a happy heart, to his cabin. Soon a fire was burning on his own
hearthstone, and the hounds were in their accustomed place. He drew
the table in front, where the fire's fine light fell on his work, and,
taking some green vines and branches from the basket, began to twine a
wreath. One he twined, and then he began another; and often, as he
twined the fadeless branches in, he paused, and long and lovingly
looked at the two pictures hanging on the wall; and when the wreaths
were twined, he hung them on the frames, and, standing in front of the
dumb reminders of his absent ones, he said, "I miss them so!"
[Illustration: Long and lovingly looked at the two pictures hanging on
the wall]
Ah! friend, dear friend, when life's glad day with you and me is
passed, when the sweet Christmas chimes are rung for other ears than
ours, when other hands set the green branches up, and other feet glide
down the polished floor, may there be those still left behind to twine
us wreaths, and say, "_We miss them so!_"
And this is the way John Norton the Trapper kept his Christmas.