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NBC Better Help Dotcom Deal NBC. Twas 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 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 and my cap and just settle down for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn or arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter, a way to the window. I flew in a flash and tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of new fallen snow gave the lustre of midday objects below.

And 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 what a moment it must be.

St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles. His courses. They came and he whistled and shouted. Call them by name. Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen on Comet. On Cupid. On down the bottom to the top of the porch to the top of the wall. Now dash away.

Dash away. Dash away all.

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky, so up to the house housetop his courses, they flew with a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas to and then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my hand and was turning around down the chimney, St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was all dressed in fur from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot, a bundle of toys it flung on his back and he looked just like a peddler, opening his pack.

His eyes how they twinkled. His dimples on Mary's cheeks were like roses. His nose, like a cherry, is droll. Little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was white as the snow, the stump of a pipe. He held tight in his teeth and the smoke. It encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a round little belly that shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. He was chubby and plump, 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 up the chimney.

He rose.

He sprang to a 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 goodnight.