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A gentleman was walking late one night along a street in London, in which stands the hospital where some of our little friends support a bed ("The May Fair Cot," in Ormond Street Hospital) for a sick child. There were three acrobats passing along there, plodding wearily home to their miserable lodgings after their day's work; two of them were men, and they were carrying the ladders and poles with which they gave their performance in the streets whenever they could collect a crowd to look on. The third was a little boy in a clown's dress. He trotted wearily behind, very tired, and looking pale and sick. Just as they were passing the hospital the little lad's sad face brightened for a moment. He ran up the steps and dropped into the box attached to the door a little bit of paper. It was found next morning there. It contained a sixpence, and on the paper was written, "For a sick child." The one who saw it afterwards ascertained, as he tells us, that the poor little waif, almost destitute, had been sick, and in his weary pilgrimage was a year before brought to the hospital, which had been a " House Beautiful " to him, and he was there cured of his bodily disease. Hands of kindness had ministered to him, words of kindness had been spoken to him, and he had left it cured in body and whole in heart. Some one on that day in a crowd had slipped a sixpence into his hand, and that same night as he passed by, his grateful little heart gave up for other child-sufferers "all the living that he had." It was all done so quietly, so noiselessly; but oh I believe me, the sound of that little coin falling into God's treasury that night rose above the roar and din of this mighty city, and was heard with joy in the very presence of God Himself

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KJV: And he looked up, and saw the rich men casting their gifts into the treasury.

WEB: He looked up, and saw the rich people who were putting their gifts into the treasury.