Alina, on being questioned, assured him that she had found the box among the playthings, and had in vain used every exertion to open it; hence she had imagined that it contained something particular, and that the lid would yield only to the experienced hand of her master. "Strange!" repeated Peregrine, "very strange!--and it was with this chase that I had particularly pleased myself; I hope it may not bode any evil!--But who, on a Christmas Eve, would dwell upon such fancies, which have properly no foundation? Alina, fetch me the basket." Alina accordingly brought a large white basket; in which, with much care, he packed up the playthings, the sweetmeats, and the tapers, took the basket under his arm, the great Christmas-tree on his shoulder, and set out on his way. It was the kind and laudable practice of Mr. Tyss to surprise some needy family, where he knew there were children, with his whole cargo of Christmas-boxes, just as he had purchased it, and dream himself for a few hours into the happy times of boyhood. Then, when the children were in the height of their joy, he would softly steal away and wander about the streets half the night, hardly knowing what to do with himself, from the deep emotions which straitened his breast, and feeling his own house like a vault, in which he was buried with all his pleasures. This time his Christmas-boxes were intended for the children of a poor bookbinder, of the name of Lemmerhirt, who was a skilful, industrious man, had long worked for him, and whose three children he was well acquainted with. The bookbinder, Lemmerhirt, lived in the top floor of a narrow house in the Kalbecher-street; and as the winter storm howled and raged, and the rain and snow fell with mingled violence, it may be easily imagined that Peregrine did not get to his object without great difficulty. From the window twinkled down a couple of miserable tapers; with no little toil he clambered up the steep stairs, knocked at the door, and called out, "Open! Open! Christmas sends his presents to all good children." The bookbinder opened the door in alarm, and it was not till after some consideration that he recognised Peregrine, who was quite covered with snow. "Worshipful Mr. Tyss!" he exclaimed, full of wonder--"How in the name of Heaven do I come to such an honour on Christmas Eve?"