WHO IS KRISS KRINGLE?
IT was the day before Christmas--always a day of restless, hopeful excitement among the children; and my thoughts were busy, as is usual at this season, with little plans for increasing the gladness of my happy household.

The name of the good genius who presides over toys and sugar plums was often on my lips, but oftener on the lips of the children.
"Who is Kriss Kringle, mamma ?" asked a pair of rosy lips, close to my ear, as I stood at the kitchen table, rolling out and cutting cakes.
I turned at the question, and met the earnest gaze of a couple of bright eyes, the roguish owner of which had climbed into a chair for the purpose of taking note of my doings.
I kissed the sweet lips, but did not answer.
"Say, mamma?
Who is Kriss Kringle ?" persevered the little one.
"Why, don't you know ?" said I, smiling.
"No, mamma.

Who is he ?" "Why, he is--he is--Kriss Kringle." "Oh, mamma! Say, won't you tell me ?" "Ask papa when he comes home," I returned, evasively.
I never like deceiving children in any thing.

And yet, Christmas after Christmas, I have imposed on them the pleasant fiction of Kriss Kringle, without suffering very severe pangs of conscience.
Dear little creatures! how fully they believed, at first, the story; how soberly and confidingly they hung their stockings in the chimney corner; with what faith and joy did they receive their many gifts on the never-to-be-forgotten Christmas morning! Yes, it is a pleasant fiction; and if there be in it a leaven of wrong, it is indeed a small portion.
"But why won't you tell me, mamma ?" persisted my little interrogator.

"Don't you know Kriss Kringle ?" "I never saw him, dear," said I.
"Has papa seen him ?" "Ask him when he comes home." "I wish Krissy would bring me, Oh, such an elegant carriage and four horses, with a driver that could get down and go up again." "If I see him, I'll tell him to bring you just such a nice carriage." "And will he do it, mamma ?" The dear child clapped his hands together with delight.
"I guess so." "I wish I could see him," he said, more soberly and thoughtfully.
And then, as if some new impression had crossed his mind, he hastened down from the chair, and went gliding from the room.
Half an hour afterwards, as I came into the nursery, I saw my three "olive branches," clustered together in a corner, holding grave counsel on some subject of importance; at least to themselves.