ANDREW AND HIS GIFTS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXII, Issue XVIII, 6 May 1899, Page 635

ANDREW AND HIS GIFTS.

Andrew Lang was eight years old. He had a kind papa and mamma who could buy him almost everything he wanted. He lived in a nice house and had nice clothes and lots of playthings. But he knew there were a great many little boys whose parents were too poor to buy them what they needed, and he had been taught that he must always be glad to give his toys to them and help them in anyway he could. One day his mamma said: ‘Andrew, would you like to go with me to the Children’s Hospital to-day?’ ‘Oh, yes, mamma. You know I told poor, lame Johnnie Ford the last time I was there I would come again as soon as you would let me and bring him something nice to play- with.’ ‘And, Andrew, there’s that tiny tot, Susie Lee. We must find her a pretty picture book.’ So Mrs Lang and Andrew filled a basket with toys and another with oranges, apples and candy. ‘Oh, mamma, isn’t this like what papa was reading about this morning, when Jesus sent His disciples out in pairs, just as we two going together? And I’m Andrew and you’ll have to be Peter, even if you are my mamma. Oh, isn’t it funny? Didn’t your name use to be Mollie Peters once?’ ‘Yes, Andrew; so we will go to-day as Peter and Andrew, and think all the while that Jesus has sent us, for we really are going on His errand.’ So they stepped into a cable car and climbed one steep hill after another. The Children’s Hospital was a large white house, with pleasant windows on every side, and the yard was full of lovely flowers, roses, fuchsias, geraniums, lilies and hosts of others. There was a nice playground for the children who were well enough to go out of doors. But Andrew and his mamma did not stop there. They went upstairs into a large room with ever so many little beds with clean white spreads, and in them were little children with thin, white faces and thin, white hands: not fresh rosy cheeks and plump, dimpled hands like Andrew’s. Some of the children were sitting in chairs, a few were playing around the room, but something was the matter with all of them. Some hail broken arms or legs, some had been burned or hurt.

and some were sick. Some had no father* and mothers to take care of them, and some of the parents were too poor to pay doctors and buy medicine. This pleasant home had been built by kind people who loved little children, and who hired nurses and doctors to try and make them well again.

Andrew could not wait to speak to anybody, but hurried along to the farther end of the room, where poor, lame Johnnie Ford lay propped up with pillows. ‘Oh, Johnnie, I’ve come, and see what I’ve brought you. Grandpa Peters gave it to me last Christmas. It’s a music box. I’ll wind it up alid it will make you laugh to see the soldiers come out of that little house and dance.’ And Johnnie did laugh. And the children who were playing around ran up to see. and they laughed and elapped their hands. And the little children in the white beds raised their white faces as well as they could and tried their best to laugh with the rest. Such a happy lot as they were, as Johnnie went around and gave every girl and every boy toys and picture books. They were all so happy they almost forgot for a while their aches and pains. When it was time to leave Andrew went to say good-by to Johnnie Ford. ‘Oh, Johnnie,’ said he, ‘l’m so happy. Tt’s better than Christmas. Papa tells me true, when he says it is nicer to give things away, than to keep them.’