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What may be round the next headland we know not; but this we know, that the same sunshine will make a broadening path across the waters right to where we rock on the unknown sea, and the same unmoving mighty star will burn for our guidance. So we may let the waves and currents roll as they list, or rather as He wills, and be little concerned about the incidents or the companions of our voyage, since He is with us.—

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See.

PRESENCE OF MIND

On New-year's eve at one of the largest restaurants in New York, a woman's dress caught fire, and, altho surrounded by other diners, the flame was not extinguished until she had received burns from which she subsequently died.

It seems incredible, yet it is a fact. And while the woman blazed, and shrieked in her agony, the men sought to extinguish the flame with napkins and their hands!

As I journey through life in town or in the wilderness, the quality I find most lacking in the human animal is presence of mind; and that is one of the good reasons why I am so persistent and outspoken an advocate of games for boys, especially games where the action is quick and where the boy must needs think, and quickly, under stress of combat, so to say.

Had there been any football players within reach of that poor woman, one of them would probably have had the sense to take off his coat and smother the flame.—, Collier's Weekly.

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PRESENCES, UNRECOGNIZED

In a German art gallery is a famous canvas entitled "Cloudland." To a casual glance it looks like a daub of confused color without form or beauty. But upon close examination it reveals a mass of exquisite little cherub faces—an innumerable multitude of angels. So Milton:

"Millions of spiritual creatures walk this earth Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep." (Text.)

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Present Alone is Ours—See.

Present, The—See ;.

PRESERVATION

It was one of the coldest days of winter. Benny came home from school, intending to brave the cold and go coasting till dark; but, when he found mama had a sick head-*ache, he said nothing about coasting, but volunteered to amuse four-year-old Lulu while mama lay down for a nap. That's the kind of a boy Benny was!

"Let's blow soap-bubbles," he said, taking Lulu into the kitchen, where he made a cup of beautiful soap-suds. Each had a pipe, and they blew bubbles for a long time. The sun shone in at the window, making them all the colors of the rainbow.

"Oh, I wish I could keep 'em!" sighed Lulu. "They are so pretty!"

An idea came into Benny's wise young head. He took a piece of an old, soft, woolen blanket, and carrying it out into the shed, spread it very smoothly on the floor in an out-of-the-way corner. Then, going back into the kitchen, he said:

"Now, Lulu, I'm going out into the shed to work a few minutes. It's too cold for you out there, but, if my plans work well, I'll wrap you up warm and take you out to see what I have done. You keep on blowing bubbles here."

"All right," said Lulu cheerfully.

Benny carried out part of the soap-suds, and as rapidly as possible blew about a dozen bubbles, floating them on to the soft blanket. The cold was so intense that they froze instantly before they could burst; and there they stood, looking like so many delicate glass balls.

When the blanket was well filled, Benny went in and, putting on Lulu's warm wraps, took her out to see the bubbles. How surprized she was!

"Can't I roll 'em round?" she asked.

"No indeed!" said Benny. "The least touch would break them all to smash!"

When mama got up with her headache relieved, she had to go out and see the bubbles, and so did papa when he came home.

The night was so cold, and the shed door and windows being closed, so that there was no draught of air, the bubbles were as good as ever in the morning. But before noon they began to crack open and dry away, and, when Benny came home at night, the weather was milder and each bright bubble had vanished, leaving only a bit of soap-suds in its place.

This is a true story, and some sharp day this winter you bright boys and girls can