The Truth About Santa Claus By Zachary Taylor He was just about the smartest and the best baby ever born. When he was having his first bath, he began raising his chubby hands as if praying. And he wouldnt nurse on Wednesdays and Fridays, for they were holy fast days. The old legend says, too, that his parents were wealthy and noble and Christian. They had a nice home by the sea in what now is southwestern Turkey, but which then was called Lycia. The childs name was Nicholas. This year, this very month of December, 1942, is the 1600th anniversary of Nicholas Day. It is not the day of his birth but of his death, on December 6, about 342 (if the musty old records are correct) that is observed even now. When Nicholas was little, more than a youngster, his parents died and left him with riches. He didnt care for them at all. He went around giving gold to the needy. He did this secretly. No one ever could learn from whom the gifts came. That is, until Nicholas got caught. A nobleman had lost all his money just when his eldest daughter was ready for marriage. And in those days, if girls didnt have money for their wedding present, they usually didnt get their mony. Of course, her poor old dad was grieved. It looked as if any wedding plans would have to be called off. Then the daughter found a bag of gold right beneath a window inside the home. What a joyous bride she was! When the noblemans second daughter was about to marry, the same thing happened! By this time the old nobleman was fairly itching with curiosity. So, when his youngest daughter was preparing to wed, he turned detective. He sat up nights by the window, watching for the giver of gold. One night he heard a rustle in the shrubs. A figure darted toward his house. Then a soft tickle as another bag of gold fell in the open window. With a leap, the old nobleman grasped the clothes of the intruder. The hood fell from the mans face. Nicholas! Said the old man, softly. But for you, Nicholas, the nobleman sobbed, my daughters might have been forced to lives of toil without husbands, or, at best, as the wives of lowly shepherds or peasants. You have saved us. I shall be your slave Hold your tongue! Stormed Nicholas. Thanks belong to God. Havent you yet learned, old man, a gift in any other name is thrice cheapened. It makes the giver proud; forgetful that only God made him able to give. The one who receives is wretched if he cannot repay, or, unhappy, at least, until he can. And the gift itself is robbed of the good will of man, and the blessing of heaven. Say now, old man, that you will never tell what I, Nicholas, did this night. Promise (Tomorrow: How Saint Nicholas Started Wandering.)