RAISING MISSIONARY TOMATOES.



AT a Sabbath-school convention in Murphy's, California, a lad about fourteen years of age came to the superintendent and said,

"I've got some missionary money for you."

"Who gave it to you? "

"Oh, I earned it all myself," was his reply, and his bright eyes shone with joy.

"How did you earn it? "

"Last spring my mother had more tomato plants than she wanted, and I asked her to give me some. I planted them, and when the tomatoes were ripe I peddled them. 

At first I received three cents, then two cents, and, by-and-by, one cent, a pound. 

Here is one dollar and a half; I want it all to go to missions."

"But, Herbert, who told you to do this?"

"I told myself."

"Didn't your mother ask you to do this?"

"No; but she encouraged me."

"Are you perfectly willing that all this money should go to missions, and none of it for marbles, toys, candies, etc.?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"I guess as long as I live."

"One question more. Do you love Jesus? Have you given your heart to him?"

With a modest and serious expression on his face, he replied, "Yes, I have. 

"Ah, here was the secret: The boy turning aside from just so much play-time, from games and fun with the other boys, to work in the corner of the garden, carefully watching and tending the vines till they yielded the bright red fruit, then peddling it from house to house, because he loved Christ, his Saviour.