_ with pink apple-blossoms a-bloom,
a string of magnificent pearls, much larger than those he had seen in
the other shop, a bright red book entitled _Memorandum_, a fragrant
flower similar to the ones he had seen, but made of cloth and wire so
that it could not wither, and a large bottle of most delicious perfume
labelled Bay Rum Lotion, a sample of which the amiable young
saleswoman squirted on Rollo's curly locks to his great delight.

Can you not imagine Anabelle's joy when she opened all these presents
on Christmas morning! Surely hers was the brightest, happiest
Christmas of any little girl in all this wide land.

THE END OF LITTLE ROLLO

WHICH IMMEDIATELY PROVOKES THE USUAL QUESTION--WHICH END?

On a bright midwinter morning, Rollo was sitting before the sputtering
gas-log, endeavouring to warm himself. Although he had on his
red-flannel wristers and the tippet which his Aunt Lucy had given him
for Christmas, and his hands were extended over the blue flames, yet
he felt cold. Ever and anon he shivered slightly.

"Jonas," said he, addressing his father's secretary, who had just
entered the room, "why am I so chilly? The room according to the
mercury-tube is warm, and yet I shiver."

"Some one is walking over your grave," said Jonas cheerfully, "Such
tremblings are oft times presentiments of death." So saying, he passed
out of the room whistling a merry funeral march.

This was the one thing necessary to make Rollo feel colder and more
disconsolate than ever before. He squirmed round on his green cricket,
and seemed to shrink to a smaller size, as he again extended his
hands, his expression becoming more and more disconsolate as the
picture conjured up by Jonas's remarks floated before his eyes. He
saw himself lying on his trundle bed, his family weeping about him.
Among them, he saw in his imagination his little friend Anabelle
approaching, sadly, carrying a large wreath of lilies tied with a
white ribbon, marked "Rollo." At this thought, two large tears rolled
slowly down Rollo's cheeks. It was more than he could bear. And thus
his mother found him when she entered the room.

Now the reasons for our little hero's depression were three. I wonder
if any of my young readers can guess them!

First, there was the natural reaction to the gay Holiday season, which
always plunges the world into profound gloom; secondly, Rollo was by
nature inclined to be rather bilious; and thirdly,--well,--I shall
wa