humming as they went the stirring strains of an ancient
Christmas march known to all nations; a carol which began, some say, as a
rousing drinking chorus.

The familiar strain touched some chord in the sodden brain. The man gave a
feeble whinny, trying to follow the melody. He pulled himself together and
lurched forward in a sudden impulse to join the band of pilgrims. But by
the time he had taken three steps they had vanished, miraculously, as it
seemed to him.

"Begorra, they're gone!" he cried. "Who were they? Were they rale folks?
What was it they was singin'?"

He sank back helplessly on a flight of steps. "_Ve-ni-te a-do-re-mus!_" he
croaked in a quavering basso. And his tangled mind went through strange
processes. Suddenly, there came to him in a flash of exaggerated memory the
figure of the Christmas Angel which not ten minutes earlier he had kicked
into the street. A pious horror fell upon him.

"Mither o' mercy!" he cried, again crossing himself. "What have I been an'
done? It was a howly image; an' what did I do to ut? Lemme go back an' find
ut, an' take ut up out av the street."

Greatly sobered by his fear, he staggered down the block and around the
corner to the steps of Miss Terry's house.

"This is the place," he mused. "I know ut; here's where the frindly
lam'post hild me in its arrums. I rimimber there was a dark house forninst
me. Here's where ut lay on the sidewalk, all pink an' pretty. An' I kicked
ut into the street! Where is ut now? Where gone? Howly Mither! Here's the
spot where ut fell, look now! The shape of uts little body and the wings of
ut in the snow. But 'tis gone intirely!" He rubbed his eyes and crossed
himself again. "'Tis flown away," he muttered. "'Tis gone back to Hiven to
tell Mary Mither o' the wicked thing I done this night. Oh, 'tis a miracle
that's happened! An' oh! The wicked man I am, drunk and disorderly on the
Howly Eve!"

"O come, all ye faithful,
Joyful and triumphant!"

Once more he heard the familiar strain taken up lustily by many voices.

"Hear all the world singin' on the way to Bethlehem!" he said, and the
stupor seemed to leave his brain. He no longer staggered.

"I'll run an' join 'em, an' I won't drink another drop this night." He
looked up at the starry sky. "Maybe the Angel hears me. Maybe he'll help
me to keep straight to-morrow. It might be my Guardian Angel himsilf that I
treated so! Saints forgive me!"

With head bowed humbly, but no