The yellow daffodil, or narcissus, is a plant which first grew in southern France, and along the Mediterranean, and it may be that it was some early settler from Languedoc or Provence, who introduced into Louisiana a custom common half a century ago, that had a dim resemblance to this planting of St. Barbara’s grain. The daffodil bulbs were planted in shallow earthenware dishes on the eve of All Saints, and set for three weeks in the warm dark, and later in the sun. The older creoles foretold a fruitful year if the flower bud were well formed by St. Barbara’s day. Before the Paling of the Stars Before the paling of the stars, Before the winter morn, Before the earliest cockcrow, Jesus Christ was born: Born in a stable, Cradled in a manger, In the world His hands had made Born a stranger. Priest and King lay fast asleep In Jerusalem, Young and old lay fast asleep In crowded Bethlehem: Saint and Angel, ox and ass, Kept a watch together Before the Christmas daybreak In the winter weather. Jesus on His Mother’s breast In the stable cold, Spotless Lamb of God was He, Shepherd of the fold: Let us kneel with Mary Maid, With Joseph bent and hoary, With Saint and Angel, ox and ass, To hail the King of Glory. A Midnight Mass in France The great time for making gifts in France is the _Jour de l’An_, the day of the year, our New Year’s Day, when there is a great exchange of cards, good wishes, visits, and presents. On Christmas Eve, everything else used to pale before the exciting adventure of going to the church at midnight. After church came the Grand Supper, a family gathering from which the children were sent to bed long before they were ready to go, comforting themselves as they climbed the stair by asking each other, “What do you think P’tit Noël will put in your shoe?” But they were always too sleepy to lie awake long enough to see whose hand it was that dropped into each little shoe under the mantelpiece a few goodies or bits of silver coin. Sometimes one was guiltily afraid that a black record of naughtiness deserved the disgracing gift of a few pebbles, but then,—surely Petit Jesus was forgiving and next year one would be very good, yes, of a certainty, _most_ good.