During the afternoon the happy littérateurs, released from their daily toil, threw themselves heartily into the enjoyment of all kinds of winter sport. Some put on skates and sped up and down the frozen surface of the Hackensack, while others coasted downhill, threw snowballs at one another, and even made little sliding-places on the sidewalk, where they enjoyed themselves to their hearts’ content. When twilight fell upon the settlement they all entered their homes, to emerge half an hour later clothed in Sunday attire, with their faces and hands as clean as soap and water could make them, ready to sit down to the great Christmas banquet provided for them by their employer. It is doubtful if there has ever been as large a number of literary men seated at any banquet-table as gathered on this evening as the guests of Master Mechanic McClure. The host sat at the upper end of the great horseshoe table, and beside him were invited guests representing the literary profession in its many phases. The guests were deftly and quickly served by a corps of one-rhyme-to-the-quatrain poets who had formerly been contributors to Mr. Spencer’s organ of thought, the _Illustrated American_, and were thoroughly accustomed to waiting. At the close of the feast a huge pie was placed upon the table, and instantly opened by Mr. McClure. Thereupon, to the delight of all the guests, Mr. J. K. Bangs sprang forth and sang a solemn and beautiful hallelujah in praise of the Harper publications. After the applause which followed this unexpected encomium of the great publishing-house had subsided, Mr. McClure introduced to his employees the literary centipede, Mr. Harry Thurston Peck, who stood up in his place, with a pen in each claw, and explained how it was possible not only to work with all his tentacles at once, but also to give the lie to the old story of the Crow and the Fox, by editing a magazine with his teeth, and at the same time lecturing to the Columbia College students without letting go of his job. During Mr. Peck’s remarks the giver of the feast quietly withdrew, and, as the speaker ended, the curtains were withdrawn, revealing the great, brilliantly lighted tree, and Mr. McClure himself in the garb of Santa Claus, ready to distribute the Christmas gifts. There was a present for every one, and all had been chosen with special reference to individual tastes. To one was given a sled, to another a pair of skates, to a third a suit of warm underwear, and to a fourth a silver-mounted ivory foot-rule for scanning poetry. To such of the workmen as held an unusually high record for a year of industrious work, not marred by any breakage of valuable goods, Mr. McClure gave also an order for some article which could easily be prepared in odd moments, and which would be liberally paid for when completed and packed for shipment.