The officers of the Indiana State Fair last year offered a prize of
a ten-dollar suit of clothes to the boy under fourteen years of age
who should saw the largest pile of wood in a given time.
You may be sure that many boys who hated the sight of a wood-pile
now began to exercise their muscles, and vigorously set to work to
earn the prize. One of the ladies on the committee told me that her
own son worked night and morning for a week before the fair, trying
to persuade the family that he would stand a chance for the prize.
And when the day came round he left his breakfast untasted, so
anxious was he to get to the grounds and begin the race.
At least a dozen boys entered the lists with their saws, but one by
one they dropped off, thoroughly exhausted. There were but two
others left when the little fellow of whom I told you gave up the
race.
"He went off and lay down," said his mother, "the sorriest
spectacle you ever saw."
The two remaining boys now bent all their energies to conquer each
other. The wood fairly flew from under their hands, and their saws
kept up a humming noise, and seemed to drive their sharp teeth into
the hard wood with a never-say-die spirit.
Minute after minute went by, and not a word was spoken. Sparks of
fire sometimes flew from the heated metal. The boys glanced at each
other like lightning flashes.
Oh, how hard they worked! They forgot the prize; I think they
forgot everything except that so many people were looking at them,
and it would never do to fail.
At last the stroke of one saw began to waver. It grew more and more
feeble, and looking at the little arm that guided it, they saw that
he was yielding. He flung down the saw at last, and closing his
lips desperately over his disappointment, walked hurriedly away.
The other boy worked the allotted time, and received the prize.
He was barely twelve years old, but it was no new thing for him to
saw wood. His father had been dead for many years, and he had often
sawed wood to earn money to help support his mother and his little
sister.
And what do you think happened to this little sister that day? She
got a prize too. Yes, she had been taught to do something useful
for her mother and brother.
There was a prize offered for the best _patchwork_ by children
under twelve, and this little girl had mended her own poor clothes
ever so many times, and put patches upon her brother's, in the long
evenings. So when she heard of the offer of the prize, she said to
herself, "Brother will saw wood; why may not I take some
patchwork?" And with her mother's consent she took a pair of her
brother's pants which she had neatly patched and mended, and her
work took the premium.
"A five-dollar hat!" She could hardly believe her senses at first
when they told her, but there were few happier children in the
world than this little brother and sister, who started down town to
"pick out" a hat and a suit of clothes. Mr. Woodsaw walked as
proudly as a peacock when he had trimmed himself up in his new
suit, and Miss Patchwork, in her beautiful hat, with flower and
feather, looked as sweet as a rose. Their feet seemed to have
wings, and they flew along the street.
"Oh, look, mother, look!" they cried, as soon as they were in sight
of the door; but the curious people could not see their mother's
joy, for she closed the door instantly upon the outside world, and
held _her_ prize boy and girl to her happy heart.
I am sure that everybody will read this true story with a feeling of
satisfaction that the prizes were won by a brother and sister who so
thoroughly deserved them. But I want you to notice two or three things.
The little fellows who tried wood-sawing, simply to get the prize, for
two or three weeks, were distanced by a lad who had made wood-sawing his
business. He had helped his widowed mother by working in a manly way,
and so he had a great deal more strength than if he had taken up the
work for mere amusement. The little sister, too, had done the hardest of
all patchwork when she mended her brother's old jackets and pants. I
felt so pleased that she gained the prize, and I am sure the other girls
who tried were glad to see her sweet face under her pretty hat at
Sunday-school next Sunday. The boy who started off without his breakfast
made a mistake. When you have hard work to do, or a journey to go upon,
or a tough problem to solve, always take a good breakfast if you can.
Excitement will not take the place of food. Finally, dears, I think the
boys who honestly tried, and failed, were worthy of a great deal of
credit. It is no disgrace to be beaten after you have done the very best
you can.
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We would call the attention of the C. Y. P. R. U. to Mrs. John Lillie's
interesting article entitled "Papa Haydn," and "What the Showman Did not
Tell," by Mr. William H. Rideing. The latter article contains a great
deal of information which our boys and girls will probably remember
better by hearing it from the "Showman" than if they had learned it in
volumes on Natural History.
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