but I must decrease." Not every man is able to say that of himself and others, even when it is true. John was truly humble and sincere or he could not have made such a statement at the high tide of his popularity and success, at the very time when "all men mused in their hearts of John, whether he were the Christ, or not." With complete self-forgetfulness he could point them to One, the latchets of whose shoes he felt unworthy to stoop down and unloose.

John was sincere, even when doubt and darkness assailed him. He sent directly to Jesus and challenged him for a declaration of his Messiahship. Jesus answered him by pointing out the work that was being done, work that none but the Messiah could do; on the principle afterward announced that men should believe him for the very work's sake.

John was a man of great moral courage. He was not afraid to denounce the sins of his generation, even when they were practiced by the mighty. He faced Herod and denounced him because of his adulterous relationship with his brother's wife. This act finally cost him his life.

John was fortunate to merit and receive the praise of his Master. But here is the thought that cheers us: Anyone who cultivates the characteristics that commended him to the favor of Jesus will receive his approval and will receive the plaudit, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." Let us cultivate sincerity, humility, and moral courage.

(To be continued.)

The Woodland Path.

Adown the woodland path at break of day, I love to roam,
To brush the dewdrops from the fresh, green grass;
To hear the wild bird singing in his cool and shady home,
And watch the painted moths and butterflies go past.
The minnows dart along the stream,

And in the golden sunlight gleam;
The distant hills are hazy like a dream;

And all is fair adown the woodland path.

In every nook some sight of beauty makes a tender thought;
Some flower blooming by some old gray stone;
Or tiny bird's nest with abundant skill and labor wrought;
Or faithful shadow over shining waters thrown.
The thickets darkly dense and still,

Where scarce the slender vine leaves thrill;-
Unbend, oh, brow! and sad heart, take thy fill
Of rest, beside the lonely woodland path.

O, bend above me, honeysuckle, blooming in the wood;
And breathe upon my face, thou low, sad wind;
Whose gentle cadences will do my weary spirit good,
While care and toil a moment enter not my mind.
The forest brings to me a balm;
Its moving gives my soul a calm;
As if the Spirit of the great I Am,

Came to me, while I roam the woodland path.
-David H. Smith.

A Moment's Relaxation.

A QUICK SHIFT. A Scottish parson, remarkable for the simple force of his pulpit style was enlarging one Sunday upon the text, "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."

"Yes, my friends," urged he with solemn earnestness, "unless ye repent ye shall as surely perish," deftly placing his left forefinger on the wing of a bluebottle fly that had just alighted upon the reading desk while the parson's right hand was uplifted, "just as surely as, my friends, I flatten this poor fly."

But before the threatened blow descended the fly got away, whereupon the minister further "improved the occasion" with ready wit, exclaiming, "There's a chance for ye yet, my friends."-The Continent.

USURIOUS. "What's the biggest interest you ever had to pay on a loan?"

"When I borrowed trouble."-Toledo Blade.

LOOKING AHEAD. "My dear," says the husband, as his wife comes to join him for a walk, attired in her hobble skirt, basket hat, and other things of the present mode, "I want you to come to the photographer's and have your picture made, just as you are."

"Why, do you like me so well in this costume?" she beams.

"Well, my idea is that two years from now I can show you the picture, and you will say the things about it that I would like to say about your apearance just now."-Life.

A GOOD MEMORY.-In a New Brunswick village a town character who preferred emphasis to the verities was a witness in a petty trial involving an auger. He positively identified it as the property of the parties to the suit.

"But," asked the attorney for the other side, "do you swear that you know this auger?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long have you known it?" he continued.

"I have known that auger," said the witness, impressively, “ever since it was a gimlet."-Everybody's Magazine.

Department of The
Woman's Auxiliary
of the Church.

Organized for Social Service.

Truer Parenthood, Better Children, Happier Homes, Purer Society.
CALLIE B. STEBBINS, Editor.

"A partnership with God is parenthood;

What strength, what purity, what self-control,
What love, what wisdom, should belong to them
Who help God fashion an immortal soul."

"I am among you as he that serveth." Jesus.
"Ye shall succor men: 'tis nobleness to serve."

ADVISORY BOARD. Mrs. B. C. Smith, president, 214 South Spring street, Independence, Missouri; Mrs. F. M. Smith, vice-president, 630 South Crysler street, Independence, Missouri; Mrs. D. J. Krahl. secretary, 724 South Crysler street, Independence, Missouri; Mrs. L. L. Resseguie, Lamoni, Iowa; Mrs. H. A. Stebbins, Lamoni, Iowa.

Treasurer, Mrs. M. E. Hulmes, 909 Maple avenue, Independence, Missouri. Chairman of Finance Committee: Mrs. L. R. Wells, 700 South Crysler street, Independence, Missouri.

Chairman of Social Purity Committee: Mrs. F. M. Smith, 630 South Crysler street, Independence, Missouri.

Chairman of Ways and Means Committee:

Iowa.

Mrs. T. A. Hougas, Macedonia,

The Responsibility of Fathers.-

By Mrs. F. M. Smith.

OT LONG ago a line of men, many of whom were fathers, was brought before the judge of the police court. They had been arrested for various offenses: fighting, stealing, drunkenness, and for lack of self-control in different ways, which resulted in breaking the law.

One bright-faced young man, with a wooden leg, was arrested for the second time for stealing old iron and junk. I saw him next day, a prisoner, at the workhouse, making shoes, and heard his sister, a sweet-faced young woman, as she appeared before the committee on paroles, pleading that her brother might be paroled. With her bright blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and a pink scarf thrown over her head she leaned eagerly forward in her chair to tell her story, while the attention of the entire room was centered upon her.

"My father is the little crippled fellow, that picks up papers in the market; you know him," she said. "He couldn't work to-day in the rain, so he stayed with mother, who is an invalid, while I could come here. Barnes went away in the afternoon and never

came back. Oh! he's his mother's only boy, you know," she pleaded. "When his wife heard at night that he had been arrested, she left her child, three years old, with a friend, and drank a two-ounce bottle of carbolic acid. She is dying at the hospital now. Oh, won't you parole him?"

Her sweet face and honest story won her request, and she was promised that the committee would recommend to the Pardon Board that Barnes would be paroled. "Oh, will you? Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, and hurried away.

Throughout a long, rainy afternoon I sat and listened to these pitiful stories and could but think, "What can we expect of children, with the example of such fathers?" And I said, the children of these men are blameless. And I thought of the children of other men who are arrested, but are able to pay their fines, and then of men still standing higher in the social scale, yet many of whom are weak and lacking in the control that would make them manly men and true fathers, and I could not but pity the children. From these men my mind went to the many men whom we all know and admire, real manly men, with high ideals and true purposes in life, and I rejoice that we have so many of these as we have. Yet even among these enlightened fathers there are many who sadly neglect their boys. It is gratifying though, to note that a cry is ascending from all directions urging the fathers of the nation to take up their longneglected duty in instructing their boys on the subjects that make for truer manhood and better fatherhood.

A short time ago my husband visited the State Penitentiary at Jefferson City. Among other parts of the prison visited was the row of cells devoted to solitary confinement, the severest form of punishment inflicted upon the prisoners. "Here,” said one of the guards, "is a fellow from your town," pointing to a cell in which could be seen lying upon the floor a tall, slender boy, a mere lad. "What is he here for," asked my husband; "that is, what is he in solitary for?"

"Oh, he doesn't want to work, and pleads sickness." "What does the doctor say?"

"Nothing wrong that need hinder his working. So we'll just keep him here till he is willing to work."

One of the men in the line in the police court that morning was this boy's father, up before the judge on the charge of nonsupport for the family. The evidence showed that he had shamefully, yes shamelessly, neglected his children, most of them girls who were clinging to the little mother; but the boy, with a boyish spirit of independence, had not clung to the mother closely enough; he had, perhaps, in a spirit of adventure, gone away from home, and lacking the balance or safety of a father's counsel and wholesome example, had gone wrong, and was now in a felon's cell, not so much because of natural depravity of man as because he was sinned against by having been denied a father's proper influence when he needed it most. What could you expect from the son of a man who thought so little of his boy that he would desert his mother, and spend his means in profligacy with another, a spectacle over which

even the brutes cast a mantle of shame because of a better example. Many of our prominent public workers in juvenile and other courts in the cities go so far as to say that unless the men, not alone of the slums, but the men of all classes, awaken immediately to the necessity for making their example and their teachings count for righteousness, the coming generation instead of being one of which we will be proud will be a race from which the whole world will flee as from a plague.

At first this statement may seem exaggerated, but it is not always the mother in the home nor the father at his work who senses the true condition of the children. Teachers of schools and Sunday schools, active workers among the children, are too often painfully aware of conditions of which many parents are pitifully ignorant.

Only a few days ago I overheard a conversation between two intelligent traveling men who happened to sit near me in a street car. One was going to Texas and the other to Saint Louis. They were emphatically discussing the objectionable style of the souvenir postal card, certain moving picture shows, and some of the attractions offered in the way of the theater.

"I tell you," said one earnestly, "it's got to be stopped. These things won't hurt us any more. We've got past it, but they're going to ruin, absolutely ruin the boys and girls."

And the other heartily acquiesced in his opinion. I wanted to ask the question, "And so they won't hurt you any more, but they will ruin your boys?"

Mrs. Russell Hirshman, of New York, who has spent many years in the study of children, unhesitatingly blames the fathers for the low moral standard found among the boys and young men of to-day. The indications are that the time is not far distant when the public schools will all have classes in morals where boys will be instructed in the duties pertaining to fatherhood and girls in those of motherhood. So great is the need for such teaching that public workers everywhere are recognizing and indorsing the scheme. We can not afford to wait for others to distance us in this work in much needed instruction. Some of our fathers are already active in this regard, but very many are careless and negligent. Wise instruction is necessary on the part of the father, and happy indeed is he whose example can be held as a stimulus to his boys. Did not the poet touch a vital and far-sounding chord when he wrote:

"I called the boy to my knee one day,
And I said, 'You're just past four:

Will you laugh in that same light-hearted way
When you're turned, say, thirty more?'

Then I thought of a past I'd fain erase

More clouded skies than blue

And I anxiously peered in his upturned face
For it seemed to say:

'Did you?'

"I touched my lips to his tiny own

And I said to the boy. 'Heigh, ho!

Those lips are as sweet as the hay new-mown,
Will you keep them always so?"