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6 (222) " " THE!
! Our Boys
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CALEB'S PARTNERS.
BY SYDNlf* DAYRE.
Caleb was sitting on a bench at the roadside
of a country village. Robert, a boy who lived
near, stopped at seeing him.
"Why, hello," lie said, "we don't often see
you sitting down, except," he added, with a
laugh, "at a desk in school."
"I've just fed the horses," said Caleb. "I
came in on a load with father. I shan't be
sitting long, for we're beginning to cut corn
and he's in a hurry to get back."
"I'm waiting to take the train out to the
lake shore," said Robert. "There's a balloon
ascension, and I tell you it's a lark to go.
Crowds and hands and all sorts of doings.
Where you* heen all summer, anyway? I've
scarcely see you since school closed."
"Oh. same old place?doing the same old
things. Feeding stock, dropping corn, hoeing
potatoes and such."
"Well, I shouldn't have seen much of you
wherever you'd been," said Robert, with
rather a superior air. "I've been traveling
most of the time, you know. ITad no end of
good times up in the Adirondaeks and into
Canada. It's fine, I tell you, to be off in the
mountains, building camp fires and tenting and
fishing. And then we went down to Boston
and tnnlr in ilin elmnro Uiaxa Tl?n* nr?. * ''
%><v u.?w ? o i iiv/i c, i net i/ uaa vm.
Caleb looked nt him, trying to imagine how
it must seem to be a hoy who eould do all these
splendid things. To travel in trains, night and
day; to go to bed on a train and then wake up
in the morning; to go into the fine diners .iust
as if you were in a hotel?and be going all the
time. How he would like it himself. ITow lit
tie prospect there was that he should ever do
the like?at least while he was a hoy.
"There's my train?good-bye." Again Caleb
tried to fancy himself in the place of the
boy to whom so many good things came.
"It seems hardly fair." It was only half a
thought?perhaps more of it might have come
but for a man who sat on the further side of
the bench; a man with a pleasant face?one
who gave out the idea that he had not quite
forgotten that he himself had once been a boy.
He spoke to Caleb.
"So you live on a farm, my boy, do yout"
"Yes, close to town here. Lived there all
my life." It came in rather a discontented
voice.
"I always wanted to live on a farm," went
on the man. "I always felt that it isn't just
living to we people who live in towns, and just
go jog-trotting from close houses to close business
places over hard pavements, living the
same kind of dull lives every day. "Why, on a
farm things are new and different all the time.
There isn't a field or a tree or a flower that
looks the same day after day. They grow and
grow, and every day they show some new
beauty."
"AVhy, so they do," said Caleb, brightening.
"Ana men in your worn you nave sucn gooa
partners."
"Partners?" Caleb did not quite understand.
"Yes, to work with you. The sun shines
for you, the rain and the dew fall, and the
soft winds do their share. The good, rich
earth, too. All good partners."
"Why, so they are," said Caleb, looking
quite delighted.
? -
PRESBYTERIAN OF THE 8(
pin a r, irlc
X X V-4. X- XXX
"When you get your crop in, how they all
set out to make it. grow. You can watch it
day after day as it goes 'on to its beautiful
perfection."
"Yes, yes." Caleb's face shone.
' ' Tllpn T olnratra 4) % ah#?!?4- ???J T ?1- ?xill
U4?? ttJO lIIVU^IIlj illiU X llliUH Stilly
it must be very nice to have to do with animals?poor,
dumb creatures that you can be
kind to and teach to love you."
"That's what they do," said Caleb, eagerly.
"They all know when I call. And the chickens
eat out of my hand. And there's a pony
that follows me all over."
"Exactly. They work with you and you
repay them by kind treatment. Yes, I think
1 would like to be a boy on a farm."
"There's father," said Caleb, springing up.
"Good-bye, sir."
As he rode the short distance behind the
slow horses he looked about him with new eyes.
Certainly there was something in all he had
heard. Never before had he thought of all the
good things which were working with him and
for him. The corn leaves waved in the wind
their promise of bounty; the trees, just putting
on their autumn tints, whispered of nutting
frolics in store. All through the autumn
would come the rich gathering of good things
paying for work faithfully done.
"I guess, after all," Caleb concluded to
himself, "it isn't so bad working with such
partners." And with a few thoughts, which
he could not have expressed in words, of a
great Hand which moved and governed the
kindly co-workers, Caleb went on with a light
heart to his home.?ITrrald and Presbyter.
THE BOY WHO SAID NO! TO HIMSELF.
lie was a little fellow, and very fond of a
beautiful plant which stood on the table in his
mother's room; but his mother had taught
him to let it alone. One day when she was not
at home, he went into the room and stood by
the table, looking at the plant. I happened to
be in the next room, where I could see him;
but he did not know that.
As I watched him I knew that he was thinking
for his face was a little battlefield. The
plant was so pretty! It would be so nice just
to put his fingers on the soft, tender leaves, to
touch the lovely flowers! And he could do it
so easily, for no one was there to hinder. But
he remembered what his mother had said and
so the battle was on. How I wondered which
side would win! After a little I heard him
say: "No, no! Herbert! No, no." And then
hp tumnil o\nn,, V - l-- e ' 1 "* * "
. u..uj. iuu s e, ne lougni 11 out ail
by himself, unless God helped him. And I am
sure God did. God loves to help a child.
Wasn't it a victoryt He was learning to
master himself. And how did he come to win
the fight?a fight that many a man has lost J
His mother had taught him to say No! to himself.
If he had learned only to obey her voice,
whnt. wnnlrl lmv? ?1.*
.. ?^ nuj/i^-iicu wnen sne was not
there T But she had done much more than
that. She had not stopped with controlling
him; she had taught him to control himself,
lie will thank God for all his life for that.?
Ex.
A noble life is loftiest patriotism. The hope
of the State is the character of its citizens.
There can not be a good nation whose people
are small, selfish and sordid. Just to be good
is to be patriotic.
) U T H [March 12, 1{)13
THE CUCKOO.
There is a little wandering bird, known to
many countries, called the European cuckoo.
A sort of gypsy bird is he, never building himself
a home. . . N n
We always suspect wandering people Who
never care to have a home of their own, and
when we see Mrs. Cuckoo laying an egg in
some other bird's nest, we naturally shake our
heads and say: 44Shame,, shame! Lazy Mother
Cuckoo." These eggs have been found in the
robin's nest, in the skylark's, and in the wagtail's
nest, but more often they have been
found in the nest of the humble hedge sparrow.
Craftv old Mother Cuckoo, ahvavs on th?
wateh, sees little Mother Sparrow building her
nest. "When the house is completed, and the
little eggs are all laid, away she goes to sail
Father Sparrow to inspect their new home, or
provide a breakfast. Down flies lazy old
Mother Cuckoo, and lays an egg in the nest of
Mrs. Sparrow. It seems strange that one big,
brown cuckoo egg in with the little, delicate
blue eggs does not attract the attention of
Mother Sparrow.
She must be dull-witted. When Mother Sparrow
returns, she sees that big, strange egg,
but instead of turning it out, she sits upon
them all. In due time, the eggs are all hatched,
four or five little sparrows and one big stranger.
The sparrow family and this alien grow up
together, but soon, very soon, the cuckoo is
A. !lL L<- v * .1
uut suusneu wnn nis snare 01 tne uny nest?
remember, he is a big fellow. Just as he wants
all the nest room, so he wants all of the attention
of Mother Sparrow.
So, as soon as lie is big and strong enough,
he drives out all the little sparrows from their
rightful home, and away from their own mother's
care. Sometimes their little wings or necks
are broken as they fall to the ground. And
then, alas! Mother Sparrow learns she has
Dcen imposed upon, and all she has left of her
little family is not her genuine offspring, but
a big foster child of the cuckoo family. But
it is too late.
How many are like that old Mother Sparrow?
Satan is ever alert to slip one of his
evil thoughts into our hearts, and like the cuckoo's
egg, it bears fruit. When you find one
little evil thought that will surely mature later
on, cast it out, or it will breed unhappiness and
sin. The person who tells white lies will soon
be telling them as black as tar, for, like the
links that bind together a chain, so one sin
drags another after it.
Do you know how that wonderful bridge was
built across the St. Lawrence river, above Niagara
Falls! First they flew a kite across the
river, with a fine string attached to it; with
that string they pulled across a piece of cord,
and with the cord a piece of wire, with the
wire a rope, and with the rope a cable; and so
the great bridge finally was built. So little
sins, almost invisible, are followed by larger
ones, until finally the little sins are linked into
a chain.
Of course, you can not help being tempted,
but you can put the evil thoughts out of your
heart as soon ns thcv r?nmA Anrl nnt lonwfl tlw?m
- ? ?. J ~ ?V -VK *VU f V> V4*vw
there to be hatched into the habits that will
spoil-your life and grieve your beloved mother.
Isn't that true? "With a girl, it is often love of
dress, vanity and admiration that -blights her
young, precious life. With a boy, it may be
a wrong idea of manliness, a dislike for the
restraints of school, and a love for the brook
ana nsning rod. Kcracraber, whatever it is,
do not weld together the links of a ehain that
you would later gladly dispose of. Then again,
you are much better off than the sparrow, because
they have only their poor little wits and
such tiny little strength.