The children kissed her softly, and tenderly, and went quietly off to bed, almost forgetting that Santa Claus was to come that very night, and fill their stockings. But he did not forget; for when the bright morning sun of the clear, cold Christmas day, peeped in at the nursery windows, he certainly must have thought that Santa Claus had considered these children as pinks and patterns of perfection; for there were no less than three new dolls; a grocery store for them to shop at; two elegant workboxes with "Anna" engraved on the lid of one, and "Clara" on the other; a beautiful writing desk, filled with nice pens, ink, and paper, for Johnny; a mahogany tool chest, completely filled, for Harry; an entire set of Cousin Alice's excellent and interesting books, for Bennie and Willie; a most charming little book, called "Our Little Girls," for Lillie; and two others by the same author, who is a minister's daughter, as good as she is lovely, for Minnie. These were called "A Little Leaven," and "Two Little Heaps;" and, let me tell you, Minnie considers them the best books that ever were written; while little Fanny's favorite was, and is, the "R. R. B's." It is the history of a dear little Robin Redbreast and his family; and Fanny says it is a "darling book."
The dear absent soldier brother was not forgotten. On the table were two packages directed to him. One of these contained a dozen fine hem-stitched pocket handkerchiefs, with the initials of his name beautifully worked in a corner of each. This had been done by Anna, who was very skilful in such dainty arts. The other package consisted of a complete set of Dickens's works, in strong, plain, but very neat bindings.
"Oh," cried Harry. "George will stand on his head for joy, when he gets these; he will be so tickled! The very books he was longing to own!"
"How can he stand on his head?" asked Bennie.
"This way," answered Harry, and going up to the side of the room, he suddenly lifted his feet in the air, resting them against the wall, and stared at Bennie with his face upside down, and the top of his head on the carpet.
The children laughed heartily, and as a matter of course, all the little brothers began to practise standing on their heads, till they nearly got fits of apoplexy, with the blood rushing the wrong way.
After they had returned from church that morning, every one of them wrote to George a company letter, wishing him a merry Christmas, telling him all the wonderful news about the little play; and informing him of the quantity of mittens which were coming. They had now finished eighteen pairs, to add to their fifty-seven, which their friends had given them. These seventy-five pairs, were to be sent away the next morning; but George's presents were to be carefully kept until his happy return home; for he could not put all those precious books in his knapsack; and as he might move from one place to another very often, the less he had to carry in marching, the better.
The smaller children felt an almost reverential affection for their soldier brother, who had gone away to fight for his country. They regarded his letters as perfect wonders, with Camp Ellsworth printed on the outside of them, and such superb capital D's and G's inside. The little ones did not know how he could make such splendid letters, sitting in a tent, with the paper on his knee, ready to drop it at a moment's warning, and flash fire and shot out of his gun, at the enemy. They were quite sure he would be a General in a very short time, and Johnny had serious thoughts of writing to the good President Lincoln, and asking him to make George one without waiting any longer. Indeed, he did write: but his mother thought it best not to send it: though I was sure the President would have liked it very much; for he is such a great-hearted, good man, such a pure patriot; and I happen to know that he loves children dearly. Here is Johnny's letter. It is a simple, funny little epistle, full of trust and faith.
"President Lincoln:
"My Dear Friend,—Do you know my big brother George? He is such a good boy! He never teazes us, or the cat, or anybody. Mary O'Reilly (that's our kitten) always rubs her coat against his legs when he comes home; so you see that is a sign that he is never cruel to animals. He once tried to teach a crab at Long Branch to dance the polka, but he didn't hurt it; no, indeed!