creature
crouched at her feet like a small lion bound to guard her and her house
forever more.

"Don't lie on that cold stone, Ben; come here and let me try to comfort
you," she said, stooping to wipe away the great drops that kept
rolling down the brown cheek half hidden in her dress.

But Ben put his arm over his face, and sobbed out with a fresh burst of
grief:

"You can't; you didn't know him! Oh, daddy! daddy!--if I'd only seen
you jest once more!"

No one could grant that wish; but Miss Celia did comfort him, for
presently the sound of music floated out from the parlor--music so
soft, so sweet, that involuntarily the boy stopped his crying to
listen; then quieter tears dropped slowly, seeming to soothe his pain
as they fell, while the sense of loneliness passed away, and it grew
possible to wait till it was time to go to father in that far-off
country lovelier than golden California.

How long she played Miss Celia never minded, but when she stole out to
see if Ben had gone she found that other friends, even kinder than
herself, had taken the boy into their gentle keeping. The wind had sung
a lullaby among the rustling lilacs, the moon's mild face looked
through the leafy arch to kiss the heavy eyelids, and faithful Sancho
still kept guard beside his little master, who, with his head pillowed
on his arm, lay fast asleep, dreaming, happily, that "Daddy had come
home again."

(_To be continued._)

[Illustration: A TALK OVER THE HARD TIMES.]

COMMON SENSE IN THE HOUSEHOLD.

BY MARGARET VANDEGRIFT.

When you're writing or reading or sewing, it's right
To sit, if you can, with your back to the light;
And then, it is patent to every beholder,
The light will fall gracefully over your shoulder.

[Illustration]

Now here is a family, sensible, wise,
Who all have the greatest regard for their eyes;
They first say, "Excuse me," which also is right,
And then all sit down with their backs to the light.

But their neighbors, most unhygienic, can't see
Why they do it, and think that they cannot agree,
And always decide they've been having a fight,
When they merely are turning their backs to the light.

SECRETS OF THE ATLANTIC CABLE.

BY WILLIAM H. RIDEING.

I believe that the youngsters in our family consider my study a very
pleasant room. There are some books, pictures, and hunting implements
in it, and I have quite a large number of curious things stored in