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I'll hang up my stocking to hold what he brings;
I hope he will fill it with lots of good things;
He must know how dearly I love sugar plums,
I'd like a big box full, when Santa Claus comes.

And now that the snowflakes begin to come down
And the wind whistles sharp, and the branches are
brown,

I don't mind the cold, though my fingers it numbs, 'Cause it brings the time nearer when Santa Claus

comes.

APRIL THE BULL.

BY MARGARET JOHNSON.

"Huzza!" From box and balcony
Rang out the loud exultant cry:
"Huzza! the Matador!"

From floor to roof a glittering maze
Of gorgeous robes and faces fair,
With lustrous laces gleaming rare,
And veils of fluttering gossamer,
And fans that set the air astir,

And flowers that bloom and gems that blaze
Filled all the amphitheatre.

Below them in the sunlit space
Beneath the tranquil April skies,
Two combatants stood face to face:
A milk-white bull, with fiery eyes,
Huge, frantic, mad with rage and pain,

His great head bowed to charge the foe,
And, poising with a cool disdain
His weapon for the fatal blow,

A youth, decked out in gorgeous wise.

A murmurous hush, a breathless pause-
The ladies leaned far out to see.

A flash of scarlet drapery

A plunge-a bellowing roar-a cloud
Of flying dust! Then burst the applause,
With cheer on cheer of wild delight
That rolled the echoing circle round.
And while, low fallen upon the ground,
His victim struggled hard with death,
The hero of the noble fight,

Rained on with flowers from fingers white 'Mid ringing Bravos, smiled and bowed.

66

A child sobbed softly in the crowd.
"Alas, poor bull!" below her breath
She wept.
Alas, poor pretty bull!"
With sad eyes grieved and pitiful,
And down beside him in the sand,
One blossom, wet with tearful dew,
One little crimson rose she threw,
And hid her sweet eyes with her hand.

And still all tongues the victor sang,
"Huzza!" the thundering plaudits rang,
"Huzza! the Matador!"

WHERE DO YOU LIVE?

I knew a man, and his name was Horner,
Who used to live on Grumble Corner-
Grumble Corner in Cross-Patch town-
And he never was seen without a frown.
He grumbled at this, he grumbled at that;
He growled at the dog, he growled at the cat;
He grumbled at morning, he grumbled at
night;

And to grumble and growl was his chief delight.

He grumbled so much at his wife that she
Began to grumble as well as he;

And all the children, wherever they went,
Reflected their parents' discontent.