Many of the tables had bundles of rods with gilded bands, which were to be used that evening by the persons who represented St. Nicholas.  In the family with whom we reside, one of our German friends dressed himself very comically, with a mask, fur robe and long tapering cap.  He came in with a bunch of rods and a sack, and a broom for a sceptre.  After we all had received our share of the beating, he threw the contents of his bag on the table, and while we were scrambling for the nuts and apples, gave us many smart raps over the fingers.  In many families the children are made to say, “I thank you, Herr Nicolaus,” and the rods are hung up in the room till Christmas to keep them in good behavior.  This was only a forerunner of the Christ-kindchen’s coming.  The Nicolaus is the punishing spirit, the Christ-kindchen the rewarding one.

When this time was over, we all began preparing secretly our presents for Christmas.  Every day there were consultations about the things which should be obtained.  It was so arranged that all should interchange presents, but nobody must know beforehand what he would receive.  What pleasure there was in all these secret purchases and preparations!  Scarcely anything was thought or spoken of but Christmas, and every day the consultations became more numerous and secret.  The trees were bought sometime beforehand, but as we were to witness the festival for the first time, we were not allowed to see them prepared, in order that the effect might be as great as possible.  The market in the Roeinerberg Square grew constantly larger and more brilliant.  Every night it was lit up with lamps and thronged with people.  Quite a forest sprang up in the street before our door.  The old stone house opposite, with the traces of so many centuries on its dark face, seemed to stand in the midst of a garden.  It was a pleasure to go out every evening and see the children rushing to and fro, shouting and seeking out toys from the booths, and talking all the time of the Christmas that was so near.  The poor people went by with their little presents hid under their cloaks, lest their children might see them; every heart was glad and every countenance wore a smile of secret pleasure.

Finally the day before Christmas arrived.  The streets were so full I could scarce make my way through, and the sale of trees went on more rapidly than ever.  These wore commonly branches of pine or fir, set upright in a little miniature garden of moss.  When the lamps were lighted at night, our street had the appearance of an illuminated garden.  We were prohibited from entering the rooms up stairs in which the grand ceremony was to take place, being obliged to take our seats in those arranged for the guests, and wait with impatience the hour when Christ-kindchen should call.  Several relations of the family came, and what was more agreeable, they brought with them five or six children.  I was anxious to see how they would view the ceremony.  Finally, in the middle of