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T
The Family
A LETTER TO SISTER PHOEBE.
Dear Sister in the Gospel,
I herewith write a line
To tell you I am faring
Just pretty middling fine.
To tell you of the sermon
I heard last Sabbath day,
The congregational meeting
And all there was to say.
We had a good attendance
And prayers, and singing too,
And Brother T. gave out the text
As he is wont to do,
'Twas on the line of giving
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How little we were doing
Members, both me and you.
Then up arose an Elder Man?
He 'minded me of Paul,
Though lift was small of stature
He was not scared at all.
The nail the preacher hammered
He drove clean out of sight
And clinched the "tithing" process
With reasons, sound and right.
A.nd when we-all had listened
Till we were put to shame.
Elders and Deacohs both arose
And finished up the game.
They didn't "mince the matter"
But put it straight and strong
And showed we-all our duty
And where we had been wrong.
And, sister, we felt shabby,
To think we haxl not given
More of our worldly substance
To help the world to heaven.
1 looked round at the feathers
Upon we sisters' hats,
And ruffs, so high we couldn't turn,
And all our fine cravats?
And thought if we would halve 'em,
We would look better dressed,
Our consciences be clearer.
The heathen greater blessed.
Then all the "shortage" could be paid
And all the "balance due,"
If everyone would do their best
As we will try to do.
For, child, it set me thinking
If we aim for hpaven's con 1
Wp must not let our body
Rob or defraud our soul.
And don't It seem as If we should?
Always, not now and then?
Of every hundred cents we get
Just give our Master ten?
R. H. Q.
Blackstone. Va.
Low at His feet lay thy burden of carefulness,
High on His heart He will boar it for
thee.
?Monsell.
y
HE PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SOU!
CARRY THE MESSAGE.
By Mildred Welsh.
Did you ever hear the story of the
man who carried a message to Garcia?
It happened in 1898 during the war with
Spain. President McKinley wanted to
send a message to Garcia, the general
of the Insurgent army in Cuba, so that
he might know just how much help the
United States should depend on from
mc vuuun i>a.iriois. ISO one knew where
Garcia was or how to find him in the
enemy's country. Some one said to McKinley:
"There's a man by the name
of Rowan who will find him for you if
anyone can."
Rowan, a lieutenant in the army, was
sent for. He took the letter, sealed it
in an oilskin pocket, which he strapped
over his heart, and set out immediately.
It was a dangerous undertaking, failure
in which meant certain death as a
ppy. Sleeping at night on stone ballast
in the bottom of an open boat, scanning
the horizon by day, under a balmy sun,
to avoid the Spanish patrol boats, he
and his filibuster comrades came at last
to a little bay on the eastern coast
of Cuba.
After days of making his way through
tangled tropical forests and overgrown
roads, sleenine- mil r?f /)?<? <! ^??
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ering to protect him from the cold,
crossing the dry beds of streams, riding
down slippery mountain sides, and up
steeper ascents, where only the guide
could follow the blind trail, eating whatever
food the forest could offer or the
ragged natives provide, he at last found
General Garcia on the other side of the
island.
Then, with General Garcia's answer,
containing the figures, plans and instructions
desired by the president, he embarked
again with five other men in a
cockle shell of a boat so small that they
had to s!t upright day and night with
. uuiy iuuiii oeiween tneir teet for the
provisions gathered in the forest. All
night without sleep, they bailed out the
water, which threatened at every moment
to swamp their tiny craft, and all
day they sweltered in the fiery sunshine
in hourly danger of being overtaken by
a Spanish ship. At last, however, the
end of the journey came?and Lieutenant
Rowan had carried the message to Garcia!
In speaking of It, Major General
Miles said: "It was a most perilous
undertaking, and in my judgment Lieutenant
Rowan performed an act of heroism
and cool daring which has rarely
been excelled' in the annals of warfare."
But this is not the only message ever
carried through peril, toil and pain.
Gordon sitting alone in the great empty
palace at Khartoum, brave, unshaken, and
ever happy as he watched death coming
nearer every day, was carrying the
message. Livingstone, dying on his knees
in the little hut at Ilala, was carrying
the message. Allen Gardner, starving
with his unburled dead companions beside
him, on the storm-swept coast of
Terra Del Fuego, was carrying the message,
and Dr. Grenfell today, sailing the
hungry seas of the Labrador In his hospital
ship, is carrying the message.
In all the world today, the world hungering
for it, there is no one class of
men who is heroically, patiently and
'H. March 24, 1909.
faithfully carrying the message of life
and light and peace as the ministers of
the Gospel. In the home mission fields,
in the growing west, in the quiet country
places, in the cities, to the wretched
poor, to the unsatisfied rich, they are
carrying the message of Gcd.
"But the world is so great and the
men who carry the message are so few!
Is there any boy or young man who reads
this looking for a hero's "job"? Yes, it
means toil and stress, and strain, the
highest, deepest and best that a man is
capable of, but was any hero ever heard
of in the easy places of the world?
Will you carry the i*essage?
A HOME-GUARD HERO.
ungcaui Alien uurree, of the high
school cadets, sat on the edge of his
iron cot, and clicked his heels together
nervously. It had certainly been the
hardest day of his fifteen-year existence.
The night before had come a telegram
announcing:
"Private James. Durfee severely
wounded?thigh?assault on Calumpit." .
The message had been sent by one of
his father's old comrades, now connected
with the War Department at Washington,
and the morning papers had brought
no further information. So Allen and
his mother knew that for many long
weeks, perhaps until Jimmy himself could
wrue, tney must wait for particulars.
All day long he had been haunted by
his mother's white face as she opened
the fateful message, and by the thought
of dear old Jimmy, who taught him to
play marbles, baseball and football; who
had fought for him when he was imposed
upon, and with him when he deserved
it?lying weak and stiff in the tropical
heat of Luzon.
And cropping up with the heartache,
was a persistent pang of jealousy. Jimmy
was only eighteen when he enlisted, and
Allen had begged so hard to go, too.
Weren't they both the sons of a brave
soldier? he argued. Did three miserable
years prevent his marching just as far
and shooting just as straight as Jimmy?
"Allen, dear"?it was his mother's
voice from the foot of the stairs?"hurry
down and go to the store. Mr. Thomas
has forgotten to send the butter."
Allen spAng to his feet, dashed cold
water in his face, and rubbed it vigorously
with a towel. But in spite of this
treatment, his mother's keen eye caught
the traces of tears. She placed her hand
tenderly on his shoulder, saying:
"You must not worry about your
brother. Remember, he has a fine constitution,
and will have the best of hospital
care. Doubtless he'll be sent home
on a furlough."
"It isn't that, mother, altogether. I'd
trust Jimmy for pulling through almost
anything, but If only I could be with him.
It isn't fair that I must stay home when
he's there. I'm strong and tough, and the
uesi quarxer-oaoK me team's ever had.
and I could fight for my country Just
as* hard as Jimmy." ?
The mother's arm stole around the
boy. and she drew him close as a sudden
fear shot through her heart.
"And leave his poor mother all alone?
What should I do without my home
guard? You don't know what a com%