hour. In an upper chamber of an humble dwelling in the little city of Nazareth—a place of so mean repute that it had become a byeword among the Israelites-sat a young girl in the first bloom of womanhood. The evening breeze played among the rich tresses that shaded her brow, as resting her head against the open lattice, her dark and earnest eyes gazed upon the coming stars. The expression of her whole form and face was spiritual. A half opened scroll was upon her knee, which the shades of evening had compelled her to relinquish; her distaff, lying unheeded by her side, told of her daily occupation, while the scanty, humble furniture around proclaimed her one of Israel's lowliest daughters. What could have been the thoughts of that heart? Were they, too, full of indignation at Judah's departed glory? Or did she, too, weep for the sins of her nation, and meekly bow in submission to the punishment that had fallen upon her people? Did she, too, remember the prophecy, and did she believe that the hour was at hand, when the sun of Israel should again arise in unclouded splendour ?-But why does the color deepen upon her cheek, the tear tremble in her eye? Why does she bend her head and fold her hands, as if in humble supplication? What can have been the sin of that pure mind? Has she dwelt too long or too earnestly upon her coming happiness with the chosen of her heart? Has she pictured to herself, in more glowing colors than is becoming a Jewish maiden not yet summoned to the house of her husband, the love and care that should hallow their dwelling? Or has she, too, remembered that David was among her ancestors, and dared to hope that she might be the appointed one from among the mothers of Israel? Such indeed had been the aspiration of the moment. Yet it was but for a moment, for the lowly heart of the maiden sank abashed at her own temerity, and prostrated itself before her fathers' God. Not long was the suppliant without a message of peace, and once more her face is raised to the stars, with even more of spiritual serenity than before.

Unheeded the hours of the night passed on, still reclined the maiden against the open window, still did her thoughts recur to the promised Messiah, when lo! a soft yet dazzling light illumines her chamber, and a voice beyond description musical breaks upon the solemn stillness of the hour, filling her whole soul with contending emotions of wonder, fear and adoration. "Hail! thou that art highly favored," it said, “blessed art thou among women, for the Lord is with thee."

The voice had ceased ere the startled girl had gathered courage to gaze upon the being, who had thus as it were answered to her inmost thoughts. For a moment she feared it was some spirit sent to rebuke her for the lofty aspirations in which she had been indulging, and tremblingly she threw herself upon her knees, and called aloud upon the God of Israel. "Fear not, Mary," again breathed that voice," for thou art chosen to be the mother of Israel's Saviour, the Son of the Highest, to whose kingdom there shall be no end." Before the sounds had ceased all terror had passed from the heart of the "childlike virgin," and meekly crossing her hands upon her breast, she dared to lift her head to gaze upon the celestial visitant who had uttered these strange yet joyful tidings; and could she still have doubted, that gaze alone would have confirmed her faith. Midway in the humble chamber stood that bright and glorious being, who waits ever at the right hand of the Omnipotent to do his bidding to the children of earth. Love, sympathy, compassion, joy and adoration, all were mingled in the heavenly smile that sent confidence into the heart of Mary, as she reverently lifted her eyes to him who had saluted her, as "blessed among women." Her imprisoned words at length found utterance, and while she tremblingly believed, she confessed the trouble of her heart. "Lord, how can these things be? Behold, I have not yet departed from my father's house." Still the benignant smile beamed from the angel's face, as he finished his mission of love." Yet doubt not, Mary; with God nothing is impossible. His spirit shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee, and that holy one that shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God. Not to thee alone have I been sent, but to the husband of thine aged cousin Elizabeth, and she too shall become a mother in Israel." While yet the angel lingered, Mary, raising her clasped hands to heaven, fearlessly committed herself to her Father's guidance. "Behold the handmaid of the Lord," she uttered," be it unto me according to thy word !"-and bowing her head upon the low cushion she had quitted, she strove to ponder in her mind the mysteries she had heard; but exhausted nature could endure no more, and the stars looked down upon the sleeping face of this trusting child of Heaven.

THE VISIT TO ELIZABETH.

With the morning's sun, the virgin of Nazareth awoke. Her soul was still too full of the vision of the night, to even wonder that she should be there at that hour and in that garb. Then the fear that it might have been a dream disturbed for a time her first rapturous thoughts. "But the angel spake of Elizabeth," said she musingly; "I will arise, and go to her; she can satisfy my doubts; of her sympathy at least I am sure." And springing from the floor, she hastily disposed of her few household cares, and made herself ready for immediate departure. A short time sufficed to complete her eager preparations, and before the sun had reached its noonday height, accompanied by a single servant, she had turned her face towards the hill country, where was the abode of Elizabeth.

What tongue can describe the rapture of Mary, when at the close of her long journey she entered the dwelling of her cousin, and her salutation was answered in the words of the angel who had spoken to her in her chamber at Nazareth! "Blessed art thou among women broke from the lips of the matron, as reverently and affectionately she stretched forth her arms to her young kinswoman, who bent her head for the kiss of welcome; "whence is this, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? Blessed is she that believed,"-she continued, a shade of sadness mingling with the exultation that illumined her aged features, as her eye involuntarily glanced upon her husband, who, incapable of speech, dared not so much as approach the young creature whose faith had so far surpassed his own.

Now did Mary believe with her whole soul, and delivering herself up to the enthusiastic adoration which swelled her heart, thrilling words of praise and thanksgiving burst forth from her lips, and the gentle, timid girl became the lofty and inspired prophetess. "Now doth my soul magnify the Lord," she cried, "and my spirit rejoiceth in God my Saviour; for he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden. For behold, henceforth all generations shall call me blessed, for he that is mighty hath done unto me great things; and holy is his name, and his mercy is on them that fear him from generation to generation. He hath shewed strength with his arm, he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree. He hath filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he

hath sent empty away; and he hath holpen his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, as he spake to our fathers, to Abraham and to his seed forever!"

Nor was there but one hour of this holy converse; three precious months had rolled away ere Mary rose to leave her cousin, months devoted to the spiritual intercourse of these two humble beings, chosen by the love and wisdom of the Almighty to be the instruments of salvation to the world. Yet, even they themselves, in their highest aspirations and deepest gratitude, had not conceived the full measure of love prepared for a world that was struggling as it were between life and death.

The months passed quickly, and Mary again crossed the threshold of her home. But here a trial hard to bear awaited her, for there was one whose eager step of welcome was arrested, the joy of whose eye was turned to suspicion, as it rested upon her after her long absence; and breaking away from her entreaties that he would listen to her, he buried his face in his mantle, and rushing forth into the open air, plunged into the recesses of the neighbouring wood.

Did the maiden's faith forsake her at this hour, when all her bright prospects were darkened by the scorn and doubt of him to whom she had clung for love and guidance? Did the disappointment. of her trusting hope that he would believe her true, if she did but ask him, did the fearful fate that awaited her if his love should be turned to hate, and she be delivered over to all the horrors of the law,—did such thoughts disturb her trust in God? Tears, human tears coursed down her cheeks; and angels themselves might have wept, not more from sympathy than from triumph in the constancy of this frail child of earth, as she murmured, "Forsake me not entirely, oh Lord; behold, I am thine handmaiden, be it unto me according to thy word." Far different were the feelings of him who had been so sorely smitten, as buried in the darkest glades of the forest he had sought, he lay upon the ground in all the abandonment of grief. Bitter, anxious thoughts distracted his soul. Could it be that she whom he had almost reverenced could have so fallen from her pure estate?" At least, I will put her privately away," he mentally resolved, rising on his feet, and pacing the narrow space around him, "none but her parents' eyes shall behold the bill of divorcement that I must place in her bosom." For his soul recoiled at the thought of the contempt and scorn and death that would be heaped

upon the unfortunate victim, if he should deliver her up to the rigor of the law. Somewhat relieved by this sad but softened view of his duty, he threw himself again upon the turf, and exhausted by his contending emotions fell asleep.

Ever mindful of the sufferings of his creatures, the Almighty again sent forth his angel to speak peace to his heart-stricken servant. “Fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife," whispered that bright being, as bending to the ear of the sleeping Joseph he revealed to him the will of the Supreme; "fear not, for the power of God has visited her, and thou shalt call her child Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins." And no longer did he fear, for the morning sun found him at the side of Mary, entreating her to enter that home which he had prepared for her, and promising that, while their mutual faith in the promises of Heaven should strengthen with every hour, his love and confidence should guard her against every glance that might flash from the eye of the world's suspicion.

T.

THE WITHERING OF THE FRUITLESS FIG-TREE.

MARK XI. 12-14; ALSO, MATTHEW XI. 18, 19.

THIS is a mysterious act of our Lord. It is of a different character from his other miracles, which have all beneficial ends. Why should he have destroyed a tree which had merely disappointed his hunger; especially when it appears that he had no right to look for fruit from it, "for the time of figs was not yet?"

To begin with the latter of these difficulties; "the time of figs" means, not the time of the first appearance of the fruit, but the time for gathering the ripe fruit. Such is the meaning of a similar form of expression in Matthew xxi. 34, "And when the time of the fruit drew near, he sent his servants to the husbandmen, that they might receive the fruits of it." Here "the time of the fruit" can only mean the time of the ripe fruit. Besides, the tree is spoken of by the Evangelists, (not probably without reason, but with a view of showing why our Lord expected to find fruit on it,) as "having