THE HOLY NIGHT.
It was so still a night—
So calm and still!
And watching stars, far in the silent sky,
Shone tenderly
Upon the quiet world asleep and chill,
And lying breathless in the frozen light.
O earth, unconscious earth!
Serene that hour
As the untroubled heart of the sweet maid
Who now hath laid
Her little Child to rest—her Child whose power
Hath bid e'en soulless things proclaim His birth.
Yet silent lies He now,
And asketh naught,
This sweetest One, but on His mother's breast
He findeth rest.
And of her tender smiling (sorrow-bought)
The still light falleth on His sleeping brow.
"My Own!" she whispers low,
And then her ear
Hath caught the angel anthem from above,
Where the Blest Dove
Forever broodeth, and she waits to hear
The song of peace re-echoed o'er the snow.
And yet the Babe doth sleep;
And does He dream
How, in the golden Christmases to come,
Through each fair house
That self-same song of peace, while tapers gleam,
Shall sound, as now it soundeth, strong and deep.
For happy childhood bears
Forevermore
His seal upon its brow, and childhood's voice
Shall e'er rejoice
At this glad time, when the Redeemer wore
Its poverty, its feebleness, and tears.
And every human heart
Shall tender grow
And very humble, if a child but speak,
That seemeth weak,
But still is strong in Him who would forego
Through strength of love all things that joy impart.
We praise Thee, O Thou King
Thou Holy One!
We praise Thee for our childhood, and we praise
Through all our days
This festival of peace and good-will shown
To man, while evermore the angels sing.
Helen Grace Smith.
JOE:
A STORY OF FRONTIER LIFE.
In the early days when stage coaching formed a prominent feature of frontier existence, "The Pioneer Home" was one of the most popular of the Sierra stations. This was not due to its dimensions, nor to its architectural advantages, nor to the accommodations it offered, for it was nothing more than a roughly though substantially built, comfortable-looking log-cabin. But standing as it did on the main street of Nevada City, it would have invited observation on account of its neatly kept, old-fashioned garden of hollyhocks, marigolds, and gilly-flowers, even if a swinging black sign-board had not designated it in glaring red letters as a place of "Entertainment for Man and Beast."
It was Nathaniel Parkenson who, with the aid of his wife, rendered this depot attractive both within and without. When news of the discovery of gold in California reached there, this enterprising couple were among the first to venture from their home in Connecticut. Bent on seeking a fortune in the new El Dorado, they crossed the plains and joined an established mining camp. But their hardships were by no means terminated when their journey came to an end. Nathaniel found working the pick and shovel far more laborious than he had anticipated, and the privations and exposure of camp-life soon began to tell upon his health.
As for Mrs. Parkenson, able-bodied and capable of work though she was, she soon determined in her mind that more congenial occupation and surroundings would have to be sought. Many a plan suggested itself to her, but none formulated to her satisfaction until the coarse canvas bag in which her husband's earnings had been concealed and regularly added to through many months began to evince a state of plethora. Then she felt that the time had come when silence ceased to be golden.