ad. He was not a very good reader. This
was the first piece of the Bible Martin had ever owned. There was an
old, unused family Bible at home. A red Testament, was much more
attractive to Martin.

"Where'll I read?" Martin asked himself now. "I want an easy verse.
Some of them look too hard."

He began and dropped several verses, because of their difficulty.
Finally he settled on one, because of its shortness. He read its
seven words haltingly but carefully.

"'L-e-s-t'--I don't know that
word--'c-o-m-i-n-g'--coming--'s-u-d-d-e-n-l-y--he find you
s-l-e-e-p-i-n-g.' 'Lest coming suddenly, he find you sleeping.'"

Of the connection of the verse, and its spiritual significance,
Martin knew nothing. The word "l-e-s-t" puzzled him. He would ask
somebody about it.

When he helped his father with the horses at the barn that evening,
Martin questioned his father about the word "l-e-s-t."

"Haven't you spelled it wrong?" asked his father. "I guess it's
'l-e-a-s-t'--'least'--smallest."

"It's in my new red book," answered Martin, perching on the watering
trough. "I'll find the place."

Martin did not know much about New Testament books or chapters, but
he knew that verse was on the eighty-second page. Martin had noted
the little numbers at the bottom of the pages.

"Here 'tis!" triumphantly exclaimed Martin.

His father took the book. Martin's eager finger pointed to the
verse.

"Lest coming suddenly, he find you sleeping."

The words faced the stage-driver. Well did he know their meaning.
Years ago in his mother's home he had been taught from the Bible.
His eyes now ran over the preceding verses. He caught parts of them.
"The Son of man is as a man taking a far journey." "Watch ye
therefore." "Ye know not when the master of the house cometh." "Lest
coming suddenly, he find you sleeping."

"Don't you know what 'l-e-s-t' means?" asked Martin, eager for the
explanation.

"Oh--why, yes," responded his father. "It means 'For fear' he should
come suddenly."

"Who?" asked Martin.

"The Lord," returned his father gravely.

"Why shouldn't they be sleeping?" asked Martin.

"Who?" said his father, turning to attend to the horses.

"I don't know," said Martin. "I mean my verse."

"Martin," stated the stage-driver, "I'm no hand at explaining. Don't
ask any more questions."

Every Sunday after this Miss Bruce persisted in asking whether the
boys read in their Testaments.

"It's mean the way some of the boys don'