down from the fir-tree's bough and perched
upon the vine, and carolled in Barbara's ear of the Christmas morning
and of the coming of the prince. But Barbara slept; she did not hear
the carol of the bird.

"Alas!" sighed the vine, "Barbara will not awaken, and the prince is
coming."

Then the vine and the snowdrop wept, and the pine-tree and the fir
were very sad.

The prince came through the forest clad in royal raiment and wearing a
golden crown. Angels came with him, and the forest sang a great hymn
unto the prince, such a hymn as had never before been heard on earth.
The prince came to the sleeping child and smiled upon her and called
her by name.

"Barbara, my little one," said the prince, "awaken, and come with me."

Then Barbara opened her eyes and beheld the prince. And it seemed as
if a new life had come to her, for there was warmth in her body and a
flush upon her cheeks and a light in her eyes that were divine. And
she was clothed no longer in rags, but in white flowing raiment; and
upon the soft brown hair there was a crown like those which angels
wear. And as Barbara arose and went to the prince, the little
snowflake fell from her cheek upon her bosom, and forthwith became a
pearl more precious than all other jewels upon earth.

And the prince took Barbara in his arms and blessed her, and turning
round about, returned with the little child unto his home, while the
forest and the sky and the angels sang a wondrous song.

The city waited for the prince, but he did not come. None knew of the
glory of the forest that Christmas morning, nor of the new life that
came to little Barbara.

_Come thou, dear Prince, oh, come to us this holy Christmas time! Come
to the busy marts of earth, the quiet homes, the noisy streets, the
humble lanes; come to us all, and with thy love touch every human
heart, that we may know that love, and in its blessed peace bear
charity to all mankind!_

CHRYSTMASSE OF OLDE

God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,
Wherever you may be,--
God rest you all in fielde or hall,
Or on ye stormy sea;
For on this morn oure Chryst is born
That saveth you and me.

Last night ye shepherds in ye east
Saw many a wondrous thing;
Ye sky last night flamed passing bright
Whiles that ye stars did sing,
And angels came to bless ye name
Of Jesus Chryst, oure Kyng.

God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,
Faring where'er yo