One cannot very well manufacture gifts himself, and therefore some one else must make them. One cannot carry gifts himself,—at least not all of them,—and therefore some one else must carry them. As Christmas was just a day and as it came only once a year, all the days preceding Christmas became frenzied and feverish, and men and women by the thousands were compelled to work so fast and through such long hours that they were not able to reach the palace at all. They had their faces in the direction of it, but they were all so jaded and out of breath that when the palace came in sight they had not energy sufficient to enjoy the beauty of it, and could only look on half dazed and benumbed at the more fortunate mortals who had been able to get inside of its golden doors. Letter-carriers, knowing by experience what Christmas really was, began to lament long before the month of December came, seeing in their imagination the huge bundles of letters and papers and packages which must be carried up the crowded roadway of the days which led to the Christmas palace. Expressmen also never spoke enthusiastically of Christmas, but scowled at the mere mention of it, as though it were a prison instead of a palace, a sort of punishment which was inexorably inflicted on them at the end of every year. Dressmakers were also sickened even by the thought of Christmas, for just before that beautiful day every woman wanted a new coat or a new waist or a new skirt, and everybody wanted it at once, so that she would be ready for Christmas, the result being that the dressmakers and all the girls in their shops were so driven and so roundly scolded by impatient and sharp-tongued customers that it was really difficult on the twenty-fifth of December to feel charitable and forgiving and kind to all. Christmas Day was a palace filled with beautiful sights and sounds, but the fact is that many people never got into it, but sat down fagged and despondent at the door. Clerks in the big stores had no good word for Christmas, notwithstanding its beauty and its hallowed associations. Some of them, I fear, hated it, especially the young women clerks, for the hours were so long and the crowds in the store were so big and the air was so bad, and so many of the people were so unreasonable and inconsiderate and crotchety, and the cars at evening were so crowded and the nights seemed so short, that clerks were heard saying to one another, “Won’t you be glad when Christmas is over?”