And certain gaps in the china tea-set, some scars on the dolls’ faces, and a good many new legs, both amongst the furniture and the animals, are now the only remaining traces of Sam’s earthquake.

* * * * *

THREE CHRISTMAS TREES.

This is a story of Three Christmas Trees.  The first was a real one, but the child we are to speak of did not see it.  He saw the other two, but they were not real; they only existed in his fancy.  The plot of the story is very simple; and, as it has been described so early, it is easy for those who think it stupid to lay the book down in good time.

Probably every child who reads this has seen one Christmas tree or more; but in the small town of a distant colony with which we have to do, this could not at one time have been said.  Christmas-trees were then by no means so universal, even in England, as they now are, and in this little colonial town they were unknown.  Unknown, that is, till the Governor’s wife gave her great children’s party.  At which point we will begin the story.

The Governor had given a great many parties in his time.  He had entertained big wigs and little wigs, the passing military, and the local grandees.  Everybody who had the remotest claim to attention had been attended to:  the ladies had had their full share of balls and pleasure parties:  only one class of the population had any complaint to prefer against his hospitality; but the class was a large one—­it was the children.  However, he, was a bachelor, and knew little or nothing about little boys and girls:  let us pity rather than blame him.  At last he took to himself a wife; and among the many advantages of this important step, was a due recognition of the claims of these young citizens.  It was towards happy Christmas-tide that “the Governor’s amiable and admired lady” (as she was styled in the local newspaper) sent out notes for her first children’s party.  At the top of the note-paper was a very red robin, who carried a blue Christmas greeting in his mouth, and at the bottom—­written with A.D.C.’s best flourish—­were the magic words, A Christmas Tree.  In spite of the flourishes—­partly perhaps because of them—­the A.D.C.’s handwriting, though handsome, was rather illegible.  But for all this, most of the children invited contrived to read these words, and those who could not do so were not slow to learn the news by hearsay.  There was to be a Christmas Tree!  It would be like a birthday party, with this above ordinary birthdays, that there were to be presents for every one.  One of the children invited lived in a little white house, with a spruce fir-tree before the door.  The spruce fir did this good service to the little house, that it helped people to find their way to it; and it was by no means easy for a stranger to find his way to any given house in this little town, especially if the house were small and white, and stood in one