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What a strange thing! Nothing is coming to us, no change in any respect in the routine of our lives but what we make ourselves, -- and yet the day looms so large and magnificent before us! I suppose the greatest festivals of our lives are those at which we dance ourselves . . . This is the true Christmas land. The day should be dark, the house further overshadowed by the woods, tall and black. And there in the midst of that somber, dreadful gloom the Christmas tree should blaze in glory unrivaled by moon or sun or star.