fashionable church, rolling thunders of the organ, fringes of
icicles silvered by moonlight, poor old Salvation Army Santa Claus
shivering outside and tinkling his pathetic little bell. Humane
note: those scarlet Christmas robes of the Army not nearly as warm
as they look. Hard-hearted vestryman, member of old Knickerbocker
family, always wears white margins on his vest, suddenly touched by
compassion, empties the collection plate into Santa's bucket. Santa
hurries off to the S.A. headquarters crying 'The little ones will
bless you for this.' Vestryman accused of having pocketed the
collection, dreadful scandal, too proud to admit what he had done
with it----"

* * * * *

"Christmas Eve in the Ambrose Channel," cried a fourth. "A blizzard
blowing. The pilot boat, sheathed with ice, wallowing in the teeth
of the blinding storm, beats her way up to the lee of the great
liner. The pilot, suddenly taken ill, lies gasping on the sofa of
the tiny cabin. Impossible for him to take the great liner into
port; 2,000 passengers eager to get home for Christmas. But who is
this gallant little figure darting up the rope ladder with
fluttering skirts? The pilot's fourteen-year-old daughter. '_I_ will
take the _Nausea_ to her berth! I've spent all my life in the Bay,
and know every inch of the channel.' Rough quartermaster weeps as
she takes the wheel from his hands. 'Be easy in your mind, Captain,'
she says; 'but before the customs men come aboard tell me one
thing--have you got that bottle of Scotch for my Daddy?'"

* * * * *