arrow tipped with mistletoe and said: "Balder
is before thee." Heda shot and Balder fell, pierced through the heart.

In its natural state, the plant is believed to be propagated by the
missel-thrush, which feeds upon its berries, but under favourable
climatic conditions one may raise one's own mistletoe by bruising the
berries on the bark of fruit trees, where they take root readily. It
must be remembered, however, that the plant is a true parasite and
will eventually kill whatever tree gives it nourishment.

Kissing under the mistletoe was also a custom of the Druids, and in
those uncivilised days men kissed each other. For each kiss, a single
white berry was plucked from the spray, and kept as a souvenir by the
one who was kissed.

The burning of the Yule log was an ancient Christmas ceremony borrowed
from the early Scandinavians. At their feast of Juul (pronounced
_Yuul_), at the time of the winter solstice, they were wont to kindle
huge bonfires in honour of their god Thor. The custom soon made its
way to England where it is still in vogue in many parts of the
country.

One may imagine an ancient feudal castle, heavily fortified, standing
in splendid isolation upon a snowy hill, on that night of all others
when war was forgotten and peace proclaimed. Drawn by six horses, the
great Yule log was brought into the hall and rolled into the vast
fireplace, where it was lighted with the charred remnants of last
year's Yule log, religiously kept in some secure place as a charm
against fire.

As the flames seize upon the oak and the light gleams from the castle
windows, a lusty procession of wayfarers passes through, each one
raising his hat as he passes the fire which burns all the evil out of
the hearts of men, and up to the rafters there rings a stern old Saxon
chant.

When the song was finished, the steaming wassail bowl was brought out,
and all the company drank to a better understanding.

Up to the time of Henry VI, and even afterward, the Yule log was
greeted with bards and minstrelsy. If a squinting person came into the
hall while the log was burning, it was sure to bring bad luck. The
appearance of a barefooted man was worse, and a flat-footed woman was
the worst of all.

As an accompaniment to the Yule log, a monstrous Christmas candle was
burned on the table at supper; even now in St. John's College at
Oxford, there is an old candle socket of stone, ornamented with the
figure of a lamb. What generation