"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?" 66 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, Cover the rough and the rude of earth With a veil of leaves and flowers, And mark with the opening bud and cup 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 Scatter the germs of the beautiful Scatter the germs of the beautiful 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 The gates of heaven were left ajar; 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, They fell like dew upon the flowers, 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, So full of meaning, pure and bright, 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 The soft-cheeked peaches blushed and fell, Her lissome form more perfect grew, We thought her lovely when she came 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; It came upon us by degrees: The knowledge that our God had sent We shuddered with unlanguaged pain, We cried aloud in our belief, Our hearts are broken, Babie Bell! At last he came, the messenger, The messenger from unseen lands: We wove the roses round her brow,- 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! |