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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..35b4554 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51719 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51719) diff --git a/old/51719-8.txt b/old/51719-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1a6ee3d..0000000 --- a/old/51719-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1801 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Under The Holly, by Henry Fitz Randolph - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Under The Holly - Christmas-Tide in Song and Story - -Compiler: Henry Fitz Randolph - -Release Date: April 10, 2016 [EBook #51719] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE HOLLY *** - - - - -Produced by Judith Wirawan and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -UNDER THE HOLLY. - - - - -_The few Illustrations in this volume are copied from the elegant -edition of Irving's "Sketch Book," published by Macmillan & Co., with -more than one hundred engravings after designs by Randolph Caldecott._ - - - - -[Illustration: THE MANSION.] - - - - - UNDER THE HOLLY. - - - Christmas-Tide - IN - SONG AND STORY. - - - NEW YORK: - ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH AND COMPANY, - 38 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET. - - - - - _Copyright, 1887_, - BY ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH AND COMPANY. - - - University Press: - JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - CHRISTMAS 9 - - CHRISTMAS MINSTRELSY 17 - - A CHRISTMAS LULLABY 21 - - THE OLD OAK-TREE'S LAST DREAM 23 - - LITTLE GOTTLIEB 31 - - TINY TIM'S CHRISTMAS DINNER 36 - - CHRISTMAS CAROL 46 - - LAST NIGHT, AS I LAY SLEEPING 47 - - CHRISTMAS DAY IN LONDON 49 - - UNDER THE HOLLY-BOUGH 53 - - THE LITTLE MATCH-GIRL 55 - - A ROCKING HYMN 60 - - IN MEMORIAM 66 - - - - - Now that the time is come wherein - Our Saviour Christ was born, - The larders full of beef and pork, - The garners filled with corn; - As God hath plenty to thee sent, - Take comfort of thy labors, - And let it never thee repent - To feast thy needy neighbors. - - - - - _The winter thorn - Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord._ - - - _Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes - Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, - This bird of dawning singeth all night long: - And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; - The nights are wholesome,--then no planets strike, - No fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm, - So hallowed and so gracious is the time._ - - - _It was always said of him, that he knew how to keep - Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. - May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as - Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!_ - - - _At Christmas play and make good cheer - For Christmas comes but once a year._ - - - - -CHRISTMAS. - -_Extract from "The Sketch Book" of Washington Irving._ - - -Of all the old festivals, that of Christmas awakens the strongest and -most heartfelt associations. There is a tone of solemn and sacred -feeling that blends with our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a -state of hallowed and elevated enjoyment. The services of the church -about this season are extremely tender and inspiring. They dwell on the -beautiful story of the origin of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that -accompanied its announcement. They gradually increase in fervor and -pathos during the season of Advent, until they break forth in full -jubilee on the morning that brought peace and good-will to men. I do not -know a grander effect of music on the moral feelings than to hear the -full choir and the pealing organ performing a Christmas anthem in a -cathedral, and filling every part of the vast pile with triumphant -harmony. - -It is a beautiful arrangement, also, derived from days of yore, that -this festival, which commemorates the announcement of the religion of -peace and love, has been made the season for gathering together of -family connections, and drawing closer again those bands of kindred -hearts which the cares and pleasures and sorrows of the world are -continually operating to cast loose; of calling back the children of a -family who have launched forth in life, and wandered widely asunder, -once more to assemble about the paternal hearth, that rallying-place of -the affections, there to grow young and loving again among the endearing -mementos of childhood. - -There is something in the very season of the year that gives a charm to -the festivity of Christmas. At other times we derive a great portion of -our pleasures from the mere beauties of Nature. Our feelings sally forth -and dissipate themselves over the sunny landscape, and we "live abroad -and everywhere." The song of the bird, the murmur of the stream, the -breathing fragrance of spring, the soft voluptuousness of summer, the -golden pomp of autumn; earth with its mantle of refreshing green, and -heaven with its deep delicious blue and its cloudy magnificence,--all -fill us with mute but exquisite delight, and we revel in the luxury of -mere sensation. But in the depth of winter, when Nature lies despoiled -of every charm, and wrapped in her shroud of sheeted snow, we turn for -our gratifications to moral sources. The dreariness and desolation of -the landscape, the short gloomy days and darksome nights, while they -circumscribe our wanderings, shut in our feelings also from rambling -abroad, and make us more keenly disposed for the pleasures of the social -circle. Our thoughts are more concentrated; our friendly sympathies more -aroused. We feel more sensibly the charm of each other's society, and -are brought more closely together by dependence on each other for -enjoyment. Heart calleth unto heart; and we draw our pleasures from the -deep wells of living kindness, which lie in the quiet recesses of our -bosoms, and which, when resorted to, furnish forth the pure element of -domestic felicity. - -The pitchy gloom without makes the heart dilate on entering the room -filled with the glow and warmth of the evening fire. The ruddy blaze -diffuses an artificial summer and sunshine through the room, and lights -up each countenance into a kindlier welcome. Where does the honest face -of hospitality expand into a broader and more cordial smile, where is -the shy glance of love more sweetly eloquent, than by the winter -fireside? and as the hollow blast of wintry wind rushes through the -hall, claps the distant door, whistles about the casement, and rumbles -down the chimney, what can be more grateful than that feeling of sober -and sheltered security with which we look round upon the comfortable -chamber and the scene of domestic hilarity? - -The English, from the great prevalence of rural habits throughout every -class of society, have always been fond of those festivals and holidays -which agreeably interrupt the stillness of country life; and they were, -in former days, particularly observant of the religious and social rites -of Christmas. It is inspiring to read even the dry details which some -antiquarians have given of the quaint humors, the burlesque pageants, -the complete abandonment to mirth and good-fellowship, with which this -festival was celebrated. It seemed to throw open every door, and unlock -every heart. It brought the peasant and the peer together, and blended -all ranks in one warm, generous flow of joy and kindness. The old halls -of castles and manor-houses resounded with the harp and the Christmas -carol, and their ample boards groaned under the weight of hospitality. -Even the poorest cottage welcomed the festive season with green -decorations of bay and holly; the cheerful fire glanced its rays through -the lattice, inviting the passenger to raise the latch, and join the -gossip knot huddled round the hearth, beguiling the long evening with -legendary jokes and oft-told Christmas tales. - -One of the least pleasing effects of modern refinement is the havoc it -has made among the hearty old holiday customs. It has completely taken -off the sharp touchings and spirited reliefs of these embellishments of -life, and has worn down society into a more smooth and polished, but -certainly a less characteristic surface. Many of the games and -ceremonials of Christmas have entirely disappeared, and like the -sherris-sack of old Falstaff, are become matters of speculation and -dispute among commentators. They flourished in times full of spirit and -lustihood, when men enjoyed life roughly, but heartily and -vigorously,--times wild and picturesque, which have furnished poetry -with its richest materials, and the drama with its most attractive -variety of characters and manners. The world has become more worldly. -There is more of dissipation and less of enjoyment. Pleasure has -expanded into a broader but a shallower stream, and has forsaken many -of those deep and quiet channels where it flowed sweetly through the -calm bosom of domestic life. Society has acquired a more enlightened and -elegant tone; but it has lost many of its strong local peculiarities, -its home-bred feelings, its honest fireside delights. The traditionary -customs of golden-hearted antiquity, its feudal hospitalities and lordly -wassailings, have passed away with the baronial castles and stately -manor-houses in which they were celebrated. They comported with the -shadowy hall, the great oaken gallery, and the tapestried parlor, but -are unfitted to the light showy saloons and gay drawing-rooms of the -modern villa. - -Shorn, however, as it is, of its ancient and festive honors, Christmas -is still a period of delightful excitement in England. It is gratifying -to see that home feeling completely aroused which seems to hold so -powerful a place in every English bosom. The preparations making on -every side for the social board that is again to unite friends and -kindred; the presents of good cheer passing and repassing, those tokens -of regard and quickeners of kind feelings; the evergreens distributed -about houses and churches, emblems of peace and gladness,--all these -have the most pleasing effect in producing fond associations, and -kindling benevolent sympathies. Even the sound of the waits, rude as may -be their minstrelsy, breaks upon the mid-watches of a winter night with -the effect of perfect harmony. As I have been awakened by them in that -still and solemn hour, "when deep sleep falleth upon man," I have -listened with a hushed delight, and, connecting them with the sacred and -joyous occasion, have almost fancied them into another celestial choir, -announcing peace and good-will to mankind. - - * * * * * - -Amidst the general call to happiness, the bustle of the spirits, and -stir of the affections, which prevail at this period, what bosom can -remain insensible? It is, indeed, the season of regenerated -feeling,--the season for kindling, not merely the fire of hospitality in -the hall, but the genial flame of charity in the heart. - -The scene of early love again rises green to memory beyond the sterile -waste of years; and the idea of home, fraught with the fragrance of -home-dwelling joys, re-animates the drooping spirit,--as the Arabian -breeze will sometimes waft the freshness of the distant fields to the -weary pilgrim of the desert. - - * * * * * - -He who can turn churlishly away from contemplating the felicity of his -fellow-beings, and sit down darkling and repining in his loneliness when -all around is joyful, may have his moments of strong excitement and -selfish gratification, but he wants the genial and social sympathies -which constitute the charm of a merry Christmas. - -[Illustration: A scene of a host welcoming guests at his door] - - - - -CHRISTMAS MINSTRELSY. - -_Dedication of Wordsworth's River Duddon Sonnets, to his brother Dr. -Wordsworth._ - - - The minstrels played their Christmas tune - To-night beneath my cottage eaves; - While smitten by a lofty moon, - The encircling laurels, thick with leaves, - Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen, - That overpowered their natural green. - - Through hill and valley every breeze - Had sunk to rest with folded wings: - Keen was the air, but could not freeze - Nor check the music of the strings; - So stout and hardy were the band - That scraped the chords with strenuous hand. - - And who but listened?--till was paid - Respect to every inmate's claim: - The greeting given, the music played, - In honor of each household name, - Duly pronounced with lusty call, - And a merry Christmas wished to all. - - O Brother! I revere the choice - That took thee from thy native hills; - And it is given thee to rejoice: - Though public care full often tills - (Heaven only witness of the toil) - A barren and ungrateful soil. - - Yet would that thou, with me and mine, - Hadst heard this never-failing rite; - And seen on other faces shine - A true revival of the light - Which Nature and these rustic powers, - In simple childhood, spread through ours! - - For pleasure hath not ceased to wait - On these expected annual rounds, - Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate - Call forth the unelaborate sounds, - Or they are offered at the door - That guards the lowliest of the poor. - - How touching, when at midnight sweep - Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark, - To hear--and sink again to sleep! - Or at an earlier call, to mark, - By blazing fire, the still suspense - Of self-complacent innocence; - - The mutual nod,--the grave disguise - Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er, - And some unbidden tears that rise - For names once heard, and heard no more; - Tears brightened by the serenade - For infant in the cradle laid! - - Ah! not for emerald fields alone, - With ambient streams more pure and bright - Than fabled Cytherea's zone - Glittering before the Thunderer's sight, - Is to my heart of hearts endeared - The ground where we were born and reared! - - Hail ancient manners! sure defence, - Where they survive, of wholesome laws; - Remnants of love whose modest sense - Thus into narrow room withdraws: - Hail usages of pristine mould, - And ye that guard them, mountains old! - - Bear with me, Brother! quench the thought - That slights this passion or condemns; - If thee fond fancy ever brought - From the proud margin of the Thames, - And Lambeth's venerable towers, - To humbler streams and greener bowers. - - Yes, they can make, who fail to find, - Short leisure even in busiest days; - Moments to cast a look behind, - And profit by those kindly rays - That through the clouds do sometimes steal, - And all the far-off past reveal. - - Hence, while the imperial city's din - Beats frequent on thy satiate ear, - A pleased attention I may win - To agitations less severe, - That neither overwhelm nor cloy, - But fill the hollow vale with joy! - - - - -A CHRISTMAS LULLABY. - -_By John Addington Symonds._ - - - Sleep, baby, sleep! the Mother sings: - Heaven's angels kneel and fold their wings: - Sleep, baby, sleep! - - With swathes of scented hay thy bed - By Mary's hand at eve was spread. - Sleep, baby, sleep! - - At midnight came the shepherds, they - Whom seraphs wakened by the way. - Sleep, baby, sleep! - - And three kings from the East afar - Ere dawn came guided by thy star. - Sleep, baby, sleep! - - They brought thee gifts of gold and gems, - Pure orient pearls, rich diadems. - Sleep, baby, sleep! - - But thou who liest slumbering there, - Art King of kings, earth, ocean, air. - Sleep, baby, sleep! - - Sleep, baby, sleep! The shepherds sing; - Through heaven, through earth, hosannas ring. - Sleep, baby, sleep! - - - - -THE OLD OAK-TREE'S LAST DREAM. - -_By Hans Christian Andersen._ - - -The Oak-tree stood stripped of all his foliage, ready to go to rest for -the whole winter, and in it to dream many dreams,--to dream of the past, -just as men dream. - -The tree had once been a little one, and had had a field for its cradle. -Now, according to human reckoning, he was in his fourth century. He was -the tallest and mightiest tree in the woods; his crown towered high -above all the other trees, and was seen far out on the sea, serving as a -beacon to ships; but the old Oak-tree had never thought how many eyes -sought him out from afar. - -High up in his green crown wood-doves had built their nests, and the -cuckoo perched to announce spring; and in the autumn, when his leaves -looked like copper-plates hammered out thin, birds of passage came and -rested awhile among the boughs, before they flew across the seas. But -now it was winter; the tree stood leafless, and the bowed and crooked -branches displayed their dark outlines; crows and jackdaws came -alternately, gossiping together about the hard times that were -beginning, and the difficulty of getting food during the winter. - -It was just at the holy Christmas-tide that the Oak-tree dreamt his most -beautiful dream: this dream we will hear. - -The tree had a foreboding that a festive season was nigh; he seemed to -hear the church-bells ringing all round, and to feel as though it were a -mild, warm summer day. Fresh and green, he reared his mighty crown on -high; the sunbeams played among his leaves and boughs; the air was -filled with fragrance; bright-colored butterflies gambolled, and gnats -danced,--which was all they could do to show their joy. And all that the -tree had beheld during his life passed by as in a festive procession. -Knights and ladies, with feathers in their caps, and hawks perching on -their wrists, rode gayly through the wood; dogs barked, and the huntsman -sounded his bugle. Then came foreign soldiers in bright armor and gay -vestments, bearing spears and halberds, setting up their tents, and -presently taking them down again; then watch-fires blazed up, and bands -of wild outlaws sang, revelled, and slept under the tree's outstretched -boughs, or happy lovers met in the quiet moonlight, and carved their -initials on the grayish bark. At one time a guitar, at another an Ĉolian -harp, had been hung up amid the old oak's boughs, by merry travelling -apprentices; now they hung there again, and the wind played so sweetly -with the strings. The wood-doves cooed, as though they would do their -best to express the tree's happy feelings, and the cuckoo talked about -himself as usual, proclaiming how many summer days he had to live. - -And now it seemed a new and stronger current of life flowed through him, -down to his lowest roots, up to his highest twigs, even to the very -leaves! The tree felt in his roots that a warm life stirred in the -earth,--felt his strength increase, and that he was growing taller and -taller. His trunk shot up more and more; his crown grew fuller; he -spread, he towered; and still, as the tree grew, he felt that his power -grew with it, and that his ardent longing to advance higher and higher -up to the bright warm sun increased also. - -Already had he towered above the clouds, which drifted below him, now -like a troop of dark-plumaged birds of passage, now like flocks of -large white swans. - -And every leaf could see, as though it had eyes; the stars became -visible by daylight, so large and bright, each one sparkling like a -mild, clear eye: they reminded him of dear kind eyes that had sought -each other under his shade,--lovers' eyes, children's eyes. - -It was a blessed moment; and yet, in the height of his joy, the Oak-tree -felt a desire and longing that all the other trees, bushes, herbs, and -flowers of the wood might be lifted up with him, might share in this -glory and gladness. The mighty Oak-tree, amid his dream of splendor, -could not be fully blessed unless he might have all, little and great, -to share it with him; and this feeling thrilled through boughs and -leaves as strongly, as fervently as though his were the heart of a man. - -The tree's crown bowed itself, as though it missed and sought something, -looked backward. Then he felt the fragrance of honeysuckles and violets, -and fancied he could hear the cuckoo answering himself. - -Yes, so it was! for now peeped forth, through the clouds, the green -summits of the wood; the other trees below had grown and lifted -themselves up likewise; bushes and herbs shot high into the air, some -tearing themselves loose from their roots, and mounting all the faster. -The birch had grown most rapidly; like a flash of white lightning, its -slender stem shot upward, its boughs waving like pale-green banners. -Even the feathery brown reed had pierced its way through the clouds; and -the birds followed, and sang and sang; and on the grass that fluttered -to and fro like a long streaming green ribbon perched the grasshopper, -and drummed with his wings on his lean body; the cockchafers hummed, and -the bees buzzed; every bird sang with all his might, and all was music -and gladness. - -"But the little blue flower near the water,--I want that too," said the -Oak-tree; "and the bell-flower, and the dear little daisy!" The tree -wanted all these. - -"We are here! we are here!" chanted sweet low voices on all sides. - -"But the pretty anemones of last spring, and the bed of -lilies-of-the-valley that blossomed the year before that! and the wild -crab-apple tree! and all the beautiful trees and flowers that have -adorned the wood through so many seasons--oh, would that they had lived -till now!" - -"We are here! we are here!" was the answer; and this time it seemed to -come from the air above, as though they had fled upward first. - -"Oh, this is too great happiness,--it is almost incredible!" exclaimed -the Oak-tree. "I have them all, small and great; not one of them is -forgotten! How can such blessedness be possible?" - -"In the kingdom of God all things are possible," was the answer. - -And the tree now felt that his roots were loosening themselves from the -earth. "This is best of all," he said; "now no bonds shall detain me, I -can soar up to the height of light and glory; and my dear ones are with -me, small and great,--I have them all!" - - * * * * * - -Such was the old Oak-tree's dream; and all the while, on that holy -Christmas Eve, a mighty storm swept over sea and land: the ocean rolled -its heavy billows on the shore; the tree cracked, was rent and torn up -by the roots, at the very moment when he dreamt that his roots were -disengaging themselves from the earth. He fell. His three hundred and -sixty-five years were now as a day is to the May-fly. - -On Christmas morning, when the sun burst forth, the storm was laid. All -the church-bells were ringing joyously; and from every chimney, even the -poorest, the blue smoke curled upward, as from the Druids' altar of old -uprose the sacrificial steam. The sea was calm again; and a large vessel -that had weathered the storm the night before, now hoisted all its -flags, in token of Yule festivity. "The tree is gone,--the old Oak-tree, -our beacon," said the crew; "it has fallen during last night's storm. -How can its place ever be supplied?" - -This was the tree's funeral eulogium, brief but well-meant. There he -lay, outstretched upon the snowy carpet near the shore; whilst over it -re-echoed the hymn sung on shipboard,--the hymn sung in thanksgiving for -the joy of Christmas, for the bliss of the human soul's salvation, -through Christ, and the gift of eternal life:-- - - "Sing loud, and raise your voices high, - For your redemption draweth nigh; - Lift up your heads, and have no fear! - The promised kingdom, it is here! - Oh, take the gift, in joy receive; - All things are his who will believe: - O little flock, what words can tell - The bliss of souls Christ loved so well? - Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" - -Thus resounded the old hymn; and every soul lifted up heart and desire -heavenward, even as the old tree had lifted himself on his last, best -dream,--his Christmas Eve dream. - -[Illustration: A scene of a park with trees and people strolling] - - - - -LITTLE GOTTLIEB. - -_By Phoebe Cary._ - - - Across the German Ocean, - In a country far from our own, - Once, a poor little boy, named Gottlieb, - Lived with his mother alone. - - They dwelt in a part of the village - Where the houses were poor and small, - But the house of little Gottlieb - Was the poorest one of all. - - He was not large enough to work, - And his mother could no more - (Though she scarcely laid her knitting down) - Than keep the wolf from the door. - - She had to take their threadbare clothes, - And turn, and patch, and darn; - For never any woman yet - Grew rich by knitting yarn. - - And oft at night beside her chair - Would Gottlieb sit, and plan - The wonderful things he would do for her - When he grew to be a man. - - One night she sat and knitted, - And Gottlieb sat and dreamed, - When a happy fancy all at once - Upon his vision beamed. - - 'Twas only a week till Christmas, - And Gottlieb knew that then - The Christ-child, who was born that day, - Sent down good gifts to men. - - But he said, "He will never find us, - Our home is so mean and small; - And we, who have most need of them, - Will get no gifts at all." - - When all at once a happy light - Came into his eyes so blue, - And lighted up his face with smiles, - As he thought what he could do. - - Next day, when the postman's letters - Came from all over the land, - Came one for the Christ-child, written - In a child's poor, trembling hand. - - You may think he was sorely puzzled - What in the world to do; - So he went to the Burgomaster, - As the wisest man he knew. - - And when they opened the letter, - They stood almost dismayed, - That such a little child should dare - To ask the Lord for aid. - - Then the Burgomaster stammered, - And scarce knew what to speak, - And hastily he brushed aside - A drop, like a tear, from his cheek. - - Then up he spoke right gruffly, - And turned himself about: - "This must be a very foolish boy, - And a small one, too, no doubt." - - But when six rosy children - That night about him pressed, - Poor, trusting little Gottlieb - Stood near him, with the rest. - - And he heard his simple, touching prayer - Through all their noisy play, - Though he tried his very best to put - The thought of him away. - - A wise and learned man was he, - Men called him good and just; - But his wisdom seemed like foolishness, - By that weak child's simple trust. - - Now, when the morn of Christmas came, - And the long, long week was done, - Poor Gottlieb, who scarce could sleep, - Rose up before the sun, - - And hastened to his mother; - But he scarce might speak for fear, - When he saw her wondering look, and saw - The Burgomaster near. - - He wasn't afraid of the Holy Babe, - Nor his mother, meek and mild; - But he felt as if so great a man - Had never been a child. - - Amazed the poor child looked, to find - The hearth was piled with wood, - And the table, never full before, - Was heaped with dainty food. - - Then, half to hide from himself the truth, - The Burgomaster said, - While the mother blessed him on her knees, - And Gottlieb shook for dread: - - "Nay, give no thanks, my good dame, - To such as me for aid; - Be grateful to your little son, - And the Lord, to whom he prayed!" - - Then turning round to Gottlieb, - "Your written prayer, you see, - Came not to whom it was addressed, - It only came to me! - - "'Twas but a foolish thing you did, - As you must understand; - For though the gifts are yours, you know, - You have them from my hand." - - Then Gottlieb answered fearlessly, - Where he humbly stood apart, - "But the Christ-child sent them all the same; - He put the thought in your heart!" - - - - -TINY TIM'S CHRISTMAS DINNER. - -_By Charles Dickens._ - - -Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but poorly in a -twice turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and make a -goodly show for sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda -Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master -Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting -the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's private property, -conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day) into his mouth, -rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his -linen in the fashionable Parks. And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and -girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt -the goose, and known it for their own; and basking in luxurious thoughts -of sage and onion, these young Cratchits danced about the table, and -exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he (not proud, -although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, until the slow -potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan lid to be let out -and peeled. - -"What has ever got your precious father then?" said Mrs. Cratchit. "And -your brother Tiny Tim! And Martha warn't as late last Christmas Day by -half an hour!" - -"Here's Martha, mother!" said a girl, appearing as she spoke. - -"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's -_such_ a goose, Martha!" - -"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said Mrs. -Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet -for her with officious zeal. - -"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," replied the girl, "and -had to clear away this morning, mother!" - -"Well! never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye -down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!" - -"No, no! there's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were -everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!" - -So Martha hid herself; and in came little Bob, the father, with at -least three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe hanging down -before him, and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed to look -seasonable, and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a -little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron frame! - -"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking round. - -"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit. - -"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits; -for he had been Tim's blood horse all the way from church, and had come -home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!" - -Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only a joke; so -she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his -arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off -into the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the -copper. - -"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had -rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his -heart's content. - -"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful, -sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever -heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the -church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to -remember upon Christmas Day who made lame beggars walk and blind men -see." - -Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when -he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty. - -His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny -Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister -to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob, turning up his -cuffs,--as if, poor fellow, they were capable of being made more -shabby,--compounded some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and -stirred it round and round and put it on the hob to simmer, Master Peter -and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with -which they soon returned in high procession. - -Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of -all birds,--a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter -of course; and in truth it was something very like it in that house. -Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) -hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor; -Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot plates; -Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table; the two -young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and -mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into their mouths, lest -they should shriek for goose before their turn came to be helped. At -last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a -breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the -carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, -and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of -delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two -young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and -feebly cried Hurrah! - -There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there ever was -such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were -the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed -potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as -Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a -bone upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last! Yet every one had -had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in -sage and onion to the eyebrows! But now the plates being changed by Miss -Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous to bear -witnesses--to take the pudding up, and bring it in. - -Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning -out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back yard, -and stolen it, while they were merry with the goose,--a supposition at -which the two young Cratchits became livid! All sorts of horrors were -supposed. - -Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell -like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and -a pastry-cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to -that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit -entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding, like a speckled -cannon-ball, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of -ignited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top. - -Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he -regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since -their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, -she would confess she had her doubts about the quantity of flour. -Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it -was at all a small pudding for a large family. It would have been flat -heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a -thing. - -At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth -swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and -considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a -shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew -round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a -one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass,--two -tumblers and a custard-cup without a handle. - -These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden -goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while -the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob -proposed:-- - -"A merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us." - -Which all the family re-echoed. - -"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all. - -He sat very close to his father's side, upon his little stool. Bob held -his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to -keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him. - -"Mr. Scrooge!" said Bob; "I'll give you, Mr. Scrooge, the Founder of the -Feast!" - -"The Founder of the Feast indeed!" cried Mrs. Cratchit, reddening. "I -wished I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast upon, -and I hope he'd have a good appetite for it." - -"My dear," said Bob, "the children! Christmas Day!" - -"It should be Christmas Day, I am sure," said she, "on which one drinks -the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr. -Scrooge. You know he is, Robert! Nobody knows it better than you do, -poor fellow!" - -"My dear," was Bob's mild answer, "Christmas Day!" - -"I'll drink his health for your sake and the Day's," said Mrs. Cratchit, -"not for his. Long life to him! A merry Christmas and a happy new year! -He'll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt!" - -The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of their -proceedings which had no heartiness in it! Tiny Tim drank it last of -all, but he didn't care twopence for it. Scrooge was the Ogre of the -family. The mention of his name cast a dark shadow on the party, which -was not dispelled for full five minutes. - -After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than before, from -the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done with. Bob Cratchit -told them how he had a situation in his eye for Master Peter, which -would bring in, if obtained, full five-and-sixpence weekly. The two -young Cratchits laughed tremendously at the idea of Peter's being a man -of business; and Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from -between his collars, as if he were deliberating what particular -investments he should favor when he came into the receipt of that -bewildering income. Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner's, -then told them what kind of work she had to do, and how many hours she -worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow morning for -a good long rest; to-morrow being a holiday she passed at home. Also -how she had seen a countess and a lord some days before, and how the -lord "was much about as tall as Peter," at which Peter pulled up his -collars so high that you couldn't have seen his head if you had been -there. All this time the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; and -by and by they had a song, about a lost child travelling in the snow, -from Tiny Tim, who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well -indeed. - -[Illustration: A scene of a village street with people wearing winter -clothings] - - - - -CHRISTMAS CAROL. - -_By Hans Christian Andersen._ - - - Child Jesus comes from heavenly height, - To save us from sin's keeping: - On manger straw, in darksome night, - The Blessed One lies sleeping. - The star smiles down, the angels greet, - The oxen kiss the Baby's feet. - Hallelujah, hallelujah, - Child Jesus. - - Take courage, soul, in grief cast down, - Forget the bitter dealing: - A Child is born in David's town, - To touch all souls with healing. - Then let us go and seek the Child, - Children like him, meek, undefiled. - Hallelujah, hallelujah, - Child Jesus. - - - - -LAST NIGHT, AS I LAY SLEEPING. - -_Anonymous._ - - - Last night, as I lay sleeping, - When all my prayers were said, - With my guardian angel keeping - His watch above my head, - I heard his sweet voice carolling, - Full softly on my ear, - A song for Christian boys to sing, - For Christian men to hear: - - "Thy body be at rest, dear boy, - Thy soul be free from sin; - I'll shield thee from the world's annoy, - And breathe pure words within. - The holy Christmas-tide is nigh, - The season of Christ's birth; - Glory be to God on high, - And peace to men on earth. - - "Myself and all the heavenly host - Were keeping watch of old, - And saw the shepherds at their posts, - And all the sheep in fold. - Then told we, with a joyful cry, - The tidings of Christ's birth; - Glory be to God on high, - And peace to men on earth. - - "He bowed to all his Father's will, - And meek he was and lowly; - And year by year his thoughts were still - Most innocent and holy. - He did not come to strive or cry, - But ever, from his birth, - Gave glory unto God on high, - And peace to men on earth. - - "Like him be true, like him be pure, - Like him be full of love; - Seek not thine own, and so secure - Thine own that is above. - And still, as Christmas-tide draws nigh, - Sing thou of Jesus' birth; - Glory be to God on high, - And peace to men on earth." - - - - -CHRISTMAS DAY IN LONDON. - -_By Charles Dickens._ - - -The poulterers' shops were still half open, and the fruiterers' shops -were radiant in their glory. There were great round, pot-bellied baskets -of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling -at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic -opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed Spanish onions, -shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish Friars, and winking -from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by and -glanced demurely at the hung up mistletoe. There were pears and apples, -clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made, -in the shop-keepers' benevolence, to dangle from conspicuous hooks that -people's mouths might water gratis as they passed; there were piles of -filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks -among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle-deep through withered -leaves; there were Norfolk Biffins, squab and swarthy, setting off the -yellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their -juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in -paper bags and eaten after dinner. The very gold and silver fish, set -forth among these choice fruits in a bowl, though members of a dull and -stagnant-blooded race, appeared to know that there was something going -on; and, to a fish, went gasping round and round their little world in -slow and passionless excitement. - -The Grocers'! oh, the Grocers'! nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters -down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses! It was not alone -that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that -the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters -were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended -scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the -raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the -sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, -the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the -coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it -that the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in -modest tartness from their highly decorated boxes, or that everything -was good to eat and in its Christmas dress; but the customers were all -so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they -tumbled up against each other at the door, crashing their wicker baskets -wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back -to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes, in the best -humor possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh -that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind -might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for -Christmas daws to peck at if they chose. - -[Illustration: IN THE CHURCH.] - -But soon the steeples called good people all to church and chapel; and -away they came, flocking through the streets in their best clothes and -with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores -of by-streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people, -carrying their dinners to the bakers' shops. The sight of these poor -revellers appeared to interest the Spirit very much; for he stood with -Scrooge beside him in a baker's doorway, and taking off the covers as -their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. -And it was a very uncommon kind of torch; for once or twice when there -were angry words between some dinner-carriers who had jostled each -other, he shed a few drops of water on them from it, and their good -humor was restored directly. For they said, it was a shame to quarrel -upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love it, so it was! - - - - -UNDER THE HOLLY-BOUGH. - -_By Charles Mackay._ - - - Ye who have scorned each other, - Or injured friend or brother, - In this fast-fading year; - Ye who, by word or deed, - Have made a kind heart bleed,-- - Come gather here. - Let sinned against and sinning - Forget their strife's beginning, - And join in friendship now; - Be links no longer broken, - Be sweet forgiveness spoken - Under the holly-bough. - - Ye who have loved each other, - Sister and friend and brother, - In this fast-fading year; - Mother and sire and child, - Young man and maiden mild,-- - Come gather here; - And let your hearts grow fonder, - As memory shall ponder - Each past unbroken vow: - Old loves and younger wooing - Are sweet in the renewing - Under the holly-bough. - - Ye who have nourished sadness, - Estranged from hope and gladness, - In this fast-fading year; - Ye with o'erburdened mind - Made aliens from your kind,-- - Come gather here. - Let not the useless sorrow - Pursue you night and morrow; - If e'er you hoped, hope now,-- - Take heart, uncloud your faces, - And join in our embraces - Under the holly-bough. - - - - -THE LITTLE MATCH-GIRL. - -_By Hans Christian Andersen._ - - -It was terribly cold; it snowed and was already almost dark, and evening -came on,--the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor -little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. -When she left her own house she certainly had had slippers on; but of -what use were they? They were very big slippers, and her mother had used -them till then, so big were they. The little maid lost them as she -slipped across the road, where two carriages were rattling by terribly -fast. One slipper was not to be found again; and a boy had seized the -other, and run away with it. He thought he could use it very well as a -cradle, some day when he had children of his own. So now the little girl -went with her little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the -cold. In an old apron she carried a number of matches and a bundle of -them in her hand. No one had bought anything of her all day, and no one -had given her a farthing. - -Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a picture of misery, -poor little girl! The snowflakes covered her long fair hair, which fell -in pretty curls over her neck; but she did not think of that now. In all -the windows lights were shining, and there was a glorious smell of roast -goose, for it was New Year's Eve. Yes, she thought of that! - -In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected beyond the -other, she sat down, cowering. She had drawn up her little feet, but she -was still colder, and she did not dare to go home, for she had sold no -matches, and did not bring a farthing of money. From her father she -would certainly receive a beating; and, besides, it was cold at home, -for they had nothing over them but a roof through which the wind -whistled, though the largest rents had been stopped with straw and rags. - -Her little hands were almost benumbed with the cold. Ah! a match might -do her good, if she could only draw one from the bundle, and rub it -against the wall, and warm her hands at it. She drew one out. R-r-atch! -how it sputtered and burned! It was a warm bright flame, like a little -candle, when she held her hands over it; it was a wonderful little -light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she sat before a great -polished stove, with bright brass feet and a brass cover. How the fire -burned! how comfortable it was! but the little flame went out, the stove -vanished, and she had only the remains of the burned match in her hand. - -A second was rubbed against the wall. It burned up; and when the light -fell upon the wall it became transparent like a thin veil, and she could -see through it into the room. On the table a snow-white cloth was -spread; upon it stood a shining dinner service; the roast goose smoked -gloriously, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was still more -splendid to behold, the goose hopped down from the dish, and waddled -along the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast, to the little -girl. Then the match went out, and only the thick, damp, cold wall was -before her. She lighted another match. Then she was sitting under a -beautiful Christmas tree; it was greater and more ornamented than the -one she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchant's. -Thousands of candles burned upon the green branches, and colored -pictures like those in the print shops looked down upon them. The -little girl stretched forth her hand toward them; then the match went -out. The Christmas lights mounted higher. She saw them now as stars in -the sky: one of them fell down, forming a long line of fire. - -"Now some one is dying," thought the little girl; for her old -grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, -had told her that when a star fell down a soul mounted up to God. - -She rubbed another match against the wall; it became bright again, and -in the brightness the old grandmother stood clear and shining, mild and -lovely. - -"Grandmother!" cried the child, "oh, take me with you! I know you will -go when the match is burned out. You will vanish like the warm fire, the -warm food, and the great, glorious Christmas tree!" - -And she hastily rubbed the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to -hold her grandmother fast. And the matches burned with such a glow that -it became brighter than in the middle of the day; grandmother had never -been so large or so beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and -both flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high; and up -there was neither cold nor hunger nor care,--they were with God. - -But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the poor girl with red -cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the Old -Year. The New Year's sun rose upon a little corpse! The child sat there, -stiff and cold, with the matches, of which one bundle was burned. "She -wanted to warm herself," the people said. No one imagined what a -beautiful thing she had seen, and in what glory she had gone in with her -grandmother to the New Year's Day. - - - - -A ROCKING HYMN. - -_From George Wither's "Hallelujah."_ - - - Sweet baby, sleep; what ails my dear? - What ails my darling thus to cry? - Be still, my child, and lend thine ear - To hear me sing thy lullaby. - _My pretty lamb, forbear to weep; - Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep._ - - Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear? - What thing to thee can mischief do? - Thy God is now thy Father dear; - His holy Spouse thy Mother too. - _Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep; - Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep._ - - * * * * * - - Whilst thus thy lullaby I sing, - For thee great blessings ripening be; - Thine eldest brother is a king, - And hath a kingdom bought for thee. - _Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep; - Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep._ - - Sweet baby, sleep, and nothing fear; - For whosoever thee offends, - By thy protector threatened are, - And God and angels are thy friends. - _Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep; - Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep._ - - When God with us was dwelling here, - In little babes he took delight: - Such innocents as thou, my dear, - Are ever precious in his sight. - _Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep; - Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep._ - - A little infant once was he, - And Strength-in-Weakness then was laid - Upon his Virgin-Mother's knee, - That power to thee might be conveyed. - _Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep; - Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep._ - - In this thy frailty and thy need - He friends and helpers doth prepare, - Which thee shall cherish, clothe, and feed, - For of thy weal they tender are. - _Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep; - Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep._ - - The King of kings, when he was born, - Had not so much for outward ease; - By him such dressings were not worn, - Nor such-like swaddling-clothes as these. - _Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep; - Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep._ - - Within a manger lodged thy Lord, - Where oxen lay and asses fed; - Warm rooms we do to thee afford, - An easy cradle or a bed. - _Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep; - Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep._ - - The wants that he did then sustain - Have purchased wealth, my babe, for thee, - And by his torments and his pain - Thy rest and ease securèd be. - _My baby, then, forbear to weep; - Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep._ - - Thou hast (yet more), to perfect this, - A promise and an earnest got - Of gaining everlasting bliss, - Though thou, my babe, perceiv'st it not. - _Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep; - Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep._ - - - - -IN MEMORIAM. - -_By Alfred, Lord Tennyson._ (Cantos XXVIII., XXIX., XXX.) - - - The time draws near the birth of Christ: - The moon is hid; the night is still; - The Christmas bells from hill to hill - Answer each other in the mist. - - Four voices of four hamlets round, - From far and near, on mead and moor, - Swell out and fail, as if a door - Were shut between me and the sound: - - Each voice four changes on the wind, - That now dilate, and now decrease, - Peace and good will, good will and peace, - Peace and good will, to all mankind. - - This year I slept and woke with pain, - I almost wished no more to wake, - And that my hold on life would break - Before I heard those bells again: - - But they my troubled spirit rule, - For they controlled me when a boy; - They bring me sorrow touched with joy, - The merry, merry bells of Yule. - - * * * * * - - With such compelling cause to grieve - As daily vexes household peace, - And chains regret to his decease, - How dare we keep our Christmas Eve; - - Which brings no more a welcome guest - To enrich the threshold of the night - With showered largess of delight, - In dance and song and game and jest. - - Yet go, and while the holly-boughs - Entwine the cold baptismal font, - Make one wreath more for Use and Wont, - That guard the portals of the house; - - Old sisters of a day gone by, - Gray nurses, loving nothing new; - Why should they miss their yearly due - Before their time? They too will die. - - With trembling fingers did we weave - The holly round the Christmas hearth; - A rainy cloud possessed the earth, - And sadly fell our Christmas Eve. - - At our old pastimes in the hall - We gambolled, making vain pretence - Of gladness, with an awful sense - Of one mute Shadow watching all. - - We paused: the winds were in the beech: - We heard them sweep the winter land; - And in a circle hand-in-hand - Sat silent, looking each at each. - - Then echo-like our voices rang; - We sung, though every eye was dim, - A merry song we sang with him - Last year: impetuously we sang: - - We ceased: a gentler feeling crept - Upon us: surely rest is meet: - "They rest," we said, "their sleep is sweet," - And silence followed, and we wept. - - Our voices took a higher range; - Once more we sang: "They do not die, - Nor lose their mortal sympathy, - Nor change to us, although they change: - - "Rapt from the fickle and the frail - With gathered power, yet the same, - Pierces the keen seraphic flame - From orb to orb, from veil to veil." - - Rise, happy morn, rise, holy morn, - Draw forth the cheerful day from night: - O Father, touch the east, and light - The light that shone when Hope was born. - -[Illustration: A scene of a village church] - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - -Words surrounded by _ are italicized. - -Small capitals are presented as all capitals in this e-text. - -Descriptions have been added to illustrations with no title. - -Obvious printer's errors have been repaired, other inconsistent -spellings have been kept, including inconsistent use of hyphen (e.g. -"good will" and "good-will"). - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Under The Holly, by Henry Fitz Randolph - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE HOLLY *** - -***** This file should be named 51719-8.txt or 51719-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/1/51719/ - -Produced by Judith Wirawan and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Under The Holly - Christmas-Tide in Song and Story - -Compiler: Henry Fitz Randolph - -Release Date: April 10, 2016 [EBook #51719] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE HOLLY *** - - - - -Produced by Judith Wirawan and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - - -<p class="center spaced"><big>UNDER THE HOLLY.</big></p> - - - -<blockquote> -<p><i>The few Illustrations in this volume are copied from -the elegant edition of Irving's "Sketch Book," published -by Macmillan & Co., with more than one hundred engravings -after designs by Randolph Caldecott.</i></p> - -</blockquote> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_004.jpg" width="400" height="554" alt="" title="THE MANSION." /> -<span class="caption">THE MANSION.</span> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h1>UNDER THE HOLLY.</h1> - -<p class="center spaced"><big>Christmas-Tide</big><br /> -<small>IN</small><br /> -SONG AND STORY.</p> - -<p class="center spaced"><big><b>* *</b></big></p> - -<p class="center spaced">NEW YORK:<br /> -ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH AND COMPANY,<br /> -38 <span class="smcap">West Twenty-Third Street</span>.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="center spaced"><i>Copyright, 1887</i>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">By Anson D. F. Randolph and Company</span>.</p> - -<p class="center spaced">University Press:<br /> -<span class="smcap">John Wilson and Son, Cambridge</span>.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> - - - -<div class="center"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<tr><td></td><td align="right"><span class="smcap"><small>Page</small></span></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Christmas</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Christmas Minstrelsy</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Christmas Lullaby</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Old Oak-tree's Last Dream</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_23">23</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Little Gottlieb</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Tiny Tim's Christmas Dinner</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Christmas Carol</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_46">46</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Last Night, as I lay Sleeping</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_47">47</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Christmas Day in London</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Under the Holly-bough</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_53">53</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Little Match-girl</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_55">55</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Rocking Hymn</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_60">60</a> </td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">In Memoriam</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_66">66</a> </td></tr> -</table></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now that the time is come wherein<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our Saviour Christ was born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The larders full of beef and pork,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The garners filled with corn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As God hath plenty to thee sent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take comfort of thy labors,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let it never thee repent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To feast thy needy neighbors.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i22"><i>The winter thorn</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>This bird of dawning singeth all night long:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>The nights are wholesome,—then no planets strike,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>No fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>So hallowed and so gracious is the time.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - - -<blockquote> - -<p><i>It was always said of him, that he knew how to keep -Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. -May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as -Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!</i></p></blockquote> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>At Christmas play and make good cheer</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For Christmas comes but once a year.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> - -<p class="right"><i>Extract from "The Sketch Book"<br /> -of Washington Irving.</i></p> - -<h2>CHRISTMAS.</h2> - - - -<p>Of all the old festivals, that of Christmas -awakens the strongest and most heartfelt -associations. There is a tone of solemn and -sacred feeling that blends with our conviviality, -and lifts the spirit to a state of hallowed and -elevated enjoyment. The services of the church -about this season are extremely tender and inspiring. -They dwell on the beautiful story of the -origin of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that -accompanied its announcement. They gradually -increase in fervor and pathos during the season -of Advent, until they break forth in full jubilee -on the morning that brought peace and good-will -to men. I do not know a grander effect of -music on the moral feelings than to hear the full -choir and the pealing organ performing a Christmas -anthem in a cathedral, and filling every part -of the vast pile with triumphant harmony.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> - -<p>It is a beautiful arrangement, also, derived -from days of yore, that this festival, which commemorates -the announcement of the religion of -peace and love, has been made the season for -gathering together of family connections, and -drawing closer again those bands of kindred -hearts which the cares and pleasures and sorrows -of the world are continually operating to cast -loose; of calling back the children of a family -who have launched forth in life, and wandered -widely asunder, once more to assemble about -the paternal hearth, that rallying-place of the -affections, there to grow young and loving again -among the endearing mementos of childhood.</p> - -<p>There is something in the very season of the -year that gives a charm to the festivity of Christmas. -At other times we derive a great portion of -our pleasures from the mere beauties of Nature. -Our feelings sally forth and dissipate themselves -over the sunny landscape, and we "live abroad -and everywhere." The song of the bird, the -murmur of the stream, the breathing fragrance -of spring, the soft voluptuousness of summer, the -golden pomp of autumn; earth with its mantle -of refreshing green, and heaven with its deep -delicious blue and its cloudy magnificence,—all -fill us with mute but exquisite delight, and we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> -revel in the luxury of mere sensation. But in -the depth of winter, when Nature lies despoiled -of every charm, and wrapped in her shroud of -sheeted snow, we turn for our gratifications to -moral sources. The dreariness and desolation -of the landscape, the short gloomy days and -darksome nights, while they circumscribe our -wanderings, shut in our feelings also from rambling -abroad, and make us more keenly disposed -for the pleasures of the social circle. Our -thoughts are more concentrated; our friendly -sympathies more aroused. We feel more sensibly -the charm of each other's society, and are -brought more closely together by dependence on -each other for enjoyment. Heart calleth unto -heart; and we draw our pleasures from the -deep wells of living kindness, which lie in the -quiet recesses of our bosoms, and which, when -resorted to, furnish forth the pure element of -domestic felicity.</p> - -<p>The pitchy gloom without makes the heart -dilate on entering the room filled with the glow -and warmth of the evening fire. The ruddy -blaze diffuses an artificial summer and sunshine -through the room, and lights up each countenance -into a kindlier welcome. Where does the -honest face of hospitality expand into a broader<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> -and more cordial smile, where is the shy glance -of love more sweetly eloquent, than by the winter -fireside? and as the hollow blast of wintry -wind rushes through the hall, claps the distant -door, whistles about the casement, and rumbles -down the chimney, what can be more grateful -than that feeling of sober and sheltered security -with which we look round upon the comfortable -chamber and the scene of domestic hilarity?</p> - -<p>The English, from the great prevalence of -rural habits throughout every class of society, -have always been fond of those festivals and -holidays which agreeably interrupt the stillness -of country life; and they were, in former days, -particularly observant of the religious and social -rites of Christmas. It is inspiring to read even -the dry details which some antiquarians have -given of the quaint humors, the burlesque pageants, -the complete abandonment to mirth and -good-fellowship, with which this festival was celebrated. -It seemed to throw open every door, -and unlock every heart. It brought the peasant -and the peer together, and blended all ranks in -one warm, generous flow of joy and kindness. -The old halls of castles and manor-houses resounded -with the harp and the Christmas carol, -and their ample boards groaned under the weight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> -of hospitality. Even the poorest cottage welcomed -the festive season with green decorations -of bay and holly; the cheerful fire glanced its -rays through the lattice, inviting the passenger to -raise the latch, and join the gossip knot huddled -round the hearth, beguiling the long evening with -legendary jokes and oft-told Christmas tales.</p> - -<p>One of the least pleasing effects of modern -refinement is the havoc it has made among the -hearty old holiday customs. It has completely -taken off the sharp touchings and spirited reliefs -of these embellishments of life, and has worn -down society into a more smooth and polished, -but certainly a less characteristic surface. Many -of the games and ceremonials of Christmas have -entirely disappeared, and like the sherris-sack -of old Falstaff, are become matters of speculation -and dispute among commentators. They -flourished in times full of spirit and lustihood, -when men enjoyed life roughly, but heartily and -vigorously,—times wild and picturesque, which -have furnished poetry with its richest materials, -and the drama with its most attractive variety of -characters and manners. The world has become -more worldly. There is more of dissipation -and less of enjoyment. Pleasure has expanded -into a broader but a shallower stream, and has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> -forsaken many of those deep and quiet channels -where it flowed sweetly through the calm bosom -of domestic life. Society has acquired a more -enlightened and elegant tone; but it has lost -many of its strong local peculiarities, its home-bred -feelings, its honest fireside delights. The -traditionary customs of golden-hearted antiquity, -its feudal hospitalities and lordly wassailings, have -passed away with the baronial castles and stately -manor-houses in which they were celebrated. -They comported with the shadowy hall, the great -oaken gallery, and the tapestried parlor, but are -unfitted to the light showy saloons and gay -drawing-rooms of the modern villa.</p> - -<p>Shorn, however, as it is, of its ancient and -festive honors, Christmas is still a period of delightful -excitement in England. It is gratifying -to see that home feeling completely aroused -which seems to hold so powerful a place in every -English bosom. The preparations making on -every side for the social board that is again to -unite friends and kindred; the presents of good -cheer passing and repassing, those tokens of regard -and quickeners of kind feelings; the evergreens -distributed about houses and churches, -emblems of peace and gladness,—all these -have the most pleasing effect in producing fond<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> -associations, and kindling benevolent sympathies. -Even the sound of the waits, rude as may be -their minstrelsy, breaks upon the mid-watches of -a winter night with the effect of perfect harmony. -As I have been awakened by them in -that still and solemn hour, "when deep sleep falleth -upon man," I have listened with a hushed -delight, and, connecting them with the sacred -and joyous occasion, have almost fancied them -into another celestial choir, announcing peace -and good-will to mankind.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Amidst the general call to happiness, the bustle -of the spirits, and stir of the affections, which -prevail at this period, what bosom can remain -insensible? It is, indeed, the season of regenerated -feeling,—the season for kindling, not -merely the fire of hospitality in the hall, but the -genial flame of charity in the heart.</p> - -<p>The scene of early love again rises green to -memory beyond the sterile waste of years; and -the idea of home, fraught with the fragrance of -home-dwelling joys, re-animates the drooping -spirit,—as the Arabian breeze will sometimes -waft the freshness of the distant fields to the -weary pilgrim of the desert.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He who can turn churlishly away from contemplating -the felicity of his fellow-beings, and -sit down darkling and repining in his loneliness -when all around is joyful, may have his moments -of strong excitement and selfish gratification, but -he wants the genial and social sympathies which -constitute the charm of a merry Christmas.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_018.jpg" width="400" height="552" alt="A scene of a host welcoming guests at his door" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - - - -<p class="right"><i>Dedication of Wordsworth's River Duddon Sonnets,<br /> -to his brother Dr. Wordsworth.</i></p> - -<h2>CHRISTMAS MINSTRELSY.</h2> - - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The minstrels played their Christmas tune<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To-night beneath my cottage eaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While smitten by a lofty moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That overpowered their natural green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through hill and valley every breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had sunk to rest with folded wings:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keen was the air, but could not freeze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor check the music of the strings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So stout and hardy were the band<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That scraped the chords with strenuous hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And who but listened?—till was paid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Respect to every inmate's claim:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The greeting given, the music played,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In honor of each household name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Duly pronounced with lusty call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a merry Christmas wished to all.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Brother! I revere the choice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That took thee from thy native hills;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it is given thee to rejoice:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though public care full often tills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Heaven only witness of the toil)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A barren and ungrateful soil.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet would that thou, with me and mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hadst heard this never-failing rite;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seen on other faces shine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A true revival of the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which Nature and these rustic powers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In simple childhood, spread through ours!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For pleasure hath not ceased to wait<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On these expected annual rounds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Call forth the unelaborate sounds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or they are offered at the door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That guards the lowliest of the poor.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How touching, when at midnight sweep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear—and sink again to sleep!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or at an earlier call, to mark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By blazing fire, the still suspense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of self-complacent innocence;<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The mutual nod,—the grave disguise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some unbidden tears that rise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For names once heard, and heard no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tears brightened by the serenade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For infant in the cradle laid!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! not for emerald fields alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With ambient streams more pure and bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than fabled Cytherea's zone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glittering before the Thunderer's sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is to my heart of hearts endeared<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ground where we were born and reared!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hail ancient manners! sure defence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where they survive, of wholesome laws;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remnants of love whose modest sense<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus into narrow room withdraws:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hail usages of pristine mould,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ye that guard them, mountains old!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bear with me, Brother! quench the thought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That slights this passion or condemns;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thee fond fancy ever brought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the proud margin of the Thames,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Lambeth's venerable towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To humbler streams and greener bowers.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes, they can make, who fail to find,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Short leisure even in busiest days;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moments to cast a look behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And profit by those kindly rays<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That through the clouds do sometimes steal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the far-off past reveal.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hence, while the imperial city's din<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beats frequent on thy satiate ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pleased attention I may win<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To agitations less severe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That neither overwhelm nor cloy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But fill the hollow vale with joy!<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> - -<p class="right"><i>By John Addington Symonds.</i></p> - -<h2>A CHRISTMAS LULLABY.</h2> - - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep, baby, sleep! the Mother sings:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven's angels kneel and fold their wings:<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Sleep, baby, sleep!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With swathes of scented hay thy bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Mary's hand at eve was spread.<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Sleep, baby, sleep!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At midnight came the shepherds, they<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom seraphs wakened by the way.<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Sleep, baby, sleep!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And three kings from the East afar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere dawn came guided by thy star.<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Sleep, baby, sleep!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They brought thee gifts of gold and gems,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pure orient pearls, rich diadems.<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Sleep, baby, sleep!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But thou who liest slumbering there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Art King of kings, earth, ocean, air.<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Sleep, baby, sleep!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep, baby, sleep! The shepherds sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through heaven, through earth, hosannas ring.<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Sleep, baby, sleep!<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="right"><i>By Hans Christian Andersen.</i></p> - - - -<h2>THE OLD OAK-TREE'S LAST DREAM.</h2> - - -<p>The Oak-tree stood stripped of all his foliage, -ready to go to rest for the whole winter, -and in it to dream many dreams,—to dream of -the past, just as men dream.</p> - -<p>The tree had once been a little one, and had -had a field for its cradle. Now, according to -human reckoning, he was in his fourth century. -He was the tallest and mightiest tree in the -woods; his crown towered high above all the -other trees, and was seen far out on the sea, -serving as a beacon to ships; but the old Oak-tree -had never thought how many eyes sought -him out from afar.</p> - -<p>High up in his green crown wood-doves had -built their nests, and the cuckoo perched to announce -spring; and in the autumn, when his -leaves looked like copper-plates hammered out -thin, birds of passage came and rested awhile<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> -among the boughs, before they flew across the -seas. But now it was winter; the tree stood -leafless, and the bowed and crooked branches -displayed their dark outlines; crows and jackdaws -came alternately, gossiping together about -the hard times that were beginning, and the -difficulty of getting food during the winter.</p> - -<p>It was just at the holy Christmas-tide that the -Oak-tree dreamt his most beautiful dream: this -dream we will hear.</p> - -<p>The tree had a foreboding that a festive season -was nigh; he seemed to hear the church-bells -ringing all round, and to feel as though it were a -mild, warm summer day. Fresh and green, he -reared his mighty crown on high; the sunbeams -played among his leaves and boughs; the air was -filled with fragrance; bright-colored butterflies -gambolled, and gnats danced,—which was all -they could do to show their joy. And all that -the tree had beheld during his life passed by as -in a festive procession. Knights and ladies, with -feathers in their caps, and hawks perching on -their wrists, rode gayly through the wood; dogs -barked, and the huntsman sounded his bugle. -Then came foreign soldiers in bright armor and -gay vestments, bearing spears and halberds, setting -up their tents, and presently taking them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> -down again; then watch-fires blazed up, and -bands of wild outlaws sang, revelled, and slept -under the tree's outstretched boughs, or happy -lovers met in the quiet moonlight, and carved -their initials on the grayish bark. At one time -a guitar, at another an Æolian harp, had been -hung up amid the old oak's boughs, by merry -travelling apprentices; now they hung there -again, and the wind played so sweetly with the -strings. The wood-doves cooed, as though they -would do their best to express the tree's happy -feelings, and the cuckoo talked about himself as -usual, proclaiming how many summer days he -had to live.</p> - -<p>And now it seemed a new and stronger current -of life flowed through him, down to his lowest -roots, up to his highest twigs, even to the very -leaves! The tree felt in his roots that a warm life -stirred in the earth,—felt his strength increase, and -that he was growing taller and taller. His trunk -shot up more and more; his crown grew fuller; -he spread, he towered; and still, as the tree grew, -he felt that his power grew with it, and that his -ardent longing to advance higher and higher up -to the bright warm sun increased also.</p> - -<p>Already had he towered above the clouds, -which drifted below him, now like a troop of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> -dark-plumaged birds of passage, now like flocks -of large white swans.</p> - -<p>And every leaf could see, as though it had -eyes; the stars became visible by daylight, so -large and bright, each one sparkling like a mild, -clear eye: they reminded him of dear kind eyes -that had sought each other under his shade,—lovers' -eyes, children's eyes.</p> - -<p>It was a blessed moment; and yet, in the -height of his joy, the Oak-tree felt a desire and -longing that all the other trees, bushes, herbs, -and flowers of the wood might be lifted up with -him, might share in this glory and gladness. -The mighty Oak-tree, amid his dream of splendor, -could not be fully blessed unless he might -have all, little and great, to share it with him; -and this feeling thrilled through boughs and -leaves as strongly, as fervently as though his -were the heart of a man.</p> - -<p>The tree's crown bowed itself, as though it -missed and sought something, looked backward. -Then he felt the fragrance of honeysuckles and -violets, and fancied he could hear the cuckoo -answering himself.</p> - -<p>Yes, so it was! for now peeped forth, through -the clouds, the green summits of the wood; the -other trees below had grown and lifted themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> -up likewise; bushes and herbs shot high into the -air, some tearing themselves loose from their -roots, and mounting all the faster. The birch -had grown most rapidly; like a flash of white -lightning, its slender stem shot upward, its -boughs waving like pale-green banners. Even -the feathery brown reed had pierced its way -through the clouds; and the birds followed, and -sang and sang; and on the grass that fluttered -to and fro like a long streaming green ribbon -perched the grasshopper, and drummed with -his wings on his lean body; the cockchafers -hummed, and the bees buzzed; every bird -sang with all his might, and all was music and -gladness.</p> - -<p>"But the little blue flower near the water,—I -want that too," said the Oak-tree; "and the -bell-flower, and the dear little daisy!" The tree -wanted all these.</p> - -<p>"We are here! we are here!" chanted sweet -low voices on all sides.</p> - -<p>"But the pretty anemones of last spring, and -the bed of lilies-of-the-valley that blossomed the -year before that! and the wild crab-apple tree! -and all the beautiful trees and flowers that have -adorned the wood through so many seasons—oh, -would that they had lived till now!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> - -<p>"We are here! we are here!" was the answer; -and this time it seemed to come from the -air above, as though they had fled upward first.</p> - -<p>"Oh, this is too great happiness,—it is almost -incredible!" exclaimed the Oak-tree. "I -have them all, small and great; not one of them -is forgotten! How can such blessedness be -possible?"</p> - -<p>"In the kingdom of God all things are possible," -was the answer.</p> - -<p>And the tree now felt that his roots were loosening -themselves from the earth. "This is best -of all," he said; "now no bonds shall detain me, -I can soar up to the height of light and glory; -and my dear ones are with me, small and great,—I -have them all!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Such was the old Oak-tree's dream; and all -the while, on that holy Christmas Eve, a mighty -storm swept over sea and land: the ocean rolled -its heavy billows on the shore; the tree cracked, -was rent and torn up by the roots, at the very -moment when he dreamt that his roots were disengaging -themselves from the earth. He fell. -His three hundred and sixty-five years were now -as a day is to the May-fly.</p> - -<p>On Christmas morning, when the sun burst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> -forth, the storm was laid. All the church-bells -were ringing joyously; and from every chimney, -even the poorest, the blue smoke curled upward, -as from the Druids' altar of old uprose the sacrificial -steam. The sea was calm again; and a large -vessel that had weathered the storm the night -before, now hoisted all its flags, in token of Yule -festivity. "The tree is gone,—the old Oak-tree, -our beacon," said the crew; "it has fallen -during last night's storm. How can its place -ever be supplied?"</p> - -<p>This was the tree's funeral eulogium, brief but -well-meant. There he lay, outstretched upon -the snowy carpet near the shore; whilst over it re-echoed -the hymn sung on shipboard,—the hymn -sung in thanksgiving for the joy of Christmas, for -the bliss of the human soul's salvation, through -Christ, and the gift of eternal life:—</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Sing loud, and raise your voices high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For your redemption draweth nigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lift up your heads, and have no fear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The promised kingdom, it is here!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, take the gift, in joy receive;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All things are his who will believe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O little flock, what words can tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bliss of souls Christ loved so well?<br /></span> -<span class="i14">Hallelujah! Hallelujah!"<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> - -<p>Thus resounded the old hymn; and every soul -lifted up heart and desire heavenward, even as -the old tree had lifted himself on his last, best -dream,—his Christmas Eve dream.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_032.jpg" width="400" height="356" alt="A scene of a park with trees and people strolling" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> - - - -<p class="right"><i>By Phœbe Cary.</i></p> - - -<h2>LITTLE GOTTLIEB.</h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Across the German Ocean,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a country far from our own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once, a poor little boy, named Gottlieb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lived with his mother alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They dwelt in a part of the village<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the houses were poor and small,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the house of little Gottlieb<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was the poorest one of all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was not large enough to work,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And his mother could no more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Though she scarcely laid her knitting down)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than keep the wolf from the door.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She had to take their threadbare clothes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And turn, and patch, and darn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For never any woman yet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grew rich by knitting yarn.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And oft at night beside her chair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would Gottlieb sit, and plan<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wonderful things he would do for her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When he grew to be a man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One night she sat and knitted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Gottlieb sat and dreamed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When a happy fancy all at once<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon his vision beamed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">'Twas only a week till Christmas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Gottlieb knew that then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Christ-child, who was born that day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sent down good gifts to men.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But he said, "He will never find us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our home is so mean and small;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we, who have most need of them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will get no gifts at all."<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When all at once a happy light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Came into his eyes so blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lighted up his face with smiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As he thought what he could do.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Next day, when the postman's letters<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Came from all over the land,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span><span class="i0">Came one for the Christ-child, written<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a child's poor, trembling hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You may think he was sorely puzzled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What in the world to do;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So he went to the Burgomaster,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the wisest man he knew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when they opened the letter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They stood almost dismayed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That such a little child should dare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To ask the Lord for aid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then the Burgomaster stammered,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And scarce knew what to speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hastily he brushed aside<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A drop, like a tear, from his cheek.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then up he spoke right gruffly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And turned himself about:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">"This must be a very foolish boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a small one, too, no doubt."<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when six rosy children<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That night about him pressed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor, trusting little Gottlieb<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stood near him, with the rest.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he heard his simple, touching prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through all their noisy play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though he tried his very best to put<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The thought of him away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A wise and learned man was he,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Men called him good and just;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But his wisdom seemed like foolishness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By that weak child's simple trust.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, when the morn of Christmas came,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the long, long week was done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor Gottlieb, who scarce could sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rose up before the sun,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And hastened to his mother;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But he scarce might speak for fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he saw her wondering look, and saw<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Burgomaster near.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He wasn't afraid of the Holy Babe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor his mother, meek and mild;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But he felt as if so great a man<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had never been a child.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Amazed the poor child looked, to find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hearth was piled with wood,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span><span class="i0">And the table, never full before,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was heaped with dainty food.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, half to hide from himself the truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Burgomaster said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the mother blessed him on her knees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Gottlieb shook for dread:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Nay, give no thanks, my good dame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To such as me for aid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be grateful to your little son,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the Lord, to whom he prayed!"<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then turning round to Gottlieb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">"Your written prayer, you see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came not to whom it was addressed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It only came to me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"'Twas but a foolish thing you did,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As you must understand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For though the gifts are yours, you know,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You have them from my hand."<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then Gottlieb answered fearlessly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where he humbly stood apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">"But the Christ-child sent them all the same;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He put the thought in your heart!"<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> - - - -<p class="right"><i>By Charles Dickens.</i></p> - - -<h2>TINY TIM'S CHRISTMAS DINNER.</h2> - - -<p>Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, -dressed out but poorly in a twice turned -gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap and -make a goodly show for sixpence; and she laid -the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of -her daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master -Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan -of potatoes, and getting the corners of his -monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's private property, -conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the -day) into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so -gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen -in the fashionable Parks. And now two smaller -Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming -that outside the baker's they had smelt -the goose, and known it for their own; and -basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onion, -these young Cratchits danced about the table, -and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> -while he (not proud, although his collars nearly -choked him) blew the fire, until the slow potatoes, -bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan -lid to be let out and peeled.</p> - -<p>"What has ever got your precious father -then?" said Mrs. Cratchit. "And your brother -Tiny Tim! And Martha warn't as late last -Christmas Day by half an hour!"</p> - -<p>"Here's Martha, mother!" said a girl, appearing -as she spoke.</p> - -<p>"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two -young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's <i>such</i> a -goose, Martha!"</p> - -<p>"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how -late you are!" said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a -dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet -for her with officious zeal.</p> - -<p>"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," -replied the girl, "and had to clear away this -morning, mother!"</p> - -<p>"Well! never mind so long as you are come," -said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye down before the fire, -my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"</p> - -<p>"No, no! there's father coming," cried the -two young Cratchits, who were everywhere at -once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"</p> - -<p>So Martha hid herself; and in came little Bob,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> -the father, with at least three feet of comforter -exclusive of the fringe hanging down before -him, and his threadbare clothes darned up and -brushed to look seasonable, and Tiny Tim upon -his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little -crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron -frame!</p> - -<p>"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob -Cratchit, looking round.</p> - -<p>"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.</p> - -<p>"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension -in his high spirits; for he had been -Tim's blood horse all the way from church, and -had come home rampant. "Not coming upon -Christmas Day!"</p> - -<p>Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, -if it were only a joke; so she came out prematurely -from behind the closet door, and ran into -his arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled -Tiny Tim, and bore him off into the wash-house, -that he might hear the pudding singing in the -copper.</p> - -<p>"And how did little Tim behave?" asked -Mrs. Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his -credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to -his heart's content.</p> - -<p>"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> -Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself -so much, and thinks the strangest things you -ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he -hoped the people saw him in the church, because -he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant -to them to remember upon Christmas Day who -made lame beggars walk and blind men see."</p> - -<p>Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them -this, and trembled more when he said that Tiny -Tim was growing strong and hearty.</p> - -<p>His active little crutch was heard upon the -floor, and back came Tiny Tim before another -word was spoken, escorted by his brother and -sister to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob, -turning up his cuffs,—as if, poor fellow, they -were capable of being made more shabby,—compounded -some hot mixture in a jug with gin -and lemons, and stirred it round and round and -put it on the hob to simmer, Master Peter and -the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch -the goose, with which they soon returned in high -procession.</p> - -<p>Such a bustle ensued that you might have -thought a goose the rarest of all birds,—a feathered -phenomenon, to which a black swan was a -matter of course; and in truth it was something -very like it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> -the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) -hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes -with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda sweetened -up the apple-sauce; Martha dusted the hot -plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny -corner at the table; the two young Cratchits set -chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, -and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed -spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek -for goose before their turn came to be helped. -At last the dishes were set on, and grace was -said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, -as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the -carving-knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; -but when she did, and when the long-expected -gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight -arose all round the board, and even Tiny -Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat -on the table with the handle of his knife, and -feebly cried Hurrah!</p> - -<p>There never was such a goose. Bob said he -didn't believe there ever was such a goose -cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, size and -cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. -Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed -potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole -family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> -delight (surveying one small atom of a bone -upon the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last! -Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest -Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage -and onion to the eyebrows! But now the plates -being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left -the room alone—too nervous to bear witnesses—to -take the pudding up, and bring it in.</p> - -<p>Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose -it should break in turning out! Suppose -somebody should have got over the wall of the -back yard, and stolen it, while they were merry -with the goose,—a supposition at which the -two young Cratchits became livid! All sorts of -horrors were supposed.</p> - -<p>Hallo! A great deal of steam! The pudding -was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day! -That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house -and a pastry-cook's next door to each -other, with a laundress's next door to that! -That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. -Cratchit entered—flushed, but smiling proudly—with -the pudding, like a speckled cannon-ball, -so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern -of ignited brandy, and bedight with -Christmas holly stuck into the top.</p> - -<p>Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> -and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest -success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their -marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the weight -was off her mind, she would confess she had her -doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody -had something to say about it, but nobody said -or thought it was at all a small pudding for a -large family. It would have been flat heresy to -do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint -at such a thing.</p> - -<p>At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was -cleared, the hearth swept, and the fire made up. -The compound in the jug being tasted, and considered -perfect, apples and oranges were put -upon the table, and a shovelful of chestnuts on -the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew -round the hearth, in what Bob Cratchit called a -circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit's -elbow stood the family display of glass,—two -tumblers and a custard-cup without a handle.</p> - -<p>These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, -as well as golden goblets would have done; -and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while -the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked -noisily. Then Bob proposed:—</p> - -<p>"A merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God -bless us."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> - -<p>Which all the family re-echoed.</p> - -<p>"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, -the last of all.</p> - -<p>He sat very close to his father's side, upon his -little stool. Bob held his withered little hand in -his, as if he loved the child, and wished to keep -him by his side, and dreaded that he might be -taken from him.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Scrooge!" said Bob; "I'll give you, -Mr. Scrooge, the Founder of the Feast!"</p> - -<p>"The Founder of the Feast indeed!" cried -Mrs. Cratchit, reddening. "I wished I had him -here. I'd give him a piece of my mind to feast -upon, and I hope he'd have a good appetite -for it."</p> - -<p>"My dear," said Bob, "the children! Christmas -Day!"</p> - -<p>"It should be Christmas Day, I am sure," -said she, "on which one drinks the health of -such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as -Mr. Scrooge. You know he is, Robert! Nobody -knows it better than you do, poor fellow!"</p> - -<p>"My dear," was Bob's mild answer, "Christmas -Day!"</p> - -<p>"I'll drink his health for your sake and the -Day's," said Mrs. Cratchit, "not for his. Long -life to him! A merry Christmas and a happy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> -new year! He'll be very merry and very happy, -I have no doubt!"</p> - -<p>The children drank the toast after her. It -was the first of their proceedings which had no -heartiness in it! Tiny Tim drank it last of all, -but he didn't care twopence for it. Scrooge was -the Ogre of the family. The mention of his -name cast a dark shadow on the party, which -was not dispelled for full five minutes.</p> - -<p>After it had passed away, they were ten times -merrier than before, from the mere relief of -Scrooge the Baleful being done with. Bob -Cratchit told them how he had a situation in -his eye for Master Peter, which would bring in, -if obtained, full five-and-sixpence weekly. The -two young Cratchits laughed tremendously at the -idea of Peter's being a man of business; and -Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from -between his collars, as if he were deliberating -what particular investments he should favor when -he came into the receipt of that bewildering income. -Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a -milliner's, then told them what kind of work she -had to do, and how many hours she worked at -a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed to-morrow -morning for a good long rest; to-morrow -being a holiday she passed at home. Also how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> -she had seen a countess and a lord some days -before, and how the lord "was much about as -tall as Peter," at which Peter pulled up his collars -so high that you couldn't have seen his -head if you had been there. All this time the -chestnuts and the jug went round and round; -and by and by they had a song, about a lost -child travelling in the snow, from Tiny Tim, who -had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very well -indeed.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_047.jpg" width="400" height="370" alt="A scene of a village street with people wearing winter - clothings" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> - - - -<p class="right"><i>By Hans Christian Andersen.</i></p> - - -<h2>CHRISTMAS CAROL.</h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Child Jesus comes from heavenly height,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To save us from sin's keeping:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On manger straw, in darksome night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Blessed One lies sleeping.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The star smiles down, the angels greet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The oxen kiss the Baby's feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Hallelujah, hallelujah,<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Child Jesus.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Take courage, soul, in grief cast down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forget the bitter dealing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Child is born in David's town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To touch all souls with healing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then let us go and seek the Child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Children like him, meek, undefiled.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Hallelujah, hallelujah,<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Child Jesus.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="right"><i>Anonymous.</i></p> - -<h2>LAST NIGHT, AS I LAY SLEEPING.</h2> - - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Last night, as I lay sleeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When all my prayers were said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With my guardian angel keeping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His watch above my head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard his sweet voice carolling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full softly on my ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A song for Christian boys to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For Christian men to hear:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Thy body be at rest, dear boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy soul be free from sin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I'll shield thee from the world's annoy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And breathe pure words within.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The holy Christmas-tide is nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The season of Christ's birth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glory be to God on high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And peace to men on earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Myself and all the heavenly host<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were keeping watch of old,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span><span class="i0">And saw the shepherds at their posts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the sheep in fold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then told we, with a joyful cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tidings of Christ's birth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glory be to God on high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And peace to men on earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"He bowed to all his Father's will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And meek he was and lowly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And year by year his thoughts were still<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Most innocent and holy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He did not come to strive or cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But ever, from his birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gave glory unto God on high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And peace to men on earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Like him be true, like him be pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like him be full of love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seek not thine own, and so secure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thine own that is above.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still, as Christmas-tide draws nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing thou of Jesus' birth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glory be to God on high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And peace to men on earth."<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> - - - -<p class="right"><i>By Charles Dickens.</i></p> - - -<h2>CHRISTMAS DAY IN LONDON.</h2> - - -<p>The poulterers' shops were still half open, and -the fruiterers' shops were radiant in their -glory. There were great round, pot-bellied baskets -of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly -old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling -out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. -There were ruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed -Spanish onions, shining in the fatness of their -growth like Spanish Friars, and winking from -their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as -they went by and glanced demurely at the -hung up mistletoe. There were pears and apples, -clustered high in blooming pyramids; there -were bunches of grapes, made, in the shop-keepers' -benevolence, to dangle from conspicuous -hooks that people's mouths might water -gratis as they passed; there were piles of filberts, -mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, -ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> -shufflings ankle-deep through withered leaves; -there were Norfolk Biffins, squab and swarthy, -setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons, -and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, -urgently entreating and beseeching to be -carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner. -The very gold and silver fish, set forth -among these choice fruits in a bowl, though -members of a dull and stagnant-blooded race, -appeared to know that there was something going -on; and, to a fish, went gasping round and -round their little world in slow and passionless -excitement.</p> - -<p>The Grocers'! oh, the Grocers'! nearly closed, -with perhaps two shutters down, or one; but -through those gaps such glimpses! It was not -alone that the scales descending on the counter -made a merry sound, or that the twine and roller -parted company so briskly, or that the canisters -were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or -even that the blended scents of tea and coffee -were so grateful to the nose, or even that the -raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so -extremely white, the sticks of cinnamon so long -and straight, the other spices so delicious, the -candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten -sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> -and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that the -figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French -plums blushed in modest tartness from their -highly decorated boxes, or that everything was -good to eat and in its Christmas dress; but the -customers were all so hurried and so eager in the -hopeful promise of the day, that they tumbled -up against each other at the door, crashing their -wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases -upon the counter, and came running back to -fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like -mistakes, in the best humor possible; while the -Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh -that the polished hearts with which they fastened -their aprons behind might have been their own, -worn outside for general inspection, and for -Christmas daws to peck at if they chose.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_054.jpg" width="400" height="800" alt="" title="IN THE CHURCH." /> -<span class="caption">IN THE CHURCH.</span> -</div> - -<p>But soon the steeples called good people all -to church and chapel; and away they came, -flocking through the streets in their best clothes -and with their gayest faces. And at the same -time there emerged from scores of by-streets, -lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people, -carrying their dinners to the bakers' shops. -The sight of these poor revellers appeared to -interest the Spirit very much; for he stood with -Scrooge beside him in a baker's doorway, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> -taking off the covers as their bearers passed, -sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. -And it was a very uncommon kind of torch; for -once or twice when there were angry words between -some dinner-carriers who had jostled each -other, he shed a few drops of water on them -from it, and their good humor was restored directly. -For they said, it was a shame to quarrel -upon Christmas Day. And so it was! God love -it, so it was!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> - - - -<p class="right"><i>By Charles Mackay.</i></p> - - -<h2>UNDER THE HOLLY-BOUGH.</h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye who have scorned each other,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or injured friend or brother,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In this fast-fading year;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye who, by word or deed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have made a kind heart bleed,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come gather here.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let sinned against and sinning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget their strife's beginning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And join in friendship now;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be links no longer broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be sweet forgiveness spoken<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the holly-bough.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye who have loved each other,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sister and friend and brother,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In this fast-fading year;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mother and sire and child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young man and maiden mild,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come gather here;<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span><span class="i0">And let your hearts grow fonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As memory shall ponder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each past unbroken vow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old loves and younger wooing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are sweet in the renewing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the holly-bough.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye who have nourished sadness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Estranged from hope and gladness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In this fast-fading year;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye with o'erburdened mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made aliens from your kind,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come gather here.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let not the useless sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pursue you night and morrow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If e'er you hoped, hope now,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take heart, uncloud your faces,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And join in our embraces<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the holly-bough.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> - - - -<p class="right"><i>By Hans Christian Andersen.</i></p> - - -<h2>THE LITTLE MATCH-GIRL.</h2> - - -<p>It was terribly cold; it snowed and was already -almost dark, and evening came on,—the -last evening of the year. In the cold and -gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, -was walking through the streets. When -she left her own house she certainly had had -slippers on; but of what use were they? They -were very big slippers, and her mother had used -them till then, so big were they. The little maid -lost them as she slipped across the road, where -two carriages were rattling by terribly fast. One -slipper was not to be found again; and a boy had -seized the other, and run away with it. He -thought he could use it very well as a cradle, -some day when he had children of his own. So -now the little girl went with her little naked feet, -which were quite red and blue with the cold. In -an old apron she carried a number of matches -and a bundle of them in her hand. No one had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> -bought anything of her all day, and no one had -given her a farthing.</p> - -<p>Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept -along, a picture of misery, poor little girl! The -snowflakes covered her long fair hair, which -fell in pretty curls over her neck; but she did -not think of that now. In all the windows lights -were shining, and there was a glorious smell of -roast goose, for it was New Year's Eve. Yes, -she thought of that!</p> - -<p>In a corner formed by two houses, one of -which projected beyond the other, she sat down, -cowering. She had drawn up her little feet, but she -was still colder, and she did not dare to go home, -for she had sold no matches, and did not bring a -farthing of money. From her father she would -certainly receive a beating; and, besides, it was -cold at home, for they had nothing over them but -a roof through which the wind whistled, though -the largest rents had been stopped with straw -and rags.</p> - -<p>Her little hands were almost benumbed with -the cold. Ah! a match might do her good, if -she could only draw one from the bundle, and -rub it against the wall, and warm her hands at it. -She drew one out. R-r-atch! how it sputtered -and burned! It was a warm bright flame, like a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> -little candle, when she held her hands over it; it -was a wonderful little light! It really seemed to -the little girl as if she sat before a great polished -stove, with bright brass feet and a brass cover. -How the fire burned! how comfortable it was! -but the little flame went out, the stove vanished, -and she had only the remains of the burned -match in her hand.</p> - -<p>A second was rubbed against the wall. It -burned up; and when the light fell upon the wall -it became transparent like a thin veil, and she -could see through it into the room. On the -table a snow-white cloth was spread; upon it -stood a shining dinner service; the roast goose -smoked gloriously, stuffed with apples and dried -plums. And what was still more splendid to behold, -the goose hopped down from the dish, and -waddled along the floor, with a knife and fork in -its breast, to the little girl. Then the match -went out, and only the thick, damp, cold wall -was before her. She lighted another match. -Then she was sitting under a beautiful Christmas -tree; it was greater and more ornamented than -the one she had seen through the glass door -at the rich merchant's. Thousands of candles -burned upon the green branches, and colored -pictures like those in the print shops looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> -down upon them. The little girl stretched forth -her hand toward them; then the match went -out. The Christmas lights mounted higher. -She saw them now as stars in the sky: one of -them fell down, forming a long line of fire.</p> - -<p>"Now some one is dying," thought the little -girl; for her old grandmother, the only person -who had loved her, and who was now dead, had -told her that when a star fell down a soul -mounted up to God.</p> - -<p>She rubbed another match against the wall; it -became bright again, and in the brightness the -old grandmother stood clear and shining, mild -and lovely.</p> - -<p>"Grandmother!" cried the child, "oh, take -me with you! I know you will go when the -match is burned out. You will vanish like the -warm fire, the warm food, and the great, glorious -Christmas tree!"</p> - -<p>And she hastily rubbed the whole bundle of -matches, for she wished to hold her grandmother -fast. And the matches burned with such a glow -that it became brighter than in the middle of the -day; grandmother had never been so large or so -beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, -and both flew in brightness and joy above the -earth, very, very high; and up there was neither<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> -cold nor hunger nor care,—they were with -God.</p> - -<p>But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat -the poor girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, -frozen to death on the last evening of the Old -Year. The New Year's sun rose upon a little -corpse! The child sat there, stiff and cold, with -the matches, of which one bundle was burned. -"She wanted to warm herself," the people said. -No one imagined what a beautiful thing she had -seen, and in what glory she had gone in with her -grandmother to the New Year's Day.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> - - - -<p class="right"><i>From George Wither's "Hallelujah."</i></p> - - -<h2>A ROCKING HYMN.</h2> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet baby, sleep; what ails my dear?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What ails my darling thus to cry?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be still, my child, and lend thine ear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hear me sing thy lullaby.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>My pretty lamb, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What thing to thee can mischief do?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy God is now thy Father dear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His holy Spouse thy Mother too.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /><br /> - -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whilst thus thy lullaby I sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For thee great blessings ripening be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine eldest brother is a king,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hath a kingdom bought for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet baby, sleep, and nothing fear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For whosoever thee offends,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By thy protector threatened are,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And God and angels are thy friends.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When God with us was dwelling here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In little babes he took delight:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such innocents as thou, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are ever precious in his sight.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A little infant once was he,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Strength-in-Weakness then was laid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon his Virgin-Mother's knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That power to thee might be conveyed.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In this thy frailty and thy need<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He friends and helpers doth prepare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which thee shall cherish, clothe, and feed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For of thy weal they tender are.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The King of kings, when he was born,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had not so much for outward ease;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By him such dressings were not worn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor such-like swaddling-clothes as these.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Within a manger lodged thy Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where oxen lay and asses fed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warm rooms we do to thee afford,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An easy cradle or a bed.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wants that he did then sustain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have purchased wealth, my babe, for thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by his torments and his pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy rest and ease securèd be.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>My baby, then, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou hast (yet more), to perfect this,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A promise and an earnest got<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of gaining everlasting bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though thou, my babe, perceiv'st it not.<br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.</i><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> - - - -<p class="right"><i>By Alfred, Lord Tennyson.</i><br /> -<small>(Cantos XXVIII., XXIX., XXX.)</small></p> - -<h2>IN MEMORIAM.</h2> - - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The time draws near the birth of Christ:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moon is hid; the night is still;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Christmas bells from hill to hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Answer each other in the mist.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Four voices of four hamlets round,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From far and near, on mead and moor,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swell out and fail, as if a door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were shut between me and the sound:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each voice four changes on the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That now dilate, and now decrease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Peace and good will, good will and peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peace and good will, to all mankind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This year I slept and woke with pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I almost wished no more to wake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And that my hold on life would break<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before I heard those bells again:<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But they my troubled spirit rule,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For they controlled me when a boy;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They bring me sorrow touched with joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The merry, merry bells of Yule.<br /></span> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /><br /> - -<div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With such compelling cause to grieve<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As daily vexes household peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And chains regret to his decease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How dare we keep our Christmas Eve;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Which brings no more a welcome guest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To enrich the threshold of the night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With showered largess of delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In dance and song and game and jest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet go, and while the holly-boughs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Entwine the cold baptismal font,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Make one wreath more for Use and Wont,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That guard the portals of the house;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Old sisters of a day gone by,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gray nurses, loving nothing new;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why should they miss their yearly due<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before their time? They too will die.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With trembling fingers did we weave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The holly round the Christmas hearth;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A rainy cloud possessed the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sadly fell our Christmas Eve.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At our old pastimes in the hall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We gambolled, making vain pretence<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of gladness, with an awful sense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of one mute Shadow watching all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We paused: the winds were in the beech:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We heard them sweep the winter land;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in a circle hand-in-hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sat silent, looking each at each.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then echo-like our voices rang;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We sung, though every eye was dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A merry song we sang with him<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Last year: impetuously we sang:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We ceased: a gentler feeling crept<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon us: surely rest is meet:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">"They rest," we said, "their sleep is sweet,"<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And silence followed, and we wept.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our voices took a higher range;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once more we sang: "They do not die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor lose their mortal sympathy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor change to us, although they change:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">"Rapt from the fickle and the frail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With gathered power, yet the same,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pierces the keen seraphic flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From orb to orb, from veil to veil."<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rise, happy morn, rise, holy morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Draw forth the cheerful day from night:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Father, touch the east, and light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light that shone when Hope was born.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i_070.jpg" width="400" height="329" alt="A scene of a village church" /> -</div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="transnote"> -<h2>Transcriber's Notes:</h2> - -<p>Obvious printer's errors have been repaired, other inconsistent -spellings have been kept, including inconsistent use of hyphen (e.g. -"good will" and "good-will").</p> -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Under The Holly, by Henry Fitz Randolph - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THE HOLLY *** - -***** This file should be named 51719-h.htm or 51719-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/1/51719/ - -Produced by Judith Wirawan and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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