ad our precious letters when the clock struck
twelve, and with much solemnity my companion and I presented each
other with our modest Christmas present--which each had announced that
she wanted and had helped to select! But, then, who would not rather
select one's own Christmas presents, and so be sure of getting things
that one wants?

On Christmas morning registered packages began to arrive for both of
us. The first ten presents to arrive for my companion were
pocket-handkerchiefs. My first ten were all books. Evidently the dear
family had thought that American books would be most acceptable over
here, and I could see, with a feeling that warmed my heart, how
carefully they had consulted my taste, and had tried to remember to
send those I wanted. But I am of a frugal mind, and thoughts of the
extra luggage to be paid on bound books would intrude themselves.
However, I made no remark over the first ten, but before the day was
over I had received twenty-two books and one pen-wiper, and my
vocabulary was exhausted. My companion continued to receive
handkerchiefs until the room was full of them. Take it all together,
there was a good deal of sameness about our presents, but they have
been useful as dinner anecdotes ever since. Now that I have sent all
mine to be stored at Munroe's, together with all my other necessities,
I feel lighter and more buoyant both in mind and trunk.

A Christmas dinner in a foreign land, in the midst of the diplomatic
corps, is the most undiplomatic thing in the world, for that is the
one time when you can cease to be diplomatic and dare to criticise the
government and make personal remarks to your heart's content.

It was a beautiful dinner, and after it was over we were all invited
to the children's entertainment at Mrs. Squiers's. She had gathered
about fifty of the American colony for Christmas carols and a tree.
Immediately after the ambassador arrived the children marched in and
recited in chorus the verses about the birth of Christ, beginning,
"Now in the days of Herod the King." Then they sang their carols, and
then "Stille Nacht," and they sang them beautifully, in their sweet,
childish voices.

After these exercises the doors were thrown open, and the most
beautiful Christmas-tree I ever beheld burst upon the view of those
children, who nearly went wild with delight.

After everybody had gone home except "the diplomatic family," which
for the time being included us, we picnicked