He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedlar just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;

His droll little mouth was drawn up in a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings—then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle;

But I heard him exclaim ere he drove out of sight,

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!"

'Twas the night after Christmas, and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring—excepting a mouse.

The stockings were flung in haste over the chair,

For hopes of St. Nicholas were no longer there.

The children were restlessly tossing in bed,

For the pie and the candy were heavy as lead;

While mamma in her kerchief, and I in my gown,

Had just made up our minds that we would not lie down,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I went with a dash,

Flung open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave the lustre of noon-day to objects below.

When what to my long anxious eyes should appear

But a horse and a sleigh, both old-fashioned and queer;

With a little old driver, so solemn and slow,

I knew at a glance it must be Dr Brough.

I drew in my head, and was turning around,

When upstairs came the Doctor, with scarcely a sound,

He wore a thick overcoat, made long ago,

And the beard on his chin was white with the snow.

He spoke a few words, and went straight to his work;

He felt all the pulses,—then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

With a nod of his head to the chimney he goes:—

"A spoonful of oil, ma'am, if you have it handy;

No nuts and no raisins, no pies and no candy.

These tender young stomachs cannot well digest

All the sweets that they get; toys and books are the best.

But I know my advice will not find many friends,

For the custom of Christmas the other way tends.

The fathers and mothers, and Santa Claus, too,

Are exceedingly blind. Well, a good-night to you!"

And I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight:

These feastings and candies make Doctors' bills right!"