at the sheep
know, and follow him? To test this, a traveller, who had put the
question, once exchanged dresses with a shepherd, and went amongst the
sheep.

The traveller in the shepherd's dress called the sheep, and tried to
lead them; but "they knew not his voice," and did not move. But when the
shepherd called them, though he was in the traveller's dress, they ran
at once to him, thus proving that it was the voice that led them.

I have a dog that will sometimes bark at me when I put on an overcoat
which he has not seen me wear before. But, the moment he hears my voice,
he seems ashamed of not having known me, and will whine, as if he would
say, "Pardon me, good master. It was very stupid in me not to know you.
It was your coat I did not know. I will try to be wiser the next time."

DORA BURNSIDE

* * * * *

"A FRIEND IN NEED."

Henry lived in the great city of London. He was known as "the boy at the
crossing." He used to sweep one of the crossings in Oxford Street. In
wet weather these crossings are very muddy. Now and then some one would
give him a penny for his work. He did not make much in a day; but what
he got was a great help to his mother. That thought kept him daily at
his work. One day he saw a little girl trying to lead her little brother
across the street. The carts and the horses made her afraid, and she ran
back timidly.

"What's the matter, little girl?" asked Henry.

"I am afraid we shall be run over," said the girl.

"I'll help you across," said Henry. Then, lifting the little boy in his
arms, he took the girl by the hand, and led her safely to the other side
of the street.

[Illustration: A friend in need.]

"Thank you!" said the little girl; and "Thank you!" said her little
brother, as plainly as he could speak it.

I went up and asked the boy with the broom if he knew the children. "I
never saw them before in my life," said he; "but such little ones can't
get across without help."

"You are a good boy," said I. "I think you must have a good father."

"I had one once," said he; "but now I have only a good mother."

"Well, Henry," said I, "give her this shilling, and tell her I send it
to her for teaching her boy to do good when he can get a chance."

Tears came to the boy's eyes. A shilling seemed a good deal of money to
him, and it pleased him all the more because it was given him for his
mother.

"Thank you, sir; thank you!" said he, and he ran