How the children of the streets chased them, calling them gypsies, how the very dogs barked at them, how she sat down at last on a doorstep, and cried to think that she had come to Christian America, and could find no friend; all these things are deeply interesting. I wish you could have heard her tell them. Was it not wonderful that at last she should have found the very friend whom she sought? a policeman spoke kindly to her, took her into a store, looked in a directory for her, and found that her friend was Doctor Dulles, on Chestnut street. After that, the way to rest and help was smooth; she began to realize that she was indeed in a Christian country. For three years she has been living in Philadelphia. She goes over the country to visit churches, and Mission Bands, wherever she is invited, to tell her beautiful, and sorrowful, and joyful, and altogether wonderful story. PANSY. - - - - - - - Happiness is a perfume that one cannot shed over another without a few drops falling on one's self. AT NUMBER FIVE. THE scholars at Number Five, or many of them, brought a noon-day lunch instead of going home to dinner. And very pleasant times they had, sitting under the trees in summer, picnic fashion, or gathering in little groups in doors, in winter. Sometimes they had games after lunch, and sometimes the teacher told stories. One day she told them a story of a missionary hen, and straightway several of the scholars determined to have missionary hens. Helen Lynch pondered the matter, but saw no way of getting the hen. Her father might give her one, but she was not sure; she had heard him say that missions were a humbug, and she had little hope of his co-operation in the scheme. She was walking slowly along the river path when she heard a fluttering on the bank and a sound which seemed like that of a bird in distress. Putting down her lunch basket and umbrella she went to see what was the matter and found hid among the tall grass a young duck that seemed to be hurt in some way. "It must be Mr. Brown's," she said to herself, "for I do not know of any one else who has young ducks," and she took the frightened and suffering duck in her arms and carried it to Mr. Brown, but that gentleman looking down upon the little girl smilingly said, "See here, little one, what would you do with it if it were yours?" "I'd try to make it well, and then I'd make a missionary duck of it." "A missionary duck! What is that?" Then Helen explained that a missionary hen was one the proceeds of which in eggs and chickens were set apart by the owner for missionary money and of course a missionary duck would be the same. Mr. Brown laughed. "Well, that is a funny idea. Suppose I give you a pair--that is, I will give you this one if you will cure it, and I will give you a mate to it and we will see how much money you make out of the investment."