the noise
of the thunder as it rolled from cliff to cliff was terrifying. A giant
pine tree which stood just before the entrance of the cave was rent from
top to bottom and went crashing down the mountainside. The noise of the
wind and storm was deafening. Pale and trembling, the girl pushed farther
and farther into the cave till, crouching down, she touched something
cool. It was the little white flowers.

They were not afraid. The rain might fall as hard as it would but it would
not blast their beauty. They were protected by a bit of overhanging rock.
The lightning might flash about the cave but it was calm inside. Who had
made the tiny blossoms to grow here in the rock, protected from storm and
blast? God! She, too, was being cared for while her companions might be in
the fury of the storm. Who was caring for her? Her friend? No, he was
interested in something at the entrance of the cave. God was caring for
her even as he cared for the little blossom.

"Come, Marcia, come and watch the storm," called the professor. "I have
never seen such a beautiful one. Isn't it strange that that electricity
was all there in the clouds as we came up the mountain though we knew it
not? I love to watch a storm for it shows so clearly the power and majesty
of our God. Watch the trees bend with the wind! Listen to the rocks send
back the sound of the thunder! See the little bird on yonder nest
snuggling close to keep the little ones safe! And see, far away, the sun
shining on the little village of the plain. We are in the storm, child,
yet we are safe and sheltered."

With her hand held fast in that of her old friend, the fear gradually died
away, and when the storm was over she, too, was glad she had seen from the
mountaintop the wonder of a mountain storm.

Soon they gathered the little white blossoms, but not all of them found
their way into the collection at the college. A little spray was tenderly
pressed between the leaves of Marcia Loran's Bible and a third little slip
of paper was fastened to the other two. It read: "God is great but God is
love. I will trust him and not be afraid."

THE WINNING OF AN HONOR

Barbara Lewis was very much puzzled. All the girls in her camp fire were
winning the right to embroider their symbol on the dress of their guardian
and she wanted to do the same. But how could she? She had chosen for her
name, "Chante--I _serve_," and she wanted to really win the right to have
the name, but ho