"Just then, a boy, about fourteen years old, who was playing near by, ran up to the old man and gently putting his hand through the man's arm, said:—'Allow me, my friend, to lead you across the street.' By this time there were three or four others watching the boy. He not only helped the old man over one crossing, but led him over another to the lower side of the street. Then he ran back to his play.
"Now this boy thought he had only done an act of kindness to that old man. But just see how much farther than that the use of his one talent went. The three boys with whom he was playing, and who had watched his kind act, were happier and better for it, and felt that they must be more careful to do little kindnesses to those about them.
"The three or four persons who stopped to watch the boy turned away with a tender smile upon their faces, ready to follow the good example of that noble boy. I am sure that I felt more gentle and loving towards every one, from what I saw that boy do.
"And then, another one that was made happy was the boy himself. For, it is impossible for us to do a kind act, or to make any one else happy, without feeling better and happier ourselves. To be good and to do good, is the way to be happy. This is our mission here in this world. Whatever talents our Master has given us, he intends that we should use them in this way."
"Tiny's Work for God." Two little girls, Leila and Tiny, were sitting, one summer day, under the tree which grew beside their home.
Both children had been quiet for a little while, when suddenly Tiny raised her blue eyes and said, "I am so happy, Leila. I do love the flowers, and the birdies, and you, and everybody so much." Then she added, in a whisper, "And I love God, who made us all so happy. Sister, I wish I could do something for him."
"Mother says if we love him, that is what he likes best of all," said Leila.
"Yes, but I do want to do something for him—something that would give me trouble. Can't you think of anything?"
Leila thought a little, and said, "Perhaps you could print a text for the flowers mother sends every week to the sick people in the hospital. They are so glad to have the flowers, and then the text might help them think about our Father in heaven."
"Oh! thank you, sister, that will be so nice! I will write—'Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not.'"