In cold countries, where the windows could not be left open, folks hung their purses near the fireplace, believing that St. Nicholas would come down the chimney and leave his presents for them. And after the knitted purses went out of fashion they hung up their stockings, which closely resembled the old-time purses, so that there would be plenty of room for the Christmas presents, and old St. Nicholas (Santa Claus), who lived on through all the ages, would know he had been expected. That is how the Christmas stocking came to be used, and why it will be used for many generations to come in thousands of homes on each succeeding Christmas Eve.... —_L. Frank Baum._ _I’ll Tell You a Story._ I’ll tell you a story About Jack a Nory— And now my story’s begun, I’ll tell you another About Jack, his brother, And now my story’s done. _One, Two, Buckle My Shoe._ One, two, Buckle my shoe; Three, four, Shut the door; Five, six, Pick up sticks; Seven, eight, Lay them straight; Nine, ten, A good fat hen; Eleven, twelve, Who will delve? Thirteen, fourteen, Maids a-courting; Fifteen, sixteen, Maids a-kissing; Seventeen, eighteen, Maids a-waiting; Nineteen, twenty, My stomach’s empty. [Illustration] THE EAGLE. He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring’d with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls. —_Alfred, Lord Tennyson._ THE BEE AND THE FLOWER. The bee buzz’d up in the heat. “I am faint for your honey, my sweet.” The flower said, “Take it, my dear; For now is the spring of the year. So come, come!” “Hum!” And the bee buzz’d down from the heat. And the bee buzz’d up in the cold When the flower was withered and old. “Have you still any honey, my dear?” She said, “It’s the fall of the year, But come, come!” “Hum!” And the bee buzzed off in the cold. —_Alfred, Lord Tennyson._ [Illustration] THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT. The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat; They took some honey, and plenty of money Wrapped in a five pound note. The Owl looked up to the moon above, And sang to a small guitar, “O lovely pussy! O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are,— You are, What a beautiful Pussy you are!”