The Little Rationalist

THE superintendent's voice rolled out musically as he read those beautiful verses, Matthew vi. 26, 28, 29:—

"Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns: yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?

"And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they toil not, neither do they spin:

"And yet I say "—

"Say, mister," piped up that Bryan, boy, "if I owned the land and charged them lilies rent, then where would they grow? "

"Why, you naughty boy! What a question! God could pay,—why, God owns all the land himself. That is—er—you're disturbing the school, and you'd better go home. "

"Well, God can't feed no fowls on my land," said the child, as he was led out by the ear, "without he pays me the rent. "