eyes, the miserable creature asked an alms. Quickly the author felt
for a copper. He turned his pockets inside out. He was without purse
or ring or any gift. Then the kind man took the beggar's hand in both
of his and said: "Do not be angry with me, brother, I have nothing with
me!" The gaunt face lighted up; the man lifted his bloodshot eyes; his
blue lips parted in a smile. "But you called me brother--that was a
great gift." Returning an hour later he found the smile he had kindled
still lingered on the beggar's face. His body had been cold; kindness
had made his heart warm. The good man was as a covert in time of
storm. History and experience exhibit now and then a man as unyielding
as rock in friendships. Years ago a gifted youth began his literary
career. Wealth, travel, friends, all good gifts were his. One day a
friend handed him a telegram containing news of his father's death.
Then the mother faded away. The youth was alone in the world. In that
hour evil companions gathered around him. They spoiled him of his
fresh innocency. They taught the delicate boy to listen to salacity
without blushing. Soon coarse quips and rude jests ceased to shock
him. He thought to "see life" by seeing the wrecks of manhood and
womanhood. But does one study architecture by visiting hovels and
squalid cabins? Is not studying architecture seeing the finest
mansions and galleries and cathedrals? So to see life is to see
manhood at its best and womanhood when carried up to culture and beauty.

Wasting his fortune this youth wasted also his friendships. One man
loved him for his father's sake. For several years every Saturday
night witnessed this man of oak and rock going from den to den looking
for his old friend's boy. One day he wrote the youth a letter telling
him, whether or not he found him, so long as he lived he would be
looking for him every Saturday night in hope of redeeming him again to
integrity. What nothing else could do love did. Kindness wrought its