yesterday I became a member of the Church, having decided for Christ two months ago. For these two blessings of God I owe all to you, for in both business and religion you have been my example. I hope in this new land to help others as you helped me."

The other was from one of his old Sunday-school scholars, and read:

"Dear Sir: I have taken your advice and once more feel a free man. With the money you loaned me I have paid my debts, and with God's help and yours will redeem the past. I cannot thank you as I ought; but I do trust I will be worthy of your confidence."

A new light came into his face. The old restlessness passed forever. He walked with the step of his youth. God had held the goblet of life to his lips, and he had drunk deep. C. C. Wylie.

LOVE

To keep one sacred flame

Through life unchilled, unmoved,
To love in wintry age, the same

As first in youth we loved,

To feel that we adore

Even to fond excess

That though the heart would break with more,

It could not live with less.

Thomas Moore.

THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD

The muffled drum's sad roll has beat
The soldier's last tattoo;

No more on life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On Fame's eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread,

And Glory guards, with solemn round,
The bivouac of the dead.

No rumor of the foe's advance
Now swells upon the wind;

No troubled thought at midnight haunts
Of loved ones left behind;

No vision of the morrow's strife

The warrior's dream alarms;

No braying horn nor screaming fife
At dawn shall call to arms.

Their shivered swords are red with rust,
Their plumèd heads are bowed;
Their haughty banner, trailed in dust,
Is now their martial shroud.

And plenteous funeral tears have washed
The red stains from each brow,

And the proud forms, by battle gashed,
Are free from anguish now.

The neighing troop, the flashing blade,
The bugle's stirring blast,

The charge, the dreadful cannonade,
The din and shout, are past;

Nor war's wild note, nor glory's peal
Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that nevermore may feel
The rapture of the fight.

Like the fierce northern hurricane
That sweeps this great plateau,
Flushed with a triumph yet to gain,
Came down the serried foe.
Who heard the thunder of the fray
Break o'er the field beneath,

Knew well the watchword of that day

Was "Victory or death!"

Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest,

Far from the gory field;

Borne to a Spartan mother's breast
On many a bloody shield;

The sunlight of their native sky
Smiles sadly on them here,

And kindred eyes and hearts watch by
The heroes' sepulcher.

Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead,
Dear as the blood ye gave,
No impious footstep here shall tread
The herbage of your grave.

Nor shall your glory be forgot

While Fame her record keeps,

Or Honor points the hallowed spot
Where Valor proudly sleeps.

Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone
In deathless song shall tell,

When many a vanished age hath flown,
The story how ye fell;

Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight,
Nor Time's remorseless doom,

Shall dim one ray of glory's light

That gilds your glorious tomb.

Theodore O'Hara.

WITH A DIFFERENCE

It was a pretty song of spring
That Tommy Jones had learned to sing
Before the school on closing day-

A song appropriate and gay.

The words of his first line were these:

"The buds are bursting on the trees."

But when that day Tom's name was called,
He faced his audience appalled;

And this, alas! was what he sung,

While terror twisted up his tongue

And stage fright shook his voice and knees: "The birds are busting on the trees!"

Caroline Mischka Roberts.

FAMILY FINANCIERING

"They tell me you work for a dollar a day;
How is it you clothe your six boys on such pay?"

"I know you will think it conceited and queer, But I do it because I'm a good financier.

"There's Pete, John, Jim, and Joe and William and Ned, A half-dozen boys to be clothed up and fed.

"And I buy for them all good plain victuals to eat, And clothing-I only buy clothing for Pete.

"When Pete's clothes are too small for him to go on, My wife makes 'em over and gives them to John.

"When for John, who is ten, they have grown out of date, She justs makes 'em over for Jim, who is eight.

"When for Jim they become too ragged to fix, She just makes 'em over for Joe, who is six.

"And when little Joseph can't wear them no more, She just makes 'em over for Bill, who is four.

"And when for young Bill they no longer will do, She just makes 'em over for Ned, who is two.

"So you see, if I get enough clothing for Pete, The family is furnished with clothing complete."