better work will be done, and that
an intelligent interest will be created in many branches of the Master's
work.

The Union adjourned to meet in Marion, one year hence.

* * * * *

FOR THE CHILDREN.

* * * * *

A LETTER FROM A TEACHER IN GEORGIA.

DEAR CHILDREN:

Would you not like to hear about some of the little black children in
our mission Sunday-school down here in the Southland? One of our
scholars, a certain ragged boy, was for many weeks among the missing. A
few Sundays later, one of the first arrivals was master James, but he
was so decently clad that I did not recognize him, and was obliged to
inquire his name. A blue jacket, much too large for him, and ornamented
with brass buttons, gave him a very distinguished air, but we soon
learned that clothes do not always make the man, for time has proven him
not as worthy as we thought. O, such a little scamp as he is! and yet so
full of good nature in his mischief, that it is not easy to scold him
for naughtiness. Living only across the lane, he runs in and out as much
as he pleases, and if one starts after him, he is often found just
outside on the step, peeping through a crack, and grinning at authority.
He is simply irrepressible, as a little incident will show you. One day,
as the Superintendent was speaking of the collection, a little boy said
he had no money. "_Aw!_ ye've got yer pocket _cram_ full," was the
comment of the boy with brass buttons. It was said for the benefit of
all present, and in no modest tone.

You have not heard, I believe, about the three little boys I call "my
babies." They are yet in dresses, and as cunning as can be, very regular
in attendance. Harry, Eddie, and--well I must tell you about the other
name. Down here, many nick-names are used, such as son, bubba, or boysa
for the boys, and sister or missy for the little girls. When this little
fellow was asked his name, he very bashfully said, "Son." "But you have
some other name?" If he knew any other, he was afraid to speak, so I
asked whether anyone present knew his name. A little girl called out "He
is Son Anderson _Baby_ Boy," and now I always use the four words when
speaking to or of him. We are very good friends, but he has doubted my
sincerity since one time when I ventured to examine a small brown pipe
held tightly in his hand. It proved to be chocolate candy, and as he did
not choose to risk his treas