The wind blew shrill, the sky was gray: “Oh, dear,” sighed Molly, “how it rains! Let's think of some new game to play, I'm getting very tired of trains.” “I know,” said Jack: “it will be fun!” And seized some pa per, pen and ink; “Look, look,” cried Susie, “what he's done: He's written, ‘To the Skating Rink!’” The children thought it strange of him To pin it up upon the wall; “We haven't any skates,” said Jim; “It isn't any good at all.” But Jack looked wise. “Oh, yes,” said he, “I've thought of just the very thing; These railway trucks do splendidly— We'll tie them on our feet with string.” They did, and all began to skate. But Jack, I fear, was rather rash; He would start off at such a rate That down he tumbled with a crash! He wasn't hurt. “I'm quite all right,” He cried, and scrambled up again; And on they skated with delight, Forgetting all about the rain!

—Selected.

WHY BETTY CHANGED HER VIND

By Marie Deacon Hanson

Each day, on her way to school, Betty called for Robbie Porter. There were two reasons why she did this. One was that she had promised Mrs. Porter she would, the other was that the little boy's mother always gave Betty a cooky, or a piece of candy, or sometimes a penny. Betty never wanted anyone to know about this second reason, which made her feel ashamed of herself, whenever she thought of it.

“Just as if you couldn't do a kind thing for your neighbor without expecting to get something for doing it,” she would say scornfully to herself.

One afternoon, Mrs. Porter met Betty in the grocery, and said to her: “Deary, shall you mind calling for Robbie about ten minutes earlier in the morning? I want to go to the city on the eight-thirty train.” And before Betty could answer, she added. “Of course, Robbie could go by himself now that he has learned the way, but he does so enjoy going with you.”

“And I don't mind one bit calling for him,” Betty hastened to assure Mrs. Porter. “I'll come early in the morning.”

On the way home from the store. Betty saw her cousin, Julia Norton, coming eagerly to meet her.

“Betty,” Julia cried, “mother sent me to ask you to stay all night. Cousin Lottie has come, and mother says we can pop corn and have a good time. And you must be sure to bring your books so you can go right to school in the morning from our house.”

“That will be lovely,” Betty exclaimed delightedly. There were few treats she enjoyed more than going to her aunt's home.

Julia ran off to speak to another girl, and Betty following, suddenly remembered Robbie. Mow could she call for him if she were at her aunt's?

The latter lived on the other side of the village, and it would be far out of Betty's way to call for Robbie.

“I just won't bother about him,” she decided.

But even as she did so, she remembered that she had not only promised to call for Robbie in the morning, but to call for him earlier than usual and his mother would depend upon her.

“Oh, dear! What shall I do?” Betty cried impatiently.

A small voice seemed to answer in her ear, and it sounded so real that Betty actually turned to see if the owner were near: “Do as you would be done by.”

“Why, that's the Golden Rule,” Betty quickly exclaimed. “And mother says if you do as the Golden Rule tells you, you'll never be unhappy. What does it tell me to do now?” She stood in thought for a moment, and the next, she ran to overtake her cousin.

“Julia, please give this sugar to mother,” Betty said, placing the bag in her cousin's band. “And tell her that I've gone to Mrs. Porter's and I'll be right back.”

Betty flew down the street to Mrs. Porter's and knocked hurriedly on the door.

“Why, Betty, what is it, dear?” Mrs. Porter asked in surprise, as the former rushed into the room, in response to the invitation to enter.

“I'm sorry I can't call for Robbie in the morning. I'm going to Aunt Fanny's to stay all night,” Betty explained breathlessly.

“It is thoughtful of you to come and tell me now, dear,” Mrs. Porter replied. “I'll ask Jennie Lee to stop for Robbie in the morning. I hope you will have a nice visit at your aunt's.”

“I know I shall,” Betty answered happily. “I'll call for Robbie the next day, Mrs. Porter.” And away the little girl tripped, light-hearted as could be. That is the way it makes one feel to follow the Golden Rule.

JACK'S MASTER

Jack's most delightful present last Christmas was a red wooden gun, with arrows that would shoot very hard indeed. At least Jack thought it was delightful, but his mamma did not; those little pointed wooden arrows that flew so far and hit so hard made her very uneasy, for fear her little boy would presently hurt somebody.

But mammas hate to spoil their little boys' fun, and Jack's mamma made an arrangement by which it was agreed that he was to have his gun, provided that he never pointed it at anybody, even in play.

Jack was quick enough to promise; he meant to keep his promise, too; and I think would have kept it if it hadn't been for his master. You didn't know Jack had a master? No more did he know it till the day he had to give up his gun.

You see, Jack had a little brother, two years younger than himself, who was a very spirit of mischief, and loved above all things to tease big Jack. One day, when the two boys were playing together, pretending to be wild Indians out in the woods. Will began to tease Jack by saying: “There was a little man, and he had a little gun,” and all the rest of that little song. I don't know why this teased Jack, but he got madder and madder, until, alas! in spite of his promise, he pointed his gun—not at the “duck—duck—duck,” but at Will, and struck him on the cheek.

Now it was not the wooden arrow with which his gun was loaded this time, but one leg of a sharp steel hairpin, and it went into the cheek and stuck there like a little dagger.

Half an hour later the red gun was in ashes on mamma's hearth, while mamma herself and both boys sat sorrowfully by its grave.

“Mamma,” said Jack, “I didn't mean to shoot Will, but somehow I couldn't help it.”

“No,” said mamma, shaking her head: “I forgot when I let you keep the gun that you had a master.”

“A master?” asked Jack, in surprise.

“Yes,” said mamma, “you obey Bad Temper's orders, though you don't always obey mine.”

“Mamma,” said Jack, presently, “I think I'll leave Bad Temper's service. He gets me into a heap of trouble.”

“Do, Jack,” she said, smiling brightly at him. “And while you are getting rid of a bad master, remember that you have a good one, the Lord Jesus, on whose banner is written, ‘Putting away all wrath and clamor.’”

Little Will listened very soberly to all this, with a red hole in his cheek, and both chubby hands resting on his bare knees. I hope he made up his mind, too, to choose the good Master.—Selected.

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Dew Drops, Vol. 37, No. 10, March 8, 1914

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OUR SKATING RINK

WHY BETTY CHANGED HER VIND

JACK'S MASTER

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