show the Chinese boys—why, they could have hours of fun together! “ An electric train, Reggie ?” His mother was disturbed. “ Yes, Mother,” said Reggie. “ A new, shiny, electric train!” “ Oh, my boy, such a fine gift would be just impossible! You know all the demands upon us. And even if we could afford it, there aren’t any in the stores!” “ But, Mother, God could send such a train. He has answered lots of our prayers. I am going to ask Him for this. Will you, too?” He pleaded so she dared not refuse. “ Of course, Reggie, but sometimes God answers ‘No’.” Reggie replied with a confident smile, “ He’ll answer ‘Yes’ this time, Mother,” and went off whistling. Now it was Christmas Eve and the missionary’s wife did not know what to do. Certainly that prayer for an electric train had not been answered. How could she explain it to a trusting child? Suddenly, in a kind of desperation, she donned coat and rubbers and made a hasty trip to the stores. It took a while, but finally she came upon a trainry^a little tin engine and set of wooden cars—not much of a train for a big, lively boy, to be sure. “ But it’s the best I can do,” she sighed, as she walked slowly homeward. Christmas morning found the mis sionary’s family gathered about a lit tle tree gay with oranges, shiny paper, and lighted candles. It wasn’t a bril liant tree like those in America, but they loved it. Father handed out the gifts. Reggie’s face shone with joy as a box was given him. His mother’s eyes were upon him as he drew out the pathetic little train. Although his expression changed, a brave smile kept back the tears as he exclaimed, “What a swell present! Thanks, Mom and Dad . . . ” Then he beat a hasty retreat from the room. Although proud of the way he had taken the disappointment, Reggie’s mother nev ertheless began preparations for the Christmas dinner with a heavy heart. In the late afternoon .a knock sounded on the door. Father hurried (Continued on Page 32)
R e g g ie ’s C h r i s t m a s G i f t A True Story By Emily J. Alexander
I T was the night before Christmas far across the sea. The streets were scenes of busy activity. In the stores special sales were in progress, and the clerks were hustling to take care of the customers who were busy selecting dresses, materials, gloves, jackets, and—yes, even candy; for it was nearing Christmas. Even though it was far-off China, many who lived in the cities celebrated the birth of the King, although they did not know the King Himself. They had learned of the birth of the Saviour through the missionaries from Ameri ca. It was far different in the interior where many had never even heard of the meaning of Christmas. So in spite of the poverty of a heathen land, hearts were glad, and even if one had little to spend, it was fun to mingle with the pushing crowd and to select some tiny gifts which would be dearly treasured by loved ones on Christmas morning. Gaily the children ran in and out of the shops, their merry black eyes sparkling with excitement, the be-ribboned pigtails of the girls flying up and down as they happily chased each other. Their con tagious spirit spread to those about them. Along the streets, boys were having a grand time lighting long rows of firecrackers, and now and then the lump in some cheek gave evidence of someone’s having traded his sav ings for a bit of treasured candy. The churches and many of the shops had big colored lanterns hanging above the doorway, and the snow, fall ing in great feathery flakes, gave them a beautiful frosted effect. Yes, Christmas had come to China. Although the hearts of most of her family were happy in anticipation of Christmas, the missionary’s wife was
troubled. She stood looking out of the window, but the sight of the colored lanterns, the decorations, and the smiling faces did not make her happy. She was seeing the serious face of a little boy.—her own son Reggie who the night before had sat staring sol emnly into the open fire. The family had been discussing loved ones in America and how good it would be if they could be with them at Christ mas; but they also were thanking God for the honor of coming to far-off China to tell the people about Jesus. Many boys and girls were attending the Mission Sunday school because they had come. The missionary’s wife was remem bering a conversation of several months ago. “What is it, Reggie ?” she had asked then, “What is troubling my boy?” “Why, nothing, Mother,” he hesi tated, “ . . . that is, nothing much.” His mother reached down and drew Reggie up to the arm of her chair. “ I know, Reggie,” she said. “ It’s Christ mas. What would you like this year?” “ Oh, Mother, I want something very, very special,” Reggie answered, “but I’m afraid it is much too special for a missionary’s son.” “What is it, my boy? Something special is just the thing for a special boy like you,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “ Oh, Mother,” he answered, his voice rising with excitement, “ I’d like a train—a big train—with a whistle —an electric train—and a track— with signals—-and a light on the en gine—and—oh,—one with just every thing!” Reggie’s eyes shone with anticipa tion. Think of a train like those he’d seen in America! How wonderful to
JUNIOR RING'S BUSINESS
By Martha S. Hooker
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