es
could approve; mixing up the deeds of the Christian saints with old
heroic legends; seeing Balder's beauty in Christ and the strength of
Thor in Samson; attributing magic to S. John; swearing, as of old,
bloody oaths in God's name, over the gilded boar's-head; burning the
yule-log, and cutting sacred boughs to grace their new-built
churches.

The songs of choirs and sound of holy bells, and superstitious
reverence for the mass, began to tell upon the people; and soon the
echo of their old religion only swelled upon the ear at intervals,
attaching itself to times of more than usual sanctity. Christmas was
one of these times, and the old faith threw around its celebration a
fantastic light. Many customs of the genial Pagan life remained;
they seemed harmless when the sense of joy was Christian. The
Druid's mistletoe graced the church porches of England and of
France, and no blood lingered on its berries. Christmas thus became
a time of extraordinary mystery. The people loved it as connecting
their old life with the new religion, perhaps unconsciously, though
every one might feel that Christmas was no common Christian feast.
On its eve strange wonders happened: the thorn that sprang at
Glastonbury from the sacred crown which Joseph brought with him from
Palestine, when Avalon was still an island, blossomed on that day.
The Cornish miners seemed to hear the sound of singing men arise
from submerged churches by the shore, and others said that bells,
beneath the ground where villages had been, chimed yearly on that
eve. No evil thing had power, as Marcellus in 'Hamlet' tells us, and
the bird of dawning crowed the whole night through. One might
multiply folklore about the sanctity of Christmas, but enough has
been said to show that round it lingered long the legendary spirit
of old Paganism. It is not to Jews, or Greeks, or Romans only that
we owe our ancient Christmas fancies, but also to those half-heathen
ancestors who lovingly looked back to Odin's days, and held the old
while they embraced the new.

Let us imagine Christmas Day in a mediaeval town of Northern England.
The cathedral is only partly finished. Its nave and transepts are
the work of Norman architects, but the choir has been destroyed in
order to be rebuilt by more graceful designers and more skilful
hands. The old city is full of craftsmen, assembled to complete the
church. Some have come as a religious duty, to work off their tale
of sins by bodily lab