cribs; they piled in the rocks and braced the supports.

Work? I should think they did. From early morning until dark they
worked, hardly stopping long enough for meals. But it was truly _some_
dam when they got through. Then came the big moment for which they had
laboured and endured: they closed the small outlet protected by
several sections of terra-cotta pipe at the base--and let her fill!

Solomon went at building the temple pretty much the same way. The boys
who built the dam said they were going to make the best _boys'_ dam in
all that country around, and they did. Solomon said he was going to
put up the largest, the strongest, the finest, the best-looking
temple of all for God. He put one hundred and fifty thousand strong
men in the forests and in the quarries, getting out the finest timber
and the best stone; he had these materials brought by sea and by land;
he employed workers in brass, and stone-cutters and gold-beaters
wherever he could find the most skillful, regardless of the cost, and
he himself directed the work.

Well, it was a peach of a temple, too. Nothing like it had ever been
seen before. Crowning the highest hill in Jerusalem, overlooking all
the country around, its marble walls, its shining brass pillars, its
white chiselled columns, and its golden interior, it shone like a gem
of dazzling beauty. When Solomon had finished it, he invited the Lord
to come into it, and "the glory of the Lord filled the house."

Fellows, we are all building some kind of a temple, and we build some
on it every day. I saw a bleary-eyed dope fiend going along the street
the other day. He has built a temple--a temple to the god Appetite.
His temple is truly a sorry looking shack, but it is good enough for