in the grass which the lambs had left
uncropped.

"A shepherd lay upon a broad stone on the hill-side; above him spread
an olive-tree, old, ragged, and gloomy; but now it swayed its rusty
branches majestically in the shifting air of night. The shepherd's
name was Benoni. Wearied with long watching, he had fallen asleep; his
crook had slipped from his hand. Upon the hill-side, too, slept the
shepherd's flock. I had counted them again and again; I had stolen
across their gentle faces and brought them pleasant dreams of green
pastures and of cool water-brooks. I had kissed old Benoni, too, as he
lay slumbering there; and in his dreams he seemed to see Israel's King
come upon earth, and in his dreams he murmured the promised Messiah's
name.

"'Ah, is it you, little moonbeam?' quoth the violets. 'You have come
in good time. Nestle here with us, and see wonderful things come to
pass.'

"'What are these wonderful things of which you speak?' I asked.

"'We heard the old olive-tree telling of them to-night,' said the
violets. 'Do not go to sleep, little violets,' said the old
olive-tree, 'for this is Christmas night, and the Master shall walk
upon the hill-side in the glory of the midnight hour.' So we waited
and watched; one by one the lambs fell asleep; one by one the stars
peeped out; the shepherd nodded and crooned, and crooned and nodded,
and at last he, too, went fast asleep, and his crook slipped from his
keeping. Then we called to the old olive-tree yonder, asking how soon
the midnight hour would come; but all the old olive-tree answered was
'Presently, presently,' and finally we, too, fell asleep, wearied by
our long watching, and lulled by the rocking and swaying of the old
olive-tree in the breezes of the night.

"'But who is this Master?' I asked.

"'A child, a little child,' they answered. 'He is called the little
Master by the others. He comes here often, and plays among the flowers
of the hill-side. Sometimes the lambs, gambolling too carelessly, have
crushed and bruised us so that we lie bleeding and are like to die;
but the little Master heals our wounds and refreshes us once again.'

"I marvelled much to hear these things. 'The midnight hour is at
hand,' said I, 'and I will abide with you to see this little Master of
whom you speak.' So we nestled among the verdure of the hill-side, and
sang songs one to another.

"'Come away!' called the night wind; 'I know a beauteous sea not far
hence, upon whose