nd so send the
doll and the other things for a Christmas present to you and
your brother and the baby.

We wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

BETH PAGE,

FRED PAGE.

This they neatly folded, put in an envelope addressed to Miss Lucy
Tillage, Mad River Village, and placed on the shawl where it might be
seen the moment the box was opened. They felt very proud and happy
when the box was finally nailed up and directed in clear printed
letters to

GEORGE TILLAGE,
Intervale Farm,
Mad River Village,
New Hampshire.

Freddie insisted that Lucy's name ought to be put on, too, as she was
the one who had written the letter and to whom the box was really
sent; so "For Lucy" was printed across one corner and underlined that
her father might see it was sent particularly to her. It all seemed so
mysterious, sending presents to people they did not know, and so
delightful, that they thought this the best Christmas they had ever
known and only wished that they could be in the little "black house"
when the box was opened, to see Lucy's face as she caught sight of the
cunning trunk and then the doll which she had so longed for.

The very day the box was sent on its way there came a letter from a
minister in the town in which Mad River Village was located, saying
that he "did not know any family of the name of Tillage, but upon
inquiry he had found that there was a family of that name living on
the other side of the river, but as they did not go to his church he
was not acquainted with them; he was sorry, etc., etc."

But the children cared little for this letter; their faith in Lucy was
not shaken, and they were very happy that they had answered her
letter.

EZRA'S THANKSGIVIN' OUT WEST[21]

BY EUGENE FIELD.

A Kansas settler's recollections of an old-time Thanksgiving
in western Massachusetts. Older boys and girls will best
appreciate the tender sentiment of the picture which Eugene
Field has painted so vividly by his masterly use of homely
dialect.

Ezra had written a letter to the home folks, and in it he had
complained that never before had he spent such a weary, lonesome day
as this Thanksgiving Day had been. Having finished this letter, he sat
for a long time gazing idly into the open fire that snapped cinders
all over the hearthstone and sent its red forks dancing up the chimney
to join the winds that frolicked and gambolled across the