gently, "we never know who may be in any
home. You didn't know you were delivering the paper to me. You
thought it was to Miss Stratton. Wasn't that it?"

"Yes," acknowledged the boy.

"If the Lord Jesus were here on earth, Harry," went on the minister
in a very grave, tender tone, "and if he wanted a little service
from you, you wouldn't render it in the way you deliver Miss
Stratton's paper, would you? Yet she is his child, one of his
representatives on earth, and as you treat her you treat him.
'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these,' you
know, Harry."

The next night Miss Stratton's paper fell with an emphatic thwack in
the middle of the front walk. The next night it did the same, and
the next, and the next.

"What has changed that boy?" wondered Miss Stratton with grateful
relief, as weeks passed and the paper still fell in plain sight.

She did not know that as Harry carefully aimed his papers, the boy
thought, "'Ye have done it unto me.'"

AN HONEST DAY'S WORK.

Willis walked down one of the city wharves. He was going to see his
father, Mr. Sutherland, who was one of the men employed by the State
Harbor Commissioners in repairing wharves. The piles that supported
the wharves often needed renewing, being eaten by teredos. Sometimes
the flooring of the wharves sagged and needed restoring to the
former level.

Willis liked to see the pile-driver with its big hammer. He marveled
at the air-pumps with which sagging wharves were raised. Perhaps
three air-pumps at a time would be stationed over as many "caps," as
the twelve-inch timbers under the wharf's flooring were called. The
pumps, being worked, would raise the caps and hold them until blocks
could be shoved underneath. Then the pumps were worked some more,
and other blocks put under, till the wharf was restored to the
required level. Great screws such as are used in raising buildings
were also employed under wharves sometimes. There were rocks under
some wharves, and water was under others. Whichever it was, Willis'
father often had to go under the wharves and climb around among the
caps and stringers and piles, repairing.

Seven or eight other men were employed like Mr. Sutherland. It was
mid-forenoon, but Willis saw that three or four of the men were not
working. They were idling around the engine of the pile-driver, and
were eating something that Willis found to be cooked crabs.

"Where's father?" asked Willis. "Under