of war, for it pricked me right smartly. Truly the King of Zowega
deals in riddles which I for one cannot read! Take it, my dear," added
he to the Queen and pointing to the token; "perchance your quick wits
may be able to understand this mystery."
She picked up the token and examined it carefully.
It rather resembled the branch of a tree, but the leaves were thick
and resisting and edged with very sharp spikes, and there was on it a
cluster of round, bright red objects like tiny balls. But even as it
had pricked the King so did it prick her, and she dropped it hastily
into the lap of the Eldest Princess, who was sitting beside her.
"Paradighty!" exclaimed the Queen in her own language. "It is
certainly a beast. See, it has horns!" and she pointed to the spikes.
"But I certainly cannot read the riddle--if riddle it be."
Then it was passed to all the Princesses in turn, but they could not
read the token any more than could the King and Queen. At last it
reached the Youngest Princess, and, though it pricked her little hands
sorely, she took it up tenderly and kissed it.
"'Tis a token of love," said she.
The messenger turned his shining eyes full upon her.
"The Princess has read the riddle of the token aright," said he, and
he stepped forward as though to kiss her hand.
"Stay!" said the King imperiously springing to his feet. "A token of
love, forsooth! But I sent the King of Zowega a Declaration of War!
What does he mean by sending me a token of love? The Princess must
certainly be mistaken--and as for _you_," he continued, turning
fiercely to the messenger, "you shall be marched off to prison until
we have had time to consult with our Wise Men as to the real meaning
of this extraordinary token."
So there and then the messenger was marched off to spend the night in
prison, and all the Wise Men in the kingdom were bidden to appear in
the Council Chamber the very next day, especially one very old Wise
Man from the East who was reputed to be wiser than all the others put
together.
The next day, of course, was Christmas Day, but, as these people had
never heard of Christmas, there were no bells ringing, no carols were
sung, and there was neither holly, ivy nor mistletoe upon the walls.
Slowly and painfully the Wise Men began to arrive.
They were all dressed alike, in black flowing robes, and on their
heads they wore long pointed black caps covered with weird devices.
The very old Wise Man from the East wore a red pointed cap, but in all
other respects was dressed just like the others.
They assembled round a large circular table at one end of the Hall. In
the middle of the table was placed the token.
At the other end of the Hall were gathered the warriors, and above
them on a double throne sat the King and Queen with the Princesses
grouped on either side of the dais.
The Wise Men examined the token in silence.
"'Tis a curious beast," said one of them at last.
"Of a new and quite unheard-of species," said another.
"It has neither legs nor tail," said a third.
"Yet it has a number of globular red eyes," said a fourth.
"And it certainly has horns," said a fifth.
And so said they all, until it came to the turn of the very old Wise
Man from the East.
He looked long at the token.
"It has horns," said he at last, "but it is not a beast."
"Not a beast!" said they, one to the other.
"But what is it then?"
"It is a token of love," said he.
"Highty-tighty," interrupted the King. "Read us then the full meaning
of the token."
"I cannot," said the very old Wise Man; "but let the youth be brought
hither who carried it. He will be able to explain it more fully than
I."
"Paradighty!" said the Queen in her own language. "Why did we not
think of that before! Fetch him back again at once!"
So two of the warriors fetched the youth from prison, and he was soon
standing before the Assembly, with his head held as high and his eyes
as bright and shining as before.
"Read us the token!" commanded the King.
The youth bowed low. "The Princess read it aright yesterday. It is a
token of love."
"Explain yourself!" said the King. "How can a beast with horns be a
token of love?"
The youth drew himself up to his full height.
"It is not a beast," said he. "It is the branch of a holly-tree. On
this day of the year, which in my country we call Christmas Day, our
people decorate their houses with branches of this holly or holy tree
as a token of love and peace and good-will. This is the message that I
have brought to you--a message that we in our country know very well,
but which you have never heard before."
The King and the Warriors, the Wise Men, the Queen and Princesses all
listened to his words in silence.
When he had ended there was a long pause.
"And in what particular way does your message affect us?" said the
King at last.
"Thus, your Majesty," answered the youth, approaching the Youngest
Princess and taking both her hands in his, "on this day I, Prince
Moldo, would have peace and good-will between my kingdom and your
kingdom; and I would seal it for ever by taking the Youngest Princess
home with me as my bride. You, O King, recognized me not, for I have
much changed since I lived here with her for playfellow, but in all my
wanderings I found a Pearl of no greater price than this, and I would
proclaim to all the world that the Secret of Happiness is Love."
So on that very Christmas Day they were married, amid great
rejoicings, and war ceased throughout the kingdom. And on every
Christmas Day for ever after, the people of that country decorated
their houses with holly, the symbol of love and peace and good-will,
and wished each other a Merry Christmas, even as I do now to you.
THE WILLOW MAN
There once was a Willow, and he was very old,
And all his leaves fell off from him, and left him in the cold;
But ere the rude winter could buffet him with snow,
There grew upon his hoary head a crop of Mistletoe.
All wrinkled and furrowed was this old Willow's skin
His taper fingers trembled, and his arms were very thin;
Two round eyes and hollow, that stared but did not see,
And sprawling feet that never walked, had this most ancient tree.
A Dame who dwelt a-near was the only one who knew
That every year upon his head the Christmas berries grew;
And when the Dame cut them, she said--it was her whim--
"A merry Christmas to you, Sir," _and left a bit for him_.
"Oh, Granny dear, tell us," the children cried, "where we
May find the shining mistletoe that grows upon the tree?"
At length the Dame told them, but cautioned them to mind
To greet the willow civilly, _and leave a bit behind_.
"Who cares," said the children, "for this old Willow-man?
We'll take the Mistletoe, and he may catch us if he can."
With rage the ancient Willow shakes in every limb,
For they have taken all, and _have not left a bit for him_.
Then bright gleamed the holly, the Christmas berries shone
But in the wintry wind, without the Willow-man did moan:
"Ungrateful, and wasteful! the mystic Mistletoe
A hundred years hath grown on me, but never more shall grow."
A year soon passed by, and the children came once more,
But not a sprig of Mistletoe the aged Willow bore.
Each slender spray pointed; he mocked them in his glee,
And chuckled in his wooden heart, that ancient Willow-tree.
O children, who gather the spoils of wood and wold,
From selfish greed and wilful waste your little hands withhold.
Though fair things be common, this moral bear in mind,
"Pick thankfully and modestly, _and leave a bit behind_."
Juliana Horatia Ewing.
THE IVY GREEN
Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
That creepeth o'er ruins old!
Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,
In his cell so lone and cold.
The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed
To pleasure his dainty whim;
And the mouldering dust that years have made,
Is a merry meal for him.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.
Charles Dickens.
LEGEND OF SAINT NICHOLAS
Amy Steedman
Of all the saints that little children love is there any to compare
with Santa Claus? The very sound of his name has magic in it, and
calls up visions of well-filled stockings, with the presents we
particularly want peeping over the top, or hanging out at the side,
too big to go into the largest sock. Besides, there is something so
mysterious and exciting about Santa Claus, for no one seems to have
ever seen him. But we picture him to ourselves as an old man with a
white beard, whose favourite way of coming into our rooms is down the
chimney, bringing gifts for the good children and punishments for the
bad.
Yet this Santa Claus, in whose name the presents come to us at
Christmas time, is a very real saint, and we can learn a great deal
about him, only we must remember that his true name is Saint
Nicholas. Perhaps the little children, who used to talk of him long
ago, found Saint Nicholas too difficult to say, and so called him
their dear Santa Claus. But we learn, as we grow older, that Nicholas
is his true name, and that he is a real person who lived long years
ago, far away in the East.
The father and mother of Nicholas were noble and very rich, but what
they wanted most of all was to have a son. They were Christians, so
they prayed to God for many years that He would give them their
hearts' desire; and when at last Nicholas was born, they were the
happiest people in the world.
They thought there was no one like their boy; and indeed, he was wiser
and better than most children, and never gave them a moment's trouble.
But alas, while he was still a child, a terrible plague swept over the
country, and his father and mother died, leaving him quite alone.
All the great riches which his father had possessed were left to
Nicholas, and among other things he inherited three bars of gold.
These golden bars were his greatest treasure, and he thought more of
them than all the other riches he possessed.
Now in the town where Nicholas lived there dwelt a nobleman with three
daughters. They had once been very rich, but great misfortunes had
overtaken the father, and now they were all so poor they had scarcely
enough to live upon.
At last a day came when there was not even bread enough to eat, and
the daughters said to their father:
"Let us go into the streets and beg, or do anything to get a little
money, that we may not starve."
But the father answered:
"Not to-night. I cannot bear to think of it. Wait at least until
to-morrow. Something may happen to save my daughters from such
disgrace."
Now, just as they were talking together, Nicholas happened to be
passing, and as the window was open he heard all that the poor father
said. It seemed terrible to think that a noble family should be so
poor and actually in want of bread, and Nicholas tried to plan how it
would be possible to help them. He knew they would be much too proud
to take money from him, so he had to think of some other way. Then he
remembered his golden bars, and that very night he took one of them
and went secretly to the nobleman's house, hoping to give the treasure
without letting the father or daughters know who brought it.
To his joy Nicholas discovered that a little window had been left
open, and by standing on tiptoe he could reach it. So he lifted the
golden bar and slipped it through the window, never waiting to hear
what became of it, in case any one should see him. (And now do you see
the reason why the visits of Santa Claus are so mysterious?)
Inside the house the poor father sat sorrowfully watching, while his
children slept. He wondered if there was any hope for them anywhere,
and he prayed earnestly that heaven would send help. Suddenly
something fell at his feet, and to his amazement and joy, he found it
was a bar of pure gold.
"My child," he cried, as he showed his eldest daughter the shining
gold, "God has heard my prayer and has sent this from heaven. Now we
shall have enough and to spare. Call your sisters that we may rejoice
together, and I will go instantly and change this treasure."
The precious golden bar was soon sold to a money-changer, who gave so
much for it that the family were able to live in comfort and have all
that they needed. And not only was there enough to live upon, but so
much was over that the father gave his eldest daughter a large dowry,
and very soon she was happily married.
When Nicholas saw how much happiness his golden bar had brought to the
poor nobleman he determined that the second daughter should have a
dowry too. So he went as before and found the little window again
open, and was able to throw in the second golden bar as he had done
the first. This time the father was dreaming happily, and did not find
the treasure until he awoke in the morning. Soon afterwards the second
daughter had her dowry and was married too.
The father now began to think that, after all, it was not usual for
golden bars to fall from heaven, and he wondered if by any chance
human hands had placed them in his room. The more he thought of it the
stranger it seemed, and he made up his mind to keep watch every night,
in case another golden bar should be sent as a portion for his
youngest daughter.
And so when Nicholas went the third time and dropped the last bar
through the little window, the father came quickly out, and before
Nicholas had time to hide, caught him by his cloak.
"O Nicholas," he cried, "is it thou who hast helped us in our need?
Why didst thou hide thyself?" And then he fell on his knees and began
to kiss the hands that had helped him so graciously.
But Nicholas bade him stand up and give thanks to God instead, warning
him to tell no one the story of the golden bars.
This was only one of the many kind acts Nicholas loved to do, and it
was no wonder that he was beloved by all who knew him.
Soon afterwards Nicholas made up his mind to enter God's service as a
priest. He longed above all things to leave the world and live as a
hermit in the desert, but God came to him in a vision and told him he
must stay in the crowded cities and do his work among the people.
Still his desire to see the deserts and the hermits who lived there
was so great that he went off on a journey to Egypt and the Holy Land.
But remembering what God had bade him do he did not stay there but
returned to his own country.
On the way home a terrific storm arose, and it seemed as if the ship
he was in must be lost. The sailors could do nothing, and great waves
dashed over the deck, filling the ship with water. But just as all had
given up hope, Nicholas knelt and prayed to God to save them, and
immediately a calm fell upon the angry sea. The winds sank to rest and
the waves ceased to lash the sides of the ship so that they sailed
smoothly on, and all danger passed.
Thus Nicholas returned home in safety, and went to live in the city of
Myra. His ways were so quiet and humble that no one knew much about
him, until it came to pass one day that the Archbishop of Myra died.
Then all the priests met to choose another archbishop, and it was made
known to them by a sign from heaven that the first man who should
enter the church next morning should be the bishop whom God had
chosen.
Now Nicholas used to spend most of his nights in prayer and always
went very early to church, so next morning just as the sun was rising
and the bells began to ring for the early mass, he was seen coming up
to the church door and was the first to enter. As he knelt down
quietly to say his prayers as usual, what was his surprise to meet a
company of priests who hailed him as their new archbishop, chosen by
God to be their leader and guide. So Nicholas was made Archbishop of
Myra to the joy of all in the city who knew and loved him.
Not long after this there was great trouble in the town of Myra, for
the harvests of that country had failed and a terrible famine swept
over the land. Nicholas, as a good bishop should, felt the suffering
of his people as if it were his own, and did all he could to help
them.
He knew that they must have corn or they would die, so he went to the
harbour where two ships lay filled with grain, and asked the captains
if they would sell him their cargo. They told the bishop they would
willingly do so, but it was already sold to merchants of another
country and they dared not sell it over again.
"Take no thought of that," said Nicholas, "only sell me some of thy
corn for my starving people, and I promise thee that there shall be
nought wanting when thou shalt arrive at thy journey's end."
The captains believed in the bishop's promise and gave him as much
corn as he asked. And behold! when they came to deliver their cargo to
the owners, there was not a bag lacking.
There are many stories told about the good bishop. Like his Master, he
ever went about doing good; and when he died, there were a great many
legends told about him, for the people loved to believe that their
bishop still cared for them and would come to their aid. We do not
know if all these legends are true, but they show how much Saint
Nicholas was loved and honoured even after his death, and how every
one believed in his power to help them.
Here is one of the stories which all children who love Saint Nicholas
will like to hear.
There was once a nobleman who had no children and who longed for a son
above everything else in the world. Night and day he prayed to Saint
Nicholas that he would grant him his request, and at last a son was
born. He was a beautiful child, and the father was so delighted and so
grateful to the saint who had listened to his prayers that, every year
on the child's birthday, he made a great feast in honour of Saint
Nicholas and a grand service was held in the church.
Now the Evil One grew angry each year when this happened, for it made
many people go to church and honour the good saint, neither of which
things pleased the Evil One at all. So each year he tried to think of
some plan that would put an end to these rejoicings, and he decided
at last that if only he could do some evil to the child the parents
would blame Saint Nicholas and all would be well.
It happened just then to be the boy's sixth birthday and a greater
feast than ever was being held. It was late in the afternoon, and the
gardener and porter and all the servants were away keeping holiday,
too. So no one noticed a curious-looking pilgrim who came and sat
close to the great iron gates which led into the courtyard. He had on
the ordinary robe of a poor pilgrim, but the hood was drawn so far
over his face that nothing but a dark shadow could be seen inside. And
indeed that was as well, for this pilgrim was a demon in disguise, and
his wicked, black face would have frightened any one who saw it. He
could not enter the courtyard for the great gates were always kept
locked, and, as you know, the porter was away that day, feasting with
all the other servants.
But, before very long, the little boy grew weary of his birthday
feast, and, having had all he wanted he begged to be allowed to go to
play in the garden. His parents knew that the gardener always looked
after him there, so they told him he might go. They forgot that the
gardener was not there just then.
The child played happily alone for some time and then wandered into
the courtyard, and looking out of the gate saw a poor pilgrim resting
there.
"What are you doing here?" asked the child, "and why do you sit so
still?"
"I am a poor pilgrim," answered the demon, trying to make his harsh
voice sound as gentle as possible, "and I have come all the way from
Rome. I am resting here because I am so weary and footsore and have
had nothing to eat all day."
"I will let you in, and take you to my father," said the child; "this
is my birthday, and no one must go hungry to-day."
But the demon pretended he was too weak to walk, and begged the boy to
bring some food out to him.
Then the child ran back to the banquet hall in a great hurry and said
to his father:
"O father, there is a poor pilgrim from Rome sitting outside our gate,
and he is so hungry, may I take him some of my birthday feast?"
The father was very pleased to think that his little son should care
for the poor and wish to be kind, so he willingly gave his permission
and told one of the servants to give the child all that he wanted.
Then as the demon sat eating the good things he began to question the
boy and tried to find out all that he could about him.
"Do you often play in the garden?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," said the child. "I play there whenever I may, for in the
midst of the lawn there is a beautiful fountain, and the gardener
makes me boats to sail on the water."
"Will he make you one to-day?" asked the demon quickly.
"He is not here to-day," answered the child, "for this is a holiday
for every one and I am quite alone."
Then the demon rose to his feet slowly and said he felt so much better
after the good food that he thought he could walk a little and would
like very much to come in and see the beautiful garden and the
fountain he had heard about.
So the child climbed up and with great difficulty drew back the bolts.
The great gates swung open and the demon walked in.
As they went along together towards the fountain the child held out
his little hand to lead the pilgrim, but even the demon shrunk from
touching anything so pure and innocent, and folded his arms under his
robe, so that the child could only hold by a fold of his cloak.
"What strange kind of feet you have," said the child as they walked
along; "they look as if they belonged to an animal."
"Yes, they are curious," said the demon, "but it is just the way they
are made."
Then the child began to notice the demon's hands, which were even more
curious than his feet, and just like paws of a bear. But he was too
courteous to say anything about them, when he had already mentioned
the feet.
Just then they came to the fountain, and with a sudden movement the
demon threw back his hood and showed his dreadful face. And before
the child could scream he was seized by those hairy hands and thrown
into the water.
But just at that moment the gardener was returning to his work and saw
from a distance what had happened. He ran as fast as he could, but he
only got to the fountain in time to see the demon vanish, while the
child's body was floating on the water. Very quickly he drew him out,
and carried him, all dripping wet, up to the castle, where they tried
to bring him back to life. But, alas! it all seemed of no use; he
neither moved nor breathed, and the day that had begun with such
rejoicing, ended in the bitterest woe. The poor parents were
heart-broken, but they did not quite lose hope and prayed earnestly to
Saint Nicholas who had given them the child, that he would restore
their boy to them again.
As they prayed by the side of the little bed where the body of the
child lay, they thought something moved, and to their joy and surprise
the boy opened his eyes and sat up, and in a short time was as well
as ever.
They asked him eagerly what had happened, and he told them all about
the pilgrim with the queer feet and hands, who had gone with him to
the fountain and had then thrown back his hood and shown his terrible
face. After that he could remember nothing until he found himself in a
beautiful garden, where the loveliest flowers grew. There were lilies
like white stars, and roses far more beautiful than any he had ever
seen in his own garden, and the leaves of the trees shone like silver
and gold. It was all so beautiful that for a while he forgot his home,
and when he did remember and tried to find his way back, he grew
bewildered and did not know in what direction to turn. As he was
looking about, an old man came down the garden path and smiled so
kindly upon him that he trusted him at once. This old man was dressed
in the robes of a bishop, and had a long white beard and the sweetest
old face the child had ever seen.
"Art thou searching for the way home?" the old man asked. "Dost thou
wish to leave this beautiful garden and go back to thy father and
mother?"
"I want to go home," said the child, with a sob in his voice, "but I
cannot find the way, and I am, oh, so tired of searching for it."
Then the old man stooped down and lifted him in his arms, and the
child laid his head on the old man's shoulder, and, weary with his
wandering, fell fast asleep and remembered nothing more till he woke
up in his own little bed.
Then the parents knew that Saint Nicholas had heard their prayers and
had gone to fetch the child from the Heavenly Garden and brought him
back to them.
So they were more grateful to the good saint than ever, and they loved
and honoured him even more than they had done before; which was all
the reward the demon got for his wicked doings.