“With the help of God, I will no longer be unworthy of you,” he exclaimed. “This precious little Christmas gift shall be my guide, and in obedience to its precepts we shall yet find happiness.”
I uttered a joyful exclamation and awoke, but the remembrance of my dream was vividly present; and as the rays of the morning sun beamed brightly in at our windows, I felt a pleasing confidence that the day would bring happiness to the poor as well as to the rich. All reflections upon the visions of the night were soon banished, however, by the shouts of “Merry Christmas” from numerous happy little voices at our door, and we hastened to join in their pleasure.
A week passed by, and the little heroine of Christmas Eve again stood at our door. It was wonderful what a change a few happy days had wrought in her appearance; and her whole face was radiant with joy, as she told me that they were all so happy now.
“Dear father had promised never to drink again, and he had good work, and they could all live comfortably.” And again and again she assured me that their happiness was all owing, through the blessing of God, to the little book which she bought for father with a part of my Christmas gift.
NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT.
“Father! father! can I go a-nutting with Dick Rogers and Sam Roberts?” shouted Frank Wilbur, as he bounded into the room where his father was seated at a desk, busily engaged in sorting some papers.
“Softly, my son, softly!” replied Mr. Wilbur; “you will disturb your mother, who is not very well, you know. Where do you wish to go?”
“Out in the woods, father. The frost has cracked the chestnut-burs, and the nuts are rattling down so fast!”
“Have you heard them, Frank?” asked his father, smiling at his eagerness.
“No, father, I have not heard them, because I have been at school; but the boys say so, and I know they are. There was a real hard frost last night. May I go, father?”