raught life could give her, 'It's very cold,
but soon I shall not feel it;' and with her quiet eyes fixed on the
cross that glimmered in the moonlight above me, she lay waiting for
the sleep that needs no lullaby.

"As the clock struck eleven, pain and poverty for her were over. It
was bitter cold, but she no longer felt it. She lay serenely sleeping,
with tired heart and hands, at rest forever. As the clocks struck
twelve, the dear Lord remembered her, and with fatherly hand led her
into the home where there is room for all. To-day I rung her knell,
and though my heart was heavy, yet my soul was glad; for in spite of
all her human woe and weakness, I am sure that little girl will keep a
joyful Christmas up in heaven."

In the silence which the spirits for a moment kept, a breath of softer
air than any from the snowy world below swept through the steeple and
seemed to whisper, "Yes!"

"Avast there! fond as I am of salt water, I don't like this kind,"
cried the breezy voice of the fourth spirit, who had a tiny ship
instead of a tassel on his cap, and who wiped his wet eyes with the
sleeve of his rough blue cloak. "It won't take me long to spin my
yarn; for things are pretty taut and ship-shape aboard our craft.
Captain Taylor is an experienced sailor, and has brought many a ship
safely into port in spite of wind and tide, and the devil's own
whirlpools and hurricanes. If you want to see earnestness come aboard
some Sunday when the Captain's on the quarter-deck, and take an
observation. No danger of falling asleep there, no more than there is
up aloft, 'when the stormy winds do blow.' Consciences get raked fore
and aft, sins are blown clean out of the water, false colors are
hauled down and true ones run up to the masthead, and many an immortal
soul is warned to steer off in time from the pirates, rocks and
quicksands of temptation. He's a regular revolving light, is the
Captain,--a beacon always burning and saying plainly, 'Here are
life-boats, ready to put off in all weathers and bring the shipwrecked
into quiet waters.' He comes but seldom now, being laid up in the home
dock, tranquilly waiting till his turn comes to go out with the tide
and safely ride at anchor in the great harbor of the Lord. Our crew
varies a good deal. Some of 'em have rather rough voyages, and come
into port pretty well battered; land-sharks fall foul of a good many,
and do a deal of damage; but most of 'em carry brave and tender hearts
under