A WONDERFUL STONE. A MR. MENINGER of New Orleans, while visiting in the town of Chilpanzingo, Mex., saw a rock there which he—and others—says foretells rain twenty-four hours in advance! In fair weather it is grayish, very smooth and cold, but when it is going to rain it becomes a dingy red at the base, pink at the top, and it becomes warmer and warmer till the rain falls. If there is much lightning, the stone becomes charged (filled) like an electrical jar, so that you cannot safely approach it. After the rain it goes back to its first state of color and coldness. L. THE FIRST CHRISTMAS. WHY so soon with flocks returning? O, dear father, tell us why: Scarce the night lamps ceased their burning, Scarce the stars dimmed in the sky When we heard the distant bleating Of the flock come o’er the lea; While the stars were still retreating Thou wert coming o’er the lea; Home so early in the morning! Sheep and lambs so fast you’re leading To the fold at early dawning, At the time of sweetest feeding! Ill, dear father, art thou? Surely Suffering art thou? Tell us true! Has some lambie been unruly— Wandered far away from view? Must thou go across the mountain, Starting in the morning gray, Search by vale, and rock, and fountain For the lost one, gone astray? But thy face is bright and beaming, And thy step is free and glad, And thy eyes with joy are gleaming Surely nothing makes thee sad! Thus she chattered to her father, Shepherd of Judean plain; Eager for some reason given Which might satisfy her brain; But the father, heart o’erflowing With the story he could tell, Felt the spirit in him burning— Felt his soul within him swell— And, with tender touch, down bending Gently drew her to his breast; His life-calling sweetly lending Skill for what he loved the best. Then his home flock, like the other, In the home fold where they dwelt— Father, children, precious mother— All before Jehovah knelt; Knelt to thank the covenant-keeping God of Jacob, who alone In their waking and their sleeping, Safely shelters all his own. This—and then began the story Of the night before that morn, When the angels came from glory, Telling that the Christ was born. (_The story._) On the hillside near our flocks were sleeping, While we, reclining by, our watch were keeping; The sun had set in a glow of splendor, And the stars looked down so pure and tender That we felt a hush pervading Every breast; for the fading Of the day had been so slow, And the twilight’s gentle glow Had left the earth so still That over plain and hill A gentle sleep seemed holding all As quiet as beneath a pall