RISTMAS-PRESENTS.

POOR Katy Carr was an invalid. She had to lie in bed all the time; for
not long ago she had a bad fall from a swing, and hurt her spine.

But Katy had brothers and sisters. There was Clover, the little girl,
who, in the picture, is seen looking over the head of the bed, behind
the pillow. There was Elsie, who is seen hugging Katy.

Sister Joanna is the girl with black curls, who stands with a stocking
in her hand. Brother Phil, not yet old enough for trousers, stands at
her side; and that boy with his hand on the knob of the bedpost is
Dorry.

It is Christmas morning; and the children have brought in presents for
poor sick Katy. Observe that nice large chair with a long-cushioned
back, ending in a footstool, and which tips back so as to be just like a
bed: that is a present from Katy's father.

See that little evergreen-tree planted in a red flower-pot: the boughs
are hung with oranges and nuts, and shiny red apples, and pop-corn
balls, and strings of bright berries. These are all presents from the
children. A little silver bell, with "Katy" engraved on the handle, is
among the pretty things.

[Illustration]

Then there is a new book, which you may spy out if you will look sharp.
How the children do enjoy seeing dear Katy happy! They have all had
presents themselves; and they will soon show them to her. They hope she
will be well enough to play with them before spring.

These children used to have rare frolics among themselves. On St.
Valentine's eve, they had many letters, most of which, I think, must
have been written by Katy.

But among them there was one from Little Red Riding Hood, over whose sad
fate Joanna used to cry. As many other children have heard about Red
Riding Hood, they will be glad to have good news of her. Here is her
letter:--

I send you my picture, dear Johnnie, to show
that I'm just as alive as you, and that you
needn't cry over my fate any more, as you used
to do. The wolf didn't hurt me at all that day;
for I kicked and fought and cried, till he
dropped me out of his mouth, and ran away in
the woods to hide.

And grandma and I have lived ever since in the
little brown house so small, and churned fresh
butter, and made cream-cheeses, nor seen the
wolf at all. So cry no more for fear I'm eaten:
the naughty wolf is shot, and, if you will come
to tea some even