THE CHILD'S PAPER. "HERE AM I, FOR THOU DIDST CALL ME. SPEAK, LORD, FOR THY SERVANT HEARETH." THE CHILD'S PAPER. "HERE AM I, FOR THOU DIDST CALL ME. SPEAK, LORD, FOR THY SERVANT HEARETH." COPYRIGHT, 1882, BY AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. AN AFRICAN LION. THIS picture is from a drawing made from life, and represents a black mane South African Lion. The artist who made the original drawing said, "He was certainly the most splendid specimen of a lion I ever saw, and was a sort of animal that, while looking at him through the bars and admiring his wonderful proportions, one could not help feeling a large amount of satisfaction at being on the right side of the bars, and well out of the reach of those terrible paws." The lion is called the "King of beasts" because of his strength and dignity. But some of those who know his habits well, deny that he has any great amount of courage, except when is he wounded and furious. They call him, indeed, a sneak. You see, it takes more than size or strength to make even a lion noble. True nobleness means character, not bodily size or power. If then the lion is not really noble, but only strong and cruel, we would much rather see him in a picture, or behind the bars of a cage, than to meet him where he had a chance to spring upon us, and torment us as a cat does a mouse. THE STORY OF THANKSGIVING. "WHAT does it all mean, mamma?" asked little Ralph. It was Thanksgiving morning. Mamma, at the kitchen table, was preparing the turkey for the oven, and Ralph, all ready to go to church with Aunt Nellie, stood watching her thoughtfully. "What does what mean, dear?" Mamma turned with the needle in her hand, and looked curiously at Ralph. "Why, Thanksgiving. What makes us have Thanksgiving Days every year, and did people always have them?" "Oh, that is it," said mamma. "Well, I will tell you, Ralph. Thanksgiving Day was not always kept yearly by the American people as it is now, though its regular observance began very early in some parts of the country. This was its origin: Long years ago some people lived in old England whom other folks who had power treated very badly. These became so discouraged, so tired of persecution, that they left their homes, and at last resolved to go and settle in the great New World about which they had heard so much. So they packed their goods, and with their families sailed across the big ocean to America. Here, in the place they named New England, they found the freedom they could not enjoy at home, but their sufferings were very great. England was a good land, but America was then mostly a wilderness; and between cold and hunger and other hardships, life to those poor exiles grew very, very dreary. But they were Christian people; they trusted in God, although it was a belief of theirs that when they were unfortunate He was frowning on them, and when they were prosperous He smiled. For this reason, they soon began setting apart regular days for fasting and for giving thanks; the latter usually in autumn, and the former towards spring. "The first Thanksgiving Day celebrated in this colony fell, however on an appointed fast-day--the 22d of February, 1631. It happened in this way: The people had been in great distress all winter. Food was getting scarce; the ship which had been sent to England for supplies had not returned, and it was feared that it was lost. As the fasting day drew near, the people were all discouraged. It was rumored that even the great governor's last batch of bread was baking in the oven, and that was a sorry prospect. But God did not desert his children; on the very night before the appointed fast-day, loud cries of joy were heard from the few who were still watching for the ship. They had descried it, and presently into port it came, full laden for the suffering people. So the fast-day was ordered changed to a thanksgiving day, and we may believe they had a joyful time. "The setting apart of thanksgiving days was not altogether confined to the New England States. Settlers in other parts sometimes appointed them, but it was long before it became a yearly custom--not in New York till the year 1817. But once started, it grew very popular; the governors began to issue proclamations, and Thanksgiving Day has become now as much a part of the year as Fourth of July or Christmas; I am sure I do not know how we would ever do without it." "O mamma," Ralph broke in eagerly, as she paused, "how glad I am I know about it! Those poor people had a great deal to be thankful for, but I'm sure I have more. When I think of all the nice things and pleasant times I have--oh, mamma, what a thankful time I'll have in church this morning?" Surely we should all, big and little folks, have a thankful time this season, thinkingHow bounteously our ships come inWith each Thanksgiving Day.Rosa Graham. How bounteously our ships come in With each Thanksgiving Day. WHAT A LITTLE THING CAN DO. THE picture is of a creature called "Gompora Columna." That is a rather hard name, is it not? It belongs to one kind of a coral insect. The insect, a little thing, is of the kind of creature known as polypes. They are the little things that look almost like flowers, on the top of those two branching arms in the picture. These polypes, which are mainly mouth and stomach, secrete the hard bony coral, just as bones grow in the human body, only, of course, the amount that each of these little creatures can form is very small. But then each little helps. That coral in the main stem and branches, in the engraving, has all been formed by polypes like the little ones that are at work above. So, slowly but surely the branches grow. They extend out in different directions, and in the great coral beds, such as are found in the Pacific Ocean, they gradually grow till they make reefs. From these reefs the coral islands are formed. But you can very easily see that it requires the labor of countless polypes to make even a small island. But this work of the coral insect, it seems to me, shows us the value of little things. A great many little polypes make the coral island. A great many little acts go into the making of character. We must be careful that all of these acts are right. Then there is another way of looking at it. They are only little things that a child can do. But these little things may be very helpful and useful. So, children, do not hesitate to do what you can, because these things may be little in themselves. Do your best, however little may seem the thing that you can do. That is the safe rule. OAK. SOPHY. "SOPHY," said Miss Rogers, the English governess, to a dark-eyed girl of twelve, "You are invited to drive with the Percivals to Magnolia Garden at nine to-morrow morning. You must study an extra hour this afternoon. Let us go to our lessons now." Miss Rogers' voice was full of kindliness, and she laid her hand on Sophy's brown curls in an encouraging manner. Sophy hated study. "I'd like to know things, but this dull, tedious way of finding them out do n't suit me," she said to her brother Guy, one day. "I like to draw, and my music lessons, but oh, dear! that dreadful grammar and geography." Then Sophy laid her head down on the window-seat, and wished she was a butterfly with nothing to do but to flit from flower to flower. It was a lovely May morning, redolent with every perfume known to the Southern soil; in two weeks it would be time for the summer vacation. "Then," thought Sophy to herself, "I can visit and have as good a time as I wish." Sophy forgot, or rather did not wish to remember, that the mind is a storehouse, where from day to day we must lay by the treasures and supplies for all the future years. Grace Percival was of the same age; and as Sophy declared, 'she liked the most of all to go anywhere with Mrs. Percival and Grace, for they had lived always in Charleston,' and Sophy had only come there with her parents and governess six months before. Then Mrs Percival and Grace were so entertaining. Sophy did not pause to consider that this was because Mrs. Percival had improved her time and taught Grace to do the same. Sophy believed that persons had a "gift" for studying or not studying; which is all a mistake, for when we are really determined to do a thing, we can do it, whether we like it or no. Grace Percival said, "I will have my lessons correctly," and then she applied her mind to study, without allowing herself to think of what she would do if it were not for those "horrid lessons." "If I could only draw maps, instead of bothering with the boundaries of Maine and New Hampshire, the principal cities, and all that stuff!" thought Sophy, when her teacher spoke of the extra hour. "It is n't a bit of use to propose it, though, for Miss Rogers is as firm as a rock," which was a very good thing for Sophy, if she had only known it, and she did realize it later on in life. "If the Cloth of Golds are in bloom yet, I'll get some buds for Aunt Nina and send to her--bounded on north by"--then for the third time Sophy, whose mind was here and there, had to refer to the map for the northern boundary of Maine. The wind sang in the branches of the old pine which stood by the schoolroom window, "With all your might! with all your might!" but instead, Sophy thought it was saying, "Come out into the sunshine and hear the mocking bird sing." Our ears have to be ready to hear, else we do not get things straight sometimes. Sophy knew very well that unless her lessons were well learned, her mother would not consent for her to go pleasuring the next day. Maine and New Hampshire had never been mixed up in such a dreadful way before, thought Miss Rogers when Sophy came to recite. It gave her much pain to report "very imperfect lessons" to Sophy's mother that evening. There was a very heavy feeling at Sophy's heart, and a pair of tear-stained eyes, when Miss Rogers sent a note to the Percivals asking that Sophy be excused, as she could not possibly go. If Sophy had known the deep anxiety which she caused her friends, she would have mended her careless ways much sooner than she did. A year later she gave her heart to God; then Sophy began to improve, relying not on her own strength, but on that mightier arm which can and will sustain in all times and all places. E. S. L. Thompson. "I HAD TO." LITTLE Effie had spent several weeks with us, going home only for an occasional day. Once she stayed with her friends over the Sabbath. The day was long, and she was restless, because no one read to her there and she could not read well herself. After a while an uncle called; he was out of tobacco and wanted some badly. He was ashamed to be seen at the tobacconist's on the Lord's day, and sent this child for the vile weed. Effie took the money, and soon returned with the paper of tobacco; but she kept thinking it over after her return, and finally told us of it. "Was it right, Effie, to buy things on God's day?" I inquired. "No, ma'am!" What made my little girl do so?" "I had to!" "Had to do wrong, and break God's commandment, who says, 'Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy'?" "Yes, ma'am!" "No, my child, you did not have to do so; you must never do so again, but tell your uncle, or any one who bids you do such a thing, that it is disobeying God to do so. If he had asked me to buy an article on God's day, do you think I should have done so?" "No, ma'am." "Why not?" Little Effie thought a long time, and then answered, "Because you love God." Auntie Dee. WOODING UP. IT is a lively scene--the brilliantly lighted boat lying at the wharf, while the crew carry the wood on board that is to be burned in the furnaces, to make the steam for the engines. Great flaring torches give light in the wood yard. There is a glare from the tops of the tall chimneys as the furnace fires glow. And far up in the sky the quiet stars burn on serenely. Pretty soon there will be wood enough taken on board, and then they will cast off the lines, and the great wheels will turn, and the pilot will be at his post, and the boat will go swiftly along on its voyage. But it must burn the wood to make the steam, or else the engines would stand still. So, if you want the engines of your mind to run, you must stop sometimes to "wood up." You must read and think, so as to give your mind something good to work upon. And you must ask the Great Pilot, the loving Saviour, to guide you so that your course in life will be right. EDITOR'S CORNER THE other day I was called to attend the funeral of a little boy whom I knew very well, as he was a neighbor and playmate of my own children. He had not been sick very long, and, indeed, almost before we knew that he was seriously ill, we were told that he was dead. He looked very natural as he lay in his little coffin; it almost seemed as if he were only lying in a little bed, and when he had had his sleep out would get up. But no; he had been buried out of human sight--that is, his body has been. His soul has gone to be with Jesus. Now why do I tell you about death, children? Certainly not because I think you are all likely to die at once. I suppose that most of you who read these words have a good many years yet to live. That at least is what we call the probability, in your case. But the death of this little friend of mine has impressed upon me the uncertainty of the life even of children. So I want to lead you to think about the matter. If your father had told you that he was going to take you on a long journey some time, he could not say just when, you would be very sure to have all your preparations made so that you could go at any time. You would not want to be hurried off unprepared. Now there is just one thing certain in regard to the future of every one of us, and that is that some time we must die--take the great journey into eternity. If we are wise, we shall be ready for that journey, shall we not? For, think a moment, children; if we are ready to die, we are ready to live. If you now, while you are children, are ready to take the great journey out into eternity, you are really ready to live here. Because, to be prepared for that journey means to love Jesus and trust in him, and so to be sure of being happy with him for ever. Certainly it is just this that makes us fit to live. So, however strangely it may sound, we are not ready to live till we are ready to die. It does not make our life one single day shorter to be ready for the end of life. But it should make us happier to know that we are ready to go on the great journey whenever our Heavenly Father calls us. Indeed how can any one, even the little child, be really happy, when he knows that he may be called to die at any time, and that he is not ready? So I think there is a useful lesson for you, dear children; not a sad, gloomy lesson, out of the coffin of my little friend. Be ready for death, even though you may expect to live till your hair is white. Ready for death, you are ready for life now and for evermore. NANNIE'S QUESTION. BY LUCY RANDOLPH FLEMING. OH, what do they sing in heaven? There by the great white throne, Where the light is clear as crystal, And the walls of jasper stone; "Where the beautiful streetare golden, The gates of pearl most fair, And the tree of life by the river Sheds healing everywhere. "You tell of the countless numbers Who stand in the blood-washed throng. Nor cease their loud hosannas-- Oh, what is that blessed song? "For when I get to heaven, And see the Jesus--King, I hope there will be a little song That little ones can sing. "Did you say it is a new song, Of Moses and the Lamb? I know those dear old stories, And, oh, how glad I am! "For if it is all about Jesus, 'T will not seem hard or new; For he loved the children here on earth, And he'll love in heaven too. "And if they sing of his goodness, His death upon the tree, I think there will be in that sweet song A little part for me." THE OLD FOOT-STOVE. THEO came banging down the attic stairs as though he was bringing the roof with him. "What is the matter now?" Grandpa said, pushing his spectacles clear to the middle of the "bald spot" on top of his head. "Oh, that boy!" sighed mamma, turning a small jacket, out at the elbows, over in her lap. Just after the exclamation point, the small boy entered, dragging a queer-looking article behind him. "Is that all?" said grandpa, relieved. "I thought it must be a piece of the chimney, sure." "It's like a contribution box, only more so," said Theo, nodding to the object behind him. "Why, Theo!" said mamma. "Or a cornpopper. Mamma, is it a cornpopper?" "Ask grandpa," said mamma. But grandpa was laughing so to himself that at first he could not answer, and Theo had time for another examination of his treasure. It was something like a cornpopper in shape. It had a square wooden frame for a box, and inside that a little iron or tin box with the top pierced thickly with little holes. There were no sides to the wooden frame, and the little box pulled out in front like a drawer. When Theo looked inside he saw it was gray and like the inside of their ash-pail. "What is it, grandpa; do tell," he urged. Grandpa stopped laughing, and took the little boy on his knee. "It's a foot-stove, Theo," he said. "A foot-stove, what's that?" was the question. "Well, my boy, you can hardly realize that your old grandpa, with the white hairs and "bare spot" on his head and the hitch in his step, was once a boy, can you? But I was, though it's almost seventy years ago, now, since I was about your size and able to ask as many questions and make as much noise as you any day. In those times they did n't have any furnaces in the churches, with nice registers for warming your feet as they do now." "Nor stoves either?" questioned Theo. "No, nor any stoves. People expected a good sermon an hour or more long would keep them warm, I suppose. But the old ladies were allowed to have these little foot-stoves, and the drawer was filled with hot ashes and coals and set down by their place. Many a time did my dear mother push it over to me and warm my poor stiff feet before I lay down for my nap--for the minister did n't preach to children in those days. Well, one Sunday, when I was about as large as you, it was so bitterly cold that my mother filled the box with the very hottest coals from the fire-place and told me I might run on with it, and get my feet nice and warm on it before she got there. But she charged me to be sure and remember that it was the Sabbath day, and not play by the way. I was muffled up so warm and ran so fast that I did not think of being cold, and when, just as I was almost to the church, Johnny Green, the "bad boy of the village" stepped out from a barn door and told me what a splendid slide for sleds there was out of sight behind the barn, I was tempted and went 'just for one ride.' Setting my stove on a drift I got on his sled behind him, and away we flew. It was a splendid ride, but I hurried back up the long hill and looked for my stove. It was gone. A wind had blown it off the drift, and the hot coals had melted a place for it in the snow. We looked and looked for it, and it was after the "long prayer" before, half frozen, I crept into my father's pew door. Mother snuggled me up close to her and gave me caraway seed, and Aunt Becky passed over her stove from the next pew. But ah, my boy, after we got home and I had had supper and confessed the whole, then father took the big Bible and a birch switch and laid them together, and after carefully reading the Fourth Commandment from the one, he very vigorously and warmingly applied the other. I have never forgotten either." "But the foot-stove, grandpa?" "Ah, yes, dear, we never found it until the snow went off in the spring, but it had taught me a good lesson--yes, several. See if you can find them out." Howe Benning. THE SWIFTEST OF ALL. WHAT is swifter than the rail-car? The telegraph. What is swifter than the telegraph? Lightning. What is swifter than lightning? Thought. What is swifter than thought? He who has said, "Before they call I will answer; and while they are yet speaking I will hear." Isa. 65:24. PRECEPT-PROMISE-PRAYER. REMEMBER the Sabbath day to keep it holy. Ex. 20:8. Blessed is the man that keepeth the Sabbath from polluting it, and keepeth his hand from doing any evil. Isa. 56:2. My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh crieth out for the living God. Psa. 84:2. New Books, FALL, 1882. Captive, Yet Conqueror.By Miss Fanny Hooker. Depicting the thrilling events that ended in the fall of Jerusalem, and many charming scenes of Jewish and Roman home-life.12mo. 392pp. 4 cuts. $1 50. Quiet Corners.By Howe Benning. A choice tale for young ladies who wish to be something and do something in the world.12mo. 373 pp. 4 cuts. $1 50. Victory at Last.By Miss Trowbridge. The record of a hard fight, and complete triumph over a fearfully strong habit.12mo. 232 pp. 4 cuts. $1. Pen-Pictures from Life.A gallery of interesting sketches of real life, illustrating Christian life, labors, and successes.12mo. 211 pp. 9 cuts. $1. Drierstock.By Miss Bates. A life-picture of a frontier village--with many thrilling scenes.12mo. 193 pp. 3 cuts. $1. Mawedo:THE PALM-LAND MAIDEN. By Rev. R. H. 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The Illustrated Christian Weekly - - - - -1 copy, $2 50 postpaid. Deutscher Volksfreund - - - - - " 2 25 " MONTHLIES. Am. Messenger,5copies to one address,$1 00; or$1 10postpaid."20"3 50; or3 90""40"6 00; or6 80""100"15 00; or17 00" Amerikanischer Botschafter. Terms same as Amer. Messenger. Child's Paper as below. Morning Light, 8 copies, $1; 40 copies, $5; 100 copies, $12: all postpaid. Single subscription to either of the monthlies, 30 cts., postpaid. Apples of Gold weekly,with a beautiful chromo No. once in three months: single copy per year, 50 cts.; 10 or more, 35 cts. each, postpaid. Address AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 150 Nassau Street, New York, or any of the Society's agencies. TERMS OF THE CHILD'S PAPER FOR 1882. 8copies to one address- - - - -$1,all postpaid.100" "- - - - -12," Any number exceeding one hundred, at the same rates. "ENTERED AT THE POSTOFFICE AT NEW YORK AS SECOND-CLASS MATTER."