on of the Nativity. A soap-box and two hemlock branches are
the elements. Six tallow candles and a night-light illuminate a
singular collection of rarities, set out with much ceremonial show. A
doll tightly wrapped in swaddling-clothes represents "the Child." Over
it stands a ferocious-looking beast, easily recognized as a survival
of the last political campaign,--the Tammany tiger,--threatening to
swallow it at a gulp if one as much as takes one's eyes off it. A
miniature Santa Claus, a pasteboard monkey, and several other articles
of bric-a-brac of the kind the tenement affords, complete the outfit.
The background is a picture of St. Donato, their village saint, with
the Madonna "whom they worship most." But the incongruity harbors no
suggestion of disrespect. The children view the strange show with
genuine reverence, bowing and crossing themselves before it. There are
five, the oldest a girl of seventeen, who works for a sweater, making
three dollars a week. It is all the money that comes in, for the
father has been sick and unable to work eight months and the mother
has her hands full: the youngest is a baby in arms. Three of the
children go to a charity school, where they are fed, a great help, now
the holidays have come to make work slack for sister. The rent is six
dollars--two weeks' pay out of the four. The mention of a possible
chance of light work for the man brings the daughter with her sewing
from the adjoining room, eager to hear. That would be Christmas
indeed! "Pietro!" She runs to the neighbors to communicate the joyful
tidings. Pietro comes, with his new-born baby, which he is tending
while his wife lies ill, to look at the maestro, so powerful and good.
He also has been out of work for months, with a family of mouths to
fill, and nothing coming in. His children are all small yet, but they
speak English.

"What," I say, holding a silver dime up before the oldest, a smart
little chap of seven--"what would you do if I gave you this?"

"Get change," he replies promptly. When he is told that it is his own,
to buy toys with, his eyes open wide with wondering incredulity. By
degrees he understands. The father does not. He looks questioningly
from one to the other. When told, his respect increases visibly for
"the rich gentleman."

They were villagers of the same community in southern Italy, these
people and others in the tenements thereabouts, and they moved their
patron saint with them. They cluster abou