Her home is cold and desolate; no smile, no wood, no fire,
But children clamorous for bread, and an impatient sire.
So she sits down in an angle where two great houses meet,
And she curleth up beneath her for warmth her little feet;
And she looketh on the cold wall, and on the colder sky
And wonders if the little stars are bright fires up on high.
She hears the clock strike slowly, up in a high church tower,
With such a sad and solemn tone, telling the midnight hour.

And she remembered her of tales her mother used to tell,
And of the cradle-songs she sang, when Summer's twilight fell ;
Of good men and of angels, and of the Holy Child,

Who was cradled in a manger, when Winter was most wild;
Who was poor, and cold, and hungry, and desolate and lone;
And she thought the song had told he was ever with his own;
And all the poor and hungry and forsaken ones are his.—
"How good of him to look on me in such a place as this!"

Colder it grows and colder, but she does not feel it now,
For the pressure on her heart, and the weight upon her brow;
But she struck one little match on the wall so cold and bare.
That she might look around her, and see if He were there.
The single match has kindled, and by the light it threw
It seemed to little Gretchen the wall was rent in two;
And she could see folks seated at a table richly spread,
With heaps of goodly viands, red wine and pleasant bread.

She could smell the fragrant savor, she could hear what they

did say,

Then all was darkness once again, the match had burned

away.

She struck another hastily, and now she seemed to see

Within the same warm chamber a glorious Christmas tree. The branches were all laden with things that children prize, Bright gifts for boy and maiden-she saw them with her eyes. And she almost seemed to touch them, and to join the welcome

shout,

When darkness fell around her, for the little match was out.

Another, yet another, she has tried-they will not light ;
Till all her little store she took, and struck with all her might,
And the whole miserable place was lighted with the glare,
And she dreamed there stood a little child before her in the

air.

There were blood-drops on his forehead, a spear-wound in his

side,

And cruel nail-prints in his feet, and in his hands spread wide. And he looked upon her gently, and she felt that he had known

Pain, hunger, cold, and sorrow-ay, equal to her own.

And he pointed to the laden board and to the Christmas tree, Then up to the cold sky, and said, "Will Gretchen come with me?"

The poor child felt her pulses fail, she felt her eyeballs swim, And a ringing sound was in her ears, like her dead mother's

hymn :

And she folded both her thin white hands, and turned from that bright board,

And from the golden gifts, and said,

O Lord!"'

"With thee, with thee,

The chilly winter morning breaks up in the dull skies

On the city wrapt in vapor, on the spot where Gretchen lies.

In her scant and tattered garments, with her back against the wall,

She sitteth cold and rigid, she answers to no call.

They have lifted her up fearfully, they shuddered as they

said,

"It was a bitter, bitter night! the child is frozen dead." The angels sang their greeting for one more redeemed from

sin;

Men said, "It was a bitter night; would no one let her in?" And they shivered as they spoke of her, and sighed.

could not see

How much of happiness there was after that misery.

They

NOBODY'S CHILD.

PHILA H. CASE.

Alone in the dreary, pitiless street,
With my torn old dress, and bare, cold feet,
All day I have wandered to and fro,

Hungry and shivering, and no where to go;
The night's coming on in darkness and dread,
And the chill sleet beating upon my bare head.
Oh! why does the wind blow upon me so wild?
Is it because I am nobody's child?

Just over the way there's a flood of light,
And warmth and beauty, and all things bright;
Beautiful children, in robes so fair,

Are caroling songs in their rapture there,
I wonder if they, in their blissful glee,
Would pity a poor little beggar like me,
Wandering alone in the merciless street,
Naked and shivering, and nothing to eat?

Oh what shall I do when the night comes down,
In its terrible blackness all over the town?

Shall I lay me down 'neath the angry sky,

On the cold, hard pavement, alone to die,

When the beautiful children their prayers have said,
And their mammas have tucked them up snugly in bed?

For no dear mother on me ever smiled,-
Why is it, I wonder, I'm nobody's child?

No father, no mother, no sister, not one

In all the world loves me, e'en the little dogs run
When I wander too near them; 'tis wondrous to see,
How everything shrinks from a beggar like me!
Perhaps 'tis a dream; but sometimes, when I lie
Gazing far up in the dark blue sky,

Watching for hours, some large, bright star,
I fancy the beautiful gates are ajar,

And a host of white-robed, nameless things,
Come fluttering o'er me on gilded wings;
A hand that is strangely soft and fair
Caresses gently my tangled hair,

And a voice like the carol of some wild bird

The sweetest voice that was ever heard

Calls me many a dear, pet name,

Till my heart and spirit are all aflame.

They tell me of such unbounded love,
And bid me come up to their home above;
And then with such pitiful, sad surprise,
They look at me with their sweet, tender eyes,
And it seems to me, out of the dreary night,
I am going up to that world of light;
And away from the hunger and storm so wild,
I am sure I shall then be somebody's child.

THE FIREMAN'S WEDDING.

"What are we looking at, mister?

W. A. EATON.

Well, d'yer see that kerridge and pair?
It's a wedding-that's what it is, sir ;
And ar❜n't they a beautiful pair?

"They don't want no marrow-bone music,
There's the fireman's band come to play;
It's a red shirt that's going to git married,
And you don't see such sights every day!

'They're in the church now, and we're waiting
To give 'em a cheer as they come ;

And the grumbler that's not celebrating,
Deserves all his life to go dumb.

They won't be out for a minute,
So if you've got time and will stay,
I'll tell you right from the beginning
About this 'ere wedding to-day,

"One night I was fast getting drowsy,

And thinkin' ov going to bed,

When I heerd such a clattering and "rouse ye!"

"So I jumped up and opened the window; 'It's a fire, sure enough, wife!' says I ; For the people were running and shouting, And the red glaring lit up the sky.

"I kicked off my old carpet slippers,
And on with my boots in a jiff;

I hung up my pipe in the corner
And lost me the last pungent whiff.

"The wife, she just grumbled a good 'un, But I didn't take notice of that,

For I on with my coat in a second

And sprang down the stairs like a cat!

"I followed the crowd, and it brought me
In front of the house in a blaze;
At first I could see nothing clearly,
For the smoke made it all of a haze.

"The firemen were running their fastest,
Unwinding great lengths of their hose;
The 'police' were a-pushing the people,
And treading on every one's toes.

"I got jammed with some more in a corner, Where I couldn't move, try as I might;

But little I cared for the squeezing

So long as I had a good sight,