THE little sweet Child tied on her hood, and put on her warm cloak and
mittens. “I am going to the wood,” she said, “to tell the creatures all
about it. They cannot understand about Christmas, mamma says, and of
course she knows, but I do think they ought to know about New Year!”
Out in the wood the snow lay light and powdery on the branches, but
under foot it made a firm, smooth floor, over which the Child could
walk lightly without sinking in. She saw other footprints beside her
own, tiny bird-tracks, little hopping marks, which showed where a
rabbit had taken his way, traces of mice and squirrels and other little
wild-wood beasts.
The Child stood under a great hemlock-tree, and looked up toward the
clear blue sky, which shone far away beyond the dark tree-tops. She
spread her hands abroad and called, “Happy New Year! Happy New Year to
everybody in the wood, and all over the world!”
A rustling was heard in the hemlock branches, and a striped squirrel
peeped down at her. “What do you mean by that, little Child?” he asked.
And then from all around came other squirrels, came little field-mice,
and hares swiftly leaping, and all the winter birds, titmouse and
snow-bird, and many another; and they all wanted to know what the Child
meant by her greeting, for they had never heard the words before.
“It means that God is giving us another year!” said the Child. “Four
more seasons, each lovelier than the last, just as it was last year.
Flowers will bud, and then they will blossom, and then the fruit will
hang all red and golden on the branches, for birds and men and
little children to eat.” “And squirrels, too!” cried the chipmunk,
eagerly.
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“Of course!” said the Child. “Squirrels, too, and every creature that
lives in the good green wood. And this is not all! We can do over again
the things that we tried to do last year, and perhaps failed in doing.
We have another chance to be good and kind, to do little loving things
that help, and to cure ourselves of doing naughty things. Our hearts
can have lovely new seasons, like the flowers and trees and all the
sweet things that grow and bear leaves and fruit. I thought I would
come and tell you all this, because sometimes one does not think of
things till one hears them from another’s lips. Are you glad I came? If
you are glad, say Happy New Year! each in his own way! I say it to you
all now in my way. Happy New Year! Happy New Year!”
Such a noise as broke out then had never been heard in the wood since
the oldest hemlock was a baby, and that was a long time ago. Chirping,
twittering, squeaking, chattering! The wood-doves lit on the Child’s
shoulder and cooed in her ear, and she knew just what they said. The
squirrels made a long speech, and meant every word of it, which is more
than people always do; the field-mouse said that she was going to turn
over a new leaf, the very biggest cabbage-leaf she could find; while
the titmouse invited the whole company to dine with him, a thing he had
never done in his life before.
When the Child turned to leave the wood, the joyful chorus followed
her, and she went, smiling, home and told her mother all about it.
“And, mother,” she said, “I should not be surprised if they had got a
little bit of Christmas, after all, along with their New Year!”