relief when Will fetched her to see the folks arrive-men, women, and children, with such beaming faces, and in such gay ribbons.

The evening was a confusion of dances and noisy games, in which Sir Guy and the good-humoured Sir Clifford made themselves conspicuous. Even Johanna forgot her dignity after awhile, feeling, perhaps, that the attentions of horny-handed young farmers were preferable to total neglect. There had been some jesting, early in the day, about the mistletoe, and Alice had been so wary that no one could catch her under it. She had seen Kate, and Johanna, and even Lady Hildyard fall victims; but the riotous game of blind man's buff began, and Alice forgot the enemy overhead in her eager. ness to avoid the clutches of the enemy below; so it happened that Will Lister seized her and snatched a kiss. It did not matter greatly, as Will was almost like a brother; but worse came, for a few minutes afterwards the laughing crowd came round her again and pushed her under another bunch of white berries, with Ralph close at her side. Alice hoped she might escape; but he stooped down to take the forfeit.

"A boon, master Ralph! the first I have ever craved."

"What! to relinquish my right?" said Ralph. "No, gentle lady; my self-denial is not equal to that sacrifice." So the penalty had to be paid but Alice submitted with such evident reluctance, and looked so distressed, that all Ralph's jealousy was again aroused. A dark cloud came over his face as he gravely observed, "I am, indeed, unfortunate if I have offended you a second time this day; but it would be no compliment to any pretty maiden to forego so sweet a privilege."

"No, truly, I am not angered; I have no right to be to-night, and it was at your own pleasure you granted or denied the favour."

"Ask me another and it is yours, upon my honour." But Alice had no further request to make; and as soon as she found an opportunity she went to cool herself in the drawing-room. The curtains had not been drawn over one of the windows, and Alice, leaning her hot cheek against the panes, watched the soft flakes of snow coming down, and almost wished herself at home. It was only a kiss, a trifle to disturb her so much; how many had been lightly given and taken that evening. But Alice had strict notions on the subject; kisses were holy things to her-creatures to be born of naught but love and trust. Her lips seemed sacred since one wellremembered moment; and although now she had not

"laid them out to take

Kisses for good manners' sake,"

she felt somehow as if Andrew had been wronged.

Supper-time came, and if any one had wondered at dinner how all those meats and pasties would ever be consumed, their wonder

ceased when they saw how the folks did eat, and how they emptied the bowls of spiced ale. Ralph and Kate served them with their own hands, and Alice was employed in cutting up one of the great Christmas cakes, which the children highly appreciated. During supper the carol-singers came again, and were entertained like the rest, paying for their feast with songs.

"Now for my favourite carol," cried Sir Guy; "'tis the sweetest of all."

With heart and soul they responded to his call for the ancient legend of a kingly saint:

"Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen;
When the snow lay round about, deep, and crisp, and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night. though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.
"Hither, page, and stand by me, if thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he? where and what his dwelling?'
'Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes' fountain.'
"Bring me flesh, and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither;
Thou and I will see him dine ere we feast together.'

Page and monarch forth they went, forth they went together,
Through the rude wind's loud lament, and the bitter weather.
"Sire, the cold is keener now, and the wind blows stronger;
Faints my heart I know not how, I can go no longer.'

Mark my footsteps good, my page; tread thou in them boldly;
Thou shalt feel the winter's rage freeze thy blood less coldly."
"In his master's steps he trod where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod, which the saint had printed;
Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing."

Singing and eating ended, prudent fathers and mothers prepared for going home. Many of the little ones were already asleep, and it was with much ado they were made fit for their late journeys. Some went in waggons, some on heavy farm horses, and others, that had not far to go, on foot, making a pathway through the newly-fallen snow. At length the bustle was over, the last good-night and thanks and blessings shouted, and a great calm seemed to settle down suddenly upon the entertainers. They stood for a little while watching the yule log expire, until Ralph brought in the silver wassail bowl, from which all were expected to "drink to their peg." Then every one confessed to weariness, and soon the great hall was left to silence and darkness.

The next day Alice was quite sick with pain in her head; she tried to rise, but was forced to lie down again; while Kate, who was a marvel of sound health, came into Alice's chamber looking as bright and fresh as if nothing had been done overnight, and took up her station as nurse.

The snow continued to fall all that day and the next night, so

that Sir Guy's guests were kept prisoners indoors. On Sunday morning Alice was able to present herself at the breakfast-table, but all idea of getting to church was abandoned, and prayers were read in the library by the host not much to the edification of any one. In the afternoon Lawrence Wharton and his sister proposed a game of cards, to which Kate readily assented.

'Come, Ralph," said Lawrence, "you will take a hand?"

But

to their surprise Ralph declined to join them. Kate looked rather vexed, and urged it; but, though he spoke very lovingly to her, he would not be overcome.

She turned to Will Lister. "Sir William, you will not refuse? These winter Sundays are so long and wearisome, we must beguile the time in some way."

Alice looked at her cousin, hoping he would say no, for good Mr. Marvel's teachings had influenced the outward lives of his parishioners, even when he had failed to touch their hearts.

“I pray you excuse me, Mistress Katherine," said he. "I never play on Sundays."

"Hey-day!" cried Lawrence, curling his lip, while Johanna opened her light eyes a little wider.

"What is the harm, Sir William?" asked Kate. "You cast a sort of reflection upon me by refusing, as if I were doing wrong."

"I don't presume to judge for you, dear Mistress Kate, but it has always been my custom to observe the Sabbath, and I see no reason to alter."

"If it is only a custom," replied Kate, "it is one 'more honoured in the breach than the observance.'"

"Especially," added Lawrence, "in the present instance. You can have no heart or gallantry, man, if you put-pardon me-a useless and unsociable habit before the wishes of a lady."

Will could not withstand this argument. He had spoken of his observance of the fourth commandment merely as a custom, instead of a principle. He avoided meeting Alice's eye as he approached the table, saying to Kate, "For once I will break through my rule, but only because I would clear myself from the imputation of heartlessness. Your wishes this afternoon shall be my law."

"Now, Alice, you are not going away," said Kate, as she saw her leaving the room. "My conquest over Sir William makes me confident of winning you, though he says you are almost a Puritan."

Alice's heart beat fast, it was hard to speak, for the elder folks were silently looking on and listening. "I am not sure about being a Puritan," said she, "but I think it wrong to break the Sabbath."

"But what sin is there in amusing one's self? We had prayer

this morning, and we can't get to church. Why our parson would sit down directly, without any pressing, if he were here, so it can't be very wicked. Don't be so much of a saint, Alice."

"I am not a saint, but I dare not touch the cards," faltered Alice, and then she escaped to her own room.

An hour afterwards a knock came to her door, and Kate asked to be admitted. Alice's Bible lay open near her, and for an instant she felt tempted to close it, and put it aside, but she checked the cowardly impulse, and replied, "Come in, dear Kate, why do you wait for leave?

Kate entered and seated herself before the fire without saying a word for some minutes, then she suddenly exclaimed, "Will you tell me the real reason why you would not play this afternoon ?" "Because, as I said downstairs, I think it wrong. I am not stricter than the Bible teaches us to be."

"I wonder you care for such a dull book," said Kate, still looking into the fire, a shade of contempt on her dark face, for she had noticed the volume on her entrance.

"It is not dull to me," replied Alice. Kate turned with an impatient answer on her lips, but something in her friend's countenance checked her, and in a gentler tone she remarked, "I never could bear to do things different from other people, they think you want to be better than the rest of the world."

"I should like to have done as you wanted, dear Kate, but those words of Christ would keep in my mind, where He speaks of our not being ashamed of Him before men."

'Ah, well, I do believe Ralph must be coming round to your way of thinking, he would not play either; once he loved cards, and would have a game any day. It must be your doing that he is changed."

"I never said aught to Master Ralph. Perhaps he was in no humour for amusement to-day."

"Nay, but in other things he is not like the Ralph of old. I am not exactly sorry, Alice, only don't make him too serious."

"Indeed, Kate, I have nothing to do with it," said Alice, annoyed at the implication.

"Well, at any rate we are friends again. I saw you were grieved about your cousin Will; he shall have his way another time; I won't play Mother Eve next Sunday."

(To be continued.)

694

PORTRAITS OF THE PATRIARCHS.

BY MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.

X.-BUTH THE MOABITESS.

THE story of Ruth is a most beautiful idyl of domestic life, opening to us in the barbarous period of the Judges. In reading some of the latter chapters of that book, one might almost think that the system of Moses had proved a failure, and that the nation was lapsing back into the savage state of the heathen world around them; just as in reading the history of the raids and feuds of the middle ages, one might consider Christianity a failure. But in both cases there were nooks and dells embosomed in the wild roughness of unformed society, where good and honest hearts put forth buds and blossoms of immortal sweetness and perfume. This history of Ruth unveils to us some of the best people and the best sort of life that were formed by the laws and institutes of Moses-a life pastoral, simple, sincere, reverential, and benevolent.

The story is on this wise. A famine took place in the land of Judah, and a man named Elimelech went with his wife and two sons to sojourn in the land of Moab. The sons took each of them a wife of the daughters of Moab, and they dwelt there about ten years. After that, the man and both the sons died, and the mother, with her two widowed young daughters, prepared to return to her kindred. Here the scene of the little drama opens. The mother, Naomi, comes to our view, a kind-hearted, commonplace woman, without any strong religious faith or possibility of heroic exaltation -just one of those women that see the hard, literal side of a trial, ungilded by any faith or hope. We can fancy her discouraged and mournful air, and hear the melancholy croak in her voice as she talks to her daughters, when they profess their devotion to her, and their purpose to share her fortunes and go with her to the land of Israel.

Are

"Turn again, my daughters; why will ye go with me? there yet any more sons in my womb, that they may be your busbands? Turn again, my daughters, go your way, for I am too old to have an husband. If I should say that I have hope to-night that I should have an husband, and bear sons, would ye tarry for them till they were grown? Would ye stay from having husbands? Nay, my daughters, it grieveth me for your sake that the hand of the Lord hath gone out against me."

This pre-eminently literal view of the situation seemed to strike one of the daughters as not to be gainsaid, for we read: “And