CHAPTER XX.

CHRISTMAS.

HRISTMAS-EVE! and a sharp frosty night to wit, ushering in this season of rejoicing! Above, a dome of deepest azure, from which, clear-cut as glittering diamonds, the myriad stars shower down their silver light. How beautiful! Truly a night in which "the heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth His handy-work "—a night to arouse one's mind from the sleep of indolence and inactivity, and, heart and soul attuned to praise, unite to glorify the great Creator's glorious Name. How joyously the bells ring out, peal upon peal resounding far and wide in the stillness of midwinter's night, speaking with their manifold tongues of Him, the lowly Babe of Bethlehem, Who, long years ago, at this season, entered upon His human life, with its privations, its cares, its agonizing sorrows, its death of intolerable pain and crushing shame, such as man never before suffered, and never again can suffer. On this night how many hear the joy-bells, but with dulled ears, and hearts echoing no response to the sweet message they bring.

In one heart, however, in one noble useful soul, response is found; one breast is thrilling anew with thankfulness that the life bestowed upon him by his Maker has by Him been utilised and blessed.

Dr. Leslie stands in his study, his thoughtful eye scanning the starry firmament, and from his over-flowing heart there arises a song of thanksgiving for the happiness bestowed upon him in this his earthly life.

A sound of merry voices reaches his ears: he half smiles. How bright are his days now, how sweet, in the possession of his little ones.

"Arthur is improving," he murmurs to himself; “I have much for which to thank Charlie. How I am growing to love, really to love that boy; he is so noble, so dignified, and yet withal so purely boyish and simple in his tastes. There is the stamp of true worth upon him, in his uprightness, his self-control, and his deep, loving nature. Will my surmise respecting him prove correct? I hope, I think it will. How strange, too, that Alex Menteith should love him, as he evidently does. He told me himself that he felt irresistibly drawn towards him. And his love is returned, for Charlie hangs upon his every word, when by, and follows his guidance,—this noble, gentle boy, who, I hope, will some day, fill the office of a Christian minister, even should he prove to be what I think, the lost son of the Menteiths. It is indeed a blessing to my high-spirited, hot-tempered little Arthur, to possess such a friend: the influence of Charlie may assist greatly in correcting his defects, and in laying the foundation of true worth of character. I felt inclined

to blame him for his rashness in venturing to the trial without my consent; but I can now plainly see that all was over-ruled for good; I was planning his future; but all was arranged for me by a Wiser Hand, and he has been led to choose wisely in a companion and friend. I must away to them now."

His words were arrested by a sound of music. It was Charlie, who, seating himself at the piano, in compliance with the entreaties of Arthur and Katie, commenced the recitative," And there were shepherds," from the Messiah, He had been placed under Dr. Westwood, when very young, for instruction on the piano, and had developed a full richness of touch delightful to hear. How easily he played, too, without the least exertion or unnecessary movement, the pressure of his supple fingers upon the keys drawing forth exceeding beauty of tone.

"You don't exert yourself in the least," had said Arthur to him one day; "I never saw anyone play with such ease. And how beautiful the keys sound-it isn't like the same instrument under your hands. Is there any

secret in piano-playing?"

"Yes."

"What is it?

"The secret of touch. It's no use banging the keys as if you'd a sledge-hammer, to get out the tone. Dr. Westwood teaches me to play with very loose fingers and loose wrist, and that does bring out the tone. I learned with him half-a-year, before he let me play from notes. He said he wanted first to form my touch, and get me to use my hands correctly. It's just the same as it is with

Р

singing, tone is the first thing he always tells us not to force our voices, you know. So, in playing, you must learn to play easily, without forcing the hands, and they'll go without force if they're trained. If you do employ force, there's only one thing left, you'll never get the proper tone out of either voice or piano, it will always be disagreeable."

Having finished the recitative, he took up the solo, "Rejoice greatly," singing with the greatest ease, and without any audible use of breath, his clear, lovely notes, good alike in all registers, filling the house with sweet pellucid melody.

When he had finished, in walked the doctor, saying, "It's time to get ready, boys! Charlie, how softly you play your accompaniments!"

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He

Yes, sir; Dr. Westwood teaches me to do so. says loud playing drowns the voice, and in accompanying solos great care should be taken that they are softly played, so as to give the voice prominence over the instrument."

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Quite right, an excellent rule, though I am sorry to say but few observe it. Sing in the cathedral, as you have done here, and you will take the people by storm."

Some days previous to this, the doctor had held a long conversation with Charlie upon the subject of his birth and parentage.

Calling the boy into his study, he began: "Charlie, I am going to ask you a number of questions. I have a particular reason for so doing, and I wish you to make your answers as clear as possible."

"How old are you?"

"I shall be thirteen on the 16th of next February.'

"Where is your home?"

"At Dernham."

"With whom did you live before you were a chorister?"

"With my grandmother."

"Have you a grandfather?"

"No, Dr. Leslie, I have not."

“Have you ever known your grandfather ? ”

"No."

"Have you ever, that you can remember, heard his name?"

"Do you know the names of your parents?"

"No."

"Why have you never asked your grandmother, she would surely tell you?"

"I have asked, and she told me not to be inquisitive, and threatened to beat me if I did so again."

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Very strange! do you know nothing of your parents?"

"Describe your grandmother to me."

"She is tall and thin. Her hair is grey (it has been black), and her eyes are dark, very dark indeed."

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Then, I suppose there is no resemblance between

you?"

"None, whatever," replied Charlie.

"Does she treat you kindly?"