This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1872. Excerpt: ... Those the forms I seem to see, Those the voices in my ear, Those the phantoms that for me Make the croquet ground so dear. True, the darkness may descend, Cloud the vision, dim the sight; But I count it as a friend Leading to returning light. Mow the grass, then, roll it fine, Let me dream the dear ones come; Shall not once a day divine Bring the scatter'd wanderers home? Margaret Gatty. THE ANGEL'S STORY. TROUGH the blue and frosty heavens, Christmas stars were shining bright; Glistening lamps throughout the City Almost match'd their gleaming light; While the winter snow was lying, And the winter winds were sighing, Long ago, one Christmas night. While, from every tower and steeple, Pealing bells were sounding clear, (Never with such tones of gladness, Save when Christmas time is near, ) Many a one that night was merry Who had toil'd through all the year. That night saw old wrongs forgiven, Friends, long parted, reconciled; Voices all unused to laughter, Mournful eyes that rarely smiled, Trembling hearts that fear'd the morrow From their anxious thoughts beguiled. Rich and poor felt love and blessing From the gracious season fall; Joy and plenty in the cottage, Peace and feasting in the hall; And the voices of the children Ringing clear above it all Yet one house was dim and darken'd: Gloom, and sickness, and despair, Dwelling in the gilded chambers, Creeping up the marble stair, Even still'd the voice of mourning--For a child lay dying there. Silken curtains fell around him, Velvet carpets hush'd the tread, Many costly toys were lying, All unheeded, by his bed; And his tangled golden ringlets Were on downy pillows spread. The skill of all that mighty City To save one little life was vain; One little thread from being broken, One fatal word from being sp..