Stories Worth Rereading

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At five o'clock the next morning, she, Sissy, close beside her, and Tommy,
in a little cot at the farther end of the room, were all sound asleep.
Suddenly the walls of the big tenement-house began to sway from side to
side in the strangest manner, and there was at the same second a terrible
crashing noise. The kitchen table in the corner tipped over, and the dishes
in the corner cupboard slid to the floor and went to pieces. The big
wardrobe, which was a bureau and a clothes-closet all in one, moved out
into the middle of the room, and the stove fell down. All these things
happened so fast, and the earth was full of such strange, wild noises, that
for a second nobody knew what was the matter.

Tommy Carter got to his mother's side before the noise was over, but he
found that she could not stir; her bed was covered with bricks, and there
was a great hole in the wall. Tommy did not know it then, but he understood
afterward that the chimney had fallen on his mother's bed.

"Tommy," she gasped, "it is an earthquake! Take Sissy and run."

"But, mother," he cried, "O mother, I cannot leave you!"

"Never mind me, Tommy; take her quick! She is not hurt. Maybe there will be
another. Tommy? you take care of Sissy! _Run_!"

And Tommy ran, with just the little shirt on in which he had been sleeping,
and with an old quilt that his mother's hands had wrapped around the
sleeping baby.

What an awful street was that into which he ran! What an awful road he had
to go to get to it! Part of the side wall of the house was gone, and the
stairs swayed from side to side as he stepped on them; but he reached the
street, and it looked as if everything on it had tumbled down, and all the
people in the world were running about, wringing their hands, and crying.
Then suddenly an awful cry arose, "Fire! Fire! Fire!"

"Mother! O mother!" Tommy screamed, and he hurried to scramble back over
the fallen walls by which he had come. He must take care of his mother. But
a strong hand held him.

"Keep away, youngster. Don't you see that the wall is falling! Run!"

But where should he run? The whole city seemed to be burning, and
everywhere was horror and terror. In trying to cross a street, Tommy was
knocked down, and was for a second under the feet of a plunging horse. But
he got out, and reached the sidewalk, with Sissy still safe, and he did not
know that his arm was broken.

"Wasn't it lucky that Sissy was on the other arm?" he said, speaking to no
one.

That awful day! Nobody who lived through it will ever forget it. Tommy
Carter spent it struggling, pushing, panting, tugging, trying to get
somewhere with Sissy. And Sissy cried for food and then for water, and
there was none of either to give her; and then she lay back still, and he
thought she was dying. The crowds swarmed and surged about him, crying,
groaning, praying, cursing, yelling orders; and above all that fearful din
arose the terrifying roar of the fire. The city was burning up! O, _where_
was mother? And where was a safe place for Sissy? And why did his arm hurt
so? What was the matter with him? His head was whirling round and round.
Was he going to die and leave Sissy?--He never would!

Suddenly he roused with fresh energy. Somebody was trying to take Sissy.

"Don't you touch her!" he cried, fiercely. "Don't you dare! Let her alone,
I say!" and he fought like a wild animal.

"But, my poor boy," said the doctor, who was bending over him. But Tommy
was insane with pain and fear.

"Let her be, I say!" he screamed. "Mother said I was not to let anybody
take her, and I won't! I will kill you if you touch her! I'll, _I'll_--"
and then Tommy fell back in a dead faint.

When he wakened, he was in a large, quiet room, in a clean bed. "Where is
Sissy?" he called out in terror. A woman in white bent over him and spoke
low: "Hush, dear; do not try to move. Sissy is safe and well and happy."

"Where is she, ma'am?" said Tommy. "I must have her right here by me. I can
take care of her as well as not; I always do; and--I promised mother, you
see; and she's awfully afraid of strangers."

"She is not afraid of us; she is very happy here. I have sent for her to
come and see you. Ah, here she comes this minute!"

And there was Sissy, smiling, in the arms of a woman in a white gown and
cap, and herself in the prettiest of white dresses. She laughed for joy at
sight of Tommy, but was quite willing to stay in the young woman's arms.

"Little darling!" said the nurse. "She was not hurt a bit; and she is so
sweet!"

"And where is mother, ma'am?" asked Tommy. "Was she hurt so that she cannot
take care of Sissy? I am afraid that she was. When can I go to her? I have
to take care of mother. Does she know that I kept Sissy safe?"

The two nurses looked at each other, and seemed not to know just how to
answer so many questions; but the doctor, who had come up a moment before,
stepped forward and spoke cheerily.

Tommy smiled gratefully.

"And when can I go and take care of her, sir? Was mother hurt? I remember
all about it now. Is mother safe?"

"You have been very ill, and did not know what was happening. You did not
even know Sissy when we brought her to see you."

"O!" said Tommy, with a faint smile. "How queer! Did not know Sissy! It is
so nice that she takes to the pretty lady, and that mother is safe. I am
very sleepy, sir. Would it be right to go to sleep if the pretty lady can
take care of Sissy for a little while?"

"Quite right, my boy. We will take the best possible care of Sissy."

The doctor's voice was husky, and he turned away soon, with his own eyes
dim, as Tommy's heavy eyes had closed.

"O doctor!" said both nurses.

"He is going, the brave little hero!" he said. "And we, you and I, will
take care of Sissy for him."

"Yes, indeed!" said the pretty nurse, with a sob; she kissed Sissy.--_Mrs.
G.R. Alden, in Junior Endeavor World, by permission of Lothrop, Lee &
Shepard Co._

LITTLE CORNERS

Georgia Willis, who helped in the kitchen, was rubbing the knives. Somebody
had been careless and let one get rusty, but Georgia rubbed with all her
might, rubbed, and sang softly a little song:--

"In the world is darkness,
So we must shine,
You in your small corner,
And I in mine."

"Why do you rub at the knives forever?" asked Mary. Mary was the cook.

"Because they are in my corner," Georgia said, brightly. "'You in your
small corner,' you know, 'and I in mine.' I will do the best I can; that is
all I can do."

"I would not waste my strength," said Mary. "I know that no one will
notice."

"Jesus will," said Georgia; and then she sang again,--

"You in your small corner,
And I in mine."

"Cooking the dinner is in my corner, I suppose," said Mary to herself. "If
that child must do what she can, I suppose I must. If Jesus knows about
knives, it is likely that he does about dinners." And she took particular
pains.

"Mary, the dinner was very nicely cooked today," Miss Emma said.

"That is all due to Georgia," said Mary, with a pleased face. Then she told
about the knives.

Miss Emma was ironing ruffles; she was tired and warm. "Helen will not care
whether they are fluted or not," she said. "I will hurry them over." But
after she heard about the knives, she did her best.

"How beautifully my dress is done!" Helen said. Emma, laughing, answered,
"That is owing to Georgia." Then she told about the knives.

"No," said Helen to her friend who urged, "I really cannot go this evening.
I am going to prayer-meeting; my 'corner' is there."

"Your 'corner'! What do you mean?"

Then Helen told about the knives.

"Well," the friend said, "if you will not go with me, perhaps I will with
you," and they went to the prayer-meeting.

"You helped us ever so much with the singing this evening," their pastor
said to them as they were going home. "I was afraid you would not be here."

"It was owing to our Georgia," said Helen. "She seemed to think she must do
what she could, if it were only to clean the knives." Then she told him the
story.

"I believe I will go in here again," said the minister, stopping before a
poor little house. "I said yesterday there was no use; but I must do what I
can."

In the house a sick man was lying. Again and again the minister had called,
but the invalid would not listen to him. Tonight the minister said, "I have
come to tell you a little story." Then he told him about Georgia Willis,
about her knives and her little corner, and her "doing what she could." The
sick man wiped the tears from his eyes, and said, "I will find my corner,
too. I will try to shine for Jesus." And the sick man was Georgia's father.

Jesus, looking down at her that day, said, "She hath done what she could,"
and gave the blessing.

"I believe I will not go for a walk," said Helen, hesitatingly. "I will
finish that dress of mother's; I suppose I can if I think so."

"Why, child, are you here sewing?" her mother said. "I thought you had gone
for a walk."

"No, mother; this dress seemed to be in my 'corner,' so I thought I would
finish it."

"In your 'corner'!" her mother repeated in surprise, and then Helen told
about the knives. The doorbell rang, and the mother went thoughtfully to
receive her pastor. "I suppose I could give more," she said to herself, as
she slowly took out the ten dollars that she had laid aside for missions.
"If that poor child in the kitchen is trying to do what she can, I wonder
if I am. I will make it twenty-five dollars."

And I seemed to hear Georgia's guardian angel say to another angel,
"Georgia Willis gave twenty-five dollars to our dear people in India
today."

"Twenty-five dollars!" said the other angel. "Why, I thought she was poor?"

"O, well, she thinks she is, but her Father in heaven is not, you know! She
did what she could, and he did the rest."

But Georgia knew nothing about all this, and the next morning she
brightened her knives and sang cheerily:--

"In the world is darkness,
So we must shine,
You in your small corner,
And I in mine."

--_The Pansy_.

IN THE HOME

When John Howard Payne wrote the immortal words of "Home, Sweet Home,"
adapting them to the beautiful Sicilian melody, now so familiar to us all,
he gave to the world a precious legacy, which has brought sunshine into
millions of hearts. "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home." And
there is no other place in all the world where the little courtesies of
life should be so tenderly given; where loving ministrations should be so
cheerfully bestowed; in short, where good manners, in all the varied
details of life, should be so diligently practised. "Home, sweet home!" the
place where childhood days are spent, where habits are formed which are to
continue through the future, and where the foundation is laid upon which
the superstructure of after-years is to be built. What a halo lingers about
the blessed spot! and how the soul of the exile cherishes the pictures
which adorn the halls of memory,--pictures which the rude hand of time can
never efface!

This earth has many lingering traces of Eden yet remaining, which enrapture
the eye of the beholder. But there is no sight in all the world so
beautiful as that of a well-ordered, harmonious Christian home,--a home
where love reigns; where each esteems the other better than himself; where
the parents are careful to practise what they preach; where the daily
lessons instilled into the minds of the children from babyhood to maturity
always and forever include the indispensable drills in good manners.

There is no school so important as the home school, no teacher so
responsible as the parent, no pupil under such weighty obligations to
deport himself creditably as is the son or daughter of the household. And
may it not be asserted truthfully that there is no more thrilling
commencement scene than that which sees the noble young man or young woman,
having passed successfully through all the grades of the parental school,
bid a regretful adieu to the dear childhood home, to enter upon a career of
usefulness elsewhere, to spend and be spent in saving humanity? But how few
such commencement scenes do we witness! How few pupils ever pass the test
satisfactorily in the important branch of ethics! When parents practice
good manners toward their children; when they find as much pleasure in the
unaffected "please" and "thank you" of the home kindergarten as they do in
the same marks of politeness elsewhere; when the deportment in the grades
of the home school is considered of greater importance than that in the
schools away from home, our preparatory schools and colleges will have less
trouble in securing good behavior on the part of those in attendance, and
the problem of how to maintain proper decorum will have lost its
perplexity.

Every time a child says "please" it is a reminder that he is not
independent, that he is in need of assistance. Every time he says "thank
you," he has yet another reminder that he is not independent, that he is
under obligations to another for assistance received. Pure and undefiled
religion and good manners cannot be separated. The child who is taught to
say "please" because he is in need of human aid, may be made easily to
comprehend the beautiful significance of prayer, because he is in need of
divine aid. The child who is taught to say "thank you" for favors received
from earthly friends, may be led easily to see the appropriateness of
offering praise and thanksgiving for divine blessings.

Children who are made to realize that to appear well always in the society
of home is infinitely more important than to try to appear well
occasionally when away from home, cause little parental anxiety as to how
they will deport themselves when absent. And children who practise good
behavior in the home when no company is present, do not need to be called
aside for a hasty lesson in this line when some one is about to call. Such
lessons are very unsatisfactory, and are seldom remembered, being much like
music lessons taken without the intervening practise.

Good manners cannot be put on and off with the best clothing, or donned
momentarily to suit the occasion. But, unlike our ordinary apparel, the
more they are worn, the more beautiful they appear. Good manners in the
home means good manners everywhere; and each individual simply stands
before the world an epitome of all his former training. If the child has
learned to be honest and truthful in all the details of the home life, he
may face the world in later years a worthy example of uprightness to all
with whom he comes in contact. If he has learned to be habitually kind and
courteous in the home, he is the same wherever he may be. If he always
appears neat and tidy in the home, these pleasing characteristics will
remain with him throughout life.

If the loved members of his own family circle never discover that he has a
"temper of his own," there is little danger that any one else will ever
find it out. If his habits and practises at home are such as to ennoble and
beautify his own life, his influence will rest as a benign benediction upon
the beloved of his household, and the great world outside will be be better
because of his having lived in it. O, that every boy and girl might rightly
appreciate the vast difference between manners of the soul and manners of
the head,--manners of the heart and manners of the outward appearance! One
is Christian religion, the other is cold formality. One means the salvation
of souls; the other is but vanity and outward show.

But we are instructed that "true refinement and gentleness of manners can
never be found in a home where selfishness reigns." "We should be
self-forgetful, ever looking out for opportunities, even in little things,
to show gratitude for the favors we have received from others, and watching
for opportunities to cheer others, and to lighten and relieve their sorrows
and burdens, by acts of tender kindness and little deeds of love. These
thoughtful courtesies that begin in our families, extend outside the family
circle, and help to make up the sum of life's happiness; and the neglect of
these little things makes up the sum of life's bitterness and sorrow."

Boys and girls who rightly appreciate good manners will be polite and
courteous in the home, and will share cheerfully in all the little duties
of the household. Some one has said that idleness is "the chief author of
all mischief." And surely any individual who chooses to be idle rather than
to be usefully employed, is exceedingly ill-bred. Children should be taught
the nobility of labor, and to respect those who faithfully perform the
humblest duties of life, just as much as those who accomplish the more
difficult tasks.

There is pointed truth in the assertion that there is gospel in a loaf of
good bread; but it is a sad comment on the home training of the present day
that so few of our young people recognize this fact. It is to be deplored
that the children nowadays receive so little training in the ins and outs
of good housekeeping. No young lady should consider herself accomplished
until she has acquired the art of making good bread, and of knowing how to
prepare healthful and palatable meals. Even if it never should be her
privilege to become the queen of a kitchen, there are always ample
opportunities to impart such valuable knowledge to others.

The world is in direful need of practical boys and girls, practical young
men and young women, who are not afraid to perform faithfully even the
smallest duties that lie in the pathway of life, and who are willing to tax
their thinking powers in order that their work may be done in the best
possible manner. How much more in keeping with Christian manners that the
son of the household should share in the burden of keeping the domestic
machinery running smoothly, rather than misemploy his time, and grow up
unacquainted with the practical duties of life! How much more appropriate
that the daughter should assist the mother in performing the various
household duties, rather than occupy a hammock or an easy chair, and spend
her time in reading cheap books! Many a weary mother would appreciate such
kindness on the part of her children more than words can express, and the
children themselves would be the happier because of such thoughtful
service.

The boy or girl who grows up in the belief that honorable labor in any
direction is a God-given privilege, will realize that housework is not
without its fascinations, and that manual training in the school is an
important part of the daily curriculum. Such a child will realize that even
an empty water-pail or a vacant wood-box presents a golden opportunity for
usefulness which should not be slighted. He will not appropriate for
himself the last pint of cold water from the pail, or the last cup of hot
water from the teakettle, and complacently leave them for some one else to
fill. That child, even though he be grown up who sees nothing in these
little opportunities for usefulness, will let greater ones pass by with the
same lack of appreciation.

Laziness is a deadly enemy to success; and the child who is indolent in the
home, is likely to bring up the rear in the race of life. Laziness is no
kin to true happiness. The lazy child is not the truly happy child. He lies
in bed until late in the morning, is often careless about his personal
appearance, is late to breakfast, late to school, and his name is entirely
wanting when the highest credits are awarded. Such a child may be sometimes
recognized by the neglected appearance of his teeth and finger-nails, the
"high-water marks" about his neck and wrists, the dust on his clothing and
shoes, his untidy hair, etc. In fact, he seems to have adopted as his life
motto the paraphrase, "There is no excellence about great labor."

A trite story is told of a man who was to be executed because of his
persistent laziness. While being driven to the scaffold, he was given one
more chance for his life by a kind-hearted individual who offered him a
quantity of corn with which to make a new start. Upon hearing the
suggestion, the condemned man slowly raised himself up, and rather
dubiously inquired, "I-s i-t s-h-e-l-l-e-d?" Being informed to the
contrary, he slowly settled down again, with the remark, "W-e-l-l, then,
drive on."

Now, boys and girls, you will find many occasions in life when it will be
necessary for you to put forth an extra effort in order to succeed. But
when some golden opportunity presents the corn to you, do not stop to
inquire, "Is it shelled?" Learn to shell your own corn. Use your muscle as
well as your brain, ever bearing in mind that increased strength, both
physical and mental, comes as the result of the proper use of that which
you now possess. Be workers, be thinkers, in the great world about you. The
old saying that it is better to wear out than to rust out is not without
forceful meaning.

In accordance with heaven-born manners, "let all things be done decently
and in order." All things include even the little chores which may be done
by the members of the home kindergarten; it also includes the greatest task
of which man is capable. If we would learn how particular Heaven is in
regard to neatness and order, we should become familiar with God's
instructions to ancient Israel. The arrangement of the camp of Israel, and
the whole round of tabernacle service, present a systematic demonstration
of order and neatness such as Heaven approves. And the sad fate of Uzzah,
Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, attests to how particular God is in regard to
perfect order.

If systematic order and neatness are to be maintained in the home, the
members of the household must be united in putting forth the necessary
efforts. And blessed is that family who make of home "a little heaven to go
to heaven in."

But let me repeat that "true refinement and gentleness of manners can never
be found in a home where selfishness reigns." And how many temptations to
selfishness there are in the home life! Every day brings the choice between
selfishness and self-sacrifice. Shall I take for myself the choicest apple?
or shall I share in that which is not so agreeable? These may appear to be
very insignificant questions. But, boys and girls, do you know that the
habitual decisions at which you arrive in childhood, determine largely
whether or not you will live by principle later on? "As the twig is bent,
so the tree inclines."

But the lesson of always giving cheerfully to others that which the natural
heart would selfishly appropriate as its own, can be learned only in the
school of Christ. And blessed is that parent or teacher who rightly
appreciates the privilege of becoming an assistant in that school. Blessed
is that pupil who realizes what it means to become such a devoted learner
that he can find joy in denying self that he may minister to the comfort of
others whenever an opportunity is afforded, recognizing that every
heaven-appointed task is a part of the great cause of truth--the giving of
the "gospel to all the world in this generation." Every kindness shown to
others, if done in the right spirit, is counted in the records of heaven as
done to Christ himself. Even the cup of cold water given in his name, is
never forgotten.

Kind words and loving deeds are as pebbles cast upon the great sea of
humanity, the ever-widening circle of whose influence extends beyond the
limited vision of him who projects them; and the eternal ages alone will
reveal how many souls have been saved, and saved forever, as the grand
result. How many girls and boys are watching every opportunity to share in
this blessed work?

MRS. M. A. LOPER.

SOMETIME, SOMEWHERE

You lent a hand to a fallen one,
A lift in kindness given;
It saved a soul when help was none,
And won a heart for heaven.
And so for the help you proffered there,
You'll reap a crown, sometime, somewhere.

D. G. BICKERS

GIANTS AND GRASSHOPPERS

"What is the matter?" asked Mrs. Hamlin. "What is hindering the work?"

Mr. Hamlin glanced up from his paper. "The work?" he said. "O, the old
story; there are 'giants' in the land, and the committee feel like
'grasshoppers'!"

It was Earle's turn to look up. Earle was reading, but he generally had one
ear for any conversation that was going on about him. His eyes went back to
his book, but he kept wondering just what his father meant. Of course there
were no giants in these days! He waited until his father was turning the
paper to another page, then put in his question:--

"Father, what do you mean about 'giants' and 'grasshoppers'?"

Mr. Hamlin laughed. "Your ears heard that, did they? Why, I meant what the
ten spies did when they whined about giants, and called themselves
'grasshoppers,' instead of seizing their chance, as the other two wanted
them to do. Don't you remember the story? I fear you are not so well posted
on Old Testament history as you are in your school history. The report of
the spies makes very interesting reading; you would better look it up."

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