rays. All of the long varnished blinds at the doors of the rooms opening upon this central, stone-paved courtyard, had long since been closed securely, for it was middle December and the house must be sealed early against the noon heat of midsummer.

Francisco might have gone inside, where the darkened rooms furnished some relief, but he chose to sit crosslegged on the red and white square stones of the patio, with his back to the main part of the house, so that the mother and sisters could not see what occupied his busy hands.

Francisco's father was dead, and he, with his mother, La Señora Anita Maria Lacevera de Gonzalez, and his two sisters, Elena Maria, who was six, and Guillerma Maria, who was eighteen and very beautiful, lived in the Calle[1] Cerrito, in the city of Buenos Aires, Argentine Republic, South America.

Francisco, himself, was nine, and his uncle who was a colonel in the army and who supported his widowed sister and her family, expected him to be a soldier also. His great-grandfather had been a general, and because of his services during the revolution that had brought Argentina her liberty nearly one hundred years ago, his family was one of the most distinguished in the Republic. Francisco's own grandfather had given his life for his patria during the ten years' blockade of Buenos Aires, when the French and English forces combined to overcome General Rosas, who then commanded the city. His mother and his uncle, the Colonel Juan Carlos Lacevera, were then little children, but they were fired with a patriotism that comes only to those who have given of their own flesh and blood for native land.

"El Coronel Lacevera" was now retired, and with his wife and six daughters lived in a spacious, palatial home in the Calle San Martin facing the beautiful plaza, or park, where the statue of General San Martin on his rearing charger stands, a constant reminder to the hundreds of little Argentine boys and girls who daily play in the pebbled space around it, of the wonderful man, who, like George Washington, was first in war, first in peace, and is still first in the hearts of his countrymen.

The monthly allowance bestowed by Colonel Lacevera upon his sister was enough to keep them in comfort, but not sufficient to allow them to live in luxury, and to-day, because Francisco had not enough money to buy his Christmas pesebre at the toyshop, he was doing what many little boys of that country do,—he was making his own.

Now, you must know right here, that Christmas in these South American countries is not the greatest festival of the entire year, as it is with us; it is simply one of the many that are celebrated at frequent intervals, for Argentina is a land of fiestas; there is scarcely a month that does not allow three or four holidays from school because of some fiesta, either of church or state. Although they do not celebrate this great holiday as we do with Christmas trees and visits from Santa Claus, they have something in their places, and it is the "Coming of the Three Kings." In anticipation of this, all over the Republic, children erect pesebres or mangers.

A pesebre consists of a miniature open shed, or merely a roof of straw or bark, underneath which, in a tiny box, lies a porcelain baby doll to represent the infant Christ. Bending in adoration at the head of the wee box that holds this image kneels the mother, Mary, and at the foot, with folded hands, stands Joseph, the father. About them, placed in sand or moss, that forms the floor of the stable or yard, are figures to represent the worshipful neighbours, also the farm-yard fowls and animals; cows and donkeys predominating. They look like Noah's Ark people, stiff-legged and prim. Now all of this remains unmoved, a spot of reverent adoration, throughout Christmas week, New Year's day, and until "twelfth night," or the fifth of January. It is awaiting the great event for which it was erected, the "Coming of the Three Kings."

On that auspicious night, through the same magical means that aid Santa Claus to enter the homes of North American children while their eyes are closed in sleep, come the three richly decorated and delicately carved kings on miniature camels with costly trappings and bags of spices on their little brown backs.

On the morning of the sixth of January the children awake, all eagerness to see the arrivals of the night. Rushing to the pesebre they find the three little wooden kings kneeling beside the manger, the faithful camels standing in the grass without, and all about on the floor are the wonderful gifts that the kings have brought to their pesebre. Indeed, as you can see, it was erected for just this purpose, exactly as the fir tree with its glittering ornaments forms the nucleus in other lands for Christmas gifts.

It was these wooden people and animals that Francisco's small fingers were fashioning. He had cut himself several times, and one finger was bound up in an old handkerchief, but his enthusiasm was not lessened because of it. He knew exactly how they should be carved, and how many there should be, for in the toyshop windows there had been sets of them on display for weeks, and Francisco had studied each necessary bit carefully.

In a box beside him were the finished product of his penknife. Joseph and Mary were completed even to the paint; Mary's red and blue gown and Joseph's yellow robe were not quite dry, and the cows were too vividly red, but that would not matter; Elena was no severe critic, and it was mainly for her that he was carving them. Elena had been ill and this was to be her "getting well" gift. The flashing light in her great brown eyes when she should see them would be sufficient reward for cut fingers and weary back. Besides, this was the summer vacation and there was nothing else to do.

In all countries on the other side of the Equator the seasons are the reverse of those on this side. In Argentina the children are having their summer holidays in December, January, and February, when the children of the Northern hemisphere are busy in school, or skating and sleighing; and they are having their winter when the Northern children are dressed in their thinnest clothing and are going away to the seashore or mountains.

Francisco had just completed a wonderful set of bent pin horns for one of the red cows when he was called to breakfast, and it was half-past eleven. But you see their meal hours, like their seasons, are different from ours. At eight o'clock he had had his cafe con leche, or coffee with hot milk, and a roll; at half-past eleven he was accustomed to having his breakfast; at four he would have máte or tea; and at seven dinner would be served.

Francisco gathered his treasures into the tin box, and hurried to the bath-room to make himself ready for almuerzo. When he entered the dining-room his mother and Guillerma, the elder sister, were seated, and the little Indian serving-maid was arranging a tray to carry to Elena in the bed-room.

The meal consisted of beef broth and rice, called caldo and the usual beginning to every hearty meal in that country; then came fried fish with garlic, followed by a stew of mutton, carrots, cabbage, potatoes, and large pieces of yellow pumpkin, this being the native dish of the Argentines and commonly known as