The other chickens were delighted; it would be very pleasant to go out into the fields by themselves; and they ruffled out their feathers, and made themselves as large as they could. The old hen, who was not very far off, heard all that they said, but made no remark. Presently the stable door was opened, 66 Now," said Flutter. And in another moment Flutter and half a dozen of the other chickens were straggling across the farmyard. But the sights and sounds to which they were unaccustomed confused and bewildered them; everything looked so large, and the geese and turkeys made so much noise and looked so fierce that even Flutter felt he should not be sorry to be in the stable again. But, alas! he did not know the way back again, and as for the others, they began to cry out lustily for their mother to help them. your way! I thought from your grand manner of talking that you knew everything; and now for all I see we shall be trampled down or eaten up by some of these fierce creatures." "Oh! oh! oh!" shrieked Speckle, as a great gander hissed and flapped his wings close by her. "Oh! oh! oh! we shall all be killed!" cried the chickens in chorus. "You stupid things," said a young bantam cock, "who's going to kill you? But you deserve a good fright for running away from home." Just then the hen, who had followed her naughty chickens, gave a motherly cluck, which the frightened creatures heard with joy, and forthwith flew to her for protection. Even Flutter was very thankful to find himself under the shadow of her wings. He hung his head and felt somewhat ashamed of himself as the old They also began to reproach Flutter for leading hen said to himthem into danger. "You a leader!" said Twitter, "and not know "Ah, Flutter! it is very easy to talk, but it is not so easy to act. And this I hope you'll not forget." LITTLE PAUL AND FATHER HE happy time came round once more When angel hosts to shepherds sang. Small feet went pattering on the floor, Low laughter through the chamber rang. For little Paul, with stealthy glee, While yet the wintry dawn Had stolen from out his bed to see With tangled curls and shoulders bare, That, cautiously, the night before, He hid his shoe for baby foot, And, very sure that none were by, Yes! there it was; his heart grew warm. CHRISTMAS. A grand field-marshal's uniform ! How well the gold and scarlet showed! A letter folded up with care. Equipp'd, Paul hurries back to bed; THE LETTER. "My Paul,-the Baby born to-day So many, many, years gone by Knows all that children do or say E'en in the dark when none are nigh! He saw you change your own blue shoe For that big boot at eventide ; So what Old Christmas wished to do Was just to put a rod inside. But swift your guardian angel came, And stooping down with tender pain, Promised, white wings adroop for shame, That Paul should never cheat again." Then little Paul took off his sword Laid by the plume that proudly swept : Unloos'd the sash without a wordAnd, blushing, hid his face and wept. C. E. MEETKERKE. UCH a merry Christmas surely no one ever had as the children up at Rookwood. They were quite a party in themselvesfive golden-haired little girls, and Philip, the only boy, a fine, brave, bonny lad of ten, who gave himself a great many airs, especially over Susie and Agnes, the twin, and baby Madge - Katie and Mamie were better able to hold their own. Christmas was always a marvellous time at Rookwood. Mr. and Mrs. Deane were never tired of planning surprises; and, besides, Uncle John always came down from London at Christmas-time, and that fact was in itself enough to drive the children fairly wild with delight. It was Christmas Eve when he came, and they were all gathered round him-some on his knee, some on the arm of his chair, and the twin carefully examining his pockets. Outside, the snow was coming down in soft, feathery flakes that froze almost as fast as they fell; the ground was hard and wrinkled, and a keen north wind swept through the tall pines where the rooks lived, making melancholy music. But indoors everything was bright and cheery. A glorious wood fire blazed on the wide hearth and shone merrily on the wreaths of glossy ivy and crimson-berried holly; while the shadows ran up and down the drawn curtains, leaped and danced on the polished wainscot, and from that to the bright frames of the pictures, and rested last of all on the fair heads and eager faces of the children as they clustered round Uncle John, and begged for just one halfhour longer to sit up. "I am afraid it will not do," he said, shaking his head gravely. "It's all very well to sit up and eat plum cake and mince pies, and be kissed under the mistletoe; but you young people seem to forget that a certain Mr. Santa Claus is expected to visit Rookwood to-night, and he positively objects to enter the house till all the little folk are asleep." "Does Santa Claus really come, Uncle John?" Phil asked. "Why, of course; don't you remember all the beautiful things he brought us last year?" Katie cried. "Come along, Mamie, and let us put up our stockings first. Why, he never forgot to come yet, Uncle John, did he ?—now, do tell me truly." "Not to Rookwood, I think, Kitsie; and I feel sure he will pay you a visit to-night if you shut your eyes and go to sleep; so now good-night all. One, two, three, and away." "Jane, wherever shall we hang our stockings?" Katie cried, when they got to the nursery. "Uncle John says Santa Claus is surely coming, and if we hang them on our cots, he mayn't see them, you know." "I'll put them where he can't help finding them," Jane replied; and then she got a piece of very strong cord, and put a line right across the nursery. "There, Miss Katie, isn't that a good place? Now give me the stockings, and let me fasten them on." Presently there were twelve pretty woollen stockings, long and short, dangling from the line, for Philip had come from his own little room with his. Though he pretended not to believe Santa Claus was coming, he did not like to miss the chance, and he feared, if he left his socks in his own room, they might be forgotten; so he got Jane to hang them up with the rest, and tried very hard to look as if he did not care whether he found anything there in the morning or not. Baby Madge and the twin were soon sound asleep in their little white cots. They had not a single doubt but that there would be plenty of good things forthcoming in the morning; but Katie and Mamie lay awake for what seemed a long, long time, talking in whispers and eagerly watching the door, but no visitor came. Presently the fire burned down and the room became dark; they could only just see the long row of stockings hanging on the line, and the great wreaths of holly and ivy with which Jane had decorated the walls, till the nursery looked almost like a shrubbery. In spite of all her efforts, Katie's eyes closed, and Mamie nestled down contentedly, and soon they were both fast asleep. "Philip Philip! come here quickly! Mr. Santa Claus has been, and he's filled our stockings as full as ever they can be," Mamie cried, early the next morning. She was the first to open her eyes, but they were all soon wide awake and dancing round the room, except the twin, who were the last to end their sleep. "Do make haste, please, Phil," Mamie continued, "and help us to take them down; they are so heavy." "I wonder how he got in?" Katie said. "I watched for him last night for ever so long. Oh, how good he's been! Just look, Mamie; both my stockings are full to the very top." "Mine, too," Mamie replied, her mouth full of chocolate creams. "How could he carry such a lot of beautiful things?" "I tell you what, Kitsie, he must be very clever, for he has brought me the very thing I wanted most. Look, sis, what a lovely pair of skates! They're the nicest present of all." Katie thought they made but a poor show beside her lovely "lady's companion" and box of paints; but she was very glad Philip was pleased, and had got just what he wanted. The twin and baby Madge were lost in wonder and amazement. There were toys enough to last for a whole long year-dolls, Noah's arks, railway trains, woolly lambs, jumping monkeys-everything, in fact, that they could possibly imagine or wish for; and there was a great deal of talking and very little breakfast eaten that Christmas morning in the nursery at Rookwood. "Do you think it's freezing, Uncle John?" Philip said, soon after breakfast. "I do so want to try my new skates." "Yes, it's freezing hard, Phil; but you must not attempt to go on the ice to-day. To-morrow afternoon, if it's fine, I'll take you on the mere. But you must not venture without me; promise me that, Phil." Philip promised readily, and he really meant to keep his word. But when his papa, mamma, and Uncle John started for church, he began to feel rather lonely. Katie was in the nursery, amusing the babies, while Jane helped the cook; there was not any one to talk to, and he did not quite know what to do with himself. Uncle John had promised to take them all to a children's service in the afternoon; but it seemed a long, long time till three o'clock. Presently, he took up his new skates and tried them on; then he thought he would just like to show them to Harry Lawson. There could be no harm in that; so he put on his hat, and started off for the village, hurrying past the church as if he were afraid Uncle John would hear him. At the entrance to the village there was a pond, and Philip found Harry Lawson sliding on it, and Jack Hill, a school companion, trying to skate with a very bad, old pair of skates that belonged to his father. Of course, Phil was very proud of his skates, and Harry persuaded him to try them on, just to see how they looked. "Come along and have a turn, Phil," he said; "the ice is splendid here." Phil hesitated. He had promised his uncle not to go on the mere, and he would not; but the pond was quite different; it seemed perfectly safe, and Jack and Harry were enjoying themselves very, very much. So after a few moments' hesitation he went on, and was soon enjoying it too, and having famous fun. His uncle had taught him how to skate, so he had plenty of courage, and he did not mind a fall or two, and soon Jack Hill was completely beaten, and left behind. An hour or two passed quite unconsciously, and Philip forgot all about his promise-forgot everything except the enjoyment of the moment; he was so proud both of his skates and of his skill, and he started off, leaving the others far behind. "I say, Phil, stop-don't go that way!" Harry Lawson cried, as Philip made for a part of the pond where they had not been. But he took no notice; now on one foot, now on the other, he went gaily skimming along, till he suddenly came to a part marked "dangerous." He tried to stop himself and turn back, but he was going at too great a speed. With a sudden crash the ice gave way, the earth seemed to fly up as his head struck something, and in a moment he was up to his neck in the water, screaming wildly for aid. "Don't be frightened-I'm coming; it's not very deep there. Hold on to the edge," Harry cried, as he made his way to the spot, followed by Jack Hill. But the ice was crackling and breaking away, and the fright and sudden chill combined made Phil's fingers weak and numb. It was with the utmost difficulty that he kept up till Harry reached him, and then it was a hard struggle to get him out of the water. But they managed it at last, and Jack and Harry carried him safely to the bank and laid him down, when, to their dismay, he fainted. It was quite half an hour before he recovered consciousness, and then he was thoroughly chilled from lying in his wet clothes, and exhausted from fright. The best thing to do was to get home at once; so Jack took off his skates, and Harry took his arm and tried to drag him along. It was a terrible undertaking to get to Rookwood; but they reached there at last, all three boys almost fainting from exhaustion. They found the house in a terrible state of commotion; every one in search of Philip except his mother, who ran out to meet them, and when she heard what had happened, she clasped him in her arms. "My darling, we have been so frightened about you. Oh, Phil, how could you!" "I'm sorry, mamma, I am indeed; I did not mean to be disobedient--" "It was my fault," Harry interrupted; "I persuaded him to come on the ice, I did, indeed; so please don't be cross with him because he was nearly drowned. It's all my fault!" |
