CHRISTMAS 200,000 B.C.

It was Christmas in the year 200,000 B.C. It is true that it was not called Christmas then--our ancestors at that date were not much given to the celebration of religious festivals--but, taking the Gregorian calendar and counting backward just 200,000 plus 1887 years this particular day would be located. There was no formal celebration, but, nevertheless, a good deal was going on in the neighborhood of the home of Fangs. Names were not common at the time mentioned, but the more advanced of the cave-dwellers had them. Man had so far advanced that only traces of his ape origin remained, and he had begun to have a language. It was a queer "clucking" sort of language, something like that of the Bushmen, the low type of man yet to be found in Africa, and it was not very useful in the expression of ideas, but then primitive man didn't have many ideas to express. Names, so far as used, were at this time derived merely from some personal quality or peculiarity.

Fangs was so called because of his huge teeth. His mate was called She Fox; his daughter, not Nellie, nor Jennie, nor Mamie--young ladies did not affect the "ie" then--but Red Lips. She was, for the age, remarkably pretty and refined. She could cast eyes which told a story at a suitor, and there were several kinds of snake she would not eat. She was a merry, energetic girl, and was the most useful member of the family in tree-climbing. She was an only child and rather petted. Her father or mother rarely knocked her down with a very heavy club when angry, and after her fourteenth year rarely a.s.saulted her at all. So far as She Fox was concerned, this kindness largely resulted from discretion, the daughter having in the last encounter so belabored the mother that she was laid up for a week. The father abstained chiefly because the daughter had become useful. Red Lips was now eighteen.

Fangs was a cave-dweller. His home was sumptuously furnished. The floor of the cave was strewn with dry gra.s.s, something that in most other caves was lacking. Fangs was a prominent citizen. He was one of the strongest men in the valley. He had killed Red Beard, another prominent citizen, in a little dispute over priority of right to possession of a dead mastodon discovered in a swamp, and had for years been the terror of every cave man in the region who possessed anything worth taking.

On this particular morning, which would have been Christmas morning had it not come too early in the world's history, Fangs left the cave after eating the whole of a water-fowl he had killed with a stone the night before and some half dozen field mice which his wife had brought in. She Fox and Red Lips had for breakfast only the bones of the duck and some roots dug in the forest. Fangs carried with him a huge club, and in a rough pouch made of the skin of some small wild animal a collection of stones of convenient size for throwing. This was before man had invented the bow or even the crude stone ax. He came back in a surly mood because he had found nothing and killed nothing, but he brought a companion with him. This companion, whom he had met in the woods, was known as Wolf, because his countenance reminded one of a wolf. He could hardly be called a gentleman, even as times and terms went then. He was evidently not of an old family, for he possessed something more than a rudimentary tail, and, had his face looked less like that of a wolf, it would have been that of a baboon. He was hairy, and his speech of rough gutturals was imperfect. He could p.r.o.nounce but few words. He was, however, very strong, and Fangs rather liked him.

What Fangs did when he came in was to propose a matrimonial alliance.

That is, he grasped his daughter by the arm and led her up to Wolf, and then pointing to an abandoned cave in the hillside not far distant, pushed them toward it. They did not have marriage ceremonies 200,000 B.C. Wolf, who had evidently been informed of Fangs's desire and who was himself in favor of the alliance, seized the girl and began dragging her off to the new home and the honeymoon. She resisted, and shrieked, and clawed like a wild-cat. Her mother, She Fox, came running out, club in hand, but was promptly knocked down by Fangs, who then dragged her into the cave again. Meanwhile the bridegroom was hauling the bride away through furze and bushes at a rapid rate. Red Lips had ceased to struggle, and was thinking. Her thoughts were not very well defined nor clear, but one thing she knew well--she did not want to live in a cave with Wolf. She had a fancy that she would prefer to live instead with Yellow Hair, a young cave man who had not yet selected a mate, and who was remarkably fleet of foot. They were now very near the cave, and she knew that unless she exerted herself housekeeping would begin within a very few moments. Wolf was strong, but slow of movement. Red Lips was only less swift than Yellow Hair. An idea occurred to her. She bent her head and buried her strong teeth deep in the wrist of the man who was half-carrying, half-dragging her through the underwood.

With a howl which justified his name, Wolf for an instant released his hold. That instant allowed the girl's escape. She leaped away like a deer and darted into the forest. Yelling with pain and rage, Wolf pursued her. She gained on him steadily as she ran, but there was a light snow upon the ground, and she could be followed by the trail which her pursuer took up doggedly and determinedly. He knew that he could tire her out and catch her in time. He solaced himself for her temporary escape by thinking, as he ran, how fiercely he would beat his bride before starting for the cave again, and as he thought his teeth showed like those of a dog of to-day.

The chase lasted for hours, and Red Lips had gained perhaps a mile upon her pursuer when her strength began to flag. The pace was telling upon her. She had run many miles. She was almost hopeless of escape when she emerged into a little glade, where sat a man gnawing contentedly at a raw rabbit. He leaped to his feet as the girl appeared, but a moment later recognized her and smiled. The man was Yellow Hair. He reached out part of the rabbit he was devouring, and Red Lips, whose breakfast had, as already mentioned, been a light one, tore at it and consumed it in a moment. Then she told of what had happened.

"We will kill Wolf, and you shall live with me," said Yellow Hair.

Red Lips a.s.sented eagerly, and the two consulted together. Near them was a hill, one side of which was a precipice. At the base of the precipice ran a path. The result of the consultation was that Yellow Hair left the girl, and making a swift circuit, came upon the precipice from the farther side, and crouched low upon its summit. The girl ran along the path at the bottom of the declivity for some distance, then, entering a defile which crossed it at right angles, herself made a turn, climbed the hill and joined Yellow Hair. From where they were lying they could see the glade they had just left.

Wolf entered the glade, and noted where the footsteps of the girl and those of a man came together. For a moment or two he appeared troubled and suspicious; then his face cleared. He saw that the tracks had diverged again. He had recognized the man's tracks as those of Yellow Hair.

"Yellow Hair is afraid of my strong arm," he thought. "He dare not stay with Red Lips. I shall catch her soon and beat her and take her with me."

The two crouching upon the precipice watched his every movement. They had rolled to the edge of the declivity a rock as huge as they could control, and now together held it poised over the pathway. Wolf came hurrying along, his head bent down like that of a hound on the scent of game. He reached a spot just beneath the two, and then with a sudden united effort they shoved over the rock. It thundered down upon the unfortunate Wolf with an accuracy which spoke well for the eyes and hands of the lovers. The man was crushed horribly. The two above scrambled down, laughing, and Yellow Hair took from the dead Wolf a necklace of claws and fastened it proudly upon his own person.

"Now we will go to my cave," said he.

"No," said Red Lips; "my father will look for Wolf to-morrow, and will find him. Then he will come and kill us. We must go and kill him to-night."

"Yes," said Yellow Hair.

Hand in hand the two started for the cave of Fangs. The side hill in which it was situated was very steep, and the lovers thought they could duplicate the affair with Wolf. "We must cripple him, anyway," said Yellow Hair, "for I am not strong enough to fight him alone. His club is heavy."

They reached the vicinity of the cave and crept above it. Having, with great difficulty, secured a rock in position to be rolled down, they waited for Fangs to appear. He came out about dusk, and stretched out his arms lazily, when the two above released the rock. It rolled down swiftly and with great force, but there was no such sheer drop afforded as when Wolf was killed, and Fangs heard the stone coming and almost eluded it. It caught one of his legs, as he tried to leap aside, and broke it. Fangs fell to the ground.

With a yell of triumph Yellow Hair bounded to where the crippled man lay and began pounding him upon the head with his club. Fangs had a very thick head. He struggled vigorously, and succeeded in catching Yellow Hair by the wrist. Then he drew the younger man to him and began to throttle him. The case of Yellow Hair was desperate. Fangs's great strength was too much for him. His stifled yells told of his agony.

It was at this juncture that Red Lips demonstrated her quality as a girl of decision and of action. A sharp fragment of slate, several pounds in weight, lay at her feet. She seized it and bounded forward to where the struggle was going on. The back of Fangs's head was fairly exposed. The girl brought down the sharp stone upon it just where the head and spinal column joined, and the crashing thud told of the force of the blow.

Delivered with such strength upon such a spot there could be but one result. The man could not have been killed more quickly. Yellow Hair released himself from the dead giant's embrace and rose to his feet.

Then, after a short breathing time, to make a.s.surance sure, he picked up his club and battered the head of Fangs until there could be no chance of his resuscitation. The performance was unnecessary, but neither Yellow Hair nor Red Lips was aware of the fact. Their knowledge of anatomy was limited. Neither knew the effect of such a blow delivered properly at the base of the brain.

Yellow Hair finally ceased his exercise and rested on his club. "Shall we go to my cave now?" said he.

"Why should we?" said Red Lips. "Let us take this cave. There is dry gra.s.s on the floor."

They entered the cave. She Fox, who had witnessed what had occurred, sat in one corner, and looked up doubtfully as they entered. "I am tired," said Yellow Hair, and he laid himself down and went to sleep.

She Fox looked at her daughter. "I killed three hedgehogs to-day," she whispered.

The new mistress of the cave looked at her kindly. "Go out and dig some roots," she said, "and come back with them, and then with them and the hedgehogs we will have a feast."

She Fox went out and returned in an hour with roots and nuts. Red Lips awakened Yellow Hair, and all three fed ravenously and merrily. It was a great occasion in the cave of the late Fangs. There was no such Christmas feast, at the same time a wedding feast, in any other cave in all the region. And the sequel to the events of the day was as happy as the day itself. Yellow Hair and Red Lips somehow avoided being killed, and grew old together, and left a numerous progeny.

THE CHILD

There was a man who was called upon to write a Christmas article for a great newspaper. He had been a newspaper man himself at one time and it occurred to him, in all reverence, that if some modern daily publication could, nearly 1900 years ago, have reported faithfully all it could learn regarding the Birth in Bethlehem, there might now be fewer doubters in the world. He imagined what a conscientious representative of the Daily Augustinian, had such newspaper existed in Jerusalem, might have written concerning what was the greatest happening in the story of all mankind since the days of Moses and the Shepherd Kings.

Rarely has man worked harder than did this person, who, for a month or so--he had studied it all years before--sought the certain details of the historical story of the Christ. He re-read his Josephus; he sought new sources of information, and called to his aid men who knew most along the lines of the outstanding spokes of the main question. Then he lost himself as a reporter of the Daily Augustinian, and this--headlines and all--is what he wrote:

THE BIRTH OF THE CHILD

IS THEIR MESSIAH COME?

OLD JEWISH PROPHECY DECLARED FULFILLED IN THE BIRTH OF A GREAT PRINCE.

THE STRANGENESS OF THE STORY.

A CHILD BORN IN A STABLE IN BETHLEHEM a.s.sERTED TO BE THE CHRIST.

THE ACCOUNT.

A strange story comes to the Daily Augustinian from the suburb of Bethlehem, the result of which has been to create deep feeling among the Jewish residents. It is a.s.serted that the Messiah prophesied in their books of worship has come, and that there will be a revolution in the religious world. This belief seems to be spreading among the poor, but is not concurred in by the more wealthy nor by the rabbis who officiate in the temple, though one of them, named Zacharias, is a believer. Upon the first knowledge gained of this reported marvel every effort was made by the Augustinian to learn all possible concerning it. The account was that the Messiah had come in the form of a babe, born in the stable of an inn at Bethlehem, and a trustworthy member of the Augustinian's staff was sent to the place at once. Here is his account:

It was learned before Bethlehem was reached by the reporter that the story of the Child had first been circulated by those in charge of the flocks kept for sacrifice in the Jewish temple. These are shepherds of an intelligent cla.s.s who a.s.sociate with the priests, and whose pastures are very near the city on the Bethlehem road. It was thought best to interview these men before seeking the Child. They were found without difficulty, and told their story simply, a story so remarkable that it is impossible to determine what comment should be made upon it.

The head shepherd, an intelligent and evidently thoroughly honest man of about forty years of age, spoke for all present. "We were watching our flocks as usual on the night concerning the occurrences of which you ask," he said, "when all at once the sky became full of a great light.

It was wonderful. We looked up, and there in the midst of the light appeared a form which I cannot describe, it was so bright and dazzling.

It spoke to us; spoke in a voice like nothing that can be conceived of for its sweetness, saying that the Savior we have so long awaited had been born to us, and that we might know Him because we should find Him in Bethlehem wrapped in His swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. The wonderful figure had but ceased speaking when the whole world above seemed filled with similar forms, and there came from the heavens such music, such sounds of praising, as I cannot convey an idea of to you more than I can of the figure. We were awestricken at first, and then with one accord we started for Bethlehem. Then another strange thing happened. A great light seemed to float above and ahead of us until we reached Bethlehem, when it hung suspended over the inn. And there we found the Child."

"Is the Child the Messiah of your race? Do you believe it?"

"I _know_!" was the answer. "It is the Messiah!" And that all the shepherds believe was apparent. They appear intelligent and honest and straightforward of speech. It is incomprehensible. The next step was to visit Bethlehem.

There is but one inn in Bethlehem; there was but one place in which to seek the Child. Thither went the seeker after facts. The inn is a plain structure of the usual stone-work of the hillside towns, and the stable, extending backward from the house proper, is largely an excavation in the rock. There is a narrow entrance at the side as well as one through the house. About the gates of the inn stood a number of people, the look upon their faces indicating that they were aware of the great news to their race, but all silent in their joy or disbelief or whatever sentiment affected them. The visitor was shown through the inn into the stable. There were the man, the woman, and the Child. They chanced to be alone at the time.

Of the Child it may be said that it is a beautiful male infant, nothing more, to the ordinary eye, and conducting itself not differently from any babe of its age. It clings to its mother's bosom, knowing nothing of the world, and as yet, caring nothing. The man is a sober-faced Jew, apparently about thirty years of age. The woman would attract attention anywhere, for she is one of the fair women of Nazareth, and even among those so noted for their beauty she must have ranked foremost, so sweet of face is she. She is seemingly not yet twenty years of age, with the dark hair, Oriental features, and wonderful eyes of the women of her cla.s.s and town, but with an added expression which makes one think of the angels of which the Jewish writers tell. That she herself believes she is the mother of the Messiah, that the Child she has borne is the Christ, does not admit of doubt. Even as she clasped Him to her breast there was awe mingled with the affection in her look, a devotion beyond even that of motherhood. The man, it was apparent, shared with her in the faith. He was asked to tell the story of the miraculous birth, and stepping aside a little from the woman and the Child, he talked gravely and earnestly, answering all questions, since, as he said, it was his duty to tell the great thing to all the world, to Jew and pagan alike.

He was betrothed to the young woman Mary, he said, months ago, in the town of Nazareth, in Galilee, where he is a carpenter. They were to have been wedded, but during the interval between the betrothal and the marriage there came to her a figure, which was that of an angel of the Lord, saying to her that a son would be born to her the paternity of which would be supernatural, and that this son would be the Messiah told of in Jewish prophecy. She informed her betrothed of this, and that she had evidence that what had been told her would occur. At first Joseph was greatly troubled and resolved that the marriage should not take place lest a great disgrace should come upon him. He loved the young woman, and did not want to harm her in the eyes of the world, yet there seemed no alternative but to refuse a consummation of the betrothal. It was at this time that there came to him, as there had come to her, an angelic visitation, in which was confirmed what she had told him, and in which he was commanded to marry her. He was told this in a dream, and believed, and did as he was commanded, though as yet he has been the husband of Mary but in name.

After their marriage came the recent order from Rome for the census of all the Jews, and as it was accompanied by the direction that all should be enumerated, not where they might be living, but where they were registered at birth, Joseph, who was originally from Bethlehem, was compelled to make the journey. He was accompanied by his young wife, who rode upon a donkey, her husband walking all the way from Nazareth beside her. Upon their arrival in Bethlehem they found the place so full of those called in by the census that there was no place for them to lodge.