97HER PRAYER
Every time the King automobile went past the little home of Julia Lowe when Julia was there, she ran eagerly to look into the face of the lady who sat inside. She had such beautiful clothes; she sat so tall and stately; she had such a wonderful smile. She was Julia Lowe’s ideal woman.
Julia had gone with two other girls to ask Mrs. King to help them with their Liberty Loans and she had not only taken bonds but had given them flowers from the great garden back of the house, and had invited them to come again. Every time she saw her go by, Julia wished she, too, might have such a sweet face and such a heap of good things as Mrs. King had.
Now Julia worked in an office downtown, so, of course she thought she had to act and to do as the other girls in the office did. When they wore their hair very straight, hers was straight also; but when they wore puffs, she had to get up much earlier in the morning to force her pretty hair into great puffs over her ears. Mother wanted her to wear serge dresses in the office, but the other girls wore georgette waists, so of course she had to wear them also. Some of the girls in the neighborhood liked to go to the library to read, so they had formed a club for that purpose and had asked Julia to join. But the girls in the office liked to go to dances and picture shows, and so she must go to them also—else how could she talk things over with them at the noon hour, and tell them of the boys she had been with, and the places where she had gone? Oh, yes, she just must98do as the girls in the office did. But in spite of it all, she wasn’t very happy and sometimes she wished she could run away from it all and just go back to school again as her mother had wanted her to do.
When she looked at Mrs. King, somehow her beautiful face seemed to make her want more than ever to do better. What was there about her that made Julia love her at a distance and yet be afraid of her when she came near her? Julia didn’t know. But she did know that deep in her heart she wanted to be like her and didn’t know how. If only she had money and beautiful things, perhaps it would be different.
One day when the leaves were very beautiful in their fall colors, a dainty little note was left by the postman for Julia and it read,
“Dear Julia:“I hardly know you but I am going to ask a great favor of you. Mr. King has been called out of town and he is not willing to have me stay in the house all alone, for it is very big and lonely since Mary died. I wish very much that you would let me call for you at the office this afternoon. Then we will go out in the country to see the beautiful colors and have our supper at the Country Club. Then, when we come home in the moonlight, I should like to have you spend the night with me here. I shall hope that you can come.“Sincerely,“Margaret L. King.”
“Dear Julia:
“I hardly know you but I am going to ask a great favor of you. Mr. King has been called out of town and he is not willing to have me stay in the house all alone, for it is very big and lonely since Mary died. I wish very much that you would let me call for you at the office this afternoon. Then we will go out in the country to see the beautiful colors and have our supper at the Country Club. Then, when we come home in the moonlight, I should like to have you spend the night with me here. I shall hope that you can come.
“Sincerely,“Margaret L. King.”
“Sincerely,
“Margaret L. King.”
Julia was so happy as she read it that she could hardly contain herself—to go for a ride in the wonderful car; to eat at the Country Club; to sleep at the home of Mrs. King—why, she had never even dared to dream of such a thing. It was too good to be true.99
Of course she must look her very best, so she asked for an extra half hour at noon. She would wear her new thin waist with the very low neck, for the girls had told her that she looked “too sweet for anything” in that. Her silk skirt was shabby but it would never do to wear her serge, even if it were new, when she rode with Mrs. King. As she put on the high-heeled slippers, she noticed that they were much run over, but they would have to do. It took her a long, long time to fix her hair just as she wanted to have it, for one dip must just touch the next at the right angle.
Finally all was ready but the extra touches to her face. There was the rouge for which she had spent so much money. The boss at the office had told them that they would lose their job if they came with it on their faces again but she must risk it this once. A little penciling of the eyebrows, a little powder here and there, and Julia felt very sure as she looked at herself in the glass that she would “do.”
Her shoes needed brushing but she hadn’t time for them, for, even now, she had only time to run as fast as she could to get the car which would bring her to the office in time. There was a button off her coat which she had forgotten, but the coat needn’t be worn; her fingernails needed attention, but she never cared much about them. As long as her face, and her hair, and her clothes were all in style, she was all right to go anywhere.
Promptly at five, the King car came to the door of the factory and Julia stepped in, followed by the envious glances of her friends in the office. What a ride it was through the open country! Miles and miles of beauty such as Julia had never seen. Mrs. King found so many interesting things for her to see that all the restraint wore away, and she found herself talking to her friend and telling her all about her own life and pleasures.100
Then Mrs. King told her a little about what she did with her time and, to her surprise, Julia found that Mrs. King was a very busy woman. Over and over as they talked, Julia noticed how soft and sweet Mrs. King’s voice was and how carefully she used the best of English. And again, Julia found herself wishing she were like Mrs. King. Somehow she did not care to use the slang words that seemed so necessary when she talked with the girls.
When their coats were removed at the Country Club, Julia found that Mrs. King was very simply dressed in a dark blue serge dress with little white collar and cuffs. Many other girls and women in the group were dressed in the same way. Then Julia became suddenly conscious of the run-over heels and the torn skirt, for she and Mrs. King were in the center of the room, and she was being introduced as “My friend Julia.” How she did wish she had taken mother’s advice and worn the new, pretty serge!
In one of the corners of the dining-room there was a little table for two that overlooked the lake, and towards this Mrs. King made her way. Here they could see every one and yet be quite alone. Then Mrs. King told her a little of the people in the room. Here was the wife of a noted judge; that was the High School teacher of whom she must have heard the girls speak if they had ever been to that school.
“And who are these two girls in front of us?” asked Julia. “Isn’t the dark-haired one a beauty? Evidently the young man with her thinks so, too.”
Then Mrs. King’s face grew quiet as she said,
“Those are two girls of whom we are very fond here, but I am so sorry to see Jessie doing as she is. No, Julia, she is not pretty. She has painted her face and all her natural beauty is hidden. Usually she is very101attractive. Her friend’s face is sweet and clean. Evidently she does not care to attract attention to herself by the use of paint and rouge. She believes in being true to her best self even though she is not in the height of style. When you have lived longer, you will know, dear, the truth of what I say.”
Poor Julia. Her face burned like fire. Mrs. King had said “My friend Julia,” yet she, too, had paint on her face—not red like the girl in front, to be sure, but it was there. Why had no one told her before? All the girls did it and she thought it was the thing to do. Then there came to her an impulse to ask Mrs. King about it, so she said frankly,
“Mrs. King, I have some paint on my face, too, but I put it on because I was coming out with you. I thought you would like to have me look my very best.”
“Indeed I do, girlie,” said Mrs. King, putting her hand on the hand of the girl opposite her. “Indeed I do want you to look your best. I have liked you ever since I came to Hillcrest to live and it has hurt me to see you trying to do as all the other girls did. I have wished so often that you would be a leader in doing the finer things and help others to see what real beauty is and how to get it. Real beauty is not put on from the outside; it grows from within.”
Julia looked at Mrs. King’s sweet, loving face very hard for a minute and then said,
“I have liked you, too, and I have watched you go back and forth, wishing I could be like you. Will you show me how? Mother has tried but I thought she did not know. No one else has ever tried to tell me about your kind of beauty.”
So they made the compact. Then they sat and watched for well-dressed women; for women in whose faces there was strength of character and purpose; for102girls whose very manner showed they were ladies; for men who honored the girls in whose company they were. Such fun as it was! Julia never knew the time to go so fast. It was so plain now that clothes did not necessarily make the lady. She was almost sorry when it came time to go home.
In the house, a great fire was burning and it looked so cozy.
“I have looked into your windows many times as I have passed and wished I could sit before the fire and dream and dream,” said the girl. “May I sit down here for a while?”
“We will both sit here,” said Mrs. King, “then I will tell you about my little girl who used to sit here with me.”
How Julia’s heart ached for her friend as she told her of her love for her own dear girl, of the plans they had made, of the sudden sickness and death, and of the loneliness of the big house since she had gone! She had thought Mrs. King had everything to make her happy, yet the thing she wanted most she could not have.
“Her hair was much like yours and sometimes, as you have passed, I have wished I could comb yours as I did hers. Would you mind if I did?” said the mother.
“I should love to have you,” said Julia.
“Well, then, when the fire has died out, we will go up to her room. In the drawer there I have a little white dress that perhaps you would like. I will comb your hair just as I did hers and see if the dress will fit you,” said Mrs. King. “If you look sweet and girlish in it, I will give it to you.”
While Mrs. King slipped away to get the things needed for the hairdressing, Julia went to the great white bathroom, and when she came out her face was sweet and clean and every trace of the paint and powder was gone. Her pretty brown hair was down her back in ringlets103and her face wore a look which the girls at the office had never seen there.
Then Mrs. King brushed, and brushed, and brushed till the hair was soft and shiny. Low in her neck she coiled it, making it look girlish and neat, fastening it with a tiny velvet circlet. Then Julia held her breath as Mrs. King took from a drawer a little white dress. It was a simple silk mull but it was prettily made. Below it was a dainty petticoat and at the bottom of the drawer were white oxfords and fine, lisle stockings.
“These were ready for her graduation, dear, but she never wore them once after they were made,” said the mother softly, as she fingered the dress lovingly.
There were tears in the eyes of the mother and tears in the eyes of the girl as the dress was put on. And when Julia looked into the mirror she seemed to see a strange girl. How little she looked like the girls in the office! But she liked her hair—and she liked the looks of her face—and she loved the simple, white dress.
Last of all Mrs. King slipped about her neck a little string of pearls. “These are my gift to you, Julia,” she said. “Wear them when you think you are dressed as you and I have planned to-night and be as beautiful as the pearls. Remember, dear, we may put beautiful things on the outside but they can never make us beautiful. It comes from the inside because of what we are. It stands the test of study. It is always real. A girl who does not live up to the best she knows can well be called a coward. Good night, dear, I am glad there is a girlie who loves me.”
Then with a good-night kiss she was gone—gone, as Julia knew, to be more than ever lonely for her own little girl.
For a long time Julia stood looking at the dress, and the slippers, and the stockings. Mrs. King had plenty104of money, yet these were to have been her daughter’s graduation clothes. And she had not finished school because she could not have clothes like the rest of the girls who were to have expensive ones. Mrs. King was honored all through the city, yet she was dressed in a simple serge dress at the Country Club. It was all very strange! Some one had things very much mixed up concerning what a girl should wear. How long it seemed since she had left the office in the afternoon!
The room was so dainty that it took Julia a long time to get ready for bed. How she would love to have a room like this! Maybe it would be easy to be good. She looked at the dress again, as she laid it carefully over the chair. It was all hers. The girls would laugh at her but she loved it. Then she lifted the little string of pearls—not cheap, big ones such as she had worn on Sunday, but dainty, beautiful ones, and they whispered again to her,
“Be as beautiful as the beads, girlie. True beauty is never put on from the outside. It comes from inside because of what you are.”
Long she stood in the moonlight near the window looking at them. Then she dropped on her knees and said,
“Dear God, she has shown me the best. Help me not to be a coward as I go out and try to do it. Help me to be as beautiful as the pearls. I thank Thee for to-day. I want to show others what real beauty is and how to get it. Please help me.”
And the Father heard the prayer of the girl kneeling there in her white night-gown, for it came from a sincere heart—and He answered.105
THE BEST DAY
ByMrs. Annie G. Freeman
ByMrs. Annie G. Freeman
One sunny summer afternoon Margaret sat reading beneath the shade of an old apple tree. Before her stretched a charming view but on her face was a troubled, dissatisfied look.
“Oh, dear,” she sighed. “Even this book is stupid. It is the dullest, most stupid day that I ever saw.”
“Stupid day?” said a tiny voice. There on the rock before her sat the daintiest little golden-haired fairy that she had ever seen. The fairy’s feet were resting on a woodbine vine that was creeping up the wall, and her wings were as delicate as those of a butterfly.
“What makes such a bright day as this stupid?”
“Oh, I suppose it is myself,” said the discontented girl.
“I believe it is,” said the fairy. “Now I will take you with me to the Palace of Time and you shall choose a day that suits you better. Come.”
Over green meadows, through pleasant pastures, beside babbling brooks that sparkled and played in the sunshine, the fairy led. At last they came to the Palace of Time. The fairy led the way up the long hall to the throne on which Time sat, and told her errand.
“Take the little friend to the Hall of Days,” he said, “and give her the day that pleases her best.”
How delighted the maiden was! Wouldn’t you be if a fairy should take you out of a stupid day and promise you the day that pleased you most? She just skipped along, her feet scarcely touching the ground in her joy.106In a great room filled with all kinds of bright lights, they stopped.
“This is the Hall of Days,” said the fairy. “Take whichever day pleases you most.”
Like great balls of glass the days were of many colors and of many kinds. Some were dark and some were light; some were dim and others clear.
One was like a crystal and the odor of roses seemed to come from it. Its colors were soft and Margaret gazed deep into it. Vague dreams seemed to come from it and memories happy and delightful. But she couldn’t live on dreams and memories. That wouldn’t do. She might like that sort of a day once in a while but her young life demanded something to do on the best day. This was a day that had gone.
One other day pleased her much. It shone like the sun on the new fallen snow. It was so white and so pure that she lifted it carefully lest she should soil and spot it.
“It is too bright. It hurts my eyes,” said she, putting it back.
“Yes, little girl,” said the fairy. “That is to-morrow. It must be shaded by many things before one can bear it.”
Then, just between the two, Margaret spied the most beautiful ball of all. It wavered and shimmered; now it was red, now green, now yellow and now pink. Oh, there were so many colors that she could not name them all. Wave upon wave of color swept through it and all seemed shot with the golden lights.
“That is the one that I want,” she cried happily. “That is the most beautiful day of all.”
“Take it, then,” said the fairy. “It is yours.”
All the way home, the maiden clasped it tightly.
“With this day,” she said, “I can be joyful. With107this day I can make so many people happy, and it is so bright that I can see the best way in which to go. It is as light as a feather. I can hardly wait to show my friends the beautiful day that I have chosen, for I love it dearly.”
“Yes, indeed,” said the fairy, as she flew off in a different direction. “It is a wonderful day. Infinite wisdom and love helped you to choose aright. That is To-day.”
“What a beautiful day!” said the maiden as she sat in the shade of the old apple tree. “I believe I have been dreaming. But this is too beautiful a day to idle it away. I will go and do something for some one to make others see its beauty also.”
108IN THE WAY
Gladys Mercer sat looking at a snapshot which had come to her from one of her girl friends. It showed a strong, athletic woman with a blanket rolled over her back hiking along the road and with her six girls in middies and bloomers. And as Gladys looked at the picture, she smiled at the memories which it brought.
There was the long hike, the tired muscles, the view from the mountaintop, the wonderful sunset, the stillness of the night and the fear of the dark. Then there was the voice of the woman in the picture,
“Girls, you are safer here than in any house you could find. Just remember that God is over all and sleep as sound as can be.”
Then there was the sunrise, the pancake breakfast on the hill, and the hike home. Best of all there had been two long days with Mrs. Fuller, the friend of girls. What a good visit they had had with her! What a fine story she had told them at the sunset! What a helpful prayer she had made as they closed their good-night song when the sun went down!
And then from the thought of the trip, Gladys went to the thought of all that Mrs. Fuller had meant to her. She was sunny; she was happy in her work through the day, and happy to give her time to them at night; she was always ready to advise and help; she seemed to know just what to do when they did not know; somehow she could always get them to do the thing they had thought they would not do. She was to Gladys, the motherless girl, a friend, a companion, a leader and a heroine.109
What was there about her that made her able to lead? Was it her smile? Was it her ability to do things? What made a leader anyway?
Gladys leaned far back against the old tree under which she had been sitting and said to herself, “I wish—I wish——”
“And what do you wish,” said a little voice, and there close to her was a dear little lady dressed in red and in her hand she carried a lamp.
“Who are you?” said Gladys.
“I am the Fairy of Helpful Service,” said the little lady. “I heard you talking about one of my helpers, so I was interested to know what you wished when you thought of all she had done for you girls. Now tell me. What do you wish?”
“If you are a fairy, perhaps you can give me my wish. I wish to be like Mrs. Fuller. I want to help girls. I want to get the kind of letters she gets from girls who are far away. I want to see ‘my girls’ some day giving service all over the world as she does. I want to be like her. Please, fairy, give me my wish.”
“I can’t make you like her but I can put you in the way of service and then, if you choose, you can become like her and get the things you are asking for. Those things are not given—they are earned, and the cost of them is heavy. I don’t really think you mean what you say, for you haven’t even wanted to go to school to learn to help. Perhaps the best way would be to let you seeherin the way and then you can choose for yourself whether you want your gift. Come and we will watch her climb the way.”
So the Fairy of Helpful Service and the girl who wanted to be a leader went together into the House of the Past.
“There,” said the fairy, “there is Mrs. Fuller as a110little girl. We will watch her grow and you may see where she earned some of the qualities which you admire in her.”
There she was, a mischievous little girl of ten, as happy as the day was long.
“Here she is laying the foundation for health,” said the fairy, “with long hours of sleep and good food and plenty of play. One begins away back in girlhood to be a leader. Some who would have been good helpers for me cannot serve because they did not begin early enough to get ready.”
Then as the little girl played there came into the way a black, black cloud. Gladys shuddered as it came nearer and nearer to the little girl and finally enveloped her. It was death—the death of her father, but after the cloud had passed and the sunshine had come again, the fairy said,
“See, her shoulders are broader. She has learned what loneliness means.”
On she went and then she was going to High School. Others had clothes that she did not have. She must hurry to finish because there was no father in the home. So, eagerly she pushed through the High School.
Just here Gladys saw a hand reached out to help and heard a voice saying to the girl, “Of course it will be hard but you can go to college if you really want to go. It will do you good to sacrifice for it.” ’Twas the Master of the school who was helping her to keep in the way.
“Can you see her grow?” said the fairy. “She has added concentration, an appreciation of the girl who has little and who must be with girls who have much, and now she has been given a vision.”
Then Gladys watched her toil through college, earning her way, often overtired and worried as to where the111means to go on were to come from. But she pushed ahead.
“Oh,” said Gladys, “how hard she works! I could never do that. I am sorry for her.”
“You needn’t be,” said the fairy. “You need never be sorry for those that sacrifice for an ideal. Be sorry for those who have none and so who live at ease.” And they watched her struggle through temptation and toil to the graduation day.
As the college days passed, there came strength of purpose, but there came also the desire to serve. Gladys watched her lead the little group of dirty street boys in the slums.
“How can she do it?” said Gladys. “They are so dirty and so rough.”
But the fairy said, “When one wants to serve, she looks at the heart and the life—not at the clothes and the actions. The boys are helping her to keep in the way.”
And after college there were happy days. Days of love and comradeship, days of work for the fairy; days when opportunity was everywhere. And in these days of happiness there came lessons of sharing, of winning, of filling the life with sunshine. The path was so bright that it dazzled.
Suddenly, Gladys looked ahead in the path. “Look,” she said to the fairy. “Look, oh, how black it is! Oh, I am sorry.”
Then the storm descended and all was black in the way—oh, so black and to move took all of one’s strength. Against it she struggled, but it seemed as though she must surely be driven from the path. Death and loneliness and worries seemed overpowering.
But the storm passed and, when once again there was peace, a great strength had come in its place, for there was sympathy for others who suffered, there was an112appreciation of the value of friendship, and there was a knowledge that God helps.
Little by little the road widened, though often it was lonely and hard. There were many steep places but each added something. And then Gladys saw the picture change.
There was Mrs. Fuller with her girls and she was leading them by the hand. But it was by no means easy. Some held back; some chose to play by the way; some looked longingly at the things by the wayside that would harm. But her one hand reached up and her other hand helped them ahead as she tried to keep them in the way.
As the picture faded, Gladys turned to the fairy. “I thought it had been all sunshine but now I see how hard it has been to learn to understand and to help. I love her better than I did before, now that I have seen her in the way. Thank you, fairy.”
“But wait,” said the fairy. “You asked me for a gift. Do you still want it? Do you still want to follow her?”
“To follow means study, and sacrifice, and temptations conquered, and sympathy, and all sorts of hard things, doesn’t it? I never thought about it. But I love Mrs. Fuller and I still want to lead girls—I still want the letters and I still want to be like her. Please, Fairy of Good Works, put me in the way and I will go back to school and begin to get ready.”
Then the little lady smiled as she waved her wand over the head of the girl. “Your life may be much more sunny than hers, dear. Not all must have the same things to overcome. But whatever you meet in the way, you must struggle against it and come out stronger because you have struggled. Can you see away off there in the distance the hands of girls—oh, so many of them—eagerly reached out for help? They are ‘your girls.’ And here is the way. Above there is one who helps and113I am here though you may not see me. Push forward or the girls will have no helper. Good-by and good luck to you.”
But as Gladys reached out to detain her, her hat fell to the ground and she found herself sitting against the tree. In her hand was the picture of Mrs. Fuller and her girls. Long she looked at the picture. Then she said to herself,
“I never knew the way was so long or so hard to be like you but if just one girl can love me some day as I love you, then I shall be glad I have walked in the way. I am ready to try and I hope I can win.”
114AN OLD, OLD STORY
It was a dark and rainy day when about the inn-fire, close to the great caravan way that led through Canaan, in the land of Palestine, a group of camel-drivers and travelers were gathered. They looked very different from what they do to-day, for nearly four thousand years have passed since then. But they were all huddled together listening to stories and songs.
In the group there were men from Egypt; there were men from Babylon, the great city far to the East; there were men from the land of Canaan; and then there were some wandering nomads who had lately come from the East and so were called by the Canaanites “Hebrews,” which means, “People from the Other Side.” Most of these men were shepherds, but they loved to meet with the camel-drivers and learn of the customs and habits of the people of other lands. ’Twas a strange group of men sitting about the little fire.
In those days, as now, men loved to tell stories that had come down to them from their fathers and grandfathers, and often they found that a story from Egypt was but little different from one that had been told in Babylonia. So they loved to listen to the story-tellers.
But on this day it had rained and rained till the streams were full and the way was very hard to go. Thus there were very many men in the inn. ’Twas the turn of the Babylonian, so he began,
“I will tell you one of the very oldest of our stories—about a great rain-storm.115
“Years and years and years ago the Gods in heaven began to fear that the men of the earth were going to live forever and so they made a plan by which to destroy them. There should be a great rain for days and days and days, and all these men and women and children should be drowned. Then the Gods would be free from their worries.“But one of the Gods named Ea had a friend who lived on the earth, and so he sent word to him to go with all his family into a big, big ship and take with him two of every kind of animals. Utnapishtim, the friend, did as he was told.“Then the rain came and for six days and nights there was no let-up at all. Deeper and deeper it grew till the Gods in heaven grew afraid and cowered in the highest corner of heaven. By this time every living thing, except the ones in the big ship, was destroyed.“But after six days, the rain ceased. Then the man sent out a dove, but it returned, for it could find no place to rest. Later he sent out a raven and it did not come back, so he knew the waters were going down. Then he made a great sacrifice to the Gods and they came, they saw the great destruction and they gloated over it, pleased that their plan had worked so well.”
“Years and years and years ago the Gods in heaven began to fear that the men of the earth were going to live forever and so they made a plan by which to destroy them. There should be a great rain for days and days and days, and all these men and women and children should be drowned. Then the Gods would be free from their worries.
“But one of the Gods named Ea had a friend who lived on the earth, and so he sent word to him to go with all his family into a big, big ship and take with him two of every kind of animals. Utnapishtim, the friend, did as he was told.
“Then the rain came and for six days and nights there was no let-up at all. Deeper and deeper it grew till the Gods in heaven grew afraid and cowered in the highest corner of heaven. By this time every living thing, except the ones in the big ship, was destroyed.
“But after six days, the rain ceased. Then the man sent out a dove, but it returned, for it could find no place to rest. Later he sent out a raven and it did not come back, so he knew the waters were going down. Then he made a great sacrifice to the Gods and they came, they saw the great destruction and they gloated over it, pleased that their plan had worked so well.”
There was applause when he had finished from many of the group, but the Hebrews did not applaud. They had been taught that there was one true God, not many Gods. They had been taught that God was kind to all and not one that gloated over destruction of men. They were not pleased with the story of the great flood.
Then there came nights out under the stars and they heard the stories of how the earth was made; of how man came to be; of the meaning of many of the things that they saw all about them. But in every story there were116found Gods who were cruel, who were unkind, who quarreled and fought. There were many, many Gods, but none was like unto their God.
As the old Hebrews listened to all these old, old stories from the countries about them which were told so often, they shook their heads sadly and said,
“We have come into this country to live and bring up our children. But if they hear these stories, they will believe some of them and forget the true God. They must have stories of their own that show how great and mighty is the God of Israel. But what shall we do about these stories? If we say the stories are false, they will laugh at us and say, ‘Why, our people have known these stories since long, long before there was a Hebrew on the earth. What our fathers have told us as true is surely true.’ And if we say to our children, ‘You must not listen to these stories,’ they will be all the more eager to listen. What shall we do?”
Finally it was decided that the stories of the Egyptians and the Babylonians must be remade so as to be fit for their children to hear and they must teach the beliefs of their own religion in stories of their own.
So, many weeks later as the men were gathered out under the stars on a beautiful night, one of the best of the Hebrew story-tellers said quietly,
“I have listened to stories about the making of the world from many of you but I think my story is better than any you have told. Would you like to hear the story of how the God of Israel made the world?”
“’Tis a Hebrew who is talking,” said one. “I didn’t know you people had any stories. Give it to us. Then we can compare it with our own great stories.”
And the Hebrew story-teller began:
“In the beginning God created the heaven and the117earth. And these are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created in the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens,“And every plant of the field before it was in the earth and every herb of the field before it grew; for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to till the ground.“But there went up a mist from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground.“And the Lord God formed man out of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.“And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.“And the Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.“And out of the ground the Lord God made every beast of the field and every fowl of the air and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.”
“In the beginning God created the heaven and the117earth. And these are the generations of the heavens and the earth when they were created in the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens,
“And every plant of the field before it was in the earth and every herb of the field before it grew; for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to till the ground.
“But there went up a mist from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground.
“And the Lord God formed man out of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.
“And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food; the tree of life also in the midst of the garden and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
“And the Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.
“And out of the ground the Lord God made every beast of the field and every fowl of the air and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.”
There was silence when the story was finished. This God of whom the Hebrew was telling was wise and mighty enough to make the world, yet he was thoughtful and kind. He allowed man to be a helper. There was only one God. They liked the story so well that they began to tell it also and soon the beautiful story was known all through the land of Canaan. Little by little it drove out the other stories and became the most loved one.
And when the old Hebrews saw the power of the story that told of theonegreat God rather than the many false118Gods, they just took many of the old stories and made them good and wholesome for their own little children to hear.
So great were the stories that the old Hebrews told that you will find many of them living still. You can read them in your own Bible in the book of Genesis.
Ever since that day years and years ago, men have been asking that same old question, “Who made the world?” The greatest men of science and history have tried to answer it, but none of them have found a more beautiful answer to the question than this one which the old sheik told in the days of the long ago and which you will find in the second chapter of Genesis in your Bible.
119HIS DEBT
It was a hot, sultry day in that little town near the Western coast of Africa when Afa Bibo came. He had had a long, long journey from his home among the Ntum people far to the south of Efulen. So he, as well as the men who had brought him, was glad when they saw the rude little hospital looming up at the end of the path.
Years and years before, when Afa Bibo was just a little baby, his mother and father, because they were superstitious and ignorant, had deliberately infected the little one with yaws, one of the most loathsome of African diseases. Little by little the disease had spread through his system till now, a boy in his teens, he was gradually losing his sight. So they had brought him to the white doctor who had done so much for boys and girls in the neighborhood, to see if he could also help Afa Bibo.
It took only a glance at the one eye to know that the sight was gone forever. But there was a chance that the other might be saved. To be sure, the inflammation was there and much damage had been done, but still there was a chance. So they put him under the care of the nurse and began the fight that was to tell whether he was to be one of the many African blind ones who suffer so much and help so little, or whether he was to be like other boys.
It was a long, hard time for the little fellow. The eyes must be washed with a solution that was very painful; he must spend long hours not only lying in bed but with all light shut from his eye. He grew very weary with it all. But after the months had gone, Afa Bibo went out120of that hospital with an eye as clean and white in the ball as yours or mine.
Of course, he was anxious to go back to his people and tell them what wonderful things had been done for him, but the Doctor said,
“Afa, you can do much with your one good eye, but if you will stay right here and go to school with the boys for a time, you can do much, much more. You can be as good as one man, two men, and perhaps as much as three. If you will stay, you can be a big man in your own tribe. It may be you could be a teacher and tell the boys there how to read and write or it might be—yes, it might be—you could be a doctor and make other boys to see, just as we have done to you.”
So Afa Bibo stayed in the mission school and learned to study, and to work, and to think. For a time he felt badly to think he had only one eye when all his companions had two, but little by little he seemed to have forgotten it.
Then came the day when the Christian people of that little African church were to pledge a definite number of days of service in carrying the message of the Christ to others. Some were to go out and teach; some were to carry Testaments and tracts written in Bulu to others; some were to help about the mission station so that there might be a better place in which to teach the ones who came. Some were to raise extra crops so they might have something to give to those who went far out to teach. Every one could give something, even though it was very different from what another gave.
As it neared the time for the service, the black people might be seen coming from all directions. Some had walked five miles, some ten, and some even twenty. All had something to eat so that they might stay to hear all the good news that could be given in a day. They filled121the little bare building which the boys of the school had builded for a church; they filled the window spaces; then they filled the yard about the church. Oh! there were very many of them and all were eager for the service to begin.
Holding the roof of the little church were large poles which had been painted white and on these the pledges were to be made. So as the service began, many looked at the poles and thought what a wonderful thing it was to be allowed to give of themselves to the God who had become their own.
Soon the pledging began. First to go was the old chief who had given up his twenty wives that he might become a Christian. He was old. What would he give? First he made a slanting line and then he crossed it. Ah! that was ten days of service.
Then others were ready, and some gave ten days, some one or two weeks, and some could even give a month. The lines covered one pole and then another as the people passed down the aisle and out of the building.
Last of all came the boys of the school. How could they give? They were only boys. But they could take of their play time till they had gained a day or more to give. One marked after another and last of all it was the turn of Afa Bibo.
Very near to him stood the kind doctor who had made him free from the pain and able to see the way as he came to the white pole. So he smiled one of his rare smiles as he passed him. Then he made a slanting line and crossed it; another and crossed it. That was twenty days. No boy had given as much as that. But he was making another—twenty-five days. And he crossed the third. Then with his shoulders square and resolve in his face he went out with the rest.
As the missionaries sat before their home on the122following day, they saw Afa Bibo coming across the yard to them. Calling the doctor aside, he said,
“Doctor, I am not satisfied with what I pledged yesterday. I want to give more.”
“But, Afa,” said the doctor, “already you have pledged thirty days. That is a great deal for a boy to give. A pledge to God from you must be as binding as His promise is to us. Work out the thirty days and then come back and give Him more if you like.”
“But I am not happy about it,” said the boy, “I want to give more.”
“I think you had better leave it just as it is, for I am sure you do not know how long thirty days will be when you begin to give it all. Run along and do your lessons. I think you have given much to God,” said the Doctor.
Then Afa slowly came very near to the doctor. Looking up into his face, he pulled down the lower lid of the good eye showing it to be white and free from all soreness and pain.
“Doctor,” he said, “do you see that good eye? Well, God saved me that eye and I have more to be thankful for than any one else in all that big churchful yesterday. I owe him more than thirty days. Please, sir, I want to pay back a little of what I owe him. Let me make it thirty-five.”
So together the doctor, who had given his life for God, and the little black boy, who was just beginning to give, went to the church and put another black mark on the tall white pole. And Afa Bibo went out to work his thirty-five days for God.
Were you to go among the Ntum people to-day, you would find there a man who is beloved by all because he has loved to give of himself to his people. He has a kindly face and a loving heart. It is Afa Bibo, the boy who is still eager to pay for his one good eye.
123HOW KAGIGEGABO BECAME A BRAVE
Kagigegabo sat in front of the wigwam watching the fire slowly die out. Her heart was full of bitterness. For days she had watched the Braves get ready for the long chase. They had painted their faces; they had given their war cries; they had fasted and prayed.
And now they had gone and the camp seemed very still. Oh! how she had wanted to go! Why was she born a girl when she did want to be a Brave! Girls could never do brave things—they had to stay at home, and tend the fires, and hoe the garden. Everything a girl had to do, she hated. Everything a boy had to do, she liked. Her name was Kagigegabo, which meant “One who stands forever.” That would be a great name for a Brave, but she could never do anything that was worth while. She was only a girl.
Slowly she rose to bring the corn and grind it. There was little needed, for the Braves of the wigwam had all gone—even Guka, her brother, had gone. Before this she had watched the others go and then had had him to cheer her. Oh, dear! Why was she a girl?
Hearing a step behind her, she rose to find Wicostu, the oldest squaw of the tribe, waiting to speak with her.
“I have heard your thought,” she said. “You think that to be a girl is to be less than a Brave. It is not so. It is not so. To be a squaw one must be very brave. We cannot go to hunt and to kill, but it takes no less of courage to stay here and guard the tepees. It takes courage to bear pain—it takes courage to be tired and not complain. You can be brave, Kagigegabo, even though124you must grow into a Mahala and sit by the fire. The courage is not in the war paint and feathers—the courage is all in the heart.”
Kagigegabo sat very still after Wicostu had left her. Over and over she said to herself those last words of the old squaw—“The courage is all in the heart.” Perhaps after all she could be a Brave, such as Guka was trying to be.
Down toward the spring she ran to get the water for the meal when, suddenly, a hand reached out of the bushes, and she was drawn into them. When she tried to scream, a heavy band was placed over her mouth, and then her hands were tied, her eyes were bandaged and she felt herself being thrown on a pony. Oh! how fast they went!—like the wind it seemed.
Who had taken her? Where was she going? What did they want? Frightened as she was, she still was trying to think.
Then, like a flash, there came to her something that she had heard the old chief say when she had been trying to get closer to the council fire the last night.
“We shall go by the hill trail, for Eagle’s Claw will surely have spies about the camp. We cannot get through the valley alive.”
Perhaps she had been taken by the spies and was on her way to the enemy camp of Eagle’s Claw. Oh! What did they want? If only she were a Brave, perhaps she would know what to do. Then there came to her the words of Wicostu:
“You can be brave. The courage is all in the heart.” But to be brave when one did not know what was going to happen—oh! that was hard.
When the bandage was taken from her eyes, she was in the center of a circle of old Braves. Very fierce they looked as she glanced about the circle. Her knees shook125till it seemed she must fall. Then she made a low bow to the chief and pointed to her feet—a sign that she was ready to be his slave.
“Do you see that knife?” he screamed at her. “You shall die unless you tell us by what path and to what place your Braves went to-day. Speak!”
What should she do? If she told, the men would die. If she kept silence, she must die. Her hands trembled. Then she remembered again the words of Wicostu, “Courage is all in the heart,” and smiling at the chief she said:
“Kagigegabo will lead you. She knows not the name, but the way.”
For a long time they counseled. Should they go? At last five of the Braves were ready. They mounted her on a pony. Then they came to her with a great bow and some poisoned arrows and said:
“If you try to escape, these are for you. If you lead us wrong, these are for you. If you lead us right, you shall have this young Brave,” and they led forth one of the strong, young Braves of the tribe. “Go.”
Out of the encampment went the six horses. Where should she go? She must lead in the way of the hill. But how could she? Once she climbed a tree to get a look out and so gained a little time. Once she led them where the rock dropped sheer and bare, and again she gained time. But nearer and nearer to the meeting place she came.
Suddenly low at her feet she saw a tiny, white flower. It was the one used by her mother to make the sweet drink that would make one sleep, and sleep, and sleep. But if too much was taken, it meant death. A daring plan came to her mind. Dare she do it? Dare she eat of it? Mother brewed it—she must eat it as it was. They were still several hours from where she knew her father126was to be found. If her plan succeeded, she could save him.
Reaching down, she dug her feet into the sides of the little pony. Immediately his heels went high in the air and she lay flat on the ground.
Quickly she gathered much of the little white flower and pushed it into her dress. Then when the men came, she was lying with broken ankle on the ground. The pain was intense, but the happiness that they must stop was sweet to the girl. Over and over and over she said to herself, “Courage is all in the heart. I can be a Brave.”
She took some of the little white flower and began to eat of it.
“What is it?” said the men. “What do you eat?”
“I eat the sweet flower of this little plant. If you eat of this, you shall not thirst,” said the girl.
Now they had ridden far and hard and the day was very warm, so when the men heard this, they bent and gathered bits of the plant. It was sweet and pleasing to the taste, so they ate more and more of it. And the Indian girl watched them and smiled when none could see.
It was decided to get the evening meal while the oldest chief bound the ankle of the girl. So they hurriedly cooked it. But before it was ready, the leader leaned against the old tree and he was asleep. Then another and another slept. Stronger than opium had been the flower that they had eaten.
Kagigegabo watched them while her own eyes began to droop. She must not go to sleep. Oh! what could she do? She must ride when they were asleep. What could she do? She turned and twisted the broken ankle. That helped a bit, for the pain was intense. She pulled great locks of her hair and tied them about her fingers so that the blood would have to force its way about. And after127what seemed to her to be hours, she was still awake and the five men were all sleeping.
Slowly, very slowly, she pulled herself away from the fire out into the bush where her pony was tied. Her feet seemed determined not to move and she wanted so much to lie down and sleep. But she kept on till she had led the pony away from the group. Then she mounted and started on her ride.
But it was no use. She could not stay awake. Now what was she to do? They were on the direct road to the valley. For a moment she hesitated. Then quickly she tore her dress in strips. Taking a sharp stone, she cut her arm and with the blood she made two pictures on a piece of wood—the one showed five Indians asleep—the other showed an Indian girl by the road. Taking the strips from her dress, she fastened the bit of wood to the saddle.
She took from her arm the circle of brass which would tell her father from whom the message had come, and fastened it to the saddle. Then a cut of the whip across the legs sent the pony flying down the path.
After he had gone, the girl sat in a dazed way near the path. She was so tired. If only they would hurry, then she could tell them which way to go—but sleep came before the pony had gone even one mile.
Five days later, Kagigegabo opened her eyes slowly and looked about. She was lying on the skins in the wigwam of her mother. Her ankle was tightly bound and she felt very stiff and sore. Across her wrist there was an ugly cut. No one was about so she lay there trying to remember what had happened. How long had she been there and where was her mother?
A step sounded outside and an old war chief—her father—looked anxiously into the tent. When he saw her128eyes open, he came slowly in and gazed long at the Indian girl on the bed and then went as slowly out again.
When he came back, there were with him five other chiefs. Around the bed they stood in a silent circle and Kagigegabo wondered what they were going to do with her. Had she done wrong? Was she to be punished?
But the old chief spoke:
“Kagigegabo, you have saved the tribe from ruin, and because of your help, we have captured the enemy, for whom we were searching. They have told us of your bravery and of your wisdom. You were more full of courage than any squaw we have ever known. You shall no longer be called Kagigegabo, but you shall be called Aotonaka, the daring one.”
Then upon the arm of the girl who had wished she could be a Brave they bound a red band—the red band of courage.129