Leaves for a Christmas Bough: Love, Truth, and Hope

CHRISTMAS EVE.
Love, Truth, and Hope.
Recollections of the many pleasant hours passed with a certain juvenile circle, not fifty miles from Boston, and associations connected with this joyous season, have induced the feeble effort of collecting a few stray leaves for its amusement. Hoping that their many defects, arising from a hasty preparation amid various cares and occupations, may be kindly pardoned, they are presented as a trifling Gift for the Holidays.
To that group, bound together by a mutual sympathy in each other's joys and fleeting sorrows, it may not be uninteresting to recall the days of Auld Lang Syne. The scene will be a chequered one, for amid the frolic and sunshine, some tears will have been shed; while with hours of hard and thoughtful study, the bitterness of failure will sometimes appear.
But the bright and beautiful so far prevail over the rest, that such only need be recalled; and while enjoying those sweet remembrances, let us be merry and glad together. With truth and goodness as our constant aim, let us strive to make daily progress in the school of life, and though we may be separated on Earth, we may hope for a blissful reunion in Heaven.
My dear Children:
As I have always been in the habit of meeting with you on this Anniversary, and as I cannot expect to see you all together this year, for the sake of old times I am going to write you a letter. Perhaps you are not aware that I have been a silent spectator of your daily occupations, but so it is.
I generally take a nap from one year to another, so after our glorious celebration at the Bee-Hive, I packed myself away in the stove-pipe for that purpose; but the hum of merry voices kept me awake, and thus I lay and listened to what was going on. The fairies, in whom you perhaps all believe, have also been quite numerous in your vicinity, and from my relationship to them, I have often heard of your excursions over hill and dale, and the many gay times you have enjoyed together.