That only night in all the year
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear.
The damsel donned her kirtle green;
The hall was dressed in holly green;
Forth to the wood did merry men go
To gather in the mistletoe."

Then opened wide the baron's hall
To vassal, tenant, serf and all.
Power laid his rod of rule aside,
And ceremony doffed his pride.
The heir with roses in his shoes,
That night might village partner choose;
The lord, underogating, share
The vulgar game of "Post and pair."

All hailed with uncontrolled delight
And general voice the happy night,
That to the cottage, as the crown,
Brought tidings of salvation down.

From "Marmion"

WALTER SCOTT

HOW ST. BONIFACE KEPT CHRISTMAS EVE

IT

T was the day before Christmas in the year of our Lord seven hundred and twenty-four. How peaceful and quiet was the valley of the Weser that cold winter afternoon! Along the banks of the river flowing so silently under its fringes of ice, broad snow fields lay glistening white, touched here and there to pale blue, rose color or purple by the crimson glory of the setting sun. The steep, rugged hills, with their mantles of pine and fir, threw long shadows down their eastern slopes, while just above the forest treetops a pale young moon was beginning to show against the clear evening sky.

Along the edge of the forest already in deep shadow, forsaken by the sun, a little company of men might have been seen slowly wending their way through the deep snow. At the head of the band was a tall stalwart figure clad in the long black cloak and the broad hat of a priest, the bishop's cross upon his breast. His tunic was fastened high to his belt so as not to hinder his stride, his strong heavy boots were bound tight about his legs with strips of skin and in his hand he carried a stout staff.

His handsome young face was earnest and thoughtful, his clear blue eyes keen and fearless, his cheeks, ruddy and brown from exposure to the sun and wind, were glowing with health and his step even on the rough path was firm and sure. He was evidently a traveler of experience, a man of strength, of courage and determination.

This was the great Wilfred of England, who had lately

been consecrated Bishop by Pope Gregory II, receiving the name of Boniface, "Good Doer." With the great commission from the Pope to christianize the Germans, he was now on his way northward.

He was a great scholar, an able statesman, an eloquent preacher, a bold and daring soldier of the Cross. Never since the days of St. Paul, the great Apostle of the Gentiles, have men known a missionary more eminent in labors, in perils and in splendid self-sacrifice than St. Boniface, the Apostle of the Germans.

He had left his dearly loved home and his rich estate to become a monk in the monastery of Nutes celle, near Winchester. But a life of study, prayer and meditation in the cloister was not for him. He would not remain there, although they had chosen him as the abbot. He had refused great honors and responsibilities, even episcopal dignity at the court of Charles Martel, the king of the Franks. Nothing could satisfy his burning zeal for the Master's cause but to become a missionary of the Cross, to go out into the wilderness and preach to the heathen. So for five years he had been traveling with a few companions up and down through the forests of Thuringia, Saxony and Hesse; toiling through deep snows, over mountains and across turbulent streams, sleeping on the ground in summer and in winter, cold, hungry, fatigued, but never repining nor discouraged, always eager to do and to suffer all things for Christ's sake. And now he had been appointed Bishop and had come with letters from the Pope to Charles Martel and to all the clergy

and rulers among the neighboring Franks who could aid him and advance his cause.

On this eventful day he had been journeying since early morning with a few young monks who had lately come from Nutescelle, his old abbey, to join him in his labors. There were also in the little company several armed woodmen, for in those days it was not safe to travel unprotected, and there were teamsters to take charge of the horses and the sledge which was loaded with provisions.

ness.

As they were slowly toiling on their way, Boniface told his young companions many stories of his life in the wilderHow thrilling and marvelous were those tales of long wanderings through the dark forests, of fierce encounters with wolves and bears, of narrow escapes from bands of savages, and of the weird rites and terrible sacrifices of the heathen! "We must never forget, my brothers," said he, "that if St. Augustine had not been sent to England by the great Pope Gregory I, we, too, might still be in the darkness of heathenism; we, too, might still be worshiping false pagan gods. How great should be our love and our gratitude to God, and how fervent our zeal to bring the same glorious message to our fellow men that was once brought to us!

And following the example of St. Augustine and his monks in our own land, we will not only preach Christianity to the heathen, but we will teach them how to live. We will establish schools and monasteries, we will clear the land, drain swamps, till the soil and carry on trades. Here as elsewhere civilization will follow the coming of Christianity.