“The first Noel the angels did say, Was to three poor shepherds, in fields as they lay, In fields where they were keeping their sheep, On a cold winter's night that was so deep. Chorus.--Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel, Born is the King of Israel.” The chorus also was sung outside. During the chorus one of the doors opened, and Jael Dence came in by it; and the treble singer, who was the blacksmith's sister, came in at the window, and so the two women met in the room, and sang the second verse in sweetest harmony. These two did not sing like invalids, as their more refined sisters too often do; from their broad chests, and healthy lungs, and noble throats, and above all, their musical hearts, they poured out the harmony so clear and full, that every glass in the room rang like a harp, and a bolt of ice seemed to shoot down Grace Carden's backbone; and, in the chorus, gentle George's bass was like a diapason. “They looked up and saw a star That shone in the East beyond them far, And unto the earth it gave a great light, And so it continued both day and night. Chorus--Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel, Born is the King of Israel.” As the Noel proceeded, some came in at the window, others at the doors, and the lower part of the room began to fill with singers and auditors. The Noel ended: there was a silence, during which the organ was opened, the bellows blown, and a number of servants and others came into the room with little lighted tapers, and stood, in a long row, awaiting a signal from the Squire. He took out his watch, and, finding it was close on twelve o'clock, directed the doors to be flung open, that he might hear the great clock in the hall strike the quarters. There was a solemn hush of expectation, that made the sensitive heart of Grace Carden thrill with anticipation. The clock struck the first quarter--dead silence; the second--the third--dead silence. But, at the fourth, and with the first stroke of midnight, out burst the full organ and fifty voices, with the “Gloria in excelsis Deo;” and, as that divine hymn surged on, the lighters ran along the walls and lighted the eighty candles, and, for the first time, the twelve waxen pillars, so that, as the hymn concluded, the room was in a blaze, and it was Christmas Day. Instantly an enormous punch-bowl was brought to the host. He put his lips to it, and said, “Friends, neighbors, I wish you all a merry Christmas.” Then there was a cheer that made the whole house echo; and, by this time, the tears were running down Grace Carden's cheeks. She turned aside, to hide her pious emotion, and found herself right opposite the picture, with this inscription, large and plain, in the blaze of light-- “GONE INTO TRADE”