The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1903-12-12
THE YULE-LOG OF SORROW
CONTINUED FROM FIRST PAGE.

ham, grimly. "They won't have door
to be hanged at-no, nor tree to dangle
from. Walter oak is the last in the park,
and I'll have it cut down this week, and
We'll burn it as yule log on this very
hearth
care you going to keep Christmas,
then, in the old style?'' asked Hilda.
Certainly, my dear. With such little
money as remains I intend to celebrate the
good old customs. The whole village shall
come. There shall be dances, games,
mummers and the yule log-all exactly as
Sir Philip desired in his will. y
''But my dear Rixton, this is surely no
time for revelry,'' protested the Vicar.
cit is the time insisted Sir Graham,
with an imperious nod. "Before The
Grange passes from me and mine [ shall
keep one last Christmas as my ancestors
did. There will be no more revels in this
hall when | am gone The new genera
ton thinks nothing of the season and its
associations No, Markham; since the
end has come, let me depart with dignity.
Your church bells shall ring me out and |
shall hold Belshazzar feast.
s"The handwriting has been on the wall
for some time muttered Markham. But
Sir Graham did not hear him. He might
have protested if he had. But his atten-
ton was taken up by his son entering at
that moment with paper in his hand.
"Here you are, Hilda, cried Cyril,
coming towards her. '.Tve copied out
the rhyme, and modernized the spelling
You can take this with you, and see if you
can make out its riddle
The girl spread out the paper on the ia
BILE near the light, and read out the rhyme
as Cyril had written it:
'When Ill-luck Names For Rixton's Oak.
Mad Loss OF Grange And Land;
In Grimmest Hour Take Glee, Evoke
Much Strength Till Oblalion's Made-And
Keep Embers Red In Grange-Have Trust
Twice she repeated it. She looked
round in perplexity. Cyril laughed and
shook his head as if to intimate that he Re
could n1S explain. But Sir Graham came
to the rescue.
cit just means that when we Rixtons
leave The Grange, we must cut down the
oak, and, after burning it as yule log,
keep the ashes; for what purpose cannot
tell, nor could Sir Philip himself, sus-
pect. The old man wrote it when he was
crazed with grief for the loss of his son.
's[s this fac smile of the original,
Cyril?'
eyes. and no. [ have modernlzed the
spelling, but each word begins with
capital letter, as you see, and the metre Is
quite irregular
Eyes, somewhat said the vicar, mus
ing over the verse. cit is sad doggerel.
What it means cannot say; yet the last
lines would seem to intimate that some
thing was to be expected from the previous
ones
"Well, well, said Sir Graham, "the
oak shall be cut down and burnt. Then
we shall see what will be the result. But
hope for no miracle.
'In the meantime Hilda can see what
she can do towards a reading Of the rid
de-" said Cyril.
"Well, | shall certainly try, replied
the girl; lit is quite possible there may be
more in it than meets the eye
$50 many have thought, my dear, but
no one has made much of it so far. You re
not going, Markham?
YES, thanks, | think must. | have
my Christmas sermon to prepare, and it 5
getting late.
Left alone, Cyril and his father sat look
uppermost in both their minds. At last
Sir Graham broke the silence.
''You are getting everything in readi
ness for Christmas Eve, hope my boy"
eyes, father; it's all arranged for,
They are delighted at the idea of the mum
ming
"Wel, they are dancing over our
graves, said the old man, bitter y. 1T
is hard that for the sins Of my forefathers
l should have to lose all | have in the
world position, home, even my son. .
''You lose me only for time, father.
| hope to do well in Africa Who knows,
I might even make my fortune there.
That week there was great excitement
in the village of Lakewood. All energies
were given over to the preparations for
the festival at The Grange. The parish
clerk, himself taking the part of St. George,
instructed the mummers how to play their
several roles. Hilda busted herself with
decorating the church and teaching carols
to the choir. Occasionally she would take
from her pocket the rhyme of Sir Philip
and look at it, but each time it became
more inscrutable to her. She could make
nothing of it. She was forced to conclude
that it was merely repetition in rude
verse of the order already contained in Sir
Philips will that the Walter oak should
be converted into Christmas fuel In Ito
other way could she construe it. The doom
which threatened must fall, and this so
called prophecy, far from tending to avert
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