TOLSTOY tells of a poor peasant who was a devout Christian. He was a man of kind heart and gentle disposition, a hard worker, and one who had suffered many buffetings from misfortune, but who still, even with his scant means, found opportunities to do good. The peasant had a vision. It seemed to him that the figure of the Saviour came to him while he slept, and told him that He would come to his poor cabin the next day. When the peasant awoke, he vividly remembered the dream. His heart burned within him, for he felt certain that it would come to pass, and that he would see the Master. How often he had prayed that He might come! And now He was coming! He would honor with His divine presence and beneficent smile the dingy little room, and bless it forever after. So the peasant set about to prepare for this event. The day was stormy and bitter cold, and a biting sleet was falling. He dusted and swept the little chamber, replenished the logs in the rude fireplace, and put on the customary pot of cabbage soup. He had part of a loaf of bread; and this, with the soup, constituted his larder. But poverty was nothing; he was rich in the promise of the Master's coming. So he watched from his window, hour by hour. The village street was well-nigh deserted. Presently he saw a pedler, half frozen and numb, struggling under his pack, fighting the stinging blast. Seeing the man about to fall, the peasant flung open the door, and was just in time to catch the tottering figure. He pulled the pedler into the cabin, set him by the fire, warmed him back to life, and fed him the cabbage soup; then when he was fully restored and refreshed, he set him on his way again. Next, a poor woman—a bedraggled creature—awoke his sympathetic heart. Her, too, he took in and warmed and fed, and dried her tattered garments, and, wrapping his coat about her, sent her away stronger and happier. Day wore on toward late afternoon, and in the growing dusk he perceived a child lying prone on the street, overcome with the storm. The peasant ran out to gather the little one, cold and unconscious, up in his wide blouse, and took him in. It was a long struggle to revive the half-frozen child, but at last he succeeded. With a small pan of warm milk and the remnant of his loaf of bread, he fed this little sufferer until the child fell asleep, smiling in contentment, in the settle before the blazing logs. “Ah,” sighed the peasant, as he looked out of the window to the street, “the Master! The Master said He would come, and it is nearly night.” He sat down by the fire, and gazed long at the happy face of the sleeping child. In his heart there was at once a great sorrow and a deep sympathy. Presently he fell into a doze. Suddenly the room seemed to lighten about him. A mild radiance illuminated it which did not emanate from the dying embers in the fireplace. Looking up, he saw that he was not alone with the sleeping child. There stood the Master, white-robed, and gazing down upon him with a smile. “Ah, Master!” he said, through half-open lips, “I have waited and watched the long day, blessed Master; but Thou didst not come, and now it is night.” The Master spoke in soothing tones: “Three times to-day have I visited thy cabin. That poor pedler whom thou didst rescue and feed—that was I; she to whom thou gavest thy coat—that also was I; and this child whom thou hast saved from death—that is I; for inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these, thou hast done it unto Me.” The vision faded. The peasant sat upright. He was alone with the sleeping child, who still smiled in his sleep; but he knew that the Christ had come to his cabin that day.—Anon.