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^J A CIttirtettuas IRru^ ri^ 1 1 IS is tho l<oinin,( season. Aho I Ik- liim^ wluri uliotonr.iphs abound â€" and my mind is much taktn up will both. S.illii's to llic sicnes of othor days, and snapshots nf faces, soint- crstwIiiU- forgotten â€" these- arc the liistinpuishinp features of the Christmas m(X)d. 1 am sittinir by a hearth (ire; and all hcjrth fires have, somewhere in thfir irlowinc Iw.som, the emlK-rs of the days of yore. Quite unclassifi<-d, quite defiant of tlie order of time or place, these Christmas reveries meander, these Yule- tide vienettcs (lash upon memory's srre<-n and disappear. Krafmcntary, unassorted, the> yet mark the trail of the friendly years. The first has its scene in Ottawa; year, the first of my ministerial life. Am in niv room in the Victoria Chaml)crs, seated in ap armchair, and it is (Christmas Kve. Knock at diM>r; which, opened, I'llniils ? midtjet of ,-> bell-boy with two little parcels in his h?nd, Si-id pi'rcels contpining two p,ithetically cheap presents: "For Mr. Haley and Mary (elevator man and his charing daughter) â€" just a little Christmas fift 'cause I can't afford verv much, you sec, bcin" as how I only ?ct four dollars a week and no keepâ€" an', besides, mt chum Iwrrowed thirty cents off me to au to the lacrosse match last fall an' he ain't paid me back," the childish face showimr equal oerts of lienevolcnce ^nd financial care. Beautiful, this â€" and as common as Ijeau- tifulâ€" this mutual generosity of the poor. Four years have passed; and the scene is marvclously changed. No snow now, nor chiming sleigh-tjells, nor resonant sidewalk crisp l>cneath the hurrying feet. But the December sun is jjouring down upon a picnic jxirty in the pine woods of North Carolina, those woods re-echoing to the shout and laughter of merry voices, most of which are silent now. Soon the stroke of an axe is heard, wielded by a burly negro â€" and, a few minutes later, a tall holly tree crashes to the mossy ground, its deep grc<rn foli.ice and elcamini' berries idistcninc in the sun. Later still, a couple of (Urkies loaded like beasts of burden, the holly-laden party, a few with (Treat bundles of the mystic mistletoe, are in Indian file makinc their way to the boats sonc re-echoing as we cross to the stately southern home, its fireplace lighted for the l;ist hundred years and more, that crowns the river's farther bank. Six more years have fled, .ifter their relentless way. I am sitting before my own fire, north again, in "the hill-girt town." We are at family worship, and in my lap there nestles a jrolden-curled pirl of four. F'or nearly a week she and I had followed the course of Santa Claus: "North Pole, Ft. Churchill, Hudson Bay, Tcmaeami, etc." I reported from time to time. But ever comine closer! Our readinp that niL'ht, that trcmbline stocking night, is of the feeding of the fi\'e thou- sand, and the dialogue was as follows: "Wasn't that kind of him, my darlinc, to feed all those poor, hunery people?" "Yes," the blowing eyes averted one brief moment from the fire; "but, where do you suppose Santa Claus is now?" Yet four more years have gone. It is Christmas here again, and I am driving back to town from a farm-house where the head of the home lies in agony, his last Christmas al- most at the door. The s;>me childish form, taller and de- veloped now, is beside me in the cutter as we glide along, sleigh-bells merrier than their wont, stars a little brighter, mantle of snow touched with a holier sheen. Suddenly I feel the trembling of the girlish figure a little hand plucks at the sleeve of my coonskin coat, a curl-clustered head is burrowing into my side â€" and the sobbing of a child mingles with the music of the Ix-Us. I ask why, darkly suspecting that the cause is what 1 fear, that someone has given her to eat of the tree of the knowledec of fact and phan- tasy. It is even so â€" aiul the little form is quite shaken with erief as "This is the first Christ- mas that 1 didn't know" comes from the trembling lii)S. I can only comfort and caress ami murmur: "Life is full of these awakcninns, my darliuK," and we go on thru the nieht that has lost, never to be restored, the wonder and the glory of a year l)efore. And is it not wonderful how, when we ransack the byecine years, we find, not the qreat and momintous thincs unfa<led, but mostly trifling little episodes embalmed in love, and nearly all linked to the vision of some childish face. Gone now, and far away, arc those childish fe;»tures, and the wonder of life has retreated U'fore its struifele. In a home of her own, too, another fire lighted upon a new-laid hearth. Thus the holy cycle eocs its way. Those curls have disappeared, and the locks are darker, yet no less dear. And surely, surely, there is no reason why she shoulil not nestle as ol yore upon that uroat throne of childhood, a father's knee, and surely those locks could rest avain wlitre they re[X)si'(l of old. I am sorely tempted. The birds find that Southern path suid why not I? One year later still; and the peaceful h.ii)piiicss of a Christmas morninp passes arain licfore me. Breakfast over; a little hymn, a little prayer; a little pinatinr (thank (jod) over the rapture which I know the liiirryini.' years are bound to shatter â€" and we stand athrill liefore the d(H)r of the riMuu within which the laden tree awaits us. Entrance deliuhtful as of yore â€" anil iIhm ImtIus the L'ivine and receiving. Some really Ijeauliful eifts, no doubt, all foruuiicn now -but unforsotten, an<l un- lost or mislaid throuah the ye.irs, a little knitteil bai; (to hold some articles of toilet) handed to me by proud little d.iuehter's Ii.ukU. "The very first thin? I ever did, daddy," face aulow with childish pride, mine with fatherly com|Mssion. Surelv a reasaurintf jwrable of all our p<M)r irifts and service, yet precious in larecr, other eyes than ours! â€" R. E. Knowles. Early Christmua Monilnitâ€" HAS .SANTA COME YET? Cradle of Ci|ristiait lOfirld Of all the ctustcrine clouds of ravishine reminis<-ences associated with a world- tour of 35,000 miles, memory holds no other in'm quite so deliirhtfully exquisite as that of a visit to Bethlehem. No other sjhiI on earth is richer in reliirious trejisure or more radiant with romantic anil well luilhenlicated tradition. Viewed from .my •tandjioint- topojfraphical, historical, sot iai or religious â€" Bethlehem is simply en- thralling. Every change in the kaleidosc<ii>e is wondrously fascinating, ami dis- clow:s a {Hr(»-<t picture of idyllic irr.ice and ih.irm. Once more, as "The Season of the Birth of Christ draws near," the imagination <if the world will l)e centered th«Te, ratrhing ovcrtoms of its pastoral symphon\ ; while the instinct of Christian mil- lions will turn to it in tcnderest affection ami truest veneration. The heart of mo- dern civilizTil man awakes in mystic wonder, and finds its affinity with the primitive Judcan shepherd, saying, "I.«-t us now go even unto Bethlehem." The city walls ha\T vanished; but the site of Bethlehem, determined by the long narrow mountain ridge, is precisi^ly where it was ;t,000 yv.irs ago. Entering the town at an elevation of 2,550 ivvt aliove the s<a, the visitor has a magnificent view •( the surrounding country, opening out like a panorama. To the east sloi^es the deep valley where Ruth "went down" in her sorrow. 0\-er the softly rising hills to the south are the plains in whose fields she gleaned "amidst the alien corn :" where also David walkedâ€" "In glory and in joy. Following his sheep along the mountain siile." On these plains, too, were the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by iiiKlit when the .\ngel of the Lord, accompanied by the Heavenly Host, announced the birth of "Christ the Lord." Away to the horizon stand the purple hills of Moali, at whose feet in solemn stillness lie the deep blue waters of the Deail Sea. .Almost immediately above the town towers .Mount Jebel Fureidis, on the summit of which is the tomb of llerod the dreat, of execrated memory, who, in Bethlehem at least, needs no such monu- ment in memo' iam of the .Massacre of tlie Innocents. For n iles around may Lie seen rich olive .iiul fig groves intermixed with apricot orchard^ and \ineyards each with its watch tower as in ancient times. The hillsides arc cultivated in terraces of "hanging ^;ar(lens," and the stony plains are ploughed for cereal crops. The town is solidly and closely built. The streets are generally narrow, with houses of two or three storeys, constructed of yellowish-white limestone, and topped with flat roofs. The central thoroughfare is occupied by workshops, whose floors are strewn with men and material. The chief inrlustry is the manufacture of "articles de touriste." Souvenirs in olive wood, medallions from mother-of-pearl, engravings on shell and stone of incidents from the life of our Lord, with other similar curios, are everywhere conspicuous in almost embarrassing profusion. In this art alone one-third of Bethlehem workers find employment. The remainder arc shepherds, quarrymen, husbandmen, tradesmen and merchants. The population, which is estimated variously from 5,0(X) to 8,000, is almost entirely Christian; and, apart from the occasional outbursts of sectarian animosity, the Latin, Greek, and Armenian Churches are on enviable terms of friendship â€" for Eastern communities. Boasting a strain of Crusaders' blood, the Bethlehemites are altogether the finest human type to l)e met with in Southern Palestine, and their sartorial appear- ance is primly picturesque. The men dress in a bright-colored gown over a white undershirt, the head being covered with a turban or fez. The women's chief gar- ment is a long narrow tunic of blue cotton, tied at the waist, and relieved with a red embroidered stole. The matrons are distinguished from the maidens by a diflfer- entiating arrangement of headdress; the married ladies wearing a sort of cap adorn- ed with gold and silver sequins â€" their only dower â€" while the spinsters display a ribbon in their hair. .Ml the women have veils, but these are thrown back so as to fall in long, graceful lines, about the figure, to which they lend a charming dignity. The exposed face of the Bethlehcmitc woman is distinctly beautiful â€" not a brun- ette, but with a bright, clear complexion, large eyes, and delicately shaped mouth â€" and she carries herself so admirably as to appear taller than she really is. Of course, the supreme object of interest in Bethlehem is the reputed place of the Nativity. Superstition and the emulation of jarring sects have led to the multi- plication of sacred sites in the Holy Land. Many of these are doubtful, to say the least, and some are without question apocryphal. Fortun- ately, however, the place in- dicated with reverence as the Cave of the Nativity is not among these. Ancient, con- tinuous, and well-authenticat- ed tradition stamps this as one of the most genuine shrines in Palestine. The credibility of this tradition is supported by no less an authority than Conder, who observes in his "Tent Work in Palestine" that "the rude grotto with its rocky manger may, it seems to me, be accepted even by the most sceptical of modern explorers." Within a generation of the death of the last of the Apostles, Justin Martyr, himself a native of Nablus, speaks of the Saviour's birth as having taken place "in a certain cave close to the village." The fact of its early sacredness is oemonstrated by the method taken by Hadrian (A.D. 117-138) to desecrate it by causing a grove in honor of Adonis to Ix- planted above the cave, so that p;igan wanton rites might be performed over the very spot where the Holy Child Jesus was born. This grove was subsequently cut down by Constantine in order that the Em|)ress Helena might rear (A.D. ;!(X)-;5;{7) the basilica which is still standing there, the most ancient Christian Church in the world. The. t'hurch of the Nativity |)resents the outward appear- ance of a fortress. The huge central doorway has been almost entirely built up, leaving the only entrance by a "needle's eye," which symbolically teaches each worshipjK-r, at least, the virtue of humility. The interior is spacious but bare. The aisles have flat roofs above the pillars of red and white marble with Corinthian capitals, bi t the nave has a cleres- tory, with walls thirty feet above the capitals, and a pointed roof. A wall, built across the east end of the basilica, cuts off the chancel. Evidently at one time the entire church was richly adorned with gold and mosaics, of which some remnants still exist, but the ravages of time and the hand of the spoiler have left their marks. Underneath the choir, by a staircase of thirteen marble steps, the crypt containing the Chapel of the Nativity is reached. The Chapel â€" once a rude cave â€" is now paved and walled with marble, roofed with golil and silk, and lighted with fifty-three lamps. Immediately to the left is the shrine, unspi-akably sacred to Christendom. F'rom an arch about four feet high hang fifteen silver lamps, and in the centre o' the floor is a silver star with the inscription "Hie de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus Natus Est." The site itself is infinitely touching, but as I gazed upon it an unspeakable ten- (lerness invested it by the presence of eight women roln-d in white praying silently and, in turn, kissing the star. I followed, anc' foiuu' the slab glistening with tears. Indescrib,ibly sad is it that this same silver sl.ir has a tale to tell not altogether of "p<'acc and good-will to men!" That it should have tx-en used as a wedge for sun- dering the jieace of the world by war is one of those episodes the world wouM will- ingly forget lo-day. To-day we stand with the wondering shepherds and worship- ping magi by the sjiot *here was witnessed the greatest event of all time â€" the Divine assumption of hiim.inity. The wmld will never [H'rmit the tender idyll of Bethle- hem to die. May it not forget the truth enshrined in the quaint old lines â€" "Though Christ a thousand times in Bethlehem \<v liorn. If He's not born in thee, thy soul is still forlorn. Oh, would thy heart be but a manger for His birth, God would once more become a Child upon the earth." ^QTuitil Nfuer Btr The Christmas Festival of goodwill, goodfelluwship, and peace has lust none of its popularitv- in its |viss<'ige through the ages. Nineteen hundred and twenty-five finds us welcoming it as heartily as did our ancestors a thousand years ago, U-fore railways, telephones, radios or auto- mobiles were even dreamed al>out. It awakens dormant feelings and aspirations which the clamor of wordly life stifles and deadens. It opens deep springs of brotherhood and love, from whence flow desires to bless with gifts and good wishes. "for economical TRANSPORTATION" IMt toisf) out- manp customeis a fUctr? Christmas anb a ?^ippp anU |)rosperous iJeU) pear. Wi( ttjanfe tt)fm for tljeir past patron age anb trust lue can be of furtljer serUice to tijem. pi X D. McTAVISH & SON Sales and Service •^( &, '..••â- iWMWViiJV .^' F. FINDER ^' BAKER AND CATERER «i 0' *'i To all those whom we cannot greet this joyous season we take this means of wishing them A Happy and Prosperous New Year. «., •ii A Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all. KARSTEDT BROS. GENERA!. MERCHANTS PRICEVII.LE Kind Regard"^ and Best Wishes We appreciate the kind favor of past years and extend to you, our friends and customers, our wishes for a healthlul and happy vear in 1926. C. N. RICHARDSON, Druggist FLESHERTON