To us tonight before Christmas, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, the stockings were hung by the chimney with care and hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled, all snug in their beds, well visions of sugar plums danced in their heads, and mom and her Kirchiff and I and my cap had just settled down for a long winter's nap when, out on the lawn, or rose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew in a flash and tore up in the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of new fallen snow gave the luster of midday objects below, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature slay, an eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, a new in a moment it must be, St. Nick, more rapid than eagles as cautious as they came, and he whistled and shouted, called him by name.

Now dash her, now dancer, now prancer and vixen on, comet on cupid on donder and blitzen, to the top of the porch, to the top of the wall.

Now dash away, dash away, dash away all. As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly when they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky, so up to the house top, his courses they flew, with a slay full of toys and St. Nicholas too, and then in a twinkling I heard on the roof, a prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came, with a bound.

He was all dressed in fur from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot, a bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked just like a peddler opening his pack.

His eyes, how they twinkled his dimples, how merry, his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry, his drooled little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was white as a snow.

The stump of the pipe, he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke, it had circled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a round little belly that shook when he laughed like a bullful of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings, and turned with a jerk, and laying his finger, a sight of his nose, and giving a nod up the chimney.

He rose, he sprang to his sleigh, to his team, gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, air he drove out of sight, happy Christmas to all, and to all, good night.