leaning back in his chair, saying with the greatest earnestness: "Uncle, if I were asked to point out the very happiest time of the whole year, I would fix upon Christmas day, at exactly this hour—the dinner hour—as the thing for me!"

"O you gormandizer!" said his sister Ellen, "you don't really think the dinner the best part of the day?"

"Indeed I do, though," replied Louis; "and I rather guess a good many people are of the same opinion. And, sister Ellen, if you were a boy, and just come home from boarding-school, where they always want you to eat potatoes, I think you'd value turkey and mince-pie as much as I do! Hurra for Christmas, I say!"

There was some conversation at the dinner-table about the origin of the different modes of keeping Christmas day in our country. Mr. Wyndham remarked, that probably the reason why it was so universally kept in Philadelphia, was from the large mixture of the German element in the population of Pennsylvania: perhaps the little Swedish colony which Penn found already settled on the ground when he came over, may have had some influence, as the nations in the middle and north of Europe have always celebrated the day, making it a sort of festival of home, and fireside pleasures. He said that when he was a young man he had passed a winter in Germany, and was spending some time in the house of a friend, in the month of December: being very intimate with all the family, he had been admitted into numerous little secrets, both by young and old. He had seen beforehand the drawings and the ornamental needle-work which were intended as a surprise to the parents, and were executed after they had retired to rest; and he had been allowed to hear the new songs and pieces of instrumental music, learnt by stealth during their absence from home; and had even been privileged to hear the little boy of eight, the pet of the family, recite the verses composed in honor of the joyful occasion, by his oldest sister. And the parents, also, had their own mysteries: for a fortnight before the eventful day, the blooming, comfortable mamma rode out regularly, and returned laden with bundles, which were immediately transferred to a certain large parlor, the windows of which were carefully bolted, the door locked, and the very key-hole stopped up, so that nothing was visible. The children were sent out of the way, and then there were raps at the door, and the carrying of heavy articles along the hall, into the mysterious chamber—Blue Beard's room of horrors was not more eagerly gazed at, than was this parlor, but its blank walls told no secrets.

At length the long-expected day arrived; on Christmas Eve all were assembled in a dark room adjacent—you see I have taken a few hints from my German friends—and at last the doors being thrown open, the mystery was revealed. The room was ornamented with evergreens and colored lamps, very much in the style of our hall, and a large tree blazed with light and sparkled with candied fruits and gilded cornucopias; I made up my mind then, that if ever I had a house of my own, I would keep Christmas Eve in the same way. The little children stood a while, awe-struck by the grandeur of the spectacle: for I can tell you, young people, that the German children are kept in a state of innocence—what you would call greenness—that would amaze you. The good mother then came forward, and took them by the hand: "Come in, Carl; come in, Hermann; fear nothing, little Ida; come in and see if there is any thing here for you." Encouraged by this invitation, all entered, and the room was found to be lined with tables, piled with articles both for use and pleasure; there was a separate table for every one in the house, including the servants, who in Germany live many years in one family, and even for the baby. Their guest also was not forgotten; I found upon my table a pair of slippers, and sundry other gifts, some of which I still keep with care, as a memorial of that very happy evening.

"That must have been really charming! I think the mystery adds very much to the pleasure," said Alice. "And, uncle, is not the custom of hanging up the stocking derived from Germany?"

"I think it is. In Holland there is a little variation, for there the shoe is placed at the door of the chamber, for adults as well as children enter into the sport. I heard an amusing story connected with this practice, when I was in Holland; if you like, I will relate it; the event is said really to have happened."

"Do tell it, uncle!" said John Wyndham. "I like true stories."

"There was a poor, but very handsome and excellent young minister, a licentiate, I think they call it, when a young man is not yet settled in a church; to support himself until he was appointed to a congregation, he took the place of tutor in a rich burgomaster's family, where he fell in love with the pretty, amiable, and mischievous daughter. She fully reciprocated his feelings, and as her parents approved of the match, she gave the bashful young man all the encouragement she could: she felt very sure as to the nature of his sentiments towards her, but notwithstanding all she could do, the young man would not propose—as she rightly concluded, the thought of her superior wealth deterred him; and meantime the foolish fellow became pale and melancholy, as if he seriously meditated going into a decline. So the merry maiden thought, 'This will never do; I must take strong measures, or the poor soul will mope himself to death.' Christmas Eve came round, and the assembled family were joking about the presents they expected. 'Put your slippers outside your door to-night, Dominie,' said the father, calling him by the title commonly applied to clergymen in Holland, and among the descendants of the Dutch in the State of New York, 'I have no doubt your friend Caterina has something to put in them.' 'Oh, it is not worth while—no one cares for me, sir.' 'But, indeed, we do,' replied little Caterina; 'I have something for you, but I am not at all sure you will condescend to accept it. 'Have you indeed, Miss Caterina? I shall feel highly honored; I give you my word that whatever it is, I will accept it joyfully.' 'Very well: only please to remember this, when you see what is in your slippers.'

"The next morning, when the young Dominie opened his door, full of eagerness to see what was in store for him, lo and behold! his slippers had vanished. 'I might have known that the light-hearted, mischievous maiden was only laughing at me—and well I deserve it—fool that I am to dream about one so much above me!' Thus trying to scold himself into stoicism, the young man went over to the breakfast-table, where all were gathered together except Caterina. 'A very merry Christmas! but my dear Dominie, how sober you look!' 'Do I, indeed? that is very improper; but I've been thinking of going away—I had better do so—that makes me look rather sad, perhaps; I've spent so many happy hours among you all.' 'Going away! oh, no, you are not to think of that; I cannot allow such a word. By the way, what have you found in your slippers?' 'To reprove my presumption, no doubt, my slippers have been spirited away in the night: it is not for a poor fellow like me to receive gifts from lovely young ladies.' As he spoke these words, the door opened, and Caterina entered, bright as the morning, her face covered with smiles and blushes; she shuffled along in a strange way, and all eyes naturally fell upon her little feet, which were sailing about in the Dominie's slippers! Amid the general laughter, she walked up to the diffident youth, who could scarcely believe his eyes, and said with an air of irresistible drollery, by which she tried to cover her confusion: 'Here is your Christmas present, sir; do you hold to your promise of accepting it?' Of course, the lady having