And the smile on Anna’s face spoke plainly of a happy heart. MARY AND HER DOLLS. Was there ever a time when the first doll was born? Was there ever a time when little boys and girls, especially little girls, did not love dolls and did not have something of that nature to play with? It would appear that dolls, or playthings somewhat like unto dolls, are as old as babies themselves--that is to say, boys and girls, that ever since there have been little children in the world there have been little things for them to play with. And I never saw a sane person in my life who regrets that it is so. It is not only amusing, it is inspiring to see the little children making merry with their dolls and their toy animals and their little express wagons and their wooden guns and their toy steam engines and their whistles and their balloons and their brownies and their jumping-jacks and their hobby-horses and a hundred and one other things. [Illustration: MARY AND HER DOLLS.] Mary had put away her dolls for the night and was cleaning the doll house when papa came in. “How many doll babies have you now, Mary?” he asked. “I have five dolls now, papa,” said Mary, “but only one is a baby--that is little Flossie. Robbie and Nell are three years old now; Mattie is two and Jerusha is one year old. Flossie is now the only little baby.” The Rev. Dr. Smithson smiled. “Well,” he said after a time, “five dolls make a big family, I think.” “I don’t,” said Mary quickly. “Rolla Mays has thirteen girls and two boys in her doll family, and I haven’t but five in all!” “I shouldn’t think,” said Dr. Smithson, “that Rolla would know what to do with so many.” “Why, papa, of course she does!” “Mary,” said Dr. Smithson, looking thoughtfully at his little daughter, “I have a little girl in my Sunday school class who hasn’t a single doll. I thought you might like to give her one of yours. You could spare one--couldn’t you?” “Oh, papa, I couldn’t--not a one,” exclaimed Mary. “Not one--when this poor little girl hasn’t any?” “Oh, papa, I love my dolls so--how can I give them away?” “You’d have four left--wouldn’t that be enough?” Mary thought a long while before speaking. She looked distressed. “Papa,” she said at last, “Mrs. Grant was over here the other day, and she said that she wished you and mamma would give me to her because she didn’t have any little girl of her own. You’ve got five children yourself, papa--but would you give any of ’em away just because you would have four left?” Dr. Smithson took his little daughter in his arms and kissed her. “No, dear,” he said; “papa wouldn’t give any one of his children away. You may keep all of your dollies, and we’ll think of some other way to help poor little Hattie.” The next morning Mary said: