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 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Stories, poetry, and pictures for...
 Back Cover






Group Title: American children's annual : : 150 illustrations : stories, poetry, and pictures for boys and girls by the best authors.
Title: American children's annual
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00083801/00001
 Material Information
Title: American children's annual 150 illustrations : stories, poetry, and pictures for boys and girls by the best authors
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : col. ill. ; 25 cm.
Language: English
Creator: W.B. Conkey Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: W.B. Conkey Company
Place of Publication: London ;
New York ;
Chicago
Publication Date: c1895
 Subjects
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1895   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1895   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1895
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
 Notes
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors; illustrations and text printed in blue.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00083801
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002221885
notis - ALG2115
oclc - 231759962

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Frontispiece
        Page 4
    Front Matter
        Page 3
    Title Page
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Stories, poetry, and pictures for boys and girls
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
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    Back Cover
        Page 235
        Page 236
Full Text





















rw as*


IN STORYLAND










I MERIGfN 6IiLDREN'gS






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150


STORIES, P(
FOR BOYS AN


COPYRIC


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ILLUSTRATIONS ^ji-_


ETRY, AND PICTURES
GIRLS BY THE BEST AUTHORS
GHT 1895, BY W. B. CONKEY CO.


. -L.'" LONDON 4 NEW YORK + GO*floGOO
. W. B. CONKEY COMPANY
i PUBLISHERS.


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CAMP TRIO.

A. DE G. H.

Hurrah! Hurrah! only two days
more to vacation, and then!-
If the crowning whistle, and ener-
getic bangg with which the strapped
books came down, were any indication
of what was coming after the "then!"
it must be something unusual. An1 so
it was-for Ned, Tom and Con, who
were the greatest of chums, as well as
the noisiest, merriest boys in Curry-
ville Academy-were to go into camp
for the next two weeks, by way of
spending part of their vacation. They
could .ii ,,.ll- wait for school to close,
and over the pages of Greenleaf danced,
those last two days, unknown quanti-
ties of fishing tackle, tents, and the
regular regalia of a camping out-fit.
They talked of it by day and dreamed
of it by night.
At last the great day dawned--
dawned upon three of the most gro-
tesque-looking specimens of boyhood,
arrayed in the oldest and worst fit-
ting clothes they could find; for, as
they said, in the most expressive boy
language-" We are in for a rattling'
good time, and don't want to be togged
out. They and their effects were taken
by wagon over to the Lake Shore, about
four miles distant, to establish their
camp under the shadow of old Rumble
Sides, a lofty crag or boulder.
Boys, I wish you could have seen
them that night, in their little wood-
land* home; really, it was quite at-
tractive. They worked like beavers all
day-cutting away the brush, driving
stakes to tie down the little white
tent, digging a trench all around in
case of rain, and building a fire-place
of stone, with a tall, forked stick on
which to hang the kettle. A long board,
under the shady trees, served as table.
Too tired to make a fire that night,
they ate a cold lunch, and threw them-
selves on their bed-which was a blan-


ket thrown over pine boughs-untied
the tent flaps to let in air, and slept a
happy, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, early, they were
up, and, after taking a cold plunge in
the lake, built a brisk fire, boiled cof.
fee, and roasted potatoes for breakfast.
They then bailed out the punt, which
was their only sailing craft, and put off
for an all-day s fishing excursion. Sev-
eral days, with fine weather, passed,
and the boys declared they were hav-
ing a royal time, and that camping was
the only life to lead
They had much difficulty to settle
upon a name, but finally decided that
"Camp Trio" was most appropriate.
One night they were suddenly awak-
ened by a deep, roaring sound; the
wind blew fiercely, it rained hard, but
the noise was not of thunder, it seemed
almost human; nearer and nearer it
came! The three lads sat up in the
semi-darkness, and peered at each other
with scared faces.
"It's Old Rumble broke loose and
coming down on us," said Con, in a
ghostly whisper. "Hush!" and the
trio clutched in a cold shiver, as a
crackling of twigs was heard outside,
a heavy tread, a long, low moan, a hor-
rible silence.
"It was the Leviathan, I guess," said
Tom, with a ghastly attempt at smil-
ing, as the early morning light stole
through the flaps. At length they
moved their stiffened limbs and peeped
out. Oh, how it did pour! No fire, no
fishing, no any thing to-day. Pretty
soon a shout from Ned, who had been
cautiously prowling around to find the
cause of their late fright.
"Oh, boys, it's too rich! Why, it was
Potter's old cow, down here last night,
bawling for her calf that was after our
towels, as usual-look here!" and he
held up three or four dingy, chewed-
looking articles, which had hung on a
tree to dry, and might have been tow-
els once. The boys broke into a hearty
laugh at their own expense. The day
was very long and dull, and the next,

































































A MIDNIGHT ATTACK.










stories and jokes fell flat, cold victuals
didn't relish, they began to feel quite
blue. The third day Farmer Potter
appeared upbn the scene.
"What on airth ye doing' here; tres-
passin' on other folks'grounds ? Mebby
ye don't know it's agin the law!"
The boys. felt a trifle uneasy, but an-
swered him politely.
"Hevin' fun, be.ye! Wall, I'll vow,
setting' in the wet, eating' cold rations,
haint my idee of fun." And away he
stalked.
The boys looked at each other.
"'I say, fellers," said Con, "a piece of
pie and a hunk of fresh bread wouldn't
go bad-eh ?"
The two answered with a hungry
look.
"But let's tough it out over Sunday,
or they'll all laugh at us." And so they
id ; but it was the longest, dreariest
Sabbath they ever spent.
"I'd rather learn ten chapters in
Chronicles," Tom affirmed, "than put
in another such a Sunday."
They had, in the main, a jolly time,
but the ending was not as brilliant as
they had looked for. They never re-
gretted :-.*i,.-, but the next year took
a larger party, and went for a shorter
time.



THE SENTIMENTAL FOX.

"Oh, beautiful wild duck, it pains me
to see,
You flying aloft in that gone sort of
way,
Sweet one, fare you well. I could shed
many tears,
But my deepest emotions I never
betray,

"I've always admired you, wonderful
bird,
By the light of the sun and the rays
of the moon;


I tell you 'tis more than a fox can en-
dure,
STo know that you take your depart-
ure so soon.

"I snatched a few feathers, in memory
of you;
I desired a whole wing, but you baf-
fled my plan;
Oh, what a memento to hang in my den!
And in very hot weather to use as a
fan.

"Descend, O, thou beautiful creature,
to earth !
There's nothing I would not perform
for your sake;
If once in awhile I could see you down
here,
I'd never get tired of the shores of
this lake "

"Cheer up, Mr. Fox," said the duck,
flying higher,
"The parting of such friends is some-
times a boon;
When they get far away, and have
tim e to ii '.-i i,
They see that it came not a moment
too soon.

"You wanted a wild wing to fan your-
self with;
You see if I granted that favor to
you,
'Twould have left me but one, which is
hardly enough,
As I find it convenient, just now, to
have two."

Then she faded away, a dark speck on
the sky.
"That's a very shrewd bird," said
the fox in dismay !
"I shall have to look round for my din-
ner, again,
And I fancy it will not be wild duck
to-day."



























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APPA'S PETS,


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THE 8WEET-ORASS IMOUSE.

MRS. S. J. BRIGHAM.


Two little mice went out one day
Among the scented clover;
They wandered up and down the lane,
They-roamed the meadow over.
' Oh, deary me said Mrs. Mouse,
I wish I had a little house !"



Said Mr. Mouse,-" I know a place
Where nice sweet grass is growing;
Where corn-flowers blue, and buttercups
And poppies red, are blowing."
SOh, deary me !" said Ir-. Mouse,
We'll build us there a house."



So, of some sweet and tender grass
They built their house together;
And had a happy time, through all
The pleasant summer weather.
" Oh, deary me !" said Mrs. Mouse,
Who ever had so nice a house ?"








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'OUR XMAS CLUB.,






































CL R. A.ND
T L *
.A\NIM' [.\L [ l.


Clara was a little western girl. She
had lived in San Francisco until she
was nine years old, when her dear
mamma and papa brought her east to
live with Aunt Mary and Cousin Char-
lie, and they were growing very fond of
her indeed, for she was so sweet and
kind and always obedient.
One day she was sitting out under the
blossoming trees on the old Worden
seat, her book lying, unread, in her lap,
and her eyes having a dreamy, far-
away look in them, when, from the
balcony overhead, sounded a piping
little voice:


._I, Al, T ,...i. ;, C i IA; i ..,- dot
^, _-". ri i ].,,l "' "d1. :. ,'i''[ r -. l, rosy-
>:i.I ." !n' I i r b -
Vr I' 1 i. inished
,'..it r n ;[. ,, ... ,, ,r,,- ,- ,i y ou r
r i I I.:. .i ..l i: i i ll I read
:'1,, .. .... r i l ,: ,. ,: !-, .: i. l ,1 1 reat

I .L _1 .-. .:. ., .. ...l I, '. o u ld
hear all he wished. So she read a short
sketch of the deer, its haunts and habits,
when he interrupted:
"I as oo ever seen a deer-a real live
one ?" and his black eyes opened wide.
"Oh, yes; and when we were com-
ing east, across the plains, whenever
the train drew near a wooded stream,
often the screaming whistle would star-
tle a herd of deer from their covert,
and they would rush up through the
trees, antlers erect, and sleek brown
bodies quivering with alarm, and fol-
lowed by the soft-eyed, gentle fawn.
It was quite a pretty picture.
"Tell me more; what tind of a city
did oo live in?"





CLARA AND


a;









"A very beautiful city, Charlie. You
should see our noble bay, with the
great ships riding at anchor; our fine
parks and stately buildings. Then if
you should go down in Market street,
where most of the business is done,
you would see some funny sights. All
kinds of people are there-Ranchmen,
Indians, Spaniards, English, Ameri-
cans and lots of queer little Chinamen,
and they have small, dark shops full of
curious things, and besides spread their
wares on the walk.
After telling about the orange groves
and vineyards, the lovely flowers, es-
pecially the fuchsia, which winds its
branches like a vine over the porches,
often reaching the upper story of a
house, Charlie thought it must be a
wonderful country, and expressed his
intention of living in California when
he became a man.



--In a Chinese village during a time of
drought a missionary saw a row of 'dols
put in the hottest and dustiest par: of
the road. He inquired the reason and
the natives answered: "We prayed
our gods to send us rain, and they wont,
so we've put them out to see how they
like the heat and dryness." "




THE UNSOCIABLE DUCKS.

Three meadow birds went out in great
glee,
All in the sunshiny weather;
Down by the pond, with the reeds
waving free,
Where the ducks were all standing
together.


"Good day Mrs. Duck," said the three
meadow birds,
"From all the news we can gather,
You're a very good friend, of very few
words."
Then one flew away with a feather.



"Quack!" said the duck, "That
feather is mine,
I see through your ways altogether;
You want our feathers, your own nests
to line,
All in the bright summer weather.'



What shall we use?" Said the three
meadow birds,
"There's no good in moss or in
heather."
"We don't care a straw," said the old
blue drake,
If you line all your nests with sole
leather."



"Quack! Quack! Quack You must
think we are slack !
You talk too polite altogether;
We've had quite enough of 'your high-
flown stuff,
And we know, you are birds of a
feather.


















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SOMEWHERE IN LEAFY FORESTS
THE WILD DEER ROAM AND SLEEP.


























IX>. T H E
\V ()( 1) S5.


l, n i, I ,: t


J L[iiL MIpi g tl oLUd altci
their mothers.
The bees seemed to be making a
good deal of fun for themselves, if
stinging us children amused them, and
buzzing into every pretty, bright flower,
so that no one could pick it with safety.
The crows, too, collected in great
gossiping parties, in the pines, over on
the shore of the pond, and they always
seemed to be congratulating themselves
over something immensely satisfactory.
But we children, especially the girls,-
found it very dull after we had seen
the few sights of the farm. The boys
were trying to hunt and fish; but Lib
and I talked that over, and we came to
the conclu:on,, after much laughing
and many caustic remarks, that the
only amusement we had was, laughing
at their failures.
We communicated that fact to them,
but it didn't seem to make any differ-
ence; off they went on the same fruit-
less hunt, and left us to do what we
might, to make ourselves happy.


TI!: !.,-.t .I.c, Lib and Dora and I
t...,l rh.r_. ,. _..uld go into the woods
.. rhl t!i'- .- I -r .. e what the charm was.
I.i .- I !,- I .li.:st of us three, and had
A.-.'i : r.- I ..... and she said:
i... I... ;hall find the robbers'
C:-...,.1l it .. say, 'Open Sesame,'
rl r.i. t : t...-'. .oors will slowly swing
"r":',. .i.l -.,..- c:an go in where the
i. i'i i..f rl. -hlig- gems and the heaps

'* If tIni ..I 11! get into places where
youLL Lctant get out; 'open sesame' will
never lift you out of a marsh hole,"
said V\ Ii! Pitt Gaylord, our eldest
brother.
"Mollie, you can find somebody to
have a talking match with, for there are
lots of chipmunks over in the grove,"
remarked Hugh.
"I've seen snakes in that very woods,
too," and if you'd holler, Lib, at that
end of the pond, as you do at this end
of the tea-table, you wouldn't catch
any fish," said William. This caused
an uproarious laugh on the part of the
boys.
We listened quietly to their .sarcastic
remarks, knowing they were prompted
by an unreasonable desire to monopo-
lize the delights of the woods to them-
selves.
William Pitt remarked that "Girls
had no business to meddle with boys
sports, and they'd come to grief if they
did; you'd see !"
Next morning the August haze lay
soft on the landscape, but in a short

















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GOOD NIGHT.


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time it went off, and Father, learning
that we girls were going to spend a
part of the day in the woods, quietly
told the boys that they must escort us
to the pleasantest place, and not wan-
der very far off. They pouted consid-
erably, and had a talk at the corner of
the barn; they then came back, smiling,
and apparently good-natured.
S)ur brothers did not intend to be
.ii: kind, but they had the common fail-
ii). of humanity-selfishness. But Lib
nm-tched them in a dozen ways with her


A I x.--


- -


'....d-humored retaliations; and many a
tilt she had with William Pitt since we
i i.-l arrived at the farm. In the city she
%..is abreast of him in all his studies;
:i..l I noticed that Lib could get out
Ihr Latin, and write a composition
much faster than he, and often he had
i,'-en obliged to come to her for aid.
It nettled Lib not to be able to hunt
:n.-l fish: We two younger ones mod-
ekd after her; she was the leader, and
w.lien she said we would go with the
boys, we went.


"Hello Fred," said Hugh, as a
neighboring boy, a city boarder, came
through the gate, attired in base-ball
cap and knickerbockers, "we can't go to
Duck Inlet to-day. Father says the
girls must have a good time, too, and
that we must devote one day to them,
at least."
"All right," said Fred, "can I go
with you? I'll go and get my butterfly
net, and we can go over to Fern-Iol-
low mill, the winter-greens and berries
are as thick there! Gracious! you can
get a quart pail full in no time.
The mill-wheel is a beautiful
sight," said Fred, turning'to
S Lib, "and you can sketch it,
SMiss Gaylord."
Lib looked upon Fred with
a little more toleration, after
he had said "Miss Gaylord,"
and went and ordered an
additional ration to be put
into the lunch basket. We
were glad to have Fred along
with us, for he was very fun-
S ny, and made jokes on every
thing.
Lib would allow no one to
carry the lunch basket but
herself, as she remarked, "It
is safer with me."
We started, and were tempt-
ed to loiter at all- the little
nooks on the leaf-shadowed
road, and investigate the
haunts of the curious dwel-
lers in the rocks and bush-
es, and especially were we
interested in the ducks on Fern Hol-
low creek. Dora insisted upon feed-
ing them a piece of bread. "Calamity,"
the dog, was along, of course, and as
he belonged to William Pitt, who called
him "Clam," he was always in that
boy's company. It was, "Love me,
love my dog," with William; and as
he was a professional of some kind, he
was greatly prized by the boys.
We reached the woods and the old
mill early; I think I never was in a
more delightful place. Every thing


































































MEDITATION.









seemed to grow here. Winter-greens,
with their crimson berries, shining in
the moss, and blueberries, where the
sun came; tall, white flowers that grew
in clusters in the shade, sent their per-
fume all about. Back of the mill, on
some sandy ledges, grew pennyroyal
and spearmint;

bla c kb-n t r i
T- hie .. .


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had inclosed the space so com-
pletely, that Lib, who had thought-
fully broughtt along a scissors to
cut off stubborn plants, could make
two windows in the green wall; one
looking into the woods, the other off
at the distant pond. The grass was
fine in here, and the sunbeams
dropped down in little round spots,
on the pine needles that covered the
floor.
B2


"This is certainly the fairies' dining
hall," said Lib.
"I'll tell you what, said I, "this is
not far from home, and we can bring
things, and have a little parlor here. I
can make a couple of curtains out of
that figured scrim, for windows, and
that old square rug in the car-
i i.t,e-house will do for the floor.
\Y:iu can bring your rocking-
clair, Lib, and Dora can bring
iher tea-set.
I'll bring our Christmas and
Ea-ter cards, and we can fasten
i- 11 -, rn all about, on the walls," said
Lii., who had fallen in immedi-
Sat.il iy with the plan.
I'll bring Mrs. Snobley, and
all hier children, and the dining
table," said Dora.
She had reference to her large
doll, and a whole dozen of little
i' ons, that were always brought
rt. Iarward in any play that Dora
1i taken a fancy to.
\Ve were in such haste to
p'_it our scheme- into operation,
S 1- tli we dispatched the lunch
in short order, and told the
SI:'., s of our plan. They thought
;' it \:as capital. Any thing that
-ij ,lld release them, after they
.. l 1 eaten all that was to be had,
.' ,-i.dld, of course, be received
i itl acclamation. They ac-
I.: n-:,wledged the same, in a very
TiC: i:t speech, which Lib said,
"d .1 very good for Hugh:"
She fell in immediately with
Sur ftun, and helped us to a num-
becr of nice things, to furnish
our greenwood bower. We
worked tremendously that after-
noon, and after Betty had washed
the dinner dishes, she helped us. Be-
fore sun-down every thing was complete.
The boys, who had taken themselves a
mile away, to hunt, came round to visit
us on their way home. They agreed
that it was just perfect, and inquired if
we hadn't put in an elevator, to reach
the second story, with numerous other



































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inquiries, intended to be funny; and
then asked where we kept our cran-
berry tarts.
"We're not going to allow any boys
in this play-house after to-day," said -I;
your feet are muddy, and you're so big,
you fill it all up."
Our visitor, Fred, looked at his feet,
and blushed. "Not after to-day ? How
are you going to keep any one out?"
inquired William Pitt.
"We will draw this portiere across
the door-way, and no gezntleman would
think of entering," said Lib.
"No, they wouldn't, sure enough,"
said Hugh. "How are you going to
prevent our looking in the windows?"
"Only rude boys would look in win-
dows," said Fred, and I don't know
of any hereabouts."
They laughed at this, and Lib laughed
too, and made the sly remark, that
"Hunting on the duck-pond trans-
formed some people mighty soon."
Fred said he'd try to be on his good
behavior if we'd let him make a formal
call on us the next afternoon. We
consented to this ; then they all said
they'd call.
The next day we busied ourselves in
preparing a spread of good things for
our reception, and Betty took it over,
and on returning, said every thing was
just as we had left it. We dressed
ourselves up in our best, to receive the
gentlemen, a little time after dinner.
The woods were never so lovely, we
thought, and to add to our personal
charms, we made wreaths and garlands
of ferns and wild-flowers to'adorn our
persons and hats.
I had sauntered along considerably
in advance, and as I approached the
bower I was not a little surprised to
see from a distance that the door-cur-
tain was drawn half open. I stopped
to listen, but there was no sound, only
a wild bird piping its three little notes,
down by the mill. I cautiously went
up, and peeped into the little window,
and there stood a man on the rug He
seemed to be looking about. I think I


never was so frightened. I ran back,
and whispered to the rest the dreadful
state of things. They looked horror-
stricken. Lib changed color, but just
stood still. Then she said,-" There's
plenty of help over at the mill."
"Oh, let us go no nearer, but get
home as fast as we can," I said.
Lib raised her hand in warning for us
to keep still, and we crept along, softly,
behind the bower; and when we had got-
ten so far, we all turned around and ran
for dear life into the woods again.
"This is nonsense," said Lib. "You
were mistaken, Molly, I'm sure."
I said I'd go back with her, and she
could see for herself. We crept to the
back of the bower, and Lib leaned over
and looked in. Lib turned pale, caught
hold of my hand and Dora s, and ran
quite a distance toward the mill.
Then she stopped, and said, as true as
she was alive, there was a man in there;
he stood with a large stick resting on
his shoulder, upon which was slung a
bundle, tied up in a red handkerchief,
his clothing was ragged, and his hat
was very dilapidated.
"Oh, Lib, I'm going to run for it,"
said I.
Wait a minute," said she. I don't
hear any noise. Let's think; if we
didn't have to go right in front of the
door, we could get to the mill."
All this time we v ere edging our-
selves as far away frcm the dangerous
precincts as we conveniently could.
She stood again, perfectly still. "I
wont go another step," she said. That
moment's reflection had re-instated her
courage. He don't come out; I should
say that was making an informal call
when the ladies were out. He's a
beautiful-looking specimen anyway,"
said Lib, with fine irony; and as she
said this, she frowned, and put her
head back.
No sound was heard, and no demon-
strations from the interloper were made.
The sight of the mill-wagon, goinp
slowly down the road, gave us heart,
and Lib said:




































66
A CONL-R INT--"ARDE




'ji
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t= _-



A CORNER IN THE GARDEN.









I'll go and order him out, be the
consequences what they may. Mollie,
you're good at screaming, you can
ring the miller here if we have to get
help."
Don't! Don't I would rather he
stole all our things; let him have the
tarts and the cocoanut cake, and the
jam, and the pickles, and the cheese,
and the sandwiches! Let him have
them in welcome! I'm going to fly
home!"
"I want Mrs. Snobley!" sobbed
Dora.
Lib never said another word. She
walked up to the entrance, and pulled
aside the curtain, and there stood the
semblance of a man. In his extended
hand was a card; on which was very
badly printed:


"I'm a Poor b'y,-I want a
home. "
"References exchanged."
"1'll scrape the nild off mc
boots, if ye'll let le in."


Lib called, Come here, Mollie, it's
a trick of those boys."
We went in, and there we found the
interloper to be a scarecrow from a
neighboring field, ingeniously arranged
so as to appear very human.
At that moment, a loud laugh above
our heads betrayed the presence of the
boys in the trees, who clambered down
with hilarious expedition, and fairly
i.II.-. themselves upon the ground
with delight. They had seen all our
perturbation ; had heard my cowardly
cries and expressions; Lib's looking in
the window, and her fearful hesitation
and scamper behind the fairy bower!
The best thing to do was to laugh, and
that we did right heartily; we girls, were
internally thankful that the intruder was
only a scarecrow after all.
We ordered the boys take their silly


joke out, and to come in like gentle-
men, and make a formal call, and
probably they would be invited to take
some refreshments.
This news caused them to work with
great alacrity. They were dressed up
too; Fred having chosen to wear his
school uniform, with a gorgeous crim-
son sash and his sword.
We were never so delighted with
any thing as with that afternoon's ad-
venture. For hours we chatted and
laughed, and ate our refreshments,
until the western light began to take
on a ruddy hue, and we closed our little
bower and proceeded homeward.
What was our surprise, when we
reached there, to find that three young
friends from the city with their servant
had come to visit us. Merryvale was
not dull after that, I can assure you.


THE 'NEW SERVANT AT MERRYVALE-




















5J


'1-..


ON THE CANAL.
















\ OLIVE A. WADSWORTH.
Joey was a country boy,
Father's help and mother's joy;
In the morning he rose early,-
That's what made his hair so curly;
Early went to bed at night,-
That's what made his eyes so bright;
Ruddy as a red-cheeked apple;
Playful as his pony, Dapple;
Even the nature of the rose
Wasn't quite as sweet as Joe's,


h.'. "2!,|C; Charley was a city boy,
..iA l"."r Father's pet and mother's joy;
-- Always lay in bed till late;
S ','-- That's what made his hair so straight,
Late he sat up every night,-
I. r' s what made his cheeks so white;
....-- :Always had whatever he wanted,
He but asked, and mother granted;
Cakes and comfits made him snarly,
.Sweets but soured this poor Charley.

Fi Charley, dressed quite like a beau,
: Went, one day, to visit Joe.
S" Come," said Joey, "let's go walking;
As we wander, we'll be talking;
And, besides,there's something growing
In the garden, worth your knowing."
"Ha !" said Charley, I'm your guest;
Therefore I must have the best.
i ^ All the inner part I choose,
SN And the outer you can use,"

l Joey gave a little laugh;
..'." Let's," said he, "go half and half."

"No, ou don't!" was Charley's answer, On the tree a peach of gold,
"I look out for number one, sir All without, fair, ripe and yellow,
But when they arrived, behold, Fragrant, juicy, tempting, mellow,



































































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THV AU SO








'raE aNGZIS' SONG.














Ana, within, a gnarly stone.
"There," said Joey, "that's your own;
As you choose, by right of guest,
Keep your choice-I'll eat the rest."

Charley looked as black as thunder,
Scarce could keep his temper under.
"'Twas too bad, I think," said Joe;
"Throu h the cornfield let us go,
Something there, perhaps we'll see
That will suit you to a T."
" Yes," said Charles, with accent nip-
ping,
"Twice you will not catch me tripping;
Since I lost the fruit before,
You now owe me ten times more.
Now the outer part I choose,
And the inner you can use."


Joey gave another laugh:
"Better call it half and half."
" No, indeed !" was Charley's answer,
" I look out for number one, sir !
Well 1 know what I'm about,-
For you, what's in; for me what's out!'
On they went, and on a slope
Lay a luscious cantaloupe,
Rich and rare, with all the rays
From the August suns that blaze;
Ouite wit/tin its sweets you find,
And zvit/oul the I I... rind.

Charley gazed in blank despair,
I)ecply vxe 1 and shamed his air.
' Well," said Joey, since you would
Choose the bad and leave the
.. 1] ;
Since you claimed the outer
part,
And disdained the juicy
heart,-
Yours the rind, and mine the rest ;
But as you're my friend and guest,
Charley, man, cheer up and laugh,


I-
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And we'll share it half and half;
Looking out for number one
Doesn't always bring the fun.'


















lit rhii,
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IJUMBO.







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A STUFFED JUMBO.
Yesterday, Alice met the stuffed very much affected by the meeting
Jumbo, her former mate. She walked He was Jumbo's old keeper.-Hu
slowly up to him, and then stood fora few mane Journal.
moments, evidently surveying him
with wonder. Then she swung
her trunk so as to reach Jumbo s
mouth. She also touched his
trunk in a cautious manner, and 'Ur
then turning her back upon him, .'.'' '' .''' --
gave vent to a groan that made .'
the roof of the garden tremble. "r'
William Newman, the elephant
trainer, Frank Hyatt, the super-
intendent, and Toddy Hamil-
ton, talked to her in their usual
winning way, and she again faced
Jumbo. She fondled his trunk,
looked straight into his eyes, and
again she groaned, and then
walked away as though disgusted
with the old partner of her joys
and sorrows. She went back to
her quarters and continued to -
mourn. Her keeper, Scott, was
appealed to by the spectators.
He was asked whether he be-
lieved that she recognized Jumbo,
and he replied in all serious-
ness, "Of course she did. She
told me so." At another time he
said, "I can understand elephant --
talk, and Alice told me she
recognized Jumbo." Scott seemed JU'BO MA-KING II~ISELF USEUL.
+ _4-
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SCENE A AN ELEPHANT MARKET.












































































TUG OF WAR


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A NEGRO MELODIST.


[t has often been remarked that in
the bird world the rule is for the males
to have the brilliant plumage, witn allf


the beautiful
colors and for
the females
to be the
dowdyones-
;- a rule which
would entail
Sa revolution
in fashions,
startling and
ludicrous, if
Sit were to be
Introduced
for variety
among our
'own kind.
Again, gaily.
dressed birds
have the least
pleasing song
-the scream
ing jay bear
ing an unfa
vorable com-
parison with
the thrush-
and the mod-
:-I, n. l I ,t i le having fur-
i. 11. i! .i t brilliant example
.i 1 i ..' i i.. : The nightingale,
I.... ,. i. I. I I, .., the clim ate has
I,_... :.,. ,I*..,I-. i.i1i ..! i I.I:, w e m ust praise
I :,i ._ -.. l : .. r|li -hirtnents rather as
I,,. ,, -, i...-. t .I i. tji. _uished guest, or
I.[.. i r, ..', rhan of an indi-
.. .,it: i;j. .,e have another
I '..h ..i. i. 1. I,-,_ facing w inter's
r.1, i- i- n ti .l. ..1 i.. iimmn er s bloom,
.I J i r il i ivaled ; nocom-
l".i -i,[, iny where near
iiin i i i.:, ,i i. l ess, and liquid
i. 1....1., I ,1 r,- i, the blackbird.
I,; : ...- 1....I!i t seldom spares
InI luL, it at -ll Lntil ,,inter is far ad-
vanced into its New Year months;
and even amid the bitter mornings of
January, his rich, unfaltering notes can
sometimes be heard. His coat is a
glossy black, always cleanly brushed,
and in the case of one family, some-
times called the "Red-wing, with a
gorgeous scarlet lapel on either side.


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UNDER THE TREES.










SHE HAD NEVER SEEN A TREE.


They took the little London girl, from
out the city street,
To where the grass was growing green,
the birds were singing sweet;
And every thing along the road, so filled
her with surprise,
The look of wonder fixed itself, within
her violet eyes.



The breezes ran to welcome her; they
kissed her on each cheek,
And tried in every way they could, their
ecstacy to speak,
Inviting her to romp with them, and
tumbling up her curls,
Expecting she would laugh or scold,
like other little girls.



But she didn't-no she didn't; for this
crippled little child
Had lived within a dingy court, where
sunshine never smiled;
And for weary, weary (lays and months,
the little one had lain
Confined within a narrow room, and on
a couch of pain.



Ihe out-door world was strange to her
-the broad expanse of sky,
The soft, green grass, the pretty flow-
ers, the stream that trickled by;
3ut all at once she saw a sight, that
made her hold her breath,
!ind shake and tremble as if she were
frightened near to death.


Oh, like some horrid monster, of which
the child had dreamed,
With nodding head, and waving arms,
the angry creature seemed;
It threatened her, it mocked at her, with
gestures and grimace
That made her shrink with terror, from
its serpent-like embrace.



They kissed the trembling little one;
they held her in their arms,
And tried in every way they could to
quiet her alarms,
And said, "Oh, what a foolish little girl
you are, to be
So nervous and so terrified, at nothing
but a tree !"



They made her go up close to it, and
put her arms around
The trunk, and see how firmly it was
fastened in the ground;
They told her all about the roots, that
clung down deeper yet,
And spoke of other curious things, she
never would forget.



Oh, I have heard of many, very many
girls and boys
Who have to do without the sight, ot
pretty books and toys-
Who have never seen the ocean; bu.
the saddest thought to me
Is that any where there lives a child
who never saw a tree.
















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CELEBRATING THE FOURTH OF JULY.


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MERRY TRAVELERS.


rP l *

-41





,


fe.








TIME ENOUGH.


Two little rabbits out in the sun;
One gathered food, the other had none.
"Time enough yet," his constant re-
frain ;
"Summer is still just on the wane."



Listen, my child, while I tell you his
fate:
He roused him at last, but he roused
him too late.
Down fell the snow from a pitiless
cloud,
And gave little rabbit a spotless
white shroud.



Two little boys in a school-room were
placed;
One always perfect, the other dis-
graced.
"Time enough yet for my learning,"
he said;
"I will climb by-and-by, from the foot to
the head."



Listen, my darling-their locks are
turned gray;
One, as a governor, sitteth to-day.
The other, a pauper, looks out at the
door
Or the alms-house, and idles his days
as of yore.
B3


Two kinds of people we meet every
day;
One is at work, the other at play,
Living uncared for, dying unknown.--
The busiest hive hath ever a drone.



Tell me, my child, if the rabbits have
taught,
The lesson I longed to impart in your
thought.
Answer me this, and my story is
done,
Which of the two will you be, little
one ?





THE MOUSE WEDDING.


Dick Sly was the smartest mouse in
Mousetown. He knew any kind of a
new trap that was set to catch him, and
he always warned the rest. The houses
in Mousetown are called holes," you
know. Next to the hole where Dick
lived with his parents was the hole
where pretty Nan Spry lived. She
could run faster than any mouse in
Mousetown; even Dick could not
catch her, if she tried to run away
from him. At last it was'told in Mouse-
town that Dick and Nan were to be
married, and every body said, What a
grand pair they'll make." Judge Mouse,
who married them, put on his best
gold spectacles, and they were married
on a big wedding cake, which some
folks call a "cheese." Every one in
Mousetown had a bit of it, and de-
clared it to be the best wedding cake
they had ever eaten.

















































THE LEADER.










A FUNNY HORSE.

Knock! Knock! Knock! I've been
before this block
More than half an hour, I should say;
I am standing in the sun, while Miss
Lucy lingers on,
Talking of the fashions of the day.


It is a trick you know, she taught me
long ago,
But now I am in earnest, not in play;
And the world is very wide, to a horse
that isn't tied,
I've a mind to go and ask the price of
hay

There's a nail in my shot that needs
fixing too,
And I want a drink more than I can
say;
How I could run, with my dandy har-
ness on!
S But it's such a mean thing to run
away.

Rap! Tap! Tap! That's enough to
break a nap-
There she comes, and is laughing at
the way
I brought her to the door, when she
wouldn't come before,
That's a trick worth playing any day.


MRS. GIMSON'S SUMMER
BOARDERS.

It was recess at the school-house at
the cross roads, and three country girls
gathered round a companion, whose
unhappy face showed that something
had gone wrong.
"Is this your last day at school,
Lucindy?" asked Carrie Hess, a girl
of fifteen, and the eldest of the three
sisters.
"Yes, this is my last day, thanks to
the summer boarders. I can't bear to
think of them. I hate them!"
"Will you have to work harder than
you do now ?" asked Freda, who was
next younger to Carrie.
I don't'mind the work so much as I
do their impudent airs, and their
stuck-up ways. I wont be ordered
around, and if Auntie thinks I'm going
to be a black slave, she'll find she's
mistaken."
Lucindy's face flushed, and she ap-
peared to be greatly in earnest.
"I'd be glad to have them come to
our house, they have such niceclothes,"
said Lena, the youngest and most mis-
chievous.
"Yes, it's very nice, I must say, to
go around in old duds, and have a girl
that's not a whit better in any way
than you, only she's been to a city
school and has a rich father, turn up her
nose at you, and perhaps make fun of
you, with her white dresses and her
silk dresses, and her gaiter boots."
"Can't we come to your house any
more? Can't we come to play?" asked
Carrie.
Oh, can't we come ?" said the othei
two, almost in a.breath.
"No, Auntie told me this morning,
that I must tell you and the rest of the
girls, that it wouldn't be convenient to
have you come, as you have done; you
are not stylish enough for Miss Hattie
Randolph to associate with, I suppose."
The girls looked really disappointed.
Lucindy was a great favorite, and a

















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~'ry


F


LITTLE SNOWBALL.









leader, fearless and successful in all es-
capades that required originality and
coolness, and her company would be
sorely missed. Her aunt had indulged
her in all the dress and amusement she
could afford, and her companions had
always been welcome to visit at the
house, but now there was a necessity
for her services, and play could not be
indulged in so often for the rest of the
summer, as the household needed the
avails, if not the presence of summer
boarders.
"Is she older than we?" asked Car-
rie.
"No, but she's lived all her life in
the city, and feels above everybody.
She and her brother and her mother
will just take possession of our piazza
and door-yard, and our swing; and I
can wash dishes, and sit on the back
door-step, and never see a girl from
one month's end to another. Here
Lucindy burst out crying.
"It's too bad," said Carrie.
The little Lena, ever fertile in inven-
tion, crept near, and putting her arms
around Lucindy's neck, whispered :
We'll come to see you on the sly,
and we can go down in the fields and
have fun, when your Auntie goes out
for an afternoon."
I wish you would," said Lucindy.
:And I'll bring down some cake and
pickles, and some honey, and we'll
have a pic-nic in spite of Mrs. Ran-
dolph !"
This was a solution of the unhappy
problem, and it seemed to throw a ray
of sunlight slantwise into the gloomy
picture of the coming summer.
The progress of the afternoon at
the school-house was not marked by
any unusual occurrence, and at the
close, the little company of schoolmates
proceeded together, until they came
to the road leading to Lucindy's home.
Here they parted, with many profes-
sions of everlasting friendship; Lu-
cindy, walking backwards, watched her
companions until the turn in the road
hid them from view.


Then she sat down upon a bank by
the roadside under an old tree. Throw-
ing her slate and books down on the
grass, she snatched a few daisies that
grew near, and thought of many things
of a disquieting nature, pulling the flow-
ers to pieces.
"I feel mad enough to run away!"
she thought. "I could earn my living
easy enough in the city, and not have
to work so hard either. Miss Hunter
can't teach me any thing more. I've
learned all she knows. It's just too
bad not to be able to get more educa-
tioni. I'll just take my own way, if
Auntie crowds me too much I don't
care if she don't like it. If my father
and mother were alive, she wouldn't
be my boss. I can get on in another
place with what I know about a good
many things.
"But oh, that girl that's coming has
so much better times than I. Those
lovely city schools! no one can help
learning there, they take such pains
with you."
She looked down the road upon which
the slanting red light of the declining
sun was shining, and there she saw a
cloud of dust. This road was not a
great thoroughfare, and she knew that
was the stage, and it probably would
bring the undesired summer guests.
She shrank visibly back into the
shadow of the tree as it came on, and
smoothed out her faded calico dress and
pulled her sun-bonnet farther over her
face.
The coach came rolling past, and a
girl in the back seat directed the atten-
tion of a f: -Lb.;- 1,1.1. -r.essed lady to
herself, she thought, and laughed as
though immensely pleased, at the same
time pointing at her. A little boy,
who sat in the front seat with the
driver, and who was playing upon a
harmonica, stopped, and looking in her
direction, laughed too.
"It's my outlandish sun-bonnet
they're making fun of," she thought.
"I suppose this is the beginning of
it."



















































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SHE SAT DOWN ON A BANK BY THE ROADSIDE UNDER AN OLD TREE.


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Now this ungentle girl was mistaken
in her surmise, as she was about many
things that caused her unhappiness.
\Vhat the people in the stage were
really interested and amused with were
a couple of lambs in the field back of
Lucindy, and their playful gyrations
were a novel sight to them, and they
had come for the very purpose of being
pleased with country sights and experi-
ences. Lucindy felt sure these were
the summer boarders, and, taking a
short cut across the fields, arrived at her
aunt's just as the guests were alighting.
kiucindy stood at the back corner of
the house, and heard the sprightly talk
of Mrs. Randolph and the merry laugh
of the daughter, as her aunt bade them
welcome, and she knew they were being
conducted to the upper rooms that hadl
been prepared with such thoughtful ref-
erence to their comfort.
Her aunt came down very soon, and
seeing Lucindy, bade her wash her
hands and smooth her hair, and put on
a white apron, and prepare to get ready
the tea. This duty Lucindy had always
done, and a little curiosity, mingled
with her other feelings, came to her, as
to how the boarders would like her
aunt's puffy biscuit, and if the cold
custard and raspberry jam wouldn't be
to their taste. If coffee and fricaseed
chicken would not be just the thing
after an all-day ride, and remarked to
herself: "If they don't like such fare,
let them go where they'll get better."
The tea passed off with great good
feeling; the new people making a most
favorable impression upon her aunt, and
impressing Lucindy with the discovery
that polite manners were a recommend
to strangers, for her aunt made gratified
remarks from time to time as she came
into the kitchen. Lucindy would not
wait upon the table the first evening, a
convenient head-ache being the excuse.
Mrs. Gimson was a most kindly dis-
posed person, and endeavored, in every
way, to m1ke the time pass pleasantly
to her guests ; but all she could say in
their favor did nothing toward dispos-


ing the mind of her niece to regard
them with any toleration. She per-
formed the household duties that fell
to her with a stolid indifference, or with
an openly expressed reluctance, and
her aunt bore all kindly, explaining and
smoothing away what she could, prom-
ising Lucindy that she should have a
nice present of money when the guests
departed.
Hattie Randolph had not taken any
notice of her, never really having seen
her, for Lucindy had positively refused
to wait upon the table; and had kept
herself in the back-ground, thus mak-
ing her life at home more of a disci-
pline than was necessary. She envied
Hattie's graceful ways and refined con-
versation; and her apparel was a reve-
lation, not of beauty, but of another
source of jealous envy to the country
girl, for in putting the guests' rooms
in order, she examined, critically, the
pretty things in the wardrobe.
The city people found so much to
interest them in the beauties of the
surrounding neighborhood, that they
were out nearly all the time, and when
the evening came, Mrs. Randolph, with
her son and daughter, made a pleasant
addition to Mrs. Gimson's parlors, with
heir graceful talk, and numberless re-
sources of entertainment.
Lucindy, observant and sullen, kept
herself informed of all their movements,
and was continually having the blush
brought to her cheek and the bitter-
ness of comparison to her heart, as she
noted the wide difference there was be-
tween herself and them. It never once
occurred to this foolish girl, that this
difference was growing more and more
every day, by the fostering of pride and
an ignorant stubbornness, which pre-
vented her, utterly, from ever cultivat-
ing their envied characteristics.
It was a long time since she had
seen any of her playmates from the
school, but by an ingenious contrivance,
that had been thought out by Lucindy,
a tin box had been inserted into an old
tree in a fence corner, about midway














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between her home and the school-house,
and in this they deposited their notes
to each other.
This was a solace to Lucindy, as all
the happenings at the school could be
reported, and many a mis-spelled, soiled
missive found its way to the eager
hands of the absent one. Not less in-
teresting was the news as to the doings
of the boarders. NThin. however
trivial, that happened not to accord
with Lucindy's notions was overlooked
in her setting forth of grievances, and
she found ready sympathizers in the
Hess girls. Carrie Hess stood under
the old tree, one lovely rc,:.f~ I;, over-
staying her time in doing so, as the
warning bell had rung at the school-
house, reading a note she had taken
from the tree post-office. Among other
things, it communicated the welcome
news, that herself and sisters might
come to the pretty knoll behind the
house that afternoon, and that Lucindy
would take the occasion to make a
holiday for herself, as her aunt was
going, after dinner, to look up fresh
butter and eggs, and would be gone
until near tea time.
Mrs. Randolph had hired a team, and
with her family would be gone the
same length of time, for a ride.
Carrie took a race to school, very
much elated at the prospect of enjoy-
ing Lucindy's company once more.
Recess came, and after eating their
very generous lunch, they prepared to
quietly put a c.i-;ni,..J: i. distance be-
tween themselves and the precincts
over which Miss Hunter's authority
extended. They were "skipping," as
they termed it, and as their parents
would not know of it, they reveled in
the forbidden freedom. They proceeded
over fences and across stubble fields,
and soon reached the coveted meeting-
place. A wide-spreading tree, with a
wreath of apples upon it, just turning
to a-ruddy hue, was almost completely
surrounded at its trunk with hazel
bushes, but on one side they did not
grow; this was away from the house,


and toward the wheat field. It was a
natural bower, and into this they crept
to await the coming of Lucindy.
They were not kept long insuspense,
and when she appeared what a hugging
and kissing were gone through with!
"Have your boarders gone for their
ride?" asked Carrie.
"Yes, and I thought they'd never
get off. Old Mrs. Randolph fusses so,
you'd think she was going to a party
every time she goes to ride. I wonder
who she expects to see on a country
road ?"
"Sure enough. How was the girl
dressed, Lu?"
"Oh, she had on a light check silk,
and a lovely brown jockey, trimmed
with pink satin ribbon rosettes and
long ends at the back, and a lovely,
wide collar."
"Don't you like her better than her
mother?" asked Lena.
"Well, she doesn't put on as many
airs as her mother, and she's acted, two
or three times, as if she were going to
speak to me, but I managed not to let
her. I don't want her acquaintance.
I don't want any of her coming down
to me!"
"I suppose they have nice things,
that they've brought with them, in their
rooms," said Carrie.
"Yes, Mrs. Randolph has an elegant
blue satin pin-cushion, with morning-
glories and apple-blossoms painted on
it, and a dressing-case with white ivory
combs and brushes, and they do your
hair up lovely, for I fixed mine in her
room yesterday with them. This caused
much merriment.
Lucindy proceeded to take from her
pocket a pack of children's cards, illu-
minated with gaily-dressed ladies and
gentlemen, and queer-looking figures of
all kinds. These caused a sensation;
they looked incredulously at Lucindy,
as she said:
"The-se are the things that make
them laugh evenings. If we knew how
to play them, we could have some of
their kind of fun."

















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They passed them to one another
and examined them. They threw them
aside presently, and returned to the
subject of never-failing interest-the
wardrobe of the boarders.
Carrie and Lena intimated more than
once, that if they could only see some-
thing that city people really considered


Lucindy had no scruples whatever in
procuring so coveted a pleasure for her
dear friends. She ran back to the
house and up into Mrs. Randolph's
room. She fumbled over the dresses,
and thinking it was as well to take out
two or three, that they might feast
their eyes upon a variety, she piled


OR1EITIIENN 1 Al AI~Nt, THlE BIEAUTIFUL MIULL, OVERSKIRT ON EIE UROUL.Nl.


elegant, they would be satisfied, and for-
ever indebted to Lucindy for the sight.
"Oh, dear, if that will please you so
much," said Lucindy, entirely willing
to gratify them, "111 go and get one
of Mrs. Randolph's prettiest dresses
and show you. It wont take me a
minute."
"Oh, do, Lucindy! we're just crazy
to see it! She'll never know it," said
Carrie, with eagerness.


two silk dresses and an India mull upon
her arm, and hurried out.
They d1i -Ic', considerably upon the
dusty path, but this was not noticed, and
the wild delight of the girls, when they
really had them in their hands, amply re-
paid Lucindy for any risk, she thought.
They fingered them over, the bead
embroideries and lace trimmings, and
examined the fashion of each with un-
tiring interest.


ly.

Z`Z.






























































BIRDS CHASING BUTTERFLIES.








"Let's put them on! "said Carrie,
"and see how we would look in them."
"We'll look sweetly stylish," said
Freda. ?
"Oh, do let us, Lucindy! Mrs. Ran-
dolph wont be back until evening.
It'll be such fun! insisted Carrie.
"All right, let us; I don't care how
much fun we have with them, the more
the better," returned Lucindy. No
sooner said than done; over their clo-
thing they stretched the dresses, and
jerked and settled them into the proper
set. Shouts of laughter greeted every
ridiculous pose and awkward stumble,
and certainly nothing could be more
provocative of merriment than their
appearance. They trailed the dresses
over the stubble in mock dignity; they
improvised a dance, and went through
all the grotesque changes they could
invent. Their comments and jokes
were most spicy and personal, and in
all Lucindy led.
After a good time enjoyed in this
way, the fun lost its point and novelty,
and they threw the dresses in a heap
on the grass, and sat and chatted over
the gossip connected with the school
at the cross roads. The afternoon was
wearing on, and Lucindy thought it time
to produce her good things, and tak-
ing up the dresses, ran along to the
house.
In getting through the bars she
dropped the mull overskirt and did not
perceive her loss. Gretchen saw it,
and running after, brought it back.
Lucindy hung the dresses up in their
places, certainly not improved by the
airing they had had; but chancing to
look out of an upper window, she was
horrified to see down the road the
identical team that Mrs. Randolph had
hired, arn as true as the world, they
were coming home !
She rushed down, and abandoning
the lunch, ran as fast as she could to
the field, and as she approached, this
was the sight that met he: gaze:
Gretchen was strutting about with a
dock leaf held over her head for a para-


sol, and trailing the beautiful mull
overskirt on the ground, endeavoring
to realize the feelings of a fine lady in
a trailed dress.
"Gretchen! Gretchen!" screamed
Lucindy, as loudly as she dared. "Hide
it! hide it! Mrs. Randolph has come
home !"
Carrie jumped, and lifting Gretchen
from it, secured the skirt, and Lucindy
grasped it and rolled it in a small ball
and hid it in the hazel bushes. .Then
they held a hurried consultation, and
decided it was best for Lucindy to go
back immediately; but, as it was now
impossible to restore the skirt to its
place in the wardrobe, they urged her
to put it in some unfrequented spot,
until a favorable opportunity came to
get it back. Lucindy now feared her
aunt would arrive without warning, and,
although loth to part without the long
anticipated treat, they walked quickly
down the path by the fence toward the
road.
"What on the face of the earth will
I ever do with this thing?" whispered
Lucindy, for the first time betraying
fear. "I can't get it back to-night,
that's as plain as the nose on your face.
Oh, grief! she may inquire after it as
soon as I go in! It'll be just like my
luck for her to want to wear it to-night.
Maybe she expects some one to spend
the evening with them, and that's what
brought them back so early. Let me
see-Auntie will find it if I put it any-
where about the house or barn; I must
not be found out in this,, because if I
am, Auntie wont give me the present
she promised. I'll tell you, Carrie, you
take it and put it down the hole in the
tree, under the tin box. No one has
ever found out that place; it will
be safe there until I go for it to-mor-
row.
This was immediately decided upon,
and the girls went sulkily home. The
skirt was forced down into the tree,
and the tin box placed on top, and they
trudged slowly homeward.
As Lucindy approached the house,






















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she began to see more and more the
serious dilemma in which she was
placed, and her face hardened visibly
as she thought. f
"I'll deny the whole thing if I'm cor-
nered; perhaps Mrs. Randolph will
live through the disappointment of not
wearing her dress for once. I have to
live all the time without such dresses."
Just then she heard her aunt calling
her, and she knew that some unlooked-
for occasion had brought them home
before evening.
Lucindy, we must hurry up the
tea; the folks are going to spend the
evening at Judge Brander's. The team
is waiting to take them there. Mrs.
Randolph saw me in the village, and
told me."
Lucindy did not answer, but went in
and about her duties as usual. Presently
Mrs. Randolph called for Mrs. Gimson
to come up stairs, as she wished to
speak to her. Lucindy felt that now
the discovery had been made, and
strengthening her purpose, to deny all,
worked on, quietly waiting for devel-
opments.
. In a few moments, her aunt came
down in great excitement, and told her
that someone had been in the house,
while they were away, and had stolen
Mrs. Randolph's elegant India mull
overskirt, and had almost ruined her
other dresses, as the trimmings were
broken and destroyed, and some of
them were gone entirely.
"It must have been when I went for
water; I noticed that there were two
tramps going down the road, a man and
woman.
Oh, Lucindy, you should have
locked the door !
"Why, aunt, I never lock the doors
when I go after water. I suppose
you'll put the blame of it on me!"
Here Lucindy began to cry. "I think
you are a very strange woman to leave
no one but a girl alone in a house, with
such, valuable things; it's a wonder the
robbers didn't kill me; my coming in
frightened them away. I've no doubt


they thought it was the hired man,"
Lucindy continued to cry.
Mrs. Gimson never suspected her
niece of such systematic deception.
The well was a short distance from the
house, and that accounted for the fact
that nothing else was missing, as they
had not had time, and also that the
other dresses had been rudely dragged
to get them down.
She believed Lucindy's story. Mrs.
Randolph could not account for the
plight in which she found her clothing,
and bewailed her loss, as being particu-
larly annoying at this juncture.
Nothing more was said, and, after tak-
ing tea, they started for the Judges, leav-
ing Mrs. Gimson in a greatly perturbed
state of mind. She knew that this un-
fortunate thing would get abroad and
discourage patrons. Desirable board-
ers would avoid her house in future.
Lucindy, never uttering a comfort-
ing word to her aunt, went up to her
room with an air of injured innocence
that hurt her aunt quite as much as
any thing she had undergone. During
the early part of the evening a violent
thunder storm came up, and Mrs.
Randolph did not return. The next
morning it still rained, and there was
no excuse for Lucindy's going out,
and the dress could not be secured.
Mrs. Randolph returned at noon, and
informed Mrs. Gimson that shehad
been invited to visit, for the rest of the
summer, at Judge Brander's, and would
leave Mrs. Gimson's the next day.
Just as soon as Lucindy could be
spared, she ran down to the tree post-
ofce, put a note into the tin box, and
returned. This, Carrie Hess got as soon
as recess came, and the scheme worked
out successfully, as the ev.. t proved.
Barry, Hattie's brother, wa, stand-
ing by the shrubbery gate, when lit-
tle barefoot boy sidled up, and attracted
his attention by his curious behavior-
he finally sooke:
"I say, them Hitalyans stuffed yer
mother's clothes inter a tree down here;
I found it this morning. "















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NOW, CHILDREN, DON'T ALL SPEAK AT ONCE I


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"What do you mean?" asked Barry,
not fully understanding the boy.
"That ere tree, don't yer see?" and
the boy pointed to the girls' post-office,
that stood out dimly down the road.
"Is it there now?" asked Barry.
"I do'no, I seed it there this morning .











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the rain had soaked it and the decayed
wood had stained it.
Yes, I think it must have been those
tramps," said Mrs. Randolph. "They
hid it there, expecting to come for the
rest of it the next day. They'll be dis-
appointed. I'll be gone."


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A LITTLE DARE-FOOT BOY SIDLED UP AND ATTI COTED HIS
ATTENTION.


"Wait till I g6 and tell my mother,"
said Barry, and he ran into the
house.
In a moment Mrs. Randolph and Mrs.
Gimson were at the gate, but the boy
had disappeared. Go down, Barry,
and see it what'he says is true," said
his mother. He ran off, and returning
after a little time, brought the over-
skirt, rolled up in a soiled bundle, as


The boy was Carrie Hess's brother,
and the ruse.had worked; entirely turn-
ing off all suspicion from Lucindy.
Mirs. Gimson lost her summer board-
ers and Lucindy returned to school.
This unprincipled girl, however, learned
the hard lesson, in her after life, that
ingratitude to benefactors, and unfaith-
fulness to trust, meet a sure retribution,
even if they appear to succeed,


* *' *


.


























































.............























AS NIGHT CAME DARKLY DOW~I



The night came darkly down;
The birdies' mother said,
"Peep! peep!
You ought to be asleep!
'Tis time my little ones were safe in bed!"
So, sheltered by her wings in downy nest,
The weary little birdlings took their rest.

The night came darkly down;
The baby's mother said,
"Bye-low!
You musn't frolic so!
You should have been asleep an hour ago!"
And, nestling closer to its mother's breast,
The merry prattler sank to quiet rest.

Then in the cradle soft
'Twas laid with tenderest care.
"Good-night!
Sleep till the morning light!'
Whispered the mother as she breathed a prayer.
Night settled down; the gates of day were barred
And only loving angels were on guard.
JOSEPHINE POLLARD.





















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WATERING THE FLOWERS.









COME, LITTLE BI3RD!

"Come, little bird, I have waited some
time,
Light on my hand, and I'll give you
a dime.
I have a cage that will keep you warm,
Free from danger, and safe from storm."
"No, little lady, we cannot do that,
Not for a dime, nor a brand new hat.
We are so happy, and wild, and free,
Chee-dee-dee! Chee-dee-dee! "
"Fly, pretty bird, fly down, and take
Just a crumb of my Christmas cake;
Santa Claus brought it to me, you
know,
Over the snow. Over the snow."
"Yes, we know of your home, so rare,
And stockings hung in the fire-light
there;
We peeped through the window-blinds
to see. -
Chee-dee-dee! Chee-dee-dee! "
" We were on the button-ball tree,
Closer tnan we were thought to be;
Soon you may have us in t" tea,
Chee-dee-dee! Chee-dee-dee! "

SIRENA'S TROUBLE.

Adalina Patti was a doll of most
trying disposition. You couldn't tell,
when she woke up, what distracting
thing she'd do first. I've known her,
when seated at the breakfast table, in
her high chair, next to Sirena, her lit-
tle mamma, I have known her to jerk
suddenly forward, and plunge her face
right into a plate of buttered cakes and
syrup.
This necessitated the removing of
her from the table and a good deal of
cleansing and re-dressing on the part of
Bidelia, the hired girl.


She had movable eyes; they were
very lovely, but, if you'll believe it.
she'd screw them round, just to be con-
trary, so that she'd look cross-eyed for
hours together. No sweet persuasion
or threat of punishment could induce
her to look like a doll in her right mind.
This was not quite so bad though,
as the outlandish noises she made
when she didn't want to say "mamma,"
which she could do very distinctly when
she first arrived, at Christmas.
But a crisis in her petulant obstinacy
came, when she wouldn't sit still to
have her hair combed, and it looked
like a "hurrah's nest," her brother Bob
said. All her naughtiness came right
out then. She rolled one eye entirely
up in her head, and left it there, and
stared so wild with the other, that
Sirena gave her a pretty lively shake,
but she only dropped that eye and
rolled up the other.
This made her little mamma pause
and meditate. .She got provoked as
she looked at her, and then she gave
her a double shake; then that bad doll
rolled up both her eyes, and nothing-
could induce her to get them down
again.
Oh, dear! How many dreadful things
she looked like. There was a vicious
parrot in the park that made its eyes
look just like Adalina's did, just before
it stuck its head through the bars of its
cage to bite people. And there was a
stone lady, that was named "Cercs,"
on one of the paths in the same park,
and she kept her eyes rolled up all the
time, greatly to the terror of Sirena
and Bidelia, who had to pass her in
coming home in the twilight. And
down street there was a tobacconist's
sign that represented a fairy queen,
with butterfly wings, taking a pinch of
snuff, and the weather had taken all
the paint off her eyes and she looked
simply hideous; and Sirena grasped
Bidelia very tight, till they got round
the corner. Now here was her lovely
French doll looking like them and cut-
ting up worse. She'd go to mamma





























































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with- this trouble as she did with all
others.
She put her doll down with her face
against the carpet, and taking hold of
her pink kid arm, dragged her, not
very c,-ntl over the carpet to her
mother.
At that moment in bounced Rob,
who, immediately taking in the situa-
tion of-affairs, exclaimed,-" Oh, don't
be so cruel to Adalinai Is she just
horrid? You know, Rena, that's what
you are, sometimes, yourself. What's
the matter any way? What makes
you look so glum ?"
"This doll is acting dreadful; just
look at her eyes !" said Sirena.
"You can't tell any thing by any
one's eyes, yours look like the 4th of
July, now, and you're a delightful lit-
tle girl, everybody says; you don't
whack things round, and scream, when
the flowers bloom in the spring."
He was to be repressed immediately.
Sirena looked at her mother.
"He wants to be funny, Sirena,"
said her mother, soothingly.
"Then he isn't funny; he's never
funny," said Sirena, drawing herself up
with dignity.
Totty Belmont says you're the teas-
enest, hatefulest boy she knows! So
there," remarked Sirena.
"Oh, ho! I don't wonder the doll
is scared. Why don't you treat that
pretty creature with some considera-
tion? Dr.i.-_in; her over the carpet,
-and spoiling her pretty dress! Now
you'll see, just as soon as she comes to
me, because I'm good-looking and nice,
she'll put her eyes down and -Iil. at
me as lovely as ever.
He took the doll and jumped it up
and down in the air, dancing about and
singing, "Tra-la."
As sure as the world! Down came
the eyes, and Adalina was her charm-
ing self again.
"Now you see," said'Rob, "if you
want people to be good to you and love
you, you must not be rude and ill-na.
tured yourself. This doll is French,


and particular, and she just won't look
at cross little girls ; so there! "
"I think," said her mamma, that
Sirena will not get so angry with her
doll again. She looks as if she were
ashamed of it now. However disagree-
able we may think people are, it's
Best to watch ourselves, lest in finding
fault with them, we fall into the same
errors.


LADY VIOLET.

My little love, with soft, brown eyes,
Looks shyly back at me,
Beneath the drooping apple bough,
She thinks I do not see.
I cannot choose, I laugh with her,
I catch her merry glee;
Or stay you near, or go you far,
Oh, little love, how sweet you are!

A hue, like light within a rose,
Is dimpling on her cheek,
It wins a grace, it deepens now
With every airy freak;
A love-light in the rose like this,
Ah, you may vainly seek;
It shines for me, no shadows mar,
Oh, little love, how fair you are 4

My heart clings to her pretty words,
They will not be forgot;
My happy brain will not discern,
If they be wise or not.
To ever be so'charmed, so blessed,
Ah, this were happy lot.
My own, shine ever like a star
Upon my life, so true you are.







































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BEACHED>.








ON TRIAL.

Little Hal Keys was pretty sure to
throw a stone at every pussy cat he
saw, and so all the cats around used to
have a great deal to say about him as
they sat together on the back fences,
or when they had a party in the big
barn. At last the cats determined to
do something about it, and so they
said : "We will have him up for trial


kind to me from the time I was a little
kitten, I will be his lawyer, and try to
get his punishment made as light as I
can.
Twelve cats had to be -found who
could say that they were not quite sure
that Hal was such a bad boy as he
seemed to be. They were.stay-at-home
cats,who did not know what was going
on outside of the comfortable houses
where they lived. Tlli1,e twelve cats


DULLY VARDEN ACCUSENGC JACIE WITU CRUELTY.'


before Judge Thomas White." He was
the wisest and oldest of all the cats in
town, and wore -spectacles that made
him look even wiser than he was.
Eleven of the most learned cats snidl
they would be lawyers, and get -othl -
cats to be witnesses, to tell what Hal
had done, and try to get him punished.
One of the eleven said: For the sake
of Hal's mother, who has always been


w.eie to be the jury, and it was thc;r
,iit, t.. hear all that the lawyers anm
the witnesses had to say about Hal'.
doings, and then to tell whether or not
they thought he ought to be punished.
At last the day of the trial came;
Judge Thomas White sat down in his
big chair and took. his pen; the law-
yers took their places; the twelve jury
cats were brought in, and put in a higL


















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box, so they could not jump out and
run away. Hal was brought in and
put in the prisoner's box, as they call
it; and Christopher Gray, his mother's
old cat, took his place beside Hal.
Three cats, called "reporters," came
in with pockets full of paper and pen-
cils, to write down all that is said; to
print in the newspapers, for all cats in
the world to read.
The first witness to tell all the bad
she knew about Hal was his sister
Alice's little Dolly Varden. How
saucy she looked, with the blue ribbon
tied around her neck, as she sat on the
witness'stand telling how Hal chased
her from cellar to garret; and stepped
on her tail; and gave her saucer of
milk to the dog Jack whenever he got
a chance. "Cruel, cruel boy," said
Dolly Varden, "he teases his sister al-
most as much as he teases me."
Hal trembled from head to foot when
he heard what Dolly Varden said, for
he knew it all was true, and he was
much afraid that a very hard punish-
ment would be given to him. Then
the old black cat, on whom Hal 1-ad
thrown a dipper of hot water, w\'.'
called to the witness stand. Poor old
thing! the hot water had taken the
fur off his back. Then came another
cat, limping up to the witness stand,
whose leg had been broken by a stone
which Hal had thrown. There were so
many witnesses that it would make rmy
story too long to tell about them al
All that Christopher Gray could say in
Hal's favor was: "He has a good
mother."
The more shame for him," said
one of the lawyers.
When the jury had heard all that was
to.be said, they went out of the room
together; in five minutes they came
back; all agreed that Hal should be
punished. Then Judge Thomas White,
in his most solemn tone, said : "Albert
Keys, you are found guilty of great
cruelty to good cats everywhere. I
must, therefore, pronounce sentence
upon you. You must go with us to


Cat town for two clays and one night."
There were tears in Hal's eyes, but
the Judge had no pity on him, and he
called in some of the strongest cats to
take him. Oh what a long, hard way
it was; over fences, under houses, and
through the barns. It was hard work
for Hal to keep up with them, but they
made him. What a time he had after
he got to Cat town. All of the cats
gathered around him, and howled at
him, and scratched his face and hands,
and made him wish he was any place
but there. At last when he was set
free, he never could have found his
way home, if pretty little Dolly Var-
den had not forgiven him, and shown
him the way back.
Hal was never known after that to
throw a stone at a cat, or to treat one
badly in any way.



TWO LITTLE GIRLS.

They don't know much, these little girls,
I'll tell you why 'tis so,
They played away their time at school,
And let their lessons go.

One took a slate to cil-her,
And all went very well,
Until she came to four times eight,
And that she could not tell.

The other would make picture
In her copy book at school,
Of boys and girls and donkeys
Which was against the rule.

But nothing good could come of it,
And this is what befel;
She tried to write to papa,
And found she could not spell.

The teacher said, "Of all sad things,
I would not be a dunce,
But would learn to write and cipher,
And begin the work at once.








































THE ARRIVAL OF SANTA CLAUS.


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S- -. I..,


HELPFUL WORDS.

A great astronomer was, once in his
early days, working hard at mathematics,
and the difficulties he met with, made
him ready to give up the study in de-
spair. After listlessly looking out of
the window, he turned over the leaves
of his book, when the lining at the


!I I. attracted
I ,I. .l r en tion.'
I ...' at it
.: .... I, ._ tf i. ,. ir. ,vas part
I .1 .. r. I,... I l.'. I '" L' g m an ,
i | I I .... i ll,. I inn :II-I. .i:i :!,-a rte n ed
S ,i..i.. -" sir, go
r. 1 .. lficulties
*' 1 i_. ,il I;: l ..l. ., :lva n ce."

I i. .. _... ., follow w ing
.... l .,. ,..],1 1-:,, tiled h im -
I I 1 .' ii. .. I *. n I- ,,, r.,h I, stu d ies,
*, I 1, | Ii ',, ,. 1 1... .(. '. ... .1 1 bh e m o st
I- I Ir-11 t l,:: -I A, D .


I. A SLE s-, HAi\iE.

S1 ', i i .. :, : I.- .. 1 i.L ,.i, if y ou
I _l ,I- i i.. l ,, ] 11 ",. i j >- i,,. .. '. It is n o
,i, I l : ,, t I i .. .; r 1... ,I- w ell for
yuL" lliILU tLILIuuLS tlo~u ic. fui uur part,
we would rather see a dozen patches
on your clothes than to have you do a
bad or mean action, or to hear a pro-
fane or vulgar word proceed from your
lips. No good boy will shun you or
think less of you because you do not
dress as well as he does, and if any one
laugh at your appearance, never mind
it. Go right on doing your duty.


-? '. i


































































RESCUED.


































PUTTING OUT THE CANDLE


Charles Dickens, for that is the
name of the gentleman you see sitting
by the table, wrote many books and
stories. Some of his stories are about
little children for grown folks to read,
and others are for the children them-
selves. Mr. Dickens had a pet cat,
that was always in his library. Strange
to say, it had no name. That was no
matter, because the cat could not hear.
He was deaf. But he liked very much
to be petted, and plainly showed some-
times that he was not pleased to have


his master.do any thing else. One even.
ing, when Mr. Dickens was sitting at
the table reading, his candle suddenly
went out. He did not know why it
should have done so, but he got up
and lighted it. In a few moments it
began to get dark again, and he looked
up quickly at the candle, and saw puss
just raising his paw to put it out,
' What did he do ?" He gave the cat
a loving little pat and went on with
his reading. What asly cat was that tc
find a way to make his master notice him.






















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WELCOME NEWS.


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SULKY ARCHIE.

BY C. MANNERS SMITH.

"It must be nice to be a sailor, and I
wish I was one. Every thing goes
wrong and mother is al-
ways scolding me, and
father is never done
growling; I am getting
tired of it."
The speaker was a
little, round-cheeked lad,
of about nine years of age.
He was standing, with
a tall, fair-haired girl,
evidently his sister, on
the edge of the river
Wyncombe. He was not
a lively boy. He was
one of those thoughtful,
gloomy little boys who
are always dreaming; al-
ways thinking and
imagining some fancied ..
injury from either father
or mother.
Archie Phillips was
the little boy's name,
and he and his sister -P .
had got a holiday and
were watching a party of t"'i. .
older children from the
Wynne High School,
who had come down to
the river to spend the
afternoon. There was
Algernon Wright with a
large model yacht, and
Willie Schofield, the
Mayor's son, with a new i
silver-mounted fishing g-
rod. They were all as
happy arid full of frolic
as all boys in the spring-time of life
ought to be. Little Archie was, how-
ever, of a morose temperament, and
did not share in any of the amusements.
The village of Wynne is a fishing vil-
lage, and is approached from the sea by
a beautiful cove on the Cornish coast.


The town is built on the slopes of the
hills reaching down to the water's edge,
and the river Wynne empties itself
into the sea near by.
It is, indeed, a pleasant place. At
the time of this story all the boys of
Wynne, young and old, were crazy after


.- ----;- I...
"NOBODY CARES."
maritime pursuits and sports. They
spent the bulk of their holiday time
either in sailing about the bay, or in
fishing, bathing, or holding model yacht
races in the cove.
"Why don't I have a yacht in the
place of a silly ball? Why don't I have



































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toys to play with instead of Lucy and
Gyp? What do girls or dogs know
about a top or a cat hunt? I'm dis-
gusted! I'll go for a sailor! I'll run
away; there !
The girl took no notice of this dis-
course. It was no new thing for her
to hear grumbling from her brother, and
she was accustomed to bear it without
murmur or dissent. Presently she ran
away, along the river bank, with her
doll, to a shady place, where she knew
the sun was not strong, and where some
rushes overhung the path. There she
could put her doll to sleep. It was no
use asking Archie to join her. He was
too old and too much of a man to enter
into any such stupidity.
Presently Archie sat down in the
shade, on the balustrades of the church-
yard and watched the glee of the High-
Schoolboys with a sulky envy.
It was a glorious summer afternoon.
The sky overhead was one vast, in-
verted field of blue, without a single
speck of cloud. The hot sun was beat-
ing down almost perpendicularly, and
the rays penetrated the leaves, shed-
ding a lattice-work pattern on the
ground.
"I know Ben Huntly, the boat-builder,
will tell me how to go to sea. He has
been a sailor himself, and I know he
will tell me all about it. Nobody cares;
well, mother might, perhaps, a bit, but
then, I don't know."
Then he paused in his musings and
thought of all the injustice done to him
by his mother. He thought, like all
gloomy, wretched little boys, of all that
was ill. He didn't for one moment re-
member, how, that very morning, the
self-same, unjust mother, after packing
up his little lunch-basket, had put her
arms round his neck, and a little red-
cheeked apple in his pocket, and told
him to keep away from the river. Oh,
no, he seemed to have quite forgotten
all that.
Then the sun went behind a cloud
and Archie felt the cool wind, which
blew from the cove, on his cheek, so he


jumped down from his musing plaee
and sped away as fast as his legs would
carry him toward the house of the
boat-builder. He ran across the green,
down the grassy slopes and across a
stretch of shingly beach, to the cottage
of his friend.
Ben Huntly, the boat-builder, was a
good-hearted fellow, and was extremely
fond of all the children of the village.
He had that method possessed by few
people of searching into the heart of
a child and arguing with him in a
manner suitable for a child's under-
standing.
Archie had often sought Ben's coun-
sel when things seemed to go wrong,
and it was seldom that the boat-builder
had failed to convince the boy, even to
his satisfaction, that he was wrong.
It was an off day for the boat-builder.
He was sitting, smoking his pipe, in
the cottage porch, and reading a well-
thumbed copy of "Gray's Master Mari-
ner." He welcomed Archie with a se,
cret delight, for he knew, by his little
friend's face, that he was brooding over
some fancied injury, and it gave the
boat-builder pleasure to talk his little
friend out of his troubles.
"Well, Archie, what's new in the
wind," said Ben, as he greeted the
boy with a grasp of the hand. It
seems almost an age since I sawyou, my
boy."
Little Archie sat down on a large
stone bench in the porch, and told Ben
his story. His mother had been vexed
with him that morning. She had asked
him to call at the rectory with a mes-
sage for Doctor Hart, and he wanted to
cut grass at the time, and objected.
His mother did not scold him, oh, no,
Ben, she sent Carrie, who willingly
took the message, and his father had
called him a name. Then, again, he
had no toys like other boys. Some had
a pony; he couldn't have one. His
father always answered his request for
a pony with the reply that he couldn't
afford one just then and he would see
about it some day. If Ben wtuld @a4

































































24






I''




AIH




-j~


A RECKLESS RIDE.


___ ~_


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----
----;--


~-~,~-~----- ~~.1 ~2-
---- .
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tell him how to go to sea he would cer-
tainly run away the next day.
Now, Ben knew the character of lit-
tle Archie better, perhaps, than his own
mother did; so, when he had given the
little boy a draught of cool milk from
the cottage kitchen, Ben lit his pipe
afresh, and took down an old telescope,
a relic of his sea-faring days, from the
wall. The young man and the boy then
strolled across a low, level tract of sand,
to a grassy hillock, formed by the cur-
rent of the Wyncombe. Here they
sat down in the fast waning twilight,
and discussed
little Archie's
purposed flight. 4T 'C
"Yes, Archie," f
said Ben, "a sail-
or's life is well
enough, if you
don't mind hard -
beds and harder i
words. If you
can eat salty
meat and mouldy
bread it's a fine
life, A rchie.
There is no life '?..
I'd like better if
they'd give you
fresher water and
not quite so
many cruel blows.
But, if you've :
made up your
mind, Archie, and
think you can
go to bed nights ARCHIE TnINKING
in a rolling, tossing sea, with the wind
howling and the rain pouring, and your
mother thousands of miles away, look-
ing at your little empty bed, I should
think very seriously about it. Archie
looked thoughtful, as the gloom deep-
ened on his face, and silence fell on the
pair for a time.
Suddenly Ben spied a French frigate
looming against the darkening sky and
showed it to Archie through the tele-
scope. He explained all the parts of
the ship and dwelt long in his answers
a


to the lad's questions. He told little
Archie how, early one stormy morning,
he had been awakened from his bed in
the cottage by the sound of guns away
at sea, how he had descended to the
beach with a lot of the villagers, to find
the waves beating mercilessly over a
great, broken ship. He told how they
had all stood, in the leaden morning,
stricken with dread at the sight of the
disaster they were all powerless to pre-
vent; leaning hard against the wind,
their breath and vision often failing
as the sleet and spray rushed at them
from the great
mountain of
-, i foaming sea
which kept break-
ild ing on the rocks
in the cove. He
told farther, how,
before all their
eyes, the vessel
had given one
great heave back-
wards and sank
beneath the
waves forever;
how they could
faintly hear the
heart-rending
screams of wo-
S men and children
above the storm
as the great waste
of waters covered
the struggling
vessel. He told
;OF BiE'S STORY. Archie that, on
the following evening, while he was
mending a boat down the bay, he came
across something lying amongst a
mass of sea-wee and on turning it
over had found it to be the dead body
of a sailor-a fair, curly-headed youth.
. "He was clad," said Ben, "in a pair
of linen trowsers and a sea shirt, and
the weeds and sand were all tangled in
his hair. I raised him up from the
beach and a small bundle fell out of his
bosom. I laid him in my boat and
went for Doctor Hart. It was the talk


I


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Iii, .1* i


DOCTORING TH IBABY.


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of the village for days. Dr. Hart found
the bundle to contain a packet of let-
ters written in a feeble hand and signed
by the dead sailor's mother. They
were loving letters of expected joy at
her boy's return."
Ben would have gone on with the
story, but he was attracted by the ap-
pearance of Archie. The little lad was
sitting, with his pale face turned up to
Ben, and with two great tears, as large
as horse beans, in the corners of his
eyes. On meeting Ben's gaze he broke
down thoroughly and burst into a flood
of tears, throwing his arms round the
honest boat-builder's neck, sobbing on
his breast.
"Oh, Ben, I don't want to leave
mother; I am a wicked boy. If she
were to die, Ben, what should I do'?
Do you think she is alive now, Ben?
I don't want to go away, Ben."
The boat-builder soothed the little
lad and smiled at the success of his pur-
pose to divert the boy's mind.
It was now nearly night, and time
for Archie to go home, so Ben took
him on his. shoulders and carried him to
Mr. Archer's house, where the family
were all waiting supper for the little
boy.
Archie-ran to his mother as soon as
he got in and kissed her over and over
again. He told her his little story,
making the good woman's heart over-
flow with love for her little son.
Ben stayed to supper with the family
that night, and all was bright and happy
as the merry party sat round the board
laughing and joking to their heart's
content.
*
Archie is a young man now, and has
outgrown his gloomy, brooding dispo-
sition. He is a clerk in the office of a
rich corn merchant in Oxbridge, the
nearest market to Wynne, and shows
every tendency to become a.successful
and respected business man.
Occasionally, when things do not-hap-
pen to his satisfaction, and he feels the
old spirit of discontent rising, he checks


it by reflecting on his early unhappy.
ness. If his mother or father are harsh
or angry with him, or if Mr. Gayton,
his employer, speaks quickly or loudly
to him, he stifles any tendency to sulk
and become angry by thinking of Ben
Huntly and the story of the wreck.



AWISH FOR WINGS.

0 dear little birdie, how nice it must
be
To be able to fly
Far away to the sky,
Or to sit on the toss-away top of a
tree.

I wish you would lend me your wings
for a day.
I have two little feet
That can run on the street,
One step at a time, but I can't fly
away.

I would fly to the woods if I only had
wings;
Over house-top and tree,
Like a bird or a bee,
And sit by the side of the thrush while
she sings.

I would count the blue eggs in her
snug little nest;
I would stay all day long,
To hear her sweet song,
And bring home a feather of gold from
I.er breast.
MRS. S. J. BRIGHAM.











































.o


VlU+,


THE GLEANERS.










CONSEQUENCES:
PARABLE.


The baby held it in his hand,
An acorn green and small,
He toyed with it, he tossed it high,
And then he let it fall!
He sought for it, and sorely wept,
Or did his mother know
(Though sweet she kissed -and clasped
her boy)
What loss had grieved him so
Then he was borne to other lands,
And there he grew to man,
And wrought his best, and did his
most,
And lived as heroes can.
But in old age it came to pass
He trod his native shore,
Yet did not know the pleasant fields
Where he had played before
Beneath a spreading oak he sat,
A wearied man and old,
And said,-" I feel a strange content
My inmost heart enfold.
"As if some sweet old secret wish
Was secretly fulfilled,
As if I traced the plan of life
Which God Himself has willed !
"Oh, bonnie tree which shelters me,
Where summer sunbeams glow,
I've surely seen thee in my dreams !-
Why do I love thee so'
ISABELLA FYVIE MAYO.


COMFORTABLE MRS.
CROOK.

BY RUTH LAMB.

If Mrs. Jemima Crook happened to
be in a very good temper, when taking
a cup of tea with some old acquaint-
ance, she would sometimes allude to
her private affairs in these words: "I
don't deny it; Crook has left me com-


fortable." This was not much to tell,
for Mrs. Crook was not given to confi-
dences, and a frequent remark of hers
was: "I know my own business, and
that isenough for me. I don't see that
I have any call to fill other people's
minds and mouths with what does not
concern them."
Seeing, however, that Mrs.- Crook's
own mind and heart were entirely filled
by Mrs. Crook herself, it was, perhaps,
as well that she should not occupy too
much of the attention and affection-of
her neighbors.
It is a poor, narrow heart, and a small
mind, that find self enough to fill them;
but these sorts are not unknown, and
Mrs. Crook was a sample of such.
When'she spoke of having been left
"comfortable" by her deceased part-
ner, there was a look of triumph and
satisfaction on her face, and a "No-
thanks-to-any-of-you" kind of tone in
her voice, that must have jarred on the
ear of a listener.
No one ever saw a tear in Mrs. Crook's
eye, or heard an expression of regret
for the loss of "Crook" himself. He
had been dead and out of-sight and-mind
almost these ten years past. He was
merely remembered as having done his
duty in leaving his widow "comfort-
able." People were left to speculate as
they chose about the amount repre-
sented- by the expression. It would
not have been good for the man or
woman who had ventured to ask a di-
rect question on the subject, but every-
body agreed that Mrs. Crook must have
something handsome. Surely "com-
fortable" means free from care, both
as regards to-day and to-morrow: not
only enough, but a little more, or else
anxiety might step in and spoil com-
fort. If Mrs. Crook had more than
enough, she took care not to give of
her abundance. Neither man, woman
nor child was ever the better for the
surplus, if such there were. One of
her favorite expressions was, "I don't
care for much neighboring; I prefer
keeping myself to myself."


































































SNOWFLAKES.


fi









"And you keep every thing else to
yourself,' muttered one who had vainly
tried to enlist her sympathy for another
who was in sickness and trouble.
Mrs. Crook had a pretty garden, well-
stocked with flowers, according to the
season. She was fond of working in
it, and might be seen there daily, with
her sun-bonnet on, snipping, tying and
tending her plants.
Children do so love flowers, and,
thank God, those who live in country
places have grand gardens to roam in,
free to all, and planted by His own
loving hand. But in town it is differ-
ent, and Mrs. Crook lived just out-
side one; far enough away from its
smoke to allow of successful garden-
ing, not too far to prevent little feet
from wandering thither from narrow
courts and alleys, to breathe a purer
air, and gaze, with longing eyes, at the
fair blossoms. It always irritated Mrs.
Crook to see these dirty, unkempt little
creatures clustering around her gate,
or peeping through her hedge.
"What do you want here?" she
would ask, sharply. "Get away with
you, or I will send for a policeman.
You are peeping about to see if you
;an pick up something; I know you
are. Be off, without any more telling!"
. The light of pleasure called into the
young eyes by the sight of the flowers
would fade away, and the hopeful look
leave the dirty faces, as Mrs. Crook's
harsh words fell on the children's ears.
But as they turned away with unwill-
ing, lingering steps, heads would be
stretched, and a wistful, longing gaze
cast upon the coveted flowers, until
they were quite lost to sight.
There was a tradition amongst the
youngsters that a very small child had
once called, through the bars of the
gate: "P'ease, Missis, do give me a
flower." Also that something in the
baby voice had so far moved Mrs. Je-
mima Crook, that she had stooped to
select one or two of the least faded
roses among all those just snipped
from the bushes, and giventhem to the


daring little blue eyes outside, with
this injunction, however:
"Mind you never come here asking
for flowers any more."
This report was long current among
the inhabitants of a city court, but it
needs confirmation.
Mrs. Crook objected to borrowers
also, and perhaps she was not so much
to be blamed for that. Most of us
who possess bookshelves, and once de-
lighted in seeing them well filled, look
sorrowfully at gaps made by borrow-
ers who have failed to return our treas-
ures. But domestic emergencies oc-
cur even in the best regulated families,
and neighborly help may be impera-
tively required. It may be a matter of
Christian duty and privilege too, to
lend both our goods and our personal
aid. Mrs. Crook did not think so.
Lending formed no part of her creed.
If other people believed in it, and liked
their household goods to travel up and
down the neighborhood, that was their
look-out, not hers -
"I never borrow, so why should I
lend?" asked Mrs. Crook. "Besides,
I am particular about my things. My
pans are kept as bright and clean as
new ones, and if my servant put them
on the shelves, as some people's ser-
vants replace theirs after using, she
would not be here long. No, thank
you. When I begin to borrow, I will
begin to lend, but not until then."
Mrs. Crook's sentiments were so well
known that, even in a case of sickness,
when a few spoonfuls of mustard were
needed for immediate use in poultices,
the messenger on the way to borrow it,
passed her door rather than risk a re-
fusal, whereby more time might be lost
than by going farther in the first in-
stance.
Many were the invitations Mrs. Crook
received to take part in the work of dif-
ferent societies. One lady asked her
to join the Dorcas meeting.
"You can sew so beautifully," she
said, "You would be a great acquisi.
tion to our little gathering.































































THE GREENWOOD










The compliment touched a tender
point. Mrs. Crook was proud of her
needlework, but to dedicate such skill
in sewing to making under-clothing for
the poorest of the poor: The idea was
monstrous!
Mrs. Crook answered civilly, that she
could not undertake to go backwards
and forwards to a room half a mile off.
It would be a waste of time. Besides,
though it was probably not the case in
that particular meeting, she had heard
that there was often a great deal of
gossip going on at such places. The
visitor was determined not to be of-
fended, and she replied, gently, that
there was no chance of gossip, for, af-
ter a certain time had been given to
the actual business of the meeting,
such as planning, cutting out, and ap-
portioning work, one of the ladies read,
whilst the rest sewed. "But," she
added, "if you are willing to help us a
little, and object to joining the meet-
ing at the room, perhaps you would
let me bring you something to be made
at home. There is always work for
every willing hand."
Then Mrs. Crook drew herself up and
said she did not feel inclined to take in
sewing. She had her own to do, and
did it without requiring assistance, and
she thought it was better to teach the
lower classes to depend upon them-
selves than to go about pampering poor
people and encouraging idleness, as
many persons were so fond of doing now-
a-days. No doubt they thought they
were doing good, but, for her part, she be-
lieved that in many cases they did harm.
The visitor could have told tales of
worn-out toilers, laboring almost night
and day to win bread for their children,
but unable to find either material for a
garment or time to make it. She could
have pleaded for the widow and the or-
phan, if there had seemed any feelings
to touch, any heart to stir. But Mrs.
Crook's hard words and looks repelled
her, and she went her way, after a mere
"Good-morning. I am sorry ycu can-
Bet see your way to help us.'


No chance of widows weeping for the
loss of Mrs. Crook, or telling of her
almsdeeds and good works, or showing
the coats and garments made for them
by her active fingers!
It was the same when some adven-
turous collector called upon Mrs. Crook
to solicit a subscription. She had al-
ways something to say against the ob-
ject for which money was asked. If it
were for the sufferers by an accident in
a coal mine or for the unemployed at a
time of trade depression:
"Why don't they insure their lives
like their betters Why don't they
save something, when they are getting
good wages? I am not going to en-
courage the thriftless, or help those
who might help themselves, if they
would think beforehand."
At length every one gave up trying
to enlist her services, or to obtain con-
tributions from her, for the support of
any good cause. And Mrs. Crook be-
stowed all her thoughts, her affections,
her time and her means, on the only
person she thought worthy of them all
-namely, Mrs. Crook herself.


AN EVENING SONG.

.BY COUSIN ANNIE.

Twilight dews are gathering,
The bright day's done;
Upon thy downy couch
Rest, little one.
Each tiny bird's hieing
Home to its nest;
-Each flower-head's nodding
Upon its breast.
Be still now, little heart,
Until the morrow
Brings again its share
Of joy and sorrow.
May angels round thy couch
Be ever nigh,
And over thy slumbers chaat
Their lullaby.





























































II fi~'


UyPINCI













































" BUT THEN."


It was a queer name for a little girl,
and it was not her real name-that was
Lizzie-but everybody called her "But
Then."
My real name is prettier, but then,
I like the other pretty well," she said,
nodding her short, brown curls merrily.
And that sentence shows just how she
came by her name.
If Willie complained that it was a


miserable, rainy day, and they couldn't
play out of doors, Lizzie assented
brightly,-
"Yes; but then, it is a real nice day
to fix our scrap-books."
When Kate fretted because they had
so far to walk to school, her little sis-
ter reminded her,-
"But then, it's all the way through the
woods, you *ow, al4 that's ever so


.
i~r
















































































AT THE PICNIC.


,,
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much nicer than walking on pavements
in a town."
When even patient Aunt Barbara
pined a little because the rooms in the
new house were so few and small com-
pared with their old home, a rosy face
was quietly lifted to hers with the sug-
gestion,-
"But then, little rooms are the best
to cuddle all up together in, don't you
think, Auntie?
"Better call her 'Little But Then,'
and have done with it," declared Bob,
half-vexed, half-laughing. "No matter
how bad any thing is, she is always
ready with her 'but then,' and some
kind of consolation on the end of it."
And so, though no one really in-
tended it, the new name began. There
were a- good many things that the
children missed in their new home.
Money could have bought them even
there; but if the money had not gone
first, their father would scarcely have
thought it necessary to leave his old
home. They had done what was best
under the circumstances; still the boys
felt rather inclined to grumble about it
one winter morning when they were
starting off to the village on an errand.
"Just look at all the snow going to
waste, without our having a chance to
enjoy it," said Will; "and the ice too-
all because we couldn't bring our sleds
with us when we moved."
"But then, you might make one your-
self, you know. It wouldn't be quite so
pretty, but it would be just as good,"
s i,..--..l1 Litt'e But Then.
"Exactly what I mean to do as sdon
as I get money enough.to buy two or
three boards; but I haven't even that
yet, and the winter is nearly half gone."
"If we only had a sled to-day, Sis
could ride, and we could go on the.
river," said Bob. "It's just as near
that way, and we could go faster."
"It is a pity," admitted the little girl.
"But then, I've thought of something
-that old chair in the shed! If we
turned it down, its back would be al-
most like runners, and so--"


"Hurrah! that's the very thing!"
interrupted the boys; and the old chair
was dragged out in a twinkling, and
carried down to the river. Then away
went the merry party, laughing and
shouting, on the smooth road between
the snowy hills, while Gyp followed,
frisking and barking, and seeming to
enjoy the fun as much as any of them.
"Now we'll draw our sled up here,
close under the bank, where nobody
will see it, and leave it while we go up
to the store," said Bob, when they had
reached the village.
Their errand was soon done, and the
children ready to return; but as they
set forth Will pointed to a dark spot a
little way out on the ice.
What is that? It looks like a great
bundle of clothes."
It was a bundle that moved and
moaned as they drew near, and proved
to be a girl, a little bigger than Lizzie.
She looked up when they questioned
her, though her face was pale with
pain.
"I slipped and fell on the ice," she
explained, "and I'm afraid I've broken
my leg, for it is all twisted under me,
and I can't move it or get up. I live in
the village. That's my father's.carpen-
ter shop where you see the sign. -I
could see it all the time, and yet I was
afraid I'd freeze here before any one
saw me. Oh dear! it doesn't seem as
if I could lie here while you go for my
father."
"Why, you needn't," began Bob;
but the girl shook her head.
"I can't walk a step, and you two are
not strong enough to carry me all the
way. You'd let me fall, or you'd have
to keep stopping to rest; and putting
me down and taking me up again would
almost kill me."
"Oh, but we'll only lift you into the
chair, just as carefully as we can, then
we can carry you easy enough," said
Will.
And in that way the poor girl was
borne safely home; and the children
lingered long enough to bring the sur-




































































THE -CAT.





































''?'~ A


,, .
_ ,' '


"BUT THEN, IT'S ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE WOODS, YOU KNOW,"


toon and hear his verdict, that Young
ones don't mind much being broken,
and she will soon be about again, as
well as ever."
"' But I don't see how you happened
to have a chair so handy," said her
father to the boys. And when they ex-


plained that they were using it for a
sled, he said, with a significant nod of
his head,-"Your sled, was it? Well,
I shall be surprised if my shop does
not turn you out a better sled than
that, just by way of thanks -for your
kindness."


--
-*




















































- -


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No-V


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S -OMMER


WILL YOU RIDE?


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"But then, wasn't it good that it was
only the old chair that we had to-day ?"
asked Little But Then, as she told
the story to Aunt Barbara at home.
"Oh Auntie, I had the nicest kind of a
time!"
"I believe you had," answered Aunt
EIrbara, smiling; "for a brave, sunny
spirit, that never frets over what it has
not, but always makes the best of what
it has where it is, is sure to have a good
time. It does not need to wait for it to
come-it has a factory for making it."








1J 11. V I X 11: 11 11 1
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,i.,









-The following is an Arabic proverb
taken from the mouth of an Oriental:
"Men are four. i. He who knows not,
and knows not he knows not. He is
a fool; shun him. 2. He who knows
not, and knows he knows not. He is
simple; teach him. 3. He who knows,
and knows not he knows. He is asleep;
wake him. 4. He who knows, and
knows he knows. He is wise; follow
him."
-.-,,,-- -v -K, ,--














Bim"


WHAT THE SNAIL SAID.

"You little chicks, tho' you peck at
my dress,
I will not get angry at that;
I know you would gobble me up if you
could,
As quick as a worm or a gnat."

"Say, little snail, you had better go on,
They may try the same trick upon
you.
"No, no," said the snail, with his hard
coat of mail,
"I don't care a rush if they do.

"Little girl, there's no harm to cause
me alarm,
I'll sit here and watch them a spell,
But as soon as they pounce, I'll cheat
them at once,
By getting right into my shell."

"But listen, wise snail, the old hen in
the coop
Has her eye very closely on you;
And if she gets out, it may put you
about,
Now mind, what I tell you is true."

"But dear little girl, she is fast in her
house;
No, no, she can't touch me, no, no.
But if that respectable fowl should get
out,
Oho!" said the snail, "Oho I"
































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LAVINIA.


II.&& .r,







ONLY NOW AND THEN.


Think it no excuse, boys,
Merging into men,
That you do a wrong act
"Only now and then."
Better to be careful
As you go along,
If you would be manly,
Capable and strong.



Many a wretched sot, boys,
That one daily meets
Drinking from the beer-kegs,
Living in the streets,
Or at best, in quarters
Worse than any pen,
Once was dressed in broadcloth
Drinking now and then.



When you have a habit
That is wrong, you know,
Knock it off at once, lads,
With a sudden blow.
Think it no excuse, boys,
Merging into men,
That you do a wrong act
Only now and then."


A SERPENT AMONG THE
BOOKS.


One day, a gentleman in India went
into his library and took down a book
from the shelves. As he did so, he
felt a slight pain in his finger, like the
prick of a pin. He thought that a pin
had been stuck, by some careless per-
son, in the cover of the book. But soon
his finger began to swell, then his arm,
and then his whole body, and in a few
days he died. It was not a pin among
the books, but a small and deadly ser-
pent.
There are many serpents among the
books now-a-days ; they nestle in the
foliage of some of our most fascinating
literature ; they coil around the flowers
whose perfume intoxicates the senses.
People read and are charmed by the
plot of the story, and the skill with
which the characters are sculptured or
grouped, by the gorgeousness of the
wood-painting, and hardly feel the pin-
prick of the evil that is insinuated.
But it stings and poisons.
Let us watch against the serpents
and read only that which is healthy,
instructive and profitable.





"LITTLE MOTHER."


liV JULIA HUNT 1MOiREHOUSE.


It was Judge Bellow's big, fine house,
that stood on the corner by the park.
Every body knew that, but every body
did not know that the one little girl
who lived in that house was restless
and unhappy and often cross.
"Why do you roam about so, Nell ?
Why don't you settle down to some-
































































A GAME OF TENNIS.










thing ?." her mother asked, one bright,
spring day.
Oh, 1 am sick of every thing. I
have read all my books, and I hate my
piano. The croquet isn't up, and there
is nobody to play with me, if it was."
"Why don't you find some kind of
work to do ?"
"That is just -the trouble. There's
nothing that needs to be done; ser-
vants for every thing; and what does
crocheting amount to, and plastering
some little daubs of paint on some
plush Why, I believe that little Dutch
girl that sells things out of her big
basket, on our corner, every morning,
is a good deal happier than I am. I
mean to ask her some time what makes
her so."

*
A few weeks more and the hot sum-
mer came on, and Nell missed the little
Dutch girl on the corner. It really.
worried her that the bright, womanly
face did not come any more, but she
supposed she had moved to 'a better
stand or perhaps left the-city.
One morning Nell took a walk with
her teacher; a lolg walk, for they
found themselves outside the city,
where there were open fields and every
house had green grass and trees close
around it.
Nhat a. little, little house! That
one with the woodbine all over it-and
I do believe-yes, it really is my little
Dutch girl s'IrLbl.inM the steps," and
away she bounded and was soon beside
the little worker.
Oh I'm so glad to find you again!
Why don't you come to our corner any
more? "
"Baby's been sick a long, good
time," explained Lena, wipingher hands
on her apron. '"Wont you ladies please
to walk in, if you please, ma'am "
It was a queer little figure that
showed them into the cool, clean room ;
short and broad and dumpy. Her
shoes were coarse, her dress of faded


black, with a white kerchief at the
neck, so like an old woman. Her face
too, was short and broad; her nose was
very short and her eyes very narrow.
So you see she was not pretty, but her
face was all love and sunshine. She
sat down on a low stool and took up
the baby in such a dear, motherly way,
smoothing its hair and dress and kiss-
ing it softly.
You don't mean that you live here
all alone ?" asked Nell,
Oh, no; there is Hans and baby
and me, and there is old Mrs. Price m
the other part."
"But your father and mother ? "
"Mother died a year ago. Oh, she
was one such good mother, but baby
came in her place. Baby looks like
mother, and now I have to be her little
mother, you see," and she set the little
dumpling out upon her knee, with such
pride and tenderness.
"And your father? "
The little Dutch girl dropped her
head and answered very low, Father
has been gone a long time. They say
he is shut up somewhere. He don't
come home any more."
"Oh, how very dreadful! I don't'
see where you get money to buy things
with."
"Hans is fifteen and works in a
shop. He gets some money, and he
will get a good deal, by-and-by. The
rest I get from the flowers. You see
I raise them myself, mostly."
But do you get enough for clothes
and playthings, and do you always
have enough to eat ?" persisted Nell.
"I don't have any clothes. I make
over mother's. We have Kitty for
playthings. Enough to eat? Baby
always has enough, don't she, lovie ?
cuddling her up close.
A new world was opening up to Nell.
"Excuse me, but don't you have any
pleasure trips, or birthday parties, or
Christmas ?"
"No; I don't just know what those
things are, but we have nice beef and
apples for dinner on Christmas."
















I*


~' :


FRESHENING DOLLY'S COMPLEXION.








"And are you always happy as you
seem-really happy ?
The "little mother" opened her
eyes wide in wonder. "Why, of course.
What else should we be ? Mother al-
ways told us it was wicked to be cross,
and that we must not fret much, even
over her going away to heaven."
Nell did some hard thinking on her
way home, and being a sensible little
girl, she made up her mind that one
way to be happy is to be busy, and not
-only busy, but useful, and she set about
the new way in earnest.
She learned that it is possible to be
unselfish and happy any where; she in
her wealthy home, and the "little
mother" in her one room, with her
baby and her flowers.



LITTLE SCATTER.

MRS. JEANE A. WARD.

She was her mother's darling, and
a very good little girl in most things.
With her yellow hair, big blue eyes
and rosy cheeks; in the pretty blue
dress and red sash; nice little slip-
pers on her plump feet, she made the
whole house lively and bright, and
sometimes she made plenty of work
for every one in it, too, for she was a
terrible Nelly to scatter playthings.
The dolly would be on the chair, her
torn picture-books over the floor, her'
ball kicking about everywhere, and
her blocks any where.
What'could mother do with such a
girl ? When she would talk to her,
Nelly would promise not to do so
any more, and would pick up the dolly
and the pictures, and the ball and the
blocks, and her other toys, and take
them to her own corner play-house and
fix them all in order, and be real good
for a little while.
But the 'real good' would last only


a little while and then out all would
come again, and Little Scatter would
have them around just as before.
That is the way she came to be given
that name, and she was old enough to
know she well deserved it, and to be
ashamed of it; yet she could no:
break off the bad habit.
She had a kind, good mother, who
saw that she would have to, in some
way, cure her little daughter of such
slovenly habits or else she would grow
up to be a very careless, untidy woman,
and the mother was wise enough to
know that it is more easy to correct
such matters when children are young
than when they grow older.
She did not want to punish Nelly
severely, and so, whenever Little Scat-
ter had gotten all her toys over the
floor, tables, sofa and chairs, mamma
would call her and say:
Now, Nelly, every thing you have
is lying about, it is time for my Little
Scatter to get gathered in close ;" and
then Miss Nelly would have to gc
close to the wall and be shut in by -
chair and stand there until mamma's
watch said half an hour had passed.
This was very hard on a little girl that
loved to run around so much as Nelly
did, and though she knew she deserved
all the punishment, yet she used to beg
very hard and promise, but she always
had to stay the full time; then she
would come out, get her mamma's kiss
and forgiveness, pick up her toys and
be happy.
It did not take many such punish-
ments before Nelly began to think
before she acted so carelessly, and in
a short time she was almost as neat
about such matters as she was sweet
and good in every thing else. If ever
there were a few of her things lying
about, mamma had only to call her
'Little Scatter,' to make her remem-
ber, and so hard did she try to correct
herself of this bad habit that in a few
months she and those about heralmost
forgot that she had ever been known
by such an untidy name.





























































.GRANDMOTHER'S CLOCK.













GRANDMOTHER'S CLOCK.



It stands in the corner of Grandma's room;
From the ceiling it reaches the floor;
"Tick-tock," it keeps saying the whole day long,
"Tick-tock," and nothing more.
Grandma says the clock is old, like herself;
But dear Grandma is wrinkled and gray,
While the face of the clock is smooth as my hand,
And painted with flowers so gay!
Backwards and forwards, this way and that,
You can see the big pendulum rock:
"Tick-tock," it keeps saying the whole day long,
"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!"
The clock never sleeps, and its hands never rest
As they slowly go moving around;
And it strikes the hours with a ding, ding, ding,
Ding, ding, and a whirring sound.
I wonder if this is the same old clock
That the mousie ran up in the night,
And played hide-and-seek till the clock struck one,
And then ran down in a fright.
Backwards and forwards, this way and that,
You can see tlh big pendulum rock;
"Tick-tock," it keeps saying the whole day long,
"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!"
NELLIE M. GARABRANT.
















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