Children delight in folk-tale and fairy lore, but the very little child loves best the story which mirrors the familiar. And it is for him, and for the mother who is striving in this age of profusion to guard the innate simplicity of her child's nature, that I have written my little stories.

We each have a story to tell, I know; so let each one take his turn.

All the world is happy when Santa Claus comes.

The humblest workman has his place, Which no one else can fill.

Nobody follows me where I go, Over the mountains or valleys below; Nobody sees where the wild winds blow, Only the Father in Heaven can know.

Tis the mind must guide the hand.

Oh! like a wreath, let Christmas mirth To-day encircle all the earth, And bind the nations with the love That Jesus brought from heaven above.