There was a quick, dry sob; it was from Nelson.

"I used to peek through under to see the little one in the straw, and wonder what things swaddling clothes were. Oh! it was all so real and beautiful!”

He paused, and I could hear the men breathing.

"But one Christmas Eve," he went on, in a lower, sweeter tone," there was no one to tell me the story, and I grew to forget it, and went away to college, and learned to think that it was only a child's tale and was not for men. Then bad days came to me, and worse, and I began to lose my grip of myself, of life, of hope, of goodness, till one black Christmas, in the slums of a far-away city, when I had given up all, and the devil's arms were about me, I heard the story again. And as I listened, with a bitter ache in my heart- for I had put it all behind me — I suddenly found myself peeking under the shepherd's arms with a child's wonder at the Baby in the straw. Then it came over me like great waves, that His name was Jesus, because it was He that should save men from their sins. Save! Save! The waves kept beating upon my ears, and before I knew, I had called out, 'Oh, can He save me?' It was in a little mission meeting on one of the side streets, and they seemed to be used to that sort of thing there, for no one was surprised; and a young fellow leaned across the aisle to me and said, 'Why, you just bet He can!' His surprise that I should doubt, his bright face and confident tone, gave me hope that perhaps it might be so. I held to that hope with all my soul, and "- stretching up his arms, and with a quick glow in his face and a little break in his voice-"He hasn't failed me yet; not once, not once!"

He stopped short, and I felt a good deal like making a fool of myself, for in those days I had not made up my mind about these things. Graeme, poor old chap, was gazing at him with a sad yearning in his dark eyes; big Sandy was sitting very stiff, and staring harder than ever into the fire; Baptiste was trembling with excitement; Blaney was openly wiping the tears away. But the face that held my eyes was that of old man Nelson. It was white, fierce, hungry-looking, his sunken eyes burning, his lips parted as if to cry.

The minister went on. "I didn't mean to tell you this, men; it all came over me with a rush; but it is true, every word, and not a word will I take back. And, what's more, I can tell you this: what He did for me He can do for any man, and it doesn't make any difference what's behind him, and "-leaning slightly forward, and with a little thrill of pathos vibrating in his voice-"Oh, boys! why don't you give Him a chance at you? Without Him you'll never be the men you want to be, and you'll never get the better of that that's keeping some of you now from going back home. You know you'll never go back till you're the men you want to be." Then, lifting up his face, and throwing back his head, he said, as if to himself, "Jesus! He shall save His people from their sins," and then, "Let us pray."

Graeme leaned forward with his face in his hands; Baptiste and Blaney dropped on their knees; Sandy, the Campbells, and some others, stood up. Old man Nelson held his eyes steadily on the minister.

Only once before had I seen that look on a human face. A young fellow had broken through the ice on the river at home, and as the black water was dragging his fingers one by one from the slippery edges, there came over his face that same look. I used to wake up for many a night after in a sweat of horror, seeing the white face with its parting lips, and its piteous, dumb appeal, and the black water slowly sucking it down.

Nelson's face brought it all back; but during the prayer the face changed, and seemed to settle into resolve of some sort, stern, almost gloomy, as of a man with his last chance before him.

After the prayer Mr. Craig invited the men to a Christmas dinner next day in Black Rock. "And because you are an independent lot, we'll charge you half a dollar for dinner and the evening show." Then leaving a bundle of magazines and illustrated papers on the table send to the men - he said good-by and went out.

a god

I was to go with the minister, so I jumped into the sleigh first, and waited while he said good-by to Graeme, who had been hard hit by the whole service, and seemed to

want to say something. I heard Mr. Craig say, cheerfully and confidently, "It's a true bill. Try Him."

Sandy, who had been steadying Dandy while that interesting broncho was attempting with great success to balance himself on his hind legs, came to say good-by.

66

Come and see me first thing, Sandy."

"Ay! I know; I'll see ye, Mr. Craig," said Sandy, earnestly, as Dandy dashed off at a full gallop across the clearing and over the bridge, steadying down when he reached the hill.

This was to Dandy, who had taken a sudden side spring into the deep snow, almost upsetting us. A man stepped out from the shadow. It was old man Nelson. He came straight to the sleigh, and, ignoring my presence completely, said:

"Mr. Craig, are you dead sure of this? Will it work?" "Do you mean," said Craig, taking him up promptly, can Jesus Christ save you from your sins and make a man of you?"

66

The old man nodded, keeping his hungry eyes on the other's face.

"Well, here's His message to you: The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which is lost.''

'Him that cometh

"To me? To me?" said the old man, eagerly. "Listen; this, too, is His word: unto Me, I will in no wise cast out.' here you are, coming."

That's for you, for

"You don't know me, Mr. Craig. I left my baby fifteen years ago because —”

"Stop!" said the minister.

"Don't tell me at least not to-night; perhaps never. Tell Him who knows it all now, and who never betrays a secret. Have it out with Him. Don't be afraid to trust Him."

Nelson looked at him, with his face quivering, and said in a husky voice:

"If this is no good, it's hell for me."

"If it is no good," replied Craig, almost sternly, "it's hell for all of us."

The old man straightened himself up, looked up at the

stars, then back at Mr. Craig, then at me, and, drawing a deep breath, said:

"I'll try Him."

As he was turning away, the minister touched him on the arm, and said, quietly:

"Keep an eye on Sandy to-morrow."

Nelson nodded, and we went on; but before we took the .next turn I looked back and saw what brought a lump into my throat. It was old man Nelson on his knees in the snow, with his hands spread upward to the stars, and I wondered if there was any One above the stars, and nearer than the stars, who could see. And then the trees hid him from my sight.- Black Rock.

ORE, CATHERINE GRACE FRANCES MOODY, an English novelist; born at East Retford, Notts, in 1799; died at Lyndhurst, Hampshire, January 29, 1861. She was the daughter of a wine-merchant. In 1823 she married Captain Gore. Her first novel was Theresa Marchmont, published in 1823. It was followed by The Bond (1824); Lettre de Cachet and The Reign of Terror (1827); Women as They Are (1830), and Mothers and Daughters (1831. These novels were favorably received, and Mrs. Gore continued to write, frequently publishing two novels a year. She also wrote a comedy, School for Coquettes (1831). Among her many works, in addition to those mentioned, are Mrs. Armytage (1836); Mary Raymond and The Adventures of a Peeress (1838); Cecil: The Adventures of a Coxcomb (1841); The Dean's Daughter; The Hamiltons; The Ambassador's Wife; Mammon; Peers and Parvenus; Preferment; The Banker's Wife; Self;

The Soldier of Lyons, and The Tuileries. Her latest work was The Two Aristocracies (1857).

A PRUDENT WORLDLY WOMAN.

Lady Lilfield was a thoroughly worldly woman — a worthy scion of the Mordaunt stock. She had professedly accepted the hand of Sir Robert because a connection with him was the best that happened to present itself in the first year of her debut — the "best match" to be had at a season's warning! She knew that she had been brought out with the view to dancing at a certain number of balls, refusing a certain number of good offers, and accepting a better one, and she regarded it as a propitious dispensation of Providence to her parents and to herself, that the comparative proved a superlative—even a highsheriff of the county, a baronet of respectable date, with ten thousand a year! She felt that her duty toward herself necessitated an immediate acceptance of the dullest "good sort of man extant throughout the three kingdoms; and the whole routine of her after-life was regulated by the same code of moral selfishness. She was penetrated with a most exact sense of what was due to her position in the world; but she was equally precise in her appreciation of all that, in her turn, she owed to society nor, from her youth upward had she been detected in the slightest infraction of these minor social duties.

She knew with arithmetical accuracy the number of dinners which Beech Park was indebted to its neighborhood the complement of laundry-maids indispensable to the maintenance of its county dignity — the aggregate of pines by which it must retain its horticultural precedence. She had never retarded by a day or an hour the arrival of the family coach in Grosvenor Square at the exact moment creditable to Sir Robert's senatorial punctuality; nor procrastinated by half a second the simultaneous bobs of her ostentatious Sunday-school, as she sailed majestically along the aisle toward her tall, stately, pharisaical, squirearchical pew. True to the execution of her tasks and her whole life was but one laborious task; true and exact as the great bell of the