with icy particles brilliant like diamonds, and the twigs of the trees glittered with crystal frost which had gathered on them during the previous night. Yes, yes, that was beautiful; but you have not guessed right! You must try again, mother!"

"

Very good, then it reminds you of your skating with Peter Hemskerk on the frozen, glassy lake? I know you enjoyed that very much; although you always returned home half frozen."

"No, mother, no, that is not it! It was very fine, I know, to skim on the lake, and dart right through among the crowd of well-dressed people who whirled on their skates over the smooth ice; and there was much hearty laughing when here and there one tumbled over. And Peter is a good fellow, for he drew me nicely after him on the little sled. But you have not guessed right, mother; you must try again."

"Is it possible! Then it is not so easily guessed. You have given me a hard riddle to solve," said his mother smilingly. "Perhaps the snow reminds you of the large snow-man which Peter made in the yard?" 'Heyday! That was a fine snow-man; especially when Peter had put on his head the large three-masted bonnet of red pasteboard, and made for him a large, large red mouth, and a monstrous moustache, and such awfully large eyes, and put in his face a red turnip for a nose! Yes, he looked very funny, mother; but-you have not hit on the right thing yet!"

"Then I must confess myself beaten, Jonathan !" said Mrs. Monkenwyk. "I can think of nothing else of which the falling snow could remind you."

"But the principal thing, mother, the principal thing! Just remember! No, I can't tell you-you must guess it!"

Mrs. Monkenwyk had long ago seen in what direction Jonathan's thought were running, as any one might have judged from the calm, stolen smiles which played on her rosy lips; but Jonathan did not ob serve it. Thus held at bay, he could finally no longer retain his secret, for it nearly burst his heart; and springing from the settee at the window into the arms of his mother, he exclaimed aloud:

"Christmas! Christmas! Christmas! That now in four weeks it will be Christmas, and that the Christmas-tree will be lighted up, and that the Kristkindlein will bring me beautiful presents--of this the snow, whirling down without, reminds me; for surely this is the pleasantest thing the winter can bring us. Christmas, mother! Hey! how strange that you could not at once guess this !"

"Who can think of everything ?" replied his mother with the same stolen smile. "And who knows whether the Kristkindlein will visit us this year? If the children during the year have not been pious and obedient he will pass by the house, and hold tight shut the bag which contains all the Christmas blessings, and which he is wont to scatter over the tables! Who knows, who knows Jonathan, how you will fare this Christmas?"

O mother, you are jesting with me!" replied the boy laughing, and hid his face in her bosom. "I am now no more so simple as in former years! Now I go to school, and know what Kristkindlein it is that covers for us the Christmas table! You are it, mother, you and father!" "I, and father," repeated his mother; and her mild, tender counte

nance assumed an earnest expression. "I and father! Very true! But, Jonathan, since you are so smart, as you say you are, you have, no doubt, also reflected from whose hand nevertheless at last all good gifts come all, the the little and the great, which are enjoyed by us, that we may live and be happy? How, my child ?"

Yes, mother, I know it! Every gift comes from God! This our school-master taught us; and you, too, have long ago told me."

"True, Jonathan! and so God has also given us His Son, the Saviour of the world, through whom every blessing, and all our joy, has come to us, and none the less also the joy and the blessings which good children feel in expectation of holy Christmas. We both, myself and your father, are only the instruments which the Kristkindlein employs; and so you see, Jonathan, that it is at last none other than the Saviour of the world, that spreads the table for children on the glad festival, and kindles the variegated lights on the Christmas-tree."

Jonathan listened attentively, reflected a short time on the words of his mother, and then earnestly said: "You are right mother; and I will never again laugh when you talk to me of the Kristkindlein, for I now see that I am not yet wise as I thought I was.”

"Well for you will it be, my child, if you shall always think thus," answered his mother;" for all the wisdom of man is nothing but ignorance, or knowledge in part, in the eyes of the Lord, who alone is the beginning and end of all wisdom."

Jonathan returned to the window, looked out again into the falling snow, and gave himself up to the flow of his own thoughts, which still ever led him on toward the gradually approaching happy festival of t: Christmas. In imagination he already saw before him the Christmas-tree covered with a hundred lights, and all kinds of sugar devices, and all the various beautiful things which were the end of his wishes and longings. Nothing did he desire more than a mill, with regular wheels, turning when sand or water is poured on it, with flour chests and round mill stones, with miller and mill-boy in white flowered coats; and, besides this, a pretty stable with oxen and cows, and one with four brown horses in it, a ladder wagon with wool-sacks on it going toward town to market, and a poultry yard with chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys and peacocks -in short, just such a mill as the one he had visited with his mother the previous Summer, and where he had been four full weeks to breathe the fresh country air that he might the sooner recover from the effects of the measles by which he had been confined to the house during nearly half the spring. To possess such a mill in miniature was his greatest wish, together with many other wishes which might sound very extravagant to such as did not know how rich Jonathan's parents were, and besides, that they had only this one child, whom very naturally they loved with great tenderness.

Mr. Monkenwyk, senior, the father of Jonathan, was a wealthy commercial merchant in Amsterdam. He owned a large three-story house on the market place, with side and back buildings stored with large quantities of every kind of wares, coffee, sugar, spices from distant India, and all kinds of other products from strange lands; he had three trading ships on the sea; even the mill, where Jonathan and his mother in the preceding summer had spent such pleasant days, belonged to

him; in his counting-room ten clerks were employed, and a chief bookkeeper attended to his settlements-and as thus, Mr. Monkenwyk had money in abundance, it may be well believed that he regarded no expense, when the object was to prepare for his only son a happy Christmas. Only, Jonathan must know nothing of what is doing before Christmas bas come, that he may the more enjoy the surprise; and hence his mother always gave a very doubtful look whenever he spake of his wishes, and expressed all kinds of guesses and fears in reference to them, so that Jonathan, the nearer Christmas approached, only became more doubtful whether even a single one of his wishes would be fulfilled.

Very often did he speak of the matter to Peter Hemskerk. Peter was the son of the coachman, and although he was several years older than Jonathan, he was his school-companion, and his best friend; for Peter was goodness, kindness, and friendliness itself, and withal a skilful, and dexterous youth, who was ever ready to please his young Master, gathering his wishes from his very eyes. Did Jonathan wish to take a walk in the free open country, Peter walked with him; did he wish to have a bird which he had heard sing in the grove, or whose beautiful feathers had attracted his fancy, Peter caught it for him; in short, Peter was Jonathan's factotum and prime minister, and whatever lay on Jonathan's heart he entrusted without reserve to his faithful comrade, the honest Peter.

The same was the case with the wishes, hopes, and fears in regard to the coming Christmas, and the presents it was likely to bring.

"What do you think Peter," asked Jonathan once more, and for the hundredth time, the day before Christmas--" will the mill come or not?" "I do not know," replied Peter laughing slyly to himself. Monkenwyk has confided nothing of the kind to me."

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Mr.

Ah, Peter, surely you know more than you are willing to tell me! Have you seen it-the mill ?"

"With no eye have I seen it, Jonathan! You are a funny boy. Do you think that your father, my Lord Morkenwyk, would entrust his secrets to me, an insignificant youth, the son of his coachman ?"

O, be still Peter, I do not mean that. But you are so cunning, and see everything that is going on; and surely you have also seen the mill !" Peter shook his head.

"Nothing of it Peter? Not any part of it?"

Peter shook his head again.

"Not even the wheels? Or the mill-stones ?"

Peter shook his head still more firmly.

"Ah, Peter you are good for nothing !" cried Jonathan, and was near breaking out in tears.

But Peter laughed, drew him on his lap, and said: "you are a funny boy, Jonathan. Do you see; if even I knew everything that is to be given you at Christmas, I would not tell you the smallest word of it. And why? Because you would not have so much pleasure in it if you knew beforehand what the Kristkindlein would bring. Patience, Jonathan!"

"But if I get no mill, I will not care anything for the whole of Christmas!" said Jonathan.

"Do you see! now you have spoken like a foolish Jonathan," an

swered Peter. "We must be grateful for all things. What if I should speak as you do? Think of this Jonathan, The Kristkindlein brings nothing at all to me; at best, perhaps, a few nuts and apples; and see! I am still satisfied. Then be a wise, good, and sensible Jonathan, and not an ungrateful, murmuring boy, or you shall see that I will be angry with you, and will have nothing more to do with you."

"Oh Peter, you must not speak so," cried Jonathan, quite changed all at once, and frightened by this threat, which was not at all earnestly intended as such. "No, Peter, you must remain friendly to me, for if I actually get the mill, with whom shall I carry on grinding but with you? No, Peter, I am the miller, and you shall be the mill-boy! That will be fun, Peter-when the wheels turn, and the mill clatters klip, klap, and the stones whirl around, and we pour in the grain-Peter, I cannot imagine anything finer than that!"

"Why, you can play with Philip, Jonathan," replied Peter, balancing the boy on his knee-" with Philip Mappel. He suits you better than I, for he is always dressed in good clothes, and is the nephew of the chief book-keeper, whilst I am only the coachman's son. Play with Philip Mappel, Jonathan !"

"No, I do not wish to!

Not with Philip," repeated the boy and crept more fondly and closely up to Peter.

"And why not, Jonathan? He also is always friendly toward you, and gives you sweet-meats and candies as often as he sees you."

"Yes, that is all true; but see, Peter, I still do not love him as I do you." "Why so, Jonathan? you must have some reason for this?" "A reason, Peter? yes certainly I have a reason!"

"What is it? What kind of a reason, Jonathan !"

"I have more than one reason," replied the boy thoughtfully. "First, Philip does not play as pretty as you-not by far. Then, when I go walking with him he is soon tired, and climb like you he cannot, nor cas he catch a bird; and in winter on the ice he is soon cold, so that he does not hold out half an hour; and then, do you see, Peter-all this is still no matter-but he despises poor people, whose clothes are not as good as his, and this is the worst! He has no good heart, Peter, and he is only friendly toward me because my father is rich and has much money, and because his uncle is chief book-keeper."

"

Why, Jonathan, this is foolish stuff which you are talking! Then you also think that I am friendly to you only because I am a son of your father's coachman ?"

"No, no, you dumb good Peter, that I do not think at all," answered Jonathan. "You know well enough that this is not so. You are good to me because you have a good heart. You are good to all, also to poor people; but Philip is not. Do you see! only lately we met a little girl quite poorly clad, who asked us for alms, and she looked so miserable and hungry, that I felt pity for her; but Philip spoke harshly to the poor child, and when it did not immediately go away, but once more with tears in her eyes extended her hand, he lifted his walking cane, and would have struck the poor child if I had not prevented him. I gave the child my purse, and then Jonathan himself broke off his

story, and laughed aloud.

"Well, what then," asked Peter, "what did you then?"

"It had displeased

"Ah, Peter, that was fun," continued Jonathan. me that Philip acted so badly toward the poor, little, shivering beggarchild, and then something came into my head, and I asked Philip whether he had not some candies; and then he drew a large paper full from his pocket and offered them to me. I took them, but instead of eating them, I called the poor little girl to me, and told her to spread her apron, and poured all the candies into her lap, perhaps thirty or forty, Peter; and then you should have seen the sour face which Philip made when the little girl ran away with his candies! It was worth a laugh, Peter, you

may believe it."

Then Jonathan laughed anew, and Peter joined in; but soon Peter again grew serious and said:

66

'True, it was not proper for Philip to threaten the little girl with bis cane; but you see that, toward you, he was still immediately kind, and gave you what you asked of him. Thus you have still no reason to be displeased with him."

66

Nor am I exactly angry with him, Peter," answered Jonathan, "but I do not love so well to play with him as I do with you. Do you see Peter, if I were poor, Philip would not be kind toward me, but would treat me in the same manner as he did the little girl, but you would not -you would ever remain my faithful Peter. This I know you would do, and if I had not a penny in my pocket; and for this reason, Peter, for this reason, I love you.'

"It may all be as you say, Jonathan," replied Peter thoughtfully. "It may all be, but God forbid that Philip may ever be put to this test, to show whether your words are true. Moreover you, are after all, not so dumb a Jonathan as I had thought, but on the contrary a very cunning and sly Jonathan; and because you love me as you say, we will let matters stand as they are between us, and we will remain good friends, and play with one another as before. But the mill, Jonathan, only put that out of your head, for nothing will come of it !"

"It would be a pity if it should turn out that you are right," answered the boy. "But if it must be so, then Peter, we will still not let it spoil our dear Christmas. Is it no mill, then it will be something else. To-morrow, Peter, we shall know! Hey day! to-morrow about this time, -to-morrow my heart shall be glad! And you also shall be in the joy, Peter. I have already asked mother that it may be so, and she has promised me that she will call you in when the gift business comes off. If it were only to-morrow evening now, Peter !"

"You must have patience, Jonathan-One day and one night are Boon past," said Peter. "And now, away! I have yet some work to do. Go to your bed, and pray well before you sleep, and dream something pleasant, that to-morrow you may be fresh and in good spirits. Good night, Jonathan."

"Good night, Peter," responded the boy, and went.

All night long he dreamed of wind-mills and of water-mills, and also heard the hearty clattering, klip klap; only it was not the mills that clattered but the window shutter at his sleeping room at which the cold north east wind was prying. Still, Jonathan slept till broad day light; and now at length the day had come to which he had looked longingly forward for weeks past.