“Do you ’member, mamma, that little, old man Who gave me the bright, new cent? Well, it wouldn’t buy much to eat, mamma, And it would not pay for the rent; So I bought a sheet of paper, mamma, And I’ve written a letter in print-- It’s written to heaven direct, mamma, And I’ve given Him just a hint. “Shall I read it aloud to you, mamma? Yes! Well, this is what I have said: ‘Dear Lord, my name is Mamie St. Clair, And dear, darling papa is dead; I live forty-four in the street they call Fourth, And the cold of the winter is here; My mamma is poor, and I go to school, And I hope you will send this year. “’I hope you will send mamma a new dress Of something that’s warm and nice, A paper of flour, some loaves of bread, And a couple of pounds of rice; And dear, loving Lord, do, if you feel rich, You could send her some shoes to wear, And two or three pounds of beef for soup, Or anything else you can spare. “’I’ve heard my dear mamma say many a time That a chicken would do her much good, And so, dear Lord, if chickens is cheap, A chicken also, if you could; With three pails of coal, if it isn’t too much, And some stuff for mamma’s lame knee, And oh, my dear Lord, pray don’t think me mean, But a dear little dolly for me.’ “That’s all, my dear mamma, and now let me run And send it to heaven at once, For if He don’t get it by Christmas time, He surely will think me a dunce.” The letter was posted, the letter was scanned, With numberless grins by the men Whose duty it was to assort all the waifs That came from the wonderful pen. “Now where’s the dear Lord?” said one of these men; “That’s me,” said another, quite grave. “Here’s a letter, then!”--tossing the missive to him, “And a twopenny stamp you will save.” The letter was opened, the letter was read, There were very few tearless eyes; The reader looked round on the silent group, And then, with a nod, he cries: “Now, boys, there is something in this that I like-- It’s nature right straight up to win, And we’ve all of us got to be lords right here-- So here is my dot to begin.” The dollars flew down on the table like snow, They came from the crowd’s great heart, A letter was written by proxy and signed, The proposer to play the part. And so it came off upon one winter night That there happened this strange affair; A tapping came soft at Mamie’s door, And a very old man stood there; He was clad from his head to his feet so warm, And his beard it was long and white. “Good-even!” he said, as he pushed in a box Then vanished quite out of their sight.