Lift A Little.

One day while walking up the street, I

saw, a short distance before me, quite a small

boy carrying a large bucket. It seemed

very heavy, for the little fellow was bending

under its weight, yet he went resolutely forward,

only stopping to change it from one

hand to the other.

He was poorly clad, and, as he turned his

head, I recognized him as the son of a poor

widow, who was obliged to work very hard

to earn food and clothing for herself and her

two little boys. My heart ached for the

little fellow who was beginning so early to

bear life's burdens, and I wanted to help

him. "Lift a little," he seemed to say to

the passers-by as he trudged on with his


Soon I heard rapid footsteps behind me,

and in a moment, a bright-faced boy, the

only son of a professor in one of our colleges,

passed me. When he reached the little boy,

who was still bending under his burden, he

stretched out his hand, and, taking hold of the

bucket, bore on his stronger arm the larger

share of the burden until he reached his own


How I honored the boy for his kind act!

I knew his own heart was beating a happy

measure, for we are never so happy as when

doing something to make others happy.

And as the widow's son went struggling on,

knew his burden seemed less heavy, that

for a little while it had been borne for him.

His heart was lighter, too, because another

had shown him kindness, and the memory

of that little act would be a bright spot to

him in many a toiling day. It cost little, the 

act of thoughtful kindness; but how much

happiness it brought!