514: 
[December, 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
brightest morn the world has ever seen, when all crea¬ 
tion rejoiced and “ the morning stars sang together.” 
I can not say enough for Christmas; it is not national, 
but divine in its origin, and is a Holiday that should be 
everywhere held sacred. It is the day of heart-gladden¬ 
childhood when Santa Claus with his great, flowing, grey 
heard and enormous pack, fleet deer team and last-flying 
sled, the entrance by the chimney, and all such things, 
were as real as the twinkling stars I used to watch in the 
clear December sky, from my chamber window, and 
Fig. 1.— THE WAKEFULNESS OF ANTICIPATION. 
the question: Isn’t it hard to go to bed on Christmas 
Eve and stop all thinking, and go right to sleep and stay 
in the “Land of Hod” until late in the morning? Isn’t 
there something about the hanging up the stocking 
that produces a feeling of “ widc-awaked-ness ” ? Isn’t 
there something in the idea that 
Saint Nicholas may make you a 
call—though you know that there 
is no such person—that tends to 
keep the eyes open and the stock¬ 
ing in sighti? But however long 
the night may seem, the day comes 
at last, and early dawn does not 
find many youngsters in their beds. 
This makes the day longer than 
the ordinary; and if we add to this 
the extra running and jumping, the 
laughter and shouting caused by the 
new toys, the disposal of the bags 
of nuts and candies, the partaking 
of the Christmas dinner, etc., it is 
no wonder that by the time the day 
is finished the little ones are pret¬ 
ty well used up too. It is hard to 
give up the play, but, like a soldier 
in battle, they fall (asleep) on the 
field (sofa) with the wreck of the 
day’s disaster around them. It is 
a pitiful and yet a pleasant sight on 
Christmas night, to see the little 
ones, tired out, yet not ready for 
bed, witli no strength of body to 
play longer, but with a strong desire 
to “ stay up just a little while,” and 
at last fall into a Christmas sleep.— 
What visions must come and go, 
in the mind of the young Captain, 
in the second engraving, who has 
taken an unceremonious departure 
to a far-off land, and from which 
only imperfect reports return, in 
the disconnected words which fall 
from his lips. Now he is leading 
a charge as “ Fix bayonet-quick 
-dou-ck” are spoken. And again he has a com¬ 
pany of raw recruits, and the green boys are being put 
through the simple movements.—Will he ever be a sol¬ 
dier, as he is dreaming he is 1 Will his sword ever be 
drawn to save his country (not to spoil his drum) 1 Will 
tlie dream-land of Christmas night, as he lies upon the 
sofa, come to him in reality! Rather may be, and his 
country, see only peace, such as is now spread over his 
countenance. He is at rest. The day is done. Christ¬ 
mas is gone.—No. Christmas is never gone. In all the 
ages that are to be; in the years to come when all the 
Fig. 2. — THE SLEEPINESS OF REALIZATION. 
children are children. The young reader need not be 
very old, to be in full sympathy with the little fellow, and 
can no doubt, following the adage to “ put yourself in his 
place,” remember how very, very long is the night which 
follows the 24th of December. Of course some children 
are naturally more wakeful than others, but let me put 
Boys and Girls in the great American Agriculturist family 
will be men and women, the day on which Christ was 
born will be sacred in memories and bright in glorious 
anticipations. May there be many Christmas days to you 
all, and may they be merry, merry ones. Let us never, 
never forget that Chnstmas Is Coming. Uncle Hal. 
ing; of giving and receiving; of happy surprises and 
solid fun. Old and young, rich and poor, high and low, 
all look forward to it with anxious eyes; and the days, 
weeks, and even months, are counted by the little ones, 
many of whom first learn to reckon by making their 
fingers stand for the weeks, and as it gets closer, the days, 
to Christmas. Is it any wonder that the days of watching 
and waiting should seem long, and at times as if the 25th of 
December would never come 1 But itiscoming,and during 
all this time of gradual approach what is being done that 
in some measure shortens the time ? This is a hard ques¬ 
tion to answer. From ocean to ocean, 
from gulf to great lakes, and in many 
other lands, thousands and thousands 
of persons are busy in the prepara¬ 
tion, with warm hearts beating to the 
measure of “ It is more blessed to give 
than to receive.”—Many hands are em¬ 
ployed during all the spare moments, 
in making nice things which no 
one else knows anything about, or if 
they do “they don't show it,” which 
amounts to the same thing. Sister 
Mary is, perhaps, working on a pair of 
slippers for brother Henry, and is very 
shy at his coming, and runs to hide 
her work in a drawer with perhaps 
the excuse that she is after a clean 
handkerchief. Mamma is making a 
half dozen things for as many of her 
household, but finds it the hardest of 
the task to keep the fact from them; 
they suspect and expect something is 
going on, and act accordingly, moving 
about the house with their eyes shut, 
almost, not daring to look in any out- 
of-the-way places for fear of exposing 
some secret. What is not done for 
Christmas! The boys that are skill¬ 
ful with tools are building carts, sleds, 
wooden toys, puzzles, etc., and the 
girls with nimble fingers are getting 
up pin-cushions, “ what-nots,” and 
what not! And what thoughts the chil¬ 
dren have as the day approaches 1 Boys 
coast in imagination down the big hill 
on their Chnstmas sled, and glide over 
the smooth ice of the pond on skates 
which they hope some friend may give them. The girls 
rock themselves to sleep while tending some imaginary 
but hoped for—yes, longed for Christmas doll, and sing 
the baby to sweet repose in the expectation of the reali¬ 
ties ttiat Santa Claus will bring. As I stop to think of 
Christmas, how many thoughts fly back to those years of 
think of the large, clean stocking hung, along with 
others, at the fire-place, and wonder why such a good 
man should do so much on so cold a night. As I indulge 
in these memories of the Christmas of by-gone years, the 
artist comes, and I ask him if he can not present my 
thoughts in a picture. He too has had the same experi¬ 
ence ; he has had his long nights before Christmas, when 
tlie house was still, and only the old clock con Id be heard, 
and its ticks were wide between. Here is his picture, 
evidently drawn from memory, of what has happened and 
which will happen so long as Christmas is observed and 
