ve the substantial
aid that it demands. The poor are the best missionaries to the poor, and
he who has gone hungry, suffered every pang of poverty and known
sharpest temptation to sin can best speak words that will save men and
women entering on the same path.

To this end Jan lives--as truly a priest to the people as if hands laid
upon him had consecrated him to the work, but all unconscious what power
it holds to the on-lookers, and only sure of the one word, the mission
watchword--"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these,
ye have done it unto Me."

HELEN CAMPBELL.

UNDER THE GRASSES.

What do you hide, O grasses! say,
Among your tangles green and high?
"Warm-hearted violets for May,
And rocking daisies for July."

What burden do you keep beneath
Your knotted green, that none may see?
"The prophecy of life and death,
A hint, a touch, a mystery."

What hope and passion should I find
If I should pierce your meshes through?
"A clover blossoming in the wind,
A wandering harebell budded blue."

DORA READ GOODALE.

"KITTY."

The Idler was hopelessly becalmed off Thomas's Point. Not a ripple could
be seen down the Chesapeake, and the locusts and pines along the shore
were shuddering uncomfortably with the heat of a July afternoon, hidden
halfway to their tops in the summer haze. What was to be done? Five
miles from home in a large sloop yacht filled with strangers from the
North, the crew left behind to be out of the way, and every one
thoroughly convinced that his neighbor was horribly bored!

Thornton gave the tiller a vicious shove, as if that would wake the
yacht up, and glared forward along the row of parasols protecting fair
faces from the sun and of hats cocked over noses that were screwed up
with feelings too deep for words, and more intense than those produced
by heat, he thought. By five o'clock we had sung every song that ever
was written, and flirtations were becoming desperate. Mollie Brogden,
comfortably lodged against the mast, was dropping her blue parasol lower
and lower over one of the New York men as their conversation grew more
and more intense with the heat, and Mrs. Brogden was becoming really
alarmed.

The situation was maddening! Nothing on board to eat; soft-shell crabs
and the best bill of fare of a Southern kitchen ordered at home for
seven o'