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 “That will be first rate, Flora,” said Frank. “She shall have all my
money, too, and I’ve got more than you have.”

“You are real good, Frank,” replied Flora. “We can buy ever so
many things. Won’t we have a nice time! And won’t Mrs. White be
glad, and won’t she be surprised when we take the things in to her!”

“Won’t she, though!”

“We must send her a load of wood too. Don’t you want to give
something, Henry?”

“Yes, I should like to, but I haven’t got much to give.”

“I have got a dollar, and so have you,” said Sarah.

“I don’t want to give all of it. I want to buy something for myself.”

“I will give all of mine.”

“I will give half a dollar,” added Henry.

Then Frank and Flora took their money boxes out of a drawer in
the play room. They were little wooden boxes with holes in the top to
slip the money through. Each of them had a key, and the savings
banks were emptied upon the floor.

Henry helped Flora count her money, and they found there was
two dollars and seventy cents. Frank’s box had contained three
dollars and twenty cents. The two cousins gave a dollar and a half;
and the whole sum for the poor widow was seven dollars and forty
cents.

To the children this was a great sum of money, and they thought it
would pay all of Mrs. White’s expenses for the winter. Frank was
chosen to keep the funds, and he put them into one of the boxes.
Then Flora said they had better go down and tell her father all about
the plan, and he would show them how to go to work.

Flora was so delighted, she could not walk, but went dancing
down the stairs and through the entries. She kept thinking all the
time how glad the poor widow would be to see the things, and how
happy they would all be when they carried them to her.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee were in the sitting room when the party rushed
through the entry. They saw that “something was in the wind,” and
Mr. Lee threw down the newspaper which the little merchant had just
brought to him, and Mrs. Lee stopped sewing. The children came
just as though the house was on fire, and they would all be burnt to
death if they did not run as fast as ever they could.

“Father!” shouted Flora, as she bolted into the room, followed by

the others.

“What is the matter, my dear? Have you hurt you?”

“O, no, father. I’ve got something to tell you—something first rate;
and I want you to help me—I mean we—for we are all going to do it.”

“What are you going to do? I should think you meant to set the
river afire!”

“O, no, nothing of that kind, father. We are going to give a

Christmas present to Mrs. White. You know she is very poor, and has
a hard time to take care of all her family.”

“She has, indeed, my child.”

“We have put all our money together, and we are going to buy a
load of wood, a barrel of flour, lots of potatoes, and meat, and coffee,
and tea, sugar, and—and—pepper, and salt, and mustard——”

“Stop, stop, my child! You will have a fit if you run on in this way.”

Her father and mother, and the children, all laughed to hear Flora
talk so fast, and add such things as pepper and mustard to her list. I
suppose they thought the poor widow could get along very well
without such things as these.

Mr. Lee said he liked the plan, and that he would take the money
and buy such things as he thought Mrs. White needed. He promised
to have every thing ready for them to start at eight o’clock the next
morning.

While the children were at tea, the parlor doors were unlocked,
and the room lighted. One end was occupied by a beautiful
Christmas tree, which was covered all over with candles and pretty
things.

When Flora and Frank and their cousins entered the parlor, they
were very much surprised, for none of them had ever seen any thing
so brilliant before, and they all passed a merry Christmas Eve.
The Procession.
 III.

The children were up bright and early at Mr. Lee’s on Christmas

morning. They had expected a visit from Santa Claus during the
night, and the stockings had all been left so that he could easily find
them.

Truly Santa Claus had been kind to them, for the stockings were
not only well filled, but a table was also covered all over with fine
things. There were all kinds of playthings, and books, and games,
and pictures.

The parents of Frank and Flora were rich, and could afford to give
them a great many nice things. I don’t think they cared so much for
playthings as some children I have seen. They had so many of them
that they did not value them as some poorer children would have
done.

After Flora had emptied her stocking, and gathered up the books,
games, and pictures that belonged to her, she told Frank she wished
she had all the money they cost, so that she could give it to poor
Mrs. White.

Frank said he wished he had the money for his presents, for he
was sure it would make the poor widow happier than the things
would him. But they were both very grateful to their parents for
thinking of them,—for they knew that Santa Claus was only another
name for father and mother.

All the little boys and girls don’t know this. Emma—that is one of
my little girls—asked me if I did not take out the register, so that
Santa Claus could get into the room, and fill up her stocking. But she
is only four years old.

“Merry Christmas” rang through the house till breakfast was over,
and then the children were in a great hurry to make the visit to Mrs.
White. Mr. Lee had gone out early in the morning, and they were all
sure that he would do every thing right.

At eight o’clock, Mrs. Lee had bundled up the children in their

warm hoods and cloaks, ready for a start. Then they wanted to be off
at once, and Flora’s mother could hardly keep her from running out
in the cold, before the things were ready.

I suppose my readers all know that in the city, or any where, when
they want to have a great time, they get up a procession, and march
through the streets. They sometimes have wagons, and chariots,
and carriages.

Mr. Lee, who was very glad to find that the children were so kind
as to remember the poor widow on Christmas, meant to surprise
them. So he got up a kind of procession. Perhaps you will think it
was a queer procession; but it pleased the children ever so much,
and Flora was almost wild with delight.

While they were looking out the window, they saw Mr. Lee drive
up with the carryall. He came very slowly, for behind him was a
wagon with a cord of wood on it, drawn by two yokes of oxen. Then
came a cart with two barrels of potatoes, a barrel of flour, and a
barrel of apples on it. Behind this was a wagon loaded with buckets
of sugar, rice, coffee, with packages of tea, salt, and other groceries;
a ham, a turkey, a keg of salt pork; and a great many other things.

Flora screamed with delight when she saw this procession. It was
more grand than an army of soldiers, and she thought she would
rather go in it than be the Queen of England.

Frank was pleased, and so were the two city cousins. Henry even
went so far as to wish he had given all his money, instead of half of
it.

The children all bolted out at the front door, and Mr. Lee helped
them into the carryall.

“This is first rate, father,” said Flora. “Won’t Mrs. White be

surprised!”

“I think she will be,” replied Mr. Lee. “She will have good reason to
be surprised.”

“I hope you have got lots of things.”

“I have.”

“Did you spend all the money?”

“Yes; every cent of it, my child.”

“And more too,” said Henry, as he looked back upon the

procession of “goodies.”

“Did you, father?”

 “I thought I would add a little to your gift,” said Mr. Lee, with a
smile.

“How kind you are, father!”

“But all the things shall be called the children’s Christmas gift.”

Mr. Lee got into the carriage, and told the drivers of the wagons to
follow him. The two horses were wide awake. They did not want to
wait for the slow oxen, but Mr. Lee made them, for he wanted the
procession to keep together.

When the procession had got about half way to Mrs. White’s
house, a man covered with dirt and rags stopped the carriage. He
said he was very poor, and had not eaten any thing since the
morning before.

“Poor man!” said Flora. “Do give him something, father.”

“Bless you, little miss! Your father is too kind to refuse me,” said
the man.

“I can’t do any thing for you,” said Mr. Lee, firmly.

“Do, father,” added Flora.

“Any small change, to buy me something to eat,” said the man, in

pleading tones.

“If you are hungry, go to my house, and my wife will feed you,”
replied Mr. Lee.

“Won’t you give me the matter of a few cents?” begged the man.

“Not a cent.”
 “I will,” said Henry. “I don’t want the poor man to go hungry;” and
he threw him a ten-cent piece.

“God bless you, my little man!” said the beggar, as he picked up

the money. “May you never want for a meal of victuals!”

Mr. Lee started his horses, and the procession again moved on.
Flora wondered that her father should deny the poor man. She pitied
him very much, when he said he had eaten nothing since the
morning before. She thought what a dreadful thing it was to be
hungry, and have nothing to eat.

She wanted to cry, she felt so badly, and she thought her father
was very hard not to give him a little money when he needed it so
much. If she had only had some money, she would have given him
the whole of it.

“You did very wrong, Henry,” said Mr. Lee, when they had gone a
little way farther.

“Wrong, sir?” replied Henry. “Why, didn’t the man say he had
eaten nothing for a whole day.”

“That may be, and it may not be.”

“But I know he was hungry by the looks of him,” said Flora.

“Those who have any thing to give away ought to be very careful
to whom they give it. The man looked like a drunkard. Very likely he
will spend the money you gave him, Henry, for liquor. It is not charity
to give a man rum.”

“Do you think he is a bad man, father?” asked Flora.

 “I don’t know that he is. I told him to go to the house, and your
mother would give him something to eat. You saw that he wanted
money more than food. I am afraid, Henry, your money will do him
more hurt than good.”

“I hope not, uncle.”

“It is not charity to give money to such persons. When you have
any thing to give, you ought to use a great deal of care. We should
visit the poor, and find out about them.”

“We know Mrs. White is good,” said Flora.

“We do; and we may give to her without fear.”

The children had learned a new lesson about giving—a lesson

which every body ought to learn.
The Christmas Tree.
 I V.

Mrs. White, the poor widow, had been able to get along very well
while she could obtain work, and while David, her oldest son, could
sell plenty of newspapers. But it was very hard times, and there was
not much work to be done; so the poor had to get along as well as
they could.

Many of the mills had ceased to work because the times were so
hard, and therefore the men who had bought a paper every day
could not afford to do so now. David lost about one half of his trade.
His mother earned very little, and she had no idea how she should
be able to get through the hard winter.

On that bright, cold Christmas morning, the poor widow thought

how happy the rich must be, who had plenty to eat, and plenty of
coal to keep them warm. She thought of the future, and feared she
should be obliged to ask the town to help her. She did not want to do
this, but she could not think of letting her children suffer for the want
of food, or shiver in the cold.

While she was thinking of these things, Mr. Lee drove up to the
front door, and the children all got out of the carryall. Mrs. White
wondered what they had come for, and she was still more surprised
when she saw the great load of wood, the cart with the barrels, and
the wagon full of buckets and bundles.

She did not know what to make of it, for she did not understand
that all these things were for her.

“I wish you a merry Christmas!” shouted Flora, as she rushed into

the kitchen, where Mrs. White and the children were.

“Thank you, Miss Flora,” replied Mrs. White. “May you live to see
a great many, and all of them happy as the present.”

All the rest of the children wished the poor widow and all her
family a merry Christmas. Flora capered about the room, almost
beside herself with joy.

“We have brought you lots of good things, Mrs. White,” said she,
when the children had all wished the family a merry Christmas. “We
put all our money together, and bought you a load of wood, some
flour, and potatoes, and apples, and tea, and sugar, and pepper, and
salt, and mustard, and——”

“That will do, Flora,” said her father. “Mrs. White will soon find out
what you have brought.”

“I am very grateful to you all, children, for thinking of me. May God
reward you for your kindness!” replied Mrs. White, with tears in her
eyes.

“We wanted to make it a happy day for you, and David, and the
rest of the children,” added Flora.

“It will be the happiest day I have seen for a month,” said Mrs.
White. “I was thinking this very morning what would become of us;
but you have filled my home with plenty. I shall never forget you,
children.”

Then Flora danced three or four times round the room, for she
was so happy she could not keep still. I hope my readers have all
found out that “it is more blessed to give than to receive.” I am sure
Flora and Frank were quite as happy as the poor widow—though her
fears about her children being cold and hungry had suddenly been
driven away.

She felt that God had heard her prayers, and made these children
the agents of his bounty. Her eyes were full of tears, but they were
tears of joy. As she heard the rattling of the sticks of wood which the
men were throwing from the wagon, it seemed like sweet music to
her ears. Then the barrels were rolled into the kitchen, the buckets
placed in the closet, and the bundles on the table, so that the room
looked just as though she had set up a store.

“These things are the Christmas gift of the children,” said Mr. Lee,
when the articles had all been brought into the house. “They got up
the affair themselves, without my knowledge. No one told them to do
it; and I am sure they will all remember to-day as one of the happiest
days of their lives.”

“They are very kind; and I shall think of them and pray for them as
long as I live,” replied Mrs. White. “I was afraid this morning that we
should all have to go to the poorhouse. I spoke to David about it, and
the poor boy cried as though his heart would break. He is a very
tender-hearted child.”

“I hope I shall be able to pay you for all these things some time,”
said David.
 “O, we don’t want any pay,” exclaimed Flora. “That would spoil
every thing. This is our Christmas gift, David. You wouldn’t pay for a
gift—would you, David?”

“You are very good, and I hope I shall be able to do something for
you one of these days, Flora,” replied David. “You are very rich, and
we are very poor, so that we can’t do much for you.”

“Yes, you can,” said Flora.

“What can I do?”

“You can love us; and that is all we want—isn’t it, father?”

“Yes, my child; and we must always deserve their love. We may

yet be poor, and David may yet be very rich.”

“When he is, David will be good to us, I know. Wouldn’t it be

funny, if we should get poor, and David should bring us a load of
wood, some potatoes, flour, tea, sugar, and apples?”

“And mustard and pepper,” added Henry, laughing.

“It would not be very funny for us, but I know we should be
thankful to him,” replied Mr. Lee, with a smile.

“Well, David, when things change, you shall do for us what we

have done for you, and then it will be all square.”

“I hope you never will be poor, but if you are, I will give you every
thing I have,” said David, in a feeling and earnest tone.

The children stopped nearly an hour at the little black cottage; but
they were so happy, it seemed like a palace to them. They had all felt
the luxury of doing good. The plenty they had carried to the home of
the poor family filled their own hearts with plenty—with love and
peace.

Before they went away, Mr. Lee gave Mrs. White money enough
to buy some warm clothes for all the children, and for herself. She
had nothing more to fear from the cold winter and hard times; and
she hoped in the spring to be able to take care of her family herself.

The party, so happy they could hardly keep from shouting, bade
the family good by, and started for home. As they passed through
the village, they saw, in front of a store where rum was sold, two men
fighting. They were soon parted by some people, and Henry saw that
one of them was the man to whom he had given the money.

Mr. Lee said he had been drinking. He stopped the horses, and
asked a gentleman who the man was. He was told that he was a
poor man who spent all he could earn for liquor, and that he had just
taken enough to make him ugly, so that he wanted to fight.

“You see what good your money has done, Henry,” said Mr. Lee,
as he started the horses.

“Yes, sir; it has done more harm than good. I will never give
money again, unless I am pretty sure that it will do good.”

“That is a good lesson for you to learn. It is not charity to give to

every one that asks us.”

In a little while the party reached Mr. Lee’s house, where they had
a nice time all the rest of the day—a better time, I am sure, for
having begun the day with a good deed.
 *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
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