HOLIDAYS.

[Prologue Written for the Fourth Annual Exhibition of the Goethean Literary Society, February 22d, 1845.]

BY PROF. W. M. NEVIN.

I'm fond of Yule, and all old holy days.
So from our calendar it makes me sad,
That many names, once on whose festivals

Young hearts leapt up, and old grew young again,
Are stricken out; or if some still are held

On the dull columns of our almanacs,

They wake no joys, but hang soulless and mute,
And lonely as the harp in Tara's halls.
Gray Halloween, by superstition's wand

Touched, it is true, but fraught with wild romance-
In Scotland long revered, where by its charm
Young country folks to the broad hearth are drawn,
Through mirth and fancy more than from belief,
To mark their blazing nuts, and fondly try,
By various arts, their wished-for marriage fates-
That witching, blissful, haunted, fearful night,
In this, our unimaginative land,

Has fallen from its sphere, to be disgraced

By the mad pranks of those rude, robbing boys,

Who, for the mirth at home they cannot catch,

Run, howling, through the streets-thwacking our doors
With cabbage-heads!

Holly-wreathed Christmas, too,

Once warmly welcomed in the older world,

When good St. Nicholas, the night before,

Filled all the stockings; when the morn was waked

By carols sung outside the chamber doors,

With titterings interspersed, and pattering feet
Retreating; when in merry halls the board,
Massive and long, was pressed with richest fare,
And Hospitality, with his round face,
Stood at the head, with carver huge in hand,
And monstrous ladle deep, like lusty Sun,
Dispensing warmth and gladness with his doles;
When want was banished, selfish Trade likewise,
For Bounty ruled the hours; when church-bells rang,
And to the sacred courts all people thronged,
And prayers were said, and holy rites were done,
And anthems chanted 'mid the organ's notes;—
Christmas with us is dead. Urchins new-breeched,
'Tis true, may toddle forth and ply for gifts
All grudgingly bestowed; and youths, likewise,

Full-fledged, may keep it for their sports; but man,
Low-thoughted man, his soul intent on gain,
Can find no heart of gratitude and love
To grace the day that hailed his Saviour born.

Not that I would call up to saucy life

The worn-out mummeries of an elder world,
When, 'neath the load of pomp and pageantry,
Religion's flame was almost smothered out,
And mirth ran riot into wild excess.
But yet, it seems to me, our ancestors,
In thinning from humanity's fair tree

Its overgrowth, cropt it too close, and left
No boughs to hang its leaves and blossoms on.
Would that our fathers, when they crossed the main,
(If good St. Nicholas could not be spared,)

Had brought some elves or fairies in their ships-
Or that some small, brown-featured Manitous,
Though left by all their painted worshippers,
Had kindly staid with us. They might have stirred
Our fancies up, and drawn our sympathies
Out to the streams and woods; or by their works
Of household thrift, done in our halls at night,
They might have warmed our hearts to charity.

Tell me not now of our Convention days,

When flags are flaunting, and through crowded streets
Move long processions; or, with victory won,

Of barbacues and tar-barrels on fire.

They want true feeling; for, though faces smile,
Like on those masks outré, some critics think

Our players wore, 'tis only on one side;
The other bears a scowl, an angry scowl,
And mouth of scorn to their opponents turned.
Give me the day in whose horizon girt
All Christendom may joy. Or wish you still,
With clever, patriot love, that it be stirred,-
Let it, by strife unmarred, embrace our land,
And bathe all parties in its genial light.

Yet in our calendar two such are held.
One smiles effulgent on rich, bending fields,
Whitened for harvest, and full-mantled trees-
Our Freedom's birth-day. On chill winter's breast,
Sidelong the other gleams, with muffled rays—
His natal-day, whose arm that Freedom saved.
Of these, the first, our white-badged rivals* here-
Rivals, 'tis true, but not, like partisans,
Striving to thrust their compeers from the course,
And snatch from them the prize; but with us knit,
Pressing together towards one good-

Have chosen for their course, yearly to cast
Their kindred wreaths of eloquence and taste
Amid its bowers. While we, like evergreens,
Thus, on its lighted eve, stand forth to deck
The Patriot's day. And sure it glads us now
To see, with cares all doff'd, and swept with smiles,

* The Diagnothian Literary Society.

This bright assemblage, met to swell our joy.
Others may waste this night in ball or route,
But yet, methinks, could WASHINGTON return,
He would not join their throng, but rather come
(His heart still throbbing for his country's good)

To scenes like ours. Wear then, this night, his smile;
Indulgent towards all effort rightly aimed,

Though ever falling short. We ask no more.

ZUM EMPFANGE DES DR. SCHAFF IM MARSHALL COLLEGIUM.

[By way of locating for preservation a floating relic of the early history of Marshall College, we give place to the following German lyric. It was written by Dr. Abraham Arnold, a Student of Medicine in Mercersburg, and sung at the Serenade given to Dr. Schaff by the Students at the house of Dr. J. W. Nevin, on the evening of his reception at Mercersburg, August, 1844. The copy we give has been furnished by Dr. Steiner, of Frederick, Maryland, who says, "it is copied literatim from a copy made at the time."-ED. GUARDIAN.]

1.

Willkommen! sei willkommen,

Gib uns den Druck der Hand,
Wir heissen Dich willkommen,
Im neuen Vaterland.

2.

Sieh jeder Busen wallet,
Sieh jedes Auge fliest,
Und jede Stimme hallet,
Sei herzlich uns gegrüsst.

3.

Wir freuen uns der Güte,
Die Dich zu uns gesandt,
Und jedes Dankgemüthe,.
Sei Gott nun zugewandt.

4.

Wir singen seiner Ehre,
Und loben seine Macht,

Die im Gestürm der Meere

Sich Deiner hat gedacht.

5.

Wie lieblich ist's im Lande,

Wo Freiheit's-Fahne weht,

Hier schmertz kein Sklavenbande,

Und kein Tyrann besteht.

6.

Find hier die Heimath wieder,

Wie an der Elbe-Strand,

Find viele treue Brüder,

Wie in dem deutschen Land.

DEMAS.

BY THE EDITOR.

DEMAS, a convert, fellow-worker, and companion of Paul, it would seem, was a native of Thessalonica. He was, no doubt, brought into contact with the Christian faith through Paul, in one of his missionary journeys.

He seems at first to have been very zealous for Christianity. He followed Paul in his journeys-went with him to Rome, and was a co-worker there with him in the gospel.

He seems to have been a man of some prominence. This we may gather from the fact that he is mentioned by Paul in his greetings, as we find in his Epistle to the Colossians, and also to Philemon.

His name is twice associated with Luke, "the beloved physician,"who was a man of education-wrote the Gospel that goes by his name, and also the Acts of the Apostles-and was an eminent apostle and saint.

He at first, and for the space of two years, manifested much zeal in the cause of Christianity. This is evident, not only from his personal attachment to Paul, but also from the interest he takes in all the prominent saints in the different churches. Twice he sends them "greetings" in Paul's letters. This shows that he knew them, and was attached to them.

Paul himself had most implicitly relied upon him. For he felt his loss deeply when Demas forsook him. Hence, he urges Timothy to come to Rome to his assistance, because he, now that Demas had turned away, needed his help. "Do thy diligence to come shortly unto me, for Demas

hath forsaken me."

If we look for the ruling weakness in the character of Demas, we shall find it to be instability and indecision. He is one of those who identified himself with Christianity without fully counting the cost. He had not taken an adequate view of the difficulties, trials, and sufferings which it involved. His name, Demas, signifies "popular," and perhaps he may have had a greater fondness for popularity than his attachment to the Christian cause, at that time, was calculated to gratify.

He had also failed to have the gracious power of the new life lodged in his heart sufficiently deep to abide the storms of temptation. The foundations of his faith, or, at least, of his love and zeal, gave way. He had "built his house upon the sand." The seed "had no depth of earth."— Hence, after having endured for about two years, in an hour of fierce trial he failed, and came to the fearful purpose of turning back. "Demas hath forsaken me, having loved this present world."

The expression "hath forsaken me," is very strong in the original. It implies that he left abruptly, and with feelings of strong aversion towards Paul and the cause of Christ.

Worldliness had, no doubt, for a long time been at work in his heart,

VOL. XV.-22

gradually eating out what vitality his heart possessed. At first he would hide his inward want of interest in religion, and still feel bound by his profession to make an outward show of zeal. It was, however, a slavish service which he thus rendered. At length some circumstance afforded a fitting occasion, and he at once showed his true colors. Abruptly, harshly, and even in hatred and disgust he tore himself from his vows, and cast away his profession.

There was a reason for this. No back-slider, no one who forsakes his profession and breaks his vows, can do it soberly and deliberately. He will not take a formal, well-considered leave. He will seek an occasion. He will do it in such a way as to frame an excuse for himself. He will do it in such a way as to make it seem as if he had reason for his course, so as to put the fault and the blame upon others. He will withdraw in a fault-finding spirit. He will seek to shift the blame in some way upon the church-upon the pastor-upon some member-upon some doctrine or

custom.

Thus he will endeavor to lay the fault of his back-turning at the door of another. He will leave in abrupt anger, pretend that he was injured, and manifest strong aversion.

Let us look at this case of back-sliding a little more closely, especially as it must have affected Paul, the Church, and Demas himself.

As it affected Paul.

There is an air of sadness in the apostle's language. He is in trouble. His heart is cast down within him! He thinks now of Timothy, his own son. "Do thy diligence to come shortly unto me." He wishes to see Timothy, needing now, as he does, his sympathy and assistance.

To feel fully the effects of this sad event on Paul, we must look at the circumstances. Demas had been for two years a firm stay to the good cause. He had, by all accounts, been brought into the faith by Paul. He had cared for him. How natural that his sad defection should affect the Apostle's spirit.

They were in a strange city. Christianity was as yet, but a small interest there. Aid and sympathy were precious. We all know how encouraging is the face of a friend to us where we feel almost alone. Paul had such aid and sympathy in him who now turns his back upon him, and upon the cause that is dear to him. Paul was in prison, or about to be committed for Jesus' sake. He was in prison when he wrote the Epistle in which the fall of Demas is lamented. He was in prison under Nero. He was in prison the second time. He was in prison condemned, without friends,"At my first answer all men forsook me!"

Paul was now in his old age. Go, follow the keeper into the inner prison. See that venerable man bending over some parchment! He is writing the Epistle to Timothy. Follow his thoughts as he writes earnest words. length he comes to the close. "Demas hath forsaken me!"

You are filled with indignation against Demas. But hold! He had strong temptations. He had stood up for a persecuted cause. He had seen before him the gathering wrath of Nero. There were at Rome but few members, and they poor and their leader was in prison! How many forsake Christ for much less cause, and even for no cause! How many suffer themselves to be shaken in their allegiance to Christ, where the tempta