"Certainly! certainly!" answered the umbrella-man, "I see you need a home badly, and I know the very one for you and will tell you where it is-it 's very easy to find the way. Just go right down this street till you come to the post-office; then turn the corner and keep on till you see the court-house; then turn another corner and keep straight on till you reach the jail; then turn that corner and go right ahead till you get on a country road. Follow that road till you come to a school-house; then at the cross-roads, just beyond, you must turn to the left, and by and by you will come to a little red house under a hill where lives the kindest little old woman in the world. If once you get under her roof, you will be happy for the rest of your lives."

"Oh, thank you! thank you!" cried they both; "what should we ever have done without your wise advice! Now, we 'll hurry away and try to find the little red house before night."

So off again went the cat and the parrot, down this street, and up that one, and around ever so many corners; past the post-office, the court-house, the jail, and the school-house, till at last they came out on the country road. It was nearly dark, and it was snowing fast,

side, stood a fine new brass cage with a whole banana stuck between the wires. In front of the fire, fast asleep and nodding in her easy-chair, was the best little old woman in the world, and she had pink ribbons in her cap exactly as they had wished for! "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!"

and they were dreadfully tired, but they had to go a long way farther before they came to the little red house under a hill.

A light was shining in the window, and they went up and knocked softly at a door which stood ajar. There was no answer, so they stole in. A bright fire was burning, and a kettle sang cheerfully on the hob. On one side of the fireplace lay a soft green cushion with a plate of salmon beside it; on the other

LONG AGO

BY CATHERINE PARMENTER (AGE 16)
(Honor Member)

ONE Christmas eve, long, long ago,
When all the earth was still and sweet,
I saw the little Christ-child pass
With soft and saintly feet.

A brooding hush hung over all;
Bright stars illumed the purple sky.

The Child paused at each lighted house,
Nor passed the poorest by.

He bent above each baby's crib,

And kissed the little rosebud cheek. The tiny candles guided him

From drifts of snow so bleak.

One Christmas eve, long, long ago,
Below me in the snowy street,
I saw the little Christ-child pass
With soft and saintly feet.

A CHRISTMAS STORY

BY HELEN NELSON (AGE 16)

(Gold Badge. Silver Badge won August, 1921) ON a rocky hillside in Palestine, shepherds were drowsily watching their sheep. It was on a warm, velvety night. The stars glowed with a lustrous radiance, when suddenly, out of the East, a light appeared, which shone with such brilliancy that the shepherds covered their faces and bowed to the ground, for they were frightened and blinded. Then an angel of the Lord comforted them, saying, "Fear not, for behold, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord." Immediately out of the whispering night came the voice of a host of angels, singing, "Glory to God in the Highest and on earth peace, good will toward men." So charmed were the shepherds with the sweetness of the song and the magic of the scene that they rose forthwith, took up their staffs, and followed the star to Bethlehem.

There in the manger lay the wee babe, with the mother and father leaning over it in rapt adoration, and the three wise men of the East, robed in cloth of gold, kneeling in humble worship, with their rich gifts before them. The only light in the place was the Glory of the Lord which shone with a veiled and shimmering softness.

As the shepherds hastened to the door of the stable they stopped for a moment in surprise; then they, too, fell down in worship, and all was still, while angels hovered outside guarding the babe who was to be the Savior of Men.

LONG AGO

BY CAMILLA LEONARD EDWARDS (AGE 16)
(Silver Badge)

SOMETIMES I wander to a garden wall
And through a gateway low;
Above curves gracefully an arbor tall
Thatched thick with roses, whose white petals
fall

And softly cover all the path below.

I stand beneath the arbor watching there The rosy sunset sky

Faint smell of lavender is in the air,

A CHRISTMAS STORY

BY MINNIE PFEFERBERG (AGE 16)
(Honor Member)

"HO-HUM," remarked Grandfather Burns, momentarily removing his pipe. "Christmas day always recalls one Christmas of long ago."

It was after the big Christmas dinner, and the Burns children, with their grandfather, were seated before the living-room fire. As was their wont, they burst out with, "Oh, grandpa, tell us!"

"Well," he began, the misty, far-away look coming into his eyes, "it was Christmas day, many, many years ago. We children were seated before a roaring fire, just as you are now, roasting our after-dinner chestnuts. It was a wild day without. The windows rattled loudly as a sharp wind whistled and moaned about the old house. Little feathery flakes were falling silently, blanketing the bare bleakness of the earth below with a thick, white coverlet.

"Suddenly a sharp rap was heard at the door, and a gust of wind swept in with a wintry chill as Mother admitted a tall, snow-covered man.

"His horse had gone lame, he said, and he politely asked if we could find shelter for the animal and himself until the storm had abated.

"The stranger proved to have a very pleasant and affable personality. He had a great faculty for telling stories, especially humorous tales. In fact, he proved so charming a guest that it was with a very genuine regret that we saw him depart.

"We never saw him again, unfortunately. But five years later, half the country was hailing him as the Great Emancipator, the President of the United States! Yes, sir," Grandfather ended solemnly, "it was our great honor to entertain Abraham Lincoln as a Christmas-day guest in our home!"

LONG AGO

BY MARGARET MARIAN MCHUGH (AGE 15)
(Gold Badge. Silver Badge won September, 1920)
WHEN the sun half curtained in fleecy mist
Rose o'er the hills of Jebél,

A stranger rode through the drifting sand
From the land where his people dwell.
And under his silken garments were
Caskets containing the richest myrrh.

Within his eyes gleamed a mystical light,
And his face was young and fair;
But his jaw was set as he turned his gaze
To the desert white and bare.
For days he had traveled 'neath the sun,
Passing the pyramids, one by one.

And lo! o'er the face of the desert came

A figure out of the east;

And as if by magic, a speck appeared

From the south, where the sky-line ceased.
And one was dark and the other fair.-
Both were laden with gold and incense rare.

And they met, these three, 'neath the olive-trees, Just as the day was done,

And they joined their quest and their fortunes there,

Long ago, 'neath the dying sun.
And then they lifted their eyes to pray,
And slowly and softly moved away.

A CHRISTMAS STORY

BY LINDA E. MITCHELL, JR. (AGE 13) THE first snow had fallen and the ground was transformed by its beautiful white coverlet. The mesquites and tree-cactus in the valley were laden with their icy burden. On the side of the mesa, the rocks and piñon trees, the blue and green cedars, all were covered with snow and ice. Long thin icicles hung from the roof. The covey

of quail that had spent the night, during the storm, under the tamarisk came slowly out single file, to hunt for an early breakfast. The coyote which had been asleep in the shelter of the creek bank stretched itself and trotted off, hoping that a rabbit or two would be out and could be caught off guard. The English sparrows awoke and twittered cheerlessly in the stable. And then the long howl of a hungry wolf out for a kill echoed through the valley, and was echoed and reëchoed along the mesa. The coyotes caught the refrain and howled in answer. This was the scene the sun looked down on as it rose above the snowcovered mesa a minute later to shine on a new Christmas day.

A CHRISTMAS STORY

(Told as a true story by a British Colonel)
BY MARGARET E. ROBINSON (AGE 14)
(Silver Badge)

Little Jack Horner sat in a corner

Eating a Christmas pie

He stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum
And said, "What a good boy am I."

IN the time of Henry VIII of England, there lived the Bishop of Bath and Wells. The king and the bishop quarreled many times. At last the bishop determined to end these quarrels and to live in peace. For a long time he thought, and at last came to the decision that he would send his Majesty a Christmas present.

In those days, everything had to be sent by coach. He appointed John Horner to carry the gift, which was in the form of eleven deeds to estates. These deeds were placed in a Christmas pie, in order to conceal them from bandits and highwaymen.

John Horner, in some way, learned what the gift was to be. So he, on the way, literally "put in his thumb, and pulled out a plum," and the plum was the deed to Mels Manor.

BY MADELEINE CURTIS, AGE 14. (SILVER BADGE)

"THE

The king was so delighted to receive the deeds to ten estates that he made John Horner a baronet. And there has always been, since that time, a Sir John Horner at Mels Manor.

LONG AGO

BY MARY ARRINGTON (AGE 13)
(Silver Badge)

IN the soft warm glow of the summer days,
When horizons are hid by a mystic haze,
I lie on the glistening golden sands,

A-resting my head on my sunburned hands,
And watch the gulls go to and fro

As I dream I lived in the Long Ago.

Then over a sea of silver waves

And up from the depths of the coral caves,
A ghostly ship goes sailing by
And is silhouetted against the sky.
Her phantom men stand row on row;
'T is a pirate craft of the Long Ago.

'T is a grim, foreboding crew of yore
That pilots the boat up to the shore;
And each man buries a bag of gold
From a treasure-chest within the hold,
And they leave no trace by which to know
Where the hoard was hidden Long Ago.

Then over a shimmering, silver sheet
Sails back that ship of a bygone fleet;
And I find myself, where before I lay,
Gazing wistfully over the bay;
And again the gulls go to and fro-
'T was but a dream of the Long Ago.

A CHRISTMAS STORY
BY RAUHA LAULAINEN (AGE 15)
(Silver Badge)

THE Country of Finland was in its winter glory that Christmas afternoon. The trees were heavily laden with snow, and the pale winter sunbeams changed the snowflakes into innumerable gems.

Aino placed her skis in the sleigh with the utmost care, for she prized them because they were a Christmas gift from her father, who wished to have her compete for the silver cup in skiing.

The ten-mile ride was very lovely. The way Aino's face beamed with excitement, and the

"A HEADING FOR DECEMBER." BY MARY RAMSAY PALMATEER AGE 13. (HONOR MEMBER)

Aino hurriedly reached for her skis, but the happy expression on her face disappeared and she exclaimed: "The other ski is gone! Olaf, hurry, find it! It has fallen on the road!"

Her brother immediately drove away. In less than ten minutes, Aino was among the contestants, for her brother had found the ski near the grand stand.

The signal was given, a hushed silence fell upon the crowd, and the skiers were off. Aino came down the slope at a terrific speed until she reached the raised platform, and from there she leaped