slighter in form, and in his countenance [ fellow, possessing a generous, impulsive there could be read more of thoughtfulness heart, but quick to take offence, with an oband cultivation than any peculiar force of stinate sensitiveness, which created for him will. These friends were united in a many unnecessary vexations. The parents modern Damon and Pythias connection. of the young people were delighted with Born in Ireland, of good old stock, their their attachment, although unfortunately it friendship was first formed, while still very became the cause of sudden trouble which young, in mutual endeavors to effect the threatened the utter destruction of a lifelong freedom of their own dear land. They had friendship. been actively engaged in an ill-fated patriotic movement, which, failing, made them outlaws and compelled them to fly for protection to the hospitable shores of our Republic. Here they prospered, even in a greater degree than their countrymen usually do, and, after some years, both married. Family ties, business cares, nothing could separate them, and as years passed the bond of union between them and theirs became stronger. Their two families were really as one, sharing together all the pleasures and confidences of life and presenting a beautiful spectacle of harmony and affection. I well remember that when I had grown up and made their acquaintance many an hour of social recreation I enjoyed in their midst. With what eagerness would I listen to the two exiles as they recounted the aspirations and deeds of the "men of '98" and the adventures they themselves had encountered in a similarly patriotic uprising. How my young heart burned with a strange fire as they told of the wrongs they had seen and endured. Ah, me, those days have long since passed away and I shall never hear their manly voices on earth again! Philip Dolan, with characteristic caution, refused his consent to their marriage until they had attained a certain age, and his friend's son had proved himself able to accept the responsibility of wedded life. Often when addressed upon the subject he would say: "I don't believe in the idea of a young man depending upon his father's earnings. Let him have only the aid he actually needs and then work out for himself his position in life. If he be a true man, with God's blessing he shall succeed, and owe his sucsess to no one's bounty--not even his parents'." Now, though Francis Norton, was fast becoming an energetic business man and lacked not a fitting spirit of independ ence, he was slightly tainted with that disdain of older people's experience, which may be styled a Young Americanism, and therefore did not receive this decision of Mary's father with anything approaching graciousness. He became gloomy and morose and would not be counselled by Mary, who, however, ready to share his fortunes, respected and acknowledged the force of her father's commands. At last his impatience, long smouldering, would not be restrained, and broke out in the fury of unreasoning Philip Dolan had a daughter named Mary, passion. One day while brooding over his born two years after his friend Norton's son, imagined wrongs he met Philip Dolan. At Francis, and between these children, as they first he pleaded his cause somewhat calmly, advanced in years, grew up an attachment but incensed by the firm demeanor of his calculated to make the union of their re- father's friend, lost all self-control, and then spective families still stronger, if that were both the young and the old man forgot prupossible. By one of those contradictions, or dence, bitterly taunted each other, and rather strange dispensations of Providence, parted in anger. The evil did not stop here. which we mortals cannot explain, Mary had By some potent influence Francis induced none of the stern firmness of her father's his father, Patrick Norton, to espouse his character, while her friend and lover, Fran- side of the dispute and thereby caused a cis, very closely imitated him in that respect. coolness between the parents of the lovers, She was a sweet girl, and I can never hear which at last terminated in a suspension of the name Mary but I think of her, so beau-friendly intercourse. This was a sad blow tiful and good. Francis was a manly young to Mary, her mother and the mother of Fran cis, but most of all to the heads of the families, Philip Dolan and Patrick Norton, though these stubbornly refused to give any evidence of their regret. Time passed on and neither of these men attempted to resume their friendly relations, but down in their hearts there still existed a love for each other, which strive as they might they could not quench. spiration of a new-born strength. One day she sought the parish church, there to pray, and ask of God that the hearts of her father and his friend might open one to another again. On her way thither she met Francis Norton, and told him her mission. Awed by her manner, and impelled by some power, he could not refuse the request that he should accompany her. They both entered the church, and there, unconscious of her companion, and all around her, Mary tearfully implored Heaven's blessings on the two Weeks gave place to months, and the holidays were approaching. Both families looked forward to the festivities of the season with more painful than joyous anticipa- families. Her example touched the heart of tion. In past years it had witnessed their Francis. mutual reunion; now it came upon them auspicious moment, and whispered to him coldly, and they had no longer a common share in its happiness. His guardian angel saw the what God would have him do. He, too, prayed, and from his eyes there welled the The wife of Philip Dolan was a quiet, flow of long pent emotion, clearing away all re'iring woman, who never disputed her the angry passion of the past. The two husband's will, but, with many an appealing | lovers left the church no longer divided in glance and heart-born sigh, she craved of purpose, and animated by a resolve to heal him, in that eloquence more expressive than words, the removal of the bar between her family and the Nortons. Patrick Norton was held back by the same pride that bound his friend, though the latter's wife, too, often implored him to take the first step toward reconciliation. Alas, how foolish is poor human nature, and what childish impulses mark even its very maturity! the breach between their parents. The lesson of humility had entered the soul of Francis, and he was to say those few words which would dissipate the cloud that had darkened two homes. To Mary's house they went, and there Francis met her father, acknowledged his hasty imprudence, asked forgiveness for the evil his rash impatience had caused, and promised to abide by that which had been And the children of those separated decided. Need I tell how eagerly the friends-how fared they? Mary prayed in- apology was accepted, and how that old and cessantly, and in the s clusion of her own young man warmly grasped each other's room poured forth many a tearful petition hand and were reconciled again. Nor why to her whose name she bore—that heavenly should I describe the reunion of the entire mother of us all. Francis Norton, whose family-the meeting between the friends, impetuosity was the cause of all the diffi- Philip Dolan and Patrick Norton; how these culty, found for a while self-justification in strong men wept like children, blaming the promptings of his indignation, but con- themselves that a trifle should estrange them, science soon stripped resentment of its blind- and each asking God's pardon for their ness and sharply reproved him. The only temporary forgetfulness of His law of obstacle in the way of his retrieving his Charity. Suffice it to say, that on the second error became the same which barred the day after this reunion, which was Christmas, happiness of his father's friend—that forget the two families repaired together to the fulness of Christian charity, that heathen church, and with reverent souls partook of pride which the world calls independence. the Holy Communion, sealing before the Mary and he had met occasionally, and sacred altar their compact of Christian though her gentle influence retained some friendship. Joyously did they celebrate that power over him, he would scarcely listen to day, and ever after no cloud marred their her plans for a renewal of the friendship domestic circle. Francis prospered in his of their families. But Mary prayed on career and married Mary, who, ever gentle, and at last received from Heaven the in- curbed his impatient spirit, and whom he consequently always styled his "sweet peace- | prized, love once dear, has grown cold; if, maker." All these good people experienced in your hearts, there lingers one spark of rethe sorrows common to mankind, but they sentment's unholy flame-oh! let not the learned the lessons of Faith, Hope and birthday of Him who came upon earth to Charity, and therefore life ever presented a proclaim Charity's Divine Law, pass away "bright side" to them. without cleanzing from your souls all warNow, dear readers, I must close this hastying strife and every bitter thought. Stand sketch; but before I do, let me say that, though I wish not to sermonize, I trust that with you all there is that tranquility of mind which shall bring this season to you laden with joyous hopes. If among you there be aught of unkindly feeling—if triendship once before God and man with a clear, unsullied record; wash out your sins in His saving grace, and to you shall come, with inexpressible bliss, that salutation of the angels on Christmas morn: "Peace on earth to men of good will!" ODE TO THE NIGHT. [From the French of Lamartine.] BY S. Day fades on thy far distant heights, O earth, where languishing I stay, When, O when! my eyes, shall you behold the day, Stream forth an everlasting ray ? God of the day and night! O God of all the hours! Give me to wing my joyous flight on sunny beams. Say, whither drifts this purple cloud that westward streams? How beautiful unto Hope's longing, eager eye, Those shining choirs that in harmonious cycles sweep, Hear it, my soul! and understand. Th' abyss so steep, Ne'er shackles, wakes in watchful care incessantly. These waves of azure and of light, Those far-off nebulæ, unnumbered clustered spheres, O God! but dust that 'neath Thee veers. GOD BLESS US, EVERY ONE. THE CHRISTMAS PRAYER OF TINY TIM. BY REV. THOS. J. POTTER. "And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, every one." [From the Christmas Carol.-DICKENS.] He was a little feeble child, And full of care and pain, But yet with blithesome heart he sang His simple Christmas strain. God bless us all, cried Tiny Tim, God bless us, every one; So, too, we pray, this holy day, They sat around their humble board, Another Christmas day came round, Yet, as they deck'd his simple bier, They scarce could think him fled. Upon them still the little face In kindly presence shone, As still they seemed to hear him pray- Though many a place be vacant now, Though dim be many an eye, Which erst would greet the Christmas chime, A golden light comes gleaming down From dear ones who are gone, As pray we now, with Tiny Tim, God bless us, every one. A STUDENTS CHRISTMAS REVERY. 'Tis Christmas Eve, and BY T. M O. the red ings of former Yule times. Ah me! embers of my sinking coal fire, like the what wonder-working occult science remnants of many of my hopes and will restore me a sight of the dear comaspirations, are fast smouldering into panions of earlier days, or give me back ashes. Occasionally they throw out fit- the vanished hopes and exultant strugful gleams of dim light upon those vol- gles of the early morning of life? Who umes I have just closed, and which have will restore me again to the fond caresses been my companions for the past twelve of parents or to the wild freedom of months. I was thinking of dear friends boyhood's haunts, to clasp again the and companions whom I had known in slumberers who sleep beneath their midfar-off lands, the loved associates of night skies? Say, ye cunning masters many a merry Christmas time. Wizard of profound speculation and abstruse fancy was fast recalling their forms and mystery, upon whose learned treatises I features, tinged with the warm glow of am wasting the best part of my life, can the imagination. By-and-by, these fan- any of you unfold to me the secret by cies became strangely blended with the which, if only for an hour, I might "bid studies I had prolonged far into the defiance to time and space" and behold night. Around me lay the musty tomes again the forms of those I have known of logic, law and ethics, volumes filled in the days that are departed? Alas! I with the wisdom of the ancients, weird vainly query the spirits of the mighty legends and folk lore of mediæval bard, dead-the great seers of old whose chronicler and seer; and in curious com- labors are treasured up in these panionship with these, stood old tracts tomes; they answer not my questionof divinity and biblical exegesis, shoulder ings. "Why, then," I exclaimed, chafto shoulder in solid phalanxes on the ing against the loneliness and solitude of contiguous book-shelf. Not far off was my chamber-lonely and solitary at a the wine-glass, brimful of old Sauterne time when the outside world was abanand smiling faintly in the dusky shim- doning itself to all the happy influences mer of the sinking embers. Its spark of the season, in festive rejoicings and ling contents are yet untasted, for the reunions at the domestic hearth-" Why, unsocial glass has least attractions at then, should I condemn myself to perthis period of festive reunions. And, petual exile from those pleasures which oh! silent Ashtoreth, the lone wilder- make life sweet and home attractive, in ness of my present life! I push the de- order to pursue the hollow visions of a ceitful draught from me. No, gentle purposeless ambition? Shall the fire of queen of the skies, not all the vintages my youth go out and be buried in a of D'Outre-Mer, nor the most sapid sepulchre of books, the ashes of the amviands prepared by cunning hands can bitious dead? Away," cried I, dashing satisfy the famine of my heart or fill its a volume of alchemy into the the flicksecret avenues with the lost endearments ering flame, "vain relic of the useless and the recollections of friendly greet-life of one who strove fruitlessly to mas |