"She patted my hand as if I were the one to be quieted. 'Don't bother,' she said: 'I don't mind, an' you mustn't. If He's as good as you say He'll see that it's all right. I'm too tired to care: I only want to get through. There's nothing to live for, an' I'm glad it's 'most over. I want you to come every day, for it won't be long.' "'Let me bring Jerry,' I said, but she only laughed. She'd known him at his hardest, an' couldn't realize he might be different; but after a week or two she let him come, an' she'd lie an' listen with a sort of wonder as she watched him. But nothing seemed to take hold of her. She looked like a flower lyin' there, an' you'd think her only a child, for they'd cut her hair, and it lay in little rings all over her head; an' Jerry just cried over her, to think that unless she hearkened she was lost. She liked to be read to, but you couldn't make her believe, somehow, that any of it was real. 'I'd believe it if I could,' she said, 'but why should I? I don't see why you do. It sounds good, but it doesn't seem to mean anything. Why hasn't anybody ever told me before?' "'Try to believe, only try!' I'd say. 'Ask God to make you. He can, and He will if you only ask;' but all she'd say was, 'I don't seem to care enough. How can I? If it is true He will see about it.' "That was only a day or two before the end. The opium, maybe, hindered her thinkin', but she looked quiet an' no sign of trouble between the coughing-times. The last night of all I stayed with her. They said she would go at daybreak, an' I sat an' watched an' prayed, beggin' for one word or sign that the Lord heard us. It never came, though. She opened her eyes suddenly from a half sleep, and threw out her hands. I took one, but she did not know me. She looked toward the east and smiled. 'Why! are you coming for me?' she said, and then fell back, but that look stayed--a smile as sweet as was ever on a mortal face. An' that's why I never can help sayin', 'Lord have mercy on her!' and do you wonder even when I know better? But--" HELEN CAMPBELL. MY TREASURE. Under the sea my treasure lies-- Only a pair of starry eyes, That looked out from their azure skies With innocent wonder, sweet surprise, That they should have strayed from Paradise. Under the sea lies my treasure low-- Little white hands like flakes of snow, Once soft and warm; and I loved them so! Ah! the tide will come and the tide will go, But their tender touch I shall never know. Under the sea--oh, wealth most rare!-- Are silken tresses of golden hair, Each amber thread, each lock so fair, Gleaming out from the darkness there, With the same soft light they used to wear. Under the sea--oh, treasure sweet!-- Lies a curl-crowned head and tiny feet That in days gone by, when the shadows fleet Were growing long in the darkening street, Came bounding forth their love to meet.