Bessie did not want to leave him, and wished she might have him for her own. But when Mr. Smith, his owner, asked if she would like to give him her dog, and take the parrot, she shook her head, and said, "No, no!" She could not think of parting with her old friend Snip, even for the funny parrot. DORA BURNSIDE. [Illustration] CHRISTMAS. DAINTY little stockings Hanging in a row, Blue and gray and scarlet, In the firelight's glow: Curly-pated sleepers Safely tucked in bed; Dreams of wondrous toy-shops Dancing through each head: Mother, stepping lightly, Plans with tender care, How to give each dreamer Just an equal share. Funny little stockings Hanging in a row, Stuffed with sweet surprises, Down from top to toe,-- Skates and balls and trumpets, Dishes, tops, and drums, Books and dolls and candies, Nuts and sugar-plums. Little sleepers waking: Bless me, what a noise! Wish you merry Christmas, Happy girls and boys! RUTH REVERE. [Illustration: A Merry Christmas to you] THAT GIRL. [Illustration] HER hood is of the common sort, Her dress is very plain, Her apron's long, her sleeves are short, Her name is Mary Jane. She goes to school, and on her way, She always likes to meet The muffin-man, who, every day, Comes marching down the street; Though very fond of study, She dearly loves to eat. H. V. G. [Illustration] [Illustration] WHAT ASTONISHED CHARLEY. CHARLEY had been spending the day with his grandmother. When he was starting for home in the afternoon, she gave him a nice red apple, saying, "Take this to your mother from me." With the apple in his hand, Charley was trudging along through the fields, when he met Peter, the son of a farmer who lived near by. Now Peter was a bad boy, with whom Charley had been told to have nothing to do. But, as Peter greeted him very kindly, how could poor Charley help speaking to him? Pretty soon Peter began to ask questions. "What kind of an apple is that?" said he. "I don't know," said Charley. "Let me look at it," said Peter. Charley did not want him to take it, but hadn't quite courage enough to say "No;" and in a moment Peter had the apple in his hand. "I wonder whether it is sweet, or sour," said he. The picture shows what happened next. Peter munched the apple, while the little boy looked on amazed, not knowing what to do or say. "It's for my mother," gasped out Charley as soon as he could speak. "Why didn't you tell me that before?" said the saucy Peter, handing him back the core. "Here, take the sour thing: I don't want it." Poor Charley had to go home and tell this pitiful story. But he learned a lesson from it that he never forgot. IDA FAY.