Have still so long to give or ask!
I, who so much with book and pen
Have toiled among my fellow men,

Am weary, thinking of your task.

O little hearts, that throb and beat
With such impatient, feverish heat,

Such limitless and strong desires!
Mine, that so long has glowed and burned,
With passions into ashes turned,

Now covers and conceals its fires.

O little souls, as pure and white

And crystaline as rays of light

Direct from heaven, their source divine!
Refracted through the mist of years,

How red my setting sun appears,

How lurid looks this soul of mine!

THE CHRISTMAS HOLY-DAY.

FROM THE GERMAN BY THE EDITOR.

So joyfully as this morning, Auguste and Charlotte had not awoke out of sleep for a whole year. The whole night they had dreamed of the brilliant lights of the Christmas tree, which had so gloriously shone upon them yesterday evening, when, after patient waiting, the little bell had called them into the parlor. They had dreamd also of the many beautiful presents which their parents had hung on the tree for them, to brighten their Christmas joy. Reluctantly had they torn themselves away from this scene of joy last night when they retired to rest. But now, as the friendly morning sun began to shine again upon the snow-covered roofs, they appeared once more dressed up as for Sunday, ready to review the tree and their presents, and to make themselves glad with Christmas joy.

The morning passed pleasantly away. Towards mid-day when the rays of the sun had made it pleasant out of doors, and even the icicles at the eves began to melt, Auguste proposed to her sister, that they would go in company with their brother, to a wood near by, to see the spruce trees which the dear heavenly father had so. beautifully decorated for the Christmas festival. Charlotte was. ready, and brother William was easily induced to accompany them, especially as he could thereby render a pleasant service to his littlesisters.

Quickly they threw their cloaks around them, put on their warm winter bonnets, and thus protected against the cold, they leaped. forth cheerfully in the face of winter. True the air was sharp, and bit their cheeks not a little; but warmly clothed, they did not heed that, and were soon in the grove of spruce. Here was a beautiful

sight. How the green twigs were overlaid with white frost, in which the rays of the sun reflected like diamonds!

"Oh how beautiful!" said Auguste. "The trees shine almost as gloriously as our Christmas tree with all its lights." She became suddenly silent. She saw not far from them a boy in miserable half-torn clothing, shivering from the cold, holding his benumbed hands to his mouth, and weeping bitterly! Beside him lay a little bundle of brush-wood, which he had evidently just gathered.

"What may be the matter with the poor boy," said Auguste full of sympathy, "that he should be so sad and distressed even on Christmas day?"

The children went up to him and asked him why he wept. "Oh!" said the boy, "my father is sick, and my mother is not able to earn enough to procure us bread and keep us warm. Thus I must gather wood to keep father warm. I do it cheerfully; father is so good, and mother weeps so much; but to-day it is so cold!" And he began to weep still more bitterly.

Meanwhile the children had an opportunity to examine the boy. They easily saw that his poor clothes could not protect him against the weather, and that he was weeping because he was so cold. For some time they all stood and viewed the poor boy in silence, and tears filled the eyes of Auguste. Then she put her hand into her little basket, took out the little money she had in it, and gave it to the boy. Charlotte and their brother did the same; for all had been deeply moved by the little boy's miseries.

He was much surprised at this, and looked at his benefactors in silence. But soon he brushed away his tears, and attempted to give expression to his thanks and his joy. "O how glad mother will be " he said: "now she can make a soup for father, and heat up the room so that we can all be warmed." Then he shouldered his bundle of wood and hasted away.

The children accompained him for some distance, and on the way he had to tell them who his parents were, and where they lived. "If your parents are so poor, you have hardly received any Christmas present?" said William. "Ah," said the boy, "if I only could have had something to eat! But mother had nothing to give me, and so I went hungry to bed."

Silently, and in earnest reflection, the children went on their way; and when they got home, the first thing they did was to tell their mother of the little boy, whom they had met, who had received no Christmas gifts, and besides was compelled to go to bed hun

gry!

"Mother," said Auguste, "brother William has some old clothes which would be useful to the poor boy. Charlotte and I will hunt up something for him, and if you will allow it, we will present it to him." Gladly did their mother give her assent. Meanwhile their father also came in; and as he knew the father of the boy to be a very honest and industrious man, he also resolved to do something for the unfortunate family.

"How would it be," said the mother," if we were to get all these things together as quickly as possible, and send for the boy to

come here this evening, and then present it all to him, so as to produce a suitable surprise. Then he could also have a Christmas joy, at this time when all things are joyous."

"O, that is excellent," exclaimed Auguste, and immediately ran with the other children to gather up the presents with which they intended to surprise the poor boy.

When they had collected all the pieces of clothing, Charlotte said: "I know something more which would be excellent. If we only could also prepare a Christmas tree for the boy. How he would rejoice to see the many little bright lights!"

The sisters were much pleased with the proposition, and Wil. liam at once offered his services to carry it into effect. For a small bit of money he bought a spruce tree. The little girls took some lights, also sweetmeats from their Christmas tree, and so in a short time all was arranged.

With almost more impatience than yesterday did the children await the evening. Just as it was growing dark they requested their mother to send for the boy. Now they lit the lights, arranged the presents under the Christmas tree, and awaited with joyful expectation the time when he should arrive.

He was soon there. The door was opened for him. When he had entered, and it was told him, that these were his Christmas presents, and that his parents should also receive help, the boy stood in mute surprise. Now he gazed at the lights, now at the presents, while tears of joy fell from his eyes. The children rejoiced around him, their hearts beat with a pure pleasure, and often afterwards they spoke of this evening, and declared that it was the happiest Christmas festival of their lives!

THINGS WORTH FORGETTING.

It is almost frightful, and altogether humiliating, to think how much there is in the common ongoing of domestic and social life, which deserves nothing but to be instantly and forever forgotten. Yet it is equally amazing how large a class seem to have no other business but to repeat and perpetuate these very things. That is the vocation of gossips-an order of society that perpetrates more mischief than all the combined plagues of Egypt together. You may have noticed how many speeches there are which become mischievous by being heard a second time; and what an army of both sexes are sworn to see to it, that the fatal repetition shall be had. Blessed is that man or woman that can let drop all the burrs and thistles, instead of picking them up, and fastening them to the next passenger! Would we only let the vexing and malicious saying die, how fast the lacerated and scandal-ridden world would get healed and tranquilized !—Huntington.

LIFE-PICTURES FROM CHURCH HISTORY. No. 6.

AMBROSE OF SIENNA.

FROM THE GERMAN OF MERZ.

BY L. H. S.

In the far renowned city of Sienna in Italy there quietly lived the noble Bonatacha Sansedone with his wife Justina. Both had descended from warlike families, which had become rich and powerful in the war with the Saracens. On the sixteenth of April 1220, during the absence of her husband, the wife was more troubled than rejoiced at the birth of a son. The child was very much deformed, his legs and arms crooked, and his countenance dark and ugly. Once when the nurse had the child in her lap at the frontdoor, an old man looking at it sharply, the nurse endeavored to conceal it from his gaze, but he cried out in a prophetic tone: "Do not conceal that child; the deformed boy will yet become the light and the ornament of the city." The fervent petitions of his mother. so far prevailed, that the ill-shapen son improved and thence grew up in body and soul to her joy. He evidenced quite early a striving after higher things. Nothing was more highly prized than the sight of a priest, and books were his occupation early and late. When the children were playing together, he built the most beautiful little altars with crosses, before which he kneeled in his childlike way and prayed. He soon made great progress in learning, that is, he learned the psalms and had committed to memory whole sermons, before he was seven years old. When he saw strangers or paupers, he took them by the hand and led them to his father's house to refresh and give them succor. When nine years old, he began to fast on the holy days and to rise in the middle of the night for prayer. He preferred to associate with the clergy.

He entreated his wealthy father and obtained permission to entertain five pilgrims every Sunday, to whom he also made presents. The pious scholar placed himself on Saturdays at the gate of the city, through which all the strangers coming from the countries on that side of the Alps must pass. Out of those who asked alms he selected five, whom he conducted to a chamber already prepared, waited on them, cleaned their shoes, washed their feet and helped them to dress themselves. Early in the morning he would stir them up and go to Mass with them; after a walk through the principal churches of the city he would bring them back to breakfast, give them money for the wayside and then let them go after he had asked an interest in their prayers.

He manifested like sympathy for those suffering in prison. He

visited them on Fridays, and when he discovered such as were in need, he provided them on some week-day secretly with food and money. On Sundays he visited the city Hospital to aid in the nursing of the sick and to administer to their bodily and spiritual wants. He went likewise with full hands to visit out-door pensioners. Wherever misfortune befell any one, there this noble youth appeared as a friendly comforter.

It was to him a source of special pleasure to remove anger and to reconcile enemies. He acted as a mediator of peace between many deadly enemies. And he was not less zealous in defending widows in trouble and in protecting orphans that were maltreated.

With holy meditations the growing youth avoided entirely the practises of youth. Instead of joyous companies and festivals, he Bought solitary places. On one occasion, when he had declined an invitation to the celebration of the marriage of a relative, and had gone to a Cistersian cloister outside the city, an old man in the garb of a Dominican monk met him and asking alms, addressed him in this manner: "Dost thou think that thou wilt serve God better and be more careful for thy salvation, if thou withdrawest from secular company and the celebration of marriage rites? I tell thee thou wilt have greater favor and reward from God, if thou wilt not despise to associate with the companions of thy age; for it is worth more with God to fight against the temptations and perils of the soul, than to lead a safe life in solitude as thou hast heretofore done. Do not believe that thou wilt obtain divine favor, if thou dost not contend bravely against the snares of the enemy; but it will be better for thee, if thou findest opportunity in associations with the companions of thy age to resist temptations with a strong will. Thou wilt easily in pride succeed by such abstraction from all society. Dost thou wish to remain unmarried? Art thou called to this by God? How wilt thou work out the salvation of thy soul, if thou art not able to overcome the temptations of the flesh outside of the divinely constituted state of wedlock. It is a free gift of God that he grants to some the power of leading a chaste life outside of matrimony. But wilt thou secure chastity by simply human power?"

Thus even in the midst of those monastic days, the clear voice of evangelical liberty and wisdom was heard on the high-way. But most frequently it was left on the high-way, and men ran after the long hallowed unevangelical customs of the time. Even the appearance of this free-thinking wise man was looked upon by contemporaries as Satan in disguise, seeking to tempt the pious youth. Ambrose immediately made unto himself a cross of this, fled to the cloister where he passed several days unhappily until he heard a voice, one night in his sleep: "Reject the words of the Tempter; remain true to thy resolution; God's help shall not fail thee!"

His parents desired that the youth should marry. But he announced that he would renounce all and become a monk in order that he could better serve God. His father yielded and set apart, at his son's request, a large amount of money for the good