and from all the murmuring and whispering that go on within the
forest.

The little trees stood on tiptoe and waved their green branches for
"Good-by," and the great trees bent their heads to watch him go.

"Not all firs can be Christmas trees," said they; "only those who grow
their best."

The good Fir-tree stood in the children's own room. Round about his
feet were flowers and mosses and green boughs. From his branches hung
toys and books and candies, and at the end of each glossy twig was a
bright glittering Christmas candle.

The doors were slowly opened; the children came running in; and when
they saw the shining lights, and the Christmas tree proudly holding
their presents, they made a ring, and danced about him, singing.

And the Fir-tree was very happy!




PICCOLA.

Suggested by One of Mrs. Celia Thaxter's Poems.

"Story-telling is a real strengthening spirit-bath."--Froebel.