The Great Christmas Tales and Fables
Avneet Kumar Singla
Copyright © 2020-2030 by Avneet Kumar Singla
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Avneet Kumar Singla
avneetkumarsingla2@gmail.com
Contents
PREFACE
The Legend of the " White gifts"
YOUR BIRTHDAY DREAM
FIR TREE
THE TINY MATCH GIRL
TINY IVORY
THE STORY OF THE SHEPHERD
THE STORY OF CHRISTMAS
THE LEGEND OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE
TINY ALBERT
HOW THE FIR TREE BECAME A CHRISTMAS TREE?
THE THREE MAGI IN THE WEST AND THEIR SEARCH FOR CHRIST
TINY GRETCHEN AND THE WOODEN SHOE
THE TINY SHEPHERD
BABOUSCKA
THE BOY WITH THE BOX
THE WORKER IN SANDALWOOD
THE SHEPHERD WHO DID NOT GO
PAULINAS CHRISTMAS
FOR US A CHILD IS BORN
STAR
There has never been discovered a greater teacher than history, and no one has ever lived who used this power as skilfully as our great teacher.
So it's not surprising that among all the stories that have ever been written or told, none is as dear to us as the stories and legends that focus on his birth.
Young and old enjoy them and never tire of hearing them.
Unusual care was used in compiling this Tiny volume and each story has its own sweet lesson. Everyone is from the pen of one who has imbued the true spirit of Christmas. They have been selected as particularly suitable for use in connection with the Christmas Service "White gifts for the king", but prove to be attractive and helpful in every season.
It is our earnest wish that this Tiny book can find its way into many homes and schools and Sunday schools and that its contents can help to give a deeper appreciation of the true Christmas spirit.
As narrated by Phebe A. Curtiss
Many years ago, in a country far away from us, there was a certain king who was much loved by all his people. Men admired him because he was strong and fair. In all his businesses, they knew they could rely on him. Every matter that came to his consideration was carefully weighed in his mind and his decisions were always wise.
Women trusted him because he was pure and true, with high thoughts and high ambitions, and the children loved him because of his gentleness and tenderness to you. He was never so burdened with affairs of state that he could not stop giving a pleasant greeting to the youngest child, and the poorest of his subjects knew that they could count on his interest in them.
This deep-seated love and reverence for their king made the people of this country wish very much to give expression to him so that he would understand. Many consultations were held and one after another the proposed plans were rejected, but at last a very happy solution was found. It was quickly circulated here and there and met with the warmest approval everywhere.
It was a plan to celebrate the King's birthday.
Of course, this had happened before in many countries, but there were certain features of this celebration that were materially different from anything that had ever been attempted. They decided that the people should bring him all the gifts on the King's birthday, but they wanted to let him know somehow that these gifts were the expression of a love of the giver that was pure and true and unselfish, and to show this, it was decided that each gift should be a "white gift"."
The king heard of this beautiful plan, and touched his heart in a wonderful way. He decided that he would do his part to implement the idea, and let his loving subjects know how much he appreciated their thoughtfulness.
You can imagine the excitement all over the country as the King's birthday approached. All kinds of loving sacrifices were made and everyone was eager to make his gift the best he had to offer. At last the day dawned, and eagerly the people came dressed in white and carrying their white gifts. To their surprise, they were ushered into a large, large room—the largest in the palace. They stood still when they first entered it, for it was beautiful beyond all expression. It was a white room; - the floor was of white marble; the ceiling looked like a mass of soft, white, fluffy clouds; the walls were hung with beautiful white silk curtains, and all the furniture were white. At one end of the room stood a handsome white throne, and on it sat their beloved ruler, and he was dressed in bright white robes, and his attendants—all dressed in white—were grouped around him.
Then came the presentation of gifts. What a wealth there was of them—and how different they were in value. Back then it was as it is now—there were many people who had great wealth, and they brought gifts that were generous in proportion to their wealth.
One brought a handful of pearls, another a row of carved ivory. There were beautiful laces and silks and embroideries, all in pure white, and even splendid white chargers were brought to his Majesty.
But many of the people were poor-some of them very poor-and their gifts were very different from the ones I told them about. Some of the women brought handfuls of white rice, some of the boys brought their favourite white pigeons, and a dear Tiny girl smilingly gave him a pure white rose.
It was wonderful to watch the king as Everyone knelt and knelt before him as he presented his gift. He never seemed to notice whether the gift was large or small; he did not consider one gift above another as long as all were white.
Never had the king been so happy as on that day and never had such true joy filled people's hearts.
They decided to use the same plan every year, and so it happened year after year on the King's birthday people came from here and there and everywhere and brought their white gifts—the gifts that showed that their love was pure, strong, true and spotless, and year after year after year the king, in his white robes, sat on the White Throne in the great white room, and it was always the same—he did not consider one gift above another as long as all were white.
By Nellie C. König
Marcia Brownlow came out of the church, and walked quickly down the street. She seemed disturbed; her grey eyes flashed and on her cheeks shone two red spots. She was glad she didn't go home, so she didn't have to take a car, but was able to walk the short distance to Aunt Sophy's, where she had been invited to dine and visit with her special pal, Cousin Jack—who was home from college for the short Thanksgiving vacation. She slowed down when she reached her destination and waited a Tiny before going in—she wanted to calm down a Tiny, because she didn't want her friend to see her when she felt so "excited. “Back there was a secret aversion to meeting Jack—he was so different since the revival of Gipsy Smith; of course he was completely lovable and unchanged towards her, but—somehow she felt uncomfortable in his presence-and she did not enjoy disturbing her complacency.
When she entered the dining room, she was greeted with exclamations of surprise and pleasure.
"Why, Marcia! “said Aunt Sophia;" we had given you up! I almost never knew you were late for an appointment."
"You must excuse me, aunt; and put this offense on the charge of our Sunday school superintendent," replied Marcia.
"I suppose Mr. Robinson is laying out his plans for Christmas," Uncle John remarked. "He believes in taking his time on the front wheel—and that is also a very laudable habit."
"Yes," Marcia answered laconically.
Jack looked at her sharply. "Is there anything new in the Christmas line? “he asked.
The grey eyes turned black and the red spots burned again when Marcia replied, " Well, I should think about it—he suggests doing things topsy-turvy!"
"My! What does he want to do? “Cousin Augusta asked.
"Oh, he calls it the "White gift Christmas"; but the long and short of the matter is that he proposes to let Santa Claus and all the old time-honoured customs associated with Christmas, which are so dear to the hearts of children, and let the school do the giving. He has hung a large banner in the room of the Sunday school, bearing the words "gifts for the Christ child"."
"An excellent idea," exclaimed uncle John, " but I don't see much of an innovation about it; you've always made the kids give part of your Christmas party, haven't you?"
"Sure! “joined Marcia. "They always brought their Tiny gifts for the poor, and that's fine; but this time there are no gifts at all to Sunday school."
"Not even to Primary School? “asked Augusta.
"Well," admitted Marcia, "Mr. Robinson gave the children their choice, whether they would have the old Christmas or the" White Christmas", and they all voted for the new idea."
"Then why should the children be obliged to have gifts if they do not want them?", Augusta laughed.
"Oh, children are always taken with novelty, and Mr. Robinson told them so that they were fascinated; but I don't think they really understood what they gave up."
"Marcia, it seems to me that you emphasize the wrong side of the subject, if I understand it correctly," Jack said.
"Why, do you know about it? “asked Marcia surprised.
"Not much," Jack replied;" But I read the White gift story in the Sunday school Times and the report of the Painesville experiment."
"Well, Jack, tell us what you know about this mysterious" white gift, "" his father ordered.
"I would rather Marcia should say it, father; I know so Tiny."
"Oh, go on, Jack," Marcia urged; " you can't possibly know less about it than I do, because I confess I was so disappointed in the Tiny ones that the other side didn't impress me very much."
"Well, as I remember," said Jack, " the gist of the plan is this—that Christmas is Christ's birthday, and we should give him our gifts instead of each other; and the idea of the White gift was suggested by the story of the Persian king named Kublah Khan, who was a wise and good ruler and was much loved. One of his birthday his subjects held that was they called the "White feast”. “This was celebrated in a huge great white banquet hall, and each of his subjects brought his King a white gift to express that the love and loyalty of their hearts war without spot. The rich brought white chargers, ivory, and alabaster; the poor brought white doves, or even a measure of rice; and the Great King regarded all gifts alike as long as they were white. Did I say it right, cousin? “Jack asked.
"Yes, I think so. It is a beautiful thought, I must confess, and might be all right in a large, rich Sunday school; but in a mission school like ours I am sure it will be a failure. It will end with us losing our scholars. I do not believe in taking up new ideas without considering whether they are adapted to our needs or not. But please, dear people, let us say nothing more about it," Marcia pleaded, and so the subject was dropped.
One evening, when Jack Thornton said goodbye to his cousin, he put a small package in her hand and said, "I'm so sorry, Marcia, that I can't be here for your birthday, but here's my memory. Now don't pay to open it before Tuesday, and, dear, you can be sure that it's a "white gift", and maybe you have a "white birthday”. “And before she could say a word, he had opened the door and gone.
Touched by his thoughtful gift and his words, she said to herself, " a ' white birthday! “I always have beautiful birthdays. “And so she did; for she always paid attention to other people's birthdays and made much of them; and so she always received the measure of the gospel:" give, and it will be given to you; good measure, depressed and shaken and run over, the man will give into your bosom."
But these thoughts were suppressed by the pressure of things to be done—father and mother had gone to the country to visit a sick friend, and the younger brothers and sisters surrounded her, demanding songs and Bible stories, and when she got a good older sister, she devoted herself to them until bedtime. When she turned out the light, she sat down on a comfortable chair in front of the library grate and gave herself up to the magic of the Quiet Hour. The tense, irritated nerves relaxed and a strange, sweet Peace stole over her. When she looked dreamily into the fire, a star seemed to rise from the glowing coals, and shone in upon her with a beautiful soft radiance, and the words of the Archangel came into her mind: "and when they saw the star, they rejoiced with the greatest joy; and when they came into the house, they saw the Tiny creature with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshipped him; and when they had opened their treasures, they presented him gifts, gold, frankincense, and myrrh. “She kept repeating dying words to herself. How easy and relaxing they were; how direct and genuine and satisfying war this give from ancient times! There it Was-Gifts for the Christ child - " they gave him gifts, gold, frankincense and myrrh. “She remembered reading somewhere that the gold represented our earthly possessions, the incense represented our service, and the myrrh represented our suffering for his sake.
When she looked into the fire and thought, she fell asleep, and all these thoughts were woven into the fabric of a dream—and who is to say that God does not speak to his children who are still in dreams?
She dreamed that it was the morning of her birthday war. She heard cheerful voices in the hall shouting to each other, "this is Marcia's birthday. Wish you many return of the day! “There was an excited running back and forth between the different rooms and cheerful exclamations—but no one came near them! She sat up in bed and listened and wondered what it could mean! Why, mother always came into her room and folded her to her heart and said to die precious things that only a mother can say; and the children always stirred to see who should be the first to give sister a birthday kiss. Did you play a joke about her? She would be quiet and watch, and so not be left unnoticed.
Presently they went merrily downstairs into the dining room, and she heard the voice of the father saying, "Good Morning, children; I wish you many happy returns from Marcia's birthday."
Was that all it meant? Had she gone mad? Or did you just want to surprise her on a new art to celebrate her birthday? She got up, and with trembling fingers hastily dressed herself, and stole softly down the stairs to the, and looked into the dining-room. Hush! - Father asked for blessings. He thanked for the birthday of Dear Marcia and asked that it be a happy day for all of you. In addition to each disk store their own, were different packages; and these were opened amid ejaculations of surprise and pleasure, and various hugs and kisses.
After the first outburst of happiness had subsided, war, Marcia got ready and entered the dining room and said with forced piety: "good morning, everyone. “They looked up at empty, unanswered faces and said," Good Morning, Marcia " —that was all. But Marcia's heart leaped to the realization of her presence, for she had begun to fear that she was dead and that it was her spirit that was wandering about.
She stooped down and kissed her mother, who muttered abstractedly," yes, dear, " and never looked up from the gifts she was examining. With sinking heart, she turned away from her mother and walked and stood behind her father's chair and bent over whispering in his ear: "Dear Father, have you forgotten that dying is my birthday? “He replied kindly but absent:" why, daughter, will I probably forget it with all these signs around me?"- and he waved his hand to the gifts that were stacked around his plate. That was almost more than Marcia could bear, because her father was always especially tender and attentive to her birthday.
She always sat with one on his knee; and he told her what a joy and comfort she was getting for him, and he always made her a pretty compliment that made her girlish heart swell with innocent pride, for every girl knows that compliments from her own father are a Tiny sweeter than all the others.
She hung around in vain, waiting for a hint of this mysterious, unnatural behaviour of the family. They were all engrossed in plans for this Birthday-Marcia's birthday, but no indication was ever made that she was liked; no one consulted her, was she wanted to do or have done. Die guys went skating the previous week; die Tiny girls were supposed to invite four of their friends to serve the first dinner at the new dollhouse, and in the afternoon father took them all for a drive into the country to a dear friend—except for Marcia, who could not bear to get into a car since a terrible accident in which she was at war a few weeks ago. A troop of her friends came in, and in the conventional way wished her "many happy returns" of the day; and then proceeded to ignore her, and gave gifts to another member of the family. "It's a miracle," thought Marcia bitterly, " that they didn't miss a birthday party for Marcia with Marcia."
And so it was that strange, miserable day; while they were all busy celebrating her birthday, she herself was neglected and ignored as she sat alone in the quiet house at dusk - for she had no heart to light the gas-just homesick for the personal love that had marked all her birthdays and all her private life, there was a shy knock at the door, and when Marcia opened it, stood Tiny crippled Joe, one of her scholars in the mission at Sunday school. When he saw her, he gave a Tiny exclamation of surprise and joy and said, "O miss Marshay! I heard last night 'twas yer berthday today, an' I wanted guv yer suthin 'knows how Mr. Robinson he told us' bout, don't you know?—a " caus yer has allers treated me so white—'n'—'n" I don't have school hev nuthin', 'n', so I taxed him, you know, was YER telled us' bout that, in Sunday, Jesus; who died on the cross, and who's Allers willin' to help a poor feller—an 'I've taxed him to help me suthin' really nice 'n' white fer uer birthday; 'n I kep' my eyes peeled all day 'xpectin' it, 'n right now a roll swell Feller times just a paper from me,' n then guv-er-er-heap here uv white sweet smellin 'posies,' without my sayin ' a word. Here you are, Miss Marshay fer yer.
Giminy, teacher, isn't that purty? An 'O, teacher-he made' M in the fust place'n the man had guv them to me, 'n so I guess he' n pardon me in this here White gift bizness."And he held up in his thin, dirty hand a bunch of white, sweet-smelling violets.
Marcia's first impulse was to catch up with the Tiny guy and his gift in her arms and baptize her with a flood of tears from her own overloaded heart! But she hadn't taught boys in a mission Sunday school class for nothing—Joe would have thought she'd gone crazy or been foolishly beaten or sick to death; so she controlled herself and knelt beside him, reverently taking the violets in both hands and saying in a choked voice, "Joe, they're just beautiful! This is the only really the gift I had today, and I do not deserve it-but I thank him and you."
The boy looked at her with a radiant face, drew his hand over his eyes, and then answered brightly: "Oh, that's right, Miss Marshay; 'tenny rate 'tis with me, 'n' I reckon 'tis with Him"—and seizing his crutch, he hopped like a Tiny Sparrow through the door and on the road, and she heard his boyish voice: "Evenin' papers, last edishun—all 'bout the big graft 'ridicule."