and looked like balls of cotton. We were delighted, and Venus was a very proud mother.

When the puppies had grown old enough to run and play we began to look up good homes for them. We succeeded in finding homes for four, but there were two more to be provided for, and we didn't know what to do, as we had one other dog besides Venus and any more would be too many.

One evening, when the family were studying the best way to get rid of the little dogs, some one thoughtlessly remarked, before Venus, that the next day he would drown the puppies-for that would be kinder than to give them to people who might abuse them.

The following morning Venus and her family were missing. We looked everywhere, as we thought, and called and whistled. But Venus did not come. I saw tears in my brother's eyes, and I felt a lump growing in my throat, and altogether we were feeling sorry enough.

After a while some one made a discovery. Right under the driveway into our stable there was a newly-made hoie. The woodwork had been torn away in small pieces, making a hole large enough for Venus to pass through and take her puppies. By lying down on the ground we could see something glisten. It was Venus's eyes blazing like two balls of fire. We called and coaxed, but it was useless. Venus wouldn't move.

So it was decided that the stableman should take up a portion of the carriage-house floor. This was done; but Venus wouldn't come out. We reached down and patted her-but she had lost confidence in us. We were very much troubled, particularly after we realized that she plainly understood the remark about drowning her puppies.

Venus was taken out of hiding and restored to her old quarters, but it was several days before she seemed comfortable and natural. Finally we found homes for the two puppies that were the cause of so much sadness-for we all did feel sad, but none more so than dear old Venus. How many times, think you, are we responsible for the grief of animals? Let us try to relieve their distresses and to be patient with them, rather than careless of their comfort and impatient.

Be kind to all living creatures. Keep your eyes and your ears open. In other words, do not be blind to what you see nor deaf to what you hear.

MARIE LOUISE COUSE.

THE FOLLY OF WORRY.

[This, children, is for your big brothers and sisters to read, and after they have read it I am sure they will explain it to you so that you will understand it and learn a valuable lesson.-F. P. P.]

Why should we really worry? Has worrying ever benefited any one? On the contrary, instead of helping us it harms us, as it takes away from our mental faculties their natural powers of reasoning, and if we did not unbalance our minds by a previous state of worrying we would be far more capable of guarding against a threatening misfortune, and so perhaps prevent it.

We frequently hear people say that every one must worry; that it is human nature to do so. Humanity has more or less tried to make it a part of itself, but it was not so intended. Seen in its true light there is no experience in life over which one has a right to worry. Ruskin says: "God gives us always strength enough and sense enough for everything that he wants us to do." So we are never tried beyond our powers of endurance. If we could only always realize that, how much happier we would be, as well as those with whom we come in contact; for, if we are of a worrying disposition there is a depressing atmosphere around us, and people of a sensitive nature are affected by it. While if, on the contrary, we are happy and light-hearted, making so far as we can the best of everything, we are sure to influence others, and by helping others we help ourselves.

Now, when there is something in our mind that is troubling us, no matter how great or small it may be, why not analyze it at first, and make sure that it really is something requiring thought? A great part of the time we worry over imaginary misfortunes. Then if we find that the thing we are troubling about really does not need to be worried over, instead of fretting, and thereby wasting our energy and mental forces, we may employ those same forces in finding a way out of the difficulty.

Self-reliance is what a great many of us lack; we do not place sufficient trust in our own ability, and look outside of ourselves for help.

Doubt and fear produce worry. If we only stop to think we will realize how often we use the phrase, "I am afraid," even in ordinary conversation when there is no cause for fear. That alone is suggestive of worry. Why should we fear anything or worry about anything? "Consider the lilies how they grow," taking whatever comes to them-sunshine or rain-without worry or anxiety. With sunshine alone they would soon wither. God cares for them, and it is the same God that cares for us.

Worrying is caused by reaching with our minds into the future. If we would live more in the to-day and make the most of our present advantages, we would find that the things we imagined of great magnitude and consequence would gradually diminish, as time goes on, and later we would look back and see how foolish we had been even to think about it; and, besides, by looking forward to to-morrow we lose the chances and possibilities of to-day.

So let us all make a resolution that we will not worry any more about anything. Somebody has said that "the most reckless spendthrift in the world is the one that squanders time." Money lost may be regained, friendships broken may be renewed, houses and lands that are burnt or sold may be built or bought again. But what power can restore the moment that has passed, the day whose sun has set, or the year that has been numbered with the ages gone? And can we imagine a more thorough method of wasting time than by useless worry?

Now, I am sure that if we keep to this resolution firmly we will not only feel happier ourselves and make others happy, but we will strengthen our will-power to such an extent that, should some emergency during life require a great deal of bravery, we would be able to meet it as true men and women.

LUTA DE PALKOWSKA.

HUMAN beings owe a debt of love to one another, because there is no other method of paying the debt of love and care which all of us owe to Providence.-John Ruskin.

THE BIRD'S NEST.

(Sequel to "Dorothy's Guests.")

A few months ago we read in MIND about "Dorothy's Guests" -how she fed them, the dear little birds, up on the porch roof beneath her window. These little "denizens of the air" have a deal of sense, which is proved in their selection of sites for their nests, or homes.

Two little birds that I'm going to tell you about seemed to be unusually clever in this respect; for they seemed to say to each other: "A very kind little girl lives in this house, and therefore it's an excellent place to hide our nest." So what did they do but build it on the window-sill between the blind and the window of a spare bed-room, next to Dorothy's room!

Dorothy saw what they were doing, so she threw out bits of string, cottonwool, and shredded rags-the latter was from one of her little handkerchiefs, a very soft piece of linen that The birds actually picked up her offerings, taking them to line their nest of twigs and grasses.

was torn.

One day Dorothy peeped under the curtain-it wasn't quite down-and she saw three of the cunningest little birds. They weren't pretty, for their heads were so big; and their mouthsoh my! how very wide they opened every time the papa or mama bird brought a worm for them!

It was great fun to watch them learn to fly. A limb of a tree nearly touched the window, and they would alight upon it. Dorothy missed them when they flew away for good; but she says she is sure that one of them will come there again next summer to build its nest. And I wouldn't be surprised if the wise little bird found a mate and brought it right there-would you? FANNY L. FANCHER.

IS THY friend angry with thee? Then provide him an opportunity of showing thee a great favor. Over that his heart must needs melt, and he will love thee again.-Richter.

LET nothing come between you and the light.-Thoreau.

HEALTH AND A DAY. By Lewis G. Janes, M.A. 185 pp. Cloth, gilt top, $1.00. James H. West Co., publishers, Boston, Mass.

The charming literary style of this new work will commend it to the attention of many conservative minds who might otherwise be repelled by its departure from conventional standards. Its fourteen chapters consist of common-sense talks that spring from the insistent logic of experience rather than the cut-anddried teaching of the schools. Its key-note is Emerson's familiar saying: "Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of emperors ridiculous." Dr. Janes believes that life is worth living to the fulness of its widest possibilities, and the best methods of attaining health, happiness, and success in the "struggle for existence" it is the mission of this book to suggest. It is not a work on Mental Science, in the technical sense; but it is rational, instructive, and helpfully suggestive along the lines of right living and spiritual evolution. It is replete with valuable facts, and philosophic in the highest significance of that term. Every reader should derive benefit from every chapter, for the subjects are of equal importance in the individual life and present problems for solution that are most skilfully handled by the author.

THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF HUMANISM. By Henry Wood. 319 pp. Cloth, $1.25; paper, 50 cents. Lee and Shepard, publishers, Boston, Mass.

This is not, strictly speaking, a "new" book, though it lacks no element of freshness or of contemporaneous human interest. It is a revision of "The Political Economy of Natural Law,” which passed through four editions, and to which Mr. Wood has added several new chapters. In the scholarly hands of this author, politics is no "dismal science;" economics and sociology are "dry" studies only to selfish minds, and the principles of government are seen to have an ethical foundation that evolves with the evolution of the race. Henry Wood is a profound student of human nature, affairs, and events, in all of which he detects the operation of universal Law. His conclusions, therefore, are scientifically tenable, even when applied to idealism—the goal of all his writings. He would dissipate the sordid commercialism that