republic a bright little picture card of a gentleman in Georgian costume
drinking ale by a roaring fire of logs. None in his senses, I say, would
emit such sophistries, for Christmas is a law unto itself and is not
conducted by card-index. Even the postmen and shopgirls, severe though
their labors, would not have matters altered. There is none of us who does
not enjoy hardship and bustle that contribute to the happiness of
others.

There is an efficiency of the heart that transcends and contradicts that
of the head. Things of the spirit differ from things material in that
the more you give the more you have. The comedian has an immensely
better time than the audience. To modernize the adage, to give is more
fun than to receive. Especially if you have wit enough to give to those
who don't expect it. Surprise is the most primitive joy of humanity.
Surprise is the first reason for a baby's laughter. And at Christmas
time, when we are all a little childish I hope, surprise is the flavor
of our keenest joys. We all remember the thrill with which we once
heard, behind some closed door, the rustle and crackle of paper parcels
being tied up. We knew that we were going to be surprised--a delicious
refinement and luxuriant seasoning of the emotion!

Christmas, then, conforms to this deeper efficiency of the heart. We are
not methodical in kindness; we do not "fill orders" for consignments of
affection. We let our kindness ramble and explore; old forgotten
friendships pop up in our minds and we mail a card to Harry Hunt, of
Minneapolis (from whom we have not heard for half a dozen years), "just
to surprise him." A business man who shipped a carload of goods to a
customer, just to surprise him, would soon perish of abuse. But no one
ever refuses a shipment of kindness, because no one ever feels
overstocked with it. It is coin of the realm, current everywhere. And we