Vermont and trained in her schools and churches. Conceive what this means. A thousand boys on the farms of Vermont, at different times, and moved by some silent, resistless influence, have chosen to break away from their homes to spend ten years in academy, college, and seminary, that they might give the balance of their lives to the most arduous, self-sacrificing, yet most rewarding profession of the ministry.

The writer has been restricted to a limited space, but he can not conceive of a more sacred use of space than to inscribe the names of a few of these Vermont boys. These names, picked at random, might be doubled and trebled, and still be recognized as those of master builders of the Kingdom. Out of the little hamlet of Calais came Nathaniel G. Clark, Foreign Secretary of the American Board; Israel E. Dwinell, of California, and Constans L. Goodell, of St. Louis. Out of Charlotte came James L. Barton, successor of Dr. Clark as Foreign Secretary. From other towns came Hiram Bingham of missionary fame; Charles M. Mead, the scholar and one of the Bible revisers; John W. Churchill, Andover professor; Daniel Bliss, Elnathan E. Strong, Austin and Allan Hazen, George B. Spaulding, Frank L. Goodspeed, Lewis Grout, Amos Blanchard, George N. Boardman, Simeon Gilbert, Edward P. Hooker, Miron Winslow, Hubbard Winslow, John Todd, George Leon Walker, Henry Fairbanks, Zachary Eddy, Albert J. Lyman, Ozora S. Davis, Lyman Gilbert, Lyman Bartlett, August Wilder, Edwin E. Bliss, Moses P. Parmelee, the Leitch sisters, Lyman Peet, Harvey Newcomb, William B. Forbush, Stephen Peet, George H. Ide, Edward T. Fairbanks, Henry B. Hooker, H. M. Tenney, Edward L. Smith, Daniel Merriman, E. H. Byington, T. M. Post, Calvin Cutler, Austin L. Park, William Crawford, Samuel H. Emery.

Surely the Vermont fruit tree must

have struck its roots into a generous soil to produce such a roll of master builders. The very atmosphere in which it flowered and fruited must have been stimulating to a high degree and fairly surcharged with ministerial ozone.

The debt of the state and the nation to Home Missions is a long story, too long to be told here, but it may be briefly illustrated. When the Louisiana lottery was driven out of the South, it turned toward the young virgin state of North Dakota. A bill favorable to its admission was passing through its stages at the state capitol, when the churches of the state, every one of them a home missionary church, rose church, rose en masse to protest. Delegates in great numbers were sent to Bismark to urge the protest. Their pressure alone was a restraint upon the legislators. They dared not press the bill to its passage. The Louisiana lottery was sent flying out of Dakota and never stopped until it reached Central America.

The first gun fired upon Fort Sumter had hardly ceased to echo before. every home missionary church in the Mississippi Valley and beyond seemed to spring to arms. Every pulpit flamed with patriotic fire;

churches and Bible schools were decimated by enlistments. A careful inquiry near the close of the war revealed the fact that one in every four of their male members entered the army, and the other three were old men, invalids, and boys. Not too often can the words of Dr. Storrs, of Brooklyn, be repeated, when from his pulpit to his congregation he declared with solemn emphasis, "Home Missions have saved the country once, and will save it again, if necessary."

It has been often remarked that intelligent foreigners while on a visit to the United States will sometimes discover certain American values which our own people, through long familiarity with their significance, have almost forgotten. A few years ago one such visitor

the year around? Why should not our hearts and interests widen to every one who has shared our gift, and it be an entering wedge only to a greater opportunity, a wider field of Christian service? The missionary box gives much material aid, comfort, and encouragement to the needy family and school, and, best of all, it gives the assurance of kindly thought of the Brotherhood. The missionary receives an impetus to go on serving Christ in the way he has chosen, though the cry of his children had at times made him feel that his choice had not been a wise one. In the early zeal for Christ and man, he gave little thought to family responsibilities that might be his and which came with later days. Unfavorable environments and inadequate means made it hard to overcome personal trials and to go forward along the road of service for the Master with cheerful heart and steady faith. So what a boon. to him is the materialized thought of fellow Christians as represented by the missionary box! But might not the donors of it give greater encouragement by adding "helps along the way" to the pastoral work that the missionary endeavors to a, especially in what he tries to do for his own children, who are, or should be, examples in the community, and those of families in his parish.

Every child has the right to follow his instinct for healthful play, to re

ceive an education which will make him a self-supporting, useful member of society, to have such moral and spiritual training as will develop the highest type of character of which he is capable. How can this be obtained in the border town in its newness, the rural district of the sparsely settled country, unless the missionary helps? Even the best disposed parents, who desire only good for their children, but who are obliged to work hard for food, shelter, and clothing, feel helpless to do more. Here is the opportunity of the strong church.

"The foundation of every state is the education of its youth." Ye fathers in the church, in helping along our children and young people, you are giving "first aid" to your country. Ye mothers in the church, can not your love for children extend beyond your own flock to those who need as do your own, but whose circumstances are sadly different? "The child of to-day is the man of to-morrow." What any of us may do for these little ones to (ducate them physically, morally, and spiritually is to bring nearer the Kingdom of God on earth. Surely sch a venture in humanity is an investment that is worth more than blocks of real estate or shares in a mine, and tends toward storing away the "treasure in heaven" which is something to have and to hold.

M

often see a black bear sitting on his haunches munching the raspberries, too content to worry the little folks; but sometimes the screech of a wild cat or a lynx would give them cold shivers. Often they had to pass through swamps to reach the schoolhouse.

The minister at this place was a rare man. He had begun his work

in Canada some years before. Here he had found himself in a new country. Many of the settlers did not know how to chop up the trees properly. They would stand on the ground and chop the logs. So this man, who was used to the backwoods, taught them how to stand on the log and make the chips fly. After awhile this minister found the good that comes from helping others, and soon his church was full. I took dinner with him, and he told me he was soon to be my next-door neighbor, that is, he was going to be the next minister to me, but that next door was seventy miles away.

In those days letters were few and far between. Sometimes one settler would say to another that he had seen a letter for him at another man's house, and the person so informed would say, "Thanks, I will remember it when I go that way.' The letter informing me of my "next-door" neighbor's visit did not reach me in time to meet him at the station. But one evening as my wife was drawing down the curtains, she exclaimed in surprise, "There is a man and a woman and a lot of children coming this way." "Oh," I said, "that's Curry as sure as you live." I went out to meet them, and found that the little boy was not well and was being carried pick-aback. When I inquired about his health, he said, "I am in a peck of trouble. The railway company will not take the cow to-night, and I must leave her with you." "All right," I said, "I will tie her to this stump and keep her a week, if you like. Milk is ten cents a quart.' "No," he replied, "I must have her to-morrow because of the baby." He left me on the ten o'clock train, and arrived at the new place in the middle of the night.

I went to see him in his new home as soon as I could do so, and when I reached the place I asked a man if he knew the minister, "Oh, yes," he said, "he stayed with us the first night he was here. There is his

house." As I drew near, I heard some one pounding away at some boards and found that it was Mr. Curry. "Hello," I said, "how are you Curry?" He said that he was delighted to see me, and told me he was making a kitchen for Mrs. Curry's cook stove, as she was tired of cooking where the rain came down on her stove and made it rusty. I inquired why he did not make his kitchen larger, and he told me that it was large as he could afford. Lumber was very dear, and they had been obliged to fix up the cow shed with the organ case. I went into the house and received a cordial welcome, but I was surprised to find that there were no rooms. The stove pipe went out of a window, with two tin pie plates to keep the sash from burning.

After supper and some singing, Mr. Curry said, "You must be tired, brother," and filling his mouth with forks, he pulled some quilts out of a missionary box and began to stick the forks through them into the studding. He turned to me and remarked, "There is a spare room for you." It was a bitterly cold night, and the snow was two feet deep. I slept with my great German socks on, and when I awoke I found that my whiskers and my mustache were frozen together. The children laughed as I stood over the stove. and broke off the icicles before I could speak. I found a tenpenny nail and scratched some ducks and geese on the frozen panes of my window, and it was two months before they thawed off.

After breakfast I asked to see the upper room. I found that the snow had drifted in and that the baby had a bad cough. I asked what time the next train went south. Mr. Curry was greatly surprised and asked if I was not going to preach for him the next day. "Yes," I said, "about one hundred and fifty miles from. here." I started for Manistee on the next train. It was night when I reached the city, but I could not