[Illustration: THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER VOL. VIII.—NO. 366. JANUARY 1, 1887. PRICE ONE PENNY.] NEW YEAR’S GIFTS. BY MARY ROWLES. “Oh, bonny New Year, pray tell me true, While your birthday bells are ringing, What beautiful work have you come to do? How much of joy shall we find in you? In your wallet of blessings, all fresh and new, What fairy gifts are you bringing?” “For field and garden, asleep in the cold, A wonderful store I carry, Fresh robes for the snowdrops, first to unfold, Pink ruffs for the daisies, fair to behold, New cups for the crocuses, yellow as gold, Wherein shall the sunbeams tarry. “The woods I will clothe in vestures bright, Whose work shall be mine own doing, Anemones there shall be found in white, And bluebells ring by day and by night, And girlies warble with new delight, Old songs of loving and wooing!” “But what do you bring, oh blithe New Year, To human sorrow and sadness?” “For shrouded lives, an horizon clear, For hearts that are desolate, friendship dear, For midnight sufferers, starlight cheer, And morrows of peace and gladness. “To those who have climbed when barely shod, New guerdons for brave endeavour, New flowers to bloom on the graveyard sod, New visions of heavenly heights untrod, Yea, the gifts I bring are the gifts of God, And of love that shall last for ever!” [Illustration: “OLD SONGS.”] _All rights reserved._] MERLE’S CRUSADE. BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY, Author of “Aunt Diana,” “For Lilias,” etc. CHAPTER XII. GAY CHERITON. I was afraid Mrs. Markham did not understand children. Nothing would induce Reggie to let her kiss him; he beat her off in his usual fashion, with a sulky “go, go,” and hid his face on my shoulder. I could see this vexed her immensely, for she had praised his beauty in most extravagant terms. Joyce listened with a perplexed expression on her face. “Have you ever seed an angel, Aunt Adda?” this being her childish abbreviation of Adelaide. “Dear me, nurse! how badly the child speaks. She is more than six years old, you say. Why my Rolf is only seven, and speaks beautifully! What did you say, Joyce?”—very sharply—“seen an angel? What unhealthy nonsense to put into a child’s head! This comes of new-fangled ideas on your mother’s part”—with a glance in my direction. “No, child! of course not. No one has seen an angel.” Joyce looked so shocked at this that I hastened to interpret Mrs. Markham’s speech. “No one sees angels now, Joyce; not as the good people in the Bible used to see them; perhaps we are not good enough. But what put angels into your head, my dear?” “Only Aunt Adda said Reggie was like an angel, and I thought she had seed one. What is a cherub, nurse, dear? Something good to eat?”