Hello, I am Wendel Kautraels and I am the CEO of Selector Biosciences. Selector has a unique nanoparticle technology, a platform that allows the design and optimization of products, those are vaccines and immunotherapeutics, that will instruct the immune system to address different diseases with high medical need that lack good treatment today. We believe that this technology has the potential to herald a new generation of vaccine applications while also taking existing vaccines to unprecedented levels of effectiveness. Selector is unique by its people, by its scientists in Boston in Moscow, but also by its founders and investors. Selector is unique by its global approach. Our subsidiary in Moscow provides an additional dimension by opening our view and reach early and better into emerging markets. Selector follows a completely novel approach. By combining nanoparticle technology and immunology, we were inspired by the fact that virus can actually be effectively mimicked by Selector's propriety nanoparticles. The immune system is very powerful and will react in very specific ways. Our products don't act directly on the culprit of disease, but instruct the immune system to do that work, harnessing the body's own power. In our nanoparticles we can instruct the immune system to make antibodies or killer T-cells. That's a kind of white blood cells to fight disease. Examples are infections and cancer. We have research programs in, for instance, malaria and in melanoma, and in this category we also have a product under development for smoking cessation. But we can actually do more and better. We can also instruct the immune system to stop reacting when otherwise it would cause disease. Examples are autoimmune diseases, allergies, transplant rejection, and also a neutralization of therapies with biologicals, such as in orphan disease. In this category we already work in the field of type 1 diabetes, food allergies, and hemophilia. So in summary, the combination of nanoparticle technology together with a better understanding of how the immune system works allows us to tackle disease areas with high medical need. But there is still a lot of work to be done in the lab and afterwards in clinical testing, and we are ready to continue that work. Selecta will have a major impact on the world in two significant ways. First, bring answers to very important disease that currently have no good available treatment. A better vaccine for malaria, prevent neutralization of orphan disease treatments, a vaccine for type 1 diabetes, and a vaccine for smoking cessation. Secondly, we can change the paradigm of vaccine manufacturing, from expensive and difficult to transfer fermentation technologies to a synthetic manufacturing process providing more stable products with easier geographical distribution. The latter is not only a scientific and technical matter, but often also a geopolitical matter. Because of these geopolitical aspects, we at Selecta are delighted and honored to be a World Economic Forum Tech pioneer, because it will help us to achieve the exposure that may be required to bring our products to patients around the world more expeditiously.


Natal, pai, alta de Souza, red em português. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Natal, as moças da Serra. É meia noite. O sino ao vissareiro, lá da igrejinha branca pendurado, como num sonho místico e fagueiro vem relembrar o tempo do passado. Ó, velho sino, ó bronze abençoado, na alegria e na mágoa companheiro, tu me recordas o sorrir primeiro de meninos jesus e macolado. Enquanto escuto a tua voz do lente, meu ser que geme dolorosamente da desventura aos gélidos assuites, bebe em teus sons tanta alegria, tanta, sino que lembras uma noite santa, noite bendita, mais que as outras noites. End of Natal, pai, alta de Souza. O suave milagre, pai, essa de queirois, red em português. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. O suave milagre. Nesse tempo, Jesus ainda se não afastara da galileia e das doces, luminosas margens do lago de Tiberiade, mas a nova dos seus milagres penetrara já até Enganim, cidade rica de muralhas fortes entre olivais e vinhedos no país de Issacar. Uma tarde, um homem de olhos ardentes e deslumbrados passou no fresco vale e anunciou que um novo profeta, um rabi formoso, percorria os campos e as aldeias da galileia, predizendo a chegada do reino de Deus, curando todos os males humanos. Um quanto descansava, sentado à beira da fonte dos vergeis, contou ainda que esse rabi na estrada de Magdala sarara da lepra o servo de um decorião romano, só com estender sobre ele a sombra das suas mãos, e que, no outro amanhã, atravessando de uma barca para a terra dos Geracenos, onde começava a colheita do Bálsamo, ressuscitara a filha de Jairu, homem considerável e doto, que comentava os livros na sinagoga. E como em redor assombrados, serreiros, pastores e as mulheres trigueiras com a bíria no ombro, ele perguntassem se esse era, em verdade, o Messias da Judéia e se diante dele refugia a espada de fogo e se ladeavam, caminhando, como as sombras de duas torres, as sombras de Gog e de Magog. O homem, sem mesmo beber daquela água tão fria de que beber a Josué, apanhou o cajado, sacudiu os cabelos e meteu pensivamente por solo aqueduto, logo sumido na espessura das amendoeiras em flor. Mas uma esperança deliciosa como o orvalho nos meses em que canta a cigarra, refrescou as almas simples. Logo, por toda campina que verdeja até Ascalon, o arado pareceu mais branco de enterrar, mais leve de mover a pedra do lagar. As crianças, colhendo ramos de anêmonas, espreitavam pelos caminhos, se além da esquina do muro ou de sobo secômuro, não surgiria uma claridade. E nos bancos de pedras, portas da cidade, os velhos, correndo os dedos pelos fios das barbas, já não desenrolavam, com tão sapiente certeza, os ditames antigos. Ora, então vivia em Ganim um velho, por nome Obed, de uma família pontifical de Samaria, que sacrificara nas aras do Monte Rebal, senhor de fartos, rebanhos e de fartas vinhas, e com o coração tão cheio de orgulho como seu celeiro de trigo. Mas um vento árido e abrazado, esse vento de desolação que é o mando do Senhor, sopra das torvas terras de açur, matara as rezes mais gordas das suas manadas, e pelas encostas onde as suas vinhas se enroscavam ao almo e se estiravam na latada aerosa, só deixara um torno dos almos e pilares despidos, sarmentos de cepas mirradas, e a parra ruída de crespa ferrugem. E Obed, agachada soleira da sua porta, com a ponta do manto sobre a face, palpava a poeira, lamentava a velhice, ruminava queixões contra Deus cruel. Apenas ouvir a porém desse novo rabida galileia, que alimentava as multidões, amedrontava os demônios e mendava todas as desventuras, Obed, homem lido, que viajara na felícia, logo pensou que Jesus seria um desses feiticeiros tão acostumados na Palestina, como Apolônio, o Rabi Bendoça, o Simão, o Sutil. Esses, mesmo nas noites tenebrosas, conversam com as estrelas, para eles sempre claras e fáceis nos seus segredos, como Mavara fugentam de sobressear as os moscardos gerados nos lodos do Egito, e agarram entre os dedos as sombras das árvores, que conduzem, como todos benéficos, para cima das eiras, a hora da sesta. Jesus da galileia, mais novo, com magias mais vicosas, de certo, se ele largamente o pagasse, sustaria a mortandade dos seus gados, reverdeceria os seus venidos. Então, Obed ordenou os seus servos, que partissem, procurassem por toda galileia o rabi novo, e com promessa de dinheiro ou alfaias, o trouxessem a enganim do país de Sacar. Os servos apertaram os cinturões de couro, e largaram pela estrada das caravanas, que, costinhando o lago, se estende até Damasco. Uma tarde, avistaram sobre o poente, vermelho, como uma romã muito madura, as neves finas do Monte Hermon. Depois, na frescura de uma manhã macia, o lago de Tiberia de resplandeceu diante deles, transparente, coberto de silêncio, mais azul que o céu, tudo o lado de prados floridos de densos vergeis, de rochas de pórfero, e de alvos terraços por entre os palmares, sob o voo das rolas. Um pescador, que desamarrava preguiçosamente a sua barca de uma ponta de relva, assombreada de aloendros, escutou, sorrindo, os servos. O rabi de Nazaré, oh, desde o mês de Jarco, o rabi desceira com seus discípulos, para os lados para onde o jordão leva as águas. Os servos, correndo, seguiram pelas margens do rio, até adiante do val, onde ele se estira num largo remanso, e descansa, e um instante dorme imóvel e verde, assombra dos tamarinos. Um homem da tribo dos escênios, todo vestido de linho branco, apanhava lentamente ervas salutárias, na beira da água, com um cordeirinho branco ao colo. Os servos humildemente saudaram-o, porque o povo ama aqueles homens de coração tão limpo, e claro, e cândido, como as suas vestes, cada manhã levadas em tanques purificados. E sabia ele da passagem do novo rabi da Galileia, que, como os escênios ensinava a doçura e curava as gentes e os gados? O escênio murmurou que o rabi atravessara oases de engade, depois se adiantara para a lenha. Mas onde, a lenha? Movendo um ramo de flores roxas que colheram, o escênio mostrou as terras de a lenha em Jordão, a planície de Moab. Os servos vadearam o rio, e de Balde procurava um Jesus, arquejando pelos rudes trilhos até as fragas onde se ergue a cidadela sinistra de Macaúr. No poço de Jacó repousava uma larga caravana, que conduzia para o Egito Mirra, com feciarias e bálsamos de gilheade. E os camelheiros, tirando a água com os baldes de couro, contaram aos servos de Obed, que engadara, pela Lua Nova, um rabi maravilhoso, maior que Davi ou Isaías, arrancara sete demônios do peito de uma tecedeira, e que a sua voz, um homem degolado pelo salteador Barrabás, se ergueira da sua sepultura e recolheira ao seu horto. Os servos, esperançados, subiram logo assodadamente pelo caminho dos Peregrinos, até Gadara, cidade de Altas Torres, e ainda mais longe, até as nascentes de Amália. Mas Jesus, nessa madrugada, seguido por um povo que cantava e sacudia ramos de mimosa, embarcara no lago, num batel de pesca, e a vela navegara para Magdala. E os servos de Obed, discorossuados, de novo passavam o Jordão na ponte das filhas de Jacó. Um dia, já com as sandalhas rotas dos longos caminhos, pisando já as terras da judéia romana, cruzaram um fariseu sombrio que recolhia a Efraín, montado na sua mula. Com devota reverência, detiveram o homem da lei.  E como os servos recuavam ante o seu punho erguido, todo encodilhado de disticos sagrados, furioso doutor saltou da mula, e com as pedras da estrada apedrejou os servos de obede, oivando raca, raca, e todos os anatomas rituais. Os servos fugiram para enganim, e grande foi a desconsolação de obede, porque os seus gados morriam, as suas vinhas secavam, e todavia, radiantemente, como malvorada por detrás de serras, crescia, consoladora e cheia de promessas divinas a fama de Jesus da Galiléia. Por esse tempo, um centurião romano, Púbio VII, comandava o forte que domina o vale de cesareia até a cidade e ao mar. Púbio, homem áspero, veterano da campanha de Tiberio contra os partos, enriqueceira durante a revolta de Samaria com presas e saques, possuía minas na Ática, e gozava, como favor supremo dos deuses, a amizade de Flaco, legado imperial da Síria. Mas uma dor ruía sua prosperidade muito poderosa, como um vermelho e um fruto muito suculento. Sua filha única, para ele mais amada que Vidalbenz, definhava, com um alço tio e lento, estranho mesmo ao saber dos esculápios e mágicos que ele mandara consultar, ácido e atiro. Branca e triste como a lua num cemitério, sem um queixume, sorrindo palidamente a seu pai, definhava, sentada na alta esplanada do Forte, sob um velário alongando saudosamente os negros olhos tristes pelo azul do mar de tiro, por onde ela navegara de Itália numa galera infestoada. Ao seu lado, por vezes, um lejonário entre as ameias apontava vagarosamente ao alto a flecha e varava uma grande águia voando na casa serena, no céu rotilante. A filha de Sétimo seguia um momento a ave tourneando, até bater mortas sobre as rochas, depois mais triste, com um suspiro e mais pálida que começava a olhar para o mar. Então, Sétimo, ouvindo contar a Mercadores de Corazim, deste rabia admirável, tão potente sobre os espíritos, que sarava os males tenebrosos da alma, recocou três decúrias de soldados para que o procurassem por Galileia e por todas as cidades da Decápole até a Costa e até Ascalo. Os soldados enfiaram os escudos nos sacos de Lona, espetaram nos elmos ramos de Oliveira e as suas sandálias ferradas apressadamente se afastaram, ressoando sobre as lages de basalto da Estrada Romana, que desde ces areias até ao lago, cona toda a tetrarquia de Herodes. As armas de noite brilhavam no topo das colinas, por entre as chamam diante dos archotes erguidos. De dia, invadiam os casais, rebuscavam a espessura dos pomares e esforacavam com a ponta das lanças a palha das medas e as mulheres, assustadas para os avançar, logo acudiam com bolos de mel, figos novos e maugas cheias de vinho que eles bebiam de um trago sentados à sombra dos sicômeros. Assim, correram a baixa galiléia e do rabi só encontraram o sul columinoso nos corações. Infastiados com as inúteis marchas, desconfiando que os judeus sonegassem o seu feiticeiro para que os romanos não aproveitassem do superior feitiço, derramavam com tumulto a sua cólera através da piedosa terra submissa. A entrada das aldeias pobres detinam os peregrinos gritando o nome do rabi rasgando os veus as virgens e a hora em que os cântaros se enchem nas cisternas, invadiam as ruas estreitas dos Burgos, penetravam nas sinagogas e batiam sacrilegamente com os punhos das espadas nas tebas, os santos armários de cedro que continham os livros sagrados. Nas cercanias de Ebron arrastaram os solitários pelas barbas para fora das grutas para desarrancar o nome do deserto do Palmarin que se ocultava o rabi e dois mercadores fenícios de jope com uma carga de malóbatro e a quem nunca chegaram o nome de Jesus pagaram por esse delito sem dráquimas a cada decorião. Já a gente dos campos mesmo os bravios pastores de Duméia que levam as rezes brancas para o templo fugiam os pavoridos para as cerranias apenas luziam, na alguma volta do caminho, as armas do bando violento. E da beira dos zeirados as velhas sacudiam com talegos as pontas os cabelos desgrenhados e arrogavam sobre eles as mais fortes invocando a vingança de Elias. Assim, tumultuosamente erraram até Ascalon não encontraram Jesus e retrocederam ao longo da costa enterrando as sandalhas nas areias ardentes. Uma madrugada, perto de ces areias marchando num vale avistaram sobre um outeiro um verde negro bosque de loureiros onde alvejava, recolidamente o fino e claro pórtico de um templo. Um velho de compridas barbas brancas, coroado de folhas de louro vestido com uma túnica cor de assafrão, segurando uma curta lira de três cordas esperava gravemente sobre os degraus de mármore à aparição do sol. Debaixo, agitando um ramo de Oliveira, os soldados bradaram pelo sacerdote. Conhecia ele um novo profeta que surgira na galilheia e tão desce e milagres que ressuscitavam os mortos e mudavam a água em vinho. Serenamente, alargando os braços o sereno velho esclamou por sobrearrociada verdura do vale. Oh, humanos, pois acreditais que em galilheia e judéia apareçam profetas consumando milagres como pode um bárbaro alterar a ordem instituída por Zeus? Mágicos e feiticeiros murmuram palavras ocas para arrebatar a expórtula dos simples. Sem a permissão dos imortais nem um galho seco pode tombar da árvore, nem seca folha pode ser sacudida na árvore. Não há profetas, não há milagres, só apolo-délfico conhece o segredo das coisas. Então, devagar, com a cabeça derrubada como numa tarde de derrota, os soldados recolheram a areia. E grande foi o desespero de sétimo porque sua filha morria sem um queixume olhando o mar de tiro. E, todavia, a fama de Jesus, curador dos langues dos males, crescia sempre mais consolador e fresca como a aragem da tarde que sopra do ermão. E, através dos ortos, reanima e levanta as assucenas pendidas. Ora, entre emganim e ces areia desgarrado, sumido na prega de um serro, vivia a esse tempo uma viúva mais desgraçada mulher que todas mulheres de Israel. O seu filino único, todo aleijado, passara do magro peito a que ela o criara para os farrapos de enxerga podrecida, onde jazeira sete anos passados, mirrando e gemendo. Também a ela, a doença, a engelhara dentro dos trapos mais escura e torcida que uma cepa arrancada. E sobre ambos, especialmente a miséria cresceu, como o bolor sobre cacos perdidos no ermão. Até na lâmpada de barro vermelho secara muito azeite. Dentro da arca pintada, não restava grão ou côdea. No estilo, sem pasto, acaba a morreira. Depois, no quenteiro, secara a figueira. No dia do povoado, nunca esmola de pão o meu entrava o portal. E só ervas apanhadas nas fendas das rochas, cozidas sem sal, nutriam aquelas criaturas de Deus na terra escolhida, onde até as aves maléficas sobrava o sustento. Um dia, um mendigo entrou no casebre, repartiu o seu farnel com a mãe amargurada, e um momento sentado na pedra da lareira, coçando as feridas de um pão no mesmo cesto fazia sete, e amava todas as criancinhas e enxugava todos os prantos e prometia os pobres um grande iluminoso reino de abundância maior que a corte de salomão. A mulher escutava com olhos famintos. E esse doce rabi, esperança dos tristes, onde se encontrava?  Sétimo, tão soberano destacaram seus soldados até a costa do mar para que buscassem Jesus e o conduzissem por seu mando a cesareia. Errando, esmolando por tantas estradas ele topara os servos de Obed depois os legionários de Sétimo e todos voltavam como derrotados com as sandalhas rotas sem ter descoberto em que mata o cidade ou o palácio se escondia Jesus A tarde caía o mendigo apanhou seu bordão desceu pelo duro trello entre a urse e a rocha a mãe retomou seu canto mais vergada mais abandonada e então o filhinho num murmuro mais débil que o rossar de uma asa pediu a mãe que ele trouxesse se rabir, que amava as criancinhas e os saravos males ainda os mais antigos a mãe apertou a cabeça esguedelhada oh filho como queres que te deixe e me meta os caminhos a procura do rabi da galileia Obed é rico e tem servos e debal de buscar um Jesus por areais e colinas desde Corazim até o país de Moab Sétimo é forte e tem soldados e debal de correr um por Jesus desde o Ebron até o mar como queres que te deixe Jesus anda por muito longe e a nossa dor mora conosco dentro destas paredes e dentro delas nos prende e mesmo que o encontrasse como convenceria eu o rabi tão desejado por que ricos e fortes suspiram a que descesse através das cidades até este ermo para sarar um entrevadinho tão pobre sobre enxerga tão ruta a criança e as duas longas lágrimas na face magrinha o rurou oh mãe, Jesus ama todos os pequenos eu ainda tão pequeno e com mal tão pesado que tanto queria sarar e a mãe insoluços oh meu filho como te posso deixar longas são as estradas da galileia e curta piedade dos homens tão rota, tão trôpega, tão triste até os cães me ladrariam da porta dos casais ninguém atenderia o meu recado e me apontaria morada do doce rabi oh filho talvez Jesus morresse nem mesmo os ricos e os fortes o encontram o céu o trouxe o céu o levou e com ele para sempre morreu a esperança dos tristes de entre os negros trapos erguendo as suas pobres manzinhas que tremiam, a criança murou mãe, eu queria ver Jesus e logo abrindo devagar a porta e sorrindo Jesus disse a criança aqui estou end of o suave milagre by essa de queirois the sweet miracle by essa de queirois read in english this is the LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the sweet miracle in those days Jesus had not yet departed from Galilee and the fair luminous margins of the lake of Tiberias but the news of his miracles had already penetrated as far as Anganim a rich city of strong battlements sat among vineyards and olive groves in the country of Issacar one afternoon there passed down the fresh valley a man of burning dazzled eyes who announced that a new prophet a handsome rabbi was traversing the plains and villages of Galilee for telling the coming of the kingdom of God and curing all human ills and while he sat and rested beside the fountain of the orchards he went on to tell how this rabbi had healed the slave of a Roman de Curion of leprosy on the Magdala Road merely by spreading over him the shadow of his hands and how another morning he had crossed by boat to the country of the Gerasenes where the balsam harvest was commencing and had raised to life the daughter of Jairus a man of consideration and learning who expounded the sacred books in the synagogue and when the husband men and shepherds round about and the dark women e as garotas no their shoulders inquired of him in their wonderment if this was in truth the Messiah of Judah and whether the sword of fire shown before him and if the shadows of Gog and Magog like the shadows of twin towers walked on either side of him the men without even a draught of that thrice cold water of which Joshua had drunk took up his staff, shook his hair e made his way pensively beneath the aqueduct and straightway disappeared from sight in the mass of flowering almond trees but a whole delightful as the dew in the month when the grasshoppers sings refreshed these simple souls and now through all the plain that stretches its verger to escalon the plow seemed easier to bury in the soil and the stone of the wine press lighter to move the children even while they plucked bunches of animals watched as they went for a light to rise past the turn of the wall or under the sycamore while they aged from their stone seats at the city gate ran their fingers through the threads of their beards and no longer unfolded the old sayings with such wise certainty as of your now there lived then in Anganem an old man named Obed of a priestly family of Samaria who had offered sacrifices on the altars of Mount Ibal and was possessed of well nourished flocks and richly bearing vineyards and a heart as full of pride as his cellar was full of wheat but a dry burned wind that wind of desolation which at the Lord's command blows from the savage lands of Anganem had slain the fattest beasts of his flocks and on the slopes where his vines twined round the elms and stretched themselves on the graceful frames it had left not round the bear trees and pillars save broken twigs shrunken stalks and leaves eaten by curly blight and Obed squatted at the threshold of his gate with the end of his cloak over his face fingered the dust lamented his old age and ruminated complaints against a cruel God now as soon as he heard tell of the new rabbi of Galilee who fed the multitudes scared demons and repaired all misfortunes Obed, who was a man of books and had traveled in Phoenicia conceived in his mind that Jesus must be one of those soothsayers well known in Palestine like Apollonius or Rabbi Bendosa or Simon the subtle these men, even when the nights are dark hold converse with the stars whose secrets to them are ever clear and simple with a wand they drive the gateflies born in the mud of Egypt from the standing corn and grasping in their fingers the shadows of trees they draw them like kindly screens over the threshing floors of a shirty Jesus of Galilee a younger man with newer charms would, in return for a liberal larges bring the mortality among his flocks to an end and make his vineyards green once more there upon Obed commended his servants to set forth and search through all Galilee for the new rabbi and bring him with promises of money or goods to the country of Issacar his slaves tighten their leather belts and swung out by the road of the caravans that coasts the lake and stretches as far as Damascus one afternoon over against the west, red as a fully ripe palm granite they caught sight of the fine snows of Mount Hermann next amid the freshness of a soft morning the lake of Tiberias shown before them transparent, cloaked in silence more blue than the heavens with its margins of flowery meadows, dense orchards porphyry rocks and white terraces amid the palm groves under the flight of the doves a fisherman who was engaged in lazily untying his bolt from a grassy point shaded by ollyanders listened with a smile to the slaves the rabbi of Nazareth oh, since the month of Echar the rabbi with his disciples had descended to the sides wither the Jordan bears its waters the slaves set out at a run along the margin of the stream until they came in front of the ford where it rests stretching out in a grey pool and for a moment slumbers motionless and green beneath the tamarin's shade a man from the tribe of the Essins clothed from head to foot em white linen was slowly gathering health-giving herbs by the waterside with a white lamkin in his arms the slaves humbly saluted him for the people loved those men of honest, pure hearts as white as the vestures they wash morning by morning in the purified tanks and did he know of the passing of the new rabbi of Galilee who, like the Essins, taught sweetness and cured man and kettle the Essin murmured that the rabbi had crossed the oasis of Angadi and had passed further beyond but where beyond with a bunch of purple flowers he had plucked the Essin pointed to the country over Jordan the plain of Moab the slaves forded the river and sought Jesus in vain toiling breathlessly up the rough tracks cliffs where the sinister citadel of Makawur raises its head at Jacob's well they met a great caravan at rest that was carrying into Egypt, myrrh, spices and balm of Gilead and the camel drivers as they drew out the water in their leather buckets told the slaves of Obed how in Gdera at the new moon a wonderful rabbi greater than David or Isaiah had torn seven devils from the breast of a weaver woman and how at his voice a man whose head had been cut off by the robber-barabbas had risen from the tomb and gone back to his garden the slaves still hopeful straight way mounted in haste by the pilgrim's way to Gdera that city of lofty towers and further on still to the springs of Amalha but that very morning followed by a crowd singing and waving branches of Pimosa Jesus had embarked on the lake in a fishing smack and made his way under sail towards Magdala and the slaves of Obed disheartened passed the fort again by the bridge of the daughters of Jacob one day, as they trod the country of Roman Judea their sandals torn with the long ways they crossed a sombra a Pharisee mounted on a mule who was returning to Ephraim with devout reverence they stopped the men of the law had he met, perchance this new prophet of Galilee who, like a god walking the earth sold miracles as he went the hooked face of the Pharisee darkened in every furrow and his wrath resounded like a proud drum oh, pagan slaves and blasphemers where have you heard of prophets or miracles out of Jerusalem only Jehovah in his temple is mighty ignorant man and imposters come out of Galilee and as the slaves recoiled before his raised fist wrapped round with sacred couplets the furious doctor leapt from his mule and with stones from the road pelted the slaves of Obed consoling, rocker rocker, and all the ritual curses the slaves fled to Enganim and great was the sorrow of Obed because his flocks were dying and his vineyards were scorched and all the time radiant like the dawn behind the mountains the fame of Jesus of Galilee consoling and full of divine promises grew and increased at that time a Roman centurion named Publius Septimus had command of the fort which dominates the valley of Caesarea as far as the city and the sea a rough man and a veteran of Tiberias's campaign against the partians Publius had grown rich with prizes and plunder during the revolt of Samaria he owned mines in Attica and enjoyed as a supreme favor of the gods the friendship of Flecas the imperial legate in Syria but a sorrow gnawed his boundless prosperity even as a warm gnaws at a very succulent fruit his only daughter dearer to him than life and fortune was pining away with a slow subtle melody which escaped even the wisdom of the doctors and magicians then to consult a Tyre and Sidon white and sad like the moon in a cemetery uncomplaining with pallet smiles for her father she grew weaker and more frail as she said on the high esplanade of the fort under an awning and stretched her sad dark eyes with longing regret over the blue of the Tyrian sea by which she had sailed Italy in a rich galley now and then at her side a legendary between the battlements aimed an arrow carelessly aloft and pierced a great eagle as it flew with serene wing in the rediland sky the daughter of Septimus followed the bird for a moment as it turned over and over until it crashed dead on the rocks then with a sigh the father and more pale began once more to gaze at the sea now Septimus having heard the merchants of courtesan tell of this wonderful rabbi whose power over the spirits was such that he cured the dark troubles of the soul dispatched three decuria of soldiers with orders to search for him through galley and in all the cities of the capitalis as far as the coast the soldiers put up their shields in the canvas bags fixed boughs of the olive tree in their helmets and hurriedly departed their iron shot sandals resounding on the basalt slabs of the row and row which cuts the whole tetricate of hered from Caesarea to the lake at night their arms shown out on the tops of the hills amid the waving flames of the torches they bore aloft by day they invaded the homesteads searched through the thickest apple orchards and drove the points of their lenses into the haystacks and the frightened women to appease them hastening in with cakes of honey new figs and boughs full of wine which they drank at one draught as they sat in the shade of the sycamores in this way they traversed slower galley but of the rabbi was his bright track in the hearts of the people wearied with futile marching and suspecting that the Jews were concealing their wonder worker lest the Romans should avail themselves of his superior magic they let loose a tumult of anger as they passed through the pious subject land at the entrance to the bridges they stopped the pilgrims shouting the name of the rabbi tearing the veils from the virgin's faces and at the hour when pitchers are filled at the cisterns they invaded the narrow streets of towns penetrated into the synagogues and beat sacrilegiously with their sword-hills on the thebos the holy arcs of setter which enclosed the sacred books in the environs of hebron they dragged the hermits by the beard from their caves to draw from them the name of the desert where the rabbi was hid and two Phoenician merchants who were coming from Joppa with a cargo of Malobatrim and who had never heard the name of Jesus paid 100 drachmas for the scrying to each the curian and now the peasantry and even the wild shepherds of Idomia who bring in the white beasts from the temple fled in terror to the mountains as soon as they saw the arms of the violent ban glittering at some turn of the road while from the edge of the terraces the old women shook the ends of their disheveled hair like bags and flung ill luck at them invoking the vengeance of Elias in this tumult they wandered as far as Ascalon but failed to find Jesus and returning along the coast they buried their sandals in the burning sands one morning near Caesarea as they were marching in a valley they caught sight of a dark green grove of laurels on a hill among which the elegant bright portico of a temple shone white in its retirement an old man of long white beard crowned with laurel leaves clothed in a serpentoonic and holding a short three stringed lyre was gravely awaiting the rising of the sun on the marble steps down below the soldiers waved a branch of olive and shouted to the priest did he know a new prophet who had arisen in Galilee and who was so clever in miracles that he raised the dead to life and changed water into wine quietly extending his arms the serene old man cried out over the dewey verger of the valley year romans believed that prophets appear as miracles in Galilee or Judea how can a barbarian alter the order established by Zeus magicians and soothsayers are peddlers who murmur empty words to snatch an alms from simple folk without the permission of the immortals not a withered branch can fall from the tree not a dry leaf be shaken there are no prophets no miracles take a polo alone knoweth the secret of things slowly then with heads cast down as after a defeat the soldiers returned to the fortress of Caesarea and great was the despair of Septimus because his daughter was dying and no complained that she utter but gazed as she lay there at the Tyrian sea and all the while Jesus, the healer of lingering maladies grew ever fresher and more consoling like the afternoon breeze that blows from Herman and revives and lifts the drooping lilies in the gardens now between Enganim and Caesarea in a wretched hut sunk in the cleft of a hillock there lived at this time a widow the most miserable of all the women her only son a little boy crippled in every part had passed from the lean breasts at which she had suckled him to the rags of a rotting mattress where he had lain starving and groaning now seven years and her too sickness had shriveled within her never changed rags until she was darker and more contorted than an uprooted vine e over the twain misery had grown thick as the mold over broken potchards lost in a desert even the oil in their red clay lamp had long since dried up and neither seed nor crust was left in the painted chest in the summer their goat had died for lack of pasture next the fig tree in the garden seeds to bear so far were they em any inhabited place that no alms of bread or honey ever entered their door herbs plucked in the fishers of the rocks and cooked without salt were all that nourished those creatures of God in the chosen land where even birds of ill omen had enough and to spare one day a beggar entered the hut and shared his wallet with the sorrowing mother e as he said for a moment at a hearthstone and scratched the wounds in his legs he told of the great hope of the afflicted this rabbi who had appeared in Galilee and of one loaf in a basket made seven and how he loved all little children and dried all tears and promised the poor a great and luminous kingdom of more abundance than the court of Solomon the woman listened with famished eyes e this sweet rabbi this hope of the sorrowful where was he to be found the beggar's sight ha, this sweet rabbi how many had longed for him and been disappointed his fame was going over all Judea like the sun that leaves not even a stretch of old wall without its blessed race yet only those fortunate ones chosen of his will could gain a sight of his fair countenance Obed, the rich had sent his slaves throughout all Galilee to search for Jesus and bring him with promises to enganim Septimus, the powerful had dispatched his soldiers as far as the sea coast to find Jesus and conduct him by his orders to Caesarea as he wandered and bagged his bread on many a road he had met the slaves of Obed and then the legionnaires of Septimus and all had returned like beaten men their sandals torn without having discovered the wood or city, hovel or palace where Jesus lay hid the evening was falling the beggar took up his staff and descended by the hard track between the heather and the rocks while the mother returned to her corner more cast down and desolate than before and then in a murmur weaker than the brush of a wing her little son packed his mother to bring him this rabbi who loved even the poorest little children and healed even the longest sicknesses the mother clasped his tangled head and said oh my son how can't thou ask me to leave thee and set out on the road in search of the rabbi of Galilee Obed is rich and have slaves and in vain they sought Jesus over hills and through sandy plains from Corism to the country of Moab Septimus is mighty and have soldiers yet in vain they hunted for Jesus from Hebron to the sea how can't thou ask me to leave thee Jesus is a far off and our grief abided with us within these walls and prisons us between them e were I to meet with him how should I persuade as long for rabbi for whom the rich and mighty sigh to come down from city to city as far as the solitude in order to cure such a poor little impotent on such a rag mattress but the child with two long tears on its thin little face murmured mother Jesus' love with all the little ones and I am still so small and have such a heavy sickness and should so like to be cured to which the mother sobbing child of mine how can I leave thee the roads of Galilee are long and the pity of men is short so ragged so limping so sorrowful am I that even the dogs would bark at me from the homestead doors none would give ear to my message none would show me the dwelling plates of the sweet rabbi and my child perhaps Jesus is dead for not even the rich or the mighty meet with him heaven sent him heaven have taken him away and with him the hopes of the sorrowful have died forever the child raised his trembling little hands from out of his dark rags and murmured mother I want to see Jesus and immediately opening the door slowly and smiling Jesus said to the child I am here end of the sweet miracle Quem pastores lauda verre qui vos angeli dicere apsid vubis yam timere natus estrexclor adquemre Quem pastores lauda verre qui vos angeli dicere apsid vubis yam timere natus estrexclor adquemre Jesus I am portaban I am portaban end of the sweet miracle Lill's Travels in Santa Claus Land by Ellis Town, Sophie May and Ella Farman, read in English. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Effie had been playing with her dolls one cold December morning, and Lill had been reading, until both were tired. But it stormed too hard to go out, and as Mrs. Pellerine had said they need not do anything for two hours, their little jaws might have been dislocated by yawning before they would as much as pick up a pin. Presently Lill said, Effie, shall I tell you a story? Oh yes do, said Effie, and she climbed up by Lill in the large rocking chair in front of the great. She kept very still, for she knew Lill's stories were not to be interrupted by a sound or even a motion. The first thing Lill did was to fix her eyes on the fire, and rock backward and forward quite hard for a little while, and then she said, Now I am going to tell you about my thought travels, and they are apt to be a little queerer, but oh ever so much nicer than the other kind. As Lill's stories usually had a formal introduction, she began, once upon a time, when I was taking a walk through the great field beyond the orchard, I went way on, round where the path turns behind the hill. And after I had walked a little way, I came to a high wall, built right up into the sky. At first I thought I had discovered the ends of the earth, or perhaps I had somehow come to the great wall of China. But after walking a long way, I came to a large gate, and over it was printed in beautiful gold letters, Santa Claus land, and the letters were large enough for a baby to read. How large that might be, Lill did not stop to explain. But the gate was shut tight, she continued, and though I knocked and knocked and knocked, as hard as I could, nobody came to open it. I was dreadfully disappointed, because I felt as if Santa Claus must live here all of the year except when he went out to pay Christmas visits. And it would be so lovely to see him in his own home, you know. But what was I to do? The gate was entirely too high to climb over, and there wasn't even a crack to peek through. Here Lill paused, and Effie drew a long breath and looked greatly disappointed. Then Lill went on. But you see, as I was poking about, I pressed a bell spring, and in a moment, jingle, jingle, jingle, the bells went ringing far and near, with such a merry sound as was never heard before. While they were still ringing, the gates slowly opened, and I walked in. I didn't even stop to inquire if Santa Claus was at home, for I forgot all about myself and my manners. It was so lovely. First there was a small paved square like a court. It was surrounded by rows and rows of dark green trees, with several avenues opening between them. In the center of the court was a beautiful marble fountain, with streams of sugar plums and bonbons tumbling out of it. Funny-looking little men were filling cornucopias at the fountain, and pretty little barefoot children, with chubby hands and dimpled shoulders, took them as soon as they were filled and ran off with them. They were all too much occupied to speak to me, but as I came up to the fountain, one of the funny little fellows gave me a cornucopia, and I marched on with the babies. We went down one of the avenues, which would have been very dark, only it was splendidly lighted up with Christmas candles. I saw the babies were slyly eating a candy or two, so I tasted mine and they were delicious, the real Christmas kind. After we had gone a little way, the trees were smaller and not so close together, and here and there were other funny little fellows who were climbing up on ladders and tying toys and bonbons to the trees. The children stopped and delivered their packages, but I walked on, for there was something in the distance that I was curious to see. I could see that it was a large garden that looked as if it might be well cared for and had many things growing in it, but even in the distance it didn't look natural, and when I reached it I found it was a very uncommon kind of a garden indeed. I could scarcely believe my eyes, but there were dolls and donkeys and drays and cars and croquet coming up in long straight rows and ever so many other things beside. In one place the wooden dolls had only just started, their funny little heads were just above ground and I thought they looked very much surprised at their surroundings. Farther on were china dolls that looked quite grown up and I suppose were ready to pull, and a gardener was hoeing a row of soldiers that didn't look in a very healthy condition or as if they had done very well. The gardener looked familiar, I thought, and as I approached him he stopped work, and leaning on his hoe he said, how do you do, Lillian? I am very glad to see you. The moment he raised his face I knew it was Santa Claus, for he looked exactly like the portrait we have of him. You can easily believe I was glad then. I ran and put both of my hands in his, fairly shouting that I was so glad to find him. He laughed and said, why I am generally to be found here or here abouts, for I work in the grounds every day. And I laughed too because his laugh sounded so funny, like the brook going over stones in the wind up in the trees. Two or three times when I thought he had done he would burst out again, laughing the vowels in this way. Lill did it very well, and Effie laughed till the tears came to her eyes, and she could quite believe Lill when she said, it grew to be so funny that I couldn't stand, but fell over into one of the little chairs that were growing in a bed just beyond the soldiers. When Santa Claus saw that he stopped suddenly saying, there that will do, I take a hardy laugh every day for the sake of digestion. Then he added in a whisper, that is the reason I live so long and don't grow old. I've been the same age ever since the chroniclers began to take notes. And those who are best able to judge think I'll continue to be this way for about 1,876 anos longer. They probably took a new observation at the centennial, and they know exactly. I was greatly delighted to hear this, and I told himself. He nodded and winked and said it was all right, and then asked if I'd like to see the place. I said I would, so he threw down the hoe with a sigh saying, I don't believe I shall have more than half a crop of soldiers this season. They came up well, but the arms and legs seemed to be weak. When I get to town I'll have to send out some girls with glue pots to stick them fast. The town was at some distance, and our path took us by flower beds where some exquisite little toys were growing, and a hot bed where new varieties were being propagated. Pretty soon we came to a plantation of young trees with rattles and rubber balls and ivory rings growing on the branches, and as we went past they rang and bounded about in the merrius sort of a way. There's a nice growth, said Santa Claus, and it was a nice growth for babies, but just beyond I saw something so perfectly splendid that I didn't care about the plantation. Well, said Lil impressively, seeing that Effie was sufficiently expectant. It was a lovely growth. The trees were large with long drooping branches, and the branches were just loaded with dolls' clothes. There were elegant silk dresses with lovely sashes of every color. Just here Effie couldn't help saying, oh, for she had a weakness for sashes. Lil looked stern, and put a warning hand over her mouth and went on. There was everything that the most fashionable doll could want growing in the greatest profusion. Some of the clothes had fallen, and there were funny looking girls picking them up and packing them in trunks and boxes. These are all ripe, said Santa Claus, stopping to shake a tree, and the clothes came tumbling down so fast that the workers were busier than ever. The grove was on a hill so that we had a beautiful view of the country. First there was a park filled with reindeer, and beyond that was the town, and at one side a large farmyard filled with animals of all sorts. But as Santa Claus seemed in a hurry I did not stop long to look. Our path led through the park, and we stopped to call Prancer and Dancer and Donder and Blitzen, and Santa Claus fed them with lumps of sugar from his pocket. He pointed out Comet and Cupid in a distant part of the park. Dasher and Vixen were nowhere to be seen. Here I found most of the houses were Swiss cottages, but there were some fine churches and public buildings, all of beautifully illustrated building blocks, and we stopped for a moment at a long depot in which a locomotive was just smashing up. Santa Claus's house stood in the middle of the town. It was an old-fashioned looking house, very broad and low, with an enormous chimney. There was a wide step in front of the door shaded by a fig tree and grapevine, and morning glories and scarlet beans clambered by the side of the lattice windows, and there were great round rose bushes with great round roses on either side of the walk leading to the door. Oh, it must have smelled like a party, said Effie, and then subsided, as she remembered that she was interrupting. Inside the house was just cozy and comfortable, a real grandfatherly sort of a place.  A great pack half made up was on the floor, and Santa Claus stopped to add a few things from his pocket. Then he went to the kitchen and brought me a lunch of milk and strawberries and cookies, for he said I must be tired after my long walk. After I had rested a little while, he said if I liked I might go with him to the observatory.  After Santa Claus had taken the boxes out and put them in the pack, he said slowly, let me see. He laid his finger beside his nose as he said it, and looked at me attentively, as if I were a sum in addition, and he was adding me up. I guess I must have come out right, for he looked satisfied, and said I'd better go to the mine first, and then join him in the observatory. Now I am afraid he was not exactly polite not to go with me himself, added Lil gravely, but then he apologized by saying he had some work to do. So I followed the little fellow with the wheelbarrow, and we soon came to what looked like the entrance of a cave, but I suppose it was the mine. I followed my guide to the interior without stopping to look at the boxes and piles of dishes outside. Here I found other funny little people, busily at work with picks and shovels, taking out wooden dishes from the bottom of the cave, and china and glass from the top and sides, for the dishes hung down just like stalactites in mammoth cave. Here Lil opened the book she had been reading and showed Effie a picture of the stalactites. It was so curious and so pretty that I should have remained longer, said Lil, only I remembered the observatory in Santa Claus. When I went outside I heard his voice calling out, Lilian! Lilian! It sounded a great way off, and yet somehow it seemed to fill the air just as the wind does. I only had to look for a moment, for very nearby was a high tower. I wonder I did not see it before, but in these queer countries you are sure to see something new every time you look about. Santa Claus was standing up at a window near the top, and I ran to the entrance and commenced climbing the stairs. It was a long journey, and I was quite out of breath when I came to the end of it.  There was a lady sitting by a golden desk writing in a large book, and Santa Claus was looking through a great telescope, and every once in a while he stopped and put his ear to a large speaking tube. While I was resting he went on with his observations. Presently he said to the lady, Put down a good mark for Sarah Buttermilk. I see she is trying to conquer her quick temper. Two bad ones for Isaac Clapper-Tung. He'll drive his mother to the insane asylum yet. Bad ones all around for the crossley children. They quarrel too much. A good one for Harry and Alice Pleasure. They are quick to mind. And give Ruth Olive ten for she is a peacemaker. Just then he happened to look at me and saw I was rested, so he politely asked what I thought of the country. I said it was magnificent. He said he was sorry I didn't stop in the greenhouse, where he had wax dolls and other delicate things growing. I was very sorry about that, and then I said I thought he must be very happy to own so many delightful things. Of course I am happy, said Santa Claus. And then he sighed. But it is an awful responsibility to reward so many children according to their desserts. For I take these observations every day, and I know who was good and who was bad. I was glad he told me about this, and now if he would only tell me what time of day he took the observations, I would have obtained really valuable information. So I stood up and made my best courtesy, and said, please sir, would you tell me what time of day you usually look? Oh! he answered carelessly, any time from seven in the morning till ten at night. I am not a bit particular about time. I often go without my own meals in order to make a record of table manners. For instance, last evening I saw you turn your spoon over in your mouth. And that's very unmenorly for a girl nearly fourteen. Oh! I didn't know you were looking, said I, very much ashamed, and I'll never do it again, I promised. Then he said I might look through the telescope, and I looked right down into our house. There was mother very busy and very tired, and all of the children teasing. It was queer, for I was there too, and the baddest of any. Pretty soon I ran to a quiet corner with a book, and in a few minutes mama had to leave her work and call, Lillian, Lillian, it's time for you to practice. Yes mama, I answered, I'll come right away.  He put me in a tiny sleigh, and away we went over great snow banks of clouds, and before I had time to think I was landed in the big chair, and mama was calling, Lillian, Lillian, it's time for you to practice, just as she is doing now, and I must go. So Lill answered, yes mama, and ran to the piano. Effie sank back in the chair to think.  But when she asked about some of them afterwards, Lill said she didn't know, for the next time she had traveled in that direction, she found Santa Claus land had moved. End of Lill's Travels in Santa Claus Land Read by Jan McGillivray. Schweyer, Red and German. This is a LibroVox Recording. All LibroVox Recording's are in the public domain. For more information and volunteer please visit LibroVox.org. Weihnachtszauber. Ungewöhnlich lange dauerte es diesmal. Das ganze Schmucke neue Haus duftete schon von Tannenkron und Wachskerzen, und noch immer klang die Glocke nicht. Das liebe silberhelle Glöcklen, das na einmal des Jahres erklingt, na einmal ruft und jubelt, am Christabend. Wieder und wieder glaubten sie es zu hören, denn sprangen sie auf, lauschten und liefen vor die Tür, enttäuscht kehrten sie zurück in das trauliche halb-dunklieres Zimmer, und überließen sich wieder der drengvoll Süßenungeduld und froer regenden Erwartungsfreude. Und immer wieder ging die kindliche Fantasie durchwärmt von heller Herzenslust und durchschauert von erföchtigen Empfindungen ihre grausen Wege. Tastend jetzt und zerk auf den dunklen verschlossenen Türen vorbei. Jetzt je aufliege den Sonnenland des Märchenhaften, einer aufgescheuchten Schab und der Vögel in gleich, die im Sonnenglanz verschwinden, als hätte sich ihnen überschnellene unsichtbare Pforte aufgedan und rasch wieder verschlossen hinter den Scheuend Florenen.  Sechs Uhr schon, rief klein Ellie betroffen, um die Zeit war des Christkind immer schon da bei uns. Ja mein Gott, meinte alt glugter fast achtjährige Otto der älteste, jetzt wo wir da draußen wohnen, wird wohl noch später. Ja, hauchte Ellie und ihre Augen wurden groß dabei. Und Norbert der jüngste Lissens Spielzeug fallen, startte die beiden größeren schier angstvoll an und sagte traurig. Noch später? Alle drei se intenten sich in dieser Stunde zurück, in die enge aber trauliche Wohnung, drinnen in dem großen Stadthauser, hoch troben im letzten Stockwerk. Erst als Otto daran erinnerte, dass der Vater nie so heiter war wie jetzt, wo sie hier wohnten in den schönen Räumen des kleinen eigenen Hauses, als dann versönten sich die kleinen Zöndenden wieder mit dem neuen Heim. Und noch alles neu und vor nehm sie anrief.  Wie warst doch drinnen in der Stadt Anders, im mitten der lieben alten Möbel diese alle kannten, und die ihnen allerlei zu erzählen wussten, aus der Geheimnis voll Morgendämmerungeres Darsens. Freilich der Vater kam dort oft mit drüben minen Helm, und ging stumm in sein Kemmerlein. Dann wanderte die Mutter still von der Küchens Zimmer und ruhelos wieder zurück.    Ein Glücks vollbrachte mit einem male Sonnenkland in das Nebelumflorte Sorgenleben des kleinen Kinder gesegneten Beamten. Schier betäubte Wahl von der Größe und Blödsigkeit dieses Glücks.  Und allen seinen eigenen Wünschen Erfüllung bieten. Dabei ging er aber oft über das gebotene Maus vornem ein Schönheit zinnz hinaus und verletzte dadurch das zarte Feingefüll seines Weibes.  Dass sie fort und sorglos leben, dass sie sich dieses Häuschen bauen und sich frogemut der Stunde hingeben konnten, das war alles. Das war viel, unendlich viel für Herma's Seelenheitere Art. Aber es war wenig in den Augen der Welt, die nur aufs äußerliche Sied und nicht annen kann, wie unsagbareiche ein armes Menschen herd sein kann, tieftrennen in der Brust. Und Herma war Reich gewesen, von jeher, und hielt doch Konrad, inem bisher so schweigsame Mann für innerlich Reich und Seelentief. Und nun mußte sie sehen wie er brotste, wie er Großtat vor allen leuten, das T.D.W., und sogar der Zweifel bekam allgemach Gewalt über sie. Sie fragte sich, ob ihers Mannes Gemüt wirklich so schlicht sei, und so tief bescheiden, als es ihr Bies erschien, und sie es liebte.  Heimlich wünschte sie oft, es wäre geblieben wie früher. Liebe Herr Trager und Tulden, lieber sich beugen in Sorgen und Kümmernissen, aber innerlich frosehen können. Vertrauen stolz fro und stark in der Überzeugung, in sich einen Schatz zu Tragen, den uns niemand rauben kann, in sich ein Feuer brennen zu wissen, das doch nichts auf dieser Welt ganzer löschen und ganzer kalten kann. Die Liebe zueinander und desgroße tiefherzbeglückende Vertrauen, das solcher Liebe entspringt. Und jetzt tu alles Gutinnen entsprießen, alles edle blühen konnte, wo sie aus dem Sumpf für kleinlicher Gemeiner Alltag Sorgen auf festes sicheres Land gerettet warn, jetzt sollte sie erkennen müssen, dass ihers Mannes Gemüt sei, seine Gesinnung Oberflächlich sei? Auf Wiederholter Bemerkungen, die ans Entferngefüll gerichtet warn, hatte er nur ein Lachen, das in seiner selbstsicheren Unbefangenheit Hermann Weertat als etwa eine Schroffe Abweisung.  Sie wollte abwarten, e er sie zum offenen Kampf überging, oder still verzichtete? Er aber lebte fro in den Tag hinein und antewoll kaum, was seine Frau heimlich so tief bedrückte. Erst am Weihnachtsabend, als Hermann voller tief Verstimmung in der Zimmer ging und erwartungsfro jene Lade aufzug, wo sie den lange treu bewarten Weihnachtsschmuck verbarg und der rasch der Zwischentretend ihr verwerte, den alten Tand nochmals auf den Baum zu hängen, drückten ihm die ersten Herben, drenen den Glanz seines jungen Glücks. Hermann se entfern fühlen des Weibweinte, je und unbezingbar. Er sah sie an wie vom Donner gerührt. Sie aber wishte sich die salzige Flut rasch von den Wangen, schobte Lade zu und ging von ihm weg, still, wortlos, ohne ihn an zu sehen.  Still verrichtete sie diese Arbeit an seiner Seite, unfro mit unlust schweren Händen. Und wenn sich ihre Blicke begegneten senken sie sich rasch oder glitten an den Ander vorbei, wie ein Etwas Unleben. Auch ihm ging nichts recht aus den Händen und in seine Seele kam eine seltsame Unruhe, ein beklemmendes Mannen und Beengstigen des Drängen, die Vorboten der Reue. Überall dem ver ging viel Zeit und darum werte es heutes ungewöhnlich Lange und mit den nun verpönden lieben alten Dingen beschäftigte sich unter dessen die heiserigte Fantasie der Kinder. Seit Jahren kehrten sie geheimnisvoll wieder, glänzten und straalten, glitzerten und funkelten aus dem Tannengrün und verschwanden nach dem heiligen Drei König Tage ebenso geheimnisvoll wieder. Wohin? Das Griskind hat sie wiedergeholt, sagte die Mutter, dem Griskind gehören sie ganz allein und dieses bringe sie immer in das selbe Haus und verwechsel sie nie. Und je öfter es des selben Sachen, den gleichen Kindern bringe, desto lieber habe es diese.  Mit heiliger Scheu sahn sie jedes Mal zu dem funkelten Sternenpor, der immer hoch oben am Gipfel des Baumes prankte und sich oft zell zum leise bewegte, als wehe übel jadischer Hauch um minher, oder aus ihm heraus. Und darunter des Griskindle mit dem Goldscheine und des blond gelockte Haupt. Es lächelte und nickte größtend herab auf seinen lieblichen Wangen lagen rosiger Schimmer, aus seinen großen blau Augen kamen leuchten, unfassbar geheimnisvoll. Diese zwei heiligtümer hatten die Kinder nie in der Nähe geschaut, nie in den Händen gehabt. Und keines hatte es je gewagt, auch nur den Wunsch zu äußern sie herunter zu holen. In den viel vertrollicheres Verhältnis kamen sie allgemach zu den tiefe in den zweigen hängenden Schaustücken. Sie betasteten sie mit Scheuer Neugierde, streicheten sie, nahmen sie wohl öfter behutsam herab, und hingen sie aus eigenem Antriebe, oder bedeutsen von der Mutter gemahend wieder an ihrem Platz. Dorthin, wo sie mit zarten fingern das Griskindlen selbst gehangen hatte, und jedes Kindn am Geistig Besitz von einen bestimmten Gegenstande, der im besonders lieb war. Des Sommers oft, wenn drüber regentage sie in die Stubebanden, sprachen sie unvermutet von allen Geheimnisvollen Sachen.  Mit heißen Wangen und leuchtenden Augen fand, dassierte sie eben wieder von ihrem kleinen Liebling und behauptete plötzlich, dass Liebe Püppchen sei zweifellosen Spielzeug, mit dem im Himmeltroben Lily, das verstorbene Schwesterlein spielen dürfe, im mitten der scharfolicher Englern.  Eine Pausetrat ein. Alle drei sind schaurig still vor sich hin, als sehen sie das von übeirdischem Schimmer um flossene Schwesterlein vor sich sitzen und mit Englern spielen. Plötzlich brach Otto des klingende Singende schweigen. Du Ellie, sagt ihr liebhaft, weißt du was ich glaub, wo mein Paradiesvogel immer ist? Dein Paradiesvogel, den kleinen Meinst an dem Baum? Ja den, der dem Griskind gehört und so viele Farben hat zu Schöne. Nun wo soll er denn sein, doch auch im Himmeltroben beim Griskind, nicht? Oh nein, ich glaub, dass der immer ein wirklich herlebendiger Vogel ist, ein großer. Ja, ich hab ihn einmal fliegen sehen. Fliegen hast du ihn sehen, rief Ellie, der heilige Schauer des Wunderbahn doch bebte sie.  Und das Traumbilder einer weißen Glanz nach Kün mit Dichtung mengend, fu er fort. Und weißt du wo er war? Auf der Erde herunden war er und hat nachgeschaut ob wir alle brav sind. Und wisste was er macht? Den Regenbogen machte. Ja, mit seinem schönen langen Schweif machte ihn. Darum hatte so viele Farben, weißt du? Er hatte sich ganz heiß geredet und fühlte sich unsagbar beclügt, als er sah, wie Ellie sprachlos darstand, desser staunens und verwunderns übervoll. Ja, glaubst du es vielleicht gar nicht? rief der kleine Dichter endlich gekränkt, als Ellie gar nicht zerwiderte, und immer mit grossen Augen wie Traumhoft vor sich hinschautte. Aber freilich glaub ich's, sagt sie sich jetzt voll elfer. Ich sees ja, wirklich war ich sees.  Ja, und wo ist denn da mein Bibi Han immer? Oh, wer weiß, wie's demer gangen ist? Sagt der Otto großartig kühl, du hast dem ja den Schnabel abgebrochen. Oh nein, verteidigte Ellie den jüngsten, dessen Gesicht sich weinerlich verzog. Wie der schöne kleine Han zum zweitmal gekommen ist, hatte den Schnabel schon abgebrochen gehabt. Weißt du's denn ne ma? Ja, meinte Otto nun, wer weiß wo er rum gerauft hat und mit weem.  Auf dem klugen weißen Elefanten ritten sie doch ferne Wunderländer, jagten auf der langbeinigen Scheraffe, doch die schaurige Öde der Wüste, und durch Schwame mit dem schwarzen Walfisch, auf des unge Heuersrücknen im zierlichen Häuschen geborgen, des unendliche Meer. Immer heißer wurden ihre Wangen, immer größer verlangen, wieder das zu sehen, was das Christkindlein nur für sie bestimmt hatte und immer wieder nur zu ihnen brachte. Und sie nahmen sich vor mit den kleinen Dingen, die sie für verzauberte Lebewesen hielten recht lieb umzugehen und fragten sich, obwohl dies und das heuer hängen werde, erinnerten sich wie sie im vorigen Gehr hin und fruer.   Zum Essen ruft der Vater und das Christkind entäus standen sie radlos da, drenen stiegen sachte in ihre Augen und nochmal schrillte die Glocke.  Ja Kinder hörde denn nicht, was Christkind leutet? Jetzt klang und sang und rief und jubelte aus dem groß und schönen Zimmer auch wirklich das silbehelle Glöcklen. Die Mutter konnte es sich nicht versagen, als wenigstens an diesen Punkte zu gutter Letz zu halten wie immer bisher.  Sie stürmten in das Zimmer, graden ein und standen Muxmäuschen still vor dem großen Baume, der schönen und glänzend war wie keiner vorher. Aber von des Baumes Wipfel herab schimmerte ein anderer Stern, schöner zwar, als sie jenen sahen, aber nicht der gewohnte, der liebe und verheissungsvolle Stern. Und der hing steif und still und rötte sich nicht, wie sie auch hinaufschauten. Und ein anderes Christendlein blickte nieder, lieblich wohl und überall schön, aber es lächelte nicht so vertraut, wie das, das immer da troben niedergrößte.  Staunend, missmutig fast, sah der Vater den Kinder und zu, die hilfluss befangen von der schönen Wirklichkeit darstanden und sich ihrer nicht selbst vergessen freuen konnten, weil sie nicht um glänzendum Sponnen war von der Poesie und ihre Seelen unbewuscht schwelgten. Mit einem Scheunblick auf den Vater tat zwar Otto so, als ob'sn über alle Maßen freute, es kam ihm aber nicht recht von Herzen. Norbert war der Erste, der laut jubelte, als ihm der Vater ärgerlich halb und halb verschäm zagte, der schöne große Hutpferd gehöre ihm.   Es wollte nicht der besieligende Rausch der Selbstvergessenheit über sie und ihre mit enttäuschten Brüderchen kommen. Endlich fragte sie, huelos bedrängt die Mutter heimlich und leise, so dass der Vater es nicht hören sollte, aber doch wohl hörte. Mutter, hat uns denn das Christkind nicht mehr lieb? Die Mutter verstande, schloß das aufgeregte Töchterle ein war man ihre Brust und flüsterte er zu. Das Christkind wolle ganz gewissener sehen, ob es den Kinder noch wirklich leidtur, wenn sie nicht mehr fänden, dass es ihnen allein gehörre. Das sagte Ellie schnell und insgehem dem Brüdern. Die brachen im lautes Freuden geschrei aus und Otto wurde zum Propheten. Über eine Nacht und das Christkind könne wiederbringen, was sie so liebten, heute noch vielleicht.   Alsnacher die drei kleinen, huelosen wie den das Zimmatraten wo der Baum stand, brachen jubelos, sondergleichen. Droben am Baum Zipfel glänze der liebe alte Stern und webte und bewegte sich selzum geheimnis voll wie immer. Und unter ihm größte das liebe alt gewohnte Christkindle nieder, frohlich wie noch nie. Und Ellie fand ihre Puppe. Otto senden Flugkühnen Sonnenvogel und Norbert den stolzen Hahn mit dem abgebrochenden Schnabel. Der Elefant war da. Der langhalsige Scherafe, der treuende Wahl und alles andere auch, wie immer zuvor. Und nun sank echte tiefer hellige Weihnachtstimmung in die Seelen der Kinder und der Eltern. Frau Hermann aber ging leisenschrittes und befreiten Herzens auf Konrad ihren Garten zu, der von den Rauchwolken seiner Zigarraschiertraum auf dem Hüld in einer halbdunklen Zimmer-Ecke sin den Saas.  Und jetzt? Jetzt war ein Misklang in den Festkubel gekommen, hatte ein Kühler Hauch den Glanz des Abends getrübt. Ein Misklang fragte er sich selbst und in seinem Herzen regte es sich warm und weich. Abwärend aber stellten sich trotzige Gedanken davor. Da kam Frau Hermann lächelte ihn an. Wie leichtes gewölk im Sonn im Brande verschwanden nun jene glückwändlichen Gedanken, und sein Herzen tat sich auf. Weid und fro und tief. Aber er wählt sich still, San und es Sonnige lächeln, das er so sehr kannte.  Trotz mutig er nur ungewissen Zukunft entgegen. Se erfaste seine Hand und drückte sie warm, dabei flüsterte sie. So soll's immer bleiben, nicht wahr? Ja, antwortete er schnell und setste er hastig hin zu. Ich scheme mich.  Und jetzt, jetzt hätt ich bald der Meelthau des Platten für Listerthums drübergeschüttet. Verzei mir, es waren die Bocksprünge des Glück berauschten, der Übermord des Befreiten.  Im Weihnachtszauber hab ich mich selbst wiedergefunden. Frau Hermann erwiderte nichts, verlinte nur erhaupt an seine Brust und drückte wieder seine Hand. Ihr Auge war feucht geworden, und der Herz erglütte in dem Fron Bewusstsein, ihr ungedrücktes Glücken ihrer und ihres meines Brust, vertraunstag gefestig zu wissen gegen alle Stürme des Lebens. Dieses großen Stolz und Gefühls voll gingen sie schweigen zu den Kindern.  End of Weihnachtszauber bei Adolf Schveier, red bei Ellie. All Liebervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Liebervox.org. Mrs. Gratz opened her eyes and looked out at the drizzle that made the Christmas morning gray. Her bed stood against the window, and it was easy for her to look out. All she had to do was to roll over and pull the shade aside. Having looked at the weather she rolled again on to the broad flat of her back and made herself comfortable for a while, for there was no reason why she should get up until she felt like it. Such a Christmas, she said good-naturedly to herself. I guess such weather's as bad for Santa Claus. Maybe it is because of such weather's he don't come by my house. I don't blame him, so muddy. She let her eyes close indolently. Not yet was she hungry enough to imagine the tempting odor of fried bacon and eggs, and she idly slipped into sleep again. She wasn't no hurry. She was never in a hurry. What is the use of being in a hurry when you own a good little house and have money in the bank and are a widow? What is the use of being in a hurry anyway? Mrs. Gratz was always placid and fat, and she always had been. What is the use of having money in the bank and a good little house if you are not placid and fat? Mrs. Gratz lay on her back and slept, placidly and fatly, with her mouth open, as if she expected Santa Claus to pass by and drop a present into it. Her dreams were pleasant. It was no disappointment to Mrs. Gratz that Santa Claus had not come to her house. She had not expected him. She did not even believe in him. Yes, she had told Mrs. Flannery next door, as she handed a little parcel of toys over the fence for the little Flannery's. Once I believe in such a Santa Claus myself yet. I make me pretty good times then. But now I'm too old. I don't believe in such things. But I make pretty good times still. I have a good little house and money in the bank.  She smelled imaginary bacon frying. She felt real hunger. She slid out of bed and began to dress herself, and she had just buttoned her red flannel petticoat around her wide waist, when she heard a silence and paused. For a full minute she stood, trying to realize what the silence meant. The English sparrows were chirping as usual and making enough noise, but through their bickering the silence still annoyed Mrs. Gratz. And then, quite suddenly again, she knew. Her chickens were not making their usual morning racket. I bet you I know what it is, sure! She said, and continued to dress as placidly as before. When she went down she found that she had won the bet. A week before two chickens had been stolen from her coop, and she had had a strong padlock put on the chicken house. Now the padlock was pried open and the chicken house was empty, and nine hands and a rooster were gone. Mrs. Gratz stooped and entered the low gate, and surveyed the vacant chicken-yard placidly. If they were gone, they were gone. Such a Santa Claus, she said, good-naturedly. I don't like such a Santa Claus taking away and not bringing. Pretty soon he don't have such a good name any more if he keep up doing things like this. People likes the bringing Santa Claus. I guess they don't think much of the taking away business. He gets a bad name quick enough if he does this much.   It was a purse of worn black leather, soaked by the drizzle, but still holding the bend that comes to men's purses when worn long in a back trouser pocket. One end of the purse was muddy and pressed deep into the soft soil where a heel had tramped on it. Mrs. Gratz bent and picked it up. There was nine hundred dollars in bills in the purse. Mrs. Gratz stood still while she counted the bills, and as she counted her hands began to tremble, and her knees shook, and she sank on the door sill of the chicken house and laughed until the tears rolled down her face. Occasionally she stopped to wipe her eyes, and the flood of laughter gradually died away into ripples of intermittent giggles that were like sobs after sorrow. Mrs. Gratz had no great sense of humor, but she could see the fun of finding nine hundred dollars. It was enough to make her laugh, so she laughed. Goodness! Such a santicloss! She exclaimed with a final sigh of pleasure. Such a Christmas present from santicloss! No wonder he is so fat, yet when he eats ten chickens in one night already. But I don't kick. I like me that santicloss all right. I believe in him pretty good after this, I bet. She went at once to tell Mrs. Flannery, and Mrs. Flannery was far more excited about it than Mrs. Gratz had been. She said it was the hand of retribution paying back the chicken-thief, and the hand of justice repaying Mrs. Gratz for sending toys to the little Flannery's, and pure luck giving Mrs. Gratz what she always got, and a number of other things. Tis a luck a ye, Mrs. Gratz, ma'am, she said. In often I do be saying it is the dutch for luck, meaning no disrespect to ye, and the fatter the luckier, as I often told me old man, rest his soul in him so thin. A Christmas morning at that, ma'am, which is nothing at all but the judgment of heaven on the dirty chicken-thief, picking such a day for his thieven when there's plenty other days in the year for him. Keep the money, ma'am, for it is yours by good rites, and I knew there would be some good come till ye, the minute ye handed thee the presents for the kids.  And who do you suspicion was, Mrs. Gratz, ma'am? I think maybe I got me a present from Santa Claus, yes, said Mrs. Gratz. And here the woman, said Mrs. Flannery, do ye hear that now? Well, true for ye, ma'am, and stick to it, for there's no telling who'll be claiming the money, and if ever Santa Claus brought a thing to a mortal soul, it was him brought ye that, and it was only yesterday, ye was saying ye had no belief in him. Yesterday I don't have no beliefs in him, said Mrs. Gratz. Today I have plenty of beliefs in him. I like him plenty. I don't care if he comes every year. Sure not, said Mrs. Flannery, and you with the nine hundred dollars in your pocket. I'd be glad of the chance. I'd believe in him myself for four hundred and fifty. That afternoon Mrs. Flannery, whose excitement had not abated in the least, went over to Mrs. Gratz's to spend the afternoon talking to her about the money. She felt that it was good to be that near it at any rate, and when one can make a whole afternoon's conversation out of what Mrs. Casey said to Mrs. O'Reilly about Mrs. McNally, it is a shame to miss a chance to talk about nine hundred dollars. Mrs. Flannery was rocking violently and talking rapidly, and Mrs. Gratz was slowly moving her rocker and answering him mono syllables when someone knocked at the door. Mrs. Gratz answered the knock. Her visitor was a tall, thin man, and he had a slouch hat, which he held in his hands as he talked. He seemed nervous, and his face wore a worried look, extremely worried. He looked like a man who had lost nine hundred dollars. But he did not look like Santa Claus. He was thinner and not so jolly looking. At first Mrs. Gratz had no idea that Santa Claus was standing before her, for he did not have a sleigh bell about him, and he had left his red cotton coat with a white batting trimming at home. He stood in the door playing with his hat, unable to speak. He seemed to have some delicacy about beginning. Well, what it is, said Mrs. Gratz. Her visitor pulled himself together with an effort. Well, ma'am, I'll tell you, he said frankly. I'm a chicken buyer. I buy chickens. That's my business. Dealing in poultry. So I came out today to buy some chickens. On Christmas day, asked Mrs. Gratz. Well, said the man, moving uneasely from one foot to the other. I did come on Christmas day. Didn't I? I don't deny that, ma'am. I did come on Christmas day. I'd like to go out and have a look at your chickens. It ain't so usual for buyers to combine chickens on Christmas day, is it? Interposed Mrs. Gratz, good-naturedly. Well, no, it ain't. And that's a fact. Said the man uneasely. But I always do. The people I buy chickens for is just as apt to want to eat chicken one day as another day. And more so. Turkey on Christmas day and chicken the next for a change. That's what they always tell me. So I have to buy chickens every day. I hate to, but I have to. And if I could just go out and look around your chicken-yard. It was right there that Mrs. Gratz had a suspicion that Santa Claus stood before her. But I don't sell such a chicken-yard yet, she said. The man wiped his forehead. Sure not, he said nervously. I was going to say look around your chicken-yard and see the chickens. I can't buy chickens without I see them, can I? Some folks might, but I can't with the kind of customers I've got. I've got mighty particular customers. And I pay extra prices so as to get the best for them. And when I go out and look around the chicken-yard.  Asked Mrs. Gratz. Well, I'll tell you, said the man. Seven cents a pound is regular. Aided? Well, I pay twelve. I'll give you twelve cents, and pay you right now, and take all the chickens you've got. That's my rule.  But I won't pay twenty cents without I can see the chickens first. Sure, said Mrs. Gratz. I wouldn't do it too. Maybe I go out and bring in a couple such chickens for you to look at, yes? No, don't, said the man impulsively. Don't do it. It wouldn't be no good. I've got to see the chickens on the hoof, as I might say. On the hoofs, said Mrs. Gratz. Such poultry don't have no hoofs. Running around, explained the visitor, running around in the coop. I can tell if a chicken has got any disease that my trade wouldn't like, if I see it running around in the coop. There's a lot in the way a chicken runs, in the way it heists up its leg, for instance. That's what the trade calls on the hoof. So I'll just go out and have a look around the coop. For twenty cents a pound, anybody could let buyers see their chickens on the hoof, I guess, said Mrs. Gratz. Now that's the way to talk, exclaimed the man. Only but I ain't got any such chickens, said Mrs. Gratz. So it ain't of use to look how they walk, so goodbye. Now say, said the man, but Mrs. Gratz closed the door in his face. I guess such a sandy claws come back yet, said Mrs. Gratz when she went into the room where Mrs. Flannery was sitting. But it ain't any use, he don't leave many more such presents. The impudence of him, exclaimed Mrs. Flannery. For nine hundred dollars I could be imputed too, said Mrs. Gratz calmly. But I don't like such nowadays sandy clauses coming back all the time. Once when I believe in sandy clauses they don't come back so much. The thin sandy clause had not gone far. He had crossed the street and stood gazing at Mrs. Gratz's door, and now he crossed again and knocked. Mrs. Gratz arose and went to the door. I believe he comes back once yet. She said to Mrs. Flannery and opened the door. He had indeed come back. Now see here, he said briskly. Ain't your name Mrs. Gratz? Well, I know'd it was, that I know'd you was a widow, lady, and that's why I said I was a chicken buyer. I didn't want to frighten you, but I ain't no chicken buyer. No, asked Mrs. Gratz. No, I ain't. I just said that so I could get a look at your chicken-yard. I've got to see it. What I am is chicken-house inspector for the ninth ward, and the mayor sent me up here to inspect your chicken-house. And I've got to do it before I go away or lose my job. I'll go right out now, and it'll all be over in a minute. I guess it ain't some use, said Mrs. Gratz. I guess I don't keep any more chickens. They go too easy. Yesterday I have plenty, and today I haven't any. That's it, said the thin Santa Claus. That's just it. That's the way tuberculosis bugs act, quick like that. They're a bad epidemic, tuberculosis bugs is. You see how they act.  Goodness! exclaimed Mrs. Gratz without emotion. With the fetters and the bones too? Sure, said the thin Santa Claus, why them tuberculosis bugs is perfectly ravenous. Once they get started they eat feathers and bones and feet and all. Chicken hasn't no chance at all. That's why the mayor sent me up here. He heard all your chickens was gone, and gone quick, and he says to me, tuberculosis bugs.   You go and do it, or you're fired, see.  And fetters? Asked Mrs. Gratz calmly. No, he didn't say feathers. This ain't nothing to fool about. It's serious.  Said Mrs. Gratz carelessly. I ain't afraid of such bugs in winter time. Well, that's where you make your mistake. Said the thin Santa Claus. Winter is just the bad time for them bugs. The more a tuberculosis bug freezes up, the more dangerous it is. In summer they ain't so bad. They're soft like and squash up when a chicken gets them. But in winter they freeze up hard and get brittle. Then a chicken comes along and grabs one, and it busts into a thousand pieces, and each piece turns into a new tuberculosis bug and busts into a thousand pieces, and so on.  When a chicken snaps up one tuberculosis bug, it has a million in it inside of half an hour, and that chicken don't last long. And when the bugs make for the house, what's that on your dress there now? Mrs. Gratz looked at her arm indifferently. Nothing, she said. I thought maybe it was a tuberculosis bug had got on you already, said the thin Santa Claus. If it was you would be all eat up inside of half an hour. Them bugs is awful rapacious. Yes, inquired Mrs. Gratz with interest. Such strong bugs too, is it not? You bet they are strong, began the stranger. I should think so, interrupted Mrs. Gratz, to smash up padlocks on such chicken houses. You make me afraid of such bugs.  I guess not. Well, you see, you see, said the thin Santa Claus puzzled, and then he cheered up. You see, I ain't afraid of them. I've been fumigated against them. Fumigated and anti-skept... anti-skepticized. I've been vaccinated against them by the Board of Health. I'll show you the mark on my arm if you want to see it. No, don't, said Mrs. Gratz.  There ain't nothing there. The thin Santa Claus paused and looked at Mrs. Gratz with suspicion. Why, did you find it? he asked. Find what? asked Mrs. Gratz innocently, and the thin Santa Claus sighed and walked around to the back of the house. Mrs. Gratz went with him. As Mrs. Gratz watched the thin man search the chicken yard for tuber-closis bugs, all doubt that he was her Santa Claus left her mind. He made a most minute investigation, but he did it more as a man might search for a lost purse than as a health officer would search for germs. He even got down on his hands and knees and poked under the chicken house with a stick. And when he had combed the chicken yard thoroughly and had looked all through the chicken house, he even searched the denuded vegetable garden in the backyard and looked over the fence into Mrs. Flannery's yard. Evidentely, he was not pleased with his investigation, for he did not even say good-bye to Mrs. Gratz, but went away looking mad and cross. When Mrs. Gratz went into her house, she took her seat in her rocking chair and began rocking herself calmly and slowly. It was him done it, sure, said Mrs. Flannery. I don't like such come-again's much, said Mrs. Gratz placidly. I try me to believe in such a Santa Claus, but I like not such come-again's. In Germany, did not Santa Claus come back so much. I don't like a Santa Claus should be so anxious. Still, I believe in him, but if he has too many such come-again's, I don't believe in him much. I would be setting the police on him Santa Claus or no Santa Claus, said Mrs. Flannery vindictively. The mean chicken thief. Oh, said Mrs. Gratz easily. I guess I don't care much should at $900 Santa Claus steals some chickens. I ain't mad. But she was a little provoked when another knock came out the door a few minutes later and went on opening it, she saw the thin Santa Claus before her again. So, she said, Santa Claus is back yet once. What's that? Asked the man suspiciously. I say what is it you want? Said Mrs. Gratz. Oh, said the man.  I'm a going to tell you right out what I am and who I am.  I guess I know right where you can find one. Said Mrs. Gratz politely. Now don't be funny, said the thin Santa Claus peevishly. Maybe you notice I didn't say nothing when you spoke about that padlock being busted. Maybe you noticed how careful I looked over your chicken coop and how I looked over the fence and to the next yard. Well, I won't fool you.  Them was just my detective disguises. I'm out detecting a chicken thief. Just a plain ordinary chicken thief and what I come for is clues. Yes, said Mrs. Gratz. And what is it such clues? I haven't any clues. The thin Santa Claus seemed provoked. Now look here, he said. You may think this is funny, but it isn't. I have got to catch that chicken thief or I'll lose my job. And I can't catch him unless I have some clues to catch him with.  Chickens, asked Mrs. Gratz. No, no I didn't have chicken stolen. Such tuber-closest bugs eat them with fetters, too. And bones, right off the hoofs, ain't it a pity? It may have been a blush of shame, but it was more like a flush of anger that overspread the face of the thin Santa Claus. He stared hard at the placid German face of Mrs. Gratz and decided she was too stupid to mean it, that she was not teasing him. You don't catch on, he said. You see, there ain't any such things as tuber-closest bugs. I just made that up as a sort of detective disguise. Them chickens wasn't eat by no bugs at all. They was stole. See? A chicken thief come right into the coop and stole them. Do you think any kind of a bug could pry off a padlock? Mrs. Gratz seemed to let this sink into her mind and to revolve there, and get the feeling at home before she answered. No, she said at length. I guess not, but Santa Claus could do it.  Why you began the thin man crossly, and then changed his tone. There ain't no such thing as Santa Claus. He said as one might speak to a child, but even a chicken thief would not tell a child such a thing, I hope. No, queried Mrs. Gratz, sadly. No, Santa Claus. And I was scared of it myself with such tuber-closest bugs around. He should not to have gone into such a chicken coop with so many bugs busting up all over. He had a right to have fumigated himself once. And now he ain't.  The thin Santa Claus frowned. He had half an idea that Mrs. Gratz was fooling with him, and when he spoke it was crisply. Now see here, he said.  I know that. And he's been stealing chickens all around this town and all around this part of the country too, and I know that. And this stealing has got to stop. I've got to catch that thief. And to catch him I've got to have a clue. A clue is something he has left around or dropped where he was stealing. Now, did that chicken thief drop any clues in your chicken-yard? That's what I want to know. Did he drop any clues? Maybe, if he drops some clues, those tuberculosis bugs eat them up. Suggested Mrs. Gratz. They eat bones and fetters. Maybe they eat clues too. Now, ain't that smart? Sneered the thin Santa Claus. Don't you think you're funny? But I'll tell you the clue I'm looking for. Did that thief drop a pocket book or anything like that? Oh, a pocket book, said Mrs. Gratz. How much should be in such a pocket book, maybe? Nine hundred dollars, said the thin Santa Claus properly. Goodness! exclaimed Mrs. Gratz. So much money all in one clue. Come out to the chicken-yard once. I'll help hunt for clues as two. The thin Santa Claus stood a minute looking doubtfully at Mrs. Gratz. Her face was large, implacid and unemotional. Well, he said with a sigh. It ain't much use, but I'll try it again. When he had gone, after another close search of the chicken-yard in Coop, Mrs. Gratz returned to her friend, Mrs. Flannery. Pretty soon I don't believe any more in Santa Claus at all, she said. Pretty soon I have more beliefs in chicken-thiefs than in Santa Claus. Yet a while I believe in him, but one more of those come again than I don't. He'll not be coming back any more, said Mrs. Flannery positively. I'm wondering he came at all, and the jail's so handy. All you have to do is to call a cop. Sure, said Mrs. Gratz. But it is not nice I should put Santa Claus in jail.  Have it your own way, ma'am, said Mrs. Flannery. Alone to some different when chicken's a stall.  Santa Claus or no Santa Claus. Not but what you have a kind heart anyway, ma'am. Not wanting to put the poor fellow in jail when he has already lost nine hundred dollars. Which goodness knows, you might have to hand back. Was the law to take a hand in it? So, said Mrs. Gratz, such is the law yet. All right, I don't believe in chicken-thiefs, no matter how much he comes again. I stick me to Santa Claus. Always will I believe in Santa Claus. Chicken-thiefs gives and wants to take away again, but Santa Claus is always given and never taking. You're forgetting the chickens that was took, suggested Mrs. Flannery. Took, said Mrs. Gratz. Tookin, Mrs. Flannery corrected. Tooked, said Mrs. Gratz. I believe me not in Santa Claus that way. I believe she is a good old man. Forgivings, I believe in Santa Claus, but for takings, I believe in tuberculosis bugs. And the busted padlock, then, asked Mrs. Flannery. Ach, exclaimed Mrs. Gratz. Them reindeer's is so frisky yet. They have a right to kick up and bust it, maybe. Mrs. Flannery sighed. Tis a grand thing to have faith, ma'am, she said. Yes, said Mrs. Gratz indolently. That's nice. And it is nice to have $900 more in the bank. Ate it. The end of The Thin Santa Claus.


So it's comparing that to the actual uh miles as well. Now notice if we if we do that standard mileage rate we can still add parking fees and tolls so I can go back on over here. I can't add all the other kind of maintenance stuff but parking fees and tolls if I tack on you know if I was I had a I had a rough year I'm put a thousand for parking fees and tolls because I just don't care where I park I park I'll just I get to deduct it man so then you could see it increase by by another five thousand or that one thousand to five thousand eight hundred and forty. Okay so if we did the actual method we could put it into the depreciation schedule and try to do both of these and let the software kind of pick the one which would be most favorable but you got to be careful on doing that because it might be favorable in year one to do the direct write-off method but then in year two to do the mileage method but you can't do that oftentimes because the iris is skeptical of of you doing that because the reason you would do that is because the depreciation method sometimes you're going to try to use an accelerated depreciation method in year one which means you're going to you're going to deduct more in year one so they want consistency a little bit of consistency in the methods that are being used so but let's like let's take a look at that I'm going to delete this piece and I'm going to go into the deductions and let's go into our depreciation thing here now I'm just going to put a generic truck here but note in practice you would want to have the make model year of the truck possibly the license plate number that becomes really important anytime you're doing some kind of depreciation schedule because even though it might not cause a problem in the current time frame in the future when you sell the truck or do something to it or any piece of equipment you need to be able to identify the piece of equipment that is actually on hand to what's on the depreciation schedule in order to take the appropriate action from the depreciation schedules and that's a lot easier to do if you're quite detailed in the descriptions when you put them on the books so I'm going to say this is schedule c or form 2106 we're going to get more into depreciation in future presentations so I'm just going to I'm not going to dive into it in too much detail just to show the difference between the two methods here for the auto and then we'll dive into depreciation more in the future I'm going to say this is as of 010122 the cost now note that the higher the cost of the vehicle the more likely then it might be more beneficial you would think to do a direct write-off method because the depreciation is going to be more substantial if you bought the truck for like five thousand dollars or something like that it's more likely that over the life of the truck you might want to use the mileage method for example and if you bought the truck for a more a higher amount let's say sixty thousand it's more likely you're going to be benefiting from the the the direct write-off method because the depreciation might be substantial although it could be limited then we got the 179 we'll talk about later and the special depreciations which we'll talk about later but note that when we get into the depreciation you have to basically apply the proper depreciation method to the type of equipment that you have in this case an automobile so we have five-year property makers that has auto limitations and then we've got the straight line for auto limitations now and then we've got the five-year six thousand pounds uh with with the limits applied so it gets a little bit messy in terms of the of the item to apply to to pick just note that if it's over six thousand pounds you've got a big truck then it might be thought of more as a piece of equipment as opposed to the mile to the a standard automobile and therefore you might have less limitations when you're thinking about uh maximizing the amount that you can get for uh depreciation they're going to be they're going to be more skeptical with a just a a car that you're driving around to visit clients or stuff like that because you would think that if you could do that if you were to just do that for business you can get a pretty cheap car or cheaper car to handle the that kind of thing and if you're driving a two hundred thousand dollar car just to drive to different places then they're going to be skeptical of that that's why you might have auto limitations here so and then if it's so you could pick the straight line or i'm going to pick the five-year with the auto limitations okay so that's gonna we might dive into that more detail 179 and future presentations for the depreciation but for now we just want to compare and contrast these two methods so then i'm going to go down here and i'm going to go to the car there it is and i'm going to say did we want use a vehicle be available for our duty no other vehicle vehicle is used primarily that's i'm going to say that's true employers know and then i'm going to put the mileage in here in a similar way as we did before because if we did not use this car a hundred percent for business then the mileage is going to be a way that they're going to do a ratio type of analysis so let's this time say that that we drove it for 15 000 total and let's say that that we're going to imagine that we drove it 80 80 percent for business so i'm going to say if it was 15 000 times 0.8 that's going to be 12 000 divided by two so let's say we drove it 6 000 and 6 000 community miles i'll say is a thousand and okay so now all these other expenses will also become relevant down here so the parking fees let's just say it was 60 this time the the gas lube and whatnot let's say our 700 repairs let's say our let's say our 3 40 tires 140 let's say insurance insurance 3 90 miscellaneous auto license 100 personal property interest and so on all these other items down here are possibly things that we can ride off the primary one often being of course the the gas so now we're trying to depreciate the cost of the car which we have to allocate over the life of the car but we might get some front loaded depreciation due to the depreciation schedules of the tax code instead of a straight line depreciation and we get these costs of us expenditures above that like the gasoline and the repairs and whatnot so let's go back on over and see what we calculate here so now we've got our depreciation schedules being calculated if i go to the schedule c then notice we've gotten the car and truck to 1 396 but also we've got this huge number down here for the depreciation right of the 15 360 now so obviously that's a lot larger than what we had before in the mileage method if i look at the comparison between the two i could say okay the the total mileage 15 000 this time we said 6000 and 6000 each for a total of 12 000 that's an 80 percent business versus personal because we're saying 12 000 business versus personal that percentage is going to be applied then to both the mileage method and the direct method


This is a way that I teach addition to my students. I'm going to show you the materials that I need to do this activity. I have a pencil, I have the plus symbol, I have the tiles which are the counters and I have a little sheet where they're going to write the problem and the pouch has already problems that are already written in little cards like 2 plus 2. When you want to do this activity you can use all kinds of other things like beads or marbles. Friends, we are going to learn to do addition with tiles.  So I'm going to write 4 plus 3. Then I'm going to take my tiles 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 3, 1, 2, 3. Now let's see what my answer will be 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. So 4 plus 3 equal to 7 to put my tiles back here. Then I'm going to put my problem in this little pouch and then I get to take this home. Would you like to try one please? Sure. Would you like to try one please? Get your problem out. 4 plus, now you get your tiles. What's your answer? 1. Wonderful.