Happy For Three  Pins.

Once I saw a  little  girl  ask  her mother for 

a  piece  of  the moon.  She thought that 

beautiful  thing  would  make  her  happy.  We

  knew  how many would  be  pleased,  if they

  could  get something not to  be  had.

We  knew  a little girl who told her father if he 

would  buy for  her  a  little  thing  covered with 

gold  beads, she  would be  so  happy.  She 

 promised,  if she  could  only once  own  that

 glittering  thing, she  would  never  ask  him  for

  anything  else.  Her father was very kind,  and

 although  he  knew  that  it  would  only  make

  her happy  a  very short time, yet he bought it.

That  little  girl's  cup  of  pleasure  was  full. 

She was  so  delighted  that  everybody  meeting 

her thought her face  was  like sunshine,  

because  her heart so rejoiced.  But a few of the

 gold beads  dropped  off.  The  charm was gone.

  Her source  of  pleasure  was  dried  up.  Not

 one  week  had  passed  before  she  thought her

  bright, beautiful present was good  for nothing.

We were lately  riding  in  an  omnibus,  and 

there was  a  neatly  dressed  old  lady who  had

  on  her lap  a  large bundle  of  newly  washed


It  was  a  windy,  dusty  day.  Her  newspaper 

wrapping  but  poorly  covered  her  clean  linen. 

She  drew up  one  end,  and the  other  was 


She  needed  four  instead  of  two  hands  to  

keep  out the flying  dust.  We could  wish  she 

had a  better  covering.  When  we  handed  her 

 three  pins,  it would have done  your  heart 

good  to see  how  happy those simple pins made

 the old laundress. 

 Had we presented her with five  dollars, 

they could  not  have  done  the duty  of  the 

pins.  Her regular  employment  for  months 

perhaps  years—may  have  depended on  the 

 cleanliness  of  those  pieces  of  linen.  How 

 little  will  make  us  happy,  if we  have  a  

contented heart and never  forget that we  

deserve so  little.

The  good,  old  Christian  who,  in  her  deep 

poverty, invited a  tract  distributor  to sit down 

at her red-pine  table,  made  the  visitor wonder. 

She  had dry  bread and turnip-tops  for  her 

frugal  meal.  Said  the  visitor,  "Aunty,  where

  is  your  salt?"  "My dear  child,"  said  the

  aged  saint,  "that would be too much for  a 

 poor sinner  like me.  I bless God  for  what  he

  gives,  and ask  him for  a  thankful heart."

That humble meal had a happier guest than 

a thousand  princely  tables  groaning with 

 every  kind of luxury.  "How little we need  to

 make  us  happy," said  a fellow-pilgrim  to  the

 writer, as he  sat in  a  tomb  in Africa, sharing

 the humble food  prepared  by  an  Arab.  But to

 learn  this lesson aright, we  must  go  where

  St.  Paul  went.