CHRISTMAS IN THE WOODS 47 



slope of the hill. The bird was a fleck of flaming 

 summer. As warm as summer, too, were the pointed 

 cones of stag-horn sumac burning on the crest of the 

 ridge against the group of holly trees trees as fresh 

 as April, and all aglow with red berries. 



The woods were decorated for the Holy Day. The 

 gentleness of the soft, new snow touched everything; 

 cheer and good-will lighted the unclouded sky and 

 warmed the thick depths of the evergreens, and 

 blazed in the crimson-berried bushes of the ilex and 

 the alder. The Christmas woods were glad. The heart 

 of the woods was full of Christmas peace. 



Now I did not imagine all of this as I went along. 

 Perhaps there was the spirit of Christmas in my 

 heart, and so I found the spirit of Christmas in the 

 woods ; but so it must have been with the household 

 I had just left, back on the city street. Every one 

 had Christmas in his heart, and so every one found 

 Christmas in the Christmas-tree blazing and glitter- 

 ing in its candle-flame blossoms and jeweled fruit. 



So there was real Christmas joy and peace a 

 real Christmas spirit abroad in the woods this 

 snowy Christmas morning. The sky had it, the trees 

 had it, the soft white slopes had it, the softly flow- 

 ing creek had it, flowing softly toward the bay. 



But doubtless my own feelings had something to 

 do with it all. This was Christmas Day, and these 

 were my home woods, the woods where I tramped 

 and trapped and "grew up " when a boy ; and this was 



