Games and frames, and comical dames
      With walnut faces wrinkled and old,
    Fillets rare for the sunny hair,
      And jewels of pearl and gold.

    For the good St. Nicholas blest this tree,
      And it blooms and bears for every one,
    With a gift of love to you and me,
      For beauty, or use, or fun.

    Poorer than any the Child whose name
      Has given a name to our Christmas-tree;
    Yet kingly gifts to his cradle came,
      And kingly gifts gave He.

GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.

DOWN THE RIVER AFTER THE BOY.

Walter Dale was a little boy six years old, who lived with his parents on the bank of the River Thames in England.  One day, after dinner, he went to the water’s edge to play.

Seeing a small boat tied to a big stone by a rope, he pulled the boat up to the shore.  “What a nice little boat!” said he.  “I will get into it, and rock it, as I once saw a big boy do.”

So he got into the boat, and began to rock it.  The boat got loose, and drifted down the river.  Walter did not notice this until he was quite a distance from the shore; then, turning round, he saw what had happened.  Every moment the current was carrying him further from home.

Walter was not a timid boy, and, instead of crying, he began to reason in this way:  “The boat does not leak.  It is safe and sound.  There are no waves to make me afraid.  The wind does not blow.  Here on a seat is a thick blanket.  In this box is a loaf of bread and a knife.  The water of the river is good to drink, and here is a tin mug.  I think I will not cry, but hope for the best.”

So he sat down.  He called to some people on the shore; but they did not hear him.  He stood up, and waved his hat to a man in a passing boat, and cried, “Help, help!” But the man thought it was some little fellow making fun of him.

Meanwhile Walter’s mother had become anxious.  She ran down to the river, and followed his foot-tracks to the edge of the water.  Then she ran back to her husband; but he was not in the house.  In about an hour he came back, and she said, “Quick, quick!  Get a boat, and call John to help you.  Walter is drifting down the river in that little green boat, I am sure.”

Mr. Dale ran out of the house, called his man John, and they went down to the bank.  Here they took a good fast boat, pulled it out into the stream, and began to row with the current.

It was getting late.  A mist was creeping over the great city of London.  They could hardly see the tall stores, the masts and steeples on one side.  But on they went, rowing swiftly with their good oars, as if for dear life.

[Illustration:  Searching for Walter.]

They looked out sharply on both sides to catch a sight of the little green boat.  At last, when they had rowed about two miles, with the tide in their favor, Mr. Dale cried out, “I see it!  I see it!  But, ah! it is empty.  I see no sign of a boy in it.  What can have become of poor Walter?”