e man is his enemy, and he is the most respected man in the mining
regions of the West.

ARTHUR J. BURDICK,
in _The Mystic Mid-Region._

DECEMBER 8.

To a little camp of 1848 a lad of sixteen came one day, footsore,
weary, hungry, and penniless. There were thirty robust and cheerful
miners at work in the ravine; and the lad sat on the bank, watching
them awhile in silence, his face telling the sad story of his
fortunes. At last one stalwart miner spoke to his fellows, saying:

"Boys, I'll work an hour for that chap if you will."

At the end of the hour a hundred dollars' worth of gold dust was laid
in the youth's handkerchief. The miners made out a list of tools and
necessaries.

"You go," they said, "and buy these, and come back. We'll have a good
claim staked out for you. Then you've got to paddle for yourself."
Thus genuine and unconventional was the hospitality of the
mining-camp.

CHARLES HOWARD SHINN,
in __Mining Camps._

DECEMBER 9.

Down in the gulch bottoms were the old placer diggings. Elaborate
little ditches for the deflection of water, long cradles for the
separation of gold, decayed rockers, and shining in the sun the tons
and tons of pay dirt which had been turned over pound by pound in the
concentrating of its treasure. Some of the old cabins still stood. It
was all deserted now, save for the few who kept trail for the
freighters, or who tilled the restricted bottom lands of the flats.
Road-runners racked away down the paths; squirrels scurried over
worn-out placers, jays screamed and chattered in and out of the
abandoned cabins. And the warm California sun embalmed it all in a
peaceful forgetfulness.

STEWART EDWARD WHITE,
in _The Mountains._

DECEMBER 10.

GOD IS EVERYWHERE.

Under the grass, the flowers, and the sod
Go deep enough and you will find God.
The royal red-gold of the sunset glow
A veil for His unseen face doth show.
And all the star-cool vastnesses of night
Still hide Him not from the Spirit's sight.

I will see Him in all, I will trust Him in all,
I will love but the God, to the God will I call.
Till God, full and perfect, every soul shall reveal,
And God's glorious purpose each life shall fulfill;
Till the earth showeth whole, without break, without seam,
Till God's truth and God's beauty stand clear and supreme.

MARY RUSSELL MILLS,
in _Fellowship Magazine._

DECEMBER 11.

THE KILLING OF THE DEVIL, AS TOLD IN