BE JUST BEFORE YOU ARE GENEROUS.

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"Come, Kathie! It is time to go home!"

It was Mother who called: she had been sitting for the last hour under the shade of the old pier, whilst little Kathie ran hither and thither on the beach, sometimes paddling a little, sometimes building sand castles.

"Come, Kathie!" Mother called again; "it is late; come here and I will put on your shoes and socks."

Still Kathie did not move, but sat staring at the sea, but with a look in her eyes which told plainly enough that her thoughts were far away. She was as a rule a good, obedient child, but to-day she seemed almost as if she was afraid to come. Mother got up from her seat, and went towards the little one.

"Did you not hear me, Kathie?" she began; then in an altered voice, "But, my child, where is your hat? Put it on at once, the sun is so hot."

Kathie hung her head, then the tears gathered in her eyes, and at last rolled quickly down her cheeks. "I haven't got a hat," she sobbed. "I gave it away. Are you vexed, Mother?"

Mother was puzzled. She sat down by Kathie and took her on her lap. "Don't cry," she said gently, "but tell me to whom you gave it."

"It was to a poor woman," said Kathie; "she asked me for it for her little girl, and so I took it off and gave it to her, but afterwards—"

"Afterwards you remembered that you should have asked Mother first," said Mother gravely.

"Yes," said Kathie. "But, Mother, the woman was poor; we ought to give to the poor, ought we not?"

"Yes, Kathie, but we must only give that which is our very own. Now, the hat was not yours to give away; I bought it for you, to shade you from the hot sun."

"Oh, Mother!" interrupted Kathie, "then I can never give to the poor, for little children have nothing of their own." Kathie's lip trembled, and she was very near crying at this thought.

"I will tell you what is your own to give," said Mother consolingly, "that is your time. All children have a great deal of time to do as they like in, and I can show you how you can use that time for the poor."

"Oh, mother! how? I can't sew nearly well enough to make anything for them."

"No, I don't mean sewing. I will give you an old pillow-case, and you must fill it with very little bits of torn, not cut, paper, and when it is full I will cover it for you with a case of pretty print, and then it will make a soft pillow for old Mrs. Timms, or any one else you like to give it to. It will take both time and patience to tear the paper; and when it is finished it will be your own work, and you may give it away."

"Yes, I see," said Kathie. "That will be my own work. I shall like that."

"As you grow older you will have money and other things which you can give away, but even then you will find that your best gifts will be those you have spent time and love over; those two things are the possession of the poorest of us, and yet they are worth more than gold and silver. Now, Kathie, we must go and buy you a new hat, for you cannot walk home in this heat without one; and another time when you give away anything you must remember to be just before you are generous."

Kathie thought Mother very kind not to be vexed about the hat; but Mother remembered what a little girl Kathie was, and she hardly expected her to be able to refuse, when a bold, sturdy woman asked for the hat off her head.


TRAVELLERS' TALES

They say there is a country where the snow never falls,
And sliding is a game they never knew:
They never saw a lake
Paved with ice that wouldn't break.
I would rather stay in England,
wouldn't you?
They say there is a country where the sun never sets.
But goes on shining all night through.
And you needn't go to bed,
For there's always light oerhead.
That's a country I should like,
wouldn't you?
They say there is a country where they all talk French.
I can't imagine what they ever do!
For who for all their chatter,
Can understand such patter?
I should answer "speak in English"
wouldn't you?
They say there is a country where the clergymen are black
And the language sounds like "choke-a-cockatoo."
And the niggers sit in rows
With hardly any clothes
I should like to go and look,
wouldn't you?
They say there is a country where the women cannot walk,
And everything is made of bam-boo
And the people's eyes are wee,
They live on rice and tea.
I should like to go and see them,
wouldn't you?
They say there is a country where the elephants are wild,
And never even heard of our Zoo.
And through the woods they roam
Like gentlemen at home.
I should like to go and peep,
wouldn't you?

F. W. HOME

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