In us is no perfect counsel for him nor any
help whatsoever that he may surely apprehend. In Thine acceptable wisdom
Thou settest Thy little ones in a world where presently only Thou canst
teach them: teach Thou then this little one. Thou alone knowest the
right path for a little boy's inquiring feet: lead then this little boy.
Thou alone art saving helper to an adventuring lad: help then this lad.
Thou alone art all-perceiving and persuasive, alone art Truth Teller to
a bewildered youth and Good Example in his wondering sight: be then Good
Example and Teller of Truth to this youth. Thou alone art in the
fashioning ways of Thine own world a Maker of Men: make then of this
little child a Man. We ask no easy path for him--no unmanly way--no
indulgent tempering of the winds. We pray for no riches--for no great
deeds of his doing--for no ease at all nor any satisfaction. We ask of
Thee in his behalf good Manhood. Lead him where true men must go: lead
him where they learn the all of life; lead him where they level down and
build again; lead him where in righteous strength his hands may lift the
fallen; lead him where in anger he may strike; lead him where his tears
may fall; lead him where his heart may find a pure desire. O Almighty
God, Lover of children, Father of us all alike, make of this child, in
the measure of his service and in the stature of his soul, a Man.
Amen._"

Amen, indeed!

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

_CHRISTMAS EVE AT SWAMP'S END_

As for poor little Pattie Batch, all this while, she sat alone, a
doleful heart, in the shack at the edge of the big, black woods, quite
unaware of the momentous advent of a Christmas baby at Swamp's End. The
Christmas wind was still high, still shaking the cabin, still rattling
the door, still howling like a wild beast in the night, still roaring in
the red stove; and snow was falling again--a dry dust of snow which
veiled the wondering stars. It was no longer a jolly, rollicking
Christmas wind. The gale, now, it seemed, was become inimical to the
lonely child: wild, vaunting, merciless, terrible with cold. Pattie
Batch, disconsolate, sighed more often than a tender heart could bear to
sanction in a child, and found swift visions in the glowing coals,
though no enlivening tableaux; but--dear brave and human little
one!--she presently ejaculated "Shoot it, anyhow!" and began at once to
cheer up. And she was comfortably toasting her shins, in a placid
delusion