ng their heads, were wont to say,
It was not right to be so gay
Upon that weary road of strife.

"He whistled as he went, and still
He bore the young where streams were deep,
He helped the feeble up the hill,
He seemed to go with heart athrill,
Careless of deed and wild of will--
He whistled, that he might not weep."

III

MAKING LITTLE THINGS COUNT

There are people who spend so much time looking for the large,
spectacular opportunities for serving others, that they pass by as
unworthy of notice the opportunities for doing what seem to be little
kindnesses. Fortunately, however, there are people who are so taken up
with rendering what they call little services, that they have no time to
worry because the big opportunities do not come their way.

A magazine writer tells of one of these doers of simple kindnesses:

"I was the shabbiest girl in the office," she says. "It was no one's
fault and no one's shame that we were poor. I had intelligence enough to
know that. I knew, too, what a sacrifice mother had made to pay for my
tuition at business school. Still, the knowledge of my shabby clothes
forced itself upon me, particularly my old black skirt! Mother had
cleaned it and pressed it and cleaned it, but it seemed bent with age,
and all the office girls looked so fresh and pretty in their trim
business suits. I imagined all the first morning that they were pitying
me and felt them looking at my shabbiness, and during noon hour I was so
miserable; but when I went back next morning, I noticed that one of the
girls had on nearly as old clothes as I did, and she was so nice to me
that I fancied she was glad I had come because of our mutual poverty.
Not until after I earned enough money to buy some suitable, nice clothes
did I realize that the 'poor girl,' as I thought her, had drifted back
into the prettiest, most tasteful clothes worn by any of the girls. She
had only borne me company at a most trying time, and she knew, because
her fellow-workers all admired her, that the little object lesson would
keep them from hurting my feelings. The day has come now when new
clothes are usual, when I may even achieve an appearance that is known
as 'stylish.' But in my office, when a girl comes in shabby, painfully
sensitive, as I was, I 'bear her company' until the better times shall
come."

From another observer comes the story of the si