HOW CHRISTMAS CAME INTO ENGLAND.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXIX, Issue 10957, 23 December 1911, Page 7

HOW CHRISTMAS CAME INTO ENGLAND.

(By .T.vacs A. E. Scher<--r.)

Part One: Caiadock's Oak,

Many great men hav'j ..ome out, of <ikl Warwickshire. Shake.-pcare is mo;t famous of these, yet one who was even gTcater than lie lived and wrought a mightly work a thousand years and more before the poet was 'born. lint the Stratford man was ever a curious delver in old forgotten facts, which lie overlaid with innumerable fancies, and you may read in his books a fanciful story of Cymbeline, or CunobeJin, real king of ancient Britain, and true father to Carndoc. Caradoc is the hero of Warwickshire, although Master Shakespeare seems not to have heard of him. It is evc-r the world's loss thai he did not, for his deft fingers would have woven a marvellous, beautiful web from the Strange tangled threads that have fallen into my clumsy hands. Yet here they lie, on this clear Christmas morning in Warwickshire, and though you find my handiwork laboured you may know it is a labour of love.

King Caradoc came out with nis train and his troop of Druidicial priests to rebuild the stronghold of Warwick on" a beautiful dawning of May. Warwick had bsen founded by "the radiant Cymbeline," his father, in the truly radiant year when Christ was born; but it had been overthrown by the Romans in the struggle about the tribute-money, described by Shakespeare himself. Cymbeline, from some strange ivhim of happiness, had closed that warfare with the memorable words:

Although the victor, wo submit to Caesar, And to the Roman Empire, promising To pay our wonted tribute. ...

Laud -we the gods ; And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our bless'd altars. Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward. Let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendiy together. So through Lud's town march: And in the temple of great. Jupiter Our peace will ratify; seal it with feasts. Set on there! But Caradoc had not been nurtured at fcho Court of Augustus in the manner of hi 6 fickle father, Cymbeline; his nourishment had been that of freedom. That island "outside the world," as the Romans called Britain—that ".Neptune's Park," as Master Shakespeare quaintly names "ribbed and paled in with rocks unsaleable and roaring waters"'—had fed in Caradoc the love of liberty and scorn of tyranny and fealty to Fair Play, which is Britain's chiefest glory to this clay. Not so with liis brother Admhiius. When the dying Cymbeline had pressed the crown upon Caradoc's ruddy head last year, in the presence of ail the people, the dark and gloomy -elder brother had stolen away to Caesar, with a promise to return and take revenge. But no forboding clouded the brightness of the young king's countenance as he came out through the forest to the rebuild ing of Warwick in the chill dawn of this May day morning, the sixth of the moon in the fortieth year of our Lord. That "perfect beauty and great strength" which Britain early demanded of her kings met in regal consummation, in Caradoc His lithe, erect figure, with its crown of rich ruddy hair, was s;t off by true kingly trappings that spoke ot no* mean artiik'c among his weavers, jewellers, hosiers, and needle-women. One who has digged in the musty records of that ancient age informs us that ho must have worn a long furred mantle of sables over his tunic of bins, which reachc-tl to his shapely knees: and the tight hosen or breeches were bound with golden cress garterings from the middle of the calf to the ankles, where they were met by black-pointed skin shoes. Around his neck was a massive gold torque. At his side hung a long shining sword, the hilt of which was studded with brigjit enamel. His Mowing hair was surmounted by a peaked cap of gay striped cloth, the predominating colour being scarlet. To the peak clung the golden dragon of Britain—"the dragon of the great Pendragonship." His eyes were blue and keen and fearless; his features clear cut, and his face clean shaven except for an auburn moustache that grew well down on either side of a mouth at once gentle and firm, betraying also thai lurking .si.n.-e of humour which is the unfailing accompaniment of both sympathy and liard common-sense. Caradoc, leading his ceremonious procession through the starlit aisles of the forest, was followed close by a band of twenty tanglehaired chieftains, whose long and" brightly chequered woollen cloaks—the primitive Highland plaids—were fastened with oins and brooches of boar's tusks, each man carrying spear and battered shield. Behind the,-e came trocpnig, two by two, the bearded Druids, clothed in clinging robes of solid scarlet, with massv. rough bands of hammered gold on wrist and bare ankle, and a long, rough wooden staff in each right hand. Caradoc, scorning the splendid new temples of Rome, had fostered this ancient British cult., not because it appealed to his devotion, but hecause it was fixed in the soil, and could be utilised fur patriotic puiposes. These sombre disciples of Tar'anis and Camulus were chanting their hymn to the dawn in low monotonous waitings as the king led on the advance through and out of the forest to the smooth summit of a little gorse-sprinkled hill, beside the ••softflowing Avon'—and, there suddenly pausing, struck his gigantic spear- into the soil. which he had chosen for the planting of the corner-stone of Warwick. It was beneath the spreading branches of an oak, the only tiee loft standing on the hill, and the Druids gave a shout of rapturous joy. With them the high oak was held sacred ■s the stern and lonely monarch of the trees, speaking to them of their gods; and it pleased them to note the pious foresight of the king. Instantly the archpriest, old Dalian, hurried forward, searching the pale

green boughs with keen eye?, while his f'Jiow.s pre.-.sed about him in .-il.nce. anti the chieftains ;ncircied the tree. Then, suddenly, without winning, and as though he never h::d come before, the sun shot up above the vast unbroken forests to oastward, and kissed the budding oak upon tl"-i hill-top. so that there ran "a little noiseless noise ain rug the leaves" as they trembled at the touch of his rays. On the instant the eager-eyed arch-Druid, thrusting both clenched "hands straight upward in highly wrought religious excitement, uttered a tense prolonged shriek which fairly curdled Caradoc's blood : "00-yee. The Mistletoe, All-Heal!" 00-yee!" [The Druid word for mistletoe meant

"Ail-Heal."] As the sunrise lit up the big tree, the searching eyes of Dalian, the Druid, had discerned a - branch"'. of the mystical mistletoe, growing close in against its huge trunk, little witting that the shrewd king had found it there before him, and had carefully chosen his hour. To these fanatical religionists, the combination of omens was so_impressive that not a man of them but shivered to his marrow with the rapture of superstitious awe—the cak, the dawn, the'mistle'.oe in the sixth day cf tee moon, the king and his corner-stone!—and-the cry that shrilled from their throats as .they stood wilt uplifted clenched hands behind Dalian, their Isade-r, frightened many a squirrel from his feaafc of tender twigs among the tree tops. When the cry liad died down from want of breath, but before its echoes liad faded in the foTcst, the hook-ncsed, bearded Dalian, beating himself twice upon the breast, raised his hands once more toward heaven and then shouted :

"Know ye, 0 people of Britain, that heaven smiles on you this day! The oak is the strong unswerving gcd. "The mistletoe is man, dependent on the gods for his being. Tlie dawn is. heaven's smile. It is the sacred sixth day of the moon. Here have ye_ seen the holy tokens, fixed in perfect unison at the moment of mighty adventure. By the sacred Angnineum' which I bear upon my breast"—here he wrenched it from its twisted chain cf gold and held it aloft—"l declare that the favour of our gods is with. King Caradoc, and that he shall mightily prevail!" Here the Druids chanted a loud and fervent "amen," and the war-men clashed spear against shield, while Carodcc stood smiiiing proudly beneath the beneficent tree. Dalian was an impressive figure, tall and tense, the sun striking fire from the curiously fashioned' gold disc that •formed his headgear, and turning his robe to blood colour. He resumed his interrupted oration:

"Wherefore I call upon you, Druids, while the king with his chieftains marks out the boundaries of new Warwick, to get you to your duties, which ye know so well, and build here, wh;:i-y the king's spear stands, an altar for fiit.ng wcrilicu on this golden day of the dawn." Ho lowered lib gaunt aims, in token that- h-:s speech wa« now ended. Three priests prosed toward hirii' 'for im-Antc-ttons. These directions he whispered in their ears; then lied against each <>:' their lu.ii.ris, in turn, that mystical charm of the serpent's egg, or Anguieum, which the older Pliny describes as of "about the size of a moderately large round apple, having a carli'lagiiKHis rind studded • with cavities like those on the arms of a polypus." It was always prcducid—according to tradition—from the sxli-.a and frothy sweat of innumerable .;,ei jic-n-ts, writhing in an entangled mass in the'moonlight, the egg being Teased up by their hissing as soon.as formed. The "divinely favoured Druid who contrived, as it fell, to catch it in his sagum, or while iincn apron, rode off at full speed upon horseback, pursued by the serpents until they were checked by the passage of a clear running stream. When Dalian had pressed the Ajiguineum hard against the breach of the" three piests in turn, they disappeared quickly in the forest: one, wiih a li\id scar upon his face, which reached from temple to nostril, going in the direction of the vil-la-go of wattled huts from which the procession had come, the others toward a neighbouring cattle-pit. Meanwhile, the remaining Druids, about two score in minil)cr. wore already hurrying hither and thither in search of large s'.'.m-cs from the hillside, which they built in an astonishingly short time into a reiigh unplasteTcd allar between the tree an.i the sun. This done, Dalian beckoned to the chief of the saronjdae, or bardic im-tructms of youth ; and the. winner of ;ho circlet of gold in ihe last animal content of hards stepped out facing the sun, with the British banner of scir!et uplifted in the same hand that held his rude harp, and chanted :

"0 Thou strong King of Day, Lord of Light, Who cTiascst away the dark night, Thou hast smiled in the Oak, Thou hast blessed Caradoc, And we praise Thee with all of ouTmirfit!

0 Wheel of the world, Turning Wheel, On our banner unfurl'd set Thy seal! Oive us true hearts of oak" For onr Kege Caradoc. In the name of the sacred All-Heal!"

Gruff shouts of applause arose from the throats of the war men as the bard brought his impromptu chant to its close, and the poet had no sooner retired to his place in the now silent and expectant band of Druids than the two scarlet-robed priests were seen advancing from the rim of the forest leading tw-o large white bulls. Caradoc and his chieftains moved out from under the tree to observe the ceremony which followed. The bulls were fastened by their horns to the trunk of the oak. Dalian was then lifted up on the shoulders of the two assisting priests until he could clamber to a seat upon the lowest bough. A golden knife was handed up to him. AVith thi3, standing upright among the branches

of the tree, be cropped the sacred AllUr.'A. or mistletoe, amid ihe pious chanting of the priests, catching the precious parasite in his snow-white sagum as it fell. ll' then descended, with the assistance of the two tall Druids, and placed the mistletoe upon ihe altar. Returning to the tree, amid the perfect silence of the people, he raised the same golden knife above his head, and, with two deft practised strokes of his sinewy arm, ered the jugular veins of the bulls. Their hot blood spouted gurgling on the tree-trunk, and the Druids chanted a mournful

"amen" to this further good omen. The bulls fell, without breaking their bands, one sharp horn piercing the tree until the sap oozed. A short convulsive struggle, and they lay quite still. The Druids heaved a sigh of relief over, the fortunate killing. After Dalian had placed certain parts upon the altar for burning, his followers rushed in for their portions of the sacrificial feast. Caradoc and his chieftains, knowing that the great fire would not be lit upon the corner stone altar until the sun had quite reached his zenith—when the elaborate ceremony of dedication would take place—now set out on their journey to mark out boundaries for the .walls of the town.

This engaged them for the space of several hours. Meanwhile the Druids had built a huge fire, and had eaten their hastily-roasted beef "rather after the fashion of lions," though with the assist ance of little'bronze knives; gnawing the joints to the bone, and then tossing the denuded bones upon the glowing coals The feast ended, they had stretched themselves around the barbecue fire to enjoy the sleepy pleasure of repletion, awaiting the. hour of high noon. But their luxury was soon interrupted by the return of the scar-faced priest, bearing a crying child in his arms, and followed by the. crouching figure of the mother. She seemed but a poor soiled creature, in her rough, ragged gown of hodden-gray, tied about the waist with thongs of straw—her matted hair covering ber face like a veil, and half stifling her pitiful sobs. They gave no heed to her, but instantly every man S3t erect with attention to this highest rite, of all the Druid ritual. Only on extraordinary occasions did the Druids practice human sacrifice, but Dalian had felt- that the events of the morning demanded high mass to Taranis, acd was the more willin" to make it since Myfanwy's sunny haired boy had caused scandal among the chaste Britons. Her husband bad been slain by {be Romans, and her honour thus left rle fe.nceles? against the tongue >-f OY.ran the scar-faced. Why shoi Id not the Hiild l.c built as a stone of offence into the altai of the corner-stone, acceptable to the gods on two counts ? So the archpriest arose with great dignity, and directed that pre parations should begin, after observinj' that the king'and his warriors had quite disappeared in the distance. The two-year-old boy had been quieted by a big pone of saffron cake which My fanwy drew from her bosom and thrus! into his small chubby hands. This poor creature seemed utterly cowed as she squatted on her haunches near the altar and watched the awful procedure through her tresses of rough tangled hair. Cornn had placed the little child within, by the removal of three or four stones, and now Dalian stood directing the mason who was busily mixing his mortar. When it was finally ready, the workman scooped a quantity of the slimy mass into his hands, and smeared it skilfully between the chinks with his beny forefinger. The small Dnnwallo sat quietly within, munching his saffron cake in elhe growing darkness. Suddeulv Mvfanwv thrust herself for-

ward on her knees, and, peering hungrily through a crevice in the altar, exclaimed in tones that were vibrant with the pain of wounded love, and that framed themselves into the blind unconscious poetry of Celtic passion : '.'l see his face, there gleaming like a rose!"

The mason's hands were busy at their task of shutting out the light from the oven; the smack of mortar against the stones made deeper darkeness about the innocent child.

"I see his eyes, gleaming like twin stars," exclaimed the passionate mother. A rough hand seized her by the shoulder, but she wrenched herself free and pressed her wet face against another part of the unfinished oven, while the mason's hand closed up the crevice that had just served as a little window of love. ,

" I sec his hair, gleaming like the dawn!" screamed Myfanwy: and then, as they tore her away and closed the last poor channel of vision, she thrust her knotted hands high above ber head, and, falling backward prone upon the ground, shrieked in heartrending agony: "I see nothing, nothing, nothing! O, mr ehdd!"

[These four exclamations of Myfanwy, together with the name, are borrowed from the book of the Warwick Pageant,, which occurred in the summer of 1906.]

Goran spurned the prostrate woman with his foot, and harshly bade ber be silent. Like a fury she seized him by the ankles, and began gnawing at his bones like a snarling maddened dog. When they tore her loose th? shins of the priest were bleeding, and while they held her there half reclining on the ground, she fixed her crazed glassy eyes upon him and poured forth n torrent of words: "Thou dog of a Druid!" she screamed; "would thou wert with the dead fetid marsh-hag that bore thee! Ma/ scurvy rot thy bones and, the darkest demons seize thy scowling soul! Thou it was that didst enter my hut with thy leer and thy ■ oiling tongue"! Hand of my husoand it was that did brand thee across vhy foul face when he came in at eve from the bunt to find a wild beast in his homj I Him didst thou betray to the Romans; me hast thou robbed of my honour, with the ulcerocs sting of thy slander; and new thou hast iakßn my child'" But her .voice was stifled with the folds of her own coarse gown as they finally crushed her fierce convulsions with sU;T-rior strength, and dragged her back lo't-iE village through the forest. Coran.

pointing ruefully down at his an'cYs, sng jested that she. too., he included in -he sacrifice; but Dalian, who rema-r.ed ou mffled throughout the melee, waved away tiie sui;,'C.'-tion with a stately gesture and •he curt pronouncement that so high a uedication could not be profaned or cheap"ned bv the blood of an unholy female.

Ths sacred oven having now bssa corns'. Ie ted, quantities of punk and dry wood ''-era the hill-side were heaped aoout the b.oody sacrifice on the altar, as »vell as n the ground at its base; and as the drew almost directly overhead, while Oar?doc with his escort of warriors could * e seen coming in from their cirsu-t, the . ftree priests seized brands from the bar Secue fire., and awaited the word i-f comland. Old Dallarj, his arms foidrd and 'us bushy gray brows gathered to a dis--ified frown, stood under tiae o-x-i lacing he altar, his Druids .assembled arimd him easy to chant Trite their bards the -olemn incantation to Taranis .when the flames .i.iou'ld leap up toward the sky. ihe men ho had dragged poor Myfanwy 1 nek to her empty hut In the village came running ■'.uite out of breath, in time to j;aa them-■A-'ves to the Druidical company—foi'owed Lm, the edge of the forest by a motley roup of "villagers, who stood peering : nidly and in open-eye wonder at the nystje ceremonial on the hilltop. C'aradoc. with a. half-suppressed yawn leaned on his tpear among the -war-men, facing the arch(ti;esi and the altar. Dalian cut !is keen eye toward the sun, then lifted his hand ;ii a signal for the chant to begin. It ('roned like the low drowsy mu-.nur of '■•ees as the Druids took up the weird •.tiain:

0 Taranis, oak-hearted Deit.', Taranis, blood-loving Lord—

veiling to articulate sound.as the priests ■ usned'with their flaming firebrands and lirust them among the fagots on th . altar. 7'he dry twigs crackled as the fire aught tcunt; the chant dropped again to <•■ drone before the wild hurricane of sound that .houid ascend with the uplifted fla -ics. A '-: ny red coal sifted in through .the lid of the" oven a-od fell upon th? baby's naked •!■ mider, just as the little drow-y eyes -.>'[, yielding to the spell of die close .!:,rknes.s and the-feast of the great yellowpone—and the shrill cry of a terrified child pierced the low monotone of- the ba.rcli precisely as the flames roared V-ivenvvard and the chant soar - .-! into a S-C'MMll.

But the quick ear of Caradoc bad caught the shrill not? of keen childish agony r-nti, g the'air like a knife, and lie ('.ought ..f !>.s. tiny infant daughter in Silum. At a l!-i.;i- his'ey? swept the freshly■ (.:» stered oven of hum:;': sanrifitc; he discerned that his well-known dislike of this horrid feature >f Druid ritual had almost been baffled—and on this day of ail days!—by the crafty fanaticism of Italian. Like a catapult he flung himself toward the altar, bis splendid" robo and towering cap slipping fiom him; and lay fiercely about him with his great Homeric spckir. showering sparks and living coals in such fashion that the amazed Druids shrank-back under iheUee. In a moment he had toppled over the altar, with its burden cr scorched bloody, •sa/jrifice; in a moment he had seized small Duir.vallo and lifted him aloft in his aims. Turning then with blazing eyes toward old Dalian, he read that hook-nosed fanatic a lesson in royal rebuke such as made him flinch before the fare of his Druids, while the war-men looked stolidly on.

"Thou bloody evil priest!" shouted Ca-radoc.-his right hand burning with pain,—

•'Keep-thou to thy oaks and thy mistletoe, but know that human sacrifice shall never stain the stones of new Warwick, r.or bloody the fame of my reign! On peril of thy life shalt thou venture ever lo attempt the again ! I swear it by the great Pendragonship!" Dalian had recovered his composure; and there was real majesty in the old fanatic's bearing as lie spoke for the outraged gods. "And know thou also, 0 Caradoc, that the gods will be avenged this very day! I swear it by the sacred Egg-of-the-Serp-cnts!"

The Icing was walking indiffcerntly over toward his chieftain, all" his splendid youthful grace and strength revealed with the loss of the trappings that had veiled him —the half-naked and quite dirty child snuggling its sunny head on his shoulder. As if in swift answer to the priestly imprecation, a horseman came crashing through the underbrush from the village .and flung himself on one knee before the king: "The Romans are upon us, my Master! They have crossed the street-ford ([now Stratford] of the Avon, and are within two leagues cf this place! Adminius, thy brother, leads the way;" Part Two: Twenty Years After.

A score of years have passed by, and we look upon the same scene again. The great oak is still standing, more majestic and stalwart than ever, thongli bare and forbidding of aspect in the gloom of a baleful December evening. Every trace of the ill-starred altar has disappeared, and the bonndary stones so carefully placed by Caradoc and his warriors had never been visited again, for the coming of the treaeherorus Adminius with the Romans had brought on a seven years' war, which had left no time for town building. Adminins was slain in th'e opening battle, while Caradoc fought the war through, only to bo betrayed at its close by a treacherous stepmother, Cartismandua, who delivered him -up to the Romans. That had been twelve years ago—just after the final sanguinary strugglo at the great stronghold of Breidden Hill. The subsequent revolt of the amazeniari British queen, Boadicea, which expelled the Romans from Lud's town (or London), and slew them to the number of seventy thousand, was a merely temporary victory, succeeded by fiercer oppression. During the dozen dreary years that had intervened since Caradoe's war, the people of Warwickshire had endured a dread peace that seemed to them far worse than warfare, treddan down as they were by ttieir conqnerars. Xifeey longed for Caradoe's return from. He -enfoncsd exile in E«me, but titers were no nrifists to Toice their rjeti-

tions, as the fierce Druids had been exterminated by Older of Claudiua on account of their frenzied resistance to invasion. Suetonius with his powerful army had even stormed their sacred island of Mona —now known as Anglesey—burning the fanatical priests by the hundred in their own huge cages of wickerwork, built for colossal human sacrifice.

The forest had been partially cleared between the Hill-top and the old-British village, and now a strong Roman settlement marked the site of the Warwick of the future. The Romans, always keen judges o£ locality, had confirmed the judgment of Caradoc, and posterity continues to praise it "Under this hill, hard by. the riven Avon," as one quaint old writer has phrased it, is "the very seate itselfe of pleasantnesse. There have yee a shady little wood, eleere and cristall springs, mossy bottomes and caves, meadowes alwaies fresh and greene, the river rambling here and there among the stones, .with his stream making a rmide noise and - gentle whispering, and besides all this, - solitary and still quietnesse, things to the Muses." The muse of William Shakespeare was certainly partial' to his native Warwickshire,

With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted

The Romans of that period have been charged with decadent taste -in*?-many tilings, but Warwick must- be remembered in their favour. "■ •■ - .

The old tree on the deserted hill-top had become a sort of Charter Oak to the Britons, recalling the days of their;, freedom, and bound up with the memory-of their lost leader, whoso unselfish 'defiance 'of Taranis had been talked of befide every hearthstone, though there were hot wanting those who beliered that all the ills of the last score of years had been extorted by the amgered gods as ransom forD.unwalkys freedom. The lets superstit.ous, however, pointed with some rea.'ou to the tact that Druidism had been quite extinguished a? a proof that its gods wanted power. The people lacked a religion, and centred their scanty hopes upon the return of King Caradoc, to whom the more faihful looked forward to as one who should redeem Britannia out of all her troubles.

Around the solitary "Oak of Caradoc," as it had now coma to be called, Britons chafing under serfdom were accustomed to gather as opportunity offered, there to find that companionship which misery is said to delight in. On the December evening in question, about the time of-the-sinking of the sun, a group of men bearing great bags of corn on their shoulders, came trudging over the hill toward the vil age—paused wearily underneath the oak as if by common agreement dumped the bags down on its gnarled spreading root.", and then threw themselves upon the damp ground for an hour of sweet stolen leisure. Believing that an idle brain is a mischievous workshop, the taskmasters had contrived that their .subjects should have small respite from tail; when nothing else iemained to be done, the peasants were forced to bring uncounted tribute of from their strange subterranean gran iries, for storage in the governmental warelouse. It was a doubly odious drudgery, because it combined with sweaty and painful labour the surrender of hard-earned liar cits. It is not to be wondered at, .therefore, that a white-haired but still vigorous labourer, with a livid scar seaming h;s i.xe, kicked viciously at his burden as it I-:'., on the' ground at his feet, and es.cla . ed, when he had thrown himself upon it .;nd leaned his thin aching back against iho tree:

"May this corn.rot the bones'of the Romans !" 'Tis the heaviest load ever I bore!" ■■■■:•

"Peace, Goran,'" icplied a youthful companion, of strikingly thoughtful demeanour; "curses come /home to rcost, aifd our curse is heavy already."

Old Goran "sat upright as though he had springs in his backbone. His pak- -.yes flashed fire, and the scar on his face :•. Ed to deepen. The fanatical devil that :iied in his heart shook his voice to a, very cataract of utterance :

"Ay, well has thou said, young Diinwallo, that curses come back home to rcost! And well hast thou said, that our curse is too heavy to bear-! To coma from thy lips of all men! Came not our curse out of thee ?"

This question he screamed with such shrillness that ijunwallo leaked alarmedly. about; and then, smiling sadly, replied: "Softly, softly, testy Goran, cr the Romans will give us merry Vulttide . with .-a vengeance—if they snare us this loitering at our toil."

"Yul-etide, indeed !" answered Goran, the four other men listening intently to what promised to become a lively broil. "What knowsfc thou of the Yuletide ?" "Oh. Coran," soothed the gentle Dunwallo, "thou art not the only one to meet and converse with the Norsemea who came up the river from Lud's town. I know \ of their worship of the Yule." 'Ay. the Yule!" whispered the bitter old priest o£ former days, with strid mt intensity of passion, leaning forward with skinny 'elbows 011 his knees, his pale eyt9 glowing like coals, —"Knowest thou not 'tis the hour of tlia power of the Yule Wheel ?—that the angered Wheel God of heaven is turning him now in his courses ?—and, if he be not appeased in his wrath, he will burn us to hell with his curses ?" This week the Sun wheels in his circuit: woe be to-us if W6 spit toward the Yule!" The superstitious British peasants sat now with their chins in their palms, weary and worn with sore toil, despondent front oppression and exposure in this strangest of all British winters, but listening with eager inteittness to the spokesman of long forgotten gods. „ "Who would spit toward the* Yule, Father Coran?" asked D-ur.wallo, enough, for he had brooded long and deeply on his possible ehare in the cnise, and Was accustomed to furtive reproaches, though never before had any dar«d openly til© indictment that had hannted hin meiaiJichosy TniTH"!. Since thai dieadfol ss thii- wera aoctjotosofid to ""in ii. "robsa Caaaaloc had iwa&nn

the altar, and Myfanwy had died of her epileptic fit in the. poor empty hut of wattled reeds, and the Romans had overrun the country, he had been treated a.a being apart, belonging as it were to the gods, anrl therefore" immune from harm and entitled to bounty as their foundling, yet shunned ly many with dread. These 'facto hart wrought, their effect on a naturally sensitive temperament, and now his heart w,v like lead as he waited for Coran to answer.

The old man held back his reply, peering keenlv into the youth's fearless eyes, his face twitching with unearthly excitement, his scar throbbing like a thing alive. When the answer was finally moulded, it fell slowly from, his thin writhing lips, each word with a sting as of a wasp, impelled by that malignant ferocity which religious, bigotry draws to its prime. "Accursed of the gods!" he hissed. . "Spawn of leprous sire and lying dam! Robber of the altar," cheater of the sacrifice, it is thou that spittestjat the Yule! Seest thou not .that thy living -is a daily insult to dcitv ? Knowest thou not that thy life's blood is. forfeit to the huugir of Tarards? Well do I remember that damnable Mayday noontide when old Dalian called vengeance from the skies. The smell of fire still clung to they swaddling bands when the courier fell from his froth}' hotse and proclaimed, like a herald, of hell, the coming of Jupiter's scourge. The"beak of the eagles of Rome hath rended the hearts of our people because all the gods in high heaven wreak revenge for the cheating of Taranis. Thy hag mother died in her frenzy, and left me these anklets as keepsake, as they father hath marked me this scar. Thy puny life was forfeit, I tell the©; the mad king raped it from the oak god's very jaws! In exchange for thy puling infant's drachm of blood, the blood of our oak hearted manhood has deluged Britain with red floods of fury, even from that day to this. War, war, war! Toil and pain, toil and pain, toil and trouble'. Bloody curses, stinking woes, and filthy serfdom—that has thou brought to our bosoms! Thou art the hell-born incubus of Britain, and the father of fiendish woes ! Even the clouds and the seasons retch at thee! Why this reeking moisture of midwinter? Why these steamy months of lukewarm fog? Why this baleful threat of deadly plague? Why do the worms rot the trees, and the weevils plague the corn, and the mole-rats pollute the brook-bed, except for thee? Wherefore should the snow stick in the sky, save for shuddering fear- of thee? 'Land of the wintry pole, indeed! Why should the-oily rivers creep unpurified of ice in their slimy serpentine beds except that the cold gods of purity disdain three? They are all in league with Taranis; never has such a winter's seaeon come to Britain, never hath land groaned under heavier woe. Thou ciingest to thy whelp's life as a leech—yea, leech thou art to Britain's sucked-up heart—devourcr of thy land and thy people! Here under this oak tree came the awful curse 0:1 us from thee; when thou payest here under this tree thy debt to the cheated Taranis, then, and not till then, will Britain be freed of her curses! I swear it by the Eg«--of-the-Serpentfi, which I tore 110 m the°dead hand of Dalian!"—and, wrenchin" the sacrosanct charm from its hiding place in his girdle, he thrust it with violence against Dunwallo's wildly beating heart. • The aged man leaned back exhausted, his br»ast heaving with its torrent of delirium. The fetid breath of that den:-:- | winter in England turned more than i;i:e man toward madness. The lia!f-:i.ad and wholly fanatical Coran h.id no: scaped the sword of Suetonius for naught. With such seed corn of tierce Drnidism existent, that intense barbaric faith might aca'in find full field in Britain. His hearers were visibly affected. The four peasants muttered "anxiously together, stea! "'r> deadly looks towards Dunwallo. The full watery moon that had supplanted the failto" twilight showed the youth * face as pallid as a ghost's, hifl great eyes staring into vacancy. Presently he spoke. It was the fruit of much melancholy brooding, fertilised by the sick ghastliiicss of the season, and' ripened suddenly by the bla/.e of Goran's wrath. In Dunwallo spoke the voice of a martyr, unremembcred now, yet worthy of a place beside those who died in the highway at Oxford. His voice was lowbut steady": hie face had the grandeur of * eod. •"'Coran. it comes to me that thou art right. And lam ready to pay the forfeit for mv people.'" The' old man leaped to his lect with the agility of a panther: the four peasants lumbered clumsily to theirs. Only Dunwallo remained seated among the scattered bass of com. • " ■ "Say it again! screamed the unlrocked priest-—"say what mine ears have seemed to tell me!" "I say it." answered Dunwallo. "Here and now will I pay forfeit for my people.''

Oie of the men said: •'Duinvallo. well spoken. It is due that thou shouldest die a-nd save thy -people. Jhv life is truly forfeit to the gods." And m this they all seemed to concur. Thev found a scrawny spray of mistletoe, and bruieed its juices on his face and lands. Goran sealed him with the deadly Anguineum. They bound him with their leather girdles to "the oak tree, as an ox. They discussed the place -where they might sink his corpse in the Avon and escape the detection of the Romans, being afraid to venture a fire. Coran was feverish with excitement, while Duowallo, h : s eyes closed, remained to all appearance divinelycalm throughout the whole procedure. The five men Dually stood out before him in the moonlight—Coran in the centre, harshly chanting the blood-curdling deatheong, kniie in hand. Br.t listen! A voice of singular sweetness and persuasion interrupted the unholy dirge: "Mv children!"

Coran whirled about, with the swiftness of lightning, recognised as by intuition the wan figure of the white-haired Caradoc standing there alone in the moonlight, and rased his murderous knife frenziedly upon th- er.ile'l king. Birt the.weapon fell harm-lc.-ri !'ro-7i his hand as he huddled in a dead faint upon the sodden ground. The

four men foil 'hack amazed. Caradoc stooped, wiih infinite tenderness, and ministered to the unconscious Druid. When the sick man had revived, he bade one of the peasants support him, then hastened to unbind Dunwallo. When each knew who the other was. they embraced and wept. Then Caradoc stooped once more over the piost-ate form of the Druid, whose strength, seemed utterly spent, and, laying the gaunt head with its horrible livid scar upon his knee with all of the careful gentleness of a woman, he then bade the others, filled with. silent awe-struck wonderment as they were, to be seated about him on the ground. The watery pall had passed away from the face of the moon, and she shone clear and wholesome upon them—the ragged •king aiid his huddling disconsolate children. Anil then he told them his. '"I have come back to you at the Yuletide," said Caradoc, "at the cost.of my kingly crown. My freedom I purchased, my children, to lead you to serve the Prince of Peace." ■ "The Prince of Peace! What a name! muttered the fierce old priest of Taranis, looking wide-eyed into Caradoc's face. "Yes, my children," continued this great Nursing-Father, white his hand caressed the face with ite scar; "He purchased the peace of His people by the forfeit of His life upon the tree." Dunwallo stirred uneasily; the peasants leaned forward on their elbows; Coran would have struggled to his feet, but the gentle hand of Caradoc restrained him. "Why!" exclaimed the old Druid, "we were about to claim the forfeit of Dun-wallo!"—-and when Caradoc had heard the whole story of the young man's voluntary sacrifice, he locked with deep love on Dunwallo, aud then told the story of the Cross. He told thepi also how his wife and daughter had died in their far Roman exile, happy in the peaceful faith they had heard proclaimed by a notable Jew named Paul. He told them how his own heart had been comforted in the thought •of working for the peace of his people. Then, coming back to the present, he continued: "I had thought it was only the fondness of memory that lured me by way of the oak. I longed to stand under this tree, where I parted with the glory, of the past. Sa I left my men with the •coracle, down by the margin of the river, desiring to come on alone. But now I know I was 6ent heie. I was sent to the Oak as your daysman, to set you at one with Emmanuel, and to turn your awful Yuletide into Christmas." "Christmas—what is Christinas?" asked Dunwalio.

"Christmas is redeemed childhood," answered the white-haired Caradoc. "It was the unknown touch of Clu-istmas in my heart that sot you free from Taranis a score of years ago"—and he told them, the story of the manger. "Christmas is redeemed motherhood," the wise old evangelist went on, thinking of the pitiful Myfanwy; and he pictured to their minds the Virgin Mother.

"Christmas is a redeemed world," the kiiKr continued : "aiid chiefly it is .the redemption of oar joy. It turns our ugliness to beauty, our shivery into scnehip, and all our outward sorrow to an innermost delight. It takes, the whole wide world and makes it new again, with a gift like the ministry of snow. There was that in vour old religion, faithful Coran, which it will possess and transform. A Father takes the place 01 Taranis, and Christ shall .become your Druid. There is never a truth or beauty in the world but Christmas will welcome them and moidd them to itself with fragrant freshness. So the coming centuries will cherish the saerament of-sacrifice, though Christinas altars shall irever fee! the stain of blood. Even y'our Oak" —and he waved his hand lovingly upward—"will surrender his sacred All-Heal, rJid i-hc Yule log will burn in the chimney, and the greenery of forest gods will wave-—not as signs of dark and helpless fear,'but to bid the cheerful worl3 a inerrv Christinas." And he told them how the trembling slwphe:\ls heaid the first Christinas words, "Fear not!"

Coran was .sobbing like a child whose breast hns been cased by the mother. The four buriy Britons, let the salt tears roll down their swarthy faces, unabashed. A light shone in the eyes of Dunwallo. "Listen!" whispered Caradoc: "Hear ye not the sounds of heavenly music?"

But it was only the wind in the woven harp of the boughs of the ancient oak tree, with a soft shy promise of snow. Six men shouldered heavy burdens, Caradoc taking that of CoraVi. The seven stole together down the hill-side to their huts, through the first falling flakes of Christmas weather. In the morning all the world was wintry white, and the dread of threatened plagues had passed away. The White Christ had come with Caradoc to Britain—Who covers the sins of the world.