the power of
the human heart, and it is developed by seeking the good of others. Live
for the things that live.'"

"Jenny, my own true sister, I have something else to show you--something
that I value more than a present from a throne. I have here some
'pamphlets,' into which Uncle Ben put his soul before he sought to
impress the same thoughts upon me. I want you to have them now, to read
them, and give them to his family."

He went to his secretary and took from it the pamphlets.

"Here are the thoughts of a man who told me when I was a poor boy in
Boston town that I had a chance in the world.

"He told me not to be laughed down.

"He told me that diligence was power.

"He told me that I would be helped in helping others.

"He told me that justice was the need of mankind.

"He told me that to have influence with men I must overcome my conscious
defects.

"He was poor, he was empty-handed, but Heaven gave to him the true
vision of life. He committed that vision to me, and what he wished to be
I have struggled to fulfill. These pamphlets are the picture of his
mind, and that picture deserves to be hung in diamonds, and is more to
me than the portrait of the king. Blessed be the memory of that old man,
who taught my young life virtue, and gave it hope!

"Jenny, I have tried to live well."

"You have been 'Silence Dogood,' the idea that Uncle Benjamin printed on
your mind."

"Jenny, I have heard the church bells--Uncle Tom's bells--of Nottingham
ring. I found Uncle Benjamin's letters there--those that he wrote to his
old friends from America. He lovingly described you and me. What days
those were! Father was true to his home when he invited Uncle Benjamin
to America. You have been true to your home, and my heart has been,
through your hands. Jenny, I have given my house in Boston to you."

The old woman wept.

"Jenny, you have loved, and your heart has been better than mine. Let me
call the servants. These are hours when the soul is full--my soul is
full. I ask for nothing more."

CHAPTER XLII.

FOR THE LAST TIME.

SILENCE Dogood is an old man now--a very old man. He looks back on the
spring and summer and autumn of life--it is now the time of the snow.
But there are sunny days in winter, and they came to him, though on the
trees hang the snow, and the nights are long and painful.

What has Silence Dogood done in his eighty years now ending in calm, in
dreams and silence? Let us look back ov