worse still, is another child in the same family, he is hated and despised His virtues become obnoxious, and the unfortunate evildoer prefers to be vicious, that he may not resemble a creature whose praises have so continually been sung that his very name is odious.

If the child grows accustomed to the comparison of himself with others, and the endeavor to excel them, he becomes selfish, envious, and either vain of his virtue and attainments, or else thoroughly disheartened at his small success, while he grudges that of his neighbor George Macdonald says: "No work noble or lastingly good can come of emulation, any more than of greed. I think the motives are spiritually the same."

To what can we appeal, then, in children, as motives to goodness, as aids in the formation of right habits of thought and action? Ah? the child's heart is a harp of many strings, and touched by the hand of a master a fine, clear tone will sound from every one of them, while the resultant strain will be a triumphant burst of glorious harmony.

Touch delicately the string of love of approval, and listen to the answer.

The child delights to work for you, to please you if he can, to do his tasks well enough to win your favorable notice, and the breath of praise is sweet to his nostrils It is right and justifiable that he should have this praise, and it will be an aid to his spiritual development, if bestowed with discrimination. Only Titanic strength of character can endure constant discouragement and failure, and yet work steadily onward, and the weak, undeveloped human being needs a word of approval now and then to show him that he is on the right track, and that his efforts are appreciated. Of course the kind and the frequency of the praise bestowed depend entirely upon the nature of the child.

One timid, self-distrustful temperament needs frequently to bask in the sunshine of your approval, while another, somewhat predisposed to vanity and self-consciousness, needs a more bracing moral climate.

There is no question that cleanliness and fresh air may be considered as minor aids to goodness, and a dangerous outbreak of insubordination may sometimes be averted by hastily suggesting to the little rebel a run in the garden, prefaced by a thorough application of cool water to the flushed face and little clenched hands; while self-respect may often be restored by the donning of a clean apron.

Beauty of surroundings is another incentive to harmony of action. It is easier for the child to be naughty in a poor, gloomy room, scanty of furniture, than in a garden gay with flowers, shaded by full-leafed trees, and made musical by the voice of running

water.

Dr. William T. Harris says: "Beauty cannot create a new heart, but it can greatly change the disposition," and this seems unquestionable, especially with regard to the glory of God's handiwork, which makes goodness seem "the natural way of living" Yet we would not wish our children to be sybarites, and we must endeavor to cultivate in their breasts a hardy plant of virtue which will live, if need be, on Alpine heights and feed on scanty fare.

(Concluded next month.)

A DREAM OF YOUTH.

I dreamed that I was young again,
And the sky was blue and fair,
That I stood once more by mother's side,
And she stroked my sunny hair:
The robins sang in the apple boughs,

As they sang in the days of yore,
And the silver waves on the pebbles white
Murmured and laved the shore.

'Twas a summer day, a perfect day,

And the dandelion feathers flew: The sun from the Orient, young and bright, Silvered the sparkling dew;

A meadow lark sang above me,

The daises covered the ground,
And I basked in the rays of other days,
'Mid familiar scenes around.

I heard the shouts of boys and girls,
As I rested under the shade
Of giant, white-limbed buttonwood trees,
That stood by a path to the glade,
Where the cool crystal spring from a mossy
rock

Burst forth as I stood by its brink;
The face of a sad old man looked up,
As I bent o'er the waters to drink.
The face and form of a bent old man,

That I never had seen before,
But yet there was something familiar
In the countenance he wore,
And the scanty locks of steel-gray hair
That over his face were blown
By the summer breeze, fell back again,
And the face was all my own.

"The dream" was ended, I bowed my head And wept for the buried past,

And the golden opportunities

And shadows that folly cast

Over days of duty, and work undone,
That darken through life my track;
And I cried in deepest anguish:
"Come back; Oh! youth, come back!"
-Henry Tarring Eckert.

A little way! I know it is not far

To that dear home where my beloved are;
And still my heart sits like a bird upon
The empty nest, and mourns its treasures
gone,

Plumed for their flight,
And vanished quite,

Ah, me! where is the comfort though I say
They have just journeyed on a little way.

A little way! at times they seem so near,
Their voices even murmur in my ear.
To all my duties loving presence lend,
And with sweet ministry my steps attend.
'Twas here we met aud parted company;
Why should their gain be such a grief to me?

This sense of loss!

This heavy cross!

Dear Savior, take the burden off, I pray,
And show me heaven is but-a little way.

A little way! the sentence I repeat,
Hoping and longing, to extract some sweet
To mingle with the bitter from thy hand
I take the cup I cannot understand,
And in all my weakness give myself to thee-
Although it seems so very, very far

To that dear home where my beloved are,
I know, I know,

It is not so:

Oh! give me a faith to believe it when I say That they are gone-gone but a little way.

-Selected.

"Does the seed that you strive to scatter

In the furrows, broad and deep. Seem to fall unseen by the wayside, Where the fowls their wild revels keep; Or 'mong the rank thorns and briers, By the rank growth chilled so soon, Or on stony ground so shallow

That they wither away ere noon?

"Take heart and be not discouraged,
For some tear-wet seed shall fall
In soil that is rich and fertile;
Upspringing soon at his call,
Who heedeth e'en all thy sowing,
And watcheth with tender care
The tiniest seeds, life giving

In answer to earnest prayer.

"And at last when the shades of evening
Shall gather around thy way,
What unspeakable joy and rapture,
At the close of thy life's short day,
When thou comest, thy toil all ended,
Bringing homeward thy sheaves of gold,
To find that for all thy sowing

Thou hast gained an hundred fold."

children to Sunday school and let them become familiar with, and learn to love the good old songs.

"O, mamma, God don't pity me one bit!" The cheery mother stopped her homework to go to the little son who had been ailing and was now in a great deal of pain.

The boys and girls were at play in the school yard near by and he had been listening to their merry noise while trying with a great deal of patience to bear his suffering, but it seemed as if he had given up, by the pleading cry he made.

A had a sunshiny disposition and made things bright and pleasant around the home which a father's absence had left somewhat lonely. Appreciating all this and loving him tenderly, his mother tried to help him bear the pain which administration had failed to relieve.

"Mamma, God must be vexed with me. He don't pity me any more," rang out the

childish voice again. "Sing something to me!" And the mother began to sing. She sang of the cross, of valiant soldiers, and of kings. And as she sang she watched, and felt her heart swell with thankfulness as she saw courage come back into the boy's face. And still the song went on

"Sure I must fight if I would reign,

Increase my courage, Lord,
I'll bear the toil, endure the pain
Supported by thy word."

The same old words that have inspired fainting soldiers of the cross and given them fresh courage these many years, fixed the attention of our little soldier, and when the song was done he cried, "O, mamma now I think I know what it means. It means that I must try to bear my pain, and I will try. I can bear it now, mamma.

The man who said to him once, "Is a boy like you good for anything?" might well stand abashed in the presence of this soldier hero, his incarnation of faith and trust.

Dear Workers:-If you had a child in your Sabbath school class who would never answer any questions and oftener than not seemed to make a point of disturbing the whole class, what would you do with him?

EVE.

WE hope the "Workers" will feel interested in answering the questions propounded by a fellow worker. Let us remember that all do not have the advantage of a monthly teachers' meeting where such things can be talked over and the experience of each one given so that others may be helped.

Let us help others in the same way in which we have been helped of the Lord. Would it be following the example of the Divine One if we carelessly withheld the knowledge gained from our own experience, which might benefit other teachers and through them the vast multitude of those who go up to the house of the Lord on the Sabbath, to learn of his word? James says, "To him that knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin."

THE HIGHEST IDEAL.

A CHRISTIAN woman once said, "My highest ideal in life is to help somebody up." Do you think there could be a more exalted mission? What is yours, dear primary teacher? Is it to have the largest primary class in your village or city? Is it to teach beautifully illustrated lessons, so that you shall establish for

yourself a reputation as a brilliant teacher? Is it to win the love of the children that you may fill your heart with this sweet joy, and surround your life with its sunshine? Is it to be an efficient aid to the pastor and superintendent whom you esteem and honor? Then you have not found the true aim, the highest ideal of the primary teacher.

Your aim, your one ever present purpose, should be to win the children to Righteousness. There is meaning in that capital. The word means, not only a true life, but the One Righteous Life. Lead the children to know and love that Life. KEEP THEM FROM FALL ING.

If this is your ideal it is even higher than that of the devout woman who was living to "help somebody up."

I went to a Temperance convention yesterday, and as I listened to the reports from the various Unions, I said many times in my heart, "God bless the W. C. T. U." It is a great and noble army. It is lifting up many fallen ones. It is "helping to heal the heartache of humanity."

Primary teachers, ours is a far nobler, more important work, we are trying to keep out the evil, to prevent the sin and heartache.

Satan is a powerful foe. It is easier to keep him out in the first place, than to drive him out after he has made for himself a kingdom and built a stronghold.

In the temperance meeting, and even in the adult Bible class, I am often impressed with the waste of Christian effort which we are compelled to make because we didn't begin at the right end. If parents, teachers, and ministers could realize the waste of energy in the Christian church which might be spared if they would center their efforts for a few years upon the primary department of the Sabbath school. It is easier to win the child to righteousness, than to win him away from evil, to take him, before he has formed the habit of thinking wrong thoughts, of disregarding God's word, his day, his house, of neglecting prayer, of doubting God. It is easier to help him at the very beginning of life to form right babits of thought and action. In other words, it is easier to FORM the child's character aright than to REFORM the man.

Instead of doing this we unite in prayer and effort for weeks at a time over a few hardened sinners, and when one of them is converted the fervor of our hallelujah chorus is measured by the degree and years in which he has waded in iniquity.

Now, I fear my devotion to the children has

carried me too far. God forbid that we discourage any form of Christian endeavor. In asylum, or hospital, or saloon, or jail, or workhouse, human hand or voice were never lifted once too often to save a soul, sunk to any depth of sin or shame But are we letting the pure souls of the little ones fall into sin simply for the pleasure and excitement of helping them out again?

Can we not realize that the child will be worth more to the kingdom of God if converted in childhood? There is a vast difference between the life of a child led to Jesus, and the life of one who is old in sin won to serve him. Both will bear fruit, but the child's will not only exceed in quantity, it will be sweeter, and better, and excel in every way in quality

I

I once visited an orange grove filled with thrifty-looking, symmetrically-shaped trees. They were beautiful to look upon. "What a treat is in store for me," I thought as I stepped into the grove. One taste of the fruit! threw it to the ground and said, "What in the world is the matter with these oranges?" A friend who was with me, 'the owner of many valuable groves, answered, "The trees were neglected so many years they will never bear a good variety." "Then why don't you graft them with new stock?" I asked. "We are doing that," was his answer, "but it is easier to make new groves."

Ah, it is easier to begin with the children.`

It is the true, sensible solution of all vexed problems, to "train up the child," etc.

A life once turned aside does not easily return to its perpendicular. "My son," said one of our great preachers, "can you tell me what is the matter with that tree?" He pointed as he spoke to a tree whose trunk formed two right angles. "I guess," answered the boy, "somebody stepped on it when it was a little fellow." The father never preached so startling and eloquent a sermon as we can find in that boy's simple answer and, strangely enough, it chanced to be the true answer. "Take heed lest ye offend one of these little ones."

We need Christian manhood and womanhood, teachers, preachers, missionaries, citizens who have been "kept unspotted from the world." We have them all in our primary classes. Dear teachers, let our prayer be that of the Master's, "I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil." There is no more exalted ideal than to win the child in its purity and innocence to a life of Christian service.

Pray on, work, study, struggle, strive, count no effort too great, and none too small for the attainment of this "highest ideal" and "it may be, that the children whom you led with trembling hand, will be found among your jewels when you reach that better land." -Missouri S. S. Evangel.

THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD.
Lead kindly light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on!

The night is dark and I am far from home,
Lead thou me on!

Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene, one step's enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou
Should'st lead me on:

I loved to choose and see my path, but now
Lead thou me on!

I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears
Pride ruled my will: remember not past years.
So long thy power hath blessed me, sure it still
Will lead me on:

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone;

And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.
NEWMAN.

GOD'S TRUE GIFTS.

UPON the parched and thirsty earth which the weary farmer was tilling, fell the direct and burning rays of the August sun, with not a cloud to intercept his light and heat from man and beast. It was well on in the morning hours and all of these they had toiled together.

Now they seek the shade fona few moments of rest and both are refreshed by a draught of cooling water from the hillside spring. Free gift of God, gushing out from the hoary hills; was ever anything half so sweet, half so satisfying as this cool and sparkling liquid to the weary man and his faithful servants! Not all the sparkling wines of sunny Italy, rich with age, ever gave a tithe of the pleasure conferred by this. Upon a bed of pain all day a weary invalid had tossed. How close

and heated the atmosphere! Not a breath of air moves the leaves of the tallest trees and the sun pours down its heating rays. But now a cloud gathers in the west, and soon a cool breeze springing up finds its way through the cottage window and fans the weary one whose hands are all too weak for such labor. The rich may command service to lighten the conditions even of sickness, but to the poor only come the free gifts of God. Yet what cooling breeze moved by artificial means was ever so balmy and invigorating as this free breeze of heaven!

All of nature's charms and beauties are free to him who has an eye to lift and a heart to respond to their charms. The shades of heaven's blue dome above us, never but poorly imitated by human skill, the varied tints of tender greens, the unnumbered hues of gorgeous flowers, the life giving light of the sun, the tender rays of the harvest moon, the songs of birds as well as the many voices in which animate nature speaks to us, whispering of the loving God who created, all are free and precious gifts of God.

But, most wonderful provision of a loving Father, God has designed to make man to his fellow man the medium of many of his richest blessings, blessings free as the air of heaven, and life-giving as the sunshine and rain. Among these priceless gifts, twin sister of love and pity, is sympathy. Not the sympathy which bends the burden-bearer nearer to the earth and helps him only to feel his load more keenly, but the sympathy which, while tender, comes in cheerful guise and points to the shining hilltops of hope and the green valleys through which flow the cooling streams of God's unchanging love.

Not willingly nor in vain docs the loving Father afflict, but with intent to refine and purify are the fires lighted. Patience becomes the duty of him who is called to endure, and sympathy, tender, hopeful, cheerful sympathy, the duty of him who standing by unscathed sees the flames wrapping with their cloven tongues the brother he is helpless to protect. God will never forsake in the time of trial. Would that each one who has the privilege, who is the agent of God in bestowing his heavenly gift of sympathy, might also prove true to the trust reposed in him.

LET us again remind our readers that the autobiography of Bro. Luff is now on sale at the Herald Office. Price $1.25, mailed to any address. Let the friends of Bro. Luff not for

get that this is their opportunity to manifest their regard for him in a substantial manner and to enrich their homes by placing this volume in their library.

By an unpremeditated omission the essays of Srs. Izatt and Young failed to appear in our July issue, hence we give place to the three which were read at the annual meeting in April last.

POPULISM AS A LEAVEN. WHETHER the Populist party is to prove itself capable of amalgamating a great national political organization, or whether its work is to be done through a leavening of the old parties to a more or less extent with its doctrines and ideas, remains to be seen. At present its influence evidently is that of a leavening ingredient. The Democratic party, now in full nominal power at Washington, was brought into authority upon a very distinct platform, that declared its monetary views and principles. The chief part of its revenue programme was a tariff so prepared as to be highly productive of revenue, and not arranged for purposes of protection. Now it is perfectly obvious that the value and volume of our national imports are such as to make the production of a sufficient revenue by customs duties a fea ible undertaking, especially when the amount necessary from the custom houses is diminished by the proceeds of an internal revenue tax upon whiskey and tobacco. The Democrats were therefore under no necessity to change the main outlines of their revenue programme. Yet they have proceeded to construct a tariff with a view mainly to the protection of American industries, rather than to the production of public revenue: and they have incorporated in their measure an income-tax system that is wholly foreign to any hint or suggestion in the Chicago platform, or any expression or understanding upon which they were placed in power. The Populist platform adopted at Omaha on the 4th of July, 1892, had expressly demanded an income tax. The adoption therefore by the Democrats of this Populist plank, dealing with a matter of such cardinal importance, may justly be called a mighty manifestation of the working of the Populist leaven. So great a third party triumph as the acceptance by the dominant party of this income-tax demand, is almost without a parallel. It lifts the Populist party to a position of dignity and prestige that had not been previously accorded to it.-From "The Progress of the World," July Review of Reviews.