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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.