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´╗┐Title: Dew Drops, Vol. 37, No. 15, April 12, 1914
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Dew Drops, Vol. 37, No. 15, April 12, 1914" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.

12, 1914***


VOL. 37. No. 15. Weekly

David C. Cook Publishing Co., Elgin, Illinois. George E. Cook, Editor

April 12, 1914





"Why, Myra, what is the matter?"

Mabel had found Myra crying in a little sheltered place where the
little neighbors sometimes played together. Mabel lived in a big house
and Myra in a little one, but they were neighbors, and loved each
other just the same.

"I don't mean to cry long," Myra said, "but I couldn't help having a
small cry before I began to look pleasant. It's because mother could
not make my white dress for Easter. She had to sew for other people
till it was too late, and now I have to wear my blue dress when all
the rest in our class wear white."

"That is too bad." said Mabel, putting her arm around her small
neighbor, "but we'll all love you just the same."

"Yes," Myra said, drying her tears, "and mother said that if I would
take it pleasantly, and be happy just the same, because it was right,
that it would be like an Easter love-gift. I can't take many pennies,
but I do mean to take the love-gift, and I'll begin now, so that's the
last tear." Her smile came out like a bright little rainbow. Mabel
kissed her, because she could not help it, and the two little girls
went together to look for as many little spring things as they could
find. This was the best possible thing to do.

"Mother," said Mabel that night, in the little go-to-bed talk. "Myra
has to wear a blue dress on Easter Day, when the rest of us will all
wear white. I am so sorry for her."

"Is Myra very sorry, too?" asked mother.

"Of course she is, mother: I found her crying over it this afternoon.
But she stopped pretty soon, and said she would not cry any more."
Then Mabel told about the "love-gift."

"I wish I could take some kind of a love-gift, too," said Mabel,
seeing that her mother thought this a beautiful thing.

"I am sure you could, if you would." said mother.

"Please, tell me how."

"No. it must be your own _love-thought_ first. You will have to-morrow
to think it out. Good-night, now."

Mabel thought and thought a long time, next day. At last she whispered
something to mother that made her look very happy, and say "Yes,

On Easter morning Mabel waited for Myra, that they might go to
Sunday-school together.

"Oh, oh!" cried Myra, as she saw Mabel, "you have on your pink dress
in-stead of your new white one. Now I don't mind my blue one."

"We sit in the same row, you know," said Mabel, "and we'll be near
together." She looked very happy. The two little girls with shining
faces went together to God's house, and One above looked down and
smiled upon them.

       *       *       *       *       *


"Something's going on over to our place."

Billy Wells walked into the school yard at noon with a face which
showed that the "something" was very important indeed. The other boys
gathered in a little crowd about him.

"What is it, Billy?"

[Illustration: "We sit in the same row," said Mabel.]

"Tell us, Billy."

"It's--somebody that's come there--"

"What for?"

"To stay, I guess. Acts that way."

"Friends of the folks?"

"No, we've never seen 'em before."

"Do you mean some kind of a tramp?"

"What's he doing?"

"Seems to be building a house."

"A house? Well, that sounds queer."


"In my father's back yard."

"Billy, you're joking."

"It's as true as I stand here."

"Well, go on and tell more about it. Did he skulk 'round as if he was

"Not a bit of it."

"Did he see you?"

"Well," Billy hesitated a little. "I didn't go so very near him."

"That's best for you," one of the boys shook his head wisely. "You
never can tell what these tramp fellows may be up to."

"How do you mean--building?"

"Just what I say. He was picking up things in the yard to build with.
Stuff to begin with."

"Your father's stuff?"


"What does your father think of it?"

"I don't believe he's seen him. Father goes to work early."

"Of course he'll drive him off."

"Another one came and helped him," said Billy. "They were both working
hard when I came to school."

"Billy, you're fooling us."

"You can come and see for yourselves," said Billy. "You can see if it
isn't exactly as I've said."

"Let's do it."

It was agreed, and after school a number of small boys took with him
the road leading to Billy's home. As they went in by the shady back
yard, Billy held up his hand, saying:

"S-h-h-h-h--don't scare 'em! Now--come this way--look up there!"

Billy led the way into a corner and pointed up into an oak tree.

"There--right above that branch--see? They've got their sticks for the
foundation, and now they're finishing up. Quick--see that flash of
blue just where the sun shines! Look! look! they're pulling at that
bit of red yarn--I put it up there. My mother always hangs bits of
string about for 'em. My mother likes blue-birds."--_Written for Dew
Drops by Sydney Dare._

       *       *       *       *       *

When anyone speaks to us in anger, we should remember that it takes
two to make a quarrel, and determine not to become one of the two.

       *       *       *       *       *




The first robin had come, so had the first bluebird and the first
hand-organ man; caterpillars were beginning to crawl along the sunny
side of the fence rails and everybody was housecleaning, so it was
quite certain that spring was here.

With it there came to the three little Ashley sisters three packets of

A lady friend of their mother had sent them. Every one of them had
printed on it, "A Surprise Collection."

When the little, light-brown envelopes were opened, they were found to
contain several varieties of seeds. Some were like little, round,
brown pills--those were "sweet-peas," mamma said. Others were very
small indeed, like grains of powder, and some were like tiny,
grayish-green sticks--somebody said those were verbena seeds; and,
well, dear me, there were all kinds and shapes and sizes and grays and

Three neat, round beds were spaded up on the lawn, and Amy, Enid and
Ruth raked them over, smoothed and patted the rich soil, and then
planted their seeds.

Of course, you know what happened next. There had to be waiting,
watching, weeding and watering. Most of the seeds sprouted and grew,
and soon the dark brown earth was covered by green shoots and trailing

By and by, buds began to appear and tiny bits of color to show, and
then how happy the little girls were!

All but Enid. She was pleased, but also a little disappointed.

Now, it so happened, that Ruth's "Surprise Collection" turned out to
be pansies, asters, phlox and ragged sailors--all posies of bright
pink, purple and crimson in various shades. Amy's garden plot was gay
with marigolds, four-o'clocks, larkspurs, and bachelor's-buttons--all
orange and yellow, blue and purple.

[Illustration: Enid was pleased.]

But Enid's flowers were nearly all white, and it was truly a surprise,
though not a very agreeable one. She had white verbenas, sweet
alyssum, candytuft, daisies and gillyflowers.

Consequently, her flower bed did not attract as much attention from
the passers-by as did the gay ones of her sisters.

"Anyhow, almost all my posies are sweet-smelling," the little girl
said, trying her best to be contented. For, after all, to own flowers,
every one of which was fragrant, was a comfort.

Then, there came another comfort--a real "surprise" comfort. Late one
evening, after the family had been away all day, attending the
Sunday-school picnic, and drove home in the moonlight, what do you
suppose they saw as they turned in at the gateway? Why, there on the
lawn, was a great circle of white, gleaming like frosted silver.

"Wonder if a sheet has blown off the clothesline," said grandma.

"Oh, it isn't a sheet--it's my flower bed! It's my dear, darling white

And, sure enough, the white flowers could be seen in the dark, when
all the gay reds and yellows and blues and purples were dim and dull.

Enid felt very happy.

"I like 'surprise collections' you can see at night," she said.

       *       *       *       *       *


    "How much I love, you, mother dear,"
        A little prattler said;
    "I love you in the morning bright,
        And when I go to bed.

    "I love you when I'm near to you,
        And when I'm far away;
    I love you when I am at work,
        And when I am at play."

    And then she shyly, sweetly raised
        Her loving eyes of blue--
    "I love you when you love me best,
        And when you scold me, too."

    The mother kissed her darling child,
        And stooped a tear to hide:
    "My precious one, I love you most
        When I am forced to chide.

    "I could not let my darling child
        In sin and folly go;
    And this is why I sometimes chide--
        Because I love you so."

       *       *       *       *       *


There was a big umbrella with a pretty twisted handle, that belonged
to father, and he carried it down town on rainy days. There was a
little brown-eyed girl, who was four years old her last birthday; that
was Marjorie.

There was a mischievous south wind that would be quiet for a long time
and then come with a quick gust and blow, oh, ever so hard and play
all sorts of pranks on people.

Then, there was a lady who sat on a porch not very far from Marjorie's
house. These four together made a story, and that's what I am going to
tell you about.

It was a beautiful sunny day and Marjorie was going out in the front
yard to play. As she went through the hall there, by the hall tree,
stood the big umbrella.

"Wouldn't it be fun to take the umbrella and play rainy day?" she
thought. So she reached and picked it up.

Through the door, across the porch and down onto the sidewalk she ran.
She worked a long while before she could get the umbrella to stay up.

"Now, I am a big lady with a long dress and I am going over to the
store," she said to herself as she gathered her little short skirt up
with one hand, and held the umbrella up straight and fine with the
other. Walking carefully, "because it is so muddy," she said, as down
the street she started. Pretty soon a gust of the mischievous south
wind came along and lifted the umbrella right out of Marjorie's little
fat hand and took it out into the middle of the street and set it

Forgetting the rainy day, the long skirt, and the mud, off the curbing
she jumped, and ran for the umbrella. She had almost grasped it
again, when along came another gust of wind, and down the street
bumity-bump went the big, open umbrella. Marjorie started to run after
it, but over and over it went so much faster than a little girl could
run, that it was soon far out of her reach.

[Illustration: She walked carefully because it was muddy.]

Then she began to cry.

"Catch it, oh, catch it!" she screamed, as she ran.

The lady I told you about heard the cry, and looking up from her
reading, saw the big umbrella go rolling past, followed by the
frightened, crying little girl. Down the steps she ran and out into
the street after the umbrella. "Bump," it went up against a telephone
pole and the wind left it there. In a moment the lady had it in her

"I want it down, oh, please, I want it down." sobbed Marjorie all out
of breath.

"Now, it's all right. Don't cry any more," said the lady as she put it
down and handed it to Marjorie, kissing her little tear-stained face.

Marjorie clung to it with both hands and started for home. She wanted
to put the umbrella back by the hall tree, and tell mother all about
the runaway.--_Written for Dew Drops by Flora Louise Whitmore._

       *       *       *       *       *


"Oh, look, Bobby!" said Betty, as she jumped out of the swing, and
went running down toward the hayfield. "Here comes Joe, and he has
something to show us. I know it's a surprise."

Bobby looked, and then he and Betty went running to meet Joe, who was
coming along the path by the orchard. He was carrying his straw hat
carefully in one hand, and beckoning with his other hand for the
children to hurry and see the surprise.

"What have you got?" shouted both the children, excitedly, as they
came near.

"Eggs." said Joe.

"Oh, eggs," said Bobby and Betty. "Eggs--why eggs are nothing to see.
We find them every day."

"Yes," said Joe, "but these are not hen's eggs--they are pheasant's

Bobby and Betty looked, and sure enough, in Joe's hat were seven
eggs--olive-brown in color.

"We were mowing in the meadow," said Joe, "and we almost ran over a
mother pheasant on her nest. She flew up right under the horse's feet,
and old Nell almost stepped into the nest. I took all the eggs,
because a pheasant will not come back to the nest after she has been
frightened away. She finds another place and makes a new nest. She
won't go back to the old one."

"Well," said Bobby, "what are you going to do with the eggs?"

"Oh," said Joe, "I'm going to put them under that little brown bantam
hen that wants to set, and let her hatch them."

So Bobby and Betty went with Joe, and watched him while he made a
comfortable nest in an old box in the shop loft. Then he put the seven
eggs in the nest carefully, and got the little bantam hen and put her
in, too. She clucked and scolded, and when Joe put her in the box she
stood up and moved the eggs round with her feet, to arrange them as
she wished before she would settle down; but when Bobby and Betty
peeped in, a little later, she was all comfortable for her long wait
of three weeks. Joe put grain and water near by, and Bobby and Betty
peeped in almost every day.

One day when the children went near the nest, they heard little
peeping sounds, and ran to tell Joe. He came and lifted up the little
bantam hen, although she scolded and pecked at him; and in the nest
Bobby and Betty saw six little pheasant chicks and one egg that did
not hatch. The pheasant chicks were little brown downy things, and Joe
took hen, chicks, nest and all, and made a little coop for them under
the orchard trees. The little chicks were very lively and very
shy--not like hen chicks; they loved to run away and hide in the
grass, and the children could hardly find them at all when they looked
for them. Mother Bantam would cluck and run back and forth in the coop
and call to them, she was so afraid something would happen. At last,
one day, Joe decided to let the little bantam run with her brood, and
show them how to scratch and find worms. So he took away the slats
from the foot of the coop, and Mrs. Bantam stepped out.

The children saw the hen and chicks in the orchard grass. The little
pheasants ran through the orchard and the little bantam hen followed
them. What became of them nobody knew, and they have never been seen
since. Joe thinks they are still out in the woods, and that the little
pheasants are teaching their mother how to get her own food

       *       *       *       *       *

    "Not mighty deeds make up the sum
      Of happiness below:
    But little acts of kindliness,
      Which any child may show."

       *       *       *       *       *




The pine woodland was dark and sweet and cool, and grandmother and
little Emily were walking through it, hand in hand, enjoying its peace
and fragrance. The trees grew so closely on either side of the narrow
path that hardly a glimpse of blue sky could be seen overhead, and not
a shaft of golden sunlight was bold enough to shine down through the
glossy pine needles, as both were thinking.

"Why, yes there is!" little Emily called suddenly, as if answering her
own thoughts aloud. "There's a sunbeam over there--right where the
trees are thickest!"

Grandmother and she hurried to the spot; it seemed a little strange
that the sunlight should have filtered down through such dense shade.
And when they reached it, it was not sunshine at all. It was a
delicate spray of clustered yellow bells, swaying from a slender
thread of vine, and filling the spring air with delicious perfume.

"Oh, it's jasmine!" grandmother and little Emily exclaimed, at the
same moment. And a mocking-bird, flying by, stopped a moment to trill
a sweet strain, as if he, too, was glad to welcome back this lovely
blossom of early spring.

Little Emily gathered the spray of golden bells very carefully, to
carry it home to mother, who was not well enough to walk in the
woodland and see it where it grew; and all that day and the next, the
sweetness of the delicate flowers filled the room and seemed to speak
of love and hope and cheer.

"They bring the sunshine and springtime right here to me," the little
girl's mother said, looking lovingly at Emily. "They are like a small
lassie I know, who helps to brighten all the dark places in my life."

Emily looked questioningly at her mother. "What does that mean,
mamma?" she asked. And grandmother, who was standing by, said, with a

"You thought the jasmine bells, shining in the dark wood, were a gleam
of sunshine, dear, brightening up the gloom. There are sometimes dark
places in our lives, you know; mother is having one just now, while
she is not well enough to go out herself into the sunshine. And her
little daughter, by being sweet and cheery, is just such a gleam of
sunshine to her as the jasmine bells were to the dark pine woods."

Little Emily leaned over her mother for a kiss, then turned to touch
caressingly the golden bells of the jasmine.

"Dear little sunshine flowers," she said, lovingly. "I'll try to
remember you every day, and be a sunshine maker, too."

[Illustration: "You thought the jasmine bells were sunshine."]

       *       *       *       *       *

The more one controls his temper, the less will it control him.

       *       *       *       *       *

Knowledge Box


Berry is not something to eat, as you might think, but a big dog that
has a very important place. He is the night watchdog of the Electra
Company's factory in Cleveland, Ohio. Before Berry was given the job
they had a watchman, but he had to be discharged because he was
unfaithful, which Berry never is. He is well fitted for the place, as
he is a big, powerful animal, part Newfoundland and part St. Bernard,
and weighs 170 pounds. Not only does he do his duty well, but Berry
works cheap, for he is counted an employee of the company, and is on
the pay roll at seventy cents a week, which is the cost of the food he

Berry is not only faithful, but one night he even proved himself a
hero, in a battle with two desperate safe robbers, who had gained
entrance to the office by sawing the lock, thinking, no doubt, that
they could easily overcome the watchdog. But when the door was burst
open, Berry instantly sprang at the burglars, and a terrible fight he
had, for the men who had come armed with pieces of lead pipe, struck
him most cruel blows.

But they struck in vain, for with howls of mingled pain and
determination to guard his trust, Berry fought the robbers till they
were glad to escape into the darkness. It had been a desperate
struggle, and though Berry was terribly hurt, he had proved that he
was both fearless and faithful. In the morning he was found lying
beside the safe whose valuable contents he had kept from being
touched, but with only enough of life left to give a feeble wag of
welcome to his master, as though he would say, "You trusted me. and I
have kept the trust."

So badly was Berry injured that he was taken to a dog hospital where
for two weeks it was uncertain whether he would live or die. But at
last he grew well so he was able to go back to work again, more loved
and trusted than ever.

Though only a dog, was not Berry a hero?--_Written for Dew Drops by
Adele E. Thompson._

       *       *       *       *       *


    Awake, pretty flowers
      Asleep in the snows,
    For this is the morning
      When Jesus arose.
    Each lily he loved
      In the meadows of old,
    Will welcome the Master
      With blossoms of gold.

    Ye violets, sweet with
      The breath of the South;
    Anemone blushing,
      With rosy-lipped mouth;
    Arbutus, half-hiding
      Your delicate grace--
    The Savior has risen,
      Behold ye his face!

    The types of his death
      And rising are ye.
    Fair gems of the meadow,
      Bright buds of the lea.
    "Messiah is living!"
      The cherubim say;
    Shine forth in your beauty
      To greet him to-day!

OUR LESSON.--For April 12.

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *

Title.--The Journey to Emmaus (Easter Lesson).--Luke 24: 13-35.

Golden Text.--It is Christ ... that was raised from the dead.--Rom.

_Golden Text for Beginners_.--Be ye _kind one to another_.--Eph. 4:32.

Truth.--Jesus is alive for evermore.

1. The day that Jesus arose from the dead two of his friends walked to
a village called Emmaus, near Jerusalem.


2. Jesus passing by noticed that as they walked they talked together
and seemed very sad.

3. He went up to them and walked with them and asked them why they
were so sorrowful.

4. They did not believe that Jesus had risen from the dead, and when
they saw him they did not know him.

5. They told him about the sad things that had happened--how Jesus had
been put to death and placed in the grave.


6. They said that some women who had visited the tomb of Jesus had
told them that Jesus was risen.

7. Jesus then told the two men that if they were not so slow to
believe the Word of God and the promise Jesus had given them they
would know that it must be true.

8. When they came to their home the men urged Jesus to stop with them
for it was now evening.

9. While they were eating supper Jesus took bread and blessed it and
gave it to them.


10. As they saw Jesus blessing the bread they knew him, but he at once
vanished out of their sight.


11. They said one to another, "Did not our hearts burn within us while
we talked by the way?"


12. They at once went back to Jerusalem to tell the other disciples
the good news that Jesus had truly risen from the dead and they had
seen him.

       *       *       *       *       *


What is the Golden Text? What is the Truth?

1. On what day did two of Jesus' friends walk to a village called

2. As Jesus passed by, what did he notice?

3. What did he do?

4. What did they not believe?

5. About what did they tell him?

6. What had some women told them, who had visited Jesus' tomb?

7. What did Jesus tell the two men?

8. When they came to their home what did they urge Jesus to do?

9. While they were eating supper what did Jesus do?

10. When they knew him what became of Jesus?

11. What did they say one to another?

12. What did they at once go back to Jerusalem to tell the other

       *       *       *       *       *


_Tune_--"Jesus loves me, this I know," omitting chorus (E flat).

Close beside us every day
Christ is walking all the way;
And his voice is very near;
If we listen we may hear.

Title of Lesson for April 19.

The Cost of Discipleship.--Luke 14:25-35.

       *       *       *       *       *

Golden Text for April 19.

Whosoever shall lose his life for my sake shall find it.--Matt. 16:25.

       *       *       *       *       *

Beginners Golden Text for April 19.

_Be ye kind one to another_.--Eph. 4:32.

       *       *       *       *       *

Advice to Boys and Girls

The Extra Step Society.

The "Extra Step Society" was formed in the Martin household when the
mother was forced to be on the lounge for some time with a sprained
ankle. It was Tom who cheerfully took an extra step on his way to
school each day to call at his grandmother's and report the progress
of the invalid. It was Bessie who left her play and stepped softly
into the parlor every morning to lower the blind so that the sun's
rays might not beam too warmly on her mother's face. And it was wee
Alice who took many an extra step during the day, sometimes to carry a
glass of fresh water to her mother, and sometimes to bring a magazine
or paper.

"We're trying to pay you back a little, mamma," Bessie said lovingly
one night when all the children were gathered around their mother. "We
don't mind a bit taking extra steps if only we can make you
comfortable, so you must not think we get tired of doing things for

"Bless my faithful, unselfish little nurses!" Mrs. Martin rejoined
earnestly. "Love lightens your labors."--_Sel._

       *       *       *       *       *

Thoughts for Mothers

The Care of the Home.

The busy mother will find the care of the home too much for one pair
of hands unless she enlists the children as helpers. Let her begin to
practice systematics at once. Assign some corner or box of play-things
to one child to be cared for. A small boy might have the work of
putting away yesterday's newspapers regularly, as his part in keeping
the house tidy. The small daughter could pick up and dust in one
special room, taking care that a second dusting by a more careful hand
is not necessary.

The motive for doing these little tasks well should be made prominent,
showing that the child is big enough to "help" mother. Praise should
be bestowed, not as if it were anything astonishing and out of the way
for the child to do the work well, but as a token of appreciation of
the motive and manner in doing it. Encourage as much as possible, but
do not develop vanity by praising to excess.

Let their love be the mainspring of their every act of
service.--_Written for Dew Drops by Julia H. Johnston_.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Entered at the Post Office at Elgin, Ill., as Second Class Mail

Price of Dew Drops.--In lots of five or more, to one address, 20
cents per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. Address,

David C. Cook Publishing Co., Elgin, Ill.

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