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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Seaforth News, 1923-12-20, Page 7e• THE HELPING HAND Ic.tif Christine Whiting Parmenter It was cold, and stormy, and dark. Mary Mathiesen, moving quietly about the kitchen, preparing supper, paused for e moment to be sure that the lo- custs slapping against the windows, did not frighten her baby, whom she had just tucked. in for the. night. As no pound came from above, she sought the dining room, switching on the lights as a welcome to Jini, her hue band, who was tramping the half mile from the station in the rain. When. she returned to the kitchen, the kettle was singing merrily. It seemed very nosy, Alegejetag,Oeteewith the rain beet- le eadin.,g* anst.the windlews. If only Jim r ree I-Ier thoughts were interrupted by an unexpected knock. It was a stras1 hour for a visitor. Opening the dooi; elle saw a boy in shabby raiment standing upon the little porch. "What cant do for you?" she asked as he did not speak. For a moment the boy was silent, peering into the room beyond, as if u search of something. He didn't ree: Mary's :friendly glance as'he.. said hoarsely, "I want a home. r ,� "A home!" echoed Mary in surprise. Ski stood back, motioning the boy to e'liber.. He obeyed sullenly, as if doing he :a favor. "Yor,e,hungry, aren't you?" said 111ai•y quietly. "Sit here by the table and I'll get your supper. Then you can tell me why you wanta home." He slumped into a chair, resting his elbows on the table and staring nerv- ously into every corner. He ate hun- grily the bread and milk which Mary see before him, watching her 'covertly as she moved about preparing her own supper. Mary was perfectly aware of his alert glances. He remind- ed her of a squirrel devouring a nut while in deadly fear of some alien in- terruption. When he had finished, she turned to him and smiledencourag- ingly. "So you want a home?" "Yes," answered the boy. He spoke slowly, as if reciting something. "I run away from Saint Luke's Orphan- age. I never had no ether home. No one would take me when I was little, because I had red hair. Then, one day, a farmer from out this way come for a boy. He picked me out o' the whole bunch—me—the biggest. I thought euro I was goin' to have a home, but all he wanted was a work horse. Look!" He stripped his shirt off one shoulder to show a mark,' ugly and new. "He done that, I run away, back to the orphanage, but they licked me. I've done with 'ems I want a home like other bays. I—" He stopped confused, and Mary looked down on him compassionately. "You poor boy]" -she said, gently. "I can't promise you a home; but Pll give yereee night's lodging and try to. eelee'r "You here alone?" asked the boy, suddenly; something cunning creeping into his eyes that repelled Mary. "No. I have my husband and baby girl. There's Jim now!" she added, joyfully; glad of Mathiesen's guiding hand in this problem. Mathiesen, who had entered by the front door, met her half way across the dieing room and hugged her ard• ently. "ft's—it's terrible for a boy to want a home, Jim," said Mary, gently. "I know," answered 1Vlathiesene lie leaned across the little table to give Mary's hand a squeeze. "Sometimes I feel like e sinner to have so much; but -I can't just see us adopting a, sixteen -year-old son!" Mary laughed. Then her face sob-; ered. `But we must do something, Jim." "Why, of course," responded Mathle- son, quickly. "We'll begin with a suit! of clothes. I'll bring, one out tomor- row, He'll have to swim round in my. wardrobe till afternoon. - He's small for sixteen; but, then, he looks as if he'd never had enough to oat." Mathiesen had departed for the city before their guest awoke next day. `li.Qary, tiptoeing into the boy's room, looked down with pity on a face which, in. seep, had lost its sullen lines, Yet, there was a hard expression to the paouth that she couldn't understand in e one so young. Then she remembered the livid bruise he had' displayed, and her heart melted. When, later, the boy came down, she set a bow] o£ oat- meal before him, and went 'tothe stove to turn a griddle cake, "Good morning," she said, cheer- fully. "I hope you like griddle cakes and maple syrup?" It was a question, but the boy made no answer as he seated himself before the oatmeal. It struck Mary that he might be embarrassed, so she' did not look at him. When, at length, she glanced him way, she had to suppress an astonishes] exclamation. He hard- ly looked like the same boy.'., He was smiling —it was the first smile Mary had seen --but he was smiling. neither at her nor at the prospect of griddle mikes and maple syrup. His smile' went straight to the corner where Baby Mathiesen reigned supreme i•, a fenced in spot, from which she'was grinning a friendly welcome. "I like kids," said the boy, suddenly. It seemed to Mary that it was the first natural speech that he had made. But he flushed at the words and looked stonily away from the. baby's' coquet- tish gaze. Mary lifted a golden cake from the spider. "That's good," she answered, calmly. "I'm going to ask you to look out for her til] nap time, I have 'so much to do. Mr. Mathiesen will be home early. He's going to bring you a suit of clothes. Yews look pretty well used "Clothes for mei" gasped the bop. "New ones?" "Yes, new ones! Ready for your cakes?" "Da, da," answered the baby, and the boy laughed. "Can't she have one, ma'am?" "Oh,- she had her breakfast long ago, said Mary. "Will you keep an eye on her while I make the beds? I'm late because I : didn't want to wake Y Mary knew tactfully,' that the boy' would enjoy his breakfast moreifhe: ate alone. When she returned he was on the floor beside the baby's fence, making, faces which Miss Mathiesen evidently considered a great accom- plishment. She wept when her mother took her up, and stretched out implor- ing hands to her new friend. "She'd rather play than go by -by, any day,"laughed Mary. "Perhape you'll carry her upstairs :while I: get her bottle. Then' she'll go to sleep in' the sun -room and you can do. what you want till lunchtime, Do you' like to read? There are lots of books and magazines in the living room." "Well, Jim," said Mary, after their guest had gone to bed the second night, "what do you think?" "I'm puzzled," replied Mathiesen, slowly. "I don't, get at him; Mary. He I a it p "Some storm!" he exclaimed, boy- ishly, "and some home' to. come in to out of the wet! I'm , hungry, Mary, and—„ Mary's finger on her lips caused him to stop abruptly. She closed the door, and in a few quick words told him of their self -invited guest. , "Poor kid!" said Mathiesen quietly Ile stepped into the kitchen,; holding out his hand in welcome, butt the boy did not, or would not, understand. He looked up suspiciously, as the man's hand dropped to his shoulder. "How old . are you?" questioned Mathiesen kindly. "Sixteen," answered the boy, Y, and "M-mmex," murmured Mathiesen looked do. at t He down he boy with eyes that couldn't be anything by kind, yet; seemed to demand the truth. "You're tired,. aren't you?" he asked. "And wet and cold. Mrs, Mathiesen has seen to your supper,, of course. Suppose you have a bath and go' to bed. To -morrow we'll have a talk. Is the guest room ready, Mary?" - She nodded, and the boy, still sullen, followed Mathiesen upstairs. Mary heard her husband moving about, evi- dently showing the boy where he, would sleep and giving. him- clean clothes. The water was running into the tub when Jim returned. In silence he helped Mary put supper on the table, and sighed with relief as he sat down. "I hope you gave that bo enough to eat, 'dear.. He's starved.Y gh His shoul- der blades are almost through the skin, and he has a bruise—" "I' saw it," said Mary quickly. " farmer who took him from the orphan age did it." "lif-mm, said Mathiesen again; then, quietly: "Sixteen years old and an orphan. Somehow—that doesn't sound' quite credible." "You think he lied?" whispered Mary,; one ear on sounds above - "Want any beets or carrots ma'am?" he asked. His wares were temptingly displa ed -and Mary decided that. she wants beets. "Joe, will you; bring •a 'dis from the pantry?" she called over h shoulder, as she made her selection. Thorn was no response. Sudden] Mary realized that the joyous shouts were stilled. Only the baby's voice,' raised in a hurt whimper, was audible.] Turning, she saw that the boy had vanished, though on the floor lay a y huddled shape tinder an old shawl.' Without a word, Mary brought the dish herself, paid the man and watch-; ed him depart before she crossed the room and lifted the shawl to disclose the boy. His face was white, though he forced an unnatural smile, "Peek-a-boo!" he laughed at the baby.. The baby crowed delightedly, but. Mary laid a hand on the boy's arm. "Joe—was that the farmer ` who. abused you?" i "Nope," said the boy, not meetin hoe. eyes. "I never see that man b eyee now, but something compassion -1L I ate in their depths stirred things long y- dormant in the boy's heart. d "I didn't come from no orphanage,", h he confessed, suddenly. he "I knew that," answered Mathiesen, ' "I inquired at Saint Luke's the day y,1 after you carie." "You knew I liedl" cried Joe, "and —and kept'me?" "Yes. You told Mrs, Mathiesen th you wanted 'a home, We were sorr you didn't trust us; but if a boy wan a home there's something good in him so we decided to trust you anyway. A shamed red crept into the boy cheek. Ile started to speak, but t words came as if they hurt. "It was a lie, sir. I didn't want n home—not then." Ancient New Year's Customs and Their Origin at Probably after Hallowe'en and y Christmas there is no festival of the to year so girt about with long -establish- , ed customs as New Year's Day. Ain- " ons the' best known of these are the 's auguries drawn from' what was called he the "Candlemas Bull" In Scotland and other northern countries the term o Candlemas, given to this season of the year, is supposed to have had its n origin in religious ceremonies per- t- formed by candle light, The candles t used were very large, and highly e ornamented, and were brought in at d the midnight hour to the assembled a guests, who, since the falling of dusk, - had been drinking freely of the was - g e - fore. I was just plasm' with th 1'aby, She likes for me to hide an then jump out at her." "All right," said Mary, but -the boy' white face and trembling hands di not escape her nor the fact that did not' return to the carefree romp He kept close to the house all day sometimes reading, sometimes starin into space, his brows knit in thought and, as the .hours passed, the bitte about his mouth which had been slowly vanishing, returned. At tin Mary caught him watching -her fur tively, as if he were trying to read her thoughts. In' the afternoon sh manufactured an errand to the vil lage in order to leave the baby in hi care. If she showed that she truste him with her dearest treasure, per haps, in time, he would trust her• Bu night found him still sullen. Not eve Mathiesen's kindly smile brought response. elle went to bed early, .,but fl Then why—" began Mathiesen, i genuine surprise, when Joe interru ed: "I didn't know nothin' abou homes=then. I read that all in th paper, how a guy went to a house an told' the folks that story wantin' home, and how he come from an in atitution. Then when they took hi e in and he got the run o' things, h d lit out with all the jewelry an money," "And got caught," supplemente d Mathiesen,-"and ' sent to prison. I rea t that story, too. And you thought paid?" , The .boy's voice shook. "I guesse g I could p08 it through," ho confesses miserably. -."I was goin' to bury t er stuff till the police stopped lookin' but-" est "Yes?" encouraged Mathiesen. -� "But—1—I liked the baby. I sort hated to be mean I'd most give u e thinkin' about that scheme; but whe I see that man again I—I wanted to s get even with—with somebody!" d His face hardened, and lois bre -C were seamed and angry. t! "You metol the farmer who cam lethis morning?" asked Mathiesen A. quickly... "Yes; hint that give ire this cut' I Ile pointed to his shoulder. "I was workin' for him—honest. I though I'd t r the country 0 Y for a spell; and Y P , 1 i one day he give his little girl a smack , that knocked her flat. I see red, sir and I lammed him one on the jaw. He el! had a whip in his hand and—" , 'i'he boy shuddered, and Mathiesen said compassionately,. "I' nnder'stand. You needn't tell me. And—and you thought we'd send you back to him?' "I thought, maybe, you'd think he . had a right to me.. I. ain't but four- teen year old. But I'd go to hell mister, before I'd go back to him. I run -off that night. I'd have burned - his barns for him- if I hadn't been afraid I'd burn his wife and. kids. 'I k didn't have nothin' to eat all next day. , It was then I remembered that boy t what asked for a home, and I looked in these windows and see all this sil- ver slrnin'. I—I thought it was grate , rieli guy's summer. place. I—didn't hardly know what a home was—then. II never got anything but knocks all my life. Oh, you don't know, sir! • You don't understand. You got' so much.Don't—don't ,, .-the world owe Inc sotitethin', mister?" "No," answered Mathiesen, sternly, I"not one thing." He paused, letting. ;,the words sink in. "Everything that i we want, Joe, we have to earn-- : arn- Ievea ytlting—even love, But" his voice softened, "I do understand, boy. When I was your age 1 was as alone as you. ' But if I hadn't. lived straight, and m' sail bowl. Then, in procession, they e marched out into the night; and to d their imaginations the passing clouds I assumed the shape of a bull. From d the rise and fall and general motions d of these clouds the seer foretold good xt• or bad weather. Sometimes, too, aug- uries for the future were gathered d from the state of the atmosphere on re, ane also Iron THE CHILDREN'S HOUR said g g b Prin cess Twinkletoes, and oho paid it very firmly, too, In England on New Year's Eve "Gracious!' said the 'Royal High the young women went about carrying' Nurse, "What are you going to do g 6 the "wassail. bowl" and'singing from then?" door to door certain verses -a custom "I'm going to watch the New Year which had much in common with the come in I" replied the princess, sitting hegmoiny practice in Scotland. Het; on a chair and hugging her g� g knees, and pint, the strange brew which in that' staring very hard at nothing. So the country was carried about in the': Royal High Nurse shrugged her ghoul- streets at midnight, was composed' of i dere and went away. She knew there ale, spirits, sugar, nutmeg or mints-: was nothing to be done after that. "'I'm not going to ed!" mon. It was a powerful potion, thea "What ideas that child gets!" she effects of which were almost inane -1 remarked to Smiles, the page -boy, who diately evident. Ritson in a collection held up the princess' train when she of ancient songs gives us a few sung wore one, to the quaffings of this .prince of l AT ra1Dl.UGIIT. "I think she gets beautiful ideas!" said Smiles loyally, .b'tci se he meant to do a very brave deed one day and marry the prixtcess when he grew up. "But I'll stay up to -night and see that no harm comes to her," he thought. So that night he hid behind the Notwithstanding the opposition stairs, and waited to see what the which it has met since the year 1811, princess would do. At a quarter to when many abuses were discovered in twelve she came out wrapped up in a the practice, the custom of hurrying fur cloak, and tip -toed down the grand staircase. After her went Smiles, he force and character of the wind. 1 heart has been practiced by many a keeping well in the shadow. In the imagination of most rima-! g P young lad in Anglo-Saxon countries. In the palace grounds the princess tive peoples, especially those.of the The young lady listened attentively crossed over to a little garden hut that North, who were forced to battle from the time the midnight bells cease had been specially built for her, where o against the elements of nature for life ed to ring to catch the first footfall on she sat down to wait for the New p and sustenance; . the eves' of great the floor. Year to come in, en feasts were considered occasions when The welfare of the family, par -:Smiles hldn ini the shadow of a tree., the spirits of good and evil were in: txcularly the fairer portion of it, was; trunk, and waited, too, though he was deadly conflict. The moment of mid-; supposed to depend upon the character; certain nothing would happen. brow night on New Year's eve was always of the first comer after the midnights But something did happen in a considered a time of special activity hour had sounded.' Great care was minute; e for the spirits of evil. In order to taken to exclude all improper per- Down the path came an old overcome them holier and mare pow -sons especially ' , p y .as the midnight in- followed by twelve ugly little dwarfs gather -printing a "hearty Inas on the lips t e said excitedly, folklore, and even from words The custom of bestowing gifts has "are you the New Yearee in their dialect, could be overcome by become so inextricably linked with the!, The old man and his twelve dwarfs an appeal to the good genii, the Itogh-i New Year's celebrations in Paris that' stared at her in astonishment for a , men, or hillmen. I New Year's Day is still called the'. moment. Probably imported from Italy was Jour d'Estrennce. This custom seems the. superstition that : on. New Year's' to have had its rise in the conduct of - WHEN THE YEARS MEET. eve- the "evil eye" was all the more' the nobles of the late Middle Ages, I "No, my dear," said he; "I am the malignant. Then, too, there was a' who were in the habit of bestowing' Old' Year, and these are my men. On widespread practice of the "setting of gifts upon their sovereign. ;this spot at five minutes to twelve we mete or drynke by nighto an the The giving of gifts was also very must fight the great yearly fight ovith honcho to fede Allholde or Gobiyn.", common in England among the people. ! the New Year. If we win the New In some of the dialogues of, the fa-' On Christmas Day, 'and often on St.' Year will not come in, and you will , mous medieval morality- play "Dives Stephen's Day, employers, parents and live the Old Year all over again. and Pauper" we find mention' of this masters presented Christmas boxes to' Think how splendid that will be!" and many other New Year's customs their dependents. It was a form of I "I should not like that at all!" said intended to counteract the activities' Christmas charity. On New Year's' the princess. "It would be so dull]" of the forces of evil. I Day, however, gifts were exchanged �� Dull! cried the Old Year fiercely. Perhaps what contributed most of between friends and acquaintances as1 • What do you mean by calling me this general fear of sinister influences a sign of good will. This custom, per- dull?" was the deep drhildng among the poo haps, had its origin in the box which And there's no saying what might pie, which continued almost uninter- was taken aboard every vessel that have happened if the New Year ruptedly from Christmas until New sailed out of port during the octave of hadn't turned up at that moment. Year's Day. tip to the ninth century, Christmas and which was not to bel The New Year was very young and except in the Syrian and Coptic opened until the return of the vessel.! very handsome, and the twelve gay churches, New Year's day was not Contributions were to be dropped into little elves that followed him were celebrated as a apeeial feast day, but this box, large or small, according as full of life. was looked upon as merely the octave the day had been propitious or other- Then, under the astonished gaze of' of Christmas. Therefore the Child,- wise. Hence the name of "Christmas the Princess Twinkle -toes and the hid- mas cheer was continued throughout boxes," which were given up to'and den page -boy, began the strangest the entire octave without abatement. including New Year's Day. Each 000 fight that they had ever seen! How It flickered up for'the last time on of these days became known as "Box- the two men and the elves fought New Year's Day, as is clear' from, the ing Day." At the present time the hand-to-hand. But the Old Year men 19th sermon of Augustine, Bishop of 26th of December is known as "Box- were bigger, and it soon became ap- Hippe. ing Day." parent that the drew Year was losing. Princess Twinkle -togs and Smiles were horrified. "Fight,' New Year, you must not lose!" cried the princess.', emus To: THE RESCUE. Such a noise they made, too, shout- ing and, racing about, that it was real- ly , a wonder'nobody in the _palace seemed to hear. Smiles woke up' to the fact that something had to be done. The New Year must win. It would be dreadful not to have.' a new`, year! Wh.'•. 11 would never be grown up if things like that happened! So, to the astonishment of the prin cess, who had not yet seen him, out rushed Smiles to the rescue of the New Year. The Old Year elves were o surprised that they fought rather badly, and in a few minutes were run- ning un ning away. They didn't like Smiles. Before long the Old Year found that all his men had deserted him, and he was forced to run away, too. "Ahl" cried the New Year. "We Have won!" And then suddenly from the palace ame the chimes of the clock striking twelve, "Bravo!" said the New Year to Smiles. "As a reward for your brave ery this new year shall be' the hap- iest you have yet had. Farewell!" And he marched on, followed by the twelve elves, singing a grand song of riumph. "Smiles," cried Princess Twinkle - toes, running towards him, "how did you get here?" "I followed your Highness," s,riur miles, "just to see that no halm ane to you." "Well," she said, taking his hand, how brave of • youl You were splen- d. We must go back to the palace ow, but to -morrow I will ask my ather to make you a knight!" And so'Smiles became a knight, and later on he married the princess and lived happily ever after. Usually Chronic, Maid—"I couldn't come yesterday, Miss Jackson, I was suffering that bade ly with pain in my chest" Mistress—"What -was it, Malkin)? DYebePela?" Maid—"Yes, it was. But the, doctor, he Calls it an attack of acute Indlsore- tion." liquors, old` or new." One such is: "A jolly; weasel bowl, A wassel of good ale, Well fare the butler's soul That setteth this to sale; Our jolly wassell" first across the threshold of his sweet- eta]r they could hear him tossing restlessly until they slept. "Poor boy," said Mathiesen, gently If only he'd say what's on his mind If he doesn't confide in you tomorrow I'll tackle him at night. I can't di vulge my plans for him until' I fe he's to be trusted. He's not sixteen Mary. I'm sure of that." It was late that night, when: Mary was soundly sleeping, that Mathiesen awoke with a sense , of something wrong, He sat up in bed and listened All was quiet for a while -then, from the dining room'below, sounded a stealthy footstep. Mathiesen slipped out of bed, reached with unerring in strict for his blanket wrapper, and crept downstairs. Through a' cram in the closed door of the dining room a faint' light was visible. It didn' occur to Mathiesen that he might need a weapon. His hand closed firmly on the door knob which yielded quietly so quietly that the boy standing before the sideboard, did not know ho was interrupted. Then he turned, stifling a frightened cry. Mathiesen's keen eyes, ata glance toolc-in the scene. before him, Dressed once more in his old clothes, his cap pulled low over his eyes, stood Joe, grasping in one hand what looked like a pillow case, the contents of which clinked queerly as he moved. The sideboard was swept bare of.Mary's silver candlesticks and dishes. Only the baby's porringer remained, telling its own stoiy. Mathiesen drew a quick breath. Then he came nearer, took the boy's burden from him, and said, quietly: "Suppose we sit down, Joe, and talk it over." The boy obeyed, trembling. "Take off your cap," said Mathiesen kindly. He was quietly removing the silver from the pillow case, laying it upon the dining table, and talking, giving the boy a chance to pullhirnself together. "These candlesticks were a wedding gift from Mr. Carey for whom. I work,' he explained, calmly. "Mrs. Mathiesen is very fond of them. They're worth a good deal of money, am sure. And this dish came from stenographer in my office. I sup- ose it took her a whole week to earn , maybe' more. These salts and pep - ere are hardly worth the trouble of! carrying away. They wouldn't bring. much; but we love them because a little sick girl, in the house where I sad to board, spent all her savings give them to- us. The forks and peons we'll miss, of course. I sup- ose I've been careless about burglar surance.. Somehow I never •thought tat anyone would steal from us; be- ause, really we haven't very much.` A smothered protest carne :from the oy,` and Mathiesen sat down sudden - before him, "Now—" he began, but oe interrupted hoarsely: `I know your vane! You'll just keep me talkie' till the cop you've sent for gets here." "No," answ,ered Mathiesen, quietly, "I haven't sent for any cop. In fact, I' don't know where to find one out here in the country. Pll make a bargain with you, if you like. If you'll ans- wer er my questions truthfully,. I'll promise not to send for an officer in any case—even if you walk off with Mrs. Mathiesen's treasures. Isn't that fair?" Joe didn't answer, and Mathiesen chose to take silence for consent.. "Let's begin at the beginning," he said, kindly. "How old are you, Joe?" The boy hesitated—then blurted out defiantly: "I'm goin' on fifteen, any - 'Way,„ And why did you tell us you were older?" "I thought," began the boy, then raised his head, and for the first time met Mathiesen's eyes. They were sterni erful influences had to be invoked. The truder enjoyed the privilege of lee-, The princess was so excited that she evil spirits or genii as can be ' "h t " ran out to meet them. d from the Icelandic an Anglo-! of the expectant lassie. 1"Oh lea e" Saxon fol I P s , she liked the clothes, oh! tremendously; but he watched ins while he was dress- ing as if he thought I had an axe to grind or was going to spring some- thing unpleasant on him. He told the same story, though, that he told last night; and when he's alone for any length of time, he looks sullen. The only time he acts like a real boy is to when he's with the baby; and that's s queer, too, for most boys would take p pains to hide the fact that they liked in to amuse a baby. We'll keep him here ti - a day or two, dear, if you don't mind. c Perhaps, when he gets used to us, I he'll talk more freely," The day or two grew into.a fort- b night, at the end of which Mathiesen, ly J who was aecustomed to receiving everybody's confidences confessed him- self baffled." The boy had a confusing way of wading questions or answer- ing them in a way that revealed no- thing Ho ieminds me of a shrewd law- yer" Mathiesen complained, one morn- ing. "He has brains -that boy; but we can't keep him here indefinitely, Mary. It's too:much for you.'I've got a scheme—" Mary didn't hear the scheme just then, because the baby demanded her mother's presence, and when she re- turned Jim was ready for his train. Later, the boy—he had told them his ache was Joe—brought in an armful f kindlings and, dropping them into he box, got down on his knees for a. romp with Mary's baby. It was a oily romp, but Mary only smiled at he joyous youth of it. She turned n surprise,, when the door opened to !unit a man whose knock she had not eard. n Jim smiled. "Oh, we'll give him the benefit of'the doubt. He needs erten- n tion anyway. To -morrow's Saturday t and 171 come out early. You keepliim i busy through the morning and Pll t lk a with him when I get home." h kept my soul and body clean, do you think for a moment I'd be where I am, to -day, with a home like this, and friends who care for me, and a wife and baby to love and work for?" He waited, but as the boy was silent he went on slowly. "We reap what we sow, son. There is nothing truer; and if you live honestly, and play fair, and hold out a helping hand to the man below,: sometime, sooner or later, the'rewaxd comes—if it's only the sat- isfying knowledge of days well lived." Tho boy looked up. His eyes were bright, because back of his eyelids there were tears. ` "What -what'll I do, sir?" he asked' humbly. "I hope you know," went on Mathie- sen, as if he had not' heard the ques- tion, "that if I could, I'd, give you the, home you asked for. But Ten not rich, Joe -far from it -and I have a wife and ,baby, as well as an old mother, whom I have to consider; but -I've another plan for you " `. The boy was leaning forward, scarcely breathing, as Mathiesen went on quietly: "I've got you. a job as ele- vator boy le-vator'boy in our office' building.: It's easy work that will leave you time to' read and study,: which is what you need, You'll learn enough for your needs at present; but I don't want you in a cheap boarding-house.` You need a home, and I think I've found you one." "Where?" questioned the boy, breathlessly. "I have a friend who's worked in our office for' twenty years, She had a snug little home with her mother, who died a year ago. This seemed to lx take away all her courage. She wasn't well, and the firm decided that she de- served a rest. So, last January, they retired her on a liberal pension,- and ,t told her 'to'take life easily, "But that didn't do the trick., The truth was, she was lonely, and one day, when she was staying here, Mrs. b Mathiesen had an inspiration. `Miss s Garnet,' she said, 'why don't you adopt „b a baby?' 1 "Well -she did! She'd always want- t ed to, but thought her friends would_u disapprove. She's very happy now, P but she needs someone she. can trust to bring up wood, and ten -1 the fur- s naee, and be a big brother to her, s baby, Would you like to try?" I The boy looked up, still shaken, 1 "Is -is she like your niissis?" he P hesitated.' i Mathiesen smiled. . "She's not s young,' nor perhaps so pretty, bu she's awfully nice. And the baby—' "I bet it's not as good as our baby!' said the boy suddenly. 0 ing quietly, he went out and closed the oor. e new how the boy would choose. Mary would finish the task he had begun.—New' Success. Had Mathiesen's over -burdened heart. needed`. warming, that tribute to his wee daughter would have done it. But before he could reply, the boy's eyes crept tothesilver on the table and he gasped, As if suddenly remind- ed of some dreadful thing he had for- gotten, while Mathiesen, watching him closely, said quietly: "It's in your hands now, Joe. I gave you my word; and if you still want to carry away our silver, I shan't stop you. But if you wish, you can be son to Miss` Garnet, andsearn the friendship we want to give you. It's for you to choose; and, I think, you're man enough to choose the right." Then the boy, still staring at' the silver, voiced the thought' born of his new-found sense of shame: `But -but what'll she think, sir?" His eyes crept from Mary's trea- sures to the room above, and Mathie- sen smiled. 18 was a smile that had healed many a hurt heart before, and now it fell like balm on a tortured soul. The Year's End. Full happy is the man who comes at last Into the safe completion of his year; e Weathered the perils of his spring, that blast How many blossoms promising and. dear! And of his summer, with dread.pas- Slone fraught That oft,- like fire, through the ripening corn, a Blight all with'mocking death and leave distraught Loved ones to mourn the ,ruined waste forlorn.. But now,. though autumn gave but harvest slight, Oh, grateful is he to the powers above For : winter's .. sunshine, and the lengthened night By hearthsido genial with the c warmth of love.' Through silvered days of vistas gold and green Contentedly he glides away, serene. "I have no'secrets from my -wife, Joe," he said quietly, "but this is' your secret, and if you want' me to keep it—" "Oh, would you?"cried the boy breathlessly. His head. went down amid the silver on the: table, while the stormthathad been gathering shook his, slender form. Mathiesen arose, and a feeling of elplessness crept over him. 110 knew that the boy needed the comfort one would give a child,:yet' he had ap-i pealed to him as a man, and that hought he must leave intact, If Mary were, only here- Then, to his joy. he saw her in the doorway. Her eyes held his • for a rid moment—swept past him to the jiver on the table—to the boy's head owed amid his plunder—to the baby's onely porringer—mute witness for he defence, and Mary, being Mary,. nderstood. Shecrossedthe room and ut her arms about the boy. "You hadn't any mother, had you?" he said, tenderly, "You didn't under - tend: There, There." She might have been comforting her own baby, thought her husband. Ile aused a moment, looking down ador-i ngly'at her bowed head, There turn. m_ P A Prayer. Oh, young New Year, take note these t things from me— The olden faiths; the shining loyalty 01 friends the bitter, searching years have proved— The glowing hearth; fires, 'and > the 5 • books I loved; c All wonted kindnesses and welcom- ing— " Al] safe, hard -trodden paths to which di I cling. n f Oh, gay New Year, glad with the thrill of spring Leave me the ways that were my comforting! —Laura Simmons. To every reader, young and old, we extend our ;heartiest New Year's greetings and best wishes fora most prosperous and happy 1924. • This' is the best season of the year for the farmer to turn over a leaf in his account book. Let us fully resolve to hasp our good resolutions Paderewslci, the famous pianiet, who is 'sixty-three years of age, is a keen billiard player.