Men come and go. Nations rise and wane. Suns rise and set. The seasons roll around. The days and weeks and months succeed each other in rapid succession, and Time, the great Physician, heals our wounds. Once again ’tis Christmas Eve, and in a certain city church the Rector lingers for a while to see that all is in readiness for the festal morning. Loving hands have decorated the neat little church. Beautiful it looks, with its evergreen holly and ivy, and red berries, and white sparkling frost crystals, and pure white carnations on the altar. All is ready for to-morrow’s services, and with thankful heart the Rector kneels on the chancel step to thank God for His best gift to the world The Babe of Bethlehem and to beseech that His people may appreciate that Gift and come in large numbers to the Holy Table. As he is about to leave the church an old woman comes tottering up the aisle bearing in one hand a silver “challenge” cup, and in the other a bunch of white flowers. With trembling voice she beseeches the minister to take and place them upon the altar. “The cup was Ned’s, sir,” she said, “he won it for shootin’ at the Boys’ Brigade. I bought the flowers myself, your riverence, for I know he would love it to be filled with flowers on the altar to-morrow; and I want it placed there as his gift to God this blessed Christmas Day.”

Her request was granted. Ned’s gift was “placed there” and all who heard the story were reminded of the saying, “He being dead, yet speaketh.” In his life he bravely “did his duty in that state of life unto which it had pleased God to call him”; he gave himself up to bring joy and sunshine wherever he went; he gave his prayers, his service, his will to God; for “with all my heart, I come,” he said.

And may we not feel this happy Christmastide, when the world is glad and joyful, when friends are true and the skies are blue and the sun is shining, when in God’s House we thank Him for the Babe of Bethlehem and unite with the whole Heavenly Host in singing “Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth peace to men of good-will”; may we not feel that with all the voices in that mighty throng, one voice we know will also be lovingly heard by our Father; and that will be the voice of Irish Ned, the Winnipeg Newsy.