Front Cover
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 How Dot heard "the messiah"
 Christmas in the catacombs, A....
 The vision of Constantine, A. D....
 St. Patrick at Tara, A. D. 432
 The snow bird
 The conversion of the Franks, A....
 Good luck (A Christmas story)
 The Christmas crowning of Charlemagne,...
 The coronation of William the conqueror,...
 The clocks of Kenilworth
 At Runnymede, A. D. 1213
 "No Christmas! No Christmas!"
 'Twas Christmas on the Delawar...
 Christmas Eve at Santa Fé
 In the cabin of the Mayflower,...
 The Christmas hymn of Columbus...
 The pilgrims' Easter lily
 Back Cover

Title: The Christmas book
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00081051/00001
 Material Information
Title: The Christmas book
Physical Description: 119 p. : ill. ; 23 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Butterworth, Hezekiah, 1839-1905
Lungren, Fernand, 1857-1932 ( Illustrator )
Garrett, Edmund Henry, 1853-1929 ( Illustrator )
Taylor, W. L ( Illustrator )
D. Lothrop & Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: D. Lothrop Company
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: c1891
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Christmas -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1891   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1891   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1891
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Statement of Responsibility: by Hezekiah Butterworth ; fully illustrated by W.L. Taylor, Edmund H. Garrett, F.H. Lungren, and others.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00081051
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223199
notis - ALG3448
oclc - 190846766

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Table of Contents
        Page 5
        Page 6
    List of Illustrations
        Page 7
        Page 8
    How Dot heard "the messiah"
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    Christmas in the catacombs, A. D. 176
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    The vision of Constantine, A. D. 312
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
    St. Patrick at Tara, A. D. 432
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
    The snow bird
        Page 42
        Page 43
    The conversion of the Franks, A. D. 496
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
    Good luck (A Christmas story)
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
    The Christmas crowning of Charlemagne, A. D. 800
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
    The coronation of William the conqueror, A. D. 1066
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
    The clocks of Kenilworth
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
    At Runnymede, A. D. 1213
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
    "No Christmas! No Christmas!"
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
    'Twas Christmas on the Delaware
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
    Christmas Eve at Santa Fé
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
    In the cabin of the Mayflower, A. D. 1620
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
    The Christmas hymn of Columbus in the new world. 1492
        Page 102
        Page 103
    The pilgrims' Easter lily
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text
;.V; 16

..... ...


. . .


.. ......






-- I I




























"And now let the courtliest knight of all lead thy
jeweled feet to the banquet hall."


Dot has never heard such music before

The Alto stood looking steadily at Dot

In the Catacombs, A. D. 176
The Vision of Constantine, A. D. 312 .
St. Patrick at Tara, A. D. 432

Clovis at Rheims, A. D. 496 .

Mrs. Fayerweather and Good Luck"
"Jingle, Jingle, Jingle, Jingle".

The Christmas crowning of Charlemagne, A. D. 8oo
Coronation of William the Conqueror, A. D. io66
At Runnymede, A. D. 1213 .
" No Christmas no Christmas! "- In the seven-

teenth century. .

Christmas Eve at Santa F6. In the sixteenth


In the cabin of the Mayflower, A. D. 1620
The First Mayflower

"He who makes the Mayflowers to bloom amid
the snow will care for me "

The Monument to Mary Allerton

W. L. Taylor Frontis.


L. Bridgman

Luntgren .







Edmund Garrett.
EdmundH. Garrett.


(A Christmas Story.)

T HE church was vast and dim. The air was fragrant
with pine boughs, and over the golden cross of
the chancel hung heavy wreaths of box and fir. A
solitary light shone in front of the organ.
Little feet were heard on the stairs leading to the
orchestra. A door in the organ case opened quietly
and was about to close, when a voice was heard:
Is that you, Dot ?"
Yes, sir."
"What makes you come so early? It is nearly an
hour before the rehearsal begins. The little bellows
room must be a rather lonely place to wait an hour."
I always come early," said the boy, timidly.
So I have noticed. Why ?"
Mother thinks it best."
"Come out here, and let me talk with you. I have
sung in the choir nearly a year, and have hardly had
a glimpse of you yet. Don't be bashful! Why, all
the music would stop if it were not for you, Dot. Our


grandest Christmas anthem would break into confusion
if you were to cease to blow. Come here. I have just
arrived in the city, and have come to the church
to wait for the hour of rehearsal. I want company.
Come, Dot."
The little side door of the organ moved: a shadow
crept along in the dim light towards the genial-hearted
Do you like music, Dot?"
Yes, sir."
Is that what makes you come so long before the
No, sir."
What is it, then? "
I have a reason mother would not like to have
me speak of it."
"Do you sing? "
Yes, at home."
"What do you sing? "
The parts I hear you sing."
Tenor, then? "
"Will you sing for me ?"
"Now ?


" I will sing, Hark, what mean ?' "
" Rossini an adaptation from Cujus Animam." The

boy did not under-
"Well," said the
Tenor, I beat time
- now, Dot." A
flute-like voice float-
ed out into the empty
edifice, silvery, pure,
rising and falling
through all the me-
lodious measures of
that almost seraphic
melody. The Tenor
leaped to his feet,
and stood like one
He listened. The
voice fell in wavy

" Heavenly Hallelujahs rise."

t .,j .
V ."; *t:. .'

i- 4 ,.. -f-

: 7 .
" --- :: : :* .. ":! .-: < -. .

._4 ".. ,g: ..J .
-4 4
S.-. -.* ,4 .

; ',
1 :1

.. . .. ..-..!.:... ._
: ,"* -. .t 4 .

. _"- .
*.* .,^ ;' .

*.:-l~t --' a-,- f~ .- *";

Then it rose clear as a skylark, with the soul of in-
spiration in it:
Hear them tell that sacred story,
Hear them chant"-


The Tenor with a nervous motion turned on the
The boy seemed affrighted, and shrank away towards
the little door that led to the bellows room.
There is a fortune in that voice of yours."
Thank you, sir."
"What makes you hide behind that bench ? "
"You won't tell, sir? "
No; I will befriend any boy with a voice like that."
The boy approached the singer and stood beside him.
He said not a word, but only looked toward his feet.
The Tenor's eyes followed the boy's.
He saw it all, but he only said tenderly: Dot! "
A chancel door opened. An acolyte came in, bear-
ing a long gas-lighter: he touched the chandeliers and
they burst into flame. The cross glimmered upon the
wall under the Christmas wreaths; the alabaster font
revealed its beautiful decorations of calla lilies and
smilax; the organ glowed with its tall pipes, and carv-
ings and cherubs.
The first flash of light in the chancel found Dot
hidden in his little room with the door fast closed
behind him.


What a strange place it was! A dim light fell
through the open carvings of the organ case. Great
wooden pipes towered aloft with black mouths-like
dragons. Far, far above in the arch was a cherub,
without a body--a golden face with purple wings.
Dot had looked at it for hours, and wondered.
He sat looking at it to-night with a sorrowful face.
There were other footsteps in the church, sounds of
light happy voices.
Presently the bell tinkled. The organist was on his
bench. Dot grasped the great wooden handle; it
moved up and down, up and down, and then the tall
wooden pipes with the dragon mouths began to thun-
der around him. Then the chorus burst into a glo-
rious strain, which Dot the year before had heard the
organist say was the "Midnight Mass of the Middle
Ages ":
Adeste fideles
Lati triumphantes,
In Bethleem !"

The great pipes close at hand ceased to thunder.
The music seemed to run far away into the distance,
low, sweet and shadowy. There were sympathetic solos
and tremulous chords. Then the tempest seemed to


come back again, and the luminous arch over the organ
sent back into the empty church the jubilant chorus:

Venite adorenmus,
Venite adoremus,
Venite adoremus,

After the anthem there were solos. The Tenor sang
one of them, and Dot tried to listen to it as he moved
the handle up and down. How sweet it sounded to
Dot's ears! It came from a friendly heart--except
his mother's it was the only voice that had ever spoken
a word of sympathy or praise to the poor bellows boy.
The singers rested, laughed and talked. Dot listened
as usual in his narrow room.
I came to the church directly from the train," said
the Tenor, "and amused myself for a time with Dot.
A wonderful voice that boy has:"
Dot ?" said the precentor.
"Yes : the boy that blows the organ."
0, yes! I had forgotten. I seldom see him," said
the precentor. Now I think of it, the sexton told me
some weeks' ago that I must get a new organ boy
another year: he says this one Dot, you call hiim ? -
comes to the church through back alleys, and goes to
the bellows room as soon as the church is open and


hides there until service time, and that his clothes
are not decent to be seen in a church on Sunday.
Next Sunday begins the year I must see to the
He does his work well?" asked the Alto, with a
touch of sympathy in her voice.
Would it not be better to get him some new clothes,
than to dismiss him ? she asked.
No. Charity is charity, and business is business.
Everything must be first-class here. We cannot have
ragamuffins creeping into the church to do church
work. Of course, I should be glad to have the boy
supplied with clothes. That is another thing. But we
must have a different person in the bellows box. The
sexton's son is bright, dresses well, and I have no doubt
would be glad of the place. Now we will sing the
anthem, Good-will to men.' "
The choir and chorus arose. The organist tinkled
the bell, and bent down on the pedals and keys. There
was a ripple of music, a succession of short sounds,
and silence.
The organist touched the knob at the side of the
key-board, and again the bell tinkled. His white hands
ran over the keys, but there issued no sound.


He moved nervously from the bench, and opened the
little door.
Dot ? "
No answer.
The boy is sick or faint."
The Tenor stepped into the room and brought out a
limp figure.
Are you sick, Dot? "
Yes, sir; what will become of mother ? "
He heard what you said about dismissing him," said
the Alto to the precentor.
"Yes; but the-sexton was right. Look at his shoes
-why, his toes are sticking through them."
"And this bitter weather!" said the Alto, feelingly.
"Can you blow, Dot ? "
No, sir; it is all dark, sir. I can't see, sir. I can't
but just stand up, sir. You won't dismiss me, sir?
mother is lame and poor, sir-paralyzed, sir: that's
what they call it can't use but one hand, sir."
This ends the rehearsal," said the precentor in an
impatient way. Dot, you needn't come to-morrow,
nor till I send for you. Here's a dollar, Dot charity)
- Christmas present."
One by one the singers went out, the precentor bid-
ding the sexton have a care that Dot was sent home.


The Alto and the Tenor lingered. Dot. was
recovering. I shall not hear the music to-morrow.
I do love it so."
You poor child, you shall have your Christmas
music to-morrow, and the best the city affords. Do
you know where Music Hall is, Dot? "
Yes, lady."
There is to be an oratorio there to-morrow evening
- The Messiah. It is the grandest ever composed, and
no singing in America is equal to it. There is one
chorus called the 'Hallelujah Chorus'-it is wonder-
ful: the man who composed it thought he heard the
angels singing and saw the Lord of Heaven, when he
was at work upon it; and he is to be the first tenor
singer, and I am to sing the altos wouldn't you like
to go, Dot? "
Yes, lady. Is the man who composed it to be the
tenor singer the one who heard the angels singing,
and thought he saw the Lord ? "
No, Dot: he is to be the tenor singer."
I, Dot," said the Tenor.
"I have a ticket for the upper gallery, which I will
give him," said the Alto. A friend of mine bought
it, but I gave her a seat on the floor, and kept this for
- well, for Dot."


The Tenor talked low with the lady.
"Here is a Christmas present, Dot." He handed
Dot a bill.
And here is one for your mother," said the Alto,
giving Dot a little roll of money.
Dot was better now. He looked bewildered at his
new fortune.
Thank you, lady. Thank you, sir. Are you able?"
The Alto laughed.
Yes, Dot. I am to receive a hundred dollars for
singing to-morrow evening. I shall try to think of
you, Dot, when I am rendering one of the passages -
perhaps it will give me inspiration. I shall see you,
Dot under the statue of Apollo."
The sexton was turning off the lights in the chancel.
He called Dot. The church grew dimmer and dimmer,
and the great organ faded away in the darkness. In
the vanishing lights the Alto and Tenor went out of
the church, leaving Dot with the sexton.

It was Sabbath evening Christmas.
Lights glimmered thickly among the snowy trees on
the Common; beautiful coaches were rolling through
the crowded streets.
Dot entered Music Hall timidly through a long pas-


sage through which bright, happy faces were passing,
silks rustling, aged people moving sedately and slowly,
and into which the
crowds on the street
seemed surging like a -
tide. Faces were too i'.
eager with expectation to '
notice him or his feet.
At last he passed a sharp
angle in the long pas-
sage, and the great organ
under thousand gas-
jets burst upon his view. B
An usher at one of the -
many lower doors looked
at his ticket doubtfully: '
"Second gallery-
back." -:
Dot followed the trail- .. "
ing silks up the broad
flights of stairs, reached ,.
the top, and asked another
usher to show him his .
seat. The young man -
whom Dot addressed had DOT HAS NEVER HEARD SUCH MUSIC


that innate refinement of feeling that marks a true
Boston gentleman. He gave Dot a smile, as much as
to say, "I am glad you can enjoy all this happiness with
the rest," and said:
Follow me."
His manner was so kind that Dot thought he would
like to speak to him again. He remembered what the
Alto had said about the statue of Apollo, and as the
usher gave him back his check and pointed to the num-
ber on the check and the seat, Dot said:
Will you please tell me, sii, which is the statue of
Apollo? "
The usher glanced at the busts and statues along the
wall. He spoke kindly:
That is the Apollo Belvedere."
Dot thought that a pretty name; it did not convey to
his mind any association of the Vatican. palace, but he
knew that some beautiful mystery was connected with it.
And now Dot gazes in amazement on the scene before
him. In the blaze of light the great organ rises resplen-
dently, sixty feet in height, its imposing facade hiding
from view its six thousand pipes. People are hurrying
into the hall, flitting to and fro; young ladies in black
silks and velvets and satins; old men where were so
many men with white hair ever seen before? stately

I' -

p -





men with thin faces, bald teachers, college professors.
Tiers of seats in the form of half a pyramid rise at
either end of the organ. These are filling with the
chorus sopranos and altos in black dresses and white
shawls, tenors and basses in black coats, white neck-ties
and kids. In front, between the great chorus, rises a
dark statue, and around this, musicians are gathering-
players on violins, violas, violencellos, contra basses,
flutes, oboes, bassoons, trumpets, trombones, horns; the
pyramidal seats fill; the hall overflows; the doors are
full, the galleries. The instruments tune. A dark-
haired man steps upon the conductor's stand,.he raises
his baton; there is a hush, then half a hundred instru-
ments pour forth the symphony.
Dot listens. He has never heard such music before;
he did not know that anything like it was ever heard on
earth. It grows sweeter and sweeter:


Did an angel speak? The instruments are sweeter
Comfort ye my people."

Did that voice come from the air ?
Dot listens and wonders if this is earth:

" Comfortye, comfort ye my people, saith your God, saith your God."


Dot sees a tall man standing alone -in front of the
musicians is it he that is singing ? Dot gazes upon
his face with wide eyes. It is he- and he is the Tenor
who had befriended him the night before.
What music followed when the chorus arose and
Every valley shall be exalted !"

Dot hears the grand music sweep on, and he feels, as
all feel, that the glorious Messiah is about to appear.
He sees a lady in white satin and flashing jewels step
forward: he hears a ripple of applause, and a voice full
of strength and feeling sings:

"0 thou that tellest good tidings to Zion, 0 thou that tellest good tidings to Jerusa-
lem, say unto the cities ofJudah, Behold your God !"

Dot knows that voice. Will indeed she lift her eyes
to him?
No, she does not. She sits down, the hall ringing
with applause. She rises, bows, but she does not look
toward the statue of Apollo, near which Dot is sitting.
Dot hears dreamy music now, more enchanting than
any before it. The great audience do not stir, or move
a fan, or raise a glass. It grows more ethereal; it
seems now but a wavy motion in the air. He hears a
lady near whisper:

_________ .. --- a ___0_

He shall feed his flock like a shep herd, and he shall gath er the

lambs with his arm, with........ his arm; He shall feed his flock like a

shep herd, and he shall gath er the lambs with his arm, with...... his arm,

and car ry them in his bo som, and gent- ly lead those.... that

are with young, and gent ly lead, and gent ly lead those that are with young.
are with young, .rod gent '- ly lead, and gent ly lead those that a'e with young.


The Pastoral symphony."
The Alto has risen again. She stands out from the
great chorus what a beautiful figure! The dark-haired
man lifts his baton: the lady turns her face toward the
upper gallery. Her eyes wander for a moment; they
rest on Dot.
There was no applause now. Tears stood in the
Alto's eyes tears stood in the eyes of every one.
There was a deep hush and tears, and in the silence the
Alto stood looking steadily at Dot.
There was a rustle in the hall it grew. The silence
was followed by a commotion that seemed to rock the
hall. The applause gathered force like a tempest.
Then the beautiful lady looked towards Dot, and
sang again the same wonderful air, and all the hall
grew still, and people's eyes were wet again.
The Hallelujah Chorus with its grand fugues was
sung, the people rising and standing with bowed heads
during the majestic outpouring of praise.

It is ended now -faded and gone. The great organ
stands silent in the dark hall; the coaches have rolled
away, the clocks are striking midnight.
I have come to congratulate you before retiring,"
said our Tenor to the Alto, as he stepped into the


parlor of the Revere House. To-night has been the
triumph of your life. Nothing so moved the audience as
" He shallfeed his fock like a shepherd."
"Do you know to what I owed the feeling that so
inspired me in that air ? "
It was poor little Dot in the gallery. You teach
music, do you not ?"
You are about to open a school ? "
"Give Dot a place as office boy-errand boy-
something. It will lift a weight from my heart."
I had thought of it. He has a beautiful voice."
I might get him a place in a choir."

Fifteen years have passed. The old Handel and
Haydn Society have sung The Messiah fifty, perhaps
sixty times. The snows of December are again on the
hills. The grand oratorio is again rehearsing for the Sab-
bath evening before Christmas.
A new tenor is to sing on the occasion he was
born in Boston, has studied in Milan, and has achieved
great triumphs as an interpreter of sacred music in Lon-
don and Berlin.


The old hall is filled again. The symphony has
begun its dulcet enchantment; the Tenor, with a face
luminous and spiritual, arises, and with his first notes
thrills the audience and holds it as by a spell:

Comfort ye."

He thought of the time when he first heard those
words. He thought of the hearts whose kindness had
made him a singer. Where were they? Their voices
had vanished from the choirs of earth, but in spirit those
sweet singers seemed hovering around him.

Comfortye my people."

He looked, too, toward the Apollo on the wall. He
recalled the limp bellows boy who had sat there sixteen
years ago. How those words then comforted him!
How he loved to sing them now!

"Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her that her warfare is accomplished,
that her iniquity is pardoned."

It was Dot.

A. D. 176.

IT had been a day of Rome in her glory -the Satur-
nalia. Through the imperial streets had passed
grand pageants. Aurelian had returned from his con-
quests. The Temple of Janus was closed; banners of
peace filled the air. Aurelian feasted in the Capitol.
At the tables sat nobles and peasants; all were equal on
that one day.
Let us turn to the gloomy quarries under the Cam-
pagna. Along the Appian Way of monuments and
palaces, in removing the stone for building, there had
been created countless caverns where from early periods
criminals had taken refuge. Latterly these cells had
been secretly used as chapels by the persecuted Chris-
tians; and here to-night -hard by the blazing and
drunken city these proscribed men and women were
gathering to celebrate the birth of the Lord. Torches
flamed on the damp walls, revealing the rude inscrip-
tions on many a martyr's tomb. After the Feast
of Charity, an old man rose in their midst the
venerable Alexander.



His name was on the list of the condemned for whom
the Roman officers were seeking. He pointed upward:
" The roof of stone hides the stars, but they shine; and
they that turn many to righteousness shall shine as the
stars of heaven. I know that when the Saturnalia
passes, I shall be given to the beasts. But the hosts of
the righteous shall increase, shining in their beauty, and
Bethlehem's Star shall never set."
Even so. When the Saturnalia came again, and the
Christians gathered again in the stone chambers to
celebrate the birth of Jesus, on the martyrs' record along
the smoky wall were new names -among them the
aged Alexander's.


R OME has suffered mighty changes. It is no
longer the Rome of Aurelian, no longer the
temple place of heathen gods.
But the Bethlehem Star still shines.
More than three hundred years have now passed
away since its mysterious ray led the Magi to the
Redeemer's cradle. Constantine, Rome's emperor now,
has seen the failure of the gods of Rome and Athens.
He has been forced to ponder, forced to believe that
the faith of the persecuted Christians in a God, one and
invisible, and in his Crucified Son, may be the true
faith of the world.
In this year, 312, he had seen the Vision which was
to change the state of the world. That ancient histo-
rian who received the narrative from Constantine's own
declaration, thus describes this most wonderful event of
Christian History:

The army arriving near Rome, the emperor was employed in devout ejacula-
tions. It was the twenty-seventh of October, about three o'clock in the afternoon,
the sun was declining, when there suddenly appeared a pillar of light in the
heavens in the form of a cross, with this plain inscription:



IN HOC SIGNO VINCES. [In this sign thou shall conquer.]
The emperor was amazed. The cross and sign blazed before the eyes of the
whole army.
Early the next morning, Constantine informed his officers that Christ had
appeared to him in the night, with the cross in his hand, and commanded him to
make the cross the royal standard. The officers were ordered to construct a cross,
and a standard. The standard was made thus:
A long spear, plated with gold, with a transverse piece at the top, in the form of
a cross, to which was fastened a four-square purple banner, embroidered with gold
and beset with precious stones which reflected the highest luster; above the cross
was a crown overlaid with gold and jewels, within which was placed the sacred
symbol, the two first letters of the name of Christ in Greek.

Under this standard, October 29, 312, Constantine
defeated the Roman Emperor, Maxentius, on the banks

of the Tiber. He entered Rome in triumph, bearing

aloft the cross. The Christians hailed it with acclama-

tions, and a joyful public Christmas followed.
The Saturnalia became the Festival of the Nativity.

The ancient pagan shrines vanished, or they glowed

with the holy lights of the new and triumphant faith-
the beautiful Bethlehem Star shining over all.


NEW temples have arisen in Rome. They uplift
the cross. The golden season of the Saturnalia
comes and goes, but the Festival of Christ is celebrated
instead. Rome is filled with holy rejoicing, the Roman
children sing of the Star of Bethlehem, masses are
chanted the heathen festival has become Christmas.
The Church, mighty in its faith, is praying for the
conversion of the world. Missionaries go forth into all
the provinces of the vast Roman Empire.
About the year 432, St. Patrick made a holy journey.
He came to Ireland. He found the people idolaters,
worshiping under the oaks, their bards and poets igno-
rant of the true God; and as St. Patrick was a singing
prophet and teacher, the simple folks of Ireland, ever
deeply stirred by song and eloquence, listened to him.
They were moved by the beautiful story of Christ, and
the hope of an eternal life. Thousands were baptized
into the new faith. Churches sprung up over the green
land as if by magic. St. Patrick preached in Ireland
for some thirty years, and we cannot wonder that the



Irish people still recall his mission with love, and speak

of him with reverence.

The scene of his greatest triumph was Tara. There

he instituted the wonderful Christmas festivals of Rome.

There his grand missionary anthems were inspired.

According to tradition, he first sang his memorable

hymn, Christ be with me, on one of the religious Christ-

mases in the royal halls of Tara. It is a rapture of

devotion and consecration:

To Tara to-day may the strength of God pilot me,
May the pdwer of God preserve me;
May the wisdom of God instruct me;
May the eye of God view me;
May the ear of God hear me;
May the word of God make me eloquent;
May the hand of God protect me;
May the way of God direct me;
May the shield of God defend me;
Christ be with me,
Christ on my right hand,
Christ on my left hand,
Christ in the heart of all to whom I speak,
Christ in the mouth of all who speak to me,
Christ in the eye of all who see me.
Christ in the ear of all who hear me.

,i L


TN the rosy light trills the gay swallow,
The thrush, in the roses below;
The meadow lark sings in the meadow,
But the snow bird sings-in the snow.
Ah me!
The snow bird sings in the snow!


The blue martin trills in the gable,
The wren, in the gourd below;
In the elm, flutes the golden robin,
But the snow bird sings in the snow.
Ah me!
The snow bird sings in the snow !

High wheels the gray wing of the osprey,
The wing of the sparrow drops low;
In the mist dips the wing of the robin,
And the snow bird's wing in the snow.
Ah me !
The snow bird sings in the snow.

I love the high heart of the osprey,
The meek heart of the thrush, below,
The heart of the lark in the meadow,
And the snow bird's heart in the snow;
But dearest to me,
Chickadee Chickadee!
Is that true little heart in the snow.

A. D. 496.

T HERE lived in Geneva, near the close of the fifth
century, a most beautiful Christian girl. She
was called the loveliest woman in the world. She was
also beautiful in character, and spent her time in works
of charity.
Clovis, King of the Franks, heard of the beauty of
Clotilde. According to the old story, he sent a noble
Roman, Aurelian, commissioning him, if he found her
loveliness as great as her fame, to woo her for him, and
bring her to Rheims, the Frankish capital. Aurelian
went to Geneva clothed in rags. He appeared before
the fair Clotilde as a beggar. She received him with
pity. Kneeling, she began to wash his feet.
Lady," said Aurelian, I would speak to thee. I
am no mendicant," said he. I am a king's ambassa-
dor. King Clovis desires to make thee his queen.
Wilt thou take and wear this ring? "
Clotilde put upon her finger the jewel of Clovis; and
by the act she made the France of the future one of
the Christian empires of the world.



In 496, a German army crossed the Rhine, warring
upon Clovis. The great battle of Cologne was fought.
At a point of the battle the Franks were in much peril.
Clovis called upon his gods. But the danger of defeat
grew-the Franks were hard pressed. Then Aurelian,
who had won for Clovis his beautiful wife, cried: Call
on the God whom the queen preacheth, my lord King!"
Clovis lifted his face toward the sky. Christ Jesus,
thou whom my queen calleth the Son of the Living
God, if thou wilt help, I will proclaim thy name, and
be baptized !" prayed this king.
The Germans were beaten, their king slain.
That was a grand Christmas in Rheims, 496. It cele-
brated the conversion of the Franks. The way from
the palace to the baptistery was hung in silk and gold.
The clergy led the way with crosses and standards,
reading the gospels and chanting psalms. Then came
the bishop leading the king by the hand and followed
by the meek and beautiful queen. The king and royal
household were baptized, and an army of three thou-
sand Franks, and a multitude of women and children.
The stars beamed brightly that night over Gaul and
the Rhine. The Star of Bethlehem shone in its holy
place. The kingdoms of earth were becoming the
kingdoms of Christ.


(A Christmas Story.)

G OOD LUCK'S father was an old bread-cart man.
He drove a horse named Molly that used to
jog along from house to house in the country road,jin-
gle, jingle, jingle, her harness tied up with tow strings
and toggles; a faithful steady
old creature that was never
known to run away. After
S some years' service "Molly"
learned "to go without driv-
S ing," as the people used to say.
She would start from the old
red bakery, jingle, jingle, jingle,
i and stop regularly at every
house, without a "whoa" or
a pull at the much-mended
reins. Her mission was to supply the good people all
with crackers and cookies and gingerbread; she seemed
to understand the dignity of her work; no other horse in


the town was honored with carrying seven bells on his
harness all the year, and to trot along with a jingle,jin-
gle, jingle. Old Molly seemed to comprehend it all.
Her good master's name was Fayerweather; a kindly
man that baked crackers and cookies and gingerbread
during the week, and slept in church on Sundays after
he passed the contribution box. His wife Dorothea,
or "Dorothy" as she was called, was a simple, good
woman, and the two might have become quite well to
do in life, if she had not been quite so free in distrib-
uting crackers, cookies and gingerbread in charity
among certain hard-working people of the neighbor-
hood. She was always sending things," as the good
people expressed it, to the poor and the sick.
"I wouldn't never see anybody suffer," she used to
say; 'tain't in my nature; lor, husband, 'twill all come
back again some day; nobody will ever live to see Good
Luck begging bread."
Good Luck!" And who was "Good Luck"? He
was their little hunchbacked boy,, their only child. He
had a beautiful face, quick wit, and a warm, generous
heart, and everybody loved him; but, poor fellow, he
was, as the people said, a "little humpback."
It deeply grieved the heart of Dorothy when she
came to realize her little boy's deformity. When the


time came to name the child, his father called him
Henry, but his mother Good Luck."
I believe in sending a child out into the world with
a good name," said she. Good Luck is a name that
will make the people look kindly upon him when I am
laid away in the old buryin' ground, without a grave-
stone." Dorothy was a wise woman in this. So little
Henry began to be called by the neighbors "Good
Luck," greatly to the delight of Dorothy, and after a
time he was known by no other name.
At last industrious Mr. Fayerweather died, and Good
Luck was left to drive the old red bread-cart, jingle,
jingle, jingle. Dorothy continued to bake, and to give
away almost as many crackers and cookies as she sold,
and it greatly delighted the generous heart of Good
Luck to carry these gifts to their friends.
He received many returns apples, pears, peaches
and vegetables.
"Take all they offer you," said wise Dorothy. "That
is the way to be loved. They love you best who do the
most for you. The heart loves those it helps, and hates
those it injures. Always let people do for you, if you
want them to love you, and never let them stop lest
their love should fail."
One day a great misfortune befell the widow. Poor


old Molly was found dead, after thirty years of use-
fulness, and Dorothy gave away the seven musical bells,
and the old har- '- 7
ness, with all of
its tow strings and I'
"Now I must I .
support myself by I
knittin'," she said i_ '
to Good Luck, 7
" and I am going' IM .
to teach you how
to knit, and we -
will help each
other. We must
believe that ev-
erything that hap- w
pens is for the
best since we do
not know any-- -
thing and cannot
see the end; so .-
teaches, and I do think that book is the best book of
poetry in all the world."


So the quiet old lady and her boy used to be seen
sitting in the door of the little red cottage under the
woodbine and hop-vine, knitting, knitting.
They were very happy. They used to talk of those
prosperous days when old Molly made musical the
air of the country roads lined with locust-trees and
apple-trees, and good Mr. Fayerweather was the baker
of the town week-days and passed the contribution box
Sunday, and on the latter days rested in his cool
country pew.
It makes me glad to think that I gave away so
much," Dorothy used to say. "All that we have to
make the soul happy is what we have given away. I
wish I had given away more I should have been a
great deal happier, and you, Good Luck, would have
been a deal better off. There's nothing like a good
name and good will in this world. .Don't you never
worry, Good Luck, when I am gone. The Lord is our
Father, and he owns the universe, and it makes me feel
very rich. He'll remember the crackers I gave away,
and will always take care of you, Good Luck. Wait
and see."
One day, when the world was full of summer sunshine,
and the orioles were singing their happiness among the
cool old trees, and the bobolinks were toppling amid the


dewy clover, the two sat knitting together. Suddenly
Dorothy's arm fell.
"I feel strange," said she. Good Luck, my darling
child! I am paralyzed. I shall never knit any more.
Go for the neighbors."
The neighbors came running. They brought her
water from the old well cordials, cake, flowers all
came running with something.
I sha'n't live long," said Dorothy, and I am goin'
to prophesy: Everybody that is good to Good Luck
and gives him a home will be prosperous and happy;
the Lord told me so. Now help me to my bed -I shall
never go about again."
She lay sick during the beautiful June days. Her
bed was covered with gifts from many hands: roses and
lilies from the children, and food in abundance from
those she had helped feed in the happy years gone by.
There are people whose consciences are so quiet, that
we feel the peace of their presence, and so it was with
Dorothy. Her sick room was a delightful place, and
the neighbors never left her.
One day in July, when the birds were singing in all
the trees, she said: I think I'll have to go now the
Lord has called me; always be good to Good Luck and
the Lord will bless you "-and she turned her head


aside, and when they went to her she was dead, and the
birds sang on as before.
What was to become of Good Luck ?
After the funeral the neighbors returned to the old
red cottage, and sat down on the decayed door-steps
under the hop-vine to discuss the subject.
His mother prophesied before she died," said brisk
Aunt Betty Pringle, "that anybody that gave him a
roof would always have happiness and prosperity. The
Lord told her so, and he knew. I'll take him, just to
drive trouble away. What do ye say, Good Luck ? "
Good Luck said nothing. He did not like to be
adopted because he was supposed to be a good fairy.
He stood silent with a great emptiness in his heart.
"I'll take him," said a farmer's wife, because his
mother used to give me cookies, and always was good to
me when I was sick."
So will I," said another.
And I," said another.
Good Luck's face brightened, and his empty heart
began to fill with love for everybody.
What do you say, Good Luck ? asked the wife of
the Esquire.
This is a good world," said the boy; it is all so
good that I do not know what to say."


I will take you," said the last-named lady, because
your mother was so good to everybody. We have a
great house, and plenty of room, and I will send you to
school. What do you say ?"
Good Luck began to cry, but he only said, The
people are all so good. I wish mother was here to see."
I would like to take the boy," said sad-faced Mrs.
Poore, "because the old bread-cart once tided us over
so many troubles when we were so unfortunate. I
always loved the boy, and I lost my best friend when
his mother died. My heart wants him, but I am the
poorest woman in the town, and husband is lame,
and is the most unlucky person in the world, always
meeting with accidents and losses. You wouldn't like to
go with me, would you, Good Luck ? "
Good Luck stood silent. The people all were silent,
though the robins kept singing in the old trees.
"Yes," said Good Luck, crying; "that is what my
heart says yes."
Then come right along; I'll always be good to you;
I wonder what husband will say now? They stopped
only to lock the door of the old red cottage, and to gaze
for a moment on the late good Mrs. Fayerweather's empty
bed, and then they went away, Good Luck holding Mrs.
Poore by the hand, and all the birds were singing.


I'll tell you what it is," said the Deacon's wife as
the two disappeared down the bushy road," I do believe
the boy will bring good luck to that unlucky family, and
make the Poores rich some day. Wait and see."
The Poores lived in a bit of a house among the lilac
bushes, at one end of a great pasture, in a by-lane, all
out of the way. They had never been able to live in
any better place. They had two children,." Jimmy and
Jenny," as the latter were known.
Mr. Poore was lame. He had always been meeting
with accidents. He was hoeing in the garden among
the bean-poles that day when Mrs. Poore returned. He
looked up, saw her coming, and came with his hoe for
a cane to meet her at the stone wall.
Mrs. Poore's heart had its misgivings as to what her
husband would say to her new charge.
See here," said she, "see what I have brought
What, Mary ? "
Good Luck."
Well, Mary, we have need enough of good luck, but
how happened the boy to come home with you ? The
poor are always good to the poor; the best friends they
have; but did none of the rich folks offer to take the
boy home? "


"Yes, all."
"And you offered him a home, too ? "
"Yes, and he wanted to come."
"Well, Mary, you are a good woman, and I have
nothing to say. We've got nothing to depend upon but
the Lord, and five can depend upon him as well as four.
I don't expect anything in this world, and blessed are
those that expect nothing, for they shall not be dis-
But I do," said Mrs. Poore, now that I have taken
Good Luck. In helping him, I am going to help you
and myself. If you want help, help others, that's the
Just then 'Squire Jones came along and Mrs. Poore
and Good Luck went into the cottage.
What do you think my wife's gone and done ? "
said Mr. Poore to the 'Squire. She's been and taken
a boy Fayerweather's boy humpbacked, too. These
women are curious now, ain't they?"
You deserve to go all to the poorhouse together."
Indignant 'Squire Jones strode away.
Say, 'Squire," said poor Mr. Poore.
What ?"
"We ain't going We're goin' to have good luck."
The two children, Jimmy and Jenny, were delighted


that Good Luck had chosen their mother to be his
mother, and deemed it the greatest possible honor. Mr.
Poore treated the boy very kindly, and Good Luck was
very happy indeed. And all the birds were singing.
Summer passed. The birds ceased to sing; the
orchards became russet and red with apples, and the
maples turned red, and oak-trees brown.
Shady November came; then frosty December, with
complaining winds and light snows.
Mr. Poore had had his usual accidents and losses.
His potatoes blasted, the bugs ate his squashes, the
frost killed his peppers before they turned red. Then
one of his pigs died, and he had neuralgia in his neck.
Christmas week came.
Well," said Mr. Poore to his wife, as they sat down
one evening alone to their sweet apples and porridge,
the boy has been here almost six months, and I would
be sorry to part with him, but he hasn't brought us any
good luck yet. Misfortune goes right on, one thing
following' another; does seem's so the Fates were against
us, and I was born under an unlucky planet. Jimmy
will have to go into the woods and help the woodchop-
pers this winter instead of to school, and Jenny must
go to braidin' straw, and give up her education. Such
bright handsome children as they are, too. If some



people had the bringing up of Jimmy they'd make a
President of him. Why not? Abraham Lincoln was
It was an old New England town. There were many
families of intelligence and means in it, and many young
men had gone from it into business or to college. The
latter always returned to their bowery old homes at
least three times a year; on Independence Day, Thanks-
giving Day, and Christmas. All these people had most
kindly memories of the Fayerweathers, and even of old
Molly," with her wonderful intelligence and her jingle,
jingle, jingle. In fact most visitors to the town used to
inquire about Mother Fayerweather while the latter
was living, and about little Good Luck after he went to
live with the Poores.
Christmas makes all mankind brothers, and often
prompts good hearts to be charitable in very curious
ways. This Christmas seemed to lead all the visitors to
the old houses to inquire about Good Luck, and at a
church party on Christmas eve, it was arranged to
make him a visit on Christmas night, and to give a sur-
prise party to the Poores in return for their kindness to
the boy, and the boy's parents' good hearts and charities
in the days of jingle, jingle, jingle, and the boyhood
times now passing away.


"A very lean Christmas we'll have to-day," said poor
Mr. Poore as he sat down to the table on Christmas
morning; "porridge for breakfast, one little rabbit for
dinner, and nothing' for supper, and no presents for any
of us, although we be as good as anybody. It does
seem as though the Lord had forgotten us."
The snow was falling. Sunbeams were falling with
the snow, and the day bid fair to be pleasant.
Oh! let us try to be thankful," said little Mrs.
There was red sky in the evening. The cold moon
rose, and the woods stood white in the silent light.
The family gathered around the tallow candle.
It is Christmas night," said Mr. Poore. Let's do
something' let's roast some apples and pop some corn
- then, Mary, you shall read a chapter, and we'll all go
to bed."
Jingle, jingle, jingle.

"There's a sleigh coming down the road," said Mr.
Poore. Somebody's havin' a good time Well, I'm
glad fer 'em."
Jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle.

"Sleighin' party, I guess. Strange they should be


coming' this way. Well, they ain't coming' to see us,
wherever they may be goin' to."

Jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle;
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle!

Goodness, Mary, get up and look out of the winder.
There must be a dozen sleighs. What do you see -
hey ?"
Nothin'. "
"Nothin'. Why, the road must be full. Just listen."

Jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle;
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle !

There, do you call that nothing' ? Let me get up."
Mr. Poore went to the window. The young people
I don't see anything," said Mrs. Poore. There's a
lot of people, though -there, coming along under' the
trees up the lane, and every time they stop to laugh,
they go --jingle, jingle, jingle."


And. they're coming' here," said Mr. Poore, they're
comin' here. What can they be coming' here fer? I
don't owe 'em anything."
I'm afraid "- said Mrs. Poore.
"What, Mary? "
They "-
Well? "
They ain't humans."
"Sho! they can't be comin' to do us any harm; if
they be spirits they be good ones. Just hear 'em laugh

Jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle;
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle!

"They look like people with strings of sleigh-bells on
to 'em, just like Fayerweather's old horse, Molly.'
Perhaps they're coming' to see Good Luck who
knows ? Like enough it be the spirit of Fayerweather's
old horse."
Horses don't have spirits," said philosophical Mrs.
How do you know ? said Mr. Poore. "I always
kinder thought old Molly' had."


Hush," said Mrs. Poore, they're coming."

Rap, rap, rap.

Who be ye all? "

Jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle !

Come in, whoever ye may be."
A dozen or more merry young people rushed into the
cottage, and filled the room. They were gaily dressed,
and each one had around the breast, worn like a soldier's
sash, a string of sleigh-bells. There were some six or
more young gentlemen and as many young ladies.
We've come to see Good Luck," said the -Esquire's
son, and to wish you all a Merry Christmas."
Then they all laughed merrily, and as often as they
laughed, the bells all seemed to laugh too, in a kind of
They had brought a present of books to Good Luck,
a Christmas cake to Mrs. Poore, and a bundle of clothes
for Jimmy, and a package of bonbons for Jenny.
Christmas never came here before," said Mr. Poore.
" What's brought you here ? "
Good Luck; his mother was such a good woman."
But what made you think of us? "
You are so good to Good Luck," answered the


'Squire's son. "Now, Mr. Poore, is there nothing we
can do for you? "
Massy no."
But you have to work hard, and earn little."
Yes I suppose so."
You know about the opening of the box factory.
Wouldn't you like a place there as overseer? It would
be an easy place, the pay would be good, and it would
help your wife in making a better home."
Massy, what luck! Yes, I would."
Well, I have come to offer you the place," said the
'Squire's son.
Massy, what luck!"
Well, the factory opens the first Monday in January.
Salary twenty dollars a week."
Twenty dollars a week. What luck !"
The young people all laughed:

Jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle,
Jingle, jingle, jingle!

"Do you want to know what these bells remind
me of? "
Yes," said the 'Squire's son.


All those good things old Molly used to carry, and
old Fayerweather to give away. Sort of an echo-are
you sure that you are all livin' bein's, or are you old
Fayerweather's ghosts, and the like o' that ? Spirits of
people he used to help ?"
"Jingle, jingle, jingle," was the only answer.
"I have been thinking of late," said the 'Squire's
daughter to Mrs. Poore, "that since you have- taken
Good Luck, we might let Jimmy come and live with
us, and send him to school. Father is at the Legisla-
ture now, and is away most of the year. We want a
boy in the house, and we would give Jimmy his educa-
tion for his company."
Massy, what good luck! said Mr. Poore.
Mrs. Poore threw her apron over her head and began
to cry.
At that, the young people in sleigh-bells all laughed
again, jingle, jingle, jingle!
The "jingle party," which had been gotten up in
memory of poor old "Molly's" benevolent journeys,
left the cottage early, but the Poores sat up until mid-
night to talk it over.
The Poores are prosperous people now, and Mr.
Poore said to his wife recently on a summer


"I can hardly believe it, Mary-since you brought
that boy home, and set things to goin' right what luck
we have had; our luck turned then, now didn't it,
Mary? Christmas never came to us before."
Yes," said Mary, this is a good world." The poor
woman following the habit of the old hard years threw
her apron over her head and began to cry -but her
tears were those of joy.
And all the birds were singing.


IN the ancient cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle, France,
there is a tomb of wonderful historic interest. The
traveler thinks of it as he enters the solemn edifice,
and beholds in the dim distance the chancel oriel burn-
ing with mysterious splendors.
CARLO-MAGNO," reads the inscription. It is the
tomb of an emperor, one of the greatest who ever wore
the crown of the Casars--Charlemagne!
He was King of the Franks, of the peoples of Middle
Europe and the nations of the North; he conquered
the Saxons, and in tremendous struggles defeated all
foes, until at last the Alps and the Baltic, the Rhine
and the Rhone, were alike parts of his splendid empire.
He conquered the Saracens of the South; he added
crown to crown, kingdom to kingdom, until Europe lay
at his feet.
At the Easter Festival in 774, he visited Rome in
splendor. A great procession came out to meet him,
headed by the Pope. The people hailed him with
hallelujahs, the children waved green branches, the


clergy in princely vestments sang: Blessed is he that
cometh in the name of the Lord "
In the year 8oo, he was summoned to Rome. The
cardinals said: "Let us honor this most powerful
Defender of the Faith with a grand Christmas gift--
the crown of the Roman world."
The Pope and clergy prepared for Christmas cere-
monies of the most joyous and imposing character. It
was arranged that though Charlemagne should reach
Rome before Christmas, he should have no knowledge
of the coronation that awaited him. The clergy, nobles
and people were to assemble. When he should come
into the church to attend mass, and should bow his
head to receive the wafer- then he should be-suddenly
crowned and hailed Emperor of the World.
It was one of the most poetic events of history.
The Christmas day came, a beautiful day out of the skies
of Italy. The Emperor entered the church in humility,
and bowed before the altar. Suddenly Pope Leo up-
lifted the crown of the Roman world, and set it upon his
head. There arose then a great shout of joy. Clergy and
nobles exclaimed in unison: Long live Charles Augus-
tus, Crowned of God, Emperor of the Romans!"
Christianity possessed Europe now. The Bethlehem
Star, shining its eight centuries, lighted all the lands.



CONQUEROR, A. D. o166.

C HRISTMAS has been an eventful day in English
English life and literature are alike full of reference
to William of Normandy; to-day proud English nobles
boast that their ancestors came over with the Con-
queror. The conquest of England by William reads
like romance. He left the fair-skyed duchy of Nor-
mandy in September, io66. His fleet, gay with pen-
nants and gonfalons, numbered a thousand sails. His
own ship had silken sails of many colors made by his
duchess and her Norman maidens. On its prow a gold
boy pointed towards England. Its banner was three
Norman lions.
Young Harold, the English king, prepared to resist
the invasion. William landed his. army and marched
to Hastings. Here the two armies met. The English
forces, all-confident, passed the night before the battle
in feasting, young Harold little dreaming that this revel
under the October moon would be his last banquet. In
the morning Duke William rode forth from the Norman


camp on a beautiful Barbary horse. The standard of
the Three Norman Lions was borne after him. His
army advanced, singing the great war-song of Roland.
The fight began early on that golden October day.
William's beautiful horse was killed. His soldiers, sup-
posing their king wounded, wavered. I am living,"
cried Duke William, "and I will conquer!" And that
night the standard of the Three Norman Lions waved
over the field. Young Harold was found dead. His body
was identified by one who loved him, the swan-necked
Edith. "Infelix Harold," they inscribed on his tomb.
William hastened to Westminster to be crowned while
the conquered people were helpless through fear. It
was a Christmas Day. The English in London had
expected to celebrate the festival in the Abbey, but the
Conqueror demanded the church for his coronation.
He surrounded it with battalions of.Normans. He en-
tered it with his barons, and the coronation rites began.
The ceremony was interrupted by a tumult without that
ended in a slaughter of his new English subjects.
But the Christmas crown of England did not bring
joy to the Conqueror. He is said to have been a most
unhappy and remorseful man.
Dark were those days; but the Star of Peace and
Good Will was still shining. V

* ---



I .: /


The clocks were stopped at the banguet-hour."

AN ivy spray in my hand I hold,
The kindly ivy that covers the mould
Of ruined halls; it was brought to me
From Kenilworth Castle, over the sea -
O, Ivy, Ivy, I think of that Queen,
Who once swept on her way through the oak walls
To Kenilworth, far in the gathering glooms,
Her cavalcade white with silver plumes.
They are gone, all gone, those knights of old,
With their red-cross banners and spurs of gold,
And thou dost cover their castle's mould,
O, Ivy, Ivy, kind and true!

O, Ivy, Ivy -I see that hour.
The great bell strikes in the signal-tower,
The banners lift in the ghostly moon,
The bards Provenqal their harps attune,
The fiery fountains play on the lawns,
The glare of the rocket startles the fawns,


The trumpets peal, and roll the drums,
And the Castle thunders, "She comes, she comes!"
They are gone, all gone, those knights of old,
With their red-cross banners and spurs of gold,
And thou dost cover their castle's mould,
O, Ivy, Ivy, kind and true!

But hark! the notes of the culverin!
To the Castle's portal, trooping in,
A thousand courtiers torches bear,
And the turrets flame in the dusty air.
The Castle is ringing, All hail all hail! "
Ride slowly, O, Queen! 'mid the walls of mail,
And now let the courtliest knight of all
Lead thy jeweled feet to the banquet hall;
A thousand goblets await thee there,
And the great clocks lift their faces in air.
They are gone, all gone, those knights of old,
With their red-cross banners and spurs of gold,
And thou dost cover their castle's mould,
O, Ivy, Ivy, kind and true!

O, Ivy true, 0, Ivy old,
The great clocks stare on the cups of gold
Like dreadful eyes, and their hands pass on
The festive minutes, one by one.


-" Dying dying," they seem to say -
" This too this too shall pass away,"
And the knights look up, and the knights look down,
And their fair white brows on the great clocks frown.
They are gone, all gone, those knights of old,
With their red-cross banners and spurs of gold,
And thou dost cover their castle's mould,
O, Ivy, Ivy, kind and true!

On the dais the Queen now stands-and falls
A silence deep on the blazing halls;
She opes her lips but, hark! now dare
The clocks to beat in the stillness there ?
- Dying dying," they seem to say-
" This too this too shall pass away! "
And the Queen looks up, and with stony stare
The high clocks look on the proud Queen there.
They are gone, all gone, those knights of old,
With their red-cross banners and spurs of gold,
And thou dost cover their castle's mould,
O, Ivy, Ivy, kind and true!

Then the dark knights say, "What is wanting here ?"
"That the hour should last"-so said a peer.
The hour shall last! the proud earl calls;
Ho! Stop the clocks in the banquet halls! "


And the clocks' slow pulses of death were stilled,
And the gay earl smiled, and the wine was spilled,
And'the:jeweled Queen at the dumb clocks laughed,
And the flashing goblet raised and quaffed.
They are gone, all gone, those knights of old,
With their red-cross banners and spurs of gold,
And thou dost cover their castle's mould,
O, Ivy, Ivy, kind and true !

But time went on, though the clocks were dead;
O'er the dewy oaks rose the morning red.
The earl of that sun-crowned castle died,
And never won the Queen for his bride,
And the Queen grew old, and withered, and gray,
And at last in her halls of state she lay
On her silken cushions, bejeweled, but poor,
And the courtiers listened without the door.
They are gone, all gone, those knights of old,
With their red-cross banners and spurs of gold,
And thou dost cover their castle's mould,
O, Ivy, Ivy, kind and true !

The twilight flushes the arrased hall,
The Night comes still, and her velvet pall
Of diamonds cold drops from her hand,
And still as the stars is the star-lit land.


Men move like ghosts through the Castle's rooms,
But the old clocks talk 'mid the regal glooms:
-" Dying-dying," they seem to say,
Till the astrals pale in the light of day.
They are gone, all gone, those knights of old,
With their, red-cross banners and spurs of gold,
And thou dost cover their castle's mould,
O, Ivy, Ivy, kind and true!

O, Ivy true, as they listen there,
On the helpless Queen the great clocks stare
And over and over again they say,
" This too this too shall pass away."
And she clasps the air with her fingers old,
And the hall is shadowy, empty and cold.
" Life! life she cries, "my all would I give
For a moment, one moment, 0, Time, to live !"
They are gone, all gone, those knights of old,
With their red-cross banners and spurs of gold,
And thou dost cover their castle's mould,
O, Ivy, Ivy, kind and true!

On her crownless brow fell white her hair,
And she buried her face in her cushions there:
" One moment! "- it echoed through the hall,
But the clock stopped not on the arrased wall.


There is a palace whose dial towers
Uplift no record of vanishing hours,
Disease comes not to its doors, nor falls
Death's dusty step in its golden halls.
And more than crowns, or castles old,
Or red-cross banners, or spurs of gold,
That palace key it is to hold,
O, Ivy, Ivy, kind and true !


T HROUGH the darkness the Christmas Star still
breaks its way onward. For England there was
a long, gloomy period. King John -that Herod who
doomed Prince Arthur, that English Innocent, to be
murdered because the boy had the right to the throne, -
was ever an oppressive and bloody man; and at last the
English barons agreed to compel him to give a promise
that their rights should be recognized and protected.
This revolt of the barons against their king was the
beginning of English liberty. They met on November
20, 1213. They placed their hands upon an altar and
solemnly swore, one after another, that should King John
refuse to grant a Charter of Rights, they would not only
withdraw their allegiance, but they would wage war
against him. This act was the English Declaration of
The king was soon shown a sign of their feeling.
Christmas Day came. King John waited in vain at his
royal hall in Worcester for the barons to come and pay
him the customary Christmas homage. It was a day of
dark moment to him. At night glad Christmas lights


blazed in many an old baronial castle, but the glory had
departed from the halls of the tyrant king. He read his
impending fate in the silence and gloom. He fled to
London. He shut himself up in the fortress of the
Templars. But the barons followed him there. On the
day of Epiphany, they haughtily presented themselves, -
not with allegiance, but with demands for the Charter.
"Give me until Easter to consider this," the king said
at last with paling face.
At Easter the barons again appeared before him.
" Why do they not ask for my crown? he said. I
will not grant them liberties that would make me a
slave," he added angrily.
The barons summoned their knights. The king found
himself deserted by his. nobles and his people. After
gloomy delay, I will grant the Charter," he said sullenly;
and he grudgingly named time and place, Runnymede,
June 15. That day became famous in English history,
for King John, however grudgingly, kept his word.
Four centuries later, on another Christmas day, 1688,
the English Parliament called the wise and good William,
Prince of Orange, to accept the English crown. So,
through the years, light and gladness were growing for
the people.



T HE first "Still Christmas" in England occurred
in 1525. Henry the Eighth was king, and he
had not yet forfeited the respect of his subjects; but
great political events were at hand.
In December the King was sick. The nation was
filled with anxiety. It was decided that the Christmas
should be a silent one; there were no carols, bells or
Silent Christmases were proclaimed in the Protecto-
rate of Cromwell. The festival was altogether abolished,
and the display of the emblems of the Nativity was held
to be seditious.
The change was most notable in London. There was
silence on the Strand. The church bells were still. St.
Paul lifted its white roofs over the Thames, and West-
minster Abbey its towers, but the tides of happy people
in holiday attire no more poured in and out of those
ancient fanes. The holly and ivy no more appeared in
the windows of the rich and the poor. The Yule fires
were not kindled, nor the.carols sung.


Bells indeed rung out on the frosty air, but how dif-
ferent from the chimes of old! They were the hand-bells
of the heralds in simple garb passing from street to street
and smiting the air and crying out:
No Christmas No Christmas !"
Heads filled the windows and figures the doors.
Crowds stopped on the corners of the streets and in the
squares. The cry went on:
No Christmas No Christmas !"
It smote the hearts of those who loved the old ways
and customs. But the spirit of the time was not lost.
In the silence of the long procession of English festivals,
the law of Christ was not the less obeyed. It was a
period of great morality and fruitful piety. A period
when the nation was conscientious and strong. The
Star of Bethlehem was still shining.
A great change followed the Restoration. The Christ-
mas bells rung out once more. The waits again sung
their carols at the gates of the old feudal halls. There
were merry-makings under the evergreens. It was at
one of the Court Christmases of these years that Charles
knighted a loin of beef, and gave it the name of Sir
Loin." The festival in the days of this merrie monarch"
became a revel, after the Puritan silence.

_- t 4 ,

*'T ", ,:"t

.,- ?,




N abbeys green that ring and chime,
In castles gray that blaze in air,
In palgraves' halls, in Rhenish rooms,
In Rome's old temples' odorous glooms,
Are song and mirth--'tis Christmas time -
'Tis Christmas on the Delaware."

He spake no star was in the sky -
He saw the misty torches glare,
He heard the ice floes grind the shores,
He heard the beat of muffled oars,
He heard the sea-gull's startled cry;
'Twas Christmas on the Delaware.

He once had heard the dual towers
Of Lincoln ring; St. Botolph bear
Its signal message to the seas;
And sung neathh ivied lattices
And shared the grace of festal hours;
'Twas Christmas on the Delaware.


Now- 'mid the swirl of snow and sleet,
He saw the serried torches flare,
And ice-mailed men with silent tread,
The Minute Men of Marblehead,
Move past like- ghosts no war drums beat-
'Twas Christmas on the Delaware.

He was a parson, and he dreamed
As bent his head in silent prayer,
Of singing skies and Ephrata;
Dark was the night without a star,
And yet faith's star above him gleamed -
'Twas Christmas on the Delaware.

0 men, ye may not know the way
Amid the wind and frozen air;
But forward move, and dare the tide -
If not the way, ye know your Guide,
Though drums beat not, nor bugles play "-
'Twas Christmas on the Delaware.

The foe, his Christmas revel kept,
Lay down; his torches ceased to flare -
He heard the north wind trump and blc;v,
He heard the mad rush of the snow,
And closely drew his cloak, and slept -
'Twas midnight on the Delaware.


They passed the white host dared the tide,
Led only by Faith's Star of prayer,
And victory won at dawn of day;
And when at night he knelt to pray,
The parson blessed the Unseen Guide,
The Pilot of the Delaware.

O Pilot Star of Faith, whose light
Illumines life's celestial air;
The Magi's camels leading on,
The frozen oars of Washington,
In cloud as in the azure bright,
The storm star of the Delaware,

Thou art the Light that will not set
As long as human feet shall fare!
When other lands their tales disclose
'Mid festive lamps and mistletoes,
Let not our nation's heart forget
The Christmas on the Delaware.


A GENOESE mariner believes himself born to
carry the gospel of Christ to an unknown people
and an undiscovered world, a world lying in the myste-
rious waters of the West. He travels from city to city
seeking a powerful patron, until at Santa Fe in the south
of Europe takes place the memorable meeting with the
king and queen of Spain.
With an equipment of three ships he looses from
Palos and sails to the mysterious waters whose secret
shores no eye has seen. Golden days come and go;
nights of calm, and new stars. Near midnight on the
eleventh of October, 1492, he sees a light in the far hori-
zon, knows his destiny accomplished, is sure God has
fulfilled the prophetic meaning of his name Columbus,
the seeking dove. Morning comes; the New World
stands revealed; he leaps on shore, unfurls the banner
and cross of Castile and sings Te Deums.
The missionary mariner sails away again. He dis-
covers Hispaniola, and here he and his followers offer
the first Christmas devotions in the New World.



Santa Fe, on the Rio Grande, was probably the place
where the first Christmas anthem was sung in our own
land. Coronado visited the region in search of the Seven
Cities of Gold almost one hundred years before the M~ay-
flower sailed into the Christmas-tide storm of Province-
town Bay. The Franciscan missionaries soon followed.
How poetic must have been the first Christmases in
the new-born town! The mission church is surrounded
with mountains whose summits are covered with eternal
snow. The sun of the fitful December day goes down
leaving every peak a colossal monument of light and
splendor. Evening's curtains fall. It is vespers. Down
the light ladders of the pueblos come the descendants
of a race unknown, and make their way to the church.
Music tells the tale of the Virgin and the Child. Then
arises the Gloria, and it floats out, like a breath from
the Bethlehem angels over the mighty solitudes that are
to become the habitations of the dominant race of the
world. The moon rises over the mountains and turns
into whiteness pueblos and chapel. In the bright air
stands the mystic sign of the cross like a shadow, and
there ascends heavenward in the silence the sweet words,
in the Latin tongue, On eart, peace." The star that
shone over Bethlehem and the nations of the East, has
risen upon the West.

A. D. 1620.

SO the Christmas Days of the New World begin.
Champlain died in the Castle of St. Louis, Que-
bec, on Christmas Day. The French Christians cele-
brated the day at Port Royal, Canada, and in all the
settlements of New France.
The Christmas of the Mayflower was a doubtful and
dreary day a day of toil and hardship. Christmas
night brought a storm of high wind and rain, the vessel
tossed, and although Puritans in sentiment and life, the
Pilgrims must at the evening Bible-reading, have thought
of the sweet chimes of Lincoln, the white-crowned
towers of the brightly-lighted English fanes, and the
glad household festivities of the home-country.
In the Chronicles of the Pilgrims may be found the
following extract:

Munday the 25th day we went on shore to fell some timber, some to rive (hew),
and some to carry. So no man rested all that day.
Monday the 25th, being Christmas Day, we began to drink water aboard, but
at night the Master caused us to have some Beere, and so on board we had diverse
times now and then some Beere, but on shore none at alL

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