The wonian was old, ragged and gray, And beat with the chili of a winter Uj, The streets were whito with a recent anow, Aud the woman's feet with age were slow At the crowded Crossing she waited long, Jostled aside by the careless throng Of human beings who passed her by, l'nheeding the glance of her anxious eye. Down the stref t, with laughter and ihout, Glad with the freedom of "school let out," Come happy boy, like a dock of sheep, HalHnq; the snow piled white and deep. Past the woman, to old and sray, ¦Jt I Hastened the children on their way. None offered a helping hand to her, So wenk and timid, airaid to stir, Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet Sliould trample her down in the lippery street. At last comes out of the merry troupe The gayest boy of all the group. lic pauscd beside her and whispered low, ' I'll help you across if you wish to go." lier aged hand on his strong, young arm Shc placed, and so, without hurt or harm, He guided her trembling fet along. Then back again lo his frlend he went, His young heart happy and well content. "She's soinebody's mother, boys, you know. Kor all slic's aged, poor and slow ; And somc one some time may lend a hand To help your mother - you understand? If ever she's poor, and old, and gray, And her own dear boy is far away." "Somebody's mother" bowed low her head In her home that night, and the praycr sl.e Hid Wat : "God be kind to that noble boy, Who is somebody's son and pride and joy." l-'.iint was the voice and worn and weak, But heaven lists when iu chosen speak. Angels caught the faltering word. And "somebody's mother's" prayer wat heard.