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is out. Always the house is kept open and the logs burning 

 and the latch-string flying in whatever stormy weather blows 

 our way until after Christmas. Some year we shall perhaps 

 be able to decide the still unsettled question of which season 

 is the most beautiful in Nature-land. So far we have always 

 decided in favour of whichever season happened to be at 

 hand at the moment. Winds may blow and crack their 

 cheeks, snow and ice and frost and cold may come at Christ- 

 mastide, but with all there pervades the sense of that peaceful 

 rest which the garden children are having to fit them for 

 next year's hard work. We shall welcome you to this final 

 test of the garden, and we promise that you shall have plenty 

 to do, for ours is a real old-fashioned Christmas, with snow 

 high and fires that roar in the old chimneys, kettles to 

 simmer on the hob, com to pop and apples ready to roast. 

 Come, do come. So always we round out the year,. - . „>- 



Who'll bring yule logs, — ^Who'll build fires, — 

 Joyful work that never tires? i^/ 



Who'll bring holly, — Who'll make wreams, — 

 Who'll sing carols, — ^Who'll trim trees? 



Who'll bring myrrh and spices old, — 

 Who'll bring frankincense and gold? 



Noel, Noel! 

 Christ is born. 

 Peace on Earth, 

 'Tis Christmas mom. 



^^^: 



