turned into a beautiful blue. They formed
these words: "Do a kindness to some one every day." The prince followed
the advice, and became the happiest boy in the realm.

"Happiness," says one writer, "is a mosaic, composed of many smaller
stones." It is the little acts of kindness, the little courtesies, the
disposition to be accommodating, to be helpful, to be sympathetic, to be
unselfish, to be careful not to wound the feelings, not to expose the
sore spots, to be charitable of the weaknesses of others, to be
considerate,--these are the little things which, added up at night, are
found to be the secret of a happy day. How much greater are all these
than one great act of noteworthy goodness once a year! Our lives are
made up of trifles; emergencies rarely occur. "Little things,
unimportant events, experiences so small as to scarcely leave a trace
behind, make up the sum-total of life." And the one great thing in life
is to do a little good to every one we meet. Ready sympathy, a quick
eye, and a little tact, are all that are needed.

This point is happily illustrated by this report of an incident upon a
train from Providence to Boston. A lady was caring for her father, whose
mental faculties were weakened by age. He imagined that some imperative
duty called on him to leave the swift-moving train, and his daughter
could not quiet him. Just then she noticed a large man watching them
over the top of his paper. As soon as he caught her eye, he rose and
crossed quickly to her.

"I beg your pardon, you are in trouble. May I help you?"

She explained the situation to him.

"What is your father's name?" he asked.

She told him; and then with an encouraging smile, she spoke to her
venerable father who was sitting immediately in front of her. The next
moment the large man turned over the seat, and leaning toward the
troubled old man, he addressed him by name, shook hands with him
cordially, and engaged him in a conversation so interesting and so
cleverly arranged to keep his mind occupied that the old gentleman
forgot his need to leave the train, and did not think of it again until
they were in Boston. There the stranger put the lady and her charge into
a carriage, received her assurance that she felt perfectly safe, and was
about to close the carriage door, when she remembered that she had felt
so safe in the keeping of this noble-looking man that she had not even
asked his name. Hastily putting her hand against the door,