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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44942 ***
+
+[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE
+AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VOL. II.--NO. 60. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
+CENTS.
+
+Tuesday, December 21, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
+per Year, in Advance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "WHEN THE CLOCK STRUCK TWELVE."--[SEE NEXT PAGE.]]
+
+WHEN THE CLOCK STRUCK TWELVE.
+
+A Christmas Play in One Act.
+
+BY EDGAR FAWCETT.
+
+
+CHARACTERS.
+
+  The Baron Beautemps, _a wealthy French nobleman_.
+  Henri, _his son, aged twelve_.
+  Lucienne, _his daughter, aged ten_.
+  Gaspard, _serving-man in the château_.
+  Eloise, _maid of the_ Baroness Beautemps.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+(_The action passes in the spacious old castle of the_ Baron. _The time
+is about_ A.D. 1600.)
+
+
+SCENE.
+
+     _A portion of the grand upper hall in the Château de Beautemps.
+     Large antique fire-place at back, in which burns a sleepy wood
+     fire. Tapestried doors R. and L. Also R. and L., beyond either
+     door, entrances to corridors that communicate with main hall. Large
+     draped window R. of fire-place. Near R. door small cabinet, on
+     which is a silver candelabrum with lighted candle. Near door at L.
+     a similar candelabrum resting on heavy carved chair. As curtain
+     rises,_ Henri _and_ Lucienne _are discovered beside chimney-place
+     in act of hanging up stockings before it._ Lucienne _wears a
+     costume of brocaded silken stuff reaching to the ground, and a
+     small velvet hood, whence her hair flows in rich abundance._ Henri
+     _wears doublet with large collar, and knee-breeches._
+
+_Lucienne_ (_going to window, drawing curtains, and looking out. She
+then comes to front of stage_).
+
+  How cold and still! With what an icy glow
+  The stars are shining over the château!
+  And yonder, where the chapel roofs rise dark,
+  The crusted snow gives out a diamond spark.
+  Eleven strokes the great hall clock has rung.
+  Well, brother Henri, is your stocking hung?
+
+_Henri_ (_joining_ Lucienne _at front of stage_).
+
+  All's ready, sister; see how slim and white
+  Both stockings glimmer in the doubtful light.
+  I can't help wondering, as I watch them thus,
+  What gifts the Christinas Saint will bring to us.
+
+_Lucienne_.
+
+  Oh, everything we've wanted for a year!
+  To me a painted doll in bridal gear;
+  To you a sword, a cup and ball, a top;
+  To me, again--
+
+_Henri_.
+
+  Lucienne, I pray you, stop.
+  Dear sister, I've a secret to confess.
+
+_Lucienne_ (_eagerly_).
+
+  What is it, Henri? Anything I'll guess?
+  Ah, there! your face reveals it ere you speak:
+  You want a falcon, beautiful and sleek,
+  To hunt with in the spring, when field and glade
+  Hear the sweet bugles of the cavalcade.
+  Who knows?--Perchance good luck your bird may bring,
+  Tied to the chimney by a silken string.
+
+_Henri_.
+
+  No, no, Lucienne; in vain your wits would tire
+  To guess just what it is that I desire.
+  I want--come closer; let me speak it low--
+  I want--
+
+_Lucienne_ (_in alarm_).
+
+  Why, Henri, what disturbs you so?
+
+_Henri_.
+
+  The wish to look on that famed Saint who brings
+  At twelve each Christmas-eve such pretty things;
+  To watch old Santa Claus, as plain as day,
+  Steal to this hall in some mysterious way;
+  To mark his long white beard, his elfish mien,
+  And see what others have so rarely seen.
+
+_Lucienne_ (_agitated_).
+
+  Oh, Henri, brother, I am filled with dread!
+  How came so queer a fancy in your head?
+
+_Henri_.
+
+  Call it a whim, freak, folly, if you choose;
+  Only keep watch with me. You'll not refuse?
+
+_Lucienne_.
+
+  I should not dare! And yet--if I relent--
+
+_Henri_ (_kissing her_).
+
+  Dear, kind Lucienne! I thought you would consent.
+  Now hear my plan. Although a dangerous one,
+  Its very spice of danger lends it fun.
+  Our nurse, Florine, till two o'clock at least
+  Will dance, most likely, at the village feast.
+  She's stolen away, and begged me not to tell;
+  And I, be sure, will keep her secret well.
+  We to our chambers will meanwhile repair.
+  And till the clock strikes twelve hold vigil there.
+  Then we shall both glide out on stealthy feet,
+  And--
+
+_Lucienne_.
+
+  Feel my heart, Henri. Just hear it beat!
+
+_Henri_.
+
+  Oh, nonsense! Think how glorious it will be
+  To find him here, and know 'tis really he!
+  They say that midnight is his favorite hour
+  To show the merry magic of his power.
+  And if we spy upon his movements then,
+  We'll see him here alive. Oh, think, Lucienne!
+
+_Lucienne_ (_starting and looking about_).
+
+  But if your plan by any chance he knew,
+  What awful deed might Santa Claus not do?
+  Suppose that quickly as the turn of dice
+  His anger changed us into cats or mice?
+  Suppose as reindeers he should make us drag,
+  With monstrous horns, and feet that never flag,
+  The tinkling sled in which he journeys forth
+  Each Christmas-eve, from wild realms of the North?
+
+_Henri_ (_laughing_).
+
+  A doleful penance for so slight a sin!--
+  Come; they who nothing venture, nothing win.
+
+_Lucienne_.
+
+  But, mind, we'll only peep from either door;
+  We might indeed repent if we did more.
+
+[Illustration: _Henri_.
+  TRUE, SISTER; FOR A LITTLE WHILE WE PART.
+  UNTIL THE CLOCK STRIKES TWELVE BE STOUT OF HEART.]
+
+_Henri_ (_kissing her_).
+
+  True, sister; for a little while we part.
+  Until the clock strikes twelve be stout of heart.
+
+_Lucienne_ (_as they separate_).
+
+  On kind old Santa Claus to play the spies?
+
+_Henri_ (_taking candle from R._).
+
+  Our plan is made. Good-night till twelve o'clock.
+
+_Lucienne_ (_taking candle from L._).
+
+  What noise was that? It gave me such a shock!
+
+_Henri_ (_listening_).
+
+  A wainscot mouse that somehow came to grief.
+  Good-night.
+
+_Lucienne_.
+
+  Good-night. I'm trembling like a leaf.
+
+     [_Exeunt_ Henri _and_ Lucienne _at R. and L. doors. Each carries
+     away candle, and the stage is now wrapped in dimness._
+
+      _Enter_ Gaspard _and_ Eloise _from R. corridor._ Gaspard _follows_
+      Eloise _in slow, attentive way. He wears a doublet of some dull
+      red material, with yarn stockings and low buckled shoes._ Eloise
+      _wears a dress that reaches above her ankles, and a dainty white
+      apron, into which she occasionally thrusts both hands._]
+
+_Eloise_.
+
+  I pray you, Gaspard, cease these foolish airs,
+  These love-sick sighs and sentimental stares.
+  They've thrown Madame already in a pet;
+  She thinks me quite too young to marry yet.
+
+_Gaspard_.
+
+  Unpitying girl! I scarcely can believe
+  You'd show such cruelty on Christmas-eve.
+  I'll hang no stocking ere I rest to-night;
+  If filled at all 'twould not be filled aright. [_Sighs deeply._]
+
+_Eloise_ (_archly_).
+
+  And how would you prefer it filled, Sir Tease?
+
+_Gaspard_.
+
+  How save with one kind smile from Eloise!
+
+_Eloise_.
+
+  My smiles are not so cheaply gained as that.
+  Be off at once, and stop your silly chat!
+  'Tis nearly twelve--the hour, as rumor tells,
+  When Santa Claus begins his goblin spells.
+  Ah, could I once, with these two favored eyes,
+  The good Saint at his kindly task surprise,
+  I'd give--
+
+_Gaspard_ (_eagerly_).
+
+  You'd give--well, what, Eloise?--your heart?
+
+_Eloise_.
+
+  Why, certainly. But then you need not start.
+  There's no occasion to express content
+  By quite misunderstanding what I meant.
+
+_Gaspard_ (_very agitatedly_).
+
+  I don't misunderstand--oh, not at all.
+  You meant that if by chance it should befall
+  Yourself, Eloise, at midnight here to stray,
+  And look on Santa Claus, you might repay
+  Such privilege by--
+
+_Eloise_.
+
+  Ah, could I see the Saint,
+  Speeding his jovial pranks, with visage quaint,
+  'Twere hard to warn you where my grateful mood
+  Would place the limit of its gratitude.
+
+_Gaspard_ [_aside_].
+
+  What if to-night, disguised with cunning art,
+  I should myself enact Kris Kringle's part?
+
+_Eloise_.
+
+  Well, I must hurry on; the hour grows late.
+
+[Illustration: _Gaspard_.
+  STEAL HERE BY TWELVE O'CLOCK, WITH CAUTIOUS PACE,
+  AND TURN YOUR LOOK TOWARD YONDER CHIMNEY-PLACE.]
+
+_Gaspard_.
+
+  One moment, Eloise, I beg you wait.
+  The genial sprite whom you desire to meet
+  Perchance your longing gaze may really greet.
+  Steal here by twelve o'clock, with cautious pace,
+  And turn your look toward yonder chimney-place,
+  Then who shall say what marvel yet untold
+  'Twill be your happy fortune to behold?
+
+_Eloise_ [_aside_].
+
+  The sly deceiver! Would he dare assume
+  The guise of Santa Claus, and in the gloom
+  Of this deserted hall delude my sense,
+  Hoping to dupe me by some bold pretense?
+  I half believe so. Well, if this were true,
+  How nicely such deception he should rue!
+
+_Gaspard_.
+
+  You'll come, Eloise?
+
+_Eloise_.
+
+  Perhaps. I can't decide. [_Going toward corridor at R._]
+
+_Gaspard_ (_following her_).
+
+  By all means let your wish be gratified.
+  Accept my counsel.--Stop one moment, please.
+
+_Eloise_ (_hurrying off_).
+
+  I'll think of it. Good-night. [_Exit_ Eloise _at R._]
+
+_Gaspard_.
+
+  Nay, stop, Eloise!
+  Agree that when the clock strikes twelve you'll fare,
+  On timorous tiptoe, by the large North stair,
+  Down to this hall-- [_He pauses, looking off R._]
+
+  She's vanished like a dream!
+  Still, trust to fate, Gaspard, and work your scheme.
+
+     [_Exit_ Gaspard _at R., slapping breast confidently._
+
+      _Enter the_ Baron Beautemps _at L. The_ Baron _is disguised as
+      Santa Claus. He wears a white wig, a dark jerkin, with ruffled
+      breeches reaching a little below the knee; he carries a pack of
+      toys upon his back: he has a long white beard; his shoulders are
+      sprinkled with powdery substance, representing snow. He turns on
+      entering, and looks at the two stockings hung before chimney-place
+      with a fond, happy smile._]
+
+_Baron_.
+
+  Dear spotless little stockings, viewed with joy,
+  Pure memories of my darling girl and boy,
+  How tenderly though silently you tell
+  Of lightsome, pattering footsteps loved so well!
+
+     [_Laughs to himself softly._]
+
+  Ah, me! that I, a noble great in rank,
+  Should thus at midnight play the mountebank!
+  And all because I guess how young Henri,
+  With curious eagerness, resolves to see
+  That mystic Saint of Christmas, whom no eye
+  Discerns, whom some believe in, some deny!
+  Zounds! what a foolish father I have grown!
+  Does Henri sleep, or will he come alone,
+  Just as the clock strikes twelve, in night array,
+  This fire-lit hall's weird shadows to survey?
+  Well, if he comes, the wicked rogue shall find
+  A Santa Claus quite suited to his mind.--
+  And yet, while fancying his childish glee,
+  A strange, unpleasant thought oppresses me:
+  Suppose it chanced that while I lingered here
+  The real Kris Kringle should himself appear!
+  That situation would indeed be fine
+  For one decked out in mimic robes like mine.
+  Still, since this garb was easy to obtain
+  From old ball costumes of our last King's reign,
+  And since I knew how Henri's heart was set
+  On seeing the good Saint whom so few have met,
+  I quietly determined for one hour
+  To frolic thus, forgetting state and power.
+
+     [_Listens intently at R._]
+
+  A movement in the turret overhead.--
+  Some servant, doubtless, climbing to his bed.
+  Hark! steps! I'll fly at once--the sound grows near.
+  Too late. I am seen. Confusion!--who is here?
+
+     [_Enter_ Gaspard _at R. He is disguised as Santa Claus. He wears a
+     pair of taffetas breeches uncouthly rolled up to his knees, gray
+     yarn stockings, and an old jacket trimmed with rusty silver
+     buttons. He has a broad hat shading his face, and carries upon his
+     back some sort of huge stuffed sack. He stoops affectedly while
+     walking, and employs the slow, tottering pace of an aged man. Just
+     as he appears on stage, and while the_ Baron _retreats bewilderedly
+     toward L., twelve loud, solemn strokes sound, as if from a distant
+     clock._]
+
+_Gaspard_ (_who has observed the_ Baron) [_aside_].
+
+  Ah! Heaven, who can it be, in mercy's name?
+  That pack of toys, long beard, and stooping frame
+  'Tis Santa Claus, by everything that's queer!
+  My knees are failing me; I quake with fear.
+
+_Baron_ (_watching_ Gaspard) [_aside_].
+
+  That loaded form--that hesitating gait--
+  'Tis Santa Claus himself, as sure as fate!
+  I've not sufficient strength to flee away.
+  I'm positively frozen with dismay.
+
+     [Gaspard _and the_ Baron _now eye each other in great comic
+     bewilderment. The_ Baron _gives a nervous cough, and_ Gaspard
+     _starts in ludicrous terror._]
+
+_Gaspard_ [_aside_].
+
+  I'm nearly dead with fright--I choke and pant.--
+  I'll speak to him--ask pardon. No, I can't.
+
+     [Gaspard _here gives a heavy groan, at which the_ Baron _starts in
+     great alarm._]
+
+_Baron_ [_aside_].
+
+  Of course he means to do some dreadful thing.
+  Even now he seems preparing for a spring.
+
+     [_The_ Baron _here makes a loud shuddering sound, at which_ Gaspard
+     _sinks upon his knees._]
+
+_Gaspard_ [_aside_].
+
+  My legs have both collapsed--I'm most unwell.
+
+_Baron_ [_aside_].
+
+  Ye saints! he's muttering some horrid spell,
+  Calling some gnome, perchance, with grip of ice,
+  To shoot me up the chimney in a trice!
+
+     [_While_ Gaspard _and the_ Baron _regard each other in the dimness
+     with glances of mutual fear_, Henri _and_ Lucienne _peep forth from
+     doors at R. and L._]
+
+_Henri_ (_only perceiving_ Gaspard _at R., and speaking in an excited
+whisper_).
+
+  'Tis he! I look on Santa Claus at last.
+
+_Lucienne_ (_only perceiving the_ Baron, _her father, at L._).
+
+  He's here! And oh, my poor heart beats so fast!
+
+_Henri_ (_alluding to_ Gaspard).
+
+  With that large hat, his face I scarce behold.
+
+_Lucienne_ (_alluding to the_ Baron).
+
+  He wears no hat to shield him from the cold.
+
+_Henri_.
+
+  How strange he has no beard, as tales declare!
+
+_Lucienne_.
+
+  How long his beard is, and how white his hair!
+
+_Henri_.
+
+  I thought his clothes were snowy--it is not so.
+
+_Lucienne_.
+
+  He's very thickly covered o'er with snow.
+
+_Henri_ (_discovering the_ Baron _also_).
+
+  What! two of them! I can't believe it true.
+
+_Lucienne_ (_discovering_ Gaspard).
+
+  Oh dear! I never dreamed there would be _two_!
+
+_Gaspard_ (_rising, and staggering helplessly toward back of stage_)
+[_aside_].
+
+  I feel that he observes me like a lynx;
+  No doubt of some dark punishment he thinks.
+  I'll try to escape from his revengeful glare;
+  Perhaps he'll drag me back, though, by the hair.
+  He turns his head--pursues me with his eye.
+  My doom is sealed.--I'm very young to die!
+
+     [_Enter_ Eloise _at R. She comes slowly and cautiously upon stage.
+     As she does so_, Gaspard _conceals himself behind the curtain of
+     window at R. of chimney-place._ Eloise _discovers the_ Baron,
+     _gives a sudden start, and then addresses audience in quick,
+     agitated aside._]
+
+_Eloise_ [_aside_].
+
+  Beyond a doubt Gaspard is waiting there,
+  In beard and wig disguised with subtle care.
+  The artful scamp! how easy to perceive
+  This web of crafty guile he means to weave!
+  So, so, my clever trickster, you shall meet
+  Your match to-night in cunning and deceit.
+
+     [_Aloud_] (_addressing the_ Baron.)
+
+  Pray are you Santa Claus? If this be true,
+  It gives me joy, great Saint, to welcome you.
+
+_Gaspard_ (_half hidden behind curtain_) [_aside_].
+
+  What store of courage has the charming jade!
+  Now on my life, she's not a bit afraid!
+  She thanks her stars for this fine stroke of luck;
+  Her curiosity has lent her pluck.
+
+_Baron_ [_aside_].
+
+  It's Eloise.--An awkward thing, forsooth,
+  If this young waiting-maid should learn the truth!
+  No gossip for a mile but straight would know
+  That I, their lord, had wandered his château
+  At midnight, clad more like a circus clown
+  Than some proud nobleman of high renown.
+  How _shall_ I act? what say? I'm sick with dread.
+  The minx would doubtless follow if I fled.
+  Kris Kringle's gone, and I escape his ire,
+  Yet leave the frying-pan to find the fire.
+
+     [_While the_ Baron _speaks this aside_, Eloise _slowly draws nearer
+     to him, examining his appearance as closely as the dim light will
+     allow. Her manner shows extreme suppressed fun; she now and then
+     places her hand over her mouth, as though to restrain herself from
+     laughing aloud. Meanwhile_ Gaspard, _still half concealed behind
+     curtain, watches very intently what is passing. He seems distressed
+     by the boldness of_ Eloise. _He makes one or two gestures of eager
+     learning, but_ Eloise _entirely fails to perceive his presence.
+     This affords_ Gaspard _opportunity for much comic alarm and
+     generally humorous by-play. The_ Baron _retreats a little to L. as_
+     Eloise _approaches him from R. At length_ Eloise _addresses him, in
+     a voice of mock gravity._]
+
+_Eloise_.
+
+  Great Saint of Christmas! pardon, I beseech,
+  My wish to address you in poor mortal speech.
+  Yet now, while gazing on your reverend face,
+  I long to beg of you one special grace.
+
+_Gaspard_ (_with signs of marked surprise_) [_aside_].
+
+  Her words arouse in me an interest keen.
+  "One special grace." What can the vixen mean?
+
+_Baron_ [_aside_].
+
+  Was ever man more oddly placed than I?
+  She'll recognize my voice if I reply.
+
+_Eloise_.
+
+  Ah! treat me not with silent unconcern,
+  But grant, great Saint, the boon for which I yearn!
+
+_Gaspard_ [_aside_].
+
+  What is the boon that she has come to seek?
+  And why on earth does Santa Claus not speak?
+
+_Baron_ [_aside_].
+
+  I must respond; it is my only choice.
+  Yet _can_ I properly disguise my voice?
+
+_Henri_ (_from doorway at R._) [_aside_].
+
+  It's Eloise; some favor she would crave.
+  Upon my word, she's wonderfully brave.
+
+_Lucienne_ (_from doorway at L._) [_aside_].
+
+  How dare she go as near to him as that?
+  And where's the Santa Claus who wore the hat?
+
+     [Henri _and_ Lucienne _have been standing on the threshold of
+     either chamber in foreground, with only their heads peeping forth
+     from either doorway. They seem immensely concerned and occupied
+     with all that is now going on. A little while previously they have
+     discovered each other's presence, and made mutual signs of
+     astonishment._ Henri _has lifted two fingers of right hand, thus
+     indicating by expressive pantomime what surprise it has given him
+     to find that there are two Santa Clauses instead of one._ Lucienne
+     _has responded by similar pantomime._]
+
+_Eloise_.
+
+  You're silent still. Oh, is it, then, because
+  You speak some different language, Santa Claus?
+  I know, for my part, but a single tongue;
+  I left off going to school when rather young.
+
+     [_Aside_] (_with great secret amusement, while she looks toward
+     audience._)
+
+  The wily rascal, he is dumb from fear,
+  His voice being so familiar to my ear.
+  I'll make him talk, or else my woman's wit
+  Is less adroit than I imagine it.
+
+     [_Aloud once more, and in a voice of earnest pleading._]
+
+  Majestic Saint! how pitiless you are!
+  I wished to question you of one Gaspard,
+  A serving-man in Baron Beautemps' train,
+  Who loves me, and who grieves at my disdain.
+
+     [Eloise _now lifts finger roguishly at audience, and turns sly
+     looks toward the_ Baron _as she does so._ Gaspard _leans forward
+     from curtains, and listens with deep attention._]
+
+_Baron_ (_speaking in a very gruff, hollow voice, totally unlike his
+usual tones_).
+
+  Gaspard? Of him what question would you ask?
+  To deal with sweethearts never was my task.
+  If love's coquettish moods your phrase would paint,
+  'Twere best you should consult another saint.
+
+     [Eloise _shows marked surprise as these words are spoken. The voice
+     which the_ Baron _uses evidently arouses her astonishment. But by
+     the time he has ended she is once more looking at audience with
+     same sly expression as before. Meanwhile_ Henri _and_ Lucienne, _as
+     though terrified by the stern voice of him whom they suppose to be
+     Santa Claus, close doors at R. and L., disappearing wholly from
+     stage._]
+
+_Eloise_ [_aside_].
+
+  He's changed his voice; he's warier than I guessed.
+  Well, now, till all's revealed I'll never rest.
+
+     [_Aloud._]
+
+  Nay, mighty Saint, I tell it to my grief,
+  This lad, Gaspard, torments me past belief.
+  In hall or corridor I scarce can pause
+  But there he waits to accost me, Santa Claus.
+  His flattery turns me ill; with sigh and groan
+  He vows that Nature wrought my heart from stone;
+  Now rude and fierce, now penitent and meek,
+  He swears to hang himself three times a week;
+  But most, indeed, my wearied soul regrets
+  The doleful chant of stupid canzonets
+  Which night by night below my window's ledge,
+  Perched like a monkey on a slant roof's edge,
+  He drones when all the vast château is mute,
+  Hugging against his breast a crack-stringed lute.
+
+_Gaspard_ [_aside, and in tones of great melancholy_].
+
+  Oh, Eloise, relentless and untrue!
+  Complained of as a nuisance! and by you!
+
+     [Gaspard _covers face with hands, as though overwhelmed by grief._]
+
+_Baron_ [_at first aside_].
+
+  Good! I have fooled her, and with effort faint.
+  How easy it is to play the Christmas Saint!
+  A few more words that neatly shall beguile,
+  And lo! I'll flit away in ghostly style!
+
+     [_Aloud, to_ Eloise.]
+
+  No more, I pray. 'Tis not for me to deal
+  With lovers' destinies, their woe or weal.
+  That here within my presence you should come
+  But proves you singularly venturesome.
+  This once to o'erlook your rashness I will deign;
+  Pardon hereafter you shall seek in vain.
+  So stern the penalty for deeds thus bold,
+  Your very blood would curdle were it told;
+  Both limbs would fail your trembling form beneath,
+  Both jaws would scarce contain your chattering teeth.
+
+     [_The_ Baron _speaks these latter words in a terribly severe tone._
+     Gaspard _audibly shivers as he hears them._ Eloise _recoils and
+     seems at first quite horrified. Then suddenly, as though reminding
+     herself that it is, after all, not Santa Claus, but only her
+     sweetheart disguised for the purpose of deceiving her, she tosses
+     her head and regards the_ Baron _very courageously, placing a hand,
+     in the most saucy way, on each of her hips._]
+
+_Eloise_.
+
+  No doubt I should be frightened half to death--
+  Should scream, should stagger, and should catch my breath,
+  And thus, indeed, I really might behave--
+  Being not by temperament very brave--
+  Did I not chance to more than merely guess
+  The shrewd impostor whom I now address.
+
+_Baron_ [_aside_].
+
+  Impostor? She discovers, then, my sham?
+  Has she discovered also who I am?
+
+     [_Aloud, in same voice as before_].
+
+  Retire in haste, young maid, and wisely shirk
+  To insult Kris Kringle at his goodly work!
+
+_Eloise_ (_with sudden anger, stamping her foot, and, coming much nearer
+to the_ Baron).
+
+  Retire, indeed! And do you still surmise
+  I've not the sense to pierce your thin disguise?
+  I wonder, wicked knave that you appear,
+  The real Kris Kringle does not find you here,
+  And soundly punish you for this offense
+  In due proportion to its impudence.
+
+     [Eloise _here gives a loud, mocking laugh, and abruptly tears wig
+     from the_ Baron's _head, afterward pulling beard from his face
+     also._]
+
+  Of me, Gaspard, I'll teach you to make sport
+  With mask and mummery of this idle sort.
+  I'll bid you learn if Eloise will bear
+  Being juggled with by stratagems unfair.
+  I'll have you know--
+
+[Illustration:
+  _Eloise._ AH, HEAVEN! WHAT HAVE I DONE?
+  _Baron._ YOU'VE COUNTED ON YOUR GAME BEFORE 'TWAS WON.]
+
+     (_Discovering that it is the_ Baron, _and showing great
+     consternation._)
+
+  Ah, Heaven! what have I done?
+
+_Baron_ (_good-humoredly_).
+
+  You've counted on your game before 'twas won.
+
+     [Henri _and_ Lucienne _now peep forth cautiously from doors R. and
+     L. They gaze for a moment in amazement at the_ Baron, _and then
+     advance toward him from either side of stage._]
+
+_Henri_.
+
+  Papa, as I'm alive! How strange it seems!
+
+_Lucienne_.
+
+  It's like the way things happen in one's dreams.
+
+     [Gaspard, _as if thunderstruck, now quits his hiding-place, taking
+     off hat and throwing aside his pack._]
+
+_Gaspard_ (_to_ Eloise).
+
+  Ah, then, Eloise, those cruel words you spoke
+  Were all intended as a harmless joke?
+
+_Eloise_ (_agitatedly_).
+
+  Oh yes, Gaspard. I thought 'twas you disguised.
+  I never felt so startled--so surprised!
+
+_Henri_.
+
+  'Tis such a disappointment! I could cry!
+
+_Lucienne_.
+
+  I'd help you if you did, Henri.
+
+_Baron_ (_caressing both children_).
+
+  And why?
+
+_Henri_.
+
+  Two Santa Clauses! Think, papa, what fun!
+  And now you haven't left us even one!
+
+_Baron_.
+
+  Nay, never mind, dear children. We have seen
+  Two loving hearts grow blithesome and serene;
+  Made dark misunderstandings melt away
+  From both, like sombre vapors touched with day.
+
+     [_The_ Baron _looks toward_ Gaspard _and_ Eloise, _who hold each
+     other's hands, exchanging smiles of reconciliation._]
+
+_Eloise_ (_with sudden anxiety, addressing the_ Baron).
+
+  Oh, master, will you pardon my rude act?
+
+_Baron_.
+
+  Agreed; but one condition I exact:
+  Gaspard and you must promise both to keep
+  My own sly masquerade a secret deep.
+
+_Gaspard and Eloise_.
+
+  We promise, master!
+
+_Baron_.
+
+  Well, so be it; and I
+  Perchance will well reward you by-and-by.
+  The Baroness in my hearing lately said
+  That Eloise was still too young to wed.
+  But possibly persuasion may invent
+  Some private means of making her relent.
+
+[Illustration:
+  _Gaspard_. OH, THANKS! A THOUSAND THANKS, BENIGNANT LORD!]
+
+_Gaspard_ (_delightedly_).
+
+  Oh, thanks! a thousand thanks, benignant lord!
+
+_Henri_ (_to his father_).
+
+  Shall Lucienne and myself gain no reward
+  For keeping silent, as your will decrees,
+  Like happy Gaspard and his Eloise?
+
+_Baron_ (_taking one of the children's hands in each of his own_).
+
+  Ah, when you wake to-morrow, both shall find
+  Your stockings with sweet treasures richly lined.
+  Hie straight to bed, and ere the day return
+  Let each one here a valued lesson learn:
+  Gaspard and I shall grant, grown more discreet,
+  That danger paves the pathway to deceit;
+  While you, Henri, Lucienne, Eloise, shall own
+  That oft the unknown had best remain unknown;
+  Nor strive as now, on Christmas-eve, to delve
+  In goblin mysteries, while the clock strikes twelve.
+
+     [_All join hands and bow, as curtain falls._]
+
+END OF PLAY.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: NURSERY TILES-"THERE HE IS!"]
+
+
+
+
+HOW IT ALL HAPPENED.
+
+A Christmas Story.
+
+BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.
+
+
+It was a small room, with nothing in it but a bed, two chairs, and a big
+chest. A few little gowns hung on the wall, and the only picture was the
+wintry sky, sparkling with stars, framed by the uncurtained window. But
+the moon, pausing to peep, saw something pretty and heard something
+pleasant. Two heads in little round night-caps lay on one pillow, two
+pairs of wide-awake blue eyes stared up at the light, and two tongues
+were going like mill clappers.
+
+"I'm so glad we got our shirts done in time! It seemed as if we never
+should, and I don't think six cents is half enough for a great red
+flannel thing with three buttonholes--do you?" said one little voice,
+rather wearily.
+
+"No; but then we each made four, and fifty cents is a good deal of
+money. Are you sorry we didn't keep our quarters for ourselves?" asked
+the other voice, with an under-tone of regret in it.
+
+"Yes, I am, till I think how pleased the children will be with our tree,
+for they don't expect anything, and will be so surprised. I wish we had
+more toys to put on it, for it looks so small and mean with only three
+or four things."
+
+"It won't hold any more, so I wouldn't worry about it. The toys are very
+red and yellow, and I guess the babies won't know how cheap they are,
+but like them as much as if they cost heaps of money."
+
+This was a cheery voice, and as it spoke the four blue eyes turned
+toward the chest under the window, and the kind moon did her best to
+light up the tiny tree standing there. A very pitiful little tree it
+was--only a branch of hemlock in an old flower-pot, propped up with bits
+of coal, and hung with a few penny toys earned by the patient fingers of
+the elder sisters, that the little ones should not be disappointed.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+But in spite of the magical moonlight the broken branch, with its scanty
+supply of fruit, looked pathetically poor, and one pair of eyes filled
+slowly with tears, while the other pair lost their happy look, as if a
+cloud had come over the sunshine.
+
+"Are you crying, Dolly?"
+
+"Not much, Polly."
+
+"What makes you, dear?"
+
+"I didn't know how poor we were till I saw the tree, and then I couldn't
+help it," sobbed the elder sister, for at twelve she already knew
+something of the cares of poverty, and missed the happiness that seemed
+to vanish out of all their lives when father died.
+
+"It's dreadful. I never thought we'd have to earn our tree, and only be
+able to get a broken branch, after all, with nothing on it but three
+sticks of candy, two squeaking dogs, a red cow, and an ugly bird with
+one feather in its tail;" and overcome by a sudden sense of destitution,
+Polly sobbed even more despairingly than Dolly.
+
+"Hush, dear; we must cry softly, or mother will hear, and come up, and
+then we shall have to tell. You know we said we wouldn't seem to mind
+not having any Christmas, she felt so sorry about it."
+
+"I must cry, but I'll be quiet."
+
+So the two heads went under the pillow for a few minutes, and not a
+sound betrayed them as the little sisters cried softly in one another's
+arms, lest mother should discover that they were no longer careless
+children, but brave young creatures trying to bear their share of the
+burden cheerfully.
+
+When the shower was over, the faces came out shining like roses after
+rain, and the voices went on again as before.
+
+"Don't you wish there really was a Santa Claus, who knew what we wanted,
+and would come and put two silver half-dollars in our stockings, so we
+could go and see _Puss in Boots_ at the Museum to-morrow afternoon?"
+
+"Yes, indeed; but we didn't hang up any stockings, you know, because
+mother had nothing to put in them. It does seem as if rich people might
+think of poor people now and then. Such little bits of things would make
+us happy, and it couldn't be much trouble to take two small girls to the
+play, and give them candy now and then."
+
+"_I_ shall when I'm rich, like Mr. Chrome and Miss Kent. I shall go
+round every Christmas with a big basket of goodies, and give _all_ the
+poor children some."
+
+"P'r'aps if we sew ever so many flannel shirts we may be rich by-and-by.
+I should give mother a new bonnet first of all, for I heard Miss Kent
+say no lady would wear such a shabby one. Mrs. Smith said fine bonnets
+didn't make real ladies. I like her best, but I do want a locket like
+Miss Kent's."
+
+"I should give mother some new rubbers, and then I should buy a white
+apron, with frills like Miss Kent's, and bring home nice bunches of
+grapes and good things to eat, as Mr. Chrome does. I often smell them,
+but he never gives _me_ any; he only says, 'Hullo, chick!' and I'd
+rather have oranges any time."
+
+"It will take us a long while to get rich, I'm afraid. It makes me tired
+to think of it. I guess we'd better go to sleep now, dear."
+
+"Good-night, Dolly."
+
+"Good-night, Polly."
+
+Two soft kisses were heard, a nestling sound followed, and presently the
+little sisters lay fast asleep, cheek against cheek, on the pillow wet
+with their tears, never dreaming what was going to happen to them
+to-morrow.
+
+Now Miss Kent's room was next to theirs, and as she sat sewing she could
+hear the children's talk, for they soon forgot to whisper. At first she
+smiled, then she looked sober, and when the prattle ceased she said to
+herself, as she glanced about her pleasant chamber:
+
+"Poor little things! they think I'm rich, and envy me, when I'm only a
+milliner earning my living. I ought to have taken more notice of them,
+for their mother has a hard time, I fancy, but never complains. I'm
+sorry they heard what I said, and if I knew how to do it without
+offending her, I'd trim a nice bonnet for a Christmas gift, for she _is_
+a lady, in spite of her old clothes. I can give the children some of the
+things they want anyhow, and I will. The idea of those mites making a
+fortune out of shirts at six cents apiece!"
+
+Miss Kent laughed at the innocent delusion, but sympathized with her
+little neighbors, for she knew all about hard times. She had good wages
+now, but spent them on herself, and liked to be fine rather than neat.
+Still, she was a good-hearted girl, and what she had overheard set her
+to thinking soberly, then to acting kindly, as we shall see.
+
+"If I hadn't spent all my money on my dress for the party to-morrow
+night, I'd give each of them a half-dollar. As I can not, I'll hunt up
+the other things they wanted, for it's a shame they shouldn't have a bit
+of Christmas, when they tried so hard to please the little ones."
+
+As she spoke she stirred about her room, and soon had a white apron, an
+old carnelian heart on a fresh blue ribbon, and two papers of bonbons
+ready. As no stockings were hung up, she laid a clean towel on the floor
+before the door, and spread forth the small gifts to look their best.
+
+Miss Kent was so busy that she did not hear a step come quietly up
+stairs, and Mr. Chrome, the artist, peeped at her through the balusters,
+wondering what she was about. He soon saw, and watched her with
+pleasure, thinking that she never looked prettier than now.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Presently she caught him at it, and hastened to explain, telling what
+she had heard, and how she was trying to atone for her past neglect of
+these young neighbors. Then she said good-night, and both went into
+their rooms, she to sleep happily, and he to smoke as usual.
+
+But his eye kept turning to some of the "nice little bundles" that lay
+on his table, as if the story he had heard suggested how he might follow
+Miss Kent's example. I rather think he would not have disturbed himself
+if he had not heard the story told in such a soft voice, with a pair of
+bright eyes full of pity looking into his, for little girls were not
+particularly interesting to him, and he was usually too tired to notice
+the industrious creatures toiling up and down stairs on various errands,
+or sewing at the long red seams.
+
+Now that he knew something of their small troubles, he felt as if it
+would please Miss Kent, and be a good joke, to do his share of the
+pretty work she had begun.
+
+So presently he jumped up, and, opening his parcels, took out two
+oranges and two bunches of grapes, then he looked up two silver
+half-dollars, and stealing into the hall, laid the fruit upon the towel,
+and the money atop of the oranges. This addition improved the display
+very much, and Mr. Chrome was stealing back, well pleased, when his eye
+fell on Miss Kent's door, and he said to himself, "She too shall have a
+little surprise, for she is a dear, kind-hearted soul."
+
+In his room was a prettily painted plate, and this he filled with green
+and purple grapes, tucked a sentimental note underneath, and leaving it
+on her threshold, crept away as stealthily as a burglar.
+
+The house was very quiet when Mrs. Smith, the landlady, came up to turn
+off the gas. "Well, upon my word, here's fine doings, to be sure!" she
+said, when she saw the state of the upper hall. "Now I wouldn't have
+thought it of Miss Kent, she is such a giddy girl, nor of Mr. Chrome, he
+is so busy with his own affairs. I meant to give those children each a
+cake to-morrow, they are such good little things. I'll run down and get
+them now, as my contribution to this fine set out."
+
+Away trotted Mrs. Smith to her pantry, and picked out a couple of
+tempting cakes, shaped like hearts and full of plums. There was a goodly
+array of pies on the shelves, and she took two of them, saying, as she
+climbed the stairs again, "They remembered the children, so I'll
+remember them, and have my share of the fun."
+
+So up went the pies, for Mrs. Smith had not much to give, and her spirit
+was generous, though her pastry was not of the best. It looked very
+droll to see pies sitting about on the thresholds of closed doors, but
+the cakes were quite elegant, and filled up the corners of the towel
+handsomely, for the apron lay in the middle, with the oranges right and
+left, like two sentinels in yellow uniforms.
+
+It was very late when the flicker of a candle came up stairs, and a pale
+lady, with a sweet sad face, appeared, bringing a pair of red and a pair
+of blue mittens for her Dolly and Polly. Poor Mrs. Blake did have a hard
+time, for she stood all day in a great store that she might earn bread
+for the poor children who staid at home and took care of one another.
+Her heart was very heavy that night, because it was the first Christmas
+she had ever known without gifts and festivity of some sort. But Petkin,
+the youngest child, had been ill, times were very hard, the little
+mouths gaped for food like the bills of hungry birds, and there was no
+tender mate to help fill them.
+
+If any elves had been hovering about the dingy hall just then, they
+would have seen the mother's tired face brighten beautifully when she
+discovered the gifts, and found that her little girls had been so kindly
+remembered. Something more brilliant than the mock diamonds in Miss
+Kent's best ear-rings fell and glittered on the dusty floor as Mrs.
+Blake added the mittens to the other things, and went to her lonely room
+again, smiling as she thought how she could thank them all in a sweet
+and simple way.
+
+Her windows were full of flowers, for the delicate tastes of the poor
+lady found great comfort in their beauty. "I have nothing else to give,
+and these will show how grateful I am," she said, as she rejoiced that
+the scarlet geraniums were so full of gay clusters, the white
+chrysanthemum stars were all out, and the pink roses at their loveliest.
+
+They slept now, dreaming of a sunny morrow as they sat safely sheltered
+from the bitter cold. But that night was their last, for a gentle hand
+cut them all, and soon three pretty nosegays stood in a glass, waiting
+for dawn, to be laid at three doors, with a few grateful words which
+would surprise and delight the receivers, for flowers were rare in those
+hard-working lives, and kind deeds often come back to the givers in
+fairer shapes than they go.
+
+Now one would think that there had been gifts enough, and no more could
+possibly arrive, since all had added his or her mite except Betsey, the
+maid, who was off on a holiday, and the babies fast asleep in their
+trundle-bed, with nothing to give but love and kisses. Nobody dreamed
+that the old cat would take it into her head that her kittens were in
+danger, because Mrs. Smith had said she thought they were nearly old
+enough to be given away. But she must have understood, for when all was
+dark and still the anxious mother went patting up stairs to the
+children's door, meaning to hide her babies under their bed, sure they
+would save them from destruction. Mrs. Blake had shut the door, however,
+so poor Puss was disappointed; but finding a soft, clean spot among a
+variety of curious articles, she laid her kits there, and kept them warm
+all night, with her head pillowed on the blue mittens.
+
+In the cold morning Dolly and Polly got up and scrambled into their
+clothes, not with joyful haste to see what their stockings held, for
+they had none, but because they had the little ones to dress while
+mother got the breakfast.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Dolly opened the door, and started back with a cry of astonishment at
+the lovely spectacle before her. The other people had taken in their
+gifts, so nothing destroyed the magnificent effect of the treasures so
+curiously collected in the night. Puss had left her kits asleep, and
+gone down to get her own breakfast, and there, in the middle of the
+ruffled apron, as if in a dainty cradle, lay the two Maltese darlings,
+with white bibs and boots on, and white tips to the tiny tails curled
+round their little noses in the sweetest way.
+
+Polly and Dolly could only clasp their hands and look in rapturous
+silence for a minute; then they went down on their knees and revelled in
+the unexpected richness before them.
+
+"I do believe there _is_ a Santa Claus, and that he heard us, for here
+is everything we wanted," said Dolly, holding the carnelian heart in one
+hand and the plummy one in the other.
+
+"It must have been some kind of a fairy, for we didn't mention kittens,
+but we wanted one, and here are two darlings," cried Polly, almost
+purring with delight as the downy bunches unrolled and gaped till their
+bits of pink tongues were visible.
+
+"Mrs. Smith was one fairy, I guess, and Miss Kent was another, for that
+is her apron. I shouldn't wonder if Mr. Chrome gave us the oranges and
+the money: men always have lots, and his name is on this bit of paper,"
+said Dolly.
+
+"Oh, I'm _so_ glad! Now we shall have a Christmas like other people, and
+I'll never say again that rich folks don't remember poor folks. Come and
+show all our treasures to mother and the babies; they must have some,"
+answered Polly, feeling that the world was all right, and life not half
+as hard as she thought it last night.
+
+Shrieks of delight greeted the sisters, and all that morning there was
+joy and feasting in Mrs. Blake's room, and in the afternoon Dolly and
+Polly went to the Museum, and actually saw _Puss in Boots_; for their
+mother insisted on their going, having discovered how the hard-earned
+quarters had been spent. This was such unhoped-for bliss that they could
+hardly believe it, and kept smiling at one another so brightly that
+people wondered who the happy little girls in shabby cloaks could be who
+clapped their new mittens so heartily, and laughed till it was better
+than music to hear them.
+
+This was a very remarkable Christmas-day, and they long remembered it;
+for while they were absorbed in the fortunes of the Marquis of Carabas
+and the funny cat, who tucked his tail in his belt, washed his face so
+awkwardly, and didn't know how to purr, strange things were happening at
+home, and more surprises were in store for our little friends. You see,
+when people once begin to do kindnesses, it is so easy and pleasant they
+find it hard to leave off; and sometimes it beautifies them so that they
+find they love one another very much--as Mr. Chrome and Miss Kent did,
+though we have nothing to do with that except to tell how they made the
+poor little tree grow and blossom.
+
+They were very jolly at dinner, and talked a good deal about the Blakes,
+who ate in their own rooms. Miss Kent told what the children said, and
+it touched the soft spot in all their hearts to hear about the red
+shirts, though they laughed at Polly's lament over the bird with only
+one feather in its tail.
+
+"I'd give them a better tree if I had any place to put it, and knew how
+to trim it up," said Mr. Chrome, with a sudden burst of generosity,
+which so pleased Miss Kent that her eyes shone like Christmas candles,
+and she said,
+
+"Put it in the back parlor. All the Browns are away for a week, and
+we'll help you trim it--won't we, my dear?" cried Mrs. Smith, warmly;
+for she saw that he was in a sociable mood, and thought it a pity that
+the Blakes should not profit by it.
+
+"Yes, indeed; I should like it of all things, and it needn't cost much,
+for I have some skill in trimmings, as you know." And Miss Kent looked
+so gay and pretty as she spoke that Mr. Chrome made up his mind that
+millinery must be a delightful occupation.
+
+"Come on then, ladies, and we'll have a little frolic. I'm a lonely old
+bachelor, with nowhere to go to-day, and I'd like some fun."
+
+They had it, I assure you; for they all fell to work as busy as bees,
+flying and buzzing about with much laughter as they worked their
+pleasant miracle. Mr. Chrome acted more like the father of a large
+family than a crusty bachelor, Miss Kent's skillful fingers flew as they
+never did before, and Mrs. Smith trotted up and down as briskly as if
+she were sixteen instead of being a stout old woman of sixty.
+
+The children were so full of the play, and telling all about it, that
+they forgot their tree till after supper; but when they went to look
+for it they found it gone, and in its place a great paper hand with one
+finger pointing down stairs, and on it these mysterious words in red
+ink,
+
+"Look in the Browns' back parlor!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+At the door of that interesting apartment they found their mother with
+Will and Petkin, for another hand had suddenly appeared to them pointing
+up. The door flew open quite as if it was a fairy play, and they went in
+to find a pretty tree planted in a red box on the centre table, lighted
+with candles, hung with gilded nuts, red apples, gay bonbons, and a gift
+for each.
+
+Mr. Chrome was hidden behind one folding-door, and fat Mrs. Smith
+squeezed behind the other, and they both thought it a great improvement
+upon the old-fashioned Santa Claus to have Miss Kent, in the white dress
+she made for the party, with Mrs. Blake's roses in her hair, step
+forward as the children gazed in silent rapture, and with a few sweet
+words welcome them to the little surprise their friends had made.
+
+There were many Christmas trees in the city that night, but none which
+gave such hearty pleasure as the one which so magically took the place
+of the broken branch and its few poor toys. They were all there,
+however, and Dolly and Polly were immensely pleased to see that of all
+her gifts Petkin chose the forlorn bird to carry to bed with her, the
+one yellow feather being just to her taste.
+
+Mrs. Blake put on her neat bonnet, and was so gratified that Miss Kent
+thought it the most successful one she ever trimmed.
+
+She was well paid for it by the thanks of one neighbor and the
+admiration of another; for when she went to her party Mr. Chrome went
+with her, and said something on the way which made her heart dance more
+lightly than her feet that night.
+
+Good Mrs. Smith felt that her house had covered itself with glory by
+this event, and Dolly and Polly declared that it was the most perfect
+and delightful surprise party ever seen.
+
+It was all over by nine o'clock, and with good-night kisses for every
+one the little girls climbed up to bed laden with treasures and too
+happy for many words. But as they tied their round caps Dolly said,
+thoughtfully,
+
+"On the whole I think it's rather nice to be poor when people are kind
+to you."
+
+"Well, I'd _rather_ be rich; but if I can't be, it is very good fun to
+have Christmas trees like this one," answered truthful Polly, never
+guessing that they had planted the seed from which the little pine-tree
+grew so quickly and beautifully.
+
+When the moon came to look in at the window on her nightly round two
+smiling faces lay on the pillow, which was no longer wet with tears, but
+rather knobby with the mine of riches hidden underneath--first-fruits of
+the neighborly friendship which flourished in that house until another
+and a merrier Christmas came.
+
+
+
+
+THEN COMES SANTA CLAUS.
+
+
+  O children, little children,
+    You must be good, because
+  A few short days bring Christmas-eve,
+    And then comes Santa Claus.
+  And somebody will tell him
+    All that you've said and done
+  For many a week, and if he's pleased,
+    Heigh-ho! look out for fun.
+  So, children, little children,
+    Be lovely, dears, because
+  A few short days bring Christmas-eve,
+    And then comes Santa Claus.
+
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS AT BETHLEHEM.
+
+BY LYDIA M. FINKELSTEIN.
+
+
+Bethlehem, the birth-place of our Saviour, is situated about five miles
+from Jerusalem. It is customary for a great number of the residents of
+the Holy City, as well as the visitors, to spend Christmas-eve at
+Bethlehem, as the Roman Catholic Church celebrates it there with great
+pomp and ceremony. Most of those who belong to that Church go there as
+worshippers, while many others go simply as spectators of the
+ceremonies.
+
+Those who intend to walk, as some prefer doing, set out in the morning
+or early part of the afternoon of the 24th of December, while such as
+ride never go before the afternoon, and keep on going till midnight. As
+there are neither coaches nor horse-cars running between these two
+places, people have to get there on donkeys, mules, camels, or horses,
+which animals are found in a large square situated in front of the Tower
+of David, near the Jaffa Gate, through which people usually go to
+Bethlehem. The muleteers and donkey-boys generally get a pretty accurate
+idea of the number to be accommodated by asking every one they meet if
+he intends going. They accordingly arrange their prices. It is best to
+secure one's steed betimes, lest one may be left to put up with a lame
+donkey or one-eyed horse. The animals that convey people in the early
+part of the afternoon have time to return and take another party.
+
+The principal personage who sets out from Jerusalem is the Roman
+Catholic Patriarch, with his priests and monks, accompanied by the
+French Consul and suite in full-dress uniforms. This important
+procession leaves Jerusalem about one o'clock. First comes a cavalcade
+of mounted police, in uniforms of green braided with red, sent by the
+Turkish authorities; next Come the Kâwasèe, _i.e._, police allowed by
+the local government to every Consul and Patriarch as body-guards,
+usually dressed in the national colors of the Consulate to which they
+belong. Each carries a long, thick, silver-headed mace, the bottom of
+which, on such occasions, rests on their stirrups; then follows the
+Patriarch, gorgeously attired in his purple cloak and Cardinal's hat;
+alongside of him are the Bishops and Consul, followed by a long train of
+secretaries, interpreters attached to the Consulate, and monks and
+priests; lastly comes a long line of those who are ready to go at that
+hour, most of them mounted on horses, but some on donkeys, mules, and
+even camels. Everybody is in good spirits, laughing, chatting, and
+cracking jokes good-naturedly.
+
+When this variegated procession nears Rachel's Tomb, which is situated
+on the Bethlehem road, it is met by hundreds of Bethlehemites of both
+sexes, all in holiday attire, who salute it with firing of guns and
+pistols, and with songs of welcome; then turning round, they head the
+procession, singing, drumming, firing, and clapping their hands. In this
+way they enter Bethlehem, and as they pass through the narrow streets
+they are greeted with acclamations of joy by all, and with songs of
+welcome from the windows by the women and children.
+
+Three monasteries and the great complex Church of the Nativity are all
+under one roof, which covers the stable-cave where Christ was cradled.
+They all form a great fortress-like edifice, in front of which is a
+large open square, in which the Turkish soldiers in Zouave uniforms are
+now ranged on each side of the road through which the procession is
+going to pass. A procession of priests and monks from the monastery,
+wearing magnificent robes, and preceded by a large number of chanting
+choristers gayly attired in red and white garments, meets the Patriarch
+and company with songs of praise. All dismount, and enter through the
+low iron door into this fine large building, which was built in the
+eleventh century, and are met by the hospitable friars, who show the way
+to the dining saloon, where the long tables are set with tempting
+refreshments. After the travellers have refreshed themselves, their
+respective rooms are shown them.
+
+The Church of the Nativity is a splendid high structure, and was first
+built by the Empress Helena in the fourth century. In the fifth century
+it was devastated; but it was restored by the Emperor Justinian in the
+year 630.
+
+There are services going on all the evening, but the grand service
+begins about midnight. The church is brilliantly lit with thousands of
+wax tapers, and is so crowded that there is scarcely standing room, and
+almost every worshipper carries a lighted wax taper. During the service,
+which is conducted by the Patriarch, some monks appear, dressed in
+sheep-skins, representing the shepherds. Suddenly a song of glorious
+melody bursts out from the assembled crowd of priests--that grand and
+majestic strain the "Gloria."
+
+The service continues till three o'clock in the morning, when it is
+ended by a procession, singing, headed by the Patriarch carrying a waxen
+image representing the Saviour in a golden crib, which is taken down
+into the grotto, _i.e._, the place or manger where it is supposed that
+Christ was born. This grotto is under the church, to which there are two
+descents; the one from the north side has a descent of sixteen steps,
+and the southern one has thirteen steps. Here there is a small low arch,
+over which can be seen, though somewhat defaced by time, a
+representation in mosaic of the birth of our Saviour, with which it was
+decorated by the Crusaders in the twelfth century. Around this arch,
+hanging almost to the ground, are fifteen gold lamps, which are kept
+burning night and day; four of them belong to the Roman Catholics, five
+to the Armenians, and six to the Greeks. A large marble slab covers the
+floor of the arched recess, in the middle of which is a round space
+displaying a stone of bluish color, which is said to be a jasper; this
+is surrounded by a large silver star, having this inscription on its
+broad border: "Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est." At a
+distance of about ten feet southeast from this arch a descent of three
+steps brings you into the Oratory of the Manger, which is about eight
+feet long by seven broad; here you see a manger hewn in the rock. At the
+east end of this oratory there is an altar dedicated to the Wise Men,
+for it is supposed to be the spot where they worshipped Jesus and
+offered Him their gifts. The roof and walls of the grotto are gracefully
+draped with crimson figured satin; the curtains are left open here and
+there, giving the spectator an opportunity to see the natural rock.
+Suspended from the ceiling are beautiful gold and silver lamps, which
+are always kept burning.
+
+When the Patriarch descends into this grotto another ceremony is
+performed--laying the image into the manger and wrapping it in
+swaddling-clothes; then another beautiful strain of praise is sung, and
+the bells chime the glad tidings that a Saviour is born. The monks, and
+priests here turn and embrace each other, saying, "Peace! peace!" the
+assembled crowd do the same, and saying to each other, in the beautiful
+expression so natural to the Orientals, "Is S-alaam kul siné ou nahna
+s-almean," _i.e._, "Peace! peace!--may we be long spared to celebrate
+this great rejoicing!"
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+SEEN IN A DREAM.
+
+BY M. E.
+
+
+  Into the dream-land, the wonderful dream-land,
+    Where the fairies that once lived in fairy-land throng,
+  And sugar-plum trees bloom both summer and winter,
+    And the sleep-time is short and the play-time is long,
+  Journeyed our darling, and there she beheld him
+    Who never was seen by the light of the sun--
+  Old Santa Claus, brave in green wreaths and red berries,
+    His merry eyes sparkling with mischief and fun.
+
+  With a shout of fat laughter he showered around her
+    I really can't tell you how many nice things:
+  Books, dollies, and oranges, tea-sets and apples,
+    Nuts, balls, and gay ribbons, and pictures and rings;
+  Like rain it came pouring, that shower of treasures,
+    And the bright moonlight lent it full many a gleam.
+  Oh! never brought Christmas a Santa Claus jollier
+    Than the jolly old Santa Claus seen in a dream!
+
+
+
+
+HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
+
+
+The Serial Stories omitted from this Christmas Number of YOUNG PEOPLE
+will be resumed in No. 61.
+
+SINGLE COPIES, 4 cents; ONE SUBSCRIPTION, one year, $1.50; FIVE
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+
+The Volumes of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE commence with the first Number in
+November of each year. Subscriptions may begin with any Number. When no
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+Remittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY-ORDER OR DRAFT, to avoid
+risk of loss.
+
+Volume I., containing the first 52 Numbers, handsomely bound in
+illuminated cloth, $3.00, postage prepaid: Cover, title-page, and index
+for Volume I., 35 cents; postage, 13 cents additional.
+
+  HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE, N. Y.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+A Christmas Carol
+
+BY HOWARD PYLE.
+
+
+1
+
+  God reft ye all good People,
+  That harken to our lay,
+    And hear the word,
+    That Chrift our Lord,
+  Was born upon this day.
+
+2
+
+  We lift our voices gladly,
+  And gladly we do fing,
+    Of that fame night,
+    That fhowed to light,
+  The promife He did bring.
+
+3
+
+  When Angels fang to Shepherds,
+  That kept their flocks that day,
+    And bade them feek,
+    Where mild and meek,
+  The infant Jefus lay.
+
+4
+
+  So when our life grows older,
+  And brings its winter's night,
+    May Angels fing,
+    And to us bring
+  Our Lord His truth and light.
+
+[Illustration: Music]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Harper's Young People, December 21,
+1880, by Various
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44942 ***