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Thursday, December 23rd, 1937 QOutside on the slopes of the Bethleâ€" hem ridge the visitor to Palestine toâ€" day will see an enclosure called the Shepherds‘ Field. Therein on this foâ€" cal night of human history some shepâ€" herds wrapped in their sheepskin cloaks are keeping watch over their flocks. Why are they doing this? We do not take too much for granted in saying that they are engaged in what they regard as an act of piety. The great national Feast of the Passover is not far off, and these men are rearing the sacrificial lambs for the occasion. They are talking together of the hope of Israel and praying for the great deâ€" liverer to appear to whase advent the paschal lamb is symbolic in a deeper sense than as yet they know. .They are reminrding one another of the proâ€" phecy that the longâ€"expected prince and saviour will be born in this same town of Bethlehem, and as they talk their fervour and devotion grow till on a sudden they behold a thrilling and glorious sightâ€"not the first time nor the last in which a corner of the veil between heaven and earth has been lifted for men of vision and faith. There before them stands a celestial being, the starry firmament radiant with a splendor not of this world) and at the spectacle their simple hearts are filled with fear. Not for long, however. The fear is soon changed into awe and wonder at the reassuring words of the angel and the announcement conveyed therein. "Fear not; for, beholid, I bring you good tidings of great joy, whick shall be to all people. For unto you is*®born this day, in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall fing the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manget." In these simple terms, so grand in their very simplicity, so timeâ€"honoured Can anyone imagine that from the event taking place in these lowly conâ€" ditions shall spring a stream of gracious influence whose everâ€"growing volume shall refresh the whole heart and beâ€" come the most potent factor in the shaping of the higher destinies of manâ€" kind? Yet so it is, and some glimpse of the august significance of the birth of this child is afforded to a little group of people whose duty keeps them awake this night. During the silent nigh? a son is born in these austere surroundings. The young mother unattended has no soft couch on which to place him or herself and no little garments ready wherein to clothe him. A few handfuls of straw gathered by the husbands hands and placed in the nearest feedingâ€"trough or manger form the infants bed, and for clothing he is wrapped in some of the coverings that have protected the mother herself and her few belongings from dust and chill during the journey from Nazareth. Till it almost seemed that h dreamed Of looking on God Himself The lady bent over and whisy "Are you happier now, my He started and his soul flashed In a gratitude swift and gl ‘"Happyâ€"Oh, ves!â€"I am h Then (wonder with reverent His eyes aglow, and his voice st "Please tell me: Are you God This is not a building erected by human hands, though human hands have fashioned the doors that close it in and have built the feeding troughs tat line the walls inside: it is a dry rocky cave. In this poor refuge, which possibly they share with some animals in addition to their own beast of burdâ€" en, the couple repose themselves. And there he was washed an And his small brown feet And he pondered there on | prayer, And the marvelous answe Above them his keen gaze How strangely from shop gress hither, the major portion of it probably from distant Damascus or Tyre and Sidon and adjacent lands; but the Nazarene artisan shrinks from exposing his wife to this hardship toâ€" night and to the proximity of fellow travellers; he must find a roof to cover her and a measure of seclusion. Anxiâ€" ously he inquiries of the innkeeper where they can go, and it is reasonable to infer that some hint of his purppse in asking stirs the compassion of the innkeeper or some member of the household who conducts them through jostling throng to a place where cattle are stabled near by and gives them rude bedding there. its walls Some make themselves as comfortable as they can in the open air as was not uncommon in those days and had already been practiced by them at the several halfing places where the caravan had rested in its leisurely proâ€" the. skyline in the waning evening light? With quickened steps the patient ass brings his burden through the crowded street of Bethlehem to the doorway of the only inn. It is a rough caravanâ€" serai at the best, but toâ€"night not a few wayfarers find themselves obliged to seek shelter elsewhere than within small Judaean town with which they have ancestral associations. The caraâ€" van they joined has been three days on the road, and this husband and wife, for such is their relationship, are now weary of the journey. Theâ€"â€"<visband is specially anxious because of his wife‘s ccndition; she is in need of the care of persons of her own sex, but he and she are strangers here and of little importâ€" ance in the eyes of those around them: Bethichem is full of visitors on the same errand as themselves and there is likely to be insufficient accommodation for a company so unusually large. What hope of shelter will there be for lateâ€" comers of small means in this town whose fiatâ€"roofed houses are visible on Her A lo] In COha â€" of the small country of Palestine, now a part of the mighty Roman Empire. Their home is in the highland village of Nazareth, but they have been sumâ€" moned to report themselves at this (By R. J. Campbell) A long line of pilgrims, their figures cutlined against the glow of the sunset is climbing the stony hillside of Bethâ€" lehem. â€" They are chiefly footcamels and asses bearing rich and poor to an appointed rendezvous. Moving slowly near the end of the line is an ass bearâ€" ing a young woman and led by a man in the garb of the labouring or artificer class. They have come from the north Short Section From How the Story Began Joseph and Mary Journey to Bethlehem THE PORCUPINE ADVANCE, TTIMMINS, ONTARIO tLAIS they ‘araâ€" ‘s on wife, now Praying For Shoes (By Paul Hamilton Hayne) On a dark December morning, The lady walked slowly down The tronged, tumultuous thoroughTare Of an ancient seaport town. When we were gone astray: O tidings of comfort and joy! Let nothing you dismay; Remember, Christ our Saviour Was born on Christmas day, To save us all from Satan‘s power (By T. G. Crippen) "Christmas!" Is there any other word in our whole English vocabulary that calls forth such a flood of joyous emotion as that which designates the Festival of Humanityâ€"the day which we are accustomed to regard as "pecuâ€" liarly the Home of Household Festival of England? Longed for as the season when our shining hearths, our domestic comforts, and our social felicity are the brightest urder heaven; the chosen season of peace and goodwill, of family reunions, of happy visits, of friendly greetings, of interch@nge of gifts, of kindness to the poor, of mutual esteem and universal joy"; the blending of sport, mirth, and laughter with Paith, Hope, and Charity, this is a real Engâ€" lish Christmas. Within, the house is gay with holly and ivy, laurel and fir: the mistletoe hangs in the place of honâ€" our, shimmering with pearls that seem to have dropped from Preyja‘s necklace Brising; the Yule log blazes on the hearth; the Christmas tree towers aloft in fiery splendour; and the Christmas candles burn in homely remembrance of the Star of Bethlehem. Without, the stars look as brightly down on an expanse of snow, deep and crisp and even, as once they looked upon those holy fields where shepherds watched their flocks by night. Borne upon the frosty air comes the merry chiming of Christmas bells, or mayhap the solemn tolling of the knell of the Prince of Darkness. And, mingling with the brazâ€" en music, we hear the sound of youthful voices caroling "Joy to the World", or "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing," or, better still, that simplest and dearest of all our old English carols (caseâ€"hardâ€" end must be the heart that does not respond to it) : "God rest you merry, gentlemen, Christmas the Home Festival of England The Yule Log, the Mistletoe, the Candles, the Carols! "Happyâ€"Oh, ves!â€"I am happy!" Then (wornrder with reverence rife, His eyes aglow, and his voice sunk low) "Please tell me: Are you God‘s wife? The lady bent over and whispered: "Are you happier now, my lad;" He started and his soul flashed forth In a gratitude swift and glad. And there he was washed and tended, And his small brown feet were shod ; And he pondered there on his childish prayer, And the marvelous answer of God. She led him, in museful silence, At once through the open door, And his hope grew bright, like a fairy light, That flickered and danced before! "I was praying for shoes," he answered: (Just look at the splendid show!) I was praying to Goa for a single pair The sharp stones hurt me so!" "What troubles you, child?" she asked him, In a voice like Mayâ€"wind sweet, He turned, and while pointing dolefully To his naked and bleeding feet. His pale lips moved and murmured: But of what, she could not hear, And oft on his folded hands would fall \ The round and bitter tear. At the rows and various clusters Of slippers and shoes outspread; Some, shimmering keen, hut of sombre sheen ; Some, purple and green and red. She met, by a bright shop window, An urchin timid and thin, Who, with limbs that shook, and vyearning look, Was mistily zlancing in. Her eyes were fountains of, pity, And the sensitive mouth expressed A longing to set the kind thoughts free In music that filled her breast. Of a winning and gracious beauty, The peace of her pure young face Was soft as the gleam of an angel‘s dream In the calms of a heavenly place. A quaint and heartâ€"stirring poem is "Praying For Shoes" by Paul Hamilton Hayne. The thought is beautiful, and the story is one that is taking place every day, and at every time of the year. Perhaps there are ladies like this in our town, too. If only they were numerous! "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men." "And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God. and saving, in their seventeenthâ€"century English form, were the watching shepherds told in brief the story that has created Christmas, nor did the supernatural ascompariment of the telling end with their utterance. Praying for Shoes wandered and shelf. he fondlv Christmas Section