  It was the night before Christmas. Snow was falling without; and the wind dashed the cold flakes, in eddying whirls, into the faces of those wayfarers whom business or pleasure kept out thus late. They drew their warm garments more closely about them, and hurried onward; little heeding the pelting of the storm while the vision of a cheerful hearth and a merry family circle danced before their eyes and warmed their hearts. Merry St. Nicholas, too, the patron saint of children, was abroad. It was a busy night with him. Thousands of parcels “through forest and brake; Through deep, drifting snow; over river and lake; Over hill, over dale, where the keen northern blast, With fierce, angry moaning, drives fearfully past.” In a large and pleasant room sat little Bertha, gazing thoughtfully into the fire. The fire crackled and burnt; and shadows, cast by its flickering light, danced on the wall. But little Bertha’s thoughts were far away, and she heeded them not. For many weeks, she had been looking forward to this very night; and now she was trying to conjecture what gifts good St. Nicholas had in store for her. At length she grew weary of conjecture, took a lamp from the table, and went up stairs to bed. It was a neat little chamber; and the counterpane on “It is a cold night,” thought she. “St. Nicholas will have a hard time of it. What if he should not come at all?” Bertha’s apprehensions were soon dispelled; for, as she looked out, the sound of silvery bells came nearer and nearer, till at length it paused under her window, and, a moment afterwards, was heard in an opposite direction. Bertha rubbed her eyes, and strove to distinguish the sleigh from which these sounds proceeded; but she could distinguish nothing. “Can it be St. Nicholas?” thought she. Even as she spoke, mingling with the sound of the retreating bells, she thought she could distinguish the words of a song. She listened attentively; and these were the words which the wind bore to her:— “The path I have chosen Is covered with snow; The streams are all frozen; Yet onward I go. “I glide o’er the mountain, And skim o’er the lea; I pass by the fountain; Yet no eye can see— “My form or my shadow On snow-drift or mound, On hill-top or meadow, Or frost-spangled ground. “While sleigh-bells are ringing Upon the highway, And glad parties singing So thoughtless and gay,— “I pass through and over Each hamlet and hall Ere mortals discover Who gave them a call. “I pause but to count o’er The gifts for each one, And then quickly mount o’er The stile. I am gone!” “That must certainly be Santa Claus,” thought Bertha. So she carefully hung up her stockings before the fire, and went to bed. She soon became tired of waiting for St. Nicholas to come; and, in a few minutes, she was asleep. But the thoughts of Christmas had taken fast hold of her mind, and, as she slept, shaped themselves into the following dream:— She thought, that, as she was lying awake in her chamber, there appeared suddenly before her three figures, clad in white. Slowly they advanced, hand in hand, till they stood before her bedside. Then, with united voices, they chanted the following lines:— “Maiden, from the fields of air We have winged our rapid flight, Bringing gifts both rich and rare, On this frosty Christmas night. Guard them ever: they will be Of exceeding worth to thee.” They ceased; and Bertha, in great astonishment, inquired,— “What! are you St. Nicholas? Or,” she added, recollecting herself, “perhaps you are his sisters?” The visitors resumed their chant:— “Maiden, no! Thy Christmas saint Beareth gifts of mortal taint: At the touch of sure decay They shall vanish quite away. Those we bear are not of earth: Theirs has been a higher birth.” The visitors ceased; and one of their number, coming forward, commenced anew:— “I am Faith. To thee I bear Childlike trust and confidence In the ever-watchful care Of our Father’s providence. Maiden, one of sisters three, This the gift I bear to thee.” The second came forward, and repeated:— “I am Hope. When darksome clouds Gather round thy earthly way, And Misfortune’s shadowy veil Intercepts the light of day, I will come on wings of light: Clouds and mist shall straightway fly, And reveal the golden gates Of a happier home on high. Maiden, one of sisters three, This the gift I bear to thee.” Smiling graciously on the wondering Bertha, Hope drew back, and gave place to her sister, who commenced as follows:— “I am Charity. Let me Ever on thy steps attend, And, as long as life shall last, Be thy counsellor and friend. In thy bosom I would sow Seeds of gentleness and love, And, a resident of earth, Fit thee for a home above. Maiden, last of sisters three, This the gift I bear to thee.” Again the sisters joined hands, and, with united voices, chanted, as at first,— “Maiden, from the fields of air We have winged our rapid flight, Bringing gifts both rich and rare, On this frosty Christmas night. Faith and Hope and Charity! Earthly maiden, sisters three, These the gifts we bear to thee.” Their voices died away, and they were gone. Bertha opened her eyes, and, lo! it was all a vision that had come to her on this Christmas night. The morning sun was shining brightly through the window-panes. Noisily over the frozen snow dashed the sleighs; and their bells rang a merry peal in honor of Christmas Day. Bertha glanced at the well-filled stockings that hung in front of the fire, and then she knew that St. Nicholas had been there with his budget of gifts; and the words sung by the sisters came into her mind:— “Maiden, no! Thy Christmas saint Beareth gifts of mortal taint. Those we bear are not of earth: Theirs has been a higher birth.” “I will not forget the gifts of the good sisters,” she murmured softly. “Doubtless it is my heavenly Father who has sent them to me.” So it was that little Bertha, attended by the three sisters, walked peacefully and happily through life. The ways of God’s providence, so dark and mysterious to many, became plain and clear to her; for she saw with the eye of Faith. Clouds sometimes gathered about her path; but Hope waved her wand, and they were at once dispelled. Jealousy and envy and angry thoughts disturbed her not; for her heart was filled with the heavenly spirit of Charity. Would that we all might be blessed with Bertha’s Christmas vision! |
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