gone, but their thoughts live on, as busy as ever, whirling
about us like the rain out of Heaven. Each of them dreamed, and what
they dreamed is our heritage. When such men pass, we must have lads who
can take their places. And I believe that you are one of these lads. For
nobody can tell me that the power you have of seeing things with your
brain--things you've never seen with your eyes--won't carry you far and
high among your fellowmen. And some day, you'll be one of the greatest
in this dear land. And it'll be told of you how you lived in the East
Side, in a scrap of a flat, where you were like a prisoner, and took
care of a weak, old soldier, and did your duty, though it came hard, and
began the dreaming of your dreams.

"Thinking about the big ones that won out against long odds will help
you--will give you the grit to carry on. And grit makes a good, solid
foundation, whether it's for a house or a lad. And when you've
accomplished the most for yourself, then I know you'll remember that
doing for yourself is just a small part of it; the other part--the grand
part--is what you can do for your fellowmen.

"There's a true saying that 'God helps them who help themselves.' But,
suppose you lived where it wasn't possible for you to help yourself? And
there are countries just like that. But here, in the United States, you
_can_ help yourself! Ah, that's a great blessing, my yellow-head! Oh,
Johnnie, was there ever a land like this one before? Boy dear, this
United States, _this_ is the Land of Aladdin!

"Young friend, as I close I want to thank you for what you've done for a
smashed-up priest--gladdened his last days with the sight of a grand
lad, a good scout. And I've got just a single warning for you, and it's
this: Watch your play! For it's not by the work that a man does that you
can judge him. No; I'll tell you what a man is like if you'll tell me
_how he plays_.

"One thing more: do you remember the vow the knights used to take in the
old days?--'live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the king.' Father
Pat knows he can trust John Blake to keep that vow. And his last wish,
and his dying prayer is, O little, little lad, that you put your trust
in God--just that, and everything else will come right for you--put your
trust in God.

"PATRICK MUNGOVAN."

Thus it ended. There the hand of that faithful friend had stopped. But
below the name, separated from it and