surprise to
see him again among them, although not the brother of that happy,
sunny day of long ago. He told them sadly of the result of his long toil,
while they related to him the good results of their few golden pebbles,
which they brought home, and with which their father had purchased
land, which was now yielding them rich returns, aside from the health
and pleasure which they derived from its culture, the labor of which they
performed with their own hands. "Health, wealth, and happiness combined,"
he murmured sadly, as he felt keenly that his youth and opportunities
had departed.

Are there not too many who seek for gold alone, forgetting the joys
which it purchases, and forgetting that its possession alone has no
value? Rightly acquired and used it alleviates and mediates, but gathered
and amassed for itself only it is but a mountain of shining ore,
valueless and unsatisfying to its possessor.

"Fool that I have been thus to waste my time and strength!" said the
long-absent son that night as his father bade him welcome.

"If wisdom is purchased by the experience, it matters not how great
the price," answered his parent.

"But I have lost my youth and my strength," responded the son.

"Which loss will be compensated by more thought and greater ability
to labor mentally," said his parent consolingly.

In after years the youth who had wasted his bodily strength became a
worker in words of cheer and hope to others, and hence he had not
wholly lived in vain. He learned to love the angel Truth so well that
she came to his side each day, and gave him sweet counsel and many
lessons for mankind.

But he had purchased the light at a cost which few can afford to give.

XXII.

THE SACRIFICE.

A large party of travelers on their way to a distant country were obliged
to pass through a dense forest to reach it. Their leader went forward,
and, seeing the darkness of the dense woods, was convinced of the
impossibility of his people going through it, without the aid of a
light to guide them. He sat beside the mossy stones at the entrance,
trying to devise some means by which to light up the darkness. There
seemed but one way, and that almost hopeless, as it involved a sacrifice
of life, and he knew too well the nature of the trees to expect any of
them to give themselves up for his travelers. How could he ask it, as he
stepped into the deep wood, and looked on their grand proportions and
rich foliage? His was