“The custom of Christmas-trees came from Germany.  I can remember when they were first introduced into England, and what wonderful things we thought them.  Now, every village school has its tree, and the scholars openly discuss whether the presents have been ‘good,’ or ‘mean,’ as compared with other trees in former years.  The first one that I ever saw I believed to have come from Good Father Christmas himself; but little boys have grown too wise now to be taken in for their own amusement.  They are not excited by secret and mysterious preparations in the back drawing-room; they hardly confess to the thrill—­which I feel to this day—­when the folding doors are thrown open, and amid the blaze of tapers, mamma, like a Fate, advances with her scissors to give every one what falls to his lot.

“Well, young people, when I was eight years old I had not seen a Christmas-tree, and the first picture of one I ever saw was the picture of that held by Old Father Christmas in my godmother’s picture-book.

‘"What are those things on the tree?’ I asked.

“‘Candles,’ said my father.

“‘No, father, not the candles; the other things?’

“‘Those are toys, my son.’

“‘Are they ever taken off?’

“’Yes, they are taken off, and given to the children who stand around the tree.’

“Patty and I grasped each other by the hand, and with one voice murmured; ‘How kind of Old Father Christmas!’

“By and by I asked, ‘How old is Father Christmas?’

“My father laughed, and said, ’One thousand eight hundred and thirty years, child,’ which was then the year of our Lord, and thus one thousand eight hundred and thirty years since the first great Christmas Day.

“‘He looks very old,’ whispered Patty.

“And I, who was, for my age, what Kitty called ‘Bible-learned,’ said thoughtfully, and with some puzzledness of mind, ’Then he’s older than Methuselah.’

“But my father had left the room, and did not hear my difficulty.

“November and December went by, and still the picture-book kept all its charm for Patty and me; and we pondered on and loved Old Father Christmas as children can love and realize a fancy friend.  To those who remember the fancies of their childhood I need say no more.

“Christmas week came, Christmas Eve came.  My father and mother were mysteriously and unaccountably busy in the parlour (we had only one parlour), and Patty and I were not allowed to go in.  We went into the kitchen, but even here was no place of rest for as.  Kitty was ’all over the place,’ as she phrased it, and cakes, mince pies, and puddings were with her.  As she justly observed, ’There was no place there for children and books to sit with their toes in the fire, when a body wanted to be at the oven all along.  The cat was enough for her temper,’ she added.

“As to puss, who obstinately refused to take a hint which drove her out into the Christmas frost, she returned again and again with soft steps, and a stupidity that was, I think, affected, to the warm hearth, only to fly at intervals, like a football, before Kitty’s hasty slipper.