welcome task, and a calm delight fills
their hearts, as they remember Him who assumed mortality, and passed
the ordeal of earthly life, that he might be, in all things, like unto
mankind. Blessed be this thought, ye joyous ones, and if after-years
shall bring sorrow or bitterness, ye may remember that the Holiest has
trod that path before, and that deeper sorrow than mortality can
suffer, once rested upon his guiltless head.

Christmas is coming! is the thought of the aged, and memory goes back
to the joys of other years, when the pulses of life beat full and
free, and their keen sensibilities were awake to the perception of the
beautiful. Now the dim eye can no longer enjoy the full realization of
beauty, and the ear is deaf to the melodies of Nature, but they can
drink from the fountain of memory, and while looking upon the mirth of
the youthful, recollect that once they, too, were light-hearted and
joyous. Blessed to them is the approaching festival, and as they
celebrate the birth of the Redeemer, they may remember that He bore
the trials of life without a murmur, and laid down in the lone grave,
to ensure the resurrection of the believer, while faith points to the
hour when they shall inherit the glory prepared for them by His
mission of suffering.

Christmas is coming! shouted we, the school-girls of Monteparaiso
Seminary, as we rushed from the school-room, in glad anticipation, of
the holydays. How gladly we laid down the books over which we had been
poring, vainly endeavoring to fix our minds upon their pages, and
gathered in various groups to plan amusements for the coming festival.
One week only, and the day would come, the pleasures of which we had
been anticipating for months. Our stockings must be hung up on
Christmas Eve, though the pleasure was sadly marred because each of us
must, in our turn, represent the good Santa-Claus, and contribute to
the stockings of our schoolmates, instead of going quietly to bed, and
finding them filled on Christmas morning by the good saint, or some of
his representatives. How eagerly we watched the Hudson each morning,
to see if its waves remained unfettered by ice, not only because the
daily arrival of the steamboat from New York was an era in our
un-eventful lives, but there were many of our number whose parents or
friends resided in the city, from whom they expected visits or
presents. We were like a prisoned sisterhood, yet we did not pine in
our solitude, for there