to be called a sled. "Won't slide at all," said Arthur, when it came up for discussion a few days later; "that pine runner keeps rough and runs hard; the oak one runs easier, and so it keeps turning round with a fellow."

"Well, that is a nice looking thing," said Mr,Clark, after a critical examination; "and that's where my nails go to." This as his eye fell upon the manner in which the beams were fastened to the runners.

"Yes," replied Mrs. Clark, calmly, "there are some nails in it. But it has carried the boys' steel traps and hatchet over the prairie from slough to slough, and the money that Barkham the fur buyer paid them bought Arthur's boots and Bert's geography and arithmetic."

"Guess we can get up something better than that; but what can it be made out of? Everything is under the snow."

To this question Mrs. Clark ventured no reply, and after a few minutes of silence Mr. Clark resumed:

"Now, there's that old-fashioned bedstead in the corn-crib; do you ever expect to use that?"

"Not as long as we can have our lighter and more convenient ones," was the reply.

"That's just the thing; good hard maple sides and post. I want two sides and one post; where's the lantern?"

"Why, you don't intend to get them to-night, do you; why won't to-morrow do?"

"Too many eyes. I'm going to surprise them with something good in the sled line this time."

After a long delay Mrs. Clark opened the door, admitted a man, a lantern, sundry parts of a bedstead, and a wide, dark-colored board.

The man laid down his load carefully.

"That's the board I had saved to make a little table; but we may as well use it for this purpose as any. Pretty fine, though; it is solid black walnut. Mighty lucky," continued he, "that I put the work-bench down cellar in the fall. I can work there now and not wake up the boys; besides it would be pretty cold in the kitchen."

The Clarks had come to their Iowa home three years before, and had managed to make themselves a comfortable home. And, by close economy, they had managed to secure what are termed "the necessaries of life." But, at the time we write of, the war had just ceased, and few luxuries found their way into their humble home.

"You take the light and lead the way," said Mr. Clark, again gathering up his load. Down the cellar they went, past the bins of turnips, carrots, and potatoes, which were carefully stored according to variety, Peachblows and Pink-eyes and Goodrich.

"Wish that bin was old York State apples," said Mr. Clark; for, like others from the East, with him this king of fruit was sadly missed. "Set your lamp on the pork-barrel and turn that box over for me to saw on; there, that's all right. Now the first thing

I must do is to cut them the right length. I think that four feet long would be about right for our boys."

As Mr. Clark soliloquized thus, as much to himself as to Mrs. Clark, he took down the "family saw" and ran it across the hard maple boards, where he had scored the four-foot mark.

"Well, now who's had this saw? It isn't but a little while since I filed it, and now it slides over this piece of maple as though it was a glass bottle."

"When was it you filed it, Cyrus?" asked Mrs. Clark.

"I think, yes, it was when I built the corn-crib."

"Was it? Well, it is singular that you find it dull. You built the crib a year ago last October."

Mr. Clark grinned. A few minutes more of exercise with the saw brought out the remark, punctuated according to motion of that instrument.

"This-is-about-the-hardest-wood-I-ever-got-hold

"There," as the waste ends finally wore off, "that's done. Here, don't throw those pieces in your kindling-pile; I want them for beams to the sled. They are just long enough."

Mr. Clark put the two runners together and fastened them firmly in the vise. Then taking down his drawing-knife he ran his thumb over the edge. Something in its condition seemed to surprise him. He looked at it and then at Mrs. Clark.

"Yes, the boys have had it. Bert says the pine runner gets rough and full of gravel. I suppose that they dulled the drawingknife in smoothing it." Mrs. Clark was trying hard not to laugh.

Mr. Clark set to work with the dull tool, and it did much better than he expected, so that he soon had the runners turned to a really handsome curve; for, be it understood, he was a pretty clever workman when he set to do a job of carpentering.

"Wish you'd pick me out the three-eighths bit," said he, laying hold of the brace.

"Which one is it?" handing him a half dozen assorted sizes. "That's it," with a kind of superior tone, denoting that he could tell the size at a glance. Then he bored two holes at the point of the curve through the runners and took them out of the vise. "Runners will be seven inches deep," said he. "I'll mortise down an inch and a quarter and let the beams in the top of the runner; and I must not forget to bevel them so they will stand bracing."

After a few minutes' work Mr. Clark set the runners upon the work-bench and proceeded to put in the beams. "Fits just like a T," said he. "And now for some good oak pins; guess I've got pin timber enough." And from a cobwebbed sill he took down some short, oaken blocks which looked "tough," just as Mr. Clark said. He split out the required number and whittled them down to the proper size. Then he bored three holes in each end of the beams and well down into the runners. The perspiration on his brow shone in the lamplight, and so did the frost on the limestone foundation, a few feet away. Then he

drove in the pins, shaped out the black walnut board elaborately, and fastened it securely upon the beams.

"Now for a roller," said he, taking up the leg of the old bedstead; and sawing it off to length, he trimmed it down to shape. After some rummaging among old irons he secured some solid iron bands on each end. Then, after a longer hunt, two bolts were found, each four inches long and three eighths of an inch. thick. He set one end of the roller in the vise and bored holes deep enough to receive the bolts, and in the center he mortised clear through, making a hole three eighths of an inch wide and an inch and a half long.

"What's that for?" asked Mrs. Clark.

"That's for the tongue; this sled is going to be a clipper." With these remarks he put his coat on, relighted his lantern and sallied forth, but soon returned with a fork handle, from which the broken hay-fork had been removed.

"Couldn't be better shaped," said he; "just the curve, exactly." Another half hour's work and that part was completed; a neat, strong tongue well mortised and braced in the roller, and the roller was set between the runners and the bolts driven in firmly.

"Goes together well," said Mr. Clark complacently.

Mrs. Clark looked at it admiringly and thought it was completed. But Mr. Clark turned it over and passed his hand along the runners. "Wear rough, do they? We'll see about that," and he dons his coat again and selects some tools.

"Where now?" is Mrs. Clark's query.

"Not far," is the cheery reply, and he is soon back with two long, narrow strips of iron, with holes in them at regular intervals. "Yes," said he, with a slight tone of apology, "these are off our wagon-box; but the box will be worn out soon anyway, and the iron was broken." Then he set to work and ironed the long runners, and when this was done they together admired the masterpiece-finished.

"How pleased they will be," said Mr. Clark, with unusual glory; "I'm glad I made it. It seems as if the children nowadays don't enjoy themselves half as well as they used to, and-what! one o'clock? Well, I can hardly believe it; I am not sleepy a bit."

However, it was much later than usual that morning when the smoke from the Clark residence rose in the clear, frosty air, and it was much earlier the evening following when Mr. Clark sent the children off to bed, because he "had not slept well the night before, and they all wanted to be up early on Christmas."

But before daylight on Christmas morning Mr. Clark was out, and as dawn broke-cold and gray-the last chores were done; not a thing left for the boys to do. And he came in just as the boys were tumbling down-stairs, big and little together. What a rush there was for the row of stockings, and what shouts of joy from the younger, as genuine shouts as though many dollars had been expended in filling the stockings.

What they really contained was some nice pop-corn, singularly like what they enjoyed quite often of an evening, some molasses

candy, or sorghum candy if you please, and a little paper of raisins. What think you of that, ye pampered pets of rich men? For the older boys some heavy woolen mittens, which they thanked mother for, and were satisfied. After breakfast, however, Mr. Clark stepped to the "summer" kitchen door, and opening it, he quickly drew in the fine, strong sled, that looked so keen and saucy, as it sat evenly on its well shod runners. How their eyes opened! Arthur was first to speak, "Oh, pa! is that for 'us boys'?"

Something seemed to rise in Mr. Clark's throat so that he could not reply at once, but he put the cross bar of the tongue in Arthur's hands, who cried, "Oh, Bert, let's hurry and get the chores done and go and try it. I know it will just fly."

"No chores to-day, boys; this is your play-day all day long. I'll tend to all the work."

Surprise kept them speechless; such a thing had never been heard of. But if the day was all theirs they must lose no time. So the new racer was dragged out, with all the pride of a volunteer fire company with a new engine. And from that time till the young turkey was set on the table, smoking hot and browned to a turn, they were not seen. They appreciate the fare, however; their appetite for turkey is good, even though in lieu of cranberry sauce they have wild grapes picked from the stems and pressed into a stone jar, and sorghum poured over and through them. After keeping long enough they become better than one would suppose. But there was one luxury, a cup of jelly from wild plums, and made with real sugar. Taken altogether the meal was not one for hungry boys to complain of. And what wonderful tales there were to tell of that new sled. It made such a pretty track; and ran so easy; and would hold up the whole family; and ran so straight; and over one course its speed had been simply marvelous, etc.

After dinner, away again, and just as Bert is saying to Arthur, in a boyish glow, "I think pa and ma were pretty good to sit up and make us this," Mr. and Mrs. Clark are standing in the doorway watching them, and Mr. Clark says in a voice a little tremulous, "Pears like they are having about as much fun as we used to have."

HEN over the plains of Judea was sung the angelic announcement, "Unto us a son is born, unto us a king is given," it heralded the advent into the world of a being whose life and teachings were to have ever afterward a marked influence on the moral and ethical development of humanity. The king of peace had come.

Jesus of Nazareth, as a Jew, was born in the midst of a nation representing the ethical standard of the world. Justice and equity were had as the objects of the statutory laws of that nation, the