Church review . is a baby, get hold of way to any mothers heart cangenerally be found through the with it; call it names. We have averse we always use; it never fails toopen the mothers heart:—Tis-er-ry is-er-ryBoo-zer-ry boo,No baby so pretty as oo. After you have -aid that you cantalk to the mother on the doctrine ofelection or anything else you choose;she is ready to listen. All this is likethe soapstone the shoeman sprinkle--in the shoe to make it go on you can talk of the church andSabbath-school for the children, andthen present Christ for the life.
Church review . is a baby, get hold of way to any mothers heart cangenerally be found through the with it; call it names. We have averse we always use; it never fails toopen the mothers heart:—Tis-er-ry is-er-ryBoo-zer-ry boo,No baby so pretty as oo. After you have -aid that you cantalk to the mother on the doctrine ofelection or anything else you choose;she is ready to listen. All this is likethe soapstone the shoeman sprinkle--in the shoe to make it go on you can talk of the church andSabbath-school for the children, andthen present Christ for the life. There was a clanging of bells, andtheir recitations finished, and hurriedthe students came from the classroom,to the gymnasium for a game of bask-et-ball.—The Christian EnddavorWorld. ABBOTTSFORD. The Home of Sir Walter Scott. Along the border country of Scot-land, three miles from Melrose, on thebanks of the babbling Twedd, standsAbbott-ford, the palatial home of Wal-ter Scott. Writers frequently refer to. SIR THE CHURCH REVIEW. it as a romance in stone, and such itis. It rests like a sparkling diamondin an emerald setting. For milesaround are the green, rolling pasturelands, marked off by low stonehedges, as they say in England, oftenpartly hidden by flowering of gentle sheep and herds ofcows nibble the sweet grass and drinkfrom the running streams. A slightknoll rising just north of the riverserves as a back-ground to bring outthe fine proportions of the artistic we approached Abbottsford wecould well imagine that in all respectsthe surroundings would be to the likingof the freedom-loving, deep-souled,sturdy Scotch-man. The home of Sir Walter, as hiscountrymen always call him, was aMecca where many of the nobles of theland thronged to share his royal hospi-tality. Walter Scott stood without arival as the greatest writer of his Byron began to rise as astar of portentous magnitude. Never-theless, Scott always held undis-puted s
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