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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Herald, 1907-12-20, Page 21• F°°><• &1.4°T + 01-Sarail°l°e114.1•°8°8444.°2°•k°'r•tasi i3 vR°H ,:***4 .r>i• +P.4.44444 4 1r° The Christ as Spirit. +++4,4444+444-14444++++++.2- .;°°i+ °dr++ , ++++ •°£ •F°t°*++•Y .i.+°3 +°f°+.1. Eight-year-old Dorothy curled herself up in the broad window seat where the afternoon sun sent his lingering rays through the curtained window right over her shoulder and lit up the smiling face of an Indian maid on the printed. page before her. Slowly Dorothy turned the leaves of the large volume. One page showed the picture of an Eskimo village another the dusky countenance of a shall Arab playing on the sand before a tent pitched in the open wilderness. A lady entered the room. and Dor- othy looked up with a sigh of happiness). "Oh, mamma," she exclaimed, "it is all so beautiful. I never get tired of looking at my wonderful book. Iiow did you ever happen to know just what I would like better than anything else in the world." Dorothy gently closed the precious volume and jumped up to fling her arms around the loved mother in an ecstatic embrace. "It is because I love you, my darl- ing," responded Mrs. Stanley, tenderly caressing the soft brown 'curls. "Do you know, little daughter, that Christmas will soon be here again?" "yes, indeed, mamma. It is just. two weeks from to -day. I have been think- ing that you could not possibly give me anything this Christmas• that can compare with my lovely book" "Suppose, Dorothy, we sit down here together on this cosy seat and talk about it. You know dear, that on Christ- mas Day all Christian people and na- tions the world over celebrate the birth of the Saviour of mankind. You know that people show their love and interest in other people by sending gifts, as the wise men showed their adoration before the Infant Christ by laying offerings at lits feet. You, my daughter, know what pleasure it is to give presents to your little cousins and your girl friends and to papa and myself." "Yes, mamma," cried Dorothy, "I have my list made out now. There are twelve people I want to remember this Christmas and. I have five dollars and forty cents in my bank. Won't it be fun to go shopping!" "Yes, dear, but have you ever thought that there may be some little boys and girls who will get no gifts at Christmas time. Their fathers and mothers are too poor to buy any, and often there are eltildren who do not even have enough to eat or enough clothing to keep them warm." "Oh, mamma," sighed Dorothy, sym- pathetically. "Yes, dear, should we not think also of them as well as of those we love? Think, little daughter, the Lord Christ left His beautiful home in heaven, and came to earth and lived a life of hard- ship and poverty, doing good, because God wanted to show us how much he loved us. IIe has done much for us. The Lord Christ loved and suffered on earth, and at last gave His life that we might be better. Ought we not to do some- thing to celebrate Christ's birthday, something to show how muolt we love Him in return for His great sacrifice for us?" "Yes, mamma, " replied Dorothy, in a subdued little voice. "Then what do you think we sfhould do, dear? Remember that the gift God rent to the world on the first Christmas Day was His only Son. and it was be- cause He loved us oo. it was a tremend- ous sacrifice, and we are so unworthy, and we do s' little to show our love. We are so sc • `sit" Mrs, Star: y crncluded with a deep, regretful s'• -]t, having about forgotten the curly hct.d beside her. "But, mamma, how can we do any- thing for God—he is so great and so far away?" "Have you forgotten the lesson we read this morning, dear, 'If ye do it un- to the least of these, ye do it unto me:" "Oh, mamma, mamma, I see now, but how can I do it? Oh, mamma, how can I ever do it?" and Dorothy burst into • convtilsive weeping. Mrs. Stanley held her little daughter in a close embrace, not attempting to comfort by words until the paroxysm of grief had somewhat passed. She knew that her darling, the only little one God had sent to their home, must learn her lesson of sacrifice for love's sake. After a time Dorothy's sobs became gentler, and she explained to her mother, I understand now, mamma I will have to give my book"—the words almost choked her—"my book to Nellie Sims. She is thirteen, and she never owned a book in all ber life." Dorothy possessed a number of books and heaps of toys, for she was an only 'and much -loved child. • Mrs. Stanley was a wise woman. She did not attempt to frustrate the truth her talk had im- pressed upon her little daughter by .sug- gesting that some of her toys be given, or even another book that was not so dear to the child's heart. No, if she were to learn the lesson of sacrifice, the true spirit of the Christmas time, she must give the 'thing that would cost her something.' t • The "Christmas spirit" sank deep into little Dorothy's heart. She did nmt.waa ver in her determination to give the loved book, One day she came ate! her, another with a plan she had ,y'orlted out., and she met with true motherly sympathy and co-operation. Dorothy had spread the "Christmas spirit" until a number of her friends and playmates entered into it right heartily. They a1} knew of one or two poor ehild- ren that they wished to present the dearest. possessions to. crank Mayberry, after struggling with his conscience for two days, told Dorothy that he was ready to give up his "Speedwell sled to poor Bob Hockney, Mabel Somers said rhe would give her beautiful "Lady Beth" to litOe Hannah White. So the good leaven spread. Mrs. Stan. ley consented to help the little people, I and on Christmas Eve the children gath- ered with their little guests from poi•- erty-s ric•I:en homes in the beautiful home of Dorothy. What a delightful evening it was, with games and well- spread supper table! Last or all, gifts were distributed. No- where ire in the great city was the "Christ- mas spirit" more truly manifest than in that mixed emptily of little folks. The donors gave cheerily, thnrtgh with a feeling that a big part of their -heart was being carried off, while the guests aocepted the presents in the spirit in which they were .offered, seeming to real- ize at least in hart • the sacrifice that was made for their'happiness. "Mamma," said Dorothy, as she re- ceived her good -night. kiss, `there's an awful hole in my heart, but I don't stain to mind it a bit, I feel so kind of Light and happy." aa0 MISTLETOE. Mythology connected with remote re- gions has used . the mistletoe in its religious ceremonies. In the sagas of Scandinavian folklore you will find that it was with a twist of mistletoe or an arrow fashioner} from one, that the blind god IToder shat at Balder, the god of light, whose mother Freya had neglected to render mistletoe!,hnrmless } to her son. it war the only thing among plants, animals or minerals which had neglected to give this promise to the goddess, Frepa. 'and for that reason was chosen by flnder. For this cause you will• find that among northern nations, even to this day. the mistletoe it regarded as poisonous. In England no such bad qualities are ascribed to it, land in portions of the kingdom it is used for treatment. cif heart trouble. It was 1 used in Pliny's time for the preparation of birdlime, and it has been long known I that wandering birds were responsible for the carrying of ite seeds on their I hills, and when slue it has a foothold on a tree it never leaves it till the tree dies. Every country has its name for it, since it is widely distributed. The Ara- bians call it Dabueh, the Italians .ischio, the Spaniards Lige mordago, the (ler- mans Eicl,Plunistel, and the Dutch Marentackeu. When once yon have seen it growing in splendid balls of green high in the air sung to by mocking birds and fanned by clouds of hanging moss, you no longer wonder that it seenis a plant half fairylike and wholly mysterious. You would never yourself think of plucking it, and only wonder that there are any who would do so unholy a thing! When once it is brought down from its,. eyrie you are glad enough to have rte ,.rite pot to dream on, but to wortdi a� ui3 f'a ii(1to. map nut in fancy the charmed spot where it grew and to debate to yourself whe- ther it was planted by a silver-tongued thrush, or carried by a scented breeze from its parents. who for long years had clung to an oak. _s ff ROY NJACK " Christmas Recitation. •1• 4444+1.41•+4+44,4+++•!:641•4.+1.4- fs (By Jerry J. •Cohan.) Been fightin', boy? you Jack and Roy? You've punebed each other's face, So, I'm the judge to hear your grudge, And settle this here case? What, jealous, shame; you're both to blame. 'Bout sweethearts? that's the cause. Here, Roy-, come back! Shake. hands with Jack; Now, you two kids clasp paws. Quick! that's the way; it's Xmas Day. Behave! be friends, you foes. Your mothers were twin sisters, they Were lovely, May and Rose. Your dad, Jack, boy. 's my brother Roy, And_ you're named "Jack" for me, You're almost brothers, guess that's why You like to disagree. Now, listen, boy! "Jack's father, Roy, He was to marry Rose. One Christmas day I sat with May; Took courage to propose. May said, `she loved my brother, Roy,' Also, 'that Rose loved nee: To make it short, boys. we fought, Punched 'till we couldn't ! Roy, reckoned that I'd nip'd his Rose. I thought he'd stole my May—caught . my May. Then May and Rose had words, then blows, Then pullin' hair --got gay. Roy was a sight! I showed up bright. Then, what do you suppose? That Christmas day, Roy turned to May, .And I snug'd up to Rose. That change of sweethearts made us glad, The fuss had cleared the air, We plastered up our feces, lad, Our girls fixed their mussed hair. 'Twas Rose -y May, that Christmas day; And happy Roy, and nee, We joked and chaffed, and kissed, and laughed, "That's how it happened. See? It's great delight to see you fight, And then make up and cry. The dinner bell! methinks I smell Roast turkey and mince pie. t ook! there's twin mothers—on the porch— . Whose .faces beam with joy. Climb up—you, Jack—get "pig-gi back,w aial..S.ae•t n5etalaVi••S••i +I+ H•C°$•I ata:et +2°3.1°+3• hrustmaso ,y,.g.•S.a•.3..g.;•+_^•&•n°9I I° T••S°•2+7+1'1•°�•2+3,°,i+•i°.i°3 03+ (By Lady Somerset.) A child sat bending over her work. Her curly hair fell over her eyes. The sunlight was playing on the flower -beds, and white butterflies fluttered among the blossoms Over the green lawn where she sat, and yellow-thighed bees boomt4.1 among the trees. She never lifted her eyes from the little garment that she was sewing. An unclothed doll lay on the chair beside her, awaiting the clothing which she was so busily making. Presently her moth- er came across the grass,, and laid her hand upon the child's head. "What are you doing, ;Felly?" she asked. "I am dressing the doll. I am so anxious to get it done. It seems more like being a real mother, doesn't it, to hare made its. clothes?" and she looked up with grave eyes into the woman's face. ' "I won& if you have thought;".:ski her mother�ting down tt•esld� shat t'?:o .t; it}s" and" tltousa. '' lsr thousands dtc children there are�"�}tit,a bare no dols to play with. They dress` up the leg • of . an old chair, or some- times they wrap a carrot in a newspaper to make believe that they are dollies. There was a little child who used to play on a doorstep in a place I knew well, who had nothing but an old stay busk, blit she loved it, I think, almost more than you love any of your dolls. But one day a rough man passing by trod upon it and broke it to pieces, and then she had nothing." The child put her work down. and looked into her mother's face. "Noth- ing!" she said. "Oh, how dreadfall" Then she got up, and stood with her hands behind her back, .gazing oue be- yond the flowerbeds and beyond the garden, as though she were looking away to some • distant thing she had never noticed before. "Children without dollies and without toys? That does seem a terrible thing! Suppose" --and then her whole face lit up—"that instead of keeping this dolly I gave it at Christmas time to some lit- tle child who had none? I wonder whe- ther that would not be better. May I send this dolly, may I take it to some little child, mother?" And she held it up for a moment, looking lovingly into its face, atroken its flatten hair, and then cuddled it up in her arms. "May I take it myself, and give it myself to the child on the doorstep?" "I don't know how you can give it yourself," said her mother, "London is a long way off; but you can dress it and make it beautiful, and. we will find somebody- who will take it to a child who has no toys." i/ * * The summer sun had gone, the flow- ers were nearly all asleep, and the but- terflies terflies were hiding away, trying to keep warm through the cold winter, so that they might flutter out again in the first spring sunshine. But many of them had died in the rain which poured down all through the autumn days, There was no child in the garden now, and the only sound that was heard was the rustle of the dead leaves as they -floated down on to the grass. The child had gone to London. She had been very, very ill, and the doctor came and looked grave, and said that ber mother must take her away to see some clever man in the city; and so instead of looking out over the wide garden and the grass and the flower - beds, Nelly was. sitting itt a little stuffy 'room in a London hotel. The doctors• came every „day and put theft ears to her chest, and weighed her in great scales to see whether she was getting fatter, and her .mother looked very grave. and would often turn away and look out of the window when the doc- tors undressed her, as though she wanted to hide her face. • But when December came Nelly be. gan to grow strop er and she was al- 'lowed sometimes to go out •fbr a: Walk in Kensington gardens. Sho was taken tie; t nr.�'s your daddy,. iOltoy,' there •in a closed eab,•, so . slie did not see anything of the streets of London, and the walk seemed very dull to her, because she could not run about and dig in her flower garden as she did at home. By -and -bye it was Christmas time. It seemed a very dreary Christmas. She was all alone„ and her brothers and sisters were in the coun- try and all her little friends: Mother had said that she should have a very tiny Christmas tree all to herself, but that did not seem much fun. They al- ways had such a jolly time, and when her brothers brought their friends back fritwasom�the happiest Christmaslaaal for the holidaystlhonteaid in the world. And so it was, for mother never iuinded noise, and they could play hide-and-seek all over the house. The only thing she was ever strict about was that directly she said it was time to go to bed they were never to ask to stay up a little Ionger. They had had their fun, she said, and she al- ways wanted to be obeyed, and of course mother knew beat. But this Christmas was very different. It was terrible to be all alone, and though mother read aloud and did all she could to amuse her. still Nelly did sigh for a good romp and a giggle with the other children. One morning as she lay in bed she suddenly remembered the doll she had dressed in the summer time and she asked her mother to get it out of the drawer; then as it lay on the bed with the clothes she had made, she °•recolloeted that she meant to ive it:to some child who had no toys, and when her another carne to take her out she reminded her of her • promise, and she sal: "To -morrow, mother, is Christmas day, Won't you let me tale it to some little ebild who has no toys?" And her mother- said she would. So the next day they set out in a four -wheeled cab, and drove a long way till they came to a great broad street; then her mother sent away the cab, and they walked a little bit and turned down a very narrow r„g. There were a great many children playing in the street, and they made a great deal of nurse. int ono steps sat a little girl. Her grimy face was resting on her hand, and she looked out on the children playing as though the game did not interest her much. The children were singing in the street some- thing about --- "If you want a nice young man, Stuff him with bread and jam." But the little girl played no heed to the song. "She has got no doll, I am sure," said Nelly, in a loud whisper to her mo- ther. "Ask her," said the woman. "Have you got a doll, little girl?" stid Telly, standing in front of her, and speaking shyly. "No, I 'aven's and that's a fad's" said the child, looking up. "I was giv' one when I went to the treat at Southend, but I giv' it to my young Polly when she went to the 'orspital, I did." By this time a crowd of eager child- ren had gathered round the doorstep, and Nelly was getting very shy. "Would you like a doll?" se said, and then hastily pulled out her parcel, thrust it into the child's lap, and turned to g0 away. "Oh, moi," said the child, as she open- ed the parcel. "Gawd 'n 'eaven 'as sent Father Christmas, an' no mistake." But Nelly was some way down the street, and the pink color was bright in her cheeks. That Tright as she sat by her mother and listened to the Christmas bells, with the toys that had been sent to her ranged round her, and the little twinkling candles of the tiny Christ-. gas twee horning oue one by one, she laid her bead upon her mother's lap and said; 'I don't know but what, after all, it has been the nicest Christ- mas. Do you remember, mother," she continued, "that she said God sent the doll to her? I think 1 like to do God's errands." The Christmas Schemers. (Atlanta Constitution.) De chillun gittin' all so good Dey mammy stop en say; "I sorter 'fraid de angels Gwine take 'um all away. .Dey des so still aroun' de house -- So sweet dar at dey play!" But w'en she study 'botit it She knows de reason why! De_ sorter see de Chris'nus lights T'winklin' in do sky, En de song dey hearts is singing' lie •"Chrie'mus by en 'by t" .The Christmas... Evangel. �i+i+4+i�W'VM�.'»%+iMi i s'Y�+.ti°PP i i •o i°4�'P�+'�i°"iP. 5' There was Iittle in the outward Iife of Bethlehem on that ever memorable night in the long ago to indicate that the event in which all the converging lives of the past met, and which formed a new era in the world's history, was. about to take place. Men and women ' pursued their wonted round heedless of that which would invest their little city with an immortal halo and make it the centre of the world's adoration. And he the larger world the coming event created scarcely a ripple in the stagnant pool,. Men of high defree and low knew not and cared not that the promise of the cen- turies was to be fulfilled, and that the Christ was to be born in the city of David. * * * The ercnt which to heedless men with faced turned earthv,ard seemed unim- portant was one of 1 are things "which the angels desire to look into," The going of the Son of God to tabernacle among men for their redemption stirred the heavenly hosts. That He should lay siclo Isis glory and dwell as a man among men was an event pregnant with far reaching issues, It was the dawning of a new and brighter day for the world. The first born of the sons of light was to bridge the gulf between earth and heaven, and the name by which the children of men in all the coming centuries were to know .flim was that sweet name Immanuel, "which being interpreter is God with us." * * * One sometimes wishes that he could read this marvellous story of the birth of Christ for tate first time. Our very familiarity with it has to some extent dimmed its beauty. And yet it would be strangely seared and calloused heart that could read that wonderful story without a thrill: We 'see the Shekinah glory gleaming forth from the sky in the quiet midnight hour and filling the humble shepherds with an agony -of fear. We hoar the Evangel spoken by angelic lips, "Fear not; for behold I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unti you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour which is Christ the Lord." And then we hear the burstin gforth of the angelic choir into that gladdest, sweetest song tat ever woke the echoes of this gray old world: "Glory to God in the highestw, and on earth peace, good will toward men." a * * The music of that angel song is death- less. It tells us of God's seekin4 and saving love. It tells us of peace between God and man and between man and -his fellows. It gives us a glinipe into the great heart of infinite love. It rebuke a-• - our cross and vulgar selfishness. Noth- ing can so speedily burn the ingrained . selfishness out of our 'souls as a vision of the San of God born in a stable into a life of perpetual self-renunciation which terminated on the cross. Amid the din and clamor of the world's carnage and war and self-seeking the message has often been but feebly heard. But it has never entirely vanished, and as each new Christmas day comes we hear anew the melody with its soul -stirring appeal call- ing us to a higher, nobler, more Christ- like life. And that message which bids hate and selfishness begone is gaining in power as the years go on, for we are coming to see that it is only as its music sings itself into our lives -that the world can be transformed from a great battlefield into the home of men„ of all ranks and classes united in the bonds of happy brotherhood. * * * In the midst of the Christmas joys let our ears be attuned to catch the deeper meaning of the angel song. Im- manuel—God with us! Christ in =- hearts, in our hones, in our daily tasks -our whole life in all its manifold phases shot through with His presence. Let us not make the fatal blunder of the men of old who crooded the Chriat into the stable. Let us give Him His rightful place in our litres. And let us see to it that we do net go back from the joy and gladness and feasting of the Christmastide to the old lives of dreary and sordid selfishness for He whose ad- vent the angels heralded with glad acclaim came "not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give His life a ransom for the tnany."—Presbyterian. English Christmas a Merry Hold -Up.' .An English Christmas isn't a Saenger - fest, Tilbury, it's a begginfest, The band. plays, but it plays with one hand while the other one is out for coin. The hogs - and men sing their Christmas hymns,. . and then take a collection; and the noon, may be •shinitig, but you can't see it through . •the fog: .Some of .the rani - way stations are decorated, and 'you've - scarcely had time to remark that you think it's a very beautiful custom when. an itching palm appears between - you and the holly.. The postman says, "Mer- ry Christmas," and waits for you to be• generous, and the lamplighter, and. the - paper boy, and the man who delivers groceries, and the boy from the oake- shop. - Porters follow you wherever you. go, ' and servants wh.otn you never saw before bob.• up in numbers, And,out in' the street, whenever you hear anyone say. "Merry Christmas," you mechanically put your hand in your pocket. It isn't Christmas, 'Tilbury; it's an organized hold-up.—Pram "Mr. Ruggles, of . New York, Writes Horne," in the Boherniaatt, for December. ' sed • • IT`D1tPENDED. •+ I ay --Wall, what do you'Waitt? ` Tramp—Wot have yer got?