"I tell you what, boys," said Harry, "you'll be taken up if you run people down in that way." "Why didn't she clear the coast when I told her to?" said Albert. "Why didn't you steer your sled out of the way?" returned Harry. "I didn't hit her, did I?" said Albert. "No; but you were trying to see how near you could come without hitting her," replied Harry. "It's too bad to treat a poor old woman so!" "So it was," said Frank. "What shall we do about it?" "That's for Albert to say," exclaimed Harry. "Well," replied Albert, "the right thing will be to offer to drag her bundles for her on the sled." "That's it!" said the other two boys. By this time they had reached the place where the poor woman was moving slowly along under her heavy burdens. She seemed very tired, and sighed often as she picked her way timidly over the frozen snow. "We are sorry we frightened you," said Albert. "We did not mean to do any harm. Put your baskets on this sled, and we will drag them for you as far as you want to go." "Well, you are little gentlemen, after all," said the woman, "and I'm sorry I was so vexed with you." "You had cause," said Frank: "we were to blame." Then she put her two baskets and the tin pail on the sled; and the three boys escorted her to her home, where she thanked them heartily for the way in which they had made amends for Albert's bad steering. UNCLE CHARLES. [Illustration] [Illustration] WHO IS IT? SURELY a step on the carpet I hear, Some quiet mouse that is creeping so near. Two little feet mount the rung of my chair: True as I live, there is somebody there! Ten lily fingers are over my eyes, Trying to take me by sudden surprise; Then a voice, calling in merriest glee, "Who is it? Tell me, and you may go free." "Who is it? Leave me a moment to guess. Some one who loves me?" The voice answers, "Yes." "Some one who's fairer to me than the flowers, Brighter to me than the sunshiny hours? Darling, whose white little hands make me blind Unto all things that are dark and unkind; Sunshine and blossoms, and diamond and pearl,-- Papa's own dear little, sweet little girl!" GEORGE COOPER. [Illustration] A LETTER TO SANTA CLAUS. THE little boy who got his aunt to write this letter for him wishes to have it appear in "The Nursery," so that Santa Claus may be sure to read it. When it is _printed_, the little boy says he can read it himself. Here is the letter:-- DEAR MR. SANTA CLAUS,--Please, sir, could you not bring me a team of goats next Christmas? I do want them so much! Other little boys no bigger than I am have a pair of goats to play with.