far out of his way, started off on a light's chase or
rather a star's chase. He is a very pious man, that Goanese
skipper; he was here for two Masses this morning. He has a great
devotion to Our Lady, as I believe, and he knows how to pray. He
vowed a silver star to Our Lady Our Lady of the Lake, if she
would but bring him through with his ship safe. He made a fair
voyage after all. But he thanked the star that led you off from
him for it, say rather Her who kindled that star. He is a man of
prayer, the sort of prayer that invites miracles.' I was very
silent. I knelt before the statue a little. Then I said 'Good-bye.'
When I had said it I looked at two of the stars (that were not
silver) curiously. Were they not Belgian officers' stars, and
were they not likely to have a tragical history? 'Ask the silver
star-man, please,' I said, 'to pray for God's miracle of peace.
It does seem to me as if his prayers might do a lot of good. I'd
give Our Lady of the Lake a whole Southern-Crossful of stars
should peace come before the year's out.' Did he forget to ask
that star-man for his prayers?

EPILOGUE

[AFRICA AND HER GODMOTHER.]

With shoes of crystal peace and glee
Christmas his clients proves:
They're misfits for those masters pale
And their white lady-loves;
But O they fit black boys and girls
Who clean their knives and stoves!

I slipt from out the white men's church,
The northern chants rang cold,
And with the preacher's war-time words
My heart it would not hold,
Gay hymns and I alike had grown
In exile grave and old.

I said 'I'll wander from the town
This cheerless Christmas Day.'
A church stood up beside my road,
And I turn'd in to pray.
Buff-brick its walls were, and its roof
Of ridg'd unlovely grey.

I enter'd in, and joy was there
The Mass had just begun.
They filled the place from screen to door
The children of the sun.
Me seem'd that southern sun was glass'd
In eyes of ev'ryone.

The server-men had lawn and lace
And crimson pageantry,
And boys were in their best, and girls
Wore kerchiefs bright to see.
Me seem'd those bare brown feet were shod
With crystal peace and glee.

The incense-smoke it skein 'd and spir'd,
The vowell'd hymns rang clear,
A shrill bell rung by a brown hand
Said Christ was very near.
Me seem'd a sun-tann'd Angel stoopt
And caroll'd in mine ear.

I Bless God for this our Christmas Ball
About our Christmas Board!
Our Church that faery Godmother
Her child