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Jesus Christ by our effort. A man says “I am go ing to take up my cross, ’ ’ and he gets down and looks like he is going to die when he gets up. He says I am going to follow Jesus, I know I will have a hard time at it, but I am going to follow Him, and he starts out trying, and succeeds for a while, but afteraw’hile, down he goes. Why is this? It is because he does not surrender his will and get under the will of the Master. Jesus wants to spiritually hypnotize us; then what is God’s will is our will, and wherever He goes we go, and what ever He tells us to do, we will do. The things hith erto that have been our cross, we will find to be our pleasure. My brethren I want to get to the place in my spiritual life where I shall be so under the influence of Jesus Christ that my service for Him will be a service involuntarily rendered; so that when Jesus points out a thing, I will, the moment I see it, do it. What then is the secret of a genuine disciple? It is a Surrendered Will. A will given over to and mastered by Jesus Christ. And when once that thing is done, the whole Chris tian life becomes a thing without effort, without struggle, without a cross. But what is the cross? It is not the piece of wood on which Jesus died; the cross had its begin ning in the garden of Eden when man’s will crossed God’s will. There is the cross, and now Jesus Christ comes to us and says, “deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me.” Wliy? Because I am your Master; when I speak you must obey; but that cross can not be taken up so long as the will is unsur rendered. The minute we give Jesus Christ our will absolutely, there is no cross. Everything from that moment that Jesus commands is done with delight. It is no struggle to take up the cross and follow Jesus when the will is surrendered to Him. This is a sane Gospel. It is a gospel men will re spect, for Jesus is either Lord and Master or he is nothing. The Children’s Summer Trip. A STORY FOR LITTLE ONES. By JUNIUS W. MILLARD. My dear children:—Once upon a time there were two—but, I forgot that I was writing a letter, and started out to write a story instead. Well, I guess I had just as well go on the way I began. All right, Ithen. Once upon a time there were two of the dear est children who took it into their heads that they would leave their old father for a while and play a joke on him, and make a trip into the forest and seek their fortune. One -was a little boy with fair face and golden hair, who was called “ Silkenlocks. ” The other was just the finest and sweetest little girl you ever saw, and her hair was bobbed, and she had deep blue eyes, and she was called “Fair Angel.” Well, when they left they said, “We will put away our things, so that our father won’t think about us, and so they gathered up all their toys and play-things and put them away, and one day they struck out for the woods, taking along with them their pet kitten, named “Sugar.” But no sooner were they gone than their father began to think about them, and to miss them. At 'the table, when he sat down to his dinner, he saw /the chairs they used to sit in, and the chairs and he had many a talk about the children. And one day the cook placed at his plate his son’s spoon, with his name engraved on the handle “Silken locks.” And on the back-porch w’as a great, big hobby-horse, and every time that father saw it, he felt like crying, because he missed his son so much. And he saw a little picture-book belonging to lit tle Miss “Fair-angel,” and he and the book had a long talk together about that little lady. And everywhere he went something about the house would talk to him either about the little boy or the little girl, and he did miss them so. And what about the little folks? Oh well, they went out into the big woods, and after a while lit tle Fairangel said to her brother, “Oh, brother, I am so hungry.” He said, “I don’t know where The Golden Age for July 12, 1906. we will find anything to eat. ’ ’ And the little kitten, Sugar, said: “Meow, meow, meow, just follow me now. As I’m a sinner, I’ll find you dinner.” And they followed Sugar, and sure enough, under a tree they found a nice hot dinner, with bread and butter and jam, and peach ice-cream. After dinner, little Silken-locks said to his sister, “Oh, sister, we had not thought about where we will sleep tonight.” But sugar said: “Meow, meow, meow, follow me now. I’ll catch a mouse, and find a house.” No sooner said, than a litte mouse ran across the road, and Sugar pounced upon it, and caught it. The mouse begged the kitten to let it alone, and Sugar said: “ Meow, meow, meow, listen to me now. You find a bed, or I’ll kill you dead.” The little mouse started out and brought them to the cutest little place under some wheat straw, and opening the door, led them into her own house. But Sugar, before going in, stood on her hind legs, and said: “Meow, meow, meow, hear me now. This nest of a mouse must change to a house.” No sooner said, than the little nest changed into a fine large house, with a front porch all painted green, and the wheat straw changed into a great, big grove of the finest trees you ever saw. And in the house there was a fine supper waiting, and two little beds, all made up, and after eating sup per they went to bed, and slept all night long, and dreamed about their father. Next morning when they woke up, where do you suppose they were? Why, they were at their grand-father’s in Kentucky and their grandmother woke them up, and gave them some oat-meal, and they saw her fix the dairy things, and they helped her feed the chickens, and Aunt Becky had some young turkeys. And Uncle Ben took little Silken llocks with him down to the barn, and out to the field, and they had the finest time that ever was. Now, wasn’t it a fine thing they took Sugar along? Do you know who Sugar was? It was their mother, for she didn’t w T ant them to get lost, and so she. went with them, and being a fairy, she changed herself into a little kitten, so they wouldn’t know who she was. And how about the father? Oh, well, he stayed behind, and tried to get along as best he could, but he misses his “Sugar” and his Silken-locks and his Fair-angel very much indeed. Don’t you think his little children ought to write to him while they are away? Your Devoted Father. The Sunny Side of the Street. There are only two kinds of people in the world —the people who live in the shadow and gloom and those who live on the sunny side of the street. These shadowed ones are sometimes called pessi mists; sometimes people of melancholy tempera ment; sometimes they are called disagreeable peo ple; but, wherevere they go, their characteristic is this: their shadow always travels on before them. These disagreeable people travel forward envelop ed with gloom and hopelessness. One of them was in the Subway last Wednesday when the tunnel was full of smoke from a burning fuse. That man will carry the odor of smoke in his conversation, to ter rify his friends, for the next ten years. One man was ungrateful to him, and henceforth he will represent the whole world as made up of ungrateful wretches. Having read the new book on “The Menace of Privilege,” henceforth this man will represent plutocracy and corporations as hanging over New York as the day of judgment hung over Sodom. These people never bear their own burdens, but expose all their wounds to others. They are so busy looking dowm for pitfalls and sharp stones and thorns on which to step that they do not even know that there are any stars in the sky. These folk live on the wrong side of the street. And yet it is only twenty feet across to the other sidewalk, where sunshine always lies.—Newell Dwight Hillis. CHRISTIA 7V PA TRIOTISM. By GEN. CLEMENT A. EVANS, (Extract from the patriotic speech of Rev. F. J. McConnell, D. D., at recent Memorial services at General Grant’s Tomb.) “In the final approach to complete understand ing there is certainly a common basis for both North and South. We should not allow the South to outdo us in admiration for the bravery of the southern soldier. The world has never seen greater heroism than that of the rank and file of the armies of the Confederacy. Who can read, for example, the story not only of the campaigns, but of the hardships of the army of northern Virginia, without being amaz ed beyond all expression at the story of surpassing devotion to an ideal? We can agree, too, in paying tributes of praise to the genius of the southern lead ers. We should all be proud of Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. Os course we reserve the right to discuss, in a perfectly friendly way, the respect ive abilities of northern and southern leaders, but our admiration need not be confined to the leader ship of the North. “Once more we all join in undying respect for the devotion of the entire southern people to a cause as sacred as life itself to them. We do not speak of the southern people as traitors or as sinners. We recognize the absolute sincerity of the belief of the mass of the people in their cause. The belief in their cause had come to them out of the past centuries. Who of us dare to say that if he had been born south of Mason and Dixon’s line, of southern ancestry, he would not have been a defend er of slavery and an upholder of secession. Espe cially do we find words failing us when we think of the sacrifices which the southern women cheerfully accepted for their cause. We have read how the women of Carthage, in the long ago, consented to give the hair of their heads to be made into bow strings. It is said on good authority that the pro posal was once made that the women of the confed eracy sell their hair for the benefit of the southern armies and if the proposition had been seriously urged the women of the South would not have shrunk from precisely the same sacrifice for which we remember the women of Carthage. “Someone asks, ‘But what about the confederate flag?’ My answer is at hand: ‘Let the confeder ate flag not be put out of sight or memory of Amer ican citizens.’ It does not stand today for a sec ond republic, but it should stand as a beautiful symbol of complete devotion to an honest conviction. Too many glorious associations cling to it to allow us to put it away. If it is not treason for the Eng lish-born American citizen to display the English flag beside the Stars and Stripes, it ought not be unworthy for the southern veteran to cherish the flag which he followed for four years of glorious battle, along with that other flag to which he now gives his hearty and patriotic allegiance.” Benj. H. Hill’s Tribute to Gen. Robert E. Lee. “When the future historian shall come to survey the character of Lee he will find it rising like a huge mountain above the undulating plain of humanity, and he must lift his eyes toward Heaven to catch its summit. He was a foe without hate, a friend without treachery, a soldier without cruelty, a victor without oppression, a victim without murmuring. He was a public officer without vices, a izen without wrong, a neighbor without reproach, a Christian without hypocricy, and a man without guile. He was a Caesar without his ambition, Fred erick without his tyranny, Napoleon without his selfishness, and Washington without his reward. He was obedient to authority as a servant, and royal in authority as a true king. He was as gentle as a woman in life, modest and pure as a virgin in thought, watchful as a Roman vestal in duty, sub missive to law as Socrates and grand in battle as Achilles.”—From Page 439, Vol. 1, Messages and Papers of the Confederacy. 5