Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Group Title: children's companion.
Title: The Children's companion.
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00080532/00001
 Material Information
Title: The Children's companion.
Physical Description: Book
Creator: Peterson, John ( Editor )
Mortvedt, A. O. ( Editor )
Publisher: The Untied Norwegian Lutheran Church of America
Manufacturer: Ausburg Publishing House
Publication Date: 1913
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00080532
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
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Full Text

[I 2 68 *iiuri?

ro I

I 1741 8


"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."
Vol. XX. Sunday, January 5, 1913. No. i.

----' eli' 'E '1 --

r1__1 i.i ,,- 1


New Year's Thoughts

Let us walk softly, friend;
For strange paths lie before us, all untrod,
The New Year, spotless from the hand of God,
Is thine and mine, 0 friend.
Let us walk straightly, friend;
Forget the crooked paths behind us now,
Press on with steadier purpose on our brow,
To better deeds, 0 friend!
Let us walk gladly, friend;
Perchance some greater good than we have known
Is waiting for us, or some fair hope flown
Shall yet return, 0 friend!
Let us walk humbly, friend;
Slight not the heart's-ease blooming round our feet;
The laurel blossoms are not half so sweet,
Or lightly gathered, friend.
Let us walk kindly, friend;
WVe can not tell how long this life shall last,
How soon these precious years be overpast;
Let love walk with us, friend.
Let us walk quickly, friend;
WVork with our might while lasts our little stay,
And help some halting comrade on the way;
And may God guide us, friend!
-Lillian Gray, in "The Young Idea."

jJ I 'i 1ll' iL_




A new leaf has been turned in the history
of our lives. The page is blank, but has room
for 365 lines. One line for each day of the
year, if God permits us to live that long. The
recording angel, so accustomed to making
records down through the ages, can easily
condense into one line the history of what we
have done each day. We live in deeds, not
in days or years. The day is lost in which we
have done no worthy act. And worse than
lost the day in which, instead of deeds of love
and kindness, we have been bent on mischief
or have done things that are naughty and sin-
ful. We cannot be truly happy or expect our
New Year to be truly happy if we do wrong
and live wrong-unless it should be a miser-
able happiness, which thrives on making others
unhappy and miserable. But that particular
kind of happiness always ends in misery, so
beware of that.
We can also look at the New Year under
another figure. It is like a new book, a
volume having 365 pages. At the beginning
of the year the pages are all blank. Day by
day the pages will be filled, each day a page.
What we have done in thought, word, or deed
will be entered. We shall be accountable to
God for how our days and moments are used.
The Bible tells us that we must all appear
before the judgment seat of God and receive
according to the deeds done in the body
whether it be good or evil. God makes a
record not only of the things we do, which
should not have been done, but also of the
things we leave undone, which we should
have done. The pages of this new volume
will bear record of any harsh or unkind word
you may have spoken, of any unkind act you
may have done. It will also bear record of
any act of kindness or word of love you could
have spoken, but neglected to do. The evil
impure thoughts will be noted, also the neg-
lected good thoughts, which should have oc-
cupied your mind to drive the evil thoughts
Let us all pray that God will forgive us
for all our past sins and help us each passing
day to make our record clean. God will help
us if we ask Him from our heart to do so.
Think what that will mean at the end of the
year-each day for God-then to hear His,
"Well done." Then each passing year we
shall desire to live for Jesus only and like
Him when our life is ended here be able to
say: "I have finished the work which Thou
gavest me to do, I have glorified Thy name."

Or like the great Apostle Paul: "I have fought
the good fight, I have finished my course, I
have kept the faith." All this is possible
through Christ Who gives us strength.
Strive each day to live to the glory of
God and you will have a happy New Year. A
Happy New Year to all. M.


"This being the first day of the year, it
is just and right that I make some suitable
resolutions. Therefore,
"Resolved, That during the coming year I
will strive, as far as possible, to do unto others
as I would be done by.
"There, now, that's done right up in a
business manner, I think," said Ned, proudly
surveying the .paper, "I expect it will be pretty
hard word," he added, ruefully.
"Edward, my son," said his father, direct-
ly after breakfast, "will you clean off the walks
the first thing this morning?"
"Oh, dear," Ned was beginning, when he
thought of his resolution, and he answered
"Yes, father, I'll see to it at once," and
started off with a merry whistle.
His father looked up in surprise, for Ned
had been much given to whining when asked
to do anything.
When he came in his mother asked him
to go an errand for her, and he went at once,
notwithstanding he was anxious to get a
Christmas book.
When he did get a chance to read he found
that his sister was reading the book.
"Give me my book," he cried.
"Oh, Ned, I'm right in the middle of a
chapter, and it's so interesting. Might I just
finish this chapter?"
"No," he answered, crossly. "You had no
right to get my book."
Then, as he noticed her regretful face, he
thought: "Now, I guess that's not just as I'd
be done by;" and added: "Well, finish the
chapter, then, Nellie."
"Oh, Ned," exclaimed his little brother,
"won't you show me how to spin my new
"Not now, Freddie; I'm reading, don't you
"But I'm lonesome," pleaded the little fel-
low, "and I can't do it right."
"Come here," said Ned, suddenly recollect-
ing himself. And in a few moments the little
fellow was as happy as could be.


That afternoon Ned went coasting. It was
fine sport and Ned's sled was the swiftest on
the hill.
No one noticed a poorly-dressed lad who
had no sled and stood shivering with the cold,
and wistfully watching the merrymakers. Ned
saw him.
"It must be pretty hard," he thought, "to
have no ride at all, but it's none of my busi-
And his sled, when he reached the top,
went merrily down the hill again.
But he was not easy as he climbed back
"Suppose you had no sled and he had one,"
whispered a small voice, "what would you
want him to do? Your sled is large enough
for two. Why not take him on with you?"
"But my sled would not go as fast."
"Supposing it wouldn't. Do as you'd be
done by."
"Here, you," he called to the boy; "would
you not like to ride?"
Wouldn't he! His cheeks flushed and his
eyes sparkled.
"Well, come, jump on, then."
And away they went.
Not once but many times they went-for
Ned never did things by halves, and he
acknowledged to himself that somehow he
felt lots happier, and the boy was such a nice
little fellow, too.
"Come next Saturday, and you can ride
some more," he said, when' he started for
home, and his new friend promised as he ran
joyfully off.
"Well," agreed Ned that night as he thought
over the day, "it may be a much harder way,
but it's also much nicer, and I think I'll keep
right on for a year."-Exchange.


Long ago when Christ was born in Bethle-
hem wise men in the far East saw a wonder-
ful star on the western horizon. It was a
peculiar star, so unlike any of the others. It
must have been God's special way of calling
the attention of these heathen men to this
most wonderful event. Perhaps it was an
angel for we read that the star moved and
stood over the house where the Christ-Child
was. The Wise Men of the East had some
knowledge of the Jewish people and knew that
they were expecting the Messiah, the Christ,
Who should be the King of the Jews. From
what source they had this knowledge we do
not know. But it is very likely that this

knowledge had been handed down from
parents to children since the time when the
Jews were in Babylon, in the East as cap-
tives. Or it may be that among the records
of Babylon the Wise Men had found such
mention of the peculiar captive people, who
lived there for seventy years, many centuries
before, as would now prepare them for this
great event. Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach and
Abednego were all in the order of the Wise
Men in their time during the captivity, and
Daniel, as we know, was placed at the head
and over all the wise men of the East because
it was found that he knew more than any of
the others. So it seems very likely that some
of this knowledge had been handed down
through the centuries and that some of the
wise, even among the heathen, were expecting
the Christ. The Magi, or Wise Men, were
astrologers, such as make a study of the stars
and any signs in the heavens. They were,
therefore, quick to detect the new star.
These men did not have the Old Testament
Scriptures and, therefore, God used this star
to show them that the expected Christ was
Epiphany means manifestation-to be made
manifest or to be made known. On January
6th we celebrate the festival of Epiphany to
commemorate the visit of the Wise Men to
the Christ-Child in Bethlehem and the mani-
festation of Christ to the heathen world.
Therefore, we often use this day as a proper
time to bring our offerings for foreign mis-
sions and the spread of the Gospel among
the heathen. M.


Disobedience to parents is one of the first
steps in the downward path. A circus was in
town, and a little boy stood watching the
great tent curiously. A neighbor, coming up,
"Hello, Johnny, going to the circus?"
"No sir," answered Johnny, "father doesn't
like 'em."
"Oh, well, I'll give you the money to go,"
said the man.
"No, sir; my father would give me the
money if he thought it best; besides, I've got
twenty-five cents in my box, enough to go."
"I'd go, Johnny, for once; it is wonderful
the way the horses do,"'said the man. "Your
father needn't know it."
"I can't," said the boy.
"Now, why?" asked the man.
'"Cause," said Johnny, "after I'd been -there
I couldn't look father in the eyes, but I can
The boy who will never do anything that
will prevent him from looking straight into
his father's eyes will never be a rebel.-Sel.


The Boy Who Feared God.

THAT was David. He was a shepherd boy. He had a nice flock of
lambs and sheep to care for. But one day his father said to him:
"David, I want you to go to the camp to-day. Take this cheese with you
for the captain and something for the boys For there was war and some
of David's brothers were soldiers.
When David got there, he was anxious to see everything. And no
sooner had he gotten into the camp than he heard a great shouting. He
ran to see and saw outside the camp a giant, a very tall and big man. He
was swearing and taking the name of God in vain. He was making fun
of the God of David and his people. And it hurt David to hear it. "Why
doesn't some one of you go out to fight him?" he said, for the champion
or the giant shouted that he would fight any man that would come out.
At last, after David heard him cursing and shouting a long time, he said
he would go. "You!" said his brothers. "You go home." And the King,
when he heard of it, said, "He's been a soldier all his life. How dare
you?" "The Lord will be with me. He helped me when a lion and a
bear came and took a lamb from me, and he'll help me now", David an-
swered. "Alright, David", said the King. "You go and the Lord will
be with thee."
And then David went. He wasn't afraid of the giant Goliath. He
took five smooth stones from the brook and got his sling ready. The
giant made fun of him, but David never cared. 'rI come against you", he
said, "in the name of the Lord of hosts." And he let go his sling and
struck the giant in the temple and knocked him senseless. He then ran
up, took his sword and cut off his head.
And in that way God helped him because he looked more to God
than to the giant.
What Has the Catechism Taught From This Story?
"We should fear, love, and trust in God above all things."
"Lord, great wonders workest Thou!
To Thy sway all creatures bow:
Write Thou deeply in my heart
What I am, and what Thou art!"


L *-.r

The Drum that Grandpa Cr

arried in the War.


Northfield, Minn.
Dear Editor:-
I have never written to The Companion
before. I live very near St. Olaf College. It
is a very pretty place. They are having school
here now. There are very many students.
My father is a professor at St. Olaf College.
I go to Sunday school almost every Sunday.
There are about one hundred and thirty-five
children in our Sunday school. We are hav-
ing a new church built here. I hope it will
be ready soon. They have no pastor here
now. They have called one though. I have a
sister who is now on her way to China as
a missionary. With best wishes to The Com-
panion readers, Nordis A. Felland.
Thank you, Nordis. Won't you promise
us to get your sister to write to The Com-
panion about her journey and from China?
Please do.
Govert, Harding Co., S. D.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
I thought I would write a letter, thinking
it would interest you to hear from a boy on
the wild prairies. I am thirteen years old,
have one brother and two sisters. Their
names are Christian, Martha, and Anna. My
father was minister here before he was called
to Chicago as city missionary. We are stay-
ing with our housekeeper on our father's
claim and expect to prove it up next month
and leave for Chicago, of which I am glad, for
then I can attend Sunday school, church and
public school. We have not had any church
but once since my father left for Chicago in
March. June ist was the only time. The
nearest minister has not come down since
June i-st, as there were not enough people left
here to hold services, as nearly all the people
have gone, but a few are left, and the minister
has to drive far to come down here and the
roads are bad for driving We have Sunday
school every Sunday ourselves. I read in the
Bible, Bible History and "Forklaring." I read
a lesson in each every Sunday morning at
io o'clock. Our only neighbor within 3 or 4
miles is a lady who lives Y2 mile from here.
The only two railroad stations near us are
Faith, 65 miles, and Newel, 50 miles. The
post office and grocery store is 7 miles away.
My only playmates are my brother, the chick-
ens and the dog. As my letter is getting long
I will close. Hoping to see my letter in print,
I am your Companion reader.
Lewis Munson.
Yes, we are glad to hear from our boys
out on the prairies. And we hope you will
remember to write when you get to the big
city, too.
Mandan, N. D.
Dear Companion Circle:-
As I have not seen any letters from Man-
dan, I will write one. I am twelve years old
and in the sixth grade; my teacher's name is
Edna Cass. I go to Sunday school every Sun-

day. We take catechism. My teacher's name
is Mrs. Reko. I like her very much. Our
minister's name is Rev. Belsheim. I go to
the Lutheran church. There are about forty-
five children in our Sunday school. There are
eight classes. The names of the children in
my class are Ruth Renden, Helen Belsheim,
Lucile Parson and Lulu McCadam. I enjoy
reading the Sunday school paper very much.
We have a program every Christmas. I got
Sa box of writing paper from the Sunday school
last year. As my letter is getting long I will
close, hoping to see my letter in print. Your
Companion reader,
-Alma Hjelmseth.
How should your pastor's name be spelled,
Alma? You write a very nice hand, but please
remember to write only on one side of the
Westby, Wis.
Dear Editor:-
I have written once before to The Com-
panion, and thought I would write again. I
am eleven years old, and I go to Sunday school
and English school:" I am in the sixth grade.
My teachers are Miss Jessie A. Thompson,
and Miss Hildur Schriener. In Sunday school
my teacher is Miss Alda Anderson. There
are nine teachers in the English school. Our
school house was built two years ago. I have
two brothers and two sisters. One of my
brothers goes to school, and both of my sisters
go. One of my sisters is in the first grade,
and one in the third grade. My brother is
in the eighth grade. In two years my other
brother is going to school. I will have to
close. Yours respectfully. Laila Schee.
Come again, Laila, but write only on one
side of the paper.
Elmore, Minn.
Dear Editor:-
I haven't seen any letters from Elmore
yet, so I thought I would write one. I am
eleven years old. I go to the public school.
I am in the 6th grade. My teacher's name
is Miss Hazel Rouley. There are twelve in
my class in public school. I have one sister:
her name is Gladys, and five brothers. The
babies are twin boys. Their names are
Clarence and Clifford. They were one year
old August ioth. Our minister's name is Rev.
Edwin Dwea. We like him very much. There
is no Norwegian school this summer, so I
read with the confirmation class, although
I am not going to get confirmed. My letter
is getting long, so best wishes to the editor
and Companion readers.
-Margaret Anderson.
Thank you, Margaret, for your letter. Be-
lieve you are the first one to write from El-
more. Suppose you have to help mamma to
take care of your little twin brothers. Hope
you do so gladly. What a help that is to
your dear mother.



(By Jeanne L. Rollier.)

She was such a little girl. Her name is
Chand Bee. She is the little girl who wears
trousers like a boy. It is the fashion among
some classes of Mohammedans to dress both
girls and boys in trousers.
I am sure Chand Bee has never forgotten
how she lied to me the first year I was in
charge of the schools.
The door of the work-room was very hard
to open, but she had managed to get inside
when all the women weie away. How beauti-
ful the purdah (portiere) was, with its em-
broidery of colored silks and its gold and
silver threads! What do you suppose made
mischievous little Chand Bee think of up-
setting an inkstand and spoiling the lovely
and expensive piece of work?
No one knows! Then she took her finger
and drew designs on the unworked part of the
portiere. Perhaps she heard someone coming
-a frightened little girl slipped out of the
room. No one saw her, no one knew who had
done the damage.
Chand Bee ran to the back yard of the
school and rubbed and rubbed the ink-stains
on her fingers with mud. She nearly took the
skin off-but the ink spots were gone!
When the teacher came she saw what had
happened, and all the children were called
to come and show their hands. Not one was
stained. Suddenly her eyes fell on Chand
Bee's bare feet. They were spotted all over
with ink! But Chand Bee denied most em-
phatically having spoiled the curtain.
When I came to school the teacher said I
should give Chand Bee a good spanking to
make her confess. The teacher was a native
woman, but even she knew it would never do
for me to touch the child in that way, as all
the parents would at once take their children
from the school.
So I took the little culprit into a side
room. She was trembling. I took her on my
lap-she was only six years old-and I held
her fast and told her how wrong it was to
lie, and begged her to be a brave girl and tell
the truth. I said I would not punish her if
she would only not tell any more lies about
what she had done-but she must confess
what she had done.

She kept on denying, looking at me so wist-
fully, her big, soft black eyes the picture of
"Why," she said, "Mem Sahib, how could
I do such a thing, I am such a little girl."
Oh! it is sad, the way these heathen parents
teach their children to lie.
But, as I kept on telling her to confess,
she suddenly jerked herself off my lap, turned
and faced me, her little body stiff, her eyes
flaming. Closing her little fist and shaking it
at me, she said:
"Give me poison, I'll drink it! I won't die.
I am innocent! Then you will know I did
not do it."
It was hard to think what to do with her,
but I think God told me in my heart what
to do.
I told her we would try to take the ink-
stains away, and if they would not go we
would change our pattern and cover them with
embroidered flowers and leaves, and we could
still sell our portiere.
Then she came to me, burst out crying,
sobbing pitifully and confessing that she had
done it. She had lied about it because she
was afraid we would make her father pay
for it, and her father was so poor.
Chand Bee is still in our school-or was
when I left India. She must be about twelve
years old now, and so I dare say she is married
and no longer allowed to come to school, poor
little girl! But I know she learned to tell
the truth and learned many other things about
the way of salvation, which, I trust, will bear
fruit some day.


Dr. Lowson, an English surgeon who died
March 14th, 19o6, was called upon to per-
form the operation of tracheotomy for diphthe-
ria. The tube used suddenly became blocked,
and, with no thought for himself, Dr. Low-
son at once sucked the wound and rescued the
patient from imminent death. Within a few
days he was himself stricken with the disease,
and, owing to serious complications, was laid
aside from work for a year. His noble deed
won for him the Albert Medal. His death at
last resulted from blood poisoning, caused by
pricking his finger while performing an opera-
tion for appendicitis without fee. So our
healing from sin cost the life of the only
begotten Son of God.-The Teachers' Month-


5- ,-~-- -,

Happy New Year!

"The dogs have eaten up the cht
The missionary felt sorry when
that Loof's story was true. There was
left of their tabernacle except the gr
of the whale, which supported it. H
wood with which to build a church,
sewed forty seal skins together for a
It made a very good shelter, but
Eskimo could not catch seals, because
storm, the dogs became so hungry t
broke in and ate utip the skins.
"And tomorrow will be Christm:
Mr. Beck. "What shall we do, Lo
sent him to call some of the men.
they worked until they had a circular
snow six feet high. It could at le
off the wind. They even made squ
of snow against the wall for the sen
afternoon. Loof looked very happy,
he had asked his mother to come,
answered, "Yes, let us hear somethir
than we ever heard before." He ar
others had often come to the meeting
could now read, and knew the Lord's
and the history of Joseph. With the
Christmas Day he sang:
"Joy to the world, the Lord has
Let earth receive her King."
Do you not think the young Eskir
receive his King in that snow church
as with an arched roof over him?-E


Two boys who lived near together had to
keep the pavement in front of their homes
free of snow. One of the boys was strong
and sturdy. His stretch of pavement was
short and he was always soon through with
it. The other lad was slight and delicate and
he had a long strip to keep clean. His sturdy
companion offered time and again to help him
at the end of his work, but some sort of pride
made the delicate lad decline the offer. He
perhaps feared he might be regarded as un-
boylike if he could not do his own snow
.. The strong boy was very anxious to help
his friend, so he planned the idea of a double
shovel, which was simply two short bits of
board fastened side by side, and having a
handle at each end. Then he suggested to his
chum that they make such a shovel and work
w. it together at the snow on each other's pave-
The suggestion was approved, the shovel
was quickly made, and now after a snowfall
these two boys work as one, and do all their
TMAS. task in much less time than it took the slight
irch." lad at his.
hlie found When we are really anxious to help others
s nothing we can find a way that will make them able
eat bones to feel that they are not dependent upon us,
having no while at the same time we may know that
they had our strength is carrying them over the hard
covering, and heavy places which they could not travel
vhen the alone.-East and West.

se of the
hat they

as!" said
of?" ie
r wall of
ast keep
ire seats
vice next
for when
she had
g better
id thirty
gs. Loof
s Prayer
rest that


no could
as well

Tbe Cbilbrrtn' Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark, Illinois

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Entered at the post office at Minneapolis, Minn., as
second-class matter.

"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."

Vol. XX. Sunday, January 12, 1913. No. 2.


John Sellars was a plowman in the parish
of Meikle Towie, somewhere in the north of
Scotland. I do not mention the actual county,
because John being still alive and his name
well known, it might give said county a
notoriety which would be displeasing to it.
Meikle Towie made a mistake about John Sel-
lars, the kind of mistake not uncommon, since

He began quite early, even before he went
to the village school, and though the natural
bent of his mind was to ask questions, there
being nobody to answer them, he was forced
back upon his conclusions. But after he found
his way into the world of books, the desire
to ask questions passed away, because they
taught him all he wished to know.
He read omnivorously, though in a limited
area, the works of Josephus, Bunyan's "Holy

A Bridge That Carries You Over.

the first days when the prophet had no honor
in his own country.
John was the son of a plowman, a
quiet, dour man, whose words at kirk or mar-
ket would never be difficult to count. His
mother had some character, but was equally
chary of speech. John was born in a quiet
house, and nurtured, so to speak, in silence,
which is no bad thing. For sheer lack of
other occupation, the person so environed is
obliged to think. John thought desperately.

War," and an old copy of Chaucer's Tales,
which he carried in his pocket till it fell to
rags, and had to be mended surreptitiously
with flour-paste supplied by his mother when
in an unusually amiable mood.
At fourteen, John went to work on the
farm where his father was employed, and for
two years seemed happy enough. His wages,
six pounds in the half year, went chiefly in
books, of which he began to accumulate a
goodly store.



When he was sixteen there was a wonder-
ful upheaval in his life. One day he was at
the plow, making the long, fine, even furrows,
which proved him an expert plowman as well
as a student. The field was close to the
woods of Fantowie, which was the big house
of the parish. John had often walked in these
woods of a Sunday afternoon with his book,
and had come quite close to the house, and
been amazed at its size and magnificence. At
the same time, he had wondered what folks
were like who lived in such a house, also-and
this was the greatest problem of all-how
many books were inside of it. John knew the
Laird by sight only; a tall, bent figure of a
man, with a sad, somewhat careworn face,
and eyes which had a strange, deep look, as
if they had long since looked into the heart
of things and beheld only vanity.
He happened to be on the path at the bot-
tom of the field, when John Sellars with his
team arrived at the turning point. He stood
still to watch the lad skillfully guiding the
willing horses, and, as it happened, he observed
the books sticking out of his pockets, one on
either side. John did not wait even to pull
his forelock to the Laird; nobody had in-
structed himin that scanty courtesy, but his
face reddened beneath the tan, and he wished
himself a hundred miles away. For the Laird's
look was one of intentness, and John was mor-
tally afraid lest he should speak.
"What's your name?" said the Laird, gruff-
ly. "And how old are you?"
"My name's Jock Sellars, and I'm sixteen,"
replied John, without a moment's hesitation,
only hoping that all the questions would prove
as easy to answer.
"Urn," said the Laird slowly; "you're well
grown for your age. Whose servant are
"Fantowie's;, Little Fantowie's, I mean.
My father's the grieve."
"And what are you?"
"I'm orra man."
"And what are these books 'you have in
your pockets? The plowboy's manual, eh?"
Then, indeed, did John look desperate, as
if his last hour had come. "They're-they're
naething," he answered shamefacedly. "An'
I'll hae to be getting' on. Gee up, Jennet."
But Jennet, the shaggy old mare, refused to
gee up at the required moment, probably be-
ing wiser than he who held the reins. "Show
me the books," said the Laird, with an air
of quiet authority which was difficult to re-
John dropped the reins, and shamefacedly
drew them forth. One was the old Chaucer,

on the back of which had been pasted a piece
of brown holland to keep it together; the
other-and this amazed the Laird more than
the first-was a Latin grammar.
"Do you read them?" he asked, with a
singular look of pity and interest at the thin,
clear, sun-browned face, and the big, defiant
gray eyes.
"Aye, whiles," replied John guardedly.
"Who taught you?"
"Have you ever been to school?"
"Aye, at Meikle Fantowie; but the mistress
there disna ken Latin."
"And you want to learn it?"
"I am learning it."
"Without a teacher?"
John nodded, and the expression of pity
and interest deepened in the Laird's kindly
eyes. "This interests me rather. See here,
John Sellars, come up to the house this even-
ing at eight o'clock. I want to talk to you."
"The big hoose?" said John, scratching his
head amazedly.
"Fantowie. You don't know me, John, eh?"
"Oh, I ken ye fine; but I wad be feared
to come in there."
"Never mind., As you go through life,
John Sellars, you'll, find you have to stand up
to a good many things you are mortally afraid
of. Eight o'clock sharp, and don't you forget
it. If you make as good a bookman as you
are a plowman, you'll go far."
He sauntered off, and John, with his heart
all a-flutter, induced the leisurely Jennet to
proceed. That evening, dressed in his best
homespun and a clean shirt, John Sellars pro-
ceeded to the big house and there was inter-
viewed at great length by the Laird. Some-
thing about the sad, gentle, scholarly man
opened the heart of the lad, and, after some
judicious questioning, he unburdened his soul
of some of its aspirations. Next evening,
about half-past six, as) David Sellars was
smoking a comfortable pipe at his cottage door
after the labors of the day, the Laird rode up
on horseback and alighted.
John was not far off, and, at a signal from
the Laird, he took the bridle and walked the
horse away.
"Evening, Sellars; I've come to speak to
you about this lad of yours. I suppose he
has told you I was coming tonight."
"No; that he didna, sir. John has nae on-
necessary speech."
"He said he would tell you; but it is of
no consequence. I saw him last night at


"Oh, was that his airt? Me and the mis-
tress was wondering, said David quietly.
"I suppose you don't need me to tell you
you have a very clever son, Sellars?"
"He's not that ill, an' he's a guid plooman
"Yes, he can draw a straight furrow, but
there's more in him than that."
"It taks a mon to ploo strecht, Laird. Look
at some o' them! They should be whuppet
at a cairt's tail."
The Laird smiled. "We'll leave them
meanwhile. Something has got to be done
for the lad. I will do it. He shall go to the
University at Edinburgh in October.
"Mercy me!" was David's comment. "That'll
tak a heap o' siller."
"It will be paid back, every penny of it.
That is the condition. Do you and his mother
agree that he should be sent?"
"Oo ay, if there's onybody payin'. I've
sometimes said to Leesbeth what a terrible
chap he is for book lare, and steady wi' it. He
micht be a minister, eh? His mother wad
like that."
"The niche will present itself in good
time," answered the Laird, and though David
did not rightly understand him, he supposed
it was all right.
John remained for five years at the Uni-
versity of Edinburgh, and never in all the
annals of its history had it a more distin-
guished student. Everything he touched seemed
to spring to newness of life, and as for prizes,
he simply hauled them in by the score.
After the third year he took no more money
from the Laird, and when he came out at last
with his degree, and half a dozen posts wait-
ing for his acceptance, he journeyed out to
Fantowie with a small package in his pocket.
Before he visited his father's house he
called upon the Laird. It was a July evening,
one of the loveliest he had ever seen, and
after the air of the city the benison of these
pure latitudes was grateful to him. He was
grown tall and slim, and his face was beautiful,
with the beauty of the upright life; of a soul
that had all its communion with things lovely
and of good report.
A kingly soul dwelt in the plowman lad,
and he was fit company for kings, because of
his native modesty and worth.
When he drew near to the house, there was
a party on the terrace, and he felt inclined to
turn back, but when the Laird saw him he
beckoned to him kindly, and came forward
smiling to greet him.
"You are busy, sir," said John, in his quiet,
pleasant manner. "I can come again. I

have only just arrived from the station, and
have not been home yet."
"It was good of you to take Fantowie on
the road, John, and I'm pleased to see you.
Well, and are your college days done?"
"Yes," said John, and gave a little sigh.
"I have been offered an assistant professor-
ship abroad, and I think I will go in October,
if my father and mother are willing. I should
like now to see something of the world."
The Laird's eyes smiled, though his lips
were grave. Beholding his handiwork, his
soul glowed within him. "John, do you re-
member the day you and I met first in the
plow furrows of Little Fantowie?" he asked.
"I have not forgotten. I never will," re-
plied John, and then fumbled in his pocket and
drew forth an envelope.
"What is this?" inquired the Laird, when he
would have offered it to him.
"It is what I have earned. I have been
teaching the most of the winter, and was well
paid. The money part of the bargain is now
paid off, Sir Robert; the other will be a debt to
the day of my death." His voice took a full
note, and his fine eyes, clear mirrors of the
soul, had a mist before them, while his grave
lips trembled.
The Laird was equally moved. "John, I
can't take this; I will not, no, I will not. Give
it to your mother."
"I have enough, and my father and mother
will not want, Sir Robert. They need not
work another hand's turn. I have been writ-
ing things, too, and it is astonishing what
they will pay for the things a man can write.
Please take it."
"I will on one condition only, that it goes
to help someone else. When I look at you,
John Sellars, I am prouder of my share in
you than I can tell. Etta, come here!" He
called a slim young girl feeding the peacocks
at the far end of the terrace, and she, a radiant
vision, came at his bidding.
"Etta, let me introduce you to John Sel-
lars, an honest man. Look at him well; there
are not many like him in this world. More's
the pity for the world. John, my grand-
daughter, Etta Cadwardine."
She laughed and offered a frank, slim white
John took it, and his face reddened, and
the desperate look, almost forgotten, rushed
into his eyes.
As he walked home in the silver gloaming,
he took another vow, a mighty one, that some
day, if stupendous effort should avail him, he


would come back, and seek further speech with
the vision in white.
And that, too, came to pass, and now John
Sellars is as a son at home in the old house
of Fantowie, when he can be spared from the
high position to which he has been called.
It is the John Sellarses that make history,
and who knows but that you, following at
the "plow-tail," as old David Sellars had it,
may be one too? But it is only to some that
the gift has been given.-David Lyall, in The
British Weekly.


Every girl, if she be not thoroughly selfish,
is anxious to lift some of the burden of house-
hold management from her mother's shoulders

one else has to be constantly reminding you
of and supervising your work, it probably
gives that person more trouble than doing it
herself would cause.
Have a definite day and a definite time for
all you do. The flower vases will need atten-
tion every other day, the silver must be
cleaned once a week, and there should be one
day kept for mending and putting away house-
hold linen. Begin, too, directly after break-
fast and keep on steadily till your work is
If you begin by sitting down "just for a
minute" with a book, or think you will "just
arrange the trimming" on your new hat, the
morning will be half gone before you know
where you are.
A girl who has brothers, may spare her
mother all those tiresome little jobs which

Rough Seas.

on to her own; but, unfortunately, many girls
wait to be asked to do things instead of being
constantly on the lookout for little duties
which they are capable of doing.
If you would be of any real use in the
home, you must be quick to notice what is
wanted-the room that needs dusting, the
flowers that need rearranging; the curtain.
which has lost a ring, and is therefore droop-
ing. And then you must not only be willing
to. do what is *needed, but willing to do it
pleasantly, without making people feel that
you are being martyred.
It is almost useless to take up any house-
hold duty unless you do them regularly. If
you do a thing one day and not the next,
you can never be depended on, and if some-

boys are always requesting to have done for
them, if she will only do them kindly. But
a boy will not come and ask his sister to re-
pair frayed-out buttonholes, and to make him
paste for his photograph album, if she snaps
and says he is always bothering. It-is not
easy work, but it is quite possible for the
daughter at home to make sunshine.-Phila-
delphia Ledger.

It is not the wall of stone without
That makes the building small or great
But the soul's light shining round about,
And the faith that overcometh doubt,
And the love that stronger is than hate.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.




The Boy Who Prayed.

IT was a short prayer: "Speak; for Thy servant heareth." That was all
he said the time we read about in the Bible. But it's a nice prayer,
isn't it? He wanted God to speak. He wanted to be a servant of God.
He was waiting to hear what God would say. And 'we have so many nice,
short prayers.
But who was this boy? Where had he learned this prayer? Samuel
is the name of the boy. And it was the old high-priest Eli who taught
him the prayer. Samuel lived in the temple and served there. He used
to run errands for the high-priest. And one night as Samuel lay sleeping,
he heard somebody call, "Samuel, Samuel." He ran to Eli; but he told
him he had not called. Two times more Samuel heard the call, and ran
to Eli. Then Eli understood the Lord was calling and he said to Samuel:
"If you hear the voice again, you just say, 'Speak, Lord; for Thy servant
heareth."' And so Samuel did. That's the way he learned this prayer. And
may be you, too, have learned some little prayer or prayers some evening
from your mother or father. And this boy Samuel became a great man,
because he used to pray and do what God told him to do.
And the Lord heard the prayer this boy spoke that night. He did
speak to this boy and the Lord told him some things that made him afraid.
He told him to tell the high-priest Eli that the Lord was going to punish
Eli because he did not punish his own sons when they were wicked. And
the boy Samuel was afraid the next morning to say anything; but Eli told
him to tell. what God had said. And so the boy who prayed became a
great servant of God.

What Has the Catechism Taught From This Story?

That we should call on the name of the Lord and 'worship Him with
prayer, praise, and thanksgiving.
"Show me what I have to do,
Every hour my strength renew;
Let me live a life of faith,
Let me die Thy people's death."


Dear Editor:-
As 1 have never written to the Children's
Companion, I will try and write now. I
am 12 years old. Our Sunday school hasn't
started yet, but I hope it will start soon. I
was in the Bible History and Explanation.
Lena Opheim is my Sunday school teacher;
and she is a very nice teacher. There are
four pupils in my class; their names are Anna
Bidne, Sarah Bidne, Ellen Opheim. I have
one brother and one sister. Their names are
Irving and Olga; my mother has some over
one hundred first cousins. I am in the sev-
enth grade in the English school. My teach-
er's name is Mary Foley. I like her very
well; we were twenty-five in school this win-
ter. I have about three miles to go to school.
My brother is going to be confirmed this fall.
Our minister went last fall and the minister
that we are going to get can't come until
next fall. We had services, and he said he
would get some minister to try and come and
preach for us. I like to go to Sunday school
and learn about God. I will be thirteen years
old the 6th of September. My brother will
be fifteen years old next Jan., and my sister
will be ten years old in April. There are
three different classes in our Sunday school.
Our superintendent's name is W. L. Peck.
He is the superintendent of our English
school; he is a very nice fellow. All the
scholars like him. We live in the country;
we have a little over three miles to go to Sun-
day school. I like to read the letters in the
Children's Companion. As my letter is get-
ting long, I will close. Your Companion
reader. Orlando Sylvester Thompson.
Now, Orlando, will you please sit down
and try to find what corrections I have made
in your letter. Then we shall be glad to see
your next letter. Come again soon.
Radcliff, Iowa.
Dear Editor:-
I am going to Norwegian Sunday school
now. I will try to go every Sunday if I can.
I read in the little catechism and get Sunday
school papers every Sunday. I enjoy reading
the stories. My Norwegian school teacher is
Miss Emma Larson and my Sunday school
teacher is Mr. Anderson. I am eight years
old and have three sisters and one brother.
As my letter is getting long I must close.
From Avis Cole.
Thank you, Avis! Suppose this was your
first letter to The Companion. You did well
for the first time. We hope to hear from you
again. Then we want you to write with
pen and ink on only one side of the paper.
You forgot that this time, but as you are so
young we did not like to let your letter go
to the waste basket. So we had to rewrite
it. See?

Burbank, S. Dak.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
Your questions, in the Companion for last
Sunday, I will.try to answer.
i. What child was one hundred years
younger than his father? Isaac. You will
find it in Genesis 22, 19.
2. What child had a coat of many colors?
Joseph. That you will find in Genesis 37.
3. What child was rescued from the river
by a king's daughter? Moses, which you
find in Exodus i, 2, 1-10.
4. What child heard the voice of God
calling him in the night? Samuel. You will
find it in Sam. 3.
5. What child kept his father's sheep?
David (i Sam. 16, II).
6. What child was made king of Judah
at eight years of age? Josiah. This you
find in 2 King. 22.
7. What child delivered a mighty man
from a terrible disease? A girl from Israel
(2 King. 5).
8. What child sent to open a gate failed
to do so? Rhoda (Acts 12).
We have a nice Sunday school, it is not
very large. Our minister's name is S. L.
Jacobson. I am twelve years. I have four
sisters and two brothers. Your Companion
reader, -Olga Sletvold.
Thank you, Olga. That is fine. Did you
find all these answers yourself? Can you tell
some of the other readers how you go about
finding the answers to such questions? There
are some who use their Bibles so little that
they do not know how to find any thing.
Could you tell them what to do?
Paoli, N. Dak.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
As I have never written to The Com-
panion before I thought I would write now.
I am eleven years old and am in the fourth
grade. I go to Sunday school every Sun-
day. We have a church half a mile away
and a school house three and a half miles
from home. I am now reading in the Nor-
wegian catechism. Our pastor's name is Rev.
Froland; he is a very nice man and preacher.
Our school teacher's name is Jennie John-
son. I have six sisters and one brother. In
school my duties are reading, history, arith-
metic, language, hygiene, and spelling. It is
very interesting to read the letters in The
Companion. I get The Companion every
Sunday. My mother is my Sunday school
teacher. I hope to see my letter in print.
Please correct all mistakes. With best wishes
to The Companion readers and editor.
Your Companion reader,
Rose Ring.
Yes, Rose, we're glad to correct the mis-
takes; but can you find them now? How do
you spell the name of this paper of ours, the
last name?



Twelve merchants with their camels came
Across the deserts vast;
They knocked upon the gates of Time,
And through Life's city passed;
And they were laden with the wealth
Of countries far away;
With silks and myrrh of nobler worth
Than those of far Cathay.

Twelve merchants with their camels brought
Such gifts to you and me
Of joy and kindness, till it seemed
Life could no richer be;
And shall we let them go away,
Those merchants old and wise;
All empty-handed and forlorn,
With sadness in their eyes?

The merchants with their camels are
The months that make the year-
Oh, for the blessings that they bring,
The hope, and love, and cheer,
Let us give gladly in return
The best of all we are.
That when these merchants go their ways
They go in peace afar.
-Frank Walcott Hutt.


"Mama," said a little five-year-old boy, "I
wish Jesus lived on earth now."
"Why, my darling?"
"Because I should have liked so much to
have done something for Him."
"But what could such a little bit of a fellow
like you have done for the Savior?"
The child hesitated a few moments, then
looked up into its mother's face and said,
"Why, mother, I could run errands for Him."
"So you could, my child, and so you shall.
Here is a glass of jelly and some oranges
I was going to send to poor old sick Margaret
by the servant, but I will let you take them
instead, and do an errand for the Savior; for
when upon earth He said, 'Inasmuch as ye
did it unto one of the least of these, ye did
it unto me.'"
So, remember, children, whenever you do
any kind act for anybody because you love
Jesus, it is just the same as if the Savior
were now living on earth and you were doing
it for Him."-Herald of Mercy.



Mother heard a great sigh. It floated up
stairs and seemed to come from the Alcove.
It sounded so unusual that she went to see
what was wrong.
"We haven't a single book but what we
have read," said Gay dolefully.
"Might read them over, I s'pose," sighed
Ray, "but it feels tame."
"I have two new books," said mother
brightly, "one is red and one is black. They
are our new tracts on India and Africa. Run
up and get them, Ray; you will find several.
Bring down three of each."
"Black Africa" and "Red-Hot India," com-
mented Gay as he appeared. "Whew! isn't that
red bright. I like it! Let's take India first,
"Better so, too," said Ray, "cause we have
our India boys and girls for our Mission Band
subject this month."
"Now," said mother, opening "India and
Guntur ," "let us read the first section to our-
selves and then play we have been to India
and are telling about it. Whoever misses gets
a black mark."
"Tell all?" asked Gay in dismay.
"Oh! no, only what we remember. Now,
quiet." And the three heads bent over three
little red books.
"Now, Ray!"
"No, thank you, mother, you can have first
go," was the polite reply.
"I traveled east to India and crossed the
snowy Himalaya Mountains on the northern
side. India is about as large as the United
States west of the Mississippi," began mother.
"There are twelve sacred rivers in India. Of
these 'Mother Ganga,' or the Ganges, is the
most reverenced. To bathe in any of them
washes away sin. The delta of the Ganges
is as wide as-I forget."
"One black mark for mother! It said from
New York to Washington."
"It depends on where you are in India
as to how you find the climate. The snow-
topped mountains are very cold, the plains
grow so hot that missionaries have to take
their vacations in .the hills.. But it is hotter
than we would like to work in nearly all the
year. There-we won't tell any more of the
first section. Now take the second," said


mother, and in a few moments she called on
Ray to tell part of its information.
"Oh! there are three hundred million peo-
ple- don't see how they were ever sure when
they'd got 'em all counted. The British govern
them finely, and the native Rajahs swear
loyalty to them. There are over one hundred
and sixty different ways to say the same thing
in India."
"Different dialects, you mean," put in
"Yes'm-so they are all learning English,
and then they can say it in one good language,
the best in the world," finished Ray.
"Ray! It didn't say that at all," said Gay
"Well, it meant it," asserted Ray in loy-
alty to his mother-tongue.
For some moments they studied the ques-
tions and answers on "Religions of India,"
and then Gay said despairingly, "Mother! it's
mny turn and I can't take it. Give me a
black mark and let me off."
"Demon worship is their oldest religion,"
said mother. "The teachers who came later
gave them sacred writings and the belief in
a system of caste. The Mohammedans taught
of God, but not of Christ, for Mohammed is
their great prophet. But they taught that
women must be shut up in their homes or
zenanas. Missionaries are trying to reach and
teach them all. That isn't half the tract tells,
but we want to find out a little all the way
through if we can."
"Yes'm-I'll try caste," said Gay, after
studying the next section. "It's like families
-and one is better than another, and mustn't
eat with the rest or marry them-if he does
he is disgraced forever. One of their Rajahs
will only speak to Europeans before he takes
his morning bath, so he can wash away the
disgrace and be clean all day. It is dread-
ful for them to become Christians; they lose
their homes and their families won't feed
them, and they can't even get work some-
Ray took the next turn. "They have idols
in every home. They always dedicate their
houses to the gods and have to move in in
the part of the year when their idols are
awake. It reminds me of Elijah and the
prophets of Baal, 'perhaps he is asleep'-
you remember, Ray, how we laughed over
that! They sleep on a mat on the floor and
have only a few pots and spoons. Rich folks
have more, but most Hindus are poor, you
know. The mother-in-law rules 'em all, and
the girls have a hard time. They have to
marry whoever is picked out for them, even

if he is old or sick or a leper, and if he dies
she is a widow forever, and has the worst sort
of a time. I know they used to be burned
with the dead body of their husband, but the
British government stopped it."
Dingle, dingle, went the supper bell, and
the sections on missions, Guntur and all our
work were left for another time, but they
all voted "Red-Hot India" to be a fine tract.
-Luth. Boys and Girls.


"I know I'm awfully careless," said a
young girl, the other day, complacently; "but
I inherit it fast enough! Papa never could
keep a pencil or a penknife, grandma says.
So no wonder I lose about a dozen handker-
chiefs a week."
No one spoke for a minute, and then big,
blundering Tom "spoke up" vigorously.
"Well, there! I never thought of that way
of shirking the blame of my sins, sis! Great
scheme! Come to think of it, that must be
how I find it so hard to keep from clumping
round the house like a baby Jumbo-I ex-
pect I kind of 'inherit' it from mother! And
then, as to keeping my face and hands clean,
you all know what a way she has of going
round with wrists and knuckles grimy!"
Everybody laughed, even mother, sitting
cool and dainty in the bow window, hemming
ruffles. Somehow it seemed to laugh down
that other nonsense about shirking one's own
faults and sins, instead of leaving them where
they belong-on one's own shoulders.-Sel.

T)t Cblfbren' Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark, Illinois
Terms of Subscription:
Single Subscription........................... .. $ 0.35
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When more than 100 copies are ordered, the number
exceeding 100 copies are charged at 25 cents per copy.
Sent to Canada and foreign countries, 2 numbers every
other week 60 cents.
Sample copies free on application.
SAddress all business communications to
Entered at the post office at Minneapolis, Minn., as
second-class matter.

"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."

Vol. XX. Sunday, January 19, 1913. No. 3.

(By Alma L. Gregory.)

Barbara's Aunt Martha glanced up at the
big brass wall clock in the dining room, and
shook her head incredulously.

I'm glad to be relieved of part of the work,
especially as Mary requested that I have Bar-
bara help me as much as possible, and I'm
fond of Barbara anyway. She's a sweet girl,
and so' fond of reading! That will be a bond
between us."

Going to Sunday School.

"That clock must be wrong. It can't be
an hour and a half since Barbara went upstairs
to do the chamber work, or else she must
be doing it very nicely. It's going to be a
great comfort to have her here this summer.

When fifteen minutes more had passed and
still Barbara did not appear, Aunt Martha
went upstairs to see what her niece was doing.
At the head of the stairs she stopped with a
little exclamation of surprise. The door of her


own room was open and everything was in
the disorder of early morning, the bed still
unmade, the white shirt waist she had worn
the afternoon before spread out upon a chair
back. The room beyond, occupied by a busi-
ness girl who boarded with Aunt Martha,
showed the same condition of affairs. A
glimpse into Barbara's room explained the
reason. In a rocking chair by the shady west
window, completely absorbed in a book, sat
the girl who had agreed to be responsible for
the chamber work during her stay with Aunt
At sight of her aunt, Barbara started and
flushed uncomfortably. "Oh, auntie, I meant
to have everything done before you came up-
stairs! But I picked up this book just for a
moment, and before I realized it, I was so
interested that.I simply couldn't leave it. I'll
hurry, though, and get everything done up in
a jiffy."
The next morning Barbara did the chamber
work before she picked up her book, but she
was so anxious to get into the story again
that she hurried, through the work, spreading
the beds up hastily, pushing shoes back under
chairs or behind doors instead of putting
them away, and hastily flicking a feather
duster over the furniture. When Aunt Martha
came upstairs later in- the morning, it was
plain to her experienced.-eye that the work
had been. done up "in a jiffy," as Barbara had
said the day before. She6.was a careful house-
keeper, and did not like to see tousled beds
and disorderly rooms.
There were many times that summer when
Aunt Martha wished that her niece was not
so fond of reading. Some mornings the
chamber work was left till nearly noon, or
Aunt" Martha did it herself, while Barbara
buried herself in a book, so anxious to see
how the story "came out" that she was good
for nothing until she had finished it.- Some
mornings she raced through the work at top
Speed, so that she could begin a book which,
she had found in one of the cases downstairs.
But she was never .to be depended upon for
regular or careful work, and Aunt Martha
often felt that it would be easier and a good
deal more satisfactory to do it all herself.
Reading is something that no girl can
afford to neglect, but like 'everything else, it
has its time and its place. It should not cast
its spell over the hours that belong to regular
duties, nor make us careless and indifferent
as to how we do the work that belongs to us.
Work and reading should both be part of our
education, one as important as the other. No

matter how interesting the story may be, it
should not.encroach on the time that belongs
to our work or to some special duty for which
we are held responsible. When we slight
our work by doing things up "in a jiffy,"
hastily and carelessly, we are cheating our-
selves out of a training that we have a right
to, the trainingt in habits of thorough, care-
ful, conscientious work. All the reading we
may do will not make up to us for the loss
of that training. Reading is all right in its
own time and place, but it should not be
allowed to interfere with other things that
have their rightful share in our lives.


Some years ago a young business man, who
was also a good Christian, happened to be
in a little town in the mountain region of
Pennsylvania. A small mission church was
struggling along as best it might, and he be-
came interested in it, and was made its
treasurer. Wishing to put it upon as busi-
nesslike a basis as possible, he proposed to
the people that though they could not pay
all their pastor's salary, they should contribute
systematically to the other expenses, and try
to enlarge their gifts, year by year, until the
church should be self-supporting. The con-
gregation seemed rather apathetic, but at last
a meeting was held at which- each one pledged
a certain fixed amount to be paid some time
within the year.
The treasurer himself promised a generous
gift, and commenced at once to pay it in by
small installments. But the other subscribers
delayed unaccountably. Finally, one day, when
the young man was in the principal store of
the place, the proprietor, who had pledged a
very small sum (though he. was one of the
richest men in the town), said to him.
"When are you coming after my subscrip-
tion, Mr. B- ? I've been expecting you to
dun me for it the last month. You know I
promised you something at the church meet-
"No, I did not know it," said the young
"Why, I did. I promised you-" naming
the amount.
The young' man shook his head. "You
never promised me a cent, Mr. N.-," he
said. "You promised that sum to the Lord.
It is between you and Him. I am the treasurer
of His church here, and when you are ready
to fulfill your promise to Him you can bring
it to me as His steward, to be used in His


work. But I, personally, have nothing to do
with dunning you for it, as you seem to
expect me to do. I shall never ask you for a
cent of it-that's not my business."
The man fairly gasped. "See here, young
fellow," he said, "our last treasurer just went
round and begged for the money, right and
left, all the time."
"Did he get it?" said the young man.
The storekeeper slapped his knee. "Well,
no, he didn't-that's a fact," he said, with a
great laugh.
Before six months were over that man had
given nearly double his original subscription,
and had told the story of his conversation with
the treasurer to every customer he had, with
the result that the rest of the subscribers were
spurred to pay up promptly, too. The church
raised more money that year than it had ever
done before, and took, unconsciously, a great
step in its spiritual life, by learning to give
to God rather than to men.
This anecdote is a true one. Has it no
lesson for those of us outside of mission
churches in western Pennsylvania?-Well-
Spring. _____


If we but knew what dangers lie before-
What wells of bitterness,
What paths of weariness,
That, darkening, go by sorrow's gloomy
Would we not closer hold the Master's hand,
And seek more oft his counsel and command,
If we but knew?

If we but knew what dangers we have missed,
Led safely, surely on-
While happy suns have shone
Upon our paths, and Peace our lips has
Would not our hearts go out in thankful-
The Master's love our every act confess,
If we but knew?

We cannot know; in wisdom he doth hide
The mystic way he leads,
We can but sow the seeds
Of hope, of trust: he is a faithful guide;
And, seeing not, we should believe the more.
He knows all things who sweetly goes before,
We cannot know.


Bang! went the bat against the ball. Each
of the Yale runners sprinted for the next
base. The ball hurtled over Murray's head
into the outfield. He saw Ramsdall going
after it with great strides and felt the Yale
runner bearing down upon him. Would Rams-
dall never get there? He had it. Here it
came high in the air-too high. Murray
reached up and caught it-seized it rather;
his hand swept down toward the stooping
"Out!" cried the umpire.
Princeton went mad at the word. Cheers,
yells, flags waving-and then "Rah, rah, rah,
But the Yale runner had leaped to his feet
with flaming eye.
"I'm not out!" he cried. "He did not touch
The umpire smiled and looked at Mur-
ray, who turned pale under his questioning
"I'm always looking for Princeton men to
do something more than that-something with
a touch of chivalry about it." Where had he
heard that? 0, yes-he remembered. Some
power greater than himself opened his lips.
"He is right, Mr. Umpire," he said: "I did
not touch him."
The official's eyes widened in amazement.
This was something new in his experience.
"Very well," he said slowly, at last, "I
reverse my decision. The runner is safe."
The Yale man, with a face alight, held out
his hand to Murray.
"Shake hands," he said. "That was fine.
I am proud to know you."-New Lippincott


It is certainly remarkable that China, for
ages the most conservative nation in the
world, should, today by leaps and strides be-
come in some degree so radical and liberal
that the spectator stands amazed. The latest
feature is that the new republic China gives
women an equal share in the ballot with men.
There is, to be sure, a restrictive qualification
as to the vote, but this affects men and women
in the same way. The one of either sex who
wishes to vote must possess some property
and know how to read and write.-Christian




The Boy Who Went to Church.

HE was twelve years old that time we read about him; but we know
he used to go regularly. And that's the only kind of church-going
that is good for much. If you go only once in a while, it doesn't help you
much; and it doesn't help the church or the people or the pastor much.
The boy we speak of had the habit of going, and that's a good habit.
Jesus is the boy we are speaking about. And he went with his
parents that time. They used to go and that's the way most boys and girls
learn to go to church. And he staid after his parents were gone. He
went looking around in the fine, big church or temple. And he got in-
terested, it seems.
And so when Mary and Joseph went to hunt for him, they found him
at last in the temple. And he wasn't alone. Around him were sitting
some old men, teachers and preachers. They were asking him questions.
And he answered well. They were surprised at him. When boys go reg-
ularly to church, they usually learn something and they make
good men.
For when Jesus grew up, he used to do the same as he did when a
boy. He went to church every Sabbath Day. That's the way he remem-
bered to keep it holy. So many, many men become unhappy and wicked
and unsuccessful when they began to keep away from church on

What Has the Catechism Taught From This Story?

That we do not despise preaching and the Word of God, but deem it
holy and willingly hear and learn it.

"Safely through another week,
God has brought us on our way;
Let us now a blessing seek,
Waiting in His courts to-day:
Day of all the week the best,
Emblem of eternal rest."



An engineer gave his little girl a small red
flag to play with, and explained, that on the
road the red flag signifies danger. "Would you
stop your train if you saw a red flag on the
track?" she asked. "Yes," he said, "or there

might be an accident." After her papa had
left, the little one found her mamma crying.
"Why are you crying, mamma?" she asked.
The mother gave no answer. -But as the
child saw the decanter on the sideboard, she
said: "Is it because papa drank some of that
nasty brandy before he went to work?" "Yes,

dear, you see he is getting worse, and will
surely lose his place. He thinks the people
do not notice, but they must notice it. --And
he will, I fear, completely wreck his life."
The child did not forget her mother's
worry. All day long she thought of what
she might do to help, and at last she thought

of the red flag, and what her papa had told
her it stands for. Going to the sideboard, she
firmly fastened the flag to the decanter, and
then when to bed satisfied. The father came
home, went to the sideboard for a usual night-
cap, but saw the flag, and understood and
heeded the warning.-Selected.


Malta, Ill. Lanesboro, Minn.

Dear Editor:-
I enjoy reading The Companion very
much, so I thought I would write a few
lines. I am twelve years old, and I have one
sister and one brother. I go to Sunday
school every Sunday. I study Volrath Vogt's
Bible History. My teacher's name is Mr.
0. C. Brown. I like him because he explains
the lessons so well. Our pastor's name is
Rev. J. A. Johnson. Best wishes to editor
and Companion readers. -Alma Olson.
Pleased to have your letter, Alma. We
don't hear from Malta very often. Glad to
note that you like Sunday school and that
you appreciate the efforts of your teacher.
Velva, N. D.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
As I have written to The Children's Com-
panion before, I will write again. I am going
to school nowadays. Our school started in
October some time.- Our teacher's name is
Miss Alma Larson. There is quite a bit of
snow on the ground now, so we are having
sleigh rides to school every day. It snowed
last night, too. My sister Mamie is teaching
school over by Dogden, a town just about six-
teen miles from here. I have been staying at
our neighbor's taking care, of their children
when they had the threshers. I 'made $2.00
while I was there. Well, I guess I'll have to
quit, hoping to see my letter in print soon.
Your Companion reader,
-Lillie Smestad.
Thank you for writing again, Lillie. See
you are already earning some money. Did
you ever think of honoring the Lord with
every dollar you make, by laying aside at least
ten cents of every dollar for missions, chil-
dren's homes, or for the poor? If you once begin
to do -that, I am sure you will like it and be
blessed in doing so. For every dime you
make you would put aside for the Lord's cause
one cent. If you have made ten dollars, you
would have a whole dollar to give.
Velva, N. D.
Dear Editor:-
I have not written to The Children's Com-
panion for a long while, so I will write now.
I am going to school now. Our teacher's
name is Miss Larson. I am ten years old and
am in the fourth grade. My sister is teach-
ing school now. I have three brothers and
two sisters going to school. I will close,
hoping to see my letter in print. From
-Esther Smestad.
Thank you for your letter, Esther! Some
day you will be a teacher, too, if you do well
at school. All teachers were little once. Let
us hear from you again.

Dear Editor:-
As I have never written to the Companion
Circle, I will try and do so now. I go to the
Lutheran Sunday school. My teacher's name
is Miss Mabel Williams. She is a good
teacher. Our minister is Rev. Rasmussen. I
am twelve years of age and in the fifth grade
at school. My school teacher's name is Miss
McCarthy. I guess my letter is getting long
and I will close, hoping to see my letter in
print. -Dorothy Grabow.
Here it is, Dorothy. It's not too long.
Come again.
Bremen, Kans.
Dear Editor:-
I have not written to the Companion be-
fore, but will write a few lines now. I have
found the Bible verse given in our paper,
which the readers were to find, in Acts 20:32,
as follows: And now, brethren, I commend
you to God, and to the Word of His grace,
which is able to build you up, and give to you
an inheritance among all them which are sanc-
tified. I will send the following verse for
the readers to find: "Because thou hast kept
the word of my patience, I also will keep
thee from the hour of temptation, which shall
come upon all .the world, to try them that
dwell upon the earth." I will now close,
hoping my verse will soon be found. With
best wishes, I am,
A Companion reader,
-Agnes Peterson.
Many thanks, Agnes. We are glad to hear
you search the Scriptures. Do you know
where to find where Jesus said that, "Search
the Scriptures"? Come again soon.
Morrisonville, Wis.
Dear Editor:-
I live in a small burg of about two hun-
dred inhabitants, and as I have not seen a
letter in your paper from this place, I thought
I would write one. I enjoy all the letters
in the Companion every week. I am nine
years old. I go to the Lutheran Sunday
school, and like it very much. My teacher's
name is Miss Hamre. She is also the super-
intendent. We have forty boys and girls go-
ing to Sunday school. I am in fourth grade
in public school. My teacher's name is Miss
Nelson. I have one sister, Gladys. -She is
in seventh grade. Hoping to see my letter in
print, I am,
Your friend and Companion reader,
-Luetta Dieruf.
That was a nicely written letter, Luetta,
and we're glad to hear from you. What do
you think you would like to have the boys
and girls write about in their letters after
this? Let us hear from you.



A Story for the Young Folks.
(By Katherine A. Workman, Missionary
in India.)

You may think that Tunmunia is a very
odd name and so it is, even in the Hindoo-
stanee language. "Tunmunia" means "very
tiny," and the reason why this little girl was
so called was because she was very small
indeed when a baby. But what we .wish to
tell you about happened later in her life, when
she was about ten years old.
One day as Tunmunia was out in the little
field with her mother pulling weeds, her father
came home from the city with a bundle of
new clothes under his arm. She was a little
surprised because they did not usually get new
clothes at-that season; but she was told that
they were all to go to the great mela
(religious gathering) which is held every year
in Allahabad. There was to be an eclipse of
the sun and one of the moon during the time
of this mela, and it would be especially bene-
ficial, the Brahmans said, to bathe at the
junction of the Jumna and Ganges rivers, while
these eclipses were on. Therefore Lachman
Lukra had determined to take his family to
the mela.
Of course it would not do to go wearing
old clothing, especially as Lachman was quite
a well-to-do Hindoo, for his little village, so
he had bought six yards of new cloth for his
wife, four yards for Tunmunia and shirts and
dhoties for himself and his two sons.
The next day all was hustle and bustle in
the house, for everything must be gotten
ready for a start at three o'clock the following
morning, as Lachman and his family would
go in the old pilgrim way, and not by railway.
Their little village was about twelve miles
from the forks of the rivers so they must
make an early start in order to be there at the
time of the eclipse. There were chipaties
(bread) to be made for the next day and
wheat to be ground in order to have enough
flour to last until they should get home again.
These provisions were packed into two
baskets together with the necessary cooking
utensils. The baskets were fastened, one to
either end of a pole about four feet long,
which would be carried on the shoulder of a

Next morning the children were awakened
at the proper time and all three of them placed
on one donkey; then they made their-way
from their little village through the fields and
to the road which led to the city. They soon
found they were not alone, for from every
village they passed the people came flocking
out also on their way to the mela, in hopes
of gaining some benefit to their souls from
the waters of the rivers during the eclipses.
The nearer they came to the river the more
crowded the road became until they had to
keep hold of each other in order to keep
They reached the forks of the rivers at
about ten o'clock and the eclipse would begin
to come on at eleven; so they sat down. for a
smoke while they waited. This was the first
time-that Tunmunia had ever been beyond the
fields which surrounded her own home, so she
saw many things which were new to her.
There were people from all parts of India
dressed each in his peculiar style, and she was
so taken up with looking at them that she
hardly knew what her father and mother were
In a little while they called the children to
get ready for their baths in the sacred waters.
They pushed their way through the multitude
of people who were actually trampling over
one another to get to the water. They heard
afterward that two persons were trampled to
death and another had drowned in very
shallow water on account of the crowd. The
water was more like mud than water, but they
would go out until it was over their heads
because they accounted it holy.
Lachman and his family got safely into
the water and out again, after which they
went about to do homage to the different
religious votaries who were there.
There was the man who had held his right
hand erect for twelve years, and now was
unable to take it down. He must have some
of Lachman's hard-earned pice.
Next was the fakir lying on the bed of
nails, torturing himself to excite the pity and
awe of the simple country folks. The bed
of nails is a wooden platform with nails driven
into it from the under side, about an inch
apart all over the bed, so that the points of the
nails extend above the wood about two
Then there was the fakir hanging over the
fire. A slow fire was built on the ground and
the fakir was suspended by a rope around his
waist, just far enough above the fire so that
he would be tortured but hot burned by the
flames. He does this of his own free will in


order to induce the people to give him money.
The poor deluded people of course think that
he does it to please the gods. Years ago the
fakirs, instead of being suspended by ropes,
hung from large iron hooks which were
hooked into the muscles of their backs; but
the English government has stopped that
awful practice.
All this was very wonderful and awful to
Tunmunia and she cried more than once. They
soon left this part of the grounds however;
for her mother had a vow to pay and she
must go and attend to it. The eldest son
had been very ill and this woman had vowed
that she would do whatever the Brahmans
should tell her to do if the boy would only
get well.
They found a Brahman who had a cow, a
very ordinary looking animal, except that it
had an extra horn, which was in the middle of
its forehead. Whether it had grown there or
had been stuck on, who can tell? This
Brahman told Shulmi, for that was the
mother's name, that she had to walk around
the cow three times, then put a little rice by
each one of its feet; after this she must walk
around again three times and then. put a
piece of money by each foot; this done, she
had to walk around three times more and
then take hold of the cow's tail while the
priest went through an incantation over her.
Then after paying a good sum of money to
the Brahman she 'was allowed to touch the
horn in the middle of the cow's forehead, and
her vow was finished.
Not far from them was another woman
who was paying a vow, but in quite a different
way. She was winding yards and yards of
string around the trunk of a large tree and at
every third wind she had to put a piece of
money at the foot of the tree. On each of the
four sides of the tree was a little dish of oil
in which a string was kept burning.
Time had passed very swiftly and little
Tunmunia was so tired that she began to cry.
It was beginning to get dark too, so Lach-
mand Lakra with some of his neighbors took
their families to the outskirts of the crowd
and the women and children went to sleep
while the men went back to take another bath
in the holy waters while the eclipse of the
moon was on.
Children, do you ever think what a wonder-
ful thing it is that you were born in a
country where you could learn about Jesus?
God has let us know about salvation so that
we can tell these people who do not know.
You are too small to come and tell them now,
but you can pray for them.

"There is a monument in Philadelphia
erected to Prof. Joseph Leide, the most dis-
tinguished naturalist, probably, ever con-
nected with the University of Pennsylvania.
It is related of him that once, having collected
half a dozen frogs for the purpose of study-
ing their habits under certain conditions, he
shut them up in a box for a little while,
until he could give the time necessary for his
desired observations. Forgetting all about
his captives, he left his home on some im-
portant errand. When he was six miles away
he suddenly remembered them, and lest they
should suffocate because of his neglect he
walked back the whole distance to place them
in comfortable quarters. This was told us
by one familiar with the circumstances. It
seems that this regard for sentient life was
characteristic of the man.
"It is a fine contradiction of the too often
accepted notion that to be a great scholar or
scientist, or to be particularly gifted intellectu-
ally, you must necessarily be deficient in heart.
Many a lad has imagined that cleverness and
kindness seldom go together."-Ex.
The United States government now has
the largest and finest safe in the world. It is
located deep under ground, below the Treas-
ury Building in Washington. It is fifty-four
feet long, nearly twenty feet wide, and about
sixteen feet high, and provides storage for at
least five hundred million dollars in currency.
Its steel door has four combinations, and no
one man can open it. Each of two trusted
employes knows two of the combinations.-

tbe Cb(lbrtn' Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark. Illinois
Terms of Subsqription:
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Sample copies free on application.
Address all business communications to
Entered at the post office at Minneapolis, Minn., as
second-class matter.


"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."

Vol. XX. Sunday, January 26, 1913. No. 4.

(By Anne Guilbert Mahon.)

"Twenty minutes more," whispered Beulah
to herself as her fingers flew over the keys of
her typewriter.
With happy, expectant eyes she glanced
out of the window. It was perfect day-
the last half holiday of the season.
Swiftly her fingers flew. Letter after letter
was finished and placed on the pile before
The hands of the clock pointed to the
quarter hour-ten minutes of-five minutes
of-only one more letter to do and then the
long-looked-for half holiday, the picnic to the
lake with the rest of the girls. Beulah's mind
was filled with happy plans even while her
carefull eyes scanned her notes and her fingers
flew over the typewriter keys.
"I'm so glad we close at one," she mur-
mured. "I couldn't catch the train if we didn't.
Oh, it's a perfect afternoon for the picnic"-
Her happy reverie was interrupted by her
,employer, who came abruptly into the room.
"0 Miss Baker!" he exclaimed, with a look
of relief. "I was so afraid you had gone!
There is just one more letter I want to get
,off, but it's a most important one."
Beulah gave a dismayed glance at the clock.
Three minutes of the hour! She fumbled ner-
vously for her notebook and pencil, then sat,
mechanically, waiting for the dictation.
Usually, Mr. Drew was a rapid dictator.
He thought and spoke fluently and there were
-never any pauses, but today it seemed to
Beulah that it took him ages to dictate that
one short letter. He corrected himself, he
asked her to read what she had already writ-
ten, he changed extensively, and all through
it he was agitated and undecided as Beulah
had never seen him before. Never had she
known him to dictate with such hesitating,
provoking slowness, and all the while the
precious moments were flying.
The clock struck the hour and still Mr.

Drew dictated and hesitated and corrected.
Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed. Beulah gave
up all hope. The train left at one-twenty.
She could not possibly catch it now. She
tried to choke back the tears of disappoint-
ment and rebellion which welled up.
Half-past one it was when Mr. Drew
finished the letter. He gave a deep sigh as if
his mind was relieved of some weighty re-
sponsibility, then he said, pleasantly:
"I will ask you to write out that letter,
Miss Baker. It will not take you long, will
it? I do not want to interfere with your half
"No, Mr. Drew, it will not take long," an-
swered Beulah, trying to speak pleasantly,
but with a tremble in her voice which she
could not conceal.
Mr. Drew noticed the tremble and looked
inquiringly and kindly at the girl, but her head
was bent over her notebook and he, suspect-
ing nothing, slowly left the room.
It took Beulah but a few minutes to write
the letter, but they might as well have been
hours, she said to herself. The girls were off
to the lake without her. There was no later
train which stopped at the little way station
at the lake.
The letter finished, Beulah took it into Mr.
Drew's office. He thanked her courteously
and said:
"I was sorry to delay you, but the letter
was very important. I appreciate your stay-
It was only a little thing, of course, Beulah
said to herself, and she was glad to oblige
Mr. Drew, who was always so considerate of
his employees, but her afternoon was spoiled.
Listlessly she gathered up her writing
materials, put them into the drawer, closed
her desk, took down her hat and coat and
prepared to leave the office.
What should she do the whole, livelong
afternoon, she asked herself. She had no
heart to go on an outing by herself now.
All her friends had gone to the lake. There


was no one to share her holiday with her-
no place she cared especially to go.
She walked slowly along the dark cor-
ridor of the big office building, engrossed in
her thoughts, in her disappointment, when she
stumbled against some one. Looking up she
saw the little cleaning woman putting on her
hat and coat at the closet in the corner of the
"Good afternoon,. Mrs. Riley," she said, try-
ing to smile pleasantly.
The little scrub woman nodded brightly.
"Are you off for the day?" she asked.
"Yes," responded Beulah in a disappointed
tone, "but I've missed my train so I can't go
to the picnic after all."
"I'm so sorry," and the little woman's eyes
showed sympathy. Beulah had been very
kind to her at different times and she never
forgot it and took great interest in the ca-
pable stenographer.
"I have a half holiday, too," she said, smil-
ing. "Mr. Burke, the janitor, said if I hurried
and finished what I had to do this morning I
might have this afternoon off, if I came back
at five to clean the offices for the night."
"I am so glad for you, Mrs. Riley!" ex-
claimed Beulah heartily. "You deserve a holi-
day. What are you going to do with it?"
"I'll have a chance to spend the afternoon
with the children. That will be a treat, you
know, but I'll have some sewing and plenty
of other things to do," laughed the little
woman happily.
Beulah knew what a hard time she had,
how she was a widow struggling to keep the
home together and bring up her two children
on the pittance she received for scrubbing and
cleaning the building. She had often told
Beulah about the children-little lame Agnes
and'baby Jimmie. She had told the girl, with
tears in her eyes, how it worried her to be
obliged to leave them at home alone all day,
even if they were ill. She must be at her
post, however, and do her work each day if
she wished to keep her position.
"Mrs. Riley," said Beulah suddenly,
"couldn't you take your sewing and come out
to the park for the afternoon-you and the
children? It's a beautiful day. It would do
you good."
"0 Miss Baker!" the little woman's eyes
shone with happy amazement. "Do you really
mean it? Why, I haven't been in the park
for years-and Jimmie has never been."
"That is just what we will do, then," an-
swered Beulah. "I haven't a thing to do this

afternoon and I shall enjoy taking you and
the children."
Overflowing with happy gratitude, the little
scrub woman led the way down a narrow
street leading off from the business section
of the city-a street which was a revelation
to Beulah, who had thought she knew some-
thing of the poverty and squalor of the great
city. Scores of half-clad, hungry-looking
children, and worn, shabbily dressed women
peered curiously at them from th2 doorways,
while occasionally a man, under the influence
of liquor, reeled past.
"This is our court," announced Mrs. Riley,
leading the way through what appeared to
be a side entrance to a large house, which
had, in the earlier days of the city, evidently
been an imposing one, but which now was
used as a tenement
Passing through the entrance, Beulah
found herself in a small, brick-paved square,
flanked on all sides by tiny houses. It might
have been a bearable habitation in winter,
but on a warm afternoon it was stifling. No
air seemed to penetrate through those walls.
The bricks only reflected and intensified the
Before one of the small houses Mrs. Riley
stopped, took out her key and opened the
"Mother! Mother! Hurrah!" was heard in
a thin, childish voice.
A boy of four sprang into his mother's
arms, then hid his curly head on her shoulder
in sudden bashfulness when he saw the strange
young lady.
Over the floor tapped a crutch and a slip
of a girl appeared in the doorway.
"This is Agnes?" asked Beulah gently as
the girl smiled a shy welcome.
How their faces shone when their mother
told them about the plan for the afternoon!
Beulah thought she had never seen such de-
light before. Agnes' little crutch flew over
the floor as she got her hat and Jimmie's,
while that young person could only peep from
his mother's shoulder, his eyes shining with
"Won't you have a cup of tea before we
go?" asked Mrs. Riley.
"Thank you," answered Beulah, "but we
don't want to lose one minute of this perfect
afternoon.- We can get our luncheon in the
park at a little restaurant that has an open
porch, and we can be enjoying the open air
at the same time."
They started off, and Beulah actually for-
got about her own picnic and her disappoint-
ment in the joy of her charges. A crowd of


curious wistful children gathered about the
doorway, as the little party started off, and
Beulah's heart ached for a moment that she
could not take them all-away from the noisy,
dirty, heat-infested brick court out into the
pure air and green fields of the park.
Agnes' crutch tapped merrily over the pave-
ment and every few minutes she paused to
look up into her new friend's face and smile
happily. Her mother's tongue went inces-
santly, now thanking Beulah for the great
treat she was giving them, now admonishing
Jimmie to "walk like a gentleman" (he was
dancing along as if on air). It was hard to
tell which of the party was the happiest.
The climax of their joy was reached when
they got to the park. Jimmie ran and rolled
down the green hillsides. He chased the
birds. He asked questions about the wonder-
ful "country." He ran and he shouted. Never
*had Beulah seen such unalloyed bliss.
And Agnes, how her little crutch did fly!
Her pale cheeks glowed with new life, her
.eyes shone. She scampered over the green
.grass almost as fast as the children who were
not lame.
As for the mother, she sank down on a
,bench with such a sigh of happiness and relief
that the tears came into Beulah's eyes. To
think that when it was in her power to give
.all this happiness to this tired mother and
these little children she had been grumbling
because she had been disappointed over one
They went to the little restaurant on the
,banks of the lake, where they sat on the porch
and ate their luncheon. The girl ordered a
generous one and how they ate! Beulah
.laughed and laughed as she asked the waiter
,to replenish the plate of sandwiches and
,ordered a second plate of ice cream for Jim-
,mie, despite his mother's protests.
After their hunger was appeased, Beulah
-took them for a row in a "real boat," as
Jimmie called it, the first time he and Agnes
had ever been on the water in a rowboat. How
they laughed and sang as they dipped their
"hands in the cool water! How their mother's
face flushed and her eyes shone with happiness
:as she watched them!
Then there was a ride in the goat wagon
for Agnes and Jimmie, and a trip on the
-wonderful merry-go-round.
All too soon for each of them Mrs. Riley
said, reluctantly, that she must be back at the
-office building at five and it was time to go.
Jimmie began to cry, but Beulah hailed a

passing vendor and a bag of popcorn and
cakes acted as a temporary panacea.
"We'll all come again some afternoon," she
promised. "This has been a happy afternoon
to me as well as to you, and it is only a
beginning. There will be half holidays next
summer and if we can we'll have some more
picnics like this one-and perhaps we can
take some of your friends, too."
"You will never know how happy it has
made us-what good it has done us," mur-
mured the little scrub woman.
"It has made me happy, and done me good,
too," answered Beulah heartily as she bade
the little group good-by and started off in the
direction of her home.
"To think," she said to herself, "that I
actually felt rebellious about my disappoint-
ment, when there was such a chance as that
coming to me!"
In her happy recollections she scarcely
noticed a girl who brushed against her.
"Why, Beulah Baker!" cried the girl. Beu-
lah looked up and recognized Belle Upham,
one of the party with whom she had expected
to go to the lake. "Why didn't you come with
us?" she asked.
Beulah explained, smiling brightly into her
friend's flushed, tire-looking face.
"Well, you didn't miss much," responded
Belle somewhat wearily. "We didn't have
nearly so good a time as we expected. There
was such a crowd there that we couldn't get
a boat, and Alice Ingram lost her bracelet in
the woods and made the afternoon miserable
for all of us in hunting for it and lamenting
about it, and they've cut down something of
the trees around the lake, so it was dread-
fully sunny and not nearly so pretty as it
used to be, and, oh-picnics are a bore, any-
"Come with me next time," laughed Beulah
happily. "My picnic wasn't a bit of a bore."
"Perhaps I will," answered Belle, aroused
into languid interest.
"I suppose it is true," said Beulah to her-
self as she entered her own door, "that when-
ever anything is taken away from us, it is to
make room for something better. I certainly
am glad things turned out the way they did
this afternoon-I shall always be glad, all
my life."

It is not the wall of stone without
That makes the building small or great,
But the soul's light shining round about,
And the love that stronger is than hate.
.-H. W. Longfellow.


The Girl Who Kept the Fourth Commandment.
WE can never forget her. WVe like to read about her and we name our
girls after her. It was Ruth.
You know she left so much, she gave up so many things for that old
lady, Naomi, who was the mother-in-law of Ruth. When Naomi wanted
to go back to her old home, because she felt so bad, Ruth said she'd go
with her. Naomi, you know, had lost her husband and her two boys.
They were dead. And so Ruth left her old home and her people to go
with her mother-in-law. The old lady didn't want her to, but Ruth said
she would. "Your God shall be my God," she said, "and I'll stay with you
as long as you live." That's a way to keep the Fourth Commandment.
And she worked for Naomi and helped support her. When they got
to Bethlehem, to the old home of Naomi, then Ruth went out into the
fields and gleaned. That means she picked up what was left of barley
and other straw. They used to let the poor people do that. And Ruth
wasn't ashamed of being poor or of working like that. And nobody ought
to be. But there are boys and girls who when they grow up do not do
what they can to support and help their mother and father and home.
They spend their money in fine clothes and other things. And that is a
big shame when they neglect their needy relatives. It is no shame to be
poor, nor to work, but it is a sin and a shame not to want to work and do
all we can to make our own home nice and comfortable. But Ruth did.
And the old lady was so glad.
And Ruth was obedient when Naomi spoke to her. And that is a
way, and the best way, to keep the Fourth Commandment. Oh, how
many boys and girls when they grow up do not care what father and
mother say. God does not like that. It is sin. And, oh, it will not go
well with us then. For that's what God says, you know.
And because Ruth kept this commandment, God kept His promise.
It went well with Ruth. She married a good, Christian man, and he was
rich, too. And so you see it does go well with us when we remember to
keep the Fourth Commandment.
What Has the Catechism Taught From This Story?
"Honor thy father and thy mother, that it may be well with thee."



When May and Tom's father said they
were going to move to the suburbs the one
thing that made them the happiest was that
they each could have a garden. Tom wanted
a spade and a rake right away, and May asked
for the little watering pot and some cata-
logues of flower seeds.
They talked and dreamed of their flowers.
They hoed and weeded and planted. They
put fertilizer in the earth and watered it.
They thought that their flowers, especially
their rose bushes, would be the finest that

and May are our rose bushes, mamma's and
mine. All your life we have been trying by
all kindness to help you not to grow crooked
and ugly and be hard and disagreeable and
'lopsided.' We planted you in the best soil
we could afford. We have done all we could
to help you to be sweet and true, wise and
happy and kind; to bloom like sweet roses in
the garden of the dear Lord here, and to be
ready to bloom in lovelier beauty in His up-
per garden forever. Tom, you can do this
if you will learn to control that quick, un-
kind temper. Nobody can be more steady
and faithful than you can."


ever grew. They could hardly wait for them
to bloom. When they did, two crying children
went to meet father at tea time.
"Just come see our roses! My buds are all
brown, and when I touch them they fall off,"
said May.
"And mine are green and hard on one
side, and the other opens nice, but they are
so ugly all lopsided," complained Tom.
Papa was very sorry. He had bought good
bushes from a good place, and the children
had done all that love and time and work
-could to only to be disappointed.
"But it isn't my dear rose bush's fault,"
May protested. "It would like to bear pretty
roses, I know it would."
"Mean old thinrr." said Tom, taking a stick
as if to hit his rose bush.
"Wait," said father sternly. "Tom, you

Tom looked up quickly at his roses, and
then looked down again.
"So far we haven't succeeded. May is
sweet and good and makes good promises of
what she means to do, but forgets, and her
kind plans do not get carried through. Her
roses drop off before they open. I believe
that by next month you will find your roses
better if we can find someone who knows
what is wrong with them. The dear Lord
Jesus knows what is wrong with you. He is
the great Gardener, and if you pray to Him,
He will help you bear beautiful blossoms that
will not disappoint Him. Will you?"
A new look had crept into Tom's angry
face, and May was crying. They all bowed
their heads beside the rose bushes while papa
prayed. And after that all the gardens grew


Doylestown, Wis.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
I have seen but one letter from here, so
I will try and write one. I am eleven years
old. We have two miles to church. I go to
Sunday school every Sunday. Rev. A. J. Even-
son is our pastor. We like him very much.
He is also our Sunday school teacher, and
for every one hundred questions we learn in
Explanation he gives us some pretty cards
and a good letter, which of course encourages
us to go ahead in our studies. We have just
had our church painted, which makes it look
nice. We have two miles to public school.
Our teacher's name is Miss Edna Hall. We
like her very much. I belong to a Mission
Band of little girls. Mrs. A. J. Evenson is
the leader. She teaches us to sew and do
fancy-work. I can not go as often as I would
like, as we meet at the parsonage in Rio, which
is about seven miles. Well, perhaps 'my letter
is getting too long, so I will close with best
wishes to the editor and Companion readers.
-Mabel Isabella Johnson.
Thank you for your good wishes, Mabel.
How little of-these pleasures you have in your
churches the poor children of China and Af-
rica have. That's why it is so good a
thing to have a Mission Band.
.* *
Humboldt, Iowa.
Dear Editor and Readers.:-
Since I have not written or heard from
Humboldt before, I thought I would write a
letter. Our preacher is- Rev. L. E. Kleppe.
He is a very nice preacher, and I like him
very much. I am ten years old a'nd am in
the fifth grade in the public school. I have
not been absent or tardy yet. I have not
whispered yet, either. Please excuse me, but
I will have to use the other page. I am in
the Catechism in Sunday school. Our teacher
in Sunday school is Miss Myrtle Nelson, and
our teacher at public school is Miss Mary
Smith. She is a very good 'teacher, too. I
have two big brothers and a dear twin brother,
and I also have a sister working in a law
office. My twin brother's name is Garmond
Eugene Miller. I will close for this time. I
hope my letter jumps the waste basket.
From -Leonell Miller.
Well, Leonell, we're glad to get your let-
ter; but next time you will please use only
one side of the paper. Come again.
Aneta, N. D.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
I have taken The Children's Companion for
three years and I appreciate to read its stories
and letters, as they are all interesting. I go
to public school. I am in seventh grade. My
teacher's name is Miss Caironcross; she is a
very good teacher. The principal's name is
Prof. Fernholz. There are about two hundred

pupils in our school. I also go to Norwegian
Sunday school. I read in the "Forklaring"
and Bible History. My teacher is Mr. Tande.
I like to go to Sunday school. Aneta is a
nice little town. It has electric light and
many street lights, and sewers have just been
put in town for drainage purposes only. There
are five churches in Aneta, the United church,
the Methodist church, Free church, Baptist
church and the Catholic church. There are
mostly cements walks all over town, but there
are also a few wooden ones. We also have
a park with many nice trees in it and flowers
of many kinds. The Great Northern railway
runs through Aneta, and the Midland Con-
tinental will soon run through here. There
are many beautiful residences and streets in
this city. Aneta is in the very southeast cor-
ner of Nelson county. The population is
mostly Norwegian. The last summer, in June,
the young people's convention met here and
many people attended it. I mhst close for
this time, and I hope to see my letter in print.
From -Paul Ovrebo.
Here it is, Paul, and many thanks. What
would you like to see in The Children's Com-
panion during the coming year?
Beloit, Wis.
Dear Editor:-
I have written to the Companion Circle
before, but I thought I w.ouid write again.
The second time I wrote I did not see it in
the paper, but I hope this letter will come
through. I am nine years old now and am
in the fourth grade. I go to- public school
every day and like it very much. Our teach-
er's name is Miss Phoebe Dresser, and I like
her very much. I go to Sunday school and
read in the Catechism and Bible History. Our
Sunday school teacher's name is Miss Ella
Forton. Well, as my letter is getting long, I
will close for this time. Hoping to see my
letter in print, I remain,
Your Companion reader,
-Esther Christianson.
Here it is, Esther. We are sorry to hear
you have missed a letter. We put in all we
get as soon as we can.

Dear Editor:- Lanesboro, Minn.
Dear Editor:--
As I have never written to The Companion
I will write now. I go to public school. I
am in the third grade. My teacher's name is
Miss Bolan. I go to Sunday school also.
My teacher's name is Miss Evenson. I hava
one brother whose name is Robert. As my
letter is getting long I will close.
Your Companion reader,
-Helen Lommen.
Thank you, Helen. Come again.
Lundgren, Minn.,


It was only a little thing for Ne
To brighten the kitchen fire,
To spread the cloth, to draw the
As her mother might desire-
A little thing, but her mother sm
And banished all her care.
And a day 'at was sad
Closed bright and glad,
With a song of praise and pra:
'Twas only a little thing to do
For a sturdy lad like Ned
To groom the horse, to milk the
And bring the wood from the
But his father was glad to find
The chores were all well don
"I am thankful," said he,
"As I can be,
For the gift of such a son."
Only small things, but they brig
Or shadow it with care;
But little things, yet they mold a
For joy or sad despair;
But little things, yet life's best
The reward which labor bring
Comes to him who uses,
And not abuses,
The power of little things.

There is a valley paved with
Whose gate my soul must p
And to dim sight it yet appear
Darkly as through a glass.
But in its gloom faith sees a 1
More glorious than the day
And all its tears are rainbow
When Calvary crowns the vw
Jesus, my Lord, within that v
Thy footsteps still abide;
And can my heart grow faint c
When I have these to guide
Thy track is left upon the sa
To point my way to Thee;
Thine echoes wake the silent 1
To strains of melody.
What though the path be all
What though the way be d
Its shades I traverse not alor
When steps of Thine are n
Thy presence, ere it passed ab
Suffused its desert air;
Thy hand has lit the torch of
And left it burning there.


*_ -_J


(By Mabel Lossing.)
"A're! Ai bap, a're!" followed by unmis-
yer. takable sounds of angry weeping, came from
the big school playground.
Now, when one mother has 130 children,
cow, a number of things must be forbidden, and
shed; wailing aloud was one denied privilege. So
a night the mamma missionary went to the door and
e. called, "Come."
No need to say more, for a dozen little
voices cried, "Dodli! Dodli! You are to go
to the Miss Sahiba."
Ste li, A red-eyed, shame-faced little girl slowly
en the life, walked up to the veranda.
life "Well, Dodli, what has happened?"
"Lillavati said something."
prize. "What did she say?"
z "I don't know, but she said something?"
"How do you know?"
"I saw her lips move and she looked at
me. Boo hoo!"
-Selected. Copious showers again threatened. The
mamma missionary frowned. "You girls have
been quarreling again."
Something worse than raindrops seemed
tears to threaten.
)ass, Small Dodli tried to look pleasant.
s "We were having a little conversation,"
she said evasively.
eight "Indeed! And then?"
; Dodli hesitated. Oh, it was very hard to
-bright always have to tell things just as they were!
ray. It made so much trouble! What was the
ale use of telling what folks did not like to hear?
Indeed, before she came to school her father
r fail had often told her it was impolite to speak
? the truth if it would hurt any one's feelings.
nd Surely the Miss Sahiba would feel badly
if she knew. But, oh my! Things were so
and queer here! The big girls and the teachers
and the mamma Sahiba said to change things
even a little was wrong. And then their
unknown! God said in that big book they called the
rear! Bible that people who told lies would fall into
ne a big lake of fire when they died. That was
ear. worse than being turned into a cat or monkey.
ove, Dodli was not sure that she liked this new
love, "We were just playing with our dolls,"
she began.
Matheson. But, oh dear! The Miss Sahiba's hand


went over to a table where there was a little
peach switch. How did she always know
when you were not going to say things just
straight? Perhaps it would be just as well to
tell the truth this time. No one ever had the
"stick punishment" who did that.
She began again.
"I wanted to see Lillavati's doll so I
opened her box and looked at it." Dodli
hesitated. The Miss Sahiba's hands were
folded in her lap. She did not seem to be
thinking of the stick at all. Perhaps she
would never find out. And how horrid it was
to tell things about yourself that were not
"Then I shut the box-"
"Ouch!" How that stick did hurt! How
did the Miss Sahiba know!
"You know I won't punish you if you tell
the truth," she was saying, "but I must if you
do not."
Again Dodli reflected. The big tears rolled
down her cheeks. Why hadn't she told it
right in the first place! It was harder than
ever now. But there was the stick and the
Miss Sahiba and the great God who knew
everything and was always listening. She
rubbed her little brown fists into her eyes
and began hurriedly:
"I didn't shut the box. I took the doll
out. I would not give it to Lillavati. She
tried to take it and the hair came off in my
hands and then Lillavati said something!"
The mamma Missionary patted the little
black head and smiled. She did not seem
to be very cross. Perhaps she knew how hard
it is to speak the truth when you are a very
little Hindustani girl.
"Run out and tell Lillavati you are sorry
and try to be a good girl after this," was all
she said.
And Dodli ran. Somehow there was such
a happy feeling inside. Just like she had
when she gave Prem half her orange.
"I don't believe telling the truth is such
a bad plan after all," she said to herself as
shh hunted for Lillavati.-Jr. Miss. Friend.


A collector for missions called on a rich
friend for contribution.
"Yes, I must give my mite," said the rich
"Do you mean the widow's mite?" asked
the collector.
"Certainly," was the answer.
"I shall be satisfied with half as much as

she gave," said his friend, smiling. "How much
are you worth?"
"Seventy thousand dollars," was the an-
"Then give me your check for $35,000.00;
that will be half as much as the widow gave;
for she, you know, gave her all."
The rich man looked as one that is
cornered. Stingy people often try to shelter
themselves behind the widow's mite.-Se-

If the skies look dull to you,
Get to work.
If the atmosphere is blue,
Get to work.
Fostering your discontent
Will not pay the landlord's rent,
Will not gain for you a cent-
Get to work.
Brooding doesn't help your cause,
Get to work.
Nothing gained by picking flaws,
Get to work.
Weak are trampled by the strong?
You are victim of man's wrong?
"Stand the storm, it won't be long"-
Get to work.
If success shall come you must
Get to work.
There's no other way but just
Get to work.
It may yield not wealth nor fame,
Much or little, just the game,
If you perish you'll die game-
Get to work.

Tbe thbren'! Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark. Illinois

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-Address all business communications to
Entered at the post office at Minneapolis, Minn., as
second-class matter.


"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."

Vol. XX. Sunday, February 2, 1913. No. 5.

(By Ethel Taylor Crittenden.)

The bell tapped and Vera gave a sigh of
Telief. At last the class period was over, and
the fifteen restless boys whom she had been
trying to interest for half an hour rushed for

school I might have done better. But of one
thing I am sure-I will never try to teach
these boys again."
Wearily Vera mounted the long steps and
took her place in the auditorium. The clos-
ing services were brief, and Vera's resolution
was unchanged as she made her way to the

Parcels Post.

-the steps leading into the auditorium. In
-vain Vera commanded and even threatened,
as Bobby Stern and John Winston came to
blows on the stairway.
"I shall give up my class this very day!"
she said to herself, gathering her class-book
and other stray teaching paraphernalia to-
gether. "I have made a failure, that's all. And
yet, I know I'm not altogether to blame. If
I didn't have the very worst class in Sunday

platform, after the benediction. The super-
intendent glanced up from his desk.
"You had a fine attendance, this morning,
Miss Vera," he began cheerfully.
"Did I? I didn't notice," Vera replied. "To
tell the truth, Mr. Weston, I've decided to
give up my class. I've failed completely as a
Sunday school teacher, and I think someone
else had better take my place."
"I hope you will reconsider, Miss Vera,"


the superintendent said gravely. "It is true
that you have what is generally considered
a 'difficult' age to teach, but boys of twelve
are also very interesting to those who under-
stand them. Has anything in particular hap-
pened to trouble you?"
"No," Vera assented, hesitatingly; "except
that I've found that I am not equal to the
situation. I am sorry to have to give up the
work, Mr. Weston, but I have made a final
"You will keep the class one more Sun-
day, will you not, Miss Vera? I am afraid
it is going to be hard to find another teacher
for the class."
"0, yes, I'll keep it one Sunday more,"
Vera said, "provided someone else takes con-
trol the week after."
"Perhaps you will have changed your mind
by that time," suggested the superintendent.
"I hope I am not so vacillating," Vera re-
plied with dignity. -
There- was an intermission of half an hour
before church services would begin, and Vera
left, hurrying out for a bit of fresh air. Some-
how she did not feel the relief she had ex-
pected, for her conscience seemed suddenly
awake. Why had she given up the class? In
spite of all the arguments she could bring to
bear, Vera knew that, after all, she herself was
the one to blame for her failure in teaching.
True, the boys were restless and mischievous,
but no more so than they had been the year
before, when she had enthusiastically
assumed the position of teacher. Was not
the root of the trouble deeper down, after
Vera was enough of a Puritan to be in-
fluenced by the whisperings of conscience, and
she grew more and more uncomfortable as
the truth forced itself upon her inner con-
sciousness. Why had the boys -been.o .dis-
respectful and troublesome that very morning?
Had there been anything in the teacher to
arrest their wandering thoughts and to keep
their attention?
Vera had to confess that she herself
would not have cared to listen to so bald an
attempt as hers had been to cover ignorance of
the lesson. What would Mr. Weston say if
he knew that the only preparation she had
made for the morning was a hurried glance
at her Sunday school quarterly on her way
to Sunday school?
"No wonder Carter Morris looked out of
the window and Bertie Gray at the ceiling.
And those two used to be the ones who hung
on my every word with breathless interest.
I know I had a. grip on tliose boys last fall,

and now I've lost it. It's all my fault," Vera
went on, and this time without any attempt at
excuse. "I've put off my Sunday school lesson
to the very last; what else can I expect but
indifference from my class? I have failed."
Bitterly Vera recounted to herself the different
interests which she had put before her Bible
"And I haven't any right to say that I
don't know anything about teaching," she
thought; "I've been to more teachers' in-
stitutes than any teacher in the Sunday school,
and I know my class did succeed at one time.
Yes, even when I realized that the boys would
take every particle of tact and love and teach-
ing ability I possessed, the fact only roused
the never-say-die spirit in me. Perhaps it's
not too late-"
"Wait, daughter," called a voice, and Vera
turned as her father came up behind her.
"Here is a letter for you, my dear."
Vera examined the envelope with some
"I don't recognize the handwriting," she
said slowly, as she broke the seal. But a
light came into her eyes when she glanced at
the bottom of the sheet. "Why, it's from
Arthur McRae!" she cried. "He is one of the
boys I had in my Sunday school class last
year, father." Vera's eyes filled with tears as
she read the painfully labored sentences:
Dear Miss Vera:-
I felt as I'd like to write to you and ask
you how is your class getting on? I haven't
ever had a teacher like you, Miss Vera; some-
how you always made things seem so interest-
ing. I wish I hadn't ever had to leave our
Miss Vera, you are one born teacher.
Your scholar,
"A very sweet tribute, daughter," the
father said, after Vera had silently handed him
the letter. "It is worth while to teach a
Sunday school class, isn't it?"
Vera nodded. Her heart was too full for
speech. With the reading of the letter a new
resolve had come to her. "With Thy help,
Master," she prayed.
"I hope you've come to suggest a teacher,"
said Mr. Weston, as Vera approached him a
few moments later. Then his face grew grave,
for he saw the light of a new purpose in the
girl's eyes.
"I have come to offer myself, Mr. Weston,
if you will take me back. I am going to try to
be a teacher from this time on."-Young
People. i J


For some reason or other, Bobby Holman
got up, as his grandmother put it, wholly out
of sorts with himself and the household in
general. His collar was too big-he could
feel it. The window in the breakfast room
wasn't wide enough open. The cakes were
too thick, although Nora had made them
scores of times before-when Bobby had
declared that they tasted so much like more!
Something was the matter with everything,
according to Bobby; nothing was quite to his
"Never mind him; he's all right," said
Uncle Tom, noticing the anxious look on his
sister's face, as she watched her boy get ready
for school. "He isn't sick; it's just a 'spell.'
I guess every boy has them-I know t did."
"But it's unusual-with Bobby,"' declared
Mrs. Holman.
"It's natural, though," assured Doctor
"Well, perhaps so," replied his sister. "But
Bobby's usually so sunny!"
"And he'll be again, soon's the clouds are
gone;" and Uncle Tom looked hurriedly at'
his watch. It was but three minutes before his
,car was due.
"Are you going out -after office hours?"
asked Mrs. Holman, as her brother was leav-
ing the room.
"Yes. And, by the way, I wish you'd te"
Bobby, to meet .me at th. Wilcox Building,
and I'll take him alongg: It's going to be' a
splendid afternoon for a drive."
"Bobby's fortunate, having such an uncle,"
-commented Mrs. Holman, after -Doctor Whit-
ten had left the lihouse. "He has a perfect
understanding of boys. 'I wish I had the
knack of dealing with them that he has. It's
queer, too, 'since he has never had any chil-
.dren of his own." '
"Uncle Tom going"-it was Bobby, who
just then came whistling into the house.
"Yes," interrupted Mrs. Holman. "He left
word -for you to meet him at the Wilcox
Building, and he'd take you for a ride, too.
He'll want .to start in half an hour, so don't
keep him waiting."
"'I won't, mother. Wish you could go!
'Twill be dandy, spinning out along Kilboro
"I'd like to; it's a beautiful drive," replied
Mrs. Holman smiling. "And Uncle Tom is
-splendid company."
"Fine!" exclaimed Bobby. "I'd rather be
with him any time than with the fellows.
He's good deal more fun. Then, too, he al-
ways tells you something that's interesting-
something you like to remember."

"Here-already? Good!" exclaimed Uncle
Tom, as he stopped his runabout in front of
the big granite building on Everett Square.
"I feared you might not be here, as I am a
little bit early. Get in. It's a glorious day
for a spin!"
"Great!" and Bobby took the empty seat
in his uncle's new machine. "Going out along
"Unless you'd prefer some other drive."
"No; that's the best," declared Bobby. "Be-
sides-it's longer than most of the other roads
you take."
Uncle Tom smiled indulgently.
"Going clear to Packard's?" asked Bobby.
"If we have time," replied Uncle Tom.
"I regard that as the prettiest part of the
Bobby coflldn't remember when he'd had
so delightful a spin, or when his uncle had
been so interesting. Several of the anecdotes
he told referred to his own boyhood, which
Bobby declared to be better than "just any-
body's stories."
"By the way," said Uncle Tom, as they
-werte -nearing the end of the drive, "do you
believe in a boy's paying his debts?"
".."Paying his debts? Certainly, I do. I
wouldn't give much for a boy who didn't!"
"Do you-always?"
"I?" and Bobby looked puzzled. "Why,
I-of course I do! What made you ask that,
Uncle Tom?"
; "Becautse I am under .the impression you
don't-not always," and Uncle Tom looked
critically at his nephew.
"I-I don't know-when?" and Bobby had
a questioning expression on his face. "I don't
remember owing anybody."
"Think a minute. Don't you owe some
debts of today's contracting.
"Not that I think of!" Then, after a
moment: "I haven't contracted any debts to-
day, I'm positive."
"Really." .
"Let me see. Sometimes we forget," con-
tinued Uncle Tom.
"This morning," interrupted Doctor Whit-
ten, "when a certain boy came downstairs, his
mother said, 'Good morning, dear,' in her
pleasantest tone, and there was no response
from the son, who ought always to bestow
upon his mother his most gentlemanly atten-

"Then, too, I noticed his grandmother
smiled a greeting, and he never once returned
the smile."


Bobby moved uneasily in his seat.
"When Nora brought in the cakes and
syrup, and set them down beside his plate-
the boy was late in getting to his breakfast-
he never once thanked her for her kindness."
"Why, I never-"

"Yes, I see now that they are. And I see,
also, Uncle Tom, that I have contracted lots
of debts, scores of them, that I have never
paid. But here-hereafter I'll settle every
debt as soon as it's made. I surely will."

A Patient at the Hospital.

"But, Uncle Tom," broke in Bobby, his
face flushed with chagrin, "I never looked
upon these things before as-as debts!"
"But-aren't they? And debts, too, that
ought to be paid at once?"

"I knew you would," smiled Uncle Tom.
"But I wish you had told me before-how
much I was owing folks!" said Bobby, slowly.
"See what a lot of interest I've got to pay!"-
Adelbert F. Caldwell, in Zion's Herald.




The Boy Who Killed His Brother.

How could he do it? For it seems awful to think of such a thing.
He began to hate him. That's the way it started. And that's the
way so many such things get started. He, Cain, went to make an offering
one day to God. He was a farmer and he brought some grain, a bundle
of it, and some other things, perhaps. And he laid them on an altar he
had made. But he didn't care so very much. He didn't stop to thank
God. Maybe he was too busy; anyway, God looked to his heart and He
was displeased. For you know that's the way God does it when we come
to Him. He looks to our heart. He doesn't look so much to see what
we've got in our hand to give Him; but He looks at our heart to see if
we love Him. And because Cain was that kind of a boy, he hated his
brother when he saw that God liked his offering. For Abel, too, brought
an offering. I don't suppose it cost more dollars and cents, but Abel
felt he owed God so much and he thanked God. He remembered God.
And so day after day Cain was thinking about this. He was kind of
dark looking. He would speak harshly sometimes. That hate in his
heart was the cause of it all. And it is a bad thing to carry a grudge, to
want to "pay back,' to "get even." It makes you bad all over. You can't
look right; you can't speak right; you can't act right.
So one day when they were out in the fields alone, Cain took a club and
knocked his brother down. And he died. Oh, what a sorrow that was.
Out of that hate, that grudge in his heart, came the murder. Oh, boys and
girls, look out for what's in your heart. A little thought can become an
awful act.
And poor Cain! I How did he feel now? Did he feel good because
now he "got even?" No, no, poor boy. He felt afraid. He didn't know
where to go. Wherever he went, he thought somebody was after him,
somebody was watching him. No, let us love and forgive and help.
That's the way to be God's man, true and faithful.

What Has the Catechism Taught From This Story?
"Not to hurt or harm our neighbor in his body."


Ft. Dodge, Iowa.
Dear Editor:-
Since I have not written to the Companion
girls before, I will write now. I am twelve
-years old. I go to the public,school and am
in the sixth grade. I have two sisters and
two brothers. I attend the Norwegian Sun-
day school nearly every Sunday. Our minis-
ter's name is Rev. Danielson. Our superin-
tendent's name- is Mr. Freming. I am reading
for the minister this year, and next year I
shall be confirmed. My Sunday school teach-
er's name is Clara Gilbertson. We have Bible
History in our Sunday school and read the
Explanation of Luther's Small Catechism for
the minister. I read in English. There are
seven that read English and eight that read
Norwegian. Since my letter is getting rather
long, I must close, and I hope to see my
letter in print. I remain, as ever,
Your Companion reader,
-Clara Larson.
What words have I put in capital letters
which you omitted, Clara? We're glad to get
your letter.
La Crosse, Wis.
Dear Editor:-
As I have not written to you I will write
now and tell what we are doing. I go to the
Bethel Lutheran Sunday school and like to
go. I read in the "Forklaring" and Bible His-
tory. Miss Noem is my teacher. Rev. Mr.
0. L. Christensen is our pastor. I go to the
Logan school and am in the fifth A grade.
Miss Labenio is our teacher. I am twelve
years old. I have two brothers. Their names
are Raymond and Rangvald. Seeing my let-
ter is getting long, I will close with best re-
gards to the Companion readers.
-Thomas Sletten.
Thank you, Thomas. We should like to
hear more about your Sunday school.
Roland, Ta.
Dear Editor:-
I have not written to the Companion Circle
before. I am eight years old. I go to Sun-
day school when I can. I read in the cate-
chism and Bible History. I go to public
school too. I am in the third grade. There
are 15 children in my grade. I have five sis-
ters and three brothers. In church we are
going to have a Christmas tree and a pro-
gram too. And I am going to take part in it.
I am thankul that my mother and father are
living, and that I know Jesus Christ was once
born. I love Jesus. One of my sisters is
going to be confirmed next. confirmation. All
my brothers are younger than I. I do the
dishes sometimes. I have almost gone once
through the catechism. I like to take long
lessons. As my letter is getting long I will
close. Best wishes to the Companion. Hop-

ing to see my letter in print. Your loving
friend, Olga R. Sheldahl.
Here is your letter in print, Olga. We are
glad to hear from you. It takes quite a while
before we can find place for the letters, as
we often have many on hand. May you al-
ways love the dear Savior and serve Him.
Wish that all the little boys and girls would
like to have long lessons too. Your letter
may help them.
Burbank, S. D.
Dear Editor:-
Our Sunday school commences at io o'clock
a, m. The opening service commences by
singing a song. Next we have Scripture read-
ing and prayer by one of the teachers or
members of the Bible class. After another
song each class takes its place. The Sunday
school classes have places in the church and
the Bible class has a place in the adjoining
room. The secretary then distributes the
class books in which a record of every pupil
is kept. The first Sunday of every month a
collection is taken up in a number of mission
boxes by which we support a Bible woman in
China. The other Sundays we take up col-
lections for the needs of the Sunday school.
In my class we read in the Explanation first.
Then the teacher explains the lesson. After
the explanation we have the Bible History.
The teacher then explains the Bible History
lesson. Our baby class is composed chiefly
of children from 2 to 6 years of age. Its
teacher uses colored pictures as object lessons
from which they are taught Bible stories.
Frequently little prayers or memory gems are
assigned the pupils to learn for the following
Sunday. The other classes are conducted on
the same principle as ours. After the lessons
the teachers distribute the papers, viz: "The
Children's Companion" and "Bernevennen."
We then sing a song and after reading the
Lord's Prayer the school is closed until next
Sunday. A very happy Christmas to you and
all the Companion readers. May God grant
that 1913 will be a bright and prosperous year
to us all. Your Companion reader,
Pearl Aust.
P. S. I forgot to say that our congrega-
tion is the one in which Rev. G. L. Graven
worked so faithfully. The church is located
one-half mile west from his old homestead.
Thank you, Pearl, for your interesting let-
ter. Hope other Sunday schools may get sug-
gestions from the way your school is con-
ducted. The editor well remembers both the
church and pastor you mention, as he 'was at
that time the editor's pastor also. His work
remains a blessing still though the faithful
worker has long since gone to his reward.
"Lives of great men all remind us
We should make our livesvsublime,
And departing leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time."


(By John F. Daniels.)
A very interesting story of a young law-
yer's first case in New York some years ago
is told by the lawyer himself, Mr. Francis
Wellman, in his "Day in Court." He tells
how he came to the city as an apprentice
in the Corporation Counsel's office, and was
given this case because everyone else in the
office was tired of it. Indeed, he suspected
it was given to him so as to discourage him
from remaining in the office at all.
The case was thirty years old, and very
decrepit. It was a suit to recover forty thou-
sand dollars from the city of New York for
injuries done by water to the foundation of
a building on First Avenue in 1854. The
plaintiff claimed that the city had graded a
street near by, and in the grading had changed
a natural water-course on First Avenue, so
that the water, being turned aside, had bur-
rowed under his building, and destroyed it.
Of course, the building had gone before
the case started. Since then, in the natural
course of thirty years in a great city, the
whole neighborhood had changed, the avenue
had been built up in a different way, and all
the former residents had moved out. Only
one witness was left who remembered any-
thing about the occurrences in the case. The
office people had shelved the case, and laughed
at it. It was about as unpromising a thing
as any lawyer could imagine.
But the young lawyer was determined and
enthusiastic, and besides, had nothing -else
to do. The good cases were all given to the
men of longer standing in the city office, so
he had this or nothing. He devoted, accord-
ingly, six long months to the case, working
as earnestly, night and day, as if it were the
most important trial on the calendar. In .those
six months he hunted up thirty witnesses, who
knew more or less about the old watercourse
before the grading. He also made, from the
engineering records, a plan and model of the
locality and the grades. The model showed
the condition of the road and watercourse in
1830. Then, by removing certain blocks, the
grade was shown as it was in 1854, then in
1864, and so on.
Armed thus with the facts in the case,
young Wellman came to the trial of it. The
first two days almost tired out the court, and
the judges wanted to bring it to a close, say-
ing they saw nothing in the city's contention.
But as fact piled on fact, the case began to
appear; at the end of five days the judges

had become certain there was a case; and the-
lawyer on the other side, who had considered
his client's victory sure, was visibly anxious.
The young lawyer was excited and flus-
tered; he was inexperienced, and knew very
little about court work; and if his array of
exhaustive details had not been so thoroughly
prepared, he would have had a hard time, in-
deed. But the case developed itself by sheer
weight of facts; by the sixth day court, jury
and audience were all interested, and by the
end of the tenth day it was impossible to-
resist the cumulated evidence in favor of the
city. The jury brought in a unanimous ver-
dict for the defendant.
The case was the foundation of a good
practice for the industrious and determined
young lawyer.


About the middle of February the St. Louis.
Republic reported the following from Bone-
steel, South Dakota: "Matoluza, or Swift
Bear, is dead. He was 82 years old and his.
funeral was attended by more whites than
Indians. When the white man started his
highways through the heart of the best hunt-
ing grounds of the Sioux, he found no fiercer
foe than Matoluza, and yet he found no.
friend more sincere after the first treaty of
peace was concluded. His neighbors, a colony
of Germans, attended the funeral to pay their
tribute of love, and sang a song in their
native tongue.
"On the afternoon of the day he died this-
venerable Christian Sioux chief called his
family around him and said: 'I have seen my
race in the height of their glory, but in their
submission to a superior race I find their
greatest victory, for with that submission came
the knowledge of eternal life through Christ.
Give heed, my children, to the ways of the
white man and his teachings, for, while his
judgment may at times be faulty, his God is,
our God, the God of all men, and his ideals
are in the skies. Be, then, of the people among
whom your lot is cast; be upright, and you
will compel the respect and honor of the
white man and the red man, for uprightness
knows no race. Now I rest.' At the funeral
service the local teacher in charge said that,
while other Indians of equal rank had gone
down the maelstrom of civilized races, Swift
Bear had ever stood a shining example of
native wisdom and sobriety. 'Friends, before
us lies a Christian gentleman, as pure and'
noble as any of our own color.'."-Luth. St.


0 )Uui)o
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9Z 61 ZI 9Z Z l1 I z1 tZ LI 01 C I OZ :c 9 Ze(] 0c
V9 \ M'go.Oo Iawai isnonv nf / o

0 Grade----. Date Issued 1913 Class No.-
-,E Name________________ _- -

i e C

0 Age B thday
z ---- --Month ODay Year-- >, n
W G-good: F-fair: P poor Days absent Are punched. ,.
-- ^ Card sent quarterly to parents Please sign, and return next Sunday. -
(to .------------_______________ _______
Date 5 12 19 26 2 9 16 23 2 9 16 23 30 6 13 20 27
Lesson O 3
Collection 0

Sunday School Record Cards for 1913.

Printed in two colors (white and buff).

Price, o50 cents per ioo cards.

The card speaks for itself. If a child is
absent a given Sunday, the date may be
crossed, or what is better, the date is punched
by the secretary. This ought to encourage
attendance, as no child likes to have its card
punched if it can be avoided. Three squares
are given for marking lesson, amount of col-
lection and deportment. This should spur
the children to work for as good a record as
possible. There is often an irresistible temp-
tation for the children to spend their pennies
before they arrive at Sunday school, and not
only does the Sunday school lose the money,
but the child practices dishonesty. But if
the child knows that the collection is marked
each Sunday, and that the parents will know
whether the Sunday school gets all the money
or not, the temptation will be almost removed.
The understanding is that the card is sent
quarterly, or even oftener, to the parents for
examination and signature. The card is to
be returned the following Sunday. The teacher
keeps a duplicate card of different color, where
the child's record is transferred. At the end
of the year the child gets its card to keep,
and the teacher's duplicate card is filed in
the Sunday school. Thus a complete record

of the children in the Sunday school can be
kept on file year after year, and any pupil's
card can be found at a moment's glance.
Augsburg Publishing House
Minneapolis, Minn.

Te Cbitbren' Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark, Illinois
Terms of Subscription:
Single Subscription.............................. $ 0.35
25 copies to one address 33 cents per copy...... 8.25
50 copies to one address 30 cents-per copy...... 15.00
100 copies to one address 25 cents per copy...... 25.00
When more than 100 copies are ordered, the number
exceeding 100 copies are charged at 25 cents per copy.
Sent to Canada and foreign countries, 2 numbers every
other week 60 cents.
Sample copies free on application.
Address all business communications to
Entered at the post office at Minneapolis, Minn., as
second-class matter.

"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."

Vol. XX. Sunday, February 9, 1913. No. 6.

(By Margaret Slattery.)

It was a dull, rainy afternoon about four
o'clock that I met him waiting for the car
-at the street corner. "And so you are back
in school again," I said, "and enjoying it, the
.boys tell me."
"Indeed I am," he answered. "Don't I look
it? And I'm getting on, too. I've nearly
made up what I lost last year and I'm going

before and after school and Saturdays to help
out a little. But you can't keep a job down
there at the shop unless you work a certain
number of hours and thought I should have
to give it all up, but then Herman came along
and said he'd work Saturdays for me and
make up the hours. So he is doing it every
Saturday-for nothing, too. He won't take a
cent. He wants me to have a chance to go
to school and says he wo'ild just as soon
work as play. So I go to school and he helps

A Rocky Isle.

to graduate with the rest of them. Then next
year I'll go to business college evenings if I
can't manage high school."
"How did it happen that you could go
back?" I asked, for I remembered the day a
year before when a broken-hearted boy, cap-
tain of the basket-ball team, and popular with
every one, had told me that his father's ill-
ness made it absolutely necessary for him to
leave school.
"Well," he answered, "father is some better,
works 'two or three days a week, and he
thought I might go back if I could work

me on my lessons. Some day, I'll pay him
back, you'll see. He's a pretty good friend,
isn't he?"
"He most certainly is," I answered.
I remembered Herman well. He is a bright,
generous, fun-loving boy. I have always liked
him, but had never supposed him capable of
doing anything like this. All the way home
I thought about it. They were both in
grammar school-one toiling hard early in the
morning, after school each night and all day
Saturday to help his family, forgetting his
own pleasures and desires; and the other giv-


ing up his Saturdays to work steadily and,
hard with no pay except the gratitude of his
chum. Surely it is of such stuff as this that
heroes are made. Other boys were sorry for
Edmund when he left school, sorry when. his
plan to return seemed about to fail. Others
felt sorry but Herman was sorry enough to
think over one plan after another until he
had found a way to translate his sorrow into
It is boys like Herman the world is wait-
ing for-boys who care about "the other
fellow" enough to do something to help him
out. I felt all that week that life was a
hundred times more worth living because on
Saturday those two boys would work away
side by side in the shop, one giving all he
earned to his mother and the other willingly
giving his time just to help.
There is nothing unwilling about Herman's
sacrifice. There is no unwillingness about any
truly great sacrifice. That would rob giving of
all its joy. There would have been no happi-
ness for Herman and certainly none for Ed-
mund had the gift been given with regret.
The best gifts are freely given.
There are some people who give because
they must. Sometimes you hear them say,
"Well, I didn't really want to do it but I
didn't want to refuse. I wish now I had
refused." There is no virtue in that sort of
forced giving. The best and most daring
soldiers in any campaign of war or peace
are the volunteers-those who join in the
task because they want to, whose own souls
tell them they ought to, and who need no
one to "draft" them in. Any gift of money,
time or service given with regret brings only
half a blessing.
One warm summer morning, I stood in the
school corridor, watching the children pass
to their various rooms. A little second-grade
girl came in with her hands full of sweets. She
had been buying candy balls at the corner
store, the large ones six for a cent, the small
ones twelve for a cent. She had eaten some
but still had three large ones and four or five
small ones. As she stopped a moment to
say "Good-morning," I said, just to see what-
she would do, "Which ones are for me?" A
look of astonishment passed over her face
and I saw plainly that she was pained at the
thought of being obliged to give me any.
"May I have the large ones or the small ones?"
I asked.
Then the little thing opened her sticky
hands, with a sigh. There was one large ball
with the chocolate partly rubbed off. When

she saw it she seemed to be able to decide
more easily. "You can have that one," she
said, reaching her hand out slowly and re-
I thanked her heartily and she smiled with
pleasure for a moment as she went on; but
every step or two she turned and looked back
at me half regretfully and her eyes seemed
to say, "It was a nice big candy ball even if
the chocolate was rubbed off."
Poor little thing! I did not need her sticky
candy ball. I did want to begin her training
in giving. But it was not a very successful
beginning for it was an unwilling gift and
she regretted it.
Two or three weeks after that, almost an
hour before school opened, I found Alice wait-
ing at the door for me. After greeting her, I
asked, "Weren't you in school yesterday,
Alice?" "Yes." "Didn't you hear the notice
that no one was to come on to the campus
earlier than fifteen minutes before school?"
"Yes, I did hear it," she said, "but I forgot
it. You see it is my birthday and I couldn't
wait another minute to get here. I brought
you something." And she held out the most
perfect dark red rose I have ever seen. "It
is from my own rose-bush," she said. "It was
a birthday present two years ago and this
is the first rose to open. I wanted you to
have it."
The pleasure and satisfaction of giving
showed in her voice and happiness shone in
her eyes. I looked down into the heart of the
beautiful flower, fragrant and fresh with the
dew still upon it, and knew that I had received
a real gift that meant joy to the giver and so
the deepest satisfaction to me.
It is great to be alive and be able to give
something to somebody, not because you must
or because any one tells you it is your duty,
or because you are ashamed not to; but be-
cause you long with all your heart to make
some burden lighter, to give pleasure, to bring
joy to sad hearts or courage to some one who
is-having a hard time. It is great to give
because you want to put your, strong young
heart and life into something which will really
help. It is great to give because you want to
be a helper. I know of no greater title of
honor that could be given to any one than
that of "The Helper."-The Well-Spring.

Take time to be polite. A gentle "I thank
you," "If you please," "Excuse me," even to,
an inferior, is no compromise of dignity, and
you know that "true politeness is to say the
kindest things in tfhe kindest way."


(By Henry Moore Simpson.)

One day, having occasion to visit the
seventh story of a skyscraper, on business, in
a neighboring city, I was impressed with the
wisdom of the above sentiment by an illustra-
tion not soon to be forgotten.
From the window was seen, at a distance
of about half a mile, one of the largest fur-
niture storehouses, and it was in flames.
The giant structure towered high above
the surrounding houses while immense tongues
of fire shot from its windows and seemed to
reach quite half across the street.
The entire fire department was helpless
to prevent or extinguish the fire. I was after-
ward told that at least three hundred pianos,
which were there for safe keeping, were con-
The solid brick wall of the storehouse
which faced me had painted upon it, in great
black letters, seemingly at least three feet
in height, and which might easily be read
.from any part of the city northward, the
*ords "Fire Proof." No greater sarcasm than
this was ever uttered by human lips.
Some time ago the words were recalled,
when seated in the great assembly room in
the presence of one hundred and twenty-five
manly students at the Bordentown Military
Institute in New Jersey.
The assembly room is ideal. Its artistic
decorations are most striking. Yet nothing
so impressed me as the four words-at the
head of this paper-which were placed, in
letters of gold, upon the wall immediately
above the platform and the desk of Principal
Landon, the head of the institution.
Closer observation impressed me that this
was the keynote of the student life. Manli-
ness, helpfulness, and precision seemed the
habit of all, whether at the morning and even-
ing devotions or upon the parade ground and
under the close inspection of United States
army officers appointed for the purpose.
There seemed a harmony of manner be-
tween the conduct and the military costume
of the young men. Much of human effort is
spent in looking for things. It may be doubted
whether this habit is of great use in preparing
people for future important discoveries. But
whether or not, the rule at this school seems
'to be "A place for everything and everything
in its place."'
Two things seemed clear during the few
days of contact with the daily life of the
school. One was the unity of aim between

the faculty and the boys under instruction.
This recalled to mind the fact that God Him-
self seeks to govern His children by no moral
law other than that by which He governs
The other conviction was that on the part
of both the authorities of the school and those
under authority, there is a trend to make it
easier to do right than to do wrong.
The splendid music of the boys' military
band, and the uniform step of the white-
trousered fellows upon the field, seemed in-
consistent with any other than the truest man-
hood and conditions of self-control and self-
respect. The only outcome of the high senti-
ment of the "Rather be than seem," must be


If we only knew the struggles
Many have, to do what's right,
We would fly swift to their rescue,
In the earnest, noble fight.

If we could but read the pages
Of the hearts around us here,
Where we often utter censure,
We would give strong words of cheer.

Could we only know the heart-aches
Some among us always bear,
We would strive to soothe their sorrows
And their burdens help to bear.

If we realized how heavy
Dread affliction's hand can be,
We would often shed more freely
Tears of loving sympathy.

Could we guess the hidden meaning
That deep mis'ries sometimes hold,
Many an act unjustly mentioned
Would a motive pure unfold.

If we could solve the problem,
Many a life we count but naught
Would be found to sum up grandly,
Found with golden deeds well fraught.

If we'd search more closely,
We could find the Key of Love,
Which would help unlock the secrets
Kindly lent us from above.




The Boy Who Wanted To Keep Clean.

THE Bible tells us about him that "he purposed in his heart that he
would not defile himself." And that means to keep clean. Now,
of course, this boy wanted to keep his clothes, his face and his hands
clean; but here he was thinking of something else. For you know when
God looks to us, He looks not only at those things, but especially at the
thoughts we have, the words we speak, the things we do.
This boy was far away from home, among a strange people. There
were three others with him, three boys from the same country. They had
all been stolen from their homes, yes, lost both father and mother, it seems.
And the people who had taken them from their home were heathen; while
Daniel, for it was he, and his friends believed in God and wanted to do
And so when the men brought in food and drink from the king's
table, Daniel said he'd rather not eat or drink of it. For he knew the king
used to offer his food to the idols, and ask them to bless it. And that was
sin And that food and drink Daniel was afraid of, as it had been offered
to the idol. It would make him unclean, he had been told when a child.
He spoke nicely to the man about it. The man was afraid to think of get-
ting some other food, for the king might get angry. But the man liked
Daniel, too.
And so Daniel and his friends got plain food. And they got along
much better; they were fatter in flesh and looked better than the other
boys. For there were many boys who were being brought up for the king
to work for him. And if we too dare to be a Daniel God will help and
bless us.
What Does the Catechism Teach about This?
In the Sixth Commandment, we learn that we should "be chaste and
pure in words and deed," and that means to be clean.

"Christian children must be holy,
Serving God from day to day;
Never is the time too early
For a Christian to obey."



One cold, clear winter day Benjamin
Franklin spread a number of handkerchiefs
carefully on'a level stretch of snow. One of
the handkerchiefs was black, another white,
and the others of various colors.

handkerchief very little, and under the white
one scarcely any.
By this simple experiment, he learned that
color has a great deal to do with the warmth
of clothing. White sheds the sun's heat al-
most as well as an oilskin sheds water; blue
is nearly as heatproof; green is less so; yel-

I. C.
I..-' -,


Don't Move!

Some time afterward he returned and re-
moved the hankerchiefs carefully one by one,
measuring the depth of snow under each.
Under the black handkerchief he found that
the snow had melted considerably; under a
red handkerchief almost as much; under a blue

low is a warm color; red a still warmer color,
while black soaks up almost all the sun's heat
that strikes it.
Try the experiment before the snow goes,
and you will see why black clothing is out
of place in the summer time, and white in


Aneta, N. D.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
As I enjoy to read letters from other
children, I thought I would write a letter also.
I have four brothers. I go to public school.
My teacher's name is Miss Bertha Lokken. I
am in third grade. I am 8 years old. I go
to the Lutheran Sunday school. My teacher's
name is Miss Ingeborg Fuglaas. I like her
very well. I read in the Bible History and I
learn by heart from the Catechism. My father
is a minister. They are building an addition
to the school house. We had confirmation in
our church Oct. 27. There were 5 boys and 3
girls that were confirmed. We live right be-
side the church, and there are two mountain
ash trees in front of the house; they are very
pretty when they are covered with berries.
As my letter is getting rather long, I must
close my letter.
From your Companion reader,
-Margaret Ovrebo.
Thank you, Margaret, very much. You are
rich in brothers, surely, and we suppose they
take care of their one sister. Come again.
Madelia, Minn.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
Since I don't see any letters from Madelia,
I'll write a few lines. I saw in my Companion
last time that you asked Adolf for the last
thing Jesus said and where it is found. "Father,
into Thy hands I commend My spirit." It
is found in St. Luke, ,23:46. I go to school
every day in the week. I go to public school.
I am in sixth grade. Some Saturdays I read
for the minister, other Saturdays I take my
music lessons. On Sunday I go to Sunday
school. Our pastor is Rev. A. A. Reece. He
is a very good pastor. I am ii years old, and
I'm going to be 12 years old on January the
sixth. Well, as I haven't anything more to
say, I will close and hope to see my letter in
the Companion.
Your Companion Reader,
-Martha Ellingsberg.
And now, Martha, what is the first spoken
word of Jesus we have in the Bible? Tell us
*> *
La Crosse, Wis.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
I go to Sunday school every Sunday. Our
pastor's name is Rev. R. Anderson. Thesuper-
intendent's name is H. Hovind. I like the
Companion very well. I often bring the Nor-
wegian paper out to the Lutheran Hospital
to an old lady that has been in bed for nine
years. My sister and I often go out to see
her. My sister is twelve years old and I am
ten years old. I have two sisters and one
brother younger than I am. I read in the
English Explanation and Bible History. My
teacher's name is Miss Nora Johnson. We

live near Grand Dad's Bluff which is very
beautiful. It certainly is fun to climb on it.
Some of us girls take our lunch and climb
to the top. Wishing all the Companion readers
a happy New Year,
Your Companion reader,
-Cora Erickson.
That's a very good use to make of the
Sunday school paper, Cora. We hope many
of our boys and girls will do the same.
Houston, Minn.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
As 'I have not written to .the Children's
Companion before, I thought I would write
now. I am in the "Katekismus" in Sunday
school. I am ten years of age. My teacher's
name is Miss Grasby. I go to public school
too, and am in the fifth grade, and my teacher's
names are Miss Swenson and Miss Krentz.
Our pastor's name is Rev. B. B. Ostrem, and
our Sunday school superintendent is Mr. G.
Tronson. I have three sisters and one brother.
I like to read The Children's Companion.
From your Companion reader,
-Lauritz Kenneth Onsgard.
Lauritz, how do you spell the name of our
paper without looking? Try, and then com-
Houston, Minn.
Dear Editor:-
As I have not written to the Children's
Companion, I thought I would write now. I
am in the "Katekismus" in Sunday school. I
am ten years old. My teacher's name is Miss
Grasey. I go to public school. I am in the
fourth grade and my teachers' names are Miss
Swenson and Miss Krentz. Our pastor's name
is Rev. B. B. Ostrem, and superintendent is
Mr. G. Tronson. I have five brothers and one
sister. My name is
-George Joseph Skifton.
Thank you, George. We are glad to hear
from Houston.
Hawley, Minn.
Dear Editor:-
As I have not written to the Companion
before, I will write now. I go to the Lutheran
Sunday school. My papa is the pastor here.
We have about eighty-five pupils in our Sun-
day school. My mamma is the superintend-
ent here. We are going to have a Christmas
tree here and we started our program today.
I go to the public school and I am in the third
grade. My teacher's name is Miss Sinclair.
I like her very much. As I have not any more
to say, I will close. I hope to see my letter
in print soon. -Norma Hauge.
We hope you have not gotten impatient
with us, Norma. We have had so many letters.
We would like to hear about your Sunday




In China and Japan much attention is given
the dragon as a mysterious and powerful
creature. It is pictured on Chinese flags, on
coins, etc. But in Korea it is Yong, a fearsome
creation with big eyes, claws and fangs, that
the people worship. In war time Yong is
supposed to be very active, and the Koreans
have been looking for him and at last dis-
covered him, says Dr. Gile.
"A house in the west part of Seoul, that
had in its courtyard an old, rusty, creaking
tree, was sold to a Japanese. The Korean
family was left in charge of it till the Japanese
should move in. One morning the caretaker
and his folks looked out on the world and the
tree, as they had done a hundred times be-
fore, but this morning was different from all
others, for there, looking out of an opening
in the hollow trunk, was a-who would think
it?-yes, no mistake this time, there were the
face and eyes of Yong, the dragon. This, toco
was in accord with tradition, for Yong fre-
quents pools and mountain streams and old
trees. Some friends welie called in, and while
they could not see very clearly, they all agreed
that it was the dragon. They bowed in great
fear before it and women brought rice and
offered sacrifice, but the head had withdrawn
itself and there was only the opening and the
recollection of the uncanny face that. had
looked out upon them. Word went flying
everywhere, 'A dragon was to be seen looking
out of the tree in So-and-So's yard.' Hundreds
of people crowded in.
"'Yes,' said they, 'these are momentous
days, and such a visitation is not to be won-
dered at.' There were tables of food offered
and prayers: 'Oh, Dragon King, we are here
to pray; guard us from catastrophe this year,
and watch over the winds and clouds and
rivers and keep things steady.' They bowed
with their faces to the ground, most devout
and reverent, for Yong, the dragon, was in
the tree!
"News of it reached the Japanese owner,
and he found his yard full of worshippers.
"'Listen,' said the caretaker, 'there is a
dragon in the tree; everybody has seen his
head and the people are now worshipping.'
"In a little while the Japanese came back
with a countryman or two, who had a pair

of field glasses, iron spikes, and a hammer.
They looked at the hole up so high in the
tree, and one of the Japanese began driving
in the spikes. He would climb and find out.
The Koreans begged him not to risk it. 'It
is the dragon,' said they, 'and you will die.'
"'Nonsense,' said the Japanese, 'let me
"Up he went, step by step, making his way
by the spikes, till at last, with a boldness that
paralyzed the onlookers, his hand went in after
the dragon. There was a scrimmage and a
flutter, and out flew an ollpammy-not a
dragon, but an owl! With a disgust inexpress-
ible the rice tables were removed, and the
worshippers went away. Poor Korea's mighty
dragon has turned out an ollpammy, and the
question is, what had they better do about
it?" ________


"I don't see how foreign missions help the
home churches," said Lou Baker, looking up
at her mother. "The preacher said they did,
yesterday, when he was preaching about mis-
sions, you know."
"Do you remember the beautiful bed of
nasturtiums Mrs. Snow and I had last summer,
Lou?" asked her mother.
"Yes. But-"
"But what has that to do with missions?"
replied her mother, smiling. "Let's see. Mrs.
Snow would not cut her flowers, you remem-
ber. Her bed was a perfect blaze of color for
a while. She wanted it to be the finest in
town, and for a short time it was. Then the
vines began to die, though she gave them the
best attention.' Before August there was noth-
ing but dry stems left. The flowers had
bloomed themselves to death, and drawn all
the life from the roots.
"This year she did not plant nasturtiums;
she said they did not pay. My bed bloomed
until frost. I was on the flower committee for
the hospital, and sent great bunches of my
nasturtiums every week to the sick people. I
could not help it; they were so lovely, and
brought so much brightness into the long, bare
wards. I never thought of saving my plants
by giving away my flowers, but so it was."
"So you think, mamma, that the more we
give to foreign missions, the more we have at
home?" asked Lou.
"'There is that scattereth, and yet increas-
eth, and there is that withholdeth more than
is meet, but it tendeth to poverty,'" quoted
Mrs. Baker. "When I saw the joy those
flowers, gleaming like great blotches of red


and yellow sunshine, brought into the days of
those poor sick ones, I loved my flowers more
than ever before, and thanked God more heart-
ily than I had ever done for the beautiful gift
of flowers. They taught me a lesson on foreign
missions."-Mission Journal.


"What do you want here, boy?" said the
keeper of a saloon in San Francisco to a
bright-eyed lad, with a bundle suspended upon
a stick that was thrown across his sturdy
young shoulders. "Why do you come in here
and stare about without asking for anything
to drink?"
"I am not thirsty, sir. I came in to see if,
perchance, my father be here."
"He is not thirsty," laughed one of the
men. "As if people drank brandy only when
they were thirsty. Ha! Ha!"
"Who is your father, boy?"
"John Hopper, if you please, sir."
"Why did you think he was here?"
"Because he must be somewhere in Cali-
fornia, sir; and I'm looking everywhere for
him. And," said the child, hesitatingly,
"father never was a temperance man, even at
home, so I thought I might find him in a
"Where is your home, boy?"
"In Massachusetts, if you please, sir, and
mother is dead now, and I have no home, and
mother said almost the last thing that I had
better come to California and find father and
try to help him to be a good man, so that we
all may meet in Heaven-we have not been
together much here on earth. Father went
away, you see, when I was only two years
"How are you going to know him?" asked
a queer-looking, weazened little man, sitting
at the table, with a glass in his hand.
"I don't know, sir; only my mother has
described him to me so often, and we have
a picture of him, and I am praying so hard
that I may find him, that I am sure I cannot
make a mistake."
"Do you look like your father, child?" asked
a man in a black suit, who sat upon a three-
legged stool, leaning his elbow upon the table.
"No, sir; I am the picture of my mother-"
"So you are my boy, so you are!" inter-
rupted the man, springing to his feet. "Don't
you see that I am your father! I know that
you are my little Harry Steadman Hopper, and
I have your picture and your mother's picture
in my pocket." And the man produced them

to prove his identity to his companions, who
were all upon their feet protesting that the
lad was honest, and that he should not be
fooled by anybody.
"He is not fooling," said the boy; "he
must be my father; there can be no doubt
about it, and I am thankful." And dropping
on his knees, he uttered a sobbing prayer of
The men were all deeply touched, as they
gravely shook hands with the father and son.
"It's a rich man that you are now," said the
weakened Irishman.
"And the lad will help, you to be a Chris-
tian," said the ranchman, removing his broad-
brimmed hat. "My mother was a Christian,
but there has never been a chance for me."
"There is a chance for every one of you,"
said the boy, eagerly. "I know, because you
all have so much kindness stowed away in
your hearts, and were so quick to protect me
when you thought I needed friends. If you
let that kindness show toward every one, for
Jesus' sake, you will be Christians, all of you.
Don't you see how easy it is?"
"I've heard heaps of sermons, but this is
the best one I ever listened to. I am going
home to try to live up to it," said the ranch-
"And so am I!" "And I!" echoed all the
"And Harry shall read the Bible for us,
and pray for us, and teach us," said his father.
So that was the way that one successful mis-
sionary began his life work.-Selected.

Ije Ctuibren'i Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark, Illinois

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"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."

Vol. XX. Sunday, February 16, 1913. No. 7.


Some people are like cows that you have
to coax with a wisp of hay or drive with a
stick. The only thing that will "bring" them
is an appeal to their selfishness or to their
fear. In church work it is either oysters or
The other day we saw a coal-driver urging

Oh for souls that love something! Some-
thing besides themselves and their own small
temporal interests! Souls that take the initia-
tive! Souls that are impelled by a desire to
serve-to do good! Souls that are self-
propelled! Souls that you cannot discourage!
That you do not have to send for, that you
do not have to watch, that will "see a thing
through," that inspire others, that are foun-

Not Far From Northfield, Minn.

his mules up a hill. As long as he kept
saying "Get up" and cracking his whip they
kept moving-with their ears turned back and
their tails twitching. But when he said
"Whoa!" he only had to say it once, and not
in a very loud voice either. It reminded us,-
well it reminded us.

tains of encouragement, that do things with-
out even waiting to say "Yes"!
Give us such as these in our churches,"our
Sunday school, our Ladies' Aids, our Mis-
sionary Societies, our Church Councils, our
choirs! Then the world will 'be ours, and
life will be a joyi-Luth Companion.


(By Hattie Lummis Smith.)

Grandmother sat in her low rocking-
chair, knitting busily. The afternoon sun-
beams fell lightly upon the placid old face,
with its crown of silver hair, and made al-
together a very pretty picture, though grand-
mother never suspected it. And Nettie, who
was reading in the window-seat, half-hidden
by the hanging draperies, never noticed it
Suddenly there came a swift patter of feet
in the hall, and the next moment little Elsie
Halford, herself the brightest of summer sun-
beams, danced into the room. Her round,
dimpled face was beaming with smiles, and
her sweet voice thrilled with a note of exult-
ant gladness.
"Grandma! Grandma Foster!" she cried.
"Do you know what lovely thing is going to
"Why, no, dear!" answered the old lady,
who was "Grandma" to all the children in
the neighborhood. "I don't believe I've heard
a word about it."
"Tomorrow's my birthday!" said the little
creature, drawing herself up with a delightful
air of dignity. "And I'm going to be seven
years old!"
As grandmother's face indicated that she
was sufficiently impressed by this announce-
ment, Miss Elsie continued, "And I s'pose I
shall have lots of presents. I think birthdays
are lovely! Don't you ever have a birthday,
"If I live till the fourth of next month I
shall be seventy years old," said grandmother,
slowly. "But after all, dear," she added with
a little sigh, "when you get to be as old as I
am you'll find your birthdays don't amount to
Now that sigh, faint as it was, reached
Nettie's ears, and startled her. Why did that
momentary shadow rest on grandmother's face?
Dear grandmother, every, day of whose life
was a blessing, whose very presence was a
benediction, how could she feel that her birth-
days were events of unimportance?
Nettie's book slipped from her hand.
Whether the fair heroine regained her lover
or died of a broken heart, became for the
moment a matter of supreme indifference.
Even little Elsie's chatter fell unheeded on
Nettie's ears as she sat with perplexed face,
nervously tying knots in the fringe of the
curtain. Suddenly her face brightened, and
she clapped her hands noiselessly, in token of

approval. "I'll do it," she said, with a. decided!
little nod, "if the rest will help."
The rest of the family, to whom the plan-
was confined, voted the idea an excellent one,
and were ready with their co-operation. A
great deal of plotting went on in that house-
hold for the next few weeks, though grand-
mother, the innocent subject of it all, never
suspected it. If, indeed, she noticed that Net-
tie was busier than usual, or that Ned had
many mysterious communications to whisper
in his mother's ear, she never dreamed that
she herself was the cause of all this subduecL
When the sun woke her on her birthday
morning the first thing that caught grand-
mother's eye was a bright bouquet of flowers.
on a little stand by the bed. She put on her
glasses and looked again.
"I declare," she exclaimed, after a moment's.
reflection, "it's my birthday, isn't it? Now I
wonder who of them thought of that?" And;
grandmother tenderly patted the fragrant
blossoms, which in their own sweet fashiorm
had been first to offer their congratulations.
Down stairs new surprises awaited her.-
The family had gathered in the sitting-room,
and on her entrance they clustered around her,
and kissed her with an affectionate warmth
that almost bewildered the old lady, for the-
Fosters were not a demonstrative family. Then;
Ned seized her hand.
"Come on!" he exclaimed; "there's some-
thing in the dining-room."
"Sh!" said Nettie warningly, while grand-
mother's cheeks flushed like a girl's. They
went together into an adjoining room. There-
stood a large arm-chair, of particularly in-
viting appearance, Mr. Foster's gift to his-
mother. Over one arm was gracefully draped
a. fleecy worsted shawl. Nettie had been
crocheting it for herself, but had concluded
to finish it for grandmother's birthday, know-
ing it would be more acceptable than any
present she could buy. To the corner was.
pinned this verse:
When summer has fled, and the leaves are-
And frozen is the river;
In tempest and storm, may this shawl be-
As the fond heart of the giver.
A work-box of white holly was Ned's offer-
ing. It was lined with bright-colored silk andl
contained the following poetic sentiment:
This was made by little Ned,
When you thought he was in bed;


But his jig-saw buzzed and flew
Till it made this box for you.

"And I 'most made the poetry myself," Ned.
,exclaimed proudly. "Mamma helped me a
little, 'cause some of the lines were too long
and some too short, but I did it 'most all."
Mrs. Foster's gift was a dainty lace cap.
As grandmother's eyes were troubling her un-
accountably this morning, Nettie herself was
'obliged to read the verse attached:

This pretty cap that I have made,
With ribbons of most becoming shade,
Would charm the soul of a poet;
But no contrivance of silk or lace,
Is half so sweet as the dear, dear face
That smiles at us below it.

Grandmother gathered up the slips of paper
with trembling fingers. Perhaps her literary
taste was not the best, but I imagine she
prized these simple rhymes more than she
would have done the sublimest sentiments of
illustrious reflections on love and duty.
"Well, mother," said Mr. Foster, when
breakfast was over, "will you be ready to
take a little drive with me, along about eleven
Grandmother looked up nervously. Mr.
Foster, though what is known as "a model
-son," was a very busy man and seldom found
time for this sort of polite attention.
"Of course I'd love to go, Edward," she
answered, a tremor in her voice, "but are you
sure you can take the time from your busi-
"It would be queer if I couldn't today,"
said Mr. Foster, thinking he really must be
more particular about this sort of thing since,
woman-like, his mother prized it so highly.
Nettie had confined her plot to Nora as
well as to the rest of the household, and din-
ner that day was a great success, with all of
grandmother's favorite dishes.
"Don't you think, mother," said Mrs. Fos-
ter, at the conclusion of the meal, "that you
had better lie down a little now, so as not
to get too tired?"
"I don't feel a bit tired," answered grand-
mother cheerfully, "but perhaps it would be
better for me to take a little nap after all this
"We won't let you sleep too long," prom-
ised Nettie, a mischievous laugh in her eyes.
And she was as good as her word, for prompt-
ly at three she made her appearance announc-

"Wake up, grandma dear. There's company
"Company! Well, what will happen next,
I wonder," said grandmother, helplessly yield.
ing herself into Nettie's deft hands. After
her hair was combed in the most becoming
fashion, and the new cap was properly adjust-
ed, she wonderingly followed her grand-
daughter downstairs.
The front parlor was filled with people.
There was old Mrs. Griffin who lived in the
country, and was so lame that she rarely left
home, seated in a comfortable chair, and beam-
ing her satisfaction. There was little Miss
Wells-who had been wealthy years before,
but now in her old age found a house at the
alms-house-dressed in a worn silk, and look-
ing fairly pretty in her flush of unusual happi-
ness. In fact, for miles around the old ladies
who were grandmother's friends, and some of
whom had known her in her girlhood, had
been gathered to offer their congratulations
on her birthday.
All through the long, bright afternoon-
for the sun entered into the spirit of the
thing and shone with unusual brilliancy-the
dear old ladies laughed and chatted and talked
of old times, while Nettie fluttered in and out
of the parlors like a distracted butterfly, paus-
ing now and then to whisper to her mother:
"Aren't they enjoying themselves, mamma?
Isn't it a perfect success?"
At six o'clock the daintiest of teas was
served, and everybody received a box con-
taining a slice of the birthday cake. Then,
as most of the guests lived at a distance, the
little party broke up, grandmother standing
at the window and waving her handkerchief
till the last carriage rolled out of sight.
"Have you had a pleasant day, grand-
ma?" asked Nettie that night as she came to
her grandmother's side to press a tenderer
kiss than usual upon the dear, wrinkled cheek.
"Pleasant, my dear!" Grandmother could
say no more. She hid her face on Nettie's
shoulder, with a little burst of happy tears.
And Nettie, as she went upstairs, resolved
that of all the festive days in the year none
hereafter should be more carefully observed
than grandmother's birthday.-Advance.

We need not be afraid that we shall go too
far in serving others. There is no danger that
any of us will ever go too far in the walk of
active love, or become too bountiful, too kind,
too helpful to his neighbor.-J. C. Hare.




The Young Man Who Stole.

HIS name was Absalom. He had a good father, King David. And
what he stole was not money or clothes or any thing to eat. It was
something it may seem strange to you to hear we can steal. The Bible
tells us Absalom "stole the hearts of the men of Israel" from his father.
Whom should the people in that country love? To whom did their
love, their hearts, belong? Surely, to the good King David. That's what
that means. For when God says to us, "My son, give me thine heart," He
means, "Love Me, obey Me." And so the people did love David, the king,
and obey him. But Absalom wanted to be king; he wanted the people to
love him. And so he began to meet the people and talk with them. He
would say, "If only I were king, it would be much better than it is now."
And he acted so very friendly to them, although he really didn't mean it.
But the people thought he did. They began to give him their love. And
so he stole their hearts.
But he didn't keep them long. It never pays to steal. God will
punish us, for He sees us. And now do we steal? Have we ever taken or
gotten hold of anything that didn't belong to us? Let us pay back, or
own up now.
We can steal money or other things. We can steal from our father and
mother, too. We can steal their strength, when we make them work
harder than they need to and we do not help them. We can steal their
happiness when we do wrong and make them sorry. We can steal from
God, and do, when we do not let Him have the love and obedience of our
hearts; and when we use all our mony for ourselves and have nothing to
help the work of the Church, of the missions, of the poor. Let us steal
no more.
What Does the Catechism Teach about This?
"Thou shalt not steal."

"We lose what on ourselves we spend:
We have as treasure without end
Whatever, Lord, to Thee we lend,
Who givest all!"


On a Claim.

i I


Sioux Valley, S. D.
Dear Editor:-
SAs I have not written to the Companion
before, I think I will write now. I am 15
years old and in the fifth grade. I am the 6th
of io children in our family. My teacher's
name is Kathrine Collins. I am going to
.start in the Confirmation class this winter. The
English class meets at 10 and the Norwegian
-on Saturdays. We have a very good choir in '
our church here. In our choir is a very good
tenor singer. I will belong to the choir, too,
-when I develop. I think going to Sunday
school is one of the best things for a young
person to do. It gives them religious train-
ing and makes them better. I think I will
be a missionary when I grow up. Our min-
ister said the president's work was not
.as great as to be a missionary. My father
*works in a cough drop factory in Sioux Falls.
Hoping to see my typewriter letter printed,
I remain Your Companion reader,
-Torvald Marden.
What word have I changed in your letter
that is pronounced the same as the word I
put in? Yes, Torvald, that's good, aim at
.being a missionary. You can begin right away.
*, *
Hawley, Minn.
iDear Editor:-
As I have not written to the Children's
Companion before, I thought I would write
-now. I am nine years old. My mother died
when I was three months old. And I have
two sisters. Their names are Evangeline, ii
.years old, and Esther 13 years old. And we
have been staying with Grandpa ever since.
I am in the fifth grade. My teacher's name
-is Miss Koefod. I go to the Lutheran Sunday
school. My teacher's name is Hilda Amunds-
-guard. Our pastor's name is Rev. S. G. Hauge.
As my letter is getting rather long, I will
.close with best wishes to the Companion
-readers. Hoping to see my letter in print,
Your Companion reader,
-Olga Johnson.
Thank you, Olga. Did you know you
-spelled Pastor differently? What does paster.
mean? Come again.
Graettinger, Iowa.
Dear Editor:-
I have never written to the Companion
before but will try now. I am io years old,
and I go to the country school, am in the
fourth grade. I go to Sunday school, am in
-the Explanation. My Sunday school teacher's
name is Miss Bergum. I like her real well.
I have two brothers and two sisters. Our
pastor's name is Rev. S. 0. Saude. He is a
:good preacher. We like him very much. Will

close with best wishes to the Editor and Com-
panion readers, hoping to see my letter in
print. From your Companion reader,
-Carrie Olson.
Thank you for your good wishes, Carrie.
You help us, too, when you write.
Merrill, Wis.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
I thought I would write a letter to the
Companion Circle. I have found the verse,
"This is My beloved Son, in whom I am
well pleased," in Matt. the seventeenth chapter,
the fifth verse. I will now appoint Mildred
Grey of Hettinger, N. D., to find this verse,
"Whosoever cometh to Me, and heareth My
sayings, and doeth them, I will shew you to
whom he is like." I hope she will appoint
some one else. I was confirmed July 7th.
Our pastor's name is Rev. Ramseth. He is
going to leave us in March. He is a very
good minister. We have a Bible Class,' to
which I belong. We have "Vaarblomst" every
two weeks. We have sales and make quite a
bit of money. When we get a large sum,
we send it to the Orphan's Home. I will
now close with best wishes,
-Anna Larson.
Do you know, Anna, those words you found
in Matt. 17:5 are found also in another place
in Matthew? And now Mildred will please
search and tell us where the new verse is
Minneapolis, Minn.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
As I have not written to the Companion
before, I will write one now. I go to the
Norwegian Lutheran Sunday school, and read
in the English Catechism and Bible History.
We have about eight boys in our class but
now we only have five, because some went in
the Confirmation class. Our Sunday school
has an attendance of about one hundred and
eighty, and getting more every year. Mr.
Mickelson is our teacher and Mr. Gudal is our
superintendent and Rev. 0. H. Sletten is our
pastor. They are all very good to us. On
Dec. 25 is Christmas, and I am very glad
because we have two Christmas trees and we
also get presents from the teachers. We don't
have any school for two weeks. I have four
sisters and no brothers, and I have a sister
married about two weeks ago, and I have two
dead. As my letter is getting rather long,
I will close with best regard to the Editor and
Companion readers, and hope to see my letter
in print. -Edwin Thompson.
Thank you for your kind greeting, Edwin.
Come again.




Dear Margaret and Sidney and Roger, and
all the rest of the readers who have begun to
study geography, take your maps and find a
country called Thibet. Look for it in the
Chinese empire, north of a great range of
mountains. One of its peaks is the highest in
the world. See if you can write its name, and
you can remember that it is near Thibet.
While our missionaries can go into nearly
every other country on the globe, they have
never been allowed to live in this one, and
so its people know nothing of our Savior.
But a better day is coming, and we hope it
will not be many years before it will cease to
be called "The Forbidden Land."
It is a queer country, and the Record of
Christian Work tells us of some of its cus-
toms which seem funny enough to us.
Read this story and you will be very thank-
ful that God has given you a home in this
dear free land of ours:-
"People in Thibet have such odd houses.
There are no windows, only a hole in the roof
to let out the smoke and let in a little light.
As the people never wash, of course, they are
unspeakably dirty. We can hardly blame them,
however, for not washing in the winter. For
six months of the year it is so cold that every-
thing freezes solid; even the people have all
they can do to keep from freezing, too, so
they stay in the house all winter. The mother
goes to the door twice a day, and calls the
yak-a kind of goat-to come to be milked,
but the rest stay as close to the fire as they
can. You will think the father is pretty lazy
not to do this work and let his wife stay in,
but he thinks she was made for work, and he
prefers to stay indoors and eat and smoke and
spin. Yes, he spins, and the boys and girls
spin, too-all but the babies!
"There is no furniture in the house except
the ka'ang and a few wooden dishes and
spoons. Each person carries his own cup in
the folds of his gown. These cups are usually
of wood, but sometimes of gold or silver orna-
mented with precious stones. The people
drink tea which is mixed with butter and meal
and then boiled. For food they have barley
flour balls fried in lard, cheese, and sometimes
potatoes, and even eggs and fowls if they can
afford them. Usually there is little meat eaten,
as it is too expensive.

"The snow in winter is sometimes twelve
feet deep, so that the houses are often com-
pletely buried. No wonder the people don't
go out. They may put on as many clothes as
they can get on, and yet have their noses
freeze. The horses have to be wrapped in
heavy felt blankets, and their heads are. pro-
tected with fur. Did you ever before hear of
horses wearing furs? The yaks are sometimes
so loaded with icicles that they rattle together
as they walk.
"The women do not wear veils, as in many
Eastern countries, but they plaster a dirty
brown mixture over their faces. Some think
this is to hide their beauty from men, and some
think it is to protect them from the cold. If
they want to hide their beauty they certainly
succeed well. Instead of bathing, the people
smear themselves with butter or grease. This
helps to keep the skin from cracking with the
cold, but the odor from it does not improve
the air of the house.
"The parents are fond of their children.
The boys belong to the father and the girls
to the mother. Two or three days after a
baby is born, the friends of the family come
in to rejoice over it. They bring a kind of
beer to drink, called chang, and three 'scarfs
of blessing,' one for each of the parents, and
one which they tie about the child. Then
they drink and have a merry time. The
children are taught good manners, which
means that they must stick out their tongue
for greeting. If they want to be very polite
they must uncover the head, scratch the right
ear and stick out the tongue at the same time.
"Every one in Thibet wears a charm to
keep off all evil. These. charms are usually a
piece of old rag or something supposed to
have belonged to some saint. If a person is ill,
he is never allowed to sleep, as that would
mean sure death, so friends keep up a contin-
ual clatter and noise. Sometimes the sick one
is made to eat some of the leaves from a
Buddhist book, and one sick man, who had
heard of the Christian religion, was much dis-
appointed because he wasn't cured by eating
several leaves from a Bible.
"The men and women and even the babies
wear a great deal of jewelry. Gold and silver
and precious stones are found in Thibet, so
that even the poor people will sometimes have
very valuable jewels and ornaments. It is
rather a contrast to see a dirty, unkempt-look-
ing woman with fingers, head, and neck loaded
with jewelry.
"The queerest thing of all about these peo-
ple is the way they say their prayers."-Sel.



When I was a little boy. I remember, one
cold winter's morning, I was accosted by a
smiling man with an axe on his shoulder.
"My pretty boy," said he, "has your father a
grindstone?" "Yes, sir," said I. "You are a
fine little fellow," said he; "will you let me
grind my axe on it?" Pleasted with the
-compliment of "fine little fellow," "Oh, yes,
sir," I answered, "it is down in the shop."
"And will you, my man," said he, patting me
on the head, "get me a little hot water?"
How could I refuse? I ran, and soon brought
a kettleful. "How old are you? and what's
your name?" continued he, without waiting
for a reply: "1 am sure you are one of the
finest lads that ever I have seen: will you
just turn a few minutes for me?"
Tickled with the flattery, like a little fool,
I went to work, and bitterly did I rue the
day. It was a new axe, and I toiled and tugged
till I was almost tired to death. The school-
bell rang, and I could not get away; my hands
were blistered, and the axe was not half
ground. At last, however, it was sharpened;
and the man turned to me with, "Now, you
little rascal, you've played truant: scud to the
school, or you'll rue it!" "Alas!" thought I,
"it is hard enough to turn a grindstone this
cold day; but now to be called a little rascal
is too much."
It sank deep in my mind; and often have
I thought of it since. When I see a mer-
chant overpolite to his customers,-begging
them to take a little brandy, and throwing his
goods on the counter,-thinks I, That man
has an axe to grind. When 1 see a man flat-
tering the people, making great professions of
attachment to liberty, who is in private life a
tyrant, mnethinks, Look out, good people! that
fellow would set you turning grindstones.
W\Vhen 1 see a man hoisted into office by party
spirit, without a single qualification to render
him either respectable or useful,-alas! me-
thinks, Deluded people, you are doomed for
.a season to turn the grindstone for a booby.


God is in heaven. Can Hie hear
A feeble prayer like mine?
Yes, little child, thou needst not fear;
He listened to thine.

God is in heaven. Can He see
When I am doing wrong?
Yes. that Hie can, He looks at tlhee,
All day and all night 'long.

In His Service. A talk to the confirmed by
Rev. G. T. Cooperrider, A.M. Published by
Lutheran Book Concern, Columbus, 0., and
can be ordered at the Augsburg Publishing
House. 50 pages; single copy 29c; per dozen
This confirmation booklet of 50 pages with
a certificate for confirmation has two good
advantages. It is printed in large, clear type
and in a clear style, rather brief, but covers
much ground. It makes easy reading for
young people and may well be considered by
our pastors in making their choice among
booklets for confirmation.

Beautiful Feet.

"What ugly feet!" said one little girl oi
another of her own age, who was just then
passing the window.
"I think that Caroline has the most beau-
tiful feet of any girl in town," said the girl's
"0 mother, how can you say so? Just look
at the big, horrid things."
'Beautiful feet are those that go
Swiftly to lighten another's woe
Through summer's heat and winter's snow.'

"Now Caroline's feet are carrying her on a
kind errand. Sometimes it is to read to poor
old blind Peggie; sometimes to invite children
to the Sunday school; often to save her
mother some tiresome steps. I. think that
Jesus must think her feet beautiful for he
says, 'How beautiful are the feet of them that
bring glad tidings!' "-Olive Plants.

Tbe Ctbilbretn' Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark, Illinois

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"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."

Vol. XX. Sunday, February 23, 1913. No. 8.

(By Edward L. Whitney.)

When a young man is studying medicine in
America he is required, as part of his course,
to learn about drugs and the more important
medicinal plants. But, as has been observed,
ihis knowledge is very superficial as compared
to, say, that of a bushman in the Kalahari

were good to live on-and learned, by this
simple process, a great many necessary bo-
tanical facts. In those early days of the race
there was a sound, well-grounded knowledge
of roots, bulbs and fruits. Some were good
to eat at all times, some were unwholesome,
but still could be eaten in time of starvation,
and some were poisonous or too medicinal
for food.

A Summer Vacation.

Desert of South Africa. Every man, woman
and child in a savage tribe in that desert
district could pass an examination on medi-
cinal. magic and poisonous plants, and in
fact on any kind of plant that grows there-
abouts. For, in times of famine, every plant
has been tried in the most intimate way-
by eating it-and its possibilities have been
learned by heart, or rather by stomach.
Primitive man, wherever he went, and what-
ever plants he met, tried them all in the same
way-by eating them to see whether they

G. F. Scott Elliot, in his interesting book
on plant life, tells how medicine grew out of
experiments with plant-eating. The active
men of the tribe were usually too hard at
work hunting and fighting to try any experi-
ments with their food. It was left to some
elderly or disabled man and to the older
women to make concoctions of herbs and use
new combinations as food. When these men
or women became very skillful, they put on
mysterious airs, and made themselves re-
spected and feared. They were called "med-


icine men" and "witches" and they made bo-
tanical excursions, accompanied by their pu-
pils, to whom they taught their plant lore. The
modern professor of botany, taking out a class
of students into the woods and fields, is really
only following the prehistoric customs of the
Those early botanists were not humbugs.
either. They were very important and valu-
able people to their tribe. A tribe that had
a medicine man that knew how to check fe-
vers by a decoction of tree bark would soon
be ahead of its fever-stricken neighbors. A
witch woman who could cure the chief after
he had eaten more than he could digest, or
after he had been poisoned by an enemy, was
a personage to be honored in the tribal coun-
cils. So ambitious men and women went into
the business, and discovered all kinds of val-
uable medicinal plants that the civilized world
is still using. The only trouble was that they
came to pretend to much more than they
knew. Like all doctors, they did not always
cure; and as their savage patients might re-
volt or seek revenge, the medicine-makers
surrounded themselves by horrible and unusual
things-skeletons, mummied things, the heads
of snakes or crocodiles, poisonous plants, and
so forth. They created around themselves an
atmosphere of superstitious fear. Their pa-
tients believed they could give diseases as well
as cure them, and so trembled before them.
Into their prescriptions they put all sorts
of wonderful and dreadful ingredients, such
as the brain of a toad, the whiskers-of a
tiger or the gall of a crocodile. Of course,
neither they nor anyone else knew just what
each of these might be worth, either in mind
cure by suggestion, or- in actual properties.
The modern .pharmaceutist, who gets pepsin
from the stomach of the pig, and vaccine from
the calf--not to mention the snake venom
used in certain scientific remedies-cannot
laugh at these early stages of his craft.
Who among our modern doctors is as
great a benefactor as the unknown Indian
medicine man who discovered quinine? Prob-
ably the tribal doctors had sampled almost
every part of every wild tree in the Peruvian
forests before one of them found that the
bark of Calisaya Cinchona would cure fever.
The tree produces it, so naturalists think, to
prevent fungus or small insects from attack-
ing the bark, and when taken by man, it kills
the fever germs in the blood corpuscles,
when nothing else known to medicine can
reach them. The Indians of Peru and Bolivia
learned to rely on it, and when the Jesuit

fathers reached Peru, the converts they made
taught them this great medicinal secret. When
the Countess de Chinchon, wife of the Span-
ish Viceroy of Peru, fell ,desperately ill of
the fever, she was cured with the magic bark,
and in her honor it was named cinchona. In
1638 it was introduced into Europe, and by
1859 it was almost unobtainable, for nearly
every tree had been cut down to supply the
demand. The cinchona only grew on the
mountains of northeastern Peru and south-
eastern Bolivia, in wild, inaccessible places,
at five or six thousand feet of elevation. If
an enterprising Englishman, in 1859, had not
succeeded in establishing cinchona plantations
in Madras, Bombay and Ceylon, the world
would now be practically without this most
precious of all plant medicines.
Ipecacuanha was discovered by an Indian
medicine man in the Brazilian forests. A
French merchant bought a little of it in trad-
ing with the Indians. While in Paris, he be-
came very ill, and the good doctor Helvetius
cured him. In his gratitude, the merchant
gave him some of the wonderful new Brazilian
drug. Not long afterwards one of the sons
of Louis the Fourteenth fell ill of dysentery.
Helvetius was called in, tried his new-world
remedy, cured the lad; and received one thou-
sand gold louis d'or, besides becoming famous.
Castor oil is one of the very oldest plant
discoveries. The Indians used it before the
dawn of history. Herodotus tells about it.
under the name of Kiki. The ancient Egyp-
tians not only used it as a favorite drug, but
buried the seeds of it with their mummies,
so as to provide the soul with medicine on
its travels. Hemp and opium have been
known to the Eastern peoples as narcotics and
poisons since the beginning of things, and
modern medicine finds them both valuable
remedies, though to be used with the strictest
The witch doctor knows poisons as well
as cures. It is likely that at first poisons
were used for fishing. Many vegetable drugs,
when thrown into pools and lakes, will stupefy
the fish, which can then be gathered in nets
and baskets and eaten without danger. The
Dyaks of Borneo use the root of the tubai,
the Tahitians use the betonica nut, and in
West Africa the seeds of tephrosia vogelii
are the fashionable fish poison. After catching
fish, poison was next used by savage experi-
menters upon wild beasts, and then in war-
fare. The Upas poison of Borneo used on
the Dyak arrows will kill in two hours' time.
The Caribs of the West Indies discovered the


Manchineel poison, which kills in agony after
twenty-four hours. The Otomaks of South
America used the Curare or Woorali poison,
a kind of strychnine.
All the early medicine-makers had magic
drugs, secret compounds wrapped in super-
stitious mystery. The Obi wizards in West
Africa have always relied upon the datura.
It produces, in varying doses, stupefaction,
frantic delirium or death, and in African devil-
worship it holds an important place. The
ancient Peruvians used it to produce their
inspired ravings. The priests of Apollo at
Delphi had an herb of a kindred species
which the Pythoness took, and which was
supposed to give her the power of prophecy.
The superstitious blacks in our own southern
states, and in the West Indies, use prepara-
tions of datura in incantations and the weird
rites of Obi-worship.
Bane and antidote, charms against danger
and disease, magic and safeguard, have all been
sought in forest, field and swamp by the med-
icine man, the wizard and the witch. In their
ignorant searching, they have laid the founda-
tion of much of the best modern pharmaco-
pxeia. So, though we may smile at their mys-
teries and cruelties, we must own a real debt
to the savage medicine-makers of the past.-
The Well-Spring.


Boy was in a very serious frame of mind;
in fact, he was quite gloomy and dejected.
To be sure, his side hadn't won the cricket
match, but that was scarcely enough to ac-
count for his present state of feeling. He
had lost before, and usually with pretty good
grace. But today no sympathy appealed to
him, no cheerful encouragement won so much
as a shadow of a smile: The hopeful, merry,
happy Boy had entirely disappeared.
Mother, whose experience with boys had
warned her of occasions when it was a case
-of "do-better-do-nothiing-at-all," as Hans says
in the Grimm story, waited for the situation
to develop, and at last the silence was broken.
:Slowly, seriously, solemnly, Boy said it:
"Mother, God was on the side of the bad
boys, and they won. You see, we fellows
thought we would try awfully hard and not
get mad or cheat or say bad words. And not
one fellow did. And the other fellows did-
like fury. I guess they swore. And they
won and we were licked. God was on their
:side all right, and it's not fair."

Ordinary comfort and explanation availed
nothing. T'h.e fact remained. The faithful
little band that had tried to do right had been
beaten by -the rough little crowd that didn't
care anything at all about it. God was on the
side of might-not right. This was self-evident,
and did not admit of explanation; and who
wants comfort for injustice? Not Boy. After
awhile father came in, and before Boy saw
him, mother had presented the case.
He thought carefully a moment. Then his
cheerful voice was heard.
"Well, my boy, I hear you won out today."
"Well, then," in a voice of awful solemnity,
"you heard wrong, 'cause we didn't; we were
"Oh! but I heard that there were two con-
tests; which did you win?"
S"Why, I don't know what you mean,
"Mother told me about it. She told me
you lost the match, but you won the big im-
portant thing; you didn't beat the other fel-
lows, but you beat yourselves, and conquered
all the anger and unfairness and bad language.
Congratulations, old fellow! You won out
and I'm proud of you."
Boy's face was slowly undergoing a change.
It was growing once more interested, happy,
hopeful. "Why, that's so, dad," 'he said, joy-
ously, after a minute; "I didn't see that.
And God was on our side after all, wasn't
"'Greater is he that ruleth his spirit than
he that taketh a city,' said the father, with a
That night when Boy said his prayers, this
is the way he ended his petition: "And please,
God, excuse me for the way I thought about
You this afternoon. I didn't understand."-

If we noticed little pleasures
As we notice little pains;
If we quite forgot our losses
And remembered all our gains;
If we looked for people's virtues,
And their faults refused to see,
What a comfortable, happy,
Cheerful place this world would be!



"That Dreamer."

ONE day, long, long ago, on a quiet summer afternoon, a number of
young men were sitting near a large flock of sheep. They were talk-
ing just now and looking off over the fields. They saw somebody coming
and they didn't at first know who it was. But then one spoke up, "That's
Joseph, I'll bet you." "Yes," said another, "I can tell the long coat."
"My, that dreamer thinks he is somebody," spoke up a third one. And
then they all looked and watched. "Let's trip him up," suggested one.
"Yes, here's an empty pit. Let's knock him in the head and throw him
in. Then we'll see what comes of his dreams."
From this kind of talk you can see how they felt, these brothers of
Joseph. They hated him. Why? He surely had never hurt them. Why
then did they call him "that dreamer" and plan even to kill him?
Because they were evil. They were bad young men,, and when Joseph
had had certain strange dreams and told them about them, they couldn't
speak peaceably to him. He couldn't help he dreamed as he did. And
he was a boy his father could trust. But they were not to be trusted alto-
gether. And so they hated him and called him names.
And they did more. They jumped at him when he came near, tore
off his nice, long coat, put him into the empty pit, dipped the coat in the
blood of a goat, and took it to their father. Why? To make believe a
wild animal had killed him. They were cowards as well. And so it goes
when we hate. Then we can call others names.

What does the Catechism teach us about these things?

We should fear and love God, and not slander our neighbor.
"I want a godly fear,
A quick, discerning eye,
That looks to Thee when sin is near,
And sees the tempter fly;
A spirit still prepared,
And armed with jealous care,
Forever standing on its guard,
And watching unto prayer."



One of the Boys' Pets,

All. ,,


Merrill, Wis.
Dear Editor:-
SI thought I would write a letter to the
Companion Circle before, so I will write now,
I go to Sunday school .every Sunday. I am
confirmed. Our pastor's name is Rev. Ram-
seth. I am 13 years old and am in the first
year high school. I am taking up the General
Course. I have two sisters and one brother.
We have a Bible Class in our Sunday school
and I belong to it. There are about 45 pupils
in Sunday school. I will have to close now
for -this time. -Esther Gilbertson.
What do you study in your Bible Class,
Esther? We are interested in hearing what
Sunday schools are doing.-
Roland, Iowa.
Dear Editor:-
This is the first letter I have written to
the Children's Companion. I have not seen
many letters from here. I am eight years
old. I go to Sunday school every Sunday.
My teacher is my aunt Martha Sheldahl. Our
pastor's name is Rev. J. N. Sandvin. We go
to Lutheran church. We have half a mile to
town. I go to public school. I .am in the
third grade. My teacher's name is Miss Tieg.
We live on a farm. I bring the cream for
my father when he is busy and bring in wood
and cobs for mamma. You see, Christmas
will soon be here and if I obey I may get
something nice for Christmas. We have to
practice every Sunday at 2 p. m. We shall
have a Christmas tree. We sing nice songs
about Jesus, our Savior. I like to read nice
Christmas stories. I have some money saved
in my bank that I am going- to give to the
mission. I will close my letter. Please ex-
cuse my mistakes, I will try and do better
next time. I wish you a Merry Christmas and
a Happy New Year. Your Companion reader,
Ernest B. Eggland.
Thank you, Ernest, for your interesting
Christmas letter. We cannot get it into the
paper till long after as you see. Glad to see
that you are so willing to help papa and
mamma. Of course, you will be rewarded for
it. But would you not be a good and obedient
boy even if your parents were unable to re-
ward you? Of course you would. You still
have .God's promise to all obedient children.
That is better than any other reward.
Sacred Heart, Minn.
Dear Editor:-
We have never written to the Companion
before. We go to the Hauge's Lutheran Sun-
day school. There are four girls and eight
boys in our class. Our teacher's name is Mr.
S. Jordet whom we like very well. There
are over fifty children and seven teachers in
all. The superintendent's name is Mrs. H.

B. Helgeson. We are now practising for-a
Christmas program. I, Alice, have three sis-
ters and three brothers. My parents have
been to Norway and Sweden this summer. I
go to public school and am"in the seventh
grade. My teacher's name is Miss Strom.
I, Amy, have two sisters. I attend school in
the country and am in the seventh grade also.
My- teacher's name is Miss Becklund. Hop-
ing our letter will escape the waste basket,
we remain your Companion readers,
Amy Erickson,
Alice Johnson.
Pleased to hear from you, Amy and Alice.
Your parents, Alice, must have ha.d a grand
time in their travels in Europe. Should you
not wish that you could have gone with them?
You can have them tell -many interesting
things which will greatly interest you, I am
Minneapolis, Minn.
Dear Companion Readers:-
I have never written to the Companion
before but I will do so now. I am writing
this to tell you about our Monday Mission
Club which meets at the boys' houses every
Monday afternoon at four o'clock. There are
twelve boys in it, and we are working for the
Jews, because our pastor, Rev. C. K. Solberg,
said that the Jews are God's own people. I
hope other boys will organize clubs like this
so that we can have a lot of boy missionaries
right here in America. Hoping I shall soon
see my letter printed I remain, your Com-
panion reader, Gerhard Hansen.
These are the names of the rest of the
members: Joseph Opsal, Gerhard Sonnesyn,
Spencer Embretson, Henning Brevik, Claude
Werner, Prescott Holman, Johannes Werner,
Conrad Christenson, Arnold Andresen, Oscar
Solberg, Harold Hall.
Thank you very much, Gerhard. Yes,
we, too, hope our boys and girls as well
might organize all over our United Church.
God has said about His people, "I will bless
them that bless thee." You can look for a
blessing, boys.
Green Bay, Wis.
Dear Editor:-
As I have never written to the Children's
Companion before, I will write now. I am
ten years old. I have two brothers, Their
names are Alfred and Harold. I go to Sun-
day school every Sunday. My teacher's name
is Anna Johnson. Our pastor's name is Rev.
Bongsto. I go to the Tank school. I am
in the fourth grade. My school teacher's
name is Miss Lahan. So I must close for
this time. Hoping to see my letter in print.
Your little friend,.. Anna Cederstrom.
Here is your letter, Anna. We are glad
to hear from you.



Do you know among what great and old
people- the children, both the small and the
grown, do much to honor their parents? It
is a people we call heathen, and yet they often
show much more respect for their parents and
superiors than we find in many Christian
homes. That country is China.
Who has done more for us than our father
and our mother? Through them we have our
life and through them we have been kept.
SWhen we were small and couldn't do anything
for ourselves, mother or father or both of them
watched over us and took care of us. And
God knows this. He remembers all about you
and me when we were babies, and He saw
all father and mother did, and that's why He
says, "Honor." Think of all you owe them
and respect them highly, love them and obey
them. Did you ever hear what President Gar-
field did on the day he became President of
the United States? On the platform where
he was, sat his aged mother and just as he
became President, he bent down and kissed
his mother right in front of a big, big crowd
of people.
Have you ever kissed your mother since
you grew up? If not, you just go up to her
sometime when she's all tired out and put
your arms around her neck and kiss her.
But what does God set before us when we
honor father and mother? "It shall be well
with thee;" "thou shalt live long." Many
times we think if we could be something we
like, it would be well with us; and then we
go dreaming of all the things we're going to
do. That's what we think and how we dream;
but here in this old book is what God prom-
ises. And that's sure. A great English officer
in the navy has said that he noticed it turned
out well with those young men under his
command who wrote regularly to their
"It- shall be well with you." In all that
is necessary to live comfortably, for food,
clothing, health, home, friends, work, honor,
in all of these things that belong to life, it
shall be well with you. That's what God
says about your future in this life when you
honor father and mother. Isn't that a nice
picture for the days to come on earth?
The story of Joseph shows us this so
plainly. He had enemies who tried to hurt
him, who tried to make it go ill with him.
His brothers threw him into an empty well
to starve to death, then they took him up and
sold him as a slave, then a wicked woman
lied about him, then he was put in jail; but

he had one good friend and that was God.
And you know it went well with Joseph.-
Luth. Guide.


"Oh! Isn't it nice to see so many children-
here for Sunday school!"
Yes, indeed; your pastor is ever so glad
to see you come to Sunday school every Lord's
Day. He may be getting too old to care
about us? By no means! He is thinking of
you every day-yes, at night wakes up to
think again of the children in '.he Sundy
And he is glad, too, when you are able
to bring some playmate with you, and thus
show your interest in mission work. And
in your city, town, village, or even in the
country, many children are found who go to
no Sunday school-so, you can be a little mis-
sionary, really and truly!
But that same pastor spends many long
winter evenings and many long sunny morn-
ings in preparing his sermons, and Oh! how
glad he is to see all the children remain for
church! Now, he rejoices that all his work
was not lost, for these little hearts will carry
many crumbs home with them. And you
can help to fill the pews that are often empty.
Is it not very sad that so many are ab-
sent! Just go with excursions once and you
will be surprised to see so many who ought
to be in church! And, then, in winter it is
"so cold" in the church; so stormy, or looks
as if it might storm. And in the summer it is
too hot, unless it rains! Oh, how sad the
poor pastor is! He has worked so hard to
prepare a sermon and now not half the con-
gregation present to hear it! Is it any won-
der he is losing heart? Any wonder his ser-
mons lack fire and eloquence?
Now, children, I will tell you a secret:
"How to put fire or life into a dead sermon."
It is not a hard thing to do, so just try it
a few years and see how it works. Let every
child be found in some of these empty pews,
and let them fill the church with the hymns-
just sing out as you do in Sunday school.
This will put new life in the minister, and is
just as sure to put more into you!
You may not be able to understand all
the sermon, but there will be a blessing for
you in all you do understand. And you will
soon learn to get more and more from each
And then you can go to fathers and moth-
ers and say:
"I am helping to make the service better
in the church; now will not you help to make
it better by'a more regular attendance? Both
in church and Sunday school?"-A.




No sound broke the stillness of the hospital
room save the steady beat, beat of the rain
against the window. Within, the room bore
the immaculate and chilly appearance so
characteristic of hospitals.
"They've sterilized away everything,"
moaned the occupant of the narrow bed in
the midst of all this cleanliness, "even down
to my last shred of cheerfulness," and two big
tears of self-pity rolled down and marred the
spotless purity of the counterpane. "They'll
have to sterilize these spots now," and the
ghost of a smile flickered over her face.
Just then a gentle rap at the door broke
in upon her musings.
In answer to her languid "Come in" the
door opened and admitted-not a doctor or
nurse with medicine and advice-but a "real,
live visitor," as the erstwhile pessimist in-
wardly exulted. The "real, live visitor," how-
ever, paused on the threshold with an apolo-
getic gesture.
"I beg your pardon," she said, "they made
a mistake in directing me to your room. I
was looking for a friend, and you- "
"Are just Patient No. 63-nobody's friend!"
finished the other, all the expectancy fading
from her face.
She might have known it was a mistake!
No one knew her in this big, strange city,
where, in passing through she had been so
suddenly taken ill and brought to this mam-
moth, heartless hospital to be-"just Patient
No.. 63; nobody's friend." She had been
bountifully supplied with money, and it had
secured for her the best of accommodations
and care. But oh, the dreariness of the days
and weeks when there had been no one to
.really care whether she lived or died! Now
;she was slowly struggling back to health.
"She only needs some interest in life to
,complete the cure," the doctor had said, and,
in his cool, professional way, had urged her
to exert herself to feel such an interest. But
.alas, interest is not created by urging and
exerting, nor can it be purchased at a price.
And on this particular rainy afternoon "Pa-
tient No. 63" was far from feeling any vital
-concern in anything.
From the doorway, eyes accustomed to
read the face of even the passers-by on the
street were scanning the drooping mouth, the

pale face and the weary eyes. It was a mis-
take yes but sometimes an all-wise Prov-
idence uses just such mistakes to accomplish
some purpose.
"Mayn't I come in anyway?" The voice
was full of cheery warmth. Patient No. 63
smiled again-this time in spite of herself-
and raised her eyes once more. Their appeal
was enough to assure the visitor of a wel-
come and a need, as well.
"I'm a deaconess, you see," she explained,
"and I meet so many people all the time that
I'm not very bashful; I'm a little tired now,
and if you don't mind I'd like to stop and rest
a moment."
While she had been talking she had closed
the door and drawn a chair up near the bed.
Those friendly eyes that looked so steadily
into her own had real interest and sympathy
in them. Somebody cared. A thin, weak
hand slipped out from under the bed-clothes,
and a strong one closed o er it.
An hour later the rain was- still beating
its ceaseless chant upon the window panes,
but the refrain was no longer "Alone! Alone!
Alone!" To the heart of Patient No. 63 it was
re-echoing "A Friend! A Friend! My Friend!"
And with the thought new life and strength
came pulsing through the weak body.
An hour wasted in a busy deaconess life?
Perhaps! but in the heart of the deaconess
as she climbed the stairs to the right room
was a prayer of thanks for the accident that
had made it possible for her to satisfy one
poor heart hungering for that which no money
can buy, and whose price is above the price
of pearls-a friend.-Deaconess Advocate.

Tbt Cbffnrens Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark, Illinois

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"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."

Vol. XX. Sunday, March 2, 1913. No. 9.


All boys enjoy reading Indian stories.
They enjoy the hunting expeditions and war-
like adventures of the red-skin, admire their
,cunning, courage, and their faithfulness.
'But do you also consider that these red
heroes are heathens, who live and die without
the Savior? With enthusiasm you read about
the hunters and trappers who live among the
Indians," but what do you know about the
heroism of the men and women who live to
lead these poor heathens to the Savior? For
a long time the disciples of the Lord have not
only found the way to the wigwams of the
red men, but also to their hearts.
Also our Synod is conducting a mission
and Christian school among the Indians of
Wisconsin, and our pastor there, Rev. M. C.
Waller, and the manager of the mission at
Eland, Mr. 0. C. Tostrud, can report very
favorably of the progress of the work. Let
us not forget to pray for these poor, ignorantf
people and our workers among them, and let
us try to set aside some of our Sunday-school
-collections to help this mission.
But in spite of success and progress, it
*often looks as though the good seed of the
word is choked by the weeds of sin. But even
when it so appears to us, it is not always the
case. A certain missionary, Mr. Young, gives
xus a beautiful proof of this.
For many years the gifted and zealous mis-
sionary Evans had labored in Canada north
.of Eake Winnipeg. From his mission-station,
Norway House, he had traveled far and wide
-to bring the Gospel to the red-skins.
From one of his trips he brought with him
a young Indian boy. His father and mother
were dead-no one knew how, and no one
-of his tribe wanted to adopt the lad. There-
fore Mr. Evans took pity on him and received
him into his household.
There he grew to be a strong and lively
boy, and both his bodily and spiritual de-

velopment gave his foster-father great pleas-
In Norway House the Hudson Bay Coinm-
pany also had a station, where they traded the
products of civilization for the furs of the
Indian hunters.
During the summer great crowds of these
hunters came to the station. Our bright boy,
who had received the baptismal name of Wil-
liam from Mr. Evans, found much pleasure
in the company of these Indians and in listen-
ing to their tales of adventure.
One company of heathen fur-hunters from
afar off stayed in Norway House a long time.
One bright morning they had entirely dis-
appeared and with them the boy William.
In vain Mr. Evans waited for his return;
in vain was all search and all questions in
regard to his whereabouts; no trace of him
could be found.
Mr. Evans and his successor were both
called away to other fields after successful
terms of work.
Missionary Young had already become
familiar with the work of the station after
several years of -labor.
The long, hard winter had departed and
spring rested on the land. According to
custom the trading station was preparing to
receive the fur-traders.
One day as Mr. Young sat in his study
bowed over his Bible, his sensitive ear was
disturbed by a slight noise.
When he looked up a stately Indian
stranger stood before him. When Mr. Young
asked him what he wished, he replied with
the question:
"Missionary, will you help me to become
a Christian?"
Of course, Mr. Young with pleasure prom-
ised to help and asked the stranger whence
he came and what had made him want to be
a Christian.
Now the Indian told his story:
"After the death of my parents Mission-
ary Evans brought me here, and I lived with


him two or three years. He did me much
good and taught me about the great God and
His Son Jesus. Then one summer strange
Indians came here and told me much about
their trips and hunts. Finally they said that
they had no children in their wigwam and
wanted to adopt me as their child; then I
would not have to serve the white man any-
"Foolish boy that I was, I believed them
and have atoned heavily for it.
"In the night I stole from the house and
fled with them to their home.
"Before long, however, I found that every-
thing was not as beautiful as they had said.
But now I could not return.
"Missionary Evans had loved me, but now
I was cruelly treated, hungered, and was
beaten. Yes, they were heathens and wicked
people, and therefore I also became wicked.
"When I was grown up my life became
more pleasant and as I was a good hunter I
had plenty of food and a good income.
"Then I was married and had children. I
had forgotten, and was as happy as a heathen
could be. But last winter misfortune befell
"I slew many fur animals, but nothing that
we could eat. Often I surprised a reindeer.
But when I shot, I missed, or my gun clicked.
Then again I did not see any game for many
days. Thus weeks passed by. The provisions
in my wigwam were consumed and we faced
"In my despair I said: 'Try once more. If
you do not succeed, shoot yourself.'
"I could not think of letting my wife and
children starve. Tired and hungry I spent the
night in the woods and did not dare to return
to my wigwam.
"The following day I shot a lone rabbit
with which I satisfied my ravening appetite
that evening. The third day brought the same
misery. Until noon I roamed about hungry.
Then I sat down on a stump and said: 'Here
will I die.'
"I placed the rifle against my temple and
was going to press the trigger with my foot.
Suddenly it seemed as if someone called:
"William! William!"
"Frightened, I sprang up and looked
around. But no one was in sight. Then I
understood that the voice was within me.
"It was the conscience of which Mr. Evans
had told me. It had slept for a long while,
but now it awoke.
"As I listened, it continued:
"'Have you forgotten what the missionary

years ago told you about the Great Spirit,
who is ever good and kind and receives men
even when they have deserted Him?
"'Do you not remember that you once
learned: "I will call upon Him in my need
and He will help me?" Now you are in great
need. Will you not come to Him and tell Him
of your need?'
"Thus spoke the voice within me; but I
trembled and hesitated; I was ashamed.
"Now I fully understood how wicked and
ungrateful I had been when I had left Mr.
Evans and the Great Spirit and had tried to
forget all I had heard and learned.
"How could I, as wicked as I was, dare to
come to the Great Spirit?
"But the voice said:
"'Return to Him. Do you not remember
what you heard about the son who left his
father and how he returned home in the
greatest need and was joyously received by
his father?'
"But still I trembled and hesitated in fear
and shame. Then it seemed as though I heard
my wife and children weeping from hunger
and cry for food. Now I decided that I loved
them dearly.
"I knelt in the snow and began to pray.
I do not know what I prayed, but I arose
composed and quiet. I felt that the Great
Spirit had heard my prayer.
"I felt no more hunger and weariness. I
took my gun and set out joyously. I had
only gone a short distance when I saw a
large reindeer. I shot, and this time I did not
miss. The game dropped dead. Now I had
plenty of meat. The Great Spirit had an-
swered my prayer; I need not die from hun-
"Then I knelt in the snow once more and
promised Him:
"'Because Thou hast heard me in my great
need, I will, when the snow is gone and the
ice is melted, go to the missionary and ask
him to help me be a Christian.'
"From that day on I have not ceased
praying, and the Great Spirit has never let us
want food.
"Now the winter is past; the snow is gone;
and the ice, is melted. I have come to keep
my promise to the Great Spirit. Missionary,
help me and my wife to become Christians."
You can readily understand how happy Mr.
Young was to do as the lost and returned
son asked.
There were still people at the mission-
station who could verify the story of the
runaway boy. As true Christians they gladly


received him whom God had converted and
From the day that William had been called
back by God, he taught his wife and children
the Gospel to the best of his ability. And
Mr. Young found the field so well prepared
that he very soon baptized the wife and chil-
dren of the returned prodigal son.
Taught by bitter experience, strengthened
by grace William, remained a true Christian
unto the end and through faith in the Savior
departed into the glory and joy of his
H-eavenly Father.


Marion was in her room one afternoon,
feeling very cross, for she had quarreled with
her cousin and had come home in tears.
"Dear me," half sighed the voice behind
her, "you do make such a lot of work!"
Marion turned around quickly and saw a
little gray-bearded man with a sad coun-
tenance, carrying a large bag quite full of
something that bulged it here and there very
"Well," she exclaimed, "I don't see how
that can be! I do not know you; and I cer-
tainly never told you to do anything. Who
are you?"
"Why, I am the Shadow Man. I pick up
and carry away all the shadows you make.
You can have rag men to take away the rags,
junk men to take away old bones and bits of
iron and such things, and. of course, you need
to have a Shadow Man to take away the
shadows. If you did not you would soon be
covered, so you would not have any sunshine
at all."
"What do you give for shadows?" asked
"Oh, I never give anything for them.
Shadows are things no one wants, so the
ones who make them pay for them."
"I do not understand," said the little girl.
"Well, you were cross today with your
cousin. You were to blame about wanting
the doll all to yourself, and so you have paid
one afternoon's pleasure already for making a
shadow on Cousin Jane's face. Tomorrow
you will be sorry, but you cannot go there
and enjoy yourself, so you will pay some
more; and you will keep on paying, perhaps,
till you have paid a very high price."
"Well, what is it to you if I do?" grum-
bled the child, half ashamed that she had been
so foolish.
"Oh, I have come around to take care of the

shadows! See, here are -some you have made
The little man opened the bag and pulled
out a handful. They were very light and
thin, but quite broad. He laid them out on
Marion's bed for her to look at. "Here is
the first one." Marion saw the shadow of
a lazy girl lying in bed. "That's one," con-
tinued the Shadow Man, "I found clinging to
your mother. You put it on her, for she did
not sleep well last night, was tired, and needed
you to help get breakfast. This one, you see,
is the shadow of a hand. I found this on
the side of your little brother's face."
"Yes," owned Marion with a guilty air, "I
did threaten to strike him. I raised my hand
to do it, but I did not suppose the shadow
would stay like that,"
"Here is a small shadow I found on Aunt
Caroline's heart," continued the old man.
"She spoke pleasantly to you when you were
going to school, and you did not answer her
because you were in a hurry. So the shadow
settled upon her."
"What!" said Marion, as she felt her
cheeks burn at the sight of the great heap of
shadows before her; "these all my shadows?
But I will try not to make any more."
Just then a ray of sunshine fell upon the
Shadow Man, and Marion saw that it shone
right through him. He seized his bag, and
whisked out of sight in a moment, just as
Marion's mother came into the room, and
said: "Well, I declare! Here is my little
girl fast asleep!"-Selected.


Dear little lad, with flashing eyes,
And soft cheeks where the swift red flies,
Someone has grieved you, dear; I know
Just how it hurts; words can hurt so!
But listen, laddie-don't you hear
The old clock ticking loud and clear?
It says, "Dear heart, let us forget-
I wouldn't fret! I wouldn't fret!"

Why, little girlie, what's gone wrong?
My song-bird's drooping, hushed her song.
The world has used you ill, you say?
Ah, sweetheart, that is just its way.
It doesn't mean to be unkind,
So, little lassie, never mind;
The old clock ticks, "Forget, forget-
I wouldn't fret! I wouldn't fret!"
-Florence A. Jones, in Success.


The Boy Who Coveted.
THERE were two brothers in that home. The father was a rich map
and he was getting old. The older of the boys used to be out and
away from home a great deal. He liked hunting and was away with his
traps and snares and spears a great deal of the time. The other boy used
to stay around home more. He didn't care much for hunting. His
mother liked him best; while the sportsman, the hunter, was his father's
One day the older boy, Esau, had been out tramping far and wide and
hadn't gotten much. He came home tired and dusty, hungry and thirsty.
And it happened that his brother, Jacob, was just making some nice soup.
It smelled nice and to the hungry Esau it was just the thing he wanted.
"Give me some soup, Jake, won't you?" he asked. "Well, now, I've
had quite a job getting this meal for myself. But I'll tell you, Esau, if
you'll give me your right to double of the inheritance, I'll let you have
it." (The older boy or child used to get twice as much as the other chil-
dren. Now Jacob wanted to get that. That was coveting his brother's
inheritance. That was sin against the ninth commandment.)
And Esau was sort of a careless fellow anyway. He didn't stop to
think much. He was tired and hungry and so he said, "Oh, sure. I may
not live long anyway. What's the difference." And so he was careless
and Jacob was wrong in getting what he had no right to. For he was not
the first born, the older. But when we begin to covet, to desire a thing
we have no right to, we do sin. We'll not be really happy even if we
get it.
What does the Catechism teach us about these things?

"Thou shalt not covet" thy neighbor's inheritance or home.
"Arm me with jealous care,
As in Thy sight to live,
And oh, Thy servant, Lord, prepare,
A strict account to give!
Help me to watch and pray,
And on Thyself rely,
Steadfast to walk on Christ's dear way
And God to glorify."


Acting Like Geese.


Grafton, N. D.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
I must now write you another letter to
let you know we have a minister now. I am
sure you have heard of him; his name is Rev.
Gle.nn. And we think he is fine. We have
a large Sunday school of a hundred and
twenty-six scholars. I am studying the cate-
chism. There are eight in our class. My
mamma is our teacher. From your Com-
panion reader, Emily Hoiswen.
Thank you, Emily, for your letter. Yes,
we've heard of your minister. We hope you
pray for him.

Roth, N. D.
Dear Editor:-
I have never written to the Children's
Companion before, but will try now. I am
eleven years old and am in the fifth grade in
school. I go to Norwegian Sunday school
every Sunday. I read in the "Forklaring" in
Sunday school. Our teacher's name is Mrs.
Olaf Johnson. Our English school teacher's
name is Miss Mabel Score. I have two sis-
ters and two brothers. We get Sunday school
papers every Sunday, and I am glad when I
can learn more about the heavenly Father.
As my letter is getting long I will close with
best wishes. I hope all the Companion read-
ers will learn lots about God also. Hoping
to see my letter in print, from your Com-
panion reader, Clara Rodseth.
Thank you, Clara. We, too, hope our
girls and boys who are baptized to belong
to God, will learn more and more to live like
His children.
Beloit, Wis.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
I am a little girl eight years old and go
to Sunday school every Sunday. My teach-
er's name is Miss Larson. I like her very
much. In Sunday school we study the cate-
chism. I am learning the twenty-third psalm
at home. Our superintendent, Mr. Hansen,
encourages us to read Bible chapters during
the week. The pastor of our church is Rev.
J. N. Brown. I attend public school and am
in fifth room. Esther Seaver.
That's nice, Esther, reading the Bible.
Can you find the ten commandments in the
Madison, Minn.
Dear Editor:-
As I have not written to the Companion
circle before I will do so now. I am eight
years of age. I go to public school and am in
the third grade. I also go to Sunday school
every Sunday. I enjoy reading the Com-
panion letters. Wishing the Companion
circle a Merry Christmas and a happy New
Year, I am yours sincerely,
Marie Sorknes.

Marie, we, too, hope the whole year will
be a good one for you. And now as you
enjoy reading the letters, some one else does,
too. So please tell us more next time about
your schools.
Velva, N. D.
Dear Editor:-
I have never written to the Companion
before, so I will write a few words now. I
am ten years old, and I am in the fifth grade
in public school. I go to the Hauge Sun-
day school. My Sunday school teacher's
name is Mr. Erickson. I like him very much.
Must close my simple, letter. Hope to see
it in print. A Companion reader,
Lillian Spilde.
Here is your letter, Lillian. Thank you.
Mandan, N. D.
Dear Editor:-
As I have not written to the Companion
readers before, I will write now. I am thir-
teen years old and am in the seventh grade.
I go to the Lutheran Sunday school and my
teacher's name is Mr. Killand. We like him
very much. Our pastor's name is Rev. 0.
Belsheim. There are about fifty children in
our Sunday school. I have four sisters and
five brothers. Hoping to see my letter in
print. With best wishes to the Companion
readers and editor. Yours truly,
Vernon Peters.
Many thanks, Vernon, for your kind
wishes. It makes us feel glad to hear you
say so.
Green Bay, Wis.
Dear Editor:-
This is my first letter to the Companion.
I have found both the Bible verses. The first
will be found in Rev. 3:10: "Because thou
hast kept the word of my patience, I also
will keep thee from the hour of temptation,
which shall come upon all the world, to try
them that dwell upon the earth"; the second
will be found in Acts 16:11ii: "Search the
Scriptures". I enjoy reading the paper very
much. I am eleven years old. I have one
sister named Elsie, also one brother, whose
name is George. I am in the fifth grade in
public school. My teacher is Miss Dunn. My
Sunday school teacher is Miss Clara Dysland;
she is a splendid teacher. I go to Sunday
school every Sunday, and so does my sister
and brother. We are working for our gold
pins for good lessons and perfect attendance.
Our pastor is Rev. Bongsto; we like him very
well. There are 107 children enrolled in
Sunday school. We have fourteen teachers.
My letter is getting too long. With best
wishes, from Ingeborg Johansen.
Ingeborg, you say "Acts 16 chapter, Ith
verse," but is that correct? There is noth-
ing there in my Bible about "searching 'the
Scriptures." Try again, please.


Wires tired?
That is what the telegraph operators tell
us, and they say that after a wire has been
constantly in use, transmitting messages for
a long time, it needs rest. After that, they
go ahead again and do their work far better.
And there is a belief pretty well founded that
other things than telegraph wires need a day
of rest now and then. Barbers think that
razors work better after they have been laid
aside for awhile. Automobiles kept all the
time in use tire so that they do not obey com-
mands of the driver as they once did.
And how tired these old bodies of ours get
sometimes! Day after day in these strenuous
times we fairly long for a moment when we
can just lay our heads down close to the
bosom of old Mother Earth and be still. After
such a time of resting we go back strong to
do the work that comes to us.
But the sorest weariness is that which
comes to the heart. The days have been so
hard! Things have come to try us as we
never were tried before. Passion's hot tide
has swept over us, and we are conscious that
somehow the current of power is weak within
us. What shall we do now?
What but creep away from the world and
its glare and glitter and be alone with Jesus!
Blessed resting time! Safe and sure re-
treat from all the harassing cares! We will
go. We will sit with His hands in ours. We
will listen to His words of cheer, and then
we will go down into the world again, strong
in the power of His might.
Stop a while and rest the tired wires!-
Edgar. L. Vincent, in American Messenger.


Every single day should be to you a day
of royal discontent. You never thought as
well as you ought to think. You never meant
as highly as you ought to mean. You never
planned as nobly as you ought to plan. You
never executed as well as you ought to exe-
cute. Over the production of the scholar,
over the canvas of the artist, over the task of
the landscape gardener, over the pruner's
knife, there ought to hover perpetually his
blessed ideal, telling him, "Your work is
poor-it should be better," so that every day
he should lift higher and higher, with an
everlasting pursuit of hope which shall end
only in perfection when he reaches the land
beyond.-H. W. Beecher.



Toksang and Yingchi were Chinese boys,
who lived near the emperor's palace, just out-
side the city of Peking. Though they played
Together, they had many disagreements, for
Yingchi was not at all particular by what
means victory came to him, When Toksang
protested, Yingchi would laugh at him and
say, "You are slow, Toksang. You will never
get along in this world. You are not sharp
enough. When we grow up I shall be rich
and powerful; you will be poor, and in my
good nature I will lend you copper cash."
"Well, if I am poor, I shall be honest," re-
torted Toksang.
"Do you mean to say that I cheat?" in-
quired Yingcbi threateningly.
"Yes," replied Toksang, and then the fight
began. While they were at it hammer and
tongs, two long, lean hands suddenly grabbed
them and pulled them apart. The boys looked
up astonished to see a little old man with
very bright eyes regarding them. The boys
recognized him at once as the emperor's prime
minister and kowtowed, '-.' n'JirLng over on their
knees and touching the earth three times with
their foreheads.
"The emperor wants a page," began the
old man, plunging into business at once,
"who shall be brought up in the palace and
be trained to become an officer of state. I
noticed you two boys frequently in my morn-
ing walks. I have -',lu'i.- you both, but can't
quite make up my mind which I shall choose.
I suppose you fly kites tonight?"
Once a year every Chinaman, big and little,
flies a "kite of good resolutions," They pre-
pare these kites in secret, *.ri-9r.; on them all
the faults which they believe they have, and
then, when it so dark that their neighbors and
friends cannot read the inscriptions, they go
to some open place and send the kites up.
When the kite has reached a sufficient height
the string is cut. The kite sails away, and
with it, the Chinese hope, -.; 1.`A: bad habits.,
That night the yearly T';-; of the kites of
good resolutions was to take place, so the
boys both answered, "Oh! yes, sir; we shall
fly kites tonight, of conurre."


"Afl-hum-yes-of course," replied Pop-ye,
f(Al- thai wast the prime minister's, name. Then
po1nintig with his fan to Yingehi, he said:
1' i: 11 to the body of your kite a silver coin.
Anod you," pointing to Toksanig, "fasten to
yoWrs 4 peacock's feather,"
"Oh, dear !" sighed Toksang, as he prepared
his kite that afternoon. "I see how it is.
The prime minister will send out and get
oill-two marked kites, and he will know all
Our faults," When he had written all the
a-ills which he had, or believed he had, on
tho kite, he had made out a pretty bad case
against himself.
Yingvhi *ii,.l,, d his kite in short order.
"What a silly old chap Pop-ye is, anyway.
0lid he think I could not see through his
seheuw? There, I wonder if Toksang can
heat that kite?" and he held out admiringly a
wire white kite, on which was written not one
single ifirciptipon.
That night the kites were flown, and be-
fttce dayhr-eak the prime minister dispatched
unnears over the it, ii ur,,'n g country to
fnd and bring back the kites marked with a
.ilvder coint and a peacock feather.
t, a great and haughty official of the
cort cai-e to bid the boys put on their best
clote, and repair to the palace. Court officials
t hok the boys through many splendid rooms,
a.nd fially into the garden where, in a sum-
et ho1.se, sat Pop-ye with the kites on the
tabe b~efore. him. He clapped his hands, and
a slave bFought a great bronze brazier with
a c-harcoa<> firt burinag in it. "Let us see
whlat the spirit of the fire says to the kite of
perfete0tio," said the prime minister, and he
hlA the wbh.ite kite over the brazier.
Ti.. r, ,. strange thing happened. Written
wrds, began to show upon the surface of the
liyte--"ill temperr" *'...I .71," i. n : "hypoc-
ri''y." -tc-.-until the white surface was
covered all over with a most awful catalogue
of s.ais. "..Ho! ho!" cred Pop-ye, "no need to
lpok f:u:rth-r to &ee who wins the position at
cou.rt. Here, steward, drive the deceiving
YiagcMhi forth from the palace gates. Take
To!ksa.ng to his chamber and clothe him with
file, cq1tothing. He is chosen for the service of
the emperor."
It was, done as he commanded. Of course,
you- can- seee at once that the whole thing was
a, trick of; Pop-ye's, who had secretly chosen
To'Qksang beforehand, but he wanted to teach
Yin-chi a lesson that he would not forget.
With sympathetic ink, which is invisible
wh-e-n- first used, but which becomes visible

when exposed to heat, he had written on
Yingchi's kite the bad qualities he knew from
observation the boy really possessed. But
it was all a mystery to Yingchi and to Tok-


"Did you ever notice," said an old lady,
smiling into the troubled face before her,
"that when the Lord told the discouraged
fishermen to cast their nets again it was right
in that same old place where they had been
working all night and had caught nothing?
If we could only go off to some new place
every time we get discouraged trying again
would be an easier thing. If we could be
somebody else, or go somewhere else, or do
something else, it might not be hard to have
fresh faith and courage; -but it is the same
old net in the same old pond for most of us.
The old temptations are to be overcome, the
old faults to be conquered, the old trials and
discouragements before which we failed yes-
terday to be faced again today. We must
win success where we are if we win at all, and
it is the Master himself who after all these
toilful, disheartening efforts that we -call fail-
tires, bids us "Try again." However, it seems
to us, nothing can be really failure which is
obedient to His command, and some bright
morning "the great draught" of reward will

ThEt Cfilbren' Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark, Illinois
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"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."

Vol. XX. Sunday, March 9, 1913. No. To.

(By D. W. Field.)

"Take good care of Bennie, dear," cautioned
mother, coming to the door and gazing at the
-chubby little face in the perambulator. "Re-
member, mother trusts you."
Wallie squared his small shoulders and
threw out his stout little chest. "Oh, don't
worry. I'll look out for him all right," he

amusing antics, as he usually did. Suddenly he
noticed that there was an unusual stir among
the crowd of boys and girls, and presently he
made out above the din a shout: "Felix is out!
Run for your lives!"
Felix was a huge, fierce bear who was a
late acquisition of the park, and who had the
reputation of having killed a man at some dim
and distant time in the past. No wonder the
children ran as fast as their legs could carry

Far, Far Away!

assured her, and calling to Chip, his little dog,
he went whistling out of the gate, pushing the
baby's carriage before him.
It was only a few blocks to the park, and
the morning was clear and beautiful. Chip
ran on ahead with little excited barks at
everything unusual, and baby clapped his small
hands delightedly, crowing ana dimpling.
Wallie pushed the carriage up to the cage
containing the monkeys, and here he be-
-came lost to the world in a study of their

them! Poor frightened Wallie grabbed the
perambulator and started to run too. But,
alas! one wheel had somehow become caught
in a piece of wire which projected from the
guard around the monkey's cage, and refused
to give. He pulled and tugged, but in vain,
getting red in the face in the effort. Mean-
while the crowd had melted away-self-pres-
ervation being the first law of nature-with
no thought of those left behind. Seeing that
the wheel could not be extricated quickly, he


turned his attention to Bennie, and endeavored
to lift him from his seat.
But here defeat met him again. Careful
mamma had tied the baby in securely with a
stout scarf, and the small fingers of the heroic
little brother were powerless to undo the tight
Just then a noise caused him to turn, and
there, not ten feet away, stood the dreaded
creature, a huge, shaggy bear!
Wallie's first instinct, naturally, was to run.
Then mother's loving admonition flashed into
his mind-"Take good care of Bennie, dear,"
and especially her added, "Remember, mother
trusts you." And when baby held out his
small arms with a puckered, frightened face,
as if asking for protection, he would have died
at the stake rather than desert his charge.
So he took up his post between the baby
and the bear, the latter's eyes seeming, to his
overwrought imagination, to glare at them
fiercely and hungrily. He picked up a stick
that lay near, as if to do battle for their lives,
when the worst should come to the worst, but
his small hands trembled so that he could
scarcely hold it.
All the time the bear was coming nearer,
nearer, very slowly, as if gloating over the
victims he was so sure of. Wallie had kept
hoping against the futility of hope that some
one would come to their rescue before it was
too late, but no one came, and at last, closing
his eyes to shut out for a minute the sight of
the horrible, shaggy, monster with the heavy,
padding feet, he let two big tears of surrender
roll down his checks.
And then he heard somebody calling, just
at his elbow, "Come here, you black humbug!
What do you mean by frightening people half
out of their senses? You, that wouldn't hurt
a fly!"
And then he opened his eyes, and saw the
bear's keeper coaxing the big, unwieldy fellow
along toward his cage with a slice of juicy,
raw beefsteak. And then it dawned upon him
that instead of Felix, the fierce, it was only
old Bruce, who was perfectly harmless!
But it didn't seem to make any difference
at all to mother when he told her the story
of his fright. As Wallie said afterward, she
hugged him quite as hard as if it had really
been Felix. And because it was only Bruce,
who wouldn't have hurt him for anything, he
couldn't quite understand why there were
tears in her eyes.-S. S. Advocate.

Let us be careful not to lose any day out
. of those that are given us in which to journey

(By Emilie Donehower.)

"Run away, ole Massa Trubble,
We will hab you heah no mo'."

The quaint words, sung by a sweet, child-
ish voice, floated through the open windows
into the room where I was lying, half asleep.
I had just arrived at the farmhouse where I
expected to spend my vacation, and, after un-
packing my belongings, had decided to take
a nap. But the singing had dispelled my
drowsiness, and coming to the conclusion that
I was not very tired after all, I determined to
rise and explore my new surroundings.
Guided by the child's voice, I made my
way to the back of the house, where I came
upon a most attractive picture. Seated on a
flight of steps which led down from the vine-
clad porch was a fascinating little darkey peel-
ing apples into a shiny tin dish-pan. Her bare,
brown feet were swinging beneath the hem of
her little blue-checked dress, and her face lit
up with a broad smile of welcome as I ap-
proached. Rising respectfully to her feet she
said: "I'se Cynthy, missy. Kin I do anything
fo' you?"
"Why, yes, Cynthy," I said, sitting down
on the lowest step. "You might sing for me;
I am very fond of singing."
Cynthy bared two splendid rows of white
teeth in a flashing smile as she answered:
"Laws, missy! Does you really want to heah
me sing? I sho' will be proud to oblige you."
It was a pleasant little concert that Cynthy
gave that afternoon to a small but appreciative
audience. She knew my old favorites, "Chillen,
get on board," "Swing low, sweet chariot,"
and she sang them in a voice as sweet and true
as a bird's. Between times, she favored me
with choice bits of her personal history. I
learned that this was her first place, that she
had been here only a week and that she was
very anxious to give satisfaction. Carrie, the
last girl to fill the place, had just been sent
away, leaving a bad record behind her. Cynthy
informed me that "That Carrie-she achully
sassed old missis, right to her face. I'll never
do no sech a thing," continued Cynthy virtu-
ously. "My mammy taught me better than that,
how to behave to my w'ite folks. My mammy
she lived at one place fo'teen years and she
never quah'led with her' w'ite folks." I agreed
with Cynthy that this was a fine record, and
urged her to do as well.
She was a willing little worker, and her
chief fault seemed to be too keen a sense of


humor. When she waited on the table she
took a lively interest in the conversation, and
when it took a funny turn, she was apt to
break into irrepressible chuckles. (Jnce, in-
deed, she so far forgot herself as to exclaim,
"Oh Miss Isabel, you's just scand'lous." But
those were early days, and before the summer
was over she was as quiet and decorous a little
handmaiden as one would wish to see.
One day I brought out my camera and
asked her to sit for me just as I had seen
her that June afternoon. She was quite will-
ing to pose, but she was horrified at the idea of
having her picture taken when she was bare-
footed and in her kitchen frock. To please
her I agreed to take two pictures, one as I
wished and one as she wished. The latter
was a nightmare rather than a work of art,
but Cynthy admired it immensely. She dressed
for the occasion in her Sunday best, a huge
plaid adorned with the biggest buttons ever
manufactured; her pretty bare feet and ankles
were disguised in clumsy shoes and stockings,
and her little face almost invisible under the
huge, flapping brim of her best and only hat.
I finished several copies of this portrait for
her to distribute among her friends, and to
show her gratitude she asked me to accompany
her home on her next afternoon out and re-
ceive the thanks of. her mother. The little
cabin which Cynthy called home was hidden in
the woods about a mile distant from the farm-
house. Here Cynthy's mammy and her aunt
Lucindy lived together with their husbands
and families; one had seven children and the
other five. The place seemed to be swarming
with children, both inside and out, but the two
mothers, it appeared, had gone to help out a
sick neighbor with her washing. The oldest
girl was tending the youngest child, and the
others looked out for themselves. I had
brought my camera with me, and proposed that
I should photograph the youngsters in a
group. It was easier said than done; the
children had vague but awful conceptions of
sitting for one's picture; they regarded it
.as a painful operation in the -ame class with
vaccination and tooth-pulling. It took con-
siderable coaxing and some threats to round
up the party, but we were assisted by the two
fathers, who had taken advantage of their
wives' absence +o indulge in a "day off" and
who now joined the group. At last all was
ready; a look of awful solemnity spread over
every face, and I pressed the button. "All
done," I cried, and filled with joy that the
-dreaded ordeal had proven so easy, and so
soon over, the little ones broke ranks and
fled into the woods like rabbits.

It seemed wonderful to me that two such
large families should be able to live in harmony
in such a tiny dwelling; but Cynthy assured me
that they never quah'l. My mammy and
Aunt Lucindy do sho'ly think a heap of each
other," she said.
That is the secret, after all, I thought, as
we turned homeward. Happiness and content
may be enjoyed, even in the midst of very hard
surroundings, if there is only love enough to
go round, and make the hard things easy.
As the summer wore on I was more and
more impressed by the childlike trust and con-
fidence of Cynthy and her family. They
seemed to live as simply and naturally as the
birds, and like the birds they always had
enough for the day's needs, though they had
no grain laid up in store-houses. When Aunt
Lucindy's husband dropped an ax on his foot,
and was brought home bleeding and disabled,
I wondered how she would be able to provide
for her little brood of seven hungry children.
"What will you do?" I asked despairingly.
"Who is going to take care of you now?"
"Laws, Miss Isabel, I ain't a-worryin',"
she answered cheerfully. "De good Lord
allus hes taken keer of us, and I 'spect he allus
will. Besides, I can't spare time to worry
just now; I'se got to git dish yere man on
his feet again."
September found me in the city again ready
for hard work; but I tried to carry with me
something of the simple, childish faith I had
learned from my humble friends, and when
the clouds of despondency gather around me,
I often manage to dispel them by humming
Cynthy's brave little song,
"Run away, ole Massa Trubble,
We will hab you heah no mo'."


A gentleman was standing in a large bar-
rel factory, watching the man who. inspects
the barrels just before they are started down
the inclined plane to the shipping rooms.
The gentleman put his eye to the hole in one
of the barrels. All was as black as pitch
within, "Here," said the inspector, pushing
him aside, and putting the little electric lamp
through the hole. "Now look." He did, and
the inside of the barrel was as light as the
day. Every joint and irregularity was as plain
as could be. The visitor went away feeling
that we never know what sin there is in our
hearts until Jesus holds the light.




The Girl Who Coveted.
T is an awful story. And yet it is very valuable. Think of a girl asking
for the head of a man isn't that awful? But it's true. That's the
worst thing about it.
Of course she wasn't a good girl. She lived among a bad people. It
all happened at a big party. There was dancing, and drinking, too, we
may be sure. And such places are bad for any girl. She danced and she
danced so well that the man who gave the party said he would give her
anything she asked for, even the half of his kingdom. For he was a king.
Oh, how the girl got excited. She hurried to her mother to ask her what
she should get from the king. And there is where the awful thing came
from. The mother, who was a wicked woman, hated a good man who was
now in jail. He had done her no wrong. He had only told the man she
lived with, the king, the truth about his and her wickedness. And so this
mother had in her heart this desire to kill this good man who was now
in jail, John the Baptist. And now was her chance. She told her daughter
what to ask for his head on a platter. And she did.
That's the way the desires of the mother get into the hearts of their
boys and girls. We hope none of our readers have a mother like that; but
there are many boys and girls in heathen lands and in our own country
who teach their children to desire things that are foolish, that are wrong.
There are mothers who teach their children to love big parties and fine
dressing and dancing and other things, too. And that makes the boys and
girls foolish and wicked.
What does the Catechism teach us about these things?
Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his man-servant, nor his
maid-servant, nor his cattle, nor anything that is his.
"Lamb of God, I look to Thee;
Thou shalt my example be;
Thou art gentle, meek and mild,
Thou wert once a little child.
"Fain I would be as Thou art,
Give me Thy obedient heart
Thou art pitiful and kind;
Let me have Thy loving mind."



The wagon was heavily laden with great
bags of meal, too heavy for a single horse to
draw, one would have thought.
It turned into a side street, and half-way
down the block again turned into an alley
at the rear of a livery stable. It required
considerable tugging on the part of the horse
to pull the load up the incline of the alley
driveway, but he did it, and the driver looked

round to the back of the truck and pulled.
"Back!" he commanded. The horse put every
muscle to the strain. "Back!" The wagon
moved, this time at least a foot. Two more,
and the back wheels would be over the thresh-
old of the barn door. "Back!" The command
moved the horse to exert his greatest effort.
There was a crunch of splintering wood, and
the wagon rolled back. Not a blow had been
struck the animal. Only gentle words had
been spoken, and the horse had done the rest-


Railway between Joppa and Jerusalem
Railway between Joppa and Jerusalem.

pleased when the back wheels had made the
rise and settled down to level ground.
At the barn door it was necessary to turn
the wagon round completely and back in.
Surely one horse could not do that. The
turn was made easily enough, but there the
wagon remained.
"Back him up, Jim!" said the man, pulling
lightly at the reins.
The horse braced his forefeet and shoved,
but the wagon didn't move.
The man got down from the seat and went

And when it was all over the man did not
go on unloading the wagon, without a further
thought of the great, obedient animal stand-
ing still between the shafts. He went to him
and took his nose in his hands and patted him
between the eyes, and said: "Good old Jimr
You did do it, didn't you? I knew youth
And the horse rubbed his nose against the
man's cheek.
It is pleasant now and then to see such


Mandan, N. D.
Dear Editor:-
As I have not written to the Children's
Companion before, I will now try and send
in a few words. I am thirteen years old, I
have one brother and one sister living, and
two brothers dead. I go to Sunday school
every Sunday. I am in the "Forklaring",
and my teacher's name is Mr. Killand, and
our pastor's name is Rev. 0. G. Belsheim.
As I don't want to take up too much room
in the Children's Companion I will close.
Your Companion reader,
Florance Raymond Olson.
Thank you, Florance. Next time tell us
about your Sunday school.
Mandan, N. D.
Dear Editor:-
As I have not written to the Children's
Companion before I thought I would write
now. I am twelve years old. I am in the
sixth grade in the public school. I have a
very good teacher. I attend Sunday school
as promptly as I can. My teacher's name is
Mr. Killand, and our pastor's name is Rev.
0. G. Belsheim. I like him very much. I
will close for this time, hoping to see this
brief article in the Children's Companion.
Your Companion reader,
Archibold Olson.
Here it is, Archibold. Thank you for
Oconomowoc, Wis.
Dear Editor:-
I thought it would be interesting for some
of the readers to hear from Oconomowoc. I
attend Sunday school at our Savior's Nor-
wegian Lutheran church of which Rev. C.
Thompson is pastor. I have found the
Scripture passage which Agnes Peterson gave
the Companion readers to find in Rev. 3:10o.
With best wishes, from
Alvina Solveson.
Thank you, Alvina. It is easy to read
what you write and such a good writer should
:know that for the printer always write only
on one side of the paper.
Salinas, California.
Dear Editor:-
I have not written to the Companion Circle
before, so I thought I would write now. I
go to the Danish Lutheran Sunday school.
There are seven in my Sunday school class,
five girls and two boys. I have three sisters
and two brothers. I am eleven years old and
am in the fifth grade. My teacher's name is
Miss Bottcher. There are four in my class.
'I live about two miles out of town. We have
a nice home and a quite large ranch. I will

close, wishing all the Companion readers a
very Happy New Year. Your Companion
Reader, Elsine R. Nissen.
Thank you very much for your letter! We
are pleased to see that our little paper is read
far out in California. We are glad to note
that you have a Lutheran Sunday school
there too. Let us hear from you again.
Burbank, S. D.
Dear -Editor:-
As I have not written to the Children's
Companion before I shall try to write a few
lines. I have found the Bible verse the read-
ers were to find, as follows: "Because thou
hast kept the word of My patience I also will
keep thee from the hour of temptation which
shall come upon all the world, to try them
that dwell upon the earth." Revelation 3:10o.
And I will send a question also. By what
boy was it said: "Speak, Lord, for Thy servant
heareth." And where is it to be found? We
have vacation from Sunday school, but it will
soon start again. My Sunday school teacher's
name is John Jaeger. My teacher's name in
public school is Gara Sveeggen. I have three
sisters; their names are Hilda, Clara, and
Cora. I am eleven years old. As my letter
is getting long I will stop for this time. With
best wishes from Mabel Olson.
Pleased to hear from you, Mabel. Glad
to note that you are interested in learning les-
sons from the Bible. Things that you learn
that way you will always remember. Write
Muskegon, Mich.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
This letter which we are now writing is for
a certain purpose, which is to increase the
interest of Bible reading. Since we have
found the Bible verse, "Because thou hast
kept the word of My patience I also will
keep thee from the hour of temptation which
shall come uoon all the world to try them
that dwell on the earth," in the Revelation
of John 3:10. We will send another which
reads, "Be ye also patient; establish your
hearts: for the coming of the Lord draweth
nigh." We hope all the Companion readers
will search the Holy Bible to find it, and we
are sure you will find it very interesting to
search this wonderful book. We also hope
that we will all be prepared for the day when
the Lord does draw nigh. With best wishes,
we remain, Companion readers,
Sarah and Russel Olsen.
Thank you, Sarah and Russel, for your
letter! See you are interested in Bible study
and find it profitable. Indeed it is. We hope
your example will stimulate others also to
search the Scriptures.



(By Elizabeth Tristram.)

A great many boys and girls have the idea
that the Indians are a migratory people, that
is, that they are continually on the move, be-
cause that is the kind of Indians your his-
tories and story books say Columbus found
when he discovered America. But there are
Indians in our country whose ancestors lived
in the same villages these Indians live in to-
day, centuries before Columbus saw our
shores, who live in the same kind of houses,
eat the same kind of food, who have not even
changed the style of their sleeves, and who
do not hunt nor fish, for they have no forests
nor streams.
They are the Pueblo Indians of the
Southwest. To the Pueblos belong many
tribes, but I am going to tell you now of the
Zuni Indians, who may or may not be de-
scendants of the Cliff Dwellers. The reason
I call them "Children of the Sun" is not only
because they live in almost perpetual sunshine,
but because they are sun-worshippers.
To reach this quaint little village of Zuni
we will go first to Albuquerque, N. M., and
from there to Wingate, very near the Arizona
line. From there we go to Fort Wingate,
and then follow the old trail over the rugged
range of Zuni Mountains, from the summit
of which we get a wonderful view of the
mountains of New Mexico and Arizona.
Away off in the distance we see an im-
mense ship with all sails spread, yet we know
that there is no large body of water in this
section. Then we are told that it is not a
ship but an immense rock called Ship Rock,
perhaps fifty miles away. We see, too, the old
Navajo Church, which is another great rock
rising to the height of several hundred feet,
like the spires of a cathedral.
Away off to the southward stretches a val-
ley, narrow and crooked, and closely embraced
by mountains. It is a grim and listless desert,
nothing but sand and sagebrush can we see;
yet the Zunis have lived here for centuries,
happy and contented. They have plowed the
ground with crooked sticks, as did the old
Egyptians in the time of Joseph, and have
watered it by digging ditches from the springs.
They have planted their corn and watched
their herds of sheep, and goats, and burros
grazing upon this barren land, eating the

gramma grass, which is very nutritious, and a
more contented people can nowhere be found.
They have remedies for all their ailments,
and when they find that medicine is useless
they submissively lie down and die. Where
did these people come from? If we could an-
swer that we should make ourselves famous,
for it is a question which scientists have been
trying to solve for years. Where did any of
the Indians come from? Did they cross the
Bering Strait from Asia? That has been the
belief for a long time, but now it has been
almost proven that instead of Asia peopling
America, America peopled Asia, and it may be
that this country which we call new is really
one of the oldest. It is sometimes thought
that the irrigating ditches of our Western
States are something identical with the past
century, but hundreds of years ago the Zuni
Indians watered their lands in this way. Per-
haps you do not all know that in our Western
states there are hundreds of miles of ground
which is capable of raising almost anything
if it had water. So from a river they dig
-litches. and from the large ditches they dig
smaller ones, and then all around and through
a field the ranchman digs small trenches, and
when they wish to water the land they un-
lock the gates and the water overflows the
The town of Zuni is a collection of mud
huts. They are built of adobe, or sun-dried
clay. These huts are built one above an-
other and are entered by means of ladders,
so that if a pueblo is seven stories high, the
Zuni who lives on the first floor must go
up seven stories on the outside and down
seven stories on the inside to get to his room.
At night they pull the ladders up and shut
the trap-doors over the openings in the roof.
You would be surprised to see how nimbly
they go up and down these ladders. A squaw
will carry a large jar of water on her head
up and down the ladders and never spill a
drop. The babies learn to climb them as soon
as they can walk, and even the dogs run up
and down as nimbly as squirrels. The walls
of some of these houses are seven and eight
feet thick, and when you consider that the
sundried adobe ha.s the same wearing qual-
ities as stone, you will not wonder that these
buildings have stood here all these years.
Their ovens are on the roofs. These, too,
are made of mud, and a fire is placed in them
until the mud is heated. Then the fire is
taken out and the bread baked in the oven.
The name for their bread is he-we (ha-wa)
and is made in this way. In every pueblo will
be found bins along the wall. These have
slanting stone bottoms worn smooth as glass,


and at each bin an Indian girl kneels with a
bar of stone in her hand. With this she
crushes the corn or other grain. The first
girl grains it awhile, then passes it on to the
next bin, so that by the time it reaches the
last bin it is as fine as flour. It is then mixed
with a little water, forming a smooth paste
which is spread on hot stones. This bakes
the bread in thin layers, and several of these
layers are placed together and rolled. These
rolls are dipped in mutton broth and eaten.
The Zunis keep large flocks of sheep, and
with each flock they keep one or more goats,
because where one sheep goes the rest will
follow, and as a goat is more daring and sure-
footed, he will lead the way over dangerous
places where the sheep would fear to venture.
Another dainty dish with the Zunis is
roasted locusts. The locusts are soaked over
night and in the morning are roasted over
the hot fire.
The town of Zuni is in the shape of a
hollow square, the center being the plaza. In
fact, you will find that most of the Mexican
and New Mexican houses, as well, are built
not with the yard in front, as ours are, but
the yard or court is in the middle of the
house, that is, the house is built all around
the patch of ground where they have flowers
and fountains, and called the placeta. When
you enter a Zuni hut the owner will imme-
diately take your hand and breathe upon it,
which is his way of saying that he gives you
that which is most valuable to him-his breath.
Is it true that the Indian squaws have all
the hard work to do, while the braves sit
around and smoke and fish? Not with the
Zunis. The men of this tribe do. the men's
work and the women weave blankets and
make pottery.
The Indian parents are very tender and
affectionate toward their children. They use
no corporal punishment, but once a year
frightening the children into good behavior.
Horrible looking characters, supposed to be
goblins, make the round of the village, to
devour naughty boys and girls, and the par-
ents pretend to hide the little ones away from
the monsters.
The Zunis are a very religious people, but
they are heathen. Perhaps there are no peo-
ple on earth whom missionaries find so hard
to convert as the Indians. They are idolaters,
and though they have in a measure adopted the
Catholic religion, the cross is to them but
another idol and they worship it as they do
other gods. The only way of reaching them is
through their children. If they can be taken

from the parents and placed in a school where
they live and are taught as white children are,
they will give up their own religion, but it is
next to impossible to change the ideas of the
adult Indian.
In 1882 a man by the name of Frank Cush-
ing went to Zuni to live with the inhabitants and
find out more about them than -was then
known. He adopted their style of dress, ate
their food, and really became one of them.
The next year to give them a better idea of this
country he brought several of them back to
Washington with him and took them to Bos-
ton, where they might fill their sacred gourds,
from the Ocean of the Sunrise, as they call
the Atlantic. These people worship the ocean,
and they do not eat fish or anything that lives
in the water. They had a most wonderful visit
in the East and, when the governor was asked
what of all he saw impressed him most, he
said: "The ease with which the white man
can get water. Why, the white man takes the
water into the walls of his house and by
just turning a little iron stick he gets that for
which we pray all our lives." And in speaking
of the people in the streets of Chicago he said
that there were so many it gave him thoughts,
meaning that it bewildered him. When Cush-
ing went to Zuni he found among them this
account of the Americans: "A strange and un-
known people are the Americans, and in a
strange and unknown land they dwell. It is
said that they are white with short hair, and
that they touch not food with their fingers,
but eat with fingers and knives of iron, and
talk much while eating."-S. S. Advocate.

Te Cilhbrtn'. Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark, Illinois
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Address all business communications to
Entered at the post office at Minneapolis, Minn., as
second-class matter.


"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."

Vol. XX. Sunday, March x6, 1913. No. ii.

(By William H. Hamby.)

"Suppose we get forty dollars for her?"
suggested Calvin Dill, enthusiastically.
"We can't, though." John Wilks shook his
head. "Thirty will be a good price."
"She is a fine young cow," argued Calvin,
"and she gives about two gallons of milk a day

them an orphan calf. The boys, who were
close neighbors and churns, had raised the
calf in partnership, and now were selling milk.
But so many people in the village owned cows
it was difficult to lind a market for milk, and
they had decided to sell the cow.
"What are you going to do with your
half?" asked Calvin, thinking of the thirty dol-

Father, keep me all day long
From all hurtful things and wrong;
Make me Thine obedient child,
Make me loving, gentle, mild. Amen.

-we got nearly a gallon and a half tonight."
"Yes," assented John, "but there are lots
of cows that give four or five gallons of milk
a day. We will do well to get thirty dollars
for her."
The boys had just been to the pasture at
the edge of the village to milk their cow.
Two years before Calvin's uncle had given

"Well, for one thing," answered John, "I
am going to have a bicycle."
"And I am going to have a shotgun," said
Calvin. "Pa says I may hunt rabbits next
And then they named one after another
things they wanted to buy-knives and harps
and banjos and sleds and flags and boats-


until it would have taken a whole drove of
cattle to buy them all. ,
"Hello, fellows," Howard Mason had seen
themin corning and waited at the corner. Howard
was president of the King City Boys' Bible
Class, an organized Sunday school class of
nineteen boys, Both John and Calvin were
"Is your milk sold?" Howard asked, when
they .caine up with their pail.
"Only two quarts of it," replied John.
"Tlhere is about a gallon that is not."
V"Will you deliver it anywhere in town?"
*"'., spoke up Calvin, readily. "We'd
deliver it anywhere this side the county line
if we could only sell it,"
Iloward took out two dimnes, "Take it
down to Murphy's,"
There was a large family of the Murphys
ten in nil. They lived in a little two-room
house up by the railroad, near the edge of
town, The oldest of the children, Mary, was
only :it.ci,. and Charles, the next, was oply
thirteen, He was a member of the boys' class.
His father worked on the section and his dollar
and forty cents a day was all the family had for
food and clothes and rent.
The children--it looked nearly like a Sun-
day school pienic-were playing about the
yard. The boys spoke to Charles, and then
went to the dor.
h,,'s some milk," John said, a little em-
%%:,Il bless your hearts, boys," Mrs.
Murphy exclaimred, gratefully. "How kind of

-L were scarcely out of the yard when
there was a rush of children into the house.
The boys exchanged quick, ..i ifi.,i glances.
"Must have been hungry," remarked Cal-
f* nodded, iy look about half starved
mUst of the time."
"She thanked us." Calvin suddenly remem-
bermed, 'We ought to have told her who sent
"I didn't think of it said John. "But I
tell y o _owippo.c we give Howard back his
monay, aad it will e we whrio gave it to her."
suggested Calvinz; '[. keep the
mnisey anmd take her another hbucieketful to-
mwrrow night),
I. the mtantime li Howard had gone home
and told his mother what he had done that
"Thes.e poor kids sure look hungry, mother.
and I don't wonder at it., Mr, Murphy works
rIal hard, hut he doa't make more than thirty

dollars a month, counting out days he is off;
and that don't go very far, where there are so
many. Why, it must take an awful lot of
truck for all of them. We eat a good deal, and
there are only four of us, and just think what
a lot ten would eat three times a day!"
"If they only had a cow of their own," said
Mrs. Mason, "the milk and butter would fur-
nish nearly half their living. But I guess
the poor man just cannot get ahead enough
to buy one."
.Howard went to bed studying about the
Murphys. He thought a great deal of Charley
and had been to the house several times. It
always hurt him to think of people being
hungry and not having enough to eat-es-
pecially little folks. "If they only had a cow
of their own," came running through his head.
Then it occurred to him that John and Calvin
wanted to sell theirs. She was just the cow
for the Murphys, too. After that he tried to
study out some way in which the money could
be raised.
The next morning he was at the corner
when John and Calvin came by with their
"Say, boys," he asked, "what do you ask
for your cow?"
The boys put down their milk pails and
sat down on the edge of the walk to dis-
cuss it.
"I guess we would take thirty dollars," John
finally said.
"Would you take anything but money?"
asked Howard.
"We'd take anything that's as good as
money," replied John, "if we could get it at a
bargain-anything we could trade on." He
was quite a trader.
And first one and then the other kept nam-
ing things he would like to have, until Howard
had a long list.
He went away, then, without saying any-
thing more, and left them wondering what he
was up to,
For the next two weeks Howard was busy
interviewing the members of the class. Some
of them had to be persuaded: some he argued
with. but most of them were instantly in favor
of the plan.
Then, Saturday afternoon, he sent for
Calvin and John to come over to his house.
They found most of the class there; and
in the corner of the yard, with boxes and
planks for counters, was arranged a great
display of boy possessions.
"What is l-i said Calvin, grinning. "A
second-hand store or a runimmage sale?"


"Both," answered Howard, smiling. "You
see the boys got the notion they wanted to buy
your cow and give her to Murphys. None
of us have any money to speak of, but we
have put in something here that we can spare.
"Now, we don't want you fellows to knock
off anything nor pay a cent more than the
stuff is worth. But if you find anything here
you want and we can agree on the price, it
will go in on paying for the cow."
There were things they wanted-lots of
them, for both John and Calvin were good
traders and had a keen scent for bargains.
There was a bicycle that Harry Martin had
brought. It was a good one and had cost
twenty-five dollars only the year before. But
recently Harry's uncle, who was rich, had
given him a newer model, and he had put the
other one in the sale at ten dollars. John
finally took it at eight-proud of his bargain.
Billy Harvey had brought a shotgun. It
was a good one, cost ten dollars and was as
good as new, but the last Christmas some of
his relatives had given him a new rifle, and
he did not care much for the shotgun-so he
had put it in at eight dollars. Calvin took it
-and was glad to-at six.
There were over twenty-five articles all
together that had been donated, and out of the
lot the boys selected fourteen that they really
wanted-and got them at a bargain. When
they figured up the things bought at the price
agreed on, they came to thirty-four dollars.
There was a little doubt what to do about the
difference-neither of the two boys wanted
to give up any of the things he had picked
"I'll tell you," said Calvin, suddenly re-
membering. "We have paid two months'
pasture rent in advance. Just let the four
dollars go on that and they won't have to pay
anything for a while. And we have five
bushels of corn left over from last winter, and
we will give them that as our share."
That suited the boys exactly.
And as the class insisted, and the two boys
were more than willing, that evening John and
Calvin drove their fine young cow down to
the Murphys' farm. Howard and the other
boys hovered in the distance to watch.
All the little Murphys came running out to
see what was up an Mrs. Murphy came to
the door.
"We-" started John, and stopped, unable
to think what to say.
Calvin started to speak, and also got em-
barrassed and forgot, but rallied and said, im-
pulsively, pointing to the cow:

"The-the-Bi-Bible Boys give her to
Mrs. Murphy's face flushed with the happy
surprise, and then she turned quickly away
and put her apron to her eyes. But just as
the boys handed the rope by which the cow
was led over to Charles and started away, she
came back to the door and called:
"God bless you, boys!"
"How did she take it?" asked the other
boys, when John and Calvin came up.
"Oh, all right," said John, speaking care-
lessly as though he had not been dabbing at
his own eyes. "She seemed to think she's a
pretty good cow."-S. S. Advocate.


A young lady one day went to her pastor
and placed on his desk a brass box. A card
was pasted on the lid, bearing the inscription,
"It costs only- ."
She asked him to open the box; he found
it filled with greenbacks and when he counted
them, the result was $300.
Thereupon she told him to take the whole
pile of notes and spend it all for objects of
charity. He looked at her wonderingly, for
he knew her family, although wealthy, was
not known for being charitably inclined.
The young lady answered his silent ques-
tion this way, "I like to go shopping and to
look at nice things. Father provides me with
plenty of pin-money and I may spend as much
as I please. Up to last Christmas I never
left a store without having bought something.
Bargain sales were my specialty, as it is with
many other well-to-do people. The legend,
'This article costs only $- today,' had a
peculiar attraction for me. Last Christmas,
however, I do not know what suddenly moved
me to say to myself, 'You are foolish,: my
dear, to spend your money for things you
really do not need. There is a better way to
get rid of your dollars; give them to those
who are poor and needy.' When I got home,
I emptied my purse into this box and fastened
that card on it. And from that day on until
now I put my shopping money into the box
before I went downtown. I still look at the
nice things in the show-windows, but the de-
sire to buy them has gone. I am glad I now
know of a better way to spend money. Now
let me have my box again; I shall bring it to
you from time to time."
She is doing it, for she is tasting the sweet-
ness of charity.-Sweet Charity.



What Difference Does It Make?

TO the children, we mean, if the parents love God and keep His com-
mandments or if they don't do so?
Do you remember the story of the Flood, the Deluge? Don't you
think we can tell there what difference it makes? How was it so many,
many children were destroyed? Why were the sons of Noah saved in the
ark? On account of their fathers. God found only Noah, when He looked
around among the fathers, the one pleasing to Him. There was so much
wickedness. It made the Lord feel bad. But He found this one father
and told him to build the ark. And He told him to go into it and take
his sons with him. That made a difference to them, didn't it? And it al-
ways does. For God has said He could bless the children of those who
love Him and keep His commandments. We see He did so to the sons of
But think of the many, many boys and girls who were destroyed in the
flood. Why? Because they had fathers who hated God and didn't keep
His commandments. It seems awful. It is sad, very sad. We know God
loves all children. We remember in the story of Jonah how glad God was
the fathers repented of their sins. He thought of the 120,000 little children
in the city of Nineveh and was glad the fathers were sorry for their sins.
For then He could save these children, too. But when the fathers hate
God, don't care for His commandments, then they bring suffering on their
children. So it makes a difference.

What does the Catechism teach us about these things?
"I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the
fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them
that hate me; and showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me and
keep my commandments."

"The Law of God is good and wise,
And sets His will before our eyes;
Shows us the way of righteousness,
And dooms to death when we transgress.'



Mamma expected company, and Ella was
very much excited. "Let me help to get
ready," cried Ella.
"Very well; you may dust the sofa."
"Oh, mamma! you always say, 'Dust the
sofa,' and that is such a little thing."
"And do you always dust it nicely?"

back. Ella stood on the seat and wiped the
dust all off of that. Really the sofa looked
After awhile Auntie Sue came. She kissed
mamma, then Ella, and then took off her
things and laid them on the spare room bed.
When they were seated in the parlor Auntie
said, "How neat you always look here, sister.
That sofa, now, how thoroughly it is dusted."

All Interested.

"Oh!-well-maybe not nicely."
"Suppose you dust it just as well as you
possibly can for Auntie Sue today."
Ella tried. There were four legs, and each
one had some little shelves upon it. Ella
dusted each one of these. Then there was a
little fancy piece of wood work under the
middle of the seat with five holes in it. Ella
put a little stick over the duster and worked
till they were all clean. Then there was a
big wood work flower with leaves on the high

"Ella did it," said mother smilingly.
"You, Ella? Why, it is beautifully done!
If I only had a little girl to do such work for
Ella looked into mamma's bright face and
felt so proud.
"Mamma," she said, when they were alone
again, "I'm going to do things right after
"You might try on the little things first,"
said mamma.-Mayflower.


Stoughton, Wis.
Dear Companion Readers:-
.1 have written to the Companion before,
but I will write again. I am twelve years old.
I go to Sunday school every Sunday. My
teacher's name is J. Aatland. My pastor's
name is Rev. J. J. Lee. I like my Sunday
school teacher because he explains our Bible
History lessons so that we understand them.
I read in Bible History and "Forklaring". I
have one sister. She is eight years old. I will
have to close, hoping to see my letter in print
soon. Your Companion reader,
Esther Klaboe.
Thank you for your letter, Esther! Here
it is in print. We aregreatly pleased to hear
of your interest in the Sunday school, espe-
cially that you like so well to understand your
lessons .and therefore appreciate your teach-
er's efforts. Wish all our teachers could make
the lessons interesting and plain.
** *
Chicago, Ill.
Dear Editor:-
I am a girl ten years old. I am in the fifth
grade in public school. In Sunday school I
read the Bible History and "Forklaring". My
Sunday school teacher's name is Laura John-
son. There is one girl in our class who is
sick, I hope the Lord will make her well.
Our pastor's name is Rev. H. A. Hansen. Our
superintendent's name is Mr. Blix. I hope
my letter will not reach the waste basket.
Regards to the editor. Your Companion
reader, Georgia Morken.
Your letter escaped the waste basket,
Georgia. Glad to hear from you. You have
a large Sunday school and might have told
us something more about it. What is your
Sunday school doing for missions for in-
stance? Does your Sunday school support
any missionary, native worker, or child on the
mission field? We hope some Sunday school
where they do this will tell us what they do,
and how they do it. Perhaps you will tell us
that next time.
Wittenberg, Wis.
Dear Friends:-
As I have been requested to write another
.letter telling about'the orphans' home I shall
try to do so now. We came here on the 2nd
of November, 1911, so we have been here a
little over a year, and we like it quite well.
At present we have 87 children, but expect
more. At the last meeting of the Board of
Directors twelve more children were admitted
to the home. We expect them between now
and New Year. We have two very good
teachers. Miss Berner has charge of the
lower room, from kindergarten up to fifth
grade; Miss Eliasen from fifth grade and up.
We are a class of eleven in eighth grade. We
have one hour and fifteen minutes in religion

each day, and every evening we meet in the
school room for study hour. We are get-
ting ready for an entertainment that is to be
given Friday evening, Dec. 20th, which con-
sists of dialogues, a play, a drill and music.
We expect to take up a collection which will
be the foundation of a piano fund, as we would
like very much to have a piano in the upper
school room. Many of the pupils have a talent
for music, both instrumental and vocal, and
would do well if encouraged, so we hope our
friends will bear this in mind and assist us
in this good work. We are also preparing for
a Christmas program, as we expect to have
a Christmas tree. The mill pond is frozen
over now, and we enjoy the good skating.
We have a little snow, so we hope to have
sleighing before long. We had a great deal
of sickness here last winter, but now we are
all well and pray the Lord will keep us so.
With best wishes to the editor and readers
of the Children's Companion, I remain yours,
Esther J. Wang.
That was interesting, Esther. We are glad
to know about our Homes. That is the only
way our boys and girls can get interested.
And now we would suggest our girls write
to Esther and ask her anything else they may
want to know about the Home.
Westby, Wis.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
I have never written to the Companion be-
fore, so I am going to send you a few lines
from Westby, Wis. I am nine years old and
go to English school and Norwegian Sunday
school. My English teacher is Miss Jessie
Caldwell, and my Norwegian teacher is Mrs.
B. Saugstad. Rev. E. 0. Hofstad' is our
pastor. We are now getting ready for Christ-
mas programs, both in the church and school
house. My sisters, Gwendolyn and Leona,
read in the ABC book, but I study the Cate-
chism and Bible History. Every summer I
spend the vacation with my uncle and grand-
mother, on a farm, near Chaseburg. Hoping
to see my letter in print soon, I will close,
wishing you all a Merry Christmas and Happy
New Year. Your Companion reader,
Alton Grimsrud.
Thank you, Alton, for your kind wishes.
We got them in good season, but we didn't
have room for your letter before.
'I *
Moorhead, Minn.
Dear Editor:-
I am a girl eight years old. I go to school
every day, and my teacher's name is Miss
Erickson, and my Sunday school teacher is
my mama. As my letter is -getting long I will
close with best wishes,
Esther Petterson.
Alright, Esther, thank you. Try again.




Almost anywhere in these days we may
buy a book for ten cents or a quarter, and
we think it too much to pay a dollar for one
book. Yet the time was when if a man wanted
a book he would have to pay fifty or a hun-
dred dollars for it; and farther back no one
but the very richest could have books at all.
Away back many centuries ago, or about
five thousand years ago, a great nation called
the Babylonians had a strange way of mak-
ing their books and a strange material to make
them of. They would take a handful of wet
clay and mold it until it was round, as our
boys make their snowballs; then, while it was
still soft, they would take a sharp stone and
draw a number of pictures upon the mud-ball,
representing the ideas they had in their mind.
They had no nice, graceful letters such as
we use in these days, so the only way they
knew of writing their thoughts was to make
pictures of them.
After they had filled the mud-ball full of
pictures they would place it out in the sun
to dry and become hard. Then they could
send it to their friends or sell it. If the old
Babylonian wanted to say as much as one of
our 3oo00-page books contains he would have to
hire a big truck and two teams of horses or
oxen to carry his book around, so that a
library could not contain more than three or
four of these books.
Out of the same clay these people made
their bricks, built their houses, molded their
pots and plates and cups and saucers, and
toys for the children, as well as their books.
When the Babylonian wrote a letter he
would make the handful of clay into the shape
of a brick or a ball, and after making his
picture-writing upon it he would take another
piece of mud, wrap it around his letter and
put the address to which he wanted it sent
upon it; and his letter was in its envelope
ready to be baked hard and go on its journey.
When the letter was received the envelope
had to be split or cracked away.
Our books, although much cheaper, will
not last nearly so long as those of Babylon.
A book printed upon paper two or three
hundred years old is a very rare and costly
thing in these days; but men digging about

in the ruins of Babylon have found Baby-
lonian clay books and letters more than five
thousand years old, and although they were
written so long ago men have studied their
system of picture-writing, and are now able
to read the letters and books of that early
age.-The Young Soldier.


Times have changed, but human nature
hasn't. What was good for it 2,000 years ago
is good yet.
A layman writing to the Presbyterian
forcefully says:
"For nearly a score of years, official duty
brought me into closer relation with the sub-
merged classes in one of the largest American
cities. Their burden is very heavy; their life
very hard. Though my work was secular, I
became convinced that the greatest need of
these unfortunate people is the Gospel; the
real Gospel. They see sin stripped of all its
disguises, a savage monster ready to destroy
them, and when a preacher goes among them,
saying that sin is only misunderstanding, only
imperfect development, they count him either
a liar or a fool. Their trouble is too serious
for the dainty trifler lisping aesthetic phrases.
They are in desperate need, and want the help
of the strong Son of God.
"The Gospel can do more for the toiling,
suffering masses than free baths, picture gal-
leries., playgrounds and the whole list of
fashionable substitutes. These things have
some value; but it is amazing that any Chris-
tian minister should put his main dependence
upon such subordinate aids when he might
use the greatest Gospel which, in Luther's
time, saved ignorant, drunken Saxony, which
tamed the berserker rage of the Northmen,
which raised the fierce clansmen of Scotland
to the highest plane of civilization."
In line with this is the editorial utterance
of the Wall Street Journal. We don't usually
look to that street for piety and religion, but
evidently the editor sees the drift of things.
Here is what he says:
"What America needs more than railway
extension, and Western irrigation, and a low
tariff, and a bigger merchant marine and a
new navy, is a revival of piety, the kind that
mother and father used to have-piety that
counted in good business to stop for daily
family prayers before breakfast, right in the
middle of the harvest; that quit work a half
hour earlier on Thursday night, so as to get
the chores done and go to prayer meeting.


That's what we need now to clean this coun-
try of the filth of graft, and of greed, petty
and big; of worship of fine houses and big
lands and high office, and grand social func-
tions. What is this thing which we are wor-
shiping but a vain repetition of what decayed
nations fell down and worshiped just before
their light went out? Great wealth never
made a nation substantial nor honorable.
There is nothing on earth that looks good
that is so dangerous for a man or nation to
handle as quick, easy, big money. If you do
resist its deadly influence the chances are that
it will get your son. It takes greater and finer
heroism to dare to be poor in America, than
to charge an earthworks in Manchooria."-The
Young Lutheran.


It is rare that boys take kindly to house-
work, although they make the best of camp
helpers and seem to enjoy cooking when they
can do it in squads so as to make a lark of it.
A contributor to the New York Tribune tells
about a "Newsboys' Home" which is a regu-
lar training school of household tasks of all
In the Chambers Street Newsboys' Home
they are called upon to do nearly all the
work that falls to the lot of the ordinary
household servant-girl. In this establishment
there is a large, clean dormitory, where the
lads may sleep comfortably for five cents a
night, and a good dining-room where cheap
meals are served, but the newsboys must help
keep them in order.
When they are called in the morning after
they have dressed, their first duty is to open
the windows wide and throw the bedclothes
back to air; they must shake their pillows and
place them in the windows. Then they all
march down to breakfast where the night be-
fore they have set their plates, cups and
saucers. Three boys act as waiters, and two
others as assistants to the cook. Baskets of
bread and rolls are passed around. Each
boy helps himself, and then waits for the
signal to begin. There is a coffee-pot of gen-
erous size that a. boy carries about, filling
up the cups, first of the little and then of the
big boys.
After breakfast a great many boys go to
work, but there are always a few left to as-
sist in the daily routine of the housework.
The dishes are washed and wiped. The tables
are set, and the floor is swept, the long
benches being pushed back against the walls.

After the dining-room is swept, the dormi-
tory is cleaned and dusted, and the beds are
made. It is amusing to watch three or four
boys struggling with the bedclothes, and tak-
ing great pains to smooth all the wrinkles
out of the sheets.
There has been another squad of' boys
working on the stairs and in the hall at this
time. They have mops and pails; up and
down the stairs they clean and sweep. In
the gymnasium the floor ihust be mopped and
the clubs and dumb-bells put in order. On
Wednesday the windows are washed. Mon-
day is wash-day. The boys do not do all the
washing, but they help. The water is lifted
by them into the boiler, the clothes are
wrung and hung out on the steam driers, and
one boy turns the mangle while the other
folds the flat pieces. In the evening there is
night school for boys who wish to attend. A
savings-bank has been started, where pennies
from the day's earnings are deposited.

Idolatry impoverishes a people. The
Chinese expend a hundred and fifty millions
a year to secure the favor of departed spirits
(the dead), while the living die of hunger.
In that great empire there are not fewer than
a million temples for idols valued at a bil-
lion dollars in gold; and to maintain these in
their glory keeps the people poor. Two-thirds
of the women of that empire, with a popula-
tion of four hundred millions, are engaged
making shrines and preparing articles used in
ancestral worship. An immense loss to
national industry.-Dr. Newman.

Tbe Ctiilbren'f? Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark, Illinois

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"Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest."
Vol. XX. Sunday, March 23, 1913. No. 12.

"Christ is risen! Hallelujah!
Risen our victorious Head!
Sing His praises! Hallelujah!
Christ is risen from the dead!
Gratefully our hearts adore Him!
As His light once more appears,
Bowing down in joy before Him,
Rising up from grief and tears.

"Christ is risen! Hallelujah!
Risen our victorious Head!
Sing His praises! Hallelujah!
Christ is risen from the dead."




Blessed Easter morning! The most joy-
ous festival observed by the Church. It brings
to uis the message that Christ is no longer in
the tomb. He is risen. He has conquered
death and brought life and immortality to
light. Well may all sadness and gloom be left
behind, when Christ is risen, for it is our Sa-
vior who is risen and who lives and reigns to
all eternity. His resurrection assures us that
He is the Son of God and that by His death
He has fully paid for our sins. By His resur-
rection we get power to rise with Him to
live a holy and pure life-to be like Him even
here. And by the same spirit who raised
Christ from the death we, too, at the last day,
shall be raised and shall be like Him for we
shall see Him as He is. These are some of
the blessed thoughts and lessons which Easter
brings to all who love the dear Savior.-M.

(By Lovina L. Bjornson.)

Hillside Road finds its way from over the
hills on the southern side of the river, rests
for a short distance on the flat land near the
river bank, crosses the bridge over Glenn
River, then winds its way up the long slope
on the northern side, and finally loses itself
in Hill's Wood on the level land above.
The only church that Glenn's Crossing
boasts is located on Hillside Road just before
it turns into the woods.
Newcomers to the little riverside town that
has grown up in the hills cannot understand
why the settlers should have put their little
church seemingly so away to the edge of no-
But Deacon Gray explains it away with:-
"Wal, you see, Glenn's Crossin' is goin' to
grow jest like the wilder trees 'long that river.
Years ago they was small and weak, and didn't
take utip much room, but now they're big and
mighty and gives comfort to any tired soul
what rests in their shade for a big spell 'round.
That's what Glenn's Crossin' is goin' to do-
grow, and give a home and rest to every one
what comes nigh this little town, and fust
thing you know our church will be right in
our midst. And till then we'll keep on goin'
up Hillside Road to church. The road may
be a little hard sometimes but every time we
go it seems that much easier, and its worth
it, stranger, its worth it when you get to the
place at the end o' the road."

Not much education has Deacon Gray, but
his simple words spoken in his simple way
often times carry a message more direct than
any smooth-tongued orator's long-worded ser-
Easter came early that year. With snow
on the ground a foot deep and a frosty tinge
in the air that nipped one's ears and nose, it
was hard to believe that Easter Sunday was
less than two weeks away. Glenn's Crossing
had not in years known such a cold March.
The ice on the river was inches thick, and the
willow trees along its bank seemed to sigh
and cry a.s the wind blew among their stiff,
bare branches.
Within the church all was warm and bright
that Saturday afternoon. The children's
chorus of the Sunday school was rehearsing
the Easter carols to be used at the church
service on Easter Sunday morning.
Miss Gray, the deacon's daughter, was lead-
ing them, and she smiled encouragingly as the
sweet childish voices in perfect harmony sang
the old Easter carols that the children's moth-
ers and grandmothers had sung in their own
childhood. This was to be an "Old Folks''
Easter service, and a surprise, too.
As the afternoon drew to a close the jingle
of bells was heard outside, and Deacon Gray's
big bob-sled drew up to the door.
Coats and caps went on in a hurry, and
soon a bob-sled filled with fifteen children and
Miss -Gray went merrily down Hillside Road.
Each child restored to its own respective
home, Deacon Gray and his daughter reached
home just as the sun went down.
"It's going to be splendid, Daddy," said
Miss Gray. "We're going to help give Glenn's
Crossing an Easter service it will not soon
The days passed swiftly by, and Easter
Morning dawned at last. Clear and bright,
not a bit of snow left on the ground, the ice
in the river breaking up, a promise of Spring
was in the air.
Deacon Gray and his two sons hitched tiup
their three teams of horses and started off a
full hour before time for service at the church.
Four stops for each and their buggies were
full, and they started up Hillside Road.
At the church door Miss Gray and the min-
ister welcomed a dozen grandmas as they en-
tered. Some of them had not been there in
months, years even. The road was too steep
for the aged limbs to climb, the way was too
far for some, others had no one to bring them
and could not go alone, still others no buggy


to go in. The reasons were as many as
grandmas now present.
A short prayer by the minister began the
Easter service, and during the hymn that fol-
lowed his eyes rested fondly on the congre-
gation before him. They had more times than
he could count inspired his sermons by their
simple lives and constancy to the "place at the
end o' the road." Every service found a
goodly congregation present, but today the
church was well near overflowing. A hush of
expectancy was in the room and an air of
waiting for something. A surprise was in store
for them at the Easter service, Deacon Gray
had announced the previous Sunday.
The children's chorus seated on the plat-
form banked with flowers and ferns which had
been gathered from homes throughout the
little town, at a signal from Miss Gray, began
to sing.
The sun shone through the stained glass
window on one side of the church and beams
of vari-colored light spread their magic over
the children and flower-banked platform, and
as the sweet voices sang Easter carols of their
long gone yesterdays the dear old grandmas
almost thought it all a dream; tears glistened
through their smiles.
A word from Miss Gray and the rows of
children formed a semi-circle. As old Grand-
pa Williams came slowly on to the platform
with his violin, stopping in the center of the
semi-circle, the children bowed their heads
and remained so while the old man played.
Many there had heard him play before, but
none had heard him play better. It seemed
like the spirit of Easter itself inspired him
and made the notes of his violin a song im-
mortal, one that seemed to linger in the air
long after the last note had died away.
Again the violin played, the children's
heads raised, and a glad triumphant song of
the victory of Eternal Life over death filled
the room, and ended in one grand "Amen."
The minister took his sermon that morn-
ing from the Book of St. John, and the hearts
of all who heard suffered with Him at the
cross of Calvary, grieved at the tomb, re-
joiced with Him at the Easter Morn resurrec-
tion, and felt the Easter message brought
home to them in a way full of comfort and
hope. In the fulness of light and beauty the
minister's words quoting St. John lingered
with all:
"And many other signs truly did Jesus in
the presence of His disciples, which are not
written in this book. But these are written
that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ,

the Son of God; and that believing ye might
have life through His name."
After the service ended, as Deacon Gray
and his daughter stood waiting outside of th,
church for the grandmas to get ready to leave,
the deacon pointed to where a tiny crocus
blossom had pushed its way through the hard,
cold ground.
"There, daughter," said he, "is one o' Na-
ture's symbols o' the resurrection, and there
are many others."
"I allers felt that no matter how cold-
hearted or cruel a person was, if he'd let
Christ be resurrected in his heart His Spirit
would break through the cold and make that
person's life beautiful and helpful to all who
came in contact with Him."


"Children," said Mr. Brown, "what is my
watch good for?"
"To keep time," the children answered.
"But suppose it can't be made to keep
time, what is it good for?"
"It is good for nothing," they replied.
"And what is this pencil for?"
"To mark with," said the children.
"But suppose it has no lead, and will not
mark, what is it good for?"
"Good for nothing."
"Well," said Mr. Brown, "what is the use
of my knife?"
"To cut," answered the little ones.
"Suppose it has no blade," he asked again,
"then what is the knife good for?"
"Good for nothing."
"Tell me now," said Mr. Brown, "what is
a boy or girl good for?"
"Oh!" cried Willie, "to please God and'live
with Him always in heaven."
"Very well; if a boy or girl does not do
what he or she is made for, what is he or she
good for?"
And the children all answered, without
seeming to think how it would sound: "Good
for nothing."
Dear boys and girls, if you are not seeking
"to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever,"
is it not just as if you were good for nothing?
Dear children, when you go home, please
ask papa and mama what they are good for.
Show them this little story. If they are
not Christians, it may lead them to think
about their souls also. Jesus said: "I am the
Way, the Truth, and the Life; no man cometh
unto the Father but by Me."
-The Christian.



The Story of Three Young Men.
T HEY were far, far away from their own home. They had been stolen
from it. And they were among a people who did not care for God,
the true God, the Maker of heaven and earth. No, they didn't know
much about Him either.
And so it happened the king of the land made a large image of gold
and sent word all over that everybody must worship before this image.
The king got a big band together not far from the image. People came
by crowds. When the band started to play, everybody was to fall down
before the image and worship it. And, if anyone would not do so, he was
to be thrown into a burning fiery furnace.
Now our three young men knew all about these things-the image, the
band, the furnace. But there was one thing more they knew. They did
know God, the Father, that He was mighty and good, and they believed in
Him. And so when the band played, they did not fall down before the
image and pray to it. They were more afraid of doing that than of being
cast into the furnace.
And oh, when the king heard of it he was angry. He sent for them.
He was so angry it was hard for him to speak. Then he asked them if
they really meant it. "I'll let you have another chance. But if you will
not fall down before the image, you shall be cast into a fiery furnace that
very same hour."
SThen the young men spoke up very calmly and said, "We will not.
God can help us. We are His."
Oh, how the king raged. He ordered the furnace made seven times
hotter and then they threw in the three young men. But oh, after a little
you could see them walking around in the furnace and a fourth one with
them, one "like a son of the gods." It was the Lord.
And then the king ordered his men to take out the three young men
and no hurt was found on them.
What does the Catechism teach us about these things?
That "God protects me against all danger, and guards and keeps me
from all evil."
"Praise to the Lord! who o'er all things so wondrously reigneth,
Shelters thee under His wings, yea, so gently sustaineth;
Hast thou not seen,
How thy desires e'er have been
Granted in what He ordaineth?"


i The Day of Resur-
r reaction!
"The day cf Resurrectionr
Earth, tell it out abroad'
The Passover of gladness.
The Passover of God!
From death to Life eternal.
From earth unto the sky.
S Our Christ has brought us ov.'er
SWith hymns of ,',.tory.
a 4



Lanesboro, Minn. Webb, Sask., Can.

Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
I have written a letter before, but will
write-another. I read the Companion letters
every Sunday. I live in a small town. It is
surrounded by hills. I am nine years old and
am in the fifth grade. My teacher's name is
Miss McCarthy. I read in the "Forklaring"
and Bible History in Sunday school, and my
teacher's name is Mrs. Nelson. I like my
teachers very well. Our pastor's name is Rev.
H. E. Rasmussen, and our superintendent's
name is H. E. Glasoe. We are starting to
practice for our Christmas program. We
have a Christmas tree every year. We col-
lect money to send to the orphans. As my
letter is getting rather long I will close. Hop-
ing to see my letter in print. Your Companion
reader, Mabel Skrulkrud.
Do you know how many homes for or-
phans our Church has? And do you know
how many children are there? We are glad
to hear you send money to help them. God
likes that.
*s *
Dear Editor:-
As I have., never written a letter to the
Companion before I though I would write
one now. I go to Sunday school every Sun-
day, and like it fine. I am eight years old,
and I read the catechism. My teacher i Ag-
nes Minne, and I like her very well. I have
twin sisters; their names are Evelyn and Lil-
lie. And I have another sister, her name is
Agnes, and she is three years old. I have
also one brother, his name is Ernest Loraine.
My letter is getting long, so I will close with
best wishes from Helen Sandvig.
Thank you, Helen, for your wishes. We
are glad to get them. And remember us in
your prayers, please.
Mandan, N. D.
Dear Companion Readers:-
As I have never written to the Companion
readers before I will write now. I am four-
teen years old, and in the eighth grade in
school. My teacher's name is Miss Edna M.
Larkin. I go to the Lutheran Sunday school,
and my Sunday school teacher's name is Miss
Sara Morck. We take just the Catechism,
and there are nine in our class. We are now
preparing for our Christmas program. Our
minister's name is Rev. Belsheim. I also go
to the confirmation class on Saturdays, and
there are nine in the class. Hoping to see
my letter in print, I remain your Companion
reader, Lillian Paulson.
Here is your letter, Lillian. And many
thanks. You are very faithful in writing to
us from Mandan. Come again and tell us
about your school.

Grafton, N. D.
Dear Companion Readers:-
As I haven't seen many letters from this
town in the paper, I thought I would write.
I go to the Hauge's Lutheran Sunday school,
and lead the English Catechism. Our pastor's
name is Rev. Jacobson, and our Sunday school
teacher's name is Miss Lollack. We had a
Christmas program, and we spoke speeches
and sang songs. I also am reading for the
minister and will be confirmed in January. I
go to public school, and am in the eighth
grade. There are forty-six boys and girls in
our grade, and eleven children in our Sunday
school. I have four brothers and one sister,
and two of them are confirmed. They also
attend Sunday school. They are in the Bible
class. I think I will close, hoping to see this
in print. Your Companion reader,
Sophus Armon.
Thank you, Sophus. We wish you would
tell us how you do it in your Sunday school.

Dear Editor:-
I will write you a few lines, as I have not
seen any letters from Webb, Sask. I like to
read the "Children's Companion." There
were o10 in our family. Three of my sisters
are dead. I have one brother. I have been
going to Sunday school all summer. I read
in the "Forklaring" and Bible History. I read
for the minister, too. Well, I will close for
this time. Hoping to see my letter in print.
From your Companion reader,
Mina Krislock.
Alright, Mina, here is your letter. What
is "Forklaring" in English?
Dawson, JIinn.
Dear Editor and Companion Readers:-
I have never written to the Companion be-
fore. I am ten years old and I am in the
fifth grade. I have a sister in the eighth grade,
a brother in the sixth grade, and my other
brother is in the third grade. We all go to
Sunday school. My teacher's name is Miss
Olina Stratmoen. We like her very much.
There are eight in my Sunday school class.
Our Sunday school superintendent's name is
Mr. Ness. When all the children are to Sun-
day school there are ninety. We have no min-
ister now but we are expecting our new min-
ister to come soon. I hope he has a girl that
will be in my class. If this letter doesn't go
into the waste-basket I am going to write to
the Norwegian paper too. As my letter is get-
ting long I will close now. Your Companion
reader, Jannette Halvorson.
No, not into the basket, Jannette. We are
glad to hear from you.



A Sunday school superintendent made the
following confession at a county Sunday
school convention:
"I used to smoke. It was a pleasure that
I thought did no harm to me or anyone else,
and I believed I had a right to the enjoy-
ment. Then one day I stopped, and here is
the reason:
"A widowed woman, the mother of two
lively boys in my school, hurried into my
store one morning, walked straight up to me,
and handed me a handful of cigarettes. I
stared, and she explained: 'They dropped
out of Joe's and Billy's pockets a little while
ago, when I was mending their clothes. When
I asked what cigarettes in their pockets
meant, they both owned up to liking cigarettes,
and smoking .them whenever they got a
chance. I talked to them about the hurt it
would do them, and what do you think they
said? They told me they didn't mean to
keep on with cigarettes always. As soon as
they grew bigger, and could earn money, and
afford it, they would change from cigarettes
to cigars. "And cigars are all right," said my
boys. "Good men smoke cigars-lots of them.
Why, ma, Mr. Wilson, our superintendent,
smokes cigars; and Mr. Wilson's sure a good
man, ain't he?"'
"'Mr. Wilson,' went on that mother, 'I'm
doing my best, trying to train my two father-
less boys to be good men, and you've helped
me many a time by the good teaching you've
given them as their superintendent. They
trust you, and admire you, and they think
it's all right for them to smoke, if a good
man like you smokes. I didn't know
what to say or to do; but it seemed best to
come over and tell you plainly exactly how
it was. I feel sure you want to help, and
not to 'hinder, every boy in your school; and
I believe you would be as willing to teach
them by your example as you are to teach
them by your good words.'
"Well, I was wanting a smoke at that
minute; but the thought of that mother try-
ing to grow two boys into two good men,
and being hindered by any habit of mine,
settled the thing. The cigar box that stood
handy went into the stove. 'Tell Joe and
Billy,' I said, 'that Mr. Wilson has quit smok-
ing.' And quit I did. Since that day no boy
has been able to point to my example as his
excuse for smoking cigarettes, or anything
else."-Zillah F. Stevens.



In the first place, I am really both of them,
for Hayat Bibi is just the Junjabi word for
Evelyn. When I was a little baby, and the
women crowded into the tent to see me, they
always wanted to know my name, and they
couldn't say the queer English name, so, by
and by, mamma just translated it, and they
were so glad to here "Hayat Bibi," because
they like that name very much, and can say it.
In the first place, if I had been born in a
native home that was not a Christian, I, a little
girl baby, would have had scant welcome. If
one of my father's Hindu friends had asked
what the baby was, the answer might have
been, "Sammu patthar pai gaya" (we have re-
ceived a stone), or "Kuehd nahin a gaya"
(nothing at all has come), meaning that they
would just as soon have had a stone or nothing
at all as to have a little girl baby. Often the
little Hindu girl babies are quietly killed; and
the Mohammedan ones are often so neglected
that they die. Only this morning Bibi Ji told
mamma about a Mohammedan house where
twin babies came, and the mother just fed all
her milk to the little boy baby-so after a few
days the little girl baby died.
And, then, if I were a nice little Hindu or
Mohanmmedan girl, and were sick, I should
never be brought to a doctor, unless my
parents were very kind, or I was the only girl.
They would not waste money buying medicine-
for a girl baby. They might tie some tawits.
(charms) around my neck, or on my wrists.
and arms and legs, and if the chicken's blood,
or the knotted horsehair tied up in a very,.
very dirty rag, or the little brass box with a
paper containing a sentence from the "Koran"
written on it, did not cure me, they would think
that it was "Kismit" (fate), and not bother
any more about me. Or if I should get burned
or hurt in any way they would not put nice,
clean, healing ointment on the sore place, but
instead, would paste manure and dirt there and
that would make it so much worse.
And I should not be kept clean, either. My
eyes and nose would always be dirty, and ever
so many flies would stay on my face, and my
hair would get all full of things, because my
Indian mother would only comb it once or
twice a month. And, perhaps, like many of


the little children, I would be blind, or one-
eyed, because my eyes were not kept clean and
the flies out of them.
And my clothes, when I wore any, would
mostly be very dirty and smelly. I like to
wear a chunni, but manmma washes it very
often. The Indian mothers are too poor and
too lazy to do that. They wash sometimes,
but not very often.
if I had been a little heathen girl when I
got the 'hip disease a year and a half ago, it
would have been very different. Instead of
having the brace to wear, and the crutches
and the hip splint to make me well again, I
should just have hopped about with an old
forked branch to help me. And, instead of
doctor Brown, my mother would have called
in some fakir or mirasin, to work a charm.
For she would have thought that someone had
"cast the evil eye" on me, or that someone's
wicked shadow had fallen upon me. So they
would have beaten drums a long time and
sung and screamed and shouted and driven
away the evil spirits out of my leg, and they
would have said charms and rubbed cayenne
peppers on my head, and pulled my leg (arid
oh! wouldn't it have hurt me!) and, perhaps,
lighted a paper inside my nose, or beaten me
very hard. And no one would, have prayed at
all, so how could Jesus have made me well
then, as He had now?
And if I were a little heathen girl, I should
not know anything about dear Jesus-nor be
taught to pray and to sing the Psalms. I
might go with my mother to make an offering
of rice or flowers, perhaps, but I should not
be taught anything at all, in school or out.
But I should learn very many bad things and
words, for my mother would not watch me, and
I should go where bad men and women and
boys and girls were, and learn a great many
things that I should not.
Now, I am only three years old yet, and
the things that would happen to me when I
grew older would be muoh worse than all
this, but I cannot write them now. I have
only told you a few of the reasons why I am
ever and ever so glad that I am a little
American girl, from a Christian home, rather
than a little Punjabi heathen girl. But there
are hundreds and hundreds of thousands of
dear little Hindu girls living like this, or worse.
Little children of America, will you not "give"
and "pray" and some day some of you "go"
and help them?-Youth's Evangelist.

"Nothing useless is, or low;
Each thing in its place is best."


Tissot, the distinguished painter, who died
recently, while at work on his "Life of Jesus",
took extraordinary pains to have every detail
absolutely correct, and he flattered himself
that he had not made a single error, until
one day when he happened to show a critic
a water-color drawing in which the parable
of the fig tree was depicted. Knowing that
this drawing was intended to form part of the
series entitled "Life of Jesus," the critic ex-
amined it very carefully, and finally said:
"I am just wondering why there are so many
aloes in the garden. Do you intend the scene
to be typical of the time of Christ, or is it
an ordinary scene, suitable for any time?"
"My sole object in painting that garden
was to depict a familiar scene in the life of
Christ," answered the painter; "and I assure
you that I have taken the utmost pains not
to introduce into the scene anything that
would be out of harmony with the epoch."
"Nevertheless, you have made one blun-
der," replied the critic; "for it is a well-known
fact that aloes were not introduced into the
Holy Land, nor into any of the countries ad-
joining the Mediterranean, until after the
conquest of Mexico by the Spaniards."
Tisso at once laid aside all other work,
and did not rest until he had removed the
objectionable aloes from the garden. Shall
a painter be more careful for exactness on
a perishable canvas than we to make our lives
obedient to the will of our heavenly Father?
-Michigan Christian Herald.

Tbe Cbilbren' Companion
An Illustrated Sunday School Paper
The United Norw. Lutheran Church of America
REV. JOHN PETERSON Moorhead, Minnesota
REV. A. 0. MORTVEDT Newark, Illinois
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