and a most appetizing odor came out, reminding Tim of his promised treat.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"You bet!" was the inelegant but emphatic response. · Tim reflected on his own real good fortune. He could get biscuits, cold beans, and perhaps doughnuts enough for them all.

"Tell you what, fellers," he said magnificently, “I was just a-goin' to order my bill of fare. I'll increase my order a little, have a party and invite you two. As it's rather suddint, we won't none of us bother 'bout party cloes. 'Greeable?"

"Reckon we air," was the quick response. Tim made a dive for the bakery, trying hard not to smell the coffee, nor think how much better a plate of hot beans would be than the same cold.

"Now," he said, reappearing, "all aboard. Follow me sharp."

You may be sure the two little ragamuffins did as were bidden.

they

""Taint much further," said Tim, at length. "I'm a little s'lect in my tastes, you see, so I live rather out of the way o' folks," laughed he.

Presently they struck the railroad, and then, in a few minutes, he stopped before an unused, dilapidated flag house.

"Walk in," he asked, politely holding open the door, which was only a plank. There certainly was not much room to spare when they were all in, but then they were sheltered, and all the warmer for being obliged to keep close together.

"Reckon we'd better interduce before grub, hadn't we? I'm Tim Mulligan-at your service, an' happy to meet you."

"The boys in the alley call us Speckle-Face and RedTop. I'm Speckle-Face, and he's Red-Top," said the spokesman.

"Now we're all right, and old friends," said Tim, complacently. "Let's pitch in."

He had spread the contents of his parcels on an old box, and without waiting for another invitation, didn't they "pitch in!" Tim watched them with solid şatisfaction, contenting himself with one small biscuit and half a doughnut. "I'm not so very pertic'ler about beans. Guess I won't indulge to-night," he said.

It did not take very long to clear up, even to the last crumb of Tim's spread.

"Now, sirs," said the brave little host, when it was gone and his guests showed signs of departing, "my accommerdations are not so very grand, but they're better than the storm. You'd better stop over night."

As his guests made no remonstrance to this suggestion, he made ready a bed for them, a little straw and a part of an old blanket.

"You bundle up together, and you'll stand it, I guess," said Tim.

"You're an awful good feller," said Speckle-Face, gratefully, as he pulled the blanket up round him, and in less than five minutes both were sound asleep.

It was cold over by the door, which did not quite fit, and Tim missed his blanket, but did not say anything. Something came to him as he lay there shivering. Sometimes he had crept into a church because it was warm there; he had caught at such times snatches of sermons about One who once lived on earth, was homeless, peor, and lonely-"like us fellers," thought Tim. But now this mysterious One was great, rich, and powerful and had a beautiful home. And those who would love and try to please Him could go and live with Him. He thought it over, as the bitter wind and storm came through the cracks upon him. He drew as far away as possible, up beside his little visitors, who lay sleeping so peacefully.

"I wonder if Jesus'd listen to a poor hunchy like me." And clasping his stiff little hands, Tim knelt and made

prayer:

his first "Dear Lord, I don't know who you are, nor where you live, but I wish you'd take me to your home, for I am so tired, and hungry, and cold. And I'll do everything I can, if you'll tell me how. Won't you please take me? Amen."

Then Tim lay down again, and somehow he did not mind the cold as before.

“I—wonder—when-He'll take me and how I'll get there," he thought dreamingly.

It was broad daylight before the two little visitors awoke, threw off the blanket and sat up.

"Hello!" said Speckle-Face, but Tim did not stir. "Hello!" piped Red-Top.

Then Speckle-Face shook him, but still Tim's eyes did not open, and Red-Top, putting his hand out on his face started back in terror.

'He's cold, like she was," he sobbed.

Tim's prayer had been answered; he had gone to that home where they shall hunger no more.

And I think he had found that, inasmuch as he had done it unto the least of earth's sorrowing ones, he had done it unto Him.

"

THE HINDOO'S PARADISE.

A Hindoo died,—a happy thing to do
When twenty years united to a shrew.
Released, he hopefully for entrance cries
Before the gates of Brahma's paradise.

"Hast been through purgatory?" Brahma said.

'I have been married,"-and he hung his head.
"Come in, come in, and welcome, too, my son!
Marriage and purgatory are as one."

In bliss extreme he entered heaven's door,
And knew the peace he ne'er had known before.

He scarce had entered in the garden fair,
Another Hindoo asked admission there.

The self-same question Brahma asked again:
"Hast been though purgatory?" "No-what then?"

"Thou canst not enter!" did the God reply.
"He who went in was there no more than I."
"All that is true, but he has married been,

And so on earth has suffered for all sin."

"Married? 'Tis well; for I've been married twice!" 'Begone! We'll have no fools in Paradise!”

HOME, SWEET HOME.-C. C. SOMERVILLE.

In the spring of 1863 two great armies were encamped on either side of the Rappahannock river, one dressed in blue and the other in gray. As twilight fell the bands on the Union side began to play, "The Star Spangled Banner," and "Rally Round the Flag." The challenge was taken up by those on the other side and they responded with "The Bonnie Blue Flag" and "Away Down South in Dixie." It was borne upon the soul of a single soldier in one of those bands of music to begin a sweeter, more tender air, and slowly as he played it all the instruments upon the Union side joined in, until finally a great and mighty chorus swelled up and down the army-"Home, Sweet Home." When they had finished there was no challenge yonder, for every band upon that further shore had taken up the lovely air so attuned to all that is holiest and dearest in human nature, and one chorus of the two great hosts went up to God. When the music had ceased, from the boys in gray came a challenge, "Three cheers for home!" and as they went resounding through the skies from both sides of the river, "something upon the soldiers' cheeks washed off the stains of powder." It was this incident which inspired the following poem:

The sun had dropped into the distant west,
The cannons ceased to roar, which tells of rest,
Rest from the shedding of a nation's blood,
Rest to lay their comrades 'neath the sod.

'Twas early spring, and calm and still the night,
The moon had risen, casting softest light;
On either side of stream the armies lay,
Waiting for morn, to then renew the fray.
So near together a sound was heard by all,
Each could hear the other's sentry-call,
The bivouac fires burned brightly on each hill,
And save the tramp of pickets all was still.

The Rappahannock silently flows on
Between the hills so fair to look upon,

Whose dancing waters, tinged with silver light,
Vie in their beauty with the starry night.

But list! from Northern hill there steal along
The softest strains of music and of song.
The "Starry Banner," our nation's glorious air,
Which tells to all of gallant flag "still there."

Then "Hail Columbia" a thousand voices sing
With all their soul, which makes the hill-tops ring.
From fire to fire, from tent to tent, then flew

The welcome words, "Lads sing the 'Boys in Blue'."
And well they sang. Each heart was filled with joy,
From first in rank to little drunimer-boy;

Then loud huzzas, and wildest cheers were given,
Which seemed to cleave the air and reach to heaven.

The lusty cheering reached the Southern ear,—
Men who courted danger, knew no fear,
Whilst talking of their scanty evening meal,
And each did grasp his trusty blade of steel.

Those very strains of music which of yore
Did raise the blood, are felt by them no more.

How changed! What now they scorn and taunt and jeer, Was once to them as sacred, just as dear;

And when the faintest echo seemed to die,

The last huzza been wafted to the sky,

The boys in blue had lain them down to rest,
With gun and bayonet closely hugged to breast,-

There came from Southern hill with gentle swell
The air of " Dixie," which was loved so well
By every one who wore the coat of gray,
And still revered and cherished to this day.

In "Dixie's land" they swore to live and die,
That was their watchword, that their battle cry.
Then rose on high the wild Confederate yell,
Resounding over every hill and dell;—

Cheer after cheer went up that starry night
From men as brave as ever saw the light.

Now all is still. Each side had played its part.
How simple songs will fire a soldier's heart!

But hark! From Rappahannock's stream there floats
Another air; but, ah! how sweet the notes-
Not those which lash men's passions into foam,
But, richest gem of song, 'twas "Home, Sweet Home,"
Played by the band, which reached the very soul,
And down the veteran's cheeks the tear-drop stole.
Men who would march to very cannon's mouth
Wept like children, from both North and South.