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recoil, the instinctive change of place, of sinking down among those old stones when a squall drove the snow in a whirlwind about her.

Since the bells had struck eight and the day had advanced, nothing had protected her. If she had not trodden it down the snow would have reached her shoulders. The antique door behind her was tapestried as if with ermine, white as an altar at the foot of the gray façade, so bare and smooth that not a flake clung there. The great saints on the splay above were robed in it from their feet to their white locks, glistening with purity. Higher stil the scenes on the ceiling, the lesser saints in the vaults, rose in ridges traced with a line of white upon the sombre background, up to the crowning rapture, the marriage, of St. Ages, which the archangels seemed to celebrate in a shower of white roses. Upright on her pillar, with her white palm-branch, her white lamb, the statue of the child martyr stood in stainless purity, her body of unsullied snow, in a motionless rigidity of cold that froze about her the mystical darts of triumphant virginity. And at her feet stood the other, the forlorn child, white as snow like herself, stiffened as if of stone, no longer distinguishable from the saints.

And now the clattering of a blind thrown back along the sleeping house-fronts made her raise her eyes. It came from the right, at the first floor of the house adjoining the cathedral. A pretty woman, a brunette about forty years old, had just leaned out, and despite the cruel cold, she paused a moment with bare, outstretched arm, as she saw the child move. Compassionate surprise saddened her calm face. Then with a shiver she closed the window, carrying with her from that swift glance under the shred of foulard, the vision of a blond waif with violet eyes, a long neck with the grace of a lily, falling shoulders; but blue with cold, her tiny hands and feet half-dead, nothing living about her but the light vapor of her breath.

The child remained with upraised eyes fixed on the house, a narrow house of a single story, very old, built toward the close of the fifteenth century. It was sealed so closely to the flank of the cathedral between two but

tresses, that it looked like a wart between two toes of a colossus. Situated thus it was admirably protected, with its stone base, its front of wooden panels decorated with simulated bricks, its roof with timbers hanging a metre wide over the gable, its turret with projecting staircase at the left angle, and narrow window that still retained the lead placed there of old. Nevertheless age had necessitated repair. The covering of tiles dated from Louis XIV. It was easy to distinguish the work done at that epoch: a dormer-window pierced in the turret, small wooden sashes replacing everywhere those of the primitive large windows, the three clustered bays of the first floor reduced to two, the middle one being filled up with brick, which gave to the façade the symmetry of the other more recent constructions in the street. On the ground floor the modifications were as plainly visible; a carved oaken door in place of the old one of iron-work under the staircase, and the grand central archway, of which the bottom, the sides, and the apex filled up with mason-work in such a way as to leave only a rectangular opening, a sort of large window instead of the pointed arch that had formerly opened on the pavement.

The child, looking dully at the master-artisan's venerable and well-kept dwelling, saw nailed beside the door, at the left, a yellow sign bearing the words "Hubert, chasuble-maker," in ancient black letters. Again the noise of an opening shutter caught her attention. This time it was the shutter of the square window on the first floor. A man in his turn leaned out, with anxious face, nose like an eagle's beak, a rugged forehead crowned with thick hair, already white, though he was scarcely forty-five years old; and he also paused for a moment to look at her with a sorrowful quiver of his large, tender mouth. Then she saw him remain standing behind the small greenish window-panes. He turned and beckoned; his pretty wife reappeared, and they stood side by side motionless, looking steadily at her with an expression of deep sadness.

Troubled by their gaze, the child shrank farther behind St. Agnes's pillar. She was disquieted, too, by the walking in the street, the shops opening, the people beginning

to stir. The Street of the Goldsmiths, whose end was buttressed against the lateral wall of the church, would have been a veritable blind alley stopped up on the side by the Hubert dwelling, if the Rue Soleil, a narrow passage, had not opened on the other side, threading along the opposite flank to the grand façade, the place of the Cloisters; and now there passed by this way two devotees who cast an astonished glance on the little pauper whom they did not know. .

But ashamed of her desolate condition as of a fault, the child drew back still farther, when all at once she saw before her Hubertine, who, having no maid, was going out herself for bread.

"What are you doing there, little one?"

The child did not answer; she hid her face. But her limbs were benumbed, her senses swam as if her heart, turned to ice, had stood still. When the good woman with a gesture of pity turned away she sank upon her knees, her strength all gone, and slid helplessly down in the snow whose flakes were silently burying her. And the woman coming back with her hot bread, saw her lying thus upon the floor.

"Let us see, little one; you cannot be left under that gateway," said she. Then Hubert, who had come out and was standing on the threshold of the house, took the bread, saying: "Take her up; bring her in."

Hubertine, without replying, lifted her in her strong arms. And the child drew back no more, but was carried like a lifeless thing, her teeth set, her eyes closed, benumbed with the cold, light as a little bird that has fallen out of the nest.- The Dream.

OROASTER, or ZARATHUSHTRA, a Persian philosopher; founder of the Perso-Iranian religion. According to the Zend-Avesta, he lived during the reign of Vitacpa, whom some writers identify with Hystaspes, the father of Darius I. Assuming this to be approximately true, Zoroaster lived between five and six hundred years before Christ. Some writers say he lived 1,500 years before the Christian Era. The earliest Greek writer to mention him is Plato. According to Aristotle and others, he lived 5,000 years before Plato. Neibuhr regards him solely as a myth. Tradition regards him as a legislator, prophet, pontiff, and philosopher. The doctrines in the Zend-Avesta are ascribed to him, and profess to be the revelations of Ormuzd, made to his servant Zoroaster. He teaches that the universe is a constant scene of conflict between the good and the bad; that each of these principles possesses creative power, but the good is eternal and will finally triumph over the bad, which will then sink with all its followers into darkness, its native element. He also believed in an infinite Deity called Time Without Bounds. The religion of Zoroaster has degenerated into an idolatrous worship of fire and the sun.

ORMUZD AND AHRIMAN.

Both these Heavenly Beings, the Twins, gave first of themselves to understand

Both the good and the evil in thoughts, words, and

works;

Rightly do the wise distinguish between them; not so the imprudent.

When both these Heavenly Beings came together, in order to create at first

Life and imperishability, and as the world should be at

last;

The evil for the bad, the Best Spirit for the pure.

Of these two Heavenly Beings, the bad chose the evil, acting thereafter;

The Holiest Spirit, which prepared the very firm heaven, chose the pure,

And those who make Ahura contented with manifest actions, believing in Mazda.

- From the Zend-Avesta, Thirtieth Section of the Yaçan.

A PRAYER.

I desire by my prayer with uplifted hand this joy: First, the entirely pure works of the Holy Spirit, Mazda, Then, the understanding of Vohû-manô, and that which rejoices the soul of the Bull.

I draw near to you, O Ahura-Mazda, with good-minded

ness.

Give me for both these worlds, the corporeal as well as the spiritual,

Gifts arising out of purity, which make joyful in bright

ness.

I praise you first, O Asha and Vohû-manô,

And Ahura-Mazda, to whom belongs an imperishable kingdom;

May Armaiti, to grant gifts, come hither at my call! - From the Zend-Avesta, Twenty-eighth Section of the Yagna.

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