,
and spoil all my pleasure. I does want to do it myself. Yer won't be
so mean as that, after listening to what I've been telling yer, will
yer?"

"Not I, my boy, not I. Just let me go and see Jessie and her mother,
and whatever I can do for them, I'll do it through you."

A little persuasion, and then "His Royal Highness" and I made our way
to the tenement and began climbing the stairs. We had gone up five
flights and were mounting the sixth, when the boy stopped suddenly and
motioned for me to listen. The voice of a woman reached my ear--a
voice with deep grief in every tone--saying, "God is our refuge and
strength, a very present help in time of trouble." A pause--then a
sob--and the voice wailing rather than singing:

Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, oh, leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me.
All my trust on Thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring,
Cover my defenceless head,
With the shadow of Thy wing.

The boy grasped my hand a moment--gasped out "That's Jessie's mother,
something's happened"--and then bounded up the stairs and into the
room. I followed him and found sure enough something had happened, for
Jessie had gone to the land of pure delight, and the mother stood
weeping beside her dead. On the face of Jessie lingered a smile, for
she was well at last. In her hand was a pure white rosebud, the last
flower Joe had carried to her the evening before. Her last message to
him was that she had gone to the land of pure delight, and for him to
be sure and follow her there.

I draw the curtain over the boy's grief. His savings bought the coffin
in which Jessie was laid under the green sod. Where "His Royal
Highness" is, must for the present remain a secret between Joe and
myself. His face and his feet are turned toward the land of pure
delight. His heart is there already. You have his story, and it may
help you to remember that some paupers wear fine linen and broadcloth,
while here and there a prince is to be found clothed in rags.

PATIENT GRISELDA.

Many years ago, in a lovely country of Italy, shut in by Alpine
mountains, there lived a noble young duke, who was lord over all the
land. He was one of a long line of good princes, and his people loved
him dearly. They had only one fault to find with him, for he made good
laws, and ruled them tenderly; but alas! he would not marry. So his
people feared he