LITTLE JOE—A CHRISTMAS STORY.

’Twas Christmas morn, and little Joe Stood looking out upon the snow With sad and thoughtful face. His childish brow was knit with care; Unlike the smile ’twas wont to wear, It now bore sorrow’s trace. His mother said, “What is it, dear? Come to mamma, and let her hear The story of your grief. I do not like to see you sad On Christmas day, when all are glad. Come here, and find relief, By telling mamma all your woe. What is it troubles little Joe?” “Mamma, I didn’t mean to be One bit unhappy—but you see, I couldn’t help it quite. I don’t feel very good, because ’Tis Christmas day—and Santa Claus, I’m sure, has not done right, To give so many books and toys To all the other little boys, While I have none at all. Why mamma, he brought Charley Spring A basket full of every thing. There was a rubber ball, And books, and marbles, and a top; Enough to fill a little shop. Why couldn’t Santa Claus have said, ‘I’ll carry some to Joe, instead Of giving him so many?’ If I were he, I’m sure I’d go To every boy and girl I know; I wouldn’t pass by any; I’d give them all some toy or book. Mamma”, and here the child’s form shook With sobs of pent-up sorrow; “What makes God give to other boys, A papa, and such lots of toys? ’Tis just one year to-morrow, You say, since God called papa dear Away to Heaven and left us here. Why couldn’t he have stayed? We used to have such lots of fun, Papa and I, how he would run When Christmas games we played. And then the great nice Christmas tree! Sometimes I shut my eyes, and see The house we used to live in. Oh, mamma dear, it makes you cry; Don’t dear mamma, for by and by Like papa, up in heaven, I’ll be a man; and then I’ll go And buy it back, before you know;— And then, on Christmas day I’ll take you, mamma, there to live. And oh! such presents I will give! I’ll have a tree that day, And call in all the girls and boys, And give them, oh! such lots of toys, And if they’re poor, some money. Oh! mamma, ’twont be long to wait. Kiss me, mamma, for at the gate Is little cousin Johnny. Now, mamma dear, please do not cry; I’m going out to play, good bye.” The mother wiped away her tears, And prayed that in the coming years, Her darling little Joe, Might be, as on this Christmas day, Tender and pitiful, alway, Toward every child of woe.