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January ig, 1910. THE PRESBYTERIi
What do you think? Mamma's biscuit cutter was
larger than Polly's piece of dough!
"I think you will have to borrow grandmother's
thimble for a biscuit cutter," said mamma. A thimble
biscuit cutter! Was there ever anything so funny
as that? Polly laughed about it all the way upstairs
to grandmother's room; but, when she told grandmother
what she wanted, grandmother did not think
it was strange at all.
"I used to make thimble biscuits when I was a littip
crirl 99 clip cnlrl o *-? A LA - ' '1
? ?<>v qbiu, mm anc niciuc iitisie to get tne
thimble out of her work-bag for Polly.
Grandmother's thimble was made of shining gold ;
and oh! what a fine biscuit cutter it made. The biscuits
were as small and as round as buttons, and
Polly cut enough for grandmother and papa and mamma
and Brother Ned and herself, each to have one
for supper that night.
"I think it is fun to make thimble biscuit," she said
as she handed them round in her own blue saucer;
and, if you don't believe she was right, make some
yourself, and see.?Maud Lindsay, in Kindergarten
Review.
THE TARDY.
Little Bessie Berry was almost always late for
school. She was almost always late for everything.
It wasn't because she had to run errands or mind
the baby, but because she was an "In-a-minute"
and a "Pretty-soon" and an "After-a-while" little girl,
who liked to dilly-dally better than anything else in
the world.
There were some other children in Bessie's room
who were often tardy, too, so the teacher began to
wonder what she could do. And cr>m-i
.. " vuglll \J 1
something. She went to the seedsman and bought
some seeds. They were aster seeds, in paper packets.
"Listen, children!" said the teacher. "How many
of you ever had a flower garden ?"
Bessie had; most of the children in Bessie's class
had.
Then the teacher said a nice thing. "These seeds
are for you,?one little packet for each one in this
room.
Here Bessie raised her hand. "Please, may I pass
'em ?"
But the teacher shook her head. "One for each
one in the room," she went on, "who isn't tardy a single
time this month."
That wasn't all. They would plant the seeds and
after a while have flowers. And then the seedsman
would give a prize to the boy or the girl who had the
finest flowers. It was really two prizes.
^>o the children looked at the seeds longingly and
promised that they wouldn't be tardy one single time.
And some weren't. But Bessie was?four times!
The next month was April, and the tardy ones tried
J , again. Bessie was tardy twice. They were to try
once more in May.
"Try, try, again," said Bessie's papa. So she tried
again. And mamma helped. Every morning and afternoon
she said "Seeds!" when she kissed her little
girl good-bye. Bessie said "Seeds" over and over, all
the way to school, and didn't dilly-dally once.
\N OF THE SOUTH 75
And on the last day of May she took a packet of
seeds home. Bessie and her mamma planted them
rigiu on. l ney didn't dilly-dally about it all. Bessie
hoped she might win the seedsman's prize;
But it was late and dry, and the seeds didn't come
up very quickly. Only one seedling grew. Papa called
it a dilly-dally flower. It just wouldn't catch up with
Clara Bell's across the street. But Clara Bell had
won her seeds in March.
When the day for the flower show was nearly come,
some of Bessie's friends had big blue and white asters
in their gardens, and Bessie had one fine aster plant,
with hard green knots at the top.
Every morning she counted the days that were left,
until at la<st a Kit r^f r '
ii.v. .iiiuncu m one oi tne knobs.
But then there was only one day left.
So everybody, even Bessie, knew that it would be
a tardy aster, just as Bessie had been a tardy little
girl.
When at last the day for awarding the prize came,
it was a very, very sad Bessie Berry who stood in the
back garden looking down at a tardy aster, while all
of her little friends, with hands full of punctual asters,
went to the flower show.
Wasn't it too bad? But it must have been a good
lesson for Bessie, for she doesn't dilly-dally anv morr.
?Little Folks.
WHAT MAKES A GREAT LIFE.
Do not try to do a great thing; you may waste all
your life waiting for the opportunity which may never
come. But since little things arc always claiming your
attention, do them as they come, from a great motive,
for the glory of God, to win his smile of approval and
to do good to men. It is harder to plod on in obscurity
acting thus, than to stand on the high places of the
field, within the view of all, and do deeds of valor at
which rival armies stand still to gaze. But no such
act goes without the swift recognition and the ultimate
recompense of Christ. To fulfill faithfully the duties
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wi ;um sLanon; 10 use to the uttermost the gifts ot
your ministry; to bear chafing and trivial irritations
as martyrs bore the pillory and stake; to find the one
noble trait in people who try to molest you; to put
the kindest construction on unkind acts and words;
to love with the love of God even the unthankful and
evil; to be content to be a fountain in the midst of a
wild valley of stones, nourishing a few lichens and wild
flowers, or now and again a thirsty sheep; and to do
this always and not for the praise of man, but for the
sake of God?this makes a great life.?F. B. Meyer.
vv nm j. riiii x AKU JPUK.
Mary F. Butts.
What are your hands for?little hands?
"To do each day the Lord's commands."
What are your feet for?busy feet?
"To run on errands true and fleet."
What are your lips for?rosy sweet?
"To speak kind words to all I meet."
What are your eyes for?starry bright?
"To be the mirrors of God's light."