It is only possible to live as we do, when each one works for others as well as for himself. If any one fails to do his part, the rest must suffer until some one is found to take his place. It is to prepare yourself to do _your part_ in some useful work for others, that you are going to school day by day. You do not now know just what that work is to be, but I want you to remember that _all_ honest work is noble. It is not so important _what work_ you do, as it is that you should do your work _well_. No matter what your work may be, you can carry sunshine in your face and helpfulness in your heart. If you do this, you will be known and loved. Hard work, coarse clothes, and lack of money can never hide these things, neither will the finest of clothing cover a selfish or untruthful nature. Let us look at this dinner table loaded with good things to eat and drink. There are bread, butter, meat, vegetables, milk, tea, fruits, and other things. You see at once that many persons must have worked to provide this food, for only a small part of the work was done in the kitchen. If these things could but speak, they might tell you stories as wonderful as fairy tales. They have been gathered here from the fertile plains of the West, from the sunny South, from Brazil, from the islands of the Pacific Ocean, from far-off China, and even from the waters of the sea. THE STORY OF A LOAF OF BREAD In the dark granary of a farmer's barn in North Dakota once lived a modest family of grains of wheat. The bright, warm days of the summer time, during which they had been placed in this dark room, soon grew shorter and cooler. The swallows, whose mud nests were in the rafters overhead, told the wheat brothers that winter was coming, and then flew away to the balmy southland. Soon biting winds and blinding snow came sweeping over the level land. Sometimes the farmhouse was almost hidden under the drifts, and the farmer had to shovel out a path to the barn, so that he could feed the horses and cattle. By and by the days grew warmer, the snow disappeared, and the birds returned one by one. The farmer and his men got out their plows and harrows, and prepared the soil for the seeds soon to be planted. The wheat was now shoveled into sacks and taken to the fields. Here it was placed in great machines drawn by horses, which scattered it evenly over the land and at the same time covered it with soft soil. The men whistled and sang as they worked, and blackbirds, bluebirds, and larks flew back and forth, singing and searching for bugs and worms, as well as for the shining kernels of wheat. The wheat was not content to remain underground, but kept trying to push itself out into the world. One night there came a warm shower, and the next morning what looked like tiny, green blades of grass appeared all over the field.