Bessie in the City. Mathews Joanna Hooe

and Miss Winslow do not like to leave all their friends and their comfortable homes to go out West, but they are willing to do it, that they may teach those poor people who have no one to tell them of Jesus. That is self-denial. And if my Maggie were to take her time to hem towels for the sake of the little Western children who have no books, that would be self-denial. And there was one great self-denial, greater than any other the world can ever see. Do you know what that was, my darling?"

      "When Abraham killed – I mean when he was going to kill Isaac," said Maggie.

      "Well, there was some self-denial in that," said Mrs. Bradford, "but that was not what I meant. It was Abraham's great faith in God which made him willing to obey his word and sacrifice his only son; but there was a greater than he, Maggie, who offered a more wonderful sacrifice."

      "Mamma," said Bessie, "do you mean when Jesus left his heaven and came to die for us?"

      "Yes, dear; and when we find it hard to give up our own wishes for the sake of others, let us remember all the dear Saviour has done for us, and that will make the task easier and pleasanter. And the Bible says, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.' That means that when we are working for Jesus' people, or for his little lambs, we are working for him."

      "And two little lambs can help some other little lambs," said Bessie, as if this thought pleased her very much.

      "Mamma," said Maggie, drawing a long sigh, "I think I'll have a self-denial and hem those towels. How much money will twelve towels make?"

      "Twelve towels at five cents apiece will make sixty cents," said Mrs. Bradford; "and perhaps by and by you will find some other way to gain money."

      "May I earn money any way I can, mamma?" asked Maggie.

      "I cannot promise that," said mamma, smiling. "You might wish to earn money in some way I might not think proper, even for a good purpose."

      "And what can I do, mamma?" asked Bessie. "I want to work too, and I don't know how to sew."

      "What shall we find for those little hands to do, Maggie?" said mamma, catching the two tiny hands Bessie held up and patting them softly against her own cheeks.

      "Work for those little hands to do?" said papa, who just then came in and heard the last words. "I should think they were at their proper work now, – petting mamma. Papa would not mind coming in for a share too."

      "And so he shall," said Bessie; "but petting you and mamma is nice play, not work; and these little hands want to be useful, papa."

      "I think they do pretty well for five-year-old hands," said Mr. Bradford, as he sat down and took Bessie on his knee. "They bring papa's slippers and rock baby's cradle, and sometimes I see them trying to help mamma when she is busy. I think we may call them rather useful for hands of their size."

      "But they want to make money, papa."

      "Ho, ho! that is it; is it? Well, I do not know that they can do much at that business, or that they could hold any great sum if they made it. Let us see what they can do in that way;" and putting his hand into his pocket, Mr. Bradford pulled out a number of bright new pennies. "Put out both hands."

      Bessie put her hands together and held them out, while her father counted the pennies into them.

      "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. There, I think that is as much as they can hold at once," said Mr. Bradford. "Is there another pair of little hands that would like to try if they can do as well?"

      Maggie was standing at her father's knee with a very eager face, for she knew her turn would come next.

      "One, two, three," began Mr. Bradford, and counted out fifteen pennies into Maggie's hands. "And now what is to be done with all that money?" he asked, looking from one to another of the bright faces. "It is not to be wasted, I suppose, since mamma seems to be in the secret."

      "We want to buy a library," said Bessie.

      "A library?" said Mr. Bradford. "Well, I'll promise to read every book in any library you may buy for the next ten years."

      "But it is not a big library with stupid books in, like yours, papa," said Maggie; "but a nice little one with pretty Sunday-school books; and it is not for ourselves we want it."

      Then papa was told about Mr. Long and Miss Winslow, all of which he knew before, though he listened as though it was quite new to him, and of the plan for the library, which he thought a very good one, and of which he had as yet heard nothing.

      "Mamma," said Maggie, "will you take care of our money for us? I know I shall lose some of mine if I keep it myself."

      Mrs. Bradford opened a drawer, and took from it a curious little box. It was made of blocks of red and black wood, and had no cover; but if a certain block were pressed, out flew a drawer which moved on a spring. This box had been Mrs. Bradford's when she was a child, and Maggie and Bessie thought it a great curiosity.

      "There," said mamma, "put the pennies in this, – fifteen of Maggie's and twelve of Bessie's make twenty-seven. Pretty well for a beginning. All the money you earn may go in this."

      "And the glove money too, mamma?" asked Maggie.

      "No, not the glove money. I shall keep that, and at the end of each month will give you what remains to put in the box."

      "And you will keep it, mamma?"

      "Yes, there it is in the corner of this drawer. You may come and take it when you want to put anything in it."

      "Papa," said Bessie at dessert that day, "will you please take the fretful off my peach. I can't eat it so."

      Bessie could never bear to eat or even touch a peach unless all the furze or down which grew upon it had been rubbed off, and the restless, uncomfortable feeling it gave her made her call it "the fretful."

      Mr. Bradford took a peach from his little girl's plate, and as he rubbed it smooth, said to his wife, "Margaret, my dear, peaches are very plenty and very fine, and I, you know, am very fond of peach preserves."

      "Very well," said Mrs. Bradford, "I will put up as many as you choose to send home."

      Bessie heard, and a new thought came into her little head.

      "Mamma," she said a while after, when she could speak to her mother alone, – "mamma, you told Papa you would make a great many peach preserves for him."

      "Yes, dear."

      "And, mamma, you know he likes the inside of peach-stones in the preserves."

      "The kernel, you mean."

      "Yes'm, and last summer Harry kept all the peach-stones and cracked them for you, and you paid him for them. Could you let me do it this time?"

      "My darling, you would crack those little fingers; it is too hard work for you."

      Bessie looked very much disappointed, and her mother could not bear to see it, for she knew how anxious she was to earn money for the library.

      "You may gather up the peach-stones, dear, and dry them, and Patrick shall crack them for you, and I will pay you five cents for every hundred."

      "Oh! thank you, mamma; that is very nice, and I will put away every one I can find."

      And from this day it was quite amusing to their papa and mamma to see how carefully Maggie and Bessie guarded every peach-stone they could find; and to hear them constantly talking over plans to gain a few pennies to add to their store.

      "Margaret," said Mr. Bradford to his wife that evening, "would it not be better for you to lock up that money-box of the children?"

      "I think not," said Mrs. Bradford. "They will want it half a dozen times a day. You know how such little things are, and they will always be counting their money. I believe every one we have in the house is quite honest, and the box cannot well be opened by one who does not know the secret of the spring."

      So the box was not locked up; but the time came when Mrs. Bradford was very sorry she had not taken her husband's advice.

      III.

      THE MISER

      "FRED,"