Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Mother's boys and girls
 All about April fool
 Daisy and Alice
 A dear little goosie
 Mamie's trouble
 The grumblers
 A walk after dark
 Tommy's mamma
 What keeping still did
 Getting ahead
 The boy who couldn't be truste...
 A recommendation
 Seeing and hearing
 A visit
 Father's helper
 Our Louise
 Daisy's prayer
 Afraid of her shadow
 Sad, or glad
 Susie's toast
 A quarrel
 The workers
 Not happy
 A positive girl
 A cross girl
 What baby thinks
 Charlie and Rob
 Nellie's morning prayer
 A golden thought
 Baby Bess
 Reuben, and Rover, and Ruff
 An owl-ey time
 The missionary box
 What Tiny thinks
 Lost Nellie
 An old story
 Our Jessie
 Trying to amuse Willie
 Being good
 Lulie's troubles
 Who'll settle it
 One little figure
 A colloquy
 Two boys
 Wise Alice
 "Not for sale"
 Tiny's word
 What Blanche thought
 Two kinds of people
 Louise Browning's lesson
 Brave Tommy
 Wandering Meg
 Fanny Gleason
 Old times
 The Esselstynes; or, Alphonso and...
 "I'm hard of hearing, you...
 Poor Ethan Wells
 Fred, and Lulie, and Pussycat
 Mother Blake's home
 A talk
 Tommy Tinker having fun
 High life
 Back Cover

Group Title: Pansy's boys and girls story book
Title: Pansy's boys and girls story book by Pansy (Mrs. G.R. Alden)
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00085530/00001
 Material Information
Title: Pansy's boys and girls story book by Pansy (Mrs. G.R. Alden)
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 24 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Pansy, 1841-1930
Close, A. P ( Illustrator )
Plympton, A. G ( Almira George ), b. 1852 ( Illustrator )
Kilburn, Samuel Smith ( Engraver )
Herrick, Henry Walker, 1824-1906 ( Illustrator )
Dalziel Brothers ( Engraver )
Lothrop Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: Lothrop Publishing Company
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: c1896
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Temperance -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Orphans -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Adoption -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1896   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1896   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1896
Genre: Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Summary: Children's stories and poems on a variety of topics, including the evils of drink.
General Note: Illustrations signed A.G. Plympton, Kilburn, Close, Herrick, and Dalziel and frontispiece printed in colors.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00085530
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002224435
notis - ALG4699
oclc - 234236941

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Front Matter
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
    Title Page
        Page 6
        Page 7
    Mother's boys and girls
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
    All about April fool
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
    Daisy and Alice
        Page 39
        Page 40
    A dear little goosie
        Page 41
        Page 42
    Mamie's trouble
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
    The grumblers
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
    A walk after dark
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
    Tommy's mamma
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
    What keeping still did
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
    Getting ahead
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
    The boy who couldn't be trusted
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
    A recommendation
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
    Seeing and hearing
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
    A visit
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
    Father's helper
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
    Our Louise
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
    Daisy's prayer
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
    Afraid of her shadow
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
    Sad, or glad
        Page 111
        Page 112
    Susie's toast
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
    A quarrel
        Page 118
        Page 119
    The workers
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
    Not happy
        Page 124
        Page 125
    A positive girl
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
    A cross girl
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
    What baby thinks
        Page 133
        Page 134
    Charlie and Rob
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
    Nellie's morning prayer
        Page 147
    A golden thought
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
    Baby Bess
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
    Reuben, and Rover, and Ruff
        Page 159
        Page 160
    An owl-ey time
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
    The missionary box
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
    What Tiny thinks
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
    Lost Nellie
        Page 175
        Page 176
    An old story
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
    Our Jessie
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
    Trying to amuse Willie
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
    Being good
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
    Lulie's troubles
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
    Who'll settle it
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
    One little figure
        Page 203
        Page 204
    A colloquy
        Page 205
        Page 206
    Two boys
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
    Wise Alice
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
    "Not for sale"
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
    Tiny's word
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
    What Blanche thought
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
    Two kinds of people
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
    Louise Browning's lesson
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
    Brave Tommy
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
    Wandering Meg
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
    Fanny Gleason
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
    Old times
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
    The Esselstynes; or, Alphonso and Marguerite
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
    "I'm hard of hearing, you know"
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
    Poor Ethan Wells
        Page 303
        Page 304
        Page 305
        Page 306
        Page 307
        Page 308
    Fred, and Lulie, and Pussycat
        Page 309
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
    Mother Blake's home
        Page 313
        Page 314
        Page 315
        Page 316
    A talk
        Page 317
        Page 318
        Page 319
    Tommy Tinker having fun
        Page 320
        Page 321
        Page 322
    High life
        Page 323
        Page 324
        Page 325
    Back Cover
        Page 326
        Page 327
Full Text

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Copyright, x896,

All rights reserved.


FIRST I must show you their pictures, andc
introduce you to them. Here are Nettie and
Louise, perched each side of the kitchen stove.
Just after the tea dishes are washed, and'
the water thrown out, and the pan hung away,
and everything made tidy for morning;


Nettie's bowl and spoon are standing on the
table, and she has sat down to rest her feet
and arms, and have a little growl with Louise
before she stirs up the breakfast cakes. The
truth is, both these girls are rather tired; they
have spent-a good deal of the bright day in
the kitchen.
Kitchen work is funny," Nettie said, rest-
ing her elbows on her knees, and her chin in
her hands. You no sooner get it done, than
it begins again; now it isn't five minutes
since I washed that yellow bowl, and you
wiped it, all clean, and now I've got to go and
stick it up again, with sour milk and oatmeal;
what's the use in doing things? Why could
not we just as well have left it as it was?"
"There are different kind of stickiness,"
Louise said, Oat, meal makes one kind, and
corn meal another, and I don't suppose the
two-stickies mix well together."
Nettie sighed. "Well, it's all stickiness,"
she said gloomily; then, after a little, "weren't
those biscuits just horrid to-night? "
"Awful "
"Great, heavy things, with yellow streaks
all through them !"


"And Aunt Helena said they were lovely 1"
"She thinks we don't know any better, and
she must say so to please us. Nice to- have
her here all summer to please, isn't it?"
Humph'! I don't want anyone to tell lies,
to please, me, even about biscuits, do you?"
Maybe she really thought they were-good;
-she lives in a city boarding house, you know."
No, she didn't; I saw her curl her lip at
them behind her napkin, and shake her head
at Fanny for. taking another. I think that
was rude. Mother wouldn't have done that,
if she isn't a city lady."
"Mother knows more than most ladies do;
how nice she was about the biscuits, She
just said, Nettie very seldom fails in her bis-
cuits.' And then she let it go; she.didn't
keep up an everlasting talk about them, as
though biscuits were the only important
things in the world; and she didn't say they
were good, when they weren't."
"I wonder what they will turn into by Sat-
urday night, when we have our story?"
What "
"Why, I hope you don't think you have
heard the last of those biscuits?- You see if


mother doesn't dish them up in some way, for
Saturday night. I saw her shake her head
at Harley for making wry faces, when Aunt
Helena said they were lovely; and she saw
Aunt Helena behind the napkin; besides, she
-saw how cross and glum we looked; it was
my-fault that they were. doughy, you know.
Oh, we'll hear from them. I don't know
whether they will be cookies, or doughnuts, or
-what,-but mother will get them up in our
story. "Fanny stuffed them in as though she
was starved; mother saw that too."
Well," said Nettie; I'm glad I threw the
last one in the cow's pail; I hope it won't
choke her; now I must mix up this sticki-
ness; then we'll be done with messes for
this day."


THIS is mother's boy Robbie; handsome
fellow, isn't he! He is only six years old,
but such a great, splendid looking boy that
people are always saying:
"Why, is it possible 'that your Robbie is
only six!"
On the morning when this picture was
taken, he had sat down on Pero's back to rest
a bit, and think out a question in moral phil-
osophy. You think he was young to be
thinking about such big words? Indeed, I
assure you he had a great deal to do with
those words, just as you have, for that mat-
ter. Perhaps I can best tell you what sort of
a boy he was by explaining the question he is
trying to decide. You see he has his bat in


his hand, and his ball at his feet. The point
is this:
As he was passing the side gate, young
Tom Stuart, who lives just around the cor-
ner, called out to him:
"Come over here, Robbie, and have a
game; we've got our new balls: Freddie is
here, and John; come on !"
I dare say you all know just how much he
wanted to go.
Four boys to play with, instead of racing
around the garden with only Pero to catch his
ball! Why doesn't he go? Did mother tell
him not to? No; instead, she told him he
might go out for an hour, and have a good
game; now mothers know that boys can't
have good games of ball alone.
Besides, mother thought a great deal of
Tom Stuart, and he and Robbie were always
together. What was the matter? Just this.
Freddie is here, and John," Tonf had said:
Now it so happened that it was only yes-
terday morning that'mother had said, while
she was combing Robbie's curly hair:
My boy, mother doesn't like the way that
John Wheeler acts. I saw him on the street


yesterday, and at the corners, when I was
down town, and I don't think he is a nice boy.
Mother doesn't want you to be with him any
more than you can help. Don't go down
street with him any more."
"No 'm," said Robbie; and he hadn't
thought much about it since.
John Wheeler wasn't one of his friends,
and he didn't care much about going down
street with him. But here he was over in
Tom Stuart's yard, playing with the boys!
That was mean; when Robbie wanted so
much to go. He talked to Pero about it.
Mother didn't say I mustn't play ball with
him, Pero;- she just said she didn't want me
to-go.down street with him any more. Now
Pero, playing ball isn't going down street,
you know."
Bow, wow! said Pero.
"But, then, you see, she said she didn't
want me to be with him any more than I
could help; I could help going over there, I
suppose, but I want to, awfully."
"Bow, wow said Pero.
"Oh, bow, wow! what has that got to do
with it; I say I want to go and play ball. I


don't want to go .over there to see John
Wheeler, and I am sorry he is there, but I
can't help it."
Bow, wow wow !" said Pero.
'Come, Robbie called Tom Stuart. "We
are waiting for you; there is just time for a
prime game.
"I can't come!" shouted Robbie, back to
"Why? Did your mother say you
couldn't? "
"I haven't asked her!" yelled Robbie;
"you needn't wait for me; I can't come this
morning." Then he said to Pero: "and I
ain't going to ask her, either. You and I know
what she meant; don't we, Pero?"
That's the kind of a boy Robbie is.
a S



You remember Aunt Helena? This is her
Fanny; she was spending the summer at her
aunt's, and always came in for her share of
the Saturday evening stories; and, in fact,
she had her share in most of the good times
that mother got up for her boys and girls;
so she shall count as one of them. Isn't she
having a high time, though!
Rain? I should think so! Why, rain was
no name for it; it poured: Everybody said
there hadn't been such a hard shower in forty
years Thunder and lightning, too. Terrible
storm. Everybody who could stay in a safe
and sheltered place, stayed there. No, I am
mistaken; Fandy didn't. She was all alone
in her room when the rain began; as she
watched it come down in torrents, she said:
"Oh, dear me! I wish there was some big


reason why I ought to rush out in all this
rain I what fun it would be! I never was out
in a real hard, splendid rain in my life. -I
just wish I was a beggar girl without any
home, then I could stay out in any kind of
storm I liked."
Sensible- girl, wasn't she? She never
stopped to think that she would be able to
stay out because she would have no place to
stay in !
At that moment, her eye caught sight of
fhe hogshead of water, standing under the
spout; it was bubbling up in great white
foam, and pouring over the sides like a little
Oh, my!" Fanny said, "see that water
waste! It ought to be saved; good, nice
water running away. I believe Uncle Fred
would like to have it saved. If that hogshead
was deeper, it would hold a good deal" more.
It might have a row of those great stones
built all around it; that would make it a good
deal bigger. The water couldn't get through
those great stones. It ought to be done.. I
just believe I'll go out and do it."
No sooner said than done. She waited to









I i


I I ~


slip on her water-proof, and her nice white
sun-bonnet, that had been bought for her to
wear in the- country, and out she slipped
through the back hall, down the back stairs,
and went to work.
Doesn't she look nice? Think of trying to
build a hogshead larger by putting a row of
stones around it; mother's Robbie would
have shouted over such an idea, but Miss
Fanny had always lived in the city, and it
was wonderful how little she knew about
some things.
"What could have possessed you!" Aunt
Helena said, for the fourteenth time, as she
shook out, and turned, and mourned over the
ruined dress, and pointed to the French kid
boots lying in a shriveled heap by the kitchen
I wanted to save the water," pouted
Fanny. It was running away awfully, and
I knew Uncle- Fred would like to have it
What an ideal What did you think had
become of the two great cisterns running
over full of water; that a special barrel must
be built to save some more!" And then


Aunt Helena laughed; it seemed so very ab-
I didn't think of the cisterns," Fanny
said, looking foolish; I truly thought the
water ought to be saved; and though it was
such a dreadful rafn, it seemed to me it ought
to be done; so I did it."
Just hear the child! said Aunt Helena,
laughing again; "she thinks she has the af-
fairs of the country on her shoulders; and if
there is anything that ought to be done, she
must do it, at whatever sacrifice. She has
been so, ever since she was born."
The mother in this home looked sober and
asked her niece just one question:
Fanny, did you very much dread going
out in the rain?"


Miss WINNIE WILBUR, at your service.
She is at the glass, where she is fond of be-
ing. She ought to have lived in New York -
with Aunt Helena. She would certainly
have never thought of going out in the rain
to save rain water The story of the looking-
glass, which has this picture for a beginning,
is very queer:
Winnie went on an errand for Aunt Helena,
to the great house on the hill, where they
have all sorts of lovely things. She was
shown up to Mrs. Emerson's room, and left
there to wait, while that lady answered Aunt
Helena's note. She amused herself by look-
ing in the glass, as you see. It was six times
as large as any at home, so Winnie thought.
She could see herself from head to foot, and


she tried to make a bow like Aunt Helena,
now that she had a chance to see the effect.
Then she tried to courtesy as Cousin Fanny
said she did, when she went to dancing school.
It was very fascinating sport.
Winnie looked about her for something to
try on. The bed was piled high with finery,
for Mrs. Emerson's trunks were being packed.
What fun it would be to try on her white
hat! It was tried, -- it looked lovely, so
Winnie thought; and she put a sash on with
it, but the sash was too long; it dragged on
the floor.
If I only had a long dress on," said Win-
nie, it would look lovely." It would be so
easy to slip on one of those dresses. That
blue silk, trimmed in white lace would match
the blue and white sash beautifully.
She slipped the skirt on; and almost held
her breath over the effect. How grand it was
to be dressed up! If she could only be a
grown up woman, right away, and live in a
grand house like this, and have wonderful
dresses, how happy she would be I
.She heard some one coming up-stairs; it
put her in a great flutter. What if it were


Mrs. Emerson, coming back? What would
she think. In great haste and dismay Winnie
tugged at the silk sack she had slipped on,
and tried to get out of it; in her haste, her
hand knocked against the delicate toilet bottle
of pink glass, and over it went!
"Oh, dear me!" said Winnie, dreadfully
frightened; "what shall I do?" and she hur-
ried to pick it up. It wasn't broken Yes,
it was! No, it wasn't! But, oh, dear, dear!
There was a crack! Yes, and a little bit of
a nick right out of the top! How perfectly
She got all the fine clothes off, and laid on
the bed, and was just lifting off the stylish
bonnet when Mrs. Emerson came in.
"What in the world are you doing, child,
with my bonnet?." asked Mrs. Emerson, look-
ing at her with two great blue eyes, that
seemed to see right through her.
How ashamed Winnie felt! But that was
nothing to having to tell about the vase. Let
me remind you that she did not for a moment
think of not telling about it, because she was
her mother's daughter, you see; she would
have been ashamed to do such a thing.


I am very sorry!" Mrs. Emerson said,
speaking coldly; "I think a great deal of
those vases; I wouldn't have left some chil-
dren here, but I thought Mrs. Wilbur's little
girl could be trusted !"
As Winnie walked home, the thought that
made her cheeks the reddest was that she had
disgraced her mother.

TI .4
...44 ,x '-,- ,. ,i. ,.br) ., ,,


OH, here is the baby I Little Ned; papa's
boy. Blue eyes and frowsly hair, like papa's.
He has been out to play; let me tell you what
he has done.
It is twenty-five minutes by the clock since
he started-; in the kitchen he saw the milk
pail standing, the milk not strained; there
was a plate with slices of bread on it stand-
ing beside the pail. Ned thought what a
great big bread and milk" that would be I
So he popped in the bread and watched it
sail around for a minute,- then he went on
his way.
In the back kitchen there was washing go-
ing on; a bottle of blueing stood on the
bench. Ned took it up; it was a nice, pretty



color; he wondered if it would make his
brown dress, that lay in a little heap on the
floor, into a blue one? What harm could
there be in trying it? So he poured the con-
tents of the bottle on the little brown dress.
"My sakes!" he said; what a puddle!"
Then he went on.
At the pump in the back shed was a pail
brim full of water. Ned thought the flowers
ought to be watered. He tried to lift the
pail, but it wouldn't lift; so he tipped it over
and told the water to run "right straight
down to the flowers." It had to run along
the plank walk to get there.
"Dear me!" said Ned, "a little of it did
spill right on my shoe; I must go in the sun
to dry it." So he went.
Papa was painting the fence. His paint
pots and brushes sat there by the gate. Papa
had gone around to the other gate to speak
to a man.
I'll paint," said Ned. "Then papa will
find it all done when he comes; won't that be
nice So he took the grey brush and
dipped it into the white paint, and put a dab
on the gate. "My sakes!" he said, "that


isn't the right color. I'll have to take the
green paint."
So he dipped the same brush in the pot of
green paint, and put a dab of green over the
white. He didn't like the looks of it, and as
he heard papa coming, he trotted on.
Taking a peep in at the barn, he discovered
that Whitie was off her nest.
"Oh, oh," he said; I wonder if little bits
of chickies that Nettie said were going to
come in these eggs, have got here; I mean
to look, and if they are here, I'll carry them
all to mamma."
Then he went to work. Smash! Crack I
Sizzle! went one after another of poor
Whitie's eggs, that she had been patiently
sitting on for more than a week.
"There isn't a bit of any chickie here; and
oh, my sakes, what a smell !" and his dainty
nose went up.
"Why, Neddie Wilbur !" screamed Aunt
Helena, right at his side.
"What in the world are you doing? Oh,
you naughty boy!" as Ned, in his fright at
her words, let the last egg smash and spatter.
Some of it went on Aunt Helena's white


wrapper. She seized little Ned with no gen-
tie hand and dragged him to mother.
"Here is a child who will have to be
Mamma groaned a little; during the twenty-
five minutes that he had been gone, no less
than five people had been to complain of him.
But when Ned put his dear frowzled head
close in her neck, and said:
Ned wasn't naughty, he helped; and he
brought you a dangyline," what could she do
but love him ?


AND here, last, but not least, in this list of
mother's boys and girls, comes Harley, or
Hal, as all the boys call-him; in fact, every
one.calls him Hal.
He is the boy that is always getting into
mischief ; not such outrageous mischief as his
young cousin Ned, but scrapes of one sort or
other that tales time and trouble to help him
out of he is the queerest fellow for a city
boy I He hates the very sound of that word;
and is sure that if he could live with Uncle
Fred always he would be a good boy; but he
doesn't act.as though he would be.
"You ought to set little Robbie a good ex-
ample,"-says his mother to him, a dozen times
a day.


But the truth is, Robbie is 'the one who
sets the good example, and Hal does the mis-
chief. He is the boy who is always being
"Why he did this," and why he didn't do
And he always answers:
I didn't think," or I forgot," or I meant
to, and didn't," or some of those changes that
mean the same thing. He is one of those
fellows who always leaves doors and gates
open, and bars down, and whistles when he
ought to study, and goes fishing when he
ought to be in school. In fact, he almost
never, by any chance, does just exactly the
thing he ought to do. And yet, everybody
smiles when they speak of him, and hunt him
up when they get in trouble; and say he is
the most mischievous fellow that ever was
born, and the most careless; and the best
swimmer in town, and the best ball player in
the lot, and the best fisher who goes to the
trout brook; and the most good natured, un-
selfish, heedless youngster that was ever
made. That is Hal.
In the city he always has to wear boots.


When he comes to Uncle Fred's, he takes his
revenge by never wearing them, except on
Sunday while he is in church.
I might tell you of dozens of pranks of
Hal's; and I dare say I shall, before I get
through-but what is the use? There is
really no end to his scrapes; he no sooner
gets out of one, than he tumbles straight into
Yet, of all the boys in town, he is the one
that you want if you are in need of a little
good natured, unselfish help of any kind.
Uncle Fred threatens to call him I didn't
think," but he laughs when he says it, and
adds that Hal's thoughtlessness always stops
this side of anything cruel, or mean.
He might be a much happier boy if he
only would think; a great many times he ap-
pears like an idiot because he doesn't; and
yet I must say I can't help loving Hal, and I
never saw anybody who knew him that
did help it.
Well, all these boys and girls had a certain
Saturday hour when-mother,--the real home
mother at Mr. Wilbur's, sat in the little west
room, with her work basket in hand, doing


the Saturday's mending.. There trooped the-
boys and girls ; and there they heard some of
the nicest stories that you can imagine. Some-
times they fitted pretty closely, and made a
good many blushes, and laughs, and nudging
of elbows, as Louise said:
The biscuits were sure to appear in some
form on Saturday night."
In fact, a great many things that had hap-
-pened during the week came in. It was a
nice time, though; and to prove it to you, I
have written out all the stories that have
been told in that little west room for many a
day, and here they all are.. Read for your-

- V

24 1--

i N-


"Oh my said Billy, "last April fool,
We had the jolliest kind of fun I
We watched, when the boys came out from
They always come, you know, with a run -
Well, we strung a line, from door to gate,
'Twas made of wire, they couldn't see it,
And every one of 'em plumped, as straight,
Right into the ditch, if you'll believe it I

" Oh poh !" said Jimmie,-" that wasn't much,
We found some men, at work on a shed;
They had pails, with doughnuts, and pie, and
We hid them all and then Tommy said:
'Let's eat the doughnuts, and pie, and cheese,'
And we did, from every pail, you know;
Then we spread their bread with snuff for a
And then we thought it was time to go."

"Oh hum I" said Dickie, what of it all ?
I don't know about such kinds of fools,
The boys got mad, and hurt by their fall;
The men had to work away with their tools,


With nothing to eat, but nasty snuff I
I tell you, I like my kind of fun,
It isn't mean and it isn't rough.
And you feel real good when the thing is

" Oh dear I" said Dickie, it was so nice i
I never had such fun in my life! "-
" What was it?" asked the boys in a trice.
"Why you know, old father Moore, and his
wife ?
They hadn't a thing in the house to eat!"
And us boys got our mothers to help,-
And we took the biggest kind of a treat,
And piled it up, on the cellar shelf.

"Oh my!" said Dickie, "it was such fun!
I laughed till both of my sides were sore;
Old father Moore got out his gun,
And came stumbling down, and then -
we four
Scud under cellar stairs;-and there
Stood the bread, and milk, and apples and
I tell you, old father Moore was beat "


THEY went out to play in the lovely garden.
Alice brought her dollie, and said:
"Now, Daisy, play was a sewing girl, and
you had hired me to make a dress for Ange-
lina. Play it was to be pink silk, with an
overskirt of white lace, looped up with lovely
yellow ribbon.".
Oh, no," said Daisy," I don't want to play
that. Let's play, You was a little girl out in
the woods, and I was a great big bear, arfd I
came behind you, and growled awful, just like
this." Then she growled. "Play the kisses
I give you were great big bites, and I ate you
all up."
Oh, dear! How Alice did want to make
that new dress for Angelina; it was lovely
pink muslin, and she could play it was silk,
and when the girls came in the afternoon, to
play with her, Angelina would be all dressed
But Daisy was the baby, and mamma had
said, Take good care of the baby, daughter,
and keep her happy, so she won't want to
come to me, for I am very busy this morn-


Alice thought a minute, then she said: -
"Well, Daisy, come on, and be a bear if
you want to I'm ready."
So Daisy climbed up behind her, with a
dreadful -growl, and there never was a sweeter
bear, or softer bites than she took from Alice's
fat, pink cheeks.


SEE here, dear," said mamma to Ellie,
stopping before the lovely tulip bed; Ellie
mustn't ever pick mamma's pretty flowers.
See all those pretty red flowers in there,
Ellie will not touch them."
No indeed," said Ellie, shaking her wise
little head, Ellie never will at all."
Just the very next afternoon, she went out
to make a bouquet for mamma; some dande-
lions,some sweet clovers,and then she stepped
into the very middle of the tulip bed. How
she did pick off the great yellow beauties!



~- ~O~i~,`

~-=i--~10 ''":


Showers of them, until not a yellow tulip was
left. Then she went, in glee, to her mother.
"Why, Ellie," mamma said, what dit I
tell you only yesterday? "
"Ellie. didn't pick a single red flower,
mamma, not a single one; these- are all yel-
"Oh, the dear little Goosie," said mamma;
" she thinks because I spoke of the red. flow-
ers, that I meant only those. Now all my
lovely yellow tulips are gone. Never mind,
my-darling did not disobey, or she thinks she
didn't, so her heart is always sweet."


THE afternoon sun was low; it peeped in
at the west window of the old school-house,
and saw Mamie, sitting before her desk, her
elbows resting: on it, and 4er head buried in
her hands, while the great tears-followed each
other out, between her fingers, and dropped
on the dusty desk. Beside her stood sister



Jennie, waiting for her, trying to comfort
her, looking so sorry for her; but Mamie
would not look up, would not speak, would
only send out those great hot tears.
All the rest of the scholars had "taken
their sun-bonnets, and their dinner baskets,
and their books, and gone. Mr. Matthews
was ready to go; but he stopped when he
saw the bowed head, and came over to her.
"What is the trouble with you, Mamie?"
he said, resting his hand on her' head. And,
by way of answer, Mamie cried harder than
"What is it, Jennie?" Mr. Matthews
I don't know, sir; but I think it is be-
cause she missed in geography. If she
didn't miss once this :term, papa was going
to get her a pony, and she is so sorry."
,"Why, she didn't miss," Mr. Matthews
said.- "Did she think she was wrong about
the isthmus ? It was all right. She said it
wrong at first, but she corrected herself in a
minute; she is marked perfect on the roll.
Look up,.little Mamie, you haven't lost the
pony yet, and I don't believe you will."


Still Mamie cried. She shook her head
violently when Mr. Matthews said it was all
right, and seemed to feel worse than ever.
Her teacher was very much puzzled.
"Can't you get her to tell you what it is ?"
he asked the older sister.
Then she tried again: "Come, Mamie, Mr.
Matthews says it is all right; let's go home."
"Go and tell mother about it," Mr. Mat-
thews said. "That will make it all right, I
am sure."
But it was an unlucky sentence. Mamie
laid her head flat down on the desk, and cried
as though her heart would break, sobbing
out something that neither teacher nor sister
understood. At last Jennie seemed to hear
what she said, for she drew back, and her
cheeks grew very red.
"What does she say?" asked Mr. Mat-
"She says she peeked, and mamma won't
love her any more."
Ah I the secret was out I Poor little Marmie,
in her eager rage after that pony, peeked"
to see what isthmus it was that she couldn't
remember.- You see how happy it made her.


Mr. Matthews sat down beside her, and tried
to comfort her; he told her that mother
would forgive her, since- she was so sorry,
and as for himself, he would give her another
chance. She might recite to-day's- lesson
again, to-morrow after school, and if it was
entirely perfect, the perfect mark should stay
down opposite her name. And still Mamie
cried, and when she could speak at all, she
sobbed out:
"That won't take away the peek.' "
Poor little girlie, learning so early that
being "sorry" doesn't take the "peeks" out
of our lives.


SHE'S through! She's through l" Mattie
said, clapping her hands. They were playing
croquet, and Mattie was Ella's partner. Ella
had been having a hard time trying to get
through the middle wicket.
-Now they all thought it was done; but



-Ella knew it wasn't. She knew the ball
bumped against the wire, and shied off a little
bit, just enough not to go through, and so lit-
tle that to those looking on, from the other
end, it seemed to have slipped right through.
Ella didn't say a word; she was so tired of
trying for that wicket! And she was the
youngest there, and they were going to beat
her anyway. Why'couldn't she let it go?
She stood leaning on her mallet and think-
ing about it, till it was almost her turn again,
then she said suddenly:
"Play for me a minute, Mattie," and ran
away out to the flower garden, under the big
old tree--it was her thinking place. She
went all over it again; you don't know how
hard she wanted to play she was through that
old wicket.
I sha'n't beat," she said to herself. But
I'm sick of that spot, and I want to'get away;
they all think I've been through."
It was strange that Ella should think, just
then, -of one who knew she had not .been
What, do you suppose the Lord Jesus looks
down on people when they are playing cro.


quet, and knows about the honest and dis-
honest ones? Just listen, and see what he
says about it:
"The eyes of the Lord are in every place,
beholding the evil, and the good."
"But I didn't intend to cheat," said Ella,
aloud. Nobody made any answer; she didn't
need one. She knew in her heart that that
was a very silly thing to'say. She sat still
there, with a sober face, looking about her
until, she heard herself loudly called then
she started up, and ran quickly out to the
croquet ground.
"Why, where have you been ? said Mattie;
"I have played for you twice, and it is your
turn again; I have put, you through the side
wicket, now you are for the two, down there."
"No, I'm not," Ella said, with a quick stroke
that sent her ball flying up .the hill. "I
haven'tbeen through the middle one yet; you
think I have, but I haven't." Then- they all
talked at once, and were very much bewil-
*dered.- How Ella did want to say, I forgot
that I hadn't been through," if that could only
be truth, but it wasn't. So she came out
boldly, in answer to, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"n?'/~~~~~i Y~VNKi$

< .. ..


Because I was so tired of this old wicket,
when you thought it went through here, I
wanted to let it go; but I won't, 'cause it
isn't honest."
They all stood still a minute-after that;
then Horace, the boy whfo was ahead, said:
Let's all go back and start fair; my ball
didn't hit this stake, I don't believe; it came
awful near it, but I'm not sure that it hit."


THEY were on their way home from pas-
ture. They had spent the long, bright day
together in a pleasant field, where all they had
had to do was to chew sweet grass, and love-
ly smelling clover, and take a drink now and
then, from the brook which rippled along
through the meadow; and-when they were
tired, lie down and take nice naps, under
the shade of spreading trees. Shouldn't you
have thought they might have been happy


Yet, just look at their faces. You can imag-
ine what they were 'saying, as well as if you
had- heard' them.
"Well? dld Whitie said, "another day is
gotten along with; eating, and drinking, and
sleeping, and tramping home, and being
milked, and all the milk given to other peo-
ple; so it goes-no change of any sort; I'm
just as sick of it as I can be."

I know it," Brindle said; there isn't an
other living creature has such a stupid life as
we. There's the worms, they change into but-

I =7-


terflies-what can be gayer than their life?
But for us, it is nothing' but the same tread-
mill thing--always at work for other people,
making butter and cheese, and' I don't know
how many more things, that we never get a
taste of, and, for the matter of that, wouldn't
like if we did. If we ever had a new walk to
take now and then, it would be better than
nothing; but no, we have to go the same
old road every morning, and come home the
same road every night. Any kind of a
change would be better than this, I don't
care what it was."
Addie stood looking at them; she couldn't
hear what they were saying, but they looked
so sober, and stood around in such a dismal
way, that she-felt rather sorry for them, and
thought they must be having a gloomy time.
Papa," she said, calling to her father,
whom she saw coming down the hill, these
cows look awfully discouraged; what do you
suppose can be the matter with them ?"
"Oh, they have been grumbling, I dare say;
either finding fault with themselves, or with
some of the other cows. They look as though
there might have been a quarrel."


I don't believe they like being cows, and
going to pasture every day, and giving milk
-they look just as though they didn't."
No, we don't," said the cows to them-
selves; we don't like it a bit."
Oh, well!" said papa, as for that, one
of these days, if they wait patiently, we will
give them something new-we'll fatten them
up all nicely, and sell them to the butcher, and
he will kill them, and get them ready for peo-
ple to eat up. Perhaps they will like that."


THEY were coming through the woods,
Charlie and little Joe; not much woods, and
not very dark, but these two people had never
been out so late before, and it seemed very
dark and wild to them. They had been hav-
ing such a splendid time, and it got dark be-
fore they thought of such a thing, and they
wandered a good deal further ,than they
meant to. The next thing to do was to
hurry home as fast as they could.


Almost down the hill, in another five min-
utes they would be in Deacon Jones' pasture,
then the way was safe and clear. But what
is that, great black thing under the trees
ahead? Both boys see it, and both are just
as frightened as they can be.
What is it ? Oh, Charlie, what is it ?"
whispers little Joe. "See! it is moving.
Oh, Charlie, Charlie, is it a bear ?"
"I'm afraid it is," Charlie said, and his
teeth chattered, and. his face grew very white.
What-were they going to do? This was
the only road home. They couldn't turn
around and go back to that dreadful woods;
besides, if they did, the bear would follow
them. They must pass it; there was noth-
ing else to do. Charlie thought very fast;
he was a little fellow, only six years old, but
he meant to take care of his brother if he
"Come around this side, little Joe," he said.
" Keep close to me, and I will put my arm
around you,-and don't speak, nor scream-
that is a dear boy and we will go as far
away from him as we can, and creep along so
softly, that I don't think he will see us; then

-_ 77~?

I-7~ -2
I-s -


we will climb the fence, and run to Deacon
Jones' house, as fast as we can."
I'm afraid I can't help crying out loud,"
said little Joe, sobbing as he spoke.
Oh yes you, can; you are mother's brave
little man,-and she is waiting for-us, and we
must get home to her, you know. Brother
will take care of you, and in a few minutes
mother will put her arms tight around us."
On they went, little Joe being as still, and
as'brave as a soldier; Charlie, with his arm
tight around him holding him as close, and
as far away from that dreadful bear as he
could; and so they came softly up.
What do you think! Little Joe had his
eyes hid, so he would not be too much afraid,
and scream; so he didn't know what to make
of it, when Charlie suddenly stopped, then
began to laugh, and clap his hands, and kiss
little Joe's cheek.
"We're safe!" he shouted. "We're safe!
Look up, little Joe; it isn't a bear, it is good
dog Shag come to see us home."
Then what laughing and shouting there
was, and how nice it was'to hear little Joe,
when he told the story at home, finish with:


I was awful scared, but Charlie took care
of me; he wouldn't let anything-hurt me."
Then mamma patted Charlie's head, and
"Mother's brave boy; she can trust her
baby with him."


OH, poor mamma! Here she sits crying I
Why, what is the matter? Is Tommy lost?
Has he been drowned, or shot? Have they
buried him in the little green cemetery on
the hillside?
Oh, no indeed! Tommy at this minute is
up stairs in his bed, sleeping quietly. Then
what is the matter with mamma?. Doesn't
she know.where to get anything for Tommy's
breakfast ?- Is the flour barrel empty? Is
there no wood to make a fire in the morn-
ing, and cook his potatoes? Doesn't she
know how to get him a pair of shoes to keep
his toes from the ground?


Oh, bless your dear hearts! Tommy's
papa owns the great flouring mill, with its
wheels, and bands, and its roaring, tumbling
waters; and he owns the great store in town,
and the splendid row of houses that are just
around the corner from the store; and really,
I hardly know what he does own he has
hard work keeping track of it himself. But,
so far as mamma -can see, there- is no reason
why Tommy could not have a thousand bar-
rels of flour, and ten thousand pairs of boots
to-morrow morning if he wanted them. And
yet, oh, poor mamma! She sits there and
cries, and it is all about Tommy. She must
be afraid he's sick.
Why, just go up and look at .him as' he
sleeps in his small white bed. He has tossed
off the clothes, and his round arms are out
and his cheeks are flushed with health, and
his. arms look as strong and stout; .nobody
ever looked or felt better than Tommy, and
yet mamma cries. How strange it is!
There must be a reason; happy mothers
don't cry about their dear little boys, when
they are safe in bed, and sweetly sleeping.
I know the reason. If you will-bend your


heads so I can whisper it, I will tell you.
This afternoon when they were playing out
under her window, Tommy and his three
friends from across the street, and around

the corner, this mother heard her Tommy
say a naughty word-not a very bad word,
as some people think, but something so bad
that his mother would rather have seen him
struck, than to have heard him say it.


It hurt her so, she could not get over it.
She sat and-thought what she ought to do-
how she could teach Tommy what a wicked
thing it was to use such words; and when
at last she called him in, and had a talk with
him, she got a hurt that was almost worse
than the other. What do you think Tommy
said? He said:
Ho, mother That isn't anything I All
the boys say that! "
Oh Tommy, Tommy; if you could have
seen into your mother's heart, and known
hovw that made her feel!
To think that her Tommy knew no more
than that! Cared no more for right and
wrong than that/ Let me tell you, little boys,
that mothers' tears are very solemn things.
Tommy may live to be very sorry that he
made them come to his mother's eyes. And
I don't know anything that will bring tears
to mother's eyes much sooner than coarse,
wicked words, spoken by her boys.


CRASH went something in Mrs. Avery's
great kitchen. Of all the dreadful things in
the world, it was Mrs. Avery's big platter;
the one that -always held the turkeys and
ducks. How did it get broken? Why, you
see Anna slipped away from the piano, where *
she was practising, to the kitchen for a drink
of water; after she had got that, she thought
she would have an apple; then she werit hunt-
ing about the table for a certain knife that
she chose to have to peel it with; the knife
"was under a pile of plates; there were plenty
of other knives, indeed, there were two fruit
knives in the fruit basket, but nothing would
suit just then, but the one under the plates.
Anna tugged at it, and pushed the plates a
little nearer the edge.
"Take care, Miss Anna," Sarah-said; Sarah
was the little girl who wiped dishes and
swept, and pumped water, and did everything.
that she was told to do.
"Oh, don't you be frightened," said Anna;
" I guess I have been where dishes were,
before now."


Then she gave a little harder push, and
then came the crash; the plates had hit
against a covered dish, and the covered dish
had shoved a little and hit against a tumbler,
and the tumbler had rolled over and hit
against the big platter, and "down the big
platter went! Break? Yes, indeed it did,
* in four pieces. Dear me! How sorry and
frightened Sarah was! She just stood still
and looked at it.
My sakes ," said Anna, though what that
had to do with it, I am sure I don't know.
Mrs. Avery came out from the pantry,
where she was making a plum pudding, and
a fruit cake.
What is the matter now ?" she said;
"What crash was that, I heard a minute ago'?
My patience! I wonder if you have broken,
the large platter?"
Nobody spoke; what was the use of speak-
ing? Anybody. with eyes could see that
somebody had broken" the big platter into four
pieces. The question was: who did it? Sarah
did not feel that it was her place to tell. But
greatly to her surprise, Apna did not seem to
think it was her place. She went on peeling


her apple, though her cheeks were pretty red;
but she said riot a single word.
"Anna," said Mrs. Avery at last, "what are
you doing here? Why are you not -at your
practising? Sarah, really, I think I have had
as many things broken as I can afford to lose.
It isn't a week- since you broke the glass
pitcher, and now this elegant platter that
matched the dinner set I I can't keep you any
longer; you may finish the work as soon as
you can,and then go out and' try to find a
place-; you may stay here, of course, until one
is found, but be as quick as you can."
Poor Sarah! She did't say a word; what
was the use ? If Anna would keep still, when
she ought to spead, surely, if she. spoke, she
would say what was not true, just as she was
saying it-by her silence. There was nothing
for Sarah, but to hunt up another home, if
she could. So an hour after that,'she tied her
little clothes in a bundle, and went slowly
down the hill towards the village; and Anna
strummed away on the piano I 'How do you
suppose she felt 1


CHARLIE STONE harnessed his team, and
started for the city, twenty miles away. Lulie
and Karl Baker were his horses. Karl was
older than the others, and thought at first that
he was much too old to play horse; but the
fun of a race was too much for him: so he
came up, and was harnessed.
"Now get app!" said Charlie; and away
they went. The barn-door was to be the city,
twenty miles away; and they were to get a
load of coal, and run back in time to be har-
nessed to the carriage, and go to-the post-
office,-at least, that was their orders.
"Take hold of my hand, Karl," said Lulie;
" I can't run as fast as you." So Karl took
hold of her hand; but this gave him an idea:
he did like to get ahead,--in fact, there was
nothing he liked quite so well in the world.
What fun it would be to keep hold of Lulie's
hand, and yet get ahead of her I There was
a chance to be two feet ahead, and show that
he was dragging the other horse after him; so
he put in his best speed.
Oh, dear me!" squealed Lulie; "don't


pull me so I Oh, dear! I can't go so fast.
Let go! I am all out of breath."
"Can't stop for idlers!" screamed Karl,
glancing around behind him to see if she was
being dragged along all right;-" this team
must reach the city in twenty-five minutes.'
Come on !"
And he went on, in spite of Lulie's cries
that he pulled too hard. and was hurting her.
He wasn't a cruel boy; he was just heedless,
and liked to get ahead. He kept looking back
to see if it was safe to keep pulling; and just
then they reached the barn-door. He turned
suddenly; and bump came his nose right
against the door!
Oh, my! how it felt! He rubbed his nose,
and danced up and down on one foot, and
said: Oh, jingo and all the words he
could think of that didn't sound too badly.
The skin was off his nose, and a splinter was
in it. Lulie said:-
Dear me! I'm just as sorry," and offered
her bit of handkerchief to do it up:
It seemed so funny to try to do up a nose,
that Karl couldn't help laughing.
"That comes of trying to get ahead too

r 4)


fast," Charlie said. I say, Karl, doesn't it
make you think of that day when you tried
so hard to get ahead in the spelling-class, and
spelled sulphur p-h-u-l-sul-phir?'"
Then both boys sat down, on the grass, and
laughed; but Karl held his nose, and said
"Oh, dear!" at the end of the laugh, and
added: "The next time I go fast, I'll go


SPEAK for it said Harvey; and he held
up his fingers, as if there was something
in them, and waited for his dog to take a
seat on his hind-feet, and bark a request for
it; but the dog did no such thing; instead,
he poked his nose between the rails of the
fence, and-looked surly.
"' Why, what a dog !" said Harry Wheeler,
who was on a visit to Harvey, and waiting to
see the dog perform. Now, my Trusty; the
minute I bring him anything, and hold it up


so, will speak just as plain. Everybody
knows what he says."
This dog used to do so," Harvey said, look--
ing crossly at him. I'm sure I don't know
what's got into him; he doesn't mind at all.
He ought to be whipped."
Just then, Miss Lily Barr came out to see
the fun. She was Harvey's sister; she was
in time to hear what was said.
"I know just what's got into him, Harvey
Barr," she said; and, if I were a dog, I
would do exactly so. He doesn't believe a
word you say. You cheat him all the time.
You snap your fingers, and say, 'Speak for
it!" and you haven't got a thing for him; and
he knows it. What should he speak for? If
I had a dog, I wouldn't cheat him."
Pshaw! said Harvey. "As if a dog knew
when he was cheated."
Why, of course he does If he don't, why
wouldn't he mind, when you spoke to him?
He used to ask so nicely for things; but
now, he knows you are just doing it to fool
"Well, he ought to mind, whether I have
anything or not," Harvey said. "A dog ought


to mind. Anybody who wouldn't mind, isn't
worth a cent. Papa makes us mind, whether
he has anything for us or not."
"Oh, Harvey! As if papa ever cheated us!
You never heard him say: 'Come here, and
I'll give you something,' and then not do it,
after a!l."
"I don't care,-if he did say so, we would
have to mind him.
"But he won't say so, ever,-because it
isn't right; and I don't think it is right to
treat a dog so: it just ruins him,--mamma
said so. Mamma said Aunt Hattie was bring-
ing up her Tommy just as you bring up your
dog. She tells him to be a good boy, and she
will bring him something; but she always
forgets it; and Tommy knows she will. He
says 'Oh, poh !- she wont.' I suppose that
is exactly what your dog is saying to himself
Boys are boys, and dogs are dogs," said
Harvey; but he jumped down from the fence,
and went away. He had made up his mind
that there was no use in trying to have the
dog "speak." Whether it was bad bringing-up
or not, he wouldn't mind.


"WELL, sir," said Mr. Sanderson, looking
dp from -his book, what do you want with
me ?"
"I want to get some work to do, very much
indeed," was the quick answer of our boy,
whose name was Willie Thompson.
"Some work; what makes you think I
have any work?"
I read your advertisement in the paper."
"So you read the paper, do you? Well, do
you answer the description that I gave ?"
I don't know, sir; I thought, perhaps, you
would be willing to try me, and see."
"Well, now, that's fair; what can you do?"
Willie hesitated a minute, there were a
good-many things he thought he could do;
he didn't see how he was to get them all into
a short answer; at last he said:
I can do what I am told."
"Can you, indeed! Now, if you are en-
tirely sure of that, you are a very unusual
"Well, I mean," said Willie, his cheeks get-
ting red, "that I can try to do it; I suppose


a gentleman would not give me things to do,
that he knew I couldn't do."
"But suppose I should hire you, and the

Ii i-

next morning I should tell you L go -to my
store, and roll down the hill at the back door,
twenty-five times; what then ?"
"Why," said Willie-and he could not help


laughing -"I am sure I could do that, and I
would go at it as fast as I could."
But what would you think of me for giv-
ing you such work as that ? "
"Why, I might think you a very silly man,
but that wouldn't hinder my doing the work,
you know, as fast as possible."
"Just so; we agree in that. Well, suppose
I should tell you to go to the store next door
to mine, and watch your chance, and seize the
nicest looking codfish you saw, and run back
with it, and put it on my counter; what
then ?"
That I couldn't do, sir," Willie said, and
his cheeks.were a fine red, and his eyes shone.
"Why not? You told me you could do
what you were told to do."
"So-I can, but I had my orders about that,
a good while ago; thou shalt riot steal,' is
one of my orders; I have to follow that."
"Ah, ha, then! my orders come next to
those, do they ? "
Yes, sir, always."
Willie's voice was as firm as before, but he
began to think that Mr. Sanderson must be a
wicked man, and it would be just as well not



to work for him; but just at this point the
gentleman held out his hand:
"We'll shake hands on that, my boy," he
said, "and we'll try each other for two weeks,
if you say so; I want a boy who puts God's
orders first, and mine next."


OH! little maiden, sitting on a log,
What are you thinking? Wishing you were
a frog?
Which sounds the sweetest of all the music
Of all those singing creatures, which best
suits your ear?

Is-it that sweet tenor frog, sitting by the rush ?
Or the bright wood roin robin, hiding in the
bush ?
It couldn't be the June bug, that strikes you
with a thug!
Nor can it be the bull-frog, who answers you
-"ker-chug I"


Perhaps it is the beauty of that bright butter-
Or else the shining needle, that just now flut-
tered by;
Perhaps it is a fairy, you've found down in
the dell!
Oh, little maid, what is it ? Won't you speak
and-tell ?

Then the maiden answered; the maid with
wavy hair, -
"There's music all around me,-and beauty
everywhere /


I love that birdie's warble; I love the laugh-
ing brook,-
I love to be, by this old tree, hid in a shady

And I said: "Little maiden, you've learned
to read right well,
The book that God has opened, within this
shady dell,
You've preached a precious sermon, its
truth I'll not forget!"
And I thank the Lord, my master, that I that
maiden met.


-v- '"st'. '


THEY had never been in such a nice house
before, those three boys. They had often
looked at grand houses from the outside, and
wondered how they looked behind those
closed doors, and never expected to know;
but they had a new Sunday-school teacher,
and don't you think she had asked them to
come and see her! They were wonderfully
astonished, and had thought about it all the
When the night came for them to go, they
dressed in their best, and started, feeling very
much scared, not being able to think what
they should do with their feet and hands.
It was dreadful, but the teacher was not at
home! It wasn't her fault; a message from
a very sick friend, called for her presence, and
the last thing she said as she went out of the
door was:
Now, mother, be sure you make my boys
feel at home."
Dear me 1" said the old lady; "as if I



knew what to do with them!" and she,was
as much in a flutter, as the boys were.
She came very near letting them go out
again, into the night, and the darkness, after
that glimpse into paradise, wishing that they
had not come, and promising each other that
they would never be caught there again.
She saw the look in their faces, and she hur-
ried to say:
Boys, do you like pictures of old people,
who lived a long time ago? If ydu do, come
in here, and I will show you a picture of my
grandfather; he was a soldier in the revolu-
tionary war." And she actually opened the
door that led into the grand parlor! -
What a splendid old gentleman he was, in
his powdered wig, and silver knee buckles!
They were so amazed at the sight of him that
they couldn't help asking a question or two,
and his grand-daughter loved to talk about
him, so what did they do, but all sit down on
the elegant sofa, and easy chairs, and listen to
a long story of those wonderful days; a story
that sounded just like fairy land.
I tell you, she's just grand/"' one of them


said, with a nod of his head, as he went down
the steps an hour afterwards.
"Ain't she though !" said the others, They
meant the old lady, and they all knew that
they would accept her invitation, and come
again just as soon as they could.


HE tramped in, the back way, just at noon,
with his satchel of books on his arm; no
school that afternoon, he was going to help
father." He felt in a great hurry to begin, or
he thought he did.
The wood basket stood by the door, and he
might have filled it with kindling wood, that
would have been a help, but he never thought
of it;- the hoe was leaning against the door,-
he might have put it away, but he didn't; his
father's hat had blown out of the window,-
he might have picked it up and brought it in,
but he passed right by it, and looked around
for something to do.
There was no one in the kitchen; but a nice


roast of beef was lying in a platter, all ready
for the table. Josie's mother had got as far
as that with it, when she heard the baby cry,
and she sat it down, and ran to her.
"Ah! said Josie, "here is just the thing.
I mean to cut the meat for father; he-doesn't
like to cut meat, I've heard him say so. I'll
cut it all up in nice slices, and then he
won't have anything to do but put it on the
Now nearly ever since he was born, as often
at least as once a day, Josie had heard this
"Josie, Josie! Don't touch the carving
It was very strange that he couldn't remem-
ber it, just then. He flung satchel and hat
aside, and climbed up to the table, carving
knife in hand. The last thing he had done
with those hands was to make spit-balls to
throw at Tommy Jones! Never mind! Now
they were going to carve! How he did dive
into that nice piece of meat! Mother in the
bedroom, trying to coax baby to take a longer
nap, would have groaned instead of sung, if
she could have seen him I


"Ough! Ough! Oughl-" roared Josie.
* Oh, mother, mother! Come quick !"
And mother heard him; so did baby, and
opened her eyes wide, and mother ran with
baby in her arms, to see to Josie. He needed
seeing to, a regular little river of blood flow-
ing into that platter, from Josie's cut hand,
and how he was roaring I
Oh, dear me! Such a time as that family
had! The baby cried, and Josie cried, and
mother felt like crying. I don't know what
she would have done if father had not come
just then to help.
It was a long time before they sat down to
dinner, and when they did, the nice baked
potatoes were as watery as apples, and the
pudding was burnt to.a crisp, and as for the
meat, they had none at all, for who wants to
eat meat that has floated around in a platter
of blood?
They threw the most of it away, and didn't
feel like touching the rest, or ever seeing it
on the table. And all this, because Josie had
come home determined to be father's helper
Now do you believe that was the true reason?
I don't. Let me whisper to you: I think ii


was because he was* determined to do the
things that he couldn't do, and to let alone
those things that he could have done as well
as not. Do you know any such helpers as


THE school bells were ringing, that snowy
-morning, when in her scarlet cloak, with its
pretty hood drawn over her head, Louise
started for school. Mother came to the door
to see her off; she had to go alone, for the
twelve year old sister, who took care of her,
was sick with a cold. Mother didn't quite
like to have Louise on the street alone. She
called after her:
Remember, my dear, and do not cross the
street; mother doesn't like you to cross
I'll 'member," said Louise; and she flut-
tered along, like a little red robin. Around
the corner, down Mill Street, and at the corner
of Tracy Street, she stopped: no path at all


Piles and piles of freshly fallen snow, and no
scraper along yet.
"Oh, dear! said Louise, what shall I do?
I can't go on through all that snow; it looks
as if it would most reach up to my head!
And I can't wait for the scraper; that will
make me late."
Hello, Robin Red Breast !" called Morris
Brooks to her from the other side of the
street. Come across, my chicken; the
scraper has been on this side; it crossed the
street right here, and It will come down on
that side."
Then I'll wait for it," said Louise.
"Wait for it! What the mischief would
you do that for, on this cold morning? It
has gone up as far as Hersey Street; it will
be as much as half an hour; why shouldn't
you come over here?"
"'Cause my mamma told me not to go
across the street; and so you see I can't go;
I don't know what to do; course I can't wait
here half an hour, it will make me late, and
it's cold besides."
What a little goosie I" said Morris;
"your mother meant that you were not to


cross, unless it was necessary, of course;
there is no danger now,, there isn't a sleigh to
be seen; come along, I'll watch you."
My mother didn't say, not to cross unless
it was necessary, she said remember do not
cross the street,' and I ain't going to, not if
you call me twenty goosies."
"Oh, what a dunce!" said Morris. What
are you going to do, I should like to know?
Stand there and. freeze? I suppose youi
mother will like that 1"
Louise didn't answer; she was thinking;
the end of it was, that she turned around, and
sped back over the road that she had come,
as fast as her swift little feet would take her,
followed by Morris' loud laugh; he thought
her the greatest simpleton he had ever heard
It was a red little face that poked itself
into the door a little while afterwards, and a
breathless voice said;
Mamma, may I cross the street at the cor-
ner of Tracy? It is all snow on this side,
the scraper hasn't been there, and there is a
big wide path on the other side, and I'll be
very careful, and look each way.


"Why, yes," said mother, with an aston-
ished little laugh; "of course you may, dear,
if it is necessary; I am sorry you had such a
long run back." Almost before the words
were spoken, Louise was off; she expected
every minute to hear that last bell."
"What a little goosie!" said the twelve
year old sister, as she came to the window to
watch the little sister, "to think of her run-
ning away back home to ask that, when there
was nothing else to do, but cross !"
"I don't know about that, Mary," said
mother; "Louise isn't old enough to be ex-
pected to use her judgment much, about such
things, but she is old enough to obey, and
you see she does it, with her whole heart. I
never felt prouder of her than I do this min-


HE was a great boy for bargains; Sharpie,"
the boys at school called him, for short," be-
cause he was always trying to make some-
thing. His real name was Allen Wilson;
but boys like him are very apt to have nick-
names. Even his sister Kate had to come
in for her share of bargaining; she climbed,
one day, into the old apple-tree; now it is
sometimes easier to climb into a thing than it
is to climb out of. it. Kate couldn't get down
from that apple tree; she hopped along like
a squirrel from one side of the limb to the
other, and tried to make up her mind to climb
down; but she couldn't. At last, she saw
Allen, and called to him; of course he came
at once, and helped her down. Well, he
started, but the temptation to make a bargain
came over him, before he got there.
If I help you down," he said, "will you,
give me your ball ?"
What, my new one that Uncle Louis gave
me? Oh, dear Yes, I will; I'm afraid I
shall fall, if you don't hurry."
No, you won't. But you can't come down


unless you will give me your wheel-barrow."
My new wheel-barrow, that is on purpose
for my flower garden ? Why, Allen Wilson,
you know I can't give you that!"
"All right, then; you can stay up in the
tree awhile.
Oh, what a naughty, wicked boy I Well,
I'll give it to you; only do please hurry,
Allen, for I tremble all over."
"But, there's one thing more; I want you
to promise not to tell mother that I missed
my class to-day."
"What will I do if she asks me?"
"You can say you don't know."
"But I do know."
"Oh, you little goosie! You know how to
get around it, well enough; do you want to
come down from there or not?"
"No," said Kate; "not bad enough to tell
a story. If you won't take me down till I
promise to tell what isn't true, I'll have to
stay here, and fall, maybe; then you'll be
"You're a real dunce Who wants you to
tell a story! As if you hadn't sense enough
to answer a question, without telling all you


know. I'll go and leave you, as sure as my
name is Allen, if you don't promise."
Boys who try to drive sharp bargains, are
very often too sharp for their own good; I'll
save Kate the trouble of telling, by doing it
myself." It was Uncle Louis who said this,
as he appeared -from behind the barn, and
lifted Kate down from the tree.
I'll leave you to imagine how Allen felt


THIS was the way she said it; "Now I lay
me, Oh, mamma! may I have both my
dollies in bed tonight ?"
Hush! my darling; you are saying your
"Down to sleep, I pray-mamma! oh,
mamma! there flewed a robin right by the-
window,, just as red! and a worm in his
My darling child! if your eyes had been
closed, as mamma taught you, when you say


your pi iyers, you wouldn't have seen the
robin; Lo on, dear."
I pray the Lord my soul to take; mamma,
what arc souls made of; are they made out
of thistles gone to seed, and do they blow
away, away up in the sky, like thistles, when
we die? "
Daisy, dear! are you going to ,ay your
prayer, like a good little girl?
"Why, yes, mamma; but thinks come right
in my heart, and I can't help it, and I had my
eyes shut just as tight!
"If I should die-oh, mamma! Jimmy
Wilson's pussy died this afternoon; it had a
fit, or something, and died; if it only had a
soul, it could go right straight up to heaven:
don't you think it can possibly squeeze into a
little place there?"
"Now, Daisy, mamma isn't pleased with
you, because you talk while you are saying
your prayer; now I want you to close your
eyes, and say carefully, without speaking
again, about anything else, the rest of your
So Daisy drew a long sigh, and tried again;
If I should die, before I wake, I pray the


Lord my soul to take,-but I hope he won't,
mamma, don't you ? 'Cause I don't want to
go and leave you. Amen."
"I'm sure I don't know what to do with
her," mamma said, when Daisy's head was on
her pillow, and Daisy's self was fast asleep;
" I have tried very hard to make her feel that
she is speaking to Jesus, and that she must
not talk nor think about anything else; and
yet you see how much good it has done."
Do you think there is any use in having
such little bits of creatures say their prayers ? "
asked Miss Morris, mamma's friend, who was
visiting; "why wouldn't it be better to wait
until they are old enough to understand what
they are saying; and to keep their thoughts
from wandering everywhere else?"
"As to that," mamma said, sighing again,
" I don't know how long one would have to
wait; last Wednesday evening, in prayer-
meeting, while Deacon Miller was praying, I
roused up suddenly to the fact that he was
through, and I hadn't known for five minutes
what he was saying; and I found I had been
planning about the spring house-cleaning!
No, on the whole I would rather not have


Daisy wait till she can keep her thoughts from
wandering, for fear she might have to wait
too long."
"That is true," Miss Morris said, and her
cheeks looked very pink.


"WAIT a minute, papa, I want to speak to
you about -" Mrs. Ellis got so far in her
sentence, and then stopped with a glance
towards Emmeline, who sat curled up in a
corner of the piazza, with her crochet work.
"Daughter," she said, run and see if your
Aunt Fanny is nearly ready to go down town."
Emmeline gathered her worsteds up, very
slowly; she didn't want to go; she just ached
to hear what her mother was going to say to
her father, and she felt certain it was about
herself, else why should her mother send her
away? She couldn't be in a hurry to -have
Aunt Fanny ready, for she was not dressed
yet herself; it was just because she was not


to hear. Though she was so slow and dropped
her red ball once, and her patterns twice,
mamma waited patiently, not saying another
word, till she was fairly out of the room. Then
she could hear her voice again, and she felt
certain that. she heard her own name.
"Dear me!" she said, "how I wish I knew
what mamma was telling him! I've a great
mind to slip into this little closet and find
The little closet was a dark place opening
from the kitchen, where the garden tools were
kept, when they were not in daily use; it had
an outside door, and she could slip in and put
her ear to the key-hole of the kitched door,
and hear all that was said on the piazza; at
least she thought she could. And she was so
anxious to hear what was not intended for her
ears thht she crept in, and pulled the door to,
after her.. But it was all for nothing after
all; there was a great box pushed directly
against the kitchen door, and it was so heavy
that, try as hard as she could, it wouldn't
Oh, dear," she said; I might as well not
have come, after all."


Then she tried to get out; but she couldn't
even do that; the door she had pulled to, had
managed to fasten itself in some way that she
did not understand, and she was a prisoner I
Then she said, oh, dear! with some reason.
After thinking awhile what was best to be
done, she decided to keep still until she heard
Jonas come in from the barn, then she would
knock at the door, and he would contrive some
way to let her out: and he would think that
she had gone there after something, and been
shut in. But, for some strange reason, Jonas
did not come back from the barn; she waited,
and groaned, and sighed, and twisted around
in her close quarters, and began to wonder
what would become of her, if nobody ever came
that way to hear her, and at last she fell asleep
Meantime, how they were hunting for her-
up stairs and down; it seemed so very strange
that she should have disappeared all of a
sudden, and no trace of her be left. Mother,
and father, and Aunt Fanny, and her sister
Esther joined in the search; they called
" Emmeline !" from one room to another, but
Emmeline was quietly sleeping in the closet,
and heard nothing of the uproar.

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