"YE have done it unto me, ye have done it unto me," sung Jenny one Monday morning. "There!

I'll remember it this time, sure. But, dear me! I'm forgetting after all. The teacher said we must not only learn the words, but think of what they mean, and try to do them.

"Let me see, now," and she pressed her chubby hands to her forehead, "teacher said: 'If we gave a cup of cold water to one of his little ones, for the Saviour's sake, he would say, Ye have done it unto me.'  I don't s'pose

I know any of his little ones, but I'll try if I can find 'em."

She ran into the kitchen, where on the dresser she spied a large bowl, which was used to mix cake in.

"Ah! "thought she, "the Saviour is pleased if we give his little ones a cupful of water, he'll like a bowlful better still.  Bridget, may I take this bowl awhile?"  Bridget, who was busy with her washing, did not turn her head, but said,—

"O yes, take what you like."

Jenny lifted the big bowl down very carefully; but how to fill it was the question. She did not want to trouble Bridget; besides, she had an idea that she ought to do it all herself.

A bright thought struck her; taking the cup that always hung on the pump, she filled it several times, and poured it into the bowl. " It's cupfuls, after all," she thought.

It was almost more than she could carry without spilling; but she walked slowly to the front gate.  There was no one in sight, and Jenny set her burden on the grass, and swung on the gate, while she waited. Presently, along came two little girls on their way to school.

"Want a drink?" called Jenny.

"Yes, indeed; it's so hot, and I'm dreadful thirsty.  I most always am.  But how are we to get at it?  "Laughing as she saw the great bowl.

"Oh! I'll soon fix that," and Jenny ran 'for the tin cup, with which they dipped out the water.

"It tastes real good," they said, and kissed her as they ran off to school.

The next that appeared was a short, red-faced Irishman, wiping his face with the sleeve of his flannel shirt, while an ugly dog trotted at his side.

"He don't look much like one of the little ones," thought Jenny, doubtfully; but she timidly held out her tin cup.  He eagerly drained it, filling it again, and drinking.

"And it must be a blissed angel ye are, for it's looking for a tavern I was, and now I won't nade to go nigh one at all.  And shure, afther all, water's better nor whisky. Might I give some to the poor baste?" pointing to his dog.

Jenny hesitated; she did not like the idea of having the dog drink from her cup or bowl.  But the man settled it by pouring the remnant of the water into his dirty, old hat, the dog instantly lapping it up.

After they were gone, Jenny filled her bowl again.  But I can't tell you now of all to whom she gave cups of cold water that hot day.  But when she laid her tired head on her pillow that night, she thought,-

"I wonder whether, after all, any of  'em were his 'little ones? "

And the dear Saviour,  looking down, and seeing that the little girl had done all that she could for his sake, wrote after her day's work, "Ye have done it unto me."