Fairy Tales from the German Forests. Margaret Arndt

to hang on the tree.

      They then took Hansi's pine cones and ferns and grasses, and even collected the frozen cobwebs from the bushes and let the spray from the waters fall on them, and lo and behold the most exquisite gems were ready for the decoration of the Christmas tree.

      "You live at No 7, and you are seven years old," said the eldest of the dwarfs, addressing Hansi. ("However could he have known that?" she thought.) "Perhaps you can tell me what seven times seven makes?"

      Hansi considered a moment. "No, we have not got so far as that in our arithmetic," she replied. "Twice seven is fourteen, that I know."

      "Seven times seven is forty-nine and is the square of seven," said the dwarf. "Always remember that, for it is a most important fact in magic!"

      Rummaging in his pocket, he took out a note-book and handed a leaf to her with this diagram and inscription on it

      "Thank you very much," said Hansi, feeling duly impressed, and she never forgot this difficult fact in the multiplication table again, although she didn't quite understand the diagram, and in fact lost it on the way home.

      The dwarfs set up the tree on a clear part of the path, and made a little stand for it of boughs cleverly intertwined and moss between. With many a hop, skip and jump of delight, they hung the silver fish and cones and nuts on it; the cobwebs spread themselves out all over the tree. Then they took red holly berries, and stuck them on the boughs where they turned into red candles. All red and silver was this loveliest of Christmas trees!

      When it was finished, there was a momentary thrill, and they all cried "Ah!" in tones of wonder.

      Then Hansi noticed that a noble herd of deer had approached; the gentle creatures were looking on with the deepest interest.

      The woodbirds came flying from all directions, and sang as if it were summer.

      "Dear little men, I think I really ought to be going home," said Hansi anxiously.

      "Come along then," said Himself. "You must go back along the high road as you came; we are going to play hide-and-seek; but don't be afraid, you shall have your tree all right, even if it disappears sometimes."

      They now marched along in the homeward direction; but as soon as they came to the road leading out of the woods they vanished without a word of leave-taking. However, Hansi had not gone far down the road, when she saw a Christmas tree that appeared to be walking by itself across the fields. Other people noticed it too, from the road, and thought how queer it looked. "But of course, there is someone behind carrying it," they said to themselves, and thought no more of the matter. People expect the usual before the unusual, naturally enough, and yet sometimes the unusual is the most probable, as in this case.

      Hansi was late for dinner, and had a fine scolding.

      "At all events, I suppose you have done your lessons," said her mother.

      "No, mother, I'm afraid not."

      "Well, I never, playing again, I suppose? Now, what can be the use of playing, I should like to know?"

      This was an exceptionally stupid question; for most people know that little folk cannot grow mentally without play, any more than flowers can grow without sunshine. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," is not only a proverb, but it is true as well.

      It was Christmas Eve. Hansi trembled with excitement. "What's the use of getting so lively, Hansi?" said her big brother Paul despondently. "You know quite well that we are not to have any tree this year. I shall get a new pair of boots, and you a pinafore; these we should have to have anyway. That's not what I call a merry Christmas."

      "But the bells are ringing, don't you hear them? and don't you think you can see just a glimmer of silver through the door?" said Hansi.

      The children looked—well, really, perhaps there was a tree there after all.

      Just then their father came in tired, but jolly. "Is everything ready? It is late, I have been detained so long," he said. "Can we go in at once?"

      "I haven't got a tree this year," whispered his wife in an anxious voice. "I thought we couldn't afford it. What's the use of a Christmas tree? We can spend our money in a more practical way!"

      "What nonsense. No Christmas tree! but of course you are joking," said her husband. "I will slip in, and light the candles." And with these words he disappeared into the inner room, now so mysterious to the waiting children.

      Poor Mrs. Herzchen nearly began to cry. If only she had not been so silly! Never, never would she neglect to get a tree again! She ought to have considered other people's prejudices, and Christmas—O well, Christmas only comes once a year.

      "I've got a surprise for mother," whispered Gretel, aged ten. "I am going to recite a Christmas poem." "And I am going to tell the Christmas story from the Bible," said Hansi. "I have made a letter-box for father," said Fritz.

      "Hush, hush! the bells are ringing—don't you hear them across the snow?" the children whispered to one another. "But what is that other bell, so soft, so musical and clear!" "That is the summons for us all to enter," said Paul.

      The door flew open, and there stood the most lovely Christmas tree they had ever seen or imagined, all dazzling with silver; silver cones, silver fish, silver nuts and acorns, and red candles, and over all an exquisitely spun cobweb of frost. "That's my surprise for you all," said Hansi, who could hardly contain herself for joy. "I found the tree, and the dear, darling Heinzelmen brought it home for me."

      Mrs. Herzchen was speechless with astonishment, and her husband not less so. "How very extravagant," they said, "but how elegant and beautiful! Who can have given it to us?"

      But now the children began to sing the sweet German carol sung in every house on Christmas Eve: "O peaceful night, O holy night," and then, in her earnest, childish way, Hansi told the story of the birth of the Christ-child in the Manger of Bethlehem.

      Gretel then stood up eagerly to recite the carol she had learnt at school.

THE CHILDREN'S KING.
"Dear children come
On Christmas night,
Put on your gowns
Of purest white.
Speak not a word
Until you see
The sweet Christ child
On Mary's knee.
There lies the Babe
An Infant frail.
Is this the King
Whom nations hail?
A helpless King!
His mother's arm
Must hold him safe
From threatened harm.
A tender King,
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