THE TEACHER'S OFFERING.

Christmas Pictures.

Do you wish to have a merry Christmas, my young readers? Why, what a foolish question!" you say; "of course we do;

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who doesn't?"

Well, with all my heart, I wish you one; and though I am not sure you will like my directions, I think I can promise it shall not be a very unhappy one, if you will follow them.

I want you, every one, beginning from this very first of December, to think- "What can I do this Christmas to make some one else happy?"

It is a curious thing, that if we are thinking very much about making ourselves happy, we are almost sure to succeed badly, and to end by being sad, because we began by being selfish. But the more we think about making others happy, the lighter and brighter our own hearts feel. It is a very safe way, too, for ourselves, for if we are always loving and thinking about somebody else, it is more than likely somebody will love us and think of us in return; and if not, why never mind, we shall have God's smile in our hearts, and know that we are doing, in a very little way, what Jesus did.

Do you think Jesus was happy when He left His throne of glory and lived on earth abased for us? We cannot see that there was much to make him so; and yet the Bible says that the joy of blessing and saving us was so great that it helped Him to bear all His sufferings, from the cradle to the cross; and this is a kind of joy of which we may every one know something, if we go the right way to work.

Now, I cannot see what sort of pictures you have made in your mind of what you would like your Christmas to be; but I will show you one I can see in the firelight.

I see a little room-quite a little room-which would not hold more than twelve people, even if three or four of them were children, and the small round-table was pushed quite up into the corner. It is a plain little room, too, but the Christmas fire understands how to burn cheerily and brightly, and the faces know how to reflect the merry gleams. The holly and mistletoe over the door and mantel-piece are only stray bits which the greengrocer gave to the children, and the presents on the very young Christmas tree, in the middle of the table, certainly did not cost more than a shilling or two, but they are giving pounds-worth's of delight.

The family have just come in from their plain English dinner of roast beef and plum-pudding in the kitchen, and now the presents are to be taken off the tree, the chestnuts roasted, the apples and oranges cut into all sorts of funny shapes, pigs and lilies, and lobsters' tails. Would you like to know who the family are ? You shall see. There are the father and mother, of course; middle-aged people; but not too old to remember what it was to be young. There is the eldest daughter come home for the afternoon

from her place; and, more delightful still, the tall, hearty sailor-boy, who can spin yarns by the yard when story-telling time comes. Then there are four younger children, going down by degrees ; there is no baby now; for "of such is the kingdom of heaven."

There is the old white-headed grandfather, too, and one more visitor, who is led in very carefully, and placed in the most comfortable seat by the fire. She is a poor blind woman, but she almost forgets the outer darkness to-day in the light that kindness makes within; she is no relation of the family, and is one who can never recompense her poor friends; but they shall be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.

It would take me all day to tell you half the fun they had, and half the stories the sailor-boy told before bed-time came. You must try and fancy all this for yourselves. Only let us peep in once more before the light goes out. They are all sitting round the room, with their Bibles in their hands-the father and mother leaning together over one large book. They read a verse round, and then kneel down to bless God for all the good and perfect gifts which have "loaded their hearts with thankfulness, as trees in bearing."

Did I hear a sigh just now? I think I did; and it came from a pale, fair-haired child, who thinks how different her Christmas picture is,-must be from this. She knows her father will only come home late, very late, on Christmas Eve, and that he will bring no money with him, and they will all shrink out of his way as they hear his heavy footstep. She knows how troubled her mother will look on Christmas morning, and how she will have to go out to work all day, helping with the dinner at some great

house. She knows her father, too, will go out again in the morning, not to work, but to waste, and that she will have to stay at home all day, and keep the little ones happy as well as she can. She will let them look out of the window at the holiday makers till they are tired and cross, and then quiet their hunger with the bread and dripping, which is all their Christmas dinner.

My little girl, I wish I knew your name, and where you live. I should like to help to make your Christmas Day a little brightera little more like what Christmas should be. But there is One who knows; and while you are trying (if you do it gently and patiently) to amuse those little ones, and make them happy, He is standing at the door, with His hands full of rich, precious gifts for you better than any that can be bought in shops and hung on Christmas trees. He could give you all plenty to eat and drink now, if He pleased, as long ago He sent angels and ravens to feed His servants in their distress; but, for some wise reason, He does not help you so just now.

"Trust

Yet still He stands at the door, and knocks and says, me, love me, believe that I am too wise to err, too good to be unkind, and I will surely give you better, richer blessings than any you can ask or think for yourself."

Listen to Him, and you will find the fretfulness gone from your heart, even if you are cold and hungry still. Listen to Him, and He will make you willing to bear and to wait, while a voice within

says

"He who was the Lord most high,

Once was poorer far than I,

That I might hereafter be

Rich to all eternity."