—estranged from him! They regarded him
as a base and unfeeling hypocrite.

Thus sate this man, listening to the words of
the collect:— "Almighty God! who hast given
us thy only-begotten Son, to take our nature
upon him, and at this time to be born; of a
pure Virgin; grant that we, being regenerate,
and made thy children by adoption and grace,
may daily be renewed by thy Holy Spirit
through the same our Lord Jesus Christ, who
liveth and reigneth with thee, and the  same
Spirit, ever one God, world without end,
Amen!"  There was a solemn murmur of
" Amen ! Amen! " and the man also uttered
the  "Amen" with his lips, but it was not in
his heart.  On that heart sate the sense of
hugest injuries, and burned  the bitterness of
intensest resentment.  Wherever he looked,
he saw only faces which wore the meek air
of devotion, yet those people had done him
the foulest wrong; had refused to listen to
his most earnest pleadings; had combined
with his foes to dishonour and ruin him.
Long years of integrity had not weighed one
straw in the balance with them against the
artful assertions of his foes.

These things rankled in his soul like fire.
He saw those who had eaten at his table,
laughed by his fireside, and in his soclal hours
seen his heart laid bare in its generous
truthfulness.  Some of these quondam friends
occupied his ancient family pew; he himself
sate in a humble and distant nook, half hidden
by one of the ponderous pillars of the side
aisle.  His wife lay at home the victim of a
wearing sickness, but his only daughter sat
beside him and wept silently to herself.  The
ghosts of old times passed in long trains
through her mind, and the words of the
hymn,

        "Goodwill to sinful man is shown,
            And  peace on earth is given"—

perhaps reminded her how little goodwill had
been shown to them; how little peace
they found on this earth.  When, therefore, the
clergyman took his text—"Then came Peter
to him , and said, Lord, how oft shall my
brother sin against me, and I forgive him?  Till
seven times?  Jesus said unto him, I say not
unto thee until seven times, but until seventy
times seven"—the tears of the daughter fell
faster, and she cast a gentle look at her father,
as if imploring him to listen to that.    But on
the brow of Mr. Longmore, for that was his
name, there sate a hard, stern expression, and
he said to himself, "I have no brother—there
is no such thing!  Do I not know them?"
But the clergyman's voice was now softly and
impressively calling on the congregation to
remember the new and godlike era which had
commenced with the first Christmas Day.
How the old and terrible doctrines of
vengeance and blood had been thrown down from
their woeful reign of ages; how the spirit of
an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, had
been superseded by the spirit of love.  How
the angelic anthem of " Peace on earth and
goodwill amongst men " had been worked out
with a divine reality by the Son of God, and
over the earth had gone a breath of heaven
destined to cherish peace and  kindness— art,
and science, and literature; pregnant with
triumphs, not of blood, but of  magnanimity;
not of strong men over one another, but of
souls over their evil passions; every
succeeding age assimilating this earth more and
more to the dignity and felicity of the heaven
there revealed.

Longmore shook his head, and said
inwardly, "Bah! mere visions.  After eighteen
hundred years where are the proofs?  Have
I not seen?  Do I not know?  Oh
sycophants!  sycophants!"  But his attention
was again arrested by his daughter softly
laying her hand on his arm. He  listened.
The preacher was describing the career of
Christ.  How, after all his deeds of goodness,
and his life of love, his friends had all
deserted him in the evil hour and his foes had
insulted and slain him. " And Jesus lifted up
his eyes to heaven on the Cross, and said,
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do."

"Oh! they know it very well," said Longmore,
in his desperate mood.  "They must
know it.  The base wretches are always the
same.  Forgive them"!  No!  I cannot
forgive them.  Christ might do it. He was a
divine being —it is easy to God, but it is not
easy, it is not possible for me—  I am but a
poor, weak down-trodden worm. No! no!"
The tears of his daughter flowed faster, as
she stooped low and buried her face in her
handkerchief.  It seemed as if she felt the
spirit that was raging in her father's bosom.

But, meantime, what were the thoughts
of the man of Wainfleet?  Of the lawyer who
had so triumphantly conducted the cause of
his client, and had so completely dragged
down the usurper, Longmore, as he firmly
believed him, from his proud altitude to the
dust of retribution and of shame?  On the
last Christmas Day he had sate there in the
very flush of triumph, and had thanked God
that he was not such as Longmore: that he
was not like him a convicted knave, still less
like him a pauper, with the memory of such
past greatness.  But Broadhurst, the lawyer,
did not sit thus now.   He was a crest-fallen,
spirit-fallen man.  A dreadful discovery had
come upon him.  He had ruined one more
upright and noble-minded than himself, to
elevate a worthless pretender. He had
blasted a well-deserved name; had struck
the dagger of domestic misery into three
kindred hearts; had done that which he would,
if possible, give worlds to undo.  He sate and
wept as the doctrine of heaven's highest
philosophy, "Do unto others  as thou wouldst
that they should do unto thee," was preached
over his head.  "O Lord, forgive me my
heavy sins!  Grant me life and strength to
repair what I have ruined.  Touch the heart