THE HOLLY WREATHE.

Tuapeka Times, Volume I, Issue II, 2 January 1869, Page 6

THE HOLLY WREATHE.

It was Christmas Eve in the City of London, and the cold Bleet poured down and the cold wind blew. Tet were the streets crowded with merrymakers, and purchasers for the merrymaking of the blessed Christmas Day The glaring lamps of the butchers' shops filled the streets with radiance ; and the house mother might be seen with eager children in attendance laying in provision for the plum pudding. But the heart of Silas Dew did not rejoice ; he was sad because the love and reverence of men had prevented his money-grubbing on every day of the year. So he shouldered ! his way through the happy crowd, and returned no answering smile to the merry children who laughed up at him. He needed no Christmas dinner ; he was above those follies ; he understood what was really good, and he clave to his money as to a god.

" Won't you buy a wreathe, sir," said a sweej; young voice , and a pale, small face looked imploringly in his ; but he passed on unheeding. "O do buy a wreathe, sir ; mother is so sick, and it's only a penny," again came the plaintive -voice upon his ear ; but his heart was hardened, and with a rude oath and a threat of the police he pushed the child away. So he passed on to his miserable home, and, sitting down in his ragged easy chair, began to ponder over new means of adding to bis wealth. But gradually the old walls seemed to pass away, and he beheld* a strange scene. It was a happy party. There was the mother, buxom and hearty, and the cheerfullooking father surrounded by happy children ; and the man in the face of the oldest recognised himself. And he heard the kindly words of advice that were given, and he felt some of the old love and reverence fill his breast. Then midst the howling of the wild wind a voice seemed to cry, "Silas Dew, Silas Dew, who let his parents die in the workhouse," and he hid his face in his hands and wept. Then the scene changed. It was himself he saw, but himself young, vigorous, and happy. He saw the misletoe, and he saw his image stoop and kiss a fair young cheek beneath its shadow. And the. voice moaned out, " Silas Dew, Silas Dew, who forsook his love for Mammon," and he groaned inwardly. Then another scene appeared, and a low miserable garret was before him, and on a wretched bed was stretched a faded miserable woman. A broken pitcher was by her side, and with her feeble strength she endeavoured to l'aise it to her fevered lips, but in vain, and with a despairing moan she sunk back. Then the door of the miserable den appeared to open, and the little wreathe seller entered. " Mother, Oh mother," she cried," and the two poor broken hearts sought solace in a close embrace. Then the voice borne on the whistling of the wind said to him, " Silas Dew, Silas Dew, who brought his sister to this," and hB rose and rushed out into the driving sleet. And a shadow seemed to move by his side, forcing him against his will to thread loathsome and dingy courts. Then he climbed to a poor attic, and there he saw the woman of hi* vision, and the little girl he had repulsed so rudely on tho street. And a smile lit "up her pale, worn features as she cried, "My brother, my brother." As he folded her to his bosom, the man's heart became even as the heart of a little child.