Books with title This way to Christmas

I wonder if you know that stories have a way of beginning themselves? Sometimes they even do more than this. They tell themselves—beginning and ending just where they please—with no consideration at all for the author or the reader. Perhaps you have discovered this for yourself; you may have in mind this minute some of the stories that you wished had begun long before they did—and others that ended before you thought they had any business doing so. These have a very unpleasant way of leaving your expectations and your interest all agog; and I have not a doubt that you have always blamed the author. This is not fair. In a matter of this kind an author is just as helpless as a reader, and there is no use in trying to coax or scold a story into telling itself her way. As sure as she tries the story gets sulky or hurt, picks up its beginning and ending, and trails away, never to come back; and that story is lost for all time. You may try it yourself if you do not believe me. Now, if I could have had my way, I should have begun with David in the window nook at dusk-hour, looking out on the Hill Country all white with the gathering snow; and I should have said: “It was the year after last—and the year before next—and just seven days before Christmas—” I have begun this way a hundred times, and every time the same thing happens. The story behaves disgracefully. It will have none of my way. I have actually heard it screaming: “No! I won’t begin there! I won’t—I won’t—I won’t!” After which it always runs for the door. As a result I have become completely cowed and I have given in. I am making believe now (and so must you, for it never does to let a story get in a bad humor) that after all this is the best beginning. It was late fall when David’s world dropped away from him; at least to David that is what seemed to happen. When one loses the very things one always expects to have—big things like mother and father, home and the boys on the block—why, there is not so very much of the world left. To David, speeding toward the Hill Country on the big express with Johanna, it seemed as if there was not enough left to fill even one of the many empty days that lay before him. It had all come about because of father being a scientist. Just what a scientist was David had never felt quite sure, but he knew it meant having a great deal of knowledge and very little time—time for boys. It also meant forgetting things that even David was supposed to remember; things like going to bed, and coming home at dinner-time, and putting on a coat when it was cold, and rubbers when it rained. Mother always laughed at these and said that father was more trouble to look after than David; and she wondered what she would do if the time ever came when she would have to decide between the two of them, and which needed her most. And then, without any warning, that time had come. Very suddenly father came home one night and announced that there was a fresh development of an almost unknown bacillus among the soldiers in the Eastern war zone; it was the chance of a lifetime for a scientist, and he would go as soon as he could pack and make necessary arrangements. The next moment he had plunged into his pocket for his note-book, and only David had seen how white and still mother had grown. When she spoke at last there was a funny little catch in her voice that sounded as if it had tried to be a laugh, but somehow could not manage it.

Stranded in upstate New York with just seven days to go until Christmas, a lonesome boy comes up with an ingenious way to bring Christmas to the equally lonesome inhabitants of his small mountain community, all of whom were spending the winter far from home. Visiting each in turn, David befriends his neighbors and delights in hearing the Christmas stories they share with him, stories they heard in their homelands long ago. A final celebration brings all the neighbors of different nationalities together, forging relationships that will outlast the holiday season and sending a message of hope to a war-torn world. Suitable for ages 9 and up.

Ruth Sawyer's This Way To Christmas tells the story of David, who is sent away from his family because of the first world war. Irish Johanna, David's old nurse, regards the other people on their isolated mountain as heathen. David finds companionship by visiting them, hearing their stories of Christmas, and retelling their stories to his hosts. David, who is younger and less prejudiced, communicates a vision of their shared humanity to his elders. (Goodreads)

I wonder if you know that stories have a way of beginning themselves? Sometimes they even do more than this. They tell themselves—beginning and ending just where they please—with no consideration at all for the author or the reader. Perhaps you have discovered this for yourself; you may have in mind this minute some of the stories that you wished had begun long before they did—and others that ended before you thought they had any business doing so. These have a very unpleasant way of leaving your expectations and your interest all agog; and I have not a doubt that you have always blamed the author. This is not fair. In a matter of this kind an author is just as helpless as a reader, and there is no use in trying to coax or scold a story into telling itself her way. As sure as she tries the story gets sulky or hurt, picks up its beginning and ending, and trails away, never to come back; and that story is lost for all time. You may try it yourself if you do not believe me. Now, if I could have had my way, I should have begun with David in the window nook at dusk-hour, looking out on the Hill Country all white with the gathering snow; and I should have said: “It was the year after last—and the year before next—and just seven days before Christmas—” I have begun this way a hundred times, and every time the same thing happens. The story behaves disgracefully. It will have none of my way. I have actually heard it screaming: “No! I won’t begin there! I won’t—I won’t—I won’t!” After which it always runs for the door. As a result I have become completely cowed and I have given in. I am making believe now (and so must you, for it never does to let a story get in a bad humor) that after all this is the best beginning. It was late fall when David’s world dropped away from him; at least to David that is what seemed to happen. When one loses the very things one always expects to have—big things like mother and father, home and the boys on the block—why, there is not so very much of the world left. To David, speeding toward the Hill Country on the big express with Johanna, it seemed as if there was not enough left to fill even one of the many empty days that lay before him. It had all come about because of father being a scientist. Just what a scientist was David had never felt quite sure, but he knew it meant having a great deal of knowledge and very little time—time for boys. It also meant forgetting things that even David was supposed to remember; things like going to bed, and coming home at dinner-time, and putting on a coat when it was cold, and rubbers when it rained. Mother always laughed at these and said that father was more trouble to look after than David; and she wondered what she would do if the time ever came when she would have to decide between the two of them, and which needed her most. And then, without any warning, that time had come. Very suddenly father came home one night and announced that there was a fresh development of an almost unknown bacillus among the soldiers in the Eastern war zone; it was the chance of a lifetime for a scientist, and he would go as soon as he could pack and make necessary arrangements. The next moment he had plunged into his pocket for his note-book, and only David had seen how white and still mother had grown. When she spoke at last there was a funny little catch in her voice that sounded as if it had tried to be a laugh, but somehow could not manage it.

"A happy and festive choice for toddler lapsits." - School Library JournalBig Bear is carrying a glass Christmas ornament. Fluffy Raccoon has a Christmas star. And Reindeer is dragging along an entire Christmas tree. But where are all the animals going?A delightful story about forest animals celebrating Christmas together. For toddlers ages 24 months and up, with a focus on the child's world.Guided Reading Level H

From the author and illustrator of Night at the Stadium and Day at the Beach comes a modern holiday classic about a chipmunk who has to learn the true meaning of Christmas.It is Christmas Eve and Little Chipmunk asks his mother, “What is Christmas, Mama?” His Mama tells him that Christmas is many things and as they walk together through the woods, Little Chipmunk sees badgers decorating their burrow with bright red berries, ducks exchanging holidays greetings on golden leaves, beetles carrying presents on their shiny backs, and geese singing in the winter sky. Each time he asks his mother if this is Christmas, and each time she answers, that yes, this is part of Christmas. Night falls and Little Chipmunk and his Mama snuggle in to sleep. When he wakes up on Christmas morning, he is surprised by the wonderland that greets him: all the world is blanketed in deep snow. And, then, one by one, Chipmunk and his mother see the geese, the badgers, the ducks, and the beetles, as well as some new forest friends—all gathered to celebrate joy and friendship, beauty and wonder, love and kindness—all of what Christmas truly means.

"I think sir, that mother is right. You see, I'm eight, going on nine; and when a man's that old he ought to be able to look after himself for awhile. Don't you think so?" With these brave words, David let his mother and father go on a long journey, while he stayed with his old Irish nurse in the snow covered hill country. It was just a short time until Christmas and David was a bit worried because he might have a lonely Christmas so far away from "his world."

Sometimes they even do more than this. They tell themselves beginning and ending just where they please with no consideration at all for the author or the reader. Perhaps you have discovered this for yourself; you may have in mind this minute some of the stories that you wished had begun long before they did and others that ended before you thought they had any business doing so.(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)About the Publisher Forgotten Books is a publisher of historical writings, such as: Philosophy, Classics, Science, Religion, History, Folklore and Mythology.Forgotten Books' Classic Reprint Series utilizes the latest technology to regenerate facsimiles of historically important writings. Careful attention has been made to accurately preserve the original format of each page whilst digitally enhancing the aged text. Read books online for free at

This is the town of Bethlehem, with no place left to stay. Joseph and Mary find a place to rest upon the hay. Christmas is an exciting time, especially for little ones! Our Daily Bread for Little Hearts: This is Christmas helps toddlers learn the true meaning of Christmas. Based on Mary and Joseph’s journey to Bethlehem, this adorable book leads children straight to Jesus—the best gift of all!