ood women make a good world, don't they? And
the better the world the farther ahead will be its civilization.
Progress is not all in wonderful discoveries of science, in fine
architecture, or in great books; much of it lies in the peoples of the
globe learning to live peacefully together and help one another.
Kindness to our neighbor, therefore, helps civilization. It cannot
avoid doing so if we live it on a large enough scale."

"I never thought of that before," meditated Carl.

"But you can see it is so, laddie," responded his mother. "A lack of
kindness and fairness in nations causes wars, and wars put the world
backward. It is in the peaceful times that nations grow. You know
yourself that you cannot build up anything when somebody else is
waiting to knock it down the minute you have it finished. Under such
conditions it hardly seems worth while to build at all. So it is with
nations the world over. When they are snarling jealously at one
another's heels, and coveting what the other possesses, how can
progress be made?"

"I suppose when they get mad they forget about the work of the world,"
Tim announced.

"That is just the trouble," agreed his mother. "Engrossed in their own
little squabbles, they lose sight of the splendid big thing they were
put here to do. In other words they forget their job, which is to make
the world and themselves better."

Slowly she glanced from one earnest face into another.

"Well, I've read you quite a sermon, haven't I?" smiled she. "And it
was all because of the Tartary lamb. Now suppose we talk of something
else--Christmas. It will be here now before we know it. What shall we
do this year? Shall it be a tree? Or shall we hang our stockings, go
without a tree, and put the money into a Christmas dinner?"

Inquiringly she studied her children's faces.

"I suppose a tree does cost quite a lot before you are through with
it," reflected the prudent Mary.

"And we have the municipal tree in the park, anyway," Carl put in in an
attempt to be optimistic.

"But that tree isn't ours, our very own tree," Tim began to wail.

"It is lots bigger than any tree we could have, Timmie," asserted his
older brother. "And think of the lights! They are all electric. We
couldn't have lights like those here at home."

"I know," grieved Tim. "But it isn't our tree--just ours--in our
house."

"A Christmas tree costs ever so much money, Timmie," Mary explained
gently. "Mother can't buy us a tre