The bells are ringing, the churches are opening, and the worshippers hasten to them. The houses are decked with flowers, and the little ones wake early, playing with horns and firecrackers and toys of every kind; they have put on new clothes, eaten the holiday foods and sweets, and received their friends, glad and merry. All this in their own room, or their garden, or the wing of the house set apart for them. But I want to ask: "Where are the parents?" Are they among those who spend their holiday apart, far from the family, in an atmosphere contrary to the spirit of the feast? Did they wake up late after a long evening at a party loud with drink, or around a gaming table, having planned a similar program for the day of the feast itself? Whoever enters such a house, though the outward shows of the feast may dazzle him — flowers and toys and foods and clothes — will nevertheless, if he looks closely, see a feast, but he will not see a family at the feast. The family, made up of parents and children, is the completion of the holidays. It is not enough for your child that you give him presents and lavish gifts upon him. He wants you near him, so that the feast may become a feast. The maid can dress him, feed him, and play with him. But only the mother and the father can make him feel the true feast and understand its meaning; they draw near to his spirit, his thoughts, and his feelings; they pass the time with him in play and amusement; they pray with him; and they make him understand the family spirit.

If the members of the house-hold are to feel, on the day of the feast, that they are a family at a feast,