“MOTHER," said George, "the text on my card today is, 'Prove all things;' doesn't prove mean to try?"

"Yes, that is one meaning," said Mrs. Dill. "Why do you ask?"

"They talk so much to us boys in the Temperance Club about never even tasting wine or beer, or any such thing. Now, how are we going to prove it, I'd like to know?"

Mrs. Dill smiled a little. She was used to hearing questions from George. "I think you have already proved that those things are bad. You know what you told me about Harry Carr's poor home, and his cold, bare feet. You said it was all because his father drank beer."

"Yes, but that wasn't proving it myself. How do I know that it would hurt me?"

"You proved that it made men wild once, I am sure, when a drunken man struck you. You felt it that time in your own person. But, George, you might say the same thing about any poison. You believe that Paris green kills if taken into the stomach, do you not?"

"Why, yes, of course." 

"But why not say,' I haven't proved it for myself. How do I know that it would hurt me?'"

George laughed.

"I see," said he; "there are some things that we must prove without touching them, if we want to keep out of the fire. I'll remember that." 

S. S. Advocate.