sinking ship till she sank lower and lower, and at last went out of sight. The brave officers swam out of the whirling waters of the wreck, and the Republic was no more. The ship was lost, but the people were saved, and the honor of human nature was saved. It was shown how bravely and even cheerfully men and women and children could face fearful peril and keep their courage. THE TRUE STORY OF AN OLD HAWTHORN TREE WHEN it was young, it was very happy. It stood in the deep grass where daisies and buttercups grew, and sleepy, kind-eyed cows used to lie under its shade, and birds used to build their nests in its branches. It was a tree with an affectionate nature, and it was very fond of the birds, and always rustled a praise of their singing, and tried to hold its leaves close together to make a shelter for them when it rained. And how sweet it was when the pink and white buds began to peep out and grow big ger, and pinker, and whiter every day, until, some fine morning, the whole tree was a mass of fragrant blossom, and the air all around it was perfumed. Then the little children used to come to gather "the may," as they called it, and roll about on the grass, and dance and sing, and make wreaths for their heads, and have little feasts in the shade, and enjoy themselves until they were tired, and had to go home and leave the Hawthorn Tree to the birds' twitter and the soft warm night wind again. When it grew older and sad times came and all was changed, even to the very air it breathed, the Hawthorn Tree used to remember those days with an aching heart. "Oh," it used to sigh with all its leaves, "if I could only bloom again as I did then, if I could only see the children dancing, and see them with rosy faces and laughing eyes, instead of always so pale and sad and dirty. Everything is dirty now, even the birds have soot on their wings, and can't keep their nests clean." The change in its happy life had come about so gradually that the Hawthorn Tree could scarcely tell when first it had begun. It had an idea, however, that the first signs of it appeared on a spring morning when it had noticed years and years ago that the smoke of great London town seemed nearer. It had been very busy blooming at the time, and it was not quite sure that it was not mistaken, but later in the year, when it had more time to notice, it began to be quite certain that somehow the smoke had advanced more into the country. This puzzled it very much for a long time; it did not know how long, but there came a time when it heard a sort of explanation. It heard it from two laborers who stopped to sit down and rest under it on their way home after their day's work. "Lunnon town," said one of them, wiping his brow with his rough hand, "Lunnon town, it do be growin' wonderful.' "So it be, man; so it be," answered the other. The years passed by - a great many years and as each year passed, the dark cloud overhanging London town crept nearer and nearer, and the sky, which had always be fore been fair and clear, began to look as if its blue were dulled. More than this, the Hawthorn Tree could see not only the dark pall of smoke, but the chimneys themselves which poured it forth. Not only the chimneys of houses, but tall chimneys of factories of all kinds, from which volumes of blackness rolled all day, and sometimes, it seemed, all night. Then there came a cruel day for the Hawthorn Tree. in a It had noticed that not far from it place it could quite easily see — something was being built a large building. Men were at work constantly. At length it began to grow taller in one part than in another, much taller. One day at noon some men passed, talking. one. 66 Yes," said the other, "they expect to finish it and set to work soon, " and they went their way. "It is a chimney," said the Hawthorn Tree, "a factory chimney!" It was just putting out its first blossoms, |