s and fades, my young brethren, under
the sweeping scythe of death, no less surely than the withered grass of
age. O! be ready--be ready with the girded loins and the lighted lamp--
to obey the summons of your God. Who knows for which of us next, or how
soon, the bell of death may toll? Be ye therefore ready, for you know
not at what day or at what hour the voice may call to you!"

The loss of a well-known companion whom all respected and many loved--
the crowding memories of school-life--the still small voice of every
conscience, gave strange meaning and force to the bishop's simple words.
As they listened, many wept in silence, while down the cheeks of
Walter, of Power, and of Henderson, the tears fell like summer rain.

In the evening Walter was seated thoughtfully by the fire in Power's
study, while Power was writing at the table, stopping occasionally to
wipe his glistening eyes.

"He was my earliest friend here," he said to Walter, almost
apologetically, as he hastily brushed off the drop which had fallen and
blurred the paper before him. "But I know it is selfish to be sorry,"
he added, as he pushed the paper towards Walter.

"May I read this, Power?" asked Walter.

"Yes, if you like," and he drew his chair by his, while Walter read in
Power's small clear handwriting--

A Farewell.

Never more!
Like a dream when one awaketh
Vanishing away;
Like a billow when it breaketh
Scattered into spray;
Like a meteor's paling ray,
Such is man, do all he can;--
Nothing that is fair can stay.
Sorrow staineth, man complaineth.

Sin remaineth ever more;
Like a wake upon the shore
Soundeth ever from the chorus
Of the spirits gone before us,
"Ye shall meet us, ye shall greet us
In the sweet homes of earth, in the places of our birth,
Never more again, never more!"
So they sing, and sweetly dying
Faints the message of their voices,
Dying like the distant murmur, when a mighty host rejoices,
But the echoes are replying with a melancholy sighing
Never more again! never more!

Far-away
Far far-away are the homes wherein they dwell,
We have lost them, and it cost them
Many a tear, and many a fear
When God forbade their stay;
But their sorrow, on the morrow
Ceased in the dawning of a lighter, brighter day;
And _our_ bliss shall be certain, when death's awful curtain.
Drawn from the darkness of mortal life away,
To happy souls revealeth what it da