less ultramarine of soul we ever find out of Heaven, domes over the fairy world of a child's young, joyous heart!

As I go to bed, so tired that night, I think I have left the orphan Blanche in the best of homes, and I can't be too glad or too happy about it. The joy we feel in finding and achieving another's happiness is the sweetest balm God ever distils for human souls. The joy we have given another is the one rådiant diamond on the bosom of peace; it will sparkle through every fold of sackcloth with which life, death, or destiny may shroud our lot.

There may be one link of steel in that earthly lot; so cold and strong, no change, no hope can break or brighten it; yet if we wreathe around one lowly, lonely, helpless child-heart a wreath of hope or heart's-ease, the balm of a thousand soul-flowers may come to us, though the steel link of that trial we must have still chokes and stifles our joy. Blanche might have been a poor, blind victim of selfish cruelty; now those blue, bright, beautiful orbs look out only on loving faces!

How much good I might have done before, if I had only thought!

"Oh the wounds I might have healed,

The human sorrow and smart;

And yet never was in my soul

To play so ill a part;

But evil is wrought by want of thought,
As well as want of heart."

CHAPTER XXI,

GONE.

"Strive for the truth unto the death, and the Lord shall fight for thee."

SOME One is coming up-stairs. It does n't sound like a man, nor yet is it Harry's quick, light step. There is a pause at the door, and then a feeble, irresolute knock. I open. It is Harry, after

all, though it did n't sound like him. But what is the matter? He looks as if he had lost all of his friends. His eyes are red and swollen. He has two books in his hands, and a slate. I know the books; one is "Playfair's Euclid," and the other “ 'Day's Algebra."

66

Why, what is the matter, Harry?" I say, as I take his cold hand in mine.

He went

66 He's gone, he's gone! I saw him go this morning. at ten o'clock, and I could n't even speak to him, or shake hands with him. I could only look at him, as I stood on the sidewalk. He did n't turn his head, as they moved on. I could n't bear to see him there, marching in that mud. I'd rather walk there myself. I'm only a boy;" and the boy actually sobbed. "Who 's gone, Harry?"

"Mr. Heart has gone, gone with the regiment."

"Gone! gone!" said I. "Did you know he was going? Are you sure it was he, Harry?" I said, my voice suddenly choking. "Yes, I went to his room this morning. Mr. Melit's little boy is to be buried to-day; so the store is closed, and I thought I'd take my books and go and see Mr. Heart. He always told me to come any day when I had time. Ever since he has had fire in his room evenings, he has let me come there three evenings a week and recite to him in Algebra and Geometry, and only last night I had just got to the evolution of compound quantities in Algebra, and as far as the ninth proposition in the fourth book of Euclid. He explained it to me so plainly how to describe a

circle about a given square. Here are Mr. Heart's figures, all over the slate, and there is the square," said Harry, sobbing again.

"Let me have that slate, Harry," said I, "and you may take mine. I'll write your name on it, and here's a place to put in a cord to fasten your pencil and sponge ;" and I gave Harry mine, which was really much better for him to carry about than that big, cracked, clumsy one, with one side of the frame off. "That 's Mr. Heart's slate," said Harry; "he lent it to me." "Very well; leave it here till he comes back; I'll take care of it."

"Perhaps he'll never come back," said Harry. "People we love best very often die, or get killed."

"We'll try and not think of that," said I, "and to-night you may bring your books around, and I 'll teach you in your Algebra and Euclid. Mr. Heart will be glad to know that you are getting on well with them. It is a comfort, when our friends are away, to know we are doing what they like to have us do, and you can go on just as fast as you like with your German and French Ollendorf."

I have given Harry, for three months, lessons in French and German. He learns very readily and rapidly, and what is more unusual, he never seems to forget anything once learned. Last Tuesday evening he came in with two bounds up the stairs, with a laugh in his eye, and handed me his Ollendorf, open at the fifth lesson, saying, "Il vaut mieux rester ici que de se,” "It is better to stay here than to go a-walking ;" and as he looks at me and sees me more elaborately dressed than usual, he says, in German, "Erwarten sie freunde?"—"Do you expect friends?" He recited perfectly to me the whole of the forty-seventh lesson in the German Ollendorf, without a single mistake in the lesson or the exercise.

"Did Mr. Heart tell you he was going last night?"

"Oh, no! I don't believe he meant to go then, but some news came this morning, or very late last night. I heard the newsboys crying in the street about a terrible battle. Mrs. Cater thinks something made him start right off, for he left things in his room just as they were. Besides, he told me to come around again on Thursday evening; so I know he could n't have been sure of going."

"What did he talk about last night, Harry?"

"He was quite funny and bright. I never saw him more

lively. But there's one thing I'm sorry now that I did. I would n't have said it for anything, if I had known he was going away. I only did it to tease him a little."

"What was that, Harry?"

66

Why, I talked about you, how you were trying to teach me to talk French; and he asked me all sorts of questions in French, to puzzle me; and at last I told him in French, just for fun, that I thought you would marry Mr. Glenstein one of these days; and I said something like it to him the day after Mrs. Page's funeral."

"How could you say that, Harry ?" and then I thought I had n't seen Mr. Heart since the funeral.

"I don't know what made me, I'm sure. He looked very sober, and did n't talk any more all the evening, but went on with my Algebra, without saying a word; and I was a little sorry, but if I had only seen him to-night I would have told him something else."

"What, Harry?”

"Why, that I did n't believe you cared a button for Mr. Glenstein. I'd say anything to bring back one of those bright smiles on his face again. I'd say that you must have some great, wonderful man if you ever married.”

"Harry," said I, slowly, and trying to speak calmly, "don't you ever say anything which you don't think is true, even in jest. Unless you know people are going to marry each other, never put their names together. You may offend somebody, or do some mischief. Besides, Mr. Glenstein might be annoyed, if by any possibility he should hear of it.”

"I don't think he would be offended," said Harry, with a kind of expressive half-smile momentarily gleaming through his tearful eyes, and playing on his quivering lips.

Wil

"You don't work to-day, Harry; what would you like to do?" "I would like it if I could, but I can't afford it, to buy a wreath or cross of white flowers and lay on little Willie Melit's coffin, and a few white roses to put in his folded hands. lie was very fond of me, and I loved him very much, and I should have felt bad enough to-day if Mr. Heart had n't gone away. I don't see why all the troubles must come together;" and Harry's big brown eyes filled with tears again. "They make me feel as if I want to go away or die, too. If I was only big enough, I would have gone off to-day in Mr. Heart's regiment. I'd be happy wherever I was, so long as I could see the top of his cap

marching on before me. heads.

His hat is wiser than most men's

"He seems to me like a brother; he always had a kind word for me. He has done me ever-so-many favors. I should n't have known anything if it had n't been for him, nothing but long division and the multiplication table, and now I might as well be a dunce again. He put thoughts in my head, and made me feel that even I, a poor stupid boy, might live to be somebody yet."

"Who calls you stupid, Harry?

"Mr. Gala; because when I first went to the store I did n't know the difference between quarto, octavo, and duodecimo, and he has called me stupid ever since. But Mr. Heart never called me stupid. If he knew anybody was stupid he would n't say so; he could n't hurt any one's feelings. He was good enough to be a minister, and great enough to be a king. I never knew what it was to have such a friend before, and I don't know but I would rather have him sick and take care of him, or die and watch with him till the last, and comfort him a little, if I could, than to see him go as I did this morning, and not know what danger he may go into, or what is going to become of him.

"It is dreadful to think of a bullet being aimed at his noble head, or a sword at his great heart, or to have that hand, that writes such wonderful things, taken off in one moment; and if he should be killed, you could n't find one to put in his place in the whole world, any more than you could put a star in Sirius's place tomorrow, if to-night he should go out of the sky forever."

I did n't feel like reasoning with Harry about honored graves and patriots' laurels, or repeating the comforting words, "Tis sweet for one's country to die;" for I could n't help thinking it is sweet for one's country to live. I said, “ Harry, here are two dollars; go and buy a wreath for little Willie's coffin, and some white rose-buds to put in his hands. You don't know what good there's in store for you yet. You and I ought to be thankful that we are still in the land of the living. You may grow up to be a man like Mr. Heart, yet. You are not stupid, Harry; I think you are bright; you can learn anything if you only try. I will be your friend, and you shall be mine. 1 should be lonely without you, Harry."

Harry went out. I looked at Ernest Heart's slate; the last delicate traces of his hand were there, neat, clear, correct, - the sixth root extracted in the example of the evolution of compound