Still he went
over to it in hopes that the dream might have come true, and that the
candy and muffler had remained by the stocking, but they too were gone.
Peter shiveringly dressed himself. He had now only one stocking and a
shoe to put on. How heavy the stocking was! there was something in it!
Peter grew greatly excited--"Santa Klaus must have taken this stocking
after all!" said he. Yes, there was a bundle, and the paper stuck to
the inside. It was candy without a doubt; but where was the muffler?
Peter turned the stocking inside out, but the muffler had gone after the
rest of the things. The candy alone was faithful.

Peter hastened down stairs. Mr. Morgridge was there getting breakfast
ready. Peter eagerly told him of his good fortune. What a chuckle did
the old fellow give! it was amazing to Peter. He had never before heard
Mr. Morgridge make such a noise. He had never seen his face so broken up
into smiles and grins. He could hardly believe it was Mr. Morgridge. Nor
was it--it was Morgridge Klaus.

While breakfast was in preparation, Peter climbed up into his
watch-tower. Well done! there was a muffler in the chair! precisely like
the one which he had seen enter the stocking the night before. How could
it have found its way to his seat? As he was looking at it in
wonderment, there was another undoubted chuckle from Morgridge Klaus.
Peter was astonished beyond measure. Could Mr. Morgridge be Santa Klaus?
impossible! yet he began to believe it, for was it any harder of belief
than that it was Mr. Morgridge who then spoke in a voice that had in it
the cheeriness of Solomon Mit:--

"Come down, little Peter! To-day is Christmas Day. We must hurry through
breakfast; for we've got twenty-five turkeys to carry to twenty-five
honest poor folk. It will go hard with us, but we'll make shift to buy
'em. God bless you Peter Mit!" and may the Indian in front of the door
tomahawk me if David Morgridge did not then and there, in his old,
wheezy, snuff-choked voice, sing--

"All glory be to God on high,
And to the Earth be peace,
Good will, henceforth, from Heaven to men,
Begin and never cease!"

[Illustration]

The Little Castaways

JULIA'S STORY.

The Little Castaways.

[Illustration]

It was a June afternoon, long and gentle; the sun did not scorch as it
does in August, and the wind was from the South, just strong enough to
stir the trees a little, and to carry the fragrance of the flow