Christmas Out of Doors. 203 



home, whether in open fields or wooded hill- 

 side, by the wide river's bush-grown banks, or 

 hides in hollows thick with tangled briers. I do 

 not wish to track his wrenship to his lair. He 

 is not a bird to be hunted, but let him find you 

 out. Reverse the order, and be pursued rather 

 than the pursuer. Now, he comes from the 

 twiggy tops of twisted trees, and then, as 

 if earth opened, he comes from some dark 

 cave beneath you ; but whatever the direction, 

 whatever the manner, the message that he 

 brings is ever the same, let him express it as 

 he will, Cheery, cheery, cheery ! and even the 

 old oaks look glad. Whether or not, I feel so 

 when I hear this earnest herald of a winter-long 

 Christmas. Not all the sacred music of this 

 day is to be heard in the churches. There is a 

 real or supposed magic in green, and never a 

 day in winter but we greet it effusively, as an 

 ever welcome but unexpected gift. Are we 

 logical ? We act as though we would all have 

 headaches if the world was red, or become 

 bilious beyond endurance if the skies were yel- 

 low, forgetting that the Eskimo finds a white 

 world endurable ; so why not we, who hold 



