e of 1776 spent their Christmas,
that their children and grandchildren might spend many of them as
citizens of a free nation.

XXIX. CHRISTMAS UNDER THE SNOW*

*From "Kristy's Queer Christmas," Houghton, Mifflin & Co., 1904.

OLIVE THORNE MILLER

It was just before Christmas, and Mr. Barnes was starting for the
nearest village. The family were out at the door to see him start, and
give him the last charges.

"Don't forget the Christmas dinner, papa," said Willie.

'"Specially the chickens for the pie!" put in Nora.

"An' the waisins," piped up little Tot, standing on tiptoe to give papa
a good-bye kiss.

"I hate to have you go, George," said Mrs. Barnes anxiously. "It looks
to me like a storm."

"Oh, I guess it won't be much," said Mr. Barnes lightly; "and the
youngsters must have their Christmas dinner, you know."

"Well," said Mrs. Barnes, "remember this, George: if there is a bad
storm don't try to come back. Stay in the village till it is over. We
can get along alone for a few days, can't we, Willie?" turning to the
boy who was giving the last touches to the harness of old Tim, the
horse.

"Oh, yes! Papa, I can take care of mamma," said Willie earnestly.

"And get up the Christmas dinner out of nothing?" asked papa, smiling.

"I don't know," said Willie, hesitating, as he remembered the proposed
dinner, in which he felt a deep interest.

"What could you do for the chicken pie?" went on papa with a roguish
look in his eye, "or the plum-pudding?"

"Or the waisins?" broke in Tot anxiously.

"Tot has set her heart on the raisins," said papa, tossing the small
maiden up higher than his head, and dropping her all laughing on the
door-step, "and Tot shall have them sure, if papa can find them in S--.
Now good-bye, all! Willie, remember to take care of mamma, and I depend
on you to get up a Christmas dinner if I don't get back. Now, wife,
don't worry!" were his last words as the faithful old horse started down
the road.

Mrs. Barnes turned one more glance to the west, where a low, heavy bank
of clouds was slowly rising, and went into the little house to attend to
her morning duties.

"Willie," she said, when they were all in the snug little log-cabin in
which they lived, "I'm sure there's going to be a storm, and it may be
snow. You had better prepare enough wood for two or three days; Nora
will help bring it in."

"Me, too!" said grave little Tot.

"Yes, Tot may help too," said mamma.

Th