The tears stood in Mike's eyes as he spoke the words.

"All the trouble comes from the whisky. Why not give it up?"

"By the help of God I will!" said Mike, grasping my hand with energy.

And he did. I confess that the result of my visit exceeded my hopes.
Mike kept away from the saloons, worked steadily, little Mary had no
lack of new shoes and neat frocks, and the Kinneth family were happy in
a humble way. Mike always seemed glad to see me, and greeted me warmly.

One morning about the last of November there was a knock at the door of
the little parsonage. Opening the door, there stood Mrs. Kinneth with a
turkey under her arm.

"Christmas will soon be coming, and I've brought ye a turkey for your
kindness to little Mary and your good talk to Mike. He has not touched a
dhrop since the blissed day ye spake to him. Will ye take the turkey,
and my thanks wid it?"

The turkey was politely and smilingly accepted, and Mrs. Kinneth went
away looking mightily pleased.

I extemporized a little coop for our turkey. Having but little
mechanical ingenuity, it was a difficult job, but it resulted more
satisfactorily than did my attempt to make a door for the miniature
kitchen attached to the parsonage. My object was to nail some
cross-pieces on some plain boards, hang it on hinges, and fasten it on
the inside by a leather strap attached to a nail. The model in my mind