A teacher in the South writes:—­“We have had a Merry Christmas trying to make others happy.  The people have never done so much for others before.  We found an old couple in very destitute circumstances, and asked the school children if they would not like to do something for them.  It was very interesting to see them bring their gifts of a little sugar, meal, flour, or an armful of wood, a potato, a little salt, whatever they could get.  It did them good.  After our Christmas exercises at the church, we took quite a number of the children around to see the old people, and they sang their Christmas songs.  I don’t know which enjoyed it most, the children or the old people.

Some young men of the Sunday-school paid a month’s rent for a poor woman.  We are doing more than ever this year in getting the young people to go and hold prayer meetings, or read to those who cannot get out to church.”

* * * * *

FOR THE CHILDREN.

HOW SUSY WENT TO TOUGALOO.

You never could guess just how she went, if you should try from now until your next birthday, so I’ll tell you first how she came to go to Tougaloo at all.

To begin with, Mamma Bradley had been rummaging about in the attic a long time, when little Fay set out to find her.

“What are you doing up here, mamma?” said Fay.  “I’ve been hunting for you ever so long.”

“Oh, I’m looking for some things to put in the barrel that is going to Tougaloo for the poor people that the missionaries are working for.”

“Clothes?” said Fay.

“Yes, clothes, and I suppose they would be glad of almost anything that would help to make their lives more comfortable,” said her mother.

Fay sat down in an old basket and watched her mother fold and unfold the contents of trunks and boxes so quietly, that Mrs. Bradley finally looked up and said: 

“Why don’t you go to your play, dear?  What are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking,” said Fay, “do you s’pose the Tougaloo folks have any little girls?”

“Oh, yes, plenty of them.”

“Big’s me?”

“Yes, all sizes, I suppose,” said Mrs. Bradley, going on with her work.

“Well,” said Fay, “I was thinking, how d’you s’pose they’d like Susy?”

“What! the new dolly that Auntie gave you for keeping your elbows off the table?”

“Yes’m,” said Fay.  “Do you s’pose she’d make a little Tougaloo girl’s life any more comfor’ble?”

“Why, yes, dear, anything that gives you so much pleasure would please them, of course,” said her mother, “but are you quite sure you want to give Susy away?”

“Well, when Auntie gave us our missionary boxes in the Sunday-school class, she told us to be sure and remember what was printed on them, and she read on one side something about people giving their first fruits, and she said it meant their best things, and on top it said, ’Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.’  Now Susy is my best doll—­any way I love her best, and there couldn’t be anybody much leaster than a little girl like me way down in Tougaloo, could there, mamma?”