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garden and saw the milk-woman's two little daughters playing together, it made her sad, for she thought of her own little sister Angela, and she could not help crying. She would sometimes cry as she sat at work, and once or twice she could not help sobbing on the fairy-godmother's knee, and thus wetting with her tears the old lady's lace handkerchief.

Nobody asked her why she cried so; but neither did anybody scold her for it. She fancied that nobody noticed it; but they did though, and the old lady, who was, you must remember, like a fairy-godmother, she knew why she cried, and why she was unhappy, just as well as if she had been told.

The old Professor and the fairy-godmother used often to have a deal of talk together, and whenever they saw Seraphine looking sad they only nodded at one another.

It was now twelve months since Seraphine's father and mother died, and she had been nearly that time with the fairy-godmother; but for all that she could not help crying when she thought of Angela, and it seemed to her as if she thought more and more of her every day. The fairy-godmother and the old Professor

seemed to be always talking together; and one day, a. very short time before Christmas, Seraphine was told that she would do no more lessons up stairs at present, for that the Professor had set out on a journey, and would not be back till the day before Christmas.

Barbele and the Professor's old servant had now such a deal of work to do; but as it was always up stairs in the Professor's kitchen, Seraphine was never invited there; she sat down stairs with the fairy godmother, hemming a blue silk handkerchief, which was to be given to the Professor at Christmas.

The fairy-godmother told Seraphine that the Professor had sent his compliments down stairs, and invited them to go up that evening; for this was the morning before Christmas day, and to see his Christmas-tree and the presents which the Christ-child would bring. Seraphine and her fairy-godmother sent up their presents to the Professor by Barbele to his servant, for her to give the Christ-child.

The evening came! Seraphine was dressed in a white frock, with blue shoes on, and a broad blue sash; and her beautiful hair, which the fairy godmother combed and brushed herself, fell over her

shoulders, just like an angel's in a picture. When she was dressed, her fairy-godmother looked into her face with such a deal of love in her eyes, and kissed her. Seraphine could not help crying; she clung to the dear old lady and sobbed so; for her heart was very full, and she had been trying not to cry all day, and now she had once begun, she felt as if she never could leave off. She was thinking so much about Angela and wondering what sort of a Christmas she would keep with the stern great-uncle in Bavaria.

The fairy-godmother told her she must not cry, and she gave her rose-water to wash her face in, and told her to be quick, for the Professor himself had come down stairs to conduct them up, because he was so impatient at them being so long.

Up stairs they went;—the fairy-godmother in her gray satin, and little high-heeled shoes, and her lace cap and handkerchief, leaning on the Professor's arm, and the little Seraphine following, and Barbele following her with a lamp in her hand, for she too was going up stairs; and the Professor's servant was standing at the top with another lamp in her hand, so that they had plenty of light.

The door at the top of the stairs opened at once into the Professor's best parlor. The door swung open; the Christmas-tree blazed out like a tree of beautiful fire; and just below it stood Seraphine's little sister Angela. The Professor had been into Bavaria and fetched her; she was his present to Seraphine: they were not going to be parted again.

Seraphine and Angela sprang into each other's arms: they laughed and cried together.

That was the happiest Christmas that the Professor and the fairy-godmother ever spent. And no wonder!



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EAR Father, while daily and hourly I see
New proofs of your

tender affection for me, It may please you to know how your kindness has

won The return that it calls for the love of a son.

Some fathers are distant, and stern, and severe;
They speak to command, and they govern by fear; )
Obedience, indeed, by such means may be won, ,
But they fail in securing the love of a son.

teach me,

Your praise, my dear Father, is easy to earn ;

I feel it a pleasure to learn; And when tasks are concluded, and duties are done, You share in the pastimes and sports of your son.

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