and had felt glad to be so near him. They let him have his wish;
and, indeed, he kept his word, and was, in his childish way, a lesson to
them all.

Up to that time, the old man had not spoken once, except to her, or
stirred from the bedside. But, when he saw her little favorite, he was
moved as they had not seen him yet, and made as though he would have him
come nearer. Then, pointing to the bed, he burst into tears for the first
time, and they who stood by, knowing that the sight of this child had done
him good, left them alone together.

Soothing him with his artless talk of her, the child persuaded him to take
some rest, to walk abroad, to do almost as he desired him. And, when the
day came, on which they must remove her, in her earthly shape, from
earthly eyes forever, he led him away, that he might not know when she was
taken from him. They were to gather fresh leaves and berries for her bed.

And now the bell, the bell she had so often heard by night and day, and
listened to with solemn pleasure, almost as a living voice, rung its
remorseless toll for her, so young, so beautiful, so good. Decrepit age,
and vigorous life, and blooming youth, and helpless infancy,--on crutches,
in the pride of health and strength, in the full blush of promise, in the
mere dawn of life, gathered round her. Old men were there, whose eyes were
dim and senses failing, grandmothers, who might have died ten years ago,
and still been old, the deaf, the blind, the lame, the palsied, the living
dead, in many shapes and forms, to see the closing of that early grave.

Along the crowded path they bore her now, pure as the newly fallen snow
that covered it, whose day on earth had been as fleeting. Under that
porch, where she had sat when heaven, in its mercy, brought her to that
peaceful spot, she passed again, and the old church received her in its
quiet shade.

XIV. VANITY OF LIFE. (100)

Johann Gottfried von Herder, 1744-1803, an eminent German poet, preacher,
and philosopher, was born in Mohrungen, and died in Weimar. His published
works comprise sixty volumes. This selection is from his "Hebrew Poetry."
###

Man, born of woman,
Is of a few days,
And full of trouble;
He cometh forth as a flower, and is cut down;
He fleeth also as a shadow,
And continueth not.

Upon such dost thou open thine eye,
And bring me unto judgment with thee?
Among the impure is there none pure?
Not one.

Are his days so determined?
Hast thou nu