It was the night 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, in hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be there. The children were nestled, all snug in their bed, while visions of sugar plums danced in their head. When out on the lawn there rose such a chatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave a luster of midday to the objects below. From what to my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer. It was a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in an instant, it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles, his courses they came, and he whistled and shouted, and called them by name. Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen, on Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen, to the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, and I dashed away, dashed away, dashed away all. And then in a twinkle I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all 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 like a peddler, just opening his pack. His eyes how they twinkled, his dimples so merry, his cheeks were rosy, and his nose like a cherry. His round little mouth was drawn up like a bowl, and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, and spied 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. Then he turned with a jerk, and lined his finger the side of his nose, and gave a nod up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight, Merry Christmas you all, and to all a good night.