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
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