Now let us back to the shepherd and his three friends, who are met together six months after that awful death. The cloth is laid for four; sherry and claret shine upon the table, the champagne is underneath the sideboard in an iced pail--lemon, sugar, the silver ladle in the family punch-bowl. They sat down, and after the soup, when the fish was put on the table, Patrick Hallahan passed the sherry to Arthur, Arthur passed it to Phil, and Phil handed it to Denis. Curiously, yet true enough, the decanter came back in the same state as it started. Then these four plain men of business rose like one man, and joined hands across the table. Not a word was spoken, but that grip of the hand spoke all they had to say to one another. It is said they were satisfied with themselves and with one another, so satisfied that they had no wish to go from their word, even though the time of keeping it had gone by. Afterwards they acknowledged one to the other over their cigars--for if they drank nothing strong they smoked very strong, and, be it said, very good tobacco--they acknowledged that their life had been brighter, lighter than before, their mental vision clearer, their home happier; and many a fellow-creature round about them could have added that _their_ lives had been made brighter and lighter, and their mental vision clearer, and their homes happier, by the example and kindness of these four friends. * * * * * There is an anecdote told of a certain priest who once happened to be riding a spirited young horse along a road in Ireland. His reverence whilst thus engaged was met by two gentlemen who had lately been raised to the magistracy of the county, and being in a good humor, they thought they would amuse themselves by quizzing him. "How comes it, good Father," said one of them, "that you are mounted on such a fine horse? Your predecessors, the Apostles, I understand, always performed their journeys on asses."--"That's easily explained," answered his reverence; "the fact is, that the Government has of late been making magistrates of the asses, and therefore I should not consider it respectful to travel about on the back of one of the fraternity." Juvenile Department. THE FLOWERS' ELECTION. An election is now being held, For the flowers are all mad for a queen; The "speeching" and voting go on, And cause a most terrible scene. One tulip, a smart little flirt, Screams loudly and long for the rose; But a wee, giddy, columbine bud Does flippantly interpose. Nextly a cauliflower speaks, For his cousin the cabbage he votes; At which e'en a butterfly grins As onwardly he lazily floats. A full-blown and strong-minded flower Votes loud for republic and peace! Or else for a strawberry plant, Who's her grandmother's brother's aunt's niece.