MISSIONARY, A, IN THE MAKING
At the age of ten, David Livingstone went to work in the cotton factory as a piecer, and after some years was promoted to be a spinner. The first half-crown he earned he gave to his mother. With part of his first week’s wages he bought a Latin text-book and studied that language with ardor in an evening class between eight and ten. He had to be in the factory at six in the morning and his work ended at eight at night. But by working at Latin until midnight he mastered Vergil and Horace by the time he was sixteen. He used to read in the factory by putting the book on the spinning-jenny so that he could catch a sentence at a time as he passed at his work. He was fond of botany and geology and zoology, and when he could get out would scour the country for specimens.—Robert E. Speer, “Servants of the King.”
(2046)
MISSIONARY, A LITTLE
“I can not afford it,” said John Hale, the rich farmer, when asked to give to the cause of missions.
Harry, his wide-awake grandson, was grieved and indignant.
“But the poor heathen,” he replied; “is it not too bad they can not have churches and schoolhouses and books?”
“What do you know about the heathen?” exclaimed the old man testily. “Do you wish me to give away my hard earnings? I tell you, I can not afford it.”
But Harry was well posted in missionary intelligence, and day after day puzzled his curly head with plans for extracting money for the noble cause from his unwilling relative. At last, seizing an opportunity when his grandfather was in a good humor over the election news, he said: “Grandfather, if you do not feel able to give money to the missionary board, will you give a potato?”
“A potato?” ejaculated Mr. Hale, looking up from his paper.