THE BIRTH OF OUR LADY

MARION J. BRUNOWE

MARION J. BRUNOWE was born in New York City. Her father, a well-known physician, removed with his family to Yonkers, where all now reside. She is a graduate of the famous Academy, Mt. St. Vincent-on-the-Hudson. Her first story was published in the Ave Maria, and the encouragement of the editor of this magazine was of great benefit to her. She has published 'Seven of Us"; "A Lucky Family"; "The Ghost at Our School"; "The Sealed Packet"; "Laughter and Tears"; "Madcap Set at St. Anne's"; "Pearls from Faber"; "Short Stories"; "A Famous Convent School." She writes for many of the leading periodicals of the country.

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In Nazareth, a city of lower Galilee not far from Mount Carmel, there dwelt a just man named Joachim of the tribe of Juda and of the royal race of David. His wife also came of a distinguished line of ancestors, those of the sacerdotal tribe; her name was Anne, which in Hebrew signifies graceful. "They were both," says the chronicler, "just before Jehovah, and walked in the way of His commandments with a perfect heart."

One great sorrow, however, clouded their lives; God had given them no child to comfort their hearts and brighten

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their home. No innocent young eyes had ever smiled up into theirs, no baby arms had ever twined about their necks, no tiny form had ever nestled close against their bosoms. For twenty long years they had besought God with unceasing prayers and unnumbered good deeds to grant them this, the most ardent wish of their hearts. Just as they had about given up hope, and were resigning themselves to a barren and childless old age, their petition was most unexpectedly and most gloriously granted.

Herself the daughter of a

It was about the beginning of the month of Tisri, which is the first month of the civil year of the Jews, and corresponds to September in our reckoning of seasons, that at the dawn of day, a dawn which surely came "furrowing all the orient into gold," a little daughter was born into the family of Joachim and Anne. line of kings, destined to be the Mother of the King of kings, her baby eyes opened not in one of the palaces of her race, but rather in a humble and obscure home in Nazareth of Galilee. Her parents, though so directly descended from the royal line, were of the people, plain and simple in their ways and tastes, and the wealth of love was the only wealth which surrounded the advent of their baby daughter. Her cradle was formed not of gold, as were the cradles of the little Hebrew princes; it was simply constructed of the flexible branches of beautiful trees. Neither was it covered with richly embroidered quilts, perfumed with spikenard, myrrh, and aloes, as was the custom in the houses of the great. No, the little arms which were one day to cradle the

Saviour of the world, were wrapped about in coverings of pure but inexpensive linen.

Among the Israelites it was the custom to assemble the family or kinsfolk on the ninth day, in order to give the new born child its name. On this occasion Joachim, the happiest of fathers, bestowed upon his daughter the name of Miriam (Mary), which in the Syriac language means lady, sovereign, mistress, and in Hebrew, "star of the sea."

"And assuredly," exclaims St. Bernard, "the Mother of God could not have a name more appropriate, nor more expressive of her high dignity, for Mary is in fact that fair and luminous star which shines over the vast and stormy sea of this world."

THE TWO PLOWSHARES

Once upon a time a blacksmith made two plowshares from the same piece of iron. A farmer bought them and put one in his plow, and the other he stored away until he should need it.

Several months later, needing the second one, he took it and carried it to the field. Behold, it was covered with rust. 'What," said the one which had been in use and was as bright as a mirror, "we were both alike once. How is it that you who have been resting are so rusty?"

"It is sloth," said the farmer, "that has made this one rusty and ugly; you who have been working have grown in brightness and beauty."

HOW THE CHRIST FLOWERS CAME

MARY BLANCHE O'SULLIVAN

MISS MARY B. O'SULLIVAN was born at St. John, N. B., educated in St. Vincent's Convent, and graduated from the Provincial Normal School. For some years she taught in the public schools of her native city, and while thus engaged also formed a literary connection, contributing short stories, essays, and descriptive articles to numerous publications in the United States and Canada. In order to devote her time more fully to literary work, Miss O'Sullivan took up her residence in Boston, in 1891, and in the following year became a staff contributor and department editor on Donahue's Magazine. During the editorship of Dr. Henry Austin Adams, Miss O'Sullivan was promoted to the position of associate editor, and on his resignation, in 1898, she assumed the responsible position she holds at present as the editorial head of this popular monthly.

It was Christmas eve in the Black Forest. The whirling snow touched the tree tops; the starry flakes clung to the branches or fluttered down, pure as rose petals wafted about by the breath of angels. Soon the frozen earth was hid from view and a great white world waited, in solemn expectation, the coming of the Christ-Child. Silence lay upon the forest. The charcoal burners tended their smoldering fires and dreamed of home, or, with simple faith, listened for the shepherds' message and the angels' song.

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When the midnight hour was nigh, a sound broke the