A CHRISTMAS GIFT.

Otago Witness, Issue 2026, 22 December 1892, Page 1

A CHRISTMAS GIFT.

Specially Written for the Witness Chrintmas Number of 1592. By ALICE. In shrill or dreamy muffled note The birds their music flung ; And in the valley hidden rills Their rippling anthem sung. The warm, soft vapours quivered clear A magic cloak unfurled— A dewy, glittering mystery 'Tween heaven and the world. No sound the silence broke, save one, The murmuring tones to mar— The talking leaves and whispering grass, The bleating lamb from far ; The splashing of the old mill wheel Churning its silver spray— The distant laughter of a child Were voices of the day. But harsh and clear at intervals The one discordant note Through all that tranquil hush of noon And dreamy silence smoto, Like some sharp protest to the peace That breathed its magic spell And wooed the bees to idleness The suund rang through the dell. Too swiftly in the golden ease The sun-crowned moments sped ; The happy birds had nought to say Of sorrow and the dead. Again the sound ! Beside the road A grey old man— alone, Who wiped his brow in weariness And anger— breaking stone. His rugged face like brown, carved wood ; j No gentle lineament In harmony with Nature's peace Proclaimed its sweet content. 11 Peace and good will to man," he cried. " Where is man's love to me ? Christ never lived! or is the world Not what it used to be ?" He grasped the pick and flung it high, Then down the singing dell The sound of labour-once again Had Adam's curse to tell ; ; But nowhere in the vaulted sky ] Saw he, nor understood, * That after winter and the storm Doth came the summer's mood. •' Christ never lived j he-muttered slow. . " Earth travails in her pain. Jf he did live, why, thep, he failed ; He'd better come again." He turned to lift again his pick, And in the sunshine smiled, His waving hair bright in the breeze, A lovely little child. "I've brought you flowers," he said, and held Tho roses fair to view. "I'd nothing else, you know, old man, That I could give to you : And mother says we should give giftsIt is the happiest way— And I have brought you these because To-morrow's Chiistmas Day. " All those we love, my mother says, 'Tis happy to make glad ; But butter far, my mother says, It is to cheer the sad. And God, who saw the world was sad, And wicked as could be, Gave Jesus for his Christmas gift— A little boy like me." The old man dropped his pick and sat Iv wonder and surprise, Gazing, as the old world once looked On Christ's soft searching eyes, In doubt, and yet in wistfulness That love and peace might be. The boy climbed up with nimble haste And sat upon his' knee. " I'm tired of my other games, And I should like to play That you're the world, and Im the boy God sent on Christmas day ; And I have come to you, old world, Weaiy with work and sin. Open your vest. Here is your heart, And you have let me in." The curly head dropped on tbe breast The childish words had rent, And toil-worn hands held close the child Who smiled in his content. " I love you, world," he prattled on, " And you must love me, too. The other world hatei God's Son, But it is not like you." And then his prattling tongue was stillHe smiling, fell asleep.- , .... .. What message had the sweet child brought To make the old man weep ? His faded eyes looked far away Beyond the hill's blue rim. Had Christ brought love into the world As this child unto him '! The only man in the world who lives in a mansion built in the air is Mr Fay, an American millionaire. The building in question is situated at Guanajuato. It is over 300 ft high, and is supported by massive iron pillars. Immense gardens surround the mansion, reminding one of the legendary suspended gardens of Babylon. Access to the building is gained by a gigantic lilt, and communication with the town is by telephone. When the eyes become weak or the lids inflamed and sore, a tcroftilouG condition of ihe blood is iudtcated. For scrofula, in all its formal Ayer's Sareaparilla is the best remedy. It in} vigorates the blood and expels all humours.