Front Cover
 Title Page
 Myrtle's "April fool"
 Bessie Carpenter's neighbor
 A practical application
 Ben-Hadad's first Christmas, part...
 A thoughtful daughter
 The boy who helped
 Circumstances alter cases
 Grandma's mistake
 Her mother's Bible, I
 Wonders of man - The "Eiffel...
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 Kittie's plaid shawl
 Japanese courtesy - "Finish...
 Her mother's Bible, II
 The hard text
 Harry's conclusion
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 Behold the babe
 Baby's corner
 Her mother's Bible, III
 The hard text (the blessed-Matt....
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 Ben-Hadad's first Christmas, part...
 Her mother's Bible, IV
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 Her mother's Bible, V
 People will talk
 "And there were giants in those...
 L. P.
 Guns - Simplicity in speaking
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 Puss and Tootens
 Through the woods, part I
 Her mother's Bible, VI
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 Two troublesome kittens
 Punishing an elephant - The hard...
 Sowing and mowing - "Pass...
 The spring freshet
 Her mother's Bible, VII
 Through the woods, part II
 The angels' song
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 Peruvian whistling jugs
 Only a boy
 Greyfriar's Bobby
 A curious relic - Children's...
 Little Sara's wisdom
 The hard text (Matthew v. 22) ...
 Is it right?
 Alfred the great - Vacation...
 Baby's corner
 Good-night! - Her mother's Bible,...
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 How the turtle left
 Lost their way - A missionary in...
 A missionary's journey
 The frightened tiger - Milly's...
 An indispensable article - Round...
 Sacrifice and its reward - The...
 Her mother's Bible, IX
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 Discouraging news
 Claire's bewilderment
 The hard text (Matt. v. 39-42)...
 "One of the least"
 "Figs from thistles"
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 Your grandpapa - Blow, march,...
 Her mother's Bible, XI
 Baby's corner
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 How the piano grew
 Her mother's Bible, XII
 The hard text (Matt v. 13) - A...
 Pink's lesson
 Rob: a story for boys, chapter...
 The two shores
 Back Cover

Group Title: Young folks at home : stories for young readers
Title: Young folks at home
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00081957/00001
 Material Information
Title: Young folks at home stories for young readers
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 26 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Pansy, 1841-1930 ( Editor )
D. Lothrop Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: D. Lothrop Company
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: 1892
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1892   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1892   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1892   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1892
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Statement of Responsibility: edited by Mrs. G.R. Alden ("Pansy").
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements on endpapers.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00081957
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002224427
notis - ALG4691
oclc - 212375369

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Myrtle's "April fool"
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Bessie Carpenter's neighbor
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
    A practical application
        Page 11
        Page 12
    Ben-Hadad's first Christmas, part I
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
    A thoughtful daughter
        Page 19
    The boy who helped
        Page 20
        Page 21
    Circumstances alter cases
        Page 22
        Page 23
    Grandma's mistake
        Page 24
        Page 25
    Her mother's Bible, I
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
    Wonders of man - The "Eiffel Tower"
        Page 30
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter I
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    Kittie's plaid shawl
        Page 34
        Page 35
    Japanese courtesy - "Finish it"
        Page 36
        Page 37
    Her mother's Bible, II
        Page 38
        Page 39
    The hard text
        Page 40
        Page 41
    Harry's conclusion
        Page 42
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter II
        Page 43
    Behold the babe
        Page 44
    Baby's corner
        Page 45
    Her mother's Bible, III
        Page 46
        Page 47
    The hard text (the blessed-Matt. v.3-9)
        Page 48
        Page 49
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter III
        Page 50
        Page 51
    Ben-Hadad's first Christmas, part II
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
    Her mother's Bible, IV
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter IV
        Page 60
        Page 61
    Her mother's Bible, V
        Page 62
    People will talk
        Page 63
    "And there were giants in those days"
        Page 64
        Page 65
    L. P.
        Page 66
        Page 67
    Guns - Simplicity in speaking
        Page 68
        Page 69
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter V
        Page 70
        Page 71
    Puss and Tootens
        Page 72
        Page 73
    Through the woods, part I
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
    Her mother's Bible, VI
        Page 78
        Page 79
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter VI
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
    Two troublesome kittens
        Page 84
    Punishing an elephant - The hard text (Luke)
        Page 85
        Page 86
    Sowing and mowing - "Pass the pepper"
        Page 87
    The spring freshet
        Page 88
        Page 89
    Her mother's Bible, VII
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
    Through the woods, part II
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
    The angels' song
        Page 96
        Page 97
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter VII
        Page 98
        Page 99
    Peruvian whistling jugs
        Page 100
        Page 101
    Only a boy
        Page 102
    Greyfriar's Bobby
        Page 102
    A curious relic - Children's day
        Page 103
    Little Sara's wisdom
        Page 104
        Page 105
    The hard text (Matthew v. 22) - Always with grace
        Page 106
        Page 107
    Is it right?
        Page 108
        Page 109
    Alfred the great - Vacation song
        Page 110
    Baby's corner
        Page 111
    Good-night! - Her mother's Bible, VIII
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter VIII
        Page 116
        Page 117
    How the turtle left
        Page 118
    Lost their way - A missionary in Sodom
        Page 119
    A missionary's journey
        Page 120
    The frightened tiger - Milly's adventure
        Page 121
        Page 122
    An indispensable article - Round the family lamp
        Page 123
    Sacrifice and its reward - The hard text (Matt. v. 12)
        Page 124
        Page 125
    Her mother's Bible, IX
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter IX
        Page 129
        Page 130
    Discouraging news
        Page 131
    Claire's bewilderment
        Page 132
        Page 133
    The hard text (Matt. v. 39-42) - Her mother's Bible, X
        Page 134
        Page 135
    "One of the least"
        Page 136
        Page 137
    "Figs from thistles"
        Page 138
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter X
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
    Your grandpapa - Blow, march, blow!
        Page 142
        Page 143
    Her mother's Bible, XI
        Page 144
        Page 145
    Baby's corner
        Page 146
        Page 147
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter XI
        Page 148
        Page 149
    How the piano grew
        Page 150
    Her mother's Bible, XII
        Page 151
        Page 152
    The hard text (Matt v. 13) - A prosperous Sunday-school
        Page 153
    Pink's lesson
        Page 154
        Page 155
    Rob: a story for boys, chapter XII
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
    The two shores
        Page 160
        Page 161
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text
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There are more than a hundred Pansy Books," mostly by Pansy herself, a few by one or two helpers, a
few by others altogether. They constitute the very highest class of Sunday-school and family .lin'eratr e.

There are substantial reasons for the great popularity of the Pansy Books," and foremost adi'ong these is, their truth.-,
to nature and to life. The genuineness of the types of character which they portray is indeed reinarkable; their heroesii
bring us face to face with every phase of home life, and present graphic and inspiring pictures of the actual struggles.,
through which victorious souls must go.. -
Her stories move alternately to laughter and tears." Brimful of the sweemess of evangelical'ieligion,'..l.
Influence cannot fail to be beneficent." "Girl life and character portrayed with rare power" .. '"
S Impressive and fascinating." "A wondrous freshness and vitality appearing on every page." The
cause of temperance is sustained with rare power, tact and interest." "The value and happiness of trusting-'in,
God happily exemplified." Nothing for the young surpasses this collection." "Too much cannot be
said of the insight given into the true way of studying and using the word of God."
These are a few quotations from words of praise everywhere spoken.

ESTER RIED SERIES. T7h f' o'.Ting caono! vwei' be canstifedi. They are adaptd.
various ages in the family cir',.e; always in demau nd'-
To Ie read in order as here mentioned. at the .braries. "
r. Ester Ried. The first boo Lf a series of religions stories
Snequal.'Jlein f.oatarnty. 1.50. Miss Dee Dunmore Bryant. -t.5o.
2. Julia Ried. 1.50. Aunt Hannah and AMartha qnd John. I.50o.
3. The King's Daughter. 1.50. A Modern Exodus. r1.5o.
4. Wise and Otherwise. 1.50. Interrupted. i.5o.
S. The Randolphs. .S5o. From Different standpoints. r.50.
6 Ester Ried Yet Speaking. i.50. Modern Prophets. 1.50.
S 7. An Endless Chain. 1.50. A New Graft on the Family Tree. 1.56.
Mrs. Solomon Smith Looking on. 1.50.
THE CHAUrAUQUA GIRLS SERIES. Spun from Fact.' 1.50.
Intens'y vivid fichres of the iou!gror-tt of four girls dis- One Commonplace Day. 1.50.
l, inclv ind.,.i.dua,', 3ta sprir.a.'y a.in. The Pocket Measure. 1.50.
i. -Four Girls at Chautauqua. .50. The Hall in the Grove. 1.5o.
2. Chautauqua Girls at Home. 1.50. Eighty-Seven. 1.50.
-3. Ruth Erskine's Crosses. 1.50. Divers Womenb .5
4. Judge Burnham's Datghters. .3o. Links in Rebecca's-Life. i.5o.
I sProfiles. 1. 5o. A;,
SVA' :ooh"s for J3ys ha:e w,.': d a J ia'ir iinfuence for good A Sevenfold Trouble. 1.50. -
tran ithe /i.'fo ug. Christie's Christmas. 1.50.
Tip Le'wis and His Lamp. 1.50. Chrissy's Endeavor. i.50.
Those Boys. .5o. Echoing and Re-echoing. .50o.
Little Fishers and their Nets. 1.50. Cunning Workmen. 1.25. -.
The Man of the House. 1.50. Dr. Deane's Way. 1.25 -
Sidney Martin's Christmas. Mrs. .5. Deane's Way. 1.25.
Three People. 1.50. Grandpa's Darlings.. 1.25.
Miss Priscilla Hunter. 1.25.
Choice I.'strated L.3irarir fJr Ch.r.i ,e. What She Said. 1.25.
Pansy's Half Hour Library. 8 vols., quarto, boards, 30 At IHome and Abroad. I.oo.
cents each. Bobby's Wolf and Other Stories. I.o.
Pansy's Boys and Girls Library. 1t vols., quarto, boards, Five FPiends. l.oo. S
25 cents each. In the Woods and Out. I oo. "
The Pansy Intermediate Library. o1 vols., 4.50 net. Mrs. Harry Harper's Awakening. I.oo.
The Pansy Primary Library. No-1. 30 vols., 7.5o net. New 'ear's Tangles. i.oo. -..'.
The Pansy Primary Library. No. a. 20 vols., 5oo net. Next Things. L.oo.
The Pansy Primary Library. No. 3. 24 vols., 6.oo net. Pansy's Scrap Book for Teachers. .oo.
,i',sirnnt quairtrs, edied Fas-. Some Young Heroines. l.oo.
i tusradenarlt's, editedo/ty Pr.. Young Folks Worth Knowing. .oo.;
Pansy's Picture Book. Cloth, .oo; boards, i.5o. Eernie's White Chicken. .75.
; Pansy's Story Book. Cloth, 1.'5; boards, 1.25. Couldn't be Bought. ..5. -
S. Pansy's Sunday Book. Colored frontispiece. Boards, 1.25. Stories from the Life of Jesus. -75. -
:Mary Burton Abroad. .75. Two Boys. .7",
S. PANSIES FOR THOUGHTS. Docia's Jburnal. .7s5
Selected from Pansy's writings by Grace Livingston. Getting Ahead. .75. Helen Lester. .75.-
16mo, cloth, .75; morocco, 2.co. Jessie Wells. .75. Monteagle. -75.
ta Mrs. Alden's writings are so pure, earnest, and helpful Six Lirtle Girls. .75. That Boy Bob. .75.
that a daily absorption of her pithiest thoughts must prove Panties. .-'5. We Twelve Girls. .50. .I
an enriching process."- N. I. Witness. Her Mother's Bible. .50.
SI Pansy is one of our most delightful story-tellers. Each page imparts, along with entertainment, moral and spiritual
profit."- Cumberland Presb.terian, Nashville, Tenn.
S" Quick of thought and sight, impatient of sham, tenderly loyal to real goodness, Mrs. Alden-finds her way into ai
young hearts and many old ones." Advance, Chicago.
D. LOTHROP COMPANY, Publishers, *Bostq-
,. "- --. The Baldwin Library
-- *.. ..-. i
-.. ......._ 'r .. ... = .. -. .. .:.

The ways-, -n-sinug baby are numberless; but the
best of them all is the old one-mother-talk.
What shall she talk about? The pictures andstories
of Babyland. Look at these pictures, for instance.
They have got to be explained, of course; but that is
what they are for, to give the mother something to
talk about.
But, remember, baby hasn't got used to the pace of
this quick world. Give him time. He couldn't find
out for himself what a story there is in one of these
simple pictures. There is the mother cat in her rock
ing-chair with her steaming cup of tea and the kittens
playing blind-fold. How happy they are:
Send five cents to D. Lothrzp Company, Boston,
for a copy of Babyland.

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T was a very handsome "grown-up"
bonnet, and I suppose Myrtle had no
idea how queer she looked in it. The
fact is, I believe she thought herself ir-
resistible when she had perched it nicely-on
the back of her banged head, and with her
dress gracefully lifted in one chubby hand, and

very sad. I'm afraid I have none to spare; the
truth is, we have a large family, and my little
girl especially is so fond of pot pie that I have
to save it for her."
"Well," said Myrtle, putting on her most
winning smile, "if you cannot spare any pot
pie perhaps I could borrow me a few straw-
berries; I'm sure I saw a boy bring some to
your house; I'm very fond of strawberries, and


a bouquet of spring flowers in the other, came
to call on mamma.
I'm Mrs. Delexity," she said, with a pretty
bow, as mamma answered her knock at the sit-
ting-room door. "I've just moved into the
house across the way, and I thought I'd call and
bring you some flowers and ask if you had a
little pot pie you could spare me for dinner.
I'm all out of pot pie."
"Are you, indeed?" said mamma, "that is

I haven't had any in most forty-two years."
"Is it possible ? That certainly is hard; but
here again my little girl is in the way. She is so
extremely fond of strawberries that when they
first begin to come in the spring it is very hard
to get enough to satisfy her."
Mrs. Delexity looked grave. It began to
seem to her that her neighbor's little girl was
something of a nuisance.
"Don't you think," she said, after a thought-


ful pause, "that your little girl ought to be
brought up to think of the poor and needy?"
Mamma stooped over her work basket sud-
denly to hide a laugh, then she said: "I think
so, certainly; but that is a very hard lesson to
teach little girls. My little daughter doesn't un-
derstand these things very well. Last night she
actually cried because she was asked to share
her milk with Mrs. Gray's baby."
Then there was silence for as much as two
minutes, after which the caller looked up
with her own winning smile.
Mamma," she said, "I'm not Mrs. Delexity,
I'm your own little girl. It is just an April fool,
you know; and I think I cried last night be-
cause I was sleepy. I don't mean to cry any
more; the baby may have all my milk to-night
- every drop, and some strawberries, too."
"That is my own unselfish little girl," said
mamma. "I like her better than Mrs. Delexity
a great deal."
"Well, mamma, tell me truly and surely,
were you just a little bit fooled ? Because it is
April fool to-morrow, you know, and I want to
know how."
"It was a lovely April fool," said mamma;
" the very prettiest one I ever saw in my life. If
all of them were as sweet and as harmless I
should not have so much reason to dislike and
dread them as I do." The sentence closed with
a long-drawn sigh ; Mrs. Markham had forgotten
she was speaking to her wee daughter, and had
become what Myrtle called "grown up before
she finished her remark.
The boys understood it, though, and won-
dered over the sigh. These were her two
nephews, who with their mother were on a visit
at Aunt Laura's, and were at this moment at
work in the little play room which opened from
the sitting-room, getting ready a contrivance
which they meant to use next day. Just before
Mrs. Delexity's arrival, Whiting had said to
Andy, "If this rig I'm fixing for myself doesn't
scare her, nothing will."
"I don't believe it begins with mine," laughed
Andy. Then they had stopped to listen and to
giggle over "Mrs. Delexity."
That last sentence, however, sounded like a
story, and by common consent both boys ap-
peared in a few minutes to get it if they could.

"Aunt Laura, do you truly dislike April
fools? What makes you ?"
"I have good reason to," Aunt Laura said,
smiling on them, but growing grave almost im-
mediately. Then, after moment's silence: "I
believe I'll tell you two boys a little story. I
don't tell it often. I had a beautiful brother,
once, about your age, Whiting, or a little older;
the handsomest boy, I think, I ever saw, and cer-
tainly one of the best; so cheery, he was, and
unselfish and thoughtful for others. We lived
two miles from town, and brother Will used to
go back and forth on horseback. He had a pony
of his own, a gentle, well-trained creature whom
we thought was not afraid of anything. But
one day, on the first of April, all the boys in
school had been wild to play tricks on one an-
other, and on everybody whom they could
catch. Will never played April fool tricks.
He seemed above them. He was good-natured
about it, and would laugh when there was any-
thing really funny, but they hardly ever caught
him; he was too sharp for them. It seems they
were determined to make him their victim if
possible, so they planned that when he rode
home just at dusk -he always went for the mail
at that time half a dozen of them were going
to dress up as highway robbers and rush out at
him from a bit of wood through which he had
to pass, and demand his pocketbook. They
carried out their plan, so far as to rush out and
call to him in gruff voices. He was not in the
least frightened. He knew them at once, and
called the leader by name; but poor Tony the
horse was not so wise. It was very dim twilight
and something about their shadows frightened
him; we shall never know what; he acted as
he never had before, reared and plunged, and
finally threw Will off. He struck his back
against a large stone at the side of the path.
That was the last ride my beautiful strong
young brother ever took! He lived three long
hard years, in great pain, unable to sit up in
bed; his back was hurt by the stone. And
when he was only seventeen years old he died.
My only brother."
"Humph!" said Andy, in a hoarse voice,
after a long stillness, "that was as mean as
Aunt Laura brushed a tear from her cheek



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and smiled on him: They didn't intend to be
mean, Andy; they all liked him. They were
only April fooling."
The boys went back presently to their work,
and were still for several minutes; then Andy
said :
Say, Whiting, don't let's."
"All right," said Whiting promptly, "say
we don't."
You see," said Andy, her pony may scare,
after all, if it does look like an old sheep; and
if she is queer-looking and long-haired, and all
that, she might get hurt all the same; and we'd
never want to hold up our heads again, Whiting
Stuart, if anything should come of it. She
don't look any queerer than her brother Jake
does, and maybe he doesn't know how to saddle
a horse and she might tumble off. Think of
Aunt Laura's brother Will!"
"I'm agreed to give it up," said Whiting
with decision. "Let the long-haired girl ride
her sleepy little nag in peace, for all I shall
trouble her. I say, Andy, wasn't it queer that
the story should have been about a pony and a
scare, and April fool, and all?"
Queer as sixty," said Andy. PANsY.



C OLD is the midnight air;
Judea's vine-clad heights in silence lie,
And dark, you rugged cliffs their shadows fling
Across the olive glens in softness veiled,
Beneath the silver beams of the pale moon.

But hark! there is a sound! What footstep
Intrude on spot so sacred? Who disturb
The quiet of the grave? A grave that could
Alone afford repose to Him whose life
Had been one lasting tempest of rebuke,
And scorn, and bitterness, and blackest hate !

Who dares approach? Unless some priceless
Whose agony and love scorns all restraint,
And at the noon of night, seeks the lone tomb.

Is it the noiseless step the smothered sigh
Of holy friendship, seeking ev'n in death
To hold communion with the loved and lost?
No; 'tis the martial clank of steel-clad men,
The measured tread of Roman sentinels,
Who sullen pace the private garden paths,
And watch the tomb of Jesus.

Wherefore thus?
Does Death not hold secure enough his
prey ? .
Make all secure! Let rocks be sealed,
And men of war be placed at every avenue,
With lance and sword, to guard the still domain.

O earth and heaven What dread convulsion
The adamantine pillars that have reared
Their dark volcanic heaps against the sky,
So many ages! See, the rocks are rent!
And opening wide, disclose their secret depths.
And mighty thunderings awake this peaceful

Ye men of blood and valor, who have stood
Unblanched on battle-fields,
Why stand ye thus, with terror-stricken brow,
And rolling eye? .
The white-robed messengers of heaven's high
Are hovering o'er your heads! And near you
Within that sepulchre, is going on- a mystery.
No human hand may feel the first warm throb
That stirs beneath the shroud.
No eye may view the mantling bloom of re-
awakened life, -
But now he lives!
From Foster's Cyclopccdia.

WHEN men do anything for God, the very
least thing, they never know where it will end,
nor what amount of work it will do for him.
Love's secret, therefore, is to be always doing
things for God, and not to mind because they
are such very little ones. Cast thy bread
upon the running waters, for after a long time
thou shalt find it again." Selected.



SF I was ever .ashamed of anybody in my
life I am of you This was Bessie's
remark to her dog Guard as she stood
him up in her lap on his hind feet after
having given him some hearty shakes by way of
"The idea of your chasing poor Toby all
over the grounds, when she is so fat she can
scarcely run, too ; and barking at her until she
did not know whether she was a cat, or just a
bundle of scare. What if she did put up her
back and spit at you? As if that could hurt a
great handsome dog like you to be spit at by a
poor little old cat! I say, sir, I am ashamed of
you. As carefully as you have been brought
up What is the use of teaching you anything ?
Don't you know that Toby is your neighbor,
and that you ought to love her as well as you
do yourself ?
Didn't I try my best to explain that to you
only yesterday? And didn't you bark three
times, which everybody knows means Yes in
your language, when I asked if you understood ?
And here the very next day you go and dis-
grace yourself. That isn't the worst of it;
you have disgraced me, too. You belong to
me, sir, and you can't go around doing mean
things without disgracing me. I'm ashamed to
look Mrs. Parkhurst in the face, now, because
she knows that my dog Guard has been chasing
her ugly yellow cat."
Guard looked the picture of dignified sullen-
ness, refused to bark or to wag his tail, or do
anything but shake himself and try to get away.
His mistress put him down, presently, smiling
and sighing almost in the same breath.
Poor fellow you aro only a dog. What a
pity it seems, when you know so much. Never
mind, Guard; you are not to blame for not un-
derstanding the Golden Rule. It isn't for you to
practice on, I suppose--that's one comfort--
or you would have been given brains enough to
understand it. But you will have to be taught
by the hardest, not to chase Mrs. Parkhurst's
cat. I won't have that, anyway. You will
have to be whipped, Guard, if you do it again.
Do you understand that?"
She shook her finger at him with a mixture of

playfulness and warning, brushed one or two of
his curly hairs from her apron and ran away to
finish her dusting.
A very pretty girl was Bessie Carpenter. A
general favorite among the girls and boys of
her set. A leader among them, in fact. On
this particular morning she was unusually happy,
even for her. In two days more she would be
thirteen; and among other delights which she
was sure that day would bring, she was to have
a party. Not a very large one; just the girls
and boys who belonged to her classes in school
and at Sunday-school; but her mother had
made very choice preparations for them, and
Bessie suspected a beautiful secret was being
planned, which had to do with two large car-
riages and double spans of horses. Her father
had just hinted at something of the sort;
enough to give him a chance to laugh at the
glow on her cheek and the sparkle in her eyes.
Bessie did not understand the secret fully,
but she felt almost certain there was one, and
she could trust her father.
While she went about with her gay-colored
feather duster, filliping little flecks of dust here
and there, she moralized a little on the differ-
ence between her and Guard.
Is it really harder for a dog to do right than
it is for people," she said, "because he doesn't
understand? Now if I could only make him
learn just that little rule about loving his neigh-
bor as himself, how easy it would be for him to
see why he mustn't chase Toby, hateful old cat
though she is. It is a nice rule, I think; it
makes everything so plain. And it is easy
enough so far as I can see."
Her thoughts went out to the neighbors on
either side of her. There was Alice Parkhurst,
her dear friend and constant companion. They
had but one point of difference; Bessie could
never understand how Alice could fondle that
great fat yellow cat, even kiss her, and seem to
care so little for Guard! But she never said
anything about it to Alice. Then there was
Ned Parkhurst, Alice's brother; everybody
liked him; he was just a splendid boy. Across
the street lived dear old Mrs. Burnham and her
lovely married daughter with her sweet baby.
All of them just as lovely as they can be !"
said Bessie with emphasis. "I'm sure there is


no trouble in liking them just exactly as well as
we do ourselves. And as for the Harts who
live on the other side, they are never at home,
and I don't know them very well, but I like
them well enough; I should like them very much
indeed, I think, if I knew them."
By this time she was at the gate, her pretty
work apron laid aside, her wavy hair pushed
back inside her broad sun hat, and, basket in
hand, on her way to the post-offic for her
father's morning mail. This was one of her
morning duties. Bessie's face was sunny still;
she liked all her morning duties; she liked her
world very much. She nodded politely to Mrs.
Burnham's daughter across the way, and threw
a kiss to the baby who was held up for her
to see, and thought once more how "nice"
their neighbors all were. Suddenly, with'the
lock of the gate still clicking behind her, Bessie
came to a halt; a look of surprise, almost of
dismay, coming into her face.
There was the girl who lived at the Harts
standing at the gate this minute; the girl with
the freckled face and homely nose, who always
wore calico dresses even to church. The girl
who worked for her board and went to school;
and who had no home, and no brothers and
sisters, and the Harts had taken her to stay at
their house because she was the daughter of an
old housekeeper of theirs and they felt sorry
for her.
All this Bessie had known for months; but
the thought which came to her new this morn-
ing and almost overwhelmed her was, that this
freckled-face girl was her neighbor!
"It's all the home she has," thought Bessie,
" and she lives exactly next door to us; there's
no getting around that. To be sure she never
goes in our set, but neither does Toby Park-
hurst go in Guard's set; she can't get a chance,
poor old cat"-with a little laugh over the
thought of how she would be treated if she at-
tempted it perhaps that is the reason Jane
Austen never comes with us. What if I
should Bessie Carpenter, what if you really
The overwhelming thought which had
brought the little line of wrinkles out on Bessie's
forehead was, What if I should ask Jane
Austen to my birthday party !" That would

be a surprise to the others, certainly. Could
she do it? Ought she? There was a sudden
dash at last for the post-office, a very rapid
home-coming, and an almost breathless young
woman rushed upstairs to her mother. Such
a great thought as this demanded immediate
An hour afterwards she opened the sash of
her French window, stepped out on her piazza,
and called, "Alice "
There was an instant raising of the sash
across the lawn and Alice's curly yellow head
looked out of the window. She had Toby in
her arms.
"I've got something to tell you. I'm going
to invite Jane Austen to my birthday party."
"Why-ee! Bessie Carpenter, you're not, are
you? "
"Yes, I am, truly. I thought about it, and
I've been talking with mamma about it, and I've
decided to do it."
"Well, sure enough, why not?" demanded
Alice, after a thoughtful pause. She'll like it,
of course; and the poor thing looks dreadfully
lonesome. Let's ask her to join our society and
go to things with the others. Why not?"
I'm sure I don't know. We ought to, you
see. She's our neighbor, Alice Parkhurst.
Don't you remember last Sunday's talk in the
"Y-e-s," said Alice recollectively, "so she is.
Well, I would, if I were you; and I will.
Bessie, only look at Toby's foot where she hurt
it this morning running from Guard. I wish
you could teach Guard to love his neighbors."
"So do I," laughed Bessie. "But, you see,
he's only a dog." PANSY.

IT is stated that President Harrison, when
the arrangements had been made for his inau-
gural train to start on Saturday, refused to start
at that time, as that would necessitate his trav-
eling on the Sabbath, to which he objected.
" If thou turn away thy foot from the Sabbath
from doing thy pleasure on my holy day; and
call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord,
honorable; then I will cause thee to ride upon
the high places of the earth, and feed thee with
the heritage of Jacob thy father."





T was a very pretty room, that one where
Johnny lived. The walls were covered
with cheerful paper; there were a few
bright pictures; the pretty crib-bedstead
that belonged to Johnny, was made up in spot-
less white, and everything everywhere was as
neat and sweet as thoughtful hands could
make it.
Johnny lived in a great big house--oh!
ever so much larger than your home. There
were wide long halls reaching from one end of
the great house to the other; there were rooms,
and rooms, and rooms! Some of them very
large, and some small and cosey. There were
beautiful green lawns stretching out from the
broad piazzas, and grand old trees with seats
under them for tired people, and, under one, a
carpet spread, on which some merry babies
tumbled, and kicked and crowed.
A lovely home was this for Johnny, and
everybody was kind to him, yet you would not
have liked to change places with him. Let me
tell you why?
The name of Johnny's home was Hospital."
A blessed place for the poor sick homeless chil-
dren; thank God for the grand men and women
who thought of it, and planned it. Still one's
own little home is of course a hundred times
better, if only one has a home; Johnny hadn't,
until he was brought to this.
Another reason is, the woman who bends
over Johnny when his back aches, and his head
aches, and soothes and comforts him, is named
Nurse. A warm-hearted, pleasant-faced, kind-
voiced woman God bless her!- still one's
own dear mother would of course be many
times better, when one's head ached; only
Johnny had no mother.
Still another reason. That poor back of
Johnny's is not like yours. It often aches. It
has been hurt. The nurse and the doctor hope
he will be well sometime, so he can walk out
in the pleasant yard with the help of crutches;
but they are not sure even of that. They
know he will never walk without them.
How came Johnny here ?
One morning, the matron of the hospital and
the nurse of this ward looked at one another

sadly and shook their heads. Then the matron
turned to the doctor and spoke: "Every fur-
nished room is full, Doctor. It is too bad! I'm
so sorry for the poor little fellow; it seems as
though he ought to come in. His mother dead,
and his father drunk, most of the time. Dear,
dear! But we can't help it. We have rooms,
but not a bit of furniture or bedding, or any-
thing to put in them, and no money to spare
this month. It is very hard."
Something happened that very afternoon.
A letter came, saying the Pansy Society of
- have raised fifty dollars with which to,
furnish another room in the hospital. They'
want some poor sick child put into it as soon
as possible.
That he shall be, poor little fellow!" said
the matron, when she heard the news, and she-
and the doctor looked at one another, and
smiled. Two days afterwards, Johnny was,
brought from oh! such a desolate place, to this.
home, and this sweet clean room, and this soft.
Something else happened. One day there-
came a box from the freight office, which, when
opened, proved to be filled with nice things.
Books, and toys, and cards, and dollies, all in
good order, and neatly packed. A letter ad-
dressed to the matron, lay on top. It read:
The Pansy Society of send this box for,
the sick little children in the hospital. Will
the matron please distribute the books and toys.
as she thinks best ?"
You may be sure some of them came to
Johnny. He had never owned a picture book
before, in his life! One of the children who-
was almost well, came in from her play to help:
Johnny look at the pictures, and enjoy his book..
They were both very happy.
So were the members "of the Pansy Society
who had sent the box. So were the members.
of that other Pansy Society who had sent the
money to furnish Johnny's room.
A great many Pansies are doing such work
in the world. It is beautiful work. PANsY.

THE truest confession of love to God is
made by deeds of love to God done to our
fellow-men in his name.



T had been a very busy morning.
Laura and Minnie had been hard
at work over their lessons, getting
ready for the summer examinations.
Moreover, there was a musical Re-
hearsal" in the air, and much prac-
tising was required to getreadyfor it. All this
made them feel more hurried and nervous than
usual; but they reached the middle of the after-
noon without more serious trouble than being
unable to make good sense of a sentence in
the French essay they were translating. At
last they went to Cousin Caryl who had studied
French and graduated; of course she ought to
But Cousin Caryl, if she had graduated, was
puzzled over the sentence and knitted her brows,


and struggled with the crooked verb, while the
girls lounged on either side of her and waited.
It was just at that moment that Laura remarked :
"Minnie, you ought to begin to do your hair
up ; you will not get it in manageable trim for
the Anniversaries, if you don't train it. I
always hate to change the style of wearing my

hair just before I'm to be hurried and flurried
over anything."
I'm not going to change the style of wear-
ing my hair," said Minnie, composedly. I'm
going to wear it down my back all summer; I
think it is ever so much less trouble, and besides,
I like it better."
Well, but, Minnie, it won't do to wear a light
silk with your hair in that shape; it will soil it."
Who said I was going to wear alight silk?"
Minnie asked, her fair cheeks flushing.
Don't you expect to have Aunt Mary's light
silk made over for you for the Anniversaries ? "
"No, I just don't. How absurd it would
look for me to wear a silk, and you who are two
years older, wear white. That light silk wouldn't
become me, either; it isn't my color at all."
"But, Minnie, you know mamma said she
couldn't afford to get two new white dresses
this season; and the silk is lovely, and Aunt
Mary gave it for that purpose."
I know all that; it won't cost any more to
have a white dress bought for me than it will
for you, and the silk is becoming to you and it
isn't to me. Besides, you are the oldest and
ought to wear silk if either of us do."
"I'm the oldest and therefore I ought to have
the new dress," said Laura, positively, her
cheeks also growing very red.
"I don't think so; I'm to play at the Re-
hearsal, and all the girls who play will be
dressed in white. Wouldn't I feel comfortable
rigged up in Aunt Mary's old silk while the
others all wore white?"
Wouldn't you feel quite as comfortable as
I should?"
"No, I wouldn't; because you don't play;
and some of the singers will dress in colors;
and the dress will become you and it won't me."
Well," said Laura, I shall speak to mamma
about it, and we'll see. I'm the older and en-
titled to the new dress, and you will find she
thinks so."
I don't believe I shall find any such thing,"
declared -Minnie, her cheeks almost blazing
through the delicate blonde skin. Mamma
has good taste, and she would see the absurdity
of such an arrangement. What difference do
you think it makes because you are twenty
months older than I?"


Now both of these girls were getting very
much excited; there is no telling what they
might have said next, but for an interruption.
It did not come from Cousin Caryl; she was
a cousin who had known the girls but a few
weeks, and she not only felt embarrassed at
their having this discussion before her, but she
did not know in the least what to say. Nobody

you would have to do as the 'ciples did, put
down your heads and look 'shamed."
Imagine how those two sisters felt! They
looked at one another for a moment in dumb
astonishment; then they looked at Cousin
Caryl, then all three broke into laughter.
You little darling!" said Laura, dashing
after Alice, and smothering her, apron and all,


thought of little Alice, who was in the conserva-
tory which opened from the sitting-room, and
which she had appropriated as a play room since
the plants had moved -out doors. She had laid
" Emmeline Augusta" and "Harriet Jane
Lorelia on the seat behind her, had put on
Laura's ruffled kitchen apron and Cousin Caryl's
sun hat, and was having a "hursal" all by her-
self, holding up her sheet music with a dig-
nified air, as much like Laura's as she could.
In one of the pauses of the music she had
caught the excited tones of Minnie's voice and
had stopped to listen.
Something about the talk reminded the mid-
get of the very last Bible story she had heard,
which happened to be the one where the disciples
had been disputing by the way, who should be
greatest. Suddenly her clear, silvery voice
broke into the discussion : If Jesus should come
now and ask you what you were talking 'bout,

under hugs and kisses. When she looked up
there was a suspicious sparkle on her eyelashes,
but her voice was sweet.
I don't care about the dress much, Minnie;
I'll have the silk one if you would so much
"Well, I wouldn't," said Minnie quickly.
" You ought to have the new one, of course.
You are the oldest."

A FIRM of business men in Missouri have
issued the following advertisement:
Any man who drinks two drams of whiskey
per day, for a year, and pays ten cents a drink
for it, can have at our store thirty sacks of
flour, two hundred and twenty pounds of granu-
lated sdgar, and seventy-five pounds of green
coffee, for the same money, and get two dollars
and fifty cents premium for making the change
in his expenditures.".


THERE lives in Cleveland, Ohio, a bright
Bohemian girl. Her parents are infidels.
She used to go to Sunday-school, but ceased,
read Bohemian infidel papers, attended worldly
amusements, assisting in acting at a theatre,
and lost faith in God. She had to make the
fire every morning early. She was not very
successful, often trying several times before it
would burn. Somewhere she had read about
God and His answers to prayer, and she thought
within herself, 'If God answers, why not ask
Him to aid me to make a fire ?' She tried it,
.mnd lo, the fire started at once. Then she got
the Pansy books, the reading of which was
blessed to her conversion. Now she has re-
nounced the world, determined not only upon
a Christian life, but to be a missionary to her

ONE day in India a native came to the mis-
sionary who was his teacher, and said he
had been talking with some sailors who were
bad men, because they told wicked lies. He
said, among other things they told him that the
water where they lived sometimes got so hard
that men could stand on it! That they could
stand in the middle of a river, and the water
would be too hard to let them through. But
of course," said the native, you know I would
not believe such a silly lie as that! I know
Well," said the missionary, that story is
true. I have often stood on the water when it
was so hard that men and horses and even
elephants would not break it. Do you believe
S that? "
Over the face of the native c an aston-
ished and puzzled look, but his answer was
"Yes, I believe it because you say so;
but I don't see how it can be! Let me tell
you what I thought when I read this true
I could not help thinking how much more
ready this converted heathen was to believe
what his missionary said, even though he could
not understand how it could be, than we are
sometimes to believe the Lord Jesus Christ



ITTLE Ben-Hadad stood leaning on
the window-sill, looking out into the
bit of a yard. There was nothing
to be seen in it then, except snow
and one lonesome tree, gaunt and
bare, that shivered a little every time the wind
blew around the corner. Up and down the
street there was nothing but snow -on the
houses, on the trees, on the few people that
ventured out on the bitterly cold day-un-
usually cold, even for the day before Christmas.
Ben-Hadad shivered. Just then a man went
by, his overcoat buttoned tightly about him,
carrying over his shoulder a Christmas tree, its
long evergreen branches covered with snow,
like the rest of the world. The boy looked
after him thoughtfully. I suppose," he said,
thinking aloud, "that we .will have Christmas
this year. Won't it be fun ?"
More men went by. The sun was warming
the air, and women began to venture out.
Every one that passed Ben-Hadad knew was
preparing for Christmas. Pocket-books went
one way, and packages of all shapes and sizes
returned. I suppose," said Ben-Hadad again,
that there is nothing in the pocket-books when
they come back, so they don't care to show
them." Then he reached down into his pocket
and brought out a dingy two-cent piece, laugh-
ing as he surveyed it doubtfully. "I might
buy a stick of candy for Uncle Flatiron," he
said, and laughed again.
The door opened just then, and a woman
camne in. "To whom are you talking, Ben-
Hadad?" she asked. And why do you
nearly freeze yourself over there by the win-
dow? Your nose looks like an icicle."
"I was just thinking aloud, mother, and not
t ,kI; to any one. It isn't very cold here.
My nose is cold because I have been leaning
it against the glass. Come see these birds,
mother. Don't.you like to see the people go
by? They are all getting ready for Christmas.
Don't they look cold?-the birds, I mean.
Can't we have Christmas this year ?"
How you can talk!" said Mother Hadad,


coming to the window, and looking over the
boy's shoulder. "Yes, Bennie, I think we will
have Christmas this year."
That will be nice," said Bennie decidedly.
"I have always wanted to, when everybody
seemed to have such fine times, and now the
time has come."
We have only just learned how to celebrate
it, Bennie." And the boy thought he saw a
wee tear intrude upon the soot on the window-
sill. He looked up quickly, but no more ven-
tured out.
See those birds, mother. Don't they look
hungry? How do you suppose they will get
anything to cat?"
"I don't know," said Mother Hadad, smiling.
" That is, unless you give them some crumbs
off that dry loaf in the pantry."
"May I, mother ?"
If you will promise not to keep the window
open a minute after you have put them out,
and be sure'and not stop to throw a snowball
at any one."
He laughed, and ran away to get the crumbs.

did not love, that he had told them about Him,
and little by little they had been persuaded to
go to his "teacher's church," and, to make a
long story short, first Mother Hadad, and then
Father Hadad, had learned to love the Christ,
too, and as little Ben said only to himself,
not even aloud they were both nicer than
they had been before, although of course he
couldn't love them any more."
But after his father and mother had joined
the Christian church, hard times began for
them. For Father Hadad was discharged from
the store where he was working, and they be-
came very poor; sometimes had hardly enough
to eat.
'It was only about a month before my story
begins that the father had got another place-
in a store where he received a good salary
- and good times began again for the Hadad
That was how this came to be their first
At supper that night, when Father Hadad
had come home, they began very earnestly to


And now, to introduce you to this family: it
consisted of Father and Mother Hadad, and
little Ben-Hadad, all Jews, whose ancestors,
years and years ago, had come over from Pales-
tine. But this year little Ben had been invited
into a Christian Sunday-school, where he learned
so much .of Jesus, whom his father and mother

talk over what they would do to celebrate.
"I was called into the office to-day," said the
father, "and Mr. Sanborn said we would close
the store to-morrow, so he would wish me a
Merry Christmas, and would Ben come to his
house in the morning and get something he and
his wife wanted to send us to celebrate with."


"What do you suppose it can be ?" asked
Ben-Hadad, his eyes shining.
I presume a chicken, or something of that
sort. Mr. Sanborn has a very large poultry
yard, and they tell me that every Christmas he
gives away a great number of chickens and
It was kind in him to remember us," said
Mother Hadad thoughtfully; not as though
she were thinking of what she said, but of
something else.
Presently she laid down her fork, and bend-
ing over to him, whispered in his ear, Let us
have a Christmas party !"
BenI-adad looked at her to see that she was
in earnest, and clapping his hands, exclaimed,
SWouldn't that be splendid ?"
"Hush! said Mother Hadad aloud. Don't
tell your father. I guess we can have a secret
of our own."
Father Hadad raised his hands in mock
despair. "And is my family to turn against
me, and form conspiracies ? e asked.
"Never you mind," said his wife, laughing
across the teapot. I've always heard that
0('!..i-, 1 Eve was the time for secrets. Now,
Ben-Hadad, if you want to talk it over with
me after supper, you will have to help me clear
off the table and wipe the dishes."
All right," said Bennie, and he was soon
armed with a towel. Begin," said he.
"Not until the work is done," said his
mother. I must think a little first."
"Thinking," with Ben-Hadad, was hard to
do at any time, so busy did he keep his tongue.
S"Mother," he began presently, "do you sup-
pose any of our great-great-great-grandfathers
away back, you know--lived near B3ethlo-
"hem ? "
0 yes! said Mother IHadad, as she briskly
washed a plate. My family was a Bethlehem
one of the house of David; and so was your
father's. That makes me think of an old Christ-
mas legend they used to tell in his family."
Christmas ? They didn't have any."
"I know it. But the Hadads that lived in
Bethlehem when Christ was born, were Chris-
i:us; at least so the story goes. It is about
Iii tle Ben-Iadad, who they say was just your

Go ahead," said Ben-Hadad briefly, using
terms which I am sure would have shocked his
It is very little of a story. Ben-Hadad was
wandering around one evening, looking for
somethingto do. You know there were a great
many people in the city, for they. had come up
to be taxed."
"I wouldn't have come if I had been they,"
observed Ben-Hadad. Let the tax man come
to them "
Then you would have been arrested, per-
haps, for the Romans looked out for their taxes.
But little Ben-Hadad, your ancestor, liked to see
the people, and while he was taking his walk,
he came across the stable where Mary and
Joseph were."
And the baby ?"
"And the Christ-child. He was there when
the Wise Men from the East came with their
gifts, and looked at them wonderingly. And
when he saw where the baby layin the manger,
and that there was but a little straw in it for a
bed, he went about and gathered more, and
brought it to the strange cradle. And just as
Mary was thanking him, the shepherds came in
and told of the angels and their song: 'Glory
to God in the highest, and on earth peace,
good-will toward men.' When Ben-Hadad
grew up, he saw Jesus crucified, and always
afterward.he wore about his neck a cross made
of two wisps of straw, in memory of what he
had done for the Christ-child."
"That is a beautiful story," said Ben-Hadad,
when his mother was silent. "Do you suppose
it is true, mother?"
"No," said Mother Hadad, "I do not sup-
pose it is. Stories brought down from so long
ago are apt to be mere traditions. But I think
myself it is a sweet legend, and I will tell you
presently something that I think it teaches.
You have finished your dishes now. While I
am putting the kitchen in order, suppose you
get the Bible, and read me the story of
Christmas, to celebrate Christmas Eve; first in
Matthew, then in Luke."
So Ben-Hadad got their new Bible, and read
the old story of the shepherds and the Wise
Men, and the star which shone over one of
Bethlehem's lowliest stables, -


In the starry midnight,
Centuries ago."
Meantime Mother Hadad moved rapidly
about the little kitchen, and hung up the dish-
pans, and brushed off the stove.
Ben-Hadad was silent for a moment or two
when he had finished. Mother," he said
presently, "I think that song was the prettiest
thing that ever was written."
"What song, Bennie ?"
"Why, the angels' 'Glory to God,' you
"I don't know but I think so, too," said
Mother Hadad.
There was silence then for a long time, save
for the swish of her broom.
What are you thinking of, Bennie?" she
asked, after a few moments.
"I was thinking," said he thoughtfully, how
much I would like to have been there."
"In Bethlehem?"
"Yes. To have done anything like what he
did, you know, for the Christ."
Ben-Hadad's sentences were rather mixed,
but his mother understood him.
Bennie," she said, turn to the twenty-fifth
chapter of Matthew, and read the fortieth
After some searching, Ben-IIadad read:
"And the King shall answer and say unto them,
Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have
done it unto one of the least of these my
brethren, ye have done it unto me."
Do you see," asked Mother Hadad, that
you have as much opportunity to do something
for the Christ as had little Ben-Hadad of
Bethlehem ? "
Ben-Hadad was thoughtful. "Mother," he
asked, "was that the lesson you wanted me to
learn from the straw story ?"
His mother smiled and nodded as she took a
seat by the fire in a low rocker. "Come," she
said, "now to our party. We can't afford a
fire in the parlor to-night, we are going to be so
expensive to-morrow. I am going to let you
invite two people to a Christmas supper to-
morrow night. We will have that chicken that
Mr. Sanborn will send us, and mashed potatoes;
I will make a little apple sauce or something,
for a relish, and you can buy some candy and

a cake at the baker's; we will have a regular
Christmas. Your father had his next month's
salary paid in advance, and he and I decided
that we could spend a little more money than
usual, seeing it is our first Christmas."
Ben-Hadad's face had grown brighter and
more astonished at every sentence of his
mother's. "How perfectly magnificent! he
said. "And I may invite two whole people to
the house ?"
Unless you have them in pieces," said his
mother, smiling.
Whom would you invite ?"
"Two of the least," said Mother Hadad
Ben-Hadad looked astonished.
Two of the least of 'His brethren,' I mean.
You have not forgotten your lesson? If I
were you, Bennie, I would invite the most dis-
agreeable person and the most uncomfortable
person that I knew."
Ben-Hadad laughed. "That would be a
funny party. Well, the most disagreeable per-
son I know is Uncle Flatiron -he is the most
uncomfortable person, too, but I will have to
find another."
Uncle Flatiron was a very cross and very
deaf old man who lived next door, and was so
called because he kept fastened to his door an
ancient flat-iron for visitors to knock with, as
he could not hear ordinary knocks. The wicked
little boys of the neighborhood used to throw
snowballs against the house, to make him think
some one was rapping, and come to the door.
Much discussion was held between Ben-
Hadad and his mother concerning the Christ-
mas party, and it was agreed that the former
should invite Uncle Flatiron, and look about,
between then and the next evening, for some
other uncomfortable person.
Mother," he said, I'm not sure that Uncle
Flatiron is a brethren.' "
Mother Hadad smiled. God hath made of
one blood all the nations of the earth," she
said, "and whether he recognizes his family or
not, he is a' brethren,' as you say, all the same."
Two or three blocks from the Hadads' hom .
was a large stone church where little Ben-Hadac
used to love to go on Saturday evenings, to
hear the choir, which was a very fine one,





practice for the next day. As he had heard
they were to rehearse the (' ri 1 i! service, lie
went around that evening and got his usual
place, a corner near the door; the sexton was a
friend of his, and always let him come in to listen.
The cushions of his seat were soft, and some-
times he would fall asleep during the singing.
In tle church there was a large and fine
painting, which the sexton said had been
copied by a very great artist, from one which
represented Mary and the Christ-child. The
face of the mother was gentle and sweet, and
that of the child such a wonderful mingling
of tenderness and simplicity and thoughtful-
ness, that Ben-Hadad never tired of looking at
it. To-night lie thought both faces seemed
more lovely than usual, in honor of the great
birthday of to-morrow, and the child seemed
listening to the music the choir sang of Him.
For they sang beautiful songs that evening,
Ben-Hadad thought. "It could not have been,"
he said to himself, "that the song of the angels
over the pastures of Bethlehem sounded much
sweeter." They sang Glory to God in the
highest, and on earth peace, good-will toward
men!" The wonderful "Hallelujah Chorus"
from Handel, which has never been equalled,
Ben listened to almost without breathing; but
the best thing of all, was when a very beautiful
lady arose in one corner of the choir, and in a
voice of such richness and sweetness as little
Ben-Hadad had never before heard, sang these
words: -
"0 little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting light;
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee to-night.
0 morning stars, together
Proclaim the holy birth!
And praises sing to God the King,
And peace to men on earth.
For Christ is born of Mary,
And gathered all above,
While mortals sleep the angels keep
Their watch of wondering love.
How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is given I
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heaven.

No ear may hear Ris coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive Him still,
The dear Christ enters in.

Where children pure and happy
Pray to the blessed Child,
Where misery cries out to thee
Son of the Mother mild,

Where Charity stands watching,
And Faith holds wide the door,
The dark night wakes, the glory breaks,
And Christmas comes once more.

O holy child of Bethlehem,
Descend to us, we pray!
Cast out our sin and enter in,
Be born in us to-day.

We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,
Our Lord Emmanuel! *

SHERE once was a great preacher by the
name of Monod. In one of his sermons
he told a story about two little girls who were
watching the sunset. The older one told her
little sister to notice what a long way the sun
had traveled since morning. The little one
reminded her that father had told them only
that morning that the sun did not move.
"Yes," said the older sister, "but I don't be-
lieve it. I saw the sun rise over there this
very morning; and now it is away over here:
How can a thing go all that distance without
moving? If we didn't move we should always;
be where we are now, up on this hill."
"But," said the little one, "you know father
said it was the earth that moved."
"I know it," said the other, "but I don't be
lieve that, either. I am standing on the earth
now, and so are you. How can you pretend t(
think it moves when you sec it does not stir! ''
Said the great preacher, These simple ones
might divide mankind between them, and carry
the banner of their parties through the world,
There never has been, and there never will be
any other division, but they that take, and the3/
that will not take, their Father's word."
Whlnt Father do you think he meant ?

Dr. Phillips Brooks.







S'"i"RS. IASTIN : laid the baby down
Very carefully, even keeping back a
sigh of relief, lest it might waken him
i again. It was the third time that
-Y morning she had coaxed him to sleep.
Baby had a hard task on hand that of push-
ing four double teeth through swollen gums.
They all insisted on coming at once, and made
his life miserable. The night had been a rest-
less one, and baby and mamma were all tired
out. A soft knock fell on the door. Mrs. I-ast-
ing; went on tiptoe and opened it. Bridget
sic id there, her broad face looking troubled.
Shl motioned her mistress into the hall.
:' Ii'm awful sorry to trouble you," she said,
1 lmut it's growing late, and Mr. Fred has
brought company home to dinner, and they are
g( ing on the train, so he says he must be ready
o; the minute; and the table isn't set, and
tliere's nothing ready for dessert, and I'm that
i worried that I had to come for help, though I
tried my best not to."
Mrs. Hastings gave the faithful girl a sympa-
th etic smile for her thoughtfulness, then said:
Where is Carrie, Bridget? I thought she
was to set the table and see to the dessert."
"Miss Carrie is out, ma'am. She said she
would get back in time, if she possibly could,
b, it it is growing late. I think I'd have man-
ag d it if company hadn't come, but I'm afraid
tlh, y will miss their train, you see."
SI'll come, Bridget, right away."
.Mrs. Hastings returned to tuck the covers
, Iore carefully about Baby, laid back into place
th4 pillow she had arranged for taking a little
rec~tt while lie slept, then made all haste to the
dii'iig-roomn. Sure enough, it was late. She
, would have to be brisk indeed if her son's
fr.iiends did not miss their train. The dishes
;we.t on rapidly.
S' "' Where is the cream pitcher, Bridget?" she
askad, making the journey to the kitchen for
that, purpose. "I can't find it in the china
Miss Carrie took it, ma'am, to put a calla
lily in last night. She said it was the only
SthinI in the house that was just the right shape,
.and she would have it ready by dinner time.

I'll run up-stairs and get it, ma'am. She took
the lily away with her this morning."
"No," said Mrs. Hastings. "It will not do
to leave your oven without watching just now.
I'll go myself." So she toiled up-stairs for the
pitcher, washed and arranged it, then opened
the sugar bowl. It was empty. Keeping the
sugar bowls and salt cellars in order was part of
Carrie's work. To the store-room for sugar,
then to the kitchen for water with which to
cleanse the salt cellars, which were found to be
in confusion. Now she was ready for the bread
knife. It was not inits place. She spent some
precious minutes in looking for it, then applied
to Bridget.
"0 ma'am! Miss Carrie had it in her room
cutting a bit of vine. She said it was the only
knife that was sharp enough, and she forgot to
bring it back."
Up-stairs once more for the bread knife, a
search for it under piles of paper and piles of
clean clothes not yet put away; then to the
kitchen to wash it, and Mrs. Hastings glanced
nervously at the clock. I shall not be able to
make anything for dessert at this hour," she
said. We shall have to depend on fruit.
What were you planning for, Bridget?"
Why, Miss Carrie said she would make a
lemon custard, ma'am, and I thought she had
till I went to the closet to look for it, and found
the lemons not cut."
Mrs. Hastings sighed. "We must depend
on apples and raisins," she said. Where are
the raisins Carrie got yesterday?"
"She did not get any, ma'am. They had
none of the right kind at Moore's, and she was
going to stop on her way back, at Jones', and
forgot it."
Then it is apples and nothing else. I won-
der what Carrie did not forget. There are no
clean napkins in the drawer, Bridget. What
does that mean ?"
Bridget really looked embarrassed. They
haven't been put away yet, ma'am. You'll
find them on the ironing shelves."
With a delicacy that Carrie ought to have
appreciated, she kept herself from saying, Miss
Carrie forgot to attend to them; and as you
told me, ma'am, not to do it, there was nothing
to be done but let them lie there in the dust."



All of this Mrs. Hastings knew without being
told. But I have only given you a hint of the
trials that met that tired mother.
Meantime Carrie, in a very becoming winter
hat, with the collar of her sealskin sack drawn
up about her ears, braving the December snow-
storm in a very business-like way, dodged into
stores and shops, and out again, in a flutter of
haste and excitement.
Just as the very last step needed for the
dinner was taken, the hall door opened with a
rush and the flushed cheeks and shining eyes
of the yolng girl appeared in the hall, as Mr
Hastings came from the other direction.
Such a time as I have had, papa! whispered
Carrie confidentially, as he drew off his over-
coat. I've been everywhere in search of
something for mamma's Christmas present. I
had an idea at the last minute-something that
would make it so pretty and I started out in
the midst of this snowstorm to look for it. I
thought I would have to give it up, but at last
I found it in a little old store on Dey Street."
The dining-room door was opened suddenly.
"Mr. Hastings, it will be necessary for you
to come to dinner immediately," said his wife.
"Fred has company who are to go on the train,
and it is late. Don't wait for me. I had to
leave the baby and come down to do Carrie's
work, and he has wakened again and is crying."
Saying which, she ran up-stairs.
Carrie gave her mother a reproachful glance,
and her father a meaning look. As for the
father, he had not been in the kitchen for the
last hour, and knew nothing about the mother's
unnecessary steps. So he said, Never mind,
daughter; mamma does not know what impor-
tant secrets took you away. She will know all
about it to-morrow." But she didn't.
('lCI i-ri morning came, and in the Hast-
ings house there was a very quiet family. Carrie
presided at the breakfast table, and was pale
and grave. What eating Mr. Hastings did
was disposed of rapidly, and he hurried back
to his wife's room.
Utterly worn out," the doctor had said
when he came down-stairs a little while before.
" Nervous prostration we must call it, for want
of a better name. Nervous wear-out it ought
to be called. She was on her feet all day yes-

terday, the girl told me, after being broken of
her rest all night. That was the last straw,
probably, and it broke her. 0 yes! we hope-
she will rally, but I don't know how soon.
These sudden breaks are dangerous things."


ERY busy times had there been at Mr.
Parker's all the week, sweeping, washing
windows, and what not. It was not quite
the usual time of year for that cleaning.
The truth is, Mrs. Parker had put it, off
until late this year, on purpose, on accoui!lt of
the wedding.
"Since we must clean house any way," she
said, "we may as well delay, and have the house
in all its freshness for Marie. A wedding
doesn't come every year. We can afford to,
be turned aside from our usual ways a little.''
But they had been more than "a litl a"
turned aside. Having begun the business, it
must be finished at just such a date. It w:,i of
no use for the carpet men to send word that
they could not possibly come to-day or to-ri'or-
row, but would be sure to be on hand blight:
and early Thursday. Bless their dear hei rts
Thursday was the day of the wedding. \Didi
any one suppose that a carpet in the hdnmsc
could wait until that day before it went down ?'
This belated carpet was a very important die,.
too; it was for the library, and had been selected
new by the pretty bride herself to match tihe
wall paper and the lovely new table sclrf.
Certainly that must be laid, whatever else ijas
left undone.
A half-frantic man rushed from one end of
the town to the other in search of a carpet)
man or men, but none was to be found to cornie
at just the right time.
One would think there was to be a weii-
ding in every house," the mistress saiil id~
despair, everybody is so busy. Mr. Parker,,
what are we to do?"
Then did Mr. Parker take off his coat anu
declare there was no help for it; he must plit
the carpet down himself. It was hard tvork.
He was used to managing law-suits and giving


advice and attending to other people's business
for them in many ways, but this did not help
him a bit when he came to stitching and match-
ing carpets. Some of the tacks went down in
the wrong place and had to come up again, and
did not want to. The tack hammer broke just
when it should have done its best, and hurt
Mr. Parker's finger. He tossed the hammer
-down in disgust, said it was a worthless thing;
be would have a better one than that before he
drove another tack, or his name was not Parker.
In a very few minutes he came back in triumph ;
he had found a tack-puller that was perfection.
Mrs. Parker, busy as she was, had to come from
the pantry to look at the way it worked.
A child could use it," said Mr. Parker,
*showing it off with great pleasure. "I believe

.1 ?

\ "PAl. 'S LITTLE AN.\."
R oy could take up tacks with it as well as any
one. Where is ihe? Roy, see here," andl five-
Syear-old .oy came bounding in. There,"
; said Mr. Parker glccfully, "look at that,"
as the sturdy little hand under his father's
direction, lifted the tacks from the floor with
ease. "I call that an invention worth making.
Anything that saves time and strength in this
busy world, I'm interested in. 'The Little
Giant' they call this creature, and he is well-
Snamed. IIe does without effort what I have
bothered over for five minutes at a time. Jutst
* watch how easily it is done."
Roy watched, too, while the line of crooked

tacks in front of the bay window was drawn
out swiftly and skillfully. Before the tacking
commenced again, Roy was off. He had left
a playmate when he was called, and as soon as
possible ran back to her. More than an hour
afterward the playmate had gone. Roy, left
alone, thought of the new tack-puller and how
nicely that tack came up that his father let him
pull. He thought it must be pleasant work.
He would like to do more of it. He ran to
the library, but it was deserted. Mr. Parker
had finished his task and the new carpet was
ready for the wedding. It looked firm and
smooth. Though Mr. Parker was not a carpet-
layer by profession, he was one of those who
could do well whatever he undertook. Roy,
as he stood and looked at the rows of tacks.
had a great thought come into his wise brain.
It occurred to him that he might do something
to help his busy papa.
I am so relieved to think that carpet is
down," said Mrs. Parker to the bride-elect that
afternoon. I was really afraid we should have
to close the library on the occasion, and that
would have been too bad after buying a carpet
just to please you. But your father has done
it beautifully; a professional could not have
made it look better. Have you been in to see
it, Marie ? "
No ; Marie had been so busy; but she would
go tllis minute. Poor papa she said on the
way there, it is too bad that he had to do
such work with all the rest he must attend to."
"Poor papa, indeed !" She might well say
it, only she was too much astonished and dis-
mayed to say a word. Both ladies seemed to
have lost their power of doing anything but
i ,. first at the floor, then at each other.
The pretty carpet that had been so firmly fast-
ened to the floor, lay in loose rolls over the
room ; not a tack left in it!
"I did it all myself," sa:l Roy, bursting in
upon them. I did it every bit myself ; I and
the Little Giant. Won't papa be pleased?"
"What will his father say?" was all the
troubled mother could find voice for; and, as
if to answer her, the father appeared in the
doorway a;t that moment, took in the situation
at a glance--the dismayed ladies, the loose
carpet, the rows of tacks along the floor, the


radiant boy. lie thought of the hard night's
work before him to stretch that carpet again
and get it ready for the wedding next day.
Only a moment he stood watching the surprised,
grieved look which was gradually coming over
the face of the little boy. Then he stooped
and liEted him in his arms, kissed his flushed
cheeks once, twice, three times, and said,
" Papa's little man! he thought he was helping
papa; it is worth all the work to have a boy
who tries to help."
I've always admired papa," said the bride,
telling the story over again to the man who


i i i :I STMAS-DAY though it was, a very
'- ,,- .-... my-faced little girl stood on the
I .... of the river and watched the
Scene on the ice. The girl's name was
Sara Mason. She lived in one of the
small houses on a back street, near the river.
There were father, mother, Sara and the baby
in the little house. It was so very little that it
seemed to Sara that they would never find a
place for all the things, though she knew that
they had but few things. It was only two

"- *l?- ; - ~Z i

-; 4<



was to be her husband. "I have always
thought him one of the grandest men in the
world, but I don't believe he will ever be
grander in my estimation than he was when lie
controlled himself and kissed Roy for undoing
,Lis half-day of hard work." PANSY.

weeks since they had moved to this town from
a larger and pleasanter house; and being gloomy
and sad over many things which had lately
happened to them, Sara felt homesick and lone-
Some folks have all the nice things there


are in the world, and others must go without."
She was talking to herself as she looked at
the gay group on the ice, watching them with
such a sullen look on her face that, had they
been near enough to see it, they might almost
have been frightened. "Just look at that
proud thing sitting there in her sleigh holding
a puppy. I should think such a great yirl as
she is would be ashamed to go out riding with
a puppy in her arms. My, my! did I ever see
such a sleigh? It is made on purpose for the
ice. I do believe it is lined all over with plush.
I never saw anything so pretty in my life just
see how it slips along; and my lady looks as
pretty as a queen. She never has trudged
through the snow to the grocery, I'll be bound.
Those are silly-looking boys drawing her; I
shouldn't like to have my brothers -.if I had
any rigged up like that. They make me
think of the boys who rode the ponies the day
when the circus went by; but I suppose that's
the way grand folks dress. That's what they
call skating suits, I guess. I wonder what my
lady would say to having baked potatoes and
bread and butter for a Christmas dinner, and
not another thing. I suppose she had turkey
and cranberry sauce and oyster pie, maybe, and
no end of things. It is just as I said: some
folks have all the good things in this world. I
don't see why I couldn't have some as well as
such a proud-looking girl as that; she has fur
all over her and a plume on her new hat as long
as my arm. How would she like to wear an old
hat, I wonder, and a sacque too short and too
narrow and too everything ? I s'pose she lives
in one of those grand houses over there, and I
s'pose she lhad candies and nuts in her stockings,
and all sorts of beautiful presents, and I had
just an apple. She's coming this way, I do be-
lieve ; she's going to stop her sleigh and look
at me! She needn't. I most believe I'll make
a face at her, if she does. I'm as good as she
is, any day, if I can't prink up in fine clothes
and ride out in a grand plush sleigh, painted
blue-and-gold color."
"Merry Christmas!" said a clear, pleasant
voice from the sleigh as it drew close to the
shore. "Will you have a Christmas package ?
I am giving one to each of my friends. I guess
you are my friend, aren't you?"

"I don't know," said Sara. She thought
afterwards what a rude answer it was to make;
but just then it seemed to be the only one she
could think of.
Oh! I guess you are; you must be about my
age. All the girls who live here are my friends.
Do you live near this place?"
I live on Day Street," said Sara briefly and
"Oh! do you? I wondered who lived in
that little red house next to the corner, and I
hoped we'd be good friends. I'm all alone at
our house; the only girl, you know; and I do
get very lonely sometimes. You will have one
of my Christmas packages, won't you? Robbie,
hand her this, please."
It was a large white stocking, made of the
material called milinet. Through its openings
Sara could see the gleam of candies in all sorts
of curious shapes. The sweet voice from the
sleigh went on:-
"This is one of my ways of having a good
time on Christmas. The boys take me out rid-
ing, and stop along shore for me to greet my
friends. Have you brothers and sisters to play
with ?"
There's only the baby and me," said Sara,
speaking a little more politely, and accepting
the white stocking with a Thank you! won-
dering at the same time whether she ought to
take it, and what else she ought to say.
Oh! have you a baby at your house? I
wonder if you won't bring it to see me some-
time. I do love a baby so much. I have only
this dog. Will you bring your baby to call on
Perhaps your mother wouldn't want me to,"
said Sara, determined to take no advantage of
all these kindnesses, and be as dignified as she
A sad look flitted over the face of the child
in the sleigh, but her voice was still sweet:
"My mother has gone to Heaven, and my
father, too; but I live with my auntie, and I
know she will be glad to see the baby. She
always welcomes my friends."
"Poor little girl without father or mother or
baby; nothing but a dog!" This was the
thought in Sara's heart, but she did not put it
into words.


It now occurred to her that it would be polite
to ask the little girl to come and see her, though
she didn't believe she would want to come to
such a little house as theirs. If she doesn't,"
said Sara, hardening her heart again, I'll not
go near her."
"You might come to our house and see the
baby sometime; it is only a little walk from
where you live, if you live in that big house
over there." She pointed to one of the grand
river fronts where she strongly suspected the
whole party belonged. The little girl shook
her head. "I live there," she said, "but it is
too long a walk for me. I might ride there
sometimes, if the coachman can turn down that
street; I can't walk."
Why not?" Sara's voice was hard, and she
could hardly keep her lip from curling. What
a little goosie, to talk of riding a dozen steps.
"I never walked a step in my life. Some-
thing's the matter with my back, and my feet
have to be lazy all the time; they are good-for-
npthing things; just for ornament."
Her face was bright again, and she finished
her sentence with a queer little laugh. Sara
could not laugh. Tears came into her eyes
and rolled down her face. It seemed to her
she had never heard of anything so hard in her
life; but all she said was, 0 dear!"
The nodding plume leaned quite over the
side of the sleigh. "You are sorry for me,
aren't you?" said the gentle voice. Thank
you; but I don't mind it so very much. I have
a great many things to be glad over."
To think that I should have envied her,"
said Sara, speeding home after she had promised
to ask her mother to let the baby come on the
first bright day and make a call on her new
friend to think that I should have envied
her, and she has no mother or father or baby
brother; and she never walked a step in her
life! 0 dear me!"
The strong little feet carried their owner
swiftly through the snow up the path to the
little house; and Mrs. Mason received such a
hugging and kissing as she had not had for
many a day.
"Seems to me you have come home in a
happier mood than you went out," she said
when she had a chance to speak again.

"Mother, I'll never be unhappy and grumbly
again, never, mother. Just think of a little
girl who has not any folks, only aunts and
cousins and such things, and who has never
walked a step in her life! 0 dear! 0 dear I
Where's the baby? Seems as if I wanted to
smother him with kisses. Catch me grumbling
But I'm afraid she will the very next time
things don't exactly suit her. People forget,
you know. PANSY.


OOR Grandma! I do hate to tell her,
And yet it does seem very queer;
She's lived so much longer than I have,
And I-- why, I've known it a year!
Even Alice begins to look doubtful,
And she is so babyish, too,
And mamma slyly laughs at the nonsense,
But Grandma believes it is true.

"I did it all up in brown paper,
And laid it just there by her plate;
She put on her glasses so slowly,
I thought that I never could wait.
But when she had opened the bundle,
My patience!' she said, how complete I
A dear little box for my knitting -
Now isn't old Santa Claus sweet?

"'To think that the funny old fellow
Should notice I needed just this;
If he should come in here this morning,
I think I should give him a kiss!'
She never once looked at me, never;
Of course I had nothing to say,
But I was so mortified, truly,
I just had to run right away.

"Poon Grandma! I do hate to tell her!
But some day, of course, she'll find out;
And then she will laugh to remember
What once she was puzzled about.
But as for that beautiful work-box,
She laid with such care on the shelf,
How can she think Santa Claus brought it ?
I made the thing for her myself."






Y ES," said Mrs. Selmnser, fingering the
leaves of the large old Bible with loving
touch, "it is all I got; no, I wasn't disappointed,
because I didn't expect anything. Maria was
the youngest child, and mother has lived with
her so many years it stood to reason that she
would leave everything to her. To be sure, as
Reubenl says, Maria has enough, and more than
enough, while we find it pretty hard work to
make the two ends meet; but then, mother
didn't sense that; she was old, you see, and
didn't think much about money matters, any-
how; and she had no great to leave, I suppose;
she has always paid her way at Maria's. Those
children were great pets of hers, of course, be-
ing with them ever since they were born ; she
didn't know our children much. Mother wasn't
able to travel for a number of years before she
died, and we could never afford to take the
children to see her; so it was all natural enough,
and I'm not a mite dii.appoiited, though I can
see that Reuben is, just a little ; that's natural,
too. But I've got the old Bible, and I'd rather
have it this minute than anything mother had
to leave. You see it is the one she used regu-
larly for years and years, and it is all marked
up with her verses. You can't hardly turn a
page but you will come across a verse marked
in red ink, or blue ink, or green ink; mother
was a great hand to mark her Bible, and so was
father. It makes the verses kind of stand out,
you know, so you are obliged to think about
them, even if you are in a hurry; and it kind
of seems to help you get the sense of them ; I
don't know why, I'm sure ; Maria didn't think
so. She never liked to see a Bible marked up ;
she said it didn't look neat.
I suppose that was why mother gave tlhe

message to me that she did. Said she, 'Jane,
I'm going to leave my big old Bible to you and
your children; I have a feeling that it will help
you more than it will Maria or John.' Some
way it did me good to have mother say that,
and know that she had thought about it and
planned to leave her Bible to us; and I'm right
glad to get hold of it. I tell the children I
hope they will learn every one of the marked
verses this year, and store them up; because
their grandmother never marked verses at ran-
dom, as you may say ; she picked them out to
live by."
All the while she talked, Mrs. Selmser kept
up that tender little almost caressing touch of
the worn Bible, and as she turned its leaves and
one caught glimpses of the marked verses, it
gave the impression that the grandmother had
lived on a great many.
"Yes," said Mrs. Selmser, smiling fondly,
when her attention was called to this, "my boy
Ralph says, 'Why, mother, if we undertake to
learn all of Grandmother's verses, we might as
well learn the whole Bible and be done with it.'
And I tell them I don't know as they could
learn anything that would make them wiser."
Miss Edwards, her caller, reached for the
Bible and turned the leaves with careful fingers
and paused over some of the marked verses
with interested face.
"Trust in the Lord and do good; so shalt
thou dwell in the land and verily thou shalt be
fed," read Miss Edwards. "That is heavily
"Yes; and I make no doubt there was a story
belonging to it if I only knew it. If you look
close you will see father's initials in the corner,
and the letters T. P. made very small. You
know about the old lady who marked her Bible
all over with T. P.'s, don't you? Why, she
meant tried and proved. That story made a
great impression on father, I know, and he used
to mark some verses that way; so did mother.
I know some of the stories. I only wish I knew
all of them."
"I only wish they would come true to us, as
well as to grandfather and grandmother," said
young Ralph in a doleful tone as he leaned over
his mother's shoulder and looked at the heavily
marked verse.


"Ralph," said his mother reproachfully, while
the visitor regarded him with a questioning
smile, have you tested it?" she asked. But
Ralph, blushing much, had no reply to make.
"Do you know what a hard time the Smiths
are having?" said Mrs. Sclmser, closing the
Bible, as one who had turned to entirely another
subject. "Ralph here, found out by accident
that they were actually hungry- those children,
you know. Doesn't that seem hard? I declare,
when I heard how poor little Mamie snatched
after a bit of bread, it made the tears come."
Miss Edwards had not heard about them;
she asked many questions, and said that directly
after Thanksgiving she would go and see them.
Then she went away. No sooner was she out
of hearing than Mrs. Selmser had something to
say. "I was sorry you spoke in that way about
the verse, Ralph ; if Miss Edwards should ever
hear anything about that chicken, she would
think you didn't want them to have it."
"She won't ever hear about it," said Ralph;
and besides, you know I said all the time that
those chickens were dreadful little to make one
do for a big family like ours; Thanksgiving
Day, too."
"Yes, but, Ralph, you know the Smiths had
nothing at all for dinner, and one chicken is
better than nothing, isn't it?"
We might have sent them something else,"
Ralph said slowly. It had evidently been hard
work for him to give up that chicken.
"But we hadn't anything else, my boy, that
we could spare, that would have been a kind of
a treat to the Smiths. Don't you really think,
on the whole, that we did the best we could?"
Ralph gave a little sigh, then looked at his
mother and hmglhed.
"It's all right, mother," he said, "only vou
see I had kind of set my heart on our having
those two chickens on Thanksgiving Day all to
ourselves ; most folks have turkeys, you know,
but I told myself I would be contented with
chickens, if we could have two of them, and
lots of gravy. It isn't for the eating either,
that I care so much, it is just because I wanted
to be like other folks, you know.".
"I understand," the mother said cheerily,
"and you wanted the Smiths to have a good
dinner, too; I know that just as well as though

I could look right into your heart. You
wouldn't have had them miss of that chicken
for I,., now would you?"
Ralph laughed again, and said he didn't know
as lie should, and went away whistling. As
for Miss Edwards, no sooner was she out of the
house, than for some reason she changed her
mind, and went at once to call on the Smiths.
Here she heard wonderful stories; they had
been in trouble, but they believed their darkest
day had passed, thanks to their neighbors. Mrs.
Smith constantly wiped away the tears as she
told of the many thoughtful kindnesses of Mrs.
Selmser and her family. "And they are poor
themselves," said Mrs. Smith; I dare say
they have scrimped themselves a good deal to
help us all they have."
Miss Edwards did not doubt this, for she
knew a good deal about the Selmsers. Their
crowning act of kindness, if Mrs. Smith is to
be depended upon, was that chicken. Such a
wonderful story as she heard about it! How
it, with its companion, had been the special
property of Ralph Selmser, the sole survivors
of a brood of seven, all the others having come
to grief; how Ralph had confided to her boy
Peter that he was raising those chickens for
their Thanksgiving dinner, and how he and his
mother were going to give the father a surprise;
and then to think that they should be willing
to change all their plans, and get along with
only one chicken for themselves, was almost too
much, Mrs. Smith thought. "It isn't as though
they had plenty to give," she said, wiping her
eyes, "but they have been ready to divide their
little with the widow and fatherless; I hope
the Lord will make it up to them."
Mrs. Smith had still more reason for gratitude
before that call was concluded, but it is not
about her that I want to tell you at present.
I want you to think of Ralph Selnser as
looking out of the window on the morning be-
fore Thanksgiving, when little Tim Potter, who
was everybody's errand boy, appeared in sight,
holding on with both hands to the largest tur-
key Ralph had ever seen.
To his great surprise, Tim opened their side
gate, and squeezed himself and the turkey
through it. He rushed to the kitchen door to
see what was wanted, and the turkey was laid


at his feet in silence, and Tim was off like the good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and
wind. verily thou shalt be fed."
A note was found pinned to the turkey's leg, While the others all talked at once, wonder-
but when it was examined it said only this: ing how, and why, Ralph stood back with folded
"For Ralph Selmser to give his father and arms, and looked at the turkey.
mother a Thanksgiving dinner." And below It is Grandmother's Bible that did it," he
it, these words: "Trust in the Lord and do said at last.

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W ONDERS at home by familiarity cease
to excite astonishment; and thence it
happens that many know but little about the
"house we live in -the human body. We
look upon a man as we look upon a house, from
the outside, just as a whole or unit, never think-
ing of the many rooms, the curious passages,
and the internal arrangements, of the house, or
of the wonderful structure of the man-the
harmony and adaptation of all parts.
In the human skeleton, about the time of
maturity, are 165 bones. The muscles are about
500 in number. The length of the alimentary
canal is about thirty-two feet. The amount of
blood in an adult is nearly thirty pounds, or
full one fifth of the entire weight.
The heart is six inches in length and four
inches in diameter, and beats seventy times per
minute, 4,200 times per hour, 100,800 times per
day, 36,772,000 times per year, 2,565,440,000 in
threescore and ten; at each beat two and a
half ounces of blood are thrown out of it, 176
ounces per minute, 656 pounds per hour, seven
and three fourths tons per day. All the blood
in the body passes through the heart every.
three minutes. The little organ by its cease-
less industry, -
In the allotted span
The Psalmist gave to man,

lifts the enormous weight of 300,700,200 tons.
The lungs will contain one gallon of air, at
about their usual inflation. We breathe on an
average 1,200 times per hour, inhale 600 gallons
of air, or 14,400 gallons per day. The aggregate
surface of the air-cells of the lungs exceed 20,000
square inches, an area very near equal to the
floor of a room twelve feet square.
The average weight of the brain of the adult
male is three pounds and eight ounces. The
nerves are all connected with it, directly, or
through the spinal marrow. These nerves, to-
gether with their branches and minute ramifica-
tions, probably exceed 10,000,000 in number,
forming a "body-guard outnumbering by far
the mightiest army ever marshalled.
The skin is composed of three layers, and
varies from one fourth to one eighth of an inch

in thickness. Its average area in an adult is esti-
mated to be 2,000 square inches. The atmos-
pheric pressure being about fourteen pounds to
the square inch, a person of medium size is
subjected to a pressure of 40,000 pounds.
Each square inch of skin contains 3,300
sweating tubes, or perspiratory pores, each of
which may be likened to a little drain tile one
fourth of an inch long, making an aggregate
length over the entire surface of the body of
201,156 feet, or a tile ditch for draining the
body almost forty miles long.


THAT, you know, is the name of the great
tower being built in Paris, to be ready
for the Exposition there, next summer. It is
built of iron, and is to be nine hundred and
eighty-four feet high. Can you think how high
that is? The Washington Monument, which is
the highest building we have as yet, is five
hundred and fifty-five feet; but here is one
going up, that will be almost as high again.
The tower is for the purpose of lighting the
grounds where the Exposition is to be held. I
cannot decide how much light it will send out.
One writer says it will be as much as nineteen
million candles would give. But who knows
how much that would be!
How would you like to go to the top of that
tower ?
Just take a run over to Paris, next summer,
and try it, will you ? You will have a chance to
ride part of the way up, on an elevator. How
far? Oh! only a matter of nine hundred and
seventy-one feet.

I WISH all the boys and girls would cultivate
politeness. It means so much Begin at
home at your own tables. And by being
polite, I mean never do anything that will be
considered disagreeable by those with whom
you associate. An impolite boy is always an
unpromising one. A smile, a gentle word, a
very little act, has been known to make a boy's
fortune. So, boys and girls, study politeness.





S- :---, -HERE is that boy?"
S Miss Philena looked up. It
.' wasn't in nature to expect her to
hold her gaze to the blue stocking
Sshe was laboriously heeling off,
with that voice ringing in her ears.
However, she said nothing, being used to keep-
ing her tongue between her teeth.
"Do you know ?" came at last, a direct ques-
"I s'pose he hasn't got home from the mill."
"You s'pose. Well, if I had him here now,
he'd know better'n to l'iter over that job.
When'd he start?"
Oh! something more'n an hour ago." Miss
Philena leaned forward in her high-backed
rocker to get a leisurely view of the corner
"Humph !" It was more of a grunt than an
exclamation, and the speaker thrust his hard
hands into his pockets, and walked to the one
window yielding a view of the road. Beside
the thoroughfare, occasionally furnishing bits of
pictures, constantly changing as the pedestrians
and the few people with vehicles passed, there
was not much to provide entertainment for the
inmate of Joel Slocum's home, housed on a mid-
.winter day. A few gnarled apple-trees in a
\corner of the house-lot shook their ragged
branches in the wind, twisting themselves into
various distortions and affording but scanty
shelter for the score or more of hungry fowls
,who fluffed out their feathers in the vain at-
temipt to keep warm under them. Now and
t ien a lean and ill-favored cur would diversify
n matters by rushing down from the old porch to
bark and show all his teeth at them. When
th(,y scattered in all directions, the dog would
go slowly back to throw himself down again on
the porch-floor to watch them reassemble. At
such times there would be a temporary excite-
me it within doors, and Miss Philena would
catch herself peering out of the window for any
chance guest. But such personages rarely ap-

peared, and soon all things settled down to a
dead level again.
The house, square and roomy, had in its time
been a fine old family mansion. It would be
hard to imagine it ever briiliintly lighted at
night, or (.. ..1 ; ., with life in the day time.
Yet such had been the case even in Joel and
Philena Slocum's youth. But that was long
since ; and the brother and sister, the only rep-
resentatives of the family who chose to remain
in New England, had gradually withdrawn
from people, and, as a natural sequence, losing
interest in others, had at last lost enthusiasm
for their own especial life-work, and instead of
keeping the farm and homestead up to its for-
mer air of opulent content, had let the one run
down through lack of work, and had shut the
other up, one room after another, till now, the
only apartments used were the kitchen and two
bedrooms if we except a small room in the ell,
for Rob.
That boy grows worse and worse," growled
Joel, going to the window for the twentieth
time. It's because we let him have his head
so much."
Miss Philena folded her knitting-work with
extreme deliberateness. "You're getting' ner-
vous," she said. "We might as well have
tea," and she proceeded to get out of her chair,
an operation always attended with difficulty,
after sitting long.
Joel regarded her with disfavor. "You
grow stiffer every day," he observed, not minc-
ing matters.
"I s'pose I do," she answered coolly; "that's
natural, I'm sure. We're neither of us young,
Joel winced. Any allusion to his age always
made him testy. "Well, where's that boy, I
sh'd like to know," he repeated.
So sh'd I," responded his sister, "but I
ain't going to growl and grumble over it. Why
don't you take hold and do something to help
the time along? You might set the table for
That's woman's work," said Joel disdain-
"S'posin' 'tis," said Miss Philena, "it's bet-
ter'n no work, in my opinion." With that she
disappeared in the buttery.


Somebody, whistling along the road, now
drew Joel's attention, and lie peered eagerly
through the gathering darkness to catch sight
of the figure advancing toward the house. A
boy presently turned in between the tall granite
posts where in olden time there had been a
gateway, and whistling away at the merriest
of tunes, leaped over the old porch, and I lrew
open the door, showing a ruddy face, and clear
blue eyes.
I Halloo said Joel, hurrying forward from
the window, where have you been this long
time, Rob ?"
To the mill," said the boy. "Aunt Philena
sent me down there with the corn, but it's
shut up. Mr. Griggs is sick."
Sick Griggs sick? cried Joel with inter-
est. VWhat's the matter ? "
"I don't know. I asked 'em over at the
house, and they didn't any of 'em know. IIe
had a chill this morning, they said, and he
coughs. That's all they told me, anyway. Is
supper ready?" turning his hungry young eyes
around for the usual preparations for that meal.
"No, 'tisn't," said his uncle shortly; "and
won'tt be for you, in a good while. Where's
your bag of corn ?"
"I left it at the mill," said Rob.
"I thought you said the mill was shut up,"
said Joel sharply.
"So it was. But I know where there's a
hole in the back shed, so I slipped the corn-bag
in there, instead of carrying it home. And to-
morrow I can run down and see if the mill is
going again. Likely enough somebody'll run
it, if Mr. Griggs can't."
"You're likely enough with your opinions,"
snarled Joel; "for a boy of fourteen, I must say
you have about as many as I ever see. You'd
no right to leave that bag without leave, over
to Griggses."
The boy made no reply to this. HIe was
well accustomed to blame; a little more or less
made small difference, and he now busied him-
self in speculations of the liveliest sort as to the
probable time of the supper, the preparations
for which his practiced ear told him were well
under way, judging from various sounds ema-
nating from the buttery. At last Aunt Philena
appeared, bearing in one hand the wooden

bread plate with its usual supply of carefully
trimmed slices, and in the other the remains of
a cold meat pie.
"You home, Rob?" she remarked, by way of
welcome, as she set these down on the table.
" There, pull this out, and lay the cloth."
"lie's left the bag o' corn over to Griggses,"
complained her brother. "Now what'll you
do, pray tell, for your meal?"
"Left the bag of corn over to Griggses," re-
peated Miss Philena. So the explanation had
to be gone over again. All this while Rob was
setting the table briskly, and trying hard not
to catch whiffs of the pie, it made him so very
impatient to have a taste of it.
Aunt Philena said nothing. It wasn't her
way when irritated, but at last seated herself
at the head of the rather scanty board.
"Come, Joel," she said, "supper's ready.
Do hurry, so that we can get through and the
dishes can be done up. Get into your place,
"Rob isn't coming to supper," declared his
uncle, hurrying over to drop into his chair op-
posite his sister. "A boy who can be so long
over an errand like that, and then, to cap all,
can leave a bag o' corn that's intrusted to him,
out of his hand, ain't fit to set by to supper
with us. Go to bed, Rob!" He turned to
him sharply. "Here,light your candle, and get
along off with you."


'TIHE only place in which amber has beeli4
'"' found in paying quantities is in th e
Baltic Sea, and the vein extends fro n
SWestern Russia to Denmark, Norway
and Sweden. In former years the pi;o-
duction of amber depended principally upon
the storms occurring in the winter time, f/or
when the sea was convulsed, the amber lying
on the bottom was thrown up on the shore;
but human enterprise stimulated by the dem, ad
for the article has changed all this, and for the
last twenty-five years various engineering aplpli-
ances have been used for getting out the anr ber
in the quickest and cheapest way.
The most profitable strata have been fouled


in the Courischer Haaf, which is located in the bringing up the sand and what amber there
vicinity of Memel, and there are twenty large may be in it. This is emptied on the deck of
dredging-boats constantly at work day and the ship, and there it is washed, and the amber



Ij -

F1 i


C-5 **-





ni:,ht for eight months in the year. There are in an entirely different manner. The most ap-
iarge strings of iron pails that are constantly proved diving apparatus is used, and the divers
1 ggingi along the bottom of the sea, and go out in row-boats, each of which is fitted


7 ......

I -


picked out from
among the sand
and stone.
The little vil-
lage where this
industry is car-
ried on is called
Schwartzort. It
is situated on a
narrow strip of
land that extends
about ten miles
beyond the main-
land, and is per-
haps a mile wide
at its widest part.
At one time this
strip of land was
covered with a
forest, but th e
wood was sold off
by a Prussian king
in the beginning
of this century to
the Russians.
The land has be-
come barren since
stripped of its
sheltering forest,
and now it is
nothing but a
sandy waste; and,
were it not for
the amber indus-
try, this beautiful
peninsula would
be desolate.
About ninety
miles further
west is another
little village,
called Palmnick-
en, and here the
amber is obtained


with an air-pump. They go down into the sea,
where some of them remain as long as four or
five hours. Each diver has a little bag around
his neck, and a peculiar hook, with which he
pulls up sand, and every piece of amber that
he finds is thrown into his bag. An encourage-
ment to the diver is that if he finds a piece of
amber he is entitled to a prize of ten, twenty-
five, or fifty cents, according to the size.
While the divers are below in the sea, en-
gaged in hunting for the amber, the miners are
just as busy on land, for it seems that the same
stratum of the green sand runs, perhaps for
thirty miles or more, into the land. The open-
ing of the mine is perhaps a thousand feet from
the shore, and it is necessary to go down about
one hundred and fifty feet, which is some thirty
or forty feet below the level of the sea. To
keep the mine as dry as possible, there are sev-
eral pumps working day and night; and to pre-
vent the earth from falling in, the passages are
propped up by logs of wood. There are about
forty miles of passageway in these mines, and
there are about seven hundred men employed
for the various departments. As soon as a pas-
1- ,_.. 1... is opened, a track is laid, and on this
track there runs a little truck, which holds per-
haps half a ton of sand. The miners simply
cut out the sand and fill the truck. It is then
brought to the surface, when the entire con-
tents are thrown into a long trough filled with
rushing water, which separates the sand from
the amber, which is caught by nets of various
sizes. The amber is then cleaned by machinery,
and assorted according to its quality and purity.
The writer believes himself to be the first
American who ever went down into the amber
F. R. KALDENBERG, in the Swiss Cross.


ITTIE LEE, look how faded and
small your cloak is You have grown
too big for it." And Jessie Scott took
up the childish hand that hung beside her own,
as they walked home from school. See how
far your dress sleeve comes down below your
sack. It is too short for you. Why don't you

ask your mamma to buy you a plaid shawl like
Susie's and mine?"
"0, Jessie! My mamma says she cannot
afford to get me one," replied Kitty with a lit-
tle sigh.
"We girls will all go and ask her, won't
we?" said Jessie, turning to a merry group of
children, on their way home together.
"I am afraid she will feel bad to have you
ask her," ventured Kitty, "for I know she
would get me one if she could."
"Oh! she won't feel bad, Kitty; perhaps
she does not know how much you want it.
Will she be home from school now ?"
"I guess so."

V 7



A merry group of little girls from five to ten
years old trooped into Mrs. Lee's cosey sitting-,
room, and found her just laying aside her hait
and cloak.
"O, Mrs. Lee !" said Jessie, "we have come
to ask you to buy Kittie a shawl like ours," andi
she arranged in a row four or five attractive
little figures in new plaid shawls. We have
got them, and they are so nice and warm that
Kitty wants one, too."
"No one would like better to get one than'







<* O

I would for Kitty, my dears, but just now I
cannot do it."
"Oh! do get it, do, Mrs. Lee," chimed in
a chorus of voices. "They don't cost so very
much, and I don't believe you know how much
little girls want things sometimes."
"Yes, my little girls, I know very well how
much Kitty wants and really needs it, but the
dear Lord has not given me the money to get
it this winter," answered Mrs. Lee in a sad
"Don't tease her any more, girls, please
don't," said Kitty, almost ready to cry because
she had not said No at once, when her friends
proposed asking her mamma.
The little party left the house, and after
waiting until they were far enough away to be
out of hearing Jessie said, "I do think it is
mean Kitty can't have anything she wants since
her papa died."
"No, girls, Mrs. Lee is not mean," said a
bright, blue-eyed, flaxen-haired little one. "My
papa says Mrs. Lee is very poor now, and I am
sure she is a lovely teacher, and Kitty loves her
mamma dearly. Everybody does not have all
the money they want."
Mr. Lee had been a professor in the academy
at the city of M- and with his wife and lit-
tle daughter was very ,. .1 [. in their pleasant
home. But overwork and fatigue one summer
laid him low with fever. And after a few
weeks he died. He was young, and looking
forward to a long life, like many others, death
'overtook him, without making any provision
for his family. Poor Mrs. Lee was for a time
So prostrated with grief at her terrible loss, that
Ihe could not make any effort to help herself.
A position as primary teacher was offered her,
r :nd gladly accepted. Kitty was now six years
oiid, and as only little more than a year had
passed since her father's death, there were many
ii -ore ways for money than Mrs. Lee could meet.
It was bed-time and little Kitty came to her
nnamma to say her evening prayer. Clasping
h( r arms about her neck she asked, Mamma,
w. 'uld it be wrong to ask God to give me a
,4,:.lid shawl? "
"Certainly it would not, my darling," and
sih pressed a loving kiss upon the sweet face so
c lse to her own.

So the innocent child knelt beside her mam-
ma and in simple faith asked the dear Lord to
bless them, and added, "Please, God, all the
money and all the things in the world are yours!
please send me a plaid shawl! Please do, dear
Jesus! I want it so much."
Kittie's head was laid on her pillow that
night with a trusting faith that her wants
would be supplied by that Hand who was so
well able to do it.
Next day, although Kittie watched for her
answer it did not come, so at evening time her
little prayer was repeated with the same faith
and trust. Several days passed in this way.
Each night Kittie's petition was not forgotten:
"Please, dear Jesus, send me a plaid shawl."
About a week after, as the child was ready
for bed, she looked into her mamma's face, say-
ing, Mamma, God always hears our prayers,
doesn't he ?"
He always hears, my darling, but He does
not always answer as we expect He will. Some-
times He thinks it is not best for us to have
what we ask Him for, and so IIe gives something
that He knows is better for us. We cannot
always know what is best for us. But lHe
knows, and iHe always hears, and He has prom-
ised to answer our prayers in his own way."
Well, mamma, I am going to keep on ask-
ing Him. Maybe He is too busy to listen, but
a bright angel might run and tell Him to hear,
for a little girl is praying. I am sure He will
answer me, mamma."
So the childish voice pleaded: Dear Jesus,
love mamma and me! Make me a good girl,
and bring me a plaid shawl so that I can say
Jesus gave it to me."
Next morning before they started for school
a gentleman called at the door, and saying with
a cheery voice, "Good-morning, Mrs. Lee,"
handed her a package. "I was buying a shawl
for my little daughter, and thinking Kittie
might like one, I bought one for her, too."
Mrs. Lee, with tears in her eyes, told him the
story of the childish faith and prayer, adding,
"'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the
least of these my children, ye have done it unto
me.' May God bless you for it."
He went away, leaving such joy and thanks-
giving and praise to the dear Jesus who had


heard and answered prayer, as they could hardly
find words in their full hearts to express.
"But," said Kittie, "Mr. Smith is not God."
"No, darling, but God put the thought of you
into his heart, and through him the dear Lord
has answered your prayer for the plaid shawl."
What a happy Thanksgiving was theirs !

A CONTEMPORARY gives the following
in regard to Japanese courtesy : "When
a couple of Japanese acquaintances encounter
each other in the street -no matter whether
high or low, male or female, old or young--
they stand with their feet somewhat apart and
bow repeatedly while rubbing their bended
knees with their hands, drawing in their breath
as they rise, and closing their lips with a sud-
den gasp as they flop down again. The con-
versation opens with a sigh and a dry cough:
' Schibaraku o me ni kakarimasen,' i. e., It is
a long time since I hung upon your eyes. I
have not seen you this long while.' Reply:
Deep sigh with a short cough, i. e., 'Yes, alas !
alas! I have long been deprived of the pleasure
of gazing on your features.' Q.: How is it
with your respected husband and the charming
baby?" R.: Sigh and cough as before, i. e.,
'Best thanks for your kind inquiry; they are
both quite well.' -' Since I last had the pleasure
of hanging on your eyes, you have grown much
older and also rather stouter.' R.: Sigh and
cough, i. e., Many thanks for the compliment,
but I am afraid you flatter me.' And so on,
ad libitum, until they part again after series of
bows. If the salutation takes place in the
house, where the cleanliness of the mats affords
fuller play to the instincts of politeness, they
kneel down, place their elbows and hands, palms
downwards, on the floor, and touch the mat
with their forehead. They remain in this atti-
tude, gently murmuring complimentary phrases,
interrupted with sighs, until one of them, feel-
ing the blood rise to his brain, cautiously lifts
his head to peep whether his vis-a-vis has
changed his position; if this is the case they
both slowly work their way upwards; but if
the other still keeps his head on the ground, the
first one quickly ducks down again so as not to
be outdone in politeness by his partner."


HEN Samuel F. B. Morse, afterwards
famous as the inventor of the electric
telegraph, was a young painter studying in
London, he made a drawing from a small cast
of the Farnese Hercules, intending to offer it
to Benjamin West as an example of his work.
Being very anxious for the favorable opinion
of the master, he spent a fortnight upon the
drawing, and thought he had made it perfect.
When Mr. West saw the drawing he exam-
ined it critically, commended it in this and that
particular, then handed it back, saying: "Very
well, sir, very well; go on and finish it."
But it is finished," said the young artist.
"0 no!" said Mr. West; "look here, and
here, and here," and he put his finger upon
various unfinished places.
Mr. Morse saw the defects, now that they
were pointed out to him, and devoted another
week to remedying them. Then he carried the
drawing again to the master. Mr. West was
evidently much pleased, and lavished praises
upon the work; but at the end he handed it
back, and said, as before: Very well, indeed,
sir; go on, and finish it."
"Is it not finished?" asked Mr. Morse, by
this time all but discouraged.
Not yet; you have not marked that muscle,
nor the articulations of the finger-joints."
The student once more took the drawing
home, and spent several days in retouching it.
He would have it done this time. i
But the critic was not yet satisfied. The
work was good, "very good indeed; remark.
ably clever;" but it needed to be "finished."
"I cannot finish it," said Mr. Morse, ir>
"Well," answered Mr. West, "I have tried
you long enough. You have learned more b-y
this drawing than you would have accomplished
in double the time by a dozen half-finished
drawings. It is not numerous drawings, bitt
the character of one, that makes a thorou h
draughtsman. Finish one picture, sir, and y!iu
are a painter."
It was a good lesson. One principal part of
a teacher's business is too keep his pupil frotp
being too easily satisfied.-Exchange.



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* ~ '.






T HE winter set in very gloomily. Ralph,
leaning over the kitchen table, listening
to his mother while she talked with Mr. Brew-
ster, thought there had never seemed a darker,
and could not help thinking privately that his
mother was a little, just a little, foolish. Oh!
of course he did not put it in those words, even
to himself, but that was what the thought
meant, all the same.
This was the way matters stood. Mr. Selmser
was out of work, and had been for some time
away from Ilome looking for a chance to earn
his living; that very morning had come a letter
from him saying he had only succeeded in get-
ting enough to do to earn his board, and he saw
no prospect in the future, but would hold on a
few days longer. Now here sat Mr. Brewster,
who had come to offer Ralph's father a place.
"I'd be very glad to have him," said the gentle-
man. I know him to be a good, steady man,
one to be relied upon. It isn't much of a place
now, but there might be a better opening before
long. We can't tell what may happen."
Mrs. Selmser sewed on, and Ralph wondered
what in the world she could mean, and was
almost tempted to answer for her. At last she
"It isn't the wages, Mr. Brewster, nor the low-
down place, as you may say. My husband is
not one to wait for good places. He would saw
wood for a living, if there wasn't anything else
to do, and be thankful to get it. But I don't
think he could take this job, even if it came to
Halph looked amazed, not to say disgusted,
and Mr. Brewster, mildly astonished, waited for
an explanation.
You see it is a matter of principle," ex-
plained Mrs. Selmser. Reuben doesn't believe

in the business ; of course he oughtn't to help
it along."
A patient smile covered Mr. Brewster's face.
"Oh is that the trouble?" he said, in a kindly
tone. Well, my dear madam, you can set
your heart at rest; all in the world we shall
have for him to do is to cart empty barrels
from the manufactory to the warehouse. There
certainly cannot be any moral question about
Mrs. Selmser's needle flew very fast. The
question is, what goes into the barrels ?" she
said at last, speaking gently but very firmly.
Mr. Brewster laughed. "I can't imagine
what my porter would have to do with such a
question," he said, still speaking with a show
of kindness. "He is paid for carting barrels,
and as I look at it, it is none of his business in
any way what is done with them after they
leave his hands."
Mrs. Selmser stayed her needle and looked
steadily at her caller.
"It was kind in you to think of us, Mr.
Brewster, and I thank you. But I know my
husband well enough to be sure that lie will
have nothing to do with barrels that are going
to have beer put into them; so there wouldn't
be any use in sending for him."
"Very well, madam," said Mr. Brewster,
rising as he spoke. There were two red spots
on his cheeks by this time. "I suppose there
is no use in my telling you that I think him a
very foolish man indeed, and that he will be
likely to starve his family before this hard win-i
ter is over, if he tries to live by such a squeam-
ish conscience as that. But my duty is done,
so I will bid you good-evening."
"Mother," said Ralph, almost before thb-
door closed after him, I don't see how yo)
dared to say that to Mr. Brewster. HIe is a
very great man -the greatest man. in this
town. The boys said to-day that he was thec
richest man in the country."
I have nothing to do with that," said Mrs.
Selmser. "I had to answer him, and there
was nothing else to say, as I look at things." i
But don't you think you are a little bit --a
little bit "- said Ralph, hesitating for a world,
and leaving a blank at last. "You know father
wouldn't have to touch beer, and, as M'r.


Brewster said, what is it to him what goes into
the barrels?"
S"What difference does it make with you, my
son, if a boy in school borrows your knife to
cut a hole in his desk, and you know what he
is going to do, yet you open your knife and
hand it to him? "
That's different," said Ralph.
;; "Yes, it is," said his mother, "because the
mischief would only be done to a piece of
wood, while beer, now" and she, too, left her
sentence blank.
"Come," she said, after a few minutes of
silence, "read the verses and we will have
prayers, without waiting for Mary Jane. She
said she would be late to-night. They are get-
ting ready for a Christmas dinner, you know."
It is more than we are doing," said Ralph,
with a sigh. I don't see how we are to have
any kind of dinners if father can't get work.
Shall I read some marked verses, mother? "
Yes, do," said Mrs. Selmser. Let us have
some of mother's good words to-night to help
us, and don't you worry about the dinners,
Ralph. Don't you remember one of the verses
-' Verily, thou shalt be fed' ?"
One would think Mr. Brewster ought to
know right from wrong," said Ralph, with an-
other sigh. He is a great man."
Then he turned, without much thought about
it, to the very first marked verse on which his
eye alighted, Great men are not always wise."
Why," said Ralph in astonishment, isn't
that strange ? Did you know that was in the
Bible, mother? Why do you suppose Grandma
marked that ?"
Maybe she had something to do with great
men herself, some time," said Mrs. Sclmscr,
with a pleasant smile. She was very glad
Ralph had found that verse. A lesson that he
needed very much to learn was that it took
more than money to make greatness.
A few minutes more and the short, earnest
prayer had been offered, the door locked, the
fire covered for the night, and the kitchen
deserted. Meantime, Mary Jane had sent
word by a neighbor that there were so many
last" things to do, in order to be ready for
the next day, she had decided to stay all night
and help them through.

Ralph could not help another sigh as he
turned to give a last look at the room. It was
in perfect order, not looking at all, the boy
thought, as a room should look on Christmas Eve.
One solitary stocking hung by the chimney
corner. All the little Selmsers had agreed
that Baby, as the three-year-old Ned was
called, was the only one who could afford to
hang up his stocking this year. Ned is too
young to understand things," the mother said,
"but the rest of you do, and will be cheerful
and good, I know. Next year maybe we can
have the chimney corner full of stockings."
So Ned's hung alone. It had been a perplexing
thing to fill that stocking, and had really taken
hours of contriving. Every member of the
family had made some queer thing to put in it.
When they were all stuffed in, and it was found
to be quite filled, I think every one felt a sense
of relief. But the stocking did look lonely to
Ralph as he gave it a last look; and though he
said not a word, he thought in his heart that he
would like very well to hang his beside it, for
company. He told himself, as he climbed up-
stairs, that he didn't see any sign of ever being
able to hang up his stocking again, or to have
any nice Christmases. They were growing
poorer and poorer; if father did not get work
soon, he did not see what would become of
And so night settled down on the little home,
and the embers of the dying fire lighted the
room. But the stocking by the chimney corner
was not so lonely, after they were all gone, as
Ralph imagined. Certain queer little visitors
came out of their houses and eyed it curiously,
and sighed because it was beyond their reach.
They would have liked so much to gnaw it!
And they too grumbled over this Christmas
Eve, and said they might as well live in a
barn; there was nothing to be had in this house
worth nibbling for But they had no marked
verses on which to stay their courage.
The sunshine of the next morning had not
yet conquered the frost on the window-pane,
when Ralph, who was making a fire fo, his
mother, heard a brisk voice call his name.
"Ralph, my boy, has your father come home? "
No, sir," said Ralph, dropping his armful
of wood, and turning to open the door for Mr.


Powell, who was coming up the walk. He is
in Barton."
Has he found work yet ?"
"No, sir. Mother had a letter last night,
saying he did not know of anything yet."
Glad of it," said Mr. Powell, and as this
did not sound like a very friendly thing to say,
Ralph did not know how to answer it, so was
quiet, and by this time Mrs. Selmser had heard
the voices and come to the door.
Good-morning! said Mr. Powell, talking
fast. Can you give me just the address to
reach your husband quickly, by telegram?
Ralph tells me he has not found employment,
and I want to get hold of him as quickly as
possible. My foreman has given me the slip,
without a day's warning. I suppose he thinks
I cannot fill his place, and so will have to
bid higher, but I have been wishing for a good
chance to get your husband in the place.
I have had my eye on him for a year, but didn't
see any chance of an opening, so long as the
other behaved himself, but now that he hasn't,
it is all right. I will telegraph your husband
to come home by the noon train, so you better
have a Christmas dinner all ready for him.
Just send around to our supply store, madam,
for anything you want. I guess you will find
everything there, and your husband will prob-
ably deal with me, after this. I supply all my
people at cost. Brewstertold melast night yon
had refused a place for your husband in his
brewery. Glad of it. That's the grit I like.
He won't lose anything, I guess. I pay my
foreman a good salary, and it is a permanent
place if a true man wants it."
Mr. Powell talked fast, and made a short
stay. He was the largest business man in town,
and was always in a hurry, but it seemed to
Ralph he would never go. The boy wanted to
throw up his hat to the ceiling and shout, and
stand on one foot and whirl on the other, and
dance what he called a "jig," and none of these
things seemed exactly proper to do in Mr.
Powell's presence.
0 mother, mother!" lie said, as soon as he
could get breath again, after all these things
were finally accomplished, "some great men
are wise, anyhow, and Mr. Powell is a great
deal greater than Mr. Brewster ever thought of

being. Why, mother, he pays his foreman as
much as a thousand dollars a year 0, mother!
what if you had told Mr. Brewster father would
come and move his old beer bottles Wouldn't
that have been just awful?"


I came not to send peace, but a sword." -
Matt. x. 34.

IN Luke ii. 14, the angels sing of Jesus when
He was born On earth peace." At first
sight these two verses seem to contradict each
other. They do not. The blessed Book never
does that. Remember, when one thing in one
part of the Bible seems to conflict with another
part or say something which seems to be wrong,
you are to conclude that a little better under-
standing will set it all to rights in your mind.
I came not to send peace to a sinner if he
stay in his sins. There is no peace to the
wicked." There ought not to be. But as soon
as a sinner asks Jesus for forgiveness, lie gets
peace. That's the way peace comes on earth;
it is the peace of God in the heart; peace and
joy in believing.
Now when one gets this peace, it seems so
good that he wants some other one to get it, too.
So he speaks to this other one :ind urges himi to
confess his sins and seek Jesus; and in most
cases this olher one gets angry and talks against
Jesus or C'l ...11 .... That often happens in a
family where one is a true Christiim and the
others are not. You see how trouble will come.
There will be war in that family. It m:iy not
be a war of swords, but it will ie a war' of
words. Jesus does not want t lie war, amnd there
wouldn't be any if the sinner would give u1p.
But he does not usually surrender till after :
hard battle with Jesus. So Jesusi is said t1
send a sword or war. It simply means "' am
come to fight against the wrong, and people
who are on the wrong side and stay there, will
fight against me and my soldiers."
My dear, dear children, I wish you may
never be found with a sword in your hand or
mouth or heart fighting against the Lord. Let
Hlim put His sweet peace into your heart, and
when you draw the sword, draw it against sin.







SUCH a row of bright boy faces,
So manly and true and brave!
And the face of the lady before them
Is fair and sweet, though grave.

She is striving to plant the Word of God
Like seed in each boyish heart,
Knowing that sooner or later
Seed thus sown will start.

One of that goodly number-
The bravest, brightest there -
Speaks out in bold, free question,
With manly voice and air:

"What does it mean, please, teacher:
If meat make my brother offend,
Never again will I taste of meat
From now till the world shall end'?

"We must eat meat, all of us,
We boys can't do without;
We need it some, my mother says,
To make us strong and stout."

"I'm glad, dear boy, that you asked it-
The answer is one you need;
Listen, all of you, while I give it,
And ever its teaching heed.

"The words are words of the grandest
That ever the world has known;
Of him the world was unworthy -
Unworthy to call its own.

"The words are words of a king of men,
Even the Christ-like Paul -
He whom before the great light shone
Was known by the name of Saul.'

"You will read about it. I always feel"--
The sweet voice graver grew-
"Proud that I am of the self-same race,
When I think of his life so true.

"He meant when he spoke the words y--
quote, man as
Just this, and only this: another!
If any weaker brother r would
Through following him should miss couldn't

"A part of the good they were made for,
He was willing to forego
Much of the glorious liberty
That sons of the Master know. ,7,,

"If eating, or drinking, or anything
That would not injure Paul,
Would injure his weaker brother,
He would not eat at all,

"Lest following his example,
They so weak should be led astray -
Away from the path of the righteous,
The straight and narrow way.'

" I see that you understand me -
It goes into all of life -
We who are strong must give up much
To help our brother's strife."

The row of boyish faces
Had taken a graver look
As home to each young bosom
The lesson each one took.

as when
At first
ict each
>k never
Sin one
T under-
eir if lie
to the
: as soon
he gets
a earth;

But Harry, the bold, free spokesman, spoke.
And his voice had a true, glad ring,
As if to his life he had taken
A precious and joyous thing.

The voice was exultant, bold and firm:
"If meat make my brother offend,
Never again will I taste of meat
From now till the world shall end!"

EVERYBODY'S life and Bible are just made
to go together. Everybody's Bible is most fu1p
of what their lives seem most empty of shor.*,
ened in. Sometimes I think God shows Hinm-
self in as many separate Scriptures as separa te
souls; or as a soul's separate questions. It ,all
answers everything. Selected.





t, ,OB went slowly up-stairs, opened the
' '_" door, and went in. He set the candle
r;i 1-' down on the deal table that served him
for bureau, wash-stand, and all toilet
arrangements, threw off his clothes, blew out
the flickering light, and got into bed.
I ought to know how it seems to go hungry
to bed," he observed philosophically to himself
as he huddled down under the comforters, "but
somehow to-night it hurts worse than ever."
The old stairs creaked. At first Rob paid
no attention to the noise. One rat more or less
made but little difference; and despite the
pain and hollowness in his lower regions, the
boy was beginning to feel sleepy. Presently
the latch was lifted, and as he raised his aston-
ished head, he saw Aunt Philena's cap-frill
rounding the door. She held a tray in one
hand. Involuntarily Rob's nose wrinkled, while
his hungry mouth twitched.
Aunt Philena came in deliberately, put her
candle down by the side of Rob's extinguished
one, then brought the tray over to the bedside.
Goodness me !" she could not help shiver-
ing, pulling up her shawl a bit closer around
her thin neck with her free hand it's going
to be a cold night. There! hold your knees
up. I'll set the tray on 'em."
Rob's eyes glistened. Yes, there was a
generous wedge of the meat pie, and a bowl of
"Oh! now that's awful good of you," he
cried, picking up the pie, and without the pre-
liminary of a knife or fork, he set his firm,
white teeth into its midst.
Aunt Philena watched him grimly. Pres-
ently the plate was clean of all crumbs, and
every drop of milk out of the bowl. Then
Rob huddled down again under the bed clothes,
only leaving out two astonished blue eyes to
stare at her.
"I'll have to talk quick," said Aunt Philena,
shivering again in spite of herself, for it's as
cold up here as some folks' hearts. Got enough

clothes, Rob?" She passed her bony fingers
over the patched quilt.
"Yes, indeed," said the boy, wriggling in a
comforted way. Oh! that pie was so good,"
and he smacked his lips. "I'm warm enough
when I'm in, Aunt." Then he waited to hear
what she had to say.
He gets more unreasonable every day,"
said Aunt Philena abruptly, and pointing to-
ward the floor to indicate the only other occu-
pant of the homestead below stairs. If things
go on in this way, I don't know where we'll
end, Rob."
Rob, not understanding quite what to reply
to this, wisely said nothing.
"I'm sick and tired of it," declared Aunt
Philena at last, astonished at herself for fur-
nishing such a flow of confidence, "and some-
thing has got to be done. But I'm beat if I
know what."
Still Rob said not a word.
You're old enough now to understand some
things, Rob. When you were fourteen I made
up my mind I'd tell you. Your mother, if she'd
lived, would have had her rights here the same
as he and I have; now she's dead, they're
The boy sat straight up in bed now, the
clothes tossed back from his young shoulders
that had lost all fear of the cold, the light flash-
ing from his bright blue eyes, and every nerve
strained to catch the astonishing news.
Your uncle don't mean to cheat you, 'tisn't
that," she went on with a tightening of the
thin lips, as if a pain had suddenly seized her
at some unwelcome thought but it is cheat-
ing you, all the same, out of an education, that
will stand you in stead by and by, better than
this land and homestead that will all be yours,
of course."
O, Aunt! cried Rob, springing forward to
lay his brown hand on her long fingers, "if
Uncle Joel will only let me go to school, he
may have all the rest of my share in the prop-
erty. I don't want it."
Aunt Philena smiled grimly, the thin lips re-
laxing against their will. You'll want every
bit of the property when it comes time for you
to have it," she said. "You won't find it hard
to use it, dwindled down as it has, Rob. I can


remember this place actually rolling in plenty,
the house full of people, and everybody happy."
She set her lips together hard now, and fell
into a train of reverie, from which the boy,
awakened to eager aspirations, found it difficult
to rouse her.
"One thing is settled," at last she said,
slowly, you are to go to school." The boy
gave an exclamation of delight. "How it can
be managed, I don't yet see. But you and I
will keep our own counsel, and go right on just
the same. And I don't doubt the plan will come
to me. Any way, you go to school. There,
lie down now, Rob, and go to sleep." She
rose, gathered up the dish and bowl that had
been shaken off the tray, and, picking up her
candle, went out, leaving the boy still sitting
erect in the bed, with' starry eyes peering into
a future suddenly ablaze with hope.
Rob went down stairs early the next morning,
like a new boy. Mechanically, he went through
the chores that, under his uncle's arrangement,
grew a little heavier each day. But this winter
morning they did not press. Rob had other
thoughts than complaining ones as he made
the kitchen fire, fed the few animals that
belonged to the dwindled farm, and accom-
plished the other things that were necessary to
set the household in running order for the day.
And when the big bell rang for breakfast, he
w:ls surprised for once to find the meal had
come too soon for him, and he went in and
took his place, fairly aglow with light and
You are late," growled Uncle Joel, by way
of morning greeting. And then he stopped at
sight of the boy's face. Humph it does you
good once in a while to go to bed without your
supper, doesn't it?" he added with a grim
smile. "You'll try it maybe a little oftener in
the future."
Rob kept his eyes fastened on his plate, and
the rapidly disappearing mush thereon. Some-
how he felt guilty of a piece of deception with
the knowledge of the meat pie and bowl of milk
But all other reflections were presently lost
in the charming rose-colored reverie into which
ie found himself plunged, and soon he for-
got the existence of his uncle and aunt in

the wild planning of his school duties and
What do you mean, sir at last thundered
his uncle; I have spoken to you three times,
and you have not condescended to answer. Go
from the table at once."
Rob looked up, all his hot young blood in his
face. A new-born feeling of self-respect made
him throw his head back and gaze at the
wrinkled, harsh face. Was he not an equal
sharer in the home privileges as wel as the
angry old man who commanded him this way
and that, like a slave? He was on the point of
asserting this new independence, when a glance
at his aunt who sat erect as ever in her high-
backed chair at the end of the table, made him
suddenly pause, push back his chair, and go out
of the kitchen.
Uncle Joel proceeded with his breakfast
leisurely, making no remark other than to snarl
because the eggs were overdone, and the tea
cold. But Aunt Philena took everything as a
matter of course, and made no attempt at
"I've about made up my mind about that
boy," said her brother, pushing back his chair
on the conclusion of the meal, and deliberately
fastening his keen gray eyes on her. "I'm
about at the end of my patience with him.
He's an unpromising lot, at best."
He's Mary's boy, I suppose you remember,"
observed Miss Philena dryly.
Hum -yes! but he's Carter's boy as well,
and that makes all the difference in the world,"
replied Joel crossly. No, Philenn, I've tried
to make something of him quite long enough.
Now he goes."


SEIHOLD a babe, whose sunny head
SReposes on a manger bed,
A helpless Babe, and yet a King,
Whose praise the herald angels sing,
While shepherds bow with glad surprise,
Beside the manger where He lies,
And Eastern sages come from far
To hail the rising Morning Star.




'NE day mamma sat Baby Lou on the
bed and put large pillows behind her.
Then she brought some pretty play-
things and put before her. Mamma
sat down by the window and went to
sewing on a red dress for Baby.
Little Lou hugged her dolly and kissed it,
then she danced it up and down and squeezed
its head. She jingled her rattle. She bit her
ivory ring and pounded a tin cup with a spoon,
and swung her string of spools.
At last she got tired of them all. She said
to he self: I will throw my tin horse on the
floor. It will make a nice bang."
So down it went. Then she threw the string
of spools and the ring. The rattle-box went

-- -


~~il4 Y I.


next; all its little bells jingled as it fell, and
Baby laughed.
Should she throw dolly -her sweet dolly?
Yes, she must. Dolly fell on the floor with a
bump and Baby looked sorry. Now everything
was gone. She looked at mamma. She was
just going to put out her hands to beg mamma
to take her, but her eyes felt queer and her
little hands dropped down by her side. In a
second Baby was fast asleep.
Ah," said mamma, "now is a good time

for me to go down stairs and iron Baby's white
So she went and left Little Lou alone, but
she was safe, because the dear God sends angels
to watch over babies while they sleep.
By and by Baby Lou waked up. She turned
her head to the window to look at mamma, but
no mamma was there. Her chair was empty.
Then Baby was afraid. She doubled up her
fcrt little hand and rubbed her eye and began
to cry.
But what was that queer little noise ?
"Peep, peep, peep! "
Baby stopped crying and looked about her.
What did she see? Why, a lovely little yellow
bird hopping around on the bed.
It was Jip, who lived in a pretty cage that
hung on a nail by the window. His door had
been left open, so he came out to see Baby.
Baby did not know Jip could walk. She
opened her eyes wide and stared at him.
He picked at the threads in the spread,
then he turned his head on one side and
looked at Baby with his little round eyes.
He hopped up on the foot board at last
and sung a sweet song. Baby smiled at
Mamma had some callers. They kept
her a long time, but little Lou was not
afraid, because the dear bird was with
When mamma came in Jip was stand-
ing on Baby's pillow, and she was talking
funny little Baby words to him.
"Good little Jip," said mamma, "did you
take care of precious Baby? Jip shall have a
lump of sugar."

"You know Truth by being true; you recog-
nize God by being like Him." Even a little
child can understand this.





-RALPH moved restlessly about the room,
not seeming able to settle anything. The
little girls were ready for church, and his
mother had twice told him that he would be
late, before he made up his mind to speak:
"I don't believe I'll go to church to-day,
"Are you sick?" his mother asked, pausing
in the midst of her bustling about, and looking
at him anxiously.
"No, ma'am, not sick exactly, but you know
I have a cold," he said, giving a little cough,
as if to prove his words. "I don't feel just
like going, somehow."
Well," said Mrs. Selmser, speaking with a
little hesitation, as one who didn't half-like
what she was going to say, you know we like
to have all the family about us in church, and
it ought to be an important reason that keeps
one at home, but then, if you don't feel well
enough to go, that is reason enough. You are
sure you have not a sore throat?" and she
looked at him anxiously.
0, no, ma'am! my throat isn't sore a bit;
it is just a cold, you know." And again he
tried that little cough.
"Well," said Mrs. Selmser again, "I sup-
pose you will have to stay at home. But what
will you do all the morning? Perhaps I would
better stay with you."
Oh no, indeed," Ralph said, "I wouldn't
have you do that for anything. I can get along
all right. I've got a nice book to read."
Mrs. Selmser did not look as pleased as she
might have done over this bit of news. The
Bible is the best book to read on Sunday when
people cannot go to church," she said gravely.
"Oh! I shall read the Bible," Ralph an-

swered eagerly. I'm going to read my chapter
the first thing, and some of my marked verses,
before I open my Sunday-school book."
"And live up to them? Reading Bible
verses doesn't amount to much, you know,
unless you do what they say."
Why, of course," said Ralph, but he spoke
less confidently than before. He knew enough
about the Bible to realize that it was sometimes
a hard book to live up to.
In another hour the family were all gone,
and Ralph was alone in the neat kitchen, with
the fire burning brightly, and his attractive-
looking book on his lap. He had read a few
pages in it the night before, but he did not
himself realize how much this had had to do
with his not feeling well enough to go to church.
His friend, Bennie Stone, had given it.to him
on Saturday morning, to return to the library
for him, and secure another, because he was
going to his grandmother's to spend Sunday,
and could not do it for himself. Ralph had
not looked into the book until night, and then,
as I say, had found it delightful. All the while
he was undressing, he tried to plan how he
might read that book. He could not draw.it
from the school, because it would be his turn
to-morrow to have a book for which he had
been waiting several weeks. If he let this
opportunity pass, there was no telling when he
would have another. It was just as he. was
hopping into bed, that the thought came to
him: "If I shouldn't happen to be well
enough to go to church to-morrow morning, I"
might read it then."
On the whole, I do not think it strange that
by morning he thought himself not very well.
The book lay on his lap, but Ralph was mind-
ful of his promise, and reached for Grandmother's
Bible. First his chapter he was reading the
Bible through in course. The chapter for the
day proved to be almost entirely composed of
proper names. Ralph tried to give them atten-
tion, but could not help thinking how uninterest-
ing they were. Now, for a marked verse; he
decided that he would read only one to-day,
and that he would take it from the Gospels-
the first marked verse he saw. This was the
verse: "As His custom was, he went into the
synagogue on the Sabbath day." Ralph read it


through twice before he began to realize what
" living up" to this verse was going to mean
to him.
Gradually the thought shaped itself in his
mind: "That verse is about Jesus, and to live
up to it, I must do as near like Him as I can.
Well, don't I, I should like to know? When
have I stayed away from church before? A
fellow can't go to church when he has a cold.
Disturb all the people coughing. Poh! Ralph
Selmser, what's the use ? You know you haven't
coughed but three times this morning; and two
of those you could have smothered if you had
wanted to. And you know if it was Monday,
and there was a coasting spree on the hill,
you would coax like a good fellow, to go, and
know forty reasons why it wouldn't hurt you."
Were there two people talking ? Ralph felt a
little curious about it himself ; they seemed to
hold such different views; but he knew this
much: both of them lived in his heart. Silence
for a few minutes, during which time Ralph
read the marked verse again. Then he rose up,
stretched himself, looked in the glass in the
clock face to make sure that his hair was all
right, and made this remark: It is my opinion,
Ralph Selmser, that you had better do as your
custom is,' and make for church as fast as your
legs can carry you."
It was during the singing of the second hymn
that he slipped past his father and took a seat
at his mother's side. For the benefit of those
interested, I want to report that he did not
cough once during the service.
What has become of your cold?" asked his
mother after the benediction was pronounced.
"Gone," he answered with a queer smile.
"There was a verse in Grandmother's Bible
that cured it."
Mrs. Sehnser asked no more questions; in
some respects she was a wise woman. On the
way home from church she said she shouldn't
wonder if mother's Bible would be worth a
fortune to the children.

I KNOW no sweeter way to heaven than
through free grace and hard trials together.
And, where grace is, hard trials are seldom


SI 'ARION was not jealous of her little
J cousin; she had smiled on her brightly
@ this New Year's morning, and helped
her count the many things she had
to be glad over, and had gotten
through the first half of the hard day without
shedding a tear. It was when little Lora climbed
a chair and put both chubby arms around her
mother's neck, as she said, "What would Lora
do without her dear, dear mamma?" that
Marion felt a great lump rise in her throat, and
had to turn away quickly to hide the tears.
Even then she was not jealous, only very, very
Let me tell you about her. Just one year
before, on New Year's day, she had been living
in the beautiful Southland, with her father and
mother and two big brothers. The day had
been a very happy one. Marion remembered
that the New Year's dinner had been served on
the south piazza, where the sunshine made
everything warm and bright. She remem-
bered that they had green peas for dinner,
picked that day from their own garden.
Only a year since that time, and now she was
in the frozen North alone. Father, mother,
and brothers all gone! She had not even a
relative in this country with whom she could
An old friend of her father's had sent for her,
brought her to his home, taught her to call
him uncle, and the whole family had adopted
her, and did everything they could to make her
happy. Lora had counted her that very morn-
ing as one of the things she had to be glad
over. Yet I think you can understand why
she found it hard to keep back the tears.
She ran down stairs and took refuge from
some one who was coming down the hall, in the
first room she reached. This proved to be the
refreshment room, for, as I have told you, it
was New Year's day, and Miss Helena was re-
ceiving calls. There was no one in the room
when Marion entered, but in a moment more
two young men came from the parlor. One of
them went to the refreshment table, and began
to help himself, the other stood one side and
waited for him.


Shall I pour you a cup of coffee, Nellis ?"
asked his friend.
No, thanks; I have drank all the coffee I
care for to-day. I will wait here for you." He
stepped nearer the deep window seat, behind
whose heavy curtains Marion had hidden her-
self. There he saw the pale little girl in a
black dress, with the tears still slowly follow-
ing one another down her cheeks. He was a
special friend of the family, and knew Marion's
sad story, though she did not know him very
Happy New Year! he said softly, respect-
ing her evident desire to hide. Have you
been happy to-day ?"
Marion struggled with her tears, and tried to
control her voice, as she said, "No, sir."
Not ? he said, putting a surprised tone into
his voice. "Isn't that rather strange on this
first bright day of the New Year?"
She could not help feeling a little indignant.
What was a bright day to her? Of course
he did not know about her, but it seemed
to Marion as though everybody ought to know
just what a desolate little girl she was. She
turned her head a little, so she could see his
face, and said, "This is the first New Year's
day I ever spent away from my father, and
mother, and brothers, and they are all dead,
and I am alone."
The sentence had been commenced bravely,
but her poor little voice failed her before
its close, and the last word was almost a
wail. Still she made very little noise. The
gentleman at the other end of the room,
drinking coffee, and eating cake, did not hear
her at all.
"I know," said the tall gentleman by the
window, bending forward a little, and speaking
very gently, but there is another way to put
it: this is the first New Year's day your father
and mother and brothers ever spent in Heaven.
They are safe and glad and happy forever, and
the reason they can be happy there without
their little daughter is because they have left
her in the care of One who is so wise and good
and great, that they know He never makes a
mistake about anything. And they know He
has promised that just as soon as the right
time comes, their daughter shall come home to

them to live forever. Meantime, while she is
waiting here, this great Friend whom her
parents love and serve, has a little work for her
to do. Part of it is to show people how en-
tirely she trusts Him, and that she can be cheer-
ful and happy because she knows she is in His
hands, and He has made no mistake."
There were still tears on Marion's face, but
she was smiling before these sentences were
"Thank you," she said, I never thought of
it that way. I did not know that I ought to
be happy without them, and sometimes it made
me feel badly to think they could be happy
even in Heaven without me. I won't ever feel
so, any more."
Come, Nellis," said the coffee-drinker, "we
ought to be moving. We shall not get half-
way down our list at this rate."
"All ready," said his friend. "Good-by! "
This last word spoken softly to the shadow
behind the curtain; and he went away, hav-
ing used his opportunity to bind up a bruised
heart. PANSY.


(The Blessed. -Matt. v. 3-9.)

A LITTLE boy was once distressed over
these seven verses because they seemed
to describe seven different persons with a
different promise and some of the promises
not so good as others. One especially,
" They shall inherit the earth," seemed to
him very nice. But what's all the earth,"
he asked, "if one hasn't any heaven?" At
last the thought came to him: What if
these seven verses are all about the same per-
sons? What if they are a picture of God's
Child ? What if Jesus has painted it for me to
look at and study and try to be like?" His
distress gave way to peace and joy. Jesus
seemed to be looking out of that dear picture
and whispering, "My child, I want you to be
poor in spirit, to be merciful, to be pure in
heart, to be a peacemaker and much more.
Study this picture at horn in school, every-
where; I want to make you like it."

~~3.7 *,Li
-t ~ .4'A..~-I

* 1 I .I .4

t .

t_ .._.I









i. E goes away," said Joel Slocum again,
with a long look into his sister's face.
Miss Philena drew her breath hard.
S Once she unfolded her thin lips as if to
say something, then, thinking better of
it, shut them again, and a dead silence fell
between the two.
I shall go over and make the necessary ar-
rangements with Barker to-day," observed Joel
after the pause had lasted so long that the tick-
ing of the old clock pursued them with a sense
of discomfort; "lie's ready to take him any
time, only I didn't want to bind him over till
I'd given him more chances to behave himself
lere. But the boy's beyond me; I can't man-
age him, I'm free to confess. And you-well,
Philena, you've taken away what little hope
there was of his being aui, tlinr,. He's just got
the upper hands of you. That's plain enough
to see."
"Are you going to bind that boy out to
Jedediah Barker ?" demanded Miss Philena in
a shrill gust, and starting forward in her chair
to fix her keen black eyes on the irritated face
before her. What Mary's boy?"
"Indeed I am !" cried Joel flatly, and throw-
ing all the defiance possible to his nature up to
meet the black eyes, under whose steady gaze
he quailed inwardly. "And it'll be the making
of the boy. Barker runs the best farm in the
county, and there the youngster will learn how
to work properly, and get some wholesome dis-
cipline, a thing lie's never had here, to teach
him steady habits."
"You seem to forget that along with Jede-
diah Barker's reputation for the finest farm in
the country, has gone the other report of his
cruelty to his work-people, and his stingy, close
ways. If all is true that is told of him, it isn't
the place to trust a dog in, let alone a boy--
And our Mary's boy."
"You are forever harping on 'our Mary's
boy,' cried Joel sharply, and turning off on his
,heel to pace to the window. "A boy is a boy,

whether he was Mary's or some other woman's.
And don't I know what's better for the proper
training of one than you who've sat in the
chimney corner all your life and let things
go to rack and ruin, pray tell ? Rob isn't going
to be hurt over there to Barker's. The man
wouldn't dare to do him harm, seeing he's our
relation. And he will learn that life isn't made
up of lazy truckling to an uncle and aunt who
let him have his own head, because it's too
much trouble to do anything else with him. I
shall see Barker to-day."
He came back to stand in front of his sister.
When she looked at him, she knew that it was
well to change her tactics. For once Joel
would do as he said.
"Who's going to do the work here?" she
asked, as if this were the chief obstacle to
providing a place for Rob.
"I've got that all planned," said her brother,
with a triumphant laugh. It's been all settled
for weeks that whenever I bound Rob out, I
should take one of Barker's boys that he hasn't
much use for."
"Oh!" Miss Philena repressed the shiver
that came creeping over her. A cruel fate
seemed desperately near to closing around
Rob. She must work quickly. Even as this
truth flashed through her, she experienced a
delightful thrill at the novelty of being called
upon for prompt executive action.
Well, if you've made up your mind to do
it," she managed to say carelessly, why, of
course you must, that's all. But remember, he
don't go to Barker's with my consent."
"All right. He goes without it, then," said
Joel, with an unpleasant laugh. And though
astonished at her quick relinquishing of Rob's
cause, he was nevertheless gratified at the pros-
pect of losing the wordy entanglement that had
threatened him. And, manlike, as soon as every-
thing was made smooth for the quick execution
of his idea, lie began to think there was not so
much need to take the long drive that morning.
"I'll put you up a lunch," said his sister
presently, getting out of her chair. "You'll
be gone all day, I s'pose," and she disappeared
into the buttery.
"I d'no as I shall go over there to-day, after
all," said Joel, going to the small window, and


squinting at the clouds. "It looks like rain.
It does rain now," as a few drops fell aslant
the little panes.
Miss Philena drew a long breath in her safe
corner behind the buttery door, and clasped
her hands. Providence was tender, after all,
and the boy might be saved.
I shall drop a line to Barker and let him
know I am going to-morrow," said Joel, turning
off to the tall secretary in the corner. "After
all, that's best; but I'll go to-morrow, rain or no
rain, for I'm determined to have it over with."
"All right," said Miss Philena, coming out
of the buttery, then I'll do up my dishes."
SI'll have the lunch early in the morning,"
,said Joel, hunting for a pen in the little drawer,
" for I shall be off in good time, so's to be home
before dark."
His sister vouchsafed no reply, but set up a
rattling among the breakfast things that showed
her mind intent on her morning work.
Uncle Joel, unaccustomed to letter-writing,
soon forgot, in the pangs the present one was
*causing him, the presence or absence of another,
and the kitchen had been deserted for a half-
hour or so, when he looked around, and missing
his sister, called out, Philena! say, Philena !"
What do you want?" said a voice in the
-upper hall.
"Where are you?" he answered, not getting
out of his chair.
Up-stairs doing my work. I'm going to
look over some things in the garret. May be up
there an hour. Do you want anything?"
"No," he called back. He had wanted to
ask her if there were two c's in necessary,
but reflecting that a woman was apt to be a
trifle tart when called from her feminine occupa-
tions, he concluded that it was better to risk the
spelling and let her alone. So he put in two
to be on the safe side, and escape the charge of
u; ,ir.ll in .:..4 with his letters.
What in the name of sense she's doing
looking over things in that garret, passes me,"
he muttered. She's forever at it," which was
quite true. Miss Slocum, missing much of the
.enjoyment that falls to other women, found it
in the excitement of living in the past, always
produced by a temporary sojourn among the
battered hats, unused garments and old furni-

ture of a by-gone generation, reposing in the
garret of the homestead. So as she was going
to be up there, Joel dismissed her from his
thoughts, and his letter being at last completed,
he went out to proceed to the village centre to
post it.
Miss Philena watched him from the cob-
webbed garret window, and throwing down the
moth-eaten pantaloons she was examining,
seized a small leather bag she had laid carefully
on the lid of the chest from which she had
drawn it, and hurried over the stairs and out to
the barn.
Rob," she said, with a short metallic click
to each syllable, you mustn't ask any questions,
because there isn't any time to answer them.
I'll tell you everything you need to know.
Your uncle is going to bind you out to-morrow
to Jedediah Barker unless I save you. But I
can't unless you do exactly as I tell you." She
laid her hand on his arm now.
"Hush! don't speak," as he straightened up,
the axe with which he was chopping the gnarled
sticks falling to his side, every minute is
precious. He may be home soon. Listen!
You run right up garret as quick as you can.
There's a pair of pantaloons lying on the chest
by the window. They were your uncle's when
he was your size. I meant to give 'em to you
before, but he thought you better wait awhile.
Get into 'emi as fast as you can and put on
your Sunday jacket, then come to me."
Rob, with wide eyes, sprang off, and was soon
back, throwing on the coat as he ran, although
it seemed an age to Miss Philena, sitting on an
old log with her gray woollen skirt picked up
around her.
"Now, Rob," she said, getting up as he
dashed into the old barn, "you are to go to
Mary Ellis' over in Notting, you understand,
and give her this note." Miss Philena picked
it out of her gray woollen waist and set it
within the brown hand. You must do exactly
as she tells you in everything. I don't tell you
what you are going to do, or where you are
going, remember, but whatever she says will be
right. Your part is just to obey. Now, here,"
she drew out of her ample pocket the leather
bag and thrust it into his hand. "I can't stop
to sew it into your clothes, because I'm afraid


he'll be home, but Mary will do it for you.
It's money; be careful of it."
Money! ejaculated Rob, his eyes starting
out. He had never held money in his life, ex-
cept a few cents at a time, when entrusted with
an errand at the baker's or grocer's. And this
bag seemed quite heavy.
"Hush!" warned his aunt, her finger on her
lips; "don't speak, but go, and God bless you! "
With a sudden movement, she laid her angu-
lar hand on the boy's thick crop of brown hair.
"Don't you ever do a thing you wouldn't have
wished your mother to know."
Rob set on his well-worn cap with an unsteady
hand, then looked up at his aunt. I should
like to kiss you," he said ; "I never have, you

.*., -.
1'S.. -;
-- ~:t~ p


For answer Aunt Philena's long arms sud-
denly gathered him up, then as abruptly she
pushed him off. Go! and she disappeared
within the house.
Rob heard with dazed ears the shuffling tread
of his uncle coming down the road, and slipping
the l)tg into his pocket, he skulked out of the
back door, being careful to keep within the
shadow of the barn till a friendly thicket
received him from view.



FTER that the choir marched out,
singing as they went, and Ben-Hadad,
turning to give a good-by look to the
Madonna and the Child, went out, too.
On the way home he kept his eyes
open, as he had promised to do, for some un-
comfortable person to invite to his Christmas
feast. Just as he was turning the last corner,
he came upon a little colored girl, a ragged
shawl wrapped about her, leaning against a
stone wall, right in the snow, and fast asleep.
She must be having pleasant dreams, Ben-Hadad
thought, for she was smiling in a way that did
not seem to indicate that
she was uncomfortable.
"But she must be
"' Awfully cold," said Ben,
"and she will freeze if
she stays there asleep.
'\ I think," he added re-
'.'' / flectively, that she is
one of the 'least.' Any-
how, I'm going to wake
her up."
This was no sooner
,1' ^ said than done. Th e
girl, roused from her
slumber, sleepily cried,
S "Heah you, Jawge
Washin'ton! i"
Ben-Hladad laughed.
S "I'm not George Wash-
S ington," he said, and the
darky, noticing the
strange voice, openid lier
eyes and stared at hiam.
"It is cold," lie said. "If you stay here
asleep, you will freeze. Haven't you any place
to stay? "
The girl nodded and arose slowly. I
reckon I kin fin' a bar'l, or I kin get took up,
Ben-Hadad, not being acquainted with that
class of people whose comfort while sleeping
depends upon their being "took up" by a
policeman for vagrancy, did not understand


the girl's plan of lodging in the lock-up, and
was satisfied.
Look here !" he said, "are you uncomfort-
able ?"
His new acquaintance laughed. "Dishyeah
niggah," she observed, don't git much else."
Without attempting to parse her sentence,
Ben-IHadad resolved that she was eligible to a
place at his feast, and proceeded,-
"Do you know to-morrow is Christmas ? "
I reckon."
How are you going to celebrate ? "
"Do' know."
Well, if you want something to eat, and a
chance to get warm, you come around to my
house at six o'clock to-morrow evening to a
Christmas party. Will you ?"
Ilia acquaintance was grinning now, having
gotten over her astonishment sufficiently during
the early pirt of his invitation.
)ishyeah :, '... will be dere, ef she ain't
dead nor froze." And Ben-Hadad taking this
as an aisinraiice that she would be happy to
accept," pointed out his home, and then made
all sped for it, for Mother IIadad was at the
door, lhmp in hand, looking anxiously up the
street for him.
Mother," lie said, I've got my other one ;
and such singing as I heard! It sounded like
the angels' song, only it wasn't 'Good-will
toward men.'"
It is all good-will toward men," said Mother
Hadad, as she bent over and kissed his forehead,
" whatever belongs to C('I -r,,n That is what
our party is going to be."
Christmas morning dawned beautiful and
bright, although the air was still very cold, and
the snow had not melted at all. Before the
sun ha:d had time to warm tihe air, or to make
the lit tl icicles drop their tears of disgust oin
the j:avement, 1Ben-Iladad had gono :round to
get, Mr. Sanborn's Christmas present. And
lo it had turned out to be a turkey instead of
a chicken, all dressed and stuffed, and some
apple-pies and doughnuts! HIow splendid this
would be, thought the young host, for their
party. For although he had hung up his
stocking with success, and had received some
deliglitful Christmas presents, nothing gave him
s;o much pleasure as the thought of the coming-

feast. Uncle Flatiron had been invited and
had gruffly consented to come. Ben-Hadad
feared only that his dark-skinned guest would
not be there.
"You will have to go out in the highways
and hedges for a substitute," said Mother
Hadad, "if she doesn't, but I have no doubt
she will appear."
Mother," said Bennie, the birds are here
again, and they look hungrier than they did
Mother Hadad came to the window to look
at the five little sparrows who were huddled
together on one limb of the lonesome tree.
"Poor things! she said; they are uncom-
This gave Ben-Hadad an idea.
0, mother! mayn't I invite them to my
party ? "
Mother l adad laughed her little laugh that
reminded one of the ripple of a shady brook;
one that could come from smooth water, but
from dashing against little stones.
Yes," she said. "Only they will be asleep
by the time it begins. You will have to give
them a special course beforehand. They are
thinking of starting for a warm place now, to
judge from their looks."
Then I will have to hurry and invite them,"
said Ben-Hladad. "I will give them bread-
crumbs and cake-crumbs, too, seeing it's the
party. They can't have as much of a variety
as the rest, can they? Do you suppose they
would like some turkey, mother?"
"I don't think you would better try them,"
said Mother Hadad, smiling. "They will be
perfectly satisfied with a simple bill of fare."
When the birds had been to their party,
which they attended gratefully, and had eaten
their crumbs quickly and silently, not talking
about them at all, and had flown away; when
the stars had begun to peep out just a little,
bashfully, and some stray ,,. '- i. ;- were
'I ._ 1;,,__ around, looking for a place to spend
the night, Ben-lladad stood at the window, and
opening it a little, put his head out to look for
his guests.
Mother," he said, not drawing it in as he
spoke, "I wish I could have a Christmas plum-
pudding for our party."




"'You do?" asked a deep voice right at his
ear, and turning.with a start, his eyes met the
twinkling ones of a young gentleman in a big
overcoat, just going around the corner, with his
arms full of bundles.
"You do?" the voice repeated. "And
what do you want of a plum-pudding?"
Ben-Hadad looked embarrassed. "I was
speaking to mother," he said. "But I wanted
the pudding for our party."
"Do you usually put your head out of the
window when you want to speak to your
mother? What kind of a party are you going
to have? Who are coming? And what do
you want of a plum-pudding ?"
Ben-IIadad could not help looking astonished
at the man who asked so many questions, and
thought he was a little impolite, but answered
meekly: -
It is a Christmas party, sir, and only Uncle
Flatiron and a colored girl are coming. They
are two of the 'least,' you know-the most
disagreeable and the most uncomfortable persons
that I know. And I only wanted a plum-pud-
ding because they most always have them on
The man with the big overcoat seemed very
much interested. lHe laid his packages on the
window-sill, and asked questions about Uncle
Flatiron and the colored girl, and why they
had been invited, and what they were going to
have to eat. When Ben-IIadad lold about the
bird's party, he laughed very loud.
"Well," he said, "that is quite an idea. If
I come around and call, when you have had
supper, will you mind ? "
Oh! no, indeed," said Ben-Hadad, trying
to think whether there would be chairs enough
in the parlor. Just then his mother came into
the room.
Ben-Hadad," she said severely, "have you
left that window open all this time? What
are you doing?"
"I am talking to a man with a big overcoat,
that is asking me questions about the party.
He -
"Well, good-night," said the man. A
merry Christmas to you! Perhaps I'll come
"It is right in you to be civil to strangers,"

said Mother Hadad, "but not to keep the win-
dow open and make the room cold."
Very soon afterward Uncle Flatiron came,
and a little later Ben-Hadad's dusky guest, in a
brilliant costume of a red shawl and a yellow
turban, both of which appeared to have been
picked out of an ash-heap, and bore the marks
of their late residence. While the guests were
being seated and made comfortable, there came-
a knock at the front door, and a man who had
just jumped out of a cart and wanted to get
back to it, handed Ben-Hadad a package, and
saying only, Paid! hurried away. Mother
Hadad opened the parcel out on the table, and
behold it contained an English plum-pudding,,
piping hot, just from the bakery. On it was a
card, saying in fine handwriting: -


TAe "Man wilk tke Big Overcoat."

My story is already too long, and if I would,
I could not tell you all about that party. To
say that none of those present had ever at-
tended such a unique gathering before, would be
little. To say that none of them had ever had
such a good time before, would be but part of
the truth. To be sure, Uncle Flatiron growled
a great deal, but that was only to be expected,
and the unbounded delight of Sa'Yan," as the
colored girl had introduced herself, who cared
to do little but sit in a corner by the fire and
grin, iade up for all lack of good-feeling on the
part of any one else. The turkey and the
cranberries and the apple-pie and the dough-
nuts and the plum-pudding all seemed to do
their very best to be good for Ben-IIadad's
Christmas feast, and Uncle Flatiron and Sa'Yan
both did their part to dispose of them. Candy
and nuts were passed around, and then Father
Hadad, who had been as much surprised as
anybody at the party, played checkers with
Uncle Flatiron, because then the old man did
not have to try to hear anything, and Mother
Hadad sat down and talked to Sa'Yan, and
Ben-Hadad flitted about with a beaming face,
the happiest one of the company, smiling on
all the rest.
Just as a game of checkers was finished, :an


there was a lull in the conversation, there came
another knock at the door ; when it was opened,
who should stand there but the Man with the.
Big Overcoat, and leaning on his arm a beauti-
ful lady, whom he introduced to Mother Hadad
as his sister, saying they had come to make a
call on "the party," to wish them a merry
Christmas !
Mother Iadad showed them chairs, and Ben-
Hadad told how much obliged they were for
the plum-pudding, but right in the middle of
one of his sentences he stopped, for he had
been looking at the sister of the Man with the
Big Overcoat, and had discovered that she was
the lady who had sung in the church the night
before! Then Uncle Flatiron was heard growl-
ing because nobody would talk so he could
The young man went over and talked with
him, roaring so loud that the rest of them could
hardly hear themselves think ; but Uncle Flat-
iron became almost good-natured.
Pretty soon the Man with the Big Overcoat
.._.-,...,.,l that they should have some music,
and asked his sister to sing for them. Then
how gladly en-IIladad's heart beat! ie hoped
she would sing what she had the night before.
As she arose, he listened eagerly for the first
They were these: -

0 little town of Bethlehem,
Ilow still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by."

How glad lie was that he had the beautiful
singer to sing at his party I
Then the Man with the Big Overcoat asked
Sa'Yan'what she could sing ; she said "Glory,
Hallelujah! lie said that was about all lhe
could sing, and started it. How the old words
rang through the air! For the young man sang
as loud as he could, and his sister sang, and
Father and Mother Hadad sang, and Sa'Yan
thought she was back in her mother's negro
cabin, and rocked back and forth in the chair
by the fire, her turban and eyes gleaming in
the weird light. In fact they all sang except
Uncle Flatiron, and he growled quite a pleas-

ant growl; so much pleasanter than any he
had growled for a long time that the angels
who were listening, I think, counted him as
singing, too.
Then the Man with the Big Overcoat said he
had a big sleigh around the corner, and would
respectfully invite the party to take a Christ-
mas sleigh-ride. Everybody said Yes. When
they had wrapped themselves up the sleigh was
at the door, and they all piled in, and were tucked
in by fur robes. The Man with the Big Over-
coat sat on the front seat with his sister, and
next came Mother Iladad and Sa'Yan, and be-
hind, Father IIadad and Uncle Flatiron, with
Ben-Iladad between them.
It was a beautiful night. The stars had all
come out bravely now, although they were
quite outshone by the full moon. And the
snow was so crisp and hard, and the sleigh
went so smooth and fast behind the big horses,
and the bells jingled so merrily! And I record
it now, for the interest of future generations,
that during the entire ride, Uncle Flatiron gave
not one single growl!
Back again at the IIadads' home, the Man
with the Big Overcoat took Ben-Hadad aside
and showed him a warm shawl, and an overcoat
almost as big as his, that he wanted him to
present, one to Sa'Yan, the other to Uncle
Flatiron, in the name of The Party. Then he
and his sister started to leave, but Father
Hadad motioned them back, and rose.
"It is growing late," he said (this was a mild
way of putting it! Didn't he know it had
been growing late all the time?), "and the
party must break up. We hope you have had
a pleasant time; we thank those who have
tried to make it more pleasant, and have so
well succeeded. We trust you have all had a
very merry Christmas, and wish you a very
happy New Year."
That was a long speech for Father Hadad to
make. If Ben-Hadad had not insisted upon it,
I do not think he would have made it. Tht
young host sat over by his mother, still smiling
on every one.
Mother," he whispered, "hasn't it been
nice? Don't you think it has been a real good-
will-toward-men party?"
Listen," said his mother, for answer. For


the Man with the Big Overcoat was standing
up to speak.
"I want to thank you all," said he, "for the
way in which my sister and I have been re-
ceived at the party, and to say a word about
how nearly I think it has succeeded in being a
true Christmas one. For the real spirit of
Christmas is that of the angels' song, Glory to
God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will
toward men.' If I am not mistaken that has been
what your hosts have been trying to make this.
Whoever shows love for the poorest of men
gives glry to God, for His Son has said, In-
asmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of
these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.'
Whatever makes them less unhappy is more of
His peace on earth; whoever does them a kind-
ness is working out that for which the Star
shone, the angels sang, the Christ-child came

- good-will toward men. So let us go out to-
night with the idea that we will make the com-
ing New Year a Christmas one, in that we shall
live in the spirit of this wonderful day.
And now in bidding you good-by, let me
repeat what my sister has sung to you:-

"No ear may hear His coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive Him still,
The dear Christ enters in.
Where children pure and happy
Pray to the blessed Child,
Where misery cries out to thee
Son of the Mother mild,
Where Charity stands watching,
And Faithjiolds wide the door,
The dark night wakes, the glory breaks,
And Christmas comes once more."

.., .

M4*'* .. ,

S- .
-~1 -I


a- V';
p11 9-





M'( r PASSION ON '0'\tITE.
El I'NT.

0! said Ralph,, pausing over ai verse
that was heavily marked with blue ink,
" tlis is a little bit of a fellow, and it doesn't
seem to say anything. Grandma marked it,
though, as if she thought it was made of gold."
Vhat is the verse?" Mrs. Selmscr asked,
with a somewhat unsteady voice; there came
to her just then a memory of her dear old
mother bending over the golden verses, getting
wealth from them ; and it made her heart ache
so for a sight of the mother's face, that it
seemed for a few minutes as though she could
not wait any longer.
SIt is 'Be-not-afraid-only-believe," said Ralph,
running the words together as though they were
one, a:nd making only a comma at the close.
Why, that is a lovely verse, I am sure."
SWell, it doesn't say anything; doesn't finish,
you know. What is a fellow to believe ?"
"A boy who belongs to the Lord can use the
verse in a great many ways. I heard a minis-
ter say once it was a blank cheek, ready to use
for any sum that was needed. Believe that God
will take care of you anywhere, no matter what
happens. Don't you see ?"
"Y-e-s'-m," Ralph said, with a slow drawl,
but then I don't understand such wholesale
verses very well; it's short, though, and I'm
going to take it for mine."
All day long he didn't give the verse a
thoiiutJ. lie was Iusy in school, and at home,
and was bright and happy; whistling most of
the .inme when alone, and forgetting that there
was such a thing as trouble in the world, or that
he had occasion for anybody's help. However,
he succeeded in offending three boys younger
than himself who were generally in mischief of
some sort. They planned a bit of mischief for
this particular day, which Ralph discovered in
time, and spoiled. They were very angry

about it, and promised to be even with him."
Ralph laughed, and whistled, and wondered
what the claps thought they could do.
By dark he found out.
It was Ralph's duty to close the windows of
the schoolrooms, after they had been swept and
dusted, see that all was in order for the night,
and close the heavy doors that locked with
spring locks. IIe was whistling through the
hall, attending to his work, just as twilight was
falling; the sweeper had been delayed, and it
was later than usual. Three empty coal hods
stood by the door of the coal cellar. Ralph
swung them all over his arm, it being his duty
to leave them in the cellar. First he took the
precaution to fasten back the heavy outside
door lest a gust of wind might blow it shut. It
fastened with a chain and hasp, so no wind
could possibly loosen it; then he went swiftly
down the steep stairs, whistling, See the con-
quering hero comes."
"No, he doesn't!" murmured a low voice
outside. He goes, but he doesn't 'come so
quickly as he thinks. Now, Jim, is your time;
swing to the door; there's nobody in sight."
And Jim pushed, keeping Iob back with one
hand, lest he should rattle the chain and give
Ralph warning in time to escape.
The door closed with a dull thud that stopped
the whistling below. Ralph was just ready to
spring up the steps into daylight again. The
minute he heard that thud, he knew that he
was a prisoner; though how the door had got-
ten loose he could not imagine. It wasn't a
pleasant prospect for a boy, this being shut
into a great dark cellar, with stone walls and
rats for company; feeling pretty certain that
the long night would have to wear away, and
perhaps a great part of the next day before he
would be discovered.
In fact it might be several days ; for he re-
membered with sudden terror that it was Fri-
day night, and the cellar need not be entered
again, probably would not be until Monday.
What should he do ? Which way turn ?
Would it be possible for him to live in that
damp, dark spot until lie was found ? Could he
hope to make noise enough to attract the atten-
tion of any pas the building' stood back from the rond, in ihe


centre of large grounds, and the cellar was at
the back part of the building.
It was then and there, sitting on the lowest
step of the cellar stairs, with his elbows on his
knees, and his head in his hands, that Ralph
thought again of the marked verse: Be not
afraid, only believe He was afraid; he
owned it to himself. Vere the words for him?
If he only knew wha to believe! He wished
he had talked longer with his mother about it.
He did believe in the great God, and wanted
to be his servant. But was lie expected to
believe that God would plan some way to get
him out of that cellar that night? "How
could He !" said poor Ralph to himself. "No-
body comes to the buildings nights, let alone
the cellars. I've just got to stay here, of course;
but, 0 dear, it is dreadful! what will mother
think ? They will all be scared ; and they won't
know where to look for me, because I ran home,
between times, while I was waiting for the dust-
ing, and I didn't tell them I'd got to go back
to the schoolhouse. They will think I'm in the
river, and they'll go to dragging it and have
an awful time; and here I am in this dreadful
cellar! 0, dear! I wish I knew what to believe."
His mother's voice seemed to sound in his
ears: "Believe that God will take care of you
anywhere, no matter what happens." Those
were the very words she said. Did 'he believe
it? If lie did, why was he afraid? A few
minutes passed, which seemed like hours to
Ralph, then he got down on the coal grimed
floor and prayed this prayer : -
"Dear Lord, I'm in awful trouble; I never
was before, but this is awful! I can't help
being some afraid. But I believe in Thy power
to keep me safe, even here. 0, Lord! take
care of me, and comfort mother, for Jesus'
sake. Amen !"
You will notice that his faith was not strong
enough to pray to be let out of the cellar. He
believed that to be such an exceedingly improb-
able thing as to be almost impossible.
Yet, as the long slow minutes dragged along,
he heard a sound, and started up and listened
as for his life. Was it rats? No, it came from
overhead. Was it burglars? Then would
they come to the cellar, and finding him, kill
him? The cold sweat stood in great drops on

the poor boy's face. The heavy door was cer-
tainly being tampered with; he heard the
grating of a key in the lock; he heard it slowly
swing back on its hinges; he saw the glimmer
of a lantern. Should he try to hide? No, he
wouldn't; instead, he almost laughed aloud in
his sudden relief. The tall form of Professor
Fordham was coining down the stairs.
"It's only me, Professor," he shouted, as the
startled gentleman paused half-way down ; "it's
only me, Ralph Selmser. I got shut in; but
how came you to come and let me out?"
What does all this mean ?" said the Pro-
fessor, setting down his lantern. Then there
were explanations to make. When Ralph had
told as much as he knew of his own story,
Professor Fordham said he had been called to
the coal cellar to look at a flue that the janitor
thought needed attention ; that he had stooped
down on his hands and knees to examine it, and
that when he reached home he missed a pocket-
book that was filled with important papers;
not finding it anywhere else, he had thought of
the coal cellar, and came at once to look for it.
And Ralph, as he hunted about by the light
of the lantern, and finally picked up the lost
book, said in an awe-stricken tone: "How easy
He did it! And I thought IIe couldn't!"
"Did what, my boy?" asked the Professor.
Then Ralph's pale face flushed a little, as he
said, I was just thinking out loud, Professor.
You see I thought the Lord would take care of
me here, all night, but I didn't believe he could
plan any way to let me out, before morning,
anyhow, and he did it just as easy! Mother
will think that it all came about through Grand-
mother's verses; and maybe it did. I'm afraid
mother is awfully scared. What time is it,
Professor Fordham ?"
"A little after six ;" said the Professor, and
Ralph in great astonishment owned that he
thought it was about midnight.
Then they walked home; but I believe you
will be glad to hear that Professor Fordhami
said, when he left Ralph, "We must look into
this matter. Doors that are chained back don't
close without hands. I saw three boys skulking
about where they ought not to be, and have
my suspicions; to-morrow we will see what we
can discover."


el -7
3 i=-i~-
~' V:






_fARY ELLIS was taking out her bread
,i". i from the oven. The rosy cheeks
bending over the steaming loaf were
Snot marks of the morning's busy work
alone; there was the flush of expec-
tancy, and a gentle excitement shone in the
brown eves. Any one who had not been told,
could easily have guessed that Miss Ellis had
some anticipated delight in store.
"!I .', tLhat' done," she cried, hurrying
over to tIh table with her burden of sweet
loaves, "tlank fortune. Everything favors me,
-and I do verily believe that I shall get started
to Eiiza's by: one o'clock."
Thereupon tle lily kitchen resounded to a
merry din as M.ri:i hurried from one task to
another, her mninid pleasantly intent on the
-outing before her, her fingers mechanically per-
forming their duty.
"it's two iwhlle years since I've been to
Eliza Smith's," she ran on to herself, and if I
don't go this week, why, it will be another
twelvemonth, like enough, before I start. Lucky
that exe\yboily is well, and that father and the
boys will let me oil; and I don't believe it will
storm, so I am 'really and truly,' as the chil-
dren siay, going to h:ve a good time."
"Eliza Smith's," over in Grafton, the other
side of the hill, a good ten-mile drive, was the
Eden to which Miss Ellis' eyes always turned
whenever she was so presumptuous as to think
of a vacation. It was the home of an old
schoolmate, i ho from pinafore days, had grown
up to that girlish intimacy with Mary that en-
titlle her to be the sharer of all those delicious
secret; fondly supposed to belong to young
ladies alone, and since the two ladies were
now arrived at tihe age of thirty years, with
no dli:ilntion of their friendship, it was fair
to suppose tha t it was worth keeping, and really
merited an occasional interchange of visits.
For the past two years, as Mary had re-
marked to herself, she had been disappointed
for one reason and another, and kept from the

longed-for visit she intended to pay at least
once a year. But now after many attempts it
was at last within her grasp, and she could set
out with a clear conscience, as everything in
the way of provisions was baked up for the
three days she intended to stay away from
With one eye on the clock, Mary bustled
away, reflecting that everything was so far
along in the work that she could soon press out
the cambric ruffles in the neck and sleeves of
her brown merino dress. She had slipped an
iron on to the stove for that purpose, and in a
few moments she was preparing to run up-stairs
to get the gown. IHer hand was on the latch,
when she heard a step in the little entry, then
some one stepped into the kitchen.
"Why, Rob Ferris! she cried, "how you
scared me."
"I knocked," said Rob, "but you didn't
hear me, so I came in."
lie was trembling from suppressed excite-
ment. Hlis eyes shone like siars, and his hands
twitched in his eff;,rts to control them.
"What's the matter?" demanded Miss Ellis,
her hand falling from the latch, as she surveyed
him exhaustively. "Goodness, Rob, there
hasn't anything happened to Miss Philena!"
"No," said the boy. Read that; rhe sent
it," and he thrust a folded paper iito Miss
Ellis's outstretched palm.
Mary took it wonderingly, and read the
words written in Miss Philena's cramped hand-
writing at least dhree times. Strange to
say it was not till after she looked up that it
flashed upon her what the request contained in
the note meant to her.
"I can't do it!" Then she cried passion-
ately, "It's out of the question." Then she bit
her lips and coughed as she looked at the boy.
"Well, Rob, you sit down," she said at last,
kindly; "I'll be back in a minute," and skipping
over the flat stone that served as a door-step
like a girl, she ran into the barn.
"John- John !" she called at the foot of
the crooked stairs leading up to the loft,
"come down here do !"'
"What's up?" demanded John, peering
down at her, and pausing in his occupation of
filling a bag with oats.


"Do come down," cried Mary impatiently,
and in her excitement crumpling up a letter
she held in her hand "John, it is the most
dreadful thing!"
John dropped the bag and set down the oat-
taeasure to get over the stairs quickly. Mary
threw herself on the work-bench and silently
put the letter into his hand.
"Whew!" he whistled as he accomplished
the last word. Well, what are you going to
do about it, Mary?"
Stay at home, of course," said Mary discon-
solately. "The boy must be gotten over to
Freeburg. I've got to give up going to Eliza's."
"You can't," declared John symi l.: ... .11.
"I must," said Mary, clasping her hands
tightly together to keep a rush of disappointed
words from utterance, and swinging one foot
irritably. You'll have to take the horse and
carriage and carry him to F i.'l.1'.r, instead of
driving me to Grafton. There's no other way.
Now don't let us talk any more about it."
John obediently shut his lips fast and waited
for her plan which he knew would be forthcom-
ing presently, and lie was not disappointed.
Mary, accustomed to arrange matters of import-
ance for the household, now rapidly lent herself
to the re-adjustment of the journey her brother
was to take, and then she launched into a dis-
cussion of the trouble at the "~I...:;,' that had
caused all this change of plans.
"To think of binding out that boy to Job
Barker !" she began in a hushed voice. Joel
Slocum must be going down hill pretty fast to
come to that."
"The old scoundrel!" cried John between
his teeth. Mary, there isn't much loud talk
about it, 'cause lBnarker is a man of means, and
awfully sniartin his farming ; but it's whispered
around that .Jim Bentley- the boy le brought
home from New York State--has been beaten
terribly. The neighbors complained ; they get
nervous, folks say, hearing the noise, and know-
ing there's brutality at work."
Mary's cheek flushed with womanly indigna-
tion. "The brut oh to think of Joel
Slocum being determined to let him get Rob."
"I don't really suppose Slocum knew any-
thing of the talk about Barker," said John.
Well, he ought to," retorted Mary, with

spirit, "before he bound out a poor defenseless
boy into his clutches, and that boy his nephew."
"Well, Mary," said her brother slowly, "if
I were you, I'd set to work to get him," point-
ing with his thumb to the house, "over to Free-
burg; then you can sit and talk comfortable."
You're right, John," cried Mary, springing
)3 her feet arid swallowing a sigh at the thought
of Eliza Smith's expectations changed to woe.
"You get ready, and I'll put your lunch up,"
and she sped into the house.
Rob was pacing the kitchen floor, restless
with excitement. He stopped as she came in,
and looked at her, all his heart in his eyes.
"Rob," said Mary, going up to him and taking
his hand, your Aunt Philena says we are to get
you over to Freeburg, see you on board the
cars, under the care of the conductor, and that
he will put you off at Parkersville, where her
cousin Hetty Slocum lives; she married a
Russell -William Russell and your aunt feels
that they will do the right thing by you. She
says that she's given you the address on a bit
of paper she put in your bag of money."
Rob's hand involuntarily sought his bag of
treasures, and his eyes shone. It was impossible
for him not to show that he felt the uplifting
of its presence.
"Better not think too much of it, Rob," ad-
vised Miss Ellis cautiously, "you'll show it if
you do. Well, nowv, that's all I can do for you;
get you off as soon as I can. But you must eat
a bit first." She ran into the buttery and pres-
ently returned with a generous supply of cold
meat and a good wedge of custard pie. And
making Rob sit down, she put them before him
and then ran out to hurry John once more.
When she came back, the plate was empty,
and Rob had the appearance of one who could
easily have disposed of twice the amount.
"I know what it is to see boys eat," she de-
dared, laughingly, "Rob, I'm only too glad to
have you enjoy it," and she seized his plate and
was soon refilling it.
1" Take plenty of time," she said, coming back;
"John's got to have his lunch yet."
But the next moment John came into the
kitchen: "I shall eat my snack on the way,
Mary. Put up a good one, and plenty of
cheese. We ought to be off this minute."





SALPIH rocked back and forth in the little
wooden rocker in front of the fireplace,
and turned the leaves of the big Bible in search
of his verse for the next day.
Here is one that I like," he said at last,
"because it is marked with red ink. I like red
ink best, and I'd just as soon choose it; that is,
it would be an easy enough one, only it isn't
likely I could use it; it doesn't fit me."
How can you tell what verse will fit you
to-morrow ?" asked his mother. "Read it to
So Ralph read: "Whosoever will come after
me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross
and follow me."
"And you think that doesn't fit you? Why
not? You don't mean, I hope, that you don't
belong to those who want to follow Him?"
"O, no!" said Ralph promptly; "I don't
mean that, of coure. But, you see, I haven't
got anything to deny myself. I go to school
now, and I like to go; and my lessons are nice,
and I like to study them ; and I don't have any-
thing to do that I wouldn't just as lives do as
not. A few months ago it might have fitted
me; I had to keep denying myself lots of
things I wanted to do, but now it's different."
Mrs. Selmser smiled a peculiar smile, and
sewed away for some minutes before she spoke
If I were you I would take it, Ralph. I
never heard of anybody who really wanted to
live by it that didn't have chances enough.
You can't tell, you see, what to-morrow may
Ralph laughed lightly. "I ain't afraid," he
said. "To-morrow's Saturday, and I'm going
to give Ned a ride on my sled, and I'm going to
get green things and berries for Mary Jane to

trim up the room for father's birthday; and
there isn't a thing to do all day but I'd rather
do than not. But then, I'll take it and see."
"Fire! fire! fire!" It was thatsound repeated
by shrill voices that awoke Ralph several hours
"To-morrow" had already begun; it was
almost two o'clock. Out tumbled Ralph in
eager haste, and was ready, by the time his
father was, to start in search of the fire. It
was a stormy night; a wild March wind was
blowing, and the air was full of fast whirling
snow. Great crowds had gathered at the scene
of the fire, and a wild and beautiful scene it
was. Ralph stood and watched the flames,
filled with a feeling that, to say the least, was
not regret, when he discovered that the house
which was evidently going to burn to the ground,
was the home where his tormentors lived! The
very boys who had shut him into the school
cellar, and were always doing something to
annoy him.
It isn't any fault of mine," he said sturdily,
ashamed that there was a little feeling of glad-
ness in his heart, and yet trying to apologize
for it. "I wouldn't have set their house on fire
for anything in this world; and I'd put it out,
quicker, if I could. But since it's got to burn,
I'm glad it belongs to such mean chaps as they,
instead of to the fellows I like."
"Get out! said a man just at Ralph's elbow.
He had been working with a will, and had just
stopped for breath. He explained the meaning
of his words to a man who was with him.
"It's that little cat; she's been under my feet
most of the time. Look at her! she's scared to
death, and the smoke makes her blind. She'll
get killed here if nobody looks after her. Look
at those sparks! They are going to catch on
the side roof now !" and the men were off.
Ralph stood still and looked, not at the flames,
but at the "little cat." The special pet of those
two boys! Once he told his mother that he
believed those fellows liked their ridiculous
kitten better than they did their little baby
sister." Now she was dashing about in a wild
way, right under the feet of the flying firemen.,
and was certainly in a fair way to be killed.
"Serve 'em right, too," declared Ralph.
"Think how they treated my Towser only the


other night; humph! think how they treated
me." Again there came into his heart that
glad feeling. He wouldn't have hurt the "little
cat" for anything; but he knew he was glad
she was likely to be hurt. Suddenly there
came to him a thought so surprising that he
whistled, even there, with the flames rising
higher every minute. Wasn't it his duty to
" deny himself that glad feeling, and take
up his cross and that little cat and carry her
home out of harm's way?
"Pshaw !" he said aloud. Likely story
that a Bible verse would have anything to do
with a cat! What kind of denying would that
be, anyhow? As if I wanted their old kitten
to be killed, if she can keep herself from it."
No use, Ralph. Bible verses apply to smaller
creatures than cats; and you know as well as
you need to know, that a follower of Him
whose words you are quoting, would be merciful
to the smallest and weakest of his creatures.
Suddenly Ralph gave a dart into the midst
of the smoke, being pushed aside and scolded
by an impatient fireman, and being promptly
ordered home by his own father, who had
dashed into the worst of it, and was helping
fight the fire. Ralph went home, very sorry to
miss the rest of the fire; but the "little cat"
trembling as though she had a chill, was tucked
close to his breast, wrapped under his stout
overcoat. He had denied himself the feeling
of satisfaction over the thought that something
belonging to those scamps of boys had come to
Perhaps you think the boys were very grate-
ful the next day when they found their pet had
been saved. This was the way they told the
And don't you think, with all the rest, we
came pret y near losing Spot. That Ralph
Sehnser caine prowling around and walked off
with her under his coat, as large as you please!
No telling what he would have done with her,
only one of the men saw him and told father,
and he went himself and brought her home.
As if it wasn't enough to have our house burn
down, but we must have things stolen Ralph
pretends that he took her to save her, because
she was dashing right into the fire, and he heard
a man say she would be killed; but that is stuff

and nonsense ; as if a cat didn't know how to
take care of herself."
So that was their gratitude !
But when Ralph heard of it, he laughed, and
said to his mother: "I'll have to hold on to the
verse, mother. I'm going to deny myself the
pleasure of knocking both those fellows over,
and it feels kind of pleasant to hold myself in;
I rather like it. But you see if I had let that
little cat kill herself, I should have felt just
awful. It's queer that Bible verses belong even
to cats! "

XTOU may get through the world, but 'twill
be very slow,
If you listen to all that is said as you go;
You'll be worried and fretted and kept in a
stew -
For meddlesome tongues must have something
to do,
And people will talk.
If quiet and modest, you'll have it presumed
That your humble position is only assumed -
You're a wolf in sheep's clothing or else you're
a fool;
But don't get excited -keep perfectly cool-
For people will talk.

And then if you show the least boldness of heart,
Or a slight inclination to take your own part,
They will call you an upstart,.conceited and vain;
But keep straight ahead-don't stop to explain-
For people will talk.
If threadbare your dress or old-fashioned your
Some one will surely take notice of that,
And hint very strongly that you can't pay your
But don't get excited whatever they say-
For people will talk.

If your dressis the fashion, don't think to escape,
For they criticise then in a different shape;
You're ahead of your means, or your tailor's
But mind your own business, there's naught to
be made,
For people will talk.
Now, the best way to do is to do as you please,
For your mind, if you have one, will then be at
Of course you will meet all sorts of abuse;

But don't think to stop them it ain't any use-
For people will talk. Selected.



SIANTS in those days-giants in these-
Giants of wrong and giants of right,
Giants who stand and giants who fight,
Giants in action, giants at ease."

So the preacher spoke, and the people heard
With faces lifted, and straining ear,
Eager to listen, eager to hear -
Not losing an eloquent word.

"There are giant sins in these days of ours,
And giants who meet to strike them down,
Winning stars for the heavenly crown:
Giant lives that bloom like the flowers.

"There are giant powers that build up homes
Where the victims of other giants rest,
Helping always up towards his bust
The sinner who meekly and humbly comes;

" There are giant souls who far away
The cross are lifting, a light to be,
For brothers in darkness over the sea,
Whose light is shining on us to-day.

" There are giants making the earth more bright,
More like the Eden once lost to man;
Helping their God in His every plan
To bring to the world more life and light.

" But all giants of good have need to fight,
And need of the help of God alone;
If one terrible giant be overthrown,
They must gird on the armor and keep it bright

" It is not hopeless; we all may grow
Into great giants to fight and win;
Though little we may do against the sin,
All may do something, that we know

"For greater is He who is on our side,
Than the terrible giant so vile and strong-
The giant troubling the world so long:
Heaven's hosts are with our weak hosts allied.

" Chariots and horsemen are 'round about,
Though we see no shadow against the sky;

God will help us, He cannot lie.
Though the giant was strong and stout,

"Rolling his terrible floods of sin
Over the land for years and years,
Making the world a vale of tears,
God is with us, and we shall win."

The preacher paused, and I thought that he
Looked like a giant himself that day,
Though his face was old, and his hair was
And I guessed what that giant could be.

I knew the giant of sin and shame -
The giant flooding the earth with woe -
And I vowed that to fight him I'd always go;
For Rum was the terrible giant's name.
E. B. S.

R. E. R. MONFORT, one of the editors
of the Herald and Presbyter, who is
traveling in Scotland, has been visiting Melrose
Abbey, and tells some interesting things about
the old graveyard. Here are the words he
found on one old red tombstone:


Those lines will bear studying. I wonder
how many of my readers can tell what they
mean ?
Here is another inscription found on a st.o,
in Greyfriars Churchyard, which for tenihl:riw-
and auaintness, and the power of siyiii: :
great deal in a few words, it seems to me woui1i
be hard to excel.
There is first the name and date, which iasL
by the way, is in the year 1518, and then:




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_C I

I. P.

I. P.

OWN EAST where is that ?
'. Many years ago there lived a man
whose name began with I. P.
He was a farmer, and there he is now,
plowing. The one who made the picture never
saw I. P., or he would never have made just
such a picture of him; for neither himself nor
his team nor his plow locked like that.
Don't call him a funny old chap who doesn't
amount to much till you know something about
He was an industrious man, and that cannot
be said of everybody. He worked hard every
day, rain or shine, following his plow or some-
thing else on his little farm.
SHe was an honest man, always paying one
hundred cents on the dollar.
He was a brave man. There were savage
Indians in his days
and sometimes it
was necessary to
meet them in bat- -
tie. He was not
afraid of Indians. -
Once he was
captured by them '-"- -- -"
and bound to a 7--:--:---
tree. Theybegan 1 -----
to throw their
sharp tomahawks
at his head to see -
how near to it --
they could come- --.
without hitting --
and enjoy his ter- ____-_
ror as the fierce
blade came whiz-
zing through the air. But somehow he es-
caped. Almost as bad as the Indians were the
wild beasts of those days.
I. P. did not. fear them, however. Once he
and his neighbors chased a bear into a cave;
but after him went this fearless farmer, gun in
Far within he saw two eyes glaring at him.
Aiming as nearly between them as he could,
bang went the old musket, and the next minute
out came I. P. drawn by a rope, one end of

which was fastened about his waist, while his
neighbors pulled with might and main at the
Their joy knew no bounds when they saw the
dead bear follow I. P., who had him firmly by
the ears.
He was a loyal man. His country was in
danger. A young man, whose name begun with
P. R., heard that the British were going over to
Concord to destroy the stores there. Mounting
a fleet horse, he rode at the top of his speed,
calling out at every house on the way "The
British are coming! the British are coming!
Get ready for them."
On and on he galloped till the startling news
spread through all the region.
Word reached brave, loyal old I. P. as he was
"What do you say ?" he shouted back to his
hired man who was plowing on the other side


of the field and who had called out, asiing I. P.
if he had heard the news of the battle of Lex-
No sooner did he catch the words British"
and "Lexington" than the horses were un-
hitched, and almost as fast as P. R. rode I. P.
toward Lexington and offered himself to his
country in her hour of peril.
Then came the bloody battle of Breed's Hill.
I. P. was there in the thickest of the fight, di-
recting and encouraging the soldiers. He was

I. P.

.one of the generals. Now do you know him?
But what if I should tell you that he taught
that little fellow over there by the head of the
horses to plow, so that he became a splendid
farmer and after the war was over and "Amer-
ica had gained the day went" West which
in those days was New York State and bought
,one hundred and sixty acres of land and in a
few years his new farm was worth ten times
more than he paid for it; and he had a large
family of boys, most of whom became good
farmers, and now in our day one of those boys'
boys owns a farm "out West" where is that ?
- of fifty-eight thousand acres!
He plans to plow ten thousand acres each

summer. All his horses are-mules. Three
mules to each plow, and twenty miles a day for
each plow. Not a whip on the farm; no cruelty
to an animal.
Happy mules; happy cattle! Don't they
look like it in this picture At the Dairy Farm "?
Who knows but grand old I. P. when he
knelt at the family altar and opened his heart to
God a hundred or more years ago, or when he
followed his honest plow and thought and won-
dered what would some day come to his dear
country- who knows, I say, but he had some
glimpse of our times and the wonderful West
with.its wonderful farms, churches and school-
houses! C. M. L.

~rssm~ lBB%.~ 1l~-Fl
A -*




NCE there was a man. He had
S coarse, long black hair and high cheek
Bones; and his skin was the color of
copper. He and his family lived in
the woods and ate wild game. To get the
game he had a gun. It was made of a string
and two sticks.
He could shoot many yards with it. Many a
rabbit, turkey and deer he brought home for
dinner by the aid of his bow and arrow. His
gun was his capital. (Know what that means ?)
Well, the years went by, and there came
another man into that neighborhood. His face
was white, his hair auburn and waving. For a
time these men lived in peace. But the white
man loved to shoot the wild game, too. He
had a gun made of iron, and le could shoot
farther than the other man, and kill more wild
animals. Can you guess how trouble came?
It came. They began to shoot at each other.
"Hum" would go the arrow through the air
from the Indian's bow and just graze the white
man's ear; then at last "flash" and "bang"
from the iron gun and whiz goes the bullet
right into the Indian's head. Poor Indian falls
like the rabbits he once hit, and his wife is now
a widow. What will she and the children do
for bread and meat?
After this came another white man. His
gun was better still. Strange to say, these two
white men made war with each other. "Flash"
went the powder, and away flew the bullets
and down went the first man, dead. Their
children have ever since been trying to make
bigger and better guns, almost entirely to see
which can hurt the other most, I'm sorry to tell.
A while ago some of those grown-up chil-
dren went down to a place called Sandy Hook,
not far from New York, to see a big gun.
It is the largest ever made in the United
States. The Indian's bow and arrow would be
small and light as a feather by the side of this
awful thing. It is all cast-iron, thirty feet
long; its mouth or bore is twelve inches in
diameter; its weight fifty-four tons; its cost
twenty-nine thousand dollars; it throws an
eight hundred pound ball so far and fiercely as
to knock a hole in an iron armament (what's

that?) a half-mile away. It costs over one
hundred dollars every time it is fired. It took
a year to make it. May it never be aimed at
your rabbit or your head or the great ship on
which you may be riding to London or the city
in which you live.
There's a greater gun than the Indian's or
those two white men's or this last monster.
It is made not of two sticks and a string
or iron -but of flesh and blood and something
else. Its mouth is the same size as yours. It
can shoot a thousand miles as easily as one, and
hit a thousand marks at the same moment as
easily as one. Its arrows are words, words!
The smallest of these word bullets can make
the world bleed, or heal the world's wounds.
You are the gun, and you take aim and fire
as many as a thousand times daily, and hearts
bleed or eyes dance with delight every time of
the "Flash, whiz, bang! "
Look out, my lad and girl, with what you
load and how and why you aim and fire.


BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, in his autobiog-
raphy, lays down a canon of good breed.
ing in conversation which is worth keeping in
mind. He says that he formed the habit of
expressing himself "in terms of modest diffi.
dence," never using the words "certainly, un.
doubtedly, or any others that give an air of
positiveness to an opinion," on subjects that
may possibly be disputed; saying, rather, "It
appears to me, or, I should think it so, or so, if
I am not mistaken." This habit, he said, was
of great advantage to him in persuading people
to adopt his views, and also helped him to
gather much valuable knowledge which other-
wise would have been withheld. For, as a
rule, people do not care to impart information
to one who is firmly intrenched in his own
opinions. Young people are very apt to have
a positive, dogmatic way of expressing them-
selves, and should be trained to a moderate, as
well as graceful, use of language. The use of
slang has a tendency toward the error which
Franklin tried to avoid. Selected.


i i.,




A 40


Inl~lP:l --~~--II1"LI---------_113---- I_







-'OI-IN ELLIS motioned to Rob with a
:1 hasty hand. Come on, boy; we have
Sno time to lose."
Rob got out of his chair and walked
up to Mary Ann.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Mary Ann for answer, touched his ruddy
cheek with her lips. Now, Rob, you remem-
ber all I have told you."
"I won't forget a single word," declared
Rob, and slapping his breast where the little
bag of money was concealed. Already he felt
the man of ii 11. going out into the world, to
hold his own against the strongest.
"Take care, Rob," warned Mary Ann;
" don't touch your coat where that bag is; you
mustn't even look as though you thought of
I'll take care," said Rob, feeling quite big
and old.
"Because if you don't," said Miss Ellis,
"you'll find out soon to your sorrow that you
haven't any money. So be sure now."
This last was said as Rob hoisted himself up
to the seat beside John Ellis, who at once
gathered up the cotton reins, and slapping the
old horse's back with the doubled-up ends, cried
out, "G'lang there, Dandy; we must move
sharp to get this boy safe over to Freeburg."
Mary Ann shaded her eyes with her hand as
she stood on the flat door stone and watched
them turn the corner. Then she turned and
went quickly into the house, putting up the
corner of her white apron surreptitiously to her
face, as she stepped into the empty kitchen.
"No use to cry for spilt milk, or a spoilt
visit," she observed wisely, but I'm not so old
that I don't feel it when I get a hurt as I have
to-day. But la! what am I talking of when
that poor boy is the only one to be thought of.
Goodness! it's worth my disappointment to
cicat old Barker out of his prey."
So i 1.. ,. Miss Ellis speedily put herself
to rii s in her minid, and lacking her sewing she

settled down to the afternoon work, as if she
had never thought of such a thing as visiting
her dearest friend, Eliza Smith.
Meanwhile Rob and his deliverer were mak-
ing good time over toward the hill that sepa-
rated the two friends. Several times John
Ellis essayed to impart good advice to the lad
so strangely thrust upon his charity. But the.
words always remained unsaid. "They stick
in my throat," said John to himself as he
silently drove on, and good reason why. I
never could abide being lectured to when I was
a shaver like him. He'll have to rough it like
the rest of us, and turn out all the better man
for it. Good gracious, here's mischief! Get
under the bags, Rob, as quick as you can! "
Rob threw himself over the sent, and was in
a trice under the bags of potatoes with which
the floor of the wagon was strewn. But none-
too soon. A man's voice was presently heard
addressing Mr. Ellis, and although nearly
smothered in his close quarters, and with a
mind given over to his own matters, Rob had
no difficulty in recognizing the sharp, high-keyed
voice of Jed Barker, and lie shivered with
anger and an instinctive dread that all might
even now be lost.
"Good-afternoon, John," said Mr. Barker,
pulling up his sorry beast to a dead stop;
" well, seems to me you've took a queer time to
get your potatoes on the road. Goin' over to
Freeburg ?"
Ohl! I'm going to fetch the potatoes to
Simmons on the West Road," said John Ellis
carelessly, which was quite true, but that
errand was to be performed- on the way to Free-
burg. "Looks like a storm, doesn't it?"
squinting at the sky.
"I d'no. 'Pears like it will blow over.i
Them clouds don't mean anything, I take it,"
said Mr. Barker with a short laugh. "Well, I
don't know as I care whether it rains or shines.
I hain't any business that spiles. The next
thing I do is to change boys"--
Eh ?" said John Ellis coolly.
"Yes; fact is," said Mr. Barker growing
confidential, Slocum and I have come to an
agreement to exchange boys. He don't like his
bargain, and I don't like mine. So we agreed
to swap. IHee, lee, lhee!"


"I don't understand," said John, changing
the reins from one hand to the other nerv-
"Ye see, the case is about here. Stop
shaking your head, you beast you, or I'll fix
you when I get you home," giving a vicious
pull to the reins. "I'll learn you! The critter
has got a new curbed bit on, and it ain't what
he likes but he'll catch something that don't
suit him as well if he don't look out. Well, I
was saying, why, you know Slocum's nephew,
that tall, high-strung chap that Mary Slocum
left on his h.nds."
"Mary Slocum had an equal division in the
estate, I've always heard," said John quietly.
"Well, s'posin' she did, that's no reason her
boy should get anything out of Joel, if it can
be saved," retorted Barker with an unpleasant
"Whatever Joel Slocum's faults are, and we
all have ours, cheating isn't one of them," ex-
claimed John Ellis hotly.
"Who said it was?" cried Barker coarsely,
and ejecting the tobacco juice with which his
mouth was usually well-filled, to right and left,
well, leaving' out motives as to why he wants
to get rid of the boy, the fact still remains that
he is determined to do it, all the same. I've
got the boy!" He roared out the last words,
bringing down his grey woollen glove heavily
on his lnee. Rob, huddling under the potato
bags, shivered worse than ever, and held his
breath in a 1 error that nearly made him scream.
The next words were :
"Yes, I've got him sure. Joel has at last
signed the agreement, and my fingers are as good
as on the boy. I'm going for him this afternoon;
then look out. I'll take down his airs ; ye won't
any of you know him in a month. Well, I
must be goin'. Hope ye'll get your potatoes to
Simmons all right. G'lang!" With a cruel
cut to the horse's back, he sprung off at a smart
pace down the road.
John Ellis waited until he heard no sound of
tlhe retreating wagon wheels; then he leaned
over the back of the seat.
"It's safe now," he said under his breath.
"Come," as Rob, white from his imprisonment
and the shock, dragged himself out of his close

"That brute has for once got outwitted,"
said John through his teeth, as Rob slid into
place on the seat. "Well, my boy, we better
whip up, and get you along as smart as we can."
With that he brought the whip down on Dandy's
astonished haunches, making him skip over the
frozen road at a remarkable pace, which in due
time brought the two, so singularly connected
as traveling companions, into the town of Free-
"Now," said John, drawing a long breath,
"we're in luck if the train for Parkersville
hasn't gone out."
Rob sat straight on the old wagon seat, and
gazed out into the gathering dusk. A railroad
journey under any circumstances was an event
in his short life; under the present conditions
he was thrilled through and through at the
mere thought of the experience; and with the
increasing dread of the terror he had barely
escaped, pursuing him, he peered anxiously
over at the little station in front'of which a
knot of men were standing.
Has train gone to Parkersville? shouted
John Ellis, in a tremor almost as great as the
one overpowering Rob.
"No; she ain't in," volunteered one man,
throwing a glance down the track: "five min-
utes late. Here she comes!"
"No time to buy your ticket," said John
hoarsely. Jump out. Here, you, hold my
horse, will you?" to the men. "I'11 speak to
the conductor; come on, Rob."
Rob scuttled after, quivering with excitement,
down the platform-length as the train whizzed
up and stopped. John pulled him forward as
the conductor jumped off the step of the pas-
senger coach.
This boy wants to go to Parkersville. Will
you see him safely there, and tell him when to
get off ? "
All right," said the conductor, his mind on
his train, and the lost time he would have to
make up.
He will pay for his ticket on the train,"
said John; there wasn't any time to buy it."
All right," said the conductor again; and
looking at his watch, "Jump on, my boy."
He hasn't ever traveled any," said John,
" and you'll have to kinder look out for him."


Yes, yes; I understand," said the conductor
sharply. Get on, if you are going to. We
don't wait here all night."
"Yes, get on," said John, with a warm grasp
of the brown hand in his ; then he gave him a
gentle push. Rob jumped up on the steps, the
conductor waved his hand, and jumped up
beside him, and Rob was adrift in the world,
the face of the last friend who bound him to
the old home, slowly receding from his view.

.i t '
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, 'i ; ,' ,- '* t i ", t .



ERHAPS the boys and girls reading
PAss -would like to hear something
aboutem? Well, they are little girls
.: ; ,. -
, I" 1 :.- .' ,,*/ --

very dear to their papa and mamma.
Fanny or Puss is six years old, while Mary or
Fanny or Puss is six years old, while Mary or

Tootens is nearly four. Pussis a busy wee body,
much occupied helping mamma take care of the
house; having papa's study ready for him when he
comes home tired, and looking after his general
comfort. Papa is sure to find his slippers beside
his big chair, and knows his little maiden has
put them there. Puss has also to attend to her
f inily of dolls, from Edna the eldest, to Rosie
the youngest, and insists upon her children obey-
ing her. She is very motherly, and it distresses
her much when any of them have some
Sinfantile sickness; at least she says this
one or that has. When such a crisis comes
'. she at once sends for Dr. Jimmy, her
brother eight years old. If Dr. Jimmy
Sfails in making the child doll better Dr.
SGordon, her five-year-old brother, has to
be called in. The two doctors always make
i the sick one well. They feel its pulse, and
S would dearly love to look at its tongue.
Dr. Jimmy is gentle in his treatment, while
S Dr. Gordon is somewhat heroic. When
her children are all better Mamma Puss
shows her joy by singing to them Gen-
tle Jesus, meek and mild," or Twinkle,
twinkle, little star," and tells them all
sorts of wonderful stories.
Tootens is a good-natured little pudge,
broad as long; t:kes matters very easy,
and when her brothers and sister are romp-
ing is usually found sitting on a stool be-
side papa, a gentleman she innocently im-
Sagines can do anyt:ii ., f,'om mending toys
to building houses. Tootens isvery proud
and fond of her one doll, called Lucy, and
her papa often hears her saying to Lucy,
"Jesus loves me, that I know, for the
Bible tells me so." This is Tootens' favor-
ite hymn, and sometimes when dollie is
asleep she marches up and down the par-
lor with her fat, chubby hands behind her
back, singing the verses to herself.
When bedtime comes Puss and Tootens
kneel at mamma's knee, ask Jesus to take care
of them till morning light, kiss dear papa, and
go off to the Land of Nod, two of the happiest
little girls in Canada.
Another time I will write something more
about them and their brothers.

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J*1tci because, its gray and blue,
April! April that means you.'
From Children's Allmci4ac." ELIZABETH STUART PRELTS.




(A story in two parts.)


T was the gray pony that Helen
Y- wanted to take. He was such a
Swise horse that there was no need in
thinking about the trains all the time.
c Besides, he could follow those bewil-
Sduring findings through the woods
as well as though he had laid out the roads him-
self, if indeed they had been laid out at all.
But just as she was thinking of asking Phillip
to harness for her she heard Mary's voice say-

to take those rose-cuttings to Aunt Hattie this
afternoon, and I wanted Gray myself."
Why can't you take Brownie ?" said Mary.
"There's Phillip driving into the yard with him
now; he will be ready to go as soon as he has
had his dinner."
Well," said Helen after a minute, I s'pose
I'll have to do that. I hate to drive Brownie
because he doesn't know the roads; and he
thinks he does and keeps turning where he ought
not. You have to watch him every minute."
Mary laughed, and said that was good disci-
pline for Helen; that she was too much in-
clined to dream in the daytime. And then
she climbed into her carriage and drove away.


ing in a tone of authority, "Stand over !" and
looking from the window saw she was harness-
ing the gray pony to the high carriage.
Where are you going ?" she called, and
Mary answered promptly that she was going to
Lake Minnow to call on the Allen girls.
"0 dear !" said Helen, "I promised mamma

Half an hour afterward Helen drove out in
the phaeton. She was going to call for her
dear friend Winnie Chester who was boarding
at the hotel. Under the seat was her little
hand bag with all needed articles for the night,
because she often stayed at Aunt Hattie's all
night, and Winnie had promised the very next


time she went with her to stay and enjoy the
new milk from Aunt Hattie's cow and the cream
muffins she was sure to make.
It was a lovely afternoon. The ride was
thoroughly enjoyed by both girls. Brownie trot-
ted along briskly, although the roads were sandy
and made just the right turnings, as if he had

"I don't rememlber any of them," said Win-
nie; "the roads look alike to me in this country.
Doesn't Brownie know the way home?"
Brownie is not to be depended upon," said
Helen gravely. "He thinks he knows every-
thing, but he makes dreadful mistakes. That
is the reason I wanted to take Gray. I do get

heard and resented Helen's complaint about him.
Aunt Hattie's was reached in good time and
in safety, but alas! for the plans about new milk
and cream muffins. Aunt Hattie and Uncle
Henry were both away from home. They had
gone to town for the day. The rose-cuttings
had to be consigned to Jake, and the two girls
stayed only long enough for Brownie to get a
drink of water ; for the roads were heavy, and
twilight fell early in this part of the country.
They rode along in a leisurely manner, chatting
pleasantly, stopping every little while for ferns
and mosses. Suddenly Helen said:
"It is growing dark. The sun has set; did
you know it? I never thought of such a thing,
and we are not near home; where are we, any-
way ? I don't remember this pond, do you?"

so mixed up on these roads. This doesn't look
natural to me, but we will drive on a little
farther and see what we come to."
WThat they came to was a rough narrow path
which Helen felt certain she had never seen
before. She drove slowly, with a troubled face,
uncertain whether it was best to go on or to
turn around and try to find the way back. To
add to their perplexity the short twilight had
disappeared and it was unmistakably dark. No
moon, and the trees so thick that the stars gave
very little light. They had almost entirely
ceased talking and were occupied, the one in
trying to drive, the other in the vain hope of
seeing something familiar.
"I can't see at all," she said at last; "what
shall we do? I don't know the way home."


Won't your people come to find yon when
they see how dark it is?" asked Winnie.
They think we are going to stay at Aunt
Hattie's," s:;id. Ielen, trying to speak bravely,
but feeling her heart beat so hard that it seemed
to her Winnie must hear it. Silence again for
a few minutes, lien Winnie exclaimed :
"There's a dog barking. Somebody must
be coming. Helen, aren't you afraid?"
SI see a light," said Helen, in a cheerful voice.
vWae are coming to a house. I am so glad."
Was she? In a few minutes more she knew
that she was sorry. A little old log cabin set
down in the woods, no sign of civilization any-
where, unless that tumbled-down cabin stood
for it and half a dozen growling dogs. In the
doorway stood the worst-looking woman the
girls had ever seen, or rather had ever been able
to inugine. Tall, gaunt, with a long thin chin,
peiaked nose, and strong red arms bare to the
elbows. She was speaking to in nucouth man
or 1by around whom the dogs frolicked as
though they knew him. The only relief to the
picture was the sight of a very little girl who
seem-ed not at all afraid of the dogs, and who
welcomed the ragged, silly-looking man with a
gurgle of ]:nl.gter. At sight of the carriage
the whole company, dogs included, turned and
gave undivided attention.
"Lost your way, cll?" said the woman;
that's bad such a dark night as this. I reckon
the old man himself couldn't find the road to
Pine Loch to-night, al hle know s most roads in
this country. You'll just have to stay all night.
I reckon we can put you sonmwhere ; you need
daylight for getting home, that's certain.
You're m1ruch as three mile out o' your way."
In a silence that was very near despair, the
two girls stepped down from the phaeton,
shrinking from the dogs in a tremble of terror,
despite the woman's loud assurance that they
wouldn't "hurt a hair of their heads." No
sooner were they inside the cabin than, but for
the dogs, they would have rushed out again.
Never had they dreamed of such a place for
human beings to live; rough logs for walls,
rough boards for floors; an open fireplace for a
stove, over which a pot hung at this minutes
filled with a mixture so vile-smelling that the
two frightened girls had almost to hold their

breaths to keep from fainting. At least that
was the way it appeared to thorn ; lihough really
it was nothing worse than i ,:e 'miue! ilard that
was scorching. Utterly rlefu in: to (-: a mouth-
ful of the biack-looking bread lthat was urged
upon them, and too frighi:ned to do much
besides looking at one ainothcr, they l re.re thank-
ful when the woman told tiln they looked
tuckeredd out" and she "reckoned they had
better turn in for the nightt" To this end she
lighted what was really a pinw torch, though
the girls did not know it, and Iprep:aed to climb
the staircase which was notlini: lbut a ladder.
Meantime the one she called her old man"
had come in and the situation had been ex-
plained to him, he nodding wisely at intervals
and saying: "Just so, just so." Poor Helen
thought he looked worse than his wife, and she
followed the woman up the ladder stairs in
haste to get away from the '1, .. man. Oh!
what would their mothers have thought if they
had seen the room into which their cherished
daughters were shown for the night. The bed-
stead was made of two boxes with slats across,
and a tick filled with dried lmoss and leaves.
There was a broken chair, andl a box that
.served for a table. These were the only at-
tempts at furniture. The one little window had
no sash, nothing but a window shiutter through
whose half-open mouth the b:,yiigL of those
awful dogs could be distinctly lie'rd.
"I reckon you diinno' how to -.a. ,_. a
torch," said the woman, so I won't leave it for
you, but the light will come iup through the
chinks in the logs enough for you to got into
bed by. I reckon there's kive s enough. The
nights are mighty cold nowVad:lys."
Not a word had the frightened girls to
answer, but the moment the woman and her
torch had disappeared down the ladder they
flew into each other's arms and sobbed as though
their hearts would break.
"'I'm afraid to go to bed," murmured Winnie,
"and I'm afraid to sit up. We can't stay here,
ITelen. Let's slip out and run away."
We can't," whispered Helen ; those awful
dogs-just hear them!" and she shook like a
leaf. Only think, Winnie, mamma supposes
we are safe in bed in Aunt Hattie's pretty
room." PANSY.


A BIBLE LESSON. (From the painting by Mrs. Alma-Tadema.)

- -- -- --




H O said Ralph, "I've got a speck of a
verse this time, and I don't see much
sense to it, I must say."
"Read it out," said his mother, sewing rapidly.
"It must be a queer verse if it hasn't much sense.
Is it one of Grandmother's?"
0, yes! marked round and round. One, two,

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three-it is just seven words: 'Love is the ful-
filling of the law.' "
It has plenty of sense, I think. What does
it say to you?"
"Why, it says," said Ralph, laughing, "that if
I love you, it doesn't make any matter whether
I mind you or not. Well, if that's true, it's a
nice idea. Shall we try it, mother? I'll agree
to love you, right straight through, and then

you won't care about the minding, you see."
"But I don't see any such thing. It doesn't
say that to me, Ralph; and no more it didn't to
Grandmother; she was very particular about the
minding. What it says is, that if you love folks
enough, you will be sure to keep their laws, just
because you love them."
S'pose their laws aren't worth keeping ?"
"Yes, I see," said Mrs. Selmser, stopping to
bite the end of her thread, "my explanation
wasn't good; there's no supposing' any such
thing in this case, because it is talking about
His laws, and all of them are worth keeping."
Well," said Ralph, after a thoughtful pause,
"I don't see how that would make a boy keep
to rules, and things."
"Just you try it to-morrow," his mother said,
"and see how many things that verse will fit."
"To-morrow" was one of the
worst days in the year for a boy
to keep in exactly the right
track. It was "April fool's
diiy," and it seemed to be well
named; for every boy at least,
,rs well as some of the girls,
:rted as foolish as possible.
Being a boy, and as full of
fin as any of them, Ralph had
his temptations, but, on the
%. hole, got through the day
!p,'etty well, and congratulated
Ih mself on the way home, that
I, had had "lots of fun, and
SI didn't done anything very dread-
Sto,l either."
Just around the corner, on
.. Newton Street, he came plump
i, on Jerry Smith.
Jerry had set up business but
a short time before, and was
doing his best to make a living,
S..ii; bunches of early spring flowers, choice
bits of moss, and lichen, and indeed anything
he could find in the woods or out of it, to sell.
He really worked very hard ; sometimes under
most discouraging circumstances; having been
known to tramp ll day long without making a
penny. On this particular occasion he looked
very funny indeed to Ralph. He was bare-
footed, though the spring day was not any too


warm for comfort; he had seated himself in
the shelter of a wall, his hat had fallen off, his
mouth had fallen open, and Jerry was fast
asleep. Poor fellow, he had been up since day-
light working hard, and selling little; this was
one of his bad days.
But the only thought Ralph had at first, was
how funny the fellow looked sitting there in
broad daylight, sound asleep. After a moment,
came another thought. Jerry's mouth stood so
invitingly open. What if he should pop into
it the brown bug he was carrying home for
Miss Edwards' collection! He could easily get
her another, and what delicious fun it would
be to see Jerry jump and sputter, and sneeze,
and all but choke over that unexpected morsel.
"It's a clean little fellow, and not poison, nor
This Ralph explained to himself, in reply to
seven inconvenient words which came suddenly
to mind Grandmother's marked words: "Love
is the fulfilling of the law."
"Pshaw!" he added impatiently as the seven
words kept repeating themselves in a kind of
steady undertone. What sense is there in
saying that, all the while. As if this bug had
anything to do with 'love,'-or law, and as if
the law was about Jerry, anyhow. I know all
the Commandments, and there isn't a word in
them about a bug. It isn't a bad bug, and
he won't swallow it, either, of course."
It's of no use, Ralph. You know too much
about Grandmother's Bible to be caught by any
such weak arguments. As distinctly as though
that had been his verse for the day instead of
the other, there came trooping into Ralph's
mind the words: "Whatsoever ye would that
men should do to you, do ye even so to them."
Here was a law not in the Ten Commandments
in so many words, but spoken by the same voice
of authority.
"Well," said Ralph reflectively, "I'm not
afraid of brown hugs-not nice clean fellows
like this one. I wouldn't mind, maybe." The
last word put in as a sort of after thought, spoken
more slowly than the others. IHe worked the toe
of his strong old shoe deep into the mud while
he stood and thought. Visions of himself in
Jerry's place, came to him; Jerry who had
probably had very little breakfast, and no dinner

to speak of; Jerry, barefooted, and shivery, try-
ing to sell things that people didn't want; Jerry
who had no nice hot supper waiting for him at
home. If such a strange thing should happen
as that he should ever sit on the street corner
asleep under like circumstances, would he like
to have a fat brown bug put slyly into his
open mouth by a giggling boy? That was the
"No," said this honest boy slowly, "I just
Well, then, "Love is the fulfilling of the law."
Did he love Jerry enough to obey this law for
his sake, and forego his fun? The fact was, he
didn't believe that he loved Jerry at all; Jerry
might be well enough for those who liked him,
but Ralph had never exactly approved of him
in any way.
Suddenly a curious look came into the boy's
eyes. Just at that moment this question dawned
upon him: Ralph Selmser, do you love the
Lord Jesus Christ enough to fulfill his law?
It is that wonderful Jesus who cares about
Jerry Smith, and would not have an uncom-
fortable thing done to him. If you do honestly
love him, you will fulfill his law even in what
you consider so small a matter as this.
Back went the bug into Ralph's pocket. It
had had a narrow escape, but Miss Edwards
was sure of it now for her collection. Ralph
dived his hand into the other pocket and drew
therefrom a lovely square of golden gingerbread.
He had been pumping water for Mrs. Ebenezer
Tucker, and she had given him a large piece of
gingerbread in return. Carefully he broke off
a generous "chunk" and deftly poked it into
Jerry's open mouth, then dodged behind a
"Ah! ugh! whissch !" sputtered Jerry, sit-
ting up straight and bringing both hands to his
month to remove the obstruction. Then he
stared at it, then rubbed his eyes and looked
about him in all directions, a much bewildered
boy. Suddenly a broad smile spread over his
freckled face.
"I'm blessed," he said aloud, "if I haven't
been asleep, and there's been an April shower,
and it has rained gingerbread! "
Whereupon he put the chunk back into his
large mouth.





S1' OB gazed at the figure on the platform
'.Y '. gradually growing smaller to his view
'.L as the train whizzed slowly out of the
little station, then turned, and with a
sinking heart stumbled into the car. It was
only half-filled, and without difficulty he selected
a seat and tried to compose himself as best he
might, to this new and tremendous experience
so suddenly thrust upon him. And as the speed
of the train increased he was astonished to find
instead of the dismay that had been his on part-
ing with John, a feeling of exhilaration taking
possession of him ; so much so that he could re-
joice at every revolution of the car-wheels
bearing him off so swiftly.
Was lie not his own master, with a bag of
money in his coat, going out to make his future
and shake his fist at evil fortune ? Rob threw
back his brown head and involuntarily laid his
hand on the place where the gold was concealed.
Then he remembered, and twitched away his
hand, casting a wide glance around to see if he
were observed. But he could not so easily con-
trol his imagination. The wildest of visions
danced before his excited eyes. He was even
to shake hands with the Mayor of Fairport
before he got through with making himself.
Perhaps he would be the Mayor himself or
Governor, who could tell? With that Rob sank
back in his seat overpowered in the delicious
"Fare !"said the conductor, punching him
Hey ?" said Rob, looking up.
"Fare! The conductor bestowed another
punch, seeing him only half waked up. "Oh !
you're the boy I was to look out for. Well,
hurry up ; can't wait all day."
Rob still stared awkwardly, twisting his
brown fingers. If he had asked for a ticket he
would have understood.
Have you a ticket?" demanded the con-
ductor harshly. "If you haven't any money
I'll put you off at the next station."

"Oh let the kid ride," said a young man in
the seat back. First time, you know, his
mother let him out. Hee, hee, hee!"
"I have plenty of money, thank you," de-
clared Rob proudly, including his interceder
in the glance he bestowed on the train official,
and forgetting Miss Ellis's charge to use the silver
dollar in his pocket, he threw open his coat,
.1, ,._..1 out the bag of gold, and shaking out a
five dollar piece, he held it triumphantly up
before the conductor's face. "There! take my
pay out of that."
Conductor Riggs took a good look at the boy.
"Where are you going to?" he demanded
"To Parkersville," contributed Rob, thrilling
at the thought that he was holding such business
converse, and stating his plans like a man.
"I s'pose it's all right," said the conductor,
taking the gold bit between a slow thumb and
finger, "but I'm not sure that I ought not to
send you right back. At any rate, I'll give you
this advice: don't be so quick to show your
money." He leaned over as he said these last
words, and sent them down Rob's brown ear,
till they seemed to burn into the boy's brain.
Rob started. A hot flush of mingled shame,
at so soon forgetting the instructions plentifully
furnished him and a vague terror at the con-
ductor's manner, now seized him. He silently
took the change counted out to him, and afraid
to put it in the bag, dropped it into the pocket
with the silver dollar, against which it rattled
Going far?" asked .a voice; and Rob, gath-
ered up into the corner by the window, turned
to see the young man who had advised the con-
ductor to let him go ticket free.
"Yes-no," said Rob, showing no pleasure
at the chance of making a new acquaintance.
Ah the stranger dropped easily into the
seat by the boy's side.
Well, now, I can remember, and 'twarn't
such a very long time ago neither, when I was
a chap like you a-leaving home. It comes hard
now, don't it?" He leaned forward and peered
into the boy's face. But Rob did not answer.
"But then, I soon got over that," said the
young man, throwing back his coat with a hand
theit had more rings upon it than traces of soap


snd water. You see when a boy sets out to be
a man there's a lot of work to do, and he hain't
no time to suck his thumbs. Going to Parkers-
ville, T believe?" he brought up confidentially.
Rob was obliged to confess that this was his
'" Well, there ain't much to be seen there;
only a small place, that ain't grown much in
the last ten years," said the young man, as if
watching the progress of towns was his chief
occupation. "If you want to see things buzz,
you'd better go to New York. I tell you, the
dirt flies there."
"'\\i ..., 's New York ?" asked Rob, betrayed
into curiosity by the delicious power of finding
out the hitherto unknowable. Here was a man,
now, who could tell him things. Why shouldn't
he learn all lie could ?
New York? Well, I should smile," said
the stranger, then concealing the contempt of
his exclamation, "Oh! well, I wasn't as young
as you when I first saw the metropolis. If you
ain't ever seen New York, you better git up
and git there the next chance you have. I tell
you, you're made when you're once there."
Rob turned hot, then cold. The glittering
possibilities dazzled him and he lost what little
head lie possessed at first, and before many
moments were over, had communicated enough
of his intentions to easily allow the other to
guess the rest.
"Now, I tell you what," exclaimed the young
man, when this drawing out had been accom-
plished and clapping his companion on the back,
"you're too smart a boy to bury yourself in
that old hole of a Parkersville. I can put you
in the way of making your fortune in a year or
so. You ain't the first boy I've helped up, not
1y a jug full. I like you, and I'll do it. By the
way, old fellow, what's your name?"
Rob hesitated as it now flashed across him
the danger that lay in the disclosure of his real
self. After' he had once safely reached his
cousin's no matter who knew his name and his.
tory. But until then, lie must be careful.
"I guess there's some reason why you want
to keep shady; el, pal ?" suggested the other
in a low voice.
"I've done nothing I'm ashamed of," cried
Rob hotly.

I'd just as lief anybody'd know my name,"
said his companion; "it's John Smith, and I don't
care who knows it."
But Rob was not to be caught, and he closed
his lips tightly.
Lucky I've got to get off at Parkersville,"
said John Smith presently, as the train slowed
up. "Now I can put you in the way of finding
your cousin's house; then I'll just run ahead
and look in on my old father."
"Do your folks live here?" asked Rob, think-
ing himself quite lucky in finding such a friendly
hand, and surprised that he had not found this
out sooner.
"Ya-as. Got an old father there. Pretty
rich he is, and he wanted me to stay to home
and take his business--but la! 'twas too dull
for John Smith, so I was off to New York.
I'm going home now for a bit of a visit, then
I'm back to Wall Street again "-
"Parkersville !" shouted the brakeman, put-
ting his head in the door. Rob for his life could
not have told what the man uttered, but his
companion bestowed a friendly push upon him,
and getting upon legs that were stiff and unac-
customed to travel, the boy followed his new
friend down the car-aisle and out to the bustle
of the station.
Two minutes later the conductor rushed in, an
inpatient frown on his face. Why, where's
that boy?" he cried, confronting Rob's vacant
seat. I forgot to call the greenhorn when we
reached Parkersville."
He got out," volunteered a woman across
the aisle, with that young-man who was his
"The one who was sitting back of him ?"
demanded the conductor sharply.
Yes ; lie was at first, but they got dreadful
intimate, and they went out together."
The conductor's color changed and he bit his
lip. But no one knew from .l,.. ilh i he said
who Rob's seatmate was. And a nervous pas-
senger pulling his coat as he passed her seat, to
ask for the dozenth time when the train would
arrive at Frankport, he was furnished an oppor-
tunity to expend all his annoyance.
M.[. .,,l .I... Rob and his friend strolled along
Main Street until they reached a corner where
a few bottles in the window seductively labeled


choice wine and brandy, with Sample Room
above in glittering letters, brought John Smith's
feet to a sudden standstill.
"By the way," lie exclaimed, with one of the
hearty clia s by which he had already made
known his affection for Rob, we must drop in
and see my brother," and he pulled the boy
along a few steps toward the store.
"Is this your brother's store?" asked Rob,
running his eyes over the window and its con-
"Yes," said John Smith. "Come in, old
fellow." But Rob stood still.
I'll wait for you out here," said Rob.
"No, no! Come ahead; what youafraid of?"
Nothing, only I'll wait for you here." The
country lad now planted both feet so firmly on
the ground that the other said briskly "Oh !
well, never mind. I'll see you on your way and
get you all safe at your cousin's, then I'll run
back to my brother's. Come ahead," and he
fell into step with the boy.
"It's too bad for you to go with me," began
Rob. "P'raps I can find it alone."
"No, you can't," said John Smith; "it's
awful hard to find it. Jim, my brother, won't
care. He'll wait and.'twon't take me long to
run back. Now, your cousin lives off here,"
hurrying the boy down a side street and doub-
ling around that into a narrow lane.
"I thought they lived on the big street," said
Rob, stumbling after.
Well, this is the nearest way," said John
Smith, rushing ahead. You trust me, and
you'll come out all right."
Rob instinctively put his hand to his coat and
held it fast. But it was too late. In a minute
his new friend suddenly paused, and in the angle
of a high, ill-looking tenement, dealt him a
stunning blow on the forehead.
"You young villain, hand over that money!"
hissed John Smith, seizing him by the throat.
SQuick, or I'll kill you! "
But Rob hung like a faithful dog to his trust,
holding his coat close, obliging John Smith to
tear it open by one vigorous lunge.
"Take that, now, you scamp!" and with a
parting blow he gathered Rob's money-bag up
and lost himself in the tangle of tenement
holises he knew so well how to thread.


N the farthest southeastern island of the
Philippine group, Mindlian,, upon one of
its mountains, Parag, in the neighborhood of
the highest peak on the island, the volcano Apo,
a party of botanical and ethnographical ex-
plorers found recently at the height of twenty-
five hundred feet above the sea level, a colossal
The discoverer, Doctor Alexander Scha-
denberg, could scarcely believe his eyes when
he saw amid the low-growing bushes the im-
mense buds of this flower, like gigantic brown
cabbage heads. But he was still more aston-
ished when he found a specimen in full bloom,
a five-petaled flower nearly a yard in diameter
-as large as a carriage wheel, in fact. This
enormous blossom was borne on a sort of vine
creeping on the ground. It was known by the
native who accompanied Dr. Schadenberg, who
called it bo-o. The party had no scale by which
the weight of the flower could be ascertained,
but they improvised a swinging scale, using
their boxes and specimens as weights. Weigh-
ing these when opportunity served, it was found
that a single flower weighed over twenty-two
It was impossible to transport the fresh
flower, so the travelers photographed it and
dried a number of its leaves by the heat of a
fire. Dr. Schadenberg then sent the photo-
graphs and dried specimens to the Royal Botan-
ical Gardens at Breslau, where the learned
director immediately recognized it as a species
of rafilesia, a plant formerly discovered in
Sumatra and named after the English governor,
Sir Stamford Raffles. The new flower was ac-
cordingly named Rafflesia Schadenbergia.
The five petals of this immense flower are
oval and creamy white and grow around a
centre filled with countless long violet-hied
stamens, thicker and longer in the female, or
fertile flowers, than in the infertile. The fertil-
ization is accomplished by insects, whose larvm
breed in the decaying flesh of its thick petals.
The fertile flower develops a soft, berrylike
fruit, in which countless seeds are embedded.
The flower exhales a poisonous gas even when
first opened. Selected.





'IHE house was very still. The night
',~!. J lamp on the mantel shed the softest,
i smalllest -lght, just like a little star
twinkling in the far-away sky. Maud
h ad been asleep and dreamed a terrible
dream. She thought she had a kitten with two
heads, one where the tail ought to be, following
her down the stairs, down the long hall and out
on the porch. Instead of the usual "M eow"
it had said to her in a little squeaking voice,
" Ilaud told a lie Maud told a lie !"
Now she was wide awake and up in her little
bed, but although she knew there was no truth
in dreams and that kittens never had two
mouths and that she was not on the lawn
in the darkness, she was trembling like a
leaf and felt that she could not possibly
lie down and go to sleep again. I can
tell you just what was the matter; she
knew that if the kitten had been there
and had said those words they would have
been true, and the kitten not being able
to talk did not take away the sad feel-
ing that she had told a lie. "I did not
exactly tell a lie either," she said to her-
self, but I lived it, and that is just the
same, and I must see mammna."
This is the way it happened: Maud
and the kittens had been having the wild-
est kind of a frolic out on the lawn the
night before. She had never seen Sport
act so cunning, and as for Racer she did
not know that kittens could run so fast.
In the midst of their fun Mary had called
her to open the side gate for the baby's
carriage, and to run upstairs and get the baby's
sack from the nursery. On her way down she
could Lear her mother's voice in the sewing-
room. It was growing dusk and Ma'ud had a
slight cold. She thought of both these things
and felt sure that when her mother honrd her
step on the stairs she would say: Manlie don't
go out any more to-night, the dew is falling."
But Maudie wanted to go out and finish her
frolic with the kittens. What should she do?
You would never guess what she did, and I
hate to have to tell you, but the sorrowful truth
is that she ran back to the nursery, took a pretty

little wad of pink cotton that she had remem-
bered seeing on the shelf there and poked great
pieces of it in her ears; then she tramped down
the stairs and through the hall as fast as she
could go. She felt almost certain that her
mother spoke her name, but she stuffed the pink
cotton closer in her pretty ears and sped on.
Then when mamma asked her, half an hour
afterwards, with grave face:
Maud, didn't y3' hear mamma call when
yon passed through the hall a little while ago?
Didn't you hear mamma tell you not to go out
again ?" Maudie looked up with her great
earnest eyes and said :
No, mamma, I didn't hear you at all." She
thought she was telling the truth, but now, in the
darkness, she knows she looked and acted a lie.

I.----- -'

i '



uMAi) IS TIi-,L- a. -.

Happy Maud, to discover before it was too
late that she could not look and act a lie and be
at rest in her heart. Iappy Maud to have de-
cided then and there that she would tell mnamma
all about it before she tried to sleep again.
Happy little M:ind t1, have leeI;n kissed and for-
given, and to have whispered her soft:
"Dear Jesus, please forgive me, and don't let
me use any more pink cotton ever. Amen."
Then Maud's head dropped on her pillow and
with a relieved little sigh she fell asleep, and
no kittens with two heads troubled her rest.




SOME elephants resemble men in their lia-
bility to sudden outbursts of passion, and
in their exhibition of remorse when, the passion
having subsided, they see the results of their
violent temiiper. An illustration of an elephant's
violence aiidl contrition is given by General
George Bell, in his Rough Notes of an Old
Soldier," written while he was serving in India.
While the party was in camp, a Mahout went
with his elephant to cut forage. As he was
binding it in bundles, the elephant began to help
himself and knocked about the bundles already
tied up.
The Mahout punished the beast for his dis-
obedience by a blow on the shins, which so en-
raged the elephant that he seized the man with
his trunk, dashed him to the ground and tram-
pled him to death.
No sooner had he killed his keeper than he
repented, roared and bolted for the jungle to
hide himself. Six other elephants, guided by
their Mahouts, followed him. On being driven
into a corner he surrendered, and was led into
camp a prisoner, and chains were placed on his
Then came his punishment. An elephant
was placed on either side, each holding a heavy
iron chain. As the dead body of the Mahout
was laid on the grass before him, the elephant
roared loudly, being perfectly aware of what he
had done.
A Mahout ordered the two elephants to pun-
ish the murder. Lifting the two heavy chains
high in the air, with their trunks they whipped
him with these iron whips until he made the
camp echo with his roars of pain. He was
then picketed by himself, and an iron chain at-
tached to his hind leg, o hic hle dragged after
him on the march. Sclcted.

Do you know a people in Burmah called the
Karens ? It is said that they have sent thirty
thousand dollars in one year to the Baptist Mis-
sionary society, to be used for foreign missions !
Don't you think Burmah would better send
some missionaries to this country to teach us
how to give?

(Life. )

Ye are the salt cf t/he earthi.- Matt. v. 13.

OF course you know that salt is used to save
things; meat, for example. And you
know that ye C'i i il are not salt in su:h
a sense. Suppose you use the little word like,
as one does a key, and see how many such texts
you can unlock, thus: Ye are like salt. Now
see, if you can, what likeness there is between
salt and ('I~ .
Then try this like on verse fourteen. Try it
on Matt vii. 15: vi. 18; John x. 14, 7 : xv. 1.
Into ever so many such verses put this key, like,
and quickly the door of difficulty will fly open.
Look, and you will find this very key in Matt.
xiii. 31, 33, 44: xxiii. 27; James i. 6.


f HE was feeding Sport the kitten with
a silver spoon, smiling over the curious
way in which the little pink tongue
lapped up the creamy drops.
Tabby, the mother, meantime sitting on the
easy chair, with her tail curled gracefully over
her paws, looked on, well pleased with the per-
fornance. She had enjoyed her saucer of milk,
having eaten it in her own fashion, without any
spoon, a way that she very much preferred.
But every one to his taste, and if her Sport was
to be brought up to use silver spoons, why, she
was willing.
Before Sport's supper was over, Mrs. Car-
penter looked in as she passed the hall.
"IIelen," she said, "I don't like to have Tabby
on that chair; I don't especially like to have
cats in this room, any way; and, my dear, you
should not use the table spoons for the kitten! "
Why not, mamma? She is just as clean as
any of us; and her little pink tongue laps up
the milk in such a cunning way. She is very
fond of cream; this is nearly all cream I am
giving her to-night, and she likes it much better
than milk."
"lWhich reminds me," said Mrs. Carpenter,
that I have something to tell you. The Park-


mans sent to-day to know if we could let them
have milk; their Susic is not at all well, and
the doctor has ordered milk for her; but they
can get none, anywhere. I told them your own
little cow that Grandma gave you was the only
one giving milk now, and that you had the dis-
posing ol it yourself, and I would ask you as
soon as you came home."
Well, but, mamma," said Helen, in a half-
reproachful tone, "how could we spare any?
We use every bit of the milk ourselves, and do
not have enough."
"Of course we could only spare it by sacrific-
ing, dear; we are willing to do so, if you want
to accommodate little Susy. But I felt as
though, since you had been promised the entire
management of the milk, you should do the
planning yourself."
Silence on Helen's part for some minutes,
then a long-drawn sigh; then this:
"I suppose, mamma, Tabby and Sport might
go without milk for awhile, though I don't see
how they can when they have always lived on
it. It does seem as though there ought to be
milk somewhere besides at our house!"
Mrs. Carpenter said not a word.
"But if you think best," said Helen, after
another pause, "they can do without for awhile,
I suppose."
"I certainly think we should accommodate
a sick neighbor if we can," said Mrs. Car-
penter. "Then I will send them word they
can have a pint a day. Thatis about what you
give Tabby and Sport now; it will give Susy a
spoonful or two of cream, which will be better
than none."
This plan was carried out; the next day at
the supper table Mrs. Carpenter, as she helped
Helen to her second glass of rich milk, said:
"Mrs. Parkman is very grateful for her pint of
milk; she says Susy relishes the cream from it
better than anything they have tried. She ex-
pressed so much gratitude for the accommoda-
tion, that it was almost embarrassing."
"She should have expressed it to Tabby and
Sport," said Mr. Carpenter ; "as nearly as 1 can
learn, they are the ones who are sacrificing for
Susy's benefit; they certainly deserve a vote of
thanks; but as for the rest of us, I do not use
milk, and cannot therefore join the cats in their

benevolence. I think it should be explained to
Susy to whom the gratitude is due."
"IPapa," said Helen, her cheeks very red, "I
will go without my milk if Susy needs it; I did
not think."
"The cream from a pint of milk is hardly
enough nourishment for a child who can take
nothing else," Mr. Carpenter said gravely. If
my daughter would sacrifice for herself, as well
as for her kittens, awhile, I certainly think it
would be more in keeping with the rule by
which she ought to live."
So Helen joined Tabby and Sport in their
sacrifice and knew for three weeks what it was
to live without milk.
It is harder for the kittens than for me,"
she said to her mother, because I can see that
the milk is doing Susy good and they don't
know anything about it; they just think I am
hateful, I suppose, because I won't give it to
them." This sentence was followed by one of
Helen's long pauses. Then she said in a grave
tone, Mamma, I have just thought of some-
thing very strange. What if the things we
have to give up, that, we want, and that we don't
understand why we can't have them-what if
the reasons for doing without them, are as plain
to the angels as the reason the kittens should
not have milk is plain to me? Only we are
like the kittens about some things, and don't
understand. Do you know what I mean,
mamma ? I can't explain it very well."
I think I do," Mrs. Carpenter said, smiling.
" Your kittens are very good teachers. They
helped you to apply the Golden Rule to your
own life; now it seems they are leading you to
higher lessons still."
"Cats have their place," said Helen, after a
little with great gravity, "but I suppose they
can't be like people; and I suppose people
shouldn't be like them."

HTIRE is a hint from the Princess Maud, of
Wales. She picks up all the peacock feathers
about the palace grounds, makes them into fans,
and fire-screens, and sells them at fairs. What
does she do with the none thus earned?
Why, every cent of it goes for benevolence.



BE careful what you sow, my boy,
For seed that's sown will grow,
And what you scatter, day by day,
Will bring you joy or woe.
For sowing and growing,
Then reaping and mowing,
Are the surest things that's known,
And sighing and crying,
And sorrow undying,
Will never change seed that is sown.

Be watchful of your words, my boy,
Be careful of your acts,
For words can cut, and deeds bring blood,
And wounds are stubborn facts.
Whether sleeping or weeping,
Or weary watch keeping,
The seed that is sown still will grow;
The rose brings new roses;
The thorn-tree discloses
Its thorns as an index of woe.

Be careful of your friends, my boy,
Nor walk and mate with vice;
The boy is father to the man";
Then fly when sins entice !
The seed one is sowing
Through time will be c.'"II;,,
And each one must gather his own ;
In joy or in sorrow,
..-1 1v or to-morrow,
You'll reap what your right hand has sown!


T~r 'was a late snowstorm. April had
,'.' come with sunny skies, indeed March
'',.j having colme in like a lion had gone out
-^". like a h Inh), :1d alreadyy Linda had
taken a walk down the .garden paths and
planned her work, only waiting for a few more
hours of sunshine before beginning to arrange
her flower beds. But, to her surprise, and in-
Sdeed to the surprise of most people, that morn-
ing of the very day when she hoped to set at
work she looked out upon a world white with

new-fallen snow. Linda could scarcely keer
back the tears.
0 dear !" she said, "I was so tired of snow,
and now the ground is all covered. Mamma,
do you think we will have summer at all ?"
Being reassured by her mother's words of
cheer Linda concluded to dress and make the
best of it. After breakfast she went out to feed
her doves which came flocking around the door
waiting for their breakfast. As she threw out
the crumbs and chattered to them in response
to their cooing, Harry Burr came along and
stopped to join in the chatter. As Linda threw
out the last of her crumbs a thought came to
her which she fancied would be a good thing to
carry out.
Just wait a minute, Harry," she said, and
she ran in to consult her mother. She was
back again in a moment and was saying to
Harry who stood leaning upon a stick he had
picked up somewhere- Harry was always pick-
ing up something-- arry, mamma says it
would be very nice, and I want you and Bertha
to come over and spend the day; will you come?
You see this snowstorm spoils all the things
Bertha and I had planned to do, and if you
would only come we could get up something in-
teresting. Papa will be away all day, and
mamma says Bertha and I may get the dinner
all ourselves."
At this Harry laughed. "That would be an
inducement. But I think I'll put some cookies
in my pocket; I don't know about your cooking,
nor Bertha's either."
Oh I know how to make a lot of things; I
learned out of books. Say, will you come ?"
Perhaps; I'll tell Bertha as soon as I get
back from the office." And he went whistling
away while Linda, sure of her visitors, set about
her preparations. First she must make out her
bill of fare. But mamma suggested that, Bertha
should help about that if she was to help cook
the dinner. So she waited patiently until her
friend appeared. Then they talked of roast
turkey and all the accompaniments. But at
length Linda's mother suggested that their
plans if carried out would take all their time:
there would be no one to entertain Harry:
so at last they decided to adopt Harry's sug-
gestion, and have an oyster stew with a salad


or some other simple dish. Mamma asked to
be allowed to provide the dessert, and thus it
turned out thlit thie two little cooks lid not very
much to do, .-ilter aill. Dinner was served
proiniitly an:d a:i.s pronounced quite satisfactory.
Mamnnia made only one criticism :
"I think you forgot the pepper, Linda;
please pass lie Iieper."
IWhich will you have, mamma black,
white or cayenne ?"
i"What is the difference between them?"
asked I'erthla.
I'm sure I don't know," sang out Linda with
a merry little laugh, only that one is red and
the others are black and white."
Well, that is quite a difference," said
"Oh! now, Bertha has made up her mind to
find out something and there will be no peace
for anybody until she has her curiosity gratified."
But I want a piece of bread," said Linda,
reaching out for the article.
Linda Walters Miss Dallas says puns are
in had taste," exclaimed Bertha.
Linda only laughed at that, and turning to
Mrs. Walters she said, "Now, mamma, tell us
about pepper, please. I want to know now that
Bertha has suggested the question."
"Well, to begin with, we have really but two
kinds of pepper, or but one kind, for our red or
cayenne pepper is not a pepper, but belongs to
the genus capsicum, while the black and white
peppers are the same thing. The plant of
which pepper is the fruit is a climbing plant
with a woody stem, cultivated in tropical coun-
tries, perhaps more extensively in Sumatra than
elsewhere. The fruit is a red berrv which
turns black ii drying. For some reason which
I cannot explain, the natives tried the effect of
soaking the berries in water until the outer or
dark coat peeled off and left the berries white
or light colored. These they dried and sold as
a new kind of pepper, while it is really the same
as the black, with less strength because deprived
of its outer coat in which much of the pungency
is contained. Pepper is very common nowa-
days, but in ancient times it was considered
quite a luxury and a small quantity of pepper
was thought to be a very suitable gift to bring
to o01ne's sovereign."

How very queer," said Linda.
"You see, fashions and customs change,"
with a smile.
I should think so," remarked Harry.
The red or cayenne pepper is much more
pungent than the others. It grows upon a
small tree and is prepared by drying the seeds
of the fruit which are afterwards mixed with
flour and baked in small cakes, and later ground
again and put up for market."
Thank you very much," said Bertha, as Mrs.
Walters ended. "I shall remember what you
have told us when I ask any one to 'pass the
pepper' !" WItLroT CONDEE.


O H 'tis house-cleaning day on the mountain,
And grand sweeping-day on the plain !
Mother Nature is doing the business
With a scrubbing-brush made of the rain.

The brooklets and streamlets and rivulets,
She uses them each for her broom;
And sweeps away all the old year's dust,
Making ready for May-time's fresh bloom.

She washes the trees and the bushes,
She beats up her carpets of leaves,
She scrubs well the rocks and the pebbles,
And for more worlds to clean she still

With her broom made from cascades and snow-
And mad brooks and wild spring-time rain,
She hurries with gusts and with torrents
To sweep out and dust the broad plain.

And as house-cleaning day with us ever
Is a most disagreeable season,
We groan and we scold at this weather,
That wearies us all beyond reason.

But when she is through, and the sun shines
On the gay world, so sparkling and bright,
We can all join in saying, "Dear mother,
Your house-cleaning day was all right!"

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BJPLC& -"-`-" ~i~lB~arn~-~-~-~




T1 IS 1)0 IN IEMEIFIt. N11 AIA E F 31OI..

R ALPH was in a very happy state of mind.
He had just reached home from an even-
ing spent at the Barwoods' elegant home ; the
handsomest place in town. He had had an
elegant supper and been shown all sorts of kind
attentions from the young ladies of the house,
and altogether lie felt quite satisfied with him-
self, and eager to tell his mother and Mary Jane
the whole story.
"It's the biggest hall I ever saw," he ex-
plained. "It isn't just a hall, you know ; they
have seats in it, great big old-fashioned arm
chairs, and there are pictures and bronze statues
and all sorts of things.
"There is one queer-looking fellow in bronze,
standing by the hall window, that is just as
natural as life. I declare, I couldn't help think-
ing some of the time that he was alive. But he
has a horrid face. I don't know why anybody
should want an image of him, I'm sure.
"Mary Jane, it is well you were not there;
you would have been scared dreadfully over the
dog; he's the biggest dog I ever saw. His name
is Nero. He goes out with Miss Elice when she
takes a walk. Miss Elice is Sherman's sister,.
you know; she seems more like his mother. I
guess lie has to ask her about things just as
though she were ; his mother is dead, you see.
But I do wish you could see that splendid hall
and those lovely wide stairs, and the curtains at
the top and everything."
Ralph drew a sigh of satisfaction, and
stopped for breath. Then Mary Jane asked a
How came Sherman Barwood to ask you
home with him, all on a sudden ? "
"How should I know ? answered Ralph, a
little uneasily. "Because lie wanted to, I sup-
pose. HIe's lonesome in that great big house, I
guess. Some of the boys go home with himi
quite often."

"But he never asked you before, and he is
older than you, isn't he ?"
Not so very much," said Ralph, turning the
leaves of the big Bible. "Mother, where shall
I read to-night ? Then, as though Mary Jane's
questions annoyed him a little, he returned to
them with a half-laugh: Of course, Mary
Jane, if he were ever going to invite me, there
would have to be a first time."
Is he a good boy, Ralph ?"
It was Mrs. Selmser who asked this question,
looking up from her busy needle, at the boy's
:-.!l.'il face for a moment.
"Good enough, I guess," spoken rather reluc-
tantly. Then, catching his mother's eye,
" Well, I mean -sometimes I think he is not
so very honest about things. Gets a peek into
his books if he can, you know, and wants to
stand well in class without digging for it. But
lots of the fellows do that. Here's a verse
marked in green ink; how queer it looks!
Grandmother hardly ever used green ink.
'Take ye heed, watch and pray; for ye know
not when the time is.' That time hasn't come
yet, has it? What an awful while those men
would have had to wait if they had lived till
now. I'm glad they found out about it without
waiting so long."
Mary Jane laughed ; her brother's ideas often
seemed to her very queer; but Mrs. Selmser
was still looking sober over what Ralph had
said before.
"I don't suppose they had to wait lng for a
chance to use the first part of the verse," she
said significantly, and for that matter, the last
half can be used to fit into every-day life. We
don't know when tbo Lord is coming; that's
something to watch for; but we don't know
when danger is coming to us and we need to
watch and pray about that. Maybe you need
to do it over h. I:1, ii Barwood and his sudden
friendship for you. I don't think I care to have
you very great friends with a boy who isn't
strictly honest and honorable if he does live in
such a grand house."
0, mother said Ralph. But having made
this answer he found he had nothing more to
say just then. He chose the first verse of the
reading for his, because his mother wanted him
t,) d, so. iot because he felt that he needed to

r" '


watch especially, and went off to bed presently
quite satisfied with himself and his friendship
with Sherman Barwood.
Neither did he take any special heed in that
direction. On the contrary he met the handsome
boy's kindnesses more than half-way and winked
at or endured in silence several things which he
knew were wrong, calling them to himself not
exactly right," instead of that short plain word
" wrong."
There came a day when he had reason to re-
member his verse, and his mother's warning,
and Mary Jane's questions.
There was no getting away from the fact that
he was in serious trouble. The spring examin-
ations were drawing near; every boy in his
class was very anxious indeed to get into the
next grade and some of them were very much
afraid they would not.
If a fellow could get a peep at the examin-
ation questions that are lying all this while in
Professor Morehead's desk he might know
which way to turn to get ready," said Sherman
Barwood one evening, when Ralph had gone
home with him to get a certain book he had
been promised, and was lingering to enjoy the
beauty and luxury about him. IIe often went
home with Sherman Barwood nowadays; was
indeed quite as intimate with him as any boy in
school, and could not help being just a little
proud of Sherman's evident fondness for his
Are they there?" asked Ralph, in an inter-
ested tone.
"0 yes! safe and sound. Tucked away in
that black-covered book which shuts with a
rubber band. I saw the Professor look them
over the other day, then rubber them up in that
book and push them in under the papers at the
right hand, is though he was afraid if lie didn't
bury them deep enough some of us fellows
would peep through the keyhole and get an
Ralph laughed.
I wish we could," he said carelessly. "Es-
pecially I'd like a peep at the philosophy
questions ; just enough to know which section
the most of them were from. I feel the shlak-
est in that direction of any."
I don't see what particular harm it would

do to let us know which section we are to be
examined in," said .l.-' 1 ini, still with the air of
one who was only interested because his friend
was. "They don't expect the class to be
equally well posted on the entire book, of course ;
if they would just hint which sections to review
most carefully it might help us and be all right
enough, for what I can see."
Ralph laughed. He could "see" that it
wouldn't be right at all, but what was the use
in saying so? Of course Sherman didn't mean
that, anyway.
Well, the days passed, and one evening
Ralph was called to Professor Morehead's room
and asked some questions and told some facts
which perfectly overwhelmed him.
It was quite a long interview, but I can give
it to you in a few words. The examination
papers had been tampered with, some of them;
among others the philosophy questions had
been, the Professor had reason to think, copied.
Certain scraps of paper had been found which
made him pretty sure of it and which also led
him to fear he knew something about who had
done it.
Then lie asked the astonished Ralph a few
bewildering questions:
Are you a particular friend of Sherman
Bariwood ?"
Why," said Ralph, blushing, he could hardly
have told for what reason, "I am pretty well
acquainted with him."
And you go to his house quite often ? Were
vou there on Tuesday evening last?" Ralph
considered and said that he was. "Did you and
Sherman have some talk about the examination
"Yes, sir."
Ralph knew now that his face was very red
And did you say that you would like to see
the philosophy papers; that you felt shaky
about that study; and that you thought it
would be fair enough to get an idea of what
section they were drawn from chiefly?"
"No, sir," said Ralph eagerly. "I did not
say that; not that last part. I -you see, sir,
he well, we had both been talking about the
examination, and "-
And Ralph went through the story as well as

lii ;1 M TiE 'S iiiLE

he couldd, i' ,111I i_. a c," fro d al, embarrassed
1)b liis v'i.rv ei'ffrt to recall Ili exact. words, i.nl
to m:ike thle lw;tter (eiilirly 1 t)liin to l'rofessor
I l ;("c] d ; c is!' i ;i.s IlIy tihe fect ]nh that,
lie w ;,I not sl(tco'( dilln iTi 1 :ttl been inter-
rupij'ted :it t. rlhe roti'le lrail iissured liiin
that tli:t was all he wisliel to know ; tlat lie
had more clues now tihn lhe needed that it
was his duty to tell alph that some very grave
testimony had been brought against himself, but
that he might rest assured the matter should

that he could understand something of the bit-
terness of that :awful betrayal by his own expeo
rience. Had not i' ..... arwood done
something a little like it to him? Getting his
cDiintionce and then repeating the wordsthiat he
had said carelessly as though they were in c:r-
nest, and even adding to then words of his own
which Ralph had not thought of saying.
Oh! if lie had only taken heed" as his
mother and Mary Jane hinted might be neces-
sary, and not been so vain over this friendship,

' I;-l -:' Is "
.... -- .
fin;~ L

I I t 1
'tt '..i' .' .h I
Y` j ^ i' r '


be sifted to the utmost and the truth discovered he might never have fallen into this terrible
if possible. trouble and disgrace.
Then Ralph had gone home to his mother As it was, it seemed to the poor fellow that
with a choking feeling at his throat and indig- he could not possibly wait for the investigation
nation too great for tears. Do you wonder that which Professor Morehead had promised.
as lie turned the leaves of Grandmother's Bible
he stopped over the marked verse "Betrayest TIIERE is nothing evil but what is within us;
though the Son of man with a kiss!" and felt the rest is either natural or accidental.


(A story in two part

PAIT it.

.E will never be thel
W. innie, '- nor at homne
S_'are robbers. I know th
-- looks. They have got
steal our clothes, and my chaim
with a real diamond in it. TI
we have and then they will k
people will never know what be
"Ohl! don't," said Helen in a
that it was almost a shriek. "

.' -_ ._- .. .


and dreadful, Winnie C('1- 1.
"0 dear! how cold i am. L
We can'the any worse off than n
will keep all our clothes on 1and
each other's arms, and we won
only just watch, and itf we he:
we will jmnp up and yell with
maybe somebody will hear us a
The first part of this plan was
into effect. Shuddering so t
hardly stand they yet contrived


OODS. to the bed. Crawling between the covers that
the woman had turned down and covering their
s.) heads, they gave themselves up to the most
hearty crying they had done for years. Hark!
there were sOutlls of persons moving about in
the room below. The two girls hushed their
re again," said sobs the better to hear and be ready for the
either. These screams they were resolved to give. It was not
iey are by their reasonable to suppose that any one could hear
Sus in here to them away out in the woods save the family of
i and your pin whom they stood in fear, still they meant to
ley will take all try it.
ill us and our "Hlush!" said Helen, in a warning whisper,
came of us." though Winnie was as still as possible. The
whisper so loud moving about had ceased and all was still for a
You are horrid moment. Then the gruff voiceof the dreadful-
looking old man could be distinctly heard
through the wide cracks in the log house.
This was what he said:
"0, Lord here we are again at the
Send of another day, asking for the same
Stings. Thou knowest we are in trouble,
':- .. and that we have tried hard and made a
'failure of it. What we need now is help
to be willing to fail. We've done our
,.. .-. level best and we want to be willing to
", have Thee do just what ought to be done
even if it does seem hard to us. Take
.'. care of us to-night and the young ones
'- who lost their way, and give us strength
"'- to get through to-morrow, for Christ's
sake. Amnc."
r The listeners upstairs were very still.
-The nervous tremblings and sobs had
-- ceased. Presently Winnie whispered:
I'm not a bit afraid, are you?"
D A: *. "Not a speck," said Helen bravely; "I
D UAD. don't think lie's such a very bad-looking
r, to say such old man, do you? And this bed is real clean
if it is hard. I say, Winnie, let's go to sleep."
et us lie down. And they went.
-e are now. We Very early in the morning the baying of the
just lie down in dogs and the shouting of the little girl, to say
't slecp a wink, notlling of the gruff voice of the man and the
ur them coming shrill voice of tlo woman, awakened our two
all our might; travelers. The first thing they did was to look
nd come." at one another and laugh.
s at once carried "Isn't is funny ?" said Helen. "I'm glad
hat they could mamma thinks we are safe at Aunt Hattie's.
to stumble over What a dreadful night they would have had if


they had expected us home. Winnie, what
silly creatures we were to te, so scared last night.
Won't, we la vea stiry to tell when wI e get home?"
Elated witl this, they spraLng ulp "ind set
about m1 :inig their toilets with all speed.
"IIere you ])e as bright as roses," was the
greeting they received from the woman down
stairs. She was frying pork, and the cabin was
full of a greasy, smoky smell.
Want some breakfast, I dare say," she
added, ais the girls stood in doubt as to where
to go or what do do. Well, your pony has
had his and feels all ready for another tramp,
an' Dick, he's waiting to take you to the forks of
the road and put you on the right trail; I reckon
you will know your way from there. Dick is
my boy. He ain't as bright as some boys. He
had a fall when he was a little fellow and hurt
his head. lie was the cutest young one up to
that time tlat you ever see, since that he never
could learn much. But he's good, Dick is, an'
he knows the way to the forks of the road as
well as the next one, and can be depended on.
Now you just set by and get your breakfast.
The rest of us eat a good while ago. You were
so tuckered out last night I thought I'd let
you sleep. I'm sorry we ain't no milk to offer
you, but we have to sell every drop of milk we
have nowdays to make out the bill we owe for
doctoring. Dick was dreadful sick, you know,
and ran up a large bill, and we won't have milk
to pay for it after to-day either."
Whereupon she drew a heavy sigh.
Why not ? ventured Helen. "Aren't you
going to keep your cow?"
I reackon not, Miss. Our cow's got to Lro to
pay another debt. That's what the man says.
You see we lhad sickness for a spell and got
dreadful ilehind. ile's waited a good spell for
his money and he says it's no kind of use wait-
ing any longer, and he'll have to take the cow.
The critter's worth more money than that, but
then, what can poor folks do? The sentence
closed with another sigh.
It's forty dollars we owe, and my man has
scoured the woods to raise it and he can't, so
old Brindle will have to go, an' she's worth
sixty dollars, easy."
The girls looked at one another with almost
bewildered faces and said not a word. It was

the first time it had ever dawned upon their
mind that forty dollars or tle want of it could
make so much trouble. To these children of
rich fathers it seemed a very small s1um indeed.
The crisp fried pork and corn bread were
really not so bad cating, after all, and the girls
ilid tihe mle:l full justice. In less than an hour
afterwad:ts they w-ere driving briskly along the
road. Brownie pricked up his ears and discov-
ered that his driver was in haste and there was
no use in trying to mope. At the forks of the
road Helen dismissed her guide, assuring him
that she knew every step of the way now.
What a story they had to tell. It seemed as
though they would never have done describing
the road and the darkness, the cabin, the dogs,
the torches, the fright, and the breakfast.
"Papa," said Winnie, they are in such
trouble just for the want of forty dollars. Only
think what a little bit of money to make so
much unhappiness.! Papa, can't we help them
in some way? They were so good to us."
"I should think we might," said papa heartily.
I am sure we ought never to forget the poor
man's kindness to our little girl."
By afternoon it was all arranged. The two
fathers had met and talked and planned, and
Helen and Winnie were on the road to the cabin
with a carefully sealed envelope in charge.
This time Job, the coachman, mounted guard
and kept a careful eye to the road. There was
not the slightest danger that Job would lose his
way, and the girls were very willing to have hit
company. Kind as the people in the cabin ha&
been they had no wish to repeat the experiment
of the night before. Great was the astonish-
ment of the woman (and the do s) when tlhe
little pony carriage drove into tlie yard, and
coming out to see what was wanted she saw
the faces of her two guests.
"For pity's sake !" she said. Ain't you two
got home yet? But that ain't the same critter
you had this morning."
No, ma'am," laughed Helen; this is Gray.
0 yes'm we've been home. We just came
to bring you this from our. fathers. They say
it is their 'thank you' for being so kind to us
last night."
"This" was the envelope in which were in-
closed forty dollars in shining gold. PANSY.



NE, two, three, four kitties! Muff is
',;r the old mother cat. -!i. is very big
Sand has a long tail. --. has three
h little kittens. One is white as snow;
her eyes are blue, her paws are soft as
silk, her name is Snowball.
Dash is black as a coal, with little streaks
of white. lls fur is very shiny.
Dot is black and white both. Her face is
white and her paws are white. Her back is
Snowball is a good little puss. She does
not cry or fret. She does not pout when her
mother tells her she cannot go out of doors

any more that
night. She runs
off to her little
bed in the basket
and curls herself
up like a ball and
soon she is sound
asleep. She lets
Baby pull her ears
and tail. She
does not bite or
scratch Bablv.
Dot is a funny
kittie. She runs
round and round .
after her tail.
She never o)t it
yet. She cnteches
flies and she runs
after ( ranililn:i's hall. She junl
of (ir mullp:i's chair and tickle
scm:iipers uand jumps and rolls
as hard as she canl all day long.
Dash is sometimes a naugl
jumps into the flower bed and b
roses. He scratches the bab
meat from the cook. WVhen hli

ps on the back
s his ear. She
overi and plays

ihty kittie. lHe
reaks down the
y. He steals
s mother says :

" Dash, go to bed this minute he runs and
hides behind the door.
When C('lii 1. .. day came, Cook gave
Mother Muff and her kittens a nice dinner.
They had turkey bones and chicken bones with
good meat on them. They had some nice bits
of mince pic, and a big piece of plum .nl.1.,l_.
and some oysters. Ohl! such a dinner. All
the kitties opened their eyes wide when they
saw it.
"Now, children," said Mother Muff, you
must have good manners. You must not begin
to eat until I tell you to. You must not eat
too fast. You must not make a noise with
your lips."
Snowball and Dot waited, and were good



nni r Am TERcim.u

lkilties, but naughty Dash jumped right into
the plate of dinner.
Then Mother Muff said: "Dash, you are a
very had cat! Get out of that plate quick!
You must be punished You must go out be-
hind the woodshed and stay while your sisters
eat their dinners."
So Snowball and Dot and their mother ate


their dinners, but poor Dash hm1g his tail
between his legs and went off crying.
By and by Dash put his head in at the door,
and said: Mew His mother said: If you
can be good now-, you may come and eat your
So Dash came and ate his dinner. He was
a good little cat all the rest of that (day.
Muis. C. 3M. LIVciNGSTON.


(A (..'/''istm, as C'airol.)

G LORkY to God the angels sang,
That starry night so long :go ;
'Mong 1ethll ehemi's hills the echoes rang,
And e'er shall ring God wills it so.

Glory to God! may still be sung,
IMay still be echoed in the heart,
Wherever Christ's true glory reigns,
Where'er love is a welcome part.

With every loving word or thought,
With every deed of kindness done,
New strains are added to the hymn,
And Glory to God! again is sung.

With each submission to God's will,
Whose will is ever best and right,
With each up-yielding of our hearts,
We glorify him in His sight.

'Twas "peace on earth the angels brought,
That starry night so long ago;
The lovely lesson which they taught
Men e'er shall teach God wills it so!

For peace on earth may still be spread:
'Twas Christ's mIost precious gift to men,
And peace must reign from ( '1i i in -, first
Until He come again.

With always peace, and nexer strife,
Along our sometimes weary way,
Each life would be a Christmas life,
Each day a Christmas day.

SGood-will toward men the angels sang,
That starry night so long ago;
The message whicli they brought, so sweet,
Shall e'er be spread God wills it so.

" Good-will toward men o'er all the earth
I -li still be our sweet Christmas song, -
The strains, re-echoed in our hearts,
Be sung the whole year long.

" Good-will! good-will! they sweetly chime:
Toward men the chorus sweet;
Their tones, if followed on with care,
Will lead to Jesus' feet.

So this, our C(1,,i -i, ,.. carol song,
So old, yet ever new,
First sung by angel choruses, -
Now sung by living true,-

We take, to lead us on through life,
In discord, melody, and rest,
Until we join the angel-choir,
Where we may sing the best.

" Glory to God !" which angels sang,
That starry night so long ago,
With Peace on earth, good-will toward
men "
Shall e'er be sung God wills it so!

The three-thought song the shepherds heard
We hear from Christ, in heaven above,
And o'er the earth we'll send the word
Of peace and joy and love.

The glorious Star the Wise Men saw,
That led from East t, Bethlehem,
Shall lead us to Messiah's feet,
With all the brightness it gave them.

The gifts they brought the Christ new-born
Were gold and frankincense and myrrh:
We offer loving hearts, and true,
From every (in i- ii.. worshiper.

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