them, I think we can agree that it is always fitting to preach the gospel of beauty in the commonplace. Look about your own vicinity and find heaven. The grand and beautiful are there if you have eyes for them."

And that was the gospel which John Burroughs preached to the very end of his days.

BEN BOLT

BEN BOLT

Don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt,Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown,

Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile,

And trembled with fear at your frown?

In the old churchyard in the valley, Ben Bolt, In a corner obscure and alone,

They have fitted a slab of the granite so gray, And Alice, lies under the stone.

Under the hickory tree, Ben Bolt,

Which stood at the foot of the hill, Together we've lain in the noonday shade, And listened to Appleton's mill.

The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt, The rafters have tumbled in,

And a quiet which crawls round the walls as

you gaze

Has followed the olden din.

Do you mind of the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt, At the edge of the pathless wood,

And the button-ball tree with its motley limbs, Which nigh by the doorstep stood?

The cabin to ruin has gone, Ben Bolt,

The tree you would seek for in vain; And where once the lords of the forest waved, Are grass and the golden grain.

And don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt,
With the master so cruel and grim,
And the shaded nook in the running brook
Where the children went to swim?
Grass grows on the master's grave, Ben Bolt,
The spring of the brook is dry,

And of all the boys who were schoolmates then
There are only you and I.

There is change in the things I loved, Ben Bolt, They have changed from the old to the new; But I feel in the depths of my spirit the truth, There never was change in you. Twelvemonths twenty have passed, Ben Bolt, Since first we were friends-yet I hail

Your presence a blessing, your friendship a

truth,

Ben Bolt of the salt-sea gale.

Thomas Dunn English.