.1 -_;_. g4, .

2;; sz, ia-éfla s._,_4;.;__<41;._

._-£ _,

-' ‘J.~'A4-»“J,.- A

"so..." , =~Christmas< emu. .Mr.~, ' Atkins t~ f +0++v~~ — ~ ‘ WhIJAi/Ql‘ U18 BI";-

eertainiy not for ‘ ck of trying.

For our soldiers in ‘barracks the react:

, iby attendance at Di- -vine service ateleven

‘fr a o'clock on themorn-

V ing of Christmas: and.. this duty per- formetlmtrlelym ure- pare, wi e zest oi schoolbo , f good tuxuwlns- Y! orthe The g eature in their program‘ m, g course. the Christmas dinner; and semi, who has seen m. Atkins‘ table groaning m.

"l, ,, der its burden of 800d and sessonable fare

“mu feel rather tempted to envy him than ' in waste any. ty on him. Eur, in addition ‘to mutton. p0!’ . and ham. there are plump Jand succulent sense and turkeys. to say no. cihing oi such casual delicacies asqmemngs; “while of, plum-puddings there areenough to

atisfy the most abnormal appetite, and to

pare. v . - .

_ But Mrratkins is at least as proud of his

dining-rooms-ae ohthe well-spread tables o:

which they are the setting. for the -' m.

tlons are the work oi his own hands and

brain. And. indeed. with their‘ many lan- terns and fairy lights, their .wealth of artis- tic g y,‘ their festoonsof colored paper, their devices of Jiags. shields. and ‘tors; and their mottoes. witty and appropriate, they are. in many cases. triumphs of decor-

ative skill. - , .

At the dinner-hour (usually two o'clock) the commanding and other oﬂicers visit‘ each room in tum and drink the men's health in port or sherry, with a hearty exchange oi good wishes; and. this pleasant formality

- over. the "attack" ‘ ‘ . and for the next couple of hours or so feasting and joviality reign supreme. .

After the banquet comesu dance or smok- ing concert, and the iunwaxes more and ‘more furious until the sound of "Lights out"

Ll-lugs the happy day to an end somewhere ' about midnight, or, it may be, the “wee. sma‘ hours" of the next morning. .

fie

CHRISTMAS WITH THE JEWS

Whiie‘the Christiarhis feasting and making merry with dance and song, the Ghetto is also a scene of festivity, no less heartily en- joyed. in celebration oi the dedication oi the Temple at Jerusalem, more than two thou- sand years ago. _ ‘

For eight days the festivalds observed: and in every house, every‘ attic occupied by Jews, as well as in every synagogue Hanuka lights are kindled, beginning with‘ one candle the first day. another being lit each succeedlns day until, on the elghthyday, eight candles are alight. _

If you visit the.,@G‘liUN!"-‘1il"Wll'ltechapel during this festival you might well think you had strayed into iairland; for every window is illuminated, and the sombre, sordid streets

" are transllgured bythe unwanted‘ radiance:

while through half-open doors you get glimpses of candlefrauged in rows on. the

-‘ tables, as you may see them in Continental

churches. Ewen the ugly model ‘dwellings.

- with their hundreds of windows liourinz out . - ﬂoods of soft light, lose their cljudity andﬁfe

"I ties. either at home

suggestive of monster-dolPs-houses.‘ ~

As the Hanuka is a national rather than a religious observance, it is usually SW91! “P to merriment and recreation. The lisht of the candles is. indeed, . the only Bylllbﬂllil ceremony. Even the most devout of Jews. who as a' rule turn their backs on worldly pleasures. take a little license at this season of national rejoiclnm, Their rellsiim imposes no restraints on them. Therefore their mot- to wisely is:—"l.et us be merry if only for once in the year." .

Therais asuccession oi dances andyim“ or at the clubs: ., and parties troop on gsuyhtoeiuo: the dsllshw oi the pantomime; “

This, tnb. is the great harvest-time oi the

v » professional lnarriige-broker (the Shadchan)

, . a ﬁne opportunity for , - tions.

who nhus in these visits to the, seuwmlnw introduclnsji/W‘! Young er under‘ nwmitine 001151- And h reds oi nallgﬂg: have lied their origin un

"Cinderella“ orthe rumour °f"‘1\1=¢<"" ""1 the Wonderful Lenin" .

people to each o

“THE CHRISTMAS TREE -

(Continued from rue 4i. v V time alter veil splendid °"°- =er~..~'r...tt-.z's.~.rr.- ‘his r. A, w, m“

The Malignant g

T"?"s~ T}

continued from page l

“Because of its horirblepresence. "i Whole Wins of this house has been closed up for nearly forty years. . . the last time itappear- ed as Summerson has said. was when the house was so full with a Chﬂﬂtmﬂ-s house-party that a valet W“ Pushed away into that alleged haunted chamber. Apparently,poor soul. he did not know the common chit-chat oi his master's friends suf- ficiently well to realize that a for. tune would not have tempted any guest to occupy the place.

fRight-we have this valet in the room; probably the slept for an hour or so; he awaken-yells out that something is with him. screams and hammers the door.

“The whole house is aroused . . . the unfortunate servant is found in a corner. of the room, talking to hilnself. drawing diagrams with his wet ﬁnger on the wall . . . white- haired, druling in idiotic laughter

. . a shattered madman.

"That's but the last manifestation of the thing. For two hundred Years. so far back oi course, as re- liable testimony can extend, up- wards of ten people have either been driven mad in that room, or killed by fright. I ask you in all earnestness, Colonel Peter-sham, not only to let the subject drop but to —forget it entirely. Believe me, my researches into the phenomena oi’ existence only have gone to prove demonaic survivills about us . . , there are such things us--as ghosts. and I—-"

Colonel Petersham drank the last .

of his whisky with a ﬂourish that was actually an impertinence. The, white grave face of the scientist

ﬂushed before the action. Protein,

sor Tankerley drew back in his chair-and got to his feet. “I think.I’d better bid you both

‘good-night’? he sauvely murmur--

ed. “I-I am a little tired." .

“Bo'm I," grunted the Colonel into his glass. ‘of a lot of damn’ fool tummy-rot and bunkum! . . . Don't want to upset you in any way, Tankerley old man, but somehow such yarns‘ get me by the throat and I almost choke. It's a. failing oi mine, I know. Sorry I can't get over it. and all knocked about this earth for nearly sixty'years now, and I'm dashed if ever I've seen anything worse than myself."

"I sincerely hope," Professor Tankerley smoothly rejoined, “you never do.’ Pardon me-I’ll be oi! now. A Merry Christmas to you, in the morning.”

Nothing could old

shake the

scientist's determination to retire."

In less than ten minutes he was upstairs . . . He felt that he had gone too far and had made a fool

oi himself. Not a pleasant state of‘

mind for the famous Professor Tnnkerley to be in-he tumbled in- to bed, and brooded.

. Probably two hours had passed. Tankerley had not slept. Now he sat up in bed and listened to- vague chucklings, rough voices and cluttering.

"My God," he muttered, his skin suddenly damp, “I believe that fool of a man has actually induced Summerson to have the bricksthat wall oil‘ the empty west wing brok- en downl Surely the madman doesn‘t intend tosleep in that room

after all—after its forty years of

emptiness?"

Really concerned, Tankerley got out oi bed, slipped on a dressing- gown and scuttled as quickly as his slippers would allow him along the polished ﬂoor of the corridor and toward the hitherto blank wall that had for so long out off the sinister wing. A couple of keepers had been brought in. Summerson and the Colonel, both under the inﬂuence oi too much wiskey, stood laughlm and jesting before the aperture. Along in the foul silences of the west wing glowed a great orange light. Clouds of dust flew fromout of the room that was haunted. Ber- vants were busy inside it-they bad lighted a fire in it and were cleaning it out.

Professor Tankerley drew up to the twain. l-le queried-pleaded- argued . . . nothing was of avail. The Colonel had a bunch of candles and a bottle of whisky; in a pocket of his huge dressing grown he car-

that-but I've -

a ' I‘: Uudmuvt .. UM: M

i‘ “ltekrleegenrll ' Christmas Stocking

ANY, many cars ago. therelived in Europe

a very wealt

y man named St. Nicholas. He liked nothingbetter thantoh

I but disliked very much being thanks

el or people. f}; his gifts. One Christmas Eve he wished tolgive a purse of gold.

to an old man and his little dau hter, and in order to escape being seen, he climbed to t eir roof and dro ped his precious gift down the chimney. Instead of and.- ing on the hearth, however, the purse fell right into a stocking which was hung up to dry, and the next morning it was discovered there! When other people

heard of the strange hap ening the their stockingasand soon a over theYa

too hung up ‘nd, it became

the‘ custom on Christmas Eve to han up one’s “ ' stocking for- St. Nicholas to .-

v..-

i‘ g

l ' » the better.

4°

ried a fully loaded Service l . . no had wagered Bummerson iiity pounds . . . he was 80mg NFPQM the night in that room-yes. lithe Devil himself came into it with him.

And so Professor erlev ouiet- ly gave up his task 0w» conviction. He held out his hand to the Colonel . . . For a moment that mun who gobered bythe solemnityof the ges- ture; but then. the whiskymklwld of his brain Once m

As the‘ Professor moved away to bed for the second time Petersham was uproar-lonely imbibe. with- Bummerson ‘at the antics oi a ser-

h h th hols o w ti’ ti?“ at t an hour later tile servants. qu, had gone. Only Simmer-soure- alned with the Coioabi in ' untsd rooms". ‘we! '

~11» lently. as thmhﬁbl

, hliient ior so long. h , ti‘; kioeenjlzahdll

the, door of the room should be left open anxinch or two-mot, the Col-_ onel chuckled. because the room was opprsaeively musty-no» the man sustains pin steal in durlnl theniglititeud scare him. - Uiu, if that wlaethe game. the Colonel de- illdtldrlﬂd‘ soon stop iti '

‘ Over- to the masslvedoor he, went. . as closedsit tightly. and locked it.

The boy he slipped into his pyiausa _

pocket. s.»

was. dammit all-watt 1t w. the " he wouldolose the He aloud them-again the sihilant. as

$1".

IDPOI". . .

‘ CHRISTMAS

uuwalnxtitousan . moons. sighedlalll-iliwilflllelt‘! p‘? -

Bight-gnarl]. the stulliuetl,

barred, bud-absolutely none!" Something seemed to roar up at him--a. sullen grisly, horrible and deathly cold mass oi pntrescent va- the ﬁre was gone . . .

God, the candles had gone .

place of Hell-haunted!

“Yes,”

"failing ears . .

ne."

MAZE PUZZLE EXPLAINED

See page three

snarled a voice into his . "Alo

. Charlotte

(Continued irom Pale s) \

“You forget. Charlotte that this is my house," she said. It waauot till later that John learnt alli that those words meant. 0i the grads- ingly given shelter to her dead bro- ther's pretty, pelted orphan child: oi the lack oi love that was lonely Charlotte's portion new; the 10b8- ing for the dear father and home. gone for ever. He did ‘not guess just then. All the pent or warmth oi’ her affectionate young heart had been lavished on this one thing remaining to her from the wreck of home and fortune; her cherish- ed “Star.” Now it would seem that Aunt Justinls. would have none of Star either. And then shy John had an inspiration.

THE RIGBTFUL OWNER:

“If you really prefer not to keep him, I have a friend who has been on the look out for just such a dog-who would buy it." He paus- ed, hardly expecting Aunt Jus- tinia, or Charlotte, either, for that

' matter. to listen to his suggestion;

but strangely enough, that was just whet Aunt Justiana. did. She had given the dog away to her charwoman-‘s children: but it would

l‘ possibly always be wandering back, ' as it had done today, and if a good

price could be obtained. so much She turned to John with evident relief.

"Yes, perhaps that would be best. indeed, I quite think it would be best. Aunt. Justinia said. “Come. don't cry Charlotte. but rather

“thank this gentleman, who has so

kindly come to our assistance. You say your friend will send a-cheque. Yet ,that will be quite all right, and you may take the dog with

" you now."

Aunt Justlnia, who would have undertaken to manage the world ‘if

she could have got it within her '

graps, felt she had quite success- fully disposed of both Charlotte's objections, and the equally undesir- ed Star.

"But you'll come to the foot of

the stairs. and help to carry him"

for me, won't you?" John about to be banished from Paradise, said ap- peulingly to the dog's young owner. Flhe gave him u. quick, grateful lit.- Lle glance. If Star had to go. and she knew that appeal against Aunt Jusiinisfs fiat wasuseless, she felt she would sooner trust him with this big. kind, looking young man. whose choice of friend was sure to be all right.

"Yes, go, Charlotte," Aunt Jus- tinia said graciously. The child was taking it altogether more reason- ably than she had expected, and

. she could aﬁord to grant her this

one slight farewell indulgence. It was not until they were going down the long stairway together, that John laid his hand gently. and with shy sympathy upon the arm which held silver-coated Btar.

“Jolly little chap, and you're to remember that. whatever happens, he‘ll- always be yours," John said, stammering a little in his haste. "I've brought him, -yes, I'm the 'friend"and now I'd give him back to you as a. Christmas present, only that I reckon your aunt won't want to have it that way just yet. But there's the Joyland's Park, not far from here. a dog needs exercise. and if you happen to be walking there on Saturday afternoons, it would keep the little chap from fretting. to see you now and again."

Charlotte glanced quickly up at him, her grey eyes shining.

"Ohl how kind you are. I never, never thought that anyone could be half so kind. For it won't be like losing darling little Star, to know that you have him, that I can see him every Saturday if-I choose to come. It's because Aunt Justinian given me a home that I darent cross her in this, you see. By and by, I hope I shall be independent; I'm learning typing and short-hand. and then perhaps I can have Star back for my very own again."

“Whyi of course you can," said John heartily. Now that he knew for certain» that that other John was only old John, the gardener. it waswonderful what s. difference it made. Little chum Charlotte could

. knit blue comforters for old _John the room was a laughing tumult; a

every week, and he wouldn't care a hang. He had Charlotte's dearest treasure in keeping-thanks to Star, he was to see Charlotte every Bat_ urday. and what is, by and by he..

A _ Aunt Juetinia approved the ap-

parently resigned spirit iu which her niece took her pet's departure; and, ‘“ her with acldulated kindli-

ness upon the shoulder, told her that she was really growing quite

a sensible girl nowadays. She did -

not know that silver-haired Star. though absent. was not really gone,

that hope is as lovely a blossom

. mas night.

A-“Primllivbonnab? ChristmaslMemoriés-

Of<0ne Yuletidespent in St. Petersburg, be. lormtbe war, Danielfel- lieillelba. ‘

until from very 1mg“;

I W" Wmlltlled to take

a seat duringthe short

intervals of the deafen-

ing aiillllause. And - - '

when at last I was al- Dame Nellie Melba

1°W°d '0 Willie. a crowd. thousands strong.

followed me to my hotel and serenaded me

through an. intensely cold night until three

o'clock in the morning. , . “When a few hours later. I reached the

station to leave St. Petersburg. I found it

packed with my admirers of the night be-

fore. It was with the‘ utmost difficulty‘ that

a way was made for, me to. my carriage

through the cheering, hat-tossing, delirious

crowd, who, when at last I had secured a re.

fuse in the carriage, sent in tless

ﬂushes for my autographs. and finally, ~

seizlng the pencil and my gloves, tore ‘them to pieces to keep as souvenirs."

Of another Christmas a very different and beautiful story is told. As she was leaving the theatre at Philadelphia. and was about to step into her carriage, her arms ledenwith ﬂowers, an old woman. who had waited for hours in the bitter cold‘; stole up to her and timidly asked for a single ﬂower to remem- ber he!‘ by- In a moment Melba had hand- ed to her her entire ﬂoral burden, and then, stooping down, kissed her. "God bless, your beautiful heart!" was all the poor woman could ﬁnd voice to say; ‘out if ever a bene- diction» found its way to high Heaven, surely that one did. ~ ' '

On one Christmas Eve when Melba was traveling to Minneapolis to sing, a boy, sell-' ing fruit and candy. entered her car; and after making some purchases, shc asked:- “Would you like to go to the Opera tonight?" “Well, sure!’- sald the boy with a. grin. "Would you like to hear Melba?" she con- tinued: and the lad answered: "Well. Ishoulcl smile!" "Then," said Madame, pointing to her manager, “go over to that gentleman

"is ,1»;

and ‘tell him I said he would give you tickets“? a

for yourself and your mother or some friends." The boy. in amused surprise, ask- ed: "Well, who are you, anyway?" “I am Madame Melba," she answered; whereupon the unabashed youngster sent her into con- vulsions by retortirlg: “Go oni I've seen Madame Melba, and she's real pretty."

A XMAS IN JERUSALEM

The war years found us in odd places. in the mud of Flanders we fauciedwe heard the Christmas chimes, and dreamt of ﬁreside and festive fare.‘ The burning sun of the desert scorched us, and made us wish for the snow-covered pastures oi old Erlgland. or even the murk of a London fog. Back through the years ﬂoats a recollection of the land that saw the shepherds follow the guldlngstar that led them [to Bethlehem. It was Christ- mas in Jerusalem. The night ,was heavy and threatening. In the old city. guarded by its massive walls. verv little was stirring. All

day long ceaseless barter had been going on in the arcades. Cold though the weather was. the biting wind that had prevailed all through the day, ‘would appear to have lost itself in its narrow byways, and, giving it up as a gbad job. gone out into the wider world to blow to its heart's content. for, here, the somnolent atmosphere of antiquity prevailed untroubled by the winter blasts. A weird place to ramble in the darkness of a Christ- A wonderful place in which to conjure strange images. That ﬁgure that slides away into the darkness down through the ‘ ‘ passage called Via Dolorosa. where Christ carried his Cros amid the jeers of the soldiery, he might be a thousand years old for all the change there is in him. Out of _the darkness stumbles an old Jew. He looks as ancient as the very walls around. and equally redolent of the past. Up cob- bled arcaded lanes one stumbles; the dark- ness is intense: and then out into a great square where huge cypress trees riseon eith- er hand. The night ‘is more open here. but still dark. Suddenly through a moving wreck of cloud bursts the moon, for seconds only, but, in those seconds, ﬂashes, white in the light, the mighty dome of the Mosque oi Omar. For a- moment the light rests on the gate where Christ entered the Holy City. while the girls flung ﬂowers in His path. and then all is darkness onccagain and silence. Sileucei-exoept for the guns that have op- ened out beyond the ramparts. Outside tho walls of the old city darkness reigns supreme; except that the wind and rain is more in evidence, and the thunder oi th

door closes.- Moving

billet, a ruined house 0n the 0" realisation oi candles comes to you. windkovlw boasts.) number. ‘rhsy , spay e.

course

w, .4; i.~,..1_.~ i;