EMILY.--Goodness me! What is that thing coming this way? MARY.--I am afraid of it. Is it a man? RUTH.--As I live, it is Uncle Peter! EMILY.--Who is Uncle Peter? RUTH.--He is the man, who, every Christmas, buys as many toys as he can carry, and gives them to good children. Here he comes. (_Enter_ UNCLE PETER, _comically dressed, and covered from head to foot with all sorts of toys, he is followed by boys and girls. He dances and sings to music._) UNCLE PETER'S SONG. "Christmas comes but once a year, once a year, once a year! So follow me, my children dear, children dear, children dear: So follow me, my children dear, on Christmas Eve so joyful!" (_After dancing, he takes_ EMILY _and_ MARY _by the hand, and runs off with them, followed by the rest._) As this is Emily's first play, and she is only nine years old, I hope the critics will not be too severe upon it. If well performed, it will be found, I think, far more amusing in the acting than in the reading. BABY'S PINK THUMBS. The snow had quite covered the ground, The wind whistled fiercely and chill, When a poor little storm-beaten bird Flew down on the broad window-sill. Within, there was comfort and wealth; Gay pictures half covered the wall; The children were happy at play; And the fire shone bright over all. Without, there was famine and frost; Not a morsel of fruit or of grain; And the bird gave a piteous chirp, And tapped with his beak at the pane. Then baby climbed up on a chair, Forgetting his trumpets and drums: He doubled his two little fists, And pointed with both his pink thumbs. "See, see!" and he laughed with delight, "Pretty bird, pretty bird: here he comes!" When the bird, with a bob of his head, Made a peck at the baby's pink thumbs. Then the children called out with great glee, "He thinks they are cherries, or plums, Or pieces of apple; and so He tries to eat baby's pink thumbs." "Poor birdie!" said mamma: "we know That God for his creatures will care; But he gives to his thoughtfuller ones The pleasure of doing their share. "We softly will open the sash, And scatter a handful of crumbs; And, when birdie wants breakfast again, He needn't peck baby's pink thumbs. "He may come day by day, if he will, To a feast on the broad window-ledge, And fly, when he's eaten his fill, To his home in the evergreen hedge." OLIVE A. WADSWORTH. ABOUT FLAX, BARLEY, AND RYE. Arthur had been looking at some pictures in a book; but he did not quite understand what they were: so he called on Uncle Oscar to explain. Uncle Oscar took him on his knee, and said, "This, Arthur, is a picture of the flax-plant, a very useful plant indeed; for from it we make linen. Your apron is linen: so are the collar and wristbands on my shirt.