andescent
hydrogen, loved fancies flashed into the minds of the elder race,
born of the flicker of flame on the imagination of a primitive
people, backed by dark forests, night and wind-riding storms. If
he have the hardihood let him light his Yule log in the winter
twilight of the snowy woods. He will do well to pick a spot where
a dense growth of pines shelters him from the wind and a steep
ledge makes for him fireplace and chimney at once. Then it does
not matter if the snow is deep on the ground and the air filled
with flying flakes; his hearth may soon glow with comfort. Even
from a materialistic point of view the ancients did well to
worship fire. Out of it was to come more or less directly all the
material progress of the race toward civilization.

*****

The pines, whose presence in the woods is always a benediction,
stand ready with the best fire kindling in the world. Their twigs
light at the flare of a match. The larger limbs will fire from
these and send flames leaping high. On a fire well started thus
between backlog and forestick he may pile such dry, hard wood as
he has at hand. The forest will give him plenty if he is on
friendly terms with it. The forest will give him more, too. Out of
its mysterious darkness will slip easily into his mind the old-time
loved and half-forgotten legends that grew out of the winter
night in the twilight of the early days of the Aryan race. At the
time of the winter solstice it was the custom of the gods to leave
their dwellings in heaven and come down to earth. In the shout of
the wind in the pines he may well hear Wotan riding overhead in
his gray cloak and broad-brimmed hat pressed low over his face.

He may glimpse his white steed whirling by and see plainly in the
upflaring light of his fire the army of white souls that scurries
behind the winter-god as he rides on his way. Black eagles fly
with him and the wolves of the air gallop on before. The world-ash
was a gigantic evergreen in whose branches were the abodes of
giants and dwarfs as well as men and gods. Screened by night
within the forest this tree may well be near with the springs of
being and non-being within its roots and the Nornen sitting by,
silent and grave. He may catch the gleam of the eyes of Loki as
the firelight glints on the frost crystals among the snow-laden
branches. Thus easily does a thousand years of civilization slip
from us when face to face with night and the forest.

Yet if night and