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In 1875, Mark Twain wrote a letter to his daughter Susie, who was 3 years old at the time, which he signed "Your loving Santa Claus." You can read it in its entirety below, but first a little bit of pretext.

Twain was very close to his daughter, all the way up to her untimely death at age 24 in 1896, and that year she had written her first letter to Santa Claus. Twain, being a writer, couldn't stand for his young daughter to feel like her work went unheard, so he decided to pen the following letter to "My Dear Susie Clemens" from "The Man in the Moon" himself.

The story has been widely shared since in anthologies as a cute reminder of the spirit of Christmas and the love of parents for their children, who year after year don bright red suits and leave out milk and cookies to keep the magic alive.

"A Letter From Santa Claus" by Mark Twain

My Dear Susie Clemens,

I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me...I can read your and your baby sister's jagged and fantastic marks without any trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters-I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself--and kissed both of you, too...But...there were...one or two small orders which I could not fill because we ran out of stock...

There was a word or two in your mama's letter which...I took to be "a trunk full of doll's clothes." Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o'clock this morning to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to the door. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak-otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse's bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle through it you must speak in the tube and say, "Welcome, Santa Claus!" Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you what color you want the trunk to be...and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you want the trunk to contain. Then when I say "Good-by and a merry Christmas to my little Susy Clemens," you must say "Good-by, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much." Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the hall-if it is a trunk you want--because I couldn't get such a thing as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know...If I should leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I haven't time to do such things. George must not use a broom, but a rag-else he will die someday...If my boot should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and someone points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus's boot made on the marble, what will you say, little sweetheart?

Good-by for a few minutes, till I come down to the world and ring the kitchen doorbell.

Your loving Santa Claus
Whom people sometimes call
"The Man in the Moon"

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Read Mark Twain's Touching Christmas Letter to His Daughter

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In 1875, Mark Twain wrote a letter to his daughter Susie, who was 3 years old at the time, which he signed "Your loving Santa Claus." You can read it in its entirety below, but first a little bit of pretext.

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JonBenét Ramsey's Christmas murder caused an enormous storm across America

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December 23 - Review of a Christmas film

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December 23 - Review of a Christmas film

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Siblings Kate and Teddy Pierce hatch a scheme to capture Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. When the plan goes awry, the kids join forces with a somewhat jolly Saint Nick and his loyal elves to save the holiday before it's too late.

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December 14th - 2 pages of a non-fiction book

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December 14th - 2 pages of a non-fiction book

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Dissledoo | Christmas Tales | Bedtime Stories

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Uh-oh! Santa is stuck in Australia! But luckily, with a little help from his friends, and a red car called Dissledoo, he might get all the presents delivered !

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December 23rd - review of a christmas film

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December 23rd - review of a christmas film

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I could attempt to summarize the dozen (or so) love stories, but that way madness lies. Maybe I can back into the movie by observing the all-star gallery of dependable romantic comedy stars, led by Hugh Grant, and you know what? Little by little, a movie at a time, Grant has flowered into an absolutely splendid romantic comedian. He's getting to be one of those actors like Christopher Walken or William Macy where you smile when you see them on the screen. He has that Cary Grantish ability to seem bemused by his own charm, and so much self-confidence that he plays the British prime minister as if he took the role to be a good sport.

Emma Thompson plays his sister, with that wry way she has with normality, and Alan Rickman plays her potentially cheating husband with the air of a lawyer who hates to point out the escape clause he's just discovered. Laura Linney plays his assistant, who is shy to admit she loves her co-worker Karl ( Rodrigo Santoro), who is also shy to admit he loves her, and so you see how the stories go round and round.

Oh, and the prime minister walks into 10 Downing Street his first day on the job and Natalie the tea girl ( Martine McCutcheon) brings him his tea and biscuits, and the nation's most prominent bachelor realizes with a sinking heart that he has fallen head over teapot in love. "Oh, no, that is so inconvenient," he says to himself, with the despair of a man who wants to be ruled by his head but knows that his netherlands have the votes.

Wandering past these lovable couples is the film's ancient mariner, a broken-down rock star named Billy Mack, who is played by Bill Nighy as if Keith Richards had never recorded anything but crap, and knew it. By the time he is 50, George Orwell said, a man has the face he deserves, and Nighy looks as if he spent those years turning his face into a warning for young people: Look what can happen to you if you insist on being a naughty boy.

Billy Mack is involved in recording a cynical Christmas version of one of his old hits. The hit was crappy, the Christmas version is crap squared, and he is only too happy to admit it. He is long past pretending to be nice just because he's on a talk show. At one point he describes his song with a versatile torrent of insults of which the only printable word is "turd," and on another show when he's told he should spend Christmas with someone he loves, he replies, "When I was young, I was greedy and foolish, and now I'm left with no one. Wrinkled and alone." That this is true merely adds to his charm, and Nighy steals the movie, especially in the surprising late scene where he confesses genuine affection for (we suspect) the first time in his life.

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Love Actually movie review & film summary (2003) | Roger Ebert

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"Love Actually" is a belly-flop into the sea of romantic comedy. It contains about a dozen couples who are in love; that's an approximate figure because some of them fall out of love and others double up or change partners.

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December 21 - 10 interesting facts about christmas

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December 21 - 10 interesting facts about christmas

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As the year draws to an end, millions of people around the world look forward to sparkling decorations, colourful lights, delicious food, jolly music and exciting gifts. Yup... because Christmas is coming! But how much do you know about this super-fun holiday? It's time to find out in our ten facts about Christmas...

Facts about Christmas

1) Christmas is a Christian festival that celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ, who Christians believe was the son of God. For most people, it takes place every year on 25 December - the day that the Roman Catholic Church chose to mark Jesus' birthday. But, in fact, no one actually knows the exact date Jesus was born!

Christians believe that Jesus was born in a stable in
a town called Bethlehem, today found in an area of the Middle East called the West Bank.

2) Did you know that not all Christians celebrate Christmas on the same day? In countries with large populations of Orthodox Christians*, such as Russia, the Ukraine and Romania, Christmas Day falls on 7 January. Some Greek Orthodox Christians celebrate Christmas on 7 January, too.

3) The name 'Christmas' comes from the old English phrase Cristes maesse, which means ' Christ's mass'. But what about ' Xmas'? Lots of people think this is just a modern-day abbreviation - but it actually dates back to the 16th century! The 'X' is said to represent the Greek letter 'Chi'- the first letter in the Greek word for Christ, Χριστός (pronounced ' Christos').

Festive food like roast turkey, fruity mince pies and Christmas pudding became popular in Victorian times!

4) Come Christmas, people around the world enjoy all kinds of jolly-good fun! Many of the festive traditions we have in the UK today came about in the Victorian era - such as Christmas cards, gift-giving and crackers, as well as traditional foods like mince pies and roast turkey! Queen Victoria and her husband Prince Albert were huge fans of Christmas, in fact!

5) Christmas trees also became popular in Victorian Britain. But these were first seen in 16th Century Germany where, at Christmas time, people decorated fir trees with fruit and nuts - and later sweets, paper shapes and candles. Amazingly, historians think the origins of this festive tradition may date back to the Romans and Ancient Egyptians, who used evergreen plants and garlands as symbols of everlasting life. Wow!

Christmas trees were introduced to England around 1800.

6) Check this out - every year, Norway sends a beautiful home-grown Christmas tree to London, where it is decorated with lights in Trafalgar Square. Standing a towering 20m tall, the terrific tree is a gift to say thank you for the help the UK gave Norway during World War II. What a tree-mendous gift!

7) We can't talk about Christmas without a mention to the big bearded, rosy-cheeked jolly man... Father Christmas! But have you wondered how he got the name Santa Claus? It's from Sinterklaas, which means Saint Nicholas in Dutch, the language of the Netherlands. St. Nicholas was a Christian bishop who lived in the 4th century - known for being kind and generous, he later became the patron saint of children.

On the night before Christmas, it's said that Santa Claus delivers presents to children on a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer!

8) But Santa isn't the only Christmas character - there are many more around the world! In Italy, for example, a kind witch called La Befana is said to fly around on a broomstick delivering toys to children! And in Iceland, children leave shoes under the window for 13 mischievous trolls called the Yule Lads. If the child has been good, they'll find sweets in their shoe - but if they've been bad, the Yule lads will leave them a rotten potato!

Check out this spooky puppet of La Befana, the friendly Christmas witch!

9) We all love to sing along to Jingle Bells, but have you ever noticed that the song doesn't have the word Christmas in it? Or Jesus or Santa Claus? That's because it wasn't originally a Christmas song! In fact, the jolly anthem was written in 1850, entitled One Horse Open Sleigh, for the American holiday, Thanksgiving!

10) Now, imagine if there was no Christmas. Does it feel quite strange? Sad, perhaps? Well, believe it or not, in 1644 Christmas celebrations were made illegal in England, and soon after, in theEnglish Colonies in America, too! At that time, members of the government felt that the religious meaning of Christmas had been forgotten, and so banned the holiday festivities. Some people still celebrated in secret, however, until Christmas was once again legal... almost 20 years later!

Feeling festive? Then check out these top tips to make your Christmas as eco-friendly as possible!

Glossary
*Over the centuries, Christianity divided into different groups, called 'denominations'. The three main denominations are Roman Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant.
*Evergreen trees are trees that keep their green leaves all year round, like spruce trees, pine trees and fir trees.

Images
Images ⓒ Getty Images: Santa and sleigh (134107545), nativity scene (186041990), Victorian Christmas lunch (908208794), Christmas tree (119296650), La Befana (954665456).

Did you enjoy reading our Christmas facts? Leave a comment and let us know!

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Facts about Christmas! - National Geographic Kids

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Learn all about the festive season in our facts about Christmas! What's the meaning of Christmas? Why is it called Xmas? Who was St. Nicholas?

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December 19 - review of my favorite singer

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December 19 - review of my favorite singer

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Argentina celebrate in Qatar after World Cup win

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The Argentina team celebrate their World Cup triumph on an open-top bus in Qatar after a thrilling final against France.

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Will Smith | Biography, Music, King Richard, Movies, & Facts

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Will Smith, American actor and musician whose charisma and quick wit helped him transition from rap music to acting. His notable films included Bad Boys (1995), Independence Day (1996), Ali (2001), King Richard (2021), and the Men in Black series. Learn more about Smith's life and career.

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Bedtime Stories for COVID Xmas | Dear Santa | Poems for Kids

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Mia writes a poem to Santa about the importance of washing his hands, wearing a mask and social distancing at 2020 Christmas. Read the best bedtime stories here!

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It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. Of course when she had left her house she'd had slippers on, but what good had they been? They were very big slippers, way too big for her, for they belonged to her mother. The little girl had lost them running across the road, where two carriages had rattled by terribly fast. One slipper she'd not been able to find again, and a boy had run off with the other, saying he could use it very well as a cradle some day when he had children of his own. And so the little girl walked on her naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried several packages of matches, and she held a box of them in her hand. No one had bought any from her all day long, and no one had given her a cent.

Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a picture of misery, poor little girl! The snowflakes fell on her long fair hair, which hung in pretty curls over her neck. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was a wonderful smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's eve. Yes, she thought of that!

In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected farther out into the street than the other, she sat down and drew up her little feet under her. She was getting colder and colder, but did not dare to go home, for she had sold no matches, nor earned a single cent, and her father would surely beat her. Besides, it was cold at home, for they had nothing over them but a roof through which the wind whistled even though the biggest cracks had been stuffed with straw and rags.

Her hands were almost dead with cold. Oh, how much one little match might warm her! If she could only take one from the box and rub it against the wall and warm her hands. She drew one out. R-r-ratch! How it sputtered and burned! It made a warm, bright flame, like a little candle, as she held her hands over it; but it gave a strange light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she were sitting before a great iron stove with shining brass knobs and a brass cover. How wonderfully the fire burned! How comfortable it was! The youngster stretched out her feet to warm them too; then the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the burnt match in her hand.

She struck another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a thin veil, and she could see through it into a room. On the table a snow-white cloth was spread, and on it stood a shining dinner service. The roast goose steamed gloriously, stuffed with apples and prunes. And what was still better, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled along the floor with a knife and fork in its breast, right over to the little girl. Then the match went out, and she could see only the thick, cold wall. She lighted another match. Then she was sitting under the most beautiful Christmas tree. It was much larger and much more beautiful than the one she had seen last Christmas through the glass door at the rich merchant's home. Thousands of candles burned on the green branches, and colored pictures like those in the printshops looked down at her. The little girl reached both her hands toward them. Then the match went out. But the Christmas lights mounted higher. She saw them now as bright stars in the sky. One of them fell down, forming a long line of fire.

"Now someone is dying," thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul went up to God.

She rubbed another match against the wall. It became bright again, and in the glow the old grandmother stood clear and shining, kind and lovely.

"Grandmother!" cried the child. "Oh, take me with you! I know you will disappear when the match is burned out. You will vanish like the warm stove, the wonderful roast goose and the beautiful big Christmas tree!"

And she quickly struck the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother with her. And the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter than daylight. Grandmother had never been so grand and beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both of them flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor fear-they were with God.

But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the little girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. The New Year's sun rose upon a little pathetic figure. The child sat there, stiff and cold, holding the matches, of which one bundle was almost burned.

"She wanted to warm herself," the people said. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, and how happily she had gone with her old grandmother into the bright New Year.

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Hans Christian Andersen : The Little Match Girl

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It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. Of course when she had left her house she'd had slippers on, but what good had they been?

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E-text prepared by Margaret Macaskill, David Garcia,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

Editorial note: While the original illustrations are listed, none are included in this e-book.

There are several editions of this ebook in the Project Gutenberg collection. Various characteristics of each ebook are listed to aid in selecting the preferred file.
Click on any of the filenumbers below to quickly view each ebook.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

THE SIGN IN THE SKY

BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON

FOR THE SAKE OF A LITTLE CHILD

IN THE HIDDEN WAY OF SORROW

A PEARL OF GREAT PRICE

ILLUSTRATIONS

"'IT IS THE SIGN,' HE SAID"
"HE CAUGHT IT UP AND READ"
"'THERE IS NONE HERE SAVE ME"'
"HE HEALED THE SICK"
"THE OLD MAN FOLLOWED THE MULTITUDE"
"THE OTHER WISE MAN HAD FOUND THE KING"

THE STORY OF OTHER WISE MAN.

Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul, May keep the path, but will not reach the goal; While he who walks in love may wander far, Yet God will bring him where the blessed are.

You know the story of the Three Wise Men of the East, and how they travelled from far away to offer their gifts at the manger-cradle in Bethlehem. But have you ever heard the story of the Other Wise Man, who also saw the star in its rising, and set out to follow it, yet did not arrive with his brethren in the presence of the young child Jesus? Of the great desire of this fourth pilgrim, and how it was denied, yet accomplished in the denial; of his many wanderings and the probations of his soul; of the long way of his seeking, and the strange way of his finding, the One whom he sought-I would tell the tale as I have heard fragments of it in the Hall of Dreams, in the palace of the Heart of Man.

THE SIGN IN THE SKY

In the days when Augustus Caesar was master of many kings and Herod reigned in Jerusalem, there lived in the city of Ecbatana, among the mountains of Persia, a certain man named Artaban, the Median. His house stood close to the outermost of the seven walls which encircled the royal treasury. From his roof he could look over the rising battlements of black and white and crimson and blue and red and silver and gold, to the hill where the summer palace of the Parthian emperors glittered like a jewel in a sevenfold crown.

Around the dwelling of Artaban spread a fair garden, a tangle of flowers and fruit-trees, watered by a score of streams descending from the slopes of Mount Orontes, and made musical by innumerable birds. But all colour was lost in the soft and odorous darkness of the late September night, and all sounds were hushed in the deep charm of its silence, save the plashing of the water, like a voice half sobbing and half laughing under the shadows. High above the trees a dim glow of light shone through the curtained arches of the upper chamber, where the master of the house was holding council with his friends.

He stood by the doorway to greet his guests-a tall, dark man of about forty years, with brilliant eyes set near together under his broad brow, and firm lines graven around his fine, thin lips; the brow of a dreamer and the mouth of a soldier, a man of sensitive feeling but inflexible will-one of those who, in whatever age they may live, are born for inward conflict and a life of quest.

His robe was of pure white wool, thrown over a tunic of silk; and a white, pointed cap, with long lapels at the sides, rested on his flowing black hair. It was the dress of the ancient priesthood of the Magi, called the fire-worshippers.

"Welcome!" he said, in his low, pleasant voice, as one after another entered the room-"welcome, Abdus; peace be with you, Rhodaspes and Tigranes, and with you my father, Abgarus. You are all welcome, and this house grows bright with the joy of your presence."

There were nine of the men, differing widely in age, but alike in the richness of their dress of many-coloured silks, and in the massive golden collars around their necks, marking them as Parthian nobles, and in the winged circles of gold resting upon their breasts, the sign of the followers of Zoroaster.

They took their places around a small black altar at the end of the room, where a tiny flame was burning. Artaban, standing beside it, and waving a barsom of thin tamarisk branches above the fire, fed it with dry sticks of pine and fragrant oils. Then he began the ancient chant of the Yasna, and the voices of his companions joined in the beautiful hymn to Ahura-Mazda:

We worship the Spirit Divine,
   all wisdom and goodness possessing,
Surrounded by Holy Immortals,
   the givers of bounty and blessing.
We joy in the works of His hands,
   His truth and His power confessing.

We praise all the things that are pure,
    for these are His only Creation;
The thoughts that are true, and the words
    and deeds that have won approbation;
These are supported by Him,
    and for these we make adoration.

Hear us, O Mazda! Thou livest
    in truth and in heavenly gladness;
Cleanse us from falsehood, and keep us
    from evil and bondage to badness;
Pour out the light and the joy of Thy life
    on our darkness and sadness.

Shine on our gardens and fields,
    Shine on our working and weaving;
Shine on the whole race of man,
    Believing and unbelieving;
    Shine on us now through the night,
    Shine on us now in Thy might,
The flame of our holy love
    and the song of our worship receiving.

The fire rose with the chant, throbbing as if it were made of musical flame, until it cast a bright illumination through the whole apartment, revealing its simplicity and splendour.

The floor was laid with tiles of dark blue veined with white; pilasters of twisted silver stood out against the blue walls; the clearstory of round-arched windows above them was hung with azure silk; the vaulted ceiling was a pavement of sapphires, like the body of heaven in its clearness, sown with silver stars. From the four corners of the roof hung four golden magic-wheels, called the tongues of the gods. At the eastern end, behind the altar, there were two dark-red pillars of porphyry; above them a lintel of the same stone, on which was carved the figure of a winged archer, with his arrow set to the string and his bow drawn.

The doorway between the pillars, which opened upon the terrace of the roof, was covered with a heavy curtain of the colour of a ripe pomegranate, embroidered with innumerable golden rays shooting upward from the floor. In effect the room was like a quiet, starry night, all azure and silver, flushed in the East with rosy promise of the dawn. It was, as the house of a man should be, an expression of the character and spirit of the master.

He turned to his friends when the song was ended, and invited them to be seated on the divan at the western end of the room.

"You have come to-night," said he, looking around the circle, "at my call, as the faithful scholars of Zoroaster, to renew your worship and rekindle your faith in the God of Purity, even as this fire has been rekindled on the altar. We worship not the fire, but Him of whom it is the chosen symbol, because it is the purest of all created things. It speaks to us of one who is Light and Truth. Is it not so, my father?"

"It is well said, my son," answered the venerable Abgarus. "The enlightened are never idolaters. They lift the veil of the form and go in to the shrine of the reality, and new light and truth are coming to them continually through the old symbols." "Hear me, then, my father and my friends," said Artaban, very quietly, "while I tell you of the new light and truth that have come to me through the most ancient of all signs. We have searched the secrets of nature together, and studied the healing virtues of water and fire and the plants. We have read also the books of prophecy in which the future is dimly foretold in words that are hard to understand. But the highest of all learning is the knowledge of the stars. To trace their courses is to untangle the threads of the mystery of life from the beginning to the end. If we could follow them perfectly, nothing would be hidden from us. But is not our knowledge of them still incomplete? Are there not many stars still beyond our horizon-lights that are known only to the dwellers in the far south-land, among the spice-trees of Punt and the gold mines of Ophir?"

There was a murmur of assent among the listeners.

"The stars," said Tigranes, "are the thoughts of the Eternal. They are numberless. But the thoughts of man can be counted, like the years of his life. The wisdom of the Magi is the greatest of all wisdoms on earth, because it knows its own ignorance. And that is the secret of power. We keep men always looking and waiting for a new sunrise. But we ourselves know that the darkness is equal to the light, and that the conflict between them will never be ended."

"That does not satisfy me," answered Artaban, "for, if the waiting must be endless, if there could be no fulfilment of it, then it would not be wisdom to look and wait. We should become like those new teachers of the Greeks, who say that there is no truth, and that the only wise men are those who spend their lives in discovering and exposing the lies that have been believed in the world. But the new sunrise will certainly dawn in the appointed time. Do not our own books tell us that this will come to pass, and that men will see the brightness of a great light?"

"That is true," said the voice of Abgarus; "every faithful disciple of Zoroaster knows the prophecy of the Avesta and carries the word in his heart. 'In that day Sosiosh the Victorious shall arise out of the number of the prophets in the east country. Around him shall shine a mighty brightness, and he shall make life everlasting, incorruptible, and immortal, and the dead shall rise again.'"

"This is a dark saying," said Tigranes, "and it may be that we shall never understand it. It is better to consider the things that are near at hand, and to increase the influence of the Magi in their own country, rather than to look for one who may be a stranger, and to whom we must resign our power."

The others seemed to approve these words. There was a silent feeling of agreement manifest among them; their looks responded with that indefinable expression which always follows when a speaker has uttered the thought that has been slumbering in the hearts of his listeners. But Artaban turned to Abgarus with a glow on his face, and said:

"My father, I have kept this prophecy in the secret place of my soul. Religion without a great hope would be like an altar without a living fire. And now the flame has burned more brightly, and by the light of it I have read other words which also have come from the fountain of Truth, and speak yet more clearly of the rising of the Victorious One in his brightness."

He drew from the breast of his tunic two small rolls of fine linen, with writing upon them, and unfolded them carefully upon his knee.

"In the years that are lost in the past, long before our fathers came into the land of Babylon, there were wise men in Chaldea, from whom the first of the Magi learned the secret of the heavens. And of these Balaam the son of Beor was one of the mightiest. Hear the words of his prophecy: 'There shall come a star out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall arise out of Israel.'"

The lips of Tigranes drew downward with contempt, as he said:

"Judah was a captive by the waters of Babylon, and the sons of Jacob were in bondage to our kings. The tribes of Israel are scattered through the mountains like lost sheep, and from the remnant that dwells in Judea under the yoke of Rome neither star nor sceptre shall arise."

"And yet," answered Artaban, "it was the Hebrew Daniel, the mighty searcher of dreams, the counsellor of kings, the wise Belteshazzar, who was most honored and beloved of our great King Cyrus. A prophet of sure things and a reader of the thoughts of God, Daniel proved himself to our people. And these are the words that he wrote." (Artaban read from the second roll:) "'Know, therefore, and understand that from the going forth of the commandment to restore Jerusalem, unto the Anointed One, the Prince, the time shall be seven and threescore and two weeks.'"

"But, my son," said Abgarus, doubtfully, "these are mystical numbers. Who can interpret them, or who can find the key that shall unlock their meaning?"

Artaban answered: "It has been shown to me and to my three companions among the Magi-Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. We have searched the ancient tablets of Chaldea and computed the time. It falls in this year. We have studied the sky, and in the spring of the year we saw two of the greatest stars draw near together in the sign of the Fish, which is the house of the Hebrews. We also saw a new star there, which shone for one night and then vanished. Now again the two great planets are meeting. This night is their conjunction. My three brothers are watching at the ancient temple of the Seven Spheres, at Borsippa, in Babylonia, and I am watching here. If the star shines again, they will wait ten days for me at the temple, and then we will set out together for Jerusalem, to see and worship the promised one who shall be born King of Israel. I believe the sign will come. I have made ready for the journey. I have sold my house and my possessions, and bought these three jewels-a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl-to carry them as tribute to the King. And I ask you to go with me on the pilgrimage, that we may have joy together in finding the Prince who is worthy to be served."

While he was speaking he thrust his hand into the inmost fold of his girdle and drew out three great gems-one blue as a fragment of the night sky, one redder than a ray of sunrise, and one as pure as the peak of a snow mountain at twilight-and laid them on the outspread linen scrolls before him.

But his friends looked on with strange and alien eyes. A veil of doubt and mistrust came over their faces, like a fog creeping up from the marshes to hide the hills. They glanced at each other with looks of wonder and pity, as those who have listened to incredible sayings, the story of a wild vision, or the proposal of an impossible enterprise.

At last Tigranes said: "Artaban, this is a vain dream. It comes from too much looking upon the stars and the cherishing of lofty thoughts. It would be wiser to spend the time in gathering money for the new fire-temple at Chala. No king will ever rise from the broken race of Israel, and no end will ever come to the eternal strife of light and darkness. He who looks for it is a chaser of shadows. Farewell."

And another said: "Artaban, I have no knowledge of these things, and my office as guardian of the royal treasure binds me here. The quest is not for me. But if thou must follow it, fare thee well."

And another said: "In my house there sleeps a new bride, and I cannot leave her nor take her with me on this strange journey. This quest is not for me. But may thy steps be prospered wherever thou goest. So, farewell."

And another said: "I am ill and unfit for hardship, but there is a man among my servants whom I will send with thee when thou goest, to bring me word how thou farest."

But Abgarus, the oldest and the one who loved Artaban the best, lingered after the others had gone, and said, gravely: "My son, it may be that the light of truth is in this sign that has appeared in the skies, and then it will surely lead to the Prince and the mighty brightness. Or it may be that it is only a shadow of the light, as Tigranes has said, and then he who follows it will have only a long pilgrimage and an empty search. But it is better to follow even the shadow of the best than to remain content with the worst. And those who would see wonderful things must often be ready to travel alone. I am too old for this journey, but my heart shall be a companion of the pilgrimage day and night, and I shall know the end of thy quest. Go in peace."

So one by one they went out of the azure chamber with its silver stars, and Artaban was left in solitude.

He gathered up the jewels and replaced them in his girdle. For a long time he stood and watched the flame that flickered and sank upon the altar. Then he crossed the hall, lifted the heavy curtain, and passed out between the dull red pillars of porphyry to the terrace on the roof.

The shiver that thrills through the earth ere she rouses from her night sleep had already begun, and the cool wind that heralds the daybreak was drawing downward from the lofty snow-traced ravines of Mount Orontes. Birds, half awakened, crept and chirped among the rustling leaves, and the smell of ripened grapes came in brief wafts from the arbours.

Far over the eastern plain a white mist stretched like a lake. But where the distant peak of Zagros serrated the western horizon the sky was clear. Jupiter and Saturn rolled together like drops of lambent flame about to blend in one.

As Artaban watched them, behold, an azure spark was born out of the darkness beneath, rounding itself with purple splendours to a crimson sphere, and spiring upward through rays of saffron and orange into a point of white radiance. Tiny and infinitely remote, yet perfect in every part, it pulsated in the enormous vault as if the three jewels in the Magian's breast had mingled and been transformed into a living heart of light. He bowed his head. He covered his brow with his hands.

"It is the sign," he said. "The King is coming, and I will go to meet him."

BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON

All night long Vasda, the swiftest of Artaban's horses, had been waiting, saddled and bridled, in her stall, pawing the ground impatiently, and shaking her bit as if she shared the eagerness of her master's purpose, though she knew not its meaning.

Before the birds had fully roused to their strong, high, joyful chant of morning song, before the white mist had begun to lift lazily from the plain, the other wise man was in the saddle, riding swiftly along the high-road, which skirted the base of Mount Orontes, westward.

How close, how intimate is the comradeship between a man and his favourite horse on a long journey. It is a silent, comprehensive friendship, an intercourse beyond the need of words. They drink at the same way-side springs, and sleep under the same guardian stars. They are conscious together of the subduing spell of nightfall and the quickening joy of daybreak. The master shares his evening meal with his hungry companion, and feels the soft, moist lips caressing the palm of his hand as they close over the morsel of bread. In the gray dawn he is roused from his bivouac by the gentle stir of a warm, sweet breath over his sleeping face, and looks up into the eyes of his faithful fellow-traveller, ready and waiting for the toil of the day. Surely, unless he is a pagan and an unbeliever, by whatever name he calls upon his God, he will thank Him for this voiceless sympathy, this dumb affection, and his morning prayer will embrace a double blessing-God bless us both, and keep our feet from falling and our souls from death!

And then, through the keen morning air, the swift hoofs beat their spirited music along the road, keeping time to the pulsing of two hearts that are moved with the same eager desire-to conquer space, to devour the distance, to attain the goal of the journey.

Artaban must indeed ride wisely and well if he would keep the appointed hour with the other Magi; for the route was a hundred and fifty parasangs, and fifteen was the utmost that he could travel in a day. But he knew Vasda's strength, and pushed forward without anxiety, making the fixed distance every day, though he must travel late into the night, and in the morning long before sunrise.

He passed along the brown slopes of Mt. Orontes, furrowed by the rocky courses of a hundred torrents.

He crossed the level plains of the Nisaeans, where the famous herds of horses, feeding in the wide pastures, tossed their heads at Vasda's approach, and galloped away with a thunder of many hoofs, and flocks of wild birds rose suddenly from the swampy meadows, wheeling in great circles with a shining flutter of innumerable wings and shrill cries of surprise.

He traversed the fertile fields of Concabar, where the dust from the threshing-floors filled the air with a golden mist, half hiding the huge temple of Astarte with its four hundred pillars.

At Baghistan, among the rich gardens watered by fountains from the rock, he looked up at the mountain thrusting its immense rugged brow out over the road, and saw the figure of King Darius trampling upon his fallen foes, and the proud list of his wars and conquests graven high upon the face of the eternal cliff.

Over many a cold and desolate pass, crawling painfully across the wind-swept shoulders of the hills; down many a black mountain-gorge, where the river roared and raced before him like a savage guide; across many a smiling vale, with terraces of yellow limestone full of vines and fruit-trees; through the oak-groves of Carine and the dark Gates of Zagros, walled in by precipices; into the ancient city of Chala, where the people of Samaria had been kept in captivity long ago; and out again by the mighty portal, riven through the encircling hills, where he saw the image of the High Priest of the Magi sculptured on the wall of rock, with hand uplifted as if to bless the centuries of pilgrims; past the entrance of the narrow defile, filled from end to end with orchards of peaches and figs, through which the river Gyndes foamed down to meet him; over the broad rice-fields, where the autumnal vapours spread their deathly mists; following along the course of the river, under tremulous shadows of poplar and tamarind, among the lower hills; and out upon the flat plain, where the road ran straight as an arrow through the stubble-fields and parched meadows; past the city of Ctesiphon, where the Parthian emperors reigned, and the vast metropolis of Seleucia which Alexander built; across the swirling floods of Tigris and the many channels of Euphrates, flowing yellow through the corn-lands-Artaban pressed onward until he arrived, at nightfall of the tenth day, beneath the shattered walls of populous Babylon.

Vasda was almost spent, and he would gladly have turned into the city to find rest and refreshment for himself and for her. But he knew that it was three hours' journey yet to the Temple of the Seven Spheres, and he must reach the place by midnight if he would find his comrades waiting. So he did not halt, but rode steadily across the stubble-fields.

A grove of date-palms made an island of gloom in the pale yellow sea. As she passed into the shadow Vasda slackened her pace, and began to pick her way more carefully.

Near the farther end of the darkness an access of caution seemed to fall upon her. She scented some danger or difficulty; it was not in her heart to fly from it-only to be prepared for it, and to meet it wisely, as a good horse should do. The grove was close and silent as the tomb; not a leaf rustled, not a bird sang.

She felt her steps before her delicately, carrying her head low, and sighing now and then with apprehension. At last she gave a quick breath of anxiety and dismay, and stood stock-still, quivering in every muscle, before a dark object in the shadow of the last palm-tree.

Artaban dismounted. The dim starlight revealed the form of a man lying across the road. His humble dress and the outline of his haggard face showed that he was probably one of the poor Hebrew exiles who still dwelt in great numbers in the vicinity. His pallid skin, dry and yellow as parchment, bore the mark of the deadly fever which ravaged the marsh-lands in autumn. The chill of death was in his lean hand, and, as Artaban released it, the arm fell back inertly upon the motionless breast.

He turned away with a thought of pity, consigning the body to that strange burial which the Magians deem most fitting-the funeral of the desert, from which the kites and vultures rise on dark wings, and the beasts of prey slink furtively away, leaving only a heap of white bones in the sand.

But, as he turned, a long, faint, ghostly sigh came from the man's lips. The brown, bony fingers closed convulsively on the hem of the Magian's robe and held him fast.

Artaban's heart leaped to his throat, not with fear, but with a dumb resentment at the importunity of this blind delay. How could he stay here in the darkness to minister to a dying stranger? What claim had this unknown fragment of human life upon his compassion or his service? If he lingered but for an hour he could hardly reach Borsippa at the appointed time. His companions would think he had given up the journey. They would go without him. He would lose his quest.

But if he went on now, the man would surely die. If he stayed, life might be restored. His spirit throbbed and fluttered with the urgency of the crisis. Should he risk the great reward of his divine faith for the sake of a single deed of human love? Should he turn aside, if only for a moment, from the following of the star, to give a cup of cold water to a poor, perishing Hebrew?

"God of truth and purity," he prayed, "direct me in the holy path, the way of wisdom which Thou only knowest."

Then he turned back to the sick man. Loosening the grasp of his hand, he carried him to a little mound at the foot of the palm-tree. He unbound the thick folds of the turban and opened the garment above the sunken breast. He brought water from one of the small canals near by, and moistened the sufferer's brow and mouth. He mingled a draught of one of those simple but potent remedies which he carried always in his girdle-for the Magians were physicians as well as astrologers-and poured it slowly between the colourless lips. Hour after hour he labored as only a skilful healer of disease can do; and, at last, the man's strength returned; he sat up and looked about him.

"Who art thou?" he said, in the rude dialect of the country, "and why hast thou sought me here to bring back my life?"

"I am Artaban the Magian, of the city of Ecbatana, and I am going to Jerusalem in search of one who is to be born King of the Jews, a great Prince and Deliverer for all men. I dare not delay any longer upon my journey, for the caravan that has waited for me may depart without me. But see, here is all that I have left of bread and wine, and here is a potion of healing herbs. When thy strength is restored thou can'st find the dwellings of the Hebrews among the houses of Babylon."

The Jew raised his trembling hands solemnly to heaven.

"Now may the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob bless and prosper the journey of the merciful, and bring him in peace to his desired haven. But stay; I have nothing to give thee in return-only this: that I can tell thee where the Messiah must be sought. For our prophets have said that he should be born not in Jerusalem, but in Bethlehem of Judah. May the Lord bring thee in safety to that place, because thou hast had pity upon the sick."

It was already long past midnight. Artaban rode in haste, and Vasda, restored by the brief rest, ran eagerly through the silent plain and swam the channels of the river. She put forth the remnant of her strength, and fled over the ground like a gazelle.

But the first beam of the sun sent her shadow before her as she entered upon the final stadium of the journey, and the eyes of Artaban anxiously scanning the great mound of Nimrod and the Temple of the Seven Spheres, could discern no trace of his friends.

The many-coloured terraces of black and orange and red and yellow and green and blue and white, shattered by the convulsions of nature, and crumbling under the repeated blows of human violence, still glittered like a ruined rainbow in the morning light.

Artaban rode swiftly around the hill. He dismounted and climbed to the highest terrace, looking out towards the west.

The huge desolation of the marshes stretched away to the horizon and the border of the desert. Bitterns stood by the stagnant pools and jackals skulked through the low bushes; but there was no sign of the caravan of the wise men, far or near.

At the edge of the terrace he saw a little cairn of broken bricks, and under them a piece of parchment. He caught it up and read: "We have waited past the midnight, and can delay no longer. We go to find the King. Follow us across the desert." Artaban sat down upon the ground and covered his head in despair.

"How can I cross the desert," said he, "with no food and with a spent horse? I must return to Babylon, sell my sapphire, and buy a train of camels, and provision for the journey. I may never overtake my friends. Only God the merciful knows whether I shall not lose the sight of the King because I tarried to show mercy."

FOR THE SAKE OF A LITTLE CHILD

There was a silence in the Hall of Dreams, where I was listening to the story of the other wise man. And through this silence I saw, but very dimly, his figure passing over the dreary undulations of the desert, high upon the back of his camel, rocking steadily onward like a ship over the waves.

The land of death spread its cruel net around him. The stony wastes bore no fruit but briers and thorns. The dark ledges of rock thrust themselves above the surface here and there, like the bones of perished monsters. Arid and inhospitable mountain ranges rose before him, furrowed with dry channels of ancient torrents, white and ghastly as scars on the face of nature. Shifting hills of treacherous sand were heaped like tombs along the horizon. By day, the fierce heat pressed its intolerable burden on the quivering air; and no living creature moved, on the dumb, swooning earth, but tiny jerboas scuttling through the parched bushes, or lizards vanishing in the clefts of the rock. By night the jackals prowled and barked in the distance, and the lion made the black ravines echo with his hollow roaring, while a bitter, blighting chill followed the fever of the day. Through heat and cold, the Magian moved steadily onward.

Then I saw the gardens and orchards of Damascus, watered by the streams of Abana and Pharpar, with their sloping swards inlaid with bloom, and their thickets of myrrh and roses. I saw also the long, snowy ridge of Hermon, and the dark groves of cedars, and the valley of the Jordan, and the blue waters of the Lake of Galilee, and the fertile plain of Esdraelon, and the hills of Ephraim, and the highlands of Judah. Through all these I followed the figure of Artaban moving steadily onward, until he arrived at Bethlehem. And it was the third day after the three wise men had come to that place and had found Mary and Joseph, with the young child, Jesus, and had laid their gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh at his feet.

Then the other wise man drew near, weary, but full of hope, bearing his ruby and his pearl to offer to the King. "For now at last," he said, "I shall surely find him, though it be alone, and later than my brethren. This is the place of which the Hebrew exile told me that the prophets had spoken, and here I shall behold the rising of the great light. But I must inquire about the visit of my brethren, and to what house the star directed them, and to whom they presented their tribute."

The streets of the village seemed to be deserted, and Artaban wondered whether the men had all gone up to the hill-pastures to bring down their sheep. From the open door of a low stone cottage he heard the sound of a woman's voice singing softly. He entered and found a young mother hushing her baby to rest. She told him of the strangers from the far East who had appeared in the village three days ago, and how they said that a star had guided them to the place where Joseph of Nazareth was lodging with his wife and her new-born child, and how they had paid reverence to the child and given him many rich gifts.

"But the travellers disappeared again," she continued, "as suddenly as they had come. We were afraid at the strangeness of their visit. We could not understand it. The man of Nazareth took the babe and his mother and fled away that same night secretly, and it was whispered that they were going far away to Egypt. Ever since, there has been a spell upon the village; something evil hangs over it. They say that the Roman soldiers are coming from Jerusalem to force a new tax from us, and the men have driven the flocks and herds far back among the hills, and hidden themselves to escape it."

Artaban listened to her gentle, timid speech, and the child in her arms looked up in his face and smiled, stretching out its rosy hands to grasp at the winged circle of gold on his breast. His heart warmed to the touch. It seemed like a greeting of love and trust to one who had journeyed long in loneliness and perplexity, fighting with his own doubts and fears, and following a light that was veiled in clouds.

"Might not this child have been the promised Prince?" he asked within himself, as he touched its soft cheek. "Kings have been born ere now in lowlier houses than this, and the favourite of the stars may rise even from a cottage. But it has not seemed good to the God of wisdom to reward my search so soon and so easily. The one whom I seek has gone before me; and now I must follow the King to Egypt."

The young mother laid the babe in its cradle, and rose to minister to the wants of the strange guest that fate had brought into her house. She set food before him, the plain fare of peasants, but willingly offered, and therefore full of refreshment for the soul as well as for the body. Artaban accepted it gratefully; and, as he ate, the child fell into a happy slumber, and murmured sweetly in its dreams, and a great peace filled the quiet room.

But suddenly there came the noise of a wild confusion and uproar in the streets of the village, a shrieking and wailing of women's voices, a clangor of brazen trumpets and a clashing of swords, and a desperate cry: "The soldiers! the soldiers of Herod! They are killing our children."

The young mother's face grew white with terror. She clasped her child to her bosom, and crouched motionless in the darkest corner of the room, covering him with the folds of her robe, lest he should wake and cry.

But Artaban went quickly and stood in the doorway of the house. His broad shoulders filled the portal from side to side, and the peak of his white cap all but touched the lintel.

The soldiers came hurrying down the street with bloody hands and dripping swords. At the sight of the stranger in his imposing dress they hesitated with surprise. The captain of the band approached the threshold to thrust him aside. But Artaban did not stir. His face was as calm as though he were watching the stars, and in his eyes there burned that steady radiance before which even the half-tamed hunting leopard shrinks, and the fierce bloodhound pauses in his leap. He held the soldier silently for an instant, and then said in a low voice:

"There is no one in this place but me, and I am waiting to give this jewel to the prudent captain who will leave me in peace."

He showed the ruby, glistening in the hollow of his hand like a great drop of blood.

The captain was amazed at the splendour of the gem. The pupils of his eyes expanded with desire, and the hard lines of greed wrinkled around his lips. He stretched out his hand and took the ruby.

"March on!" he cried to his men, "there is no child here. The house is still."

The clamour and the clang of arms passed down the street as the headlong fury of the chase sweeps by the secret covert where the trembling deer is hidden. Artaban re-entered the cottage. He turned his face to the east and prayed:

"God of truth, forgive my sin! I have said the thing that is not, to save the life of a child. And two of my gifts are gone. I have spent for man that which was meant for God. Shall I ever be worthy to see the face of the King?"

But the voice of the woman, weeping for joy in the shadow behind him, said very gently:

"Because thou hast saved the life of my little one, may the Lord bless thee and keep thee; the Lord make His face to shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace."

IN THE HIDDEN WAY OF SORROW

Then again there was a silence in the Hall of Dreams, deeper and more mysterious than the first interval, and I understood that the years of Artaban were flowing very swiftly under the stillness of that clinging fog, and I caught only a glimpse, here and there, of the river of his life shining through the shadows that concealed its course.

I saw him moving among the throngs of men in populous Egypt, seeking everywhere for traces of the household that had come down from Bethlehem, and finding them under the spreading sycamore-trees of Heliopolis, and beneath the walls of the Roman fortress of New Babylon beside the Nile-traces so faint and dim that they vanished before him continually, as footprints on the hard river-sand glisten for a moment with moisture and then disappear.

I saw him again at the foot of the pyramids, which lifted their sharp points into the intense saffron glow of the sunset sky, changeless monuments of the perishable glory and the imperishable hope of man. He looked up into the vast countenance of the crouching Sphinx and vainly tried to read the meaning of her calm eyes and smiling mouth. Was it, indeed, the mockery of all effort and all aspiration, as Tigranes had said-the cruel jest of a riddle that has no answer, a search that never can succeed? Or was there a touch of pity and encouragement in that inscrutable smile-a promise that even the defeated should attain a victory, and the disappointed should discover a prize, and the ignorant should be made wise, and the blind should see, and the wandering should come into the haven at last?

I saw him again in an obscure house of Alexandria, taking counsel with a Hebrew rabbi. The venerable man, bending over the rolls of parchment on which the prophecies of Israel were written, read aloud the pathetic words which foretold the sufferings of the promised Messiah-the despised and rejected of men, the man of sorrows and the acquaintance of grief.

"And remember, my son," said he, fixing his deep-set eyes upon the face of Artaban, "the King whom you are seeking is not to be found in a palace, nor among the rich and powerful. If the light of the world and the glory of Israel had been appointed to come with the greatness of earthly splendour, it must have appeared long ago. For no son of Abraham will ever again rival the power which Joseph had in the palaces of Egypt, or the magnificence of Solomon throned between the lions in Jerusalem. But the light for which the world is waiting is a new light, the glory that shall rise out of patient and triumphant suffering. And the kingdom which is to be established forever is a new kingdom, the royalty of perfect and unconquerable love. I do not know how this shall come to pass, nor how the turbulent kings and peoples of earth shall be brought to acknowledge the Messiah and pay homage to him. But this I know. Those who seek Him will do well to look among the poor and the lowly, the sorrowful and the oppressed."

So I saw the other wise man again and again, travelling from place to place, and searching among the people of the dispersion, with whom the little family from Bethlehem might, perhaps, have found a refuge. He passed through countries where famine lay heavy upon the land, and the poor were crying for bread. He made his dwelling in plague-stricken cities where the sick were languishing in the bitter companionship of helpless misery. He visited the oppressed and the afflicted in the gloom of subterranean prisons, and the crowded wretchedness of slave-markets, and the weary toil of galley-ships. In all this populous and intricate world of anguish, though he found none to worship, he found many to help. He fed the hungry, and clothed the naked, and healed the sick, and comforted the captive; and his years went by more swiftly than the weaver's shuttle that flashes back and forth through the loom while the web grows and the invisible pattern is completed.

It seemed almost as if he had forgotten his quest. But once I saw him for a moment as he stood alone at sunrise, waiting at the gate of a Roman prison. He had taken from a secret resting-place in his bosom the pearl, the last of his jewels. As he looked at it, a mellower lustre, a soft and iridescent light, full of shifting gleams of azure and rose, trembled upon its surface. It seemed to have absorbed some reflection of the colours of the lost sapphire and ruby. So the profound, secret purpose of a noble life draws into itself the memories of past joy and past sorrow. All that has helped it, all that has hindered it, is transfused by a subtle magic into its very essence. It becomes more luminous and precious the longer it is carried close to the warmth of the beating heart. Then, at last, while I was thinking of this pearl, and of its meaning, I heard the end of the story of the other wise man.

A PEARL OF GREAT PRICE

Three-and-thirty years of the life of Artaban had passed away, and he was still a pilgrim and a seeker after light. His hair, once darker than the cliffs of Zagros, was now white as the wintry snow that covered them. His eyes, that once flashed like flames of fire, were dull as embers smouldering among the ashes.

Worn and weary and ready to die, but still looking for the King, he had come for the last time to Jerusalem. He had often visited the holy city before, and had searched through all its lanes and crowded hovels and black prisons without finding any trace of the family of Nazarenes who had fled from Bethlehem long ago. But now it seemed as if he must make one more effort, and something whispered in his heart that, at last, he might succeed. It was the season of the Passover. The city was thronged with strangers. The children of Israel, scattered in far lands all over the world, had returned to the Temple for the great feast, and there had been a confusion of tongues in the narrow streets for many days.

But on this day there was a singular agitation visible in the multitude. The sky was veiled with a portentous gloom, and currents of excitement seemed to flash through the crowd like the thrill which shakes the forest on the eve of a storm. A secret tide was sweeping them all one way. The clatter of sandals, and the soft, thick sound of thousands of bare feet shuffling over the stones, flowed unceasingly along the street that leads to the Damascus gate.

Artaban joined company with a group of people from his own country, Parthian Jews who had come up to keep the Passover, and inquired of them the cause of the tumult, and where they were going.

"We are going," they answered, "to the place called Golgotha, outside the city walls, where there is to be an execution. Have you not heard what has happened? Two famous robbers are to be crucified, and with them another, called Jesus of Nazareth, a man who has done many wonderful works among the people, so that they love him greatly. But the priests and elders have said that he must die, because he gave himself out to be the Son of God. And Pilate has sent him to the cross because he said that he was the 'King of the Jews.'"

How strangely these familiar words fell upon the tired heart of Artaban! They had led him for a lifetime over land and sea. And now they came to him darkly and mysteriously like a message of despair. The King had arisen, but he had been denied and cast out. He was about to perish. Perhaps he was already dying. Could it be the same who had been born in Bethlehem, thirty-three years ago, at whose birth the star had appeared in heaven, and of whose coming the prophets had spoken?

Artaban's heart beat unsteadily with that troubled, doubtful apprehension which is the excitement of old age. But he said within himself, "The ways of God are stranger than the thoughts of men, and it may be that I shall find the King, at last, in the hands of His enemies, and shall come in time to offer my pearl for His ransom before He dies."

So the old man followed the multitude with slow and painful steps towards the Damascus gate of the city. Just beyond the entrance of the guard-house a troop of Macedonian soldiers came down the street, dragging a young girl with torn dress and dishevelled hair. As the Magian paused to look at her with compassion, she broke suddenly from the hands of her tormentors, and threw herself at his feet, clasping him around the knees. She had seen his white cap and the winged circle on his breast.

"Have pity on me," she cried, "and save me, for the sake of the God of Purity! I also am a daughter of the true religion which is taught by the Magi. My father was a merchant of Parthia, but he is dead, and I am seized for his debts to be sold as a slave. Save me from worse than death!"

Artaban trembled.

It was the old conflict in his soul, which had come to him in the palm-grove of Babylon and in the cottage at Bethlehem-the conflict between the expectation of faith and the impulse of love. Twice the gift which he had consecrated to the worship of religion had been drawn from his hand to the service of humanity. This was the third trial, the ultimate probation, the final and irrevocable choice.

Was it his great opportunity, or his last temptation? He could not tell. One thing only was clear in the darkness of his mind-it was inevitable. And does not the inevitable come from God?

One thing only was sure to his divided heart-to rescue this helpless girl would be a true deed of love. And is not love the light of the soul?

He took the pearl from his bosom. Never had it seemed so luminous, so radiant, so full of tender, living lustre. He laid it in the hand of the slave.

"This is thy ransom, daughter! It is the last of my treasures which I kept for the King."

While he spoke the darkness of the sky thickened, and shuddering tremors ran through the earth, heaving convulsively like the breast of one who struggles with mighty grief.

The walls of the houses rocked to and fro. Stones were loosened and crashed into the street. Dust clouds filled the air. The soldiers fled in terror, reeling like drunken men. But Artaban and the girl whom he had ransomed crouched helpless beneath the wall of the Praetorium.

What had he to fear? What had he to live for? He had given away the last remnant of his tribute for the King. He had parted with the last hope of finding Him. The quest was over, and it had failed. But, even in that thought, accepted and embraced, there was peace. It was not resignation. It was not submission. It was something more profound and searching. He knew that all was well, because he had done the best that he could, from day to day. He had been true to the light that had been given to him. He had looked for more. And if he had not found it, if a failure was all that came out of his life, doubtless that was the best that was possible. He had not seen the revelation of "life everlasting, incorruptible and immortal." But he knew that even if he could live his earthly life over again, it could not be otherwise than it had been.

One more lingering pulsation of the earthquake quivered through the ground. A heavy tile, shaken from the roof, fell and struck the old man on the temple. He lay breathless and pale, with his gray head resting on the young girl's shoulder, and the blood trickling from the wound. As she bent over him, fearing that he was dead, there came a voice through the twilight, very small and still, like music sounding from a distance, in which the notes are clear but the words are lost. The girl turned to see if some one had spoken from the window above them, but she saw no one.

Then the old man's lips began to move, as if in answer, and she heard him say in the Parthian tongue:

"Not so, my Lord! For when saw I thee an hungered, and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw I thee a stranger, and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee? When saw I thee sick or in prison, and came unto thee? Three-and-thirty years have I looked for thee; but I have never seen thy face, nor ministered to thee, my King."

He ceased, and the sweet voice came again. And again the maid heard it, very faintly and far away. But now it seemed as though she understood the words:

" Verily I say unto thee, inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me."

A calm radiance of wonder and joy lighted the pale face of Artaban like the first ray of dawn on a snowy mountain-peak. One long, last breath of relief exhaled gently from his lips.

His journey was ended. His treasures were accepted. The other Wise Man had found the King.

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E-text prepared by Margaret Macaskill, David Garcia, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team Editorial note: While the original illustrations are listed, none are included in this e-book. There are several editions of this ebook in the Project Gutenberg collection.

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December 23rd - review of a christmas  film

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December 23rd - review of a christmas  film

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A Charlie Brown Christmas was the first Peanuts special, capitalizing on the popularity of the comic strip in 1965. By this point, Charles Schulz's Peanuts had been running for 15 years with the same basic premise: here are some children, one of them has a dog. Not much happens in a typical Peanuts plot. The larger world of the children barely exists.

The appeal of Peanuts was, and still is, in simply being with these children and understanding their rhythms. As Umberto Eco wrote in the New York Review of Books in 1985, "over this basic scheme" of watching children and a dog go about daily life, "there is a steady flow of variations, following a rhythm ... thus you could never grasp the poetic power of Schulz's work by reading only one or two or ten episodes: you must thoroughly understand the characters and the situations, for the grace, tenderness, and laughter are born only from the infinitely shifting repetition of the patterns, and from fidelity to the fundamental inspirations."

A daily cartoon strip turned out to be the perfect medium for infinitely shifting repetition. The first ongoing Peanuts gag is perhaps its most famous: Charlie Brown missing the football every Fall season. While its first iteration wasn't a trick, it soon became a routine: Lucy van Pelt holds out a football for Charlie Brown and comes up with some excuse to convince him to kick it. Charlie Brown comes to believe her excuse, and decides to approach kicking the football with all his might. As he prepares for a mighty kick, Lucy pulls away and Charlie Brown goes flying into the air, tricked again.

As Sarah Boxer has noted in The Atlantic, Lucy was, for Schulz, "in essence, society itself." She was manipulative, cruel, and seemed more interested in transactional help, as seen in her psychiatric booth where she'll see any patient "who has a problem and a nickel." Described in a jokey essay published in the medical journal The Lancet as the "best-known psychiatrist of the 20th century," Lucy's advice is at times more concerned with getting five cents than any actual help.

That's how things start in A Charlie Brown Christmas. Charlie Brown is depressed, even though it's Christmastime. After failing to knock a can down with snowballs, he goes to Lucy's booth and drops in a nickel. Before she helps him out, she rattles around her can and proclaims how much she loves the sound of nickels rattling around. But eventually she sets Charlie Brown on a path: he needs an activity. And, lucky enough, her Christmas play needs a director.

Before airing on CBS, both animator Bill Melendez and network executives were worried about several aspects of A Charlie Brown Christmas. Everyone thought it was too slow, the plot seemed threadbare, the music didn't seem to match the setting, the animation was stilted, and the children's voices sounded like amateurs.

All of these critiques are more or less true. The show is disjointed, loosely centered around Charlie Brown discovering the meaning of Christmas. Snoopy thinks it's decorating his doghouse, Lucy thinks it's about getting a big shiny aluminum tree she can paint pink. But the true meaning of Christmas is uttered very straightforwardly by Linus: Christmas is about the birth of Jesus, as described in the Book of Luke.

Yet the special's stilted nature simply adds to the charm half a century later. Perhaps the fact that there were only three TV channels when A Charlie Brown Christmas first aired helped solidify it as a classic. But even today, as one Apple TV Plus' exclusives, and in a sea of family-friendly content, it stands out. The children sound like real children. They spend time doing nothing in worlds of their own creation, like real children. And like real children, they get sad.

There's also Vince Guaraldi Trio's soundtrack, which has a richness that carries the special. The haunting vocals of "Christmas Time is Here" let the viewer into Charlie Brown's head as we watch the children skate (Pig Pen's dust clouds following him on the ice is a wonderful touch), and on the flip-side, the bubbling optimism of "Linus and Lucy" seems to encourage warmth and camaraderie.

Like individual panels in a strip, A Charlie Brown Christmas is all about tiny moments. The children dancing when they should be rehearsing. The suave style of the aluminum Christmas tree lot (an actual fad during the Sixties which this special helped kill). Charlie Brown abandoning his sad, little tree after an ornament makes it droop over, and the rest of the gang getting together and fixing it.

Linus is right, Charlie Brown decides at the end: Christmas is about the birth of Jesus. Yet he doesn't make his way to a church. Rather, he sees that his friends, cruel and irresponsible as they can be, have found something broken and given it the love that it needs to flourish. That kind of earnestness can cut across any culture, any moment in time, and any viewer.
A Charlie Brown Christmas is available to stream on Apple TV Plus.

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A Charlie Brown Christmas was the first Peanuts special, capitalizing on the popularity of the comic strip in 1965. By this point, Charles Schulz's Peanuts had been running for 15 years with the same basic premise: here are some children, one of them has a dog. Not much happens in a typical Peanuts plot.

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In 2016, IWM was contacted by the family of one of the soldiers shown in this photograph. We now know that this is Arno Bohm, a German soldier, standing alongside British troops from the London Rifle Brigade. They're standing together in the middle of no man's land during the Christmas truce of 1914. This photograph captures a moment so unusual in the First World War that many people at the time, and to this day, believed it to be a myth.

In the midst of a brutal total war, how did this momentary peace come about,what impact did it have in the course of the First World War and why did it never happen again?

Marmaduke Walkinton: "We were in the front line. We were about 300 yards from the Germans and we had I think on Christmas Eve, we'd been singing carols and this that and the other, and the Germans had been doing the same, and we'd been shouting to each other, sometimes rude remarks, more often just joking remarks.

Eventually a German said, 'Tomorrow you no shoot, we no shoot'."

At the start of the war many believed it would all be over by Christmas. However, by December that year it was obvious that this was not the case, and thousands of families and soldiers were facing a Christmas of separation, grief and hardship.

Anthony Richards: "So for those soldiers who are in the trenches over winter 1914, the conditions would have got gradually worse and worse. You got a lot of rain; a lot of frost and the general living conditions would have been terrible."

But the British troops were not alone. In the trenches opposite theirs, sometimes only 30 yards away across the strip of no man's land, were German soldiers in the exact same situation.

Anthony Richards: "There was lots of opportunity for each side to communicate with the other, and this was a regular thing which happened right from the start of trench warfare. But communication would often be in the form of soldiers from one side shouting over insults to those in the other trenches. But what was interesting at Christmas is that both sides actually started to communicate in more friendly terms. It really began with the Germans singing Christmas carols and setting up Christmas trees on top of their parapets. And so, they came to very much empathise with one another."

Mr Rickner: "I remember very well Christmas. I remember the Christmas Day when the German and the French soldiers left their trenches, went to the barbed wire between them with champagne and cigarettes in their hands and had feelings of fraternisation and shouted they wanted to finish the war. And that lasted only two days - one and a half really - and then strict order came that no fraternisation was allowed, and we had to stay back in our trenches."

The Christmas truce varied in different parts of the front line. Ceasefires were hastily arranged, sometimes to enable the collection and burial of bodies or to allow the trenches to be repaired, in other cases the soldiers simply enjoyed fraternising with the other side.

Ernie Williams: "And we shared fags and goodies with the Germans, and then from somewhere, somehow this football appeared."

Interviewer: "Was it a proper football?"

Ernie Williams: "It was a proper football. But we didn't form a team, it wasn't a team game in any sense of the word. You know it was a kickabout. Everybody was having a go. It came from their side; it wasn't from our side where the ball came."

Interviewer: "How many people were taking part do you think?"

Ernie Williams: "Well I should think there'd be at least a couple of hundred."

Interviewer: "Did you kick the ball?"

Ernie Williams: "Oh yes I had to go at it, I was pretty good then, at 19."

But while some parts of the front line were playing football and swapping stories, others were confused by what they heard or felt no inclination to socialise with those they had so recently been fighting.

Clifford Lane: "After a few moments, there were lighted objects raised above the German parapets. The Germans were shouting over to our trench, there's no doubt about that at all, and before we could take any action or do anything, we were ordered to open rapid fire you see, which we did. The Germans did not reply to our rapid fire, they simply carried on with their celebrations and were having a very fine time indeed. They certainly were not going to do it anymore; they thought that we were idiots I suppose, which we were. Not us but the command, you see."

Anthony Richards: "The way that trench warfare was organised in the First World War, each sector was very distinctive and so you wouldn't necessarily know what was happening in the sector next door to you, and you do get stories of one area of the front where they're experiencing a truce but then suddenly they get fired on by the troops in the next sector who don't realise what's happening."

For those soldiers not involved, the truce must have seemed unbelievable, and even more so for those back home. For months the media and government propaganda had shaped the perception of German soldiers as bloodthirsty enemies, baby eaters, devils, ruthless killers. But news of the remarkable Christmas truce soon spread aboard. By the end of December, letters and photos arrived home and newspapers began to publish accounts of the truce.

John Wedderburn-Maxwell: "My father was delighted to have a letter giving such a description of events and he sent it or sent them up to the Daily Telegraph. I got into frightful rocket; it showed up that it must have been me who wrote it and he got hold of me gave me an awful dressing down for daring to write to the press, but of course I didn't, my old man wrote to the press!"

These photographs were taken on personal cameras that some soldiers had taken with them into the trenches. Photography in the trenches was discouraged for obvious reasons but during the Christmas Truce of 1914, soldiers on both sides of the trenches could not resist the opportunity to document such a unique event.

Anthony Richards: "At the beginning of January 1915, the newspapers suddenly start printing these letters and to begin with there was a certain amount of disbelief but then over time suddenly photographs started to appear as well, and by that time the evidence was clear that this did happen it wasn't a myth, and the media at the time absolutely loved it. There were lots of discussions in the newspapers about whether this was a good thing, or a bad thing and you know in a way it's a wonderful snapshot of Christmas 1914 when attitudes were still slightly naïve because the war had only really just begun. You find that in 1915 and onwards the war becomes almost a much more serious endeavour."

The Christmas truce would come to be remembered as something of a blip in the regular conduct of the war. It conflicted with the patriotic aggression required by both sides. It also served to highlight the great contrast between war and religion: how can you fight a war of aggression while also celebrating Christmas, the traditional time for peace and goodwill? For those reasons the Christmas truce was increasingly seen as unimportant and awkward to fit into the standard narrative of the First World War.

Anthony Richards: "You never get anything like the Christmas truce happening again, and over time not only is it seen as an anomaly but almost as a myth, and it gets to the point where people are actually doubting whether it happened in the first place, which continues right up to this day. So, there's still a lot of confusion about whether there was a football match played and things like this."

Harold Lewis: "We didn't cross to France until March of 1915 but although it would be arrogant to say that the thing didn't actually take place I very much doubt whether anything of the nature or magnitude that had been claimed for it took place at all. Now the purpose of that barbed wire and the trenches was to keep each side in its own place therefore why would anybody try to break that and if anybody tried what are the NCOs doing? What were the officers doing? I think the whole thing borders on the fairy tale and may be classed with the Russians with snow on their boots and the Angels of Mons."

Anthony Richards: "We know by looking at German newspapers that the Christmas truce was covered there in a very similar way to how it was in Britain. In the 1920s and the 1930s you see definite examples of how the Christmas truce changes in its depiction because there was a much greater emphasis then on the German soldier as a hero fighting a noble war, whereas the Christmas truce conflicts with that to a degree. So, in Germany in particular the Christmas truce goes out of favour definitely in the 20s and 30s, whereas in Britain it continues to be a popular celebrated story as part of the First World War."

The letters and photographs that reached home in Britain confirmed that this remarkable event had indeed taken place but it was one that was not to be repeated.

Anthony Richards: "The Christmas truce was unique and nothing like it happened again to that scale, and the reasons for this are varied. Immediately after the truce, the high command of both sides stepped in to make sure that fraternisation and ceasefires like this would not happen in the same way. But also, in the long term the real reason the truth is like this didn't happen is that the war changed the way in which it was being fought. As the war progressed there's a more centralised method of command: those in the front line would have been forced into constant aggression, you would have had artillery and trench mortar units constantly going. And also of course as the war progressed it took a far nastier turn, so you get things like gas warfare introduced, an increasing number of civilian casualties. You also get incidents like sinking of the Lusitania. The temptation I suppose to empathise with the enemy and the desire to fraternise with them changed dramatically from 1915 onwards."

It can be argued that the Christmas truce made little difference to the course of the First World War, but it would be remembered as a crucial moment in history. The truce has featured in films, television programs, inspired songs, and even featured in adverts. It's become part of the symbolism used when discussing the First World War, as synonymous with that conflict as poppies, mud and war poets. This unique event has become legendary, in part because the idea of peace at Christmas in such an unlikely place is an irresistible story. But its enduring legacy is also due to these incredible photographs and the interviews from those who were there, documenting an event that to so many still seems wholly unbelievable.

Thanks for watching. Don't forget to hit the button to subscribe to IWM's YouTube channel for more videos like this and much more.

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The Christmas Truce has become one of the most famous and mythologised events of the First World War. But what was the real story behind the truce? Why did it happen and did British and German soldiers really play football in no-man's land?

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December 23 - Review of a Christmas film

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December 23 - Review of a Christmas film

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The movie's screenplay is by John Hughes, who sometimes shows a genius for remembering what it was like to be young. His best movies, such as " Sixteen Candles," " The Breakfast Club," " Ferris Bueller's Day Off" and " Planes, Trains and Automobiles," find a way to be funny while still staying somewhere within the boundaries of remote plausibility. This time, he strays so far from his premise that the movie suffers.

If "Home Alone" had limited itself to the things that might possibly happen to a forgotten 8-year-old, I think I would have liked it more. What I didn't enjoy was the subplot involving the burglars ( Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern), who are immediately spotted by little Kevin (Macaulay Culkin), and made the targets of his cleverness.

The movie opens in the Chicago suburbs with a houseful of people on the eve of a big family Christmas vacation in Paris. There are relatives and kids everywhere, and when the family oversleeps and has to race to the airport, Kevin is somehow overlooked in the shuffle. When he wakes up later that morning, the house is empty. So he makes the best of it.

A real kid would probably be more frightened than this movie character, and would probably cry. He might also try calling someone, or asking a neighbor for help. But in the contrived world of this movie, the only neighbor is an old coot who is rumored to be the Snow Shovel Murderer, and the phone doesn't work. When Kevin's parents discover they've forgotten him, they find it impossible to get anyone to follow through on their panicked calls - if anyone did so, the movie would be over.

The plot is so implausible that it makes it hard for us to really care about the plight of the kid. What works in the other direction, however, and almost carries the day, is the gifted performance by young Macaulay Culkin, as Kevin. Culkin is the little boy who co-starred with John Candy in " Uncle Buck," and here he has to carry almost the whole movie. He has lots of challenging acting scenes, and he's up to them. I'm sure he got lots of help from director Chris Columbus, but he's got the stuff to begin with. He's such a confident and gifted little actor that I'd like to see him in a story I could care more about.

"Home Alone" isn't that story. When the burglars invade Kevin's home, they find themselves running a gamut of booby traps so elaborate they could have been concocted by Rube Goldberg - or by the berserk father in " Last House on the Left." Because all plausibility is gone, we sit back, detached, to watch stunt men and special effects guys take over a movie that promised to be the kind of story audiences could identify with.

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Home Alone movie review & film summary (1990) | Roger Ebert

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"Home Alone" is a splendid movie title because it evokes all sorts of scary nostalgia. Being left home alone, when you were a kid, meant hearing strange noises and being afraid to look in the basement - but it also meant doing all the things that grownups would tell you to stop doing, if they were there.

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Fun Kids - the UK's children's radio station

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Top 10 Facts About Christmas! - Fun Kids - the UK’s children’s radio station

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Keep track of all the music you listen to and grow your passion for music with friends. Write reviews, rate albums, and compile lists in music’s fastest growing community.

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Read these classic Christmas short stories to get in a festive mood for the holiday season! You'll find some of the best and most famous Christmas short stories by authors like L. M. Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott, and Charles Dickens. And the best part is, you can read these Christmas stories for free!

20 Free Classic Christmas Stories

The most classic Christmas story can be found in the books of Mathew and Luke, from the Bible. Between them, the first few chapters of these books cover the birth of Jesus, and the familiar stories of the angels, shepherds, and wise men that we see depicted in Christmas pageants and ornaments and nativity scenes today.

Since that first Christmas story from 2,000 years ago, the holiday season has grown up with hundreds of Christmas stories both religious and secular that reflect what the season means to us. I had so much fun rounding up a few of these Christmas stories from famous authors for you to enjoy here!

Some of the authors on this list might surprise you, as they did me. Did you know that L. Frank Baum-author of The Wizard of Oz-wrote a Christmas fantasy story about Santa Claus getting kidnapped by daemons? Or that Washington Irving-the man known for his Halloween tale "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"-also wrote Christmas stories that would serve as inspiration for A Christmas Carol?

There's also a range of "takes" on Christmas in these stories: from traditional Christmas stories to fantastical, funny and humorous to serious or sweet. And I've included New Year's stories as well, since Christmas was historically seen as a twelve-day period, beginning on December 25th and ending on January 5th, or Twelfth Night. You can read these Christmas stories online for free, print them out, or download them for free to your e-reader. Some include illustrations as well! If you prefer to listen to these Christmas stories, you'll also find a link to the audio version, if available.

Treat yourself to some fireside reading and capture the holiday spirit with a bit of old-fashioned storytelling from Christmas past.

20 Classic Christmas Short Stories You Can Read Online for Free

7. "A Kidnapped Santa Claus" by L. Frank Baum

In this fantasy Christmas tale by the author of The Wizard of Oz, Santa lives in a castle in the Laughing Valley. Santa has helpers, but he also has enemies, and on Christmas Eve he's lassoed out of his sleigh by five daemons. This short story is a follow-up to Baum's longer novel, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus.
Read it here | Listen here

9. "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle"by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

10. "The Burglar's Christmas"by Willa Cather

Written under the pen name Elizabeth L. Seymour, Cather's story is a retelling of the prodigal son parable, set in Chicago on Christmas Eve. Cather started out as a writer of poetry and short stories; she published "The Burglar's Christmas" when she was 23, a good 15 years before her first novel.
Read it here

15. "A Letter From Santa Claus" by Mark Twain

This sweet, simple letter was written by Twain to his 3-year-old daughter. If you've ever had a parent or relative play Santa-perhaps even write you letters as Santa-it's delightful to think of Twain as a parent carrying out this tradition a hundred years ago.
Read it here

16. "Old Christmas" by Washington Irving

Charles Dickens gets a lot of credit for "inventing" modern-day Christmas. But every author draws their inspiration from somewhere, and Dickens got a lot of his from Washington Irving. Irving's Christmas sketches describe a jolly, feast-filled holiday in Yorkshire at the estate of Squire Bracebridge, a precursor to Fezziwig's party in A Christmas Carol.
Read it here | Listen here

19. "A Country Christmas" by Louisa May Alcott

Alcott wrote so many Christmas stories that I couldn't resist sharing another one. In this story, city girls Sophie and Emily opt for a more "rustic" Christmas when they go to visit Sophie's cousins in Vermont. While Alcott's "A Christmas Dream" is written for a young audience, this one for older readers, more along the lines of Little Women.
Read it here

20. "Where Love Is, There God Is Also" by Leo Tolstoy

With its themes of love and generosity, Tolstoy's wintry tale is a fitting read for Christmas. It tells the story of Martuin the cobbler, a man wearied by sorrow who ultimately finds hope and purpose.
Read it here

What would you add to this Christmas stories list? What are your favourite inspirational, funny, or heartwarming Christmas stories to read during the holidays? Please share!

More Christmas posts at Tea and Ink Society:

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Read these classic Christmas short stories to get in a festive mood for the holiday season! You'll find some of the best and most famous Christmas short stories by authors like L. M. Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott, and Charles Dickens. And the best part is, you can read these Christmas stories for free!

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BBC iPlayer - BBC One Guide - Thu May 12 2022

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Browse the TV Guide for programmes from the BBC.

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Crystal Palace's manager, Patrick Vieira, believes the Aston Villa goalkeeper Emiliano Martínez's "stupid" celebrations have taken some of the sheen off Argentina's World Cup win.

Martínez was instrumental in Argentina's penalty shootout victory over France last Sunday, but he has raised eyebrows with some of his actions afterwards.

He appeared to make a vulgar gesture with his Golden Glove award at the trophy presentation and has also repeatedly derided France striker Kylian Mbappé, who scored a hat-trick in the Lusail showpiece.

Vieira, a World Cup winner with France in 1998, said: "Some of the pictures I saw from the Argentinian goalkeeper, I think, take away a little bit what Argentina achieved at the World Cup.

"I don't think they really needed that. You can't control sometimes people's emotional decisions. But that was a stupid decision, I think, from Martínez to do that."

Argentina claimed their third global title, with Martínez saving Kingsley Coman's penalty in the 4-2 shootout victory after a pulsating final had finished 3-3.

In the dressing room afterwards, Martínez called for a minute's silence for Mbappé and received further criticism for celebrations in Buenos Aires when he held aloft a doll bearing the Frenchman's face.

Martínez will return to the Midlands next week, with Villa's manager, Unai Emery, intending to have a discussion with the 30-year-old about some of his controversial antics.

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Vieira claims Martínez's 'stupid' World Cup celebrations spoiled triumph

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Crystal Palace's manager, Patrick Vieira, believes the Aston Villa goalkeeper Emiliano Martínez's "stupid" celebrations have taken some of the sheen off Argentina's World Cup win. Martínez was instrumental in Argentina's penalty shootout victory over France last Sunday, but he has raised eyebrows with some of his actions afterwards.

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Day 16 - read about your favourite celebrity online 

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Day 16 - read about your favourite celebrity online 

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by Clement Clark Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winters nap

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow

Gave the luster of midday to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet, on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew,

With a sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all covered with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly

Than shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to work

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

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A Visit From St. Nicholas by Clement Clark Moore 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

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It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. Of course when she had left her house she'd had slippers on, but what good had they been? They were very big slippers, way too big for her, for they belonged to her mother. The little girl had lost them running across the road, where two carriages had rattled by terribly fast. One slipper she'd not been able to find again, and a boy had run off with the other, saying he could use it very well as a cradle some day when he had children of his own. And so the little girl walked on her naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried several packages of matches, and she held a box of them in her hand. No one had bought any from her all day long, and no one had given her a cent.

Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along, a picture of misery, poor little girl! The snowflakes fell on her long fair hair, which hung in pretty curls over her neck. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was a wonderful smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's eve. Yes, she thought of that!

In a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected farther out into the street than the other, she sat down and drew up her little feet under her. She was getting colder and colder, but did not dare to go home, for she had sold no matches, nor earned a single cent, and her father would surely beat her. Besides, it was cold at home, for they had nothing over them but a roof through which the wind whistled even though the biggest cracks had been stuffed with straw and rags.

Her hands were almost dead with cold. Oh, how much one little match might warm her! If she could only take one from the box and rub it against the wall and warm her hands. She drew one out. R-r-ratch! How it sputtered and burned! It made a warm, bright flame, like a little candle, as she held her hands over it; but it gave a strange light! It really seemed to the little girl as if she were sitting before a great iron stove with shining brass knobs and a brass cover. How wonderfully the fire burned! How comfortable it was! The youngster stretched out her feet to warm them too; then the little flame went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the burnt match in her hand.

She struck another match against the wall. It burned brightly, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a thin veil, and she could see through it into a room. On the table a snow-white cloth was spread, and on it stood a shining dinner service. The roast goose steamed gloriously, stuffed with apples and prunes. And what was still better, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled along the floor with a knife and fork in its breast, right over to the little girl. Then the match went out, and she could see only the thick, cold wall. She lighted another match. Then she was sitting under the most beautiful Christmas tree. It was much larger and much more beautiful than the one she had seen last Christmas through the glass door at the rich merchant's home. Thousands of candles burned on the green branches, and colored pictures like those in the printshops looked down at her. The little girl reached both her hands toward them. Then the match went out. But the Christmas lights mounted higher. She saw them now as bright stars in the sky. One of them fell down, forming a long line of fire.

"Now someone is dying," thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star fell down a soul went up to God.

She rubbed another match against the wall. It became bright again, and in the glow the old grandmother stood clear and shining, kind and lovely.

"Grandmother!" cried the child. "Oh, take me with you! I know you will disappear when the match is burned out. You will vanish like the warm stove, the wonderful roast goose and the beautiful big Christmas tree!"

And she quickly struck the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother with her. And the matches burned with such a glow that it became brighter than daylight. Grandmother had never been so grand and beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and both of them flew in brightness and joy above the earth, very, very high, and up there was neither cold, nor hunger, nor fear-they were with God.

But in the corner, leaning against the wall, sat the little girl with red cheeks and smiling mouth, frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. The New Year's sun rose upon a little pathetic figure. The child sat there, stiff and cold, holding the matches, of which one bundle was almost burned.

"She wanted to warm herself," the people said. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, and how happily she had gone with her old grandmother into the bright New Year.

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Hans Christian Andersen : The Little Match Girl

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It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In the cold and gloom a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was walking through the streets. Of course when she had left her house she'd had slippers on, but what good had they been?

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HOME ALONE is the story of 8-year-old Kevin ( Macaulay Culkin), a mischievous middle child who feels largely ignored by his large extended family. While preparing for a Christmas vacation in Paris, Kevin gets in trouble, is banished to the attic overnight, and wishes his family would just disappear. Kevin gets his wish the next morning when his family mistakenly leaves him behind. At first, Kevin is elated -- but pretty soon he realizes that being home alone isn't all it's cracked up to be. He misses his mom (who employs any and every means of getting home to her son) and even his bully brother. With all the block's other families on vacation, too, Kevin has no one to turn to, including the cops, who assume he's up to his usual tricks. Meanwhile, a pair of bumbling burglars played by Joe Pesci ( Goodfellas, Lethal Weapon 2-4) and Daniel Stern takes advantage of the situation by pillaging the neighborhood. It's up to Kevin to defend his home, using every prank in his well-stocked arsenal. A bevy of violent, slapstick, wince-inducing episodes ensues, resulting in Kevin successfully foiling the bad guys' plans.

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Skip to Content We think this movie stands out for: The parents' guide to what's in this movie. HOME ALONE is the story of 8-year-old Kevin ( Macaulay Culkin), a mischievous middle child who feels largely ignored by his large extended family.

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December 21-interesting  facts about Christmas 

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December 21-interesting  facts about Christmas 

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Every year on December 25, people celebrate Christmas. The event commemorates the birth of Jesus Christ on his birthday. In Christian mythology, Jesus Christ is revered as God's Messiah. As a result, among Christians, his birthday is one of the most joyous occasions. Although the event is mostly observed by Christians, it is one of the most widely observed festivals worldwide. Christmas is a time of joy and love. Everyone, regardless of their religious affiliation, celebrates it with zest and enthusiasm. Christmas is a cultural and traditional holiday. The festival necessitates extensive planning. For the most part, Christmas preparations begin early. Christmas preparations entail a variety of tasks, including the purchase of decorations, food, and gifts for family and friends.

On Christmas Day, most people wear white or red-colored clothing. The Christmas season, which begins with Thanksgiving, brings joy and festivity to everyone's lives. Thanksgiving is a day when people praise God for providing them with a plentiful harvest and express gratitude for all the good things and people in their lives. People greet each other a Merry Christmas and pray that the holiday removes all negativity and evil from their lives. For Christians, Christmas is the most important holiday. It instils a positive attitude in people all around the world. Traditional Christians treasure this occasion. It has gained widespread acceptance among all people, regardless of faith or community. It's the time of year when families gather together and prepare lovely meals for one another. The Christmas tree is a major centre of interest during the holiday season. People adorn Christmas trees with bells, balls, glitter, and stars and place them in their homes. It's all about baking lovely cakes and sharing them with the people you care about.

The most enjoyable Christmas activity is decorating the Christmas tree. It can be done by adorning the Christmas tree with lovely trinkets, bells, and ornaments. People exchange gifts, and many parents tell their children that Santa Claus, the fictitious Santa Claus, sends them gifts every year. Children are taught to share and be compassionate to others by assisting one another when they are in need. Christmas being one of our favourite times, we get to listen to many stories about it, so here is a list of some of the interesting facts about Christmas-

Christmas commemorates the birth of Jesus Christ, but the precise date has been lost to history. The Bible makes no mention of December 25, and many historians believe Jesus was born in the spring. According to some historians, the date was chosen because it coincided with the pagan celebration of Saturnalia, which celebrated and gave gifts to the agricultural deity Saturn.

2. TERM 'XMAS' -

The term 'Christmas' was first used in the 16th century. The letter 'X' in the word Xmas stems from ancient Greek. Christ begins with the letter X in Greek. As a result, Xmas stands for Christmas.

3. GREENERY CHRISTMAS-

The tradition of decorating Christmas trees dates back to the ancient Egyptians and Romans, who used evergreens to symbolise the return of spring on the winter solstice. You're commemorating history if you decorate your halls with a green tree, wreaths, or evergreen garland.

4. DUTCH SANTA CLAUS-

St. Nicholas is the inspiration for Santa Claus. St. Nicholas, according to legend, was a Christian bishop who helped the destitute and needy. He also adored youngsters and enjoyed surreptitiously giving them gifts. As word of his storey spread, he was dubbed Sinterklaas, which became Santa Claus.

5. SANTA CLAUS RED DRESS-

Santa Claus used to dress in green, purple, or blue clothing. This was a recurring topic for the jolly old man at the North Pole for many years. Coca-Cola, on the other hand, opted to clothe him in colours that matched their brand, and this stuck.

6. SNACKS FOR SANTA-

Thank the Dutch if your children leave Santa a small food to keep him occupied on your travels. On the feast day of St. Nicholas, December 6, Dutch children offer him food and drink to be traded for gifts the next day.

7. SANTA'S REINDEER-

Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer who pulls Santa's sledges on Christmas Eve, is certainly familiar to you and your children. Rudolph couldn't possibly pull Santa's sled by himself. It's brimming with gifts for every nice youngster on the planet, and Rudolph can't do it all by himself. Santa's ninth reindeer is Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer. He is aided by an additional eight reindeer. Cupid, Dancer, Vixen, Dunder, Comet, Dasher, Prancer, and Blixem are the eight reindeer.

8. MISTLETOE-

A mistletoe is a symbol of love, laughter, and compassion, according to legend. And kissing under the mistletoe is thought to be a manner of requesting the blessings of the Christmas spirits through the mistletoe.

9. HANGING STOCKINGS-

According to legend, we hang stockings by the chimney with care since a poor man couldn't afford to pay for his three daughters' dowries. After the girls had hung their newly washed stockings to dry, generous old St. Nick threw a sack of money down their chimney. The gold ended up there, and the tradition continued.

10. CHRISTMAS AS A HOLIDAY-

In the year 1836, Alabama became the first state in the United States to recognise Christmas as a holiday. In the year 1907, Oklahoma declared Christmas a holiday being the last state to consider Christmas as a holiday.

These Christmas facts will come to the rescue for those of us who are a little out of practice when it comes to conversation or if you need an ice breaker. You can also use this information to prepare for a Christmas quiz night.

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10 Interesting And Less Known Facts About Christmas

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Every year on December 25, people celebrate Christmas. The event commemorates the birth of Jesus Christ on his birthday. In Christian mythology, Jesus Christ is revered as God's Messiah. As a result, among Christians, his birthday is one of the most joyous occasions.

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The Little Match Girl, also titled, The Little Matchstick Girl is one of our Favorite Fairy Tales. Published by Hans Christian Andersen in 1845, it exemplifies his broad literary talent and ability. I personally like to read this story at least twice a year, once in Autumn as the holiday season comes into focus, and then again around the Christmas holiday. It's a gentle reminder of the value of compassion and charity. The Little Match Girl Study Guide is a resource for teachers and students.

Most terribly cold it was; it snowed, and was nearly quite dark, and evening-- the last evening of the year. In this cold and darkness there went along the street a poor little girl, bareheaded, and with naked feet. When she left home she had slippers on, it is true; but what was the good of that? They were very large slippers, which her mother had hitherto worn; so large were they; and the poor little thing lost them as she scuffled away across the street, because of two carriages that rolled by dreadfully fast.

One slipper was nowhere to be found; the other had been laid hold of by an urchin, and off he ran with it; he thought it would do capitally for a cradle when he some day or other should have children himself. So the little maiden walked on with her tiny naked feet, that were quite red and blue from cold. She carried a quantity of matches in an old apron, and she held a bundle of them in her hand. Nobody had bought anything of her the whole livelong day; no one had given her a single farthing.

She crept along trembling with cold and hunger--a very picture of sorrow, the poor little thing!

The flakes of snow covered her long fair hair, which fell in beautiful curls around her neck; but of that, of course, she never once now thought. From all the windows the candles were gleaming, and it smelt so deliciously of roast goose, for you know it was New Year's Eve; yes, of that she thought.

In a corner formed by two houses, of which one advanced more than the other, she seated herself down and cowered together. Her little feet she had drawn close up to her, but she grew colder and colder, and to go home she did not venture, for she had not sold any matches and could not bring a farthing of money: from her father she would certainly get blows, and at home it was cold too, for above her she had only the roof, through which the wind whistled, even though the largest cracks were stopped up with straw and rags.

Her little hands were almost numbed with cold. Oh! a match might afford her a world of comfort, if she only dared take a single one out of the bundle, draw it against the wall, and warm her fingers by it. She drew one out. "Rischt!" how it blazed, how it burnt! It was a warm, bright flame, like a candle, as she held her hands over it: it was a wonderful light. It seemed really to the little maiden as though she were sitting before a large iron stove, with burnished brass feet and a brass ornament at top. The fire burned with such blessed influence; it warmed so delightfully. The little girl had already stretched out her feet to warm them too; but--the small flame went out, the stove vanished: she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.

She rubbed another against the wall: it burned brightly, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth; upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl; when--the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind. She lighted another match. Now there she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: it was still larger, and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant's house.

Thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily-colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop-windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when--the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher, she saw them now as stars in heaven; one fell down and formed a long trail of fire.

"Someone is just dead!" said the little girl; for her old grandmother, the only person who had loved her, and who was now no more, had told her, that when a star falls, a soul ascends to God.

She drew another match against the wall: it was again light, and in the lustre there stood the old grandmother, so bright and radiant, so mild, and with such an expression of love.

"Grandmother!" cried the little one. "Oh, take me with you! You go away when the match burns out; you vanish like the warm stove, like the delicious roast goose, and like the magnificent Christmas tree!" And she rubbed the whole bundle of matches quickly against the wall, for she wanted to be quite sure of keeping her grandmother near her. And the matches gave such a brilliant light that it was brighter than at noon-day: never formerly had the grandmother been so beautiful and so tall. She took the little maiden, on her arm, and both flew in brightness and in joy so high, so very high, and then above was neither cold, nor hunger, nor anxiety--they were with God.

But in the corner, at the cold hour of dawn, sat the poor girl, with rosy cheeks and with a smiling mouth, leaning against the wall--frozen to death on the last evening of the old year. Stiff and stark sat the child there with her matches, of which one bundle had been burnt. "She wanted to warm herself," people said. No one had the slightest suspicion of what beautiful things she had seen; no one even dreamed of the splendor in which, with her grandmother she had entered on the joys of a new year.

Add The Little Match Girl to your library.

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The Little Match Girl, a Short Story by Hans Christian Andersen.

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Sean Anders ("Daddy's Home") co-wrote and directed this admittedly clever variation on a tale that's been told by everyone from the Muppets to Bill Murray, but this is a different kind of Scrooge tale. What if the ghosts that haunted Ebenezer Scrooge on that fateful night did the same thing every year to a different troubled soul? "Spirited" imagines an entire spiritual industry built around redeeming one relentless jerk-and, yes, it does get into the idea that so much energy expended on one person in an era of social media hit jobs that manipulate thousands is like a drop in a bucket. Still, facilitator Jacob Marley ( Patrick Page) believes there's value in their process, and he leads a massive team that researches each year's chosen miser.

The team thinks they have a perfect choice in a Vancouver hotel manager who yells at janitors, but the Ghost of Christmas Present ( Will Ferrell) runs into a speaker at the hotel named Clint Briggs ( Ryan Reynolds), realizing he is the white whale. Briggs is a social media manipulator, introduced singing a song-oh yeah, this is a full-throated musical-about weaponizing the war on Christmas for profit. He is the kind of businessman who doesn't see moral lines as long as his client wins, even if the client is his niece Wren ( Marlow Barkley), who he convinces to do opposition research and social media shaming on her rival for a position at school. Clint's assistant Kimberly ( Octavia Spencer) looks like she has been worn down by the moral failures of her boss, but Clint doesn't see himself as a force for bad. He's just one of those guys who believes that hitting first is the best strategy. (And it's a minor flaw of the film that the writers seem unwilling to make Clint too "unredeemable" and risk alienating viewers against one of their lovable leads.)

Ferrell's ghost becomes obsessed with redeeming Clint, even as the other spirits ( Sunita Mani plays Past and Tracy Morgan voices Yet to Come) get sidelined. Surprisingly, "Spirited" becomes as much The Ghost of Christmas Present's tale as it is Clint's, as Ferrell's character wants to leave it all behind and become human again, especially after finding an unexpected reason to rejoin the mortal coil.

All of this is told through the hyperactive energy of what feels at times like a draft for a stage musical both in function and form. Musical numbers explode with choruses of backup singers/dancers playing to one side of a set as if they're on a stage. The sense that you're watching a filmed stage musical extends to the production design, which often looks like cheap sets or green screen backgrounds instead of actual physical spaces. And the writing has that Broadway tendency to hit a few of the same beats over and over again, especially in the final acts of the film, which push this overlong musical to over two hours.

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Spirited movie review & film summary (2022) | Roger Ebert

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Sean Anders ("Daddy's Home") co-wrote and directed this admittedly clever variation on a tale that's been told by everyone from the Muppets to Bill Murray, but this is a different kind of Scrooge tale. What if the ghosts that haunted Ebenezer Scrooge on that fateful night did the same thing every year to a different troubled soul?

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PDF file, 2 pgs.

Christmas Stories "Written by Mark Twain to his daughter, Susy

Palace of Saint Nicholas in the Moon
Christmas Morning

My Dear Susy Clemens,

I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me . . . . I can read your and your baby sister's jagged and fantastic marks without any trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters--I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself--and kissed both of you, too . . . . But . . . there were . . . one or two small orders which I could not fill because we ran out of stock . . . .

There was a word or two in your mama's letter which . . .I took to be "a trunk full of doll's clothes." Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o'clock this morning to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to the door. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak--otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse's bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle through it you must speak in the tube and say, "Welcome, Santa Claus!" Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you whatcolor you want the trunk to be . . . and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you want the trunk to contain. Then when I say "Good-by and a merry Christmas to my little Susy Clemens," you must say "Good-by, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much." Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the hall--if it is a trunk you want--because I couldn't get such a thing as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know . . . .If I should leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I haven't time to do such things. George must not use a broom, but a rag--else he will die someday . . . . If my boot should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and someone points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus's boot made on the marble, what will you say, little sweetheart?

Good-by for a few minutes, till I come down to the world and ring the kitchen doorbell.

Your loving Santa Claus
Whom people sometimes call
"The Man in the Moon"

THE END

Olivia "Susy" Susan Clemens

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PDF file, 2 pgs. Christmas Stories " Written by Mark Twain to his daughter, Susy Palace of Saint Nicholas in the Moon Christmas Morning My Dear Susy Clemens, I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me . . . .

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Howdy, I'm your host, Houston Mitchell. One of the more interesting World Cups of recent memory came to an end Sunday, as Argentina defeated France to win the title. Our own Kevin Baxter has been in Qatar all along, covering the happenings through some difficult circumstances. One final story from Kevin in Qatar as we kick off Monday's newsletter. We also have a poll for you to take part in, with results released in Friday's newsletter.

Get the latest on L.A.'s teams in the daily Sports Report newsletter.

You may occasionally receive promotional content from the Los Angeles Times.

From Kevin Baxter in Qatar: When Sunday's World Cup final finally ended, there was a president on one side of the field and a king on the other.

The president was France's Emmanuel Macron, who was commiserating with Kylian Mbappe, his country's young superstar and a player who has known little but success in his short career. The king was the aging Lionel Messi, who finally won the prize that had eluded him during a long and storied career.

It took six goals, 120 minutes and a four-round penalty-kick shootout to separate one from the other. But when it was finally over, Messi was world champion, assuming the crown Mbappe had worn the last four years.

"It's just crazy that it became a reality this way," Messi said. "I craved for this so much. I knew God would bring this gift to me. I had the feeling that this [World Cup] was the one."

There was no final whistle to mark the end of the game, nor was one needed. Instead, it ended with the sound of 88,966 fans screaming - most of them for Argentina - when Gonzalo Montiel's penalty try hit the back of the net.

At midfield Messi dropped to his knees and was immediately engulfed by teammates, most smiling, some crying and others, like Messi, doing both. After several long, suffocating minutes in the middle of the scrum, he broke free and headed for the sideline, arms held aloft as he waved to his family.

In Buenos Aires, tens of thousands of people celebrated in the streets.

"I know it's just a football game, but it's a World Cup final," Argentine coach Lionel Scaloni said. "For us in Argentina, it's something more."
Read more by clicking here
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Photos: Argentina defeats defending champion France for the World Cup title Analysis: Most dramatic World Cup final caps a unique tournament in Qatar Argentines erupt in joy after epic World Cup final
Who is the best soccer player of all?

A debate arose on social media after Sunday's World Cup final: Who is the best soccer player of all time, Messi, Diego Maradona or Pele? What do you say? Click here to vote in our poll.

DODGERS

From Jack Harris: After nine years, two All-Star selections and a World Series title, Justin Turner's tenure with the Dodgers has drawn to an end.

A month after the team declined an option in his contract and let him become a free agent, the veteran infielder agreed to a deal with the Boston Red Sox for two years and about $22 million, with an opt-out after next season.

Once finalized, the move will mark the latest notable departure this offseason for the Dodgers, who have already seen Trea Turner, Cody Bellinger, Tyler Anderson and several other contributors from last season's 111-win team depart in free agency.

Losing Turner, however, will mark the biggest change to the team's rapidly evolving clubhouse.
Continue reading by clicking here
CHARGERS

From Jeff Miller: He was about to get busy winning a football game, another football game, his third of this season.

But in the moments immediately prior, Cameron Dicker was just busy.

Kicking into a practice net on the Chargers' sideline, the rookie was so focused on his preparation that he might have been the only person in SoFi Stadium who didn't see the play everyone was talking about afterward.

With the score tied in the closing seconds, quarterback Justin Herbert led the Chargers on the decisive drive, one that included a rolling-out 35-yard completion to Mike Williams.

"I just heard people yell," Dicker explained later. "So I looked over and, 'Oh, we're way down there.' It was a cool thing."

Cool, like Dicker himself. Two snaps after the Williams reception, Dicker nailed a 43-yard field goal with four seconds remaining to lift the Chargers to a 17-14 victory.
Continue reading by clicking here
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Plaschke: Justin Herbert shows why he's potentially the greatest young QB in NFL history
LAKERS

From Dan Woike: Anthony Davis will likely miss a significant amount of time for the Lakers, sources familiar with the situation but not authorized to speak publicly, told The Times before Sunday's 119-117 win over Washington. Davis suffered a right foot injury in the first half Friday in the team's win against Denver.

Lakers coach Darvin Ham said Davis received X-rays on Friday night, but there's been no update to those results or any further examinations.

Sources told The Times that Davis is still undergoing evaluations and there's no set timeline for his return.
Continue reading by clicking here
USC BASKETBALL

After a couple of close losses in the Bahamas last month, USC was looking for a signature win and a boost of confidence.

The Trojans got a big one Sunday, holding off 19th-ranked Auburn 74-71 for their fifth straight victory.

USC (9-3) lost in overtime to Tennessee and by five points to Wisconsin at the Bahamas event over Thanksgiving. With just one game left before resuming Pac-12 play, the Trojans wanted to make a statement.

"Our team has improved dramatically since the Bahamas," coach Andy Enfield said. "This is our biggest win of the year by far. We've a young team developing and this showed we can compete."

Boogie Ellis scored a career-high 28 points and the Trojans forced 14 of Auburn's season-high 23 turnovers in the second half of the teams' first meeting since 1977. USC scored 23 points off the Tigers' miscues.

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The USC women's basketball team lost to Texas, 62-48. The defeat puts the Trojans at 9-2 overall, while the Longhorns improved to 7-4.

UCLA BASKETBALL

From Ben Bolch: Three days after routing No. 20 Maryland on the road, No. 16 UCLA took Manhattan on Saturday with a 63-53 victory over No. 13 Kentucky at Madison Square Garden in the CBS Sports Classic.

A trip that had once appeared so daunting given the Bruins' struggles the last time they faced nationally ranked teams - resulting in two losses in Las Vegas - left them with celebratory smiles after a sweep.

Along the way, UCLA found a formula that could sustain it the rest of the season.

Take care of the ball. Defend. Play with fearlessness.

Here are five takeaways from UCLA's East Coast swing as it careens toward the heart of its Pac-12 schedule.
Click here to continue reading
HOCKEY

From Helene Elliott: Cayla Barnes' athletic talents have taken her far from Eastvale, in Riverside County, where she grew up playing soccer and roller hockey before she followed her older brothers out to the ice and launched a stellar career.

Barnes, 23, has won a gold medal and a silver medal while representing the U.S. in the last two Winter Olympic hockey tournaments. She has played in three women's world championships, three under-18 women's world tournaments - where she became the first player to win three consecutive gold medals - and dozens of other elite competitions.

Barnes, who played for the Junior Kings' bantam-AAA team, the Junior Ducks and the Lady Ducks before heading East for prep school and Boston College, is a smooth skater and creative puck-handler in the mold of her role model, Hall of Fame member and former Duck Scott Niedermayer. She's one of the best defensemen in the women's game, sure to be a mainstay of U.S. national and Olympic teams for years.

"The number one thing is her calming presence, for me," U.S. coach John Wroblewski said. "She's got a knack for the game. Great vision and just very dependable."

But there's one significant experience missing from her list of accomplishments: feeling the thrill of playing a home game with the USA crest on her jersey.

That will change Monday, when Barnes suits up for Team USA at Crypto.com Arena against Canada for the fifth game in their teams' seven-game Rivalry Series. It will be wonderfully familiar for her. It also will be oddly different.
Read more by clicking here
1913 - Heavyweight champion Jack Johnson fights to a 10-round draw with Battling Jim Johnson in Paris.

1917 - The NHL begins play. Joe Malone of the Montreal Canadiens scores five goals in a 9-4 victory over the Ottawa Senators. Harry Hyland of the Montreal Wanderers scores five goals in a 10-9 victory over the Toronto Maple Leafs.

1943 - Harry Lumley, at 17 years and 38 days old, becomes the youngest goaltender in NHL history when he plays for the Detroit Red Wings in a 6-2 loss to the New York Rangers at Madison Square Garden.

1948 - The Cleveland Browns complete an undefeated season beating the Buffalo Bills 49-7 in AAFC championship game.

1948 - The Philadelphia Eagles beat the Chicago Cardinals 7-0 in a major snowstorm for the NFL title. Philadelphia's Bucko Kilroy recovers a fumble on the 17-yard line in the fourth period, and Steve Van Buren later scores from the 5.

1976 - The Pittsburgh Steelers beat the Baltimore Colts 40-14 in an AFC playoff game. Ten minutes after the game, Donald Kroner, a former charter pilot, crashes a rented, low-wing, Piper Cherokee into the upper deck of Memorial Stadium. No one is seriously hurt as most of the capacity crowd of 60,020 left the one-sided contest early or were heading down the exit ramps.

1987 - Boston and St. Louis combine for the fastest two goals in NHL history. Ken Linseman puts the Bruins ahead 6-5 with 10 seconds left in the third period. Doug Gilmour of Boston wins the faceoff and shoots the puck into an empty net two seconds later to wrap up a 7-5 win over the Blues at Boston Garden.

1990 - Raiders running back Bo Jackson is named to the AFC team, as a reserve, becoming the first athlete chosen for All-Star games in two sports.

2001 - Marshall, led by Byron Leftwich, comes back from a 38-8 halftime deficit to beat East Carolina 64-61 in double-overtime in the GMAC Bowl for the highest scoring bowl game in history.

2007 - New York Islanders forward Chris Simon is banned for 30 games, drawing the longest suspension in NHL history again. Simon's latest infraction was stepping on Pittsburgh's Jarkko Ruutu with his skate during a Dec. 15 game. This is the seventh suspension of Simon's career.

2009 - Michael Phelps helps his American team trounce a group of European all-stars in the Duel in the Pool, anchoring a relay to one of the eight world records the U.S. sets over the two-day meet in Manchester, England.

2010 - Philadelphia's DeSean Jackson returns a punt 65 yards for a touchdown as time expires in the Eagles' 38-31 comeback win at the New York Giants. It's the only game-winning punt-return touchdown in NFL history as the Eagles come back from a 31-10 fourth-quarter deficit. It marks the ninth time in NFL history in which a team trailed by at least 21 points in the fourth quarter and wins the game.

2010 - The Detroit Lions stop their record road skid at 26 games with a 23-20 overtime win at Tampa Bay. It's the first road win since Oct. 28, 2007, when they beat the Bears 16-7 at Chicago.

2017 - Freshman Trae Young has 26 points and ties an NCAA Division I record with 22 assists as No. 17 Oklahoma rolls past Northwestern State 105-68.

2017 - North Carolina coach Sylvia Hatchell becomes the third women's Division I coach to register her 1,000th career victory after the Tar Heels beat Grambling State 79-63.

2017 - Geno Auriemma wins his 1000th game as top-ranked UConn beat Oklahoma 88-64 in the Hall of Fame women's Holiday Showcase. Auriemma becomes the fourth women's coach to reach the 1,000-win mark, joining Pat Summitt, Tara VanDerveer and Sylvia Hatchell, who earned her milestone victory earlier in the day.

2018 - Houston Rockets set NBA single-game record with 26 three-pointers in 136-118 victory over Washington Wizards;
Compiled by the Associated Press
And finally

DeSean Jackson becomes the first person to return a punt for a game-winning touchdown. Watch and listen here.

Until next time...

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The Sports Report: Argentina is the 2022 World Cup champion

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Howdy, I'm your host, Houston Mitchell. One of the more interesting World Cups of recent memory came to an end Sunday, as Argentina defeated France to win the title. Our own Kevin Baxter has been in Qatar all along, covering the happenings through some difficult circumstances.

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Since creating his accounts on various platforms, Andrew Tate has amassed a sizable following on social media. He is renowned for flaunting...

Andrew Tate: Age, height, weight, Networth, family, kickboxing record, social media followers, and more

Since creating his accounts on various platforms, Andrew Tate has amassed a sizable following on social media. He is renowned for flaunting his opulent lifestyle and promoting divisive ideas. Let's look at Top G Andrew Tate's age, height, weight, net worth, family, kickboxing history, social media following, and other data. Follow Combat Sports News Updates with InsideSport.IN

Also Read: Dana White: Where to watch UFC president's new venture Power Slap?

All about Andrew Tate

#HappyBirthdayTopG pic.twitter.com/rFMdz6CJZQ

- Andrew Tate (@Cobratate) December 1, 2022

The British-American is 35 years old because he was born on December 1st, 1986. Although he was born in Luton, England, he now lives in Romania most of the time.

The former kickboxer weighs about 198 pounds and is 192 cm tall (90kg).

Also Read: Video: UFC fans react to a potential Kamaru Usman vs Jan Blachowicz fight

Emory Tate and Eileen Tate gave birth to Andrew Tate. Janine and Tristan are his two younger siblings. Lawyer Janine Tate currently resides in Kentucky. American chess player Emory Tate, born in Chicago, was their father. According to chess.com, he was a five-time United States Armed Forces Chess Championship champion and an international master.

According to Show Biz Corner, Emory passed away in California in 2015 at 56 after passing out during the competition. The Daily Mail stated in August 2022 that their mother, Eileen raised the three children in comparatively poor circumstances after relocating to Bedfordshire, England, when Andrew Tate was eleven years old.

Meanwhile, the controversial social media celebrity Andrew Tate stated during a guest appearance on the Full Send podcast that he would never get married.

According to his Wikipedia profile, Andrew has fought 85 times, with 76 victories and nine losses. Some sources claim Tate had a kickboxing record of 43-9. However, Tate only earns a minor amount of his income through kickboxing. He is a four-time kickboxing champion and has won the ISKA championships in two different weight divisions.

Hustler University is Andrew Tate's primary business endeavor, and individuals are learning how to make money online through this platform. According to Andrew Tate, an American kickboxer, his wealth is $355 million. According to the report, a little over 1 lakh 36 thousand kids learn with him. The candidate is charged a monthly fee of Rs 3600.

Previously, kickboxing professional Andrew Tate stated that the highest salary he had received was only $100,000. He gave up fighting to pursue businesses that would pay him more. When Tate was 27, he made his first $1 million. The former kickboxer had a net worth of $100 million when he was 31 years old. He earned between $10,000 and $80,000 every month before he deleted his YouTube channels.

Although Tate, 35, has become well-known online, Twitter banned him in 2017 for violating its terms of service by saying that rape victims "bear some blame." For violating the networks' hate speech policies, he was banned from YouTube, Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok in August of this year. In November, Tate returned to Twitter triumphantly, proclaiming himself to be the "last superhero of masculinity" and pledging to save everyone.

Most of the former kickboxer's tweets since his return to Twitter have been devoted to promoting his views on what makes a guy a good father and criticizing the media for misrepresenting him as a misogynist and a negative role model for young men.

Also Read: Boxing 2022: Best boxing knockouts in 2022 ft. Deontay Wilder, Terence Crawford, Caleb Plant

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Andrew Tate: Age, height, weight, Networth, family, kickboxing record, social media followers, and more

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Since creating his accounts on various platforms, Andrew Tate has amassed a sizable following on social media. He is renowned for flaunting... Since creating his accounts on various platforms, Andrew Tate has amassed a sizable following on social media. He is renowned for flaunting his opulent lifestyle and promoting divisive ideas.

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December 14- Two pages of non fiction book 

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December 14- Two pages of non fiction book 

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December 12- the instructions on a packet of soup

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December 12- the instructions on a packet of soup

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Produced by Dennis Amundson

A Kidnapped Santa Claus

by

L. Frank Baum

Santa Claus lives in the Laughing Valley, where stands the big, rambling castle in which his toys are manufactured. His workmen, selected from the ryls, knooks, pixies and fairies, live with him, and every one is as busy as can be from one year's end to another.

It is called the Laughing Valley because everything there is happy and gay. The brook chuckles to itself as it leaps rollicking between its green banks; the wind whistles merrily in the trees; the sunbeams dance lightly over the soft grass, and the violets and wild flowers look smilingly up from their green nests. To laugh one needs to be happy; to be happy one needs to be content. And throughout the Laughing Valley of Santa Claus contentment reigns supreme.

On one side is the mighty Forest of Burzee. At the other side stands the huge mountain that contains the Caves of the Daemons. And between them the Valley lies smiling and peaceful.

One would thing that our good old Santa Claus, who devotes his days to making children happy, would have no enemies on all the earth; and, as a matter of fact, for a long period of time he encountered nothing but love wherever he might go.

But the Daemons who live in the mountain caves grew to hate Santa Claus very much, and all for the simple reason that he made children happy.

The Caves of the Daemons are five in number. A broad pathway leads up to the first cave, which is a finely arched cavern at the foot of the mountain, the entrance being beautifully carved and decorated. In it resides the Daemon of Selfishness. Back of this is another cavern inhabited by the Daemon of Envy. The cave of the Daemon of Hatred is next in order, and through this one passes to the home of the Daemon of Malice-situated in a dark and fearful cave in the very heart of the mountain. I do not know what lies beyond this. Some say there are terrible pitfalls leading to death and destruction, and this may very well be true. However, from each one of the four caves mentioned there is a small, narrow tunnel leading to the fifth cave-a cozy little room occupied by the Daemon of Repentance. And as the rocky floors of these passages are well worn by the track of passing feet, I judge that many wanderers in the Caves of the Daemons have escaped through the tunnels to the abode of the Daemon of Repentance, who is said to be a pleasant sort of fellow who gladly opens for one a little door admitting you into fresh air and sunshine again.

Well, these Daemons of the Caves, thinking they had great cause to dislike old Santa Claus, held a meeting one day to discuss the matter.

"I'm really getting lonesome," said the Daemon of Selfishness. "For Santa Claus distributes so many pretty Christmas gifts to all the children that they become happy and generous, through his example, and keep away from my cave."

"I'm having the same trouble," rejoined the Daemon of Envy. "The little ones seem quite content with Santa Claus, and there are few, indeed, that I can coax to become envious."

"And that makes it bad for me!" declared the Daemon of Hatred. "For if no children pass through the Caves of Selfishness and Envy, none can get to MY cavern."

"Or to mine," added the Daemon of Malice.

"For my part," said the Daemon of Repentance, "it is easily seen that if children do not visit your caves they have no need to visit mine; so that I am quite as neglected as you are."

"And all because of this person they call Santa Claus!" exclaimed the Daemon of Envy. "He is simply ruining our business, and something must be done at once."

To this they readily agreed; but what to do was another and more difficult matter to settle. They knew that Santa Claus worked all through the year at his castle in the Laughing Valley, preparing the gifts he was to distribute on Christmas Eve; and at first they resolved to try to tempt him into their caves, that they might lead him on to the terrible pitfalls that ended in destruction.

So the very next day, while Santa Claus was busily at work, surrounded by his little band of assistants, the Daemon of Selfishness came to him and said:

"These toys are wonderfully bright and pretty. Why do you not keep them for yourself? It's a pity to give them to those noisy boys and fretful girls, who break and destroy them so quickly."

"Nonsense!" cried the old graybeard, his bright eyes twinkling merrily as he turned toward the tempting Daemon. "The boys and girls are never so noisy and fretful after receiving my presents, and if I can make them happy for one day in the year I am quite content."

So the Daemon went back to the others, who awaited him in their caves, and said:

"I have failed, for Santa Claus is not at all selfish."

The following day the Daemon of Envy visited Santa Claus. Said he: "The toy shops are full of playthings quite as pretty as those you are making. What a shame it is that they should interfere with your business! They make toys by machinery much quicker than you can make them by hand; and they sell them for money, while you get nothing at all for your work."

But Santa Claus refused to be envious of the toy shops.

"I can supply the little ones but once a year-on Christmas Eve," he answered; "for the children are many, and I am but one. And as my work is one of love and kindness I would be ashamed to receive money for my little gifts. But throughout all the year the children must be amused in some way, and so the toy shops are able to bring much happiness to my little friends. I like the toy shops, and am glad to see them prosper."

In spite of the second rebuff, the Daemon of Hatred thought he would try to influence Santa Claus. So the next day he entered the busy workshop and said:

"Good morning, Santa! I have bad news for you."

"Then run away, like a good fellow," answered Santa Claus. "Bad news is something that should be kept secret and never told."

"You cannot escape this, however," declared the Daemon; "for in the world are a good many who do not believe in Santa Claus, and these you are bound to hate bitterly, since they have so wronged you."

"Stuff and rubbish!" cried Santa.

"And there are others who resent your making children happy and who sneer at you and call you a foolish old rattlepate! You are quite right to hate such base slanderers, and you ought to be revenged upon them for their evil words."

"But I don't hate 'em!" exclaimed Santa Claus positively. "Such people do me no real harm, but merely render themselves and their children unhappy. Poor things! I'd much rather help them any day than injure them."

Indeed, the Daemons could not tempt old Santa Claus in any way. On the contrary, he was shrewd enough to see that their object in visiting him was to make mischief and trouble, and his cheery laughter disconcerted the evil ones and showed to them the folly of such an undertaking. So they abandoned honeyed words and determined to use force.

It was well known that no harm can come to Santa Claus while he is in the Laughing Valley, for the fairies, and ryls, and knooks all protect him. But on Christmas Eve he drives his reindeer out into the big world, carrying a sleighload of toys and pretty gifts to the children; and this was the time and the occasion when his enemies had the best chance to injure him. So the Daemons laid their plans and awaited the arrival of Christmas Eve.

The moon shone big and white in the sky, and the snow lay crisp and sparkling on the ground as Santa Claus cracked his whip and sped away out of the Valley into the great world beyond. The roomy sleigh was packed full with huge sacks of toys, and as the reindeer dashed onward our jolly old Santa laughed and whistled and sang for very joy. For in all his merry life this was the one day in the year when he was happiest-the day he lovingly bestowed the treasures of his workshop upon the little children.

It would be a busy night for him, he well knew. As he whistled and shouted and cracked his whip again, he reviewed in mind all the towns and cities and farmhouses where he was expected, and figured that he had just enough presents to go around and make every child happy. The reindeer knew exactly what was expected of them, and dashed along so swiftly that their feet scarcely seemed to touch the snow-covered ground.

Suddenly a strange thing happened: a rope shot through the moonlight and a big noose that was in the end of it settled over the arms and body of Santa Claus and drew tight. Before he could resist or even cry out he was jerked from the seat of the sleigh and tumbled head foremost into a snowbank, while the reindeer rushed onward with the load of toys and carried it quickly out of sight and sound.

Such a surprising experience confused old Santa for a moment, and when he had collected his senses he found that the wicked Daemons had pulled him from the snowdrift and bound him tightly with many coils of the stout rope. And then they carried the kidnapped Santa Claus away to their mountain, where they thrust the prisoner into a secret cave and chained him to the rocky wall so that he could not escape.

"Ha, ha!" laughed the Daemons, rubbing their hands together with cruel glee. "What will the children do now? How they will cry and scold and storm when they find there are no toys in their stockings and no gifts on their Christmas trees! And what a lot of punishment they will receive from their parents, and how they will flock to our Caves of Selfishness, and Envy, and Hatred, and Malice! We have done a mighty clever thing, we Daemons of the Caves!"

Now it so chanced that on this Christmas Eve the good Santa Claus had taken with him in his sleigh Nuter the Ryl, Peter the Knook, Kilter the Pixie, and a small fairy named Wisk-his four favorite assistants. These little people he had often found very useful in helping him to distribute his gifts to the children, and when their master was so suddenly dragged from the sleigh they were all snugly tucked underneath the seat, where the sharp wind could not reach them.

The tiny immortals knew nothing of the capture of Santa Claus until some time after he had disappeared. But finally they missed his cheery voice, and as their master always sang or whistled on his journeys, the silence warned them that something was wrong.

Little Wisk stuck out his head from underneath the seat and found
Santa Claus gone and no one to direct the flight of the reindeer.

"Whoa!" he called out, and the deer obediently slackened speed and came to a halt.

Peter and Nuter and Kilter all jumped upon the seat and looked back over the track made by the sleigh. But Santa Claus had been left miles and miles behind.

"What shall we do?" asked Wisk anxiously, all the mirth and mischief banished from his wee face by this great calamity.

"We must go back at once and find our master," said Nuter the Ryl, who thought and spoke with much deliberation.

"No, no!" exclaimed Peter the Knook, who, cross and crabbed though he was, might always be depended upon in an emergency. "If we delay, or go back, there will not be time to get the toys to the children before morning; and that would grieve Santa Claus more than anything else."

"It is certain that some wicked creatures have captured him," added Kilter thoughtfully, "and their object must be to make the children unhappy. So our first duty is to get the toys distributed as carefully as if Santa Claus were himself present. Afterward we can search for our master and easily secure his freedom."

This seemed such good and sensible advice that the others at once resolved to adopt it. So Peter the Knook called to the reindeer, and the faithful animals again sprang forward and dashed over hill and valley, through forest and plain, until they came to the houses wherein children lay sleeping and dreaming of the pretty gifts they would find on Christmas morning.

The little immortals had set themselves a difficult task; for although they had assisted Santa Claus on many of his journeys, their master had always directed and guided them and told them exactly what he wished them to do. But now they had to distribute the toys according to their own judgment, and they did not understand children as well as did old Santa. So it is no wonder they made some laughable errors.

Mamie Brown, who wanted a doll, got a drum instead; and a drum is of no use to a girl who loves dolls. And Charlie Smith, who delights to romp and play out of doors, and who wanted some new rubber boots to keep his feet dry, received a sewing box filled with colored worsteds and threads and needles, which made him so provoked that he thoughtlessly called our dear Santa Claus a fraud.

Had there been many such mistakes the Daemons would have accomplished their evil purpose and made the children unhappy. But the little friends of the absent Santa Claus labored faithfully and intelligently to carry out their master's ideas, and they made fewer errors than might be expected under such unusual circumstances.

And, although they worked as swiftly as possible, day had begun to break before the toys and other presents were all distributed; so for the first time in many years the reindeer trotted into the Laughing Valley, on their return, in broad daylight, with the brilliant sun peeping over the edge of the forest to prove they were far behind their accustomed hours.

Having put the deer in the stable, the little folk began to wonder how they might rescue their master; and they realized they must discover, first of all, what had happened to him and where he was.

So Wisk the Fairy transported himself to the bower of the Fairy Queen, which was located deep in the heart of the Forest of Burzee; and once there, it did not take him long to find out all about the naughty Daemons and how they had kidnapped the good Santa Claus to prevent his making children happy. The Fairy Queen also promised her assistance, and then, fortified by this powerful support, Wisk flew back to where Nuter and Peter and Kilter awaited him, and the four counseled together and laid plans to rescue their master from his enemies.

It is possible that Santa Claus was not as merry as usual during the night that succeeded his capture. For although he had faith in the judgment of his little friends he could not avoid a certain amount of worry, and an anxious look would creep at times into his kind old eyes as he thought of the disappointment that might await his dear little children. And the Daemons, who guarded him by turns, one after another, did not neglect to taunt him with contemptuous words in his helpless condition.

When Christmas Day dawned the Daemon of Malice was guarding the prisoner, and his tongue was sharper than that of any of the others.

"The children are waking up, Santa!" he cried. "They are waking up to find their stockings empty! Ho, ho! How they will quarrel, and wail, and stamp their feet in anger! Our caves will be full today, old Santa! Our caves are sure to be full!"

But to this, as to other like taunts, Santa Claus answered nothing. He was much grieved by his capture, it is true; but his courage did not forsake him. And, finding that the prisoner would not reply to his jeers, the Daemon of Malice presently went away, and sent the Daemon of Repentance to take his place.

This last personage was not so disagreeable as the others. He had gentle and refined features, and his voice was soft and pleasant in tone.

"My brother Daemons do not trust me overmuch," said he, as he entered the cavern; "but it is morning, now, and the mischief is done. You cannot visit the children again for another year."

"That is true," answered Santa Claus, almost cheerfully;
"Christmas Eve is past, and for the first time in centuries
I have not visited my children."

"The little ones will be greatly disappointed," murmured the Daemon of Repentance, almost regretfully; "but that cannot be helped now. Their grief is likely to make the children selfish and envious and hateful, and if they come to the Caves of the Daemons today I shall get a chance to lead some of them to my Cave of Repentance."

"Do you never repent, yourself?" asked Santa Claus, curiously.

"Oh, yes, indeed," answered the Daemon. "I am even now repenting that I assisted in your capture. Of course it is too late to remedy the evil that has been done; but repentance, you know, can come only after an evil thought or deed, for in the beginning there is nothing to repent of."

"So I understand," said Santa Claus. "Those who avoid evil need never visit your cave."

"As a rule, that is true," replied the Daemon; "yet you, who have done no evil, are about to visit my cave at once; for to prove that I sincerely regret my share in your capture I am going to permit you to escape."

This speech greatly surprised the prisoner, until he reflected that it was just what might be expected of the Daemon of Repentance. The fellow at once busied himself untying the knots that bound Santa Claus and unlocking the chains that fastened him to the wall. Then he led the way through a long tunnel until they both emerged in the Cave of Repentance.

"I hope you will forgive me," said the Daemon pleadingly. "I am not really a bad person, you know; and I believe I accomplish a great deal of good in the world."

With this he opened a back door that let in a flood of sunshine, and
Santa Claus sniffed the fresh air gratefully.

"I bear no malice," said he to the Daemon, in a gentle voice; "and I am sure the world would be a dreary place without you. So, good morning, and a Merry Christmas to you!"

With these words he stepped out to greet the bright morning, and a moment later he was trudging along, whistling softly to himself, on his way to his home in the Laughing Valley.

Marching over the snow toward the mountain was a vast army, made up of the most curious creatures imaginable. There were numberless knooks from the forest, as rough and crooked in appearance as the gnarled branches of the trees they ministered to. And there were dainty ryls from the fields, each one bearing the emblem of the flower or plant it guarded. Behind these were many ranks of pixies, gnomes and nymphs, and in the rear a thousand beautiful fairies floated along in gorgeous array.

This wonderful army was led by Wisk, Peter, Nuter, and Kilter, who had assembled it to rescue Santa Claus from captivity and to punish the Daemons who had dared to take him away from his beloved children.

And, although they looked so bright and peaceful, the little immortals were armed with powers that would be very terrible to those who had incurred their anger. Woe to the Daemons of the Caves if this mighty army of vengeance ever met them!

But lo! coming to meet his loyal friends appeared the imposing form of Santa Claus, his white beard floating in the breeze and his bright eyes sparkling with pleasure at this proof of the love and veneration he had inspired in the hearts of the most powerful creatures in existence.

And while they clustered around him and danced with glee at his safe return, he gave them earnest thanks for their support. But Wisk, and Nuter, and Peter, and Kilter, he embraced affectionately.

"It is useless to pursue the Daemons," said Santa Claus to the army. "They have their place in the world, and can never be destroyed. But that is a great pity, nevertheless," he continued musingly.

So the fairies, and knooks, and pixies, and ryls all escorted the good man to his castle, and there left him to talk over the events of the night with his little assistants.

Wisk had already rendered himself invisible and flown through the big world to see how the children were getting along on this bright Christmas morning; and by the time he returned, Peter had finished telling Santa Claus of how they had distributed the toys.

"We really did very well," cried the fairy, in a pleased voice; "for I found little unhappiness among the children this morning. Still, you must not get captured again, my dear master; for we might not be so fortunate another time in carrying out your ideas."

He then related the mistakes that had been made, and which he had not discovered until his tour of inspection. And Santa Claus at once sent him with rubber boots for Charlie Smith, and a doll for Mamie Brown; so that even those two disappointed ones became happy.

As for the wicked Daemons of the Caves, they were filled with anger and chagrin when they found that their clever capture of Santa Claus had come to naught. Indeed, no one on that Christmas Day appeared to be at all selfish, or envious, or hateful. And, realizing that while the children's saint had so many powerful friends it was folly to oppose him, the Daemons never again attempted to interfere with his journeys on Christmas Eve.

End of Project Gutenberg's A Kidnapped Santa Claus, by L. Frank Baum

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Produced by Dennis Amundson A Kidnapped Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum Santa Claus lives in the Laughing Valley, where stands the big, rambling castle in which his toys are manufactured. His workmen, selected from the ryls, knooks, pixies and fairies, live with him, and every one is as busy as can be from one year's end to another.

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NUTCRACKER AND MOUSE-KING.

During the long, long day of the twenty-fourth of December, the children of Doctor Stahlbaum were not permitted to enter the parlor, much less the adjoining drawing-room. Frederic and Maria sat nestled together in a corner of the back chamber; dusky twilight had come on, and they felt quite gloomy and fearful, for, as was commonly the case on this day, no light was brought in to them. Fred, in great secrecy, and in a whisper, informed his little sister (she was only just seven years old), that ever since morning he had heard a rustling and a rattling, and now and then a gentle knocking, in the forbidden chambers. Not long ago also he had seen a little dark man, with a large chest under his arm, gliding softly through the entry, but he knew very well that it was nobody but Godfather Drosselmeier. Upon this Maria clapped her little hands together for joy, and exclaimed, "Ah, what beautiful things has Godfather Drosselmeier made for us this time!"

Counsellor Drosselmeier was not a very handsome man; he was small and thin, had many wrinkles in his face, over his right eye he had a large black patch, and he was without hair, for which reason he wore a very nice white wig; this was made of glass however, and was a very ingenious piece of work. The Godfather himself was very ingenious also, he understood all about clocks and watches, and could even make them. Accordingly, when any one of the beautiful clocks in Doctor Stahlbaum's house was sick, and could not sing, Godfather Drosselmeier would have to attend it. He would then take off his glass wig, pull off his brown coat, put on a blue apron, and pierce the clock with sharp-pointed instruments, which usually caused little Maria a great deal of anxiety. But it did the clock no harm; on the contrary, it became quite lively again, and began at once right merrily to rattle, and to strike, and to sing, so that it was a pleasure to all who heard it. Whenever he came, he always brought something pretty in his pocket for the children, sometimes a little man who moved his eyes and made a bow, at others, a box, from which a little bird hopped out when it was opened-sometimes one thing, sometimes another.

When Christmas Eve came, he had always a beautiful piece of work prepared for them, which had cost him a great deal of trouble, and on this account it was always carefully preserved by their parents, after he had given it to them. "Ah, what beautiful present has Godfather Drosselmeier made for us this time!" exclaimed Maria. It was Fred's opinion that this time it could be nothing else than a castle, in which all kinds of fine soldiers marched up and down and went through their exercises; then other soldiers would come, and try to break into the castle, but the soldiers within would fire off their cannon very bravely, until all roared and cracked again. "No, no," cried Maria, interrupting him, "Godfather Drosselmeier has told me of a lovely garden where there is a great lake, upon which beautiful swans swim about, with golden collars around their necks, and sing their sweetest songs. Then there comes a little girl out of the garden down along the lake, and coaxes the swans to the shore, and feeds them with sweet cake."

"Swans never eat cake," interrupted Fred, somewhat roughly, "and even Godfather Drosselmeier himself can't make a whole garden. After all, we have little good of his playthings; they are all taken right away from us again. I like what Papa and Mamma give us much better, for we can keep their presents for ourselves, and do as we please with them." The children now began once more to guess what it could be this time. Maria thought that Miss Trutchen (her great doll) was growing very old, for she fell almost every moment upon the floor, and more awkwardly than ever, which could not happen without leaving sad marks upon her face, and as to neatness in dress, this was now altogether out of the question with her. Scolding did not help the matter in the least. Frederic declared, on the other hand, that a bay horse was wanting in his stable, and his troops were very deficient in cavalry, as his Papa very well knew.

By this time it had become quite dark. Frederic and Maria sat close together, and did not venture again to speak a word. It seemed now as if soft wings rustled around them, and very distant, but sweet music was heard at intervals. At this moment a shrill sound broke upon their ears-kling, ling-kling, ling-the doors flew wide open, and such a dazzling light broke out from the great chamber, that with the loud exclamation, "Ah! ah!" the children stood fixed at the threshold. But Papa and Mamma stepped to the door, took them by the hand, and said, "Come, come, dear children, and see what Christmas has brought you this year."

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Nutcracker and Mouse-King/Chapter 1 - Wikisource, the free online library

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NUTCRACKER AND MOUSE-KING. During the long, long day of the twenty-fourth of December, the children of Doctor Stahlbaum were not permitted to enter the parlor, much less the adjoining drawing-room.

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Starring: Machauley Culkin, Joe Pesci, Daniel Stern, and Catherine O' Hara.

The same boy who was accidentally left Home Alone a year ago, accidentally takes the wrong flight. Instead of arriving in Miami with the rest of his family, he arrives in New York! The same two robbers that failed to rob his house last time, coincidentally arrive in New York to rob another place! What a small, freakin' world.

The movie has the same number of slapstick humor and the same amount of fun, so this should be a holiday treat.

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Home Alone 2: Lost in New York (1992) - IMDb

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Starring: Machauley Culkin, Joe Pesci, Daniel Stern, and Catherine O' Hara. The same boy who was accidentally left Home Alone a year ago, accidentally takes the wrong flight. Instead of arriving in Miami with the rest of his family, he arrives in New York!

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December 23 - A review of a Christmas film

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December 23 - A review of a Christmas film

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How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000)-REVIEW

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Huh...? What...? Im sorry, let me try to start over. How the Grinch Stole Christmas is a weird ass movie. To be fair, the wonderful world of Dr. Seuss is built on its weirdness, with bizarre locations, funny looking characters, and nonsensical rhyming.

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Falling for Christmas movie review (2022) | Roger Ebert

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Generic, yet charming, following the well-worn template of city girl finding love and a simpler life in the country.

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Movie Review: A Netflix Holiday - "A Boy Called Christmas" and "A Castle for Christmas"

by Jen Johans
"A Boy Called Christmas"
Director: Gil Kenan

Cast: Henry Lawfull, Maggie Smith, Michiel Huisman, & Sally Hawkins

On Netflix: https://www.netflix.com/title/81029733
"A Castle for Christmas"
Director: Mary Lambert

Cast: Brooke Shields, Cary Elwes, Andi Osho, & Lee Ross

On Netflix: https://www.netflix.com/title/81026181

The Netflix equivalent of putting up your Christmas tree and/or starting your holiday shopping the day after Thanksgiving, this year, the streaming service's version of Black Friday comes in two new high profile, high caliber Christmas movies which are scheduled to premiere on Friday, November 26.

Inspired by the question "was Father Christmas ever a boy?" which was posed by author Matt Haig's son, the first film, from "Monster House" director Gil Kenan, is a gorgeously crafted, old-fashioned fairytale adaptation of Haig's bestselling 2015 British children's book "A Boy Called Christmas."

Tonally a cross between C.S. Lewis, Hans Christian Andersen, Charles Dickens, J.K. Rowling, and Roald Dahl in its balance of darkness, magic, heart, and light, Kenan's film begins with a framing device straight out of "The Princess Bride."Arriving at their home late at night, a great aunt played by the irreplaceable Maggie Smith tells the tale of the brave boy we'll all eventually know as Father Christmas to her young relatives at bedtime. Next, switching to a different time and place, we move away from contemporary London as Smith's fable starts to play out before our eyes.

Still reeling from the loss of his mother, which is something shared by the characters in the modern setting as well, "Christmas" chronicles the plight of Nikolas (portrayed by top-notch relative newcomer Henry Lawfull). Fearing for the safety of the sole parent he has left (Michiel Huisman), Nikolas sets out on a perilous journey to the north to find his dad when he fails to return from his search for the village of Elfhelm in order to bring hope to us all.

Populated by a who's who of great character actors, including Sally Hawkins, Kristen Wiig, Jim Broadbent, Toby Jones, and Stephen Merchant (priceless here as the voice of Miika the Mouse), the film looks and sounds like a dream, thanks to the effects team and production designer behind the "Paddington" movies, and a lovely score courtesy of the great Dario Marianelli. Additionally, it's fun to see the actors let loose, particularly Hawkins and Wiig who relish their Wicked Witch-like moments to eat up the screen.

The type of film you could leave on in the background when you make cookies or put up your tree, while it's easy to lose yourself in the snowy spectacle of it all, disappointingly from a narrative standpoint, "A Boy Called Christmas" runs out of steam quickly. With episodic plot points, as the indefatigable, ever-determined, delightful Lawfull encounters one new character or problem after another in a by-the-numbers fashion, it grows increasingly repetitive as it continues on.

Although I am unfamiliar with the source material, I can't help but ask if perhaps its error might be an early "Harry Potter" franchise-style case of staying far too faithful to the book. Needless to say, of course, young fans of Haig's novel are sure to love seeing every moment come to life. For the rest of us, however, despite some beautiful revelations that come to light near the end of the movie, its muddled second act makes it feel twice as long as the first, and I think most viewers who don't know Haig's novel will grow restless as soon as the storyline begins to wander.

Still, from the jaw-dropping 4k presentation where even the opening sequence of Smith walking down a light-filled city street feels painterly (and indeed I wondered but really didn't care if it was CG), "A Boy Called Christmas" is a stellar technical achievement from these talented craftsmen, even if it doesn't fully work for me as a film overall. Not nearly as successful as "Monster House" or Kenan's wonderful adaptation of "City of Ember," (of which I might be the only fan and still wish for a sequel), he's such a great director that regardless of the film's shortcomings, I look forward to seeing what he'll do next.

Incidentally, it turns out that looking forward is exactly what romance author Sophie Brown (Brooke Shields) realizes she needs to do at the start of director Mary Lambert's picturesque holiday romcom travelogue "A Castle for Christmas."

Whereas "A Boy Called Christmas" was made for the kids, "A Castle for Christmas" is Netflix's present for teens and adults. It comes in the form of a fun, fluffy, snowflake light hybrid of the kinds of seasonal romances that Lifetime and the Hallmark Channel produce with alarming frequency and the sassier UK romcoms that Hugh Grant made popular back in the '90s.

Centered on Shields' Brown, the plot of "Castle" is incredibly straightforward. Having killed off the romantic hero of her dozen bestselling novels after a messy divorce, Sophie Brown incurs the wrath of her heartbroken legion of fans who want their dream man back. In desperate need of a change of scenery, she journeys to Scotland to not only hide out and write the next book in her popular Emma Gale romance series but also visit the castle that her late father loved while growing up as the son of the groundskeeper there.

Having barely arrived in her new surroundings, Sophie finds new friends quickly when she joins the knitting club in the pub of the inn where she's staying. The same dynamic we encountered in Netflix's outstanding (and much more substantive) adaptation of the acclaimed novel "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society," in "Castle," the scenes that producer-star Shields shares with her motley knitting crew are absolutely delightful.

Still, as the romance author she's portraying here knows, you can't have a love story without a male lead, and thankfully, for that we have Cary Elwes getting his scowl on as the sour, curmudgeon-like Duke of said castle, who eventually melts under Sophie's charms.

Phenomenally predictable to anyone who's ever seen a romantic comedy before, while the pair are excellent in their roles, Sheilds and Elwes' chemistry does leave a little something to be desired, although that's likely more the fault of their underdeveloped characters than the actors in question, who aren't given a whole lot with which to work.

One of those movies where the credits reveal that it was written by a committee of four different writers, it feels like certain screenwriters were hoping to emphasize the knitting club as well as develop a potential B or C romantic subplot, and others were more clearly focused on the castle angle. All in all, it's a bumpy yet nonetheless, above average cheery holiday romance.

Featuring a welcome cameo by Drew Barrymore that bookends the film as she first appears in a slightly cringeworthy, over-the-top introduction to Sophie Brown who loses it live on Barrymore's talk show (which Shields plays too broadly), Barrymore returns at the end during the final credits in a very funny two-hander between the two women.

Targeted to Gen X, it's ideally suited to those from the era who grew up watching Shields and Barrymore, were dazzled by Lambert's iconic Madonna music video "Like a Prayer," and frightened by her adaptation of "Pet Semetary," and fell in love with "Castle" leading man Cary Elwes in "The Princess Bride." And indeed, Netflix is smart to aim for this demographic.

Usually overlooked in seasonal fare that's often developed with late teens and early twenty-somethings in mind, "A Castle for Christmas" is just the pleasantly diverting, if ultimately forgettable thing to settle in with after you spend Thanksgiving in the kitchen and Black Friday setting up that tree and/or starting to shop. With so much holiday stress on the horizon, 'tis the season for snowy movies after all.

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A Netflix Holiday - "A Boy Called Christmas" and "A Castle for Christmas" - Movie Review - Phoenix Film Festival

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Movie Review: A Netflix Holiday - "A Boy Called Christmas" and "A Castle for Christmas" by Jen Johans "A Boy Called Christmas" Director: Gil Kenan Cast: Henry Lawfull, Maggie Smith, Michiel Huisman, & Sally Hawkins On Netflix: https://www.netflix.com/title/81029733 "A Cas

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December 23- a review of a Christmas film

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December 23- a review of a Christmas film

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Last Christmas (2019) on IMDb: Movies, TV, Celebs, and more...

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Real Madrid star retired from international duty a day after World Cup final

Benzema called it quits in social post on his birthday

Benzema score﻿d 37 goals in 97 games for France

France were above the clouds when the news came from Karim Benzema, and a thought came to mind: had he ever been more distant, figuratively or literally, from Les Bleus? Retiring from international football at the age of 35 is the sort of thing that would not usually raise many eyebrows. Yet Benzema's announcement, and its timing, caused a fresh quake, even as the tremors from Sunday's World Cup final were still being felt. Why had it come the day after that momentous game? Was it coming today, win or lose yesterday? Why had Benzema interrupted his own birthday to release the news? Had he waited for the team flight to depart from Qatar before dropping his bombshell?

And why, almost above all, was the announcement so curt? Just 160 characters (in its original French format) to put the lid on a story of 97 caps and 37 goals for Les Bleus. "I made the efforts and the mistakes it took to be where I am today and I'm proud of it! I have written my story and ours is ending," Benzema signed off. He's taking the kids, the car and the dog, and the house is in his name, and he'll be back for his train set, don't you worry about that. Forget counselling, here's your divorce papers. It felt like an entirely apt ending to what has been often an unhappy marriage between Benzema and the France national team.

There were 15 years and 77 days between his first and last caps, and his goals haul ranks fifth on the team's all-time list. He was man of the match against Spain in a Nations League final triumph last year, but it will be Benzema's near six-year absence from international duty that most likely defines him as a France player. Because what else are you remembering? Sure, he was a starter at Euro 2012 and the 2014 World Cup, but France went out in the quarter-finals each time. And yes, there was certainly that Nations League win, but such a soupcon of success hardly satisfied Benzema's hunger for a proper platter. He had been starved of the prospect of such a feed at Euro 2016, where France reached the final but lost out to Portugal, and again at the 2018 World Cup, where they beat Croatia in the final. If it had come down to ability, Benzema would have been a part of those French feasts, but his exclusion from each squad, and his absence from national team service between the 4-0 win over Armenia on October 8, 2015, and the 3-0 victory against Wales on June 2, 2021, was not about Benzema's playing merits.

In November 2021, Benzema was handed a one-year suspended prison sentence and fined €75,000 after being found guilty of complicity in the attempted blackmail of Mathieu Valbuena. He always denied the accusations but was still frozen out by France. He was dramatically recalled in time for the delayed Euro 2020 finals, which were held last year, saying he felt "so proud" to be back, with Didier Deschamps noting there had been long discussions that opened that door. France then exited at the last-16 stage, despite Benzema making a positive contribution on the pitch.

And now, barely 18 months later, the door that was pushed ajar has closed, with Benzema this time doing the shutting down of his international career, rather than the FFF. His final cap came in a 1-0 home defeat to Croatia in the Nations League, back in June. He should have figured in France's World Cup squad, but when he aggravated a thigh injury on the eve of the tournament it was announced he would play no part in the Qatar 2022 campaign.

So what happened for it to end this way, with seemingly little love on either side?

Karim Benzema France - Didier Deschamps selectionneur - entraineur - France - FOOTBALL : Entrainemente de l equipe de France au CNF - Clairefontaine - 27/05/2021 FedericoPestellini/Panoramic PUBLICATIONxNOTxINxFRAxITAxBEL

Former France defender Eric Di Meco told RMC Sport: "For me, it is a huge mess. A guy who plays so much time at Real, so strong, who is a Ballon d'Or winner, and who has never been able to express himself in the France team. "There is his responsibility, and it is good that he says that there are mistakes. But for me, it's a mess at the level of the France team." France will survive this, of course. They should have Kylian Mbappe around for the next decade, rewriting the record books.

But it takes an expert, perhaps, to judge what France have lost with news of Benzema's retirement. Zinedine Zidane, who might yet be the next France coach, and possibly sooner rather than later, was asked after a Real Madrid game in December 2020 whether he considered Benzema to be the greatest French forward of all time. "As far as I'm concerned, yes, he is," Zidane said. "He's showing it with all he's achieving. He's been at Real Madrid for a long time, he's played over 500 games, the goals... Really, the trophies he's won speak for themselves. "For me, he's the best there is, no doubt about it."

After Zidane left Madrid, Benzema's performances went to still greater heights, hitting 44 goals in 46 games for Madrid last season, lifting the Champions League and La Liga trophies as captain. High up in the skies on Monday, the retirement news probably reached Deschamps and the returning France squad. Benzema's tale of 'here's what you could have won' has arrived at a sad denouement, with Deschamps surely guessing he would face press interrogation about the striker on landing in Paris. And in that respect, plus ca change.

Argentina and Messi spot on for World Cup glory A tribute to Lionel Messi﻿ The excitement and emotion of a classic final Highlights | All highlights from FIFA World Cup Qatar 2022 Press Conferences | All press conferences from Qatar 2022 Post-Match Summary Reports | Check out FIFA's state-of-the-art insights, metrics and performance data in our ground-breaking post-match summary reports

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A case of what could have been as Benzema calls time on France

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Real Madrid star retired from international duty a day after World Cup final Benzema called it quits in social post on his birthday Benzema score﻿d 37 goals in 97 games for France France were above the clouds when the news came from Karim Benzema, and a thought came to mind: had he ever been more distant, figuratively or literally, from Les Bleus?

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Boris Becker has revealed that fellow inmates saved his life while he served time in prison, admitting he "was a nobody" behind bars in his first interview since being released.

Becker, 55, served eight months in UK prisons - in Wandsworth and then Huntercombe - for bankruptcy offences after having his two-and-a-half-year sentence shortened under a fast-track deportation program.

Now back in his native Germany, the tennis great and six-time Grand Slam champion has opened up for the first time on his experience, and revealed that he twice had his life threatened.

"I thought I would lose my life in Wandsworth," Becker told German broadcaster Sat.1, per Bild. "Someone, a murderer I later found out, wanted my coat and he wanted money and he said he would kill me if he didn't get it.

"Then in Huntercombe, another murderer said they wanted to kill me. My food tray was shaking."

A tearful Becker said prison authorities appeared to have tried to ensure his safety, allocating him a single cell and getting three experienced inmates or listeners to guide him in his new life behind bars.

"[The inmate] underestimated that other inmates would come to my help and threaten him," Becker added. "They saved my life."

While Becker intends to stay in touch with some of the friends he made, he also admitted he was the "loneliest I've ever been in my life".

"In prison you are a nobody," the German, a three-time Wimbledon winner, said. "You are only a number. Mine was A2923EV. I wasn't called Boris, I was a number. And nobody gives a **** who you are."

For Becker, who rose to stardom in 1985 at age 17 when he became the first unseeded player to win the men's singles title at Wimbledon, the prison sentence was a heavy blow.

Asked about the judge's statement that Becker had shown no humility, he acknowledged in the interview that "maybe I should have (been) even more clear, more emotional.

Becker also admitted fault.

"Of course I was guilty," he said of the four out of 29 counts he was convicted on.

Now he hopes to turn a new page and avoid the mistakes he made in the past, many of which he blamed on laziness and bad financial advice received from others.

"For years I made mistakes, I had false friends," he said. "I think this time in prison brought me back."

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Boris Becker reveals fellow inmates saved his life while serving time in UK prison: 'I was a nobody'

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Boris Becker has spoken publicly for the first time since leaving prison in the UK; Becker served eight months, in Wandsworth and then Huntercombe, for bankruptcy offences and said he feared for his life before he was saved by fellow inmates

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December 23 - Review of a Christmas film

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December 23 - Review of a Christmas film

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As for what "Daddy's Home 2" does have, it's an expansion of the family dynamic of the first film, which anyone familiar with the "Meet the Parents" films will recognize as an added-star-power strategy. In the post "Daddy's Home" alliance between cool-bro dad Dusty ( Mark Wahlberg) and winsome wimp stepdad Brad ( Will Ferrell), a little discontent must fall. Here it arrives in the persons of granddads. Dusty's pop is alpha-male ex-astronaut Kurt, played by Mel Gibson. Brad's dad, Don, is a motormouth ultra-limp noodle with a liking for improv comedy, played by John Lithgow. Both granddads arrive at the airport simultaneously, and macho Kurt, who hasn't seen Dusty in years, is hard-pressed to contain his disgust at the "co-dad" arrangement Dusty and Brad seem so happy in.

Surely the two very different personalities still, as one of the characters puts it, "harbor" some resentment toward each other. (The use and misuse of the word "harbor" becomes a semi-running joke, an almost sophisticated bit of linguistic humor that would absolutely not have floated in the first film.) Kurt is at first passive-aggressive-renting a house near a ski resort to better facilitate a "together Christmas" in the hopes of driving a wedge into Dusty and Brad's relationship-and then just aggressive, encouraging one of Dusty's biological children to take up turkey hunting. There are scenes in which both the two dads and the two granddads offer advice and strategies on ten-year-old or so Dylan's emerging interest in girls, and later his ineptitude at bowling. Brad's own slapstick ineptitude is highlighted when a runaway snowblower destroys a Christmas decoration display. It's all pretty amiable and funny, and further intrigue is provided by Dusty's new wife, Karen, a snooty author with supermodel looks and a snootier daughter, Adrianna, an age peer of Dylan and Megan, Dusty's kids by Linda Cardellini 's Sarah. Cardellini is given a little more to do in this picture than the first one, and that's a plus too.

"You'll laugh," a friendly publicist assured me on my way into the theater, and I did. Not a huge amount, but enough that I have to adhere to our founder Roger's rule of comedy assessment, which, most simply put, is that if a comedy made you laugh it did its job and you can't front about it. I do have to admit I laughed a little less many of the times Gibson was on screen. I praised his work in last year's tough action thriller " Blood Father," in which he was very credible as a former criminal struggling with his demons as he tries to protect a wayward daughter. But watching him try to play a bullying character for laughs here left a bad taste in my mouth. His character here is a relentless womanizer, consistently targeting younger women. Knowing how this guy reacts in real life when he feels crossed by a younger girlfriend made it difficult for me to be amused by his portrayal of a grandfather who attempts to entertain some ten-year-olds by starting a joke "So two dead hookers wash up on shore..." And so on.

Your mileage may vary, and I'm sure I'll hear about how it does in the comments.

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Daddy's Home 2 movie review & film summary (2017) | Roger Ebert

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As for what "Daddy's Home 2" does have, it's an expansion of the family dynamic of the first film, which anyone familiar with the "Meet the Parents" films will recognize as an added-star-power strategy. In the post "Daddy's Home" alliance between cool-bro dad Dusty ( Mark Wahlberg) and winsome wimp stepdad Brad ( Will Ferrell), a little discontent must fall.

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Colorful Illustration Christmas Eve Card

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Check out this 4 x 8 in designed by КОНСТАНТИН ИВАНОВ.

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December 21st - 10 interesting facts about christmas

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December 21st - 10 interesting facts about christmas

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Get into the Christmas spirit with our fantastic Christmas facts! Discover more now, from the first xmas song played in space to the origin of tinsel.

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December 19th - review of my favourite singer

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December 19th - review of my favourite singer

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With ‘Honestly, Nevermind’ Drake Reminds Us He Has the Power to Reconfigure Taste -And Elevate Hip-Hop

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His seventh studio album is both a radical departure and a decently safe bet

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December 23 - Review of a Christmas film

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December 23 - Review of a Christmas film

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's Willie (Billy Bob Thornton) is the kind of guy who makes Scrooge look like a generous, mild mannered eccentric. With a character as thoroughly unlikable as this, you know immediately that Bad Santa is not going to be just another modern-day version of A Christmas Carol. It has two modes: dark and darker, and dares to do some things with the Christmas motif that haven't been done since Norman Rene's Reckless. Realistically, however, what else would you expect from a movie directed by Terry Zwigoff ( Crumb, Ghost World) and executive produced by the Coen Brothers?

If you're looking for Christmas cheer, figure out when Love Actually is playing. Bad Santa is for anyone who has had enough of Christmas carols, artificial goodwill, and It's a Wonderful Life. Although it's true that the movie manages a happy ending of sorts, the filmmakers have their tongues wedged in their cheeks for that final scene of faux optimism, and it can certainly be interpreted in more than one way. (Is it real or a fantasy?)

The film's central figure is Willie, a loser who has adopted just about every vice known to man. The only reason he doesn't smoke more is because it would interfere with his drinking. Every Christmas, he and his partner, a dwarf (Tony Cox), get a job in a mall department store as Santa and his elf. Then, on Christmas Eve, after the mall has closed, they use their insider knowledge of the security system to disable the alarms. Willie, who has a background in safe cracking, gets them enough loot so that they can live comfortably for the next year. Except this time, things are different.

Thurman (Brett Kelly) is an 8-year old dweeb who is constantly bullied, has no friends, and lives by himself (actually, he lives with his senile grandmother, but that's as good as alone). In need of someone to believe in, he inexplicably chooses Willie, whom he constantly refers to as "Santa," even when Willie's drunk, out of costume, or humping "Mrs. Santa's sister" (Lauren Graham as a woman with a serious Santa fixation). At first, Willie is annoyed with Thurman for hanging around him, but, upon figuring out how he can use the kid, he has a change of heart. Soon, he's living in Thurman's house as he prepares for his next robbery.

Some will call this movie "mean spirited," and they're probably right. But it is designed to shock. Early in the film, we see Santa urinating in his suit, and the contempt in which he holds the kids is unsettling. The movie doesn't cop out by reforming Willie, either. That might be the perfect approach for a film that contains an ounce of holiday cheer, but it's not Bad Santa. Yet, for all its darkness - or perhaps because of it - Bad Santa is sometimes laugh-aloud hilarious. The humor is offbeat and unconventional, but much of it is funny. The fact that they're laughing through this movie will make some people feel distinctly uncomfortable.

Billy Bob Thornton plays Willie like he was born for the role. Bernie Mac is his usual larger-than-life self as a store investigator who has his eye on Willie. Brett Kelly understands what it takes to portray a dork. And Tony Cox proves that Peter Dinklage isn't the only dwarf with an attitude. Mention must be made of John Ritter in his final movie role (the film is dedicated to him). For Ritter, this isn't a standout part (he's playing the part of the department store manager who hires Willie), but it will get a fair amount of attention.

Bad Santa is definitely not for everyone. If you appreciate movies that don't compromise on their comedic journey into the heart of darkness, this is for you. If you howled at Danny DeVito's War of the Roses and think it's one of the best comedies to reach theaters in the last 20 years, Bad Santa will delight you. But if you're expecting something kinder and gentler, there's still time to see Elf. Because "kind" and "gentle" are two words no one is ever going to use to describe Bad Santa.

Bad Santa (United States, 2003)

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Bad Santa's Willie (Billy Bob Thornton) is the kind of guy who makes Scrooge look like a generous, mild mannered eccentric. With a character as thoroughly unlikable as this, you know immediately that Bad Santa is not going to be just another modern-...

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How much do you know about Christmas? What's a wassail, anyway? And what's the deal with those pickle ornaments? One of the many fun things about Christmas is that so many different cultures put their own twist on the holiday, and that's where some of these quirky traditions come from.

Ten Fascinating Christmas Facts

Learn more about this fun and sacred winter holiday with these ten Christmas facts.

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1. St. Nick's First Sleigh Ride

The imagery of Santa in a sleigh while driving eight reindeer is so entrenched in Christmas culture that it seems "the jolly old elf" must have always traveled that way. So, you may be surprised to learn that the entire idea originated with Clement Clarke Moore's beloved poem, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas.

2. Wassailing

Ever listen to the carol Here We Come a Wassailing and wonder what it means? Wassail is a traditional Christmas punch, but the term " wassailing" actually means wishing someone good health, typically during a toast.

3. Christmas Trees Are Thirsty

According to the University of Illinois Extension, cut Christmas trees need as much as a quart of water a day in the first week alone. So check your stand basin every day so your tree will make it all the way through the season.

4. The "X" in X-mas

Many people decry abbreviating Christmas to X-mas because they believe it's a secular attempt to take Christ out of Christmas. While people can look at it that way if they want to, there is another explanation for the abbreviation. X is also the Greek letter Chi, and that is the first letter in the Greek spelling for Christ. If you choose to look at it that way, X-mas doesn't remove Christ at all.

5. German Christmas Pickle Custom

No one seems to know when this tradition began, but it has become customary for many families of German descent to hang a glass pickle ornament in their Christmas tree each year. According to tradition, something good will happen to the child that finds it. In some versions, the finder will receive good luck in the coming year. In other versions, the finder gets a special prize or treat.

6. Christmas Celebrations Temporarily Banned in England

After Oliver Cromwell became ruler of England, he convinced parliament to ban all Christmas celebrations. His intention was to remove all frivolity from the day and instead make people spend the day in prayer and contemplation of Jesus' birth. There would be no caroling, no feasting, and certainly no decorations under penalty of law. The ban lasted from 1649-1660.

7. Mistletoe Etiquette

You've probably kissed someone under the mistletoe before, but are you sure you followed the proper etiquette attached to this Christmas tradition? According to the San Diego Natural History Museum, you're supposed to pluck one berry off the mistletoe sprig every time you kiss.

When all the berries are gone, no more kissing. So, you may either want to buy a bigger supply of mistletoe this year, or cheat a little and hot glue those berries back on when no one's looking!

8. Christmas on the Beach

While residents of the northern hemisphere celebrate Christmas as a winter holiday, Australians do just the opposite. December is actually early summer in the southern hemisphere, so Aussies usually head to the beach for a big Christmas celebration.

According to the Australian government, as many as 40,000 people gather at Bondi Beach, where Santa typically arrives by boat instead of by sleigh.

9. Real Silver Tinsel

If you traditionally hang tinsel from your Christmas tree, you're probably used to using those shiny, inexpensive little plastic strips coated with a metallic finish. It might interest you to know that this decoration originated in Germany, where real silver was shredded into thin strips.

Unfortunately, the silver tended to tarnish, so manufacturers began trying out other materials. This eventually led to the plastic tinsel commonly available today.

10. Origin of the Christmas Tree Tradition

According to legend, St. Boniface was so taken with the beauty of snow covered evergreens in the moonlight that he brought a tree into his home and decorated it with candles in honor of Jesus' birth. This appears to be the origin of today's Christmas tree tradition.

A Deeper Appreciation for the Season

The more you learn about the various traditions and where they came from, the more meaningful and fun your holiday season will be. Plus, little tidbits like these make for fun conversation at holiday parties and get-togethers!

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10 Interesting Facts About Christmas You Should Know | LoveToKnow

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How much do you know about Christmas? What's a wassail, anyway? And what's the deal with those pickle ornaments? One of the many fun things about Christmas is that so many different cultures put their own twist on the holiday, and that's where some of these quirky traditions come from.