The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1914-12-26

Der, you distinctly heard the 10y |
bells" that are supposed to ring in
heaven at the witching hour of mid
night. The door is kept open all night,
so that if the Little Child happened
to come to your humble abode He
would not find the same cold reception
He found when He came to Bethle- /!
hem. And, dear fellow exile, no mat
ter what honors came to you in the
field of education in later years-you
may become Latin scholar of note
and receive degrees of scholarship
but did you ever feel a fraction of the
pride you felt that far-off Christmas
morning when your childish treble was
heard in that dear old kitchen for the
first time singing the "Adeste Fideles,"
and your dear parents looking at you
with awe, and no doubt saying to
themselves that you were surely a
great scholar? No; am sure if you
live to be hundred years old and
have all the honors and distinction
that it is possible for mortals to have,
you will never again experience like
thrill. A few minutes later you were
on your way to early Mass, and though
your new honors may have given you
feeling of maturity, still as you have
the unwonted experience of going
through the frosty fields in the dark
you find it a great comfort to take
hold of the dear mothers skirts and
cling close to her side. And as old
neighbor greeted old neighbor with
the CHEEKY Il wish you all happy
Christmas" and the response, II wish
you the same and a good many of
them, agra!" fell on your ears, how the
words brought a warmer glow to your
heart and you felt delightfully."- warm
all over!
There is not the least doubt that
since you came to the new country you
have gone to Mass every Christmas
morning with an intense longing that
you could again hear that CHEEKY IL
wish you a happy Christmas as you
heard it many time on your way to
Mass Christmas morning in the old
land. On entering the dear old chapel
your eyes were gladdened by the sight
of the crib and all that went with
it, necessary to bring before your
minds eye the mystery and the awe
of that great happening so many cen
turtles ago. You Joined again in the
singing of the "Adeste Fideles" and
other hymns during Mass, and after
ward was there ever greater honor
paid you than when the dear old par
ish priest laid his hand on your head
and blessed you and told you you were
good? You came home again through
the fields on wings Of wind, for though
you had partaken of the great Feast,
you were, after ALL just hungry little
boy or girl, and, having done your
were anxious to claim your earthly
reward of good breakfast with all
the added dainties that went with the
day. Then began the season of feast
ing. You were sometimes very sick
as result, and for time you lost in
terest in Christmas, but the next day
you were again yourself. 1t was St.
Stephens day and all sorts of mystic
rious things were to happen as a re-
suit of the pranks of the mischievous
Wren Boys" who came along singing:
THE wren. the wren, the king of all
birds,
St. Stephens day she was caught in
the furze.
Although she is little, her family is
great,
Get up, landlady, and give us treat"
You never knew who the Wren
Boys were, though your own brother
may be one of them, for they were
masked and disguised in all manner
of ways. You never knew, either, why
the poor little defenseless wren should
be chased and caught and then placed
on little tree somewhat like the
Christmas tree in this country, which
they gaily decked with ribbons, after
which they (the Wren Boys') went
from house to house, singing the old
jingle just quoted, and demanding toll.
1t was all part of the season, and as
such you accepted it. The rejoicing
lasted till the Epiphany, after which
the older folk settled down.to the seri.
GUS business of life, for was it not the
season of matchmaking, when numer.
GUS marriages took place, bringing a
delightful season of merrymaking for
young and old, which ended in a blaze
of glory on "Shrove Tuesday," after
which all ended to commence the long
penitential season of Lent.
Could anything be ever again like