The Delta independent., 1909-12-17

lST7 selves; and such
display of the
forces of Nature as this seemed to be
a snow-spout, If such q word may be
coined.
Just before entering the snowy
realm on an east-bound train.
Harold Lancaster had telegraphed to
Hollyville. a pretty little village in
Illinois, that he was on his way home,
and would be there in season to as
sist in the church festivities on Christ
mas, after which the train had plunged
into the mountain region. He did not
know that his telegram was not sent,
as before it was dispatched the wires
had broken under the weight of the
snow, and all communication with the
east was suspended. The train plung I'd
ahead, assisted occasiona' y by a con-
venient snow-plow, and was making
fair progress toward the summit,
where 1t was expected 1t would meet
with less obstruction than On the
western slope.
Harold had gone on trip up
through the wonderful Canadian
country in the fall. promising to re-
turn to assist In giving Christmas
entertainment in the church, Of which
Edith Lowell. his sweetheart, was the
soprano. as he was the tenor. He
had written little musical skit, in
which he was to essay the part of a
trumpeter and messenger, to announce
to the Christian world-or the soon
to-be Christian world-the birth of
the Saviour: and his announcement
of that event was to be greeted by the
beautiful soprano voice of Miss Low
ell in a welcoming aria. which had
been composed with particular refer
ence to her exquisite method Of bird
like triliings, which was one of the
features of her voice that made her
SO popular with those who listened to
her voice Sunday after Sunday.
AS Christmas approached, and day
after day passed without any word
being received from young Lancaster,
she seemed buried in gloom as deeply
as were the foothills and even the
peaks as we'll as the canyons of the
great dividing range of the country.
All this time, out in the Rocky
mountains. train was creeping along
slowly. and muffied tenor voice was
murmuring, almost muttering, in oc
casional voicings, "a son is born to
the Highest" and again, GLORY Halle
lujah," as though in rehearsal of the
event in the little church in Holly
vile.
At last Christmas eve arrived, and
the congregation in their seats were
expectant. The choir singers seemed
to take their cue from Miss Lowell,
and a small modicum of success only
was anticipated.
Everybody was ready for the start,
and there was a pause. The blast on
the trumpet sounded, which was the
signal for Edith to rise and be ready
to greet the tenor announcement.
'If only Harold were here!" she
said soto voice. as she arose. 1T
will be hard for me to sing it." She
stood expectantly. 81 have no inspi-
ration WITHOUT Harold"
Following the trumpet signal, a fig
ure appeared in the distance: but
Edith did not have the heart to look.
There seemed to be little comms-
tion.
20, dear!" she exclaimed. 81 hope
that end OF It will not fail also, as
fear this will"
Then clear. ringing voice sounded
forth, which acted on Edith like an
electric battery:
"A son is born to the Highest" she
heard which was followed by GLORY
Hallelujah!" taken up by both choir
and congregation.
Her inspiration had arrived. She
knew the voice SO well. and her heart
leaped, as her voice rang out in the
opening notes of her aria, which in
turn was SO inspiring that 1t brought
the entire audience to its feet. and all
remained standing. in Difference to
her sweet delivery Of the words and
notes alike.
1T was a great triumph" said the
old pastor, as he was being congratu-
lated.
And love was the keynote" said
q knowing young deacon.
Eyes, love to God" said the pastor.
"And to man." added the deacon.