“That’s so,” replied the agent patiently; “insurance companies cannot prevent sickness and death any more than you can, Uncle Ned, but insurance companies can and do help you to bear your burdens in time of trouble.” “That’s just what my religion does,” said the old man, with great satisfaction. “But we do it in a different way,” persisted the agent. “How do you do it?” asked Uncle Ned. Then the agent went on to explain all about insurance, the benefits, the premiums, accident benefits, sick benefits, etc., dwelling particularly on the fund that would be paid in the event of the old man’s death. Uncle Ned listened with a great deal of interest, and after he had finished, inquired: “Mr. Turner, who do you say the money goes to when I die?” “To your wife,” answered Mr. Turner, “or to your children, or any one else you name.” “Well, Mr. Turner, let me ask you one question: Don’t you think that would help the other fellow more than it would me?” “What other fellow?” asked the agent. “My wife’s second husband,” replied Ned. “You know as well as I do that if I was to die and leave five or six hundred dollars to her that some other colored gentleman would be trying to change her name before I got cold in the ground.” The agent could not suppress a smile, and Uncle Ned went on: “Women are mighty curious; if I went into this thing, I wouldn’t dare let Dinah know about it. She is a mighty fine and loving wife right now, but if she knew there was all that money waiting for her when I died, wouldn’t she be sort of looking forward to the time when she would get it to spend? Why, Mr. Turner, she might even be tempted to put something in my tea, and the first thing I knew some morning I’d wake up dead. I don’t want anything to do with this insurance. The Baptist Church is good enough for me.” When Mr. Turner gave it up and laughingly left him, he heard Uncle Ned singing-- “I’m a Baptist bred and a Baptist born, And when I die, that’s a Baptist gone.” THE STRENUOUS LIFE. They were having a rough-and-tumble time of it and Pansy was getting some pretty hard blows. She took them all good-naturedly, nevertheless, and tried to give as good as she received, much to the delight of her little boy friends. A lady who was standing near, afraid for the little girl, chided the boys and said: “You shouldn’t handle Pansy so roughly--you might hurt her.” And then Pansy looked up in sweet surprise and said with amusing seriousness: “No; they won’t hurt me. I don’t break easy.”