Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Painting and painters
 City of Aztecs
 City of Rouen - Genius of...
 Styles of conversation
 Boys who succeed
 The old oaken bucket
 Sunrise and sunset - Cropsey
 Rise higher - The Arab's answer...
 By the sea - Mothers
 Mamma - Minnie
 Fun for one - Zoe and her friends...
 Song of the river
 Song - the owl
 Playing horse
 They won't trouble you long
 Fair Ines
 Boys wanted - Madame Fox and Reynard...
 Life's question - Another fox story...
 Little Jamie - A boy's letter
 The healthfulness of mirth
 Try - Thoughtlessness of youth...
 Attempting the impossible
 Monkey moonshine - I dare not -...
 Self-help - Daddy Long-legs
 The new sled - Accuracy
 A brave soldier
 The sand-man - Read this, boys
 Sleepy-land - Puff
 Before the conflict
 Our little ones
 The pillow fight - How to behave...
 Little Joe's ride - The story of...
 Roy and Wonder
 Piggy's spoon - Willie's gener...
 Little bird - Sunshine
 The scholars of flipperty...
 A little mistake - A river...
 The cross-patch - A cup of tea
 The lark - Boy blue and his...
 The pin and the needle - The...
 The village blacksmith
 The Pop family - Justice
 Back Cover

Title: Sunshine for little children
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00079889/00001
 Material Information
Title: Sunshine for little children
Alternate Title: Premium number Sunshine
Physical Description: 48, 1 p. : ill., (some col.) ; 33 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Smythe, J. Henry ( Editor )
Greenaway, Kate, 1846-1901 ( Illustrator )
Cox, Albert Scott, b. 1863 ( Illustrator )
Davis, John Philip, 1784-1862 ( Engraver )
Whymper, Josiah Wood, 1813-1903 ( Engraver )
Sunshine Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: Sunshine Publishing Company
Place of Publication: Philadelphia
Publication Date: c1890, c1888
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 -- 1890   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1890   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1890   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1890
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
Statement of Responsibility: with original illustrations on wood by eminent artists.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements follow text.
General Note: "Copyrighted 1890, by S.P. Co."--Cover ill.
General Note: "Edited by the Rev. J. Henry Smythe."--P. 4 of cover.
General Note: Some illustrations engraved by Whymper and J. P. Davis after Kate Greenaway and A. S. Cox.
General Note: Glazed pictorial boards, gilt maroon endpapers.
General Note: Frontispiece printed in colors.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00079889
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223571
notis - ALG3821
oclc - 37687067

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
        Front Cover 3
    Front Matter
        Front Matter
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Painting and painters
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
    City of Aztecs
        Page 4
    City of Rouen - Genius of youth
        Page 5
    Styles of conversation
        Page 6
    Boys who succeed
        Page 7
    The old oaken bucket
        Page 8
        Page 9
    Sunrise and sunset - Cropsey
        Page 10
    Rise higher - The Arab's answer - Our century
        Page 11
    By the sea - Mothers
        Page 12
    Mamma - Minnie
        Page 13
    Fun for one - Zoe and her friends - Tom's gold dollar
        Page 14
    Song of the river
        Page 15
    Song - the owl
        Page 16
    Playing horse
        Page 17
    They won't trouble you long
        Page 18
    Fair Ines
        Page 19
    Boys wanted - Madame Fox and Reynard - Bad company
        Page 20
    Life's question - Another fox story - Charlie's story
        Page 21
    Little Jamie - A boy's letter
        Page 22
    The healthfulness of mirth
        Page 23
    Try - Thoughtlessness of youth - Dixie's selfishness
        Page 24
    Attempting the impossible
        Page 25
    Monkey moonshine - I dare not - Lift a little - Jack's chat with the little folks
        Page 26
    Self-help - Daddy Long-legs
        Page 27
    The new sled - Accuracy
        Page 28
    A brave soldier
        Page 29
    The sand-man - Read this, boys
        Page 30
    Sleepy-land - Puff
        Page 31
        Page 32
    Before the conflict
        Page 33
    Our little ones
        Page 34
    The pillow fight - How to behave at the table
        Page 35
    Little Joe's ride - The story of the flowers
        Page 36
    Roy and Wonder
        Page 37
        Page 38
    Piggy's spoon - Willie's generosity
        Page 39
    Little bird - Sunshine
        Page 40
    The scholars of flipperty school
        Page 41
    A little mistake - A river of tears
        Page 42
    The cross-patch - A cup of tea
        Page 43
    The lark - Boy blue and his gun
        Page 44
    The pin and the needle - The purse
        Page 45
    The village blacksmith
        Page 46
        Page 47
    The Pop family - Justice
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
Full Text

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Aj"'. ~' r

-.Coin r~g,.j* 83. 5 P



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402, 404 & 406 Race Street


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Off the coast at sunrise.


THERE is every reason to believe that the art of painting But with the incursions of the northern barbarians, and
was carried to a high degree of perfection by the the closing in of the dark ages, all art culture absolutely
ancient Greeks. We cannot judge died out, and until about the year 1300
of this by any specimen paintings that painting was one of the lost arts. It
have been preserved, for these are had to be rediscovered and worked
things that do not endure. But the .' up again to perfection by slow and
ancient writers say that Grecian art toilsome labors, as much as if it had
was equally advanced in painting and M- never existed. We can best point out
in sculpture; and in regard to the this growth by sketching, though ever
latter, there have been found in late I- so briefly, the lives and work of those
years, buried in the debris of cities and -' who have been laborers in this field;
villas, statues and groups in marble and first we must mention:
that would substantiate the most ex- GIOTTO.-Giotto di Bordone was
travagant claims. We are authorized born near Florence, in 1276. His
to conclude, therefore, that their claims occupation as a boy was to tend sheep.
in regard to painting were not exag- I When ten years old he was noticed
gerated. In further corroboration, sketching one of his flock on a stone.
there is the remarkable, almost miracu- B- I His genius was appreciated, and kind
lous, preservation of the frescoes of B patrons gave him instruction in all
Pompeii. This was a small provincial that was then known of the art. It
town of Italy, a place little likely to was not long before he led all his
have even a fair sample of ancient art; our lite sailor, instructors. He lived in the time of
yet there have been opened up in this the poet Dante, and was his friend
buried city, frescoes and wall paintings that have been studies and companion. Each one has, in his own way, made the
and models for painters from the day they were discovered, portrait of the other; and both pictures are of the kind that


are immortal. When he died in Florence, in 1336, and was
buried with great pomp in the Cathedral, it was recognized
that the poor shepherd boy had become a power and leader

Disciples in the storm, in the portico of St. Peter's, is his.
His works were very numerous, and his pupils were very
many; so that his influence was carried down for years.

Old Friends Are Best. From a Painting by Ida Waugh.

among men. He was without question the father of painting
and of the mosaic art. Some of the oldest frescoes in the
Campo Santo of Pisa are by his hand. The mosaic of the

Florence, in 1474, was from an influential family, and
received all the advantages of education. His marvelous


talent for both painting and sculpture was early developed.
When it is considered that, throughout his long life of
nearly ninety years, he was patient, laborious, virtuous and
indefatigable, his great influence on his age, on the arts, and
on all who came after him, is easily accounted for. During
the last twenty years of his life he was the architect of St.
Peter's Church; he made all the plans, but did not live to
see it completed. He died in Rome in 1564; his body was
taken to Florence and buried with unusual honors in- the
church of Santa Croce. Sculpture seemed to have been
his preference, and numerous works, especially his "David" in
Florence, and his "Moses" in Rome, attest for him the highest

the art before he was ten years old, and at sixteen he was
filling orders. He entered the Vatican at twenty-five and
died twelve years after. His time was short; but he accom-
plished a glorious work and left an undying name. He was
unquestionably the first of the Italian painters, and withal
so gentle and lovely in his character as to make only friends
wherever he went. As Vasari said of him, He was full
of the might of a noble nature." He was buried; according
to his own singular desire, in the Pantheon of Rome, and
with magnificent ceremonies. The power of Raphael as a
painter lay in his perfect mastery of the passions. There
was no shade of emotion or thought that he could not por-

The golden. gleams come stealing from the shadow of the trees.

place in the art. It was with great reluctance that he under-
took the decoration of the Sistine Chapel. The ceiling,
which is the most complete and wonderful series of Biblical
illustrations that ever was painted, was accomplished by his
own hand alone in twenty months, and when the artist was
thirty-five years old. The "Last Judgment" was executed
twenty years later, and was the labor of many years. These
monuments of painting have placed the name of Michael
Angelo at the head of the list of perspective painters.
RAPHAEIL.-Raphael Santi was born at Urbino, a city
on the opposite side of Italy from Florence, in 1483, and
died in Rome in 1520. Like nearly ail the geniuses of
painting he developed very early, his father teaching him in

tray on his canvas. Every face and every scene tells its
own story better than words can express it. Raphael was
called by his countrymen II Divinio, "The Divine," and
was ranked then, as he is ranked now, by almost universal
opinion, the greatest of painters. Among his many works
of excellence may be mentioned "The Coronation of the
Virgin" and the "St. Catharine." The Sistine Madonna
at Dresden, is a marvel of spiritual power and sublimity,
but the Transfiguration of Christ is now thought to be
the finest painting in the world. It was unfinished when
Raphael died, and when they laid out his body in state,
they placed this picture, such as it was, beside it, as the
saddest evidence of the untimely work that death had made



THE Aztecs believed in one supreme invisible creator
of all things, the ruler of the universe, named Taotl
-a belief, it is conjectured, not native to them, but derived
from their predecessors, the Toltecs. Under this supreme
being stood thirteen chief and two hundred inferior
divinities, each of whom had his sacred day and festival.
At their head was the patron god of the Aztecs, the frightful
Huitzilopochtli, the Mexican Mars. His temples were the
most splendid and imposing; in every city of the empire


as they were by -years of warfare, sickened at the sight,
though no doubt their cupidity was also stirred by the
treasure so lavishly displayed, and which afterwards so
amply repaid them for their invasion of this land of gold.
The smell of the place, we are told, was like that of the
slaughter-house. To supply victims for these sacrifices the
emperors made war on all the neighboring and subsidiary
states, or, in case of revolt, in any city of their dominions,
and levied a certain* number of men, women and children

The Sacrificial Stone in the City of Mexieo.

his altars were drenched with the blood of human sacrifice.
Cortes and his companions were permitted by Montezuma
to enter that in the City of Mexico, and to behold the
god himself. He had a broad face, wide mouth and terrible
eyes. He was covered with gold, pearls and precious
stones, and was girt about with golden serpents. On his
neck-a fitting ornament-were the faces of men wrought
in silver, and their hearts in gold. Close by were braziers
with incense, and on the braziers three real hearts of men
who had that day been sacrificed. The Spaniards, hardened

by way of indemnity. The victims were borne, in triumphal
processions and to the sound of music, to the summit of the
great temples, where the priests, in sight of assembled
crowds, bound them to the sacrificial stone, and opening
the breast, tore from it the bleeding heart, which was either
laid before the image of their gods or eaten by the wor-
shipers, after having been carefully cut up and mixed with
maize. In the years immediately preceding the Spanish
conquest, not less than 20,000 victims were annually immo-
lated. These atrocities were incongruously blended with


milder forms of worship, in which fruits, flowers and perfumes
were offered up amid joyous outbursts of song and dance.
According to their mythology, Taotl, who delighted in these
purer sacrifices, had once reigned in Anahuac (a name which
at first probably applied only to the country in the immediate
vicinity of the capital, though afterwards it was applied to
the whole Aztec empire), in the golden age of the world,
but being obliged, from some unexplained cause, to retire
from earth, he departed by way of the Mexican Gulf,
promising to return. This tradition accelerated the success
of the Spaniards, whose light skins and long, dark hair and
beards were regarded as evi-
dences of their affinity with the
long-looked-for divinity. The
Mexican priesthood formed
a rich and powerful order of
the state, and were so numerous
that Cortes found as many as
5000 attached to the great
temple of Mexico. The edu-
cation of the young of both
sexes remained till the age of
puberty in the hands of the
priests and priestesses; and
the sacerdotal class were thus
able to exercise a widely diffused
influence, which, under the
later rulers, was almost equal
to that of the emperor himself.
The women shared in all the
occupations of the men, and
were taught, like them, the arts
of reading, writing, ciphering,
singing in chorus, dancing, etc.,
and even initiated in the secrets.
of astronomy and astrology.


I HAD not been in Rouen
ten minutes before I found
myself standing in front of
the "Great Clock Tower," a The "Grea
simple Gothic structure sup-
posed to have been erected in the last years of the four-
teenth century. I sat down in a corner, on the edge of a
two-wheeled cart standing conveniently near, and tried to
fancy how the venerable tower looked about the time that
Columbus was discovering America. Even at that day,
which to a good American seems to savor of remote
antiquity, the clock tower had heard the hours chimed
forth for a full century, and had never missed a curfew.
In its belfry tower hangs a bell which, according to tradi-
tion, was made out of pieces of silver money contributed
for its erection. It hangs in a curious belfry which is

t Clo

surrounded with an iron balustrade and surmounted by a
leaden dome. At nine o'clock every evening this bell
sounds the curfew, as it did in the good old times, but the
Rouennais do not trouble themselves to obey its prudent
The Logis des Caradas, a picture of which appears on
page 6, is a mighty, rambling mass of houses, older than any
of our national buildings in America-older even, by a hun-
dred years, than the church at Jamestown in Virginia. Cara-
das Dequesne, who was bailiff of Rouen in 1409, built it,
and was right in thinking that it would prove a grand monu-
ment to perpetuate his family
name. He caused its sprawl-
ing front to be enriched with
Gothic ornaments, and its
peaked towers and gables to be
fantastically sculptured. Truly
the shadows of the past blacken
these ancient doorways and
hover above these old-fashioned
windows. The Logis des Cara-
Sbd das impressed me more pow-
erfully than the Cathedral, I
think. If Rouen were fortu-
nate enough to possess a Dick-
ens, with what charming images
would he have lightened up
the gloom that now seems to
environ this ancient collection
of dwellings! What legends,
what fantastic tales of the dead
and. gone, what splendid his-
tory-pictures might have been
expected! But, instead of
reading such things, modern
Rouen is given over to the bale-
ful influence of the Parisfu'eille-
ton, from which may Heaven
preserve it and us! Old Cara-
das' monumental pile seems
Likely to stand for a century or
two more, unless the munici-
pality in a fit of irreverence
ck Tower." allows it to be cleared away, or
should it strike the fancy of
some western showman, with an eye for the antique, it
might be safely taken down and brought over to this
country as a most interesting relic of the Columbian age,
to be exhibited at our great World's Fair in Chicago.


LMOST everything that is great has been done by youth.
fr For life in general there is but one decree. Youth is
a blunder; manhood a struggle; old age a regret. Do not
suppose that I hold that youth is genius; all that is genius,


when young, is divine. Why, the greatest captains of
ancient and modern times both conquered Italy at five-and-
twenty! Youth, extreme youth,. overthrew the Persian
empire. Don John of Austria won Lepanto at twenty-five
-the greatest battle of modern times-had it not been for
the jealousy of Philip, the next year he would have been
emperor of Mauritania. Gaston de Foix was only twenty-
two when he stood a victor on the plain of Ravenna.
Everyone remembers Cond6 and Recroy at the same age.
Gustavus Adolphus died at thirty-eight. Look at his cap-
tains: that wonderful duke of Weimar, only thirty-sixwhen

Logis des Caradar.

he died; Banier himself, after all his miracles, died at forty-
five; Cortes was little more than thirty when he gazed upon
the golden cupolas of Mexico. When Maurice of Saxony
died at thirty-two, all Europe acknowledged the loss of the
greatest captain and the profoundest statesman of the age.
Then there is Nelson, Clive-but these are warriors, and
perhaps you may think there are greater things than war.
I do not; I worship the Lord of hosts. But take the most
illustrious achievements of civil prudence. Innocent III.,
the greatest of the popes, was the despot of Christendom at
thirty-seven. John de Medici was a cardinal at fifteen, and,
Guiccardini tells us, baffled with his statecraft Ferdinand

of Aragon himself; he was pope as Leo X. at thirty-seven.
Luther robbed even him of his richest province at thirty-five.
Take Ignatius Loyola and John Wesley; they worked with
young brains. Ignatius was only thirty when he made his
pilgrimage and wrote the "Spiritual Exercises." Pascal
wrote a great work at sixteen-the greatest of Frenchmen,
and died at thirty-seven.
Ah! that fatal thirty-seven, which reminds me of Byron,
greater even as a man than a writer. Was it experience that
guided the pencil of Raphael, when he painted the palaces
of Rome? He died, too, at thirty-seven. Richelieu was
secretary of state at thirty-one. Well, then, there are
Bolingbroke and Pitt, both ministers before other men leave
cricket. Grotius was in great practice at seventeen, and
attorney-general at twenty-four. And Acquaviva-Acqua-
viva was general of the Jesuits, ruled every cabinet in
Europe, and colonized America, before he was thirty-seven.
What a career! It is needless to multiply instances. The
history of heroes is the history of youth.


TASSO'S conversation was neither gay nor brilliant
Dante was either taciturn or satirical. Butler was
sullen or biting. Gray seldom talked or smiled. Hogarth
and Swift were very absent minded in company. Milton
was unsociable, and even irritable, when pressed into con-
versation. Kirwan, though copious and eloquent in public
addresses, was meagre and dull in colloquial discourse.
Virgil was heavy in conversation. La Fontaine appeared
heavy, coarse and stupid; he could not speak and describe
what he had just seen; but then he was the model of poetry.
Chaucer's silence was more agreeable than his conversation.
Dryden's conversation was slow and dull, his humor satur-
nine and reserved. Corneille in conversation was so insipid
that he never failed in wearying: he did not even speak
correctly that language of which he was such a master.
Ben Jonson used to sit silent in company, and suck his
wine and their humors. Southey was stiff, sedate, and
wrapped up in asceticism. Addison was good company
with his intimate friends, but in mixed company he pre-
served his dignity by a stiff and reserved silence. Fox, in
conversation, never flagged; his animation and variety were
inexhaustible. Dr. Bentley was loquacious. Grotius was
talkative. Goldsmith wrote like an angel, and talked like
poor Poll. Burke was eminently entertaining, enthusiastic,
and interesting in conversation. Curran was a convivial
deity; he soared into every region, and was at home in all.
Dr. Birch dreaded a pen as he did a torpedo; but he could
talk like running water. Dr. Johnson wrote monotonously
and ponderously, but in conversation his words were close
and sinewy; and if his pistol missed fire, he knocked down
his antagonist with the butt of it. Coleridge, in his conver-
sation, was full of acuteness and originality.



THE head of a large business firm in Boston, who was
noted for his keenness in discerning character, was
seated at his desk one day, when a young Irish lad came

up, took off his straw
want a boy, sir ?"
I did not a min-
ute ago. But I do
now, and you are the
boy," said Mr. J.
He said afterward
that he was com-
pletely captured by
the honest, frank, all-
alive face before him.
The boy entered his
service, rose to be
confidential clerk,
and is now a suc-
cessful merchant.
Thirty years ago
Mr. H., a nursery-
man in New York
State, left home for
a day or two. It was
rainy weather, and
not the season for
sales, but a customer
arrived from a dis-
tance, tied up his
horse and went into
the kitchen ,pf the
farmhouse, where
two lads were crack-
ing nuts.
"Is Mr. H. at
"No, sir," said
the eldest, Joe, ham-
mering at a nut.
"When will he
be back?"
"Dunno, sir.
Mebbe not for a
week or so."
The other boy,
Jem, jumped up and
followed the man
out. "The men are
not here, but I can sh

hat and, smiling, said, "Do you


ow you the stock," he said, with

such a bright, courteous manner that the stranger, who
was a little irritated, stopped and followed him through
the nursery, examined the trees, and left his order.
"You have sold the largest bill that I have had this

season, Jem," his father, greatly pleased, said to him on
his return.
"I'm sure," said Joe, "I'm as willing to help as Jem,
if I'd thought in time."
A few years afterward, these two boys were left by their
father's failure and death with but two or three hundred
dollars each. Joe
S- _bought an acre or
two near home. He
S- has worked hard,
but is still a poor,
discontented man.
if Jem bought an im-
migrant's ticket to
Colorado, hired as a
:--- ... f __-- .: --?_ o: :
cattle driver for a
S- couple of years, with
his wages bought
'land at forty cents an
acre, built himself

house, and married.
His herds of cattle
are numbered by the
thousand, his land
has been cut up for
town lots, and he is
ranked as one of the
wealthiest men in
the State.
"I might have
done like Jem," his
brother said, lately,
"if I'd thought in
time. There's as
good stuff in me as
in him."
"There's as good
stuff in that loaf of
bread as in any I
ever made," said his
wife, "but nobody
can eat it. There's
not enough yeast in
it." The retort,
though disagreeable,
was true. The quick,
wide-awake energy
which acts as leaven

waning. in a character is
partly natural. But
it can be inculcated by parents and acquired by a boy if
he chooses to keep his eyes open, and to act as promptly
and boldly in every emergency. Do the duty that lies
nearest to you, and do it well, is good advice, and, if fol-
lowed, will fit the doer of the deed for all the duties of life.



-~;~=-~--~- -~-~"- -~~-r-~-~-~:_~;-~_~;~;~-
--- ---=--~ ~T~-~----~-~.



How dear to this heart are the scenes of my
When fond recollection presents them to
view !
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled
And every loved spot which my infancy
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that
stood by it,
The bridge, and the rock where the cata-
ract fell,

The cot of my father, the dairy-house
nigh it,
And e'en the rude bucket which hung
in the well-
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound
The moss-covered bucket which hung
in the well.
That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a
For often at noon, when returned from
the field,


As poised on the curb it inclined
to my lips!
Not a full blushing goblet could
tempt me to leave it,
Though filled with the nectar that
Jupiter sips.
And now far removed from the
loved habitation,
The tear of regret will intru-
sively swell,
As fancy reverts to my father's
And sighs for the bucket which
hangs in the well-
The old oaken bucket, the iron-
C- bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket which
hangs in the well

I found it the source of an exquisite
The purest and sweetest that nature !177
can yield.
How ardent I seized it, with hands
that were glowing,
And quick to the white-pebbled bot-
tom it fell;
Then soon, with the emblem of truth -
And dripping with coolness, it rose
from the well-
The old oaken- bucket, the iron-bound
bucket, -
The moss-covered bucket arose from ._.-. _..
the well. -
How sweet from the green mossy brim m- O
to receive it.



I saw two clouds at morning,
Tinged with the rising sun;
And in the dawn they floated on
And mingled into one:
I thought that morning cloud was blest,
It moved so sweetly to the west.
I saw two summer currents
Flow smoothly to their meeting,
And join their course, with silent force,
In peace each other greeting:
Calm was their course through banks of green,
While dimpling eddies played between.

ity, however, it took several years to convince English
critics, and they hardly believed in it fully until they saw a
large picture of his "Autumn on the Hudson River." The
painter selected a point of view not far from Cornwall, where
the river looks almost like a lake. The lofty hills which
here border the river made an impressive frame for the
scene, and on their sides, as on an undulating foreground
of forest and wood, were lavished, with the prodigal mag-
nificence of the season, all the richest tints of an American
October. If English critics hesitated at first to concede
that these bright tints were done with precision and local
truth, they quickly appreciated the elegance and beauty of
the composition-the refined feeling for aerial tenderness
and light and repose throughout, the admirable, technical

The fale descending year, yet pleasing still.


AT Cropsey's American autumn scenes Englishmen at first
shook their heads. These brilliant and-varied colors-
these maples of a vivid scarlet, from the highest to the low-
est leaf--these, chestnuts, looking as though there had
been flung over them cloth of gold-these oaks, dyed with
Tyrian purple-all these, they said, did credit to Mr. Crop-
sey's imagination and his well-furnished color-box; but
there was nothing like that ever to be seen in Great Britain,
and they were not ready to admit that it was a true picture
of anything to be seen in America. Still, every year, the
number of Englishmen who passed October in the United
States increased, and they on their return home bore testi-
mony to the fidelity df Mr. Cropsey's brush. Of this fidel-

skill and the lightness and vivacity of the execution. This
painting was exhibited at the London Exhibition, where it
attracted great attention from foreign visitors, and was the
subject of special remark in the report of the commissioners
on the American department. It passed into the collection
of an English gentleman, who thought himself fortunate to
get it at a round price. And thus has it been with all his
later efforts. They have readily found a profitable market.
To own a genuine Cropsey is to be envied the possession.
* Mr. Cropsey's range of subjects is wide, and .his artistic
merits have received recognition in all lands. He is a dili-
gent student and has no superior as a painter in his special
line. In subsequent issues of our publications we pur-
pose to present some. fine specimens in wood engraving
of his autumnal work.



Soul of mine,
Wouldst thou choose for life a motto half divine?
Let this be thy guard and guide
Through the future, reaching wide;
Whether good or ill betide,
Rise higher!
Let each care
Lift thee upward to a higher, purer air;
Then let Fortune do her worst;
Whether Fate has blessed or cursed;
Little matter, if thou first
Rise higher!


A STORY is told by Lamartine, of an Arab named
Naher, who owned a very fleet and beautiful horse.
A Bedouin, Daher, tried in vain to buy him and, deter-
mined on his possession, disguised himself as a lame beggar,
and crouched by the roadside where he expected Naher to
pass. When he saw him approaching, mounted on his
beautiful steed, he hailed him in a weak voice, and implored
his aid, saying he had been unable for three days to move
from that spot, and was faint from hunger and thirst.
Get on my horse behind me," said the kind-hearted
Arab, instantly, "and I will carry you where you want
to go."
Daher pretended to try to rise, failing to do so, of course;
and Naher, as was expected, dismounted and placed the
beggar tenderly in the saddle. As soon as he was mounted,
and felt himself secure, the artful villain put the horse to his
utmost speed, looking back to call out, "I am Daher; I
have your horse, and I will keep him!"
Naher shouted to him to stop a moment and listen; and

..--._-_ _


A spot well loved by lowing herds.

The Arab Steed.

Daher, sure of not being overtaken by a man on foot, stopped.
"You have taken my horse," said Naher; "since Heaven
has permitted it, I still wish you well; but I conjure you
never to tell anyone how you obtained him."
"And why?" asked Daher, in surprise.
"Because many a one whose heart is pitiful would pass
by distress, suspicious of deception. Lest they should be
duped, as I have been, they would refuse aid really needed,
and which would otherwise be given."
Daher paused, in utter shame.
Presently he turned, rode back to Naher, and restored
his horse-and thus began a friendship that lasted for life.


There is a mighty dawning on the earth
Of human glory; dreams unknown before
Fill the mind's boundless world, and wondrous birth
Is given to great thought; the deep-drawn lore,
But late a hidden fount, at which a few
Quaffed and were glad, is now a flowing river,
Which the parched nations may approach and view,
Kneel down and drink, or float in it forever.




WHAT a wonderful field for study there is in the sky
above us! Look at the clouds; here, in great,
heavy masses; there, assuming strange shapes, and taking
on an infinite variety of coloring. See the setting sun;
never twice alike-;
a marvel of beauty,=--~-
and grandeur; a
feast for even -~~

young eyes.
Let us go down
by the seashore
and watch the
great waves come
in. The sea is
broad, and grand,
and deep; but is
that all? Note
how it reflects the
color of the sky;
mark the waves
that rise afar, and
show their white
manes like wild
horses of the sea,
and dash on the
shore like a charge
of cavalry. How
they come gallop-
ing, galloping on!
Watch for the
ninth wave and
look out for your-
self! Observe the
height that each
succeeding wave
attains when the
tide is on the rise,
and how the char-
acter of the beach
is changed after
a severe storm of
wind or rain.There
is a volume of in-
teresting study in
a handful of sand,
a tuft of moss, a
small patch of

>d ).

On the Way to

grass, or a bunch
of seaweed. Stand on the beach here by the sea-the great,
irregular sea-and count whether the thunder of it is not out
of time-one-two; here comes a well-formed wave at last,
trembling a little at the top, but, on the whole, orderly. So!
Crash among the shingle, and up as far as this gray pebble!
Now, stand by and watch. Another: ah, careless wave!

why couldn't you have kept your crest on? It's all gone
away into spray, striking up against the cliffs there-I
thought as much-missed the mark by a couple of feet!
Another: how now, impatient one! couldn't you have
waited till your friend's reflux was done with, instead of
rolling yourself up with it in that unseemly manner ? You
go for nothing. A
Sfourth,and a good
one at last! What
think we of yonder
slow rise, and crys-
talline hollow,
without a flaw ?
Steady, good
1 wave! not so fast!
notsofast! Where
_- are you coming
to? This is too
o bad; two yards
r overthe markand
ever so much of
you in our face be-
sides; and a wave
which we had
some hope of, be-
hind there, broken
all to pieces, out
at sea, and laying
a great, white
tablecloth of foqm
all the way to the
shore, as if the
S --marine gods were
to dine off it !
Alas, for these un-
happy "arrow
shots" of Nature!
She will never hit
her mark with
those unruly
waves of hers, nor
get one of them
into the ideal
shape, if we wait
a thousand years.


ONE would
Market. suppose, to
read all that is
printed about modern women, that the good, old-fashioned,
matronly virtues were quite extinct-that there were, literally,
no mothers who delighted in their own children, and who
would not rather, if possible, ignore all personal supervision
of them, from the cradle to adult years. Now, could the
roofs of the houses be lifted, we should see lovely pictures


of happy mothers and children, quite sufficient to convince
chronic croakers that marriage and motherhood are not the
" total failures" they pronounce them to be. I can reckon
scores of women, who, with luminous faces, will bend over
their little children to-night, before laying their heads upon
their pillows, and thank God with full hearts that they are
counted worthy to
bear that blessed
name. I can reckon -
scores of mothers,
who, though some-
times almost faint- -.
ing by the way,
would not delegate :
any of the duties
which none could -
so well or so faith-- :-
fully perform for _. .,
their young child-
ren. Donotbelieve
they have not their
compensation for
any and every sac-
rifice they make for
them in the clinging
love and trust which
such well-cared-for
children alone feel
for such mothers.
We do not wonder
that careless, pleas-
mothers shun the
nursery, where no ---
little face brightens
at their coming;
where, perhaps, the
simple, warm-
hearted servant in
charge, whose life
has had little
enough brightness, I ---
has more happiness
in that little child's
soft caresses and
musical laughter "
than its own selfish
mother could ever
know. The day Going to
will come when
pleasure has ceased to charm; when she would gladly,
just for companionship's sake, buy back the love she has
recklessly thrown away; but a jewel like that, this "open
sesame" to a child's heart, which God puts into every
mother's hand, is not to be regained when once despised
and thrown away. Hold fast to that which is good.



M AMMA is dressed up warmly, and is waiting for
little May. When she comes they are going to pay
a visit to old Aunt Sallie, in the cottage yonder, to tell
her that the wagon will be over this afternoon to bring the
usual Christmas
-- gifts of warm
blankets, groceries
and other things to
last through the
winter. Wood and
coal and flour will
follow on the mor-
else necessary to
make Aunt Sallie's
home as comfort-
able as possible
until the warm sum-
mer days shall have
come again.


Always make the
best of what hap-
pens to you. A
little self-control
and right feeling
r Will help you to do
this. To fret and
scold overaccidents
and disappoint-
ments is wrong,
and sure to make
any one miserable.
SIIIII The example of a
child, as told in the
following incident,
is worth laying to
heart. Shewasonly
threeyears old. To
amuse her cousin
.. choicest playthings.
Among these was
a tiny trunk, with
Sallie's. bands of gilt paper
for straps-a very
pretty toy; but Freddy bent the lid too far back and broke
it off. He did not mean to do this, and when he saw what
he had done he was frightened and began to cry.
Then dear little Minnie, with her own eyes full of tears,
said: "Never mind, Freddy; just see what a cunning little
cradle the top will make." Now, wasn't that very sweet?



Little John Jones
Was throwing stones
Into a pool of water,
When a fish in a hat
Said, "Pray, don't do that,
Or you'll hit my son and my daughter."


THIS- is little Zoe. She is just four years old. She
lives many miles from town-as many as Fift'en.
She has no little girls or boys for playmates; but she ha.
Dicky. This is Dicky. He is a very knowing dog FHe
can stand up in a corner, and he will stay there till Zoe -aay.
he may get down. He will let Zoe dress him iin her dolly's
clothes, and take him by his fore foot and lead him ab'-,t to
call on mamma or auntie.
This cart is the one that Zoe's dollies ride in. Zoe has
two dollies. One of them is named Jimmie, and th,: .-'ther.
Susie. Susie has no head,.so she couldn't have her pic:tlt'
taken; and Jimmie ran away.
Jimmie is a very wide-awake little girl, for a doll gir!.
although she has a boy's name. Both these d.ollies arc
locked up at home now.
Sometimes Zoe takes the cat, Major, to ride in her cart;
but Major scratches. She likes best to make Dick\ ,.alk
his hind feets." Dicky doesn't like to do this, but hel minds
his little mistress. This'is Dicky "walking his hind
feets." Sometimes he is very naughty, and wlihen Zoe
is not looking he runs away. Then he ha to.
stand up in a corner for punishment, and is \ery
sorry and ashamed for a long time.


TOM CALDWELL threw a stone at
DeaconUlster's horse as the old deacon -
was riding by the other day. The stone
struck the horse. The horse kicked. The deacon'
hat and wig were knocked off into the mud, and tihe
deacon himself came very near being thrown. Tom didn't
exactly mean to do it, although he did cast the stone, and
did join with the rough boys in laughing heartily at the sad
plight into which the deacon was put by the recklessness.
"Good for you, Tom!" said a red-nosed horse-jockey,
who stood by and saw the catastrophe.. Here's a dollar,
Tom. It's worth that to see pious pride put into pickle."
And the jockey reached out a gold dollar to Tom. Tom
hesitated a moment, but could not resist the prize, and
so, pocketing the dollar, joined in the jockey's jolly laugh at
the deacon's expense, and then walked on, feeling a little
ashamed of himself, and yet covering his conviction with the
thought of how many nice things a gold dollar would buy.

Tom had gone but a few steps when he saw Dr. Maybin,
an old Quaker, standing in his office, and beckoning to
Tom to come over. "What did the fools pay thee for thy
folly, Thomas ?" asked the old man.
Tom blushed. His fingers fumbled in his pockets, and the
gold dollar seemed to burn them more than the hot blushes
burned his cheeks and brow. He answered nothing. What
could he answer ? Didst thou sell thyself, Thomas?" asked
the old doctor. Still the condemned boy was speechless.
"Thoughtlessly, thou didst do a foolish thing. Mischiev-

ously,- thou didst laugh with fools at thine own wrong.
Covetously, thou didst accept a bit of gold for a- bad deed;
and canst thou now rejoice in gold thus ill-gotton from base
hands? I am ashamed of thee!"
"I despise myself," said Tom, flinging the gold piece to
the pavement, and bursting into a flood of tears.
"Then pick up that gold; go to the giver; place it
again in his hand, and say, 'I blush that I dare to touch it,'
go then to Deacon Ulster's and confess thy wrong."
And Tom did as the doctor advised, and, on his way to
his own home, he said to himself: "The reproofs of the
wise are sweeter than the rewards of the wicked."


Who dare sport with the sin-defiled?
Pr Shrink from me, turn from me, mother
and child.
Strong and free, strong and free;
The floodg-ates are open, away to the sea,
SFree and strong, free and strong,
.- C(leansing my streams as I hurry along
STo the golden sands and the claping bar,
And the taintless tide that aw aits mc afar,
--- A.s I lose myself in the infinite main,
Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned
S Lndefiled, fo:r the undefiled;
Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child

Clear and cool, clear and cool, -i I
By laughing shallow and dreaming pool; .
Cool and clear, cool and clear,
By shining shingle, and foaming wear;
Under the crag where the ouzel sings,
And the ivied wall where the church-bell
Undefiled, for the undefiled;
Play by me, bathe in me, mother and
Dank and foul, dank and foul,
By the smoky town in its murky cowl;
Foul and dank, foul and dank,
By wharf and sewer and slimy bank;
Darker and darker the further I go,
Baser and baser the richer I grow;



When cats run home and light is come,
And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring sail goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.

When merry milkmaids click the latch,
And rarely smells the new-mown hay,
And the cock has sung beneath the thatch
Twice or thrice his roundelay,
Twice or thrice his roundelay;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.

__ -i _


Fn a a l r

Chzum wins the race against all colioetators.


TH E story I am going to tell you is really a -true one,
S:about my dog and me. I am six years old, but I
think my dog must be nearly fifty, because I have had him.
ever since I could remember.. Chum is his name, and he
knows it, too; just as \iell as you boys and girls know
-your own names. When I ask him if he..wants his break-
fast, his tail wags yes; but neier no, to a question like that.
I think his tail could wag a no if it wanted to, as my dog
can do most everything.
Of all the things that we do for play, taking turns being
a horse is most funniest. My brother made me a nice
harness-not for me to wear, but for Chum. He likes it as
well as I do, I believe, for when I get on the sled he is
fastened to, and say, "Now, go it, Chummie !"-that's what
I sometimes call him-how he does skip along! Don't the
wind just whistle by my ears, and the snow fly in my face !
And all shout and wave their hats when they see us go
down the street, past the slow old horses, just as easy.
Sometimes the farmers going into the city will race with
us; but when Chummie hears me say, "Hi, there! Stur

boy! he just runs away from those old horses as if they
were standing still. Then the men and boys scream, and
throw their hats in the air, and the butcher gives Chummie
a piece of meat. Everyone pats him on the head, and
calls him a good fellow, and sometimes I have candy given
me because I own such a fine dog.
Then it is my turn to be the horse. Chum gets on the
sled, and I put my little whip in his collar, which I carry
when I ride,just to be like a real man; but I never touch it
to Chum. He goes fast enough without a whip, and,
besides, it would make him sorry, and then I should be
sorry; and that's why I don't use it..
Chum is such a heavy dog that I can't go very fast, and
all the teams pass me trotting along the road. I say to the
men I have raced with: "Wait until Chum is a horse'again,
and I will go by you." If we can't travel as fast, I am very
proud to see the people all stop and look, and hear them
laugh and say: "What a wonderful dog to sit so still, and
hold the reins in his mouth as well as a boy could in his
hands! Chum and I have splendid times, I tell you.



C HILDREN grow up-nothing on earth grows so fast
as children. It was but yesterday, and that lad was
playing with tops, a buoyant boy. He is a man, and gone,
now! There is no more childhood for him or for us. Life
has claimed him. When a beginning is made, it is like a
traveling stock-
ing, stitch by
stitch gives way,
till all are gone!
The house has
not a child in it.
There is no more
noise in the hall
-boys rushing
in pell-mell; it
is very orderly
now. There are
no more skates
or sleds, bats,
balls, or strings
left scattered
about. Things
are ileat enough -
now. There is
no delay of
breakfast for --
sleepy folks; .
there is no long-
er any task be- .
fore lying down -
of looking after
anybody, and .
tucking up the i
bed-clothes. -
There are no dis-
putes to settle,
nobody to get
offto school, no 'i
complaint, no I
importunities I
for impossible -
things, no rips to 1 I .
mend, no fingers '
to tie up, no faces

to be washed, or I !C OSjI .IJ 10 Lr
collars to be ar-
ranged. There ,,,,
was never such
peace in the house! It would sound like music to have
some feet to clatter down the front stairs! Oh, for some
children's noise! What used to ail us, that we were hushing
their loud laugh, checking their noisy frolic, and reproving
their slamming and banging of the doors ? We wish our
neighbors would only lend us an urchin or two to make

a little noise in these premises. A home without children!
It is like a lantern and no candle; a garden and no flowers;
a vine and no grapes; a brook and no water gurgling and
rushing in its channel. We want to be tired, to be vexed,
to be run over, to hear children at work with all its varieties.
During the secular days this is enough marked. But it is
Sunday that puts our home to the proof. That is the
Christian family
day. The inter-
vals of public
worship are long
Z- Spaces of peace.
The familyseems
Made up on that
day. The chil-.
hands on their
heads. They
seem to recog-
-- .- ~nize the greater
and lesser love
-to God and to
neighbors. The
house is peaceful
but not still.
There is a low
and melodious
trill of children
in it. But Sun-
day comes too
still now. There
is a silence that
aches in the ear.
4":; ~ B i :-fThere is too
much room at
the table, too
much at the
hearth. The
bedrooms are a
world too order-
ly. Thereistoo

Much leisure
-' I and too little
care. Alas! what
I mean these
things? Issome-
body growing
..u Wu old ? Are these
signs and to-
kens ? Has the bright morning disappeared? Is it high
noon, or far on towards the twilight? Are the shadows
deepening? Listen to the echoes, the echoes of the
yesterdays of our being. The night cometh, also the
darkness. What can it mean? Is life waning? Ah, the
children have grown up-and gone.

I ~

:~~~I li.llilllllll:l



O SAW ye not fair Ines?
She's gone into the West
To dazzle when the sun is down,
And rob the world of rest:
She took our daylight with her,
The smiles that we love best,
With morning blushes on her cheek,
And pearls upon her breast.

O turn again fair Ines,
Before the fall of night,
For fear the moon should shine alone,
And stars unrivall'd bright;
And blessed will the lover be
That walks beneath their light,
And breathes the love against thy cheek
I dare not even write!

Would I had been, fair Ines,
That gallant cavalier
Who rode so gaily by thy side,
And whisper'd thee so near!
Were there no bonny dames at home,
Or no true lovers here,
That he should cross the seas to win
The dearest of the dear ?

I saw thee, lovely Ines,
Descend along the shore,
With bands of noble gentlemen,
And banners waved before;
'And gentle youth and maidens gay,
And snowy plumes they wore;
It would have been a beauteous dream,
-If it had been no more

Alas, alas, fair Ines!
She went away with song,
With Music waiting on her steps,
And shouting of the throng;
But some were sad and felt no mirth,
But only Music's wrong,
In sounds that sang, Farewell, Farewell,
To her you've loved so long!

Farewell, farewell, fair Ines
That vessel never bore
So fair a lady on its deck,
Nor danced so light before-
Alas, for pleasure on the sea,
And sorrow on the shore!
The smile that blest one lover's heart
Has broken many more.

a vese nv-."- 0W o f-

That vessel never bore so fair a lady on its deck.


Au ~-



Boys of spirit, boys of will,
Boys of muscle, brain and power; B
Fit to cope with anything-
These are wanted every hour.
Not the weak and whining drones,
That all trouble magnify;
Not the watchword of I can't,"
But the noble one, "I'll try."
Do whatever you have to do
With a true and earnest zeal;
Bend your sinews to the task,
Put your shoulder to the wheel.
Though your duty may be hard,
Look not on it as an ill;
If it be an honest task,
Do it with an honest will.
At the anvil or the farm,
Wheresoever you may be-
From your future efforts, boys,
Comes a nation's destiny.


A S SLY as a fox." My dear, little readers, I hope
A-A this sorry proverb does not apply to any of you ;
I would as soon be called a thief or brigand. See how
slyly the young heir, Master Reynard, is creeping along
and peeping over the meadow blossoms and bushes. He
espies an unsuspecting pigeon, slowing wending her way
over the grassy hillock. It is the gentle mother-dove, who
bade her little brood good bye an hour or so ago, while she
went to the thrifty garden near by, to peck for her darlings
a nourishing meal. She has secured for them and her
indolent mate many a dainty morsel, concealed under her
capacious wings and within her maternal beak, and is trudg-
ing anxiously home to her dove cote, when she is suddenly
pounced upon by her wily adversary, Master Reynard.
She has only time and breath to say, Oh, my poor little
babies "-and all is over. The dear, loving mother-dove is
dead. Grinning and leaping, the wicked young fox bounds
over meadow and stream into the crevice of rock where he
was born, and where his mother is wondering what could
have detained him so long. She fondles him, smooths his
rumpled fur jacket, and calls him her brave, good boy;
then dons her new gown, with its girdle and pockets and
matron's bib; and, as a reward for the nice breakfast the
rogue has brought her, puts on his new trousers and sus-
penders, and giving him his favorite toy, they start for a
long walk in the bright sunshine to the apple orchard,
where Mr. Reynard is digging out an earth
hole for their winter quarters; and where
the red-coated rascal, from his covert den,

ducks and geese, hens and chickens. Ah,
Mr. Fox and Madame have planned their
Xmas dinner long ago! But let us hope
that a big, strong trap, which Johnny Smart,
the farmer's son, is making in the barn loft,
may catch them, everyone!


AD company is like a nail driven into a
f J post, which, after the first and second
blow, may be drawn out with little difficulty;
but being once driven up to the head, the pin-
cers cannot take hold to draw it out, but which
can only be done by destroying the wood;

-s- Z~2
= ~L~4~
~-1-" ---" L~i



What shall I do to be forever known ? 'I
Thy duty ever '
This did full many who yet slept un-
Oh! never, never!
Thinkest thou, perchance, that they re-
main unknown 1
Whom thou knowest not ?
By angel trumps in heaven their praise is .
Divine their lot.
What shall I do to gain eternal life ?
Discharge aright --
The simple dues with which each day is rife?
Yea, with thy might.
Ere perfect scheme of action thou devise
Life will be fled,
While he who ever acts as conscience cries
Shall live, though dead.


MR. REYNARD soliloquizes to himself as he looks
complacently forth from his black hole. What a
fine family I have, to be sure. My children are the sleekest
and fleetest in the forest; and what sharp teeth and claws-
just like my own, and cunning, too; there they resemble
their mother. "Ah, what's the matter, you rogues? emerg-
ing from his den. "Come, quick, quick, Papa Fox; look
there, through the peephole,
and see what Farmer
----- G r.:.c:l\y is d.,,ing!"
.exclaims Iladamni

1 .r .. his gal'de ,ll
mild/Fx Sldi~

11 IqJ
-".P, 0,

close beside our cave, he, he! What feastings we will have
when the vegetables and corn are ripe!" "And the melons,
mamma," says little Frisky. "And the eggs in the grass,"
squeaks Bo-Peep; "And the spring chickens," mutters
Long-nose ; "I know the way to the new coop." And
I to the rabbits' pen," says Sniffet. We didn't go maraud-
ing yesterday for nothing, Mother Reynard." "You must
be careful, my children," says Mr. Fox, "and not let the
hunters spot you." "Never you fear, sir," replies Witch Hazel,
"we are chips off the old block." "Ha, ha! Well said, my
child." And they chatter and giggle, run and play, keeping
guard by turns at the window in the old cherry-tree stump,
until Farmer Greedy shoulders his gleaming shovel and walks
away. Then Mr. Reynard takes a bird's eye view of the
c.-uLntrv around about, and lays his plans for the next-day's
f.-ra in 1; while Mother Fox gathers her pets about her, and
tells them the story of Little Red Riding Hood."


I was sitting in'the twilight
With my Charlie on my knee
(Little two-year-old, forever
Teasing, Talk a 'tory, p'ease, to me").
Now," I said, talk me a ''tory.'"
"Well," reflectively, "I'll 'mence:
Mamma, I did see a kitty,
Great-big-kitty, on the fence."
Mamma smiles. Five little fingers
Cover up her laughing lips:
Is 'oo laughing ? "Yes," I tell him,
But I kiss the finger-tips,
And I say, Now tell another."
Well (all smiles), now I will 'mence:
Mamma, I did see a doggie,
Great-big-doggie, on the fence."
Rather similar, your stories-
Aren't they, dear? A sober look
Swept across the pretty forehead,
Then he sudden courage took:
But I know a nice new 'tory,
'Plendid, mamma! Hear me 'mence:
Mamma, I-did-see-a-elfunt,
Great-big-elfunt, on the fence."




"'.J. had been r-r
.seriously ill neara
all winter. Coming
h---n- h e Fr,:,m sc hco:l one
afternoon of a cold
day, he had thrown himself into his mother's arms,
crying, "I am so sick, mamma;" and the flushed cheeks
and hot hands so alarmed her that she speedily sum-
moned the doctor. After examining and questioning his
little patient, he remarked aside to Mrs. Loring: "I fear
Jamie has scarlet fever." And so it proved. Long days
and nights he tossed with aching head and burning limbs,
while his anxious, loving mother watched over him unceas-
ingly. How the tears would flow, and her heart throb with
fear, when he would say, in his delirious moments: Good
bye, mamma, it's school-time now; I must not be-late."
And again, in his conscious moments: "I love you so,
dear mamma; I'll soon be well." At last, all danger was
past, and Jamie was very comfortable. Happy Mrs. Loring
would tell him stories, and play games of cardboard pictures
upon the counterpane, and wind the large music-box for
his amusement. The disease being contagious, his.little
-friends could not yet visit him; but they and their:mothers
often called at the door to make inquiries after his welfare,
leaving many tokens of their love, in shape of nice dainties,
fruits and flowers. After six long weeks, Jamie was carried
down into the pleasant library daily; where, from the sunny
window-seat, warmly clad in his bright dressing-gown, he

-watched the children on their way to
school. How they shouted and cheered,
tossed caps, books and snowballs, when
they first caught sight of him And how
S sweetly his little white hand waved back a
joyful recognition. He was still very weak
SA- and pale, but "slowly and surely gaining,"
said the doctor, one fine day. "Bundle
the little fellow up, Mrs. Loring, and take
him for a ride. You don't want any more
S -- of me and my doses, Jamie," remarked the
S'~ 1 kind physician, patting him on the head,.
S as he rose to go. "Oh, doctor, please
5, don't say that; you have been so good to
me, and I thank you for making me well
rnu .J again." "Ah, Jamie, it was not my skill;
good nursing is better than medicine, and,
my boy-" gazing down into the fair,
wasted face. "Oh, yes, I know; mamma
helped you." And raising his frail arm
and beaming eyes, said: Dear doctor, I
love you; let me kiss you i" Every pleas-
ant day after this, Mrs. Loring and Jamie
went to ride. The roses blossomed in
his cheeks, and strength was fast returning.
One Satu.rday morning, when his mother was reading to
him the pathetic little story, "King Davie," she.was sum-
anicned to the hall, where were some half dozen of Jamie's
conmpanion-, who came to ask Mrs. Loring if they might
take Jamie For a sled ride on the river; the day was fine,
they had fur robes, the river was like iron; so, thanking
them kindly, she consented. When informed of the boys'
request, Jamie threw his arms about his mother's neck,
exclaiming: "Oh, mamma! How good everybody is to me.
May I go ?" Yes, my darling." A loving kiss expressed
the joyful thanks. Jamie was soon ready. The jolly
boys rushed to greet him, and quickly tucked him upon
their gaily painted "Excelsior." The young guardians
promised to take the very best care of him, returning, as Mrs.
Loring requested, in just one hour; and then, with a
"good bye" sped away. And there stands the happy
mother, watching the merry party descend the bank of the.-.
river, which is in full view from her spacious window;
her heart is full of gratitude to God that he has spared and
restored to health her only son and future hope, for Mrs.
Loring is a widow, and Jamie never had a sister.

D EAR BILL:-Here I am in Jersey. Now, I'll tell
you what I want. I want you to come down here
for the holidays. Don't be afraid. Ask your sister to ask
your mother to ask your father to let you come. It's only
ninety miles. If you're out of pocket-money, you can walk,
and beg a lift now and then, or swing by the dickeys. Put
on corduroys, and don't care for cut behind. The two
'prentices, George and Nick, are here to be made farmer,


of, and brother Frank is took home from
school to help in agriculture. We like
farming very much; it's capital fun. Us -
four have got a gun, and go out shooting;
it's a famous good one, and sure to go off
if you don't full cock it. Tiger is to be
our shooting dog as soon as he has left :j F
off killing the sheep. He's a real savage, =
and worries cats beautiful. Before father
comes down, we mean to bait our bull '
with him. There's plenty of new rivers
about, and we're going a-fishing as soon
as we have mended our top joint. We've
killed one of our sheep on the sly to get
gentles. We've a pony, too, to ride upon
when we can catch him; but he's loose
in the paddock, and has neither mane
nor tail to signify to lay hold of. Isn't it __
prime, Bill? You must come. If your
mother won't give your father leave to
allow you, run away. There's a pond full
of frogs, but we won't pelt them till you
come; but let it be before Sunday, as
there's our own orchard to rob, and the
fruits to be gathered on Monday. If you
like sucking raw eggs, we know where the hlns lay, and
mother don't; and I'm bound there's lots of birds'' n.-,ts.
Do come, Bill, and I'll show you the wasp's nest, and every-
thing to make you comfortable. I dare say you could
borrow your father's volunteer musket of him \ without his
knowing it; but be sure, anyhow, to bring the ramrod, as
we've mislaid ours by firing it off Don't forget come bird-
lime, Bill, and some fish-hooks, and some different sorts
of shot, and some gunpowder, and a gentle-box, and
some flints, some May-flies, and a powder-horn, and a land-
ing-net, and a dog-whistle, and some porcupine-quills, and a
bullet-mold, and a trolling-winch, and a shot-belt, and a
tin can. You pay for 'em, Bill, and I'll owe it you.
Your old friend and school-fellow,


IT IS recorded of the great Erasmus that once, when he
was suffering from a virulent internal abscess which none
dared to operate upon, and which was endangering his life,
he got hold of a satire by Reuchlier and Van Hutten, and,
upon reading it, burst into such an uproarious fit of
laughter that the imposthume was broken and his health
quickly restored. In a singular treatise on laughter Joubert
gives an instance that is of itself laughable enough. A patient
being very low with fever, and. the physician in attendance
being at a loss as to how he should produce a reaction, had
ordered a dose of rhubarb, but after the medicine had been
prepared, fearing its debilitating effects, the order was coun-
termanded. Not long thereafter a pet monkey belonging to

nursehadpre- **
pared the rejected medicine still standing
on the table, slipped slyly up, took it in his hands,
and touched it to his lips. The first taste was probably
novel, and he made a comical grimace, but he disliked
to give it up. Another sip, and he got the sweet of
the syrup. Aha! His grotesque visage brightened. He
cast a furtive glance around, and then sat quietly down,
with the goblet grasped firmly; and pretty soon he had
placed it to his lips and drank to the dregs. Perhaps there
had been half a wine-glass full of syrup of manna-not more
-while the rhubarb had all settled. But he had found it,
and before he had fully realized the change of taste he had
swallowed nearly the whole of the nauseous dose. Mercy !
What a face he made over it. The sick man was spell-
bound. Never in his life had he seen anything so gro-
tesquely ard ridiculously human! The visage of the
disgusted monkey was a study.. It was a whole volume of
utter abomination and chagrin. He ground his' teeth, and
actually stamped his foot, as he had seen his master do
when in wrath. Then he tried to spit out the horrible taste,
but it seemed worse and worse. Anon the climax came.
He stood up, his eyes flashed, he grasped the goblet by its
slender stock with all his might, shut his teeth, and then,


with a spiteful, vengeful snap, he hurled it with mad fury
upon the floor, and seemed entirely satisfied as he saw the
thousand glittering pieces flying about. Never before had
the sick man seen anything to equal it. The whole scene,
and all the circumstances-everything about it-appeared
to him so supremely and comically ludicrous, that he burst
into a fit of laughter that lasted until his nurse came in to
see what was the matter. And when he tried to tell her he
laughed again, more
heartily, if possible,
than before-laughed
until he sank back
exhausted--sank back
in a profuse perspira-
tion. The nurse anx-
iously sponged and
wiped his weeping
skin; he perspired and
laughed again-until
he slept; and when he
awoke the reaction i
had come, the fever "
had been broken, and
he was on the sure
road to convalescence.

TRY. i

D ON'T be whining
about not hav-
ing a fair chance.
Throw a sensible man 'n;
out of a window, he'll
fall on his feet and ask
the nearest way to his
work. The more you i
have to begin with, i
the less you will have
in the end. Money L -
you earn yourself is
much brighter than _
any you can get out --
of dead men's bags.
A scant breakfast in
the morning of life "Yer ain't got no yellr callike
whets the appetite for That's what laxyer. Is)
a feast later in the day.
He who has tasted a sour apple will have the more relish
for a sweet one. Your present want will make prosperity
all the sweeter. As for the place you are cast in, don't find
fault with that: you need not be a horse because you were
born in a stable.
Who loves his work and knows how to spare,
May live and flourish anywhere.
As to a little trouble, who expects to find cherries with-
out stones, or roses without thorns? Who would win must
learn to bear. Idleness lies in bed sick of the mulligrubs,

while industry finds health and wealth. The dog in the
kennel barks at fleas: the hunting dog does not even know
they are there. Laziness waits till the river is dry and never
gets to market. "Try" swims in and makes all the trade.

I HAVE no patience with people who talk about the
"thoughtlessness of youth" indulgently. I had infi-
nitely rather hear of
thoughtless old age
and indulgence due to
that. When a man

r, is yer?" "Who said I is?"

nobly thoughtless-his deathbed.
ever be left to be done there.

has done his work,and
nothing can any way
be materially altered
in his fate, let him for-
get his toil; but what
excuse can you find
for willfulness of
thought at the very
time when every crisis
of the future fortune
hangs on your de-
cisions? A youth
thoughtless! When
all the happiness of
his home forever de-
pends on the chances
or passions of an hour!
A youth thoughtless!
When the career of all
his days depends on
the opportunity of a
moment! A youth
thoughtless! When
his every act is a
foundation stone of
future conduct, and
every imagination a
fountain of life or
death! Be thought-
less in any after years
rather than now-
though, indeed, there
is only one place
where a man may be
No thinking should


FARMER ROSS was in a dilemma. His watermelons
were disappearing about as fast as they ripened. "I
know who is the thief," he said to his wife; it is that little
black rascal, Dixie, down in Marsh Hollow. I'll fix him
the next time he comes." Now little Mabel, the farmer's


daughter, heard what her father said, and as she was a
friend to the colored children at Pine Hill School, she
determined to save her papa's melons, and, at the same
time, try to save Dixie from being a thief. So the next
day, as Topsy, his sister, was on her way to school, Mabel
called to her from over the stone wall, and told her what
Dixie was accused of doing, and that her papa would surely
set Pounce, her dog, upon him if he came again. "Now,
Topsy, wait a minute, till I get my Primer and kiss mamma
good bye, and I'll go- along with you. I want to 'pose
something to you." Mabel soon appeared, and, opening the
large gate, the little girls walked down the road together;
and this is what Mabel said: "I'll tell you what I'll do
Topsy; Mamma gives me a big slice of melon every day,
besides all I have for my dessert, to 'play company' with
in the old orchard, where I have lots of broken china for
dishes. Now I'll wrap the piece in a paper and give it to
you and Dixie every afternoon on your way home from
school, if you'll make him promise not to steal any more of
my papa's watermelons." Dixie promised on one condi-
tion, that he might have the whole slice for himself, and
there he stands, the selfish boy, eating and grinning away.

DID you ever see a woman throw a stone at a hen ? It
is one of the most ludicrous scenes in every-day life.
We recently observed the process-indeed, we paid more
attention than the hen did, for she did not mind it at all,
and laid an egg the next day as if nothing had happened.
In fact, that hen will now know for the first time that she

-i.. a~.\

,iI**. .

*4* il; J: t


i' I

Dixie and/he Watermelon.

served in the capacity of a target. The
ii predatory fowl had invaded the precincts
i of the flower bed, and was industriously
pecking and scratching for the early
'' worm blissfully unconscious of impend-
.'~ring danger. The lady now appears
upon the scene, picks up a rocky frag-
ment of the Silurian age, and then
J' makes her first mistake-they all do it
'i -of seizing the projectile with the
wrong hand. Then, with malice afore-
I thought, she makes the further blunder
of swinging her arms perpendicularly
instead of horizontally; thereupon the
stone flies into the air, describing an
Irregular elliptical curve, and strikes the
surface of the earth as far from the hen
as the thrower stood at the time, in a
course due west from the same, the hen
then bearing by compass N.N.E.,by
.. half E. At the second attempt the
\ stone narrowly missed the head of the
thrower herself, who, seeing that any
further attempt of the kind would be
suicidal, does what she might have done
first, starts after the hen with an old and
thoroughly familiar weapon-her umbrella.


--- 'I -r ---- -m


SITT LE A[Monke :- ROlNnI
L shine. li, n the L star- ar,,
br i'ht, win in .- n the ,c rll-
stall.5, in the dead of night;
ilancin o'er the mcado-.s,
S l -ating do,, n the stream, peep-
inu through the windd,\ s. to
mal;e the children dream: fall-
Sing thr .. u h r thei tlree-t ,op ,: tum b-
li1ng .,'er thle lai'i, icha ing bats
and ,,nlets. till the break of
.morn. Then little Monkeyv
-l\l onlsh in-., i ith the morning
star. ride- away to, clioudland.
in a silver car.
P ~-

SA A GROULP :of boys stood on
L ---- the \\alk before a fine,
large drug store, pelting each
other with snowballs. In an unlucky moment the young-
est sent his spinning through the frosty air against the large
plate-glass of the druggist's window. The crash terrified
them all, but none so much as the little fellow who now
stood pale and trembling, with startled eyes, gazing at the
mischief he had wrought.
Won't old Kendrick be mad! Run, Ned! we won't tell.
Run, quick!" "I can't!" he gasped. "Run, I tell you!
he's coming! Coward! Why don't you run? I guess he
wouldn't catch me!" "No; I can't run," he faltered.
"Little fool! he'll be caught! Not spunk enough to run
away! Well, I've done all I can for him," muttered the
elder boy. The door opened:- an angry face appeared.
"Who did this?" came in fierce tones from the owner's lips.
" Who did this, I say?" he shouted, as no one answered.

.__ The trembling, shrinking boy drew near
The little, delicate-looking culprit faced the
.' angry man, and in tones of truth replied:
"I did it, sir."- And you dare tell me of
it?" "I dare not deny it, sir; I dare not
tell a lie." The reply was unexpected. The
stern man paused; he saw the pale cheek,
the frightened eyes wherein the soul of
truth and true courage shone, and his heart
was touched. "Come here, sir. What's
your name?" "Edward Howe, sir. Oh!
what can I do to pay you? I'll do anything"
-his eyes filled with tears-" only don't
make my mother pay it, sir!" "Will you
-_=_- _:-.- -- shovel my walk when the next snow falls ?"
______ Ned's face was radiant as he answered:
"All winter, sir. I'll do it every time, and
more too, sir. I'll do anything." "Well,
that's enough; and do you know why I let you off so easy?
\\el, it's because you are not afraid to tell the truth. I like
a boy that tells the truth always. When the next snow falls
be sure you come to me." "I will, sir." "We'll all help
him !" shouted the others ;. and, as they turned away, three
hlarty cheers rose for Mr. Kendrick, and three more for the
boy that dared not run away.


THERE is a lesson in the following worth learning. Help
one another. Kindness costs but little, but is a treasure
to those u ho receive it. One day, while walking up the
street, I -aa\, a short distance before me, quite a small boy
carrying a large basket. It seemed very heavy, for the little
fellow \\ a, bending and staggering under its weight, yet he
\went resol utely forward, only stopping occasionally to change
it from one hand to the other.
He \was poorly clad, and as he turned his head.I recog-
niz ed him as the son of a poor widow, who was obliged to
work erv hard to earn food and clothing for herself and her
two little boys. My heart ached for the brave little fellow
who was beginning so early to bear life's burdens, and I
wanted to help him. "Lift a little," he seemed to say to the
passers-by as he trudged on with his load.
Soon I heard rapid footsteps behind me, and in a moment
a bright-faced boy, the only son of a professor in one of our
colleges, passed me. When he reached the little boy, who
was still bending under his burden, he stretched out his hand,
and, taking hold of the basket, bore on his stronger arm the
larger share of the burden until he reached his own home.


TOMMY TEALE was just six years old. It was his
birthday, but instead of having a good time to cele-
brate such a grand event, he had to take care of the baby.
His mother went out to do some errands and left him alone


with his little sister. Tommy felt very bad about it. Little
Nellie cried a good deal. Tommy did not know what to do
with her. He loved her very much, but did not like to take
care of her when she was cross.
As he stood at the window, Ned Brown came out to
play on the sidewalk. "Come out, Tommy!" he shouted.
" I can't," Tommy shouted back. "I've got to tend the
baby." Shut the door tight and she can't get out," Ned
said. Tommy thought it over. He knew more about
babies than Ned Brown did. Nellie might burn herself on
the stove, or pull the cover off the table, or break the lamp.
An idea came into Tommy's head. He ran to the closet for
the tacks and ham-
mer. He drove four
tacks through her
dress and fastened
her down to the
floor. When this
was done, he ran out
of doors as fast as his
legs would carry him.
In about an hour
Tommy's mother
came .home. He had
not shut the door
tight because he was
in such a hurry.
Right on the top step
she found the baby.
But her little fat neck
and arms were bare.
She had no dress on.
Her mother carried
her into the sitting-
room. There was
the dress nailed to
the floor. The baby
had torn it all off try-
ing to get away, and
it had to go into the
rag bag. Tommy
came in a few min-
utes after. He was
very much surprised to hear what his mother told him. I
never did see such a baby!" he .said. "I thought you
only wanted me to keep her out of mischief, and I guessed
the nails would do it, sure, but I was mistaken !"


FIGHT your own battles. Hoe your own row. Ask no
favors of anyone; and you'll succeed five thousand
times better than one who is always beseeching someone's
patronage. No one will ever help you as you help yourself,
because no one will be so heartily interested in your affairs.
The first step will not be such a long one, perhaps; but,

carving your own way up the mountain, you make each one
lead to another, and stand firm in that while you chop still
another out. Men who have made fortunes are not those
who had five hundred dollars given them to start with, but
started fair with a dollar or two. Men who have by their
own exertions acquired fame have not been thrust into
popularity by puffs begged or paid for, or given in friendly
spirit. They have stretched out their hands and touched
the public heart. Men who win love do their own wooing.
Whether you work for fame, for love, for money, or for any-
thing else, work with your hands, heart and brain. Say
"I will!" and some day you will conquer. Never let any
man have it to say:
"I have draggedyou
up--I have made
Vhiln you what you are."
Too many friends
cik hurt a man more
tha than none at all. Be
S' .. alive, watch oppor-
tunity, push hard
against the future.
You may fail of
some things, but
what of that? The
years will bring to
you the glad con-
sciousness of having
done your best,
which, after all, is
the great reward.
Are you ready and
waiting, standing tip-
toe upon the mount-
ain? I tell you that
out of the darkness
and the gloom will
come the glorious
dawn of opportunity
and the day's risen
splendor of triumph
and success.

AYS Daddy Long-legs: Come, stir up your pegs, my
children; the moonbeams are glancing! I'll show you
the way your grace to display-you've elegant members
for dancing." They tried' a quadrille on top of a hill; a
cricket choked outright with laughter. And even an owl,
that decorous fowl, shook with glee till he fell from a rafter.
The legs got all mixed, and twisted, and fixed in a curious,
comical muddle. Croaked a froggy near by, Oh, dear me !"
and Oh, niy!" then he stood on his head in a puddle.
When Daddy Long-legs had settled his pegs, he gasped:
" We're the equal of any; if two legs can shine in a dance,
I opine that we're dazzling, my dears, with so many!"



OUR Fred put his
Clipper back in
the wood-shed, then
took off his muffler
and went up to bed.
Soon after he found
himself up in the sky,
looking out for a hill,
for he wanted to try
his handsome new
clipper,"the best-look-
ing sled in the town
of New Portage," so
all the boys said. "I
have it! he cried, as.
he peeped round a
star, and saw a long
hill, stretching ever so
far. "I'm glad there's
no one to say, 'Stay
away from it.' I must have a coast on the tail of this
comet. It's a million miles long, and a thousand miles
wide, and after I'm started, I can just slide and slide, until
I get tired. Hurrah for my sled and a hill with no
end!" cried our happy boy Fred. The handsome new
Clipper shot proudly away, down the tail of the comet, and
Fred rode as gay as if he were king of the whole starry
sky. The Moon-man looked out and hailed Fred passing
by; each star raised a hat from its shining, bald head, and
bowed low to the being who traveled by sled. The Clipper
flew faster, and, by and by, Fred cried out, as he put his hand
up to his head: I'm dizzy. I wish I could stop. Oh, dear
me! That must be the
head of the comet I
see just ahead. What
a mouth !.'Twill swal-
low me sure, this mon-
ster comet! Oh!-"
Into the mouth slid B :
the Clipper and Fred,
and the very next
moment he.lay in his
bed, with both eyes ...
wide open, while out
in the shed, stood the ;
handsome new Clip-
per, "the best-looking
sled in the town of
New Portage," so all'
the boys said. Then
Fred knew that what .
he had seen was :
nothing at-all but a -; /' .
morning dream.


N EVER make an
assertion unless
you are positively
certain that you are
exactly right. Let
your reputation be
such among your
neighbors, that they
can depend on any-
thing you say, just
precisely as you state
it. If you sell a pound
of'sugar, don't give
your customers fifteen
ounces or seventeen,
but just exactly six-
teen. We remember
in our own experience
a man who was cer-
tainly not prepossess-
ing, either in appearance or in manner, who had built up a
trade which was excelled by none in the town in which
he was situated. We wondered at it, and finally asked
a friend who traded with the man referred to if he could
tell us the secret. "The whole thing," said he, "is that
if you buy a pound of meat or a pound of coffee of B.
you are certain of getting just exactly what you pay for."
That was the whole secret of his success. Make it a habit
of being accurate in everything, not only in what you say
and in your weights, but in everything you do. Never make
a single step until you are sure that is just what you want.
Be accurate in your writing. "Dot your i's and cross your
t's," is what our school
teacher used to ding
into our ears in our
boyhood days, and it
'. taught habits of accu-
racy which we have
."never had cause to re-
gret. In sending orders
to your agents, be ac-
curate in them; put
down just what you
want, and how you
want it, in such plain
language that you can-
; not be misunderstood.
V7 f.. Be very careful to get
'. .' your address right-
r street, number, town,
and county-and you
will save a great deal
of annoyance at the
office where your


order is received. In
making business engage-
ments, the same care
should be shown, and no
man who values his repu-
tation will neglect to keep
his word good when he
promises to receive a call
at a certain time, even if
the caller is a man with
an unreceipted bill.


HOW many of the
young people have
ever heard the story of
that simple-hearted,
brave soldier of Napo-
leon's empire, so long
known as the "First
Grenadier of France" ?
Born in the provinces,
La Tour d'Auvergne re-
ceived a thorough mili-
tary schooling, and en-
tered the army while
quite young. Through-
out a career of nearlytwo-
score years, he served
with fidelity and distinc-
tion, yet refused the
promotion which was
constantly offered him,
preferring, as he said,
the familiar duties of the
grenadier to even the
glories of a marshal.
Upon one occasion,
being on furlough, he
paid a visit to an old
friend in a section of the
country as yet remote
from actual war. While
there, he learned that a
detachment of several
hundred Austrians,
having in view the pre-
vention of a certain im-
portant movement of the
French, was on the
march to a spot where
this purpose could be
easily accomplished. To
reach this they must
pass through a narrow
defile, guarded by an old

This pig ~went to vncrket.

Arogs more frighlened than hme,

stone tower, which was
garrisoned by perhaps
half a company of French
soldiers. To warn these
of their danger in time
to prepare for defense
was the aim of our hero,
and, putting up a slender
store of provisions, he
started off To his dis-
may he found on arriving
at the tower that his
comrades had been only
too well warned already,
and had fled, even leaving
their muskets and a
goodly supply of ammu-
nition behind them. He
knew that if the Aus-
trians could be held in
check long enough to
allow the completion .of
the French manoeuvre,
by that time tower and
pass would be of little
use to either side. He
barricaded the doors,
carefully loaded all the
muskets, which he placed
in convenient positions
for instant handling.
made a good meal off the
food he had brought
with him, and then sat
down to await the enemy.
He was unmolested until
near dawn, when unusual
sounds without an-
nounced the Austrians'
approach. They .halted
at the mouth of the
defile, and almost imme-
diately an officer, bearing
a flag of truce, appeared
with a demand for sur-
render. D'Auvergne an-
swered the call, replying
that the garrison would
defend itself to the last,"
and the messenger, little
suspecting that the entire
garrison was comprised
in the person of the
single soldier who stood
before him, retired. A
small cannon was shortly


after brought to bear upon the tower; but our grenadier made
such good use of his weapons that half a dozen of the
Austrians lay wounded upon the ground before they could
fire a single shot. Finding this mode of attack ineffectual, an
assault was ordered; but, as the head of the column came
within range of the tower, so deadly a fire was poured upon it,
that it was ordered back amid great confusion. Two further
attacks were made, with like results, and when night fell the
solitary grenadier was still in possession of his stronghold,
and unhurt, while nearly fifty of the enemy were either killed
or wounded. Sunset brought a second summons to yield,

-- -
. . __---~- --

with an intimation that, if refused, a regular siege would be
entered upon, and kept up until hunger should compel sub-
mission. Deeming the twenty-four hours which had
elapsed sufficient time for the accomplishment of the
French move, D'Auvergne returned answer that the gar-
rison would surrender the following morning if allowed safe
conduct to the French lines, and permission to retain its
arms. These terms, after a little parley, were acceded to.
At daybreak on the morrow, accordingly, the enemy were
drawn up to receive the vanquished garrison. The door of
the tower opened, and a soiled and scarred veteran, literally
staggering under the weight of as many muskets as he

could carry, walked slowly between the ranks, and, depos-
iting his load at the feet of the colonel, saluted. To the
surprise of the latter, no one followed. But where is the
garrison, grenadier ?" asked he. "Sir, I am the garrison,"
replied the soldier. For a moment astonishment held the
Austrian dumb; then ordering his command to present
arms, and, raising his cap, Grenadier, I salute you," said
he; "so brave a deed is without parallel." The desired
escort was provided, and with it was sent a dispatch relating
the whole affair. When the circumstance became known to
the Emperor, the offer of promotion was renewed, and
again declined, and D'Auvergne remained to
the day of his death simply the "First Grenadier
of France."


THERE'S a funny old fellow, so I've heard
say, who comes along with the close of
day, with a big, big bag on his shoulders hung,
S and a shadowy mantle about him flung. Now
the funniest part of the story, dears, is this, that
nobody ever hears the old man's footsteps, so
quiet is he, and his queer old self nobody can see.
But what do you think he comes to do, 0 little
ones,gray eyed,brown eyed or blue? He sprinkles
sand on your eyelids white, as soon as 'tis time
to say good night; and the dear little eyes, so
heavy they grow, they droop, and at last close
tight, you must know; and, wrapping his mantle
around you fast, he carries you off to dreamland
at last. Would you know the name of this
wonderful man ? Ask nursey to tell you if she
can. Long ago, my darlings, when I, like you,
was a golden-haired child with eyes of blue, he
came to me with the twilight gray, and made me
weary, at last, of play, just as he comes to my
own little one even now, when the long, long
day is done.


"I SHOULD like to know," said a friend, "on
What ground you selected that boy, who had
not a single recommendation?" You are mis-
taken," said the gentleman; "he had a great many. He wiped
his feet when he came in, and closed the door after him, show-
ing that he was careful. He gave his seat instantly to that
lame old man, showing that he was thoughtful. He took off
his cap when he came in, and answered my questions
promptly, showing that he was gentlemanly. He picked up
the book which I had purposely laid upon the floor and
replaced it upon the table, and he waited quietly for his turn,
instead of pushing and crowding, showing that he was hon-
orable and orderly. When I talked to him I noticed that his
clothes were brushed, his hair in order, and when he wrote his
name I noticed that his finger-nails were clean. Don't you


call those things letters of recommendation ? I do; and I
would give more for what I can tell about a boy by using
my eyes ten minutes than all the letters he can bring me."

HOW far is it to Sleepy-land? Five miles, I think, by
Banbury Cross, you laugh so much at the ringing
bells, and you look so long at the old lady's horse.
Gaily she goes, with bells on her toes, and yours
to the music are keeping time, till I almost wish
that Mother Goose had never, never, invented a
rhyme. It's a long, long way to Sleepy-land, for
you meet Mother Hubbard and stop to chat, ask
whether she found her dog a bone, and what baker
and butcher and barber are at. And the little pig
that to market went, and the one that had not a
crumb to eat, till I tell them over and over again,
on the rosy toes of your restless feet. It's a very
long way to Sleepy-land, I'm sorely afraid we shall
never get there; there's no straight road and no
express train, and yet I am all the time paying a
fare; but your voice grows dreamy, your hand
drops down, you wink your eyes hard to keep them
bright; like the little old woman with her pig,
we reach Sleepy-land that very same night." -

D ICK found her in the orchard one morning.
Nobody knew where she came from; no-
body ever claimed her. She was a pretty little
creature, snow-white but for a tiny black spot on
the tip of her nose, making her look for all the
world as though she had been poking about among
the stove-pots and kettles. One day, Dick's wee
niece Maidie came. with her mamma on a visit to
the farm; and her bright eyes soon spied the little
white, furry heap curled cozily down beside the
stove. "Kitty dot dirty face," shaking her round
yellow head solemnly. Nose 'mutty; must be
washed." So she got a dish of soap and water
and scrubbed poor little Puff's black nose very
hard and long, until Puff thought of the pins in
her soft little feet and used them on Maidie's
hands. Then Maidie let her go. The next sum-
mer Puff became a proud and happy little cat
mother, with a family of three black-and-white
kittens in the loft over Dick's hen-house. Dick's
chickens were the delight of his heart. They
knew their names, and would come in a hurry
when he called them. One night he forgot to shut the
hen-house door. In the night there was a great outcry,
then-a squalling and cackling and a queer noise which
nobody knew what to make of altogether. Almost
the whole family rushed out to see what it was all about,
and there-there was a fox, a big red fox that had

come to make a supper on Dick's cochins. But he did not
even get a bite; for down out of the loft had dropped brave
little Puff, right upon his back, and there she hung, biting
and scratching. The fox was making the funny noise, which
wasn't a bark, nor a growl, but a little of both; and when he
heard them all coming, he scampered away to the woods
with Puff, who dropped off before long and came back.

Wasn't she praised and petted! And didn't she live on'
cream for a week! Of course, the older folks said she was
defending her family, but Dick always declared she did it to
save the chickens, because they were his, and because she
was-his own little cat. And to this day Dick declares that
Puff is the match for any fox alive.



ALEC and Elfie .,-7 .
were insepar- "
able. Alec was a
boy, and Elfie a lit-
tle puppy. The two.
grew up together, '
but the dog grew I'
old the faster; and .
when Alec was nine __- "
years old, and Elfie ---
seven, the event '
took place which I
am going to tell '
you. Alec had a
cousin, at whose // .
house he used to -. _
spend a good deal _- '
of his time. Little
Arthur was about he attack
four years younger
than Alec, and would follow him about, looking up to his
big cousin as an authority on all matters. He learned from
Alec to consider Elfie the most wonderful dog in the world,
with more sense than most people. He thought Elfie under-
stood everything that was said to him, and could do almost
everything he was told to do, and Alec and Arthur never
appeared tired of seeing Elfie go through the common dog's
trick with a piece of sugar on his nose. When the word
"Trust" was said to him, he let the sugar remain on the
tip of his nose, while he only squinted at it with all his might.
Directly he heard the words "Paid for," he would jerk it
into the air, and snap it up as it fell. Then for this he
would receive a bit
of cake or candy.
One morning,
Arthur's mamma .,
and I were sitting
under the shade of
some trees in the <
garden, working
and reading. We
knew that Arthur
was about some-
where in the garden
or the grounds with
his cousin Alec,
who we thought
was old enough to
keep the little one
out of harm's way. //-
Suddenly we heard i _. --
a sound of panting
and puffing, and saw Elfie tearing Gallant retire


at be

Across the garden
i toward us. With
.o his short legs and
long hair he ap-
peared as if he was
rolling over the
ground: his little,
.. red tongue was
.A hanging out of his

Could see his bright
ut -- S theyes gleaming with
tthe overhanging
S- n locks of hair.
"What can be
the matter with the
Sdog?" exclaimed
Arthur's mamma,
jumping up. "Has
he enemy. he gone mad?" As
she spoke, Elfie
began barking furiously,and seizing her dress in his mouth,
tried to drag her away. A thought struck me, and I cried
out: Something is wrong with the boys, and Elfie has come
to let us know." In the direction Elfie had come from, but
hidden from our view by trees, was a large piece of water;
towards this we hastened. Fortunately, Arthur's papa was
sitting in the library. We called to him as we ran, and he
followed as fast as he could. Coming in sight of the water,
our worst fears were realized. Only a few yards from the
bank, we beheld the canoe, bottom upward, and the boys
clinging to it, or, rather, Alec clinging to the canoe with one
arm, and with the other supporting Arthur, who had fainted.
The father plunged
in instantly, and in
a moment brought
Arthur to shore
and placed him in
his mother's arms.
Alec, left alone,
easily supported
himself until his
S -- uncle returned and
brought him also
n "on to the bank.
eThe fault was
Alec's, who had
taken the- canoe
without permis-
sion; but what
IA praise could be too
great'for Elfie, who
had probably saved
two lives by his
fore the foe. intelligence ?

The boys coming down the pathway know well what is in reserve for them.


IT HAD been a busy day in Snowland-class number six
were to have recess at eleven, and all through the
morning lessons had watched the clock with feverish eager-
ness. Class number seven were to be let out at noon-
time-one short hour of waiting-but that hour
was one of busy preparation. Hundreds of snowballs
had been made and arranged in convenient piles
outside the walls. Huge embankments had been piled up,
into which the noonday class were to be thrown pell-mell,
without regard to age or size. The ears of those lying in
wait tingle with excitement as they chuckle over the antici-
pated fun. What a surprise is in store for the number seven
class. How sudden will be the' onslaught on the enemy.
What a wild rush there will be, and what an overwhelming
victory for the lads of number six.
But sometimes the best-laid plans of even school-boys
will oft gang astray. One thing had not been thought of-
number seven had sent out adroit spies. From the attic

windows of the school-house, from a tall tree-top here and
there, and even from over the snow-covered wall, the scouts
had seen much and guessed more. The half dozen boys
slowly coming down the pathway know well what is in
reserve for them, but they also know that the largest and
bravest and best boys have gone out by another way, and,
making a swift detour, will fling themselves at a given
signal upon the rear of the attacking forces, while over
every foot of the wall a fresh soldier will be flung upon the
discomfited and routed foe.
Then will the tide of battle be turned. Then will the
boys of number six be hoist with their own petard,
pelted with their own snowballs and rolled in their own
embankments; while, with shouts of triumph, class number
seven will march proudly over the prostrate and snow-
covered forms of their enemies, with appetites made keener
by their jolly fight and well-earned victory, to the plenti-
ful luncheon awaiting them in the dining-hall.


THANKSGIVING had come and gone, in the little
western home, where Papa and Mamma Hall lived
with their two sweet children, Fannie and Carl, and pleasant
thoughts were already budding into plans for the holiday
season. Mrs. Hall had said to her husband: "We must
have the children's pictures taken to send East for the grand-
parents' Christmas gift." And the young mother sighed,
when she thought how far away she was from all her
kindred. Mr. Hall replied: "Yes, by all means; and the
new photographist has some fine specimens of his art on
exhibition, and is very popular, I hear, among the little
ones." Fanny and Carl were delighted, and could hardly
wait for the day to come, when mamma revealed her Xmas
scheme to them. "I will wear my dimity and lace apron
over my red dress," said Fannie. "And I'll wear my new
Vankyke collar Aunt Wuth sent me from Bostown," lisped
happy Carl. And, at the very last, Fannie's papa had con-
sented. that her hair might be banged for the occasion. Mr.
Hall did not like bangs; but when the barber had said it
was a good thing to strengthen and thicken the hair, and
that it would last twice as long when she grew up, he
demurred no longer. Do you know, little reader, why it is
called a bang? Because it is as though the hair had been
shot off by a gun-bang! Funny, isn't it? The long-
looked-for day came at last, and the happy trio are soon in
the artist's bright, sunny room. What pretty faces every-
where, smiling from their dainty frames; over yonder, here
and there; who are they all, and what are their names ?
"Oh, mamma," exclaims Fannie, "please come and see this
little girl in the daisy frame. May I look like her, and hold
my head just that way? And oh, goodie! I've got a bang
just like hers. Oh, come, come, mamma and Carl, here is
Mira Grey, with her hair all in a frouzle, and she don't look
happy a bit; and do see this little girl with a cap on, isn't
she sweet? Oh, mamma, do get a frame like that for Carl
and me, all covered with posies, and two little round windows
for us to look through at dear grandma and grandpa.
Could you cuddle up my bang like this little girl's,
mamma?" But the photographist is now ready. Carl is


seated first, and his darling round head
placed in the iron hand back of his chair,
and a woolly dog (not alive) stands on a
bench, which he is told to watch "just a
minute," when, "presto change," the camera
has caught him, dimples and all. Then
Fannie mounts the chair, and in a twinkling,
the big lenses catch her bonny face, just
as a glad ray of sunshine caresses the won-
Sderful bang.. "The pictures will be a
Successs" says Mr. Smily, soon emerging
from a dark room. "Good children always
make the best and loveliest pictures," he
says to the fond mother. Mamma might
. ha have made an objection to this absolute and
flattering assertion on the part of the artist,
for the homeliest child-face she had ever seen
in her younger day visioned to her the sweetest and sunniest
soul she had ever known.- "Can we see them?" "Can't
we take them home to show papa?" exclaim the excited
children. Fannie and Carl were greatly disappointed,
when informed that the pictures could not be finished at once;
but when, a few days later, the photographs were sent home
in a nice white box, their "true for truly" faces looking
forth from "two little, round windows," in a frame all deco-
rated with violets and green leaves, their delight knew'no
bounds; and no more precious or lovely gift blessed the
dear grandparents' hearts and home on Christmas day, than
the beautiful pictures of their beloved grandchildren, Fannie
and Carl, from way out West," whom they had never seen.



..- IT,.. A



hard-pressed warrior took refuge there
mind this explosion in the least;

in the aquatic exer-
ercises was followed
by the sudden
appearance of
pillows flying in
all directions,
; hurled by white
goblins, who
i, came rioting out
of their beds.
-- The battle raged
S in several rooms,
S all down the up-
Sper hall, and even
surged at inter-
vals into the nurs-
ery, when some
re. No one seemed to
no one forbade it, or

even looked surprised. Nursey went on hanging up tow-
els, and Mrs. Bhaer looked out clean clothes, as calmly
as if the most perfect order reigned. Nay, she even chased
one daring boy out of the room, and fired after him the
pillow he had slyly thrown at her.
"Won't they hurt 'em?" asked Nat, who lay laughing
with all his might.
Oh, dear, no! we always allow one pillow-fight Satur-
day night. The cases are changed to-morrow; and it gets
up a glow after the boys' baths; so I rather like it myself,"
said Mrs. Bhaer, busy again with her .mending.
"What a very nice school this is," said Nat, almost
longing to join in the frolic.
"It's an odd one," laughed Mrs. Bhaer; "but you see
we do not believe in making children miserable by too many
rules and too much study. I forbade night-gown parties at
first; but it was no use. So I made an agreement with
them-a fifteen-minute pillow-fight every Saturday night;
they to go properly to bed every other night."
It's a beautiful plan," said Nat, feeling that he should
like to join in the fray, but not venturing to propose it the
first night.
A few slight accidents occurred, but nobody minded,
and gave and took sounding thwacks with perfect good
humor, while pillows flew like big snowflakes, till lrs.
Bhaer looked at her watch and called out: "Time is up.
boys. Into bed, every man Jack, or pay the forfeit! "
"What is the forfeit?" asked Nat.
"Lose their fun next time. I give them rire
minutes to settle down, then put out the lights,
and expect order. They are honorable
lads, and keep their word."
That was evident, for the battle ended as abruptly
as it began-a parting shot or two, a final cheer as Demi fired

the seventh pillow at the retiring foe, a few challenges
for next time, then order prevailed; and nothing but
an occasional giggle or suppressed whisper broke the
quiet which followed the Saturday night frolic, as Mother
Bhaer kissed her new boy, and left him to happy dreams of
life at Plumfield.


"I WISH mother would never have company. A fellow
Can't get enough to eat when people are staring at
him." As I was visiting Frank's mother at the time, I
thought this remark was rather personal. I suppose I
blushed. At any rate, Frank added, "Now, Aunt Mar-
jorie, I did not mean you; I meant strangers, like ministers
and gentlemen from out West, and young ladies." Oh!"
said I. "I am very glad to be an exception, and to be
assured that I do not embarrass you. Really, Frank, it is
an unfortunate thing to be so diffident that you cannot take
a meal in comfort when guests are at the table. I suppose
you do not enjoy going out to dine yourself?" No," he
said; "I just hate it." Perhaps one reason why boys and
girls do not feel so comfortable and at ease as they might on
special occasions at the table is because they do not take
pains to be perfectly polite when there is no one present but
the ordinary home folks. In the first place, we owe it to
ourselves always to look very neat and nice at our own
tables. Boys ought to be very careful that their hair is
brushed, their hands and faces cleaned, their nails free from
stain and soil, and their collars and ties in order before they
approach the table. A very few moments spent in this
preparation will freshen them up, and give them the outward
appearance of little gentlemen. I hope girls do not need to
be cautioned thus. Then there are some things which good
manners render necessary, but about which every one is not
informed. You know that you are not to eat with your
knife. When you send your plate for a second helping, or
when it is about to be removed, leave your knife and fork
side by side upon it. Tt is not polite to help yourself too
generously to butter. Salt should be placed on the edge of
the plate, never on the table-cloth. Do not drink with a
spoon in the cup. and never drain the last drop.


f :-

-- -

a horse ?" No, uncle; but I am sure I can,"
answered Joe. "Please let me try. I'll take
hold of his mane with both hands, and hang
on as hard as ever I can." "Well, you may
try it. There is the trough, against that fence,
the other side of the barn. Look out that
old Billy does not give you a ducking."
" Never fear for me," cried Joe, riding away
in great glee.
He was a little city boy, and had come
out to the farm to make his uncle a visit.
He thought it great fun to take a ride on
It did not take him long to find th trough,a
for old Billy knew the way right well. Then
how it happened, Joe never could tell, Billy
put his head down quite suddenly, and right
over it slid the little boy, with a great splash
head first into the water. Of course he wasi
not hurt. He caught hold of the fence and
came out, dripping from head to foot. Old

Billy looked on rather surprised, but got his drink. He let
Joe lead him back to the barn, and how uncle John did
laugh at him. Joe laughed too, as -he went off to get on
some dry clothes. Though he took a good many rides after
that, he never forgot his first one on old Billy's back.


THERE was a great disturbance in the old garden corner.
The Asters were trembling with excitement. The
whole Pansy family looked with wide-open eyes on an
unheard-of state of things. Tall Phlox shook her head, and
even the grass blades in the border quivered with indignation.
Think of it," said Purple Pansy. Here we have lived by
ourselves undisturbed so long, and now dear old Peony is
taken away, and those vulgar plants stuck in her place!
Why, I heard the old gardener himself say to the new man,
that they were only fit for hens' food! Just fancy-to be
planted among flowers like us It is dreadful!" All the
flowers shivered together at the thought, and sadly shook
their leaves. Presently Sweet Pea said: "I, too, heard what
old gardener said, and the new one answered that they
were very fashionable now, and were used for decoration."
"Fashionable!" shuddered old-fashioned Phlox, glaring at the
small Pease-Maker. "Decoration!" exclaimed tiny Mignon-
ette. Let them stay where they are the fashion, and where
they decorate a place better than they can old Peony's."
It was plainly of no use to say a good word for the
strangers, who, when they came, were treated to nothing but
cross looks, and leaves turning their backs on them. They
were very cheery flowers, however, and when the sun shone
they revived from their wilted state of transplanting, and in
spite of cold looks they smiled back at their Sun friend.


In a few days they opened four new sunny blos-
soms, and there was no denying it, they did brighten
up the old corner a good deal. Indeed, the other
flowers were so surly and cross that the very bees
forsook them, and the butterflies and they went to
the newcomers for their honey. In the great
brown centres they found plenty, too.
One day Little Girl came down the walk with
Baby in his carriage. She stopped at her favorite
corner, and the flowers all brightened up, sure that
she would not prefer those glaring strangers to them-
selves. But they were amazed to hear her say:
" Oh, how pretty! Where did they come from?
What lovely flowers!" And Baby put out his hands
to the "booful flowers too. Neither could stop
to look at any of the other flowers in their
joy at the new ones. All the scornful ones
hung their heads for shame, and sadly
acknowledged the beauty of the yellow
strangers. If any of them had been there
in the fall, they would have seen the great-
est triumph of the Sunflowers. For their
dried heads were taken to the nursery, and
made a blazing fire for the children, who
also ate their sweet brown seeds. So they
would have had to acknowledge that Sun-
flowers were far more useful than they, even
if they were not so delicate.


WONDER was a little puppy and Roy
was his master. Uncle Job gave
Wonder to Roy on his birthday. The '-
puppy was a handsome little fellow, gray .
with black ears. Roy was very fond of
him. But Roy did like to play master.
Worst of all, he was fond of being a
severe master. When he played school
with his sister Jane's dolls, he liked to punish
them. This was not good in Roy; but,
then, he could not make the dolls ache.
He only broke their arms, and pulled out
their curls. When he tried to play horse
with Wonder he whipped him hard. This
made the puppy cry. He did not know
why he should be whipped. Then Roy
kicked him because he laid down. The
poor dog only laid down because he was
frightened. Wonder began to yelp, and
sister Jane ran out. What are you hurt-
ing poor Wonder for, naughty Roy?" she
cried. It does not hurt him," said Roy;
"he likes it." Wonder did like playing
horse, but it hurt him to be kicked. Per-
haps Roy did not know any better than to


fif 11

Ilr ~-F~L


say it did not hurt
him. Roy was only
four years old. "I
shall take Wonder
away," said Jane.
And so she did. Roy
was left alone. He
began at once to look
for another horse to
play with. Soon he
spied the wringer.
Nurse Katy had been .
washing for the chil-
dren, and the wringer
stood on the piazza. .
"Ah! There's a
horsey!" cried Roy. -
He went to the
wringer, and climbed 't '.
upon a stool which '
stood by it. He began
to turn the handle.
Around it went in fine style. "Get up !" shouted the little
boy, and began to whip his horse. But soon Roy grew
careless. All at once his fingers slipped in between the teeth
of the wringer's wheels. Oh, how hard those teeth did bite!
You would have thought so, had you heard poor Roy
scream. He could not get the finger out from the wheel.
But sister Jane came and helped him.
Roy sobbed sadly, and asked to have a rag tied on his
finger. He thought that was very grand. He had seen a
grown-up man with his finger dressed like that. "Shall I
put a rag on Wonder," asked his sister Jane, "where you
kicked him?" "Poor little Wonder!" sobbed Roy, putting
his aching finger be-
tween his lips,"I guess
it did hurt him!" "And
so you will be kind
and sweet to him after
this, won't you, Roy,
dear?" "I guess I will,"
said Roy. "And I'll
make up with him."
I hope Roy will not
forget it. It is cruel to
abuse weak animals,
even in playing horse.


O NE day Dean
Swift was in his
study, reading, when
the door was pushed
open, and a young
fellow came in with -.. ..

some game, and with-
out saying "By your
leave" or "With your
leave" he walks
over and flops them
across the dean's
knees, saying:
"There's some
game my father sent
you." "I'm obliged;
but I'd be more
obliged if you had
shown better man-
ners." "Well, I wish
I knew how." "Sit
down here, and I'll
show you how to
S' He took the game
.. i. in his hand and went
-" outside and shut the
door. Then he tap-
ped, and heard the young fellow cry out with a loud voice,
"Come in!" and what should he see but the young fellow
seated in the arm-chair and pretending to read a book !
"Please, Your Reverence," said the dean, as he removed
his cap with a graceful gesture, and made a bow, "my
father will be much obliged by your acceptance of this
game, which he has just taken." "Your father is a most
respectable man," says the lad, "and I'm sure you're a good
boy; here's half a crown for you. Take the game down to
the kitchen, and tell the cook she's to give you a good
dinner." He then got up and relieved the dean of the
game, who was so tickled at the lad's witty impudence
that he at once gave
him. half a crown.


W HEN you see a
1boy willing to
taste strong drink, you
may rightly suppose
that he will become a
drunkard. When you
see a boy looking out
for himself and unwil-
ling to share good
things with others, it
is a sign that he will
grow up to be a selfish
man. When you see
boys rude to each
other, you may know
that they will become
disagreeable men.


S '/ / ARNIER J.hn's pig had a Inug little
/ hi,'-'use, with a do,:orard under the
'"' s\weet-applr tree ; hie slept on a
/,\' mniattrcss ':, clean. ,\arm stra%,and
atL from a tliou-h. and lived at his ease.
One morning,as Pia.r-v % as drinking some milk
the heedless maid Kitty had hastily brought,
before he had time to wonder "What's that ?" a
spoon in his teeth was clumsily caught. "Oho !" said Piggy;
"I guess what this means; they want me to learn to eat with a
spoon; a fine beginning, and I have no doubt they're plan-
ning to dress me in clothes very soon. They'll furnish my
house with tables and chairs, and I shall have blankets and
sheets for my bed !' Oh, how Piggy squealed and capered
about, as he dreamed of his marvelous fortune ahead Next
day Farmer John found the lost silver spoon, and carried
it back to the house whence it came. His wife, when she
saw it, was thoroughly vexed, and Kitty, the heedless one,
bore all the blame. And because of the marks that Piggy's
sharp teeth had left on the handle and never would fade, for
many a day, and. for many a year, it was called "Piggy's
spoon by mistress and maid.


W ILLIE had a queer pet. It was a frog. His cousin
caught it in a fish-net, and Willie cried out: Oh,
Dick, give it to me Won't you, please ?" Give it to
you ?" asked Dick. "What could you do with it ? "Tie
a string to its leg and keep it," answered Willie. Dick
laughed, but gave him the frog. "Where can you keep it?"
asked mamma, when Willie showed her the queer, goggle-
eyed, wise-looking little creature. "I'm afraid it will die
without water." "I'll put him in the watering-trough.

That's good as a pond;" and Willie pulled the
string and made froggie hop down to the barn-
yard. Willie grew to be as fond of his frog as
ever a boy was of a dog. Just before going
to bed at night he led it down to the watering-
trough, and right after breakfast every morning
,. he took it out for a walk. When frightened or
i' disturbed it made a queer noise, which Willie
called singing, and it often croaked as loudly
Sas though it were back in the pond. About
this time, Willie's aunt Clara came to spend
'' a month with them. She was young and
S pretty, and also very kind and pleasant. Willie
soon loved her very much, as you will think
'P"P when I tell you what he did. Aunt Clara was
in poor health, and had so little appetite that
Willie's mother was constantly trying to think
of something that she could eat. One day
Willie ran in to his mother and put something
in her lap. It's for aunt Clara, mamma. I
couldn't bear to kill it myself, but I want her to have it,
cause I love her more'n I do a frog-but, oh, dear, I wish
it wasn't a singing frog!" And Willie's tears began to fall.
His mother would have laughed if it had not been so serious
a matter to her boy. Poor little fellow! He knew that
frogs' legs were considered a great delicacy, and he thought


they would be just the thing for his aunt. So, after quite a
struggle, he had given up his pet. His mother knew that
aunt Clara would as soon think of eating a snake as a frog,
so she said: "I'm glad you didn't kill it, Willie, because
aunty may not like frogs' legs, but I know she will like to

think of your love.'
Clara never forgot
that Willie had
given it up for her
sake, and she al-
ways afterwards
thought of him as
generous Willie.


GOOD morning,
little birdie-;
tell us again your
name." "Chick-a-
dee, chick-a-dee,"
answered little
black-cap. "Soyou
have come for your
breakfast of sun-
flower seed, have
you ?" Chick-a-
dee, chick-a-dee,"
was again his reply.
"Well, here it is,"
and I threw a hand-
ful on the snow
under the window.
" But where are
your companions?"
Little birdie only
sang as before,
chick-a-dee," and
then flew down and
began his work.
Taking up a seed
he would fly to a
tree near by, choose
a suitable twig, on
which he would
firmly hold the seed
with both feet, and
then peck and peck

SThe frog was not killed; but aunt


till he opened it, when he would seem to be the happiest bird
alive. H'ow rapidly does his little head, like a hammer, go
back and forth as he pecks away, scattering the bits of dark
chips on the snow beneath as with blow after blow he strikes
his sharp bill into the shell!. After drawing out the meat,
holding it tightly on the twig as at first, he quickly, eats it
up, piece by piece; and then down he goes for another.

By and by I happened to notice, that after pecking away at
the seed, as I supposed, eating it, he would fly off somewhere
for a minute before flying down for another seed as usual.
"Ah, little birdie thought I, "what does this mean ? I'll
find you out if I can." So the next time I followed him

with my eyes as he flew with the seed to a neighboring
lattice. There he be-
S gan looking sharply
--- in its crevices, as
:- though he wanted
Sa relish of spiders'
eggs to eat with his
seed; but he soon
S came back with an
empty bill. Chip-
ping out another
kernel, he went off
this time to an old
grape-vine, where I
saw him carefully
tuck his little mor-
S sel under the bark.
S- To make sure, hav-
S. ing noted the spot,
I took my hat and
went out to the
vine. Here I found
it, sure enough, just
where I saw smart
little black-cap put.
it, hidden under a
piece of loose bark.
... .. But whether for
himself, should the
snow come and
N- cover the seed on
1.' 1i the ground, or
.A whether for any
.- i I, 'hungry bird that
might chance to
'.4P' Ifind them, was he
thus laying by in
SI store, I cannot tell.
I, ,I ": T :YI",I ; ', ',l
41 IIi 1V1111;1SUNSHINE.
l,, Jl IVE us the man
"l ; ,, I who sings this
's Generosity. work! Be his work
what it may, he is
equal to any of those who follow the same in silent sullenness.
One is scarcely sensible of fatigue whilst he marches to music
The very stars are said to make harmony as they revolve in
their spheres. Wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness
and its powers of endurance. Efforts, to be permanently
useful, must be uniformly joyous-a spirit all sunshine--
graceful from very gladness-beautiful because bright.




'Tis Saturday morning in Flipperty school-
Flipperty school in Flipperty town-
And each little boy, on his own little stool,
Sits working out sums according to rule,
With face puckered up in a frown;
When, all of a sudden, clang! clang! peals the
Away go the Flipperty scholars, pell-mell!
Books, pencils and slates are thrown down.
Vacant and still is each little stool,
For no one's kept in at Flipperty school-
The school of Flipperty town.

Hard by Flipperty school is a wonderful gate,
Just erected by one Farmer Brown;
And the Flipperty scholars adjourn there in state

To ride and to swing. Oh! all hearts grow elate
As they crowd the bars right up and down.
The gate is wide open, the signal is given:
With a run and a push the great gate-horse is
driven !
Crash! crash! goes the catch. Thud! thud! goes
each pate!
Alas! for the hinges of Farmer Brown's gate!
Alas for the sad and terrible fate
Of the scholars of Flipperty town!

A moral there is (may it not come too late!)
This tragical story to crown:
Never ride on the bars of a wonderfud gate,
Lest yours be tkh sad and the terrible fate
Of the scholars of Flipferty town.




LITTLE Nannie Blossom was walking through a side
street of the village, where her mother had sent her on
an errand, when she saw a cow looking wistfully over a gate
that was tightly closed. Nannie was always very kind to
animals, and this seemed a good opportunity of doing a
good turn to one of her four-footed friends; so, saying very
softly: Poor old Mooly! she wanted to get home, did she ?
and there was no one to let her in," she opened the gate
and watched the
cow as she ambled
along irra very con- R
tented way; and
then carefully clos-
ing the gate again, ~
she hurried home
to the brown house
on the outskirts of
the village, where
her father and
mother lived. Two
or three evenings'
afterward, Mr.Blos- -
som, who had been --
reading the village
paper, that came out T J M e- e rQ r o
every week, sud- r m i n.on0
denly laughed, and h' L ,OL n c,
said: Poor neigh- & i--iii
bor Scribbs! he is f '
.in hot water again. And L -, 0oor r &ir
That man's posses- OOT
sions certainly do -Rl e boy a ~ Ic
give him a great 0 -a-dovvr \ t4,

Hear this, mother: e o i
"'Whereas, some
person or persons, un- C --
known, did, on the
afternoon of Tuesday
last, maliciously let a
strange cow loose in
my garden, to the .
destruction of sundry \
vegetables, they are
requested to call upon
the advertiser, who
promises to thrash
them within an inch of
their lives.
I don't believe anyone will accept this invitation,"
continued Mr. Blossom; but it certainly was a very mean
trick to let a cow loose in his garden., Who could have
done it?"
Nannie turned red, and then white, while her father was
talking, and finally burst into tears.
"Oh, papa!" said she, in a frightened tone, "I did it!"
"You?" exclaimed father and mother, in the greatest

astonishment. And then Nannie told them all about it;
and Mr. Blossom laughed harder than ever, while even
mamma could not help smiling a little at Nannie's reckless
way of doing a good turn.
It was a mistake," said Mr. Blossom, presently, and I
will take you to-morrow, Nannie, to explain the matter to
neighbor Scribbs. Don't look so frightened, child; he is
not half so bad as he talks, and with your father to take
care of you, there is nothing to be afraid of. It is the right
thing to do, Nannie." So Nannie went; but although she
was holding her fa-
their's hand tightly,
-r4 she fairly shook in
S4 her shoes when a
"I 4C' / DT- rVA/ grizzled man, with a
cross face, appeared,
/ry o0c.e mate, e I and stared at her as
)Y boy h 1 a if she had been acu-
,ou5e oL o raT j5iq a ,n riosity. "The little
Bit-e D'5 d J e-y gal who let the cow
-T re tvh d e in my yard, eh?"he

Sw a som had introduced
her."Never thought
of its bein' a little
gal. Now,what did
you go and do
that for, sissy ?"
"I thought she
belonged here,"
replied Nannie,
in a low voice.
"Well, she
Didn't, you see
"F do you s'pose
that critter did
when she got
into the garding?
Went right to work
on my primest
ruty-bagas,that I'd
been nussin' along
like sick children !
that is what she
did." Nanny won-
dered very much
what "rooty-beg-
gars" were, but she did not like to ask. "And now," con-
tinued the queer old man, "what do you s'pose I do to little
gals that let strange cows into my garding? The culprit
was smiling now; she did not feel afraid of him any longer.
"Why, when they are like you, I generally give 'em a posy."
And neighbor Scribbs pulled a handful of his prettiest
flowers, and told Mr. Blossom that he had a child to be proud
of. The old man and Nannie were good friends ever after.



I KNOW a little black-eyed boy, with tight curls all over
his head. He is very sweet and pleasant when things
go right, but he has days when everything seems to go
wrong, and then he is called Cross-Patch. His other name
is Frank. When
these days come
round, everybody
wishes it was night.
Cross-Patch comes
down to breakfast
with a red nose and
a snuffle, and drags
his feet along as
if they were flat-
irons. Papa hears
him coming and
says, "Falling
barometer, heavy
showers, and possi-
bly storms." Papa
says this as if he .
were reading the
newspaper, but he
is really reading
Frank. As Cross-
Patch comes into
theroom andbangs ,
the door, Tom, his
big brother, ex-
claims, "Indicative
mood!" and Susie, t
who goes to the
High School,
laughs and says:
"Objective case,.
and dis-agrees with
everybody in the
first person singu-
lar." "I don't care!
I ain't! and you
sha'n't laugh at
me," roars Frank.
little Lucy. "Come
here, Frank," says
mamma, very gen- s t
tly, "and tell mam-
ma what is the
matter." "Phebe got soap in my eyes, and she washed my
face hard in the middle, just as if I didn't have any nose at
all, and the comb stuck in my hair every time and hurt,
and-" "And you got out at the foot of the bed," says
provoking Tom. "No, I didn't. I got out at the side;
and isn'tt fair," cries Frank; "'tisn't fair, at all."

No," says papa, with a sigh, I see it isn't; it is very
cloudy and threatening; we shall have a storm."
Then they all laugh, and Cross-Patch gets worse and
worse. He sits down at the table and takes a baked potato;
it is hot and burns his fingers, so he pushes his plate away
very hard and upsets a glass of milk, and has to be sent
upstairs. He puts
an apple in his
C pocket and goes off
to school without
any breakfast. On
the way, a big, bad
boytakesthe apple
from him just as
he is going to take
R ^*jo 1 the first bite. At
0 school, things are
I w0" 0U 0om no better. The
a wyj5 1 ilh, hardest word in
6 a s W ar ] the spelling lesson
dli &u tto i K is t-h-r-o-u-g-h,
w yo0 u M d XiK through, and of
& I f gives him that
word to spell, and
AS t n angr he sticks in the
o ,; middle of it and
her 6 he can't get through.
d it aT o Then comes the
A( a ni dJqh 4 multiplication ta-
UM ble,andtheteacher
W40 W 0iU mI A'- asks him, Nine
t IWO low, q, times four?" and
Vie, W, Ihaw heanswers,"Sixty-
j B is& i W te three." The cross-
wise has got into
his brain, and he
keeps on saying
sixty-three till he
thinks it is right,
and then he is very
cross when he is
told to learn his
lesson and stay
after school to re-
cite it. As he goes
home he wishes he
lk & could meet the
"___ man that made the
spelling-book, and
the other man that made the multiplication table, so that he
might knock them both down and jump-on them with all his
might for a long time; but, as he doesn't see them anywhere,
he thinks he will play. b l.
He plays that the front gate is the spelling-book man, and
that the lantern-post is the man that made the multiplication



' `i~




table, and he sends the ball, first at one and then at
the other, with great fury. At last, in a very wild throw,
Cross-Patch hits the multiplication man-I mean the lantern-
post-on the head. The pieces come rattling down on the
sidewalk, and this dreadful noise frightens away all of the
crossness. Frank runs into the house to his mamma, and
tells her how sorry
he is, and begs her v-i -
to tell papa all I. ,-
about it, and gives _.. ... "
her all the money ---
in his little savings-
bank to pay for the
broken lantern.
Then mamma asks
him if he is sure
that Cross-Patch
has gone away en- <
tirely, and he cries
a great shower of f ,
tears and says, '
"Yes, mamma;
every inch of him ;"
and mamma gives
Frank some supper
and puts him to
bed, and tells him
to pray to the good '' "Oh, no, no, no!"
angels to drive Said the boy in blue
Cross-Patch very "I've made up my mine
far off in the night, That I will shoot yozn
so that he can't get I
back for a great I can't shoot frogs,
many days. They won't stand sti
Ker-splash they go und
The wheel of the mill

THERE was a A. 4
brood of young
larks in a field
of corn which was
just ripe, and the
mother, looking
every day for the ;i-','
reapers, left word
whenever she went I -
out in search of
food that her "-
young ones should
report to her all
the news they heard. One day while she was absent the
master came to look at the state of the crop. It is full
time," said he, "to call in all my neighbors and get my corn
reaped." When the old lark came. home the young ones
told their mother what they had heard, and begged her to
remove them forthwith. "Time enough," said she; "if he

trusts to his neighbors, he will have to wait a while yet for
his harvest." Next day, however, the. owner came again,
and finding the sun still hotter and the corn more ripe and
nothing done, There is not a moment to be lost," said he;
"we cannot depend upon our neighbors; we must call in

our relations;." and, turning to his

it to others, you may be sure that

son, Go call your
uncles and cousins,
and see that they
begin to-morrow."
In still greater fear
the young ones
repeated to their
mother the farmer's
words. "If that be
all," said she, "do
not be frightened,
for the relations
have got harvest
work of their own;
but take particular
notice of what you
hear the next time,

and be sure you let
me know." She
went abroad the
next day, and the
owner, coming as
before and finding
the grain falling to
the ground from
over-ripeness, and
still no oneat work,
called to his son:
" We must wait for
our neighbors and
friends no longer;
do you go and hire
some reapers to-
night, and we will
set to work our-
selves to-morrow."
When the young
ones told their
mother this-
"Then," said she,
" it is time to be off
indeed; for when
a man takes up his
business himself,
instead of leaving
he means to set

to work in earnest, and we must move." And when the
morrow came, the old lark's words proved to be true. The
bird family moved to a convenient field adjoining, as yet
unreaped. The farmer and his sturdy lads were early at their
appointed tasks, and by nightfall the corn was gathered in.



A PIN and needle being neighbors in a work-basket, and
both being idle, began to quarrel, as idle folks are apt
to do. I should like to know," said the pin, "what you
are good for, and how you expect to get through the world
without a head?"
"What is the use
of your head," re-
plied the needle,
rather sharply, "if
you have no eye? "
What is the use He ran in a hole
of an eye," said Right under the house,
the pin, "if there is And lay there as still--
something in it" As still as a mouse.
something in it ? "
I am more act-
I am more actWell, I don't care,"
ive, and can do Said the boy in blue;
more work than "I'll shoot a robin, and
you can," said the Bring him down, too."
needle. "You won't
live long." "Why \'III "Do," cried the cat;
not?" "Bec-ause "That will be nice,
you have always a And I will crunch all
stitch in your side," His bones in a trice"
said the pin.
"You're a poor, The blue boy took aim
crooked creature," But aimed not aright,
said the needle. Or, like cock-sparrow,
"And you are He shot in a fright."
so proud that you
can't bend without The robin he missed,
breaking your But killed the old cat;
back." "I'll pull His grandmother gave him
your head off if you A thrashing for that.
insult me again."
"I'll put your eye N
out if you touch me; ( i f
remember your life l
hangs by a thread,"I "//
said the pin. (
While they were
thus conversing, a
little girl entered,
and, undertaking to
sew, she very soon
broke offthe needle
at the eye. Then
she tied the thread
round the neck of
the pin, and attempting to sew with it, soon pulled its head -
off, and threw it into the dirt by the side of the broken
needle. Well, here we are," said the needle.
".We have nothing to fight about now," said the pin.
"Misfortune has brought us to our senses. We shall
never be of any more use now in the world."

It's a pity," said the needle, mournfully, and in a dying
tone, "that we had not come to our senses sooner. We
can only hope that our wrangling and sad fate will prove a
warning to others. How much we resemble human beings,
who quarrel about their blessings till they lose them, and
never find out they are brothers till they lie down in the dust
together, as we do."


;ORMA N, a
er's child,was in the
forest, sobbing. A
nobleman saw him,
and said, "Boy,
Sg what are you cry-
S ing about?" "Oh,"
said Norman, "my
father sent me to
buy medicine for
my mother, and I
have lost the purse
on the way. I have
looked for hours
and failed to find it.
What shall I do?"
B The nobleman
spoke aside to the
keeper, who pulled
a silk purse out of
his pocket, full of
gold, and said: "Is
this your purse?
And if it is not, this
one has perhaps
V/' as much money as
S, yours had." Oh,
\,r( no," replied Nor-
man; "mine was
,shabby, and there
was very little
money in it, and it
would be wrong for
me to take this one."
"Have you not a
second purse?"
said the nobleman
to the keeper. "Yes,
and perhaps this is
it?" exclaimed the keeper, as he produced an ugly, little,
leather purse. "Oh, yes; that is it!" cried Norman, joyfully.
The keeper gave it him back. The nobleman said: "And
I give you this one with the gold, as a reward for your
honesty; and when your mother has recovered, bring your
father to my house, and I will be a friend to both of you."



His brow is wet with honest sweat,
SO He earns whatever he can,
And looks the whole world in the
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till.
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him. swing his heavy
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from
Look in at the open door;

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;


They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning, sparks that fly,
Like chaff from a threshing floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

JIt sounds to him like her mother's
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he
A tear out of his eyes.

Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought!



THERE they lay-I don't know how many of them-
the little Pop children. They were all in rows, close
side by side, quiet as could be. They all wore black night-
caps. Their father was Mr. Pop Korn, and the little ones
were Pops, too. Once
they had green curtains
to their cob bed, and a
silky plume foracanopy.
Now the curtains were
braided up with other
bed-curtains, several
families of Pops being
together in a bunch.
Perhaps the little Pops
were tired of this, but
they did not complain.
One day theywere taken
down by a rosy-cheeked
boy. They were car-
ried into the kitchen. .
What joy! Now there
was to be some play.
A dozen children were B
there. They jumped
about the floor when
the Pops came in. Then -.
the boy began to rub
and tickle the little Pops
with his thumb and
fingers. Howgladthey
were! They jumped !
from their bed into a
dish. 'The children
laughed, and so the lit-
tie Pops felt cheerful,
too. Most of them did,
but some of them did
not want to make
folks happy. These did ,
not jump into the dish. .
They dropped to the
floor. They rolled off
and hid in corners.
Some of them bounced
under the stove. Lazy
folks very often run The hens hav,
away from their duty.
The good Pops were shown into a cozy frying-pan. This
was set upon the stove. Oh, how warm the fire was! The
little Pops felt their hearts swell with the heat. Pretty soon
one of them cried Pop" with great glee, and hopped into
the air. His black night-cap was gone. He had a fresh
jacket, all snowy white. Down he came, pat, upon the
floor. Then the other Pops began to dance and leap. What


a chorus of them! "Pop, pop, pop, pop!" The children
scampered to pick them up. Each white and sweetPop was
kissed by the little ones' red lips. Then all the teeth went
" munch, munch," and the boys and girls were full of delight.
The little Pops had made them all happy. But the other
Pops, who rolled into corners and under the stove, what
became of them? They
were swept out of doors
intothecold. Therethe
hens picked them up.
The hens said, Cluck,
cluck!" Theywere glad
to swallow the lazy
Pops. But I would
rather pop for the
children than hide un-
der the stove. And
I would not like to
be swallowed by a
S, hen. Would you?


I' A STORY is told of
-' a king who had a
,.- bell put up, so that any
o ne who was injured by
another might ring it,
when the king assem-
bled the wise men, that
justice might be done.
From long use, the
lower end of the rope
was worn away, and a
piece of wild vine was
Sfastened on to lengthen
it. It so happened that
a knight had a noble
Horse, which had served
himlong and well, but,
having grown old and
useless, was meanly and
cruelly turned out on
tthe common to take
care of itself Driven by
hunger,; the horse began
biting at the vine, when
ast of pop-cor. the bell rang out loud
and clear; and lo! the
wise men assembled, and finding that it was a half-starved
horse that was sounding the call, and thus asking for justice,
though he knew it not, examined into his case, and decreed
that the knight whom he had served in his youth should
feed and care for him in his old age! And the king con-
firmed the decree, adding to it a heavy fine if the knight
in future neglected his duty to the faithful animal.

WE CAN REDUCE By furnishing you with
hard-wood floors. Inorder
YOUR HOUSEKEEPING to prove how much time
TROUBLES ONE-HALF and labor would be saved
by the use of our floors,
it is only necessary to call the attention of the ladies to the
fact that housecleaning once or twice a year means that the
house must be turned topsy-turvy simply to take up the
carpets in order to free them from dust and clean the floors.
All the other work can be done at convenient times during
the year without extra labor or expense.
Let us call and give you an estimate.

Plants, Shrubs,
Trees and Bulbs.
Write to us for Catalogue.

We do Landscape Gardening, and make Plans and
Estimates for Planting.
We have the finest collection of Shrubs from China,
Japan, France and England, in the United States.

B. A. Elliott Co.

. 54 Sixth Street,


Wear Like Iron
Fit Like a Glove.
Little'folks can romp all they want
in our "Wear-Well" Shoes--
can't kick 'em out or scuff them
out, they just fall to pieces of old
age. For school boys, the Iron
King is the ideal shoe.
If you get your shoes at VERNER'S they'll
fit your feet, and the price will fit your
pocket- book.
Fifth Ave. and Market St.

CO., Ltd and RGAN
Call and Hear the CONCERT

101 & 103 Fifth Avenue,

Near Smithfield Street,

7507i 6 Miles of
5 6 Wall Paper


(i,o092,ooo Rolls)

Sold by our store in the past fifteen months. We do not
think there is any other Wall Paper Store in the country
(certainly none in Pittsburgh or Allegheny) that has sold
the above amount of paper in the same time.
Buying and selling'paper in immense quantities ena-
bles us to keep our stock always fresh" and "up to date;"
it also enables us to BUY at the right price and
SELL at the right price.

Salesroom, 83 Ohio Street, Allegheny.
Warehouse, 14, 16, 18 & 20 Sandusky St.

Scheduled for Passenger Traffic,
Run via

General Manager. General Pass. Agent.

g-Always the Best.
ThisStandard American Powder is used and endorsed by thousands of the very best fam-
ilies throughout the country. Each can contains a small tin measure to use instead of a spoon
-hence mistakes are utterly Impossible.
The"BANNER" issold by Grocers in Quarters, HalvesPoundsandFive Pound Tins-only,

I _


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C' -


A large 48-page folio, printed from new and elegoit type, on

the finest toned paper, containing some of the best o0dU engravings

ever shown in this country, and bound in covers handsomely deco-

rated with colored lithographs. Sunshine is edited by the Rev.

J. Henry Smythe, D. D., LL. D., and the reading matter has been

carefully selected to secure the highest literary and artistic value.

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