Excerpt from Christmas to-Day
In this latitude Christmas Eve often falls on a still, cold night that heightens the cheer of the open fire. The hearth is the very heart of the house; other things may be beautiful in themselves and in the memories they keep fresh; but the hearth radiates motion, colour, warmth. The life of forgotten summers, distilled into fibre and sap and stored up in cells that open with petulant protests and send tiny streamers of colour into the genial blaze, gives its last residuum of vitality as an offering of the friendliness of Nature to man.
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