It was a dreary night in the month of November—the dark spirit-wind which had all day murmured in sullen grandeur the funeral dirge of the departing year among the leafless branches of the mighty forest, as the sun sunk in the cloudy west, and the gray mists of evening closed in around the cheerless earth, swept forth in strains louder and more terrific, until the naked branches of the towering oaks danced in wild glee, as it rushed past them howling along through the caverns of the giant mountains, and playing its rude gambols round their hoary heads, exulting in barbarian triumph over the gentler spirits of earth. But though he had frightened the spirits of song from the woods, and chained the melody of the little brooks, banishing from the laughing fields the spirits of the flowers, and leaving them all barren and desolate—yet some of these sweet fugitives had sought a refuge in the habitations of man—for, in a neat little cottage, sheltered in the valley beneath, one might be seen peeping from the petaled cup of a snowy japonica. And as it looked forth from its pearly bed, when the storm had passed by, sweet delicious tones of a thousand lutes and harps, as touched by the spirits of the sunbeams and showers, burst upon the ear, filling the room with an atmosphere of strange delicious melody. Forth, on aerial pinions, floated the little flower-spirit, and lit upon the mossy sepals of a bursting rose-bud—beneath upon a downy couch lay a sleeping babe—above and around hovered a choir of cherub angels, some playing with its golden locks, and others whispering sweet words of peace and love, parting its rosy lips with a bright, sweet smile. On wings of dreamy light was a shadowy form of beauty inconceivable! Its long, fair hair floated on the rosy air, while encircling its radiant brow was a chaplet of beautiful flowers, sparkling with dew drops fresh from heaven’s own bowers. This bright and glorious being, sent from the presence of the great “I AM!” to guard the footsteps of this precious child, just purified from every stain of earth in the regenerating waters of the sacred font—the image of its God restored; the object of a Saviour’s fondest love; a spectacle for angels and for men.