produced their share of the profound impression, for every emotion that
disturbed his easily-excited soul found a reflection therein.

That the colonel openly preferred our six-year-old Hermy to his brothers
and sisters was due to the circumstance that the child had once burst
into tears at a look from the officer, which the latter employed to call
the children to order, if they were inattentive, or exhibited signs of
unbelief when he had not expected it. After this Hermy was so evidently
his darling that there was no further chance for Hermy's younger sister,
who had at first promised to be the favourite, and I shall never forget
the soft, almost motherly, caressing tones that came from that grey-
bearded man with the large round head and strong face, when he sought to
comfort the child.

It was remarkable to see how easily this man, who was accustomed to
obedience, and famous for his bravery and keen energy, could become a
child among children. He had lost a beloved wife, a little son, about
Hermy's age, and a young daughter, and no doubt our numerous family
reminded him of these departed ones. As for his tales, he separated them
into distinct categories. Some of them he began with the words: "Here I
am," and then he held himself strictly to the truth. Others began: "Once
upon a time." While the former were drawn mostly from his own full and
eventful life, the latter were fairy stories, pure and simple, sometimes
already well known, sometimes made up, wherein fairies, ghosts, elves,
gnomes, goblins and dragons, will-o'-the-wisps, nixies, kelpies and
dwarfs disported themselves.

Christmas was approaching, and the next day, Christmas-eve, the tree was
to be lighted. On the twenty-third of December, a little while before
the hour for story-telling, Hermy came home, and exhibited to his