ould ever dare to murder
a stork. A similar protection is extended to nightingales. The consequense
is, that, being unmolested, the "solemn bird of night" becomes very tame.
In the suburbs of Hamburg are numerous villas, and there, in a friend's
garden, I have passed and repassed under the bough where, within the reach
of my arm, a nightingale was singing. He not only showed no fear, but,
being of a vain character, as nightingales naturally are, he strained his
little throat the more that he saw I listened to him.

But to return to the pastor's house. In the corner of the hall of which I
have spoken, was the "Christmas Tree." Some of those who read these
sketches may have seen an engraving of Luther on a Christmas evening, his
wife and children beside him. The tree represented in that engraving was
the exact prototype of the one I now saw. It was of a species of fir, and
on all its branches were fixed small wax-tapers. These, at the given hour,
were lighted. Immediately, a procession of the village-school children
entered, and placed themselves in order. Then the pastor appeared, and
after a short prayer gave out a psalm. He conducted the music himself,
and, as he had for some time been teaching the young people a little
singing, it was much better than usual, more especially as there were no
braying men to spoil it. The air was that brave old composition of the
great reformer, _Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott_ ("A strong tower is our
God"). Nothing nobler in psalmody exists.

After another short prayer, and a few words by way of speech, sundry
rewards and prizes were distributed. The greater part of these were the
handiwork of the pastor's family. I refer, of course, to the useful
articles of dress and other things, which domestic female hands know how
to sew, and knit, and embroider. Many tracts were distributed. A blessing
was pronounced, and the children withdrew.

It was now our turn. The family assembled in the saloon--a fine apartment,
about thirty feet in length. A long table, covered with a white cloth,
extended down the centre. At this every one had his place--I among the
rest. But it was not for a repast. Each had previously entered and
deposited his or her Christmas boxes at the part of the table assigned to
those to whom they were offered. We all had thus a little heap. As the
greatest secresy is preserved up to the moment of the general entry, we
had all the pleasure of a surprise. The curiosity of the chil