And we will trust with a hopeful trust
That we shall meet him there.
BERTHA’S CHRISTMAS VISION.
It was the night before Christmas. Snow was falling without; and the wind dashed the cold flakes, in eddying whirls, into the faces of those wayfarers whom business or pleasure kept out thus late. They drew their warm garments more closely about them, and hurried onward; little heeding the pelting of the storm while the vision of a cheerful hearth and a merry family circle danced before their eyes and warmed their hearts. Merry St. Nicholas, too, the patron saint of children, was abroad. It was a busy night with him. Thousands of parcels must be made up, and showered down as many chimneys into expectant stockings, before the morrow’s dawn. So he gives the reins to his coursers, and speeds swiftly along,—
“through forest and brake;
Through deep, drifting snow; over river and lake;
Over hill, over dale, where the keen northern blast,
With fierce, angry moaning, drives fearfully past.”