THE TOILER. William J. Fischer. Wm.

Briggs, Toronto. 12mo. pp. 167. "The Toiler," a book of poems by a young Canadian poet, has been published by Wm. Briggs of Toronto, in splendid style, and is a fine specimen of Canadian book-making. The cover is olive-green and gold and represents an elderly man of venerable aspect carrying a sheaf of golden grain and a scythe. The stamping is suggested by the first poem, from which the book takes its title.

This collection of verses, while by no means to be classed with a Drummond, a Chapman, or a Louis Frechette, nevertheless gives promise that Canada will, one day, have a poet that will give a message to the world. The mapleland of marvelous color, of golden wheat, of scenery unsurpassed for soothing beauty-a land of homes and of respect for law, and of national and civic virtues, offers as fair a field for expression as poetic genius could desire. Dr. Wm. J. Fischer has not yet given his message to the world. Greater things are yet to come from him.

In the meantime here is a sheaf of lyrics, many of which, if not compelling, are pretty a companion volume to his "Songs By the Wayside," and in some respects an improvement on that previous collection. Many of the poems in the book before us seem to be the inspiration of the instant, and show but slight signs of the "labor limae" which makes for perfection, technical and otherwise, which is rightly looked for in short poems and fugitive pieces. The file has been used sparingly, and as quence the book, as a whole, promising as it is, presents many a cameo in the rough-and rougher than should be.

a conse

After a second reading of the book we come to the conclusion that the poet has talent, and-notwithstanding considerable ambiguity in many lines, and un

melodious phrasings here and there, and not infrequently an unhappy choice of a word which mars the rhythm and the smoothness-there are indications of a power which with maturer study and closer communion with nature will result in impassioned expression.

Dr. Fischer, besides devoting time to biography and poetry, has published a book of clever short stories. He enjoys a large and successful practice as a physician at Waterloo, Ontario, Canada.

That his poetry is pleasing is a truism, but we are inclined to believe that if he so chose he could mount to the higher realms of emotional and passionate poetry which would stir and uplift rather than merely please. Those who know this young writer answer for his staunch Catholicity. Has it not yet occurred to some Canadian poet to use his pen in praise and defence of the strong faith of his native land? The glorious Catholic history of the land of our Northern neighbors awaits the poet who will yet write its epic.

"The Toiler" will make an excellent Christmas gift. There are four fine illustrations by Alfred M. Wickson. As a species of preface to these pleasing lyrics there is printed Charles J. O'Malley's famous poem: "I gather my poems out of the heart of the clover," which is, perhaps, the sweetest song published in many moons.

THE FRIENDS OF JESUS. By a Religious of the Society of the Holy Childhood of Jesus. Benziger Bros. 12mo. pp. 165. 60 cents net.

We have here a most instructive and delightful little volume for children. It tells of the Friends of Jesus, about whom all children, especially Catholic children, wish to know much; moreover, the stories are told in a manner which will rivet the attention of children

and will serve to whet their appetites for more, and will probably make them clamor for a rehearsal of those already told.

THE GIFT OF THE KING. By a Religious of the Society of the Holy Childhood of Jesus. Benziger Bros. 12mo. pp. 165. 60 cents. This is a little volume quite like the "Friends of Jesus" in style and treatment. The subject matter, however, is a simple explanation of the doctrines and ceremonies of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. What can be more needful to our children than to have this instruc

ated by all religious, more especially since the selections are made with excellent judgment and nice discrimination. To the members of all our sisterhoods, for whom it is chiefly intended, the work will prove invaluable, and these sisters will applaud the reverend editor for appending to the work the authoritative, clear and exhaustive paper on "Confessors of Nuns," written by the Dominican Father John T. McNicholas and first published in the American Ecclesiastical Review, April, 1907.

Another debt of gratitude due to Father Lasance is that he has in this volume rescued from oblivion the ex

THE MIRACLES OF OUR LORD. By a Religious of the Society of the Holy Childhood of Jesus. Benziger Bros. 12mo. pp. 175. 60 cents. This volume is the third of the series and stands along with the preceding two. It, too, is meant, in the main, for children, and tells in simple and attractive way the story of Our Lord's miracles. We commend these three volumes to all our readers, both young and old, for they will serve parents as well as children.

Ben

THOUGHTS ON THE RELIGIOUS LIFE. By the Rev. F. X. Lasance. ziger Bros. 16m0. pp. 910.

We have here a most excellent compilation of reading matter bearing on the religious life, illuminating every phase of this life and supplying, therefore, an ever helpful monitor and guide to the conscientious religious who realizes that by the very terms of his profession he must ever be making for perfection. It will prove an excellent volume for spiritual reading, for the advantage of having in one volume of convenient size a collection of reading matter upon all the vital subjects bearing upon the religious life will be appreci

and scholarly Jesuit, of happy memory, Father Henry Calmer. Of this poem there was no copy extant, but on his deathbed Father Calmer repeated the lines to Father Lasance, and in this way they happen to be preserved. We reprint the lines in extenso:

ETERNITY

The silent monks prayed in their oaken stalls;

In the tangled grass by the abbey walls Bloomed the roses red with their drooping

leaves,

And roses pink as the dreams youth weaves, And roses white as when love deceives; How they bloomed and swayed in the garden there,

While the bell tolled out in the warm still air: "Eternity!"

"Eternity!" the great bell rang.

"Leave life and love and youth," it sang; And the red rose scattered its petals wide, And the pink rose dreamed in the sun, and sighed,

And the white rose pined on its stem and died.

O Life, Love, Youth! Ye are sweet, ye are

strong.

But barren lives shall bloom in a long

Eternity!

We heartily recommend this volume. to all our readers, religious and lay. It will make an excellent Christmas gift.

THE BOND OF PERFECTION. By P. M. Northcote, O. S. M. Burns & Oates; Benziger Bros., American Agents. 16mo. pp. 101.

In this little treatise, the author chooses for his definition of charity the descriptive one given by St. Paul, namely: "Charity is the bond of perfection." Charity is the supernatural love which makes the Supernatural Good our own; of him, then, who loves God we may use the beautiful term of Holy Scripture, calling him a man of God, because he has made God his own by loving the Creator supremely and above all things. This charity is the link which binds us to God, and in Him to all that He loves. It is, therefore, the perfecting bond, the bond of perfection, for a 'man becomes perfect in so far as he applies his faculties to the highest end; whoever has charity is directing himself with all the powers of soul and body towards God; he can choose no higher end than this. These are the lines along which the little treatise proceeds, and it will be found. stimulating and helpful to all who are engaged in the quest of the divinest thing on earth.

THE LITTLE CITY OF HOPE. By Francis

Marion Crawford. The Macmillan Company. 12mo. pp. 208. $1.25. Mr. Crawford has just given us another proof of his remarkable versatility. This story is quite different from any he has ever written-different in every way, save only in this, that like all his books it is positively engrossing and holds the reader spellbound from first to last.

Never was a story more thoroughly saturated with the spirit of Christmas than Mr. Marion Crawford's "The Little City of Hope," which has just been published. For the first time in years Mr. Crawford has returned to America for his inspiration, and his success proves that his long residence in Italy has not

lessened his comprehension of his own country. The hero of his latest book, John Overholt, is American all through —a man who has given up his promising career as a professor of mathematics in order to devote himself to the perfecting of an air motor which he has invented. His is the traditional experience of inventors, and at the time the story opens his finances are at such an ebb that his wife, whom he dearly loves, has been compelled to seek a temporary position as a governess. The husband and their thirteen-year-old son are living in the old house on an abandoned Connecticut farm where the inventor has set up his apparatus. Overholt is confident that with a thousand dollars more he would be able to finish the motor and

bring fortune back to the family, but the

amount seems as far out of his reach as a million. It is the boy, practical, alert, and optimistic, who restores his hope when he is near despair and shows the way to ultimate success. In all their struggles they have looked forward to the time when they might return to the little college town where Overholt had once taught, and this dream of the future takes shape before their eyes when the father discovers that the boy has secretly been constructing a little model of the old village. They call this miniature city "The Little City of Hope," and as Christmas approaches the father becomes as absorbed as the boy in completing it. By a wonderful and yet very natural sequence of events, fortune comes right for the family in the end, and Christmas Day finds them reunited and happy. To tell how this happened would be unfair. Mr. Crawford himself relates it delightfully, with a simplicity and charm that testify eloquently to his mastery of his art. The little book is so admirable in appearance as well as contents, with its cheerful cover, good printing, and clever illustrations, that it will doubtless solve the Christmas gift problem for a great many people.

B

EHOLD Joseph and Mary, his espoused wife, going up from Galilee to Bethlehem, the city of David, to be enrolled in accordance with the decree of Caesar Augustus! Mary was with child, and the Gospel narrative goes on to sav: "And it came to pass that, when they were there, her days were accomplished, that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her first-born Son, and wrapped Him up in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn" (Luke ii, 6-7).

Pregnant with meaning are the words "because there was no room for them in the inn." Who can picture St. Joseph, the protector of the holy family, seeking shelter for her who is so destitute without feelings of utmost pity? Behold him, as he turns dejectedly from each refusal vainly to implore again a haven of refuge! With saddened heart he proceeds upon his way until unconsciously he leads Our Blessed Lady to a cave on a bleak and wind-swept hill— to the mansion of the King. This was the place where the King of kings had chosen to be born in abject poverty, the humblest of the humble, with only dumb beasts to watch and adore. Little did those at the inn suspect whom they turned away, and little did they imagine, in their comfort, that in the bleak stable amongst the hills of Bethlehem those glad hosannas announced the coming of the new-born King.

Jesus, God of heaven and earth, comes into the world a helpless infant, and under most trying conditions: far away from the humble home of the carpenter at Nazareth, destitute of the comforts enjoyed by even the poorest of mortals, He is born in a cave on the hillside. Truly might it be said: "The Son of

God hath not where to lay His head." The manger is converted into a throne, and poverty is exalted above riches. He for whom the nations had waited for ages, the Infant of redemption, inaugurates His advent among men in wretchedness and poverty.

According to human standards, the stable at Bethlehem was anything but a fit place for the birth of the Saviour; but the ways of God are not the ways of men, and in the significance of His Messiahship, who will say that the adoring Magi and the watching shepherds were not a fitting court as the heavenly army of Cherubim and Seraphim sang their glad hosannas and filled the void of night with their sweet song of praise, "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to men of good will?" The words of the prophecy were at last fulfilled: "For a child is born to us; and the government is upon His shoulders; and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, God the Mighty, the Father of the world to come, the Prince of Peace" (Isa. ix, 6).

Jesus is the God of peace come into this turbulent world to teach men a new gospel-the gospel of meekness, of love, of forgiveness; to teach them to render good for evil. He comes to suffer for all men that all men may be saved. The object of His coming was an act of reparation-reparation for the sins of men. His message was one of mercy: "I will have mercy, not sacrifice." Yet, such was the charity of the world, this merciful world-Redeemer must needs enter the world through a stable that extended equal hospitality to Him and the beasts of the field. The Virgin Mother was compelled to bring forth the Redeemer of fallen man amid all the circumstances of poverty. Yet there was a heavenly design in all this. The King

of heaven would teach the world to glory in lowliness; He would set an example for the consolation of the poor and the desolate; He would show the world that lowliness is dearer His heart than pomp and riches. He would establish a special bond between Him and the poor of God.

Blessed are they who, in imitation of the lowliness of Jesus, love the poor and give to them of their abundance. Like the Magi that came to adore the infant Saviour, they leave their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh at the throne of Jesus, and, like the shepherds, they return to their own glorifying and praising God. For these the lesson of Christ was not in vain. They have learned the profound significance of these words of our Saviour: "Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." They have not They have not turned from their doors Christ in the persons of His poor; they have not denied Him hospitality. Bethlehem incessantly looms before their gaze and its spirit ennobles and glorifies them. It makes them again unto the image and likeness of their God.

Rosarians, in the fulfilment of their obligations, have a splendid chance to learn the hidden virtues of our infant Saviour. In their meditations on the birth of the Christ they may ponder long and lovingly on the nativity of the Saviour. They may penetrate the depths of divine wisdom contained in that wondrous act of condescension. They may enter in spirit the stable at Bethlehem to honor the God made man. There, in the presence of the holy family, they may behold the humility and meekness of their infant King.

Wat a blessed thing it is to stand in spirit over the crib at Bethlehem and share with the shepherds of the East the priceless privilege of gazing upon Our Saviour. Ours is indeed the greater privilege. The favored shepherds who looked upon the helpless Infant in the

manger did not discern the divinity that lay concealed beneath the veil of weak humanity. A wondrous child, indeed, they beheld; one born under most extraordinary circumstances; and an inward consciousness told them that this was no ordinary child of man. But they saw not in Him the fulfilment of the prophecies, the realization of a hope of four thousand years' standing, the long looked for Messias. As they could not pierce the veil of those mean externals of impotency, poverty and obscurity and behold the hidden wisdom of the Godhead that lay beneath, no more could they read the future and behold the wonders which this new-born Child was to accomplish for the uplifting and sanctification of our race. In their mute and unthinking wonderment they beheld what they could not understand.

quite possible that thirty-three years later they heard of His crucifixion with the same feeling as the majority of their

race.

But we, the chosen children of God, gazing upon the manger-crib through the perspective of two thousand years, contemplating that stable scene, now no longer obscured in the half-light of a cave, but refulgent in the white light of faith, studying Him in the significance of His teachings, His miracles and the decrees of our Holy Church-we know that He is the Messias, the Saviour, God. We believe with all the certainty of our infallible Church that this it is that was promised in the greydawn of time, on the very threshold of human experience, to our recreant race. We know that He is the hope of humanity realized; that He is incarnate goodness, love divine. In the spirit of this faith let us as true Rosarians fall upon our knees and adore the God-child of Bethlehem.

May the infant Jesus shower His choicest blessings on every Rosarian, and grant him the enjoyment of a holy and blessed Christmas.