"Miss FORREST, Mr. James will not be here this afternoon. Would you be willing to take part of his class?"
"Oh, certainly!" responded Miss Forrest pleasantly, but with an inward sinking of heart, for was it not enough to have those naughty boys next to her class without taking them into it? Her fears were not justified, however, that day, for the deportment of Joe and Harry Benson was above criticism, and mischievous Billy Long sat bolt upright all through the session, with an innocent expression, that was not always so honestly assumed.
Miss Forrest did not allow the acquaintance thus begun to cease with that day, for she liked the three rough boys, and through the spring she sought and found many opportunities of showing her interest in them. Joe was a freckle-faced boy, with a rough voice and a warm heart, and him especially was Miss Forrest anxious to influence for good. One day, seeing him alone, she questioned him as to what he intended to be when he grew up.
"I don't know yet what I'll be," he said.
"Well, I hope you will make a man that amounts to something. You can if you try. I like you, Joe, and that is why I want you to be a good boy and a good man."
There was no time for more, but Joe had received a new idea. It had never occurred to him that Miss Forrest liked him. He considered a moment.
"She has been awful nice to us boys, that's so; I like her too, and I'll try to please her."
But good intentions sometimes are forgotten, and the next Sunday whom should Miss Forrest see but the Benson boys and Jack Thompson helping themselves to apples from her yard? She went early to Sunday school that afternoon. The three culprits and Billy Long were in their seats, and she sat down in front of them.
"Don't you think it was too bad, boys, for you to steal the apples from our yard?" she asked.
Three heads were hung in confusion, but Billy, although a receiver of stolen goods, sat up very straight, and responded virtuously, "I didn't."
"No, I didn't mean you; I am talking to the others. I don't care for the apples, they are worth nothing; but," with a little break in her voice, "I care for you, boys. I do want you to grow up to be good men, and you know as well as I that that is not the way to begin. Now won't you all promise me that when you want apples from the yard you will come and ask for them? Will you promise, Jack?"
"Yes, ma'am," meekly answered Jack.
"Will you, Joe?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Harry?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And you, Billy?"
"Yes, ma'am, always did last year."
Nothing was seen of the boys that week, but the next Sunday, when Joe and Billy were passing the yard on the way to Sunday school, two big apples lay temptingly on the grass. Each boy seized one, but suddenly Joe remembered his promise. He stood irresolute. Could he give up that beautiful apple? He remembered, too, that Miss Forrest had said she liked him. The apple fell to the ground.
"What's the matter?" asked Billy.
"Don't you know we promised not to steal these apples? I ain't going to take 'em."
Billy looked at him. "Ho, you're silly! I shan't keep no old promise, and, besides, she'll never know it," and he picked up the apple Joe had dropped.
Joe slowly walked away, while Billy, wishing to show his scorn of such foolish scruples, aimed a stone at another apple hanging in sight. It missed its mark, but a loud yelp from the shrubbery testified that it had found a victim.
Billy felt that he preferred not to face Miss Forrest that day, and seated himself at Sunday school with his back to her class. She was unusually late, and Billy, whose chair was near hers, without turning his head, heard her excusing herself to her boys.
"I am so sorry to be so late, but my little Floss has been badly hurt, and I stayed to see what could be done for him. He seemed to have been struck with a stone and badly cut."
Billy's heart gave a sudden jump.
"O Miss Forrest," exclaimed Fred Willis, "it was Joe Benson that did it, for I saw him running away from your yard just before school!"
"Oh, hush, Fred!" said his teacher. "You know I don't like to hear tales about each other."
Billy felt relieved, as he thought to himself, "There, now, she'll never suspect me." But Joe, would he like to be suspected? Joe was a jolly good fellow, and it was mean to let him be blamed. But how could Billy go and tell on himself. "Oh, well, never mind! I guess the dog isn't hurt much, and I shan't say anything."
But he felt uncomfortable, and tried hard to put aside the worrying thoughts that kept bobbing up during the rest of the day.
Next morning the first boy he met was Fred Willis, who began, "Say, you know that dog of Miss Forrest's?"
"Yes."
"Well, he's dead." Billy felt himself suddenly grow hot all over. Fred went on: "Joe Benson threw a stone and cut his side, so it killed him."
Billy continued his walk with a very uneasy mind. He certainly could not confess now that the dog was dead, for he had no money to pay, and perhaps they would arrest him. But how horrid it was to let Joe be suspected. Would they arrest Joe? he wondered; then he would certainly have to tell, and how Miss Forrest would look at him when she heard he had broken his promise. He wished he could run away. It was the first time he had ever consciously realized that the thing called conscience dwelt within him. It would not be still all the rest of the day. He went early to bed to silence its voice, but it awoke with him in the morning, and he felt more wretched than ever. And when, at breakfast, he saw Joe running up the yard, he felt that the day of judgment was at hand. Preferring to meet it out-of-doors, he snatched his hat and went forth to face Joe.
"Say, Billy," the latter burst out, "Miss Forrest's dog is dead. That stone you hit it with cut an awful hole in its side, and it died, and I say it's a shame, and I think you and me ought to go to work and pay for it; I ought to help, you know," he added magnanimously, "because I was with you when you did it."
Billy saw that Joe had not heard of the suspicion attaching to himself, and he felt very small as he growled out, "I'd like to know how we'd ever pay for it; I haven't no money."
"No, but we can work and earn it. There's six weeks till school begins, and we can do it, I know, and I know a man that has dogs to sell, so let's go down and see how much that kind of a dog will cost; then we'll know how much we've got to make."
Though this scheme cast some light on Billy's gloom, he felt decidedly skeptical as to their ability to carry it out; but as they walked along, Joe unfolded his plan.
"You see Mrs. Joy said she'd give me a dollar'n' a half to wheel away her ash pile, and Mr. Murphy'll give a dollar for weeding his onion bed, and you can have both those jobs, and Mrs. Parkin, that lives next to us, offered me ten cents a morning to mind her baby while she goes to clean offices. I said I wouldn't do it, the baby's awful cross, but I will; I don't suppose you'd want that, would you? and that would make three dollars and sixty cents in six weeks, not counting Sundays."
Billy finally agreed to try the plan if they found a suitable dog. Sure enough, there was one that seemed to be the exact counterpart of the deceased animal. The price was ten dollars. As a matter of fact, Floss, a pure Blenheim spaniel, had cost a much larger sum, but the lads did not recognize delicate distinctions in pedigree.
Joe addressed the proprietor: "Could you keep him for us till the middle of September?"
"No, I guess not; he'd be costing money all the time, you know. Why don't you take him now?"
"Why, you see we have no money now. Got to earn it."
"Sho! how can you two little fellows earn ten dollars?"
"Oh, weeding onion beds, and things! Oh, we'll earn it, I tell you! Got to have it," said Billy with emphasis.
The man laughed. "Ain't you Thomas Benson's son?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, he's a friend of mine, and I'd like to accommodate his boy. How much could you pay a week?"
Joe made a rapid calculation. "'Bout a dollar'n' a half, I guess."
"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do; you can take the dog home and pay me one fifty a week till it's paid for, and if you don't make10it, I'll take the dog back and give you the money."
It was a bargain, and the boys, highly delighted, led their acquisition home with a string. Joe's mother was not so much pleased to have her kitchen thus invaded, but when Joe confided the story to her, she consented to the dog's remaining.
The next day the boys went bravely to work to earn their ten dollars. Morning after morning Joe struggled with the cross baby, feeling that the labors of Hercules were slight in comparison with his, but upheld by his devotion to Miss Forrest, and learning unconsciously many lessons of patience and perseverance. His afternoons were spent in various ways—sometimes brushing dishes for his mother, a task he hated, carrying home the clean clothes, running errands, or distributing bills. The pennies came in slowly, and some weeks it was hard work to scrape together his share of the money.
As for Billy, he found Mr. Murphy's onions very weedy, and Mrs. Joy's ash pile very solid, and felt, when he received his two dollars and a half, that it was money well earned. His employment for the rest of the season was carrying water for the laborers on the sewer; his wages, one dollar a week. The weather was hot, and the water bucket heavy, and many a time Billy felt like giving it up; but each Sunday a smile from Miss Forrest kept his contrition fresh, and each Monday he went to work with renewed energy.
Finally the last dollar was paid, and on Saturday evening the lads, leading the new Floss, rang Miss Forrest's bell. She opened the door herself, and as her glance fell on the dog, she exclaimed, "Why, how like my little Floss!"
" 'Tis your Floss," cried Joe, thrusting the string into her hand. "We earned the money and bought him."
She stared at him in surprise.
"You see," broke in Billy, very red in the face, "you see 'twas me that fired the rock that killed your dog, and Joe didn't have nothing to do with it. I was stoning your apple tree," he faltered on, determined to make a clean breast of it, "after I said I wouldn't, and—and I hope you'll forgive me," and he burst into tears.
Miss Forrest sat down on the step, and took his hand. "Of course I will forgive you, Billy, and you don't know how glad I am that you came and told me this. I'm sure you will never stone my trees again."
"No, nor nobody else's, neither," blubbered Billy.
"If it has taught you that lesson, I am very glad, for I do want you both to be good boys and good men. I know you will try now harder than ever, won't you?"
"Yes, ma'am, we will," answered Joe, while Billy was drying his tears on his coat sleeve.
"The dog is a little beauty," said Miss Forrest. "I feel as if it were too much for me to take it."
"Oh, you must take it!" cried both boys at once. "We bought it just for you."
"That was very thoughtful of you, and very honorable, and I shall prize him very highly. Good-night, and thank you very much."
Billy went down the steps feeling that he was once more a man; and Joe, as he gave Floss a farewell hug, left a tear on the dog's shiny coat.—N. Y. Observer.
AND SO HE DID.
By Nannie Camm Sutton
He begged nurse let him dress himself, for now that he was five,
He knew he could, and just as well as any boy alive.
So, nurse consenting, down he sat, and, wrong side out, each stocking
Pulled on, and snapt a garter strap with swiftness truly shocking,
Yea, in a trice had buttoned on his left shoe for the right one,
Wherefrom three buttons popped with speed that fairly did affright one.
Then from the drawer a nice clean collar fetched, and put it on him.
(But 'twas his little sister's best, and dark she glared upon him.)
And so he worked, till, last of all, with brush a-running water
All down his pinky shirt waist front—just where it never "oughter"—
He went to nurse, and, quoth he, as he doubtfully eyed o'er
His little breeches with great care arranged hind part before,
"You thee I did it, nurth." (Alack! but "nurth" stood consternated
To see him so, while he, serene, his satisfaction stated.)
"Ith all wight 'cep' juth one thing" (nurse's eyes bulged in their sockets),
"I'll have to juth walk backward to get my hands in my pockets."
—Nannie Camm Sutton.
TURKISH ATROCITIES IN ARMENIA.
BRIEF mention has heretofore been made of cruel persecutions and brutal massacres in Turkish Armenia, committed by Turkish troops and other Moslem mobs. Details have been meager because of the close scrutiny of mail matter, and the difficulties in the way of escape from the ill-fated country by those who might be sympathizers. The following press dispatch gives a fuller idea of the terrible condition of affairs than anything that has yet been published in this country:—
"ATHENS, December 3.—Twenty refugees have arrived here from Armenia after a journey full of hardships and suffering. They were seen to-day concerning the terrible events of which they had, in a number of cases, been eyewitnesses. This party of Armenians is the first that has escaped from the districts where the massacres occurred, and it is believed that even worse remains to be told, as the horrors described are understood to have lasted for a long time after this party left.923"Most of the persons who told their stories to-day escaped from Moosh, Bitlis, and Sassoun, taking with them what little they could carry, and making their way with the greatest difficulty to the Russo-Turkish frontier, and going to Erivan and Etchmiadzin. Several Armenian women had escaped from the villages with this party, but when near Erzeroum they died from the effects of saber wounds inflicted upon them before their escape.
"For about eighteen months, the Armenians say, the province of Sassoun has been surrounded by Turkish troops, and nobody has been allowed to enter or leave it. About four months ago the Turkish authorities learned that the inhabitants of Vartemis, a village outside the frontier of Sassoun, were sending for the necessaries of life to the village of Dalvorig. Such communication between the two villages being prohibited, the Turks massacred nearly all the inhabitants of Vartemis. This was the second massacre to occur. The first took place about a year ago."
"One of the refugees, a man named Khadjik, states that his uncle and aunt were both killed. An Armenian priest named Kevont was killed for refusing to celebrate the Turkish rites in his church at Vartemis. The village contained 325 Armenian houses before the Turks attacked it, but when the fugitives left, only twenty-five houses remained standing. Dalvorig, it appears, is the largest village in the province of Sassoun, and its inhabitants, when they learned of the horrors perpetrated by the Turks at Vartemis, attacked the Turks on the frontier.
"The Turkish commander eventually sent twelve soldiers into Dalvorig to learn what had occurred. The Armenians, filled with indignation at the atrocities committed by the Turks at Vartemis, attacked this detachment of Turkish soldiers and put them all to death. When the Turkish commander heard of the death of his soldiers, he determined on vengeance in the most bloody manner possible. A strong force of Turkish troops was sent to the village with artillery, and the massacre began. The guns kept up a continuous fire upon Dalvorig until practically not one stone was left standing upon another.
"Selo, the Bey of Initzoun, a Kurd, with a detachment of Kurdish cavalry, went with the Turkish soldiers to the village of Semal and forcibly took the Armenian priest from his church, after disgustingly defiling the sacred vessels and the priest's hands. They then bound him on a donkey, which they drove a distance of a few yards. The soldiers then fired at the priest and killed him and the beast he was bound to. From this village Selo forcibly took eight Armenian girls and sent them to his harem at Initzoun.
"Further atrocities were committed by the Turks at the village of Keliehuesen. Before dawn this place was surrounded by soldiers, and while the inhabitants were still asleep, it was set on fire. The brutal soldiers entered the residence of a man named Araket, who was asleep with his wife, and tortured them both in a horrible manner with red-hot irons.
"At Keliehuesen the soldiers killed the Armenian priest, Margosa, with twenty other inmates of a house. They were burned to death, the soldiers preventing anybody from escaping from the burning dwelling. The chief of the village of Cheneg was captured by the soldiers and bound to his two daughters. All three were then scalded to death with boiling water.
"Ibo Bey, the notorious Kurd brigand of the village of Djibran, and a colonel in the regular army, went with a detachment of Turkish troops to the Armenian villages of Bahlou, Hatezgeni, and Komka, and at each place committed every crime there is to commit. After driving out the men, they collected all the female children of Bahlou together, about 200 in all, and killed them with guns and swords. After this massacre the Turkish soldiers regaled themselves with wine and whatever else they could find in the village.
"The Kurdish regular troops from Kizan and Bahran entered the Armenian villages of Allanozig and Aghleg, killed the inhabitants, and wrecked their houses. The number of villages devastated in this manner is said to be over thirty. The Armenians fled in every direction, but many of them were captured by the Turkish troops before they could get away, and were taken to prison.
"Khadjik, who was the principal spokesman of the Armenian refugees, told the whole story in a most convincing manner.
"Dr. G. Thoumain, a well-known Armenian, has just received a letter, written on September 29, from Todorian, a village near Erzeroum. The writer says:—
"How can I write such horrors of our life for the days since the 14th. Mounted robbers rode up to this village an hour after sunset and immediately began an indiscriminate attack upon the Armenian inhabitants. Over 200 shots were fired at the house of the Rev. Mr. Zookis, pastor of the Protestant community, who was absent from Erzeroum. Three balls struck the pastor's wife in the face. She subsequently died from the effects of her wounds.
"Some poor people from Khnoos, who were living in the basement of the pastor's house, hurried upstairs when the firing was going on, and all of them were wounded. Mr. Richardson, an American missionary, came from Erzeroum to attend the funeral of the pastor's wife. On September 25 a band of robbers committed murder at Andag and carried off cattle. At Dody they broke into houses and plundered them of their contents.
"Dr. Thoumain was formerly a professor at the American College at Marsovan, and has himself been the victim of cruel persecution at the hands of the Turks, in 1893, when serious disturbances occurred in various parts of Armenia, and scores of innocent Christians were thrown into prison, and the Christian college burned. On representations made to the Turkish Government by the Department of State of the United States, Dr. Thoumain was pardoned."
Dr. Hitchcock on Tobacco
A violent hater of tobacco is Dr. Hitchcock, a professor in Amherst College. He attributes to its immoderate use, especially by immature young men, all sorts of physical and mental ailments, and predicts that a quarter of a century more of excess will produce a generation of weaklings.—N. Y. Sun.
A WHISTLING MINISTER.
A SUCCESSFUL pastor must possess the grace of human sympathy and brotherly love, as well as the gifts of oratory and eloquence. During a late conference in New York, the question of increasing church membership came under discussion, and the pastor of a prominent Presbyterian Church in a neighboring city was asked to give his opinion. With a humorous twinkle in his eyes, he related in reply the following episode of his own experience:—
While taking a morning stroll in the suburbs of Buffalo, he came across a bright-faced little boy of about five years, who returned his good-morning greeting by taking his hand and chatting with the innocent candor of trusting childhood. He narrated, among other matters, that he had almost lost his pet dog the day before, because when it had gone out of sight he did not know how to whistle it back.
"Not know how to whistle, my little man!" said the minister. "Why, how does that happen?"
"'Cause nobody hain't had the time to teach me," was the answer, given with quivering lips.
"Well, well; I shall take the time to teach you," and in a few minutes the little fellow was seated on his kind friend's knee, solemnly engaged in mastering the mysteries of the great art of whistling, both teacher and pupil too much engrossed to notice that they were the center of an admiring audience.
"I had intended to use strong moral persuasion," said the pastor in conclusion, "to bring the godless residents of that portion of the city under the influence of the church, but that simple act of kindness, through the grace of God, worked out a highly favorable result. I was dubbed the whistling parson, and under the protecting shelter of that sobriquet was allowed the freedom of many homes which would otherwise have been closed to me and to the message I was bound to deliver."—N. Y. Observer.
SLEEPING ON SOFT BEDS.
By Philadelphia Record
THERE is an old story of an Indian and a "pale face," who, after a long day's journey, lay down in a deserted cabin at nightfall to rest. The Indian wrapped himself in his blanket, stretched himself on the floor of the cabin, with his feet to the fire, and was soon asleep. His companion, meantime, had espied a feather bed in another room, and, congratulating himself on his discovery, jumped in, and was also soon in a doze.
With the first rays of the morning light, the Indian rose refreshed, and ready for the day's task. He went to arouse his comrade, when, lo! he found him dead from exhaustion of the previous day.
The tendency of the body to gravitate toward the lowest part of a feather bed is beyond remedy.
In this position the whole body is often so curled up that no part is free from constriction. The chest walls are caved in, and the whole body suffers from the consequent lack of proper oxygenation of the blood and the restriction which is placed upon its general circulation. The blood moves sluggishly, and as a result the condition of "fat and flabby" is superinduced.
This condition is never likely to follow the constant use of a firm hair mattress, for the blood has no chance to get dropsical from too sluggish a circulation.
Perfect physical repose, like perfect physical activity, is dependent upon proper equilibrium of the bodily functions during slumber.
A PILGRIM SONG.
By Rev. Peter Stryker, D.D.
When the sky is bright above me,
When around all seem to love me,
When no fears or troubles move me,
Then I'll trust in God.
He's the source of all my pleasure;
He, from out his richest treasure,
Gives me, without stint or measure,
Bliss at home, abroad.
When the way is dark and eerie,
When my feet are worn and weary,
When my heart is sad and dreary,
Then I'll trust in God.
He it is who kindly leads me,
He who daily clothes and feeds me,
And I know whate'er my needs be
He will help afford.
On the mount or in the valley,
On the highway, lane, or alley,
I will still my courage rally,
Singing, "Trust in God."
He's my all; I want no other;
Jesus is my elder brother;
Tender as a loving mother,
Is my blessed Lord.
—Rev. Peter Stryker, D.D.
A Chinese Christian’s Self-Sacrifice
Dr. Griffin John speaks of the suspicion which prevails somewhat widely that the Chinese are so essentially money loving that it is almost impossible to instill into their minds the Christian idea of benevolence. In denying the charge he gives the following instance of a self-sacrificing spirit: A Mr. Hiung had a brother-in-law of considerable influence in Pekin, through whom Mr. Hiung had the offer of a lucrative post as head of an important custom house. This position would have brought him about $90 per month clean money, with a chance of increasing this two or three fold. When the offer came, Mr. Hiung brought the letter to Dr. John, who asked him what he was going to do about it.
"You are in the wilderness with Christ," said the missionary. "The devil is offering you wealth and position, the two things which the Chinese covet most. What are you going to do?"
Mr. Hiung's reply was: "I have fully made up my mind to decline the offer. Matthew left the customs to follow Jesus. The devil wants me to leave Jesus to follow the customs. That will never do."
Mr. Hiung's wife, though a professed Christian, did not see the matter in the same light. She wished him to accept the post, on account of the good he could do with the money. But he remained firm, though he felt the trial of opposing his wife's wishes more than he did the money temptation.
"I understand," said he one day, "the story of Eden better now."—London Missionary Society Chronicle.
Retrenchment in Foreign Missions
The work of the American Board of Foreign Missions seems to be suffering on account of lack of funds. One of their missionaries writes from Turkey: "A great deal is said now of obstacles to the work in the Turkish Empire. All of them put together are simply nothing compared with the effect produced by the short word 'retrench.' We have dismissed all the teachers of our boys' school and shut up two pulpits, and in this way have been able so far to fight off the necessity of dismissing any of our ordained men. But we have accomplished this by letting buildings go, and by paying bills from our own pockets that should have come out of the mission treasury. As for enthusiasm, courage, hope, etc., of course that has gone—perhaps not wholly gone, but pretty much so."
Chinese Conversion to Catholicism
THE "conversion" of Chinese to Roman Catholicism is only a change of idolatry. In many cases the Chinese gods are simply transformed into images of various Catholic saints, Chinese in feature, every one of them. The zeal of the Roman emissaries is worthy of a better cause.
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THE SPIRIT OF GOD
By Ellet Joseph Waggoner
ITS OFFICES AND MANIFESTATIONS TO THE END OF THE CHRISTIAN ERA.
By Eld. J. H. Waggoner.
THIS is a brief but comprehensive argument on the solemn and important subject of the Spirit of God. Its chapters embrace the following heads: The Holy Spirit of Promise; The Power from on High; Circumcision of the Heart; The Unity of the Faith; The Law and the Testimony; Try the Spirits; The Great Commission; Gifts in the Reformation; In the Present Century; Spirit of Prophecy Restored. These are subjects of vital importance to all and especially to those who are looking for the return of their Lord. 144 pp. Price, 15 cents.
Address. PACIFIC PRESS. Oakland, Cal.
"Living by Faith." (Spanish.) A translation of Bible Students' Library No. 75; 16 pp.; price, 2 cents. Address. PACIFIC PRESS PUBLISHING Co., Oakland, Cal.