THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST-

AND WHY

BY MARY KATHRYN FAGAN (AGE 13)
(Silver Badge)

THE Bible, the book of books, has done me more good than any other book. From beginning to end, it is full of heroic and wonderful deeds. It is the book. Sir Walter Scott on his death-bed said: "Bring me the book." "What book?" asked a servant. "There is only one book, the Bible," answered the great writer. What boy wants any more exciting stories than of

David killing the Giant? or of Joseph being sold into slavery by his unworthy brothers? or a more marvelous one than that of the little boy's loaves and fishes feeding the five thousand? Or what girl, any more fascinating stories than of Mary and Martha? or Naaman's slave-girl? What would this country, our country, be without this wonderful book? We would have-what? No churches, no colleges, no hospitals, no art, no homes for the poor, friendless, or orphans. And last, but not least, no books, for are not most of our good books inspired by the Bible? More copies have been sold and translated into other languages than any other book, which shows its popularity. So, dear reader, do you not agree with me that this book, the Bible, has done more for humanity than any other book, for has it not taught us truth, and honesty, and all good, and helped to make better the great world we live in?

66 AN EXCITING GAME." BY LILY A. LEWIS, AGE 15. (SILVER BADGE.)

ferent way, or awakens a new interest. There is one book which contains all these, and in reading it we are impressed anew as each variety unfolds itself.

under the stars with the lonely little boy, or smiled and cried over Dora, who, with all her weakness, was yet so human. I felt the awful majesty and power of the sea when the frail boat bearing Steerforth was wrecked. I admired Ham's bravery, hated Uriah's deceit, or journeyed with Mr. Peggotty in his weary search. I can see Agnes as plainly as ever David did; shining like a star across his path.

But whether I am sad or lonely, glad or gay, tired or light-hearted, I always find in this book just what I need most. It seems always to respond to my every mood, and I laugh or cry with the dear people whom Dickens has given to us all for friends. These are the reasons why I say that "David Copperfield" has helped me more than any other book.

SONNET TO SPRING

BY ISABEL M. ADAMS (AGE 16)

(Honor Member)

SEASON of birth and reawakening,

Symbol of all things unfulfilled and young,
Laughing, thou passest the green fields among,

Glad of thy power and loveliness, O Spring!

To the dull earth thy careless tread doth bring

New life, which courses through her age-worn veins.
Thine is the music of the fitful rains

And thine the happy song the streamlets sing.
Ripe summer's languid glory is not thine,

Nor thine the soul of autumn, wise and mild.
Victor of hoary winter! Oh, fair child,
Passionate, wilful! thou art passing sweet-
For in thy noble promise we divine
The poignant beauty of the incomplete.

THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST

AND WHY

BY H. HARDY HETH (AGE 15)

(Gold Badge)

And

EVERY good book is a friend that never fails. we owe tribute to many authors for giving us such companions. Who could forget Louisa M. Alcott, Kate Douglas Wiggin, Frances Hodgson Burnett, Ralph Henry Barbour, Henry Van Dyke, or Lew Wallace and his great "Ben Hur"?

But as I look over my library, one small volume outshines all the others. It is written in words of one syllable, so that any child may read; and as it has been in my possession ever since I was such, this book is a friend tried and true. Upon the cover is printed in gold, "The Pilgrim's Progress."

There are many reasons for my choice, naturally the first being that the story is just as beneficial now as when I first read it years ago. Indeed, I believe the oftener it is re-read, the more helpful it becomes. Then, I greatly admire Bunyan, the author.

He was the son of an English tinker, and for a time adopted his father's trade, but early in life began preaching. As he led a body of people whose ideas were opposite to those of the king, he was arrested in 1660 and retained in prison until 1672. During those long years spent in Bedford jail, "Pilgrim's Progress" was written. His persistence in time of trouble and disgrace proves him an example well worth noticing.

The book itself has innumerable good qualities. It is uplifting and appeals to the imagination, yet never does it make light of worldly cares. Nothing is overdrawn; everything is real and practical. The hero VOL. XXXIX.-84.

think I may call it; and when one loves a friend, does not that friend always help you? And strengthen and cheer you often?

"Little Women" is composed of several books, all within one story.

In it you have home life and sisterly love, not as a dry topic or marvelous endowment, but as an example. It sets forth many examples, in fact, which might be changed slightly so as to fit into any circumstance of one's own life.

Amy's gay experiences abroad, with Laurie to make them comical, are enough for one story.

Meg's trials and home troubles are so funny, yet deplorable, that they alone might fill a little book.

Last, but not least, there are poor dear Jo's trials, ambitions, and temptations! For some of Jo's faults are so similar to my own, it helps me so much to see how she overcomes hers.

If any one does not find "Little Women" very helpful and interesting, I give below my directions for putting it to a practical test:

If you have the "blues," go with Amy to the Parisian ball. It will cheer you wonderfully.

If you think the world has used you badly, sympathize with Jo, and you will feel better.

If you want to laugh, read about the pranks of Laurie and Jo, or of Jo's trials when Laurie tried to propose to her.

One can find almost anything needed in "Little Women" if she only tries.

SPRING

BY ELIZABETH CONNOLLY (AGE 9)
(Silver Badge)

LITTLE snowdrop, lift your head
From the brown earth's wintry bed;
Blue-eyed violet, come up, too,
Blue-eyed violet, shy and true.
Spring has come to call you all.
Hark! I hear the bluebird's call!

In snowy ermine we are dressed,
And in the day we take our rest.

But when the moon hath risen high,
Away we go on feet that fly!

Oh, short and plump and quick are we!
Our faces round and lit with glee.

Upon the forest's silver floor
We dance as in the fairy lore.

We creep into the farmers' huts,

And steal their stores of winter nuts.

We dull their saws, enchant their wells, And o'er their meadows cast our spells.

The mortals ever we molest;

But leave the furry folk at rest.

We bare the trees, and freeze the streams, And send them off to winter dreams.

We silence all the world with snow,
And pipe to make the north winds blow.

Oh, merry winter gnomes are we!
We dance and prance in impish glee.

THE BOOK THAT HAS HELPED ME MOST-
AND WHY

BY MURIEL AVERY (AGE 17)
(Honor Member)

A ROW of books lines the shelf before me. Among the familiar titles, one seems to stand forth most prominently. Not because of its size, certainly, yet it is the book that has helped me most.

It is "The Desert of Waiting," the story of Saphur. While he is crossing the desert toward the Golden Gate of the City of his Desire, which opens but once a year to common merchants, his camel falls lame, and he is forced to stop and see the caravan pass on without him. Losing hope of ever reaching the city, he wishes but to die. Soon, however, a bee, buzzing persistently around him, arouses his interest. Following it, he reaches the palace of Omar, the alchemist of the desert. Finding this wonderful man, he expects him to turn his wares to gold with his magic. But, instead, Omar sends him to the rose garden, where each night, until dawn, he must pick the roseleaves. The task is pleasant at first, but soon the thorns prick, and he doubts if all this labor will profit him anything. At length Omar calls him to him. With the rose-leaves he has picked may be made a wonderful attar, so costly that only princes may buy, and for the bearer of which the Golden Gate will open wide. So, through patience, Saphur gains the City of his Desire.

Last year, moving to a strange town, thrown among strangers, and, at the same time, taken from school because of ill health, I thought often of this story, and of that one sentence, "From the daily tasks, that prick