There is a brick meeting-house on Murray Hill that beats it all to nothing, for that has just the longest and pointedest steeple that I ever set eyes on. Still, everybody allows that the little Episcopal church I went to, Christmas morning, is the very highest in all America; and, though in my heart I don't believe it, having eyes in my head--there is no chance for me to take a measurement, and what can I say against the word of everybody else? Still, to you in confidence, for I don't want to get into a schismatic controversy, I dare take an oath that the brick church on Murray Hill is twice as high, to say nothing of the sharp-pointedness of the steeple and the hilly ground. Cousin E. E. Dempster says she is high church from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot, which I didn't dispute, for she always had high notions. She gave me strict charge, when I went to bed, Christmas Eve night, not to sleep late, and be sure to be ready for an early start. Well, I went to bed feeling as if I had got to start by some swift railway train every hour of the night, and must be ready for them all. It was Sunday night, you know, and I woke up twice with a start, before it was next week; got up, felt for the matches I had laid handy, and went to bed again, and dreamed that I was trying to get into a steamboat with two steeples, which put off, and left me freezing on the dock. Like one of the wise virgins, I had brought a candle upstairs, and some matches, which was an improvement on their old lamps, I dare say; but I wasn't much afraid of the dark, and didn't keep it burning, only left everything ready. After that dream, I started up, struck a match, and found that I had been just fifteen minutes in getting that steam church under way. So I went on dreaming, starting up, and lighting matches all night, till at last I hadn't but one left, and with that I lighted the candle, and a gas-burner by the bureau, and began to dress myself. Before I got through, Cousin E. E. was at the door, with her beehive bonnet on, and wrapped up in fur. "Almost ready? I am so glad, for the day is just beginning to break, and I wouldn't have it broad light when we get there, for anything," says she. "Wrap up warm, for it has blown up awful cold in the night." I did wrap up warm; put on a veil, and tied my mink-skin victorine, with three tails on each tab, close around my neck. We went downstairs carefully, for only one burner was twinkling in the hall, and the whole house was dark and shivery. "Come in here," says Cousin E. E., opening the dining-room door. Under the glass globe, in which two or three chilly lights seemed longing to go out, the ghost of a table was spread, with a great deal of silver, and very little to eat. "Just a cup of coffee and a mouthful of toast before we start," says E. E., sitting down behind a great silver urn in her furs and her beehive; "for my own part, I could do without that."