dren, and
also of those who were not children, as they examined their gifts was most
amusing. I, for my part, received among other things the following:--Sundry
articles got up by the family fingers; a little box, covered with beads,
for holding lucifer-matches; a German toy, meant to be instructive; a long
chain in beads, intended for the decoration of a pipe. This pipe was in
sugar, and was accompanied by a note in verse. The note I still have, but
the pipe melted away in the damp of winter. I never could ascertain to
whom I was indebted for this gift.

A little later, evening worship was celebrated, and then we supped. Long
that night, after I had laid my head on my pillow, was I kept awake by the
thoughts raised by the kind, hearty, and genial character of those with
whom I had passed the evening, and of the good, old-fashioned, hearty
ceremony in which I had participated.

Many a merry Christmas to these my friends!

THE MIRACLE OF LIFE.

Of all Miracles, the most wonderful is that of Life--the common, daily life
which we carry about with us, and which every where surrounds us. The sun
and stars, the blue firmament, day and night, the tides and seasons, are
as nothing compared with it. Life--the soul of the world, but for which
creation were not!

It is our daily familiarity with Life, which obscures its wonders from us.
We live, yet remember it not. Other wonders attract our attention, and
excite our surprise; but this, the great wonder of the world, which
includes all others, is little regarded. We have grown up alongside of
Life, with Life within us and about us; and there is never any point in
our existence, at which its phenomena arrest our curiosity and attention.
The miracle is hid from us by familiarity, and we see it not.

Fancy the earth without Life!--its skeleton ribs of rock and mountain
unclothed by verdure, without soil, without flesh! What a naked, desolate
spectacle,--and how unlike the beautiful aspect of external nature in all
lands! Nature, ever-varied and ever-changing--coming with the spring, and
going to sleep with the winter--in constant rotation. The flower springs
up, blooms, withers, and falls, returning to the earth from whence it
sprung, leaving behind it the germs of future being; for nothing dies; not
even Life, which only gives up one form to assume another. Organization is
traveling in an unending circle.

The trees in summer put on their verdure; they blossom; thei