shore was seen, with groves of trees, fan-shaped and curious; with rivers whose waters bore fleets of strange misshapen boats, in whose masts hung many-colored lanterns; and cities of odd build, whose spires and pinnacles were noisy with bells. But neither here did the sledge stop. Once only it dipped, and deposited a package in a modest dwelling. 'A Missionary lives there,' said the Saint. 'This is China. Don't you smell the tea?'
"On and on for hundred of leagues. No stay, no errand. St. Nicholas looked sad, for all his round face. 'So many little children,' he muttered, 'and none of them mine!' And then he cheered again, as, reining his deer upon a hut amid the frozen snows of Siberia, he left a rude toy for an exile's child. 'Dear little thing!' he said, 'she will smile in the morning when she wakes.'
"And now the air grew warm and soft. Great cities were below them, and groves of flowering trees. Some balmy fragrance wrapped the land.
