his home was a deserted, half-empty house, | dawn, the father lighted the numerous waxbarely furnished, but provided with arms lights on all the tables, and in the branches against any surprise. His daily intercourse of the Christmas tree, and then went in was with a wild, ignorant people; he even search of the eager troop, who were asaccompanied them to battle to give aid, sembled in Else's chamber. Full of exspiritual and temporal, to the wounded. pectation, they walked in couples to the festive hall, where they gave vent to their pleasure, surprise, and admiration, in loud and joyous acclamations. Jacob, alone, was absent. Every one missed him, wished for him, and pitied him for being so far away from the happy scene. All spoke of him, all felt their own pleasure diminished, since it could not be shared with him. Else, alone, was silent; but a deeper sorrow than even theirs oppressed her heart, and she would willingly have given vent to her feelings in tears. He whom she loved more and more each day, as she appreciated his self-devotion, he was not there; his place was vacant,-there was no gift for him. Yet all these privations could not drive the young man from the path in which he trod without fanaticism, though with all the zeal of a fanatic, and in which he persevered without hope of reward, exposed to the taunts and reproaches of his acquaintance. Even Danielis did not escape censure from those who think that in providing for their children comfortably and well without consulting the will of God, they have fulfilled their highest duty. The Elder was not affected by their reprehensions, nor hurt by their offensive expressions and forebodings of ill. "Be it so," he would say to his wife: "the unjust reproaches of man bring the favor of God. What my son is now doing, was done by the noblest of men in olden times; and though their meed was death, from the barbarity of the age in which they lived, yet now they are revered as martyrs and saints. Let our Jacob pursue his path as a messenger of peace and an apostle of the Gospel, following in the rear of his predecessors, the benefactors of mankind." CHAP. IX.-THE FESTIVE MEETING. A year passed away, a year rich in blossoms and harvests-like every other that we welcome so warmly, and so coldly see depart. Nature's creating hand, as if wearied with daily toil, sought repose on its wintry bed; and the snow-flakes fell like dreams upon its resting place, while the hoarfrost melted by the pale sun-beams, was dissolved from the branches of the trees. But a few hours passed, and the regret of all was changed into gladness. A letter came from Jacob announcing his return home that evening. A friend had undertaken his duties, and with a mind free from care, he was coming home to fulfil his heart's dearest wish. "He could not," he said, " relinquish the pleasure of celebrating with the beloved household a day which had ever been to him the most solemn and the most esteemed in all the days of the year." "But for heaven's sake," exclaimed Mother Anna, as soon as she was alone with her husband, and free from the noisy mirth of the family; "how can we make this a happy day to dear Jacob! We have no festive gift for him. Advise me what to do. I can offer him sweetmeats; but what a trifle-what a poor acknowledgment of the joy his return gives us, his safe return this dreary winter weather! Or would you place some money among my sweets? he may want it, poor fellow. Christmas, the pleasantest of the domestic feasts in the Elder's family, drew near. Danielis shook his head, as he answered, All the household were busy preparing their "Money! that is dry nourishment for gifts in secret. Such hiding and seeking, heart and spirit, though useful for corposuch counselling and guessing, such jests real wants and necessities. Let us think and whispers, were never seen or heard, as of a nobler gift; he deserves it! He has the memorable day approached. On made a sacrifice to the highest of duties, Christmas-eve every one delivered his or and has resigned the most easy and pleaher gifts to the parents, to be deposited on sant life, one that all would desire, for the table under the mysterious folds of a a gloomy existence, surrounded by troubles white cloth. All then left the room, that and dangers. He may sink under it. No the presents so carefully concealed might one, except God and his own conscience, be duly arranged by the father and mother. can reward him as he merits; but let us The night seemed interminable to the now gratify the strongest of his earthly impatient members of the family. Before wishes. Come, I have a happy thought." He whispered something to his wife with a smile. Mother Anna at first looked at him doubtfully, as if quite alarmed; but the expression of her features soon changed, and her face beamed with a joy which lighted up her whole countenance. "It is a charming idea," exclaimed she; "but how shall we gain time? for evening will quickly be here, and great preparations will be needful. Where shall I find flowers? and an invitation must be sent to all our relatives. As to the feast, there will be plenty of good things, for I am always prepared on a day like this. Then, the goldsmith;-I must go into the town myself. No! I can send. But there is no time to be lost; evening is at hand. Go, my dear husband; and do your part." Mother Anna set to work so eagerly that she put all the house in motion; but no one could guess the reason of these extraordinary preparations. One messenger was sent to the town; another to the wood; a third to invite the guests; a fourth to the goldsmith and the jeweller. And when evening came, and the happy Jacob arrived, and had embraced his parents, brothers, and sisters, all was prepared to make the holy day a most happy one for him. Much time was spent, as may be well imagined, in questions, answers, caresses, and rejoicings over the newly arrived guest. At length the father made his way through the joyful family group, and raised his voice above the rest for silence. He took Jacob's hand, and said: "To business, my children, to business! before we sit down to supper. Our young missionary has not left his post to-day in vain. He expects his Christmas gift. Ah! poor Jacob, you were too late to share with the others. But it would grieve your mother's heart to leave you uncared for at this happy time. Come, mother, lead the way into your drawing room and we will follow. Now, young people, after us;" cried the father, smiling merrily at his flock. No sooner said than done. The family entered Mother Anna's saloon, which was gaily lighted up. At one end of the room, near a sofa, stood a table adorned with confectionery of all sorts. To this table the father and mother led their son. Both watched his looks, smiling, and enjoying his surprise. Jacob embraced them both, exclaiming: "How affectionate, how good you are to me!" "Affectionate, certainly," repeated the Elder; "but good?-no, Jacob. This table, so trifling a gift, contradicts your assertion. However, I can, should you wish it, add something to these nothings. It is a jewel which many will covet, and yet many will reproach you for taking it. Reflect before accepting it, for if you do so, you must keep it for ever. It is not mine, yet I can give it to you. It cost me nothing, yet it will cause you much expense, which expense may increase yearly. It delights all who look upon it, and I confess it charms me by something magical in its form and color. But in a few years the gold frame will tarnish, and then the worth or the worthlessness of the jewel will be discovered. Dear Jacob, look not so astounded, even though I speak in riddles. This jewel is itself an enigma to which time alone can give you a clue. Yet, I feel certain, that the more anxiety it costs to obtain, the greater happiness will it bestow on you. But why say more? Come, my son, see it with your own eyes, and then decide." While the Elder thus spoke, the whole family stood around him in a circle, listening with much curiosity. Danielis opened the door of an adjoining room, and exclaimed, "Follow me !" There, beneath the flower-garlands and ivy branches which adorned the chamber, more beautiful in her simple white robe than if glittering with jewels,-sat Else; her head bowed down, and her hands clasped in deep anxiety. The whole household looked on amazed; then followed a deep silence. Jacob stood as though petrified with wonder; but joy and ecstasy flashed from his eyes. He stretched forth his arms to his beloved; Else rose, trembling, and sank fainting with happiness upon his faithful breast. The father and mother looked on with joyful tears, and the rest soon found their tongues in affectionate congratulations to the young lovers, who threw themselves into their parents' arms. Scarcely a year from this joyful betrothal, the marriage of Jacob and Else was celebrated. The Elder and his wife live their own young days over again in witnessing this happy union; and every coming year adds to the bliss of the pastor and his beloved Else. If thou art sorrowful and sad, And thought no comfort yields; Go leave the busy, bustling world, And ramble in the fields, Blessed Nature will have sympathy Both with thy sufferings and thee." Have friends proved false; doth fortune frown; Ne'er, ne'er with unavailing grief, If thou have placed thy youthful trust Should false and faithless prove, If thou have seen thy cherished hopes Ne'er let thy manly courage sink Go list the lark's ethereal lay, "Twill soothe thy gloomy thoughts away. Kind Nature solace offers all; Go to the fields, and Nature woo, No matter what thy mood; The light heart will be lighter made, With joyous thoughts. The simplest flower Alone, communing with thyself, Go to the fields, and thou wilt find A VISION. BY W. J. LINTON. Only the Beautiful is real: All mysteries that life enwreathe, All that we dread or darkly feel,— Nothing but Love is true: Earth's many lies, whirl'd upon Time's swift wheel, Shift and repeat their state; Birth, life, and death, And all that they bequeathe Of hope or memory, thus do alternate Doth beauteously imbue, The wine-cups of the archetypal Fate. Love, Truth, and Beauty-all are one: The wilderings of its dimness, death be known Into one Heart, into one Melody, SPIRIT SOLACE. BY THOMAS WADE. Perpetual moanings from the troubled sea From Sharpe's Magazine. THE DUMB GIRL. BY ANNE A. FREMONT. Oh! for the harshest sound So prodigal of speech, and full of glee- And when some childish grief For they in list'ning ears the cause can speak; But must I hide mine deep In the recesses of my own sad heart, For I can only weep. And when they ask what I can ne'er impart, How weak, how impotent, seems look or sign! Ah! even words were vain for grief like mine. But there is one, the best, The sweetest, gentlest, most beloved of all; And oh ! how gladly seem her words to fall, Whose chords are broken, and the sweet voice mute: And with a skill, love-taught, Will read my feelings on my varying cheek, And give it utt'rance: if these lips could speak, REALIZATION OF A DREAM. "I thought he loved, and blushed to think "I thought he loved; the anxious eye, "I thought he loved: it was not once Our eager glances met; But times too many to recount, "Oh! blissful thought! oh! daylike dream! It seemed the dawning bright Of hope beyond anxiety, Of a day without a night! "And moments passed, and happy hour And I felt the magic of his voice, "But oh! when sorrow on me fell, And tears from hope were wrung, I felt the living tenderness That trembled on his tongue! "I felt he loved! few words were spoken In that eventful hour, For faith and truth live in the eyes, "And then no more a maiden's blush My own fond heart reproved, For I could only think of joy When I only felt he loved!" THE TRUEST FRIEND. BY CHARLES SWAIN. There is a friend, a secret friend, There is a friend, a faithful friend, In every chance and change of fate, Whose boundless love doth solace send, When other friendships come too late! A friend, that when the world deceives, And wearily we onward plod, How blest the years of life might flow, And love his Maker, and be just! From Fraser's Magazine. THE CHARM OF FRIENDSHIP. Sweet comes a calm to weary mariners, Some wild excitement-hope-or stern despair, How sweet to these the morning calm! but far Such to Orestes was his Pylades; MEMORY. I am an old man-very old My hair is thin and grey; My hand shakes like an autumn leaf, That wild winds toss all day. Beneath the pent-house of my brows, My dim and watery eyes Gleam like faint lights within a pile, Which half in ruin lies. O'er happy childhood's sports and plays, Youth's friendship, and youth's love, I ofttimes brood in memory, As o'er its nest the dove. In fancy through the fields I stray, And see a once beloved face I sit in the old parlor nook, And she sits near me there; We read from the same book-my cheek I have grown old-oh, very old! As when through moonlit alleys green She is unchanged-I see her now Oh Death, thou hast a charmed touch, Though cruel 'tis and cold; Embalmed by thee in memory, Love never can grow old. INFANCY. BY MARY LEMAN GILLIES. How beautiful is infancy! How day, like a young mother, looks And from its couch, at her approach, Oh! this makes morning's toilette-hour Her rising wakens all young things- Lest darkness be not fled; Till morn assures them, and they wave Or bower, or beam, or breeze: The clapping of thy rosy hands, PRINCIPLE AND OPINION. Principle and Opinion !-of the last I deem but lightly: 'tis a thing of change; Of thought and time and chance. A man can yield Opinion, hide it, quit it, or defer. Not so with Principle: he anchors there; |