CHRISTMAS.

HE nativity, or birth of our

THE CHRISTMAS ANGEL.

brated on Christmas Day.

What a joyful birth-day for us to keep! Jesus was the Son of God; was, indeed, God Himself. He dwelt from all eternity in Heaven, in great glory, angels and archangels doing Him honour. Yet He was so merciful to man-man who had sinned against Himthat, to save all the world from sin and everlasting punishment, He came down from His throne in Heaven and took upon Him our nature. He came as a little infant, with the Virgin Mary for His mother, and went through all the troubles and cares of a life on earth. It was a life of toil, and poverty, and humiliation. And this He did, that at last He might die to save us.*

Christ's incarnation-that is, His becoming man-is a great mystery, a thing which cannot be understood; and yet it is a thing at which the youngest child learns to rejoice.

There is one thing especially to be thought of on Christmas Day. The reason for which Christ took upon Him our fallen nature was, that He might raise and purify it; and as it has been raised and purified in Him, so by His grace it can be in each of us.

Instead of constantly giving way to our faults, and caring most of all for our pleasures, we can learn to love the things of God, and follow the example which Jesus set us in His childhood, and youth, and manhood. He has shown us how to live from infancy to the end of our days. Let every one strive to be like Him, whatever be the cost. E. L.

narrow little room. Without, the snow is falling, and the white flakes whirl and dance merrily. The snow-flakes have their work to do, for ere night everything must be clad in white-house, street, and churchyard-for it-is Christmas! And that, too, is why the children are whispering wonderful things to one another. Near the little room there is another smaller one. But to-day this is locked fast, and yesterday in the passage the children found-what do you think?-why, bits of goldpaper and a broken fir-branch! The house seems to smell of Christmas, of Christmastrees, and Christmas - cakes. The two youngest crouch down by a chair at the window, and scraping little peep-holes on the frozen window-panes, can see the people hurrying up and down with their Christmas | parcels, and the lights twinkling, and the pastry cooks' boys running along with their baskets covered with white cloths. Mother has just finished Saturday's washing, and has polished up the furniture; she is a poor woman, but denies herself willingly for others; and now amongst her little ones she does not appear at all poor, but very-yes, very rich.

Come, children,' she says, in a mysterious voice, while I clear up everything, you go across to the market-place and look at the pretty Christmas things.'

The little ones jumped quickly up, and hurried to put on their warm things.

'Take care of your brothers and sisters,' the mother said to her eldest boy; and taking her broom, she sets to work, for by the evening everything must be put ready for Old Father Christmas, and he will soon be here.

Downstairs hurry and tumble the little

How rudely

troop out into the open air. the cold wind treats their poor little noses! But they are so happy, they don't think of the cold. And all this time the snowflakes have been very diligent in their work, and everything, as far as the eye can see, is already quite white.

The children soon arrive at the pretty, glittering stalls. What a pressing and crowding there is, to be sure! What pretty things! And what wishes arise in the little hearts! But the children have learnt for a long time to be content with little, and are delighted to only look at the wonderful things which are for other children. But now it is time to go home.

As they turn a corner of the street, Karl stumbles over something. At first he thinks it is a curb-stone.

But it moves;

and a little voice says wearily, Mother, I'm so cold! The children press round. There in the snow they see a little child, half frozen with the bitter cold.

Where is your mother?' asks Karl.

'I don't know,' said the little thing, and its teeth chattered as it spoke. Karl looks round, and sees no mother. So he picks up the child that clings round his neck, and nearly weighs him down; but he plods on bravely, and his little brothers and sisters follow. At length home is reached, and the children tumble up the staircase again. They stop outside the parlour. Mother opens the door and says, Wipe your shoes, and wait outside till I call you! Father Christmas has come !'

The bright light from the parlour lit up the dark street where they were standing, and then, as the door closed, all was dark again. It seemed quite ghostly to the children. They heard talking within. Father had come home. What-what is there? Their little hearts are full of the pretty things they saw at the market.

'Come in!' cries father.

The door flies open. The room, with its polished boards and snow-white curtains, glitters in the light. Seven heaps lie on the white table-cloth under the Christmas-tree. But seven heaps, and

eight children!

"Why, there are eight of them!' cries the father, half amused, half frightened. And there the eight stood round the tree, and gazed at the burning lights in glee.

6

Oh, father cried Karl, we found the little thing half frozen in the snow!'

Quite right of you to bring it here,' answered father; it would have frozen to death. But, wife,' he added, as we have one more of them to-night, cannot you get it a few presents?'

So after hunting about the good wife collects a little heap of presents. Then she took off the child's wet frock and cap, and its golden curls fell down over its forehead, so that it looked like a Christmas angel.

• What will its mother think?' cries the good wife, weeping and kissing the little stranger. And then mirth and noise rang louder even than in the afternoon, and the old clock ticked on unheard. And later on the father went to the police-station to report that he had found a strange child in the snow.

Early next morning, when the children. and the little foundling were fast asleep, its mother came for her child. She sobbed for joy when she saw it once more, fresh and well, and kissed Karl who had saved it. What tears were shed when the happy mother carried off her child! But the children often met to play together, and every Christmas, when they had their Christmas-tree, the biggest heap of presents always fell to the little Christmas Angel.'