gleamed unaltered,
radiant and large, as it had gleamed for thousands of years, and the
air glowed red with tints fresh as roses, crimson like blood.

There, where once had stood the narrow lane containing the ruins
of the temple, a nunnery was now built. A grave was being dug in the
convent garden for a young nun who had died, and was to be laid in the
earth this morning. The spade struck against a hard substance; it
was a stone, that shone dazzling white. A block of marble soon
appeared, a rounded shoulder was laid bare; and now the spade was
plied with a more careful hand, and presently a female head was
seen, and butterflies' wings. Out of the grave in which the young
nun was to be laid they lifted, in the rosy morning, a wonderful
statue of a Psyche carved in white marble.

"How beautiful, how perfect it is!" cried the spectators. "A relic
of the best period of art."

And who could the sculptor have been? No one knew; no one
remembered him, except the bright star that had gleamed for
thousands of years. The star had seen the course of that life on
earth, and knew of the man's trials, of his weakness--in fact, that he
had been but human. The man's life had passed away, his dust had
been scattered abroad as dust is destined to be; but the result of his
noblest striving, the glorious work that gave token of the divine
element within him--the Psyche that never dies, that lives beyond
posterity--the brightness even of this earthly Psyche remained here
after him, and was seen and acknowledged and appreciated.

The bright Morning Star in the roseate air threw its glancing
ray downward upon the Psyche, and upon the radiant countenances of the
admiring spectators, who here beheld the image of the soul portrayed
in marble.

What is earthly will pass away and be forgotten, and the Star in
the vast firmament knows it. What is heavenly will shine brightly
through posterity; and when the ages of posterity are past, the
Psyche--the soul--will still live on!

THE PUPPET-SHOW MAN

On board a steamer I once met an elderly man, with such a merry
face that, if it was really an index of his mind, he must have been
the happiest fellow in creation; and indeed he considered himself
so, for I heard it from his own mouth. He was a Dane, the owner of a
travelling theatre. He had all his company with him in a large box,
for he was the proprietor of a puppet-show. His inborn cheerfulness,
he said, had been tested by a member o