get up in the mornings in time to be present at the Holy Sacrifice. But she was most careful to be at the door of the office punctually as the clock was striking.

II.

"Where shall we go this evening, Lillie ?"

It was a Sunday afternoon in summer and Charley had come, as usual, to take Lillie for a walk. It was very hot. The Dutch have a saying which very forcibly conveys an idea of excessive heat. They will tell you that "The sparrows were yawning on the roofs." That is more than an equivalent for our old phrase, that "The sun was splitting the trees," for the heat that could make a sparrow keep still, long enough to yawn, must be intense. So it was now, and Lillie and Charley agreed that walking was not to be thought of on such a day. At length they decided to take the train to Howth.

Arrived there, Charley took the road to the beach and was on the point of hiring a boat when his companion, with white face and startled eyes, caught him by the sleeve exclaiming : "Oh! don't, Charley. Not to-day."

"Not to-day! Why?"

"I am afraid."

"Afraid, and the sea just like a sheet of glass! Why, I have known you to venture out days when I felt rather nervous, and even the boatmen looked grave. Girls are the most inconsistent beings on the face of the earth. They hate to-day what they loved yesterday."

"I don't hate the sea, but ".

"But what?"

"I lost Mass to-day, and I dare not go out in a little boat like that."

Lillie looked the picture of misery. Suddenly raising her head, she asked:

'Were you at Mass to-day, Charley ?"

"Of course I was. A friend of mine, a very fine fellowyou know him-Leslie-he is captain of our football team; he goes to Mass every day; and even after the biggest match of last season he was up next morning, as gay as a lark, and off to the church. Proposed knocking me up on his way, but it was no go; I simply could not get out in time. But by George, I draw the line at losing Mass on Surdays."

The girl's head drooped lower. Charley's heart melted

at the sight of her misery. "Cheer up, Lillie. come for a row, let us walk to the top of the Hill. to be a breeze up there."

If you won't

There is sure

After much panting for breath and many stops, they reached the summit, and, sinking down in the purple heather, enjoyed the well-earned rest.

It was a lovely scene. Sparkling in the summer sun, the sea lay beneath them, its surface unbroken by a single sail, blue, infinitely blue, with, here and there, a tuft of foamy white. Only here and there, for to-day it seemed as if the tide was "too full for sound or foam.” Yet there was sound, but only the lulling, pleasing plash of the water lapping the base of the cliffs, and the occasional boom, boom, as the incoming tide dashed into one of the many tiny caves. There were few strollers, the usual crowd of city people being probably deterred by the heat from attempting the ascent.

Lillie's spirits rose somewhat, as she felt the breeze from the sea. It cooled her flushed cheeks, and lifted the wavy brown hair from her forehead. It was impossible to be wholly sad on such a day. Presently she cried:

"Oh, Charley, look at that sea-gull down there; isn't he lovely? He seems to be resting. The waves are rocking him just like a baby in a cradle."

"His heart upon the heart of ocean

Lay learning all its mystic motion,
And throbbing to the throbbing sea,"

quoted Charley, airily.

"Those are lovely lines. Are they your own?"

They are Mrs. Browning's. Mine! did you say? Don't hint at such a thing, my dear girl; it would be disastrous." "How? What do you mean?"

"Do you know my Uncle Jerry ?"

"No."

"Well, my Uncle Jerry keeps a shop on one of the quays. He is supposed to be wealthy, and my mother has hopes that he will make me his heir, as he is an old bachelor. I remember once when I was a little chap, I scribbled some verses. My poor father was quite proud of them; and, the next time uncle paid us one of his rare visits, he produced them for his inspection. We were unprepared for what followed. Taking the paper from my father, he looked over it for a minute or so; then laid it down, took off his spectacles with great deliberation, and put them carefully into their case without uttering a word. Meanwhile we were waiting for the praise which we felt was

coming. I had an idea that my respected relative was so enraptured by my attempt, that he was rendered speechless. I was soon undeceived. Turning to my father, he at length broke the silence. Look here, John,' said he, this is your eldest boy, and I am surprised that a sensible man like you should encourage him to lose his time with such nonsense. Why, man, if he is not checked in the beginning, he may turn out one of those poet chaps with the long hair and the threadbare coats fellows who are not able to earn enough to pay for their lodging. Look at me,' here he tapped the breast of his superfine cloth Sunday suit. Where should I be now, if I had spent my time writing stuff like that, instead of looking after my customers and attending to my shop? In the workhouse, very likely. Tear them up, John, tear them up, or you will be sorry. Take my word for that.' Here my uncle stopped to take breath, and my father, taking advantage of the pause, packed me off to bed. There were no more verses written. And I who, with a little encouragement, might have become the Poet of the Age, remain in obscurity. Amute inglorious Milton.'

Lillie laughed heartily at her companion's tragic tone. This was precisely what Charley wanted. They chatted pleasantly until it was time to see about tea, after which they turned their faces cityward.

III.

The pleasant summer was soon over. Autumn came clothed in richest raiment. The hedges were robed in parple and gold. Then the trees began to shed their leaves, and December found them gaunt and bare, their long skeleton arms creaking and moaning in the blast.

One morning Lillie, at her place in the office, heard a gentleman speaking to her employer. One scrap of the conversation reached her with startling distinctness :

"Yes, as you say, Mr. Shaw, there is very little time to look into the matter; this is the 8th of December."

With the matter that required to be looked into, Lillie had nothing to do. The words that sounded on her ears like a knell were : "This is the 8th of December." The feast of the Immaculate Conception! And she, Lillie Gray, a Child of Mary, had not been to Mass that morning-had merely said a few hurried prayers, before leaving home. Memories of other days came to her with extraordinary vividness. The nuns, Sister Paula, her young companions, the hymns they

used to sing. How careless, how wicked she had become ! And then conscience whispered: "The day is not yet over, you can attend the evening devotions at one of the churches." In order to quiet the persistent, small voice, Lillie made a halfhearted resolution that she would go to Benediction after she left the office. But alas! when she arrived at the house where she lodged, she found a note from Charley asking her to meet him at half-past seven, to go to the theatre. Remembering where she had purposed going, there was a struggle.

"How unfortunate that Charley has selected that evening! Well, this is Friday. I can go to church twice on Sunday, that will be during the octave, and almost as good as going on the feast."

Thus she reasoned, and then she went to the play. But in spite of the gay scene, the music, the lights, the showily dressed crowd, she did not feel happy.

The play began. Bewildered at first, then shocked at what she saw and heard, Lillie looked all round helplessly as if for a means of escape. The first act was not a long one, and when the curtain fell, Charley rose, and saying, Come, Lillie," he left the theatre. He was silent for some minutes, then he said:

"I must apologize for taking you to that play, Lillie, I am altogether to blame. I had no idea what it was like; I am thoroughly disgusted."

And under his breath, Lillie heard him mutter something very like "d—d rot."

"The last time we had a very nice amusing play, a Japanese thing," said Lillie.

"Oh! yes, the 'Mikado,' that was fin without coarseness. And there were others, the 'Gondoliers '-you liked that opera ?"

"Yes, it was very pretty," the young girl replied. "Why can't they keep to plays like those, instead of the wretched one they are presenting to-night ? "

Saying good-bye at Lillie's door, Charley was about to make another apology for the mishap of the evening. Lillie interrupted him :

"Don't say another word about it. I deserve to be disappointed for thinking of going to a theatre to-night."

Then she told the young man what day it was, and how she used to spend it long ago. And oh how long ago it

seemed!

IV.

It was Christmas morning, and the church was thronged with worshippers. The scene outside was a dreary one, the streets were slushy after a slight fall of snow. But here all was warmth and colour. The glistening leaves of the evergreens wreathed the stately pillars, and hung in festoons round the High Altar which was ablaze with lights. Mass had just begun. Soon from the choir there came a joyous burst of melody. Gloria in excelsis Deo-the angel's song, the song first heard on the lonely hillside of Bethlehem. Et in terra pax hominibus.

Lillie was in the church, and though not wholly uninfluenced by the hallowed festival, she was far from feeling that holy peace proclaimed by the angels to be the dower of men of good-will at the advent of the Infant Saviour.

When the time came for Holy Communion and the bell rang for the thrice-repeated Domine non sum dignus, Lillie remained in her place. She dared not approach the altar. It was now many months since she had been to confession. How far had she strayed from the path followed with such exactitude in her childhood! And yet her soul was not stained by anything except the Mass lost on that unforgotten Sunday in the preceding summer. But by degrees she had become careless and lukewarm.

And now Mass was over, and the old familiar Adeste Fideles rang through the church, the dear old Christmas hymn, with its reiterated invitation-Venite adoremus Dominum. And they did adore Him, with all their hearts, those good people. And tears were in many eyes, when memory called up from the shadow-land the loved ones who once knelt there with them to pray, and formed the happy group who sat around the home-fireside, to make merry, as befitted the glad feast of the Nativity.

L

V.

Arise, make haste, my love, my dove, my beautiful one, and come. For the winter is now past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers have appeared in our land."

How beautifully the words of the Canticle describe the coming of Spring! All down the centuries, year after year unfailingly, the Holy Spirit has renewed the face of the earth. From death and corruption, arise life and beauty.