Our Little Canadian Cousin

e pleasure of the great Yule-tide festival. The Big Brick House seemed particularly full of this happy spirit of the seaso

purse containing, he told his mother, "a dollar all but eighty-five cents," saved toward buying his presents for the family. He also spent mu

ildren wondered, was Aunt Kathie's? It was a spirited little view of the old stone house on Saunder's Island; not so pretty a subject as Mrs. Merrithew's, but set in such a delicate atmosphere of early morning light that even the sombre gray of the stone seemed etherialized

the stiff cardboard covers, and plentifully provided them with blotting-paper, and now she was embroidering the linen cover with autumnal maple-leaves in Dora's favourite colour, a rich, vivid red. As for Dora, though she had no love for needlework, she was

th heavy wreaths, with bunches of red cranberries here and there, making a beautiful contrast to the green. In the other rooms there were boughs over every picture, and autumn leaves, ferns, and dried grasses here and there. Mr. Merrithew was sure to buy some holly and mistletoe at the florist's on Christmas Eve, so places of honour were reserved for these two plants, which have become so closely entwined with all our thoughts of Christmas and its festivities. The holly would adorn the old oil-painting of Mrs. Merrithew's great-aunt, Lady Loveday Gostwycke

he mince-meat, in the big kitchen, with its shining tins, and general air of comfort. Jackie liked to take a share in the cooking, too, and as he was Deborah's pet, he generally got the wherewithal to make a tiny cake or pudding of his own. When it came to the making of the big plum pudding, all the family by turns had to stir it, according to a time-honoured institution. Then Mr. Merrithe

ll the others, and on this occasion it was Jackie who, as the great clock in the hall struck six, came running from room to roo

nd delightful, hung a long row of very fat white pillow-cases! These were hung by long cords from hooks on the curtain-pole. Each pillow-case bore a paper with the name of its owner written on it in large letters

with shining eyes, and cheeks red with excitement, he opened his parcels, and exclaimed over their contents. Truly a fortunate little boy was Jack! There were books-the very books he wanted,-games, a top, the dearest little snow-shoes, a great box of blocks,-evidently Santa

brother. So it went on up the scale, till they had all enjoyed their gifts to the very last of Mr. Merrithew's, an

om in its festal array looked even cheerier than was its wont. By every plate there lay a spray of holly, to be worn during the rest of the day. The breakfast-set was a wonderful one of blue and gold, an heirloom

pt still for so long a time; so he stayed at home with Susan, trying all the new toys and having samples read aloud from each new book. Kitty Grey, decorated

e big drawing-room, and neither Mrs. Merrithew nor Kathie looked as if they had ever seen the inside of a kitchen. Mrs. Merrithew wore her loveliest gown, a shimmering silver-gray silk with lace sleeves and fichu, and lilies-of-the-valley at her neck and in her abundant hair. As for Katherine, in her fawn-coloured dress with trimmings of yellow beads, and deep yellow ros

er white hair, bright, dark eyes, and beautifully arched brows. She was a great favourite with the children, and always carried some little surprise for them in her pocket. A little later came a widowed aunt of Mrs. Merrithew's, fair, fat, and frivolous; and a bachelor uncle

scorted Cousin Sophia, and Marjorie o

e and live with us,-but I don't want Aun

s were pushed back a little, and while nuts and raisins were being discussed, they had also catches, rounds, and choruses. Each person with any pretence to a voice was expected to give one solo at least. Jack

s she found the rest of the party gathered around the fire, telling stories of Auld Lang Syne. As almost every one had been up early that morning, no very lively games seemed to appeal to them; but the children thought no game could be so interesting as these sprightly anecdotes and rose-leaf-scented romances that were being recalled and recounted to-night. "Do you remember-" Cousin Sophia would say; then would follow some entrancing memories, to which Mr. and Mrs. Merrithew, Uncle Bob, and Mrs. Fairley would contribute a running comment of

hey all, according to another time-honoured custom, gathered around the piano, an

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