Fresh Air.
Farewell.
Innocent Surprises.
The Old Sailor.
Laughter.
To Stephen.
The Old Church.
"Something than beauty dearer."
A Tale found in the Repositories of the Abbots of the Middle Ages.
The Sea.
Fashion.
A Growl.
To Jenny Lind.
My Herbarium.
The Ostrich.
Cows.
The Home-Beacon.
The Fourth of July.
From the Papers of Reginald Ratcliffe, Esq.

AUTUMN LEAVES.

CHRISTMAS REVIVED.

It was six o'clock in the morning of last Thursday (Christmas
morning), when Nathan Stoddard, a young saddler, strode through the
vacant streets of one of our New England towns, hastening to begin his
work. The town is an old-fashioned one, and although the observance of
the ancient church festival is no longer frowned upon, as in years
past, yet it has been little regarded, especially in the church of
which Nathan is a member. As the saddler mounted the steps of his
shop, he felt the blood so rush along his limbs, and tingle in his
fingers, that he could not forbear standing without the door for a
moment, as if to enjoy the triumph of the warmth within him over the
cold morning air. The little stone church which Nathan attends stands
in the same square with his shop, and nearly opposite. It was closed,
as usual on Christmas day, and a recent snow had heaped the steps and
roof, and loaded the windows. Nathan thought that it looked uncommonly
beautiful in the softening twilight of the morning.

While Nathan stood musing, with his eyes fixed upon the church, he
became suddenly conscious that another figure had entered the square
upon the opposite side, and was walking hastily along. He turned his
eyes upon it, and was greatly surprised by its appearance. He saw a
tall old man, although a good deal stooping, with long, straight, and
very white hair falling over his shoulders, which was the more
conspicuous from the black velvet cap, as it appeared, that he wore,
and the close-fitting suit of pure black in which he was dressed, and
which seemed to Nathan almost to glisten and flash as the old man
tripped along. He had hardly begun to speculate as to who the stranger
could be, when he beheld him turn in between the posts by the path
that leads to the church, tread lightly over the snow, and up the
steps, and knock hastily and vigorously at the church-door. But half
recovered from his wonder, he was just raising his voice to utter a
remonstrance, when, to his sevenfold amazement, the door was opened to
the knock,