When Rose said now, as she was wont to say, after some generous deed of his, "Phil is a good, kind, noble fellow!" Adele affected not to hear, and asked Rose, with a bustling air, if she was "quite sure that she had the right shade of brown" in the worsted work they were upon. So the Christmas season came and went. The Squire cherished a traditional regard for its old festivities, not only by reason of a general festive inclination that was very strong in him, but from a desire to protest in a quiet way against what he called the pestilent religious severities of a great many of the parish, who ignored the day because it was a high holiday in the Popish Church, and in that other, which, under the wing of Episcopacy, was following, in their view, fast after the Babylonish traditions. There was Deacon Tourtelot, for instance, who never failed on a Christmas morning--if weather and sledding were good--to get up his long team (the restive two-year-olds upon the neap) and drive through the main street, with a great clamor of "Haw, Diamond!" and "Gee, Buck and Bright!"--as if to insist upon the secular character of the day. Indeed, with the old-fashioned New-England religious faith, an exuberant, demonstrative joyousness could not gracefully or easily be welded. The hopes that reposed even upon Christ's coming, with its tidings of great joy, must be solemn. And the anniversary of a glorious birth, which, by traditionary impulse, made half the world glad, was to such believers like any other day in the calendar. Even the good Doctor pointed his Christmas prayer with no special unction. What, indeed, were anniversaries, or a yearly proclamation of peace and good-will to men, with those who, on every Sabbath morning, saw the heavens open above the sacred desk, and heard the golden promises expounded, and the thunders of coming retribution echo under the ceiling of the Tabernacle? The Christmas came and went with a great lighting-up of the Elderkin house; and there were green garlands which Rose and Adele have plaited over the mantel, and over the stiff family portraits; and good Phil--in the character of Santa Claus--has stuffed the stockings of all the grandchildren, and--in the character of the bashful lover--has played like a moth about the blazing eyes of Adele. Yet the current of the village gossip has it, that they are to marry. Miss Eliza, indeed, shakes her head wisely, and keeps her own counsel. But Dame Tourtelot reports to old Mistress Tew,--"Phil Elderkin is goin' to marry the French girl." "Haoew?" says Mrs. Tew, adjusting her tin trumpet. "Philip Elderkin--is--a-goin' to marry the French girl," screams the Dame. "Du tell! Goin' to settle in Ashfield?" "I don't know." "No! Where, then?" says Mistress Tew. I don't KNOW," shrieks the Dame. "Oh!" chimes Mrs. Tew; and after reflecting awhile and smoothing out her cap-strings, she says,--"I've heerd the French gurl keeps a cross in her chamber." "_She_ DOOZ," explodes the Dame.