After a while Fred paused for breath. On the bank of the pond he saw a schoolmate, who was watching the sport with wistful eyes.
"I declare, boys," said Fred to Harry and Phil, "I don't believe that fellow has had a chance to skate this winter. He hasn't any skates, I'm sure."
"Skates?—not he. A good many days, I'm afraid, he don't get any dinner," answered Harry, as he finished a splendid pigeon-wing.
"Well"—Fred smothered a little sigh as he spoke, but he spoke bravely—"I think it's mean for us to have so much fun while he has none, and here goes! I say, Dan," he shouted to the boy on the bank, "come, take a turn on the ice. I'll lend you my skates awhile."
Dan needed a little urging, but the other boys, who liked their comrade none the less because he happened to be poorer than themselves, insisted, and the rest of the time he was among the skaters instead of Fred.
They all went home happier than usual, for those who do kind things are always repaid by the double delight they feel, and those who accept kindness gracefully are the happier for it too. How many of you boys and girls are enjoying the luxury of helping others along the way? We like to think that every day some of you are making the world gladder by simply doing the best you can wherever you happen to be. Do not wait for the chance to distinguish yourselves by great deeds, but seize the little opportunities as they come. It may be only amusing a fretful child, or helping a dull one to learn a hard lesson, or sewing a rip in an unlucky brother's gloves, or, as these three little fellows did, loaning a pair of skates, but believe me no unselfish action is ever done in vain.
Palmyra, New York.
I have a nice auntie in Washington, who sends me Young People every week, and I have all but the first six numbers. I was out at Shortsville this summer visiting my cousins; and while I was there we had the play given in Young People No. 92, "Mother Michel and Her Cat," and it was a great success. I was Mother Michel.
I have a toy Mr. Stubbs, sent me by a kind gentleman in Washington who had read the story of "Toby Tyler." We have three birds— But there! I must not write any more, for if I do I fear my letter will be too long to publish, and I want it to be printed, as I would like to surprise my auntie. I am glad Mr. Otis is having so good a time with his little yacht.
Mina L. C.