"You ain't going to leave me here?' he asked. 'I'll die!'"' or hours were passing, but he lay quiet, and waited for the end that he could feel descending upon him. He was too weak to struggle now. He did not blame Phinney much. His greatest concern was for Martha, his wife, and that concern took hold upon trivial things. It must have hurt her when he compared Christianity to "spoon victuals," for that was the most contemptuous comparison he knew how to make. There were other things, also; and so full was his mind that when the flap of snow-shoes first came to his ears he doubted that the sound was real. Then his head was lifted, and the voice of Nahum Phinney spoke in its accustomed tones. "I'm awful sorry, Mr. Unger," it said. "I did n't understand jest what I was a-doing, going off and leaving a human being like that. It was an awful' mean thing to do, and I hope you won't lay it up ag'in' me. It wa'n't Christian, nohow." The Esau Unger said not a word as Phinney spread a coat beneath his head. pinioned man was trembling from cold and exhaustion, but these were not what kept him silent. He was thinking with a kind of awe of the thing that had brought Phinney back to the aid of an enemy when his child lay ill. This thing would have been foolishness to him a few hours before, but now it began to take hold upon his feelings and slowly upon his understanding. "It ain't nigh so bad as I figured, Mr. Unger," announced Phinney, cheerfully, patter of encouragement was wonderfully grateful to him, and he marveled at his own thoughts. Christmas and Christianity and Nahum Phinney went together, he had said to his wife that morning. Now he remembered the words with astonishment at their new meaning. He heard the chug of the ax with a warmth. in his heart for the despised little man. Talking and working with equal rapidity, Phinney, now freed from his snowshoes, kicked the snow away from the limb between Unger and the fork. Then he put down a part of a thick branch that he had cut, and over it worked the end of a strong pole until that end was well under the limb that held Unger imprisoned. The pole acted as a perfect lever. "If I was as big and strong as you be, I'd jest take one hand to this and pull you out with the other," chattered the rescuer ; "but I ain't, nowhere near. S'pose you can crawl out when I pry on the limb, Mr. Unger?" "Yes," replied Esau Unger, and shut his teeth with the grim realization that he must drag himself out or most likely perish. Phinney threw his small weight and strength on the end of the lever, the limb yielded and moved upward ever so little, and Unger, digging his clumps of hands into the snow, prayed for the first time in all his life for that which he had believed was inalienably his-strength. His great arm and breast muscles contracted. Slowly his body moved, while the little man at the end of the pole bore down, panted, and clawed for a foothold in the snow. Unger drew himself up to his hands and knees only to fall again. But he was free. It was minutes before Esau Unger could stand upright, and half an hour be fore he could walk without an arm flung over the shoulder of Nahum Phinney, who had gossiped cheerfully as he kneaded life into the legs and arms of the man he had saved. "You better change all your clothes jest as quick as you get home, Mr. Unger," he advised, "and soak your feet in mustard water to-night. If it wa'n't for little Emmy, I'd go clear home with you. I'd jest as lief go, anyway, if you want me." "You hustle right along after that doctor!" ordered Unger, with a touch of his old manner. "Well, I guess mebbe I 'd better," replied Phinney. He hurriedly bound on his snow-shoes and started up the slope of the spur. "Much obliged, Nahum!" Unger called out. "Almighty much obliged!" Phinney turned, and waved his hand, and there was something shining in his face that the other man had not seen there before. Unger tightened the belt of his jacket and went down toward the valley that he had thought he would never see again. The chill was rapidly going from him, and his blood warmed. He drew deep, grateful breaths as he climbed the fence into the back pasture. There at hand stood the clump of small spruces one of which Martha had wanted to make a Christmas-tree for Nahum Phinney's children. Esau struck off a tree with a blow, and went on toward home with the green limbs dragging behind him in the snow. Sight of the kitchen door was pleasant, and he remembered that Martha had wanted to have it painted the fall before. He felt sorry that he had not let her buy the paint, and as he made ready to go into the kitchen, he carefully kicked the snow from his feet. The little hardnesses of his soul were melting. Martha Unger had just finished baking, and Esau glimpsed many brown loaves and fat pies on the broad pantry shelf. His wife turned from the stove and gazed at him. "What's happened?" she cried. "What along a hunk of beef, too. One of the little gals ain't very well, and Nahum 's gone for the doctor." It was plain that Martha Unger's world was trembling. She sat down limply in a chair. "Esau Unger, you 're sick!" she cried. "You better go right straight to bed!" "I ain't sick, neither." Esau bristled, but he avoided his wife's eyes. "Ain't a man got a right to help his neighbors, I 'd like to know? Ain't they human critters jest like us?" H New Mexico By FLORENCE POYAS JOHNSTON ERE the great waters of the deep have gone. These rocks and sands lie 'neath the desert glare, The mountains, as if taking breath full-drawn A striving learned through ocean eons, where Now dun-gray mesas, valleys, mile on mile Sweep out to far horizons; and the sky Bends down, enfolds them with the brooding smile G. J. FOU ents. The Only Child By H. ADDINGTON BRUCE Author of "The Boy Who Goes Wrong," etc. They had fervently They had fervently OURTEEN years ago a boy was born of prosperous New York parHis arrival was exceptionally welcome, for his father and mother had been living in dread that theirs would prove a childless marriage. promised themselves that if their fondest hope was realized and a child granted to them, nothing that loving devotion could accomplish would be left undone to secure for the little one the best possible start in life. As a first step in the fulfilment of this promise they decided, soon after their son's birth, to remove from New York to an "exclusive" residential suburb, where fresh air abounded, and where the adverse environmental influence of the crowded city streets was utterly unknown. Seemingly no decision could have been wiser; seemingly no child could have been brought up amid more favorable surroundings than their boy enjoyed in the splendid home they provided for him on a beautiful slope crested with pines. Yet, despite all the love lavished on him, despite the prodigious efforts to shield him. from unfavorable influences, he did not thrive. Before he was seven he displayed "nervous" symptoms that threw his parents into a panic. He suffered from "night terrors," he became excitable and irritable. The eminent physician to whom he was promptly taken made the flattering diagnosis that the only trouble with the boy was an unusually sensitive nervous organization; prescribed sedatives, advised outdoor exercise, warned against overstudy, and so forth. Unhappily, he did not also emphasize the necessity for simplification of the child's environment as a preventive of nerve strain. Nor did he dwell on the supreme importance, to physical no less than to moral welfare, of sedulously cultivating in the little fellow the virtues of courage, self-control, and self-denial. Perhaps he did not think it needful to speak of these things to such evidently well-bred and well-intentioned parents; perhaps he did not think of these things at all. In any event, while acting on his advice as to stimulating animal activity and retarding brain function, the father and mother continued to minister to their son's every whim, and eternally busied themselves devising amusements and distractions for him. In time the "night terrors" were no longer in evidence; but the excitability and irritability persisted, and presently other unpleasant traits appeared, notably a tendency to conceit and selfishness. Naturally this did not make the poor youngster any too popular among the few playmates with whom his parents allowed him to associate, and naturally the parents blamed the playmates for not appreciating the "sensitiveness" of his disposition. Thus matters continued until his twelfth year, when his father suddenly awakened to the fact that intellectually the naughty playmates were considerably ahead of the good little boy. For the first time common sense scored a distinct triumph over excessive parental love; the governess who had been unable to handle her self-willed pupil was dismissed, and the boy was sent to school. There he has been painfully gaining the discipline the lessons in self-masterythat should have been given him in the nursery. Lately he has profited much by reason of business interests that took his parents to Europe for many months, and put him more completely under the control of the school authorities. But he still is lamentably arrogant and selfish; he still finds it difficult to get along with other boys. Whether his schoolmates will take the trouble to help him overcome the handicap of his early rearing is questionable; and however this may be, it is scarcely likely that the character defects unnecessarily acquired during his childhood will be wholly rooted out. Now, this boy's case is by no means exceptional. Rather, it is typical of the plight of most "only children," who, no matter what their advantages of birth, too often reach manhood and womanhood sadly handicapped and markedly inferior to other children. In a vague way, to be sure, parents with only one child have long realized that they are confronted with special problems in child training; but there is abundant proof that in the great majority of instances they signally fail to grasp these problems clearly and work them out satisfactorily. Every-day observation supports this statement, and it is confirmed by the findings of modern medical, psychological, and sociological investigation. Statistically its most impressive corroboration is forthcoming from the results of a census of "only children" undertaken a few years ago by the psychological department of Clark University in consequence of certain suggestive indications noticed in the responses received to a questionnaire on peculiar and exceptional children. Of the one thousand children described in these responses, it was observed that forty-six were specifically mentioned as being "only children," although none of the queries in the questionnaire asked directly or indirectly about such children. The presumption was that a number of the remainder were also of the only child class; but even if such were not the case, the total of forty-six was surprisingly high, since, according to reliable vital statistics, the average progeny of fertile marriages is six, with an only child average of one out of every thirteen fertile marriages; that is, a proportion of one only child to every seventy-eight children, as contrasted with the proportion of one in fewer than every twenty-two of the “peculiar" children described in the questionnaire reports. Moreover, on dividing these reports into three groups based on the "advantageous," "neutral," and "disadvantageous" character of the peculiarities mentioned, it was found that while considerably less than half of the total number of children fell into the disadvantageous group, two thirds of the "only children" had to be put in it. Naturally this suggested the desirability of a special investigation with reference to the only child, and accordingly a second questionnaire was issued, with queries relating to age, sex, nationality, health, amusements, intellectual ability, moral traits, etc. In this way, from school-teachers and other disinterested observers definite information was obtained as to nearly four hundred "only children"-information which, as finally tabulated and analyzed by the director of the investigation, Mr. E. W. Bohannon, is of great significance to the parents of every only child, and to all interested in individual and racial improve ment. The age average of those whose age was given-nearly three hundred-was twelve years, including about sixty ranging in age from seventeen to thirty-five. About four fifths were of American parentage, while the proportion with regard to sex was, roughly speaking, one third. male and two thirds female, a disparity |