A simple answer, but one in which a great truth is hidden.
Are there not, in these hard times, some children who might learn the "fun," or rather the blessing, of giving?
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Eastern Travel.
On we file in a winding Caravan, Caravan made of children and chairs. Bold Arabs are we, Adventurers free, The chairs are our Camels: dried figs are our wares. Over the hot desert sands we are travelling, Travelling on to Cairo gates. Rugs gathered in lumps Give our Camels their humps, And our supper is made of a few dried dates. Sparingly must we drink of the waterskin, Waterskin made of a nursery jug. For the water must last Till the desert is past We must measure it out in the doll's little mug. Here's the Simoom, with the blast of a hurricane, Hurricane whirling the sand in drifts. We must lie down beside Our Camels, and hide Till the storm blows past, and the darkness lifts. Look! Yonder afar are Cairo's Minarets, Minarets glittering gold in the sun. A few leagues more And our travels are o'er, And the journey of Camel and rider is done. F. W. Home. |
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TEDDIE, THE HELPER.
"I'll give you two sovereigns for the five. It's a good price, but I mean it."
"I've told you I can't part with them," was Teddie Braham's reply to this offer of his schoolfellow, Gerald Keith, to buy his pet rabbits. "What, sell little Stripe, and Pickles, and old Brownie, and Spot, and Longears! I should be very badly off before I should do such a thing."