And the kingdom is everlasting. A weak love dies weakly with the occasion that gave it birth; but such friendship is born of the gods, and immortal. Clouds and darkness may sweep around it, but within the cloud the glory lives undimmed. Death has no power over it. Time can not diminish, nor even dishonor annul it. Its direction may have been earthly, but itself is divine. You go back into your solitudes: all is silent as aforetime, but you can not forget that a Voice once resounded there. A Presence filled the valleys and gilded the mountain-tops,--breathed upon the plains, and they sprang up in lilies and roses,--flashed upon the waters, and they flowed to spheral melody,--swept through the forests, and they, too, trembled into song. And though now the warmth has faded out, though the ruddy tints and amber clearness have paled to ashen hues, though the murmuring melodies are dead, and forest, vale, and hill look hard and angular in the sharp air, you know that it is not death. The fire is unquenched beneath. You go your way not disconsolate. There needs but the Victorious Voice. At the touch of the prince's lips, life shall rise again and be perfected forevermore. PONCHUS PILUT BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY Ponchus Pilut _used_ to be 1st a _Slave_, an' now he's _free_. Slaves wuz on'y ist before The War wuz--an' _ain't_ no more. He works on our place fer us,-- An' comes here--_sometimes_ he does. He shocks corn an' shucks it.--An' He makes hominy "by han'!"-- Wunst he bringed us some, one trip, Tied up in a piller-slip: Pa says, when Ma cooked it, "MY! This-here's gooder'n you _buy_!" Ponchus _pats_ fer me an' sings; An' he says most _funny_ things! Ponchus calls a dish a "_deesh_"-- Yes, an' _he_ calls fishes "_feesh_"! When Ma want him eat wiv us He says, "'Skuse me--'deed you mus'!-- Ponchus know good manners, Miss.-- He aint eat wher' White-folks is!" 'Lindy takes _his_ dinner out Wher' he's workin'--roun' about.-- Wunst he et his dinner, spread In our ole wheel-borry-bed. _Ponchus Pilut_ says "_'at's_ not His _right_ name,--an' done fergot What his _sho'-nuff_ name is now-- An' don' matter none _no_how!" Yes, an' Ponchus he'ps Pa, too, When our _butcherin's_ to do, An' scalds hogs--an' says "Take care 'Bout it, er you'll _set the hair_!" Yes, an' out in our back-yard He he'ps 'Lindy rendur lard; An', wite in the fire there, he Roast' a pig-tail wunst fer me.-- An' ist nen th'ole tavurn-bell Rung, down town, an' he says "Well!-- Hear dat! _Lan' o' Canaan_, Son, Aint dat bell say '_Pig-tail done!_' --'_Pig-tail done! Go call Son!-- Tell dat Chile dat Pig-tail done!_'" THE WOLF AT SUSAN'S DOOR BY ANNE WARNER "Well, Lucy has got Hiram!"