helf away with her;
and no more was ever heard of any of the lot.

"For the future, my child," said the widow, "I hope you will always do
just as you are told, whatever So-so may say."

"I will, Mother," said little Joan (And she did.) But the house-dog sat
and blinked. He dared not speak, he was in disgrace.

I do not feel quite sure about So-so. Wild dogs often amend their ways
far on this side of the gallows, and the faithful sometimes fall; but
when any one begins by being only So-so, he is very apt to be So-so to
the end. So-sos so seldom change.

But this one was _very_ soft and nice, and he got no cake that
tea-time. On the whole, we will hope that he lived to be a good dog ever
after.

THE TRINITY FLOWER.

A LEGEND.

"Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own
The wiser love severely kind:
Since, richer for its chastening grown,
I see, whereas I once was blind."
_The Clear Vision, J. G. Whittler_

In days of yore there was once a certain hermit, who dwelt in a cell,
which he had fashioned for himself from a natural cave in the side of a
hill.

Now this hermit had a great love for flowers, and was moreover learned
in the virtues of herbs, and in that great mystery of healing which lies
hidden among the green things of God. And so it came to pass that the
country people from all parts came to him for the simples which grew in
the little garden which he had made before his cell. And as his fame
spread, and more people came to him, he added more and more to the plat
which he had reclaimed from the waste land around.

But after many years there came a spring when the colors of the flowers
seemed paler to the hermit than they used to be; and as summer drew on
their shapes became indistinct, and he mistook one plant for another;
and when autumn came, he told them by their various scents, and by their
form, rather than by sight; and when the flowers were gone, and winter
had come, the hermit was quite blind.

Now in the hamlet below there lived a boy who had become known to the
hermit on this manner. On the edge of the hermit's garden there grew two
crab trees, from the fruit of which he made every year a certain
confection which was very grateful to the sick. One year many of these
crab-apples were stolen, and the sick folk of the hamlet had very little
conserve. So the following year, as the fruit was ripening, the hermit
spoke every day to those who came to his cell, saying:--