Christian

Life
Readers

Fifth Reader

A Keepers of the Faith Reader

Bible Values
For Today’s Children
Copyright 2006 Keepers of the Faith

This book, including illustrations, may not be reproduced in whole

or in part without written permission from Keepers of the Faith.

Published by: Keepers of the Faith®

[Link]
 Table of Contents

What Makes Christian Life Readers Different?������������������������������3

The Purpose of the Fifth Reader������������������������������������������������������5
How To Use the Fifth Reader����������������������������������������������������������6

Lesson I The Morning Walk�������������������������������������������13

Lesson II The Singer��������������������������������������������������������17
Lesson III Look at the Birds!��������������������������������������������21
Lesson IV I Will Conquer Myself�������������������������������������26
Lesson V Agnes, The Young Patrician�����������������������������30
Lesson VI There’s Work Enough To Do���������������������������36
Lesson VII Praying for Rain�����������������������������������������������40
Lesson VIII Sam Silver’s Thanksgiving������������������������������46
Lesson IX Fannie’s Opportunity���������������������������������������55
Lesson X Grandmother Bronson��������������������������������������61
Lesson XI Minnie’s Influence�������������������������������������������65
Lesson XII The Two Shores�����������������������������������������������70
Lesson XIII Brave Jamie Douglas, The Covenanter������������73
Lesson XIV A Little White Casket���������������������������������������79
Lesson XV Broken��������������������������������������������������������������84
Lesson XVI Dreaming Susy�������������������������������������������������89
Lesson XVII Buying the Truth����������������������������������������������97
Lesson XVIII Sowing�����������������������������������������������������������105
Lesson XIX Courage and Cowardice���������������������������������108
Lesson XX Mary Jones and Her Bible������������������������������113
Lesson XXI William Tyndale, The Translator�������������������121
Lesson XXII The Long Night����������������������������������������������128
Lesson XXIII Plain Little Patty��������������������������������������������137
Lesson XXIV The Great Harvest������������������������������������������143
Lesson XXV Joe Benton’s Coal Yard����������������������������������147

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Lesson XXVI The Dangerous Door��������������������������������������155
Lesson XXVII Jamie’s Struggle���������������������������������������������164
Lesson XXVIII Walking in Love���������������������������������������������173
Lesson XXIX Missionary Jam����������������������������������������������182
Lesson XXX The Open Door����������������������������������������������188
Lesson XXXI Sounding Brass����������������������������������������������192
Lesson XXXII The Garden of the Beloved����������������������������198
Lesson XXXIII “In Honor Preferring One Another”���������������207
Lesson XXXIV Mother’s Sheaf�����������������������������������������������214
Lesson XXXV The Angel in the Fog��������������������������������������226
Lesson XXXVI The Leak in the Dyke�������������������������������������234
Appendix A Roman Numeral Chart�����������������������������������242
Appendix B Timing and Usage of Punctuation������������������243

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 What Makes Christian Life Readers Different?

There are lots of readers out there. Why did we create yet
another set? And what sets these apart from all the rest? We wanted
something that would not only build reading ability more effectively
than most others, but would build lives as well. Christian Life
Readers are not just readers—they are life-impacting. We could
almost call them Christian life training manuals.
A reader, especially a Christian reader, should be more than just
a collection of stories. At this formative stage of the student’s life
it is important to build a strong spiritual foundation as well as a
reading foundation. Christian Life Readers do just that. The lessons
in the Christian Life Readers are about the Christian life. They will
provoke thought about the student’s own life. They require spiritual
thinking and evaluation. As the student’s reading comprehension
grows, his or her spiritual discernment will be commensurately
exercised.
Yet, the primary goal of a reading course is to build effective
reading skills. This is where Christian Life Readers excel. The ability
to read is an extensive set of skills built one upon another in proper
sequence until the whole becomes a single, complete, instinctive
process. Recent findings by ACT, the college testing organization,
indicated that most college entrants are currently deficient in the
necessary reading comprehension skills to perform at college levels.
One article stated: “In complex reading passages, organization may
be elaborate, messages may be implicit, interactions among ideas
or characters may be subtle and the vocabulary is demanding and
intricate.”
Christian Life Readers are specifically designed to build these
skills. Once the student has become familiar with basic phonetic
constructs through a good phonics program like Succeeding at

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Reading, basic comprehension skills are addressed in the First Reader.
Skills are then built line upon line and brick upon brick throughout
the entire series. Many facets of comprehension are exercised in
increasing degrees building up to the levels mentioned.
Christian Life Readers do not just introduce vocabulary.
They build lifetime vocabulary skills. Vocabulary is the media of
communication. Speaking, reading, writing, and the comprehension
of such cannot exist without vocabulary. The life skills and habits for
building one’s vocabulary are an integral part of each lesson, even to
the inclusion of several levels of mini-dictionaries to encourage and
cement competent dictionary usage.
Early on, the student is introduced gradually to different types
and usages of punctuation. Punctuation is as integral to the written
word as voice inflection is to the spoken word. The student will learn,
through reading with attention to punctuation, to fluently translate
from one medium to the other. As comprehension skills increase,
analysis becomes a part of the lesson exercises. Thus, as all these
factors come into play, the full process of reading is realized.
Add to this the careful mix of studies in character and godliness,
and you have a superior learning environment in which your child
will learn to excel at consuming and digesting the written word.
Awareness of the value of such traits at an early age, when the
mind is in such a receptive state, will serve as a springboard into a
positive, competent, rewarding life. Good character breeds success,
and everything works better when it is rightly related to God. It is
our intent that these readers should bring all these important benefits
to the life of the student, and thus teach those things that are also
dear to the teacher and parent.

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 The Purpose of the Fifth Reader

The purpose of the Fifth Reader is to primarily expand upon the

same skills learned in the Fourth Reader to develop the student’s
reading comprehension, vocabulary skills, and reading ability in
general.
In the Fifth Reader, comprehension will again involve questions
requiring deductions based on the details in the story. The student
will also be asked to describe some of the pictures that the lesson
authors have “painted,” and to describe what “lessons” some of the
authors have attempted to communicate. The student will not only
collect and process data, but determine what the author is trying to
communicate, and the tools that the author is using to do so. There
will be less detail questions, and more evaluative questions.
Once again, this reader will be a rich vocabulary experience.
The student will continue to employ the standard dictionary. The
vocabulary words will, once again, be listed with a sentence segment
in which they are used to assist the student in more easily finding the
correct definition in the dictionary.
The student will continue to practice elocution with more
complex ideas, sentence structure, punctuation and vocabulary.

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 How To Use the Fifth Reader

Day 1
1. Have the student read the lesson. This may be done aloud or
silently.

2. Review the vocabulary words with the student. Assist with the
pronunciation of any words that may be irregular or difficult for
the student.

3. Have the student look up the definitions of the vocabulary words

using a dictionary. An alphabetical list of the vocabulary words
is provided following the lesson. The list contains a portion of
the passage that uses each word so that the student can readily
find the word and see how it is used in the lesson.

The student should write each vocabulary word with the

appropriate definition for the word as it is used in the lesson.
This can be done on a sheet of paper or in a notebook. This
reinforces the association between the word and its definition in
the student’s mind.

4. Review the definitions with the student. The instructor can easily
check the student’s vocabulary work by having the student read
the definitions that he or she has written, and following along in
list of vocabulary words at the end of the lesson in the reader.
Each word in the list is accompanied by a short passage in which
it is used in the lesson. This allows the instructor to check as
to whether the student has applied the correct definition to the
word.

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 Day 2
1. Have the student read the lesson aloud. The student should be
able to pronounce all the words readily.

If a student struggles with reading aloud, more work is needed

in a phonetic reading tool. The student should be practicing
each day in Succeeding at Reading until the reading of “sounds”
becomes a completely instinctive, unconscious part of the process
called reading. It is recommended that a student reach a level
at which he or she is able to read all the lessons in Succeeding
at Reading at 100+ words per minute. This indicates that the
student is beyond needing to consciously deal with phonics, and
is free to concentrate on the more complex elements of reading,
which comprise the reason for which we read.

2. Have the student answer the questions that follow the lesson.
The questions may be answered orally or the answers may be
written. Be sure that the student fully answers the question, as
it may require multiple details from the lesson for a complete
answer. In this reader, many of the answers may not be explicitly
stated in the story as in previous readers, but they will be stated
in similar language, which should make them obvious to the
student. There will be more deductive reasoning and evaluation
involved than with the Fourth Reader. The student may look up
the answers as needed. Remind the student that concentrating
on what is read reduces the need for rereading and looking up
the answers. However, some lookup will likely be needed for
most lessons. This is fine, because reading in search of specific
details is also something that requires some exercise if one is to
become proficient in it.

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 The last several questions in each lesson will require the student
to make a deduction or evaluation, or form an opinion. Some of
these questions will require a deduction about the lesson based
upon the facts presented. Some will require a deduction about
one’s personal life or life in general based on the story. Some
will require an evaluation of one’s personal life and habits, and a
possible need for change, based on knowledge learned from the
lesson. From a technical standpoint, there is no explicitly correct
answer to these questions. If the opinion of the student seems
inappropriate, the instructor should ask how the student came
to that particular conclusion. The response may be surprising,
and the conclusion understandable, when it is clear how it was
formed.

Day 3
1. Have the student read the lesson aloud.

2. Have the student retell the story from memory in his own
words. At this point, the student has read the lesson several
times, answered questions about many of the details involved,
and probably specifically looked up many of those details. The
student should be able to recount the story relatively accurately,
and with relatively complete detail.

3. Have the student explain what he or she thought was the “moral”
of the story, or the main concept that the author wanted to leave
with the reader.

Day 4
1. Have the student read the lesson aloud. By this time the student
should be quite familiar with the lesson, and we want the student
to focus fully on elocution for this read. The student should

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 handle punctuation according to the instructions in Appendix B
at the back of this reader.

2. Have the student read the scripture associated with the lesson.

3. Have the child explain the meaning of the scripture.

4. Have the child explain how the scripture relates to the story.

Other Thoughts
Scriptures are ideal for penmanship practice. Writing them also
helps in remembering them. They are also great devotional material
as the story is related to the scripture, and both are related to one’s
personal life.

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 Weekly Schedule at a Glance
Day 1
� Have the student read the lesson.
� Review the pronunciation of the vocabulary words.
� Have the student look up the vocabulary words.
� Have the student write the definitions.
� Review the definitions.
Day 2
� Have the student read the lesson aloud.
� Have the student answer the questions.
Day 3
� Have the student read the lesson aloud.
� Have the student retell the story from memory.
� Have the student explain the moral of the story.
Day 4
� Have the student read the story aloud stressing elocution.
� Have the student read the scripture.
� Have the student explain the scripture.
� Have the student relate the scripture to the story.

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 Lesson I
The Morning Walk

“I cannot tell how it is that you are able to judge people by their
appearance,” said Robert Mander to his father, with whom he was
walking along the street. “You can always tell me something about
everyone that we meet.”
“I suppose,” replied Mr. Mander, “it is because I have learned
to look upon people with the eyes of my mind as well as with my
natural eyes. A habit of observation and reflection enables us to see
and to know many things of which we should otherwise be ignorant.
Now, what do you know about the man who is walking a little way
before us?”
Robert looked and saw a small, spare man in black walking a
few yards in advance of them and said, “Nothing at all, except that
he is dressed in black.”
“Nothing at all!” exclaimed his father. “Why, I never saw him
before, and I know a great deal about him. His threadbare clothes
tell me that he is probably poor; his clean, brushed coat and well
polished shoes convince me of his care and neatness; and the piece
of crape around his hat assures me that he has lost a relative by
death. You see, then, that I have good reasons for believing that he
is poor, yet neat and careful, and that he has been in affliction.”
“I should not have learned so much in a week,” said Robert.
They followed the poor man for a short time when Mr. Mander
asked his son whether he had found out anything else about him.
“No, sir, I have not,” replied Robert.

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 “That is very strange,” said
his father. “Did you not see how
pleasantly he spoke when the
baker pushed against him with
his basket? Now, that is evidence
that he is good-tempered. If he
were not so, he would have been
angry.
“Then, did you not see how carefully he picked up the little
child that had fallen on the sidewalk? There can be no doubt of his
kindness. And when he stopped at the bookstall, I glanced over his
shoulder and saw that he was looking into a religious book. So I
have no doubt of his being a good-humored, kind-hearted, and, I
hope, a serious man.”
Mr. Mander and his son still followed the stranger. After a time,
Robert was again asked whether he had made any discoveries. As
before, he replied that he had not.
“Surely, Robert,” said Mr. Mander, “you are not making the best
use of your eyes, for I have seen in the poor man several additional
good qualities. In passing by the almshouse, he dropped a piece of

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money into the lap of a blind woman who was knitting at the door:
he must be charitable. He gave way to the butcher who had just
gone by with a loaded tray: he must be humble and considerate. He
bowed to the gentleman on horseback in a manner that convinces
me that he has been well brought up. Therefore, I have little doubt
of his being charitable and well bred, and I believe that he is neither
proud nor selfish.
“Thus, you see from our morning’s experience the importance of
cultivating habits of accurate observation.”

“My son, give me thine heart, and let thine eyes observe my ways.” —
Proverbs 23:26

Questions
1. What was Robert’s father trying to teach him this morning?
2. How did Robert’s father look upon people?
3. What did Robert observe about the man walking in front of his
father and himself when asked?
4. Why did Robert’s father believe that the man they were following
was poor, but that he took pride in his appearance?
5. What did the gentleman do to convince Robert’s father that he
was good-tempered and kind?

What Do You Think?

6. Why do you think it is important to develop the power of
observation?
7. If someone was following you every morning, what would he or
she see? If you knew, would you change the way you act?
8. Visualize your morning and what you did today, and pretend you
are someone following yourself and try to imagine in your mind
what you look like. Write down a few of your thoughts.

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Vocabulary
accurate cultivating habits of accurate observation
advance walking a few yards in advance of them
affliction and that he has been in affliction
almshouse in passing by the almshouse
assures the piece of crape around his hat assures me
bookstall when he stopped at the bookstall
bred of his being charitable and well bred
charitable little doubt of his being charitable
considerate he must be humble and considerate
convince well polished shoes convince me
crape the piece of crape around his hat
cultivating the importance of cultivating habits
ignorant we should otherwise be ignorant
observation observation and reflection enables us to see
reflection observation and reflection enables us to see
relative he has lost a relative by death
spare saw a small, spare man
threadbare his threadbare clothes
visualize visualize your morning

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 Lesson II
The Singer

No bracelets nor necklaces

had she; no white silk dress
had she ever seen, and a
common white muslin, even,
she had never worn. She was
barefooted, and though the
morning was warm, she had
wrapped an old shawl around
herself to hide the holes in her
dress. A neat little girl was
Mandy, or at least she would
have been, if she had known
how. After a hard rain, she
always washed her feet in the
fast running gutter puddles
just because she liked to see
them look clean; but she had
no needle and thread at home, nor patches. Her work among the
barrels, picking for rags, was not the cleanest in the world. Yet on
this afternoon, like most afternoons, Mandy regaled her audience
with a far sweeter concert than the most finely talented and dressed
singers in the concert hall down the street. Her audience today
consisted of an organ-grinder who stopped to rest a bit, and an old
woman who was going by with a baby, and a little boy with a load

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of chips. The words she sang were:

“There is a fountain filled with blood,

Drawn from Immanuel’s veins.”

And the chorus was repeated many times in Mandy’s sweet voice.
“I’ve been redeemed, I’ve been redeemed, I’ve been redeemed!” I
don’t know how many times over she sang this, but what different
words from what her audience had heard before!
“Where did you get that?” asked the organ-grinder.
“What?” said Mandy, startled, and turning quickly.
“That! that you’re singing.”
“Oh, I got it at Sunday school.” And she rolled out the wonderful
news, “I’ve been redeemed, I’ve been redeemed; been washed in the
blood of the Lamb.”
“I don’t suppose you understand what you’re singing about?”
asked the organ-grinder.
“Don’t I, though!” said Mandy, with an emphatic little nod of
her head. “I know all about it, and it’s all true. I belong to Him; He
is going to make me clean inside, and dress me in white someday,
to stay with Him forever and ever. ‘I’ve been redeemed, I’ve been
redeemed—been washed in the blood of the Lamb.’ ”
As he trudged on down the street, as far as the organ-grinder
could hear, there came back to him the faint sound of the chorus,
“I’ve been redeemed.” Nobody threw bouquets to Mandy; nobody
said she had a sweet voice. But the organ-grinder kept saying the
words over and over to himself. They were not new words to him.
Years ago, his old mother used to sing those first ones, “There is a
fountain.” He had never heard the chorus before; but he knew it
fitted. He knew all about it because his mother had taught him so
long ago when he was a little boy. A minister had said to him once,
“My boy, you must be sure to find the fountain and get washed.” He

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never had. He was almost an old man, and it was years since he had
thought about it; but Mandy’s song brought it all back.
Was that the end of it? Oh, no. The organ-grinder kept thinking,
and thinking, until, by-and-by, he resolved to do so. He sought the
fountain, and found it. And now, since he knew the tune, he could
sing, “I’ve been redeemed.” Many times he says the words over and
over. Is that the end? Oh, no. It will never end. When Mandy and
the organ-grinder stand up yonder, and she hears all about the song
that she sung as she picked over rags, it will not, even then, be the
end.

“And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the
dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that
they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.” —
Revelation 14:13

Questions
1. How does the story paint the picture of Mandy being poor?
2. What else does the author tell us about Mandy that shows us
what kind of life Mandy had?
3. Why did Mandy have an audience for her singing?
4. Since Mandy was poor and her job was not a likable one, what
was the source of Mandy’s joy?

What Do You Think?

5. Do you think the story would have turned out the same if Mandy
had simply told everyone that she loved Jesus, but had not sung
and shown the happiness and contentment she had with her life
as it was? Explain why.
6. Think about the saying “Actions speak louder than words.” Now
think about your life and give an example or two of how your
actions are speaking.

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Vocabulary
audience Mandy regaled her audience
barrels Her work among the barrels
chorus the chorus was repeated many times
concert regaled her audience with a far sweeter concert
emphatic with an emphatic little nod of her head
gutter washed her feet in the fast running gutter
puddles
henceforth which die in the Lord from henceforth
Immanuel Drawn from Immanuel’s veins
organ-grinder her audience today consisted of an organ-
grinder
regaled Mandy regaled her audience
shawl she had wrapped an old shawl around herself
talented the most finely talented and dressed singers
trudged as he trudged on down the street
veins Drawn from Immanuel’s veins
yonder stand up yonder

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 Lesson III
Look at the Birds!

October, with its golden and crimson hues, its “gentle wind,”
and its “fair sunny noon,” has passed away. November has come.
The sun shines brightly, and the sky is almost clear of clouds; but the
chill wind blows roughly. The leaves are rudely torn from the trees
where they have gladdened us through the spring and the summer
by their refreshing shade, and their sweet music, as they rustled in
the gentle breeze. They lie now, most of them, beneath the trees,
wrinkled and faded, or scattered here and there, far from the others,
wherever the cold gust has blown them.
The birds have been taught by their unfailing instinct that
summer has departed, and winter is near. They no more warble
their rich melodies, or flit in and out of the honeysuckles, or peep
with knowing look under the eaves, or into the arbor. Creatures
are taking their farewell of the pleasant summer haunts, where they
have built their nests and reared their young.
This morning, soon after sunrise, Peter was standing on the
lawn enjoying the beauties of nature, and thinking, I suppose, of the
changes of the seasons, when all at once I heard him shout, “Look at
the birds! Look at the birds!” We threw open the window, and there
were thousands and thousands of them almost over our heads. Their
wings made a noise like the rushing of a steam engine as it cleaves
the air in its speed. The birds were calling to each other with a short,
quick sound. It seemed as if they were giving and receiving orders.
We watched them until they disappeared over the treetops.

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 “There are more!
There are more!” shouted
Charlotte. We again looked
toward the rising sun, and
up over the eastern hills
came another immense
flock, calling to each other
as the first, and they, too,
disappeared behind the
western hills.
“There is another
flock!” and so indeed
there was. Up from the
meadows and over the hills
they came, swaying up and
down in their flight, and so near
that we could see each bird distinctly. Almost
simultaneously they alighted on Clover Hill to
rest for a moment.
Soon, another company followed in the same direction, and
when they were over Clover Hill, up flew the others, and away they
all went beyond our sight. Flock after flock appeared, each taking
the same general direction, and some of them so large that they
stretched from the hills, which bounded our view on one side, and
as far as our eye could see on the other. They looked, as Peter said,
like bees swarming, only they were much larger. Occasionally, a
few stragglers could be seen, hurrying on to join their party, which
was in advance of them. Perhaps they had delayed to take a last
farewell of their pleasant summer homes. I hope they will be more
prompt in future, for it is a bad habit to be late, and often occasions
much vexation and inconvenience.
I never before saw so many birds together, although I have

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frequently been startled by the peculiar sound made by large
numbers flying in company, and have looked at them with wonder
and admiration.
The migration of birds is one of the most remarkable phenomena
in natural history. “Yea, the stork in the heaven knoweth her appointed
times; and the turtle and the crane and the swallow observe the time
of their coming,” and so do all birds of passage. Their Creator
has endowed them with a wonderful instinct, which, in some way
unknown to us, teaches them to guard against the severity of the
season by seeking a warmer climate, and when “winter is past,” and
“the flowers appear on the earth,” and “the vines with the tender
grape give a good smell,” then “the time of the singing of birds is
come,” and their voice is heard in our land. Some of them return,
not only to the same country, but to the same place, where they have
previously built their nests, and, year after year, raise their broods in
the same friendly tree.
It is said that, to enable birds to fly with ease, and continue
long on the wing, they must fly against the wind. I observed, this
morning, that there was a brisk wind from the west, while the birds
were flying a little south of west. Perhaps they had been waiting
several days for a favorable wind, and that may have been the reason
for the great number of flocks we saw.
“Behold the fowls of the air:” said our Saviour, in His sermon
on the mount; “for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather
into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much
better than they?” At another time, when He was talking with His
disciples about the persecutions they should endure for His sake, He
said to them, “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of
them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very
hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of
more value than many sparrows.”
Not one of that immense number of birds, which we saw flying

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to a warmer country, can perish without God’s knowledge. He sees
every one of them. During the summer, He has fed them on the
meadows near the seashore, and now that winter is approaching, He
has taught them to seek other places, where their appropriate food
can be found.
Whenever God’s children are tempted to yield to self-pity, and
to fear that they shall suffer from want, let them remember that they
are of more value than many sparrows, and that if they trust their
heavenly Father, their bread shall be given them, and their water
shall be sure. He Who feeds the birds will feed them. May He—

“Fill our souls with trust unshaken

In that Being Who has taken
Care for every living thing,
In Summer, Winter, Fall and Spring.”

“Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor
gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much
better than they?” —Matthew 6:26

Questions—What Do You Think?

1. Read the first paragraph of the story and try to visualize in your
mind the scene that the author is painting with words. Describe
what you are picturing in your mind.
2. Read the second paragraph and describe what you see in your
mind from the author’s words.
3. After reading the first two paragraphs, describe how the author
has made you feel.
4. When you begin to read the third paragraph about the birds
rushing and making noise and Peter shouting, does it send a
sudden rush of excitement through you? Explain your answer.
5. How does it make you feel about yourself when you think about
how God has designed the birds and how He cares for them?

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Vocabulary
admiration have looked at them with wonder and
admiration
alighted almost simultaneously they alighted
approaching now that winter is approaching
appropriate where their appropriate food can be found
arbor or into the arbor
brisk there was a brisk wind from the west
departed that summer has departed
eaves peep with knowing look under the eaves
endowed their Creator has endowed them
farewell taking their farewell flit
haunts of the pleasant summer haunts
inconvenience occasions much vexation and inconvenience
migration the migration of birds
passage and so do all birds of passage
phenomena the most remarkable phenomena in natural
history
refreshing by their refreshing shade
remarkable the most remarkable phenomena in natural
history
simultaneously almost simultaneously they alighted
stragglers a few stragglers could be seen
swarming like bees swarming

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 Lesson IV
I Will Conquer Myself

Many years ago in one of the oldest towns of New England there
lived a young girl, whom I shall call Helen Earle. Her father had
been engaged in the East Indian trade, and had gained great wealth.
Her mother was a sweet, gentle woman, who most tenderly loved
her children, and endeavored to correct their faults and to develop
good traits in them. In Helen’s home there was every comfort and
every luxury that heart could desire, but she was not always happy.
She had one fault, which often made herself and her friends very
unhappy. It was the indulgence of a violent temper. She would
allow herself to become very angry, and her usually beautiful face
was then disfigured by her temper. Her mother was greatly grieved
by these outbreaks of ill temper, and did all in her power to restrain
them. She talked with her daughter earnestly in regard to the sin of
such a temper. Helen would weep bitter tears, and express much
regret for the past, but she could not quite overcome the temptation.
The task seemed too difficult, and she shrunk from the attempt.
Mrs. Earle shed many tears in secret over this sad failing in her
beloved child, and most fervently pleaded for help from Him Who
had given her the care of this immortal spirit to educate for eternity.
She knew that God alone could change Helen’s heart, and give her
power to overcome this sin.
One day, when Helen was very angry at something which had
occurred, her mother led her upstairs to her own room and left her
alone. For a time she cried violently; then she grew calm and quiet,
and her mother could hear her walking back and forth across the
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room talking to herself. She listened. How her heart rejoiced when
she heard her repeating, again and again, “I will conquer myself! I
will conquer myself! Please, God, give me the strength to do so!”
And Helen did conquer herself with God’s grace. She had come
to the determination, not that she would try to conquer, but that she
would conquer. And—by the gracious help of the heavenly Father
Who always gives to those who ask—she nobly succeeded. From
that hour she was able to overcome the temptation and was not
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overcome by it. She grew up to womanhood and was remarkable
for the evenness and gentleness of her temper. None, who had not
known her in childhood, would have suspected that she was not
always thus mild and lovely.
Helen did for herself what no earthly friend could do for her.
Through God’s grace and her own determination she controlled her
impulses, and this triumph was of far more value to her than all the
wealth of her father. It made her a blessing to her friends, strengthened
all her good purposes, and enabled her to perform the duties of life
without the friction, which a bad temper always occasions. It gave
her that true self-respect which elevates the character, and which
none can feel who are not conscious of the power through God to
rule their own spirits.
No child is blamed for having a quick temper, but he is blamed if
he allows himself to be overpowered by it. If he really determines,
as Helen did, to conquer himself, and asks God for help, he will
succeed. The old proverb, “Where there is a will, there is a way,”
will never fail in such a case as this. “God helps those who help
themselves,” and He is ever ready to assist us in subduing what is
wrong in our own spirits.
The Bible contains many passages which condemn anger: “He
that is soon angry dealeth foolishly.” “Be not hasty in thy spirit to be
angry: for anger resteth in the bosom of fools.” “Make no friendship
with an angry man; and with a furious man thou shalt not go.” “He
that is slow to wrath is of great understanding: but he that is hasty of
spirit exalteth folly.” “Let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak,
slow to wrath: for the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of
God.”
All habits grow stronger by indulgence. If you allow yourself
to become angry today, you will more easily become so tomorrow.
If you control your temper today, it will be less difficult to control it
tomorrow. Helen’s victory was obtained by decision. To form the

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determination to conquer herself required more effort of will and
more strength of character than any subsequent struggle with her
besetting sin could possibly require.
If you have any fault which you wish to correct, you must fully
make up your mind to succeed. You must resolve that you will
conquer, and you must ask God for help. If you should occasionally
be overcome, do not give up, but with renewed courage try again.

“On yourself and God relying,

Try, keep trying.”

“Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to

speak, slow to wrath: for the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness
of God.” —James 1:19-20

Questions
1. From the description of Helen’s temper in the story, what do you
picture if you would see Helen losing her temper?
2. Describe how Helen felt when she lost her temper and how it
affected her and her mother.
3. What would Helen’s mother have done for Helen if she could
have?
4. What did Helen have to do to control her temper, which she had
avoided in the past?

What Do You Think?

5. Do you have difficulty controlling something in your life? What
must you do to change it?

Page -29-
Vocabulary
beloved sad failing in her beloved child
besetting any subsequent struggle with her besetting sin
develop correct their faults, and develop good traits
disfigured her usually beautiful face was then disfigured
elevates that true self-respect which elevates the
character
endeavored and endeavored to correct their faults
engaged had been engaged in the East Indian trade
evenness remarkable for the evenness and gentleness of
her temper
exalt(eth) he that is hasty of spirit exalteth folly
failing this sad failing in her beloved child
friction to perform the duties of life without the friction
immortal of this immortal spirit to educate for eternity
indulgence all habits grow stronger by indulgence
luxury there was every comfort and every luxury
outbreaks these outbreaks of ill temper
renewed but with renewed courage try again
shrunk she shrunk from the attempt
subduing in subduing what is wrong in our own spirits
subsequent any subsequent struggle with her besetting sin
wherefore wherefore, my beloved brethren
wrath for the wrath of man

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 Lesson V
Agnes, The Young Patrician

Agnes was born in Rome during the reign of Diocletian, about

the year A.D. 294. Her parents were of noble birth, and Agnes lived
in a beautiful home with mosaic floors, marble pillars, porticoes,
and cooling fountains. There were slaves who waited about in
attendance, ready at a sign of the hand to bring fruits or drink, to
pull down a shade to keep the sun out, or to raise one to let it in.
There were slaves for every purpose. Those beautiful marble
pillars and walls were polished by the slaves who had charge of
them, until they shone like glass, and everywhere in the home of a
high-born Roman were all that luxury and ease could desire.
But under all the stateliness, luxury, and seeming ease of these
wealthy Romans lurked evil and danger. Agnes, young as she was,
knew that no life was safe from the power and cruelty of the Emperor.
Envy and malice could easily find a way to bring ruin and death to
the highest. Was there nothing secure—was there no one in whom
one could trust?
Even when Agnes was quite a child these thoughts laid hold of
her. And one day, when she heard the story of Jesus, the Son of God,
the Saviour, Who had come to die for our sins, Who had risen again
and ascended to heaven, how joyfully her heart received Him!
Here was Someone more powerful than the mightiest Caesar—
One Who had given His life to save her, Who had shed His blood that
she might be washed from sin, and made meet for the inheritance of
the saints in light. He was preparing a home for her in His Father’s

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house above the strife and evil of this world, where she would dwell
forever with Him.
Happy Agnes! Happy the day when her young heart found its
refuge in the loving Saviour. No matter what awaited her in the
gilded, glittering world in which her lot was cast for the present, her
future with Him, in the courts of heaven, was assured.
She trode the marble halls of her earthly home now with a lighter
step; her eyes shone bright and clear with the inner joy, and, had she
dared, she would have broken into one of the sweet hymns she was
learning amongst the Christians. But in those days to say, “JESUS
DIED FOR ME: I AM HIS,” would mean torture and death for the
boy or girl who said it. So, for a time, our young Agnes said nothing
except to those who were like-minded.
The Christians had a curious way of finding each other out. You
would see one person drawing (as we draw sometimes idly with
the point of a stick) the outline of a fish. That sign meant: “JESUS,
SON OF GOD, SAVIOUR.” The letters of the word “fish” in the
Greek language are the initial letters of that sentence, so when a fish
was drawn by one person before another, if that person looking on
was a Christian, he or she would understand, and draw a fish too.
Thus, without a word, they knew each other for believers in the Lord
Jesus Christ. After that, the newly discovered Christian would be
taken to the meetings in the Catacombs, the only place where they
could gather safely and undisturbed.
The Catacombs form a maze of underground passages just
outside old Rome, and at night the Christians would steal away in
twos and threes to one of the entrances and make their way, lighted
by torches, to the appointed place of meeting. There in the torchlight,
they would pray, and listen to the reading of such part of God’s
Word as they had in those days, and sing hymns, without fear of
being heard. If you ever go to Rome, be sure to see the Catacombs,
for they are still there. You will see the names of Christians in the
burying places, many of them martyrs.

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 The years went by, for the most part filled with cruelty toward
the Christians; but this persecution revived their strength, and purity,
and simplicity, which had failed much during a long period of peace
many years before.
The Emperor Diocletian was incensed against them by Galerius,
his son-in-law and co-emperor, and he issued edict after edict to

Page -33-
compel the Christians to deny and dishonor their Lord. Through
the streets of Nicomedia and Rome, and all great cities, public
proclamation was made that all—men, women, and children—were
to go to the temples of the gods and sacrifice. Some Christians,
through fear of the persecution which would follow, did as they
were bid, but Agnes, young as she was, boldly refused.
As time went on, Galerius, with two of the three Emperors,
became more vigilant and vindictive, and Agnes was taken and
tortured. Strengthened by Christ Himself, she stood firm, and at last
was ordered to be beheaded.
The executioner came toward her, a naked sword in his hand,
and she smiled at him. The poor tortured child felt that she could
smile, for she knew of the joy and glory which lay beyond death.
Heaven was a real place to her, and she would be face to face with
her Saviour.
So she said, “I am now glad and rejoice that thou art come! I
will willingly receive into my bosom the length of this sword. I
shall surmount and escape all the darkness of this world. Receive,
O Christ, my soul that seeks Thee!” Then she knelt down, and with
one swift stroke it was all over. Those standing by could see only
the poor severed body. She, the real Agnes, was radiantly happy in
the presence of her Lord—seeing Him and speaking to Him. Happy
ever after! Thus she triumphed by grace.

“As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are
accounted as sheep for the slaughter.” —Romans 8:36

Questions
1. What caused Agnes to feel uneasy and fearful?
2. Explain how Agnes overcame her fear and the evil which ruled
the Roman people.
3. Think about the story and explain what Agnes was required to
give up in order to follow Jesus.

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What Do You Think?
4. After reading the first few paragraphs about the home of Agnes,
what do you envision that your daily life would be like if you
were her?
5. What must you do in your life to belong to Jesus as Agnes did?

Vocabulary
A.D. about the year A.D. 294
accounted we are accounted as sheep
ascended Who had risen again and ascended to heaven
catacombs The Catacombs form a maze of underground passages
compel to compel the Christians to deny
courts in the courts of heaven
edict he issued edict after edict to compel
gilded in the gilded, glittering world
glittering in the gilded, glittering world
incensed Diocletian was incensed against them
inheritance for the inheritance of the saints in light
initial are the initial letters of that sentence
malice envy and malice could easily find a way
marble she trode the marble halls
mosaic with mosaic floors, marble pillars, porticoes
patrician Agnes, the young patrician
porticoes with mosaic floors, marble pillars, porticoes
proclamation public proclamation was made that
severed the poor severed body
stateliness under all the stateliness, luxury, and seeming ease
surmount I shall surmount and escape
trode She trode the marble halls
vigilant became more vigilant
vindictive became more vigilant and vindictive

Page -35-
 Lesson VI
There’s Work Enough To Do

The blackbird early leaves its nest

To meet the smiling morn,
And gather fragments for the nest
From upland, wood, and lawn.
The busy bee will wing its way
’Mid scenes of varied hue,
And every flower would seem to say,
“There’s work enough to do.”

The cowslip and the spreading vine,

The daisy in the grass,
The snow-drop and the eglantine
Preach sermons as we pass.
The ant within its cavern deep
Would bid us labor too;
And writes upon his tiny heap—
“There’s work enough to do.”

Who, then, can sleep when all around

Is active, fresh, and free?
Shall man—Creation’s lord—be found
Less busy than the bee?
Our courts and alleys are the field,
If men would search them through,

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 That best the fruits of labor yield,
And work enough to do.

To have a heart for those who weep;

The sottish drunkard win;
To rescue all the children, deep
In ignorance and sin;
To help the poor, the hungry feed,
To give him coat and shoe;
To see that all can write and read—
Is work enough to do.

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 The time is short, the world is wide,
And much has to be done;
The wondrous earth and all its pride
Will vanish with the sun;
The moments fly on lightning’s wings
And life’s uncertain too;
We’ve none to waste on foolish things,
There’s work enough to do.
From “Rural New Yorker,” 1860

“I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night
cometh, when no man can work.” —John 9:4

Questions
1. What does the poem mean when it says we are Creation’s lord?
2. From the pictures of nature painted by the poem, what do you
think the author of the poem is trying to admonish us to do, and
how is he doing so?
3. The poem says that nature preaches sermons to us, and the
ant writes that we have work enough to do. Do you think this
literally happens, or is the poem trying to give us a picture from
nature? Explain your answer.
4. After reading the poem, describe how the person who wrote the
poem would feel about wasting time with foolish activities.

What Do You Think?

5. Do you have any foolish activities which you enjoy doing?
In light of this poem, do you think you should continue doing
them?

Page -38-
Vocabulary
active is active, fresh, and free
alleys our courts and alleys are the field
cavern the ant within its cavern deep
eglantine the snow-drop and the eglantine
fragments and gather fragments for the nest
lawn from upland, wood, and lawn
lord shall man—Creation’s lord—be found
morn to meet the smiling morn
scenes ’mid scenes of varied hue
sermons preach sermons as we pass
snow-drop the snow-drop and the eglantine
sottish the sottish drunkard win
uncertain and life’s uncertain too
upland from upland, wood, and lawn
vanish will vanish with the sun
varied ’mid scenes of varied hue
win the sottish drunkard win
wood from upland, wood, and lawn

Page -39-
 Lesson VII
Praying for Rain

It was the first of July and there had been no rain for several
weeks. Every one feared there would be a drought. The farmer
looked anxiously upon his fields of corn, whose deep green leaves had
not yet begun to turn yellow, and upon the potatoes, whose blossoms
were still not withered. They could not remain thus, beautiful and
thriving, if the refreshing rain was withheld. The ground was so dry
that, in hoeing the garden, no moisture could be observed.
Mrs. Johnson talked with her children about the need of rain, and
the propriety of praying to our heavenly Father to water the earth,
that it might “bring forth and bud,” and “give seed to the sower, and
bread to the eater.” She told them how Elijah prayed for rain after
there had been none in the land of Canaan for three years and six
months, and how God heard his prayer, “and the heaven gave rain,
and the earth brought forth her fruit.”
This great drought was a judgment upon the people of Israel for
their sin in departing from God, and worshipping idols. There had
been, in consequence of this want of rain, a “sore famine.” We read
in the book of Kings of one poor woman, who had only a handful of
meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse. When Elijah met her, and
asked her for water, and a morsel of bread, she told him this was all
she had, and that she was gathering two sticks, that she might bake
it for herself and her son, that they might eat and die! She knew not
where to find any more food for herself or her child, and expected to
“pine away, stricken through for want of the fruits of the field,” and

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to die with hunger.
Elijah bid her not to fear, but to go and do what she had said.
He asked her to make him a little cake first, and bring it to him, and
afterwards make one for herself and son. “For thus saith the LORD
God of Israel, the barrel of meal shall not waste, neither shall the cruse
of oil fail, until the day that the LORD sendeth rain upon the earth.”
It would not have been strange if this widow of Zarephath had
been unwilling to divide her handful of meal with Elijah, or if she
had doubted the promise which was made to her; but she did not.
She baked the little cake for the stranger, and afterwards one for
herself and her boy, and there was plenty of meal and oil left for
another repast. “She, and he, and her house, did eat many days.”
The barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail, until
the Lord sent rain upon the earth, and her wants could be supplied in
the usual way. She did not lose the reward promised to those who
give a cup of cold water to the friends of God.
God does not willingly afflict the creatures He has made. He is
a gracious God, merciful, and of great kindness, and has compassion
Page -41-
even on the beasts of the field.
When Jonah complained that God
spared Nineveh—because after
having sent Jonah to prophesy to
them that in forty days it should be
overthrown, its inhabitants humbled
themselves before God and turned
from their evil way— God said to
Jonah, “Should I not spare Nineveh,
that great city, wherein are more
than sixscore thousand persons that
cannot discern between their right
hand and their left; and also much
cattle?”
In this long drought in the land
of Canaan, the cattle must have
suffered greatly, and many of them probably perished. Indeed, we
read that Ahab, the king of Israel, and Obadiah, the governor of his
house, searched the land for the fountains and brooks to find grass
to save the horses and mules alive, that they might not be all lost.
God is a father, and, like a tender, loving father, He removes His
chastisements so soon as they have produced the effect designed. He
was “grieved for the misery of Israel.” He told Elijah he would send
rain. The prophet went to Ahab, who, when he saw him, asked, “Art
thou he that troubleth Israel?” Elijah answered that it was Ahab, and
his father’s house, who troubled Israel, because they had forsaken
the commandments of the Lord, and worshipped Baalim.
Elijah went up to the top of Mount Carmel, and earnestly prayed
for rain. God had promised that He would send it, and Elijah no doubt
pleaded this promise as he interceded with Him. Elijah directed his
servant to go where he could look toward the sea. He went and
looked, and said, “There is nothing.” Elijah was not discouraged.

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He knew God would remember His promise, and Elijah sent him
seven times more. The seventh time the servant returned and said,
“Behold, there ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man’s hand.”
It grew rapidly larger and larger, until the sky was black with clouds
and wind, and there was a great rain.
James, in his Epistle, says, “The effectual fervent prayer of a
righteous man availeth much,” and he mentions this instance of
prevailing prayer in Elijah, as an encouragement to all Christians to
ask for needed blessings. “Elias was a man subject to like passions
as we are,” he tells us, and if he prevailed with God, so may others.
God is the “same yesterday, today, and forever.” He does not change.
He is always a hearer of prayer.
Mrs. Johnson also told her children that God hears the cry of
all who are in distress. She referred to one of the psalms of David,
where he describes a storm at sea, and the great terror of the sailors.
“Then they cried unto the LORD in their trouble, and he delivered
them out of their distresses.”
God does not forget any creature He has made. He provides the
springs and the streams to give drink to the beasts of the field, and
to the birds which sing among the branches. He causes the grass to
grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man. He feeds the
fowls, and clothes the flowers with beauty. He has taught us to ask
for our daily bread, and as this must depend upon fruitful seasons, it
is proper that we should ask for rain, whenever it is needed.
The children were quite interested in what their mother had told
them. They knew that she earnestly desired rain, and that she often
asked God to send it, before vegetation perished for want of it. They
watched the sky with great anxiety, and when it became cloudy, and
continued so from day to day, they thought surely a storm was near.
After several days, there was a slight shower, but not enough to
refresh the plants. Missy was greatly disappointed. “I thought,” she
said to her mother, “it was going to rain in answer to your prayer.”

Page -43-
 “I thanked God for that little rain,” said Johnny, as he talked
about it. Mrs. Johnson told him that he was right, but they ought to
pray for more, as it was so much needed.
The next Sunday Mrs. Johnson was not well, and could not
attend church. When her children returned, she asked Missy if they
prayed for rain. “No, Mother!” she answered; “but I did.”
The sky continued cloudy for some time, and then the rain gently
fell for a day and a night, and all nature was refreshed and cheered.
Soon afterwards I left Mrs. Johnson’s family. When I had been
absent about a fortnight, I received a letter from Missy. She told me
about the flowers and many other things in which I was interested.
She wrote that it had “rained on Sunday and all day Monday. I cannot
help thinking,” she continued, “how good God is to send us rain
when we most need it, and what cause we have for thanksgiving.”
I hope Mrs. Johnson’s children will never forget that God is
the giver of every good gift, and that He likes to have people ask
Him for what they need. Children should think of God as their best
friend, and should go to Him in prayer, feeling as sure that He can
and does hear them as they are that their mother does. In a season
of drought they should ask Him for rain, and when He sends it to
make vegetation grow, they should thank Him for that evidence of
His loving-kindness.

“But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God
must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently
seek him.” —Hebrews 11:6

Questions
1. After reading the beginning of the story, what sort of picture do
you see in your mind as to the location or setting of this story?
2. What do you think Mrs. Johnson was trying to teach her children
by telling them the Bible story about Elijah?

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3. When there had been a slight shower, what was the right attitude
to have toward God— Missy’s attitude or Johnny’s? Why?
4. How does the rain give us a picture of God’s goodness?

What Do You Think?

5. What are some things for which you pray and ask God?

Vocabulary
avail(eth) fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much
brooks searched the land for the fountains and brooks
chastisements He removes His chastisements
cruse neither did the cruse of oil fail
designed they have produced the effect designed
discern that cannot discern between their right hand
drought in a season of drought
effectual the effectual fervent prayer
famine this want of rain, a sore famine
fortnight absent about a fortnight
fowls He feeds the fowls
governor the governor of his house
gracious a gracious God, merciful
overthrown it should be overthrown
passions subject to like passions
prevailing this instance of prevailing prayer
prophesy sent Jonah to prophesy to them
propriety the propriety of praying
repast plenty of meal and oil left for another repast
stricken stricken through for want of the fruits of the field
thriving they could not remain thus, beautiful and thriving
vegetation to make vegetation grow
waste the barrel of meal shall not waste
withered whose blossoms were still not withered

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 Lesson VIII
Sam Silver’s Thanksgiving

It was the day before Thanksgiving, and the whole household

at Sunny Hill was in a state of the happiest confusion imaginable.
There was a roaring fire in the old-fashioned brick oven, and the
kitchen table was a perfect chaos of sugar, raisins, eggs, flour, and
spices. Mamma, with her snowy apron, flittered hither and thither
with busy flour-covered hands, worked with such a flurry that in a
little while the whole house was fragrant with steaming pumpkin
pies, and the odor of rich brown doughnuts.
Without, it was very cold and dismal. The trees seemed to
be shivering and stretching out their arms, like so many poor old
beggars whose clothes had gone to tatters and were falling off; and
the heavy, gray clouds seemed to droop low as if to tell them to
be patient, for they were bringing the trees a suit of ermine which
would make them look like princes.
A cold wind rushed around the corners of the house, trying to
find some way to get in, but the little children at the window laughed
at the vain attempts, and talked merrily in the pauses of the gale.
“I wonder if they’ll all come,” cried Susy Gray, gleefully. “What
fun we’ll have!”
“It’s a great thing to have so many cousins and aunts and uncles,”
said Fred. “And what a capital dinner they’ll have—roast turkey,
chicken pie—”
“Ah,” said the golden-haired Dolly, with a half regret dawning
in her wide-open eyes, “do you know, I think the old black hen

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misses her chickens, and has been calling all day for Speckle and
Graybeard. I wonder how she would feel if she could see them now,
without a single feather on their backs, and their poor, cold legs tied
tight together.”
“Oh, Dolly; don’t be a goose; she’ll never know the difference.

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Let’s talk about tomorrow. There’ll be Mary and Fanny, Tyler, and
Charley and Carrie Burton, and better than all, Sam Silver. He’s
just the funniest and best-natured of all the cousins, though I’m sure
I don’t see how he can be when he lives with that terribly cross old
grandfather, who scolds him every day within an inch of his life.”
“That’s coming pretty close,” said Charley.
“Poor Sam,” sighed Dolly—“no father nor mother to love
him.”
“Well,” cried Fred, “he shall have a good time tomorrow. He
shall be king, and choose all the games, and he shall have the
brownest doughnuts, and the biggest piece of chicken pie.”
“And the turkey wishbone,” added Dolly, who considered that a
mark of distinction.
“He may possibly come today,” said Charley; and shading his
eyes, he peered anxiously down the gray line of the road.
But we can see what Charley couldn’t: and six miles away stands
little Sam Silver, in great coat and mittens, talking eagerly with his
grandfather.
“You see, sir, if I go now, I shall get there just at dark; but if I
wait until tomorrow morning, I’ll be too late to go to church with all
the cousins.”
“All folly,” said Grandfather Silver, as a twinge of rheumatism
made him feel more impatient than ever. “You must first finish your
usual day’s work before you go.”
“I’ll do twice as much when I come back,” pleaded Sam.
“It must be done today,” said the old grandfather, firmly; and
Sam, patiently pulling off his mittens, went into the backyard.
The short autumn afternoon had far advanced when at last he
had permission to go.
“Six miles before dark,” said Sam to himself. “I shall have to take
the express train.” And he looked down with cheerful confidence at
the stout pair of feet clattering nimbly over the frozen ground.

Page -48-
 “Perhaps I had better take the shortcut through the woods, for
I won’t have time to go around by the road.” In a few minutes his
bright scarlet scarf was seen bobbing in and out between the dark
pine trees, and his cheery whistle pleasantly awoke the little birds
napping in their warm shelter from the cold November rain.
But presently, as the early evening began to close in, and he was
still in the midst of the dark woods, his merry whistle ceased, and he
said, half aloud, “It would be a poor joke if I should happen to lose
my way. Grandfather might have let me start before. How cross he
was today. Now, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I really don’t see
that I’ve a great deal to be thankful about. If I were only Charley or
Fred Gray, I’d feel a little more like it. What pleasant lives they do
lead, to be sure. They have a mother and father ready to do anything
for them, dear little sisters to love them, and scarcely anything to do
but just study their lessons. Now, when I go home, Grandfather will
have something cross to say the minute I put my head in the door,
and will call out, ‘To work, to work, you lazy dog; you’ve had a long
play spell.’ Then, when I have worked hard all day, there’s no kind
mother to say, as Aunt Gray does to her boys, ‘Come here, Sam, my
dear son; you look cold and tired. Come sit by the fire and rest your
head on my lap.’ Grandfather will just call out—‘To bed, to bed if
you’re tired; and mind you’re up with the birds.’ No, No,” said Sam,
growing more and more discontented as his thoughts ran on, “I don’t
think I’ve much to be thankful for, and I believe I won’t go to church
tomorrow morning.”
He walked a few minutes in silence, then, looking uneasily
around, continued onward. “How gloomy it has grown. Shouldn’t
wonder if I had lost my way, after all. I can’t see the least sign
of the path. There, that looks a little more like an opening,” and
Sam sprang anxiously forward. A few hasty steps through the thick
undergrowth, and his footing suddenly gave way. The little gray
mittens flew up in the air, and clutched desperately at an overhanging

Page -49-
tree, but it was too late. In the uncertain light he had come suddenly
upon the edge of a deep ravine, and now he rolled helplessly over
and over, clutching vainly at every bush and twig, and only stopping
when he lay bruised and breathless at the bottom. Tears sprang to
his eyes, but he brushed them off, and looked quickly around to see
if there had been any spectators of his mishap. But no; there were
only the tall old pine trees looking over the edge of the ravine, and
nodding their heads in a sort of solemn wonder, as much as to say,
“Why, Sam Silver, how in the world came you down there?”
But Sam found that he could neither stand nor walk without
the greatest difficulty. He had sprained one foot very badly, and
after toiling on for some time, trying to find a good place to climb
up again, he was forced to sit down and think what in the world
he should do next. Gloom gathered fast in the deep ravine, and
he soon perceived that he would have to spend the night where he
was. Striving manfully against some strange thoughts that would
set his heart beating unpleasantly fast, poor Sam gathered a large
pile of withered leaves under an overhanging rock, and laid himself
carefully down. It was not a very pleasant bed for such a bundle of
bruises; and Sam could not help remembering the soft feathers and
nice warm blankets at home, for, after all, Grandfather Silver was
kind in a rough way, and wished Sam to have every comfort.
“That was a nice bed, sure enough,” sighed Sam.
“Nothing in the world to be thankful for,” a voice seemed to
whisper close to his ear.
Sam started and blushed crimson; then, not liking to pursue such
a train of thoughts, he tucked his head under his scarf, and tried to
go to sleep. But again and again he would start up, trembling, as
the wind rustled the dry leaves, until they sounded like the stealthy
tread of some wild animal. He would listen for a long time with a
sick heart and staring eyes, until, gradually conquering his fears,
he would sink into a troubled sleep. At last he thought he heard

Page -50-
someone calling him. “Sam, Sam, Sam!”
“All right,” cried he, cheerily, “here I am.” But, alas! it was only
a couple of crows bidding each other good morning, for the day had
begun to dawn.
Sam sat up, though the tears came in his eyes as he tried to bend
his stiff limbs. He made an effort to walk, but it was worse than
the night before. He could not bear his weight on one foot without
almost screaming with pain. He tried to crawl along, but the ground
was so uneven, and his foot so stiff, that he began to feel very faint,
and laid down in despair.
Just then a vision of nice hot cakes and coffee came temptingly
before him. “What a nice breakfast we used to have every morning,”
murmured Sam.
“Nothing in the world to be thankful for,” said the voice, and
Sam blushed again. He began to be afraid that he had been very
ungrateful. Grandfather really was very kind, though he did scold a
little now and then. He gave Sam his nice warm clothes sent him to
school, and was proud when he did well. And if he only knew that
Sam was sick and sore down in that lonely ravine, how quickly he
would send someone to get him out! But now who would ever find
him? He might die before anybody missed him.
“I have been very wicked,” sighed Sam; and, with the gray
mittens pressed over his eyes, he sat and thought remorsefully, while
the hours rolled on, and the snow began to fall.
Suddenly he heard the sound of the sweet church bells, and knew
it was time for the morning service. He thought of the happy, bright
cousins, sitting in a row in the family pew, and the sweet voice of
his favorite “Golden Hair” singing “We Praise Thee, O God!” And
he might have been sitting by their side. Then again he thought
he heard a voice sounding in his ears, “Nothing in the world to be
thankful for.” And with tears streaming down his cheeks, Sam again
confessed, “I have been very wicked and ungrateful. Oh, forgive me,

Page -51-
dear Father in heaven, and do not leave me to die in these woods.”
Then everything became confused. He thought he was falling
again down, down, down, and he knew no more until he opened his
eyes and found himself lying in bed, in a pleasant warm room, with
Aunt Gray bending tenderly over him.
“He’s alive!” cried Dolly, eagerly peeping around Mamma’s
dress. Then the tender-hearted little cousins outside the door burst
out with a smothered “Hurrah!”
“Let them in,” pleaded Sam; and they stole in on tiptoe, kissed
his pale lips, and stood lovingly around the bed, telling him, with
eager, subdued voices, how they wondered why he didn’t come—

Page -52-
how they sent for him, and how John never would have found him if
it hadn’t been for Carlo, the great dog; and a great deal more, which
we haven’t time to repeat.
“You have had rather a sad Thanksgiving, dear child,” said Aunt
Gray, bending over to kiss him.
“Oh, no,” cried Sam, quickly. “I’ve a great deal to be thankful
for.”
“Come, children,” called Uncle Gray at the door. “It is an hour
past your sleep time.”
“Let’s sing a Thanksgiving hymn before we go,” urged Dolly.
And as the children joined in full chorus, loud and sweet above
them all rose the clear voice of grateful Sam Silver—

“Praise God, from Whom all blessing flow.”

“Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name
of our Lord Jesus Christ;” —Ephesians 5:20

Questions
1. Describe what conditions you imagine outside the house on the
day the story took place.
2. In the beginning of the story, after hearing the children discuss
Sam’s grandfather, what did you think about the grandfather?
3. How did Sam view his grandfather as he walked to his cousin’s
house?
4. Think about the details we know about Sam’s life from the story
before he falls. What clue do we have that would tell us that he
does not look at his grandfather correctly?
5. Why did the small voice whispering in Sam’s ear embarrass
him?
6. After reading the entire story and learning much more about
Sam’s grandfather, what do we find out about him?

Page -53-
What Do You Think?
7. This story teaches us that we can always be unthankful for
something, however we should always strive to be thankful for
everything. What are you not happy or thankful for in your life?
How can you look at those things differently so that you can be
thankful for those things?

Vocabulary
capital and what a capital dinner they’ll have
chaos table was a perfect chaos of sugar, raisins, eggs
confusion was in a state of the happiest confusion
cross Grandfather will have something cross to say
dawning with a half regret dawning in her wide-open eyes
despair and laid down in despair
distinction who considered that a mark of distinction
ermine the trees a suit of ermine
express to take the express train
flittered flittered hither and thither
gale talked merrily in the pauses of the gale
gradually gradually conquering his fears
manfully striving manfully against some strange thoughts
ravine down in that lonely ravine
remorsefully he sat and thought remorsefully
rheumatism as a twinge of rheumatism made him feel
scolds who scolds him every day
smothered door burst out with a smothered “Hurrah!”
spectators had been any spectators of his mishap
spell you’ve had a long play spell
tatters whose clothes had gone to tatters
thither flittered hither and thither
twinge as a twinge of rheumatism

Page -54-
 Lesson IX
Fannie’s Opportunity

The “willing workers” were very busy. Tongues as well as

fingers flew. Marvelous seams were sewn and marvelous stories
told. The girls were fitting up a box to go to Albuquerque, and
no storm kept them indoors. How swiftly whole pieces of cloth
assumed the proportions of well-fitting garments! “What did Miss
Smith mean about our giving our work to home missions and our
money to foreign?” asked sweet Fannie Hays.
“Mean? Why, just that, I suppose! We are going to send this box
of clothing to the Indian school, and we have pledged our collections
for six months to the school at Tokyo—I guess that’s the one.” It
was Lena Howard who made this explanation, which was Greek to
poor little Fannie.
“I know, but I don’t know what she meant by home and foreign,”
said puzzled Fannie.
“Why, Fannie Hays! You don’t know what home missions and
foreign missions are!” exclaimed May Brooks. She said this not ill-
naturedly, but with just a touch of contempt for such ignorance.
“You forget,” said Miss Smith, who had just turned toward the
group, “that little Fannie has only lately become one of us.”
“I never heard much about missions until I joined this missions
band, and I want to find things out now,” said Fannie.
“May, suppose you explain to Fannie what she does not
understand about our work,” said Miss Smith.
“Why, I suppose home missions are among people like ourselves,

Page -55-
except that they have never heard the Gospel. I suppose foreign
missions are among other people: those who live far away and are
of a different culture.”
Miss Smith said, smiling, “How is it then about our Indians, my
dear little friend?”
“I never thought about it before, but I should think they would
belong to the foreign missions.”
“Miss Smith, won’t you tell us all about it?” asked Flora
Brown.
“Well, missions are divided into two branches: home and
foreign; by home missions we mean work in our own country among
those who have not heard about the Lord Jesus and also the poor
people who are destitute, whether black or white, yellow or copper-

Page -56-
colored. Work among the Alaskan Indians, the Chinese people of
San Francisco, the Freedmen of the South, the destitute of our great
cities, and the miners of the Western States is all classified under
home missions. Meanwhile, preaching the Gospel to the Chinese
or Japanese in their countries, or to the natives in Indian jungles, or
along the swamps and rivers of Africa, or in the pestilential climate of
Central America, or in the adobe huts of Mexico is foreign work.”
“But, Miss Smith,” began Lena, “the other day I read something
which puzzled me. In one of the missionary magazines there was
something about mission work in several Eastern states. I remember
New York and Pennsylvania were mentioned. I am sure the Gospel
has been preached in those states for hundreds of years!”
“Yet there is missionary ground even in the great Empire State,”
Miss Smith replied. “There are places where the majority of the
people are too indifferent to Christianity to be willing to help support
the Gospel, and for the sake of the few who do prize it, and in the
hope of leading others to receive it, Christians elsewhere help to
sustain churches in these places. In these old and long settled states
it is not because the people have never heard the Gospel that we
support missionaries among them, but because they do not care for
its privileges and offers.”
“We need a missionary in this town!” said Flora, with considerable
emphasis. “There are lots of people who never go to church!”
“That is true,” replied Miss Smith, with a touch of weariness in
her voice, as if it were a sad fact which no one could help.
Fannie heard the remark and the reply and thought much about
it. She reflected that she could not be a foreign missionary; neither
could she, as Miss Smith intended to do, go into the Indian Territory
to teach the Indians, but could she not reach somebody? Might she
not be the home missionary which Flora said was needed in their
own village?
Each day on her way to school she passed a pretty house with

Page -57-
lovely grounds, and many times it had happened that Mrs. Grey,
the mistress of the home and grounds, had been outside among
the walks; and somehow the young girl and the sad-faced woman
had come to know each other. The Greys were newcomers in
the neighborhood, but Fannie had noticed that they never went to
church. Doctor Grey was generally starting upon his round of calls
as Fannie went to Sunday school. Mrs. Grey often smiled upon
her young acquaintance as she sat in her robe near the window,
and, indeed, she was often sitting there in the same costume when
Fannie returned from church. Thinking this over, Fannie said to
herself, what if I should ask her to go to church? The thought stayed
with her, and finally an opportunity came which Fannie afterwards
declared “seemed made on purpose.”
As she came in sight of the house that Sabbath morning, the
doctor was just driving off, and Mrs. Grey stood at the gate dressed
for the street. She smiled as Fannie came up and said, “I was going
to ride with the doctor this morning, but just as we were starting a
boy came to tell him to go at once to set a broken leg over at the
Mills, so my ride is spoiled.”
“I am sorry you are disappointed!” said Fannie. “I wonder if
you wouldn’t like to go with me to our church?”
Mrs. Grey looked down upon the eager face smilingly and said,
“But what would I do there?”
“Why, there’s a visitor’s seat; or you could go in a class if you
liked.”
“I suppose I might as well,” said Mrs. Grey reflectively. “The
doctor will go on his rounds after he sets the broken limb, and will be
gone all day. Maybe it will break the loneliness—I am very lonely
sometimes, little Fannie!”
Fannie looked up with sympathy in her face.
“I had a dear little girl once, but she went away and I have been
very lonely ever since. I have not been in a Sunday school since I

Page -58-
was your age,” said Mrs. Grey as they reached the door. “I am afraid
I shall not know how to conduct myself properly.”
This seemed quite impossible to her young and admiring
friend. How it was, Mrs. Grey could never tell, but the enthusiastic
superintendent took her by storm and carried her away to a class
of ladies who had for a teacher a gentleman more enthusiastic, if
possible, than the superintendent himself! And so interested was this
newcomer that she unhesitatingly allowed her name to be enrolled
as a member of the class.
“I can’t think what the doctor will say!” she said as she followed
Fannie into the church, adding, “I may as well stay now that I am
here.”
A year later Mrs. Grey said to her pastor, who had just received
herself and her husband into church membership, “And it all came
of Fannie Hays asking me to go to church with her that morning;
and that was not a mere happening, as I have found out since. She
had been praying for an opportunity, and was on the lookout for the
answer to her prayer.”

“And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to
every creature.” —Mark 16:15

Questions
1. What were the “willing workers” doing, and why were they
doing it?
2. How do you think the other girls’ comments made Fannie feel,
and why did they make them?
3. Explain the difference between home missions and foreign
missions.
4. What sequence of events led to Fannie asking Mrs. Grey to
church?

Page -59-
What Do You Think?
5. Toward the end of the story we see that Fannie affected Mr. and
Mrs. Grey’s life in a large way. Do you think Fannie expected
for the story to end the way it did when she asked Mrs. Grey to
church? Explain your answer.
6. In what ways might you have a mission work in your life?

Vocabulary
adobe in the adobe huts of Mexico
assumed cloth assumed the proportions of
band I joined this missions band
classified the Western States is all classified
climate the pestilential climate of Central America
contempt a touch of contempt for such ignorance
costume sitting there in the same costume
destitute the destitute of our great cities
enrolled name to be enrolled as a member of the class
enthusiastic more enthusiastic, if possible
foreign adobe huts of Mexico is foreign work
indifferent people are too indifferent to Christianity lately
lookout was on the lookout for the answer
majority the majority of the people
marvelous marvelous stories told
Mexico adobe huts of Mexico is foreign work
mistress the mistress of the home
pestilential the pestilential climate of Central America
pledged we have pledged our collections
privileges they do not care for its privileges and offers
prize few who do prize it
proportions the proportions of well-fitting garments
unhesitatingly she unhesitatingly allowed her name to be
enrolled

Page -60-
 Lesson X
Grandmother Bronson

“It is just wonderful to hear her read in the Bible,” said Estelle,
talking about her grandmother, as she was fond of doing. “It doesn’t
matter how seemingly dull the chapter is that you pick out; she is
sure to have some sweet new thought about it. I wish I loved to
read it as well as she does, and knew half as much about it. I don’t
believe you could pick out a place from which she wouldn’t give
you a new thought.”
“I do,” asserted Stuart Harper, who was leaning against the door
pulling yellow roses to pieces and scattering the petals on the piazza.
Stuart was one of those boys who was always picking things to pieces.
“My small brother was stumbling through a lot of hard names in his
Bible reading this morning, just because they belonged to the next
chapter in his course. I said to Mother that I didn’t believe there
was any good to be gotten out of a list of names, if they were in the
Bible; I don’t believe even your grandmother could make anything
of them.”
“Let’s try her,” exclaimed Estelle. “She is in her room with her
knitting; she is always ready to read to us. Let us all go in and ask
her to read that chapter. Can you find the place, Stuart?”
The idea was no sooner broached, than the whole troop of
grandchildren, with Tiny at their heels, and Stuart Harper and
Francis Holmes following more quietly, started for Grandmother’s
room. She received them cordially, in no way surprised, for she was
used to many visits from the young people. Neither did she consider

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it a burden to be asked to read;
this was a favorite afternoon
pastime, and Grandmother saw
no reason why it should not be
as pleasant a thing on Tuesday
as on the Sabbath.
“Stuart wants you to
read from the first chapter of
Numbers, beginning at the
fifth verse,” explained Estelle.
“He wants to ask you some
questions about it.”
So Grandmother read: “
‘And these are the names of
the men that shall stand with
you: of the tribe of Rueben;
Elizur the son of Shedeur. Of
Simeon; Shelumiel the son
of Zurishaddai. Of Judah;
Nahshon the son of Amminadad. Of Issachar; Nethaneel the son of
Zuar. Of Zebulun; Eliab the son of Helon.’
“I never read over these names,” said Grandmother, looking up
over her spectacles, “but I think of your father. When he was a little
boy he liked to read them, and to imagine how he should feel if he
should read there, ‘Tommy, the son of Jeremiah.’ That was your
grandfather’s name, you know; and your father said he knew he
should hold up his head proudly at the thought of being the son of
such a good man as Jeremiah.
“ ‘But Mother,’ says he, ‘what if Father couldn’t hold up his
head when my name was called because he was ashamed of me?’ ”
And Grandmother laughed a little, and at the same moment daubed
a tear from her faded eye, and then resumed her reading.

Page -62-
 “ ‘Of the children of Joseph: of Ephraim; Elishama the son of
Ammihud: of Mannasseh; Gamaliel the son of Pedahzur.’ ”
Then she paused again. “Did you ever think, children, what a
beautiful thing it is that the Lord knows us all so well that He can
call all our names? I love to think of Him as speaking of my children
and grandchildren, and setting them their tasks to do for Him.”
It was a solemn thought, as well as a sweet one, and a concept
that ought to have roused some serious thoughts among them. The
grandchildren were quiet, but Stuart could not resist the temptation
to clap his hands. This made Grandmother look up inquisitively,
and then the whole story came out.
“But I still think,” said Stuart, “that it would take a woman like
Grandmother to find the crumb in such verses as those.”
“Read on, my boy,” said Grandmother. “Read on to the last
verse: ‘And the children of Israel did according to all that the LORD
commanded.’ Are you children doing so?”

“A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour
rather than silver and gold.” —Proverbs 22:1

Questions
1. Describe how you think Estelle felt about her grandmother.
2. Explain how Stuart felt about the passage in Numbers before
Grandmother read it.
3. What thoughts did Grandmother have on the passage from
Numbers?
4. What challenge did Grandmother give the children?

What Do You Think?

5. How are you striving to meet Grandmother’s challenge?

Page -63-
Vocabulary
according according to all that the LORD commanded
asserted “I do,” asserted Stuart Harper
broached the idea was no sooner broached
burden neither did she consider it a burden
concept a concept that ought to have roused some serious
thoughts
cordially she received them cordially
course belonged to the next chapter in his course
crumb to find the crumb in such verses
daubed daubed a tear from her faded eye
favo(u)r and loving favour
inquisitively Grandmother look up inquisitively
ought that ought to have roused some serious thoughts
pastime a favorite afternoon pastime
piazza scattering the petals on the piazza
roused to have roused some serious thoughts
seemingly it doesn’t matter how seemingly dull
spectacles looking up over her spectacles
troop the whole troop of grandchildren

Page -64-
 Lesson XI
Minnie’s Influence

They came out of the chapel and walked down the street together;
they were always together, those two. People used to say:
“What an influence Minnie seems to have over that impulsive
little Julia! I am glad Julia has such a conscientious girl for a
friend.”
They had been to the early prayer meeting. It was a precious
little meeting. Just the young people of the church attended. There
were no long speeches or long prayers; there was a good deal of
singing, and there were many earnest loving hearts.
Julia Hollister was not a Christian, but her friend Minnie was.
On this particular evening Julia found herself wishing with a more
resolute spirit than usual that she, too, could say as she had often
heard Minnie say, “I love Jesus.” As she went slowly down the
chapel yard she was thinking just these thoughts:
“It is strange that Minnie doesn’t say something to me oftener
about being a Christian. She wants me to read the same books that
she does, and go to the same places, and study the same lessons,
and love the same people. I should think she would want me to be
a Christian too, and she hardly ever says a word about that. I wish
I were one, anyway; the people all seemed to be in earnest tonight.
How they prayed for Jennie Brooks when she asked them! I wish
somebody would ask them to pray that way for me, and tonight I
almost wanted to do it for myself. I wish I had; if Minnie had asked
me to, I believe I would. She doesn’t ask them to pray for her friends.

Page -65-
 I wonder if she doesn’t
want her father to be a
Christian? I mean to
go down to the other
meeting tonight. Dr.
Sherman said he wanted
us all to go, if we could;
maybe something will
happen to help me.
Maybe Minnie will ask
me to be a Christian.
If she does, I will ask
her to get them to pray
for me as they did for
Jennie Brooks.”
At this point in her
thought, Minnie clicked
the chapel gate, and
clipped along by the
side of her.
“Hasn’t Mr. Lesbrook a funny squeak to his voice?” she said. “I
always feel like laughing when he gets up.”
Julia said not a word. Mr. Lesbrook was the one who had framed
the prayer which so touched her heart. Minnie went on:
“I don’t see how Jennie Brooks can stand up there before so
many people and speak, do you?”
“I don’t know,” Julia said slowly. “If she really wants something
very much, I should think it couldn’t be very hard to say so.”
“It would for me,” Minnie said, positively. “I couldn’t do it,
I am sure; besides, I don’t like to hear it. My Aunt Kate says the
church is no place for a girl’s voice.”
“She recites poetry in the church at the lyceums,” Julia said.

Page -66-
 “Oh, well, that is different; it isn’t in meeting. Why, Julia, aren’t
you going down to the other meeting?” For Julia had suddenly
stopped at her own gate.
“Not tonight,” she said.
But Minnie spoke coaxingly. “Oh, Julia, do come; I thought you
would. I want you to go ever so much. Go with me, please? That’s
a good girl.”
Julia laid her hand on the gate, and turned a pair of bright saucy
eyes to her friend. “No,” she said gaily, “I can’t go tonight. I have
heard enough of Mr. Lesbrook’s squeaking voice. He will be sure to
take part; he always does, you know. You will have to do the second
meeting for you and me too. Good night.”
“Couldn’t you get Julia Hollister to come with you?” Celia
Milton asked, as she joined Minnie at the church door.
“No,” said Minnie, and she sighed as she spoke, for she felt
rather dispirited. “I coaxed her, but she wouldn’t come. She seemed
to feel more flippant and unconcerned than ever. She said she didn’t
want to hear Mr. Lesbrook again tonight. What a pity that man
wouldn’t keep still! So many dislike to hear him.”
“I know it,” Celia said. “I don’t see why they need him; he never
says but a few words.”
“And then another thing that influenced her,” interrupted Minnie,
“—at least I think it did—was that Jennie Brooks spoke; I suppose
she doesn’t like to hear her; so many people feel so, you know. If
they knew they were doing harm, I suppose they would think they
might rather keep still. Don’t you think so?”
Then they went into the church, Minnie saying as the door closed
on them:
“I am so sorry that Julia wouldn’t come tonight. I thought I
could get her to.”
About this time Julia Hollister stepped into her father’s door;
and as she did so she murmured:

Page -67-
 “The idea of her noticing a squeak in Mr. Lesbrook’s voice after
he had made such a prayer! I am not a Christian, but I couldn’t do
that. I guess I am about as good as the rest of them after all. I shan’t
ask them to pray for me very soon, I am afraid. If it isn’t proper for
Jennie Brooks, it wouldn’t be for me. And I certainly don’t want to
shock the dear good Christian people.”
The next day at school some of the girls said to each other with
a disappointed sigh:
“Julia Hollister doesn’t seem to think anything about these
things. It will be no use for us to say anything to her. If Minnie
cannot influence her, nobody can; and of course, she has tried.”

“A wholesome tongue is a tree of life: but perverseness therein is a breach

in the spirit.” —Proverbs 15:4

Questions
1. After reading the first three paragraphs of the story, what was
your impression of Julia and Minnie?
2. Do you think Julia was earnestly thinking about what had
happened at the prayer meeting, and was interested in what it
meant to be a Christian? Explain your answer.
3. Describe how you think Minnie felt and thought about the
prayer meeting she attended compared to the other people in
attendance.
4. The people who attended the prayer meeting prayed and spoke
sincerely from their heart. How would you describe Minnie’s
heart?
5. What caused Julia to suddenly change her mind about going to
the meeting, and why did she become disinterested in becoming
a Christian?

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What Do You Think?
6. There is a saying that actions speak louder than words. It is
important to always look at our actions and check to see whether
they match our words or not. Can you think of anything which
you do where your actions do not match your words?

Vocabulary
breach a breach in the spirit
chapel Minnie clicked the chapel gate
clipped clipped along by the side of her
coaxingly Minnie spoke coaxingly
conscientious Julia has such a conscientious girl for a friend
dispirited for she felt rather dispirited
flippant to feel more flippant and unconcerned
framed was the one who had framed the prayer
gaily “No,” she said gaily
impulsive over that impulsive little Julia
lyceums recites poetry in the church at the lyceums
perverseness but perverseness therein is a breach
positively Minnie said, positively
resolute wishing with a more resolute spirit
saucy turned a pair of bright saucy eyes
still that man wouldn’t keep still
therein but perverseness therein is a breach
wholesome a wholesome tongue is a tree of life

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 Lesson XII
The Two Shores

They built their castles on the beach;

They planned, and worked, and chatted, each;
They dug their moats along the shore;
They strove, the while, for more and more
Of shop, and store, and house, and land,
With no foundation but the sand.
Far out, the tide upon the sea
Was drawing landward steadily.

And only moments told the hour

When coming ocean’s whelming power
Should bury castle, tower, and wall,
House, store, and shop, and bridges all!
Sweep out all trace of toil and care
By all those lads and misses fair;
So that the morrow’s visitor,
Should see no trace of what was there.

But shall we think, who stand today,

Where all their works were washed away,
That naught remains—no fruit whatever,
Of toil so fair, and thoughts so clever?
Were not their fingers gaining skill?
Were not the brain, the heart, the will,

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 Yea, all the powers that God had given
Perhaps preparing thus for heaven?

It may be so; but we who stand

With feet yet resting on the sand,
Beside the ocean spreading wide,
The eternal ocean—hither side;
Shall we, too, build on such foundation,
Be satisfied with such creation?
That when eternity rolls in
Naught shall remain of what has been?
G. A. Rossenberg

“And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not,
shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand:”
—Matthew 7:26

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Questions
1. Describe in a few sentences the image the author was describing
on the beach.
2. Now picture in your mind the sea several miles out, remembering
that what you see out there is large enough to destroy the village
that the children have worked so hard to build. Describe what
you see.
3. As the waves crashed onto the shore and engulfed the entire
beach, what happened to the little village?
4. Looking at the last stanza of the poem and understanding the
author’s picture that the ocean represents eternity and the sand
represents the time of our lives, describe the contrast between
the ocean and the sand.

What Do You Think?

5. What is some work you are doing in your life for the ocean of
eternity rather than for the sandy shore today?

Vocabulary
chatted they planned, and worked, and chatted
clever and thoughts so clever
drawing was drawing landward steadily
gaining were not their fingers gaining skill
landward was drawing landward
misses by all those lads and misses fair
moats they dug their moats along the shore
morrow’s so that the morrow’s visitor
naught naught shall remain
tide far out, the tide upon the sea
trace sweep out all trace of toil and care
whelming when coming ocean’s whelming power

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 Lesson XIII
Brave Jamie Douglas
The Covenanter

Before I tell you the story of Jamie Douglas, I must remind you
a little about the noble Scottish Covenanters. The Solemn League
and Covenant was a declaration or vow made by Scottish people,
during the reign of Charles I, to guard the Church from idolatry, and
to uphold the Bible as its only standard of belief. Those who meant
to stand by this declaration were called Covenanters.
They, and their ministers, suffered cruel persecution, torture, and
death at the hands of the king’s men. They had to hold their meetings,
or conventicles, as they were called, in secret places, and, as the
Covenanting ministers had all been turned from their churches, they
had to find refuge where they could—in caves, in secret rooms, on
the moorland, and in the deep woods. Every Covenanter was always
ready to help, and feed, and shelter the homeless fugitive ministers;
but it was a dangerous thing to do, and they were often killed for
doing it. Nevertheless, they helped each other in all ways, and the
boys and girls bore a brave part in the terrible happenings during
the forty-five year period—1643-1688—when William, Prince of
Orange, came to the throne.
Life was very solemn, very sad to these children. Mothers,
fathers, brothers, and sisters were often ruthlessly separated and
scattered, or put to death. From day to day they never knew what
terrible things might happen.
Now you will understand the story of Jamie Douglas and others

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of the children of the Covenant about whom I want to tell you. I
expect some of you know how very delightful it is to run and
jump about on the moor and to see rabbits and other wild things
scurrying here and there. You delight to see butterflies hovering
over the bushes, and to hear bees humming about the heather with
the sunshine all round, and the fleecy clouds sailing across the blue
sky. You might see a bird mounting upwards, and singing its song of
praise, and perhaps a hundred other things would contribute to your
pleasure as you tramp or skip and jump along.
Well, many years ago, a small lad named Jamie Douglas was
walking over a rocky, broken, heather-covered, rough Scottish
moor. He was not free and easy in his walk; he did not whistle or
sing, and his progress was a careful one for two reasons. One was
that underneath his plaid he was carrying a parcel of food, and the
other reason was that he wanted to reach his destination without
being seen. So, very stealthily he went—past great bushes, now in
the shadow of a great rock, now on an open space, and into cover
again.
Some little distance away on the hillside overhung by sturdy
ash and oak there was a cave, and in that cave was an old Scottish
minister named Tam Roy. He was waiting for the arrival of Jamie
Douglas with the parcel of food from Jamie’s mother.
Tam Roy was hiding from Claverhouse, that cruel man who was
hunting for the brave Covenanters all over the moor, and putting
them to death.
So you understand why Jamie was trying so carefully to keep
as much out of sight as possible. He must give Pastor Tam Roy the
food, and he must not betray the old man’s hiding place. Well, he
knew that soldiers were possibly near, but he hoped for the best, and
he did his best.
On he went; it was only a short distance now—the great rock
with small trees in its crevices was a place to wait and look around.

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No one was in sight, but as he reached the end of this rock and
rounded the corner, there—waiting for him—were soldiers, some of
Claverhouse’s men.
Rough hands seized the little lad, and his plaid was nearly pulled
off, displaying the parcel he carried. “Ha! lad! You are bearing this
food to the old rebel, Tam Roy—are you not?” exclaimed one of his
captors.
Jamie went very white, but he said nothing. The man could feel
the boy’s body trembling, and he laughed. “Come you before our
leader,” he said, pushing Jamie along in the direction of a cruel-
looking man who was seated on a large rock.
The leader looked into Jamie’s white, brave face and asked:
“Where is the old man hiding, boy?”
“I will not tell you,” was the answer.
“Not if I let you go free?”
Jamie’s eyes flashed, and his reply was given in one word,

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“No!”
The man leapt up, infuriated, and gripped the boy’s shoulder.
“You dare defy me,” he roared. “See here what your end shall be if
you refuse to tell me where that old man is.”
He dragged the boy forward to the edge of a ravine close by.
It was dark, and deep, and rugged with broken rocks. The trees
clinging here and there to its steep sides seemed small and far away
in those gloomy depths.
“Down there you’ll go.” As he spoke, the man seized Jamie and
held him over the gulf for a moment, then roughly set him down
again.
“That’s where you’ll go,” said he.
“It’s awful deep,” the boy said, shuddering. Then he looked
round on the men. “Would ye throw me down—have ye no bairns
at home?” he pleaded.
“Come, come,” said the angry leader, fearful perhaps lest his
intention be frustrated, “tell me, or I fling you down the chasm.”
“I canna tell—I canna tell,” sobbed Jamie. Then he looked up
at the sky. The Lord Jesus, he remembered, had stood up to receive
Stephen. He would receive Jamie too.
“Throw me down. I’ll not show ye what ye want,” he said.
Furious at the boy’s steadfastness, the man seized the light form,
and lifting him high, cast him far over the edge. But before his
frail body reached the bottom of that deep chasm, it is more than
probable that his brave spirit had winged its flight heavenwards.
Pastor Tam Roy waited in his secret cave in vain for Jamie’s
coming, and the mother went often to her cottage door to see if
Jamie was returning. But when the quiet stars shone in the sky, and
still he did not appear, she knew that her next meeting with Jamie
would be in the Home above, that glorious place where evil will
never come, but perfect safety, perfect peace, and perfect love will
be ours forever.

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 “And there, among the saved at last,
For ever blest and glad,
The mother dear, and old Tam Roy,
Shall meet their bonnie lad.”

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no
more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more
pain: for the former things are passed away.” —Revelations 21:4

Questions
1. Who were the Scottish Covenanters, and what did they believe?
2. Describe the contrast between Jamie’s walk on the moor and a
normal child in another time.
3. Do you think Jamie volunteered to take the meal to Tam Roy?
Explain why.
4. Describe how you felt when Jamie was caught and the soldiers
threatened him.
5. If Jamie was terrified inside, how do you think he was able not
to tell the soldiers where Tam Roy was?

What Do You Think?

6. Many times fiction stories have happy endings, but many times
true stories do not. What did you think about the ending of this
story?

Vocabulary
bairns have ye no bairns at home
betray he must not betray the old man’s hiding place
chasm the bottom of that deep chasm
crevices small trees in its crevices
declaration to stand by this declaration

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defy you dare defy me
destination he wanted to reach his destination
fleecy the fleecy clouds sailing across the blue sky
fling I fling you down the chasm
former for the former things are passed away
frail before his frail body
fugitive shelter the homeless fugitive ministers
heather heather-covered, rough Scottish moor
hovering to see butterflies hovering over the bushes
infuriated he man leapt up, infuriated
moor heather-covered, rough Scottish moor
plaid and his plaid was nearly pulled off
refuge they had to find refuge where they could
reign during the reign of Charles I
ruthlessly were often ruthlessly separated
Scottish heather-covered, rough Scottish moor
shuddering the boy said, shuddering
steadfastness furious at the boy’s steadfastness
vow was a declaration or vow made by Scottish
people

Page -78-
 Lesson XIV
A Little White Casket

She was just as cross as anybody that you can imagine. Not the
little girl by the sofa with the dollies. Oh, no, that was Cora; she
was very quiet and pleasant; a little bit disappointed, but bearing it
bravely. It was Emma, the older sister, who was hopelessly cross.
She scolded the kitten and turned it out of the room; and when Cora
begged to keep the kitten, Emma said, “No, indeed; did she suppose
she was going to have that horrid little kitten under her heels all the
afternoon?” Then she sat down in the large rocker to nurse her wrath.
With whom was Emma angry? Well, truth to tell, she would not have
quite liked to own that she had just had a heavy disappointment.
There was a splendid meeting downtown this very afternoon; it was
a missionary meeting, and a real Chinaman in costume was going to
be there, and a little Japanese girl, and she, Emma, was to have read
the report of their Missionary Band, and was one of the singers; so
was Cora, for that matter, and here they both had to stay at home.
“Such perfect nonsense,” said Emma to herself, rocking back
and forth angrily. “Just a little sprinkle of rain that wouldn’t hurt
a kitten! Mamma is so afraid for Cora; I know it isn’t going to
rain any more. Just because she has just gotten over the measles,
she must be cooped up at home, and I have to stay with her. Other
children who have had the measles caper about, and don’t mind rain
nor anything; I think it is just too bad. Mamma might have stayed
herself.”
She didn’t mean that last; she knew her mamma was the presiding

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 officer and must be there.
If it were a possible
thing, and it really
wasn’t, Emma really
wouldn’t have had her
mamma stay in Emma’s
place for anything; but
she thought it was such
a relief to think cross
things. As she gloomed
over it, and thought how
all the rest of the Band
girls would be there, and
how much they would
miss her voice in the
singing, and how Alice
Parker would be likely
to read the report that
she, Emma, had written
so carefully, she kept
growing more cross every minute. Thus, when Cora, tired of her
dolls, and lonely without the kitten, and trying to be brave without
Mamma, and bear her own great big disappointment as well as she
could, came and leaned against her sister’s chair, and proposed that
they practice their duet, so as to play it beautifully for Mamma, she
was pushed away, and not very gently.
“No, indeed; she never wanted to hear that silly little duet again;
it was too babyish for a girl like her anyway; she wasn’t going to
play it, ever. For her part, she wished she could play anything, or
go anywhere, or do anything like other girls, without being always
tied to a little baby.” Then she flounced out of the room, shut the
door behind her, and sat down on the lowest steps of the side piazza,

Page -80-
where Cora could not come because of the dampness. Here she
meant to have a good time going over all her grievances. She was
right in the midst of them, her face as gloomy as night, when the
solemn “toll, toll, toll” of a bell made her look up and down the
street, and wonder if there was a funeral coming. Yes, there was the
hearse, drawn by white horses, and with white plumes all around it;
there was some little child inside the white casket, and then a long
line of carriages followed, slowly, slowly, oh, so solemnly.
“Who is dead?” This question was asked of Carrie Phillips as
she stopped at the gate to wait for the procession to pass.
“Oh, Emma Barstow! Didn’t you go, after all? I didn’t either; I
missed the train. But then I don’t mind because brother Aleck came
home unexpectedly. Why, that little bit of a Marshall girl is dead;
don’t you remember her? They live away up Selwyn Avenue.”
“What, that little curly-haired girl?”
“Yes, the one that looks like your Cora. I went to see her after
she died, and she did look just exactly like her.”
“I didn’t know she was sick,” said Emma with a little shiver.
“What was the matter with her?”
“Why, she had the measles, you know. She got all well; then
she took cold, and it went to her lungs, or something, and she didn’t
live but a few hours. Oh, Emma, it is really too bad.”
“I must go right in to Cora,” said Emma, rising suddenly, her
face as white as the dress she wore. She trembled so that she could
hardly get across the piazza. That little thing who looked “exactly
like” their Cora was being carried by in a white casket, on her way
to Laurel Hill. It might have been their Cora. Her heart stood still
while she thought of it, and of all the hard thoughts she had had
about staying with her darling sister.
What a sister Emma was for the rest of that day! The first thing
she did when she came in was to seize upon Cora and hug and kiss
her until the little thing was almost smothered. Then she was ready

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for anything. The duet? Why, she was willing to play it through
twenty times; she would dress and undress all the dolls; she called
in the kitten and let it climb on her shoulder and paw at her hair; and
every few minutes she would kiss Cora, and called her “Emma’s
darling pet.”
“Emma was just as good and sweet as two angels,” explained
Cora, earnestly, when the mother came home; and not a word said
the forgiving little girl about the first half hour of misery when the
cat was scolded, and everything went wrong.
“I am very glad,” said the mother, with a relieved sigh. “Emma
was disappointed, and I was afraid she would not be able to rally.
She is a dear girl.”
And Emma, with quivering lip, and face that was still pale, felt
she could hardly wait until Cora was asleep, for a chance to confess
to her mother about that first miserable half hour, and how the slow
tolling bell and the little white casket recalled her to her senses.

“Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things
of others.” —Philippians 2:4

Questions
1. As you read the first two paragraphs of the story, try to picture
being in the room with Cora and Emma. Describe what you see
happening in the room.
2. Emma was focusing on herself and how she was feeling because
she had to miss the meeting. How did her selfish thoughts affect
her?
3. Describe how Emma felt after hearing about the cause of death
of the little girl in the funeral.
4. Emma began to focus on her sister Cora. Describe how this
affected her actions.

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What Do You Think?
5. In this story we can see that Emma’s thoughts and focus affected
her actions. Describe a situation in which you may have focused
on what you were not happy about, and how you could have
changed that as Emma did.

Vocabulary
avenue they live away up Selwyn Avenue
caper who have had the measles caper about
casket some little child inside the white casket
cooped she must be cooped up at home
dampness Cora could not come because of the dampness
duet proposed that they practice their duet
flounced she flounced out of the room
funeral and wonder if there was a funeral coming
gloomed as she gloomed over it
grievances going over all her grievances
hearse there was the hearse
lungs it went to her lungs
measles who have had the measles caper about
misery about the first half hour of misery
nurse to nurse her wrath
officer the presiding officer
plumes with white plumes all around it
presiding the presiding officer
procession to wait for the procession to pass
quivering with quivering lip
rally afraid she would not be able to rally
relieved with a relieved sigh
sofa by the sofa
tolling and how the slow tolling bell

Page -83-
 Lesson XV
Broken

“Aren’t they just lovely!” As she said this, Estelle Brownson held
the quaint, dark-blue cream pitcher aloft, to show how transparent it
was.
“Oh, they are perfect for anything!” declared Frances Holmes,
her dear friend and companion, as she caressingly ran her fingers
around the rim of a dark blue plate, as she spoke. “I don’t believe
another girl in our set can bring such a charming array of old things
as you can. How came your grandmother to let you take them?”
“I’m sure I don’t know; I didn’t expect her to; she thinks so
much of them. Grandpa bought them, you know, when they first
commenced housekeeping sixty years ago. Just think, Frances,
of having been a housekeeper for sixty years! I didn’t expect to
be allowed to touch these dishes, but I was telling Mamma about
the plans for the old folks’ supper, and how we were going to
have all the nice old-fashioned things we could get for the table. I
was complaining that our things were so distressingly new when
Grandma said, ‘I suppose you would like the blue china tea set to
dress out your table with.’ I gave a little scream of delight, and said
I guess I would, better than anything else in the world; and when she
said I might take it, I gave her such a hugging as to almost take her
breath away. I wouldn’t have one of the pieces broken for anything.
I’m really afraid it would break Grandma’s heart. I’ve been nervous
all the morning while I was wiping them and getting them ready. I
shut Tiny up in the nursery for fear she would break something.”

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 But somebody had let Tiny out of the nursery; she came skipping
over the ground just at this moment, her heart full of some scheme
of importance. “Oh, Stella!” she said, as she came within hearing,
“Mamma says I may go to the supper, and that she will dress me up
in my white pantalets, and a long sleeved, high-necked white apron,
just as little girls used to dress ever so many years ago. Won’t I
look too funny?” And the happy little girl whirled on one foot, and

Page -85-
came up with a thud against her sister just as she was turning to set
the cream pitcher down. Down it went, not on the table, but on the
hard floor, and of course it fractured, into—I don’t know into how
many pieces. Poor little Tiny! How suddenly the happy light went
from her eyes, and her face grew pale. But Estelle did not see it;
all she saw was the cream pitcher in hopeless ruins. “You naughty,
careless, wicked girl!” she exclaimed, her voice hoarse with anger.
“You hit my arm on purpose; I know you did! You are a perfect little
nuisance! always in the way; the idea of your bumping up against
me in that manner! You ought to be whipped, and I’ll tell Mother
so; see if I don’t. Come into the house this minute!” And she seized
the arm of her frightened little sister, and dragged her up the steps,
and through the hall in frantic haste.
It was hours after that, in the cool of the afternoon, that Estelle
knocked softly at the door of Grandmother’s room, then slipped in
and sat down in a sorrowful little heap at her feet. “Oh, Grandma!”
she said, “have they told you? I’m so awfully sorry! I could cry for
a week if that would only mend it.”
“So am I, child,” said Grandma, knitting away quietly on her red
and white stocking. “I would cry too, if that would do any good; but
tears will not mend them. There were so many of them broken, that
it seems to make it worse.”
Then Estelle lifted her sorrowful face. “Oh, Grandma!” she
said, “there was only one broken; that was bad enough. Did you
think there were more?”
Grandma gravely shook her white old head. “You are mistaken,”
she said. “There was more than one, child; I was in the sitting room
at the time and heard the crash. Let me see, ‘Bear ye one another’s
burden.’ That was broken, I’m sure; poor little Tiny had to bear her
own heavy burden. Then, ‘Be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted,
forgiving one another;’ I’m afraid that was dreadfully broken. Oh,
there were a good many of them broken. I felt them rattling about

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my ears all the morning.”
Not another word said Estelle. For ten whole minutes she buried
her head in Grandmother’s apron; then Grandmother said softly,
“Take them to Him, child, and try again.”

“And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even

as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.” —Ephesians 4:32

Questions
1. Describe Estelle’s feelings for the dishes her grandmother was
allowing her to use and how she felt about her grandmother.
2. Explain why Estelle was so nervous about handling the dishes.
3. What caused Estelle to become so angry with Tiny when the
dish broke?
4. Describe how you think Estelle felt when she had to tell her
grandmother that the dish was broken.
5. What was more important to the grandmother than her dishes?
Why?

What Do You Think?

6. Estelle’s anger did nothing but work evil. Do you sometimes get
angry? Explain whether good or bad things happened when you
were angry. Did you break some of God’s commandments?

Vocabulary
array such a charming array
caressingly as she caressingly ran her fingers around
commenced when they first commenced housekeeping
distressingly our things were so distressingly new
fractured it fractured, into—I don’t know…many pieces
frantic through the hall in frantic haste
gravely Grandma gravely shook her white old head

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hoarse her voice hoarse with anger
housekeeping when they first commenced housekeeping
nuisance you are a perfect little nuisance
pantalets in my white pantalets
quaint the quaint, dark-blue cream pitcher
scheme her heart full of some scheme of importance
set the blue china tea set
thud came up with a thud
transparent to show how transparent
whipped ought to be whipped
whirled the happy little girl whirled on one foot

Page -88-
 Lesson XVI
Dreaming Susy

Some little friends, when they read the words “Dreaming Susy,”
will be sure to imagine, all in a minute, a pretty little girl—blue
eyes, dimples, and rosy cheeks—who has been playing all day, and,
very tired, has at last fallen asleep out in the hay field, or under the
apple tree.
But no, you are not quite right, for the little girl that I am going
to tell you about used to dream with her eyes wide open. All day
long, from sunrise to sunset, little Susy dreamed and dreamed, until
you hardly knew whether to say she was ever awake or not.
Perhaps you will understand me better if I give an account of
one of the days of Susy’s life.
In the morning would come a loud call— “Susy! Susy! It is
time to get up!” and Susy, rubbing her eyes, would answer, “Yes,
Mother,” and sit up in bed. Then she would think— “What a trouble
it is to put on my stockings and shoes and comb my hair. How nice
it would be”—and here Susy would begin to dream—“if I had a
little servant to come in and wait on me. She would wash me with
sweet-smelling soap, and curl my hair, and dress me in a blue silk
dress, and put a little thin handkerchief in my hand, and then, if I
felt lazy, I would say, ‘Jane, you may bring my breakfast upstairs
this morning—a little broiled chicken and some toast—and—let me
see—yes, some preserves and cake, and —’
“Susy, Susy!” her mother’s voice would break in, “breakfast is
all ready,” and Susy, with a great start, would find she had been

Page -89-
dreaming half an hour, and the end of it all would be that she would
either miss her breakfast altogether, or come down very ill-natured,
with her hair hastily twisted in a little knot, and make a meal of
cold cakes and potatoes, in such very different plight from what she
had imagined in that pleasant dream, that tears of vexation were
continually coming in her eyes.
Then after breakfast her brother would say, “Susy, do you know
your arithmetic lesson? It’s all fractions, and I’ve been up studying
for more than an hour.”
“Oh, Joe, please let me take the book,” cried Susy. “I don’t
know one word.” She then sat down in the doorway and opened at
the place. Oh, dear, how could she ever understand it? What a lot of

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figures—4/7 of 5/6 of 3½! How could she ever bring them into line,
and find out just what they were worth? Susy scowled and fretted,
and then, as she stared up into the big tree before the door, a vacant
look came in her eyes, and in a minute she was off dreaming.
“How nice it would be,” thought Susy, “if I lived in a palace, and
had ladies-in-waiting. Ones who would help me with arithmetic so
I didn’t need to weary myself with such figures! And as a princess I
could ride around the countryside handing out alms to the poor. Oh!
They would be so happy to see me coming and would love me so!”
“Susy, Susy,”—cried Joe, “you’re way off in the clouds. You’re
not studying at all.”
“I will in a minute,” cried Susy, emphatically, and then she
went on: “And as a princess I would throw many wonderful parties.
Many would be invited, including my arithmetic teacher who would
declare that I was her best student ever and belonged at the head of
the class! I would earn ‘Best Scholar’ ribbons in arithmetic with the
aid of my ladies-in-waiting and—”
Ding-dong, ding-dong! “Why, that can’t be the school bell,”
cried Susy, jumping up hastily. “It is, though,” said Joe. “And your
wits have been on a goose chase for almost three-quarters of an
hour. I took your arithmetic away ten minutes ago, and you never
knew it at all.”
Susy rose with flushed cheeks and tearful eyes, and held out her
hand for the book. All the way to school she studied, with the help
of her good-natured brother, but all in vain. The time was too short;
and at the close of her recitation, instead of hearing any praises,
she caught a very sad look upon the teacher’s face, and heard the
children’s distasteful laughter as she was sent to take her place at the
foot of the class.
But all these embarassments seemed to have very little effect
upon Susy. That very night, as she sat with a little piece of sewing
her mother had given her, the needle fell from her fingers, and her

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eyes again were fixed upon vacancy.
“What are you after now, Susy?” cried Joe.
“Well, I was thinking that if I had three pairs of hands, while
one pair did the hemming, another could sew on these strings, and
another could stitch down that seam, and we’d have it all done in no
time at all.”
“Well, I never!” exclaimed Joe. “Seems to me I’d learn to use
one pair of hands before I was fretting for more. Now I believe I’ll
dream a little too. Suppose people came into the world with the
ends of their arms all smooth, without any hands at all; and suppose
every time they were very good, or accomplished any great thing,
a finger would grow out. I guess they’d be pretty thankful if they
ever got ten of them. I wonder how many you’d have by this time!
I know you’d dream you had two or three hundred; but I shouldn’t
be a bit surprised if you hadn’t the first joint of one finger.”
Susy colored and bit her lips, but had not a word to say.
But more serious consequences than these resulted from Susy’s
habit of dreaming. She was very fond of taking long walks, and
as she lived only a mile from the seashore, she would often on a
Saturday walk there with her work; and, sitting on the rocks, dream
away hours at a time.
Now it happened one day that Susy had an examination
composition to write, and taking her pencil and paper with her, she
went down to the rocks, so, as she said, “that no one should interrupt
her.” She played for a while with the sand and shells, and then,
settling herself comfortably, she spread her paper upon her lap, and
began to—dream.
“How nice it would be,” began Susy in usual fashion, “if some
great big hand would take hold of my pencil, and, without my having
to think at all, would just guide it along over the paper, writing the
funniest and nicest things in the world; then how neatly I would
copy it off, and have it all off my mind. And when examination

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came, I should read it very slowly and distinctly, and when I finished,
Deacon Mason would pat me on the head, and say, ‘I didn’t know
Miss Susan had so much talent. I shouldn’t wonder if she’d write a
book someday.’ And then, if I was a famous author,” ran on Susy—
“what should I wear? I wish Father was rich; or how nice it would
be if I could wake in the morning and find by my bed a lovely pink
silk, and a wreath of white roses such as ladies at the Grand Hotel
wore this summer. How sweet I should look! I wouldn’t be a bit
proud, either.”
Thus ran on Susy’s dreamy thoughts, and she entirely forgot
how late it was growing, until suddenly the sea, which had been
slowly creeping nearer and nearer, sent a little dash of spray up
in her face. Susy started and looked quickly around. Oh! How
careless she had been! She had been dreaming, dreaming, until the
cold, cruel sea had come crawling all around the little rock where
she was sitting, and there seemed no way of escape. Poor Susy! She
was wide awake now, and she remembered that at high tide her rock
was perfectly covered. What should she do? She called wildly, and
looked out over the rough, gray water, and back on the dreary, gray
shore. There was no one in sight, and dropping down again, poor
Susy dreamed no more of silk dresses and rose wreaths, but sobbed
until she could cry no more.
But the sea came creeping up, surely, surely, and suddenly she
felt its cold touch through the toes of her stout leather boots, and
with a little, sharp cry, she drew them up, with her knees close under
her chin. Oh! How dreadful to wake up from such a lovely dream
to such a terrible reality! The water crept nearer. She could not
draw her feet up any further, and it rose over her little, round ankles.
Susy covered her face with her hands, and thought of home. She
knew just how pleasant the old kitchen was looking. She shouldn’t
wonder if Mother had made gingerbread, and was cooking apples for
tea, and the cat was washing herself by the fire. But oh, when they

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all sat down to tea, and laughed and told stories, she would be lying
upon the cold, gray sand, like that poor lady who was shipwrecked
a year ago—lying all cold and still, with seaweed in her hair.
“Yes, I must die,” thought Susy, “and I haven’t been good at all.
I’ve wasted all my time dreaming. Perhaps I should kneel and pray
and ask God to forgive me.” But the water came higher still, and
poor sobbing Susy concluded she would rather die standing up. Oh,
how cold it was, and how she trembled! She couldn’t stand much
longer, and—what then?
“Father! Mother! Joe!” screamed Susy frantically, covering her
eyes as she felt herself swaying dizzily forward.
“I declare if that isn’t our Susy,” cried Joe’s astonished voice,
and his boat swept rapidly around the corner of a rock.
“My little daughter!” cried Father; and Susy knew no more until
she found herself wrapped in a great coat, held safe in her father’s
arms.
“Well, what were you about this time?” cried Joe, with pretended
roughness, as he wound up his fishing line. “I suppose you were
dreaming you were a mermaid, and were going to sail off in an
oyster shell.”
You would have thought that this adventure would cure Susy
of dreaming, and that she would set diligently to work, knowing
that the best kind of helpers to do sums and write compositions are
Patience and Industry, and that they were always ready to come if
any girl or boy really wants them.
But Susy had indulged in this sad habit so long, that the very
next Sunday, as she sat in church, thinking of her narrow escape, she
said to herself—
“God was very good to me, and I ought to be a Christian. I really
ought to ask Him to help me and come into my heart and live for
Him, but . . . How nice it would be if I were just really good like
an angel, and wherever I went everyone would love me, and say,

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‘What a sweet expression Miss Susan has!’ and at last, when I died, I
should go straight to heaven.” So she never heard what the preacher
said—“I love them that love me, and those that seek me early shall
find me.” “My son, give me thine heart, and let thine eyes observe
my ways.” She only dreamed that some time she would be very
good; and as, on the way home, she spoke very sharply to Joe for
daring to interrupt her thoughts, I am quite sure that she did not ask
the Lord Jesus into her heart.
Little children, are any of you dreaming like Susy?

“For in the multitude of dreams and many words there are also divers
vanities: but fear thou God.” —Ecclesiastes 5:7

Questions
1. Define the word “dreaming” the way it is described in the story.
2. Do you think Susy was lazy? Explain why or why not.
3. Do you think the things Susy dreamed about could actually
happen in real life? Explain your answer.
4. Why do you think Susy did not change even when she suffered
from many embarrassments?
5. When the story tells of Susy’s encounter with the sea, the story
has a sentence which says “How dreadful to wake up from such
a lovely dream to such a terrible reality!” Thinking of this as
a picture and the ocean representing reality, how does reality
affect Susy?

What Do You Think?

6. As you think about Susy and her experiences with daydreaming,
do you think that just thinking about being a good boy or girl
will help you to be good? What more do you need to do?
7. Are you “dreaming” about being a Christian, or are you really
being one? How can you tell?

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Vocabulary
alms handing out alms to the poor
composition had an examination composition
distasteful heard the children’s distasteful laughter
divers[e] there are also divers vanities
examination had an examination composition
expression what a sweet expression Miss Susan has
fretted Susy scowled and fretted
gingerbread Mother had made gingerbread
hastily jumping up hastily
hemming while one pair did the hemming
joint if you hadn’t the first joint of one finger
ladies-in-waiting with the aid of my ladies-in-waiting
mermaid you were dreaming you were a mermaid
oyster were going to sail off in an oyster shell
palace if I lived in a palace
plight in such very different plight
preserves some preserves and cake
reality from such a lovely dream to such a terrible
reality
settling settling herself comfortably
stout the toes of her stout leather boots
vacant a vacant look came in her eyes
vanities there are also divers vanities
vexation that tears of vexation
wits your wits have been on a goose chase

Page -96-
 Lesson XVII
Buying the Truth

“What are you doing, Bob?” cried a cheery voice one pleasant
Saturday afternoon; and down the neat gravel walk tripped a sunny-
faced little girl of about six years of age. Brother Bob lay under
the great elm tree at the foot of the garden with a small book open
before him, and a very puzzled look on his usually happy face.
“Don’t trouble me, Katie,” said he, rather shortly. “I’ve such a
long lesson to learn for tomorrow.”
“Oh, Bob,” said she, coaxingly, “let’s learn it together.”
“Why, you little simpleton!” cried Bob, laughing with such a
funny face that Katie, although somewhat grieved, was obliged to
laugh too. For when Bob had a merry thought, it was not content
to stretch his rather large mouth, but ran all over his face, twinkled
in his eyes, jerked up the corner of his eyebrows, and finally played
hide and seek in two or three curious little holes which Mamma
called dimples.
“Now, Bob,” said she, rather reproachfully, when he was through
laughing “all over,” “now, Bob, what did I do?”
“Why, pet,” said Bob, “you haven’t known how to read for very
long, and don’t know how to spell all the hard words; you wouldn’t
be any help at all.”
“But, perhaps,” persisted Katie, “if you’d read the lesson, I could
explain some of it, for Mother and I have such long talks together
while you are away at school.”
Bob laughed again, and said, “Just to think of you explaining

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 anything to me, when I
am four years older, and
a boy besides!”
Katie turned away
with eyes like violets
after a shower.
“Well, well, come
back, little sister,” cried
Bob, half sorry that he had
grieved her. “Come back;
I should like to ask your
opinion on something.”
Katie paused, with a
doubtful face.
“What does this
mean?” said he—“Buy the truth, and sell it not”?
“Why,” said Katie, twisting her small fingers nervously, “what
do you think, Brother Bob?”
“I don’t think,” said Bob; “that’s just the trouble. I suppose I
know what truth is, but I didn’t know anybody kept it to sell, and
I don’t know how much I’d pay for it. If I could find it, I’d buy a
great deal, and wouldn’t sell it very soon, either; for Mr. West told
me last Sunday that a boy couldn’t have too much of it.” Then Bob
laughed, forgetting his own perplexity in watching his little sister’s
anxious face.
“Bob,” said Katie at length, “I believe you are half making fun
of me. Nobody keeps truth to sell just as Mrs. Mills does oranges
and candy; but I think it is something God keeps, and when we ask
Him for it, we don’t pay for it with money, but, but—”
“But—but—” repeated teasing Bob.
“But,” continued Katie, laughing away her momentary vexation,
“we will go and ask Mother.”

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 Mrs. Lane was just starting for a walk to visit some poor
neighbors, who lived more than a mile away, and when she heard the
eager questions of her children, she permitted them to accompany
her across the fields, that they might talk the whole matter over
together.
“Katie is right,” said Mamma, after listening to the little girl’s
statement of the case. “We must go to God for the truth.”
“Do you mean,” asked Bob, “that we must ask God to help us to
speak the truth?”
“Yes, that is part of it; but there is a wider meaning,” said his
mother. “When we ask God for truth—when we pray, ‘Lead us in
Thy truth’—we pray that God would make us followers of Him,
would make us pure and holy like Himself, for He is perfect truth.”
“Then, Mother, if He gives us all this when we ask Him, how can
we pay Him?”
“My dear Bob, you could never pay Him for all He has done for
you. The greatest angel in heaven could not pay God; but He offers
the greatest blessings ‘without money and without price.’ ”
“How can we buy truth, then?” said Bob, with a dissatisfied air.
“Ah,” said his mother, “I see your trouble now. The meaning of
that little verse is only that we must be willing to give up everything
for the truth—be willing to give up all earthly happiness, if God is
only our Friend. This would be no pay, after all; but we should be
willing to make any sacrifice to show our gratitude to God.”
“What must we give him?” asked Katie, earnestly. “What could
I give Him?”
“A great deal,” said her mother. “You can say, ‘Here, Father,
take my hands. They are small now, but they are ready for any work
Thou hast for them to do. I give thee my feet. They shall never
grow tired in Thy service. I give Thee my tongue. Oh! Let it never
say anything to displease Thee. Open Thou my lips, and my mouth
shall show forth Thy praise. And, above all, I give Thee my heart.

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Fill it with Thyself, fill it with Thy truth.’ ”
“Why, Mother, you will give me most all away,” cried Katie.
“That’s a great deal to give,” said Bob.
“No, very little,” replied Mrs. Lane. “Hundreds of people have
given up friends, money, their native land, and even their lives. They
thought nothing too precious to be given for the truth.”
“Tell us about those people,” said Bob.
“But a short time ago,” continued his mother, “in some countries,
Christians were so cruelly persecuted, that they were not sure of their
lives from one day to another. They could not stay in their pleasant
homes as we do, but were forced to wander among the mountains,
and live in dreary caves. Many perished from hunger and cold;
but that was better than dying by the hands of their cruel enemies.
Sometimes, on the Sabbath day, they would meet very secretly in
the depth of some forest, and try to have a little service together. But
often, while they were in the midst of singing and praying, an alarm
would be given that the soldiers were coming, and the little band
would hastily break up and run to hide themselves. And often the
attack was so sudden that many of the weak, frightened people could
not run fast enough; and the rough soldiers would come thundering
along on their strong horses, and after catching the poor hunted
creatures, would carry them back into the city.”
“What happened to them then?” said Bob, with reddening
cheeks.
“Oh, they were taken before a cruel company of men, and asked
if they would give up their religion; that is, if they would sell the
truth. Then, if they nobly and bravely refused, they were taken into
a room of torture, and made to suffer most terrible agony.”
“What was done to them?” asked Bob, shuddering.
“Sometimes their thumbs were put into a screw that pinched them
tighter and tighter, until they were completely crushed. Sometimes
their bare feet were roasted upon a fire; and a great many other

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savage things were done, which I will not tell you now,” said Mrs.
Lane, as she saw Katie quietly crying to herself.
“Well, didn’t any of them ever give up?” asked Bob.
“Yes,” said his mother, “sometimes the agony was too great,
especially for the young and tender ones. But they were very few in
number, compared with those who were ‘faithful unto death.’ Some
children, not a great deal older than you, boldly confessed that they
had ‘bought the truth,’ and no torture could make them sell it. One
little word could have saved them from being burned alive, but they
would not say it. So their bodies were surrounded with wood, the
cruel flames rose around, and the little martyrs were wrapped in
fire.”
“Oh, Mother! didn’t they cry out then?” exclaimed little Katie,
vividly remembering the pain of a recently-burned finger.
“Why, I have heard,” replied her mother, “that many of them
were so happy that they did not seem to feel the pain of the body,
but sang the most triumphant songs, as if the wreaths of fire were
only crowns of glory. They sang, ‘Yea, though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with
me.’ And though it was a fearful path, they knew it led to heaven.
It was only a little while to suffer, and their enemies could not hurt
their souls. Oh, what a glorious moment it must have been when
the soul at last struggled from the poor blackened body, and, soaring
above all the taunts and torments of its persecutors, exchanged the
sufferings of earth for the sweet peace of heaven! One moment
withering in the cruel fire, the next, reposing in the green pastures,
and beside the still waters of God’s love. Ah, how happy they must
have been when they stood before the great God, saying, ‘I have
kept the truth!’ ”
They had now reached the home of poor sick Mrs. Brown, and
Bob and Katie waited at the door until their mother came out again.
When they were once more on the way home, Bob said, “Mother, I

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mean to buy the truth.”
“I am very glad,” she replied; “and are you willing to give up
everything to God?”
“People are not burned now, are they?”
“No, but still it is not an easy thing to keep the truth. There are
so many little temptations every day and every hour, that you will
need as much firmness and courage as to bear one great trial. You
must struggle constantly.”
“Well, I think I can do it,” said Bob, with a great deal of self-
confidence. “If I had been one of those children, I should never have
given up, I know.”
His mother looked a little sad, and said, “I would rather see my
little son more humble. I remember when his fingers were accidently
pinched in the door, there was a great outcry. If he could not bear
pain more patiently than that, I’m afraid he would make a rather
poor martyr.”
Bob blushed, and said less pretentiously, “I’m afraid I couldn’t
be a martyr, after all. If my thumb was pinched much harder, I’m
afraid I should say anything just to get it out.”
“I hope my son will never be put to any such trial; but if he is,
he must ask God to give him strength to speak the truth. There is
nothing so mean and despicable as to tell a lie. It is so cowardly to
sell the truth for a little transient ease and self-indulgence. Whatever
may be the present relief, misery is sure to follow.”
Bob looked uneasy, and said, half trying to change the subject,
“You ought to hear Jim Price talk, Mother. He tells stories all the
time; and some of the other boys are so bad, you never know when
to believe them.”
“Then my son should be noble and brave enough to set them
a better example; and he can always ask help of God, Who is the
great, eternal Truth. Your friends may deceive you; they may seem
to love you one day, and be very unkind to you the next; but God

Page -102-
is always the same, yesterday, today, and forever, without even the
shadow of turning. Think of what it must be to have such a Friend,
to be always sure of finding Him the same—the one true God.”
Bob felt much softened as he reached home in the quiet summer
twilight; and taking Katie aside, he proposed that they should both
go to God that night, and, giving themselves to Him, should ask Him
for His truth.
“But what if I should sell it?” said timid Katie.
“Oh, we must ask God to help us, as Mother said; and then,
Katie, I’ll keep an eye on you,” said Bob, with that dangerous self-
confidence creeping back into his heart.
“Well,” said humble little Katie, “then I’ll try.”
God will help both of these children when they ask Him; but I
think Bob, particularly, will have great need to constantly “watch
and pray.”

“Buy the truth, and sell it not; also wisdom, and instruction, and
understanding.” —Proverbs 23:23

Questions
1. Describe the picture of Bob that you see in your mind. Describe
what Bob looks like, especially his face.
2. What does it mean to buy the Truth?
3. According to the story, how much is the Truth worth to those
who suffered for it?
4. Describe what some people gave to buy the Truth.
5. From Bob’s first point of view when his mother described how he
should give all of himself to Christ, how did he feel about it?
6. Bob was given a new viewpoint by his mother as the result of
her describing what previous generations of Christians went
through to not give up the Truth. How did he feel from his new
point of view?

Page -103-
What Do You Think?
7. What can we learn and apply to our own lives from Bob’s two
different viewpoints?

Vocabulary
despicable there is nothing so mean and despicable
dissatisfied said Bob, with a dissatisfied air
forced but were forced to wander
momentary laughing away her momentary vexation
outcry there was a great outcry
perplexity forgetting his own perplexity
pretentiously said less pretentiously
proposed he proposed that they should both go
reposing reposing in the green pastures
reproachfully said she, rather reproachfully
savage many other savage things were done
self-confidence with a great deal of self-confidence
shadow without even the shadow of turning
simpleton why, you little simpleton
subject to change the subject
taunts soaring above all the taunts and torments
timid said timid Katie
torments soaring above all the taunts and torments
transient for a little transient ease and self-indulgence
vividly vividly remembering the pain

Page -104-
 Lesson XVIII
Sowing

Be careful what you sow, my boy,

For seed that’s sown will grow,
And what you scatter, day by day,
Brings payback—joy or woe.
For sowing and growing,
Then reaping and mowing,
Are the surest things that’s known,
And sighing and crying,
Lamentation undying,
Will never change seed that’s sown.

Be watchful of your words, my boy,

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

Discern your comrades true, my boy,

Nor walk and mate with vice;

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 “The boy is father to the man”—
Then fly when sins entice!
The seed one is sowing
Through time will be growing,
And each one must garner his own;
In joy or sorrow,
Today or tomorrow,
You’ll reap what your right hand has sown!
Mary M. Andersen
Page -106-
“Even as I have seen, they that plow iniquity, and sow wickedness, reap
the same.” —Job 4:8

“Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy; break up your fallow

ground: for it is time to seek the LORD, till he come and rain righteousness
upon you.” —Hosea 10:12

Questions—What Do You Think?

1. Think about reaping and sowing and how we will always be
sowing something. What we do will always have consequences.
Describe how that makes you feel.
2. Consider your life now, and think about when you will be twenty
years older. If you do not want to be sowing sorrow, what should
you be doing every day?
3. Do you think if we sow bad actions, we will escape the bad
consequences of our actions? Explain why.

Vocabulary
comrades discern your comrades true
discern discern your comrades true
discloses the thorn tree discloses
entice then fly when sins entice
fallow break up your fallow ground
fly then fly when sins entice
garner each one must garner his own
index its thorns as an index of woe
iniquity they that plow iniquity
lamentation lamentation undying
mate nor walk and mate with vice
payback brings payback
vice nor walk and mate with vice
vigil or long vigil keeping
woe its thorns as an index of woe
Page -107-
 Lesson XIX
Courage and Cowardice

A merry group of boys played in the sun by the quay wall one
Saturday afternoon, filling the air with merry shouts and laughter
that seemed to make even an old man like me young again as I
heard. I took my seat on a grey stone bench by the waterside, and
sat watching, now the happy boys, and now the deep tide that flowed
fast to sea below my feet. Here in sunshine, there in shadow, the
constant water flowed—here slipping smoothly by the seawall, there
fretting against the prow of barge or ship it ran; and as I watched it,
I thought of my own past life, with its lights and glooms, joys and
frets, slipping on fast to the eternity beyond; and, looking out beyond
the harbor’s mouth, I could see the great ocean lie in sunlight, and
prayed that my eternity might be bright as that.
Perhaps I looked a quaint old body as I sat musing, and this may
have provoked the boys to play me a trick. One of them passing me
knocked my hat off with a stick. It would have gone into the water,
as no doubt he had intended, had not one of the other boys caught it.
The others laughed, and the mischief-doer muttered something about
“an accident,” while my young friend handed it to me politely.
“What a lad he is!” I could hear my disturber say as he ran off;
but the lad did not look disturbed by the backhanded compliment.
I was roused again presently from my musings by a shout from
the boys.
“It’s over!” And looking round, I saw my friend, standing
hatless.

Page -108-
 “Brice threw your cap
over on purpose.”
“Fight him, Wilson.”
“Yes, give it him,
Wilson. We’ll see fair
play,” said the boys
eagerly. Brice squared,
and stood ready in due
fighting position.
“I will not fight,” said
my friend Wilson. “I am
sorry you threw the cap
over, Brice, for it was all
but new, and I don’t see
the fun in mischief of that
sort. No—I am not going to fight you.”
“Come on, if you dare,” said Brice, with an irritating look and
gesture; and all the boys gathered round Wilson, and urged him to
“go on,” and “give it to him.”
“I don’t like fighting, and I will not fight,” said the boy.
A moment before the boys had been ready to make a hero of
Wilson; but now their mood changed, so fickle a thing is popular
applause, and two or three cried, “Coward!” “He daren’t!”
“I am no coward; and I dare do anything that is right,” he said,
while his crimsoning face showed how he felt the taunt.
“Coward! Never mind him, Brice: he’s nothing but a milksop.
He’ll come here in a new cap tomorrow, and let you kick it round the
quay for an appetite, if you’re inclined,” said one.
“It is not cowardly to be afraid to do wrong. I won’t fight for
the sake of a cap.” And Wilson, as he spoke, perhaps thought of
something his minister might have said. “We have a great Example
to follow, you know,” he added, “and it’s our duty to follow it. No—

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I am not going to name that Great Name for you to laugh at, Brice.
I must do what I think right; and if you all call me coward, I cannot
help it.”
A chorus of laughter greeted Wilson’s speech, in which Brice’s
voice was loudest.
“Go home; we don’t want a coward’s company.”
“Go home, coward!” And Wilson turned away.
He had not gone twenty yards when he turned, as did I, at the
sound of a heavy splash.
“He’s in!”
“He’ll drown!—he can’t swim!”
“Brice is drowning!” cried the boys at the edge. Some ran for
help, while others began to throw their coats off, as if to jump after,
but when they looked at the deep water running ten feet below, fast
as a mill stream, they lost courage, and none would venture. There
was any amount of noise and shouting; and one threw a rope over
that fell far short of the drifting boy.
“I’ll try,” said a voice near me; and Wilson threw his jacket on
the ground, ran a stone’s throw along the sea wall, and plunged in
gallantly, head foremost.
“He’ll save him!”
“He won’t—he’s not much of a swimmer.”
“They’ll both go!”
Wilson had outrun the tide before he sprang over, and the next
instant he had stopped Brice, catching him by his hair.
“Run, and throw him the rope!” I said, and was obeyed; but the
rope fell short and they drifted on.
“The coal barge! Strike out for it, Wilson,” shouted many
voices.
“He sees it! He’s doing it!”
“Let him go, Wilson! Save yourself!”
But Wilson was not the boy to let go. He had now caught Brice’s

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jacket, and was striking out with all his remaining strength for the
barge. Would he reach it? Would the boat put off from the ship
reach him in time? Slowly and painfully he swam partly across the
tide. I shut my eyes—I could not watch him. I held my breath to
hear the word of life or death.
“They’re safe!” I heard at last, and looking up I saw Wilson
holding on with one hand to the stern of the coal barge, and keeping
up Brice’s head with the other. The next moment the boat reached
them.
“Boys!” I said, when Wilson had walked quietly home—for he
went quickly, more to shun our praise, I am sure, than to change his
dripping clothes—“Boys! try and don’t mistake a hero for a coward
next time. Believe an old man when he tells you the truth, that he
who fears his Maker fears no man—no danger—not death itself!”

“And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul:
but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.”
—Matthew 10:28

Questions
1. Describe what the old man was thinking about as he looked out
across the water.
2. Why do you think the boys knocked the old man’s hat off? Do
you think it was nice of them to do that? Why?
3. What do you think Wilson was thinking that caused him to pick
up the old man’s hat and give it back to him?

What Do You Think?

4. Explain why it might have been easier for Wilson to fight Brice
and give in to peer pressure than it would have been to do right
as he did.
5. Why do you think Wilson jumped in to save Brice? What

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 indication earlier in the story gave us a clue that Wilson would
be the boy to try to rescue Brice?
6. When you are pressured to do something the crowd is doing and
it is wrong, what is your reaction? Are you a Wilson, a Brice or
one who stands by and goes along with the crowd?

Vocabulary
applause so fickle a thing is popular applause
backhanded disturbed by the backhanded compliment
barge to the stern of the coal barge
compliment disturbed by the backhanded compliment
fickle so fickle a thing is popular applause
foremost plunged in gallantly, head foremost
gallantly plunged in gallantly, head foremost
gesture with an irritating look and gesture
harbor’s looking out beyond the harbor’s mouth
inclined if you’re inclined
irritating with an irritating look and gesture
musing as I sat musing
plunged plunged in gallantly, head foremost
provoked and this may have provoked the boys
prow there fretting against the prow of barge
quay you kick it round the quay
shun more to shun our praise
stern to the stern of the coal barge

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 Lesson XX
Mary Jones and Her Bible

Mary Jones was born in the year 1784, in a beautiful little Welsh
village called Llanfihangel-y-Pennant, overshadowed by mountains,
wild and lonely, and in sight of the broad waters of Cardigan Bay.
Her father was a weaver by trade, working the hand loom in his own
home, and making periodic visits to the nearest towns to sell the cloth
he had woven. Her mother was a simple but noble country woman,
and Mary was blest that both her parents loved and served the Lord
Jesus. From the earliest years she had been told the sweet old stories
of the Gospels, and the stirring incidents of the Old Testament, until
her imaginative mind peopled the countryside in which she dwelt
with the figures of sacred history.
But in Mary’s home there was no Bible! A little meetinghouse on
the hillside was the place where her father and mother worshipped,
and there the precious Word of God was read and expounded to
attentive ears and hearts. But Mary could not go there. She was
still too young, and no one dreamt of the hunger in the child’s heart
for God’s Holy Book. “Mother,” Mary asked one day when she was
about eight years old, “Father is sick, and cannot go to the meeting.
May I go and carry the lantern for you?” Receiving permission, she
joyfully lighted the old-fashioned lantern, and set out to guide her
mother along the rough way to the meetinghouse. Night after night
she continued to do this, even on the moonlit ones, so anxious was
she to attend where the Word of God was read. Her mother quoted
Psalm 119:105 one evening as they proceeded on their way: “Thy

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 Word is a lamp unto my feet
and a light unto my path.”
“Yes, Mother, I know that
text. How I wish I knew
ever so many more like
that.”
“How glad your father
and I would be to teach
you, dear, but it is years
since we learned any.”
“Why have we not a Bible
of our own?” queried Mary
eagerly. “Because they
are scarce and dear,” replied
her mother sadly. “Your
father is a good tradesman,
Mary, but still we can only
get sufficient money for the
necessities of life, and much
as we would like it, we cannot buy a Bible.”
Time passed on. Mary was busy with her home duties—feeding the
hens, gathering the eggs, taking care of the bees, sweeping, scrubbing,
and dusting. Wholly uneducated, for she had never attended school—
yet she was intelligent and thoughtful beyond her years.
One day her father, returning as usual from marketing his
cloth, brought the good news that a school was to be opened in a
neighboring village, and asked Mary if she would like to attend.
“Oh, Father, may I?” she cried. “I’ll learn to read, and then I shall
someday read the Bible!”
“You forget we have no Bible,” said her mother.
As soon as the school opened, Mary was enrolled, and walked
daily the two miles back and forth without a grumble. The teacher

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noticed her studious ways, and encouraged her in every possible
way. So rapid was her progress that in two years’ time she was able
to read really well. Then a Sunday school was formed, and there
Mary’s desire for the Word of God was deepened and strengthened.
Approaching a lady of her acquaintance one day, she asked
humbly, “Please, ma’am, may I speak to you a moment?”
“Surely, my child. What do you wish to say?” the lady answered
kindly.
“Two years ago, please, ma’am, you were so kind as to promise
that when I learned to read, I should come to your home and read
your Bible.”
“I did. I remember quite well,” answered the lady. “Well, child,
do you know how to read?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Mary, “and now I have joined the Sunday
school, and I have lessons to prepare. If I may come to you once a
week, I shall never thank you enough.”
“No need for thanks, little woman. May the Lord make His
Word a great blessing to you. Come, and welcome.”
Into the family of this kind and good woman Mary was received
with all care and kindness, and when admitted to the parlor, where the
Bible lay on a table in the center of the room, covered reverently with
a clean white cloth, her delight knew no bounds. Presently the child
raised the napkin, and opening the Book at random read, “Search the
scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they
which testify of me.” “I will! I will,” she cried, feeling as if a voice
had spoken to her. “Oh, if only I had a Bible of my own.”
When Mary had finished her Sunday school lesson and was
returning home, the great resolution was formed. “I must have a
Bible of my own,” she cried. “I must have one, if I save for it for
ten years!” But saving was of necessity slow. Mary had no way
of getting money but by earning it, and she was only a child of ten
years. Still, where there is a will there is a way, and Mary began to

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do lots of little odd turns for her neighbors. Sometimes she tended
a baby when its mother was busy at the washtub, or gathered sticks
and brushwood for fuel. A kind friend also gave her a couple of
hens for her very own, and by selling the eggs she was able to add
to her little store. One day she found a purse heavy with money, and
meeting the farmer who had lost it and was anxiously looking for it,
she received a bright silver sixpence as reward. Running home, she
dropped it into the box beside its meaner companions, and there it
lay for many a long year. But at last the joyful day came when Mary
cried, “Oh, Father! Oh, Mother! Only think! Mrs. Evans has paid
me for my work more than I expected, and now I find I have enough
to buy a Bible.”
Her father stopped his loom, and held out both hands. “Is it
really so, Mary? After six years’ saving? May the Lord be thanked
Who has given you the patience to work and wait to get the thing
you wanted. Bless you, my little maid!”
“Tell me, dear Father, where am I to buy the Bible? There are
none in Abergynolwyn.”
“I cannot tell you, Mary, but you would do well to ask the
preacher.” Mary accordingly went the next day to inquire, and
found that she could not get a copy of the Welsh Bible nearer than
Bala, twenty-five miles away.
Yet the long distance, the unknown road, the far famed but to her
strange minister, although frightening her, did not for a moment turn
her from her purpose. Even her parents consented, believing that the
Lord was leading their child and would protect her. So borrowing
a wallet from a neighbor in which to carry her treasure, she set off
at daylight on a spring morning in 1800. Her one pair of shoes, too
precious to be worn on a twenty-five-mile journey, she placed in
the wallet, and walked barefoot. She set out at a good pace; not too
quick, for that would have tired her ere half her journey was ended,
but steadily and lightly, her head erect, her clear eyes shining, and

Page -116-
a healthy flush on her rounded cheek. About midday she rested, ate
some food, washed her face and hands and feet in a clear, rippling
stream, and then proceeded on her way. The shades of night were
falling ere she reached Bala, and following the instructions of the
local preacher, she went to the house of Mr. Edwards.
At an early hour Mr. Edwards called her, and with a beating
heart she accompanied him to Mr. Charles. After a few words of
explanation, Mary was invited into the study. “Now my child,” said
Mr. Charles, “don’t be afraid. Tell me all about yourself, where you
live, what your name is, and what you want.”
Thus encouraged, Mary told all about herself and her parents,
of the long years of saving for the purchase of a Bible, and how she
had come to Bala, when the sum was complete. As she told him all
the story, and he realized some of her bravery and patience through
all these years of waiting, his usually bright face clouded over, and
turning to David Edwards, he said, “I am indeed grieved that this
dear girl should have come all the way from Llanfihangel to buy a
Bible, and that I should be unable to supply her with one. The Welsh
Bibles I received from London last year were all sold out months
ago, except a few copies which I have kept for friends whom I must
not disappoint.”
Mary had been looking into Mr. Charles’ face with her great
dark eyes full of hope, but as she understood what he had said to
David Edwards, she dropped into the nearest chair, covered her face
with her hands, and sobbed as few young people ever sob. It was
all over, she thought, all in vain—the years of praying, and saving,
and waiting; the long walk, the weariness and pain, all were of no
use. Mr. Charles was greatly touched at the sight of her grief, and
with his own voice unsteady, he laid his hand on her head, and said,
“My dear child, I see you must have a Bible, difficult as it is for me
to spare you one. It is impossible, quite impossible, for me to refuse
you.”

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 Mary looked up with such a rainbow face of smiles and tears,
such a look of joy and gratitude, that tears rushed to the eyes of
both Mr. Charles and David Edwards. Mr. Charles now turned to a
bookcase; took from it a Bible, and handing it to Mary, said, “I am
truly glad to be able to give it to you. Read it, study it, treasure up
its sacred words, and act upon its teaching.”
Mary, overcome with joy and thankfulness, began to sob once
more, but now with sweet and happy tears. Mr. Charles turned to his
old friend, and said, “Is it not a sight to touch the hardest heart, a girl
so young, so poor, to walk from Llanfihagel to Bala, fifty miles here
and back, to buy a Bible? From this day I can never rest until I can
find out some means of supplying the pressing need of my country
that cries out for the Bible.”
In the winter of 1802 Mr. Charles visited London, full of this
one great thought and purpose, although not as yet seeing how it was
to be accomplished. Consulting with friends of the committee of the
Religious Tract Society, he was introduced at the next meeting, and
made an earnest appeal, telling the touching story of the little Welsh
girl. In the hearts of the hearers the greatest sympathy was aroused,
and after two years—in 1804—the British and Foreign Bible Society
was established. At its first meeting £700 was subscribed, and the
first resolution of the committee was to bring out an edition of the
Welsh Bible for the use of Sunday schools, and the first consignment
of these reached Bala in 1806. So in this short period, the great
work was accomplished, the direct result of the efforts of a brave
and clever girl to obtain a copy of the Word of God.
Mary’s Bible, now in the possession of the British and Foreign
Society, contains in her own handwriting this statement: “I bought
this in the sixteenth year of my age. Mary Jones, the true owner
of this Bible.” She lies buried in the little churchyard at Bryncrug,
and a stone is raised to her memory by those who loved to recall her
beautiful life, and the important, if humble, part she had taken in

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the founding of the great institution, the British and Foreign Bible
Society.

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly
pearls: Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all
that he had, and bought it.” —Matthew 13:45-46

Questions
1. In Mary’s early life, what did her parents do, and what desire did
that awaken in her?
2. What question loomed in Mary’s mind as she became older and
wanted to learn more about Jesus and His Word?
3. What do you think Mary’s thoughts were when her mother told
her that they could not afford a Bible?
4. What was Mary’s response when she heard there would be a
school opening where she might attend?
5. What do you think Mary’s thoughts were when her Mother said,
“You forget, dear, we have no Bible”?
6. Why do you think Mary worked so hard to learn to read, and how
did a woman’s promise in the story possibly affect her decision
to be studious?
7. Since the woman made the promise, and it was almost two years
before Mary was able to take advantage of it, do you think the
woman was still obligated to fulfill her promise?
8. One week after Mary’s Sunday school lesson was finished, what
goal did she set for herself?

What Do You Think?

9. What two character traits did Mary possess which helped her to
achieve her goal?
10. What goals are you setting in your life?

Page -119-
Vocabulary
aroused the greatest sympathy was aroused
consignment the first consignment of these reached Bala
edition to bring out an edition of the Welsh Bible
erect her head erect
expounded Word of God was read and expounded
founding in the founding of the great institution
institution in the founding of the great institution
loom working the hand loom in his own home
meaner beside its meaner companions
merchant is like unto a merchant man
peopled her imaginative mind peopled the countryside
periodic making periodic visits to the nearest towns
pressing of supplying the pressing need
progress so rapid was her progress
queried “Why have we not a Bible of our own?” queried
Mary eagerly.
random opening the Book at random read
rapid so rapid was her progress
resolution first resolution of the committee
sixpence a bright silver sixpence
stirring the stirring incidents of the Old Testament
studious the teacher noticed her studious ways
subscribed at its first meeting £700 was subscribed
supplying I can find out some means of supplying
tradesman your father is a good tradesman

Page -120-
 Lesson XXI
William Tyndale, the Translator

A lad was walking through the streets of Oxford in deep thought.

On and on he wandered, noting the persons he passed—here a priest,
a supposed man of great learning—and a strange smile overspread
the lad’s face at the sight, as he said to himself, “He would not like
it.” Next passed one of the college teachers, and again the boy said
the same thing. Now passed some of the townsfolk, and here the
comment was: “They would.” Two scholars passed, and once more,
shaking his head, he repeated: “They would not like it!”
He walked on to the open country. Here, beyond a wall on which
he leaned a while, he watched a boy about his own age plowing
the field, and the smell of the freshly turned earth was delicious.
The boy was some distance away, and our young hero’s eyes rested
on him compassionately. “Such as these,” he said to himself, “can
never read the precious truths for themselves. They can have only
what the priests choose to tell them. They are kept in the dark. But,
God helping me, this shall be changed.”
The young scholar turned away from the field and returned
to Magdalen Hall, his lips set in firm, determined lines. This lad
was William Tyndale, who did a service of inestimable value to his
country in translating the Scriptures into the English tongue. We
have no record of his birthday, or of the year in which he was born,
but it was about 1486. Foxe says of his birthplace that he was born
“about the borders of Whales.” Slymbridge is the supposed place.
His early years were spent in Gloucestershire, the very stronghold of

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the Church and her superstitions.
“As sure as God’s in Gloucester” was a proverb in those days,
because of its many abbeys and relics. But the shrewd, observant
young Tyndale, with his clear, logical mind, could not tolerate the
false doctrines, the ignorance, and the superstition, which he saw
around him.
A good Latin scholar, he early studied the Scriptures for himself.
It was plain to him that the priests and schoolmen knew they would
lose their power over the people if those Scriptures were in the
English tongue for all to read who could. Thus it was on this account
a very dangerous thing to read or expound the Word of God in any
way which disagreed with the priests.
And this is just what Tyndale had done ever since he entered
Magdalen Hall (about 1504, at age eighteen), that small hall
belonging to Magdalen College. There were quite a large number
of students to whom he read the Scriptures, and those Scriptures
were making them “wise unto salvation.” But the authorities had
gotten wind of this. Tyndale was in danger, and he knew it. This
very morning he had made up his mind about two things—first, that
he would go to Cambridge, where the scholar Erasmus was at that
time; second, that the Scriptures must be translated into English,
come what may.
Well, he went to Cambridge, ever increasing his knowledge of
languages, and he furthered his knowledge of God’s Word—a study
to which “he was early addicted.” On leaving Cambridge he became
chaplain to Sir John Walsh, of the Manor House, Little Sodbury.
Here he met many men in high positions in the church, against
whom he was often compelled to take up the Sword of the Spirit,
which is the Word of God. They hated his clean thrusts and shrewd
arguments, and he was at last summoned before the chancellor and
abusively berated.
Later on, when a learned man said to him, “We were better to

Page -122-
be without God’s laws than the Pope’s,” Tyndale replied: “I defy the
Pope and all his laws. If God spare my life, ere many years I will
cause a boy that driveth the plow to know more of the Scriptures
than thou doest.”
The secret was out now! Tyndale’s intention of translating the
Scriptures into English spread abroad quickly. Lest he should make
things unpleasant for Sir John, he left him. First he went to London,
where he expected to find in Bishop Tunstal a sympathetic friend and
helper. Far from it. He was coldly dismissed. In the goodness of God
he was helped by a rich city merchant, Humphrey Monmouth, staying
with him for a while; then, since he could not gain the necessary
“approbation and permission” for translating and printing an English

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Bible, he sailed for Hambourg in 1524, never to return.
The translating seems to have been done in Whittenberg, money
being sent by Humphrey Monmouth and others; and then he took
the work to Cologne for printing. Every care was taken to keep
the secret, but it was found out through the drunkenness of some
of the printers. King Henry VIII was told, and Cardinal Wolsey.
Tyndale fled with the precious manuscript up the Rhine to Worms,
a dangerous voyage in those days. At Worms it was not so difficult
to continue the printing, and, since God is able to make all things
work together for good to them that love Him, Tyndale found he
could issue double the number of Testaments that he intended at
first. Friendly merchants were ready to ship them off to England.
Many a time Bristol had a quiet ship at the quay, with bales of
innocent looking merchandise containing hidden Testaments. King
and Cardinal were unable to stem the tide. All over England people
were reading those “wonderful words of life” for themselves, or
having them read to them. We can imagine how gladly the owner of
a precious Testament would share it with his friends and neighbors,
dangerous though it was to possess such a book or to read it.
Bishop Tunstal himself bought a great many copies through
George Packington, a merchant. This George Packington was a
friend of Tyndale’s. He told Tyndale the Bishop would buy up all the
books and Testaments he had for ready money. “Oh, that is that he
may burn them,” said Tyndale. Packington said it was. “Well, two
good things shall come thence. I shall get money to bring myself
out of debt for my printing, and the whole world will cry out against
the burning of God’s Word,” replied the translator.
The Bishop had the books, but the Testaments available were
mostly copies that were not very fit for use. The good ones were
already in England. The great burning took place on May of 1530 at
Paul’s Cross, London, and the people were so angry that the bishops
excused the burning by saying that they intended to make a better

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translation. But far from doing so, they issued a declaration later
that it was not necessary to set forth the Scriptures in the common
tongue, which made the people all the more eager to read Tyndale’s
Testament, “by reason of which many things came to the light.”
Meanwhile Tyndale, after revising his New Testament, reprinted
it with what remained of the Bishop’s money after Tyndale’s own
debts were paid, and willing hands conveyed the books to England
once more. By January of 1530, he had translated the Pentateuch
and printed it at Margurg.
There were several attempts to get Tyndale to return to England,
but he would not. His last revision of the New Testament was
printed in 1535. He was living at this time with Thomas Poynty,
an English merchant adventurer, where he had all the comforts of a
home. After a time a man from England, Henry Phillips by name,
made friends with Tyndale. He was a spy, and during the absence

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of Poynty, who suspected him, he tricked Tyndale into leaving the
house, down the long narrow entry into the street, putting Tyndale
before him. Phillips being very tall, and Tyndale of no great height,
he was able to signal over Tyndale’s head to the two officers at the
end of the entry. These men seized Tyndale, and he was taken at
once to the castle of Vilvorde, a state prison of the Low countries.
This happened May 24, 1535, and for sixteen months he remained
a prisoner; then he was tried and convicted of heresy, and on October
6, 1536, he was led to the stake, strangled, and his dead body burnt.
But during his life of only fifty years he did a work which has been
blessed to millions of souls, and which will be blessed for ever.

“Princes have persecuted me without a cause: but my heart standeth in

awe of thy word. I rejoice at thy word, as one that findeth great spoil.”
—Psalm 119:161-162

Questions
1. What country was home to William Tyndale?
2. In what language was the Bible primarily available at this time
in England?
3. What was William Tyndale thinking about as he walked along
the street in the beginning of the story?
4. Why did the people have to depend upon the priests to tell them
what the Bible said?
5. Why do you think the priests and kings wanted to kill William
Tyndale?
6. What price did William Tyndale have to pay for translating the
Bible?

What Do You Think?

7. WilliamTyndale said that the young boy plowing the field would
never be able to read God’s Word, but could only know what

Page -126-
 the priests told him, because he could not read the Scriptures.
Describe how you would feel if you could not read the Bible and
had to trust what others told you.
8. Do you think William Tyndale translated the Bible because he
wanted to be famous or because he wanted to help other people?
Explain your answer.

Vocabulary
abbeys because of its many abbeys and relics
abusively before the chancellor and abusively berated
addicted he was early addicted
adventurer an English merchant adventurer
approbation the necessary “approbation and permission”
berated before the chancellor and abusively berated
chancellor before the chancellor and abusively berated
chaplain he became chaplain to Sir John Walsh
convicted he was tried and convicted of heresy
furthered he furthered his knowledge of God’s Word
heresy he was tried and convicted of heresy
inestimable who did a service of inestimable value
Latin a good Latin scholar
Pentateuch he had translated the Pentateuch
priest a priest, a supposed man of great learning
relics because of its many abbeys and relics
revision his last revision
service who did a service of inestimable value
shrewd shrewd arguments
summoned he was at last summoned before the chancellor
superstitions of the Church and her superstitions
tolerate could not tolerate the false doctrines
translated the Scriptures must be translated into English
tried he was tried and convicted of heresy

Page -127-
 Lesson XXII
The Long Night

It was the close of a warm day in the latter part of August, and
little Franz Hoffmuster was playing in the cottage door with his
baby sister Karine. His older sister Therese was busy clearing away
the evening meal, and his brother Robert was industriously carving
curious wooden spoons and knives and forks to sell to travelers whom
his father might guide over the mountains, for you must know that
these four children lived in a little Swiss chalet, or cottage, at the
foot of some famous mountains. When little Franz lifted his eyes,
he did not see a row of nice brick houses, three stories high, but high
mountains stretching their grand old heads up into the very sky. The
mother of those little Swiss children had died more than a year ago;
and as they were poor, sister Therese, who was only twelve years
old, had been the little housekeeper ever since.
Now, when I tell you that the father had gone to guide some
travelers over the mountains, and would not be back until the next
day, I think you will feel quite well acquainted with this pleasant
family, and will like to hear a little more about them. It was sunset,
and Franz, quite tired of play, leaned his head against Therese’s knee,
and fixed his gentle blue eyes upon the majestic mountaintops.
“Do you remember, Brother,” said she, at length, “what the little
English boy’s father said the night he was here?”
“No. What did he say?”
“Why, we were looking at the sunset, and it was just as beautiful
as it is tonight, for it seemed as if all the mountaintops were ablaze,

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and you could imagine
the strangest things. At
last I thought it must be
like some of the grand,
faraway cities of which
the travelers so often talk.
So I went up to the good
gentleman and said, ‘Does
it look like London, sir?’ ”
“I do not think he
heard me, for he just kept
his eyes fixed upon the
mountains. He looked as
if he saw something very
fascinating in the remote
reaches of the peaks. And
while I was trying to think
what it was, he stretched
out his hands very slowly
and said, softly, ‘Lift up
your heads, O ye gates;
even lift them up ye
everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.’ These were
the very words, for I learned them afterwards from my little book.”
“Well,” broke in little Franz, breathlessly, “what happened then?
Did you see any door or gate, Sister, and did any king come in?”
“No,” said Therese, thoughtfully. “I could not think what the
good gentleman meant, for he only looked straight into the beautiful
red sunset, and I had seen it just the same often before. But he looked
so long and so earnestly that I began to be afraid that something was
going to happen. So I took hold of his hand and said, ‘Please, sir, do
you see any gate, and will the king soon come through?’

Page -129-
 “I had to ask him two or three times before he heard me; and
then he looked down so kindly, and smiled with his eyes, but did not
say anything at first. So I asked again, ‘Is it your king, sir?’
“ ‘Yes, little Therese, my King,’ said he.
“ ‘Is it the king of England?’ I asked.
“ ‘No,’ and he smiled a little more.
“ ‘The King of France?’
“ ‘No.’
“ ‘Ah! The king of Sweden, then?’
“ ‘No, Therese,’ said he. ‘It is the “King of glory.” ’
“ ‘And where is “Glory,” sir?’ I asked. ‘Is it far away behind the
mountains, and is it very near England?’
“ ‘No,’ said he, smiling more and more. ‘It is no nearer England
than Switzerland. But all good people, people who love the King,
are coming toward it every day, and the journey will not be long;
but bad people, those who do not love the King, are always going
farther and farther away.’ ”
“Well, Sister,” said Franz, slowly, “I tried to do right today.
Neighbor Ulrich was just going up the mountain with his mule and
a heavy load of bread and fruit, when the mule fell, and everything
tumbled over the ground. Ah, how angry he was; and when I first
ran up, he raised his whip to me, for he thought I only meant to
trouble him.”
“How awful,” interrupted Robert. “I would have marched away
after that.”
“Ah, no,” said the gentle Therese. “Then you would have been
as bad as he. I hope you were kind, little Franz.”
“Yes,” said Franz, “after a while. But at first, all sorts of bad
thoughts came tumbling into my head, and I wanted to call him an
ugly name. But I held my breath, just as you told me, Sister, and
shut my teeth hard; and pretty soon I felt sorry for him again, and
helped him until every thing was picked up.”

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 “And what did he say then?” asked Therese.
“Well, he said I was not as bad as some boys.”
“The old curmudgeon!” cried Robert. “Not as bad as some boys,
indeed! Was that the only thanks you got?”
“Well,” said Therese, soothingly, “he is a poor, lonely man, and
has no children to love him and make him smile. I am very glad
Franz helped him.”
“Do you think I came any nearer to ‘glory’?” whispered Franz,
with great earnestness.
“I hope you did,” replied Therese. “But Robert must not be left
behind. We must ask the great King to guide us, and tomorrow we
will all go on together.”
“The gates are shutting up now, are they not, Sister?” said little
Franz, as the beautiful rosy light paled in the west, and the old
mountaintops stood cold and solemn against the clear sky.
“Let us go in,” added Robert. “The night wind is cold from the
glacial crevasses, and I’m exhausted.”
“And I,” said little Franz, rubbing his misty blue eyes.
Karine was already sleeping, with her fat hand under her rosy
cheek; and in a short time the cottage door was bolted, and all these
little children, snug in their beds, were drifting off to dreamland.
Therese had not slept very long, when she felt a sudden shock,
as if something had struck the little chalet and made it tremble all
over.
“What is it?” murmured little Franz, dreamily.
“Is it morning already?” sighed poor tired Robert.
But Therese did not know what it could be; and while she was
still trying to think, her heavy eyelids drooped, and she was soon
fast asleep.
Two or three times she awoke again, and wondered if it were not
almost morning; but it was dark as midnight, and she would try to
compose herself again. But at last she became so wide awake that

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she rose up in bed and tried to look around the room. “It must be a
very dark night,” she thought to herself, “for almost always the stars
give a little light. I wonder how I happened to wake so early.”
Just then little Franz spoke, in a very weary voice, “Dear Therese,
when will it be morning? It is the very longest night I ever knew.”
“So I think,” cried Robert. “I’ve been awake half a dozen times,
and now I mean to get up.”
“Oh, no,” pleaded Franz. “Let us tell stories until daylight.” So
Therese, Robert, and Franz each told a long story; and just as they
finished, Karine woke up and cried loudly for her breakfast.
“I don’t wonder that she is hungry,” said Franz, “for I am half
starved, and cold too.”
“Ah,” sighed Therese, “if we only had a little light.” But they
could not find any, for their father kept all such things in a little
cupboard in the wall, and had taken the key with him.
So Therese searched until she found some milk for Karine, and
some black bread, which she gave to her brothers.
Then, as they could no longer sleep, they all dressed as well as
they could in the dark.
“I will go out,” said Robert, “and see if I can discover any signs
of morning.”
So he took down the heavy bar, when, to his surprise, the door
flew open, and he found himself upon the floor, half-buried in some
cold substance.
“Oh, Therese! Franz!” cried Robert, “come help me.”
“What can it be?” exclaimed all three, as they helped him upon
his feet.
“Why, this is snow,” cried little Franz, putting a handful to his
mouth.
“How can that be,” exclaimed Therese, “when it was so pleasant
last evening?”
For a few moments there was a profound silence; then Robert

Page -132-
gave a quick, sharp cry: “Oh, Therese! Could it be an avalanche?”
“No, no,” said Therese, in a trembling voice. “That cannot be, or
the roof would have fallen in, and we all would have been crushed to
death.”
“No,” said Robert. “I have heard father say that small ones
sometimes fall so lightly that sleeping families have never been
disturbed. But then I remember a noise in the night.”
“And I,” said Therese. The reality that an avalanche had engulfed
their little abode began to set in.
“And I,” repeated frightened little Franz.
“What can we do?” asked Therese, as firmly as she could.
“Will not Father dig us out?” sobbed Franz.
“I’m afraid he cannot find us.”
“Well,” said Robert, “I will try and dig through to the light,”
and finding an old shovel, he hurried to the door, and began to work
manfully. But it was all in the dark, and the snow fell over him until
he was half dead with cold and fatigue. Several times he tried again;
but as soon as he dug a little away, the snow was sure to fall down
and fill it up. Thus, at last he came, in saying despairingly, “Well,
Therese, if Father does not find us, we must die down here in the
dark.”
“If I could only see you, Sister,” said Franz, in a choking voice,
“I should not mind it so much.”
“Let us hold each other’s hands,” proposed Therese, and they all
huddled together by little Karine.
At first they were quite cheerful, and said often, “Oh, Father will
certainly find us.” But the long hours dragged on, and all was still as
the grave. Poor Karine cried very hard, for she could not understand
why it was so dark, and she could not see the sweet smile of her little
sister-mother.
But you would be very tired if I should tell you all that these
little children said and did through this prolonged night—how often

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they prayed to the King of heaven for help, how kind and gentle
they tried to be, and how they denied themselves food so that little
Karine might not be hungry. But at last there was nothing left to eat.
Karine was too tired and weak to cry any more, and only once in a
while made a little grieving moan. Robert had not spoken for a long
time, not since he had said, wildly, “Oh, Therese, Therese, I cannot,
cannot die!” and threw himself sobbing upon his bed.
Little Franz, who was becoming very ill, said some strange
things, so that Therese could not help weeping, when he whispered,
sadly, “All dark, no sun, no moon, no stars. Sister, when will the
King of glory come in?”
Suddenly a sound broke the stillness—a sound upon the roof.
“What is that?” cried Robert, starting eagerly upon his feet.
There were several heavy blows, and then a ray of bright,
beautiful sunshine came flashing through a hole in the wall, and a
voice exclaimed, “Little Franz Hoffmaster, are you there?”
Franz could not speak; but Robert gave a wild shout and hurrah.
“Yes, yes, neighbor Ulrich, here we all are!” and in a few moments
the room was filled with kind neighbors, who bore the little famished
children out into the dear light and air, where their father, who had
dropped down from fatigue, was awaiting them with great anxiety.
I cannot tell you of all the tears and embraces that were showered
upon these children. But it would have done your heart good to see
cross old neighbor Ulrich holding little Franz, and feeding him as
tenderly as if he had been his mother. And, oh! how beautiful the
world looked to them all.
“My dear children,” said the father, “God has been very kind to
you, and has saved you from very great peril; but next to Him you
must thank kind neighbor Ulrich, who has given himself no rest,
but, when others were discouraged, has always said, ‘Work on, work
on, there is a boy worth saving down there.’ ”
Robert blushed, as he remembered his unkind words, but Therese

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looked at Franz with a sweet smile.
Little Franz turned and kissed the rough cheek of neighbor
Ulrich; then, clasping his hands, he looked up to the clear sky and
said, softly, “Help me always to please Thee, dear King of glory.”

“If ye fulfil the royal law according to the scripture, Thou shalt love thy
neighbour as thyself, ye do well:” —James 2:8

Questions
1. How do you think Therese felt about having to be the one to fill
her mother’s shoes?
2. Why do you think the beautiful sunset made the traveler think
about God?
3. What do you think Mr. Ulrich thought Franz was going to do
when he ran up to him after his things spilled on the ground?
4. Why do you think Franz tried to do the right thing for Mr.
Ulrich?
5. Why do you think Mr. Ulrich pressed the other neighbors to try
to save the children?
6. Do you think Franz expected to have a good deed done unto him
by Mr. Ulrich since he did something for him? Explain your
answer.

What Do You Think?

7. Should we only do good deeds to those who appear to like us,
or should we do good deeds to those who appear to dislike us as
well? Why?
8. Can you think of a good deed you can do for someone?

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Vocabulary
ablaze if all the mountaintops were ablaze
abode had engulfed their little abode
avalanche could it be an avalanche
bolted the cottage door was bolted
chalet as if something had struck the little chalet
crevasses from the glacial crevasses
curmudgeon the old curmudgeon
drifting were drifting off to dreamland
embraces all the tears and embraces
engulfed that an avalanche had engulfed their little abode
exhausted I’m exhausted
fascinating he saw something very fascinating
fixed kept his eyes fixed upon the mountains
glacial from the glacial crevasses
latter in the latter part of August
majestic upon the majestic mountaintops
peaks in the remote reaches of the peaks
profound there was a profound silence
prolonged did through this prolonged night
reaches in the remote reaches of the peaks
remote in the remote reaches of the peaks
royal if ye fulfil the royal law
soothingly said Therese, soothingly
tremble struck the little chalet and made it tremble

Page -136-
 Lesson XXIII
Plain Little Patty

One bright December morning, Patty, the poor cobbler’s only

daughter, was busy as usual, sweeping out the small shop, and putting
everything nicely to rights. The tea kettle was simmering, and the
table was neatly set in the little back kitchen; and as soon as her
work was done she could call her father, and have a nice comfortable
breakfast of tea and bread and butter. But still Patty lingered. She
had only to open the door, and brush out the sill, and sweep the
bricks nicely down to the gutter; but still she stood resolute as much
as five minutes, with one hand on the latch and the other nervously
pulling at her straight wiry hair. At last, with sudden determination,
she flung the door open, and looking anxiously up and down the
street, began sweeping vigorously. It was almost done, and Patty’s
brow had lightened very much, when she heard behind her a voice
which made her start, flush violently red, and then nervously put one
small hand over the little pug nose, which had turned a bright scarlet
in the sharp winter air.
“Ah, good morning, Miss Griffin!” cried the shrill voice. “You
are as charming as ever, I see. But don’t hold your hand quite so
close to that nose—you’ll be burnt, I’m sure.” And the little girl
danced around tauntingly, just out of reach of Patty’s broom.
Poor Patty! She had bravely borne this and more almost every
day since Margot had moved into the neighborhood; but this morning
she felt very nervous and sensitive, and as the thought rushed upon
her, “I certainly am the homeliest girl in all the world,” her small

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hand fell hopelessly from her strange little nose; and, with great
tears in her gray eyes, she looked pitifully at her tormentor.
“How very good God has been to Margot. He had given her a
beautiful white skin, and straight features, and soft, curling hair, and
when the December wind came flinging a great splash of vermillion
right on my strange little knob of a nose, He only painted Margot’s
cheeks with the sweetest color in the world. But I am as brown
as—as brown as my old dress, and—oh, I don’t know how to bear
it!” and Patty hurried to go in, and crawl under the counter, and have
a good cry.
The squeaking of the door drowned the little sob as she entered
the shop, or her poor half-blind father would have known something
had gone wrong. As it was he only said, “Come, little daughter, isn’t
it very late? Shan’t we read our chapter, and then have breakfast?”
So Patty smothered her grief, and put off crawling under the
counter until a more convenient season; and while her father read
some of the beautiful words of Jesus, she grew quite calm, although
the tears came again to her eyes, and she shook her head quite
hopelessly, as he read, “But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless
them which curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for
them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.”
“What is the use in trying to love anybody?” said Patty bitterly
to herself. “No one will ever love me—Margot said so—because I
am so homely”—and again the tears fell fast, as Patty poured out tea
and made toast for her father.
“Thanks, kind little daughter,” said the cobbler, as she placed the
simple food before him. “You make me think of your dear mother.
She had a lovely face, and I think you look like her, Patty.”
Patty started, and a smile of sweet surprise almost transfigured
the large mouth, but it died as suddenly as it came.
“Father is half blind,” she said to herself. “He hasn’t the least
idea how I really look. He has never heard Margot talk, and he

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doesn’t know that I’m a ‘black
spider,’ and a ‘monkey,’ and a
‘toad.’ Father is the only one
that loves me.” And poor
Patty wondered if it was very
wicked and selfish to be glad
that Father couldn’t see any
better.
After the breakfast things
were cleared away, Patty
went up to her room, and
looked at herself sorrowfully
in the little cracked glass—at
her heavy, red-rimmed eyes,
little turned-up nose, big
mouth, and stiff hair. It was
very sad indeed; and, falling upon her knees, Patty prayed that “God
would bless her too—would make her grow just a little pretty, or
would do something to make her a little happier.” And I think the
prayer was heard, though Patty was quite discouraged through the
greater part of the day. Margot came every little while to make
faces at the shop window where Patty sat patiently binding shoes;
and once she brought two or three other girls and boys, to whom she
showed Patty, as if she were a great fright and curiosity.
All this was very hard to bear; but brave Patty kept it to herself,
and would not grieve her old father, who sat cheerfully but painfully
over his work.
But toward night, when it was getting almost too dark to see,
Patty suddenly heard a terrible cry, and, catching up her blanket
shawl, she ran to the door, when what should she see but Margot,
running up the street with loud screams, and the front of her dress all
on fire. For a moment some very wicked thoughts came into Patty’s

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head. “Her pretty face will all be gone now,” she said. “The cruel
fire will make long red seams in her soft skin, her pretty curls will
shrivel up, and she will look more like a toad than I do. And I can’t
help her,” continued Patty, trying to excuse herself. “What could
such a little girl as I do? I should only burn too.” All these thoughts
were as swift as a flash of lightning, and in another moment— Patty
could never tell how it happened—but she found herself running
right up to poor, wretched Margot, with her shawl all spread out.
With all her strength she threw Margot on the ground, and pressed
the shawl tightly down all around her; and before the other neighbors
could get to her, the flames were quite smothered in the thick woolen
folds; and Margot was taken home, very much frightened, but with
only a few trifling burns.
As for Patty, she was folded close in her father’s arms, and they
laughed and cried together. Then the neighbors came in, and called
her a brave little girl, worth a dozen Margots—for Margot was no
favorite in the neighborhood. Then one of the little boys who had
pretended to be so frightened came timidly, and said, “Please forgive
me, Patty, for what I did today. I don’t think you are ugly at all; and
when you smile, I think you look sweeter than any girl I know.”
“Yes,” continued a neighbor, “the plainest face in the world
looks pretty when a beautiful soul shines through.”
“Yes,” said Dame Goodwin, “and the beautiful faces only give
pleasure for a little time, for they soon grow faded and old; but God
will sooner or later call all the beautiful souls up to His heaven.”
“How God has blessed my little daughter!” whispered the
cobbler, tremulously. “Everyone must love her.” And Patty felt
quite bewildered with happiness, and longed to get away to her own
little room, and give thanks for this sweet answer to her prayers.
Do you wonder after this that Patty cried no more over her plain
face, but only prayed every day that God would give her the greater
blessing of a beautiful soul?

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“Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair,
and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it be the hidden
man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of
a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.” —1
Peter 3:3-4

Questions
1. Describe the contrast of appearances between Margot and
Patty.
2. Do you think Margot was a proud girl? Explain why or why
not.
3. Do you think something was wrong with Patty’s appearance, or
was it just Margot who felt that there was something wrong with
her appearance? Explain your answer.
4. Why do you think Patty did not believe her father when he told
her that she had a lovely face like her mother?
5. When Patty saw Margot’s dress on fire and had her unkind
thoughts, do you think she would have been justified if she had
let Margot get burned? Which parts of the Bible verse her father
read would apply to this situation?
6. Do you think Patty would have regretted it if she did not put out
the fire that was burning Margot’s dress? Explain why or why
not.
7. Do you think God answered Patty’s prayer in the way that she
wanted Him to answer it?

What Do You Think?

8. There is a saying which says “Beauty is in the eye of the
beholder.” How do you think that saying could be applied to
this story?
9. Do you think Margot’s vision to behold Patty’s beauty was
clouded by her pride? Why?

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10. Think about how you view other people. Do you allow your
pride to cloud your vision?

Vocabulary
adorning Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning
apparel of putting on of apparel
cobbler the poor cobbler’s only daughter
convenient until a more convenient season
corruptible in that which is not corruptible
dame “Yes,” said Dame Goodwin
drowned The squeaking of the door drowned the little sob
homely because I am so homely
kettle the tea kettle was simmering
lingered but still Patty lingered
plain plain little Patty
plaiting that outward adorning of plaiting the hair
pug little pug nose
shrill cried the shrill voice
shrivel her pretty curls will shrivel up
simmering the tea kettle was simmering
transfigured almost transfigured the large mouth
tremulously whispered the cobbler, tremulously
trifling with only a few trifling burns
vermillion a great splash of vermillion
vigorously began sweeping vigorously

Page -142-
 Lesson XXIV
The Great Harvest

Growing together, wheat and tares,

Clustering thick and green,
Fanned by the gentle summer airs,
Under the sky serene,
Over them both the sunlight falls,
Over them both the rain,
Till angels come when the Master calls,
To gather the golden grain.

Growing together side by side,

Both shall the reaper meet,
Tares aloft in their scornful pride,
Bowing their heads the wheat,
Swift and sure o’er the waving plain
The sickle sharp shall fly,
And the precious wheat, and abundant grain,
Shall be harvested in the sky.

But as for the tares, for them the word

Of a fatal doom is cast;
“Bind and burn,” said the blessed Lord,
They shall leave the wheat at last.
Never again the summer rain,
Never the sunshine sweet,
That were lavished freely, all in vain,
On the tares among the wheat.

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Where shall the reapers look for us
When that day of days shall come?
Solemn the thought, with grandeur fraught,
Of that wondrous harvest home.
None but the wheat shall be gathered in,
By the Master’s own command;
For the tares alone the doom of sin
And the flame in the Judge’s hand.

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 Jesus, oh, grant when Thine angels come,
To reap the fields for Thee,
We may be gathered safely home,
Where the precious wheat may be.

“Let both grow together until the harvest: and in the time of harvest I
will say to the reapers, Gather ye together first the tares, and bind them
in bundles to burn them: but gather the wheat into my barn.” —Matthew
13:30

Questions
1. Read the first stanza of the poem again and try to visualize in
your mind the picture the author is painting. Write a description
of what you see.
2. What are the wheat and tares used to represent in the poem?
3. What was shared equally by the tares and the wheat?
4. What does the reaper meet equally?

What Do You Think?

5. Since the wheat and the tares were treated the same, what do you
think was the difference between the two?
6. The poem is using a physical picture of God’s nature to paint
a spiritual picture. The wheat and the tares grow together and
share all of God’s physical blessings. Judgment day comes and
God judges justly and fairly. The wheat is gathered and the tares
are discarded and burned. During the summer days of growing
all seemed the same. Write a few sentences describing your
thoughts about this picture.
7. What do you think: will you be a stalk of wheat or a tare? What
makes you think so?

Page -145-
Vocabulary
abundant and abundant grain
aloft tares aloft in their scornful pride
bind bind and burn
bundles bind them in bundles to burn
clustering clustering thick and green
doom the doom of sin
fatal a fatal doom is cast
fraught with grandeur fraught
grain and abundant grain
grandeur with grandeur fraught
harvest the great harvest
lavished that were lavished freely
plain o’er the waving plain
reaper both shall the reaper meet
scornful tares aloft in their scornful pride
serene under the sky serene
sickle the sickle sharp shall fly
tares tares aloft in their scornful pride

Page -146-
 Lesson XXV
Joe Benton’s Coal Yard

Just imagine the loveliest May morning that ever was made: the
sun so lately risen that its long golden rays still trailed on the hilltops,
and the robins singing such extravagant songs while the violets open
as wide as possible. There must have been something very curious
in the air that morning, for when Joe Benton sprang out of the back
door with hair as golden as the sun’s, and eyes as blue as the violet’s,
and voice almost as sweet as the robin’s, he took one long breath,
and shouted a vigorous hurrah! But, seeming just as excited as the
birds, he didn’t feel at all relieved until he had climbed a tree, turned
three somersaults, and jumped over the garden fence.
“Saturday, too,” he said to himself, as he rested upon the other
side. “Was there ever anything so wonderful? Now I’ll just have
time to run down to the brook before breakfast and see if our boat is
all right. Then I’ll hurry home, and learn my lessons for Monday,
for we boys are to meet and launch her at nine o’clock, and the
captain ought to be on time.”
So Joe’s feet clattered vigorously down to the little cave where
the precious boat was hidden. But as he neared the place, an
exclamation of surprise escaped him, for there were signs of some
intruder, and the big stone before the cave had been rolled away.
Hastily drawing forth his treasure, he burst into loud cries of dismay,
for there was the beautiful little boat, which Cousin Herbert had
given him, with its sails split into a hundred shreds, and a large hole
bored into the bottom.

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 Joe stood for a moment motionless with grief and surprise; then,
with a face as red as a peony, he burst forth—“I know who did it—the
mean scamp! It was Fritz Brown; and he was mad because I didn’t
ask him to come to the launch. But I’ll pay him for this caper,” said
little Joe through his set teeth; and hastily pushing back the ruined
boat, he hurried a little farther down the road, and fastened a short
piece of string across the footpath, a few inches from the ground;
next, he carefully hid himself in the bushes.
Now the golden sun had disappeared behind the clouds as if
holding a little cloud handkerchief over its eyes, but Joe did not
notice it. He only knew that he was very angry and miserable, and
he wondered that he had ever thought it was a pleasant morning.
Presently a step was heard, and Joe eagerly peeped out. How
provoking! instead of Fritz, it was Cousin Herbert, the very last
person he cared to see; and hastily unfastening his string, Joe tried
to lie very quiet. But it was all in vain, for Cousin Herbert’s sharp
eye caught a curious moving in the bushes, and, brushing them right
and left, he soon came upon Joe. “How’s this?” cried he, looking
straight into the boy’s blazing face; but Joe answered not a word.
“You’re not ashamed to tell me what you were doing?”
“No, I’m not,” said Joe, sturdily, after a short pause; “I’ll just tell
you the whole story,” and out it came, down to the closing threat,
“and I mean to make Fritz smart for it!”
“What do you mean to do?”
“Why, you see, Fritz carries a basket of eggs to market every
morning, and I mean to trip him over this string, and smash ’em
all.”
Now Joe knew well enough that he was not showing the right
spirit; and he muttered to himself, “Now for a good scolding,” but,
to his great surprise, Cousin Herbert said, quietly, “Well, I think
Fritz should pay some penalty, but this string is an old trick. I can
tell you something better than that.”

Page -148-
 “What?” cried Joe, eagerly.
“How would you like to put a few coals of fire on his head?”
“What, and burn him?” said Joe, doubtfully. Cousin Herbert
nodded with a strange smile. Joe clapped his hands. “Now that’s
just the thing, Cousin Herbert. You see, his hair is so thick that he
wouldn’t get burned much before he’d have time to shake ’em off;
Page -149-
but I’d just like to see him jump once. Now tell me how to do it,
quick!”
“ ‘If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat; and if he be
thirsty, give him water to drink: for thou shalt heap coals of fire upon
his head, and the Lord shall reward thee,’ ” said Cousin Herbert,
gravely. “I think that’s the best kind of punishment Fritz could
have.”
Joe’s face lengthened terribly. “Now, I do say, Cousin Herbert,
that’s a real take-in. That’s just no punishment at all.”
“Try it once,” said Cousin Herbert. “Treat Fritz kindly, and I’m
certain he will feel so ashamed and unhappy that he would far rather
have you kick or beat him.”
Joe was not really such a bad boy at heart, but he was now in a
very ill temper, and he said sullenly, “But you’ve told me a story,
Cousin Herbert. You said these kind of coals would burn, and they
don’t at all.”
“You’re mistaken about that,” said his cousin, cheerily. “I’ve
known such coals to burn up a great amount of rubbish: malice,
envy, ill-feeling, vengeance, and I don’t know how much more, and
then leave some very cold hearts feeling as warm and pleasant as
possible.”
Joe drew a long sigh. “Well, tell me a good coal to put on Fritz’s
head, and I’ll see about it.”
“You know,” said Cousin Herbert, smiling, “that Fritz is very
poor, and can seldom buy himself a book, although he is extravagantly
fond of reading; but you have quite a library. Now suppose—ah!
well, I won’t suppose anything about it. I’ll just leave you to think
over the matter, and find your own coal; and be sure and kindle it
with love, for no other fire burns so brightly and so long.” With a
cheery whistle Cousin Herbert sprang over the fence and was gone.
Before Joe had time to collect his thoughts, he saw Fritz coming
down the lane, carrying a basket of eggs in one hand and a pail of

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milk in the other.
For one minute the thought crossed Joe’s mind, “What a grand
smash it would have been if Fritz had fallen over the string,” and
then again he blushed to his eyes, and was glad enough that the
string was safe in his pocket.
Fritz started and looked very uncomfortable when he first caught
sight of Joe, but the boy began abruptly, “Fritz, do you have much
time to read now?”
“Sometimes,” said Fritz, “when I’ve driven the cows home, and
done all my chores, I have a little piece of daylight left; but the
trouble is, I’ve read every thing I could get hold of.”
“How would you like to take my new book of travels?”
Fritz’s eyes danced. “Oh, may I, may I? I’d be so careful of
it.”
“Yes,” answered Joe, “and perhaps I’ve some others you’d like
to read. And, Fritz,” he added, a little slyly, “I would ask you to
come and help sail my boat today, but someone has torn up the sails,
and made a great hole in the bottom. Who do you suppose did it?”
Fritz’s head slumped upon his chest; but after a moment he
looked up with a great effort and said, “I did it, Joe; but I can’t begin
to tell you how sorry I am. You didn’t know I was so mean, when
you promised me the books.”
“Well, I rather thought you did it,” said Joe, slowly.
“And yet you didn’t—” Fritz couldn’t get any further, for his
cheeks were in a perfect blaze, and he rushed off without another
word.
“Cousin Herbert was right,” said Joe to himself; “that coal does
burn; and I know Fritz would rather I had smashed every egg in his
basket than offered to lend him that book. But I feel fine,” and Joe
took three more somersaults, and went home with a light heart, and
a grand appetite for breakfast.
When the captain and the crew of the little vessel met at the

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appointed hour, they found Fritz there before them, eagerly trying to
repair the injuries; and as soon as he saw Joe he hurried to present
him with a beautiful little flag which he had bought for the boat with
part of his egg money that very morning. The boat was repaired, and
made a grand trip, and everything turned out as Cousin Herbert had
said, for Joe’s heart was so warm and full of kind thoughts that he
never was more happy in all his life. And Joe found out afterwards
that the more he used of this curious kind of coal, the larger supply
he had on hand—kind thoughts, kind words, and kind actions. “I
declare, Cousin Herbert,” said he, with a strange twinkle in his eye,
“I think I shall have to set up a coal yard.”
His friends, who saw that Joe was always happy, studied the
secret too; and at last, if any trouble or dispute arose, someone would
say, “Let’s try a few of Joe Benton’s coals,” and it was astonishing
to see how soon all the evil passions were burned to ashes, and how
quickly the young hearts grew warm toward each other. Come, Tom,
Dick, and Harry, who have ever so much rubbish to be burned, and
whose hearts are all in a shiver with cold, unloving looks you gave
each other this morning; won’t you try, just for once, to find out the
happy secret that lies in Joe Benton’s happy coal yard?

“If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat; and if he be thirsty, give
him water to drink: for thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head, and the
LORD shall reward thee.” —Proverbs 25:21-22

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Questions
1. Read the first paragraph of the story, close your eyes, and then
describe what you see in a few sentences.
2. Describe how you think Fritz felt because he was not invited to
the boat launch.
3. Do you think that if Joe was in Fritz’s shoes, he would have had
the same feelings as Fritz? Why?
4. Why do you think Joe did not want to see his cousin, Herbert,
and tried to hide from him?
5. What do you think of the way Herbert handled Joe? What did
Herbert do to try to win him over to his side?
6. Which action do you think achieved the better outcome and felt
better in the long run—smashing the eggs, or applying “coals of
fire”? Why?
7. The Bible uses the term “coals of fire on his head,” when we
do not really put fire on someone’s head. If we were to think of
this physically like Joe did, it would be a bad thing. The term
is used to describe the way it makes someone feel when we do
something good for someone who has done evil to us. How did
Joe’s coal make Fritz feel?

What Do You Think?

8. Do you normally respond to others who wrong you with “coals
of fire,” or do you respond with more wrongdoing? List a few
ways in which you can respond to someone who has done wrong
to you.

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Vocabulary
appointed the little vessel met at the appointed hour
bored a large hole bored into the bottom
captain the captain and the crew
clattered Joe’s feet clattered vigorously down to the
coals heap coals of fire upon his head
crew the captain and the crew
dispute if any trouble or dispute arose
extravagant the robins singing such extravagant songs
heap for thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his head
intruder were signs of some intruder
launch for we boys are to meet and launch her
motionless Joe stood for a moment motionless with grief
penalty should pay some penalty
peony with a face as red as a peony
rubbish so much rubbish to be burned
slumped Fritz’s head slumped upon his chest
smart to make Fritz smart for it
somersaults turned three somersaults
threat down to the closing threat
vengeance burn up a great amount of rubbish: malice, envy, ill-
feeling, vengeance
vessel the little vessel met at the appointed hour

Page -154-
 Lesson XXVI
The Dangerous Door

“Cousin Will, Cousin Will, tell us a story! Do, please. There’s

just time before the school bell rings,” cried Harry, Kate, Bob, and
“Little Peace.” A rosy battalion encircled Will’s chair, and at Bob’s
word of command, “Present arms!” the children embraced his knees,
clung around his neck, and otherwise made such a vigorous attack,
that Cousin Will sued for mercy and declared himself quite ready to
surrender.
“Well, what shall it be, Little Peace?” said he, taking the plump
hand of his favorite Lucy, upon whom had been conferred the name
of “Peace,” or “Peacemaker,” which was attributable to her gentle
disposition. She never could abide angry words, or see an unloving
look pass between her little friends or brothers and sisters, without
doing everything in her power to smooth over the trouble, and get
them to “kiss and make up.”
“Well, Little Peace, what shall it be?”
“Something true this time,” said Peace, “for I’m getting tired of
tales.”
“Very well,” said Cousin Will. “I’ve only five minutes and must
be quick. I’m going to tell you about some very dangerous doors
I’ve seen.”
“Oh, that’s good!” exclaimed Bob. “Were they all iron, and
heavy bars, and if one passed through would they shut with a great
snap, and keep him there forever?”
“No,” replied Cousin Will, “the doors I mean are very pleasant

Page -155-
to look upon. They are pink or scarlet, like seashells, and when they
open you can see a row of little servants standing all in white, and
just behind them is a little lady dressed in crimson.”
“Why, that’s splendid!” cried Kate. “I should like to go in
myself.”
“Ah, it is what comes out of those doors that makes them so
dangerous. It is always best to have a strong guard on each side, or

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else there is great trouble and misery.”
“Why, what comes out?” said Little Peace, with wondering
eyes.
“Well, I’ve never seen very clearly,” said Cousin Will, “but
sometimes, when the guards were away, I’ve known something
to come out sharper than arrows or stings of bees, and make some
terrible wounds. Indeed, quite lately I saw two very pretty little
doors close together, and when one opened the little crimson lady
began to talk very fast and said something like this: ‘Oh! Did you
see Susy Waters today? What a proud, “stuck-up” thing she is, and
that dress she thinks so much of is made out of her sister’s old one.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said the little crimson lady looking out of the other door,
‘I know just what you mean.’ Then poor Susy Waters, who was only
round the corner of the house, felt a sharp little sting in her heart,
and ran home to cry all the pleasant summer evening.”
“I know what you mean, Cousin Will,” cried Kate, coloring
violently, “but I don’t think it was at all right for you to stand around
listening.”
“Oh! Do you mean our mouths are the doors,” exclaimed Harry,
“and the little crimson lady is Miss Tongue?”
“Even so,” said Cousin Will.
“Well, who are the guards, and where do they come from?”
asked Bob.
“Why, you have to ask God. This is what you must say: ‘Set a
watch, O Lord, upon my lips; keep the door of my lips.’ Then He
will send Patience and Love to stand on one side of the door, and
Truth and Humility on the other, and the sharp, bitter, stinging little
words won’t dare to come out.”
“I shall ask God,” said Little Peace thoughtfully. Cousin Will
kissed her and repeated the verse until each one could say it. “Now
run to school,” cried he cheerily, “and when you come home, I will
tell you the minute I look at the four little doors whether the King’s

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guards have been there all day.”
So the children trooped away with their baskets and books, and
Love certainly guarded the doors all the way to the schoolhouse.
Even impulsive Kate thought deeply on Cousin Will’s gentle censure
and made great resolutions for the future. During the morning great
peace and harmony reigned throughout the school, but as the day
advanced it became very warm. Every round cheek became flushed,
and the restless little figures seemed examples of perpetual motion.
“Oh, I never did see such flies!” said Jenny Wood, fretfully
waving her hand around her head.
“Why, Jenny Wood,” cried Susy Waters, almost aloud, “you’ve
knocked my elbow, and shaken ink all over my copy! You’re a
careless girl!”
“Susan,” said Miss Saunders, the teacher, “are you
whispering?”
“No, ma’am,” replied Susy after a slight hesitation.
Peace looked up with such surprise in her innocent eyes that
Miss Saunders turned to her, asking, “Lucy, who was whispering in
your part of the room?”
Susy and Jenny both turned upon her, each with a very threatening
look, and Little Peace, coloring painfully, burst into tears.
“Never mind,” said Miss Saunders kindly. “I did not think it was
you, but Susy may sit a while upon the recitation bench.”
Susy looked black, and as she passed Little Peace she gave
the child such a pinch that Lucy could scarcely keep from crying
aloud.
“You’re a cruel, wicked girl!” began Miss Tongue; but Love and
Patience kept the little red door tightly shut, and Susy did not hear a
word. Little Peace cried quietly to herself a long time, but nobody
seemed to notice it until school was out when sister Kate flew up to
Susy Waters.
“Well, Susy, you certainly are the meanest girl—and more than

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that, you’re a coward, for I’ve heard Father say that only cowards
hurt people who are smaller and weaker than themselves.”
Now Love, Humility, and Patience had all tried to keep guard and
to whisper, “Poor Susy; she was very tired and warm, and nobody
speaks kindly to her. Try and forgive her.” But no! the door was
slung open, and little Miss Tongue pitched all those hard stones at
Susy’s heart.
Now Susy was very passionate, and she stamped her feet, grew
crimson with rage, and said such very hard things that Jenny Wood
and most of the other girls took sides with Kate. There was soon
such a babel of tongues that the boys left their game of ball and
came to see what was afoot.
“What is it, Peace?” cried Harry Graham, taking his little
frightened sister from Kate’s neck. “Why, Katy, you look as mad as
poor puss when Towser has chased her for an hour. I wonder what
Cousin Will would say to that mouth?”
Katy looked a little shamed, and Fred Waters, taking his sister
by the arm, led her away home while she bitterly kept telling over
wrongs in his sympathizing ear. So the little party separated, and
Kate ran home with her flushing cheeks, taking the precaution to
keep out of Cousin Will’s way.
Immediately after tea, Jenny Wood came into the garden. “Oh,
Kate,” she cried, “I must tell you what John is going to do. You
know he does not like that Susy Waters any more than I do, and he
says he will pay her tonight for all her meanness.”
“What will he do?” cried Kate, a little nervously.
“Why, he, with one of the other boys, is going there after dark
to get that white kitten she thinks so much of, and leave it way out
in the woods. Oh! It will probably find its way back but she will be
furious when she sees that it is gone in the morning.”
Kate looked a little doubtful, and said, “Oh! I’m afraid that
won’t be just right.”

Page -159-
 But Jenny talked so fast, and recalled so many mean things that
Susy had said and done, that Kate’s scruples were soon overcome.
But Peace, who had stood by with sad, troubled eyes, immediately
resolved in her generous little heart to try and give Susy warning.
Finding Bob, she hastily told him the whole story, and that she must
go to Susy’s, but she’d run all the way, and be back before dark.
It was a long walk for the tired little girl, but the patient feet
started bravely on their errand of love. The sun set—the shadows
lengthened—all the little birds sang their sweet good-night and put
their heads under their wings, but no Little Peace came back. Soon
there were inquiries on every side, and great shouting and calling,
but no sweet echoing voice returned. Searchers were dispatched
in every direction, but all in vain. Soon the family became much
alarmed, and little Bob was awakened to be asked if he knew
anything of his sister. He told all the story, and Kate, coloring under
Cousin Will’s reproachful gaze, burst into bitter weeping. But no
one had time to comfort her, for Father, Mother, Cousin Will, and
all, started forth with lanterns to find Lucy.
“I suppose she is blessed wherever she is,” said little Bob
confidently, “because she’s a peacemaker.”
“Or perhaps,” groaned Kate, “she’s gone away from us all to be
one of the children of God.”
All night long they searched for Little Peace, but she had not
been at Susy’s, nor could she be found anywhere. When the morning
dawned, all the little schoolmates with solemn faces joined in the
search.
Susy Waters, who had heard the whole story of the dear heart of
Little Peace, came up to Kate with a pale, tear-stained face. “Oh,
Kate, I shall never be happy again. How cruel I was to your sweet
little sister. Can you ever forgive me?”
Humility opened the door, and Kate said softly, “I am just as bad
as you. If I had only been as kind as Peace, you would have been

Page -160-
different. I shall never forgive myself.”
Just then Bob cried, “Here’s part of her dress on the fence.”
Cousin Will sprang forward, and, climbing over, looked eagerly
around.
Suddenly Farmer Waters cried, “There’s an old, half-choked
well by the fence in the next field. Could the little one have lost her
way and fallen in that?”
Cousin Will rushed forward, followed by the whole company.
Yes, the rotten old boards which had covered it for years were
broken, and there was another piece of the little blue dress.
Cousin Will shuddered, and threw himself down to look over the
brink. Then came a wild, triumphant cry! The old well was nearly
filled up with rubbish. She had only fallen a little way, and was there,
bathed in the rosy morning light. The eager eyes, looking over, saw
the fair hair and the sweet, calm eyes of Little Peace. Every boy’s
cap took a turn in the air, and a clear, ringing “hurrah!” carried the
good news to every house in the place.
Then followed warm embraces and happy tears as the child was
passed from friend to friend. Then, while Susy, Jenny, and Kate
knelt hand in hand, the good old minister, with his hand on the head
of Little Peace, offered up a fervent thanksgiving. And after praying
that the little lambs might never forget the lesson of this night, but
that God would teach them that life and death were in the power
of the tongue, and praying for God to always keep the doors of all
those tender mouths, the minister added reverently—
“O Lord, open thou my lips; and my mouth shall shew forth thy
praise.” And all the children said, “Amen.”

“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of
God.” —Matthew 5:9

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Questions
1. What pictures were in your mind or what did you think the doors
were when you read the following description in the story?
“No,” replied Cousin Will, “the doors I mean are very pleasant
to look upon. They are pink or scarlet, like seashells, and when
they open you can see a row of little servants standing all in
white, and just behind them is a little lady dressed in crimson.”
2. As you picture your lips as two doors and your tongue as the
messenger of your heart, what feelings do you think were in
Kate’s heart when she made fun of Susy Waters?
3. Why do you think Kate accused Cousin Will of “standing around
listening” when she was confronted with her wrongdoing?
4. What do you think the right thing would have been for Jenny
and Susy to do when the teacher asked Lucy who was talking?
5. Describe how you think Kate felt inside when she ran up to
Susy.
6. How might either girl have prevented the unhappy outcome of
the argument in the story?

What Do You Think?

7. If you analyze each situation in the story, each girl felt she had
good reason for being angry and not controlling her tongue, but
each suffered negative consequences for her lack of self-control.
Think about the use of your tongue and how you interact with
others. Name a few ways you can make changes in your life to
be able to control your tongue.

Page -162-
Vocabulary
abide she never could abide angry words
afoot came to see what was afoot
attributable which was attributable to her gentle disposition
babel there was soon such a babel of tongues
battalion a rosy battalion encircled Will’s chair
brink threw himself down to look over the brink
censure Cousin Will’s gentle censure
coloring coloring under Cousin Will’s reproachful gaze
conferred upon whom had been conferred the name
disposition which was attributable to her gentle disposition
encircled a rosy battalion encircled Will’s chair
figures the restless little figures seemed examples
harmony peace and harmony reigned throughout the
school
lanterns started forth with lanterns to find Lucy
perpetual examples of perpetual motion
pitched Miss Tongue pitched all those hard stones
precaution taking the precaution to keep out of
present present arms
scruples that Kate’s scruples were soon overcome
slung the door was slung open
sued that Cousin Will sued for mercy
surrender declared himself quite ready to surrender
sympathizing kept telling over wrongs in his sympathizing ear

Page -163-
 Lesson XXVII
Jamie’s Struggle

“Where’s Jamie?” asked Madge timidly, coming into the room,

cheery with its pretty crimson coal fire and bright, yellow jets of gas
light.
Her cousin looked up coldly at the question, Uncle Gould
frowned ominously over his paper, and Aunt Gould just said, very
sternly, “In his room.”
Madge looked uneasily from one to the other, but no single pair
of eyes turned upon her with sympathy or explanation, and after
a few moments of indecision, she laid down her schoolbooks and
exited the room. In the hall she met the housemaid.
“Oh! Betty, please tell me, has anything happened? And why
didn’t Jamie come to school this afternoon?”
Betty shook her head. “Well, Miss, I don’t like to grieve you,
but your brother has done a shocking thing, and if he was a poor
boy now, I suppose he’d be looking through iron bars tonight in the
county jail!”
“Oh, Betty! What do you mean?” said Madge, turning quite
pale.
“Well, Miss,” said Betty, sinking her voice to a whisper, “you’d
have to know it some time, I suppose, and the fact is he’s just been
stealin’ money out of master’s drawer!—A hundred dollars, more or
less!”
“It isn’t so!” cried Madge, in a loud tone, which almost startled
herself. “What, Jamie steal? It’s a wicked lie!” and she burst into

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tears.
“Very well,” said the offended Betty, “you’ll soon find whether
I tell a lie or no. I believe he’s none too good to be a thief.”
But Madge was out of hearing, running two steps at a time up
the broad stairs, until she reached a little room at the farther end of
the third story corridor. She burst in without any ceremony, but all
was still in the cold winter twilight, except the dismal dashing of
sleet against the windowpanes. “Jamie?” she called, anxiously.
At first there was no reply, and then a little movement behind the
dingy brown curtains betrayed him, and Madge was at his side, with
her arms flung around his neck.
“I knew you had heard it all the minute you called me,” faltered
Jamie, trying to smile. “I heard the ‘tears in your voice,’ you know;
but you don’t believe it?”
“Never!” cried Madge, vehemently. “Now tell me all about it.
How could any one dare to say so?”
“I hardly know where to begin,” said Jamie, with a great effort
at self-control. “I’ll have to tell you something I’ve been keeping
secret ever since last summer. You see, when cousin Belle had
her birthday last June and all the girls swept around in such pretty
shining silks, or else dresses half clouds and half cobwebs, and you
only had that pink calico, it hurt me—I don’t know why. You looked
just as sweet as any—the prettiest of all, I thought; but when Fisher
Knight said, ‘Just look at my sister! Isn’t she pretty? And doesn’t
her dress look as if she’d bought three or four yards of sunset, and
had the moon up all night sewing stars on it?’ then the boys laughed,
and I said, ‘And isn’t my sister pretty too?’ for you did look as sweet
as a rose, I thought. But that proud Fisher Knight laughed just like a
knife—I mean it seemed to cut right into me—and he said, ‘Oh, yes,
and how kind Betty was to lend her that dress.’ Some of the boys
said, ‘Too bad!’ but that only hurt me more, and I crept away pretty
soon, and lay behind the thick snowball bushes, and looked up into

Page -165-
Page -166-
the great still sky, and wondered why God couldn’t have taken you
and me too, when Father and Mother died, and not left us to come to
this proud, rich uncle, who does not love us, and who treats us like
little beggars.”
“Oh, don’t say so, Jamie,” said Madge, soothingly. “I’m sure
he’s been very kind to us sometimes.”
“I don’t remember many times just now,” sighed Jamie. “Well,
a little while after that, I heard Lutie say that her birthday came in
the winter, and she meant to have a grand time, and invite every
boy and girl she had ever seen. Then I thought to myself, ‘Now
they will want to dress Madge in some ugly brown merino, but I
am determined she shall look the prettiest of them all.’ So I began
to work after school, doing all kinds of little jobs for anybody who
would hire me, and I never spent anything for candy or marbles, you
know, so that all the boys began to call me ‘miser.’ But I didn’t mind
that, because I thought my pleasure was coming by and by. The
money came very slowly, Madge, and often I thought I’d never have
enough. But when Aunt gave me money to buy mittens, I just went
without and kept my hands in my pockets. Then I got considerable
presents at Christmas, you know, and I sold the top that Lutie gave
me, and altogether, yesterday I found I had just enough to buy what I
wanted. So Mr. Green, who is always kind to me, excused me from
my lessons this morning, and I walked all the way to town, because
I thought I could get nicer things there—and Madge, I bought you
the sweetest green silk! It made you think of the woods in spring,
and I thought when you had it on, with your sweet, white face, you
would look just like a lily coming out of a bed of moss.”
“Dear Jamie!” cried Madge. “Did you do all that for me? I’m
so sorry! You know I never care what I wear.”
“Yes, I know it,” said Jamie, “and you’re always lovely to me. I
suppose it is because, as Mr. Green says, you always wear the jewels
which are of great price in the sight of God. I haven’t a doubt,

Page -167-
Madge, that the angels think you’re the prettiest girl in the world;
but some way—I know it’s foolish—I wanted to have the boys think
so too.
“Well, when I came back, just as I got to the hall door with my
bundle, feeling so proud that I had earned it all myself, out came
Uncle, looking very red, and storming about some money—about
twenty dollars, I think—that he said he had left in his desk, and
forgotten to lock up last night. Nobody knew anything about it,
and I was just going on tiptoes up to my room, when he called very
suddenly, ‘What have you got in that bundle, sir?’ ‘A dress for
Madge.’ ‘A dress for Madge?’ said he, louder yet. ‘Let me see it.’
So I opened it, trying to tell him that I earned the money all myself;
but as soon as he saw the pretty silk, he caught hold of my arm so
that I almost screamed, and said, ‘You earned money to buy such a
dress as that? You are telling me a falsehood! Confess now that you
took my money.’ Then out came Aunt Gould, and Belle, and Lutie,
and they held up their hands, and looked so shocked, and wouldn’t
believe one word I said. Then Uncle seemed to try to be kind, and
told me that if I confessed, and asked his pardon, he would try to
forgive it. But I could not tell a lie, and only said, over and over,
that I didn’t, couldn’t do such a thing, until he called me a hardened,
obstinate boy, and ordered me up to my room. And as for the dress,
Madge, that I’ve been thinking about more than six months,” Jamie
coughed violently, “I heard Aunt Gould say ‘it wouldn’t be quite a
loss, for with a yard or two more it would make a dress for Lutie.’ ”
Madge tried to comfort him, but broke down.
“Never mind,” said he at last, patting her tear-stained cheek. “I
am determined you shall have something nice, after all. Tomorrow
is the skating match, you know, and I think I’m sure of the second
prize at least, and whatever I get shall be given to darling Madge.”
“You will be sure to get it,” cried Madge, with eager sympathy.
“You’ve skated ever since you could walk.” And she remembered

Page -168-
with a glow of pride that no one had ever yet caught Jamie in a race;
and often, when you thought him only playing, he’d be writing his
name, with this rather clumsy steel pen, on the great white page of
ice, as handsomely as on a leaf of his writing book.
“Yes, you’ll be sure of the prize, Jamie,” she said, exultingly,
“and I know it will all come right with Uncle too. I’m going to tell
him all about it now.”
But, to her grief, Uncle Gould was so perturbed that he would
not hear a word. “No, child,” he said, “no one could make me
believe that a boy would go without marbles and candies half a year
to procure a dress for his sister. And if he did, he never could have
saved enough for such a handsome silk. Besides, what settles the
matter is that Betty saw him in the library at my desk very early this
morning, before anyone was up. It seems a very clear case, though
it grieves me to say so.”
After a sleepless night, the next morning Jamie stole down the
stairs with his skates, only to find his uncle in the hall.
“You cannot skate today, James,” said he, almost kindly, as he
looked at the boy’s flushed, worn face. “I feel it but right that you
should have some punishment for such a great fault.”
“But I did not do it, sir,” said Jamie, imploringly.
Uncle Gould grew quite stern. “Remember that Betty saw
you, my child. Either confess and ask pardon, or go back to your
room.”
“Yes, Jamie,” said Aunt Gould, appearing from the parlor, “you
love Madge dearly, and no doubt the temptation was very great. We
have been talking it over, and we wish to be as kind as your own
father and mother. Confess your fault, and, as it is the first time, we
are all ready to forgive you, and trust you once more. And indeed,
since it would make you so very happy, I will even promise to give
the dress to Madge.”
“Don’t be a prig, Jim,” whispered Lutie. “Just say you did it,

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and have it done with.”
What a terrible struggle went on in poor Jamie’s breast. If he
told a lie, there was love and forgiveness, the skating prize and the
pretty dress; if he told the truth, nothing but coldness and contempt,
and solitude in his dreary room. What a struggle! The hot passions
raged, and the terrible fire burned though his cheeks and eyes. He
hesitated. Ah! Was he going to love the praise of man more than the
praise of God? A moment more of silence, and he said firmly—
“I did not do it, Uncle. I cannot tell a lie.”
Poor Jamie spent the day in his room, attended by Madge, his
devoted supporter. They heard Belle and Lutie going away merrily
with their skates, but, strange to say, they did not feel so very
miserable, and even smiled as their eyes met.
“Isn’t it odd I can be so happy?” said Jamie. “If it wasn’t for this
headache, I should feel light as a feather.”
“Do you remember that verse that Mother used to say?” asked
Madge. “ ‘Behold, we count them happy which endure.’ I believe
I understand it better now, Jamie; and what is the rest of it, ‘Ye have
seen the end of the Lord, that the Lord is very pitiful and of tender
mercy.’ I am so glad you endured it all, Jamie, and who knows what
the end will be? I am quite certain it will all come right at last.”
Jamie tried to smile hopefully, and whenever a vivid remembrance
of his heavy disappointments came over him, he repeated softly to
himself, “Very pitiful, and of tender mercy.”

It is a week after, and the night of Lutie’s birthday. Madge—can

it be possible?—is standing by the piano in that identical green silk,
though, with that happy flush on her cheeks, she looks more like a
moss rose than a lily. And Jamie—was there ever such a radiant
face? What can have happened? But here is Madge, eager to tell
you how Aunt Gould found the missing roll of bills caught behind
the little drawer, and how Uncle Gould had actually asked Jamie’s

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pardon, and since had treated him almost as respectfully as if he
had been a grown man, and everybody was so kind, and she was so
proud! Oh! she couldn’t begin to tell all she felt!
But who can express Jamie’s happiness? Happiness not only
that he is again respected and loved—that Madge is acknowledged
sweeter than any other boy’s sister—that Uncle Gould has already
shaken hands with him twice that very evening; but there is a
deeper joy, the sweet peace, the consciousness of victory over great
temptation. And this it is which makes Madge turn from the merry,
sparkling faces to the sweeter light in Jamie’s great earnest eyes, and
whisper softly, “Behold, we count them happy which endure.”

“Teach me thy way, O LORD; I will walk in thy truth: unite my heart to
fear thy name.” —Psalm 86:11

Questions
1. Why do you think that Madge did not believe that Jamie had
stolen the money?
2. Do you think Madge was not pretty because she had an old dress,
and do you think the boys would have thought she was prettier if
she had a new dress? If some of them did, why do you think that
might be?
3. If Jamie already thought his sister was beautiful, what was
Jamie’s motivation for wanting to buy his sister a new dress?
4. When Jamie’s uncle asked him to confess, do you think he should
have? Why or why not?
5. Why do you think Jamie felt happy when he was in his room,
even though he did not get to go skating?
6. What do you think of Uncle Gould’s response to the revelation
that Jamie was innocent?
7. What can we learn from the example of Uncle Gould at the end
of the story?

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What Do You Think?
8. Jamie did not have ill feelings toward his uncle even when he
was wronged by him. How do you react to people when they
treat you unfairly? How should you react?

Vocabulary
calico you only had that pink calico
ceremony she burst in without any ceremony
coldly her cousin looked up coldly
corridor at the farther end of the third story corridor
devoted attended by Madge, his devoted supporter
dismal except the dismal dashing of sleet
exited exited the room
exultingly she said, exultingly
faltered faltered Jamie, trying to smile
frowned Uncle Gould frowned ominously over his paper
identical piano in that identical green silk
imploringly said Jamie, imploringly
indecision after a few moments of indecision
jets yellow jets of gas light
leaf as on a leaf of his writing book
merino in some ugly brown merino
ominously Uncle Gould frowned ominously over his paper
perturbed Uncle Gould was so perturbed
prig don’t be a prig
solitude nothing but coldness and contempt, and solitude
sternly Aunt Gould just said, very sternly
supporter attended by Madge, his devoted supporter
unite unite my heart to fear thy name
vehemently “Never!” cried Madge, vehemently

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 Lesson XXVIII
Walking in Love

There could not have been a more beautiful day. To be sure,

there had been a few clouds early in the morning, but, as Nelly
Warren declared, there was only enough water in them for the sun
to wash her face, and give her little flowers each a drink. And now
everything was so bright and beautiful, and every little drop dancing
on the blades of grass was shaking and twinkling, and she was so
glad that it was only a “play rain,” not enough to spoil the day.
You must know it was a holiday in the little village and all the
scholars were going to take their dinners and spend the happy day in
the woods.
It was a very pleasant sight when the children started in company
from the Academy gate. There were such sunny smiles playing
“hide and seek” in the merry dimples—such bright eyes—blue,
black, and gray—such nimble, dancing feet, and oh! such a clatter,
it would have utterly discouraged a full convention of magpies and
mockingbirds, if they had been within hearing distance.
Bob Patterson would walk with Belle Hamilton, who was
considered to be the prettiest girl in the class, and very politely
carried her basket with nice sandwiches and cake packed cosily
within. Charley Graham was looking for Nelly Warren, who was
such a good girl that her school friends would have been quite
offended with any one who did not think her beautiful because
of her goodness and sweet spirit. Her face was quite sunburned
and freckled, and her eyes were certainly gray, but she had a kind

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and loving heart, was always ready to do anything to make others
happy—in short, the whole secret of Nelly’s beauty was that she
tried to “walk in love.”
“Come, Nelly,” cried Charley, “let me have your basket, and I’ll
hold your little brother’s hand too. Come, they will get ahead of
us!”
“Charley,” whispered Nelly, “no one will walk with poor Phil
Barton.”
“Well, I don’t want to,” said Susy Gifford, pouting. “He walks
so slowly, and is so awkward, and then he isn’t full of fun like the
rest of us.”
“I don’t see why he wanted to come,” said Fanny Smythe with
her usual uppity spirit. “If I were such as he, I’d go and live in the
barn, and never show myself in daylight.”
“Oh, Fanny,” gasped Nelly, “how could you say such an awful
thing? I’m almost sure he heard you.” And she looked piteously after

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a small handicapped boy, who limped slowly away from the group.
Fanny blushed and looked a little uneasy, and turned away, arm-
in-arm with Susy.
“Now, do come, Nelly,” said Charley. “Never mind Phil—he’s
used to walking alone.”
“Oh,” said Nelly, almost crying, “he’s been talking of this walk
all the week, and he thought he was going to be so happy. Now,
I’m afraid he won’t enjoy it at all. I believe I must walk with him,
Charley,” she said, half pleadingly.
“Well, Nelly Warren, you’re a perfect goose!” cried Charley,
angrily, “and always do the strangest, most provoking things in the
world!” And he, too, turned quickly away, and hastened after the
rest.
What a change a few angry words can make. Nelly thought, for
a moment, that it was growing dark and was going to rain, but it was
only a little mistiness in her own eyes; and hastily passing the back
of her little brown hand across them, she ran to Phil.
The poor boy was standing quite alone, with a most pitiful look
of patient sadness in his great brown eyes.
“Will you walk with me, Phil?” asked Nelly, in her most cheerful
tone.
The boy started, and said, with a sad but grateful smile, “No,
Nelly, thank you just the same, but I think I won’t go. I don’t feel
quite well.”
The tears overflowed Nelly’s eyes as she took his poor, thin hand.
“I know all about it, Phil. You must not mind what the girls said.
They did not mean it—they didn’t think—that’s all. Now don’t be
angry, Phil.”
“I am not angry,” said the boy, very quietly, “but I suppose I
must be a perfect fright; and I’ll spoil all the fun for the rest.”
“Not at all,” cried Nelly, emphatically. “Why, Phil, you have
a very pleasant face. You know all the boys and girls like you just

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as soon as they really know you; but sometimes you’re proud just
a little and turn away from them, and that provokes them, and hurts
their feelings, so they won’t try and go with you any more. Don’t
you know it, Phil?”
“Perhaps it is so,” said Phil, very humbly; “but I always think
they’re kind, because they’re so sorry for me, and all the time they
are longing to be somewhere else. Oh! Nelly, you don’t know how
hard—” Phil made an heroic effort to stifle some tears.
Nelly tried to say something, but could only cry too, and it was
just the best thing that she could do. There is no sympathy so sweet
and consoling as just to “weep with those that weep.” So, after
the little episode was over, Phil felt much better, and was easily
persuaded to go on with Nelly. Indeed, the whole aspect of things
seemed changed, for any way seems pleasant if we are only “walking
in love.”
The party, who were some distance in advance, waited at the
entrance of the woods for Nelly and her friend. “Isn’t she a curious
girl?” said Susy Gifford. “I wouldn’t be so odd for all the world,” said
Fanny Smythe. “She is just the best girl in the Academy,” said Charley
Graham, who began to be thoroughly sorry for his rude speech.
“Yes, that she is,” echoed Belle Hamilton, with an affectionate
generosity.
Now they all went into the cool, green woods, fragrant with wild
flowers and the odorous pine trees. As they lightly stepped along
with singing and laughter, Phil quietly gathered the sweetest and
freshest blossoms, and made them into a wreath for Nelly. But she
noticed that, in the little bouquet that he carried in his own hand,
although the flowers were beautiful, every stem was crooked, and a
great many had strange, misshapen leaves.
“Why do you pick flowers with such crooked stems and leaves?”
asked Nelly.
“They are like me,” replied poor, patient Phil, with a smile that

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brought tears again to the eyes of Nelly.
“Don’t feel badly, Nelly,” he added, quickly. “I just like such
flowers. I like to look at them, and think that, perhaps, if I try very
hard, I may have a beautiful soul, which will some time come out,
and make me pleasant and lovely, just like these sweet flowers on
their crooked stems. All of these kinds of plants, Nelly, always make
me think of very homely persons who have beautiful thoughts.”
Nelly looked sympathizing, and was glad Phil was pleased,
though she did not exactly understand the odd fancies of the boy,
who had never known what it was to be careless and happy, and who
was thoughtful far beyond his years.
The rest of the morning passed very happily. The boys and girls
were very good-natured after all, and, following Nelly’s example,
were all so kind to Phil, that it was by far the happiest day he had
known in weeks.
And Phil himself was never more anxious to please. He knew
just where the prettiest flowers grew, and gathered them for the girls.
He made little bridges across the damp places, that they might not
wet their feet, and was ready to carry all shawls and baskets that
were imposed on his good nature. In fact, since Nelly had told him
he was apt to be cold and proud, he had been trying to overcome it;
and to judge from the kind looks and pleasant words showered upon
him, he was already reaping his reward.
Only once, as they were looking for a pleasant encampment
where they might eat dinner, Belle Hamilton exclaimed, “Who gave
Phil so much to carry? That is way too much of a load for him.”
“Oh,” said Fanny Smythe, in a whisper, which was a little too
loud, “that’s all he’s good for.” And the proud, thoughtless girl
glanced at the hump on poor Phil’s back.
“Oh, Fanny!” exclaimed Nelly, as she looked at the changing
color in Phil’s face, and saw how his lip trembled when he bravely
attempted his old patient smile. Fanny was really much abashed

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for a few minutes, and then Phil was taken into extra favor by the
rest of the kind-hearted company. I should make my story too
long if I should tell you all that was done throughout that happy
day—the merry games that were played—the wonderful stories that
were told—the pretty bowers that were made—and the sweet, wild
strawberries that were picked for tea. Nor have I time to tell you
of all the kind acts and words of the boys and girls who, like Nelly,
were trying to “walk in love.” There is only one thing more which
you may like to hear about Phil.
When they were on the way home, a very merry but very tired
party, Fanny Smythe suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, I have lost my coral
pin that my aunt gave me on my birthday. What shall I do?” she
asked anxiously.
All the boys and girls gathered around, full of sympathy. But
they were all so tired, and it was so late, no one offered to go back.
Even Nelly looked wistfully at the village roofs, just visible through
the trees, and could not find courage to volunteer for the search.
“I’ll tell you what, Fanny,” said Charley Graham. “I’ll get up
very early tomorrow morning, and look all over wherever we’ve
been. I’m sure I’ll find it, for no one goes in the woods but just us
boys and girls, and I’ll have it for you tomorrow, by schooltime.”
“Oh! I’m sure it won’t be found,” sobbed Fannie, “or it will be
all broken in pieces. I shan’t sleep a wink tonight.”
“Well,” said Bob Patterson, “it is getting so dark in the woods
now, we certainly could not find it; but if you’ll only wait until
tomorrow, I’ll go up with Charley.”
“And I, and I,” said one or two other voices.
There was no other way, and Fanny, with some very ungracious
words about disobliging people, sadly went homeward, making
everyone around her miserable.
No one noticed that Phil was missing from the group, but as
they slowly entered the village street, Fanny still loudly lamenting,

Page -178-
an eager voice was heard, shouting, “Fanny! Fanny!” And looking
around, poor Phil was discovered, limping as fast as he could,
holding up the lost pin.
“Why, Phil Barton,” cried a chorus of voices, “did you go back?
Where did you find it?”
“By the brook,” panted Phil.
“Way back to the brook!” cried they in sympathizing surprise,
while Fanny blushed crimson.
“Poor, dear Phil!” said Nelly, softly; and she thought of the
lovely flowers on the crooked stems.
“Phil, you’re splendid!” cried Charley Graham, impulsively.
“Let’s be friends.” Then he shook hands warmly with the pale, tired
boy, and insisted on walking home with him.
But first Fanny must speak with him; and, from her painful
blushes and his embarrassment, they knew she was asking his
forgiveness.
None of the boys and the girls forgot the lesson of that day, nor
how very sweet it was “to walk in love.” Especially had each one
a new liking for Phil; and the next Sabbath, as in the chapter for the
day were read the sweet words of the coming of Christ—“who shall
change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious
body”—many a glance of tenderness was directed to the pew where
Phil sat. His hands were clasped tightly together, his large eyes were
dreaming of something far away, and on his pale lips rested such a
sweet, peaceful smile, that Nelly knew the flower was blossoming,
and that when Phil had a little longer “walked in love,” God would
make him beautiful forever.

“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall
be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of
the dumb sing: for in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in
the desert.” —Isaiah 35:5-6

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Questions
1. Read the first three paragraphs of the story and visualize the
picture the author is painting with words. Describe what you
see in your mind in your own words.
2. In the story, the children wanted to walk with whom they thought
was pretty or was similar to them. Explain why or why not you
think this is a good way to decide to enjoy someone’s company.
3. Describe how you think Phil felt after Fanny made the comment
“If I were such as he, I would go live in the barn.”
4. Why do you think Charley became impatient with Nelly for
wanting to walk with Phil?
5. How and why did Phil sometimes unknowingly encourage the
other children to be unkind to him?
6. When Phil overcame his fault of being somewhat standoffish,
and also returned a kindness for a person who had been critical
of him, what effect did it have on those around him?

What Do You Think?

7. Think about your friends and other children you know. Are you
unkind to them as Fanny was? Do you treat everyone with the
same respect and love? Give some personal examples from your
life.

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Vocabulary
abashed Fanny was really much abashed
apt he was apt to be cold and proud
aspect the whole aspect of things
awkward and is so awkward
bowers the pretty bowers that were made
consoling so sweet and consoling as just to “weep with
those that weep”
convention a full convention of magpies and mockingbirds
coral I have lost my coral pin
cosily sandwiches and cake packed cosily within
encampment looking for a pleasant encampment
imposed that were imposed on his good nature
lamenting Fanny still loudly lamenting
magpies a full convention of magpies and mockingbirds
misshapen had strange, misshapen leaves
disobliging very ungracious words about disobliging people
odorous the odorous pine trees
episode after the little episode was over
piteously she looked piteously
utterly it would have utterly discouraged
vile change our vile body
wistfully even Nelly looked wistfully

Page -181-
 Lesson XXIX
Missionary Jam

Maggie’s mother was sick, and the doctor had ordered perfect
quiet, with freedom from worries. So Maggie had taken the helm
when it dropped from the tired hand. The absorbing work was the
manufacture of strawberry jam, and any young housekeeper knows
what an undertaking that is. It was her first undertaking of the sort,
and Maggie was quite nervous about it.
The boys had taken their younger sister with them to the pond,
so that Maggie was spared the numerous questions and inquisitive
fingers of the four-year-old Cora.
Just at the moment when a few little bubbles were rising to
the surface, a loud scream came from the pond, followed by the
ominous pause which was, with Cora, but the precursor of a still
louder outbreak. Down went the spoon and off Maggie started.
The accident was more laughable than serious. On the pond
was a raft, and in spite of the entreaties of her brothers, Cora had
determined to go on the raft. The result was not uncommon in raft
navigation: the vessel had gently dipped down and landed the small
sailor in the water.
The boys had pulled her out, and she stood upon the bank, a pitiful
sight, her blue dress dripping water, her shoes and socks plastered
with mud, little streams trickling down her face into her mouth
every time she opened it for a vigorous scream. Seeing Maggie,
and thinking to avert a well-deserved reproof, she ran toward her
weeping bitterly, and cast herself into her sister’s arms.

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 “Bad boat! Bad boys!” she exclaimed.
“Bad Cora, I think it is,” Maggie said. “I am so afraid you have
waked Mother.” But the small offender must be carried into the
house for dry clothing, and when at last this was accomplished
Maggie suddenly became aware of a pungent, penetrating smell of
something burning, and remembered the jam.
“Oh, Cora, Cora, I am afraid my jam is ruined,” and she hurried
into the kitchen. The room was full of smoke and the kettle was
on the table, while by it stood a strange gentleman with a kind face
wearing a quizzical smile, his horse stamping on the path outside.
“So this is the way you make jam, is it?” he asked.
“I came for a glass of water, and thought your house was on fire.
I took the liberty of removing your kettle, but if the jam is not done
you can cook it some more.”
Maggie looked into the kettle, and uttered an exclamation of dismay
at the solid black mass. All her work and time had gone into smoke.
Tears came into her eyes; it was such a disappointment; and
impatient words were on her lips as Cora came smiling into the
room, but she kept them back and went quietly out to get the water.
The gentleman had seen the little struggle and the conquest, and his
eyes followed her with much interest.
Cora, too, peeped into the kettle, getting on a chair to accomplish
it. “Dat’s missionary jam,” she condescendingly explained.
“I am afraid the missionaries won’t like it very much,” he
answered.
“Cora likes jam,” she said as she ran her finger along the edge of
the kettle and smiled engagingly.
Just at this point the boys came trooping in, and loud exclamations
of disgust followed. “It was all your fault, Cora.”
“You’ve spoilt all sister’s missionary jam. If you had not
disobeyed us, it never would have happened.”
“You have taken the money from sister. You are as bad as a robber.”

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 Cora, bewildered under the reproaches heaped upon her, once
more flew to Maggie for refuge.
“Did I burn your jam? Did I steal your money? Am I a robber?”
she wailed.
“Boys, boys,” Maggie entreated, “let her alone. Don’t cry, Cora.
Sister will forgive you, and won’t you remember next time to be a
very obedient little girl? Mother is sick, sir,” she explained, “and the
children miss her. I am afraid I make a poor mother to them. Cora
fell in the pond, and while I was dressing her the jam burned.”

Page -184-
 “Why do you call it missionary jam?” the gentleman inquired
with interest.
Maggie laughed. “That’s the name the children gave it because
the money from the sale was for my missionary box.”
“And its loss is a great disappointment?” he asked looking at her
keenly.
“Yes, it is,” with a little tremble in her voice, “but never mind,
perhaps something may come in its place.”
“It has a curious flavor,” he said, tasting some on the end of the
spoon.
“That’s the burnt sugar.”
“Not altogether, but I am very fond of curious flavors, and shall
try to find out the component parts of this. Did you know there was
an old woman once who made her fortune from burning some taffy?
People liked the flavor without knowing why.”
“I am afraid they would not care for burnt strawberries, though.”
“Do not think me too curious, but how much did you expect to
receive for your jam?”
“About three dollars. It does not seem a very great sum, but
farmer’s families are not very rich, sir.”
“Well, I must be off. Thank you very much for the water. It
seems to me you need not feel afraid of not doing your duty by these
children. My child,” taking her hand tenderly in his, “I see you have
already learned a lesson it took me years to learn: ‘He that is slow to
anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he
that taketh a city.’ ” Then the gentleman mounted his horse and rode
thoughtfully away.
Late in the afternoon, as Maggie sat watching for her father, and
trying to forget her disappointment, two little arms were clasped
about her neck and a soft cheek was laid against hers, while Cora
said, lovingly, “Good Maggie, Cora loves you. When I’m a big girl
I’ll buy you a whole missionary all for yourself.”

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 Maggie laughed heartily at this promise, then ran down the path
to meet her father at the gate, and slipped her arm in his as they
walked back together.
“I met such an interesting gentleman on horseback this morning,
Maggie, who soon found out that I was your father, and told me
about your jam burning. He said many kind things, and told me to
give you this note.”
In the large kitchen, the scene of the morning catastrophe,
surrounded by a curious family group, Maggie read: “I have
discovered the component parts of the flavor of your missionary
jam. They are patience, love, zeal; no wonder I liked it. Permit one
to make a contribution to your box who has been most remiss in the
matter of helping missionaries.”
The contribution was a clean, crisp bill for five dollars. So, amid
triumphant shouts and congratulations, Maggie dropped the money
into her box, and that night sang a thankful little song, as she scraped
from the kettle the last traces of the “missionary jam.”

“But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these
things shall be added unto you.” —Matthew 6:33

Questions
1. What was Maggie’s attitude toward taking over the housekeeping
duties?
2. Do you think it was partly the boys’ fault that Cora fell in the
water? How could they have handled the situation differently?
3. How could the boys have acted differently when they came in
the house and discovered the burnt jam?
4. Do you think the stranger who came to get a drink of water was
observant? Why?
5. Do you think the stranger planned to give the money for Maggie
to her father when he left the house? Why?
6. Why do you think the stranger gave the five dollars to Maggie?

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What Do You Think?
7. Maggie showed patience and love in this story. She pitched in
to help her mother out and care for the children. She also was
kind and tolerant of Cora when the jam burned, and she also
was patient with her brothers when they were being unkind.
Thinking of your own life, are you following Cora’s example?
Explain your answer.

Vocabulary
absorbing the absorbing work
bewildered bewildered under the reproaches
catastrophe the scene of the morning catastrophe
component discovered the component parts of the flavor
condescendingly she condescendingly explained
conquest had seen the little struggle and the conquest
dismay uttered an exclamation of dismay
entreaties in spite of the entreaties of her brothers
helm Maggie had taken the helm
manufacture was the manufacture of strawberry jam
navigation not uncommon in raft navigation
numerous was spared the numerous questions
penetrating penetrating smell of something burning
plastered her shoes and socks plastered with mud
precursor but the precursor of a still louder outbreak
pungent aware of a pungent, penetrating smell
quizzical with a kind face wearing a quizzical smile
remiss who has been most remiss in the matter
trickling little streams trickling down her face
trooping the boys came trooping in
undertaking it was her first undertaking

Page -187-
 Lesson XXX
The Open Door

Within a hamlet of Holland once

A widow dwelt, ’tis said,
So poor, alas! Her children asked
One night in vain for bread.
But this poor woman loved the Lord,
And knew that He was good;
So, with her little ones around,
She prayed to Him for food.

When prayer was done, the eldest child,

A boy of eight years old,
Said, softly, “In the Holy Book,
Dear Mother, we are told
How God, with food by ravens brought,
Furnished His prophet’s need.”
“Yes,” answered she, “but that, my son,
Was long ago, indeed.”

“But, Mother, God may do again

What He has done before;
And so, to let the birds fly in,
I will unloose the door.”
Then little Dirk, in simple faith,
Opened the door full wide,
So that the radiance of their lamp
Fell on the path outside.

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 Ere long the burgomaster passed,
And noticing the light,
Paused to inquire why the door
Was opened so at night.
“My little Dirk has done it, sir,”
The widow, smiling, said,
“That ravens might fly in and bring
My hungry children bread.”

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 “Indeed!” the burgomaster cried.
“Then here’s a raven, lad.
Come to my home, and you shall see
Where bread may soon be had.”
Along the street to his own house
He conducted the boy,
And sent him back with a fare that filled
His humble home with joy.

The banquet ended, little Dirk

Went to the open door,
Looked up and said, “Many thanks, good Lord,”
Then shut it fast once more.
For though no bird had entered in,
He knew that God on high
Had hearkened to his mother’s prayer,
And sent this full supply.

“But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by
Christ Jesus.” —Philippians 4:19

Questions
1. What was the poem saying when it says that the children asked
for bread in vain?
2. Describe the mother’s reaction to her son thinking that the Lord
would answer their prayer by sending ravens with food.
3. Was God capable of answering the family’s prayer by sending
ravens with bread? Explain why or why not.
4. Why did the burgomaster call himself a raven?

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What Do You Think?
5. At the end of the story, Dirk knew that God had answered his
prayer. How do you think the story would have turned out if
the boy had told the burgomaster that he did not want to go to
his house because he was waiting for God to send ravens with
bread?
6. The poem began with the family praying to God for food, and
the poem ended with Dirk thanking God in prayer. Do have
a relationship with God where you are praying throughout the
day? List some things about which you can pray, and talk to
God about them.

Vocabulary
alas so poor, alas
banquet the banquet ended
burgomaster ere long the burgomaster passed
conducted he conducted the boy
dwelt A widow dwelt, ’tis said
eldest the eldest child
fare with a fare that filled
fast then shut it fast once more
furnished furnished His prophet’s need
hamlet within a hamlet of Holland
Holland within a hamlet of Holland
radiance so that the radiance of their lamp
unloose I will unloose the door
vain one night in vain for bread

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 Lesson XXXI
Sounding Brass

It was a bright winter morning not far from the holidays, and
young Dick Melville was busily collecting his dinner basket and
books preparatory to setting out for school, when his older sister
asked, “Did you learn any verses this morning, Dick?”
“Of course I did, and said them to Mother too. It was— Oh,
where is my geography! I do believe baby has hid it somewhere.
Well, it began— Oh, Bridget! Please put in one more slice of bread
and butter.”
“That’s the strangest verse I ever heard,” said Sam, who rather
liked to tease his younger brother.
“Now, really, Sam, I was just going to say it. It was, ‘Though I
speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity,
I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.’ Mother said
charity means love, and feeling kindly toward everybody; but if
we’re cross and hateful, then we’re like ‘sounding brass,’ which—”
“Hear me,” interrupted curly-headed little Madge. “I learned
one too: ‘Charity suffereth long, and is kind.’ ”
“That’s a nice verse for a kind little Madge,” said Sam, lifting
her on his knee.
“Dear me,” again broke in Dick, “where can my skates be? Fred
Allen said the pond was frozen over, and we’d have a great time
over there after school.”
“Why, Dick, Frank Burton came here last night and told me you
said he might take them,” declared Nelly.

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 “Now, Nelly, that’s too bad! He told you a downright falsehood.
He has lost his own skates, and he told me yesterday he was afraid
he shouldn’t get another pair until Christmas; but he never said a
word about mine, for he knew I wanted to use them myself.”
“That’s very strange,” said Nelly.
“Strange! It’s downright mean,” cried Dick vehemently, “and I
will say that Frank Burton is the slyest, most selfish boy in school;
and I don’t believe he’d mind telling a lie any more than—”
“Hush a minute,” cried Sam, with a merry twinkle in his eye. “I
shouldn’t think the band would be out so early in the morning, but
I’m sure I hear plenty of ‘sounding brass’ somewhere.”
Little Madge eagerly listened, with her curly head tilted to one
side; but Dick, coloring angrily, retorted, “I know what you mean,
Sam; but if you’d just look at home, I think you’d would find enough
‘tinkling cymbals’ to match my brass.”
“Dear little Dick,” began gentle sister Nelly.
“Yes, I know it, Nelly. I know I was wrong; but if you were a
boy, and loved to skate as I do, and then had everything go wrong,
you’d just forget all about charity, and wouldn’t care a bit if you
were just turned into sounding brass.”
“Well, I didn’t know you were in such a sad state of mind,” said
Sam, laughing. “You may take my skates if you’d like them.”
“ Oh dear, no; thank you just the same, but they’re a great deal
too large,” and Dick, with a very heavy step, started for school.
To his great disappointment, Frank Burton was not in his usual
place, nor did he make his appearance all day, and poor Dick could
hear nothing of his skates. But when school hours were at last over,
he joined the merry party for the pond, and as he reached the ice,
sure enough, there was Frank Burton with Dick’s own nice skates
just buckled on!
“Those are mine,” shouted Dick, “and I want to use them
myself.”

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 “You can have them if you’ll catch me,” mockingly retorted
Frank, gliding by him like an arrow.
Dick bit his lips, and, thrusting his hands in his pockets, waited
until he came around again.
“Frank, you may go round the pond three times with my skates,
if you’ll give them to me then.”
Frank laughed loudly. “Very generous when you can’t help
yourself; I’ll go around as many times as I please. It’s great fun,”
and off he shot again.
Several of the smaller boys who stood near were very sorry for
Dick, but Frank was so large and strong they did not dare thwart him.
Poor Dick stood for nearly an hour gazing on the animated scene,
growing very cold, and struggling against the bitter thoughts that
filled his heart. The boys were so full of fun, and he did so love to
skate! At last, Frank came around once more, flushed with exertion,
and screamed: “Dicky, would you like to take a turn on my skates?”
Poor Dick said to himself, “Well, I’m sure I’ve suffered long
enough—but I must say I don’t feel very kind. That verse may do
very well for girls, but boys—”
Just then came a crash and a shout—
“The ice has broken! Frank Burton has gone in! Will he drown?
Oh, the water is too shallow. No, it’s deep right in the middle. There,
he’s holding on. Can’t any one help him? How the ice breaks! We
can’t get near him.”
“Let me try,” said Dick.
“No, he won’t drown; and he’s so ugly, let him have a good
fright. He’ll pull you in too, Dicky,” urged the smaller boys.
“Help, boys,” cried Frank. “I’m so cold I can’t hold on much
longer, and if I stir, the ice cracks.”
“Run for Farmer Jones,” said one; and a dozen boys started.
“Oh, I’ll die before they get back,” groaned Frank.
Just then Dick recollected something he had read, and, running

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across the pond, he pried with all his strength a long board from the
nearest fence. Then, hastening back, he laid it carefully across the
hole so that Frank could reach it. Then, lying prostrate on the ice, he
slowly crawled up near enough to help the benumbed, desperate boy
upon the board, and with great caution, drew him farther and farther

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until he was once more upon strong, safe ice.
“Three cheers for Dick Melville,” shouted the little boys, as the
others returned with Dick’s father, whom they met on the road.
As the story was eagerly told, it was hard to tell who blushed
the most—poor chattering Frank Burton, or happy, brave Dick. But
Frank, as soon as he could speak, made an apology to Dick before
all the boys and then, in a lower tone, said: “I shall never forget this,
Dick. I am sorry, and I hope I shall be a better boy.”
You might visualize the happy look on Dick’s face when his
father related the incident at home. Sam walked up to him in a grand
way and said, “I am proud to shake hands with you, Brother Dick;
and I think I must have been mistaken about that ‘sounding brass’
this morning.”
But the best of it was when his mother whispered, “You have made
me very happy, my son; but, above all, I think you have pleased God.”

“And above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness.”
—Colossians 3:14

Questions
1. According to the definition of charity in the story, what do you
think Dick’s reaction should have been when he found out what
Frank Burton did?
2. Do you think if Dick had viewed his skates as not his own, but as
skates that Jesus allowed him to use and that he should let others
use, his reaction would have been different? Explain why.
3. Was it right for Frank Burton to have lied to get Dick’s skates?
Why?
4. Why do you think Dick went to the pond after school if he did
not have any skates with which to skate?
5. How did Dick show that he did have some charity, even if he had
struggled to show it?

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What Do You Think?
6. Do you think it was generous and nice of Dick to offer to allow
Frank to skate three times around the pond? Why?
7. What do you think would have been a better way to handle the
situation when Dick saw Frank skating rather than telling Frank
he could skate around the pond three times before giving his
skates back?
8. List a few examples in your life where you showed charity, and
also some examples where you were “as sounding brass.”

Vocabulary
animated gazing on the animated scene
benumbed to help the benumbed, desperate boy
brass as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal
caution with great caution
cymbal as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal
desperate to help the benumbed, desperate boy
downright it’s downright mean
exertion flushed with exertion
gazing gazing on the animated scene
grand in a grand way
mockingly mockingly retorted Frank
preparatory and books preparatory to setting out for school
pried he pried with all his strength
prostrate lying prostrate on the ice
recollected Dick recollected something he had read
related when his father related the incident
retorted mockingly retorted Frank
shallow the water is too shallow
sounding as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal
thwart they did not dare thwart him

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 Lesson XXXII
The Garden of the Beloved

“There, now you’ve done it,” cried John Cramer to his twin
brother Cornelius, as he arrived breathless at the garden gate. “You
weren’t a bit fair in that race, and you twice ran right over Phebe’s
flowerbed, and took the heads off her very best tulips. Oh! Won’t she
be mad? And here she comes this very minute to look at them!”
“That’s a fact,” said Cornelius, “and I may as well walk right up
and ‘face the music,’ and have it over with.” He went slowly up to
Phebe, who was bending in sorrowful surprise over her little tribe of
tulips that had been so remorselessly scalped.
“Yes, I did it,” said Cornelius, in dogged response to her look of
mute inquiry. “There now, how angry you are. You pretend to be
good, and you’re not a bit like that girl in the memoir of ‘Good Little
Jane.’ She would have said right away, ‘Oh, if anyone’s flowers are
spoiled, I hope they are mine,’ and she would have been so glad that
they were not her brother’s that she would have been happy as a
queen. But you are so selfish; I do believe you are going to cry. You
ought to have been called April—it’s just shower, shower, shower
all the time. Yes, here it comes,” said he, as two white clouds, with
heavy fringes, swept down over those little samples of blue sky,
commonly called Phebe’s eyes.
Phebe spent a moment trying to swallow something, which
from the effort might have been the whole range of the Alleghany
Mountains, and then, looking up with a smile like a rainbow,
said—

Page -198-
Page -199-
 “Well, I’m sure I didn’t mean to be selfish, and I am truly glad
they are not your flowers; but you know these disappointments come
on one sometimes just like a great cloud, and one can’t help a little
rain. Don’t you remember the little rhyme, ‘April showers bring
May flowers’? ” she added, good-naturedly.
“I don’t understand you,” said Cornelius. “It would be a funny
flower garden that would spring up under those showers. What do
you mean?”
“I’m afraid I can’t explain it very well,” said Phebe, “but Miss
Weston was telling me last Sunday that when any trouble came—big
or little—it made everything gloomy like the clouds on a rainy day;
but if we took the cloud patiently, and let the rain come down and
soften our hearts, after a while flowers would bud and bloom—fair
white flowers—and the Beloved would come down into His garden
to gather lilies.”
“What a terribly mixed-up speech that is,” said Cornelius,
scornfully. “I don’t believe you have the least idea what you are talking
about. Lilies and flowers in one’s heart! What do you mean?”
Phebe answered timidly, “I do not know that I ought to say it,
but now, after this cloud, which has been quite a big one to me,
I’m hoping—you know I didn’t get angry, Corny, or scold—so I’m
hoping that there is a little bud of patience in my heart. I won’t call
it a flower yet, but maybe it will be someday.”
“Phebe,” said Cornelius, emphatically, “now, don’t let me hear
any more such nonsense, or I’ll . . . I don’t know what I’ll do! Ah!
There it goes again. One, two—Oh, what big drops! Never mind,
perhaps patience will shove out a new leaf.”
Phebe turned to the house, her heart so full of bitter thoughts that
she couldn’t feel at all certain about that rare plant she had hoped
was beginning to bud. She had felt a very strong impulse to say
something nasty back to Cornelius, but in some way she had an odd
feeling that the words she would have said had fallen instead upon

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that small bud, and that if it ever came to anything, it would be a
rather scraggy flower.
Phebe took a turn or two in the garden, and gradually became
more composed. This was Saturday—her holiday—and it would
not do to waste it all in tears. She would go and get the beautiful
book Susan Brown had lent her, and have a splendid time, reading
all by herself. But as she hurried into the house, her oldest sister,
Caroline, called from the parlor—
“Here, Phebe, take this glove and sew up the rips just as quick as
you can. No, you may run upstairs first, and get my crimson shawl,
and my handkerchief, and then just run to the basement and get me
a glass of water before I go out. There—that’s a dear little girl! Oh!
did you bring my parasol? The sun is so hot! No? Oh, well, you’ll
find it in one of my drawers. It won’t take you a minute.”
Up went the patient feet, and back again.
“There,” cried sister Caroline, “how do I look?”
“Beautiful!” was the heartfelt response; and the pleased Caroline,
kissing her, said—
“Well, you are good, if you are a little slow about things,” and
she tripped carelessly from the room.
“If I am a little slow,” said Phebe to herself, sadly, and she stole
up to the mirror and looked in—little pale, thin face, topped with a
crown of flaming hair, just a little slow sister said.
“Another April shower,” cried Cornelius at the door, and poor
Phebe turned away very patient, very humble, and the flowers of
meekness and gentleness began to open their sweet leaves.
“Now I shall have a little time to read,” thought Phebe again
to herself, and she hurried up the stairs to forget her sorrows in the
wonderful book; but, alas! The nursery door opened just as she
reached the top of the steps.
“Miss Phebe,” cried nurse, carrying little sobbing Bobby, “would
you be so very kind as to amuse baby just five minutes? My head

Page -201-
aches too. I’m quite distracted, and if I could only lie down, and
bathe it with camphor—but Bobby is so fractious with his teeth, he
won’t be put down a moment.”
Phebe gave a long sigh. “No, Miggs,” she began, “I’m tired myself.”
Oh! How the tender buds of gentleness and love began to droop! And
a great weed of selfishness grew faster than a mushroom.
“Well, Miss,” said Miggs, kindly, “I suppose you are. You’re
everybody’s little slave, and that’s a fact! Never mind.”
“No,” cried Phebe, falteringly. “I didn’t mean that. I’ll take him
a little while. Come, Bobby,” and Bobby’s fretful mouth softened
into a smile as he sprang into the arms of his favorite sister.
It was afternoon, and again there seemed a little prospect of
peace. Caroline, Mother, nurse, and baby were out taking a drive,
and John and Cornelius, with their schoolmates, were holding a
political meeting in the barn.
Phebe settled herself with her book in the broad window seat, and
all her trials seemed to fade away; but when she had been reading
about ten minutes, and was just in the most exciting part of the story,
there came a timid knock at the door. She raised her head with a
frown, and there—she could just have cried from vexation—there
stood tedious old Mrs. Smith. Phebe felt very rebellious.
“Mother and Caroline are both out,” said she, very quickly.
“Never mind, my dear. I will sit awhile with you.”
“This is the biggest cloud yet,” said Phebe bitterly to herself.
“I thought I had had enough for one day. It is too bad! Too bad!”
But unconscious of that, old Mrs. Smith sat down, and looked as if
she had come to stay all the rest of the day. Then she began to tell
little Phebe about her last attack of rheumatism, and of the dreadful
coughing and wheezing she was taken with at night, how she had
frozen her feet last January, and how she had fallen and knocked out
one of her front teeth, and how brother John’s children—the whole
eight of them—had the measles—all when poor Phebe was just

Page -202-
dying to read whether Jack Ringtop ever found his way out of the
dark forest. Phebe was very rebellious at first, and I am afraid that if
the “Beloved” had then gone down into His garden, He would have
found no lilies. But, after a great struggle, she concluded to make
the best of this shower, and she answered Mrs. Smith so kindly,
and had so much sympathy for all her trials, that the old woman
was full of grateful surprise, and going away at last, she laid her
withered old hand upon Phebe’s head, and blessed her in the name
of the Lord. And though almost as soon as she was gone, crying
baby came home, and Caroline had a dozen errands for the willing
hands and feet, still Phebe felt wonderfully happy, and the buds of
“longsuffering” began to put forth in the showers, while patience
really burst into full flower.
It was now tea time, and Phebe was looking forward with some
apprehension to the coming of her ill-natured, teasing brother, when
John appeared, breathless, with a white face, and announced that
Cornelius had fallen from the hay loft, and hurt himself very much.
The news was indeed true. Cornelius had broken his leg, and was
carried to his room to be a prisoner for weeks. Forgiving Phebe
was his nurse from the first, and Cornelius, impatient and angry
with pain and confinement, exhausted his ingenuity in contriving
ways to make her trouble. He constantly called her to execute a
dozen different commands, reproaching her that she wasn’t more
unselfish—more like “Good little Jane.”
This was a long, cloudy time for Phebe, and more than an April
rain, but the flowers grew fast in the showers. Love, patience,
longsuffering, gentleness, and meekness were all there, and Phebe
was far from unhappy, for joy and peace are always found blossoming
in the same company.
Cornelius worried himself into a fever, and his life was despaired
of, but when, after a long struggle, his strong constitution conquered,
and he began slowly to improve, everyone could see that some

Page -203-
change had come over him. His eyes had a different look now as
they followed little Phebe’s swift, noiseless steps around his room—
such patient, tireless feet! such an uncomplaining, self-sacrificing
sister! How could he have been blind so long? And that red hair,
how he loved every golden thread! As she sat by the window at
sunset one day, with her little Bible opened before her, it seemed
like there was a saint’s halo around her sweet face.
“John,” whispered the repentant Cornelius, “I have made a long
April for our little sister, but oh! how the flowers have grown! I
see it all now; and do you know I have made a resolve that from this
time forth, I will do all I can to make life sunshine for her.”
Just then sister Caroline entered the room. “Hush,” said
Cornelius, putting his finger on his lip, and pointed to Phebe, who
still sat, her sweet face upturned, and her lovely eyes looking far
away into the rosy sky.
Caroline looked, and almost started, as the idea suddenly flashed
upon her that little Phebe was radiant, beautiful too!—far more
beautiful than she ever was.
“You never looked like that, Caroline,” said Cornelius, softly.
“What is it?” said she, almost fretfully—“Phebe!”
“Hush,” implored Cornelius, “don’t trouble her. I will tell you.
I understand it all now.” The tears rolled down his thin cheeks.
“Don’t disturb her for the world. Little Phebe has a beautiful heart,
and whenever she looks like that you may know the ‘Beloved has
gone down to His garden to gather lilies.’ ”

“My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in
the gardens, and to gather lilies.” —Song of Solomon 6:2

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness,
goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.”
—Galatians 5:22-23

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Questions
1. What does the garden represent in the story, and Whose garden
is it?
2. Describe Cornelius’ attitude and actions toward Phebe.
3. As you follow Phebe throughout the day, what recurring thing
must she do in every situation?

What Do You Think?

4. What do you think Phebe’s thoughts may have been when
Cornelius hurt himself and Phebe knew that she was going to
have to be his nurse?
5. At the end of the story, Cornelius saw Phebe in a new light and
purposed for his own behavior to change. Do you think this
would have been possible if he had not seen Phebe have such
personal victory in doing right and keeping a sweet spirit while
others were treating her unkindly?
6. Do you think Phebe would have been the same person at the end
of the story had she not gone through all of the April showers?
Why?
7. Could we conclude from the story, that not only was this injury
good for Cornelius, but that having to nurse him while he was in
such bad temper was also good for Phebe? Why?
8. Think for a few moments about someone who may be treating
you somewhat like Cornelius treated Phebe. How are you
responding? How should you be responding? How would God
want you to respond and treat that person?

Page -205-
Vocabulary
apprehension looking forward with some apprehension
camphor and bathe it with camphor
concluded she concluded to make the best of this shower
confinement impatient and angry with pain and confinement
constitution his strong constitution conquered
contriving his ingenuity in contriving ways to make
distracted I’m quite distracted
execute to execute a dozen different commands
fractious Bobby is so fractious with his teeth
fretful Bobby’s fretful mouth softened into a smile
ingenuity his ingenuity in contriving ways to make
mute to her look of mute inquiry
parasol did you bring my parasol
political holding a political meeting
prospect there seemed little prospect of peace
rebellious Phebe was very rebellious at first
resolve have made a resolve
scraggy it would be a rather scraggy flower
tulips over her little tribe of tulips
wheezing of the dreadful coughing and wheezing
window seat with her book in the broad window seat

Page -206-
 Lesson XXXIII
“In Honor Preferring One Another”

Lois Vanderberg, with her shawl over her head, had been
standing at the gate more than half an hour in the chill evening air,
looking vainly for her younger brother, Pierre, when suddenly the
boy loomed in the dense mist as if he had risen out of the earth.
“Ah, here you are,” cried Lois. “How slowly you must have
walked. Father has been waiting for an hour for his paper. But
come now, do hurry in out of the rain. We’ve got a magnificent
roaring fire for this inclement night, and we’re going to have hot
cakes for tea!”
But to this cheery notification Pierre only responded, “I’m sure I
don’t care if we are,” in such a dismal tone, that, as they entered the
bright kitchen, Lois turned upon him a look of great anxiety.
“I’m afraid you’re sick, Pierre,” said she, recognizing very
clearly that something was amiss.
“No, don’t trouble me; I’m only tired.”
Nevertheless, Lois noticed that when he hung away his damp
coat and scarf, he seated himself by the window as far as possible
from the bright, cheerful fire, and obscured his head behind the
curtain.
“Now, Pierre,” she whispered, following him, “you must tell me
what has happened.”
“Don’t ask me, Sister,” said Pierre, wincing a little. “I’m
ashamed to tell.”
But Lois persisted, and she had such kind, “taking” ways that,

Page -207-
as Pierre would have told you, she never let down her little bucket
of sympathy into Pierre’s heart without drawing up nearly all his
troubles.
“Well, Lois,” said he, slowly, “in the first place, you know how
anxious Father has been that I should be ‘head boy’ at school this
year, and you know how I’ve studied early and late, and haven’t
missed a single lesson?”
“Yes, indeed,” exclaimed Lois.
“Then you know that Herbert Bell is the only other boy who has
been studying so hard, and I’m sure I can remember at least three
times he has missed this quarter.”
“Yes, well?”
“Well, today, Mr. Simmons asked me to stay a few minutes after
school, and when the scholars were all gone, he said, ‘I’ve been
very much pleased with some of my scholars lately, and I’ve been
thinking I should like to give the one who has the most good marks
at the end of the quarter some reward for his industry and good
behavior. Now what should you think a boy, about your age, would
like best for a present this winter?’ Oh Lois, you can’t think how my
heart beat! I thought right away, ‘I’m sure he means me,’ and I’m
afraid he knew that I thought so, for it seemed to burn right through
my cheeks. But in a minute I said, just as careless as I could, ‘Why,
I should think, sir, a boy couldn’t like anything better than a nice,
sled, with iron shoes, and painted red,’ for you know, Lois, I’ve
wanted one three winters, and Father never could afford it, and now
‘times’ are harder than ever. Well, he smiled, and said he should
think that would please a boy, and then he looked right in my face,
and said, ‘What do you think of Herbert Bell? Isn’t he about as
good a scholar as we have in school?’ I declare, Lois, if my cheeks
burned before, I felt this time as if my whole head had tumbled off
into the stove, and I was choked with the smoke besides. I couldn’t
speak for a moment, but just pretended I had a terrible cough, and by

Page -208-
and by I just managed to say, ‘Yes, sir, I don’t believe there’s a better
fellow in all the world.’
“ ‘That’s all right,’ said Mr. Simmons, very kindly, ‘and now
I’ve one more favor to ask of you. As you and Herbert are such very
good friends, your tastes must be something alike, and I should like

Page -209-
some pleasant Saturday to take you with me to the city, to help me
pick out just the right kind of a sled, for it’s a good while since I was
a boy, and I’m afraid I don’t know so much about some things as I
did then.’
“I hardly remember what I said, Sister, but pretty soon I was out
on the road thinking I just know how that wicked old Haman felt, for
you see, I thought I was the boy Mr. Simmons delighted to honor,
and instead of that I must go to Bedford and pick out a pretty sled for
my Mordecai.” Pierre’s voice shook, and leaning his head against
the window, he stared out into the bleak, rainy night.
“But, Pierre,” said Lois, “I’m sure you’re not at all like that bad
Haman. You certainly don’t hate your Mordecai.”
“No indeed, Sister; there’s all the comfort there is in the
matter.”
“Not at all,” cried Lois; “there’s something more. I think it was a
very great honor for Mr. Simmons to consult you about the present.
It showed that he thought you had a noble, generous heart, and were
above all feelings of envy and jealousy.”
“I never thought of that,” said Pierre, brightening; “but then,
Sister,” he added more sadly, “I’m pretty sure he saw what I was
thinking about, and knew just how mean I was.”
“Not so very mean, after all,” said Lois, smiling. “It was kind in
you to praise Herbert—”
“Why, Sister,” interrupted Pierre, with a look of surprise, “what
else could I do? Didn’t I have to tell the truth?”
“To be sure,” said Lois, smiling still more, “but I do not believe
Mr. Simmons’ appraisal of you is a poor one. He knows very well
how hard it is for a boy who has studied as you have, to stand aside,
and let some one else take the first place. Ah, yes, Pierre, we all
have to struggle very hard and pray a great deal before we can very
cheerfully ‘in honor prefer one another.’ ”
“But you can do it at last, Sister?”

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 “Oh, yes, we can so far conquer our selfishness for Christ’s sake,
that at last we shall very much prefer other people’s happiness to our
own.”
Pierre looked thoughtful, but was much comforted, and was so
far reconciled to life that the call to supper and nice hot cakes was
by no means disregarded.
One pleasant Saturday, a few weeks after, Pierre rushed in with
a bright face.
“Well, Sister, it’s done at last. I and Mr. Simmons have bought
the sled, and it’s a regular beauty. Its name is ‘Rocket,’ and it’s the
brightest red. Oh, won’t Herbert’s eyes snap! But now, Sister, do
you think it was wrong for me to wish for one too? There were
plenty more beauties in the store, but they cost money,” and Pierre
sighed. “Never mind,” he continued bravely, “Herbert is just the
best fellow—and I really do think at last, that if only one of us could
have it, I would rather it should be he; and I think I’ll give him my
little flag too, so everything will be complete. And, oh, Sister, I
almost forgot—examination will end Wednesday, and I’m to have
the honor of presenting the sled. But do you know, I’m afraid Herbert
half suspects, for he is in the greatest spirits, and says he knows
something splendid that’s going to happen before long. Some of the
boys have got hold of it, too, I’m sure, for one of them said today,
‘There’s something going on right under your nose, Pierre, but some
people never get their eyes open until four o’clock.’ I was so happy
I didn’t mind it a bit, and only laughed to think how much wiser I
was than any of them.”
The great Wednesday came. Herbert and Pierre passed very fine
examinations, and at the close Pierre arose to deliver the speech
which had been carefully prepared for the occasion.
“Herbert Bell,” began Pierre, but (how awkward!) there was
Herbert coming forward too, and beginning—
“Pierre Vanderberg—”

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 “Keep still, Herbert,” whispered Pierre. “I am to make a speech,
and present you with a sled.”
“Just exactly what I am to do for you,” whispered back Herbert,
with a merry laugh.
Poor bewildered Pierre looked imploringly at Mr. Simmons,
who, rising, said, “I believe I must render a deliberation in this
matter, and say that the sled belongs to Pierre Vanderberg, who has
ten more marks than Herbert.”
“Oh, Mr. Simmons,” cried poor Pierre, but entirely broke down,
while Herbert shook his hand as if it were a pump handle. Lois
wiped her eyes in a corner, and the boys, who were all in on the
secret, made the old schoolroom shake with a perfect tempest of
applause.

“Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour

preferring one another;” —Romans 12:10

Questions
1. Why do you think Pierre walked so slowly when he was going
home?
2. Do you think Mr. Simmons thought badly of Pierre because he
had a difficult time being happy for Herbert at first? Why?
3. Why did Mr. Simmons ask each boy to pick out a prize for the
other?
4. How do you think Herbert may have reacted when he heard that
Pierre won?
5. What do you think it meant in the story when Lois said that
Mr. Simmons must have thought Pierre was above envy and
jealousy?
6. What does it mean to “prefer other people’s happiness to our
own”?

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What Do You Think?
7. Are you happy for others when they receive something nice,
achieve something special? List one or two times in your life
when you really wanted something that someone else received
instead. How did you react? How should you have reacted?
How would God have wanted you to react?

Vocabulary
amiss that something was amiss
appraisal Mr. Simmons’ appraisal of you
bleak he stared out into the bleak, rainy night
consult for Mr. Simmons to consult you
deliberation I must render a deliberation in this matter
deliver arose to deliver the speech
dense the boy loomed in the dense mist
disregarded nice hot cakes was by no means disregarded
inclement for this inclement night
loomed the boy loomed in the dense mist
magnificent a magnificent roaring fire
notification but to this cheery notification
obscured and obscured his head behind the curtain
recognizing recognizing very clearly that something was
amiss
reconciled and was so far reconciled to life
render I must render a deliberation in this matter
shoes with iron shoes
tempest with a perfect tempest of applause
wincing said Pierre, wincing a little

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 Lesson XXXIV
Mother’s Sheaf

When I was a girl I lived by the seaside. My home was in a little

fishing village on the top of the high cliffs; all around were bright
fields, green woods, and hills covered in autumn with purple heather.
I never wearied of watching our fishing boats, and then turning to
see the grey stone cottages among the yellow harvest fields. And,
like most of my neighbors, I had good cause to watch the sea, for
both my brothers were fishers, and supported my widowed mother
and me by the sale of the fish they brought home. When they ran
their boat on shore I used to help them unload, and often I carried
the fish to the nearest town for sale; then I could mend the nets and
help dear Mother, who was weak and ailing.
Besides this, I was always very busy in hay time and harvest
helping in the fields, and, like all the rest of the girls in the hamlet,
went gleaning as soon as the last sheaves were gathered. I liked
gleaning; true, it was sometimes rather hot work, and I would grow
weary, and long to sit down under the shade of a tree or hedge; but we
would keep one another up to our work, and sing merrily the while,
until we all had our little sheaves bound to carry home. That was the
most pleasant part. I would take mine to dear Mother and bid her
see how large it was, and how many nice loaves we should be able
to have. Mother said she thought the bread made from my sheaves
was the sweetest she ate all the year. I remember, one evening, after
I had come in from my gleaning, and was sitting at the open cottage
door to rest and feel the sweet sea air, Mother took her large Bible,

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which I knew so well, and read to me in her gentle tones the sweet
story of Ruth. I had heard it before, but that evening it all seemed

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new and fresh to me, and so real; I think that I never after went into
a field to glean without remembering the story of Ruth’s love and
obedience.
Years went by, and Will and Tom and I were all nearly grown
up. Will was the eldest; he was twenty-one now, and had a boat of
his own bought with his savings. He was a lad of which a sister
could be proud, so brave and gentle, such a good tender son and
loving brother. This did not all come naturally either; he had a high
spirit and strong will. I’ve heard that he was a troublesome boy, and
poor Father used to fear he’d be unsteady, and maybe run off to sea;
but Mother always hoped, and the secret of her hope was that she
prayed. Many a night she would lie awake asking God to bless her
Will, to soften his heart, and to teach him to feel the great love of
God through Jesus Christ. Her prayer was answered; not just as she
had hoped, for the change seemed to be wrought by a most heavy
sorrow. Father died, and at fourteen Will was left to take care of us
all, for Tom was only nine years old then. It was enough to steady
any one; but it was not only the grief and the care that changed
Willy; I believe it was God answering his mother’s prayer.
He was employed to help a neighbor in his fishing, and though
’twas but a poor living he could earn with all his efforts, yet we
managed to get on somehow. Mother was stronger then, and did
a little washing and ironing at times, and Tom and I worked in our
little garden and went into the fields whenever we could get anything
to do, for I was twelve, and a strong, healthy girl. Will not only
worked hard and lived poorly without complaining, and did his duty
like a good son, but he struggled with his faults of temper, and grew
more gentle, more thoughtful for others in acts and words; until
slowly and painfully, but ever supported by the help and blessing of
God, the passionate, headstrong boy grew into a manly, gentle lad,
his mother’s stay and comfort. As for Tom, he was of a different
make—not bold and outspoken like his brother, but timid and secret:

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he never did much amiss of which we knew, and was mostly fond
of lying on the beach poring over any books on which he could
lay hands, but he was so strange in his ways and made so many
mysteries that we were never quite sure that all was going on well.
He was sixteen this autumn of which I am writing, and helping Will
in his fishing; but though he seldom complained he never looked
happy, and we knew his heart was not in his work; but Mother had
no means of putting him to anything else. It was evening, that day
had been hot and sultry, and low dark clouds hung on the horizon.
Will had said to me as he pushed his boat off in the morning, “’Twill
be squally before night, Mary, I think; but, please God, I’ll be home
at sunset. Don’t say aught to Mother; she’d be fearful for us, and
there’s nothing to fear for hours yet.”
Many a time that day did I stop in my gleaning to look out to sea;
it was all covered with little white-crested waves, but blue sky was
still to be seen, and many of our boats were out. I fancied I could
make out Willy’s. I had always a far sight. When the sun set stormy
and red, and thick autumn mists began to cover the sea and drift to
land, I was on the beach, thankful enough to hear the splash of oars
and Willy’s voice calling to Tom to pull the boat ashore. I was soon
by their side helping them to unload; they had a good catch, and we
were in high spirits—at least Tom and I were. I hadn’t often seen
Tom so noisy or so full of jokes, though I fancied once or twice that
when he didn’t think any one was looking at him his face fell, and
he looked gloomy enough. Will was very quiet and grave, and when
the boat had been emptied and hoisted high and dry on the beach, I
said to him, “Why, Will, you look as if you’d brought home four or
five herrings instead of a boat load of prime fish. What’s the matter
with you?”
“Nothing, Mary, but this: that I don’t like so many of our boats
being out on a night like this; there may be more on these sands
tomorrow than we’ll like to see, if my fears prove true.”

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 “Nay, Will,” said I, “I’ve seen the boats ride safely enough
through many a night like this.”
“Maybe, maybe,” he answered, and said no more; and by-and-
by we all went home, and I was soon lying by Mother’s side asleep,
tired out with my day’s harvesting. About one o’clock I woke: few
could sleep through such a storm as was then raging. I opened the
casement window, and clearly heard through the roar of thunder and
the sound of the winds and waves the signal guns of a ship in distress.
I was at Will’s door in a moment, but he and Tom were both gone,
down to the beach doubtless. I came back to Mother, who lay with
her hands clasped, praying for the poor people in danger.
“Where are your brothers?” she said.
“Gone to the beach, I suppose. May I go too, Mother?”
“Yes, lass, go. I don’t fear for Will, but look after Tom.”
“He can’t come to harm on the beach, Mother.”
“No, lass, no; but I’d rather you were there.”
So I dressed. I was used to storms, and, wrapped in my winter
cloak, thought nothing of running down the narrow cliff path to the
beach. Almost all of the village was there, and the old fishermen
stood together in knots, anxiously questioning what should be
done.
“Wait until morning,” said one.
“She’ll be on the rocks before morning, and not a soul left alive
in her,” said another. “Haul out the lifeboat.”
“What’s the use? She can’t live in such a sea; ’twould be
throwing our own lives after the others.”
I could not see either Tom or Will as I passed from group to
group, hearing from each such remarks as these. At last I saw that
the lifeboat was being dragged down, and as she passed close to me
I heard Will’s voice giving time to the rest who were bringing her
along. I caught his sleeve.
“Oh, Will, what are you going to do?”

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 “Never fear for me; it’s my duty,” he said. “Can I let these poor
fellows go down almost at our feet, and never try to help them?”
“Think of Mother,” I gasped out, holding him fast.
“I do think; if she were here she would give me her blessing and
bid me go. Did she not teach me that—”
Here his voice broke, but soon he spoke again. Low and clear I
heard his words through all the storm and the strife. I seem to hear
them now.
“Lass,” he said, “ ‘He hath measured the waters in the hollow
of his hand.’ I am not going away from His care. Should I be safer
to stay here when it is my duty to go to the ship? God will be with
me; and Tom and you must care for Mother if aught happens to me.
One word more, Mary,” he said, as I loosened my hold: “I ought
to tell you that without me the boat couldn’t go; there are only just
enough willing to man her. Now pray for us,” and he went. I never
thought of anything but Will out among the waves and the rocks,
and I prayed as I never prayed before. I forgot even Mother alone
at home, even Tom. I thought of the danger and the help. That is a
wonderful hour in the life of each one of us when God first teaches
us the true meaning of prayer, in which for the first time we seem,
as it were, to lay hold on the hem of His garment, and feel that we
will not let Him go. From a child I had been taught to pray. Night
and morning I knelt by my little bed and said neither thoughtless
nor insincerely the words my mother had taught me; but that night I
thought that all prayer would henceforth be different to me, for I had
felt that God was near, I had known what it was to lay hold of His
strength, and I believed that for the sake of Christ my prayer would
be heard. I don’t know how long I had knelt when I felt someone
touch me on the shoulder. I looked up and saw Tom standing by me
with a face deadly white and drawn.
“Will is out there,” he said, pointing to the sea and the wreck,
which was now full in sight.

Page -219-
 “I know it,” I said.
“He will be drowned; I know he will be drowned,” gasped
Tom.
“I think not, Tom. He told me that he believed God would take
care of him. We must pray for him.”
“Don’t talk like that. I can’t pray.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, Mary,” said Tom, “if I hadn’t been so wicked I might be
with him now; but I didn’t dare go, for I had no right to think that
God would take care of me.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I can’t tell you all now; but, Mary, you don’t know how I’ve
hated my life, and the fishing, and the sea, and all. I wanted to be a
scholar and a great man, and so as Mother had no money, I—I thought
I must get it somehow; and, Mary, if I’m not a thief, it’s through no
good in me. I meant to steal the money this very night.”
I hardly know what I said to my poor brother, but by-and-by I
persuaded him to go home to Mother and tell her that I’d come as
soon as there was news of Will. I had not long to wait; I heard a cry
from one of the sailors who held a glass: “He has done it! It’s all
right!”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Yon lad has heaved the rope to the ship; the boat is alongside
now. Please God, they’ll all be saved.”
But they were not all saved, for when Will came on ashore he
carried in his arms a little girl about five years old, and he told me
that her father and mother had been swept from the deck in the
course of the night by a terrible wave, and that she was left alone.
He took her home. “Mother,” said he, as he went in, “I’ve been
gleaning, and here is my sheaf,” and he held out the little white thing
to her. Mother took the child into her arms and cherished her and
fed her with warm bread and milk until a little color came back to

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her cheeks, and then she laid her in her own bed while we all knelt to
thank God for all His great mercies. Poor Tom had told my mother
all, and he sobbed bitterly as he knelt by her.
Annie White, as the little girl called herself, was a sweet, loving
child, and soon dear to us all, though she clung most to Will, as

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was perhaps natural. Her parents must have been rich, we thought,
judging from her look and dress, but we were forced to clothe her
in a coarse frock made out of one of mine, and to put on her an old
pinafore that I had worn years ago. And thus, just like one of us, she
ran about the cottage or went into the fields with me. At the end of
the week a gentleman from London came to make inquiries about
her; he was her uncle, the nearest friend she had left, and a good,
kind gentleman he was. I can’t tell all that passed; but I know he
wanted much to give Will something in reward for his courage in
saving the little girl. But Will would not hear of it.
“No, sir. I did naught but my duty, and I couldn’t touch the
money.”
“Is there nothing I may do for you, not as pay, but to show my
gratitude? Think again,” said the gentleman.
Will looked thoughtful; at last he said, “There is one thing, sir,
and if you can do it, I’ll be overpaid and grateful to you for ever
more.”
Just then Mother called me; but by-and-by I learned that Tom
was to go to London to be educated there at some institution for lads
who wanted, as he did, to be scholars.
“’Tis your chance in life, lad,” said Will. “Don’t throw it
away.”
“Please God, I won’t. If nought else would move me, I’m not
likely to forget how the chance was bought for me.”
“And Mary,” said Will to me the same day, “the gentleman offers
to take you as nurse to little Annie. You would live in a nice house,
and be well fed and clothed; and he says if he were pleased with you,
you would soon get large wages. ’Tis a good chance for you.”
I said nothing, but went out into the fields to think. To go to
London— It sounded very pleasant and fine. I had dreamed of it
many a time, though I never hoped such a lot would really be mine.
“Yes, I’ll go,” I said to myself. “I’ll send all my wages home to

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Mother, except what I keep for presents for her and Will; and when
I come home dressed like a lady, everyone will make so much of
me. Why should Tom learn and get on, and I be a poor fisherman’s
daughter all my days?” As I went home to tell Mother and Will of
my choice I passed through the cleared fields, and stopped without
thinking to glean some stray ears. At that moment I seemed to hear
my mother reading to me the story of Ruth. I heard her repeat,
“Intreat me not to leave thee, nor to return from following after thee:
for whither thou goest, I will go; where thou lodgest, I will lodge:
thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.” And I, her
own daughter, would have left her! I thought—God forgive me;
and my mother is feeble and needing care every day and hour. How
could I; oh, how could I? I sat down, and cried bitterly, and then
asked God to help me, that I might keep my new purpose steadily,
and never fail in trying to be to my mother all that Ruth was to
Naomi. I rose lighter of heart, gleaned a little handful of corn, and
carried it home.
“Mother,” I said as I went up to her, “I have brought you a sheaf.
I want to stay and glean for you. Don’t send me away.”
“Send you away, child! Would I send away the light of my
eyes?—only if it is for your good to go.”
“But it would not be for my good to leave you, Mother. I have
decided. Let me stay with you. Could I be happy in London, and
you suffering here?”
No more was said; but when Mr. White heard how I had decided,
he said that as Annie was but thin and weak, he should like to leave
her with us for some months under mother’s care, to run about with
me and grow strong among the sea breezes and country lanes. Thus
it was decided. Tom went to London, earnestly desiring, I believe,
to be a good, industrious lad, and having been taught self-distrust
through his great sin, seeking with all his heart the only help which
could keep him from harm. He, too, in good time brought his sheaf

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for Mother. He worked well and diligently, and made his way in the
world, and used to come home now and then to cheer and comfort us
all as we saw him happy and useful in the life he had chosen. Annie
stayed with us long, and ever after would come again in harvest time
to run with me in the fields and glean her pinafore full, as she did the
first time she was with us. God’s blessing rested on our home; and
though we never had a great deal of money, yet this blessing indeed
“it maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it.”

“Delight thyself also in the LORD; and he shall give thee the desires of
thine heart.” —Psalm 37:4

Questions
1. What was the mother’s prayer in the beginning of the story?
2. How did God answer the mother’s prayer?
3. How did Mary feel about her role in the family?
4. From what we know of Tom’s life in the story, why do you think
he wanted to be a scholar and a great man? What habit in his life
might have contributed to his unhappiness?
5. Why do you think Will would not take money for saving the
girl’s life?
6. Why do you think that when he was pressed, Will decided to ask
a favor for his brother and sister?
7. How did Mary show her love for her mother?

What Do You Think?

8. Do you think Tom’s life could have been happier if he had set
his mind to enjoy fishing and the sea instead of longing for
something else? Why?
9. List a few ways in which you can put others first in your life.

Page -224-
Vocabulary
ailing who was weak and ailing
aught if aught happens to me.
casement I opened the casement window
crested covered with little white-crested waves
distrust having been taught self-distrust
drawn with a face deadly white and drawn
frock a coarse frock
gleaning I’ve been gleaning
headstrong the passionate, headstrong boy
hedge under the shade of a tree or hedge
herrings four or five herrings
hoisted hoisted high and dry on the beach
knots the old fishermen stood together in knots
outspoken not bold and outspoken like his brother
pinafore and glean her pinafore full
poring poring over any books
prime boat load of prime fish
sheaves bread made from my sheaves
sultry that day had been hot and sultry
widowed supported my widowed mother
yon yon lad has heaved the rope

Page -225-
 Lesson XXXV
The Angel in the Fog

It had been misty all day, and just before four o’clock a heavy
black fog settled down on the city, shrouding everything with a thick
veil, and making even the street lamps, which had been hastily lit,
invisible except to those immediately under them.
This was the state of things when the boys from Mr. Wilson’s
Preparatory School raced down the steps with their straps and
satchels and prepared to make their way home.
“Hadn’t you better wait, Reid?” said an elder lad to a young
fellow who might have been nine years old. “You’ve got a good
way to go, and the fog’s very thick. You might lose yourself. If you
waited, it might clear, or your family might send for you.”
Geoffrey Reid tossed his head scornfully. “Much obliged,
Snipe,” he said. “I can find my way all right, and they would never
think of sending for me.”
“All right,” said Snipe, cheerfully, as he disappeared in the
gloom. “I’ll leave a description of you at the police station as I come
by in the morning, and ask them to drag the canal.”
Geoffrey felt full confidence in his own directional powers when
he set out on his homeward journey, with his hands in his pockets,
and whistling merrily; but it was somewhat shaken when he reached
a refuge in the middle of the road where four streets met and he
could not tell in which direction he ought to go, and it vanished
altogether when he was halted abruptly, as he walked squarely into
an iron railing when he felt sure he was going along a straight path.

Page -226-
 He turned and twisted and grew more confused every minute.
The fog made his eyes smart and his throat rough and dry, while a
damp chill seemed to envelop him; and he wished that he had taken
advice and waited until somebody had come for him. It was too late
now, however, and he struggled manfully on, not knowing where
he was going. He determined to ask the next person he met for
guidance, but there did not seem to be any people about, and when
one dim form towered over him for a moment, it had disappeared
again before he had even begun to ask his question.
It seemed hours since he had left school, and he felt sure he must
have walked miles. There were more tears in his eyes than could be
justly laid to the acrid smoke of London when he ran against a boy
a little bigger than himself.
“Where are you shoving to?” exclaimed the figure. “If you want
to bang your head, you can try a lamppost; there’s plenty about.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Geoffrey meekly. “I didn’t see you. I’ve
lost my way. Can you tell me if I am near Chesham Gardens?”
“Never heard of them,” said the boy briefly. “There ain’t no
gardens about here,” and he made as though he would go on.
“Don’t go,” cried Geoffrey, grasping his arm. “Can’t I come
with you a little way?”
“I’m going home,” said the boy. “You can come along with me
if you like. Mother might know where your place is.”
Geoffrey gladly accepted the offer and quickened his steps to
keep up with his new friend’s rapid gait.
It might be well to tell you a little about John Brotherton’s home
before he and Geoffrey reach it.
John was the eldest of four children. His father had been dead
about two years, and his mother had hard work to feed and clothe
the little ones. John was just about to leave, and looked forward
to the time when his weekly earnings would make life brighter at
home; but just now things were in a bad way.

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 Mrs. Brotherton was a God-fearing woman, and it was only that
morning that she had been telling her little girl how God had fed the
prophet Elijah by means of ravens, and that He would always feed
his people.
“Does he always send ravens?” asked little Lucy, with a glance
at the window.
“No,” replied her sister Annie, with the superior wisdom of her
eight years. “It’s generally angels.”
“I never saw an angel,” said little Lucy with awe in her voice.
“Did you?”
Annie found it convenient not to hear this, and their mother went
on to tell them that they must ask God to send food, and He would
choose whom He pleased to bring it.
“I have asked Him,” said Lucy; “so I suppose it will be coming
before long.”
But as the day drew on, and the darkness grew, poor Mrs.
Brotherton was compelled to light her only remaining candle to
enable her to see the work she was doing. She looked anxiously at it
from time to time, for she feared whether it would last until the work
was done, and there would be no money forthcoming until she could
return the finished work.
“Set the table for tea, Annie,” she said at length. “The boys will
be in presently, and I have not a moment to spare.”
It was not the first time Annie had done this, and she set about her
work with a businesslike air, giving her little sister the cups to carry
one at a time with womanly warnings as to possible breakages.
“There isn’t much tea, Mother,” she said, after examination of
the little canister in the cupboard.
“Shake it out and put it in the pot,” said her mother. “If I can get
this work in tonight, there’ll be some fresh in for breakfast,” and she
bent her weary back and moved her cold fingers faster than before.
Just as Annie had finished her task, steps on the stairs told that the

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 boys were approaching.
“Harry isn’t coming,”
said John, as he opened
the door. “He went home
with Mr. Smith to do some
jobs.” While he spoke he
advanced toward the light
with Geoffrey beside
him.
The little girls gazed
with wonder on the smart
little figure in its warm
coat with fur trimmings.
“Is it an angel?”
whispered Lucy; butAnnie
nudged her reprovingly.
“Boys aren’t angels,” she
said, with truth.
By this time John
was explaining Geoffrey’s appearance and asking for Chesham
Gardens.
“Chesham Gardens!” said Mrs. Brotherton reflectively. “Oh,
yes, I know it, but it is a long way from here. Well, you’d better
stop here until I’ve got my work done, and I’ll take you home. I’m
sorry I can’t go at once because I would think your mother’s in a
way about you, but I must finish the work, and I don’t dare send you
with John in this fog. You’d both be lost.”
Geoffrey was gazing around the room with astonished eyes. It
was quite unlike any room he had seen before. A good-sized bed
took up one side of it, and the little table on which the tea was set out
was surrounded by two chairs with broken backs and some wooden
stools. There were a good many pictures and framed certificates

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on the walls, and everything looked clean so far as the light of the
candle would allow him to see it; yet it was but a poor home, and
seemed to Geoffrey very crowded and uncomfortable.
“You’d better get your tea, children,” said the mother. “I can’t
wait now. Go and wash your hands, Jack.” Geoffrey accompanied
his host to a sink on the landing outside the door, where they washed
their hands under the running tap, which seemed a much better and
more amusing plan than using a basin, and they all sat down to tea.
“There’s only a little trickle left,” said Annie in a loud whisper.
“Well, give it to the little boy first,” said the mother in a similar
tone, and the meal began. There was not a whole loaf, and it speedily
vanished under the attacks of the boys.
When Geoffrey held out his plate for another slice, Lucy could
stand it no longer. “Angels do eat a lot,” she said, with withering
scorn. “There won’t be any for Mother if you have any more.”
Mrs. Brotherton looked up. “Don’t you be rude, Lucy,” she said.
“Eat as much as you like, my dear.”
But Geoffrey grew very red. “I don’t think I want any more,
thank you,” he said. “Mother always says I eat too much, and your
bread is so nice.”
“I am sure your mother is a nice lady,” said Mrs. Brotherton
warmly, “and I am only sorry to keep her anxious all this time, but
I can’t help it. I haven’t a drop of oil left, and this candle is all I’ve
got.”
The children drew their stools around the fire while Annie cleared
away the tea and prepared to wash the cups and plates. Geoffrey and
John talked and Lucy listened.
“Why do you have tea in the bedroom?” said the former. “I
should have thought it would have been nicer in the dining room, or
even in the kitchen.”
“This is the only room we’ve got,” said John. “When Father
was alive we had two, but we’ve only had one since he died. You

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see, the rents are so high; but when I go to work we shall be better
off.”
“I saw lots of other rooms in the house,” said Geoffrey. “Who
has all those?”
John promptly supplied him with a list of the other lodgers.
“I wish your mother didn’t have to work so hard,” said Geoffrey.
“I shouldn’t like mine to have no time for her tea.”
“When I’m a man,” said John, “she shan’t do any work at all, but
shall live in a nice little house as she did before she married.”
Then the two boys fell to discussing their future paths in life, and
Geoffrey was disposed to envy John when he announced his firm
determination of being an engine driver.
At last Mrs. Brotherton folded up her work just before the flame
of the candle leapt to a great height and then died away.
“Now we’ll start,” she said. “You children must make the fire do
until I get back, and that won’t be for a good while. John, take care
of Lucy, and Annie don’t get to lighting bits of paper and such.”
“Yes, Mother,” said John, and Mrs. Brotherton set off, the bundle
of work on one arm and Geoffrey’s hand firmly grasped in hers.
It was a good way to the shop that gave the work, and poor Mrs.
Brotherton was five minutes too late to get her money, so that it was
with an empty purse and a sorrowful heart that she went the yet
longer distance to Chesham Gardens.
Here she found a sorrowful household, for the loss of the only
son had caused his parents much pain and anxiety. Mr. Reid was
still out engaged in the search, and Mrs. Reid rushed into the hall to
clasp her child in her arms as soon as she heard his voice.
Mrs. Brotherton refused to wait until the father came in, as she
was anxious to get home, but she carried a piece of gold in her hand
when she left, which provided such comforts for the next morning
that little Lucy gravely announced, as she ate the unwonted luxury
of bread and butter, “You see it was an angel after all.”

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 And as the days went on and Mrs. Reid proved a good and
constant friend, Mrs. Brotherton felt disposed to think she was
right.

“The angel of the LORD encampeth round about them that fear him, and
delivereth them.” —Psalm 34:7

Questions
1. What did you picture in your mind’s eye when the story said the
fog shrouded everything with a thick, black veil?
2. What do you think kept Geoffrey from taking Snipe’s advice?
3. Do you think Geoffrey regretted the fact that he did not take
Snipe’s advice? Why?
4. Why do you think Geoffrey was astonished when he saw the
Brotherton’s lodgings?
5. Why do you think Lucy made the rude comment about Geoffrey
eating so much?
6. Why did John say that when he grew up his mother would live
in a cottage, and would not have to do any work?
7. Why did Mrs. Brotherton take Geoffrey back to his parent’s
house?
8. Do you think Mrs. Brotherton was hoping Geoffrey’s parents
would give her money for returning Geoffrey? Explain your
answer.
9. Why do you think Mrs. Reid proved to be a good and constant
friend of Mrs. Brotherton?

What Do You Think?

10. In this story we see how Geoffrey’s pride caused him to suffer
bad consequences. Do you have pride in your life which causes
you to suffer? Explain your answer.

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Vocabulary
abruptly he was halted abruptly
acrid justly laid to the acrid smoke of London
basin more amusing plan than using a basin
breakages with womanly warnings as to possible breakages
canal ask them to drag the canal
canister the little canister in the cupboard
certificates and framed certificates on the walls
directional confidence in his own directional powers
disposed Geoffrey was disposed to envy John
envelop a damp chill seemed to envelop him
forthcoming no money forthcoming
gait keep up with his new friend’s rapid gait
guidance he met for guidance
lodgers with a list of the other lodgers
nudged but Annie nudged her reprovingly
satchels with their straps and satchels
shrouding shrouding everything with a thick veil
smart on the smart little figure in its warm coat
squarely as he walked squarely into an iron railing
trimmings warm coat with fur trimmings
unwonted as she ate the unwonted luxury of bread and
butter

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 Lesson XXXVI
The Leak in the Dyke
A Story of Holland

The good dame looked from her cottage

At the close of the pleasant day,
And cheerily called to her little son
Outside the door at play:
“Come, Peter, come! I want you to go,
While there is light to see,
To the hut of the blind old man who lives
Across the dyke, for me;
And take these cakes I made for him—
They are hot and smoking yet;
You have time enough to go and come
Before the sun is set.”

Then the good wife turned to her labor,

Humming a simple song,
And thought of her husband working hard
At the sluices all day long;
And set the turf a-blazing,
And brought the coarse, black bread;
That he might find a fire at night,
And find the table spread.

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 And Peter left the brother,
With whom all day he had played,
And the sister who had watched their sports
In the willow’s tender shade;
And said they’d see him back before
They saw a star in sight,
Though he wouldn’t be afraid to go
In the very darkest night!

For he was a brave, bright fellow,

With eye and conscience clear;
He could do whatever a boy might do,
And he had not learned to fear.
Why, he wouldn’t have robbed a bird of her nest,
Nor brought a stork to harm,
Though never a law in Holland
Had stood to stay his arm!

And now with his face all glowing,

And eyes as bright as the day
With the thoughts of his pleasant errand,
He trudged along the way;
And soon his joyous prattle
Made glad a lonesome place—
Alas! If only the blind old man
Could have seen that happy face!
Yet he somehow caught the brightness
Which his voice and presence lent;
And he felt the sunshine come and go
As Peter came and went.

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And now, as the day was sinking,
And the winds began to rise,
The mother looked from her door again
Shading her anxious eyes,
And saw the shadows deepen,
And birds to their homes come back,
But never a sign of Peter
Along the level track.
But she said, “He will come at morning,
So I need not fret nor grieve—
Though it isn’t like my boy at all
To stay without my leave.”

But where was the child delaying?

On the homeward way was he,
And across the dyke while the sun was up
An hour above the sea.
He was stooping now to gather flowers,
Now listening to the sound,
As the angry waters dashed themselves
Against their narrow bound.
“Ah! Well for us,” said Peter,
“That the gates are good and strong,
And my father tends them carefully,
Or they would not hold you long!
You’re a wicked sea,” said Peter;
“I know why you fret and chafe;
You would like to spoil our lands and homes;
But our sluices keep us safe!”

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But hark! Through the noise of waters
Comes a low, clear, trickling sound:
And the child’s face pales with terror,
As his blossoms drop to the ground.
He is up the bank in a moment,
And, stealing through the sand,
He sees a stream not yet so large
As his slender childish hand.
’Tis a leak in the dyke! He is but a boy,
Unused to fearful scenes:
But, young as he is, he has learned to know
The dreadful thing that means!

A leak in the dyke! The stoutest heart

Grows faint that cry to hear,
And the bravest man in all the land
Turns white with mortal fear.
For he knows the smallest leak may grow
To a flood in a single night;
And he knows the strength of the cruel sea
When loosed in its angry might.

And the boy! He has seen the danger,

And, shouting a wild alarm,
He forces back the weight of the sea
With the strength of his single arm!
He listens for the joyful sound
Of a footstep passing nigh;
And lays his ear to the ground, to catch
The answer to his cry.
And he hears the rough winds blowing,
And the waters rise and fall,
But never an answer comes to him,
Save the echo of his call.
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Page -238-
He sees no hope, no succor near,
His feeble voice is lost;
Yet what shall he do but watch and wait,
Though he perish at his post!
So, faintly calling and crying
Till the sun is under the sea;
Crying and moaning till the stars
Come out for company;

He thinks of his brother and sister,

Asleep in their safe, warm bed;
He thinks of his father and mother,
Of himself as dying—and dead;
And of how, when the night is over,
They must come and find him at last:
But he never thinks he can leave the place
Where duty holds him fast.

The good dame in the cottage

Is up and astir with the light,
For the thought of her little Peter
Has been with her all the night.
And now she watches the pathway
As yester eve she had done;
But what does she see so strange and black
Against the rising sun?
Her neighbors are bearing between them
Something straight to her door;
Her child is coming home, but not
As he ever came before!

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 “He is dead!” she cries; “my darling!”
And the startled father hears,
And comes and looks the way she looks,
And fears the thing she fears;
Till a glad shout from the bearers
Thrills the stricken man and wife—
“Give thanks, for your son has saved our land,
And God has saved his life!”
So, there in the morning sunshine
They knelt about the boy:
And every head was bared and bent
In tearful, reverent joy.

Tis many a year since then; but still,

When the sea roars like a flood,
Their boys are taught what a boy can do,
Who is brave and true and good.
For every man in that country
Takes his dear son by the hand,
And tells him of little Peter,
Whose courage saved the land.

They have many a valiant hero,

Remembered through the years;
But never one whose name so oft
Is named with loving tears.
And his deed shall be sung by the cradle,
And told to the child on the knee,
So long as the dykes of Holland
Divide the land from the sea!
“And I sought for a man among them, that should make up the hedge, and
stand in the gap before me for the land, that I should not destroy it: but I
found none.” —Ezekiel 22:30

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Questions
1. Describe how Peter felt about the errand that his mother asked
him to run.
2. How did Peter make the blind old man feel when he arrived at
his cottage?
3. What was the purpose of the dykes?
4. What was Peter doing all night?
5. How do you think Peter felt as he sat there all night holding back
the leak?
6. How would the story have turned out if Peter had decided that he
was cold and afraid, and had gone home?

What Do You Think?

7. Do you think Peter held the leak in the dyke because he wanted
to be a hero? Why?
8. Many times people who become heroes are those who constantly
strive to do what is right. Can you name a few situations in
your life where you tried to do right even when it was not
comfortable?
9. How might you stand in the gap or make up the hedge?

Vocabulary
astir is up and astir with the light
chafe I know why you fret and chafe
dashed the angry waters dashed themselves
dyke leak in the dyke
leave to stay without my leave
prattle and soon his joyous prattle
sluices at the sluices all day long
succor he sees no hope, no succor near
track along the level track
true who is brave and true and good
valiant they have many a valiant hero
yester as yester eve she had done

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 Appendix A
Roman Numeral Chart
1. =. I 30. = XXX
2. = II 31. = XXXI
3. = III 32. = XXXII
4. = IV 33. = XXXIII
5. = V 34. = XXXIV
6. = VI 35. = XXXV
7. = VII 36. = XXXVI
8. = VIII
9. = IX
10. = X
11. = XI
12. = XII
13. = XIII
14. = XIV
15. = XV
16. = XVI
17. = XVII
18. = XVIII
19. = IX
20. = XX
21. = XXI
22. = XXII
23. = XXIII
24. = XXIV
25. = XXV
26. = XXVI
27. = XXVII
28. = XXVIII
29. = XXIX
Page -242-
 Appendix B
Timing and Usage of Punctuation
colon [:]
A colon requires a pause of about a full breath and a slight
depression of the voice tone. A colon indicates the completion of a
complete thought, though not the end of the sentence. A colon also
indicates a pause before a list as in—Please read the following:

comma [,]
A comma requires a pause of about a half breath and a slight
elevation in voice tone. A comma indicates the completion of a
segment of a complete thought or sentence, with more to come
before the whole is completed.

ellipsis [. . .]
An ellipsis requires a pause of about a full breath and a slight
elevation of the voice tone. An ellipsis indicates that there is more
to the thought or sentence that is not expressed or given.

exclamation point [!]

An exclamation point requires a pause of about a full breath
and an elevation in voice tone as at the end of an exclamation or a
cry, which the exclamation point is used to denote.

long dash [—]

A long dash requires a pause of about a half breath and a slight
elevation of the voice tone. A long dash separates a new thought
relating to the main thought of a sentence.

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parentheses [( )]
Parentheses require that the voice be slightly more depressed
for words within the parentheses than for the rest of the sentence.
Parentheses indicate an explanatory thought that is added to the
sentence. They are used because the meaning of the sentence would
be no less understandable without the thought contained in the
parentheses.

period [.]
A period requires a pause of about a full breath and a slight
depression of the voice tone. A period completes a complete or
thought or sentence.

question mark [?]

A question mark requires a pause of about a full breath and an
elevation of the voice tone as at the end of a question, except if the
question is introduced by who, which, what, how, why, when, where,
and wherefore, if the emphasis is placed on one of these adverbs
when the question is asked.

quotation marks [“”]

Quotation marks require no special pausing other than that
required by other punctuation marks used in conjunction with them.
They indicate a specific quote or a character speaking in the text.

quotation marks [‘’]

Quotation marks (single) follow the same rules as double
quotation marks. Single quotation marks are used for a quote within
a quote.

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semicolon [;]
A semicolon requires a pause of about a half breath and a slight
elevation in voice tone when it is followed by a conjunction (and,
but, or, nor, yet . . . etc) .

A semicolon requires a pause of about a half breath and a slight

depression in voice tone when it is not followed by a conjunction.

A semicolon separates two complete thoughts in a sentence.

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