Newspaper Page Text
July 17, 1912] THE
"I haven't gone yet. If you could give me
enough to do here at home, enough business
that would pay?not in dollars, but in better
things? I might stay.
it was James who bent down to stroke his
Bisters* glossy black hair and say: "We will
try, lassie. Now, let us play that march
again."
The next day at dinner Bemice had something
else to propose.
"It is a state traveling library, father," she
said. "You know the village has no public
library, and everyone has read everything in
town, twice over."
"Where would we put it?" James asked,
after a list of books that Bernice had managed
to unearth had been discussed
The girl had a plan ready: "If you boys
could crowd up a little in that big room where
you have your wood carving and various experiments,
some shelves could be built under
those high west windows. I will pay for the
shelves out of Aunt Bernice's money, and I'll
tend the library one afternoon of each week,
if you boys will one evening."
They all vaguely felt that there had been a
change wrought in Bernice?a change that
would mean much to them all. Guy cried:
"Bernice, you're a brick! But what will
I you get out of it?"
"The undying gratitude or uie next generation
of book-hungry girls. In time our plan
will grow dp to a public library."
"I believe you are right, daughter," Mr.
Merdith said, gravely. "This plan of yours
will mean much to the village."
A week later the Merdiths' pastor called at
the house to offer Bernice the position of
church organist. At first she was inclined to
refuse.
"I am not sure, Mr. Brady, that I am competent,"
and the girl's bright face took on
a sober expression. "You see I stopped my
lessons because I was intending to do something
else. Something I have been sorry;
music helps one to do so much for others."
It ended in her taking the place. The salary
was small, but it enabled her to go into
the city fortnightly for a lesson from an excellent
teacher.
"And I am going to give those little McReady
girls lessons, free of charge; their parents
cannot afford to pay for them," she confided
to her mother.
That winter proved the worth of the traveling
il-- ' ~
?c ?ui iu me town, some books on
the early history of the state roused so much
enthusiasm that meetings were called to collect
pioneer data of that county. Mr. Ellis,
i wealthy lumberman, who lived in the nearby
city, attended one of the meetings, talkmg
to the people of his native town with
touch interest.
Some of the girls asked Bernice to join an
embroidery class. She deplored the fact that
ehe could embroider much better than she
could do plain sewing. The class was formed to
learn to sew. For a teacher they selected?
''ousin 'Manda. She had little to occupy her
time, and w?? ?n _h_ ^"
, une needlewoman.
The rule that the girls imposed upon themRelves?that
there should be no gossip?bore
hard on Cousin 'Manda at first, but soon her
days came to be filled with work for and
thought for others.
Tt was not until the next autumn that the
village had a Home-coming "Week. On the
fii*st day Bernice stayed at home in the forenoon,
helping her mother prepare for the many
Ruests whom they expected on the afternoon
train. At dinner, Mr. Merdith said:
"Daughter, Mr. Ellis: was in to see me this
* V
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SC
morning. It will be announced this afternoon
that he is to give the town a library?a building
and a thousand volumes. It is to be a memorial
to his mother."
A chorus of delightful cries went up from
round the table. After a little Mr. Merdith
went on:
"Mr. Ellis says the traveling library sug
gcsted the idea to him. And, Berniee, he asked
that you help select the books."
"He will have to wait until this week is over
for any of your help," Kenneth declared.
"You know you are to be ready at three to
accompany the Merdith-Hubbard orchestra.
This affair, and almost everything else in the
village, is your business, Berniee."?Zion's
Herald.
ROBERT MCINTYRE'S FIRST BATTLE.
Robert Mclntyre was once a poor boy apprenticed
to a bricklayer in Philadelphia. He
has risen to the position and influence of a
. bishop in the Methodist Episcopal Church. A
yycciv ur two ago ne turned aside from other
duties to spend a Sunday in the city where he
had his first great trial and won his first great
victory. While there he told of that event in
his life. He said:
"I came to Philadelphia today because I
wanted to pay tribute to a man long dead and
gone. More than forty years ago I was a boy
in Hunter's mill. My overseer was Prank Ferguson,
whose memory I shall ever revere. I
remember one winter when a revival was in
progress along Lancaster Pike, the influence
of which spread to the mill in which I was employed.
It was then that Mr. Ferguson took
me into a temperance meeting held at Fiftysecond
street and Lancaster Pike, and at his
suggestion, I took a pledge to abstain at all
times from taking alcoholic 'beverages.
"Shortly after that my father informed me
that it was time to choose a trade. Some of
my chums had gone into brieklavinc so T hp.
lected that. One night my father came home
and told me he had apprenticed me to a certain
bricklayer by the name of George. Almost immediately,
however, he regretted his action, as
the man was known to be of intemperate habits.
My father's health was declining, and we
all knew that the time was near at hand when
my mother and my brothers and sisters would
have to depend on what money I could earn.
"On the following day I began my apprenticeship.
The noon hour arrived and my boss
said: 'Bobby, throw away that water and take
the bueket over to the saloon. Tell the bartender
you came from me and he will fill the
bucket with beer.' I did as he instructed me.
Then, upon. my return, I saw that the men,
while eating lunch, sat in a row and began
passing the bucket with beer from man to man.
The boss drank first, and I took my place at
the end of the line. I was praying that one of
the hod-carriers, bricklayers or boys would refuse
to drink, and therefore give me courage
for the step I was contemplating, but not one
of them refused. Finally the bucket came to
me. 'I don't want any,' I whispered to the
boy who handed it, but he urged me on. The
boss was watching and thought I was shy. 'Go
ahead and drink, Bobby,' he said, encouragingly.
'I pay for the beer and every man who
works for me is entitled to his share. Drink,
lad, drink.'
" 'I don't like it, sir,' I said rather weakly.'
"He laughed heartily and told me that I
would never make a bricklayer till T learned
to drink beer. By that time all of the men
were joking at me. Somehow or other I got
on my feet and walked over down the line until
I stood in front of the boss.
>U T H r (845) 7 I
" 'I'm only a poor boy,' I said, 'and I want
to learn my trade. If you send me home now
I shall feel disgraced, but I'll have to go if
you insist on my drinking this beer. I can't
do it, Mr. George.'
"To my amazement the boss jumped to his
feet and grasped my hand. 'God bless you,
Robert; stick to that and you will make a man
of yourself' he Said. Then turning to the
others: 'If I hear of one of you men urging
this boy to drink against his will, I will discharge
you on the spot,' he said. That was
how I won the first of my battles in life, and I
owe it all to Frank Ferguson, the man who
took the trouble to befriend a homeless boy."
?Northwestern Christian Advocate.
THE CRICKET AND THE LION.
One day the lion was out walking in the
woods. As he was stepping near an old rot
1~~ l- - 1 J -
fcoii ivg, ixc ucitru a imy voice say: **<Jh, please
don't step there. That's my house, and with
one step more you will destroy it."
The lion looked down and saw a little cricket
sitting on a log. He roared: "And it is you,
weak little creature, that dares tell me where
to step? Don't you know I am the king of
beasts?"
"You may be the king of beasts, but I am
the king of my house; and I don't want you
to break it down king or no king."
The lion was amazed at such daring.
"Don't you know, you little weakling, that
I could smash you and your little house and
all your relatives with one blow of my paw?"
"I may be weak, but I have a cousin no higher
than I who can master you in a fight."
"Oho! 0, 0!" laughed the lion. "Well,
little boaster, you have that cousin here torpnrrnTO
onil V>a J ~ ? ? *- * """
, ?x.xx ix xxc uucs iiul master me I'll
crush you and your house and your cousin all
together."
The next day the lion came back to the
same spot and roared: "Now, boaster, bring
on your valiant cousin!"
Pretty soon he heard a buzzing near his ear.
Then he felt a stinging. "0! O!" he cried.
"Get out of my ear!"
But the cricket's cousin, the mosquito, kept
on singing and stinging. With every sting
the lion roared louder and scratched his ear
and jumped around. But the mosquito kept on
singing and stinging. The cricket sat on the
log and looked on. At last he said:. "Mr.
Lion, are you satisfied to leave my house
alone t"
"Yes, anything, anything," roared the lion,
"if you will only get your cousin out of my
ear!"
So the cricket called the mosquito off, and
then the lion went away and never bothered
them any more.?Oood Housekeeping.
Dear Presbyterian: I am a little girl seven
years old. I go to Sunday school at Tinkling
Spring. I like to go when I know my lesson. I
have two bantam hens and five little baby bantams.
My sister has a pony that I can ride. I
want to surprise my grandma and grandpa, so
please publish this.
Your little girl,
Fisherville, Va. Virginia Paul.
Dear Presbyterian : I am a boy ten years old.
The name of our church is Union. I cro to S-nn
day school every Sunday I can. Mrs. R. H. Dudley
is my teacher. Rev. Wm. White is our pastor.
I have four brothers and two sisters. This
is my first letter and I hope it will not reach the
waste-basket. Your friend,
Staunton, Va. Harry Sherman.