"Yes," said Mrs. Mason, glancing over the pages, "it is about the Christmas box, Belinda. We are all to send our measures, and tell what things we need a long list I fear that would be! The number of children, and their ages -I am afraid the number of mine will frighten them, four boys and a great girl! What a nice letter it is, though. It does seem good to be remembered."

Such a tea-table chatter as there was that night! Grandfather and the children were deeply interested. The question of coats, trousers, shoes, hats, blankets, and a dress for mother and Belinda, was discussed with intense eagerness, and many conjectures were made as to the probable size of the articles needed. Only the father kept silence. Good man as he was, the subject of the box was not a pleasant one to him, and his wife glanced at him from time to time a little anxiously; but as he bravely smiled back at her, she comforted herself with the reflection that he did not mind so very much this time.

Truly, that first Christmas-box had not had much that was festal about it except the name. Mrs. Mason's own cheeks had burned a little as she lifted out some of the articles in it; but she tried not to think of this now, and to join heartily in the anticipations of the children.

Those were eventful days that followed to Belinda-the box filled them full. No matter how stupid the time was, something was coming; no matter how old her dress was, there was a new one coming. Did one of the boys bump his head or cut his finger, the box was held up as a panacea; and even when Bobby took the whooping-cough that magic box would be sure to make him well. Belinda's big eyes grew bigger and bigger, gazing for it; the little girl felt such a longing, she was sure the box would fill it. And all the time it hung by a thread whether they were to have any Christmas-box at all! It was a hard box to fill, and so perilously near Christmas no one had decided to attempt it.

"Don't you think it is 'most time for the box to come, mother?" asked Belinda, at last.

"They usually send word when it is on the way," replied her mother. "But it might get here ahead of the letter."

"Yes, dear, quite true; it might."

So every evening Belinda went out in the field to watch for the stage, at first with cager hopefulness, that gradually sank into despair.

Mother," she said, one evening, "I don't believe the box will come at all. I think no one remembers us, after all; we are too far away!" "Poor little Belinda," said her mother, pityingly. "I wish I knew how to comfort my girl."

"You do comfort me," said Belinda, quickly. arms around me, and know you are sorry, I don't How have you ever borne it out here, all these

years,

"When I feel your

care-not so much. mother?"

66 Well, Belinda, I have had all my dear ones around me; that is a great deal. But more than that, there has always been One near me, so near that I have never felt far away, or lonesome, or cast out. And it seems to me now, dear, that you are forgetting him, and that it is the coming of the box that you expect, and not his coming; and without him, all Christmas joys are worthless."

“Yes,” said Belinda, with her head down in her mother's lap. “Tell me some more."

"Well! you know it all, Belinda, without my telling. You are very anxious for Christmas presents; but are you to give no present to the dear Lord whose day it is? Humility, a contented spirit, and earnest wish to serve him-are you going to have these for his coming?"

After this poor Belinda tried, oh, so hard! not to expect the box at ali. She still went out to watch for the stage with an old shawl around her, now the days were colder; but half the time her dreaming eyes went far beyond the horizon, and saw in a vision the hills of the Psalmist.

"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. "My help cometh from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”

"Belinda! Belinda! Oh, where's Belinda?" four eager voices called at once. "Tell her it's come-oh, tell her it's come! Belinda! Belin-da!"

Could it be possible? As late as Christmas Eve itself, and the box, their box, come at last! They all assembled around it; the little boys all tried at once to open it. Grandfather brought the hammer, and Mrs. Mason a chisel, and Mr. Mas ɔn smiled around at the group, and Belinda stood with her hands clasped. And then it was opened. And then-but when I come to this part words fail me.

For it was such a box! such a wonderful box! such a blessed box! There was more in it, it seemed, than had ever been put into a box before. And the secret of it was this-it had been packed with Love. There had been so much love put into it, such kind thought as to what would please, such a desire to find the very thing each one wanted, that it was like a delicious fragrance which perfumed every article.

All the clothing asked for was there, and a hundred other things besides. A pretty collar for the mother; a handkerchief for her, from "One of the girls," with a Christmas card in it; a pair of warm knitted slippers. There were knots of ribbon for Belinda; a pretty little lace kerchief; a blue felt hat with a bird's wing on it; a pair of silk gloves; a fancy box with candy in it; toys for each of the boys; two large silk handkerchiefs for grandfather, and some magazines and books for Mr. Mason. A little surprise of some kind lurked in the folds of each garment, and Christmas cards slipped out from everywhere. "For Grandfather," "For the dear littlest boy," "For Mrs. Mason," "For Belinda,"

each one was marked; and one beautiful large one was "For Mr. Mason, from the King's Daughters."

"Well," said Mrs. Mason, with a queer little shake in her voice"well, dear, what have you to say to this?"

"Nothing," said Mr. Mason, "except, God bless them! God bless them!" and, strange to say, there was a little shake in his voice too, because there is something in a box packed with love that takes the pride all out of one.

Down at the very bottom of the chest was the best thing of all. It was a letter in a thick, square envelope.

"DEAR BELINDA," it began.

"My name is Belinda too, and so I felt as if I must write to you. I am so sorry the box is going off so soon; it has been such a pleasure to work for it, only I can think now of lots more to put in it. We girls were so glad to find such a delightful big family to work for, and we have enjoyed it more than I can tell; but I expect it would have been a queer kind of a box if the mothers hadn't helped us too.

"Dear Belinda, I want to know so much what you are like, and what you do every day. I have thought of you so much that I feel as if I knew you quite well. I have no brothers or sisters at all, but mother says I imagine enough for ten. Will you write to me soon? Because I shall watch the mail every day until I get a letter. And I wish you a very, very Merry Christmas and a very, very Happy New Year.

"With my love, your friend,

BELINDA PERRY."

There never was anything like it before-never. Belinda's eyes shone like stars; her cheeks were rosy red, and her heart "burned within her." "I am glad," she said softly to herself, as she went up-stairs with her arms full of treasures, and the treasure of a new interest besides—“ I am so glad that I learned to give it up-the dear box!-before it came. It was so hard to do, but He did help me to do it, and now I am glad. But I wonder why it is that-that-"

What she thought was this, though she could not put it into words: She wondered why the human love made the divine love seem so much nearer. “If I had only done something for somebody too!" she said, and kissed the other Belinda's letter.

But the next day-Christmas Day-just think of it! Jack's letter came for grandfather. And whose doing was that?- Woman's Auxiliary.

CHILDREN who have all they want and to spare,

Their good things with poor little children may share;
For this will bring blessing, and this is the way

To make happy and glad our Christmas Day.

Editorial.

TREASURY NOTE.

THE receipts in October were $38,768.76, of which $13,877.18 came from contributions, and $24,891.58 from legacies. Adding these sums to the table below, we show a total of $174,009.82 received in the seven months of the fiscal year, April-November. Contributious brought in $116,621.59 of this amount, and legacies, $57,388.23. This is a falling off from the same months in 1889 of $8,731.55 in gifts of the living, and $57,514.58 in legacies. It is a small but altogether inadequate advance on the average receipts of the first seven months of the latest five fiscal years, 1886-1890. The actual gain over the average for those five years is $3,637 in contributions and $2,036 in legacies.

As our readers will see, the response of living givers to our appeal in The Home Missionary for November is far from cheering. But for a considerable advance over any previous month in the year in receipts. from legacies, the showing would be very meager. We are aware that some of our most substantial churches are unusually delaying their collections this year, and so shall wait, with what of patience we can command, till the autumnal givers are more generally heard from, before assuming that the sparseness of October's offerings is meant as an affirmative answer to our questions in the November number: "Shall the work of the Society be cut down? Shall the ominous order be again issued to our eager Superintendents, No more new work'? Shall the hopeful forward movements in Montana, Washington, Colorado, Oklahoma, and the South, be arrested?"

Not until we must shall we believe that our helpers are ready to "deny the appeal of those who hunger for our faith and polity, and need our help to plant the Pilgrim church."

We await with painful anxiety the receipts of the current month. They will go far toward settling the question of advance, holding our own,

or retrenchment of the work even now far too contracted to be taken as the deliberate response of our churches to the Master's call.

What is the deliberate answer of our churches and friends of Home Missions to that call?

On the first of November his associates were glad to welcome Dr. KINCAID back to his desk in the Bible House, after an absence of eight weeks. Much of the time was given to attendance upon and addresses before the State Associations of South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, North Dakota, Colorado, and Nebraska. The intervals were not wasted. One or two sermons were preached every Sabbath. Some days were filled with personal inspection of the drought-smitten regions of South Dakota, with a look at the Sioux Reservation. Another tour was made through New Mexico, for inspection of the Society's work in Trinidad, Las Vegas, Santa Fé, and Albuquerque. Other days were spent in attendance on conferences of State Home Missionary committees, in confirming aided churches and their pastors, in helping to dedicate the new building of Fargo College, in preaching to the students of Carlton College, and addressing those of Chicago Theological Seminary. For recreation the Secretary attended the meeting of the American Board at Min. neapolis, where he preached twice on the Sabbath.

A series of journeys like this, involving much night travel, variety of bed and board, constant tension of brain and nerve, and incessant drafts upon the sympathies, should have large results to make it a paying invest

ment.

And it has them. The personal acquaintance with so widely dif