Tom, try to be better; I tell you, you won't be sorry when you come to die." "No one could have been better than you, Jim," said the elder, feeling more calmness than he had yet shown.

He realized he was bending in the awful shadow of death, and that but a few more words could pass between him find the one he loved so well.
"I haven't been half as good as I ought to--not half as good as you, Tom." "O Jim! you should not say that." "He is right," whispered Mrs.Pitcairn, standing at the foot of the bed, beside her husband; "he will be with us but a few minutes longer.

How do you feel," she asked gently, "now that you must soon go, Jim ?" "I am sorry to leave you and Tom, but it's all right.

I see mother and Maggie and father," he replied, looking toward the ceiling; "they are bending over me, they are waiting to take my hand; I am glad to be with them--Tom, kiss me good-by." With the tears blinding his eyes, and holding the hot hand within his own warm pressure, Tom Gordon pressed his lips on those of Jim Travers, and, as he held them there, the spirit of the poor orphan wanderer took its flight.
The door gently opened a minute later and the physician stepped inside.
One glance told him the truth.
"I knew it was coming when I looked at him this morning," he remarked, in a soft, sympathetic voice.

"Nothing could save him.