SOME of you have been told that Jesus does not love naughty children; that you must be good if you want the Lord to love you. And you have tried, oh, so hard, to be good, that you might win his love and be saved. Every birthday and New Year's Day, the first day of school and the first day of vacation, whenever you have gone visiting and the day you came home, and many other times, you have said to yourself:  "Now I am going to commence anew, and try as hard as I can to be good." But in a short time you said or did some-thing wrong, and after several failures you became discouraged, and then said to yourself, "I can't be good, and I will not try any longer. I never can make Jesus love me." 

Now Jesus loves you, just as you are. Jesus loves even naughty children. He wants you to 

come to him with all your faults and sins. Do not wait to make yourself better, but come to him now. He will receive you as his own dear child. 

Then try anew to do right. You cannot make yourself wholly good, but you can do the beat you can, and Jesus will help you through the rest. If you are truly sorry for your sins, and try to turn away from them, Jesus is ever ready to forgive and help you. He is never impatient with our frequent failures, and never weary of our cries. 

Loving and patient, strong and gentle, ever ready with sympathy and help, Jesus is the children's best friend, the children's loving Saviour.



KITTY going to join the ministry!  Well, if that isn’t a good joke.

  She must think she is a woman's righter," and Harry Franklin threw his hat up in the air, and gave a laugh. 

"That isn't the kind of ministry I mean," answered Kitty, shyly, while tears began to come in her gray eyes. "I mean the ministry of politeness." 

"And pray, what is that, Miss Woman's Rights?" 

demanded Harry, with another laugh, louder and more disagreeable than the first, while he threw a handful of grass he had pulled to give the pony, standing at the door, over Kitty's hat and curls. 

"No wonder you ask, Harry," said his mother, who had come out on the porch to hear the last few remarks, "for it is very evident that you don't know. Even Rob, waiting patiently for us to get into the phaeton, knows more of it than you do. He never would have thrown that grass over Kitty's hair when she was just going to ride. 

If you really wish to know what it is, I'll tell you. Part of it is Kitty's patiently taking the grass out of her hat, and shaking it from her hair without calling you 'a horrid old thing' and asking me to make you behave." "That's right, Kitty," she said turning to her daughter; "silence is the next best thing to the 'soft answer.' If we learn not to say disagreeable things, it is easier to say agreeable ones. And now who is going with me down to the cars to meet papa?" 

"I am," answered Harry immediately. 

Kitty was only human, and for a moment the new profession was forgotten, as she said hastily :— 

"You went yesterday, and mamma said I might go today. I think it is real "—then she remembered, and suddenly stopped. 

Her mother noticed it, and always quick to help her children in any triumph over self, said at once: — 

"I'll take you too, Kitty, this evening, for I promised. Harry can go because he was so patient in not speaking first." 

Harry drew his brows together, for as he often confided to Kitty, he "would much rather take a whipping than have mamma chaff him." The  "chaffing" did some good, however, for he helped his mother into the phaeton, then absolutely waited till Kitty got in before he took his seat in the rumble. He met his reward in a bright smile of approbation from his mother,—a smile he valued in proportion to its scarcity, for "harem scarem" Harry was always in some mischief. 

After they had been driven for a few moments down the pretty avenue of trees that led to the gate, Mrs. Franklin looked down at her little daughter sitting on the seat by her, and said:— 

"What made you think of the ministry of politeness, Kitty dear?" 

"I was reading something about it the other day in that little book you gave me, and I thought I would try to be polite." 

"The Bible doesn't say anything about being polite," broke in Harry in his usual abrupt style. 

"And if it isn't in the Bible, we needn't do it." 

"But it is in the Bible, Harry," his mother answered him. "What else does this mean? 'Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love, in honor preferring one another.' What else does the Golden Rule mean? Why, I could go on for half an hour repeating verses that mean we must be polite to each other." 

"But people need not be polite in their own family," Harry said. 

"Ah, my boy! You never made a greater mistake than that. There is no place where politeness is more needed than in one's own family. We are much more apt to be courteous to strangers, whom we do not feel intimate with, than we are to our own home people; and it is a mistake, for we are less thrown with them, and so less likely to be made uncomfortable." 

"How does it make you uncomfortable, mamma?" 

"Suppose you were to ask me, 'Can't I drive Rob now, mamma?' and I was to answer you, 

'No, you shant,' wouldn't that make you feel very badly?" 

"Yes'm, it would. I would think I was speaking to Kitty." Harry answered with a sudden 

burst of thoughtfulness that made Mrs. Franklin and Kitty both laugh. 

"But if I said, am afraid to have you drive now, Harry, for' Rob is very tricky, and we are going down hill, you would not feel bad, though you would not be allowed to drive any more than if I had answered you roughly. Do you see?" 

"Why, yes! So it does make a difference!" 

Harry said. "I never thought of that before." 

"One reason that families don't get on smoothly and happily together is, that they are not particular enough about these little acts of courtesy and kindness that make life go so much more smoothly. 

You and Kitty would be much happier together if you spoke to each other as you speak to papa and 


"How do you mean, mamma," Kitty asked. 

"Why, if you said, 'Please, Harry, don't touch that, it will break,' instead of, 'You musn't touch 

my things! Mamma, please make Harry behave!" Kitty looked conscious, for she remembered having used these very words early in the morning, and in a very cross tone, too. 

"You wouldn't speak that way to me," her mother continued. "You would have spoken pleasantly and amiably, and I would have been a great deal readier to listen, and do as you asked." 

"And you too, Harry," Mrs. Franklin said. 

" Who was it I heard yesterday saying, Go 'way and leave me alone; I don't want to be bothered by a girl; what can a girl know about making a kite?' and five minutes after, when I passed, the same person said to me in a pleasant manner, Please, mamma, help me hold this paper till I paste it.'  Kitty could have held it better than I could, for her fingers are smaller, and would go in places where mine would not go, and she would have been interested and stayed to help you, while I had to go away in a few moments." 

"But it is different, somehow, mamma." 

"Not very different, Harry; the principle is the same. What would you think if I were to say this evening when your papa asks me for another cup of drink, can't give you any more; I'm tired of pouring drinks for you, you are such a bother.' " 

The children both laughed at the idea of their gentle mamma saying such a thing, and said they would think it very queer. 

"It would not be a bit worse than for you and Kitty to speak so to each other. There is just as much necessity for the little people in our homes to be courteous to each other, as for the grown people to be. If you only take care of the tone of your voice, it is so much easier to be polite, for you would not be likely to make a very disagreeable remark in a bright, cheerful voice, would you?" 

"No, indeed," the children answered. 

"That is so much the case," Mrs. Franklin continued, "that when you only hear people talking, you can usually tell whether they are saying pleasant or disagreeable things. An angry voice is like a railroad whistle, warning you to get off the track, and if any one is wise he will heed the warning. If you get into the habit of speaking to each other in a cross voice, you will find that presently, even though you feel kindly, you cannot speak so; and then, children, you will be sorry for it, and it will be too late to alter the tone of your voice. I have gone into people's houses some-

times and heard them speaking to each other in cross or sulky tones, and then they would come 

into the room where I was, and speak to me as sweetly and pleasantly as a May morning; but I could not enjoy it, because I felt that it was their company voices that I heard, not the real honest tones of their hearts. So above all, be polite to your own family, for there is not much temptation to be rude to people you meet formally. But there is your papa coming to meet us, and we must hurry. 

We will talk some more about the ministry of politeness another time."

—New York Observer. 

BEGIN with modesty, if you would end with honor.