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'Twas the night before Christmas, not a creature stirred. Stockings were hung with care, in hopes of St. Nicholas. The children were nestled in bed, dreaming of sugarplums. Suddenly, a clatter on the roof, it was St. Nick in a sleigh with reindeer. He delivered toys and disappeared with a wink. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! Twas the night before Christmas, when 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 soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads. And Mama in her kerchief, and I in my cap, had just saddled our brains for a long winter's nap. When out on the roof, there was across such a clatter, 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 the last twirl of the midday to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer. With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles, his coursers 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, now dash away, dash away, dash away all. As dry leaves that before the wind hurricanes fly, when they met with an obstacle, mounted to the sky. So up in the housetop of the coursers, they flew with a sleigh full of toys in St. Nicholas too. And then a twinkling 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 how merry, his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry. His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook when he left, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him in spite of 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 turned with a jerk, and laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, out of the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.