Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1922-12-07
NUMBER 6
PhilOkalean Number
Silent Prayers of Yuletide

years old. At that time terrible fe-
yer ragged through Michigan and took
his mother and father away, which
left him to make his own way in the
world because the rest of his relatives
were across the ocean.
Anne Carlton, his "benefactress" ev-
err since she first met Haydn, had acted
as a missionary in her own county, but
sometimes, even she became doubtful
of her success.
Haydn couldn't really be called igno-
rant in worldly affairs, but when he
was very young, too young to under
stand, he had read that the Bible had
little history in it, that the greater
part of it was written for pleasure,
and that as far as truth was concerned
it contained no more than the works
of Milton.
1t was almost eighteen years
after the dreadful fever had subsidized
until Anne came to the rescue and her
attempts had been wholly unwearying.
1t was nearing Christmas, and one
night Haydn, seating himself upon a
cushion made of pine needles bound
with willow, in his stout little cabin
made of rough hewn logs, began
thinking very seriously upon the SUBJ
ject. Did he doubt Anne's truthful
ness? That was almost impossible
for never had she lied, really lied to
him, and anyway why would she tell
him such a thing if she did not really
know it to be true?
Then into his memory flashed the
scene of her once asking him with
tears in her eyes-"Wouldn' it be bet
ter to believe in God, Haydn, for then
no harm could come to you, and, any
way, it wouldn't hurt you to look for
ward to bright and glorious here
after, because, when you die, if it
would be a false impression, that
would be the end and you wouldn't
even be disappointed? But just sup
pose Haydn, that you didn't believe
but she couldn't finish for she had bro
ken down so completely that talk was
Impossible. Then in silence they walk
ed on-and after seeing her safely
home Haydn had come to his cabin.
Reviewing this scene had made Haydn
fairly shake, and right there, while he
sat thus, he resolved positively to try
out this plan that Anne told him she
and so many other christians followed.
So earnestly had he been thinking it
all out that when it had racked his
brain entirely he turned his face to-
ward the whispering pines, and as
they told him to be true he had fallen
asleep, before five minutes had inter-
vened.
When he awoke the next morning
he wondered as to his position, but
suddenly it all came back to him.
He then arose and after eating
breakfast of raw meat and corn pone,
(Which friendly neighboring Indians
had taught him to make) he started
off, gun upon his shoulder, to try his
luck, for it was the day before Christ
mas and he wanted a good, big Christ
mas dinner.
Throughout the day luck had been
his and he had turned his steps home
ward.
Christmas eve had at last arrived,
and even tho the last bright rays of
the sun had faded away, the Indian
tents were visible to the weary hunters
eyes. The Michigan woods were per-
fumed by the whispering pines, and the
tents of the lonely Indians stood on
thick carpet of pine needles. A limpid
stream flowed by the side of this In
dian village. Beside this stream fire
that had been made of pine cones and
nine limbs earlier in the evening burn
ed perfumedly and merrily. AS the
hunter gazed on this beautiful scene
he espied seven Indians dressed In
their most gaudy costumes and deco
rated in gay war paint, tiptoeing
through the woods in moccasined feet.
AS the Indians gathered around the
fire they looked lonely and sad, but the
CHEEKY fire. the scent of burning pine,
the musical ripple of the stream and
the beautiful sunset (made purposely
for Christmas eve) must have filled
their hearts with Christmas, for they
humbly knelt around the fire and with
faces turned heavenward, offered "a
prayer to their great "Manitou."
The hunter, by their upturned faces
and clasped hands, could tell that
they were praying with hearts bub-
bling over with the spirit of Yule-
tide" This touched the wornout hunt
er's heart and he too knelt by the crest
of the mountain for the same purpose.
When he arose the sky was scarlet
and gold, and as this slowly, slowly
faded away the light hearted hunter,
whose earnest prayer had given him
new zeal, could but dimly see the In
dams. Thy were going slowly toward
their tents, but their faces were true
The hunter stood at the crest OF the
mountain until it had grown quite
dark and until the Indians could no
longer be seen.