2. The star was so beautiful, large, and clear, That all the other stars of the sky Became a white mist in the atmosphere,

And by this they knew that the coming was near Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy.

3. Three caskets they bore on their saddle-bows,
Three caskets of gold with golden keys;
Their robes were of crimson silk, with rows
Of bells and pomegranates and furbelows,

Their turbans like blossoming almond-trees.

4. And so the Three Kings rode into the West,

Through the dusk of night, over hill and dell, And sometimes they nodded with beard on breast, And sometimes talked, as they paused to rest, With the people they met at some wayside well.

5. "Of the child that is born," said Baltazar,
"Good people, I pray you, tell us the news,
For we in the East have seen his star,
And have ridden fast, and have ridden far,
To find and worship the King of the Jews."

6. And the people answered, "You ask in vain ;
We know of no king but Herod the Great!"
They thought the Wise Men were men insane,
As they spurred their horses across the plain
Like riders in haste who cannot wait.

7. And when they came to Jerusalem,

Herod the Great, who had heard this thing, Sent for the wise men and questioned them; And said, "Go down into Bethlehem,

And bring me tidings of this new king."

8. So they rode away; and the star stood still,
The only one in the gray of morn;

Yes, it stopped, it stood still of its own free will,
Right over Bethlehem on the hill,

The City of David, where Christ was born.

9. And the Three Kings rode through the gate and the guard,

Through the silent street, till their horses turned
And neighed as they entered the great inn-yard;
But the windows were closed, and the doors were
barred,

And only a light in the stable burned.

10. And cradled there in the scented hay,

In the air made sweet by the breath of kine,
The little child in the manger lay,—

The child that would be king one day
Of a kingdom not human, but divine.

11. His mother, Mary of Nazareth,

Sat watching beside his place of rest,
Watching the even flow of his breath,
For the joy of life and the terror of death
Were mingled together in her breast.

12. They laid their offerings at his feet;

The gold was their tribute to a king;
The frankincense, with its odor sweet,
Was for the priest, the Paraclete,

The myrrh for the body's burying.

13. And the mother wondered and bowed her head,
And sat as still as a statue of stone;
Her heart was troubled, yet comforted,
Remembering what the Angel had said

Of an endless reign and of David's throne.

14. Then the kings rode out of the city gate,
With the clatter of hoofs, in proud array;
But they went not back to Herod the Great,
For they knew his malice and feared his hate,

And returned to their homes by another way.

15. "One more paper, and a short one," said the teacher, addressing the young people who were present, "and we have done with our Christmas selections. Those of you who are studying Roman history know that at the period which marks the close of the Roman Republic, when Octavius Cæsar had become sole master of the Roman world, universal peace prevailed, and that the heathen temple of Janus, which was always opened in time of war and closed in peace, was then closed, for the third time since the founding of Rome.

16. "It was at this auspicious period that Jesus Christ, the promised Messiah, was born, and thus, literally, was his advent the herald of 'peace on earth, and good will toward men.' The occurrence of universal peace at this important epoch is thus alluded to by England's great epic poet:

VII.-Hymn of the Nativity.

"No war, or battle's sound,

Was heard the world around;

The idle spear and shield were high uphung;
The hooked chariot stood

Unstained with hostile blood;

The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
And kings sat still with awful eye,

As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by."

Milton.

CHAPTER XIV.-OUR FRENCH ACQUAINTANCE AGAIN.

I-A Frequent Visitor.

1. Our philosophical Frenchman had become a frequent visitor at the Hall, and Uncle Philip was always pleased to send the carriage for him whenever the old gentleman was inclined to pay us a visit. One day, after bearing him an invitation to visit us, I asked him if it would be agreeable to him to bring his diary and read to us extracts from it. 2. "It will be adding pleasure to pleasure for me to do so," he replied, in his polite manner. "I shall be happy to find that these trifling records, made by an old man, are of any interest to my young friends at the Hall."

3. Father Bardou, as we had fallen into the habit of addressing him, was always gratified to have the young people present when he read from his diary, and it seemed to interest him much to listen to the remarks which his written meditations called forth. During the visit of which I have here spoken, he said he would begin his reading where his diary again referred to his friend Roger, whom he had already casually introduced to us.

II. The Diary.-The World a Theatre."

1. "The day after Roger's visit, I seated myself at the window to observe the passers-by. This, to me, is one of the most charming amusements of old age. The crowd which glides before my eyes awakens in me endless memories, and inspires innumerable fancies and sympathies.

a On what resemblance is based the figure of speech-"The world a theatre"?-See the like figure from Shakspeare-"The world's a stage," etc.

2. "Sometimes I am struck by a resemblance, which brings back a whole poem of my youth; sometimes there are contrasts which fill me with profound and sombre thoughts; or again, it is an expression of the features, a word caught, a significant movement of the body, which suggests to my mind a rapid romance, the characters of which disappear almost instantaneously, leaving my imagination free to trace out the final results.

3. "Leaning over my balcony, I am like a spectator in the back seats at a pantomime, to whom the plot has not been revealed; my theatre is the world, my play is human life itself. There is not one of those passers-by who has not some hidden joy or sorrow, the reflection of which is dimly visible in his countenance,-some secret passion, which he strives to bury in the folds of his cloak.

4. "I proceed thus far in my reflections, when dark clouds, driven by the south wind, approach. It begins to rain; and the people are hurrying to their houses. This is the interlude in the play which I am following with so much interest. I shut down my window, and turn to my writing-desk. An atlas lies open upon it; I sit down, and begin to turn over the leaves.

5. "The amusement is here of a different kind. Just before, I was at the theatre; now I am on my travels. In order to perceive all that an atlas contains, it is necessary to have wandered through some beautiful country, with no other object in view than that of observing and feeling. The impressions thus gained are fixed, though without order, like the leaves of a book irregularly sewn together.

6. "Take up now a map on which are traced the outlines of the country you have visited, the situation of each town, the longitudes and distances; the chaos of impressions falls at once into order, and you begin to read from your memory without confusion, errors, or forgetfulness. And where others perceive only colored lines, to you