December 23, 2016

The following appeared in the Ontario Reformer, December 23, 1922 (page 12)

The Christmas Spirit in Northland

To-day I looked upon a world that is fair to see; its virgin-white drapery, is green and grey mottled woodlands, clear skies welcome sunlight, the cheerful song of chickadees and blue-jays, the antics of the scolding squirrels. Underfoot the snow scrunched and squeaked, signifying it was just cold enough for a comfortable ramble, and so I visited the deer “yard” and was glad to see the wolves had not yet molested them, their criss-cross runaways along which I surprised several who peered at one with large, pathetic eyes and then walked into the deeper shade of the cedars. How picturesque the beaver-house looked, miniature like mosques among the tamarac from which a lone Arctic Wood-pecker tapped for its dinner. Along the glare ice I walked and slid a crossing the slithering like trail of three otter and a mink. I had seen and enjoyed nature in her true shape. And now I lean back in the old rocking chair and the flickering spluttering fireplace awakens memories. And my thoughts drift back towards civilization and crowed cities and I remember that on this the 25th day of December, the world that we know of becomes a veritable brotherhood of man, on this day at least the disparity in the class distinction is wiped away in a common emotion of good-will. It stairs up our dormant feelings, it makes us forget our cares and troubles for this one day at least we are happy. Why cannot we live more days in the year in the same spirit, why confine all our goodness, charitable inclinations and good will to one day?  Humanity is strangely ignorant of its simplest emotions. In a vague way we know that happiness and pleasure comes from our consciousness of doing right, but we don’t always live up to this precept, excepting perhaps this one day of the year. Who knows but from the well spring of this most memorable time that brotherhood of man may arise to glorify in truth that old, old saying, “Peace on earth, good will to men”. And here buried as it were in the depths of the Northland woods, far removed from the sound of the church bells and close fellowship of men, one still feels that happy, contented-like infection that Christmas brings. It is good to live and be contented with your lot and look forward to the coming year with the same spirit that this day of days brings to come.
-Miskokway.

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