Old Merry

Summary

Old Merry Our Christmas party (1867)

Under the moonlit sky of Yule, with Yule stars looking down like eyes of forgiving love, and Yule zephyrs winnowing by like the rustle of angel-wings, when they hurry to earth with Christmas messages of peace and good will, of mercy and pardon; with Yule frost glittering upon the heath, Doya and her children returned to their home; and when Rassmie clung to her neck, and Hermann’s head nestled on her bosom, while Tronda’s sweet voice whispered, “You have us, mother,” Doya’s sorely tried heart was comforted.
Source: Gutenberg

Old Merry Our Christmas party (1867)

There are loud-voiced tempestuous waves and anger-tossed foam, which lift themselves wildly up, as if in their insolent pride they would mingle with the low-lying clouds. There are grey gaunt cliffs frowning over the black water, and there are bare dreary-looking hills, with here and there a solitary cottage, standing unsheltered by tree or wall. It is not a pleasant scene, although, for some folks, it may have a weird beauty of its own. This snow is not like the gentle feathery flakes which robe your naked Christmas boughs in a robe of heavenly white.
Source: Gutenberg

Old Merry Our Christmas party (1867)

One of the latter particularly attracted Tronda’s girlish fancy, and at her desire the boat entered the rock-hewn hall, whose tinted walls gave back a thousand silvery echoes of the splashing oars. It was a vast cavern into which the boat had entered, and the further she went the wider and more extensive seemed the boundaries of that ocean home. Even Doya’s broken spirit seemed to share in the enthusiasm of the young people, whose exclamations of rapture mingled with the shrill cry of the brooding sea fowl, and the whispering of the billows.
Source: Gutenberg

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