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Stephanus paused, his face all aglow with the tale that he had been
telling. His eyes swept again the circuit of the moonlit hills and
were lifted reverently up to the sky.

"Did you ever see the Lord Christ after that?" asked Joseph.

"Once only. My father and I were at Jerusalem at the passover. It was
the year before my father died, seventeen years ago; it was the same
week on which our Lord was crucified. My father was then an aged
man--fourscore and five years old. Our tent was pitched on the slope
of the Mount of Olives, near the Bethany road. While we sat there one
morning, a great noise of shouting was heard, and presently we saw one
riding on an ass, followed by a great company, crying 'Hosanna!' As we
drew nearer, we heard them say that it was Jesus of Nazareth; and,
when we saw His face, we knew that it was He, by the wonderful eyes,
though it was the face of a bearded man, and not of an infant, and was
very pale and sad. As He drew near to our tent, the city came full
into His view, with its gilded roofs and marble pinnacles, blazing
under the morning sun. Suddenly He paused in the way, and we heard Him
weeping aloud, though we could not hear His words of lamentation. The
multitude halted, too, when we did; and the cheering ceased, and some
of those who stood nearest Him wept also, though no one seemed to know
what had caused His grief. But soon they went on again, and before
they reached the foot of the hill another multitude met them, coming
forth from the city, and we heard their shouts of 'Hosanna in the
Highest!' as they entered the gate of Jerusalem."

"What said your father when he saw all this?" queried Joseph.

"He said but little. There was a shadow on his face, yet he spoke
cheerfully. 'I cannot understand it,' he murmured. 'They are trying to
make Him King of the Jews; but King He will not be, at least not in
their fashion. Yet in some way I know He will be Prince and Deliverer.
I cannot understand, I will wait.'"

"Were you not in Jerusalem when He was put to death?"

"No. My father was frail and ill and we had hastened home to
Bethlehem. News of His death on the cross had only just reached us
when another messenger came to tell us that the sepulcher in which He
had been laid was empty; that He had risen from the dead.

"My father's eyes kindled when he heard this message. He cast aside
his staff and stood firm on his feet. His voice, when he spoke, rang
out like a trumpet. 'Blessed be the Lord God of Israel!' he cried. It
is thus that He redeemeth His people. This Jesus is not to be the
Captain of our armies, but the Savior of our souls. His kingdom is the
kingdom of righteousness, and therefore it is that the prophet hath
said: "Of the increase of His government and peace there shall be
no end."

"Always after that, words of the prophet concerning the Messiah kept
coming back to my father; and once and again he cried out: 'Truly,
this Jesus was the Son of God, the true King of Israel!' As the months
wore on, his words were more and more of the crucified and risen Lord,
and he dwelt in a great peace. At length, when the flocks were led
forth to the midwinter pasturage, he begged to go with me. It was on
this very day that we came, the same day of the year on which the Lord
was born. He was feeble and tottered as he walked; but he leaned on
my arm and we came slowly. In the evening he said: 'Let me go, my son,
and sit once more under the great rock.' I wrapped him in my coat of
skins, and sat here where I sit now and where he was sitting when the
angel came. We talked here long, under the stars, that night, of Him
whom we had learned to love as Master and Lord, of the works that He
had done and the words that He had spoken, as His disciples had told
of them. We had been silent for a few moments, when I looked up, and
saw that his head had fallen backward against the rock wall. I sprang
to him. His eyes were shut, but his lips were moving. I put my ear to
his mouth, and heard him say only: 'Peace--on--earth--good
will'--they were his last words. He had gone beyond our starlight,
into the country where the light always shines--the glory that fell
that night, fifty years ago, upon these hills of Bethlehem."

Stephanus was silent and Joseph's eyes were full of tears. At length
the old man rose.

"Come, my son," he said. "Cesil is in the south; it is midnight; let
us call your father and his brother. The old man and the boy have kept
their watch, and it is now time for rest."

[*] Used by permission of the Author.

THE STORY OF CHRISTMAS[*]

Nora A. Smith

"A great spiritual efficiency lies in story-telling".--_Froebel._

Christmas Day, you know, dear children, is Christ's day, Christ's
birthday, and I want to tell you why we love it so much, and why we
try to make every one happy when it comes each year.

A long, long time ago--more than eighteen hundred years--the baby
Christ was born on Christmas Day; a baby so wonderful and so
beautiful, who grew up to be a man so wise, so good, so patient and
sweet that, every year, the people who know about Him love Him better
and better, and are more and more glad when His birthday comes again.
You see that He must have been very good and wonderful; for people
have always remembered His birthday, and kept it lovingly for eighteen
hundred years.

He was born, long years ago, in a land far, far away across the seas.

Before the baby Christ was born, Mary, His mother, had to make a long
journey with her husband, Joseph. They made this journey to be taxed
or counted; for in those days this could not be done in the town where
people happened to live, but they must be numbered in the place where
they were born.

In that far-off time the only way of traveling was on a horse, or a
camel, or a good, patient donkey. Camels and horses cost a great deal
of money, and Mary was very poor; so she rode on a quiet, safe
donkey, while Joseph walked by her side, leading him and leaning on
his stick. Mary was very young, and beautiful, I think, but Joseph was
a great deal older than she.

People dress nowadays, in those distant countries, just as they did so
many years ago, so we know that Mary must have worn a long, thick
dress, falling all about her in heavy folds, and that she had a soft
white veil over her head and neck, and across her face. Mary lived in
Nazareth, and the journey they were making was to Bethlehem, many
miles away.

They were a long time traveling, I am sure; for donkeys are slow,
though they are so careful, and Mary must have been very tired before
they came to the end of their journey.

They had traveled all day, and it was almost dark when they came near
to Bethlehem, to the town where the baby Christ was to be born. There
was the place they were to stay,--a kind of inn, or lodging-house, but
not at all like those you know about.

They have them today in that far-off country, just as they built them
so many years ago.

It was a low, flat-roofed, stone building, with no windows and only
one large door. There were no nicely furnished bed rooms inside, and
no soft white beds for the tired travelers; there were only little
places built into the stones of the wall, something like the berths on
steamboats nowadays, and each traveler brought his own bedding. No
pretty garden was in front of the inn, for the road ran close to the
very door, so that its dust lay upon the doorsill. All around the
house, to a high, rocky hill at the back, a heavy stone fence was
built, so that the people and the animals inside might be kept safe.

Mary and Joseph could not get very near the inn; for the whole road in
front was filled with camels and donkeys and sheep and cows, while a
great many men were going to and fro, taking care of the animals. Some
of these people had come to Bethlehem to pay their taxes, as Mary and
Joseph had done, and others were staying for the night on their way to
Jerusalem, a large city a little further on.

The yard was filled, too, with camels and sheep; and men were lying on
the ground beside them, resting and watching and keeping them safe.
The inn was so full and the yard was so full of people that there was
no room for anybody else, and the keeper had to take Joseph and Mary
through the house and back to the high hill, where they found another
place that was used for a stable. This had only a door and front, and
deep caves were behind, stretching far into the rocks.

This was the spot where Christ was born. Think how poor a place!--but
Mary was glad to be there, after all; and when the Christ-child came,
He was like other babies, and had so lately come from heaven that He
was happy everywhere.

There were mangers all around the cave, where the cattle and sheep
were fed, and great heaps of hay and straw were lying on the floor.
Then, I think, there were brown-eyed cows and oxen there, and quiet,
woolly sheep, and perhaps even some dogs that had come in to take care
of the sheep.

And there in the cave, by and by, the wonderful baby came, and they
wrapped Him up and laid Him in a manger.

All the stars in the sky shone brightly that night, for they knew the
Christ-child was born, and the angels in heaven sang together for joy.
The angels knew about the lovely child, and were glad that He had come
to help the people on earth to be good.

There lay the beautiful baby, with a manger for His bed, and oxen and
sheep all sleeping quietly round Him. His mother watched Him and loved
Him, and by and by many people came to see Him, for they had heard
that a wonderful child was to be born in Bethlehem. All the people in
the inn visited Him, and even the shepherds left their flocks in the
fields and sought the child and His mother.

But the baby was very tiny, and could not talk any more than any other
tiny child, so He lay in His mother's lap, or in the manger, and only
looked at the people. So after they had seen Him and loved Him, they
went away again.

After a time, when the baby had grown larger, Mary took Him back to
Nazareth, and there He lived and grew up.

And He grew to be such a sweet, wise, loving boy, such a tender,
helpful man, and He said so many good and beautiful things, that
everyone who knew Him, loved Him. Many of the things He said are in
the Bible, you know, and a great many beautiful stories of the things
He used to do while He was on earth.

He loved little children like you very much, and often used to take
them up in His arms and talk to them.

And this is the reason we love Christmas Day so much, and try to make
everybody happy when it comes around each year. This is the reason;
because Christ, who was born on Christmas Day, has helped us all to be
good so many, many times, and because He was the best Christmas
present the world ever had!

[*] From "The Story Hour," by Kate Douglas Wiggins and Nora A.
Smith. Used by permission of the authors and also of the
publishers--Houghton, Mifflin and Company.

THE LEGEND OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE[*]

By Lucy Wheelock

Two little children were sitting by the fire one cold winter's night.
All at once they heard a timid knock at the door, and one ran to
open it.

There, outside in the cold and the darkness, stood a child with no
shoes upon his feet and clad in thin, ragged garments. He was
shivering with cold, and he asked to come in and warm himself.

"Yes, come," cried both the children; "you shall have our place by the
fire. Come in!"

They drew the little stranger to their warm seat and shared their
supper with him, and gave him their bed, while they slept on a hard
bench.

In the night they were awakened by strains of sweet music and, looking
out, they saw a band of children in shining garments approaching the
house. They were playing on golden harps, and the air was full of
melody.

Suddenly the Stranger Child stood before them; no longer cold and
ragged, but clad in silvery light.

His soft voice said: "I was cold and you took Me in. I was hungry, and
you fed Me. I was tired, and you gave Me your bed. I am the Christ
Child, wandering through the world to bring peace and happiness to all
good children. As you have given to Me, so may this tree every year
give rich fruit to you."

So saying, He broke a branch from the fir tree that grew near the
door, and He planted it in the ground and disappeared. But the branch
grew into a great tree, and every year it bore wonderful golden fruit
for the kind children.

[*] From "For the Children's Hour," by Bailey and Lewis. Used by
permission of the authors and the publishers--Milton Bradley Company.

LITTLE JEAN[*]

A Christmas Story

Long ago, and far from here, in a country with a name too hard to
pronounce, there lived a little boy named Jean. In many ways, he was
just like the boys here, for there are many Johns over here, are there
not? Then too, Jean lived with his auntie, and some of our boys do
that too. His father and mother were dead, and that is true here
sometimes, isn't it? But in some ways things were quite different with
Jean. In the first place his auntie was very, very cross, and she
often made him climb up his ladder to his little garret room to go to
sleep on his pallet of straw, without any supper, save a dry crust.
His stockings had holes in the heels, and toes and knees, because his
auntie never had time to mend them, and his shoes would have been worn
out all the time if they had not been such strong wooden shoes--for in
that country the boys all wore wooden shoes. Jean did many a little
service around the place, for his auntie made him work for his daily
bread, and he chopped the wood and swept the paths and made the fires
and ran the errands, but he never heard anyone say "Thank you."

Jean's happiest days were at school, and I wonder if he was like our
boys in that? There his playmates wore much better clothes and good
stockings too, and warm top coats, but they never thought of making
fun of Jean, for they all loved to play with him. One morning Jean
started off to school (which was next to the big church), and when he
got there he found the children all so happy and gay and dressed in
their best clothes, and he heard one boy say, "Won't it be jolly
tomorrow with the big tree full of oranges and popcorn and candy, and
the candles burning?" And another added, "Won't it be fun to see the
things in our shoes in the morning, the goodies that boys love?" And
another said, "My, but we have a big, fat goose at our house, stuffed
with plums and just brown to a turn," and he smacked his lips as he
thought of it. And Jean began to wonder about that beautiful tree and
wish that one would grow at his house. And he thought about his wooden
shoes and knew there would be no goodies in them for him in the
morning. Then he heard one boy say, "Don't you love Christmas?" And
Jean said, "Christmas! why, what is Christmas?" But just then the
teacher came in and said, "Boys, come into the church now and hear the
music." And so the boys marched one behind the other just as they do
in school here, and they went into the great church. Jean thought it
was beautiful in there! The soft light, the warm pleasant air, the
flowers, and the marble altar, and then the music! Oh, such music Jean
had never heard, and somehow as he sat on the high-backed bench and
listened, his own heart grew very warm although he could not
understand why, and he loved so to hear them singing: "Peace on earth,
good will to men." And it began to sing itself over and over in his
heart, this sweet, sweet song of "Peace on earth, good will to men."
Then the time came to go home, and the boys all shouted, "Good-bye,
Jean! and Merry Christmas!" And though Jean didn't know about "Merry
Christmas," he kept singing in his little warmed heart, "Peace on
earth, good will to men," and then he was glad the other boys could
have the tree and the goose and the wooden shoes full of goodies even
if he couldn't.

As Jean went home the snow began to fall and the big flakes lodged on
his shoulders and cap and hands, but he didn't mind the cold for his
heart was so warm. By and by as he ran down the street he passed a
tall house with the steps going up from the street, and there sitting
on the bottom step he saw a little boy with soft curling hair and a
beautiful face, leaning his head against the stone house, fast asleep.
Somehow as Jean looked at the sleeping face, his own heart grew still
and quiet and warm, and he felt like he could look at it forever, and
suddenly he caught himself singing softly under his breath, "Peace on
earth, good will to men." And then he looked down at the little boy's
feet and he saw that he was barefooted and his little feet were purple
with the cold. As Jean looked at the feet, and then at the face of the
child, and thought of the sweet song in his heart, he said, "Oh! I
wish I could give him my shoes, for I have stockings to keep me warm,
but auntie would be so mad! And the more he looked and thought, the
more he longed to give his shoes away, until all at once he said, "I
know what I'll do, I'll give him one shoe and one stocking and then he
won't be so cold," and he felt as though he couldn't get his shoe and
stocking off fast enough to give them to the little child. So gently
and tenderly he lifted the little cold foot in his hand to put on the
shoe that he did not waken the sleeping boy, even when he had put the
stocking on the other foot, and then as he stood up again and took a
last look at the lovely face, before he knew it he was singing aloud,
"Peace on earth, good will to men." Then he hopped off home in the
snow with the happiest heart he had ever had.

Now, I wish the story turned out differently and that his auntie said
when he told her about it, "I'm so glad you did it, Jean." But she was
so very cross, that she slapped Jean and sent him off to bed without
any supper, saying, "You had no right to give away that shoe and
stocking for my money paid for them!" Somehow Jean didn't mind doing
without supper that night and he soon went fast asleep and dreamed a
beautiful dream, for he thought he was still singing "Peace on earth,
good will to men!" And he saw a vision of the little sleeping boy,
that grew into a tall and gentle man with a radiant face who walked to
and fro in Jean's dream, singing with him "Peace on earth, good will
to men!" Then morning came and outside his window, Jean heard the
voices of children singing, "Glory to God in the highest, on earth
peace, good will to men!" And he heard a very strange sound too, for
his auntie's voice, soft and gentle, said, "Jean, wake up, and come
down and see what has happened," and Jean came down the ladder and lo!
there was a wonderful tree just like the other boys were having today,
and a goose, and by the fireplace his own wooden shoe, and beside it
the mate that he had given to the sleeping child, and far in the
distance Jean heard the children's voices singing as they ran down the
street, "Peace, peace on earth, good will to men!" Then the room grew
very still and peaceful and Jean's heart did too--and through the
silence there came a voice so tender and loving--so gentle that the
auntie's eyes were full of tears, and Jean wanted to listen forever,
and the voice said, "Jean, inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least
of these, my brethren, ye did it unto ME."

[*] Adapted from the French of Francois Coppee, by Nannie-Lee-Frayser.

HOW THE FIR TREE BECAME THE CHRISTMAS TREE[*]

By Aunt Hede, in "Kindergarten Magazine"

This is the story of how the fir tree became the Christmas tree.

At the time when the Christ Child was born all the people, the
animals, and the trees, and plants were very happy. The Child was born
to bring peace and happiness to the whole world. People came daily to
see the little One, and they always brought gifts with them.

There were three trees standing near the crypt which saw the people,
and they wished that they, too, might give presents to the Christ
Child.

The Palm said: "I will choose my most beautiful leaf, and place it as
a fan over the Child."

"And I," said the Olive, "will sprinkle sweet-smelling oil upon His
head."

"What can I give to the Child?" asked the Fir, who stood near.

"You!" cried the others. "You have nothing to offer Him. Your needles
would prick Him, and your tears are sticky."

So the poor little Fir tree was very unhappy, and it said: "Yes, you
are right. I have nothing to offer the Christ Child."

Now, quite near the trees stood the Christmas Angel, who had heard all
that the trees had said. The Angel was sorry for the Fir tree who was
so lowly and without envy of the other trees. So, when it was dark,
and the stars came out, he begged a few of the little stars to come
down and rest upon the branches of the Fir tree. They did as the
Christmas Angel asked, and the Fir tree shone suddenly with a
beautiful light.

And, at that very moment, the Christ Child opened His eyes--for He had
been asleep--and as the lovely light fell upon Him He smiled.

Every year people keep the dear Christmas Child's birthday by giving
gifts to each other, and every year, in remembrance of His first
birthday, the Christmas Angel places in every house a fir tree, also.
Covered with starry candles it shines for the children as the stars
shone for the Christ Child. The Fir tree was rewarded for its
meekness, for to no other tree is it given to shine upon so many happy
faces.

[*] From "For the Children's Hour," by Bailey and Lewis. Used by
permission of the authors and also the publishers--Milton Bradley
Company.

THE MAGI IN THE WEST AND THEIR SEARCH FOR THE CHRIST[*]

A Tale for the Christmas-Tide

By Frederick E. Dewhurst

[Sidenote: The Mountain of Vision]

Now, it happened a long time ago, in the year ----, but the exact year
does not matter, because you will not find this story written in the
history of any of the nations of the world. But in one of the
countries of Europe bordering on the Mediterranean Sea was a lofty
mountain, which, to the dwellers in the plains below, seemed to reach
to the very sky. At times its summit was covered with clouds, so that
it could not be seen; at other times it stood out fair and clear, as
though silently asking the people to look up and not down. The lower
slopes of the mountain were covered with olive trees, with groves of
oranges and lemons, and with vineyards, and they were dotted here and
there with the little white cottages of the peasants who made their
living from these groves and vineyards, the fruit of which they sold
in the city not far away.

[Sidenote: Sunset in the Sea]

Along the mountain-side wound a foot-trail even to the summit, and
nowhere, in all the region, was there a finer view of the
Mediterranean than from the summit of this mountain. In the long
summer afternoons the peasants and children would climb to the top and
look off on the lovely picture of land and sea. Then they would eat
their simple lunch of bread and dates and olives and quench their
thirst from the spring on the mountain-side, which they called
"Dew-of-heaven," so clear and fresh and sparkling was it; and when the
sun began to touch the western sky with his pencils of gold and
carmine and purple, they hastened down, that they might reach their
cottages before the night shut in.

[Sidenote: A Stranger Cometh]

On the day when this story begins a man was standing on the summit of
the mountain looking across the sea in the direction where you will
find Tyre and Joppa on the map. He was, very plainly, not one of the
peasants who lived on the mountain-side. He looked about sixty years
of age; he was tall and erect, though he carried a staff in his hand.
His hair and beard were long and flowing, and almost gray, but his eye
was clear and penetrating, and he was looking across the sea as though
he expected some one to appear.

And while he stood there gazing seaward, there appeared a second man
on the summit, helping himself up with his staff, and panting with the
effort of the long climb. From his dress and manner it was plain that
this man, too, was not one of the peasants, for, like the first comer,
he seemed to belong to another age and clime. The two men glanced at
each other and gave such greeting as strangers might who should meet
in so solitary a spot as a mountain summit. Then both lapsed into
silence and looked off across the sea.

[Sidenote: And Findeth a Friend]

Presently the last comer seemed to awake from his reverie. He walked
over to the place where the other man was sitting, still gazing off
toward Joppa, and touched him on the shoulder: "A thousand pardons, my
friend," he said, "but my mind is haunted with some far-off
recollection, as though in some other land and some far-off time I had
seen thy face. Wilt thou have the kindness to tell me thy name?"

Without lifting his eyes from the sea, and in a tone which seemed
regretful and sad, the stranger replied: "My name is Gaspard."

[Sidenote: A Far-off Pilgrimage Recalled]

"Gaspard! Indeed, then have I seen thee! Look at me, my friend; dost
thou not remember me? My name is Melchoir. Dost thou not recall that
time, how long I know not, when thou and I and Balthazar followed a
star which led us to a little Jewish hamlet, thou bearing gold and I
frankincense, and Balthazar myrrh? Dost thou not remember how, on the
long journey thither, we talked about the young Prince, whom we
expected to find in a royal palace, and how at last when we reached
the village, following the star, we were led not to a palace but to a
little inn, and not even to a room within the inn, but to the
stable-yard, where we found a sweet-faced woman bending over a babe
cradled in a manger; and standing near, a sturdy peasant, proud and
happy, whose name was Joseph? Dost thou not remember, too, that when
we had recovered from our surprise, we left our gifts and greetings,
and went our way as men who had been dreaming? Gaspard, dost thou not
remember?"

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