We'll try to make them happy still, And comfort father too, By doing for them all we can, They say, our heavenly Father took Oh, then, how very hard we'll strive That we may be bright spirits too, TRUTH. H. S. H. DIAMONDS are glittering and bright and rare; FRESH FLOWERS. THE CHRISTMAS-TREE. - JUST before a certain Christmas and a certain New Year's Day, a boy's head was full-as boys' heads are apt to be at that season of all sorts of conjectures and fancies in regard to the presents he meant to make, and the presents he hoped to receive. Almost every hour he was wondering what father would give him, what mother would give him, what his elder brothers and sisters, his uncles, aunts, and cousins, and all his friends, would give him. One evening he talked, and guessed, and wished, and thought aloud, with his little sister, about the expected gifts, till bedtime. He was not quite willing, when the clock struck "his hour," to march up stairs still, as he never sat up later, unless on some very remarkable occasion, like a birth-night or a Thanksgiving-night, he did march; and was soon snug between the sheets, and tucked up warmly. For a few moments he sung and chatted away to himself; but an afternoon of sliding and skating had made him rather tired, and it was not long before his eyes were closed and his body - went to sleep. But his spirit would not go to sleep too,— at least not soundly. It kept thinking in a queer way about many queer things. At last it had or, as the spirit is the REAL boy, we will say he had quite a long and continued DREAM; a part of which I will try to tell you. The boy dreamed that it was Christmaseve, that a little bell rung, and that he, holding his little sister by the hand, entered, with all the family, a large and beautiful room, which was as light as noon-day. In the centre of the room stood quite a tall tree; and by the side of the tree stood a lady, clad in a shining, flowing robe of white, with a wreath of orange blossoms around her head, fastened in front by a diamond star; and from underneath the wreath long curls of golden hair flowed down over her shoulders. Her countenance was very lovely: it seemed to the boy as if her smile was even sweeter, purer, and more full of affection, than the smile of his mother: it went right to his heart, and won his confidence in an instant. soon as she caught his steady and trustful look, she pointed to the tree with one hand, and beckoned him with the other to come towards it. He went, leading his sister. The tree resembled, and yet was unlike, every Christmas-tree he had ever seen before: the branches appeared more As graceful, the leaves of a deeper living green; the tapers gave a softer and yet more brilliant light. Instead of toys and baskets of sugar-plums, and papers of candy, suspended from the twigs, there were a number of small festoons, which looked as if made of the softest and most delicate satin, of various colors, though not a single color was gaudy or glaring; and interspersed among the tapers and festoons were several kinds of modest flowers, snow-drops, rose-buds, lilies of the valley, and the like; all as fresh as if just gathered with the dew of the summer's morning upon them, and shedding through the room a delightful odor. Presently, the lady slightly touched, one after another, the festoons; and they all unrolled and hung down, as it were, so many silken banners. At the top of each was a picture; below the picture, in golden letters, a sentence by itself; and underneath that, perfectly distinct lines of reading. When all the festoons were unfolded, and had arranged themselves gracefully, so as to be bathed in the clearest light, the lady made a sign to the boy and his sister to look and read as much as they wished. The children were glad enough to do so; and they looked and read with eager eyes and delighted hearts, till they had gone over every silken page, and some of them more than once. I have nei ther time nor room now to tell you about all the pictures and sentences and stories the boy dreamed he saw and read. There were a great many of them,- very beautiful and very true. He saw Mungo Park, just as he was about to lie down and die of thirst in the desert, filled with new hope, as he saw a little tuft of grass, and thought that God, who took care of the flowers in lonely places, would also take care of him: he saw little Nell, leading her old grandfather, like a loving and patient child: he saw Grace Darling, a brave young girl, going out in a boat upon the stormy sea, when men were afraid, to save people from the wreck of a steam-ship: he saw Howard in hospitals and jails, taking care of poor creatures sick with the plague and other terrible diseases: he saw honest John Pounds in his cobbler's shop, with his cats and birds, teaching poor children: he saw these (whose good deeds your parents and teachers will relate) and many more besides, which I cannot even name here. But the last festoon that was unrolled deserves a particular description. The picture represented a company of angels, bearing in their arms a little child towards the bright skies, which seemed to open a way to heaven. The motto was, "Suffer little children to come unto me," and then followed. |