"'All glory be to God on high,
And to the Earth be peace'"—
But Solomon Mit has sung without finishing his last hymn.
What more Mr. Morgridge might have seen, we shall never know, for at this point Kleiner Traum and his kaleidoscope vanished, and did not come back that night at any rate.
V.
Morgridge Klaus.
HEN does Christmas Day begin? It can never be determined, but most people think it begins when they wake, though all do not wake at once; the children generally have the longest Christmas Day. Now, in Fountain Court, almost before daylight, there was some one astir. He came out of the door of Morgridge & Mit, dealers in tobacco, and toddled up the court at an astonishing gait. Where did he go to? he certainly passed the pump and turned the corner, and in a quarter of an hour more was trotting down the court with a parcel in his hand. The door of Morgridge & Mit closes behind him, but not before we have seen his face. Verily, it is Mr. Morgridge, but so extraordinarily like Santa Klaus is he, that we are puzzled to know which of the two it is; the form and shoulders are those of Mr. Morgridge, but the face at least is borrowed from Santa Klaus; Mr. Morgridge never in his life looked so jolly. Not to confound this person with the sour-faced man who sat glumpy, upon the bench taking snuff, the night before, let us call him Morgridge Klaus.
Morgridge Klaus stole slily up stairs to Peter Mit's loft. He went up stairs because there was so much of the Morgridge about him; if there had been more of the Klaus he would undoubtedly have come down the chimney. At the top of the stairs, where it was still quite dark, he could see Peter curled up in bed. But it was not he that he had come to see. He began groping about on the floor in search of something. "Ah! here it is!" he said with a chuckle, bringing to light a stocking most woefully riddled with holes. Morgridge Klaus stuffed a paper parcel into the stocking, and laying it carefully on the floor, stumbled down stairs, chuckling to himself and taking snuff immoderately.
Mr. Morgridge's Christmas Day had in fact commenced, but it was an hour yet before Peter Mit began his Christmas Day. The little fellow rubbed his eyes and drew his knees nearer his chin when he awoke. Then he remembered the day and looked eagerly toward the chimney. There hung his stocking, as small, as full of holes, and as empty as when he hung it. "So it was a dream only after all," he said sorrowfully. Still he went over to it in hopes that the dream might have come true, and that the candy and muffler had remained by the stocking, but they too were gone. Peter shiveringly dressed himself. He had now only one stocking and a shoe to put on. How heavy the stocking was! there was something in it! Peter grew greatly excited—"Santa Klaus must have taken this stocking after all!" said he. Yes, there was a bundle, and the paper stuck to the inside. It was candy without a doubt; but where was the muffler? Peter turned the stocking inside out, but the muffler had gone after the rest of the things. The candy alone was faithful.