and must on no account be disturbed, for sleep is his best
medicine.

"But I want so to give him these things," and Elsie clasps tightly her
armful of treasures.

"You shall give them him to-morrow," Mother promises, and Elsie has to
be content.

When to-morrow dawns, Elsie can hardly wait to be dressed, so anxious
is she to go to Alfy and present the soldier doll and the rest of the
things.

Nurse is so slow this morning, Elsie really cannot wait; and whilst
Nurse turns to the drawer to pull out her clean frock, Elsie toddles
quickly out of the nursery, and runs to Alfy's room. She can hardly
reach the door, but manages somehow to stand on tip-toe and turn the
handle.

"There, Alfy! See!" she cries gayly, as she runs up to his cot. "All
these are for you!"

Alfy is better, and quite able to enjoy his presents, which are spread
out on his white quilt, and Elsie stands by, quite satisfied with his
pleasure.

"What have _you_ got?" he asks at last, as, somewhat tired, he leans
back on his pillows.

"Nothing," says Elsie promptly, "'cause I have the fun of giving, you
know."

A simple answer, but one in which a great truth is hidden.

Are there not, in these hard times, some children who might learn the
"fun," or rather the blessing, of giving?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

EASTERN TRAVEL.

On we file in a winding Caravan,
Caravan made of children and chairs.
Bold Arabs are we,
Adventurers free,
The chairs are our Camels: dried figs are our wares.

Over the hot desert sands we are travelling,
Travelling on to Cairo gates.
Rugs gathered in lumps
Give our Camels their humps,
And our supper is made of a few dried dates.

Sparingly must we drink of the waterskin,
Waterskin made of a nursery jug.
For the water must last
Till the desert is past
We must measure it out in the doll's little mug.

Here's the Simoom, with the blast of a hurricane,
Hurricane whirling the sand in drifts.
We must lie down beside
Our Camels, and hide
Till the storm blows past, and the darkness lifts.

Look! Yonder afar are Cairo's Minarets,
Minarets glittering gold in the sun.
A few leagues more
And our travels are o'er,
And the journey of Camel and rider is done.

F. W. Home.

--------------------------------------