only a wink or two afterward, it seemed,
that there were callings back and forth from small beds and a general
demand for investigation. A hurried semi-dressing, a fire blazing up the
chimney, a door thrown open upon a sparkling, spangled tree. Eager
exclamations, moments of awed silence, after which the thrilling
distribution of gifts. Human life holds few things better or happier
than such a Christmas morning. Whatever else the Christ-child brought to
the world, that alone would make his coming a boon to mankind.

On our wall hung a quaint framed print of the first Christmas family,
and under it some verses by the now all-but-forgotten poet, Edwin Waugh.
In those days it was our custom, when the distribution was over and the
morning light filled the room, to gather in front of the picture and
sing the verses to a simple tune of our own. It was a poor little
ceremony, but, remembering it now, I am glad that we thought it worth
while. The verses are certainly so, and I want to preserve them
here--they are so little known.

CHRISTMAS CAROL

BY EDWIN WAUGH

Long time ago in Palestine,
Upon a wintry morn,
All in a lowly cattle-shed
The Prince of Peace was born.

The clouds fled from the gloomy sky,
The winds in silence lay,
And the stars shone bright with strange delight
To welcome in that day.

His parents they were simple folk
And simple lives they led,
And in the ways of righteousness
This little child was bred.

In gentle thought and gentle deed
His early days went by,
And the light His youthful steps did lead
Came down from heaven on high.

He was the friend of all the poor
That wander here below;
It was His only joy on earth
To ease them of their woe.

In pain He trod His holy path,
By sorrow sorely tried;
It was for all mankind He lived,
And for mankind He died.

Like Him let us be just and pure,
Like Him be true alway,
That we may find the peace of mind
That never fades away.

II

_Westbury dropped in_

So came the deeps of winter--January in New England. With the Pride and
the Hope back at school, Elizabeth and I, with the Joy, shut away from
most of the sounds and strivings of men, looked out on the heaping
drifts and gathered about blazing logs, piled sometimes almost to the
chimney throat.

It was our refreshment and exercise to bring in the logs. We were told
that in a former day they had been