We love to think of Bethlehem, That little mountain town, To which, on earth's first Christmas Day, Our blessed Lord came down. A lowly manger for His bed, The cattle near in stall, There, cradled close in Mary's arms, He slept, the Lord of all. If we had been in Bethlehem, We too had hasted fain To see the Babe whose little face Knew neither care nor pain. Like any little child of ours, He came unto His own, Through Cross and shame before Him stretched,-- His pathway to His Throne. If we had dwelt in Bethlehem, We would have followed fast, And where the Star had led our feet Have knelt ere dawn was past. Our gifts, our songs, our prayers had been An offering, as He lay, The blessed Babe of Bethlehem, In Mary's arms that day. Now breaks the latest Christmas Morn! Again the angels sing, And far and near the children throng Their happy hymns to bring. All heaven is stirred! All earth is glad! For down the shining way, The Lord who came to Bethlehem, Comes yet, on Christmas Day. A WESTERN CHRISTMAS IN THE OLD DAYS. BY MRS. W. H. CORNING. Christmas week there was no school, but such a succession of dining days, and visiting days, and day parties, and night parties, that Fanny, who looked forward to the week as a season of rest, thought that the regular routine of school duties would be less fatiguing. Christmas at La Belle Prairie was the one jubilee of the year, something to be talked about for six months beforehand, and to be remembered as long after. It was a time of feasting and recreation for both master and servant. Days before, preparations commenced in the kitchen. Various smells issued from thence--savory smells of boiled, baked, and roasted meats; and sweet delicious smells of warm pastry and steaming cakes. Aunt Tibby was rolling pie-crust or stirring cake all day long, and the chopping of sausage-meat, the pounding of spices, and the beating of eggs were constantly heard. Everything was carried on with the greatest secrecy. The children were all kept out of the kitchen, and when "somefin' good" was to be transferred therefrom to Miss Car'line's store-room, Aunt Tibby came sailing in, holding it high above the reach of the curious little heads. "I don't care," said Cal. "There's six pound-cakes all in a row on the store-room shelf. I see 'em when ma opened the door; and Marthy says one of 'em got currants in it, and there's a little shoat thar roasted whole. O! how I wish Christmas was come."