[Illustration:  FRANK L. STANTON]

A LITTLE THANKFUL SONG

No man is without a reason to be thankful.  If he lacks gratitude, the fault lies at least partly with himself.

  For what are we thankful for?  For this: 
    For the breath and the sunlight of life
  For the love of the child, and the kiss
    On the lips of the mother and wife. 
      For roses entwining,
        For bud and for bloom,
      And hopes that are shining
        Like stars in the gloom.

  For what are we thankful for?  For this: 
    The strength and the patience of toil;
  For ever the dreams that are bliss—­
    The hope of the seed in the soil. 
      For souls that are whiter
        From day unto day;
      And lives that are brighter
        From going God’s way.

  For what are we thankful for?  For all: 
    The sunlight—­the shadow—­the song;
  The blossoms may wither and fall,
    But the world moves in music along! 
        For simple, sweet living,
          (Tis love that doth teach it)
        A heaven forgiving
          And faith that can reach it!

Frank L. Stanton.

From “The Atlanta Constitution.”

TWO RAINDROPS

(A FABLE)

An egotist is not only selfish; he is usually ridiculous as well, for he sets us to wondering as to any possible ground for his exalted opinion of himself.  The real workers do not emphasize their superiority to other people, do not even emphasize the differences, but are grateful that they may share in humanity’s privilege of rendering service.

  Two little raindrops were born in a shower,
  And one was so pompously proud of his power,
  He got in his head an extravagant notion
  He’d hustle right off and swallow the ocean. 
  A blade of grass that grew by the brook
  Called for a drink, but no notice he took
  Of such trifling things.  He must hurry to be
  Not a mere raindrop, but the whole sea. 
  A stranded ship needed water to float,
  But he could not bother to help a boat. 
  He leaped in the sea with a puff and a blare—­
  And nobody even knew he was there!

  But the other drop as along it went
  Found the work to do for which it was sent: 
  It refreshed the lily that drooped its head,
  And bathed the grass that was almost dead. 
  It got under the ships and helped them along,
  And all the while sang a cheerful song. 
  It worked every step of the way it went,
  Bringing joy to others, to itself content. 
  At last it came to its journey’s end,
  And welcomed the sea as an old-time friend. 
  “An ocean,” it said, “there could not be
  Except for the millions of drops like me.”

Joseph Morris,