As I went down the street to-day,
I saw a little lad
Whose face was just the kind of face
To make a person glad.
It was so plump and rosy-cheeked,
So cheerful and so bright,
It made me think of apple-time.
And filled me with delight.
I saw him busy at his work,
While blithe as skylark's song
His merry, mellow whistle rang
The pleasant street along.
"Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!"
I thought as I passed by;
"These busy, cheery, whistling boys
Make grand men by and by."
Just then a playmate came along,
And leaned across the gate--
A plan that promised lots of fun
And frolic to relate.
"The boys are waiting for us now,
So hurry up!" he cried;
My little whistler shook his head,
And "Can't come," he replied.
"Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know?
What hinders?" asked the other.
"Why, don't you see," came the reply,
"I'm busy helping mother?
She's lots to do, and so I like
To help her all I can;
So I've no time for fun just now,"
Said this dear little man.
"I like to hear you talk like that,"
I told the little lad;
"Help mother all you can, and make
Her kind heart light and glad."
It does me good to think of him,
And know that there are others
Who, like this manly little boy,
Take hold and help their mothers.