{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_17770/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_17770","id":"gutenberg_17770","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17770","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Christmas","Christmas stories"],"text":"Produced by Stacy Brown Thellend, Barbara Tozier, Bill\nTozier and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS STORIES\nAND LEGENDS\n\n\nCOMPILED BY\nPHEBE A. CURTISS\n\nAuthor of \"White Gifts\nfor the King\"\n\n\n\n\nMEIGS PUBLISHING CO.\nINDIANAPOLIS, IND.\n\n\nCopyright 1916\n\nBY\n\nMEIGS PUBLISHING CO.\nIndianapolis, Indiana\n\n\n\n\nFOREWORD\n\n\nNo greater teaching force has ever been discovered than the story and\nno one has ever lived who used that force so skillfully as did our\nGreat Teacher.\n\nIt is not strange, then, that among all the stories that have ever\nbeen written or told none are so dear to us as the stories and legends\nwhich center in His birth.\n\nYoung and old alike delight in them and never tire of hearing them.\n\nUnusual care has been taken in compiling this little volume and each\nstory has its own sweet lesson. Each one is from the pen of one who\nhas imbibed the real spirit of Christmas. They were chosen as being\nparticularly well adapted to use in connection with the Christmas\nService \"White Gifts for the King,\" but they will prove attractive and\nhelpful at any time during the year.\n\nIt is our earnest wish that this little book may find its way into\nmany homes and schools and Sunday Schools and that its contents may\nhelp to give a deeper appreciation of the true Christmas spirit.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n                                                              Page\n    I. The Legend of the \"White Gifts\"--Phebe A. Curtiss         9\n\n   II. Her Birthday Dream--Nellie C. King                       13\n\n  III. The Fir Tree--Hans Andersen--adapted by J. H. Stickney   25\n\n   IV. The Little Match Girl--Hans Andersen                     37\n\n    V. Little Piccola--Nora A. Smith                            41\n\n   VI. The Shepherd's Story--Dr. Washington                     47\n\n  VII. The Story of Christmas--Nora A. Smith                    63\n\n VIII. The Legend of the Christmas Tree--Lucy Wheelock          69\n\n   IX. Little Jean--French of Francois Coppe. Translated by\n       Nannie Lee Frayser                                       71\n\n    X. How the Fir Tree Became the Christmas Tree--Aunt Hede\n       in Kindergarten Magazine                                 77\n\n   XI. The Magi in the West and Their Search for the\n       Christ--Frederick E. Dewhurst                            79\n\n  XII. Little Gretchen and the Wooden Shoe--Elizabeth\n       Harrison                                                 93\n\n XIII. The Little Shepherd--Maud Lindsay                       105\n\n  XIV. Babouscka--Carolyn S. Bailey                            109\n\n   XV. The Boy with the Box--May Griggs Van Voorhis            113\n\n  XVI. The Worker in Sandal wood--Marjorie L. C. Pickthall     125\n\n XVII. The Shepherd Who Didn't Go--Jay T. Stocking             135\n\nXVIII. Paulina's Christmas--Adapted from Anna Robinson's\n       \"Little Paulina\"                                        145\n\n  XIX. Unto Us a Child Is Born--Phebe A. Curtiss               153\n\n   XX. The Star--Florence M. Kingsley                          159\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF THE \"WHITE GIFTS\"\n\nAs Told by Phebe A. Curtiss\n\n\nA great many years ago in a land far away from us there was a certain\nking who was dearly beloved by all of his people. Men admired him\nbecause he was strong and just. In all of his dealings they knew they\ncould depend upon him. Every matter that came to his consideration was\ncarefully weighed in his mind and his decisions were always wise.\nWomen trusted him because he was pure and true, with lofty thoughts\nand high ambitions, and the children loved him because of his\ngentleness and tenderness toward them. He was never so burdened with\naffairs of state that he could not stop to speak a pleasant word of\ngreeting to the tiniest child, and the very poorest of his subjects\nknew they could count upon his interest in them.\n\nThis deep-seated love and reverence for their king made the people of\nthis country wish very much for a way in which to give expression to\nit so that he would understand it. Many consultations were held and\none after another the plans suggested were rejected, but at last a\nmost happy solution was found. It was rapidly circulated here and\nthere and it met with the most hearty approval everywhere.\n\nIt was a plan for celebrating the King's birthday.\n\nOf course, that had been done in many lands before, but there were\ncertain features about this celebration which differed materially from\nanything that had ever been tried. They decided that on the King's\nbirthday the people should all bring him gifts, but they wanted in\nsome way to let him know that these gifts were the expression of a\nlove on the part of the giver which was pure and true and unselfish,\nand in order to show that, it was decided that each gift should be a\n\"White Gift.\"\n\nThe King heard about this beautiful plan, and it touched his heart in\na wonderful way. He decided that he would do his part to carry out the\nidea and let his loving subjects know how much he appreciated their\nthoughtfulness.\n\nYou can just imagine the excitement there was all over the land as the\nKing's birthday drew near. All sorts of loving sacrifices had been\nmade and everyone was anxious to make his gift the very best he had to\noffer. At last the day dawned, and eagerly the people came dressed in\nwhite and carrying their white gifts. To their surprise they were\nushered into a great, big room--the largest one in the palace. They\nstood in silence when they first entered it, for it was beautiful\nbeyond all expression. It was a _white_ room;--the floor was white\nmarble; the ceiling looked like a mass of soft, white fluffy clouds;\nthe walls were hung with beautiful white silken draperies, and all the\nfurnishings were white. In one end of the room stood a stately white\nthrone, and seated upon it was their beloved ruler and he was clad in\nshining white robes, and his attendants--all dressed in white--were\ngrouped around him.\n\nThen came the presentation of the gifts. What a wealth of them there\nwas--and how different they were in value. In those days it was just\nas it is now--there were many people who had great wealth, and they\nbrought gifts which were generous in proportion to their wealth.\n\nOne brought a handful of pearls, another a number of carved ivories.\nThere were beautiful laces and silks and embroideries, all in pure\nwhite, and even splendid white chargers were brought to his majesty.\n\nBut many of the people were poor--some of them very poor--and their\ngifts were quite different from those I have been telling about. Some\nof the women brought handfuls of white rice, some of the boys brought\ntheir favorite white pigeons, and one dear little girl smilingly gave\nhim a pure white rose.\n\nIt was wonderful to watch the King as each one came and kneeled before\nhim as he presented his gift. He never seemed to notice whether the\ngift was great or small; he regarded not one gift above another so\nlong as all were white. Never had the King been so happy as he was\nthat day and never had such real joy filled the hearts of the people.\nThey decided to use the same plan every year, and so it came to pass\nthat year after year on the King's birthday the people came from here\nand there and everywhere and brought their white gifts--the gifts\nwhich showed that their love was pure, strong, true and without stain,\nand year after year the King sat in his white robes on the white\nthrone in the great white room and it was always the same--he regarded\nnot one gift above another so long as all were _white_.\n\n\n\n\nHER BIRTHDAY DREAM[*]\n\nBy Nellie C. King\n\n\nMarcia Brownlow came out of the church, and walked rapidly down the\nstreet. She seemed perturbed; her gray eyes flashed, and on her cheeks\nglowed two red spots. She was glad she was not going home, so she\nwouldn't have to take a car, but could walk the short distance to Aunt\nSophy's, where she had been invited to dine and visit with her special\nchum, Cousin Jack--who was home from college for the short\nThanksgiving vacation. She slowed up as she reached her destination,\nand waited a little before going in--she wanted to get calmed down a\nbit, for she didn't want her friend to see her when she felt so \"riled\nup.\" Back of it was a secret reluctance to meet Jack--he was so\ndifferent since the Gipsy Smith revival; of course, he was perfectly\nlovely, and unchanged toward her, but--somehow, she felt uncomfortable\nin his presence--and she didn't enjoy having her self-satisfaction\ndisturbed.\n\nAs she entered the dining-room, she was greeted with exclamations of\nsurprise and pleasure.\n\n\"Why, Marcia!\" said Aunt Sophia; \"we had given you up! I almost never\nknew of your being late in keeping an appointment.\"\n\n\"You must excuse me, Auntie; and lay this offense to the charge of our\nSunday school superintendent,\" answered Marcia.\n\n\"I suppose Mr. Robinson is laying his plans for Christmas,\" remarked\nUncle John. \"He believes in taking time by the forelock--and a very\ncommendable habit it is, too.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Marcia laconically.\n\nJack glanced at her keenly. \"Is there anything new in the Christmas\nline?\" he asked.\n\nThe gray eyes grew black, and the red spots burned again, as Marcia\nreplied: \"Well, I should think so--he proposes to turn things\ntopsy-turvy!\"\n\n\"My! What does he want to do?\" inquired Cousin Augusta.\n\n\"Oh, he calls it the 'White Gift Christmas'; but the long and short of\nthe matter is, that he proposes to 'turn down' Santa Claus, and all\nthe old time-honored customs connected with Christmas that are so dear\nto the hearts of the children, and have the school do the giving. He\nhas a big banner hung up in the Sunday school room bearing the words,\n'Gifts for the Christ-Child'.\"\n\n\"An excellent idea,\" exclaimed Uncle John, \"but I don't see much of an\ninnovation about that; you have always made the children's giving a\npart of your Christmas celebration, have you not?\"\n\n\"Certainly!\" rejoined Marcia. \"They have always brought their little\ngifts for the poor, and that is all right; but this time there are no\ngifts to the Sunday school at all.\"\n\n\"Not even to the Primary School?\" asked Augusta.\n\n\"Well,\" admitted Marcia, \"Mr. Robinson gave the children their choice\ntoday, whether they would have the old Christmas or the 'White Gift\nChristmas,' and they all voted for the new idea.\"\n\n\"Why then should the children be obliged to have gifts, if they don't\nwant them?\" laughed Augusta.\n\n\"Oh, children are always taken with novelty, and Mr. Robinson told it\nto them in such a way that fancy was captivated; but I don't think\nthey really understood what they were giving up.\"\n\n\"Marcia, it seems to me that your are emphasizing the wrong side of\nthe subject if I understand it aright,\" said Jack.\n\n\"Why, do you know about it?\" asked Marcia, in surprise.\n\n\"Not much,\" replied Jack; \"but I read the White Gift story in the\n'Sunday School Times,' and the report of the Painesville experiment.\"\n\n\"Well, Jack, tell us what you know about this mysterious 'White\nGift',\" commanded his father.\n\n\"I would rather Marcia should tell it, father; I know so little.\"\n\n\"Oh, go on, Jack,\" urged Marcia; \"you can't possibly know less about\nit than I do, for I confess I was so full of the disappointment of the\nlittle ones that the other side of it didn't impress me very much.\"\n\n\"Well, as I remember it,\" said Jack, \"the gist of the plan is\nthis--that Christmas is Christ's birthday, and we should make our\ngifts to him, instead of to one another; and the idea of the White\nGift was suggested by the story of the Persian king named Kublah Khan,\nwho was a wise and good ruler, and greatly beloved. On his birthday\nhis subjects kept what they called the 'White Feast.' This was\ncelebrated in an immense great white banqueting-hall, and each one of\nhis subjects brought to their king a white gift to express that the\nlove and loyalty of their hearts was without stain. The rich brought\nwhite chargers, ivory and alabaster; the poor brought white pigeons,\nor even a measure of rice; and the great king regarded all gifts\nalike, so long as they were white. Have I told it right, cousin?\"\nqueried Jack.\n\n\"Yes, I think so. It is a beautiful thought, I must confess, and might\nbe all right in a large, rich Sunday school; but in a mission school\nlike ours I am sure it will be a failure. It will end in our losing\nour scholars. I don't believe in taking up new ideas without\nconsidering whether they are adapted to our needs or not. But please,\ndear folkses, don't let us say anything more about it,\" pleaded\nMarcia, and so the subject was dropped.\n\nThat evening as Jack Thornton bade his cousin good-bye, he placed in\nher hand a little package, saying: \"I am so sorry, Marcia, that I\ncan't be here for your birthday, but here is my remembrance. Now don't\nyou dare open it before Tuesday, and, dear, you may be sure it is a\n'white gift,' and may you have a 'white birthday'.\" And before she\ncould say a word, he had opened the door, and was gone.\n\nTouched by his thoughtful gift and his words, she said to herself: \"A\n'white birthday!' I always have perfectly beautiful birthdays.\" And so\nshe did; for she was always looking out for other people's birthdays,\nand making much of them; and so she always got the gospel measure:\n\"Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and\nshaken together, and running over, shall man give into your bosom.\"\n\nBut these thoughts were crowded out by the pressure of things to be\ndone--father and mother had gone into the country to visit a sick\nfriend, and the younger brothers and sisters surrounded her and\nclamored for songs and Bible stories, and as she was a good older\nsister she devoted herself to them until their bedtime. Then, turning\nout the lights, she sat down in an easy chair before the library\ngrate, and yielded herself to the spell of the quiet hour. The\nstrained, irritated nerves relaxed, and a strange, sweet peace stole\nover her. As she gazed dreamily into the fire, a star seemed to rise\nout of the glowing coals, and beam at her with a beautiful soft\nradiance, and the words of the Evangel came into her mind: \"And when\nthey saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding joy; and when they\nwere come into the house they saw the young child, with Mary his\nmother, and they fell down and worshipped him; and when they had\nopened their treasures they presented unto him gifts, gold,\nfrankincense and myrrh.\" She repeated the words over and over to\nherself. How simple and restful they were; how direct and genuine and\nsatisfying was this old-time giving! There it was--Gifts for the\nChrist-Child--\"They presented unto him gifts, gold, frankincense and\nmyrrh.\" She remembered reading somewhere that the gold represented our\nearthly possessions, the frankincense typified our service and the\nmyrrh our suffering for his sake.\n\nAs she gazed into the fire, and mused, she fell asleep, and all these\nthoughts were woven into the fabric of a dream--and who shall say that\nGod does not speak to his children still in dreams?\n\nShe dreamed that it was the morning of her birthday. She heard cheery\nvoices in the hall calling out to one another: \"This is Marcia's\nbirthday. Wish you many returns of the day!\" There was an excited\nrunning to and fro between the different rooms, and gleeful\nexclamations--but no one came near her! She sat up in bed listening,\nand wondering what it could mean! Why, mother always came into her\nroom, and folded her to her heart, and said those precious things that\nonly a mother can say; and the children always scrambled to see who\nshould be the first to give sister a birthday kiss. Were they playing\nsome joke on her? She would be quiet and watch, and so not be taken\nunawares.\n\nPresently they went trooping happily downstairs into the dining-room,\nand she heard father's voice say: \"Good morning, children; I wish you\nmany happy returns of Marcia's birthday.\"\n\nWhat did it all mean? Was she going crazy? Or were they just going to\nsurprise her by some novel way of celebrating her birthday? She arose,\nand with trembling fingers dressed herself hastily, and stole softly\ndown the stairs, and looked into the dining-room. Hush!--father was\nasking a blessing. He returned thanks for dear Marcia's birthday, and\nasked that it should be a happy day for them all. Beside each plate\nsave her own, were various packages; and these were opened amid\nejaculations of surprise and pleasure, and sundry hugs and kisses.\n\nAfter the first burst of happiness had subsided, Marcia braced herself\nand entered the dining-room, saying with forced gayety: \"Good morning,\ndear ones all.\" They looked up with blank, unanswering faces, and\nsaid: \"Good morning, Marcia\"--that was all. But Marcia's heart leaped\nat the recognition of her presence, for she had begun to fear that she\nwas dead, and that it was her spirit that was wandering about.\n\nShe stooped and kissed her mother, who murmured abstractedly, \"Yes,\ndear,\" never once looking up from the presents she was examining. With\na sinking heart she turned away from her mother and went and stood\nbehind her father's chair, and leaning over whispered in his ear:\n\"Dear father, have you forgotten that this is my birthday?\" He\nanswered kindly but absent-mindedly: \"Why, daughter, am I likely to\nforget it with all these tokens around me?\"--and he waved his hand\ntoward the gifts piled around his plate. This was almost more than\nMarcia could bear, for father was always specially tender and\nattentive to her on her birthday. She always sat on his knee a while;\nand he told her what a joy and comfort she was to him, and he always\npaid her some pretty compliment that made her girlish heart swell with\ninnocent pride, for every girl knows that compliments from one's\nfather are a little sweeter than any others.\n\nIn vain she hung around waiting for some clue to this mysterious,\nunnatural conduct of the family. They were all absorbed in plans for\nspending this birthday--Marcia's birthday, but no reference whatever\nwas made to what she liked; no one consulted her as to what she wanted\nto do, or to have done. The boys were going skating in the forenoon;\nthe little girls were to invite four of their friends to help serve\nthe first dinner in the new doll's house, and in the afternoon father\nwould take them all for an automobile ride into the country to a dear\nfriend's--all but Marcia, who couldn't bear to get into an auto since\na terrible accident she had been in a few weeks ago. A troop of her\ngirl friends came in, and in a conventional way wished her \"many happy\nreturns\" of the day; and then proceeded to ignore her, and gave gifts\nto other members of the family. \"It is a wonder,\" thought Marcia,\nbitterly, \"that they didn't have a birthday party for Marcia with\nMarcia left out.\"\n\nAnd so it went on all through that strange, miserable day; while they\nwere all busy celebrating her birthday, she herself was neglected and\nignored as she sat in the quiet house alone in the twilight--for she\nhad no heart to light the gas--just homesick for the personal love\nwhich had characterized all her birthdays and all her home life\nheretofore, there came a timid knock on the door, and as Marcia opened\nit, there stood little crippled Joe, one of her scholars in the\nMission Sunday school. As he saw her, he gave a little exclamation of\nsurprise and delight, and said: \"O Miss Marshay! I hearn last night\n'twas yer berthday today, an' I wanted to guv yer suthin' white, like\nMr. Robinson he told us 'bout, don't yer know?--an' 'caus yer has\nallers treated me so white--'n'--'n' I didn't hev nuthin', 'n so I\naxed Him, ye know, what yer telled us 'bout in Sunday school--Jesus;\nwho died on the cross, and who's allers willin' to help a poor\nfeller--an' I axed Him to help me get suthin' real nice 'n' white fer\nuer birthday; 'n I kep' me eyes peeled all day 'xpectin' it, 'n just\nnow a reel swell feller buyed a paper of me, 'n then he guv he this\nhere bunch uv white sweet smellin' posies, 'thout my sayin' a word.\nHere they be, Miss Marshay fer yer. Giminy, teacher, ain't them purty?\nAn' O, teacher--He made 'm in the fust place 'n had the man guv them\nto me, 'n so I reckon He 'n me's pardners in this here white gift\nbizness.\" And he held up in his thin, grimy hand a bunch of white,\nsweet-scented violets.\n\nMarcia's first impulse was to catch up the little fellow and his gift\nin her arms, and baptize them with a flood of tears from her own\novercharged heart! But she hadn't taught boys in a Mission Sunday\nschool class for nothing--Joe would have thought she had gone crazy,\nor been struck silly, or was sick unto death; so she controlled\nherself, and kneeling beside him took the violets reverently in both\nher hands, saying in a choked voice: \"Joe, they are just beautiful!\nThis is the only really truly white gift I have had today, and I don't\ndeserve it--but I thank Him and you.\"\n\nThe boy looked at her with shining face, drew his hand across his\neyes, and then answered brightly: \"Oh, that's all right, Miss Marshay;\n'tenny rate 'tis with me, 'n' I reckon 'tis with Him\"--and seizing his\ncrutch, he hopped like a little sparrow through the door and onto the\nstreet, and she heard his boyish voice calling out: \"Evenin' papers,\nlast edishun--all 'bout the big graft 'sposure.\"\n\nJust then the big white touring car discharged its merry load at the\ndoor, and the house was filled with the chatter and laughter of the\nchildren. In vain she tried to find a quiet corner where she could be\nalone with her heart--it was impossible to escape from the hilarious\ncelebration of her birthday. She was so glad when the children said\ngood-night and went off to bed, and she could seek the quiet of her\nown room.\n\nAs she bade her father good night, he said: \"Well, daughter, I hope\nyou have enjoyed your birthday and all your gifts?\"\n\nAt this all the honesty of her nature, all the hatred of sham, rose up\nin one indignant outburst, and she exclaimed: \"I have had no gifts,\nneither has this been my birthday celebration.\"\n\n\"Why, Marcia!\" said her father in an aggrieved tone, \"this certainly\nis your birthday, and we have been very happy in keeping it for love\nof you.\"\n\n\"I have failed to see any manifestation of love to me,\" retorted\nMarcia. \"You may have had a happy time, but I have not been in it; you\nhave given gifts to one another, but I have had just one\"--and she\nheld up the bunch of violets. \"This is a gift of love from little lame\nJoe, in answer to his prayer, and in pity for my hungry heart.\"\n\nThere was silence in the room for a moment, and then her father\nanswered: \"It seems to me, daughter, that when you get right down to a\npersonal application, what you believe in after all is a 'white\nbirthday'.\"\n\nThe words went through her like an electric shock, and with a start\nshe awoke, and sat upright in her chair; and, lo, it was all a dream!\n\nMarcia looked around the room, shook herself a little, stirred the\nfire, and put on fresh coal. She laughed at the remembrance of her\ndream, and its absurdity! How glad she was that it was only a dream!\nBut was it only a dream? Was it not a reality? Was not this the way\nshe had kept the Lord's birthday? When she had opened her Christmas\ntreasure, how much had been given Him and for love of Him? How large a\nplace had she given Him in the season's activity? Had she ever made\nroom for Him as the central figure of it all; or had he been crowded\nout, and His rightful place given to Santa Claus and the world's\nmerry-making?\n\nIn the light of the Spirit she saw that the Star of Bethlehem always\nleads to the cross of Calvary. She had never liked to think about the\ncross before, but now it was all illumined with the glory of the love\nwhich gave to us God's best, his only begotten Son. She remembered how\nthe Lord Jesus had said: \"If I be lifted up, I will draw all men unto\nMe.\" She saw that it is as we see Christ on the cross for us that we\nare drawn to Him.\n\nIn that still hour, on her knees, at the foot of the cross, Marcia\nwith great gladness made her first \"White Gift\" unto her Lord--she\ngave HERSELF to Him.\n\n[*] By permission of the author and the publisher, Pittsburgh\nChristian Advocate.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIR TREE[*]\n\nAdapted by J. H. Stickney\n\n\nFar away in the forest, where the warm sun and the fresh air made a\nsweet resting place, grew a pretty little fir tree. The situation was\nall that could be desired; and yet it was not happy, it wished so\nmuch to be like its tall companions, the pines and firs which grew\naround it.\n\nThe sun shone, and the soft air fluttered its leaves, and the little\npeasant children passed by, prattling merrily; but the fir tree did\nnot heed them.\n\nSometimes the children would bring a large basket of raspberries or\nstrawberries, wreathed in straws, and seat themselves near the fir\ntree, and say, \"Is it not a pretty little tree?\" which made it feel\neven more unhappy than before.\n\nAnd yet all this while the tree grew a notch or joint taller every\nyear; for by the number of joints in the stem of a fir tree we can\ndiscover its age.\n\nStill, as it grew, it complained: \"Oh! how I wish I were as tall as\nthe other trees; then I would spread out my branches on every side,\nand my crown would overlook the wide world around. I should have the\nbirds building their nests on my boughs, and when the wind blew, I\nshould bow with stately dignity, like my tall companions.\"\n\nSo discontented was the tree, that it took no pleasure in the warm\nsunshine, the birds, or the rosy clouds that floated over it morning\nand evening.\n\nSometimes in winter, when the snow lay white and glittering on the\nground, there was a little hare that would come springing along,\nand jump right over the little tree's head; then how mortified it\nwould feel.\n\nTwo winters passed; and when the third arrived, the tree had grown so\ntall that the hare was obliged to run round it. Yet it remained\nunsatisfied, and would exclaim, \"Oh! to grow, to grow; if I could but\nkeep on growing tall and old! There is nothing else worth caring for\nin the world.\"\n\nIn the autumn the woodcutters came, as usual, and cut down several of\nthe tallest trees; and the young fir, which was now grown to its full\nheight, shuddered as the noble trees fell to the earth with a crash.\n\nAfter the branches were lopped off, the trunks looked so slender and\nbare that they could scarcely be recognized. Then they were placed,\none upon another, upon wagons, and drawn by horses out of the forest.\n\"Where could they be going? What would become of them?\" The young fir\ntree wished very much to know.\n\nSo in the spring, when the swallows and the storks came, it asked, \"Do\nyou know where those trees were taken? Did you meet them?\"\n\nThe swallows knew nothing; but the stork, after a little reflection,\nnodded his head, and said, \"Yes, I think I do. As I flew from Egypt, I\nsaw several new ships, and they had fine masts that smelt like fir.\nThese must have been the trees; and I assure you they were stately;\nthey sailed right gloriously!\"\n\n\"Oh, how I wish I were tall enough to go on the sea,\" said the fir\ntree. \"Tell me what is this sea, and what does it look like?\"\n\n\"It would take too much time to explain, a great deal too much,\" said\nthe stork, flying quickly away.\n\n\"Rejoice in thy youth,\" said the sunbeam; \"rejoice in thy fresh\ngrowth, and in the young life that is in thee.\"\n\nAnd the wind kissed the tree, and the dew watered it with tears; but\nthe fir tree regarded them not.\n\nChristmas time drew near, and many young trees were cut down, some\nthat were even smaller and younger than the fir tree, who enjoyed\nneither rest nor peace with longing to leave its forest home. These\nyoung trees, which were chosen for their beauty, kept their branches,\nand were also laid on wagons, and drawn by horses far away out of the\nforest.\n\n\"Where are they going?\" asked the fir tree. \"They are not taller than\nI am; indeed, one is not so tall. And why do they keep all their\nbranches? Where are they going?\"\n\n\"We know, we know,\" sang the sparrows; \"we have looked in at the\nwindows of the houses in the town, and we know what is done with them.\nOh! you cannot think what honor and glory they receive. They are\ndressed up in the most splendid manner. We have seen them standing in\nthe middle of a warm room, and adorned with all sorts of beautiful\nthings;--honey cakes, gilded apples, playthings, and many hundreds of\nwax tapers.\"\n\n\"And then,\" asked the fir tree, trembling in all its branches, \"and\nthen what happens?\"\n\n\"We did not see any more,\" said the sparrows; \"but this was enough\nfor us.\"\n\n\"I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me,\"\nthought the fir tree. \"It would be better even than crossing the sea.\nI long for it almost with pain. Oh, when will Christmas be here? I am\nnow as tall and well grown as those which were taken away last year.\nOh, that I were now laid on the wagon, or standing in the warm room,\nwith all that brightness and splendor around me! Something better and\nmore beautiful is to come after, or the trees would not be so decked\nout. Yes, what follows will be grander and more splendid. What can it\nbe? I am weary with longing. I scarcely know what it is that I feel.\"\n\n\"Rejoice in our love,\" said the air and the sunlight. \"Enjoy thine own\nbright life in the fresh air.\"\n\nBut the tree would not rejoice, though it grew taller every day and,\nwinter and summer, its dark green foliage might be seen in the\nforests, while passersby would say, \"What a beautiful tree!\"\n\nA short time before Christmas the discontented fir tree was the first\nto fall. As the axe cut sharply through the stem, and divided the\npith, the tree fell with a groan to the earth, conscious of pain and\nfaintness, and forgetting all its dreams of happiness, in sorrow at\nleaving its home in the forest. It knew that it should never again see\nits dear old companions, the trees, nor the little bushes and\nmany-colored flowers that had grown by its side; perhaps not even the\nbirds. Nor was the journey at all pleasant.\n\nThe tree first recovered itself while being unpacked in the courtyard\nof a house, with several other trees; and it heard a man say, \"We\nonly want one, and this is the prettiest. This is beautiful!\"\n\nThen came two servants in grand livery, and carried the fir tree into\na large and beautiful apartment. Pictures hung on the walls, and near\nthe great stove stood great china vases, with lions on the lids. There\nwere rocking chairs, silken sofas, large tables covered with pictures,\nbooks, and playthings that had cost a hundred times a hundred dollars;\nat least so said the children.\n\nThen the fir tree was placed in a large tub, full of sand; but green\nbaize hung all around it, so that no one could know it was a tub; and\nit stood on a very handsome carpet. Oh, how the fir tree trembled!\nWhat was going to happen to him now? Some young ladies came in, and\nthe servants helped them to adorn the tree.\n\nOn one branch they hung little bags cut out of colored paper, and each\nbag was filled with sweetmeats. From other branches hung gilded apples\nand walnuts, and all around were hundreds of red, blue and white\ntapers, which were fastened upon the branches. Dolls, exactly like\nreal men and women, were placed under the green leaves,--and the tree\nhad never seen such things before,--and at the top was fastened a\nglittering star, made of gold tinsel. Oh, it was very beautiful. \"This\nevening,\" they all exclaimed, \"how bright it will be!\"\n\n\"Oh, that the evening were come,\" thought the tree, \"and the tapers\nlighted! Then I should know what else is going to happen. Will the\ntrees of the forest come to see me? Will the sparrows peep in at the\nwindows, I wonder, as they fly? Shall I grow faster here, and keep on\nall these ornaments during summer and winter?\" But guessing was of\nvery little use. His back ached with trying; and this pain is as bad\nfor a slender fir tree as headache is for us.\n\nAt last the tapers were lighted, and then what a glistening blaze of\nsplendor the tree presented! It trembled so with joy in all its\nbranches, that one of the candles fell among the green leaves and\nburnt some of them. \"Help! help!\" exclaimed the young ladies; but\nthere was no danger, for they quickly extinguished the fire.\n\nAfter this the tree tried not to tremble at all, though the fire\nfrightened him, he was so anxious not to hurt any of the beautiful\nornaments, even while their brilliancy dazzled him.\n\nAnd now the folding doors were thrown open, and a troop of children\nrushed in as if they intended to upset the tree, and were followed\nmore slowly by their elders. For a moment the little ones stood silent\nwith astonishment, and then they shouted for joy till the room rang;\nand they danced merrily round the tree, while one present after\nanother was taken from it.\n\n\"What are they doing? What will happen next?\" thought the tree. At\nlast the candles burned down to the branches, and were put out. Then\nthe children received permission to plunder the tree.\n\nOh, how they rushed upon it! There was such a riot that the branches\ncracked, and had it not been fastened with the glistening star to the\nceiling, it must have been thrown down.\n\nThen the children danced about with their pretty toys, and no one\nnoticed the tree, except the children's maid, who came and peeped\namong the branches to see if an apple or a fig had been forgotten.\n\n\"A story, a story,\" cried the children, pulling a little fat man\ntoward the tree.\n\n\"Now we shall be in green shade,\" said the man, as he seated himself\nunder it, \"and the tree will have the pleasure of hearing also; but I\nshall only relate one story. What shall it be? Ivede-Avede, or\nHumpty-Dumpty, who fell down stairs, but soon got up again, and at\nlast married a princess?\"\n\n\"Ivede-Avede,\" cried some. \"Humpty-Dumpty,\" cried others; and there\nwas a famous uproar. But the fir tree remained quite still, and\nthought to himself, \"Shall I have anything to do with all this? Ought\nI to make a noise too?\" but he had already amused them as much as they\nwished.\n\nThen the old man told them the story of Humpty-Dumpty;--how he fell\ndownstairs and was raised up again, and married a princess. And the\nchildren clapped their hands and cried \"Tell another, tell another,\"\nfor they wanted to hear the story of Ivede-Avede; but this time they\nhad only Humpty-Dumpty. After this the fir tree became quite silent\nand thoughtful. Never had the birds in the forest told such tales as\nHumpty-Dumpty who fell down stairs, and yet married a princess.\n\n\"Ah, yes! so it happens in the world,\" thought the fir tree. He\nbelieved it all, because it was related by such a pleasant man.\n\n\"Ah, well!\" he thought, \"who knows? Perhaps I may fall down too and\nmarry a princess;\" and he looked forward joyfully to the next evening,\nexpecting to be again decked out with lights and playthings, gold and\nfruit. \"Tomorrow I will not tremble,\" thought he; \"I will enjoy all my\nsplendor, and I shall hear the story of Humpty-Dumpty again, and\nperhaps Ivede-Avede.\" And the tree remained quiet and thoughtful all\nnight.\n\nIn the morning the servants and the housemaid came in. \"Now,\" thought\nthe fir tree, \"all my splendor is going to begin again.\" But they\ndragged him out of the room and upstairs to the garret and threw him\non the floor, in a dark corner where no daylight shone, and there they\nleft him. \"What does this mean?\" thought the tree. \"What am I to do\nhere? I can hear nothing in a place like this;\" and he leaned against\nthe wall and thought and thought.\n\nAnd he had time enough to think, for days and nights passed, and no\none came near him; and when at last somebody did come, it was only to\npush away some large boxes in a corner. So the tree was completely\nhidden from sight as if it had never existed.\n\n\"It is winter now,\" thought the tree; \"the ground is hard and covered\nwith snow, so that people cannot plant me. I shall be sheltered here,\nI dare say, until spring comes. How thoughtful and kind everybody is\nto me! Still, I wish this place were not so dark and so dreadfully\nlonely, with not even a little hare to look at. How pleasant it was\nout in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the hare\nwould run by, yes, and jump over me too, although I did not like it\nthen. Oh! it is terribly lonely here.\"\n\n\"Squeak, squeak,\" said a little mouse, creeping cautiously towards the\ntree; then came another, and they both sniffed at the fir tree, and\ncrept in and out between the branches.\n\n\"Oh, it is very cold here,\" said the little mouse. \"If it were not, we\nwould be very comfortable here, wouldn't we, old fir tree?\"\n\n\"I am not old,\" said the fir tree. \"There are many who are older than\nI am.\"\n\n\"Where do you come from?\" asked the mice, who were full of curiosity;\n\"and what do you know? Have you seen the most beautiful places in the\nworld, and can you tell us all about them? And have you been in the\nstoreroom, where cheeses lie on the shelf and hams hang from the\nceiling? One can run about on tallow candles there; one can go in thin\nand come out fat.\"\n\n\"I know nothing of that,\" said the fir tree; \"but I know the wood\nwhere the sun shines and the birds sing.\" And then the tree told the\nlittle mice all about its youth. They had never heard such an account\nin their lives; and after they had listened to it attentively, they\nsaid, \"What a number of things you have seen! You must have been very\nhappy.\"\n\n\"Happy!\" exclaimed the fir tree; and then, as he reflected on what he\nhad been telling them, he said, \"Ah, yes! after all, those were happy\ndays.\" But when he went on and related all about Christmas eve, and\nhow he had been dressed up with cakes and lights, the mice said, \"How\nhappy you must have been, you old fir tree.\"\n\n\"I am not old at all,\" replied the tree; \"I only came from the forest\nthis winter. I am now checked in my growth.\"\n\n\"What splendid stories you can tell,\" said the little mice. And the\nnext night four other mice came with them to hear what the tree had to\ntell. The more he talked, the more he remembered, and then he thought\nto himself, \"Yes, those were happy days; but they may come again.\nHumpty-Dumpty fell downstairs, and yet he married a princess. Perhaps\nI may marry a princess too.\" And the fir tree thought of the pretty\nlittle birch tree that grew in the forest; a real princess, a\nbeautiful princess, she was to him.\n\n\"Who is Humpty-Dumpty?\" asked the little mice. And then the tree\nrelated the whole story; he could remember every single word. And the\nlittle mice were so delighted with it, that they were ready to jump to\nthe top of the tree. The next night a great many more mice made their\nappearance, and on Sunday two rats came with them; but they said it\nwas not a pretty story at all, and the little mice were very sorry,\nfor it made them also think less of it.\n\n\"Do you know only that one story?\" asked the rats.\n\n\"Only that one,\" replied the fir tree. \"I heard it on the happiest\nevening of my life; but I did not know I was so happy at the time.\"\n\n\"We think it is a very miserable story,\" said the rats. \"Don't you\nknow any story about bacon or tallow in the storeroom?\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the tree.\n\n\"Many thanks to you, then,\" replied the rats, and they went their\nways.\n\nThe little mice also kept away after this, and the tree sighed and\nsaid, \"It was very pleasant when the merry little mice sat around me\nand listened while I talked. Now that is all past too. However, I\nshall consider myself happy when someone comes to take me out of this\nplace.\"\n\nBut would this ever happen? Yes; one morning people came to clear up\nthe garret; the boxes were packed away, and the tree was pulled out of\nthe corner and thrown roughly on the floor; then the servants dragged\nit out upon the staircase where the daylight shone.\n\n\"Now life is beginning again,\" said the tree, rejoicing in the\nsunshine and fresh air. Then it was carried downstairs and taken into\nthe courtyard so quickly that it forgot to think of itself, and could\nonly look about, there was so much to be seen.\n\nThe court was close to a garden, where everything looked blooming.\nFresh and fragrant roses hung over the little palings. The linden\ntrees were in blossom; while the swallows flew here and there crying,\n\"Twit, twit, twit, my mate is coming;\" but it was not the fir tree\nthey meant.\n\n\"Now I shall live,\" cried the tree joyfully, spreading out its\nbranches; but alas! they were all withered and yellow, and it lay in a\ncorner amongst weeds and nettles. The star of gold paper still stuck\nin the top of the tree, and glittered in the sunshine.\n\nIn the same courtyard two of the merry children were playing who had\ndanced round the tree at Christmas time and had been so happy. The\nyoungest saw the gilded star and ran and pulled it off the tree. \"Look\nwhat is sticking to the ugly old fir tree,\" said the child, treading\non the branches till they crackled under his boots.\n\nAnd the tree saw all the fresh, bright flowers in the garden, and\nthen looked at itself, and wished it had remained in the dark corner\nof the garret. It thought of its fresh youth in the forest, of the\nmerry Christmas evening, and of the little mice who had listened to\nthe story of Humpty-Dumpty.\n\n\"Past! past!\" said the poor tree. \"Oh, had I but enjoyed myself while\nI could have done so! but now it is too late.\"\n\nThen a lad came and chopped the tree into small pieces, till a large\nbundle lay in a heap on the ground. The pieces were placed in the\nfire, and they blazed up brightly, while the tree sighed so deeply\nthat each sigh was like a little pistol shot. Then the children, who\nwere at play, came and seated themselves in front of the fire and\nlooked at it, and cried, \"Pop, pop.\" But at each \"pop,\" which was a\ndeep sigh, the tree was thinking of a summer day in the forest, or of\nsome winter night there when the stars shone brightly, and of\nChristmas evening and of Humpty-Dumpty, the only story it had ever\nheard, or knew how to relate,--till at last it was consumed.\n\nThe boys still played in the garden, and the youngest wore the golden\nstar on his breast with which the tree had been adorned during the\nhappiest evening of its existence. Now all was past; the tree's life\nwas past, and the story also past! for all stories must come to an end\nsome time or other.\n\n[*] From \"Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales,\" adapted by J. H. Stickney. By\npermission of the publishers--Ginn and Company.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE MATCH GIRL[*]\n\nHans Andersen\n\n\nIt was dreadfully cold; it was snowing fast, and was almost dark, as\nevening came on--the last evening of the year. In the cold and the\ndarkness, there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded\nand with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is\ntrue; but they were much too large for her feet,--slippers that her\nmother had used until then, and the poor little girl lost them in\nrunning across the street when two carriages were passing terribly\nfast. When she looked for them, one was not to be found, and a boy\nseized the other and ran away with it, saying he would use it for a\ncradle some day, when he had children of his own.\n\nSo on the little girl went with her bare feet, that were red and blue\nwith cold. In an old apron that she wore were bundles of matches, and\nshe carried a bundle also in her hand. No one had bought so much as a\nbunch all the long day, and no one had given her even a penny.\n\nPoor little girl! Shivering with cold and hunger she crept along, a\nperfect picture of misery!\n\nThe snowflakes fell on her long flaxen hair, which hung in pretty\ncurls about her throat; but she thought not of her beauty nor of the\ncold. Lights gleamed in every window, and there came to her the savory\nsmell of roast goose, for it was New Year's Eve. And it was of this\nwhich she thought.\n\nIn a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected beyond the\nother, she sat cowering down. She had drawn under her little feet, but\nstill she grew colder and colder; yet she dared not go home, for she\nhad sold no matches, and could not bring a penny of money. Her father\nwould certainly beat her; and, besides, it was cold enough at home,\nfor they had only the houseroof above them; and, though the largest\nholes had been stopped with straw and rags, there were left many\nthrough which the cold wind whistled.\n\nAnd now her little hands were nearly frozen with cold. Alas! a single\nmatch might do her good if she might only draw it from the bundle, rub\nit against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. So at last she drew\none out. Whischt! How it blazed and burned! It gave out a warm, bright\nflame like a little candle, as she held her hands over it. A wonderful\nlittle light it was. It really seemed to the little girl as if she sat\nbefore a great iron stove, with polished brass feet and brass shovel\nand tongs. So blessedly it burned that the little maiden stretched out\nher feet to warm them also. How comfortable she was! But lo! the flame\nwent out, the stove vanished, and nothing remained but the little\nburned match in her hand.\n\nShe rubbed another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and\nwhere the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a veil,\nso that she could see through it into the room. A snow-white cloth was\nspread upon the table, on which was a beautiful china dinner service,\nwhile a roast goose, stuffed with apples and prunes, steamed famously,\nand sent forth a most savory smell. And what was more delightful\nstill, and wonderful, the goose jumped from the dish, with knife and\nfork still in its breast, and waddled along the floor straight to the\nlittle girl.\n\nBut the match went out then, and nothing was left to her but the\nthick, damp wall.\n\nShe lighted another match. And now she was under a most beautiful\nChristmas tree, larger and far more prettily trimmed than the one she\nhad seen through the glass doors at the rich merchant's. Hundreds of\nwax tapers were burning on the green branches, and gay figures, such\nas she had seen in the shop windows, looked down upon her. The child\nstretched out her hands to them; then the match went out.\n\nStill the lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher. She saw\nthem as stars in heaven, and one of them fell, forming a long trail of\nfire.\n\n\"Now some one is dying,\" murmured the child softly; for her\ngrandmother, the only person who had loved her and who was now dead,\nhad told her that whenever a star falls a soul mounts up to God.\n\nShe struck yet another match against the wall, and again it was light;\nand in the brightness there appeared before her the dear old\ngrandmother, bright and radiant, yet sweet and mild, and happy as she\nhad never looked on earth.\n\n\"Oh, grandmother,\" cried the child, \"take me with you. I know you will\ngo away when the match burns out. You, too, will vanish, like the warm\nstove, the splendid New Year's feast, the beautiful Christmas Tree.\"\nAnd lest her grandmother should disappear, she rubbed the whole bundle\nof matches against the wall.\n\nAnd the matches burned with such a brilliant light that it became\nbrighter than noonday. Her grandmother had never looked so grand and\nbeautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both flew\ntogether, joyously and gloriously, mounting higher and higher, far\nabove the earth; and for them there was neither hunger, nor cold, nor\ncare;--they were with God.\n\nBut in the corner, at the dawn of day, sat the poor girl, leaning\nagainst the wall, with red cheeks and smiling mouth,--frozen to death\non the last evening of the old year. Stiff and cold she sat, with the\nmatches, one bundle of which was burned.\n\n\"She wanted to warm herself, poor little thing,\" people said. No one\nimagined what sweet visions she had had, or how gloriously she had\ngone with her grandmother to enter upon the joys of a new year.\n\n[*] From \"Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales.\" By permission of\npublishers--Ginn & Company.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE PICCOLA[*]\n\nSuggested by One of Mrs. Celia Thaxter's Poems\n\n     \"Story-telling is a real strengthening spirit-bath.\"--_Froebel._\n\n\nPiccola lived in Italy, where the oranges grow, and where all the year\nthe sun shines warm and bright. I suppose you think Piccola a very\nstrange name for a little girl; but in her country it was not strange\nat all, and her mother thought it the sweetest name a little girl ever\nhad.\n\nPiccola had no kind father, no big brother or sister, and no sweet\nbaby to play with and love. She and her mother lived all alone in an\nold stone house that looked on a dark, narrow street. They were very\npoor, and the mother was away from home almost every day, washing\nclothes and scrubbing floors, and working hard to earn money for her\nlittle girl and herself. So you see Piccola was alone a great deal of\nthe time; and if she had not been a very happy, contented little\nchild, I hardly know what she would have done. She had no playthings\nexcept a heap of stones in the back yard that she used for building\nhouses and a very old, very ragged doll that her mother had found in\nthe street one day.\n\nBut there was a small round hole in the stone wall at the back of her\nyard, and her greatest pleasure was to look through that into her\nneighbor's garden. When she stood on a stone, and put her eyes close\nto the hole, she could see the green grass in the garden, and smell\nthe sweet flowers, and even hear the water splashing into the\nfountain. She had never seen anyone walking in the garden, for it\nbelonged to an old gentleman who did not care about grass and flowers.\n\nOne day in the autumn her mother told her that the old gentleman had\ngone away, and had rented his house to a family of little American\nchildren, who had come with their sick mother to spend the winter in\nItaly. After this, Piccola was never lonely, for all day long the\nchildren ran and played and danced and sang in the garden. It was\nseveral weeks before they saw her at all, and I am not sure they ever\nwould have done so but one day the kitten ran away, and in chasing her\nthey came close to the wall and saw Piccola's black eyes looking\nthrough the hole in the stones. They were a little frightened at\nfirst, and did not speak to her; but the next day she was there again,\nand Rose, the oldest girl, went up to the wall and talked to her a\nlittle while. When the children found that she had no one to play with\nand was very lonely, they talked to her every day, and often brought\nher fruits and candies, and passed them through the hole in the wall.\n\nOne day they even pushed the kitten through; but the hole was hardly\nlarge enough for her, and she mewed and scratched and was very much\nfrightened. After that the little boy said he would ask his father if\nthe hole might not be made larger, and then Piccola could come in and\nplay with them. The father had found out that Piccola's mother was a\ngood woman, and that the little girl herself was sweet and kind, so\nthat he was very glad to have some of the stones broken away and an\nopening made for Piccola to come in.\n\nHow excited she was, and how glad the children were when she first\nstepped into the garden! She wore her best dress, a long,\nbright-colored woolen skirt and a white waist. Round her neck was a\nstring of beads, and on her feet were little wooden shoes. It would\nseem very strange to us--would it not?--to wear wooden shoes; but\nPiccola and her mother had never worn anything else, and never had any\nmoney to buy stockings. Piccola almost always ran about barefooted,\nlike the kittens and the chickens and the little ducks. What a good\ntime they had that day, and how glad Piccola's mother was that her\nlittle girl could have such a pleasant, safe place to play in, while\nshe was away at work!\n\nBy and by December came, and the little Americans began to talk about\nChristmas. One day, when Piccola's curly head and bright eyes came\npeeping through the hole in the wall, and they ran to her and helped\nher in; and as they did so, they all asked her at once what she\nthought she would have for a Christmas present. \"A Christmas present!\"\nsaid Piccola. \"Why, what is that?\"\n\nAll the children looked surprised at this, and Rose said, rather\ngravely, \"Dear Piccola, don't you know what Christmas is?\"\n\nOh, yes, Piccola knew it was the happy day when the baby Christ was\nborn, and she had been to church on that day and heard the beautiful\nsinging, and had seen the picture of the Babe lying in the manger,\nwith cattle and sheep sleeping round about. Oh, yes, she knew all that\nvery well, but what was a Christmas present?\n\nThen the children began to laugh and to answer her all together. There\nwas such a clatter of tongues that she could hear only a few of the\nwords now and then, such as \"chimney,\" \"Santa Claus,\" \"stockings,\"\n\"reindeer,\" \"Christmas Eve,\" \"candies and toys.\" Piccola put her hands\nover her ears and said, \"Oh, I can't understand one word. You tell me,\nRose.\" Then Rose told her all about jolly Santa Claus, with his red\ncheeks and white beard and fur coat, and about his reindeer and sleigh\nfull of toys. \"Every Christmas Eve,\" said Rose, \"he comes down the\nchimney, and fills the stockings of all the good children; so,\nPiccola, you hang up your stocking, and who knows what a beautiful\nChristmas present you will find when morning comes!\" Of course Piccola\nthought this was a delightful plan, and was very pleased to hear about\nit. Then all the children told her of every Christmas Eve they could\nremember, and of the presents they had had; so that she went home\nthinking of nothing but dolls and hoops and balls and ribbons and\nmarbles and wagons and kites.\n\nShe told her mother about Santa Claus, and her mother seemed to think\nthat perhaps he did not know there was any little girl in that house,\nand very likely he would not come at all. But Piccola felt very sure\nSanta Claus would remember her, for her little friends had promised to\nsend a letter up the chimney to remind him.\n\nChristmas Eve came at last. Piccola's mother hurried home from her\nwork; they had their little supper of soup and bread, and soon it was\nbedtime,--time to get ready for Santa Claus. But oh! Piccola\nremembered then for the first time that the children had told her she\nmust hang up her stocking, and she hadn't any, and neither had her\nmother.\n\nHow sad, how sad it was! Now Santa Claus would come, and perhaps be\nangry because he couldn't find any place to put the present.\n\nThe poor little girl stood by the fireplace, and the big tears began\nto run down her cheeks. Just then her mother called to her, \"Hurry,\nPiccola; come to bed.\" What should she do? But she stopped crying, and\ntried to think; and in a moment she remembered her wooden shoes, and\nran off to get one of them. She put it close to the chimney, and said\nto herself, \"Surely Santa Claus will know what it's there for. He will\nknow I haven't any stockings, so I gave him the shoe instead.\"\n\nThen she went off happily to her bed, and was asleep almost as soon as\nshe had nestled close to her mother's side.\n\nThe sun had only just begun to shine, next morning, when Piccola\nawoke. With one jump she was out on the floor and running toward the\nchimney. The wooden shoe was lying where she had left it, but you\ncould never, never guess what was in it.\n\nPiccola had not meant to wake her mother, but this surprise was more\nthan any little girl could bear and yet be quiet; so she danced to the\nbed with the shoe in her hand, calling, \"Mother, mother! look, look!\nsee the present Santa Claus brought me!\"\n\nHer mother raised her head and looked into the shoe. \"Why, Piccola,\"\nshe said, \"a little chimney swallow nestling in your shoe? What a good\nSanta Claus to bring you a bird!\"\n\n\"Good Santa Claus, dear Santa Claus!\" cried Piccola; and she kissed\nher mother and kissed the bird and kissed the shoe, and even threw\nkisses up the chimney, she was so happy.\n\nWhen the birdling was taken out of the shoe, they found that he did\nnot try to fly, only to hop about the room; and as they looked closer,\nthey could see that one of his wings was hurt a little. But the mother\nbound it up carefully, so that it did not seem to pain him, and he was\nso gentle that he took a drink of water from a cup, and even ate\ncrumbs and seeds out of Piccola's hands. She was a proud little girl\nwhen she took her Christmas present to show the children in the\ngarden. They had had a great many gifts,--dolls that could say\n\"mamma,\" bright picture books, trains of cars, toy pianos; but not one\nof their playthings was alive, like Piccola's birdling. They were as\npleased as she, and Rose hunted about the house until she found a\nlarge wicker cage that belonged to a blackbird she once had. She gave\nthe cage to Piccola, and the swallow seemed to make himself quite at\nhome in it at once, and sat on the perch winking his bright eyes at\nthe children. Rose had saved a bag of candies for Piccola, and when\nshe went home at last, with the cage and her dear swallow safely\ninside it, I am sure there was not a happier little girl in the whole\ncountry of Italy.\n\n[*] From \"The Story Hour,\" by Wiggins and Smith. Published by consent\nof the authors and also the publishers--Houghton, Mifflin and Company.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SHEPHERD'S STORY[*]\n\nWashington Gladden\n\n\n\"Bring hither that sheepskin, Joseph, and lay it down on this bank of\ndry earth, under this shelving rock. The wind blows chilly from the\nwest, but the rock will shelter us. The sky is fair and the moon is\nrising, and we can sit here and watch the flocks on the hillside\nbelow. Your young blood and your father's coat of skins will keep you\nwarm for one watch, I am sure. At midnight, my son, your father,\nReuben, and his brother James will take our places; for the first\nwatch the old man and the boy will tend the sheep.\"\n\n\"Yes, grandfather; you shall sit in that snug corner of the rock,\nwhere you can lean back and take your comfort. I will lie here at your\nfeet. Now and then I will run to see whether the sheep are wandering,\nand that will warm me, if I grow cold.\"\n\n\"Have you never been out on the hills at night with your father?\"\n\n\"Never, grandfather. I have often begged him to let me come; but he\nkept saying that I must wait until I was twelve years old. On the last\nfull moon was my birthday and today, when he returned from Bethlehem\nto the flocks, he brought me with him.\"\n\n\"So this is the lad's first night with the sheep in the fields, and\nthe old man's last night, I fear,\" said the aged shepherd, sadly. \"It\nis not often in these days that I venture out to keep the watches of\nthe flock; but this one night of the year I have spent upon these\nhills these many years, and I always shall as long as I have strength\nto walk so far.\"\n\n\"Was your father, too, a shepherd?\"\n\n\"Yes, and all his fathers before him for many generations. On these\nhills my ancestors have kept their sheep for I know not how long.\"\n\nJoseph was still for a moment. His eyes wandered away over the silent\nhills, lit by the rising moon. His face was troubled. At length, he\nsaid gently:\n\n\"Grandfather, I heard Rabbi Eliezer saying, the other day, in the\nsynagogue, that a shepherd's life is not a noble life. He was reading\nfrom one of the old doctors, who said: 'Let no one make his son a\ncamel-driver, a barber, a sailor, a shepherd, or a shopkeeper. They\nare dishonest callings.' I was angry when he read it; but I held my\npeace.\"\n\n\"You did well, my son, to hold your peace. I myself have often heard\nsuch words, of late, from the doctors in the synagogues; but it is not\nwise to answer them. Where they got their notions, I know not. From\nthe Egyptians, I think, more than from the prophets. All Egyptians\nhate shepherds, and can never speak of them without sneering. Perhaps\nthey have not yet forgotten how the shepherds conquered and ruled them\nfor generations. Nevertheless, there is some reason why the calling of\nthe shepherds should be despised. Many of them are rude and fierce\nmen. Living out of doors so constantly makes their manners rough and\ntheir temper harsh. They are often quarrelsome. Such bloody fights as\nI used to see among them, at the wells in the south country, where\nthey brought their flocks to water and each one wanted the first\nchance at the well, I hope you will never look upon.\"\n\n\"But all shepherds are not so,\" protested Joseph.\n\n\"No, indeed. Brave men they must be; fleet of foot and strong of limb\nand stout of heart; but brave men are not always quarrelsome. Many a\nshepherd whom I have known had a heart as pure and gentle as a\nchild's. And the godliest men that I have known have been among them.\nIf the shepherd has but learned to think, to commune with his own\nsoul, he has time for thought and time for prayer. More than one with\nwhom I have watched upon these hills knew all the Psalms of David by\nheart and many of the books of the prophets. The doctors in the\nsynagogues teach only the law; the shepherds love best the Psalms and\nthe prophets. They do not forget that King David was himself a\nshepherd's lad. It was upon these very hills that he kept his father's\nsheep. It was in that ravine over yonder, on that hillside, that he, a\nmere stripling, caught by the beard and killed the lion and the bear\nthat attacked the sheep. It was on that slope, just a little to the\nsouth, that the messenger found him with his flocks when he was called\nhome to be anointed by Samuel the prophet. When the doctors talk so\ncontemptuously about the shepherds, I wonder if they do not remember\nthat the great king wrote: 'The Lord is my Shepherd.' How can our\ncalling be so mean as they say, when David, who was called from the\nsheepfolds, praises the Eternal One himself as his Shepherd? But hark!\nwhat noise is that I hear? There is some trouble among the sheep.\"\n\n\"Let me run and see,\" answers the boy, \"and I will come and bring you\nword.\"\n\nSo saying, Joseph cast off his father's shaggy coat, seized the sling\nin his left hand and the crook in his right and ran swiftly out to the\nbrow of the hill. He was a strong lad, large of frame and a swift\nrunner, and the sling in his hand was a sure weapon. The old man\nlooked after him with pride, as he bounded over the rocks, and said to\nhimself:\n\n\"Some evil beast, I doubt not. But the lad's heart is brave and he\nmust learn to face dangers. I will wait a moment.\"\n\nPresently the sheep came huddling round the hill in terror. The quick,\nfaint bleat of the ewes showed that they had seen a foe. The old man\narose and hurried in the direction in which the lad had disappeared.\nJoseph was just returning, breathless, from the ravine below.\n\n\"It was a wolf, grandfather. The sheep on this side of the ledge had\nseen him and were flying. Just as I reached the brow of the hill, he\nwas creeping round the end of the ledge below, ready to spring upon a\newe that was feeding near. The first thing he knew a stone from my\nsling hit him, and he went howling down the hill. I think I broke his\nleg, for he went on three legs and I gained on him as I ran after him;\nbut he crawled into a narrow place among the rocks in the gorge down\nyonder, and I could not follow him.\"\n\n\"Well done, my lad,\" said the ancient Stephanus proudly. \"You will\nmake a good shepherd. These single wolves are cowards. It is always\nsafe to face them. When they come in packs, it is quite another thing.\nBut this fellow will keep at a safe distance for the rest of the\nnight, you may depend. Let us go back to our shelter and call the\nsheep together.\"\n\nIt was several minutes before Stephanus and Joseph could collect the\nsheep that the wolf had scattered; but at length, with the aid of the\ndog, who was not a very brave specimen, and who had taken to his heels\nwhen he saw the wolf coming, they succeeded in driving them into a\nsafe neighborhood, and then, with their blood quickened by the\nadventure, they sat down again beneath the overhanging rock.\n\n\"You said, grandfather, that you always spent this night with the\nflocks in the fields. Why this night?\" asked the boy.\n\n\"Do you not know, my boy, that this is the night of the year on which\nthe Lord Christ was born?\"\n\n\"Oh! yes,\" answered the lad. \"My father told me as we were walking\nhither today, but I had forgotten it. And you were with the sheep that\nnight?\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"Where was it?\"\n\n\"Here, on this very spot.\"\n\nThe boy's eyes began to grow and fill with wonder and there was a\nslight tremor in his voice as he hurriedly plied the aged man with his\neager questions. Stephanus drew his shepherd's cloak around him, and\nleaned forward a little, and looked out upon the silent moonlit hills,\nand then up into the sky.\n\n\"How long ago was that, grandfather?\"\n\n\"Just fifty years ago this night.\"\n\n\"And how old were you then?\"\n\n\"Fourteen, and a stout boy for my age. I had been for two years in\nthe fields with my father, and had tasted to the full the hardships\nand dangers of the shepherd's life.\"\n\n\"Who were with you on that night?\"\n\n\"My father, and his brother, James, and Hosea, the son of John, a\nneighbor and kinsman of ours. On that year, as on this year and often,\nthere came in the midwinter a dry and warm season between the early\nand the latter rain. We had driven forth our flocks from Bethlehem and\nwere dwelling by night in the shelter of the tower on the hillside\nyonder, watching and sleeping two and two. My father and I were wont\nto keep the early watches. At midnight we would call James and Hosea,\nand they would watch till the morning. But that night, when the sun\nwent down and the stars came out, we were sitting here, upon this\nhillside, talking of the troubles of Israel and of the promises of\ndeliverance spoken by the prophets; and James and Hosea were asking my\nfather questions, and he was answering them, for he was older than\nthey, and all the people of Bethlehem reverenced him as a wise and\ndevout man. Some even said that, if the people of Israel had not\nceased to look for prophets, they would have counted him a prophet. I\nremember well that, when he rose in the synagogue, it seemed as if\nsome wisdom from on high touched his lips, and he would speak with\nsuch hope and courage of the light that should yet shine in our\ndarkness and of the help that should yet arise to Judah, that the\npeople's faces would glow with joyful expectation.\"\n\nStephanus paused a moment and started forward, as his eye was turned\ntoward his own shadow upon the rock, cast by the rising moon. Did the\nold man's figure that he saw remind him of the patriarch of whom he\nwas talking?\n\nSoon he went on.\n\n\"Ah! but they should have heard my father talking here by night, under\nthe stars. It was here upon these hills where the royal shepherd used\nto sing, that his tongue was loosed and he spoke wonderful words. So\nit was that night, fifty years ago. I remember it as if it were\nyesterday. My father sat in this very niche, where I am sitting now;\nJames and Hosea were on either side of him. I was lying at their feet,\nas you now lie at mine. Their faces kindled and the tremor of deep\nfeeling was in their voices as they talked together; and the other two\nhad lingered here three or four hours after the sun had set. It was\nnot a moonlit night like this, but all the stars were out and all the\nwinds were still.\n\n\"Suddenly I saw my father rise to his feet. Then the other men sprang\nup, with astonishment and wonder upon their faces. It had grown light\nall at once, lighter than the brightest moon; and as I turned my face\nin the direction in which the others were looking, I saw, standing\nthere upon that level place, a figure majestic and beautiful beyond\nall the power of words to tell.\"\n\n\"Were you not afraid, grandfather?\"\n\n\"Indeed, I was, my boy. My heart stopped beating. The others were\nstanding, but I had no power to rise. I lay there motionless upon the\nearth. My eyes were fixed upon that wonderful face; upon those clear,\nshining eyes; upon that brow that seemed to beam with the purity of\nthe soul within. It was not a smile with which that face was lighted.\nIt was something too noble and exalted to call by that name. It was a\nlook that told of power and peace, of joy and triumph.\"\n\n\"Did you know that it was an angel?\"\n\n\"I knew not anything. I only knew that what I saw was glorious, too\nglorious for mortal eyes to look upon. Yet, while I gazed, and in far\nless time than I have now taken to tell you of what I saw, the\nterribleness of the look began to disappear, the sweetness and grace\nof the soul shone forth, and I had almost ceased to tremble before the\nangel opened his mouth. And when he spoke, his voice, clearer than any\ntrumpet and sweeter than any lute, charmed away all my fears.\"\n\n\"'Be not afraid' he said, 'for behold I bring you good tidings of\ngreat joy which shall be to all people. For there is born to you this\nday, in the City of David, a Savior, which is Messiah, the King. And\nthis is the sign unto you. Ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling\nclothes and lying in a manger.'\n\n\"Oh! that voice, my boy! It makes my heart beat now to remember its\nsweetness. It seemed to carry these words into our innermost hearts;\nto print them on our memory, so that we never could forget one\nsyllable of what he said. And then, before we had time to make reply,\nhe turned aside a little and lifted his face toward heaven, and, in a\ntone far louder than that in which he had spoken to us, but yet so\nsweet that it did not startle us at all, came forth from his lips the\nfirst strain of the great song:\n\n    \"'Glory to God in the highest!'\n\n\"When he had uttered that, he paused a moment, and the echoes, one\nafter another, from hills that were near and hills that were far away,\ncame flying home to us; so that I knew for once what the prophet meant\nwhen he said that all the mountains and the hills should break forth\ninto singing. But before the echoes had all faded we began to hear\nother voices above our heads, a great chorus, taking up the strain\nthat the angel first had sung. At first it seemed dim and far away;\nbut gradually it came nearer, and filled all the air, filled all the\nearth, filled all our souls with a most entrancing sweetness. Glory to\nGod in the highest!--that was the grandest part. It seemed as though\nthere could be no place so high that that strain would not mount up to\nit, and no place so happy that that voice would not make it thrill\nwith new gladness. But then came the softer tones, less grand, but\neven sweeter: 'Peace on earth; good will to men.'\n\n\"Oh! my boy, if you had heard that music as I did, you would not\nwonder when I tell you that it has been hard for me to wait here, in\nthe midst of the dreary noises of earth, for fifty years before\nhearing it again. But earth that night was musical as heaven. You\nshould have heard the echoes that came back, when the angels' chorus\nceased, from all these mountains and all these little hills on every\nside. There is music enough even in this world, if one can only call\nit forth; chords divine that will vibrate with wonderful harmony. It\nonly needs an angel's hand to touch the trembling strings.\"\n\n\"Did you see the choir of angels overhead, grandfather?\"\n\n\"Nay, I saw nothing. The brightness was too dazzling for mortal eyes.\nWe all stood there, with downcast eyes, listening spell-bound to the\nwonderful melody, until the chorus ceased, and the echoes, one after\nanother, died away, and the glory faded out of the sky and the stars\ncame back again, and no sound was heard but the faint voice of a young\nlamb, calling for its mother.\n\n\"The first to break the silence was my father. 'Come,' he said, in a\nsolemn voice. 'Let us go at once to Bethlehem, and see this thing\nwhich is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.'\n\n\"So the sheep were quietly gathered into the fold at the tower, and we\nhastened to Bethlehem. Never shall I forget that journey by night. We\nspake not many words, as we traveled swiftly the twenty furlongs; talk\nseemed altogether tame; but now and then my father broke forth in a\nsong, and the others joined in the chorus. We were not so spent with\nrunning but that we could find voice for singing; and such words as\nthese of the prophet were the only ones that could give voice to our\nswelling hearts:\n\n    \"'Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth;\n      And break forth into singing, O mountains;\n      For the Lord hath comforted His people,\n      And will have mercy on His afflicted.\n\n    \"'How beautiful upon the mountains\n      Are the feet of Him that bringeth good tidings,\n      That publisheth peace,\n      That bringeth good tidings of good,\n      That publisheth salvation.'\n\n\"It was midnight when we climbed the hill to the little city of\nBethlehem; the constellation Cesil, called by the Greeks Orion, was\njust setting in the west. We knew not whither to go. We had only the\nsign of the angel by which we should know the infant Messiah. He was a\nbabe of one day. He was lying in a manger.\n\n\"'Let us go to the inn Chimham,' said my father. 'It stands on the\nvery spot where King David was born. Peradvanture we shall find him\nthere.'\n\n\"Over the entrance to the court of the inn a lantern was swinging from\na rope stretched across from post to post. Guided by its light, we\nentered, and found the courtyard full of beasts of burden, showing\nthat the inn was crowded with travelers. In the arched shelter of the\nhostelry as many as could find room were lying; some who could not\nsleep were sitting up and waiting drearily for the morning. Two aged\nwomen near the entrance, were talking in a low tone.\n\n\"'Peace be unto you!' said my father.\n\n\"'The Lord be gracious unto thee,' answered the oldest woman, in a\nsolemn voice, as she looked upon my father's white beard; 'but,' she\nquickly added, 'there is scanty cheer in this place for late comers.'\n\n\"'We seek not lodging,' said my father; 'but know you whether among\nthese guests is an infant born this day?'\n\n\"'Verily there is,' answered the aged dame; 'a man-child more\nbeautiful than any my eyes have ever beheld. He is lying in a manger\nthere in the cave that serves for stable.'\n\n\"We hastened to the mouth of the cave, and there beheld our King. The\noxen and the asses were lying near, and a strong man, with a grave and\nbenignant face, was leaning on his staff above the manger. A beautiful\nyoung mother lay close beside it, her cheek resting on her hands, that\nwere clasped over the edge of the rock-hewn crib. Into this a little\nstraw had been thrown, and over it a purple robe had been cast,\nwhereon the infant lay. A lamp, set upon a projection of the wall of\nthe cave, burned brightly near. The great eyes of the wonderful child\nwere wandering about the room; his hand touched his mother's lips. I\nwaited to hear him open his mouth and speak.\n\n\"There was a moment of silence after we entered the cave. My father\nbroke it with his salutation:\n\n\"'Hail, thou blessed among women!' he cried. 'This child of thine is a\nPrince and a Savior.'\n\n\"And then we all bowed low upon our faces before him and worshipped\nhim with praise and gladness.\n\n\"The two aged women, with whom we had spoken, had followed us to the\ndoor of the stable, and, seeing us worshipping there, had run to call\nothers who were awake in the inn, so that when we arose quite a\ncompany were standing at the door, or just within, gazing upon the\nKing in his beauty and listening to our thanksgiving with great\nwonder.\n\n\"Then my father told them all the things that we had heard and\nseen--the message of the angel, the song in the air, the glory of the\nLord that had appeared to us--and how we had quickly come to\nBethlehem, and had found things as the angel had told us. 'And it is\neven,' he cried, 'as the prophet himself hath spoken: \"Thou Bethlehem\nEphratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out\nof thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel,\nwhose going forth hast been of old; even from everlasting.\"'\n\n\"All that heard were full of astonishment--all save the mother. I saw\nno wonder on her face; the great things that my father told caused her\nno astonishment; she listened with a quiet and solemn joy, like one\nwho was saying in her heart: 'I knew it all before.'\n\n\"When my father had finished speaking, we all bowed low again before\nthe young child; and the mother lifted him in her arms and placed his\ncheek against her own, smiling graciously on us, but uttering no word.\nAnd we came forth from the stable and stood again beneath the stars in\nthe courtyard of the inn. By this time many of the travelers were\nawake, and an eager company had gathered around us, all of whom\ndesired to be told of the sign that had been shown to us. To one and\nanother we rehearsed our story, lingering long to make known the good\ntidings, until the morning star appeared and the dawn began to kindle\nover the eastern hills. Then we hastened to our own homes in the city,\nand told our kindred what had happened unto us. In the early morning\nwe came back again unto our pastures and our flocks, rejoicing to\nstand again in the place where the glory of God had shone and the\nmusic of heaven had filled the air.\"\n\nStephanus paused, his face all aglow with the tale that he had been\ntelling. His eyes swept again the circuit of the moonlit hills and\nwere lifted reverently up to the sky.\n\n\"Did you ever see the Lord Christ after that?\" asked Joseph.\n\n\"Once only. My father and I were at Jerusalem at the passover. It was\nthe year before my father died, seventeen years ago; it was the same\nweek on which our Lord was crucified. My father was then an aged\nman--fourscore and five years old. Our tent was pitched on the slope\nof the Mount of Olives, near the Bethany road. While we sat there one\nmorning, a great noise of shouting was heard, and presently we saw one\nriding on an ass, followed by a great company, crying 'Hosanna!' As we\ndrew nearer, we heard them say that it was Jesus of Nazareth; and,\nwhen we saw His face, we knew that it was He, by the wonderful eyes,\nthough it was the face of a bearded man, and not of an infant, and was\nvery pale and sad. As He drew near to our tent, the city came full\ninto His view, with its gilded roofs and marble pinnacles, blazing\nunder the morning sun. Suddenly He paused in the way, and we heard Him\nweeping aloud, though we could not hear His words of lamentation. The\nmultitude halted, too, when we did; and the cheering ceased, and some\nof those who stood nearest Him wept also, though no one seemed to know\nwhat had caused His grief. But soon they went on again, and before\nthey reached the foot of the hill another multitude met them, coming\nforth from the city, and we heard their shouts of 'Hosanna in the\nHighest!' as they entered the gate of Jerusalem.\"\n\n\"What said your father when he saw all this?\" queried Joseph.\n\n\"He said but little. There was a shadow on his face, yet he spoke\ncheerfully. 'I cannot understand it,' he murmured. 'They are trying to\nmake Him King of the Jews; but King He will not be, at least not in\ntheir fashion. Yet in some way I know He will be Prince and Deliverer.\nI cannot understand, I will wait.'\"\n\n\"Were you not in Jerusalem when He was put to death?\"\n\n\"No. My father was frail and ill and we had hastened home to\nBethlehem. News of His death on the cross had only just reached us\nwhen another messenger came to tell us that the sepulcher in which He\nhad been laid was empty; that He had risen from the dead.\n\n\"My father's eyes kindled when he heard this message. He cast aside\nhis staff and stood firm on his feet. His voice, when he spoke, rang\nout like a trumpet. 'Blessed be the Lord God of Israel!' he cried. It\nis thus that He redeemeth His people. This Jesus is not to be the\nCaptain of our armies, but the Savior of our souls. His kingdom is the\nkingdom of righteousness, and therefore it is that the prophet hath\nsaid: \"Of the increase of His government and peace there shall be\nno end.\"\n\n\"Always after that, words of the prophet concerning the Messiah kept\ncoming back to my father; and once and again he cried out: 'Truly,\nthis Jesus was the Son of God, the true King of Israel!' As the months\nwore on, his words were more and more of the crucified and risen Lord,\nand he dwelt in a great peace. At length, when the flocks were led\nforth to the midwinter pasturage, he begged to go with me. It was on\nthis very day that we came, the same day of the year on which the Lord\nwas born. He was feeble and tottered as he walked; but he leaned on\nmy arm and we came slowly. In the evening he said: 'Let me go, my son,\nand sit once more under the great rock.' I wrapped him in my coat of\nskins, and sat here where I sit now and where he was sitting when the\nangel came. We talked here long, under the stars, that night, of Him\nwhom we had learned to love as Master and Lord, of the works that He\nhad done and the words that He had spoken, as His disciples had told\nof them. We had been silent for a few moments, when I looked up, and\nsaw that his head had fallen backward against the rock wall. I sprang\nto him. His eyes were shut, but his lips were moving. I put my ear to\nhis mouth, and heard him say only: 'Peace--on--earth--good\nwill'--they were his last words. He had gone beyond our starlight,\ninto the country where the light always shines--the glory that fell\nthat night, fifty years ago, upon these hills of Bethlehem.\"\n\nStephanus was silent and Joseph's eyes were full of tears. At length\nthe old man rose.\n\n\"Come, my son,\" he said. \"Cesil is in the south; it is midnight; let\nus call your father and his brother. The old man and the boy have kept\ntheir watch, and it is now time for rest.\"\n\n[*] Used by permission of the Author.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF CHRISTMAS[*]\n\nNora A. Smith\n\n     \"A great spiritual efficiency lies in story-telling\".--_Froebel._\n\n\nChristmas Day, you know, dear children, is Christ's day, Christ's\nbirthday, and I want to tell you why we love it so much, and why we\ntry to make every one happy when it comes each year.\n\nA long, long time ago--more than eighteen hundred years--the baby\nChrist was born on Christmas Day; a baby so wonderful and so\nbeautiful, who grew up to be a man so wise, so good, so patient and\nsweet that, every year, the people who know about Him love Him better\nand better, and are more and more glad when His birthday comes again.\nYou see that He must have been very good and wonderful; for people\nhave always remembered His birthday, and kept it lovingly for eighteen\nhundred years.\n\nHe was born, long years ago, in a land far, far away across the seas.\n\nBefore the baby Christ was born, Mary, His mother, had to make a long\njourney with her husband, Joseph. They made this journey to be taxed\nor counted; for in those days this could not be done in the town where\npeople happened to live, but they must be numbered in the place where\nthey were born.\n\nIn that far-off time the only way of traveling was on a horse, or a\ncamel, or a good, patient donkey. Camels and horses cost a great deal\nof money, and Mary was very poor; so she rode on a quiet, safe\ndonkey, while Joseph walked by her side, leading him and leaning on\nhis stick. Mary was very young, and beautiful, I think, but Joseph was\na great deal older than she.\n\nPeople dress nowadays, in those distant countries, just as they did so\nmany years ago, so we know that Mary must have worn a long, thick\ndress, falling all about her in heavy folds, and that she had a soft\nwhite veil over her head and neck, and across her face. Mary lived in\nNazareth, and the journey they were making was to Bethlehem, many\nmiles away.\n\nThey were a long time traveling, I am sure; for donkeys are slow,\nthough they are so careful, and Mary must have been very tired before\nthey came to the end of their journey.\n\nThey had traveled all day, and it was almost dark when they came near\nto Bethlehem, to the town where the baby Christ was to be born. There\nwas the place they were to stay,--a kind of inn, or lodging-house, but\nnot at all like those you know about.\n\nThey have them today in that far-off country, just as they built them\nso many years ago.\n\nIt was a low, flat-roofed, stone building, with no windows and only\none large door. There were no nicely furnished bed rooms inside, and\nno soft white beds for the tired travelers; there were only little\nplaces built into the stones of the wall, something like the berths on\nsteamboats nowadays, and each traveler brought his own bedding. No\npretty garden was in front of the inn, for the road ran close to the\nvery door, so that its dust lay upon the doorsill. All around the\nhouse, to a high, rocky hill at the back, a heavy stone fence was\nbuilt, so that the people and the animals inside might be kept safe.\n\nMary and Joseph could not get very near the inn; for the whole road in\nfront was filled with camels and donkeys and sheep and cows, while a\ngreat many men were going to and fro, taking care of the animals. Some\nof these people had come to Bethlehem to pay their taxes, as Mary and\nJoseph had done, and others were staying for the night on their way to\nJerusalem, a large city a little further on.\n\nThe yard was filled, too, with camels and sheep; and men were lying on\nthe ground beside them, resting and watching and keeping them safe.\nThe inn was so full and the yard was so full of people that there was\nno room for anybody else, and the keeper had to take Joseph and Mary\nthrough the house and back to the high hill, where they found another\nplace that was used for a stable. This had only a door and front, and\ndeep caves were behind, stretching far into the rocks.\n\nThis was the spot where Christ was born. Think how poor a place!--but\nMary was glad to be there, after all; and when the Christ-child came,\nHe was like other babies, and had so lately come from heaven that He\nwas happy everywhere.\n\nThere were mangers all around the cave, where the cattle and sheep\nwere fed, and great heaps of hay and straw were lying on the floor.\nThen, I think, there were brown-eyed cows and oxen there, and quiet,\nwoolly sheep, and perhaps even some dogs that had come in to take care\nof the sheep.\n\nAnd there in the cave, by and by, the wonderful baby came, and they\nwrapped Him up and laid Him in a manger.\n\nAll the stars in the sky shone brightly that night, for they knew the\nChrist-child was born, and the angels in heaven sang together for joy.\nThe angels knew about the lovely child, and were glad that He had come\nto help the people on earth to be good.\n\nThere lay the beautiful baby, with a manger for His bed, and oxen and\nsheep all sleeping quietly round Him. His mother watched Him and loved\nHim, and by and by many people came to see Him, for they had heard\nthat a wonderful child was to be born in Bethlehem. All the people in\nthe inn visited Him, and even the shepherds left their flocks in the\nfields and sought the child and His mother.\n\nBut the baby was very tiny, and could not talk any more than any other\ntiny child, so He lay in His mother's lap, or in the manger, and only\nlooked at the people. So after they had seen Him and loved Him, they\nwent away again.\n\nAfter a time, when the baby had grown larger, Mary took Him back to\nNazareth, and there He lived and grew up.\n\nAnd He grew to be such a sweet, wise, loving boy, such a tender,\nhelpful man, and He said so many good and beautiful things, that\neveryone who knew Him, loved Him. Many of the things He said are in\nthe Bible, you know, and a great many beautiful stories of the things\nHe used to do while He was on earth.\n\nHe loved little children like you very much, and often used to take\nthem up in His arms and talk to them.\n\nAnd this is the reason we love Christmas Day so much, and try to make\neverybody happy when it comes around each year. This is the reason;\nbecause Christ, who was born on Christmas Day, has helped us all to be\ngood so many, many times, and because He was the best Christmas\npresent the world ever had!\n\n[*] From \"The Story Hour,\" by Kate Douglas Wiggins and Nora A.\nSmith. Used by permission of the authors and also of the\npublishers--Houghton, Mifflin and Company.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE[*]\n\nBy Lucy Wheelock\n\n\nTwo little children were sitting by the fire one cold winter's night.\nAll at once they heard a timid knock at the door, and one ran to\nopen it.\n\nThere, outside in the cold and the darkness, stood a child with no\nshoes upon his feet and clad in thin, ragged garments. He was\nshivering with cold, and he asked to come in and warm himself.\n\n\"Yes, come,\" cried both the children; \"you shall have our place by the\nfire. Come in!\"\n\nThey drew the little stranger to their warm seat and shared their\nsupper with him, and gave him their bed, while they slept on a hard\nbench.\n\nIn the night they were awakened by strains of sweet music and, looking\nout, they saw a band of children in shining garments approaching the\nhouse. They were playing on golden harps, and the air was full of\nmelody.\n\nSuddenly the Stranger Child stood before them; no longer cold and\nragged, but clad in silvery light.\n\nHis soft voice said: \"I was cold and you took Me in. I was hungry, and\nyou fed Me. I was tired, and you gave Me your bed. I am the Christ\nChild, wandering through the world to bring peace and happiness to all\ngood children. As you have given to Me, so may this tree every year\ngive rich fruit to you.\"\n\nSo saying, He broke a branch from the fir tree that grew near the\ndoor, and He planted it in the ground and disappeared. But the branch\ngrew into a great tree, and every year it bore wonderful golden fruit\nfor the kind children.\n\n[*] From \"For the Children's Hour,\" by Bailey and Lewis. Used by\npermission of the authors and the publishers--Milton Bradley Company.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE JEAN[*]\n\nA Christmas Story\n\n\nLong ago, and far from here, in a country with a name too hard to\npronounce, there lived a little boy named Jean. In many ways, he was\njust like the boys here, for there are many Johns over here, are there\nnot? Then too, Jean lived with his auntie, and some of our boys do\nthat too. His father and mother were dead, and that is true here\nsometimes, isn't it? But in some ways things were quite different with\nJean. In the first place his auntie was very, very cross, and she\noften made him climb up his ladder to his little garret room to go to\nsleep on his pallet of straw, without any supper, save a dry crust.\nHis stockings had holes in the heels, and toes and knees, because his\nauntie never had time to mend them, and his shoes would have been worn\nout all the time if they had not been such strong wooden shoes--for in\nthat country the boys all wore wooden shoes. Jean did many a little\nservice around the place, for his auntie made him work for his daily\nbread, and he chopped the wood and swept the paths and made the fires\nand ran the errands, but he never heard anyone say \"Thank you.\"\n\nJean's happiest days were at school, and I wonder if he was like our\nboys in that? There his playmates wore much better clothes and good\nstockings too, and warm top coats, but they never thought of making\nfun of Jean, for they all loved to play with him. One morning Jean\nstarted off to school (which was next to the big church), and when he\ngot there he found the children all so happy and gay and dressed in\ntheir best clothes, and he heard one boy say, \"Won't it be jolly\ntomorrow with the big tree full of oranges and popcorn and candy, and\nthe candles burning?\" And another added, \"Won't it be fun to see the\nthings in our shoes in the morning, the goodies that boys love?\" And\nanother said, \"My, but we have a big, fat goose at our house, stuffed\nwith plums and just brown to a turn,\" and he smacked his lips as he\nthought of it. And Jean began to wonder about that beautiful tree and\nwish that one would grow at his house. And he thought about his wooden\nshoes and knew there would be no goodies in them for him in the\nmorning. Then he heard one boy say, \"Don't you love Christmas?\" And\nJean said, \"Christmas! why, what is Christmas?\" But just then the\nteacher came in and said, \"Boys, come into the church now and hear the\nmusic.\" And so the boys marched one behind the other just as they do\nin school here, and they went into the great church. Jean thought it\nwas beautiful in there! The soft light, the warm pleasant air, the\nflowers, and the marble altar, and then the music! Oh, such music Jean\nhad never heard, and somehow as he sat on the high-backed bench and\nlistened, his own heart grew very warm although he could not\nunderstand why, and he loved so to hear them singing: \"Peace on earth,\ngood will to men.\" And it began to sing itself over and over in his\nheart, this sweet, sweet song of \"Peace on earth, good will to men.\"\nThen the time came to go home, and the boys all shouted, \"Good-bye,\nJean! and Merry Christmas!\" And though Jean didn't know about \"Merry\nChristmas,\" he kept singing in his little warmed heart, \"Peace on\nearth, good will to men,\" and then he was glad the other boys could\nhave the tree and the goose and the wooden shoes full of goodies even\nif he couldn't.\n\nAs Jean went home the snow began to fall and the big flakes lodged on\nhis shoulders and cap and hands, but he didn't mind the cold for his\nheart was so warm. By and by as he ran down the street he passed a\ntall house with the steps going up from the street, and there sitting\non the bottom step he saw a little boy with soft curling hair and a\nbeautiful face, leaning his head against the stone house, fast asleep.\nSomehow as Jean looked at the sleeping face, his own heart grew still\nand quiet and warm, and he felt like he could look at it forever, and\nsuddenly he caught himself singing softly under his breath, \"Peace on\nearth, good will to men.\" And then he looked down at the little boy's\nfeet and he saw that he was barefooted and his little feet were purple\nwith the cold. As Jean looked at the feet, and then at the face of the\nchild, and thought of the sweet song in his heart, he said, \"Oh! I\nwish I could give him my shoes, for I have stockings to keep me warm,\nbut auntie would be so mad! And the more he looked and thought, the\nmore he longed to give his shoes away, until all at once he said, \"I\nknow what I'll do, I'll give him one shoe and one stocking and then he\nwon't be so cold,\" and he felt as though he couldn't get his shoe and\nstocking off fast enough to give them to the little child. So gently\nand tenderly he lifted the little cold foot in his hand to put on the\nshoe that he did not waken the sleeping boy, even when he had put the\nstocking on the other foot, and then as he stood up again and took a\nlast look at the lovely face, before he knew it he was singing aloud,\n\"Peace on earth, good will to men.\" Then he hopped off home in the\nsnow with the happiest heart he had ever had.\n\nNow, I wish the story turned out differently and that his auntie said\nwhen he told her about it, \"I'm so glad you did it, Jean.\" But she was\nso very cross, that she slapped Jean and sent him off to bed without\nany supper, saying, \"You had no right to give away that shoe and\nstocking for my money paid for them!\" Somehow Jean didn't mind doing\nwithout supper that night and he soon went fast asleep and dreamed a\nbeautiful dream, for he thought he was still singing \"Peace on earth,\ngood will to men!\" And he saw a vision of the little sleeping boy,\nthat grew into a tall and gentle man with a radiant face who walked to\nand fro in Jean's dream, singing with him \"Peace on earth, good will\nto men!\" Then morning came and outside his window, Jean heard the\nvoices of children singing, \"Glory to God in the highest, on earth\npeace, good will to men!\" And he heard a very strange sound too, for\nhis auntie's voice, soft and gentle, said, \"Jean, wake up, and come\ndown and see what has happened,\" and Jean came down the ladder and lo!\nthere was a wonderful tree just like the other boys were having today,\nand a goose, and by the fireplace his own wooden shoe, and beside it\nthe mate that he had given to the sleeping child, and far in the\ndistance Jean heard the children's voices singing as they ran down the\nstreet, \"Peace, peace on earth, good will to men!\" Then the room grew\nvery still and peaceful and Jean's heart did too--and through the\nsilence there came a voice so tender and loving--so gentle that the\nauntie's eyes were full of tears, and Jean wanted to listen forever,\nand the voice said, \"Jean, inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least\nof these, my brethren, ye did it unto ME.\"\n\n[*] Adapted from the French of Francois Coppee, by Nannie-Lee-Frayser.\n\n\n\n\nHOW THE FIR TREE BECAME THE CHRISTMAS TREE[*]\n\nBy Aunt Hede, in \"Kindergarten Magazine\"\n\n\nThis is the story of how the fir tree became the Christmas tree.\n\nAt the time when the Christ Child was born all the people, the\nanimals, and the trees, and plants were very happy. The Child was born\nto bring peace and happiness to the whole world. People came daily to\nsee the little One, and they always brought gifts with them.\n\nThere were three trees standing near the crypt which saw the people,\nand they wished that they, too, might give presents to the Christ\nChild.\n\nThe Palm said: \"I will choose my most beautiful leaf, and place it as\na fan over the Child.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said the Olive, \"will sprinkle sweet-smelling oil upon His\nhead.\"\n\n\"What can I give to the Child?\" asked the Fir, who stood near.\n\n\"You!\" cried the others. \"You have nothing to offer Him. Your needles\nwould prick Him, and your tears are sticky.\"\n\nSo the poor little Fir tree was very unhappy, and it said: \"Yes, you\nare right. I have nothing to offer the Christ Child.\"\n\nNow, quite near the trees stood the Christmas Angel, who had heard all\nthat the trees had said. The Angel was sorry for the Fir tree who was\nso lowly and without envy of the other trees. So, when it was dark,\nand the stars came out, he begged a few of the little stars to come\ndown and rest upon the branches of the Fir tree. They did as the\nChristmas Angel asked, and the Fir tree shone suddenly with a\nbeautiful light.\n\nAnd, at that very moment, the Christ Child opened His eyes--for He had\nbeen asleep--and as the lovely light fell upon Him He smiled.\n\nEvery year people keep the dear Christmas Child's birthday by giving\ngifts to each other, and every year, in remembrance of His first\nbirthday, the Christmas Angel places in every house a fir tree, also.\nCovered with starry candles it shines for the children as the stars\nshone for the Christ Child. The Fir tree was rewarded for its\nmeekness, for to no other tree is it given to shine upon so many happy\nfaces.\n\n[*] From \"For the Children's Hour,\" by Bailey and Lewis. Used by\npermission of the authors and also the publishers--Milton Bradley\nCompany.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MAGI IN THE WEST AND THEIR SEARCH FOR THE CHRIST[*]\n\nA Tale for the Christmas-Tide\n\nBy Frederick E. Dewhurst\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Mountain of Vision]\n\nNow, it happened a long time ago, in the year ----, but the exact year\ndoes not matter, because you will not find this story written in the\nhistory of any of the nations of the world. But in one of the\ncountries of Europe bordering on the Mediterranean Sea was a lofty\nmountain, which, to the dwellers in the plains below, seemed to reach\nto the very sky. At times its summit was covered with clouds, so that\nit could not be seen; at other times it stood out fair and clear, as\nthough silently asking the people to look up and not down. The lower\nslopes of the mountain were covered with olive trees, with groves of\noranges and lemons, and with vineyards, and they were dotted here and\nthere with the little white cottages of the peasants who made their\nliving from these groves and vineyards, the fruit of which they sold\nin the city not far away.\n\n[Sidenote: Sunset in the Sea]\n\nAlong the mountain-side wound a foot-trail even to the summit, and\nnowhere, in all the region, was there a finer view of the\nMediterranean than from the summit of this mountain. In the long\nsummer afternoons the peasants and children would climb to the top and\nlook off on the lovely picture of land and sea. Then they would eat\ntheir simple lunch of bread and dates and olives and quench their\nthirst from the spring on the mountain-side, which they called\n\"Dew-of-heaven,\" so clear and fresh and sparkling was it; and when the\nsun began to touch the western sky with his pencils of gold and\ncarmine and purple, they hastened down, that they might reach their\ncottages before the night shut in.\n\n[Sidenote: A Stranger Cometh]\n\nOn the day when this story begins a man was standing on the summit of\nthe mountain looking across the sea in the direction where you will\nfind Tyre and Joppa on the map. He was, very plainly, not one of the\npeasants who lived on the mountain-side. He looked about sixty years\nof age; he was tall and erect, though he carried a staff in his hand.\nHis hair and beard were long and flowing, and almost gray, but his eye\nwas clear and penetrating, and he was looking across the sea as though\nhe expected some one to appear.\n\nAnd while he stood there gazing seaward, there appeared a second man\non the summit, helping himself up with his staff, and panting with the\neffort of the long climb. From his dress and manner it was plain that\nthis man, too, was not one of the peasants, for, like the first comer,\nhe seemed to belong to another age and clime. The two men glanced at\neach other and gave such greeting as strangers might who should meet\nin so solitary a spot as a mountain summit. Then both lapsed into\nsilence and looked off across the sea.\n\n[Sidenote: And Findeth a Friend]\n\nPresently the last comer seemed to awake from his reverie. He walked\nover to the place where the other man was sitting, still gazing off\ntoward Joppa, and touched him on the shoulder: \"A thousand pardons, my\nfriend,\" he said, \"but my mind is haunted with some far-off\nrecollection, as though in some other land and some far-off time I had\nseen thy face. Wilt thou have the kindness to tell me thy name?\"\n\nWithout lifting his eyes from the sea, and in a tone which seemed\nregretful and sad, the stranger replied: \"My name is Gaspard.\"\n\n[Sidenote: A Far-off Pilgrimage Recalled]\n\n\"Gaspard! Indeed, then have I seen thee! Look at me, my friend; dost\nthou not remember me? My name is Melchoir. Dost thou not recall that\ntime, how long I know not, when thou and I and Balthazar followed a\nstar which led us to a little Jewish hamlet, thou bearing gold and I\nfrankincense, and Balthazar myrrh? Dost thou not remember how, on the\nlong journey thither, we talked about the young Prince, whom we\nexpected to find in a royal palace, and how at last when we reached\nthe village, following the star, we were led not to a palace but to a\nlittle inn, and not even to a room within the inn, but to the\nstable-yard, where we found a sweet-faced woman bending over a babe\ncradled in a manger; and standing near, a sturdy peasant, proud and\nhappy, whose name was Joseph? Dost thou not remember, too, that when\nwe had recovered from our surprise, we left our gifts and greetings,\nand went our way as men who had been dreaming? Gaspard, dost thou not\nremember?\"\n\n[Sidenote: And Wanderings in Many Lands]\n\nAnd Gaspard, looking now intently in the other's face, replied: \"Yes,\nMelchoir, I remember thee, and I remember the journey of which thou\nhast spoken better than I remember aught else. Neither have I\nforgotten the surprise and disappointment with which we came to the\nplace whither the star led us; nor how, after leaving our gifts, we\nwent away as in a dream; and, Melchoir, I have been dreaming ever\nsince. Even here hast thou found me in a dream of perplexity. I am\nstill Gaspard, the wandering magician; for how many years I know not,\nI have wandered up and down these lands of Europe. I have crossed the\nseas; in every place I have sought to find the kingdom over which we\nwere told this young prince was one day to reign. Dost thou not\nremember that we were told His kingdom was to last forever, that He\nwould reign in it himself forever and would never die? Alas! I have\nlost the old power of the magician's art. I can summon no star to\nguide me to the place where I shall find this kingdom and its king.\"\n\n[Sidenote: If Only Balthazar Were Here]\n\n\"Truly, Gaspard,\" answered Melchoir, \"the story of your wanderings is\nbut the repetition of my own; and even now was I drawn to this\nmountain summit on the self-same errand that brought you here,--to see\nif I could not discover in the direction of yonder land, where\nBethlehem was, some star which might prove to be His star, and which\nmight guide me in the new quest. If only our old companion, Balthazar,\nwere with us now, he might give us the clew to our search, for not\nonly was he more skilful in the magician's art, but he was braver and\nmore courageous, and withal more serene in spirit.\"\n\n[Sidenote: A Song in the Air]\n\nNow, even while Melchoir was speaking, a voice was heard a little way\ndown the mountain. Gaspard and Melchoir stopped to listen. The voice\nwas singing, and the words of the song floated up to them distinctly:\n\n    If the sun has hid its light,\n    If the day has turned to night,\n    If the heavens are not benign,\n    If the stars refuse to shine--\n\n                  Heart of man lose not thy hope;\n                  Door, there's none that shall not ope;\n                  Path, there's none that shall not clear;\n                  Heart of man! why shouldst thou fear?\n\n    If for years should be thy quest,\n    If for years thou hast no rest,\n    If thou circlest earth and sea,\n    If thou worn and weary be--\n\n                  Heart of man, lose not thy hope;\n                  Door, there's none that shall not ope;\n                  Path, there's none that shall not clear;\n                  Heart of man! why shouldst thou fear?\n\n[Sidenote: Balthazar Cometh]\n\n\"That,\" exclaimed Gaspard and Melchoir together, \"is the voice of\nBalthazar,\" and they hastened to meet him, for he was now almost at\nthe summit, and the refrain of his song was still upon his lips. At\nthat moment Balthazar sprang up from the sloping path into full view\nof the two men, and, giving each a hand, exclaimed: \"Gaspard,\nMelchoir, beloved companions, I have found you at last. The peasants\nbelow were not mistaken. From their description, I was certain I\nshould find you here. And you, too, have been searching these long\nyears for the kingdom of the Christ! and, like me, you have met with\ndisappointment; but, comrades, be not of faint heart:\n\n    Door, there's none that shall not ope;\n    Path, there's none that shall not clear.\n\nLet us hasten down the mountain, for see! the sky is already growing\ngold and crimson beyond the pillars of Hercules. Let us seek the\nwayfarer's lodging with the hospitable peasants in the valley, and\ntomorrow let us begin our search for the Christ anew. We have wandered\nalone; let us invoke now the star to guide us together.\"\n\n[Sidenote: Forget Not Hospitality]\n\nThat night, therefore, the three strangers lodged with the simple\npeasant people in the valley, partaking with thankfulness of the\ncoarse bread, the dates and the red wine--the common fare of their\ndaily life. Nor did they fail to notice a motto inscribed above the\nfireplace in rude Greek letters:\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn the morrow they were ready to begin their search together for the\nChrist, and they hoped not to wander far before they should find at\nleast the outskirts of His kingdom. But whither should they go? In\nwhat direction should they first turn their steps?\n\n[Sidenote: Once More a Star]\n\nWhile they were thus wondering and debating, Balthazar suddenly\nexclaimed: \"I see the star!\" And behold, a little way before them, and\nat no great distance above their heads, they discerned in the gray of\nthe early morning a star of pale, opal light, which seemed to move\nforward as the men moved toward it.\n\n\"We must follow the star!\" Balthazar said in a whisper. Silently and\nbreathlessly his companions followed on.\n\nNow, so intently did the three men keep their eyes fixed upon the\nstar, and so eagerly did they follow in the direction where it seemed\nto lead, that it was only after a considerable time they discovered\nthat they had become separated from each other, and that their paths\nwere getting farther and farther apart. Yet, there before each of them\nwas the star, shining with its soft, opalescent light, and still\nringing in their ears were the words of Balthazar--\"we must follow\nthe star.\"\n\n[Sidenote: The Star Stands Still]\n\nSo each followed the star, each by himself alone. Gaspard's path\nwound along near the shore of the gulfs and bays of the Mediterranean,\nuntil at last the the star turned southward and drew him nearer and\nnearer to a great city, and finally stood still over the dome of a\nvast cathedral. \"It must be,\" thought Gaspard, \"that I have come to\nthe end of my search. This must be the capital and palace of the\neternal king.\"\n\n[Sidenote: Marbled Aisle's Magnificence]\n\nThe square in front of the cathedral was thronged with people;\nmultitudes were pouring in through the great portals. Gaspard joined\nthe throngs, and at last found himself under the mighty dome, which\nseemed to him as far away as the sky itself. Everything in this\nwonderful place appealed to his imagination. There were great rows of\nmassive columns, symbol of a strength eternal, and they seemed like\nwide-open arms holding out a welcome to the human race. There were\nstatues and paintings by great masters in art. The light of the sun\npoured in through many-colored windows, on which were blazoned the\ndeeds of heroes and saints. Strains of music from the great organ in\nthe distance floated out upon the air. Touched and thrilled by all he\nsaw, Gaspard exclaimed to himself: \"The place on which I stand is\nholy ground.\"\n\n[Sidenote: Kyrie Eleison]\n\nSoon, however, he perceived that the throngs of people were not\nlingering, like himself, in awe and wonder over the great columns and\nthe dome, and the statues, and the paintings, and the windows. Their\neyes were fixed intently upon something that was going on in the far\nend of the cathedral. An altar was there, and priests in white robes\npassing up and down before it, and tall tapers burning around it. Near\nthe altar was the image of a man hanging from a cross; his hands and\nfeet were pierced with nails, and a cruel wound was in his side. The\npeople were gazing at this altar, and at the image, and at what the\nwhite-robed priests were doing. The strains of solemn music from the\norgan blended with the voices of priests chanting the service. Clouds\nof incense rose from censers, swung with solemn motion by the\naltar-boys, and the fragrance of the incense was wafted down the long\naisles. At last, the tinkling of a bell. The organ became silent for\nan instant, as though it felt within its heart the awful solemnity of\nthe moment; and then it burst forth into new rapture, and the people\nbegan pouring out through the great doors.\n\n[Sidenote: We Must Follow the Star]\n\nGaspard went forth with the throng into the cathedral square. \"And\nthis,\" he said, \"is the end of my search. I have found the Christ. His\nkingdom is in the imagination of man. How beautiful, how wonderful,\nhow strange it was! 'Dominus vobiscum,' did not the priests say? Here,\nthen, at last I have found the city of the great King.\"\n\nBut as he lingered, behold! the star which had stood over the dome\nof the cathedral was now before him, as at first, and seemed to waver\nand tremble, as if beckoning him on. So, although his feet seemed\nbound to the spot, and his heart was still throbbing with the deep\nfeelings the cathedral service had created in him, remembering the\nwords of Balthazar, \"we must follow the star,\" he slowly and reluctantly\nwalked on.\n\n[Sidenote: The Just Shall Live by Faith]\n\nIn the meantime Melchoir also had followed faithfully the path along\nwhich the star seemed to lead. Through forests in which he almost lost\nhis way, across rivers difficult and dangerous to ford--still he\nfollowed on. At length Melchoir's star seemed to tarry over the spire\nof a gothic church, into which the people were going in throngs.\nWaiting a moment, to be sure that the star was actually standing\nstill, Melchoir went in with the rest. In this place was no altar,\nsuch as Gaspard saw; no image on the cross; no white-robed priests; no\nswinging censers. But, as Melchoir entered he heard strains from the\norgan, and a chorus of voices was singing an anthem beginning with\nthe words, \"Te Deum Laudamus.\" And when the anthem came to a close, a\nman clothed in a black robe, such as scholars were wont to wear, rose\nin his place upon a platform elevated above the people, and began to\nspeak to them about the kingdom of Christ. Melchoir listened in eager\nexpectancy. [Sidenote: The Truth Shall Make You Free] \"The kingdom of\nthe Christ,\" the preacher said, \"is the kingdom of the truth, and the\ntruth is to be continued and kept alive by the strength of man's belief.\nThose things which have been handed down by holy men and sacred oracles\nsince Christ was here upon the earth, are the truths by which we live.\nHow can Christ live except He live in our beliefs? Why did the Father\nof all intrust us with our reasons, unless it were that we should\nmake them the instruments of our faith and our salvation? Let us\ntherefore stand in our places, while we recite together the articles\nof our holy faith.\"\n\nThese and many such words did the scholar-preacher declare. And as he\nsat there with the people, Melchoir felt the weight of the solemn and\nearnest words, and he said: \"So at last have I come to the end of my\nsearch. The kingdom of Christ is in the mind of man. His kingdom is\nthe kingdom of the truth.\"\n\n[Sidenote: More Light Shall Break Forth]\n\nThen he followed the throngs as they went forth from the church; but\nthe star which had tarried over the lofty spire was now before him,\nand the opal light wavered and trembled, as if beckoning him on; and\nthe words of the preacher, \"we must believe,\" seemed to blend with the\nwords of Balthazar, \"we must follow the star.\" So, reluctantly and\nslowly he followed on.\n\n[Sidenote: Thy Sacramental Liturgies]\n\nBut Balthazar--whither went he, following the star? Over many a rugged\nway, through many a tangled thicket, through valleys and over hills.\nHis star tarried over no cathedrals; it lingered over no Gothic\nspires. It seemed capricious and restless and tireless. At times it\nseemed intent on coming to a pause over the head of some human being,\nbut perhaps it was because these human beings themselves were so\nrestless and so busy that the star could not accomplish its intent.\nFor Balthazar saw these men and women hurrying hither and thither on\nerrands of mercy, or deeds of justice; he saw them ferreting out great\nwrongs, laying heavy blows on the backs of men who oppressed and\ndefrauded their fellow men.\n\nAt length Balthazar seemed to understand the movements of the star,\nand, drawing nearer, he would seem to hear these men repeating\ncheering and encouraging words to one another. \"Pure religion and\nundefiled,\" he heard one exclaiming, \"is to visit the fatherless and\nwidows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the\nworld.\" And another echoed, \"Inasmuch as we do it to the least of\nthese, we do it unto Christ.\"\n\n[Sidenote: The Joy of Doing Good]\n\n\"Ah! thought Balthazar as he listened, I see the meaning of it now; I\nam coming to the end of my search. The kingdom of Christ--I have found\nit. It is in the deeds of men; it is in the conscience and the serving\nwill. Devotion to right, this is the law of the kingdom of Christ.\"\n\nThen Balthazar turned to go in search of his comrades again; but\nbehold! the opal star was trembling, as if beckoning him on. So, still\ndoubting if he had reached the end of his search, he followed the\nstar.\n\n[Sidenote: The Paths Converge]\n\nThus Gaspard, Melchoir and Balthazar, each following the star, at last\napproached each other. The star of each seemed to melt and blend into\nthe star of the others, and the opal light stood at last in the center\nof the group. Gaspard exclaimed: \"I have found that which we all were\nseeking. The kingdom of Christ is in the imagination; Christ lives in\nwhat man feels.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Melchoir, \"I have followed the star, and I have found what\nwe sought. The kingdom of Christ is in the reason of man. Christ lives\nin what man believes.\"\n\n\"But,\" cried Balthazar, \"my star has led me to a different end. The\nkingdom of Christ is in the will of man. Christ lives in what man\ndoes.\"\n\n\"The truth,\" once more exclaimed Melchoir, \"is the law of the\nkingdom.\"\n\n\"Not truth,\" declared Balthazar, \"but justice, righteousness, goodness\nand purity--these are its laws and its marks.\"\n\n\"Nay, comrades beloved, hearken to me,\" answered Gaspard, \"it is the\nmiracle of the divine presence. It is God among men, realized in the\nholy mass. I beheld it all in yonder cathedral.\"\n\nBut lo! once more the star began to tremble and to change its place.\n\n\"Let us follow the star!\" Balthazar whispered. \"We will follow it,\"\nechoed the other two.\n\n[Sidenote: Once More the Quest]\n\nThen the star led them on, and they followed together until they came\nat length to the doorway of a little cottage; and within the cottage\nthey saw a woman bending over a cradle, and in the cradle a little\nchild lay sleeping. She was a peasant woman; her clothing was not\nrich; the furnishing of the cottage was humble and scanty. The cradle\nitself was rude, as if put together by hands unskilful in tasks like\nthat. But when the mother looked at her babe a sweet smile played\nabout her lips, and a light was in her eyes. Then all suddenly the\nthree men remembered another scene long before, when they were bearers\nof gold and frankincense and myrrh to another babe.\n\n[Sidenote: He That Loveth Knoweth God]\n\nAnd while they stood and wondered by the door, there came a strong and\nsturdy peasant, broad-shouldered, roughly clad, his face browned in\nthe sun, his hands hardened with toil. He came and stood beside the\nwoman, and they bent together over the cradle of the sleeping child,\nand the man drew the woman tenderly toward him and kissed her brow.\n\nAnd still the three men lingered; for behold! the star stood still\nabove the child, and they dared not speak. But the heart of Gaspard\nwas saying in silence, \"There is something greater than the repeated\nmiracle of the mass.\"\n\nAnd Melchoir was thinking, \"There is something mightier even than the\nmind; something superior to naked truth.\"\n\n[Sidenote: For God Is Love]\n\nAnd Balthazar was confessing to himself that he had found something\nmore potent even than the righteous deed. For here they all beheld\nhow life was made sweet and blessed and holy by the power of love; and\nby love for a little child, in whom was all weakness and helplessness,\nwhose only voice was a cry, but who was all strong and mighty with the\npower of God, because he could transform roughness into tenderness,\nand selfishness into loving care, and poverty itself into gifts of\ngold and fragrant myrrh.\n\n\"Truly, my comrades,\" Balthazar said, \"love is the greatest of all.\"\n\n\"And now I understand,\" said Gaspard, \"how the weak things of the\nworld can confound the mighty.\"\n\n\"And I,\" added Melchoir, \"see what it means for God to come to earth\nin the form of a little child.\"\n\nAnd so they turned away, and the radiance of the star was round about\nthem, and they were saying to each other: \"Our search at last is\nended.\"\n\n[*] Reprinted with the permission of \"The Sketching Club,\"\nIndianapolis, Ind.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE GRETCHEN AND THE WOODEN SHOE[*]\n\nBy Elizabeth Harrison\n\n\nOnce upon a time, a long time ago, far away across the great ocean, in\na country called Germany, there could be seen a small log hut on the\nedge of a great forest, whose fir trees extended for miles and miles\nto the north. This little house, made of heavy hewn logs, had but one\nroom in it. A rough pine door gave entrance to this room, and a small\nsquare window admitted the light. At the back of the house was built\nan old-fashioned stone chimney, out of which in winter curled a thin,\nblue smoke, showing that there was not very much fire within.\n\nSmall as the house was, it was large enough for two people who lived\nin it. I want to tell you a story today about these two people. One\nwas an old gray-haired woman, so old that the little children of the\nvillage, nearly half a mile away, often wondered whether she had come\ninto the world with the huge mountains and the giant fir trees, which\nstood like giants back of her small hut. Her face was wrinkled all\nover with deep lines, which, if the children could only have read\naright, would have told them of many years of cheerful, happy,\nself-sacrifice; of loving, anxious, watching beside sick-beds; of\nquiet endurance of pain, of many a day of hunger and cold, and of a\nthousand deeds of unselfish love for other people; but, of course,\nthey could not read this strange handwriting. They only knew that she\nwas old and wrinkled, and that she stooped as she walked. None of\nthem seemed to fear her, for her smile was always cheerful, and she\nhad a kindly word for each of them if they chanced to meet her on her\nway to and from the village. With this old, old woman lived a very\nlittle girl. So bright and happy was she that the travellers who\npassed by the lonesome little house on the edge of the forest often\nthought of a sunbeam as they saw her. These two people were known in\nthe village as Granny Goodyear and Little Gretchen.\n\nThe winter had come and the frost had snapped off many of the smaller\nbranches of the pine trees in the forest. Gretchen and her granny were\nup by daybreak each morning. After their simple breakfast of oatmeal,\nGretchen would run to the little closet and fetch Granny's old woolen\nshawl, which seemed almost as old as Granny herself. Gretchen always\nclaimed the right to put the shawl over Granny's head, even though she\nhad to climb onto the wooden bench to do it. After carefully pinning\nit under Granny's chin, she gave her a good-bye kiss, and Granny\nstarted out for her morning's work in the forest. This work was\nnothing more nor less than the gathering up of the twigs and branches\nwhich the autumn winds and winter frosts had thrown upon the ground.\nThese were carefully gathered into a large bundle which Granny tied\ntogether with a strong linen band. She then managed to lift the bundle\nto her shoulder and trudged off to the village with it. Here she sold\nthe fagots for kindling wood to the people of the village. Sometimes\nshe would get only a few pence each day, and sometimes a dozen or\nmore, but on this money little Gretchen and she managed to live; they\nhad their home, and the forest kindly furnished the wood for the fire\nwhich kept them warm in winter.\n\nIn the summer time Granny had a little garden at the back of the\nhouse, where she raised, with little Gretchen's help, a few potatoes\nand turnips and onions. These she carefully stored away for winter\nuse. To this meagre supply, the pennies, gained by selling the twigs\nfrom the forest, added the oatmeal for Gretchen and a little black\ncoffee for Granny. Meat was a thing they never thought of having. It\ncost too much money. Still, Granny and Gretchen were very happy,\nbecause they loved each other dearly. Sometimes Gretchen would be left\nalone all day long in the hut, because Granny would have some work to\ndo in the village after selling her bundle of sticks and twigs. It was\nduring these long days that little Gretchen had taught herself to sing\nthe song which the wind sang to the pine branches. In the summer time\nshe learned the chirp and twitter of the birds, until her voice might\nalmost be mistaken for a bird's voice, she learned to dance as the\nswaying shadows did, and even to talk to the stars which shone through\nthe little square window when Granny came home late or too tired to\ntalk.\n\nSometimes, when the weather was fine, or her Granny had an extra\nbundle of knitted stockings to take to the village, she would let\nlittle Gretchen go along with her. It chanced that one of these trips\nto the town came just the week before Christmas, and Gretchen's eyes\nwere delighted by the sight of the lovely Christmas trees which stood\nin the window of the village store. It seemed to her that she would\nnever tire of looking at the knit dolls, the woolly lambs, the little\nwooden shops with their queer, painted men and women in them, and all\nthe other fine things. She had never owned a plaything in her whole\nlife; therefore, toys which you and I would not think much of seemed\nto her very beautiful.\n\nThat night, after their supper of baked potatoes was over, and little\nGretchen had cleared away the dishes and swept up the hearth, because\nGranny dear was so tired, she brought her own little wooden stool and\nplaced it very near Granny's feet and sat down upon it, folding her\nhands on her lap. Granny knew that this meant that she wanted to be\ntold about something, so she smilingly laid away the large Bible which\nshe had been reading, and took up her knitting, which was as much as\nto say: \"Well, Gretchen, dear, Granny is ready to listen.\"\n\n\"Granny,\" said Gretchen slowly, \"It's almost Christmas time, isn't\nit?\"\n\n\"Yes, dearie,\" said Granny, \"only five days more now,\" and then she\nsighed, but little Gretchen was so happy that she did not notice\nGranny's sigh.\n\n\"What do you think, Granny, I'll get this Christmas?\" said she,\nlooking up eagerly into Granny's face.\n\n\"Ah, child, child,\" said Granny, shaking her head, \"you'll have no\nChristmas this year. We are too poor for that.\"\n\n\"Oh, but Granny,\" interrupted little Gretchen, \"think of all the\nbeautiful toys we saw in the village today. Surely Santa Claus has\nsent enough for every little child.\"\n\n\"Ah, dearie, those toys are for people who can pay for them, and we\nhave no money to spend for Christmas toys.\"\n\n\"Well, Granny,\" said Gretchen, \"perhaps some of the little children\nwho live in the great house on the hill at the other end of the\nvillage, will be willing to share some of their toys with me. They\nwill be glad to give some to a little girl who has none.\"\n\n\"Dear child, dear child,\" said Granny, leaning forward and stroking\nthe soft, shiny hair of the little girl, \"your heart is full of love.\nYou would be glad to bring a Christmas to every child; but their heads\nare so full of what they are going to get that they forget all about\nanybody else but themselves.\" Then she sighed and shook her head.\n\n\"Well, Granny,\" said Gretchen, her bright, happy tone of voice growing\na little less joyous, \"perhaps the dear Santa Claus will show some of\nthe village children how to make presents that do not cost money, and\nsome of them may surprise me Christmas morning with a present. And,\nGranny, dear,\" added she, springing up from her low stool, \"can't I\ngather some of the pine branches and take them to the old sick man who\nlives in the house by the mill, so that he can have the sweet smell of\nour forest in his room all Christmas day?\"\n\n\"Yes, dearie,\" said Granny, \"you may do what you can to make the\nChristmas bright and happy, but you must not expect any present\nyourself.\"\n\n\"Oh, but, Granny,\" said little Gretchen, her face brightening, \"you\nforgot all about the shining Christmas angels, who came down to earth\nand sang their wonderful song the night the beautiful Christ-Child was\nborn! They are so loving and good that _they_ will not forget any\nlittle child. I shall ask my dear stars tonight to tell them of us.\nYou know,\" she added, with a look of relief, \"the stars are so very\nhigh that they must know the angels quite well as they come and go\nwith their messages from the loving God.\"\n\nGranny sighed as she half whispered. \"Poor child, poor child!\" but\nGretchen threw her arm around Granny's neck and gave her a hearty\nkiss, saying as she did so: \"Oh, Granny, Granny, you don't talk to the\nstars often enough, else you would not be sad at Christmas time.\" Then\nshe danced all around the room, whirling her little skirts about her\nto show Granny how the wind had made the snow dance that day. She\nlooked so droll and funny that Granny forgot her cares and worries and\nlaughed with little Gretchen over her new snow dance. The days passed\non and the morning before Christmas Eve came. Gretchen having tidied\nup the little room--for Granny had taught her to be a careful little\nhousewife--was off to the forest, singing a birdlike song, almost as\nhappy and free as the birds themselves. She was very busy that day\npreparing a surprise for Granny. First, however, she gathered the most\nbeautiful of the fir branches within her reach to take the next\nmorning to the old sick man who lived by the mill.\n\nThe day was all too short for the happy little girl. When Granny came\ntrudging wearily home that night, she found the frame of the doorway\ncovered with green pine branches.\n\n\"It is to welcome you, Granny! It is to welcome you!\" cried Gretchen;\n\"our dear old home wanted to give you a Christmas welcome. Don't you\nsee, the branches of the evergreen make it look as if it were smiling\nall over, and it is trying to say, 'A happy Christmas to you Granny'.\"\n\nGranny laughed and kissed the little girl, as they opened the door and\nwent in together. Here was a new surprise for Granny. The four posts\nof the wooden bed, which stood in one corner of the room, had been\ntrimmed by the busy little fingers, with smaller and more flexible\nbranches of the pine trees. A small bouquet of red mountain ash\nberries stood at each side of the fireplace, and these, together with\nthe trimmed posts of the bed, gave the plain old room quite a festive\nlook. Gretchen laughed and clapped her hands and danced about until\nthe house seemed full of music to poor, tired Granny, whose heart had\nbeen sad as she turned toward their home that night, thinking of the\ndisappointment that must come to loving little Gretchen the next\nmorning.\n\nAfter supper was over little Gretchen drew her stool up to Granny's\nside, and laying her soft, little hands on Granny's knee asked to be\ntold once again the story of the coming of the Christ-Child; how the\nnight that he was born the beautiful angels had sung their wonderful\nsong, and how the whole sky had become bright with a strange and\nglorious light, never seen by the people of earth before. Gretchen had\nheard the story many, many times before, but she never grew tired of\nit, and now that Christmas Eve had come again, the happy little child\nwanted to hear it once more.\n\nWhen Granny had finished telling it the two sat quiet and silent for a\nlittle while thinking it over; then Granny rose and said that it was\ntime for her to go to bed. She slowly took off her heavy wooden shoes,\nsuch as are worn in that country, and placed them beside the hearth.\nGretchen looked thoughtfully at them for a minute or two, and then she\nsaid, \"Granny, don't you think that _somebody_ in all this wide world\nwill think of us tonight?\"\n\n\"Nay, Gretchen, I do not think any one will.\"\n\n\"Well, then, Granny,\" said Gretchen, \"the Christmas angels will, I\nknow; so I am going to take one of your wooden shoes and put it on the\nwindowsill outside, so that they may see it as they pass by. I am sure\nthe stars will tell the Christmas angels where the shoe is.\"\n\n\"Ah, you foolish, foolish child,\" said Granny, \"you are only getting\nready for a disappointment. Tomorrow morning there will be nothing\nwhatever in the shoe. I can tell you that now.\"\n\nBut little Gretchen would not listen. She only shook her head and\ncried out: \"Ah, Granny, you do not talk enough to the stars.\" With\nthis she seized the shoe, and opening the door, hurried out to place\nit on the window sill. It was very dark without and something soft and\ncold seemed to gently kiss her hair and face. Gretchen knew by this\nthat it was snowing, and she looked up to the sky, anxious to see if\nthe stars were in sight, but a strong wind was tumbling the dark,\nheavy snow-clouds about and had shut away all else.\n\n\"Never mind,\" said Gretchen softly to herself, \"the stars are up\nthere, even if I can't see them, and the Christmas angels do not mind\nsnow storms.\"\n\nJust then a rough wind went sweeping by the little girl, whispering\nsomething to her which she could not understand, and then it made a\nsudden rush up to the snow clouds and parted them, so that the deep\nmysterious sky appeared beyond, and shining down out of the midst of\nit was Gretchen's favorite star.\n\n\"Ah, little star, little star!\" said the child, laughing aloud, \"I\nknew you were there, though I could not see you. Will you whisper to\nthe Christmas angels as they come by that little Gretchen wants so\nvery much to have a Christmas gift tomorrow morning, if they have one\nto spare, and that she has put one of Granny's shoes upon the\nwindowsill for it?\"\n\nA moment more and the little girl, standing on tiptoe had reached the\nwindowsill and placed the shoe upon it, and was back again in the\nhouse beside Granny and the warm fire.\n\nThe two went quietly to bed, and that night as little Gretchen knelt\nto pray to the Heavenly Father, she thanked him for having sent the\nChrist-Child into the world to teach all mankind to be loving and\nunselfish, and in a few minutes she was sleeping, dreaming of the\nChristmas angels.\n\nThe next morning, very early, even before the sun was up, little\nGretchen was awakened by the sound of sweet music coming from the\nvillage. She listened for a moment and then she knew that the choir\nboys were singing the Christmas carols in the open air of the village\nstreet. She sprang up out of bed and began to dress herself as quickly\nas possible, singing as she dressed. While Granny was slowly putting\non her clothes, little Gretchen having finished dressing herself,\nunfastened the door and hurried out to see what the Christmas angels\nhad left in the old wooden shoe.\n\nThe white snow covered everything--trees, stumps, roads, and\npastures--until the whole world looked like fairy land. Gretchen\nclimbed up on a large stone which was beneath the window and carefully\nlifted down the wooden shoe. The snow tumbled off of it in a shower\nover the little girl's hands, but she did not heed that; she ran\nhurriedly back into the house, putting her hand into the toe of the\nshoe as she ran.\n\n\"Oh, Granny, Granny!\" she exclaimed; \"you did not believe the\nChristmas angels would think about us, but see, they have, they have!\nHere is a dear little bird nestled down in the toe of your shoe! Oh,\nisn't he beautiful?\"\n\nGranny came forward and looked at what the child was holding lovingly\nin her hand. There she saw a tiny chick-a-dee, whose wing was\nevidently broken by the rough and boisterous winds of the night\nbefore, and who had taken shelter in the safe, dry toe of the old\nwooden shoe. She gently took the little bird out of Gretchen's hands,\nand skilfully bound his broken wing to his side, so that he need not\nhurt himself trying to fly with it. Then she showed Gretchen how to\nmake a nice warm nest for the little stranger, close beside the fire\nand when their breakfast was ready, she let Gretchen feed the little\nbird with a few moist crumbs.\n\nLater in the day Gretchen carried the fresh, green boughs to the old\nsick man by the mill, and on her way home stopped to enjoy the\nChristmas toys of some other children that she knew, never once\nwishing they were hers. When she reached home she found that the\nlittle bird had gone to sleep. Soon, however, he opened his eyes and\nstretched his head up, saying just as plain as a bird can say:\n\n\"Now, my new friends, I want you to give me something more to eat.\"\nGretchen gladly fed him again, and then, holding him in her lap, she\nsoftly and gently stroked his gray feathers until the little creature\nseemed to lose all fear of her. That evening Granny taught her a\nChristmas hymn and told her another beautiful Christmas story. Then\nGretchen made up a funny little story to tell the birdie. He winked\nhis eyes and turned his head from side to side in such a droll fashion\nthat Gretchen laughed until the tears came.\n\nAs Granny and she got ready for bed that night, Gretchen put her arms\nsoftly around Granny's neck, and whispered: \"What a beautiful\nChristmas we have had today, Granny. Is there anything more lovely in\nall the world than Christmas?\"\n\n\"Nay, child, nay,\" said Granny, \"not to such loving hearts as yours.\"\n\n[*] Reprinted by permission of the author from her collection,\n\"Christmastide.\" Published by the Chicago Kindergarten College.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE SHEPHERD[*]\n\nBy Maud Lindsay\n\n\nThe shepherd was sick and the shepherd's wife looked out from her door\nwith anxious eyes. \"Who will carry the sheep to the pasture lands\ntoday?\" she said to her little boy Jean.\n\n\"I will,\" cried Jean, \"I will. Mother, let me.\"\n\nJean and his father and mother lived long ago in a sunny land across\nthe sea, where flowers bloom, and birds sing, and shepherds feed their\nflocks in the green valleys. Every morning, as soon as it was light,\nJean's father was up and away with his sheep. He had never missed a\nmorning before, and the sheep were bleating in the fold as if to say,\n\"Don't forget us today.\"\n\nThe sheep were Jean's playfellows. There was nothing he liked better\nthan to wander with them in the pleasant pastures, and already they\nknew his voice and followed at his call.\n\n\"Let the lad go,\" said his old grandfather. \"When I was no older than\nhe I watched my father's flock.\"\n\nJean's father said the same thing, so the mother made haste to get the\nlittle boy ready.\n\n\"Eat your dinner when the shadows lie straight across the grass,\" she\nsaid as she kissed him good-bye.\n\n\"And keep the sheep from the forest paths,\" called his sick father.\n\n\"And watch, for it is when the shepherd is not watching that the wolf\ncomes to the flock,\" said the old grandfather.\n\n\"Never fear,\" said little Jean. \"The wolf shall not have any of my\nwhite lambs.\"\n\nThey were white sheep and black sheep and frolicsome lambs in the\nshepherd's flock, and each one had a name of its own. There was\nBabbette, and Nannette, and Pierrot, and Jeannot,--I cannot tell them\nall, but Jean knew every name.\n\n\"Come, Bettine and Marie. Come, Pierrot and Croisette. Come, pretty\nones all,\" he called as he led them from the fold that day. \"I will\ncarry you to the meadows where the daisies grow.\"\n\n\"Baa,\" answered the sheep, well satisfied, as they followed him down\nthe king's highway, and over the hill to the pasture lands.\n\nThe other shepherds were already there with their flocks, so Jean was\nnot lonely. He watered his sheep at the dancing brook that ran through\nthe flowers, and led them along its shady banks to feed in the sunny\nfields beyond, and not one lambkin strayed from his care to the forest\npaths.\n\nThe forest lay dim and shadowy on one side of the pasture lands. The\ndeer lived there, and the boars that fed upon acorns, and many other\ncreatures that loved the wild woods. There had been wolves in the\nforest, but the king's knights had driven them away and the shepherds\nfeared them no longer. Only the old men like Jean's grandfather, and\nthe little boys like Jean, talked of them still.\n\nJean was not afraid. Oh, no. There was not a lamb in the flock so\nmerry and fearless as he. He sang with the birds and ran with the\nbrook, and laughed till the echoes laughed with him as he watched the\nsheep from early morn to noon, when the shadows fell straight across\nthe grass and it was time for him to eat his dinner.\n\nThere were little cakes in Jean's dinner basket. He had seen his\nmother put them there, but he had not tasted a single one when, out on\nthe king's highway, beyond the hill, he heard the sound of pipes and\ndrums, and the tramp, tramp of many feet.\n\nThe other shepherds heard too, and they began to listen and to stare\nand to run. \"The king and his knights are coming,\" they cried. \"Come\nlet us see them as they pass by.\"\n\n\"Who will take care of the sheep?\" asked Jean, but nobody answered, so\nhe too left his dinner and ran with the rest, away from the pastures\nand up the hillside path that led to the highway.\n\n\"How pleased my mother will be when I tell her that I have seen the\nking,\" he said to himself, and he was hurrying over the hill top when\nall at once he remembered the forest, and the wolf, and his\ngrandfather's words.\n\n\"Come on,\" called the others.\n\n\"I must stay with the sheep,\" answered he; and he turned and went\nback, though the pipes and the drums all seemed to say, \"Come this\nway, come this way.\" He could scarcely keep from crying as he\nlistened.\n\nThere was nothing in sight to harm the sheep, and the pasture lands\nwere quiet and peaceful, but into the forest that very day a hungry\ngray wolf had come. His eyes were bright and his ears were sharp and\nhis four feet were as soft as velvet, as he came creeping, creeping,\ncreeping under the houses and through the tanglewood. He put his nose\nout and sniffed the air, and he put his head out and spied the sheep\nleft alone in the meadows. \"Now's my chance,\" he said, and out he\nsprang just as little Jean down the hill.\n\n\"Wolf, wolf, wolf!\" shouted Jean. \"Wolf, wolf, wolf!\" He was only a\nlittle boy, but he was brave and his voice rang clear as a bugle call\nover the valley, and over the hill, \"Wolf, wolf, wolf!\"\n\nThe shepherds and knights and the king himself came running and riding\nto answer his cry, and as for the gray wolf, he did not even stop to\nlook behind him as he sped away to the forest shades. He ran so fast\nand he ran so far that he was never seen in the king's country again,\nthough the shepherds in the pastures watched for him day after day.\n\nJean led his flock home at eventide, white sheep and black sheep and\nfrolicsome lambs, not one was missing.\n\n\"Was the day long?\" asked his mother, who was watching in the doorway\nfor him.\n\n\"Are the sheep all in?\" called the sick father.\n\n\"Did the wolf come?\" said the old grandfather; but there is no need\nfor me to tell you what _Jean_ said. You can imagine that for\nyourself.\n\n[*] From \"More Mother Stories,\" by Maud Lindsay. Used by permission of\nthe author and the publishers--the Milton Bradley Company.\n\n\n\n\nBABOUSCKA[*]\n\nRussian Legend\n\n\nIt was the night the dear Christ Child came to Bethlehem. In a country\nfar away from Him, an old, old woman named Babouscka sat in her snug\nlittle house by her warm fire. The wind was drifting the snow outside\nand howling down the chimney, but it only made Babouscka's fire burn\nmore brightly.\n\n\"How glad I am that I may stay indoors!\" said Babouscka, holding her\nhands out to the bright blaze. But suddenly she heard a loud rap at\nher door. She opened it and her candle shone on three old men standing\noutside in the snow. Their beards were as white as the snow, and so\nlong that they reached the ground. Their eyes shone kindly in the\nlight of Babouscka's candle, and their arms were full of precious\nthings--boxes of jewels, and sweet-smelling oils, and ointments.\n\n\"We have traveled far, Babouscka,\" said they, \"and we stop to tell you\nof the Baby Prince born this night in Bethlehem. He comes to rule the\nworld and teach all men to be loving and true. We carry Him gifts.\nCome with us, Babouscka!\"\n\nBut Babouscka looked at the driving snow, and then inside at her cozy\nroom and the crackling fire. \"It is too late for me to go with you,\ngood sirs,\" she said, \"the weather is too cold.\" She went inside again\nand shut the door, and the old men journeyed on to Bethlehem without\nher. But as Babouscka sat by her fire, rocking, she began to think\nabout the little Christ Child, for she loved all babies.\n\n\"Tomorrow I will go to find Him,\" she said; \"tomorrow, when it is\nlight, and I will carry Him some toys.\"\n\nSo when it was morning Babouscka put on her long cloak, and took her\nstaff, and filled a basket with the pretty things a baby would\nlike--gold balls, and wooden toys, and strings of silver cobwebs--and\nshe set out to find the Christ Child.\n\nBut, oh! Babouscka had forgotten to ask the three old men the road to\nBethlehem, and they had traveled so far through the night that she\ncould not overtake them. Up and down the roads she hurried, through\nwoods and fields and towns, saying to whomsoever she met: \"I go to\nfind the Christ Child. Where does he lie? I bring some pretty toys for\nHis sake.\"\n\nBut no one could tell her the way to go, and they all said: \"Farther\non, Babouscka, farther on.\" So she traveled on, and on, and on for\nyears and years--but she never found the little Christ Child.\n\nThey say that old Babouscka is traveling still, looking for Him. When\nit comes Christmas eve, and the children are lying fast asleep,\nBabouscka comes softly through the snowy fields and towns, wrapped in\nher long cloak and carrying her basket on her arm. With her staff she\nraps gently at the doors and goes inside and holds her candle close to\nthe little children's faces.\n\n\"Is He here?\" she asks. \"Is the little Christ Child here?\" And then\nshe turns sorrowfully away again, crying: \"Farther on, farther on.\"\nBut before she leaves she takes a toy from her basket and lays it\nbeside the pillow for a Christmas gift. \"For His sake,\" she says\nsoftly and then hurries on through the years and forever in search of\nthe little Christ Child.\n\n[*] From \"For the Children's Hour,\" by Bailey and Lewis. Used by\npermission of the authors and also the publishers--Milton Bradley\nCompany.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOY WITH THE BOX\n\nBy Mary Griggs Van Voorhis\n\n\nIt was an ideal Christmas day. The sun shone brightly but the air was\ncrisp and cold, and snow and ice lay sparkling everywhere. A light\nwind, the night before, had swept the blue, icebound river clean of\nscattering snow; and, by two o'clock in the afternoon, the broad bend\nnear Creighton's mill was fairly alive with skaters. The girls in gay\ncaps and scarfs, the boys in sweaters and mackinaws of every\nconceivable hue, with here and there a plump, matronly figure in a\nplush coat or a tiny fellow in scarlet, made a picture of life and\nbrilliancy worthy of an artist's finest skill.\n\nTom Reynolds moved in and out among the happy throng, with swift, easy\nstrokes, his cap on the back of his curly head, and his brown eyes\nshining with excitement. Now and again, he glanced down with\npardonable pride, at the brand new skates that twinkled beneath his\nfeet. \"Jolly Ramblers,\" sure enough \"Jolly Ramblers\" they were! Ever\nsince Ralph Evans had remarked, with a tantalizing toss of his\nhandsome head, that \"no game fellow would try to skate on anything but\n'Jolly Ramblers,'\" Tom had yearned, with an inexpressible longing, for\na pair of these wonderful skates. And now they were his and the ice\nwas fine and the Christmas sun was shining!\n\nTom was rounding the big bend for the fiftieth time, when he saw,\nskimming gracefully toward him through the merry crowd, a tall boy in\na fur-trimmed coat, his handsome head proudly erect.\n\n\"That's Ralph Evans now,\" said Tom to himself. \"Just wait till you see\nthese skates, old boy, and maybe you won't feel so smart!\" And with\nslow, cautious strokes, he made his way through laughing boys and\ngirls to a place just in front of the tall skater, coming toward him\ndown the broad white way. When Ralph was almost upon him, Tom paused\nand in conspicuous silence, looked down at his shining skates.\n\n\"Hullo,\" said Ralph good naturedly, seizing Tom's arm and swinging\naround. Then, taking in the situation with a careless glance, he\nadded, \"Get a new pair of skates for Christmas?\"\n\n\"'Jolly Ramblers,'\" said Tom impressively, \"the best 'Jolly Ramblers'\nin the market!\"\n\nRalph was a full half head the taller, but, as Tom delivered himself\nof this speech with his head held high, he felt every inch as tall as\nthe boy before him.\n\nIf Ralph was deeply impressed he failed to show it, as he answered\ncarelessly, \"Huh, that so? Pretty good little skates they are, the\n'Jolly Ramblers!'\"\n\n\"You said no game fellow would use any other make,\" said Tom hotly.\n\n\"O but that was nearly a year ago,\" said Ralph. \"I got a new pair of\nskates for Christmas, too,\" he added, as if it had just occurred to\nhim, \"'Club House' skates, something new in the market just this\nseason. Just look at the curve of that skate, will you?\" he added,\nlifting a foot for inspection, \"and that clamp that you couldn't shake\noff if you had to! They're guaranteed for a year, too, and if anything\ngives out, you get a new pair for nothing. Three and a half, they\ncost, at Mr. Harrison's hardware store. I gave my 'Jolly Ramblers' to\na kid about your size. A mighty good little skate they are!\" And, with\na long, graceful stroke, Ralph Evans skated away.\n\nAnd it seemed to Tom Reynolds that all his Christmas joy went skimming\naway behind him. The sun still shone, the ice still gleamed, the\nskaters laughed and sang, but Tom moved slowly on, with listless,\nheavy strokes. The \"Jolly Ramblers\" still twinkled beneath his feet,\nbut he looked down at them no more. What was the use of \"Jolly\nRamblers\" when Ralph Evans had a pair of \"Club House\" skates that cost\na dollar more, had a graceful curve, and a faultless clamp, and were\nguaranteed for a year?\n\nIt was only four o'clock when Tom slipped his new skates carelessly\nover his shoulder and started up the bank for home. He was slouching\ndown the main street, head down, hands thrust deep into his pockets,\nwhen, on turning a corner, he ran plump into--a full moon! Now I know\nit is rather unusual for full moons to be walking about the streets by\ndaylight; but that is the only adequate description of the round,\nfreckled face that beamed at Tom from behind a great box, held by two\nsturdy arms.\n\n\"That came pretty near being a collision,\" said the owner of the full\nmoon, still beaming, as he set down the box and leaned against a\nbuilding to rest a moment.\n\n\"Nobody hurt, I guess,\" said Tom.\n\n\"Been down to the ice?\" asked the boy, eagerly. \"I could see the\nskaters from Patton's store. O, I see, you got some new skates for\nChristmas! Ain't they beauties, now?\" And he beamed on the despised\n\"Jolly Ramblers\" with his heart in his little blue eyes.\n\n\"A pretty good little pair of skates,\" said Tom, in Ralph's\ncondescending tone.\n\n\"Good! Well I should guess yes! And Christmas ice just made o'\npurpose!\" In spite of his ill humor, Tom could not help responding to\nthe warm interest of the shabby boy at his side. He knew him to be\nHarvey McGinnis, the son of a poor Irish widow, who worked at Patton's\ndepartment store out of school hours. Looking at the great box with an\nawakening interest, he remarked, kindly, \"What you been doin' with\nyourself on Christmas day?\"\n\n\"Want to know, sure enough?\" said Harvey, mysteriously, his round face\nbeaming more brightly than ever, \"Well, I've been doin' the Santy\nClaus act down at Patton's store.\n\n\"About a week ago,\" he went on, leaning back easily against the tall\nbuilding and thrusting his hands down deep into his well worn pockets,\n\"about a week ago, as I was cleaning out the storeroom, I came on\nthree big boxes with broken dolls in 'em. Beauties they were, I kin\ntell you, the Lady Jane in a blue silk dress, the Lady Clarabel in\npink, and the Lady Matilda in shimmerin' white. Nothin' wrong with 'em\neither only broken rubbers that put their jints out o' whack and set\ntheir heads arollin' this way and that. 'They could be fixed in no\ntime, I ses to myself, 'and what a prize they'd be fer the kids to be\nsure!' For mom and me had racked our brains considerable how we'd\nscrape together the money for Christmas things for the girls.\n\n\"So I went to the boss and I asked him right out what he'd charge me\nfor the three ladies just as they wus, and he ses, 'Jimmie,' he ses\n(I've told him me name a dozen times, but he allus calls me 'Jimmie'),\n'Jimmie,' he ses, 'if you'll come down on Christmas day and help me\ntake down the fixin's and fix up the store for regular trade, I'll\ngive you the dolls fer nothin',' he ses.\n\n\"So I explained to the kids that Santy'd be late to our house this\nyear (with so many to see after it wouldn't be strange) and went down\nto the store early this morning and finished me work and fixed up the\nladies es good es new. Would you like to be seein' 'em, now?\" he\nadded, turning to the great box with a look of pride.\n\n\"Sure, I'd like to see 'em,\" said Tom.\n\nWith careful, almost reverent touch, Harvey untied the string and\nopened the large box, disclosing three smaller boxes, one above the\nother. Opening the first box, he revealed a really handsome doll in a\nblue silk dress, with large dark eyes that opened and shut and dark,\ncurling locks of \"real hair.\"\n\n\"This is the Lady Jane,\" he said, smoothing her gay frock with gentle\nfingers. \"We're goin' to give her to Kitty. Kitty's hair is pretty and\ncurly, but she hates it, 'cause it's red; and she thinks black hair is\nthe prettiest kind in the world. Ain't it funny how all of us will be\nwantin' what we don't have ourselves?\"\n\nTom did not reply to this bit of philosophy; but he laid a repentant\nhand on the \"Jolly Ramblers\" as if he knew he had wronged them in his\nheart. \"That's as handsome a doll as ever I saw and no mistake,\" he\nsaid.\n\nPleased with this praise, Harvey opened the second box and disclosed\nthe Lady Matilda with fair golden curls and a dress of \"shimmerin'\nwhite.\" \"The Lady Matilda goes to Josephine,\" said Harvey. \"Josephine\nhas black hair, straight as a string, and won't she laugh, though, to\nsee them fetchin' yellow curls?\"\n\n\"She surely ought to be glad,\" said Tom.\n\nThe Lady Clarabel was another fair-haired lady in a gown of the\nbrightest pink. \"This here beauty's for the baby,\" said Harvey, his\neyes glowing. \"She don't care if the hair's black or yellow, but won't\nthat stunnin' dress make her eyes pop out?\"\n\n\"They'll surely believe in Santy when they see those beauties,\" said\nTom.\n\n\"That's just what I was sayin' to mom this morning,\" said Harvey.\n\"Kitty's had some doubts, (she's almost nine), but when she sees those\nfine ladies she'll be dead sure mom and I didn't buy 'em. If I had a\nSanty Claus suit, I'd dress up and hand 'em out myself.\"\n\nTom's face lighted with a bright idea. \"My brother Bob's got a Santa\nClaus suit that he used in a show last Christmas,\" he said. \"Say, let\nme dress up and play Santa for you. The girls would never guess who I\nwas!\"\n\n\"Wouldn't they stare, though!\" said Harvey, delightedly. \"But do you\nthink you'd want to take time,\" he asked apologetically, \"and you with\na new pair of skates and the ice like this?\"\n\n\"Of course, I want to if you'll let me,\" said Tom. \"I'll skate down\nthe river and meet you anywhere you say.\"\n\n\"Out in our back yard, then, at seven o'clock,\" said Harvey.\n\n\"All right, I'll be there!\" and with head up, and skates clinking, Tom\nhurried away.\n\nIt was a flushed, excited boy who burst into the Reynolds' quiet\nsitting room a few minutes later, with his skates still hanging on his\nshoulder and his cap in his hand. \"Say, mother,\" he cried, \"can I have\nBob's Santa Claus suit this evening, please? I'm going to play Santa\nClaus for Harvey McGinnis!\"\n\n\"Play Santa Claus for Harvey McGinnis. What do you mean, child?\"\n\n\"You know Mrs. McGinnis, mother, that poor woman who lives in the\nlittle house by the river. Her husband got killed on the railroad last\nwinter, you know. Well, Harvey, her boy, has fixed up some grand\nlooking dolls for his sisters and he wants me to come out and play\nSanta tonight,\" and Tom launched out into a long story about Harvey\nand his good fortune.\n\n\"He must be a splendid boy,\" said Mrs. Reynolds, heartily, \"and I am\nsure I shall be glad to have you go.\"\n\n\"And another thing, mother,\" said Tom, hesitating a little, \"do you\nthink grandma would care if I spent part of that five dollars she gave\nme for a pair of skates for Harvey? He hasn't any skates at all, and I\nknow he'd just love to have some!\"\n\n\"It is generous of you to think of it,\" said his mother, much pleased,\n\"and you would still have two and a half for that little trip down to\ngrandma's.\"\n\n\"But I'd like to get him some 'Club House' skates,\" said Tom. \"They're\na new kind that cost three dollars and a half.\"\n\n\"But I thought you said the 'Jolly Ramblers' were the best skates\nmade?\" Mrs. Reynolds looked somewhat hurt as she glanced from Tom to\nthe skates on his shoulder and back to Tom again.\n\n\"They are, mother, they're just dandies!\" said Tom blushing with\nshame that he could ever have despised his mother's gift. \"But these\n'Club House' skates are just the kind for Harvey. You see, Harvey's\nshoes are old and worn, and these 'Club House' skates have clamps that\nyou can't shake loose if you have to. Then, if anything happens to\nthem before the year's up, you get a new pair free; and Harvey, you\nknow, wouldn't have any money to be fixing skates.\"\n\n\"Well, do as you like,\" said Mrs. Reynolds, pleased with Tom's\neagerness, for such a spell of generosity was something new in her\nselfish younger son. \"But remember, you will have to wait a while for\nyour visit to grandma.\"\n\n\"All right, and thank you, mother,\" said Tom. \"You can buy the skates\ndown at Harrison's and I'm going over and ask Mr. Harrison if he won't\nopen up the store and get a pair for me for a special time like this.\nI'm most sure he will!\" and away he flew.\n\nThat evening, at seven, as the moon was rising over the eastern hills,\na short, portly Santa Claus stepped out of the dry reeds by the river\nbank and walked with wonderfully nimble feet, right into the McGinnis'\nlittle back yard. As he neared the small back porch, a dark figure\nrose to greet him, one hand held up in warning, the other holding at\narm's length, a bulky grain sack, full to the brim.\n\n\"Here's yer pack, Santy,\" he whispered, gleefully. \"They're all\nwaitin' in the front room yonder. I'll slip in the back way, whilst\nyou go round and give a good thump at the front door and mom'll let\nyou in.\"\n\nTrembling with eagerness, Tom tiptoed round the house, managing to\nslip an oblong package into the capacious depths of the big sack as\nhe did so. Thump, thump! how his knock reechoed in the frosty air! The\ndoor swung wide, and Mrs. McGinnis' gaunt figure stood before him.\n\n\"Good evenin', Santy, come right in,\" she said.\n\nTom had always thought what a homely woman Harvey's mother was when he\nhappened to meet her at the grocery, with her thin red hair drawn\nseverely back from her gaunt face, and a black shawl over her head.\nBut as he looked up into her big, kind face, so full of Christmas\nsunshine, he wondered he could ever have thought her anything but\nlovely. The room was small and bare, but wonderfully gay with pine and\nbits of red and green crepe paper, saved from the 'fixins' at the\nstore. And on a large bed in the corner sat the three little girls,\nKitty with her bright curls bobbing, Josephine with her black braids\nsticking straight out, and the baby with tiny blue eyes that twinkled\nand shone like Harvey's.\n\nThe fine speech that Tom had been saying over to himself for the past\ntwo hours seemed to vanish into thin air before this excited little\naudience. But in faltering, stammering tones, which everyone was too\nexcited to notice, he managed to say something about \"Merry Christmas\"\nand \"good children\" and then proceeded to open the magic sack. \"Miss\nKitty McGinnis!\" he called, in deep, gruff tones. Kitty took the box\nhe offered with shy embarrassment, slowly drew back the lid and gave a\ncry of amazement and delight. \"A doll, O the loveliest doll that ever\nwas!\" she cried. Then turning to her brother, she whispered as softly\nas excitement would permit, \"O Harvey, I'm afeard ye paid too much!\"\n\n\"Aw, go on!\" said Harvey, his face more like a full moon than ever.\n\"Don't ye know that Santy kin do whatever he wants to?\"\n\nThe other dolls were received with raptures, Josephine stroking the\ngolden curls of the Lady Matilda with wondering fingers, and the baby\ndancing round and round, waving the pink-robed Lady Clarabel above her\nhead.\n\n\"Mr. Harvey McGinnis!\" came the gruff tones of Santa Claus; and Harvey\nsmiled over to his mother as he drew out a pair of stout cloth gloves.\n\n\"Mrs. McGinnis!\" And that good lady smiled back, as she shook out a\ndainty white apron with a coarse embroidery ruffle.\n\n\"I reckon Santy wanted you to wear that of a Sunday afternoon,\" said\nHarvey, awkwardly.\n\n\"And I'll be proud to do it!\" said his mother.\n\nLittle sacks of candy were next produced and everyone settled down to\nenjoy it, thinking that the bottom of the big sack must be reached,\nwhen Santa called out in tones that trembled beneath the gruffness,\n\"Another package for Mr. Harvey McGinnis!\"\n\n\"Fer me--why--what--\" said Harvey, taking the heavy oblong bundle;\nthen, as the sparkling \"Club House\" skates met his view, his face lit\nup with a glory that Tom never forgot. The glory lasted but a moment,\nthen he turned a troubled face toward the bulky old saint.\n\n\"You never ought to a done it,\" he said. \"These must have cost a lot!\"\n\n\"Aw, go on,\" was the reply in a distinctly boyish tone, \"don't you\nknow that Santy can do whatever he wants to?\" and, with a prodigious\nbow, old Santa was gone.\n\nA few minutes later, a slender boy with a bundle under his arm, was\nskating swiftly down the shining river in the moonlight. As he rounded\nthe bend, a tall figure in a fur-trimmed coat came skimming slowly\ntoward him, and a voice called out in Ralph Evans' condescending\ntones, \"Well, how are the 'Jolly Ramblers' doing tonight?\"\n\nBut the answer, this time, was clear and glad and triumphant. \"The\nbest in the world,\" said Tom, \"and isn't this the glorious night for\nskating?\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE WORKER IN SANDALWOOD[*]\n\nBy Marjorie L. C. Pickthall\n\n\nThe good cure of Terminaison says that this tale of Hyacinthe's is all\na dream. But then Madame points triumphantly to the little cabinet of\nsandalwood in the corner of her room. It had stood there for many\nyears now, and the dust has gathered in the fine lines of the little\nbirds' feathers, and softened the petals of the lilies carved at the\ncorners. And the wood has taken on a golden gleam like the memory of a\nsunset.\n\n\"What of that, my friend?\" says Madame, pointing to the cabinet. And\nthe old cure bows his head.\n\n\"It may be so. God is very good,\" he says gently. But he is never\nquite sure what he may believe.\n\nOn that winter day long ago, Hyacinthe was quite sure of one thing and\nthat was that the workshop was very cold. There was no fire in it, and\nonly one little lamp when the early dark drew on. The tools were so\ncold they scorched his fingers, and feet were so cold he danced\nclumsily in the shavings to warm them. He was a great clumsy boy of\nfourteen, dark-faced, dull-eyed, and uncared for. He was clumsy\nbecause it is impossible to be graceful when you are growing very fast\nand have not enough to eat. He was dull-eyed because all eyes met his\nunlovingly. He was uncared for because no one knew the beauty of his\nsoul. But his heavy young hands could carve things like birds and\nflowers perfectly. On this winter evening he was just wondering if he\nmight lay aside the tools, and creep home to the cold loft where he\nslept, when he heard Pierre L'Oreillard's voice shouting outside.\n\n\"Be quick, be quick, and open the door, thou _imbecile_. It is I, thy\nmaster.\"\n\n\"_Oui, mon maitre_,\" said Hyacinthe, and he shambled to the door and\nopened it.\n\n\"Slow worm!\" cried Pierre, and he cuffed Hyacinthe as he passed in.\nHyacinthe rubbed his head and said nothing. He was used to blows. He\nwondered why his master was in the workshop at that time of day\ninstead of drinking brandy at the Cinq Chateaux.\n\nPierre L'Oreillard had a small heavy bundle under his arm, wrapped in\nsacking, and then in burlap, and then in fine soft cloths. He laid it\non a pile of shavings, and unfolded it carefully; and a dim sweetness\nfilled the dark shed and hung heavily in the thin winter sunbeams.\n\n\"It is a piece of wood,\" said Hyacinthe in slow surprise. He knew that\nsuch wood had never been seen in Terminaison.\n\nPierre L'Oreillard rubbed the wood respectfully with his knobby\nfingers.\n\n\"It is sandalwood,\" he explained to Hyacinthe, pride of knowledge\nmaking him quite amiable, \"a most precious wood that grows in warm\ncountries, thou great goblin. Smell it, idiot. It is sweeter than\ncedar. It is to make a cabinet for the old Madame at the big house.\"\n\n\"_Oui, mon maitre_,\" said the dull Hyacinthe.\n\n\"Thy great hands shall shape and smooth the wood, _nigaud_, and I\nwill render it beautiful,\" said Pierre, puffing out his chest.\n\n\"Yes, Master,\" answered Hyacinthe humbly, \"and when is it to be ready\nfor Madame?\"\n\n\"Madame will want it perhaps next week, for that is Christmas. It is\nto be finished and ready on the holy festival, great sluggard. Hearest\nthou?\" and he cuffed Hyacinthe's ears again furiously.\n\nHyacinthe knew that the making of the cabinet would fall to him, as\nmost of the other work did. When Pierre L'Oreillard was gone he\ntouched the strange sweet wood and at last laid his cheek against it,\nwhile the fragrance caught his breath. \"How it is beautiful!\" said\nHyacinthe, and for a moment his eyes glowed, and he was happy. Then\nthe light passed and with bent head he shuffled back to his bench\nthrough a foam of white shavings curling almost to his knees.\n\n\"Madame will want the cabinet for Christmas,\" repeated Hyacinthe to\nhimself, and fell to work harder than ever, though it was so cold in\nthe shed that his breath hung in the air like a little silvery cloud.\nThere was a tiny window on his right, through which, when it was clear\nof frost, one looked on Terminaison; and that was cheerful, and made\nhim whistle. But to the left, through the chink of the ill-fitting\ndoor, there was nothing to be seen but the forest, and the road dying\nunder the snow.\n\nBrandy was good at the Cinq Chateaux and Pierre L'Oreillard gave\nHyacinthe plenty of directions, but no further help with the cabinet.\n\n\"That is to be finished for Madame at the festival, sluggard,\" said he\nevery day, cuffing Hyacinthe about the head, \"finished, and with a\nprettiness about the corners, hearest thou, _ourson_?\"\n\n\"Yes, Monsieur,\" said Hyacinthe in his slow way; \"I will try to finish\nit. But if I hurry I shall spoil it.\"\n\nPierre's little eyes flickered. \"See that it is done, and done\nproperly. I suffer from a delicacy of the constitution and a little\nfeebleness of the legs these days, so that I cannot handle the tools\nproperly. I must leave this work to thee, _gacheur_. And stand up and\ntouch a hand to thy cap when I speak to thee, slow-worm.\"\n\n\"Yes, monsieur,\" said Hyacinthe wearily.\n\nIt is hard to do all the work and to be beaten into the bargain. And\nfourteen is not very old. Hyacinthe worked on at the cabinet with his\nslow and exquisite skill. But on Christmas eve he was still at work,\nand the cabinet unfinished.\n\n\"The master will beat me,\" thought Hyacinthe, and he trembled a\nlittle, for Pierre's beatings were cruel. \"But if I hurry, I shall\nspoil the wood, and it is too beautiful to be spoiled.\"\n\nBut he trembled again when Pierre came into the workshop, and he stood\nup and touched his cap.\n\n\"Is the cabinet finished, _imbecile_?\" asked Pierre. And Hyacinthe\nanswered in a low voice, \"No, it is not finished yet, monsieur.\"\n\n\"Then work on it all night, and show it to me completed in the\nmorning, or thy bones shall mourn thine idleness,\" said Pierre, with a\nwicked look in his little eyes. And he shut Hyacinthe into the shed\nwith a smoky lamp, his tools, and the sandalwood cabinet.\n\nIt was nothing unusual. He had been often left before to finish a\npiece of work overnight while Pierre went off to his brandies. But\nthis was Christmas eve, and he was very tired. Even the scent of the\nsandalwood could not make him fancy he was warm. The world seemed to\nbe a black place, full of suffering and despair.\n\n\"In all the world, I have no friend,\" said Hyacinthe, staring at the\nflame of the lamp. \"In all the world, there is no one to care whether\nI live or die. In all the world, no place, no heart, no love. O kind\nGod, is there a place, a love for me in another world?\"\n\nI hope you feel very sorry for Hyacinthe, lonely, and cold, and shut\nup in the workshop on the eve of Christmas. He was but an overgrown,\nunhappy child. And I think with old Madame that for unhappy children,\nat this season, no help seems too divine for faith.\n\n\"There is no one to care for me,\" said Hyacinthe. And he even looked\nat the chisel in his hand, thinking that by a touch of that he might\nlose it all, and be at peace, somewhere, not far from God. Only it was\nforbidden. Then came the tears, and great sobs that shook him, so that\nhe scarcely heard the gentle rattling of the latch.\n\nHe stumbled to the door, opening it on the still woods and the frosty\nstars. And a lad who stood outside in the snow said, \"I see you are\nworking late, comrade. May I come in?\"\n\nHyacinthe brushed his ragged sleeve across his eyes and nodded \"Yes.\"\nThose little villages strung along the great river see strange\nwayfarers at times. And Hyacinthe said to himself that surely here was\nsuch a one. Blinking into the stranger's eyes, he lost for a flash the\nfirst impression of youth, and received one of incredible age or\nsadness. But the wanderer's eyes were only quiet, very quiet, like\nthe little pools in the wood where the wild does went to drink. As he\nturned within the door, smiling at Hyacinthe and shaking some snow\nfrom his cap, he did not seem to be more than sixteen or so.\n\n\"It is very cold outside,\" he said. \"There is a big oak tree on the\nedge of the fields that had split in the frost and frightened all the\nlittle squirrels asleep there. Next year it will make an even better\nhome for them. And see what I found close by!\" He opened his fingers\nand showed Hyacinthe a little sparrow lying unruffled in the palm.\n\n\"_Pauvrette!_\" said the dull Hyacinthe. \"_Pauvrette!_ Is it then\ndead?\" He touched it with a gentle forefinger.\n\n\"No,\" answered the strange boy, \"it is not dead. We will put it here\namong the shavings, not far from the lamp, and it will be well by the\nmorning.\"\n\nHe smiled at Hyacinthe again, and the shambling lad felt dimly as if\nthe scent of the sandalwood were sweeter, and the lamp-flame clearer.\nBut the stranger's eyes were only quiet, quiet.\n\n\"Have you come far?\" asked Hyacinthe. \"It is a bad season for\ntraveling, and the wolves are out.\"\n\n\"A long way,\" said the other. \"A long, long way. I heard a child\ncry--\"\n\n\"There is no child here,\" put in Hyacinthe. \"Monsieur L'Oreillard says\nchildren cost too much money. But if you have come far, you must need\nfood and fire, and I have neither. At the Cinq Chateaux you will find\nboth.\"\n\nThe stranger looked at him again with those quiet eyes, and Hyacinthe\nfancied that his face was familiar. \"I will stay here,\" he said; \"you\nare late at work, and you are unhappy.\"\n\n\"Why as to that,\" answered Hyacinthe, rubbing his cheeks and ashamed\nof his tears, \"most of are sad at one time or another, the good God\nknows. Stay here and welcome if it pleases you; and you may take a\nshare of my bed, though it is no more than a pile of balsam boughs and\nan old blanket in the loft. But I must work at this cabinet, for the\ndrawers must be finished and the handles put on and the corners\ncarved, all by the holy morning; or my wages will be paid with a\nstick.\"\n\n\"You have a hard master,\" put in the other, \"if he would pay you with\nblows upon the feast of Noel.\"\n\n\"He is hard enough,\" said Hyacinthe, \"but once he gave me a dinner of\nsausages and white wine; and once, in the summer, melons. If my eyes\nwill stay open, I will finish this by morning. Stay with me an hour or\nso, comrade, and talk to me of your travels, so that the time may pass\nmore quickly.\"\n\nAnd while Hyacinthe worked, he told,--of sunshine and dust, of the\nshadow of vine-leaves on the flat white walls of a house; of rosy\ndoves on the roof; of the flowers that come out in the spring,\nanemones crimson and blue, and white cyclamen in the shadow of the\nrocks; of the olive, the myrtle, and the almond; until Hyacinthe's\nfingers ceased working, and his sleepy eyes blinked wonderingly.\n\n\"See what you have done, comrade,\" he said at last; \"you have told me\nof such pretty things that I have done but little work for an hour.\nAnd now the cabinet will never be finished, and I shall be beaten.\"\n\n\"Let me help you,\" smiled the other. \"I also was bred a carpenter.\"\n\nAt first Hyacinthe would not, fearing to trust the sweet wood out of\nhis own hands. But at length he allowed the stranger to fit in one of\nthe drawers. And so deftly was it done that Hyacinthe pounded his\nfists on the bench in admiration. \"You have a pretty knack,\" he cried.\n\"It seemed as if you did but hold the drawer in your hands a moment,\nand hey! it jumped into its place.\"\n\n\"Let me fit in the other little drawers while you rest awhile,\" said\nthe stranger. So Hyacinthe curled up among the shavings, and the other\nboy fell to work upon the little cabinet of sandalwood.\n\nHyacinthe was very tired. He lay still among the shavings, and thought\nof all the boy had told him, of the hillside flowers, the laughing\nleaves, the golden bloom of the anise, and the golden sun upon the\nroads until he was warm. And all the time the boy with the quiet eyes\nwas at work upon the cabinet, smoothing, fitting, polishing.\n\n\"You do better work than I,\" said Hyacinthe once, and the stranger\nanswered, \"I was lovingly taught.\" And again Hyacinthe said, \"It is\ngrowing towards morning. In a little while I will get up and help\nyou.\"\n\n\"Lie still and rest,\" said the other boy. And Hyacinthe lay still. His\nthoughts began to slide into dreams, and he woke with a little start,\nfor there seemed to be music in the shed; though he could not tell\nwhether it came from the strange boy's lips, or from the shappy tools\nas he used them, or from the stars.\n\n\"The stars are much paler,\" thought Hyacinthe. \"Soon it will be\nmorning, and the corners are not carved yet. I must get up and help\nthis kind one in a little moment. Only the music and the sweetness\nseem to fold me close, so that I may not move.\"\n\nThen behind the forest there shone a pale glow of dawn, and in\nTerminaison the church bells began to ring. \"Day will soon be here,\"\nthought Hyacinthe, \"and with day will come Monsieur L'Oreillard and\nhis stick. I must get up and help for even yet the corners are not\ncarved.\"\n\nBut the stranger looked at him, smiling as though he loved him, and\nlaid his brown finger lightly on the four empty corners of the\ncabinet. And Hyacinthe saw the squares of reddish wood ripple and\nheave and break, as little clouds when the wind goes through the sky.\nAnd out of them thrust forth the little birds, and after them the\nlilies, for a moment living; but even as Hyacinthe looked, settling\nback into the sweet reddish-brown wood. Then the stranger smiled\nagain, laid all the tools in order, and, opening the door, went away\ninto the woods.\n\nHyacinthe crept slowly to the door. The winter sun, half risen, filled\nall the frosty air with splendid gold. Far down the road a figure\nseemed to move amid the glory, but the splendor was such that\nHyacinthe was blinded. His breath came sharply as the glow beat on the\nwretched shed, on the old shavings, on the cabinet with the little\nbirds and the lilies carved at the corners.\n\nHe was too pure of heart to feel afraid. But \"Blessed be the Lord,\"\nwhispered Hyacinthe, clasping his slow hands, \"for He hath visited and\nredeemed His people. But who will believe?\"\n\nThen the sun of Christ's day rose gloriously, and the little sparrow\ncame from his nest among the shavings and shook his wings to the\nlight.\n\n[*] Reprinted by permission of the publishers of \"Everyland.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE SHEPHERD WHO DIDN'T GO[*]\n\nBy Jay T. Stocking\n\n\nYou have all heard of the shepherds who went to Bethlehem, but I do\nnot believe any of you have heard of the shepherd who didn't go. The\nBible does not say anything about him, but his story has come to me,\nand I am going to tell it to you.\n\nThe city of Bethlehem stood on a hill. Below the town, with its steep\nnarrow streets and white walls, were gray olive orchards. Below the\norchards were gardens bright with flowers. Below the gardens lay green\nmeadows, and beyond these pasture-lands that stretched away to the\nwilderness plains where little patches of grass grew among the bushes\nand between the great rocks. There were caves among these rocks where\nwolves used to skulk and sometimes robbers hid. So the shepherds who\nguarded their flocks in these wild pastures dared not leave them\nalone.\n\nOne clear beautiful night, many centuries ago, four shepherds were\nwatching their flocks on these pastures. Samuel, Ezra, Joel, and\nDahvid were their names. Samuel, Ezra, and Joel were strong men, no\nlonger young, with shaggy eyebrows and brown beards; Ezra's was short,\nJoel's long, and Samuel's streaked with gray. They owned the flocks\nwhich they tended. Dahvid was a boy with ruddy cheeks, bright eyes,\nand strong lithe limbs. He cared for the flocks of old Abraham.\nAbraham was old and rich, and did not work any more, but hired\nDahvid, whose family was very poor, to care for his sheep.\n\nThe flocks of the four shepherds were lying quiet on the plain far\nbelow the city, and near by Samuel, Ezra, Joel, and Dahvid lay wrapped\nin their shepherds' cloaks.\n\n\"Samuel,\" said Dahvid, rising upon his elbow.\n\n\"What is it, Dahvid?\" asked the other in a deep voice.\n\n\"Are you not glad that you tend sheep in Bethlehem instead of some\ndistant place?\"\n\n\"Why, Dahvid?\" asked Samuel sleepily.\n\n\"Because it is in Bethlehem that the King we have been looking for so\nlong is to be born. I have been reading it in the prophets only\ntoday.\"\n\n\"Have you only just heard of that?\" asked Ezra sourly.\n\n\"No,\" replied the boy hotly. \"I have heard my mother tell of it ever\nsince I can remember, and I have read it over and over again. Samuel!\"\n\n\"Yes, Dahvid?\"\n\n\"Do you think we shall ever see the promised King?\"\n\n\"I do not know, my boy,\" the older man answered sadly. \"We have waited\nlong, and there seems little hope for Israel now. But he will come\nsome day, he will come some day. Why do you ask, Dahvid?\"\n\n\"I cannot tell. It is often in my mind. Something makes me think of it\ntonight. Perhaps it is because I read of him today. Samuel, I would\nwalk to the end of the earth to see the Christ-child.\"\n\n\"Well, you need not start now,\" grumbled Ezra, and Joel added roughly,\n\"Go to sleep, boy, the hour is late.\"\n\nIt was much later before Dahvid fell asleep, for his head was full of\ndreams, and the stories of wonderful days to come that his mother had\ntold him. But at length he joined the rest in healthy slumber.\n\nSuddenly it seemed to each of them that something had passed over him,\nand touched him lightly on the cheek. The older men raised themselves\non their elbows, but Dahvid sprang to his feet. At first they saw only\na great light, which nearly blinded them, then they discerned a\nshining form in the sky, and heard a voice saying: \"Be not afraid; for\nbehold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all\nthe people; for there is born to you this day in the city of David a\nSaviour, who is Christ the Lord. And this is the sign unto you: Ye\nshall find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.\"\n\nAnd then all the sky was full of light, and the air was full of\nheavenly voices, singing, \"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth\npeace, good will toward men.\"\n\nWhile the shepherds listened, half joyful, half afraid, the light\nfaded and the voices floated away--\"Good will to men--to men--to men,\"\nand all was still as before. For a moment the shepherds looked at each\nother in silent awe and wonder. Then Ezra spoke in a voice dry with\nfear. \"What was it?\"\n\nDahvid stood speechless, and Samuel answered reverently, \"Angels.\"\n\n\"Brothers,\" he continued, \"a wonderful thing has happened to us. It\nhas been a long, long day since angels have spoken to men.\"\n\nThen he girded his shepherd's cloak about him and seized his staff.\n\"Come, Ezra, Joel, Dahvid, let us be going.\"\n\n\"Going--where?\" asked Ezra and Joel.\n\n\"Why, to Bethlehem to see the Child. Did not the angel tell us the\nsign? Let us go at once to find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes\nand lying in a manger.\"\n\n\"There be many mangers in Bethlehem,\" objected Ezra.\n\n\"I know not how we shall find him,\" said Joel. \"It is a vain search, I\nfear,\" and he drew his cloak about him and reached for his staff, \"but\nI will go with you if you say.\"\n\nSo they started, Samuel, Ezra, and Joel--but Dahvid stood still.\n\n\"Come, Dahvid, make haste!\" called Samuel.\n\nBut the boy did not move.\n\n\"I cannot go,\" he said.\n\n\"Cannot go!\" cried Samuel in amazement; and Ezra added, \"Who said but\na little while ago that he would go to the end of the earth to see the\nKing?\"\n\n\"And so I would,\" cried Dahvid; \"but the sheep--we cannot leave the\nsheep alone.\"\n\n\"The sheep will be safe enough,\" said Samuel. \"The dogs will keep them\ntogether. There are no wolves tonight. Come, Dahvid.\"\n\nBut the boy was firm. \"There is my master; he'll be angry if I leave\nhis flocks alone.\"\n\n\"Old Abraham will never know,\" said Joel.\n\n\"Abraham is a hard master,\" said Dahvid. \"Many a time I have felt his\nheavy staff on my back. But it is not that which keeps me. I have\ngiven him my word that, come day, come night, come life, come death, I\nwill not fail to keep the flocks. Go on without me; I must keep my\nword. Go on.\"\n\nSo they went on, impatient and eager for this wondrous quest, Ezra\nand Joel muttering now and then at the obstinacy of the boy, but\nSamuel full of glowing admiration. Dahvid watched them as they moved\nup the hill. That dream of finding the Christ-child--how could he give\nit up? Once he started forward: \"I will go!\" But something held him\nback, and he threw himself on the ground and kept back tears of bitter\ndisappointment. After a time he grew calmer, and found a certain\ncomfort in thinking of the helplessness of his flock.\n\nSuddenly the low growling of his dog brought him to his feet. But he\nsaw nothing, heard nothing, and bade the dog be still. In a moment,\nwith a bark of alarm, the dog was up again and away. Dahvid sprang up,\ncertain now that danger was near. There was panic in the flock. Toward\nthe wilderness he could see lean, gray forms, moving stealthily and\nswiftly among the sheep. Wolves! Springing upon a rock, and waving his\ncloak in circles about his head, he uttered the familiar call which\ngathered the sheep about him, his own sheep nearest, and behind them\nthe flocks of Samuel, Ezra, and Joel. The wolves made off and Dahvid\nquickly looked over his flock to see if all were there--for the\nEastern shepherd knows his sheep by name.\n\nOne by one he named them, with an increasing feeling of relief. They\nwere all there. No! One was missing--Ke-barbara, the pet of the flock.\nKe-barbara means striped, and the little sheep was so called because\nof the dark marking of her fleece. After waving his staff over the\nhuddled beasts, and uttering a few times the soothing cry, \"Hoo-o-o,\nta-a-a! hoo-o-o, ta-a-a!\" he rushed off in the direction which the\nwolves had taken. At the top of the steep bank, at the edge of the\npasture, he stopped and called, \"Ke-barbara! Ke-barbara!\" and for\nanswer heard an anguished bleat from the rocks below.\n\nIt was a steep and slippery way, but Dahvid plunged down with no\nthought of anything but the sheep. Loose stones gave way and he lost\nhis footing. At the bottom he picked himself up unhurt, and there\nbeside him were two wolves quarreling over the wounded sheep. One of\nthem slunk away at sight of the boy, but the other had a taste of\nblood and sprang at Dahvid, missing his throat but sinking his teeth\ninto his leg. Then Dahvid, as the beast turned to spring again, struck\nhim a heavy blow on the head with his staff and killed him. His own\nwounds were bleeding and painful, but he turned at once with caressing\nwords to the sheep.\n\n\"Ke-barbara, they have hurt you, little sheep! But they have not\nkilled you! I reached you just in time. You cannot walk; can you? And\nI am afraid I cannot carry you. But I can help. There, put your head\non my arm.\" He groaned with pain. \"No, the other one.\" So he talked to\nher, as to a child, as the wounded boy and the wounded sheep slowly\nmade their way up the steep hillside and over the rough rocks. It was\nnot a long way, and, half an hour before, the sturdy shepherd lad\nwould have bounded over it quickly enough. But now the wounded leg was\nslow, the wounded arm was weak, and the wounded lamb seemed very\nheavy. It was a weary journey, with many stops. When at last they\nreached the flock, still huddled trembling together, Dahvid had only\nstrength to give one reassuring \"Hoo-o-o, ta-a-a,\" then fell\nexhausted.\n\nHow long he lay there he did not know, but the dawn was growing\nbright when three men appeared from the direction of the town. It was\nnot the shepherds, but old Abraham and two of his servants. As the old\nman caught sight of his flock, but he saw no shepherd, he raged with\nanger. \"Dahvid!\" he shouted fiercely. \"Dahvid!\" There was no answer.\n\n\"The young vagabond! He has left the sheep. Of great worth are his\npromises! He would keep my flock. 'Come life--come death!' Dahvid! Let\nme once find him and I will give him something he will remember longer\nthan he does his vows.\"\n\nAs he drew near the flock he discovered the boy lying on the ground.\n\"Ah, asleep is he? and the sun this high! Come, get up!\" he shouted\nfiercely, and lifted his staff to strike. But, as he did so he caught\nsight of the white face and the bleeding arm, and noticed the wounded\nsheep. Old Abraham dropped his angry arm, and there was a touch of\ntenderness that was strange to him, as he continued: \"Ah, Dahvid, boy!\nYou did not forget your promises; did you, Dahvid? And I would have\nstruck you! Forgive me, my lad.\" Then, turning to his servants, he\ngave them command: \"Take him to the inn and bid them care for him. I,\nmyself, will keep the flock today.\"\n\nThe servants bowed low, \"The inn is full, my lord.\"\n\nOld Abraham commanded again positively, \"Take him to the inn, I say.\"\n\n\"But the inn is full, my lord,\" replied the older servant, trembling.\n\nThen the other servant spoke, \"There is perhaps room in the stable, my\nlord.\"\n\n\"Then bear him thither, and bid them give him the best of care. Go at\nonce.\"\n\nSo the servants bore Dahvid away, still unconscious from his wounds\nand made him comfortable on a bed of straw in the stable of the inn.\n\nIt was some hours before he came to himself. When at last he opened\nhis eyes, and his ears began to catch once more the sounds about him,\nthe first thing he heard was a faint cry.\n\n\"What is that?\" he asked eagerly of Samuel, who was watching beside\nhim.\n\n\"That,\" said the old shepherd, in tones of mingled joy and reverence,\n\"is the Child the angels told us about, the Child we came to see. We\nfound him here in the stable, in a manger.\"\n\n\"And I am not to see him?\"\n\n\"Yes, you are,\" said Samuel, and a grave-faced man brought the Child\nand laid Him in Dahvid's arms, the Child for whose coming the people\nhad been longing for a thousand years.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe color at length came back to Dahvid's white cheeks and strength\nand health to his limbs and he went back again to the plain. Old\nAbraham embraced him, \"Forgive me, my son. I have been a hard master.\nThou hast been very faithful, and for thy reward I make thee lord over\nall my flocks and half of them shall be thine own.\"\n\nSo Dahvid became a man of flocks, and all his days he was known among\nthe other shepherds as the one who had held the Christ-child in his\narms. And there was none among them who was thought so brave, and\ngentle, and wise as the _Shepherd Who Didn't Go_.\n\n[*] Reprinted by permission from \"The City that Never Was Reached,\" by\nJay T. Stocking; published by the Pilgrim Press.\n\n\n\n\nPAULINA'S CHRISTMAS[*]\n\nA Story of Russian Life. Adapted from Anna Robinson's\n\n_Little Paulina_\n\n\nOne day, in Russia, there was a heavy snowstorm. The snow was deep on\nthe ground; and in the forest the branches of the trees bent under its\nweight.\n\nIn this forest a little girl was struggling along. There was no path\nfor her to follow, for the snow covered all the paths. The little\ngirl's name was Paulina. She was dressed in a long fur coat, and she\nwore a cap and mittens and gaiters of fur, so that she looked more\nlike a little furry animal than a little girl. She kept tramping\nalong, not a bit afraid, when suddenly she heard a call for help.\n\n\"Help! Help!\" the call came.\n\n\"Coming, coming!\" she called back. She went in the direction of the\nvoice and soon she saw a man making his way toward her. His dress was\nthat of a peasant.\n\n\"Will you please direct me out of this forest, little one?\" he asked.\n\"You probably know the paths about.\"\n\n\"No, I am a stranger here,\" Paulina answered. \"I live in Kief--that\nis, I did live there; but I am on my way to my father.\"\n\n\"Where is your father?\" asked the man.\n\n\"He is in Siberia. They banished him.\"\n\n\"But, little one,\" said the stranger, \"that is a terrible place for a\nchild to go to. That frozen country, where wicked people are sent!\"\n\n\"O, yes,--but my father is there, you know,\" said Paulina.\n\n\"Who is your father?\" the man asked.\n\nThe little girl was about to tell him, when she noticed a look of\ninterest on the stranger's face, so she said,\n\n\"Did you say that you had lost your way in the forest? Do you live far\nfrom here?\"\n\n\"Yes, very far. I am lost, and am nearly perishing from hunger and\ncold. How far is it to the next village?\"\n\n\"They told me it was some miles on,\" said the child. \"But I will take\nyou back to the woodsman's cottage where I spent the night. The woman\nis a kind-hearted person, and I am sure she will give you shelter.\"\n\n\"That is kind of you, little one,\" said the stranger, \"but you will be\nhindering your own journey if you do that.\"\n\n\"I know that my father would want me to show a kindness, even though\nit did put me back some,\" Paulina said.\n\n\"You must have a good father, to give you such training. Why did the\nEmperor send him into exile?\" the stranger asked her.\n\n\"O, my father had enemies who lied to the Emperor--and there was no\nchance given to my father to explain. So the Emperor sent him away to\nSiberia,--and I am trying to find my way there to him.\"\n\nWhile they walked through the forest, the stranger told Paulina about\nhis own little daughter who was expecting him to spend Christmas with\nher. At last they reached the woodsman's hut. The woman greeted them\nkindly, and while Paulina went into another room to help her prepare\nthe evening meal, the stranger was left warming himself by the fire,\nand rocking the cradle.\n\nOnce Paulina thought she heard voices, as if the stranger were talking\nto someone; but when she went back, she found him alone, still warming\nhis hands and rocking the cradle with his foot.\n\nThat night the stranger slept on the floor in front of the fire--there\nwas no other place for him; but he was glad to be safe from the storm\noutside.\n\nEarly in the morning, the two started out through the forest again.\nThey must hurry, if they were to reach the next village before\ndarkness fell. The storm had passed over, and the day was cold and\nclear. A beautiful winter's day. The little girl and the stranger\nreached the village on the other side of the forest early in the\nafternoon, and there before them they saw a beautiful sleigh drawn by\nfour horses. There were four servants standing near.\n\n\"What a lovely sleigh!\" exclaimed Paulina.\n\n\"Yes, I wonder where they are going. I will ask them,\" the stranger\nsaid. He went nearer the men and spoke to them.\n\n\"We are driving for our master to Igorhof,\" they said.\n\n\"Why, that is where my daughter is. If I might only ride with you, I\ncould spend Christmas with her. Tomorrow is Christmas day, you know.\nAnd, little one, you could spend Christmas with us, too.\"\n\n\"O, no,\" said Paulina. \"I could not take the time. I must hurry on to\nmy father. But it would be lovely if we could only ride in this\nbeautiful sleigh.\"\n\n\"You could spend the night with us, and then we could set you on your\nway, because you have been so kind to me,\" the man told her.\n\nThe servants were willing to let them ride in the beautiful sleigh,\nand soon they were speeding over the snow toward the great city. Once,\nthe stranger took a scarf from a pocket on the side of the sleigh and\nthrew it about his neck. Paulina frowned, and promptly placed it back\nin the pocket.\n\n\"It isn't right for you to touch anything in the sleigh. It belongs to\nsomeone else. I am beginning to fear that you may not be an honest\nman,\" she said gravely.\n\nThe stranger laughed at her, but he did not take the scarf again. They\nsped on over the snow until, as darkness fell, they reached the city.\nSoon they entered a large courtyard, and the stranger took Paulina's\nhand and led her into a narrow passageway, and up a small winding\nstairway.\n\n\"Where are you taking me?\" asked Paulina. \"I feel almost sure now,\nthat you are not an honest man. I think that you may even be a thief!\"\n\nThe man laughed again.\n\n\"No, I am an honest man. You will believe me when you see my little\ndaughter. I trusted you in the forest. Now you trust me.\"\n\nHe led her into a large room, and they sat down upon a sofa.\n\n\"We will wait here until my daughter comes,\" he said.\n\nSoon the door opened, and a beautiful little girl, about as large as\nPaulina, came toward them. She looked puzzled when she saw the\nrough-looking man with the little girl. She went close to the stranger\nand looked into his face.\n\n\"It _is_ my father!\" she cried, and threw her arms around his neck.\n\n\"But why are you dressed like a peasant? Has there been an accident?\nAnd who is this little stranger?\"\n\nThe man took her on his lap and told her how his sleigh had been\noverturned in the storm, and how he had found his way to a peasant's\nhut, where they had given him dry clothes to put on, and how he had\nstarted out alone to find his way through the forest; and how he was\nnearly perishing with cold and hunger when this little girl had\nrescued him, and how, if it had not been for her, he would have died\nin the snow in the forest. He told her how little Paulina was on her\nway to Siberia to find her father, and how they went to the woodsman's\nhut where a servant had found him, and how he had planned for the\nsleigh to meet them on the other side of the forest.\n\n\"O,\" Paulina interrupted him, \"then there was somebody talking with\nyou when we were preparing the evening meal?\"\n\n\"Yes, and everything came out just as I had planned. And do you know,\nlittle daughter, this Paulina would not let me put my own scarf around\nmy neck. She thought that I was a thief. She is an honest little girl.\nBut she will not tell me her name. She does not trust me.\"\n\n\"But why should I trust you, when you will not tell me who you are, or\nanything about yourself?\" Paulina asked.\n\n\"Do trust my father, Paulina. I'm sure he can help you. He will tell\nyou who he is soon, I know,\" the beautiful little girl said.\n\n\"Yes, little one,\" the stranger said. \"I know someone who could speak\nto the Emperor about your father, and perhaps he could be pardoned.\nPlease tell me your name; and then before you go away I will answer\nany questions about myself you may ask me.\"\n\n\"Do tell my father, Paulina,\" the little girl urged.\n\nPaulina threw her arms about the stranger's knees.\n\n\"O, if you could only get the Emperor to pardon him.--But I do not ask\nfor a _pardon_--he has done nothing to be pardoned for. All that I ask\nis that he may have justice done him. My father is Vladimir Betzkoi.\"\n\nThe stranger frowned, and then he whispered,\n\n\"There must be some mistake. He must be a good man to have such an\nhonest little daughter.\" Then he said to Paulina,\n\n\"Do you believe now that I am an honest man, since you have seen my\ndaughter?\"\n\n\"O, yes, indeed I do. You couldn't help being good and honest. She is\nso beautiful. I think her face is like what a queen's should be,\"\nPaulina answered eagerly.\n\nThe stranger and his little daughter smiled, and the man said,\n\n\"Well, I believe that your father is an honest man since I have seen\nyou. And I can tell you now, I _know_ he will be pardoned.\"\n\n\"Tell her, father, tell the little Paulina who you are,\" his daughter\nwhispered.\n\n\"Until your father returns to you, little one, you must stay here and\nI will be a father to you--as I am father to all the people of Russia,\nfor _I am the Emperor!_\"\n\nJust then the bells began ringing, and voices outside began\nsinging,--for it was the beginning of Christmas morning. And Paulina\nsaid,\n\n\"This is the happiest Christmas morning I have ever known.\"\n\n[*] By permission--Copyright, 1912, by Sturgis & Walton Company.\n\n\n\n\nUNTO US A CHILD IS BORN\n\nAs Told by Phebe A. Curtiss at a \"White Gift\" Service\n\n\nIt was in the little town of Bethlehem, with its white walls and\nnarrow streets, that a wonderful thing happened many, many years ago.\nThe whole aspect of the place had been completely transformed, and\ninstead of the quiet which usually existed there, confusion reigned.\nThe little town was crowded full of people. All day long men, women\nand children had been pouring in companies into it until every\navailable place was full. It had something to do with the payment of\ntaxes, and the people had come from far and near in response to the\ncall of those in authority.\n\nMany of them were staying with relatives and friends, and every door\nhad been opened to receive those who came. There were not many places\nwhere the public could go to stay in those days, and the ones that\nthere were had been already filled.\n\nJust as the shadows were closing down around the hill, an interesting\nlittle group found its way up the winding path through the orchards,\ntouched as they were by the sunset coloring, and into the gate of the\ncity. The man, seemingly about fifty years of age, walked with slow\nand measured tread. He had a black beard, lightly sprinkled with gray,\nand he carried in his hand a staff, which served him in walking and\nalso in persuading the donkey he was leading to move a little more\nrapidly.\n\nIt was plain to see that the errand he had come on was an important\none, both from the care with which he was dressed and from the anxious\nlook which now and then spread over his face.\n\nUpon the donkey's back sat a woman, and your attention would have been\ndirected to her at once if you could have been there. She was\nmarvelously beautiful. She was very young--just at that interesting\nperiod between girlhood and womanhood, when the charm is so great.\n\nHer eyes were large and blue and they were a prominent feature in the\nface that was absolutely perfect in contour and coloring.\n\nShe wore an outer robe of a dull woolen stuff which covered the blue\ngarment worn underneath--the garment which indicated that she was a\nvirgin. Over her head and around her neck she wore the customary white\nveil or \"wimple.\"\n\nAs the donkey jogged along, stopping now and then to nibble at the\nbushes on either side, she sat calmly looking out upon the\nsurroundings. Once in a while she would draw aside her veil and her\nbeautiful eyes would lift themselves to heaven with a look of rapture\nand adoration in them, which was wonderful to see.\n\nAs they drew nearer to the town the look of anxiety upon the face of\nthe man deepened, for he began to realize more and more the crowded\ncondition of the place they were approaching. The hurry and bustle and\nconfusion made themselves felt far beyond the bounds of the town\nitself.\n\nThey seemed to be strangers--at least they did not have relatives or\nfriends to whom they could turn; and the man started at once to make\nhis way to the inn or \"kahn,\" as it was called in those days.\n\nThis inn was a quadrangular building made of rough stones. It was one\nstory high, with a flat roof, and it had not a single window. All\naround it was a high wall, built of rocks; and the space between that\nwall and the building made a safe enclosure for the animals.\n\nThe thing about these inns that would surprise you or me today was the\nway in which the business connected with them was run. There was no\ncharge made for staying there, but safe lodging was freely given. Each\ncompany which came brought its own bedding, its own food and\neverything they needed to use in cooking. A resting place and safe\nprotection were all that were offered. The inn was in charge of one\ncaretaker. There were no other servants.\n\nAs the traveler, whose name was Joseph, drew near he found to his\ndismay that he could not even make his way through the crowd to the\ngate keeper, who was guarding the one entrance to the inn.\n\nHe decided to leave Mary, his wife, in the company of a family with\nwhom he had been talking while he made an effort to gain entrance.\n\nWhen at last he reached the man in charge, he found it was just as he\nhad feared. The inn was full--there was no room for them there.\n\nIn vain he urged; he told of his own line of ancestors; of the noble\nline from which his wife descended. The answer was always the same:\n\"There is no room.\"\n\nAt last he pleaded for Mary, his wife. He told the man in charge that\nshe was not strong, that she had come a long, long way and was very\ntired; and urged that some place be found for her. He feared the\nresults if she should be compelled to stay in the open all night.\n\nSo earnestly he pleaded his case that at last the man said, \"I have no\nroom and yet I cannot turn you away; come with me and I will find you\na place in the stable.\"\n\nJoseph then found Mary and they and the ones with whom she had been\ntarrying went together to the stable and there made themselves\ncomfortable for the night.\n\nThis was not at all the cross to them that it would seem to you today.\nIt was a very common thing indeed for people to stay in the stables\nwhen the inn was full. And then, too, you must remember that they were\ndescended from a long line of shepherds. They naturally loved the\nanimals and did not feel at all badly to sleep where they had been, or\neven in very close company with them.\n\nWe can imagine that it was with very thankful hearts they lay down to\nrest that night.\n\nThere was a company of men, asleep in the pasture lands at some little\ndistance from Bethlehem, on the slope of the hill. They were\nshepherds. They had cared for their sheep and after that all but one\nof them had lain down to sleep. It was their custom for all of the\nnumber to watch while the others slept. They were wrapped in their\ngreat, warm shepherd's cloaks, for the air was chilly at that season.\nAll at once a strange thing happened. It began to grow very light, and\nthe one who was watching could not understand. He spoke to the others\nand they sprang to their feet.\n\nBrighter and brighter shone the light until it was like the day, and\nyou can imagine that the shepherds were startled. They could not\nspeak, so great was their astonishment; but as they drew closer\ntogether they heard a voice coming out of the light. The voice said,\n\"Be not afraid. Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which\nshall be to all people. For unto you is born this day, in the city of\nDavid, a Saviour which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign\nunto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in\na manger.\"\n\nAnd then there were with this angel, who spoke, many other angels; and\nthey sang, praising God, saying, \"Glory to God in the highest, and on\nearth peace, good will toward men.\"\n\nThey sang it again and again until the heavens fairly rang with it.\n\nFor a while after the beautiful song had died away and the light had\nfailed, the shepherds stood with bowed heads. Then each one gathered\nhis cloak around him and took his staff in his hand and they started\ntogether to find the place and the Child about which they had heard.\n\nHastening into Bethlehem they came to the inn and found Joseph and\nMary, and the babe, lying in the manger, just as the angel said they\nwould. They worshipped the Child and returned to their duties,\npraising God and glorifying Him.\n\nAfter that Joseph and Mary went away to another place and took the\nchild Jesus with them, and many others came to worship Him. Among them\nwere three Wise Men who had come from separate places and all from a\ngreat distance.\n\nThey followed the star which was set in the heavens to guide them and\nthey too found the One they sought.\n\nAs they came into the place where He was, each one bowed in worship\nand they laid before Him the gifts they had brought--gold,\nfrankincense and myrrh.\n\nWhat a wonderful story it is, and how our hearts swell with love as we\nthink about it! It is fitting that tonight we should dwell upon it,\nfor we, too, have come to worship our King. It is His birthday and we\nhave come together to bring Him our gifts. We have brought \"white\ngifts\" because they are the expression of our pure, unselfish love.\n\nThe Wise Men brought gold, and we have brought our gifts of\n_substance_--money and food and clothing and things that will help to\nmake others comfortable and happy.\n\nThe Wise Men brought frankincense, and we bring gifts of _service_;\nfor each one of us desires to do some one thing all during the year\nthat will make for good and make us worthy followers of Him.\n\nThe Wise Men brought myrrh, and we bring devotion; for we bring the\ngift of _self_. If we have not already given ourselves to the Master,\nwe want to do so now; and if we have done so, we want to reconsecrate\nour lives to Him.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STAR[*]\n\nBy Florence M. Kingsley\n\n\nOnce upon a time in a country far away from here, there lived a little\ngirl named Ruth. Ruth's home was not at all like our houses, for she\nlived in a little tower on top of the great stone wall that surrounded\nthe town of Bethlehem. Ruth's father was the hotel-keeper--the Bible\nsays the \"inn keeper.\" This inn was not at all like our hotels,\neither. There was a great open yard, which was called the courtyard.\nAll about this yard were little rooms and each traveler who came to\nthe hotel rented one. The inn stood near the great stone wall of the\ncity, so that as Ruth stood, one night, looking out of the tower\nwindow, she looked directly into the courtyard. It was truly a strange\nsight that met her eyes. So many people were coming to the inn, for\nthe King had made a law that every man should come back to the city\nwhere his father used to live to be counted and to pay his taxes. Some\nof the people came on the backs of camels, with great rolls of bedding\nand their dishes for cooking upon the back of the beast. Some of them\ncame on little donkeys, and on their backs too were the bedding and\nthe dishes. Some of the people came walking--slowly; they were so\ntired. Many miles some of them had come. As Ruth looked down into the\ncourtyard, she saw the camels being led to their places by their\nmasters, she heard the snap of the whips, she saw the sparks shoot up\nfrom the fires that were kindled in the courtyard, where each person\nwas preparing his own supper; she heard the cries of the tired, hungry\nlittle children.\n\nPresently her mother, who was cooking supper, came over to the window\nand said, \"Ruthie, thou shalt hide in the house until all those people\nare gone. Dost thou understand?\"\n\n\"Yes, my mother,\" said the child, and she left the window to follow\nher mother back to the stove, limping painfully, for little Ruth was a\ncripple. Her mother stooped suddenly and caught the child in her arms.\n\n\"My poor little lamb. It was a mule's kick, just six years ago, that\nhurt your poor back and made you lame.\"\n\n\"Never mind, my mother. My back does not ache today, and lately when\nthe light of the strange new star has shone down upon my bed my back\nhas felt so much stronger and I have felt so happy, as though I could\nclimb upon the rays of the star and up, up into the sky and above the\nstars!\"\n\nHer mother shook her head sadly. \"Thou art not likely to climb much,\nnow or ever, but come, the supper is ready; let us go to find your\nfather. I wonder what keeps him.\"\n\nThey found the father standing at the gate of the courtyard, talking\nto a man and woman who had just arrived. The man was tall, with a long\nbeard, and he led by a rope a snow white mule, on which sat the\ndrooping figure of the woman. As Ruth and her mother came near, they\nheard the father say, \"But I tell thee that there is no more room in\nthe inn. Hast thou no friends where thou canst go to spend the night?\"\nThe man shook his head. \"No, none,\" he answered. \"I care not for\nmyself, but my poor wife.\" Little Ruth pulled at her mother's dress.\n\"Mother, the oxen sleep out under the stars these warm nights and the\nstraw in the caves is clean and warm; I have made a bed there for my\nlittle lamb.\"\n\nRuth's mother bowed before the tall man. \"Thou didst hear the child.\nIt is as she says--the straw is clean and warm.\" The tall man bowed\nhis head. \"We shall be very glad to stay,\" and he helped the\nsweet-faced woman down from the donkey's back and led her away to the\ncave stable, while the little Ruth and her mother hurried up the\nstairs that they might send a bowl of porridge to the sweet-faced\nwoman, and a sup of new milk, as well.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat night when little Ruth lay down in her bed, the rays of the\nbeautiful new star shone through the window more brightly than before.\nThey seemed to soothe the tired aching shoulders. She fell asleep and\ndreamed that the beautiful, bright star burst and out of it came\ncountless angels, who sang in the night:\n\n\"Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, good will to men.\" And\nthen it was morning and her mother was bending over her and saying,\n\"Awake, awake, little Ruth. Mother has something to tell thee.\" Then\nas the eyes opened slowly--\"The angels came in the night, little one,\nand left a Baby to lay beside your little white lamb in the manger.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat afternoon, Ruth went with her mother to the fountain. The mother\nturned aside to talk to the other women of the town about the strange\nthings heard and seen the night before, but Ruth went on and sat down\nby the edge of the fountain. The child, was not frightened, for\nstrangers came often to the well, but never had she seen men who\nlooked like the three who now came towards her. The first one, a tall\nman with a long white beard, came close to Ruth and said, \"Canst tell\nus, child, where is born he that is called the King of the Jews?\"\n\n\"I know of no king,\" she answered, \"but last night while the star was\nshining, the angels brought a baby to lie beside my white lamb in the\nmanger.\" The stranger bowed his head. \"That must be he. Wilt thou show\nus the way to Him, my child?\" So Ruth ran and her mother led the three\nmen to the cave and \"when they saw the Child, they rejoiced with\nexceeding great joy, and opening their gifts, they presented unto Him\ngold, and frankincense and myrrh,\" with wonderful jewels, so that\nRuth's mother's eyes shone with wonder, but little Ruth saw only the\nBaby, which lay asleep on its mother's breast.\n\n\"If only I might hold Him in my arms,\" she thought, but was afraid to\nask.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter a few days, the strangers left Bethlehem, all but the three--the\nman, whose name was Joseph, and Mary, his wife, and the Baby. Then, as\nof old, little Ruth played about the courtyard and the white lamb\nfrolicked at her side. Often she dropped to her knees to press the\nlittle woolly white head against her breast, while she murmured: \"My\nlittle lamb, my very, very own. I love you, lambie,\" and then together\nthey would steal over to the entrance of the cave to peep in at the\nBaby, and always she thought, \"If I only might touch his hand,\" but\nwas afraid to ask. One night as she lay in her bed, she thought to\nherself: \"Oh, I wish I had a beautiful gift for him, such as the wise\nmen brought, but I have nothing at all to offer and I love him so\nmuch.\" Just then the light of the star, which was nightly fading, fell\nacross the foot of the bed and shone full upon the white lamb which\nlay asleep at her feet--and then she thought of something. The next\nmorning she arose with her face shining with joy. She dressed\ncarefully and with the white lamb held close to her breast, went\nslowly and painfully down the stairway and over to the door of the\ncave. \"I have come,\" she said, \"to worship Him, and I have brought\nHim--my white lamb.\" The mother smiled at the lame child, then she\nlifted the Baby from her breast and placed Him in the arms of the\nlittle maid who knelt at her feet.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA few days after, an angel came to the father, Joseph, and told him to\ntake the Baby and hurry to the land of Egypt, for the wicked King\nwanted to do it harm, and so these three--the father, mother and\nBaby--went by night to the far country of Egypt. And the star grew\ndimmer and dimmer and passed away forever from the skies over\nBethlehem, but little Ruth grew straight and strong and beautiful as\nthe almond trees in the orchard, and all the people who saw her were\namazed, for Ruth was once a cripple.\n\n\"It was the light of the strange star,\" her mother said, but little\nRuth knew it was the touch of the blessed Christ-Child, who was once\nfolded against her heart.\n\n[*] Used by permission of the author and the publishers, Henry Altemus\nCompany.","title":"Christmas Stories And Legends","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":39208}