He Has Lifted Up the Lowly

The Story of a Merry Feast

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The boys in the loft raised their pure and unearthly voices to the arches above, resounding throughout the vast Cathedral.

Semen ejus in aeterno manebit: et thronus ejus sicut sol in conspectu meo, et sicut luna perfecta in aeternum: et testis in caelo fidelis. 

It was a simple and solemn melody, at most only four or five notes on a syllable, and the boys had sung it on many another saint's day.  The choirmaster had told them what it meant, though a few of the older boys had learned enough Latin to know it by themselves.  The evening was cold and their breath rose visibly in the air.  But for all that they were cheerful, and they could hardly keep from whispering mischievously one to another before Mass was ended. 

It was Saint Nicholas' Day, in Salisbury, England — or it could have been Bruges, in Belgium, or Burgos, in Spain, or many another cathedral town all over Europe.

"Who will it be?"
"I want it to be Hodge." 
"Hodge is your brother!" 
"Wooden head, that's why I want it to be Hodge.…