Stories Worth Rereading. Various

A BOY WHO WAS WANTED

       WANTED: AN EMPLOYER

       HOW TO STOP SWEARING

       THE CAROLS OF BETHLEHEM CENTER

       STANDING BEAR'S SPEECH

       MABEL ASHTON'S DREAM

       A SAD BUT TRUE STORY

       "THE MAN THAT DIED FOR ME"

       OUR GRASS RUG AND—OTHER THINGS

PREFACE

       Table of Contents

      All persons like stories. Children call for them from their earliest years. The purpose of this book is to provide children and youth with stories worth reading; stories relating incidents of history, missionary effort, and home and school experiences. These stories will inspire, instruct, and entertain the readers. Nearly all of these have appeared in print before, and are reprinted in this form through the courteous permission of their writers and publishers.

      "Stories Worth Rereading" can be obtained only as a premium with the Youth's Instructor, a sixteen-page weekly, published by the Review and Herald Publishing Association, Takoma Park, Washington, D. C.

      THEIR WORD OF HONOR

      MURIEL'S BRIGHT IDEA

      THE STRENGTH OF CLINTON

      THE DOCTOR'S COW

      HONEY AT THE PHONE

      ONE OF FATHER'S STORIES

      WHAT RUM DOES

      MY MOTHER'S RING

      THE BRIDAL WINE-CUP

      A MOTHER'S SORROW

      THE REPRIMAND

      AN EXAMPLE

      FIGHTING THE GOOD FIGHT

      TIGHTENING THE SADDLE-GIRTH

      "HERRINGS FOR NOTHING"

      THE POWER OF SONG

      JACK'S FIDELITY

      HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER

      THE SLEIGH-RIDE

      SAMUEL SMILES, THE AUTHOR OF "SELF-HELP"

      DAVID LIVINGSTONE

      A TRUE INCIDENT OF THE SAN FRANCISCO EARTHQUAKE

      LITTLE CORNERS

      IN THE HOME

      GIANTS AND GRASSHOPPERS

      AS GOOD AS HIS BOND

      PLAIN BERNICE

      HOW THE BOY WITHOUT A REFERENCE FOUND ONE

      AN HOUR A DAY FOR A YEAR

      "PLEASE, SIR, I WOULD RATHER NOT"

      THE RIGHT WORD

      THE SADDEST OF INDIA'S PICTURES (1912)

      ONE LITTLE WIDOW

      WHY THE MITE BOXES WERE FULL

      TI-TO AND THE BOXERS

      HOW NYANGANDI SWAM TO CHURCH

      THE LITTLE PRINTER MISSIONARY

      THE MISSIONARY'S DEFENSE

      LIGHT AT LAST

      THE BROWN TOWEL

      ONLY A BOY

      THE LITTLE PROTECTOR

      MOFFAT AND AFRICANER

      TWO TRIFLES

      A SECOND TRIAL

      THE SIN OF EXTRAVAGANCE

      A LITTLE CHILD'S WORK

      THE HANDY BOX

      THE RESULT OF DISOBEDIENCE

      LIVINGSTONE'S BODY-GUARD

      SPARE MOMENTS

      A GOLD MEDAL

      A GIRL'S RAILWAY ACQUAINTANCE

      HAROLD'S FOOTMAN

      ELNATHAN'S GOLD

      ONLY A JACK-KNIFE

      A SPELLING-BEE

      JACK'S QUEER WAYS

      WHAT ONE BOY DID

      HOW NICK LEARNED MANNERS

      WITHOUT BALLAST

      INFLUENCE OF A GOOD BOOK

      "STRAIGHTENING OUT THE FURROWS"

      A BOY WHO WAS WANTED

      WANTED: AN EMPLOYER

      HOW TO STOP SWEARING

      THE CAROLS OF BETHLEHEM CENTER

      STANDING BEAR'S SPEECH

      MABEL ASHTON'S DREAM

      A SAD BUT TRUE STORY

      "THE MAN THAT DIED FOR ME"

      OUR GRASS RUG AND—OTHER THINGS

      THEIR WORD OF HONOR

       Table of Contents

      The president of the Great B. railway system laid down the letter he had just reread three times, and turned about in his chair with an expression of extreme annoyance.

      "I wish it were possible," he said, slowly, "to find one boy or man in a thousand who would receive instructions and carry them out to the letter without a single variation from the course laid down. Cornelius," he looked up sharply at his son, who sat at a desk close by, "I hope you are carrying out my ideas with regard to your sons. I have not seen much of them lately. The lad Cyrus seems to me a promising fellow, but I am not so sure of Cornelius. He appears to be acquiring a sense of his own importance as Cornelius Woodbridge, Third, which is not desirable, sir—not desirable. By the way, Cornelius, have you yet applied the Hezekiah Woodbridge test to your boys?"

      Cornelius Woodbridge, Junior, looked up from his work with a smile. "No, I have not, father," he said.

      "It's a family tradition; and if the proper care has been taken that the boys should not learn of it, it will be as much a test for them as it was for you and for me and for my father. You have not forgotten the day I gave it to you, Cornelius?"

      "That would be impossible," said his son, still smiling.

      The elder man's somewhat stern features relaxed, and he sat back in his chair with a chuckle. "Do it at once," he requested, "and make it a stiff one. You know their characteristics; give it to them hard. I feel pretty sure of Cyrus, but Cornelius—" He shook his head doubtfully, and returned to his letter. Suddenly he wheeled about again.

      "Do it Thursday, Cornelius," he said, in his peremptory way, "and whichever one of them stands it shall go with us on the tour