As, musing slow, I hail

Thy genial, loved return!

For when thy folding-star arising shows
His paly circlet, at his warning lamp,

And

The fragrant Hours, and Elves

Who slept in buds the day,

many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still,

The pensive Pleasures sweet,

Prepare thy shadowy car.

Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene;
Or find some ruin midst its dreary dells,
Whose walls more awful nod

By thy religious gleams.

Or, if chill, blustering winds, or driving rain,
Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut
That from the mountain's side
Views wilds, and swelling floods,

And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires;
And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all
Thy dewy fingers draw

The gradual, dusky vail.

While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont,
And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve!
While Summer loves to sport
Beneath thy lingering light;

While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;
Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,

ODE TO EVENING.

Affrights thy shrinking train,

And rudely rends thy robes,

So long, regardful of thy quiet rule,

Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace,
Thy gentlest influence own,

And love thy favorite name!

295

ANNIE AND WILLIE'S PRAYER.

MRS. SOPHIA P. SNOW.

WAS the eve before Christmas; "Good night" had been said,

And Annie and Willie had crept into bed; There were tears on their pillows, and tears in their eyes,

And each little bosom was heavy with sighs-
For to-night their stern father's command had
been given

That they should retire precisely at seven,
Instead of at eight, for they troubled him more
With their questions unheard of than ever before.
He had told them he thought this delusion a sin,
No such being as Santa Claus ever had been,

And he hoped after this he should never more hear

How he scrambled down chimneys with presents each year; And this was the reason that two little heads

So restlessly tossed on their soft, downy beds.

Eight, nine, and the clock on the steeple tolled ten,
Not a word had been spoken by either till then,
When Willie's sad face from the blanket did peep
And whispered: "Dear Annie, is you fast asleep?"

ANNIE AND WILLIE'S PRAYER.

"Why, no, brother Willie," a sweet voice replies,
"I've tried it in vain, but I can't shut my eyes,
For somehow it makes me sorry because
Dear papa has said there is no Santa Claus.
Now we know that there is, and it can't be denied,
For he came every year before mamma died.

But then I've been thinking that she used to pray,
And God would hear everything mamma would say,
And perhaps she asked Him to send Santa Claus here,
With the sacks full of presents he brought every year."
"Well, why tant we pay dest as mamma did then,
And ask him to send us some presents aden ?"

"I've been thinking so, too," and without a word more
Four little feet bounded out on the floor,

And four little knees the soft carpet pressed,

And two tiny hands were clasped close to each breast.

"Now, Willie, you know we must firmly believe, That the presents we ask for we're sure to receive; You must wait just as still till I say the Amen,

And by that you will know that your turn has come then. "Dear Jesus look down on my brother and me

And grant us the favor we're asking of Thee;

I want a wax dolly, a tea-set and ring,

And a beautiful work-box that shuts with a spring.
Bless papa, dear Jesus, and cause him to see
That Santa Claus loves us far better than he;
Don't let him get angry and fretful again
At dear brother Willie and Annie-Amen!"

"Please, Desus, 'et Santa Claus tum down to-night
And bring us some presents before it is light;
I want he would dive me a nice 'ittle sled,
With bright shining yunners and all painted yed;

297

A box full of tandy, a book and a toy-
Amen-and den, Desus, I'll be a dood boy."

Their prayers being ended they raised up their heads,
And with hearts light and cheerful again sought their beds.
They were soon lost in slumber, both peaceful and deep.
And with fairies in dream-land were roaming in sleep.

Eight, nine, and the little French clock had struck ten,
Ere the father had thought of his children again.
He seems now to hear Annie's half-suppressed sighs,
And see the big tears stand in Willie's blue eyes.
"I was harsh with my darlings," he mentally said,
"And should not have sent them so early to bed.
But then I was troubled, my feelings found vent,
For bank stock to-day has gone down ten per cent.
But, of course, they've forgotten their troubles ere this,
And that, I denied them the thrice asked for kiss.
But just to make sure I'll steal up to the door,
For I never spoke harsh to my darlings before."

So saying, he softly ascended the stairs,

And arrived at the door to hear both of their prayers;
His Annie's "Bless papa," draws forth the big tears,

And Willie's grave promise falls sweet on his ears.

Strange! Strange! I'd forgotten," he said, with a sigh, "How I longed when a child to have Christmas draw nigh. "I'll atone for my harshness," he inwardly said,

"By answering their prayers ere I sleep in my bed;"
Then he turned to the stair and softly went down,
Threw off velvet-slippers and silk dressing-gown.
Donned hat, coat and boots, and was out in the street,
A millionaire facing the cold, driving sleet.

Nor stopped he until he had bought everything,