--which, though badly
burned, he would doubtless have done had he left the child behind--was
sufficient to convince the dullest intellect that the child was
secure; and it was very soon ascertained that the object of search was
safe in a neighboring house.

No wonder, then, that this noble animal endeared himself to all who
knew him; and those who knew him best loved him the most. For fourteen
years Lion continued his noble and useful career as public benefactor,
as friend and companion to the firemen, and as mourner at their
graves; for he attended the funerals of no less than eleven of them.

Death came to him at length; for last year he died from injuries
received in the discharge of his self-imposed duties.

There are few of our readers who would not have liked to pat that
brave old dog; there are fewer still who may not learn useful and
valuable lessons from the speaking testimony of that dumb animal.

BENJAMIN CLARKE.

TO THE CARDINAL FLOWER.

O, my princely flower, shall I never win
To your moated citadel within,
To your guarded thought?

The pansies are proud; but they show to me
Their purple velvets from over the sea,
With gold inwrought.

And they gently smile wherever we meet;
They seem to me like proud ladies sweet
From a foreign shore.

Wild primrose buds in my very hand
Their odorous evening stars expand,
And all their lore.

But your strange eyes gleam as they pass me by,
And seem to dream of a warmer sky,
Far over the sea.

M. R. W.

[Illustration: {A woman, an elderly man and two children watch
butterflies in a garden}]

THE SONG OF THE ROSE.

I come not when the earth is brown, and gray
The skies; I am no flower of a day,
No crocus I, to bloom and pass away;

No cowslip bright, or hyacinth that clings
Close to the earth, from whence it springs;
Nor tulip, gay as song birds' wings.

I am the royal rose, and all things fair
Grow fairer for my sake; the earth, the air,
Proclaim the coming of the flower most rare.

Green is the earth, and beautiful the sky,
And soft the breeze, that loves to linger nigh;
I am the rose, and who with me shall vie?

The earth is full of gladness, all in tune