Page TWO THE PILOT-r-Southern Pines, North Carolina THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1961 ■LOT Southern Pines North Carolina “In taking over The Pilot no changes are contemplated. We will try to keep this a go^ paper. We will try to make a little money for all concerned. Wherever there seems to an occasion to use our influence for the public good we will try to do it. And we will treat everybody alike.”—James Boyd, May 23, 1941. Best Wishes! “My best of wishes for your merry Christmases and your happy New Years, your long lives and your true prosperities! Wishes worth twenty pound good if they are delivered as I send them. Remember! Here’s a final prescription added. ‘To be Christmas: Warmth and Caring Thoughts range widely at this season— from the Star of nearly 2,000 years ago, remote and majestic, to a baby’s fingers curled around a new toy on Christmas morning, immediate and blessedly com monplace. . At home, in Moore County, over dOO families will eat well on Christmas be cause of the generosity of their neighbors who give to the Christmas Cheer basket program conducted by the welfare depart ment in cooperation with numerous or ganizations and individuals. Away, in a world torn by revolution, men talk of peace while threatened with nuclear destructiveness surpassing the force of any natural disaster visited upon mankind. As we sing, “On earth peace, good will toward men,” a few men have it within their power to murder millions in moments. Yet “good will”—the common, garden Mary^s Song When Virgin Mary rock’d her dear Son, Sweetly she sang there, in her heart was great joy. “Lili, lili, laj! O my babe, my dear one, Lili, lili, laj! O how lovely are you! “Come from the skies here, come, you host of 3n§©lSj Sing to your Lord here, sing your songs to please Him. Lili, lili, laj! O my fragrant rosebud, Lili, lili, laj! In this manger lowly. “Breathe softly, oxen, by the sleeping Child her© Hush! make no sound now, do not wake the dear Child. Lili, lili, laj! Sleep, my Lord, sleep, Lili, lili, laj! Sleep, my only Child, sleep. “No word, my dear Son, no word can you speak now; Surely my heart knows^ all that you would tell me. Lili, lili, laj! God you are incarnate, Lili’ lili, laj! O my Child immortal. “Sleep, sleep, my dear pearl, sleep while, 1 watch o’er you; No care, no sorrow shall disturb your rest here. Lili, lili, laj! My own pearl, my ruby, Lili, lili, laj! Take the sleep you need now." I —Poland The Blessing Of the Kindlincf I will kindle my fire this morning In presence of the holy angels of heaven, In presence of Ariel of the loveliest form. In presence of Uriel of the myriad charms. Without malice, without jealousy, without envy. Without fear, without terror of any one under the sun, But the Holy Son of God to shield me. God, kindle Thou in my heart, within, A flame of love to my neighbour, To my foe, to my friend, to my kindred all. To the brave, to the knave, to the thrall, O Son of the loveliest Mary, From the lowliest thing that liveth. To the Name that is highest of all. Without malice, without jealousy, without envy, ‘ ' Without fear, without terror of any one under the son. But the Holy Son of God to shield me. Translated from the Gaelic by Alexander Carmichael variety of Love—may yet triumph. And it has its symbol, the United Nations, the best hope of achieving peace on earth. We would not begrudge the citizens of this prosperous nation the joys of home and hearth at Christmastide, but now we must look outward with good will, rather than inward with satisfaction—whether considering the needs of our neighbors in Moore County or of .people in the Congo. Most of the words appearing on this page, in poems and anecdotes and obser vations, were written more than a century ago, yet all spring from the same source: human warmth and human caring. One feels this quality in every line of these old songs and stories. If this Christmas page has a message it is this: the warmth and the caring— that’s what counts. That, the very essence of Christmas, can save the world. Born Today Y-blessed be that Lord in majesty, Qui natus fuit hodie. That Lord that lay in asses’ stall Came to die for us all, To make us free that erst were thrall, Qui natus fuit hodie. Well may we glad and merry be, Sith we were thrall and now be free; The fiend, our foe. He made to flee,- Qui natus fuit hodie. And, sith our foe is fled fro us, We may well sing and say right thus: Welcome He be, this Lord Jesus, Qui natus fuit hodie. Now blessed be this Lord benign. That would not His cruel death resign, But for mankind to die undigne, Qui natus fuit hodie. To Noel God Give Ye Merry Christmastide ■r God give ye merry Christmastide, ye gentle people all! And in your merrymaking may no evil chance befdll: Rejoice! for once at Bethlehem, while shepherds knelt to pray. Our blessed Master Jesus Christ was born on Christmas Day! Ye hang the twining wintergreen, the glad home fires ye light. And cheery Merry Christmas keep with hearts and voices bright; But in a stall at Bethlehem, where simple shepherds pray. Our blessed Master Jesus Christ was born on Christmas Day! God give ye merry Christmastide, and give ye all to see— How blessed ’tis to give and know the grace of charity; Rejoice! for once at Bethlehem, to give his life away. Our blessed Master Jesus Christ was born on Christmas Day! — Old England 'tf THE JOVIALITY OF LONG-DEPARTED YEARS Christmas at Bracebridge Hall (From Washington Irving's "Sketch Book") Master Simon led the van as “Ancient Christmas,” quaintly ap parelled in a ruff, a short cloak, which had very much the aspect of one of the old housekeeper’s petticoats, and a hat that might have served for a village steeple, and must indubitably have fig ured in the days of the Coven anters. From under this, his nose curved boldly forth, flushed with a frost-bitten bloom, that seemed the very trophy of a De cember blast. He was accompan ied by the blue-eyed romp, dish ed up as “Dame Mince-Pie” in the venerable magnificence of faded brocade, long stomacher, peaked hat, and high-heeled shoes. The young officer appear ed as Robin Hood, in a sporting dress of Kendal green, and a for aging cap with a gold tassel. The costume, to be sure, did not bear testimony to deep research, and there was an evident eye to the picturesque, natural to a young gallapt in the presence of his mis tress. The fair Julia hung on his arm in a pretty rustic dress, as “Maid Marian.” The rest of the train had been metamorphosed in various ways; the girls trussed up in the finery of the ancient belles of the Bracebridge line. and the striplings bewhiskered with burnt cork, and gravely clad in broad skirts, hanging, sleeves, and full-bottomed wigs, to repre sent the characters of Roast Beef, Plum Pudding, and other worthies celebrated in ancient maskings. The whole was under the control of the Oxonian, in the appropri ate character of Misrule; and I observed that he exercised rather a mischievous sway with his wand pn the smaller personages of the pageant. The irruption of this motley crew, with beat of drum, accord ing to ancient custom, was the consummation of uproar and mer riment. Master Simon covered himself with glory by the state liness with which, as Ancient Christmas, he walked a minuet with the peerless, though gig gling, Dame Mince-Pie. It was followed by a dance of all the characters, which, from its med ley of costumes, seemed as though the old family portraits had skipped down from their frames to join in the sport.'Dif ferent centuries were figuring at cross hands and right and left; the dark eyes were cutting pirouettes and rigadoons; and the days of Queen Bess jiggling merrily down the middle, through a lane of succeeding generations. The worthy Squire contempla- I shall sing with joy and gladness, Now I-have no fear, no sadness, For today our joy we tell, No-Noel. We were sadly troubled then, No-Noel! Leading sheep to pasture lands that day, I and the three other men, No-Noel! Knowing not what punishment we pay For that sin of Adam, God defying. Eating fruit forbidden, dying. ’Twas a deadly sin, they tell, No-Noel! I was seated on the ground, No-Noel! While my friend played on his flageolet. With my flute the fields resound, No-Noel! So we played, our sorrows to forget. Then there came angels from the sky decend- ing. Bringing news of joy unending, All our sorrows they dispel, No-Noel! “Waken, shepherds! Wake,” they said, No- Noel! “All your grief and sadness put away. Seek the Child in manager bed, No-Noel! Of a virgin mother born today. There He rests with but little straw to warm Him, Though the cold and winds may harm Him, In a stable He must dwell, No-Noel!” Then I ran so speedily, No-Noel! That I had no strength to say a word, Ui|til Mary I could see, No-Noel! On her knees before her Child, our Lord, Ox and ass sheltered Him from cold winds blowing, Joseph’s torch above them glowing. All the stall it lighted well, No-Noel! —France O Thou Lovely Night! f O thou lovely night! When in Bethl’hem Jesus, Who saves all people, is born. In the hope that here He has come we’ll seek for Him Through the house on this night. Iron workers, half of us, while the rest of us Work as carpenters here. Then may love and pity our hearts now soften. That off’rings we’ll give to Him. Our good mother has a fine cow in pasture. And there she’s milking it now. The milk’s warm and nourishing; should He like it she’ll Give Him some from her pail. All the men who came down the mountains leapiijig Are like a shepherd who’s old. And who bears a lamb on his shoulders, digging his Heels in earth lest he fall. All the way from Nazareth, straight to Bethlehem, There we went on our knees, In the hope that we might come first to Jesus, Our Master, whom we adore. —Basque ' Whence Comes This Rush of Wings? And all our sweetest music bring.” Whence comes this rush of wings afar. Following straight the Noel star? Birds of the woods in wondrous flight, Bethlehem seek this Holy Night. “Tell us, ye birds, why come ye here. Into this stable poor and drear?” “Hast’ning we seek the newborn King, Angels and shepherds, birds of a sky. Come where the Son of God doth lie; Christ on earth with man doth dwell. Join in the shout, “Noel, Noel!” —17th Century ted these fantastic sports, and this resurrection of his old ward robe, with the simple relish of childish delight. He stood chuck ling and rubbing his hands, and scarcely hearing a word the par son said, notwithstanding that the latter was discoursing most authentically on the ancient and stately dance of the Paon, or Pea cock, from which he conceived the minuet to be derived For my part, I was in continual excite ment, from the varied scenes of whim and innocent gaiety pass ing before me. It was inspiring to see wildeyed frolic and warm hearted hospitality breaking out from among the chills and glooms of winter, and old age throwing off his apathy, and catching once more the freshness of youthful enjoyment. I felt also an interest in the scene, from the considera tion that these fleeting customs were posting fast into oblivion, and that this was, perhaps, the only family in England in which the whole of them were still punctiliously observed. There was a quaintness, too, mingled with all this revelry' that gave it a pe culiar zest; it was suited to the time and place; and as .the old Manor House almost reeled with mirth and wassail, it seemed echo ing back the joviality of long- departed years. Grains of Sand Blessings God give you blessings at Christmas time. Stars for your darkness. Sun for your day, Light on the path as you search for the 'Way, And a mountain to climb. God grant you courage this coming year. Fruit for your striving. Friends as you roam, Joy in your labor. Love in your home. And a summit to clear. Sing Noel Two nice-looking young gals talking in front of the pretend stained glass window showing the carollers, in Patch’s Store: “Pretty, huh?” “UhHUH! Who’s that singing?” “Sounds like the Salvation; Army.” “Them? You mean they’re back in there?” “Must be. Isn’t anybody out side.” “Well, for crying out loud!” Is This Right? Babies are busting out all over the Tots Toggery window decor up at Patch’s corner. Great big Picture Baby smiles out at you surrounded by every imaginable gadget for every imaginable and unimaginable baby purpose. Is this RIGHT? At a time when the world is in a crisis over the population explosion, when we are, so to speak, trying to soothe it down, put the lid on it; at this critical time, here, in a Broad Street window, we find the great est display of Anti Anti-Popula tion-Explosion Missiles ever as sembled! Who’s back of this? Could it be a certain Mr. Claus; that fellow who comes down chimneys? Do's and Don'ts of Old Christmas Be sure to put on your best new clothes, on Christmas Day, but NOT new shoes. They’ll hurt like fury if you do and,just might walk you straight into a bad catastrophe. Don’t wash your clothes on the Friday before Christmas. And don’t wash a Christmas present before you give it, or you’ll wash the good luck right out of it. Eat an apple as the clock strikes midnight on Christmas Eve and, you’ll have good health all the rest of the year. If you let a fire go out on Christmas morning, watch out! Spirits will come. Always start some work be tween Christmas and New Year’s Day, to show your good intentions. That’s important. On the other hand, watch out about mending things. Especially your roof. Even if it leaks then, leave it alone. If you start mon keying with it fnd plugging up the holes, they’ll just open right up again before you can say Jack Robinson—or Santa Claus. Oh-oh . . . Carful! It is reported that a teacher handed back a composition to her, or his, pupil and on it the teacher had written “earless spelling.” It must have been pretty bad. But who cars! We'll Take A Chance By the way, what about this Mr. Claus we’re hearing so much about? He wears a red suit, doesn’t he? And those boots, and white fur around his red cap—kind of Rus sian that get-up, isn’t it? They say he lands on roofs, slides down chimneys, creeps around folks’ houses while they’re asleep drea ming of sugarplums. And when they get onto him he takes the Fifth Amendment and, poof! Up the chimney he goes. What about it? Should the Birchites be alerted? Awfully un- American activities, we’d say. But awfully nice ones. GRAINS will take a chance on Santa. MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYBODY! Ye Create Astonishment Whosoever on ye nighte of ye nativity of ye young Lord Jesus, in ye greate sno-ws shall fare forth bearing a succulent bone for ye loste and lamenting hounde, a wisp of hay for ye shivering horse, a cloak of warm raiment for ye twittering crone, a flagon of red wine for him whose marrow withers, a garland of bright berries for one who has worn chains, gay arias of lute and harp for all huddled birds who thought that song was dead, and divers lush sweetmeats for such babes’ faces as peer from lonley windows: To him shall be preferred and returned gifts of such an astonishment as will rival the hues of the peacock and the harmonies of heaven, so that though he live to ye greate age when man goes stooping and querulous because of the nothing that is left in him, yet shall he walk upright and remembering, as one whose heart shines like a greate star in his breaste. —From “Ye Miracle of Ye Seasons” Boards Head Noel, noel, noel, noel! Tidings good I think to tell. The boar’s head that we bring here Betokeneth a Prince without peer Is born this day to buy us dear. Noel! Noel! A boar is a sovereign beast And acceptable in every feast; So might this Lord be to most and least. Noel! Noel! This boar’s head we bring with song In worship of Him that thus sprang Of a virgin to redress all wrong. Noel! Noel! A Christmas Tree Then the tree was decorated with bright merriment, and song, and dance, and cheerfulness . . . Brilliantly lighted by a multitude of little tapers, it sparkled and glittered every where with bright objects. There were rosy-cheeked dolls, hiding behind the green leaves; and there were real watches (with movable hands, at least, and an endless capacity of being wound up) dangling from innumerable twigs; there were French-polished tables, chairs, bedsteads, wardrobes, eight-day clocks and various other articles of domestic furniture perched among the boughs, as if in preparation for some fairy house keeping; there were fiddles and drums; there were tam bourines, books, work boxes, paint boxes, sweetmeat boxes and a hundred other fascinating trinkets, clustered on the tree like magic fruit, and flashing back the bright looks directed towards it from every side. . . Among the toys and fancies hanging there are the images once associated with other Christmases, the softened music in the night, ever unalterable! Encircled by the social thoughts of Christmas time, still let the benignant figure of my child hood stand unchanged. In every cheerful image and suggestion that the season brings, may the bright star that rested above the poor roof be the star of all the Christian world! —CHARLES DICKENS The PILOT Published Every Thursday by THE PILOT, IncoriMraled Southern Pines, North Carolina 1941—JAMES BOYD—1944 Katharine Boyd Editor C. Benedict Associate Editor Dan S. Ray Gen. Mgr. C. G. Council , Advertising Mary Scott Newton Business Mary Evelyn de Nissoff Society Composing Room Dixie B. Ray, Michael Valen, Thomas Mattocks and James E. Pate. Subscription Rates Moore County One Year ; $4.00 '' Outside Moore County One Year $5.00 Second-class Postage paid Southern Pines, N. Cl at Member National Editorial Assn, and N. 0. Press Assn.

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