I want to tell you about a boy who was very fond of stories of adventure. He liked especially to read about the old knights, and how they fought with giants, and killed dragons, and rescued beautiful ladies. One day he was talking about it with his mother, and he asked whether there were no knights any longer in the world, and if he couldn’t be a knight and kill dragons. “Couldn’t I, mother?” he asked. “Wait awhile,” answered his mother, “and I will tell you.”
That very morning our lad, whose name was Sam, went with his mother to market. On the way they saw an old woman, who had let fall a basket of apples in the middle of the muddy street. She was nervously trying to pick them up before any cart should come along. Sam was walking by when his mother said, “Kill your dragon, Sam.” “What dragon!” asked Sam, startled. “Why, your pride, which is keeping you from helping that wrinkled old princess out there in the mud.” So Sam darted off, and helped the old woman pick up her apples.
After dinner mother was washing the dishes, and little baby Helen was troubling her by pulling on her dress, and crying. It was one of Helen’s fretful days. “Sam!” called his mother, “come quick. Here’s another princess to rescue!” “Who?” asked Sam, running in. “Don’t you see?” answered his mother. “Here am I, attacked by the giants Worry and Work and Hindrance. Come to my help.” So Sam took little Helen, and played with her while his mother washed the dishes.
“Sam,” said his father when he came home that night,—Sam’s father was a deacon and led the Wednesday evening prayer meeting that week,— “I think you are old enough to say just a word in prayer meeting. It will help some of the other boys and girls to take part; yes, and some of the older folks, too. Won’t you repeat a short verse, if I help you find one?” Sam hesitated, and then he caught his mother’s eye. “Brave for others, be a knight,” that loving glance seemed to say, and Sam took part in the prayer meeting that night.