Bob Brawley was a Texas cow boy. Ho had as mueh idea of moral rosponsibility and about as much knowlodge of Christian duty as tho boy who " warn't brought up at all, bat come down tho river on a rai't with dad." One day Bob was out on the prairie hunting stock ; all at once lic snw a band of wild Camancho Indians coming across the prairie in i'ull tilt making for him. Ho instantly, as every frontiorsman does, under similar circuinstances, made for the bush. He knew this was his only sfifety. After running for some distance he looked baok, and beheld the Indians wero gaining on him. ho expected evory minute to receivo an arrow. Knowing that his scalp was in danger, he eoncluded that it was timo to pray. Poor Bob, this was someihing he had never learned. After thinking for a moment, ho bothought him of his fatherjs blcssing, and most devoutly did ho pray " Lord mako us thankful for what wo aro about to recoive." Everything in nature indulges in amusement of some kind. Tho lightnings play, the wind whistles, the thunders roll, tho snow flies, the rjjls and cascades ping and dance, the waves leap, tho fieldg smile, the vinos creep and run, the buds ghoot nnd tho hills have tops - to play with. But Bomo of thom have thoir seasons of melancholy. Tho tempesta moan, the zephyrs sigh, tho brooksmurmur, ajid tho mountains look bluo.