the very date of their forgiveness. John wakened even clearer in mind than usual that afternoon. He recognized his old chum at a glance, and Josie—now Bert's wife. Yes, he comprehended that. He was holding a hand of each when another figure entered. His thin, white fingers loosened their clasp, and he held a hand toward the new comer.       "Here," he said, "is my best friend in the world—Bert, you and Josie will love her, I know; for this is Mrs.—Mrs."—"Mrs. Miller,"       said the radiant little woman.—"Yes,—Mrs. Miller," said John, very proudly.     

  

  

       RHYMES OF RAINY DAYS     

  

  

       THE TREE-TOAD.     

   "'Scurious-like," said the tree-toad,     "I've twittered far rain all day; And I got up soon, And I hollered till noon—     But the sun, hit blazed away, Till I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole, Weary at heart, and sick at soul! 

 "Dozed away far an hour, And I tackled the thing agin; And I sung, and sung, Till I knowed my lung Was jest about give in; And then, thinks I, ef hit don't rain now. There're nothin' in singin', anyhow!    "Once in awhile some Would come a drivin' past; And he'd hear my cry, And stop and sigh—     Till I jest laid back, at last, And I hollered rain till I thought my th'oat Would bust right open at ever' note!    "But I fetched her! O I fetched her!—     'Cause a little while ago, As I kindo' set, With one eye shet, And a-singin' soft and low, A voice drapped down on my fevered brain, Sayin',—' Ef you'll jest hush I'll rain!'" 

  

  

       A WORN-OUT PENCIL.     

   Welladay! Here I lay You at rest—all worn away, O my pencil, to the tip Of our old companionship! Memory Sighs to see What you are, and used to be, Looking backward to the time When you wrote your earliest rhyme!—    When I sat Filing at Your first point, and dreaming that Your initial song should be Worthy of posterity. With regret I forget If the song be living yet, Yet remember, 

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