d screwed their faces as if
they were trying to hide behind themselves, while the wind blew through
every crevice of their bodies and rattled the teeth in their mouths.

One of these little boys upon this very Christmas eve hung up his
stocking, and what became of it is now to be told. His name was Peter
Mit. He had been out all day selling cigars, and was on his way home to
supper. But hungry and cold as he was, he could not help stopping to
look through the shop-windows at the beautiful things spread out so
temptingly behind them. Such toys and games and picture books! "Now,"
said he, "I must run;" but just as he started, he came to a window so
much finer than any he had seen that he stopped before this also. There
was a string fastened across the inside of the window with picture and
story papers hung upon it; the glass was not very clear, for the frost
made it almost like crown-glass, but it was clear enough in the corner
to shew one of the pictures, which was a double one; in one part there
was a little boy in his night-gown hanging a stocking upon the door of
his bed-chamber; in the other part the little boy is shown snugly asleep
in his bed, while a most odd little man hung over with toys and picture
books of all kinds stands on tip-toe before the stocking, filling it
with playthings. There was some printing underneath that explained the
picture; as well as Peter could make out, this little boy like a great
many others hung up his stocking before he went to bed on Christmas eve,
and some time during the night, Santa Klaus, a queer old man, very fond
of little folk, came down the chimney and filled the stocking with
presents. This was all new to little Peter, and astonished him
exceedingly; but it was really too cold to stand there looking at even
the most wonderful picture, so he blew into his red fist, and ran off
home, taking long slides on the ice wherever he could.

He left the bright Main Street and turning one or two corners came to
Fountain Court. That is a fine-sounding name, but the houses are very
wretched and low, though quite grand people lived there in olden times;
where the fountain was no one could say, unless the wheezy pump that
stands at the head of the court were meant for it; of this the Pump
itself had no doubt. It was very large and had a long heavy handle that
always stood out stiffly; there was a knob on the top of the pump that
had once been gilded but that was a long time ago, when the P