In The Yule-Log Glow Volume Iv Part 18

"Injunctions, leases, charters, I Was meshed as in a mighty maze; The stock ran low, the talk ran high, Then quickly flamed the final blaze.

"With never an inch of track--'tis true!

The debts were large ... the oft-told tale.

The President rolled in splendor new, --He bought my silver at the sale.

"Yes, sold me out: we've moved away.

I've had to give up everything; My reindeer, even, whom I ... pray, Excuse me" ... here, o'er-sorrowing,

Poor Santa Claus burst into tears, Then calmed again: "My reindeer fleet, I gave them up: on foot, my dears, I now must plod through snow and sleet.

"Retrenchment rules in Elfland, now; Yes, every luxury is cut off, --Which, by the way, reminds me how I caught this dreadful hacking cough:

"I cut off the tail of my Ulster furred To make young Kris a coat of state That very night the storm occurred!

Thus we become the sport of Fate.

"For I was out till after one, Surveying chimney-tops and roofs, And planning how it could be done Without any reindeers' bouncing hoofs.

"'My dear,' says Mrs. Claus, that night, A most superior woman she!

'It never, never can be right That you, deep sunk in poverty,

"'This year should leave your poor old bed, And trot about, bent down with toys; There's Kris a-crying now for bread-- To give to other people's boys!

"'Since you've been out, the news arrives The Elfs' Insurance Company's gone.

Ah, Claus, those premiums! Now, our lives Depend on yours: thus griefs go on.

"'And even while you're thus hara.s.sed, I do believe, if out you went, You'd go, in spite of all that's pa.s.sed, To the children of that President!'

"Oh, Charley, Harry, Nimblewits, These eyes that night ne'er slept a wink; My path seemed honeycombed with pits, Naught could I do but think and think.

"But, with the day, my courage rose.

Ne'er shall my boys, my boys, I cried, When Christmas morns their eyes unclose, Find empty stockings gaping wide!

"Then hewed, and whacked, and whittled I; The wife, the girls, and Kris took fire; They spun, sewed, cut,--till by and by We made, at home, my pack entire!"

He handed me a bundle here.

"Now, hoist me up: there, gently: quick!

Dear boys, don't look for much this year: Remember, Santa Claus is sick!"

_Sidney Lanier._

OLD CHRISTMAS.

Now he who knows Old Christmas, He knows a wight of worth, For he's as good a fellow As any on the earth; He comes warm-cloaked and coated, And b.u.t.toned to the chin; And ere he is a-nigh the door, We ope to let him in.

He comes with voice most cordial, It does one good to hear; For all the little children He asks each pa.s.sing year: His heart is warm and gladsome, Not like your griping elves, Who, with their wealth in plenty, Think only of themselves.

He tells us witty stories, He sings with might and main; We ne'er forget his visit Till he comes back again.

With laurel green and holly We make the house look gay; We know that it will please him, It was his ancient way.

Oh, he's a rare old fellow; What gifts he gives away!

There's not a lord in England Could equal him to-day!

Good luck unto Old Christmas, Long life now let us sing; He is more kind unto the poor Than any crowned king.

_Mary Howitt._

MRS. SANTA CLAUS.

The moon was like a frosted cake, The stars like flas.h.i.+ng beads That round a br.i.m.m.i.n.g punch-bowl break 'Mid spice and almond seeds; And here and there a silver beam Made bright some curling cloud Uprising like the wa.s.sail's stream, Blown off by laughter loud.

It was the night of Christmas Eve, And good old Santa Claus His door was just about to leave, When something made him pause: "I haven't kissed my wife," quoth he, "I haven't said good-by."

So back he went and lovingly He kissed her cap awry.

Now Mrs. Claus is just a bit-- The least bit--of a shrew.

What wonder? Only think of it-- She has so much to do.

Imagine all the stocking-legs, Of every size and shape, That hang upon their Christmas pegs With greedy mouths agape.

These she must fill, and when you see The northern skies aflame With quivering light, 'tis only she-- This very quaint old dame-- Striking a match against the Pole Her whale-oil lamp to light, That she may see to work, poor soul, At making toys all night.

"Odd he should kiss me," this she said Before the sleigh had gone; "'Tis many a year since we were wed; I'll follow him anon.

For faithless husbands, one and all, Ere on their loves they wait, Their wives' suspicion to forestall Seem most affectionate."

So, pulling on her seal-skin sacque, Into her husband's sleigh She slipped, and hid behind his pack Just as he drove away.

"Great Bears!" growled Santa in his beard, "A goodly freight have I; Were't fouler weather, I had feared The glacier path to try."

Yet none the less they safely sped Across the realms of snow-- The glittering planets overhead, The sparkling frost below-- Until the reindeer stopped before A mansion tall and fair, Up to whose wide and lofty door Inclined a marble stair.

So soundly all its inmates slept, They heard no stroke of hoof; No fall of foot as Santa leapt From pavement unto roof.

So, down the chimney like a sweep He crept, and after him Went Mrs. Claus to have a peep At chambers warm and dim.

As luck would have it, there was hung A stocking by the fire To wear which no one over-young Could fittingly aspire: Long, slender, graceful--it was just The thing to fill the heart Of Mrs. C. with deep distrust; And--well--it played its part.

Scowling, she watched her husband fill The silken foot and leg With bonbons, fruit, and toys until It almost broke its peg.

"My!" whispered Santa, "here's a crop.

This little boy is wise; He knows I fill 'em to the top, No matter what the size."

But Mrs. Claus misunderstood, Like every jealous wife; She _would_ make bad things out of good, To feed her inward strife.

Snapped she unto herself: "The minx Sha'n't have a single thing!

I'll take 'em home again, methinks, Nor leave a stick or string!"

So said, so done; and all that night She followed Santa's wake, And as he stuffed the stockings tight, She every one did take, Stowing them all unseen away, In order grimly neat, Within the dark box of the sleigh, All underneath the seat.