Rich blessing shall be given

A thousandfold to thee.

"For in the fields of heaven

Thou shalt roam with Me at will; And of bright fruit celestial

Thou shalt have, dear child, thy fill!"

Thus tenderly and kindly

The fair Child Jesus spoke; And, full of careful musings, The anxious mother woke.

And thus it was accomplished;
In a short month and a day,
That lovely boy, so gentle,
Upon his death-bed lay.

And thus he spoke, in dying:
"O mother dear, I see
The beautiful Child Jesus
A-coming down to me!

"And in His hand He beareth

Bright flowers as white as snow,

And red and juicy strawberries,
Dear mother, let me go!"

He died

but that fond mother

Her sorrow did restrain ;

For she knew he was with Jesus,

And she asked him not again!

TRANSLATED BY MARY HOWITT: From the German of Johann
Gottfried von Herder.

AIDS TO STUDY

Picture a real old gentleman teaching school in Germany more than a hundred years ago. See how interested he is in each pupil. He regards them as his children. See how each child respects him. The children go to him as to a father. Such was the man who in his spare moments wrote The Boy and the Child Jesus for his little friends. When Mary Howitt (1800-1888), a convert to the Catholic Church, read this poem in German, she made up her mind to translate it into English so that many children might be able to enjoy it as she had.

a-coming (α-kŭm'ing), in the act

of coming.

musings (mūz'ingz), reflections, thoughts.

celestial (se les'chăl), belonging sanctify (săŋk'ti fi), to make to Heaven. sacred or holy.

1. How many characters are there in this story-poem? 2. Tell what you know about each of these characters. 3. Where was the statue? 4. Who sat near it on summer evenings? 5. About what did they talk? 6. On one occasion, what did the boy say to the Child Jesus? 7. Of what did the mother dream that night? 8. What did the Child say to her boy? 9. As he was dying, what did the boy say to his mother? 10. What effect did his words have? 11. Words that have the same, or nearly the same, meaning are called synonyms; for example, the words

little and small have nearly the same meaning. 12. Give the synonyms for oft, rove, pondered, celestial, musings.

1. Tell this story in your own words. 2. Separate the selection into its principal scenes. 3. Describe the ones which appeal to you. 4. Give a description of the characters. 5. Tell what each one says. 6. What details make up the picture that is described in the first three stanzas?

FOREST HYMN

The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,

And spread the roof above them, ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems, in the darkling wood,
Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication. Let me, then, at least,
Here, in the shadow of this aged wood,
Offer one hymn thrice happy, if it find
Acceptance in His ear.

Father, Thy hand

Hath reared these venerable columns; Thou

Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose

All these fair ranks of trees. They in Thy sun

Budded, and shook their green leaves in Thy breeze And shot towards heaven.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

A CHRISTMAS-EVE ADVENTURE

Do you remember the first time you went to confession? Do you recall what a wonderful change came over you? After you had obtained God's forgiveness, you felt better and holier. There was a feeling of unusual strength and courage in your heart; and there was an increase of trust and confidence in our Blessed Lord. You felt that you could undertake anything for the Saviour; and you even longed for an opportunity to show Him how truly you loved Him. That was the very feeling which animated the heart of the little hero of the Christmas-Eve Adventure. He had been to confession. He was strengthened by the sacrament. He was at peace with God and the world. In the following story we shall see how this brave boy in a trying situation was saved through prayer and confidence in God.

I will try to tell this story just as it was told to me, many Christmases ago, by an old monk.

My father was a farmer, and our little property was, and is still, in a very lonely place in England, some miles distant from any town. I was not quite thirteen when what I am about to relate happened to me. It was Christmas Eve, and as my father had been away from home all day on some important business, I had worked longer and harder than he generally

allowed me to do. I attended a Catholic day school in the town which lay four miles off, but of course the holidays had already begun. My mother and sisters had gone into the town on various errands - the most important of which, as I knew, was confession. I myself had been that very morning.

In spite of feeling tired, I was very happy on that Christmas Eve, partly on account of the nearness of the great feast, partly because I had already been to confession; also I think I was pleased to have done such a big day's work. Mother had told me she was very proud of me, and that father would be delighted when he knew how hard I had labored.

We had an early tea, and I began the milking a little sooner than usual, for my mother wanted Joe, the only one of our men who slept in the house, to drive the horse. At half-past five or so, there was so little left to do that our plowman and his two lads went home.

As I stepped out of the yard into our cozy houseplace, I suddenly remembered that our one female servant had gone to see some relatives in the little village that lay about half a mile from the farm. I was the only person left in the house.

However, I don't think it occurred to me to be in any way afraid. I had my milking smock on, and the first thing I did was to remove the leather strap that