• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Happy hours
 Back Cover














Group Title: Happy hours : a rare collection of stories and sketches for young people from the writings of well known authors
Title: Happy hours
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00082897/00001
 Material Information
Title: Happy hours a rare collection of stories and sketches for young people from the writings of well known authors
Physical Description: 122 p. : col. ill. ; 26 cm.
Language: English
Creator: W.B. Conkey Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: W.B. Conkey Company
Place of Publication: London ;
New York ;
Chicago
Publication Date: c1894
 Subjects
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1894   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1894   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1894
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: profusely illustrated.
General Note: Original illustrated paper boards.
General Note: Illustrations and text in blue, red, green or black.
General Note: Contains prose and verse.
General Note: Copy imperfect: very poor condition.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00082897
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223767
notis - ALG4019
oclc - 04388187

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Frontispiece
        Page 1
    Title Page
        Page 2
        Page 3
    Happy hours
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text



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HAPPY HOURS


A RARE COLLECTION OF STORIES


FOR

YOUNG PEOPLE


FROM THE WRITINGS OF WELL KNOWN AUTHORS







PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED







LONDON--NEW YORK-CHICAGO:


W. B. CONKEY COMPANY, PUBLISHERS.


AND SKETCHES


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COPYRIGHTED,
W. B. CONKEY COMPANY,
,1894.
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LONG AFORE HE KNOWED.

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.

JES' a little bit o' feller-I remember still-
Ust to almost cry for Christmas, like a youngster will,
Fourth o' July's nothing' to it!-New-Year's aint a, smell!-
Easter Sunday-Circus-day-jes' all dead in the shell!
Lordy, though! at night, you know, to set around and hear
The old folks work the story off about the sledge and, deer,
And "Santy" shooting' round the roof, all wrapped in fur and fuz-
Long afore
I knowed who
Santy Claus" wuz.
Ust to wait, and sit up later a week er two ahead;
Couldn't hardly keep awake, ner wouldn't go to bed;
Kittle stewin' on the fire, and mother setting' near
Darnin' socks, and rockin' in the skreeky rockin'-cheer;
Pap gap' and wonder where it wus the money went,
And quar'l with his frosted heels, and spill his liniment;
And we a-dreamin' sleigh-bells when the clock ud whir and buzz-
Long afore
I knowed who
Santy Claus" wuz!
Size the fire-place, and bigger how "Old Santy" could
Manage to come down the chimbly, like they said he would;
Wisht that I could hide and see him-wondered what he'd say
Ef he ketched a feller layin' for him thataway?
But I bet on him, and liked him, same as if he had
Turned to pat me on the back and say, "Look a here, my lad:
Here's my pack-jes' he'p yourself like all good boys does!"
Long afore
I knowed who
"Santy Claus" wuz.
Wisht that yarn wuz true about him as it 'peared to be,
Truth made out o' lies like that-un's good enough fer me.
Wisht I still wuz so confidin' I could jus' go wild
Over hangin' up my stockin's like the little child
Climbin' in my lap to-night, and begin' me to tell
'Bout them reindeers, and Old Santy" that she loves so well;
I'm half sorry for this little girl sweetheart of his-
Long afore
She knows who
Santy Claus" isl







OH, OH, THE MISTLETOE.


OF all the nights within the year,
Oh, oh, the misletoe!
That's the night to lovers dear,
Oh, oh, the mistletoe!
When blushing lips that smile at folly,
As red as berries on the holly,
Kiss, and banish melancholy,
Oh, oh, the misletoe !


MR. TOPPER'S SHAMEFUL CONDUCT.

CHARLES DICKENS.

UT they didn't devote the whole evening to music. After awhile they
played at forfeits, for it is good to be children sometimes, and never bet-
ter than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself. Stop!
There was first a game at blind man's buff. Of course there was. And I no
more believe Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes in his boots.
My opinion is that it was a done thing between him and Scrooge's nephew,
and that the Ghost of Christmas Present knew it. The way he went after
that plump sister in the lace tucker was an outrage on the credulity of human
nature. Knocking down the fire-irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping
up against the piano, smothering himself amongst the curtains, wherever she
went, there went he! He always knew where the plump sister was. He
wouldn't catch anybody else. If you had fallen up against him (as some of
them did) on purpose, he would have made a feint of endeavoring to seize
you, which would have been an affront to your understanding, and would
instantly have sidled off in the direction of the plump sister. She often
cried out that it wasn't fair, and it really was not. But when at last he
caught her; when in spite of all her silken rustlings, and her rapid flutter-
ings past him, he got her into a corner whence there was no escape, then
his conduct was the most execrable. For his pretending not to know her,
his pretending that it was necessary to touch her head dress, and further to
assure himself of her identity by pressing a certain ring upon her finger, and
a certain chain upon her neck, was vile, monstrous No doubt she told him
her opinion of it when, another blind-man being in office, they were so very
confidential together behind the curtains.







WINSOMrE, DAINTY, DARLING-RUiTH.
w. TREGO VIBB.
BABY Ruth, lady fair,
Mamma's dearest prize,
With the sunlight in your hair
And such gladness in your eyes -
How I wonder what your will is,
Winsome Ruth I
When you suddenly, untaught,
Clap your hands amain,
Is it that some new, sweet thought
Flashes through your brain
Come, unriddle what your will is,
Dainty Ruthl
When you, thoughtful on the floor,
Like a birdling sit-
Twenty different notes try o'er
In a pretty talking fit-
How I wonder what you're thinking,
Saucy Ruth.
But when you come crawling after
Me, with eyes ashine,
And with sudden burst of laughter
Stretch your small plump arms to mine--
Ah I know then what your wish is,
Darling Ruth.

THE STORY OF A DROP OF WATER.
"TT has been more than 200 years since I
L passed along here the first time," was
the astonishing statement of a-stranger who.
had been paddling down White River, and
who stopped in the shade of the old covered
bridge at Washington street.
There were no bridges over the stream
then, and no reporters here to interview me.
In fact, there is little here to remind me of
my first trip. This stream has drawn into
its bed like a turtle into its shell since my
early days. It used to swell out through all
these lowlands. There was no bottom to the
water and you couldn't see across it when I
was a boy."
"Are you sure this is the same stream?"
"There can't be any mistake about it. I
never err in these matters. The course of
streams do not change, even if they shrink
from rivers to brooks. I spent several days
in this latitude before, and for a whole week
was laid up against a big hill which stood
out of the water north of here."
"How often do you make these tours?"
"Irregularly. I am always on the go, but
I can't control my course entirely. I belong
to a roving, restless, irrepressible and almost
indestructible race. One year I am in Aus-
tralia; another I am up on the Andes


Mountains. Now I am up on Hudson Bay;
anon in Yucatan. My periods of rest ere few,
yet I never tire. Sometimes I am cut off
from many of my tribe, but if I can't reach
them one way I do another. My favorite
routes are down the courses of rivers. I
never travel over land, and if I lose my way
or get off into a pond or slough that has no
connections with living waters, I bide my
time with the frogs and snake-feeders."
"You mean that you stay with them until
a freshet cones, which enables you to sail
out into the waterways?"
"No. Sometimes that is the case, but if
I get tired of waiting, and become weary of
my companions, I shake the mud off my
feet, put away terrestrial shape and form, fade
into the invisible, and, rising high in the
air, seek friends and congenial climes."
"Who are you, that you do these things?"
"I am a drop of water. Now you can
understand why I am old without being
gray; how it is that I travel constantly by
stream or air, range over the wide creation,
and sometimes by chance, as fluid or vapor
make second and even third trips to the
same place. But I must be away. I am
billed to play a part in a cloudburst in-Ouba
on the 11th of this month."
And the shining drop ran along a drowsy
fisherman's line and dropped off on to a black
bass's back, and was lost among a million
fellow-travelers.

NIGHT AND THE COOLING DEW.
Mrs. LUTHER KEENE.
'TIGHT is not good, mother I
I1 I love the shining light,
The merry, singing birds,
And our red roses bright.
Why do you say good night ?"
"Red roses droop, my child,
Beneath the shining sun;
Bright birds that sing at morn
Swiftly, when day is done,
Seek their still nests, each one.
Night brings the cooling dew
To grass and flower and tree;
Brings rest to beast and bird;
Sweet sleep to you and me,
And all on land or sea.
And so, to all that live,
We love to say Good night.'
Oh, may it bring to you
Sweet dreams of all things bright.
Good night, my child, good nightly"







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THE SONG OF THE CHICKENS..


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LIEUTENANT-GENERAL PHILIP HENRY
SHERIDAN.
THOMAS W. HANDFORD.
ONE of the most intrepid and one of the
best beloved military leaders-of the
War of the Rebellion was Lieutenant-General
Philip Henry Sheridan. He was the son of
poor parents who had emigrated from County
Cavan, Ireland, a few years before the birth
of the future warrior. Sheridan was born
in Perry County, in Southern Ohio, and
shared the advantages and hardships com-
mon to the sons of poor people in this part
of the country half a century or more ago.
He went to the public school till he was
about twelve years of age. It is said that he
started life by driving a water-cart in Zanes-
ville-a very useful, and in the hot summer
months, a very welcome occupation. We next
find him working in the store of John Tal-
bot, of Somerset, for two dollars a month,
thence at the store of David Whitehead, where
he earned five dollars a month; and after a
while he is to be found working for Henry
Dittoe, where he received the munificent sal-
ary of ten dollars a month. In due time we
find him at West Point preparing for that
career in which he was destined to become
famous. He graduated on the 1st of-July,
1853, and was appointed a brevet second lieu-
tenant, and was assigned to CompanyD, First
Infantry. He was sent to Fort Duncan in
Texas. But it was in the full tide of the
angry war that Sheridan came to the front.
His history is interwoven with the most stir-
ring pages of that terrible strife. His gal-
lantry at Chickamauga and at Chattanooga
resulted in his being made Lieutenant-Gen-
eral by General Grant. Among his many
successes, apart from the final scene at Five
Forks and Sailor Creek, the- famous Win-
chester Ride will be remembered with pride
as long as the story of the war is told. That
episode has been enshrined in song, and will
take its place among the heroic classics of
our literature. This brave warrior was loved,
almost idolized, by the men under his com-
mand. They called him "Little Phil," and
that name on their lips meant the highest
kind of praise, and it may be, that, under-
standing all its meaning, General Sheridan
esteemed it as amongst his greatest honors.
"When 'Little Phil' called to arms, we
were always ready," said an old soldier who
had fought under him; "we would have
followed him to prison or to death, for,


while he was strong for discipline, he treated
his men with tender human consideration,"
The valiant General died suddenly of heart
disease, on Sunday, August 5, 1888, at
Nonquitt, Massachusetts, in the fifty-eighth
year of his age. Grateful for the services he
rendered to his country in the hour of her
greatest need, we may say, in the words of
Shakespeare,
"After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well."

THREE LITTLE BIRDS.
T. C. HARBArrGH.
THREE little birds in a silken nest
In a tree-top high were singing,
The bough that bore them east and west
In a stormy wind was swinging.
A child looked up with anxious eye-
0 three little birds together,
So near the sky,
With the storm so high,
Say, do you not mind the weather?"
"Why should we mind it, wee little boy,
Though hard the wind is blowing?
We're just as safe as you in your joy,
Down where the grass is growing.
We do not fear when tempests roar,
Up here in our nest together;
We sing the more
Till the storm is o'er;
We know who makes the weather!"
Dear little birds, your bough bends so!
It is not still one minute;
I would not be in your nest, I know,
For the world and all that's in it."
'Nay, little boy, our house is small-
Too small for us all together,
And you might fall
O'er the silken wall
When we rock in the weather."
"Fear not for uswlien low or high
We in the winds are swinging;
Now near the ground, now near the sky-
You'll always hear us singing,
We see you run, little boy, from play
When rain drops kiss the heathei--
You scamper away
While we are gay;
We know who makes the weather"

TRUE WEALTH.
PATRICK HENRY.
I HAVE now disposed of all my property to
my family; there is one thing more I
wish I could give them, and that is the
Christian religion. If they had that, and I
had not given them one shilling, they would
be rich; and if they had not that and I had
given them all the world, they would be
poor.

































































LIEUT.-GENERAL PHILIP HENRY SHERIDAN.





















































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ON BOARD THE MABEL DURAPE.


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ON BOARD THE "MABEL DRAPER."
T. W. .
LAREMONT CHURCH is one of the
Largest churches in one of the largest
cities of America. And in connection with
this church there is a large Sunday-school
of nearly seven hundred teachers and schol-
ars. Mr. Fred Williams is superintendent
of the Sunday-school, and his heart was set
on giving the young people a day's pleasure
on the lake. His appeal to the members of
the church and congregation was responded
to most generously, and the good ship
"Mabel Draper" was chartered for a bright
day at the end of August. It was quite a
grand sight when the day arrived to see the
"Mabel Draper," with nearly a thousand
people on board, steam out from the dock,
with banners flying and bands playing, and
hundreds of merry shining faces full of an-
ticipation of a happy day on the lake. There
was lunch on board, and after lunch games
and singing. Then Mr. Williams made a
little speech, thanking the generous friends
who had provided this pleasant day of es-
cape from the noise and heat of the city. In
conclusion Mr. Williams said that as long as
he lived, Claremont Sunday-school would
always be amongst his chief delights. The
Pastor made a little speech, then there was
more singing. By this time the sun had set
and the moon arose and made a great high-
way of light upon the waters. By nine
o'clock all the company was safely landed
after one of the happiest days they had ever
spent.
THE HISTORY AND SAD FATE OF TEN
LITTLE CHICKENS.
LUCY S. V. KING.
TEN downy chickens from ten yellow eggs,
Toddling around on sturdy little legs.
Ten little chicks basking in the sun,
Down turned to'feathers-thrifty every one.
Ten big chickens-preacher come to dine,
Chicken pie for dinner-then there were nine.
Nine sleepy chickens-preacher staid late,
Fricasse for supper-then there were eight.
Eight bad chickens to garden scratching given,
Soup for sick neighbor-then there were seven.
Seven grown chickens, full of bad tricks,
Children had a picnic-then there were six.
Six fine chickens at the set of sun,
When the sun rises there's not a single one.
Gone away to market-twelve jingling dimes
In the mistress'pocket-so ends the rhymes.


CHRIST AND THE CHILDREN.
JOAQUIN MILLER.
ANDthey brought Him their babes and besought
.1 Him
Half kneeling, with suppliant air,
To bless the brown cherubs they brought Him,
With holy hands laid in their hair.
Then reaching His hands, He said, lowly,
Of such is My Kingdom;" and then
Took the brown little babes in the holy
White hands of the Saviour of men:
Held them close to His heart and caress'd them,
Put His face down to theirs as in prayer,
Put their hands to His neck, and so bless'd them
With baby hands hid in His hair.

CUNNING SWALLOWS.
B IRDS are often said to possess instinct,
as distinguished from intelligence, by
which is meant, apparently, that such knowl-
edge as they have is inherited, not acquired.
"A bird always builds its nest in.one way,"
it is said, but few statements could be less
exact. Our common "cliff swallow," known
also as the "eaves swallow" and the "Repub-
lican," formerly built against the face of a
cliff, and as a protection against the weather,
the nest, instead of being open at the top,
was bottle shaped, the entrance being
through a kind -of neck at the side. Now
that the country has become populous,
however, this swallow has taken to nestling
under the eaves of barns, where it is
shielded from rain by the overhanging
roof.
Little by little, therefore, the wise bird
has given up its more elaborate method of
construction, till now you may see, side by
side, nests that are simple mud saucers,
nests that are built in the old-fashioned
bottled method, and nests half-way between
the two extremes, showing plainly that a
process of adaptation is going on.
A Pennsylvania newspaper lately reported
a very clever piece of work by a pair of these
same eaves swallows. They had built a
nest in the old style under the eaves of a
barn, and when it was done an English
sparrow took possession. The swallows
made frantic efforts to dislodge the intruder,
but could not drive her out. Then they
went deliberately to work and plastered up
the neck of the bottle with mud, burying
the sparrow alive, after which they built
another nest close by, and occupied it as if
nothing had happened.







THE STRANGER FROM BABYLAND.
OHnALES X. SNYDER.
SOMEBODY turn to us las' night,
The dearestlittle midget;
He's des as wee as he tan be;
He turn all by hisself, an'he
Des laughs, an' cries, an' winks at me,
An' keeps mein a fidget.
He des tur in from babyland,
The angels bwung him over;
And papa told me that he found
The little fellow on the ground,
An' he was sleeping des as sound
As I do in the clover.
'Tourse I ain't sorry that he turn;
I'se glad to see him-only
I wants some love and tisses, too;
For since he turn, they don't-boo-ho !-
Play wis me like they ust-to-do,
An' I is awful lonely.
He's des bran new-an' that is why
They fuss about him, maybe;
An' papa said I musn't cwy
'Tause he'd det bigger by an' by,
But ain't he little now ? Oh, my 1-
He's only des a baby.
Dood dracious !-won't he ever stop ?
I tan't hear nuffin near him.
No wonder all the angels thought
That they could spare this little tot-
He cwies so much; that's why they brought
Him where they couldn't hear him !

THE TOILET OF THE FLY.
T HE toilet of the fly is as carefully
attended to as that of the most friv-
olous of human beings. With a contempt
for the looking-glass, he brushes himself up
and wabbles his little round head, chuck full
of vanity, wherever he happens to be.
Sometimes after a long day of dissipation
with his six small legs and little round body
all soiled with syrup and butter and cream,
he passes out of the dining-room and wings
his way to the clean white cord along which
the morning-glories climb, and in this retired
spot, heedless of the crafty spider who is
practicing gymnastics a few feet above him,
he proceeds to purify and sweeten himself
for the refreshing repose and soft dreams of
the balmy summer night, so necessary to
one who is expected to be early at breakfast.
It is a wonderful toilet. Resting himself on
his front and middle legs, he throws his hind
legs rapidly over his body, binding down his
frail wings for an instant with the pressure,
then raking them over with a backward
motion, which he repeats until they are


bright and clean. Then he pushes the two
legs along his body under the wings, giving
that queer structure a thorough currying,
every now and then throwing the legs out
and rubbing them together to remove what
he has collected from his corporal surface.
Next he goes to work upon his van. Rest-
ing upon his hind and middle legs, he raises
his two fore legs and begins a vigorous scrap-
ing of head and shoulders, using his proboscis
every little while to push the accumulation
from his limbs. At times he is so energetic
that it seems as if he were trying to pull his
head off, but no fly ever committed suicide.
Some of his motions very much resemble
pussy at her toilet. It is plain, even to the-
naked eye, that he does his work thoroughly,
for when he is finished he looks like a new
fly, so clean and neat has he made himself
within a few minutes. The white cord is
defiled, but floppy is himself again, and he
bids the morning glories a very good-evening.

SNAP WENT THE TONGS.
YOU have often heard, "It takes two to
make a quarrel." Do you believe it ?
I'll tell you how one of my little friends
managed. Dolly never came to see Marjorie
without a quarrel. Marjorie tried to speak
gently; but no matter how hard she tried,
Dolly finally ihade her so angry that she
would soon speak sharp words too. Oh,
what shall I do ?" cried poor little Marjorie.
"Suppose you try this plan," said her
mamma. "The next time Dolly comes in,
seat yourself in front of the fire and take the
tongs in your hand. Whenever a sharp
word comes from Dolly, gently snap the
tongs, withoutspeakinga oord." Soon after-
ward in marched Dolly to see her little friend.
It was not a quarter of an hour before Dolly's
temper was ruffled, and her voice was raised,
and, as usual, she began to find fault and
scold. Marjorie flew to the hearth and seized
the tongs, snapping them gently More
angry words from Dolly. Snap went the
tongs. More still. Snap. Why don't you
speak?" screamed Dolly in a fury. Snap
went the tongs. "Speak !"she said. Snap
was the only answer. "I'll never, never
come again, never!" cried Dolly. Away she
went. Did she keep her promise? No, in-
deed She came the ntxt day, but seeing
Marjorie run for the tongs, she solemnly
said, if she would only let them alone, they
would quarrel no more forever and ever.












~-zd


Z


APIIL DAYS FOR ME.
L. E. LANDON.
OF all the months that fill tho On every bough there is a bud,
XJ year In every bud a flower;
Give April's month to me, But scarcely-bud or flower will last
For earth and sky are then so filled Beyond the present hour.
With sweet variety.
Now comes a shower cloud o'er the
The apple-blossoms' shower of sky,
pearl, Then all again sunshine;
Though blent with rosier hue- Then clouds again, but brightened
As beautiful as woman's blush, with
As evanescent too. The rainbow's colored line.
Ay, this, this is the month for me!
I could not love a scene
Where the blue sky was always blue,
The green earth always green.


-


E








AT THE GATE.
A CROWD of eager youthful faces
Watching at the garden gate
To claim a father's fond embraces,
Patiently they watch and wait !
When his daily toil is ended,
With the slow declining sun,
Homeward he will swiftly hasten
There to greet each little one,
A crowd of joyful, youthful faces
Gaze across the verdant plain,
And happiness all doubt displaces-
Father's coming home again I"
Boisterously clinging round him,
Loth their loving hold to part-
Olh how sweet the household picture I
Father-children heart to heart 1

A BRAVE MOUSE.
I AM going to tell you about a very brave
little mouse. It is a perfectly true story,
and I think you will agree that if courage
and self-devotion make a heroine, this little
mousey may well be considered one.
Many years ago I was sitting sketching a
little bit of Compton Castle, in Devonshire.
This beautiful old feudel manor-house is sit-
uated in a retired spot. Very few visitors
go to see it. It is quite out of the-beaten
track, but the seclusion is another charm in
the eyes of those who know the beautiful old
ruin. On thisparticular afternoon I had se-
lected for my subject an old doorway and a
broken stair or two leading to a ruined tur-
ret. It was a lovely day in early autumn;
everything was still and quiet, save the hum
of the bees and the twittering of the birds in
the ivy. I was quite absorbed in my work,
when, presently, a rustling sound among the
withered leaves at my feet attracted my at-
tention, and looking down I saw, a fewsteps
from me, a little field mouse. It darted a
quick glance at me from its bright bead-like
eyes, and then rushed across the enclosure
where I was sitting, carrying in its mouth
a tiny ball. I watched it disappear under
the wall of the turret. "It must be laying
in a store for the winter," thought I "but
I am surprised that the nuts should be ripe
already. With this reflection I began to
draw again. Presently rustle, rustle, went
the dry leaves, and I looked up to see my lit-
tie friend scamper backover the same ground
and disappear on my right hand.
I had scarcely drawn another stroke before
Dame Mousey reappeared with burden num-
ber two. I was now thoroughly interested,
and resolved to watch her movements closely.


Poor little creature she was evidently afraid
of me, for she dropped her load half-way and
turned a keen, searching glance upon me.
Then, as if reassured, she picked up her bur-
den,-hastened to the hole in the turret wall,
deposited her treasure, and darted back -
through the archway once more. Hardly a
moment passed before she returned with an-
other little ball in her mouth. This time she
did not stop to look at me, but made straight
for the wall. I sat motionless and watched,
but when she reappeared with her sixth bur-
,den, my curiosity had grown so strong that I
rose and stood between her and her retreat.
She stopped at my feet, dropped her load, a
tiny, tiny mouse, and looked at me with be-
seeching eyes. Finding I did not stir, she
picked up her little treasure and carried it off.
I waited and waited; she did not reappear, so
I felt sure she had gathered all her little
brood in safety around her. Then it struck
me as odd that she should carry her young
ones to a new home. It was evidently a hard
task, for the poor little mouse was panting
terribly as she stood at my feet.
I wondered what could have disturbed her
in her former home, and going cautiously
through the archway, under which she had
passed so many times, found the mystery,
solved at once. A large cat lay basking in thb
sun, happily for Dame Mousey, fast asleep.
No doubt he was lying close to her former
nest, and the poor mother's heart must have
beat with terrible anxiety as she made that
perilous journey six times, at the risk of life
and limb, for the sake of her little brood.
Am I not right in saying that she was a
heroine ?
-*
BANKING THAT LEADS TO
BANKRUPTCY.
OST banks yield fair interest on all
deposits. Some are foolish enough to
make the saloon their bank. The result ia
loss and ruin.
You deposit your money-and lose it!
Your time-and lose itl
Your character-and lose it!
Your strength-and lose it
Your manly independence-and lose it!
Your self control-and lose it!
Your home comfort-and lose itl
Your wife's happiness-and lose iti
Your children's happiness-and lose itt
Your own soul-and lose itl



































































AT THE GATE.








SABBATH CHIMES.
A SABBATH IN PATMOS.
THOMAS W. TANDTORD.
Welcome, sweet day of rest,
That saw the Lord arise;
Welcome to this reviving breast,
And these rejoicing eyes.
The King Himself comes near
To feast His saints to-day;
Here may we sit and see lim here,
And love and praise and pray.
One day amidst the place
Where Christ, my Lord, has been
Js better than ten thousand days
Of pleasure and of sin.
T HE island that is called Patmos and the
little town of Bedford, in England,
would never have been known to the world
aL large but for the fact that two men who
lived seventeen centuries apart-John the
Evangelist and John Bunyan-bore their
testimony ,for Christ in these respective
places. No one thinks now of Patmos, that
only isle, the penal settlement of ancient
Rome, without thinking of John, and of
those visions all on fire with God, which the
ahnrch through many ages has called her
Book of Revelation; and no one makes a
pilgrimage to Bedford now, except to see the
place where John Bunyan dreamed his
immortal dream, or to take a walk to Elstow
and visit the old church and the village
green and the place where the author of the
"Pilgrim's Progress" was born. Patmos
and Bedford have become immortal because
of these two men. They changed penal
settlements into sacred shrines; they filled
island and dungeon with deathless song, and
painted pictures to cheer the world's eye and
heart that will last as long as the sun and
the moon endure. But if these places have
become immortal because of these songs,
what of the men? How did they become
immortal? The answer is near and simple.
Their names were linked with Christ's; and
by fidelity and continuance in His kingdom
and patience they won for themselves an
everlasting name. We should never have
heard of the fisherman of Galilee or of the
traveling tinker of Elstow but for their
relationship to the Christ. And now after
all these changing centuries they come to us
in the holy calm of this peaceful Sabbath
with wise and helpful teachings. Read once
again this first chapter of the Book of Reve-


nation. Is there any repining? Does John
bemoan his exile? Does he plead for sym-
pathy and commiseration? He was not that
manner of man, nor, indeed, were any of
the first followers of the Christ. He was in
the spirit on the Lord's day, and, borne
above the sounds of earth and the scenes of
time, he heard and saw what he would
neither have heard nor seen but for the sim-
ple fact that he was "in the spirit." We
need not discuss the drift and purport of
this much-discussed apocalypse to learn a
wise lesson for ourselves this morning. There
are plain suggestions here that dullness itself
eould hardly miss. A man inharmony with
God and nature, with the beautiful and the
true, will see and hear what otherwise he
could not do. John's attitude accounts
largely for John's privileges. If he had
gone about the coasts of Patmos, writing
"Martyr" in large letters on the sands; if
he had spent the hours in bewailing his un-
happy lot, we should have had no visions of
the white-robed angels, and of the harpers
harping with their harps, anJ of the tri-
umphant throngs bearing their palms of
victory, and of the sea of glass mingled with
fire, but instead, a dreary monotone, a sad,
dispiriting dirge. But John was "in the
spirit," as Bunyan was "in the spirit," and
the Island Prison became the gate of heaven,
and Bedford Jail became "the housebeauti-
ful." In the heart of this happy summer-
time, breezes from this far-away Patmos
come like cooling balm to our tired, heated
souls. If we will but put ourselves in har-
mony with all that is around us, with fair,
blue skies, and singing birds, and waving
blossoms, then earth will not be a dreary
place and life will not be so very hard to
bear. Noises and discords will become
harmonious, music of the better land shall
steal along secret paths and cheer our tired
hearts. We will hear the voice of God in
every bell that tolls and in every sound that
breaks the silence, we shall see a bright and
beaming light in every cloud, and all will
be fair and beautiful, because our eyes are
purged, and our ears are attuned to sweet-
est sounds. All the common days will be
brighter if we are in the spirit on the Sab-
bath, and these Sabhaths will be prophecies
of that endless day of rest and peace.
That Sabbath deep and wide.
A light upon the shining sea,
The bridegroom and the bride.









































e,~h~'~si"N

tK


















-'4








THE.;r RANIEH FR~iMH BARYiAND








SOWING IN TEARS, REAPING IN SONGS.
msaor e as.
TrIIE harvest time is near,
The year delays not long,
And he who sowed with many a tear
Shall reap with many a song.
Forth to his toil he goes,
Ilis seed with weeping leaves;
But he shall come at early dawn;
And bind hie golden sheaves.

THE GENTLE SERVING MAID.
IN the fifth chapter of the second book of
Kings there is a very pleasant story tobl
of the good a little bond maiden did in the
court of the King of Syria. In this court
there was a mighty man of war, whose name
was Naaman. He was a great favorite with
the King, who set him at the head of his
armies. The Bible says that Naaman was a
great man with his master, the King; he was
highly honored as a man of valor, but alals
he was a leper. To what extent he suffered
from this terrible disease we are not told,
but we know that he must have been greatly
afflicted, for even the little serving maid who
waited upon Naaman's wife could not help
pitying her master. This little bond maiden
had been brought captive from the land of
Israel, and was given as a householdslave to
Naaman's wife, as one of the trophies of war.
One day, as her mistress sat among her cush-
ions by the window that looked out upon
the towering palms and lofty mountains of
Syria, the little maiden, sitting at her feet,
fan in hand, determined to open her heart
to her mistress on the subject of Naaman's
leprosy, and so she said:
"Would God my lord were with the prophet
that is in Samaria, for he would recover him
of his leprosy."
These words of the young daughter of Sa-
maria were told Naaman, who talked with the
King on the matter, and the King of Syria
sent Naaman to the King of Israel with costly
presents. But the King could render the
leper no help, and so Naaman went to the
house of Elisha. Elisha sent instructions to
the leprous warrior of Syria to go to the river
Jordan and wash seven times, with the pronm-
ise that he should be healed. Naaman did
not quite like this. He thought the prophet
need not have sent him to the river Jordan.
And he said: "Are not Abana and Phar-
par, rivers of Damascus, better than all the
rivers of Israel? May I not wash in them
and be clean?" But he afterward thought


better of it, and obeyed the instructions of
Elisha, and went and washed in the Jordan,
and was cleansed. What joy there would be
in his household when he returned! How
glad his wife would be, and we may be sure
the little bond maiden would be greatly re-
oiced. What a treasure she was in that
household! And all because, though carried
captive into a strange land, she did not for-
get the God of her fathers, or the mighty
works wrought by the prophet Elisha. She
was, indeed, a Missionary of the best sort, a
King's Daughter, worthy of all love and
honor.

THE TONGUE.
IramIP nonnouGs IEnoe.
" HB boneless tongue, so small and weak,
L Can crush and kill," declared the Greek.
" The tongue destroys a greater horde,"
The Turk asserts, than does the sword."
The Persian proverb wisely saith,
"A lengthy tongue-an early death,"
Or sometimes takes this form instead,
"Don't let your tongue cut off your head."
"The tongue can speak a word whose speed."
Bays the Chinese, "outstrips the steed."
While Arab sages thisaimpart,
"The tongue's great storehouse is the heart."
From Hebrew wit the maxim sprung,
"Tho' feet should slip, ne'er let the tongue."
The sacred writer crowns the whole,
"Who keeps his tongue doth keep his soul."

THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER.
S. E. NOUME.
W HEN was our Flag adopted?
Our first national Banner was
adopted by the Congress of 1777, to be of
thirteen alternating stripes, red and white, to
represent their union "a freed land" as a
new starry constellation. In 1795 the stars and
stripes numbered fifteen. In 1818 the flag
of the old thirteen States was re-adopted and
an order made that it should show the twenty
States then in the Union ; a new star to be
added on the4th of July of each year in which
a new State should come in to keep company
with its sisters. Since we welcomed Colorado,
the stars number thirty-eight; but the two
Dakotas and Washington and Montana are
now to be granted entrance. It may be a
good little work for some of your young
readers to write out a correctly spelled list
of the thirteen, the twenty, and the thirty-



















-2' r-~- \J N.,







$~i~i i~~~hBi~N1iQXXB111 )


















TRE 1EST'. --VI. MT .~







eight with the separate dates of their admis-
sion.
But what a banner it is! A thing of
beauty truly, and now a_.:airi of joy to all-
North and South, I:r.U and West. How
fair are its streamers, as they float daily over
the Capitol and each great executive build-
ing at Washington! How many of the op-
prcised has it shielded at home and abroad
in troubled times as in Paris in the days of
the Commune! How respected on the high
seas! And now let me say a word about the
song, The Star Spangled Banner," which
is, or ought to be, in all our school books,
and taught, I think, with Drake and IIal-
leck's Ode to the Flag, to every young Ameri-
can boy and girl. And it would not be amiss,
would it, if the foreign boys who are crowd-
ing to our shores should learn these songs, so
as to get a love for their adopted country
early, for their new land is a blessing to them.
How came the "Star Spangled Banner"
to be written ?
I have a rare little volume, printed thirty-
one years ago, which tells a somewhat-forgot-
ten but choice story. It is from the pen of the
late Chief Justice Taney, of our Supreme
Court, and in brief reads as follows: "After
the British troops in the War of 1812-15
had burned the Capitol at Washington, they
went up the Chesapeake Bay to attack Balti-
more. Then Mr. Francis Scott Key, one of
the first among the lawyers at Washington,
heard that a dear friend had been taken pris-
oner and was on board a British ship, and he
determined to try to get him free. Embark-
ing on a cartel or truce ship, he visited the
British Admiral's ship. and by having with
him letters of thanks from the British offi-
cers, who had been wounded in the battle
fought at Il .1. i.-.1 i ._- iear Washington,
he got his fr-. i.i -,iT. I:.r he was told that
h could not Ileave the British ship till after
an attack wa.s made on Fort cellenry near
IBdtitimore. Then came the excitement; a
sore trial to true Americans to see the fort
bombarded, tie Flag threatened to be hauled
down, and Blltinmore bombairded or occu-
pied. Mr. Key told Judge Tanev that he
stayed all night on the deck watching every
shell and breathlessly, almost, watching its
explosion; but at "the dawn's earlyli ght"
he saw so gladly that our ilag was still on the
Fort. He was a prisoner on the enemy's
ship, but his heart spoke to him to say:
"Does not such a country (and such de-


fenders) deserve a song? If it had been a
hanging matter I must write one."
On the back of an old letter in his pocket-
book he began it, finishing in the boat before
he landed at Baltimore, where it was imme-
diately printed on hand-bills and scattered
all over the city. And now it is our nation's
song, and the sweet tune to which it is set is
often heard from the bands of music on our
ships and at the schools of West Point and
Annapolis, where each day when the flag is
hoisted, its just salute is given ; and sweeter
still to find it saluted on the ocean where
one is sailing on a foreign steamer as we all
have to do if we visit Europe.
Has the writer of the song been remem-
bered?
In the city from which this is written,
when recently the church of whose Sabbath-
school he was long the superintendent was
being rebuilt, the school now in that.church
placed in it a beautiful memorial window to
his memory. In 1832 he had given his
school for its 4th of July a noble patriotic
song closing with the words:
"May every mountain height,
Each vale and forest green,
Shine in Thy word's pure light
And its rich fruits be seen.
"And when in power He comes,
0 may our native land,
From all its rending tombs
Send forth a glorious band
"A countless throng
Ever to sing,
To Heaven's high King
Salvation's song."

THE TIRED LITTLE GLEANER.
P0OOR little Winnie! She has been out
all day with her mother in the harvest
field. For in the country where they live
the old custom of going out "gleaning" is
continued. Not that there is much to glean,
for the wonderful reapers of to-day leave but
few ears of the golden corn for the merry
gleaners to gather. "Gleaning day" is now
more of a picnic, in which both young and
old unite. Winnie has gathered a beautiful
bunch of wild flowers which she holds in her
chubby little hand. But oh, she is so tired!
Well, home is not far away, and soon she
will be soft-pillowed in her little cot, wan-
dering away in the land of dreams.








__ _


_ __~__I







THE PLAGUE OF THE FARM.
W ALTER BROOK was the plague of
the farm, and yet everybody had a
kind thought and a kind word for Walter.
He was the soul of mischief, and many and
many a time have I seen him, after some
wild prank, look around him and sighas if
he was sorry that he couldn't find more mis-
chief just at hand. The dogs, the cats, the
horses, the mules, every living thing on the
farm came in for a share of Walter s atten-
tion. Even the geese were not free from his
frolics. Nothing pleased him much better
than to sit on a gate and take a young gosling
in his hands and tease it while the whole flock
of geese would hiss round him in most dis-
cordant chorus. Shoes and stockings he dis-
dained, though his mother insisted upon his
celebrating the Sabbath by appearing neatly
clad on that day. Walter was a kind-hearted
lad with all his mischief; and Aunt Annie
who was always Walter's friend, as indeed
she was of all her nephews and nieces-and
their name was legion-used to say, "Wal-
ter's all right. Let him alone! You can't
make a milksop of him, but you may make a
man of him." No doubt Aunt Annie was
right, but then boys should remember that
mischief has its limits, and for life to be real,
life must be earnest.


IN HEAVEN THERE IS REST.
BERNARD BARTON.
NOT in this weary world of ours
Can perfect rest he found;
Thorns mingle with the fairest flowers
Even on cultured ground;
Earth's pilgrim still his loins must gird
To seek a lot more blest;
And this might be his onward word-
In heaven alone is rest."


THE BLACKBERRY PIE.
A TRUE STORY.
J. n. hAMMOND.
OHNNY PERCIVAL was a boy about
) nine years old, who, like many other
boys, had not learned that one might have
too much of a good thing. One day he said
to his mother:
** wish I was Ia nan."
Why, Johnny?"


"So that I could have as much blackberry
pie as I want."
"Don't you have as much now as you
want? You always share with us."
"Yes, mother, I have one piece, some-
times two pieces, but I want a whole one, and
when I get to be a man I mean to have a
whole blackberry pie to myself."
"Well, Johnny, you need not wait to be
a man for that, you may have one now."
"What, mother! a whole one all to my-
self?"
"Yes, you go and pick the berries and I
will make the pie for you, and you may have.
it all to yourself."
"Oh! goody," exclaimed Johnny, and in
great glee ran off for a basket, and went for
the berries. He brought them home and his
mother made a nice, fat berry pie, in one of
those large, deep, oblong tins which our
mothers used to have. When baked it was
handed over to Johnny, who sat down in the
corner to eat it. He began with a hearty
relish, smacked'his lips and pronounced it a
real good pie, and soon had half of it de-
voured But such a pie is a great deal for
one little boy to eat at once; he attacked the
latter half with much less eagerness. His
mother saw his failing appetite and pleas-
antly said:
"Johnny, you need not eat it all if yo-
don't want it."
But Johnny had undertaken to eat a.
whole pie, and did not mean to give up, so
he answered:
"Yes, mother, I do want it all, but this
part of it is not quite as good as the other
alf."
"That can't be, my son, for it was all
made together. One part must be just as
good as another."
Johnny kept on eating, but slower, and
slower, and evidently with less and less
relish. He persevered, however, till he had
at length actually swallowed the last mouth-
ful. Then he pushed the empty tin away
and said aloud:
"I wouldn't give a cent for a blackberry
pie."
This true story is not a strange one at all.
Many a boy now thinks that if he only had a
man's liberty he would be happy; but if he
should have a man's liberty without a man's
judgment to guide him, he would only make
himself miserable. Be thankful, boys, that.
you cannot always now do just ae you
please.
















a-. 'i ~ --''7
'I 7 -e -


-i




*' I~


L--~- I-~.

i.7f.:J'


THE PLAGUE OF THE FARM.


-------
...,


r ~7'







THE TRIAL TRIP.
W ALTER and Eustace think, as indeed
Sdo many other little boys, and not
without good reason, that they have the best
and kindest father that ever lived. He seems
to know just exactly what they want. Only
yesterday he brought them home two lovely
full-rigged little boats. Walter's is called
"The iueen of the Lake," and Eustace's
"The Fairy Alice." And now they have
brought down their -trim built vessels to the
pond which lies at the foot of the garden-
which is, in their eyes, quite a lake-and
they are launching their tiny crafts for the
trial trip. They are about as happy as any
boys in all America this bright August mora-
ing, and all we wish is that the sails of their
boats may be filled with prosperous breezes,
and that the trial trip may be eminently sue-
oessful.

NOBODY'S DARLING.







YOUNG GILDEROY'S KITE.

JUST outside the village of Mapleson lies
a lovely piece of land, known as Maple-
son Meadows, and here in what was called
"'kite time," the boys of Mapleson used to
fly their kites. There were no more beauti-
ful kites to be seen in all that region of
country than in Mapleson Meadows. The
boys of the village formed themselves into
a club, with a constitution and by-laws, of
oonrse. A special day was set apart for a
grand kite-flying tournament, and the boy
whose kite flow-the highest and kept the
steadiest was to be Captain of the club for
that year, with the title of "Captain Gilde-
roy." The boys had been accustomed to
the phrase, "as high as Gilderoy's kite,"and
so they determined to call their Captain
"Oaptain Gilderoy," supposing that Gilde-
roy's kite must have been a high flyer.
Imagine their distress, however, when they
earned that this odd phrase had nothing
whatever to do with flying kites. It seems
that long. long ago it was the barbarous cus-


tom to take parts of the body of very bad.
criminals and hang them upon the chains of
the gibbet for crows and buzzards and vul-
tures to devour. This part of the body was
called the "kyte." Gilderoy was a very dar-
ing and successful highwayman and rob-
ber. He was a perfect terror, and the people
were so glad of his death that they hung
his "kyte" on the loftiest gibbet-pole they
could find, as a token of scorn and contempt.
When this story of the origin of the phrase,
"as high as Gilderoy's kyte," was explained
at the meeting of the Mapleson Kite Club,
convened for the election of the Captain for
the year, Ole Bennett said .
Well, boys, who cares? This is a free
country anyhow. We don't care how high
old Gilderoy-was hung. We know that Ted
Ebberson's kite is the finest kite that has
been seen in Mapleson Meadows this year,
and that it flew the highest and kept the
steadiest, and we know also that Ted is a
downright good fellow, and I don't think
he should be done out of his honors because
old Gilderoy was hung; and I therefore pro-
pose that we elect Ted Ebberson as our
"Captain Gilderoy" for the ensuing year."
Ole's speech was applauded, as only boys
know how to applaud. The resolution was
unanimously passed, with three times three,
and if our readers will look at the frontis-
piece, they will no doubt agree that Ted
Ebberson looks proud of his kite and proud
of his honors, as well lie may, in spite of old
Gilderoy, the wicked highwayman.

TO READ, TO SPELL AND TO SEW.
Only our frocks and our aprons
Would grow like the leaves on the trees,
And out we could rush in the morning,
To gather and pick as we please-
How nice it would be, and how easy,-
We never would have a misfit;
No matter how much we might tear them,
We never need sew up a slit.
No tiresome mending or darning,
No use for a needle or thread,
No grief for a hole in a stocking,
No scolding from mother to dread.
And if there were never a lesson.
No writing or spelling of words,
And nothing to do but he idle,
And chatter and sing, like the birds,
How useless, and tired, and lazy.
And mischievous, too we would grow;
No. no! 'Tis a thousand times better
To read and to spell and to sew.






































































THE TRIAL TRIP.







THE SILK WORM'S SONG.
FRANCIS SCOTT KEY.
O H, let me alone, I've a work to be done
That can brook not a moment's delay;
While yet I breathe I must spin and weave,
And may rest not, night or day.
Food and sleep I will never know
Till my blessed work be done.
Then my rest shall be sweet in the winding-sheet
That around me I have spun.
I have been a base and groveling thing,
And the dust of the earth my home;
But now I know that the end of my woe
And the day of my bliss has come.
in the shroud I make, this creeping frame
Shall peacefully die away;
But its death shall be new life to me
In the midst of its perishing clay.
I shall wake, I shall wake, a glorious form
Of brightness and beauty to wear;
I shall burst from the gloom of my opening tomb,
And breathe in the balmy air.
Ishall spread my new wings in the morning sun,
In the summer's breath I'll live;
I will bathe me where, in the dewy air ,
The flowers their sweetness give.
I will not touch the dusty earth,
I'll spring to the brightening sky,
And free as the breeze, where'er I please,
On joyous wings I'll fly.
And wherever I go, timid mortals may know
That like me from the tomb they shall rise;
And the dead shall be given, by signal from heaven,
A new life, a hew home in the skies.
Then let them like me make ready their shrouds,
Nor shrink from the mortal strife;
And like me they shall sing, as to heaven they
spring,
Death is not the end of life.

LEGEND OF THE TWO SACKS.
T HERE is an ancient legend that tell of
an old man who was in the habit of
traveling from place to place with one sack
hanging behind his back and another in
front of him.
In the one behind him he cast all the kind
deeds of his friends, where they were quite
hid from view; and he soon forgot all about
them.
In the one hanging around his neck, under
his chin, he put all the sins which the
people he new had committed; and these he
was in the habit of turning over and looking
at as he walked along, day by day. One day,


to hissurprise, he met a man, who, like
himself, was wearing a sack in frontand one
behind. He went up to him and began
feeling his sack.
What have you got here, my friend ?"
he asked, giving the sack in front a good
poke.
"Stop! don't do that 1" cried the other,
"you'll spoil all my good things."
What good things ?" asked number one,
"Why, my good deeds," answered number
two. "I always keep them in front of me,
where I can always see them, and take them
outandair them. See, here is a half-crown
I put in the plate on Sunday; and the shawl
I gave the beggar girl; and the mittens I
gave to the cripple boy; and the penny I
gave to the organ-grinder; and here is even
the benevolent smile I bestowed on the cross-
ing sweeper at my door; and-"
"And what's in the sack behind you ?
asked the first traveler, who thought his
companion's good deeds would never come to
an end.
"Tut, tut," said number two, "there is
nothing I care to look at in there! That
sack holds what I call my little mistakes."
"It seems to me that your sack of mis-
takes is fuller than the other," said number
ene.
Number two frowned. He had never
thought that, although he had put what he
called his "mistakes" out of sight, every
one else could see them still. An angry
reply was on his lips, when happily a third
traveler, also carrying two sacks, as they
were, overtook them.
The first two men at once pounced on the
stranger.
What cargo do you carry in your sacks?"
aried one.
Let's see your goods," said the other.
With all my heart," said the stranger;
for I have a goodly assortment, and I like
to show them. "This sack,"he said, point-
ing to the one hanging in front of him, is
full of the good deeds of others."
Yoursackis nearlytouching the ground.
It must be a pretty heavy weight to carry,"
observed number one.
There you are mistaken," replied the
stranger; the weight is only such as sails
are to a ship, or wings to an eagle. It helps
me onward."
"Well, the sack behind you can be of
Little use to you," said number two, "for it




























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"MY DEAR LITTLE PUPPIES."


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appears to be empty; and I see it has a great
hole in the bottom of it."
"I did it on purpose," said the stran-
ger, "for all the evil I hear of people I put
in there and it falls through and is lost. So
you see, I have no weight to drag me down
backwards."
Now, boys and girls,do you know of anyone
who resembles either of these three men with
their curious sacks ? Just put on your
"thinking-caps,"and try and discover whether
you have over met anyone among your friends
who will answer the description given of
either of these three travelers. Found plenty
of people who are exactly like either one or
the other ? Yes, I am sure you have.
Now tell me, which pair of sacks are you
carrying? Don't be in a hurry to answer
this question, since it is a most important
one, and I want you to think well before you
decide. I hope that you are all bearing upon
our shoulders the easy burden which "num-
er three" said was "as sails to a ship, or as
wings to an eagle," helping him onward in
his journey through life. If either of the
other sacks have been burdening you with
their weight, throw them away, as they will
grow more and more bulky and burdensome,
making your life's journey one of weariness
and gloom-shutting out from your vision
beautiesof which you now havenoknowledge,
and even hiding the brightness and warmth
of the glorious sunshine itself. Try the ex-
change of sacks, and prove the truth of the
lesson taught in this legend. If you profit by
the simple little story, it will certainly have
been a word fitlyy spoken," which word is
described by Soloman, as like "'Apples of
Gold in pictures of Silver."

PEOPLE WILL TALK.
Y OU may get through the world, but 'twill be
very slow,
If you listen to all that is said as you go;
you'lll he worried anl fretted and kept in a stew-
For meddlesome ton guesmustlhavesomething to do,
And people will talk.
If quiet and modest, youll have it presumed
That your humble position is only assumed-
You're a wolf in sheep's ci.. itr; or else you're a
fool;
But don't get excited-keep perfectly cool-
For people will talk.
And then if you show the least boldness of heart,
Or a slight inclination to take your own part,
They will call you an upstart, conceited and vain;
But keep straight ahead-don't stop to explain-
For people will talk.


If threadbare your dress or old-fashioned your he~
Some one will surely take notice of that,
And hint very strongly that you can'tpay your way-
But don't get excited whatever they say-
For people will talk.
If your dress is the fashion, don't think to escape,
For they criticise then in a different shape;
You're ahead of your means, or your tailor's un
paid;
But mind your own business, there's naught o be
made,
For people will talk.
Now, the best way to do is to do as you please
For your mind, if you have one, will then 6e at
ease;
Of course you will meet all sorts of abuse;
But don't think to stop them-It ain't any use-
For people will talk.

ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGOl
TTHERE were no steel pens then. Allthe
S writing was done with a qill. Thefirat
pens were made of hollow reeds, sharpened,
and adapted to a thick India ink. Then
eame the quill pen and paper. The discovery
of paper or papyrus, created a great demand
for quills, and in Russia, Poland, Germany
and Holland great flocks of geese were raised,
chiefly to supply this demand. The quills
were very carefully prepared. The outside
skin was removed by a hot sand bath and then
the quills were scraped. After this they were
hardened by being dipped in a solution of
alum or in nitric acid, and were then bundled
for market. Forty years ago most of the
pens used in New England were made from
quills. The first steel pens were introduced
in England in 1803, but their want of flexi-
bility made their adoption very slow. In
1810 the first patent for the manufacture of
metallic pens in this country was granted to
Peregrine Williams, of Baltimore, but the
business did not prosper, as nothing could
compete with the flexible quill. In 1822
Joseph Gillot, of Birmingham, England,
began the manufacture of steel pens by the
use of improved machinery, and the product
of his shop speedily became popular. Assoon
as his enterprise was established others began
the manufacture of metallic pens, and the
aape, finish, elasticity and temper of steel
pens were greatly improved. But for ease
Writing there is nothing to-day that can
compete with a smooth, well-made quill
poM.
In idle wishes fools supinely stay;
Be there a will, and wisdom finds a way.












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MY DAINTY LITTLE CHILD.
SY little dainty child,
SWith face as unbeguiled
A if the angels smiled
Upon yourplay;
\'iat do 3'our earnest eye",
t!i:t, look so wide and wie,
i'tc! of your gathered prise?
What do they saIy?
Sit that from tih Lower
Y !.i ,'llld ihe ha\tliorn flower,
A:\i s'riii'-' ilnc' 1!o <'T dn rwver
X ( i'j Ill, i Jl l ?
Or, are you only (lr.ri'n-1l
Alm, t the river's etrcamling,
XAm.ngst the rush( 1 i .I
And its sweet I .
SimSile in your childish pIlay
t t.i wouil thal t all to-day
WM ',e iniloceint iltd g ily
As yon, rmy chilps
Thal. (aclli.h 7on l miniit 1'pceur ,
The ,pcace it i selhall endur
F(.r -hildlilc natlrlis, pure
Amnd unt;tilehd.
HERE'S TO1 o, I my own SBO
a :] wihld winter's d slct,
Nlo > r or l iitempest'is lbeat
t ina yo(r spring sun(
Aurro i wihen, c our slllniter I ist,
teand s ui tiln, u shades are the e
''- mur life- at lat!,
a' e'vace.-e wo l

HERE'S TO MOTHER, BOVSI
h e in, ti

Hdil' oi i, our eot lier! Lant every hon-
'st Iluinl :ild bloy illn the hland( respond
to tih tost,. \Wecll hIIas il, bIe sail: "* Honor
the dear olhl motlhr." Tiime hias slcttered
the glloWy locks on her b)row. plowed deep
furrows on her cheeks, but is she not sweet
and beautiful still? The lips nuty be thin
and shrunken, bIut those are the same lips
that pressed yours after you had said ethe
little pra yer she taught you when you were
put with loving caure in your little "trundle
ed" ai. night. The same lips that have
kissed mani va !hot iearfromi childish clieeks,
and thy are the sweetest, i[ in tOle world.
,The (u.e i dinl, Yel. it. glow, with the soft
radiance of holy love which can never fade.
Ah, 'e\, si(, is a dear old mother! Thea
sands (of life :Ire nearly run out, but, feeblo
as sihe i., she will go further and reach down
lower for you ,hi ant y otherr lbing on earth.
lou can not walk into a midnight whero
1he vaI not soe .,11. you can not enter a
prison whose bars will keep her from you;


you can never mount a scaffold too high for
her reach that she may kiss and bless you
in evidence of her deathless love. The
mother is the last one to forsake you. So
love her tenderly, and cheeerher declining
years with holy ideotion.

FATHER AT PLAY.
1 U!CII un as we had one rainy day
S Wh li father 'was home an d helped m. to play
Annd mrae a ship, and hoisted a sail,
And crossed the sean in a fearful gale.
IBut we hadn't failed into Boston Town,
When captain and crew and vessel went down.
Down, down in a jolly wreck,
With the captain riolliing under the deck.
But he broke out again with n lion's roar,
And we' on two legs, hQ on four,
Ran out of thle parlor, and up the stair,
And frighhte'rd mianiim and baby there.
Bo manmminiaaid she'd t. policeman now,
And tricd to 'rest us. She didn't know how
Then the lion laughed and forgot to roar.
Till w chased him out of the nursery door;
And then he turned to a pony gay,
And carried us all on his back away.
VW::,.;'.' lickity, kickity, ho!
If wie hadn't fun, then I don't know!
'ill we tumbled off and he cantered on,
Never stopping to ,se if his load 'iwas gona;
And I rcldin't tell any more thlin he
Which was Clharley and which was irm',
Or which was Towser, for all in a mix,
You'd think three people had' turned to six.
Till Towser's tail had caught in a door;
lie wouldn't hurrah with us any more.
And mamma came the romping to quiet,
And told us a story to break up the riot.

MY KITTIE.
O I, here is Miss Kittie,
SShlie's '.!, -k tI :her milk;
Her coat is I P IL
And as glossy as silk
She sips it all up
Wit i her little lap-lap;
Then, i ;i.;:, her whiskers,
Lies down for a nap.
My Kittie Is gentle,
She loves meI right well:
And how funny her play Is
I'm sure I can t tell.







THE "GOODEST" MOTHER
MlARGAIKUi E. SANOSTER.
E VENING wi' I'.I .. cold and dark,
And people hurried along the way,
As if they were longing soon to mark
Their own home candle's cheering ray.
Before men toiled in the whirling wind
A woman wiih bundles great and small,
And after her tugged a step behind.
The bundle she loved the best of all.
A dear little r..: i boy,
With rosy cheeks and a jacket blue,
Laughing antd chatterinu, full of joy:
And here's what he said-I tell you true:
You are the goodest mother that ever was,"
A voice as-l:ear as the forest bird's;
And I'm sur te the glad young heart had cause
To utter the sweet of the lovely words.
Perhaps the woman had worked all day
\\\ .i ,.- or scrubbing: perhaps she sewed;
I know by her weary footfall's way
That life for her was an uphill road.
But here was a comfort, children dear!
Think what a comfort you night-give
To the very best friend yuii can have here,
The mother, dear, in whose house you live.
If once in a while you'd stop and say,
In task or play. for moment's pause,
And tell her in sweet and winning way,
"You're the goodest mother that ever was."

THE CHINESE BOY'S PAT-TSZ. -
TO sooner is a Chinese boy born into the
World than his father proceeds to write
-down eight characters or words, each set of
two representing respectively the exact hour,
day, month and year of his birth. These are
handed by his father to a fortune-teller,
whose business it is to draw up from them a
certain book of fate, generally spoken of as
the boy's Pat-tsz, or eight characters."
Herein the fortune-teller loescribes the good
and evil which the boy is likely to meet with
in d!''.. life, and the means to be adopted in
order to secure the one and avert the other.
In order to understand something of the
value of this document, we mu.llt glance at
the I',. -. met hod rf reckoning time.
There are only twelve C(ihinese Ihotir to our
twenty-four. Beginning with II P. M. to
1 A. M., which is lheir first hour. Their
names are rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon,
snake, horse, sheep, monkey, cock, dog and
pig. As everybody is supposed to partake
more or less of the nature of the animal at
r,.,o hour he is born, it appears obvious


that it would never do to- send a rabbit boy
to the school of a tiger schoolmaster. Hence
the necessity of consulting the Pat-tsz of
both parties before entering upon any kind
of agreement. It is a fact that it is thus
rrf,. 1 to on every important occasion.

THE TIRED FOOT.
T HE potter stood at his daily work,
One patient foot on the ground,
The other, with never slacking speed,
Turning his swift wheel round.
Silent we stood beside him there,
Watching tihe restless knee,
Till my friend-said low, in pitying voice.
How tired his foot must be !"
The potter never paused in his work,
Shaping the wondrous thing;
'Twas only a common flower pot,
But perfect in fashioning.
Slowly he raised his patient eyes,
With homely truth inspired :
No, ma'am ; it isn't the foot that kicks,
The one that stands gets tired !"

GRANDMA'S SPECS.
L UCILLE is one of G(randma's pets
But Lucille is full of mischief. You
must know that Grandma is quite an elderly
lady. Indeed she is more than seventy years
of age; and amongst other things, Grandma
has a habit of taking a little -I,1ll You
maybe surprised at this, but if you were to
travel through Scotland you would find that
very many elderly ladies, as well as gentle-
men, are in the habit of taking snuff.
Lucille's grandma is often much in trouble
about her snutff box and her red silk hand-
kerchief and her spectacles; for she is always
losing one or other of these three articles.
And, sometimes, with her spectacles turned
right up over her forehead, she will hunt and
hunt anid hunt for them, and very often she
is heard c.lli;n-. Lucille, have you seen my
specs?" Sometimes Lucille will sit in the
large arm-chair with Grandma's specs on her
nose or in her hand, watching for quite a
while her grandma's vain search, and then,
when she thinks she has watched long
enough she will say: ." Grandma, I think
these must be yours, for they won't fit me. "
Lucille is full of mischief, but she's a great
pet, and well she may be. for she's one of the
dearest girls in the world. If you knew
her only a little, you would be sure to love
her very much.











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WHEN THE OWL IS THINKING.

BRIGHT gleams from yonder mated hall
The ruddy glow that strikes the rafter.
Like dreamland's twilight echoes, fall
The strains of music and of laughter;
Soft moonbeams o'er my drowsy pate
(Sloped sideways) steal, and set me bi',nku,-i
Yet dazzle not the thoughts sedate
That muster when an owl is thir-kinig.
Like jay-birds man's fantastic brood-
So owls decide--ll mirth and chatter;
But Wisdom's court is solitude,
Her "happiness no laughing matter";
No cares this tranquil soul assail,
Past, present, future, calmly linking;
The universe in mental scale
Is balanced when the owl is thinking!

,BE KIND.

BE kind to thy father-for when thou wort young,
Who loved thee so fondly as he?
lie c-,iugt the first accents that fQll from thy t,-u.
And joined in thy innocent lee.
Be kind to thy father-for now he is old,
His-locks int-rlhi'li;, !! with gra ;
I is footsteps are feeble, once fearless and bold-
Thy [:l- is **.-.: away.
i- kind to thy o..:.. :r-for Io on her brow
May traces of sorrow be seen
O, well nay't thou cherish and comfort her now,
,'or 1 and kind she has been,
' *memben r thy rnother-r--or ee i sie pray,
A. ; a C. d iveth her 'eat.h;
With acc-ill kindin cs en cheer hli lone way,
L'n o e dark v; -: i dath.
Bie kind to ty brother----is heart will have dearth,
If te -:: c; joy be withdrawn;













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The flowers of feeling will fade at the birth,
if the dew of-affection be gone.
Be kind to thy brother-wherever you are,
The love of a brother shall be
An ornament purer and richer by far
Than pearls from the depths of the sea.
Be kind to thy sister-not many may know
The depth of true sisterly love;
The wealth of the ocean lies fathoms below
The surface that sparkles above.
Thy kindness shall bring thee many sweet hours,
And blessings thy pathway to crown,
Affection shall weave thee a garland of flowers,
More precious than wealth or renown.


"THERE IS A GREEN HILL FAR AWAY".

T HERE is a green hill far away;
Without a city wall,
Where the dear Lord- was crucified
Who died to save us all.
Wie inma not know, we cannot tell,
Wh at pains he. had to bear,
But we bd:ieve it was for us
Ie ii .::h ng and suffered there.
He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good,
That we might go at last to heaven,
Saved by his precious biooJd.
There wvas no other good nough
To pa'y thle price O( si;I,
Hle oniv could unlock the ga.te
Of heaven, and let us in.
0, dearly, dearly has 'he: lo1,
And we must love him too,
And trust in his redeemingi. blood,
And try his works to do









HAPPY APRIL DAYS.
W. STDIIO ,
S WfiET is the lrn %if, of the balmy air, Lt me recline in the pleasant shade
When the April days are bright, Of the spreading forest trees,
And hills and vales and woods look fair Or fly my kite in the happy light,
As they lie in the golden light. And be fanned by the cooling breeze.


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THE BUTTERFLY'S FUNERAL.

DID you ever start out of your sleep,
When the light of the sunshine had fled
To hear how the butterflies weep
For a butterfly recently dead ?
Did you see them approach in a crowd,
And a soft lamentation begin.
With a neat little coffin and shroud,
To put the dead butterfly in?
Did their delicate fluttering wings,
You had thought only made to rejoice,
Keeping saying unsayable things,
That went to your heart like a voice:
Did the poor little corpse, all alone,
So pitiful look where it lies,
It would melt a heart fashioned of stone,
Or draw tears from a crocodile's eves?
Did they weave from the cypress a pall ?
While lilies the winding-sheet gave ?
Did they play the Dead March out of Saul
As they took the poor thing to its grave?
Did they form a procession in air,
By an aged white butterfly led ?
While the moths that the coffin must bear
Are the moths p<, ,le call the )Dath's hcad ?
Did you then turn your eyes to the ground,
Where under the butterfly throng,
The ants are all lea1vi' their mound,
And most fussily sculpting along ?
l,,- you notice black bee(tles in pairs,
With the r 1. -*ad mourning they bring,
dancing with woe-,cgone ;iirs,
So completely at hroie in the tling ?
-Did on s,"e on other: l;awn how tlhy me:t ?
Where each grave by a dnaisy you trace;
-I vou learn with a tender regret,
'T is the b ,.-'- i:. .' bur: '. place ?



























































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Did you watch the ants d; in, the grave
While the beetles stand round in black rings,
And the butterflies mournful though brave,
Are drooping disconsolate wings ?
Did they lower the coffin, alas
Till the poor little thing disappears-
Did they cover it over with grass;
Did they water the grass with their tears ?
Did the sight send a pang through your heart
Did it almost too sorrowful seem-
And then-did you wake with a start
And discover 't was only a dream ?


GOOD TIMES AT HOME.

JOSEPHINE POLLARID.

O THE good times at home! how sweet to remember
The pleasures and joys that surrounded us there,
From December to June, and from June to December,
When. we were unburdened with sorrow or care.
From garret to cellar, from cellar to garret,
With happy abandon we frolicked and played,
Invoking the spirits of music and laughter,
And nobody frowned at the racket we made.
0, the games and the gambols out-doors., o inor:, ig
With home very handy to run to, in case
Some lawless marauders, against us uniting,
Should press us too closely, compelling a race.
All througLh the dear dwelling and every place near it,
So fearlessly, freely, permitted to roani,
What wonder that we should decide in our childhood
There was n light to compare with the good times au home
Then the games in the evening in which we would rkt !
The telling of stories, adventures, and all
That had I r "tened the day! And then, later, the quiet,
Thei peaceful ho'.iM hours--how sweet to recall














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MRS. CLARA SKrrl COUTOh.



Baby is going to Iylo-land /' '
Guided by mamma's own loving hand;
ie needs no money his fare to pay. ,
For ll.iesi go free to 2Nold-away. Ip
Cuidle (lown, darling, cuddIc down,
'We're going to t]l lo-Iton. "
.. ,,. -',.- ,,.._

Mamrma Is holding hiinm ing Iand warm',
Rest in his tltll heall on her arn;
Dimpled white hands still gnrLsping his toy, '"
Now fold them to rest, my lxiby boy. .
Rock-a-byce roxk-a-by.ye, gently and slow .
While mamma sings to him soft anl low: i '"""'
Dainty white eyelids blogin to droop down '
Over the laughing eyes, bonny and brown.
Cuddle (town, darling, cuddle down, '
We're going to lIylo,-town. /
i".
,.,. / '1 i
Lower they droop andil t last they oloi '
Justt le lik e stoft plJals of It rsos; I ,
Tlushied now aind quiet, the face so fa ir. '
No trace of sorrow or sin is them. | 'i
Now he shall go to his little bed, i
Over him gently the soft covers spread;
Cosy and warm in his downy nest, [, t
Sweet be his dreams and quiet his rest. ,,
Cuddle down. darling, cuddle dcwn, ,
We're going to Bylo-towri.


Father in TIeaven so loving iuld mild, /
T pray 'Thce look down on my little child;
Illness him, and keep hini from evil fro
Till at last Thlou shalt saly,
"Come home to Me." I ', ,






Fhr-re were books, there were pictures in endless profusion,
The sick or the studious ones to beguile!
And the dark winter days were made cheerful and pleasant
By the mother's dear presence, her voice and her smile,
0, blest were the ties of affection that bound is
O, joyously sweet were tihe s on'-s that we sun:,
When i, r:- companions we-re gathered around us,
And familiar the scenes that we frolickle aong !{
Though many a banquet is spread for our pleasure,
Though oft from the firside tempted to roam,
The heart will still cherish its fond recollections
Of the days that are past--and the good times at home.

COME FORT CHILDREN.
fDjWA RK YOUL,
CO .'' forth on Sundays;
Come forth on Mondays;
Come forth on any day
Children, come forth to play-
Worship the God of Nature in your childhood;
Worship Him at your tasks with best endeavor;
Worship Him in your sports; worship H1im ever;
Worship Him in the wildwood;
Worship Ilim amidst the flowers,
In the greenwood bowers;
Pluck the buttercups, and raise
Your voices in His praise!

THE "iAN IN THE MOON.

T IE iman in the moon who sails through the sky,
Is a most courageous skipper;
':it he mai.d a mistake when he tried to take
A drink of milk from the dipper. "
: dipped it into the milky way,"
And slowly, cautiously filled it;
ltur the Great Bear" growled and the Little Bear howled,
And scared him so that he spilled it.







































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THE NEW YEAR'S DREAM.
FANSIE ISABEL SIIERRICK.
I KNOW not why this wintry night
I dream of summer hours-
Of roses hid beneath the snow,
Of sudcdn, swift-blown showers ;
Of rains that softly sweep away
The frowns from anCre skies ;
.If tender n,,ons when, hushed in sleep,
The dreamy landscape lies.
I know the flowers are dead and gone;
They lie beneath the now ;
And where the sunshine used to pass
The shadows come and go..
The purple hills are while and cold,
The mountains, too, so lonely;
Yet. still, 1 do not think of these,
But of the summer only.
In dreams I feel the roses' breath
Upon my face-so sweet-
And scarce dare tread lest I should crush
The violets at my feet.
I feel the hush of rose-red dawns
And sunsets lost in splendor;
The summer world so tilled with joy
And song notes soft and tender.
And then I wake to find the gloom
Of dark and dreary days,
I see the shadow on the snow-
The somber wintry haze,
And wonder whly the new year comes
With storm and driving sleet.
The pure young year-its birth should be
Among the May-days sweet.
And yet, dear hearts, I know full well,
The flower-buds are but sleeping;
The summer gave, with loving trust,
Then all to winter's keeping;
And they will wake to sweeter life
Some day, when birds are calling;
So may our heart-blooms, hid away,
Be not beyond recalling.

ORIGIN OF THE SNOWDROP.

STIE arrival of snowdrops in the city gar-
dens as the first blossoms of the welcome
spring recalls a medieval legend in regard to
the origin of the !t:-',.i. It states that
"oone day after the fall. Eve stood in Para-
dise lamenting the barrenness of the earth,
which no longer produced vegetation and
where in) ..1 I grew. An angel, pitying
her sad condition, exposed as she was to the
bliinling snow which was falling at the time,
-came down to the earth to try to console
her.
Ie listened to her complaints, and i., i;r,
moved with pity for so much grief took in
his hand a flake of the snow, and, breathing
apon it, bade it take the form of a flower


and bud and blow. IIe at the same time
added that the little blossom should be a sign
and a symbol to her that the winter was
over, and that the sun and the summer
would soon return. On raising her eyes to
express her gratitude to the angel he was
nowhere to be seen, but on the place where
he had stood was a snow-white ring, which
she had no difficulty in recognizing as com-
posed of snow-drops."

T.HE WESTERN AND EASTERN DOORS.
AMELIA I. I!A11I.
WT IIISPEI' ',ireir!! at midnight.
S To the Old Year whisper low;
Then open the Western door,
Open, and let him go.

The work of the hands not good;
The will of the wavering miind;
The thoughts of the heart not pure;
The words of the lips not kind;

Faith that is broken or lost;
IHopes that are fading and dim;
Love that is selfish and vain-
These let him carry with him.

Whisper farewell to your doubts,
To follies and faults that you know;
Then open the Western door,
With thie Old Year let them go.

Turn to the sunrising next.
When shadows are growing thin
Set open the Eastern door,
And welcome the New Year in,

Welcome the order brave-
More faithfully do your part"-
Welcome the brighter Hope,
Welcome the kinder Heart.

Welcome the daily work,
Welcome the I household care;
Clasp hands -witl the Household Love,
Lift hands in the Household prayer.

FI _.. i.n-r, be all mistakes,
And over again begin,
When you open the Eastern door
To welcome the New Year in.

OUR LITTLE, QUEEN.
C iOULD you have seen the violets
J That blossomed in her eye's;
Could you have kissed that gollen hair,
And drank those childlike sighs;
You would have been her tiring-maid
As joyfully as I,-
Content to dress your little Qu,:- I,,
And let the world go by.


































N brown holland apron she stood in the kitchen;
Her sleeves were rolled up, and her cheeks all
aglow;
Her hair was coiled neatly; when I indiscreetly,
Stood watching while Nancy was kneading the
dough.
Now, who could be neater, or brighter, or sweeter,
Or who hum a song so delightfully low,
Or who look so slender, so gracefully tender,
As Nancy, sweet Nancy, while kneading the dough?
How deftly she pressed it, and squeezed it, caressed it,
And twisted and turned it, now quick and now slow.
Ah me, but that madness I've paid for in sadness!
'Twas my heart she was kneading as well as the
dough.
At last, when she turned for her pan to the dresser,
She saw me and blushed, and said shyly, Please go,
Or my bread I'll be spoiling, in spite of my toiling,
If you stand here and watch while I am kneading
the dough."
I begged for permission to stay. She'd not listen;
The sweet little tyrant said, "No, sirl no! nol"
Yet when I had vanished on being thus banished,
My heart stayed with Nancy while kneading the
dough.
I'm dreaming, sweet Nancy, and see you in fancy,
Your heart, love, has softened and pitied my woe,
And we, dear, are rich in a dainty wee kitchen
Where Nancy, my Nancy stands kneading the
dough. John A. Fraser.


4X







REMEMBER.

REMEMBER, though box in the plural makes boxes,
The plural of ox should be oxen, not oxes;
And remember, though fleece in the plural is fleeces,
That the plural of goose isn't gooses nor geeses;
And remember, though house in the plural is houses,
The plural of mouse should be mice, not mouses.
Mouse, it is true, in the plural is mice,
But the plural of house should -be houses, not hice;
And foot it is true, in the plural is feet,_
But the plural of root should be roots, and not reet,

A LITTLE PHILOSOPHER.
MARGARET GANGSTER.
THE days are short and the nights are long,
And the wind is nipping cold;
The tasks are hard and the sums are wrong,
And the teachers often scold.
But Johnny McCree,
Oh, what cares he,
As he whistles along the way?
It will all come right
By to-morrow night"
Says Johnny McCree to-day.
The plums are few and the cake is plain,
The shoes are out at the toe;
For money you look in the purse in vain--
It was all spent long ago.
But Johnny McCree,
Oh, what cares he,
As he whistles along the street ?
Would you have the blues
For a pair of shoes
While you have a pair of feet ?
The snow is deep, there are paths to break,
But the little arm is strong,
And work is play if you'll only take
Your work with a bit of a song.





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And Johnny McCree,
Oh, what cares he,
As he whistles along the road?
He will do his best,
And will leave the rest
To the care of his Father, God.

The mother's face it is often sad,
She scarce knows what to do;
But at Johnny's kiss she is bright and glad--4
She loves him, and wouldn't you?
For Johnny McCree,
Oh, what cares he,
As he whistles along the ways?
The trouble will go,
And "I told you so,"
Our brave little John will say,


NO KISS.

MADGE ELLIOT.

~KISS me, Will, sang Marguerite
To a pretty little tune,
Holding up her dainty mouth,
Sweet as roses born in June,
Will was ten years old that day,
And he pulled her golden curls,
Teasingly, and answer made,
I'm too old-I don't kiss girls.
Ten years pass, and Marguerite
Smiles as Will kneels at her feet,
Gazing fondly in her eyes,
Praying, "Won't you kiss me sweet?"
She is seventeen to-day;
With her birthday ring she toys
For a moment, then replies;
"I'm too old-I don't kiss boys!"















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HIS WISH.
MARIE L. RITTER.


My seven-year-old by the window stood,
When the rain was falling the other day, -
A perfect picture of boyish mirth,
A dainty breath of life's early May;
His eyes as blue as the azure skies,
His mouth like an angel's when he smiled;
And I said, What beautiful thoughts arise
In the sinless mind of a little child? "


Does he hear the sound of spirit wings?
Does he see a vision of heaven's own joy ?
Is, he listening while the angels sing?
What are you thinking about, my boy ?"
I felt presumptuous to break the spell,
He seemed so perfect-my tiny bud-
But he said: Mamma, I'd just as lief tell:
I wish I was digging out in the mud."







"I WILL SING OF BETHLEHEM."
HORATIUS BONAR.

THEY sing to me of princely Tyre,
That old Phoenician gem,
Great Sidon's daughter of the North,
But I will sing of Bethlehem !
They speak of Rome and Babylon,
What can compare to them?
So let them praise their pride and pomp,
But I will speak of Bethlehem !
They praise the hundred-gated Thebes,
Old Mizraim's diadem,
The city of the sand-girt Nile,
But I will sing of Bethlehem !
They speak of Athens, star of Greece,-
Her hill of Mars, her academe,
Haunts of old wisdom and fair art,
But I will speak of Bethlehem.
Dear city where heaven met with earth,
Whence sprang the Rod of Jesse's stem,
Where Jacob's star first shone;- of thee
I'll sing, O happy Bethlehem !

HUMILITY.

THY home is with the humble, Lord!
The simplest are the best;
Thy lodging is in child-like hearts;
Thou makest there Thy rest.
Dear Comforter! eternal Love!
If Thou wilt stay with me,
Of lowly thoughts and simple ways,
I'll build a house for Thee.
Who made this beating heart of mine
But Thou, my heavenly guest?
Let no one have it, then, but Thee,
And let it be Thy rest!












SUGGESTIONS FOR



S CHRISTMAS. GAMES







CHRISTMAS GAMES.
CHRISTMAS CROSS.

A PLEASING and easily arranged substitute for a tree is across. This is
arranged by making a rough cross out of pine planks or boards securely
fastened to a flat base. Cover the cross heavily with evergreen, and place
the monogram I. H. S. in large gilt or white letters at the center. Hang
gifts on the front of the cross by use of screw-hooks, and suspend them
from the back from common nails. A row of candles across the arms and
top of the cross is effective; and, if incandescent light is to be obtained, a
most brilliant effect is produced by putting a complete border of bright
lights around the cross; and even this effect is intensified by having the
lights in different-colored globes. The cross is especially appropriate for
Christmas exercises, and the programme should be arranged with reference
to that fact.
FRENCH BLIND MAN'S BUFF.

Children form in a circle. One is in the center, blindfolded and
furnished with a stick. The children dance around in a circle, to music if
possible, until the blindfolded person knocks the stick on the floor. Then
they stop instantly. The blindfolded person lifts the stick to some one in







the circle, and asks a question. The one addressed answers in a disguised
voice. As soon as the blindfolded guesses any one by means ,f the voice,
he changes places with that person.

GAME OF ADJECTIVES.

One player writes a letter, which of course he does not snow, leaving
blanks for adjectives. He then asks each player for an adjective, filling up
the spaces in order as he receives them. The letter is likely to cause a
laugh when completed.
CHRISTMAS CHARIOTS.

By a little ingenuity and the use of some laths, some heavy wire, and a
child's four-wheeled hand-cart-as large a one as possible-a very beautiful
fairy chariot can be made, by the introduction of which a most pleasing
entertainment is easily arranged. With the material above named, it is easy
to build a chariot. It should be made as fanciful and graceful as possible.
The canopy can be made by the use of a parasol, and the seat should be at
the back, and elevated. The chariot should be drawn in by four little fairies
dressed in pale pink, blue, green and yellow. The fairy queen, who occu-
pies the seat in the chariot under the canopy, should be dressed in pure
white, and carry a wand and a bouquet. The gifts may be placed in the
chariot, but nothing should be visible that could possibly injure the fairy
effect.
CHRISTMAS UMBRELLA.
A very unique and easily arranged entertainment is that of an umbrella
in place of a tree. Take a large sized umbrella-a fancy colored one, such
as is used for advertising, or a large express-wagon umbrella-is especially
good for this purpose; bore a hole through the top just below the ferrule;
pass a heavy cord through the hole, and suspend from the ceiling, the um-
brella being spread, of course. Decorate profusely with tissue paper, paper
chains, pop-corn, or any of the ornamentations commonly used on trees. By the
use of pin-hooks the gifts can be hung on the cloth, and also on the ribs of
the umbrella. By a liberal display of tasty decorations this can be made
very effective and beautiful, and the work of preparing and clearing away is so
much less than that attending a tree that the umbrella is especially desirable
for parlor use.
CHRISTMAS CORNUCOPIA.

A large cornucopia can be easily made out of pasteboard, and covered
with gilt and colored paper. This should be hung from the ceiling by two





























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strong cords, the large end of the cornucopia hanging lower than the small
end. A cover should be securely fastened over the mouth, or large end, of
the cornucopia, so that, when the fastening on top is untied or cut, the cover
will fall back, allowing the contents to roll out. Each gift should be carefully
wrapped, so as to prevent breakage. It is best that the mouth of the cornu-
copia should hang so as to empty the gifts out upon a large table.
DICKENS PARTY.

This is a gathering in masks and costumes. A book of Dickens is to be
selected to furnish characters for the party. Each person is expected to
appear on the appointed evening in the character assigned him, masked, cos-
tumed, and all the conversation is to be in exact accordance with the charac-
ters assumed. The players are to guess each other's assumed names and
characters.
Suppose, for example, the book selected is Bleak House." "Joe" will
appear as a forlorn street-boy with broom, and will sustain that character in
the evening's conversation.
My Lady-Dedlock" will be superb and dignified. Mrs. Jellyby" will
talk to all of her African Mission, and solicit aid for Borrioboola Gha. Mr.
Turveydrop" will be very stiff and formal, and have much to say about "de-
portment." So with a dozen or more characters.
A Shakespeare party is arranged in the same way, a play being selected
for the characters, and each character is to appear in appropriate costume,
and masked, and is to assume the ancient form of conversation. This might
be followed by a Longfellow, Whittier, Cooper, or Lowell party.
TABLEAUX.

A very delightful evening entertainment can be got up by having
some interesting story read or poem recited, and illustrating its most pictu-
resque portions by a tableau, the reader pausing while the curtain draws
back revealing the grouped figure, then continuing the story until there is
another opportunity for an illustration. Of course, the management of the
tableaux requires taste and skill, but with a little practice it can be rendered
very effective. The arrangement for stage and curtain is simply done by
laying on the floor blocks of wood the required height, placing over them
planks in such a way as they will not tip, and then covering the whole with
carpet or rugs. In front of this platform extend a heavy wire fastened to
small hooks screwed in the wall; the curtain, made of any dark material, is
attached to the wire by rings.






DUTCH CONCERT.


The players sit or stand round the room in a circle. The leader assigns
to each some musical instrument, as harp, flute, violoncello, trombone, etc.,
and also selects one for himself. Some well-known tune is then given out,
and the players all begin to play accordingly, each doing his best to imitate,
both in sound and action, the instrument which has been assigned to him,
the effect being generally extremely harmonious. The leader commences
with his own instrument, but without any warning suddenly ceases, and
begins instead to perform on the instrument assigned to one or other of
the players. Such player is bound to notice the change, and forthwith to
take to the instrument just abandoned by the leader, incurring a forfeit if
he fails to do so.
CROSS QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS.
The company sit around, and each one whispers a question to his neigh-
ber on the right, and then each one whispers an answer, so that each
answers the question propounded by some other player, and of the purport
of which he is of course ignorant. Then every player has to recite the ques-
tion he received from one player and the answers he got from the other, and
the ridiculous incongruity of these random cross questions and crooked
answers will frequently excite a good deal of sport. One, for instance, may
say, I was asked 'if I considered dancing agreeable ?' and the answer was,
'Yesterday fortnight.'" Another may declare, ''I was asked 'If I had seen
the comet?' and the answer was, He was married last year !'" A third, I
was asked 'What I liked the best for dinner?' and the answer was, 'The
Emperor of China ?'"
WHAT IS ON IT.
Undertake to tell, after something has been written on a piece of paper,
what is on it. Take the writing, roll it up, and, after a few passes of the
hand, say, Now drop the paper on the ground in the middle of the room,
and, to deprive me of all the chance of taking it up, place it under both your
feet." I then proceed to take up any object named and inform you at once
what is on the paper. After a few mysterious moments to keep the specta-
tors on the alert, you turn to the person standing on the paper and say, I
engaged to inform you what is on the paper. You are on it!"
THE MINISTER'S CAT.
Draw your chairs in a sort of circle and let each person name an adjec-
tive beginning with the letter A, in this way: The minister's cat is ambi-

































































FORGOTTEN BY SANTA CLAUS !







tious," says one. Amphibious, asthetic, ancient, active, athletic, antartic,
say others, until everything beginning with that letter is thought of. Then
the letter B is used. "The minister's cat is bumptious." Others say bellig.
erent, bankrupt, benignant, beseeching, beautiful, etc. When you come to
C, the cat is cautious, courteous, contesting, confiding, cataleptic, contradict-
ing, cruel, etc.
THE ORDER OF THE WHISTLE.
The candidate for admission to this Order must not have seen the game
before. Blindfold him and go through with such mock initiation as your
ingenuity may suggest, the most important part of which will be to put upon
him a cloak from the back of which must han- a short string with a small
whistle at the end. Then tell him that only oi thing remains to be done
to make him a member, he must ascertain who has the whistle, and after
sounding it once, unblind him and let the fun begin. Some one at his back
uses the whistle; he turns to seize it and of course carries it to some ov else
to sound, and so the sport goes on.
WHAT IS MY THOUGHT LIKE?
The party sitting around as usual, one of them thinks of some person,
place, or thing-the Emperor Napoleon (the first or third will do), New
York, a coal-scuttle, the Island of Tahiti-anything, in fact, that first occurs
to him-and then he asks each of the company in turn," What is my thought
like?" They, in complete ignorance as to the nature of the said thought,
reply at random. One says, for instance, "like a steam-engine;" another,
"like a cavern ;" a third, "like a tea-kettle." When an opinion has this
been collected from each one, the questioner tells what his thought was, ard
each player, under penalty of a forfeit, has to give a reason for the answer
made to the first question. We will suppose, continuing the instance just
begun, that the questioner says to the first in the company, My thought
was Napoleon III. Now, why is Napoleon III like a steam-engine?" Th-
answer is ready enough: Because he goes at an uncommonly fast pace."
" Why is he like a cavern?" Because his depth is one of his distinguishing
qualities," replies the second. "Why is he like a tea-kettle?" "Of course
because he boils over occasionally," says the third player, triumphantly; and
so the game goes merrily on through the circle.
ONE OLD OX OPENING OYSTERS.
This is a capital round game, and will tax the memory and the gravity
of the youngsters. The company being seated, the fugleman says:






" One old ox opening oysters," which each must repeat in turn -ilth perfect
gravity. Any one who indulges in the slightest giggle is mulcted of a forfeit
forthwith. When the first round is finished the f=gleman begins again:
"Two toads totally tired, trying to trot to Troy;" and the others repeat in
turn, each separately, "One old ox opening oysters; Two toads, totally tired,
etc." The third round is, Three tawny tigers tickling trout," and the round
recommences: "One old ox, etc.; Two toads, totally, etc.; Three tawny-
tigers, etc." The fourth round, and up to the twelfth and last, given out by
the fugleman successively, and repeated by the other players, are as follows:
" Four fat friars fanning a fainting fly; Five fair flirts flying to France for
fashion; Six Scotch salmon selling six sacks of sour-krout; Seven small
soldiers successfully shooting snipe; Eight elegant elephants embarking for
Europe; Nine nimble noblemen nibbling nonpareils; Ten tipsy tailors teasing
a titmouse; Eleven early earwigs eagerly eating eggs; and Twelve twittering
tomtits on the top of a tall, tottering tree." Any mistake in repeating this
legend, or any departure from the gravity suitable to the occasion, is to be
punished by the infliction of a forfeit; and the game has been seldom known
to fail in producing a rich harvest of those little pledges. Of course, a good
deal depends on the serio-comic gravity of the fugleman.
THE BLIND POSTMAN.
This is a new variation of an old game called Marching around Jeru-
salem." It is, however, more dramatic than the old-time favorite. The host
will usually offer his services as postmaster-general, or will assign the position
to some prominent guest. The postmaster-general appoints a postman, who
is blindfolded, after which the company seat themselves around the sides of
the room so as to leave a large open space.
Cards must be prepared in anticipation of the play, on each of which is
printed the name of some city, all of the cards having a different name as
" Boston," New York," Paris," Berlin," "London," Rome," etc. These
are distributed among the company each receiving the name of a city.
The postmaster-general takes a position where he can speak to the entire
company, and the postman takes his place in the middle of the room. He
now calls the names of two cities:
Boston to New York !"
The players bearing these names must instantly rise and endeavor to
change seats with each other, and the blind postman must try to capture one
of them before they can make the change. Should he succeed, he can exact
a forfeit of the person 'caught, who in turn becomes the blind postman; and
so the game proceeds.


























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"CARRY YOUR GIFTS OF FLOWERS.'
MRS. F. S. LOVEJOY.
ARRY your gifts of flowers,
In memory of the brave;
Strew them thickly, like summer showers,
Over each soldier's grave.
Bravely they fought, and well,
Nor feared the battle's strife,
And bravely for their country fell,
Dearer to them than life.
Then carry gifts of flowers,
And over graves Unknown "
Strew the fairest from spring's fair bowers,
'For God has marked each one.
"Unknown' No mother's tears,
Or wife's or sister's care,
These graves have known thro' changing years;
So place the fairest there.
Within our Nation's grounds
Are sleeping, side by side,
The friends and foes; in all your rounds
Let no grave be denied.
Through the soft summer hours
They rest in quiet sleep,
While waving trees and blooming flowers
Above their vigils keep.
No more war's clarion cry
Will call them into strife;
They've gained a glorious victory
And passed from death to life;
While over our fair land,
Even from sea to sea,
Floats undisturbed, on every hand,
Our flag of Liberty.
Then carry gifts of flowers,
In memory of the brave,
Who fought so well through weary hours,
This blessed land to save.

HOW TO CLIMB SAFELY.
T HE safety of a mountain climber depends
upon being well shod; therefore, the Swiss
guides wear heavy shoes with sharp spikes
in the soles. On a bright July morning a
famous man of science started with two gen-
tlemen to ascend Piz Morteratsch, a steep
and lofty snow mountain in Switzerland.
Though experienced mountaineers, they
took with them Senni, the boldest guide in
the district. After reaching the summit of
Morteratsch, they started back, and soon
arrived at a steep slope covered with a thin
snow. They were lashed together with a
strong rope, which was tied to each man's
waist.


"Keep carefully in my steps, gentlemen,"
said Senni, "for a false step here might start
the snow and send us down in an avalanche."
He had hardly spoken when the whole field
of ice began to slide down the icy mountain
side, carrying the unlucky climbers with it
at a terrible pace. A steeper slope was be-
fore them, and ot the end of it was a preci-
pice. The three foremost men were almost
buried in the whirling snow. Below them
were the jaws of death. Everything depend-
ed on getting a foothold. Senni shouted
loudly, "Halt! Halt !" and with desperate
energy drove his iron nail boots into the firm
ice beneath the snow. Within a few rods of
the precipice Senni got a hold with his feet,
and was able to bring the party all up stand-
ing, when two seconds more would have
swept them into the chasm.
The narrow escape shows the value of be.
ing well shod when in dangerous places.
The lesson is especially needed by the young.
No boy is well prepared for rough climbing,
unless he is well shod with Christian princi,
ples. Sometimes temptation ices the track
under him, and then he must plant his foot
down with an iron heel or he is gone.


THE PICTURE OF A MAN.
W. SHAKSPEARE.
T IS words are bonds' his oaths are oracles;
His love sincere, his ii':l.iribi immaculate;
His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart;
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.


"ARE YOU HURT, WALLACE?"
A RE you hurt Wallace, dear?" asked
A. Panzie, as she came running down
the bank the moment she saw Wallace fall
from his bicycle.
"Hurt! no, only shaken just a little,"
answered Wallace, who had just "come a
cropper" through, not looking out for
stumps and snags.
You see," Wallace added as he picked
himself up from the ground, "Pride must
have a fall, and the boys tell me that I shall
never be an expert manager of the bicycle
till I have had a dozen falls. And this is
only my third, so you see I have nine more
to have."
With this Wallace remounted his trund-
ling wheels and was off whistling merrily.


















































































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"ARE YOU HURT, WALLACE ?"


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OLD DOBBIN GRAY.
T HE merciful man is.merciful to his beast.
The man or boy who is merciful to poor
dumb beasts will never be very unkind to
any one. Farmer Armstrong was more than
merciful to his poor oia horse Dobbin Gray.
Dobbin had been a faithful servant for many
years, and now that he had grown old and
feeble he was not permitted to work any
more. Once a day the children brought him
out for a little exercise and Oscar, the farm-
er's little grandson, was allowed a short ride.
Poor old Dobbin has a very happy old age
for everybody is kind to one who has been a
faithful servant for so many years.

LESSONS OF STEM AND LEAF.
E. P. ROE.
E VERY purple-tipped strawberry run-
ner, every bud forming at the stem of
the leaf, every ripening seed, should teach us
that it is God's will that we should live and
be happy in the future as well as in the
present.

EASTER LILIES.
AGNES MADE MACHAR.
OH, where are the sweet white lilies,
Stately and fair and tall?
And why don't they grow for Easter,
Down by our garden wall?
Dear, in the bare, brown garden,
Their roots lie hidden deep,
And the life is pulsing through them,
Although they seem to sleep.
And the gardener's eye can see them,
In germs that buried lie,
Shine in the spotless beauty
That will clothe them by and by.
So may Christ see in us growing
The lillies he loves best-
The faith, the trust, the patience
He planted in the breast.
Not yet their crown of blossom,
But he sees their coming prime,
As they will smile to meet him
In earth's glad Easter time.
The love that striveth toward him,
Through earthly gloom and chill;
The faithful, meek obedience,
In darkness following still-
These are the Easter lilies,
Spotless and fair and sweet,
We would bring to the risen Saviour,
And lay at his blessed feet.


EASTER EGGS.
T is not altogether easy to establish the
connection between eggs and Easter Day,
as we have a number of superstitions to
choose from. The Persians, for instance,
used eggs as a New Year's gift, as symbolizing
prosperity. The Romans had egg games in
honor of Castor and Pollux, who were said to
have been hatched from an egg of the swan
Leda. A race-course was laid out in the
form of an oval, and decorated eggs were
given as prizes to the victors. As the new
year, with the Romans, began at Easter,
nothing was easier than to transfer the egg
custom from the Pagan to the Christian fes-
tival. Furthermore, eggs formed a part of
the Passover feast of the Jews, being put on
the table, we are told, "in honor of the
bird, Ziz,"-a fowl holding as important a part
in the rabbinical legends as the Roc does
in the tales of the Orient. It is quite possi-
ble, however, that our modern Easter eggs
had no such far-fetched beginning. In the
fourth century the eating of eggs during
Lent was forbidden. But as the unothodox
hens continued to lay, there was naturally a
large accumulation of eggs by the close of
Lent. On Easter Day, then, they formed the
first "flesh food" eaten, and they were set-
out in great platters upon the tables. As
the appetite was soon cloyed upon them, and
they were so plenteous, the suggestion prob-
ably followed to give them to the children
to play with, for which purpose, of course,
it was necessary to boil them hard, The
simple fact of the plenteousness of the eggs
at these medieval Easters seems to account
readily enough for the fancy for decorating
them, giving them away, or using them for
sports. Later came in the emblematic idea,
which accepted the egg as an emblem of the
resurrection. The custom became very pop-
ular in Europe and continued to modern
times. In France, eggs gilded and painted,
were brought as tribute to the King in
heaped baskets, and after being blessed by
the chaplain or bishop they were distributed.
The decorated eggs, filling the toy shops and
hawked about in the streets, are now one of
the sights of Paris in Easter week, and
everybody gives everybody else an egg or a
picture of an egg in honor of the occasion.
In Russia Easter Day is Calling Day, as New
Year's Day with us, and each swain who
sallies forth has his pockets full of hard-boiled
eggs. Meeting a friend, he salutes him


































THE HERITAGE OF THE RICH
AND THE POOR.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
HE rich man's son inherits lands,
SK And piles of brick and stone and gold
And he inherits soft, white hands,
And tender flesh that fears the cold,
Nor dares to wear a garment old;
A heritage, it seems to me,
SOne would not care to hold in fee
The rich man's son inherits cares:
The bank may break, factory burn;
( Some breath may burst his bubbles hares;
And soft, white hands would hardly earn



What does the poor man's son inherit?
Stout muscles and a sinewy heart;
A hardy frame, a hardier spirit;
King of two hands; he does his part
~I, \ n every useful toil and art,
*" A heritage, it seems to me,
A king might wish to hold in fee.
,W \ VWhat. does the poor man's son inherit?
Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things;
A rank adjudged by toil-worn merit;
S... Content that from employment springs;
A heart that in his labor sings;
A heritage, it seems to me,
A kingmight wish to hold in fee.
Both heirs to some six feet of sod,
SAre equal in the ground at last;
S 'Both children of the same dear God;
S\ Prove title to your heirship vast,
SBy records of a well-filled past;
"\ A heritage, it seems to me,
Well worth a life to hold in fee.







after -the manner of the early Christains:
"Christ is risen!" To which the reply is
made: "He is risen, indeed!" Then the two
exchange eggs, and usually rub their beards
together in token of good will. Ladies who
" receive" have platters of gaily colored eggs
to give away, and always a kiss can be
claimed with the exchange of eggs, if either
party desires. In Scotland, where Easter
proper has been suppressed for centuries,
aster Monday is unfailingly celebrated
among the young people by rolling hard-
boiled eggs down hill. In England and in
the continental countries for centuries a
feature of the same day has been ball playing
with eggs, the hardest and the toughest one
proving the winner ,of the game. In the
villages of the continent another old custom
was to scatter a number of eggs on the village
green, when the young couples would dance
among them, and if any pair concluded the
figures without stepping upon an egg they
were to be regarded as affianced. This cus-
tom once brought about a very happy royal
marriage between Philibert the Handsome,
King of Savoy, and the fair Marguerita of
Austria, who successfully performed the egg
dance at Bresse on Easter Day, 1501, and
were married the same year. The absurd
fiction which connects the rabbit or hare with
Easter eggs comes from a German nursery
tale, and originated, no doubt, in the desire
of. some parent or nurse to hoax the children
as to the origin of their favorite eggs.


BONES! BONES NOTHING BUT BONES I
HOW many bones in the human face?
Fourteen, when they're all in place.
How many bones in the human head?
Eight, my child, as I've often said.
How many bones in the human ear?
Three in each, and they help to hear.
How many bones in the human spine?
Twenty-six, like a climbing vine.
How many bones in the human chest?
Twenty-four ribs, and two of the rest.
How many bones the shoulders bind?
Two in each: one before, one behind
How many bones in the human arm?
In each arm one; two in each fore-arm.
How many bones in the human wrist?
Eight in each, if none are missed.


How many bones In the palm of the hand?
Five in each, with many. a band.
How many bones in the fingers ten?
Twenty-eight, and by joints they bend.
How many bones in the human hip?
One in each; like a dish they dip.
How many bones in the human thigh?
One in each, and deep they lie.
How many bones in the human knees?
One in each, the knee-pan please.
How many bones in the leg from the knee?
Two in each, we can plainly see.
How many bones in the ankle strong?
Seven in each, but none are long
How many bones in the ball of the foot?
Five in each, as in the palms were put.
How many bones in the toes half a score?
Twenty-eight, and there are no more.
And now, all together, these many bones fix
And they count in the body two hundred and six
And then we have in the human mouth,
Of upper and under, thirty-two teeth.
And we now and then have a bone, I should think,
That forms on a joint, or to fill up a chink.
A seamoid bone, or a wormian we call,
And now we may restfor we've told them all

TRUTH IN A STRAIGHT LINE.
THOMAS BRASFORD.
T RUTH lies in a straight line, following
S which a man may always stand erect in
the full dignity of his manhood; but false-
hood ever has a zigzag, underground course,
pursuing which he must bend his judgment,
twist his conscience and warp his manhood
till he ceases to be a man.

CONCERNING MONEY.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
A ND as for money-Don't you remember
the old saying, "Enough is as good as
feast"? Money never made a man happy
yet, nor will it. There is nothing in its
nature to produce happiness. The more a
man has, the more he wants. Instead of its
filling a vacuum, it makes one. If it satis-
fies one want, it doubles and trebles that
want another way. That was a true proverb
of the wise man, rely upon it: "Better is
little with the fear of the Lord than great
treasure, and trouble therewith."




































































THE MUSIC OF THE MARSH.

When the sun is going down and the stars are at a twinkle, Oh, Froggie, sing your song in peace-liftup your chorus shrill-
And the drapery of night falls down without a wrinkle, And make the evening's musical, though they be warm or chill.
A quaint and curious chorus in the twilight is agog, We'd miss you in the May time with your tiny pollywog,
And 'tis then we hear the music of the fair and festive frog. If we didn't hear your music, Oh, festive, merry frog.






ON DUTY.
EMMIA L. BR'RNETT.
UTNCLE ALEX came out on the back pi-
azza with his newspaper, and was just
going to seat himself in one of the arm chairs,
when a very large spider, weaving its wel
among the vines, attracted his attention. lie
went closer to look at it, and presently called
to Neddie, who was playing in the yard:
"Neddie come and see this huge spider."
"I can't come now, Uncle Alex," replied
Neddie; I am on duty."
Uncle Alex stopped looking at the spider
and looked at Neddie. lie had a paper sol-
dier-cap on, and, carrying his toy gun, was
gravely pacing up and down before his tent,
which was pitched on the grass under the
big cherry-tree. Will Ramsey and two or
three other boys were in the adjoining
meadow galloping around on sticks and
flourishing wooden swords. There was prob-
ably a battle going on, though the cows
chewing their cud under the trees didn't
seem a bit frightened.
"What are you doing?" asked Uncle
Alex.
"I'm a sentinel keeping guard," said
Neddie.
Can't you come over here just a minute
if I watch the tent ?"
No indeed,"answered Neddie decidedly.
"Soldiers mustn't go away a second when
they're on duty."
"Well, well," said Uncle Alex, seeming
quite amused as he sat down to his paper.
Towards the close of the afternoon, when
the tent was deserted, and the boys were
playing something else at the other side of
the house, Neddie's mother came out on the
porch from the kitchen carrying a small
basket. She looked hastily around, and
then called, "Neddie, Neddie! where are
you ?"
"Here, mamma he shouted, bounding
around the corner of the house and up the
steps.
I want you to go over to the store and
get me two pounds of sugar and half a
pound of raisins" said his mother, adding,
as she gave him the basket and some money,
"Now don't be gone long. I'm making
something good for supper, and want those
things as soon as possible."
About ten minutes after Neddie had gone,
Uncle Alex started to the post-office. When
he reached the little brook which had to be


crossed to get to the village, he saw Neddie
standing on the bridge throwing pebbles in.
to the water.
Hello, Neddie!"he said, "I thought you
were on duty."
"No sir," replied the boy, looking up in
surprise; "we're not playing soldier any
more. Mamma sent me on an errand."
"Did she send you here to throw pebbles
in thebrook ?"
"No, sir; she sent me to the store for
something."
I thought I heard her giving you a com-
mission which was to be executed with
promptness and dispatch, and knowing you
to be such a soldierly fellow, who could not
be tempted away from duty a moment, I
wonder, rather, to see you standing here."
and Uncle Alex stroked his whiskers medi-
tatively and knit his brows as though he
was trying to study the matter out.
Neddie, with a puzzled expression, looked
steadily in his uncle's face for a moment or
two, and then turning toward the village
was off like a flash,
Uncle Alex was standing on the post-
office steps reading a letter, when lie hap-
pened to see Neddie come out of the grocery
store with his basket and walk rapidly home-
ward. Some little boys on the other side
of the street also spied him, and running
over, surrounded him, evidently wanting
him to stop with them a.little while, but he,
though in a very good-natured way, de-
clined there invitation, and kept on his way.
He realized that lie was on duty.


JESSICA'S BOUDOIR.
/AY ARMITAGE'S sister Emily has
Spent a summer in Europe and on her
return brought May the loveliest doll from
Paris with a little trunk of doll's clothes.
Threrewere at least seven different dresses and
as many beautiful little hats. Since her return
from abroad Miss Armitage had changed
the name of her pretty little dressing room
to the fine French name "boudoir." May
soon caught up the new name and said her
doll could have a "boudoir just as well as
Emily. She called her little doll Jessica,
and the quiet lit le spot at the foot of the
big elm tree where May used to dress and
undress her beautiful doll was known as
"Jessica's Boudoir."






































































JESSICA'S BOUDOIR.






"NO YOU DON'T !"
SUSIE has gone to sleep. She is thor-
oughly tired out, too tired to eat the
piece of cake that remains on her plate.
Master Tip has a very fine nose for cake,
and if there was no one else around he would
soon have that piece of cake between his teeth.
But Miss Malty, Susie's little cat, is on guard,
and says just as plain as a little cat can say:-
"No you don't Master Tip Not while I'm
here. Y_ u're a nice sort of a dog to take
adv of your little Mistress being asleep,
if you a boy you'd be mean enough to
try and win a pair of gloves."

THE STOUTEST HEARTS ARE THOSE
THAT BLEED.
BY FATHER RYAN.
THE summer rose the sun has flushed
With crimson glory, may be sweet-
'Tis sweeter when its leaves are crushed
Beneath the winds' and tempests' feet.
The rose, that waves upon its tree,
In life,, sheds perfume all around-
More sweet the perfume floats to me
Of roses trampled on the ground.
The waving rose, with every breath.
Scents, carelessly the summer air-
The wounded rose bleeds forth in death
A sweetness far more rich and rare.
It is a truth beyond our ken-
And yet a truth that all may read-
It is with roses as with men,
The sweetest hearts are those that bleed.
The flower which Bethlehem saw bloom
Out of a heart all full of grace.
Gave never forth its full perfume
Until the cross became its vase.

SUNDAY MORNING TALKS.
VI. THE FOOL'S CREED.
THOMAS W. IIANDFORD.
TH-IERE is no great difficulty in under-
standing what the Bible means when it
speaks of a man as a fool. The phrase is
never used in the Bible in scorn of a man
of weak or imperfect intellect. The fool of
the Bible is not a man of unbalanced mind,
a mental weakling, or an imbecile; but one
who, blessed with reason, wilfully runs coun-
ter to the teachings of sound judgment.
The poor demented child who puts his hand
in the fire, not knowing that the fire will


burn, is to be pitied and cared for most ten.
derly. But the man who, knowing that the
fire burns, still plays with fire, is a fool, and
has only himself to thank for the scorching
and the scars. In short, the fool of the Bible
is one who, blessed with the inestimable
treasure of a sound mind,-will not follow its
teachings. The fool of the Bible will sow
the wind, though he knows perfectly well he
must sooner or later reap the whirlwind; he
will turn aside from the fountain of living
waters, and spend his life and strength in
hewing out broken cisterns that he knows
can hold no water; he will make a mock at
sin, though he knows that the wages of sin
are death; he will look upon the wine when
it is red, though he knows that at the last it
biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an ad-
der. There can be no reasonable complaint
against the Bible for calling such men fools;
on the contrary, there should be great thank-
fulness that the Bible lifts its voice of warn-
ing with such clearness and fidelity. But
there is another kind of folly that takes very
largely the form of stubbornness, and be-
cause the impossible is not made possible
and easy, utterly refuses to give credence,
not to say faith, to that which is shrouded
in mystery. This folly says: What I can
not know I will utterly reject. There shall
be no place in my creed for anything that is
not capable of the most complete demon-
stration." This is the arrogance of ignor-
ance. This is folly of the emptiest kind.
And there are many who are foolish enough
to boast that they are so far removed
from credulity and superstition that they de-
cline to believe anything that is not made
perfectly clear to them. Such a creed will
be very brief; in fact there will be nothing
to record. The final step of such folly is to
complete the picture David saw. Folly per-
fected says: "There is no God That a
man may have serious doubts about the ex-
istence of a personal God, is quite easy to
understand. Some things seem too good to
be true, and faith stands faltering by. Some
things are too great for mortal grasping, and
not infrequently the blazing light in which
one stands so dazzles the feeble orbs of vis-
ion that the landscape about our feet is for
the time being hidden from our eyes. But
the man is a fool who, in the face of all
the ten thousand probabilities that stand be-
fore him, avows the sad negation as his creed.
Let us never forget that religion, to be
worth the name of religion, must always be






















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"NO YOU DON'T!"


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V







a hope rather than a demonstration. This
was enough for the Apostle Paul,a man whose
mind was so far-reaching and colossal in its
grasp that no man need be ashamed to fol-
low where he trod. IIe declared on the
plainest grounds the utter inexcusableness
of atheism. In his wonderful letter to the
Romans he says: Because that which may
be known of God is manifest in them; for
God has shown it unto them. For the in-
visible things of Him, from the creation of
the world, are clearly seen, being under-
stood by the things that are made, even His
eternal power and God-head; so that they
are without excuse." In other words, the
seen is wholly inexplicable, save on the
ground that it points to the unseen; and the
known is wholly unaccountable, save as it
points to a wide and boundless realm of the
unknown. The folly of men who take a
negation for their creed is only seen when we
come to think of the poverty of such a creed.
Without God we are without hope, for the
life that is and for the life that is to be. We
can not dream of a world without God. God
can not be retired from our life, from our
world, from our homes. He is interwoven
in the warp and woof of the world's history.
The creed of Atheism is the nightmare of
disordered souls.
Could I for a moment deem
God is not in all I see,
O how awful were the dream,
Of a world devoid of Thee!
But since Thou are ever near,
Ruling all that comes to me,
I can smile at pain or tears,
For they come in love from Thee.

HOW DIMES ARE MADE.
T HE United States Mint in San Frah-
cisco is said to be the largest of the
kind in the world. Just at the present time
there is a lively demand for silver dimes,
and two of the money presses have been for
some tilyP. running exclusively on this coin.
The deq ad is so great that these machines
are not even stopped on Sunday. The pro-
cess of dime making is an interesting one.
The silver bullion is first melted and run
into two-pound bars. These in turn are
run through immense rollers and flattened
out to the thickness of the coin. These sil-
ver strips are then passed through a machine,
which cuts them into proper size for the
presses, the strips first having been treated


with a kind of tallow Io prevent their being
scratched in their passage through the cur-
ters. The silver pieces are then put into
the feeder of the printing presses, and are
fed to the die by automatic machinery at
the rate of 100 per minute, 48,000 dimes
being turned out in a regular working day
of twelve hours.
As the smooth pieces are pressed between
the ponderous printing dies, they receive
the lettered and figured impression in a
manner similar to that of a paper pressed
upon a form of type; at the same time the
piece is expanded in a slight degree, and the
small corrugations are cut in its rim. The
machine drops the completed coin into a
receiver, and it is ready for the counter's
hands. The instrument used by the count-
er is not a complicated machine by any
means, as one might suppose. It is a sim-
pla, copper-colored tray, having raised edges
running across its surface at a distance
about the exact width of a dime. From the
receiver the money is dumped on the board
or tray, and as it is shaken rapidly by the
counter the pieces settle down into the
spaces between the ridges.
All these spaces being filled, the surplus
coin is brushed back into the receiver, and
the counter has exactly 1,250 silver dimes,
or $125 on the tray, which number is re-
quired to fill the spaces. The tray is then
emptied into boxes, and the money is ready
for shipment. The dime does not pass
through the weigher's hands, as does the
coin of a larger denomination. One and
one-half grains is allowed for variation, or
"tolerance." in all silver coins from a dollar
down, and the deviation from the standard
in the case of the ten-cent pieces is so
trifling that the trouble and expense of
weighing coins of this denomination is dis-
pensed with.


A GENTLE MOTHER.
D OX'T imagine for a moment that that cat
is cruel because she carries her kitten in
her mouth. The truth is, it is just the ten-
derest way possible to carry a kitten about
Old Sue has long been a favorite at the farm.
She is a proud mother, as she well may be,
with that beautiful piece of ribbon round
her neck and that more beautiful kitten in
her mouth. A very proud and a very gentle
mother is old Sue.

































































CHARLEY AND HIS PET.









GYP'S MORNING LESSON.
N OW Master Gyp, sit up and beg very
prettily and you shall have this piece
of sugar. But now marK, my dear little pet,
I have brought you out into Grandpa's big
garden chair, because I want to give you a
special lesson this morning. You know,
Gyp, we have company in the house, and I
want you to behave in the best possible man-
ner. Specially I want you to leave Kittie
alone. I'm sure she's a well-behaved little
Kittie, and does you no harm, and yet for all
that I saw you chasing her all over the
garden yesterday, and finally to escape you,
she ran up a tree, and there you sat at the
foot of the tree barking for more than an
hour, and you would not let her come down.
Gyp, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.
And I really think by the look of your eyes
you are. Now do try and be a good dog,
don't run out with your tail bristling up
every time you see a dog go by, as if you
were dying for a fight. Be a good, obedient
dog, and I'll take you a walk every day dur-
ing vacation, and you shall have a lump of
sugar every morning, as long as there is a
lump left in Grandma's sugar bowl.

A BARREL OF WHISKEY.

A DRAYMAN rolled forth from his cart to
the street,
A red-headed barrel, well bound and complete;
And on it red letters, like forked tongues of flame,
Emblazoned the grade, number, quality, fame,
Of this world-renowned whiskey from somebody's
still,
Who arrested the grain on the way to the mill.
So there stood the barrel delivered, but I
Could see that a shadow was hovering nigh,
A sulphurous shadow that grew as I gazed
To the form of Mephisto. Though sorely amazed,
I ventured to question thisimp of the realm,
Where Vice is the Pilot, with Crime at the Helm;
And asked him politely his mission to name,
And if he was licensed to retail the same
Identical barrel of whiskey which he
Was fondly surveying with demoniac glee?
'Oh, I never handle the stuff," he replied,
"My mortal partners are trusty and tried;
Mayhap, peradventure you might wish to look
At the invoice complete-I will read from this book.
You will find that this barrel contains something
more
Than forty two gallons of whiskey galore."
And ere I could slip but another word in,
He checked it off gaily, this cargo of sin:
"A barrel of headaches, of heartaches, of woes;
A barrel of curses, a barrel of blows;
A barrel of tears from a world-weary wife:
A barrel of sorrow, a barrel of strife;


A barrel of all-unavailing regret;
A barrel of cares and a barrel of debt;
A barrel of crime and a barrel of pain;
A barrel of hopes ever blasted and vain;
A barrel of falsehood, a barrel of cries
That fall from the maniac's lips as he dies;
A barrel of agony, heavy and dull;
A barrel of poison-of this nearly full;
A barrel of poverty, ruin and blight;
A barrel of terrors that grow with the night;
A barrel of hunger, a barrel of groans;
A barrel of orphans' most pitiful moans;
A barrel of serpents that hiss as they pass
From the bead on the liquor that glowsin the glass
My barrel! My treasure! I bid thee farewell,
Sow ye the foul seed, I will reap it in Hell!"


THE LEGEND OF THE LOOM AND THE
HAMMER.
JOAQUIN MILLER.
WAS living in Nazareth, a good many
years ago, when an old man asked me one
sweet spring morning to lay my ear to the
ground and listen to what I might hear.
There was a dull, soft, far-away sound,
not much unlike the thrumbing of a grouse
in a fir tree high up on the wooded hills of
Oregon. Only this sound here at Nazareth
was softer, and too, it seemed not so monot-
onous.
The sound, heard only at rare intervals,
and when the wind lay very low, was at first
very faint, and very soft and doubtful. But
after awhile I heard a heavier and a harder
stroke. Then the two would blend together
and then finally be lost, to be lifted up to
the thick tangle of foliage by the road-
side, which hung in festoons above and about
us, where the doves sat and sang, or the
bluebird flitted along in a line of sapphire.
But in the morning, if the morning is
still, and warm and pleasant, go out on the
hills and listen. Listen and believe, and
you will hear the low, soft and almost pa-
thetic monotony of sound of which I have
spoken.
"And what does it all mean?" I at last
asked of the half-naked old son of Syria who
had constituted himself my guide and only
companion.
He put a whole pile of dirty fingers to his
thin, brown lips, and would not answer.
But as spring advanced, day after day we
went on the wooded hills to catch the sound.
Sometimes, not often, however, we were re-
warded, for in Nazareth, as well as else-
where, there are cloudy days, and days of
wind and storm.




















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GFYP'S MORNING LESSON








But to cut the story short, as I was about
to leave this holiest place on earth to one
who loves the woods and believes in God,
the ragged old follower led me once more up
to the hills to lay my ear for the last time to
the bosom of the earth. I never heard the
sound so distinctly before.
What can it mean?"
The old man crept close and whispered in
his wild and broken way: "The loom It
is Mary at her loom; and then the carpenter's
hammer."
You understand? Then let it go at that.
But it then and there seemed to me as the
most beauteous thought, the most entirely
pathetic thing on all this earth, to feel that
through eighteen hundred years there still
echoed the sound of Mary's loom and the
stroke of the carpenter's hammer.
And I thought if I could teach the toiling
world that Mary still leans to hear the loom,
that Christ is still in some sort a carpenter,
I might maybe bridge over the awful gulf of
infidelity and lead the world to redemption.
But even if I could teach each laborer the
dignity of his labor, show him how God
worked at a trade, how the echo of the ham-
mer is still heard-if I could only teach one
poor broken hearted old woman bending to
her toil that Mary toiled the same way, why,
that would be glory, glory enough and
enough of good.


ODD SAYINGS.
AS poor as a church mouse,
As thin as a rail;
As fat as a porpoise,
As rough as a gale;
As brave as a lion,
As spry as a cat;
As bright as a sixpence,
As weak as a rat.
As proud as a peacock,
As fly as a fox;
As mad as a March hare,
As strong as an ox;
As fair as a lily,
As empty as air;
As rich as Crcesus,
As cross as a bear.
As pure as an angel,
As neat as a pin;
As smart as a steel-trap,
As ugly as sin;
As dead as a door-nail,
As white asa sheet;
As.flat as a pancake,
As red as a beet.


As round as an apple,
As black as your hat;
As brown as a berry,
As blind as a bat;
As mean as a miser,
As full as a tick;
As plump as a patridge,
As sharp as a stick.
As clean as a penny,
As dark as a pall;
As hard as a millstone,
As bitter as gall;
As fine as a fiddle,
.As clear as a bell;
As dry as a herring,
As deep as a well.
As light as a feather,
As firm as a rock;
As stiff as a poker,
As calm as a clock;
As green as a gosling,
As brisk as a bee;
Now let me stop,
Lest you weary of me.

WHAT THE BEES SAY.
-"T WONDER what the bees are trying to
Essay as they go buzz-buzz-buzzing in and
out of the hive? said little Effe to her
Aunt, who had sat down for a little rest at
the end of their morning walk.
"I hardly know my dear," said Miss
Windsor," but I think we may easily fancy
what they would say if they could speak.
That little fellow who is crowding his way
into the hive says-'Dear me, I'm tired, but
I've got such a load of honey. Every flower
has yielded honey. Honey, honey, honey!
The world is full of honey.' And that one just
settling on the white clover blossom says:
'There's no time to be lost, winter is com-
ing, there is no time to be lost!' And that
one winging its way in the distance, sings as
it flies, as if it would teach us that all our
duties should be discharged with a glad heart.
So my dear, there are three wise lessons for
us at the end of our morning's walk. The
world is full of honey-There is no time to
be lost-We should do our work with a glad
and merry heart.

HOW THE FARMER PACKS APIM.BS.
And now the cunning farmer packs
His apples for town;
This is the top row of his sacks
0000000000000000000
And this lower down
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.


































































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A JAGUAR CATCHING FISH.


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CLOVER BLOSSOMS.
JESSE HIENDERSON.
r 'READING, tripping, trudging through
'JL T li; idd(s of blowing grasses,
Clover blossoms everywhere,
How merrily time passes!
Clovr blossoms while.and red
Swaying with the grasses.
SCe tlie s'llnn1wtr's ininlic snow,
Thle daisy petals lIying!
Ililiser, thither, everywhere,
Upon the grasses k1ing:
O'er tl clover whilt and red
Daisy petals flying.
What is now tll time of day?
Ask your gray heads olden.
Who would gue s that ever they
Were dndelllio s golden ?
'Moiig the clover white and red
Blow the gray heads olden.
Butercups, your story tell
And sai who's fond of butter ?
Violets :r ise and dance
For all tile fie l's a-flutteri
See the clovr' white aniid red
Swaying wiii tli e gra.sses.

THE PRINCESS AND HER TEN SER-
VANTS.
A FAIRY TALE.
'rpil ;!.:. was at king who had a little
l daughter whom lie loved very much.
He wanted to make her a beautiful and wise
princess ; so lie sent her to a country where
she was to pass through many schools and
learn lessons that would fit her for her fath-
er's home. This kind father did not send
his little daughter alone. lie gave her ten
servants to wait upon and care for her.
Two of these servants were to show her
all the beautiful and useful things that she
should meet with in her absence, and when
she got homesick they were to bid her look
up and tell it all to father, and lie would
hear and comfort her. Two more were to
help the little girl to hear sweet music and
sounds that would give her joy and pleas-
ure, and that would tell her about what she
saw, and bid her always remember her fath-
er's love. Two more carried her wherever
she went; and poor indeed would she have
been without these little servants. Another
told her all she wanted to say to those around
heir, and sung hymns of praise to her father,
the king. Two more helped her to do every-
thing that would give happiness to herself
and others about her; but the last servant


was only seen by her father and herself.
When this one did his bidding, then all the
other servants were faithful and true, and the
little girl was beautiful and happy. The last
servant always told his little mistress to love
her father dearly, and not want to guide the
other servants to do what would-displease
him. Sometimes the princess would say to
herself, Father is not here, and I will do
what I please,' then in spite of this servant's
pleading she bade him guide the others into
forbidden paths, and thus brought upon her-
self trouble and pain.
"You see that even a little princess, with
ten servants to wait upon her, may at times
do ,I ,In_1f .- things.
"At last the loving father gave a com-
Anand to each of his daughter's servants, cal-
ling them by name as he spoke. The names
and command were these:
"' Little Eyes, look up to God;
Little Ears, bear His word;
Little Feet, walk His ways;
Little Mouth, sing His praise;
Little. Hands, do His will;
Little Heart, love Him still.'

"When the little princess heard these
commands, she made them into one great
message for herself; and when she was
tempted to bid her servants to do wrong, she
would say: 'No, no; I will not, for there are
S"'Two little eyes to look to God;
Two little ears to hear His word;
Two little feet to walk Hlis ways;
One little mouth ts sing His praise;
Two little hands to do ills will,
And one little heart to love Him still.'

Then her whole soul would be filled with
love to her kind father, and all wicked
thoughts would fly away."


NAIN.
LUTHER JOIhN LOCKHART.
And lie came and touched the bier; and they that bare
him stood still."-Lu ke 7: 14.
ASTER! and wilt thou come to our small Nain,
Amid love's lone farewells, and life's sad
closes?
And wilt thou share our tears and ease our pain,
And touch the bier on which our dead reposes?
Well may the bearers pause, if thou draw near,
And tle slow, mournful train entranced listen;
And well nmay smiles of wondering joy appear
'Neath low-drooped lids, where tears were wont to
glisten!



























































I ,

II,


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CLOVER BLOSSOMS.


- --~


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QUESTIONS.
(C1AN you put the spider's web back .m place
l That once has 1Ibeen swept awa y?
Cin you 'pul, lthle aIppe ;iagLin oil tlhei bough
Which fell at out-flecttoday?
Cnn yo plu the 'i. .'up bhack on the sten,
A di cauii it tIC ', aInd Ilrow?
C(an you iend ll hue Itlcrly's Ibroken wing
'That yolu crl icd wilth ;a hsly linw?
Can you ut the bloom aI:li.in oile li raLpe,
And lih g'rapi e iaaini on lhc vine?
Cln yIou pt le ii I dwdrops lin k iL tlhe flowers,
Ani n]mkc Ii n sp u'ke !iiid shrine?
C(ill youl pill lhe pwt;is Iback ni lilte rose?
If y ,iu c iuld, would it sinell as sLweet?
Caii you pu11 the flower again on ithe husk,
Ald show LILO lhripenecd wxIieat?
CLI yolt put tlhe kerrnel hack in l he nut,
Or tlif broken egg in the shell?
Can you put thie honey back in the comb,
And cover with wax each cell?
Can you put, the perfume back in the vase
WiciD once it has spedil away?
Can you you put the corn-silk back on the corn,
Or down on the catkins? Sav!
You think my questions are trifling, dear?
Let I me ask another one:
Can a hasty word ever lie unsaid
Or an unkiud deed undone?


NED'S WATER-WHEEL.
MRS. n. N. CIDY.
" T~TO for the country!" shouted Ned
L Warren, as he rushed into the hall
of his New York home on the last day of
school. School is out at last, and now we
can go!" lie declared, as lie grasped his sis-
ter Nell around the waist and danced her
down the passage.
Don't be absurd, Ned!" remarked that
young lady, trying to free herself from his
arms.
Oh, well, perhaps you don't care to go!"
ie replied, letting her go in time to catch
his mot her, whIo had just reached tlhe foot of
the slairs. Perhaps yon like staying in
the city ;ll sinlnmor, bit I dolnt I'mi ready
to slilrt this afternoonll.
\\e can start to-ilorroW, can't we
motherr" le asked, caressing the sweet faced
little womanll at his side.
Not quite so soon," she replied, return-
ing the caress he had given. We shall
probably start Mondaiy; you certainly can
wait that short time when a whole two
months' visit is before you," she added, as
she saw the look of disappointment which
momentarily overshadowed his face.
I suppose I've got to," he replied, as he


made his way up stairs to prepare for dinner.
Monday came at last, and with it the jour-
ney in the cars and the subsequent ride over
the fresh country road to grandfather's farm
far up along the New Hampshire hills.
Never were Ihappier children than those who
jumped from the long buckboard and rushed
pell mell into grandma's open arms. The
barns and stables were visited, the dogs seen
and caressed, and even the turkeys and
chickens-had received their share of atten-
tion before the sun hid himself for the day
behind the great western mountain top, and
grandma's voice called them to supper in
the long, cool dining-room. What a grand,
old room it was, with its rafters showing
overhead, and its great' wide fire-place-
filled with logs which were ready to burst
into flame when the weather should become
cool-cutting, off one corner of the apart-
ment. On either side of the chimney-piece
were the glass-covered cupboards, where
grandma's best china and glass was displayed.
'The supper spread upon the heavy oaken
table, was the final evidence to the children's
minds at least, that they were really in
grandma's home at last. Nowhere else was
the butter so golden, or honey so tempting,
as here; and the precious seed-cakes. which
no one but grandmother knew so well how
to make, were there in profusion.
A whole summer before them, and this
delightful place to spend it in! Were chil-
dren ever so blessed as they? "Never!"
thought they, as they rushed down stairs the
following morning, and prepared to follow
the haynakers into the field.
But hay-making does not last forever, and
all new things become old in time, so when
at last a rainy day came, both Ned and his
little sister Ethel were far from dissatisfied
with their fate. Now, Ned could make tie
waterwheel Joe Barney had told him about,
and Ethel might assist him, perhaps. Pos-
sibly the result would not have been as satis-
factory, however, if Joe had not come to the
rescue, and given his active assistance, as
well as advice, in its construction. Joe was
a genuine Yankee, and consequently thor-
oughly at-holme with his jack-knife. IIav-
ing lived many years with grandfather War-
retn he was much attached to the children,
and was ever ready to assist them in their
small undertakings.
The rain fortunately continued to fall all
day : iand before night Joe had not onlynam.
pleted the wheel, but a small trough also,







































































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through which he was to convey the water
from the danm.
"But where are we to get the dam?" asked
Ethel.
Why, make it, of course," answered
Ned, as he examined the uprights upon which
the wheel was to turn.
"You think the brook in the lower mea-
dow lot will be better than that behind the
barn ?" lie went on, as he watched Joe sand-
paper the ends of the axle.
Yes," replied Joe, it will be out of
the way there ; and your grandfather might
object to our filling up that one. The cattle
water there sometimes, you know."
When do you believe you'll get a chance
to help in build it? asked.Ned, full of his
project.
Might have a few minutes to-morrow if I
don't have to go to town," he continued, as
the thought suddenly came to him, "you
and Ethel could fill up the brook just below
the old wall with those stones I threw into a
heap last spring. You'll find them close by the
spot where I mean. and I'll run down to-mor-
row morning after breakfast, and show you
kow.
S',. to his promise Joe went with the
children on the following 'morning, and
showed th:em ow to pack the stones. The
spot which he had chosen was one where the
brook having suddenly narrowed, forced itself
a channel between two quite steep hanks.
"For."' aid he, "if we took a shallower
place the water would spread out more, and
we shouldn't get enough force on our wheel."
Then he lifted a few of the larger stones in
wit i the sm'ller ones at hand. By noon they
had tilled in quite a wide space, leaving a
narrow channel for the water to run through.
When grandpa heard what they were try-
ing to make. lie let Joe off for-the rest of the
afternoon; and with his assistance they pro-
grosted much more rapidly with their work.
After the brook had been filled for some dis-
tani'e with the stones. Joe shoveled in some
coarse gravel, and later, when the passage
for the water was finally stopped, lie covered
the whole with sods, pounding them in place
with his foot. Now they built up the face
of the damn carefully and solidly, like a wall:
and finally when the trough had been fitted
or sunk slightly into the structure, the large,
iat stones Joe had reserved for the purpose
were placed on top, and the children had the
satisfaction of seeing a full shimmering
stream fall from the trough.


It was but the work of a few minutes te
place the wheel in position, when it began
to turn rapidly over and over, making a soft,
dreamy kind of creaking sound; pleasanter
to the children's ears than the most enchant-
ing music.
During the long summer, that water-wheel
was ever a source of amusement to the chil-
dren; and even the older members of the fam-
ily shared to some degree in their delight.
When the fall came, and they were to return
to their city home, it was taken from its place
in the brook and stored in the shed loft,
where it would safely rest until another suim-
mer brought it into usefulness again. And
there it rests to-day.

GROWN-UP LAND.
"/ OOD-morning, fair maid, with lashes brown!
kT Can you tell me the way to Womanhood
town?"
" 0, this way and thatway-you can never stop.
'Tis picking up stitches that grandma will drop,
'Tis kissing the baby's wee troubles away,
'Tis learning that cross words never will pay,
"'is helping mamma, 'tis sewing up rents,
'Tis reading and playing, 'tis saving the cents,
'Tis loving and smiling, forgetting to frown-
0, that is the way to Womanhood Town."
".'ust wait, my brave lad; one moment I pray.
Manhood Town lies where-can you tell me the
way?"
" 0, by toiling and trying we reach that land.
A bit with the head, a bit with the hand:
'Tis by climbing up the rugged hill Work,
'Tis by keeping out of the wide street Shirk,
'Ti byv always i Ik.i.L il.. weak one's part,
'Tis bvy giving 7: .,tii. I m happy heart,
'Tis by keeping bad thoughts and actions down-
0, that is the way to Manhood Town."
And the lad and the maid ran hand in hand
To their fair estates in the '-'Grown-up Land."


HETTIE'S THANKSGIVING DAY
ESCAPADE.
MAY BLOSSOM DAVIS.
T HERE is something very lovely in the
iiT. i;1..11 between old people and chil-
dren -the first are so full of the rich and.
useful experiences of a long life, one that has
solved all the mysteries and surmounted all
the sorrows of living, and is looking earnestly
forward into that which is to come with a.
new and almost longing interest, as if their
feet had already begun to tread the holy soil'
of the sweet Beula land. What wonder that
they love to guide and instruct the little




























































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- ----- 'A


HETTIE'S THANKSGIVING DAY ESCAPADE.


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ones. and show them how to avoid thle dan-
gers and mistakes along the way of life.
Wnile the children, in their first strange
awakening to a new and untried world ini.-..
with the wonderfully and the great, cling to
the old, who have solved all these innlterious
secrets, wil.t a reverent admltiration that is
akin to worship.
So while the one gives loving and hopeful
counsel, th! other gives a trustful allection
and depeindence.
I remember a story told me by a lady who,
when a little girl, loved her grandmamma
very tenderly, They lived in :New England,
where Thanksgiving Day is one in which it
would be almost heathenish not to attend
church and render thanks. So, although
the day broke cold and threatening and the
snow lay deep upon the ground, the old
saligh, filled with furs and blankets, and the
faithful horse, were brought out to convey
the family, -even to the old grandma, to
church.
The little girl and her younger sister went
too, but during the service they crept over to
the back of the church to get near the fire,
and over there where the minister's voice
sounded indistincL and far away, they forgot
thev inm st not whisper, and hence began to
talk about their Thanksgiving dinner that
Nvwa coming. and what wonderful things
grandma hli IhIen preparing in the way of
pis and cooks.
She ni. Ibe very tired fionm so Imuch
wor k," sa Id 1 l .i-1, i the older.
Ye,, pmr I aindlm !" replied the little

*I'll te. l y.i,. what we'll do to surprise
,i'r s:-i [: ; T ,' hicr i'::'e lig/ilinig up glee-
f ilv- wilh a ;-1 ibtoug,.;it; "- we'll MCt le old
W' A dn I a h' nd gmo tie i.i'c eI a
i ii', .. ... till oullrp :i-.f l o il i d




1I w n ,d all s )nl.
I : 't of in sn hq d a Ig



1 ,b Hw" y: sv n slark-


plurncd to 1 Wntry sky tilled wiih white
g,; pckn slowIl fal for as the eye co,'ld see
Sito the Muloui' dome above. 'IThey had great
port '. to catch the light flakes on thei-


warm, rosy lips, and letting it slowly melt.
But when they tired of that sort of play
lthev founl that old Jack had lost the road
amid had wandered into a shady forest alto-
gether unlike the tree-lined road that led to
their home. There was vain striving tofind
their way back, bhut they became confused in
another sleigh-track and finally gave up in
despair. Vainly they had endeavored to find
their road back, when, as the afternoon was
wearing away, worn out and drowsy with the
cold they curled up in the furs in the bot-
tomn of the sleigh and went to sleep.
It was grandma who missed them before
church was over, and going out found, to her
consternation, that-the sleigh was gone.
Old and feeble though she was, she did
not disturb the church service, but bravely
started out to track the fugitives through
the snow. It is useless to try to describe the
faithful love that bore the hardships which
she went through for her darlings that day.
But after long following at last she found
them, and without waking.them drove home
where the anxious ones were preparing to
make great search for the lost ones grand-
ma and all.
1 was not informed, but I will venture to
say that the Thanksgiving dinner was a very
happy one, and ,i..... .1 in utter forgetful-
ness of the past troubles of the day. Iow
could it fail to be when such gentle self-sac-
i. i;.,_ love bound together the hearts of
those at home?

TACT.
rppA'CT is it~o life of the five senses. It is
ihe o ,<]"'ii ',, tlie (quick ear, the j d i; n. '
i.W;o i c e i. r iiill and the lively touch.
T'IA i: is cp i-er. Tact is skill; talent is weight,
,i is ,imi' 1tum; taleni, knows what to do,
IN:,:( hw c do it: talent is wealth, tact is



ANYTHING FOR QUIET.
I1 AW'IER ioula i hoe and found his boy
P Filling all tile house with riot,
MIn. ni, madly on hi& drum,
i' 'It h ie h l ni~ :er ill hi room
Sat serenely, unmoved by it.
M" Viadnt." si"d Owi iral( sire,
1 wuili stop this nis--ortry it."
No. voIn wouldn't," answered she;
\\Ver you v.,xd all (lay like me,
You'd do anc ay/hiifr quiet,"












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ANYTHING FOH QUIET.


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,GOOD ADVICE.
ITEN the weather is wet,
We must not fret;
When the weather is dry,
We mllllunt t cry;
When the weather is cold,
We must not scold;
When the weather is warm,
We must not Mrorli,
But be thankful together
Whatever the weather.


THE SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS.
LYON F. TOLSTOI.
A TIERMIT lived in the forest, and feared
not the wild beasts. The hermit and
these beasts talked t...-lhi'.r and understood
each other.
One day the hermit was lying under a tree,
and near him, to spend the night, there liad
come a raven, a pigeon, a stag and a serpent.
These animals began to discuss the origin of
evil in the world.
The raven said:
"Evil comes from hunger. When thou
hast eaten enough, and- art perched upon a
tree, cawing, everything seems bright, good,
joyous; but only fast two whole days, and
thou last no more heart for nature-tthou
rt. agitated, thou canst not stay in ne pla-e,
t lhoi hast not a nlmomentt of repose; if a bit is
found, that is still worse-thou clashest at
it, itthout thought. It is in vain to strike,
thee with a stick, or to throw-stones at tlie;
dogs or wolves may snap at thee in vain-
thou wilt not leave it. How many among us
has hunger killed thus! All evil comes fromt
hunger."
The pigeon said:
"It does not seem to me that hunger is
the cause of evil: all evil comes from
love. If we lived each for and by ourselves.
wi should not sufter so much-at least we
should suffer alone; while since we live
always in couples, and thou lovest thy com-
paniion so much, thou hlst no rest, thy
thou ghts are only for her: Has she eaten?
Is sihe warm enough? And if she tlics away
for awhile, then one is wretched indeed,
haunted, by the fear that she has been car-
ried off by a hawk or snared by men. And
thou beginnest to search for her, and thou
failest thyself into trouble, it may be into
the claws of a hawk or the meshes of a net.
And if thy companion is indeed lost, then
thou cast neither eat nor drink: thou canst


only search for her and weep. How many of
us have died thus! All evil comes not from
hunger but from love."
The serpent said:
"No; evil comes neither from hunger nor
from love, but from malice. If we lived
quietly, if we did not pick quarrels, all would
go well; while, if anything is done contrary
to thy will, thou art angry, everything offends
thee, all that thou thinkest of is to pour out
thy rage against some one; and then, as if
mad, thou hissest and twistest and seekest to
bite some one. And thou hast pity on none.
Thou wouldst bite father or mother, thou
wouldst tear thyself even, and thy fury ends
by destroying thee. All evil comes front
malice."
The deer said:
"No; it is neither malice, nor love, nor
hunger that causes evil; it is fear. If
one need not be afraid, all would be well.
Our feet are light for the race, and we are
strong. Froma small animal we can defend
ourselves with our antlers; a large one we can
fly froni; but that does not save us from fear.
If a branch cracks in the forest, if a leaf
rustles, thou tremblst suddenly wil h fright,
iihy heart begins to beat as if it would burst
from. thy bosom, and thou flyest like an
arrow. Another lime it is ;a lhare that passes,
: bird that moves its wings. or a limb that
falis; thou inmiginest thyself pursued by a
savage beast, and it is toward the danger that
lhou runnest. Somiitimnes, to avoid a I.
thno fallest upon the hunter; some imes,
seized with fear, tliou i *.. i. thou knowest not
whither; thou nmakiest a 'lap, it is over a prec-
ipice wherethou finest tlhy death. Sleeping
wilh one eye always open, always on the
alert, always terrified, there is no peace. All
evil comes from fear."
Then the hernlit said:
"Our unhappiness comes neither from
nunrrer, nor from love. nor from malice, nor
from fear.. It is from our own nature that
evil comes, for it is that which causes hunger,
love, malice and fear."


THIS DOG OF MINE IS KIND AND TR U
riIIIS dog of mine is kind and true,
L His honest eyes with friendship shine;
A better dog you never knew,
Believe me, than this dog of mine.
My will to him is more than law-
lie is my subject, I his king;
At my command he'll shake a paw,
Fetch, carry, beg, do anything.
























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DTI1 )(G oF I IINI. fS hlNI AND 'IPHUE."


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The Puzzled Centsus-Takcer

JOHN G. SAXE.
'ein "-pronounced "nie "-1stheGermanfor "? o.
Got any boys?" the marshal said
To i vlad from over tho Ihinc;
And lhe l;idy shoolk lir tlaxni head,
And civilly answered "M cin !"
Goit nny girls?" the mnarsl11l said
To tihat lady i'rumi ov'r the Rhine;
Anl, .s iu tl i I. .. ,1,

"* ~.,,t "nr" 'ro rlnrl f the marshal said
I I,1. I ..1, ,over tlhe Rhine;
And again tlie lady shook her head,
And civilly answered "ncino!"
Husband, of course?" the marshal said
'o tlh l iv I1roii ove thcI I tlhine;
Ai. I .... he shiok her l axon head,
., .L iii ains'erCed l" ticG!"

'Tlie dnle youl liave !" the marshal said
To tlih llad froil o\r the liPinlo;
A i 1 ,_,;, ', ,. I I ,rillaxe head,
SI I ..o .I I I I I .. i" l i "

"Now, what do you mean h- "hiil:in" your head
AndI always Insltweriing '
Tcl iif t l lil. fli' I r .'li.'lh," civilly said
Tho lady from over the Rhine.


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GO TO THE WOODS AND HILLS.

















































"B GOLDEN CURLS AND A HEART
OF GOLD.
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-I met one day not long ago
e- A dear little maid whose me you ; now,
T She'd a ruby mouth, two sapphile eyes,
A nice enough nose for a girl of hersize;
lr- / O *But oh her curls.!
That sweetest of girls
Had a heud of adorable golden curlst
oThe cunningest quirls-
SI fell inl love with those golden oi rs!
But I afterwards found, to my glad surprise,
That neither those curls, nor the nose, nor the
ZWere of this little maiden the very beat part,
/~Z : ^ if CFor she had what was better-a oldn hrt
Z I --Heart of gold-
^ -Foryounganud for oll--
S -"* Golden ourls and a golden oart I









(77Th -


A MOTHER'S DIARY.
Si ..... I.,by on thl: iluur,
SI ... -, the fender;
bttnii,'nit seems to make it sneeze;
lHal hy on a "1 ender!"
All the spools upset and gone,
Chairs dIrawn into file,
lIaIrness strings atll strung across,
Ouhitl to make one smile.
Apron clean, curls smooth, eyes blue;
willow tlhse charms will dwindle!)
For I rather think don't you -
liaby is a swindle ?"
Noon A tangled silken floss
Getting in blue eyes;
Aprons never will keep clean
I f a baby tries!
One blue shoe untied, and one
Ln'llerneath thli table;
Clairs gone nlmad, and blocks and toys
Well as they are able.
Baby inl aI high-chair, too,
Waiting for his dinner,
Spoon in mouth ; I think-don't you-
Btaby is a silnnr ? "
Niilht! Chairs all set back again,
llkcls anld spools in order;
Onile blu shoe beneath a niat
'l'llIs ot a marauder;
'Apron f lill on lthe chair,
Ihaiid drs,e, torn and wrinkled ;
Two pink teot kicked partly bare,
itl tle lat knees erinklc[d;
In hi, cribl, and c)quilllered, too,
1y sle')p, litavelti's best evangel.
Now I surely ihiin -don't you-
Baby is an angel ? "


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AVENGED!
rpII El{1 is a look of intense satisfaction in lli ee eyeof T.,)p(sy she leIaps over the fence with Liz-
Sbth's I Aw dtill in her tioiuth. A'aiu ind ad gain Topys's precious little puppies have been
taken awayv iand drowned. And now her time of . has come Lizbeth's lrn'iid-l.ew dill
is mauk:ing lquitle a setnslation in the fan-ifly. E veItry )od y lrai-ies its hictllyi aind tihe splrendor of its
clothes. Now is Topsv's time And she has- seized the inw favoriteL a nd is over the fence, while
Lizbcth comes screamiing after. In a few minutes Topsy w'iM have torn and dissected tllii very
beautiful toll, and then she will be avenged.


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A MONKEY SUSPENSION BRIDGE.
r'.'. u'AuN l :m. ,
'-rpHPIY are coning toward the bridge;
I t the will most likel iy ers bIy iit rocks
wonder observed liol.





Yon wil a- in l nni ty 0wi
U. i oI"ic i as e the .Frotchm

"iti 'l iil'r' tf it, t ii'r t ouli gl' flIt


:an w rt i,. I 'tln t anot ie Ip o I e it
ti'esen io i i ;. i i k Y apit p ared o (i tli

t oo at liiolred i'i ofn nii' i: t slater. One,ti t -
.l' aide-10-cl or c hie! pioneer, p rh1{aps,
ouir "Po; a iii' g rolk. and afMer


m ih o rni.nilc l,'iiih eti d!; leader. This pro-
'tiictl a n rc i ei! ti, i n it rtle troi ps. lilAlea' i-
mi .ai d 1 heI f tflul 'tlt n1 ni)0 ('en 5rin eers. not
*ii.iit) r aio i ; nk. exaim inih g the
hse "oi oi. t th glon .d At l .n ),
anil n qx tid il nn e a .iell i 01 lnmo' pltho.
ha:'"T' 2 iw, ov-'r t'hei err t. a! rt iof these
:eranm. qn!d twxioy or thirty oif itdier seam-
iwered upL its i;'l'rk. In re. liTing a hligh
m gi'nt tiie orti. r a stoiig fellow, ran ourl
non ; limt oi l takMintg several idns oft his
mnil roua it. slipped oilf a hunmithg liad
downward The next on the liml. also a.
stout one, climbed down tle body of tihe
first, and whipped ihis tail tightly round the
neek and forearm of tlhe latter, dropped -.17i
in his turn, and hung heao downward. The
third repeated th< iia "iruver upon the see
ond, and the fourth upon thle strig rested
hlis forpaws upon the groltind. The living
chain now commenced 'ii. ii backward
and forward like a pendulum of a ill ock.
Thlme option was slight at first, but gradually
increased, the lower monkey striking his
hands violently on t-e earth as he passed
tangent of the oscillating curve. Several
others upon tie limbs above aidedl the move-
ment. L'o continued d ill the monkey at
rthe and of thle chnin was thrown among tlhe
branches of a tree on he opposite bank.
Here, arter two or three vibrations, he
clutched a limb awl hold fast. '.his move-
inent was executed iroitly, just at t he cubn-
mlination l ', of leoo scillation,l in order ilto
save Whe inlrl .liate links from too sloudden
a jeirk. The chain was now fast at bor h
ondls, forming r. conpi'"le sui pension ..i .L


over which the whole troop, to the number
of four or five hundred, passed, it was a
comical sight to witness the quizzical expres-
sion of eountenancoes ailing the living chain.
After the troops hld passed, one monkey
attbllhel his tail to the lowest end of the
bridge, another girded hli in the sitmo man-
ner, and ano'thlr, until a dozen o or mor
were added to the string. These ist er',
powerful fellows. andi rtiiinnln, up a hi g'



Ltl e.nl tht all was re:l. ini li te who1
c(liiI ws swiiny g ove' and inded o aflv on
tle opi sito, ie tnl t. T' io w c i lih ik i :w
dropi'd of lik Ie a meilit ca ndle, wllt lh;
ligi r onus leiii l to ihe theind mits tand ci a
dovi bit i lh iw l k. The whool i'IItro lhite
seai p)ered off inio tio li appai'al and dtii l
UaIpeared,

THE BRAVEST OF BATTLES.

rp ll] brtveo hal t, ilt;!l.tV r Wns nlii:
1. Shall I tl you whNliT amid wi .
On lu nii]Is of the w'orll Y, i find it i,.;
'warS fol' light h, u, l irers of m hn.
'N a not withl.i i o 1 i- il(tt sliot.,
N y, not wilh chlufjit lt Iv rld orI llihoit h li
hF)own mouti of wonderful mine,
But sleep ina wna lid-up \VO)II!aI's ]lirt-
A woimanin i lhal woulil Inol iclt i-
Bil bravely Kilhnl "l l ir, a'r p -ll-
Lo! tlerc is tiatl haittleiclhl.
No ii:;. troii lno hivon ac soni',
No ibannr io 'lean and wave!
But, oh, ilese l)itt(les! they last so long--
Front )ab)yhood to the gravel

PUNCH AND JUDY.
T-NOrCI ANXD JUDY.is one of the oldest
1 forMis of aminscinOent in tlhe world. Rt
is quite wonderful hIow many men have made
large fortunes exhibiting this simple merry
show. This kind of entertainment is very
common at seaside resorts. All kinds of
people young, and ohl seen to delight in
P'liih and Mudy. There is comedy and
St all in one. You so the ,1. t i, nir
at, I.e left handui side of the pictiure-who is
at thle seaside for his vacation is just '.Ji -
a quiet pep. And really l'inch and Judy
well done, is a very enijoyatll p)oforlnanlce,






































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LARRY'S ONLY FRIEND.
L IARY was the gardener at Captain Os-
borne's, and Iei declared he had only
one friend in tlie whole family on whom lhe
could rely, and that was Master Bernard.
lie was ordered here and ordered there, and
as he said in his quaint way, he was nearly
always in hot water." Thle Captain was a
cross man and the ladies of the house never
had patience enough to let at seed grow or i
fl-ower bloon. Thel wanted spring :1... ;
long before the frost had gone and expected
grapes to be ripe and asters to bloom in June.
B:I l arry said lern;'d was a gentleman if
ever there e was one in the world. Bernard
was rea0iV a kiind thl'ug1ltfnil hoy and spoke
Lind words to Larry, whenever lie had an
opportunity And you tmay be sure that,
ernard didn't ofteHn go to school wit hout,
one of Che most beautiful il1 ...' Larry
lc ld :L.d in the 'ardlen.

NIGHTFALL.
S.10IA ALLEN'S WIE.
OFT o'er i e meadow, and murmnuring mere;
alletih a ; lw,, near anl more near;'
!: ikr ii whi,': ,ve iy, ; down the sky;
C 'iinu h tlI' h l iT, lov'.oa, idarkm:s is nigh,
'S) di& the halpitsl day.
i Irk ey( riseil a telar,
i ,, I I L ia'i Su- rrowr,. ii near;
*I .. _' bright, luve. dies on my breast,
wiledove ldies down the West;
th e dippiest day.

JOHNNIE WAITE.
AN U i iLI(T E.
l OTTINIE WAITEl-the boys called himn
F) CoUlan't W\aite," he used those worIds
so ofien-- went iane f ronm school one night
andl ,ax hi weii\ report to his father.
The family were at supper. Mr. i Waite look
the ropcort after he hadl finished his biscuit
am!ti looked at it. There were 'i .. black
marks on i. lie turned to Johlnniie:
'K !, was this inark for iMonday?"
"I i an by Jhil Black ..,.' out in the
line."
C 1 1 ., was tiht for?"
S t couldn't wait for him to go ,1....-'."
said Johnnie, "and.-"
I ,, will do'" said his father, "vand
Wednesday's mark? "
"I upset some ink on my writing-desk."
"And the two on I'l, I n ?"


I wanted to tell Phil something, and I
whispered to him."
Couldn't wait till recess, I suppose,"
said Mr. Waite, stroking his moustache to
hide a smile.
'And I took out my sling shot-" John-
nie's cheeks were growing redder than usual.
"And to-day "
"I ate an apple," and Johnnie's head
dropped.
"Another couldn't wait,'" said his father;
'and you went to school this morning with-
out sweeping the steps, and this afternoon
without giving Ponto his dinner; you didn't
take the note your mother asked you to carry
to Mrs. Bracket, you lipped the baby over in-
stead of goini round himl, and you 1. It -the
front door open and somebody cane in and
took my silk umbrella, am1 ill because you
couldn't wait. Well. you'll- iave to have a,
lesson, young man, that will break uill this
habit of yours."
IMr. \\ aite ate a cookie, played a few min-
utes with the baby, and then went dowi
town.
Johnnie ate four cookies, and then went
into the parlor. (Great-aiint Mary :. ..
sat in the bay window knitting.
Did -on cver heair of your great-great-
uncle Titus Foss?" she asked, peering
through her glasses at J.ohnnie.
Jo nine said '" -No'm." and wondered how
old a great-greatL-uncle could be.
lie couldn't wait." con tinued great-aunt
,,'v. I'll take you over to Ivile soml
dau, amd show ,you tie uni'k i 1n lie door of
the old house e xir he threw t11 st.oxe hlook
at ti t because he could in'l wait for her l.o
step along. That mark's been there fully
fifty years.
"One night Uncle i'.'..- was driving home
from Camnlen, and he came to a bar with &
lantern hanging from it, right across tlih
road. I just before he got to the toll
bridge. 17ncle Titus couldn't wait. li
leaped his horse over tie bar. The tollman
said he ran out to tell him prt of thle bridge
was Ti) ii'or repairs, but Uncle Tituscomildn't
wait. The river was high and he and tihe.
horse were washed down stream and
d rowned."
Orealt-int Mary rattled her knitting'
needles swiftly, anda Johinie. seeing ,hat tlhe
story was done. in tawai to plav.
When he came into the dininig-room the
next morning hlie found breakfast cleared
away and mamnma feeling thle canaries. She




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