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The Family A BUSY BOY. 1 know a merry lad whose sisters are too small 'They can not walk a single step, but lie right down and crawl. And so this little laddie is as busy as can be. Because he is so big and strong he has to walk for three! He picks the babies' rattles up and puts away their toys; He keeps them happy and amused, without too big a noise; Because the twins are very small and he is big, so he Has learned that it is a brother's part to plan the fun for three! This little laddie's face is always very bright and gay; We think his cheeks grow dinipler and plumper every day; For laughter i3 a splendid thing to keep folks bright, you see. And every time he hears a joke he has a laugh for three! ?Hannah G. Fernald, in Caradian Presbyterian. OUR LORD'S CANDLES. One Friday. Anita, a little Spanish girl, was wandering over the mountains. She knew every canyon and trail. Her heart was made glad by the flower blossoms that met her bright eyes. The soapweed. with its blue blossoms, that was better than any soap for hard water; the mescal, with its blooms of red and yellow and nurnle. the heart of whieh was so good roasted; the bear grass, the Mariposa lily, that is not a lily at all; the "yerba buena," or good herb, and many others. High up the sides of the rugged mountains blazed the yuccas, "Our Lord's candles," the Spanish people called them; and in the hot sunshine their waxen blossoms did seem to blaze like a white light. All at once, as Anita looked at them, a thought came to her. On the following Sabbath, they were to be taken into the little church where they' had learned about the Christ who could be a friend to them. How beautiful it would be to gather some of these splendid blooms for the church, for, in the sunny land of California, no Sabbath passed that there were no flowers to lend it their beauty. Running down the trail like a kitten, Anita darted away through the brushes to find her father, and ask him about it, for it trtnlr a clrnmr o?.rr? 1 1?lm ? ??. .. ?v??e ?iiu auu a guuu nunc to cut off those tough and pithy stems. "You know," she said to them in their soft, smooth language, "we have always called them 'Our Lord's Candles,' and they will light up the church of God." It was a beautiful thought to him, and already he saw that the new church was different in many ways from the old one. Then, had not Anita learned many things of the English-speaking folks? She should have her way, the mother said. The next day being Saturday, they could come again and cut the yuccas, so that they would be fresh, and Anita spent the rest of the afternoon clambering over y E PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SOU the mountain sides and seeking out the perfect ones. The yucca is one of the most wonderful plants of California. It stores up so much plant fotd that it will sometimes grow twelve feet in height in a few days, and there are olten two thousand of the white blossoms, and sometimes as many as six thousand on a single stalk. Seen on the mountains or in the desert, the yucca looks front a distance like a brilliant white flame, and the Spanish people have well named it "Our lx>rd"s Candles." It was a tired group that cante down the old Wilson trail at sunset the next day. Four of the largest stalks, each one more than twice as tall as himself, the father carried on his shoulder. Anita and hci mother carried three more nearly as large, the mother bearing the heavier stalks, the girl the lighter one. With the help of the pastor, they were placed in water in front of the pulpit, and left in the cool church for the night, while the tired but happy little Spanish family went back to their tent for supper and rest. Anita was only a little Spanish girl, rr.l though she understood the word3 of the pastor, there was much of the sermon that was not very plain to her. One part of it, however, she did understand. The pastor spoke of the beautiful flowers that filled the whole room with the sweet, heavy fragrance. "Our Lord's Candles," he said; "that is what we ought all to be. Even the little children can be like little candles burning in the night." Then Anita knew, for she had learned tho hvmn in Qohho< ?j uui i^ui/uuvii-o\.uva/1 uu1 jug iiiuau last few Sundays, and could sing it in u sweet, smooth voice. She liked especially the second verse: "Jesus bids us shine first of all for him, Well he sees and knows, it if our light is dim: He looks down from Heaven, sees us shine. You in your small corner, and I in mine.'' Yes. she could understand this. Then the old grandmother had always called her "Little Sunshine" in the daytime, and when the sun went down and the darkness came, she called her "My Little Candle," because the child always showed her where she had laid her work or needle, and helped her to bed.' So Anita went away from the church with a very strong feeling that she must be a candle to shine for Jesus, whom she had just learned to love as her Savior. Monday found them all busy with the peach harvest, the father picking and hauling, and the mother and girl cutting ar.d stoning for drying; for the fruit musi De naived, the stone taken out, and the slices spread, face up, on trays to dry in the snn. So two or three days cf work passed, and she felt that no one had seen her shine. But the manager had noticed that she d'd her work carefully, and was not idle when she thought no one was watching, as some of the girls were. The other girls saw too, and by and by they began to do their work better because of her faithfulness. Thursday noon, they were washing the sticky Juice from their hands at the hydrant in the yard, in order to eat their lunch, when ore of the girls sa'd to her. TH. May 5, 1303. "Anita, why do you work when no one is watching you?" "1 am trying to be God's little candle in my small corner," she said. After that, they all called her "The Little Candle." People who came to the driery, as well as the men who hauled the peaches from the orchard, heard the cdd name and stopped to ask what it meant, and then Anita was always asked to sing the little Sabbath school song, for her voice, like the voices of most Spanish children, was very full and smooth, and she sang like a bird. Each time they went away wondering if they, too. were helping to make the world brighter for Christ. So, before the summer was over, Anita's light was shining into many corners. even as the wonderful yucca shone on the rugged slopes of the Sierra Madre Mountains.?Boys and Girls. GOD'S LITTLE MESSENGER. Dorothy sat curled un in the big armchair, thinking. She was thinking of father, who had looked s> sad and lonely and troubled lately. Since mother died, there was no cnc to make the wrinkles go and the smiles come as she had. She was only a girl, and could not comfort him. She could pnt iolb i ~ 1 >ain iu nun as moiner nau. Presently she rose, went into the garden and gathered the lovliest rosebud she could find?a large tea rose that her mother had loved?and, putting the long, s'ender stem into a delicate \ase, placed it on father's dressing table. Mother used to say that flowers were little comforting, loving messages from God. Father was late coming to supper, and very thoughtful. Had he noticed the tiower? After the meal was over, he followed her to the sitting room, instead of going to his study as usual, and. putting his arm around her, said, lovingly, "That was a very sweet message you had for me tonight, dear." "It wasn't my message, father, it was God's." "You were -God's messenger, then. Would you like to know what the message was?" "Yes, father." He took a seat on the sofa, and drew her down beside him. "It told me I was a very foolish creature to be brooding over my troubles and loneliness when there was a vnnmr '???> ' 1 " "' ? 11 con ii^art run or love and sympathy right at my side." "Hut, father, I am only a girl. I can't really do anything." "My dear, you have done a great deal already. Just as the petals of the rose will fall, now it has delivered its message, so the troubles and loneliness began to disappear, when I realized what the message meant. It will be a great comfort to me to feel that there will be a dear face to welcome me; that will say, without words, 'Father, I love you, and would do more if I could.' And there will be more, never fear. Think how lone T h?vo " " ' ? ~ Usui uiiuu iu 11 an, now much I have missed already." - "O. father." said Dorothy, with tears in her eyes, "I am so happy!" "And so. am I, dear?happier than 1 have been for a long, long time. I wish there were more such thoughtful little messengers."?Southern Churchman.