written on the plain headstone would blaze in letters of golden fire on the page where only the names of the Immortals burn!

And by his side close by his side — lies that one generous, faithful friend who was true to him and tried to comfort him through all his anguish and loneliness, when he was poor, despised, and desolate, when he went down into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, in a foreign land, helpless and otherwise, as it seemed, utterly alone.

It seemed so fitting that he should lie there, -so beautiful. It is such a great and noble thing to be a faithful friend. Surely there can be nothing greater and sweeter than to be this one lovable thing. To be faithful and a comfort through failure, grief, misfortune, discouragement, illness, even to the gates of death. All this Joseph Severn was to John Keats, and because of this, his name, too, is written in gold upon the page of the immortal ones. One cannot remember the one without the other, one cannot lay flowers upon the grave of one without scattering them upon the turf growing above the kind, true heart of the other.

The kind, faithful heart is as great as the marvelous genius which so burned and glowed that it can never be forgotten.

FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. Abridged.

SAY NOT, THE STRUGGLE NAUGHT
AVAILETH

SAY not, the struggle naught availeth,
The labor and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,

And as things have been they remain.

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed,
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers,
And, but for you, possess the field.

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
Seem here no painful inch to gain,
Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

And not by eastern windows only,

When daylight comes, comes in the light, In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly! But westward, look, the land is bright.

ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.

THE BLIND MAN AND THE TALKING
DOG

THERE WAS once an old man whom Fortune (whose own eyes are bandaged) had deprived of his sight. She had taken his hearing also, so that he was deaf. Poor he had always been, and as Time had stolen his youth and strength from him, they had only left a light burden for death to carry when he should come the old man's way.

But Love (who is blind also) had given the Blind Man a Dog, who led him out in the morning to a seat in the sun under the crab tree, and held his hat for wayside alms, and brought him safely home at sunset. The Dog was wise and faithful, often are,

- as dogs

but the wonder of him was that In which will be seen the

he could talk. difference between dogs and men, most of whom can talk; whilst it is a matter for admiration if they are wise and faithful.

One day the Mayor's little son came down the road, and by the hand he held his playmate Aldegunda.

"Give the poor blind man a penny," said she.

You are always wanting me to give away my money," replied the boy, peevishly. "It is well that my father is the richest man in the town, and that I have a whole silver crown yet in my pocket."

But he put the penny into the hat which the Dog held out, and the Dog gave it to his master.

"Heaven bless you," said the Blind Man. Amen," said the Dog.

Aldegunda! Aldegunda!" cried the boy, dancing with delight. "Here's a dog who can talk. I would give my silver crown for

him. Old man, I say, old man! Will you sell me your dog for a silver crown?"

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My master is deaf as well as blind," said the Dog.

"What a miserable old creature he must be," said the boy, compassionately.

"Men do not smile when they are miserable, do they?" said the Dog; " "and my master smiles sometimes when the sun warms right through our coats to our bones; when he feels the hat shake against his

knee as the pennies drop in; and when I lick his hand."

"But for all that, he is a poor, wretched old beggar, in want of everything," persisted the boy. "Now I am the Mayor's only son, and he is the richest man in the town.. Come and live with me, and I will give the Blind Man my silver crown. I should be perfectly happy if I had a talking dog of my own."

"It is worth thinking of," said the Dog. "I should certainly like a master who was perfectly happy. You are sure that there is nothing else that you wish for?”

"I wish I were a man," replied the boy. "To do exactly as I choose, and have plenty of money to spend, and holidays all the year round."

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That sounds well," said the Dog.

"Per

haps I had better wait till you grow up. There is nothing else that you want, I suppose?

?"

"I want a horse," said the boy, "a real black charger. My father ought to know that I am too old for a hobbyhorse. It vexes me to look at it."