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10 A Little Child Shall Lead Them. By MARGARET A. RICHARD. “ Sister is coming home on a visit. She will be here day after to-morrow.” The speaker, a young man, held an open letter in his hand, and there was an expression of mingled pleasure and annoyance on his face, as though he did not know whether to be glad or sorry of expected company. “And the kid?” his brother Tom asked. “Why, of course the child will come too. What else could Sister do but bring her?” The sister thus alluded to had not been home since she had come when summoned to her mother’s death-bed. That was before Kathleen, who was now three years of age, was born. Since then the three lads had been keping “bachelor’s hall,” with an old colored “Auntie” as cook and housekeeper. “Well, we shall have to make the best of it.” John said, folding the letter and putting it back into his pocket. “I only hope Sister will not find us altogether uncivilized. It will seem quite dif ferent to her from what it used to be—not near so home-like, I’m afraid.” “Yes,” acquiesced Tom; “it has never been the same here since mother died. I suppose it never will be.” Henry, the youngest brother, came sauntering up at that moment, and was told of the expected guests. “Humph!” he said; “I shall go out behind the barn to take my meals. I don’t know how to eat with ladies.” It was John w 7 ho met the mother and child next day, and drove them out from the depot. Grace was delighted to be home again, and if she missed the touch of a tasteful woman’s hand in the arrange ment of her room she made no sign. John, remem bering her love of flowers, had gathered some from the garden and put them in a vase on her bureau. He was not an adept in arranging bouquets, but the fact that she had been kindly remembered touched the sister, and she bent over the vase with glad gratefulness. “Pitty, pitty,” said Kathleen, reaching up and trying to touch them. “Yes, very pretty,” said her mama. “Was it not good of Uncle John to get them for us?” “Good Unc’ John!” repeated the child. John, on the piazza, close to the window, heard the childish voice, and his face flushed. Was he good, indeed? He knew he was not what he had been in the old days when his mother was still with him, and especially in his early boyhood, before his sister had left home. “The kid,” as Tom had called Kathleen, was not long in the house before she had won all hearts. Aunt Huldah, the cook, who was glad to have the “young missus” at the farm again, fell quite in love with the child. “I. ’clar’ ter goodness, Miss Grace,” she said; “de lil’ lam’ am des lak you wuz long ’bout ” But Grace interrupted her with a laugh. “Don’t go to naming dates,” she cried. “It makes me remember what I wish to forget, that I am no longer young.” “Now, go ’long wid yo’ foolishness,” the negro protested. “You’s young enough. I ’clar ter grac ious I can’t b’lieve its bin five years since you mar ried en went away—you looks so pert en fresh. En you ain’t bin back once to see us.” “Only once,” said Grace. Then added softly, “When mother died.” At that the old woman shook her head and tears came into her eyes. Grace was sitting on the back piazza, and Kathleen was running about the yard, calling out every now and then something about “when mama was a little girl.” It seemed very wonderful to her that she had come to the house where “mama” had lived, and might see and handle the same things her mother had seen and'handled as a little girl. She was busily occupied now with something that interested her, and did not notice the turn the conversation had taken. Aunt Huldah wiped the tears from her eyes with the corner of her checked gingham apron, as she . The Golden Age for May 31, 1906. said: “Things is changed since ole Miss died Miss Grace. De boys is good, but dey ain’t Christians lak yo’ ma en yo’ pa wuz. I long ter see dat ole fambly Bible open agin, en ter heah de blessed Scripter read lak yo ’ pa used ter read it so ’e he die. En dem prayers—when he kneel down wid all de chillun ’roun’ him, en de ole Miss by his side, en me dar, too—Oh, Miss Grace, dem prayers ho-pe me ter do right. Den when he wuz gone, ole Miss say: ‘Chillun, let us keep up de fambly prayers.’ En she read a psa’m, en den she try ter pray, but she des break down en cry. En soon all de chillun am cry in’, too, en ole Huldah jine her voice in de res’. But soon ole Miss go on wid de prayer, en ebry day atter dat she read and pray, en ho’pe us all ter be good. But since she gone ” Aunt Huldah paused and shook her head, then leant forward and whispered to Grace, as though the truth were too awful to be spoken aloud: “Since she gone de boys don’t eben ask a blessin’ on dey vittles.” “Why, Aunt Huldah!” “Deed, dey don’t.” “But why is that?” “I doan know, ’thout its ’cause they ain’t per ticlar ’bout all eatin’ togedder. One comes, den anoder. When dey all does happen togedder why they des pitches in en eats, ’thout eber sayin’: ‘Bless dis meal.’ ” “I am sorry,” said Grace. But she had no op portunity to say more, for Kathleen came running up, and wanted to know if the big tree by the gate was -where mama’s swing used to be. Grace said yes, and went with the child to show her the very limb from which it was hung. The boys came along just then and declared Kathleen must have one right where mamma’s had been. With much laughter they got it in place, and then, after Kathleen had been sent “high’s the sky,” Grace had to have a swing for “old time’s sake,” and so did each of the boys. With such sport they were amusing themselves and each other -when the supper bell rang, and there was a race for the dining room. When all were seated at the table, there was a pause, Grace remembering what Huldah had said, yet scarce knowing how to proceed without the bless ing she was accustomed to having asked by her hus band. John ended the silence by passing the waf fles to Grace, saying kindly: “Aunt Huldah re membered your fondness for them, and proposed we have some for supper.” Kathleen, who was sitting next to John, looked at him in surprise, then, leaning forward, and put ting a soft little hand on one of his, she said, re proachfully: “You forgot to say grace, Unc John.” The man looked from one to the other of his brothers, an awkward silence ensued. The child, seeming to divine his embarrassment, said gra ciously: “Well, nem mind, Unc John. Des teep ’till; I’ll say drace.” They all bowed their heads, and the babyish voice lisped only: “For Desus’ sake, amen.” After that at each meal she asked the simple blessing, alw 7 ays sitting until each one was at the table before “saying drace,” as she termed it. Hul dah, standing in the kitchen door-way, bowed her head, too, saying within herself, with moist eyes: “Dat’s sho de ole Miss in her, bless her lil’ heart!” It was a long and happy visit the two made, but it came to an end at last. When the boys gathered about the table for the first meal after the departure of their guests, they looked at each other inquiringly, as if to ask: “What now?” Each felt that they could not go back to their careless manner of eating without giving thanks; they had heard that sweet childish “drace” at each meal for so long. It w 7 as John who spoke first. “Boys,” he said, “we needed just such a lesson. We have not hon ored the teaching and example of our parents. Henceforth I shall never taste a meal for which thanks are not given.” “Nor I,” said Tom. “Nor I,” added Tom. “And, boys,” John exclaimed, “I am not worthy, but—if—you—will listen to me, and—and—bear with my mistakes, I will have family prayer every night as mother used to.” “She will be glad, if she knows,” Tow answered. “And father, too,” said Henry. University of the South. (Continued from page 2.) The early history of the University of the South has been dwelt on at this length because it is the most picturesque feature of the institution, and when it is considered that the town, the university build ings, the course of study, the equipment, the col lege library, the University Press, the dormitory system, (connected with the excellent military pre paratory school), the reputation of the instructors, and the commanding place among educational in stitutions throughout the country, which this uni versity holds was all accomplished within a compar atively short time and with almost no fund, it is a subject which bears considerable comment. Appearance of Buildings. The rich yellow mountain stone, so easily procur able at Sewanee, being taken out of the mountain side, with only nominal quarrying, is used exclus ively in the college buildings, and the uniformity of architecture and of material is striking in its ef fects. To the visitor at Sewanee the magnificent library with its wealth of rare volumes, its por traits of distinguished Churchmen and friends of the University is one of the chief points of interest. Here, too, is hung the famous chime of bells whose tones may be heard for miles around. On one of these bells is inscribed the following words, which the chimes voice in music: “Lord, through tins hour, Be Thou our guide, That through Thy power No foot may slide.” The sentiment is especially beautiful and appro priate for the purpose and even the most unthinking student must occasionally pause and echo this voiceless prayer. The University Press is another feature of inter est at Sewanee—most of the Northern Universities have a special press but it is safe to say that none is better equipped or has more modern appliances than that at Sewanee. Most beautiful book work is done here and as the University itself published three magazines—The Sewanee Review( quarterly), The Sewanee Literary Magazine (monthly), and the Sewanee Purple ( daily)—the distinct financial ad vantages of a University Press may be readily seen. A. T. 0. Chapter House. The A. T. 0. Chapter House is yet another fea ture of Sewanee. This Chapter House is one of the most beautiful in the country and has as a distinct ive feature, most exquisite memorial windows erect ed in memory of those members who have “joined the Great Majority,” but the memory of whom is thus kept ever before the friends and associates who are left. It might be thought that this would tend to sadden the gayety of the young members of the A. T. 0. Society, but it has not been found so, for, after all, underlying the pleasure and the work, the effort and attainment at Sewanee, there is the deep abiding faith in “things unseen,” which so filled the hearts of the promoters of the University of the South and which has been carefully instilled into the student body today, for, when all is said the real “essence of knowledge is faith.” The Senate of Massachusetts has offered to con tribute $50,000 to the Jamestowm Exposition on con dition that no discrimination against negroes shall be made at the show. Virginia is not pleased at this condition, especially as Massachusetts was assured in advance that no such discrimination would be made. This action of the Massachusetts Senate may be as unpleasing to that State itself as it can be to Vir ginia.