Around the tea-table . s in the windowseem to know they are on exhibition. If we wouldonce in a while romp the fields, we would not haveso many last years rose leaves in our sermons,but those just plucked, dewy and redolent. We cannot see the natural world through thebooks or the eyes of others. All this talk about babbling brooks is a stereotyped never babble. To babble is to be unin- 200 AROUND THE TEA-TABLE. telligent and imperfect of tongue. But when thebrooks speak, they utter lessons of beauty thatthe dullest ear can understand. We have wan-dered from the Androscoggin in Ma
Around the tea-table . s in the windowseem to know they are on exhibition. If we wouldonce in a while romp the fields, we would not haveso many last years rose leaves in our sermons,but those just plucked, dewy and redolent. We cannot see the natural world through thebooks or the eyes of others. All this talk about babbling brooks is a stereotyped never babble. To babble is to be unin- 200 AROUND THE TEA-TABLE. telligent and imperfect of tongue. But when thebrooks speak, they utter lessons of beauty thatthe dullest ear can understand. We have wan-dered from the Androscoggin in Maine to theTombigbee in Alabama, and we never found abrook that babbled. The people babble whotalk about them, not knowing what a brook have heard about the nightingale and themorning lark till we tire of them. Catch foryour next prayer-meeting talk a chewink or abrown thresher. It is high time that we hoist ourchurch-windows, especially those over the pulpit,and let in some fresh air from the fields CHAPTER XXXI. CHRISTMAS BELLS. THE sexton often goes into the tower on a saderrand. He gives a strong pull at the rope,and forth from the tower goes a dismal sound thatmakes the heart sink. But he can now go up theold stairs with a lithe step and pull quick andsharp, waking up all the echoes of cavern and hillwith Christmas bells. The days of joy have come,days of reunion, days of congratulation. BeholdI bring you good tidings of great joy that shall beto all people. First, let the bells ring at the birth of Jesus!Mary watching, the camels moaning, the shepherdsrousing up, the angels hovering, all Bethlehemstirring. What a night! Out of its black wingis plucked the pen from which to write the bright-est songs of earth and the richest doxologies ofheaven. Let camel or ox stabled that night inBethlehem, after the burden-bearing of the day,stand and look at Him who is to carry the burdensof the world. Put back the straw and hear thefirst cry of Him who is come to a
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