THE Le me =™ [Brrr tn an ‘SS JR. VOLUME IL. Where Is My Boy? There are heart songs so intensely and universally human and true that they will always have their occasion and their sympathetic ministry. One of these is the well-known hymn, “Where is My Wandering Boy To- night?” The following is condensed from a chapter of autobiography in the Union Gospel News: A young civil engineer of western Kentucky,who assisted his father in his business of railroad prospecting and surveying, had contracted intemperate habits. His work from place to place threw him into the society of loose men, much more than his father seemed to be aware of, and being a generous, convivial fellow, he paid for his popularity by copying their indulg- ences. His dangerous appetite and his oc- easional fits of dissipation were so shrewdly concealed that his parents were kept in ignorance of them for two years—until he was twenty years old. They were worthy people and constant church-goers, the father be- ing choir-leader and the mother a fine soprano singer. Once, while the young man was em- ployed on a section of road forty miles from home, it became necessary to “lie over” from Thursday noon till Monday. His father would be detained till Saturday, reaching home in time for the choir rehearsal, but the son returned at once, and went to a liquor saloon to commence a three days’ “spree.” The saloon-keeper understood his case too well, and kept him hidden in his own apartments. When his father returned, expecting to find the boy at home, a surprise awaited him. Trouble | began when the question, ‘Where’s Harry?” informed the startled mother that he was missing. For the Sunday evening service she was to sing a solo, and by special re- quest—because she sang it so well-—- her selection was to be the hymn, “Where is My Wandering Boy?” It seemed to her impossible to per- form her promise under the circum- stances; and when, on Sunday morn- ing, a policeman found Harry, the cer- tainty was no more comforting than the suspense had been; but she was advised that he would be “all right to- morrow morning,” and that she had better not see him until “sobered up.” She controlled her grief as well as she could, took her part that day in the choir as usual, and made no change for the evening. Toward night Harry began to come to himself. His father had hired a man to stay with him and see to his recovery, and when he learned that his mother had been told of his plight, the information cut him to the heart and helped to sober him. When the bells rang, he announced his determination to go to church. He knew nothing of the evening program. He was still in his working clothes, but no reasoning could dissuade him, and his attendant, after making him as presentable as possible, went with him to the service. Entering early by a side door, they found seats in a secluded corner, but not far from the pulpit and the organ. The house filled, and after the usual EDITORIAL OFFICE, ROCK ISLAND, ILL. succession of prayer, anthem and ser- mon, the time for the solo came. It was probably the first time in that church that a mother had ever sung out of her own soul’s distress: “Oh, where is my wand’ring boy tonight, The child of my love and care?’ What faith sustained her, when every word must have been a cruel stab? The great audience caught the feeling of the song, but there was one heart as near to breaking as her own. That he was present she had no knowl- OCTOBER, 1901. A Word to Wives on Life Insur- ance. The last person in the world to stand in the way of the husband and father who wishes to assure his life should be the wife. Yet it is a remarkable fact that sometimes a man who fully real- izes the importance and value of life assurance is prevented from securing a policy by the unreasonable but very determined opposition of the wife. The good lady chooses to hug the foolish idea that the insurance policy is some- uk DARE, edge. She had sung the last stanza, “Go for my wandering boy to-night, Go search for him where you will, But bring him to me with all his blight, And tell him I love him still. Oh, where is my wandering boy?” when a young man in a wool shirt and corduroy trousers and jacket made his way to the choir stairs with out- stretched arms, and sobbing like a child, exclaimed: “Here I am, mother!” The weeping mother hastened down the steps and folded him in her arms. The astonished organist, quick to take in the meaning of the scene, pulled out all his stops and played “Old Hun- dred”’—‘‘Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.” The congregation, with hundreds of voices, joined in the great doxology, while the father, the pastor and the friends of the returned prodigal stood by him with moist eyes and welcoming hand. The wayward boy ended his wander- ings then and there. That moment was a consecration, and the beginning of a life of sobriety and Christian use- fulness. death and she would never touch blood mon- thing approaching a warrant, ey—never! Strange as it may seem we have never known the case of a wife who had set her face against her husband’s life assurance failing to promptly collect the amount of the policy when he was gone. Now any sensible woman who will calmly reflect for a moment upon the matter will see that the sum assured on her hus- band’s life is as properly purchased as is his house or shares or any other property. As a matter of fact if he were to buy a house on the condition that he should die before all the pur- chase money was paid the deeds would be handed over to his wife free of all further cost, there is no woman who would not commend his foresight and good sense. Now, instead of a house, which might prove an encumbrance, he arranges for acertain sum of money to be paid to his family at his death. Is he less wise? Is he not infinitely more sensible? Remember, it isn’t charity, or something to which his fam- ily have not a perfect right. On the PUBLICATION OFFICE, LINCOLN, NEB. NUMBER 10. contrary he bought it, by the payment of premiums while he lived. Another fact which wives should recollect is this, that the man who gets a policy in a first-class office must be a selected life, and therefore, likely to live to a good old age. This is the reason that assured lives as a class are much longer lived than the population generally. If a wife allows herself to entertain a foolish prejudice against life assur- ance for her own benefit, she should at least consider the welfare of her children. Their father is morally bound to leave them the means of sub- sisting when he is taken away. If he is not a rich man he cannot leave them land and houses, bank shares or other forms of wealth, but he can purchase for them a life policy, the full amount of which will be available in cash at his death. This is his privilege and it is also his duty. Will you, O wife, take upon yourself the serious consequence of thwarting your husband in the per- formance of his manifest duty to you and the children? Consider the matter calmly yourself, ask the advice of any enlightened person who is competent to advise you, and the result, if you will be persuaded, will be that not only will you cease to oppose your husband’s life assurance, but you will forthwith assist him in every possible way to secure a policy without delay.—Mutual Life Chronicle, Eng. ee F The Making of Character. Do not let us suppose that character requires great circumstances for the making. Character can be made in poor circumstances. There are huge manufactories in this country, with magnificent machinery, with chimneys belching forth clouds of black smoke to pollute the air, where they turn out carpets of the most wonderful aspects, which would almost make you ill to look at, and which perish quickly in the using. Far away in the east, in some poor little hut, an eastern ;workman is work- ing with threads of many colors beside him; he has been toiling for many years, and when he has finished he will have turned out a single square of such beautiful coloring and such perfect workmanship that when it comes to this country it will be bought at a great price, and the owner’s great- grandchildren will see it fresh and beautiful. So much for the great man- ufactory and the whirling wheels and the noise and the smoke; so much for the quietness and obscurity of a single workman.—Rev. John Watson, D. D. FF OD Straw Braid Trimmings. The evolution of straw from the stiff, unyielding braids to the soft, pliable, thin, satin varieties has wrought a pretty change in millinery, and beside this the old-fashioned lace-straws are revived again and twisted like silk into the softest, lightest toques. Some of the prettiest straws, aside from the yellow tints, are woven in two shades of pale fawn color, made up and trim- med with loops and bows of the new glace ribbon in the darker shade and a fold of silk or velvet in some bright color tucked under the brim with a small bunch of flowers of the same tint at the back.