winds and sunshine
of heaven."

In another moment, however, he was all cheerfulness. "You have brought
me a Christmas present," cried he, "and we must make it a Christmas
holiday indeed. Here is the beginning:" and with one of his old grave
smiles, he handed Bertram a little note which had been awaiting him on
the library table. "But Paula and Miss Belinda must have their pleasure
too. Paula, are you too tired for a ride down town? I will show you New
York on a Christmas eve," continued he to Miss Walton, seeing that
Paula's attention was absorbed by the expression of sudden and moving
surprise which had visited Bertram's face, upon the perusal of his note.
"It is a stirring sight. Nothing more cheering can be found the wide
world over, for those who have a home and children to make happy."

"I certainly should enjoy a glimpse of holiday cheer," assented Miss
Belinda. And Paula recalled to herself by the sound of her aunt's voice,
gayly re-echoed her assertion.

So Samuel was despatched for a carriage, and in a few minutes they were
all riding down Fifth Avenue, _en route_ for Tiffany's, Macy's, and any
other store that might offer special attractions. It was a happy
company. As they rolled along, Paula felt her heart grow lighter and
lighter, Mr. Sylvester was almost gay, while even Aunt Belinda
condescended to be merry. Bertram alone was silent, but as Paula caught
short glimpses of his face, while speeding past some illuminated corner,
she felt that it was that silence which is "the perfectest herald of
joy."

"I shall make you get out and mix with the crowd," said Mr. Sylvester.
"I want you to feel the throb of the great heart of the city on such a
night as this. It is as if all men were brothers--or fathers, I should
say. People that ordinarily pass each other without a sign, nod and
smile with pleasing recognition of the evening's cheer. Grave and
reverend seigniors, are not ashamed to be seen carrying packages by the
dozen. Indeed, he who is most laden is considered the best fellow, and
he who is so unfortunate as to show nothing but empty arms, feels shy if
not ashamed; a condition of mind into which I shall soon fall myself, if
we do not presently reach our destination."

Paula never forgot that night. As from the midst of our common-place
memories, some one hour stands out distinct and strange, like a sweet
foreigner in a crowd of village faces, so to Paula, this ride through
the lighted streets, with th