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THE CHIMES PANG
Sb, lig,
3K Dy RAYMOND MACDONALD ALDEN -
Zs ILLUSTRATIONS BY MAYO BUNKER. “un
HERE was once, in a
a far-away country, a
wondgeriul church. It
stood on a high hill
in the midst of a
great city; and every
Sunday, as well as on
jl sacred days like
Christmas, thousands
of people climbed the
hill to its great archways, look-
ing like lines of ants all moving
in the same direction.
At one corner of the church was a
great gray tower, with ivy growing
over it as far up as one could
see. 1 say as far as one could
see, because the tower was
quite great enough to fit the
great church, and it rose so fai
into the sky that it was only in
very fair weather that any one
claimed to be able to sce the top.
Now all the people knew that at the.
top of the tower was a chime of Christ.
mas bells, They had hung there ever
since the church had been built, and Ten,
were the most beantiful bells in the world, Some thought it was because a
great musician had cast them and arranged them in their place; others said
it was because of the great height, which reached up where the air was clear-
est and purest; however that might Ye, no one Who had ever heard the chimes
denied that they were the sweetest in the world. Some described them as
sounding like angels far up In the sky; others, as sounding like strange winds
singing through the trees.
But the fact was that no one had heard them for ycars and years. They
were Christmas chimes, you see, and were not meant to be played by men or
on common days. It was the custom on Chritmas Eve for all the people to
bring to the church their offerings to the Christ-child; and when the greatest
and best offering was laid on the altar, there used to come sounding through
the music of the choir the Christma chimes far up in the tower. But for
many long years they had never been heard. It was said that people had
been growing less careful of their gifts for the Christ-child, and that no offer-
ing was brought, great enough to deserve the music of the chimes,
Every Christmas Eve the rich people still crowded to the altar, each one
trying to bring some better gift {hen any other, without giving anything that
he wanted for himself, and the church was crowded with those who thought
that perhaps the wonderful bells might be heard again, But although the
service was splendid, and the offerings plenty, only the roar of the wind
could be heard, far up in the stone tower.
Now. a number of miles from the city, in a little country village, where
nothing could be scen of the great church but glimpses of the tower when
the weather was fine, lived a hoy named Pedro, and his little brother. They
knew very little about the Christmas chimes, but they had heard of the
service in the church on Christmas ve, and had a secret plan, which they
pad often talked over when by themselves, to go to see the beautiful cele
bration.
“Nobody can guess, Little Brother,” Pedro would say, “all the fine thing.
there are to see and hear: and | have even heard it said that the Christ-child
sometimes comes down to bless the service. What if we could see Him?”
The day before Christmas was bitterly cold, with a few lonely snowflakes
flying in the air,
although the walking was hard in the frosty air, before nightfall they had
trudged so far, hand in hand, that they saw the lights of the biz city just
ahead of them.
the wall that surrounded it, when they saw something dark on the snow near
their path, and stopped to look at it.
It was a poor woman, who had fallen just
outside the city, too sick and tired to get in
where she might have found shelter. The
soft snow made of a drift a sort of pillow for
her. und she would soon he so sound asleep,
in the wintry air, that no one could ever
waken her again. All this Pedro saw in a
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tried to rouse her, even tugging at her arm
a little, as though he would have tried to
carry her away. He turned her face toward
him, so that he could rub some snow on it,
and when he had looked at her silently a
moment he stood up and said:
“It’s no use, Little Brother,
to go on alone.”
“Alone?” cried Little Brother.
not see the Christmas festival?”
“No,” said Pedro, and he could not keep
back a bit of a choking sound in his throat.
“See this poor woman. Her face looks like
the Madonna in the chapel window, and she
will freeze to death if nobody cares for her.
Every one has gone to church now, but when
vou come back vou can bring some one to
help her. I will rub her to keep her from
freezing, and perhaps get her to eat the bun
that ig left in my pocket.”
“Bat 1 cannot bear to leave you, and go on
alone,” said Little Brother.
“Both of us need not miss the service,”
said Pedro, “and it had better be I than you;
and oh! if you get = chance, Little Brother,
to slip up to the altar without getting in any
one's way, take this little piece of silver of
mine, and lay it down for my offering, when
no one is looking. Do not forget where you
have left me, and forgive me for not going
with vou.”
You will have
the tears, ag he heard the crunching foot
4 the twilight. 1 was pretty hard to lose the
y the Christmas celebration that he had been planning
for so long, and spend the time instead in that lonely place in the snow.
The great church was a wonderful place that night. Every one sald that ii
had never looked so bright and beautiful before. When the organ played ané
| the thousands of people sang the walls shook with the sound, and little Pedro
‘away outside the city wall, felt the earth tremble around him.
At the close of the service came the procession with the offerings to be
Indeed, they were about to enter one of the great gates in | qy4 eyes are not so bright and blue as
Pama ae ant mee aR
i
and a hard white crust on the ground. Sure enough, Pedro
and Little Brother were able to slip quietly away early in the afternoon; and | down the rations, either.
re
-— ————— -—
laid on the altar.
i their gifts to the Christ-child. Some brought wonderful jewels, some bas-
: kets of gold so heavy that they could scarcely carry them down the aisle.
iA great writer brought his book, and last of all walked the king of the country,
‘hoping with all the rest to win for himself the chime of the Christmas bells.
‘There went a great murmur through the church, as the people saw the king
rE EE LE EEE RL ee Ee Ew
Rich men and great men marched proudly up to lay down '
‘take from his head the royal crown, all set with precious
: stones, and lay it gleaming on the altar, as his offering to the
“Surely,” every one said, *
‘now, for nothing like this has ever happened before.”
‘But still only the cold wind was beard in the tower, and
: the people shook their heads: and some of them said, os they
‘had before, that they never really be
“holy Child.
‘chimes, and doubted if they ever rang
The procession was over, and the choir began the closing
Suddenly the organist stopped playing as though he
had been shot, and every oue looked at the old minister, who
. was standing by the altar, holding up bis hand for sllence,
Not a sound could be heard from anyone in the church, but
as the people strained their ears to listen, there came softly,
hymn.
.but distinctly, swinging throuzh
chimes in the tower.
the
they all stood up together and stared
‘see what great gift had awakened the
But all that the nearest of them saw
of Little Brother, who had crept softly down the aisle when
no one was looking, and had laid Pedro's little piece of silver
« by Bobbs- Merrill Coo
on the altar. (Copyright
So far away, and yet =o clear the music
seemed—s0 much sweeter were the notes than anything that
‘had been heard before, rising and falling away up there in the
sky, that the people in the church sat for a moment as still as
though something held each of them by the shoulders.
BE
Ne ‘sg’ .
‘we shall hear the bells i$ t:
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Hieved the story of the 1
at all, »
afr, the sound of the
Then
straight at the altar, to
long silent bells.
was the childish figure
Bebind the Gifi
By Barbara Lee
i
MERRY Christmas! |
You're welcome!
How have you en-
joyed the first few
hours today? Hasn't |
it been exciting and
interesting! Now that |
the first little calm
has come after the
storm, let us settle
backtolook once again
at gilts that are our
special fortune to own
in the great living
room. There's futner's git. Can't you
see dear old dad behind every page of
your favorite set of books? All calf,
too, and illustrated by the only artist
that appeals to you, What riches lie
in the pn’ of your hand as yeu look!
No one conn rob you of these, Every
yge means the door of a new treasure
pouse, flow good of deur father! 1
wonder how he knew? Ile must have
been lsioning when you and your
chum had that ripping di-cussion of {a-
vorites. And you can't understand how
he kuew the color of your collection,
Ah, well! ‘Trust a father.
Mother's dressing gown. She made
it unhelped and probably in the late
night hours after the very long day.
See how cleverly her fingers have
made three yards of cord look like
much more, The loops and buttons are
handmade; they cost so much less, and
vou know mother hasn't a bank ac-
count of her own. She has not cut
It's just her
|
| great, generous heart that has accom-
moment, and he knelt down beside her and .
' brother!
“And you!
Tn thig way he hurried Little Brother off |
fo the city, and winked hard to keep back
steps sounding farther and farther away in |
plished the seemingly impossible thing.
when she was the happy, laughing girl
that dad first loved. But she sees just
as far beneath the surface, and she
knows how much you long for some
things. Ah, what a world of sacrifice
and love stands behind these gifts.
Oh, my! Don’t smile, hut isn't this
just like that great, blundering cub of
a Bob? He must have paid five or six
dollars for this. Poor, misguided, stung
Now you can just see him
sauntering into the “art (save the
mark!) neediework” store. Do you see
his airy nonchalance as he casts his
¢ve over the pincushions arrayed in
«listening, satiny lines? How much
is this? And this? The latter being
the more expensive, was quickly
chosen. Oh, what ever are you going
to do with it? Bright pink satin, with
a suggestive bunch of bright forget-me-
nots blooming out from beneath a ruf-
fle of very cheap lace. You'll never
forget it. You know—the kind of
things you see at fairs. It may be the
reason! Perhaps the fair is an in-
stitution for helping hopeless pin-
cushions along an easy way.
But that's Bob for you! Care free,
blg hearted, a little rough on the es-
thetic edges, but ever willing to give
vou the best. Put back the abomina-
tion of satin and sawdust. Don’t hurt
his feelings, please, Thank him for his |
thought, Lis generosity. You can do
this without being a hypocrite.
Here's something that hurts. Why?
Oh, because it has been given to “get
ahead” of you. She has money and has
hought the most expensive of its kind
and has forgotten to remove the price!
She really should not have done this,
for she isn't one of your inner circle
and she doesn’t care for you. Money
stands back of this. Nothing more
than the dollar mark lies beneath the
lid. You know it, and a blush mounts
i
i
| Poor little boy!
: without pain.
to your cheeks when you think of the
few remarks that you heard the giver
make about vou at Laura's tea, Why
do people do these things?
Here's a qucer one. Lift up the box
lid again. It's an old shoe box, but
‘some loving hands have covered it
with two paper napkins and—Ilook at
the contents! A loaf of the finest
Dutch cake you ever tasted. Dear
Bridget never forgets you, does she?
In her litile four-roomed cottage, where
she's very happy and very busy, she
always bakes the bread that you rel
ish and sends her awkward husband up
with her best wishes every Christmas
day in the morning. What that cake
means only you and she can tell,
Let us look again at the little card
before you. What did that? A fear
falls on the colored church, with its
bright roof and another splashes on
the snow that iz piled with childish
prodigality at the roadside. A little
boy has drawn that all for you. He
calls you “Dear Ore,” and once he told
his mother that he felt sure that angels
look like you, but zhe corrected him, as
if a child could be stopped in harm.
less wonderings, and he never again
ventured along lines of comparison.
You know what that
card means! It means day and days
of work. It means the gratitude of a
crippled child who can't use a finger
And he hag drawn this
for you!
Oh, my, isn't this funny! That clown
of a Jack is up to his tricks again.
Je has bought a book for 49 cents and
has inked it with his foolish hand, add-
ing, “Reduced to $1.08” And to pile
Osta on Pelion, he has been addition
ally frank in suggesting that it's “tres
al
bum.” That man can always get
smile from you,
There, you've dropped something!
Don’t lose that. It's a letter, Are you
going to read it again? Why, you know
every word in it!
. “Dearest,” It says, “lI send you my
heart, my soul, my life's best thoughts |
and actions, Will you keep them? Ab,
no need to tell you what stands behind
the note. You know, don’t you?
That's why it ha ery |
8 yi Nas bews a very sappy iicarolg on Christmas day among their
‘Christmas!
————
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Some are an-hungered, some athirst.
Some are of sin and
Some are borne down with heavy woe,
shame accursed,
But in the Eve-star's heaven-glow
All are befriended, each has heard
Messages that bid him rejoice.
We are the ones that speak the Word—
Brother, my brother, it is His voice.
We go a-shuddering to the door
Sorrowing over all the want
Giving the gifts brought of our store
Into the hands by pain made gaunt
Nay, 'tis not ours that find the way
Into the dark and noisome street,
Bringing the cheer of Christmas day—
Brother, my brother, it is His feet.
Child lips to laughter alien-strange
Show us a miracle in this while,
When over them there comes a change—
When for the once they Know a smile.
Baubles we bring are jewels fair
Found in the distant wonderlands.—
Think you 'tis we who bring them there?
Brother, my brother, itis His hands.
Pulsing to us through the centuries
Murmurs forever
“As ye have done it
So have ye done
in one deep key:
to one of these
it unto Me.”
Give as we can, and gladly, too—
Out of the soul does the impulse start.
What is the throbbing in me and you?
Brother, my brother, itis Fis heart
ON EARLY CHRISTMAS DAYS FRIGHTENED BY SANTA CLAUS
Quaint and Interesting Customs That
Prevailed When the Church and
Festival Were Young.
In the early days of the churen, it is
sald that the bishops used to sing
clergy, and around the sixteenth cen-
"tury the well-known practice observed
by children of going around the neigh-
| borhood singing Christmas carols be-
neath the windows of the houses, was
commonly observel, usually taking
i place on Christmas morning. One of
CHRISTMAS THE CHILD'S DAY
By Rev. Brandford Leavitt.
Christmas is the child's day in the
‘Christian year, and how this weary |
‘and uneasy world needs the child-
like mind to save it from itself. What
is more subtly fitted to the needs of a
‘worn aud dissipated world then tbe
‘image of all that is alive and fresh
and unstained? It is the child in men
‘we look for and love-—again today the
child is the savior that answers a
smile with a smile, that responds to |
‘the confidence with confidence, ready
to take yon and me for what we would |
‘like to be and thus lifis us nearly to |
our ideal.
I have admired wit in men aud in- |
fluence and grace and beauiy in wom-
‘en and I find also that one disturbes |
‘these, grows indifferent to them as he |
gets older and sadder and wiser, but |
loves in men and women the little
‘child, longs for some one not to ad-
{ ‘mire nor praise nor be charmed po
but some one to love so that loving
‘shall be peace,
Our Gifts. i
As the Magi came bearing gifts, 80
do we also—gifts that relieve want; |
gifts that are sweet and fragrant with
friendship; gifts that breathe love;
that mean service; gifts inspired |
still by the star which shone over the |
City of Oavid, nearly two thousand |
years ago—Kate Douglas Wiggin. }
i
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i
i
the oldest and most beautiful of the
Christmas carols that has come down
to the present day open with these
words:
“God rest you, merry gentlemen,
Let nothing you dimay,
Yor Jesus Christ, our Savior,
Was born upon this day,
, To save us all from Satan's power,
When we were gone astray.
0, tidings of comfort and Joy!
For Jesus Christ, our Savior,
Was born on Christmas Day.”
It is sometimes more appropriate to
sing the Christmas carols on Christ
| mas eve than on Christmas day, al-
though they are sung at both times;
but in England the choir of the village
, church used to go around to the prin-
cipal houses in the parish and sing
some of these simple hymns on Christ.
mas eve regularly.
Frequently the singers were ac-
companied on some instrument and
often the picture presenfed was
pretty one. The figures of the group
of singers, only visible in the dark-
ness by the lanterns they carried. and
the sweet melody sung and played.
made the observance ua striking and
beautiful one.
Sometimes in England, the carols
were also sung in the churches in
place of the usual psalms and hymns;
although it was more customary for
the clerk ,at the close of the service
in a loud voice to wish all the congre-
gation a merry Christmas and a bap-
py New Year.
oo — -
How the Dear Old Saint Carried Con-
sternation Into an African Mis-
i sion House.
An amusing story of how Santa
Claug frightened the black children at
| a mission station when he first ap-
| peared to them a few years ago, is
! told by the wife of a missionary sta-
' tioned at Bailunda, Africa. They had
{ celebrated Christmas at Bailundu be-
| fore, but they never had had Santa
Claus, so Mr, Stover, the missionary,
dressed up as good Saint Nick.
“He had been padded and powdered
' and packed until his own mother
! would not have known him,” Mrs. Sto-
| ver afterward related. “Presently we
! gave the signal, the door flew open
! and in walked Santa Claus. But dear
{ me! What consternation! He was
| greeted with shrieks and groans and
‘cries of ‘Let me out! It is the evil
one, It is the day of judgment!’
' “The urchins, catching the infection
of terror from the older black people,
fled to their bedrooms, fell down upon
| their faces, crept under chairs and ta-
! bles—anywhere to hide themselves.
Poor old Santa Claus never had such
| a greeting before. As soon as he real-
! ized the panic he had caused, he tore
off his tall hat and white cotton beard.
Then from the bags on his back he
began to throw gifts right and left
and to tell who he was,
i
i
| “Reassured once more, everyone
| was, soon laughing and chatting,
! munching the great ‘red breads’
, (doughnuts), tasting their fruits or
nibbling at the sweets from the famil-
jar little hags.
“It seemed as though everyone tried
, to talk louder than his neighbor as
! they examined the costume of Santa
| Claus, whom they now no longer fear-
ed. One man said that he thought it
was John the Baptist, another that it
was Elijah returned. Yet another
thought it was Satan himself, ‘and all
L my sins rose up before me;’ while a
| fourth confessed, ‘My only thought’
- wag to hide myself”