would add to their comfort during the cold weather. Not only was the basket prepared for the children with willing hands and a grateful heart, but so thoroughly was her soul permeated with a sense of love to God for his thoughtful watchcare over her and her loved ones, that she felt a great desire to do something for others and in this way to manifest her gratitude. What could she do, what could she give when they were so much in debt and had so little? She could think of nothing to give and no one so needy as to require her help.

She went to sleep one night thinking, O if she only had something to give! Others had done so much for her. The Lord had done so much for her.

That night the Lord gave her a dream. She had a neighbor who had a terrible sore on his face, and it was kept covered with a piece of soft cloth. This cloth needed to be changed often, and when one piece of cloth was taken off it was fit only to be burned. In her dream she saw this poor, afflicted man sitting near the stove, and, as he took off a cloth he washed it in a basin of water and hung it to dry ready for use again, and his wife said, "We have used the last soft rags in the house and I don't know where we can get any more."

The dream seemed so real that she thought of it all day at her work, and when she went home at night she gathered up a roll of old muslin and went down to her neighbor's and sure enough, there sat the sufferer washing the cloths that he took from his face. His wife said, "He won't let me wash them for him, and we have nothing more to tear up."

"The Lord showed me what you needed and I have brought you some," she answered.

How their hearts were cheered with knowing that the Lord had remembered them and put it in this good sister's heart to bring them what they so much needed. And she was more thankful than she could tell, because the Lord had answered the desire of her heart and had shown her where, even in her poverty, she could give that which would do good.

Do we sometimes forget that the Lord sees all that we do and knows all that is in our hearts?

Let this dream help us to remember that he does know and let it teach us also that it is pleasing to him for us to wish to do good to others, and that there is no one but has it in his power to do something to add to the sum of human happiness, if he earnestly desires to do so. To-day the poor sufferer is in the paradise of God, free from all pain and sorrow, but so long as the world revolves on its axis there will be sickness, poverty, and suffering, and those who minister to its relief are ministering to Christ. The children of the Sabbath school have not forgotten the blessed lessons learned last year, but are preparing to repeat them and to help in spreading the glad song the angels sang of "Peace on earth good will to men.

Let us look into just one other home before we say good-bye to our readers and close this chapter of pleasant reminiscences of the past to turn our face resolutely to the future. Some distance from the town in a snug little home just at the edge of a pleasant wood, lived an aged couple. In summertime when the foliage was green the birds sang among the branches, and the soft breezes rustled the leaves, making the place very attractive. But now the snow lay on the ground and the cold north wind moaned pitifully among the naked limbs. The brook was frozen over, and only an occasional passer by interrupted the solitude or enlivened the scene.

To add to the loneliness of this couple, who had only recently come from a distant home in the west, the husband was sick, and they both felt that the sickness was most likely unto death, and while his hope was bright and he had no fears of death, he yet sorrowed to leave his companion alone, among strangers. Because of the distance from town not many of the Saints had visited them, and as the happy Christmas time drew near, they both felt their loneliness more than ever. God, who knows all things and without whose notice not a sparrow falls to the ground, put it into the hearts of one of the Sunday school

classes (a class of young ladies) to remember this couple. A basket was prepared filled with delicacies to tempt the appetite and to this was added the cloth to make the wife a new dress together with some other small tokens of kindly feeling and good will.

When the door was opened in answer to their knock and the nature of their errand was made known, the sick man broke down completely and wept tears of thankfulness. "I shall be more content to leave you now," he said to his wife; "for this proves to me that we are among those who will be true friends to you when I am gone."

Dear readers, if we will but open our eyes to see and our hearts to feel, upon every hand the opportunities of doing good are found. Care and trouble seem out of harmony with the glad Christmas time, and when we meet them at this season, they seem heavier to bear. How precious then is sympathy, a word of cheer, a kind act! They are like the balm of Gilead to the sore heart and wounded spirit. Lift up your eyes and look about you. Consider where most is needed the little which you may feel able to do, then go to and do it with a glad heart and a willing mind as unto the Lord, and he will surely reward you.

One other accident we recall, a home where a class of very little girls went with their teacher. The mother was in bed with a tiny baby by her side, not yet a week old, and three or four little ones were playing about the room. The play was stopped, and with shy looks the children gathered around the little girls, taking from them the contents of the basket which had been prepared especially for them, and showing by every look and action what a welcome visit it

was.

And we cannot forbear mentioning one other, a pale, sad-faced little woman whose life was circumscribed by poverty, but far worse than poverty, was blighted and chilled by the want of loving appreciation upon the part of one who stood to her in the relation of a husband, but who in his overbearing egotism was any

Of peace on earth, good will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound

The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearthstones of a continent,
And made forlorn

The households born
Of peace on earth, good will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said:
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!"
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead: nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men!"

God speed the day when this prophecy of

"The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men!" shall become an accomplished, a divine reality. But until then may we be found laborers together with God in helping to lighten the burdens of others and cheer them on to victory.

FRANCES.

prised, for these men, though abrupt in manner, were very kind hearted, and seemed to regard little girls about as dolls.

He yoked the cattle together and said, "Now let me see what you can do with them!" (How I wondered if the "boy" was looking out at the window, but I did not look up for fear he was.) They had to be turned around before going out of the yard, so I very nervously touched the nigh ox across the nose with the whipstock, and the off one over the back with the lash, saying at the same time, "Back, Duke; whoa, haw, Diamond." They They did my bidding, and I conducted them out into the road and felt not a little elated at my accomplishments as I heard Mr. West say, "Well, I swon," and by this time my ears were burning as well as my cheeks.

There was quite a steep pitch of a hill to go down, so he stood looking after me to see if the team got away from me, but I had driven oxen down hill before, and kept the long whip stock bumping across their faces as indications for them to go steadily.

And now, by way of explanation I will add that when we had a farm horse, father would send me home from the dyke, where he was making up the hay, to catch the horse, hitch him up to the hay wagon and bring it to the dyke for a load of hay.

(He

did not use any lines when hauling hay, but taught the horse to be governed by "haw," and "gee.") When all was ready I would get a stick and standing against the ladder or rack in the front end of the wagon would navigate the horse to the dyke. There was a big gate to go through, a short turn, a strip of straight road, down a bill, across a causeway, another short turn a little way along the dyke road, then through the bars into the hayfield.

And now, does the reader wonder when such were among my duties that in my play I should sometimes merit the name of "Tomboy," because I liked outdoor play the best?

School closed before the summer was over, and both the house and location were condemned. A new and more commodious house was to be

built on an allotted piece of ground adjoining father's farm.

When there was no school, there were so many girls at home that there was danger of the work being left undone, or of the burden of it falling altogether on one, unless there was a regular system adopted. Consequently Sophia and I were to take it "day about" in the kitchen. This did not prove satisfactory for many reasons, so we were given it "week about," and so far as our duties extended, we were held responsible for the results. Our duty was to get the meals, wash the dishes, and keep the kitchen, pantry, and cupboards in order. Eliza assisted each in turn by wiping the dishes and by keeping plenty of potatoes washed and ready for use. If the work was not done well, we were accounted "poor housekeepers" and duly corrected and instructed. We were told what each meal should consist of, but we were not told when to set about getting it, and if we were tardy, we received the disapprobation of our parents. Mother was, as a rule, punctual with her meals, and the stomachs and appetites of the household had become adjusted to a certain hour, and no one liked to go hungry. I was two and a half years younger than Sophia and, of course, had to have much more showing and telling how to do this and that and more help to get it on the table. Still it was called "my dinner." Besides getting the meals the weekly housekeeper had to make her own bread, and, if she had time, she took lessons in pastry cooking.

In our "sitting down" week each one had the room she slept in to care for, her own darning and mending to do, much of the plain sewing on her own clothes, and some knitting always ready for "catching-up" work. But that week the work was not so exactly specified as the work in the kitchen.

Sometimes these kitchen weeks became very irksome to me, and the only way I could induce myself to get through with it was, to play "house" in my mind and to pretend it was all my own. But hard as this task seemed at times, it was the best, and perhaps the only way of making girls

self-reliant and capable. It must not be thought that Sophia and I did the bulk of the work. Ours was but a small portion of it. There was the heavy washing and ironing each week, taking care of the milk and making butter, often weaving and spinning; always making and mending, the largest portion of the house to keep clean, and the extra cooking to do, caring for the little ones, and making and weeding the garden. The smaller children had their allotted portion also. It was seldom indeed that an idle person was found in one household. "All strings drawing" a neigh bor used to say when she came in with her knitting to sit an hour or so. I was not aware then that there was any merit in it, but looking back now, I admire mother's tact and can perceive that she possessed rare qualities of generalship to keep each one of her little army at her post of duty, so that all were kept busy without interfering with each other. Yet it must not be thought that there never was any friction in the family, that we did not have our days of fretfulness, of disagreeing, and of childish trials, as well as all other natural children.

How I dreaded Saturdays! There seemed to be no end to the work that had to be done on that day. But if

"Santa Claus" or any other night rover had gone through the house on Saturday nights after all were in bed, I think he would have enjoyed the tour. He would have found a very white kitchen floor and table, chairs that were well scoured, where the paint was off, rounds and all, a black shiny stove, and, against the wall, a row of polished shoes, perhaps seven or eight pairs, headed by father's "Wellingtons," dishes arranged in order on the cupboard shelves, which shelves had been washed so much there was scarcely a vestige of paint

left on them.

In the pantry all was as clean and orderly as hands could make it, wholesome rows of pies on the shelves, and a crock of ginger-cakes in one corner, and as much of the Sunday dinner as could be cooked the day before, was prepared so that to boil the teakettle and some potatoes (which

were all cleaned and ready) and to set the table was all that would be required when we came home from church.

Up stairs in the spare bedroom would be found the entire Sunday suit of each girl put by itself in so many little fluffy mounds all over the spare bed, and sometimes on chairs too, all ready for Sunday morning, so there would be as little running to and fro as possible. Yet, with all of these precautions, it seemed impossible to avoid more or less scurrying about on Sunday morning where there were so many to get ready, and little ones to be waited on and a mile to walk to Sunday school by nine o'clock in the morning.

I do not remember of a Sunday school when mother did not teach a class, so the whole family attended, baby and all. And O, how tired and hungry we would be when we got home after preaching! But we all liked to go to Sunday school, and the afternoons were pleasant to remember. Sophia and I would take our Testaments and Sunday school book and repair to some quiet nook, perhaps in our own room, perhaps out under a tree or in the barn on the hay (if we could slip away from the younger children), and there study our Sunday school lesson awhile first (for sometimes a half chapter was given to be committed to memory). and then read the new Sunday school book.

The order of taking week about with the work was kept up when all were at home, but that was not always the case. My time for work in the house and for school too, was much interrupted by having to help often out of doors and by going from place to place by request of neighbors, staying a few days here and a week or so there, as necessity seemed to demand. They would come to mother with, "Mrs. Davison, you have so many girls you would never miss one. Let me have this one to help me with the light work and to take care of the baby."

At first it was only about the immediate neighborhood, but soon they came from a greater distance and