"I hain't seen no rascals."

"Of course ye havn't, 'cause yer blind! I know that that man is a villun; and if they don't arrest him for murder afore we leave this train, I'll miss my guess. I can read human natur' like a book."

There was another period of silence, broken by her saying, "I wish I knew that this was the train for Chicago." "'Course it is."

"How do you know?"

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66

'Cause it is."

'Waal, I know it hain't; but if you are contented to rush along to destruction, I shan't say a word. Only when yer throat is being cut, don't call out that I didn't warn ye!"

The peanut boy came along, and the old man reached down for his wallet.

"Philetus, ye shan't squander that money after peanuts!" she exclaimed, using the one hand to catch his arm, and the other to wave the boy on.

"Didn't I earn it?"

66

'Yaas, you sold two cows to get money to go on this visit; but it's half gone now, and the land only knows how we'll get home!"

The boy passed on and the flag of truce was hung out for another brief time. She recommenced hostilities by remarking,

"I wish I hadn't cum."

He looked up, and then out of the window.

"I know what ye want to say," she hissed; "but it's a blessed good thing for you that I did come! If ye'd come alone, ye'd have been murdered and gashed and scalped, and sunk into the river afore now!"

"Pooh!"

"Yes, pooh, 'f ye want to, but I know!"

He leaned back; she settled herself anew; and by and by, He nodded

She nodded

And, in sleep, their gray heads touched; and his arm found its way along the back of the seat, and his hand rested on her shoulder.

It was only their way.

-Hearth and Home.

SCATTER THE GERMS OF THE BEAUTIFUL.

Scatter the germs of the beautiful,

By the wayside let them fall,

That the rose may spring by the cottage gate,
And the vine on the garden wall;

Cover the rough and the rude of earth

With a veil of leaves and flowers,

And mark with the opening bud and cup
The march of summer hours!

Scatter the germs of the beautiful

In the holy shrine of home;

Let the pure, and the fair, and the graceful ther● In the loveliest lustre come;

Leave not a trace of deformity

In the temple of the heart,

But gather about its hearth the gems
Of nature and of art!

Scatter the germs of the beautiful
In the temples of our God-
The God who starred the uplifted sky,
And flowered the trampled sod!
When he built a temple for himself,
And a home for his priestly race,
He reared each arm in symmetry,
And covered each line in grace.

Scatter the germs of the beautiful
In the depths of the human soul!
They shall bud, and blossom, and bear the fruit,
While the endless ages roll;

Plant with the flowers of charity

The portals of the tomb,

And the fair and pure about thy path

In Paradise shall bloom.

THE BALLAD OF BABIE BELL.-T. B. ALDRICH.

Have you not heard the poets tell
How came the dainty Babie Bell
Into this world of ours?

The gates of heaven were left ajar;
With folded hands and dreamy eyes,
Wandering out of Paradise,

She saw this planet, like a star,

Hung in the glistening depths of even,—

GGGG

Its bridges running to and fro,

O'er which the white-winged angels go,
Bearing the holy dead to heaven.
She touched a bridge of flowers,-those feet,
So light they did not bend the bells
Of the celestial asphodels!

They fell like dew upon the flowers,
Then all the air grew strangely sweet-
And thus came dainty Babie Bell
Into this world of ours.

She came and brought delicious May.

The swallows built beneath the eaves; Like sunlight in and out the leaves, The robins went the livelong day; The lily swung its noiseless bell,

And o'er the porch the trembling vine Seemed bursting with its veins of wine. How sweetly, softly, twilight fell! O, earth was full of singing-birds, And opening spring-tide flowers, When the dainty Babie Bell

Came to this world of ours!

O Babie, dainty Babie Bell,
How fair she grew from day to day!
What woman-nature filled her eyes,
What poetry within them lay!
Those deep and tender twilight eyes,

So full of meaning, pure and bright,
As if she yet stood in the light
Of those oped gates of Paradise.
And so we loved her more and more;
Ah, never in our hearts before
Was love so lovely born:
We felt we had a link between
This real world and that unseen―
The land beyond the morn.
And for the love of those dear eyes,
For love of her whom God led forth
(The mother's being ceased on earth
When Babie came from Paradise),—
For love of Him who smote our lives,

And woke the chords of joy and pain, We said, Dear Christ!-our hearts bent down Like violets after rain.

And now the orchards, which were white
And red with blossoms when she came,
Were rich in autumn's mellow prime.
The clustered apples burnt like flame,

The soft-cheeked peaches blushed and fell,
The ivory chestnut burst its shell,
The grapes hung purpling in the grange;
And time wrought just as rich a change
In little Babie Bell.

Her lissome form more perfect grew,
And in her features we could trace,
In softened curves, her mother's face!
Her angel-nature ripened too.

We thought her lovely when she came
But she was holy, saintly now:-
Around her pale, angelic brow
We saw a slender ring of flame.

God's hand had taken away the seal

That held the portals of her speech; And oft she said a few strange words

Whose meaning lay beyond our reach. She never was a child to us,

We never held her being's key,

We could not teach her holy things;
She was Christ's self in purity.

It came upon us by degrees:
We saw its shadow ere it fell,

The knowledge that our God had sent
His messenger for Babie Bell.

We shuddered with unlanguaged pain,
And all our hopes were changed to fears,
And all our thoughts ran into tears
Like sunshine into rain.

We cried aloud in our belief,
"O, smite us gently, gently, God!
Teach us to bend and kiss the rod,
And perfect grow through grief."
Ah, how we loved her, God can tell;
Her heart was folded deep in ours.

Our hearts are broken, Babie Bell!

At last he came, the messenger,

The messenger from unseen lands:
And what did dainty Babie Bell?
She only crossed her little hands,
She only looked more meek and fair!
We parted back her silken hair,

We wove the roses round her brow,-
White buds, the summer's drifted snow,-
Wrapt her from head to foot in flowers;
And then went dainty Babie Bell

Out of this world of ours!

GRANDMOTHER'S SPECTACLES.

T. DE WITT TALMAGE.

But sometimes these optical instruments get old and dim. Grandmother's pair had done good work in their day. They were large and round, so that when she saw a thing she saw it. There was a crack across the upper part of the glass, for many a baby had made them a plaything, and all the grandchildren had at some time tried them on. They had sometimes been so dimmed with tears that she had to take them off and wipe them on her apron before she could see through them at all. Her "second sight" had now come, and she would often let her glasses slip down, and then look over the top of them while she read. Grandmother was pleased at this return of her vision. Getting along so well without them, she often lost her spectacles. Sometimes they would lie for weeks untouched on the shelf in the red morocco case, the flap unlifted. She could now look off upon the hills, which for thirty years she had not been able to see from the piazza. Those were mistaken who thought she had no poetry in her soul. You could see it in the way she put her hand under the chin of a primrose, or cultured the geranium. Sitting on the piazza one evening, in her rockingchair, she saw a ladder of cloud set up against the sky, and thought how easy it would be for a spirit to climb it. She saw in the deep glow of the sunset a chariot of fire, drawn by horses of fire, and wondered who rode in it. She saw a vapor floating thinly away, as though it were a wing ascending, and Grandmother muttered in a low tone: "A vapor that appeareth for a little season, and then vanisheth away." She saw a hill higher than any she had ever seen before on the horizon, and on the top of it a king's castle. The motion of the rocking-chair became slighter and slighter, until it stopped. The spectacles fell out of her lap. A child, hearing it, ran to pick them up, and cried: Grandmother, what is the matter?" She answered not. She never spake again. Second-sight had come! Her vision had grown better and better. What she could not see now was not worth seeing. Not now through a glass darkly! Grandmother had no more need of spectacles!