The Church

asked herself that strange, strange, big question, that sad woman's question

"Isn't there something I can do to get some money?"

At last Mrs. Bly said, clasping the little hand closer, and looking up into the thoughtful little face, "There is but one thing to be done, I suppose. Go out and get some bread for to day. We must have bread to-day."

"Yes, mamma," replied Kitty slowly, but her voice growing cheerier with every word, "we must have something to eat, mamma, or we shall be too weak to think what it is we had better do." Kitty made herself ready to go. Then she came again to the bedside.

66 Mamma," ," said she, "could we live on just bread?"

"I suppose we could just live on bread," her mother replied. "Well, mamma, I know I can get just bread."

Kitty skipped down the walk lightly-I am afraid I must say she hippity-hopped, but then people forgive almost anything to happiness, and Kitty was happy. Everybody had a pleasant smile for the little rosy hippity-hopping girl. Mr. Crane served her with a loaf, smiling when she told him she couldn't pay to-day. "And may be," said Kitty, looking up in his face, "I shall want a loaf every day this week without bringing the money, for mamma is ill: but it will be paid. I will see it's paid, Mr. Crane."

"Mamma is not well enough to take more," said Kitty.

I had Shall I give

"Ill, eh? that's bad. some vests for her. 'em to somebody else?" Kitty said " Yes," with a tremble in her voice, for she instinctively felt it a momentous matter to give her mother's work away to some. body else; work that was so difficult to get, work that barely sufficed to support them. And what if he knew she meant to make the work she was taking out?

With her loaf and her bundle Kitty started for home. On her way, not quite so skipping now, she paused before the show window of a large seed shop.

once

There were always pots of flowering plants in the window, and Mr. Hewlett, the youngest member of the firm, had more than invited Kitty in, noticing her bright, happy, longing face; and thus it happened that Kitty knew more of botany and horticulture than she did of almost anything else in the world.

This morning there was something new in the window, a long row of potted plants, with dark, handsome, evergeen leaves, spreading and sheltering, each budded and blossoming with pretty white starry flowers.

Why! those, those are strawberry plants!" Kitty cried out. Yes," said Mr. Hewlett in the they are for my wife's Christmas dinner."

door;

"Oh, oh, strawberries at Christmas! red, ripe, real strawberries in the snow-can youdo such things?"

"Oh yes, Kitty, and if you will carry home one of the pots you shall have a stem of red strawberries

for your Christmas dinner, too!"

Kitty had her arms full, but she extended them, and Mr. Hewlett laughingly adjusted the pot, and

Kitty went on her way, not hoppityhopping now, but singing, though, which I suppose is about as bad in the street.

Well, our little Kitty did make the overalls; a child of ten can do something toward causing the world to turn without a creak, if she really tries; and it lent a ray of life and hope to the sick mother to see her daughter basting seams and patiently working the sewing machine with her tiny feet and hands. One leg sewed up!" cried Kitty. "Two legs sewed up!" cried Kitty.

Waistband on!" cried Kitty. Not all at once as I have written it; oh no, it was a long task, for sometimes the needle would "skip stitches," and at other times there was trouble with the "tension," and it always was a very difficult matter to "spool the bobbins," and once or twice Mrs. Bly felt she must get up and come to her child's relief.

"If you would saw me some wood," said Kitty, as if he were the most provident papa in the world.

Mr. Bly was a long time at the woodpile; and then Kitty saw him going down the street with the sawbuck and the saw. She thought that very funny indeed. But Mr. Bly came back at night. And when he came he had a rib of beef in a paper, and he had a paper of sugar.

A little girl of ten trying to sup. port a family was rather too much, even for Mr. Bly, you see.

There were some days, however, when he wasn't quite so deeply pierced by the thought, and those days he went down to the corner shop and sat on the cracker barrel as of old, but really he did nearly support his family, after a fashion, and Mrs. Bly's days of sickness were the happiest days she had known for years.

"There, papa!" cried Kitty, when Mr. Bly came into dinner from sitting on the cracker barrel at the corner shop-" there, papa, I've And wasn't Kitty happy, little almost earned that loaf of bread cook, and washerwoman, and scrubmyself! See my overalls! I did ber, and seamstress, and nurse, it all myself, and by night I shall preacher and evangel, all seven in have the bread paid for, all myself." one? Her strawberry plant was Mr. Bly opened his sleepy eyes the poetry of those days, and Christat his child in astonishment. He mas morning-Mr. Hewlett had turned away from the bright, glad, calculated so well with his plantsunreproaching face the next mo- the berries, three stems of big glossy ment with a queer, strong sensation crimson fruit, were dead ripe, in his breast, or in his heart, or in honey-ripe. Mrs. Bly thought the his conscience-I don't quite know last days had all been blessed ones, where such a lazy man does feel. but when Kitty brought her the But all the same he sat down and Christmas breakfast on the pretty ate the loaf his child was paying tray, and the golden cocoa, and the for, while she toasted a slice for her strawberries, fresh stems of strawberries, and when Mr. Bly with a young look on his old face came behind flourishing aloft a big yellow chicken, saying, "Don't eat too much breakfast, mother, for here's a dinner to be eaten, too "-why then Mrs. Bly turned her face upon her pillow and sobbed..

mamma.

"What's this?" said he, as he got up from the table, walking toward the window where the strawberry plant was set. It was quite out of Mrs. Bly's sight.

"Sh!" said Kitty, and she whispered in his ear.

"Sho, sho," said Mr. Bly, huskily; and then suddenly he clasped his wife's head, and put an arm round Kitty. "Two such women in a house would make the worst man in the world over, if he was anybody at all!" said he.

And in those two blessed moments of wonder, gratitude, sweetness, and silence, the Christmas peace and hope settled down upon the little family, and not to lift and depart.

For it was that blessed Christmas, at dinner, that Kitty had her "happy thought." She was dividing a big crimson strawberry with her father.

little arms ached with hoeing, and her little hands with weeding, and her little back with bending over so much, and her little head with the sun shining on it. But for all that she "purred " with happiness through it all-for did it not keep her father at home? And did he not grow so fond of being at home, that he spent all his leisure time in making the house and grounds bright and homely?

That funny Christmas dessert of one strawberry was two years ago. This Christmas there will be a big Christmas turkey on the table, and a glowing tempting dessert from Kitty's pots, and there will be lots "Papa," said she, "let you and of other things, all bought with me raise real outdoor business business strawberries; and at the strawberries to sell! You know table will sit a very good-looking we've got lots of land-lots. Mr. and comfortable man and woman, Hewlett will tell us how, and you and a bright little chatterbox of a can do the work, and I will sell girl, purring, playing, and caress'em. We could, papa!

Now Mr. Bly was not quite an idiot, and besides, he was just in the mood to ponder. He knew something of gardening, and he couldn't but see that here was a way to partially support his family.

“Done, Kitty!" he said. "It's a happy thought."

ing. It will be very far from this little girl's reflections that it was her " happy thought," her cheery readiness to do what she could, that saved her mother from utter heartbreak, her father from a pauper's shame, and herself from-well, I hardly know what-from only hard work, perhaps; for life and fate couldn't wholly crush such a girl as Kitty Bly; her "happy thoughts," like white, strong arms, would be constantly lifting her out of each

And it was done, too. Done with lots of hard work, though. I don't suppose Mr. Bly's work was very hard; but Kitty thought hers was sometimes. Her dark befalling.

READY FOR TRANSLATION.

ONE of the mistakes into which Christians fall is that of making their religion a provision for future events. Thousands and thousands of times men are exhorted to " prepare to die "—a form of expression which finds no precedent or warrant in Scripture. Others have varied the phrase, and speak of being prepared for translation when the Lord Jesus shall appear, which form of expression is also without Scripture example. The Gospel deals with men as they are, and with the present time. The preparation which men need is not the preparation to die, for they may not die for years, indeed they may not die at all, for Scripture hath said, "We shall not all sleep;

Kitty went on her way, not hoppityhopping now, but singing, though, which I suppose is about as bad in the street.

Well, our little Kitty did make the overalls; a child of ten can do something toward causing the world to turn without a creak, if she really tries; and it lent a ray of life and hope to the sick mother to see her daughter basting seams and patiently working the sewing machine with her tiny feet and hands. Oneleg sewed up!” cried Kitty. "Two legs sewed up!" cried Kitty.

"Waistband on!" cried Kitty. Not all at once as I have written it; oh no, it was a long task, for sometimes the needle would "skip stitches," and at other times there was trouble with the "tension," and it always was a very difficult matter to 66 spool the bobbins," and once or twice Mrs. Bly felt she must get up and come to her child's relief.

"There, papa!" cried Kitty, when Mr. Bly came into dinner from sitting on the cracker barrel at the corner shop-" there, papa, I've almost earned that loaf of bread myself! See my overalls! I did it all myself, and by night I shall have the bread paid for, all myself." Mr. Bly opened his sleepy eyes at his child in astonishment. He turned away from the bright, glad, unreproaching face the next moment with a queer, strong sensation in his breast, or in his heart, or in his conscience-I don't quite know where such a lazy man does feel. But all the same he sat down and ate the loaf his child was paying for, while she toasted a slice for her

Mr. Bly lingered for some mo ments. He stopped before the bedroom door. "Ill?" he asked.

'Anything you want 'fore I go?" he also inquired of Kitty.

"If you would saw me some wood," said Kitty, as if he were the most provident papa in the world.

A little girl of ten trying to support a family was rather too much, even for Mr. Bly, you see.

And wasn't Kitty happy, little cook, and washerwoman, and scrubber, and seamstress, and nurse, preacher and evangel, all seven in one? Her strawberry plant was the poetry of those days, and Christmas morning-Mr. Hewlett had calculated so well with his plantsthe berries, three stems of big glossy crimson fruit, were dead ripe, honey-ripe. Mrs. Bly thought the last days had all been blessed ones, but when Kitty brought her the Christmas breakfast on the pretty tray, and the golden cocoa, and the strawberries, fresh stems of strawberries, and when Mr. Bly with a young look on his old face came behind flourishing aloft a big yellow chicken, saying, "Don't eat too much breakfast, mother, for here's a dinner to be eaten, too "-why then Mrs. Bly turned her face upon her pillow and sobbed.

little arms ached with hoeing, and her little hands with weeding, and her little back with bending over so much, and her little head with the sun shining on it. But for all that she "purred " with happiness through it all-for did it not keep And in those two blessed mo- her father at home? And did he ments of wonder, gratitude, sweet-not grow so fond of being at home, ness, and silence, the Christmas that he spent all his leisure time in peace and hope settled down upon making the house and grounds the little family, and not to lift and bright and homely? depart.

For it was that blessed Christmas, at dinner, that Kitty had her "happy thought." She was dividing a big crimson strawberry with her father.

That funny Christmas dessert of one strawberry was two years ago. This Christmas there will be a big Christmas turkey on the table, and a glowing tempting dessert from Kitty's pots, and there will be lots 'Papa," said she, “"let you and of other things, all bought with me raise real outdoor business business strawberries; and at the strawberries to sell! You know table will sit a very good-looking we've got lots of land-lots. Mr. and comfortable man and woman, Hewlett will tell us how, and you and a bright little chatterbox of a can do the work, and I will sell girl, purring, playing, and caress'em. We could, papa!

Now Mr. Bly was not quite an idiot, and besides, he was just in the mood to ponder. He knew something of gardening, and he couldn't but see that here was a way to partially support his family. "Done, Kitty!" he said. a happy thought."

"It's

And it was done, too. Done with lots of hard work, though. I don't suppose Mr. Bly's work was very hard; but Kitty thought hers was sometimes. Her

ing. It will be very far from this little girl's reflections that it was her "happy thought," her cheery readiness to do what she could, that saved her mother from utter heartbreak, her father from a pauper's shame, and herself from-well, I hardly know what-from only hard work, perhaps; for life and fate couldn't wholly crush such a girl as Kitty Bly; her "happy thoughts," like white, strong arms, would be constantly lifting her out of each dark befalling.

READY FOR TRANSLATION.

ONE of the mistakes into which Christians fall is that of making their religion a provision for future events. Thousands and thousands of times men are exhorted to " prepare to die ". -a form of expression which finds no precedent or warrant in Scripture. Others have varied the phrase, and speak of being prepared for translation when the Lord Jesus shall appear, which form of expression is also without Scripture example. The Gospel deals with men as they are, and with the present time. The preparation which men need is not the preparation to die, for they may not die for years, indeed they may not die at all, for Scripture hath said, "We shall not all sleep; "

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