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For Woman’s Work.
VERNIE’S PRAYER.
A ■ ■'
’Twas the night before Christmas, long years ago,
The time wee stockings to All-
Great feathery flakes of fast-falling snow,
Covered rock and river and hill.
A little boy knelt at his mother's knee,
And this is the prayer he said:
“Dear Lord, bless mamma, and papa and me
And send me a bran-new sled.
Forgive all our sins—make me a good boy—
And I want a big plum cake—
And rubber boots—and a train of cars—
And lots more—for Christ's sake.”
Next morning dawned on a pure white world
And up with the rising sun,
Was the eager boy, when before him lay
The presents, every one.
For a moment he danced in childish glee,
Then siid, “Oh, mamma dear.
I knew I should have them, for you told me
That God, our prayers would hear.”
She pressed a kiss on his upturned face—
Her hand on his curls did lay.
While grateful thanks reached the throne of grace
For her darling’s faith that day.
Long years have passed, and the little boy
Grown to a manhood blest,
Awaits through Faith—a Nation’s joy—
His entrance into rest.
Essie M. Howell.
For Woman’s Work.
PROVIDENCE HELP.
AY, NELLIE, come here,” said Ted
Hood, as he put down his hatchet
I with which he was splitting kind
lings in the wood shed one bleak
s
November afternoon.
Nellie set down her basket of chips, and
went over to where Ted stood. He held
up a leaf from a calendar and pointed with
a dirty, stubby finger to the twenty-fifth of
December. “*See that?” he said, with a
very sober look at Nellie, out of his great
brown eyes. “That’s Christmas, that is, and
it’s only four weeks from next Saturday.”
Nellie looked from the date to Ted.
“Well Ted, what about it? Christmas
don’t make much difference to us now.
When papa was alive, we used to have a
good time Christmas, but mamma has all
she can do to earn something necessary,
without buying things for Christmas,” and
Nellie gave a long sigh.
“Don’t I know that as well as you do?”
asked Ted, indignantly. “But just wait
till I get through. lam going to see if I
can’t earn something extra. I’m getting
pretty big now,” and he drew up his eleven
year old stature, and tried to assume a
manly air.
“But how can you?” queried Nellie.
“I have lots of time after school. I can
run errands, and hold horses, and lots of
things. I’m going to try, anyway.”
“I wish I could earn something, but
mamma says I need to go to school most
of. anything now; but I wonder”—and
Nellie stood looking down in a meditative
way.
“Wonder what?” asked Ted, impatient
ly.
“I wonder”—repeated Nellie, “I do be
lieve I’ll try right away,” and off she
went, around the house, and out of the
yard. Ted gazed after her, and as the
slamming of the gate told him she was
gone, he muttered something about
“crank,” and picking up his hatchet went
on with his kindlings. He had finished
the kindlings, carried in a good lot of wood,
and fed the chickens: then cleaned himself
up, and gone into the sitting-room where
his mother was working on some gloves,
before Nellie came back.
She burst into the room with a shout,
and threw a shining ten cent piece into
her mother’s lap, then went whirling
around the room on tiptoe, and humming
a tune.
“Hurrah, Nell!” shouted Ted, as he
snatched up the dime and tossed it into the
air, catching it as it came down, “Where’d
you get it?” he queried.
Mrs. Hood looked on in mute surprise;
finally she asked Nellie where she had
been so long, and where she got the dime.
Nellie came to a halt at last, and settled
into the big rocker near the fire.
“I’ll tell you,” she said. “I heard Mrs.
Clark, the dressmaker just over on the cor
ner, saying, as I came home from school to
day. that she needed some one to go er
rands—as she was so busy now, that the ap
prentice girls were needed in the shop.
So, I just went down and asked her if she
would let me do errands after school.
And do you know she was just delighted,
and wanted me to take a dress up to Brok
ton street at once; and I went, and when I
got back she gave me the dime,” and, with
a sage nod of the head, Nellie went on rock
ing.
“Good enough ; good act, Nell 1” said
Ted.
“But Nellie,” said her mother, in are
proving voice, “you ought not to go off so
without my permission, and I don’t want
you to earn money ; I can get along, and
when you are older I shall be glad of your
help.”
“But mamma,” remonstrated Nell “I so
want to money for Christmas, and I am
almost thirteen, and well, and strong ; it
won’t hurt me one bit to go errands for
Mrs. Clark; can’t I?” and Nellie went and
put her arms about her mother, fondly
kissing her.
“Well,” said her mother, “I suppose you
can ; there is no harm in it; it you don’t
stay out after dark?
“Pooh,” said Ted, “that need not hinder
her, for I can go ’long with her if it is
late.”
“All right,” replied Mrs. Hood, as she
waxed a new thread, and so it was settled;
and Ted got into the pantry and whisper
ed any number of plans—as Nell went in
and out, setting the table for tea.
The days went swiftly on towards
Christmas. Nightly Ted and Nellie held
consultations over the wood pile, and in
the pantry, and on the stairs—their moth
er too busy to pay much attention to what
they said, or did, as long as they were not
doing anything wrong.
Ted carried a paper route in the morn
ing, so that he had no time before school
for any extra work ; but in these days he
was looking about for something to do after
school, until dark. He held horses, and
ran errands, and received five or ten cents
at a time. Once an old gentleman inquired
the way to an uptown street, of the man
who kept the grocery at the corner nearest
Ted’s home ; Ted happened to be standing
by and offered to show the way. It was
quite a distance, and when the street was
reached, it was several blocks to their des
tination. When the number was found
Ted ran up and rang the bell, and was
turning to go, when a restraining hand
was laid upon his shoulder, and the gentle
man gave him half a dollar. “That is too
much sir,” said Ted.
“I like to see a boy kind to an old man,”
replied the man, “and I wish you to have
it.”
Here the door was opened, and Ted
thanked the kind old man, flew down the
steps, and sped towards home with a light
heart.
The sum he gathered was still small,
and Christmas was fast approaching.
Nellie had been busy, going about with
big paper boxes and bundles for the dress
maker, often late, so Ted had to go with
her. Not that it was so very late, really,
but the days were so short, it grew dark
early.
“Say Nell, how much you got,” said
Ted, the Friday night before Christmas. “I
got four dollars and ninety cents. I wish
it’d snow like sixty to-night, and stop in
the morning. To-morrow’s Saturday, and
wouldn’t I just make that old snow shovel
fly though ? guess I would,” and he swung
his arms in imitation of the work.
“I have only three dollars and twenty
cents; but to-morrow is Saturday, and all
next week is holiday—we might make a
good deal yet. I want to get that soft
gray shawl for mamma, that is hanging
down in Chapman’s window. It is marked
four dollars and fifty cents. I think I can
do so; it is not Christmas until Saturday.”
“Well, I’m going to buy some flour and
potatoes and meal and some turnips I
guess, and mebby some onions; then if
there’s anything left, I’ll get a nice cake
at the bakery.”
“Mo Ted, get some citron and raisins
and I’ll make a cake—it’ll be lots cheaper.”
“And better too, but can you make it?”
“Well mamma can help me by telling
me how. I can do it, lam sure.”
“Here’s your house, now don’t stay,” and
Ted leaned against the gate post and began
to whistle softly, as Nellie ran up the
walk. The servant took her into the din
ing-room, as she had a message for the
young lady whose dress she brought.
The room was elegant in the extreme;
the grate-fire, and wax candles on the
table set for dinner, gave an air of cheer
fulness that Nell quite appreciated.
The young lady came in, and after hear
ing the message, asked Nell if she would
like an apple, to which question Nell re
plied with thanks. The lady took up an
apple, then, half turning, asked if she had
any brothers or sisters? Nell replied that
she had a brother. Then the lady took up
another apple, hesitated a moment, then
laying them both down, told Nell to wait a
moment, and went into another room. She
soon came back with a small basket in her
hand, which she gave to the butler—who
was at the sideboard—with a few low-spoken
words. Presently he brought it back, full
of nuts and apples, with a big bunch of
white grapes on top. Taking it from him,
the lady gave it to Nell, and kindly smil
ing an answer to Nell’s delighted thanks,
took her to the door and let her out
herself.
Nell flew down the walk, calling softly
“Teddy, Teddy,” as she neared the gate
and Ted’s whistle. The latter pi event
ing Ted from hearing her call. But he
heard the gate, and turned as Nell came
out.
She held it under his eyes, and Ted gave
a long, low whistle, “Yours?” he asked. “Yes
mine, wasn’t she just too sweet! And the
pretty basket is mine too; won’t mamma
be pleased with it?”
“I should say I Let me carry it, and let’s
get home; it’s late and it’s not very warm.”
They trudged on in silence for a short dis
tance—then Ted broke forth, “I’ll tell you;
let’s we keep this for Christmas; they’ll
keep and we can hide it, and it will be such
a surprise for mamma—so much nicer than
anything we can get;” and he held the
basket up as they passed a lamp.
“Just the thing, Teddie ; lets,” and Nell
drew a long breath of satisfaction, and
brought her hands together. According
ly, when they reached home, the basket of
fruit was carefully hidden away.
At eight o’clock it was snowing, and
Ted’s heart gave a leap as he saw it, for he
thought of what he could earn cleaning
sidewalks in the morning.
Nearly all night long the snow was fall
ing-great, soft, white flakes, with no wind—
and when day began to break, Ted had his
chores done and, with his big comforter
wrapped over his ears and about his neck,
and warm mittens on his hands, he shoul
dered his snow shovel and started out. The
snow had fallen about eight inches deep,
and had almost ceased. It was deep enough
to make shoveling necessary, but not deep
enough to make it very hard work to clear
it away.
The grocery man at the corner gave
him the first job, and when it was done
gave him a quarter. • That pleased Ted and
cheered him up, giving him courage to go
on. He rang many bells, and had many
rebuffs, before he found another job; but at
last he came to a large house with large
grounds about it, and many broad flag
walks. Ted knew the place well, so he went
up to the side door and, ringing the bell,
waited for sometime for the door to be
opened. At last he heard the bolt drawn,
and a boy of his own age appeared.
When Ted asked if he could clean the snow
away, he ran down a long hall and around a
corner, and Ted heard him say. “So little,
gran’pa, not bigger’n I be; do let him. It’s
so hard for a little feller like that,” and
then the boy appeared, leading a tall gray
haired old gentleman, with a kind face,
towards the door.
There was a sort of queer look about the
corner of his mouth, but he talked in a
very business-like way about clearing the
walks, and told Ted he might do it. So
he set to work in a very energetic way and
soon had the snow piling up beside the
walks. The boy came out after awhile
and made friends, boy-fashion, and Ted told
him, a bit at a time, his name, where he
lived, about his mother, and how he and
Nell were trying to raise their Christmas
money. Johnnie Templeton, the boy,
was interested in the story, and thought
Ted quite a hero; which he did not hes
itate to say, in the usual democratic style
of children.
The walks were many and broad, and it
was many hours before Ted had them
cleaned, but at last they were all done, and
the old gentleman gave Ted a dollar. He
had fairly earned it, and he went homeward
tired and hungry, as it was now too late
to look for more to do.
The next week flew by on swift-wings,
and Friday night found Nell and Ted in
the sitting room, arranging things on the
table, during a brief absence of their moth
er.
Ted brought in package after package,
from the woodshed, and some down from
his own room, while Nell brought down
several parcels from her room. 'When they
had things all arranged to their satisfaction,
they set out a table for supper, and the
precious basket, given to Nell by the young
lady, was set in the center of the board ;
also the cake Nell had made—which did
her great credit.
They had just finished, when their mother
came in, very cold and tired—for it was a
bitter night out of doors. Ted drew the big
rocker to the fire and seated his mother
in it, then dropped onto his knees and un
buttoned her shoes, and slipped on a warm
pair of new slippers, which quite surprised
her. Meanwhile Nell had taken her hat
and shawl and put them away.
Impatiently the two children waited un
til their mother should rest a little, then
they took each a hand and led her to where
they had piled their gifts, which she
had not noticed—as that part of the room
was dark.
How her tired heart rejciced at the sight
of that piled up table! There was a big
sack of flour in the middle, and a smaller
bag of meal; a big basket of apples and an
other of turnips stood at the side of the ta
ble ; then, about, were piled packages.
One was tea, and one was coffee, some
sugar, and a jug of syrup; then Mrs.
Hood took up a paper parcel, large and
light, and soft, and when she opened it, out
came the nice, soft, gray shawl Nell had
bought, and the children would not let her
look at another thing until she had tried
it on, and looked in the glass, and told
them over and over again, how nice and
warm it seemed. The next bundle was
marked “Ted” in big letters, and out came
a nice book, (Ted liked to read,) a ball, and
some nice marbles in a very handsome bag
which Noll had made for them.
“I tell you Nell, you’re a regular
brick, you are,” shouted Ted. “I never
mistrusted you’d get me anything. Ain’t
she a daisy ma ?”
All this time Nell was undoing a pack
age marked with her name, she had discov
ered about the time Ted undid his. Now
she held a pretty,warm hood with handsome
ribbons, and a beautiful Christmas card,
and said “How could you Ted; I never ex
pected anything.”
“Nor I,” said Ted.
“Nor I,” said mamma.
“Nor I,” said Nell; over again.
“Hooray,” shouted Ted.
“My dear helpful darlings,” fairly sob
bed Mrs Hood, as she put her arms, one
around each, and drew them both into a
close embrace. “I have very little to give
you my dears,” she said, as she went to a
cupboard and took out two parcels. Ted’s
held some mittens, and so did Nell’s; and
again the oh’s! and ah’s! broke forth; and
just then a loud ring at the door hushed
their voices, as Mrs. Hood took the lamp
and went to open the door. At the step stood
a lovely toboggan, loaded with groceries, and
a box. Ted grabbed the toboggan rope and
drew it into the house. Outside yet, was
something; a dozen sacks of coal, a barrel
of apples, and one of potatoes. But Mrs.
Hood must close the door and go to Ted,
who was shouting ata great rate. Ontopot
everything was a large card which read:
“Providence helps ihose who help
THEMSELVES.
The toboggan load was groceries,
all but the box; this they quickly
ascertained. Then Mrs. Hood had Ted
leave it, to get the apples and potatoes down
cellar, so that they would not freeze; this
he did, with a neighbor’s help.
The box contained dress goods for Nell
and her mother, flannel and hosiery for
them all, and a suit for Ted, besides some
books and games—and the toboggan was a
beauty. Mrs. Hood could think of no one
who would be likely to send the things.
“Its Providence help” said Ted. “So it is,
bless the boy,” said his mother.
We know that Providence sent it, the
Templeton sleigh and coachman brought
it—but the Hood’s did it.
Imogene E. Johnson.
CARE AND DRESS OF INFANTS.
Infants, when first ushered into this world,
should be handled as little as possible. If
taken up every time they make a move or
whimper, they will soon learn that it is
the way to draw attention to them, and
soon insist on being held the greater part
of the time, or else there will be a general
rumpus. They should be bathed gently
every morning, and fed at regular intervals,
about two hours apart at first—increasing
the time between meals as they grow older.
Do not put them on a bottle unless necessa
ry, for the mother’s milk is their natural
food, and should always be given them—
unless found to do more harm than good,
as is sometimes the case. If the child does
not grow as it should, then a change' should
be made, but care should be taken in the
choice of milk—a new milch cow serving
the purpose best.
A young baby should sleep the greater
part of the time. If they worry or cry a
good deal, you iqay be sure that something
is wrong with them. Perhaps their cloth
ing is too tight, or has become wrinkled.
Loosen and smooth it out, and if that does
no good, perhaps they have the colic. I
find that home remedies, such as catnip tea
or a little grated nutmeg steeped and
sweetened, are preferable to medicines—
unless something serious has hold of them;
and then a doctor should be called, for one
doesn’t care to trust themselves in such a
case.
Flannel should be worn summer and
winter, unless it irritates the skin, and then
thin cotton can be placed next to their
bodies, and the flannel worn over that.
But when a child gets through cutting its
first teeth, I do not think flannel necessary
in the warm summer weather. I find that
it makes them fretful, and that, by putting
on extra clothing when the weather changes
colder, cotton answers as well.
Waists on the skirts of infants are con
sidered better than bands, as the weight of
the clothing comes on the shoulders in
stead of the hips. The clothing should be
warm, but as light as possible. When they
begin to kick, and want their feet out, they
should be put into short clothes, so as to
have free use of their limbs. Do not try to
coax them to stand alone or bear the weight
of their bodies, for as soon as nature intends
for them to do so, they will learn of their
own accord.
They are sometimes troublesome little
creatures, but we should bear with them
kindly and patiently, for what charm would
this world have for us, with no babies or
children here to amuse us?
Mrs. G. 11. Osborn.
It is when afflictions come that the
| promises of God shine like the stars.