A magnate and his money are different propositions to the missionary
societies.

Willie's Easter.

When Easter Sunday comes along
I hunt and hunt so hard,
And find a nest of rabbit eggs
Out yonder in the yard;
They're red and yellow, blue and green,
All colored every way,
And when the rabbits lay their eggs
I know it's Easter day.

My Mamma cooks a lot of eggs
For little Bud and me,
And says for us to eat ourselves
As full as we can be;
And then we go to dress ourselves,
And find in every shoe,
The rabbits left a pile of eggs
As Easter rabbits do.

And Mamma tells us of the Christ
Who came to earth and died,
And was so good in all he did
He soon got crucified;
But when they took him from the Cross
And buried him away,
He came to life and rose again
And started Easter day.

And Mamma has some lilies, too,
And glad flowers of the spring,
And tells us how the world wakes up,
And tells the birds to sing:
And I like Easter mighty well,
But what is best, I say,
Is when you find the rabbit eggs
And know it's Easter day!

Little Sermons.

Faith is a great heart-cleaner.

The godly man never worries over hell-fire.

Good intentions never make the dollars ring in the collection plate.

A man's meanness and woman's frailty make a pair that prayer can't beat
when they get together.

The Devil never attends the church of a scolding preacher. He knows that
his presence is unnecessary.

If you want a balance in your favor on God's books, see to it that there
is no balance against you on the books of men.

At the birth-hour of every soul, there overhangs a divine plan directing
its plans and purposes. That plan is holy and immaculate; it has neither
spot nor blemish; and as the soul walks out upon the highways of its
life, dim whispers and faint intuitions try to teach the road it ought
to travel to the stars. Happy the man who understands the story and
walks with unerring feet the divine lanes of life and light until the
shadows fall again!

The Blossom Ways.

With one true heart and a hand that stays,
This world rolls ever the blossom ways,
And there as it roams the sweet paths over,
The honey bees and the laughing clover!

And Love comes by with her lips of song,
To hush the cries and the calls of wrong,
Till life romps on