y-piece told that it
was 65 degrees of Fahrenheit. Outside, the self-registering thermometer
indicated 5 degrees below zero!

"Why, Matty," exclaimed Tom, as he looked frowningly at the instrument,
"I have not seen it so low as that for years. It will freeze the Thames
if it lasts long enough."

Matty made no reply, but stood with her hands clasped on her brother's
arm gazing contemplatively at the driving snow.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Tom.

"About the poor," answered Matty, as she went and seated herself at the
breakfast-table. "On such a terrible morning as this I feel so
inexpressibly selfish in sitting down to an overflowing meal in the
midst of such warmth and comfort, when I know that there are hundreds
and thousands of men and women and children all round us who have
neither fire nor food sufficient--little clothing, and no comfort. It
is dreadful," added Matty, as an unusually fierce gust dashed the snow
against the windows.

Tom was like-minded with his sister, but he could not suppress a smile
as he looked into her pretty little anxious face.

"Yes, Matty, it _is_ dreadful," he replied, "and the worst of it is that
we can do so little, so very little, to mend matters. Yet I don't feel
as you do about the selfishness of enjoying a good breakfast in
comfortable circumstances, for it is God who has given us all that we
have, as well as the power to enjoy it. I grant, that if we simply
enjoyed our good things, and neither thought of nor cared for the poor,
we should indeed be most abominably selfish, but happily that is not our
case this morning. Have we not risen an hour earlier than usual to go
out and do what we can to mitigate the sorrows of the poor? Are we not
about to face the bitter blast and the driving snow on this Christmas
morning for that very purpose? and should we not be rendered much less
capable of doing so, if we were to start off on our mission with cold
bodies and half-filled--I beg pardon, pass the muffins, dear. Besides,
sister mine, if you were to go out on such a morning cold and underfed,
would it not be probable that I should have to go and fetch a doctor for
you instead of taking you out to help me in aiding and comforting poor
people?"

"That may be all very true, Tom," returned Matty, with a dissatisfied
and puzzled look, "but I cannot help feeling that I have so much, so
_very_ much, more than I need of everything, while the thousands I speak
of have so