There wouldn’t be a single toy,
    A single box or book,
  And not a bit of candy in
    Their stockings when they’d look

  Because, you see, Kriss Kringle has
    A “corner” on these things,
  ’Tis he, and he alone, who in
    The night our presents brings.

  Then let us all try to avert
    This sad catastrophe,
  And hope Kriss Kringle may at least
    Remember you and me.

* * * * *

=A Christmas Gift.=

By MABEL L. PRAY.

  It seems that dear old Santa Claus
    One day in old November
  Received a note from Dottie D—­,
    With words and phrases tender,
  In which she asked the dear old man
    With many words of warning,
  To bring her a new Paris doll
    On the next Christmas morning.

  Just as he started for his sleigh
    One eve, in old December,
  He turned to Mistress Santa Claus
    And said, “Did you remember
  About that fine new Paris doll
    For wee Dot in the city? 
  I must not fail to take that gift,
    ’Twould be a dreadful pity.”

  It was early in the morning,
    One day in old December;
  A very happy, joyous day
    That children all remember,
  When Santa, on his mission fleet,
    To the nursery came creeping,
  And left the fine new Paris doll
    Among the others, sleeping.

  The holly and the mistletoe
    Were bright this winter morning;
  One stocking filled from top to toe
    The mantel was adorning. 
  A Christmas tree hung full with gifts,
    While underneath, reposing
  On an upholstered rocking chair,
    The Paris doll was dozing.

  Then suddenly from out the gloom
    Dot’s other dolls came peeping,
  Their hair uncombed, their dresses torn,
    And noses red with weeping;
  They talked in whispers soft and low,
    But tones that grew quite scornful,
  About the fate that was to greet
    This stranger, sad and mournful.

  There were Annabel and Bessie,
    That came one cold December;
  They hobbled round with broken backs
    From falling on the fender. 
  Then Tommy, Grace, and baby Ruth,
    All came one birthday party,
  And Rose and Don a year ago,
    With Santa Claus so hearty.

  They all assembled round the tree,
    And then with manners shocking
  They pinched and shook the Paris doll,
    And cried in words so mocking—­
  “Why, don’t you know, you stupid thing,
    Dot won’t care for another,
  She has received this Christmas morn
    A dear, sweet baby brother!”

* * * * *

=A Christmas Thought.=

    (To be recited with careful regard to smoothness, without a
    sing-song effect.)