words, that the most important thing in the world for a woman was to exploit the latest cry in fashion.

It is also the women who have never been taught any self-control who give way to their emotions and follow their fancies, who make the wives who furnish grist to the divorce mill.

It is a terrible thing to think that your son may be a murderer, because you did not teach him to control his temper; that he may be a drunkard because you did not teach him, when a child, not to overeat; that he may be a thief because you did not teach him to do without the things he craved; that he may be a failure because you did not teach him perseverance, or that your daughter may be one of those whose names are never mentioned in their homes because you failed to inculcate in her the right ideals.

But, hard as these things are to think of, it is better to think of them now when your children are little, and when you can yet save them, than it is after the iron doors of the prison clang upon them. Remember what Warden Flynn said: "The prisons are full of those who wouldn't have been there if they had been brought up in the right way."-Dorothy Dix in Boston American.

The Destructive Child.

Grandmother raises her hands in horror over the destructiveness of the present day child. She tells of the few carefully kept treasures of her own childhood, and contrasts with this small Dorothy's score of dolls and wee Donald's dozens of engines and wagons. And whereas grandmother very likely still has her childish playthings, Dorothy and Donald haven't a thing but disreputable wrecks. The average American child of to-day is destructive. There must be a cause for it and also a cure.

That the destructive child is likely to become a great nuisance every mother will admit. From breaking his own things he takes to breaking other people's. Did you ever breathe a half resigned, half rebellious sigh when you received the announcement that cousin Flora and her four children were coming to stay a week with you. You had visions of Ted laying your best cushions along the floor to walk on, of Jamie working havoc in your flower garden, of Dora tearing your books, and of the baby demanding the best treasure of the house for playthings. And with it all, poor Flora hasn't very good control over her family, and is quite sensitive if she fancies you find the children annoying. You know that you are in for a week of nerve racking unrest, and you frankly wish that Flora could leave her children at home when she comes to visit you.

One of the causes of the destructive spirit is that children have too much. When one toy is broken the fond parent hurries to get another in its place. The child soon comprehends that things come easily and he makes no effort to care for them. This cause can be removed easily. Buy fewer and stronger playthings and have it definitely understood that they will not be replaced in a certain

time. If they are destroyed let the child do without. He may tell you with tears that all his little friends have a certain article, but do not on this account in mistaken fondness rush to replace his destroyed plaything. If you do you are fostering a serious weakness in your child's character. This restricting the supply of playthings will work a reform with the most careless child. One mother whose children are inclined to be destructive says that when they particularly desire some new possession, she tells them they must first take care of some less prized thing to show that they can be trusted with a new gift. Thus when the little girl longed for a large doll she was told that she must first keep her smaller dolls from one Christmas to another to show that she could take care of such a fine one.

Another cause of destructiveness is the lack of training when the baby first begins to get around. The mother carries things out of his way or sighs over what he spoils or if she is hasty, slaps his fingers when he does some particularly trying thing, but it apparently does not enter her head to teach him that there are things which he must not touch. Yet it is quite simple to teach a year old baby just that. When he approaches the books he must not touch, take him away. If he goes back a hundred times in the day, lead him away that many times, always gently, never with any suggestion of irritation in your manner. At length he will learn that he must not touch, and the second lesson will be much easier. It requires ceaseless watchfulness at first, for if the baby finds that he can get the coveted thing. just once all the teaching must begin over again. It takes time, but it certainly saves time, money, and patience in the end. I do not think it well to have the room in which the baby spends most of his time filled with things. that are a constant temptation to him, but on the other hand I would not remove every pretty thing because of baby's presence, and thus give him no training in self-control. You may be certain that a child allowed to destroy things in babyhood will not grow better, but will show an increasing disregard for his own and other people's possessions.

A money allowance which must cover certain things is an excellent check on children past infancy. If they destroy their possessions they must replace them or go without. If they destroy something belonging to some one else they must always replace it, no matter what cherished plan of their own suffers. A few lessons of this kind will teach the child to assume a certain responsibility such as he would never have gained had his parents continued to be the source of endless supply.-Zelia Margaret Walters in American Motherhood.

What is Home Without a Dad?
What is home without a mother? Asks the motto on the wall,
And we answer all in concord, "It would be no home at all."
But I'll put another poser-if an answer can be had,
Home's not home without a mother; would it be without a dad?
Home's not home without a mother; would it be without a dad?

All us children run to mother when we're sorrowful or sad,
And she ties up our cut fingers; just to see her makes us glad;
But if we need new clothing, or mayhap a pair of shoes,
It is then we think of daddy and find him of certain use.
And when some of us get flighty, or we boys get going wrong,
Our mother, she grows sadder, half forgetting all Life's song;

Then our dad comes to the foremost, with his strong, good common sense,
And our waywardnesses vanish, for our dad's a strong defense.
Mother's smile fills our horizon and her gentleness our hearts,
Just to see her makes us happy and she eases all our smarts,
But when Fate with wildest billows overwhelms us nigh to wreck,
Then our dad he takes the rudder and he takes Fate by the neck.
Home's no home without a mother; is it one without a dad?
Sort o' think we need both of 'em just to make us really glad;
And they think they need us children; guess we all do have a place,
But I'm sure that dad and mother run a pretty even_race.

-Rose Seelye Miller.

One Result of Thoughtlessness.

It was an ideal afternoon for mothers to remain indoors and occupy themselves as best suited them, regardless of callers. It was an ideal afternoon, too, for boys, for they never gave a thought to the drizzling rain and slush, so engaged were they in the Saturday's sport of making snow houses and forts.

When the fun was at its height, however, two of the latter, "just big enough to be in the way," as the older boys said, became weary of the rough sport. As one child was always sure of a warm greeting at home, he began to wish himself there, and exclaimed gleefully, "Say, Jamie, I'm going to make a big, hard snowball and carry it home to my mamma.'

The boy addressed was usually ready to act upon any suggestion made by the one who was a few months his senior, but this time he shook his curly head, as he rejoined:

"I can't, 'cause mamma wouldn't let me carry it in the house. I just know she wouldn't."

"Oh, but mine would. I know she would!" said Freddie stoutly. "She likes me to have fun. Let's make 'em anyhow."

So a few minutes later two little men might have been seen staggering under the weight of the snowballs they carried to their homes.

The mother of Freddie hailed his coming with delight, for she realized that he ran more risk in remaining out on such a day than when it was stinging cold; so she smilingly opened the door, saying, "Why, where is that big ball carrying my boy?"

"I'm bringing it for us to play with, mamma," was the gleeful answer. "I made it all myself.'

Now Mrs. Roberts is a model housekeeper as well as mother, and the idea of admitting that ball with her "baby" did not strike her pleasantly. But love always finds a way and so she said cheerily, "Carry it around to the rear door and then I will make a place for your droll plaything."

It hindered the mother but a few minutes to carry to the kitchen a bathtub, in which the ball was placed, as well as a large shallow tub for the purpose of making it possible to form miniature forts without deluging the floor; but she had her reward in soon seeing Freddie happy with a new "in-door." True, after a time, child like, the little fellow grew tired of playing alone, and then the mother left her sewing and played "just like a girl," as her happy child said, until the shadows began to fall, and the danger of Freddie's longing to go out again was past.

But to be thus hindered and to be obliged to wipe up the floor and put things to rights did not count with this tactful mother so long as her child was well and happy.

Poor Jamie, however, found his mother in the most interesting part of a new novel, and so his fears were fully realized, for when Mrs. Frost heard her child cry,

“Come, mamma, and see what I've brought," several times over, she aroused herself enough to go to the door and exclaim, "You naughty boy! Throw that away this minute."

"But Freddie took one home to play with, mamma, an' won't you please let me bring it in," said the little fellow pleadingly.

"I don't care what Freddie did," was the impatient answer of the mother, who was but thoughtless, as well, perhaps, as somewhat selfish. "I won't be bothered with the muss that great ball would make."

"Then I'll go back and play with the big boys," said Jamie, with a look that would have touched his mother's heart if he had not been so absorbed with her story, at the same time throwing aside the ball which had so wearied the little arms.

Mrs. Frost was not a heartless mother, but far from it, for she dearly loved her one treasure. She was lacking in forethought and tact at the time made mention of-(for this is a story lived but one short year ago) or rather so intent upon "brain-children" as to overlook the fact that Jamie had been croupy the night before and that he, of all boys, should not have been out on such a day. It was but another case of "I didn't think," with sad results. For when it had grown so dark that the reader had been forced to make a light she was aroused to a sense of her blindness when she heard a croupy cough, followed by the entrance of a boy who was as tired as he was wet. The book was then carelessly thrown aside, while the frightened mother did all in her power to make amends for her neglect of duty.

But "too late" were the doctor's words when summoned, and a little later that mother would have given worlds, had it been in her power, to have been able to recall her darling, with his sweet,

pleading face, as he held the great snowball, and her neglected opportunity to make him happy at home.

And now all that remains to this mother is a sweet memory, accompanied by cruel, nagging thoughts, and the little mound on the hillside.-Helena H. Thomas.

Elbert A. Smith, Editor, Lamoni, Iowa.
Estella Wight, Assistant Editor.

The Ammonite Youths.

[NOTE.-South America was populated, at the time of our story (about 65 B. C.) by two very different classes of people; the Nephites, who worshiped God and were fair of skin, and the Lamanites, who had been cursed with a red skin because of their wickedness and abominations.

The Nephites lived in the northern part of the continent and were ruled by chief judges, Pahoran occupying the judgment seat at this time. The Lamanites inhabited the land southward, under the leadership of King Ammaron. Our story deals with the attacks of the Lamanites upon the Nephites, the latter being compelled to defend their religion, homes, and loved ones or become the slaves of their enemies.

Moroni had full charge of all armies of the Nephites, but in the time of our story was personally conducting the campaign in the North, while Antipas with his army was left to defend the borders of the land in the South.

After the death of Antipas, Helaman took charge of the southern armies, as is shown later.]

The sun had set and the dusk was rapidly changing to darkness when Benjamin, an Ammonite good and true, reached the house after his hard day's labor in the field. With him came his three sons, Ammon, Joseph, and Sam, goodly lads of nineteen, fifteen, and twelve years respectively, all tired, but happy in the thought of doing good; for were they not laboring that the armies of Moroni in the north and of Antipas in the south might have provisions and arms to fight the invading Lamanities?

After partaking of the food that good wife Ruth had prepared, they strolled outside, each intent upon his own thoughts, and seating themselves upon a pile of logs near by, watched the moon as it modestly appeared in sight, and wondered what their brethren, the Nephites, were doing on this beautiful night.