THE O. H. S. TIGER, DECEMBER 13, 1922 Page 3 LITERARY CHRISTMAS Crackling, crinkling cold, Chill December morn. Dazzling, sparkling snow, Clear December noon. Crunching, crescent cheer, Crisp December eve. The patter And chatted, The glorious laughter Of children, gayly bright. The flurry And hurry, The flashing grey fury Of snowstorm, whirling light. The tingling And jingling, The happy new mingling Of sleigh-bells sounds at night. W. L. H. —O-H-S— FAREWELL FATHER TIME —O-H-S— By Sam Freedman Miss Keener's English C Class And now we are come To the end of a year, Which bids us all farewell, As it trudges out with a sad slow step, To the tune of a chiming bell. A year of joy, a year of hope, A year of sorrow too; Farewell to thee, good old man time, Welcome New Year to you. The glad New Year of hope is here, Of joy and sorrow too; This is no time for sorrow, For bitterness and travail, But a time for merry making, Let harmony prevail. Years and years and years have come And years and years have gone; Youth comes in the light of morning, Age dies in the dark of night, And so it is with Father Time, As he goes in the waning light. On New Year's Eve, rejoice and sing For there's a reason why; The New Year comes with hopes anew, With courage and future bright While old man Time goes out to die, In the dark of a waning night. And now'we are come To the end of a year, A year has come and gone, And so shall it be with other years As time travels on. But each old year takes with it, Our faults and failures too; So farewell to Old Year, And welcome to the New. —O-H-S— MERRY CHRISTMAS Merry old December is here. Merriest month of all the year! Sometimes it brings high winds, deep suows And a frosty wind that bites the nose, But this is the .month, the time of year When the much beloved saint, to all so dear, Comes to town and visits our stores Unburdening himself of some of his New manufactures, inventions, per¬chance That all may make a choice in ad¬vance. But Santa Claus is now very old, And set in his ways so I've been told, He prefers his faithful reindeer and sleigh To all the motor cars on Broadway. So here's to December, let's give "him a cheer The brightest and jolliest month of the year. —Louise Zeller. —O-H-S— THE CULTIVATED CHRISTMAS TREE Once there was a boy named Peter Coldwater. At the right time of the year Peter wanter a Christmas tree, so he went to the woods to get it. Selecting a mountain ash tree, he was about to cut it down, when a flock of star¬lings disputed with him, claiming it as their Christmas tree and all its bright berries as their own. Then he considered a nut tree, but the squir¬rels were furious and wanted to know where their Christmas would be if he took it. So the boy concluded that no one eles would want the ever¬green tree, with nothing on it but cones, and took that. Reflecting, however, that his tree did not seem likely to have anything on it worth while, Peter remembered what an old woodman had once told him about a wild tree that had re¬sponded wonderfully to cultivation, and resolved to see what could be done in his own case. His mother smiled when he made his plans known, but offered no objection as her son set the tree up in a box, sup¬plied it with enriched earth and watered it from day to day. His frequent inspections did not much re¬ward his hope; indeed, the tree seemed to be withering, and yet on Christmas morning there it was, all adorned and well supplied with gifts as beautifully as a barberry bush. It was strange, however, that with¬al there did not seem to be much happiness among' the branches. Be¬fore long, Peter seemed as dissatisfied and fretful as though his tree had borne him nothing more than its wild cones. His mother felt a good deal disappointed, for she hoped so won¬derful a surprise would be as happy a thing for him as it had been for her; but she could think of nothing better, so the Christmas celebration began to seem like a failure. Mr. Coldwater had a suggestion to make. He said he thought that the tree had not been cultivated enough, and that if Peter invited some of his young friends in he thought they might get a good deal of pleasure out of things even yet. When the little company had as¬sembled and Mr. Coldwater had dis¬tributed some packages that he had placed on the tree there was a merry time over the games that he knew how to play, and a wondering when he disappeared into the hall¬way, promising to come back all dressed up in a minute and take the gifts off that were left on the tree and see what they were and whom they were for. They hardly knew the jolly man who came back after a little, all in red, with white whiskers and paper snowflakes in his hair and' on his coat as tho he had come in out of a snowstorm. Little Dolly Dimple, the smallest of them all, jumped up and leaned on her crutch as -she ex¬claimed: "I know him, he's a friend of mine," mistaking him for Santa Claus, but the older ones did not correct her mistake. Whoever he was, he made them a little speech and wished them a merry day and began to take off the three remaining gifts. In his speech he said that he felt sure that there must be a good deal of happiness on that tree, because God had made it, hope had planted it, faith had watered it, affection had filled it with fruit, but as they had not yet had the best things that cultivation could pro¬duce he was now going to let them have them. The first of the three gifts was a small box, all done up in tissue paper. When Dolly had taken off the paper and undone the box there was another little box in that, then there was another little box and so it went on until, in the last box, she found a gold dollar. The second gift was a bayberry candle, with these words on the piece of paper: "Set me in the window some dark night, Many will not see me, someone might." Madeline got this second present and seemed very glad of it. Then the third gift was only a note, all done up in an envelope, this was handed to Peter, it helped him to see why the party had made him happier than he had been when he was all alone with his tree, for he could read not only the note, but also the sweet meaning when it said: All trees are Christmas trees that bear, The care of love and love of care. To cultivate a Christmas tree, Plant it in love and let it be. Gold for misfortune it will keep, Light in the darkness it will give, Its truth Will blossom while you sleep, Its happy kindness while you live. So Peter found out all that the old woodsman had meant when he told him about cultivating trees. —Nettie Logan. GRANDMA'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT S She opened the bundle with nervous hands. She patted each gift just so. The big shawl of gray so heavy and warm; It would keep out the cold and snow. There were some mittens of warm black wool, and Three pair of stockings the same; While a black silk bag to hold knit¬ting and such, In silver floss bore her name. A gray velvet bonnet, so warm and neat A collar and cap of black lace. A black sateen apron and handker¬chiefs five; And a gray woolen veil for her face. She red the last package—"From Betty, New York." 'Twas wound round with ribbon so gay; _ When a brighter mass of flame tum¬bled out in her hand And glistened and gleamed where it lay. A note read: "Dear Gram.: I'm a flapper now But some day I'll grow old—when I do, I hope some one will send me, a bundle so gay, As the one I'm sending to you." But her relatives whispered, and eyed her actions, While attending the table's needs. "Now wasn't it foolish of Betty," they said, "To send her those silly red beads." Then she folded her presents neatly away In her big black bureau so sleek. But the flame colored beads, she held in her hand Pressed close to a withered cheek! Nettie Logan. —O-H-S— Elder Hepplewhite's Dream little spruce. To trim it and set it on the kitchen table for Jared would be an easy matter. The fear and the ignominy of being put in the stocks laid hold of her, but one look of Jared's eager face and she whispered: "We'll have one, but don't dare breathe it to a soul?" for just then her father's step was heard at the door.. The next night Elder Heppelwhite had a strange dream. It seemed to him that his wife, looking fairer than ever before, came to him, took his hand and led him through a great black void, filled with strange un- definable shapes. He could feel the touch of her soft hand and hear the rustle of her white robes. As they walked on he tried to speak to her, but she turned away from him, scorn¬fully and pointed to ahead. There" were two figures hidden almost by the protection of a huge tree, from which emanated a soft glow, as if a hundred thousand glow-worms had been caught in its branches. Could those children be his? Yes, they were and the expression on their eager faces was one of heavenly rapture, but they did not move when they were called by him and he in¬stinctively felt that their world was no longer his. Suddenly the Elder was awakened by the sound of soft footfalls in the hall. Half-dozedly he got up, and followed Charity, for it was Charity, —out of the house into the little outside kitchen. There on the table stood .a small Christmas tree, a beautiful little spruce. It was hung with an orange, three doughnuts, some pink pop corn and a faded Noah's Ark. A pitiful little tree in¬deed! Charity had helped Jared out of his chair and he was gazing at the tree just as he had in a dream. An awful pain smote the father's heart. His children—in the kitchen afraid to move for fear of waking him! Charity had turned round and had seen him. She gasped!—"Father Oh, Father! Please, please don't have me put in the stocks!" How like his dead wife she looked now! His dead wife, yes, and would she have wished his chhild to be publicly upbraided and scorned by that more mental than physical pun-ishment, the stocks? Then all his Puritan vigor came to his aid. "Child," he said, "what evil demon influenced you to make this thing, unseemly in the sight of the Lord, to influence your brother in the ways of wickedness?" "Is it really wicked, father, to give my poor little brother pleasure?" answered Charity between chatter¬ing teeth. Then as she stood there the full meaning of his dream come over him. Was it the kindly spirit of his wife that spoke to him, or was it his conscience? Whatever the influence, Elder Hep¬pelwhite quietly picked up the tree and carried it to an honored place on the mahogany table in the parlor, and remarked gruffly: "Whether it is a sin or not, you shall have your tree." —Louise Zeller. Weber is a good school, but the trouble with them is, they don't bury their dead. They let them walk around. 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