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I like that old iweet legend
Not found in Holy Writ
And with that John or Matthew
Had made Bible out of it.
But, though it it not a gospel,
There is no law to hold
The heart from growing better
That heart the ttory told:
How the little Jewith children
Upon a summer day
Went down across the meadows
With the Child Christ to play
And in the gold green valley
Where low the reed grass lay
They made them mock mud sparrows
Out of the meadow clay.
80, when these all were fashioned
And ranged in flocks about,
"Now," said the little Jesus,
“We'll let the birds fly out.”
Then all the happy children
Did call and coax and cry
Each to his own mud sparrow,
“Fly, as I bid you—fly!"
1/
mu LlTrt.U HI*AIllUIW WENT SOARING TO
TliK BUY.
But earthen wore the sparrows,
And earth they did remain,
Though loud the Jewish children
Cried out and cried again.
Except the one bird only
The little Lord Christ made.
The earth that owned him master,
His earth heard and obeyed.
Softly he loaned and whispered,
"Fly up to heavon, fly!"
And swift his little sparrow
Went soaring to the sky.
And silent all the children
Stood awestruck looking on
Till deep into the heavens
The bird of earth had gone.
I like to think for playmate
We havo the Lord Christ still
And that still above our weakness
He works his mighty will;
That all our little playthings
Of earthen hopes and joys
Shall be by his commandment
Changed into heavenly joys.
Our souls are like the sparrows
Imprisoned in the clay—
Bless him who came to give them
wings
Upon a Christmas day.
Most Liberal Christmas Givers.
Tin* tiljr prlvnti* banking houses of
Wall street tire tlu* most liberal re-
warders at t'hrlstnias. Just as they are
the heaviest salary payers throughout
the year. The greatest house III the
street has been known to give HK) per
rent bonus to all employees at New
Year's -that Is, double pay for the en
tire year. In that firm New Year's Is
the greater day. Nobody has ever ex
plained exactly why It Is preferred to
Christmas. Often the house gives 40
IH*r cent. But. like other private bank
ing firms, It never lets It get out what
bonus It will pay for fear that the
slue of the gift will be taken by the
world to Indicate the state of pros
perity of the linn's preceding year.
Every year the amount of the bonus
naturally doe* leak out afterward
through the people who get pieces of
It and who lunch with benefited ones
from other bunking houses. So It is
that almost everything in Wall street
leaks out through the imiiab'e weak
nesses of luncheon gossip.
Ths "Little People'*” Chriitma*.
Long ago. in Merry England, the
popular belief was that the “little peo
ple” id the forest come at Yule time
to join In the Christmas festivities
with mortals. Now. It is well known
that the “little people" do not like to
tie seen and will not venture where
there Is any possibility of prying hu
man eyes ilndlng them. So, In order
to please their sprightly little guests,
rich and poor provide the tiny friends
with hiding places of thick, green
wreathe and festoons, where they can
1 s»k on the revelries unseen.
THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT;
A CHRISTMAS FANCY
D UIYEN from the heart of tin*
people. Christ Ilia* Spirit left
the great shops, tied from the
market places and from every
habitat of man until he came to the
quiet little sunlit path that runs
through the deep wood.
When he was yet afar off the most
perfect I'ir Tree In all the forest called
ga.vly to the Great Oak at her side.
“Christmas Is coming!''
“Yes," answered the big oak, "but
there Is something wrong. Bee how
he halts at the end of the path, stoop
ing as If the load of the world’s sor
row lay upon his shoulders. See how
he comes now, witty all the gluduess
gone from Ids step.”
It was quite true. Christinas Spirit
eame toward the most perfect Fir Tree
In the wood with lagging step, looking
away through the forest with sad and
troubled eyes.
“Why, what Is the matter, Christ
mas'/’’ called the Fir Tree. •
There was.no answer. The forlorn
figure sat down on n fallen log at the
foot of the Fir Tree, hut still there was
no answer.
"Tell me about It all, Christmas,’’ In
vited the Fir Tree In a voice vibrant
with sympathy.
“I have been over the wide world. 1
have knocked at the door of every
heart, and no one has opened to me. I
am forgotten, and there Is no one who
loves me,” he said.
"Every heart’/" questioned the Elr
Tree Incredulously.
“No, but many, many hearts, and
they are all alike." he compromised.
"1 have been in the home of men and
stood ho close to them that I could lay
a linger on their naked hearts, but they
did not stir at my touch. They looked
me squarely in the eye, and these are
the things they said to some woman In
their homes: ‘Tlon’t break me.’ ‘I shall
lie months paying the bills you are
making.’ ‘Christmas is a nuisance.’
‘Confound this custom of giving pres
ents anyway!’
"These are the things they said while
they looked Into my eyes, and nil the
while my hands lay frozen against
their hearts.
"I went and stood beside the women
in many, ninny homes, and they looked
through me ns t bough I was not. One
beautiful lady 1 think of now in par
ticular. Oh. I wanted a place in her
heart, and I knocked loud and long, but
the door did not open so much as a
crack for me to enter. She looked into
my eyes and said: ’I wonder what Mrs.
Brown paid for that bag sbe gave tile
las! year. It looked like n cheat) thing,
and I shall not spend much money on
her.’ And again, ’It Is awful to just
have to make gifts to people you do
not cure a thing about.’
"No one loves me, and I cannot live
without love, and so l shall die,” sob
bed Christmas Spirit to tlu* Fir Tree.
“Christmas has come to be just a Mg
exchange desk, where people give to
those whom they know will give to
them and grumble In the giving.”
"Come closer.” whispered the Fir
Tree. "I have something to tell you.
"A woman came to the heart of the
wood yesterday," said the Fir Tree,
“and with her there was another wo
man.
" *\Ve must (Ind tin* most perfect tree
In all the forest, for none other will
do,’ said the first woman.
“ ‘Yes.’ said the second woman, ‘for
tlu* child has no one to bring Christ
mas Spirit to her. no relatives, no
friends, no one to cure.’
"They talked on mid on until the
story of the little crippled child for
whom they were preparing a joyous
Christmas came out. She was nothing
to them, but she was alone and not like
other children.
"A party of men were walking
through the wood last Sunday,” went
on the Fir Tree, for Christmas Spirit
had stopped sobbing now and was lis
tening intently.
"One of these men was telling the
others about bis aged father, who
worked his lingers almost to the bone
in years gone by to give Ills boy an
education. Now he is very feeble, al
most down the western slope, and his
son who will always be Just a little
boy to the old man is going back to
the little country village to spend a
portion of the holidays with him and
lift the veil of loneliness from his soul,
lie has planned some wonderful sur
prises for the lonely old man away
back there In the country." ended the
Fir Tree.
“Oh. has he!" exclaimed Christmas,
no longer a forlorn little llgure, but a
happy, happy spirit.
"1 am going away next week to be
decked for the little crippled child,"
laughed the l'lr Tree when Christmas
Spirit stopiH'd mid Ills mad dance of
joy. "And 1 am going across the whole
world, and 1 shall knock so earnestly
at the heart of every human being that
no one can fail to open wide the inner
doors to Christmas Spirit.” called the
little figure of Christmas Joy as he
danced away toward the edge of the
wood and the cities and towns beyond.
Julia Chandler Mails in Buffalo Ex
press.
Profit and Los* at Christmas.
Old Lady What’s the matter with
the little boy?
Elder Brother—Oh. he’s cryin’cos I’m
eutiu’ my Christmas cake an’ won’t
give him any.
Old Lady—Is hts own cake finished,
then?
Elder Brother — Yes. an’ he cried
while I was eatiu’ tlrnt too.
Collecting on
Christmas
Told by a Drummer
A BUNCH of us were putting In
Sunday evening swapping
yarns of our early days on tlu*
road when it came the turn of
an accident Insurance special.
"The first trip I ever made was when
I was n kid of twenty." he said. "I
was shipping clerk In an agricultural
Implement house hi Brooklyn. I was
to make u collection, mid. of all days in
the year, 1 was to See the man on
Christmas day!
“Why then? Well, the chap I was
to see was a big farmer up In the hills
of Sullivan county, and In* did quite a
business in farm Implements among his
neighbors. lie hud given the house u
bunch of notes running four months
and falling due Sept. 1. Every one of
them came hack protested.
“The junior partner had charge of
the collections, and he figured there
was just one sure way of nailing the
chap, and that was to get to the house
Christmas morning.
“I don’t remember the name of the
village I hud to get off at, hut I do re
member It was a mighty cold night
when I arrived there. I got away all
right in the morning after the hotel
man had given me ull sorts of direc
tions ubout the wuy to get to John-
ston’H place, twelve miles away.
"Johnston himself opened it and
without waiting for a word from me
said: ’Come right in, stranger. Mighty
cold morning, ain't it? S’pose you lost
your way.’
“I didn't commit myself one way or
the other, but accepted his invitation
by walking Into the parlor. There was
a hunch of children In the room, one a
lad of sixteen or so, who was told to
put the horse tip. There was a big
Christmas tree in the window, all dec
orated with slilny ornaments and tin
sel.
“We chatted for quite awhile until
he laid to go to the barn to help Ills
men tend the horses. 1 played with
the children, and when he got bnck I
had the litt lost, girl on my knee and
was reading to her.
“ ‘Started snowing again,’ Johnston
remarked us he stamped his feet on the
rag rug outside the parlor door. ‘Din
ner'll lie ready In a little while, but
I’ll have the wife hurry it up if you
have to get it way.’
"I told him 1 couldn’t think of but
ting In on the family that way and
“YOU'LL TALK NO BUSINESS TO ME TODAY.”
that if he'd give me a few minutes I’d
like to talk a little business with him.
"‘You'll talk no business to me to
day,’ he said. ’You’ll have dinner and
supper with us and a mighty good bed
tonight. You can talk business In the
morning.’
" ‘But’— I broke in.
" 'There’s no "hut" about it. That's
the program, and l‘m boss in this
house!'
“And let me tell you, boys, I had a
bully time!
“After breakfast my bost took me
into the little office ho had between the
parlor and dining room and told me to
fire away.
“What do you think I said? ‘Mr.
Johnston. 1 don't want to talk business
at all. I'm going on my way, and I'll
come again tomorrow.'
•• ‘Don't be afraid. If it's something
disagreeable spit It out!’ be said.
‘What’s the question?’
" ’When are you going to take up
those notes of Ehrman & Wilson’s?
That’s what they sent me up from
Brooklyn about. But after the friendly
way you and your wife'hnve treated
me 1 have nothing more to say. I'm
ashamed of my job.'
" ‘You're all right, young man,' he
remarked, to my astonishment and re
lief, ‘1 don’t blame you a bit, and I
admire the stand you take. Read some
more stories to Nellie out of her book
while 1 look after the cattle, and by
and by we’ll drive to town, nnd I’ll fix
up the notes for you. 1 have been
pretty hard up the last few months,
but I got In a sum of money a few
days ago, and everything Is O. K. now.’
“When we got to the bank he gave
me a certified check for the $600 he
owed the house nnd a ten dollar bill
for myself to buy something for my
baby as a present from curly headed
Nellie."—New York Tribune.
fflic little
Christmas
The Christmas day was coming; the
Christmas eve drew near.
The fir trees they were talking low at
midnight, cold and clear,
And this is what the fir tree said, all
in the pale moonilght,
“Now, which of ue shall chosen be to
grace the holy night?”
The tall trees and the goodly tree*
raised each a lofty head
In glad and secret confidence, though
not a word they said,
But one, the baby of the band, could
not restrain a sigh.
“You all will be approved," he said.
“But, oh, what chance have I?”
THE CHRIRTMAS ANGEL AND SANTA CLADS.
“I am so small, so very small, no one
will mark or know
How thick and green my noedles are,
how true my branches grow.
Few toys and candle* could I hold, but
heart and will are free,
And in my heart of hearts I know I am
a Christmas tree.’’
The Christmas angel hovered near; he
caught the grieving word,
And, laughing low, he hurried forth,
with love and pity stirred.
He sought and found St. Nicholas, the
dear old Christmas saint,
And in his fatherly, kind ear rehearsed
the fir tree’s plaint.
Saints are all powerful, we know, so it
befell that day
That, ax on shoulder, to the grove a
woodman took his way.
One baby girl he had at home, and he
went forth to find
A little tree as small as she, just suit
ed to his mind.
Oh, glad and proud the baby fir, amid
its brethren tall,
To be thus chosen and singled out, the
first among them all!
He stretched his fragrant branches; his
little heart beat fast;
He was a real Christmas tree—he had
his wish at last.
One large and shining apple, with
cheeks of ruddy gold;
Six tapers and a tiny doll were all that
he could hold.
The baby laughed, the baby crowed, to
see the tapers bright;
The forest baby felt the joy and shared
in the delight.
And when at last the tapers died and
when the baby slept
The little fir, in silent night, a patient
vigil kept.
Though scorched and brown its needles
were, it had no heart to grieve.
“i have not lived in vain,” he said.
“Thank God for Christmas evel"
The First Christmas Card.
The honor of the Christinas card is
ascribed frequently to the late W. C.
T. Dobson, an English painter. In
December, 1844, a date earlier than
that given to any other claim, he was
anxious to send some more novel
Christmas greeting than that of a let
ter to a distant friend, and the idea
occurred to him to make a little sketch
symbolizing the spirit of the season.
The sketch depicted in its center a
family party gathered around the
Christmas dinner table raising glasses
to tiie health of absent friends. Un
derneath were the words “A Merry
Christmas and a Happy New Year to
you,” while on each side was a small
er sketch representing an act of be
nevolence. Mr. Dobson’s card so
pleased its recipient that the following
year he designed nnother card, of
which he sent lithographed copies to
« large eirele of friends. Other artists
followed his example, and the circle
sending out Christmas cards grew
wider and wider until an enterprising
printer saw there was money In the
business, and within a few years from
its birth the Christmas card was to be
seen In hundreds of shop windows.
THE ORIGIN OF
THE YULE LOG
T TIE following story of the origin
of tho Yule log It Virginia Is
told In the Pictorial Review by
La Salle Corbell Pickett in nn
article dealing with Christmas lu the
south in wartime:
One time an old black man was sit
ting In his little cabin on a mountain
side on Christmas eve listening to the
cold wind howl over u world of snow
and wishing that he had a tire to warm
him when be heard the er.v of a little
child away out in the cold. The old
man hobbled to the door and looked
out across the snow, nnd the wind
cuine rushing in and made him shiver
so thnt his “onllest two teef” chattered
with cold. Again the cry eame across
the snow, and he wished with all his
power of longing that lie could go out
and find the unfortunate little one. for
the plaintive cry of a little child always
goes strnlght to the heart. A third
time the cry came, and n miraculous
power seemed to fill the old man’s
veins. His muscles became tense and
strong, nnd lie stepped from the thresh
old into the snow, the crutch fulling
hack In the cabin.
In an instant he was walking over
the expanse of frozen snow with an
activity he lmd not possessed since he
used to “go to camp meetin'.’’ By nnd
by he eame to a little child caught In a
snow hank. He lifted the child, and ns
its little form touched him a new
strength came into him, and the small
burden seemed to give him wings to
speed back to the little cabin. He put
the child on the bed, drew the rugged
quilt around it and looked about to see
If there might he a piece of furniture
of which he could make a fire to warm
his small guest.
At that instant he saw a great log
roll across tho threshold nnd into the
fireplace. The little child was looking
at It with eyes like stars, and they
sent gleams of light that kindled the
log with'the most brilliant fire the old
man had ever seen, and the dingy
little room was filled with radiance
and warmth that brought a glow to
the soul as well as to the body nnd
seemed to flood the world with light.
As the light wrapped the child in a
shining glory he laughed a laugh that
was like a song of the heart and float
ed up and away. The old man turned
his eyes to where the fire burned nud
watched the flames leap in opalescent
tints over the log forming the shape
of a cross in fire.
At this point In the narrative Br’er
Simon usually became grently excit
ed, and bis eyes kindled as he went
on In his rich dialect:
“De flames er de cross sprend en
chase utter one ernudder, a-erawlin’
eu n-creepln’ in en out en around en
about, a-skadliu’ hyer eu a-skadlin'
dnr; n-lippln’ up higher and higher;
firs' a 111 blue blaze would come, den
a ynller one, den a bright red one
would flare up, en den de blazes would
all mingulate dnrsefs tergedder—red
en blue eu yaller en white would ull
mix wld de kiudleatlon colors er de
rainbow, en crackle en crackle en lip
higher en bigger en bigger, de crackles
a-getten’ louder en louder, eu de blazes
gittin’ bigger en bigger.”
As the old man watched all this dis
play suddenly ami magically appeared
a table covered with a Christmas feast
such as had never been spread before
his eyes, and never again was he hun
gry or cold, and never was there a
Christmas in old Virginia after that
without the Yule log and the Christ
mas child to give it light and warmth.
'Tis given out in many a song and
story
That celebrate our blessed Saviour's
birth—
On Christmas eve all creatures do him
glory,
Even the very lowliest ones of earth.
’Tis said that at the dawn of Christ
mas morning
Dumb animals are given power to
speak.
The masters of these creatures should
take warning
Lest they should be accused by things
so meek.
In lowly stall and manger there aro
praises
Unto the Christ Child, whom they
claim as friend.
Each creature his own thankfulness up
raises
And sings a Christmas carol with
out end.
My
Christmas
Tree
<5?
Charles Dickens
I HAVE been looking on this even
ing at a merry company of chil
dren assembled around that pret
ty German toy, a Christmas tree.
Being now at home again and alone,
the only person in the house awake,
my thoughts are drawn back by a fas
cination which I do not care to resist
to my own childhood. Straight In the
middle of the room, cramped in the
freedom of its growth by no encircling
walls or soon reached ceiling, a shad
owy tree arises, and, looking up into
the dreamy brightness of its top, for
I observe in tills tree the singular prop
erty that it nppears to grow down
ward toward the earth, I look into my
youngest Christmas recollections.
All toys at first I find. But upon the
branches of the tree, lower down, how
thick the books begin to hang—thin
books, in themselves at first, but many
of them, with deliciously smooth covers
of bright red and groen!
“A was an archer and shot at a frog.”
Of course he was! He was an apple
pie also, and there he isl He was a
good many things in his time, wus A,
and so were most of his friends, except
X, who had so little versatility that I
never knew him to get beyond Xerxes
or Xantippe.
But now the very tree itself changes
and becomes a beanstalk, the marvel
ous beanstalk by which Jack climbed
up to the giant's house.
Good for Christmas time is the rud
dy color of the cloak in which, the tree
making a forest of itself for her to
trip through with her basket, Little Red
Riding Hood comes to me one Christ
mas eve to give me information of the
cruelty and treachery of that dissem
bling wolf who ate her grandmother
without making any impression on his
appetite nnd then ate her after mak
ing that ferocious joke about his teeth.
She was my first love. I felt that if
I could have married Little Red Rid
ing Hood I should have known perfect
bliss. But it was not to be, and there
was nothing for It but to look for the
wolf in the Noah’s ark there nnd put
him last In the procession on the table
as a monster who was to be degraded.
Oh, the wonderful Noah’s ark! It
was not found seaworthy when put iti
a wnshing tub, nnd the animals were
crammed in at the roof nnd needed to
have their legs well shaken down be
fore they could he got in even there,
and then ten to one they began to tum
ble out at the door, which was but im
perfectly fastened with a wire latch.
But what wus that against it?
Again a forest nud somebody up in
a tree—not Robin Hood, not Valentine,
not the Yellow Dwarf; I have passed
these and all Mother Bunch’s wonders
without mention—but an eastern king
with the glittering scimitar and tur
ban. It is the setting in of the bright
Arabian Nights.
Oh, now all common things become
uncommon and quite enchanted to met
All lamps are most wonderful. All
rings are talismans. Common flower
pots are full of treasure, with a little
earth scattered on the top; trees are fur
All Baba to hide iu; beefsteaks are to
throw down into the Valley of Dia
monds, that the precious stones may
stick to them and be carried by the
eagles to their nests, whence the trad
ers, with loud cries, will scare them.
AH the dates imported come from the
same tree ns that unlucky one with
whose shell the merchant knocked out
the eye of the genie's invisible sou.
But, hark I The waits are playing,
and they break my childish sleep.
What images do I associate with the
Christmas music as I see them set
forth on the Christinas tree! Known
before all the others, keeping far apart
from all the others, they gather round
my little bed—nn angel, speaking to
a group of shepherds in a field; some
travelers, with eyes uplifted, following
a star; n baby in a manger; a child in
a spacious temple, talking with great
men; a solemn figure, with a mild and
beautiful face, raising a dead girl by
the hand; again, near a city gate call
ing back the son of a widow on his
bier to life; a crowd of people looking
through the open roof of a chamber
where he sits and letting down a slek
person on a bed with ropes; the same,
in a tempest, walking on the waters;
in a ship again, oil n seashore, teach
ing a great multitude; again, with a
child upon his knee and other children
around; again, restoring sight to the
blind, speech to the dumb, hearing to
the deaf, health to the sick, strength
to the lame, knowledge to the ignorant;
again, dying upon n cross, watched by
The stars on high unite in joyous sing
ing,
Telling the old, old story, ever new.
The bells from every steeple now are
ringing
Their message on the opalescent blue.
“Peace on earth, good will to every na
tion!"
This is the message all these sounds
foretell.
Both young and old, all things of his
creation,
Unite, for God is good and all is well.
*11 creatures, high and low, dslight in
singing.
Both young and old and rich and
poor unite
In that sweet message which the bells
ar* ringing
Upon the first fsint beams ef morn
ing light.
—Amy Smith in Philadelphia Record.
armed soldiers, a darkness coming “li
the earth beginning to shake and only
one voice heard, “Forgive them, for
they know not wlmt they do I”
Encircled by the social thoughts of
Christmas time, still let the benignant
figure of my childhood stand unchang
ed: In every cheerful irnuge nnd sug
gestion that the season brings may
the bright star that rested above the
poor roof be the star of all the Chris
tian world I
A moment's pause. O vanishing tree,
cf which the lower boughs are dark to
me yet. and let me look once more. I
know there are blank spaces on thy
branches, where eyes that I have loved
have shone and smiled, from which
they are departed. But far above l
see the raiser of the dead girl ani <?>•
widow’s son—and God U good!
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