File:St. Nicholas (serial) (1873) (14761395096).jpg

Identifier: stnicholasserial31dodg (find matches)
Title: St. Nicholas (serial)
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Dodge, Mary Mapes, 1830-1905
Subjects: Children's literature
Publisher: (New York : Scribner & Co.)
Contributing Library: Information and Library Science Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Digitizing Sponsor: University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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f pantomime,And he thrilled, as any little Briton would. Oh, he had an education, though it was nt just like yours;And his treasures — he d a cunning coat ofskin,With some amber beads for Sunday —Well, perhaps he wore them Monday,For in fact I dont suppose they knewfrom t other day the one day !And he had — his pride and his delight — alittle sword of tin. His ambitions they were simple — you must really not forgetThat he lived about two thousand years ago:Just to paint his body blue,Like the warriors that he knew,To have a little knife of flint and arrow-heads a few,And to follow when they cut the mistletoe. But, alas for little Carry, he was very, very young!And at New Years, when the people met toroamThrough the forest, high and low,Where the sacred branches grow,(For they made the greatest fuss about apiece of mistletoe!)He was left to mind the baby girl at home. Now this sturdy little Briton had no sofa soft to sit on;He d a lumpy, humpy bearskin for a bed; CARADOC. 699
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He had neither toy nor book,And he could nt even lookFrom the window, for there was nt onein any niche or nook,Save a hole cut in the ceiling overhead. It was very still and lonely, for his baby sister sleptIn her cradle — if she had one — by the fire.His mama was making callsOn some neighbors who were Gauls,Just across the street — I mean theditch — and past the willow walls,In a badger-skin pelisse, her best attire. His papa and all his brothers, they were marching with the others ;Then he sternly knit his little British brow;Though the boys of old were trumps,For they never cried for bumps,(And I dont believe they ever had themeasles or the mumps,)Yet they liked a picnic just as you do now. And his pride he had to swallow when he thought how they would followIn the splendid great procession up the glade,With the Druids, all bedightIn their gleaming robes of white,Chanting hymns and saying verses whilethey marched, with all their might,Till they stood beneath the oak-trees s

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