One black night

storm and calm, bearing all who came. in winter, Christopher lay in his hut, sheltered from the weather. It was bitterly cold: the wind roared furiously among the pine-trees; the clouds drove across the sky; the river, swollen by the rains, was a torrent. As the ferryman lay wrapped up in his skins, there came to his ear a sound like the cry of a child. He raised his head to listen it came again more distinctly than before. He went out, but could see nothing but the dark waves of the river, could hear nothing but the roar of the winds and waves. Thinking that his hearing had deceived him, he went back to his hut, and tried to sleep; but again the cry came, as of a child in distress. He went forth once more, down to the water's edge; and there, on the steep bank, sat a little child, crying piteously, and praying to be carried over the stream. Christopher took the little one in his arms, carried him into the hut, lighted his fire, spread a warm bear-skin before it, and tried to make the child sleep till the morning. But the child would not be satisfied; its cries became louder; it would be carried across the stream at once. So Christopher, seeing there was nothing else to do, took his staff, made of the trunk of a pine-tree, placed the little boy securely on his shoulder, and began the passage The water was deep; the current was strong; the waves were high. He had scarcely made half the distance, when the burden he carried seemed so heavy, that he could scarcely stand under it. His limbs trembled; his knees bent; the sweat poured in streams from his body: still he staggered on, saying no word, till with prodigious effort, strained, and out of breath, he reached the shore.

“Who art thou?" he said to the child, as, lifting him from his shoulders, he placed him tenderly on the grass. But the child was no more a child: his form rose and

dilated; his face put on a wonderful expression; his hair was like a glory; his eyes were like stars. It was the Christ who stood there, and said to the wondering giant, "I am the King thou seekest. Thou art, indeed, Christopher: thy service is accepted."

THE LOVING EYE SEES BEAUTY EVERY-
WHERE.

JESUS drew near to a village with his companions.
As they entered the gate, behold! a crowd of people
were gathered; and, from their gestures, it appeared that
they were interested in something that was lying on the
stones of the street. Making his way through the press,
Jesus approached to see what it was; and, lo! dead on the
stones, there lay a dog, who had been hunted down and
killed. He had been mad. The people were making
remarks on the poor creature, and, in various ways, were
giving vent to their disgust. "How horrible he is to look
at!" said one: "see the foam on his lips, the blood on his
tongue and in his eyes!"-" And his skin," said another;
"how rough and torn it is! and how dusty too!"— “But
look at his ears, all slit and ragged! See how his tongue
is bitten, and what an ugly gash he has on his head!"
"Ugh!" grunted a fourth; "but look at the flies on him!
how they swarm! how they buzz! See them fight for
that great sore place on his side!" He is dead and
rotting !" ___"
Pah! how he smells!" While they talked
thus, coming and going, holding their breath, and express-
ing all kinds of disgust, Jesus looked on pityingly. Sud-
denly he turned to the people, and said, “But see how
pearly white his teeth are!" They looked at him, and
said, "Surely thou art the Christ; for none but he would
fnd beauty in any thing so hideous!"

"HE PRAYETH BEST WHO LOVETH BEST."

A

MONK was praying in his cell. The spirit of prayer

was strong in him; his heart was full, his feeling was earnest, his thoughts were quick; he felt himself near to God; tears of gratitude filled his eyes; his voice trembled with emotion; his face was glowing. He had never had such rapture in his prayer before: earth and all earthly things were forgotten; men and all human beings passed from his mind; heaven was in his soul; and, as he prayed, heaven opened on his vision. The angels seemed all around him. In full view, palpable to sight, stood the Madonna, looking down on him with tender eyes. Absorbed in contemplation of the beautiful presènce, and happy as an angel himself, he hardly heard the bell that told him he was wanted for some duty at the door. It rang again. Could he leave the blessed place for the cold air outside? Could he leave his blissful prayer, and go out on some common work of charity, probably to hear some old woman's story, or help some beggar in his rags? There was the bright presence of the Virgin full before him she might vanish at any moment; could he go while she staid? In a moment, these thoughts passed through his mind: but he remembered his vow; and, before the bell sounded a third time, he was at the door, answering the call. It was a miserable beggar with a long tale of distress, and a prayer for charity. He listened patiently to the tale; he relieved the want: then he went back to his cell, expecting to find all that glory departed. To his surprise, there stood the Virgin just as before, only, if that were possible, more beautiful in face and expression. Her lips opened; and a voice said to him, "Hadst thou not gone, I had not remained."

J

NEVER DESPISE SMALL THINGS.

ESUS was walking with his disciples along the high

road towards a village now not very distant. They were talking, as they loved to talk, about the Master, and about themselves, and about the new kingdom that was to be set up soon, in which they were to have the first places and the chief honors. They carried their heads high; for they were thinking of crowns and sceptres and thrones and body-guards, palaces to live in, fine clothes to wear, and delicacies to eat. As they talked on, full of hope, and warm with excitement, Jesus fell behind a few steps, and became absorbed in his own thoughts.

Suddenly, one of the company struck with his foot some hard object that lay hidden in the dust of the road. It was an old, rusty, worn horse-shoe, that had been cast by the steed of some Roman officer. There was a moment's pause; but, seeing what it was, the high-minded travellers spurned it with their feet, as not being worth picking up, and, resuming their conversation, went proudly on. Jesus noticed their action, marked where the horse-shoe lay, and, on coming to the place, quietly stooped, picked it up, and put it into the fold of his robe.

They staid but a few moments in the village; but Jesus took occasion to stop, unobserved by his companions, at a stall in the fruit-market, where he exchanged his old iron shoe for some cherries. These he put in his large sleeve, and rejoined his friends. They left the village, and were out on the high-road again. The day became sultry; the soil was parched; there was no water to be seen; there was no tree to afford them shade. After a time, they became silent, and doggedly stumbled on,

their eyes bent vacantly on the ground. Jesus walked a few steps in advance of the rest. Presently, without looking round or saying a word, he dropped a cherry. It was quickly pounced upon by Peter, though it made his tired back ache sorely to stoop so low. In a minute or two, another cherry dropped, and down went Peter again and so on, every few minutes, Jesus let fall a cherry, only one at a time; and, each time a cherry fell, some tall form was bent to pick it up. When Jesus thought he had made his companions stoop often enough, he turned, and gave them the remainder of the fruit. Most grateful it was to their thirsty mouths. But where did you get

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them?" asked Peter. Then Jesus reminded them of the old horse-shoe, told them what he had done with it, and said, "If you had not been too proud to stoop once

when you were strong, you would not have been obliged to stoop so many times when you were weak."

A

CHARITY TO THE SINNING.

GREAT many years ago, in a monastery of nuns, there lived a young girl named Beatrice. She was very beautiful; but she was no more beautiful than she was good. She prayed to the Holy Virgin constantly, and was very much devoted to all pious duties in her service. So great was her piety, that, though young, she became stewardess, or housekeeper, of the convent; had charge of the money; purchased the needful supplies; and gave alms at the door. For some time, she filled this place with equal wisdom and generosity, making herself