which was a great comfort. Children love beautiful things, and we had few of them. The great and precious treasure in our house was the rag carpet in the spare room, which we were allowed to enter only on festive occasions such as Christmas. It had an orange streak in it which I can see to this day. Whenever I come across one that even remotely suggests it, it gives me yet a kind of solemn feeling. We had no piano,—that was a luxury in those days,—and Father was not a singer, but he led on bravely with his tremulous bass and we all joined in, Ane the cook and Maria the housemaid furtively wiping their eyes with their aprons, for they were good and pious folk and this was their Christmas service. So we sang the ten verses to end, with their refrain “Hallelujah! hallelujah!” that always seemed to me to open the very gates of Yule. [Illustration: “WE JOINED HANDS AND DANCED AROUND THE TREE”] And it did, literally; for when the last hallelujah died away, the door of the spare room was flung wide and there stood the Christmas tree, all shining lights, and the baby was borne in, wide-eyed, to be the first, as was proper; for was not this The Child’s holiday? Unconsciously we all gave way to those who were nearest Him, who had most recently come from His presence, and were therefore in closest touch with the spirit of the holiday. So, when we joined hands and danced around the tree, Father held the baby, and we laughed and were happy as the little one crowed his joy and stretched the tiny arms toward the light. Hang up the Baby’s Stocking Hang up the baby’s stocking: Be sure you don’t forget; The dear little dimpled darling! She ne’er saw Christmas yet; But I’ve told her all about it, And she opened her big blue eyes; And I’m sure she understood it— She looked so funny and wise. Dear! what a tiny stocking! It doesn’t take much to hold Such little pink toes as baby’s Away from the frost and cold; But then for the baby’s Christmas It will never do at all; Why, Santa wouldn’t be looking For anything half so small. I know what will do for the baby. I’ve thought of the very best plan: I’ll borrow a stocking of grandma, The longest that ever I can; And you’ll hang it by mine, dear mother, Right here in the corner, so! And write a letter to Santa, And fasten it on the toe. Write, “This is the baby’s stocking That hangs in the corner here; You never have seen her, Santa, For she only came this year; But she’s just the blessedest baby! And now before you go, Just cram her stocking with goodies, From the top clean down to the toe.” A German Christmas