by
their father, who stands hidden behind it.

At the foot of their mother's white-curtained bed stands the little
fir-tree; tiny candles are burning all over it like little stars, and
glittering golden fruits are hanging among the dark-green branches.
On the white-covered table are laid Fritz's sword and Gretchen's big
doll, they being too heavy for the tree to hold. Under the branches
Louise finds charming things; such a little work-box as it is a
delight to see, with a lock and key, and inside, thimble and scissors,
and neat little spools of silk and thread. Then there are the fairy
stories of the old Black Forest, and that most charming of all little
books, "The White Cat," and an ivory cup and ball for Fritz. Do you
remember where the ivory comes from? And, lest Baby Hans should think
himself forgotten, there is an ivory rattle for him.

There he lies in the nurse's arms, his blue eyes wide open with
wonder, and in a minute the children, with arms full of presents, have
gathered round the old woman's arm-chair,--gathered round the best and
sweetest little Christmas present of all. And the happy mother, who
sits up among the pillows, taking her supper, while she watches her
children, forgets to eat, and leaves the gruel to grow cold, but her
heart is warm enough.

Why is not Christian here to-night? In the school of music, away on
the hill, he is singing a grand Christmas hymn, with a hundred young
voices to join him. It is very grand and sweet, full of thanks and of
love. It makes the little boy feel nearer to all his loved ones, and
in his heart he is thanking the dear Father who has given them that
best little Christmas present,--the baby.

LOUISE, THE CHILD OF THE WESTERN FOREST.

There are many things happening in this world, dear children,--things
that happen to you yourselves day after day, which you are too young
to understand at the time. By and by, when you grow to be as old as I
am, you will remember and wonder about them all.

Now, it was just one of these wonderful things, too great for the
young children to understand, that happened to our little Louise and
her brothers and sister when the Christmas time had come around again,
and the baby was more than a year old.

It was a cold, stormy night; there were great drifts of snow, and
the wind was driving it against the windows. In the beautiful great
parlor, beside the bright fire, sat the sweet, gentle mother, and
in her lap lay the stout