At the end of the feast Mr. Brown arose and moved a vote of thanks to their entertainers, which being properly seconded and carried the gentleman continued, "I suppose it is well understood that we have been feasting upon missionary turkeys, and missionary hens, and missionary ducks as well as other good things to which the same adjective belongs. Now I trust that none of us suppose for one instant that _we_ have given one cent to the mission cause by coming here to eat our dinner and paying a small sum for it. That is purely a business transaction; these young people have earned the money, and I congratulate them upon their enterprise. Now I understand that they have several turkeys and ducks as well as other things left over. And I wish to call out an expression from the friends here who have enjoyed their hospitality to-day. Shall we have our Christmas dinner prepared for us at the same place and under the same auspices? All in favor say 'aye.'" Then such a shout as went up seemed almost to raise the roof. A little time was spent socially, during which Mr. Brown told the story of the lame duck, and added as he finished, "Our little Helen here gave me an idea and I do not know but I may as well tell you that I have a missionary cow nowadays!" Presently the diners-out went to their homes, leaving the young people to their dinner and their work of clearing up. FAYE HUNTINGTON. A WORD IN SEASON. BERTIE and his mother were spending the summer at the Thousand Islands; they had a pretty cottage that overlooked the river, and Bertie was very fond of watching the never-ceasing ripple of the waters, and he learned to look for the different boats that ply the waters of the St. Lawrence during the season. One day an excursion boat touched the pier and a company of gayly dressed soldiers stepped off. What boy's heart does not beat quicker at the sight of a finely-uniformed military company? Bertie was no exception to the rule, and gave his mother no rest until she had promised to take him out into the park where he could see the soldiers. And accordingly after dinner they strolled out and Mrs. Grant and a friend found seats under the trees where they could read or talk and keep an eye upon the restless boy. Just before leaving home for the Islands Bertie had been taught a bit of a poem which he had recited at a Sunday-school concert. One line ran: I'm a little soldier fighting for the right. The soldiers were strolling about in pairs and singly, and Bertie stood near the fountain watching a fine-looking fellow who had stopped for a cool drink of sparkling water. Suddenly the words of his recitation came into his mind and without hesitation he stepped up to the stranger and said: "Man, are you a soldier fighting for the right?" and then stood still looking at the soldier as if waiting for a reply. "Who are you?" asked the stranger. "Oh, I'm a little soldier fighting for the right!"