PASSENGERS on board one of the many ferry boats that are constantly plying between the opposite shores of the Mersey may occasionally see, on warm, bright days, a poor, crippled boy, whose body has grown to almost a man's size, but whose limbs, withered and helpless, are still those of a child. He is a poor pitiable object. He wheels himself about in a small carriage, similar to those the boys use in play; and while the little boat threads its way among the ships of all nations that are anchored in the river, he adds not a little to the pleasure of the sail by playing, on his concertina, airs that show no mean degree of musical skill. 

The few pennies that he always receives, but does not ask for, are never grudgingly bestowed, and are given not more in pay for the music, than for the simple honesty that shines in the boy's blue eyes. 

One so helpless, it would seem, could be only a burden to those who loved him—could certainly do nothing toward fulfilling the command, "Bear ye one another's burdens." Is it so? And is there no service of love for the lame boy, no work for him in the vineyard? The question was answered one day. 

"Walter," said a gentleman, who had often met him, "how is it, when you cannot walk, that your shoes get so worn out?" 

A blush came over the boy's pale face; but after hesitating a moment, he said,— 

"My mother has younger children, sir; and while she is out washing, I amuse them by creeping about on the floor and playing with them. " 

"Poor boy!" said a lady standing near, not loud enough, as she thought, to be overheard, " what a life to lead! What has he in all the future to look forward to? 

The tear that started in his eye, and the bright smile that chased it away, showed that he did hear her. As she passed by him to step on shore, he said, in a low voice, but with a smile that went to her heart,— 

"I'm looking forward to have wings some day, lady! " 

Happy Walter! Poor cripple, and dependent on charity, yet doing, in his measure, the Master's will, and patiently waiting for the future ! He shall, by-and-by, " mount up with wings as eagles, shall run and not be weary, shall walk and not faint."—




SIDNEY SMITH cut the following from a newspaper and preserved it for himself: " When you rise in the morning, form the resolution to make the day a happy one to some fellow-creature. It is easily done,— a left-off garment to the man who needs it, a kind word to the sorrowful, an encouraging expression to the striving,—trifles in themselves light as air,—will do it at least for twenty-four hours. And if you are young, depend upon it, it will tell when you are old; and if you are old, rest assured it will send you gently and happily down the stream of time to eternity. If you send one person, only one, happily through each day, that is three hundred and sixty-five in the course of the year. If you live only forty years after you commence that course of medicine, you have made fourteen thousand six hundred beings happy, at all events, for a time. "