Sing On, O Heart: A Poem

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LITTLE LIJE'S "CHANCT" 339

selves, and pa said they had not, why should they not help Little Lije on the chance that had been presented to him by Mr. McHarry? Susan Martha developed as her specialty the washing of the — outside windows a thriving industry in Silverberg at this time of the year. Jimmie stacked and split stove-wood in various sheds. Jane helped at light work in the kitchens. Peter cleaned up lawns, while Maria and Jonathan did what ever they could get. Mrs. Mozinge was elected to act as bank, and kept all the combined earnings in an old stocking. "That's an awful big pile of money, ma," observed Jimmie when two months had gone by. "But Lije he earned the most of it." Lije smiled, and his smile was worth looking at. It shone from his eyes; it parted his lips, and, by its illumination, one could read the hope he had of future good to come. His father, if he could have seen him, would never have recognized his son — in this alert, cheery mood, his son, who had now become well nigh the idol of his family! When spring came, the chicken-house and small coops were built, and everything had taken on an air of prosperity. The hens were setting, and the Mozinges were all but bursting with happiness. "I said, I warrant I would wake up Little Lije," said Mr. McHarry complacently, "but, land sakes! I've waked up the whole family."

Sing on, Heart

Sing on, O Heart, thy daily song, In gladdening harmony; Earth's misery needs the healing balm Of cheery sympathy. Sing on, Heart, though nights are long And these are stormy days. Thy melody, if glad enough, Can generate light rays. Sing on, O Heart, and weary not; Be great and good and glad. Though troubles gnaw thy very core, Sing of the joys you've had Heber, Utah Ila Fisher.