e thought smote him: Perhaps there some little children went to bed
hungry to-night. He went home sadly, and, sitting down, he said:--

"Let me see! Soup, entrees, joints, sweets, fruits, wine, coffee. Let me
see! White roses, azaleas, chrysanthemums. Let me see! Waldteufel,
Strauss, Wagner! Let me see!"

He went over, and opened what appeared to be a rather highly decorated
cupboard. He drew back three shutters, and revealed a triptych, sunk
deep in the wall of his little parlor. It was the only thing of real
value he held. It was given to him by a Roman lady, who, for one reason
or another, chose to reside in England. It nearly filled the entire
space on the low wall. As he drew back the shutters, the lamplight fell
on the figure that occupied the whole of the central panel. It was the
Christ. The tall shape was closely wrapped around in the Jewish
kethoneth,--the first of the _vestes albae_ of the priest, as St. John
represents in the Apocalypse. The capouche fell loosely over His head,
and was embroidered in many colors, as was also the hem of His long
white robe, which fell in folds over His sandalled feet. The hood of the
capouche shaded His eyes and threw a dark shadow on the face as far as
the lips. But the sacred figure also held its right hand to shelter the
eyes more deeply from a strong glare of sunset. The left hand fell
loosely by His side, and the first of a large flock of sheep had nestled
its head comfortably in the open palm. The large, gray eyes of Christ
were filled with an anxious light, as they gazed over the silent desert,
questing for some lost object; and the mouth, lightly fringed with
beard, was querulous with pain and solicitude. It was a beautiful
picture,--one worthy to be screened from indevout eyes, or revealed only
to those who loved and worshipped.

The young priest gazed long and lovingly at this presentment of his
Divine Master, whom he loved with the strongest personal affection.
Then he knelt down and pressed his forehead against the dust-stained
feet of Christ, and moaned:--

"Master, if I have done wrong in aught this night, let me know it! If I
have betrayed Thy interests, or brought Thy Name to shame, teach me in
the sharpest tones and flames of Thy anger, for I need a monitor; and
where shall I find so loving or so truthful a monitor as Thou? Alas! how
weak and pitiful I am, and how this poor unsubdued nature of mine craves
for things beyond Thee! I know there is no truth bu