ay in the house and in the garden. When Lizzy was so sick
that she could not play with him, he would come and lay himself down at
her bed side, and appeared to be very sad on her account. When she died
and was buried, the dog followed with the parents in the funeral, to the
grave yard where Lizzy was laid away. One day, about five months
afterwards, I went with her father to see the grave of Lizzy. As we went
into the grave yard, we walked slowly along, reading the names of
persons buried there, while the dog followed us. We soon missed the dog,
supposing he had wandered into some other part of the cemetery. But when
we came within a few yards of Lizzy's grave we saw him sitting at its
head, leaning against the stone which was erected in memory of the
lovely daughter. It was a very affecting scene--the attachment of the
dog, as well as the power of his memory. Dogs are faithful creatures,
and we can never bear to see them abused. Be kind to them and they will
be kind to you.

JULIA'S SUNSET WALK.

It was a beautiful June day, just at the sun's setting, when Julia
Easworth went to visit the resting place of a dear grandmother. While
she was in the grave-yard, meditating on the loss of one of her best
earthly friends, she saw a lady dressed in mourning busily engaged in
doing something near a rose bush that grew at the foot of a little
mound, at a short distance from where she stood. Julia walked along and
came near where she was, and laid her hand gently upon the woman and
said, "Madam, is this your little mound?"

"Oh, no, my child; it is my dear Elise's grave."

"And is it long since you laid her here, ma'am," said Julia.

"Only a few weeks," was the reply; "there were buds on this rose bush
when I brought it here."

"And was it her's," asked Julia, as she stooped down to inhale the rich
fragrance of the beautiful flower.

"Yes, my child, it was a dear treasure to her. My Elise was a good
child, she was my Idol, but my Heavenly Father has seen best to remove
her from me. I only cared to live that I might be useful to her in
giving her such instructions as might be a blessing to her. I almost
adored her, but she is gone from me, and I am alone. I know she is
happy, because she was good."

"And have you always lived here in our town," asked Julia.

"Oh, no! I am from Italy. When my child was but two years old, I left my
native shores, and with my only relative, my father, followed my young
husband, who