I'd rather have my baby brother
Than dolls or candy--so would my mother."

The Night Before Christmas

Curly heads, so softly pillowed;
Chubby arms outspread;
Thousand fancies swiftly flying
Through each little head.

Clasping treasures newly garnered,
Dolly, book, and ball,
Still they dream of coming pleasures
Greater than them all.

Christmas-trees of gorgeous beauty,
Filled with presents rare;
Toys unheard of, joys unnumbered,
All delights are there.

Angel forms, with smiling faces,
Hover round the bed;
Angel feet make echoing music
As they lightly tread.

Angel voices, softly thrilling,
Chant a lullaby:
"Darlings, dream, and sweetly slumber,
We are watching by."

Who from dreams like these would waken
To a world of pain?
"Hush, then, dear ones! Have we roused you?
Turn and dream again."

[Illustration: Baby waking up nearly caught Santa Claus.]

[Page 78--Santa Claus Land]

[Illustration: Annie and Willie Praying.]

Annie And Willie's Prayer

'Twas the eve before Christmas; good night had been said,
And Annie and Willie had crept into bed.
There were tears on their pillows, and tears in their eyes,
And each little bosom was heaving with sighs;

For to-night their stern father's command had been given,
That they should retire precisely at seven
Instead of at eight; for they had troubled him more
With questions unheard of than ever before.

He had told them he thought this delusion a sin;
No such creature as "Santa Claus" ever had been;
And he hoped, after this, he should never more hear
How he scrambled down chimneys with presents each year.

And this was the reason that two little heads
So restlessly tosses on their soft, downy beds.
Eight, nine, and the clock on the steeple tolled ten;
Not a word had been spoken by either till then;

When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep,
And he whispered: "Dear Annie, is 'ou fast asleep?"
"Why, no, Brother Willie," a sweet voice replies;
"I've long tried in vain, but I can't shut my eyes;

"For somehow it makes me so sorry because
Dear Papa has said there is no Santa Claus.
Now we know there is, and it can't be denied
For he came every year before dear mamma died;

"But then, I've been thinking, that she used to pray,--
And God would hear everything dear mamma would say,--
And, maybe, she ask