SERVICE.

The first meeting of the “Do Good Society” had proved so successful that another was appointed for next week, at the request of the little members. Mr. Morven came in and opened the meeting with a prayer this time, after which he retired while the children were singing their first hymn. Then the president read and explained the pledge again, and asked all who had not done so already to sign it, after which she again produced the box with a slit in the cover, into which she asked every one to drop the papers on which they had written whatever they would like to have read to the society.

There was a little tittering, a little rustling, some blushing, and considerable hesitation, after which a good many of the girls and some of the boys came up in a confused mass, and dropped some folded papers into the box.

“Now,” said Miss Etta, when all was quiet again, “I call upon the secretary to read what is on these papers without the names, for that is the Bible way of not letting our right hand know what the left does, and if any of our little members, who don’t know how to write, have anything to report to the society, they may get some of the bigger ones to write it down for them. Here are some slips of paper and pencils I have provided on purpose.”

Then there was another pause and some more rustling, whispering, and laughing, and some more curiously written and folded papers were dropped into the box.

These are what the secretary read:

I.

I was coming home from school one day when I saw old Mr. Kelly trying to push his wheelbarrow of potatoes up the hill. He looked so weak that I thought I would help him, so I called Jim Byers, and we took hold of the wheelbarrow and wheeled it all the way to his door, where we emptied the potatoes into a barrel and put them away in the cellar. It was great fun!

“No doubt, it was,” said Miss Etta.

II.

Kittie always calls me names when she gets mad, and I always used to think of the worst I knew to call her in return; but I thought I wouldn’t since I belong to the Do Good Society. So the next time she got mad, and began to call names, I said: “Don’t, Kittie, dear, let’s love each other. Here’s a beautiful piece of lace to make a fichu for your doll!” She hasn’t called me names since.

“Of course not; who could?” was the comment.

III.

I met four boys with cigarettes in their mouths one day. They all took off their hats to me, but I looked the other way, as if I did not see them. “Hallo,” said one of them, “ is getting stuck up.” “No, I ain’t stuck up; but I’ve promised not to encourage the use of tobacco.” The boys all laughed at me, but they threw away the cigarettes, for all that.

“Who wouldn’t be laughed at to accomplish such results?”

IV.

My sister will tag onto me, wherever I go. She wanted to go nutting with me and some other fellows. I was just going to tell her we didn’t want babies, when I remembered the pledge, so I took her along. She picked up as many nuts as any of us. And she didn’t cry a bit, even when she fell down and scratched her hand dreadfully. I sha’n’t call her cry-baby any more.

V.

I work on a farm. The man I work for gives us beer sometimes. Last Saturday night he offered me some. I wouldn’t take it. “Why?” said he. “Because I have promised to use my influence against the use of liquor. I can’t drink it.”

VI.

Four of us boys have given up swearing. It’s hard work, though, sometimes we’re so used to it.

“Yes, it’s hard work to give up any bad habit,” said Etta. “But God will help us if we ask him, and the sooner we begin, the easier it will be.”

VII.

I wanted to buy, oh, such a lovely book! But I spent the money for crackers, and took them down to the poor little Ryans, whose mother is dead. I enjoyed seeing them eat them a great deal more than I should have enjoyed the book.

VIII.

I wanted to stay in bed awfully one morning. I do hate to get up! But I thought about poor old Mrs. Payne, and how cold she would find it to get up and make her fire in the dark, so I jumped right out of bed, ran down to her cottage, made the fire, and set the tea-kettle over, and got back in time for breakfast, after all.

IX.

I finished my work in the mill real early on Wednesday, because I wanted to be first at Miss Eunice’s. But Jennie Ray is so slow that she never gets through hers till the last minute, so I turned to and helped her, and we both got away at half-past five. I didn’t get to Miss Eunice’s as early as usual, but Jennie did, a great deal earlier; so I didn’t care.

The following were from the little children:

“I helped mother wash the dishes.”

“I set the table.”

“I took care of the baby.”

“I picked up apples.”

“I made the fire,” etc. etc.

“These are all very little things,” said the president, as she detected a smile upon the faces of some of the older girls and boys “But if they are done really for the sake of ‘doing good,’ and pleasing God, they are just as great to him as the ‘cup of cold water,’ which he says ’shall not lose its reward.’”

“Here are some questions which were asked me last week after the meeting,” said Etta, as she finished reading the papers. “I wonder if the girls to whom I gave them have found answers.”

1. “Why is it wrong to drink beer?”

Several hands were raised and several answers given; such as:

“Because it makes people drunk.”

“Because it killed Harry.”

Eric Robertson produced the following slip, which he had cut from a paper, and read it aloud:

“Beer is regarded by many in this country as a healthy beverage. Let me give you a few of the ingredients frequently used in its manufacture. The adultérations most commonly used to give bitterness are gentian, wormwood, and quassia; to impart pungency, ginger, orange-peel, and caraway. If these were all, there would be small need of warning the young against the use of beer on account of its injurious ingredients, but when there are added, to preserve the frothy head, alum and blue vitriol; to intoxicate, cocculus indicus, nux vomica, and tobacco; and to promote thirst, salt, then indeed does it become necessary to instruct and warn the innocent against the use of this poisonous beverage.”

2. “Are cigarettes good for boys?”

No one answered, and Etta said:

“Boys think it manly to smoke, but it isn’t. It’s very dirty and very unhealthy. I heard of a little boy only twelve years old, who died very suddenly, and when the doctors examined him after his death they found the coats of his stomach all eaten up with tobacco, and yet he had only smoked cigarettes. Cigarettes are made of a little tobacco, a great deal of cabbage-leaves, old leather, and dirty paper, with snuff and ginger and strychnine, a deadly poison, to flavor them. The oil of tobacco itself is rank poison. Two or three drops of it put on the tongue of a dog or a cat will kill it in a few minutes. Besides, the smell of tobacco lingering in a boy’s clothes or breath is very foul and disgusting. And worse than all, the effect of smoking is to create a thirst which pure, cool water does not satisfy, and those who begin by smoking or chewing tobacco are very likely to end by drinking beer and whiskey, and finally becoming drunkards.”

Then questions to be answered at the next meeting were called for, and the following were given:

1. Is it wrong to wear pretty clothes?

2. Why shouldn’t people be selfish?

3. Is it swearing to say “good gracious!” and “mercy on us!”?

Miss Etta did not answer these, but wrote them down in her note-book, saying she would look up the subjects by the next meeting, and she wanted the members of the “Do Good Society” all to do the same, and then they could compare their answers.

The last part of the programme to-day was the reading of a story by the president. She half-read and half-told about a young man named Harry Wadsworth, who, although he was only a clerk in a railroad company, managed, by giving all his spare time and thought, to do so many kind things for other people, that when he died they all set about to honor his memory by each doing kind things for others, and others again followed their example, till thousands of people were all busy in hundreds of different places, doing just as much as they could to help other people and to discountenance everything evil, and to throw their influence on the side of everything good.

Harry Wadsworth had four mottoes, which they all adopted. They were:

“Look out and not in.
“Look forward and not back.
“Look up and not down.
“Lend a hand.”

Miss Etta also told them that all sorts of clubs and societies, chiefly composed of children, had grown out of this story, and that they were called by different names; such as, “Wadsworth Clubs,” “Lend a Hand Societies,” “Look Out Guards,” and “Look Up Legions.”

One of these Wadsworth clubs, a class of great, rough, overgrown boys in a New York mission school, had supported a sick companion for a whole winter out of the savings of their own scanty earnings. Another, a group of rich Boston girls, kept three or four families of poor children constantly dressed in the clothes which they made themselves. A third had originated the idea of sea-side homes for sick city children.

“Our Do Good Society is to be like one of these,” she said; “only we must have for our motive something higher than just kindness to other people. We must do good for Jesus’ sake; because he does good to us and because we want to please him by doing good to his other children. And, boys and girls, we sha’n’t be doing it the right way at all, if we are the least bit proud of what we do and take any glory to ourselves about it. We can not even think any good thing without the aid of the Holy Spirit; certainly we can not perform any righteous action. So we must always remember to ask for his presence, his direction, and his strength, and in this, as in all our other ways, acknowledge him.”

The Do Good Society set in motion a good many other things; for the younger members, who had more time at their disposal, began to conceive a passion for performing helpful acts, and they ferreted out cases of distress which were often far beyond their power to relieve, but which thus got into the right hands.

For instance, when the children reported the case of the poverty-stricken Ryans, Miss Eunice set her “tea-party” to work to make a set of clothes for the unexpected twin-baby, for whom there was no provision, and sent a strong poor woman, whom her father paid, to take care of the helpless little ones till some better and more permanent arrangement could be made. When the boys found Harry Pemberton’s mother without “oven wood,” which the strong arms of her unfortunate boy used to prepare, they set about to gather and cut up enough to last her all winter; and in doing so made the further discovery that she had neither tea, sugar, nor flour in the house. This they reported at the next meeting of the society, and the result was that abundance of provisions of all kinds found their way into the poor old widow’s dwelling, and she was well cared for the short remainder of her sad life. Even Bertie Sanderson caught the infectious enthusiasm, and devoted the money sent by her city aunt to get her a velvet hat and feathers, just like her cousins, to procuring a warm woolen dress and hood for a little girl in the neighborhood, who could not go to school without it. She wore her old felt all winter with content that would have been impossible a year ago.

Many opportunities of doing good offered themselves as the winter came on and sped away. There was what is called a crisis in the paper trade. A great deal more had been manufactured than could possibly be used, and no new orders were coming in. All that Mr. Mountjoy could do was to go on making paper in the hopes of selling it in better times. But as no money was coming in, it was hard to find enough with which to pay so many work-people. Many mill-owners closed their factories at once, thus throwing hundreds of workmen who had families dependent upon them out of employment. Mr. Mountjoy was advised to do this, but he could not bear to be the cause of so much suffering, and his son would not hear of it.

As the only other thing that was possible, he called them all together one day at the close of the day’s work, and explained the situation to them, asking them if they would rather accept a much lower rate of wages, or have the mill close altogether and go elsewhere in search of work.

There were some blank looks as men and women thought how hard it had been to live at even the present rate of wages, but when the young man showed them that even his proposal was only possible at a great sacrifice to himself and the family, there was not a murmur. Everybody accepted what must be, and though as the winter went on there was much poverty and privation, there was no bad feeling, no signs of that terrible desolation, so dreaded at such times a strike.

The Mountjoys dismissed all their servants but one, the three daughters cheerfully doing each a share of the housework, and assisting in the preparation of broths, gruels, and other things needed for the sick and poor, who greatly missed the higher wages which their natural protectors had been earning. Neither girl bought a new article of wearing apparel, and Etta decidedly declined to make her usual winter visit to the city, saving thus a considerable sum of money and much still more valuable time for the blessed service to which she had devoted herself.

And so the storm was weathered, and when work recommenced in the spring with even better prospects and at the old rates of remuneration, every one was glad; but no one had really suffered, thanks to the “Do Good Society” and the consecrated hearts that were faithfully endeavoring to acknowledge God “in all their ways.”