Bolax, Imp or Angel—Which?

CHAPTER X.

Christmas and "Little Christmas" or King's Day.

Christmas Eve had come and the children were at last asleep, dreaming of the pleasures in store for them on the morrow. Mrs. Allen and her sister sat by the fire completing a handsome smoking robe for Mr. Allen.

The clock struck twelve, in soft, silvery chimes as the robe was folded and tied on the tree.

Miss Lucy drew aside the curtain to look out upon the night. The snow had ceased falling, and now lay in feathery drifts on the silent village like a pure white veil, tracing graceful patterns among the dark trees on the hill-side, While the stars above had the brilliancy of extreme cold.

"Hark! What was that?" said Mrs. Allen. "Surely not our bell at midnight? Let us call Dick; I'm afraid to open the door."

Mr. Dick and Hetty came running down and turned on the electric light. To the astonishment of all, on the porch stood a young woman with an infant in her arms. Mrs. Allen brought her in, asking no questions, for the poor creature was speechless with cold. Lucy took the baby, it opened its eyes and smiled, seeming very comfortable. Hetty gave the woman a hot drink, and Mrs. Allen took off her wet shoes and clothing, and gave her a warm foot-bath, then she was wrapped in a blanket and made to lie down on the sofa before the fire. The poor soul was so exhausted she fell into a profound sleep.

The good people then began to realize what they were doing, to ask themselves how the woman could have selected their house for a shelter. "Oh, let us thank our Lord," said Mrs. Allen. "He has given us the privilege of harboring the harborless." "Mrs. Allen," remarked Hetty, "dis is just like dat verse you done teached Miss Amy: 'To shelter de Holy wanderers on dat blessed Christmas night.' Don't you know, at fust, I thought it was the Holy Virgin and little Jesus. Well, I say it's for luck dat baby's come to dis house."

"Lucy," said Mrs. Allen, "you had better go to bed; that you may be able to get up in the morning to take the children to Mass. It is absolutely necessary one of us should remain home to care for our unexpected guests."

At five o'clock in the morning, Pat came into the kitchen to say the sleigh was ready if the folks were going to early Mass. "Turn your back and shut you' eyes," called out Hetty. Pat, supposing she had a Christmas gift for him, did as he was bid.

"Is you' eyes tight shut, Pat?" "Faith and they couldn't be tighter, but hurry up, the folks'll be wantin' the sleigh in a minute." Hetty took the sleeping babe and laid it in the old man's arms, then told him to look. Pat stared in utter surprise, his eyes and mouth wide open. Hetty stood laughing at his discomfiture, when he could speak, he exclaimed: "Holy saints! where did this come from?"

"De Christ-child sent it twelve o'clock last night." "May the Lord bless us," said Pat, "but it's a quare thing entirely yees are telling me. Here, take the darlint; I must be gettin' off or we'll be late for Mass."

Mrs. Allen called the children before five o'clock, bidding them hurry downstairs, as she had a surprise for them. Hetty carried the babe into the library and laid it on the table under the electric light, its eyes were open, but it lay perfectly still.

As the children caught sight of the little figure they were transfixed with astonishment. Amy made the sign of the cross; for the moment she thought only of the Infant Jesus, then examining closer, she saw it was a real live baby. "Of course," said she, "I might have known the Infant Jesus would not come to us, we are not holy enough." Bolax kissed the little thing, saying "Isn't it a dear! Mamma, are you going to keep it?"

"Come, now," called Aunt Lucy, "we must not be late for Mass; when we get home we will hear all about the wonderful baby." On the way to church, Aunty explained how it came that the poor mother was in the house, and no doubt would be able to tell why she sought shelter under their roof.

"Well," exclaimed Pat, "may God bless yees all for the most warm-hearted family I ever met. None of yees will ever be in want of a roof to cover you, for surely the dear Infant Jesus will not forget your many great acts of Charity."

At seven o'clock Hetty took some breakfast up to the woman, and brought her baby to be nursed. She seemed greatly refreshed and said she was able to get up. "Don't you stir, honey," said Hetty, "unless you is real able, if you is, Mrs. Allen wants to see you in de library." Having dressed herself and attended to her baby's wants, Hetty took her downstairs.

Mrs. Allen asked the woman's name and questioned as to the reason for selecting this house in which to take refuge.

"Indeed, ma'am, I'll tell you how it was, but first let me thank you; sure it's no wonder the station-man spoke so highly of your charity." "Say nothing about that; I only wish I had it in my power to do more." "Well," continued the woman, "my name is Mary Ryan. My husband was killed a month ago; he fell off a scaffolding while painting a house. I stayed with his people after his death, but they soon let me see I wasn't welcome, so I went to an intelligence office to look for a place. The man made me pay him a dollar, then he gave me the address of a Mrs. Clarkson out here near the station. He said they especially wanted a woman with a child because such are willing to stay in the country.

"I paid my fare out and got here at three o'clock, it was daylight then, and I hunted high and low for Mrs. Clarkson, but no one had ever heard of such a person. I didn't know where to go, so I remained in the station as it was snowing hard. The watchman was so kind. He gave me a sandwich and asked me if I had nowhere to stop for the night. I told him just how it was with me. He said: 'A friend of mine just happens to be outside with his sleigh and I'll tell him to take you where you'll be well treated.'

"I didn't know but what it was a lodging house he was taking me to; when he came to your gate he just put me on the boardwalk and told me to go up to the door."

"Well, Mary, you are welcome, poor child; we will do what we can for you. Have you a valise?" "Yes, ma'am; the man at the station has care of it." "I will send our man for it as soon as the sleigh comes back." "Oh, God bless you ma'am!" "Don't say any more, dear; your name is Mary; you and your child were in need of shelter, like the divine Mother Mary. I consider it a privilege to be allowed to share the comforts our Lord has given me with any one in need."

"Go to Hetty now, she will take care of you. I know of just a place that will suit you, and in a few days when the roads are somewhat better, I will take you there."

In the excitement about the baby, the children forgot to look at their presents early in the day, but after Mass all were eager to see what old Santa had brought them. Amy received several gifts she had been longing for. Bolax got what he prized more than anything, viz:—a whole set of Father Finn's books.

The Christmas dinner was indeed a mirthful one. All the love gifts, as Mrs. Allen called those that were made expressly for each member of the family, had been placed on the tree behind the ornaments. Mr. Allen entered into the spirit of the evening, saying he would act the wizard's part, and by means of long wand detached the various treasures from the tree and gave them to their owners, whose names they bore.

Great was the delight of the children, when after a hard tussle to detach a large bundle, down it came on Mr. Allen's head. It proved to be a beautiful smoking robe, which had been made and embroidered by Mrs. Allen, Lucy and little Amy.

The good man was so charmed that he declared he would not use his wand again until he had full five minutes to admire it. Amy received a lovely pair of bed-room slippers, the work of Aunt Lucy; Mrs. Allen, a sofa cushion made by her sister in New York; Aunt Lucy, a blue silk waist, embroidered in white roses. Uncle Dick, a smoking cap, made by Mrs. Allen; Bolax, a pair of silk and woolen mitts, knit by Aunt Lucy. Bo gave Hetty a work box, which he made with his tools, and Amy, a needlebook, on which she had embroidered, "Hetty, dear." Pat too, received a little "love gift," but both faithful domestics had had a substantial present from the "Master."

Mr. Allen put on his robe and cap to please the children, strutting up and down the library floor, saying he was sure he resembled a Chinese Mandarin in his gorgeous robe. Now let us end the day with some of your spirited Yule-tide airs: "Strike the Harp" and "With Glory Lit the Midnight Air." Every one sang with hearty good will to the accompaniment of piano and violin.

That night when the family sought their pillows, all felt that they had passed a very happy and holy Christmas.

January Sixth.

Bolax ran into the library covered with snow, his two dogs with him making a pretty mess on the rugs. Mamma called out: "Look at the condition of your boots, child." Hetty happened to be on hand with the broom. "Dat's easy cleaned up," said she. "Bo don't think sometimes, but his heart is in de right place after all," which "after all" was known to refer to a spirit of fun and a tendency to mischief such as most lively boys possess.

"Does anyone remember that tomorrow is my birthday?" exclaimed Bolax. "Whew," echoed Uncle Dick, "is that a fact? What will be the number of your years tomorrow?" "Eleven. Hetty has made me a splendid cake, but I'm not to have a party because Papa is not well." "Oh, but you're going to have your chums," observed Amy. "Yes, our jolly seven will be here, and Hetty says that enormous cake must be eaten at one sitting." "You have made a mistake, brother, that very large cake is for the crippled children in St. Luke's Hospital; there are eighteen of them in the ward and we are to take it there ourselves and divide it." "That's so, I had almost forgotten about the poor children. We had better go there early in the morning and have the afternoon for our company."

"Children," said Uncle Dick, "Would you like to hear the story of the first time a cake was cut on King's Day?" "Yes, yes, let us have it please," exclaimed both at once.

Uncle Dick's Story.

The three Wise men, Balthazar, Melchior and Gaspard, were kings, living in countries widely separated; yet each one saw a wonderful brilliant star, such as had never before appeared, and a heavenly messenger told them to follow this star, that it would lead them to a new-born king, who was to be greater than all the rulers of the earth. So the wise men or Magi set out bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, which they were to give to the wonderful child, whose star they had seen in the "East."

They had traveled such a long time and were tired sitting on their camels, so they came to a halt near a dense forest. It had been raining for several hours and now the sound of distant thunder and the fury of the wind warned them to seek shelter for the night. Their followers took refuge in a cave and refused to go a step further; so the kings were compelled to continue their journey alone. After walking for a long time almost famished with cold and wet to the skin, they came to a little village and determined to ask hospitality at the first house they saw. This house, or I should say hut, was situated at the entrance of the forest, and belonged to a poor woodcutter named Japhet.

The kings knocked very loudly, Japhet and his wife opened the door, wondering who could want them at such a late hour. Our distinguished travelers begged a shelter from the storm and some food. The woodcutter was startled when he saw such grand people, and hesitated about letting them into his cabin, big Melchior, however, settled the question by pushing back the door, then all entered.

"Now," said Gaspard, "do give us some supper and a place to rest, we will pay well." "Alas! honored, Sirs," answered Japhet. "I have but one bed, and as for supper, we have nothing to offer but black bread and water. But, we will do the best we can to make you comfortable for the night."

So the tired out kings sat down and were glad enough to eat of the black bread, and satisfy their thirst with water. Japhet then made a big fire and the kings having dried their clothes, laid themselves upon the clean straw bed, which the good wife had made for them.

When morning light shone through the chinks of the cabin wall, the kings arose and prepared to continue their journey. Balthazar, who was the most generous, said: "My good people I want to give you something in return for your hospitality." "Oh, never mind," said Japhet. "The little we had, we gave with a good heart, but we did not expect anything in return." At the same time the poor fellow held out his hand.

"I have no money," explained Balthazar, "but I will leave you a souvenir, which will be of infinitely more value." Saying this, he searched in his pocket, drew out a little flute, and presented it to Japhet, who received it with a look of disappointment on his face.

"You see," continued Balthazar, "if you make a wish while playing a tune, it will be immediately granted. Take the flute; do not abuse its gifts, and above all never refuse a shelter or food to the poor wayfarer."

As soon as the three kings had left the hut, Japhet said to his wife: "Well, it seems to me, such rich-looking people could have given us something better than a toy, nevertheless I will try its power; should not wonder though, if those fine gentlemen were not mocking us when they gave such a fool's present."

"Oh, try it just once," said his wife. Japhet then played a lively tune, at the same time wishing for a venison steak and some white bread. Great was the astonishment and delight of the poor people when they saw on their table all they had asked for.

When Japhet was certain of the power of the flute he did not stop at necessities, as you may well believe, he asked for all sorts of things; indeed he kept the flute going from morning until night.

He got new clothes for himself and his wife; had the best of food to eat, and, as all he had to do was to wish for a thing to have it, he became the richest man in the country. He fluted for a magnificent palace, which took the place of his poor cabin; again he fluted and the palace was filled with fine furniture, pictures, statuary and luxuries of all descriptions.

When everything was complete he gave a grand dinner, inviting all the rich people of the neighborhood. Every invitation was accepted, for no one remembered the poor woodcutter, who was now the mighty Lord Flutandget.

In the dining hall the table was set with the finest service of gold, and cut glass reflected the light from hundreds of perfumed lamps. A band of musicians sat behind a bower of exquisite flowers, playing soft, sweet tunes.

When all was ready, the guests sat down to a feast, the like of which had never been seen in the whole Kingdom. Lord Flutandget was in the height of his glory, and looked as proud as if he owned the whole world.

His wife sat beside him, feeling very ill at ease in her stiff silk, and scarcely able to move her hands for the rings, with which her fingers were laden.

So that the feast should not be disturbed, the lackeys had been ordered to keep all intruders off the place. Besides this, my Lord Flutandget had two fierce dogs chained on either side of the gate to keep off beggars.

The guests and their host gave themselves up to the full enjoyment of the feast. All were loud in their praises of My Lord and his Lady, complimenting them on their lavish entertainment, wishing them long continuance of health, prosperity, etc.

Well, this very evening the three Kings happened to be returning to their own country, after having paid homage to the Infant Christ. When they came near the village by the forest, they saw a splendid castle where formerly stood the woodcutter's hut.

"Ah, ha!" said Gaspard to Balthazar, "I should not be surprised if our old friend has not made bad use of your little flute. I wonder if he has kept his promise, and is kind to the poor, now that he is so rich."

"Well, let us try him," said Balthazar. So disguising themselves as beggars, they went to the gate of the castle, asking for a little food. The porter bade them "begone," but as they insisted on being allowed to enter, the servants made such a clamor, that Lord Flutandget put his head out of the window to see what was the trouble. Seeing the beggars, he ordered the dogs to be set on them, so the poor Kings were obliged to fly in a very unkingly manner.

"I told you so," said Gaspard, whom one of the dogs had caught by the shins. "I'll fix him," said the giant, Melchior. "I'll make him feel the vengeance of the three Kings."

In the meantime the guests continued to feast. Dessert had just been served; my Lord Flutandget held in his hand a broad silver knife, with which he was about to cut an enormous cake, each guest was to have had a slice to take home. Just then the noise of carriage wheels was heard; my Lord Flutandget looked towards the window, and seeing a grand carriage drawn by six white horses, he supposed it was some of the high and mighty guests he had invited, so he went himself to meet them.

The three Kings entered in regal attire, crowns on their heads and clothed in purple and precious stones. Flutandget recognized his guests of the hut, but put on a bold front and begged them to take a seat at his table.

"Thank you," said Balthazar, coldly. "We cannot eat with a man who oppresses the poor and sets the dogs on them." "I compliment you on the way you keep your promise," said Melchior, the Giant King, and his voice sounded deep and severe.

"Ah, you set your dogs on beggars," said Gaspard, who still felt an ache in his shins. "You often play on your flute, I see. Oh, wait a while; I'll give you a tune that you have not yet heard," and taking from his pocket a little flute, just like the one that had been given to Japhet, he blew a terrible blast which caused all the glasses on the table to split. Again he put the flute to his lips, all the lights went out and the guests rushed from the castle, trampling over each other in their haste to get away. At the third sound of the flute, the palace disappeared, and the woodcutter found himself alone sitting on the ruins of his hut, he and his wife clothed in rags.

"Oh, what shall we do?" said the poor woman.

"Never mind," said Japhet, "I still have the flute." But search as he would, the talisman could not be found; it had disappeared with the three Kings.

Ever since this happened, it is customary to have a large cake on "King's Day," January 6. It is filled with small silver coins and a slice is given to visitors, or to any poor person who comes to ask an alms.

"I like that story," said Amy, "although it is not in the Bible."

"Well, dear, you may imagine the Kings met with many adventures on their long journey, and the occurrences I relate might have happened as likely as those we read of in 'Ben Hur.' Stories of this kind can do no possible harm, and after reading them, children's curiosity is excited, they want to know more, so they become interested in Bible history."

This reminds me of a visit I paid to a lawyer in Chicago, and what happened to him for his lack of knowledge of Bible stories.

A friend of mine, who is a very successful lawyer, in the course of conversation one day, declared he believed the time had come when lawyers should know a few things besides law. The Bible, for instance.

"That is a very worthy thought," said I.

"I don't claim to be any better or worse than the next person," went on the lawyer, "but I believe a good knowledge of the Scriptures would benefit a man of my calling professionally."

"And spiritually," I suggested.

"I dare say it would. I had a case in one of those downtown justice shops. It went to a jury trial, and the bailiff hauled in half a dozen of those professional hoboes, that are always hanging around such places, on the chance of making a couple of dollars by sitting on a jury."

"I put up two witnesses to prove my case, and one repeated and corroborated the evidence of the other in every particular. The lawyers on the other side argued that this exact agreement of my witnesses at every point made their testimony unreliable. He said no two men could possibly give the same account of what they had seen, not even men of sound and undoubted rectitude. He said that even the Bible proved this, and then he told the story of Jonah and the whale."

"How did Jonah come into the case?" I asked.

"Just this way, my opponent said the Bible contained two versions of the story, one by St. Matthew, and the other by St. Mark. St. Matthew's account was that Jonah made the entire voyage inside the whale, while St. Mark declared that Jonah came out occasionally and sat on the whale's back to get a breath of fresh air."

"Dear me," said the presiding judge. "That version of the voyage of Jonah sounds strange to me. I suppose you can give chapter and verse for it. If you can, I wish you would."

"He can do no such thing, your Honor," said I. "There is no account in the Bible that tells of Jonah riding on the whale's back."

My opponent glanced from one to the other of us contemptuously, and then looked significantly at the jury.

"Gentlemen of the jury," he said solemnly. "I am not addressing my remarks to this Honorable Court, nor to the learned gentleman on the opposite side of this case, whose lamentable ignorance regarding one of the most familiar Scriptural narrations, I sincerely deplore."

"In drawing a parallel between the suspiciously coinciding character of the evidence here given by two witnesses, who apparently have compared notes with extreme care, and the discrepancies shown in the statements of two great inspired writers, I am directing my remarks to intelligent, upright men, who study their Bibles, and who have the great truths of Scripture at their finger ends."

"You should have seen how that bench of hoboes nodded complacently as that audacious lawyer insulted the Court and me. The upshot of the whole business was that I lost my case, and all through not knowing what St. Matthew and St. Mark wrote about Jonah."

I could scarcely keep from laughing while my friend was telling the story, but at this point, I broke out in a prolonged fit of merriment.

"What amuses you so much?" said my friend.

When I could control myself sufficiently to speak, I told him neither St. Matthew nor St. Mark ever wrote that story. It was written thousands of years before they were born. Jonah and the whale story belongs to the Old Testament.

"You don't say! Well, I'll be switched!" exclaimed my friend. "My only consolation," continued he, "is that the Judge didn't know any more than I did."

"That's a good story, Uncle Dick, but if your lawyer had a mother like mine when he was a boy, he never would have made such a ridiculous mistake about Jonah."

"Come, children," called Aunt Lucy, "it's past bed time."

"Good-night, Uncle. Good-night Grandpa Mischief."

CHAPTER XI.

Practising.

Ma—Bolax you are wasting your time, don't stop, you have not practised long enough.

Bolax—Look at the clock, Ma, dear. It was bright sunlight when I began, and now the shades of night are falling.

Ma—That's very poetical, but you must continue practising.

Bolax—Oh, you are the provokingest mother I ever saw; I'll not love you a bit after a while, if you keep on making me practise.

Ma—Go on with your lesson, especially that piece for the concert.

Bolax—Bang, bang, oh, how I wish the man who invented pianos was dead.

Ma—Well, he is dead.

Bolax—Then I wish all the professors were dead.

Ma—A great many of them are. Go on with your work.

Bolax—Oh, Ma, dear, can't you let up on a fellow, if you don't, indeed, indeed, I'll be dead too!

Ma—That has no effect upon me, Bo, I make you practise for your own good. I take the trouble to sit here and worry over you, when I might be upstairs resting.

Bolax—But Ma, dear, how do other boys manage? Their mothers don't bother to make them learn music.

Ma—Perhaps those boys don't need the urging you do.

By this time the patient mother began to show signs of nervousness, and Bo, who really loved his "Ma dear" began to play with a will, but having the spirit of mischief strong in him, put some funny words to the tune he was playing.

Bolax—Oh, twenty thousand rats and forty thousand cats, they all screamed and yelled in sharps and flats!

Suddenly turning round on the stool, he said, "Ma, dear, just let me tell you a dream I had, while I'm resting my fingers."

Ma—Well, only for two minutes.

Bolax—Last night you made me practise so much and old Professor was so dreadful at lesson, that I dreamed I went to the piano, and all the keys turned to Brownies, they looked more like Goblins, and began to dance up and down, they played jig music. It was fine. I gave them "On the Meadow" and "Sounds from the Forest," and they played the two pieces right off.

Ma—Now dear, give just one-half hour more to your lesson and I'll let you have all day tomorrow free, it's the beginning of the Christmas holidays, and the cold is so intense I shouldn't be surprised if the skating and sliding would be fine.

Thus spurred on, Bo surprised himself, and the half hour was more than passed when his mother called him to come upstairs, but he was in the middle of a piece and waited to finish it.

Bolax continued playing softly, then called out—"Ma, dear! I wonder if we will have an adventure this year like last Christmas." "Not very likely, my dear; fortunately there are not many placed in the position poor Mary Ryan was that night. I have invited her to come to the Sunday-school entertainment, and her little Joe is to represent the infant Jesus in the tableaux of the crib."

"Oh, that will be splendid. Hurrah!" shouted Bo.

December 23 was a glorious winter day. The sun shone brilliantly, no wind, and the thermometer low enough to keep the skating pond in good condition, the ice and snow on the hills crisp and slippery for coasting. All day long was heard the jingle of sleigh bells and the shouts of merry children enjoying themselves, rang through the air.

Elmer Mullen, who was a boy of sixteen, had formed a great friendship for Bo. He was quite a good musician and seemed attracted towards the little boy because of his musical talent.

Whenever there was any especial fun on hand, Elmer always called for Bo to join him. There were seven boys who always went together—Elmer Mullen, John Montgomery, Joe Davis, Tom Nolan, Walter Rhue and Bolax. Elmer and John had been prospecting for a hill to make a toboggan slide. They found one very high, but rather steep, it was about a mile from the village. This was just what suited them for they wanted to keep away from the rough crowd.

On the very top of this hill was a small shanty built the previous summer by the men who had been cutting down trees.

"Say boys," said Elmer, "let us play we are the monks of St. Bernard."

"But we haven't even one St. Bernard dog," said John.

"Yes, we have," replied Archie. "Joe Davis has a tremendous fellow, he rolls in the snow, and dug out a chicken that had been buried in a drift, and brought it into the kitchen without hurting it." "Let us have him by all means," said Elmer. "We will call the hut our monastery and pretend this hill is the top of Mount Blanc; we'll send our dogs to find people who are lost in the snow."

"I can bring our Don," said Bolax. "He's most as big as a St. Bernard, but where will we get people to rescue?"

"Let me see," reflected Elmer. "I am the oldest; I'll be the Abbott, you boys will be the brothers; you must all obey the Abbott."—"Obey!" exclaimed Bo. "Oh, that's no fun, we're always having to do that. I want to whoop and holler; let us be snowed-up Indians and make the shanty our Teepee."

"Well," said Elmer, "this afternoon we seven boys will meet. Bring the dogs and sleds, then we'll decide which it shall be—Monks or Indians."

After dinner the seven chums climbed Mount Blanc. Elmer told the boys Mount Blanc was one of the highest mountains in Europe, about 10,000 feet above the level of the sea. "Great goodness!" exclaimed Bolax. "No one could ever climb such a height! Oh, Elmer let us be Esquimos." Saying this Joe Davis and Bo began a series of gyrations accompanied by war-whoops, and getting on their sleds, pitched down the hillside into an unexpected drift. Nothing could be seen of them but the soles of their shoes.

Elmer and the other boys set to work immediately to rescue the Indians. With the help of Don and Bosco both were gotten out after very hard digging with boards, for they dared not wait to go to find shovels, lest the boys would suffocate. When our brave Indians were delivered from their perilous position, it took vigorous rubbing to bring them to their senses.

Elmer then proposed placing them on the sleds and taking them home. On the way they stopped at a farmhouse and the good woman gave them some hot lemonade, with a generous supply of sugar, the boys found it delicious and were loud in their expressions of gratitude, for the hot drink entirely revived our Esquimos.

Passing along the road to the village they saw some grown folks in Houston's meadow sledding, and shouting as if they were boys again. Joe Davis' papa was among them, so he ran to join in the fun, not a whit the worse for his snow bath.

Elmer suddenly remembered that Professor had appointed that night for the rehearsal. "Oh, yes!" said Bo. "By the way, it's to be at our house and I had forgotten all about it. Mamma has invited some of the neighbors to spend the evening and act as audience, so that the timid ones will get used to playing before strangers. Here we are. The gate is open and there's a sleigh at the barn, I shouldn't wonder if Professor had come already. Elmer, do hurry back; don't dress as if it were the real concert."

When Bolax went into the library, Papa and Professor were chatting pleasantly, seated before a roaring fire with its yule log, reminding one of the "Merry Christmas" cheer of olden times. "Hello, my boy!" said Professor, reminding Bo that he had promised to distinguish himself and hoping he had practised so well as to be sure of all his pieces. "Marie Love is my prima donna and I want you to be leading man."

After tea the young ladies and children who were to take part in the concert came into the house laughing and shaking the snow from their clothes, all enjoyed the cheerful fire, and when comfortably warm the music began, as Professor did not wish to keep late hours on a snowy night.

Elmer gave a selection from the "Carnival of Venice" on the violin. Every one complimented him, but Bo was loud in praise of his favorite chum.

"What do you expect to do with yourself, Elmer, after you leave school?" asked Mr. Allen.

"Well, I hope to be a priest, I expect to enter the seminary next September."

"Hurrah!" exclaimed Bolax. "Now I know why you wanted to play Monks instead of Indians." This caused the whole adventure of the afternoon to be recounted. Professor laughed heartily at the exploit of the Indians, but begged Bo to keep out of danger until after the concert. "I don't want your head or hands to be lacking that night. Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you are ready we will begin. The first on the program is:

Oration on Music.

The pleasure derived from music arises from its exciting agreeable sensations, and creating pleasing mental images and emotions. Apart from words, it expresses passion and sentiment; joined to words it becomes a beautiful illustration of language. From the earliest ages of the world music was held in high esteem, and in Egypt and Greece was considered an essential part of the religion of these ancient nations. God's greatest gift for man's pleasure is the hearing of sweet sounds. He gives us music in songs of the birds and there is such a variety of these aeriel musicians. In Paraguay, South America, is a bird called the "bell." When traveling through the forest one hears it at early morning, at mid-day and in the evening. So wonderfully like a bell is the note of this bird that on hearing its clear ring at regular intervals, one would suppose he were listening to the Angelus-bell from the tower of some church or monastery.

Music must be loved to be studied profitably. Each new step taken in the right direction develops power and suggests possibilities to the loving student.

Music is useful in all occupations of life. How often have we not heard of missionaries converting savage tribes by telling them the truths of religion in song.

The physician can bring music with his practice and calm a nervous patient by playing a soft, soothing air, which sometimes has more effect than medicine.

Music is not only a body healer, it is also a mind regulator. Inward activities are called up, and become new powers within the breasts, for, remember emotion nerves for action.

The most stupid horse that goes up hill to the sound of bells, the timidest soldier that marches to battle with fife and drum, the most delicate girl who spins around tireless in the dance, the poorest laborer who sings at his work, any of them will prove that music rouses and sustains emotion.

Painting, sculpture and other arts which men spend years and years acquiring are useful for this world only, but music they can take with them to Heaven.

O, music! thou language of the Gods, how shall I find words wherewith to sound thy praises. Thou art the soother of sorrows, earth is happy under thy influence, and Heaven would be deprived of half its glory without thee!

This was very much applauded, and Colonel O'Brien called out "well done, Father Mullen, you'll be giving us fine sermons in a few years."

Next number is:

This ended the rehearsal. Professor than spoke a few words thanking the audience for their evident appreciation of his pupils' efforts.

Colonel O'Brien, who seemed to be spokesman for the rest of the company, said: "Professor, it is we who should thank you. I can honestly say I am surprised at the proficiency of your pupils; either they have extraordinary talent or you are a wonderfully successful master. Now let us give three cheers for Professor and wish him health, happiness and great success for the coming year." The cheers were given with a hearty ring, for the dear gentleman was highly esteemed by every one.

"Professor," said Elmer. "Bolax knows a fine piece, I think it ought to be on the program." "Well, Elmer, not this time; I fear we have kept our audience too long for such a stormy night."

"Oh, no, no!" called out several of the ladies. "Come, Bo let us hear your oration."

"Oh, bother! It is not an oration; it's just a funny piece about a newsboy, who got into a church and is astonished at all he hears and sees."

THE NEWSBOY'S SOLILOQUY ON HEARING A BOY SING IN CHURCH.

By Thomas Kelley, of Omaha.

Bo was applauded "to the echo," and Professor said that piece should be recited at the May Concert. Just before leaving, every guest had to take a cup of cocoa, as Hetty said. "You all jest drink it up, it will put a web of flannel round you' heart, an' keep out the cold dis freezin' night."

Elmer and the boys started a college song—"Good Night and Good-Bye 'Till We Meet Again."

CHAPTER XII.

First Communion.

After school closed Mrs. Allen had a serious conversation with her son on the subject of First Holy Communion. "You are now past eleven, dear child, and I want you and Amy to devote the whole vacation to immediate preparation for your First Communion. Sister Amy is thirteen, but owing to her infirmity, has been deprived of that favor until now. I have made arrangements with the Sisters of Mercy to take you for the next six weeks, that you may be under special instruction and away from mischievous pranks and scrapes like those of last summer, when in company with the village boys."

"But Ma, dear, six weeks! Will I have to be silent and pray all that time?"

"No, no, my son; there are a few nice boys in the Convent who will remain all summer, so you will not be without recreation. Indeed, you will have plenty of fun, for the Sisters play ball with the boys."

Amy came into the room while her mother was speaking.

"I have just been telling Bolax of what we propose doing by way of preparation for that most important event of our lives, viz: the First reception of our dear Lord in Holy Communion."

"You both know your catechism perfectly, and I am sure understand all you have studied. I know you firmly believe all the sacred truths contained in the Gospels and Teachings of the Catholic Church. For the past three years our talks on the subject have been many and earnest. You know how kind our dear Lord was while here on earth, how he fed five thousand people in the wilderness. Well, He is just as loving and kind now, and gives us His precious Body and Blood to nourish and comfort our souls. So, dear children, let all your thoughts, words and actions from this day be offered up as a preparation for that greatest of all events of your life, your First Holy Communion."