Then the other servant spoke, “There is perhaps room in the stable, my lord.”

“Then bear him thither, and bid them give him the best of care.  Go at once.”

So the servants bore Dahvid away, still unconscious from his wounds and made him comfortable on a bed of straw in the stable of the inn.

It was some hours before he came to himself.  When at last he opened his eyes, and his ears began to catch once more the sounds about him, the first thing he heard was a faint cry.

“What is that?” he asked eagerly of Samuel, who was watching beside him.

“That,” said the old shepherd, in tones of mingled joy and reverence, “is the Child the angels told us about, the Child we came to see.  We found him here in the stable, in a manger.”

“And I am not to see him?”

“Yes, you are,” said Samuel, and a grave-faced man brought the Child and laid Him in Dahvid’s arms, the Child for whose coming the people had been longing for a thousand years.

* * * * *

The color at length came back to Dahvid’s white cheeks and strength and health to his limbs and he went back again to the plain.  Old Abraham embraced him, “Forgive me, my son.  I have been a hard master.  Thou hast been very faithful, and for thy reward I make thee lord over all my flocks and half of them shall be thine own.”

So Dahvid became a man of flocks, and all his days he was known among the other shepherds as the one who had held the Christ-child in his arms.  And there was none among them who was thought so brave, and gentle, and wise as the Shepherd Who Didn’t Go.

[*] Reprinted by permission from “The City that Never Was Reached,” by Jay T. Stocking; published by the Pilgrim Press.

PAULINA’S CHRISTMAS[*]

A Story of Russian Life.  Adapted from Anna Robinson’s

Little Paulina

One day, in Russia, there was a heavy snowstorm.  The snow was deep on the ground; and in the forest the branches of the trees bent under its weight.

In this forest a little girl was struggling along.  There was no path for her to follow, for the snow covered all the paths.  The little girl’s name was Paulina.  She was dressed in a long fur coat, and she wore a cap and mittens and gaiters of fur, so that she looked more like a little furry animal than a little girl.  She kept tramping along, not a bit afraid, when suddenly she heard a call for help.

“Help!  Help!” the call came.

“Coming, coming!” she called back.  She went in the direction of the voice and soon she saw a man making his way toward her.  His dress was that of a peasant.

“Will you please direct me out of this forest, little one?” he asked.  “You probably know the paths about.”

“No, I am a stranger here,” Paulina answered.  “I live in Kief—­that is, I did live there; but I am on my way to my father.”