CHRISTMAS MISTLETOE 171 
Oklahoma sunlight and sussurated to itself all 
day, bidden thereto by the constant blowing of 
the wind which seemed not to stop to catch its 
breath, even as frogs who fill a long night with 
a quaint vociferation of comfort and unaccounted 
for joy. 
I was free-hearted and alone. The Christmas 
presents for my special beloveds who were at 
home were labeled so all I needed to do was to 
fill them in the happy stockings on the chimney. 
I committed to memory the birds’ song of Jesus 
which the latest-come apostle has preserved for 
us as in amber: “It is more blessed to give than 
to receive,” and I was quite ready to be a recip- 
ient of that beatitude. So, carefree in a swiftly 
blowing wind in the rustling corn, I came afoot. 
“Footing It in Franconia” is the title of a book 
of loitering in the hills of New England. I am 
footing it in the haunts of the mistletoe. 
Footing it anywhere if there be leisure is suffi- 
cient delight for me. Standing on the good 
ground anywhere under the sapphire sky is to 
me an ocean of comfort and delight. And when 
the heart is full of love and sweet suggestion of 
wife and child, neighbor and friend, yesterday 
and to-morrow, to-day and God, and then the 
feet are free with no hands beckoning return 
and no voices bidding hurry, then the whole 
sky and ground of things bids feet and heart 
to loiter and enjoy. Then is there bound to be 
a festival of joy wherein the wave offering of 
