It was a glorious Christmas morning, the sun was warm and bright, and the new snow lay white and sparkling upon the ground.
The chickadee and the snow-bird were singing away with might and main, children were drawing their sleds in the street, and all was joy and gladness.
I stood at my study window looking out, and enjoying the beauty of the old earth.
But presently I turned from the fair scene before me, and began looking at a painting on the wall. It was that marvelous picture of the sleeping shepherds of Bethany. There was the bright ladder of light upon which angels were descending to earth, and the child in the manger, and over its strange crib the wonderful star.
My heart grew warm as I looked, and thought of all that the birth of that child meant to us.
I was wondering how that young mother felt as she held the Saviour of the world to her breast, when I was conscious of a pathetic little wail, half whine and half bark, beneath the window.
