“But it’s for the soldiers, Horace,” said Grace, with a smile of forbearance toward her brother. “I’m willing to give all my pocket-money; and I mean the other girls shall. If we’re stingy to our country these days, we ought to be shot! ‘Princess Hilda’s’ the best story in the book. I wish Isa Harrington could read it! She wouldn’t make any more mischief between Cassy and me!”
“I like ‘The Lost Sylphid’ the best,” said Prudy; “but was she a great butterfly, do you s’pose? The stories are all just as nice; just like book stories. I shouldn’t think anybody made ’em up. Aunt ’Ria can write as good as the big girls to the grammar-school. I promised not to believe a single word; and I sha’n’t. I’m glad she called it my Fairy Book.”
CRISTOBAL.
A CHRISTMAS LEGEND.
Long ago, in fair Burgundy, lived a lad named Cristobal. His large dark eyes lay under the fringe of his lids, full of shadows; eyes as lustrous as purple amethysts, and, alas! as sightless.
He had not always been blind, as perhaps a wild and passionate lad, named Jasper, might have told you. On a certain Christmas Eve, a merry boy was little Cristobal, as he pattered along to church, trying with his wooden shoes to keep time to the dancing bells. In his hand he carried a Christmas candle of various colors. Never, he thought, was a rainbow so exquisitely tinted as that candle. Carefully he watched it when it winked its sleepy eye, eagerly begging his mamma to snuff it awake again. How gayly the streets twinkled with midnight lanterns! And how mortifying to the stars to be outdone by such a grand illumination!
A new painting had just been hung in the church,—the Holy Child, called by the people “Little Jesus,” with an aureola about his head. Cristobal looked at this picture with reverent delight; and, to his surprise, the Holy Child returned his gaze: wherever he went, the sweet, sorrowful eyes followed him. There was a wondrous charm in that pleading glance. Why was it so wistful? What had those deep eyes to say?
The air was cloudy with the breath of frankincense and myrrh. Deep voices and the heavy organ sounded chants and anthems. There were prayers to the coming Messiah, and the sprinkling of holy water; and, at last, the midnight mass was ended.