542 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[December, 
Christmas Eve at the Old Homestead. 
BY AGNES CARR. 
Merry Christmas! What visions of delight are 
contained in the very words ; and Christmas Eve is 
the happy, mys¬ 
terious time to 
which every child 
looks forward, 
with gladdest an¬ 
ticipations, the 
brightest red-let¬ 
ter day in all the 
calendar. In far 
off Germany, the 
flaxen-haired boys 
and maidens are 
eagerly watching 
for the coming of 
the fair little 
Christ Child; 
while their cous¬ 
ins over in Hol¬ 
land, are strain¬ 
ing their ears to 
catch the sound 
of the pattering 
hoofs of Kriss 
K r i n g 1 e’s tiny 
reindeer, and our 
own lads and las¬ 
sies are dreaming 
of the beautiful 
gifts to be brought 
them by Santa 
Claus, in his won¬ 
derful magical 
bag. But Santa 
Claus, Kriss Krin- 
gle, or Christ 
Child, whichever 
it be, the same 
good wili inspires 
the visits of each, 
and Christmas joy 
makes the whole 
world akin. 
“ Christmas comes 
hut once a year, 
But when it comes it 
brings good cheer." 
And no where 
more than to a 
large family gath¬ 
ering in some dear 
oldcountry home¬ 
stead. Without, 
the fields are 
white with the 
frost king’s man¬ 
tle, and the air is 
bitter cold, but 
within the yule 
log blazes merrily 
in the wide chim¬ 
ney ; the spicy 
odor of ever¬ 
greens pervades 
every room, and 
skillful, loving 
hands twine the 
pine, holly, and 
mistletoe into graceful wreathes and garlands, to 
deck the walls, making the old home a bower of 
beauty for the joyful, happy Christmas-tide. 
Father comes from town, looking like a veritable 
St. Nicholas himself, iu bis great fur coat, the 
pockets of which are overflowing with mysterious 
bundles. Mother goes about on “hospitable 
thoughts intent,” baking and brewing, and pack¬ 
ing great hampers of good things to send to her 
poorer neighbors that they may share—in part at 
least—her Christmas cheer. Sister is shut up in 
the parlor, from which all others are excluded, and 
the little folks dance Sbout on tiptoe, in a fever of 
expectation, trying to steal sly peeps through the 
key-hole, and raising loud shouts of glee when, 
coming slowly up the road, they spy big brother 
Will, driving Dobbin, the staid old farm horse, 
dragging after him the low sled, upon which rests 
the tall, wide-spreading Christmas tree. A forest 
prince was this stately fir, in his native wilds. 
Birds built in his green boughs. Wee woodland 
ferns and flowers clustered beneath his protecting 
arms, and through summer and winter, he lifted 
his head proudly toward the blue dome above. 
But he has been chosen for even greater glory, and, 
as king of the Christmas feast, he will soon stand 
blossoming with glittering balls and twinkling 
lights, bearing most wondrous Christmas fruit, and 
surrounded by smiling childish subjects, who gaily 
chant his royal praise. . 
“Isn’t it a beauty!” exclaims Will, who had 
selected the tree weeks before, and all admire the 
shapely young sapling, while Kathie, the baby of 
the household, asks, in her happy childish way,, 
if it “grew in Santa Claus’ garden.” 
Coming Home for Christmas. 
“ If Robert and Nellie were but here, we 6houldl 
have nothing to wish for,” says the mother, think¬ 
ing of her eldest son and a favorite cousin, whose 
homes are in the great city. And when the soft, 
early twilight 
steals on, two 
forms come up- 
the country road, 
a stalwart young- 
man and a fair, 
“ flower - faced ” 
girl, conversing in 
low tones, and 
glancing tenderly 
at old landmarks 
by the way. But 
ever and anon 
their eyes turn 
eagerly towards 
the light that, 
shines from the 
farm-house win¬ 
dows, for it is. 
the light of home. 
A moment more,, 
and the door is 
swung open wide, 
a ringing voice 
cries, “ Mother, 
we have come 
home for Christ¬ 
mas,” the new 
comers are clasp¬ 
ed in a dozen lov¬ 
ing arms, and the 
family circle is 
again complete. 
Gently the dark 
curtains of night 
descend upon the 
quiet earth. The 
Christmas tapers 
are lighted in the 
heavens, and the 
holy spirit of 
Christmas broods- 
overall the world, 
sending forth its 
sweet message of 
“peace, good will 
towards men.” A 
group of chorist¬ 
ers returning 
from a rehearsal 
at the village 
church pass by, 
chanting a glad 
carol, “ Hallelu¬ 
jah ! hallelryah in 
the highest!” re¬ 
minding the chil¬ 
dren within the 
old homestead of 
the angels that 
once sang to the 
shepherds on an 
eastern plain. And 
wee Kathie, gaz¬ 
ing up at one par¬ 
ticularly bright 
planet, wonders if 
thac can be the “Star of Bethlehem” — that 
guiding star which heralded the birth of Him who 
has been a “ guiding star ” to the lives of so many 
of the best and the noblest of earth. They think 
of the little child who saw the light in that far-off 
stable, whose birth changed the life of the whole 
world. They think it well to be merry on this night, 
but with their mirth they mingle grateful thoughts. 
Joy and merriment resound on every side, but 
one by one the lights on the Christmas tree go out; 
the fruit is plucked and distributed ; the choris¬ 
ters’ voices have long since died away in the- 
BRINGING HOME THE CHRISTMAS TREES. 
Designed by Charles Yolkmar, and Engraved for the Amerian Agriculturist. 
