he
stable where the Holy Child lay on the first Christmas Eve. There was
the manger, the gilt star suspended over it, and the toy cattle that
Brother Anselmo had carved from wood with his own hands. He had
trimmed the church with greens. Now, Brother Anselmo was ready to ring
the bell, but he had not the strength. He was a very old man and the
bell was heavy. The rope was stiff with ice, and snow blinded him in
the belfry.

Christopher knew Brother Anselmo very well. In the summer he helped
him tend his garden of herbs, and in the winter he brought him fagots.
With his bare feet Christopher climbed up to the belfry. With his
little hands he pulled with all his might at the frozen bell rope.
Then the bell rang out more sweetly than ever before to tell the
village and the Forest that it was Christmas Eve.

But a strange thing happened. As Christopher rang the Christmas bell
once, the trees in the Forest covered themselves with green leaves,
and the ground was no longer bare, but bright with flowers. A flock of
starlings flew to the top of a fir tree and stopped there, singing.
Their feathers glittered with gold and red like jewels, for they were
Paradise starlings.

Christopher rang the bell a second time, and the baby squirrels began
playing among the mosses. There was the smell of newly plowed fields.
The tinkle of sheep and cow bells could be heard, and the pine and
spruce trees covered themselves with red cones, like kings in crimson
mantles.

When Christopher rang the bell a third time, the wild strawberries
began covering the ground, red and ripe. Butterflies as large as
lilies flew through the air, and a bee-hive in a hollow oak dripped
with golden honey. A light like that of noon time in summer streamed
down. The air was soft and warm, and white doves flew through the
Forest singing.

The villagers saw the wonder and they came, running, to the Forest.
The Christmas bell was ringing, but winter was gone. The Forest had
blossomed more beautifully than they had ever known it to in summer.

"What has brought this wonder?" they asked. Then they saw Christopher
coming home. Wherever he walked the ground glowed with more flowers,
and the birds and butterflies lighted on his shoulders, and hands, and
there seemed to be music coming down from the sky.

The whole Goeinge Forest was a Christmas garden for Christopher whom
they had turned away from their doors. They understood that, now,
because the next morning the