CHRISTMAS IN LEGEND AND STORY

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comesWherein our Saviour's birth, is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long:And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. 

SHAKESPEARE. 

CHRISTMASINLEGEND AND STORY

A BOOK FOR BOYS AND GIRLS

COMPILED BY

ELVA S. SMITH

CARNEGIE LIBRARYPITTSBURGH

AND

ALICE I. HAZELTINE

PUBLIC LIBRARYST. LOUIS

ILLUSTRATEDFROMFAMOUS PAINTINGS

1915

CHRISTMAS IN LEGEND AND STORY

PREFACE

In our experience in library work with children we have learned that it isvery difficult to find Christmas stories and legends which have literarymerit, are reverent in spirit, and are also suitable for children. Thiscollection has been made in an endeavor to meet this need, and thus to beof service to parents, teachers, and librarians. 

Most of the stories and poems in this book are of the legendary type. Theyhave been chosen from a wide variety of sources and represent the work ofmany writers. There are other stories also, which, although not strictlytraditional, have the same reverent spirit and illustrate traditionalbeliefs and customs. These have been included for their literary value andtheir interest for young people. 

In the arrangement of the selections we have followed the natural order ofthe events in preference to grouping the stories for boys and girls ofdifferent ages. 

Although no attempt has been made to adapt the legends for story-telling, most of them may be used for that purpose. Many of the selections are alsowell suited for reading aloud. 

Above all it is hoped that this book may bring real joy to the boys andgirls for whom it has been compiled. 

ELVA S. SMITH, CATALOGUER OF CHILDREN'S BOOKS, CARNEGIE LIBRARY OF PITTSBURGH. 

ALICE I. HAZELTINE, SUPERVISOR OF CHILDREN'S WORK, ST. LOUIS PUBLIC LIBRARY. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The compilers wish to thank Mrs. Margaret Deland for permission to use"The Christmas Silence;" Mrs. Etta Austin McDonald for her adaptation ofCoppée's "Sabot of Little Wolff" from "The Child Life Fifth Reader;"Josephine Preston Peabody for "The Song of a Shepherd-Boy at Bethlehem;"Mrs. William Sharp for "The Children of Wind and the Clan of Peace, " byFiona Macleod; Nora Archibald Smith and the editors of the _Outlook_ for"The Haughty Aspen;" and the editors of _Good Housekeeping Magazine, _Little, Brown & Company and Mrs. Velma Swanston Howard for her translationof "The Legend of the Christmas Rose, " by Selma Lagerlöf, taken from _GoodHousekeeping Magazine_, copyright, 1907. Copyright, 1910, by Little, Brown& Company. 

Thanks are also due to the following publishers for permission to reprintpoems and stories on which they hold copyright: The Century Company forfour selections from _St. Nicholas_, "The Little Gray Lamb" by A. B. Sullivan, "A Christmas Legend" by Florence Scannell, "Félix" by EvaleenStein, "The Child Jesus in the Garden;" The Churchman Company for "TheBlooming of the White Thorn" by Edith M. Thomas; Doubleday, Page & Companyfor "Neighbors of the Christ Night" by Nora Archibald Smith; E. P. Dutton &Company for "The Sin of the Prince Bishop" by William Canton; Ginn &Company for "Christmas Carol" from "Open Sesame;" Mr. William Heinemannfor "The Flight into Egypt" by Selma Lagerlöf; Houghton Mifflin Companyfor "The Child Born at Bethlehem" by H. E. Scudder, "The Christmas Song ofCaedmon" by H. E. G. Pardee, "The Little Mud-Sparrows" by Elizabeth StuartPhelps. 

"St. Christopher of the Gael" and "The Cross of the Dumb" are includedthrough the courtesy of Messrs. Duffield & Company. From "Poems andDramas" by Fiona Macleod, copyright, 1901, 1903, 1907, by Thomas B. Mosher; 1910 by Duffield & Company. 

The selection "Christmas at Greccio" from "God's Troubadour" by SophieJewett is included by special arrangement with T. Y. Crowell Company. "TheLittle Friend" by Abbie Farwell Brown, "Christmas Hymn" by R. W. Gilder, "The Three Kings" by H. W. Longfellow, and "The Star Bearer" by E. C. Stedman are included by special arrangement with Houghton Mifflin Company;and "The Three Kings of Cologne" by Eugene Field, and "Earl Sigurd'sChristmas Eve" by H. H. Boyesen, by special arrangement with CharlesScribner's Sons. 

The story of St. Christopher is taken chiefly from the "Golden Legend, "but a few suggestions for its adaptation were obtained from a version byOlive Logan. 

CONTENTS

"THE GRACIOUS TIME"

THE ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS ST. LUKE, II, 1-16

THE CHILD BORN AT BETHLEHEM HORACE ELISHA SCUDDER

AS JOSEPH WAS A-WALKING OLD ENGLISH CAROL

THE PEACEFUL NIGHT JOHN MILTON

THE CHRISTMAS SILENCE MARGARET DELAND

NEIGHBORS OF THE CHRIST NIGHT NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH

CHRISTMAS CAROL FROM THE NEAPOLITAN

A CHRISTMAS HYMN RICHARD WATSON GILDER

THE SONG OF A SHEPHERD--BOY AT BETHLEHEM JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS ROSES ADAPTED FROM AN OLD LEGEND

THE LITTLE GRAY LAMB ARCHIBALD BERESFORD SULLIVAN

THE HOLY NIGHT ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

THE STAR BEARER EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN

THE VISIT OF THE WISE MEN ST. MATTHEW, II, 1-12

THE THREE KINGS HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

THE THREE HOLY KINGS ADAPTED FROM THE GOLDEN LEGEND, AND OTHER SOURCES

THE THREE KINGS OF COLOGNE EUGENE FIELD

BABOUSCKA ADELAIDE SKEEL

THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT SELMA LAGERLÖF

THE HAUGHTY ASPEN NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH

THE LITTLE MUD-SPARROWS ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS

THE CHILDREN OF WIND AND THE CLAN OF PEACE FIONA MACLEOD

THE CHILD JESUS IN THE GARDEN AUTHOR UNKNOWN

THE MYSTIC THORN ADAPTED FROM TRADITIONAL SOURCES

THE BLOOMING OF THE WHITE THORN EDITH MATILDA THOMAS

LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER ADAPTED FROM THE GOLDEN LEGEND

ST. CHRISTOPHER OF THE GAEL FIONA MACLEOD

THE CROSS OF THE DUMB FIONA MACLEOD

THE CHRISTMAS SONG OF CAEDMON H. E. G. PARDEE

GOOD KING WENCESLAS JOHN MASON NEALE

THE CHRISTMAS AT GRECCIO: A STORY OF ST. FRANCIS SOPHIE JEWETT

THE SIN OF THE PRINCE BISHOP WILLIAM CANTON

EARL SIGURD'S CHRISTMAS EVE HJALMAR HJORTH BOYESEN

A CHRISTMAS LEGEND FLORENCE SCANNELL

THE LEGEND OF THE CHRISTMAS ROSE SELMA LAGERLÖF

FÉLIX EVALEEN STEIN

THE SABOT OF LITTLE WOLFF FRANÇOIS COPPÉE

THE LITTLE FRIEND ABBIE FARWELL BROWN

WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOÏ

CHRISTMAS INLEGEND AND STORY

"THE GRACIOUS TIME"

According to tradition, on the Holy Night there fell upon Bethlehem ofJudea a strange and unnatural calm; the voices of the birds were hushed, water ceased to flow and the wind was stilled. But when the child Jesuswas born all nature burst into new life; trees put forth green leaves, grass sprang up and bright flowers bloomed. To animals was granted thepower of human speech and the ox and the ass knelt in their stalls inadoration of the infant Saviour. Then it was that the shepherds abiding inthe field with their flocks heard the angels praising God, and kings ofthe Orient watching in their "far country" saw ablaze in the heavens thelong-expected sign. Even in distant Rome there sprang up a well orfountain which "ran largely" and the ancient prophetess, Sibyl, lookingeastward from the Capitoline hill heard the angel song and saw in visionall the wonders of that night. 

There are many such traditional tales of the nativity, of the "star-ledwizards" and of the marvels wrought by the boy Christ. They tell of thebees singing their sweet hymn of praise to the Lord, of the palm-treebending down its branches that the weary travellers fleeing from the wrathof Herod might be refreshed by its fruit, of the juniper which opened toconceal them and of the sweet-smelling balsam which grew wherever thedrops of moisture fell from the brow of the Boy "as He ran about or toiledin His loving service for His Mother. " Quaint fancies some of these, perhaps, and not all of them worth preserving; but oftentimes beautiful, and with a germ of truth. 

From the centuries between then and now, come stories of holy men, ofbishops and peasant-saints, and of brave men who preached the White Christto the vikings of the north or on Iona's isle. As in popular belief, witheach returning eve of the nativity the miracles of the first Christmashappen again, so in these tales the thorn-tree blossoms anew and wonderfulroses bloom in the bleak forest. 

Other stories tell how on each Christmas eve the little Christ-child comesagain to earth and wanders through village or town, while lighted candlesare placed in the windows to guide Him on His way. 

These various legends and traditional tales, which sprang up among thepeople like flowers by the wayside and became a part of the life of theMiddle Ages, are still of interest to us of to-day and have a distinctcharm of their own. And when the childlike faith and beauty of thought ofthe finest of these have found expression in literary form they seemparticularly suited for our reading at "the gracious time. "

THE ADORATION OF THE SHEPHERDS

ST. LUKE, II, 1-16

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree fromCaesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. 

And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria. 

And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. 

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, intoJudaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; because he wasof the house and lineage of David:

To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. 

And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplishedthat she should be delivered. 

And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddlingclothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them inthe inn. 

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keepingwatch over their flock by night. 

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lordshone round about them: and they were sore afraid. 

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you goodtidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. 

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which isChrist the Lord. 

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped inswaddling clothes, lying in a manger. 

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly hostpraising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. 

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, andsee this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known untous. 

And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lyingin a manger. 

THE CHILD BORN AT BETHLEHEM

HORACE ELISHA SCUDDER

About six miles to the south of Jerusalem is the village of Bethlehem, lying along the slope and on the top of a gray hill, from the steepeastern end of which one looks over a broad plain, toward a range of highhills beyond. At any time, as one drew near the place, coming fromJerusalem, he would pass by rounded hills, and now and then cross littleravines with brooks, sometimes full of water, sometimes only beds ofstone; and, if it were spring-time, he would see the hills and valleyscovered with their grass, and sprinkled abundantly with a great variety ofwild flowers, daisies, poppies, the Star of Bethlehem, tulips andanemones--a broad sheet of color, of scarlet, white and green. Perhaps, very long ago, there were trees also where now there are none; and onthose hills, gray with the stone that peeped out through the grass, stoodthe mighty cedars of Lebanon, stretching out their sweeping branches, andoaks, sturdy and rich with dark foliage, green the year round. At anyrate, then, as now, we may believe that there were vineyards upon thesunny slopes, and we know that the wind blew over corn-fields covering theplains that lay between the ranges of hills. 

It is of the time long since that we are thinking, when there were nomassive buildings on Bethlehem hill, such as are to be seen in the town asit now appears. Instead, there were low houses, many of mud and sunburntbrick, some so poor, doubtless, that the cattle were stalled, if not inthe same room with the people of the house, yet so near that they could beheard through the partition, stamping, and crunching their food. There wasan inn there, also; but we must not think of it as like our modernpublic-houses, with a landlord and servants, where one could have what heneeded by paying for it. Rather, it was a collection of buildings for theconvenience and accommodation of travelers, who brought with them whateverthey required of food, and the means of preparing it, finding there onlyshelter and the roughest conveniences. The larger inns of this sort werebuilt in the form of a great courtyard surrounded by arcades, in whichpeople stayed, and kept their goods, if they were merchants. 

The inn at Bethlehem was not probably one of these greatcaravanserais, --as they are called now in the East, because caravans stopat them; and it is even possible that the stables about the inn weresimply caves scooped out of the soft chalk rock, for the country therehas an abundance of these caves used for this very purpose. 

From the hill on which Bethlehem stands, one can see travelersapproaching, and at that time, long ago, no doubt the people who livedthere saw companies of travelers, on foot or mounted, coming up to thevillage. For it was a busy time in Judea. The Emperor at Rome, the capitalof the world, had ordered a tax to be laid upon his subjects, and first ithad to be known just who were liable to be taxed. Nowadays, and in ourcountry, people have their names taken down at the door of their ownhouses, and pay their tax in the town where they live. But then, in Judea, it was different. If a man had always lived in one place, and his parentsbefore him, well and good: there his name was taken down, and there he wastaxed. But if he was of a family that had left another place, he went backto the old home, and there his name was registered. There were many, itmay be, who at this time were visiting Bethlehem for this purpose. 

At least, we know of two amongst these travelers; devout and humble peoplethey were; Joseph, a carpenter, living in Nazareth, a village of Galilee, sixty miles or more to the northward, and Mary, his wife. Together theywere coming to Bethlehem, for while Nazareth was now their home, they weresprung from a family that once lived in Bethlehem, and though they werenow poor and lowly, that family was the royal family, and King David, thegreatest king that ever sat on the Jewish throne, was their ancestor. Perhaps, as they climbed the hill, they thought of Ruth, who had gleanedin the corn-fields just where they were passing, and no doubt they thoughtof Ruth's great-grandson, King David, who was born here, and here kept hisfather's sheep, --such sheep as even now they could see on the hillsides, watched by the watching shepherds. 

They came, like the rest, to the caravanserai, but found it already filledwith travelers. They could not have room with other men and women, and yetthere was shelter to be had, for the place where the horses and beasts ofburden stood was not all taken up. It may be that many of those nowoccupying the inn had come on Joseph's errand, and, not being merchants, had come unattended by the beasts that bore the goods of merchants, whowere there occupying the inn; and what were they there for? We can onlyguess. All is forgotten of that gathering; men remember only the twotravelers from Nazareth who could find no room in the inn, and made theirresting-place by a manger. 

For there, away from the crowd, was born to Mary a child, whom she wrappedin swaddling-clothes and laid in the manger. She was away from home; shewas not even in a friend's house, nor yet in the inn; the Lord God hadmade ready a crib for the babe in the feeding-place of cattle. Whatgathering of friends could there be to rejoice over a childborn in this solitary place?

Yet there were some, friends of the child and of the child's mother, whowelcomed its birth with great rejoicing. It may be that when Mary waslaying Him upon His first hard earthly resting-place, there was, not faroff, such a sight as never before was seen on earth. On the hilly slopesabout Bethlehem were flocks of sheep that, day and night, cropped thegrass, watched by shepherds, just as, so long before, young David, in thesame place, had watched his father's sheep. These shepherds were devoutmen, who sang, we may easily believe, the songs which the shepherd Davidhad taught them; and now, in the night-time, on the quiet slopes, as theykept guard over their flocks, out of the darkness appeared a heavenlyvisitor: whence he came they knew not, but round about him was abrightness which they knew could be no other than the brightness of Hispresence which God cast about His messengers. Great fear fell uponthem--for who of mortals could stand before the heavenly beings? But theangel, quick to see their fear, spoke in words which were the words of menand fell in peaceful accents:--

"Fear not!" said he, "for see, I bring you glad tidings of a great joythat shall be to all the people. For there has been born to you, this veryday, a Saviour, who is the Holy Lord, born in the city of David; and thisshall be its sign to you: ye shall find a child wrapped inswaddling-clothes lying in a manger. "

And now, suddenly, before they could speak to the heavenly messenger, theysaw, not him alone, but the place full of the like heavenly beings. Amultitude was there; they came not as if from some distant place, but asangels that ever stood round these shepherds. The eyes of the men wereopened, and they saw, besides the grassy slopes and feeding sheep, anddistant Bethlehem, and the stars above, a host of angels. Their ears wereopened, and besides the moving sheep and rustling boughs, they heard fromthis great army of heavenly beings a song, rising to God and falling likea blessing upon the sleeping world:--

"Glory to God in the highest And on earth peace, Good will to men. "

In the lowly manger, a little child; on the hillside pasture, a heavenlyhost singing His praises! Then it was once more quiet, and the darknesswas about the shepherds. They looked at one another and said, --"Let us go, indeed, to Bethlehem, to see this thing that has come to pass, which theLord hath made us know. "

So, in all haste, with the sound of that hymn of glory in their ears, theyleft the pasture and sought the town. They went to the inn, but theylooked not there for the child; where the mangers were, there they soughtHim, and found Him lying, and by Him Joseph and Mary. There were others bythe new-born child, some who had doubtless come out from the inn athearing of the birth. "Whence are these shepherds?" they might have saidto themselves, "and what has brought them to this birthplace?"

To all by the manger, the shepherds, their minds full of the strange sightthey had witnessed, recount the marvel. They tell how one appeared withsuch brightness about him as in old times they had heard gave witness thatthe Lord God would speak to His people; how their fear at his presence wasquieted by his strange and joyful words; and how, when he had said, "Yeshall find a child wrapped in swaddling-clothes, lying in a manger, " theysuddenly were aware of a host of angels round about them sounding praise, to which God also listened. 

Those to whom they told these things were amazed indeed at thestrangeness. What did the marvel mean, they wondered. They couldknow no more than the shepherds had told them, and as for these men, theywent away to their flocks again, praising God, for now they too, had seenthe child, and it was all true, and with their human voice they caught upthe song of rejoicing which had fallen from angelic lips. 

There was one who heard it all, and we may think did not say much or askmuch, but laid it away in her heart. It was Mary, and she had, in thetreasure-house where she put away this wonder, other thoughts andrecollections in company with it. There, in her inmost heart, she kept theremembrance of a heavenly visitor who had appeared to her when she wasalone, and had quieted her fear by words that told her of this comingbirth, and filled her soul with the thought that He whom she should bearwas to have the long-deserted throne and a kingdom without end. Sheremembered how, when she visited her cousin Elizabeth, she was greetedwith a psalm of rejoicing that sprang to the lips of that holy woman, andfrom her own heart had come a psalm of response. 

And now the child was born--born in the place of David, yet born to belaid in a manger. A name had been given it by the angel, and she calledthe child Jesus; for Jesus means Saviour, and "He shall, " said the angel, "save His people from their sins. "

AS JOSEPH WAS A-WALKING

OLD ENGLISH CAROL

As Joseph was a-walking He heard an angel sing:--"This night there shall be born Our heavenly King. 

"He neither shall be born In housen, nor in hall, Nor in the place of Paradise, But in an ox's stall. 

"He neither shall be clothèd In purple nor in pall;But in the fair, white linen, That usen babies all. 

"He neither shall be rockèd In silver nor in gold, But in a wooden cradle That rocks on the mould. 

"He neither shall be christened In white wine nor in red, But with fair spring water With which we were christened. "

Mary took her baby, She dressed Him so sweet, She laid Him in a manger, All there for to sleep. 

As she stood over Him She heard angels sing, "O bless our dear Saviour, Our heavenly King. "

THE PEACEFUL NIGHT

JOHN MILTON

But peaceful was the nightWherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began. The winds with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kist, Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean, --Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. 

The stars, with deep amaze, Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, Bending one way their precious influence;And will not take their flight, For all the morning light, Or Lucifer that often warned them thence;But in their glimmering orbs did glow, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. 

And, though the shady gloomHad given day her room, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame The new-enlightened world no more should need:He saw a greater Sun appearThan his bright throne or burning axletree could bear. 

THE CHRISTMAS SILENCE

MARGARET DELAND

Hushed are the pigeons cooing low On dusty rafters of the loft; And mild-eyed oxen, breathing soft, Sleep on the fragrant hay below. 

Dim shadows in the corner hide; The glimmering lantern's rays are shed Where one young lamb just lifts his head, Then huddles 'gainst his mother's side. 

Strange silence tingles in the air; Through the half-open door a bar Of light from one low-hanging starTouches a baby's radiant hair. 

No sound: the mother, kneeling, lays Her cheek against the little face. Oh human love! Oh heavenly grace!'Tis yet in silence that she prays!

Ages of silence end to-night; Then to the long-expectant earth Glad angels come to greet His birthIn burst of music, love, and light!

NEIGHBORS OF THE CHRIST NIGHT

NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH

Deep in the shelter of the cave, The ass with drooping headStood weary in the shadow, where His master's hand had led. About the manger oxen lay, Bending a wide-eyed gazeUpon the little new-born Babe, Half worship, half amaze. High in the roof the doves were set, And cooed there, soft and mild, Yet not so sweet as, in the hay, The Mother to her Child. The gentle cows breathed fragrant breath To keep Babe Jesus warm, While loud and clear, o'er hill and dale, The cocks crowed, "Christ is born!"Out in the fields, beneath the stars, The young lambs sleeping lay, And dreamed that in the manger slept Another, white as they. 

These were Thy neighbors, Christmas Child; To Thee their love was given, For in Thy baby face there shone The wonder-light of Heaven. 

CHRISTMAS CAROL

FROM THE NEAPOLITAN

When Christ was born in Bethlehem, 'T was night, but seemed the noon of day; The stars, whose light Was pure and bright, Shone with unwavering ray;But one, one glorious starGuided the Eastern Magi from afar. 

Then peace was spread throughout the land;The lion fed beside the tender lamb; And with the kid, To pasture led, The spotted leopard fed;In peace, the calf and bear, The wolf and lamb reposed together there. 

As shepherds watched their flocks by night, An angel, brighter than the sun's own light, Appeared in air, And gently said, Fear not, --be not afraid, For lo! beneath your eyes, Earth has become a smiling paradise. 

A CHRISTMAS HYMN

RICHARD WATSON GILDER

Tell me what is this innumerable throngSinging in the heavens a loud angelic song?These are they who come with swift and shining feetFrom round about the throne of God the Lord of Light to greet. 

Oh, who are these that hasten beneath the starry sky, As if with joyful tidings that through the world shall fly?The faithful shepherds these, who greatly were afearedWhen, as they watched their flocks by night, the heavenly host appeared. 

Who are these that follow across the hills of nightA star that westward hurries along the fields of light?

Three wise men from the east who myrrh and treasure bringTo lay them at the feet of him their Lord and Christ and King. 

What babe new-born is this that in a manger cries?Near on her lowly bed his happy mother lies. Oh, see the air is shaken with white and heavenly wings--This is the Lord of all the earth, this is the King of kings. 

THE SONG OF A SHEPHERD--BOY AT BETHLEHEM

JOSEPHINE PRESTON PEABODY

Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary: Rest Thee now. Though these hands be rough from shearing And the plough, Yet they shall not ever fail Thee, When the waiting nations hail Thee, Bringing palms unto their King. Now--I sing. 

Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary, Hope divine. If Thou wilt but smile upon me, I will twineBlossoms for Thy garlanding. Thou'rt so little to be King, God's Desire! Not a brierShall be left to grieve Thy brow; Rest Thee now. 

Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary. Some fair dayWilt Thou, as Thou wert a brother, Come awayOver hills and over hollow?All the lambs will up and follow, Follow but for love of Thee. Lov'st Thou me?

Sleep, Thou little Child of Mary; Rest Thee now. I that watch am come from sheep-stead And from plough. Thou wilt have disdain of meWhen Thou'rt lifted, royally, Very high for all to see: Smilest Thou?

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS ROSES

ADAPTED FROM AN OLD LEGEND

The sun had dropped below the western hills of Judea, and the stillness ofnight had covered the earth. The heavens were illumined only by numberlessstars, which shone the brighter for the darkness of the sky. No sound washeard but the occasional howl of a jackal or the bleat of a lamb in thesheepfold. Inside a tent on the hillside slept the shepherd, Berachah, andhis daughter, Madelon. The little girl lay restless, --sleeping, waking, dreaming, until at last she roused herself and looked about her. 

"Father, " she whispered, "oh, my father, awake. I fear for the sheep. "

The shepherd turned himself and reached for his staff. "What nearest thou, daughter! The dogs are asleep. Hast thou been burdened by an evil dream?"

"Nay, but father, " she answered, "seest thou not the light? Hearest thounot the voice?"

Berachah gathered his mantle about him, rose, looked over the hills towardBethlehem, and listened. The olive trees on yonder slope were castingtheir shadows in a marvellous light, unlike daybreak or sunset, or eventhe light of the moon. By the camp-fire below on the hillside theshepherds on watch were rousing themselves. Berachah waited and wondered, while Madelon clung to his side. Suddenly a sound rang out in thestillness. Madelon pressed still closer. 

"It is the voice of an angel, my daughter. What it means I know not. Neither understand I this light. " Berachah fell on his knees and prayed. 

"Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shallbe to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David aSaviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Yeshall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. "

The voice of the angel died away, and the air was filled with music. Berachah raised Madelon to her feet. "Ah, daughter, " said he, "It is thewonder night so long expected. To us hath it been given to see the sign. It is the Messiah who hath come, the Messiah, whose name shall be calledWonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Princeof Peace. He it is who shall reign on the throne of David, he it is whoshall redeem Israel. "

Slowly up the hillside toiled the shepherds to the tent of Berachah, theirchief, who rose to greet them eagerly. 

"What think you of the wonder night and of the sign?" he queried. "Are wenot above all others honored, thus to learn of the Messiah's coming!"

"Yea, and Berachah, " replied their spokesman, Simon, "believest thou notthat we should worship the infant King! Let us now go to Bethlehem, andsee this thing which has come to pass. "

A murmur of protest came from the edge of the circle, and one or twoturned impatiently away, whispering of duty toward flocks, and the follyof searching for a new-born baby in the city of Bethlehem. Hardheaded, practical men were these, whose hearts had not been touched by vision orby song. 

The others, however, turned expectantly toward Berachah, awaiting hisdecision. "Truly, " said Jude, "the angel of the Lord hath given us thesign in order that we might go to worship Him. How can we then dootherwise? We shall find Him, as we have heard, lying in a manger. Let usnot tarry, but let us gather our choicest treasures to lay at His feet, and set out without delay across the hills toward Bethlehem. "

"Oh, my father, " whispered Madelon, "permit me to go with thee. " Berachahdid not hear her, but turned and bade the men gather together their gifts. 

"I, too, father?" asked Madelon. Still Berachah said nothing. Madelonslipped back into the tent, and throwing her arms around Melampo, hershepherd dog, whispered in his ear. 

Soon the shepherds returned with their gifts. Simple treasures theywere, --a pair of doves, a fine wool blanket, some eggs, some honey, somelate autumn fruits. Berachah had searched for the finest of his flock, --asnow-white lamb. Across the hills toward Bethlehem in the quiet, star-litnight they journeyed. As they moved silently along, the snow beneath theirfeet was changed to grass and flowers, and the icicles which had droppedfrom the trees covered their pathway like stars in the Milky Way. 

Following at a distance, yet close enough to see them, came Madelon withMelampo at her heels. Over the hills they travelled on until Madelon lostsight of their own hillside. Farther and farther the shepherds went untilthey passed David's well, and entered the city. Berachah led the way. 

"How shall we know?" whispered Simon. And the others answered, "Hush, wemust await the sign. "

When at last they had compassed the crescent of Bethlehem's hills, theyhalted by an open doorway at a signal from their leader. "The manger, "they joyfully murmured, "the manger! We have found the new-born King!"

One by one the shepherds entered. One by one they fell on their knees. Away in the shadow stood the little girl, her hand on Melampo's head. Inwonder she gazed while the shepherds presented their gifts, and werepermitted each to hold for a moment the newborn Saviour. 

Melampo, the shepherd dog, crouched on the ground, as if he too, like theox and the ass within, would worship the Child. Madelon turned toward thedarkness weeping. Then, lifting her face to heaven, she prayed that Godwould bless Mother and Baby. Melampo moved closer to her, dumbly offeringhis companionship, and, raising his head, seemed to join in her petition. Once more she looked at the worshipping circle. 

"Alas, " she grieved, "no gift have I for the infant Saviour. Would that Ihad but a flower to place in His hand. "

Suddenly Melampo stirred by her side, and as she turned again from themanger she saw before her an angel, the light from whose face illuminedthe darkness, and whose look of tenderness rested on her tear-stainedeyes. 

"Why grievest thou, maiden?" asked the angel. 

"That I come empty-handed to the cradle of the Saviour, that I bring nogift to greet Him, " she murmured. 

"The gift of thine heart, that is the best of all, " answered the angel. "But that thou mayst carry something to the manger, see, I will strikewith my staff upon the ground. "

Wonderingly Madelon waited. From the dry earth wherever the angel's staffhad touched sprang fair, white roses. Timidly she stretched out her handtoward the nearest ones. In the light of the angel's smile she gatheredthem, until her arms were filled with flowers. Again she turned toward themanger, and quietly slipped to the circle of kneeling shepherds. 

Closer she crept to the Child, longing, yet fearing, to offer her gift. 

"How shall I know, " she pondered, "whether He will receive this my gift asHis own?"

Berachah gazed in amazement at Madelon and the roses which she held. Howcame his child there, his child whom he had left safe on the hillside? Andwhence came such flowers! Truly this was a wonder night. 

Step by step she neared the manger, knelt, and placed a rose in the Baby'shand. As the shepherds watched in silence, Mary bent over her Child, andMadelon waited for a sign. "Will He accept them?" she questioned. "How, oh, how shall I know?" As she prayed in humble silence, the Baby's eyesopened slowly, and over His face spread a smile. 

THE LITTLE GRAY LAMB

ARCHIBALD BERESFORD SULLIVAN

Out on the endless purple hills, deep in the clasp of somber night, The shepherds guarded their weary ones-- guarded their flocks of cloudy white, That like a snowdrift in silence lay, Save one little lamb with its fleece of gray. 

Out on the hillside all alone, gazing afar with sleepless eyes, The little gray lamb prayed soft and low, its weary face to the starry skies:"O moon of the heavens so fair, so bright, Give me--oh, give me--a fleece of white!"

No answer came from the dome of blue, nor comfort lurked in the cypress-trees;But faint came a whisper borne along on the scented wings of the passing breeze:"Little gray lamb that prays this night, I cannot give thee a fleece of white. "

Then the little gray lamb of the sleepless eyes prayed to the clouds for a coat of snow, Asked of the roses, besought the woods; but each gave answer sad and low: "Little gray lamb that prays this night, We cannot give thee a fleece of white. "

Like a gem unlocked from a casket dark, like an ocean pearl from its bed of blue, Came, softly stealing the clouds between, a wonderful star which brighter grew Until it flamed like the sun by day Over the place where Jesus lay. 

Ere hushed were the angels' notes of praise the joyful shepherds had quickly spedPast rock and shadow, adown the hill, to kneel at the Saviour's lowly bed; While, like the spirits of phantom night, Followed their flocks--their flocks of white. 

And patiently, longingly, out of the night, apart from the others, --far apart, --Came limping and sorrowful, all alone, the little gray lamb of the weary heart, Murmuring, "I must bide far away: I am not worthy--my fleece is gray. "

And the Christ Child looked upon humbled pride, at kings bent low on the earthen floor, But gazed beyond at the saddened heart of the little gray lamb at the open door;And he called it up to his manger low and laid his hand on its wrinkled face, While the kings drew golden robes aside to give to the weary one a place. And the fleece of the little gray lamb was blest: For, lo! it was whiter than all the rest!

 * * * * *

In many cathedrals grand and dim, whose windows glimmer with pane and lens, Mid the odor of incense raised in prayer, hallowed about with last amens, The infant Saviour is pictured fair, with kneeling Magi wise and old, But his baby-hand rests--not on the gifts, the myrrh, the frankincense, the gold-- But on the head, with a heavenly light, Of the little gray lamb that was changed to white. 

THE HOLY NIGHT

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem;The dumb kine from their fodder turning them, Softened their horned faces To almost human gazes Toward the newly Born:The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks Brought visionary looks, As yet in their astonied hearing rung The strange sweet angel-tongue:The magi of the East, in sandals worn, Knelt reverent, sweeping round, With long pale beards, their gifts upon the ground, The incense, myrrh, and goldThese baby hands were impotent to hold:So let all earthlies and celestials wait Upon thy royal state. Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!

THE STAR BEARER

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN

There were seven angels erst that spanned Heaven's roadway out through space, Lighting with stars, by God's command, The fringe of that high placeWhence plumèd beings in their joy, The servitors His thoughts employ, Fly ceaselessly. No goodlier band Looked upward to His face. 

There, on bright hovering wings that tire Never, they rested mute, Nor of far journeys had desire, Nor of the deathless fruit;For in and through each angel soulAll waves of life and knowledge roll, Even as to nadir streamed the fire Of their torches resolute. 

They lighted Michael's outpost through Where fly the armored brood, And the wintry Earth their omens knew Of Spring's beatitude;Rude folk, ere yet the promise came, Gave to their orbs a heathen name, Saying how steadfast in men's view The watchful Pleiads stood. 

All in the solstice of the year, When the sun apace must turn, The seven bright angels 'gan to hear Heaven's twin gates outward yearn:Forth with its light and minstrelsyA lordly troop came speeding by, And joyed to see each cresset sphere So gloriously burn. 

Staying his fearless passage then The Captain of that hostSpake with strong voice: "We bear to men God's gift the uttermost, Whereof the oracle and signSibyl and sages may divine: A star shall blazon in their ken, Borne with us from your post. 

"This night the Heir of Heaven's throne A new-born mortal lies!Since Earth's first morning hath not shone Such joy in seraph eyes. "He spake. The least in honor thereAnswered with longing like a prayer, -- "My star, albeit thenceforth unknown, Shall light for you Earth's skies. "

Onward the blessed legion swept, That angel at the head;(Where seven of old their station kept There are six that shine instead. )Straight hitherward came troop and star;Like some celestial bird afar Into Earth's night the cohort leapt With beauteous wings outspread. 

Dazzling the East beneath it there, The Star gave out its rays:Right through the still Judean air The shepherds see it blaze, --They see the plume-borne heavenly throng, And hear a burst of that high song Of which in Paradise aware Saints count their years but days. 

For they sang such music as, I deem, In God's chief court of joys, Had stayed the flow of the crystal stream And made souls in mid-flight poise;They sang of Glory to Him most High, Of Peace on Earth abidingly, And of all delights the which, men dream, Nor sin nor grief alloys. 

Breathless the kneeling shepherds heard, Charmed from their first rude fear, Nor while that music dwelt had stirred Were it a month or year:And Mary Mother drank its flow, Couched with her Babe divine, --and, lo! Ere falls the last ecstatic word Three Holy Kings draw near. 

Whenas the star-led shining train Wheeled from their task complete, Skyward from over Bethlehem's plain They sped with rapture fleet;And the angel of that orient star, Thenceforth where Heaven's lordliest are, Stands with a harp, while Christ doth reign, A seraph near His feet. 

THE VISIT OF THE WISE MEN

ST. MATTHEW, II, 1-12

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod theking, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen hisstar in the east, and are come to worship him. 

When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and allJerusalem with him. 

And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the peopletogether, he demanded of them where Christ should be born. 

And they said unto him, In Bethlehem of Judaea: for thus it is written bythe prophet, And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, art not the least among theprinces of Judah: for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rulemy people Israel. 

Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, inquired of themdiligently what time the star appeared. 

And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for theyoung child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I maycome and worship him also. 

When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which theysaw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where theyoung child was. 

When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. 

And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Maryhis mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had openedtheir treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. 

And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way. 

THE THREE KINGS

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

Three Kings came riding from far away, Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;Three Wise Men out of the East were they, And they travelled by night and they slept by day, For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star. 

The star was so beautiful, large, and clear, That all the other stars of the skyBecame a white mist in the atmosphere, And by this they knew that the coming was near Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy. 

Three caskets they bore on their saddle-bows, Three caskets of gold with golden keys;Their robes were of crimson silk with rowsOf bells and pomegranates and furbelows, Their turbans like blossoming almond-trees. 

And so the Three Kings rode into the West, Through the dusk of night, over hill and dell, And sometimes they nodded with beard on breast, And sometimes talked, as they paused to rest, With the people they met at some wayside well. 

"Of the child that is born, " said Baltasar, "Good people, I pray you, tell us the news;For we in the East have seen his star, And have ridden fast, and have ridden far, To find and worship the King of the Jews. "

And the people answered, "You ask in vain; We know of no king but Herod the Great!"They thought the Wise Men were men insane, As they spurred their horses across the plain, Like riders in haste, and who cannot wait. 

And when they came to Jerusalem, Herod the Great, who had heard this thing, Sent for the Wise Men and questioned them;And said, "Go down unto Bethlehem, And bring me tidings of this new king. "

So they rode away; and the star stood still, The only one in the gray of morn;Yes, it stopped, --it stood still of its own free will, Right over Bethlehem on the hill, The city of David, where Christ was born. 

And the Three Kings rode through the gate and the guard, Through the silent street, till their horses turnedAnd neighed as they entered the great inn-yard;But the windows were closed, and the doors were barred, And only a light in the stable burned. 

And cradled there in the scented hay, In the air made sweet by the breath of kine, The little child in the manger lay, The child, that would be king one day Of a kingdom not human but divine. 

His mother Mary of Nazareth Sat watching beside his place of rest, Watching the even flow of his breath, For the joy of life and the terror of death Were mingled together in her breast. 

They laid their offerings at his feet: The gold was their tribute to a King, The frankincense, with its odor sweet, Was for the Priest, the Paraclete, The myrrh for the body's burying. 

And the mother wondered and bowed her head, And sat as still as a statue of stone;Her heart was troubled yet comforted, Remembering what the Angel had said Of an endless reign and of David's throne. 

Then the Kings rode out of the city gate, With a clatter of hoofs in proud array;But they went not back to Herod the Great, For they knew his malice and feared his hate, And returned to their homes by another way. 

THE THREE HOLY KINGS

ADAPTED FROM THE GOLDEN LEGEND, AND OTHERSOURCES

In a far country, in the days before Jesus was born in Judea, there weregreat astrologers who studied the heavens by night and by day, for theyknew of the prophecy which said that a star shall be born or spring out ofJacob, and a man shall arise of the lineage of Israel. And twelve of themwere chosen to take heed, who every year ascended upon a mountain whichwas called the Hill of Victory. Three days they abode there, and prayedour Lord that He would show to them the star that Balaam had said andprophesied. 

Now it happened on a time, that they were there on the day of the Nativityof Jesus Christ, and a star came over them upon this mountain, which hadthe form of a right fair child, and under his head was a shining cross, and from this cross came a voice saying: "To-day is there born a King inJudea. "

Now in Arabia, the land in which the soil is red with gold, there reigneda king called Melchior. And in Saba, where frankincense flows from thetrees, the king Balthasar ruled. And in the land where myrrh hangs fromthe bushes, the kingdom of Tharsis, reigned a third king, called Caspar. These three kings also saw the star and heard the voice, and they eachmade ready to go on a journey. And no one of the three knew that theothers intended thus to make a pilgrimage. And they gathered togethertheir treasures to present to the king whom they should seek, and summonedthose who should attend them. So each set out with a great company andgreat estate. And as they journeyed they found the mountains made level asthe plains, while the swollen rivers became as dry land. And never didthey lose sight of the star, which shined upon them as the sun, alwaysmoving before them to guide them on their way. 

But when they were come within two miles of Jerusalem, the stardisappeared, a heavy fog arose, and each party halted; Melchior, as itfell out, taking his stand on Mount Calvary, Balthasar on the Mount ofOlives, and Caspar just between them. And when the fog cleared away, eachwas astonished to see two other great companies besides his own, and thenthe kings first discovered that all had come upon the same errand, andthey embraced with great joy, and rode together into Jerusalem. 

And when they came into the city, Herod and all the people were troubled, because of their so great company like unto an army. Then they demanded inwhat place the King of the Jews was born, for, said they, "We have seenHis star in the Orient, and therefore we come to worship Him. " And whenHerod had heard this, he was much troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. Then Herod called all the priests of the law, and the doctors, anddemanded of them where Jesus Christ should be born. And when he hadunderstood them that He should be born in Bethlehem, he called the threekings apart and demanded of them diligently the time that the starappeared to them. And he said to them that as soon as they should havefound the Child and have worshipped Him, that they should return and showit to him, feigning that he would worship Him also, though he thought thathe would go to slay Him. 

And as soon as the kings were entered into Jerusalem, the sight of thestar was taken from them. But when they were issued out of the city, thestar appeared again and went before them, until it came above the place inBethlehem where the Child was. And they had journeyed now full thirteendays. 

And when they had entered into the place they worshipped the young Child, and Mary, His mother. Now the kings had brought great treasures with them, for it must be known that all that Alexander the Great left at his death, and all that the Queen of Sheba gave to King Solomon, and all that Solomoncollected for the temple, had descended to the three kings from theirancestors; and all this they had now brought with them. But when they hadbowed down before the Child, they were filled with fear and amazementbecause of the so great light which was in the place. And they eachoffered quickly the first thing that came to their hands, and forgot alltheir other gifts. Melchior offered thirty golden pennies, Balthasar gavefrankincense, and Caspar myrrh; but all else they quite forgot, and onlyremembered that they bowed before the Child, and said "Thanks be to God. "

And when they would have stayed to do honor to the Holy Child, an angelcame to them in a dream, to warn them against Herod, who would do themharm. So they departed each to his own country, journeying for two years. And they preached unto the people, telling them of the new-born King, andeverywhere upon the temples men placed the figures of a star, the Child, and a cross. 

Now it happened years later that St. Thomas the Apostle journeyed to thefar country to preach, and that he wondered why the star was placed uponthe temples. Then the priests in those temples told him about the threekings and how they had journeyed to Bethlehem and had seen the youngChild. 

And the three kings were very old and feeble, but when they heard aboutSt. Thomas, each set out from his own place to go to meet him. And whenthey had come together they builded them a city, and lived together therefor two years, worshipping God and preaching. Then Melchior died, and wasburied in a large and costly tomb. And when Balthasar died, he, too, wasburied there. And at last Caspar was placed beside his companions. 

Now in the days of Constantine the Great, his mother Helena determined tofind the bodies of the three kings, and for this she made a journey to thefar country. And when she had found them, she brought them toConstantinople to the Church of St. Sophia, where they were held in muchhonor. And from Constantinople they were taken to Milan, where again manypilgrims came. Now when Frederick Barbarossa laid siege to the city ofMilan, he rejoiced above all else to find them there. And by him they weretaken to Cologne, and there a golden shrine was built in which the bonesof the three holy kings were placed that there they might remain until theJudgment day. 

THE THREE KINGS OF COLOGNE

EUGENE FIELD

From out Cologne there came three kings To worship Jesus Christ, their King. To Him they sought fine herbs they brought, And many a beauteous golden thing; They brought their gifts to Bethlehem town, And in that manger set them down. 

Then spake the first king, and he said: "O Child, most heavenly, bright, and fair!I bring this crown to Bethlehem town. For Thee, and only Thee, to wear; So give a heavenly crown to me When I shall come at last to Thee!"

The second, then. "I bring Thee here This royal robe, O Child!" he cried;"Of silk 'tis spun, and such an one There is not in the world beside;So in the day of doom requiteMe with a heavenly robe of white!"

The third king gave his gift, and quoth: "Spikenard and myrrh to Thee I bring, And with these twain would I most fain Anoint the body of my King; So may their incense sometime rise To plead for me in yonder skies!"

Thus spake the three kings of Cologne, That gave their gifts and went their way;And now kneel I in prayer hard by The cradle of the Child to-day; Nor crown, nor robe, nor spice I bring As offering unto Christ, my King. 

Yet have I brought a gift the Child May not despise, however small;For here I lay my heart to-day, And it is full of love to all. Take Thou the poor but loyal thing, My only tribute, Christ, my King!

BABOUSCKA

ADELAIDE SKEEL

If you were a Russian child you would not watch to see Santa Klaus comedown the chimney; but you would stand by the windows to catch a peep atpoor Babouscka as she hurries by. 

Who is Babouscka? Is she Santa Klaus' wife?

No, indeed. She is only a poor little crooked wrinkled old woman, whocomes at Christmas time into everybody's house, who peeps into everycradle, turns back every coverlid, drops a tear on the baby's whitepillow, and goes away very sorrowful. 

And not only at Christmas time, but through all the cold winter, andespecially in March, when the wind blows loud, and whistles and howls anddies away like a sigh, the Russian children hear the rustling step of theBabouscka. She is always in a hurry. One hears her running fast along thecrowded streets and over the quiet country fields. She seems to be out ofbreath and tired, yet she hurries on. 

Whom is she trying to overtake?

She scarcely looks at the little children as they press their rosy facesagainst the window pane and whisper to each other, "Is the Babousckalooking for us?"

No, she will not stop; only on Christmas eve will she come up-stairs intothe nursery and give each little one a present. You must not think sheleaves handsome gifts such as Santa Klaus brings for you. She does notbring bicycles to the boys or French dolls to the girls. She does not comein a gay little sleigh drawn by reindeer, but hobbling along on foot, andshe leans on a crutch. She has her old apron filled with candy and cheaptoys, and the children all love her dearly. They watch to see her come, and when one hears a rustling, he cries, "Lo! the Babouscka!" then allothers look, but one must turn one's head very quickly or she vanishes. Inever saw her myself. 

Best of all, she loves little babies, and often, when the tired motherssleep, she bends over their cradles, puts her brown, wrinkled face closedown to the pillow and looks very sharply. 

What is she looking for?

Ah, that you can't guess unless you know her sad story. 

Long, long ago, a great many yesterdays ago, the Babouscka, who was eventhen an old woman, was busy sweeping her little hut. She lived in thecoldest corner of cold Russia, and she lived alone in a lonely place wherefour wide roads met. These roads were at this time white with snow, for itwas winter time. In the summer, when the fields were full of flowers andthe air full of sunshine and singing birds, Babouscka's home did not seemso very quiet; but in the winter, with only the snow-flakes and the shysnow-birds and the loud wind for company, the little old woman felt verycheerless. But she was a busy old woman, and as it was already twilight, and her home but half swept, she felt in a great hurry to finish her workbefore bed-time. You must know the Babouscka was poor and could not affordto do her work by candle-light. Presently, down the widest and thelonesomest of the white roads, there appeared a long train of peoplecoming. They were walking slowly, and seemed to be asking each otherquestions as to which way they should take. As the procession came nearer, and finally stopped outside the little hut, Babouscka was frightened atthe splendor. There were Three Kings, with crowns on their heads, and thejewels on the Kings' breastplates sparkled like sunlight. Their heavy furcloaks were white with the falling snow-flakes, and the queer humpy camelson which they rode looked white as milk in the snow-storm. The harness onthe camels was decorated with gold, and plates of silver adorned thesaddles. The saddlecloths were of the richest Eastern stuffs, and all theservants had the dark eyes and hair of an Eastern people. 

The slaves carried heavy loads on their backs, and each of the Three Kingscarried a present. One carried a beautiful transparent jar, and in thefading light Babouscka could see in it a golden liquid which she knew fromits color must be myrrh. Another had in his hand a richly woven bag, andit seemed to be heavy, as indeed it was, for it was full of gold. Thethird had a stone vase in his hand, and from the rich perfume which filledthe snowy air, one could guess the vase to have been filled with incense. 

Babouscka was terribly frightened, so she hid herself in her hut, and letthe servants knock a long time at her door before she dared open it andanswer their questions as to the road they should take to a far-away town. You know she had never studied a geography lesson in her life, was old andstupid and scared. She knew the way across the fields to the nearestvillage, but she knew nothing else of all the wide world full of cities. The servants scolded, but the Three Kings spoke kindly to her, and askedher to accompany them on their journey that she might show them the way asfar as she knew it. They told her, in words so simple that she could notfail to understand, that they had seen a Star in the sky and werefollowing it to a little town where a young Child lay. The snow was in thesky now, and the Star was lost out of sight. 

"Who is the Child?" asked the old woman. 

"He is a King, and we go to worship him, " they answered. "These presentsof gold, frankincense and myrrh are for Him. When we find Him we will takethe crowns off our heads and lay them at His feet. Come with us, Babouscka!"

What do you suppose? Shouldn't you have thought the poor little womanwould have been glad to leave her desolate home on the plains to accompanythese Kings on their journey?

But the foolish woman shook her head. No, the night was dark andcheerless, and her little home was warm and cosy. She looked up into thesky, and the Star was nowhere to be seen. Besides, she wanted to put herhut in order--perhaps she would be ready to go to-morrow. But the ThreeKings could not wait; so when to-morrow's sun rose they were far ahead ontheir journey. It seemed like a dream to poor Babouscka, for even thetracks of the camels' feet were covered by the deep white snow. Everythingwas the same as usual; and to make sure that the night's visitors had notbeen a fancy, she found her old broom hanging on a peg behind the door, where she had put it when the servants knocked. 

Now that the sun was shining, and she remembered the glitter of the goldand the smell of the sweet gums and myrrh, she wished she had gone withthe travellers. 

And she thought a great deal about the little Baby the Three Kings hadgone to worship. She had no children of her own--nobody loved her--ah, ifshe had only gone! The more she brooded on the thought, the more miserableshe grew, till the very sight of her home became hateful to her. 

It is a dreadful feeling to realize that one has lost a chance ofhappiness. There is a feeling called remorse that can gnaw like a sharplittle tooth. Babouscka felt this little tooth cut into her heart everytime she remembered the visit of the Three Kings. 

After a while the thought of the Little Child became her first thought atwaking and her last at night. One day she shut the door of her houseforever, and set out on a long journey. She had no hope of overtaking theThree Kings, but she longed to find the Child, that she too might love andworship Him. She asked every one she met, and some people thought hercrazy, but others gave her kind answers. Have you perhaps guessed that theyoung Child whom the Three Kings sought was our Lord himself?

People told Babouscka how He was born in a manger, and many other thingswhich you children have learned long ago. These answers puzzled the olddame mightily. She had but one idea in her ignorant head. The Three Kingshad gone to seek a Baby. She would, if not too late, seek Him too. 

She forgot, I am sure, how many long years had gone by. She looked in vainfor the Christ-child in His manger-cradle. She spent all her littlesavings in toys and candy so as to make friends with little children, thatthey might not run away when she came hobbling into their nurseries. 

Now you know for whom she is sadly seeking when she pushes back thebed-curtains and bends down over each baby's pillow. Sometimes, when theold grandmother sits nodding by the fire, and the bigger children sleepin their beds, old Babouscka comes hobbling into the room, and whisperssoftly, "Is the young Child here?"

Ah, no; she has come too late, too late. But the little children know herand love her. Two thousand years ago she lost the chance of finding Him. Crooked, wrinkled, old, sick and sorry, she yet lives on, looking intoeach baby's face--always disappointed, always seeking. Will she find Himat last?

THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT

SELMA LAGERLÖF

Far away, in a desert in the East, there grew, many years ago, a palm thatwas very, very old, and very, very tall. No one passing through the desertcould help stopping to look at it, for it was much higher than otherpalms, and people said of it that it would surely grow to be higher thanthe Obelisks and Pyramids. 

This great palm, standing in its loneliness, and looking over the desert, one day saw something which caused its huge crown of leaves to wave to andfro with surprise on its slender stem. On the outskirts of the desert twolonely persons were wandering. They were still so far away that even acamel would have looked no larger than an ant at that distance, but theywere assuredly human beings, two who were strangers to the desert--for thepalm knew the people of the desert--a man and a woman, who had neitherguide, nor beasts of burden, nor tent, nor water-bag. 

"Verily, " said the palm to itself, "these two have come hither to die. "

The palm looked quickly around. 

"I am surprised, " it said, "that the lions have not already gone out toseize their prey. But I do not see a single one about. Nor do I see any ofthe robbers of the desert. But they are sure to come. 

"There awaits them a sevenfold death, " thought the palm. "The lions willdevour them, the serpents will sting them, thirst will consume them, thesand-storm will bury them, the robbers will kill them, the burning sunwill overcome them, fear will destroy them. "

The palm tried to think of something else; the fate of these two made itsad. But in the immeasurable desert around it there was not a single thingthat the palm had not known and gazed at for thousands of years. Nothingcould attract its attention. It was again obliged to think of the twowanderers. 

"By the drought and the wind!" said the palm, invoking the two greatestenemies of life, "what is the woman carrying on her arm? I believe thesemad people have a little child with them!"

The palm, which was long-sighted, as the aged generally are, saw aright. The woman carried in her arms a child, that had laid its head on herbreast and was sleeping. 

"The child has not even enough clothes on, " said the palm. "I see that themother has lifted up her skirt and thrown it over it. She has taken it outof its bed in great haste and hurried away with it. Now I understand:these people are fugitives. 

"But they are mad, all the same, " continued the palm. "If they have not anangel to protect them, they should rather have let their enemies do theirworst than have taken refuge in the desert. I can imagine how it has allhappened. The man is at work, the child sleeps in its cradle, the womanhas gone to fetch water. When she has gone a few steps from the door shesees the enemy approaching. She rushes in, seizes the child, calls to thehusband that he shall follow her, and runs away. Since then they havecontinued their flight the whole day; they have assuredly not rested asingle moment. Yes, so it has all happened; but I say all the same, if noangel protects them--

"They are in such fear that they do not feel either fatigue or othersufferings, but I read thirst in their eyes. I think I should know theface of a thirsty man. "

And when the palm began to think about thirst a fit of trembling wentthrough its high stem, and the innumerable fronds of its long leavescurled up as if held over a fire. 

"If I were a man, " it said, "I would never venture into the desert. He istruly brave who ventures here without having roots reaching down to theinexhaustible water-veins. There can be danger even for palms, even forsuch a palm as I. Could I advise them, I would beg them to return. Theirenemies could never be as cruel to them as the desert. They think perhapsthat it is easy to live in the desert. But I know that even I at timeshave had difficulty in keeping alive. I remember once in my youth when awhirlwind threw a whole mountain of sand over me I was nearly choking. IfI _could_ die I should have died then. "

The palm continued to think aloud, as lonely old people do. 

"I hear a wonderful melodious murmur passing through my crown, " it said;"all the fronds of my leaves must be moving. I do not know why the sightof these poor strangers moves me so. But this sorrowful woman is sobeautiful! It reminds me of the most wonderful thing that ever happened tome. "

And whilst its leaves continued their melodious rustle the palm rememberedhow once, long, long ago, a glorious human being had visited the oasis. Itwas the Queen of Sheba, accompanied by the wise King Solomon. Thebeautiful Queen was on her way back to her own country; the King hadaccompanied her part of the way, and now they were about to part. "Inmemory of this moment, " said the Queen, "I now plant a date-kernel in theearth; and I ordain that from it shall grow a palm which shall live andgrow until a King is born in Judaea greater than Solomon. " And as she saidthis she placed the kernel in the ground, and her tears watered it. 

"How can it be that I should just happen to think of this to-day?" saidthe palm. "Can it be possible that this woman is so beautiful that shereminds me of the most beautiful of all queens, of her at whose bidding Ihave lived and grown to this very day? I hear my leaves rustling strongerand stronger, " said the palm, "and it sounds sorrowful, like a death-song. It is as if they prophesied that someone should soon pass away. It is wellto know that it is not meant for me, inasmuch that I cannot die. "

The palm thought that the death-song in its leaves must be for the twolonely wanderers. They themselves surely thought that their last hour wasdrawing near. One could read it in their faces when they walked past oneof the skeletons of the camels that lay by the roadside. One saw it fromthe glances with which they watched a couple of vultures flying past. Itcould not be otherwise--they must perish. 

They had now discovered the palm in the oasis, and hastened thither tofind water. But when they at last reached it they sank down in despair, for the well was dried up. The woman, exhausted, laid down the child, andsat down crying by the side of the well. The man threw himself down by herside; he lay and beat the ground with his clenched hands. The palm heardthem say to each other that they must die. It also understood from theirconversation that King Herod had caused all children of two or threeyears of age to be killed from fear that the great expected King in Judaeahad been born. 

"It rustles stronger and stronger in my leaves, " said the palm. "Thesepoor fugitives have soon come to their last moment. "

It also heard that they were afraid of the desert. The man said it wouldhave been better to remain and fight the soldiers than to flee. He saidthat it would have been an easier death. 

"God will surely help us, " said the woman. 

"We are all alone amongst serpents and beasts of prey, " said the man. "Wehave no food and no water. How can God help us?"

He tore his clothes in despair and pressed his face against the earth. Hewas hopeless, like a man with a mortal wound in his heart. 

The woman sat upright, with her hands folded upon her knees. But theglances she cast over the desert spoke of unutterable despair. 

The palm heard the sorrowful rustling in its leaves grow still stronger. The woman had evidently heard it too, for she looked up to the crown ofthe tree, and in the same moment she involuntarily raised her arms. 

"Dates, dates!" she cried. 

There was such a longing in her voice, that the old palm wished it had notbeen any higher than the gorse, and that its dates had been as easy toreach as the red berries of the hawthorn. It knew that its crown was fullof clusters of dates, but how could man reach to such a dazzling height?

The man had already seen that, the dates being so high, it was impossibleto reach them. He did not even lift his head. He told his wife that shemust not wish for the impossible. 

But the child, which had crawled about alone and was playing with sticksand straws, heard the mother's exclamation. The little one could probablynot understand why his mother should not have everything she wished for. As soon as he heard the word "dates, " he began to look at the tree. Hewondered and pondered how he should get the dates. There came almostwrinkles on his forehead under the fair locks. At last a smile passed overhis face. Now he knew what he would do. He went to the palm, stroked itwith his little hand, and said in his gentle, childish voice:

"Bend down, palm. Bend down, palm. "

But what was this, what could this be? The palm-leaves rustled, as if ahurricane rushed through them, and shudder upon shudder passed through thetall stem. And the palm felt that the little one was the stronger. Itcould not resist him. 

And with its high stem it bowed down before the child, as men bow downbefore princes. In a mighty arch it lowered itself towards earth, and atlast bowed so low that its great crown of trembling leaves swept the sandof the desert. 

The child did not seem to be either frightened or surprised, but with ajoyous exclamation it ran and plucked one cluster after another from thecrown of the old palm. 

When the child had gathered enough, and the tree was still lying on theearth, he again went to it, stroked it, and said in his gentlest voice:

"Arise, palm, arise. "

And the great tree raised itself silently and obediently on its stem, whilst the leaves played like harps. 

"Now I know for whom they play the death-song, " the old palm said toitself, when it again stood erect. "It is not for any of these strangers. "

But the man and woman knelt down on their knees and praised God. 

"Thou hast seen our fear and taken it from us. Thou art the Mighty One, that bends the stem of the palm like a reed. Of whom should we be afraidwhen Thy strength protects us?"

Next time a caravan passed through the desert, one of the travellers sawthat the crown of the great palm had withered. 

"How can that have happened?" said the traveller. "Have we not heard thatthis palm should not die before it had seen a King greater than Solomon?"

"Perhaps it has seen Him, " answered another wanderer of the desert. 

THE HAUGHTY ASPEN

_A German Legend_

NORA ARCHIBALD SMITH

As I went through the tangled wood I heard the Aspen shiver. "What dost thou ail, sweet Aspen, say, Why do thy leaflets quiver?"

"'Twas long ago, " the Aspen sighed-- How long is past my knowing--"When Mary Mother rode adown This wood where I was growing. Blest Joseph journey'd by her side, Upon his good staff resting, And in her arms the Heav'nly Babe, Dove of the World, was nesting. Fair was the mother, shining-fair, A lily sweetly blowing;The Babe was but a lily-bud, Like to his mother showing. 

The birds began, 'Thy Master comes! Bow down, bow down before Him!'The date, the fig, the hazel tree, In rev'rence bent to adore Him. I only, out of all the host Of bird and tree and flower, --I, haughty, would not bow my head, Nor own my Master's power. 'Proud Aspen, ' quoth the Mother-Maid, 'Thy Lord, dost thou defy Him?When emperors worship at His shrine, Wilt courtesy deny Him?'I heard her voice; my heart was rent, My boughs began to shiver, And age on age, in punishment, My sorrowing leaflets quiver. "

Still in the dark and tangled wood, Still doth the Aspen quiver. The haughty tree doth bear a curse, Her leaflets aye must shiver. 

THE LITTLE MUD-SPARROWS

_Jewish Legend_

ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS

I like that old, kind legend Not found in Holy Writ, And wish that John or Matthew Had made Bible out of it. 

But though it is not Gospel, There is no law to holdThe heart from growing better That hears the story told:--

How the little Jewish 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. 

So, when these all were fashioned, And ranged in rows 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!"

But earthen were 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 leaned and whispered: "Fly up to Heaven! 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 have the Lord Christ still, And that still above our weakness He works His mighty will, That all our little playthings Of earthen hopes and joysShall be, by His commandment, Changed into heavenly toys. 

Our souls are like the sparrows Imprisoned in the clay, Bless Him who came to give them wings Upon a Christmas Day!

THE CHILDREN OF WIND AND THECLAN OF PEACE

FIONA MACLEOD

I will tell this Legend as simply but also with what beauty I can, becausethe words of the old Highland woman, who told it to me, ... Though simplewere beautiful with ancient idiom. 

We must go back near twenty hundred years.... It was in the last month ofthe last year of the seven years' silence and peace: the seventh year inthe mortal life of Jesus the Christ. It was on the twenty-fifth day ofthat month, the day of His holy birth. 

It was a still day. The little white flowers that were called Breaths ofHope and that we now call Stars of Bethlehem were so hushed in quiet thatthe shadows of moths lay on them like the dark motionless violet in thehearts of pansies. In the long swards of tender grass the multitude of thedaisies were white as milk faintly stained with flusht dews fallen fromroses. On the meadows of white poppies were long shadows blue as the bluelagoons of the sky among drifting snow-white moors of cloud. Three whiteaspens on the pastures were in a still sleep: their tremulous leaves madeno rustle, though there was a soundless wavering fall of little duskyshadows, as in the dark water of a pool where birches lean in the yellowhour of the frostfire. Upon the pastures were ewes and lambs sleeping, andyearling kids opened and closed their onyx eyes among the garths of whiteclover. 

It was the Sabbath, and Jesus walked alone. When He came to a little risein the grass He turned and looked back at the house where His parentsdwelled. Joseph sat on a bench, with bent shoulders, and was dreaming withfixt gaze into the west, as seamen stare across the interminable wave atthe pale green horizons that are like the grassy shores of home. Mary wasstanding, dressed in long white raiment, white as a lily, with her righthand shading her eyes as she looked to the east, dreaming her dream. 

The young Christ sighed, but with the love of all love in His heart. "Soshall it be till the day of days, " He said aloud; "even so shall thehearts of men dwell among shadows and glories, in the West of passingthings: even so shall that which is immortal turn to the East and watchfor the coming of Joy through the Gates of Life. "

At the sound of His voice He heard a sudden noise as of many birds, andturned and looked beyond the low upland where He stood. A pool of purewater lay in the hollow, fed by a ceaseless wellspring, and round it andover it circled birds whose breasts were grey as pearl and whose necksshone purple and grass-green and rose. The noise was of their wings, forthough the birds were beautiful they were voiceless and dumb as flowers. 

At the edge of the pool stood two figures, whom He knew to be of theangelic world because of their beauty, but who had on them the illusion ofmortality so that the child did not know them. But He saw that one wasbeautiful as Night, and one beautiful as Morning. 

He drew near. 

"I have lived seven years, " He said, "and I wish to send peace to the farends of the world. "

"Tell your secret to the birds, " said one. 

"Tell your secret to the birds, " said theother. 

So Jesus called to the birds. 

"Come, " He cried; and they came. 

Seven came flying from the left, from the side of the angel beautiful asNight. Seven came flying from the right, from the side of the angelbeautiful as Morning. 

To the first He said: "Look into my heart. "

But they wheeled about Him, and with newfound voices mocked, crying, "Howcould we see into your heart that is hidden" ... And mocked and derided, crying, "What is Peace! ... Leave us alone! Leave us alone!"

So Christ said to them:

"I know you for the birds of Ahriman, who is not beautiful but is Evil. Henceforth ye shall be black as night, and be children of the winds. "

To the seven other birds which circled about Him, voiceless, and brushingtheir wings against His arms, He cried:

"Look into my heart. "

And they swerved and hung before Him in a maze of wings, and looked intoHis pure heart: and, as they looked, a soft murmurous sound came fromthem, drowsy-sweet, full of peace: and as they hung there like a breath infrost they became white as snow. 

"Ye are the Doves of the Spirit, " said Christ, "and to you I will committhat which ye have seen. Henceforth shall your plumage be white and yourvoices be the voices of peace. "

The young Christ turned, for He heard Mary calling to the sheep and goats, and knew that dayset was come and that in the valleys the gloaming wasalready rising like smoke from the urns of the twilight. When He lookedback He saw by the pool neither the Son of Joy nor the Son of Sorrow, butseven white doves were in the cedar beyond the pool, cooing in low ecstasyof peace and awaiting through sleep and dreams the rose-red pathways ofthe dawn. Down the long grey reaches of the ebbing day He saw seven birdsrising and falling on the wind, black as black water in caves, black asthe darkness of night in old pathless woods. 

And that is how the first doves became white, and how the first crowsbecame black and were called by a name that means the clan of darkness, the children of the wind. 

THE CHILD JESUS IN THE GARDEN

AUTHOR UNKNOWN

Cold was the day, when in a garden bare, Walked the Child Jesus, wrapt in holy thought;His brow seemed clouded with a weight of care; Calmness and rest from worldly things he sought. 

Soon was his presence missed within his home; His mother gently marked his every way;Forth then she came to seek where he did roam. Full of sweet words his trouble to allay. 

Through chilling snow she toiled to reach his side, Forcing her way mid branches brown and sere, Hastening that she his sorrows might divide, Share all his woe, or calm his gloomy fear. 

Sweet was her face, as o'er his head she bent, Longing to melt his look of saddest grief. With lifted eyes, his ear to her he lent; Her kindly solace brought his soul relief. 

Then did he smile--a smile of love so deep, Winter himself grew warm beneath its glow;From drooping branches scented blossoms peep; Up springs the grass; the sealèd fountains flow. 

Summer and spring did with each other vie, Offering to Him the fragrance of their store;Chanting sweet notes, the birds around him fly, Wondering why earth had checkered so her floor. 

THE MYSTIC THORN

ADAPTED FROM TRADITIONAL SOURCES

"Three hawthornes also that groweth in WerallDo burge and bere grene leaves at ChristmasAs fresshe as other in May. "

It was Christmas day in the year 63. The autumn colors of red and gold hadlong since faded from the hills, and the trees which covered the islandvalley of Glastonbury, the Avalon or Apple-tree isle of the early Britons, were bare and leafless. The spreading, glass-like waters encircling itround about gleamed faintly in the pale afternoon light of the winter'sday. The light fell also on the silver stems of the willows and on thetall flags and bending reeds and osiers which bordered the marsh island. Westward the long ranges of hills running seaward were purple in thedistance and their tops were partly hidden by the misty white clouds whichrested lightly upon them. To the south rose sharply and abruptly a high, pointed hill, the tor of Glastonbury. 

It was nearing the sunset hour when a little band of men in pilgrim garb, approaching from the west and climbing the long, hilly ridge, came withinsight of this "isle of rest. " Twelve pilgrims there were in all, in dressand appearance very unlike the fair-haired Britons who at that time dweltin the land. One, he who led the way, was an old man. His hair was whiteand his long, white beard fell upon his breast, but he was tall and erectand bore no other signs of age. In his hand he carried a stout hawthornstaff. 

The men were climbing slowly up the hill, for they were all weary withlong travelling. And here at the summit of the ridge they stopped to lookout over the wooded hills, the wide-spreading waters and the grassy islandwith its leafless thickets of oak and alder. Sitting down to rest, theyspoke one to another of their long journeying from the far-distant land ofPalestine and of their hope that here their pilgrimage might have end. 

Those who were with him called their leader Joseph of Arimathea. He it waswho had been known among the Jews many years before as a counsellor, "agood man, and a just, " and who, when the Saviour was crucified on Calvary, had given his sepulchre to receive the body of the Lord. 

From this tomb upon the third day came the risen Saviour; but the people, thinking that Joseph had stolen away the body, seized and imprisoned himin a chamber where there was no window. They fastened the door and put aseal upon the lock and placed men before the door to guard it. Then thepriests and the Levites contrived to what death they should put him; butwhen they sent for Joseph to be brought forth he could not be found, though the seal was still upon the lock and the guard before the door. 

The disciples of Joseph as they gathered about their fire of an eveningoften told how, at night, as he prayed, the prison chamber had been filledwith a light brighter than that of the sun, and Jesus himself had appearedto him and had led him forth unharmed to his own house in Arimathea. 

And sometimes they told how, again imprisoned, he had been fed from theHoly Cup from which the Saviour had drunk at the "last sad supper with hisown" and in which Joseph had caught the blood of his Master when he was onthe cross, and how he had been blest with such heavenly visions that theyears passed and seemed to him as naught. 

Now after a certain time he had been released from prison; but there werepeople who still doubted him and so with his friends, Lazarus and MaryMagdalene and Philip and others, he had been driven away from Jerusalem. The small vessel, without oars, rudder or sail, in which they had beencast adrift on the Mediterranean, had come at last in safety to the coastof Gaul. And for many years since then had Joseph wandered through theland carrying ever with him two precious relics, the Holy Grail and "thatsame spear wherewith the Roman pierced the side of Christ. " Now at lastwith a chosen band of disciples he had reached the little-known island ofthe Britons. 

Landing from their little boat in the early morn on this unknown coast, they had knelt upon the shore while Joseph "gave blessing to the God ofheaven in a lowly chanted prayer. " Then, "over the brow of the seawardhill" they had passed, led by an invisible hand and singing as they went. All day through dark forests and over reedy swamps they had made their wayand now at nightfall, tired and wayworn, they rested on the ridgy hillwhich has ever since been known by the name of Wearyall. 

During the long day's march they had seen but few of the people of theland and these had held aloof. 

Now, suddenly, the silence was broken by loud cries and shouts, and groupsof the native Britons, wild and uncouth in appearance, their half-nakedbodies stained blue with woad, were seen coming from different directionsup the hill. They were armed with spears, hatchets of bronze, and otherrude weapons of olden warfare and, as they came rapidly nearer, theirthreatening aspect and menacing cries startled the pilgrim band. Risinghastily, as though they would flee, the men looked in terror, one towardanother. Joseph alone showed no trace of fear and, obedient to a sign fromhim, they all knelt in prayer upon the hillside. 

Then, thrusting his thorny staff into the ground beside him and raisingboth hands toward heaven, Joseph claimed possession of this new land inthe name of his Master, Christ. 

"'This staff hath borne me long and well, 'Then spake that saint divine, 'Over mountain and over plain, On quest of the Promise-sign;For aye let it stand in this western land, And God do no more to meIf there ring not out from this realm about, _Tibi gloria, Domine. _'"

His voice ceased and the men rose from their knees, looking expectantlyfor the heavenly sign, but ready, if need be, to meet with courage thethreatened attack. 

But stillness had again settled over the hill. Only a few rods distant theBritons had stopped and grouped closely together were gazing in awestrucksilence upon the dry and withered staff, which had so often aided Josephin his wanderings from the Holy Land. Following their gaze, Joseph and hiscompanions turned toward it and even as they did so, behold! A miracle!The staff took root and grew and, as they watched, they saw it put forthbranches and green leaves, fair buds and milk-white blossoms which filledthe air with their sweet odor. 

For a moment, awed and amazed, all stood silent. Wondrously had Joseph'sprayer been answered! This was indeed the heavenly token which had beenforetold! Then with tears of joy all cried out as with one voice, "Our Godis with us! Jesus is with us!"

Marvelling much at the strange things they had just seen and heard, theBritons dropped their weapons and fled in haste from the hill. 

Then did Joseph and his disciples go down across the marsh into the valleyand there they rested undisturbed. 

Word of the miracle which had thus been wrought on Wearyall Hill wasbrought soon to Arviragus, the heathen king of the time, and he welcomedgladly the holy men and gave them the beautiful vale of Avalon whereon tolive. There they built "a little lonely church, " with roof of rushes andwalls of woven twigs and "wattles from the marsh, " the first Christianchurch which had ever been built in Britain. 

There they dwelt for many years, serving God, fasting and praying, andthere Joseph taught the half-barbarous Britons, who gathered to listen tohim, the faith of Christ. 

 * * * * *

Time passed and the little, low, wattled church became a great andbeautiful abbey. Many pilgrims there were who came to worship at theshrine of St. Joseph; to drink from the holy well which sprang from thefoot of Chalice Hill where the Holy Cup lay buried; and to watch thebudding of the mystic thorn, which, year after year, when the snows ofChristmas covered the hills, put forth its holy blossoms, "a symbol ofGod's promise, care and love. "

Now long, long afterward there came a time when there was war in the landand one day a rough soldier who recked not of its heavenly origin cut downthe sacred tree. Only a flat stone now marks the place where it once stoodand where Joseph's staff burst into bloom. But there were other treeswhich had been grown from slips of the miraculous thorn and these, "mindful of our Lord" still keep the sacred birthday and blossom each yearon Christmas Day. 

THE BLOOMING OF THE WHITE THORN

EDITH MATILDA THOMAS

God shield ye, comrades of the road! And while our way we hold, List while I tell how it first befell In the wondrous days of old. 

 * * * * *

From off the sea, the pilgrims came, With sea-toil wracked and worn;The air blew keen, and the frost was sheen, Upon that wintry morn. 

Through Glastonbury street went they; And ever on, and on, Till they pass the well of the fairy spell, And the oak of Avalon. 

They hear the rustling leaves and few, That linger on the bough;But still they fare through the bitter air, And climb a hill-slope now. 

On Weary-All-Hill their feet they stay (Full well that Hill ye know);There may they rest, by toil oppressed, While round them drops the snow. 

And one--far gone in age was he-- As snow, his locks were white--The staff of thorn which he had borne, Did plant upon that height. 

A thorn-stick dry, that pilgrim staff, He set it in the ground:And, swift as sight, with blossoms white The branching staff was crowned!

Each year since then (if sooth men say) Upon this Blessed Morn, Who climbs that Hill, may see at will The flower upon the thorn!

Howe'er the wind may drive the sleet, That thorn will blooming be;And some have seen a fair Child lean From out that blossomed tree!

One moment only--then, apace, Both flower and leaf are shorn;And, gaunt and chill, on Weary-All-Hill, There stands an ancient thorn!

God shield ye, comrades of the road-- With grace your spirits fill, That ye may see the White-thorn tree A-bloom on Weary-All-Hill!

LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER

ADAPTED FROM THE GOLDEN LEGEND

There was a mighty man of old who dwelt in the land of Canaan. Large washe and tall of stature and stronger than any man whom the world had everseen. Therefore was he called Offero, or, "The Bearer. " Now he served theking of Canaan, but he was proud of his great strength and upon a time itcame in his mind that he would seek the greatest king who then reigned andhim only would he serve and obey. 

So he travelled from one country to another until at length he came to onewhere ruled a powerful king whose fame was great in all the land. 

"Thou art the conqueror of nations?" asked Offero. 

"I am, " replied the king. 

"Then take me into your service, for I will serve none but the mightiestof earth. "

"That then am I, " returned the king, "for truly I fear none. "

So the king received Offero into his service and made him to dwell in hiscourt. 

But once at eventide a minstrel sang before the king a merry song in whichhe named oft the evil one. And every time that the king heard the name ofSatan he grew pale and hastily made the sign of the cross upon hisforehead. Offero marvelled thereat and demanded of the king the meaning ofthe sign and wherefore he thus crossed himself. And because the king wouldnot tell him Offero said, "If thou tell me not, I shall no longer dwellwith thee. " Then the king answered, saying, "Always when I hear Satannamed, I fear that he may have power over me and therefore I make thissign that he harm me not. "

"Who is Satan?" asked Offero. 

"He is a wicked monarch, " replied the king, "wicked but powerful. "

"More powerful than thou art?"

"Aye, verily. "

"And fearest thou that he hurt thee?"

"That do I, and so do all. "

"Then, " cried Offero, "is he more mighty and greater than thou art. I willgo seek him. Henceforth he shall be my master for I would fain serve themightiest and the greatest lord of all the world. "

So Offero departed from the king and sought Satan. Everywhere he metpeople who had given themselves over to his rule and at last one day as hewas crossing a wide desert he saw a great company of knights approaching. One of them, mounted upon a great black horse, came to him and demandedwhither he went, and Offero made answer, "I seek Satan, for he is mighty, and I would fain serve him. "

Then returned the knight, "I am he whom thou seekest. "

When Offero heard these words he was right glad and took Satan to be hislord and master. 

This king was indeed powerful and a long time did Offero serve him, but itchanced one day as they were journeying together they came to a placewhere four roads met and in the midst of the space stood a little cross. As soon as Satan saw the cross he was afraid and turned quickly aside andfled toward the desert. Offero followed him marvelling much at the sight. And after, when they had come back to the highway they had left, heinquired of Satan why he was thus troubled and had gone so far out of hisway to avoid the cross. But Satan answered him not a word. 

Then Offero said to him, "If thou wilt not tell me, I shall depart fromthee straightway and shall serve thee no more. "

"Know then, " said Satan, "there was a man called Christ who suffered onthe cross and whenever I see his sign I am sore afraid and flee from it, lest he destroy me. "

"If then thou art afraid of his sign, " cried Offero, "he is greater andmore mighty than thou, and I see well that I have labored in vain, for Ihave not found the greatest lord of the world. I will serve thee nolonger. Go thy way alone, for I will go to seek Christ. "

And when he had long sought and demanded where he should find Him, he cameat length into a great desert where dwelt a hermit, a servant of theChrist. The hermit told him of the Master whom he was seeking and said tohim, "This king whom thou dost wish to serve is not an earthly ruler andhe requireth that thou oft fast and make many prayers. "

But Offero understood not the meaning of worship and prayer and heanswered, "Require of me some other thing and I shall do it, but I knownaught of this which thou requirest. "

Then the hermit said to him, "Knowest thou the river, a day's journey fromhere, where there is neither ford nor bridge and many perish and are lost?Thou art large and strong. Therefore go thou and dwell by this river andbear over all who desire to cross its waters. That is a service which willbe well pleasing to the Christ whom thou desirest to serve, and sometime, if I mistake not, he whom thou seekest will come to thee. "

Offero was right joyful at these words and answered, "This service may Iwell do. "

So he hastened to the river and upon its banks he built himself a littlehut of reeds. He bare a great pole in his hand to sustain him in the waterand many weary wayfarers did he help to cross the turbulent stream. So helived a long time, bearing over all manner of people without ceasing, andstill he saw nothing of the Christ. 

Now it happened one night that a storm was raging and the river was veryhigh. Tired with his labors, Offero had just flung himself down on hisrude bed to sleep when he heard the voice of a child which called him andsaid, "Offero, Offero, come out and bear me over. "

Offero arose and went out from his cabin, but in the darkness he could seeno one. And when he was again in the house, he heard the same voice and heran out again and found no one. A third time he heard the call and goingout once more into the storm, there upon the river bank he found a fairyoung child who besought him in pleading tones, "Wilt thou not carry meover the river this night, Offero?"

The strong man gently lifted the child on his shoulders, took his staffand stepped into the stream. And the water of the river arose and swelledmore and more and the child was heavy as lead. And alway as he wentfarther, higher and higher swelled the waters and the child more and morewaxed heavy, insomuch that he feared that they would both be drowned. Already his strength was nearly gone, but he thought of his Master whom hehad not yet seen, and staying his footsteps with his palm staff struggledwith all his might to reach the opposite shore. As at last he climbed thesteep bank, suddenly the storm ceased and the waters calmed. 

He set the child down upon the shore, saying, "Child, thou hast put me ingreat peril. Had I carried the whole world on my shoulders, the weight hadnot been greater. I might bear no greater burden. "

"Offero, " answered the child, "Marvel not, but rejoice; for thou hastborne not only all the world upon thee, but thou hast borne him thatcreated and made all the world upon thy shoulders. I am Christ the kingwhom thou servest in this work. And for a token, that thou mayst know whatI say to be the truth, set thy staff in the earth by thy house and thoushalt see in the morning that it shall bear flowers and fruit. " With thesewords the child vanished from Offero's sight. 

But Offero did even as he was bidden and set his staff in the earth andwhen he arose on the morrow, he found it like a palm-tree bearing flowersand leaves and clusters of dates. Then he knew that it was indeed Christwhom he had borne through the waters and he rejoiced that he had found hisMaster. From that day he served Christ faithfully and was no more calledOffero, but Christopher, the Christ bearer. 

ST. CHRISTOPHER OF THE GAEL

FIONA MACLEOD

Behind the wattle-woven houseNial the Mighty gently creptFrom out a screen of ashtree boughsTo where a captive white-robe slept. 

Lightly he moved, as though ashamed;To right and left he glanced his fears. Nial the Mighty was he namedThough but an untried youth in years--

But tall he was, as tall as he, White Dermid of the magic sword, Or Torcall of the Hebrid SeaOr great Cuhoolin of the Ford;

Strong as the strongest, too, he was:As Balor of the Evil Eye;As Fionn who kept the Ulster PassFrom dawn till blood-flusht sunset sky. 

Much had he pondered all that dayThe mystery of the men who diedOn crosses raised along the way, And perished singing side by side. 

Modred the chief had sailed the Moyle, Had reached Iona's guardless-shore, Had seized the monks when at their toilAnd carried northward, bound, a score. 

Some he had thrust into the deep, To see if magic fins would rise:Some from high rocks he forced to leap, To see wings fall from out the skies:

Some he had pinned upon tall spears, Some tossed on shields with brazen clang, To see if through their blood and tearsTheir god would hear the hymns they sang. 

But when his oarsmen flung their oars, And laughed to see across the foamThe glimmer of the highland shoresAnd smoke-wreaths of the hidden home, Modred was weary of his sport. All day he brooded as he strodeBetwixt the reef-encircled portAnd the oak-grove of the Sacred Road. 

At night he bade his warriors raiseSeven crosses where the foamswept strandLay still and white beyond the blazeOf the hundred camp-fires of the land. 

The women milked the late-come kye, The children raced in laughing glee;Like sheep from out the fold of the skyStars leapt and stared at earth and sea. 

At times a wild and plaintive airMade delicate music far away:A hill-fox barked before its lair:The white owl hawked its shadowy prey. 

But at the rising of the moonThe druids came from grove and glen, And to the chanting of a runeCrucified St. Columba's men. 

They died in silence side by side, But first they sang the evening hymn:By midnight all but one had died, At dawn he too was grey and grim. 

One monk alone had Modred kept, A youth with hair of golden-red, Who never once had sighed or wept, Not once had bowed his proud young head. 

Broken he lay, and bound with thongs. Thus had he seen his brothers tossLike crows transfixed upon great prongs, Till death crept up each silent cross. 

Night grew to dawn, to scarlet morn;Day waned to firelit, star-lit night:But still with eyes of passionate scornHe dared the worst of Modred's might. 

When from the wattle-woven houseNial the Mighty softly stepped, And peered beneath the ashtree boughsTo where he thought the white-robe slept, He heard the monk's words rise in prayer. He heard a hymn's ascending breath--"Christ, Son of God, to Thee I fareThis night upon the wings of death. "

Nial the Mighty crossed the space, He waited till the monk had ceased;Then, leaning o'er the foam-white face, He stared upon the dauntless priest. 

"Speak low, " he said, "and tell me this:Who is the king you hold so great?--Your eyes are dauntless flames of blissThough Modred taunts you with his hate:--

"This god or king, is He more strongThan Modred is? And does He sleepThat thus your death-in-life is long, And bonds your aching body keep?"

The monk's eyes stared in Nial's eyes:"Young giant with a child's white heart, I see a cross take shape and rise, And thou upon it nailèd art!"

Nial looked back: no cross he sawLooming from out the dreadful night:Yet all his soul was filled with awe, A thundercloud with heart of light. 

"Tell me thy name, " he said, "and whyThou waitest thus the druid knife, And carest not to live or die?Monk, hast thou little care of life?"

"Great care of that I have, " he said, And looked at Nial with eyes of fire:"My life begins when I am dead, There only is my heart's desire. "

Nial the Mighty sighed. "Thy wordsAre as the idle froth of foam, Or clashing of triumphant swordsWhen Modred brings the foray home. 

"My name is Nial: Nial the Strong:A lad in years, but as you seeMore great than heroes of old songOr any lordly men that be. 

"To Modred have I come from far, O'er many a hill and strath and stream. To be a mighty sword in war, And this because I dreamed a dream:

"My dream was that my strength so greatShould serve the greatest king there is:Modred the Pict thus all men rate, And so I sought this far-off Liss. 

"But if there be a greater yet, A king or god whom he doth fear, My service he shall no more get, My strength shall rust no longer here. "

The monk's face gladdened. "Go, now, go;To Modred go: he sitteth dumb, And broods on what he fain would know:And say, '_O King, the Cross is come_!'

"Then shall the king arise in wrath, And bid you go from out his sight, For if he meet you on his pathHe'll leave you stark and still and white. 

"Thus shall he show, great king and all, He fears the glorious Cross of Christ, And dreads to hear slain voices callFor vengeance on the sacrificed. 

"But, Nial, come not here again:Long before dawn my soul shall beBeyond the reach of any painThat Modred dreams to prove on me. 

"Go forth thyself at dawn, and say'This is Christ's holy natal morn, My king is He from forth this dayWhen He to save mankind was born':

"Go forth and seek a lonely placeWhere a great river fills the wild;There bide, and let thy strength be grace, And wait the Coming of a Child. 

"A wondrous thing shall then befall:And when thou seek'st if it be true, Green leaves along thy staff shall crawl, With, flowers of every lovely hue. "

The monk's face whitened, like sea-foam:Seaward he stared, and sighed "I go--Farewell--my Lord Christ calls me home!"Nial stooped and saw death's final throe. 

An hour before the dawn he roseAnd sought out Modred, brooding, dumb;"O King, " he said, "my bond I close, King Christ I seek: the Cross is come!"

Swift as a stag's leap from a heightKing Modred drew his dreadful sword:Then as a snow-wraith, silent, white, He stared and passed without a word. 

Before the flush of dawn was redA druid came to Nial the Great:"The doom of death hath Modred said, Yet fears this Christ's mysterious hate:

"So get you hence, you giant-thewed man:Go your own way: come not again:No more are you of Modred's clan:Go now, forthwith, lest you be slain. "

Nial went forth with gladsome face;No more of Modred's clan he was:"Now, now, " he cried, "Christ's trail I'll trace, And nowhere turn, and nowhere pause. "

He laughed to think how Modred fearedThe wrath of Christ, the monk's white king:"A greater than Modred hath appeared, To Him my sword and strength I bring. "

All day, all night, he walked afar:He saw the moon rise white and still:The evening and the morning star:The sunrise burn upon the hill. 

He heard the moaning of the seas, The vast sigh of the sunswept plain, The myriad surge of forest-trees;Saw dusk and night return again. 

At falling of the dusk he stoodUpon a wild and desert land:Dark fruit he gathered for his food, Drank water from his hollowed hand, Cut from an ash a mighty boughAnd trimmed and shaped it to the half:"Safe in the desert am I now, With sword, " he said, "and with this staff. "

The stars came out: Arcturus hungHis ice-blue fire far down the sky:The Great Bear through the darkness swung:The Seven Watchers rose on high. 

A great moon flooded all the west. Silence came out of earth and seaAnd lay upon the husht world's breast, And breathed mysteriously. 

Three hours Nial walked, three hours and more:Then halted when beyond the plainHe stood upon that river's shoreThe dying monk had bid him gain. 

A little house he saw: clay-wrought, Of wattle woven through and through:Then, all his weariness forgot, The joy of drowning-sleep he knew. 

Three hours he slept, and then he heardA voice--and yet a voice so lowIt might have been a dreaming birdSafe-nested by the rushing flow. 

Almost he slept once more: then, _Hush_!Once more he heard above the noiseAnd tempest of the river's rushThe thin faint words of a child's voice. 

"Good Sir, awake from sleep and dream, Good Sir, come out and carry meAcross this dark and raging streamTill safe on the other side I be. "

Great Nial shivered on his bed:"No human creature calls this night, It is a wild fetch of the dead, "He thought, and shrunk, and shook with fright. 

Once more he heard that infant-cry:"Come out, Good Sir, or else I drown--Come out, Good Sir, or else I dieAnd you, too, lose a golden crown. "

"A golden crown"--so Nial thought--"No--no--not thus shall I be ta'en!Keep, ghost-of-the-night, your crown gold-wrought--Of sleep and peace I am full fain!"

Once more the windy dark was filledWith lonely cry, with sobbing plaint:Nial's heart grew sore, its fear was stilled, King Christ, he knew, would scorn him faint. 

"Up, up thou coward, thou sluggard, thou, "He cried, and sprang from off his bed--"No crown thou seekest for thy brow, But help for one in pain and dread!"

Out in the wide and lonely darkNo fetch he saw, no shape, no child:Almost he turned again--but _hark_!A song rose o'er the waters wild:

A king am ITho' a little Child, Son of God am I, Meek and mild, BeautifulBecause God hath saidLet my cup be fullOf wine and bread. 

Come to meShaken heart, Shaken heart!I will not flee. My heartIs thy heartO shaken heart!Stoop to my Cup, Sup, Drink of the wine:The wine and the bread, Saith God, Are mine--My Flesh and my Blood!

Throw thy sword in the flood:Come, shaken heart:Fearful thou art!Have no more fear--Lo, I am here, The little One, The Son, Thy Lord and thy King. 

It is I who sing:Christ, your King.... Be not afraid:Look, I am Light, A great starSeen from afarIn the darkness of night:I am Light, Be not afraid ... Wade, wadeInto the deep flood!Think of the Bread, The Wine and the BreadThat are my Flesh and Blood, Cross, cross the Flood, Sure is the goal ... Be not afraidO Soul, Be not afraid!

Nial's heart was filled with joy and pain:"This is my king, my king indeed:To think that drown'd in sleep I've lainWhen Christ the Child-God crieth in need!"

Swift from his wattled hut he strode, Stumbling among the grass and bent, And, seeking where the river flowed, Far o'er the dark flood peered and leant:

Then suddenly beside him sawA little Child all clad in white:He bowed his head in love and awe, Then lifted high his burthen light. 

High on his shoulders sat the Child, While with strong limbs he fared amongThe rushing waters black and wildAnd where the fiercest currents swung. 

The waters rose more high, more high, Higher and higher every yard ... Nial stumbled on with sob and sigh, Christ heard him panting sore and hard. 

"O Child, " Nial cried, "forbear, forbear!Hark you not how these waters whirled!The weight of all the earth I bear, The weary weight of all the world!"

"_Christopher_!" ... Low above the noise, The rush, the darkness, Nial heardThe far-off music of a VoiceThat said all things in saying one word--

"Christopher ... This thy name shall be!Christ-bearer is thy name, even soBecause of service done to meHeavy with weight of the world's woe. "

With breaking sobs, with panting breathChristopher grasped a bent-held dune, Then with flung staff and as in deathForward he fell in a heavy swoon. 

All night he lay in silence there, But safe from reach of surging tide:White angels had him in their care, Christ healed and watched him side by side. 

When all the silver wings of dawnHad waved above the rose-flusht east, Christopher woke ... His dream was gone. The angelic songs had ceased. 

Was it a dream in very deed, He wondered, broken, trembling, dazed?His staff he lifted from the meadAnd as an upright sapling raised. 

Lo, it was as the monk had said--If he would prove the vision true, His staff would blossom to its headWith flowers of every lovely hue. 

Christopher bowed: before his eyesChrist's love fulfilled the holy hour.... A south-wind blew, green leaves did riseAnd the staff bloomed a myriad flower!

Christopher bowed in holy prayer, While Christ's love fell like healing dew:God's father-hand was on him there:The peace of perfect peace he knew. 

THE CROSS OF THE DUMB

_A Christmas on Iona, Long, Long Ago_

FIONA MACLEOD

One eve, when St. Columba strodeIn solemn mood along the shore, He met an angel on the roadWho but a poor man's semblance bore. 

He wondered much, the holy saint, What stranger sought the lonely isle, But seeing him weary and wan and faintSt. Colum hailed him with a smile. 

"Remote our lone Iona liesHere in the grey and windswept sea, And few are they whom my old eyesBehold as pilgrims bowing the knee.... 

"But welcome ... Welcome ... Stranger-guest, And come with me and you shall findA warm and deer-skinn'd cell for restAnd at our board a welcome kind.... 

"Yet tell me ere the dune we crossHow came you to this lonely land?No curraghs in the tideway tossAnd none is beached upon the strand!"

The weary pilgrim raised his headAnd looked and smiled and said, "From far, My wandering feet have here been ledBy the glory of a shining star.... "

St. Colum gravely bowed, and said, "Enough, my friend, I ask no more;Doubtless some silence-vow was laidUpon thee, ere thou sought'st this shore:

"Now, come: and doff this raiment sadAnd those rough sandals from thy feet:The holy brethren will be gladTo haven thee in our retreat. "

Together past the praying cellsAnd past the wattle-woven domeWhence rang the tremulous vesper bellsSt. Colum brought the stranger home. 

From thyme-sweet pastures grey with dewsThe milch-cows came with swinging tails:And whirling high the wailing mewsScreamed o'er the brothers at their pails. 

A single spire of smoke arose, And hung, a phantom, in the cold:Three younger monks set forth to closeThe ewes and lambs within the fold. 

The purple twilight stole aboveThe grey-green dunes, the furrowed leas:And Dusk, with breast as of a dove, Brooded: and everywhere was peace. 

Within the low refectory sateThe little clan of holy folk:Then, while the brothers mused and ate, The wayfarer arose and spoke.... 

"O Colum of Iona-Isle, And ye who dwell in God's quiet place, Before I crossed your narrow kyleI looked in Heaven upon Christ's face. "

Thereat St. Colum's startled glanceSwept o'er the man so poorly clad, And all the brethren looked askanceIn fear the pilgrim-guest was mad. 

"And, Colum of God's Church i' the seaAnd all ye Brothers of the Rood, The Lord Christ gave a dream to meAnd bade me bring it ye as food. 

"Lift to the wandering cloud your eyesAnd let them scan the wandering Deep.... Hark ye not there the wandering sighsOf brethren ye as outcasts keep?"

Thereat the stranger bowed, and blessed;Then, grave and silent, sought his cell:St. Colum mused upon his guest, Dumb wonder on the others fell. 

At dead of night the Abbot cameTo where the weary wayfarer slept:"Tell me, " he said, "thy holy name... "--No more, for on bowed knees he wept.... 

Great awe and wonder fell on him;His mind was like a lonely wildWhen suddenly is heard a hymnSung by a little innocent child. 

For now he knew their guest to beNo man as he and his, but oneWho in the Courts of EcstasyWorships, flame-winged, the Eternal Son. 

The poor bare cell was filled with light, That came from the swung moons the SevenSeraphim swing day and nightAdown the infinite walls of Heaven. 

But on the fern-wove mattress layNo weary guest. St. Colum kneeled, And found no trace; but, ashen-grey, Far off he heard glad anthems pealed. 

At sunrise when the matins-bellMade a cold silvery music fallThrough silence of each lonely cellAnd over every fold and stall, St. Colum called his monks to comeAnd follow him to where his handsWould raise the Great Cross of the DumbUpon the Holy Island's sands.... 

"For I shall call from out the DeepAnd from the grey fields of the skies, The brethren we as outcasts keep, Our kindred of the dumb wild eyes.... 

"Behold, on this Christ's natal morn, God wills the widening of His laws, Another miracle to be born--_For lo, our guest an Angel was_!... 

"His Dream the Lord Christ gave to himTo bring to us as Christ-Day food, That Dream shall rise a holy hymnAnd hang like a flower upon the Rood!... "

Thereat, while all with wonder staredSt. Colum raised the Holy Tree:Then all with Christ-Day singing faredTo where the last sands lipped the sea. 

St. Colum raised his arms on high ... "O ye, all creatures of the wing, Come here from out the fields o' the sky, Come, here and learn a wondrous thing!"

At that the wild clans of the airCame sweeping in a mist of wings--Ospreys and fierce solanders there, Sea-swallows wheeling mazy rings, The foam-white mew, the green-black scart, The famishing hawk, the wailing tern, All birds from the sand-building martTo lonely bittern and heron.... 

St. Colum raised beseeching handsAnd blessed the pastures of the sea:"Come, all ye creatures, to the sands, Come and behold the Sacred Tree!"

At that the cold clans of the waveWith spray and surge and splash appeared:Up from each wrack-strewn, lightless caveDim day-struck eyes affrighted peered. 

The pollacks came with rushing haste, The great sea-cod, the speckled bass;Along the foaming tideway racedThe herring-tribes like shimmering glass:

The mackerel and the dog-fish ran, The whiting, haddock, in their wake:The great sea-flounders upward span, The fierce-eyed conger and the hake:

The greatest and the least of theseFrom hidden pools and tidal waysSurged in their myriads from the seasAnd stared at St. Columba's face. 

"Hearken, " he cried, with solemn voice--"Hearken! ye people of the Deep, Ye people of the skies, Rejoice!No more your soulless terror keep!

"For lo, an Angel from the LordHath shown us that wherein we sin--But now we humbly do His WordAnd call you, Brothers, kith and kin.... 

"No more we claim the world as oursAnd everything that therein is--To-day, Christ's Day, the infinite powersDecree a common share of bliss. 

"I know not if the new-waked soulThat stirs in every heart I seeHas yet to reach the far-off goalWhose symbol is this Cross-shaped Tree.... 

"But, O dumb kindred of the skies, O kinsfolk of the pathless seas, All scorn and hate I exorcise, And wish you nought but Love and Peace!"

 * * * * *

Thus, on that Christmas-day of oldSt. Colum broke the ancient spell. A thousand years away have rolled, 'Tis now ... "a baseless miracle. "

O fellow-kinsmen of the Deep, O kindred of the wind and cloud, God's children too ... How He must weepWho on that day was glad and proud!

THE CHRISTMAS SONG OF CAEDMON

H. E. G. PARDEE

About the year 650, among the servants in the ancient Abbey ofStreonschall, there was a cowherd whose name was Caedmon. The habits ofthe people of that age were simple and rude; their houses were comfortlesshuts, their dress was made from the skins of their flocks, or from animalstaken in the chase; they had no books, and their literature was limited tothe Latin manuscripts of the Church, which few of the monks even werelearned enough to read, and fewer still to translate. Amid suchinfluences, the life of a cowherd could scarcely be lifted above that ofthe beasts he cared for; if his hunger and thirst were satisfied, he wouldask no more than a pleasant, daisied meadow in summer, and a warm nook inthe winter. But Caedmon had a sensitive nature, that craved somethingnobler. When the minstrels struck their harps, and sung the wildtraditions and fierce conflicts of their tribes and the guests followedwith boisterous jest in their uncouth ballads, Caedmon sat silent andgloomy. 

One evening, as the harp, passing from one to another, drew nearer him, dreading the oft-repeated taunts of his fellows, he crept away in theshadows, and went to his only bed, --a truss of straw. 

After a while he slept, and in his sleep some one of lofty stature, andwith kindly-beaming eyes, stood beside him, and commanded him to sing. "Icannot, " replied Caedmon, despondingly. 

"Sing!" was the uncompromising answer. 

"What shall I sing?"

"The origin of all things. "

Immediately before his quickened sense swept a vision of Creation, and tohis glad surprise he described it all in song. The next morning heremembered, and repeated it; and the monks, hearing of it, took him intothe monastery, and taught him scenes and sentences from the Bible, whichhe rendered into verse, and so became the first of the long line of sacredpoets. 

It was Christmas Eve, and the great hall of the Abbey was decked with theDruids' sacred mistletoe with its pearly fruitage, the bright green of theivy, and branches of holly, with scarlet, shining berries. Great logs wereheaped on the broad stones in the middle of the hall, and jets of flameleaped up to brighten the low, smoke-stained ceiling, and restless shadowsflitted along the wall, while the smoke escaped through the opening in theroof, for chimneys were then, and for many centuries after, unknown. Theunglazed windows were closed at nightfall by wooden shutters, and rudecomfort cheered the inmates. A robin, who had fluttered in at dusk, andfound Christmas cheer on the holly boughs and warmth for his numbed littlefeet, trilled a song of gratitude that winter had made such speed to begone. 

Two nights before, a company of pilgrims from the convents of Palestine, had come to the monastery. They had been many months on their way, eagerlywelcomed wherever they stopped, for journeying was both difficult anddangerous, and travellers from such a remote region were rarely met. Theirdark complexions, hair and beards; their bright, mobile expression; theirmanners toned by the graces of Eastern civilization, were a strangecontrast to the shaggy, elfish, ruddy-faced throng about them. ThisChristmas Eve they were telling the monks wonderful stories of the HolyLand; its beautiful, vine-clad hills; its tropical, luscious fruits; itstowering, plumy palms and hoary cedars; the long lines of caravans thatwound over the silent, pathless deserts to bring to its cities the richesof Oriental commerce; the palaces and heathen temples of those cities, andthe traditional glory of _the_ Temple, with its magnificence of gold, andprecious stones, and woods and ivory. On the table were huge platters ofsmoking meats, and serving men brought in flagons and tankards of ale, andfeasting, stories and minstrelsy held the hours till the midnight bellcalled to the first mass and ushered in Christmas Day. Caedmon, comingback from the frosty chapel, saw the stars shining in the brilliance ofwinter skies. His heart was suffused with all he had heard the pilgrimsrepeat; for the first time it entered his mind that the same stars that hesaw twinkling, held their course at that glad time when "the morning-starssang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy, "--a prelude tothis other song of "the great multitude of the heavenly host. " He enteredthe hall, and when the company reassembled, he took his harp, and sangwith power and pathos of the slumbering flocks on Judea's upland pastures;the faithful, watching shepherds; the loneliness and silence of the night;the sudden, startling brightness that shone about them, and envelopedtheir angel visitant, who kindly soothed their alarm with "Fear not;" andthe outburst of angelic song, unheard by the ears dulled with sleep, butoverpowering these astonished men. "O happy shepherds! who alone amongmen, were ever privileged to hear the songs of heaven. "

His audience was thrilled. Never had the monks heard Caedmon, or any otherminstrel, sing with such fire; the intervening centuries fled before hissong. They, too, went to the lowly manger, and saw the Divine Infanthushed on the happy breast of his young Mother and felt Mary's awe whenthe shepherds told her what they that night had seen and heard. WhileCaedmon sang they saw the caravan winding over an unmarked way and thewise men of the Orient following ever the strange star, till, after weeksof travel, it stood over the place where the young Child lay. They saw, too, the aged, bearded Melchior, Gaspar, young and fresh, and Balthazarthe Moor, descend from their kneeling camels with their kingly offeringsof gold, frankincense and myrrh and prostrate themselves in reverencebefore the Holy Babe. 

"'Twas ages, ages long ago, " and Caedmon and his hymns are nigh forgotten, but with each returning Christmas-tide may be heard again, as Caedmonheard of yore, the angels' song of joy: "Glory to God in the highest, andon earth peace, good will toward men. "

GOOD KING WENCESLAS

JOHN MASON NEALE

Good King Wenceslas looked out On the Feast of Stephen, When the snow lay round about, Deep, and crisp, and even. 

Brightly shone the moon that night Though the frost was cruel, When a poor man came in sight, Gath'ring winter fuel. 

"Hither, page, and stand by me, If thou know'st it, telling, Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?"

"Sire, he lives a good league hence, Underneath the mountain;Right against the forest fence, By Saint Agnes' fountain. "

"Bring me flesh, and bring me wine, Bring me pine-logs hither;Thou and I will see him dine, When we bear them thither. "

Page and monarch, forth they went, Forth they went together;Through the rude wind's wild lament And the bitter weather. 

"Sire, the night is darker now, And the wind blows stronger;Fails my heart, I know not how, I can go no longer. "

"Mark my footsteps, good my page; Tread thou in them boldly:Thou shalt find the winter rage Freeze thy blood less coldly. "

In his master's steps he trod, Where the snow lay dinted;Heat was in the very sod Which the saint had printed. 

Therefore, Christian men, be sure, Wealth or rank possessing, Ye who now will bless the poor, Shall yourselves find blessing. 

THE CHRISTMAS AT GRECCIO: ASTORY OF ST. FRANCIS

SOPHIE JEWETT

"The beautiful Mother is bending Low where her Baby liesHelpless and frail, for her tending; But she knows the glorious eyes. 

"The Mother smiles and rejoices While the Baby laughs in the hay;She listens to heavenly voices: 'The child shall be King, one day. '

"O dear little Christ in the manger, Let me make merry with Thee. O King, in my hour of danger, Wilt Thou be strong for me?"

--Adapted from the Latin of Jacopone da Todi. Thirteenth Century. 

One night in December ... Brother Francis, with one companion, was walkingthrough the beautiful valley of the Velino River, toward Rieti, a littlecity where he came often on his way from Assisi to Rome. To-night he hadturned somewhat aside from the main road, for he wished to spend Christmaswith his friend, Sir John of Greccio. Greccio is a tiny village, lyingwhere the foothills begin, on the western side of the valley. The veryfeet of Brother Francis knew the road so well that he could have walkedsafely in the darkness, but it was not dark. The full moon floated overthe valley, making the narrow river and the sharp outlines of thesnow-covered mountains shine like silver. The plain and the lower hillswere pasture land, and, not far from the road, on a grassy slope, theBrothers saw the red glow of an almost spent shepherds' fire. "Let usstop and visit our brothers, the shepherds, " said Francis, and theyturned toward the fading fire. 

There was no sense of winter in the air, scarcely a touch of frost, andthe only snow was that on the silver peaks against the sky. The shepherds, three men and one boy, lay sleeping soundly on the bare ground, with theirsheepskin coats drawn closely around them. All about them the sheep weresleeping, too, but the solemn white sheep dogs were wide awake. If astranger's foot had trod the grass never so softly, every dog would havebarked, and every shepherd would have been on his feet in an instant. Butthe dogs trotted silently up to the Grey Brothers and rubbed against them, as if they said, "We are glad to see you again, " for they knew thefriendly feet of the Little Poor Man, and they had more than once helpedhim to eat the bread that was his only dinner. Followed by the dogs, Francis walked about among the shepherds, but they slept on, as only menwho live out of doors can sleep, and Francis could not find it in hisheart to waken them. The sheep lay huddled together in groups for morewarmth. Around one small square of grass a net was stretched, and, insideit, were the mother sheep who had little lambs. There was no sound exceptthe faint cry, now and then, of a baby lamb. The coals over which theshepherds had cooked their supper paled from dull red to grey, and therewas only a thin column of smoke, white in the moonlight. Francis sat downon a stone, and the largest of the white dogs pressed up against his knee. Another went dutifully back to his post beside the fold where the mothersand babies slept. The Italian hillside seemed to Francis to change to thatof Bethlehem, which he had seen, perhaps, on his Eastern journey; theclear December night seemed like that of the first Christmas Eve. "Howthese shepherds sleep!" he thought; "how they would awaken if they heardthe 'Peace on earth' of the angels' song!" Then he remembered sadly howthe armies that called themselves Christian had, year after year, battledwith the Saracens over the cradle and the tomb of the Prince of Peace. Themoonlight grew misty about him, the silver heights of the mountains andthe silver line of the river faded, for the eyes of Brother Francis werefull of tears. 

As the two Brothers went on their way, Francis grew light of heart again. The sight of the shepherds sleeping on the grass had given him a new idea, and he was planning a surprise for his friends at Greccio. For at Greccioall were his friends, from Sir John, his host, down to the babies in thestreet. In the valley of Rieti he was almost as well known and as dearlyloved as in his own valley of Assisi. The children of Greccio had neverheard of Christmas trees, nor, perhaps, of Christmas presents. I am notsure that, in the thirteenth century, Italians had the beautiful customwhich they now have of giving presents at Twelfth Night, in memory of thecoming of the three kings with their gifts to the Christ Child; but in thethirteenth century, even as now, Christmas was the happiest festival ofthe year. This year all the folk of Greccio, big and little, were happierthan usual because their beloved Brother Francis was to help them keeptheir Christmas-tide. Next day Francis confided his plan to his friend, Sir John, who promised that all should be ready on Christmas Eve. 

On the day before Christmas, the people came from all the country aroundto see and hear Brother Francis. Men, women and children, dressed in theirholiday clothes, walking, riding on donkeys, crowding into little cartsdrawn by great white oxen, from everywhere and in every fashion, thecountry folk came toward Greccio. Many came from far away, and the earlywinter darkness fell long before they could reach the town. The light oftheir torches might be seen on the open road, and the sound of theirsinging reached the gates of Greccio before them. That night the littletown was almost as crowded as was Bethlehem on the eve of the firstChristmas. The crowds were poor folk, for the most part, peasants from thefields, charcoal burners from the mountains, shepherds in their sheepskincoats and trousers, made with the wool outside, so that the wearers lookedlike strange, two-legged animals. The four shepherds who had slept sosoundly a few nights before were of the company, but they knew nothing oftheir midnight visitors. The white dogs knew, but they could keep asecret. The shepherds were almost as quiet as their dogs. They alwaystalked and sang less than other people, having grown used to long silencesamong their sheep. 

Gathered at last into the square before the church, by the light offlaring torches, for the moon would rise late, the people saw with wonderand delight the surprise which Brother Francis and Sir John had preparedfor them. They looked into a real stable. There was the manger full ofhay, there were a live ox and a live ass. Even by torchlight their breathshowed in the frosty air. And there, on the hay, lay a real baby, wrappedfrom the cold, asleep and smiling. It looked as sweet and innocent as theChrist Child Himself. The people shouted with delight. They clapped theirhands and waved their torches. 

Then there was silence, for Brother Francis stood before them, and thevoice they loved so well, and had come so far to hear, began to read theold story of the birth of the Child Jesus, of the shepherds in the fields, and of the angels' song. When the reading was ended, Brother Francistalked to them as a father might speak to his children. He told of thelove that is gentle as a little child, that is willing to be poor andhumble as the Baby who was laid in a manger among the cattle. He beggedhis listeners to put anger and hatred and envy out of their hearts thisChristmas Eve, and to think only thoughts of peace and good will. Alllistened eagerly while Brother Francis spoke, but the moment he finishedthe great crowd broke into singing. From the church tower the bells rangloud; the torches waved wildly, while voices here and there shouted forBrother Francis and for the Blessed Little Christ. Never before had suchglorious hymns nor such joyous shouting been heard in the town of Greccio. Only the mothers, with babies in their arms, and the shepherds, in theirwoolly coats, looked on silently and thought: "We are in Bethlehem. "

THE SIN OF THE PRINCE BISHOP

WILLIAM CANTON

The Prince Bishop Evrard stood gazing at his marvellous Cathedral; and ashe let his eyes wander in delight over the three deep sculptured portalsand the double gallery above them, and the great rose window, and theringers' gallery, and so up to the massive western towers, he felt asthough his heart were clapping hands for joy within him. And he thought tohimself, "Surely in all the world God has no more beautiful house thanthis which I have built with such long labor and at so princely an outlayof my treasure. " And thus the Prince Bishop fell into the sin ofvainglory, and, though he was a holy man, he did not perceive that he hadfallen, so filled with gladness was he at the sight of his completed work. 

In the double gallery of the west front there were many great statues withcrowns and sceptres, but a niche over the central portal was empty andthis the Prince Bishop intended to fill with a statue of himself. It wasto be a very small simple statue, as became one who prized lowliness ofheart, but as he looked up at the vacant place it gave him pleasure tothink that hundreds of years after he was dead people would pause beforehis effigy and praise him and his work. And this, too, was vainglory. 

As the Prince Bishop lay asleep that night a mighty six-winged Angel stoodbeside him and bade him rise. "Come, " he said, "and I will show thee someof those who have worked with thee in building the great church, and whoseservice in God's eyes has been more worthy than thine. " And the Angel ledhim past the Cathedral and down the steep street of the ancient city, andthough it was midday, the people going to and fro did not seem to seethem. Beyond the gates they followed the shelving road till they came togreen level fields, and there in the middle of the road, between grassybanks covered white with cherry blossom, two great white oxen, yoked to ahuge block of stone, stood resting before they began the toilsome ascent. 

"Look!" said the Angel; and the Prince Bishop saw a little blue-wingedbird which perched on the stout yoke beam fastened to the horns of theoxen, and sang such a heavenly song of rest and contentment that the bigshaggy creatures ceased to blow stormily through their nostrils, and drewlong tranquil breaths instead. 

"Look again!" said the Angel. And from a hut of wattles and clay a littlepeasant girl came with a bundle of hay in her arms, and gave first one ofthe oxen and then the other a wisp. Then she stroked their black muzzles, and laid her rosy face against their white cheeks. Then the Prince Bishopsaw the rude teamster rise from his rest on the bank and cry to hiscattle, and the oxen strained against the beam and the thick ropestightened, and the huge block of stone was once more set in motion. 

And when the Prince Bishop saw that it was these fellow-workers whoseservice was more worthy in God's eyes than his own, he was abashed andsorrowful for his sin, and the tears of his own weeping awoke him. So hesent for the master of the sculptors and bade him fill the little nicheover the middle portal, not with his own effigy but with an image of thechild; and he bade him make two colossal figures of the white oxen; and tothe great wonderment of the people these were set up high in the tower sothat men could see them against the blue sky. "And as for me, " he said, "let my body be buried, with my face downward, outside the great church, in front of the middle entrance, that men may trample on my vainglory andthat I may serve them as a stepping-stone to the house of God; and thelittle child shall look on me when I lie in the dust. "

Now the little girl in the niche was carved with wisps of hay in herhands, but the child who had fed the oxen knew nothing of this, and as shegrew up she forgot her childish service, so that when she had grown towomanhood and chanced to see this statue over the portal she did not knowit was her own self in stone. But what she had done was not forgotten inheaven. 

And as for the oxen, one of them looked east and one looked west acrossthe wide fruitful country about the foot of the hill-city. And one caughtthe first grey gleam, and the first rosy flush, and the first goldensplendor of the sunrise; and the other was lit with the color of thesunset long after the lowlands had faded away in the blue mist of thetwilight. Weary men and worn women looking up at them felt that a gladnessand a glory and a deep peace had fallen on the life of toil. And then, when people began to understand, they said it was well that these mightylaborers, who had helped to build the house, should still find a place ofservice and honor in the house; and they remembered that the Master of thehouse had once been a Babe warmed in a manger by the breath of kine. Andat the thought of this men grew more pitiful to their cattle, and to thebeasts in servitude, and to all dumb animals. And that was one good fruitwhich sprang from the Prince Bishop's repentance. 

Now over the colossal stone oxen hung the bells of the Cathedral. OnChristmas Eve the ringers, according to the old custom, ascended to theirgallery to ring in the birth of the Babe Divine. At the moment of midnightthe master ringer gave the word, and the great bells began to swing injoyful sequence. Down below in the crowded church lay the image of thenew-born Child on the cold straw, and at His haloed head stood the imagesof the ox and the ass. Far out across the snow-roofed city, far away overthe white glistening country rang the glad music of the tower. People whowent to their doors to listen cried in astonishment: "Hark! what strangemusic is that? It sounds as if the lowing of cattle were mingled with thechimes of the bells. " In truth it was so. And in every byre the oxen andthe kine answered the strange sweet cadences with their lowing, and thegreat stone oxen lowed back to their kin of the meadow through the deepnotes of the joy-peal. 

In the fulness of time the Prince Bishop Evrard died and was buried as hehad willed, with his face humbly turned to the earth; and to this day theweather-wasted figure of the little girl looks down on him from her niche, and the slab over his grave serves as a stepping-stone to pious feet. 

Taken by permission of E. P. Dutton and Company from "A Child's Book ofSaints, " by William Canton, Everyman's Library. 

EARL SIGURD'S CHRISTMAS EVE

HJALMAR HJORTH BOYESEN

Earl Sigurd, he rides o'er the foam-crested brine, And he heeds not the billowy brawl, For he yearns to behold gentle Swanwhite, the maid Who abides in Sir Burislav's hall. 

"Earl Sigurd, the viking, he comes, he is near! Earl Sigurd, the scourge of the sea;Among the wild rovers who dwell on the deep, There is none that is dreaded as he. 

"Oh, hie ye, ye maidens, and hide where ye can, Ere the clang of his war-ax ye hear, For the wolf of the woods has more pity than he, And his heart is as grim as his spear. "

Thus rang the dread tidings, from castle to hut, Through the length of Sir Burislav's land, As they spied the red pennon unfurled to the breeze, And the galleys that steered for the strand. 

But with menacing brow, looming high in his prow Stood Earl Sigurd, and fair to beholdWas his bright, yellow hair, as it waved in the air, 'Neath the glittering helmet of gold. 

"Up, my comrades, and stand with your broadswords in hand, For the war is great Odin's delight;And the Thunderer proud, how he laughs in his cloud When the Norsemen prepare for the fight!"

And the light galleys bore the fierce crew to the shore, And naught good did their coming forebode, And a wail rose on high to the storm-riven sky As to Burislav's castle they strode. 

Then the stout-hearted men of Sir Burislav's train To the gate-way came thronging full fastAnd the battle-blade rang with a murderous clang, Borne aloft on the wings of the blast. 

And they hewed and they thrust, till each man bit the dust, Their fierce valor availing them naught. But the Thunderer proud, how he laughed in his cloud, When he saw how the Norsemen had fought!

Then came Burislav forth; to the men of the North Thus in quivering accents spake he:"O, ye warriors, name me the ransom ye claim, Or in gold, or in robes, or in fee. "

"Oh, what reck I thy gold?" quoth Earl Sigurd, the bold; "Has not Thor laid it all in my hand?Give me Swanwhite, the fair, and by Balder I swear I shall never revisit thy land. 

"For my vengeance speeds fast, and I come like the blast Of the night o'er the billowy brine;I forget not thy scorn and thy laugh on that morn When I wooed me the maid that was mine. "

Then the chief, sore afraid, brought the lily-white maid To the edge of the blood-sprinkled field, And they bore her aloft o'er the sward of the croft On the vault of the glittering shield. 

But amain in their path, in a whirlwind of wrath Came young Harold, Sir Burislav's son;With a great voice he cried, while the echoes replied: "Lo, my vengeance, it cometh anon!"

Hark ye, Norsemen, hear great tidings: Odin, Thor, and Frey are dead, And white Christ, the strong and gentle, standeth peace-crowned in their stead. 

Lo, the blood-stained day of vengeance to the ancient night is hurled, And the dawn of Christ is beaming blessings o'er the new-born world. 

"See the Cross in splendor gleaming far and wide o'er pine-clad heath, While the flaming blade of battle slumbers in its golden sheath. And before the lowly Savior, e'en the rider of the sea, Sigurd, tamer of the billow, he hath bent the stubborn knee. "

Now at Yule-tide sat he feasting on the shore of Drontheim fiord, And his stalwart swains about him watched the bidding of their lord. Huge his strength was, but his visage, it was mild and fair to see;Ne'er old Norway, heroes' mother, bore a mightier son than he. 

With her maids sat gentle Swanwhite 'neath a roof of gleaming shields, As the rarer lily blossoms 'mid the green herbs of the fields;

To and fro their merry words flew lightly through the torch-lit room, Like a shuttle deftly skipping through the mazes of the loom. 

And the scalds with nimble fingers o'er the sounding harp-strings swept;Now the strain in laughter rippled, now with hidden woe it wept, For they sang of Time's beginning, ere the sun the day brought forth--Sang as sing the ocean breezes through the pine-woods of the North. 

Bolder beat the breasts of Norsemen--when amid the tuneful dinOpen sprang the heavy hall-doors, and a stranger entered in. Tall his growth, though low he bended o'er a twisted staff of oak, And his stalwart shape was folded in a dun, unseemly cloak. 

Straight the Earl his voice uplifted: "Hail to thee, my guest austere!Drain with me this cup of welcome: thou shalt share our Yule-tide cheer. Thou shalt sit next to my high-seat e'enthough lowly be thy birth, For to-night our Lord, the Savior, came astranger to his earth. "

Up then rose the gentle Swanwhite, and her eyes with fear grew bright;Down the dusky hall she drifted, as a shadow drifts by night. "If my lord would hold me worthy, " low she spake, "then grant me leaveTo abide between the stranger and my lord, this Christmas eve. "

"Strange, O guest, is women's counsel, still their folly is the staffUpon which our wisdom leaneth, " and he laughed a burly laugh;Lifted up her lissome body with a husband's tender pride, Kissed her brow, and placed her gently in the high-seat at his side. 

But the guest stood pale and quivered, where the red flames roofward rose, And he clenched the brimming goblet in his fingers, fierce and close, Then he spake: "All hail, Earl Sigurd, mightiest of the Norsemen, hail!Ere I name to thee my tidings, I will taste thy flesh and ale. "

Quoth the merry Earl with fervor: "Courteous is thy speech and free:While thy worn soul thou refreshest, I will sing a song to thee;For beneath that dusky garment thou mayst hide a hero's heart, And my hand, though stiff, hath scarcely yet unlearned the singer's art. "

Then the arms so tightly folded round his neck the Earl unclasped, And his heart was stirred within him as the silvern strings he grasped, But with eyes of meek entreaty, closely to his side she clung, While his mighty soul rose upward on the billows of the song. 

For he sang, in tones impassioned, of the death of Aesir bright, Sang the song of Christ the glorious, who was born a babe to-night, How the hosts of heaven victorious joined the anthem of his birth, Of the kings the starlight guided from the far lands of the earth. 

And anon, with bodeful glamour fraught, the hurrying strain sped on, As he sang the law of vengeance and the wrath forever gone, Sang of gods with murder sated, who had laid the fair earth waste, Who had whetted swords of Norsemen, plunged them into Norsemen's breast. 

But he shook a shower of music, rippling from the silver strings, And bright visions rose of angels and of fair and shining thingsAs he sang of heaven's rejoicing at the mild and bloodless reignOf the gentle Christ who bringeth peace and good-will unto men!

But the guest sat dumb and hearkened, staring at the brimming bowl, While the lay with mighty wing-beats swept the darkness of his soul. 

For the Christ who worketh wonders as of old, so e'en to-daySent his angel downward gliding on the ladder of the lay. 

As the host his song had ended with a last resounding twang, And within the harp's dumb chambers murmurous echoes faintly rang, Up then sprang the guest, and straightway downward rolled his garment dun--There stood Harold, the avenger, Burislav's undaunted son. 

High he loomed above the feasters in the torchlight dim and weird, From his eyes hot tears were streaming, sparkling in his tawny beard;Shining in his sea-blue mantle stood he, 'mid that wondering throng, And each maiden thought him fairest, and each warrior vowed him strong. 

Swift he bared his blade of battle, flung it quivering on the board:"Lo!" he cried, "I came to bid thee baleful greeting with my sword;Thou hast dulled the edge that never shrank from battle's fiercest test--Now I come, as comes a brother, swordless unto brother's breast. 

"With three hundred men I landed in the gloaming at thy shore--Dost thou hear their axes clanking on their shields without thy door?But a yearning woke within me my sweet sister's voice to hear, To behold her face and whisper words of warning in her ear. 

"But I knew not of the new-born king, who holds the earth in sway, And whose voice like fragrance blended in the soarings of thy lay. This my vengeance now, O brother: foes as friends shall hands unite;Teach me, thou, the wondrous tidings, and the law of Christ the white. "

Touched as by an angel's glory, strangely shone Earl Sigurd's face, As he locked his foe, his brother, in a brotherly embrace;

And each warrior upward leaping, swung his horn with gold bedight:"Hail to Sigurd, hail to Harold, three times hail to Christ the white!"

A CHRISTMAS LEGEND

FLORENCE SCANNELL

It was Christmas Eve. The night was very dark and the snow falling fast, as Hermann, the charcoal-burner, drew his cloak tighter around him, andthe wind whistled fiercely through the trees of the Black Forest. He hadbeen to carry a load to a castle near, and was now hastening home to hislittle hut. Although he worked very hard, he was poor, gaining barelyenough for the wants of his wife and his four little children. He wasthinking of them, when he heard a faint wailing. Guided by the sound, hegroped about and found a little child, scantily clothed, shivering andsobbing by itself in the snow. 

"Why, little one, have they left thee here all alone to face this cruelblast?"

The child answered nothing, but looked piteously up in thecharcoal-burner's face. 

"Well, I cannot leave thee here. Thou would'st be dead before themorning. "

So saying, Hermann raised it in his arms, wrapping it in his cloak andwarming its little cold hands in his bosom. When he arrived at his hut, heput down the child and tapped at the door, which was immediately thrownopen, and the children rushed to meet him. 

"Here, wife, is a guest to our Christmas Eve supper, " said he, leading inthe little one, who held timidly to his finger with its tiny hand. 

"And welcome he is, " said the wife. "Now let him come and warm himself bythe fire. "

The children all pressed round to welcome and gaze at the littlenew-comer. They showed him their pretty fir-tree, decorated with bright, colored lamps in honor of Christmas Eve, which the good mother hadendeavored to make a _fête_ for the children. 

Then they sat down to supper, each child contributing of its portion forthe guest, looking with admiration at its clear, blue eyes and goldenhair, which shone so as to shed a brighter light in the little room; andas they gazed, it grew into a sort of halo round his head, and his eyesbeamed with a heavenly luster. Soon two white wings appeared at hisshoulders, and he seemed to grow larger and larger, and then the beautifulvision vanished, spreading out his hands as in benediction over them. 

Hermann and his wife fell on their knees, exclaiming, in awe-struckvoices: "The holy Christ-child!" and then embraced their wonderingchildren in joy and thankfulness that they had entertained the HeavenlyGuest. 

The next morning, as Hermann passed by the place where he had found thefair child, he saw a cluster of lovely white flowers, with dark greenleaves, looking as though the snow itself had blossomed. Hermann pluckedsome, and carried them reverently home to his wife and children, whotreasured the fair blossoms and tended them carefully in remembrance ofthat wonderful Christmas Eve, calling them Chrysanthemums; and every year, as the time came round, they put aside a portion of their feast and gaveit to some poor little child, according to the words of the Christ:"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. "

THE LEGEND OF THE CHRISTMAS ROSE

SELMA LAGERLÖF

Robber Mother, who lived in Robbers' Cave up in Göinge forest, went downto the village one day on a begging tour. Robber Father, who was anoutlawed man, did not dare to leave the forest, but had to content himselfwith lying in wait for the wayfarers who ventured within its borders. Butat that time travellers were not very plentiful in Southern Skåne. If itso happened that the man had had a few weeks of ill luck with his hunt, his wife would take to the road. She took with her five youngsters, andeach youngster wore a ragged leathern suit and birch-bark shoes and bore asack on his back as long as himself. When Robber Mother stepped inside thedoor of a cabin, no one dared refuse to give her whatever she demanded;for she was not above coming back the following night and setting fire tothe house if she had not been well received. Robber Mother and her broodwere worse than a pack of wolves, and many a man felt like running a spearthrough them; but it was never done, because they all knew that the manstayed up in the forest, and he would have known how to wreak vengeance ifanything had happened to the children or the old woman. 

Now that Robber Mother went from house to house and begged, she came oneday to Övid, which at that time was a cloister. She rang the bell of thecloister gate and asked for food. The watchman let down a small wicket inthe gate and handed her six round bread cakes--one for herself and one foreach of the five children. 

While the mother was standing quietly at the gate, her youngsters wererunning about. And now one of them came and pulled at her skirt, as asignal that he had discovered something which she ought to come and see, and Robber Mother followed him promptly. 

The entire cloister was surrounded by a high and strong wall, but theyoungster had managed to find a little back gate which stood ajar. WhenRobber Mother got there, she pushed the gate open and walked insidewithout asking leave, as it was her custom to do. 

Övid Cloister was managed at that time by Abbot Hans, who knew all aboutherbs. Just within the cloister wall he had planted a little herb garden, and it was into this that the old woman had forced her way. 

At first glance Robber Mother was so astonished that she paused at thegate. It was high summertide, and Abbot Hans' garden was so full offlowers that the eyes were fairly dazzled by the blues, reds, and yellows, as one looked into it. But presently an indulgent smile spread over herfeatures, and she started to walk up a narrow path that lay between manyflower-beds. 

In the garden a lay brother walked about, pulling up weeds. It was he whohad left the door in the wall open, that he might throw the weeds andtares on the rubbish heap outside. 

When he saw Robber Mother coming in, with all five youngsters in tow, heran toward her at once and ordered them away. But the beggar woman walkedright on as before. She cast her eyes up and down, looking now at thestiff white lilies which spread near the ground, then on the ivy climbinghigh upon the cloister wall, and took no notice whatever of the laybrother. 

He thought she had not understood him, and wanted to take her by the armand turn her toward the gate. But when the robber woman saw his purpose, she gave him a look that sent him reeling backward. She had been walkingwith back bent under her beggar's pack, but now she straightened herselfto her full height. "I am Robber Mother from Göinge forest; so touch me ifyou dare!" And it was obvious that she was as certain she would be left inpeace as if she had announced that she was the Queen of Denmark. 

And yet the lay brother dared to oppose her, although now, when he knewwho she was, he spoke reasonably to her. "You must know, Robber Mother, that this is a monks' cloister, and no woman in the land is allowed withinthese walls. If you do not go away, the monks will be angry with mebecause I forgot to close the gate, and perhaps they will drive me awayfrom the cloister and the herb garden. "

But such prayers were wasted on Robber Mother. She walked straight aheadamong the little flower-beds and looked at the hyssop with its magentablossoms, and at the honeysuckles, which were full of deep orange-coloredflower clusters. 

Then the lay brother knew of no other remedy than to run into the cloisterand call for help. 

He returned with two stalwart monks, and Robber Mother saw that now itmeant business! With feet firmly planted she stood in the path and beganshrieking in strident tones all the awful vengeance she would wreak on thecloister if she couldn't remain in the herb garden as long as she wished. But the monks did not see why they need fear her and thought only ofdriving her out. Then Robber Mother let out a perfect volley of shrieks, and, throwing herself upon the monks, clawed and bit at them; so did allthe youngsters. The men soon learned that she could overpower them, andall they could do was to go back into the cloister for reinforcements. 

As they ran through the passage-way which led to the cloister, they metAbbot Hans, who came rushing out to learn what all this noise was about. 

Then they had to confess that Robber Mother from Göinge forest had comeinto the cloister and that they were unable to drive her out and must callfor assistance. 

But Abbot Hans upbraided them for using force and forbade their callingfor help. He sent both monks back to their work, and although he was anold and fragile man, he took with him only the lay brother. 

When Abbot Hans came out in the garden, Robber Mother was still wanderingamong the flower-beds. He regarded her with astonishment. He was certainthat Robber Mother had never before seen an herb garden; yet she saunteredleisurely between all the small patches, each of which had been plantedwith its own species of rare flower, and looked at them as if they wereold acquaintances. At some she smiled, at others she shook her head. 

Abbot Hans loved his herb garden as much as it was possible for him tolove anything earthly and perishable. Wild and terrible as the old womanlooked, he couldn't help liking that she had fought with three monks forthe privilege of viewing the garden in peace. He came up to her and askedin a mild tone if the garden pleased her. 

Robber Mother turned defiantly toward Abbot Hans, for she expected only tobe trapped and overpowered. But when she noticed his white hair and bentform, she answered peaceably, "First, when I saw this, I thought I hadnever seen a prettier garden; but now I see that it can't be compared withone I know of. "

Abbot Hans had certainly expected a different answer. When he heard thatRobber Mother had seen a garden more beautiful than his, a faint flushspread over his withered cheek. The lay brother, who was standing closeby, immediately began to censure the old woman. "This is Abbot Hans, " saidhe, "who with much care and diligence has gathered the flowers from farand near for his herb garden. We all know that there is not a morebeautiful garden to be found in all Skåne, and it is not befitting thatyou, who live in the wild forest all the year around, should find faultwith his work. "

"I don't wish to make myself the judge of either him or you, " said RobberMother. "I'm only saying that if you could see the garden of which I amthinking you would uproot all the flowers planted here and cast them awaylike weeds. "

But the Abbot's assistant was hardly less proud of the flowers than theAbbot himself, and after hearing her remarks he laughed derisively. "I canunderstand that you only talk like this to tease us. It must be a prettygarden that you have made for yourself amongst the pines in Göinge forest!I'd be willing to wager my soul's salvation that you have never beforebeen within the walls of an herb garden. "

Robber Mother grew crimson with rage to think that her word was doubted, and she cried out: "It may be true that until to-day I had never beenwithin the walls of an herb garden; but you monks, who are holy men, certainly must know that on every Christmas Eve the great Göinge forest istransformed into a beautiful garden, to commemorate the hour of our Lord'sbirth. We who live in the forest have seen this happen every year. And inthat garden I have seen flowers so lovely that I dared not lift my hand topluck them. "

The lay brother wanted to continue the argument, but Abbot Hans gave him asign to be silent. For, ever since his childhood, Abbot Hans had heard itsaid that on every Christmas Eve the forest was dressed in holiday glory. He had often longed to see it, but he had never had the good fortune. Eagerly he begged and implored Robber Mother that he might come up to theRobbers' Cave on Christmas Eve. If she would only send one of her childrento show him the way, he could ride up there alone, and he would neverbetray them--on the contrary, he would reward them, in so far as it layin his power. 

Robber Mother said no at first, for she was thinking of Robber Father andof the peril which might befall him should she permit Abbot Hans to rideup to their cave. At the same time the desire to prove to the monk thatthe garden which she knew was more beautiful than his got the better ofher, and she gave in. 

"But more than one follower you cannot take with you, " said she, "and youare not to waylay us or trap us, as sure as you are a holy man. "

This Abbot Hans promised, and then Robber Mother went her way. Abbot Hanscommanded the lay brother not to reveal to a soul that which had beenagreed upon. He feared that the monks, should they learn of his purpose, would not allow a man of his years to go up to the Robbers' Cave. 

Nor did he himself intend to reveal his project to a human being. And thenit happened that Archbishop Absalon from Lund came to Övid and remainedthrough the night. When Abbot Hans was showing him the herb garden, he gotto thinking of Robber Mother's visit, and the lay brother, who was at workin the garden, heard Abbot Hans telling the Bishop about Robber Father, who these many years had lived as an outlaw in the forest, and asking himfor a letter of ransom for the man, that he might lead an honest lifeamong respectable folk. "As things are now, " said Abbot Hans, "hischildren are growing up into worse malefactors than himself, and you willsoon have a whole gang of robbers to deal with up there in the forest. "

But the Archbishop replied that he did not care to let the robber looseamong honest folk in the villages. It would be best for all that he remainin the forest. 

Then Abbot Hans grew zealous and told the Bishop all about Göinge forest, which, every year at Yuletide, clothed itself in summer bloom around theRobbers' Cave. "If these bandits are not so bad but that God's glories canbe made manifest to them, surely we cannot be too wicked to experience thesame blessing. "

The Archbishop knew how to answer Abbot Hans. "This much I will promiseyou, Abbot Hans, " he said, smiling, "that any day you send me a blossomfrom the garden in Göinge forest, I will give you letters of ransom forall the outlaws you may choose to plead for. "

The lay brother apprehended that Bishop Absalon believed as little in thisstory of Robber Mother's as he himself; but Abbot Hans perceived nothingof the sort, but thanked Absalon for his good promise and said that hewould surely send him the flower. 

Abbot Hans had his way. And the following Christmas Eve he did not sit athome with his monks in Övid Cloister, but was on his way to Göinge forest. One of Robber Mother's wild youngsters ran ahead of him, and close behindhim was the lay brother who had talked with Robber Mother in the herbgarden. 

Abbot Hans had been longing to make this journey, and he was very happynow that it had come to pass. But it was a different matter with the laybrother who accompanied him. Abbot Hans was very dear to him, and he wouldnot willingly have allowed another to attend him and watch over him; buthe didn't believe that he should see any Christmas Eve garden. He thoughtthe whole thing a snare which Robber Mother had, with great cunning, laidfor Abbot Hans, that he might fall into her husband's clutches. 

While Abbot Hans was riding toward the forest, he saw that everywhere theywere preparing to celebrate Christmas. In every peasant settlement fireswere lighted in the bathhouse to warm it for the afternoon bathing. Greathunks of meat and bread were being carried from the larders into thecabins, and from the barns came the men with big sheaves of straw to bestrewn over the floors. 

As he rode by the little country churches, he observed that each parson, with his sexton, was busily engaged in decorating his church; and when hecame to the road which leads to Bösjo Cloister, he observed that all thepoor of the parish were coming with armfuls of bread and long candles, which they had received at the cloister gate. 

When Abbot Hans saw all these Christmas preparations, his haste increased. He was thinking of the festivities that awaited him, which were greaterthan any the others would be privileged to enjoy. 

But the lay brother whined and fretted when he saw how they were preparingto celebrate Christmas in every humble cottage. He grew more and moreanxious, and begged and implored Abbot Hans to turn back and not to throwhimself deliberately into the robber's hands. 

Abbot Hans went straight ahead, paying no heed to his lamentations. Heleft the plain behind him and came up into desolate and wild forestregions. Here the road was bad, almost like a stony and burr-strewn path, with neither bridge nor plank to help them over brooklet and rivulet. Thefarther they rode, the colder it grew, and after a while they came uponsnow-covered ground. 

It turned out to be a long and hazardous ride through the forest. Theyclimbed steep and slippery side paths, crawled over swamp and marsh, andpushed through windfall and bramble. Just as daylight was waning, therobber boy guided them across a forest meadow, skirted by tall, naked leaftrees and green fir trees. Back of the meadow loomed a mountain wall, andin this wall they saw a door of thick boards. Now Abbot Hans understoodthat they had arrived, and dismounted. The child opened the heavy door forhim, and he looked into a poor mountain grotto, with bare stone walls. Robber Mother was seated before a log fire that burned in the middle ofthe floor. Alongside the walls were beds of virgin pine and moss, and onone of these beds lay Robber Father asleep. 

"Come in, you out there!" shouted Robber Mother without rising, "and fetchthe horses in with you, so they won't be destroyed by the night cold. "

Abbot Hans walked boldly into the cave, and the lay brother followed. Herewere wretchedness and poverty! and nothing was done to celebrateChristmas. Robber Mother had neither brewed nor baked; she had neitherwashed nor scoured. The youngsters were lying on the floor around akettle, eating; but no better food was provided for them than a waterygruel. 

Robber Mother spoke in a tone as haughty and dictatorial as any well-to-dopeasant woman. "Sit down by the fire and warm yourself, Abbot Hans, " saidshe; "and if you have food with you, eat, for the food which we in theforest prepare you wouldn't care to taste. And if you are tired after thelong journey, you can lie down on one of these beds to sleep. You needn'tbe afraid of oversleeping, for I'm sitting here by the fire keeping watch. I shall awaken you in time to see that which you have come up here tosee. "

Abbot Hans obeyed Robber Mother and brought forth his food sack; but hewas so fatigued after the journey he was hardly able to eat, and as soonas he could stretch himself on the bed, he fell asleep. 

The lay brother was also assigned a bed to rest upon, but he didn't daresleep, as he thought he had better keep his eye on Robber Father toprevent his getting up and capturing Abbot Hans. But gradually fatigue gotthe better of him, too, and he dropped into a doze. 

When he woke up, he saw that Abbot Hans had left his bed and was sittingby the fire talking with Robber Mother. The outlawed robber sat also bythe fire. He was a tall, raw-boned man with a dull, sluggish appearance. His back was turned to Abbot Hans, as though he would have it appear thathe was not listening to the conversation. 

Abbot Hans was telling Robber Mother all about the Christmas preparationshe had seen on the journey, reminding her of Christmas feasts and gameswhich she must have known in her youth, when she lived at peace withmankind. "I'm sorry for your children, who can never run on the villagestreet in holiday dress or tumble in the Christmas straw, " said he. 

At first Robber Mother answered in short, gruff sentences, but by degreesshe became more subdued and listened more intently. Suddenly Robber Fatherturned toward Abbot Hans and shook his clenched fist in his face. "Youmiserable monk! did you come here to coax from me my wife and children?Don't you know that I am an outlaw and may not leave the forest?"

Abbot Hans looked him fearlessly in the eyes. "It is my purpose to get aletter of ransom for you from Archbishop Absalon, " said he. He had hardlyfinished speaking when the robber and his wife burst out laughing. Theyknew well enough the kind of mercy a forest robber could expect fromBishop Absalon!

"Oh, if I get a letter of ransom from Absalon, " said Robber Father, "thenI'll promise you that never again will I steal so much as a goose. "

The lay brother was annoyed with the robber folk for daring to laugh atAbbot Hans, but on his own account he was well pleased. He had seldom seenthe Abbot sitting more peaceful and meek with his monks at Övid than henow sat with this wild robber folk. 

Suddenly Robber Mother rose. "You sit here and talk, Abbot Hans, " shesaid, "so that we are forgetting to look at the forest. Now I can hear, even in this cave, how the Christmas bells are ringing. "

The words were barely uttered when they all sprang up and rushed out. Butin the forest it was still dark night and bleak winter. The only thingthey marked was a distant clang borne on a light south wind. 

"How can this bell ringing ever awaken the dead forest?" thought AbbotHans. For now, as he stood out in the winter darkness, he thought it farmore impossible that a summer garden could spring up here than it hadseemed to him before. 

When the bells had been ringing a few moments, a sudden illuminationpenetrated the forest; the next moment it was dark again, and then thelight came back. It pushed its way forward between the stark trees, like ashimmering mist. This much it effected: The darkness merged into a faintdaybreak. Then Abbot Hans saw that the snow had vanished from the ground, as if some one had removed a carpet, and the earth began to take on agreen covering. Then the ferns shot up their fronds, rolled like abishop's staff. The heather that grew on the stony hills and thebog-myrtle rooted in the ground moss dressed themselves quickly in newbloom. The moss-tufts thickened and raised themselves, and the springblossoms shot upward their swelling buds, which already had a touch ofcolor. 

Abbot Hans' heart beat fast as he marked the first signs of the forest'sawakening. "Old man that I am, shall I behold such a miracle?" thought he, and the tears wanted to spring to his eyes. Again it grew so hazy that hefeared the darkness would once more cover the earth; but almostimmediately there came a new wave of light. It brought with it the splashof rivulet and the rush of cataract. Then the leaves of the trees burstinto bloom, as if a swarm of green butterflies came flying and clusteredon the branches. It was not only trees and plants that awoke, butcrossbeaks hopped from branch to branch, and the woodpeckers hammered onthe limbs until the splinters fairly flew around them. A flock ofstarlings from up country lighted in a fir top to rest. They were paradisestarlings. The tips of each tiny feather shone in brilliant reds, and, asthe birds moved, they glittered like so many jewels. 

Again, all was dark for an instant, but soon there came a new light wave. A fresh, warm south wind blew and scattered over the forest meadow all thelittle seeds that had been brought here from southern lands by birds andships and winds, and which could not thrive elsewhere because of thiscountry's cruel cold. These took root and sprang up the instant theytouched the ground. 

When the next warm wind came along, the blueberries and lignon ripened. Cranes and wild geese shrieked in the air, the bullfinches built nests, and the baby squirrels began playing on the branches of the trees. 

Everything came so fast now that Abbot Hans could not stop to reflect onhow immeasurably great was the miracle that was taking place. He had timeonly to use his eyes and ears. The next light wave that came rushing inbrought with it the scent of newly ploughed acres, and far off in thedistance the milkmaids were heard coaxing the cows--and the tinkle of thesheep's bells. Pine and spruce trees were so thickly clothed with redcones that they shone like crimson mantles. The juniper berries changedcolor every second, and forest flowers covered the ground till it was allred, blue, and yellow. 

Abbot Hans bent down to the earth and broke off a wild strawberry blossom, and, as he straightened up, the berry ripened in his hand. 

The mother fox came out of her lair with a big litter of black-leggedyoung. She went up to Robber Mother and scratched at her skirt, and RobberMother bent down to her and praised her young. The horned owl, who hadjust begun his night chase, was astonished at the light and went back tohis ravine to perch for the night. The male cuckoo crowed, and his matestole up to the nests of the little birds with her egg in her mouth. 

Robber Mother's youngsters let out perfect shrieks of delight. Theystuffed themselves with wild strawberries that hung on the bushes, largeas pine cones. One of them played with a litter of young hares; anotherran a race with some young crows, which had hopped from their nest beforethey were really ready; a third caught up an adder from the ground andwound it around his neck and arm. 

Robber Father was standing out on a marsh eating raspberries. When heglanced up, a big black bear stood beside him. Robber Father broke off anosier twig and struck the bear on the nose. "Keep to your own ground, you!" he said; "this is my turf. " Then the huge bear turned around andlumbered off in another direction. 

New waves of warmth and light kept coming, and now they brought with themseeds from the star-flower. Golden pollen from rye fields fairly flew inthe air. Then came butterflies, so big that they looked like flyinglilies. The bee-hive in a hollow oak was already so full of honey that itdripped down on the trunk of the tree. Then all the flowers whose seedshad been brought from foreign lands began to blossom. The loveliest rosesclimbed up the mountain wall in a race with the blackberry vines, and fromthe forest meadow sprang flowers as large as human faces. 

Abbot Hans thought of the flower he was to pluck for Bishop Absalon; buteach new flower that appeared was more beautiful than the others, and hewanted to choose the most beautiful of all. 

Wave upon wave kept coming until the air was so filled with light that itglittered. All the life and beauty and joy of summer smiled on Abbot Hans. He felt that earth could bring no greater happiness than that which welledup about him, and he said to himself, "I do not know what new beauties thenext wave that comes can bring with it. "

But the light kept streaming in, and now it seemed to Abbot Hans that itcarried with it something from an infinite distance. He felt a celestialatmosphere enfolding him, and tremblingly he began to anticipate, now thatearth's joys had come, the glories of heaven were approaching. 

Then Abbot Hans marked how all grew still; the birds hushed their songs, the flowers ceased growing, and the young foxes played no more. The glorynow nearing was such that the heart wanted to stop beating; the eyes weptwithout one's knowing it; the soul longed to soar away into the Eternal. From far in the distance faint harp tones were heard, and celestial song, like a soft murmur, reached him. 

Abbot Hans clasped his hands and dropped to his knees. His face wasradiant with bliss. Never had he dreamed that even in this life it shouldbe granted him to taste the joys of heaven, and to hear angels singChristmas carols!

But beside Abbot Hans stood the lay brother who had accompanied him. Inhis mind there were dark thoughts. "This cannot be a true miracle, " hethought, "since it is revealed to malefactors. This does not come fromGod, but has its origin in witchcraft and is sent hither by Satan. It isthe Evil One's power that is tempting us and compelling us to see thatwhich has no real existence. "

From afar were heard the sound of angel harps and the tones of a Miserere. But the lay brother thought it was the evil spirits of hell coming closer. "They would enchant and seduce us, " sighed he, "and we shall be sold intoperdition. "

The angel throng was so near now that Abbot Hans saw their bright formsthrough the forest branches. The lay brother saw them, too; but back ofall this wondrous beauty he saw only some dread evil. For him it was thedevil who performed these wonders on the anniversary of our Saviour'sbirth. It was done simply for the purpose of more effectually deludingpoor human beings. 

All the while the birds had been circling around the head of Abbot Hans, and they let him take them in his hands. But all the animals were afraidof the lay brother; no bird perched on his shoulder, no snake played athis feet. Then there came a little forest dove. When she marked that theangels were nearing, she plucked up courage and flew down on the laybrother's shoulder and laid her head against his cheek. 

Then it appeared to him as if sorcery were come right upon him, to temptand corrupt him. He struck with his hand at the forest dove and cried insuch a loud voice that it rang throughout the forest, "Go thou back tohell, whence thou art come!"

Just then the angels were so near that Abbot Hans felt the feathery touchof their great wings, and he bowed down to earth in reverent greeting. 

But when the lay brother's words sounded, their song was hushed and theholy guests turned in flight. At the same time the light and the mildwarmth vanished in unspeakable terror for the darkness and cold in a humanheart. Darkness sank over the earth, like a coverlet; frost came, all thegrowths shrivelled up; the animals and birds hastened away; the rushing ofstreams was hushed; the leaves dropped from the trees, rustling like rain. 

Abbot Hans felt how his heart, which had but lately swelled with bliss, was now contracting with insufferable agony. "I can never outlive this, "thought he, "that the angels from heaven had been so close to me and weredriven away; that they wanted to sing Christmas carols for me and weredriven to flight. "

Then he remembered the flower he had promised Bishop Absalon, and at thelast moment he fumbled among the leaves and moss to try and find ablossom. But he sensed how the ground under his fingers froze and how thewhite snow came gliding over the ground. Then his heart caused him evergreater anguish. He could not rise, but fell prostrate on the ground andlay there. 

When the robber folk and the lay brother had groped their way back to thecave, they missed Abbot Hans. They took brands with them and went out tosearch for him. They found him dead upon the coverlet of snow. 

Then the lay brother began weeping and lamenting, for he understood thatit was he who had killed Abbot Hans because he had dashed from him the cupof happiness which he had been thirsting to drain to its last drop. 

When Abbot Hans had been carried down to Övid, those who took charge ofthe dead saw that he held his right hand locked tight around somethingwhich he must have grasped at the moment of death. When they finally gothis hand open, they found that the thing which he had held in such an irongrip was a pair of white root bulbs, which he had torn from among the mossand leaves. 

When the lay brother who had accompanied Abbot Hans saw the bulbs, he tookthem and planted them in Abbot Hans' herb garden. 

He guarded them the whole year to see if any flower would spring fromthem. But in vain he waited through the spring, the summer, and theautumn. Finally, when winter had set in and all the leaves, and theflowers were dead, he ceased caring for them. 

But when Christmas Eve came again, he was so strongly reminded of AbbotHans that he wandered out into the garden to think of him. And look! as hecame to the spot where he had planted the bare root bulbs, he saw thatfrom them had sprung flourishing green stalks, which bore beautifulflowers with silver white leaves. 

He called out all the monks at Övid, and when they saw that this plantbloomed on Christmas Eve, when all the other growths were as if dead, theyunderstood that this flower had in truth been plucked by Abbot Hans fromthe Christmas garden in Göinge forest. Then the lay brother asked themonks if he might take a few blossoms to Bishop Absalon. 

And when he appeared before Bishop Absalon, he gave him the flowers andsaid: "Abbot Hans sends you these. They are the flowers he promised topick for you from the garden in Göinge forest. "

When Bishop Absalon beheld the flowers, which had sprung from the earth indarkest winter, and heard the words, he turned as pale as if he had met aghost. He sat in silence a moment; thereupon he said, "Abbot Hans hasfaithfully kept his word and I shall also keep mine. " And he ordered thata letter of ransom be drawn up for the wild robber who was outlawed andhad been forced to live in the forest ever since his youth. 

He handed the letter to the lay brother, who departed at once for theRobbers' Cave. When he stepped in there on Christmas Day, the robber cametoward him with axe uplifted. "I'd like to hack you monks into bits, asmany as you are!" said he. "It must be your fault that Göinge forest didnot last night dress itself in Christmas bloom. "

"The fault is mine alone, " said the lay brother, "and I will gladly diefor it; but first I must deliver a message from Abbot Hans. " And he drewforth the Bishop's letter and told the man that he was free. "Hereafteryou and your children shall play in the Christmas straw and celebrate yourChristmas among people, just as Abbot Hans wished to have it, " said he. 

Then Robber Father stood there pale and speechless, but Robber Mother saidin his name, "Abbot Hans has indeed kept his word, and Robber Father willkeep his. "

When the robber and his wife left the cave, the lay brother moved in andlived all alone in the forest, in constant meditation and prayer that hishard-heartedness might be forgiven him. 

But Göinge forest never again celebrated the hour of our Saviour's birth;and of all its glory, there lives to-day only the plant which Abbot Hanshad plucked. It has been named CHRISTMAS ROSE. And each year atChristmastide she sends forth from the earth her green stalks and whiteblossoms, as if she never could forget that she had once grown in thegreat Christmas garden at Göinge forest. 

FÉLIX

By EVALEEN STEIN

A very long while ago, perhaps as many as two hundred years, the littleProvençal village of Sur Varne was all bustle and stir, for it was theweek before Christmas; and always, in all the world, no one has knownbetter how to keep the joyous holiday than have the happy-hearted peopleof Provence, the southeastern corner of France. 

Everybody was busy, hurrying to and fro, gathering garlands of myrtle andlaurel, bringing home their Yule logs with pretty old songs andceremonies, and in various ways making ready for the all-importantfestival. 

Not a house in Sur Varne but in some manner told the coming of the blessedbirthday, and especially were there great preparations in the cottage ofthe shepherd, Père Michaud. This cottage, covered with white stucco, andthatched with long marsh-grass, stood at the edge of the village; oliveand mulberry trees clustered about it, and a wild jasmine vine clamberedover the doorway, while on this particular morning all around the lowprojecting eaves hung a row of tiny wheat-sheaves, swinging in the crispDecember air, and twinkling in the sunlight like a golden fringe. For thePère Michaud had been up betimes, making ready the Christmas feast for thebirds, which no Provençal peasant ever forgets at this gracious season;and the birds knew it, for already dozens of saucy robins and linnets andfieldfares were gathering in the Père's mulberry-trees, their mouthsfairly watering with anticipation. 

Within the cottage the good dame, the Misè Michaud, with wide sleevesrolled up and kirtle tucked back, was hard at work making all manner ofsavory goodies, while in the huge oven beside the blazing hearth the greatChristmas cakes were baking, the famous _pompou_ and _fougasse_, as theywere called, dear to the hearts of the children of old Provence. 

Now and then, as the cottage door swung open on the dame's various cookeryerrands, one might hear a faint "Baa, baa!" from the sheepfold, wherelittle Félix Michaud was very busy also. 

Through the crevices of its weather-beaten boards came the sound ofvigorous scrubbing of wool, and sometimes an impatient "Ninette!Ninette!--thou silly sheep! Wilt thou never stand still?" Or else, in aSofter tone, an eager "Beppo, my little Beppo, dost thou know? Dostthou know?" To all of which there would come no answer save the lamb'sweak little "Baa, baa!"

For Ninette, Beppo's mother, was a silly old sheep, and Beppo was a veryyoung little lamb, and so they could not possibly be expected to know whata great honor had suddenly befallen them. They did not dream that, thenight before, Père Michaud had told Félix that his Beppo (for Beppo wasFélix's very own) had been chosen by the shepherds for the "offered lamb"of the Christmas Eve procession in all its festival splendor in the greatchurch of the village. 

Of the importance of this procession in the eyes of the peasant folk Iwill tell you more by and by; it is enough to say now that to be theoffered lamb, or indeed the offered lamb's mother, for both always wenttogether, was the greatest honor and glory that could possibly happen to aProvençal sheep, and so little Félix was fairly bursting with pride anddelight. And so it was, too, that he was now busying himself washing theirwool, which he determined should shine like spun silver on the greatnight. 

He tugged away, scrubbing and brushing and combing the thick fleeces, andat last, after much labor, considered their toilets done for the day;then, giving each a handful of fresh hay to nibble, he left the fold andtrudged into the cottage. 

"Well, little one, " said the Misè, "hast thou finished thy work?"

"Yes, mother, " answered Félix; "and I shall scrub them so each day tillthe holy night! Even now Ninette is white as milk, and Beppo shines likean angel! Ah, but I shall be proud when he rides up to the altar in hislittle cart! And, mother, dost thou not really think him far handsomerthan was Jean's lamb, that stupid Nano, in the procession last year?"

"There, there, " said the Misè, "never thou mind about Jean's lamb, but runalong now and finish thy crèche. "

Now, in Provence, at the time when Félix lived, no one had ever heard ofsuch a thing as a Christmas tree; but in its stead every cottage had a"crèche"; that is, in one corner of the great living-room, the room of thefireplace, the peasant children and their fathers and mothers built up ona table a mimic village of Bethlehem, with houses and people and animals, and, above all, with the manger, where the Christ Child lay. Everyone tookthe greatest pains to make the crèche as perfect as possible, and someeven went so far as to fasten tiny angels to the rafters, so that theyhovered over the toy houses like a flock of white butterflies; andsometimes a gold star, hung on a golden thread, quivered over the littlemanger, in memory of the wonderful star of the Magi. 

In the Michaud cottage the crèche was already well under way. In thecorner across from the fireplace the Père had built up a mound, and thisFélix had covered with bits of rock and tufts of grass, and little greenboughs for trees, all to represent the rocky hillside of Judea; then, half-way up, he began to place the tiny houses. These he had cut out ofwood and adorned with wonderful carving, in which, indeed, he was veryskilful. And then, such figures as he had made, such quaint little men andwomen, such marvelous animals, camels and oxen and sheep and horses, werenever before seen in Sur Varne. But the figure on which he had lavishedhis utmost skill was that of the little Christ Child, which was not to beplaced in the manger until Christmas night itself. 

Félix kept this figure in his blouse pocket, carefully wrapped up in a bitof wool, and he spent all his spare moments striving to give it some freshbeauty; for I will tell you a secret: poor little Félix had a greatpassion for carving, and the one thing for which he longed above allothers was to be allowed to apprentice himself in the workshop of PèreVideau, who was the master carver of the village, and whose beautiful workon the portals of the great church was the admiration of Félix's heart. Helonged, too, for better tools than the rude little knife he had, and fordays and years in which to learn to use them. 

But the Père Michaud had scant patience with these notions of the littleson's, and once, when Félix had ventured to speak to him about it, hadinsisted rather sharply that he was to stick to his sheep-tending, so thatwhen the Père himself grew old he could take charge of the flocks and keepthe family in bread; for the Père had small faith in the art of the carveras being able to supply the big brown loaves that the Misè baked everyweek in the great stone oven. So Félix was obliged to go on minding theflocks; but whenever he had a moment of his own, he employed it in carvinga bit of wood or chipping at a fragment of soft stone. 

But while I have stopped to tell you all this he had almost finished thecrèche; the little houses were all in place, and the animals grouped aboutthe holy stable, or else seeming to crop the tufts of moss on the mimicrocky hillside. 

"Well, well!" said the Père Michaud, who had just entered the cottage, "'tis a fine bit of work thou hast there, my son! Truly 't is a bravecrèche!"

But here the Misè called them both to the midday meal, which she hadspread smoking hot on the shining deal table. 

When this was finished Félix arose, and, as the Père wished, once morewent out to the fold to see how the sheep, and especially his littleBeppo, were faring. 

As he pushed open the swinging door, Ninette, who was lazily dozing withher toes doubled up under her fleece, blinked her eyes and looked sleepilyaround; but Beppo was nowhere to be seen. 

"Ninette!" demanded Félix fiercely, "what hast thou done with my Beppo?"

At this Ninette peered about in a dazed sort of way, and gave an alarmedlittle "Baa!" for she had not before missed Beppo, who, while she wasasleep, had managed to push open the door of the fold and scamper off, noone knew just where. 

Félix gazed around in dismay when he realized that his lamb, the chosenone, who had brought such pride and honor to him--that this was gone!

"Beppo!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Beppo! Beppo-o!"

But no trace could he see of the little bundle of fleece he had scrubbedand combed so carefully that morning. 

He stood irresolute a moment; then, thinking that if Beppo really wererunning off, not a second was to be lost, he set out at a brisk paceacross the sheep-meadow. He had no idea in what direction the truant lambwould be likely to stray, but on he went, calling every little while in ashrill voice, "Beppo!" Now and then he fancied that he saw in the distancea glimpse of white; but once it proved the Misè Fouchard's linen hung todry on a currant-bush, and again it was a great white stone--but noBeppo; and all the while Félix kept on, quite forgetting that Beppo'sweak, woolly legs could not possibly have carried him so great a distance. 

By and by he had left the village meadows far behind, and was skirting thegreat marsh. Sometimes he shaded his eyes with his hand and looked faracross this low wet land to see if perhaps Beppo had strayed into itsuncertain foothold; but nothing could he see but the waving rushes and thetall bitterns wading about on long, yellow legs. 

And still he pressed heedlessly on farther and farther, till, after awhile, he found himself thrusting through a thick coppice of willowboughs. "Oh, " thought Félix, "what if poor Beppo has strayed into thiswoodland!" And tired as he was, he urged himself on, searching among thetrees; and it was not until he had wandered on and on, deeper and deeperinto the wood, that he realized that the dusk had fallen, and that he mustbe a very, very long way from Sur Varne. 

Félix then began to grow uneasy. He stood still and looked anxiously abouthim; the dark forest trees closed around him on all sides, and he wasquite unable to remember from which direction he had entered the wood. 

Now, Félix was really a very brave little fellow, but he fairly quaked ashe peered through the gathering darkness; for in those days the forests ofProvence were known to harbor many dangerous animals, especially wildboars and wolves. He pricked up his ears, and now and then thought heheard in the distance the stealthy tread of some four-footed forestprowler, and once he was sure he caught the deep howl of a wolf. 

That ended his hesitation. He looked quickly around, and grasping the lowboughs of a slender sapling, managed to swing himself up into a tallchestnut-tree that grew close by; and there he clung, clutching the thickbranches with might and main, feeling very cold and hungry and miserable, his heart all the while sinking clear down into his little peasant shoes. 

And indeed he had cause for fear, for, not a great while after he had thushidden himself, a gaunt wolf really did pass close by, sniffing andpeering, till poor Félix fairly gave up all hope of escaping from thetree; but, luckily, the wolf did not see him, and at last slowly crept onthrough the underwood. 

How long the little boy stayed in the perilous shelter of thechestnut-tree he never knew, but it seemed untold ages to him. After awhile the moon rose, and shed a faint light through the close-lappingbranches; and then, by and by, Félix's ears, strained to listen forevery lightest sound, caught the echo of distant tramping, as of horses'hoofs, and presently two horsemen came in sight, picking their waycautiously along a narrow bridle-path. 

He did not know whom they might prove to be, but wisely thinking thatanything would be better than staying in a tree all night at the mercy ofhungry wolves, he waited till the first rider came quite close, and thenhe plucked up courage to call out faintly: "Oh, sir, stop, I pray thee!"

At this, the rider, who was none other than the noble Count Bernard ofBois Varne, quickly drew rein and, turning, called to his companion:

"Ho, Brian! Heardest thou aught?"

"Nay, my lord, " answered Brian, who was some paces behind, "naught savethe trampling of our own horses' hoofs. "

The count looked all around, and seeing nothing, thought himself mistakenin the sound, and began to pace on. Then Félix, in terror, gave anothershout, this time louder, and at the same moment a little twig he waspressing with his elbow broke away and dropped, striking against thecount's stirrup; for the bridle-path wound directly under the tree whereFélix was perched. 

The count instantly checked his horse again, and, peering up into theboughs overhead, he caught sight of Félix, his yellow hair wet with dewand shining in the moonlight, and his dark eyes wide with fear. 

"Heigh-ho!" exclaimed the count, in blank amazement. "Upon my word, now!what art thou--boy or goblin?"

At this Félix gave a little sob, for he was very tired and very cold. Hehugged the tree tightly, and, steadying himself against the boughs, atlast managed to falter out: "Please thee, sir, I am Félix Michaud, and mylamb Beppo, who was to ride in the Christmas procession, ran off to-day, and--and--I have been hunting him, I think, ever since--since yesterday!"Here poor Félix grew a trifle bewildered; it seemed to him so very longago since he had set out in search of Beppo. "And I live in Sur Varne. "

At this the count gave a long whistle. "At Sur Varne!" he exclaimed. "Ifthou speakest truly, my little man, thou hast indeed a sturdy pair of legsto have carried thee thus far. " And he eyed curiously Félix's dusty littlefeet and leathern leggings, dangling limply from the bough above him. "Dost thou know how far distant is Sur Varne from this forest?"

"Nay, sir, " answered Félix; "but I trow 't is a great way. "

"There thou art right, " said the count; "'t is a good two leagues, if itis a pace. But how now? Thou canst not bide here to become the prey ofhungry wolves, my little night-owl of the yellow hair!"

And thereupon Count Bernard dexterously raised himself in his stirrups, and, reaching upward, caught Félix in his arms and swung him down plump onthe saddle-bow in front of him; then, showing him how to steady himself byholding the pommel, he turned to Brian, his squire, who while all this wasgoing on had stood by in silent astonishment, and giving the order tomove, the little cavalcade hastened on at a rapid pace in order to getclear of the forest as quickly as possible. 

Meantime the Count Bernard, who was really a very kind and noble lord, andwho lived in a beautiful castle on the farther verge of the forest, quitereassured Félix by talking to him kindly, and telling him of the six days'journey from which he and his squire Brian were just returning, and howthey had been delayed on the way until nightfall. 

"And, by my faith!" said Count Bernard, "thou shalt sleep this night inthe strong castle of Bois Varne, with not even a mouse to fret thy yellowhead; and, what is more, thou shalt see the fairest little maid that everthou hast set eyes on!"

And then he told him of his little daughter, the Lady Elinor, and how shewould play with Félix and show him the castle, and how on the morrow theywould see about sending him home to Sur Varne. 

And all the while the count was talking they were trotting briskly onward, till by and by they emerged from the forest and saw towering near at handthe castle of Bois Varne. The tall turrets shone and shimmered in themoonlight, and over the gateway of the drawbridge hung a lighted cresset--that is, a beautiful wrought-iron basket, in which blazed a ruddy torch ofoil to light them on their way. 

At sight of this the count and Brian spurred on their horses, and weresoon clattering across the bridge and into the great paved courtyard. Thecount flung his bridle to a little page who hastened out to meet him, andthen, springing from his saddle, lightly lifted Félix and swung him to theground. He took the boy by the hand and led him into the great hall of thecastle. 

To Félix this looked marvelously beautiful. Christmas garlands of myrtlehung on the walls, and a great pile of freshly cut laurel boughs lay on abench, ready for the morrow's arranging. But that which took his eyes mostof all was the lovely carving everywhere to be seen. The benches andtables were covered with it; the wainscot of the spacious room was richlyadorned; and over and about the wide fireplace great carved dragons ofstone curled their long tails and spread their wings through a maze ofintricate traceries. Félix was enchanted, and gazed around till his eyesfairly ached. 

Presently in came running a little girl, laughing with delight. Boundingup into Count Bernard's arms, she hugged and kissed him in true Provençalfashion. Then, catching sight of Félix, "Ah, mon père, " she exclaimed, "and where foundest thou thy pretty new page?"

"Nay, sweetheart, " answered the count, looking down at Félix's yellowhair; "'t is no page, but a little goldfinch we found perched in achestnut-tree as we rode through the forest. "

Then, smiling at the Lady Elinor's bewilderment, he told her the littleboy's story, and she at once slipped down and greeted him kindly. Then, clapping her hands with pleasure at finding a new playmate, she declaredhe must come and see the Christmas crèche which she was just finishing. She seized him by the hand and hastened across the hall, where her crèchewas built up on a carved bench. The poor little Lady Elinor had no mother, and her father, the count, had been gone for several days; and while inthe castle were no end of serving men and women and retainers, yet none ofthese presumed to dictate to the little mistress, and so she had put hercrèche together in a very odd fashion. 

"There!" said she, "what thinkest thou of it, Félix? Of a truth, I fancysomewhat is wanting, yet I know not how to better it!"

"Yes, " said Felix, bashfully; "it may be I can help thee. "

And so he set to work rearranging the little houses and figures, till hesucceeded in giving quite a lifelike air to the crèche, and Lady Elinorfairly danced with delight. 

While placing the little manger he happened to remember the figure of theChrist Child still in his blouse pocket; this he timidly took out andshowed the little girl, who was charmed, and still more so when he drewforth a small wooden sheep and a dog, which were also in the same pocket. 

The Lady Elinor was so carried away with joy that she flew to the side ofthe count, and, grasping both his hands, dragged him across the room toshow him the crèche and the wonderful figures carved by Félix. 

"See, mon père!" said Elinor, "see this, and this!" And she held up thelittle carvings for the count's inspection. 

Count Bernard, who had good-naturedly crossed the room to please hislittle daughter, now opened his eyes wide with surprise. He took thelittle figures she handed him and examined them closely, for he was a goodjudge of artistic work of this kind. Then he looked at Félix, and atlength he said:

"Well, little forest bird, who taught thee the carver's craft?"

"No one, sir, " faltered Félix; "indeed, I wish, above all things, to learnof the Père Videau, the master carver; but my father says I must be ashepherd, as he is. "

Here a tear rolled down Félix's cheek, for you must remember he wasterribly tired. 

"Well, well, " said the count, "never mind! Thou art weary, little one; wewill talk of this more on the morrow. 'T is high time now that both of youwere sound asleep. Hey, there! Jean! Jacques! Come hither and take care ofthis little lad, and see to it that he hath a soft bed and a featherpillow!"

The next morning the children ate a merry breakfast together, and after itCount Bernard took Félix aside and asked him many questions of his lifeand his home. Then, by and by, knowing how anxious the boy's parents wouldbe, he ordered his trusty squire, Brian, to saddle a horse and conductFélix back to Sur Varne. 

Meantime the little Lady Elinor begged hard that he stay longer in thecastle for her playfellow, and was quite heartbroken when she saw thehorse stand ready in the courtyard. Indeed, she would not be satisfieduntil her father, the count, who could not bear to see her unhappy, hadpromised to some day take her over to see Félix in Sur Varne. Then shesmiled, and made a pretty farewell courtesy, and suddenly snatching fromher dark hair a crimson ribbon of Lyons taffeta, she tied it about Félix'ssleeve, declaring, "There! thou must keep this token, and be my littleknight!" for the Lady Elinor had many lofty notions in her small curlyhead. 

Félix could only stammer out an embarrassed good-by, for in the presenceof this lively little maid he found himself quaking more than when hefeared the terrible wolves of the forest. In another moment Brian liftedhim to the saddle, and, springing up behind, took the bridle-rein, and offthey went. 

When, after several hours' riding, they drew near Sur Varne, Félix showedBrian the way to the Michaud cottage, and you can fancy how overjoyed werethe Père and Misè to see the travelers; for they had been fairly besidethemselves with grief, and had searched all night for their little son. 

Of course almost the first question Félix asked was about Beppo, and hefelt a great load taken off his mind when he learned that the littletruant, who had not really strayed very far from the village, had beenfound and brought home by one of the shepherds, and was even then pennedup safe and sound in the sheepfold. 

After a good night's sleep Félix was quite rested from his journey, andwas busy the next day in helping garland the Yule log, in giving Ninetteand Beppo an extra scrubbing and brushing, and in all the final happypreparations for the great holiday. 

And so Christmas Eve came. It was a lovely star-lit night, and on all sidesone could hear the beautiful Christmas songs of old Provence that all thepeasants and the children sang as they trooped along the roads on theirway to the great church of the village; for thither every one flocked asthe expected hour drew on. 

Then presently the stately service began, and went on with song andincense, and the sweet chanting of children's voices, till suddenly fromthe upper tower of the church a joyous peal of bells rang in the midnight!And all at once, through the dense throng of worshipers nearest the doora pathway opened, and in came four peasants playing on pipes and flutesand flageolets a quaint old air made up three hundred years before by goodKing René for just such a ceremony as was to follow. 

After the pipers walked ten shepherds, two by two, each wearing a longbrown cloak, and carrying a staff and lighted candle; that is, all savethe first two, and these bore, one a basket of fruit, the melons andgrapes and pears of sunny Provence, while the other held in his hands apair of pretty white pigeons with rose-colored eyes and soft, flutteringwings. 

And then, behind the shepherds came--what do you suppose?--Ninette!Ninette, her fleece shining like snow, a garland of laurel and myrtleabout her neck, and twigs of holly nodding behind her ears, while boundabout her woolly shoulders a little harness of scarlet leather shoneagainst the white with dazzling effect; and fastened to the harness, andtrundling along at Ninette's heels, came the gayest of little woodencarts. It was painted in the brightest colors. Its wheels were wrappedwith garlands, and in it, curled up in a fat fleecy ball, lay Beppo! Tiedabout his neck in a huge bow was a crimson ribbon of Lyons taffeta, with asprig of holly tucked into its loops. 

Beppo lay quite still, looking about him with a bewildered, half-dazedexpression, and just behind his cart came ten more shepherds with staffsand candles, while following them was a great throng of peasant folk andchildren (among them Félix), all carrying lighted tapers, and radiant withdelight; for this was the Procession of the Offered Lamb, and to walk inits train was considered by all as the greatest honor and privilege. 

And especially did the shepherd folk love the beautiful old custom whichfor centuries the people of Provence had cherished from year to year inmemory of the time, long ago, when the real Christ Child lay in the mangerof Bethlehem, and the shepherds of Judea sought him out to worship him, and to offer him their fruits and lambs as gifts. 

And so on up the long aisle the procession slowly moved, the pipersplaying, and Ninette marching solemnly along, only now and then pausing tothrust her nose between the Père Michaud and his companion, who walkeddirectly in front of her. Ninette pattered on as if she had trod thefloors of churches all her life; and as for Beppo, only once did he stir, and then he gave a faint "Baa!" and tried to uncurl himself and stand up;but just then the queer little cart gave a joggle which quite upset hisshaky lamb legs, and down he sank, and kept quiet throughout the rest ofthe time. 

After the service the players again struck up King René's tune, and theprocession, shepherds, Ninette, Beppo, peasants, and all, once more movedon, this time down the outer aisle and toward the great open portal. 

It took some time for the last of its followers to reach the doorway, forthe throng was very great; but at length Félix, who had marched with thechildren in the last group, came to the threshold and stepped out into thestarry night. 

He stood for a moment smiling and gazing aimlessly ahead, overwhelmed withthe glory of all that had passed within the church, when presently he feltsome one pluck his sleeve, and turning round, he met the dancing eyes ofthe little Lady Elinor. 

She gave a little peal of laughter at his surprise, and exclaimed: "Oh, Icoaxed _mon père, _ the count, to fetch me hither for this blessed night. Thou knowest he promised! I rode my white palfrey all the way by the sideof his big brown horse. And I have seen the procession, and Beppo with myred ribbon round his neck. " Here she gave another little gurgle ofdelight. "And oh, Félix, my father hath seen thine, and 't is all settled!Thou art to be a famous carver with the Père Videau, as thou wishest" (forthe Lady Elinor had unbounded faith in Félix's powers); "and, Félix, " sheadded, "I trow 't was the little Christ Child for thy crèche that did it!"

Then, with a merry little smile, she darted off to her father, the CountBernard, who was waiting for her down the church path. 

For a little while after she had gone Félix did not move, but stood as onein a dream. Presently a loud bleat close at his side startled him, and, looking down, he saw that Ninette, decked in her gay garlands, and stilldragging the be-ribboned Beppo in the little cart, had broken away fromthe Père Michaud and come close up to himself. 

Then, with a sudden movement, he stooped over, and, seizing Beppo in botharms, hugged and squeezed him till poor Beppo squeaked with surprise, andopened his red mouth and fairly gasped for breath. But Félix only huggedhim the harder, murmuring under his breath, "Bless thy little heart, Beppo! Bless thy little heart!" For in a vague way he realized that thetruant lamb had somehow brought him his heart's desire, and that was quiteenough Christmas happiness for one year. 

And the little Lady Elinor was right, too. Years after, when Félix grew tobe a man, he did, in very truth, become a "famous carver, " as she haddeclared. 

Far surpassing his first master, the Père Videau, he traveled and workedin many cities; yet never, through all his long life, did he forget thatChristmas Eve in the little village of Sur Varne. 

Those who knew him best said that among his dearest treasures he alwayskept a beautifully carved little box, and in it a bit of faded crimsonribbon from the looms of Lyons. While, as for Beppo--well, if ever somehappy day you chance to visit the lovely land of Provence, perhaps youwill see a certain grand old cathedral in the ancient city of Arles; and, if you do, look sharp at the figure of a lamb chiseled in white stone overthe great portal. Look well, I say, for Félix, when he carved it, wouldhave told you that he was thinking all the while of his little pet lambBeppo. 

THE SABOT OF LITTLE WOLFF

FRANÇOIS COPPÉE

Once upon a time, --it was so long ago that the whole world has forgottenthe date, --in a city in the north of Europe, whose name is so difficult topronounce that nobody remembers it, --once upon a time there was a littleboy of seven, named Wolff. He was an orphan in charge of an old aunt whowas hard and avaricious, who only kissed him on New Year's Day, and whobreathed a sigh of regret every time that she gave him a porringer ofsoup. 

But the poor little lad was naturally so good that he loved his aunt justthe same, although she frightened him very much; and he could never seeher without trembling, for fear she would whip him. 

As the aunt of Wolff was known through all the village to have a house andan old stocking full of gold, she did not dare send her nephew to theschool for the poor, but she obtained a reduction of the price with theschoolmaster whose school little Wolff attended. The teacher, vexed athaving a scholar so badly dressed and who paid so poorly, often punishedhim unjustly, and even set his fellow-pupils against him. 

The poor little fellow was therefore as miserable as the stones in thestreet, and hid himself in out-of-the-way corners to cry when Christmascame. 

The night before Christmas the schoolmaster was to take all of his pupilsto church, and bring them back to their homes. As the winter was verysevere that year, and as for several days a great quantity of snow hadfallen, the children came to the master's house warmly wrapped and bundledup, with fur caps pulled down over their ears, double and triple jackets, knitted gloves and mittens, and good, thick-nailed boots with strongsoles. Only little Wolff came shivering in the clothes that he woreweek-days and Sundays, and with nothing on his feet but coarse Strasbourgsocks and heavy sabots, or wooden shoes. 

His thoughtless comrades made a thousand jests over his forlorn looks andhis peasant's dress; but little Wolff was so occupied in blowing on hisfingers to keep them warm, that he took no notice of the boys or what theysaid. 

The troop of boys, with their master at their head, started for thechurch. As they went they talked of the fine suppers that were waitingthem at home. The son of the burgomaster had seen, before he went out, amonstrous goose that the truffles marked with black spots like a leopard. At the house of one of the boys there was a little fir tree in a woodenbox, from whose branches hung oranges, sweetmeats and toys. 

The children spoke, too, of what the Christ-child would bring to them, andwhat he would put in their shoes, which they would, of course, be verycareful to leave in the chimney before going to bed. And the eyes of thoselittle boys, lively as a parcel of mice, sparkled in advance with the joyof seeing in their imagination pink paper bags filled with cakes, leadsoldiers drawn up in battalions in their boxes, menageries smelling ofvarnished wood, and magnificent jumping-jacks covered with purple andbells. 

Little Wolff knew very well by experience that his old aunt would send himsupperless to bed; but, knowing that all the year he had been as good andindustrious as possible, he hoped that the Christ-child would not forgethim, and he, too, looked eagerly forward to putting his wooden shoes inthe ashes of the fireplace. 

When the service was ended, every one went away, anxious for his supper, and the band of children, walking two by two after their teacher, left thechurch. 

In the porch, sitting on a stone seat under a Gothic niche, a child wassleeping--a child who was clad in a robe of white linen, and whose feetwere bare, notwithstanding the cold. He was not a beggar, for his robe wasnew and fresh, and near him on the ground was seen a square, a hatchet, apair of compasses, and the other tools of a carpenter's apprentice. Underthe light of the stars, his face bore an expression of divine sweetness, and his long locks of golden hair seemed like an aureole about his head. But the child's feet, blue in the cold of that December night, were sad tosee. 

The children, so well clothed and shod for the winter, passed heedlesslybefore the unknown child. One of them, the son of one of the principal menin the village, looked at the waif with an expression in which no pitycould be seen. 

But little Wolff, coming the last out of the church, stopped, full ofcompassion, before the beautiful sleeping child. "Alas!" said the orphanto himself, "it is too bad that this poor little one has to go barefoot insuch bad weather. But what is worse than all, he has not even a boot or awooden shoe to leave before him while he sleeps to-night, so that theChrist-child could put something there to comfort him in his misery. "

And, carried away by the goodness of his heart, little Wolff took off thewooden shoe from his right foot, and laid it in front of the sleepingchild. Then, limping along on his poor blistered foot and dragging hissock through the snow, he went back to his aunt's house. 

"Look at that worthless fellow!" cried his aunt, full of anger at hisreturn without one of his shoes. "What have you done with your woodenshoe, little wretch?"

Little Wolff did not know how to deceive, and although he was shaking withterror, he tried to stammer out some account of his adventure. 

The old woman burst into a frightful peal of laughter. "Ah, monsieur takesoff his shoes for beggars! Ah, monsieur gives away his wooden shoes to abarefoot! This is something new! Ah, well, since that is so, I am going toput the wooden shoe which you have left in the chimney, and I promise youthe Christ-child will leave there to-night something to whip you with inthe morning. And you shall pass the day to-morrow on dry bread and water. We will see if next time you give away your shoe to the first vagabondthat comes. "

Then the aunt, after having given the poor boy a couple of slaps, made himclimb up to his bed in the attic. Grieved to the heart, the child went tobed in the dark, and soon went to sleep, his pillow wet with tears. 

On the morrow morning, when the old woman went downstairs--oh, wonderfulsight!--she saw the great chimney full of beautiful playthings, and sacksof magnificent candies, and all sorts of good things; and before all thesesplendid things the right shoe, that her nephew had given to the littlewaif, stood by the side of the left shoe, that she herself had put therethat very night, and where she meant to put a birch rod. 

As little Wolff, running down to learn the meaning of his aunt'sexclamation, stood in artless ecstasy before all these splendid gifts, suddenly there were loud cries and laughter out of doors. The old womanand the little boy went out to know what it all meant, and saw theneighbors gathered around the public fountain. What had happened? Oh, something very amusing and extraordinary! The children of all the richpeople of the village, those whose parents had wished to surprise themwith the most beautiful gifts, had found only rods in their shoes. 

Then the orphan and the old woman, thinking of all the beautiful thingsthat were in their chimney, were full of amazement. But presently they sawthe curé coming toward them, with wonder in his face. In the church porch, where in the evening a child, clad in a white robe, and with bare feet, had rested his sleeping head, the curé had just seen a circle of goldincrusted with precious stones. 

Then the people understood that the beautiful sleeping child, near whomwere the carpenter's tools, was the Christ-child in person, become for anhour such as he was when he worked in his parents' house, and they bowedthemselves before that miracle that the good God had seen fit to work, toreward the faith and charity of a child. 

THE LITTLE FRIEND

ABBIE FARWELL BROWN

"Oh! I am so cold, so cold!" sobbed little Pierre, as he stumbled throughthe snow which was drifting deep upon the mountain side. "Oh, I am socold! The snow bites my face and blinds me, so that I cannot see the road. Where are all the Christmas candle-lights? The people of the village musthave forgotten. The little Jesus will lose His way to-night. I neverforgot to set our window at home full of lights on Christmas Eve. But nowit is Christmas Eve, and there is no home any more. And I am so cold, socold!"

Little Pierre sobbed again and stumbled in the snow, which was driftingdeeper and deeper upon the mountain side. This was the stormiest ChristmasEve which had been seen for years, and all the little boys who had goodhomes were hugging themselves close to the fire, glad that they were notout in the bleak night. Every window was full of flickering tapers tolight the expected Holy Child upon His way through the village to thechurch. But little Pierre had strayed so far from the road that he couldnot see these rows and rows of tiny earth-stars, any more than he couldsee through the snow the far-off sky-stars which the angels had lightedalong the streets of heaven. 

Pierre was on his way to the village from the orphan boys' home at theAbbé's charity school. And that was not like a happy real home, for thelittle Brothers were rough and rude and far from loving one another. Hehad started at dusk from the school, hoping to be at the village churchbefore curfew. For Pierre had a sweet little voice, and he was to earn afew pennies by singing in the choir on Christmas morning. But it wasgrowing late. The church would be closed and the Curé gone home beforePierre could reach it; and then what should he do?

The snow whirled faster and faster, and Pierre's legs found it harder andharder to move themselves through the great drifts. They seemed heavy andnumb, and he was growing oh, so tired! If he could but lie down to sleepuntil Christmas Day! But he knew that he must not do that. For those whochoose this kind of soft and tempting bed turn into ice-people, and do notwake up in the morning. So he bent his head and tried to plough on throughthe drifts. 

Whish! A soft white thing flapped through the snow and struck Pierre inthe face, so that he staggered and almost lost his balance. The nextmoment he had caught the thing as it fell and was holding it tenderly inhis numb hands. It was a beautiful dove, white as the snow from which itseemed to come. It had been whirled about by the storm until it had loststrength to fly, and it now lay quite still, with closed eyes. Pierrestroked the ruffled feathers gently and blew upon its cold body, trying tobring it back to life. 

"Poor bird!" he said softly. "You are lost in the snow, like me. I willtry to keep you warm, though I am myself a cold little body. " He put thebird under his jacket, holding it close to his heart. Presently the doveopened its eyes and stirred feebly, giving a faint "Coo!"

"I wish I had something for you to eat, poor bird, " said Pierre, forgetting his own cold and hunger. "If I could but take you into my ownhouse and feed you as I used to feed the birds upon Christmas Eve! But nowI have no home myself, and I can scarcely keep you warm. "

Pierre shivered and tried to move forward. But the storm seemed to groweven fiercer, and the wind blew so keenly in his face that he couldscarcely stand. "I cannot go another step, " he said, and down he sank inthe snow, which began to cover him with a downy blanket, pretending to bea careful mother. He hugged the bird closer and began to feel afraid. Heknew that he was in great danger. "Dear Dove, " he whispered, "I am sorrythat I cannot save you. We shall turn into ice-images together. But I willkeep you warm as long as I can. " Then he closed his eyes, for he was verysleepy. 

In a little while something made Pierre open his eyes. At first he couldsee only the whirling snow, which seemed to be everywhere. But presentlyhe found that some one was bending over him, with face close to his; someone chubby and rosy and young, --a child like himself, but more beautifulthan any child whom Pierre had ever seen. He stared hard at the face whichseemed to smile at him through the snow, not minding the cold. 

"You have my dove inside your coat, " said the Child, pointing. "I lost herin the storm. Give her to me. "

Pierre held his coat the closer. "She was cold, " he answered. "She wasdying in the snow. I am trying to keep her warm. "

"But she is warm when she is with me, though I have no coat to wrap herin, " said the Child. And, indeed, he was clad only in a little shirt, withhis rosy legs quite bare. Yet he looked not cold. A brightness glowedabout him, and his breath seemed to warm the air. Pierre saw that, thoughit was still snowing beyond them, there were no whirling flakes betweenhim and the Child. 

The little Stranger held out his hand once more. "Please give me thedove, " he begged. "I must hasten on my way to the village yonder. The dovestrayed from my bosom and was lost. You found her here, far from the road. Thank you, little boy. Are you often so kind to poor lost birds!"

"Why, they are the Lord's own birds!" cried little Pierre. "How should onenot be kind and love them dearly? On the Lord's birthday eve, too! It islittle that I could do for this one, --I who have saved and fed so many onother Christmas Eves. Alas, I wish I was back in those good old days ofthe wheat-sheaf and the full pan of milk and the bright warm fire!"Pierre's eyes filled with tears. 

"What! Did you set a sheaf of wheat for the birds on Christmas Eve?" askedthe Child, drawing closer and bending kindly eyes upon Pierre. 

Now the boy saw that where the Stranger stood the snow had melted allaway, so that they were inclosed in a little space like a downy nest, which seemed almost warm to his limbs. 

"Yes, I set out a wheat-sheaf, " said Pierre simply. "Why not? I love allthe little creatures whom our Lord Himself so dearly loved, and to whom Hebade us be kind. On Christmas Eve especially I always tried to make happythose which He sent in my way, --poor little wanderers as well as our ownfriends at home. "

The Child drew yet closer and sat down in the snow beside Pierre. Hisbeautiful eyes shone like stars, and his voice was like sweet music. "What, " he said, "you are the boy who stood in the doorway with a pan ofbread and milk, --part of your own supper, --and called the hungry kitten tofeast? You are the same who tossed a bone to the limping dog and made hima bed in the stable? You stroked the noses of the ox and the ass and saidgentle things to them, because they were the first friends of the littleJesus? You set the sheaf of wheat for the snow-birds, and they lighted uponyour hands and shoulders and kissed your lips in gratitude? You are thatboy, friend of God's friends. No wonder that my white dove flew to you outof the storm. She knew, she knew!"

The Child bent near and kissed Pierre on the cheeks, so that they grewrosy, and the warm blood went tingling through his little cold limbs. Sitting up, he said: "Yes, I am that boy who last year was so happybecause he could do these pleasant things. But how do you know, littleStranger? How did you see?"

"Oh, I know, I saw!" cried the Child, gleefully clapping his hands as achild will. "I was there. I passed through the village last Christmas Eve, and I saw it all. But tell me now, how do you come here, dear boy? Why areyou not in that happy home this stormy night, once more making the Lord'screatures happy?"

Pierre told all to the Child: how his dear father and mother had died andleft him alone in the world; how the home had been sold, and now he livedin the charity school kept by the good Abbé; how he had learned of thechance to earn a few pennies by singing on Christmas Day in theneighboring village church, which lacked a voice among the choir-boys; howhe was on his way thither when the storm had hidden the road, and he hadgrown so cold, so cold!

"Then your dove came to me, little Stranger, " Pierre concluded. "She came, and I folded her in my jacket to keep her warm. But, do you know, it mustbe that she has kept _me_ warm. Although I could walk no further, I am notcold at all, nor frightened, and no longer hungry. Sit close to me, littleStranger. You shall share my jacket, too, and we will all three warm oneanother. "

The Child laughed again, a low, soft, silvery laugh, like a happy brookslipping over the pebbles. "I am not cold, " he said. "I cannot stay withyou. I must go yonder. " And he pointed through the snow. 

"Whither, oh, whither?" cried Pierre eagerly. "Let me go with you. I amlost; but if you know the way we can go together, hand in hand. "

The Child shook his head. "Not so, " he said. "I do not follow the path, and your feet would stumble. I shall find a way without sinking in thesnow. I must go alone. But there is a better way for you. I leave my dovewith you: she will keep you warm until help comes. Farewell, friend of theLord's friends. " Stooping the Child kissed Pierre once more, upon theforehead. Then, before the boy saw how he went, he had vanished from thelittle nest of snow, without leaving a footprint behind. 

Now the dove, clasped close to Pierre's heart, seemed to warm him like alittle fire within; and the Child's kiss on his forehead made him sohappy, but withal so drowsy, that he smiled as he closed his eyes oncemore repeating, "'Until help comes. ' 'There is a better way' for me. "

II

On the side of the mountain, away from the village street, perched thelittle hut of Grandfather Viaud. And here, on Christmas Eve, sat the oldman and his wife, looking very sad and lonely. For there was no sound ofchildish laughter in the little hut, no patter of small feet, nowhispering of Christmas secrets. The little Viauds had long since grown upand flown away to build nests of their own in far-off countries. PoorJosef Viaud and old Bettine were quite alone this Christmas Eve, save forthe Saint Bernard who was stretched out before the fire, covering half thefloor with his huge bulk, like a furry rug. He was the very Prince ofdogs, as his name betokened, and he was very good to Grandfather andGrandmother, who loved him dearly. But on Christmas Eve even the littlestcottage, crowded with the biggest tenants, seems lonely unless there arechildren in the corners. 

The Viauds sat silently gazing into the fire, with scarcely a word foreach other, scarcely a caress for faithful Prince. Indeed, the great doghimself seemed to know that something was lacking, and every once in awhile would lift his head and whine wistfully. 

In each of the two small windows burned a row of candles, flickering inthe draught that blew down the great chimney and swept through the littlechamber. And these, with the crackling blaze upon the hearth, sent queershadows quivering up the smoky walls. 

Grandfather Viaud looked over his shoulder as a great gust blew the ashesinto the room. "Hey!" he cried. "I almost fancied the shadow of onelooking in at the window. Ha, ha! What foolishness! Eh! but it is afearsome storm. Pray the good Lord that there may be no poor creatureswandering on the mountain this night. "

"The Lord's birthday, too!" said Grandmother Bettine. "The dear littleChild has a cold way to come. Even He might become confused and be drivento wander by such a whirl of snow. I am glad that we set the tapers there, Josef, even though we be so far from the village street down which theysay He passes. How pleasant to think that one might give light to Hisblessed feet if they were wandering from the way, --the dear little Child'sfeet, so rosy and soft and tender!" And good Grandmother Viaud dropped atear upon her knitting; for she remembered many such little feet that hadonce pattered about the cottage floor. Prince lifted his head and seemedto listen, then whined as he had done before. 

"You are lonely, old fellow, are you not?" quavered old Josef. "You arewaiting for the children to come back and make it merry, as it used to bein the old days when you were a pup. Heigho! Those were pleasant days, butthey will never come again, Prince. We are all growing old, we threetogether. "

"Ah, peace, Josef, peace!" cried old Bettine, wiping her eyes again. "Itis lonely enough and sad enough, God knows, without speaking of it. Whatuse to sigh for that which cannot be? If the good Lord wished us to have acomforter in our old age, doubtless He would send us one. He knows how wehave longed and prayed that a child's feet might echo through our houseonce more: how we have hoped from year to year that one of thegrandchildren might return to bless us with his little presence. " At thismoment Prince jumped to his feet with a low bark, and stood trembling, with pointed ears. 

"What dost thou hear, old dog?" asked the Grandfather carelessly. "Thereis naught human abroad this night, I warrant you. All wise folk arehugging the fire like us. Only those bad spirits of Christmas Eve arehowling about for mischief, they say. Best keep away from the door, oldPrince, lest they nip your toes or bite your nose for spite. "

"Hush!" cried the Grandmother, laying her hand upon his arm. "You forget:there is the Other One abroad. It may be that He--"

She was interrupted by Prince, who ran eagerly to the door and begansniffing at the latch in great excitement. Then he gave a long, low howl. At the same moment the latch rattled, and the Viauds distinctly heard alittle voice cry, "Open, open, good people!"

The old couple looked at each other; the cheeks of one flushed, and theother's paled. At the same moment they rose stiffly from their chairs bythe fire. But Grandmother Bettine was first at the door. She lifted thelatch, the door blew open violently, and with a loud bark Prince dashedout into the storm. 

"What is it? Who is there?" cried Josef Viaud, peering over his wife'sshoulder. But no one answered save the rough storm, which fiercely blewinto the faces of the old couple, whirling and screaming about theirheads. "H'm! It was only a fancy, " muttered the old man. "Come in, Mother. Come, Prince!" and he whistled out into the storm. But the wind whistledtoo, drowning his voice, and Prince did not return. "He is gone!" criedJosef impatiently. "It is some evil spirit's work. "

"Nay, Father!" and, as she spoke, the door banged violently in Josef'sface, as if to emphasize the good wife's rebuke. "It was a little child; Iheard it, " insisted Bettine, as they staggered back to the fire and sankweakly into their chairs. "Perhaps it was the Holy Child Himself, whoknows? But why would He not enter? Why, Josef! Oh, I fear we were not goodenough!"

"I only know that we have perhaps lost our good dog. Why did you open thedoor, Bettine?" grumbled Josef sleepily. 

"Prince is not lost. For what was he bred a snow-dog upon the mountains ifa storm like this be danger to him? He is of the race that rescues, thatfinds and is never lost. Mayhap the Holy Child had work for him thisnight. Ah, the Little One! If I could but have seen Him for one moment!"And good Bettine's head nodded drowsily on her chair-back. Presently theold couple were fast asleep. 

Now when they had been dreaming strange things for some time, there came ascratching at the door, and a loud bark which woke them suddenly. 

"What was that?" exclaimed Grandfather, starting nervously. "Ho, Prince!Are you without there?" and he ran to the door, while Grandmother wasstill rubbing from her eyes the happy dream which had made themmoist, --the dream of a rosy, radiant Child who was to be the care andcomfort of a lonely cottage. And then, before she had fairly wakenedfrom the dream, Prince bounded into the room and laid before the fire ather feet a soft, snow-wrapped bundle, from which hung a pale little facewith golden hair. 

"It is the Child of my dream!" cried Bettine. "The Holy One has come backto us. "

"Nay, this is no dream-child, mother. This is a little human fellow, nearly frozen to death, " exclaimed Josef Viaud, pulling the bundle towardthe fire. "Come, Bettine, let us take off his snow-stiff clothes and getsome little garments from the chests yonder. I will give him a draught ofsomething warm, and rub the life into his poor little hands and feet. Wehave both been dreaming, it seems. But certainly this is no dream!"

"Look! The dove!" cried Grandmother, taking the bird from the child'sbosom, where it still nestled, warm and warming. "Josef! I believe it isindeed the Holy Child Himself, " she whispered. "He bears a dove in hisbosom, like the image in the Church. " But even as she spoke the dovefluttered in her fingers, then, with a gentle "Coo-roo!" whirled onceabout the little chamber and darted out at the door, which they hadforgotten quite to close. With that the child opened his eyes. 

"The dove is gone!" he cried. "Yet I am warm. Why--has the little Strangercome once more?" Then he saw the kind old faces bent over him, and feltPrince's warm kisses on his hands and cheeks, with the fire flickeringpleasantly beyond. 

"It is like coming home again!" he murmured, and with his head onBettine's shoulder dropped comfortably to sleep. 

On the morrow all the village went to see the image of the Christ Childlying in a manger near the high altar of the church. It was a sweet littleChild in a white shirt, clasping in his hands a dove. They believed him tohave come in the stormy night down the village street. And they were gladthat their pious candles in the windows had guided Him safely on the road. But little Pierre, while he sang in the choir, and his adopted parents, the Viauds, kneeling happily below, had sweet thoughts of a dream whichhad brought them all together. 

Who knows but that Prince at home happily guarding Pierre's snow-wet oldshoes--who knows but that Prince was dreaming the happiest dream of all?For only Prince knew how and where and under what guidance he had foundthe little friend of the Lord's friends sleeping in the snow, with but awhite dove in his bosom to keep him from becoming a boy of ice. 

WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO

COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOÏ

In a certain city dwelt Martin Avdyeeich, the cobbler. He lived in acellar, a wretched little hole with a single window. The window looked uptowards the street, and through it Martin could just see the passers-by. It is true that he could see little more than their boots, but MartinAvdyeeich could read a man's character by his boots, so he needed no more. Martin Avdyeeich had lived long in that one place, and had manyacquaintances. Few indeed were the boots in that neighborhood which hadnot passed through his hands at some time or other. On some he wouldfasten new soles, to others he would give side-pieces, others again hewould stitch all round, and even give them new uppers if need be. Andoften he saw his own handiwork through the window. There was always lotsof work for him, for Avdyeeich's hand was cunning and his leather good;nor did he overcharge, and he always kept his word. He always engaged todo a job by a fixed time if he could; but if he could not, he said so atonce, and deceived no man. So every one knew Avdyeeich, and he had no lackof work. Avdyeeich had always been a pretty good man, but as he grew oldhe began to think more about his soul, and draw nearer to his God. WhileMartin was still a journeyman his wife had died; but his wife had left hima little boy--three years old. Their other children had not lived. All theeldest had died early. Martin wished at first to send his little childinto the country to his sister, but afterwards he thought better of it. "My Kapitoshka, " thought he, "will feel miserable in a strange household. He shall stay here with me. " And so Avdyeeich left his master, and took toliving in lodgings alone with his little son. But God did not giveAvdyeeich happiness in his children. No sooner had the little one begun togrow up and be a help and a joy to his father's heart, than a sicknessfell upon Kapitoshka, the little one took to his bed, lay there in araging fever for a week, and then died. Martin buried his son indespair--so desperate was he that he began to murmur against God. Suchdisgust of life overcame him that he more than once begged God that hemight die; and he reproached God for taking not him, an old man, but hisdarling, his only son, instead. And after that Avdyeeich left off goingto church. 

And lo! one day, there came to Avdyeeich from the Troitsa Monastery, anaged peasant-pilgrim--it was already the eighth year of his pilgrimage. Avdyeeich fell a-talking with him and began to complain of his greatsorrow. "As for living any longer, thou man of God, " said he, "I desire itnot. Would only that I might die! That is my sole prayer to God. I am nowa man who has no hope. "

And the old man said to him: "Thy speech, Martin, is not good. How shallwe judge the doings of God? God's judgments are not our thoughts. Godwilled that thy son shouldst die, but that thou shouldst live. Therefore'twas the best thing both for him and for thee. It is because thou wouldstfain have lived for thy own delight that thou dost now despair. "

"But what then _is_ a man to live for?" asked Avdyeeich. 

And the old man answered: "For God, Martin! He gave thee life, and for Himtherefore must thou live. When thou dost begin to live for Him, thou wiltgrieve about nothing more, and all things will come easy to thee. "

Martin was silent for a moment, and then he said: "And how must one livefor God?"

"Christ hath shown us the way. Thou knowest thy letters. Buy the Gospelsand read; there thou wilt find out how to live for God. There everythingis explained. "

These words made the heart of Avdyeeich burn within him, and he went thesame day and bought for himself a New Testament printed in very largetype, and began to read. 

Avdyeeich set out with the determination to read it only on holidays; butas he read, it did his heart so much good that he took to reading it everyday. And the second time he read until all the kerosene in the lamp hadburnt itself out, and for all that he could not tear himself away from thebook. And so it was every evening. And the more he read, the more clearlyhe understood what God wanted of him, and how it behooved him to live forGod; and his heart grew lighter and lighter continually. Formerly, whenever he lay down to sleep he would only sigh and groan, and think ofnothing but Kapitoshka, but now he would only say to himself: "Glory toThee! Glory to Thee, O Lord! Thy will be done!"

Henceforth the whole life of Avdyeeich was changed. Formerly, whenever hehad a holiday, he would go to the tavern to drink tea, nor would he say noto a drop of brandy now and again. He would tipple with his comrades, andthough not actually drunk, would, for all that, leave the inn a bit merry, babbling nonsense and talking loudly and censoriously. He had done withall that now. His life became quiet and joyful. With the morning light hesat down to his work, worked out his time, then took down his lamp fromthe hook, placed it on the table, took down his book from the shelf, bentover it, and sat him down to read. And the more he read the more heunderstood, and his heart grew brighter and happier. 

It happened once that Martin was up reading till very late. He was readingSt. Luke's Gospel. He was reading the sixth chapter, and as he read hecame to the words: "And to him that smiteth thee on the one cheek, offeralso the other. " This passage he read several times, and presently he cameto that place where the Lord says: "And why call ye me Lord, Lord, and donot the things which I say? Whosoever cometh to Me, and heareth Mysayings, and doeth them, I will show you to whom he is like. He is like aman which built an house, and dug deep, and laid the foundations on arock. And when the flood arose, the storm beat vehemently upon that house, and could not shake it, for it was founded upon a rock. But he thatheareth, and doeth not, is like a man that without a foundation built anhouse upon the earth, against which the stream did beat vehemently, andimmediately it fell, and the ruin of that house was great. "

Avdyeeich read these words through and through, and his heart was glad. Hetook off his glasses, laid them on the book, rested his elbow on thetable, and fell a-thinking. And he began to measure his own life by thesewords. And he thought to himself, "Is my house built on the rock or on thesand? How good to be as on a rock! How easy it all seems to thee sittingalone here. It seems as if thou wert doing God's will to the full, and sothou takest no heed and fallest away again. And yet thou wouldst go onstriving, for so it is good for thee. O Lord, help me!" Thus thought he, and would have laid him down, but it was a grief to tear himself away fromthe book. And so he began reading the seventh chapter. He read all aboutthe Centurion, he read all about the Widow's Son, he read all about theanswer to the disciples of St. John; and so he came to that place wherethe rich Pharisee invites our Lord to be his guest. And he read all abouthow the woman who was a sinner anointed His feet and washed them with hertears, and how He justified her. And so he came at last to the forty-fourthverse, and there he read these words, "And He turned to the woman andsaid to Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thougavest Me no water for My feet; but she has washed My feet with tears andwiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest Me no kiss, but thiswoman, since the time I came in, hath not ceased to kiss My feet. Minehead with oil thou didst not anoint. "

And again Avdyeeich took off his glasses, and laid them on the book, andfell a-thinking. 

"So it is quite plain that I too have something of the Pharisee about me. Am I not always thinking of myself? Am I not always thinking of drinkingtea, and keeping myself as warm and cozy as possible, without thinking atall about the guest? Simon thought about himself, but did not give theslightest thought to his guest. But who was the guest? The Lord Himself. And suppose He were to come to me, should I treat Him as the Phariseedid?"

And Avdyeeich leaned both his elbows on the table and, without perceivingit, fell a-dozing. 

"Martin!"--it was as though the voice of some one close to his ear. 

Martin started up from his nap. "Who's there?"

He turned round, he gazed at the door, but there was no one. Again hedozed off. Suddenly he heard quite plainly, "Martin, Martin, I say! Lookto-morrow into the street. I am coming. "

Martin awoke, rose from his chair, and began to rub his eyes. And he didnot know himself whether he had heard these words asleep or awake. Heturned down the lamp and laid him down to rest. 

At dawn next day, Avdyeeich arose, prayed to God, lit his stove, got readyhis gruel and cabbage soup, filled his samovar, put on his apron, and sathim down by his window to work. There Avdyeeich sits and works, and thinksof nothing but the things of yesternight. His thoughts were divided. Hethought at one time that he must have gone off dozing, and then again hethought he really must have heard that voice. It might have been so, thought he. 

Martin sits at the window and looks as much at his window as at his work, and whenever a strange pair of boots passes by he bends forward and looksout of the window, so as to see the face as well as the feet of thepassers-by. The house porter passed by in new felt boots, thewater-carrier passed by, and after that there passed close to the windowan old soldier, one of Nicholas's veterans, in tattered old boots, with ashovel in his hands. Avdyeeich knew him by his boots. The old fellow wascalled Stepanuich, and lived with the neighboring shopkeeper, whoharbored him of his charity. His duty was to help the porter. Stepanuichstopped before Avdyeeich's window to sweep away the snow. Avdyeeich cast aglance at him, and then went on working as before. 

"I'm not growing sager as I grow older, " thought Avdyeeich, with someself-contempt. "I make up my mind that Christ is coming to me, and lo!'tis only Stepanuich clearing away the snow. Thou simpleton, thou! thouart wool-gathering!" Then Avdyeeich made ten more stitches, and then hestretched his head once more towards the window. He looked through thewindow again, and there he saw that Stepanuich had placed the shovelagainst the wall, and was warming himself and taking breath a bit. 

"The old man is very much broken, " thought Avdyeeich to himself. "It isquite plain that he has scarcely strength enough to scrape away the snow. Suppose I make him drink a little tea! the samovar, too, is just on theboil. " Avdyeeich put down his awl, got up, placed the samovar on thetable, put some tea in it, and tapped on the window with his fingers. Stepanuich turned round and came to the window. Avdyeeich beckoned to him, and then went and opened the door. 

"Come in and warm yourself a bit, " cried he. "You're a bit chilled, eh?"

"Christ requite you! Yes, and all my bones ache too, " said Stepanuich. Stepanuich came in, shook off the snow, and began to wipe his feet so asnot to soil the floor, but he tottered sadly. 

"Don't trouble about wiping your feet. I'll rub it off myself. It's all inthe day's work. Come in and sit down, " said Avdyeeich. "Here, take a cupof tea. "

And Avdyeeich filled two cups, and gave one to his guest, and he pouredhis own tea out into the saucer and began to blow it. 

Stepanuich drank his cup, turned it upside down, put a gnawed crust on thetop of it, and said, "Thank you. " But it was quite plain that he wanted tobe asked to have some more. 

"Have a drop more. Do!" said Avdyeeich, and poured out fresh cups for hisguest and himself, and as Avdyeeich drank his cup, he could not helpglancing at the window from time to time. 

"Dost thou expect any one?" asked his guest. 

"Do I expect any one? Well, honestly, I hardly know. I am expecting and Iam not expecting, and there's a word which has burnt itself right into myheart. Whether it was a vision or no, I know not. Look now, my brother! Iwas reading yesterday about our little Father Christ, how He suffered, howHe came on earth. Hast thou heard of Him, eh?"

"I have heard, I have heard, " replied Stepanuich, "but we poor ignorantones know not our letters. "

"Anyhow, I was reading about this very thing--how He came down upon earth. I was reading how He went to the Pharisee, and how the Pharisee did notmeet Him half-way. That was what I was reading about yesternight, littlebrother mine. I read that very thing, and bethought me how the Honorabledid not receive our little Father Christ honorably. But suppose, Ithought, if He came to one like me--would I receive Him? Simon at any ratedid not receive Him at all. Thus I thought, and so thinking, fell asleep. I fell asleep, I say, little brother mine, and I heard my name called. Istarted up. A voice was whispering at my very ear. 'Look out to-morrow!' itsaid, 'I am coming. ' And so it befell twice. Now look! wouldst thoubelieve it? the idea stuck to me--I scold myself for my folly, and yet Ilook for Him, our little Father Christ!"

Stepanuich shook his head and said nothing, but he drank his cup dry andput it aside. Then Avdyeeich took up the cup and filled it again. 

"Drink some more. 'Twill do thee good. Now it seems to me that when ourlittle Father went about on earth, He despised no one, but sought unto thesimple folk most of all. He was always among the simple folk. Thosedisciples of His too, He chose most of them from amongst ourbrother-laborers, sinners like unto us. He that exalteth himself, He says, shall be abased, and he that abaseth himself shall be exalted. Ye, says He, call me Lord, and I, says He, wash your feet. He who would be the firstamong you, He says, let him become the servant of all. And therefore it isthat He says, Blessed are the lowly, the peacemakers, the humble, and thelong-suffering. "

Stepanuich forgot his tea. He was an old man, soft-hearted, and tearful. He sat and listened, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. 

"Come, drink a little more, " said Avdyeeich. But Stepanuich crossedhimself, expressed his thanks, pushed away his cup, and got up. 

"I thank thee, Martin Avdyeeich. I have fared well at thy hands, and thouhast refreshed me both in body and soul. "

"Thou wilt show me a kindness by coming again. I am so glad to have aguest, " said Avdyeeich. Stepanuich departed, and Martin poured out thelast drop of tea, drank it, washed up, and again sat down by the window towork--he had some back-stitching to do. He stitched and stitched, and nowand then cast glances at the window--he was looking for Christ, and couldthink of nothing but Him and His works. And the divers sayings of Christwere in his head all the time. 

Two soldiers passed by, one in regimental boots, the other in boots ofhis own making; after that, the owner of the next house passed by innicely brushed goloshes. A baker with a basket also passed by. All thesepassed by in turn, and then there came alongside the window a woman inworsted stockings and rustic shoes, and as she was passing by shestopped short in front of the partition wall. Avdyeeich looked up at herfrom his window, and he saw that the woman was a stranger and poorlyclad, and that she had a little child with her. She was leaning upagainst the wall with her back to the wind, and tried to wrap the childup, but she had nothing to wrap it up with. The woman wore summerclothes, and thin enough they were. And from out of his corner Avdyeeichheard the child crying and the woman trying to comfort it, but she couldnot. Then Avdyeeich got up, went out of the door and on to the steps, and cried, "My good woman! My good woman!"

The woman heard him and turned round. "Why dost thou stand out in thecold there with the child? Come inside! In the warm room thou wilt bebetter able to tend him. This way!"

The woman was amazed. What she saw was an old fellow in an apron andwith glasses on his nose calling to her. She came towards him. They wentdown the steps together--they went into the room. The old man led thewoman to the bed. "There, " said he, "sit down, gossip, nearer to thestove, and warm and feed thy little one.... "

He went to the table, got some bread and a dish, opened the oven door, put some cabbage soup into the dish, took out a pot of gruel, but it wasnot quite ready, so he put some cabbage soup only into the dish, andplaced it on the table. Then he fetched bread, took down the cloth fromthe hook, and spread it on the table. 

"Sit down and have something to eat, gossip, " said he, "and I will sitdown a little with the youngster. I have had children of my own, andknow how to manage them. " The woman crossed herself, sat down at thetable, and began to eat, and Avdyeeich sat down on the bed with thechild. Avdyeeich smacked his lips at him again and again, but his lackof teeth made it a clumsy joke at best. And all the time the child neverleft off shrieking. Then Avdyeeich hit upon the idea of shaking hisfinger at him, so he snapped his fingers up and down, backwards andforwards, right in front of the child's mouth. He did not put his fingerinto its mouth, because his finger was black and sticky with cobbler'swax. And the child stared at the finger and was silent, and presently itbegan to laugh. And Avdyeeich was delighted. But the woman went oneating, and told him who she was and whence she came. 

"I am a soldier's wife, " she said: "my eight months' husband they droveright away from me, and nothing has been heard of him since. I took acook's place till I became a mother. They could not keep me _and_ thechild. It is now three months since I have been drifting about withoutany fixed resting-place. I have eaten away my all. I wanted to be awet-nurse, but people wouldn't have me: 'Thou art too thin, ' they said. I have just been to the merchant's wife where our grandmother lives, andthere they promised to take me in. I thought it was all right, but shetold me to come again in a week. But she lives a long way off. I amchilled to death, and he is quite tired out. But God be praised! ourlandlady has compassion on us, and gives us shelter for Christ's sake. But for that I don't know how we could live through it all. "

Avdyeeich sighed, and said, "And have you no warm clothes?"

"Ah, kind friend! this is indeed warm-clothes time, but yesterday Ipawned away my last shawl for two _grivenki_. "

The woman went to the bed and took up the child, but Avdyeeich stood up, went to the wall cupboard, rummaged about a bit, and then brought backwith him an old jacket. 

"Look!" said he, "'tis a shabby thing, 'tis true, but it will do to wrapup in. "

The woman looked at the old jacket, then she gazed at the old man, and, taking the jacket, fell a-weeping. Avdyeeich also turned away, creptunder the bed, drew out a trunk and seemed to be very busy about it, whereupon he again sat down opposite the woman. 

Then the woman said: "Christ requite thee, dear little father! It isplain that it was He who sent me by thy window. When I first came out itwas warm, and now it has turned very cold. And He it was, little father, who made thee look out of the window and have compassion on wretchedme. "

Avdyeeich smiled slightly, and said: "Yes, He must have done it, for Ilooked not out of the window in vain, dear gossip!"

And Avdyeeich told his dream to the soldier's wife also, and how he hadheard a voice promising that the Lord should come to him that day. 

"All things are possible, " said the woman. Then she rose up, put on thejacket, wrapped it round her little one, and then began to curtsey andthank Avdyeeich once more. 

"Take this for Christ's sake, " said Avdyeeich, giving her a two-grivenkapiece, "and redeem your shawl. " The woman crossed herself, Avdyeeichcrossed himself, and then he led the woman to the door. 

The woman went away. Avdyeeich ate up the remainder of the cabbage soup, washed up, and again sat down to work. He worked on and on, but he didnot forget the window, and whenever the window was darkened heimmediately looked up to see who was passing. Acquaintances passed, strangers passed, but there was no one in particular. 

But now Avdyeeich sees how, right in front of his window, an old woman, a huckster, has taken her stand. She carries a basket of apples. Notmany now remained; she had evidently sold them nearly all. Across hershoulder she carried a sack full of shavings. She must have picked themup near some new building, and was taking them home with her. It wasplain that the sack was straining her shoulder. She wanted to shift iton to the other shoulder, so she rested the sack on the pavement, placedthe apple-basket on a small post, and set about shaking down theshavings in the sack. Now while she was shaking down the sack, an urchinin a ragged cap suddenly turned up, goodness knows from whence, grabbedat one of the apples in the basket, and would have made off with it, butthe wary old woman turned quickly round and gripped the youth by thesleeve. The lad fought and tried to tear himself loose, but the oldwoman seized him with both hands, knocked his hat off, and tugged hardat his hair. The lad howled, and the old woman reviled him. Avdyeeichdid not stop to put away his awl, but pitched it on the floor, rushedinto the courtyard, and in his haste stumbled on the steps and droppedhis glasses. Avdyeeich ran out into the street. The old woman wastugging at the lad's hair and wanted to drag him off to the police, while the boy fought and kicked. 

"I didn't take it, " said he. "What are you whacking me for? Let me go!"

Avdyeeich came up and tried to part them. He seized the lad by the armand said: "Let him go, little mother! Forgive him for Christ's sake!"

"I'll forgive him so that he shan't forget the taste of freshbirch-rods. I mean to take the rascal to the police station. " Avdyeeichbegan to entreat with the old woman. 

"Let him go, little mother; he will not do so any more. Let him go forChrist's sake. "

The old woman let him go. The lad would have bolted, but Avdyeeich heldhim fast. 

"Beg the little mother's pardon, " said he, "and don't do such things anymore. I saw thee take them. "

Then the lad began to cry and beg pardon. 

"Well, that's all right! And now, there's an apple for thee. " AndAvdyeeich took one out of the basket and gave it to the boy. "I'll paythee for it, little mother, " he said to the old woman. 

"Thou wilt ruin them that way, the blackguards, " said the old woman. "IfI had the rewarding of him, he should not be able to sit down for aweek. "

"Oh, little mother, little mother!" cried Avdyeeich, "that is our way oflooking at things, but it is not God's way. If we ought to be whipped sofor the sake of one apple, what do we deserve for our sins!"

The old woman was silent. 

And Avdyeeich told the old woman about the parable of the master whoforgave his servant a very great debt, and how that servant immediatelywent out and caught his fellow-servant by the throat because he was hisdebtor. The old woman listened to the end, and the lad listened too. 

"God bade us forgive, " said Avdyeeich, "otherwise He will not forgiveus. We must forgive every one, especially the thoughtless. "

The old woman shook her head and sighed. 

"That's all very well, " she said, "but they are spoiled enough already. "

"Then it is for us old people to teach them better, " said Avdyeeich. 

"So say I, " replied the old woman. "I had seven of them at one time, andnow I have but a single daughter left. " And the old woman began tellinghim where and how she lived with her daughter, and how manygrandchildren she had. "I'm not what I was, " she said, "but I work all Ican. I am sorry for my grandchildren, and good children they are, too. No one is so glad to see me as they are. Little Aksyutka will go to nonebut me. 'Grandma dear! darling grandma!'" and the old woman was meltedto tears. "As for him, " she added, pointing to the lad, "boys will beboys, I suppose. Well, God be with him!"

Now just as the old woman was about to hoist the sack on to hershoulder, the lad rushed forward and said:

"Give it here, and I'll carry it for thee, granny! It is all in my way. "

The old woman shook her head, but she did put the sack on the lad'sshoulder. 

And so they trudged down the street together side by side. And the oldwoman forgot to ask Avdyeeich for the money for the apple. Avdyeeichkept standing and looking after them, and heard how they talked to eachother, as they went, about all sorts of things. Avdyeeich followed themwith his eyes till they were out of sight, then he turned homewards andfound his glasses on the steps (they were not broken), picked up hisawl, and sat down to work again. He worked away for a little while, butsoon he was scarcely able to distinguish the stitches, and he saw thelamplighter going round to light the lamps. "I see it is time to lightup, " thought he, so he trimmed his little lamp, lighted it, and againsat down to work. He finished one boot completely, turned it round andinspected it. "Good!" he cried. He put away his tools, swept up thecuttings, removed the brushes and tips, put away the awl, took down thelamp, placed it on the table, and took down the Gospels from the shelf. He wanted to find the passage where he had last evening placed a stripof morocco leather by way of a marker, but he lit upon another place. And just as Avdyeeich opened the Gospel, he recollected his dream ofyesterday evening. And no sooner did he call it to mind than it seemedto him as if some persons were moving about and shuffling with theirfeet behind him. Avdyeeich glanced round and saw that somebody wasindeed standing in the dark corner--yes, some one was really there, butwho, he could not exactly make out. Then a voice whispered in his ear:

"Martin! Martin! dost thou not know me?"

"Who art thou!" cried Avdyeeich. 

"'Tis I, " cried the voice, "lo, 'tis I!" And forth from the dark cornerstepped Stepanuich. He smiled, and it was as though a little cloud werebreaking, and he was gone. 

"It is I!" cried the voice, and forth from the corner stepped a woman witha little child; and the woman smiled and the child laughed, and they alsodisappeared. 

"And it is I!" cried the voice, and the old woman and the lad with theapple stepped forth, and both of them smiled, and they also disappeared. 

And the heart of Avdyeeich was glad. He crossed himself, put on hisglasses, and began to read the Gospels at the place where he had openedthem. And at the top of the page He read these words: "And I was anhungered and thirsty, and ye gave Me to drink. I was a stranger and yetook Me in. "

And at the bottom of the page he read this: "Inasmuch as ye have done itto the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me. "

And Avdyeeich understood that his dream had not deceived him, and that theSaviour had really come to him that day, and he had really received Him. 

THE END. 

BOOKS

Edited by ELVA S. SMITH

Cataloguer of Children's Books, Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh

Illustrated Cloth

GOOD OLD STORIES for Boys and Girls

MYSTERY TALES for Boys and Girls

PEACE AND PATRIOTISM

HEROINES OF HISTORY AND LEGEND

MORE MYSTERY TALES for Boys and Girls

A BOOK OF LULLABIES

Edited by ELVA S. SMITH and

ALICE I. HAZELTINE

St. Louis Public Library

CHRISTMAS IN LEGEND AND STORY