"What do you say?" said the Work to be Done. "Shall we start bravely together, Up with the morning sun, Sing, whatever the weather?" Come, little busy folks, what do you say? Let's begin fairly together to-day. Shall we keep step with a laugh and a song All through the runaway morning? And when the noontide comes speeding along, Whistling his chorus of warning, "Then," said the Work to be Done, "let us see Who has kept in the hurry with me?" Hark, in the midst of the long afternoon, When you are a little bit weary, How all the meadows keep sweetly in time, Toiling, and prattling and cheery. "What do you say?" said the Work to be Done, "Shall we be comrades till the setting of sun?" --_Selected._ A GREAT FIGHT Tom, Uncle John told me last night that he was going to make a hard fight. I thought he was going to war. He could not tell me all about this fight then, because some one came for him, to go to see a sick child. When I went to bed, I dreamed Uncle John was a soldier, and that he had on a uniform, and was riding away on a big black horse. In my dream, I could hear the bugle blow. Then I dreamed he was fighting wild beasts. My! how hot I got while I was dreaming this. This morning, when I told Uncle John about my dream, he said he was going to fight something that did more harm than wild beasts. He told me that, as soon as I helped mother, to come over to his office, and he would tell me all about it. I could scarcely eat my breakfast, I was in such a hurry to learn what my Uncle John was going to fight. I could just see him with a sword buckled to his side, getting on a big war-horse, galloping off to the music of fife and drum. After breakfast, I ran to the office. "Well, my boy," said Uncle John, "you have come to learn about the big fight your peace-loving Uncle is going to make. I am fighting for others, not for myself, and I hope we will win this fight. "I will show you the enemy, he is in ambush." My eyes were wide open when Uncle said that. Uncle John walked quickly over to a shelf and took down a bottle of "Soothing Syrup." I wondered what he was going to do, when he returned and said, "This bottle holds one of the greatest enemies of little innocent children. It contains opium. Opium is a poison. Little babies don't need it. Sometimes a mother will give too large a dose, and kill her little one. The mother does not know that the 'soothing' part of the syrup is opium. "The English people have told the makers of such stuff that they must take the opium out of it, or label the bottle _poison_. Much of this kind of medicine is sold. The people do not know how harmful it is. I am going to fight this enemy of little babies to the last ditch.