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in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

UNIVERSITY PRESS WELCH, BIGELOW, & Co.,

CAMBRIDGE.

[The songs written by Emily Huntington Miller, and set to music by H. M. T.]

WINDOW that looks down the west,
Where the cloud-thrones and islands rest,
One evening to my random sight
Showed forth this picture of delight.

The shifting glories were all gone,
The clear blue stillness coming on ;
And the sweet shade 'twixt day and night
Held the old earth in tender light.

Up in the ether hung the horn
Of a young moon; and, newly born
From out the shadows, trembled far
The shining of a single star.

Only a hand's-breadth was between :
They held the heaven, and burned serene.

Then my glance fell from that fair sky
A little down, yet very nigh,
And from the earth-dark twinkled clear
One other spark — of human cheer.
A home-smile, telling where there stood
A farmer's house, beneath the wood.

Only these three in all the space,
Far telegraphs of various place.

Which seeing, this glad thought was mine:

Be it but little candle-shine,

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865. by TICKNOR AND FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

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Or golden disk of moon that swings
Nearest of all the heavenly things,
Or world in awful distance small,
One Light doth feed and liken all!
Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney.

IT

THE TWO CHRISTMAS EVENINGS.

T was a beautiful Christmas Eve. A light snow had fallen just before night, and made the city streets look clean. Icicles hanging from the roofs glittered in the moonlight, and the trees on the Common looked as if they had put on white feathers for a festival.

Mrs. Rich's parlor was brighter than the moonlight splendor without. The folding-doors were open. A clear flame rose from the cannel-coal as it split and crackled in the grate; the gas burned brilliantly in the chandeliers; at the upper end of the room was an Evergreen Tree, with a sparkling crown of little lamps, and gay with festoons of ribbons and trinkets; the carpet was like a meadow enamelled with flowers; the crimson damask curtains glowed in the brilliant light; and the gilded paper on the walls gleamed here and there, like the bright edges of little sunset clouds. Mrs. Rich was just putting some finishing touches to the Tree, when the great clock on the staircase struck seven, and the pattering of feet was heard. The door opened, and Papa entered with a group of children. There was Frank, in all the dignity of his fourteen years; earnest-looking Isabel, who was about twelve; Ellen, not much over nine, whose honest face had an expression of thoughtfulness beyond her years; and little Alice, whom they named Pet Poodle, because she had such a quantity of soft, light curls falling about her face. In her first stammering of this name she called herself Petty Poo, and they all adopted her infantile abbreviation.

The Evergreen Tree and the treasures with which it was covered produced but slight excitement in the minds of the older children. As they approached it, they said, "How tastefully you have arranged it, mamma!" and they quietly awaited the distribution of the gifts, like well-trained young ladies and gentlemen. But little Alice, who opened her blue eyes on the world only four years before, had not done wondering yet. She capered up to the tree, and, pointing to one thing after another, said, "Is n't dat pooty?" A large doll had been sent to her last Christmas, and when she spied one seated among the green boughs, she gave a little shout, and cried out, “Dare is nudder dolly for Petty Roo!" She was told Aunt Jane had sent it to her, and she received it with unalloyed satisfaction. "Tank Aunt Jane," said she. "Dis dolly's eyes is b'oo, and tudder dolly's is b'ack." Well pleased with this variety in her family, she hugged it up, and seated herself on the carpet to examine the little blue rosettes on the shoes.