approached the lace counter and inquired for a certain make of lace.

"Sorry; haven't got it," said Brown, briefly. In a second Smith was at his side, whispering:

"Jack, you'll find it on the third lower shelf down." Turning, Brown went to the shelf indicated, found the goods, produced them, and made a sale. As soon as the customer departed the manager, who had been looking on, stepped up and asked:

"Brown, why don't you learn to know your goods?" "I can't remember everything, sir."

"Smith seems to be able to do so," said the department manager, as he moved away.

That remark about knowing one's goods struck deep in the mind of the listening Smith. He had already a very good knowledge of the laces that he had to sell, but he went to the department manager and said:

"I would like your permission to cut a small sample from every one of the laces in the department."

"What do you want of them?"

"I want to take the samples home and study them evenings. I want if possible, to become so familiar with every make and pattern of lace that I could tell it by touch in the dark."

"Take the samples," was the brief reply.

After a few weeks of patient evening study, aided by the use of a microscope, Smith discovered that he knew three times as much about laces as he had ever expected to know. Out of his savings he bought a powerful hand magnifying glass which he carried with him daily to the store. By degrees he became able to demonstrate to customers the relative values of the different laces. The department manager looked on approvingly and added all the information in his power.

આ

At the end of the second year Brown's salary remained at six dollars. Smith's pay had been increased to

ten.

"Favoritism!" snapped Brown. "I wonder, Fred, why the manager can't see anything in me. I work as hard as you do."

"Not in the evenings," was the quiet answer. "I spend most of my evening time studying the laces. Why don't you do the same? You're a good fellow, and willing. Come up to the house with me to-night and after supper I'll show you some of the things I've been studying."

"Can't do it," replied Brown; "got an engagement. There was an evening high school course in chemistry. Deciding that he knew as much as he was able to learn about the fibers of every kind of lace sold in the store, Smith decided to take up chemistry in the hope that he could learn something more about laces. The course was elementary, but he applied himself with so much diligence that the professor soon began to take an especial interest in him. Then the young man explained what he wanted most to learn.

"Stop a few minutes every evening after the class is dismissed," advised the professor. "Bring samples of your laces with you and I'll see what help I can give you."

All through the winter, Smith toiled away at chemistry. He learned how to make tests of the lace fibers that were impossible with the microscope alone. One day a lot of samples of laces came in from abroad. Some of these the young man, after using his glass, considered spurious. He took them home that evening and applied the chemical tests. The next morning he reported to the department manager, a successor to the one under whom he

had first been employed, that the samples were of spurious goods.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" was the irritable retort; "these samples are all right."

But Smith, saying nothing, went to the superintendent and made a statement of what he had discovered.

"How on earth do you know this?" demanded the young man's superior.

"Professor Boeckmann has been instructing me in chemical tests of thread fibers for several months."

"I'll think this matter over," said the superintendent, briefly. He did, even to the extent of communicating with the professor. The result was that the new department manager was dismissed and Smith, after some urging, took his place, at a comparatively low beginning salary of thirty dollars a week. Brown, who was now receiving eight dollars a week, had begun to feel positive dislike for his more successful friend.

Three more years went by. Smith drew forty-five dollars a week, while his erstwhile friend had gone up to ten. The buyer for the lace department, who had grown old and wished to retire, was about to make his last trip to Ireland and France for laces. He requested that Smith should go with him.

"You always have been lucky," growled Brown, when he heard the news. "You're off for a fine trip abroad, with all expenses paid, and I suppose you're going to have your salary raised?”

"Pitch in and study, Jack," whispered Smith. "I've three days yet before I sail. Come around and I'll get you started."

"Sorry, but I can't, old fellow. I've got engagements for every night this week."

Two months later Smith returned to the store, strolled

through it, and went up to the lace counter. Brown stood there, looking most disconsolate. His face brightened up, however, as he saw his friend approaching.

"Fred," he whispered, excitedly, "I guess you can do me a big favor. I've been discharged. The fellow they put in your place has told me I'm through Saturday. Said a man who had been here so long and who was only worth ten dollars a week wasn't worth keeping. suppose, though, enviously, "you've had another

I

raise of pay?"

"Yes. Mr. Stallman, the foreign lace buyer, has retired, and I've been put in his place. I'm to begin with four thousand a year and traveling expenses."

Brown threw up his hands in a gesture that expressed a variety of emotions.

"Favoritism!" he muttered, scowling at the ceiling.

BY THEODORE T. MUNGER

E have so long been told that we are a thrifty people that we go on assuming it as a fact without fresh examination. Thrift is more apt to be a phase than a characteristic of the life of a nation, a habit than a principle. That we are thrifty because our ancestors were no more follows than that the ship that sails out of the harbor stanch and tight will be sound when she returns from a long and stormy voyage. It was not from any instinct or natural trait that our forefathers were thrifty, but from a moral necessity. The Celt is naturally thrifty. The Anglo-Saxon is thrifty only when there is some strong motive behind or before him; he is thrifty for a reason; and this certainly is the best foundation of the virtue.

The early settlers found themselves here in circumstances out of keeping with their characters, — rich in one and poor in the other, and so set about overcoming the discrepancy. Their large and noble conceptions of man required that he should be well housed and cared for. Dr. Holmes says: "I never saw a house too fine to shelter the human head. Elegance fits man." When Nero built his palace of marble and ivory and gold, he said, "This is a fit house for a man."

The scientists tell us that environment and life stand in a relation of necessity; they certainly stand in the

1 From "On the Threshold," by permission of Harriet K. Munger and Houghton Mifflin Company. Copyright, 1885.