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Our Boys
MAKING FULL THE EMPTY HEART.
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BY MARY HUMPHREY.
It was just after Thanksgiving that a friend
and I set aside two days for Christmas shop
ping. On one of our little trips we met a casual
acquaintance while at luncheon. "With the enthusiasm
that this season always brings to her
my friend exclaimed:
"So you've been playing Santa Claus this
morning, too?"
To the woman's face came a look of chill,
'6s if a raw wind had pierced her through arid
' through;
" "No," she said. "You f5ee, we never observe
Christmas in our home. With lis it is too sad
an anniversary even slightly to be tinged with
happiness. My sister died on Christmas Day
ri few years ago, and, of course, the holidays
3have since been a blank page to us in the matter
of celebrating. I haveti't the heart to plan
gifts and merrymaking. On the contrary, 1
always wish 1 might go to sleep early in December
and not waken until after the New Year
1 lias begun."
"But?but aren't there children in your fam"liy?"
I eould not refrain from saying.
0 " Yes, and they have been brought up to respect
oiir wishes in the matter," came the reply
in a tone to make us feel that the matter
was a closed incident, so far as our conversation
was concerned.
The woman finished her luncheon and bade
us good-bye.. My companion and I looked at
each other blankly. . .?
"That poor, poor woman! Those, poor children,"
she finally sighed, "cheated out of the
greatest glory of life. But let's not talk about
it. I haven't words to express what I think
of such an attitude."
And with that we dropped the subject. Yet
all day, and for days afterwards, a picture of
that joyless home at the glad Christmas season
would keep flashing across my mind.
The empty heart! How often we meet it, in
this world too carefully, schooled in selfishness.
*To its possessor helotics nnno ,r?f flio
which encircles an overflowing love of life?
none of the peace and joy that result from becoming
as little children.
But for every empty heart, I argued, there
must be at least one full of interest in human
welfare and the deeper things of life.
And at last my thought strayed to a Chicago
family of my acquaintance. Years ago the oldest
son?handsome, talented; loved by all?
fell ill with an incurable disease. For months
,
he lav in a hospital, and finally, just three days
before Christmas, his life fliebered nut. Services
for him were held early Christmas morning.
directly after which his sister and brother
rode to the hospital where he had spent his
last hours. Both exceptional musicians, they
wont ouietlv about amoner the charity wards
of the institution, s^nenner Christmas soncrs and
bravely scattering Cliristmas cheer. And every
Christmas Pay since then this little ceremony
lias been repeated. "What a tribute to the love
that eonouers human jrrief, to the triumph of
love over the empty heart, to the power of faith
that reaches?we know not to what distances!
Then. too. T have thouarht often during these
last weeks of a friend who has iust been ptuncred
from proaf happiness into deep sorrow. Tier
husband was recently killed'-in an automobile
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SO
?
and Girls
accident and she is left with four young children
and heavy business cares.
"How ever are you going to live through
Christmas this year?" a neighbor asked hor.
"Your husband always made so much of it, I .
dare say you'll want to forget that such a day
exists." ; r
The questioner received a straight, sad look.
"Why, no, indeed, I don't want to forget the happiest
day of the year, the day that we all
enjoyed together more than any other. ' I have
planned gifts for the children just as nearly as
I could the way their father and I would t
have done; and they will make gifts to eaeh
other and to certain outsiders. We'll hdvc a ,
family dinner and a tree?and all; and the
< money the children and I should have spent .
.for John we"?^there was a tremble oh the
. bravely smilingdips?"we have decided to give
toward making several poor families happier,
.. no, indeed, I shall not shut our doors on Christmas
happiness. That is for tne living, you
rknow."
Yes, Christmas is for the living and the loving.
Not only is it the birthday of the Man
of sorrows, acquainted with grief. It is the .
birthday of the Lord of love, of joy, of peace
i on earth, of*life itself.
For those of us whom sorrow may have
touched during the last year, or during other
years, are there not joys remaining which out
weigh the grief, or phantoms of grief, that skirt
.our pathway? Ought we, dare we so far forget
. the benefits of God as to measure his loving
wisdom by our own selfish ignorance? Is not
the sun glow better than the ooid night wind
in our hearts? But we can never make the ,
sun glow by shutting the joyous, vivid things
from life; by grief-clasped indifference to the .
duty and the beauty of living. It comes only
through forgetfulness of self, through abiding
"faith, through devotion and lovifig service to
others. Out of sorrow and suffering it is impossible
to work a new love and a new understanding,
which are the embodiment of the
Christmas spirit.
Let us not blow the chill breath of the empty
heart upon our Christmas candles. But, lighted
with the taper of service and of childlike t
" faith, through love let us keep them burning
brightly.?The Continent;
? '
A CHRISTMAS STORY.
% f J
BY WTTX EVA CAUUTHEnS?CLASS 1914.
A little cottage on a hill, small though it
seemed, yet there was a quiet and peaceful look
to those who passed by on the broad thoroughfair.
just below the little gate?though unpretentious
was the home. The beautiful cedars,
arbor vitaes and magnolias, which waved with
every wind, and bowed in every snow, were a ,
cathedral for birds,' who held a concert njorn,
noon and nicrht fnv
0 , | J V'i MUJO ui CV VII
cats respected dear Mother Northern's lititle
home, where she had lived from childhood.
VenrR ago father, mother, hushand and' children,
had passed over the river to' /calms of
love and peace. Living here alone, the days
of her sunny, trusting, peaceful, Christian life
fled on.
She was sitting with her knitting, as our
story opens?rt cheerful Are burned bp tpo
* hearth?a eat sat purring near, and a, canary,
the gift of a loving child, filled thf room'with
ehebr and melody. *n r.
The children in the thriving littW village,
U T H 1 \ December 25, i9\2
a half of mile distant "de'emed-'Mother Northern
theib own. ' Each Vied With the other in
visiting and takihgil6"Ve tokens to her, after
sitting for hdiirs listtliiilig* td her sweet Christmas
stories, or pofaMrtg cot-n, or eating "cook
ics," made in shapes of dolls, cats and lions.
Often Mother Northern's larder was very
scant; and sometimes her fingers were very
stiff from rheumatism, so that she could not
darn, which was her living. The prosperous
brought lace and finery, which no other needle
in the country could weave in and out on fine
laces, as Mother Northern's. For years she
had paid taxes and supported herself, never
letting the small home look untidy.
A sw-eet smile-was on her dear old face, this
afternoon.' It ,was-Christmas Eve?and her
thoughts were ,with .the happy days gone by.
The canarybird burst forth in carol) , and
broueht her from her. reverie . .< .. .
- ^ ."T.ujjra*Ti ?s.
"Glieor. on littlcjUary; \vb haVe been Weasbd.
What a sunny ^.bright hotae is giVen-ds by our
lleaVenly Father.; "Now I nriust- go lafod feetliny
Outside warblers, for the dear dhildreii ?h?Ve
btou&ht a bnndle.of wheat on*sticks fof MUther
Northern tq ptit jtip"!; ^?r ' t',e hungry i little
;muuths.''' I' Sir Thomas,'addressihg .the cat,
"How thfe elouclS 'do thicken ! " W&shall' have, a'
white, cold Ghristrtxas, and' I shall miss the
precious little faces front- the village: But
deary, me, "cookies" kdep, and so does popcorn.
The sun will shine again, and the bright
little faces will keep in; let us wait." After
feeding the birds and" pausing to listen to
varied notes of-thanks,.which bame forth, from
)
blue birds, red birds, snow birds, and various
other kind.
"Yes, 4. ?ite.j^on^ing^g The large
- hakes began to fall in almost sheets with a stiff
northwest wind,
i. . *' ^ , 1 . t . .. 1 Vi;. .. . :
It was well the coal and water "were under
.. therroof, or Mother Northern'spl^ body could
hardly have managed, to,atandcagainst so
.searching a wind. * \Yith hurried steps she came
in, bustling around, making things comfortable
for the night. Sipping her tea now. and then,
and' talking-, to the. cat, .as the wind shrieked
..dike human voices. .The snow piled-higher and
.. higher. . The humble form -knelt in silent supplication
to her Maker,, for the lives of those
<;who were baffling with ,the snow and wind. The
.voice spoke aJoud-r-''ThereT. Oh! my Saviour
and my God, protect, those who-have no shel.ter
this night?let $hy, angels hover -near the
^.weak and helpless, and,cheer theraI;with Thy
. lr+1,^ .1iL. ? -e mi__
iv > iu , uiuiu uuuci uit; siiaamv Ol J. Iiy
wing?for.. Thy Son, our Saviour's sake."
..Arising from herrk-neea, > she -gazed out of the
window/.'',tVVhy3 1- believe I qra a little nervous
to-night. D?ar life, it is so cold, though I feel
that, those wito ta^e out will-be protected.f ?
- - ., . *1 . * ,
'Ed* trtt. gruaan: o .u o *'
,A mile distant another scene was beings enacted,
A prosperous farmer, surrounded with
every comfort and epnvenienoe, sat talking to
his wifp, ?
^ j''Why keep the bronze turkey? The chil.dren-will
not think of him again. Their minds
will be tpo full of old Saint Nick."
?.!.''Oh! 4e?r> i^-would mar their . Ghristrtras
-joys.They have hpd this-splendid bird, all
summer forja playmnte?and it-is quite amtis
ing to see him-standing near theM,' With his
fine head taller th(^; theirs* He almost tfrlks
to them, in fact he follows them ^erever. they
go, dtfeij as far as fltothW Northern's,'' . ?
fi|t', T^jdon't believe in such, indulgence.
?t^e'te l?i)led.,,L9f '. - r,
Iftftie beads' were Jiowcd in. the next
' $ere siieityy darning, and with
flasittto&f^/esvand clenclied li$t, Nell, the eldest
c i^utrb *u0 ?UB<oT In Tdte . 2 . v spoKe
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