Twilight Stories

The Christmas chimes are pealing high Beneath the solemn Christmas sky, And blowing winds their notes prolong Like echoes from an angel's song; Good will and peace, peace and good will Ring out the carols glad and gay, Telling the heavenly message still That Christ the Child was born to-day. In lowly hut and palace hall Peasant and king keep festival, And childhood wears a fairer guise, And tenderer shine all mother-eyes; The aged man forgets his years, The mirthful heart is doubly gay, The sad are cheated of their tears, For Christ the Lord was born to-day. SUSAN COOLIDGE.
They sat on the curbing In a crowded row— Two little maids And one little beau,— Watching to see The big Elephant go By in the street parade; But when it came past, Of maids there were none, For down a by-street They cowardly run, While one little beau Made all manner of fun— Of the Elephant he wasn't afraid.
One hundred years' and one ago, in Boston, at ten of the clock one April night, a church steeple had been climbed and a lantern hung out.
At ten, the same night, in mid-river of the Charles, oarsmen two, with passenger silent and grim, had seen the signal light out-swung, and rowed with speed for the Charlestown shore.
At eleven, the moon was risen, and the grim passenger, Paul Revere, had ridden up the Neck, encountered a foe, who opposed his ride into the country, and, after a brief delay, rode on, leaving a British officer lying in a clay pit.
At mid-night, a hundred ears had heard the flying horseman cry, Up and arm. The Regulars are coming out!
You know the story well. You have heard how the wild alarm ran from voice to voice and echoed beneath every roof, until the men of Lexington and Concord were stirred and aroused with patriotic fear for the safety of the public stores that had been committed to their keeping.
You know how, long ere the chill April day began to dawn, they had drawn, by horse power and by hand power, the cherished stores into safe hiding-places in the depth of friendly forest-coverts.