arth, their mother. The starlings
were whistling as cheerily as if spring was come, and a solitary
missel-thrush was diligently practising a Christmas ditty on the bare
branches of the hawthorn.

"A merry Christmas, Mother Hubbard!" I called through the open window,
with such unwonted vigour that the old lady, whose toilet was not
completed, flung a shawl hastily around her shoulders, only to be
reassured by my hearty laugh.

Over the breakfast table we drew up the day's programme. It was no
difficult task. Mother Hubbard would occupy the morning in preparing
the great dinner, and from these preparations I was to be rigorously
excluded. To my old friend this was a holy-day, but one to be marked
by a sacrificial offering of exceptional magnitude, she being the High
Priestess who alone might enter into the mysteries; but I did not mind,
seeing that I was to be allowed to do my part in consuming the
sacrifice.

The afternoon was to be devoted to rest, and in the evening we were to
go to Farmer Goodenough's, where the youngsters were already wild in
anticipation of the glories of a Christmas-tree.

So I was dismissed to "make the beds" and dust my own room, and having
done this I went to church in the temple which is not made with hands.
I had intended going to Fawkshill, but the angels of God met me on the
way, and turned me aside into the fields which lead to Marsland. When
I reached the wood I knelt on the soft, thick carpet of fallen leaves
and said my prayers amid the solitude, with the running brook for music
and all Nature for priest.

What a loud voice Nature has to those who have ears to hear, yet withal
how sweet and forceful. They tell us that if our faculties were less
dull we should hear in every stem and twig and blade of grass the
throbbing of the engines and the whir and clatter of the looms which go
on day and night unceasingly. It is well for us that we are not so
highly tuned, but it is also well if our spiritual perceptions are keen
enough to find tongues in trees and sermons in stones, and to interpret
their language. I am but a dunce as yet, but I have learned one thing
since I came to this northern school--I have learned to listen, and I
am beginning to understand something of what God has to teach us by the
mouth of his dumb prophets. Anyhow, I went home with peace in my heart
and goodwill to all men; also with a mighty hunger.

The menu was roast turkey and plum pudding, to be follow