"Give me the head of John the Baptist on a dish."

This request made King Herod very sad.

So, sending for a soldier, he commanded that the head of John the Baptist be brought to him.

Having beheaded the Saint in prison, the soldier put the Baptist's head on a dish and gave it to the girl.

She in turn gave it to her wicked mother, who was then satisfied.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

When and where was St. John the Baptist born? How did he dress? Why did he go into the desert? When did he begin to preach? Who baptized our Lord? What happened when Jesus came out of the water? What did the priests say to him? How did he offend Herod? What happened at Herod's birthday party? For what did the girl ask? Who told her what to ask? Was the mother satisfied?

In connection with this lesson, the teacher should tell the children about the three ways of baptizing which have been used by the Church.

Every day is a fresh beginning;

Every morn is a world made new.

- SUSAN COOLIDGE.

THE CHILD OF MARY'S PRAYER

maternal

counsel siren unwary

Lady, as thy name we ponder,

Surely thou wilt hear our prayer;
We are frail and apt to wander,
And we need maternal care.

We are wayward and unwary,

Lightly do we faithless prove;
Yet we are thy children, Mary,

And we live in thy heart's love.

If the world advise us wrongly,
And we trust its siren lay,
Lady of Good Counsel, strongly
Right us, ere we go astray.

When the ills of life have tried us,
And we sorely need a friend,
Lady of Good Counsel, guide us
Safely, surely to our end.

So, whatever need o'ertake us,
Lady, still we look to thee.

wander

May thy counsel ever make us,

Such as God would have us be.

REV. FREDERICK C. KOLBE, D.D.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

To whom is the poet speaking?

What is another word for

"maternal"? When are we faithless to Mary?

What do we

ask the Blessed Virgin in the third stanza? Who is always a good friend of ours? For what do we pray in the last stanza?

Rev. Frederick C. Kolbe, D.D., a writer, poet, botanist, and geologist, was born in 1852. He was for many years the editor of the Catholic Magazine of South Africa. He is at present engaged in his priestly calling in South Africa.

No man is born into this world whose work
Is not born with him; there is always work,
And tools to work withal, for those who will;
And blessed are the horny hands of toil.

Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed in a twiceShe and Belinda Cratchit, her

turned gown.

daughter, laid the cloth and set the table, while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes.

Just then the two smaller Cratchits, a boy and a girl, came rushing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their own.

These young Cratchits danced about the table while Master Peter Cratchit blew the fire, until the slow potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan lid to be let out and peeled.

"What has happened to your father?" said Mrs. Cratchit. "And your brother, Tiny Tim? And Martha was not as late last Christmas Day by half an hour!"

"Here's Martha, mother!" said a girl, appearing as she spoke.

Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young

Cratchits.

"Hurrah!

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There's such a goose, Martha !"

Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet for her.

We had a great deal of work to finish up last night," replied the girl, "and had to clear away this morning, mother!"

"Well! never mind so long as you are come,' said Mrs. Cratchit. Sit down before the fire, my

dear."

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No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. Hide, Martha, hide!"

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So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at least three feet of comforter hanging down before him; and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, and Tiny Tim