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6 (1420) THE
Our Boys
THE BRAVE FISHERGIRL.
On the coast ot' Normandy, near Grandville,
the rise and fall of the tide are very great, being
about forty-four feet at .spring tide;. It comes
in very rapidly, ami in particular piaees may
r? seen making up in a great wave two or three
feet high. In a hook on Norway, the following
adventure is narrated of two English gentlemen
:
They had been out on the sands watching the
manner in which sandeels were caught, and examining
the structure of the rocks, which were
like sponges, when of a sndden one of them,
whose name was Cross, shouted:
"I forgot the tide, and here it comes!"
His companion, whose name was Hope, turned
toward the sea. and saw a stream of water
running at a rapid rate, and replied quickly:
"I suppose we hod better be off."
"If we can," replied Cross, "by crossing the
rocks we may yet be in time."
They began to scramble up the rocks and
walked as fast as they could toward the nearest
shore: but it was some time before they reached
the highest point. On gaining it. they looked
around, and saw that the sand was not yet covered,
though lines of blue water, here and there,
showed how fast it was rising. Thej' hastened
on, but had not gone far when they found that
the sand was now in narrow strips, with .sheets
of water between, but seeing a girl before them
who was familiar with the beach, they cried:
"We shall do it yet." and ran forward.
The girl, however, instead of going towards
the shore, was running to meet them, and al
mo^t out of breath. cried:
"The wave! the wave! it is coming! Turn,
turn, run. or we arc lust!"
They did turn, and saw out at sea a large
wave rolling toward the shore. Out of breath
as they were, they yet increased their speed as
they retraced their steps toward the rocks they
had just left. The little girl had passed them
and led the way. The two friends strained
every nerve to keep pace with her, for as they
neared the rock the wave still rolled towards
them, the sand becoming gradually covered.
Their last few steps were knee-deep in water.
"Quirk1 quick!" said the girl; "there is the
passage to cross, and if the second wave comes
we shall he too late!"
She ran on for a hundred yards till she came
to a, crack in the rock six or seven feet wide.
along which the water was rushing like a mill
sluice.
"We are last'" said the girl; "I cannot
cross, there is a pnsage to cross; it will carry me
away."
"Is it deep!"
"Not very." she said; "but it is too strong.'
Cross lifted the srirl in his arms, plunged into
the stream, and, though the water was up to his
waist, lie was soon acrass. His companion followed.
and all thr?*e stood on the rock.
"Come on. pnmf on!" cried the girl; "we are
nearly lost!" and she led the way to the highest
point of the rocks. and on reaching it. cried.
"We are safe now!"
All were thoughtful for a moment, as they
saw the danger which God had delivered them
from; looking around, the sand was one sheet of
water.
"We are quite safe here," said the girl; "but
we shall have to stay three or four hours before
4
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SOI
111 1 " - - and
Girls
* ? ? nms-% i.? Al- ? ?I ? ? ' '
?c u?ii gu iu nit* snore.
"What made you forget the tide?" said c
Cross; "you must know the coast well."
"I did not forget it," she replied; "but I 1
feared as you were strangers you would be
' drowned, and I ran back to tell you what to
do." 1
V
"And did you risk your life to save ours""
<nid II?pe, the tears starting to his eyes.
"I thought at any rate I should get here,"
she. replied; "but I was very nearly too late."
Hope took the little girl in his arms and kissed
her, and said, "We owe you our lives, you
brave little maid.,v
Meanwhile the water was rising rapidly, till it
almost touched their feet.
"There is no fear," said the girl; "the points
of the rocks are always dry."
"Cold comfort.' said Hope, looking at them,
"but what shall we do for our young friend?" '
he said to Mr. Cross.
"If wc put all the money in our pocket into
a handkerchief and tie it around her neck, it '
will warm her, I warrant, for she looks cold 1
enough." One of them had twenty, and the
other seventeen francs, and binding these in a
knot, Mr. Hope passed it round her neck. On
receiving it she blushed with delight, kissed '
both their hands, and cried:
"How happy mother will be!"
Just then a wave rolled past, and the water
oeg?n to nin along the little platform they were
sitting upon; they rose and mounted on the 1
rooky points, and had scarcely reached them
when the water war. a foot deep where they had
just been seated. Another wave came?th?
water was within six inches of their feet.
"It is a terrible high tide," said the girl; but '
if we hold together we shall not l>e washed 1
away." 1
On looking to the shore, they saw a great
many people clustering together on the nearest 1
point; a faint sound of eheors was heard, and 1
:nev could see hats and handkerchiefs waved to 1
(hem. 1
"The tide has turned," said the girl, "and *
they are shouting to cheer us."
She was right: in five minutes the place was ]
dry. * '
They had some hours to wait before they could '
venture on the sand, and it was quite dark he- 1
fore they reached the beach; hut at length, !
guided by the lights on shore, they gained their
own home in safety, not unmindful of him who (
says to the proud waves. "Hitherto shalt thou 5
come and no further, and here shall thy proud ;
waves be stayed." The friends handsomely re- <
warded the little fisher-girl, whose names was
Matilda, for her hrnv^rv?n??
7 -- _ - . ?,-??? iu VOO&/IJ/1;t\
1
BIRD HOUSES. 1
There was much chirping about the young 1
apple trees and shrubbery in the Brown yard ?
It was last of "February, and the birds were <
twittering and shaking their little noddles wise- 1
. ly. 1
"I think they are planning their nests." said I
Oliver to Alv'.n. "You know how papa and <
mamma talked and discussed about, their new 1
home, when they were planning it, and how i
hanpy we all were." I
"Yes. acquiesced Alvin. 1
"Well'" said Oliver, with finality in his ?
roeech <
J T H (January 1, 1913
The boys left their play in the yard, and ran
nto the room where their mother sat at a winlow,
in the warm sunshine, at work.
<.v.. :n ? --1 1
iuu mil uiiu M'vcrai empiy uaimeui unses
>n the pantrv shelf, I saved on purpose," said
drs. Brown, after a short conversation.
"We will have them ready when papa comes,''
ried the hoys, running to get the boxes.
The round signatures were cut from each hox.
naking a nice little door for the birds to enter.
The boys hunted up cord and twine strings,
ind when their father came, at noon, he helped
hem tie the boxes securely in the forks of the
ihmb trees, so that the wind or rain could not
hake or dislodge them,
"Wh;\t nice, sheltered little houses!" said Mr.
drown, when he had completed liis work.
And it was hardly done, when two enrions
bluebirds flew to one and peeped into the little
ceess. and flew away, rejoicing over their secret.
The boys watched eagerly the building of the
urds during the pleasant spring days, for blue?
>irds, wrens and sparrows built nests?for their
ilue and white-and-brown speckled eggs, which
lie littie Browns peeped at often, held up in
lieir father's arms, but never touched.
Tt was interesting, too?the wee. downy little
urdlings that came from the eggs?to see the
">arent birds flitting to and fro. busily hunting
vorms and feedins? their vonncr which wpre al
.vnvs ready with wide-open mouths.
There was hut one cruel foe. Stray eats never
bothered; but a hungry bluejav perched before
me of the nests, one day, and made a royal dinjor
of the bluebirds' young.
Alvin saw it. "poking its head in and out. of
fhe box." from the window, wondering, but
never thinking that the blnejay wan a robberbird.?Baptist
Bnt/s and Girls.
CttTTTCTSTNO FATHER AND MOTHER.
At a certain stacre in the life of many of our
rnnn<r nonpte thev rail into an unpleasant habit
if eritiei?incr their parents. Occasional lapses
in TCncrlish. trival errors in scholarship?hislorieal.
literary, scientific, or what not?"oldFashioned
ideas" in matters of taste, dre?s. manners,
and soeial nsacres. are freely eommented
nnon. When dauehters set to know more than
their mothers and sons becrin to pive points to
lheir fathers, there is friction in the family machinery
which canses many an unpleasant jar.
This does not mean that onr vounp folks arc
intentionally mde and ill-mannered. Such
inbits creep upon them unconsciously. They
lo not mean to he disloyal or ungrateful to the
parents whom they really love devotedly. They
ire merely careless and unthinking in the matter.
On their side the parents often feel too
lee ply hurt by these criticisms to remonstrate
igainst them. They suffer many indignities in
^lenee when it would be wiser to administer the
leserved rebuke.
Each generation enjoys privileges unknown
ko the one preceding?hotter schools, larger opportunities
for general culture, and n mnm onm
alicated social life. The roils and daughters
ivho profit by these good things have their parents
to thank for them. Tt would he "more hemming"
in them, as the old-time phrase has it.
o remember their debt of gratitude rather than
o look for blemishes. The ideal relation between
parent and child is that of perfect
mmradeship. When parents keep in touch with
heir children's interests, and children confide
r rpfl r 111 Uinif no t.on te ?' 11
J ... ...... |.nini'in, 11 ri 111111I V IflfTIlS lH T.n'*
iome. TTappv the family whose daughters are
heir mother's friends, and whose sons are father's
chums.?E. M. TT., in Christian Intelliqanr5f.
*