Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Our new friends
 Back Cover

Group Title: Cheery chat series
Title: Our new friends
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00085538/00001
 Material Information
Title: Our new friends for boys and girls
Series Title: Cheery chat series
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 26 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Hassam, Childe, 1859-1935 ( Illustrator )
Edwards, Mary Ellen, 1839-ca. 1910 ( Illustrator )
Street, Kate, fl. 1880-1902 ( Illustrator )
Taylor, William Ladd, 1854-1926 ( Illustrator )
Plympton, A. G ( Almira George ), b. 1852 ( Illustrator )
Weir, Harrison, 1824-1906 ( Illustrator )
Lothrop Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: Lothrop Publishing Company
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: c1896
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1896   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1896   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1896
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Summary: A miscellany of poems, stories, anecdotes and illustrations.
Statement of Responsibility: illustrated.
General Note: Illustrations signed by Childe Hassam, MEE, K. Street, W.L. Taylor, A. G. Plympton, and Harrison Weir.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00085538
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002224418
notis - ALG4682
oclc - 234236942

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Front Matter
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Title Page
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Our new friends
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
    Back Cover
        Page 165
        Page 166
Full Text


r : "

. ": -1-
!* L:*' '

The Baldwin Library
J 1n of
* ^ ^^U 1 11111___, 1



9 4. .. .. 5

.. 4 .
ii-. iJ- -




wx--r ww

/4- \


'S -' r .-. .:i.

:i c iii
Li I~

2.';; '; ;'i~:

talt I.


I -



pb -





i -

4-..' ~. ;~ i ~*'.,
-". ;'; TU
-"~ibt- ..-1~ .... .~4flF-

*Vt, 3~YV~f~~













* f***-** -k-.

Copyright, 1896,


All rights reserved.




CTOBER 11, 1492, there came to this
country the first missionary. See that
picture of this remarkable man and his
companions, when they landed at San
Salvador, on their knees thanking God for
bringing them safely over the dreadful ocean
to this new and wonderful America.- He did
not come to preach the Gospel just exactly as

Now you should read a good history of this
man and of Spain, and her king and queen -
Ferdinand and Isabella who helped Columbus
when he wanted to go on his voyage of discov-
ery, and needed ships and men and money-
as missionaries do nowadays--and everybody
called him a mad man, as missionaries like Bishop
Taylor, now in Africa, are often called, and no-
body would aid him. Yes; you must learn all
about this nation and her rulers, and about


missionaries now go to Tndia or Africa to do
it. He was a sort of John the Baptist, going
on before to prepare the way.
You-will now hear much of this missionary,
discoverer and grand man, for it is four hundred
years ago since he undertook his great work,
and this discovery is to be celebrated in a mag-
nificent way, especially in Chicago. So it is
none too soon to begin to think about it.

ships and navigation at that time--four hun-
dred years ago. Then it would do you good
to step upon one of the rent Cunarders, and
try to compare it with Columbus's.ship.
A good history of Snain is,.Arthur Gilman's.
Another excellent historv is Prescott's.
Don't let nnothpr rlay no bhv without begin-
ning to think and read and talk about Columbus.
C. M. L.



6-UT on your thinking or reading cap,
(t"'il| and see if you can guess who he was.
SHe was one of the very first foreign
Missionaries. He didn't have to go
more than two hundred miles to get
there. Nor did he have to sail. He did not
go of his own accord. He was not ordained,
as missionaries are nowadays. He was not
married when he started. Afterward he mar-
ried one of the natives. She was a high-caste
lady. Her name began with A. He had two
sons. Their names began with M. and E.
Within an hour he was the poorest man in
the country and the richest, the greatest slave
and the greatest freeman, the feeblest and the
strongest, a great criminal, a greater judge, the
tenderest, and yet to some the most terrible
of men. No'man in all that region could see
so far down into the future as could this
One of the strangest things about it all was,
he never went back home as missionaries
nowadays do every ten years-but his home-
his father and old friends and neighbors-came
to him to hear him preach and dine with him
and buy wheat of him and receive great favors.
Indeed, many of them just broke up house-
keeping and went where he lived and settled
near him.
If it hadn't been for him, it looks as though
the whole world would have starved to death.
How much often depends upon one man or
woman or child.
How much may this day hang upon what
you say or say not!
So it was with this strange missionary. How
little the society that sent him out thought
what would come of it all! Truth to tell, they
did not like him overmuch, and sent him on a
mission to get rid of him. It was so strange;
in a few years every member of that society
paid him a visit, several, indeed, and the last
one lasted years and years and years.
And all this happened years and years ago,
and miles and miles and miles away.
Suppose now you read this puzzle over three
times to grandma, and, then with a wise look
say, "I know. It was -- ." C. M. L.


A GENTLEMAN .who has traveled in
Africa says that one Sunday at the dia-
mond mines he counted over three hundred-
natives, all drunk. A funeral occasion there,
it is said, is something horrible, for hundreds
of dollars are often spent for rum for the cele-
bration. So this missionary work is going on
all the while with that of the churches, for all
this intoxicating liquor comes from so-called
"Christian," countries, and a very large amount
of it from our own. Look on the map and find
little Sierra Leone, and think that into that
country alone were shipped last year about two
hundred million gallons, or much over a billion
drinks, which is a very much larger number
than could be counted in a year, working twelve
hours a day. Every ship that carries mission-
aries, carries liquor enough to counteract the
work of a thousand missionaries.

I OW should you like to go to Samoa and
be treated to a drink of kava? You
don't know what that is?
Why, it is a root that belongs to the pepper
family of plants, and when properly prepared,
makes a drink of which the Samoans are very
fond, and which they are sure to offer to their
guests. Perhaps you would like to know how
it is made ? The belle of the village is always
chosen to prepare it. The first thing she does,
is to carefully wash out her mouth! Then she
fills it with bits of root, and chews and chews;
by and by she removes the mass from her
mouth, places it in a great wooden bowl at her
side, fills her mouth again and chews. When
enough'of the root has been made into pulp by
this human machine, water is poured on it, and
the young lady, having first washed her hands
carefully, dives them into the bowl and mixes
pulp and water vigorously; then, when strained,
it is ready to drink. If you care to hear more
about these curious people and their ways, get
the Century for May, which has a long article,
and many pictures describing them.

IN Tokio it is estimated that there are 500
persons added to Christianity every month.





IN every Mohammedan country it is more
fun to be a boy than to be a girl. When
a boy is born everybody rejoices; when a girl
is born everybody is disappointed, even dis-
gusted. The father pets and fondles his son;
he will inot speak of his daughter. If he is
compelled to mention his having a daughter he
begs your pardon for introducing the subject.
As the boy grows up he is sent to school.
He learns to read and write, and studies the
Koran--the Arab's Bible--and is taught the
duties of his religion. Not many years ago a
Mohammedan said to Dr. Jessup of Beirut,
when the missionary suggested that his daugh-
ter should be sent to school, "Educate a girl!
Cou might as well educate a cat!
The difference between the treatment of a
boy and girl is continued until the boy is pre-
pared to take his place as a man among men
and the girl becomes the slave of some man.
In Beirut and other places where the Gospel
of Christ is getting hold of the hearts and
minds of this people a change is coming; girls
are being educated.
REV. J. H. DULLER, in Forward.


ONE of our boys told us in the children's
meeting how he had been tempted. He
went to the ranch to visit his parents. Just as
he entered the house he saw his step-father
pushing the bottles of liquor under the bed.
The next week he went again and found them
drinking. They tried to persuade him to taste
the whiskey, offering him a dollar if he would;
finally they offered him three dollars if he
would but taste. But he said he would not
touch it if they would give him three hundred
dollars; that he had taken a pledge never
to taste it, and that he would stand true to his
promise; he would not lie for any one.
MRa. AusTIn (of Alaska) in the Interior.

THE Sultan has given authority, to construct,
and to maintain for seventy-one years a railway
from Jaffa to Jerusalem.



HE Judge was a goat, the property, if
SIthe term may be applied to so intelli-
gent an animal, of Ralph Seymour and
his brother Phil. He was a goat whose
grave and reverend demeanor had won
him his name. The truth is, he bore a slight
resemblance to the genuine judge who at stated
intervals dealt justice in the same town with
'his namesake.
The Judge (meaning my hero) had 'a remark-
able appetite, which covered a very wide range
of objects. He was not particular whether he
was eating grass, straw or newspapers, or even
articles of wearing apparel, as some of his
fellow towns-people discovered to their sorrow.
His only occupations were eating and deliber-
ating, and as the latter process did not neces-
sarily interrupt the former, they were usually
carried on simultaneously. Tom Smith said
he had seen the Judge eat a flat-iron with a
leather strip tied to it, but the Judge and I
both agree that Tom Smith's testimony is not
At the time when my story begins there
were two missionaries in town. One was a
real, genuine missionary--from a place with a
dreadful name off in Hindoostan--who was
trying to raise money to buy the little Hindoo-
stanee children little Hindoostanee books. He
had spoken in all the Sunday-schools, and the
boys and girls, Ralph and Phil Seymour among
them, were very much interested in raising
money to help this missionary.
The other missionary was just as genuine,'
only he didn't call himself one. Nobody called
him one. They called him a book-agent. He
didn't speak in the Sunday-schools; he didn't
even go around bothering the Sunday-school
children's fathers and mothers. He sold the
stores a great many books, and the stores sold
them to the people. There were Detective
Stories, with very cheap covers, and delightful
pictures of big men with pistols. There were
"Lord Lynne's Choice," and "A Fatal Secret,"
and "The Terrible Temptation." There were
beautiful story papers,. called the "Firelight


Companion." And all these things were so
cheap and interesting, that the people in town,
and especially the boys and girls in town, read
a great many of them.
Ralph and Phil Seymour's papa and mamma
did not believe in these books, and taught their
children to believe that they were doing a


great deal of harm. And it was in this way,
strangely enough, that Ralph and Phil came
to think of a way for raising some money for
Mr. Bradley, the first missionary. I don't
know whether it was the Judge who inspired
them with the thought, or not, as he medita-
tively chewed a Tribune which had floated out
to the fence-corner. It was Ralph who sug-
gested it, and Phil thought it was a very nice
plan indeed.
"Let's go and get him," .said Phil. He
meant the Judge.
All right," said Ralph.
"He must be at the Wailing Place," said
And there they found him, smacking his lips
over the last corner of a "Firelight Companion."

The Judge, like some wiser sages, I fear, was
not to be relied upon in a taste for literature.
The Wailing Place was the rear of Mr.
Smith's barn, which was very high, and had
no expression on its face at all. Here the
Judge, with some other goats in town all
very much less respectable than he used
sometimes to congregate, with their heads to
the wall, and such a mournful expression on
their faces, that Ralph had once declared they
looked exactly like the Jews at the Wailing
Place in Jerusalem! After that the spot came
to be called the Wailing Place, and there the
Judge was pretty sure to be, when he had so
far forgotten his superior education and station
as to wander far away from the Seymour place.
Ralph and Phil brought him home, and hav-
ing thought a little longer, went in to tell the
plan to Papa Seymour, who helped them and
improved it, as he always did.
Thus it came to pass that the next week
there was posted in the Square (sometimes
called the Green, probably because it was
neither square nor green) the following an-




For the Benefit of 1ir. Bradley's Missionary Fund,
Under the auspices of the Judge.



LIZABETH was in the garden explain.
Sing something to the boys with a
Troubled air. Henry was listening
gravely, and Raynor with an amused
smile on his face.
Come here," he said, beckoning to his
mother and aunt, who were coming slowly
down the lawn. "Come and listen to Eliza.
beth going into high tragedy over the dleuravity
of the human race."


What is it, Elizabeth ?" Mrs. Chapin asked,
as she paused by the young girl's chair.
Elizabeth turned toward her.
"Why, mamma, it is those seeds, you know,
which I bought and started for the class. Be-
fore I went away last
spring I explained to
them that the plants
were bought with my
missionary money, and
therefore did not be-
long to me, but were .
the Lord's. I was very
solemn and careful -
about the explanation,
and they seemed to un-
derstand. They were to
raise flowers to sell at
the hotels so that they
might have money to
put in the home and
foreign mission boxes;
you know the little
things never have any-
thing to give. I told
them if they took care
of the plants and
watered them, that the
flowers would be their
gift to the Lord. That
is, that they would
honestly earn the money
for him, and he would
accept it as their gift.
Well, that little Ellen
Shuler seems to have been th:- in,- -Ii..,.-fii
of them all; her plant has re ,iiv ~.1...-. ..i. i ;
it has grown into almost a ti .<-. lhi i.i- l.'i.
any number of blossoms from it, n'ii.. ,, \. i!
so large and perfect that tll., i..i:.ir t ..:..
prices; now what has the childl l...ni,- i. Ir n -*.i, t
every penny on herself, bu.ii._ sh-l... ;a..l .
bonnet, and I don't know vwib. I c.lin't -,.lln
to make her feel that shE Lh.-, i..:! .1.:.LIr
wrong, yet it is just the same as stealing, you
know, and I'm discouraged."
Raynor laughed, though his mother and aunt
looked sober enough, and Mrs. Chapin said,-
"Poor little ignorant thing! One cannot
but be sorry for her. I suppose she was really

in need of shoes, and bonnet, and such things."
"0, yes, mamma! They are poor enough,
but that doesn't alter the fact that she has
taken.what did not in the least belong to her.
It is so discouraging to teach and teach, and

~ =-~_--~----~-~_~_;~-_-~;~-~.;i-~-~-~ -
~~~ ;;;--I

o _-I.~L1~ ~~~;Ejl

I'Y 'i
'r. ";
i 'I ~s



find that you have accomplished no more than
that. Why, Auntie, I've had that child in my
class for nearly two years, and see how well
I've succeeded in training her."

t~".l \:~-~z


"It is a distressing proof of the depravity
of the human heart, just as I said," declared
Raynor. "Who would suppose that in the
breast of little children would lurk such wick-
There was an air of gay mockery in his tone,
and Elizabeth turned toward him in grave
"Raynor, what makes you treat it in this
way? Don't you really think that the child
has been guilty of dishonesty?"
"Why, of course," he said, still laughing,
"she is the most thieving of mortals; but then,
I don't know that we ought to be surprised or
disappointed, in a sense; think how the child
has been brought up, and what is the probable
standard of her father in regard to all questions
of honesty. You couldn't expect to undo in
two years the tendencies that were born with
her, and the teachings of a life-time. I'm not
surprised in the least."
"We can hardly realize what a temptation
it must have been to the child," said Mrs.
Chapin gently. "Think how little she sees of
money, and what a trial it must be to her not
to be dressed like other children whom she
sees; and how little she really knows or cares
about missions or benevolence. I think as
Raynor says, you ought not to be surprised."
"Well, but, mamma, she stoutly declares that
she has done nothing wrong; that I gave her
the plant for her own, and told her what she
earned would be her very own, and that she
had a right to do what she liked with it after
that; and she brought me a miserable little
penny which she said she had saved to give to
the missionary, box."
Elizabeth could not keep from smiling at the
thought, though the tears were very near the
surface. As for Raynor, he shouted.
She's willing to divide the spoils, is she?"
he said, between the bursts of laughter. Come,
now, I think that's encouraging. Cheer up,
Elizabeth, you will make a saint of the little
Shuler girl yet."
Then Henry, who had not spoken since his
mother joined them, and whose face was grave,
even sorrowful, said slowly, -
Surely, Elizabeth, though you may be sad
about this, you cannot be surprised. Is there

so much honesty with the Lord's possessions in
these days that any personal appropriation
should astonish us?"
Why," said Elizabeth, hesitating, "there is
a great deal of selfishness, it is true, but people
don't as a rule deliberately take that which
belongs to God to use on themselves. Do
they ?"
"It seems to me they are doing it all the
time, everywhere; don't you think so, mamma?
Doing it with things which are much more im-
portant than. money; and it is not confined to
those who, like poor little Ellen Shuler, have
had no teaching, but is found in homes where
the highest idea of honesty might be expected."
"When it comes to that," said Raynor, with
more gravity than he had used before, "I think
you are too sweeping altogether. The world
is far from perfect, but most of us can with
justice lay claim to common honesty, I think.
We don't deliberately use what doesn't belong
to us. I've a case in point myself" with a
little good-humored laugh- "Uncle Horace
sent me a gold piece at Christmas, you know,
half to be used as I liked, and half for benevo-
lence; now, though I've been bankrupt for two
weeks and have cast longing looks at the box
where the half of that gold piece reposes wait-
ing for an especially interesting object on which
to bestow it, I declare to you that no thought
of spending it on myself has been entertained
for a moment. If I'm so virtuous, my good
brother, may you not hope to find honesty more
general than you seem to suppose? By the
way, I believe I'll spend that money on the
little Shuler Pharisee. I'm getting interested
in my fellow sinner."
"I was not thinking of money," said Henry,
in a grave voice. 'Ye are not your own, ye
are bought with a price.' I was thinking of
that verse, Raynor, and of valuable lives which
ought to be spent in His service, being used in
other ways. What, after all, is one poor little
plant in Ellen Shuler's window, the only one
ever given to her, beside our entire garden
given to us to cultivate on purpose to raise
flowers and fruit for Christ? And we raise
lovely flowers of character, and give promise
of good fruit, which we are bent on using for
our own delight, without a thought of the



directions. Isn't that so, Raynor?" and he
laid his hand tenderly on his young brother's
"There's no need for your entering the theo-
logical seminary," said Raynor, with an attempt
at another laugh, "you can preach now, and
make a text out of poor little Ellen Shuler and
me. So she and I are on a level, after all, as
regards honesty. I didn't think it, but perhaps
it is so. Elizabeth, you take Ellen in hand,
and Henry will take me, and between you see
what you can accomplish."
Then, as he was about to move away, he laid
his hand on Henry's arm, adding gravely, "I'll
say this for your argument, my boy, I wish
with all my heart I was half as honest and
good as you are." PANSY.


MISSIONARY ARNOT of Africa, speak-
ing of a band of slaves, says:- Among
them were two girls, Mwepo and Dulanga, fast
friends, but the rough hands of Msidi's soldiers
now separated them. Three years after I was
talking with Msidi, when some slaves were
brought in. The youngest was a girl of nine,
suffering from ulcers on her feet.
Msidi gave away the healthy ones, and then
asked if I could do anything with this one. I
took her to my cottage and nursed her till -she
I happened again to be sitting beside Msidi,
breakfasting with him. A little girl entered
and threw herself at his feet, and did obeisance
by rubbing dust on her forehead and arms.
She had run away from her mistress because of
a severe beating. She had traveled all night,
six or eight miles. Some of Msidi's breakfast
lay by me, which I handed in pity to the poor
thing. In a short time I left.. Looking back
I saw the child following me, Msidi saying if
she was afraid of beating, she would better
follow the white man.
So on she came with me to my cottage. I
handed her over to the care of the other little
girl, Mwepo, when, to my astonishment, they
Rew into each other's arms, embracing one
another and weeping. The two Luba free-born

children had met again, in my cottage, after
each had passed through her own three years
of unmixed sorrow and hardship. It was days
before I could do anything with them, so con-
tinually did they hang round each other's neck."


W/HEN I was seven years old I first went
to a public school. Brother wanted to
go to Tokio to school. Father would not per-
mit him. My brother was very sorry, and
asked him over and over again. At last they
quarreled about it, but he did not go. So he
waited God's time. The next year father died;
then he asked mother to go to Tokio. So the
next year he went there and entered the semi.
nary. While he was there he sent Christian
books to mother. One summer when he came
home on his vacation she went to church.
When she heard the preaching she felt she was
a great sinner. The next year she became a
Christian. I also went to church with her.
The next year I was baptized. From that
time I went to church every Sunday and heard
,preaching, and was taught at Sunday-school,
and was very happy, but there was one sorrow
for me. After I became a Christian, I was
teased by the boys at school. They threw
stones at me or struck me. The teacher also
teased me, saying, "Jesus, Jesus." At first I
was sad and cried, but my mother said I must
not be angry about such things; Jesus was teased
sneered at, crucified and killed by his enemies.
SADA HAYASHI, in The Interior.

T HERE has recently died, in the South Se*
Islands, Queen Pomare, of Tahiti and
Moarea, seventy years old. Let us see how
much work may be done in a lifetime. When
she was born there was not a native Christian in
that region. When she died, more than three
hundred islands had been entirely Christianized.
Over in Madagascar, twenty-five years ago, tho
missionaries had seven little schools, with less
than four hundred scholars. Three years agt
they reported more than a thousand schools
and nearly three hundred thoasard s9hriars.





IN the snow the lights are gleaming,
From above the stars are beaming
Through the cold;
And the year sighs in the blowing,
And weeps softly in the snowing;
He is old.

Merry music now is speeding,
Now advancing, now receding,
Through the air,-
And a sound of Christmas pleasure
Fills each joyful, thoughtful measure-
Half a prayer.

And the youth and brown-eyed maiden
With their gifts of gladness laden,
Soft and slow
Tell the wondrous, ancient story
Of the first great Christmas glory,
Long ago!

For o'er mountain, mist and meadows,
Through the centuries' gold-lined shadows,
Shines the Star!
Through the sighing and the sobbing
Comes the music's joyous throbbing
From afar.

And the angels seem a-whispering,
'Mid the stars' pale, silvery glistening,
In the frost,
Of the good-will and the glory
Coming down from dead years hoary--
Heavenly host!

Is there wonder that all nations,
From their wide-set signal stations
All along
The great track of pain and sadness,
Catch a glimpse of breaking gladness,
Raise their song, 2

On this night when vows were plighted
'Twixt the heavens and earth, united
By one Love,
And the skies, with joy o'erflowing,
Sent their clear-toned heralds glowing,
From above?

As around the earth doth hover,
And its stains lightly o'ercover,
The fair snow,
With its purity and beauty
(The frost-angels' happy duty),
Even so

Let the good news of the morrow,
Cover o'er the old-time sorrow
Near and far!
Let the clouds break into lightness!
Let our lives shine with the brightness
SOf the Star!

Let the bells be set a-chiming,
As, the sunrise steeps up-climbing,
Breaks the day!
For the Saviour of the sages
Is the Saviour of the ages,
And always!


A LITTLE girl of nine summers came to
ask her pastor about joining the church.
The pastor said, -
"Nellie, does your father think you are a
Christian ?"
Yes, sir."
"Have you told him?"
"No, sir."
"How, then, does he know?"
"He sees."
"How does he see that?"
Sees that I am a better girl."
"What else does he see ?"
"Sees I love to read my Bible and love to
"Then you think he sees you are a Christian,
do you?"
"I know he does; he can't help it," was
Nellie's quick reply. And with a modest,
happy boldness she was sure her father knew
she was a Christian because he could not help
seeing it in her life.
Is not such the privilege of God's people
to be sure that others see they are following
Christ ? Selected.

I 1,'m.-,(^ I"

S.'" r .




T began years ago when he was three
years old. Oh! I don't mean that, of
course; in point of fact his education
really began nearly three years before
that time; but I mean he was three
years old on the Christmas morning of which .I
am about to tell you. And he looked very

content, until with shouts of glee he was pro-
nounced ready for his ride.
"Not in that rig!" Yes, in exactly that
rig dolls and shovels, and clocks, and drums,
and books, and balls, and every conceivable
thing stuffed into his pockets, into his hat,
hung on his buttons, wound about his neck,
pinned to his sash; everywhere that toys .and
handkerchiefs, and books and boxes and all


much like the piclare I have given you. They
had buttoned his father's coat about him over
his own little cloth sack, stuffed out Uncle
Dick's hat with handkerchiefs and mufflers
until it would stay on the child's curly head,
and then trimmed him up to their hearts'

the rest could be put, you may be sure they
were put.
Besides all this, in one hand he held the
reins attached to a fierce-looking team piled
high with toys, and flourished a riding-whip in
the other to use, on occasion, over the heads


of a still wilder-looking "rig" at his right.
It was some trouble to get this remarkable
human bundle bundled into the sleigh at the
door, and the real horses attached to it tossed
their heads and pawed the snow somewhat
doubtfully, over all the noise that was made
during the packing, but at last they were off -
Papa, Auntie Dell, Laurie and Rossie. Christ-
mas morning calls such was their business.
They drove down one of the main avenues
"Just for fun," Laurie said, then turned down
a back street and began stopping almost at
every house. Sometimes the people who lived
in the houses came to the sidewalk to receive
their call, and sometimes the odd little .bundle
was lifted out and went inside. Wherever
there was a sick person, or an old person, or
one too lame, or too young to come to the
sleigh, Rossie was carried in to see them; and
at every home he left some of his load -a ball
and doll, or a cup and knife at this one, a hand-
kerchief and a muffler, and a toy sled and a
bag of candies at that, and sometimes from the
large basket piled in behind a pie, or a chicken,
or some delicacy of that sort; at one place a
fat little turkey all ready to cook was left by
the red-cheeked baby in whose name all the
gifts were marked. That was for Auntie Per-
kins, who lived alone and had the rheumatism;
she had a good, hard-working son, who with
his wife and three children always tried to get
away from the big house where the father
and mother worked, to spend Christmas with
mother." Rossie on these occasions always
furnished the turkey at least this was the
third time he had done it.
SWell, it was a grand frolic. No one enjoyed
it better than the baby, who understood only a
part of what was going on. I don't know how
early in life he began to remember scenes like
these, but I know he considers them as much a
part of Christmas as the snow is, and he has
never yet seen a Christmas without snow on
the ground.
SAs I told you, this one which the picture
describes took place a good while ago. Rossie
is fourteen now, and is called by his friends
"Roswell," and by his professors in school
" Chester," and he writes his name "Roswell
B. Chester, Jr.," with many a handsome flourish

thereto, but a Christmas frolic of some sort,
modeled after this one, he always contrives to
have. He is not given quite as much help
about it in these days as when he was younger.
Much of the planning he has to do for himself,
as well as some of the sacrificing with a view
to carrying out his plans.
His father is a rich man, but a wise one, and
Roswell has his allowance, as well as a certain
income which he earns; but he also has many
wants, and it requires planning and sacrificing
to have his Christmas "frolic." But on the
whole he succeeds very well.
It is not Christmas yet, it is true, and Roswell
B. Chester's plans are still an immense secret
from certain of his friends; but as I am sure
you will never tell until after the secret is out,
I mean to share it with you.
Auntie Perkins still lives in the little house
where she did when the fat turkey was carried
to her, but the good son is gone, and two of
the children, and the daughter-in-law with her
one boy, lives with Auntie Perkins. The boy
is sick. Something is the matter with his spine
which the doctors fear cannot be cured, and
poor Joe, only thirteen years old, has to lie all
the days and nights in a certain position, and
suffer at times a good deal of pain. "The
nights are bad enough," he said one day to
Roswell, "but the days are worse. I do get
so tired! If I could only write, or make fig-
ures, it would be such a help; you know I was
fond of writing, and lots of queer things go
slipping through my mind that I'd like to put
on paper if I could, just for the fun of it;
sometimes I think they might come to more
than fun, some day. Then, if I could figure, I
could go on with my arithmetic, and I was
good at that, you know, but I can't." The
sentence ended with a weary sigh.
"Why can't you?" asked Roswell, deeply
interested. What if Jo should write books
and be a great author, and earn ever so much
money! He had heard of such things.
Why," said Jo, with a queer little attempt
at a laugh, "I can't move myself the least bit,
and I can't somehow twist my hand around to
make the quirls to the letters -I never knew,
before I was hurt, that it took so much twist-
ing to make letters. I hurt myself trying to


write the other day, and the doctor said I
mustn't do it again. I don't suppose I should
care to, either, for I couldn't make the letters
plain enough for me to tell myself what they
were an hour afterwards." And again Jo tried
to smile. Roswell went away very thoughtful.
That was some time in August, but his
Christmas plans were already being considered.
Out of this talk grew so large a plan that it
needed much considering, and indeed it looked
to the resolute boy for quite a while as though
the thing was really too large for him to. do
alone, but he has done it. .He doesn't think I
know how many things he has gone without in
order to accomplish it, and I'll never tell, only
this: on Christmas morning by nine o'clock, I
know there will stand on a neat little frame
contrived expressly for it, and fitting like a
footstool into Jo's bed, a Century Type-writer,
weighing only three pounds, easily lifted from
bed to chair, or table, or floor, and with the
raised plate at such an angle that Jo's eyes qan
see all the letters and figures, and with so
ingenious a contrivance for making the "twists"
in the letters that Jo need have no further fear
about not being able to read his work, for it
will be in print.
Isn't that an outgrowth of "Christmas
frolics" worth telling? To be sure the ma-
chine, which stands at this moment on one
corner of Roswell's study table, has cost him
thirty dollars, and the Kodac camera on which
he had supposed he had set his heart must
retire into the background for another year;
but he looks at the neat little maple case which
incloses the machine always with, a smile, and
I know that on Christmas morning, 1889, there
will be two happy boys, namely: Joseph Per-
kins, and Roswell B. Chester, Jr. PANSY.

T HE inventor of a safety elevator invited
several to witness a test of his invention.
Three men got on the elevator, and it was con-
fidently expected that when the elevator was
cut loose it would easily and safely descend a
distance of some sixty-five feet, owing to cer-
tain safety appliances. Instead, however, when
it was cut loose, it.descended with awful ve-
locity, and when the door was opened the three

men were found lying on the bottom of the car
insensible, and frightfully bruised and mangled.
There is a similar danger in spiritual things.
Many, trusting in some brilliant theory or false
reasoning, have gone down to death, in spite
of all their confidence in their system. There
is only one thing that has stood the test of the
centuries, and trusting in it not one has ever
been disappointed, and that is the simple
religion of the Lord Jesus Christ. The


'VE something beautiful to tell-
SPerhaps you all have heard;
But if you have I'll tell it,
I'll add one happy word.
'Tis all about the royal tens
Fast mustering in the land;
For sweet and loving service,
Each ten a joyous band.

Each unit wears a silver cross.
To show it is a part,
Stamped with the kingly "I. H. N."
Above each loyal heart,
Held by a purple ribbon -
Purple, the royal hue-
And royal is the labor
These workers find to do.

They are the King's own daughters,
And each one "lends a hand"
To help in every lovely way
The helpless of the land.
Some do grand work and noble,
Some wait on little needs.
There's always for the weakest one
Some little loving deeds.

They work as worked their Sovereign
To bring upon the earth
The reign of love and blessing
Begun at Jesus' birth.
Come, then, ye little maidens,
Your loving service bring;
Come all and join the royal tens,
Ye daughters of the King.

-1 -A


I~_ _

-i~ J




APTAIN is a big black dog with a
s shaggy coat. He is very wise. He
knows almost as much as some men.
His name for short is Cap.
Cap's master lives a mile from town. On
Sunday he takes his family to church.
Cap likes to go to church too. He likes it
best in winter, because there is no dus*, and
there is a soft white cover on the ground.
After breakfast the big sleigh dashes up to
the door. All the children get in and cuddle


down in the warm robes. Then the horses
prance off; the bells jingle, and Cap trots
along behind, a very happy dog.
Cap used to follow the family into church
and lie down at his master's feet. Sometimes
he fell asleep Cap, not his master and he
snored so loud everybody heard him. It made
Bobby laugh right out.
After that his master said he must be left at
home on Sundays. So they tried to slip off

while Cap lay by the fire and not let him know.
But they could not cheat Cap. He always
came scampering after them as hard as he
could run, and looked up at them with his big
brown eyes as if to say, "Why did you go off
and leave me ?"
One night his master said, "To-morrow Cap
must be shut up. He must not go to church
any more."
So in the morning Bobby and his father took
Cap out to the barn. Then they went out
quick and shut the door.
Poor Cap had a long, lonely day. He
scratched on the door and cried, but nobody
heard him. The church-bells were ringing and
the sun was shining -it shone through a knot-
hole in the barn-he wanted to go to church
so much! But he had to give it up. Poor Cap!
Next Sunday morning after breakfast they
went to get Cap to shut him up again, but
doggie was not to be found. They looked up-
stairs and downstairs, and outdoors and every-
where, but no Cap. So they started for
When they had got almost there, what did
they see but Cap sitting in a corner of a fence
waiting for them!
He was glad to see them. He jumped up
and wagged his tail and trotted after the sleigh.
Cap was a wise old fellow. After that he
seemed to know when Sunday came. When
the nine o'clock bell rang Cap was up and off.
Sometimes he would get to church first, and
when they came, there he would sit in a corner
of the pew. Even Bobby's father could not
help laughing then.
But Cap snored so badly one Sunday that.
his master had to put him out right in the
midst of the sermon. Cap went out with his
head down and his tail down, very much
After meeting his master told the minister
how much Cap loved to go to church.


The minister said, "Poor old fellow, let him
come, I will find a place for him."
So the next Sunday the minister took Cap
up into his nice warm study and let him lie by
the fire and sleep while the folks were in
And now Cap is a very happy dog once
more. He goes to church every Sunday when
the others go, and does not have to run away.


'T was on a Sunday afternoon just a
S year ago that Ada sat all alone in her
room, book in hand, but looking into
space. She had been studying her
Sunday-school lesson, and had been interested
in it, but something troubled her.
The door opened quietly, and Edgar came
in. Edgar was nearly always quiet in his
movements, so different from Ada.
But then, he is a grown-up man," Ada used
to say, "and I am only a little girl."
The fact was, that Edgar was not yet nine-
teen, but he seemed grown-up" to his little
Had a happy time ?" he asked cheerfully.
That was another thing about Edgar, he was
nearly always cheerful.
"Why yes," Ada said, drawing the words
out in the way we do when, after all, we feel a
little uncertain about the answer we are mak-
ing. Only, Edgar" -
"Yes; that is my name."
"I wish I had a very new way of reading
the Bible."
"A very new way what do you want of
that? Have you used up the old way ?"
"Not used it up, but then, I'm sort of tired
of it. I don't mean that, either; I mean that
it doesn't seem to help me as much as it might
- I forget, you see; I like a verse very much,
and have a nice pleasant thought about it, and
think I'll keep it always to belong to that
verse, but I don't. The next time I read the
verse, or the story, I try to think what it was,

and I can't. All I remember is, that once when
I read this before there was something nice in
it, which won't come back to me."
"I understand. How would it do to write a
neat little word, now and then, on the margin
of your Bible? Something that students call
'catch words,' with which to refresh your
memory ?"
"Aunt Laura won't let me do that. She
says it makes a Bible look badly, all marked up


with pencil, and that it would look dreadful in
my Bible, because I am such a poor writer. I
do write badly," added Ada humbly.
Edgar privately thought that when he had
the management of a little girl she should mark
her Bible as much as she pleased, provided she
did it intelligently, and as well as she could.


But he had too much sense to criticise Aunt
Laura, who stood in place of mother to this
little sister.
That's the trouble, is it?" he said cheerily.
"Well, you must hurry and grow up, and learn
to write beautifully, because 'grown-up Bibles'
look better marked than they do left blank.
Meantime, let us see if we cannot think of a
plan to help us. You know I go away to-
0, yes!" said Ada quickly, "I know that,"
and she drew a long, long sigh.
"Well, suppose during the year that I am
away you and I read over the Sabbath-school
lesson once every day, and write on a slip of
paper one thought which we have found, some-
thing to comfort us, or warn us, or in some
way help us? We will each have a little box
to keep them in--I will furnish them -just
alike for you and me; each shall have a tiny
key which we will wear. I'll put mine on my
watch chain, and yours can be fastened on a
ribbon and tucked out of sight around your
neck if you choose. We will call them our
treasure-boxes, and none but us shall see the
inside of them. On Monday of each week we
will mail their contents to each other. Then,
on the following Sunday you will have my
thoughts, and I will have yours, and we will
read them over and enjoy them; then we will
each kneel down and ask God to help us through
the week to live by them. Then next New
Year's day I hope to be at home again, you
know, and on Sunday I will bring my treasure
box to this room filled with your helpful
thoughts, and you shall bring yours here filled
with mine, and we will dip into them and enjoy
them together. Will not that be a help?"
"A lovely help," said Ada, and she smiled
more cheerfully than she had been able to
since she had known that Edgar was going out
West to his uncle's for a "whole year."
So now you know how Ada filled her treas-
ure box for .the year 1889. It has almost
closed, with her. "Next Sunday," she says to
herself gleefully, as she sits alone on the last
Sabbath of the old year, and she turns the
pretty little key and peeps into the beloved
" treasure box," well. filled now with small
cards, each having a thought printed on it ,a

Edgar's round, plain hand. How many treas-
ures she has, and what a delightful hour she
and Edgar will spend over them.
The question is, my Blossoms, could not you
each start a "treasure box" of your own?


.? ERE is a copy of a "sermon" which a
little girl preached years ago to her
playmates. She is a young lady now,
and an earnest Christian worker. She
sent me a copy of her "sermon" to
show me how little people sometimes think of
the truths they have learned. She says it did
not seem to occur to her that she had based
her right-doing on very low ground, and that
it was several years afterwards before she saw
how poor her motive was, after all.
Read the little sermon carefully, and see if
you understand what the lady means by her
"A little boy and a little girl were sent to
carry a basket of cake to their grandmother.
The boy was going to eat one, when the little
girl said, 'Thou God seest me.' The little boy
did not eat the cake after that; he ,did not
want to do wrong if God saw him."
We must try to do right, for if we do
wrong God sees us and he will surely punish
us. Mary was a little girl who lived with her
mother. They were very poor. The mother
did washing and ironing, and Mary carried the
clothes around to the houses where they
One day she found a silver half-dollar in one
of the pockets. She was going to keep it,
when our text came into her mind; she thought
that God would punish her if she did, so she
gave it back. When she had given it back she
felt very much happier than if she had kept it.
We must try to remember that God sees us
all the time.

"God sees us all the time,
No matter what we do.
He sees us when we tell a lie,
And when we tell what's true."
E. E. C.







was almost Christmas time, and Uncle
Ben was in a big ship on the ocean.
I He was in a hurry to get home, because
he had something nice to put in a little girl's
stocking. Her name was Nellie. Her eyes
were blue. Her hair was yellow and curly,
and she had a little pink mouth round as an o.
What was Uncle Ben going to bring her?
Something in a cage.
Was it a canary bird? No, it was not. But
it was something very nice that he had brought
from a country far away over the seas.
Well, the big ship got there at last. Christ-
mas morning came, and Nellie's stocking hung
in the chimney cor-
ner. Uncle Ben
7 was there, too,
S. walking up and
S down the' room.
Mamma was there
S sitting by the fire
talking to him.
At last the door
'I ^ opened and Nellie
Sran in. She had
her new blue dress
on. "Halloo, lit-
tle bluebird," said
Uncle Ben; "fly
over to me and give me a kiss, and then let
us see what is in the stocking."
Just then a funny little voice said, "Merry
Christmas, Nellie !"
Nellie looked all about to see who spoke.
What did she see? A little green head with
bright eyes was poking itself out of her
stocking. It was a Poll parrot!
"Take me out, take me out," Polly screamed,
so Uncle Ben took her out.

What a beauty she was! Her feathers were
blue and green and red and pink and yellow.
Nellie clapped her hands and said, "Isn't
she pretty ?"
Pretty Polly," said the parrot. That made
Nellie laugh. Then Polly laughed. She opened
her mouth wide and said "Ha! ha! ha!"
Then everybody laughed, and Poll screamed
out "Ha! ha! ha!" again, and laughed till
she almost tumbled over.
Nellie tried to take hold of her, but Poll ran
away and turned her head on one side and
said, "Take care there! What are you at?"
The. next thing Polly did was to hop up on
a chair and look at herself in the glass.
She bobbed her head up and down and said,
"How do you do? Glad to meet you."
Then she got down and walked about, and
looked at things. When Nellie called out
"Pretty Polly," Poll would put her head on
one side and look very wise, and say in her
little cracked voice, "Pretty Nellie!"
At last Poll said in a cross voice, I'm hun-
gry. Is breakfast ready?" and screamed out,

"Polly put the kettle on,
We'll all take tea."

"Sure enough," said Nellie's mamma, "I
think we must all be hungry." When they
went out to breakfast, Poll said, O, my stars!"
After breakfast Nellie fell and hurt her a lit-
tle. She began to cry, but Poll came and stood
up before her in such a funny way and said, -
"Now, cry-baby, cry-baby, cry-baby!" that
she had to stop crying and laugh.
At bedtime Nellie said, "Good-night, Polly."
"Good-night, Nellie," Poll said, "sweet
dreams, my dear."
Nellie thinks that Poll is the very best
Christmas present she ever had.
All parrots cannot talk as much as this one.
Uncle Ben spent a long time teaching her.



t ERE is a little baby of to-day
being pointed to the Star
while mamma tries to tell a
little of the "old, old story."
How old it is!
Did you ever hear of an old man
named Alexander, who lived about
seventeen hundred years ago? Did
you ever hear of a place called the
Catacombs? Look up that word,
will you, in the Encyclopedia and
see what you can learn about ft.
Then think of a company of Chris-
tians gathered in the place which it
describes, talking about the star
which not two hundred years before


pointed the way to the Saviour. It is Christmas
night, and some of them have met in this hid-
ing-place of theirs to celebrate it. Yes, they
had to hide. The emperor hated all who loved
the name of Jesus, and was trying to find them
out and put them to death.
One old man, Alexander, on that Christmas
evening so long ago, spoke words like these,
pointing upward with his hand as he spoke:
"This roof of stone hides the stars, but they
shine; and they that turn many to righteous-
ness shall shine as the stars of heaven. I know
that when this feast day passes in the city, I
shall be given to the beasts; but the hosts of
the righteous shall increase, shining in their
beauty, and Bethlehem's Star shall never set."
He was right. They hunted him out, before
long, and his name is on the list of the Chris-
tian martyrs of that day. He has been for
sixteen hundred years with the Saviour whose
birth he celebrated that night. And Bethle-
hem's Star shines on. PANSY.



OW the Judge was very well known
about town, and no little curiosity was
excited by this connection of his with
missionary interests. It was, therefore, quite
a good-sized company which gathered in Mr.
Seymour's woodshed when Friday evening
arrived, and seated itself on a varied assort-
ment of chairs, to hear, or see, the entertain-
ment. Possibly the peculiar nature of the
admittance fee had something to do, also, with
the size of the audience.
They had not long to wait before the goat
-I mean the Judge-walked slowly across
what took the place of the stage, bearing a pla-
card which announced the first number of the
programme: "Overture, Missionary Chorus."
Some thought that a dish of beans in plain sight
of the Judge, as he entered from the opposite
opening, had to do with his prompt progress
across the stage ; however, he did his part in a
graceful and dignified manner. Nothing short
of a fight could induce him to hurry.

This "Missionary Chorus" was set to the
tune of the "Battle Hymn of the Republic,"
because that proved to be the only one which
Ralph, Phil and Susie Seymour could sing
together with any adequate regard for har-
mony and time. So much difficulty there was
in finding any suitable words for this tune, that
I strongly suspect that Papa Seymour himself
is responsible for those which finally were ren-
dered. The first verse, if I remember rightly,
ran as follows : -

"Far across the ocean many little children dwell,
They have no books, they have no schools, no ringing Sab-
bath bell;
Then help to send them what they need, and help us, too, to
Our missionary song."

The chorus, in which the audience were in-
vited to join, of course contained some refer-
ence to "marching on," and the last time it
was repeated the trio marched out demurely,
followed by the Judge, who, queerly enough,
had appeared just in time.
Before the.next item on the programme there
was some little delay, but at last the goat am-
bled in again, this time with little Phil on his
back. Phil often used to ride him, and with
him the Judge was always perfectly gentle.
Phil was dressed in the costume of a Chinese
boy, partly obtained from Chee Fung, the laun-
dry-man, and partly made with the aid of gor-
geous pictures in the Seymour library. Phil
was beating the goat very hard, and although
this did not seem to hurt very much, probably
owing to the board under the saddle-cloth, on
which the beating was done, it seemed to sur-
prise the Judge a great deal, and he looked
rather injured. This arrangement was doubt-
less intended by the youthful managers to
typify the uncivilized cruelty of the Celestial
mind.. The Chinese boy carried a fan bearing
some pictures of his own people, and an in-
scription in his own tongue made by the afore-
said laundry-man --probably Mrs. Seymour's
washing bill which -Ralph (very truthfully)
explained to the audience the bearer couldn't
read, as he was very ignorant indeed, although
the missionaries were trying to educate him.
The next scene was of a little Hindoo boy,


which Ralph and Phil had taken especial pains
with, inasmuch as Hindoostan was Mr. Bradley's
especial field of labor. That gentleman had
furnished the costume Phil wore, although it
appeared from the aforementioned book of
pictures that not much costume was needed
for a small Hindoo boy. Phil's face presented
a most ghastly appearance, having been cov-
ered with burnt cork, which had been rubbed
off in a few places. Ralph explained to the
audience this time that the reason the Hindoo
had so many clothes on was because he had
been to school to the missionaries, and had
learned to wear them. At this juncture, how-
ever, he was interrupted by the Hindoo himself,
who whispered loudly, in surprisingly good
English, -
"Why, Ralph, you know it was because
mamma wouldn't let me go the way the boy
in the picture looked."
The audience seemed much delighted with
this small difference of opinion, which exposed
Mr. Seymour's innocent explanation, which he
had suggested to Ralph.
In the Hindoo scene, which was further graced
by several ornaments and mats from India, fur-
nished by Mr. Bradley, the goat was very well
treated, Ralph further explaining that the re-
deeming feature of Hindoo barbarism was the
kind treatment granted animals. But the
Judge appeared so much excited by the ap-
plause he elicited, that it was thought best to
remove him, and the curtain, metaphorically
speaking, fell.
The next number, doubtless owing to the
equal appropriateness of the,burnt cork, was
a representation of a view in the South Sea
Islands, and here the Judge appeared with a
garland of leaves around his picturesque head,
led along rather savagely by Phil, who carried
a fierce-looking sickle, stained with beet-juice.
This. seemed rather exciting, and the expositor
explained to the audience that this South Sea
Islander, in the depravity of ignorance and
superstition, was about to sacrifice the goat by
throwing it into a volcano which had for some
time been in a state of eruption, to appease the
anger of its god. The Judge looked appropri-
ately discouraged, and the reality was still more
heightened by the explosion of a few fire-

crackers behind the scenes, to represent the
thunderings of the volcano. At this the vic-
tim was so disturbed that he disappeared from
view with a little less dignity than usual.
It seemed, a few moments later, that he had
been rescued from his terrible fate, for he was
observed calmly grazing in a pastoral scene,
near a tent where an Arab family were resting
peacefully, in white turbans and long robes.
A boy in a peculiarly arranged night-shirt was
diligently beating a large sack against a post.
Ralph this time explained, somewhat to the
surprise. of the audience, that the goat appear-
ing in the background,had recently been milked,
since the Arabs used goats' milk altogether,
and that the person with the sack (who was
seen to have a few streaks of burnt cork re-
maining on his face) was churning the butter
to be made from the milk. He further showed
that the sack was the skin of another goat,
which, on being removed, was turned inside
out, without washing, and the milk poured in.
I fear that none of those present, if they shall
ever travel to Syria, will partake of Arab butter
with genuine enjoyment.
But my notes of this remarkable entertain-
ment are becoming too long, and I must hasten
on. At the close of the dramatic part of the
programme, Susie Seymour appeared to recite
for the Judge his address to his audience,
which he had felt unable to deliver. I may
say that in this case it is suspected that Mamma
Seymour may be held responsible for what
If my hasty notes are correct, this was the

" Dear friends: you have listened with gravest attention
To the facts which to you we have ventured to mention.
The kindness you've shown is really relieving,
But. as we're about through we must soon say good-evening.
I am sure you have all been delighted to note
How much interest in missions I take, for a goat.
If you all do as well, in your several stations,
I am sure you'll have heeded our just exhortations.
Of the poor little children of whom you have heard,
Since you've seen now so much, I shall not say a word;
No doubt they all have your sincerest affection,
And therefore it is I take up a collection.
To help them your money is needed most surely-
To reach them, to teach them, to house them securely.
I am positive, friends, as a goat often can be,
You'll assist these poor people to read Hindoostanee.
And to those who are asking for teachers so sadly,
The money'll be carried by good Mr. Bradley.
I repeat it: I'm.sure you're delighted to note
How much interest in missions I have, for a goat.
Your dimes, like your presence, you'll surely net grudge,
But give gladly and freely. Yours truly, The Judge."


This address was received with earnest
applause, as was its pretended author, who
appeared with a basket fastened on his back,
and walked down the aisle, chewing a handful
of greens which had been given him to calm
him. From every hand pennies, dimes and
quarters were dropped into his basket, so that
he moved all too rapidly to receive them, which
is a fault collectors are not usually accused of.
There was no interruption save by the irre-
pressible Tom Smith, who tried to excite the
Judge by too close attentions, but as a punish-
ment for his misdemeanor he was seized by his
companions, and made to give three times as
much money as he had any intention of doing.
The collection taken, the goat again appeared
on the stage, and Mr. Seymour arose and said
that the closing exercises were held for two
reasons: first, because it was thought that the
Judge, who had so meritoriously conducted the
entertainment, should receive some substantial
reward, although the kind donation of the
audience he doubtless regarded as sufficient
remuneration; and second, because the enter-
tainment was held in the interests of good lit-
erature, and it was thought fitting to recognize

the fact by the destruction of some of an
exactly opposite character.
These sentiments the company applauded,
when Mr. Seymour produced the bundle of
" Firelight Companions which had been taken
in at the door, and handing them over to the
Judge, that worthy rapidly and entirely con-
sumed a large portion, and smacked his lips
over the remembrance.
It is safe to say that no item of the pro-
gramme produced more enthusiastic admiration
among the audience than this. They shouted
and cheered so vigorously that if he had not,
so to speak, been too full for utterance, I think
the goat would have shown no little alarm.
The company dispersed, the goat lay down
to sweet slumbers, and the little Seymours,
with tired hands and brains, counted over the
pile of money the entertainment had brought.
"Didn't the Judge do splendidly?" said
Yes," said little Phil gravely, "I think we
all did."
And I, as a humble reporter of the evening,
must add that I think so too.


MERRY:i-:-l;. CHi I T S!::-~- :r-;



WE want your help, my noble boys,
An army of you, to throttle
The powerful demon of all unrest,
Who lurks in a black glass bottle.
Sometimes 'tisn't black, but it usually is,
And you may not see him lurk,
But you can't turn to left, or right, or front,
Without seeing some of his work.
He's the grandest ally old Satan has,
Cunning as well as strong,
And he works by night as well as day,
And hides his work with a song.
'Tis only to stifle his victim's cries
That he hides his work with mirth,
For the greatest woe is the demon's own,
That is known in all the earth,
And the world wants you who are growing men
To help in this coming fight.
The race before you have battled long,
But have failed to make things right.
So gird yourselves, it will need you all,
All, on the righteous side,
To put your feet on the demon's neck,
And his terrible power outride.
But oh! beware, lest he conquer you,
"For the end thereof is death"-
Death to the body and death to the soul
Is dealt by his deadly breath.
So come, even now we want you all
To save the world to-day;
Your strong young arms, and courage high,
To cast the curse away. I
The cry goes up from the anguished earth,
"How long, O, Lord! how long?"
'Mid the din of midnight revelry
And the victim's drunken song.
So move to your places in the ranks,
And give all your strength to throttle
Him who is peopling the under world -
The demon that lurks in the bottle. E. B. S.

A FINE Newfoundland dog and a mastiff
Shad a quarrel. They were fighting on
a bridge, and being blind with rage, as is often
the case, over they went into the water.
The banks were so high that they were

forced to swim some distance before they came
to a landing-place. It was very easy for the
Newfoundland dog; he was as much at home
in the water as a seal. But not so with poor
Bruce. He struggled and tried his best to
swim, but made little headway.
Old Bravo, the Newfoundland, had reached
the land, and turned to look at his old enemy.
He saw plainly that his strength was fast fail-
ing, and that he was likely to drown. So what
should he do but plunge in, seize him gently
by the collar, and, keeping his nose above
water, tow him safely into port.
It was curious to see the dogs look at each
other as soon as they shook their wet coats.
Their glances said plainly as words, "We will
never quarrel any more." Selected.


N the way to Wonderland;
Maidens three, all dressed so grand 1
Bonnets, boots and basket,
Umbrellas, bundle, casket,
Book to write the wonders in;
Each one bound the prize to win.
Oh! 'twas queer to see each maiden,
With her baggage heavy laden,
On her way; each bound to stand,



That same day, in Wonderland.
On they went, with right good-will,
Fast as farmers to the mill.
But, alas! What did they see?
Nought but bird, and bush, and tree,
Hop-toad, mouse, and Granny Cricket,
Hiding low within the thicket.
Then, home they scampered, one, two, three,
Just as fast as fast could be. A. G. R.

/ /-c &, ) p,




DON'T know how it happened. It
certainly wasn't like W-. stler; as a
rule he was one of the most trust-
worthy boys in school. Why such a
terrible temptation should have overtaken him
that day and been yielded to, perhaps his own
-conscience can tell, I'm sure I cannot. Of
course I can "guess" that he may have been
growing careless; may have thought that of
course he would be a good boy, and may not
have asked for special help that morning, and

in that way have let
Satan get the advan-
tage of him; or it may
have been in sprme
other way I don't
know. But I know
this. Into the quiet
of that February
morning, when all the
scholars were bend-
ing over their books,
there came a sudden
a t buzzing sound from
00 POO WEBSTER! .: 00ei. corner.
The teacher had been
-much tried with whisperers, and had made, a
short time before, a pretty severe threat hav-
ing to do with the next ,:.n;- who whispered.
It looked as though Wb-l:ter wis, that one.
The teacher was surprised and grieved. He
was one of her favorites. Webster, did you
whisper just now?" she asked, and Webster
" said, promptly and distinctly, No, ma'am."
Up to that moment he had had the sympathy
of every girl and boy in the room; but along

with that distinct "No, ma'am," came, almost
in the same breath, a subdued murmur of
"O-h-h!" from his classmates. You know
how they make that long-drawn-out undertone
which expresses astonishment, and dissent, and
strong disapproval?
Mamie Howell, who was Webster's very
special friend, looked down on her slate and
said not a word, but her cheeks grew scarlet,
and a mist very like tears came into her eyes.
At recess, instead of going out to play, she sat
down by herself on the teacher's platform in
front of the large window, and by turns
watched the snow-birds outside, or,
With her finger in her history to
keep the place, looked at nothing
in particular, and thought her sor-
rowful thoughts. She-was so disap.
pointed in Webster. Who would
have supposed that he could tell a
c lie? She knew he had whispered;
she had even heard what he said.
Poor Webster! he knew it too,
and his heart was even heavier at this minute
than Mamie's. He too was alone, out in the
great hall, leaning against one of the high
window-seats, his finger also keeping the place
in history, but his mind too busy over his down.
fall to have room for more ancient history,
-.What an extraordinary thing that he, Web.
ster Briggs, should have said what was not
true! Nothing dreadful had happened in con-
sequence. The teacher had looked relieved
rather than otherwise at his answer, and had
asked no more questions. But then Webster
knew, and he knew that Mamie Howell knew,
and for the matter of that, all the girls and
boys on the west side knew that it was he who
had whispered. What was to be done?
What was done was certainly very disagree-
able. Not a boy or a girl spoke to Webster
during that long recess. The girls gathered in
groups and talked about him, and the boys
voted with one consent that he was a muff,"
and let him alone. Mamie neither talked about
him nor to him, but she cried once or twice
and her eyes were red.
It may be surprising, but none of these things
helped Webster. When he asked Clay Peter-
son for his jack-knife, and Clay answered only


by a low whistle, Webster's face grew scarlet,
and he muttered that for his part he didn't
think it was any worse to whisper than it was
to whistle, and that, if Miss Parkhurst hadn't
been out of the room a minute, Clay wouldn't
have dared to whistle.
Then Clay answered that that might all be
true, but if Miss Parkhurst asked him when
she came back whether he had whistled he
should certainly say Yes.
At that moment Miss Parkhurst returned,
but as it was an hour when the scholars had a
right to ask each other ques-
tions in. low tones about what-
ever they needed to know, she
did not inquire as to what had
been going on while she was
The disagreeable day was
over at last, and Webster went
home feeling cross and fierce.
What business had the scholars
to treat him so? He had not
meant to tell a lie. He had
meant to say in the next
second that it was a mistake,
that he did not think what
he was saying when he said
that "No, ma'am.'" He would
have done it, too, before recess,
if they hadn't acted so mean.
What business was it of theirs?
Webster was not on the road to happiness.
It was a busy evening to several of his
schoolmates. Clay Peterson and his small
friend Hugh Borland spent the evening to-
gdther. Hugh was the school artist. Small as
he was, he could make very comical pictures,
and had a dangerous talent for sketching like-
nesses. It had dawned upon both of these boys
that the next would be Valentine's Day, and
they had decided to send Webster Briggs a valen-
tine. So Hugh made a very ridiculous picture
of him, with a very large mouth out of which
was issuing a very large "No, ma'am!" and
Clay added a doggerel in rhyme beginning: -
"This is the boy all shaven and shorn,
Who sat in the schoolroom one winter morn,
And created a sigh,
And made Mamie cry,
And made all the scholars say Oh! why
Will a good little boy ever tell a lie ?' "

There were four verses, all equally poetic
and helpful. What a blessed thing it was that
other valentines were being written that even-
ing. It was Helen Borland, Hugh's sister, who
thought out her plan and went to her mother's
writing-table to carryitout. It wasaveryhighly
ornamented valentine on which she wrote:

We, the undersigned, are sorry you did not tell the truth.
If you will say you are sorry, and won't do so any more, we
will all forgive you and treat you good; because we do bad
things too, sometimes, and you don't hardly ever, and we
must forgive one another.


Helen's own name was signed to this, and it
was her plan to try to get every girl and boy
in the room to follow her example. She began
with her brother Hugh.
"Huh!" he said, "I can't sign that thing; it
won't match." Then he giggled over the
thought of the caricature which was already in
the post-office. Yet he signed the paper, after
all. "I am scrry for him," he said to himself;
" I Only made that picture for fun."
But Clay Peterson wouldn't sign it; he
wanted to be "consistent," he said.
Three valentines for Webster Briggs. Of
course he opened the largest first. It was the
picture and the poem. Have you any idea
how angry the boy was? He almost choked in
his effort to talk fast enough. He called all
his schoolmates a mean, horrid set, and declared


he would never speak to any of them again.
Then he cried, poor fellow hot, angry tears.
He had been excused from school that morn-
ing-his mother thought he didn't seem well
- so there was plenty of time to read his val-
entines. He didn't open the next one for half
an hour. When he did, and saw the long list
of names- twenty-eight of them; only one miss-
ing-he cried again, but this time the tears were
not so bitter, and his heart was growing softer.
They were his friends, after all, and he hadn't
deserved that they should be;.he had done a
mean thing; what was the use of pretending it
With these thoughts coming thick and fast
into his heart he opened the third valentine.
A wee white note with a picture of a white
dove in the corner, and these words carefully

I love you, but you will not be happy any more, nor shall
I, until you ask Jesus and Miss Parkhurst to forgive you. I
know that is so, for when I do wrong it is the only way to
get back the happy. Dear Webster, I know you will do it.

Then Webster buried his curly head in his
hands and cried hard for five minutes; then he
went in search of his mother. An hour after-
wards he went to school, taking an excuse from

his mother for tardiness. Just before recess
Miss Parkhurst announced that one of the
scholars had something he wished to say. Up
came Webster Briggs, his face quite pale, and
his voice low but steady. He wanted to say
that he had told a lie the day before ; it was
he who had whispered; he had not meant to
say "No, ma'am," when Miss Parkhurst asked
him; he did not know why he had, but he felt
almost certain that he would never say such a
thing again. Would Miss Parkhurst forgive
him and give him the punishment now that he
ought to have had yesterday?
What was the matter with Miss Parkhurst?
She was brushing a tear away from her eyes.
What she did, was to ask all the scholars who
believed that Webster Briggs had received
punishment enough and wanted to have him
forgiven, to rise. Up came every scholar, as
though they were connected by electric wires!
The moment recess was announced, Clay
Peterson bounded over the top of his desk and
reached Webster's side. "Look here," he said,
"I want to sign that valentine you got this
morning. My name belongs there, and I want
the other one to burn up; I do, honest. We
only did it for fun, but it was mean. Helen
had the best fun, I think. And look here, I'll
lend you my jack-knife two of 'em if you
want them." PANSY.



_ __ _____ _I_




OY hovered about his mother, watch-
5 '_ ing.her work, handing her spool, her
r.'jf- scissors, even threading her needle
once or twice. Roy was very fond of
his mother.
"I've settled on my verse for the term," he
said presently. "It took me some time to
decide between three; but at last I chose
'That we may be saved from our enemies.' A
boy has so many enemies, you know."
"I know," his mother said, smiling up at
him fondly, her heart very glad over Roy's
manly fight against his enemies.
Cassie listened doubtfully. "I don't see
what enemies you could have, Roy," she said,
"everybody likes you."
Roy laughed. "That is just what is the
matter sometimes," he said. But Cassie did
not understand.
I can't take that for my verse, any way,"
she said, with a satisfied air. "I haven't an
enemy in the world."
Roy looked at his mother and smiled.
"I've seen an enemy of yours," he said,
"and one who is on the watch to do you
harm, too."
"Who is it?" Cassie asked quickly. "I
most know you are mistaken. Faye Bennet
was my enemy, but we've made up, and now
there isn't anybody."
"Mother, don't you know one who is very
anxious to get Cassie into trouble'? asked
"I am sorry to say that I do. And I've
seen traces of his influence this very day,"
was the mother's answer.
"I don't know what you mean," declared
Cassie, and her tone was almost fretful.
Roy and his mother often talked in a way
that she did not understand.
"I'll tell you what," said Roy; "I'll keep
watch of this enemy of yours all day. to-
morrow. -There's no school, you know, and
I'll keep a list of the number of times he
undertakes to do you harm, and show it to
you in the afternoon shall I?"
S"You may keep all the watch you want to,"
Cassie said loftily; "I know you won't find

anybody who is trying to make any trouble for
me. How can they, and I not know anything.
about it?"
Nevertheless, the plan was agreed upon, and
for the remainder of the evening Cassie had a
good deal to say about it, but the next day she
forgot it.
Not so Roy.
Cassie," called her mother, from the dining-
room, "bring me the scissors from my work-
"In a minute, mamma; I just want to get
these flowers in the vase," and she continued
to arrange the dried grasses and leaves for a
winter bouquet.
"Cassie," said her father, an hour afterwards,
"run up to my dressing-room and bring me my
Cassie went, but was so long that Roy went
in search of her. He found her at the head of
the stairs, trying to make Rover carry the
slippers down in his mouth.
"Father is waiting," he said reproachfully.
"Well, I'm coming. I'm only trying to
teach Rover how to be useful."
If Cassie hadn't forgotten, she would have
noticed that Roy, frequently during the day,
had occasion to write something in his note-
It was late in the afternoon, however, before
the crowning record of the day was made.
Cassie was dressed and ready for the parlor,
where a very interesting thing was about to
Almira, the second girl, who had been in the
family for three years, and was an orphan with
no home of her own, was to be married at four
o'clock, in the back parlor. It had been beau-
tifully trimmed for the occasion with ever-
greens and bright red berries. In fact, Cassie's
mother had been busy all day making various
preparations, and Cassie believed herself to
have been very helpful. She was a good deal
It so happened that she had never had the
pleasure of attending a wedding, so it was a
great event to her.
The hour for the ceremony was drawing
near, and Almira's friends who had been invited
were beginning to arrive, when Cassie was sent


to her mother's room for a handkerchief and
fan which lay on the bureau. "Make haste,
Cassie," her mother had said, "I shall want
them in a few minutes, everything is ready
And Cassie had fully intended to make
haste, but on the sofa, flung hastily aside, was
a handsome silk wrapper of her mother's, which
was so rarely worn that a sight of it was a treat
to the beautyloving little girl.
Oh! that pretty dress," she said. "I wish
wrappers were nice to wear to weddings; I'd
like to see mamma in it. S'pose I was a tall
lady, and this wasn't a wrapper, but a dress for
a bride, and I was putting it on, and was going
to be married in a few minutes; I wonder how
I would feel? I hope they will wear great
long trains when I'm married, and that my
dress will be bright pink satin, with gold-
colored ribbons, and be as long for me as
this is."
By this time the "lovely" wrapper was
thrown around the little girl, and was being
trailed grandly across the room, the feather
fan for which she had been sent carried in one
hand, and swayed gracefully now and then.
'*Come, Alice," said Cassie's father down-
stairs, speaking to his wife, "you are being
waited for. The bride is ready to enter the
"Where can Cassie be?" said Mrs. Bennet,
coming in haste across the hall.
She is still upstairs," said her father gravely.
"No, don't call her," as Roy made a movement
toward the stairs. "The child has not done
anything promptly to-day. She must have her
lesson in some form, perhaps this is as well as
So they went into the parlor and closed the
Five minutes afterwards Cassie came flying
down the stairs, only to find those folding-doors
that led into the parlors tightly closed.
"Remember," her father had said, "to be
tardy at a wedding is unpardonable. If you
young ones are not down until after the doors
are closed, it will be a signal that you are too
late; don't presume to open them."
Poor Cassie, when she had heard this, had
smiled to herself and thought, "The idea of

being late to-day! I'll be there a half-hour
before time." Yet for the pleasure of parading
about the room in her mother's flowered
wrapper, she had lost the marriage ceremony.
"I didn't see her until after she was all mar-
ried, and I couldn't see her then, because I
had cried so hard that my eyes were red, and
my nose was all swollen, and mamma had to
make me over, hair and all."
This was the way Cassie told her trouble to
Roy as she cuddled on the sofa beside him that
Roy's arm was about her, and his sympathy
for her disappointment had been hearty and
loving, but at this point he said, "It was all
the fault of that enemy of yours, Cassie dear.
Don't you remember mamma and I warned
you against him?"
'' Who?" asked Cassie, going slowly over in
her mind the talk of the evening before.
"There hasn't anybody been near me all day
only just our own folks, and Almira's wedding
friends; none of them hindered me. I don't
know what you mean. What is my enemy's
"He has a good many nicknames," said Roy
gravely, "and I've noticed that you generally
speak of him by one of them. 'By-and-by,'
'Pretty Soon,' 'In a Minute,' he answers to all
of these, but his real name is Procrastination,'
and he is a thief."


O-DAY thirty-four missionary societies
work in Africa, and all its two hun-
dred million souls are within reach of
Christian missions; thirty-three socie-
ties in China, and its three hundred
and fifty million may be visited with the Gos-
pel message (unless the Government drives
these societies out); fifty societies in India,
and the light is dawning upon its two hundred
and fifty million. Turkey, Persia and Japan
are filling with mission churches and schools.
The world is opening. The greatest day for
the Kingdom of God earth has ever seen, has
dawned. Selected.




T was one cold November morning that
a little girl stood beside the teacher's
desk in one of the city schools waiting
for a seat to be given her.
Rachel Ford was a new scholar, and felt shy
and strange as she looked down the long room
at rows of boys and girls who stared coldly at
her. She felt uncomfortable when she remem-
bered that her elbows were patched, and that
her shoes were coarse and clumsy beside the
trim boots of the girl who sat nearest her.
Rachel's little pale face, with dark locks fall-
ing about it, seemed to grow paler, and her
black eyes sadder as she cast a wistful look at
a girl whose blue cashmere dress and dainty
scrap of a white apron made of muslin and
lace, set off her pink and white face and golden
hair to advantage.
"How pretty she is," thought Rachel. "How
happy she must be to wear such a nice dress
and shoes every day." Then she looked down
at her own faded brown dress and old shoes
again and sighed.
Lina Brooks, the pretty girl, was studying
her grammar lesson and the new scholar at the
same time. Mixed up in her mind with verbs
and pronouns were remarks to herself like this:
"What a faded dress! Patched! What
horrid boots! Her hair and eyes are awful
black; maybe she's a Jew," whereupon she
turned to the girl who sat behind her and
whispered, nodding at Rachel, "I guess she's a
Lina had just learned a long column where
she found that the feminine of Jew was Jewess,
and her lesson at Sabbath-school yesterday had
been on the duty of showing kindness to others.
Apparently she had forgotten both lessons now.
Sarah Rogers, who had caught only the last
word of Lina's remark, stared a moment at
Rachel and then whispered to her seat-mate, as
she motioned toward the new scholar, "She's
a Jew." Then all three girls stared in concert.
Rachel heard them, and looking up suddenly
met their scornful eyes. Her own flashed in
return. She felt as if she should cry that very

minute. She had a great notion to run out of
the door and never come back.
But just then the teacher came and gave her
a seat not far from Lina Brooks, and then all
three girls made eyes at each other, and Rachel
saw it and knew it was about her. Then Sarah
Rogers in a loud whisper informed a girl across
the aisle that the new scholar was a Jew; her
name was Rachel, and that was a real Jew name.
"No it isn't either," whispered a stout girl.
"My grandmother's name was Rachel, and she
isn't any Jew."
It's in the Bible, anyway," Sarah declared.
"She was Abraham's wife, and he was a Jew."
"Oh! that is too good," said an older, girl.
"Abraham's wife's name was Sarah. Now,
Sarah Rogers, what have you got to say?"
This caused a general giggle, and the teacher
announced demerits for all four girls, so order
was restored.
Poor Rachel' tried to put her thoughts on
the lesson Miss Hall had given her to learn, but
it was hard work; the tears would come and
blind her eyes so that she could scarcely see.
Rachel's life had been a happy one until her
father's death. He was a minister, and had
preached in a pleasant little town. They had
a nice snug home, with everything they needed,
and Rachel attended a good school where all the
girls were her friends. Now all was so changed.
They were very poor, and had no friends in
the city. Mrs. Ford had removed there be-
cause she thought she could find a place to
teach, but so far she had failed in that, and
was obliged to take in sewing. She could not
earn much at that, so could not buy all the
shoes and dresses she would have liked for her
little daughter.
Rachel was glad when that first dreary day
of school was over and she could go. Her
home was in "a poor part of the city in a back
room of the fourth story. She was thinking
as she went slowly up the last flight of stairs
that she never could stand it to go to school
with all those "hateful girls."
Her mother sat by the one window bending
over her sewing, but she dropped it and held
out her arms to Rachel. "I'm so glad you are
home, dear," she said," and how did school go?"

- I


MIT T- --- miI_____ __________




ACHEL had resolved, like a wise little
woman, as she came along, that she
would not tell her trouble lest it would
grieve her mother. But mother had
seen it in Ler eyes as soon as she opened the
door. "What is it, dear?" she asked. "Were
the lessons too hard? Tell mother all about
it, Rachie."
Rachel's good resolutions all vanished. She
hid her head in her mother's neck, and the
tears she had held back all day fell fast.
"0, mother!" she sobbed out, "I can't stand
it. There are some bad, hateful girls. They
looked at me so! They've got pretty clothes,
and they whispered about me. One said I
looked like the Jews. O, dear! I never can
go to that horrid school again. What makes
me look like a Jew? Do I? They said Rachel
was a Jew name. What was I named that
for, anyway?" and Rachel, with overwrought
nerves, nearly screamed out the last words.
Her mother did not pay anything for a few
minutes. She kissed her forehead and softly
smoothed her hair, and let her have the cry out,
then she asked, "Did you find the lessons hard,
"Not a bit," said Rachel, and the teacher
was nice to me; but do I look like a Jew girl?"
"No, my dear, you do not; some ignorant
little girl must have said that. Jews have
black hair and eyes, and yours are unusually
dark; they have noses, too--everybody who
owns a nose is not a Jew on that account.
Your eyes and hair are like dear papa's, Rachie;
I would not have them different for anything.
But you must not think in that way of the
Jews. There are good and bad people among
them just as in our nation. They are deceived,
and do not believe the truth about Jesus, but
some day they will come to the light and know
Him as He is. The Lord Jesus himself was a
Jew, you remember. And now my darling
must try to be a brave girl and rise above these
things. You are making a character now, and
these trials have to do in forming it. The way
you bear them will mould you into a Christ-like

woman or one who is bitter and hard. You
want to be God's dear, patient daughter, don't
you, dear?"
"Yes, I do," said Rachel softly, the fire all
gone from her eyes.
Well, then, do as He would tell you to do
if He were here. Treat those girls kindly.
Pray for them, and you will feel kinder. Now
let us go and see what we can get up for a nice'
It would seem as if it were easy to be kind
and pleasant, surrounded by as many nice things
as Lina Brooks had in her home, but strangely
enough those who have every wish gratified
are apt to be most selfish.
One evening the Brooks family were gath-
ered in their pleasant sitting-room, Lina with
a basket of bright wools and pretty ribbons
was making Christmas presents, while her
mother was giving an account of her visits
among the poor that afternoon.
"And who do you think I found ?" she said
to her husband, "away up in a dingy fourth-
story back room but my old friend Mary Rob-
erts! I was so glad to see her. She married
a minister by the name of Ford, but he died
about a year ago. Mary is trying to earn her
living at sewing, but she can never do it. She
is finely educated, and is an excellent teacher.
We must try to find a good position for her.
She has one child, a little girl with lovely great
eyes. She is a sensitive little creature, and
has been made very unhappy in school by
some rude girls who looked down upon her
because she was poorly dressed, I suppose. I
hope no child of mine will be guilty of such
actions," she said, looking at Lina. "I do
trust I have taught them better. Why, she
must be in your school, Lina, for they live in
this ward. Have you seen a little girl by the
name of Rachel Ford?"
Lina, while she bent over her basket, said in
some confusion she believed she had heard that
Her mother did not notice that her face
grew quite red, and she went on charging her
to find out the little girl and be friendly to her.
"Mrs. Ford was one of my dear friends
when I was a schoolgirl," she said, "and I love
her very much."


/ I-


Lina soon lost all interest in her work. What
would her mother say if she knew all? A
vision of poor little Rachel bending over her
books, patient and sad, kept coming up before
her. For three whole weeks she had sat across
the aisle from her and hrd not given her a
kind word or look, although she knew she was
lonely and neglected.
Lina went early to bed and tried to go to
sleep and forget her disagreeable thoughts, but
sleep ran away from her. She was tormented
with the thought that she was deceiving her
mother. She had not been the sort of girl in
school that her mother supposed she was.
Lying there in the darkness and quiet she felt
condemned in the sight of Jesus, her Saviour,
for she had promised to live to please Him. It
is so good that when we have done wrong we
do not need to go away above the clouds to
find Him. Just a whisper in the darkness--
He hears and forgives.
But Lina could not rest until she called her
mother in and confessed everything to her.
The next morning Rachel, who had come
early to school, was in her seat before the bell
rang studying her arithmetic lesson. She felt
a hand laid on her shoulder and looking up
saw, to her surprise, Lina Brooks. Lina's
cheeks were pinker than ever as she said in a
low tone, "I was hateful and wicked to you;
will you forgive me? My mamma went to
see your mamma yesterday, and they are old
friends. Let us be friends too."
Rachel was too much surprised to speak for
a minute, then her eyes filled with tears.
"Oh will you like me just a little? I'm so
glad!" she said eagerly.
The girls opened their eyes wide at recess
when Lina Brooks asked Rachel to come and
play with them. Whatever Lina did, though,
was considered by the other girls the thing to
do, and as they followed her example in being
rule to Rachel they now followed it in being
fli'ndly, so the forlorn little girl seemed to
have plenty of friends by the end of another
The night before Christmas, just as Rachel
and her mother had drawn up to the fire to
have a little talk, there came a knock at the
door, and a man appeared with a good-sized

box, which he said he was ordered to leave
Mrs. Ford thought there must be some mis-
take, but there was her name on a card, so
Rachel ran for the hammer and the box was
soon opened. On the top was a slip of paper
which said, "For Rachel, from Santa Claus."
It seemed as if Santa Claus had not forgotten
anything that a girl needed. There was a
brown dress and a scarlet dress, prettily made.
There was a long brown cloak--"warm as
toast," Mrs. Ford said-and a little brown
hat with a scarlet wing and a white one. There
were soft, thick stockings of red and blue and
brown, and a pair of boots, and a pair of gloves.
Rachel laughed and danced, and cried at
last, for joy, and her mother cried with her.
The first thing in the morning the postman
brought a letter. That was an invitation for
Mrs. Ford and Rachel to take their Christmas
dinner with Mrs. Brooks. In fact, it seemed
as if there were no end of surprises that day,
for Mr. Brooks told Mrs. Ford while they were
at dinner that he could secure a position for
her to teach in the same school that Rachel
Lina and Rachel grew to love each other
dearly, and are fast friends this very minute.


(Matt. vi. 19-21.)

T HE Bible requires us to work, and work-
ing we make money, and we must not
throw that money away, but take care of it,
"lay it up" for the winter, a "rainy day," for
old age, for a time of need. Neglecting to do
this many people suffer, some starve or freeze.
They must not expect our Father in Heaven to
do for them what He expects them to do for
But this verse warns against laying up
treasures, not so much as something to be used
in time of need, but as treasures for the heart
to be set upon: i. e., to steal away one's affect.
tion from Christ: i. e., to become one's god!
The Kingdom of Heaven, not that of dollars,
must be within us-in the heart.

;--:~;~;::r::: ;:-:; 1-:I:-i~:~~""';:,::i;:r-1;-i




NE day Ann was in the pantry making
mince pies. She put raisins and spice
and sugar in them. She made little
stars and ferns on the crust. They
were very nice pies.
Two bright eyes were watching Ann while
she worked. They were the eyes of a little
gray mouse. He was hiding behind a can on
the shelf. He said to himself:
"U-h, um! What a good smell. We shall
see if I don't have some of those pies. Just
wait till to-night when all the folks are sound
asleep." So Mouse crept back into his hole
and took a long nap. Then he came out and
looked out of the pantry window. "Yes,"
he said, "night has come, I know, because the
sun has gone and the stars are in the sky. I


guess the folks have gone to bed. Now I will
look for the pies."
He knew the shelf where the pies were kept.
"Here they are," he said. "Hi! how good
they do smell. What a feast I shall have I
think I will invite some of my friends to sup-
per." So he ran around to the neighbors in
the woodshed and asked them. They were
very glad to come. One, two, three, four more

mice. They hurried back and they all got
around a nice big pie. They had taken just
one little nibble when the pantry door opened
and Ann came in with a light in her hand.
When she saw a lot of mice standing around
one of her best pies she just opened her mouth
and screamed.
"O-w oh! she said.
How those mice did scamper! The wood-
shed mice went home, and the pantry mouse
went back into his hole.
Ann took every one of those pies and carried-
them down cellar. Then she got a trap. She
put a nice little fresh piece of cheese in it and
set it on the shelf. After that she went out
and shut the door.
Mousey waited a long time. At last the
house was still. "I shall go by myself this
time," said this selfish little mouse. "I can't
be troubled running after the others."
Everybody was fast asleep. He slipped
softly out. The pantry was dark as a
pocket. Mousey thought the pies were
on the shelf yet, so he went sniffing
about trying to find them.
"I believe I smell cheese," he said.
"Cheese goes first-rate with pie." He
came a little nearer to the trap.
Yes, here it is, cheese! How nice!"
He put his head softly through the lit-
tle hole of the trap. Snap! went the
spring, and there' le was fast.
Poor Mousey! No more mince pie,
no more cheese for him.
In the morning Ann said, when she opened
the pantry door -
"There, that little scamp is caught, and I
am glad of it!"
She took the trap out and opened it, and
Mousey fell into a pail of water.
And that is the bad end to which a little
mouse came who tried to steal mince pies.



I __________________________________________________

_ __ ~_

r I







-,kANNY TALBOT'S face was nearly
Always bright, but on this Christmas
-:i.. morning there was an unusual sparkle
Sof pleasure in her eye as she tied on
the great work-apron which was so long for
her that it had to be tucked into the 'belt to
save her from falling
on it. Fanny was a '
dumpy little thing, I !!
shall have to confess -
"Almost as broad as
she was long," Aunt I
Erminasaid, and Fanny i
was silly enough to
shed some tears over ?
it. Besides, she looked
younger than she really I ;
was, which was also a I
source of grief to her.
"Nobody would sup-
pose to look at the child
that she was in her
thirteenth year." This
was also an opinion of
Aunt Ermina's, spoken
in a tone of strong dis-
approval; yet despite
it all, as I say, Fanny
was happy. She had
been away from home i
for more than a year;
not with Aunt Ermina,
but with dear "Auntie
Beth," who lived in a
town where there was
an excellent school- '' 1 Jll ''-li I
better, Auntie Beth
thought, than any other
in the world, and there-
fore the very place for
her precious niece, Fan- l
ny. "She is very young
to send away from I.' illi,:' li
home," Fanny's mother
had said, with a weary
sigh, "and I don't know what I shall do
without her," and then, with the unselfishness
of all mothers, because she lived in a mining

town, where there was no good school for her
darling, went quietly to work to get her ready.
That was in November. Fanny was surely to
come home in June, but the way was long, and
her uncle's plans for taking the journey fell
through, and Fanny could not go alone, and
the summer slipped away while they were wait-
ing; and, to make a long, weary waiting into

, l ii ,' ," i ., ', '.' 'I',l, -'i,'.,l.,', l', i'.,'.'.. l.


a short story, it was not till the day before
Christmas that Fanny saw home again.
"A whole year!" she said, drawing a long

*,,',z .2 ": ; : .. 1 ? ;v' '::: '" "-W: P b. U U ,-. ** lf W,,'' f .r : .. ':r *','


breath of mingled sadness and delight-dis-
may over the past, and satisfaction that the
long separation was over, and that she was at
home. An escort had been hastily found for
her at last, because her mother was sick, and
father felt sure she could not get well very
fast until her little daughter was with her.
Fanny found her just creeping back to health,
her cheeks still pale and her eyes weary-look-
ing, but "so much better," she had said cheer-
fully, when the tears came into' Fanny's eyes,
and then she had kissed her, and assured her
that she would certainly get well fast now.
But on this Christmas morning the mother had
looked troubled, and had sighed once or twice
before she said,-
I am sorry we cannot have a better Christ-
mas dinner, my darling, in honor of your home-
coming, than Susan can manage. She doesn't
know how to cook anything, not even a potato;
your father has had dreadful times all alone in
the dining-room, trying to eat such meals as
she has prepared. I would have tried to get
out to direct her about dinner, but your father
says it will not do."
"No, indeed," said Fanny; "but you are. to
come to the table, you know; that will be
dinner enough for father and me. Susan is
good-natured, I think."
"Oh! she is good-natured, and has been as
faithful as possible all through my sickness.
The only trouble with the girl is, she doesn't
know how to do things; no one has ever taught
her. Your father doesn't say much, and has
put as good a face as possible on the matter,
all through, but I know by the slops the poor
thing has brought to me, and the way they
have been served, how miserable everything
must be in the kitchen. In fact, I knew how
ignorant she was before I was taken sick, but
she was the best we could get," and the sen-
tence ended with another sigh.
Fanny's face did not look sympathetic-it
was even bright-though she said "poor
mother" in as comforting a tone as she co:,ll,
but in the next breath said, "What is she to
get for dinner?"
: Why, I told your father I thought with my
direction she could manage to slew a chicken.
He wanted to have a turkey, but of course that

was not to be thought of, and I'm afraid the
chicken ., 'i not be fit to eat, though 1 gave
her most careful directions. The trouble is,
the girl is not used to giving heed to directions,
and she listens good-naturedly, and then does
any way it happens. You and father must get
your Christmas out of one another this time,
and be as comfortable as you can. Mother
will soon be well enough to look after things,
I hope."
She could not help sighing a little as she
finished. She felt very weak, and the thought
of the dinner Susan would serve made her feel
weaker. I was hoping that your Aunt
Ermina would get home in time to look after
things a little for us," she said.
But Fanny's eyes were fairly dazzling as she
answered, I don't want to see Aunt Ermina
to-day. Don't worry about dinner; father and
I will do nicely, see if we don't." Then she
kissed this precious mother several times, and
asked her if she was sure she would not be
lonely if she left her all the morning, as she
had something very particular to do.. And
mother smiled on her and assured her that she
would do nicely alone until dinner-time, and
she hoped her daughter would go out and have
a good skate with the girls.
"Skate indeed!" said Fanny to herself, as
she tied on that big apron of her mother's, her
face all in a glow of pleasure. "I guess all
the skating I'll do to-day"- And then she
laughed, and ran in search of the good-natured,
slatternly Susan.
The truth was, that Fanny, though not yet
thirteen, and not tall enough to suit her Aunt
Ermina, had a wonderful secret which had
been stored up for ten long months, in order
to surprise her father and mother.
"It is so splendid that it should happen on
Christmas day," she told herself, her eyes shin
ing the while. "If I had known it would have
happened like that, I guess maybe I wouldn't
have grumbled so much about having to wait."
Certainly Fanny was happy; she was by no
means glad that her mother was sick and not
able to attend to the dinner, but since such
was the case, how very splendid it was to think
that the dinner, at least, need not suffer.
Stewed chickens," she repeated, with her


gleeful laugh, as she waited in the kitchen for
Susan's slow, clamping feet to ascend the cellar
stairs. "If there is anything I can do to per-
fection it is to stew chickens. If it had been
turkey I might have been a little bit nervous
over the first one done all alone, but chickens
- dear me!"
Now the secret is out. Fanny, short and
round as she was, had learned to cook.
Not merely to make a gingerbread, or a cus-
tard, or some simple dish of that character;
she had been regularly every afternoon for two
hours to a first-class cooking-school, and lis-
tened, and studied, and experimented, to her
heart's content. She is a born genius," had
Aunt Beth said, more than once, looking on in
astonished admiration as the child's deft fingers
concocted some dainty dish; but Fanny her-
self knew better.
"I have a kind of a knack for it," she ex-
plained gravely, "my teacher says so; but it is
because she has tried so hard to teach me and
I have tried so hard to learn that I know how,
after all; and, Aunt Beth, you know I can't
play the scales as the other girls can."
Aunt Beth laughed. "No," she said cheer-
fully, "you are not a musician, and I suppose
your Aunt Ermina will be disappointed, but I
think you will play very pleasantly for your
friends, for all that; and as for the time you
have taken from practice to learn this new
accomplishment, I believe your mother and
father will be delighted."
"I know they will," Fanny had answered
confidently. "Father thinks a young lady
who doesn't know how to cook is a disgrace."
For all that, she had not expected the honor
of managing the Christmas dinner.
She felt safe about that, but the question
was, could she manage Susan?
By the time that slattern appeared, she had
resolved on her method of attack.
"Susan, I've come to help; you don't want
to work all alone on Christmas day, I know,
and I can do ever so many things. What are
you going to have besides chicken? 0, Susan!
let us have squash; that goes so nicely with
chicken, and I know how to season it, and
-queeze it, and all those things; and mashed
potatoes, Susan. I have the loveliest new

masher, which makes the potatoes come out all
in little rings. Won't it be fun ?"
Susan looked at the glowing face and the
big apron, and plump hands and shining eyes,
and "allowed" that it would.
Self-sacrificing she was, too. She had felt in
a hurry, and had meant to get the dinner out
of the way as soon as possible, without the
trouble of mashed potatoes, or squash, or any
such nonsense; what was the use, when the
mistress was sick? But this was kind of a
lonesome Christmas to the little girl with her
mother sick, and if she wanted to play help,
and muss around the kitchen, what if it did
make lots more work? "It's all in a lifetime,"
said Susan to herself. Smothering the little
sigh over the extra hour or two which she was
going up, she declared with great heartiness
they two would "-git all the fun out of that
there dinner which it was possible to find in it."
And the work began. Before one o'clock
Fanny was tired but triumphant, and Susan
had learned several things. "Don't let's put
so much water on them at first," she had
begged, when Susan was preparing to drown
the chickens; "we can add a little from time
to time if it boils off, but I don't believe it will
if we keep them carefully covered, and they
will taste so much richer, you know."
Susan really did not know whether to laughi
or be respectful before so much knowledge, but
she compromised with a broad grin and a good-
natured "All right; have 'em jest according to
your notion, and let's see how it will come out."
By the time the great, juicy quarters of the
Spitzenberg apples came out whole with the
juice looking like maple syrup, and the squash
was almost as dry as flour, and seasoned to a
nicety, and the gravy for the chicken was
thickened without a lump, and the lightest and
smallest of cream biscuits were broken in two
and laid in rows about the platter ready for
the stewed chicken, and the potatoes curled
themselves in lovely brown waves over the
bright dish in which they were taken from the
oven, and the little sponge-cake cups of Char-
lotte Russe sat in tempting rows, waiting to be
served for dessert, Susan had decided the ques-
tion which had puzzled her at first, and was
almost lost in respectful admiration.


She was even betrayed once into the use of
a title of respect. "For the land's sake, Miss
Fanny, what don't you know?" This was
after Fanny had said, "Let me set the table,
Susan; I can leave these chickens now, and you
are tired; and I know exactly how to do it."
She had judged from the appearance of the
breakfast table that Susan knew exactly how
not to do it.
At last everything was complete, and the
triumphant, weary little maiden went to sum-
mon her mother to the dining-room. "How
rosy your cheeks are!" the mother said ad-
miringly. "Have you been skating, dear?"
"Not exactly, ma'am," and Fanny's face
sparkled with fun. "Motherie, how pretty
you look in that wrapper. Won't you please
to hurry just a little bit? Father has come in,
and there is something for your dinner which
will spoil by standing."
What fun it was! How utterly astonished
both father and mother looked at the sight of
the gracefully laid table, with squares of care-
fully cut bread placed in the fold of each fresh
napkin. What a marvel of perfection the
oyster stew was! How delicious mother said

the bit of breast of chicken tasted! How
heartily father ate, and how lavish was the
praise bestowed upon the rosy-cheeked little
fairy who had "evolved" all this comfort.
For of course it came out-had to be told in
answer to the eager questions poured upon her
--all the story of that busy winter, and the
sacrifice of chromatic scales to the proper
seasoning of chicken and squash.
"Scales!" said the hungry father, helping
himself to another spoonful of the mashed
potato; "don't mention them, if you please,
in comparison with this dinner; at least not to
a man who has been served for five weeks by
Susan Barker."
Fanny laughed merrily. "But Susan is real
good-natured," she said quickly; and, mother,
I think she will let me teach her a good many
I think she will," the mother said compla-
cently. "Judging from this effort, my little
daughter has learned not only how to do things,
but how to pleasantly show others. It is a
very great comfort, daughter; and as for the
.scales, there is time enough for them."




O OME of you have not yet learned where
that is. Let us find it. Look on the
map for the Caribbean Islands. Find
St. Vincent, which for some reason
always seems to be the easiest one to
find, then let your eye travel eastward until it
reaches Barbadoes. What do we know about
that island? Not much, I imagine. First, the
name. What does it mean, and why was it
chosen? Hard to answer. Probably it is the
Spanish word for a certain vine whose branches
run down and strike into the earth again.
When did the history of Barbadoes begin?
The first we really know about it is in 1605,
when a company of Englishmen from the good
ship Olive Blossom landed there, set up a
cross in honor of their visit, and cut the name
of James, King of England," on the bark of a
tree. Since then, if we had kept careful watch,
we might have known a good deal about the
Why am I calling your attention to it?
Because I want to tell you about a little negro
boy in one of its Sunday-schools. He is only
eight years old. One day he said to his teacher,
pointing to a new scholar with a look of aston-
ishment, not to say indignation, "Massa this
boy say he don't believe in any resurrection! "
"Poor fellow!" said the teacher. "But,
my boy, why do you believe in a resurrection?"
"'Cause the Bible say so."
"Are you sure of that?"
"O, yes, massa! Job say, I know that my
Redeemer liveth: and though after my skin
worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall
I see God.' And David say, I shall be satis-
fied when I awake in thy likeness.' And Jesus
say, 'He that believeth in me, though he were
dead, yet shall he live.' "
"My boy," said the teacher, surprised at the
little fellow's judgment and memory, "can you
show those words to your friend in the Bible ?"
Instantly the child seized his Bible and
turned rapidly to Job, to the Psalms, to John,
and pointed out the verses he had repeated.
The question for the Pansies is, How many
eight-year-old scholars in our Sunday-schools
in this country could do as well?


T HAT little mite of a creature, a little
larger than a spool of thread as she
appears in this picture, is worrying her bit of
a head and heart about poverty and wealth.
You see the room is very plain, very little
furniture, very little finery in that house, but
our small Primrose never would have thought
of their not being just as "well off" as others.
But this bit of a miss was one day invited out
to tea to a grand house, and her sharp eyes saw
the difference at a glance, and now her wee
heart is heavy, and she "wonders if they'll ever
be rich."
But she grew and she grew, her heart much
faster than her eyes so fast that one day she
read about the poor benighted heathen who
never knew of Christ, and her heart in a mo-
ment almost opened a wide door and took
them all in, millions and millions of them, took
them in in their sin and misery. And when
she was nearly or quite a young woman, what
think you? Our little Primrose, no longer a
wee thing as you see her there, woe-begone,
leaning against her mother, but tall, beautiful,
educated, our Primrose sets sail from New
York to be a missionary among the heathen
to make them rich as sons and daughters of
the King of Glory. "Primrose wonders no
more if she will ever be rich." C. M. L.

N the land of Moab, which, you remember,
was the home of Ruth before she left it
to go with her mother-in-law, there is living a
missionary from London, whose work it is to
sell Bibles to the people. They do not use
money to buy with, but flour. One morning
the missionary counted over his Bibles, and
found that he had fifty-four. But at evening
of that same day not a Bible was left, -and
every spare dish in his house was full of flour.
SThe people of Moab know more about the
true God than they did when Ruth's mother-
in-law went there to live. Do you suppose,
when they get their new Bibles, they sit down
as soon as they can and read the story of Ruth?
Perhaps you do not know that story your-
selves ? You will find it very interesting.

I--'. I -- / -I

ft ,j -


* I ,,,111ir'q ,"-
r- er

I,,,, I, I
I I Si f r -




ITA MATSUDA is her name.
Queer name for an American-girl,
did you say?
But she is not American, although
her eyes are as bright, her feet as swift and
her tongue as nimble as any of yours.
Kita was not using her tongue though, that
bright October afternoon. She was sitting in
a hammock under the shade of a large tree,
with a book in her hand.
The tree is in her father's garden. The
garden is in Osaka. Osaka is in Japan. And
the book? Guess.
It was the identical story some of you read
- perhaps that same October afternoon -
"Christie's Christmas." And she liked it just
as much as you did. She laughed when she
came to something funny, her eyes grew ear-
nest at the sober parts, and she almost held
her breath when Christie was on the cars all
Christmas day, and was so glad when she got
safely home to her nice supper.
No, the book is not printed in Japanese
characters. Kita can read English almost as
well as you can yourself.
Kita attends the mission school. Her teacher
is an American lady, and she takes great pains
to teach her pupils to read English. She buys
the "Pansy" books and reads aloud to them,
and sometimes lets them read by themselves
when they have learned their lessons well.
The Japanese girls think American girls are
queer, and their teacher has to answer a great
many questions about your dress and your
manners and way of speaking.
But Kita knows one thing exactly as you
know it. She has learned about the Father in
heaven, and that he sent his Son to save us.
She reads the same Bible, sings the same
hymns, and loves the same Saviour.
Kita's father has become a true Christian
too. He has family worship, but besides that
he takes little Kita upstairs every morning and
prays with her alone. He prays that she may
have a clear mind and learn her lessons well
that day, and that she may be kept from think-
ing bad thoughts or speaking rude, cross words.
Perhaps that is the reason Kita is growing to

be one of the sweetest girls in school, and why
she is so bright at her books.
One morning Kita was in a hurry. She
wished to get to school very early that morn-
ing to give a flower to her teacher before school
opened, and because she was in a hurry, she
wished her father would not pray with her
that morning. So she thought she would slip
off to school and he would not find her. She
picked her flower, and away she went as fast
as her feet could carry her. But something
seemed to whisper right in her heart, ""Kita,
Kita, what are you doing?"
She turned about quickly, and ran back as
fast as she went. The tears of sorrow and
shame were on her cheeks when she met her
father in the door.
"Why, what is the matter with my dear
child ?" he said, wiping away her tears.
Then Kita told him how naughty she had
Her father took her in his arms and kissed
her and said, "I forgive you, dear child, and
just so the Heavenly Father will take you in
his arms when you come to him and are sorry
for your sin."
Then he took her by the hand and they went
upstairs to pray, her father saying as he went,
"You see, my Kita cannot do well when she
runs away from God, not even one little, small


(Matt. vi. 25.)

T cannot be that God would give us think-
ing powers and then command us not to
use them.
"Take no thought," etc.
Suppose mother should not think about
bread-making, would the bread come miracu-
lously? No, no. One must think about these
things, and there is no wrong about that, but
the wrong comes in when we begin to doubt
our Heavenly Father, as we do when we "take
anxious thought," for that is the real meaning
of the word thought in the text.





HE kitchen was large and neat, and
i Miss Helen was always kind. Gustave
liked to be sent there with an armful of
wood, especially when Miss Helen was
at work, as she was this May morning.
Gustave lingered to watch the skillful knife
go around the apple she was pealing, at least
that was what he Was apparently lingering for,
but Miss Helen, who understood him pretty
well, as she glanced at his wistful face, was
sure that he wanted to ask a question.
Sit down, Gustave," she said, "and let us
have a little visit. You are not in haste?"
"No, ma'am," said Gustave; "I am pretty
near done with what Mr. Williams left me to
do, and after that he said I might whistle till
he got back."
Then suppose instead of whistling you talk
to me. How are you getting on nowadays?"
"Pretty well, ma'am," said Gustave; but he
spoke slowly, and the wistful look was still on
his face. He sat down on the edge of his chair
and waited for Miss Helen to say more. She
always seemed to know just what to say.
"Do you find it easy to be a soldier?"
"Not so very, ma'am-not in school. The
boys don't always like to have me around, you
know, and I don't know what to do with my-
self. Sometimes I'm mad about it," said Gus-
tave frankly.
"Don't like to have you around?" said Miss
Helen. "Why is that ? Don't you get on
well with the boys?"
"Not always. Sometimes they call me
names and make me feel mad inside, and I
have to run, or maybe I should knock them."
"O, I hope not! That would be the wrong
kind of fighting for a soldier under your Captain,
you know. What names do they call you?"
Gustave looked down, and the tears twinkled
in his big blue eyes. "You know, ma'am," he
said faintly.
"Why, Gustave, no, I'm sure I don't. I
thought you were good friends with the boys
in your school What names can they call
you? Don't you want to tell me?"
It is about father, you know," said Gustave,
blushing violently. "He sells whiskey, you

see, and the boys don't like it; and I don't
either, I'm sure, but it is not my fault nor
mother's, and they call him 'Old Rummie,'
and they say I'm the rum-seller's boy. I am,
I know, but I don't like to be told of it. My
father is not a drunkard, if he is a rum-seller,
but the boys say he will be. They say all rum-
sellers go to drinking after a while. Do you
think that is so, Miss Helen?"
Poor Gustave! his teacher's heart ached for
"Not all of them, Gustave," she said gently.
"I am sorry the boys are so thoughtlessly un-\
kind. It is not your fault, as you say, and
your father may become acquainted with Jesus
one of these days and be a soldier 'oo; then
you will have nothing to worry about."
But Gustave did not look encouraged.
"I don't know," he said sorrowfully, "father
does not seem to care about Jesus.- I'm afraid
he will not be a soldier; he does not like to
hear about him. He asks me questions about
the day school, and likes to have me know my
lessons, but when I try to tell him the Sunday
lesson he gets cross and says, 'No matter about
that.' Miss Helen, what do you think is the
reason why people do not all like to know
Jesus and follow him? You said it was the
only sure and happy way. Don't they all like
to be safe and happy? One day I asked my
father why, and he told me to be off and not
bother him with questions; and I saw he did
not like to be talked to about it, but I don't
understand why."
"Gustave, have you studied your lesson for
next Sunday?"
"A little, ma'am. I read the story and
learned two verses, and found where the place
is on the map. That's as far as I've got yet."
"And do you remember the verse which
says, They forsook all and followed Him' ? "
"Yes, ma'am; that's one of the verses I
Well, I think it answers your question
better perhaps than any words of mine could.
People do not like to 'forsake all' to follow.
Jesus, and many think they would have to do
it, so they are held back."
"But, ma'am," said Gustave eagerly, "that
is not true, is it? You said He did not want


people to leave one thing that is good; that
IHe liked to have them glad and happy, and
would help them to be happier than before."
Which is all true, Gustave, every word.
He doesn't want them to forsake any good
thing. But sometimes people make money out
of bad things, and they like to make money
and are not willing to stop, though they know
that Jesus asks them to. Such people do not
want to hear about him, and try to make them-
selves think they do not believe what he says."
Gustave was silent, and looked more troubled
than ever. After a while he asked timidly,-
"What business is bad and ought to be given
up, Miss Helen?"
"Think, Gustave. Don't you know of any
business that makes people poor and cross and
stupid, and the more they have to do with it
the worse they get?"
"Do you mean selling liquor, Miss Helen?"
Have I described a part of what liquor
does for people?"
"Yes'm, I think you have. Some people
are made so by drinking it."
"Then can it be right to drink it?"
"O, no, ma'aml but my father doesn't drink
hardly any. Sometimes he doesn't drink a bit,
and he never staggers like old Pete Smith."
"No, he doesn't drink enough for that; but,
Gustave, can it be right for him to give others
what will make them cross and ugly?"
"But, ma'am, he doesn't make them drink
it. They come to him and want it and pay
him for getting it for them."
"True; does that make it right, Gustave?
Suppose I should give you a knife, with which
you went home and killed your mother, know-
ing when I gave it that you would be likely to
use it for some such purpose ? "
"O, Miss Helen! you wouldn't do that!"
"But suppose I should ? People do wicked
things, sometimes. For the sake of our argu-
ment, supposed I should sell you a knife for
such a purpose--would that make it right?"
"No, ma'am, it wouldn't, and I see what
you mean. Then you think it is wicked for
my father to sell beer ?"
"The question is, Gustave, not what I think
but what you think."
Gustave was silent for a few moments; then

he drew a long sigh and produced another argu.
ment. "But, Miss Helen, people would sell it
if he didn't, so what difference does it make?"
"Other people would steal Mr. Proctor's
chickens to-night--some people did last night
-wouldn't it make any difference whether
Gustave Smicht did it? Could you be a soldier
of Jesus and do anything that you knew was
making sin in the worlds, no matter how many
others were doing it?"
"No," said Gustave, after a few troubled
moments. In his distress he forgot to say
"No, ma'am." Evidently he understood just
whither his own conclusions were leading him.
"Then you see where a great deal of the
trouble lies. -I don't think, my boy, that your
father will ever be a soldier of Jesus so long
as he has his present business. You know
about conscience, Gustave ? The consciences
of people tell them that Jesus does not approve
of such a business, and really honest people
shrink from hearing anything about him while
they are doing what he does not want done."
Silence, then another question :
"Miss Helen, then why do people who are
soldiers of Jesus buy beer of father, and help
along his business, and why do they rent him
a store to do such business in, and why do they
sign his papers and help him to get started?"
I don't know," said Helen, pealing apples
very fast, the glow on her face growing deeper.
" You must ask them if you want to find out,
for I really cannot tell you why it is so."
Gustave waited, his anxious eyes studying
his oracle's face. Was it possible that she had
no explanation of this painful puzzle? Nothing
that would give him a hint by which to reach
his father?
The glow on her cheeks did not fade, but
there came, presently, a softer light in her
eyes, and she looked up at the waiting boy and
"Some things are hard to understand, Gus-
tave," she said, "but you and I know two
things-the Lord Jesus Christ is the king of
this world, and we are his servants; and some
day he will reign here in all hearts, and right
all wrongs, and explain all puzzles. Suppose
you and I trust him, and work hard to bring
his kingdom in?" PANSY.



RE you acquainted with a family of
birds named Barn Martins? I have
heard of a wicked bit of work of theirs
-so wicked, I can hardly believe it; yet
the gentleman who tells the story can
be depended upon as speaking the truth.
It seems that a young couple not long ago
selected a. certain barn in the State of Penn-
sylvania in which to build their house. They
built a lovely home, with a door in the side,

that, for try as they would the Barn Martins
could not get him out of their house.
They used every means at their command
and failed. Had the story stopped here, what
sympathy we could have had for the Barn
Martins. But I am sorry to tell you that,
smarting under a sense of wrong, their evil
passions entirely got the better of them; they
brought mud and plastered it over the little
door in the side of the house, working with such
speed that before the sparrow realized what was
going on, he was a prisoner for life, walled in


according to their usual habit, but before they
had set up housekeeping an English sparrow
deliberately moved in while they were away
one afternoon, and refused to come out. I say
nothing for the English sparrow; it was a clear
case of glaring dishonesty on his part, of
course, and the boldest kind of dishonesty at

to the home he had stolen. Terrible, isn't it?
Wouldn't you suppose their happiness for life
would be destroyed that is, if they have con-
sciences. Who knows? All I am sure of is,
that they have set to work exactly next door to
the walled-up house and built again, and are
living there in apparent happiness. PANSY.





~ 1

t.; Ze;~:,!



T was a lovely home. Miss Ellis
thought this, as she had many
times before. She slackened her pacet
as she neared the house, and went
slowly up the broad stone steps; she
dreaded to be shown in. She won-
dered what words there were to fit the hour.
A heavy sorrow had shut down on the home
since she last visited it. Her favorite scholar
in Sabbath-school, Ellie Westwood, lived here,
but Miss Ellis knew that at this moment in a
closed and darkened room, Ellie's father lay in

Grandma say that there was comfort in the
Bible for every sorrow, but it made mine all
the worse. Don't you think the book opened
of itself, papa's Bible! to the story of the
.young man being carried to the grave, and
Jesus met them and stopped the procession and
said, 'Young man, I say unto thee arise.' Oh!
if he were only here now, he could just speak
papa's name and he would answer right away!
The young man did, you know; sat up and
began to speak. Papa loved Jesus, and would
have obeyed his voice. 0, Miss Ellis! how
can I bear it?" And once more Ellie buried
her face in her hands in.a flood of tears.


his coffin, waiting to be taken to his resting
place, in the hillside cemetery.
Poor Ellie! she loved her father even more
than girls of her age often do; and as she
threw herself into her teacher's arms, and gave
way to a fresh burst of grief, it seemed to her
for a moment, that her heart must break.
"0, Miss Ellis!" she said at last, between
the sobs, "I tried to get some help this after-
noon out of the Bible. I have often heard

"Dear Ellie," Miss Ellis said, in a low,
soothing voice, after waiting a few moments
for the poor girl to grow more quiet; "you for-
get; you spoke as though that dear Friend
was far away, when he is close beside you, and
knows all about it. Do you realize that he has
spoken to your papa, called him by name, and
directed him to come home to the place which
has been long waiting? He wanted him in
heaven, Ellie dear, not on earth any more.

i- ;i


Your papa heard his voice, and was too glad
to obey."
"Oh! but," said Ellie, sobbing still, though
more quietly, "it is so different. He gave the
young man back to his mother, and she heard
his voice again, and I suppose he walked home
by her side and took care of her, and mamma
has no one now."
"I know He did, dear; for some good reason
known to Him, He wanted that young man to
live longer on the earth -perhaps he was not
ready for heaven. But He wanted your father
to go to his inheritance. I suppose He has
some blessed work for him to do there, before
it is time for mamma to go. He certainly
knows all about it, dear, and has planned it in
the best way possible, both for papa and you;
cannot you trust Him?"
The sobs which had shaken the young girl's
form grew less and less violent, and at -last,
though she cried still, it was in a quiet way.
The passionate outburst of grief was evidently
over for the time.
Miss Ellis had drawn the brown head to her
shoulder, and while she held her with one arm,
with the other hand she gently smoothed back
the disordered waves of hair from her fore-
head. After a few moments of silence she
spoke again.
"Ellie dear, papa is safe at home, where
nothing can ever trouble him any more; do
you think you could turn your thoughts from
him to one who is not safe, and not happy, and
needs oh! so much to hear the voice of Jesus
calling to him to arise'?"
"You mean Bert," said Ellie. "0, Miss
Ellis! if something could be done for Bert."
"There can be," said Miss Ellis firmly.
"Perhaps, Ellie, God called your papa home
just at this time in order to help your brother
to hear the voice that is calling him. Papa
doesn't need your prayers any more, Ellie, but
Bert is in great need. Can't you help him,
can't you carry him on your heart to this
Jesus who is as ready to-day as he was when
he met the young man by the gates of Nain,
and beg him to speak to your brother in such
a way that he will hear? And is there nothing
else that you can do to help your brother at
this time?"

"I'll try, Miss Ellis," said the little girl,
raising herself up to kiss her teacher's check.
"You have helped me so much! I did not
think of papa as at home in heaven; I could
only think of him as dead, and it almost seemed
to me as though Jesus were dead, too. I'll try
as hard as I can to help Bert."
Miss Ellis walked away from the grand
house, a little more hopeful than she had been
when she entered it. Perhaps she had been
able to do some good; if her words had helped
Ellie any she was thankful. But her heart
was heavy over the "only son" of this widow.
Young, handsome, well-educated, and getting
to be what people called "wild," getting more
and more under the influence of the elegant
up-town saloon, with its high license, and its
elegant bar, and costly wines. Would he listen
to the voice of power before it was too late?
Miss Ellis dreaded the funeral; dreaded to
meet Ellie again, and listen to her outbursts
of sorrow, but she need not have been afraid,
Ellie was very quiet. She cried a good deal
of the time, it is true, but always softly, and
held her little sister's hand, and looked after
her with almost a mother's care, and once she
actually smiled on Miss Ellis when she caught
her eye; such a brave, pitiful little smile, it
was sad, almost more pathetic than tears; but
after all it encouraged Miss Ellis. Jesus had
evidently helped to comfort this little girl.
Later, on that same trying day, the teacher
went to try to make the desolateness of the
house a little less hard to bear. Ellie met her
in the hall, and from behind the tears shone a
smile. "0, dear Miss Ellis!" she said, "I
have something to tell you; something which
ought to make me happy, even to-day. Don't
you think Bert has heard His voice! We
have been having a long talk, and he says he
promised papa he would be a different man
from this time, and that he went down on his
knees beside papa's coffin and promised Jesus
that he would serve him forever. Miss Ellis,
don't you think papa is glad about it in
"I am sure of it," said Miss Ellis, kissing
her. "You see, Ellie darling, it is the same
Voice still, and has proved its power once
more." PANsY.

- t ^.^w ,. ,'-w ;.




? AMMA calls everybody to see my
two pretty pink feet. She kisses them
and says they are sweet little footsie
tootsies; and then she goes and covers them
up with little ugly woolly things she calls
I don't like socks. My feet are pretty; I do
think my ten toes are real cunning. I like
to play with them, and I do not want them
bundled up in socks. I made up my mind at
first that I would not wear socks. I told
mamma so, but she doesn't seem to know what
I mean.
It does seem as if all the folks in this house,
mamma and grandma and auntie and nurse,
just live on purpose to keep my socks on.
Everybody who takes me up goes to fumbling
after my feet the first thing. They always
find my socks off, and they always put them
on again.
Foolish people! They don't know that I
just rub my feet together hard and give them
a little toss, and off come the old socks quick
as a wink, the minute after they have tied
them on. I am glad I wear long dresses. It
is very hard work kicking them off so much.
I am tired out some days, they keep me so
busy. Then I get cross and they think I have
a pain.
Grandma is the worst one. She is always
after my feet. She feels of them and says,
"Mary, this child's feet are cold as ice"--
Mary is my mamma. Then she toasts them at
the fire.
It doesn't feel good to me, but I have to
lie and take it. I wonder if Grandma would
like to have her bare feet turned up to some
live coals?
One day nurse tied my socks very tight. I

could not get them off. They hurt me, and I
cried all day. Mamma thought I was sick.
She gave me some catnip tea, and then she
sent for the doctor. He left some funny little
pills. He told them to give me two every
hour. They were good, but my feet hurt just
the same.
I did not feel easy until they took off those
hateful socks. Then mamma said, "That medi-
cine is doing the darling good." It is queer
how much big folks don't know.
My socks don't get tied tight any more.
Grandma saw the bright red streaks the strings
made on my feet that day, and she 'tends
to it now.
But we just go on, they putting the socks on,
and I kicking them off, and I suppose it-will
always be so till I grow up. Then I'm sure I
shall go barefoot.


H ARK! the hours are softly calling,
Bidding spring arise,
To listen to the rain drops falling
From the cloudy skies;
To listen to earth's weary voices,
Louder every day,
Bidding her no longer linger
On her charmed way,
But hasten to her task of beauty
Scarcely yet begun.

O N many a green branch swinging,
Little birdlets singing,
Warble sweet notes in the air.
Flowers fair there I found,
Green spread, the meadow all around.
From "Spring Song of Germany.


1, _. _------

---Ii~--~_ --I



S WRITER in the St. Nicholas tells the
a story of a narrow escape of Stanley's
in Africa. He was one day making
notes in his book, when a company of
savages came down the river in their canoes,
long spears in their hands, and with fierce looks
and savage mutterings approached Mr. Stanley.
The moment he saw them he spoke the word
"Sen-nen-neh!" which in their language means
"peace." But they lookedfierce and angry. At
last the chief spoke for them: "If white man
wishes peace, why does he try to bewitch us?"
Stanley assured them that he had not such a
thought; that he and his men had laid down
their swords and wanted to be treated as guests,
and to be friends. But the chief spoke again:
rhe stranger's words are not straight! Did
we not see him making spells of witchcraft
against us, and drawing them on the magic
charm that he carries with him?"
In an instant, Stanley understood that it was
his note-book which had made them angry.
The chief assured him that if he meant to be
"fair" with them he must throw his magic
work into the fire near by, then they would
treat him as a brother. This was hard for Mr.
Stanley. His notes were very important; he
had spent long, weary months and years in
gathering the knowledge written there. Sud-
denly a bright thought came to him. He had
a pocket volume of Shakespeare which looked
much like the offending note-book. He drew it
out, asking if that was the charm they wished
him to burn. A hundred voices answered it
was, and the chief once more assured him that
if he would burn it, before their eyes, he and
his men should have food and be cared for.
There was a blazing fire close at hand, into
which Mr. Stanley at once flung the book.
The savages watched it burn in silence for a
moment, then broke into a yell of delight.
The thing they feared was gone. They rushed
forward to welcome their "white brother," and
brought fruit and fish and all the dainties of
the island for him.
Mr. Stanley lost his volume of Shakespeare,
but his precious notes were saved, and given
1tI the world. PANSY.


/MANY men have trusty watch-dogs, but
the banker represented in the Pall
uaall Gazette seems to possess a canine curiosity
that is faithful almost to the verge of being
morbidly conscientious: -
"An Austrian banker lately went to Vien 8
on business. He arrived in the evening, trav
eling with a large, handsome dog. The two
put up at a hotel, and next morning the gentle-
man went out, bidding care to be taken that
his dog did not stray from the house. The
chamber-maid went to make up the banker's
room. Bruno was very pleased to see her,
wagged his huge tail, licked her hand, and
made friends thoroughly until, her business
being, done, she was about to leave.' Not so.
Bruno calmly stretched himself full length be-
fore the door. He explained, as perfectly as
possible, that 'he knew his duty.' No one
should leave his master's room in his absence.
When the girl tried to pull the door open suffi-
ciently, he growled, showed his teeth, and
finally held her fast.
"The woman's -screams brought another
maid, and yet another, and then in succession
all the waiters. Bruno was glad to let them all
in, but he allowed no one to go out. The room
became pretty well crowded, and every bell in
the house, meantime, rang, while the walls
echoed cries of 'Waiter! waiter!' Finally the
lady who kept the hotel appeared, and pushed
her way irately into the room, asking angrily,
as she walked in, what sort of picnic they were
all holding here. Bruno let her in, too, but not
out again -O, no! When the lady's husband
appeared, she called him loudly, telling him
to keep outside, to send messengers scour-
ing the city for the banker, and meantime to
endeavor to pacify the angry customers down-
"That Austrian banker was a welcome man
when he arrived."- Selected.

IN point of population the sexes are about
equal in the United States, but in church mem-
bership two thirds are females, and of sixty
thousand penitentiary inmates fifty-five thou-
sand are men.


w~~---;;-~rrw; .r ;ri -.. - -- ~- -- .W -h;- 5*-n;V -'irs: ~-i Ii; -;-:~ -: *.~;:;: .




T was a warm, pleasant spring
morning. A little hen that lived
.in a big barn on the hill thought
she would take a walk all by herself.
The barn-door stood wide open, so
she stepped out.
First she went into the orchard and picked
about in the fresh grass. She found some new
bugs and worms. Then she flew up on the
fence and looked down the road.
That's a nice little path in the grass by the
roadside," Hen-pen said to herself. "I wonder
what is at the foot of the hill? I mean to find
She looked behind her to see if anybody
was coming, then down she flew. What a
nice. smooth path! Hen-pen was very hap-
py walking along in the sweet' air singing a
little song.
Pretty soon Hen-pen came to a brook.
She saw two boys sitting on a green bank,
fishing, but she did not stop; she took a drink
and went on.
By and by she got to the foot of the hill,
and there she saw a wee house among the trees.
Hen-pen was tired. She thought she would go
and rest in the shade a few minutes, so she

slipped under the fence. She went around to
the back of the house. The woodshed door
stood open; Hen-pen stepped softly in.

She slpied a round basket in the corner half-
full of chips.
"What a pretty nest that would make!"
said Hen-pen, and into the basket she got and
sat down.
A poor old woman lived alone in this little
house. She was lame, and had to walk with a
cane. She got
up late that d
morning, be-
cause she did .
not sleep well.
When she
was dressed she
went to the
wood shed to
get some chips
to boil her tea-
Hen-pen had e R. TP'S T KloTTTLE.
gone home half an hour ago. But what was
in Mrs. Kip's chip basket? A pretty white
warm egg!
Now Mrs. Kip had nothing in the house for
breakfast but some dry bread and butter. She
was just wishing she had a nice fresh egg, and
here it was.
She was very glad. She boiled it and ate it,
and it was good.
"If I ever find out whose hen it is," said
good Mother Kip, "I will pay them for that
Hen-pen came every day for a long timle'
after that and left an egg in the pretty basket
for Mrs. Kip's breakfast.

A NEw pair of shoes came home for little
five-year-old. He tried them on, and finding
that his feet were in very close quarters, ex-
claimed: "0, my! they are so tight I can't
wink my toes."



E went out to some cold springs not far
from here one summer and I saw a long
pile of stones that some folks said was
the grave of a very big man who used
to sit on the top of a steep hill with his feet
reaching to a 'pond in the valley. One day a
woman was bathing in the water and she began
ito drown, when he without leaving his high
seat reached down his hand and rescued her,
and after doing many other great performances
like this they say he died and was folded up
seven times and buried, and yet his grave was
fifteen feet long. Some of the Turks that go
there tie rags on the bushes near the grave to
cure their diseases. One day I saw some men
come and put stones on the grave, so it becomes
longer and higher every year,
One winter in the city not long ago papa was
returning from school with a magnet in his
hand when he met the Secretary of the Board
of Education of Sivas, who is a Turk. Papa
took his knife and rubbed it on the magnet a
few times, and showed him that it would pick
up a needle. A few days afterwards, the Sec-
retary meeting a Greek who had just received
a large invoice of knives, the following dialogue
took place:
Turk. Any of your knives English?
Greek. 0, yes! most all of them.
Turk. Bring. us some needles; let's try
Greek. What do needles have to do with
them ?
Turk. Why, of course if it's genuine English
it will pick up needles.
Greek. No knife will pick up needles.
Turk. It won't, eh? look at mine. You
haven't got a single English knife among your
whole lot.
Saying this the Turk left in apparently great
disgust. A few days afterwards he happened
around again at the store and found the Greek
still in great distress.
"Secretary Effendim," he said, "those Eng-
lish at Constantinople haven't even the shadow
of a conscience. I paid an extra high price to
get knives warranted English. Now here I
have more than twenty liras worth of this

bogus trash that nobody wants to buy. Where
will I find bread for my wife and children
this. year? There's no end to the woes of a
merchant in Turkey."
The Secrethry had to confess immediately,
and the Greek was changed for a while into
the happiest man in this city of fifty thousand
Last year I got thirty-seven people to sign
the temperance pledge, all but one of whom
signed the tobacco pledge too.
1 send my love to you.
Your loving reader,


(1 Corinthians x. 13.)

THAT God is faithful, well I know,
Since all my life has proven so;

And never have I suffered more
Than He could know whom I adore.

Temptation oft has been my foe,
But such as common is below;

While God the Father has not let
Me perish in my sufferings yet.

For my escape, His kindly way
Deserves my gratitude each day.

So in this, His own holy morn,
I bless His name, whose Son was born

To cleanse me from my guilt and sin,
My soul unto Himself to win.

Be unto God my whole intent,
My life with him forever spent.

A special note of praise I sing
While here His help remembering.

And may His love possess my soul,
So that I be in His control

Until within the realms of light
I gain new voice, new song, new might.
HAZEL WYLDE, in Homze Guardian.




A CHINAMAN who has become a Chris-
tian asked one of the missionaries how
many ministers there were in his country. The
missionary, curious to know what his judgment
would be, told him the number of people who
lived in his country (the missionary was from
England), and asked him to guess.


"Well," said the Chinaman, "it is a little
country; I guess there are fifteen hundred."
"No," said the missionary, "you are wrong.
There are twenty-three thousand."
The reply was, Why, you can afford a thou-
sand missionaries for China, as well as not."


S7H' HIS picture carries us back into the
c. dark days of persecution and pain in
S Spain. What tears were shed and
what groans were heard within those
prison walls--tears and groans of
Christians-no living person knows. Ah! if
those walls, those dungeons, could speak, what
a sad story they would tell.
"Why did those children of God
suffer such torture on the rack?"
Because they would not give up
their faith for that of their ene-
mies. "They loved not their lives
unto the death." (Rev. xii. 11.)
They laid down their best gift
"for Jesus' T e." That was their
Whisper Motto, to which they
were so true when the trying hour
came. What that -you prize so
highly, are you ready to give up
for his dear sake?
But those dark days of persecu-
Lion and death are about gone
from -the earth, and most people
may now worship God according
to the dictates of their conscience.
Don't think we need fear that
our faithfulness to Jesus will ever
tost us our lives.
And in heathen lands, whither
Sour missionaries are going and
preaching On earth peace, good-
v'll to man, and glory to God
in he highest," wars and cruelty
are passing away.
Hua'qnds are not selling their
wives irto slavery, fathers are
not delivering up their children
to shame &ud< pain as once. And
when, oh! v'ben the heathenism
of the saloon and strong drink
passes away-as it surely will "in
the good time coming what a song of angels
there'll be, and rejoicing on the e.rth. What
are you and I doing to bring it about ? C.

A Christian is a man who is restoring God'9
likeness to his character. Robertson.

* -k


(!Ky / ,^.>/-,i *- -,

I -



(Matt. vi. 22, 23.)

SINGLE," fixed steadily upon one object, as
when the rope-dancer fixes his eye, not
upon the confusing people, but upon some ob- su
ject on the wall. So one must look steadily to th
Jesus. if
The eye is the body's guide. Suppose it be as

.. "

.. 0

.. : ....4,

unsteady or diseased or blind, what a calamity
to the poor body.
So the soul is for our light; what if it be
wicked or not steadily fixed upon Jesus-upon
Bible truth? I-ow much more mischief this
would bring than mere eye blindness.
Let us pray Jesus, who is the Light of the
world, to lead us into all truth, to lead us to
think, speak, do and feel right.
Are you aiming to have a conscience void of
ftl...- toward God and man? C. M. L.


AN'T you see something more in
those pictures of nature than beauty
and wonder? Can't you hear groans
and wails, not only of those frightened,
offering animals, but of very Nature herself ?
e very hills and valleys s.'iirj, moaning as
some terrible thing had torn them apart,
tears the eagle the lamb, leaving wide
wounds gaping and gushing with
S their own gore! When they cruci-
Sfled Jesus the very rocks rent, and
so the storms, the earthquakes, the
rumbling thunder, the cyclones,
with the' earth and -sea roaring;
altogether, is not creation groaning
over something that has happened
-is going on now-

"The loss of Eden
And all its woe "?

In other words, sin has wrecked
creation, and like a once beautiful
and noble ship, it now lies among
S the rocks, the wild waves dashing
against and over it.
But the time is near, we hope,
when the Master will speak as he
once spoke to stormy Galilee -
"Peace, be still"--and there will
be a great calm the wide world
over, and wildness, wickedness and
wars will cease. Then "the lion
and the lamb will lie down together
and a young child shall lead them."
Instead of the opening picture it
will be more like the one last
ow-n you.
When the kingdoms of this world become
e kingdom of our Lord and his Church,
antion's groans will cease-rather will be a
ghty hallelujah of praise to our God.
Toward all this our missionary work moves.
How much are we pushing? C. M. L.

IT is the little things that make the world's
tory and fix the destiny for eternity.



IFTY years ago more or less- there
lived in the State of Vermont a wee
girl whom we will call Rebecca.
One day her sister came home from
the primary Sunday-school class with
a missionary paper, and handed it to Rebecca
to see the pictures. They were pictures of
heathen people in Africa. And there were
interesting stories about these heathen telling
how ignorant they were of God and Jesus, the

those far-away, awful folks? I'm only a child,"
she reasoned -",nly a girl and sick besides
in bed."
So she cast the question away, thinking it
was not for her to answer.
But some days after, when she was up and
dressed, the same little question came and stood
before her and said, "Here I am. Can't you
do something with me? I've been waiting
about for you to speak to me."
So Rebecca fell to thinking again what she
should say to this questioner. She said not a


Saviour. And one of the stories ended with
the question, "What Sunday-school child will
make ready to go to teach these blind people
about God's love in sending his dear Son to
die for them?"
Now these pictures and stories set Rebecca
to thinking, and that question seemed to look
her right in the face for an answer.
But she said to herself, "What can I do for

word, but just kept on thinking till her tired
head sank upon the lounge, and she fell fast
Here she is, you see.
As she slept, she dreamed of-

The heathen in their blindness
Bow down to wood and stone."

Again she thought the queer bit of a ques-

.r-7Frv17U ~ 7 T~ -~


tioner stood there, saying, "Who will go, and
whom shall I send?"
And while she wondered she almost thought
she heard:

"Shall we, whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Shall we fo men benighted
The lamp of life deny?"

Awaking from the strange dream, she sought
her mother and told it all, and her mother hid
it away in her heart, wondering if, like dear
Samuel, her darling had been called of the
Lord to a great work.
On and on rushed the years. Rebecca was
now a young woman, and in her heart was
Jesus, and one day she said to him, "Here am
I, send me."
Now there had lived in her neighborhood a
dear boy, whom we will call Isaac. They had
met often at school and played together, and
once and again Isaac had walked home with
Rebecca to assist her through the snow, and as
they walked on they talked, and once Rebecca
told Isaac her queer dream, and about the
heathen. This set Isaac to thinking; and so,
though it was cold, they stopped and thought.
Now they were both grown up. Isaac came
home from the theological seminary for his
vacation. And his minister had him preach
for him that Sabbath, and as he preached all
that were in the house saw that his heart was
set upon being a missionary.
The next year he finished his studies in the
seminary and came home, and--he and Rebecca
went away off among the Zulus of Africa as
missionaries. But they were now Mr. and Mrs.
Isaac -.
Every one said, "Poor Rebecca, she is so
frail and sickly, she'll soon die in that bad
"Did she die?"
Not till after she had done so much for the
blind heathen, leading many of them into the
Light of God; not till she had been many,
many years the brightest, dearest companion of
Isaac as he preached and taught this people
from house to house; not until she saw her
own darling sons and daughters growing up to
take her place.

After that--only two years ago--she fell
asleep again in the arms of Jesus.
A few days ago I saw dear "Isaac" and one
of the lovely daughters here in Florida at
Winter Park, and I heard him preach a won-
derful sermon about these Zulus, and the daugh-
ter played, and sang in the Zulu language.
And now while I write they are sitting near
the seashore or on the bank of the Indian River
at Rock Ledge, Fla., thinking of Zululand, and
wishing to go back there again.
And "Isaac" is really and truly Rev. Dr.
Tyler. When you read this, they will be in
St. Johnsbury, Vt. C. M. L.


E RE you left your room this morning,
Did you think to pray?
In the name of Christ our Saviour,
Did you sue for loving favor
As a shield to-day ?

When you meet with great temptations,
Do you think to pray? -
By His dying love and merit,
Do you claim His Holy Spirit
As your guide and stay?

When your heart was filled with anger,
Did you think to pray?
Did you plead for grace, my brother,
That you might forgive another
Who had crossed your way?

When sore trials came upon you,
Did you think to pray?
When your soul was bowed with sorrow,
Balm of Gilead did you borrow
At the gates of day? Selected.

As the word of God, well studied, will help
us to understand his providence, so the provi-
dence of God, well observed, will help us to
understand his Word, for God is every day
fulfilling the Scripture.


*1. -





AVE you read the story of the little
boy who boasted that he could learn
any verse in the Bible in five minutes?
The New York Christian Advocate
tells about him.
It seems he won a prize in Sunday-school for
learning the greatest number of verses in a
certain length of time. He showed so much
vanity about it that the pastor concluded to
give him a little lesson. After he had proudly
declared that he could learn any verse in the
Bible in five minutes, he was given a verse and
sent into a corner by himself to learn it, the
minister engaging to time him.
The following is the verse:
"Then were the king's scribes called at that
time in the third month, that is, the month
Sivan, on the three and twentieth day thereof;
and it was written according to all that Mor-
decai commanded unto the Jews, and to the
lieutenants, and the deputies, and rulers of the
provinces which are from India unto Ethiopia,
an hundred and twenty-seven provinces, unto
every province according to the writing thereof,
and unto every people after their language, and
to the Jews according to their writing, and
according to their language."
It is said that the poor vain boy after one
hour's effort failed in reciting the verse
I suppose it helped to teach him a much-
needed lesson; still, after all, do you think it
was quite fair?
Moreover, if he had only known how to
study, and had had a reasonably good memory,
even a verse of that kind need not have taken
an hour: Try it, Pansies, and see how long it
will take you to memorize it, after you have
carefully analyzed it.
What do I mean by that? Why, try what
shape you can get it into, which will aid your
memory. What does the verse say? -What
facts does it give you? How many facts are
there in it ? This for a hint; you do the rest.

Do thy little, or do thy much,
For the Maker loveth such.


F ROM Africa, the home of the first civi-
lized nation of the world-the Egyptians
--comes cheering words. Explorers, travelers
and navigators have made valuable contribu-
tions to the geography and history of this
country, but to the zealous, earnest worker in
the Master's cause, has been given the blessed
opportunity of promoting a greater work than
was ever before undertaken. And this not in
one benighted land. Wherever the need is
manifest thither are the sturdy ones going.
An exchange says:
"Nothing was known of the interior of the
Dark Continent until within a few years; now
Africa is girded with Christian missions. Thirty-
four missionary societies are at work, and all
its 200,000,000 souls are practically within the
reach of Christian ministers. Thirty-three
societies have begun work in China, and all
its 850,000,000 souls may be visited with the
message of the Gospel. More than fifty socie.
ties have entered India, and the light is dawn-
ing on its 250,000,000. Turkey and Persia and
Japan are filling with mission churches and
schools. Practically, the whole world is open,
and the grandest day of opportunity for the
kingdom of God that the earth has ever seen
has fully dawned."

AT the end of 1887 there were 38 mission-
ary societies represented in China by
1,030 missionaries, of whom 489 were men and
221 were single ladies. There were 175 native
ordained ministers and 1,316 unordained helpers,
31,290 communicants, 13,777 pupils in schools,
and the contributions by native Christians
amounted to $38,136.70. The increase over
the preceding year was, of missionaries includ-
ing men and women, 111, or over 11 per cent.;
of communicants, 4,268, or over 121 per cent.;
and of contributions, $19,862.14, or over 100
per cent.
Last year the Chinese Christians, in their
extreme poverty, doubled their contributions
to every benevolent work. Do not they set a
noble example to their brethren in this more
favored land ? Missionary Review.




Sold bird was teaching her children to
fly, one day.
We will go to the top of that
barn," said mother-bird. "Now all ready!"
and away they went.
One poor birdie, as he stood on the edge of
the nest, fell down. Aunt Mary found him on
the ground under an orange-tree. She took
him into the
house and
got a little
Basket, and
i made a nice
Sbed in it for
\ <. birdie, and
put him into
it. Then she
., 1.' brought a
~f bottle of lini-
ment and
some rags
and did up his hurt leg. After that she gave
him some supper, and birdie soon fell asleep.
In the morning he felt better, but he could
not move his leg. He had to lie on his bed a
long time. But Aunt Mary was kind to him.
She spread a clean white sheet upon his bed
every day, and fed him bread and milk and
sweet berries, and she gave him a name, too;
she called him Tip.
One morning when Tip woke up the sun was
shining on him. He felt so well and happy he
hopped right out of his bed, and when Aunt
Mary came down he was walking about the
And now Tip follows Aunt Mary all about
the house. When she works in the kitchen he
stands on the window sill and sings to her, for
he has learned to sing pretty songs now.

Sometimes he is a naughty little rogue.
When they are eating breakfast he flies upon
the table and steals the biggest strawberry,
then he takes a drink out of the cream pitcher.
He likes tea, too, and drinks from Aunt Mary's
When she eats an orange he stands on the
arm of her chair and takes bites.
He likes bread and milk, and eats it every
morning for breakfast. Sometimes he does not
come quickly when Aunt Mary calls him, but
if she holds out to him a spoonful of milk he
will run to her as fast as he can.
But what do you think Tip loves best of
anything to eat? A cricket! When Aunt
Mary says "See here! see here!" then* Tip
knows she has a cricket for him, and he runs
to get it.
He goes out-of-doors and walks about some-
times, but he does not fly away. I think he
never will, because he loves Aunt Mary.


W HO has the button ? Who, 0, who?
Tell me quickly, true, 0, true!
"I've dot some on my little shoe."
"And I have some on my dress, too!"
"I have seven of 'em on my sack."
"I've a whole row up and down my back."
" We've all got buttons, buttons plenty,
Some have seven, and some have twenty.
And you ask us all 'Who has the button?'
As well ask a sheep has she got some mutton!"

[NOTE:-The above arranges prettily for a dialogue be-
tween very little people and an older one. The line "We've
all got buttons," and the one following, may be recited in
concert by the wee ones; and the last two by a clear little
voice capable of throwing into it considerable sarcasm. THE



HY do people laugh when any-
S"r H body says that some house or
store, or some building about which
they have been talking is made of
This was the question which I
heard one boy ask of another older than himself.
"Do they laugh?" asked the older boy.
"Why, of course they do. Didn't you ever
hear them ? Only yesterday father was talk-
ing with those men who are boarding at the
Beck House, about a village down South; they
told about the hotel in the village, and the
schoolhouse, and the depot, and oh! I don't
know, ever so many other buildings--churches,
and handsome private houses--all built up in
a little while, where there used to be only pine
woods; and when the man turned away, Mr.
Brockton said to father, 'I think those build-
ings are made of paper, don't you?' and father
laughed, and said, 'Yes; churches and depots
and all.' I meant to ask him what he meant,
but I didn't think of it when I had a chance."
"Oh!" said the older boy, "I know what
they meant. It is a town they are trying to
boom. They make maps of the town, and have
pictures drawn of churches and schoolhouses,
private houses, stores, banks, and all sorts of
buildings, such as they mean to have some day,
or want to have, and then they scatter those
maps over the cou- cry and call them pictures of
the place, before a single building is put up, per-
haps; so you see they are really made of paper."
"Ho!" said boy number one, "I shouldn't
cll that honest, should you?"
The older one laughed. "Well," he said,
"I shouldn't like to buy a house unless I was
sure it was built of something more substantial
than paper, that is a fact."
All this is true, and the boy's conclusions
were also true; and yet paper is getting to be
known as a very substantial thing indeed. The
time is fast coming when people will have to
get some other sentence than that one "made
of paper" with which to express their distrust
of a story, because at this present time there
has been finished in the city of Hamburg a
very large hotel, the front of which is built

entirely of paper! More than that, the paper
has been made fire-proof; and it is said that
rain and sunshine, and cold and frost have no
effect on it, so that it is better for buildings
than brick, or stone, or wood.
It certainly does seem strange to think of an
actual house in which people live built of paper,
but when we remember that we have paper
wash-bowls and pitchers, and pails, and tubs, car-
wheels, and I know not what else, we need not
be surprised that houses are growing out of the
same material. The truth is, there is by no means
so much chance to laugh over that phrase "made
of paper" as there used to be. PANsY.


A WRITER in the Boston Post tells a
story about a horse, which leads to the
wonderment as to how much these animals
know. The gentleman says he went to a large
livery stable one afternoon just as a number of
men who had left' their horses there for safe
keeping were driving from the yard. Among
them was a man with a large gray horse, who
Idoked about him with an air that seemed to
say "I know a great deal about several things;
I know more than you have an idea of." He
had broken into a little trot, and was evidently
intent upon getting home as soon as possible.
Suddenly a man who had been watching him
called out: "Dan, don't you want a piece of
cake?" Instantly the horse stopped, pricked
up his ears, looked about him eagerly and
uttered that peculiar "whinny," which says as
plainly as words can, "Where is the man who
spoke just then ? He is an old friend of mine."
No urging from his owner could, get the
horse to move an inch. The one who had
made the disturbance came forward laughing,
and explained. He recognized the horse as one
which he had owned several years before.
The animal's name at that time was Dan,
and though it had since been changed, he re-
membered it instantly, and also that he was
very fond of cake; and was in the habit of
receiving a piece from the man whose voice he
heard once more after the lapse of years.
Did not "Dan" prove that he had a memory?

H- --- __ __ __ _






OR-O-THE-A-that was Baby's name.
Dor-o-the-a was good and sweet when
she felt well, but that day she had a
toothache. Her little hands were dry
and hot, her mouth was sore, and
she did not want her dinner. She cried a good
deal, too.
Brother Bobby played all his funny pranks,
but she would not laugh. She only shut her
four little white teeth tight and wrinkled up
her forehead, and said "UTgh--um!"
"I will tell you what must be done," said

dresses and bibs and blankets and shirts and
skirts and socks into a big trunk.
Then a carriage came to the door and they
all got in -mamma and papa and Baby and
Fred and Frank and Bobby. The trunk was
put on behind, the driver cracked his whip,
and away they all went.
How hot and dusty the big city was; they
were all glad to be going out of it.
Pretty soon the carriage came down to the
lake, and there was the steamboat. Quick as
a wink they jumped out of the carriage and
got on to the boat, because it was time for it to
The big bell was going -"Clang! ding,
dong!" and the captain was shouting-"All

* ..~.. II
.9 ry -.. *... -.


papa at last, "we will take this baby to the
Then the little brothers all clapped their
hands and shouted:
"Goody, goody, good!"
So one morning mamma put Baby's white

aboard !" So they sailed away over the beau-
tiful blue water.
So swiftly and so smoothly they went along,
that Baby thought the boat must be a big
It was quite dark when they stopped. They


all went to bed and to sleep as fast as they
But in the morning what did they see and
They saw beautiful big trees and pretty
flowers, and oh! such grass. Baby thought
there was a green carpet spread over all the
world when she first looked out.
And how the birds did sing: "Hark, hark!"


l ,,, i '

.' -:


SUSIE and Mary and baby,
Baby and Mary and Sue;
As happy, as happy as may be,
Each loving and gentle and true.

Their feet keep step, keep step,
And their hands hold tight, hold tight,

_, ,,

r ^1


said Baby, in a very cautious tone of voice.
They had a nice breakfast of fresh eggs and
new milk, and strawberries just from the
Then little brothers took Baby out and put
her in the hammock under the trees. They
swung her and picked flowers for her. The
soft sweet air fanned her, and the bees hummed
a pretty song: Buzz, buzz, buzz-z-z! Soon
Baby was asleep. When she woke up she felt
And now little Dor-o-the-a is quite well
again. Her new tooth has come, and she
laughs and frolics all day long.

And their eyes because they have slept -
Are speaking and sparkling and bright.

May they walk, ever walk, the good way;
May their feet, little feet, never stray,
But be kept, 0, be kept to the end!
Good Shepherd, our darlings defend.

A LITTLE boy, becoming tired of the silence
of a Quaker meeting, got up on the seat, and,
folding his arms over his breast, said, "I do
wish the Lord would make us all gooder and
gooder and gooder, till there is no bad left."




-'i~r;rr------- i ~---------







(The following selections, arranged for reci-
tation, can be made very effective by a little care
in the management of details. The opening
verses are for an older scholar, and care should
be taken to train the speaker to recite well the
somewhat difficult measure.
A profusion of flowers should be displayed,
especially in the hands of those who recite
flower verses.
Of course the recitation beginning,

"I think that an angel, maybe,"

is intended for a very little child.
Some of the .Bible responses could be given
by a class trained to good concert recitation,
others by single voices.
The whole should be interspersed with appro-
priate singing, some of it done by a choir of
Notice in a book entitled" Wondrous Love,"*
a most appropriate song for an opening to such
an exercise. It is on page 48, title: "Sweet
Flowers are Blooming." We quote the first

"When summer outpours her wealth untold,
And meadows are decked with green and gold,
There cometh an hour to praise and pray -
We call it the Children's Day.

CHORUS: Sweet flowers are blooming everywhere,
Sweet perfume filling all the air,
While carroling birds their voices raise,
And join in our songs of praise."

The exquisite anthem entitled Consider the
Lilies," would be most appropriate rendered as
a solo by some good singer in the church.
In short, we have purposely left much to the
individual taste infilling out this exercise, and
yet have grouped recitations which we believe
cannot fail to please, if the right committees
take them in hand to work up their sur-
The exercise should close by the recitation of
George MacDonald's Consider the Ravens,"
which will be found on another page of this
Published by the John Church Company, Cincinnati.

Number One:
O, come and woo the spring!
Listen to the birds that sing.
Pluck the violets, pluck the daisies-
Sing their praises.
See the birds together
In this splendid weather,
Worship God, for He is God
Of birds, as well as men.
And each feathered neighbor
Enters on his labor -
Sparrow, swallow, robin,
The linnet and the wren.
Worship the God of nature in your childhooL
Worship Him in the flowers,
Amid their leafy bowers.
Pluck the buttercups and raise
Your voices in His praise.
Worship Him in your work with best endeavor,
Worship Him in your play,
Worship Him forever.

Number Two:

"The flowers appear on the earth, and the
time of the singing of birds is come." -
2 Samuel ii. 12.

Number Three:

(Recitation. Single voice. Little girl with
a bouquet of flowers of many varieties.)

"I think that an angel, maybe, don't you?
With a window pushed up very high,
Let some of the seeds of the flowers fall through
From the gardens they have-in the sky.
For they couldn't think, here, of lilies so white,
And such beautiful flowers, you know.
But I wonder, when falling from such a height,
That the dear little things could grow."

Number Four:
"And God saw everything that He had
made, and behold, it was very good." Gen.
i. 31.
"He hath made everything beautiful in His
time. No man can find out the work that God
maketh, from the beginning to the end."

Number Five:
(Recitation. By another little girl.)

"They ask not your planting,
They need not your care,
They grow
Dropped down in the valley,


The field, anywhere.
They grow in their beauty, arrayed in pure white,
They grow clothed in glory by heaven's own light -
Sweetly grow."

Number Six:
Something round which it may. twine
God gives every little vine.

Some little nook or sunny bower,
God gives every little flower."

Number Seven:
"Casting all your care upon Him; for He
careth for you." -1 Peter v. 7.

"Consider the lilies, how they grow; they
toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say
unto you that even Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like one of these."-- Luke
xii. 27.

"If then God so clothe the grass of the field,
how much more will he clothe you?"--Luke
xii. 28.

Number Eight:
"Then leave it with Him;
The lilies all do,
And they grow;
They grow in the rain,
And they grow in the dew-
Grow and growl
They grow in the darkness, all hid by the night;
They grow in the sunshine, revealed in the light-
Still they grow."

Number Nine:
"Out on the hills in mild spring weather;
So early, only the bluebirds knew;
Thousands of little flowers grew together;
Purple and pink, and white and blue;
While the March storm raged and fretted, and wept,
And froze its song in the bluebird's throat;
'Neath mottled-leaf blankets they softly slept,
Close wrapped in their soft fur overcoats.

Now the sun shines warm, and under our feet
They nod and smile in the sweet spring air;
So.daintily hued, and faintly sweet-
What flowers of the garden are half so fair?
And the sweet old sermon is preached again
Of life from death, for the doubter's need,
Of rest, after struggle, and grief, and pain -
The text: The Lord is risen again.' "

Number Ten:
"The wilderness and the solitary place shall
be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice,
and blossom as the rose.. It shall blossom
abundantly, and rejoice. Say to them that are
of a fearful heart, be strong, fear not: behold
your God will come." Isa. xxxv. 1, 2, 4.

Number Eleven:
"'Twas a bluebird told the story,
On his way from heaven this morn.
It was starlight soft and tender,
Yet the East was flushed with rose,
And the weary world was waking
From the calm of its repose.
This the message, sweet and holy,
Tired souls, forget your pain.
Christ the Lord for you is risen -
Joy! dear hearts, He comes to reign.' "

Number Twelve:
."The Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice;
let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth
be glad; let the field be joyful, and all
that is therein; then shall all the trees of
the wood rejoice before the Lord; for He
cometh, He cometh to judge the earth; He
shall judge the world with righteousness and
the people with his truth.-Ps. xcvi. 11-13;
xcvii. 1.

Number Thirteen:
"Do you think that the sermons men preach
us in words, are worth any more than the ser-
mons of birds?"

Number Fourteen:
"Behold the fowls of the air; for they
sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather
into barns; yet your Heavenly Father feedeth

X..r,, _Fifteen:
A wee little nest you could hold in your hand,
Lightly lashed to the topmost mast of a tree!
Why so high, so dizzy a height was chosen,
Is just the question that puzzles me.

.` rl ;: ~1; it?:, Ir i


Number Sixteen:
Oh! I think that the mother-bird wanted to hold
Her own little cares close up to God's eye,
High up in the limbs, as we would a prayer,
And that is the very reason why

She builded her nest in the high tree-top.
Not knowing He's everywhere, over the land,
And holdeth the stars, and the lives of men,
And her own wee nest in the palm of His hand.

Number Seventeen:
"Some green bough or mossy sward,
God gives every little;bird."

Number Eighteen:

"The sparrow hath found a house, and the
swallow a nest for herself. Ps..lxxxiv. 3.

Number Nineteen:
"A sparrow was twittering at my feet,
With its beautiful auburn head,
And looked at me with dark, mild eyes,
As it picked up crumbs of bread;
And said to me in words as plain as
The words of a bird could be:
I am only a little sparrow,
A bird of low degree;
My life is. of little value,
But the dear Lord cares for me.
I know there are many sparrows-
All over the world we are found-
But our Heavenly Father knoweth
When one of us falls to the ground."

Number Twenty:

"Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing?
and one of them shall not fall on the ground
without your Father. Fear ye not therefore,'
ye are of more value than many sparrows."-
1Matt. x. 29, 31.

Number Twenty-one:
I saw some birdies once, white and brown,
Gay and beautiful, lighting down
WVith a cheery twitter upon the snow.

Where do the little snowbirds go
Cor something to eat when the fields are bare,
And the frost has bitten the wintry air?

Number Twenty-two:
Oh! you know that the Lord takes care
Of His little tender birds of the air,
And the snowbird's life is as safe and gay
As the robin's is on this sweet June day.

Number Twenty-three:

"Consider the ravens, for they neither sow
nor reap; which neither have storehouse nor
barns; and God feedeth them."

Number Twenty-four:
The grasses are clothed
And the ravens are fed
From His store;
And you who are loved
And guarded and led,
How much more
Will He clothe you and feed you
And give you His care?
Then leave it with Him, He is everywhere."

Number Twenty-five:
Oh wise little birds, how do you know
The way to go
Southward and Northward to and fro?"
Far up in the ether piped they:
"We but obey
One that calleth us, far away.
He calleth, and calleth, year by year--
Now there, now here;
Even He maketh the way appear."
Dear little birds, He calleth me
Who calleth thee.
Would that I might as trusting be."

Number Twenty-six:

"As birds flying, so will the-Lord of hosts
defend Jerusalem; defending also He will de-
liver it; and passing over, He will preserve it."
-Isa. xxxi. 5.
"Great is the Lord and of great power." -
Ps. cxlvii. 5.
"Remember His marvellous works that He
hath done." Ps. cv. 1.
"Make known His deeds among the people."
-Ps. cv. 1. PANSY.

As certainly as your Master's love is in you,
his work will be upon you. Bushnell.




HE is very sick," said Dr. Robbie Proc-
Stor, in his grandfather's hat and his
J uncle's coat, with Aunt Katie's glasses
seated astride his nose, "very sick indeed! "
and he laid his hand with professional skill on
the kitten's paw. "If you do not follow my
directions she will die, and there's no help for
it. She has the small-pox, and cholera, and
yellow fever, all mixed up together. It would
be hard for anybody but me to tell you so
much, but I can tell."
"0, dear, dear me!" said the frightened
little mother, "I will be sure to follow your
directions. To think that my child should
have so many sicknesses all at once."
"Yes, it is very sad; and she must have a
pint of brandy every ten minutes for the next
fifty-five hours, or she will die, certain true,
black and blue."
Up rose the little mother, her face all in a
glow of indignation. Gathering the precious
child in the skirt of her dress with true
womanly dignity, she spoke in freezing tones.
"She never will, Dr. Robbie, and you need
not think it. I wonder at you for saying such
words in my mother's house, when you know
she never lets a drop of brandy come into it,
and does riot believe in using it for anything!
The idea that I would let my kitten play take
brandy! I'm ashamed of you, Robbie Proctor,
and don't want to have anything more to do
with you."
So saying, she walked across the room and
out at the door.
"Well," said Dr. Robbie in great indigna-
tion, "if you won't -do as the doctor says, how
can you expect him to help you?"
"I don't expect it," came from the hall in
freezing tones. "I never will expect help from
a doctor who uses such dreadful medicines as
There was a sound of clapping of hands
which came from the library, and papa's voice
"Three cheers for the little mother, who
has the 'courage of her convictions,'" though
what he meant by such long words as that, you
must ask your father. MYRA SPAFFORD.


'*': VER two thousand years ago there
lived a man who,was one of God's
-. -.- missionaries. That is, he was sent to
Sdo a certain work for God for the
Sword missionary means one who is
sent. He was sent to the people of his own
nation. He was a shepherd, and God sent a
message to all the shepherds to let the people
know that they had been doing wickedly, and
that He was displeased with them.
The whole story of this man's mission work
is written in a book, and the book is called
"The words of ." I am not going to tell
you his name, because I want you to see if you
can find out what it was. This book, though
not printed in quite the same form as most of
our books, yet has a title-page just like any
other book. After giving the name of the
book, it goes on to tell who this man was, and
gives the time of the writing of the book. It
says that this man was one of the herdmen of
Tekoa, and that the words written in the book
are "concerning" a certain country or people,
arid that the story happened in the time of two
kings whom it names, and "two years before
the earthquake."
Now I am going to tell you a little about
what this man said would happen to the people,
and then I want you to see if you can tell the
name of this man, the name of the nation to
whom he was sent, and the names, of the two
kings who were ruling in two countries at that
It seems that this man started out by preach-
ing a sermon to the people, just as missionaries
do nowadays. You see God had chosen him
because he was of their number -a herdsman
or shepherd just like the rest of them and he
knew just how to talk to the people to make
them understand.
All missionaries usually take texts for their
sermons, and so this missionary took his text,
and it was this: "The Lord will roar from
Zion, and utter his voice from Jerusalem; and
the habitations of the shepherds shall mourn,
and the top of Carmel shall wither."
Then the people all listened, and were ready
to be very angry with this man for saying all




this, but before they had time to say to one
another, "What is all this that he is saying?
What does it mean?" this missionary went on.
Without waiting for them to grow angry at
what he had said was going to happen to them,
he went on to speak about some other wicked
nations who were their enemies. He told of
dreadful things that were to happen to them in
punishment for all their sins, and the people
listened and said to themselves, "That is all
right. That is just what ought to happen to
them; they are very wicked people indeed.
And this man must know what he is talking
The missionary goes on naming nation after
nation, and telling of the terrible things that
are coming to them, and the people grow more
and more excited, until he names the nation
which they hate the most and think the wicked-
est. They begin to see that the man is in
earnest, and they are in sympathy with all that
he has said, and think it right that a dreadful
judgment should fall upon all those wicked peo-
ple, when suddenly the man looks straight at
them and says, "And not only to all these
nations is this terrible punishment coming, but
to you, too, will the Lord bring judgment," and
he reminds them of all their sins before the
The people stand there listening, and know
that it is true. This missionary has introduced
himself to them, and they all understand just
what he has come for, now. He asks them
some plain questions, which they do not seem
to have answered except in their own hearts:
questions that help them to understand what a
great wrong they have done, and how surely
God is going to bring judgment upon them.
He tells them that they are empty of. all that
is right. He calls upon them to let the nations
round about them who do not believe in and
process to love God, come in and testify against
them and see if they will not say that it is all
The people are filled with solemnity as he
tells them that they will be utterly destroyed.
And then he tells them who has sent this word
to them: -
"' For lo, he that formeth the mountains,
and createth the wind, and declareth unto man

what is his thought, that maketh the morning
darkness, and treadeth upon the high places of
the earth, the Lord the God of Hosts is his
name,' he is the One that sends this word to
The missionary's first sermon is ended, and
he goes away and leaves the people to think
about the terrible truths he has declared unto
The next day, or the next week, or the next
month, or possibly not until the next year, we
do not know just when, he comes back and
preaches another sermon to them.
He tries to rouse them up to see what they
are doing. He says, "You hate the people
who tell you you are doing wrong, and you
abhor those who speak the truth. You are
stealing from the poor and treading them
down; you have built beautiful houses, but
you shall not live in them; you have planted
pleasant vineyards, but you shall not enjoy
them. For I know your sins; how you afflict
people, and take bribes, and will not let the
poor people have their rights. Some of you
know better than all this, but you are afraid to
say anything about it; some of you think you
are sorry and are repenting, but you are deceiv-
ing yourselves, for you are merely afraid that
something terrible may happen to you. Some
of you think that you will offer sacrifices, and
then the Lord will not send trouble upon you,
but that will not make any difference. The
terrible day is surely coming, and it will be
such an awful time that a few of the wicked
ones who may escape will say to those around
them, 'Hush! do not attract God's attention
to us.' "
And so ends the missionary's second sermon,
and the people are left thinking with terror
and dread.
When the missionary comes to preach his
third sermon, those people have become angry,
and though the preacher has chosen a very in-
teresting way of preaching this time, by telling
stories, and the people have to listen for a little
while, still, right in the middle of his sermon
there rises up a man and sends word to the
king that this thing must be stopped; that "the
land is not able to bear all the words" of the
preacher. Then the king sends word to the


missionary that he must stop preaching; but
the missionary has been sent to his work by
God, and not by the king, so he goes right on
just the same and preaches to the people all
that the Lord has told him to do. He preaches
sermon after sermon, telling them his dreams
and stories to help them understand.
But he gives them a blessed hope. He tells
them that there shall be a very few of them -
all those who are truly repentant that shall
be saved from this terrible judgment, and he
closes up his mission by reciting for them some
beautiful promises that God has sent for that
precious "remnant," as he calls them, of his
And he says, "They shall be restored, and
they shall no more be pulled up out of their
land which I have given them, saith the Lord
thy God."
Now who were all these people, and did this
terrible judgment that the missionary told
about ever come to pass?


THE work in the schools has its ups and
downs. I do wish the Hindoos and
Mohammedans would get through their wed-
ding festivities in one day, or two at most.
Each wedding requires weeks, in which the
little girls take no active part, but it keeps
them out of school.
To-morrow will be a day of great rejoicing,
though none of the children can tell why. It
is the festival of Holi, when they throw over
each other a magenta colored powder mixed
with water. Men dress up in skirts and dance,
singing obscene songs.
We always close our Hindoo schools and
warn our Christian women to keep away from
the city.
We cannot make you realize what filth of
all kinds we must wade through to reach the
women and girls. But in spite of it all, I often
come home from teaching these little ones feel-
ing that there is hope. They are wonderfully
nice girls, in spite of their surroundings.


S AMIE STUART was the crossest
boy in the village, at least I hope there
was none crosser. It was Sunday, too,
which is certainly a poor day in which
to be cross, if there is any difference in the
days which we may choose for that accom-
He was cross to his sister Delia. On the way
home from Sunday-school he gave her what he
called a "piece of his mind."
"Of all the silly girls I ever heard of, I think
you are the silliest."
This was the way he began.
"What ever possessed you to put in such a
lot of pennies in the box? I was looking at
you when you dropped them in, and there must
have been nine or ten."
Seven," said Delia promptly.
," Well, then, seven. You are rich, seems .to
me, if you can afford to give so mich money
at once."
,"Why, it was '.foreign missionary day,' you
know," explained Delia, "and we always give
just as much as we can on that day, to help
support Miss Colburn."
"Poh! said Jamie; "as if your seven pen-
nies would do much toward supporting Miss
Colburn! What if mother had to depend on
them to help support us, how much would they
"Why, they would help," said Delia meekly,
"and it was all I had, you know."
"Yes; that's the silliness of it," said Jamie,
growing more wrathful as. he thought of it;
"the idea of giving every cent you had to
foreign missions! For my part, I think it was
downright selfish. What is to become of home
missions if that is the way people do?"
Why, I give to that when the time comes,"
said poor bewildered Delia, who was two years
younger than Jamie, and could not always keep
track of his logic.
"The time comes all the time for that," said
Jamie, in an oracular tone. "There's always
something at home that needs doing; needs it
a great deal worse than the old heathen do.
Just think of poor old Mr. Oswald, poking
away in his little store on that back street, try-


ing as hard as he can to support a family. Only
yesterday,. when I went in there with a lot of
boys who didn't all of them together spend
three cents, he said to me, 'What has become
of that nice little sister of yours who used to
buy so many peanuts of me? I haven't seen
her in more than a week.' I wish I had
thought, and I'd have told him vou were so

guess he only keeps peanuts to accommodate
the children."
"That's just where you are mistaken, Miss
Missionary; he lets that lame Phil Oswald have
all the money he can make from peanuts and
gum and such things, and he's trying as hard
as ever he can to get money enough to buy
him a wheeled chair so he can go around the


busy supporting the heathen out in China, or
somewhere, you couldn't think of your neigh-
"But, Jamie," said Delia, much disturbed,
"MIr. Oswald surely doesn't have to support
his family on peanuts? he keeps lots of useful
things, and men .and women buy of him. I

streets and do errands and such things. It is
real missionary work to buy peanuts-enough
sight more important than the old heathen, I
This was news indeed! Delia was so much
interested that she forgot to answer Jamie, and
kept on thinking of the lame Oswald boy, and


of how nice it would be if he could have a
wheeled chair, and how nice it would be if
she could help him, until Jamie, finding that
she had nothing to say, and having expressed
his mind pretty freely, fell back to walk
with Dick Watson, and left her to her own
Less than a week afterwards Jamie Stuart
was cross again crosser than before, so his
sister thought.
"You are the biggest goose in all this world,
I do believe!" he said to the gentle little Delia.
As well acquainted as she was with her brother,
this made the little girl open her eyes, for it
seemed to her that in view of his.last Sunday's
talk she certainly must have pleased him
This is what she had done. There had unex-
pectedly fallen into her hands a whole ten-cent
piece, which she was at liberty to spend just as
she pleased. She had pleased to go at once to
Mr. Oswald's store and asked for two cents
worth of peanuts, handing out her ten cents for
payment; but the amazing part of it was, that
when Phil, who was himself waiting on her,
turned to the drawer for change, she said
sweetly, "Never mind the change, please; I
want you to put it with your fund for the
wheeled chair. I hope you will very soon get
How glad she was to tell Jamie the story.
He had wanted Phil helped so much. How
pleased he would be! His answer had been
those words which I told you.
"Why," said Delia bewildered, "I don't
know what to think of you, Jamie Stuart. I
thought you would like it so much. Don't you
see that he has a great many peanuts left to
sell to other people, and eight whole cents to
go into his fund? I'd have given him the ten
cents without any peanuts, only I thought per-
haps he wouldn't like that."
"Of course he wouldn't," answered Jamie;
"he isn't a beggar. I dare say he did not like
it to have you give him the eight cents; he
would a great deal rather have given you pea-
nuts for them."
"Oh! you are mistaken," declared Delia;
"he thanked me beautifully, and said he would
remember how kind I had been, and that his

fund did not grow very fast; that selling pea-
nuts enough to raise twenty dollars was slow
work, and I think it must be. I was as glad as
I could be that I could help, and I thought you
would like it ever so much."
"I thought you were a ninny!" said cross
Jamie, "and I know you are, and Phil Oswald
is another."
Then he flounced off with the two cents
worth of peanuts in his pocket.
Delia looked after him in grave anxiety.
"Jamie must have missed in his arithmetic
again, I'm afraid, and that is what makes him
cross," she said to himself.
But it wasn't. I, understanding Jamie Stuart
better than his sister did, will tell you some-
thing. He liked peanuts very much indeed,
and Delia liked them very little. So when she
bought them, which she often did just for his
sake, he was sure to get the most of them,
which was the entire secret of his deep interest
in home missions."
I have sorrowful reason to think that there
are a great many people, some of them older
than Jamie Stuart, whose interest in home mis-
sions is just about as deep-seated as his.


1. She sees she has something to do about
2. She has decided to do something.
3. She is trying to do what she can.
4. She has picked out her missionary.
5. She is learning all she can about him-
his history, his family, his field, where it is, and
just what it is; everything about it, you see, so
that she can talk about and talk to this family
as if they were across the street.
6. She writes to them: this month to the
missionary father, the next month to the mother,
then to his little daughter Kittie, then to Mar-
jorie, and so on; once a month to some one of
them. Of course Mary gets good long letters
back. Some of them she shows to her pastor.
He reads them in the monthly meetings. Some-
times they are printed in the village paper.
Everybody reads the village paper. Mattie


Missildine always reads it. Her heart is now
being stirred, and she is hunting about to find
her missionary. to write to. All this keeps
Mary's heart very warm, so-
7. She prays for her missionary. You'd be
surprised to know how hard it is for Mary to
stop praying for her missionary and his family
when she begins. I wish I had room to print
one of her long, particular, earnest prayers--
though of course she does not know that often
and often her mother, in the next room, hears
them word for word.
8. She has set herself to finding ways to
raise money for her missionary and his family.
She doesn't spend a cent any more foolishly, as
once. She sees now that she would have just
forty dollars to send to her missionary if she
had not wasted the money given her the last
four years. So Mary is helping-Mary's teeth
and stomach as well as -her missionary. And
somehow other girls in her Sunday-school are
hearing of her ways of economy and self-sacri-
fice and are thinking of doing likewise; the
next thing will be a wide-awake missionary
society of these girls. Of course the other girls
will insist upon Mary's being the president.
9. She is preparing a paper on her mission-
ary and his field. Her pastor insists upon it.
She said at first she did not want to. He said
she could do it "for Jesus' sake." So she is
working' at it. I would like to be in the
monthly meeting when it is read. Of course
Mary's parents will be there. They do not
usually attend this meeting. C. M. L.


T HIS is Holy Week. If you could see the
sights we have seen, you would know
how much this dark land needs the pure
I must tell you about the procession: A large
number of soldiers came first, then masked
men, carrying a platform on which stood a
figure representing our Saviour after He had
been scourged. This figure was covered with
red paint to make it look as if it were bleeding.
The many Saints are carried in the same way
by masked men.
The procession of to-day which is Good
Friday-is one of the saddest sights in Colom-
bia. Think of their having the funeral of our
The figure representing the body of Christ
is taken down from the cross. After this
it is laid in a handsome coffin, then, with a
great many Saints from the Cathedral, it is
carried to another church, where it is left till
Sabbath morning.
The Virgin Mary is also borne on a platform.
She is as large as life, and wears a fine black
velvet dress with a long train, which is carried
by an angel. This platform is covered with
lovely flowers.
Do you wonder that our hearts are sad when
we see such things? Pray for Colombia and
its few workers.
Mr. Touzeau sells a little book, "The Life
and Death of our Saviour." It sells rapidly
this week. It may speak where we cannot.


O H! what shall I give to the S
For what He hath given to
I'll give Him the gift of an earne
Of a heart that is loving and free
As He hath given for me.

And what shall I do for the Savi
For what He hath done for me
I'll pray for the sick and the evil
I'll make my friends among the p
As He hath done for me.



st life, N New Mexico is the Order of Penitent
from strife, _I Brothers. During Lent they inflict dread-
ful torture upon their bodies, professing to imi-
tate Christ's suffering.
our You remember that Jesus was scourged. So
? one of these Penitentes will scourge the bare
doer; back of another till he is covered with blood,
oor and in this horrible state the bleeding one will
attempt to carry a very heavy cross. All this
Selected. and much more in our own country!



A Flower Legend.

A LL roses were white, in the long ago,
According to flower lore ;
aBut one day an angel passed by that way
As a message of love he bore

To a sorrowful soul bowed down by woe,
And weary with ceaseless pain,
And as he noticed the fragrant white flowers,
He poised on the wing amain,

And quickly approaching those roses sweet,
A beautiful bud to pick,
He whispered, "I'll take it with word of love
I bear to the lonely sick."

But as he plucked the beauteous flower,
Whose soft cheek was pale as death,
He said, As my errand this time brings life -
I will warm it with my breath."

So he kissed the cheek of the fair white rose,
Which neathh his thrilling touch blushed,
And with message of love, and pink rose of hope,
The sighs of the sick one he hushed.

And ever since then, when a rose is red,
Or blushes with delicate tint,
A kiss, from some angel of love and life,
On its cheek has left its imprint.


TN December, 1821, a man with his wife and
Child were riding in a sleigh over the
mountains of Vermont. At last the horse re-
fused to proceed. The man set off to look for
help, but soon he perished in the cold. The
mother set off to look for him, with her baby in
her arms, but she was found dead near the sleigh,
next morning. The babe, however, was living,
for that mother had wrapped it in her shawl.
There is a sweet poem written about it. This
proves to you the deep love that wells up in the
mother's heart. Any mother would have done
the same for her child.
How earnestly.should every child strive to
love and please his dear parents. RINGwooD.


T HE Moon rose early, and Baby Ned
WVas rather late in going to bed.
Not two years old, this dear little fellow,
With head so round, and bright, and yellow,

With his eyes so brown, and mouth so sweet,
His fair little hands, and dainty feet-
Wee feet, that have barely learned to walk -
And his wise, quaint, broken, baby talk.

He was perched that night on grandma's knee,
The place where the small king loved to be.
Where the wise brown eyes saw something new
Through the window, up there in the blue.

Over the top of the tallest hill,
Round and silvery, fair, and still,
God's grand old moon that for ages past
Has held its way in the night-sky vast.

And Neddie wanted that shining ball
To hold in his hands so soft and small,
And nobody went and took it down.
He wrinkled his face to a little frown;

Red lips quivered-he wanted it soon;
Then one more baby cried for the moon!
But mamma brought him his milk and bread,
And patted his dear little curly head.

Then quickly he smiled and forgot the moon,
And laughed at his face in his silver spoon.
O happy Neddie! so easy to smile;
Your life will be glad, if all the while

As the years go on you can turn away
From all that you want when God says "Nay,"
And laugh, and thank Him for what He may
give -
That is the way for His child to live.

O manly boys, and sweet little girls!
With all your colors of eyes and curls,
If you would have life like a summer day,
Be content with the things that are in your way.

Seek ever the things that are pure and high,
As planets that move in the evening sky,
But if you can't have the shining noon,
Be glad when God offers the silver spoon.


_ _





EARLY two hundred years ago there
lived in Boston a Mr. Josiah Franklin.
He had a family of seventeen children.
S "Whew!"
"*Whew" if you will, yet it's true.
Moreover, he must needs house, warm, clothe
and feed them all from the simple business of
candle and soap making.
However, as "many hands make light work,"
and as each of the thirty-eight hands in Mr.
Franklin's house did what it could to bring in
"bread and butter," the Franklin family got
on quite prosperously, though a fat turkey was
not always on hand for Thanksgiving, or stock-
ings full of toys for the holidays.
Don't they seem comfortable in the picture?
The boys are preparing their kite; little Ben,
with back toward you, with the bunch of kite.
string in his right hand, is looking on and doing
a big amount of thinking, which some day will
astonish all the world.
There sits father, dozing awhile, and Moll,
fast asleep, by his side.
They have watched the work of the boys on
the kite till it is all done but the tail, and
Tommy, with scissors and bits of paper, and a
smile of triumph, is putting on the final touches.
But we must let the kite-flying go- and the
kite, too. It went off into the clouds or into
the top of a tree, and that was the end of it;
but not the end of our little Ben. He lived
to be eighty-four years old, and for something
higher than kites.
He did not fancy his father's greasy shop,
cutting candle wicks and running on errands, so
one day he quietly informed the Franklin family
that he had made up his mind to go to sea!
But as it was quite necessary that some more
of the family should be of the same mind be-
fore he could "set sail," and as none was, that
scheme was abandoned by our young Benjamin.
Instead, his father bound him out to his brother
James, to be a printer.
That proved just to his mind; for, besides
type-setting, he found books to read. Nbt one
escaped his sharp eye. He would read nearly
all night long.
Meanwhile he mastered the printing business.

But he and James could not get on smoothly.
One morning, when he was seventeen, he
slipped away from James on board a vessel,
and was soon in New York, and from there,
partly by water and partly on foot, he pushed
on to Philadelphia. There a year in a printing.
office, then to London; another year with type;
back again; married to Deborah Read; in 1729
editing a paper, "The Pennsylvania Gazette,"
all his own. All this our little Ben.
It would take a big book to tell the half
about Ben. One of the great things was his
signing the Declaration of Independence with
the self-same hand that holds that bunch of
kite-string, another, his catching lightning!
You see he became a man of science as well
as a great writer and statesman.
Among other things his mind got to running
about electricity. "What is it?" he would
ask himself. At last he thought it out. It is
the same as lightning.
How should he prove it? He thought that
out, too. He made a kite, and he did it with-
out Tommy's aid. He slipped away from home
with this kite and his son. No one else knew
anything about it, so that if he failed to prove
that electricity and lightning were one and the
same, nobody could laugh at him and say, "I
told you so."
The sky was dark; thunder was rolling; rain
was falling. Up, higher, higher, went Ben's
kite among the clouds. Soon there came a
"shock." It was proved. You must read
about it. God raised Benjamin Franklin up for
a great good. What are you for? C. M. L.


REAMING!" The exclamation, partly
an interrogation, was Uncle Hube's, as
he reined up by the roadside and saw
just over the fence his niece Flossy,
lying under the big apple-tree, her
elbow in the grass and her cheek resting upon
her hand.
"Say, Floss, are you dreamiing?" he said
again. At this second call the little girl started
up and came to the fence, swinging her hat by
the band.


Little one, do you want to ride ?"
Indeed, I do."
"Very well; I'll drive down to the gate, and
you can run in and tell mamma."
"Now we are off," he said, a few moments
later, as he tucked the afghan about Flossy
and gave the signal for starting.
"Well, Flossy, what were you puzzling over
there under the old apple-tree ?"
"I was just. saying over my dates."
"Your dates! What are those?"
"The dates for August. Our class in history
are hunting up remarkable events for every day
in the year. We have got as far as August."
"And can you find remarkable events enough
to cover the whole year?" asked UIcle Hube.
"Sometimes we have to hunt a long time,
and sometimes there does not seem to be any-
thing worth remembering."
"I wish I had taken you with me this morn-
ing," said gncle Hube. "I drove out to a
place where there was a battle fought on the
sixth of August, a long time ago."
"I wish I could have gone; you mean out
to Oriskany, I suppose?"
Do you know about that?"
"Yes ; that is one of my dates."'
"I went out to see the monument that has
been erected on the hill just east of the ravine
where the ambush occurred. It is supposed that
General Herkimer received the wound which
cost him his life, down there in the valley. The
spot where he sat after he was wounded, lean-
ing against a tree giving orders to his men, is
pointed out. What do you know about that
battle, Flossy?"
"I know that in 1771 General St. Leger was
sent by way of Oswego at the head of a band
of Tories and Indians to take Fort Schuyler,
where Rome now is; and that General Herki-
mer gathered an.army and was going as fast as
possible to relieve the fort, when they met the
enemy near Oriskany, and General Herkimer
was wounded."
"Yes; St. Leger had been warned of Herki-
mer's approach, and he sent forward the Tories
and Indians, who made an ambuscade, and as
Herkimer's men were marching along, not
thinking of danger, they found themselves in
deadly peril. The fight lasted five hours, but

though more than two hundred of the patriots
were killed, the enemy fled at last. The im-
portance of this battle seems not to have been
fully appreciated by early historians. The plan
of the British was to invade New York with
the main army under Burgoyne by way of Lake
Champlain, while St. Leger should march down
the Mohawk Valley and unite with Burgoyne
at Albany. With the control of the Hudson
and Lake Champlain, and with the fertile Mo-
hawk Valley from which to draw their supplies,
they could cut New England off from the rest
of the Colonies; and Governor Dorsheimer
said in his address at the dedication of the
monument, that it is now seen that the success
,f this scheme depended upon the success with
which St. Leger should carry out his part of
the plan, and that Burgoyne afterwards inti-
mated that he would have succeeded if he had
been aided as he expected by St. Leger. So it
appears that this battle over there in the ravine
and upon the thickly wooded slopes was a most
decisive one."
"There is something about the name of the
fort which I do not understand," said Flossy.
"Sometimes it is called Fort Stanwix, and
sometimes Fort Schuyler." Which is correct?"
"The fort was built during the French and
Indian War, and named Fort Stanwix, but fell
into ruin, and was rebuilt in 1776, and after
that time called Fort Schuyler, in honor of
General Philip Schuyler."
"Are your dates confined to American his-
tory ?" asked Uncle Hube, as they rode along.
"O, no! we can go all over the world, and,
as Miss Blake says, 'all through the ages.'
You see, we took it up last fall when we began
United States History, and we got interested,
and now we can't let it alone. We have a
club that meets every Friday through vacation,
and we compare our lists and. ask and answer
"I don't know about girls studying through
vacation," said Uncle Hube doubtfully.
"Oh! it isn't study, it is play. Miss Blake
says it is better than getting books from the
loan library, as the girls do who do hot belong
to the club."
"I shouldn't wonder," replied Uncld Hube.

Y~n~l~~unup~~~mnu~rnrlc*~,aplrrz;.~ Irrrrr~iwrr-rr~^urrlrilirulmrir~-rm rrixrrrxu-pr-an~-r~-~rr*rr~i~;ii*una~~




R. FOSTER was in the hall gather-
ing his letters and papers into a con-
venient package as he spoke.
"Be sure you are ready, Katie, when
I come. I can't tell when it will be, but I shall
be certain to be in a hurry, and have no time
for waiting; so remember, if you want to go
you must be on the watch."
"I will, papa," Katie said positively; "you
needn't be afraid. I shall get ready this morn-
ing, and be looking out for you all the while."
Mr. Faster smiled on his young daughter,
kissed her, then sprang down the piazza stairs
three steps at a time, to catch a passing car.
He was a very busy man, and was nearly

-i Jill

;E- --4L


always in a hurry. On this particular day busi-
ness was calling him to the large city, which
was only thirty miles away from the small one
where he lived. Katie was very fond of going
#o the city with her papa, partly because 'she
had a friend living there who was always glad
to see her and did everything imaginable to
make her have a good time, and partly because
papa was such a busy man he rarely had time
to take her with him. So when she returned

her father's kiss and assured him for the second
time she would be sure to be ready, nobody
could have been more certain than Katie Foster
that she was speaking the truth.
An hour afterward Mrs. Bennett, the house-
keeper, called out to her on the piazza where
she sat teasing the cat, "I should think you
would go and get ready, Katie. How do you
know but what your papa will come soon?"
"I'm going in a minute," said Katie, "but
papa will be.sure not to come this morning; he
can't get away from the office in time for a
morning train."
Ten minutes more and Irish Kate looked out
of the window and spoke good-humoredly:
My name is Kate, and I've more sense than
some people of that name that I know of. If
a certain Kate of my acquaintance was go-
Sing to the city some time to-day you'd see
her brushing her hair and putting on her
best dress in a hurry."
Katie laughed.
"It doesn't take me so long to prink as
it does you, Kate," she said; "I'll be ready
in good time; don't you be afraid. Papa is
always later than he has any idea he will
Another half-hour and Katie had really
made her way upstairs and laid out the
dress and ribbons she meant to wear, and
begun to brush her hair. Then she espied
the Sunday-school book she had been read-
ing the afternoon before.
"I declare," she said, stopping short in
her work, "I forgot all about that book.
I wonder what became of Norm.Decker? I
do hope he got to be somebody. I'll just
read a few pages; there will be plenty of
time to dress, after that; papa is sure not to
come before the two o'clock train. I know
as well as I want to, that we shall not get
back to-night. I'll put up my night things
in a bag and have them all ready, and papa's,
too, so he can be comfortable if he has to stay.
but first I'll read just a little bit."
So saying she plumped herself on to the
white bed which Irish Kate had made up nicely
for the day, and in two minutes more was so
absorbed in the fortunes of Susie and Nettie
Decker, to say nothing of Norm and Jerry,


that all thought of dressing or of packing was
forgotten. One more warning she had. Her
cousin Edna, who was a young lady and had
charge of her uncle's house, looked in and said,
" Why, Katie, you ought to be dressed, dear.
I heard Uncle tell you he might come at any
moment, and it is nearly lunch time."
S"I'll be ready," said Katie dreamily; "papa
is sure to be late."
But it is late already, child; the lunch bell
will ring in fifteen minutes."
"Well, it doesn't take me fifteen minutes to
dress, and papa won't go before the two o'clock
train, I feel sure. Edna, you ought to read
this book; it is real exciting."
"I'm afraid you will be excited in another
way before long," was Edna's last warning, but
she shut the door and went on with her work.
Five, ten minutes more, and a faint tinkle of
a bell about to ring made Katie realize that
her few minutes had been many, and that the
morning was gone. She raised herself slowly
to a sitting posture, still with her eyes on her
book. If she could only find out whether the
General was Jerry's father she would be con-
tent to wait for the rest. Suddenly she threw
the book from her with such force that it landed
on the floor, kicked off her slippers and began
to button her shoes with anxious haste. She
was thoroughly aroused. It was not the bell,
but her father's voice sounding distinctly
through the hall:
"Where is Katie? Tell her to come quick,
there is not a moment to lose. I want to catch
the 1:15 train. Never mind lunch; we will
lunch in town. No, the two o'clock train will
not do; I must get to the lower bank before it
closes. Isn't Katie ready? Where is she?"
"Papa, I'm coming," sounded a tremulous
voice. "I'll be ready in five minutes."
There is not five minutes to wait, daughter.
I had just time to rush home for you. I must
be going this instant. I'm sorry, daughter;
you must wait until next time. Good-by!"
and Mr. Foster was gone.
Poor Katie! Do you wonder that she buried
her head in her pillow and sobbed? But really,
do you think anybody was to blame for her
disappointment but her own silly self?


NCE there was a boy. His name
was Mark. Mark had a cage. The
cage had a bird. The bird had a face.
The face had eyes, nose and mouth,
only the nose and mouth were about the same
thing; but that didn't matter so long as this
"thing" answered the same purpose.
Now just as the eyes and nose happened to
feel and fix themselves, so the bird looked.
Mark went daily to see his bird; indeed,
often each hour, sometimes. Looking sharply


at it with the eye of a student, he would have
known it from a hundred others.
But it had a way of being a different bird
every time; that is to say, it put on a different
face. It was as if it had a great store, and the
store had great shelves, and each shelf was full
of faces, and each was unlike the other, and
the bird put on one as often as it felt like it.
Now it seemed handsome, now ugly; this hour
wise, the next a dunce. On Monday like a
rose; Tuesday, as a brier; Wednesday, happy
as a harp; Thursday, sour as a pickle; Friday,
cross as a cat; Saturday, pretty as a peach;
Sabbath, bright as a star.
So Mark called his bird "Painter," because
it made faces; and he set himself daily to find
out where Painter got his paint, since he was


pink or blue or green or black or scarlet, or
whatever he would.
One day, as he stood watching, Painter
opened his throat wide enough almost to split
it, and poured forth one of the sweetest songs
he had ever heard.
Oh !" said Mark, "I see; Painter's paint-
pots must be away down there."
Then came a scolding blast from Painter.
Now he would smile upon the neighbor bird
that came to spend the afternoon with him,
and now fly at him as though he would tear
him to pieces.
"Yes, yes," went on Mark, "paint of all
colors, and no end to it down in that little
stomach; good, bad and indifferent. Dear,
dear! I wish Painter would use only the good,
and so his face would always seem beautiful."
Just what Mark's mother wished of him!
"My Mark's heart is full of thoughts, good,
bad and indifferent. Sometimes this one, some-
times that, sits upon his face and paints it
handsome or ugly. Oh! if he would use the
good thoughts only."
Did you ever ask Jesus to cleanse your heart
from evil thoughts?


(St. John viii. 27.)

ONE Shepherd leads and guides the flock
Keeping it ever tenderly in sight;
His voice is true, and in all places heard,
So follow on the sheep at His dear Word.

"I know my sheep!" the gracious Shepherd
"Naught in the world their hearing hindereth,
For when I call they gather, far and near,
Nor know, with my protection, any fear."

One fold, one Shepherd, happy is the way
That leads to life, nor will the loved ones stray
While ever onward in His steps they tread,
Glad to be owned and guided, as is said.
HAZEL WYLDE, in Home Guardian.


BIJAH TERRY was my great-grand-
father's friend-as good and brave a
little lad as ever wore homespun flax
and wool garments. He came from
good old Puritan stock who fought for
liberty and freedom.
"'Bijah" helped tend the farm. There was
always a call for 'Bijah to do this, and 'Bijah
to do that chores in the house and out he
was so willing' an' handy," Mother Terry said.
Don't you know of a little tanned, freckle-
faced boy who goes barefoot in summer, and is
a real mother boy? I do.
Well, 'Bijah was going to the "muster"
on training-day. It was to be on the' Boston
Commons. His father was a captain, and could
flourish his bright sword beautifully, and mother
kept his uniform done up in a clean' linen cloth,
perfumed with bergamot and lemon thyme.
'Bijah's mother sometimes went about with
red eyes. She did not like the "musters" very
well, though she always helped her husband to
"fix" up. It wasn't long before 'Bijah began
to see that a beautiful gold and glass bottle
and cup that came out from its honored place,
the parlor mantel, had something to do with
her sadness.
When the friends came in of evenings the
lovely bottle was brought out, and the dainty
drinking-glass filled, and often a drink brewed
from roast apples, lemons, loaf sugar, and a
little from the bottle poured in it. 'Bijah
always hoped they would leave a little in the
bottom of the cup, but they always drained it.
"What's in it, mother?" he asked, as she
dusted it one morning.
"Headache, 'Bijah, ruin and misery, is in
this bottle." Mrs. Terry wept, and the boy
said no more.
"Trainin' day to-morrow, on the Green, an'
it'll be a grand sight to see the soldiers.
Brother Abe is one of them. How many six-
pences you got for gingerbread and cider,
Bige ?" A warm, dirty little hand was thrust
through a knot-hole in the tight fence, and two
new silver sixpences glittered there. It was
Neighbor Hildred's Richard.
"Why-ee, Richard, who gave you all that


money?" said 'Bijah, round-eyed with wonder
at such wealth in a little boy's hand.
"Brother Abe gave 'em to me. Our apples
turned out poor, an' he means me to have, oh 1
-a lot of cider, because it's muster."
"I'll go to training' if mother goes, but
mother doesn't drink cider or the stuff that's
in our lovely bottle--I've watched her. She
says there's a headache an' misery in it. Have
you a drinking' bottle at your house?"
"Of course we have; an' mother keeps real
Vera Cruz in it, an' sets it out for company."
'Bijah sat upon the flat stone step at sunset
with his bowl of blueberries and creamy milk.
Mother was rubbing up the brass buttons on
father's uniform, but she sighed all the time.
Muster morning dawned clear and bright.
Father looked grand indeed in his military suit.
He called 'Bijah to him and gave him silver.
"It's for the gingerbread horses you'll want,"
he said. "You must come and watch us train,
my boy. No cowards or mush-and-milk boys
do I want about me," and Mr. Terry at the
drum signalling, hurried away to be in time.
He was straight and handsome, and the
plume in his cap waved jauntily. Last muster
he did not come back looking as he went. The
fine blue uniform was soiled and dusted, his
step was unsteady, his face scarlet and swollen,
and the plume broken and drooping. It took
mother a long time to clean the pretty suit.
Why was it ?
"Will father spoil his nice clothes again,
mother?" 'Bijah asked.
"I fear so, dear," was the low reply.
"Isn't father a good man?" he added.
"Yes, yes, darling; why do you ask?"
"Is it the-what's in our glass bottle, mother,
that makes him do so?"
"Yes, dear, it is; O, my son!" and the
mother held her boy close, wishing she could
ever keep him innocent and loving. Then,
kissing him, and folding him closer still, she.
combed out the yellow curls, dressed him in a
new suit of linen, and gave him his straw hat
plaited by her own fingers.
The "trainers" marched right by their door.
,'Bijah sat on the flat steps and saw the gay
crowds pass. He cheered when he saw the tall
form of the captain, as he led his men. Richard

called for him, but he did not leave his seat.
"Don't you want to go?" asked his mother.
"No, mother, I'd rather not."
"Why not, 'Bijah?" she continued.
Climbing into mother's lap, he said, with his
lips close to her ear, "I don't want to see father
get so he staggers and can't talk plain; it makes
me cry. And, mother, I'm never going to drink
from that bottle."
How proud that mother was of her boy.
After their talk she made him a whole family
of animals from sugar gingerbread, and a deli-
cious raspberry jam shortcake. Then she told
him stories of the Revolutionary War, and.
they had a very happy time together.
And better than all, 'Bijah kept his word,
too. The handsome bottle is in the family
to-day, but it holds nothing' more dangerous
than arnica -to heal wounds, instead of caus.
ing sore and grievous ones.


ARE you almost disgusted
With life, little man ?
I will tell you a wonderful trick
That will bring you contentment
If anything can -
Do something for somebody, quick;
Do something for somebody, quick!
Are you awfully tired
With play, little girl?
Weary, discouraged and sick?
I'll tell you the loveliest
Game in the world -
Do something for somebody, quick;
Do something for somebody, quick!
Though it rains like the rain
Of the flood, little man,
And the clouds are forbidding and thick,
You can make the sun shine
In your soul, little man -
Do something for somebody, quick;
Do something for somebody, quick !
Though the skies are like brass
Overhead, little girl,
And the walk like a well-heated brick;
And are earthly affairs
In a terrible whirl ?
Do something for somebody, quick;
Do something for somebody, quick!



ELL, my dears," said an old Mother
Bird to her children, one fine day, "it
is time we were starting South."
O, no! not yet," said Fluff; "I want to.
stay longer."
"No, indeed!" said Mother Bird; "we must
go. The cold winter will soon be here."
So they started. But naughty little Fluff
did not go with them. He hid in the pine-tree
till they were gone.
The next day it was very cold. The sky
was dark. The trees were bare, and little
snowflakes were flying about.
Poor little Fluff sat on the fence alone.
His feathers stuck out, arid his feet were
blue and cold. He felt sad and lonely.
He wished he had gone with the others.
He had wanted his own way, and now that'
he had it it wasn't nice a bit.
Oh! how cold the wind was. How black
the clouds were!
"Chee! chee! chee!" said Fluff, "I'm
so hungry. I can't find any supper. 0,
dear! what shall I do?"
Just then a little girl named Daisy came
and looked out of the window.
"Oh! do see that poor little bird," she
said. "He looks so cold. I guess he is
She went to the kitchen and got some
bread. She threw some crumbs on the
stones and said, "There, dear birdie, come
and eat your supper."
Fluff looked at her with bright eyes.
He wanted some supper, but he was afraid.
"Come, Birdie; come, Birdie," said Daisy.
She looked so sweet, and her voice was so
kind, that Fluff forgot to be afraid. He
hopped down and ate a nice supper. Then he
felt better. He flew up in the pine-tree and

tucked his head under his wing and was soon
fast asleep. In the morning when he woke up
what do you think he saw?
His own dear mother! She had come all the
way back to find him. Oh! how glad he was.
Daisy got up early and put some more
crumbs on the stones. Fluff and his mother
went down and had a nice breakfast. Then
they started on their journey. They sailed up
into the sky and flew, and flew, and flew, far
away. By and by they got home to the South.
It is a pretty home. There is no snow. The
sun shines, the roses bloom, and little birds


never have cold toes. Fluff is happy. He
knows that his way was not best. Sometimes
when he is very happy he remembers the little
girl who fed him on that cold night. He sings
little songs about her. He will not forget her.

-, V

University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs