Holidays & Celebrations Books

A TOAST TO SANTA CLAUSWhene'er I find a man who don'tBelieve in Santa Claus,And spite of all remonstrance won'tYield up to logic's laws,And see in things that lie aboutThe proof by no means dim,I straightway cut that fellow out,And don't believe in him.The good old Saint is everywhereAlong life's busy way.We find him in the very airWe breathe day after day—Where... more...

"Any news, mother?" asked Edna one Friday afternoon when she came home from school. "There's a letter from grandma," replied Mrs. Conway after kissing the lips held up to hers. "There isn't any real news in it, but there is an invitation." "What kind of an invitation?" "A Thanksgiving kind." "Oh, mother, what do you mean?" "I mean that... more...

Before the remembrance of the good old times, so fast passing, should have entirely passed away, the present artist, R. Caldecott, and engraver, James D. Cooper, planned to illustrate Washington Irving's "Old Christmas" in this manner. Their primary idea was to carry out the principle of the Sketch Book, by incorporating the designs with the text. Throughout they have worked together and... more...

'Twasthe night before Christmas, and it was very quiet in Mrs. Muffet's house,—altogether too quiet, thought little Miss Muffet, as she sat trying to eat her curds and whey. For Mrs. Muffet was a very severe mother and had her own ideas about bringing up children,—and so had Mr. Muffet, or rather he had the same ideas, only warmed over. One of these was on the necessity of care in the diet... more...

PREPARATIONS The big brown automobile gave three honks as it swung around the corner from Church Street. Roger Morton, raking leaves in the yard beside his house, threw down his rake and vaulted over the gate. "Good afternoon, sir," he called to his grandfather, saluting, soldier fashion. "Good afternoon, son. I stopped to tell you that those pumpkins are ready for you. If you'll hop... more...

CHAPTER I THE PLAY BOX t the sound of footsteps along the hall Miss Terry looked up from the letter which she was reading for the sixth time. "Of course I would not see him," she said, pursing her lips into a hard line. "Certainly not!" A bump on the library door, as from an opposing knee, did duty for a knock. "Bring the box in here, Norah," said Miss Terry, holding open the... more...

CHAPTER I MOLONEY'S It would be hard to find a pleasanter, more friendly-looking place in all Ardenoo than Moloney's of the Crooked Boreen, where Big Michael and the wife lived, a piece up from the high-road. And well might you call the little causey "crooked" that led to their door! for rough and stony that boreen was, twisting and winding along by the bog-side, this way and that... more...

THE WISTFUL HEART IT was long after noon in the far, big, white Northwest. Day was on the wing. Christmas Eve splendidly impended—thank God for unspoiled childish faith and joys of children everywhere! Christmas Eve was fairly within view and welcoming hail, at last, in the thickening eastern shadows. Long Day at its close. Day in a perturbation of blessed unselfishness. Day with its tasks of love... more...

On Christmas Day in the Morning And all the angels in heaven do sing,On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day;And all the bells on earth do ring,On Christmas Day in the morning. —Old Song. That Christmas Day virtually began a whole year beforehand, with a red-hot letter written by Guy Fernald to his younger sister, Nan, who had been married to Samuel Burnett just two and one-half years. The letter was read... more...

A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY Three men who had gained great fame and honour throughout the world met unexpectedly in front of the bookstall at Paddington Station. Like most of the great ones of the earth they were personally acquainted, and they exchanged surprised greetings. Sir Angus McCurdie, the eminent physicist, scowled at the two others beneath his heavy black eyebrows. "I'm going to a... more...