MISTRESS SANTA CLAUS.

BY MARGARET EYTINGE.

Much you have heard about old Santa Claus, But naught, I think, of his good-natured wife, And I must tell you of her, dears, because In sweet'ning life for you she spends her life. She's small and plump, her eyes are brown and bright, And in a cave she lives that's full of toys, Where, with her servant-elves, from morn till night She's busy working for the girls and boys. Yes, quite three hundred days out of the year Never a single idle hour have they, For well they know there would be many a tear Should sugar-plums fall short on Christmas-day. And oh! and oh! the sugar-plums! Some brown, some red, and some as white As snow-flakes when they first alight; Some holding grapes, some holding cherries, Some bits of orange, some strawberries, Some tasting like a peach or rose, And some that dainty nuts inclose: Some filled with cream, and some with spice, And all so very, very nice. And oh! and oh! the sugar-plums! Those funny, funny little elves, They cram the boxes and the drums, The bags, the baskets, and the shelves; They heap them high upon the floor, In closets pack them two miles long, And when there is no room for more They sing a jolly elfish song; And pretty Mistress Santa Claus, With sugar sticking to her thumbs And tiny fingers, laughs aloud To think of that great eager crowd Of smiling girls and smiling boys Awaiting for her husband's toys. And oh! and oh! the sugar-plums! And now, sweethearts, when merry Christmas comes, And you greet Santa's gifts with loud applause, Remember who sent you the sugar-plums, And give one cheer for Mistress Santa Claus.