I-XII

On Christmas morning, when I got down to
the kitchen, the men were just coming in from
their morning chores -- the horses and pigs
always had their breakfast before we did.
Jake and Otto shouted "Merry Christmas!" a
to me, and winked at each other when they
saw the waffle-irons on the stove. Grandfather
came down, wearing a white shirt and his
Sunday coat. Morning prayers were longer
than usual. He read the chapters from St.
Matthew about the birth of Christ, and as
we listened it all seemed like something that
had happened lately, and near at hand. In his
prayer he thanked the Lord for the first
Christmas, and for all that it had meant to the
world ever since. He gave thanks for our food
and comfort, and prayed for the poor and
destitute in great cities, where the struggle
for life was harder than it was here with us.
Grandfather's prayers were often very inter-
esting. He had the gift of simple and moving
expression. Because he talked so little, his
words had a peculiar force; they were not

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