Learn: REBECCA'S AFTER-THOUGHT BY ELIZA TURNER Yesterday, Rebecca Mason Quite alarmed, she thought of going Very quietly away, Not a single person knowing But Rebecca recollected She was taught deceit to shun; Who commended her behavior, FEBRUARY: PERSEVERANCE THE BOY WHO WANTED TO LEARN1 When Booker Washington was a little boy, his family was so poor that he had to work in a salt mine, and often he had to begin working at four o'clock in the morning. He did not have any chance to go to school, but he wanted with all his heart to learn to read, and he persuaded his mother to get a spelling book for him. He learned the alphabet all by himself, for no one, old or young, who lived near knew how to read. At last a 1 Adapted from Chap. ii of Up from Slavery. Copyright 1900 and 1901, by Booker T. Washington (Doubleday, Page & Co.). young man came to the neighborhood who knew a little about teaching, and he was engaged to teach every one. There were day-schools, night-schools, and Sunday schools, and old men and women came, because they wanted so much to learn to read the Bible. Poor little Booker had to work all day, but he was allowed to go to school in the evening, and by and by his father said that if he worked at the salt furnace from five to nine in the morning and came back to work as soon as school closed, he could go to school by day. Sometimes he had to walk several miles at night to recite his nightschool lessons, but he was determined that no matter what it cost he would get an education. One day when working in the mine, he heard two miners talking about a great school in Virginia, and he crept up closer to listen. One man said that if any boy was poor he could work at this school to pay for his board. Booker Washington decided at once to go; but he had almost no money of his own, and it was a long way to Hampton. The older colored people were very generous and they gave Booker all the money they could spare. One gave a quarter, and one a nickel, and one a handkerchief. Hampton was five hundred miles away, and he did not have enough money to get there. He walked, he begged for a ride in wagons that came by, and one night he passed out of doors, walking about to keep warm. At last he reached Hampton, and it seemed the grandest place in the world. He resolved that he would learn all he could, and then do all the good he could with what he had learned. When he went to see the teacher, he had had no chance to take a bath or get clean, and she looked at him doubtfully. At last she said: "The next recitation room needs sweeping. Take a broom and sweep it." Booker Washington determined to make that room as fine as a new fiddle. He swept the floor three times. He went over the woodwork, the benches, tables, and desks four times. He cleaned every closet and corner thoroughly. Then he went back to the teacher. She came into the room and looked carefully at the floor and the closets, then she rubbed her handkerchief on the woodwork and over the benches. When she was unable to find one speck of dirt anywhere, she said: “I guess you'll do to enter this institution." Tell the story of making the brick-kiln from Up from Slavery. (Booker T. Washington, Doubleday, Page & Co.) Learn: DON'T GIVE UP BY PHOEBE CARY If you've tried and have not won, All that's great and good is done Though young birds, in flying, fall, Though the sturdy oak has known Many a blast that bowed her, If by easy work you beat, Who the more will prize you? Gaining victory from defeat, That's the test that tries you! Read: "Suppose," by Alice Cary. MARCH: AMBITION Learn: "Now," by Phoebe Cary. Read: Rollo at Work, by Jacob Abbott (Crowell & Co.). THE BOY WHO RECOMMENDED HIMSELF A gentleman advertised for a boy to assist him in his office, and nearly fifty applicants presented themselves to him. Out of the whole number, he selected one, and dismissed the rest. "I should like to know," said a friend, "on what ground you selected that boy, who had not a single recommendation." "You are mistaken," said the gentleman, "he had a great many. He wiped his feet when he came in, and closed the door after him, showing that he was careful. He gave his seat instantly to that lame old man, showing that he was kind and thoughtful. He took off his cap when he came in, and answered my questions promptly, showing that he was polite and gentlemanly. He picked up the book, which I had purposely laid on the floor, and replaced it upon the table, while all the rest stepped over it, showing that he was orderly; and he waited quietly for his turn, instead of pushing and crowding. When I talked to him, I noticed that his clothing was tidy, his hair neatly brushed, and his finger nails clean. Do you not call these things letters of recommendation? I do." Selected. APRIL: OBEDIENCE CLIMBING ALONE1 "Here, wind," cried an impatient voice, "come and help a friend in trouble, will you?" 1 From Earth's Many Voices, by Mrs. Margaret Gatty (abridged). "Certainly," replied the good-natured wind, and on arriving at the front of the cottage, he found a long branch of a climbing rose striving to get loose from some bands which held it fast. "Oh! help me, do," it said, "help me to drag out this provoking nail that I may get free.” "Nonsense," said the wind. "That nail is there to train you properly, so that you may grow up a beautiful rose, covered with white blossoms." “Just as if I did n't know my way up the wall without any of these stupid nails and strips of cloth," exclaimed the rose angrily. "Well, but even if you know your way - and I'm not so sure of that I doubt your having strength to climb without any help." - "I don't care. I don't choose to be tied,” cried the impatient branch again. “And if you don't help me to get loose, I'll tear away the nails myself." "Have your own way, then," answered the wind sorrowfully, and with a little force, he bent the branch forward until the nail was drawn from the wall and the rose dropped to the ground. A heavy shower fell that night; it bent the untied branch down to the ground. "That delicious shower has done us all good,” cried every blade of grass, every flower, every tree. "It has not done me much good," muttered the foolish branch, as it lay stretched on the soaking ground, splashed all over with mud. "Well," remarked the wind, "what do you say now to a few nails and a few shreds of cloth to keep you up out of the mud?" "I don't choose to be tied," the rose answered obstinately. "It is not at all great or grand to be tied up and nailed up. The sun is n't nailed up!" "Why, my friend," cried the wind, "nothing that |