Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

self. For, he that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth
and drinketh judgment to himself, not discerning the body of
the Lord," at another moment stifling his difficulties by the
remembrance of all he had heard from Mr. Grant with no fixed
idea or belief, but with his mind one vast chaos of uncertainty
and fear, poor Edwin approached his first and last communion
in the church where his forefathers had so long worshipped.
We say his last, too ; for, he approached no more. He
was so utterly wretched after receiving the bread and winethere
was such a feeling of misery and desolation in his heart,
such a want of reality and truth about this action, which
should have been so sacred and so full of holy joy and conso-
lation that Edwin could never bring himself to repeat it.
Several times Mr. Stanhope reminded him that the following
Sunday was a "communion day;" but Edwin received the
announcement so coldly, merely saying, "Papa, I think I
"
that his father did not press him on the
shall not approach ;
of religion, and the state he was in, had grown upon him every
day since the incidents we have already mentioned, and the
workings of his active mind had left a languor and paleness on
his fair young cheek, and imparted a weary, anxious look to his
large dark eye, which were painful to look upon, telling, as
they did, of a young and loving heart not at peace speaking,
too, through the hectic flush which now so often came upon
him, of such pain, and care, and grief, as youthful trusting
hearts like his should never know or feel.
But, again, let him take courage. Light and comfort are at
hand ; brightness is near. The good Jesus is looking for His
lamb, that with loving hand and mercy breathing voice He may
take it on His shoulders, to carry it home forever to Himself.
CHAPTEE VI
A CHBI8TMA6 PABTT. CHEISTMAS THOUGHTS AMD FEELINGS.
A PBOPOSAL.
WE have already mentioned that about the time Edwin
reached his seventeenth birthday an event occurred which
altered the whole course of his life. It was Christmas time,
and an invitation had been sent to Edwin to spend a few days
at the house of Mr. Seymour, an old friend of the Stanhope
family.
Edwin had almost determined to decline the invitation,
as he felt every day less and less fitted for society ; but Mr.
Stanhope, who had marked with much uneasiness, the increasing
langour of his son's appearance, and the depression of
spirits under which he so frequently labored, pressed him so
earnestly to go, that at length he rather unwillingly acceded.
Mr. Seymour woi a fine specimen of the English merchant.
Bluff, generous, and hearty, he loved to be happy himself, and
to see happy faces smiling around him. He had, at this parti-
THE TWO VICTORIES.
In this stato of perplexity and doubt with no one to counsel
or instruct liim with no one to whisper in his ear the words
of truth with all the instincts and feelings of his nature
prompting him to take the words he so often pondered in their
plain and literal sense, and with these instincts crushed and
beaten down by the teaching to which he was a constant
listener at one moment trembling as he thought again and
again of the inspired Words: " Therefore, let a man prove him-
wreaths of the graceful ivy, and every statue or figure, with a
hand to hold it, held within its grasp something green to tell
of the happy time. In the evening as they sat, a merry band,
round the ample hearth, with no other light than the sparkling
flames which burst from the yule log, with the fresh red berries
glimmering and twinkling so brightly and cheerfully in the
flickering light, while the song, and the jest, and the tale went
round, with young hearts laughing so gaily and so free from
care, the weariest grew glad and the sorrow-stricken were beguiled
for a moment from their griefs, and the drop that was
about to fall into sorrow's cup was arrested for awhile. When
one of Mr. Seymour's sons, a fine open-hearted fellow, during
the evening sang the following Christmas song, there were few
present, either young or old, who were untouched, or who remained
unmoved as visions of the past or future flitted before
them. There were few who remained insensible to the deep
feeling, affections, and sympathies which Christmas time, and
cular Christmas, gathered round him a large party, principally
of yop.ng persons, and every preparation was being made to
enable them to spend a " merry Christmas" in the fullest sense
of the word.
When Edwin arrived on Christmas Eve, he found the house
of Mr. Seymour decorated from top to bottom with such a profusion
of holly, ivy, and evergreens of all descriptions, that it
appeared a perfect wood. There was a mistletoe hanging from
the roof of every room, the gorgeous mirrors were framed with
Christmas thoughts, and Christmas songs never fail to awaken.
There were few of the young whose glowing hearts did not
glow warmer still, and out of whose bright eyes the happiness
of their hearts did not shine too plainly to be mistaken. There
were few of the old who were not carried back to times gone
by, when they sat in childish gladness round a well-remembered
hearth, one of a happy band now scattered far and wide ;
and what wonder if their hearts grew full, and their eyes grew
dim, as the light of their mother's smile seemed to play about
them once again, and the tones of the father's voice re-echoed
matter, attaching, as he himself did, so little importance to it.
Thus Edwin grew up to his seventeenth year, his romantic
nature developing itself more and more every day, and his
aspirings after something more holy and grand than anything
he knew becoming daily stronger and more marked. Frank,
open and ingenuous, it was in their souls ; and, at the moment memory
impossible to know him without
loving him and admiring him but his ;
uneasiness on the matter
had beguiled them,
and in thought they were heedless children again, the vision,
vanished, to be replaced by the old churchyard and the turfcovered
mound, with the Christmas chime wailing a sad and
plaintive air around the graves, like the song of the surging
seb as it breaks for ever on the sounding shore. What wonder
that they forgot that the chime wailed but for a moment round
the graves of those who might listen no more to its song, ere
it went its way on the frosty breeze, to carry its message of
love to young and old, ringing so softly and with such mugic
sweetness through the sacred place, where at midnight hour
the kneeling crowd is wrapt in silent prayer, as blazing lights
and sweetest scents and music's thrilling strains are all employed
to greet in humble love and praise the God-made Man,
as once again He descends upon the altar of His love speaking
to the schoolboy's heart of his mother's love telling the
weary of rest to come, filling the hearts of all with love, and
joy, and hope, and bliss.
"I love thee right well, with the merry swell
Of thy brave old cheery voice ;
As thou ounicHt again, 'mid the hail and the rain,
And biddest thy children rejoice.
I love the soft sheen of thy holly green,
And I love on its leaves to gaze ;
I Jove tho glad sight of its berries bright,
As they glewoi in the yule-log's blaze.
I love thee, I love thee, I love thy brave chime,
I love thee right dearly, thou old Christmas time.
"I love thee right well, thou old Christmas bell
As thou swellest adown the vale ;
I love thy sweet song, as It flitteth along,
And teUeth the Christmas tale.
Cold, cold is the heart that taketh no part
In the joy of the Christmas time ;
That growoth not light, with glac* visions, and bright
At the song of the Christmas chime.
I love thee, I love thee, I love the brave chime.
That greeteth thee loudly, thou old Christmas time.
' I love thee right well for the tale thou dost tell
Of days that are vc'lis'd and gone ;
When hearts true and dear met at least once a year
Hound the hearth, when thy gladness e'er shone ;
"Where the yule-log's soft gleam reflected each beam
Of the eye, as we sat in its light ;
Where the tale and the song iu mirth pass'd along.
And looks in thy presence grew bright.
I love thee, I love thee, and long for the chime.
That greeted thoe bravely, thou old Christmas time.
" I love thee, old bell, though a tale thou mayst tell
Of hopes that are wither'd and dead ;
I bleps thy glad peal, though its notes may reveal
The absence of those who have fled.
Then linger awhile around yon old pile,
An J murmur above their cold clay ;
I'll shed the hot tear for the lost ones so dear,
Then Juy with the friends of to-day.
Oh 1 still do I love thee, and love thy brave chime,
And e'er will I love thee thou old Christmas time."
The evening was far spent, in fact it was close upon mid-
night, when one of the party proposed that they should go to