Harry's Missionary Board.
"I CAN'T afford it," John Hale, the rich farmer, answered, when asked to give to the cause of missions. Harry, his wide-awake grandson, was grieved and indignant. "But the poor heathen," he replied; "is it not too bad that they cannot have churches and school-houses and books?" "What do you know about the heathen?" exclaimed the old man, testily. "Would you wish me to give away my hard earnings? I tell you I cannot afford it." "Grandfather, if you do not feel able to give money to the Missionary Board, will you give a potato?" "A potato!" ejaculated Mr. Hale, looking up from his paper. "Yes, sir; and land enough to plant it in, and what it produces for four years." "Oh, yes!" said the unsuspecting grandparent, setting his glasses on his calculating nose in a way that showed he was glad to escape from the lad's persecution on such cheap terms. Harry planted the potato, and it rewarded him the first year by producing thirteen; these the following season became a peck; the next season, seven and a half bushels; and when the fourth harvest came, lo! the potato had increased to seventy bushels; and when sold the amount realized was with a glad heart put into the treasury of the Lord. Even the aged farmer exclaimed, "Why, I did not feel that donation in the least! And, Harry, I've been thinking that if there was a little missionary like you in every house, and each one got a potato, or something else as productive, for the cause, there would be quite a large sum gathered." Little reader, will you be that missionary at home?—Gospel in All Lands.