with a hushed delight, and, connecting them with the sacred and joyous
occasion, have almost fancied them into another celestial choir,
announcing peace and good-will to mankind.

How delightfully the imagination, when wrought upon by these moral
influences, turns everything to melody and beauty: The very crowing of
the cock, who is sometimes heard in the profound repose of the country,
"telling the night-watches to his feathery dames," was thought by the
common people to announce the approach of this sacred festival:

"Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome--then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time."

Amidst the general call to happiness, the bustle of the spirits, and
stir of the affections, which prevail at this period, what bosom can
remain insensible? It is, indeed, the season of regenerated feeling--the
season for kindling, not merely the fire of hospitality in the hall, but
the genial flame of charity in the heart.

The scene of early love again rises green to memory beyond the sterile
waste of years; and the idea of home, fraught with the fragrance of
home-dwelling joys, reanimates the drooping spirit,--as the Arabian
breeze will sometimes waft the freshness of the distant fields to the
weary pilgrim of the desert.