THE CAREFUL KING.
Once upon a time a certain king of Persia went out hunting with all
his court. The chase that day happened to be long, and the king became
very thirsty. But no fountain or river could be found near the spot on
the plain where they rested for a short interval. At last one of the
courtiers spied a large garden not far off. It was filled with trees bearing
lemons, oranges. and grapes. His followers begged the monarch to
partake of the good things in the garden.
"Heaven forbid that I should eat anything thereof," said the king,
"for, if I permitted myself to gather but an orange from it, my officers
and courtiers would not leave a single fruit.in the entire garden."
The higher in life a person is the more careful he should be, for all
his faults are copied by those beneath him.-Chatterbox.
THE LOCOMOTIVE IN CENTRAL AFRICA.
The work that the African Methodist Church is seeking to do in
Africa, no less than natural affinity, makes any item or occurrence con-
nected with that remarkable land eagerly read by the patrons of the A.
M. E. Review. A few years ago there was little besides adventures with
wild beasts and wilder men to thrill our blood, but to-day the story of the
rapid advance of civilization and its agents, the railroad and telegraph,
is a far more wonderful one than Stanley told when he returned from
finding Livingstone. It is this that makes the following recital from an
exchange correspondent so absorbing and so informing:
In the heart of Africa, 1700 miles from the Atlantic, a little band of
white men, not 200 in all, direct the labors of 5000 negroes in one of the
most remarkable conquests of nature to the credit of civilization. They
press forward step by step, clearing the tropical forests and surveying the
land, throwing up embankments and laying the ties and steel rails of an
iron highway as they go. In front is a country rich in gold and copper and
the diamond fields of the Transvaal. Behind them are 1400 miles of rail-
road and waterway which nine years ago were veiled in the mystery of
Stanley's "Darkest Africa." The scream of the locomotive pierces the
jungles where lions and leopards had their lairs and droves of wild ele-
phants stripped the palm trees for their yellow fruit. Telephone bells
wrangle with gray parrots. Churning steamboat wheels invade the dwelling
places of hippopotami among the reeds on the river banks. A saw mill
sings at the spot where Henry M. Stanley, 20 years ago, heard the horns,