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THE LIFE WHICH IS TO COME.
1 Timothy 4:8.
This life is not the end, but the beginning
Of a new life beyond the vale of death.
Fuller by far ilow then the tides of being,
When we have drawn on earth our latest breath.
("all them not dead, who live the life immortal,
tiiiu ui cttiuc cx puici an man iitai ui cai in,
Who know the truth that death is but the portal,
Of that new life, which passes this in worth.
They kuow the joy of meeting the departed,
And see the glory of the life divine,
They share the rest of all the loyal hearted,
And shall for ever in Christ's Kingdom shine.
B. W. Watson in Toronto Presbyterian.
THE TRIBE ON THE WAR PATH.
BY CAROLINE SHELDON.
" Say, Chief, did you kuow that Miss Julia
Raymond is sick?" Tim Norman asked one Friday
afternoon, as lie and Teddy Lynde were
going home after early dismissal.
"Yes," the chief of the Maquoketas replied,
"Mother has been going over there pretty often
lately. It's rheumatism.''
Tim nodded. '' Too bad! I wondered why
she wasn't planting her garden. She generally
has plants set out and seeds in the ground long
before any one else in town."
"Yes, that's so. Look here, F. B.! don't you
think that here's a job for the tribe?"
"F. B." was the abbreviation for "Firebrand,"
Tim's "tribe name," given because of
the color of his hair.
"What do you mean?"
Ted talked rapidly for a few moments, in a
low tone, while Tim chuckled and nodded.
"That's great!" he cried, finally. "The tribe
will like that. Shall we do it tonight? We'll
have to get busy, if we do."
"The sun is more than four hours high," replied
Ted, solemnly, squinting at the sky. "You
go home and talk to your mother about it, and
T'll go talk to mine; and if they say we may,
give the signal for the tribe to gather in the
wigwam right off. That'll give the other braves
time to talk to their fathers and get the things
they need."
< All I 1)... ' i OM
./mi rigui: jrcace ur war paim i
Ted thought a moment, then answered: "War
paint. I guess we'll think it's war before we
get everything done that we've planned. Good
thing the paleface woman's dog knows the chief
warrior of the tribe.
Tim emitted a most un-bravelike chuckle.
"So it is," he said. "'Member the time he
grabbed Blue Ileaton when he was trying to
steal the first ripe watermelon out of her garden?"
"I guess nobody in Benton will ever forget
that," grinned Ted, in reply. "Served him
right, though. Idea of any fellow thinking of
stealing Miss Julia's watermelons!"
Hall' an hour later the echoes were wakened
by a long, wailing cry, supposed to be an Indian
war whoop. The sound caused many persons
to remark, in sympathy or disapproval:
"The tribe is gathering. Wonder what they're
up to now."
"Nothing very bad," Dr. Thorpe replied to a
nervous lady, whose voice suggested suspicion.
"Thov'rp r?r/>ttv ornn/t litflo fnll/vmo
- ? ^ "VW1V Avituno, i i WD t w i
them, and the rules of the tribe are so strict
that the mischievous ones don't dare do much
that's out of the way for fear of being expelled."
Meanwhile in the wigwam, Judge Lynde's
big bam, the powwow was in progress. Up in
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SO
headings
the haymow the hay had been piled at one side
to i'orin a throne; and here sat the chief sachem,
the second sachem, the keeper of the picturewriting
and the keeper of the wampum. In a
semi-circle facing those dignitaries were ranged
the solemn warriors of the tribe.
"When all had assembled, the chief sachem
thus addressed his warriors:
"Braves of the Maquoketas, the paleface
whom we call Kind Heart is sick. Ye know her
good deeds, how she gives us flowers from her
garden and many things to eat, and lets us
climb her trees and play ball in her lot. Every
brave knows, too, that she plants her gardens always
in the first quarter of the moon in the
brights. But now she is tormented by an evil
spirit and can do nothing. What is the will of
the tribe?
There was a brief pause, and the brave called
'' Deerfoot'' inquired:
"What the tribe do, O Chief? For
thou hast well said that Kind Heart is our
friend."
"The moon of bright nights is now round,"
the chief replied solemly, "and we can see to
work by its light. Is it the will of the trihe
that we spade Kind Heart's garden for her?
We must go softly, that she hear nothing, and
some light-footed brave must go in at the hack
door of her wigwam and bring out the plans already
growing in little boxes there, that we may
set them in the beds of the garden."
The eyes of the braves sparkled, and their
mouths twitched; but they maintained the calm
that they considered becoming to warriors, and
answered with one voice, shrill and hearty, "Let
the thing be done."
"It is well," pronounced the chief, gravely.
"At the first call of the whippoorwill, gather
here with those implements called spades and
rakes, and we will prepare the garden of Kind
Heart. Afterward, we will water and tend
it."
The braves voiced their approval in a wild
whoop, then scattered to the prosaic tasks that
waited them in their several homes. It must
be said that those tasks had been done with
greater zeal and regularity since splitting kindling,
keeping the lawn in order, running the
furnace fire, milking, feeding chickens and
even preparing lessons had all been grouped
under the one head, "fighting the enemy."
Mothers and sisters were sometimes bewildered
at the number of maneuvers necessary for so
simple a task as filling the waterpail; but, after
after all, they reasoned, the work was done, and
that was the main thing.
The sun had set and the moon was shining
over the quiet street when the braves gathered
once more in the wigwam. No whippoorwill
could be heard in Benton, but the expression
was Understood by the tribe to mean a time
varying from half-past six to eight, according
to the season. When the last warrior had arrived,
the chief gave his instructions in a low
tone; then all crept stealthily out at the side
door of the wigwam. What was their surprise
to be stopped under the great elm near the
walk by a tall man arrayed in what seemed
to he a hunting shirt, leggings, high boots and
a small fur cap.
"On the trail, brothers?" asked a voice they
all knew well. "Do the Maquoketas go on the
trail, for cither peace or war, without a word
to Natty Bumpo?"
Here the braves allowed themselves to grin
*
U T H [ June 21, 1911
and nudge each other in the moonlight; for
the arrival of Natty Bumpo, commonly called
?Judgc Lynch, always meant something interesting.
"I have heard of your purpose," the voice
continued softly; "and, as the joy ye've undertaken
is a 'judgmatical' one, the enemy being
strongly entrenched, I thought to offer my
help."
"What is the will of the tribe?" asked the
Chief ill a clear whisner
Together the warriors answered softly, but
distinctly, "Let the paleface brother come."
Then stealthily, in Indian tile, the tribe and
Natty Bumpo made their way to Miss Raymond's
house and began work in earnest.
Silently the figures moved about, communicating
with each other in signs. Rover, the
collie, frisked here and there, but without barking,
seeming to realize that something unusual
was happening, and that he, too, must be quiet,
doe Venner ("Feather-foot") even succeeded
in entering the kitchen and passing through
the window to his comrades the young cucumber
and tomato plants which were to be set
out in the beds prepared for them.
It was half-past ten. "the time of the hooting
owl," when the work was done, and the
tired, happy braves filed out of the garden and
went to their various homes.
"They worked well," the judge said to his
wife. "It was pretty late for such youngsters
to be out; but I guess it won't hurt them for
once, especially as it's Friday night. It's queer
how much easier it is to spade a garden, plant
vegetables and pull weeds when you say you
are 'fighting the enemy' instead of just doing
plain work. 1 wish we'd thought of such a
plan when I was a boy."
Next morning the astonished nurse reported
to Miss Raymond the state of affairs in the
garden. That lady insisted upon being put
into her chair at once and wheeled to the window.
nne began to get better right away," the
nurse said later. "She'd been worrying about
that garden; and when she saw what the boys
bad done, it seemed to help her more than
medicine."
"I don't see how they ever did it without
waking me," Miss Raymond observed t> Mrs.
Lynde. "You know, Helen, I'm a light sleeper."
"Oh, they used their sign language, and it's
a point of honor with them when they're on
the war path to move without making any
noise."
I
As for the watering and weeding of the garden,
with many other deeds of the Maquoketas.
They are set down in the books of the keeper
of the picture-writings.?Congrcgationalist.
A FAMILY PRAYER.
O God, Who bearest our burden and sustainest
them that trust iu thee, we pray that thou
wilt deliver us from all our fears. From the
shadow of the past deliver us; may we know' that
our sins are forgiven and that none can condemn
those whom thrm Una* "
juntiucu. r rom tne care
of the present deliver us; may we find our way,
amid the heat and dust of life, to the wells of
elear water, and be continually refreshed and
encouraged by fellowship with thee. From the
dread of the future, good Lord deliver us. May
the light of thy promises lead us on, and may
we know that wherever our path may lie thy
holy comforting presence goes ever before us
and is continually around us. We ask it in the
name of him who is the same yesterday, today
and forever. Amen.