ddenly the
three men remembered another scene long before, when they were bearers
of gold and frankincense and myrrh to another babe.

[Sidenote: He That Loveth Knoweth God]

And while they stood and wondered by the door, there came a strong and
sturdy peasant, broad-shouldered, roughly clad, his face browned in
the sun, his hands hardened with toil. He came and stood beside the
woman, and they bent together over the cradle of the sleeping child,
and the man drew the woman tenderly toward him and kissed her brow.

And still the three men lingered; for behold! the star stood still
above the child, and they dared not speak. But the heart of Gaspard
was saying in silence, "There is something greater than the repeated
miracle of the mass."

And Melchoir was thinking, "There is something mightier even than the
mind; something superior to naked truth."

[Sidenote: For God Is Love]

And Balthazar was confessing to himself that he had found something
more potent even than the righteous deed. For here they all beheld
how life was made sweet and blessed and holy by the power of love; and
by love for a little child, in whom was all weakness and helplessness,
whose only voice was a cry, but who was all strong and mighty with the
power of God, because he could transform roughness into tenderness,
and selfishness into loving care, and poverty itself into gifts of
gold and fragrant myrrh.

"Truly, my comrades," Balthazar said, "love is the greatest of all."

"And now I understand," said Gaspard, "how the weak things of the
world can confound the mighty."

"And I," added Melchoir, "see what it means for God to come to earth
in the form of a little child."

And so they turned away, and the radiance of the star was round about
them, and they were saying to each other: "Our search at last is
ended."

[*] Reprinted with the permission of "The Sketching Club,"
Indianapolis, Ind.

LITTLE GRETCHEN AND THE WOODEN SHOE[*]

By Elizabeth Harrison

Once upon a time, a long time ago, far away across the great ocean, in
a country called Germany, there could be seen a small log hut on the
edge of a great forest, whose fir trees extended for miles and miles
to the north. This little house, made of heavy hewn logs, had but one
room in it. A rough pine door gave entrance to this room, and a small
square window admitted the light. At the back of the house was built
an old-fashioned stone chimney, out of which in winter curled a