He looked about, but he saw only the old woman, the lame boy, the mother with her child, and the beautiful woman who could not pray. He turned back to the painted child and the light, and looked, and looked; he stared his eyes blind; at last he could not see; all seemed to fade, to go. The tired eyelids fell; his head drooped down on his mother's arm, and he slept. But his eyes still held the light, and he dreamed. It seemed to him that the beautiful pictured light grew and broadened into a great shining. "Surely," thought the little boy, "the real Christ-child is near! but where? not here; here is only the old woman and the lame boy and the others praying. But the great light--shining over all, above every head, in shining rings! how beautiful!" And he thought he cried out, "See, you have the light, all of you! Do not pray, but be glad!" They did not hear, and prayed on. "But the Christ-child--where is the real Christ-child?" he wondered. He thought he stood up and strained his eyes over the bent heads of the praying people, and while he looked he saw myriad circles of light begin to glow; and lo! there, near--so near--was the real Christ-child,--only it was the old woman. Dreams are strange! Her bent, trembling body seemed going, fading, and there knelt a shining being,--the real Christ-child; yet it was the old woman. And the lame boy, the hurt creature, as he looked, melted into the shadow of his radiant, perfect self, and shined too. The mother with her child grew bright, bright; and each of the kneeling, praying ones was a perfect shining child! The light grew into glory; the fullness of joy broke into singing; angels, heavenly hosts, singing, "The Christ is here,--here in the world!" But what--? Who--? Why, his mother, to be sure, leaning above him. "Wake, Hansei; hear the music! See the choir boys in white, like angels." Hansei opened his eyes wide. The glorious Christmas morning was beaming full upon him through the great window, and he saw the light of the new day touching the bent old woman, the lame boy, the mother with her child, the beautiful woman beyond, and the pictured Christ. He heard clear voices, "Peace on earth!" But the dream--the dream! "I have found the real Christ-child," he whispered. Ay, to save and redeem and restore him, ... snatch Saul the mistake, Saul the failure, the ruin he seems now,--and bid him awake From the dream, the probation, the prelude, to find himself set Clear and safe in new light and new life,--a new harmony, yet To be run, and continued, and ended--who knows?--or endure! --_From Browning's "Saul."_ [Illustration: _By Bartolomé Estéban Murillo_ THE DIVINE SHEPHERD] SAUL AND DAVID. The great King Saul of Israel was sad, and the sorrow grew and grew until it spread abroad through the whole nation. Even it came to the simple folk who minded sheep and lived in the far hills.