ey even crammed a bit of moral in the offer. "It was
right," they said, "to tell on those who had broken the prison
regulations, mere justice to the lessees." Right! too late to talk to
him of right. He glanced once at the pines, going farther away,
whiffed at the pleasant odor of the grape blooms, waved his hand to
the roses, in farewell, perhaps, lifted his face to the blue
heaven--he had never looked heavenward before in all his wretched
years,--then, wearing that same old look of his mother's, he turned,
without a word, and re-entered the prison.

Back to the pump, the lash, and at last to the dungeon.

But he no longer dreaded it. It was the Sabbath, and the shackles had
been removed, but he was too weary to notice the rat that came out and
sat peering at him, nibbling at his wet prison clothes, and his feet
and hands. Even the carrion did not disturb any more. The scent of the
wild grape blooms was still in his nostrils. And when the day wore on,
and the two o'clock bell sounded, calling the men to Sunday school, he
started up with a cry of "Here." He had thought the bell a voice at
the dungeon door, and fancied that it said, "friend!"

He dropped back, with a smile on his lips. Could old Nance have peeped
in at that moment she would have pronounced him very like his mother
with that smile, and that stanch old heroism shining in his wide, dead
eyes.

* * * * *

Down in the office the registrar entered upon the death list:

"James Royal--Natural death."

Natural? then God help the unnatural.

"The worst one ever fell into our hands," the warden told the minster
as he came out of the chapel with the soft-voiced friend of the dead
man's. "Not a spark of good in _him_, parson. Jim Royal knocks your
theory all to pieces."

But the friend had been telling the minister a story. And as he passed
out at the rattling stockade gate, he, too, glanced up at the blue
sky. His doubts were gone, if there had been any, his faith was
planted in God's eternal goodness.

"Can such die?" he mused, "such faithfulness, such magnificent
courage, such glorious fidelity? Is it possible that such can pass
away into eternal torment?"

The soft wind touched his cheek and bore heavenward the prayer he
breathed:--

"Forbid it, Almighty God."

EDITORIAL NOTES.

RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE TO-DAY. PERSECUTED FOR CONSCIENCE SAKE.

The decision recently handed down by Judge Hammond, of the United