{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_17630/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_17630","id":"gutenberg_17630","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17630","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Category: Short Stories","Christmas","Christmas -- Poetry","Christmas stories"],"text":"Produced by Jason Isbell, Sankar Viswanathan, and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                     [Illustration: Frontispiece]\n\n\n                               CHRISTMAS\n                               TALES AND\n                               CHRISTMAS\n                                 VERSE\n\n\n\n                                  BY\n\n                             EUGENE FIELD\n\n\n                   ILLUSTRATIONS BY FLORENCE STORER\n\n\n                               NEW YORK\n                        CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n                                MCMXII\n\n\n\n                          Copyright, 1912, by\n                        CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS\n\n                        Published October, 1912\n\n\n\n\n    _Why do the bells of Christmas ring?\n    Why do little children sing?\n\n    Once a lovely shining star,\n    Seen by shepherds from afar,\n    Gently moved until its light\n    Made a manger's cradle bright.\n\n    There a darling baby lay,\n    Pillowed soft upon the hay;\n    And its mother sung and smiled:\n    \"This is Christ, the holy Child!\"\n\n    Therefore bells for Christmas ring,\n    Therefore little children sing._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n  _Dedication_\n\n  _Christmas Hymn_\n\nThe Symbol and the Saint\n\n  _Christmas Eve_\n\nJoel's Talk with Santa Claus\n\n  _The Three Kings of Cologne_\n\nThe Coming of the Prince\n\n  _Chrystmasse of Olde_\n\nThe Mouse and the Moonbeam\n\n  _Christmas Morning_\n\nMistress Merciless\n\n  _Bethlehem-Town_\n\nThe First Christmas Tree\n\n  _Star of the East_\n\n\nFULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS\n\nIN COLORS\n\n\nThe angels came through the forest to where the little tree\n  stood, and gathering around it, they touched it with\n  their hands                                           _Frontispiece_\n\nFor he was so generous that he gave away all these pretty\n  things as fast as he made them\n\nSo Barbara fell asleep\n\n\"But why shouldn't I be merry?\" asked the little mauve\n  mouse. \"To-morrow is Christmas, and this is Christmas\n  eve\"\n\n\"'What sound was that?' cried Dimas, for he was exceeding\n  fearful\"\n\nThe strange allegory of the lame boy's speech filled her with\n  awe\n\nBut, with her babe upon her knee,\nNaught recked that Mother of the tree\n\nTo seek that manger out and lay\n  Our gifts before the child--\nTo bring our hearts and offer them\nUnto our King in Bethlehem!\n\n\nIN BLACK-AND-WHITE\n\n\n    Sing, O my heart!\nSing thou in rapture this dear morn\nWhereon the blessed Prince is born!\n\nOh, hush thee, little Dear-my-Soul,\n  And close thine eyes in dreaming\n\n\"This must be the house where the prince will stop,\"\n  thought Barbara\n\nShare thou this holy time with me,\n  The universal hymn of love\n\n\"Nestle down close, fold your hands, and shut your dear\n  eyes!\"\n\n\"They are killing me!\" cried the tree\n\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS\nTALES AND\nCHRISTMAS\nVERSE\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration:\n\n    Sing, O my heart!\n    Sing thou in rapture this dear morn\n    Whereon the blessed Prince is born!\n]\n\n\nCHRISTMAS HYMN\n\n\n          Sing, Christmas bells!\n    Say to the earth this is the morn\n    Whereon our Savior-King is born;\n      Sing to all men,--the bond, the free,\n    The rich, the poor, the high, the low,\n      The little child that sports in glee,\n    The aged folk that tottering go,--\n          Proclaim the morn\n          That Christ is born,\n    That saveth them and saveth me!\n\n          Sing, angel host!\n    Sing of the star that God has placed\n    Above the manger in the East;\n       Sing of the glories of the night,\n    The virgin's sweet humility,\n       The Babe with kingly robes bedight,--\n    Sing to all men where'er they be\n          This Christmas morn;\n          For Christ is born,\n    That saveth them and saveth me!\n\n           Sing, sons of earth!\n    O ransomed seed of Adam, sing!\n    God liveth, and we have a king!\n       The curse is gone, the bond are free--\n    By Bethlehem's star that brightly beamed,\n       By all the heavenly signs that be,\n    We know that Israel is redeemed;\n          That on this morn\n          The Christ is born\n    That saveth you and saveth me!\n\n           Sing, O my heart!\n    Sing thou in rapture this dear morn\n    Whereon the blessed Prince is born!\n       And as thy songs shall be of love,\n    So let my deeds be charity\n       By the dear Lord that reigns above,\n    By Him that died upon the tree,\n          By this fair morn\n          Whereon is born\n    The Christ that saveth all and me!\n\n\n\n\nTHE SYMBOL AND THE SAINT\n\nOnce upon a time a young man made ready for a voyage. His name was\nNorss; broad were his shoulders, his cheeks were ruddy, his hair was\nfair and long, his body betokened strength, and good-nature shone from\nhis blue eyes and lurked about the corners of his mouth.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" asked his neighbor Jans, the forge-master.\n\n\"I am going sailing for a wife,\" said Norss.\n\n\"For a wife, indeed!\" cried Jans. \"And why go you to seek her in\nforeign lands? Are not our maidens good enough and fair enough, that\nyou must need search for a wife elsewhere? For shame, Norss! for\nshame!\"\n\nBut Norss said: \"A spirit came to me in my dreams last night and said,\n'Launch the boat and set sail to-morrow. Have no fear; for I will\nguide you to the bride that awaits you.' Then, standing there, all\nwhite and beautiful, the spirit held forth a symbol--such as I had\nnever before seen--in the figure of a cross, and the spirit said: 'By\nthis symbol shall she be known to you.'\"\n\n\"If this be so, you must need go,\" said Jans. \"But are you well\nvictualled? Come to my cabin, and let me give you venison and bear's\nmeat.\"\n\nNorss shook his head. \"The spirit will provide,\" said he. \"I have no\nfear, and I shall take no care, trusting in the spirit.\"\n\nSo Norss pushed his boat down the beach into the sea, and leaped into\nthe boat, and unfurled the sail to the wind. Jans stood wondering on\nthe beach, and watched the boat speed out of sight.\n\nOn, on, many days on sailed Norss--so many leagues that he thought he\nmust have compassed the earth. In all this time he knew no hunger nor\nthirst; it was as the spirit had told him in his dream--no cares nor\ndangers beset him. By day the dolphins and the other creatures of the\nsea gambolled about his boat; by night a beauteous Star seemed to\ndirect his course; and when he slept and dreamed, he saw ever the\nspirit clad in white, and holding forth to him the symbol in the\nsimilitude of a cross.\n\nAt last he came to a strange country--a country so very different from\nhis own that he could scarcely trust his senses. Instead of the rugged\nmountains of the North, he saw a gentle landscape of velvety green;\nthe trees were not pines and firs, but cypresses, cedars, and palms;\ninstead of the cold, crisp air of his native land, he scented the\nperfumed zephyrs of the Orient; and the wind that filled the sail of\nhis boat and smote his tanned cheeks was heavy and hot with the odor\nof cinnamon and spices. The waters were calm and blue--very different\nfrom the white and angry waves of Norss's native fiord.\n\nAs if guided by an unseen hand, the boat pointed straight for the\nbeach of this strangely beautiful land; and ere its prow cleaved the\nshallower waters, Norss saw a maiden standing on the shore, shading\nher eyes with her right hand, and gazing intently at him. She was the\nmost beautiful maiden he had ever looked upon. As Norss was fair, so\nwas this maiden dark; her black hair fell loosely about her shoulders\nin charming contrast with the white raiment in which her slender,\ngraceful form was clad. Around her neck she wore a golden chain, and\ntherefrom was suspended a small symbol, which Norss did not\nimmediately recognize.\n\n\"Hast thou come sailing out of the North into the East?\" asked the\nmaiden.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Norss.\n\n\"And thou art Norss?\" she asked.\n\n\"I am Norss; and I come seeking my bride,\" he answered.\n\n\"I am she,\" said the maiden. \"My name is Faia. An angel came to me in\nmy dreams last night, and the angel said: 'Stand upon the beach\nto-day, and Norss shall come out of the North to bear thee home a\nbride.' So, coming here, I found thee sailing to our shore.\"\n\nRemembering then the spirit's words, Norss said: \"What symbol have\nyou, Faia, that I may know how truly you have spoken?\"\n\n\"No symbol have I but this,\" said Faia, holding out the symbol that\nwas attached to the golden chain about her neck. Norss looked upon it,\nand lo! it was the symbol of his dreams,--a tiny wooden cross.\n\nThen Norss clasped Faia in his arms and kissed her, and entering into\nthe boat they sailed away into the North. In all their voyage neither\ncare nor danger beset them; for as it had been told to them in their\ndreams, so it came to pass. By day the dolphins and the other\ncreatures of the sea gambolled about them; by night the winds and the\nwaves sang them to sleep; and, strangely enough, the Star which before\nhad led Norss into the East, now shone bright and beautiful in the\nNorthern sky!\n\nWhen Norss and his bride reached their home, Jans, the forge-master,\nand the other neighbors made great joy, and all said that Faia was\nmore beautiful than any other maiden in the land. So merry was Jans\nthat he built a huge fire in his forge, and the flames thereof filled\nthe whole Northern sky with rays of light that danced up, up, up to\nthe Star, singing glad songs the while. So Norss and Faia were wed,\nand they went to live in the cabin in the fir grove.\n\nTo these two was born in good time a son, whom they named Claus. On\nthe night that he was born wondrous things came to pass. To the cabin\nin the fir grove came all the quaint, weird spirits,--the fairies, the\nelves, the trolls, the pixies, the fadas, the crions, the goblins, the\nkobolds, the moss-people, the gnomes, the dwarfs, the water-sprites,\nthe courils, the bogles, the brownies, the nixies, the trows, the\nstille-volk,--all came to the cabin in the fir grove, and capered\nabout and sang the strange, beautiful songs of the Mist-Land. And the\nflames of old Jans's forge leaped up higher than ever into the\nNorthern sky, carrying the joyous tidings to the Star, and full of\nmusic was that happy night.\n\nEven in infancy Claus did marvellous things. With his baby hands he\nwrought into pretty figures the willows that were given him to play\nwith. As he grew older, he fashioned, with the knife old Jans had made\nfor him, many curious toys,--carts, horses, dogs, lambs, houses,\ntrees, cats, and birds, all of wood and very like to nature. His\nmother taught him how to make dolls too,--dolls of every kind,\ncondition, temper, and color; proud dolls, homely dolls, boy dolls,\nlady dolls, wax dolls, rubber dolls, paper dolls, worsted dolls, rag\ndolls,--dolls of every description and without end. So Claus became at\nonce quite as popular with the little girls as with the little boys of\nhis native village; for he was so generous that he gave away all these\npretty things as fast as he made them.\n\nClaus seemed to know by instinct every language. As he grew older he\nwould ramble off into the woods and talk with the trees, the rocks,\nand the beasts of the greenwood; or he would sit on the cliffs\noverlooking the fiord, and listen to the stories that the waves of the\nsea loved to tell him; then, too, he knew the haunts of the elves and\nthe stille-volk, and many a pretty tale he learned from these little\npeople. When night came, old Jans told him the quaint legends of the\nNorth, and his mother sang to him the lullabies she had heard when a\nlittle child herself in the far-distant East. And every night his\nmother held out to him the symbol in the similitude of the cross, and\nbade him kiss it ere he went to sleep.\n\nSo Claus grew to manhood, increasing each day in knowledge and in\nwisdom. His works increased too; and his liberality dispensed\neverywhere the beauteous things which his fancy conceived and his\nskill executed. Jans, being now a very old man, and having no son of\nhis own, gave to Claus his forge and workshop, and taught him those\nsecret arts which he in youth had learned from cunning masters. Right\njoyous now was Claus; and many, many times the Northern sky glowed\nwith the flames that danced singing from the forge while Claus moulded\nhis pretty toys. Every color of the rainbow were these flames; for\nthey reflected the bright colors of the beauteous things strewn round\nthat wonderful workshop. Just as of old he had dispensed to all\nchildren alike the homelier toys of his youth, so now he gave to all\nchildren alike these more beautiful and more curious gifts. So little\nchildren everywhere loved Claus, because he gave them pretty toys, and\ntheir parents loved him because he made their little ones so happy.\n\n[Illustration: For he was so generous that he gave away all these\npretty things as fast as he made them.]\n\nBut now Norss and Faia were come to old age. After long years of love\nand happiness, they knew that death could not be far distant. And one\nday Faia said to Norss: \"Neither you nor I, dear love, fear death; but\nif we could choose, would we not choose to live always in this our son\nClaus, who has been so sweet a joy to us?\"\n\n\"Ay, ay,\" said Norss; \"but how is that possible?\"\n\n\"We shall see,\" said Faia.\n\nThat night Norss dreamed that a spirit came to him, and that the\nspirit said to him: \"Norss, thou shalt surely live forever in thy son\nClaus, if thou wilt but acknowledge the symbol.\"\n\nThen when the morning was come Norss told his dream to Faia, his wife;\nand Faia said:\n\n\"The same dream had I,--an angel appearing to me and speaking these\nvery words.\"\n\n\"But what of the symbol?\" cried Norss.\n\n\"I have it here, about my neck,\" said Faia.\n\nSo saying, Faia drew from her bosom the symbol of wood,--a tiny cross\nsuspended about her neck by the golden chain. And as she stood there\nholding the symbol out to Norss, he--he thought of the time when first\nhe saw her on the far-distant Orient shore, standing beneath the Star\nin all her maidenly glory, shading her beauteous eyes with one hand,\nand with the other clasping the cross,--the holy talisman of her\nfaith.\n\n\"Faia, Faia!\" cried Norss, \"it is the same,--the same you wore when I\nfetched you a bride from the East!\"\n\n\"It is the same,\" said Faia, \"yet see how my kisses and my prayers\nhave worn it away; for many, many times in these years, dear Norss,\nhave I pressed it to my lips and breathed your name upon it. See\nnow--see what a beauteous light its shadow makes upon your aged face!\"\n\nThe sunbeams, indeed, streaming through the window at that moment,\ncast the shadow of the symbol on old Norss's brow. Norss felt a\nglorious warmth suffuse him, his heart leaped with joy, and he\nstretched out his arms and fell about Faia's neck, and kissed the\nsymbol and acknowledged it. Then likewise did Faia; and suddenly the\nplace was filled with a wondrous brightness and with strange music,\nand never thereafter were Norss and Faia beholden of men.\n\nUntil late that night Claus toiled at his forge; for it was a busy\nseason with him, and he had many, many curious and beauteous things to\nmake for the little children in the country round about. The colored\nflames leaped singing from his forge, so that the Northern sky seemed\nto be lighted by a thousand rainbows; but above all this voiceful\nglory beamed the Star, bright, beautiful, serene.\n\nComing late to the cabin in the fir grove, Claus wondered that no sign\nof his father or of his mother was to be seen. \"Father--mother!\" he\ncried, but he received no answer. Just then the Star cast its golden\ngleam through the latticed window, and this strange, holy light fell\nand rested upon the symbol of the cross that lay upon the floor.\nSeeing it, Claus stooped and picked it up, and kissing it reverently,\nhe cried: \"Dear talisman, be thou my inspiration evermore; and\nwheresoever thy blessed influence is felt, there also let my works be\nknown henceforth forever!\"\n\nNo sooner had he said these words than Claus felt the gift of\nimmortality bestowed upon him; and in that moment, too, there came to\nhim a knowledge that his parents' prayer had been answered, and that\nNorss and Faia would live in him through all time.\n\nAnd lo! to that place and in that hour came all the people of\nMist-Land and of Dream-Land to declare allegiance to him: yes, the\nelves, the fairies, the pixies,--all came to Claus, prepared to do his\nbidding. Joyously they capered about him, and merrily they sang.\n\n\"Now haste ye all,\" cried Claus,--\"haste ye all to your homes and\nbring to my workshop the best ye have. Search, little hill-people,\ndeep in the bowels of the earth for finest gold and choicest jewels;\nfetch me, O mermaids, from the bottom of the sea the treasures hidden\nthere,--the shells of rainbow tints, the smooth, bright pebbles, and\nthe strange ocean flowers; go, pixies, and other water-sprites, to\nyour secret lakes, and bring me pearls! Speed! speed you all! for\nmany pretty things have we to make for the little ones of earth we\nlove!\"\n\nBut to the kobolds and the brownies Claus said: \"Fly to every house on\nearth where the cross is known; loiter unseen in the corners, and\nwatch and hear the children through the day. Keep a strict account of\ngood and bad, and every night bring back to me the names of good and\nbad that I may know them.\"\n\nThe kobolds and the brownies laughed gleefully, and sped away on\nnoiseless wings; and so, too, did the other fairies and elves.\n\nThere came also to Claus the beasts of the forest and the birds of the\nair, and bade him be their master. And up danced the Four Winds, and\nthey said: \"May we not serve you, too?\"\n\nThe Snow King came stealing along in his feathery chariot. \"Oho!\" he cried,\n\"I shall speed over all the world and tell them you are coming. In town and\ncountry, on the mountain-tops and in the valleys,--wheresoever the cross is\nraised,--there will I herald your approach, and thither will I strew you a\npathway of feathery white. Oho! oho!\" So, singing softly, the Snow King\nstole upon his way.\n\nBut of all the beasts that begged to do him service, Claus liked the\nreindeer best. \"You shall go with me in my travels; for henceforth I\nshall bear my treasures not only to the children of the North, but to\nthe children in every land whither the Star points me and where the\ncross is lifted up!\" So said Claus to the reindeer, and the reindeer\nneighed joyously and stamped their hoofs impatiently, as though they\nlonged to start immediately.\n\nOh, many, many times has Claus whirled away from his far Northern home\nin his sledge drawn by the reindeer, and thousands upon thousands of\nbeautiful gifts--all of his own making--has he borne to the children\nof every land; for he loves them all alike, and they all alike love\nhim, I trow. So truly do they love him that they call him Santa Claus,\nand I am sure that he must be a saint; for he has lived these many\nhundred years, and we, who know that he was born of Faith and Love,\nbelieve that he will live forever.\n\n[Illustration: Oh, hush thee, little Dear-my-Soul, And close thine\neyes in dreaming.]\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS EVE\n\n\n    Oh, hush thee, little Dear-my-Soul,\n      The evening shades are falling,--\n    Hush thee, my dear, dost thou not hear\n      The voice of the Master calling?\n\n    Deep lies the snow upon the earth,\n      But all the sky is ringing\n    With joyous song, and all night long\n      The stars shall dance, with singing.\n\n    Oh, hush thee, little Dear-my-Soul,\n      And close thine eyes in dreaming,\n    And angels fair shall lead thee where\n      The singing stars are beaming.\n\n    A shepherd calls his little lambs,\n      And he longeth to caress them;\n    He bids them rest upon his breast,\n      That his tender love may bless them.\n\n    So, hush thee, little Dear-my-Soul,\n      Whilst evening shades are falling,\n    And above the song of the heavenly throng\n      Thou shalt hear the Master calling.\n\n\n\n\nJOEL'S TALK WITH SANTA CLAUS\n\n\nOne Christmas eve Joel Baker was in a most unhappy mood. He was\nlonesome and miserable; the chimes making merry Christmas music\noutside disturbed rather than soothed him, the jingle of the\nsleigh-bells fretted him, and the shrill whistling of the wind around\nthe corners of the house and up and down the chimney seemed to grate\nharshly on his ears.\n\n\"Humph,\" said Joel, wearily, \"Christmas is nothin' to me; there _was_\na time when it meant a great deal, but that was long ago--fifty years\nis a long stretch to look back over. There is nothin' in Christmas\nnow, nothin' for _me_ at least; it is so long since Santa Claus\nremembered me that I venture to say he has forgotten that there ever\nwas such a person as Joel Baker in all the world. It used to be\ndifferent; Santa Claus _used_ to think a great deal of me when I was\na boy. Ah! Christmas nowadays ain't what it was in the good old\ntime--no, not what it used to be.\"\n\nAs Joel was absorbed in his distressing thoughts he became aware very\nsuddenly that somebody was entering or trying to enter the room. First\ncame a draught of cold air, then a scraping, grating sound, then a\nstrange shuffling, and then,--yes, then, all at once, Joel saw a pair\nof fat legs and a still fatter body dangle down the chimney, followed\npresently by a long white beard, above which appeared a jolly red nose\nand two bright twinkling eyes, while over the head and forehead was\ndrawn a fur cap, white with snowflakes.\n\n\"Ha, ha,\" chuckled the fat, jolly stranger, emerging from the chimney\nand standing well to one side of the hearth-stone; \"ha, ha, they don't\nhave the big, wide chimneys they used to build, but they can't keep\nSanta Claus out--no, they can't keep Santa Claus out! Ha, ha, ha.\nThough the chimney were no bigger than a gas pipe, Santa Claus would\nslide down it!\"\n\nIt didn't require a second glance to assure Joel that the new-comer\nwas indeed Santa Claus. Joel knew the good old saint--oh, yes--and he\nhad seen him once before, and, although that was when Joel was a\nlittle boy, he had never forgotten how Santa Claus looked.\n\nNor had Santa Claus forgotten Joel, although Joel thought he had; for\nnow Santa Claus looked kindly at Joel and smiled and said: \"Merry\nChristmas to you, Joel!\"\n\n\"Thank you, old Santa Claus,\" replied Joel, \"but I don't believe it's\ngoing to be a very merry Christmas. It's been so long since I've had a\nmerry Christmas that I don't believe I'd know how to act if I had\none.\"\n\n\"Let's see,\" said Santa Claus, \"it must be going on fifty years since\nI saw you last--yes, you were eight years old the last time I slipped\ndown the chimney of the old homestead and filled your stocking. Do you\nremember it?\"\n\n\"I remember it well,\" answered Joel. \"I had made up my mind to lie\nawake and see Santa Claus; I had heard tell of you, but I'd never seen\nyou, and Brother Otis and I concluded we'd lie awake and watch for you\nto come.\"\n\nSanta Claus shook his head reproachfully.\n\n\"That was very wrong,\" said he, \"for I'm so scarey that if I'd known\nyou boys were awake I'd never have come down the chimney at all, and\nthen you'd have had no presents.\"\n\n\"But Otis couldn't keep awake,\" explained Joel. \"We talked about\neverythin' we could think of, till father called out to us that if we\ndidn't stop talking he'd have to send one of us up into the attic to\nsleep with the hired man. So in less than five minutes Otis was sound\nasleep and no pinching could wake him up. But _I_ was bound to see\nSanta Claus and I don't believe anything would've put me to sleep. I\nheard the big clock in the sitting-room strike eleven, and I had begun\nwonderin' if you never were going to come, when all of a sudden I\nheard the tinkle of the bells around your reindeers' necks. Then I\nheard the reindeers prancin' on the roof and the sound of your\nsleigh-runners cuttin' through the crust and slippin' over the\nshingles. I was kind o' scared and I covered my head up with the sheet\nand quilts--only I left a little hole so I could peek out and see what\nwas goin' on. As soon as I saw you I got over bein' scared--for you\nwere jolly and smilin' like, and you chuckled as you went around to\neach stockin' and filled it up.\"\n\n\"Yes, I can remember the night,\" said Santa Claus. \"I brought you a\nsled, didn't I?\"\n\n\"Yes, and you brought Otis one, too,\" replied Joel. \"Mine was red and\nhad 'Yankee Doodle' painted in black letters on the side; Otis's was\nblack and had 'Snow Queen' in gilt letters.\"\n\n\"I remember those sleds distinctly,\" said Santa Claus, \"for I made\nthem specially for you boys.\"\n\n\"You set the sleds up against the wall,\" continued Joel, \"and then you\nfilled the stockin's.\"\n\n\"There were six of 'em, as I recollect?\" said Santa Claus.\n\n\"Let me see,\" queried Joel. \"There was mine, and Otis's, and Elvira's,\nand Thankful's, and Susan Prickett's--Susan was our help, you know.\nNo, there were only five, and, as I remember, they were the biggest we\ncould beg or borrer of Aunt Dorcas, who weighed nigh unto two hundred\npounds. Otis and I didn't like Susan Prickett, and we were hopin'\nyou'd put a cold potato in her stockin'.\"\n\n\"But Susan was a good girl,\" remonstrated Santa Claus. \"You know I put\ncold potatoes only in the stockin's of boys and girls who are bad and\ndon't believe in Santa Claus.\"\n\n\"At any rate,\" said Joel, \"you filled all the stockin's with candy and\npop-corn and nuts and raisins, and I can remember you said you were\nafraid you'd run out of pop-corn balls before you got around. Then you\nleft each of us a book. Elvira got the best one, which was 'The\nGarland of Frien'ship,' and had poems in it about the bleeding of\nhearts, and so forth. Father wasn't expectin' anything, but you left\nhim a new pair of mittens, and mother got a new fur boa to wear to\nmeetin'.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" said Santa Claus, \"I never forgot father and mother.\"\n\n\"Well, it was as much as I could do to lay still,\" continued Joel,\n\"for I'd been longin' for a sled, an' the sight of that red sled with\n'Yankee Doodle' painted on it jest made me wild. But, somehow or\nother, I began to get powerful sleepy all at once, and I couldn't keep\nmy eyes open. The next thing I knew Otis was nudgin' me in the ribs.\n'Git up, Joel,' says he; 'it's Chris'mas an' Santa Claus has been\nhere.' 'Merry Chris'mas! Merry Chris'mas!' we cried as we tumbled out\no' bed. Then Elvira an' Thankful came in, not more 'n half dressed,\nand Susan came in, too, an' we just made Rome howl with 'Merry\nChris'mas! Merry Chris'mas!' to each other. 'Ef you children don't\nmake less noise in there,' cried father, 'I'll hev to send you all\nback to bed.' The idea of askin' boys an' girls to keep quiet on\nChris'mas mornin' when they've got new sleds an' 'Garlands of\nFrien'ship'!\"\n\nSanta Claus chuckled; his rosy cheeks fairly beamed joy.\n\n\"Otis an' I didn't want any breakfast,\" said Joel. \"We made up our\nminds that a stockin'ful of candy and pop-corn and raisins would stay\nus for a while. I _do_ believe there wasn't buckwheat cakes enough in\nthe township to keep us indoors that mornin'; buckwheat cakes don't\nsize up much 'longside of a red sled with 'Yankee Doodle' painted onto\nit and a black sled named 'Snow Queen.' _We_ didn't care how cold it\nwas--so much the better for slidin' downhill! All the boys had new\nsleds--Lafe Dawson, Bill Holbrook, Gum Adams, Rube Playford, Leander\nMerrick, Ezra Purple--all on 'em had new sleds excep' Martin Peavey,\nand he said he calculated Santa Claus had skipped him this year 'cause\nhis father had broke his leg haulin' logs from the Pelham woods and\nhad been kep' indoors six weeks. But Martin had his ol' sled, and he\ndidn't hev to ask any odds of any of us, neither.\"\n\n\"I brought Martin a sled the _next_ Christmas,\" said Santa Claus.\n\n\"Like as not--but did you ever slide downhill, Santa Claus? I don't\nmean such hills as they hev out here in this _new_ country, but one of\nthem old-fashioned New England hills that was made 'specially for boys\nto slide down, full of bumpers an' thank-ye-marms, and about ten times\nlonger comin' up than it is goin' down! The wind blew in our faces and\nalmos' took our breath away. 'Merry Chris'mas to ye, little boys!' it\nseemed to say, and it untied our mufflers an' whirled the snow in our\nfaces, jist as if it was a boy, too, an' wanted to play with us. An\nol' crow came flappin' over us from the cornfield beyond the meadow.\nHe said: 'Caw, caw,' when he saw my new sled--I s'pose he'd never seen\na red one before. Otis had a hard time with _his_ sled--the black\none--an' he wondered why it wouldn't go as fast as mine would. 'Hev\nyou scraped the paint off'n the runners?' asked Wralsey Goodnow.\n'Course I hev,' said Otis; 'broke my own knife an' Lute Ingraham's\na-doin' it, but it don't seem to make no dif'rence--the darned ol'\nthing won't go!' Then, what did Simon Buzzell say but that, like's\nnot, it was because Otis's sled's name was 'Snow Queen.' 'Never did\nsee a girl sled that was worth a cent, anyway,' sez Simon. Well, now,\nthat jest about broke Otis up in business. 'It ain't a girl sled,' sez\nhe, 'and its name ain't \"Snow Queen\"! I'm a-goin' to call it \"Dan'l\nWebster,\" or \"Ol'ver Optic,\" or \"Sheriff Robbins,\" or after some other\nbig man!' An' the boys plagued him so much about that pesky girl sled\nthat he scratched off the name, an', as I remember, it _did_ go better\nafter that!\n\n\"About the only thing,\" continued Joel, \"that marred the harmony of\nthe occasion, as the editor of the _Hampshire County Phoenix_ used to\nsay, was the ashes that Deacon Morris Frisbie sprinkled out in front\nof his house. He said he wasn't going to have folks breakin' their\nnecks jest on account of a lot of frivolous boys that was goin' to the\ngallows as fas' as they could! Oh, how we hated him! and we'd have\nsnowballed him, too, if we hadn't been afraid of the constable that\nlived next door. But the ashes didn't bother us much, and every time\nwe slid side-saddle we'd give the ashes a kick, and that sort of\nscattered 'em.\"\n\nThe bare thought of this made Santa Claus laugh.\n\n\"Goin' on about nine o'clock,\" said Joel, \"the girls come\nalong--Sister Elvira an' Thankful, Prudence Tucker, Belle Yocum,\nSophrone Holbrook, Sis Hubbard, an' Marthy Sawyer. Marthy's brother\nIncrease wanted her to ride on _his_ sled, but Marthy allowed that a\nred sled was her choice every time. 'I don't see how I'm goin' to\nhold on,' said Marthy. 'Seems as if I would hev my hands full keepin'\nmy things from blowin' away.' 'Don't worry about yourself, Marthy,'\nsez I, 'for if you'll look after your things, I kind o' calc'late I'll\nmanage not to lose _you_ on the way.' Dear Marthy--seems as if I could\nsee you now, with your tangled hair a-blowin' in the wind, your eyes\nall bright and sparklin', an' your cheeks as red as apples. Seems,\ntoo, as if I could hear you laughin' and callin', jist as you did as I\ntoiled up the old New England hill that Chris'mas mornin'--a-callin':\n'Joel, Joel, Joel--ain't ye ever comin', Joel?' But the hill is long\nand steep, Marthy, an' Joel ain't the boy he used to be; he's old, an'\ngray, an' feeble, but there's love an' faith in his heart, an' they\nkind o' keep him totterin' tow'rd the voice he hears a-callin': 'Joel,\nJoel, Joel!'\"\n\n\"I know--I see it all,\" murmured Santa Claus very softly.\n\n\"Oh, that was so long ago,\" sighed Joel; \"so very long ago! And I've\nhad no Chris'mas since--only once, when our little one--Marthy's an'\nmine--you remember him, Santa Claus?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Santa Claus, \"a toddling little boy with blue eyes--\"\n\n\"Like his mother,\" interrupted Joel; \"an' he _was_ like her, too--so\ngentle an' lovin', only we called him Joel, for that was my father's\nname and it kind o' run in the fam'ly. He wa'n't more'n three years\nold when you came with your Chris'mas presents for him, Santa Claus.\nWe had told him about you, and he used to go to the chimney every\nnight and make a little prayer about what he wanted you to bring him.\nAnd you brought 'em, too--a stick-horse, an' a picture-book, an' some\nblocks, an' a drum--they're on the shelf in the closet there, and his\nlittle Chris'mas stockin' with 'em--I've saved 'em all, an' I've taken\n'em down an' held 'em in my hands, oh, so many times!\"\n\n\"But when I came again,\" said Santa Claus--\n\n\"His little bed was empty, an' I was alone. It killed his\nmother--Marthy was so tender-hearted; she kind o' drooped an' pined\nafter that. So now they've been asleep side by side in the\nburyin'-ground these thirty years.\n\n\"That's why I'm so sad-like whenever Chris'mas comes,\" said Joel,\nafter a pause. \"The thinkin' of long ago makes me bitter almost. It's\nso different now from what it used to be.\"\n\n\"No, Joel, oh, no,\" said Santa Claus. \"'Tis the same world, and human\nnature is the same and always will be. But Christmas is for the little\nfolks, and you, who are old and grizzled now, must know it and love it\nonly through the gladness it brings the little ones.\"\n\n\"True,\" groaned Joel; \"but how may I know and feel this gladness when\nI have no little stocking hanging in my chimney corner--no child to\nplease me with his prattle? See, I am alone.\"\n\n\"No, you're not alone, Joel,\" said Santa Claus. \"There are children in\nthis great city who would love and bless you for your goodness if you\nbut touched their hearts. Make them happy, Joel; send by me this night\nsome gift to the little boy in the old house yonder--he is poor and\nsick; a simple toy will fill his Christmas with gladness.\"\n\n\"His little sister, too--take _her_ some presents,\" said Joel; \"make\nthem happy for me, Santa Claus--you are right--make them happy for\nme.\"\n\nHow sweetly Joel slept! When he awoke, the sunlight streamed in\nthrough the window and seemed to bid him a merry Christmas. How\ncontented and happy Joel felt! It must have been the talk with Santa\nClaus that did it all; he had never known a sweeter sense of peace. A\nlittle girl came out of the house over the way. She had a new doll in\nher arms, and she sang a merry little song and she laughed with joy as\nshe skipped along the street. Ay, and at the window sat the little\nsick boy, and the toy Santa Claus left him seemed to have brought him\nstrength and health, for his eyes sparkled and his cheeks glowed, and\nit was plain to see his heart was full of happiness.\n\nAnd, oh! how the chimes did ring out, and how joyfully they sang their\nChristmas carol that morning! They sang of Bethlehem and the manger\nand the Babe; they sang of love and charity, till all the Christmas\nair seemed full of angel voices.\n\n    Carol of the Christmas morn--\n      Carol of the Christ-child born--\n    Carol to the list'ning sky\n      Till it echoes back again\n      \"Glory be to God on high,\n      Peace on earth, good will tow'rd men!\"\n\nSo all this music--the carol of the chimes, the sound of children's\nvoices, the smile of the poor little boy over the way--all this sweet\nmusic crept into Joel's heart that Christmas morning; yes, and with\nthese sweet, holy influences came others so subtile and divine that in\nits silent communion with them, Joel's heart cried out amen and amen\nto the glory of the Christmas time.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE KINGS OF COLOGNE\n\n\n    From out Cologne there came three kings\n      To worship Jesus Christ, their King.\n    To Him they sought fine herbs they brought,\n      And many a beauteous golden thing;\n    They brought their gifts to Bethlehem town,\n    And in that manger set them down.\n\n    Then spake the first king, and he said:\n      \"O Child, most heavenly, bright, and fair!\n    I bring this crown to Bethlehem town\n      For Thee, and only Thee, to wear;\n    So give a heavenly crown to me\n    When I shall come at last to Thee!\"\n\n    The second, then. \"I bring Thee here\n      This royal robe, O Child!\" he cried;\n    \"Of silk 'tis spun, and such an one\n      There is not in the world beside;\n    So in the day of doom requite\n    Me with a heavenly robe of white!\"\n\n    The third king gave his gift, and quoth:\n      \"Spikenard and myrrh to Thee I bring,\n    And with these twain would I most fain\n      Anoint the body of my King;\n    So may their incense sometime rise\n    To plead for me in yonder skies!\"\n\n    Thus spake the three kings of Cologne,\n      That gave their gifts, and went their way;\n    And now kneel I in prayer hard by\n      The cradle of the Child to-day;\n    Nor crown, nor robe, nor spice I bring\n    As offering unto Christ, my King.\n\n    Yet have I brought a gift the Child\n      May not despise, however small;\n    For here I lay my heart to-day,\n      And it is full of love to all.\n    Take Thou the poor but loyal thing,\n    My only tribute, Christ, my King!\n\n\n\n\nTHE COMING OF THE PRINCE\n\nI\n\n\n\"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!\" said the wind, and it tore through\nthe streets of the city that Christmas eve, turning umbrellas inside\nout, driving the snow in fitful gusts before it, creaking the rusty\nsigns and shutters, and playing every kind of rude prank it could\nthink of.\n\n\"How cold your breath is to-night!\" said Barbara, with a shiver, as\nshe drew her tattered little shawl the closer around her benumbed\nbody.\n\n\"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!\" answered the wind; \"but why are you\nout in this storm? You should be at home by the warm fire.\"\n\n\"I have no home,\" said Barbara; and then she sighed bitterly, and\nsomething like a tiny pearl came in the corner of one of her sad blue\neyes.\n\nBut the wind did not hear her answer, for it had hurried up the street\nto throw a handful of snow in the face of an old man who was\nstruggling along with a huge basket of good things on each arm.\n\n\"Why are you not at the cathedral?\" asked a snowflake, as it alighted\non Barbara's shoulder. \"I heard grand music, and saw beautiful lights\nthere as I floated down from the sky a moment ago.\"\n\n\"What are they doing at the cathedral?\" inquired Barbara.\n\n\"Why, haven't you heard?\" exclaimed the snowflake. \"I supposed\neverybody knew that the prince was coming to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Surely enough; this is Christmas eve,\" said Barbara, \"and the prince\nwill come to-morrow.\"\n\nBarbara remembered that her mother had told her about the prince, how\nbeautiful and good and kind and gentle he was, and how he loved the\nlittle children; but her mother was dead now, and there was none to\ntell Barbara of the prince and his coming,--none but the little\nsnowflake.\n\n\"I should like to see the prince,\" said Barbara, \"for I have heard he\nwas very beautiful and good.\"\n\n\"That he is,\" said the snowflake. \"I have never seen him, but I heard\nthe pines and the firs singing about him as I floated over the forest\nto-night.\"\n\n\"Whirr-r-r! whirr-r-r!\" cried the wind, returning boisterously to\nwhere Barbara stood. \"I've been looking for you everywhere, little\nsnowflake! So come with me.\"\n\nAnd without any further ado, the wind seized upon the snowflake and\nhurried it along the street and led it a merry dance through the icy\nair of the winter night.\n\nBarbara trudged on through the snow and looked in at the bright things\nin the shop windows. The glitter of the lights and the sparkle of the\nvast array of beautiful Christmas toys quite dazzled her. A strange\nmingling of admiration, regret, and envy filled the poor little\ncreature's heart.\n\n\"Much as I may yearn to have them, it cannot be,\" she said to herself,\n\"yet I may feast my eyes upon them.\"\n\n\"Go away from here!\" said a harsh voice. \"How can the rich people see\nall my fine things if you stand before the window? Be off with you,\nyou miserable little beggar!\"\n\nIt was the shopkeeper, and he gave Barbara a savage box on the ear\nthat sent her reeling into the deeper snowdrifts of the gutter.\n\nPresently she came to a large house where there seemed to be much\nmirth and festivity. The shutters were thrown open, and through the\nwindows Barbara could see a beautiful Christmas-tree in the centre of\na spacious room--a beautiful Christmas-tree ablaze with red and\ngreen lights, and heavy with toys and stars and glass balls and other\nbeautiful things that children love. There was a merry throng around\nthe tree, and the children were smiling and gleeful, and all in that\nhouse seemed content and happy. Barbara heard them singing, and their\nsong was about the prince who was to come on the morrow.\n\n\"This must be the house where the prince will stop,\" thought Barbara.\n\"How I would like to see his face and hear his voice!--yet what would\nhe care for _me_, a 'miserable little beggar'?\"\n\nSo Barbara crept on through the storm, shivering and disconsolate, yet\nthinking of the prince.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" she asked of the wind as it overtook her.\n\n\"To the cathedral,\" laughed the wind. \"The great people are flocking\nthere, and I will have a merry time amongst them, ha, ha, ha!\"\n\nAnd with laughter the wind whirled away and chased the snow toward the\ncathedral.\n\n\"It is there, then, that the prince will come,\" thought Barbara. \"It\nis a beautiful place, and the people will pay him homage there.\nPerhaps I shall see him if I go there.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"This must be the house where the prince will stop,\"\nthought Barbara.]\n\nSo she went to the cathedral. Many folk were there in their richest\napparel, and the organ rolled out its grand music, and the people sang\nwondrous songs, and the priests made eloquent prayers; and the music,\nand the songs, and the prayers were all about the prince and his\nexpected coming. The throng that swept in and out of the great edifice\ntalked always of the prince, the prince, the prince, until Barbara\nreally loved him very much, for all the gentle words she heard the\npeople say of him.\n\n\"Please, can I go and sit inside?\" inquired Barbara of the sexton.\n\n\"No!\" said the sexton gruffly, for this was an important occasion with\nthe sexton, and he had no idea of wasting words on a beggar child.\n\n\"But I will be very good and quiet,\" pleaded Barbara. \"Please may I\nnot see the prince?\"\n\n\"I have said no, and I mean it,\" retorted the sexton. \"What have you\nfor the prince, or what cares the prince for you? Out with you, and\ndon't be blocking up the door-way!\" So the sexton gave Barbara an\nangry push, and the child fell half-way down the icy steps of the\ncathedral. She began to cry. Some great people were entering the\ncathedral at the time, and they laughed to see her falling.\n\n\"Have you seen the prince?\" inquired a snowflake, alighting on\nBarbara's cheek. It was the same little snowflake that had clung to\nher shawl an hour ago, when the wind came galloping along on his\nboisterous search.\n\n\"Ah, no!\" sighed Barbara in tears; \"but what cares the prince for\n_me_?\"\n\n\"Do not speak so bitterly,\" said the little snowflake. \"Go to the\nforest and you shall see him, for the prince always comes through the\nforest to the city.\"\n\nDespite the cold, and her bruises, and her tears, Barbara smiled. In\nthe forest she could behold the prince coming on his way; and he would\nnot see her, for she would hide among the trees and vines.\n\n\"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!\" It was the mischievous, romping wind once\nmore; and it fluttered Barbara's tattered shawl, and set her hair to\nstreaming in every direction, and swept the snowflake from her cheek\nand sent it spinning through the air.\n\nBarbara trudged toward the forest. When she came to the city gate the\nwatchman stopped her, and held his big lantern in her face, and asked\nher who she was and where she was going.\n\n\"I am Barbara, and I am going into the forest,\" said she boldly.\n\n\"Into the forest?\" cried the watchman, \"and in this storm? No, child;\nyou will perish!\"\n\n\"But I am going to see the prince,\" said Barbara. \"They will not let\nme watch for him in the church, nor in any of their pleasant homes, so\nI am going into the forest.\"\n\nThe watchman smiled sadly. He was a kindly man; he thought of his own\nlittle girl at home.\n\n\"No, you must not go to the forest,\" said he, \"for you would perish\nwith the cold.\"\n\nBut Barbara would not stay. She avoided the watchman's grasp and ran\nas fast as ever she could through the city gate.\n\n\"Come back, come back!\" cried the watchman; \"you will perish in the\nforest!\"\n\nBut Barbara would not heed his cry. The falling snow did not stay her,\nnor did the cutting blast. She thought only of the prince, and she ran\nstraightway to the forest.\n\n\nII\n\n\"What do you see up there, O pine-tree?\" asked a little vine in the\nforest. \"You lift your head among the clouds to-night, and you tremble\nstrangely as if you saw wondrous sights.\"\n\n\"I see only the distant hill-tops and the dark clouds,\" answered the\npine-tree. \"And the wind sings of the snow-king to-night; to all my\nquestionings he says, 'Snow, snow, snow,' till I am wearied with his\nrefrain.\"\n\n\"But the prince will surely come to-morrow?\" inquired the tiny\nsnowdrop that nestled close to the vine.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said the vine. \"I heard the country folks talking about it\nas they went through the forest to-day, and they said that the prince\nwould surely come on the morrow.\"\n\n\"What are you little folks down there talking about?\" asked the\npine-tree.\n\n\"We are talking about the prince,\" said the vine.\n\n\"Yes, he is to come on the morrow,\" said the pine-tree, \"but not until\nthe day dawns, and it is still all dark in the east.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the fir-tree, \"the east is black, and only the wind and\nthe snow issue from it.\"\n\n\"Keep your head out of my way!\" cried the pine-tree to the fir; \"with\nyour constant bobbing around I can hardly see at all.\"\n\n\"Take _that_ for your bad manners,\" retorted the fir, slapping the\npine-tree savagely with one of her longest branches.\n\nThe pine-tree would put up with no such treatment, so he hurled his\nlargest cone at the fir; and for a moment or two it looked as if there\nwere going to be a serious commotion in the forest.\n\n\"Hush!\" cried the vine in a startled tone; \"there is some one coming\nthrough the forest.\"\n\nThe pine-tree and the fir stopped quarrelling, and the snowdrop\nnestled closer to the vine, while the vine hugged the pine-tree very\ntightly. All were greatly alarmed.\n\n\"Nonsense!\" said the pine-tree, in a tone of assumed bravery. \"No one\nwould venture into the forest at such an hour.\"\n\n\"Indeed! and why not?\" cried a child's voice. \"Will you not let me\nwatch with you for the coming of the prince?\"\n\n\"Will you not chop me down?\" inquired the pine-tree gruffly.\n\n\"Will you not tear me from my tree?\" asked the vine.\n\n\"Will you not pluck my blossoms?\" plaintively piped the snowdrop.\n\n\"No, of course not,\" said Barbara; \"I have come only to watch with you\nfor the prince.\"\n\nThen Barbara told them who she was, and how cruelly she had been\ntreated in the city, and how she longed to see the prince, who was to\ncome on the morrow. And as she talked, the forest and all therein felt\na great compassion for her.\n\n\"Lie at my feet,\" said the pine-tree, \"and I will protect you.\"\n\n\"Nestle close to me, and I will chafe your temples and body and limbs\ntill they are warm,\" said the vine.\n\n\"Let me rest upon your cheek, and I will sing you my little songs,\"\nsaid the snowdrop.\n\nAnd Barbara felt very grateful for all these homely kindnesses. She\nrested in the velvety snow at the foot of the pine-tree, and the vine\nchafed her body and limbs, and the little flower sang sweet songs to\nher.\n\n\"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!\" There was that noisy wind again, but this time\nit was gentler than it had been in the city.\n\n\"Here you are, my little Barbara,\" said the wind, in kindly tones. \"I\nhave brought you the little snowflake. I am glad you came away from\nthe city, for the people are proud and haughty there; oh, but I will\nhave my fun with them!\"\n\nThen, having dropped the little snowflake on Barbara's cheek, the wind\nwhisked off to the city again. And we can imagine that it played rare\npranks with the proud, haughty folk on its return; for the wind, as\nyou know, is no respecter of persons.\n\n\"Dear Barbara,\" said the snowflake, \"I will watch with thee for the\ncoming of the prince.\"\n\nAnd Barbara was glad, for she loved the little snowflake, that was so\npure and innocent and gentle.\n\n\"Tell us, O pine-tree,\" cried the vine, \"what do you see in the east?\nHas the prince yet entered the forest?\"\n\n\"The east is full of black clouds,\" said the pine-tree, \"and the winds\nthat hurry to the hill-tops sing of the snow.\"\n\n\"But the city is full of brightness,\" said the fir. \"I can see the\nlights in the cathedral, and I can hear wondrous music about the\nprince and his coming.\"\n\n\"Yes, they are singing of the prince in the cathedral,\" said Barbara\nsadly.\n\n\"But we shall see him first,\" whispered the vine reassuringly.\n\n\"Yes, the prince will come through the forest,\" said the little\nsnowdrop gleefully.\n\n\"Fear not, dear Barbara, we shall behold the prince in all his glory,\"\ncried the snowflake.\n\nThen all at once there was a strange hub-bub in the forest; for it\nwas midnight, and the spirits came from their hiding-places to prowl\nabout and to disport themselves. Barbara beheld them all in great\nwonder and trepidation, for she had never before seen the spirits of\nthe forest, although she had often heard of them. It was a marvellous\nsight.\n\n[Illustration: So Barbara fell asleep.]\n\n\"Fear nothing,\" whispered the vine to Barbara,--\"fear nothing, for\nthey dare not touch you.\"\n\nThe antics of the wood-spirits continued but an hour; for then a cock\ncrowed, and immediately thereat, with a wondrous scurrying, the elves\nand the gnomes and the other grotesque spirits sought their\nabiding-places in the caves and in the hollow trunks and under the\nloose bark of the trees. And then it was very quiet once more in the\nforest.\n\n\"It is very cold,\" said Barbara. \"My hands and feet are like ice.\"\n\nThen the pine-tree and the fir shook down the snow from their broad\nboughs, and the snow fell upon Barbara and covered her like a white\nmantle.\n\n\"You will be warm now,\" said the vine, kissing Barbara's forehead. And\nBarbara smiled.\n\nThen the snowdrop sang a lullaby about the moss that loved the violet.\nAnd Barbara said, \"I am going to sleep; will you wake me when the\nprince comes through the forest?\"\n\nAnd they said they would. So Barbara fell asleep.\n\n\nIII\n\n\"The bells in the city are ringing merrily,\" said the fir, \"and the\nmusic in the cathedral is louder and more beautiful than before. Can\nit be that the prince has already come into the city?\"\n\n\"No,\" cried the pine-tree, \"look to the east and see the Christmas day\na-dawning! The prince is coming, and his pathway is through the\nforest!\"\n\nThe storm had ceased. Snow lay upon all the earth. The hills, the\nforest, the city, and the meadows were white with the robe the\nstorm-king had thrown over them. Content with his wondrous work, the\nstorm-king himself had fled to his far Northern home before the dawn\nof the Christmas day. Everything was bright and sparkling and\nbeautiful. And most beautiful was the great hymn of praise the forest\nsang that Christmas morning,--the pine-trees and the firs and the\nvines and the snow-flowers that sang of the prince and of his promised\ncoming.\n\n\"Wake up, little one,\" cried the vine, \"for the prince is coming!\"\n\nBut Barbara slept; she did not hear the vine's soft calling nor the\nlofty music of the forest.\n\nA little snow-bird flew down from the fir-tree's bough and perched\nupon the vine, and carolled in Barbara's ear of the Christmas morning\nand of the coming of the prince. But Barbara slept; she did not hear\nthe carol of the bird.\n\n\"Alas!\" sighed the vine, \"Barbara will not awaken, and the prince is\ncoming.\"\n\nThen the vine and the snowdrop wept, and the pine-tree and the fir\nwere very sad.\n\nThe prince came through the forest clad in royal raiment and wearing a\ngolden crown. Angels came with him, and the forest sang a great hymn\nunto the prince, such a hymn as had never before been heard on earth.\nThe prince came to the sleeping child and smiled upon her and called\nher by name.\n\n\"Barbara, my little one,\" said the prince, \"awaken, and come with me.\"\n\nThen Barbara opened her eyes and beheld the prince. And it seemed as\nif a new life had come to her, for there was warmth in her body and a\nflush upon her cheeks and a light in her eyes that were divine. And\nshe was clothed no longer in rags, but in white flowing raiment; and\nupon the soft brown hair there was a crown like those which angels\nwear. And as Barbara arose and went to the prince, the little\nsnowflake fell from her cheek upon her bosom, and forthwith became a\npearl more precious than all other jewels upon earth.\n\nAnd the prince took Barbara in his arms and blessed her, and turning\nround about, returned with the little child unto his home, while the\nforest and the sky and the angels sang a wondrous song.\n\nThe city waited for the prince, but he did not come. None knew of the\nglory of the forest that Christmas morning, nor of the new life that\ncame to little Barbara.\n\n_Come thou, dear Prince, oh, come to us this holy Christmas time! Come\nto the busy marts of earth, the quiet homes, the noisy streets, the\nhumble lanes; come to us all, and with thy love touch every human\nheart, that we may know that love, and in its blessed peace bear\ncharity to all mankind!_\n\n\n\n\nCHRYSTMASSE OF OLDE\n\n\n    God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,\n      Wherever you may be,--\n    God rest you all in fielde or hall,\n      Or on ye stormy sea;\n    For on this morn oure Chryst is born\n      That saveth you and me.\n\n    Last night ye shepherds in ye east\n      Saw many a wondrous thing;\n    Ye sky last night flamed passing bright\n      Whiles that ye stars did sing,\n    And angels came to bless ye name\n      Of Jesus Chryst, oure Kyng.\n\n    God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,\n      Faring where'er you may;\n    In noblesse court do thou no sport,\n      In tournament no playe,\n    In paynim lands hold thou thy hands\n      From bloudy works this daye.\n\n    But thinking on ye gentil Lord\n      That died upon ye tree,\n    Let troublings cease and deeds of peace\n      Abound in Chrystantie;\n    For on this morn ye Chryst is born\n      That saveth you and me.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MOUSE AND THE MOONBEAM\n\n\nWhilst you were sleeping, little Dear-my-Soul, strange things\nhappened; but that I saw and heard them, I should never have believed\nthem. The clock stood, of course, in the corner, a moonbeam floated\nidly on the floor, and a little mauve mouse came from the hole in the\nchimney corner and frisked and scampered in the light of the moonbeam\nupon the floor. The little mauve mouse was particularly merry;\nsometimes she danced upon two legs and sometimes upon four legs, but\nalways very daintily and always very merrily.\n\n\"Ah, me!\" sighed the old clock, \"how different mice are nowadays from\nthe mice we used to have in the good old times! Now there was your\ngrandma, Mistress Velvetpaw, and there was your grandpa, Master\nSniffwhisker,--how grave and dignified they were! Many a night have I\nseen them dancing upon the carpet below me, but always the stately\nminuet and never that crazy frisking which you are executing now, to\nmy surprise--yes, and to my horror, too.\"\n\n\"But why shouldn't I be merry?\" asked the little mauve mouse.\n\"To-morrow is Christmas, and this is Christmas eve.\"\n\n\"So it is,\" said the old clock. \"I had really forgotten all about it.\nBut tell me, what is Christmas to you, little Miss Mauve Mouse?\"\n\n\"A great deal to me!\" cried the little mauve mouse. \"I have been very\ngood a very long time: I have not used any bad words, nor have I\ngnawed any holes, nor have I stolen any canary seed, nor have I\nworried my mother by running behind the flour-barrel where that horrid\ntrap is set. In fact, I have been so good that I'm very sure Santa\nClaus will bring me something very pretty.\"\n\nThis seemed to amuse the old clock mightily; in fact, the old clock\nfell to laughing so heartily that in an unguarded moment she struck\ntwelve instead of ten, which was exceedingly careless and therefore to\nbe reprehended.\n\n\"Why, you silly little mauve mouse,\" said the old clock, \"you don't\nbelieve in Santa Claus, do you?\"\n\n\"Of course I do,\" answered the little mauve mouse. \"Believe in Santa\nClaus? Why shouldn't I? Didn't Santa Claus bring me a beautiful\nbutter-cracker last Christmas, and a lovely gingersnap, and a\ndelicious rind of cheese, and--and--lots of things? I should be very\nungrateful if I did not believe in Santa Claus, and I certainly shall\nnot disbelieve in him at the very moment when I am expecting him to\narrive with a bundle of goodies for me.\n\n[Illustration: \"But why shouldn't I be merry?\" asked the little mauve\nmouse. \"To-morrow is Christmas, and this is Christmas eve.\"]\n\n\"I once had a little sister,\" continued the little mauve mouse, \"who\ndid not believe in Santa Claus, and the very thought of the fate that\nbefell her makes my blood run cold and my whiskers stand on end. She\ndied before I was born, but my mother has told me all about her.\nPerhaps you never saw her; her name was Squeaknibble, and she was in\nstature one of those long, low, rangy mice that are seldom found in\nwell-stocked pantries. Mother says that Squeaknibble took after our\nancestors who came from New England, where the malignant ingenuity of\nthe people and the ferocity of the cats rendered life precarious\nindeed. Squeaknibble seemed to inherit many ancestral traits, the most\nconspicuous of which was a disposition to sneer at some of the most\nrespected dogmas in mousedom. From her very infancy she doubted, for\nexample, the widely accepted theory that the moon was composed of\ngreen cheese; and this heresy was the first intimation her parents had\nof the sceptical turn of her mind. Of course, her parents were vastly\nannoyed, for their maturer natures saw that this youthful scepticism\nportended serious, if not fatal, consequences. Yet all in vain did the\nsagacious couple reason and plead with their headstrong and heretical\nchild.\n\n\"For a long time Squeaknibble would not believe that there was any\nsuch archfiend as a cat; but she came to be convinced to the contrary\none memorable night, on which occasion she lost two inches of her\nbeautiful tail, and received so terrible a fright that for fully an\nhour afterward her little heart beat so violently as to lift her off\nher feet and bump her head against the top of our domestic hole. The\ncat that deprived my sister of so large a percentage of her vertebral\ncolophon was the same brindled ogress that nowadays steals ever and\nanon into this room, crouches treacherously behind the sofa, and\nfeigns to be asleep, hoping, forsooth, that some of us, heedless of\nher hated presence, will venture within reach of her diabolical claws.\nSo enraged was this ferocious monster at the escape of my sister that\nshe ground her fangs viciously together, and vowed to take no pleasure\nin life until she held in her devouring jaws the innocent little mouse\nwhich belonged to the mangled bit of tail she even then clutched in\nher remorseless claws.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the old clock, \"now that you recall the incident, I\nrecollect it well. I was here then, in this very corner, and I\nremember that I laughed at the cat and chided her for her awkwardness.\nMy reproaches irritated her; she told me that a clock's duty was to\nrun itself down, _not_ to be depreciating the merits of others! Yes, I\nrecall the time; that cat's tongue is fully as sharp as her claws.\"\n\n\"Be that as it may,\" said the little mauve mouse, \"it is a matter of\nhistory, and therefore beyond dispute, that from that very moment the\ncat pined for Squeaknibble's life; it seemed as if that one little\ntwo-inch taste of Squeaknibble's tail had filled the cat with a\nconsuming passion, or appetite, for the rest of Squeaknibble. So the\ncat waited and watched and hunted and schemed and devised and did\neverything possible for a cat--a cruel cat--to do in order to gain her\nmurderous ends. One night--one fatal Christmas eve--our mother had\nundressed the children for bed, and was urging upon them to go to\nsleep earlier than usual, since she fully expected that Santa Claus\nwould bring each of them something very palatable and nice before\nmorning. Thereupon the little dears whisked their cunning tails,\npricked up their beautiful ears, and began telling one another what\nthey hoped Santa Claus would bring. One asked for a slice of\nRoquefort, another for Neufchatel, another for Sap Sago, and a fourth\nfor Edam; one expressed a preference for de Brie, while another hoped\nto get Parmesan; one clamored for imperial blue Stilton, and another\ncraved the fragrant boon of Caprera. There were fourteen little ones\nthen, and consequently there were diverse opinions as to the kind of\ngift which Santa Claus should best bring; still, there was, as you can\nreadily understand, an enthusiastic unanimity upon this point, namely,\nthat the gift should be cheese of some brand or other.\n\n\"'My dears,' said our mother, 'what matters it whether the boon which\nSanta Claus brings be royal English cheddar or fromage de Bricquebec,\nVermont sage, or Herkimer County skim-milk? We should be content with\nwhatsoever Santa Claus bestows, so long as it be cheese, disjoined\nfrom all traps whatsoever, unmixed with Paris green, and free from\nglass, strychnine, and other harmful ingredients. As for myself, I\nshall be satisfied with a cut of nice, fresh Western reserve; for\ntruly I recognize in no other viand or edible half the fragrance or\nhalf the gustfulness to be met with in one of these pale but aromatic\ndomestic products. So run away to your dreams now, that Santa Claus\nmay find you sleeping.'\n\n\"The children obeyed,--all but Squeaknibble. 'Let the others think\nwhat they please,' said she, 'but _I_ don't believe in Santa Claus.\nI'm not going to bed, either. I'm going to creep out of this dark hole\nand have a quiet romp, all by myself, in the moonlight.' Oh, what a\nvain, foolish, wicked little mouse was Squeaknibble! But I will not\nreproach the dead; her punishment came all too swiftly. Now listen:\nwho do you suppose overheard her talking so disrespectfully of Santa\nClaus?\"\n\n\"Why, Santa Claus himself,\" said the old clock.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" answered the little mauve mouse. \"It was that wicked,\nmurderous cat! Just as Satan lurks and lies in wait for bad children,\nso does the cruel cat lurk and lie in wait for naughty little mice.\nAnd you can depend upon it that, when that awful cat heard\nSqueaknibble speak so disrespectfully of Santa Claus, her wicked eyes\nglowed with joy, her sharp teeth watered, and her bristling fur\nemitted electric sparks as big as marrowfat peas. Then what did that\nblood-thirsty monster do but scuttle as fast as she could into\nDear-my-Soul's room, leap up into Dear-my-Soul's crib, and walk off\nwith the pretty little white muff which Dear-my-Soul used to wear when\nshe went for a visit to the little girl in the next block! What upon\nearth did the horrid old cat want with Dear-my-Soul's pretty little\nwhite muff? Ah, the duplicity, the diabolical ingenuity of that cat!\nListen.\n\n\"In the first place,\" resumed the little mauve mouse, after a pause\nthat testified eloquently to the depth of her emotion,--\"in the first\nplace, that wretched cat dressed herself up in that pretty little\nwhite muff, by which you are to understand that she crawled through\nthe muff just so far as to leave her four cruel legs at liberty.\"\n\n\"Yes, I understand,\" said the old clock.\n\n\"Then she put on the boy doll's fur cap,\" said the little mauve mouse,\n\"and when she was arrayed in the boy doll's fur cap and Dear-my-Soul's\npretty little white muff, of course she didn't look like a cruel cat\nat all. But whom did she look like?\"\n\n\"Like the boy doll,\" suggested the old clock.\n\n\"No, no!\" cried the little mauve mouse.\n\n\"Like Dear-my-Soul?\" asked the old clock.\n\n\"How stupid you are!\" exclaimed the little mauve mouse. \"Why, she\nlooked like Santa Claus, of course!\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; I see,\" said the old clock. \"Now I begin to be interested;\ngo on.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" sighed the little mauve mouse, \"not much remains to be told;\nbut there is more of my story left than there was of Squeaknibble when\nthat horrid cat crawled out of that miserable disguise. You are to\nunderstand that, contrary to her sagacious mother's injunction, and in\nnotorious derision of the mooted coming of Santa Claus, Squeaknibble\nissued from the friendly hole in the chimney corner, and gambolled\nabout over this very carpet, and, I dare say, in this very moonlight.\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" said the moonbeam faintly. \"I am so very old, and I\nhave seen so many things--I do not know.\"\n\n\"Right merrily was Squeaknibble gambolling,\" continued the little\nmauve mouse, \"and she had just turned a double back somersault without\nthe use of what remained of her tail, when, all of a sudden, she\nbeheld, looming up like a monster ghost, a figure all in white fur!\nOh, how frightened she was, and how her little heart did beat! 'Purr,\npurr-r-r,' said the ghost in white fur. 'Oh, please don't hurt me!'\npleaded Squeaknibble. 'No; I'll not hurt you,' said the ghost in\nwhite fur; 'I'm Santa Claus, and I've brought you a beautiful piece of\nsavory old cheese, you dear little mousie, you.' Poor Squeaknibble was\ndeceived; a sceptic all her life, she was at last befooled by the most\npalpable and most fatal of frauds. 'How good of you!' said\nSqueaknibble. 'I didn't believe there was a Santa Claus, and--' but\nbefore she could say more she was seized by two sharp, cruel claws\nthat conveyed her crushed body to the murderous mouth of mousedom's\nmost malignant foe. I can dwell no longer upon this harrowing scene.\nSuffice it to say that ere the morrow's sun rose like a big yellow\nHerkimer County cheese upon the spot where that tragedy had been\nenacted, poor Squeaknibble passed to that bourn whence two inches of\nher beautiful tail had preceded her by the space of three weeks to a\nday. As for Santa Claus, when he came that Christmas eve, bringing\nmorceaux de Brie and of Stilton for the other little mice, he heard\nwith sorrow of Squeaknibble's fate; and ere he departed he said that\nin all his experience he had never known of a mouse or of a child that\nhad prospered after once saying that he didn't believe in Santa\nClaus.\"\n\n\"Well, that is a remarkable story,\" said the old clock. \"But if you\nbelieve in Santa Claus, why aren't you in bed?\"\n\n\"That's where I shall be presently,\" answered the little mauve mouse,\n\"but I must have my scamper, you know. It is very pleasant, I assure\nyou, to frolic in the light of the moon; only I cannot understand why\nyou are always so cold and so solemn and so still, you pale, pretty\nlittle moonbeam.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I do not know that I am so,\" said the moonbeam. \"But I am\nvery old, and I have travelled many, many leagues, and I have seen\nwondrous things. Sometimes I toss upon the ocean, sometimes I fall\nupon a slumbering flower, sometimes I rest upon a dead child's face. I\nsee the fairies at their play, and I hear mothers singing lullabies.\nLast night I swept across the frozen bosom of a river. A woman's face\nlooked up at me; it was the picture of eternal rest. 'She is\nsleeping,' said the frozen river. 'I rock her to and fro, and sing to\nher. Pass gently by, O moonbeam; pass gently by, lest you awaken\nher.'\"\n\n\"How strangely you talk,\" said the old clock. \"Now, I'll warrant me\nthat, if you wanted to, you could tell many a pretty and wonderful\nstory. You must know many a Christmas tale; pray, tell us one to wear\naway this night of Christmas watching.\"\n\n\"I know but one,\" said the moonbeam. \"I have told it over and over\nagain, in every land and in every home; yet I do not weary of it. It\nis very simple. Should you like to hear it?\"\n\n\"Indeed we should,\" said the old clock; \"but before you begin, let me\nstrike twelve; for I shouldn't want to interrupt you.\"\n\nWhen the old clock had performed this duty with somewhat more than\nusual alacrity, the moonbeam began its story:\n\n\"Upon a time--so long ago that I can't tell how long ago it was--I\nfell upon a hill-side. It was in a far distant country; this I know,\nbecause, although it was the Christmas time, it was not in that\ncountry as it is wont to be in countries to the north. Hither the\nsnow-king never came; flowers bloomed all the year, and at all times\nthe lambs found pleasant pasturage on the hill-sides. The night wind\nwas balmy, and there was a fragrance of cedar in its breath. There\nwere violets on the hill-side, and I fell amongst them and lay there.\nI kissed them, and they awakened. 'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?'\nthey said, and they nestled in the grass which the lambs had left\nuncropped.\n\n\"A shepherd lay upon a broad stone on the hill-side; above him spread\nan olive-tree, old, ragged, and gloomy; but now it swayed its rusty\nbranches majestically in the shifting air of night. The shepherd's\nname was Benoni. Wearied with long watching, he had fallen asleep; his\ncrook had slipped from his hand. Upon the hill-side, too, slept the\nshepherd's flock. I had counted them again and again; I had stolen\nacross their gentle faces and brought them pleasant dreams of green\npastures and of cool water-brooks. I had kissed old Benoni, too, as he\nlay slumbering there; and in his dreams he seemed to see Israel's King\ncome upon earth, and in his dreams he murmured the promised Messiah's\nname.\n\n\"'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?' quoth the violets. 'You have come\nin good time. Nestle here with us, and see wonderful things come to\npass.'\n\n\"'What are these wonderful things of which you speak?' I asked.\n\n\"'We heard the old olive-tree telling of them to-night,' said the\nviolets. 'Do not go to sleep, little violets,' said the old\nolive-tree, 'for this is Christmas night, and the Master shall walk\nupon the hill-side in the glory of the midnight hour.' So we waited\nand watched; one by one the lambs fell asleep; one by one the stars\npeeped out; the shepherd nodded and crooned, and crooned and nodded,\nand at last he, too, went fast asleep, and his crook slipped from his\nkeeping. Then we called to the old olive-tree yonder, asking how soon\nthe midnight hour would come; but all the old olive-tree answered was\n'Presently, presently,' and finally we, too, fell asleep, wearied by\nour long watching, and lulled by the rocking and swaying of the old\nolive-tree in the breezes of the night.\n\n\"'But who is this Master?' I asked.\n\n\"'A child, a little child,' they answered. 'He is called the little\nMaster by the others. He comes here often, and plays among the flowers\nof the hill-side. Sometimes the lambs, gambolling too carelessly, have\ncrushed and bruised us so that we lie bleeding and are like to die;\nbut the little Master heals our wounds and refreshes us once again.'\n\n\"I marvelled much to hear these things. 'The midnight hour is at\nhand,' said I, 'and I will abide with you to see this little Master of\nwhom you speak.' So we nestled among the verdure of the hill-side, and\nsang songs one to another.\n\n\"'Come away!' called the night wind; 'I know a beauteous sea not far\nhence, upon whose bosom you shall float, float, float away out into\nthe mists and clouds, if you will come with me.'\n\n\"But I hid under the violets and amid the tall grass, that the night\nwind might not woo me with its pleading. 'Ho, there, old olive-tree!'\ncried the violets; 'do you see the little Master coming? Is not the\nmidnight hour at hand?'\n\n\"'I can see the town yonder,' said the old olive-tree. 'A star beams\nbright over Bethlehem, the iron gates swing open, and the little\nMaster comes.'\n\n\"Two children came to the hill-side. The one, older than his comrade,\nwas Dimas, the son of Benoni. He was rugged and sinewy, and over his\nbrown shoulders was flung a goatskin; a leathern cap did not confine\nhis long, dark curly hair. The other child was he whom they called the\nlittle Master; about his slender form clung raiment white as snow, and\naround his face of heavenly innocence fell curls of golden yellow. So\nbeautiful a child I had not seen before, nor have I ever since seen\nsuch as he. And as they came together to the hill-side, there seemed\nto glow about the little Master's head a soft white light, as if the\nmoon had sent its tenderest, fairest beams to kiss those golden curls.\n\n\"'What sound was that?' cried Dimas, for he was exceeding fearful.\n\n\"'Have no fear, Dimas,' said the little Master. 'Give me thy hand, and\nI will lead thee.'\n\n\"Presently they came to the rock whereon Benoni, the shepherd, lay;\nand they stood under the old olive-tree, and the old olive-tree swayed\nno longer in the night wind, but bent its branches reverently in the\npresence of the little Master. It seemed as if the wind, too, stayed\nin its shifting course just then; for suddenly there was a solemn\nhush, and you could hear no noise, except that in his dreams Benoni\nspoke the Messiah's name.\n\n[Illustration: \"'What sound was that?' cried Dimas, for he was\nexceeding fearful.\"]\n\n\"'Thy father sleeps,' said the little Master, 'and it is well that it\nis so; for that I love thee Dimas, and that thou shalt walk with me in\nmy Father's kingdom, I would show thee the glories of my birthright.'\n\n\"Then all at once sweet music filled the air, and light, greater than\nthe light of day, illumined the sky and fell upon all that hill-side.\nThe heavens opened, and angels, singing joyous songs, walked to the\nearth. More wondrous still, the stars, falling from their places in\nthe sky, clustered upon the old olive-tree, and swung hither and\nthither like colored lanterns. The flowers of the hill-side all\nawakened, and they, too, danced and sang. The angels, coming hither,\nhung gold and silver and jewels and precious stones upon the old\nolive, where swung the stars; so that the glory of that sight, though\nI might live forever, I shall never see again. When Dimas heard and\nsaw these things he fell upon his knees, and catching the hem of the\nlittle Master's garment, he kissed it.\n\n\"'Greater joy than this shall be thine, Dimas,' said the little\nMaster; 'but first must all things be fulfilled.'\n\n\"All through that Christmas night did the angels come and go with\ntheir sweet anthems; all through that Christmas night did the stars\ndance and sing; and when it came my time to steal away, the hill-side\nwas still beautiful with the glory and the music of heaven.\"\n\n\"Well, is that all?\" asked the old clock.\n\n\"No,\" said the moonbeam; \"but I am nearly done. The years went on.\nSometimes I tossed upon the ocean's bosom, sometimes I scampered o'er\na battle-field, sometimes I lay upon a dead child's face. I heard the\nvoices of Darkness and mothers' lullabies and sick men's prayers--and\nso the years went on.\n\n\"I fell one night upon a hard and furrowed face. It was of ghostly\npallor. A thief was dying on the cross, and this was his wretched\nface. About the cross stood men with staves and swords and spears, but\nnone paid heed unto the thief. Somewhat beyond this cross another was\nlifted up, and upon it was stretched a human body my light fell not\nupon. But I heard a voice that somewhere I had heard before,--though\nwhere I did not know,--and this voice blessed those that railed and\njeered and shamefully entreated. And suddenly the voice called\n'Dimas, Dimas!' and the thief upon whose hardened face I rested made\nanswer.\n\n\"Then I saw that it was Dimas; yet to this wicked criminal there\nremained but little of the shepherd child whom I had seen in all his\ninnocence upon the hill-side. Long years of sinful life had seared\ntheir marks into his face; yet now, at the sound of that familiar\nvoice, somewhat of the old-time boyish look came back, and in the\nyearning of the anguished eyes I seemed to see the shepherd's son\nagain.\n\n\"'The Master!' cried Dimas, and he stretched forth his neck that he\nmight see him that spake.\n\n\"'O Dimas, how art thou changed!' cried the Master, yet there was in\nhis voice no tone of rebuke save that which cometh of love.\n\n\"Then Dimas wept, and in that hour he forgot his pain. And the\nMaster's consoling voice and the Master's presence there wrought in\nthe dying criminal such a new spirit, that when at last his head fell\nupon his bosom, and the men about the cross said that he was dead, it\nseemed as if I shined not upon a felon's face, but upon the face of\nthe gentle shepherd lad, the son of Benoni.\n\n\"And shining on that dead and peaceful face, I bethought me of the\nlittle Master's words that he had spoken under the old olive-tree upon\nthe hill-side: 'Your eyes behold the promised glory now, O Dimas,' I\nwhispered, 'for with the Master you walk in Paradise.'\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAh, little Dear-my-Soul, you know--you know whereof the moonbeam\nspake. The shepherd's bones are dust, the flocks are scattered, the\nold olive-tree is gone, the flowers of the hill-side are withered, and\nnone knoweth where the grave of Dimas is made. But last night, again,\nthere shined a star over Bethlehem, and the angels descended from the\nsky to earth, and the stars sang together in glory. And the\nbells,--hear them, little Dear-my-Soul, how sweetly they are\nringing,--the bells bear us the good tidings of great joy this\nChristmas morning, that our Christ is born, and that with him he\nbringeth peace on earth and good-will toward men.\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS MORNING\n\n\n    The angel host that sped last night,\n      Bearing the wondrous news afar,\n    Came in their ever-glorious flight\n      Unto a slumbering little star.\n\n    \"Awake and sing, O star!\" they cried.\n      \"Awake and glorify the morn!\n    Herald the tidings far and wide--\n      He that shall lead His flock is born!\"\n\n    The little star awoke and sung\n      As only stars in rapture may,\n    And presently where church bells hung\n      The joyous tidings found their way.\n\n[Illustration:\n    Share thou this holy time with me,\n    The universal hymn of love.\n]\n\n    \"Awake, O bells! 't is Christmas morn--\n      Awake and let thy music tell\n    To all mankind that now is born\n      What Shepherd loves His lambkins well!\"\n\n    Then rang the bells as fled the night\n      O'er dreaming land and drowsing deep,\n    And coming with the morning light,\n      They called, my child, to you asleep.\n\n    Sweetly and tenderly they spoke,\n      And lingering round your little bed,\n    Their music pleaded till you woke,\n      And this is what their music said:\n\n    \"Awake and sing! 'tis Christmas morn,\n      Whereon all earth salutes her King!\n    In Bethlehem is the Shepherd born.\n      Awake, O little lamb, and sing!\"\n\n    So, dear my child, kneel at my feet,\n      And with those voices from above\n    Share thou this holy time with me,\n      The universal hymn of love.\n\nDecember 25, 1890.\n\n\n\n\nMISTRESS MERCILESS\n\n\nThis is to tell of our little Mistress Merciless, who for a season\nabided with us, but is now and forever gone from us unto the far-off\nland of Ever-Plaisance. The tale is soon told; for it were not seemly\nto speak all the things that are in one's heart when one hath to say\nof a much-beloved child, whose life here hath been shortened so that,\nin God's wisdom and kindness, her life shall be longer in that garden\nthat bloometh far away.\n\nYou shall know that all did call her Mistress Merciless; but her\nmercilessness was of a sweet, persuasive kind: for with the beauty of\nher face and the music of her voice and the exceeding sweetness of her\nvirtues was she wont to slay all hearts; and this she did unwittingly,\nfor she was a little child. And so it was in love that we did call her\nMistress Merciless, just as it was in love that she did lord it over\nall our hearts.\n\nUpon a time walked she in a full fair garden, and there went with her\nan handmaiden that we did call in merry wise the Queen of Sheba; for\nthis handmaiden was in sooth no queen at all, but a sorry and\nill-favored wench; but she was assotted upon our little Mistress\nMerciless and served her diligently, and for that good reason was\nvastly beholden of us all. Yet, in a jest, we called her the Queen of\nSheba; and I make a venture that she looked exceeding fair in the eyes\nof our little Mistress Merciless: for the eyes of children look not\nupon the faces but into the hearts and souls of others. Whilst these\ntwo walked in the full fair garden at that time they came presently\nunto an arbor wherein there was a rustic seat, which was called the\nSiege of Restfulness; and hereupon sate a little sick boy that, from\nhis birth, had been lame, so that he could not play and make merry\nwith other children, but was wont to come every day into this full\nfair garden and content himself with the companionship of the flowers.\nAnd, though he was a little lame boy, he never trod upon those\nflowers; and even had he done so, methinks the pressure of those\ncrippled feet had been a caress, for the little lame boy was filled\nwith the spirit of love and tenderness. As the tiniest, whitest,\nshrinking flower exhaleth the most precious perfume, so in and from\nthis little lame boy's life there came a grace that was hallowing in\nits beauty.\n\nSince they never before had seen him, they asked him his name; and he\nanswered them that of those at home he was called Master Sweetheart, a\nname he could not understand: for surely, being a cripple, he must be\na very sorry sweetheart; yet, that he was a sweetheart unto his mother\nat least he had no doubt, for she did love to hold him in her lap and\ncall him by that name; and many times when she did so he saw that\ntears were in her eyes,--a proof, she told him when he asked, that\nMaster Sweetheart was her sweetheart before all others upon earth.\n\nIt befell that our little Mistress Merciless and Master Sweetheart\nbecame fast friends, and the Queen of Sheba was handmaiden to them\nboth; for the simple, loyal creature had not a mind above the artless\nprattle of childhood, and the strange allegory of the lame boy's\nspeech filled her with awe, even as the innocent lisping of our little\nMistress Merciless delighted her heart and came within the\ncomprehension of her limited understanding. So each day, when it was\nfair, these three came into the full fair garden, and rambled there\ntogether; and when they were weary they entered into the arbor and\nsate together upon the Siege of Restfulness. Wit ye well there was not\na flower or a tree or a shrub or a bird in all that full fair garden\nwhich they did not know and love, and in very sooth every flower and\ntree and shrub and bird therein did know and love them.\n\nWhen they entered into the arbor, and sate together upon the Siege of\nRestfulness, it was Master Sweetheart's wont to tell them of the land\nof Ever-Plaisance, for it was a conceit of his that he journeyed each\nday nearer and nearer to that land, and that his journey thitherward\nwas nearly done. How came he to know of that land I cannot say, for I\ndo not know; but I am fain to believe that, as he said, the exceeding\nfair angels told him thereof when by night, as he lay sleeping, they\ncame singing and with caresses to his bedside.\n\nI speak now of a holy thing, therefore I speak truth when I say that\nwhile little children lie sleeping in their beds at night it pleaseth\nGod to send His exceeding fair angels with singing and caresses to\nbear messages of His love unto those little sleeping children. And I\nhave seen those exceeding fair angels bend with folded wings over the\nlittle cradles and the little beds, and kiss those little sleeping\nchildren and whisper God's messages of love to them, and I knew that\nthose messages were full of sweet tidings; for, even though they\nslept, the little children smiled. This have I seen, and there is none\nwho loveth little children that will deny the truth of this thing\nwhich I have now solemnly declared.\n\n[Illustration: The strange allegory of the lame boy's speech filled\nher with awe.]\n\nOf that land of Ever-Plaisance was our little Mistress Merciless ever\nfain to hear tell. But when she beset the rest of us to speak thereof\nwe knew not what to say other than to confirm such reports as Master\nSweetheart had already made. For when it cometh to knowing of that\nfar-off land,--ah me, who knoweth more than the veriest little child?\nAnd oftentimes within the bosom of a little, helpless, fading one\nthere bloometh a wisdom which sages cannot comprehend. So when she\nasked us we were wont to bid her go to Master Sweetheart, for he knew\nthe truth and spake it.\n\nIt is now to tell of an adventure which on a time befell in that full\nfair garden of which you have heard me speak. In this garden lived\nmany birds of surpassing beauty and most rapturous song, and among\nthem was one that they called Joyous, for that he did ever carol forth\nso joyously, it mattered not what the day soever might be. This bird\nJoyous had his home in the top of an exceeding high tree, hard by the\npleasant arbor, and here did he use to sit at such times as the little\npeople came into that arbor, and then would he sing to them such songs\nas befitted that quiet spot, and them that came thereto. But there was\na full evil cat that dwelt near by, and this cruel beast found no\npleasure in the music that Joyous did make continually; nay, that\nmusic filled this full evil cat with a wicked thirst for the blood of\nthat singing innocent, and she had no peace for the malice that was\nwithin her seeking to devise a means whereby she might comprehend the\nbird Joyous to her murderous intent. Now you must know that it was the\nwont of our little Mistress Merciless and of Master Sweetheart to feed\nthe birds in that fair garden with such crumbs as they were suffered\nto bring with them into the arbor, and at such times would those birds\nfly down with grateful twitterings and eat of those crumbs upon the\ngreensward round about the arbor. Wit ye well, it was a merry sight to\nsee those twittering birds making feast upon the good things which\nthose children brought, and our little Mistress Merciless and little\nMaster Sweetheart had sweet satisfaction therein. But, on a day,\nwhilst thus those twittering birds made great feasting, lo! on a\nsudden did that full evil cat whereof I have spoken steal softly from\na thicket, and with one hideous bound make her way into the very midst\nof those birds and seize upon that bird Joyous, that was wont to sing\nso merrily from the tree hard by the arbor. Oh, there was a mighty din\nand a fearful fluttering, and the rest flew swiftly away, but Joyous\ncould not do so, because the full evil cat held him in her cruel\nfangs and claws. And I make no doubt that Joyous would speedily have\nmet his death, but that with a wrathful cry did our little Mistress\nMerciless hasten to his rescue. And our little Mistress belabored that\nfull evil cat with Master Sweetheart's crutch, until that cruel beast\nlet loose her hold upon the fluttering bird and was full glad to\nescape with her aching bones into the thicket again. So it was that\nJoyous was recovered from death; but even then might it have fared\nill with him, had they not taken him up and dressed his wounds and\ncared for him until duly he was well again. And then they released him\nto do his plaisance, and he returned to his home in the tree hard by\nthe arbor and there he sung unto those children more sweetly than ever\nbefore; for his heart was full of gratitude to our little Mistress\nMerciless and Master Sweetheart.\n\nNow, of the dolls that she had in goodly number, that one which was\nnamed Beautiful did our little Mistress Merciless love best. Know well\nthat the doll Beautiful had come not from oversea, and was neither of\nwax nor of china; but she was right ingeniously constructed of a\nbed-key that was made of wood, and unto the top of this bed-key had\nthe Queen of Sheba superadded a head with a fair face, and upon the\nbody and the arms of the key had she hung passing noble raiment. Unto\nthis doll Beautiful was our little Mistress Merciless vastly beholden,\nand she did use to have the doll Beautiful lie by her side at night\nwhilst she slept, and whithersoever during the day she went, there\nalso would she take the doll Beautiful, too. Much sorrow and\nlamentation, therefore, made our little Mistress Merciless when on an\nevil day the doll Beautiful by chance fell into the fish-pond, and was\nnot rescued therefrom until one of her beauteous eyes had been\ndevoured of the envious water; so that ever thereafter the doll\nBeautiful had but one eye, and that, forsooth, was grievously faded.\nAnd on another evil day came a monster ribald dog pup and seized upon\nthe doll Beautiful whilst she reposed in the arbor, and bore her away,\nand romped boisterously with her upon the sward, and tore off her\nblack-thread hair, and sought to destroy her wholly, which surely he\nwould have done but for the Queen of Sheba, who made haste to rescue\nthe doll Beautiful, and chastise that monster ribald dog pup.\n\nTherefore, as you can understand, the time was right busily spent. The\nfull fair garden, with its flowers and the singing birds and the\ngracious arbor and the Siege of Restfulness, found favor with those\nchildren, and amid these joyous scenes did Master Sweetheart have to\ntell each day of that far-off land of Ever-Plaisance, whither he said\nhe was going. And one day, when the sun shone very bright, and the\nfull fair garden joyed in the music of those birds, Master Sweetheart\ndid not come, and they missed the little lame boy and wondered where\nhe was. And as he never came again they thought at last that of a\nsurety he had departed into that country whereof he loved to tell.\nWhich thing filled our little Mistress Merciless with wonder and\ninquiry; and I think she was lonely ever after that,--lonely for\nMaster Sweetheart.\n\nI am thinking now of her and of him; for this is the Christmas\nseason,--the time when it is most meet to think of the children and\nother sweet and holy things. There is snow everywhere, snow and cold.\nThe garden is desolate and voiceless: the flowers are gone, the trees\nare ghosts, the birds have departed. It is winter out there, and it is\nwinter, too, in this heart of mine. Yet in this Christmas season I\nthink of them, and it pleaseth me--God forbid that I offend with much\nspeaking--it pleaseth me to tell of the little things they did and\nloved. And you shall understand it all if, perchance, this sacred\nChristmas time a little Mistress Merciless of your own, or a little\nMaster Sweetheart, clingeth to your knee and sanctifieth your\nhearth-stone.\n\nWhen of an evening all the joy of day was done, would our little\nMistress Merciless fall aweary; and then her eyelids would grow\nexceeding heavy and her little tired hands were fain to fold. At such\na time it was my wont to beguile her weariness with little tales of\nfaery, or with the gentle play that sleepy children like. Much was her\nfancy taken with what I told her of the train that every night\nwhirleth away to Shut-Eye Town, bearing unto that beauteous country\nsleepy little girls and boys. Nor would she be content until I told\nher thereof,--yes, every night whilst I robed her in her cap and gown\nwould she demand of me that tale of Shut-Eye Town, and the wonderful\ntrain that was to bear her thither. Then would I say in this wise:\n\nAt Bedtime-ville there is a train of cars that waiteth for you, my\nsweet,--for you and for other little ones that would go to quiet,\nslumbrous Shut-Eye Town.\n\nBut make no haste; there is room for all. Each hath a tiny car that is\nsnug and warm, and when the train starteth each car swingeth\nsoothingly this way and that way, this way and that way, through all\nthe journey of the night.\n\nYour little gown is white and soft; your little cap will hold those\npretty curls so fast that they cannot get away. Here is a curl that\npeepeth out to see what is going to happen. Hush, little curl! make no\nnoise; we will let you peep out at the wonderful sights, but you must\nnot tell the others about it; let them sleep, snuggled close together.\n\nThe locomotive is ready to start. Can you not hear it?\n\n\"Shug-chug! Shug-chug! Shug-chug!\" That is what the locomotive is\nsaying, all to itself. It knoweth how pleasant a journey it is about\nto make.\n\n\"Shug-chug! Shug-chug! Shug-chug!\"\n\nOh, many a time hath it proudly swept over prairie and hill, over\nriver and plain, through sleeping gardens and drowsy cities, swiftly\nand quietly, bearing the little ones to the far, pleasant valley where\nlieth Shut-Eye Town.\n\n\"Shug-chug! Shug-chug! Shug-chug!\"\n\nSo sayeth the locomotive to itself at the station in Bedtime-ville;\nfor it knoweth how fair and far a journey is before it.\n\nThen a bell soundeth. Surely my little one heareth the bell!\n\n\"Ting-long! Ting-a-long! Ting-long!\"\n\nSo soundeth the bell, and it seemeth to invite you to sleep and\ndreams.\n\n\"Ting-long! Ting-a-long! Ting-long!\"\n\nHow sweetly ringeth and calleth that bell.\n\n\"To sleep--to dreams, O little lambs!\" it seemeth to call. \"Nestle\ndown close, fold your hands, and shut your dear eyes! We are off and\naway to Shut-Eye Town! Ting-long! Ting-a-long! Ting-long! To sleep--to\ndreams, O little cosset lambs!\"\n\nAnd now the conductor calleth out in turn. \"All aboard!\" he calleth.\n\"All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!\" he calleth in a kindly tone.\n\nBut, hark ye, dear-my-soul, make thou no haste; there is room for all.\nHere is a cosey little car for you. How like your cradle it is, for it\nis snug and warm, and it rocketh this way and that way, this way and\nthat way, all night long, and its pillows caress you tenderly. So step\ninto the pretty nest, and in it speed to Shut-Eye Town.\n\n\"Toot! Toot!\"\n\nThat is the whistle. It soundeth twice, but it must sound again before\nthe train can start. Now you have nestled down, and your dear hands\nare folded; let your two eyes be folded, too, my sweet; for in a\nmoment you shall be rocked away, and away, away into the golden mists\nof Balow!\n\n\"Ting-long! Ting-a-long! Ting-long!\"\n\n\"All aboard!\"\n\n\"Toot! Toot! Toot!\"\n\nAnd so my little golden apple is off and away for Shut-Eye Town!\n\nSlowly moveth the train, yet faster by degrees. Your hands are folded,\nmy beloved, and your dear eyes they are closed; and yet you see the\nbeauteous sights that skirt the journey through the mists of Balow.\nAnd it is rockaway, rockaway, rockaway, that your speeding cradle\ngoes,--rockaway, rockaway, rockaway, through the golden glories that\nlie in the path that leadeth to Shut-Eye Town.\n\n\"Toot! Toot!\"\n\nSo crieth the whistle, and it is \"down-brakes,\" for here we are at\nGinkville, and every little one knoweth that pleasant waking-place,\nwhere mother with her gentle hands holdeth the gracious cup to her\nsleepy darling's lips.\n\n[Illustration: \"Nestle down close, fold your hands, and shut your dear\neyes!\"]\n\n\"Ting-long! Ting-a-long! Ting-long!\" and off is the train again. And\nswifter and swifter it speedeth,--oh, I am sure no other train\nspeedeth half so swiftly! The sights my dear one sees! I cannot tell\nof them--one must see those beauteous sights to know how wonderful\nthey are!\n\n\"Shug-chug! Shug-chug! Shug-chug!\"\n\nOn and on and on the locomotive proudly whirleth the train.\n\n\"Ting-long! Ting-a-long! Ting-long!\"\n\nThe bell calleth anon, but fainter and evermore fainter; and fainter\nand fainter groweth that other calling--\"Toot! Toot! Toot!\"--till\nfinally I know that in that Shut-Eye Town afar my dear one dreameth\nthe dreams of Balow.\n\nThis was the bedtime tale which I was wont to tell our little Mistress\nMerciless, and at its end I looked upon her face to see it calm and\nbeautiful in sleep.\n\nThen was I wont to kneel beside her little bed and fold my two\nhands,--thus,--and let my heart call to the host invisible: \"O\nguardian angels of this little child, hold her in thy keeping from all\nthe perils of darkness and the night! O sovereign Shepherd, cherish\nThy little lamb and mine, and, Holy Mother, fold her to thy bosom and\nthy love! But give her back to me,--when morning cometh, restore ye\nunto me my little one!\"\n\nBut once she came not back. She had spoken much of Master Sweetheart\nand of that land of Ever-Plaisance whither he had gone. And she was\nnot afeard to make the journey alone; so once upon a time when our\nlittle Mistress Merciless bade us good-by, and went away forever, we\nknew that it were better so; for she was lonely here, and without her\nthat far-distant country whither she journeyed were not content.\nThough our hearts were like to break for love of her, we knew that it\nwere better so.\n\nThe tale is told, for it were not seemly to speak all the things that\nare in one's heart when one hath to say of a much-beloved child whose\nlife here hath been shortened so that, in God's wisdom and kindness,\nher life shall be longer in that garden that bloometh far away.\n\nAbout me are scattered the toys she loved, and the doll Beautiful hath\ncome down all-battered and grim,--yet, oh! so very precious to me,\nfrom those distant years; yonder fareth the Queen of Sheba in her\nservice as handmaiden unto me and mine,--gaunt and doleful-eyed, yet\nstanch and sturdy as of old. The garden lieth under the Christmas\nsnow,--the garden where ghosts of trees wave their arms and moan over\nthe graves of flowers; the once gracious arbor is crippled now with\nthe infirmities of age, the Siege of Restfulness fast sinketh into\ndecay, and long, oh! long ago did that bird Joyous carol forth his\nlast sweet song in the garden that was once so passing fair.\n\nAnd amid it all,--this heartache and the loneliness which the years\nhave brought,--cometh my Christmas gift to-day: the solace of a vision\nof that country whither she--our little Mistress Merciless--hath gone;\na glimpse of that far-off land of Ever-Plaisance.\n\n\n\n\nBETHLEHEM-TOWN\n\n\n    As I was going to Bethlehem-town,\n    Upon the earth I cast me down\n    All underneath a little tree\n    That whispered in this wise to me:\n    \"Oh, I shall stand on Calvary\n    And bear what burthen saveth thee!\"\n\n    As up I fared to Bethlehem-town,\n    I met a shepherd coming down,\n    And thus he quoth: \"A wondrous sight\n    Hath spread before mine eyes this night,--\n    An angel host most fair to see,\n    That sung full sweetly of a tree\n    That shall uplift on Calvary\n    What burthen saveth you and me!\"\n\n    And as I gat to Bethlehem-town,\n    Lo! wise men came that bore a crown.\n    \"Is there,\" cried I, \"in Bethlehem\n    A King shall wear this diadem?\"\n    \"Good sooth,\" they quoth, \"and it is He\n    That shall be lifted on the tree\n    And freely shed on Calvary\n    What blood redeemeth us and thee!\"\n\n    Unto a Child in Bethlehem-town\n    The wise men came and brought the crown;\n    And while the infant smiling slept,\n    Upon their knees they fell and wept;\n    But, with her babe upon her knee,\n    Naught recked that Mother of the tree,\n    That should uplift on Calvary\n    What burthen saveth all and me.\n\n    Again I walk in Bethlehem-town\n    And think on Him that wears the crown.\n    I may not kiss His feet again,\n    Nor worship Him as did I then;\n    My King hath died upon the tree,\n    And hath outpoured on Calvary\n    What blood redeemeth you and me!\n\n[Illustration:\n    But, with her babe upon her knee,\n    Naught recked that Mother of the tree.\n]\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE\n\n\nOnce upon a time the forest was in a great commotion. Early in the\nevening the wise old cedars had shaken their heads ominously and\npredicted strange things. They had lived in the forest many, many\nyears; but never had they seen such marvellous sights as were to be\nseen now in the sky, and upon the hills, and in the distant village.\n\n\"Pray tell us what you see,\" pleaded a little vine; \"we who are not as\ntall as you can behold none of these wonderful things. Describe them\nto us, that we may enjoy them with you.\"\n\n\"I am filled with such amazement,\" said one of the cedars, \"that I can\nhardly speak. The whole sky seems to be aflame, and the stars appear\nto be dancing among the clouds; angels walk down from heaven to the\nearth, and enter the village or talk with the shepherds upon the\nhills.\"\n\nThe vine listened in mute astonishment. Such things never before had\nhappened. The vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was\na tiny tree, so small it scarcely ever was noticed; yet it was a very\nbeautiful little tree, and the vines and ferns and mosses and other\nhumble residents of the forest loved it dearly.\n\n\"How I should like to see the angels!\" sighed the little tree, \"and\nhow I should like to see the stars dancing among the clouds! It must\nbe very beautiful.\"\n\nAs the vine and the little tree talked of these things, the cedars\nwatched with increasing interest the wonderful scenes over and beyond\nthe confines of the forest. Presently they thought they heard music,\nand they were not mistaken, for soon the whole air was full of the\nsweetest harmonies ever heard upon earth.\n\n\"What beautiful music!\" cried the little tree. \"I wonder whence it\ncomes.\"\n\n\"The angels are singing,\" said a cedar; \"for none but angels could\nmake such sweet music.\"\n\n\"But the stars are singing, too,\" said another cedar; \"yes, and the\nshepherds on the hills join in the song, and what a strangely glorious\nsong it is!\"\n\nThe trees listened to the singing, but they did not understand its\nmeaning: it seemed to be an anthem, and it was of a Child that had\nbeen born; but further than this they did not understand. The strange\nand glorious song continued all the night; and all that night the\nangels walked to and fro, and the shepherd-folk talked with the\nangels, and the stars danced and carolled in high heaven. And it was\nnearly morning when the cedars cried out, \"They are coming to the\nforest! the angels are coming to the forest!\" And, surely enough, this\nwas true. The vine and the little tree were very terrified, and they\nbegged their older and stronger neighbors to protect them from harm.\nBut the cedars were too busy with their own fears to pay any heed to\nthe faint pleadings of the humble vine and the little tree. The\nangels came into the forest, singing the same glorious anthem about\nthe Child, and the stars sang in chorus with them, until every part of\nthe woods rang with echoes of that wondrous song. There was nothing in\nthe appearance of this angel host to inspire fear; they were clad all\nin white, and there were crowns upon their fair heads, and golden\nharps in their hands; love, hope, charity, compassion, and joy beamed\nfrom their beautiful faces, and their presence seemed to fill the\nforest with a divine peace. The angels came through the forest to\nwhere the little tree stood, and gathering around it, they touched it\nwith their hands, and kissed its little branches, and sang even more\nsweetly than before. And their song was about the Child, the Child,\nthe Child that had been born. Then the stars came down from the skies\nand danced and hung upon the branches of the tree, and they, too, sang\nthat song,--the song of the Child. And all the other trees and the\nvines and the ferns and the mosses beheld in wonder; nor could they\nunderstand why all these things were being done, and why this\nexceeding honor should be shown the little tree.\n\nWhen the morning came the angels left the forest,--all but one angel,\nwho remained behind and lingered near the little tree. Then a cedar\nasked: \"Why do you tarry with us, holy angel?\" And the angel answered:\n\"I stay to guard this little tree, for it is sacred, and no harm shall\ncome to it.\"\n\nThe little tree felt quite relieved by this assurance, and it held up\nits head more confidently than ever before. And how it thrived and\ngrew, and waxed in strength and beauty! The cedars said they never had\nseen the like. The sun seemed to lavish its choicest rays upon the\nlittle tree, heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds\nnever came to the forest that they did not forget their rude manners\nand linger to kiss the little tree and sing it their prettiest songs.\nNo danger ever menaced it, no harm threatened; for the angel never\nslept,--through the day and through the night the angel watched the\nlittle tree and protected it from all evil. Oftentimes the trees\ntalked with the angel; but of course they understood little of what he\nsaid, for he spoke always of the Child who was to become the Master;\nand always when thus he talked, he caressed the little tree, and\nstroked its branches and leaves, and moistened them with his tears. It\nall was so very strange that none in the forest could understand.\n\nSo the years passed, the angel watching his blooming charge. Sometimes\nthe beasts strayed toward the little tree and threatened to devour its\ntender foliage; sometimes the woodman came with his axe, intent upon\nhewing down the straight and comely thing; sometimes the hot,\nconsuming breath of drought swept from the south, and sought to blight\nthe forest and all its verdure: the angel kept them from the little\ntree. Serene and beautiful it grew, until now it was no longer a\nlittle tree, but the pride and glory of the forest.\n\nOne day the tree heard some one coming through the forest. Hitherto\nthe angel had hastened to its side when men approached; but now the\nangel strode away and stood under the cedars yonder.\n\n\"Dear angel,\" cried the tree, \"can you not hear the footsteps of some\none approaching? Why do you leave me?\"\n\n\"Have no fear,\" said the angel; \"for He who comes is the Master.\"\n\nThe Master came to the tree and beheld it. He placed His hands upon\nits smooth trunk and branches, and the tree was thrilled with a\nstrange and glorious delight. Then He stooped and kissed the tree, and\nthen He turned and went away.\n\nMany times after that the Master came to the forest, and when He came\nit always was to where the tree stood. Many times He rested beneath\nthe tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage, and listened to the\nmusic of the wind as it swept through the rustling leaves. Many times\nHe slept there, and the tree watched over Him, and the forest was\nstill, and all its voices were hushed. And the angel hovered near like\na faithful sentinel.\n\nEver and anon men came with the Master to the forest, and sat with Him\nin the shade of the tree, and talked with Him of matters which the\ntree never could understand; only it heard that the talk was of love\nand charity and gentleness, and it saw that the Master was beloved and\nvenerated by the others. It heard them tell of the Master's goodness\nand humility,--how He had healed the sick and raised the dead and\nbestowed inestimable blessings wherever He walked. And the tree loved\nthe Master for His beauty and His goodness; and when He came to the\nforest it was full of joy, but when He came not it was sad. And the\nother trees of the forest joined in its happiness and its sorrow, for\nthey, too, loved the Master. And the angel always hovered near.\n\nThe Master came one night alone into the forest, and His face was pale\nwith anguish and wet with tears, and He fell upon His knees and\nprayed. The tree heard Him, and all the forest was still, as if it\nwere standing in the presence of death. And when the morning came,\nlo! the angel had gone.\n\n[Illustration: \"They are killing me!\" cried the tree.]\n\nThen there was a great confusion in the forest. There was a sound of\nrude voices, and a clashing of swords and staves. Strange men\nappeared, uttering loud oaths and cruel threats, and the tree was\nfilled with terror. It called aloud for the angel, but the angel came\nnot.\n\n\"Alas,\" cried the vine, \"they have come to destroy the tree, the pride\nand glory of the forest!\"\n\nThe forest was sorely agitated, but it was in vain. The strange men\nplied their axes with cruel vigor, and the tree was hewn to the\nground. Its beautiful branches were cut away and cast aside, and its\nsoft, thick foliage was strewn to the tenderer mercies of the winds.\n\n\"They are killing me!\" cried the tree; \"why is not the angel here to\nprotect me?\"\n\nBut no one heard the piteous cry,--none but the other trees of the\nforest; and they wept, and the little vine wept too.\n\nThen the cruel men dragged the despoiled and hewn tree from the\nforest, and the forest saw that beauteous thing no more.\n\nBut the night wind that swept down from the City of the Great King\nthat night to ruffle the bosom of distant Galilee, tarried in the\nforest awhile to say that it had seen that day a cross upraised on\nCalvary,--the tree on which was stretched the body of the dying\nMaster.\n\n\n\n\nSTAR OF THE EAST\n\n\n    Star of the East, that long ago\n      Brought wise men on their way\n    Where, angels singing to and fro,\n      The Child of Bethlehem lay--\n    Above that Syrian hill afar\n    Thou shinest out to-night, O Star!\n\n[Illustration:\n    To seek that manger out and lay\n      Our gifts before the child--\n    To bring our hearts and offer them\n    Unto our King in Bethlehem!\n]\n\n    Star of the East, the night were drear\n      But for the tender grace\n    That with thy glory comes to cheer\n      Earth's loneliest, darkest place;\n    For by that charity we see\n    Where there is hope for all and me.\n\n    Star of the East! show us the way\n      In wisdom undefiled\n    To seek that manger out and lay\n      Our gifts before the child--\n    To bring our hearts and offer them\n    Unto our King in Bethlehem!","title":"Christmas Tales and Christmas Verse","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":19291}