CHRISTMAS.

Translated from the French of Viscount Walsh.

In this feast, which may well be called the feast of mothers, of children, and of the poor, what encouragement is there not for all: but more especially, what consolations for those whom the world excludes from the number of its favorites. Before the birth of Christ, honors and respect were granted only to power and prosperity temples were erected to good fortune. Before Christ, the poor might groan, the slave might complain, but the Pagan was deaf to their groans and tears. Olympus was the abode only of smiling divinities: riches, glory, pleasure, all had their gods; but adversity and misfortune had not theirs.

Now, that Jesus Christ has been born in a stable, whilst in his infancy he has been compelled to fly into exile-now, that he has been persecuted, crowned with thorns, and put to death-now, no grief is left unheeded, and the hope which consoles is a virtue of obligation. From the birth of the Divine Son of Mary, flow all the consolations of the Christian religion. From the little mountain of Bethlehem, spring all the living waters which heal our wounds and relieve our sufferings. It is with reason, then, that the nations rejoice at the approach of this great night, with its stars, its brilliantly illuminated mass, its holy songs and watchings.

Indeed, I can imagine nothing more beautiful, nothing more poetical than a Christmas night, kept in a Catholic country by pious Christians.

The bells sounding above our heads the joyful and sonorous peals which arouse the city, are the voices of the angels who cry out to us from the clouds, "Glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to men of good will."

The great brilliancy which fills the vast church, the light which shines among the highest arches, gilding and adorning the columns, recall to the minds of the pious, the miraculous brightness which appeared in the heavens, and which conducted the shepherds to the stable of Bethlehem.

Those clear and melodious voices which resound in the sanctuary, the noble and majestic sound of the organ, are a lively representation of heaven and earth, cherubim and men united in praising God.

In the midst of the green branches of holly and ivy, which winter has not been able to despoil of their verdure, behold a cradle-the infant Jesus reposes therein: it has been thus ornamented by the hands of the sisters of the hospitals and convents. There, mothers are praying on bended knees for their sick children; the general joy has diminished their anxiety, they invoke the mother of their Saviour with more confidence than custom: Mary has been a mother, she cannot but understand them, she will hear their prayers, and offer them to her Son.

After the three masses which began at the first stroke of the midnight hour, and which have been said in the midst of a thousand burning tapers and clouds of incense, the faithful, filled with a holy joy, return to their homes, and before retiring to sleep, seat themselves to a gay repast, called by our forefathers the feast of Christmas, and which, in Christian families, admits of nothing but what is innocent.

When the sacred night is on the point of terminating, and when the sky begins to whiten in the east, then sounds the bell for the mass of dawn; and those who

remained at home during the performance of the sacred office, hasten now, their turn, to offer up their prayers.

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Later, when the sun is considerably advanced in his course, all the joyful bells of the Cathedral, and of the parishes of the town are in motion, and a concert, as it were, is heard in the air, and the birds which are accustomed to build their nests in the old spires and ancient towers, are dislodged from their stony nests, and fly in crowds about the churches.

The ancient basilica is so crowded that the squares of granite with which it is paved are no longer perceptible. The columns seem to rise towards the vaulted roof from a living mosaic of heads crowded together, and affording to the eye a varied contrast of colors. In the mean time, the assembled multitudes divide, retiring to the right and left, and make a passage for the prince of the church who officiates, and who is about to celebrate high mass. Vested in a golden chasuble, with his mitre on his head, and crosier in his hand, he advances slowly, blessing he faithful who bend their heads at his approach. The silver cross of the parish, the red one of the chapter, acolytes, thurifers, chanters, deacons, priests, venerable canons, all carrying lighted tapers in their hands, precede him singing: "A bright light has shone upon us, because the Lord is born to us. He is born, the Lord, and he shall be called the Admirable, the Prince of peace, the Father of the world to come. The reign of the Lord shall have no end. Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord, God hath appeared to us. Sing canticles of praise, ye heavens; be glad, O earth, for the Lord hath had mercy on his people, and hath consoled them,-He hath had compassion on his afflicted children."

When the procession has been round the church, as soon as it has re-entered the sanctuary, the high mass commences; sometimes are heard the voices of the chanters, accompanied by the sound of sonorous instruments; sometimes the vaulted roof echoes with the majestic peals of the organ; sometimes a grave and solemn silence reigns throughout. Above the thousands who are assembled on bended knees, a bluish cloud rolls in volumes, it is the smoke of the incense: so much has been burnt at the midnight mass, and at the mass of dawn, that the whole church is filled with perfume.

On this day, if the organist is master of his instrument, he will repeat those ancient airs so much loved by our forefathers, and which we have heard in our infancy. Nothing tends more to assist us in praying, than recalling to our minds reminiscences of former times; who can pray without faith, when he reflects on his mother, and his tender years? Let not the organists then have recourse any more to the opera of their motetts, but let them repeat those ancient national airs, which have not passed through the blood of revolutions, and miscalled reformations, but which the walls of our churches have, if I may so speak, rendered quite familiar. It is not before the altar only that the feast is kept: the hearth has also its Christmas rejoicings: on this day the families assemble together, and the little children are allowed to dine at table, for this is their feast. I have described the Christmas solemnity as it is observed in a large town, under the vaulted roof of a cathedral and celebrated by a high dignitary of the Church. I might have taken for the subject of my description, Christmas in the country-in a village—or a castle, for this feast possesses every where a great poetical beauty.

I remember a midnight mass said in secret during the persecution of '93. At that time there was no longer any church in which to celebrate the holy mysteries: a barn was chosen by the villagers for that purpose. The women decorated it the night before; coarse but very white cloths were hung around; a rustic table, covVOL. IV.-No. 11.

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ered with very white cloths, served for the altar; branches of holly, with sma red berries, were placed like nosegays on each side of the ebony crucifix, with two links in iron torches. This was all the pomp in those times of persecution. Without doubt it was not unacceptable before God, who searches the reins and hearts before him, and who was pleased to be born in a stable, and who called poor shepherds to his cradle rather than kings.

The hour which brings to mind the miraculous birth was come, each family had been waiting for it, assembled together before the fire relating ancient stories, and singing in a low voice old Christmas carols. Alone, and without making any noise, each of the faithful hastened to the barn which had been so adorned for the feast. With what piety did they not fall upon their knees before this poor altar! The faith of the shepherds, who heard the angels themselves announce the birth of our Saviour, was not more lively than that of these poor peasants,-of these men of good will, who also adored the Son of Mary in a stable.

To assemble together for prayer, was then one of the greatest crimes; death was the punishment, and this thought added new vigor to their piety; it was like the primitive Christians praying in the Catacombs. When the priest appeared at the altar, the tears flowed from the eyes of all: and the priest was so touched, that he also shed tears, which were far from being bitter: confessor of the faith, he had been struck, and persecuted for his Saviour; only a few days before, he had been seen in the hands of the executioners, and was within a hair's breadth of being put to death, and now behold him, leaning over the altar of God, the God who rejoiced his youth.

The feelings which prevailed there, were different from those which were caused by the pomp of the cathedral; but God being present under the cottage roof quite as much as under the gilded vault of the cathedral, hearts were touched, and souls elevated.

While Christmas fills the towns and villages with joy, old country houses have also their rejoicings; the majority of the families who occupy noble manors, are fond of preserving ancient customs; wherefore, after the collation which they take together about seven o'clock in the evening, the watching is prolonged in the hall, where, for once, no profane music is admitted. If any of the young damsels play the piano or the harp, it is to accompany their voices to some of the hymns of the middle ages restored by Felis. This evening, if any thing is read aloud over the work-table, it is such a work as the Genie du Christianisme, commencing at the chapter on feasts.

The neighbors are assembled with the family and guests of the house; and when the chapel (well decorated with the choicest flowers of the green-house, and lit up with tapers) is opened, in a few moments it is filled with people, so that those who are in the gallery can no longer see the pavement of black and white marble-it has disappeared beneath the kneeling crowd; rich, poor, farmers, servants, are come to adore the Lord and Master of all.

At the most solemn part of the mass, are heard melodious voices singing the Adeste fideles. The baron's daughters, with their young friends, form the choir, which, by its sweetness and harmony, calls to mind the choir of angels, who sang to the shepherds, glory to God in the highest, and peace on earth to men of good will.

I have endeavored to paint the pomp of a Christmas mass, celebrated in a cathedral-I have described the celebration of a mass in a village, in a time of persecution; I will now recall to mind a Christmas feast spent in a foreign country.

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In the north of England, near the small town of Clithero, at the foot of Pendel Hill, one of the highest mountains in Great Britain, lived at S Hall a fervent Catholic, Lord S. His forefathers had been persecuted for the faith under Henry VII and Elizabeth, and when the persecution against the same Catholic faith had arisen in France, after the revolution of 1789, Lord S―, who had for a long time resided in one of the most religious and loyal provinces, seeing the approach of these bad times of proscription and danger threatening his French relations, offered to receive them under his own roof, where they would be secure from all danger. Many accepted his offer, and I shall never forget the little French colony which I saw in his hospitable mansion.

We happened to be there one Christmas day. On the eve, branches of holly, with their berries resembling pearls of coral, had been placed over the entrance door of the castle. Glees had been sung in the evening in the hall, to celebrate Christmas, one of the choruses, which I shall never forget, and which was sung to a gay and lively tune, was

The merry merry time,

The merry merry time,

Bless the merry merry Christmas time.

In France, in most of our chateaux, the chapels have not the greatest care taken of them; such is not the case in England: many there, like David and Solomon, think that the house of God ought to be better than their own. more than one castle, where the chapels are adorned with a magnificence almost And I might cite regal. At SHall, at W- Castle, they are not quite so splendid, but still they are very neat and becoming,—the altar, the tabernacle, the seats, the torches, were of polished mahogany, with gilt ornaments, and a thick carpet of the most brilliant colors covered the steps of the little sanctuary: without was snow and cold, within this sacred enclosure, every thing neat, warm and comfortable. In the gallery facing the altar, reserved places were surrounded with curtains of crimson silk; behind this veil were the organ and singers, Lady S—————, my mother's sister, Lady G-, her daughter, and her nieces formed this family choir. That time is long past-since the Christmas feast, many a day of death-many an All Souls day has flown by-many of those who sang then before the altar at S Hall, are now singing before their God in heaven-many years, many vicissitudes of fortune have befallen me since that merry Christmas time. Since then I have heard the musical masses of Mozart and Rossini; but neither all these years, nor all these different changes of fortune, nor all these great talents, nor all these solemnities, have been able to obliterate from my memory the Christmas mass sung in exile.

Even now, methinks I hear the Adeste fideles sung by the sweet voices of the ladies at the offertory; and, in describing Christmas, I could not but recall the occasion to my mind.

In England there are the Christmas-boxes, which correspond with our new year's gilt. The Church also begins her year from the advent of the Nativity of our Saviour, and it is with great reason she does so. Every day of the Christian year ought to derive its origin from Christ's coming upon earth. Some great painter, I cannot call to mind who it was, in a painting of the Nativity, has represented all the light proceeding from the body of the divine child. Thus it ought to be, with regard to time. The Christian's first day ought to begin from the divinely illuminated time of Christ's Nativity.

SCENES IN THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.

ST. PAUL, (Continued.)

AFTER the council at Jerusalem St. Paul visited the churches, bearing to all the decrees of the council, the earliest official document of the Church, preceding even the gospels in its diffusion: for till then the gospel had been preached by word of mouth. Heaven directed the path of St. Paul, diverting him from cities

"Pass

to which he sought to go, and by visions bidding him go to Macedonia. over to Macedonia and help us," said a native of that country to St. Paul. Obedient to the divine call, the apostle sailed from Troas to Samothracia and thence to Neapolis and Philippi.

This city, near the lovely plains traversed by the Strymon, on which the fate of the Roman empire had been decided, was the frontier town of Macedonia. Its lovely situation, its mines and manufactures, made it a thriving town, and here for some days the apostle and his companions abode. When the sabbath came they passed out of the idolatrous city, in which no synagogue' even rose to the God of truth, and as they roamed along the river bank they came to an assemblage chiefly of women, evidently united for prayer. The retired spot, the day prepared them for the words of St. Paul. Setting down he addressed them, announcing the gospel of Jesus Christ: nor in vain; Lydia, a pious woman of Thyatira, a seller of purple dye-stuffs, listened to his words, and yielding to the influence of grace sought baptism; her family too joined her, and when the waters of remission had bedewed their brows Lydia humbly besought the apostle to make her house. his abode during his stay in Philippi. "If," said she, "you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come into my house and abide there."