A MYSTICAL CHRISTMAS STORY

Northern Advocate, 16 December 1932, Page 10 (Supplement)

A MYSTICAL CHRISTMAS STORY

Here is a story of a wonderful adventure which befell a poor little girl ou the Holy Night. There is a moral as avoll as a truth in this beautiful story, lull both must be discovered by the reader. it Avas Christmas Eve afternoon, and the laud lay envered Avith a thick blanket of suoav. Out in the country side all Avas still, save for the far-olf twinkle of sledge-bells Avhich betokened the presence of countryfolk returning from service at the village church. Here and there, dotted amongst clusters of dark, mysterious pinetrees, could be seen tiny points of a-olden light from cottage and farmhouse Avimlows. for on this Holy Night do the people make merry Avith carol and Christmas tree. The spirit of fesl’iA'ity Jo Just as apparent in the now-deserted countryside as it is in each tiny home—yet it needs an inner sousil iacucss to feel its wondrous presence. Of a sudden, through a clearing in the forest could be heard the clear, boll-likc voice of a young girl, Avhich, as the moments passed, gradually otcav louder. At last the bright moon, which hung like a silver lamp against a velvet sky dusted Avith stars, revealed a child of about lavclvo years old. clad in quaint, tattered bodice and skirt, and bared legs with socks about her tiny ankles. Little Mathilde Avas an orphan Avho lived an unhappy life Avith an old woman avlio called herself the child’s guardian. Mathilde knew little or nothing of the usual joys Avhich fall to the lot of most boys and girls; indeed, before and after school hours she busied herself in the tiny cottage scrubbing floors, draAviug water from the well, collecting Avood for the stove —so that at lust, avlicu bed-time came, the little body, full of sleep, sank gratefully upon the hard boards which served as a bed. Yet in spite of the cruelty Avith which she whs treated (for the old woman often beat little Mathilde for being lazy!') the child Avas happy . . ■ Happy, that is, hr her heart, for she had learned a secret which Kings and Emperors tvould fain learn! By nature, Mathilde Avas a religious child. In her own simple Avay she had discovered a hidden well of happiness, the knowing of Avhich, Avhen difficulties arose, enabled her to overcome them. Often at dead of night .fhe would Avakc up and, stealing into the little parlour, Avould take doAvn the Big Book Avhich lay on the shelf, reading of the Avonderful sayings and doings of the Teacher avlio lived nearly two thousand years ago. At these times she Avas transported into another Avorld; cruelty and grumblings faded aAvay, giving place to a sense of contentment which made all the troubles of her young life seem ridiculously small ami unimportant. It Avas Christmas Eve . . . and uoaa' as the child walked through the silent yet glistening forest, her heart sang with the sheer wonder of the Holy Night, for, like many before her (Joan of Arc, for one), she heard a fairy voice, which in reality was an angel speaking; bidding her lie full o(. faith. The Avord-s which kept repeating themselves in her mind were: “Whatever you pray and ask for, if you believe that you have received it, it shall bo yours.” Magic Avords from the Big Book; and true! Indeed, Avh.at could be more certain than the truth they contained? Mathilde’s little mind knoAV no doubts. Of course, she reasoned, if one only believed, then the mountains of difficulty Avould surely be removed. And yet, judging from Avordly standards, she had nothing to be happy about, for early this afternoon of the Holy Night ihc old Avonian, her guardian, had turned Mathilde out of the cottage. “Go, you lazy good-for-nothing!” she screamed. “Why should I feed and house you tvlien you do nothing for mo in return?”

The harsh voice ceased abruptly as the door of the cottage slummed behind her. Hut heeding nothing, she ran down to the outskirts of the darkening forest —knowing not where to go, what to do. “Only believe ...” She repeated the words to herself again and again, “God cannot mean me to starve, and on the Holy Night, too!” Undaunted and untroubled through her faith, little Mathilde sped on, now passing a lonely homestead, guarded by two large and ferocious dogs, which, strangely enough, remained silent and did her no hurt. Through one window she could see a lovely Christmas-tree, bedecked with fairy candles and spangles. “Go on, go on!” urged the Voice, as Mathilda felt tempted to knock at the little green door. Go on—to where, to what? For an instant the tiniest doubt crept into the child’s mind, but she obeyed the injunction and pressed on. . . It was bitterly cold. The heavy snow crunched sharply as Mathilda made her way through a dense patch of forest. Suddenly she heard a cry. There it was again. Surely it sounded like the whimpering of a baby? Mathilde cautiously made her way through the aisle of silent, brooding pines, when suddenly she espied a dark object lying in her path. It was 'a very frightened Mathilde who approached the bundle (for that is what, it was), but still the Voice said “Go on!” Kneeling down, quite unmindful of the cold, the child found that the bundle contained a liny baby, whose face, revealed, by a ray of moonlight through the trees, was curiously familiar. Where had she seen that face before?. What blue eves ami dimpled checks the baby had! Strangely moved, Mathilde picked uo the little burden in its shawl, wondering what next to do. It was all too strange. . . . Should she return to the little house? Hut its the thought entered her mind, the Voice persisted. “Go on, go on!” Fearing to disobey, Mathilde went forward, hugging the mite to her frozen breast. At last the edge of the forest came in sight, whilst running at right angles lay a road, glistening with frozen snow, like a, ribbon of tiny diamonds. The baby was now sleeping, and little Mathilde felt exhaustion steal upon her, for she was cold and hungry. Still the Voice urged her on. . . What was the orange light dancing ahead which now suddenly pierced the darkness, and which with every step grew larger? Presently the figure of a man loomed into view, and, catching eight of Mathilde, rushed forward with a cry of joy. “Praise God!” he whispered hoarsely, gently fingering the -shawl which covered the sleeping babe. “You have found the Babe!” With these words, the face of the stranger glowed with a soft, white light. And the Baby stirred in its sleep. “See!” said the Man, and as Mathilde lowered her bewildered eyes to the shawl, she saw, too, that the face ol; the Babe shone, with heavenly light. With a sob of happiness, too deep for words, little Mathilde knelt upon the frozen road and bowed her head in adoration. “The Baby Christ!” was all she could utter, for she felt as if a thousand birds of happiness fluttered from her heart. ... “Truly have you spoken!”—she vaguely heard the words. “Through faith alone have you found the Child. Come with me, little maid! Troubles and -weariness and sadness shall from henceforth not be your lot. I know your story (how, you need not ask mo), and now shall you live with me and my good wife. I repeat: Your faith in the goodness of the Father has overcome all obstacles.” Dazed with awe, Mathilde rose to her feet and followed the Stranger, who, with swinging lamp, walked silently in the direction from which lie had come. Her happiness was complete, overflowing'. And that night, standing before the gaily decorated Christmas tree in the mysterious stranger’s cottage, her heart \tas filled with indescribable joy. “Where is the Babe?” she breathed, for since she had been so warmly welcomed into the cottage there had been no sign of the Infant with the radiant expression. The Stranger was standing by her side, gazing too at (lie scintillating tree, “The Babe,” ho said presently, “has now gone from your mortal sight. - He is”'—his voice dropped to a whisper —“in your heart,” So that was the reason for the stirring ecstacy in little Mathilde’s heart! “Oh, that others might know that which I know!” she exclaimed fervently to herself. And the Alan, knowing her thoughts, replied: “'All might experience that Avhieh has befallen you if they would oulv believe.”