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ment among the stars ? John the Watchman, resting for a moment from his tramp, leaning against the warehouse door, heard no sound, and the street and hospital were there still ; and yet, in the street, above it, in heaven or on earth, who could tell? he saw the form of One like the Son of Man. He did not fear to look upon Him, for every line in that face and form drew his eyes. He saw Him pass, and touch a poor man bending over a heap of garbage, who looked up into His face, and straightway caught, in faint resemblance, the same look, and John for one moment glanced at the ragpicker with the changed face. But back he turned to the One, who passed now over the threshold of a church. He saw Him enter. He saw the bowed heads of the multitude; and when they looked up, though He was gone, their faces gave back a little of the kindling glory. Once more he saw Him lift the latch of a humble house, and enter there. O joy! it was John's own house. There sat Mary, bending over the sleeping babes. He saw Him look upon the mother, and then upon the children. Did He smile from the little faces came a smile. There was no solitude when He was gone; He took away no blessing with Him. Down through dark streets John saw
Him pass, lighting the way as He moved. Men, and women, and children gathered around Him. Alas! for those who shut their eyes, and turned again to slumber. Did they know that he was there? Yet he left a light in the place, - He left faces of holiness. Ever and ever John saw Him pass and repass; brighter and brighter shone the light about Him. The city's hum sounded, yet He did not go; there was a vast moving, hither and thither, of busy men and women; the streets of the city were full of boys and girls, playing in the streets thereof; and yet, go where they would, their eyes were still turned upon Him. He went where each went; they were walking beside Him.
Was this heaven ? was this earth? John the Watchman looked through it all, and, as his eyes peered more steadily, solid shapes held them. A light moved in a casement, forms flitted back and forth. He was aware of familiar objects. The hospital was before him. He stood firmly upon the sidewalk, and looked anxiously at the lighted window. There he had seen the ministering woman, and felt the sick man to be. Now he could see plainly that there were several in the room. He saw them Kneel by the bedside.
“It is his last moment," said John to himself. They knelt, and then all rose but one, the woman, — and she kept her place.
“ Lord Jesus, receive his spirit,” murmured John.
Hark! on the kneeling woman, and on John the Watchman murmuring his prayer, struck the sound of chiming bells.
Still here! still here! they joyfully rang. Lo, He cometh! In clouds, in clouds !
Louder and louder pealed the bells, while full in John the Watchman's heart sounded the glad tidings — He is the life of the world. Men shall look upon Him and live. The Jesus Christ of Galilee and Jewry, — He that was lifted up He would draw all men unto Him.
Christmas morning had risen.
THE STORY THAT NEVER WAS TOLD.
In the middle of the garden was a lake, and in the middle of the lake was an island, and in the middle of the island was a bower, and there sat a Little Girl. No hands had made the bower, but some rhododendrons grew in a circle and dropped their flaming flowers upon a mound of earth, which was the Little Girl's seat. There was room within the bower for a great many visitors, and through the opening in front one could see, or at least the Little Girl could see, over the water, and out toward the mountains that stood in the wide world.
She could see down the slope, too, that led from the bower to the lake, and thus she saw the procession that wound up the path to where she sat. She watched it come and her heart beat lightly, for she knew that now she was to hear stories; yes, each one in the procession was to tell a story — a story about the wide world where they lived. And off on the lake she could see a tiny boat - only a speck in the
distance - that had spread its white sails and was coming toward her. Were there more story-tellers in the boat? that she could not tell; but nearer came the troop winding along the path.
Tra-la-la! tra-la-la-la! the Columbine horns were sounding; Thrum-thrum! droned the Burdock-leaves; Pweep-weep! whistled the cold Indian-pipe, and the Pea-pods burst in with their snapping Pop! pop!
They were coming, they were close by! and the Little Girl clapped her hands as the music stopped, and a kid and a kitten skipped up to the bower, and tumbled a little courtesy to her.
“ Your name is Kid, and yours is Kitten,” said the Little Girl. “Tell me, Kitten, what they do in the wide world where you live.”
“0,” said Kitten, “we play. Shall I tell you a story? Yesterday we played we were playing. T'other Kitty - that's not me, but the Kitty that didn't come to-day — Tother Kitty and I had a ball, and we played that we were playing with this ball. It was all in fun, you know: we only played we were playing. I tossed it to T’other Kitty, and she tossed it to
then I tossed it to her, and she tossed it to me; and then I tossed it to her, and she