, and become
usurious? Above all, do we really know, now, that we should probably have
been miserable if we had won and worn the pearl, and that we are better
without her?

That Christmas when we had recently achieved so much fame; when we had
been carried in triumph somewhere, for doing something great and good;
when we had won an honored and ennobled name, and arrived and were
received at home in a shower of tears of joy; is it possible that _that_
Christmas has not come yet?

And is our life here, at the best, so constituted that, pausing as we
advance at such a noticeable mile-stone in the track as this great
birthday, we look back on the things that never were, as naturally and
full as gravely as on the things that have been and are gone, or have been
and still are? If it be so, and so it seems to be, must we come to the
conclusion, that life is little better than a dream, and little worth the
loves and strivings that we crowd into it?

No! Far be such miscalled philosophy from us, dear Reader, on
Christmas-day! Nearer and closer to our hearts be the Christmas spirit,
which is the spirit of active usefulness, perseverance, cheerful discharge
of duty, kindness, and forbearance! It is in the last virtues especially,
that we are, or should be, strengthened by the unaccomplished visions of
our youth; for who shall say that they are not our teachers to deal gently
even with the impalpable nothings of the earth!

Therefore, as we grow older, let us be more thankful that the circle of
our Christmas associations and of the lessons that they bring, expands!
Let us welcome every one of them, and summon them to take their places by
the Christmas hearth.

Welcome, old aspirations, glittering creatures of an ardent fancy, to your
shelter underneath the holly! We know you, and have not outlived you yet.
Welcome, old projects and old loves, however fleeting, to your nooks among
the steadier lights that burn around us. Welcome, all that was ever real
to our hearts; and for the earnestness that made you real, thanks to
Heaven! Do we build no Christmas castles in the clouds now? Let our
thoughts, fluttering like butterflies among these flowers of children,
bear witness! Before this boy, there stretches out a Future, brighter than
we ever looked on in our old romantic time, but bright with honor and with
truth. Around this little head on which the sunny curls lie heaped, the
graces sport, as prettily, as airily, as when there wa