CLIFTON - When Jim Chesley moved to Clifton almost 30 years ago, the town was old and dying.

Many of its buildings were boarded up and abandoned. The town in the far reaches of Fairfax County was surrounded by farmland and well off the beaten path, 25 miles southwest of Washington, when 25 miles from the District was far beyond the suburbs. Clifton was quiet with almost no outside traffic, except for those curious enough to come look for this peculiar little ghost town.

"The town had been forgotten," said Chesley. "A bunch of guys my age, in our late 20s and early 30s, started buying houses. We moved here and started fixing up the town."

Today, Clifton is still old and still a curiosity, but it's far from dead. In fact, it's hard to believe - if one's frame of reference is the community's annual Christmas celebration - that Clifton, a town of 250, was ever on the brink of ruin.

Follow the crowd into one of the splendidly refurbished homes on the candlelight house tour and marvel at the mix of history and style; listen to the voices of the full-throated choirs resounding from the town's churches; stand in the toe-numbing cold, as day turns into night, with a multitude of grown-ups and children gathered around the village Christmas tree, singing carols.

This is a town with a strong, unmistakable heartbeat.

"It's fun," said Jacquie Lambertson, of living in Clifton. Earlier in the day, she handed out cookies and hot chocolate at her Noodles & Noggins toy shop. The cozy little store was brimming with educational and specialty toys - as well as a chalkboard listing the names, weights and birth dates of local babies born in recent months.

"I've lived here 10 years, and I've really enjoyed it," said

Lambertson, who quit her corporate job when her daughter was born to go into the toy business. "I grew up in New England, and it reminds me a lot of New England. It's quirky."

. . .

With its picket fences and old-fashioned downtown with a railroad track running through it, Clifton looks like something Norman Rockwell might have painted. In some ways, though, Clifton is where Mayberry meets the West Wing.

There was the time, a couple of years ago, when the town was in an uproar over allegations the soda machine in town hall was stocked with cold beer. Jay Leno joked about that one.

Then there was the investigation this year by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. The town had been making a profit buying federally owned foreclosed homes elsewhere in Virginia, paying to fix them up and then selling them at below-market value to people who otherwise could not afford them. The innovative approach helped the town avoid levying real estate taxes on its residents, but it troubled HUD, which suspended the town's participation in its home-purchasing program.

Smack-dab in the middle of everything is Chesley, 58, who has served as mayor for a dozen years. A longtime civilian Navy employee who works at the Naval Surface Warfare Center in West Bethesda, Md., Chesley has played an aggressive role in the town's robust rebirth, and on more than a few occasions has found himself at odds with somebody.

He's had to win hotly contested elections, including one last May when he defeated Judy McNamara, a flower shop owner, by a single vote. It was quite a comeback for Chesley, who missed the candidate-filing deadline and had to run a write-in campaign for re-election.

Nothing like a little political intrigue among friends.

"Clifton's a typical small town," said Tom McNamara, 57, Judy's husband, proprietor of the Clifton General Store and a former failed mayoral candidate himself. He lost to Chesley by 14 votes two years ago. "Everybody knows everybody else here. It's kind of nice to know your neighbors . . . and just to watch out for one another.

"I have four kids, and they couldn't wait to get out of here. But one of the first things they had to do when they got to college was to bring their roommates here and show them this quaint little town where they lived."

McNamara sells a little of everything in his store, from fresh-grilled sandwiches to souvenir Clifton mugs. Over the cash register hangs the Clifton Nosy Neighbor board, or CNN for short. All the town news - that's fit to print.

"We're kind of the crossroads of the community," said McNamara of his store's location on Main Street by the railroad tracks, "so we know everything." He smiled, "There are some things we can't put up there."

. . .

No problem publishing this: Clifton knows how to throw a holiday party.

On the second Saturday of December, the Clifton Horse Society kicked the season off with a parade through town. Horses decked out in bells and greenery - and an occasional pair of felt antlers - jingled through the streets. Their riders looked pretty sharp, too, dressed as elves, wise men and Santa Claus himself. An appaloosa called Tippy carried a human Christmas tree, with bows, beads and a gold star on top.

"I add something to it every year," said Jean Voss, clutching the prize for the "Best Tree" in the parade.

Then it was on to the house tour, a tradition that gives homeowners a chance to show off their decorated dwellings, some of which are more than a century old. This year's walking tour included five homes, from fancy Victorian to cozy rustic. Tickets were $15. The steaming hot cider was free. Organizers sold their original allotment of 500 tickets, printed 200 more and sold them, too. Proceeds go into the town treasury, with some of the money earmarked for planters, flowers and other beautification measures, said Jennifer Chesley, co-chairwoman of the tour and the mayor's wife.

During the tour, three of the town's churches opened their sanctuaries for Christmas programs.

At the Clifton Presbyterian Church, the Robinson Singers of the Robinson Secondary School performed holiday classics with flair. At Clifton Baptist, the children's choir of Burke Community Church presented an updated Christmas story, complete with Joseph, Mary and the baby Jesus, portrayed by someone's doll.

Song poured from the Primitive Baptist Church, a small, simple structure filled with harmony and history. In the 1860s, landowner William Beckwith died, freeing his slaves and leaving them 200 acres. The church was built on that land by the former slaves and their children. Inside today are the original altar, potbellied stove and handmade heart-pine pews.

The church is no longer used every Sunday but is a favorite place for special occasions and dynamic choral performances by such groups as the choir from nearby Second Baptist Church, whose gospel music shook the old house of worship. Anyone who entered the chilled, dimly lit church without the Christmas spirit most assuredly left filled with it.

"This is good fellowship," said Thomas Dodson, 59, the choir's booming soloist, during a break. "This is a glorious community."

Dodson grew up on the other side of Fairfax County but now lives in Silver Spring, Md. He makes the long drive several times a week to Second Baptist, which was his wife's church. She was baptized in a creek just across the Clifton railroad tracks.

Coming to Clifton "brings back a lot of memories," said Dodson, particularly since he doesn't recognize the part of the county where he grew up. "Where I used to run around barefoot," he said, is covered with half-million-dollar homes.

Dodson sang a hymn about going home.

"Praise the Lord!" said someone in the ancient pews.

. . .

Darkness fell and the lights strung on Clifton's picket fences twinkled, as townspeople and visitors ambled along the town's narrow sidewalks. The last stop of the day was Ayre Square, for the lighting of the town's Christmas tree. The 8-foot blue spruce is modest as town Christmas trees go, but the original tree - many times as tall - died of disease and had to be taken down. A new town tree, towering above 20 feet and donated by a homeowner outside Clifton, was on the way, but for now the 8-footer would do.

While they waited, children roasted marshmallows over two small fires near the darkened tree. When the time came for the mayor to turn on the tree lights, the countdown began: 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 . . .

Chesley flipped the switch. Nothing.

Then laughter. Small towns laugh at themselves a lot better than big cities.

After a minute, someone discovered the problem and plugged in the lights. Cast in a brilliant glow, the gathering applauded. Then a resident with a marvelous singing voice was summoned to stand next to the tree and lead the crowd in a few carols.

"We Wish You a Merry Christmas" never rang so true.