ow a successful merchant, a partner of Mr. Conway, and
occupies a high position in society, as an honorable, enterprising man.
But best of all, he is a Christian, and finds deep satisfaction and
happiness in the service of Him who has said:--

"Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honor the face of the old
man, and fear thy God."

[Illustration]

BERT'S THANKSGIVING

At noon on a dreary November day, a lonesome little fellow stood at the
door of a cheap eating house, in Boston, and offered a solitary copy of
a morning paper for sale to the people passing.

But there were really not many people passing, for it was Thanksgiving
day, and the shops were shut, and everybody who had a home to go to, and
a dinner to eat, seemed to have gone home to eat that dinner.

Bert Hampton, the newsboy, stood trying in vain to sell the last _Extra_
left on his hands by the dull business of the morning.

An old man, with a face that looked pinched, and who was dressed in a
seedy black coat, stopped at the same doorway, and, with one hand on the
latch, he appeared to hesitate between hunger and a sense of poverty,
before going in.

It was possible, however, that he was considering whether he could
afford himself the indulgence of a morning paper, seeing it was
Thanksgiving day; so at least Bert thought, and addressed him
accordingly:--

"Buy a paper, sir? All about the fire in East Boston, and arrest of
safe-burglars in Springfield. Only two cents."

The little old man looked at the boy, with keen gray eyes which seemed
to light up the pinched look of his face, and answered in a shrill
voice:--

"You ought to come down in your price, this time of day. You can't
expect to sell a morning paper at 12 o'clock for full price."

"Well, give me a cent, then," said Bert. "That's less than cost; but
never mind. I'm bound to sell out, anyhow."

[Illustration: "_Buy a paper, sir_?"]

"You look cold," said the old man.

"Cold," replied Bert, "I'm nearly froze. And I want my dinner. And I'm
going to have a big dinner, too, seeing it's Thanksgiving day."

"Ah! lucky for you, my boy!" said the old man. "You've a home to go to,
and friends, too I hope."

"No, sir; no home, and no friend--only my mother." Bert hesitated and
grew serious, then suddenly changed his tone--"and Hop Houghton. I told
him to meet me here, and we'd have a first-rate Thanksgiving dinner
together, for it's no fun to be eating alone Thanksgiving