en we
dashed away far enough to gather quite another crowd; and then back,
perhaps, not sorry to double on our steps if need were, and leaving
every crowd with a happy thought of

"The star, the manger, and the Child!"

At nine we brought up at my house, D Street, three doors from the
corner, and the children picked their very best for Polly and my six
little girls to hear, and then for the first time we let them jump out
and run in. Polly had some hot oysters for them, so that the frolic was
crowned with a treat. There was a Christmas cake cut into sixteen
pieces, which they took home to dream upon; and then hoods and muffs on
again, and by ten o'clock, or a little after, we had all the girls and
all the little ones at their homes. Four of the big boys, our two
flankers and Harry's right and left hand men, begged that they might
stay till the last moment. They could walk back from the stable, and
"rather walk than not, indeed." To which we assented, having gained
parental permission, as we left younger sisters in their respective
homes.

II.

Lycidas and I both thought, as we went into these modest houses, to
leave the children, to say they had been good and to wish a "Merry
Christmas" ourselves to fathers, mothers, and to guardian aunts, that
the welcome of those homes was perhaps the best part of it all. Here
was the great stout sailor-boy whom we had not seen since he came back
from sea. He was a mere child when he left our school years on years
ago, for the East, on board Perry's vessel, and had been round the
world. Here was brave Mrs. Masury. I had not seen her since her mother
died. "Indeed, Mr. Ingham, I got so used to watching then, that I cannot
sleep well yet o' nights; I wish you knew some poor creature that wanted
me to-night, if it were only in memory of Bethlehem." "You take a deal
of trouble for the children," said Campbell, as he crushed my hand in
his; "but you know they love you, and you know I would do as much for
you and yours,"--which I knew was true. "What can I send to your
children?" said Dalton, who was finishing sword-blades. (Ill wind was
Fort Sumter, but it blew good to poor Dalton, whom it set up in the
world with his sword-factory.) "Here's an old-fashioned tape-measure for
the girl, and a Sheffield wimble for the boy. What, there is no boy? Let
one of the girls have it then; it will count one more present for her."
And so he pressed his brown-paper parcel into my hand. From ev