Christmas was indeed a day with the whole family of Martin Barton. First, there was the great long counter, covered with squares of table-cloths, before each clerk’s stand; and then, there was the hall table, for the servants; and, lastly, there was the parlour, next door—literally full of presents for the children, Mrs. Martin Barton’s two twins; and there were the little baskets for the poor customers—I suspect they did not pay much for needle and thread. Jenny Hart had arranged every thing herself; and there she stood in the shop, at sunrise, having given them all an early breakfast. With a little white wand in her hand, she pointed to a table that stood out from the corner, and said— “Hosea Bringle—our oldest and our best clerk—lift up the table cover; Martin Barton hopes you will be pleased with what is under.” Old Hosea, who had not been in the shop for a long time, lifted up the cover—“Oh, Jenny Hart, how kind; how excellent all these things are; and I was wishing for this box of tools, and all this fine wire; (just as if Jenny Hart did not know his wants) and here is fine perfumed soap, and every thing an old man wants; and, ah ha, Miss Jenny Hart, you have found out I have a sweet tooth, have you? (Jenny Hart had furnished him with confectionary for twelve years,) and what’s this?—a suit of clothes? oh, Miss Jenny Hart—and the old man wrung her hand, with his eyes swimming; while she, the good little maiden, laughed till she cried. “Ira Elkado—lift up that cover,” said she, touching it with her wand. “What can it be?” thought he; “it lies flat; I think she means to play me a trick. I shall not touch it. Nothing can lie under that flat cover;” so he said, “Never mind me, Jenny Hart; pass on to Mr. Archy Campbell.” “Well, then,” said Jenny Hart, laughing, “Archy Campbell, lift up your parcel;” and Archy Campbell lifted up the cover; but there was nothing but a bunch of rods and a little note. He slipped the note into his pocket, without looking at it, reddening up to the very temples. He likewise took up the bunch of rods, and gallantly kissed it, which made Jenny Hart blush in return. “Devil take the impudent rascal,” said Ira Elkado. “You come next, Alfred Gray;” and Alfred Gray lifted up the cover, where lay chess men and drawing materials, and perfumery, and books, and keepsakes in plenty. A little note lay there, too; but he left all and went near the door to read it. “Keep the contents to yourself,” whispered Jenny Hart. Jasper Merry’s parcel was similar to his friend’s; and the little note caused them both to smile. Peter Squires came last; and there lay a nice new suit of clothes for him, and a variety of very useful and pretty articles likewise; such as a poor young man would like to have, and could not afford to buy.