A story of the Christ-child

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, on the night before Christmas,a little child was wandering all alone through the streets of a greatcity. There were many people on the treet, fathers and mothers,sisters and thers, uncles and aunts, and even -hairedgrandfathers and grandmothers, all of whom were hurrying home with
bundles of presents for each other and for their little ones. Fine
carriages rolled by, express wagons rattled past, even old carts were
pressed into service, and all things seemed in a hurry and glad with
expectation of the coming Christmas morning.

From some of the windows bright lights were already beginning to stream
until it was almost as bright as day. But the little child seemed to
have no home, and wandered about listlessly from street to street. No
one took any notice of him except perhaps Jack Frost, who bit his bare
toes and made the ends of his fingers tingle. The north wind, too,
seemed to notice the child, for it blew against him and pierced his
ragged garments through and through, causing him to shiver with cold.
Home after home he passed, looking with longing eyes through the
windows, in upon the glad, happy children, most of whom were helping to
trim the Christmas trees for the coming morrow.

"Surely," said the child to himself, "where there is so must gladness
and happiness, some of it may be for me." So with timid steps he
approached a large and handsome house. Through the windows, he could
see a tall and stately Christmas tree already lighted. Many presents
hung upon it. Its green boughs were trimmed with gold and silver
ornaments. Slowly he climbed up the broad steps and gently rapped at
the door. It was opened by a large man-servant. He had a kindly face,
although his voice was deep and gruff. He looked at the little child
for a moment, then sadly shook his head and said, "Go down off the
steps. There is no room here for such as you." He looked sorry as he
spoke; possibly he remembered his own little ones at home, and was glad
that they were not out in this cold and bitter night. Through the open
door a bright light shone, and the warm air, filled with fragrance of
the Christmas pine, rushed out from the inner room and greeted the
little wanderer with a kiss. As the child turned back into the cold and
darkness, he wondered why the footman had spoken thus, for surely,
thought he, those little children would love to have another companion
join them in their joyous Christmas festival. But the little children
inside did not even know that he had knocked at the door.

The street grew colder and darker as the child passed on. He went sadly
forward, saying to himself, "Is there no one in all this great city who
will share the Christmas with me?" Farther and farther down the street
he wandered, to where the homes were not so large and beautiful. There
seemed to be little children inside of nearly all the houses. They were
dancing and frolicking about. Christmas trees could be seen in nearly
every window, with beautiful dolls and trumpets and picture-books and
balls and tops and other dainty toys hung upon them. In one window the
child noticed a little lamb made of soft white wool. Around its neck
was tied a red ribbon. It had evidently been hung on the tree for one
of the children. The little stranger stopped before this window and
looked long and earnestly at the beautiful things inside, but most of
all was he drawn toward the white lamb. At last creeping up to the
window-pane, he gently tapped upon it. A little girl came to the window
and looked out into the dark street where the snow had now begun to
fall. She saw the child, but she only frowned and shook her head and
said, "Go away and come some other time. We are too busy to take care
of you now." Back into the dark, cold streets he turned again. The wind
was whirling past him and seemed to say, "Hurry on, hurry on, we have
no time to stop. 'Tis Christmas Eve and everybody is in a hurry
to-night."

Again and again the little child rapped softly at door or window-pane.
At each place he was refused admission. One mother feared he might have
some ugly disease which her darlings would catch; another father said
he had only enough for his own children and none to spare for beggars.
Still another told him to go home where he belonged, and not to trouble
other folks.

The hours passed; later grew the night, and colder grew the wind, and
darker seemed the street. Farther and farther the little one wandered.
There was scarcely any one left upon the street by this time, and the
few who remained did not seem to see the child, when suddenly ahead of
him there appeared a bright, single ray of light. It shone through the
darkness into the child's eyes. He looked up smilingly and said, "I
will go where the small light beckons, perhaps they will share their
Christmas with me."

Hurrying past all the other houses, he soon reached the end of the
street and went straight up to the window from which the light was
streaming. It was a poor, little, low house, but the child cared not
for that. The light seemed still to call him in. From what do you
suppose the light came? Nothing but a tallow candle which had been
placed in an old cup with a broken handle, in the window, as a glad
token of Christmas Eve. There was neither curtain nor shade to the
small, square window and as the little child looked in he saw standing
upon a neat wooden table a branch of a Christmas tree. The room was
plainly furnished but it was very clean. Near the fireplace sat a
lovely faced mother with a little two-year-old on her knee and an older
child beside her. The two children were looking into their mother's
face and listening to a story. She must have been telling them a
Christmas story, I think. A few bright coals were burning in the
fireplace, and all seemed light and warm within.

The little wanderer crept closer and closer to the window-pane. So
sweet was the mother's face, so loving seemed the little children, that
at last he took courage and tapped gently, very gently on the door. The
mother stopped talking, the little children looked up. "What was that,
mother?" asked the little girl at her side. "I think it was some one
tapping on the door," replied the mother. "Run as quickly as you can
and open it, dear, for it is a bitter cold night to keep any one
waiting in this storm." "Oh, mother, I think it was the bough of the
tree tapping against the window-pane," said the little girl. "Do please
go on with our story." Again the little wanderer tapped upon the door.
"My child, my child," exclaimed the mother, rising, "that certainly was
a rap on the door. Run quickly and open it. No one must be left out in
the cold on our beautiful Christmas Eve."

The child ran to the door and threw it wide open. The mother saw the
ragged stranger standing without, cold and shivering, with bare head
and almost bare feet. She held out both hands and drew him into the
warm, bright room. "You poor, dear child," was all she said, and
putting her arms around him, she drew him close to her breast. "He is
very cold, my children," she exclaimed. "We must warm him." "And,"
added the little girl, "we must love him and give him some of our
Christmas, too." "Yes," said the mother, "but first let us warm him--"

The mother sat down by the fire with the little child on her lap, and
her own little ones warmed his half-frozen hands in theirs. The mother
smoothed his tangled curls, and, bending low over his head, kissed the
child's face. She gathered the three little ones in her arms and the
candle and the fire light shone over them. For a moment the room was
very still. By and by the little girl said softly, to her mother, "May
we not light the Christmas tree, and let him see how beautiful it
looks?" "Yes," said the mother. With that she seated the child on a low
stool beside the fire, and went herself to fetch the few simple
ornaments which from year to year she had saved for her children's
Christmas tree. They were soon so busy that they did not notice the
room had filled with a strange and brilliant light. They turned and
looked at the spot where the little wanderer sat. His ragged clothes
had changed to garments white and beautiful; his tangled curls seemed
like a halo of golden light about his head; but most glorious of all
was his face, which shone with a light so dazzling that they could
scarcely look upon it.

In silent wonder they gazed at the child. Their little room seemed to
grow larger and larger, until it was as wide as the whole world, the
roof of their low house seemed to expand and rise, until it reached to
the sky.

With a sweet and gentle smile the wonderful child looked upon them for
a moment, and then slowly rose and floated through the air, above the
treetops, beyond the church spire, higher even than the clouds
themselves, until he appeared to them to be a shining star in the sky
above. At last he disappeared from sight. The astonished children
turned in hushed awe to their mother, and said in a whisper, "Oh,
mother, it was the Christ-Child, was it not?" And the mother answered
in a low tone, "Yes."

And it is said, dear children, that each Christmas Eve the little
Christ-Child wanders through some town or village, and those who
receive him and take him into their homes and hearts have given to them
this marvellous vision which is denied to others.

Little Gretchen and the wooden shoe

The following story is one of many which has drifted down to us from

the story-loving nurseries and hearthstones of Germany. I cannot recall

when I first had it told to me as a child, varied, of course, by

different tellers, but always leaving that sweet, tender impression of

God's loving care for the least of his children. I have since read

different versions of it in at least a half-dozen story books for

children.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, far away across the great ocean, in

a country called Germany, there could be seen a small log hut on the

edge of a great forest, whose fir-trees extended for miles and miles to

the north. This little house, made of heavy hewn logs, had but one room

in it. A rough pine door gave entrance to this room, and a small square

window admitted the light. At the back of the house was built an

old-fashioned stone chimney, out of which in winter usually curled a

thin, blue smoke, showing that there was not very much fire within.

Small as the house was, it was large enough for the two people who

lived in it. I want to tell you a story to-day about these two people.

One was an old, gray-haired woman, so old that the little children of

the village, nearly half a mile away, often wondered whether she had

come into the world with the huge mountains, and the great fir-trees,

which stood like giants back of her small hut. Her face was wrinkled

all over with deep lines, which, if the children could only have read

aright, would have told them of many years of cheerful, happy,

self-sacrifice, of loving, anxious watching beside sick-beds, of quiet

endurance of pain, of many a day of hunger and cold, and of a thousand

deeds of unselfish love for other people; but, of course, they could

not read this strange handwriting. They only knew that she was old and

wrinkled, and that she stooped as she walked. None of them seemed to

fear her, for her smile was always cheerful, and she had a kindly word

for each of them if they chanced to meet her on her way to and from the

village. With this old, old woman lived a very little girl. So bright

and happy was she that the travellers who passed by the lonesome little

house on the edge of the forest often thought of a sunbeam as they saw

her. These two people were known in the village as Granny Goodyear and

Little Gretchen.

The winter had come and the frost had snapped off many of the smaller

branches from the pine-trees in the forest. Gretchen and her Granny

were up by daybreak each morning. After their simple breakfast of

oatmeal, Gretchen would run to the little closet and fetch Granny's old

woollen shawl, which seemed almost as old as Granny herself. Gretchen

always claimed the right to put the shawl over her Granny's head, even

though she had to climb onto the wooden bench to do it. After carefully

pinning it under Granny's chin, she gave her a good-bye kiss, and

Granny started out for her morning's work in the forest. This work was

nothing more nor less than the gathering up of the twigs and branches

which the autumn winds and winter frosts had thrown upon the ground.

These were carefully gathered into a large bundle which Granny tied

together with a strong linen band. She then managed to lift the bundle

to her shoulder and trudged off to the village with it. Here she sold

the fagots for kindling wood to the people of the village. Sometimes

she would get only a few pence each day, and sometimes a dozen or more,

but on this money little Gretchen and she managed to live; they had

their home, and the forest kindly furnished the wood for the fire which

kept them warm in cold weather.

In the summer time Granny had a little garden at the back of the hut

where she raised, with little Gretchen's help, a few potatoes and

turnips and onions. These she carefully stored away for winter use. To

this meagre supply, the pennies, gained by selling the twigs from the

forest, added the oatmeal for Gretchen and a little black coffee for

Granny. Meat was a thing they never thought of having. It cost too much

money. Still, Granny and Gretchen were very happy, because they loved

each other dearly. Sometimes Gretchen would be left alone all day long

in the hut, because Granny would have some work to do in the village

after selling her bundle of sticks and twigs. It was during these long

days that little Gretchen had taught herself to sing the song which the

wind sang to the pine branches. In the summer time she learned the

chirp and twitter of the birds, until her voice might almost be

mistaken for a bird's voice; she learned to dance as the swaying

shadows did, and even to talk. to the stars which shone through the

little square window when Granny came home too late or too tired to

talk.

Sometimes, when the weather was fine, or her Granny had an extra bundle

of newly knitted stockings to take to the village, she would let little

Gretchen go along with her. It chanced that one of these trips to the

town came just the week before Christmas, and Gretchen's eyes were

delighted by the sight of the lovely Christmas-trees which stood in the

window of the village store. It seemed to her that she would never tire

of looking at the knit dolls, the woolly lambs, the little wooden shops

with their queer, painted men and women in them, and all the other fine

things. She had never owned a plaything in her whole life; therefore,

toys which you and I would not think much of, seemed to her to be very

beautiful.

That night, after their supper of baked potatoes was over, and little

Gretchen had cleared away the dishes and swept up the hearth, because

Granny dear was so tired, she brought her own small wooden stool and

placed it very near Granny's feet and sat down upon it, folding her

hands on her lap. Granny knew that this meant she wanted to talk about

something, so she smilingly laid away the large Bible which she had

been reading, and took up her knitting, which was as much as to say:

"Well, Gretchen, dear, Granny is ready to listen."

"Granny," said Gretchen slowly, "it's almost Christmas time, isn't it?"

"Yes, dearie," said Granny, "only five more days now," and then she

sighed, but little Gretchen was so happy that she did not notice

Granny's sigh.

"What do you think, Granny, I'll get this Christmas?" said she, looking

up eagerly into Granny's face.

"Ah, child, child," said Granny, shaking her head, "you'll have no

Christmas this year. We are too poor for that."

"Oh, but, Granny," interrupted little Gretchen, "think of all the

beautiful toys we saw in the village to-day. Surely Santa Claus has

sent enough for every little child."

"Ah, dearie," said Granny, "those toys are for people who can pay money

for them, and we have no money to spend for Christmas toys."

"Well, Granny," said Gretchen, "perhaps some of the little children who

live in the great house on the hill at the other end of the village

will be willing to share some of their toys with me. They will be so

glad to give some to a little girl who has none."

"Dear child, dear child," said Granny, leaning forward and stroking the

soft, shiny hair of the little girl, "your heart is full of love. You

would be glad to bring a Christmas to every child; but their heads are

so full of what they are going to get that they forget all about

anybody else but themselves." Then she sighed and shook her head.

"Well, Granny," said Gretchen, her bright, happy tone of voice growing

a little less joyous, "perhaps the dear Santa Claus will show some of

the village children how to make presents that do not cost money, and

some of them may surprise me Christmas morning with a present. And,

Granny, dear," added she, springing up from her low stool, "can't I

gather some of the pine branches and take them to the old sick man who

lives in the house by the mill, so that he can have the sweet smell of

our pine forest in his room all Christmas day?"

"Yes, dearie," said Granny, "you may do what you can to make the

Christmas bright and happy, but you must not expect any present

yourself."

"Oh, but, Granny," said little Gretchen, her face brightening, "you

forget all about the shining Christmas angels, who came down to earth

and sang their wonderful song the night the beautiful Christ-Child was

born! They are so loving and good that they will not forget any little

child. I shall ask my dear stars to-night to tell them of us. You

know," she added, with a look of relief, "the stars are so very high

that they must know the angels quite well, as they come and go with

their messages from the loving God."

Granny sighed, as she half whispered, "Poor child, poor child!" but

Gretchen threw her arm around Granny's neck and gave her a hearty kiss,

saying as she did so: "Oh, Granny, Granny, you don't talk to the stars

often enough, else you wouldn't be sad at Christmas time." Then she

danced all around the room, whirling her little skirts about her to

show Granny how the wind had made the snow dance that day. She looked

so droll and funny that Granny forgot her cares and worries and laughed

with little Gretchen over her new snow-dance. The days passed on, and

the morning before Christmas Eve came. Gretchen having tidied up the

little room--for Granny had taught her to be a careful little

housewife--was off to the forest, singing a birdlike song, almost as

happy and free as the birds themselves. She was very busy that day,

preparing a surprise for Granny. First, however, she gathered the most

beautiful of the fir branches within her reach to take the next morning

to the old sick man who lived by the mill. The day was all too short

for the happy little girl. When Granny came trudging wearily home that

night, she found the frame of the doorway covered with green pine

branches.

"It's to welcome you, Granny! It's to welcome you!" cried Gretchen;

"our old dear home wanted to give you a Christmas welcome. Don't you

see, the branches of evergreen make it look as if it were smiling all

over, and it is trying to say, 'A happy Christmas' to you, Granny!"

Granny laughed and kissed the little girl, as they opened the door and

went in together. Here was a new surprise for Granny. The four posts of

the wooden bed, which stood in one corner of the room, had been trimmed

by the busy little fingers, with smaller and more flexible branches of

the pine-trees. A small bouquet of red mountain-ash berries stood at

each side of the fireplace, and these, together with the trimmed posts

of the bed, gave the plain old room quite a festival look. Gretchen

laughed and clapped her hands and danced about until the house seemed

full of music to poor, tired Granny, whose heart had been sad as she

turned toward their home that night, thinking of the disappointment

which must come to loving little Gretchen the next morning.

After supper was over little Gretchen drew her stool up to Granny's

side, and laying her soft, little hands on Granny's knee, asked to be

told once again the story of the coming of the Christ-Child; how the

night that he was born the beautiful angels had sung their wonderful

song, and how the whole sky had become bright with a strange and

glorious light, never seen by the people of earth before. Gretchen had

heard the story many, many times before, but she never grew tired of

it, and now that Christmas Eve had come again, the happy little child

wanted to hear it once more.

When Granny had finished telling it the two sat quiet and silent for a

little while thinking it over; then Granny rose and said that it was

time for them to go to bed. She slowly took off her heavy wooden shoes,

such as are worn in that country, and placed them beside the hearth.

Gretchen looked thoughtfully at them for a minute or two, and then she

said, "Granny, don't you think that somebody in all this wide world

will think of us to-night?"

"Nay, Gretchen," said Granny, "I don't think any one will."

"Well, then, Granny," said Gretchen, "the Christmas angels will, I

know; so I am going to take one of your wooden shoes, and put it on the

windowsill outside, so that they may see it as they pass by. I am sure

the stars will tell the Christmas angels where the shoe is."

"Ah, you foolish, foolish child," said Granny, "you are only getting

ready for a disappointment To-morrow morning there will be nothing

whatever in the shoe. I can tell you that now."

But little Gretchen would not listen. She only shook her head and cried

out: "Ah, Granny, you don't talk enough to the stars." With this she

seized the shoe, and, opening the door, hurried out to place it on the

windowsill. It was very dark without, and something soft and cold

seemed to gently kiss her hair and face. Gretchen knew by this that it

was snowing, and she looked up to the sky, anxious to see if the stars

were in sight, but a strong wind was tumbling the dark, heavy

snow-clouds about and had shut away all else.

"Never mind," said Gretchen softly to herself, "the stars are up there,

even if I can't see them, and the Christmas angels do not mind

snowstorms."

Just then a rough wind went sweeping by the little girl, whispering

something to her which she could not understand, and then it made a

sudden rush up to the snow-clouds and parted them, so that the deep,

mysterious sky appeared beyond, and shining down out of the midst of it

was Gretchen's favourite star.

"Ah, little star, little star!" said the child, laughing aloud, "I knew

you were there, though I couldn't see you. Will you whisper to the

Christmas angels as they come by that little Gretchen wants so very

much to have a Christmas gift to-morrow morning, if they have one to

spare, and that she has put one of Granny's shoes upon the windowsill

ready for it?"

A moment more and the little girl, standing on tiptoe, had reached the

windowsill and placed the shoe upon it, and was back again in the house

beside Granny and the warm fire.

The two went quietly to bed, and that night as little Gretchen knelt to

pray to the Heavenly Father, she thanked him for having sent the

Christ-Child into the world to teach all mankind how to be loving and

unselfish, and in a few moments she was quietly sleeping, dreaming of

the Christmas angels.

The next morning, very early, even before the sun was up, little

Gretchen was awakened by the sound of sweet music coming from the

village. She listened for a moment and then she knew that the

choir-boys were singing the Christmas carols in the open air of the

village street. She sprang up out of bed and began to dress herself as

quickly as possible, singing as she dressed. While Granny was slowly

putting on her clothes, little Gretchen, having finished dressing

herself, unfastened the door and hurried out to see what the Christmas

angels had left in the old wooden shoe.

The white snow covered everything--trees, stumps, roads, and

pastures--until the whole world looked like fairyland. Gretchen climbed

up on a large stone which was beneath the window and carefully lifted

down the wooden shoe. The snow tumbled off of it in a shower over the

little girl's hands, but she did not heed that; she ran hurriedly back

into the house, putting her hand into the toe of the shoe as she ran.

"Oh, Granny! Oh, Granny!" she exclaimed, "you didn't believe the

Christmas angels would think about us, but see, they have, they have!

Here is a dear little bird nestled down in the toe of your shoe! Oh,

isn't he beautiful?"

Granny came forward and looked at what the child was holding lovingly

in her hand. There she saw a tiny chick-a-dee, whose wing was evidently

broken by the rough and boisterous winds of the night before, and who

had taken shelter in the safe, dry toe of the old wooden shoe. She

gently took the little bird out of Gretchen's hands, and skilfully

bound his broken wing to his side, so that he need not hurt himself by

trying to fly with it. Then she showed Gretchen how to make a nice warm

nest for the little stranger, close beside the fire, and when their

breakfast was ready she let Gretchen feed the little bird with a few

moist crumbs.

Later in the day Gretchen carried the fresh, green boughs to the old

sick man by the mill, and on her way home stopped to see and enjoy the

Christmas toys of some other children whom she knew, never once wishing

that they were hers. When she reached home she found that the little

bird had gone to sleep. Soon, however, he opened his eyes and stretched

his head up, saying just as plain as a bird could say, "Now, my new

friends, I want you to give me something more to eat." Gretchen gladly

fed him again, and then, holding him in her lap, she softly and gently

stroked his gray feathers until the little creature seemed to lose all

fear of her. That evening Granny taught her a Christmas hymn and told

her another beautiful Christmas story. Then Gretchen made up a funny

little story to tell to the birdie. He winked his eyes and turned his

head from side to side in such a droll fashion that Gretchen laughed

until the tears came.

As Granny and she got ready for bed that night, Gretchen put her arms

softly around Granny's neck, and whispered: "What a beautiful Christmas

we have had to-day, Granny! Is there anything in the world more lovely

than Christmas?"

"Nay, child, nay," said Granny, "not to such loving hearts as yours."