Johnnie and he were not chums, but, somehow, when they had the whole school to themselves they couldn't sit on forms ten yards apart—it seemed so very unsociable and unfriendly. So Will brought his slate over to Johnnie, and they were soon busily discussing the difficulties of sums and spelling.
Although Will was a good deal the older, he was not nearly so clever at sums as Johnnie, and, moreover, he was not too proud to accept the help that Johnnie rather timidly offered. They soon settled the difference between the various rows of obstinate figures, and Will laid down his slate with a sigh of relief and a grateful "Thank you, Johnnie. Now," he continued, "let's have a go at your spelling."
By this time they began to feel quite warm friends—for it is wonderful how quickly a little mutual help creates feelings of friendship. Together they went over the mis-spelt words, and, with Will to help and encourage, Johnnie soon felt quite sure that the spelling of the particular words of that morning's exercise would never trouble him again.
They had scarcely finished their work when the big school-bell sounded, and the boys all came trooping in. Will had to go back to his place, but he left a very light-hearted little boy behind him, for Johnnie and he had vowed life-long friendship, and sums and spelling seemed to have lost all their terrors for both of them.
When Johnnie arrived home from school he could talk of nothing but Will Maynard, and Will, for his part, voted Johnnie "a jolly little chap." Many a time after that day did they help each other, and when it was reported after the examination that they had both passed, each declared he must have failed without the other's help.
They are firm friends still, and are likely to remain so; and whenever a difficulty occurs, in school or out, they always tackle it together; for, as Johnnie says, "A difficulty shared is only half a difficulty."
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T'is not Fine Feathers that make Fine Birds
She was a lady with pins in her hair On a funny old Japanese fan. He was a proud bit of Chinese ware In the shape of a Mandarin man. She sighed, when she saw him appear on the shelf, For she thought of her shabby old frock. She said "Oh! I know he will scorn an old fan, As he comes of a very proud stock." The Mandarin sneered as he took a front place, But his pride had a fall when he found, That the fan was dispatched to a very grand show, For her beauty and age were renowned! So we'll leave him alone on his shelf while he thinks, With a large diminution of pride, "It is not the feathers that make the fine bird, But the worth of the bird that's inside!" Horatia Browne. |