the thick darkness came up from the ground
shadows, and sat rocking and moaning in
the tops of the tall trees; and the
winter, with its mourning hood of mist
and bitter hail tears, came rushing down the
hills and over the river, as if it had been
driven forth to-night from the rejoicing
town; and it seemed as if it howled and
raged round the mill, trying, in the blind
fury of its giant strength, to pluck it up from
its foundations, and dash it down to the
earth.

Then little Gretchen thought, as she lay
in her little bed, of the wehr wolf with the
flaming eyes, and of the dark huntsman who
rules through the night, to see whom is
death; and of the wicked ones with the fair
cruel faces and foul trailing serpent bodies,
that peer through the tangled branches in
the mysterious depths of the forest, to tempt
men; and, above all, of the Skeleton Hand
that knocks upon the pane before the dead
are called. And she thought, " Were I shut
up all night by myself in the old church, I
should not fear the cold silent ones in their
grave clothes, for I should creep close to the
feet of the dear Lord, and I should be safe;
but, alas! I am now too far away for Him
to help me, if they come!" So she hid her
eyes with the coverlet, and she heard her
heart beating so loudly that it seemed as
if the Hand knocked without; and as if in
the cold darkness some fearful presence,
wrapped in the death mantle, drew near in
the chamber to her little bed.

Hearken! Over the forest it came from the
distant town. The angry conflict of the
night died wailingly off, on great mountain
ranges as the holy sound followed hard upon
it, and smote it. The strong wind, like a
fleet runner, from the watch-tower sped
upon its way, bearing good tidings of great
joy to all the dwellers in the valleys. Blessings
were scattered abroad upon the air, and
sprinkled each lintel as they passed, with the
sacred influence.

Then Gretchen's tears flowed fast; but
they were not for sorrow, nor did she any
longer dread the lonely darkness, nor the
evil ones, nor the raging of the tempest; for
she knew that now the happy birth-hour
had come, and she remembered how the
patient dumb oxen, sheltered within their
stalls from the winter cold, kneel down in
humble adoration, and how the birds fly up
to the star mansions to be fed by the angels,
and learn the songs of the skies; and how
to-night the innocent ones, sleeping on
mothers' bosoms, or within their cradles,
hear voices to which men are deaf; and how
the orphaned ones receive the Christmas
love-kiss on their slumbering lids.

Then a great peace and joy filled her
heart with their harmonies, and she said,
"All creatures are bidden to rejoice to-night.
I, too, will keep the Master's feast." So
she arose, and crept down the mill-stairs to
the kitchen below, where the kindling fuel
still smouldered upon the hearth. Then she
lighted her lamp. She took forth from the
chest of napery a cloth that her grand-
mother had woven in the days of her own
youth. She spread the table, and placed
upon it all that she could find in the poor
household stores—the loaf of wheaten bread
and the pitcher of water; and she laid the
trencher and cup in the guest place, and
drew the old oaken settles to her supper.
Then Gretchen set wide open the house-
door, to let the Yule tide in, and she sat
down to break bread, and, through her
childish tears of loneliness, she saw the light
of her lamp, all blurred, fading upon the
outward air, and presently rekindle into
the light of stars, as it shone around the
head of the Child who had come to be
her midnight guest.

Oh, the beautiful dawn! Clad in its
heaven robes of unspotted snow, with its ice
jewels sparkling upon its breast, it came in
fair presence down from the mountain top!
The great king of the East came from afar
with golden gifts to do it homage. The
smoke from the home-hearths rose up as
from pious censers to greet it; the bells in
the distant towers signalled its approach;
the voices of the children shouted a welcome
into the clear cold air. Even the cocks in
the farmyard stood upon tiptoe to make
themselves heard. The cattle lowed from
the stalls, and the birds, in a fine commotion,
flew hither and thither, twittering as if they,
too, had been bidden by the Master to his
feast.

But Hans, the miller, was in no trim to
meet it. Surely he had been drinking of
the dark wine of the Evil One, which turns
to poison in the veins. His eyes were all
red and bloodshot, and sunk abashed from,
meeting the pure angel of light. His beard
was untrimmed, and his clothes were awry,
as if those unholy companions had plucked
at them with graceless fingers, saying,
"Abide with us; are we not brethren?"

Then as he stood in sullen shame, opening
softly his door, lest some passing neighbour,
should see him, a sweet fragrance smote him,
that was certainly not alone the heavenly
breathing of the young morning. Oh,