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August 30, 1911] T H ?
He made a pot of coarse paint, and on a rock
which faced the ocean he painted in letters of
red:
"Alexander Mackenzie, from Canada, by land,
the twenty-second day of July, one thousand
seven hundred and ninety-three."
He made a safe return to Athabasca. The
next winter he left the West forever. The English
king mde him a knight, but could add nothing
to his wonderful and enduring manhood.
He died a respected citizen of Scotland, in 1820.
?The Montreal Witness.
I A BOY WHO KNEW HOW.
An American boy nineteen years of age once
found himself in London, where he was under
the necessity of earning his bread. He was not
like many young men in these days, who are
"willing to do anything" because they know
how to do nothing; but he had learned how to
do something, and knew just where to go to
find something tn dn sn lia want otrnicrht tr> a
printing office and inquired if help were needed.
""Where are you from?" inquired the foreman.
'America," was the answer.
"Ah!" said the foreman, "from America,
seeking employment as printer. Well, do you
really understand the art of printing? Can you
set type?"
The young man stepped to one of the cases
and in a brief space set up this passage from the
first chapter of John:
t i XT. Xl 1 1 i ^
i-NHiivanaei saia unto mm, uan mere any goon
thing come out of Nazareth? Philip saith unto
him, Come and see."
It was done so quickly, so accurately, and administered
a delicate reproof so appropriate and
powerful, that it at once gave him influence and
standing with all the office. He worked diligently
at his trade, refused to drink beer or any
kind of strong drink, saved his money, returned
to America, became a printer, publisher, author,
postmaster-general, member of Congress, signer
of the Declaration of Independence, ambassador
to royal courts, and finally died in Philadelphia,
at the age of eighty-four. There are more than
one hundred and fifty counties, towns and
villages in America named after this same
printer boy, Benjamin Franklin.?Exchange.
JULIA'S READING.
"Why, I shouldn't feel that I was living without
rendincf" .Tnlin p-*plHimprl "T aVmnlrf fppl
as if I was wasting my life. Think of spending
your time like Clara Ilayes?just clothes and
parties and visits! I don't suppose she opens a
book from one week's end to another!"
"It is too bad," Aunt Isabel replied, her
eyes upon her embroidery. "One real book a
month is an opportunity no girl should miss if
she can help it."
"One a month!" Julia echoed. "Why, Aunt
Isabel, I read two or three a week right straight
along! One isn't anything."
Aunt Isabel was silent while she worked a
difficult curve in her monogram. Then she
looked up with a smile.
'I said one real book," she answered.
"O, yes," Julia replied vaguely.
Aunt Isabel was spending the winter with the
family?to their great joy, for she was a rare
and much appreciated guest. One evening she
called Julia into her room. "I have something
to show you," she said.
Julia came, wondering. Her aunt handed her
a sheet of paper. It looked like the report of
the latest additions to the fiction department of
the public library.
"What?" Julia began. Then slowly the
color surged into her face. The record contained
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SO
the names of forty-one novels?and nothing else.
Is it right?" Aunt Isabel asked.
"I'm?afraid it is," Julia acknowledged.
"How many of them were worth while?"
"About three," the girl replied, frankly.
She stood studying the list; presently she put
it down with an air of determination.
" 'Hear my vow before I go' " she said,
laughing and serious at the same time. "Not
another novel, not even the most fascinating, for
three whole months! But you '11 have to help me
out, Aunt Bel."
"Agreed," Aunt Isabel responded, promptly.
Aunt Isabel's visit ended soon after that. She
gave Julia lists of books to read, but heard noth
ing in regard to them until the next three months
were over. Then she received a book list and
a note. The list recorded one history, two
biographies, two volumes of literary criticism,
one of art criticism, one of poetry, one of essays
and one of sociology. The note was brief.
"Miss Julia Roberts, who has been the victim
of a serious attack of the fiction habit, is now
recovering, after a severe course of treatment."
Aunt Isabel, with a pleased look in her eyes,
promptly sent a telegram.
"Warmest congratulations. I'm proud of
you, my dear."?Youth's Companion.
TOLD IN THE DARK.
Leo was in bed. He had said, "Now I lay
mo " tVion lio Vinrl nclro/1 Vna mAttior tnm /Irvum
the light.
Leo was a very lion to face all outside foes.
He was not so brave when face to face with the
little knight of right within him. That was
what mother called his conscience?the little
knight of right.
Mother knew what it meant when Leo asked
to have the light turned out; she sat down on
the bed, and took Leo's hand and said in a tender,
encouraging way:
"Tell mother all about it."
Leo lay very still for some minutes, then he
burst out in a boy's way right in the middle
of the story:
"P'r 'aps you '11 think 'twasn't so?an' I don't
know as I'd believe it myself, only I saw them
with my own eyes?I did, mother! an' you'll
say yes, won't you, mother! I couldn't help it,
really I couldn't?an' she's down in the
kitchen!"
""What was the strange sight, and who is
'she'?"
"Well, it was this way. We boys were coming
home from skating, just dark, an' a cat
scatted across the road, an' all the fellows snowballed
her?I did, too, mother?an' she tried to
squirm through a picket fence pji' got caught
an' cquldn't get through or back, either, an' all
the boys yelled?an' that very minute the East
Enders fired on us from over the wall, an' we
had a reg'lar fight, an' drove 'em all the way
back, just like the minute men that time at
Lexington.
"Then it was dark, an' I came home from the
corner alone. An' alone in the Dine woods?this
is true, mother, 'tis; I saw it with my own eyes
?I saw that kit's face in the dark, in the air?
an' lots of other kittens' faces?the dark was
full of them, an' all the eyes looked at me, so
beggin' like I was so sorry?an'?a little bit
afraid, too?an' I just started and run."
"Did you leave the kitten faces behind you
when you ran hornet" asked mother.
"I didn't run home?I?ran back the road
where we snowballed the kit; an' there was,
stuck fast in the fence, an' mewin' just awful?
an' I got her out an' brought her home, an'?an'
?she'8 down in the kitchen now!"
The .little brown fingers squirmed around mother's
as he went on doubtfully:' * An' you will say
O T fl (823) 7
yes, won't you, mother!?I couldn't help it?I
really couldn't, mother?an' we've only three
other kits, you know?only three, mother!"
Mother lifted the little brown fist and kissed
it. "We will take care of her somehow," she
said.
Leo was very still for the next minute or two,
then he suddenly asked:
"But the faces, mother, the kittens' faces in
the dark?how came they there? Such a many
kits' faces?and such eyes!"
Mother kissed Leo again, this time on his red
lips, as she replied: "Perhaps it was the doing
of the little knight of right!"?Little Men and
Women.
THE LAST HERON.
High above the marshy wastes which border
the Klamath Lakes, in Southern Orpcrnn ? lnno
white heron winged its flights a few months ago,
the sole survivor of a once numerous family.
On broad pinion the snowy survivor of a
former legion floated to the east and then to the
west, farseeing eyes searching vainly each stretch
of lake, land, or sedgy waste for a familiar patch
of white which would betoken the presence of
father, mother, mate, chick or friend.
He saw none, for President Roosevelt had been
too late in setting aside the Klamath district as
a national bird reserve, and the delay had sealed
the fate of the white heron family.
But one is left, according to the officials of the
United States land office and of the National
Audubon societies, just one sample remains of
myriad thousands of one of the most beautiful of
?li ? u:_
cm native uiruH.
The decree of fashion has brought about such
a butchery that biological historians will in future
works record the fact that in A. D. 1908
the white heron followed the great auk over the
dismal trail that stretches backward to the ages
that are gone.?The Technical World.
THE LORD WILL PROVIDE
A mother one morning gave her two little ones
books and toys to amuse them while she went up
stairs to attend to something. A half hour passed
quietly away, when one of the little ones went
to the foot of the stairs, and in a timid voice
cried out "Mamma, are you there?"
"Yes, darling." *
"All right," said the child, and the play went
on. After a little time the voice again cried, "Mama,
are you there?"
"Yes, darling."
"All right," said the child again, and once
more went on with her play.
And this is just the way we should feel toward
Jesus. He has gone up stairs to the right hand of
God to attend to some things for us. He has left
us down in this lower room of the world to be occunied
liero fo? o ?- i *
__r ~ ? nunc, uui iu Keep us irom Being
worried by fear or care, He speaks to us from
His "Word, as that mother spoke to her little ones.
He says to us: "Fear not; I am with thee, Jehovah-jireh,
the Lord will provide."?Ex.
ROYAL BOYS WHO KNIT.
The sous ox tue p. .nee and prince* gj. juufcie-?
have all been taught to knit, says an English
paper, and even tiny Prince Henry can turn
oid a presentab'e scarf. All the brothers of the
princess can aiso use the needles, and various
other exalted personages can boast, the same accomplishment.
Tt is considered an excellent exercise
for the fingers, and the princess prohahlv
thinks that deft fingers are just as desirable
for her boys as for her one little daughter, who
is also skillful with her needle.