Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-12-22
Continued From First Page.)

manger, monsignor, and" the
shocked young nun could say no more.
What did you do. sonny?" the father
asked again.
"I-I-rode on the donkey" sobbed
the boy.
Heaven was in the smile of the old
priest as he drew the child to him.
SISTER" he said. you shouldn't have
Scolded him. I am sure nothing could
have pleased the Christ Child more
than to have little boy that close to
Him"
Mrs. Nicholas F. Brady, chairman
OF the board of the American Girl
Scouts, at Christmas time does some
thing that is known to very few. With
the help of group of women whom
she has drawn about her she gets the
name Of every man and woman in the
city hospital and sends to each one an
individual present, addressed person.
ally. No one is forgotten. Even the
poor lost souls who have no kin and no
other friends, know that at least one
person will remember them at Christ
Nasty name.
Expressive of the same spirit is
the Christmas celebration of another
woman into whose life we looked for
the answer to our question. She is
not pious woman; the churches know
her not, and there are those who would
call her "unbeliever," sinner" Yet
she believes in Christmas. Extravagant
by nature, she splurges at that time
We found her preparing dozens of gifts
for the poor in body and soul; not
practical gifts, but beautiful, useless
things bit of brocade, an old cary
ing, some lovely object to take beauty
into a poor room.
They did not bring mittens and
mufflers to the King" this sinner ex-
planned. They brought incense and
myrrh and precious things"
Nathalia Crane is best known as the
child poet.
If the recording angel keeps track of
all us mortals, Nathalia IS probably
down in Gods book as "the child with
the Christmas spirit"
Nathalia was alone in the Cranes
modest nat on Christmas eve when a
poor old woman came in.
THE charity organization gave me
this chicken'-the old lady held out
the proof Of her claim-"but I have no
pan to roast it in. Could you help me?"
why, yes indeed" said Nathalia.
'You may have ours" And she turned
back to her work, stepping again into
a world Of fantasy where there were
no problems of roasting pans.
She forgot the whole affair until the
next morning when Mrs. Crane was
ready to cook her Christmas turkey
and could not find the roasting pan.
oh, I gave it to the poor old ladyI"
explained Nathalia. THE charity or
ganization had given her a roasting
chicken and she didn't have a pam"
And now we have no pam" COM
planned Mrs. Crane. You shouldn't
have done that, Nathalia"
But, mother, what would the poor
old woman have done?" - -
She could have cut up the chicken
and cooked 1t in q pot" III
That Is what We can do with the
turkey, mother. We can cook it in =
pot, and I am sure it will be better
than charity chicken. And-we have
so much more than many people. And
you remember the story Of the bag,
mother"
The bag was an embroidered velvet
trtnket Of the fashion of the COS. It
had been given to Nathalia as q sort
Of an altar offering from the children
OF rich man. He had not always been
rich. He had known the real bite of
poverty. There had been one terrible
year when he had been out of work
until the week before the Christmas
holidays. He drew his pay on Christ
mas eve. 1t wasn't enough to pay for
all the things that were needed in his
humble little home. He thought about
lot Of things that were needed, and
then he went up to an expensive shop
and bought the costly, lovely little
bauble.
But my DEAR" his wife said on
Christmas morning, I'VE need so many
things!"
"shhh" he whispered, "it's Christ
maS!"
So we learned more about Christmas
from what our cynic would have called
a "doofunny" and from the boiled
turkey dinner Of Brooklyn poet.
On the twenty-sixth floor of a New
York skyscraper there is a board
room" where some of the most impor-