THE  RURAL  HE 
KER. 
Leaves  and  flowers  soon  chose  a  messenger  to 
cany  their  sighs  up  and  down— the  Ivx.  It  sprang 
up  among  the  flower*  and  wound  Itself,  a  green 
leaf,  up  to  the  leaves  of  Uie  trees,  leaf  pressed  to 
leaf,  the  ladder  of  sweet  rowg,  a  silent  lov<M;baln. 
Who  does  not,  recognize  this  beauUful  vocation  at 
once  I  Who  la  not  grcc1/jd  by  the  evergreen  ten¬ 
drils  as  with  silent  sighs  of  entiiuslasUc  young 
love  I  And  flowers  and  leaves  were  aatlsfled  with 
tills  messenger. 
“The  reign  of  Autumn  drew  to  a  close,  and  ho 
began  to  pluoJc  the  remaining  flowers  on  the  plain. 
The  leaves  faded  with  longing,  and  paaslonately 
entreated  Autumn  to  lot  them  descend,  only  once, 
to  their  didng  beloved  ones.  And  Autumn  al¬ 
lowed  theta  to  do  80,  although  he  had  no  right  In 
the  matter  and  usurped  Winter’s  power  over  the 
leaves.  Autumn  shook  the  trees  and  down  flut¬ 
tered  the  loose  leaves  to  the  earth.  Now  began 
a  wild  life  of  love  Indeed.  Autumn,  who  took 
pleasure  therein,  played  a  wild  air ;  the  leave* 
flew  In  whirling  dances  round  the  flowers,  until 
they  drooped  their  heads,  weaiy  and  fatigued, 
and  the  leaves  lay  down  at  the  last  tune  that 
Autumn  played,  to  their  everlasting  sleep.  Then 
came  Winter..  Plain  and  forest  rocelrcd  him  bare 
and  dreary.  Nothing  was  green  for  him  but  we 
poor  Flr-treoa ;  for  no  flower  had  chosen  to  have 
any  love  communication  with  our  needles,  and 
the  Ivy  wound  from  tree  to  tree,  os  though  it 
would  erect  a  triumphal  arch  for  Winter,  and 
from  bough  to  bough,  os  though  It  would  hide  the 
Infidelity  of  the  leaves  and  give  tlie  tree  a  suhsti- 
tiite  for  their  lost,  withered  foliage.  Wlnttir  eaw 
this  and  was  touched :  and  whilst  he  ].ished  down 
the  few  leaves  that  remained  against  their  will, 
solitary  and  forlorn,  here  and  there  on  the  trees, 
and  chased  them  angrily  over  Ice  and  snow,  he 
spoke  soleiniily  Ui  the  Ivy-leave*: 
“  ‘  1  will  protect  you.  I  will  preserve  you  to  the 
friendly  business  you  have  chosen ;  be,  and  con¬ 
tinue,  love's  tneasengers;  carry  silent  greetings 
from  flower  to  leaf,  from  Autumn  to  Spring- 
build  nn  eternal  bridge  from  ssti-son  to  sea-son  1 
Your  vocation  Is  to  twine  and  unite;  your  ever¬ 
green  remembrance  of  plains  and  forests  shall 
mitigate  even  Winter’s  severity.' 
“Sospjikc  MMnter  to  the  Ivy,  but  he  gave  us 
Fir-trees  his  heartiest  attachment  and  prepared 
honors  for  us  which  .vou  other  troos  do  not  share.” 
“And  what  are  these?”  asked  tlie  other  trees. 
In  an  Injured  tone. 
“  Winter  Is  the  soo.son  of  feeling,"  continued  the 
Flr-troe;  "iheryfore  he  at  once  recognized  and 
lionored  this  In  the  Ivy.  Mon  know  this,  for  at 
no  season  do  they  unite  eo  much  as  In  wlnUT. 
Thus  ho  brtnga  with  him  the  Joyful,  holy,  myste¬ 
rious  festival  of  Christmas;  thus  you  see  In  his 
.suite  thiit  friendly  spirit  of  the  Christmas  gonius. 
Men  call  It  the  love  of  friends  and  p<.rente;buc 
that  Is  not  true.  When  It  ecterelaea  Its  magic 
power.  It  la  all  over  with  human  beings.  Day  and 
night,  during  the  first  half  of  wlnt;er,  the  mother 
meditates,  because  tho  Christmas  spirit  Is  con¬ 
stantly  whispering  in  her  enr.  And  the  mioi  who 
goes  out  to  make  purchases  at  Chrlstraaa^-tlme, 
always  brings  homo  more  than  he  Intended,  lio 
is  not  attracted  by  tho  pretty  things;  no,  It  Is  the 
Christmas  spirit  beckoning  and  whispering  and 
touching  t  he  heart,  so  that  the  hand  opens  and  ! 
constantlj',  until  It  has  prep-ired  tlie  richest  ' 
Christmas  Joy.  ' 
“  We  Fir-trees  know  this,  for  we  stand  In  the 
midst  of  It  all ;  we  are  the  ChrlKlmas-trees,  and  ' 
the  good  Christmas  spirit  puts  u*  in  the  midst  of  ‘ 
the  most  boBUtlfiil  Chrtstmaa  Joy.  We  are  miss-  ^ 
mg  neither  in  the  palace  nor  tho  cottage.  Be  the  ^ 
parents  ever  so  poor,  still  they  place  a  few  can-  ' 
dies  on  our  branches  for  the  rejoicing  clilldren.  ' 
Cold  Md  silver  haag  from  ujs,  wo  bear  glittering  ’ 
fruits,  and  children  clap  their  hands  at  sight  of  * 
us;  for, however  beautiful  everything  else  may  < 
be,  the  Christmas-tree  is  the  moat  beautiful  of 
all— the  Christmas  spirit  envelopes  It  In  Its  most  * 
wonderful  and  peculiar  magic.  Porbaps  ohUdren  * 
love  the  ChrLstraiva-tree  so  much  because  it  Is  so  * 
like  a  rich  childlike  spirit.  Various  sparkling 
pictures  twine  round  Hope's  green  boughs ;  rich 
and  golden  It  stands,  mysterious  and  inexplicable.  J 
But  one  glowing  picture  aftnr  another  vanishes;  1 
the  gold  was  tinsel— hopes  fade— the  secret  Is  i 
solved— the  whole  mystery  vanishes  with  the  last  i 
ornament  one  takes  off,  and  nothing  remains  but  i 
a  dried  Fir-tree.  In  the  child's  spirit  one  gol  ten  ( 
dream  fades  after  another;  one  secret  after  an-  c 
other,  In  which  It  was  enveloped,  unfolds;  and  e 
how  dlfferi  ut  is  11  te  to  what  the  child's  spirit  lan-  I 
cled  It!”  f 
“When  the  tlnsells  off,  your  glory  Is  past?" 
asked  the  Ash.  t 
“  Then  the  tree  Is  tbrowm  Into  the  fire,”  said 
the  Fir,  “andtliere  he  often  hears  many  a  beau-  c 
tlful  fairy  tale,  which  human  beings  relate  when  c 
they  sit  gazing  Into  the  glowing  Are.  Ho  listens  c 
attentively;  but  If  ani'tlilng  is  said  of  which  ho  a 
disapprove.^,  he  cracks  so  that  tho  sparks  fly  and  v 
people  round  the  hearth  Jump.  And  when  the  a 
golden  apples  are  eaten,  the  children  look  sadly  « 
out  of  their  corner  at  the  burning  Christmas-tree.”  l 
This  is  the  story  of  Winter  and  the  Fir-tree.  t 
HER  DIARY. 
Nov.  30.— It  was  painful  to  the  last  degree.  1 
do  net  distinctly  remerober  the  various  operations 
that  Anally  led  to  my  being  laid  out  upon  the 
table,  but  when  I  gained  my  consciousness  I  felt 
some  one  was  grasping  me  around  the  waist  with 
no  gentle  pressure.  My  breath  shot  forth  in  a 
ridiculously  spasmodic  fashion  that  made  me 
squeak  Laughably— had  It  not  been  for  the  acute 
pain  I  suffered. 
Who  these  ruthless  people  were  and  why  they 
should  thus  abuse  me,  I  did  not  clearly  under¬ 
stand.  They  appeared  to  be  disputing  about  my 
0  possession,  and  the  woman— who  acted  as  If  she 
r  controlled  my  de.stlny— was  very  persistent  about 
1  terras.  A.n  for  myself,  I  rather  fancied  my  would- 
3  he  owner,  so  to  speak,  as  It  was  clear  I  was  looked 
.  upon  as  a  mem  chattel,  and  Insen-sibly  l  found 
t  mysolf  faking  a  great  Interest  In  the  negotiations. 
I  have  read  somewhere  how  they  buy  slaves  in 
r  the  Kast— examining  their  teeth,  discussing  their 
i  physical  perfections,  etc.— and  I  had  time  to  re¬ 
flect  that  my  condition  was  In  nowise  hotter  than 
)  the  lot  of  tiiose  i>oor  creatures. 
Arrangements  were  finally  made  satlsfoct-orlly 
io  t  he  Intereste  of  both  parties,  and  I  was  lifted 
carefully  Into  my  new  protector's  arms  and  car¬ 
ried  to  ray  new  homo. 
/A'0. 2.— Fancy  the  feelings  of  a  poor  orphan,  a 
waif,  stray,  what  you  will,  dear  reader,  on  being 
ushered  Into  a  family  that  was  positively  teeming 
with  “olive  branches.” 
What  my  new  owner  r.onld  want  with  a  larger 
fomlly  than  she  already  had,  was  a  rnarveJ  to  me. 
I  say  “owner,”  because  It  neem-S  to  ftlly'  express 
the  sardonic  cast  of  my  thoughts.  H  Is  a  dread¬ 
fully  bitter  thing  to  be  cast  upon  society  at  my 
age,  forced  to  light  the  b.attie  Of  life  alone,  haras- 
sed  by  an  ever-present  doubt  as  to  tho  existence 
of  one’s  p.arenis  even.  But  enough  of  this  moral¬ 
izing. 
The  Bknrons  were  as  kind  as  could  be  expected 
and  the  children  made  much  of  me ;  too  much,  in 
fact,  as  1  was  a  bone  of  •ontentlon.  M  aby  wanted 
me  excbaslvely,  while  Anna  insisted  t.hat  I  bo- 
longtxl  to  her.  Mii.upbnt,  more  mild  and  judi¬ 
cial,  thought  a  (wmpromise  by  wlilch  each  could 
poHsewi  tne  a  part  of  the  day  would  fkive  trouble. 
It  was  very'  amusing — to  them. 
jj(v.  5. — What  queer  clilldrcn,  to  be  sure  1  I  am 
coddled  fx)  the  point  of  satiety.  It  would  bo  pre- 
IKHsterous  to  tell  the  number  of  times  I  atn  dressed 
and  undressed  «ich  day,  simply  to  please  these 
young  tyrants.  1  couldn’t  have  loss  will  of  my 
own  II  I  was  a  creature  of  the  «rand  Llama’s. 
My  only  relief  l.s  at  nJglit,  when  1  retire  to  a  really 
cosy  room  and  rest  my  weary  head  on  a  pillow 
that  would  do  credit  to  a  bridal  chamber,  so  gor¬ 
geous  is  It  with  laces  and  flne  linen. 
fi.— This  has  l>e.cn  .an  eventful  day.  Early 
In  tho  forenoon  almost  tho  entire  family  went  to 
the  Matiiuv,  I  should  hit^e  been  pleased  to  make 
one  of  tho  party,  but  my  pleasure  Is  not  always 
consulted— except  by  myself,  and  It  was  this 
open-handed  generosity  to  the  wrltor  that  proved 
to  be  ray  misfortune. 
No  sooner  did  I  And  myself  alone  than  I  deter¬ 
mined  to  go  about  on  a  voyage  of  Inspection.  1 
should  add,  perhaps.  In  this  connection,  that  dls- 
cfwe  bod  poralyTsed  my  legs  to  such  an  extent  that 
walking  was  out  of  tho  question.  This  unforl.u- 
nato  circumstance  was  no  bar  to  my  Inquisitive¬ 
ness  as,  by  the  assistance  of  n  maid,  1  visited  parts 
of  the  lioiise  quite  new  to  me.  1  especially  amused 
myself  in  the  pantry,  and  I  was  so  deeply  en¬ 
grossed  In  attompting  to  extract  plcklos  from  a 
large  jar,  that  1  was  oblivious  to  all  that  passed 
around  mt3.  1  must  have  disturbed  some  heavy 
weight  os,  before  1  could  fall  to  one  side,  I  was 
momentarily  crushed  against  the  Ud  of  the  Jar, 
which  made  me  utter  a  horrid  tMjucak,  similar  In 
sound  to  those  store  “  cry  b.able8,”  and  which,  to 
my  shame,  l  alwaj’s  give  voice  to  wlieu  frlght- 
enccL 
In  a  twinkling  the  weight— a  largo  plnttor- ca¬ 
reened.  I  lost  ray  balance  and  In  we  botli  w’ent,  ' 
scattering  pickles  and  vinegar  In  all  directions.  ' 
I  gasped,  splashed  and  wriggled,  hut  to  no  pur-  ' 
pose.  My  head  was  submerged.  I  had  about  con-  ' 
eluded  thatU  was  ray  fate  to  be  pickled,  when  1 
was  caught  by  the  leg  and  drawn,  dripping,  from  > 
the  Jar.  Nothing  could  be  more  ridiculous  than  * 
such  an  adventure,  or  more  overwhelming  than  ' 
the  shame  1  felt  at  being  caught  In  my  own  trap.  ^ 
The  clUldron,  who  had  returned,  were  hilarious  ^ 
at  my  expense.  A  foster-sister  Is  never  the  re-  ' 
plpleni  of  more  sympathy  and  love  than  she  can  ' 
be  grateful  for !  ^ 
I  was  undressed  and  put  to  bed  In  disgrace.  < 
Dec. 2S,— Ecclesiastes  says:- “And  I  gave  my  ^ 
heart  to  seek  and  search  out  by  wisdom  concern-  ' 
lug  all  things  that  are  done  under  Heaven.”  But  * 
my  seeking  was  of  a  character  that  would  not  be  ' 
sanctioned  by  the  Frpachcr.  I  wanted  to  know  * 
who  the  young  man  was  that  paid  such  devoted  ^ 
attention  to  Mrucjint's  elder  sister,  and  why  the  J 
couple  sought  bny-wlndotvs  and  other  secluded  ‘ 
spots,  when  a  p  vrently  they  had  nothing  more  ! 
InUiresUng  to  discuss  than  ]Hcturos  in  a  photo-  : 
graph  album.  * 
I  found  out;  but  it  was  at  the  expense  of  an  ‘ 
eye,  alas!  ^ 
We  Jiad  been  playing  at  house-keeping  In  one 
of  those  windows,  and  when  called  to  dinner  tho 
children  scampered  away,  leaving  me  sitting  in  c 
one  of  the  chairs.  Of  course  1  could  not  walk  i 
away,  so  patiently  waited  to  he  taken  to  bed  r 
when  I  would  have  been  missed.  Time  advanced 
apace,  and  when  1  awoke  from  a  quiet  nap,  l  was 
aware  of  another  presence  In  my  neighborhood,  c 
It  Wi«s  too  dark  to  dlstinguljdi  anything  more  v 
than  the  outlines  of  figures  that  certainly  were 
very  near  each  other.  Presently  1  heard : 
“Oh,  Okorue!  please,  dont!  Why,  you  impu¬ 
dent  fellow ! "  said  in  a  tone  or  quasi-annoyance.  j 
It  was  MiLUCENT's  sister  and  her  young  man. 
He  said  nothing ;  but  presentiy  I  heard  a  pecu¬ 
liar,  sharp  report,  something  like  the  sound  of  a 
cork  drawn  suddonly  from  a  bottle,  and  more  ex-  ^ 
clamatlons  on  the  port  of  the  lady. 
Then  ensued  a  very  funny  scene.  As  plainly  as 
I  could  see  one  shadow  lungad  in  the  direction  of 
the  other ;  an  incipient  scuffle  ensued,  and  In  the  ^ 
midst  of  the  fracas  the  young  lady  was  plumped 
down  on  the  chair  In  which  1  was  placed.  I  saw 
her  coming,  and  felt  much  the  same  helplessness  I 
that  a  Swiss  might  feel  when  placed  In  the  direct 
course  of  an  avalanche.  In  a  twinkling  the  breath 
was  squeezed  out  of  my  bodj',  and  along  with  It 
Issued  the  sound  of  one  of  my  musical  “squeaks.” 
The  girl  jumped  to  her  feet,  both  laughed  Immod¬ 
erately,  and  after  a  poor  sort  or  apology  they  car¬ 
ried  me  to  the  light. 
“  Poor  Milmcknt,  how  angry  she  will  be.”  ex¬ 
claimed  this  precious  young  woman,  not  seeming 
lo  care  that.  I  had  Buffered  an  Internal  Injury  that 
had  the  effect  of  paralyzing  my  eyelid  so  that  I 
cannot  close  It. 
./an.  30.— I  am  hardly  strong  enough  yet  to 
write,  but  1  feel  as  If  1  miwt  relieve  my  pent-up 
indlgmalion  and  sense  of  injury,  or  I  ahnll  relapse 
into  delirium.  It  seems  more  than  a  month  since 
the  cruel  ticcldeni  that  nearly  caused  my  destruc¬ 
tion. 
Christmas  Is  a  wjaaon  brimming  with  mirth  In 
the  h()ino  of  the  Bbnscins,  and  for  many  days  pre- 
vlouH  to  the  fostlval  anticipation  and  preparation 
are  rife.  Each  member  of  the  family  seems  to 
make  It  a  |)olnt  to  prepare  some  pleasant  surprise 
for  all  the  others,  and  while  these  schemes  are 
u-sually  clouded  In  Lho  mo.sL  Impenetrable  soertH-y, 
there  arc  occaalonx,  however,  where  two  or  three 
gather  together  and  decide  on  s  combined  sur¬ 
prise  to  the  unsuspecting  minority.  Of  otie  such 
Bchcmo  1  was  .and  am  the  victluj. 
The  children  thought  It  would  be  a  lino  thing 
to  do,  If  they  could  manage  a  Christmas  carol 
among  themselves,  without  the  aid  of  maturar 
talent,  and  to  this  end  Master  Ckorur  luarshalcd 
his  three  sisters,  and  In  secret  conclave  the  pro¬ 
gramme  was  fixed  up  Batlafactorlly.  The  rr*hear- 
sols  were  great  fun,  to  me  at  least.  The  melody 
was, - well,  the  lea*  1  say  about  that  the  better 
the  singers  will  be  pleased. 
Christmas  Eve  was  set  apart  for  a  private  re- 
hen.r«al,  and  although  tho  affair  was  lo  be  very 
quiet,  It  leaked  out  gradually,  and  a  few  friends— 
neighbors— came  in.  Mynelf  and  the  neighbors 
formed  the  audience.  I  had  the  Beat  of  honor, 
being  perched  on  a  bench,  with  one  ohinpunlon 
by  my  side,  in  what  might  lie  termed  the  dross 
circle. 
The  jtcrformanco  opened  without  delay  or  con¬ 
fusion.  Master  Georok  stepped  upon  a  bench 
and,  holding  his  imKjn  aloft,  essayed  the  duties 
of  conductor,  it,  wa,s  very  Interesting,  one  pas¬ 
sage  In  the  score  demanded  extraordinary  vigor 
of  voice,  and  t.hc  conductor,  rising  to  the  occasion, 
stretched  upward  and  backward,  poising  himself 
on  his  tees  and.  swinging  his  baton  abf^ve  his 
head,  shouted,  all  together,  one,  two, 
three — .” 
1  hetird  no  more,  as,  losing  nis  balance,  he  fell 
backward,  carrying  destj-uctlon  In  hla  wake.  1 
only  had  time  to  grasp  my  <-ompanlon's  hand, 
when  down  he  came  upon  uawlth  the  for;eand 
pre<ision  Of  a  pile-driver.  Giving  cue  terrlflc 
squeal,  1  fell,  flattened  beyond  all  hope  of  recog¬ 
nition.  ily  side  was  rent  In  twain,  and  scattered 
about  the  floor  were  great  pools  of  my  life-saw¬ 
dust. 
InstetMl  Of  rushing  te  ray  rescue,  the  heartless 
children  were  convulsed  with  demoniac  laughter, 
and  gave  tongue  to  the  most  cruel  jests. 
But  what  did  they  ca  re— f  was  orUu  n  aoli  J 
c.  H.  E.  R. 
MEDICAL  SCIENCE  IN  BEEBIA. 
The  London  standard  gives  a  unique  picture  of 
Serbian  medical  resource-s Serbia  has  hitherto 
done  without  doctors.  In  a  few  or  tho  large 
towns,  no  doubt,  there  were  medical  men,  mostly 
brought  up  In  Vienna,  but  In  the  vHlages  there 
was  absolutely  none.  1  heir  place  was— I  should 
perhaps  say  Is— supplied  by  “wise  women” 
called  “babas.”  These  “  babas”  profess  to  have 
an  Intuitive  knowledge  of  medicinal  plants;  but 
that  intelligent  being,  the  Serbian  peasant, 
placed  much  less  trust  lo  their  medical  than  in 
their  magical  skill.  Their  performance  In  this 
line  was  remarkable,  and  their  rustic  patients 
had  every  faith  In  it.  The  most  commonly  fatal 
diseases  m  Serbia  are  coneumpGon  and  congestion 
of  the  lungs.  The  staple  remedy  lor  the  latter 
ailment  Is  to  administer  to  the  patient  throe 
apples  grown  on  the  samo  bough.  If  after  eating 
these  apples,  which  are  supposed  to  have  some 
mysforlous  connection  with  the  Trlnltj%  the 
patient  feels  no  better,  then,  but  not  till  then, 
the  wise  woman  adopts  more  vigorous  measures. 
The  unfortunate  rrutlade  Is  laid  on  the  ground  on 
Ills  stomach,  tho  wise  woman  scatters  salt  over 
him,  and  mai'ches  around  him  mumbling  caballs- 
tic  words.  This  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  exorcism, 
and  would  Indicate  a  belief  that  the  lllneas  is 
claused  by  witchcraft  or  demoniacal  possession. 
No  man,  for  any  considerable  period,  can  wear 
one  face  to  himself  and  another  te  the  multitude 
without  Anally  getting  bewildered  as  to  which 
maj'  be  true. 
— —  -  ♦  ♦  » 
ivere  all  men  to  bring  together  Ihelr  burdens 
of  sorrow  to  be  equally  divided,  each  on  reflection 
would  choose  his  own.— Aoemfes. 
BOOKS  KECEIVED. 
From  T.  B.  Peterson  &  Brothers,  Phlla.,  Pa. : 
The  Jealous  Wife— A  Love  Story,  by  Miss  Par- 
doe.  (Paper— pp.  13-1.  Price  75  cts.) 
Lockwood,  Brooks  &■  Co.,  Boston : 
The  Farm  Yard  Club  of  Jonathan,  by  Geo.  B. 
Lortng.  (8  VO.— toned  paper.  Cloth.  Illus¬ 
trated— pp.  600.  Price,  $3.w).) 
Magazines  for  JANttAKy : 
Harper’s,  Scribner’s,  St.  Nicholas,  Atlantic, 
Demorest’s,  Galaxy. 
New  Mosic  FROM  Henry  s.  Mackie,  Rochester, 
N,  Y.— Silver  and  Jet  are  thy  Tresses,  song  by 
•  M.  J.  Munger. 
A  CHRISTMAS  HYMN. 
’Twas  in  tho  calm  and  RUont  niatit. 
Thr  Senator  of  batiaUty  Rome 
Impationt  nrfrAd  hi«  chanot’e  fliaht. 
From  lordly  revel  rolllnfr  home. 
Triumphal  arohee,  EleainlnK,  ewell 
His  breast  with  thnufrhta  of  boundless  sway 
What  recked  the.  Roman  what  befell 
A  paltry  province  far  awuy 
In  the  solemn  midniaht 
Centuries  afro  ? 
Within  that  province  far  away 
Went  plodding  home  a  wesry  boor ; 
A  streak  of  light  before  him  lay. 
Fallen  through  a  half  shut  stAble  door 
Across  his  path,  He  passed- for  naught 
Told  what  was  going  nn  within , 
How  keen  the  stars,  his  only  thought. 
The  air  how  calm  and  cold  and  thin 
In  the  solemn  midnight 
C-enturles  ago. 
It  is  the  calm  and  solemn  night. 
A  thousand  bells  ringmit  and  throw 
Their  Joyous  peals  ubrond,  and  smite 
The  darkness,  charmed  and  holy  now. 
Tho  night  that  erst  no  name  had  worn, 
To  it  a  happj'  name.  Is  given. 
For  in  that  stable  lay  new  born 
The  peaceful  Prince  of  earth  and  heaven, 
In  the  solemn  midnight 
Centurice  ago. 
TOLD  AND  FORETOLD. 
Now  the  birth  of  Jesus  Christ  wa.s  on  this  wise : 
When  bis  mother  Mary  was  cspou.sed  to  Joseph, 
before  they  came  together,  she  was  found  of  child 
of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Then  Joseph  her  husband,  being  a  Just  man, 
and  not  willing  to  make  her  a  public  example, 
wa.s  minded  te  put  her  away  privily. 
But  while  ho  thought  on  these  tilings,  behold, 
the  angel  of  the  Jxird  appeared  unto  him  In  a 
dream,  saying,  Joseph,  ibou  son  of  David,  fear 
not  te  take  unto  thco  Mary  thy  wife :  for  that 
which  is  eonoelvrd  In  her  is  of  the  Holy  Ghosu 
And  she  shall  bring  forth  a  son,  and  thou  shalt 
call  his  name  JESUS :  for  he  shall  save  his  people 
from  their  sins. 
Now  all  this  was  done,  t  hat  it  might  be  fulfilled 
which  was  spoken  of  tho  Lord  by  tito  prophet, 
saying, 
Behold,  a  virgin  shall  bo  wltli  child,  and  shall 
bring  forth  a  sou,  and  they  shall  call  his  name 
Emmanuel,  which  being  Interpreted  is,  uod  with 
us. 
Then  Joseph  being  raised  from  sleep  did  as  the 
angel  of  t  he  ixird  had  bidden  him,  and  took  tinto 
him  his  wife; 
And  knew  her  not  till  she  had  brought  forth  her 
flrsteborn  son ;  and  he  called  his  name  JESUS, 
Now  when  Jesus  was  born  In  Bethlehem  of 
Judea  In  t!ie  days  of  Herod  the  king,  behold, 
there  (»me  wise  men  from  the  east  to  Jerusalem, 
Sajdng,  Whore  is  he  that  is  born  King  of  the 
Jews?  for  we  havn  seen  his  star  In  the  east,  and 
arc  come  te  worship  him. 
When  Herod  the  king  had  heard  these  things, 
he  was  troubled,  and  all  .Jerusalem  with  him. 
And  when  he  had  gathered  all  tho  chief  priests 
and  scribes  of  the  people  together,  he  demanded 
of  them  where  Christ  should  be  born. 
And  they  said  unto  him,  in  Bethlehem  of  Judea : 
for  thus  It  is  written  by  the  prophet. 
And  thou  Bethlehem,  In  the  land  of  Judea,  art 
not  the  least  among  the  princes  of  Judea ;  for  out 
of  thee  shall  oorae  a  Governor,  that  shall  rule  my 
people  Israel. 
Then  Herod,  when  he  had  privily  called  the 
wise  men.  Inquired  of  them  diligently  for  the 
ume  the  star  appeared. 
And  he  sent  them  te  Bethlehem,  and  said.  Go 
and  search  diligently  for  the  young  child;  and 
when  ye  have  found  him,  bring  me  word  again, 
that  I  may  come  and  worship  him  also. 
When  they  had  heard  the  king,  they  departed ; 
and,  lo,  the  star,  which  they  saw  in  the  east,  went 
before  them,  till  it  came  and  stood  over  where  the 
young  child  was. 
When  they  saw  the  star,  they  rejoiced  with  ex¬ 
ceeding  great  Joy. 
And  when  they  were  come  Into  the  house,  they 
saw  the  young  child  with  Mary  his  mother,  and 
fell  down,  and  worshiped  him:  and  when  they 
had  opened  their  treasures,  they  presented  unto 
him  gifts;  gold,  and  frankincense,  and  myrrh. 
And  being  warned  of  God  In  a  dream  that  they 
should  not  return  to  Herod,  they  departed  Into 
their  own  country  another  way. 
And  when  they  were  departed,  behold,  the  angel 
of  the  Lord  appeareth  te  Joseph  in  a  dream,  say¬ 
ing.  Arise,  and  take  the  young  child  and  his 
mother,  and  flee  Into  Egypt,  and  be  thou  there 
until  I  bring  Wieeword:  for  Herod  will  seek  the 
young  child  to  destroy  him. 
When  he  arose,  he  took  the  young  child  and  his 
mother  by  night,  and  departed  Into  Egypt : 
And  was  there  until  the  death  of  Herod :  that 
It  might  be  fulfilled  which  was  spoken  of  the  Lord 
by  the  prophet,  saying,  Out  of  Egypt  have  I  called 
my  son. 
—  -  - 
John  u,  8T  :  Peace  I  leave  with  you,  my  peace 
I  give  unto  you. 
Ps.  119, 165:  Great  peace  have  they  which  love 
the  law ;  and  nothing  shall  offend  them. 
Isa.  33,  IT ;  And  the  work  of  righteousness  shall 
be  peace. 
Jer.  14, 18 :  1  will  give  you  aasured  peace. 
