ived and whence I fled, fled because of my misdeeds, years ago, I
have another name, a name of power and wealth and honor for more than
two centuries. There I have a home, and in that home to-night sits my
aged father and white-haired mother. I am going back to them clothed
and in my right mind. Think of it, Old Trapper, going back to my home,
my boyhood's home, to my father and my mother. All day as I tramped on
the trail toward your cabin, my mind has been filled with memories of
the past, and the words of a sweet old song I used to sing when too
young to feel the tenderness of it, have been ringing in my ears."

"Sing us the song, sing us the song!" cried Wild Bill, and every man
at the table cried with him, "Sing us the song!"

"Aye, aye," assented the Trapper, "sing us the song, Shanty Jim; we be
men of the woods at this table, and some of us have had losses and
sorrers, and all of us have memories of happy days that be gone. Stand
here by my side and sing us the song that has been ringin' in yer ears
all day. This is a table of feastin', and feastin' means more than
eatin'. Sing us the song that tells ye of the past, of yer boyhood's
days and father and mother."

Oh, the secrets of the woods! How many have fled to them for
concealment and refuge! In them piety has built its retreat, learning
has sought retirement, broken pride a mask, and misfortune a haven.
And in response to the Trapper's invitation there had come to his
cabin and were now grouped about his table more of ability, more of
knowledge, more of struggle and failure, and more of reminiscence than
might be found, perhaps, in the same number of guests at any other
table on that Christmas day in the world.

Never did singer sing sweeter or more touching song, or to more
receptive company.

"Backward, turn backward, oh, Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night.
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart, as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair,
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;--
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.

CHORUS:--"Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;--
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.

"Over my heart, in the days that are flown,