little folks would grieve.