so much maddening speculation. Sometimes, while straining to grasp at extraordinary knowledge, he had felt as though falling from a giddy height into outer darkness, and had drawn back shuddering, eager to catch at some homely fact for support. He smiled now mockingly to himself. "Perhaps the stars did sing. Like a child, I'm going to make believe they did, and that one 'hand-maid lamp' did attend the birth of Jesus." It was easier to believe anything while he listened to that Gloria. For, disregarded as Madeleine might be at other times, when she sang she was regnant. Her voice was magnetic enough to draw the links from any man's logic. Ceasing, she called Mr. and Mrs. Blake to the piano, and the three sang Milton's Hymn on the Nativity. It is astonishing how magnificently some small-souled persons do contrive to sing, expressing sentiments which they must be totally incapable of experiencing. Mrs. Blake sung a superb contralto, and the three perfect voices struck fire from one listener's heart as they beat the emphatic rhythm of that majestical measure. All but Miss Madeleine went to bed early. She kept vigil, and was to call them. They seemed scarcely to have slept when they heard her voice ring up the stairs in the muezzin call which she christianized for the occasion, being in no mood to call Mohammed a prophet: "Great is the Lord! Great is the Lord! I bear witness that there is no God but the Lord! I bear witness that Jesus is the Son of God! Come unto prayer come unto happiness Great is the Lord! Great is the Lord! There is no God but the Lord! Prayer is better than sleep — prayer is better than sleep!" As the last word died upon the air, every foot touched the floor, and in half an hour the party had gathered as wild as witches. Mr. Andrew came down grumbling. "Cannot we hear music and see candles without getting out of bed for the purpose at such unearthly hours? I had just gone to sleep, and was in Elysium. Miss Madeleine, why should you say that prayer is better than sleep? We are not going to pray; we are going to hear demi-semi-quavers, and Mr. Bassoon's C in the deeps. I'll go to bed again.” "Possibly we may pray, Mr. Andrew," she said in a low tone. "I have been thinking to night, and it seems to me that God had a Son, and that he will come down this morning and stand in the midst of the candles." A Catholic, unless a convert, can scarcely understand the emotions of a stranger who enters a church for the first time on one of our great festivals. That "cool, silver shock" must be taken from another element. Our party stepped from the dim and frosty starlight into an illumination more dazzling than daylight, into a warmth that was fragrant with flowers, into a crowd where every face had a smile dissolved in it. And over all waved a sparkling tissue of violin music from the orchestra. "By George!" was Mr. Blake's only audible comment. "Turns up the mastodon strata in them," whispered Mr. Andrew to the lady on his arm. They were shown to seats, and sat watching the steadily increasing crowd, and the altar that was a pyramid of fire. The worshippers were, of course, various ragged Irishwomen, whose faith invested them with better than cloth of gold: rich ladies, sweeping in velvets and sables, but with thoughts of better things in their faces; ambitious working girls, finer than their mistresses. A pretty young woman came into the bench in front of our party, her face beautifully arranged to represent modesty and sweetness. She cast a glance behind at her audience, than sank upon her knees and beat her breast with one hand, while she arranged her bonnet-strings with the other. This performance at an end, she faced about and closely scanned the gallery, turning again and again till those behind her began to feel annoyed. "I do wish he'd come !" said Madeleine impatiently. "He has come," whispered Mr. Andrew, as the young woman suddenly turned towards the altar, and began a series of languishing attitudes and prostrations, all her répertoire of theatrical devotion. A grand-looking man next attracted their attention, walking past with the unmistakable sailor roll. His head was erect, and his massive shoulders looked fit for Atlas burdens; but the clear, blue eyes were gentle, and his face was full of a beautiful solemnity and reverence. As he walked, the long, tawny beard flowing down his breast waved slightly. Madeleine gave Mr. Andrew's arm a delighted squeeze, and whispered, 666 'With many a tempest had his beard been shake.' Fancy him on the ship's deck, in mid-ocean, in darkness and storm, beaten by the wind, drenched with spray, lightnings blazing and thunders crashing about him, shouting to the men to cut the mast away!" Here the organ and choir broke forth in glad acclaim, and the procession came winding in from the sacristy. Cloth of gold and cloth of silver, lace and fine linen and crimson and purple all combined, gave the effect of a many jewelled band coiled about the sanctuary. Attending alternately to the altar and the choir, Mr. Andrew tried to believe it all a vain pageant; but thoughts will enter, though the doors be shut. What a stupendous thing, he thought, if the Real Presence were true; if, as this girl said, God had a Son, and He should come down this morning and stand in the midst of the candles! For one instant he was dazzled and confounded by the possibility; and next, he recoiled from it. 66 Gloria in excelsis," sang the choir with organ and orchestra in many an involved and thrilling strain, a pure melody springing up here and there from the midst, voice and instrument meeting and parting, catching the tone from each other, swelling till the vaulted roof of the cathedral rang, fading again, drooping away one after another, till there was left but a many-toned sigh of instruments, and one voice hanging far aloft, with a silvery flutter, upon a trill, like a humming-bird, sucking the sweetness from that flower of sound. A pause of palpitating silence, then an amen that set swinging the myrtle vines hanging over the St. Cecilia in front of the organ, and made the pennons of blue and scarlet, that hung about the altar, wave on their standards. Contrary to custom, there was to be a sermon at that Mass, and, as the preacher ascended the pulpit, Mr. Andrew said to himself: "If Christ was the son of God, He is on that altar; and if He is there, I wish He would speak to me by this man." He hoped to hear an argument to prove the Divinity of Christ, not aware that his reason. had already been pampered with such, until it had grown insolent. The speaker, however, handled his subject quite otherwise. Assuming that Divinity, he took for his theme, "What thoughts should fill the mind, what sentiments dilate the heart," on the Feast of the Nativity ? Calling up before them, then, in a few words, a picture of that scene at once so humble and so marvellous, and pointing to the mysterious Babe, he boldly announced on the threshold of his discourse the difficulties connected with the dogma for which he demanded their homage: "This Babe is a creature like you and me: this Babe is the Creator of all contingent being. This Babe is just born; this Babe is from all eternity. This Babe is contained in the manger; this Babe pervades all space. It suffers hear its cries! It enjoys bliss beyond power of augmentation. It is poor: see the swaddling clothes! To it belong the treasures of the universe. Here present are husband and wife; yet I am required to believe that the Holy Spirit overshadowed her, a virgin conceived, a virgin bore a Son." Not Ulysses' arrow flew through the rings with surer, swifter aim, than these words through the winding doubts that had bound that listener's heart. It was too sublime not to be true! Almost the triumphant paradox - I believe because it is impossible-broke from his lips. The human mind was incapable of inventing a falsity so glorious. In that tumult of feeling he lost what came next; but, listening again, heard: "If I must bow down and worship, I elect Him as the object of my adoration Whose dwelling is in light inaccessible, Who is inscrutable in His nature, and incomprehensible in His works.' "Amen!" said Basil Andrew. "A virgin conceived, a virgin bore a Son," repeated itself again and again in his thoughts. All the singing of voices and the playing of instruments were because of that; all the splendor of the Festival, the gathering of the crowd in the midst of the winter night, were for that. "O sweetest and most glorious mother in all the universe!" he thought, bowing where it is, perhaps, most difficult for a convert to render homage. 66 Clouds are unsubstantial things for anything but rainbows to stand on, and even they find but vanishing foothold. Had this delight warmed Basil Andrew's imagination only, it would have faded with the moment; but thought and study had done their part, and this uprising of the heart was Pygmalion's kiss to his statue. The feeling with which he turned to leave the cathedral was one of thankful content with perfected work. Pausing in the porch for the crowd to pass, he looked back with a tender fear toward the altar. 65 Poor Madeleine's religion was iris and the cloud. She had known well what was going on in her companion's mind, and, as she stood waiting with him, a text went sighing through her memory like a sighing wind. I say unto you that the kingdom of God shall be taken from you, and shall be given to a nation yielding the fruits thereof." While she, a child of the Church, had given it a fitful obedience more insulting than consistent disregard, this man had toiled every step of the way from a far-off heresy, and, passing by her as she loitered outside, had walked into the very penetralia. She stood looking gloomily out into the morning that was one cloudless glow of pale gold. "The air has crystallized since we came in," she said, "and we are shut inside a great gem, like flies in amber. We will have to stay here. forever." He bent a smiling face toward her as they went out into the morning, and said softly: "How beautiful are thy steps, O Prince's daughter! You were right, Madeleine!" M. A. TINCKER, in Merry England. The Rich Glutton and Lazarus. "THERE was a certain rich man, who was clothed in purple and fine linen, and feasted sumptuously every day." (Luke xvi. 19.) Observe the vices which follow in the train of riches, pride in dress, riot in feasting, and contempt of the poor. Divest yourself then of every desire of riches; "for they who would become rich fall into temptation and into the snare of the Devil." (1 Tim. vi. 9.) 66 "The rich man died, and was buried in hell." How wretched a termination of a life so agreeable! Such, however, is the general case of those whose riches are only employed in procuring pleasures. They spend their days in wealth, and in a moment they go down to hell." (Job xxi. 13.) Ponder the torments of this once rich man; instead of purple and silk, he is invested with flames; instead of delicious fare, he is tormented with intolerable thirst; he who contemned the poor man is now, in his turn, contemned by him; he who denied the crumbs of his table, is now refused a drop of water. Thus God's punishments are proportionate to our offences. "The mighty," says the Wise Man, "shall be mightily tormented." (Wis. vi. 7.) Consider the just judgments of God. The rich man is not heard in his torments, because he refused to be merciful to the poor during the short day of his prosperity. Therefore, when he begged for a drop of cold water, he was answered: "Remember that thou didst receive good things in thy lifetime." As if it were unlawful to receive good things here and there too. And so it is, "for they who will live piously in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." (2 Tim. iii. 12.) Do not, therefore, be too fond of prosperity in this life, lest you lose eternal happiness in the next. "For through many tribulations, we must enter into the kingdom of God." (Acts xiv. 21.) Monument to the Memory of Father Mathew. GRAND MORAL DEMONSTRATION:-FATHER CONATY'S ORATION. OCTOBER IO was a memorable day in the city of Salem. Never in its history has it seen such a demonstration. Work of nearly every kind was suspended and crowds thronged the streets. The laborer left his work and donned his Sunday clothes. His wife forgot that it was washing day, and the scrub-board and tub remained in their accustomed places. The baby was not forgotten. It appeared dressed in its spotless white raiment, with a still whiter cap adorning its little head. The pretty girls of Salem bedecked themselves in their silks and satins, and made of the day a grand event, only such as the "girls" are capable of making. They turned out in numbers that would be hard to estimate. Father Mathew was honored not alone by the people of Salem, however, for nearly every city in the county was represented by those who were glad to do honor to this apostle of temperance. The day was the anniversary of his birthday, and a fitting tribute to his work, as a faithful apostle of temperance, was paid him in the unveiling of a monument erected to him by his loving disciples. For some time the Young Men's Society, and the Father Mathew Total Abstinence Society, of Salem, have been raising subscriptions for the purpose of erecting, in the heart of that city, a monument that should not only stand as a memento of their regard for him, but which should also serve as a help in the promotion of the cause for which they have so much affection. Thus it was that in Central Square was erected a cold water fountain, surmounted by a representation in stone of the noble Father. The total abstinence societies from all around were enthusiastic in the carrying out of these plans, and they gathered in Salem. Many of the societies from Boston assembled in Park Square between eight and nine o'clock in the morning, and made their way through Boylston, Washington, Court, Green and Causeway Streets to the Eastern Division of the Boston & Maine Railroad, where a special train was taken at 9.45 for the scene of the ceremony. At the depot in Boston those societies from the Hub were joined by the Charlestown division. Christopher J. Fay acted as chief marshal of the Suffolk County division, which comprises all the societies of the county. The Eastern Division of the Boston & Maine depot was never packed before as it was in the morning when the special train of eighteen cars from Boston arrived. Delegations from the societies of Salem were on hand to welcome their brethren from the " Hub," Charlestown, Somerville, Cambridge, Lawrence, Lowell, Lynn, and other places. The committees appointed on decoration were busy the latter part of last week, and the result of their labors was a showing of buntings, flags, festoons, draperies, and streamers, such as is only beheld on a day of great celebration. Residences, stores and business places of |