The Newtown bee., 1909-03-05

heafL cfaVes more than human In jury. His hammer must fall upoi some victim before the night fl spent. The priest perceives it; h, knows that his prayers have onl! been mocked. He calls the peopl, from their prostrate position, makes them sit down in solemn conclave and, then arising, declares the awfu word
 Ye men of the lowlands. ye women O,
 ThurinoIa.
 Lister and hear this verdict alone Your sins are so many. your crimes SC
 heinous
 That only your fairest son ma,
 atone"
 A cry of despair rises from the hearts of the women huddled to. gether, and blanched are the faces oi the men standing near. The priest disappears into the certer of the black circle, and soon returns, lead. ing by the hand the beautiful little boy who was the center of the pro- cession. No cry escapes those youth. ful lips, though flood of tears wells up into his pleading eyes, aud his manly frame bespeaks the horror that springs from his heart, too full for sound or groan. But, falling be- fore him or madly rushing after him. whlle calling in pleading, frantic tones, are his mother, sisters, broth CTS and host of friends. But the priest waves them aside, pushes them from him, and even treads upon the kneeling penitents, while he unfeel- ingly bears his victim to the altar above. Here he is stripped of his costly raiment, for he belonged to the royal family; and a black robe signifying the sins of the people, is placed upon him. He is then put into the dread chair of the Hammer CT, which hangs suspended from an arm of the sacred oak above the altar. And, while the warriors are preparing the great Yuletide logs which will soon blaze in fierce flames upon the altar, this time bear ing the incense of human sacrifice the High Priest intones his prayer: Hear us, Bilskirner, god of the fire
 flame,
 Ruler of spirit and C'vers of breath, Receive the ascending soul of our
 lurrst,
 And let our sins be consumed ill his
 death.
 Thus did the Hign Priest pray and the people reply, Hear us!"
 A thousand sobs are swallowed by a thousand throats as the trembling, agonized multitude await the falling of the great hammer that shall de- cree the burning of the human sacri flee. It rises, poises in the air, and is about to fall, when suddenly it is snatched from behind and hurled far down the hillside. Black rage flashes in the eye of the High Priest, and the people stand petrified by such a dar ing deed; but, before the command can be given to seize the ruffian and put him to death, a gray-headed, kindly old man steps forth to the al- tar and addresses them in gentle, tones:
 Good friends of the lowlands, kindred
 Baldur,
 bring you a message from Heaven
 above:
 This night there is born in the world
 Saviour,
 o show US that Odin is a god of love. No more shall an altar be raised to the
 Hammer,
 No mc'e shall our hearts be wrung
 by this loss;
 But once and forever our sins are
 atoned for
 By the love of this Savior who died
 on the Cross. Then St Boniface, for it was he who brought Christianity to the dark pagans of Thuringia, told them the story of Bethlehem and the angels song. All listened, charmed to still ness, except the old priest, who 5lared with threatening looks upon ;he intruder. But his god is now Dowerless, for the people all joyfully 'ush forward and rescue their fair est son, and, at the command of their new priest, cut down the bloody sen- incl of death, the hoary oak tree which was sacred to Thor. "And lere," said the Apostle, as his eyes ell on a young fir tree, standing traight and green, with it's top 'ointing toward the stars, amid the livlded ruins of the fallen oak, There