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THE INDIAN ADVOCATE. that I can speak to him. I believe that we meet before God; and though I have wept bitter tears at his death, I cannot believe that I have lost him." Oh, the reality of this inti mate and invisible communion which the children of God en joy! Out of place though just in season Indicates a lack of reason. The last rays of the setting sun played with the .blossom ing apple-trees around a stately mansion, when from the side room a faltering voice was heard: "Lizzie I am awfully thirsty, please bring me some relief." It was the voice of a very sick father calling upon his beloved daughter's inge nuity. Hastening into the garden she plucked the fairest flowers, formed them into a nice bonquet, entered her fa ther's room, offered him the bunch of flowers while singing a dreary song of woe. Her father's tongue parched with thirst murmured the words: "Out of place, quench my thirst!" This may be the picture of your actions towards the Poor Souls in Purgatory. Not your flowers and dirges, but your practical assistance they desire of you, namely prayer, good works and especially the Sacrifice of the Mass. H. S. Oh! pray, pray for the dead! Buried friends, can we e'er forget you, You who felt for our weal or woe? God be with you, our silent sleepers. Lying under the tuif so low; Useless, vain is our weak bewailing, Vain are murmur and sob and tear; What, oh! what can our grief avail you, Lifeless dust that was once so dear? ' Hark! a sigh from each lowly bed -Oh! pray, pray for the dead!