again, the path became easier to his feet, and two or three blades of grass appeared upon it, and some grasshoppers began singing on the bank beside it; and Gluck thought he had never heard such merry singing.

4. Then he went on for another hour, and his thirst increased so that he thought he should be forced to drink. But as he raised the flask, he saw a little child by the roadside crying piteously for water. Gluck put the bottle to the child's lips, and it drank all but a few drops. Then it smiled on him, and got up and ran down the hill, and Gluck looked after it till it became as small as a little star. And then there were all kinds of sweet flowers growing on the rocks, bright green moss, and pure white lilies; and the sky sent down such pure light that Gluck had never felt so happy in his life.

5. Again his thirst became unbearable, but when he looked at his flask there were only five or six drops left, and he would not venture to drink. At that moment he saw the little dog lying on the rocks, gasping for breath just as Hans and Schwartz had seen it; and Gluck stopped and looked at it, and then at the Golden River, not five hundred yards away. "Poor beastie," said the boy, "it'll be dead when I come down again if I don't help it." Its eye turned towards him so mournfully that he could not resist; and he opened the flask and poured all the water into the dog's mouth.

6. A great change at once took place. The dog vanished, but in the spot where it had been stood the King of the Golden River; and he stooped and plucked a lily that grew at his feet. "The water which has been refused to the cry of the weary and dying," said he, "is unholy, though it may have been blessed by every saint in heaven;

but the water which is found in the vessel of mercy is holy, though it may have been defiled with corpses."

7. On the white leaves of the lily there hung three drops of clear dew, and these the king shook into the flask which Gluck held in his hand. "Cast these into the river," he said, "and then go down the other side of the mountains into Treasure Valley." As he spoke, the figure of the dwarf began to vanish. The playing colors of his robe formed themselves into a prismatic mist of dewy light; he stood for an instant veiled with them as with the belt of a broad rainbow. Then the colors grew faint, and the mist rose in the air.

8. And Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden River, and its waves were as clear as crystal, and as brilliant as the sun. And when he cast the three drops of dew into the stream, there opened where they fell a small circular whirlpool, into which the waters descended with a musical sound. Gluck stood watching it for some time, very much disappointed because the river did not turn into gold. Yet he obeyed his friend, the dwarf, and went down the other side of the mountain towards the valley in which he had once lived, and which was called Treasure Valley; and as he went he thought he heard the noise of water working its way under the ground. And when he came again in sight of Treasure Valley, behold a river, like the Golden River, was springing from a new cleft of the rocks above it, and was flowing, in thousands of little streams, among the dry heaps of sand.

9. And as the boy gazed, fresh grass sprung beside the new streams, and creeping plants grew and climbed among the moistened soil. Young flowers opened suddenly along the river banks, as stars leap out when twilight is deepen

ing, and thickets of myrtle, and tendrils of vine, cast lengthening shadows over the valley as they grew. And thus the valley became a garden again, and the inheritance which had been lost by cruelty was regained by love.

10. And Gluck went and dwelt in the valley, and the poor were never driven from his door; so that his barns became full of corn, and his house of treasure. And, for him, the river had indeed become a river of gold. And to this day the people of that valley point out the place where the three drops of dew were cast into the stream; and at the top of the cataract are still to be seen Two BLACK STONES, round which the waters howl mournfully every day at sunset; and these stones are still called by the people of the valley the BLACK BROTHERS.

NEW WORDS.

JOHN RUSKIN.

FROM SHORE TO SHORE.

1. From shore to shore the bonny boat
Goes and returns each day,
O'erloaded with its human freight,
The old, young, sad, and gay.
The boat is strong, the waters clear,
The journey is not long,

The skies o'erhead are soft and blue,

And the boatman's arm is strong.

2. Would that adown the stream of life
All barks might safely glide;
But the other shore is far away,

And the river between is wide.
Some days the skies are overcast,
Some days they are glad and blue,
Some boats are wrecked on the cruel shoals
Ere the journey is halfway through.

3. And others weather the sudden storms
And steer from the rocks away,
And out of the darkness of their fears
Sail into the perfect day.

But need we fear when we think of it?
For whether the way be long,

Or whether the waves be rough or smooth,
The arm of our Lord is strong.

4. And trusting him, we may surely hope
That all in his own good way,

He will take us over the waters deep,
And at life's soft twilight gray

Still bear us on through the darksome hour
Of night, and its shadows drear,
Till we step at last on the other shore
Where there's naught of care or fear.