Citation
Young folks' companion for rainy days and pleasant hours

Material Information

Title:
Young folks' companion for rainy days and pleasant hours
Creator:
Lothrop Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
Lothrop Publishing Company
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 25 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's poetry ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1898 ( lcsh )
Children's poetry -- 1898 ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1898
Genre:
Children's stories
Children's poetry
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Date of publication from t.p. verso.
General Note:
Contains prose and verse.
General Note:
Frontispiece printed in colors.
Statement of Responsibility:
fully illustrated.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026667385 ( ALEPH )
ALG5563 ( NOTIS )
08365452 ( OCLC )

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Full Text
a ‘Uy





PorArRop PUBLISHING (OMPANY
Boston.
















YOUNG FOLKS’ COMPANION

RAINY DAYS AND PLEASANT HOURS



FOL LITELOST RA, TED.

BOSTON
ILO MIBER CONEY IP EIR pe INiE rs (COMIN We



CopyRicHT, 189,
BY
LoTHror PUBLISHING COMPANY.





YOUNG FOLKS Comes NION

Re





HOW FRITZ CAME HOME.

One day Fritz went in town with papa. They were late, and had to
run for the train. Fritz stopped to bark at a squirrel in a show-window,
so papa came home without him.

Oh! didn’t I cry when I thought I’d never see my little Fritz again.
Arthur cried, too, but he doesn’t want me to tell anybody.

Well, papa comforted us, and told us that our dog wasn’t lost, for he
knew the way up to Uncle Win’s office, and he guessed when Uncle Win
came home that night, we’d see Fritz skipping along beside him.

But what do you think? When the new conductor came up from the
two o’clock train, he brought Fritz in his arms. Nobody ‘put him
aboard.’’ He went to the station alone, and found the right car himself.

Everybody laughed when Fritz walked in and took aseat. He sat there
until the brakeman called, ‘‘ Elmwood! Elmwood!’’ Then he looked out
to make sure the brakeman was right, and whisked off the train.

But he can’t ride that way any more. Next time he’ll have to pay
his fare like the other passengers. The conductor said so.

Emma Frances Jerome.





A HAPPY NEW YEAR!



WHAT BESSIE AND MAY DID.

Sar Bessie to May
While playing one day,
** Aren’t you glad Christmas.soon will be here?
Such a fine lot of things
Santa Claus always brings!
I wonder what we’ll have this year.’’

Then May said to Bess, .
“* Poor Santa, I guess,
- Won’t have time to make presents for all ;
So let’s you and I
Make some gifts, on the sly,
To leave where Santa can’t call.”’

Then Bessie and May
Sewed and sang day by day,
“« Ring sweetly, ring loud, Christmas bells {
For love and good-will
Are here with us still,
Ring sweetly, ring loud, Christmas bells! ’”’
Lilla Barnard,



: Se
i . a
Asa A
\y ri the noise.
A / ‘¢ Tg
as Ay oo Are \. asked Dolly.
me pd “Holl
AX, Ses ao Toller

‘Why, holler ‘day!’’ exclaimed Dolly.

A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

A HOLLOW DAY.

= 460 S Georgina med eight, and Dolly aged
four, stood” looking out of the upper half
of the sitting-room door, which was all
window, a sleighload of big boys went by.
They blew on tin horns, waved flags and
yelled like young Indians.

Dolly liked
It was January first.
that what it’s holler for?’’

what?’’ asked Georgina.

‘¢What’s holler? ’’

doesn’t go to the store because it’s a holler-day?’’
Georgina looked at her sister with an expression of great wisdom.

“0, my, Dolly, you’ve got it very much mistaken !

it’s rally
colseityt 7’

New Year is a hollow day.’’
said Dolly.

It isn’t holler,

‘¢T wish it wasn’t.’’

‘© Why do you wish it wasn’t?’ asked Georgina.

‘< Because,’’
holler the way the boys did.
‘*That’s so, we could,’’ said Georgina, half-regretfully.

only a hollow day.’’

‘* Well, then, what’s hollow is asked Dolly.

“Why, hollow is empty —not anything in it,’’ explained Georgina.
*“ I suppose that’s why we call New Year a hollow day.”’

‘‘Isn’t there anything in New Year?’’ asked Dolly anxiously.

“¢ Not much by the side of Christmas.
and. games, and rings, beside the tree.
under your plates is to put them where they won’t get dirty.’’

said Dolly, ‘I thought if it was a hollerday we could
I thought that was the reason they did.’’
“* But it’s

Then you have dolls, and books,

And all you can do with cards

‘*Don’t you know papa

1



A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

At that very minute Mrs. Pettitt was in the kitchen stuffing a turkey
for dinner, and when it was ready for the oven it was not hollow by any
means. After the oven door was shut, she went into the cellar with a big
basket — a hollow basket. Not many minutes later she came up with the
same basket. It was not hollow then. If you had looked in, you would
have seen apples, turnips, potatoes, a bowl of jelly, and a big piece of beef.
On top of these things Mrs. Pettitt laid a paper bag of cookies and crack-
ers and another of popped corn. Then she told. Mr. Pettitt that now they
were ready to take the basket and call on Mrs. Lee.

Mrs. Lee was the woman who washed for Mrs. Pettitt. She had five
little children, and she had to do a good many washings to take care of
them. The Lee family were black as black could be.

Mr. and Mrs. Pettitt, with
Georgina and Dolly, rode up to
Mrs. Lee’s while the turkey
was cooking. They all went in.

- The basket went in too, and
perhaps the Lees were gladder
to see that, than the four who
brought it. Though they were
glad to see the four, too.

Mrs. Pettitt was attracted
to one child more than to the
rest. . He was Clarence, and he
had the brightest eyes, the whit-
est teeth and the jolliest smile
you can imagine. Mrs. Pettitt
talked to him and his mother
was so pleased she asked him to
** dance for the lady.’’

The audience was highly pleased. Mr. Pettitt found five cents for the
dancer, and a penny for each of the other children. They all gave their
money to their mother to put in the bank. The bank was a rickety tin
elephant on the clock shelf, but it could doubtless hold all the riches the
Lees could save.



THE BASKET FOR MRS. LEF.



A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

**T’m dretful thankful,’’ said Mrs. Lee as the Pettitts were going.
**T was kind o’ blue before you come. The baby fell out the high cha’
three or fo’ days ago, an ’es ’ad a misery in ’is ’ed ever sense, an’ the
med’sin cos’ a good deal.”’

‘She said she was blue,’’ Dolly remarked, going home, ‘‘ and she’s
black.’

Mrs. Pettitt explained that Mrs. Lee meant she felt mournful, and told
the children they must look up some books and toys for the Lees, and she
would find a pair of better shoes for Clarence. '

There was no company at their New Year dinner
which was a fine one. Dolly was rather glad. She
thought -there would be more for her and she felt. very
hungry. But, do her best, a good deal of dinner was
‘left.

“‘It doesn’t feel like a very hollow day in my
stomach,’’ said Georgina. | ew
‘¢ Nor mine don’t,’’ said Dolly. Ze AT
Mrs. Pettitt did not understand this, but Mr. Pettits “ZZ,
did. He had heard the talk by the window in the morn-
ing. He told his wife the ‘‘holler’’ and ‘ hollow’
day ideas as soon as he could without letting the children hear him

That night when she put them to bed, Mrs. Pettitt said:

“¢ We have had a nice, quiet holiday. And before you go to sleep I
want to tell you what a holiday is. It isa day when people stop their
usual work, and rest, and enjoy themselves as they like best. Christmas,
Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Thanksgiving are holidays.”’

‘‘ Why, I thought it was hollow,’’ said Georgina, surprised. ‘‘ Any
way, they’re splendid, I wish they came every day. Don’t you, Dolly? ”’

But Dolly who always dropped asleep in a minute, if she were over-
tired, only snored gently, and Mrs. Pettitt and Georgina saw that she
could not now say what she thought or wished, and had even forgotten
her prayers.

“ say two prayers to-night, and ask God to please ’scuse me, don’t you fink
he will? *’ The Author of Lady Gay.



CLARENCE DANCES.



have something much more delightful.




































ZA DNR UW DAH LEER
eR
COD Re ia ae
Ww OF OF Pi Os Mi
ai} Ae"; lcd nN Mes MC

=: Sy of oS, aise =}

X 4



vr . ak
~ tin HUA ee me cvs qu cet OSUUUY UU ec LU Lg ee ce

WYirom Qavnam omnee—

SOME EARLY SPRING BIRDS.

THE BATTLE OF FLOWERS.

Aut Italy has her carnival, so of course Nice, a city of France, must

On the appointed day all the fine carriages in Nice appear on the Riviera,
the principal drive; and those who have no carriages appear on the side-

walk. The houses are all beautifully decorated.
horses, and even the little donkeys, are all covered with flowers.
everywhere carry flowers, and many have large baskets full.

The carriages and

o’clock a gun is fired from the castle, and then the battle begins.
Every one is against every one else, but their weapons are only flowers.

For two hours the flowers fly in every direction.
can throw at any one and hit where you like.

It is great sport, for you

It is the Battle of Flowers,

People
At two













































THE BATTLE OF FLOWERS.





A LITTLE WOMAN’S LETTER.

THE LITTLE WOMAN WHO WROTE THE LETTER.



Dear Berri : }

This is the first time I ever
wrote a letter, but mamma said
I might try. Igo to school all
the time. Last winter there
were twenty-two in our class.
Mamma promised me ten cents
every time I went to the foot.
I studied good and did not miss,
and sometimes I went above
others, and when the term was
over I had one dollar. Ma said
I might do as I pleased with
it, so I thought I would like to
take a book, as she did; so ma
sent to get ‘‘ Pansy,’’ ‘‘ Baby-
land,’’ and Lirrnr Men ann
Women. Ma thought ‘‘ Pansy ’’
was too old, and ‘‘ Babyland’’
was not old enough, but LirrLz
Men anp Women was just right,

like Silver Hair and the Three

Bears. This winter I am in a
higher room. We study arith-
metic, reading and spelling. I
like my new teacher. I have
eighty cents already, so I am
sure I can get my book another

year. Then ma says I may take the ‘‘Pansy.’’ I wonder if any other
little girls get their books as I do? What one do you take? Come and

see me next summer. Good-by.

Your Cousin Grace.



TO THE NEW YEAR.

OF all the things I would like, New Year, I wonder what you will bring:
A tiny watch, a music-box, or a ruby finger ring ;

A furnished house for my dearest dolls — there are ten of every size —

A kitchen where I can wash and scrub, make bread and tarts and pies.

A little canary to sing to me — I would love the darling so!

A pretty dog for company wherever I wish to go;

A pony — that would be best of all — with a cart that would carry five ;
I know just four little other girls whom I would take to drive.

Nell and Bess are my dearest friends, always loving and kind ;

Grace — what a pitiful thing to tell — poor little Grace is blind.

So bring me a pony, please, New Year, always safe to drive,

With a silky coat and a curly mane, and a cart that will carry five.
Mrs. M. F. Butts,

NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
HOW HE INTRODUCED HIMSELF.

7|T was one night when Nurse Powell was putting the
|} Wentworth children to bed, that a wonderful thing
happened.

The Wentworths had been out in the country to
spend Christmas. And it was so cold at Grandmam-
ma’s that Nurse said they all, from Robbie down,
must wear their all-wool flannels.

Lillie began to get ready for bed in her own room, but she felt so tired
she went in to Nurse Powell, the same as Winnie or Baby would.





NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

** You don’t ’pear to have a mite of strength,’’ said Nurse, drawing
her flannel vest up over her head. ;

*¢ What’s that ?’’ said Lillie.

Nurse gave the sleeves an extra pull, and when the woollen garment
fell away from Lillie’s warm little arms some tiny sparks went flying along
after it, with a soft crackling noise. They acted for all the world like
little starry fairies, who were trying to get a chance to rest their tiny
feet on Lillie’s arm.

“‘That’s Electricity,’’ said A
Nurse Powell, taking hold of the (3
other sleeve, and giving it a quick
little jerk.

‘* Hear it crackle?’’ she said,
as another spark flew out. ‘* Your
little vest is just alive with it.’’

‘‘Oh!’’ said Lillie, ‘is it the
same kind of Electricity they h .ve
in the cars ?’”’

‘*Yes,’? said Nurse Powell.
*« There isn’t but one kind of Elec-
tricity, but it can be put to all
sorts of use.’’

‘“You haven’t told it right,
Nurse Powell,’’ Robbie called from his room, “Wool is a conductor
through which the electric current can work.’’

‘‘Then I haven’t got any Electricity in me, have I, Robbie,’’ said
Lillie, ‘‘ the same as the street cars have when the sparks flash out down
underneath them ?’’’

Of course a little girl like Lillie could not understand, a grown-up science.

‘*I believe you have,’’ said Robbie, who was wide awake always on
the subject of Electricity. «And I believe everybody has, too. Elec-
tricity is a good deal nore than most folks think it is.’’

‘See here, now, Master Robbie,’’ spoke up Nurse Powell, << you go
off to sleep, and let Electricity alone for to-night. Time enough for you
to talk on such a subject as that when you can’t wake up the children. ’’



LILLIE,



, NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

“¢ You tell me, then,’’ whispered Lillie, for the baby commenced to
stir, and Nurse said ‘‘ Hush!’’ and began to sing softly :

‘* By-lo, swing low — swing low — low — low;
Baby is going to By-lo land, By-lo land, |

And of babies he’ll meet a gay little band,

All swinging low, low, low — By-lo.

*¢Run right into your room, like a good girl,’’ said Nurse, when she
had finished her lullaby song, ‘‘ and don’t talk any more to-night.

<< You mustn’t ask me about Electricity,’’ she said, as she tucked Lillie
into her snug little bed. <‘‘ Uncle Jim is the one to tell you about that. .
I know this much: like everything else in nature it is subject to law
—the law of attraction and repulsion.

‘<< Your brother Robbie declares that Electricity has just as much to dio
with the bubbles that we saw floating on the water last summer, when we
went down the harbor on the big steamer, as it does when put to the use
of running the street cars; but I don’t know about that.

‘¢ Some cold day you rub Tabby’s fur the wrong way, and see how the
sparks will fly.’’

Nurse bent over to kiss Lillie good-night.

«¢But you must remember, darling,’’ she added, giving her cheeks a
loving pat, ‘‘ that you have to study into the doings of Electricity, and
find out the way to put this power into use. That is what all the wires
you see overhead, on the street-car tracks, are doing. They are putting
Electricity to use. eae

‘¢ Listen, dearie,’’ said Nurse, giving her another good-night kiss —
she had staid so long, it seemed to her that she must say good-night over
again. ‘*I know a story about a giant, and I'll tell it to you the next
Children’s Evening. He’s introduced himself to-night.’’

<< Nurse,’’ said Robbie, ‘‘ come here.

<¢T can tell you the name of that giant,’’ he whispered, as Nurse went
into his room. ‘‘ It is Electricity.’’

‘¢Sh!’’ said Nurse, putting up her forefinger. ‘‘ You mustn’t spoil
the story by telling beforehand.”’

; Greta Bryar.



CHRISTMAS HOURS.

Prerty things, O what are these ?

Much more than twelve or twenty ,
Not a little man but sees

They’re Christmas toys a-plenty.
What is this, with cheeks of rose,

And eyes so blue and jolly?
Every little woman knows

It is a Christmas dolly.
Look again! a book-leaf bright, ©

Where words, lines, verses mingle;
It may be our dear ones might

Enjoy a Christmas jingle.

Lavinia 8. Goodwin.



MY PUSSY’S ADVENTURES. —I,

~Llam going to tell you a true
story about my Pussy.

I am sure every little man
and woman who will read this
story, loves dumb animals, and
is sorry that they cannot, like us,
talk about their troubles, and
tell us when they are hurt, or
need our help.

But my Pussy found a way
to make me understand, as you
will see.

When I went down to my cottage, at the seashore, last summer, I took
all my pets with me.



PUSSY MEETS WITH A MISHAP,





























Va
Tl



2?
ARMS.
‘I TOOK PUSSY UP IN MY



MY PUSSY’S ADVENTURES:

One of them is a pretty young Pia, Had she been an old kitty, I
do not believe she would have done what this foolish little cat did.

But you shall hear the story for yourselves.

One morning I was lying in the hammock, enjoying a nice swing. It
was very quiet all around me, while off on the water there was hardly
breeze enough to move the boats that were floating over the smooth bay.

There were no street noises to be heard, anywhere, but once in a
while I caught sight of a country cart, loaded with fruit and vegetables,
going along the road. :

Pretty soon one passed
the foot of our hill. Just
then I heard a quick, sharp
cry. Was some one hurt ?
I wondered.

I looked in the direction
from which the sound came,
and there was my Pussy,
holding up one of her paws,
and trying to shake off a live
clam. But the harder the
poor little thing tried to get
_ rid of the clam, the tighter the clam held on to het little soft velvety paw.

I got up and went to Pussy. She was standing beside a pail full of
freshly dug clams, which some boy who had been down on the beach,
clamming, had left there.

You poor little thing,’’ I said, taking her up in my arms. JI tried
to pull off the clam, but the harder I tried, the tighter he held on to
Pussy’s paw.

Pussy was nervous, and I dare say the clam felt nervous, too.

IT called the young man who was visiting at our cottage, but the clam
would not let go of Pussy’s paw for him, either. So we carried Pussy
into the house, when my guest took a hammer and pounded the clam’s
shell until he was glad to let Pussy stop crying and run away.

After that Pussy was careful never to stop and put her paw into a pail
full of live clams. OxeP mae:



FOUNDING! THE CLAM OFF PUSSY’S PAW.



HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TREE.

yi

I. — GOING COASTING.

OW you shall hear a story about a little girl who was
going to have a Christmas-tree, and forgot all about it.

Her name was Bergit, and she lived in a far-away
land up by the North Pole, where there is snow and
ice almost all the year round. In Bergit’s country,
Norway, the children do not hang up their stockings
as American children do, and they know nothing about Santa Claus.
But every home has its gayly decorated Christmas-tree, whose sparkling
sandles are lighted on Christmas Eve.

Early in the afternoon of a certain day before Christmas, Bergit and —
her little brother Alf thought they would go out coasting on Giant’s Hill.

sé] am afraid it may storm,’’ said Bergit’s mother. ‘* And Giant's
Hill is a long way.”’ ;

“Qh! but the coasting is so fine there, mother. And, besides, the
weather couldn’t possibly be very bad on Christmas Eve. Please let
us go, mother! ’’

«The wev-ver couldn’t be bad on Christmas Eve,”’ repeated Alf.
~ Please let us go, mother!’’ So, half against her judgment, their
mother said ‘* Yes,’’ and the children began to get ready.
Bergit put on her pretty silk-lined hood with the tassels at the back,
and her other warm out-door clothing, while her mother attended to Alf.
First the little fellow’s leggings must go on, and the funny stubby shoes
with a ruff of sheep’s wool at the top to keep out the snow ; then his over-
eoat and red worsted scarf, and his thick little mittens with red borders
around the wrists, and his jaunty cap bound with velvet. Then Alf’s
mother kissed him and told him to give a good-by kiss to his grandmother
and brother Peter before he went.

On their way to Giant’s Hill, Bergit and Alf stopped at a tiny
weather-stained log house, the windows of which were draped with crisp



4,

H



HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TREE.

white curtains and decked with blossoming plants. The shutters were fas-
tened back, and looked very gay with great red diamonds painted on a
background of gleaming white. This was the home of Bergit’s dearest

friend, Selma. ;
Bergit thought it would be grand fun if Selma could go coasting with

them.
So when Selma’s mother said ‘‘ Yes,’’ off they started with great glee.



bya

ON THE WAY TO GIANT’S HILL.

All was very gay and lively. Alf had a few mishaps, but the giris
cheered him on, and he tried bravely to laugh with them over his funny
tumbles. Every time he fell he seemed to land on that comical little flat
nose of his; and when they came to the big gate at the head of Long Lane,
which the girls could climb over easily, poor Alf had to creep under, and
his stout little body stuck fast midway. The girls pulled him through,
but his red scarf caught on the gate and was lost in the scramble. Brother
Peter found it some time afterward, a mere rag of a scarf then, and good

for nothing.
Adapted from the Norwegian, by Laura E. Poutsson,





























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































HOME.

"Ss

S
¢
=

NDUST

AN I













































HOW THE NEW YEAR CAME.

Erne, and Alfred wanted to ‘‘ watch the Old Year out and the New
Year in.’?’ Mamma said ‘‘ No”’ firmly, and then Auntie Bird pleaded.
Mamma finally said they might sit up till nine o’clock, and see how sleepy
they were then.

Auntie Bird was only a big bal herself; just the prettiest auntie, too.
Ethel’s great wish was to look like her, and Alfred admired her very
much.

Alfred ea: on wearing his hat ;. ‘so I can run out to see the New
Year the minute it comes.’

‘¢ Auntie Bird,’’ said Ethel, ‘‘ what makes New Year’s? Why wasn’t
it New Year’s last Sunday instead of to-morrow?’’

Really, children will ask hard questions. The girl-auntie didn’t know,
but mamma whispered in her ear to look in an old scrap-book.

Bird was really Bertha, but the name was given when she was a
baby because she cooed so sweetly, and it clung to the sweet-voiced girl
now. Bird read the page to herself, and then she told the children.

‘*You know,’’ she said, ‘‘the earth goes round. the sun, and that
takes a year. The moon goes round the earth, and that takes.a month.
The moon goes round the earth twelve times while the earth is going
round the sun once, so there are twelve months in the year.

‘*Many. hundred years ago some people called the Romans named these
months January, February, ete. Your birthday comes in February, you
know, Ethel.’’ :

‘* Mine isth first day of May,’’ lisped Alfred.

‘Yes, dear; auntie won’t forget. The Romans were heathen peo-
ple, and it was long before Christ was born. They called January after
one of their gods, whose name was Janus. His image had two faces, one
of an old man who looked backward, the other of a young man who looked
forward. So they chose the first day of January for New Year’s Day;
the Old Year looking back over the past, the bright New Year looking
toward the future.



HOW THE NEW YEAR CAME.

















































READING ABOUT THE PEOPLE CALLED ROMANS.

‘¢The book says that for many years after Christ was born the Chris-
tians wouldn’t take January for the first month because it was named for
a heathen god, but I suppose they decided at last that a name didn’t
matter much.”’

Alfred was blinking pretty hard by this time, and though Ethel
declared she wasn’t sleepy, she ‘‘ thought she could wait until morning
to see that young Janus.’’

As for the cat, she didn’t care what they called it, as long as SBE
could lie in Auntie Bird’s lap.

Helen A. Hawley.





Tue day after Christmas, while prowling about,
A Chimney EIf chanced to spy,

In the chink of a chimney, half in and half out,
A letter laid carefully.

He picked it up with a merry wink
And a nod to himself as he said,

‘©Ho! ho! little letter, you’re late, I think,
How came you left here unread? ”’

Then opening his wallet, he clapped it within,
And up through the chimney wide,
Far over the roofs with a leap and a spin,
To Santa Claus’ home he hied.
‘« A late little letter, Sir Santa,’’ quoth he,
*¢ [bring you by fast Chimney Post ;
Though Christmas is over, let’s read it and see
What one little child wanted most.’’

Then Santa Claus read, and his eyes grew wide,
While the smile on his face grew sweet,

And looking more closely, the Chimney Elf spied
A teat coursing down the small sheet.

‘* A letter of thanks! ’’ cried Santa in glee ; ~
‘¢ The first of its kind ever penned ;

Of all the little folks gladdened by me,
But this one a Thank you doth send.’’

Lowise Hosea.























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ROASTING NUTS.



‘THE WONDERFUL NORTH.

TuERE are two countries which have seemed almost beyond the reach of
‘civilized nations. One is.Africa, full of sunshine and brilliant flowers and
grand forests, though Mr. Stanley calls it the Dark Continent. The other
is Greenland —a name as perplexing; for, with the exception of a little at
the south, in midsummer there is not anything green in the entire land.

Long before America was discovered Europeans were sending expedi-
tions to Greenland, and ever since brave men have tried to learn more of
that land. A little less than two years ago a party of Americans, under
the leadership of Lieutenant Peary, started upon ‘this mission, and the
most remarkable thing about it was that his brave wife accompanied them.

On board a strong little steamer they made their way north as far as
possible, during the summer, and there were left with their stores.

First they built a very strong little cabin to shelter them through the
long months of night and intense cold; for the sun never shines at. all on
the north of Greenland except while it is summer here, with us. Then
they hired an Esquimau family to help them. They purchased a lot of
Esquimau dogs to draw their sledges over the ice. Through the dark
‘months, while the skies were still beautifully bright with northern lights,
they practiced walking on snow-shoes, driving the dogs in sledges, and
shot seals and walrus and any other game they could, all preparing for the
long journey over land which Lieutenant Peary and Mr. Astrup, with
fourteen dogs, began on the third of May. For fifty days they traveled
northward. Then the coast turned to the east and pretty soon to the
southeast. That was their discovery; and it was one of the most im-
portant discoveries which has yet been made about ‘the Wonderful North.

The geography maps have never had any lines to indicate where the
north of Greenland was, because no one knew where to make them; but
the next maps of Greenland will be very plain, and the next classes in
geography will know more than we did, all because Lieutenant Peary and
his brave wife dared the dangers and made this discovery.

Warren H. Frych-





LIEUTENANT PEARY AND HIS BRAVE WIFE.



’ NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
SHE BEGINS TO TELL ABOUT HIM,

Winnie Wentworta was a good while eating his supper, and Robbie
and Lillie were getting impatient.

Nurse Powell had told them that as soon as Winnie went to sleep, she
would come up in the children’s room, and begin her story about the
giant. It was Children’s Evening.

‘« Hurry, Winnie,”’ they kept saying ; ‘‘ hurry.”’

Baby Wentworth had been in bed an hour or more.

Finally Nurse sent them off, for she wanted Winnie to finish his supper
in peace. 2

It seemed a long time to wait, but Nurse was ready at last.

Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth always came in Children’s Evening, for they _
liked the stories Nurse Powell told as well as Robbie and Lillie did.
Before long they meant to bring Winnie, he was getting so big. : :

‘¢ The first I knew that Electricity was a giant,’’ said Nurse Powell,
‘¢ was when I was a child about the size of Lillie.

‘¢ My brother Roland — who was a boy as large again as Robbie —
and I were out in the garden picking currants.

‘<< All at once there came a heavy rumbling, and such a rattling you
never heard.

‘¢¢ Just hear that old giant,’ said Roland. ‘Hark!’ he whispered,
as I started to run into the house.

<< «J sha’n’t stay where there are giants,’ I told him.

‘©* Oh! you silly thing,’ he laughed. ‘Don’t you know what
that is?’

‘¢T told him that it sounded like a clap of thunder.

«««That’s what folks say it is,? and Roland shook his head, and
looked wise enough, you may believe. ‘ But it is the old giant Hlectricity.
See him wink!’ and he fairly shouted, he was so tickled when a sheet of
lightning flashed right in front of us.



NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

*¢T wondered why he did that, if he was a truly giant, and knew what
he was about. |

“«¢ « He’s clearing up the atmosphere,’ said Roland. ‘ The earth has
been sending up vapors, or else the wind has been rubbing against the
earth, and taken off a lot of particles that make the air heavy, and
the old giant is moving about. When he begins to stir things have to
stand around, I can tell you. We couldn’t take a long breath,’ Roland

Re Ue oF



WINNIE FINISHES HIS SUPPER IN PEACE.

declared, ‘if it wasn’t for the old giant’s clearing up the air every now
and then.’

‘¢ He said he had three kinds of winks. They were forked lightning,
and sheet lightning, and globular lightning.

‘* When I asked him about the thunder, he said the old giant was
opening and closing his eyes. Of course being a giant, he naturally had



GOING TO SCHOOL.

big eyes and big eyelids, and they made all that noise coming together ~

Mr. Wentworth had to laugh at this odd conceit of Roland’s.

‘< He must have been a very clever boy,’’ he observed. ‘* What ds
you think? ”’

The children looked up, and there stood Uncle Jim. Uncle Jim wax
an electrician, so he could not help enjoying Nurse Powell’s story

‘¢T think he must have been,’’ said Uncle Jim.

‘¢ Wasn’t the old giant winking, papa?’’ asked Lillie.

“What do you think, my boy?’’ asked Mr. Wentworth, turning te
Robbie.

“¢ Course I know thunder is the sound that goes with lightning,’’ said
‘ Robbie, ‘* but it is the old giant Electricity, just as Nurse Powell's
brother said.

‘¢T think his winking with his great big eyes so we can hear him is
splendid. I shall be glad when summer comes, so we can go out doors
and watch him. Won’t you, Lillie? ’’

‘¢Tf mamma and Nurse go too,’’ Lillie said.

*¢T’ll tell you something better than that,’’ spoke up Uncle Jim.
«¢ Run in to my shop some day pretty soon, and see what the old giant is
doing down there.

*¢ Let Winnie come too,’’ he urged. ‘‘ He wants to know what is
going on as well as the rest of you.”’ ie Greta Bryar.

GOING TO SCHOOL.

How we like in wind and snow
And wild winter weather

To hurry down the dazzling street
Flocking close together —

Tall Ned and little Fred —
What a joyous rally !

Plump Mate and slim Kate,
And black-eyed Sally.



WHO RAN?

Hark! tne bell goes kling! klang!
From the schoolhouse steeple ;
With a skip, hop and jump
Go the little people.
Tall Ned and little Fred —
What a joyous rally !
Plump Mate and slim Kate
And black-eyed Sally.
Mrs. M. F. Butis.

WHO RAN?

Ar just half-past eight you might have seen little Gracie waiting on
her front steps, with her lunch basket. And further down the street
Teddie swung on his gate and waited, too, for Miss Little to take them
‘ with her to kindergarten.

All the way they chattered
and laughed and ran around
all the posts, and walked on.
all the curbings, and Ted
called :

“Say, Grace, do you know
what I’d do ’f I saw a lion?”’

‘“¢What would you?’’
asked Grace, swinging her
parasol, and peering around

into his face with interest.

‘¢T’d just march right up,
an’ shoot him dead!’’ shouted
Ted, with blazing eyes.

‘“¢Oh! you'd be ’fraid,’’
said Grace, with much scorn for so tiny a maiden. ‘‘ I know you would.’” .

‘©No, I wouldn’t,”’ said Ted stoutly. ‘‘I’d march right up to him.”



GRACE.



WHO RAN?

** Yes, I fink you would,’’ said Gracie wisely, ‘‘ cause jus’ like the
squirrel said, ‘I’m not afraid’ and,

*°¢ Bang! went the gun,
And they ran—
Every one!’”

“0, no!’’ said Ted; ‘‘I’ll show you how it would be,’’ and holding
up his fingers he recited :

‘¢¢ Five little squirrels

Sat upon a tree;
This one said,

‘“« What do I see?”
This one said,

“‘T smell a gun!”
This one said,

‘©Oh! come, le’s run.”
This one said,

‘¢ Le’s hide in the shade.”
This one said,

‘‘Hm-m! I’m not afraid.”
Bang! went the gun,

And they ran—: 4,

All but one.” ~ Eel Baca ase



Miss Little laughed, and said, «“Pretty ‘good, Ted. ”?..

But just then a big Newfoundland dog’came around the cornev.

Now although Ted was not in the least afraid of a lion —so he says —~
he didn’t like dogs, while Gracie, Miss Little thought, was too fond of them

‘*My!”’ said Ted, slipping quickly around Miss Little and clutching
her dress, while Grace ran up and threw her arms around him, erying

‘Nice doggie, nice doggie! want to come to kindergarten wif us? ’’

‘* Teddie,’’ said Miss Little, after she had warned little Gracie, for
perhaps the sixth time that week, against being too familiar with strange
dogs, ‘* Teddie, you know —

‘¢* Bang! went the gun,
And they ran —
All but one.’ ”

**Yes,’’ said Ted, a bit ashamed, but with a twinkle in his big black
eyes; ‘‘ and Gracie was that one.’’ Hattie Louise Jerome





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A NEW JACK-IN-THE-BOX.



A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
A FEBRUARY FUNNY DAY.

Groreina had entered school the week she was
eight years old. Dolly intended.to go as soon as her.
mother would let her. Mrs. Pettitt did not discourage

~ her by telling her she must ae wait four years
longer.

School was not dismissed on Waslinetar s Birth-
day, though it is a legal holiday. It was to be a
special day, however. The preparations in Georgina’s
room excited her so much that she made a queer
blunder. She was waiting after school for her teacher
to write a note asking Mrs. Pettitt if Georgina could
not recite a poem. Before directing it Miss Snyder

; said: ‘‘ What is your father’s first name, Georgina? ”’
SPEAKING HER PIECE. ‘“‘George,’’ said Georgina promptly, ‘‘ George
Washington.’’ She meant to say George Pettitt. ;

Her teacher laughed so much that she made a mistake herself, spoiling
an envelope by writing ‘‘ Mrs. pcerae Washinevon SO she had to take
another.

Georgina wanted Poly to go. ‘It will be an awful fay day,”
she said.

Mrs. Pettitt replied that it would be a pity to have Dolly miss a funny
day, and she would go and take her if nothing happened.

Dolly was afraid when she first went into the schoolroom. She
climbed into her mother’s lap and hid her face. She wondered why the
children looked at her, instead of at the flags, pictures, drawings on the
blackboard, or at the teacher, or each other.

She did not know that school children like to watch a sweet little i
visitor, with a pleasant bright face and curls sticking out of a blue velvet
bonnet.





A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

When it was time to begin, the school sang ‘‘ Hail, Columbia, Happy
Land.’’ They sang it with so much spirit that Dolly hardly knew
whether to be charmed or frightened.

After that, Mr. Williams, a minister, told the children the story of
Washington, as a child, a young soldier, a great general and the first
president of our country. Among other things he said:

‘* He was a boy, exactly as the boys here are, and he liked to run,
play, leap and wrestle. In Fredericksburg, Virginia, is a spot by a ferry

where they say he stood and threw a
stone across the Rappahannock River,
‘ He loved to manage fiery. horses.:
Once he tried to break a fine colt of
his mother. It reared and fell back,
killing it. As no one else knew
anything about it he could have de-
ceived her. But he owned his fault.
His mother told him she was sorry
her favorite colt. was.dead, but was
glad her son always told the truth.’’
When Mr. Williams’s useful talk
was done the children clapped their
hands heartily. Four boys then sang
y) something to the tune of ‘* Yankee
Doodle.’ They were scared and
mixed the words so badly no one
could tell what the song was about.
But any one could recognize the tune,
Ee Cre oe Harvey White, a fat little boy
in a pretty suit of clothes, and a new red necktie, next tried to entertain
the company. He walked forward bravely, bowed and began :



‘‘ When General Washington was young,
About as big as I” —

When he got there he forgot the next line. He cleared his throat, and
began again, saying the same words. But he got no farther. He tried



A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

once more. Poor Harvey! Only those two lines staid in his memory,
and at last he exclaimed :

‘«< Any way, when General Washington was young, about as big as I,
he wouldn’t tell a lie.”’

Then he ran off the platform to his seat, and every one laughed and
cheered loudly. . 2

It was now Georgina’s turn. Her name was called, and with very
red cheeks she recited these words in a clear, pleasant voice:

‘* We cannot all be Washingtons,
And have our birthdays celebrated ;
But we can love the things he loved,
And we can hate the things he hated.

*¢ He loved the truth, he hated lies,

He minded what his mother taught him,
And every day he tried to do,

The simple duties that it brought him.

«¢ Perhaps the reason little folks

Are sometimes great when they grow taller,
Is just because, like Washington,

They do their best when they are smaller.”

On the way home Georgina asked her mother if she could hear every
word, and Mrs. Pettitt said she could. fea

‘ hear it myself. And I forgot all about I had my best dress on.’’

‘© Well, how do you like school? ’’ asked Mr. Pettitt of Dolly.

‘¢ Qh! some of it I do and some I don’t,’’ answered Dolly. ‘I like
flags and fings, and when they sing, and it was awful fun when the boy
kept saying his poem over all the while.”’

‘©T should think it wasn’t for the boy,’’ said Georgina. ‘‘ You’re
terrible afraid when you speak pieces, and when you forget them prob’bly
you’re afraider. Did you ever speak a piece, papa? ”’

‘© Once, when J was about eleven,’’ answered her father. <‘‘I had
always said I never would, but the rule in the school was, that those who
wouldn’t speak could not go into a higher class. So I learned some verses
and wore some new trousers to speak them in. Now your grandma had



THE ROUND O OWL.

made those trousers on a one-thread machine, and when I made a deep
bow, I discovered that one leg was ripped nearly to the knee. And I was
so embarrassed I rushed out of the door, grabbed my hat and ran home.’’

Georgina drew a long breath.

‘<¢ Did you get whipped? ’’ she asked in alarm.

‘¢No; my teacher forgave me when I was sent back to explain. And
afterward I spoke my piece all right.’’

‘¢ Was it Washington’s birthday? ’’ asked Dolly.

‘*No; it was only a plain day,’’ said Mr. Pettitt.

‘¢ That’s too bad. Holidays are such funny days.’’

‘¢T think they are, too,’’ agreed Georgina. ‘‘I am glad there was a
February funny day.’’ The Author of Lady Gay.

THE ROUND O OWL.

A wonderful bird is the Round O Owl,
In the alphabet book is his picture found.

And he may be large, or he may be small,

But the O at his side is big and round.

‘‘What is that, darling ?’’ I ask of Lucile, |
Who looks while I point to his place on the page ;

‘¢ That is the Round O Owl,”’ she replies,

And round is the mouth of my quaint little sage.



For the Round O Owl is the babies’ owl,
And never a grown man knows his name,
Unless he has learned from a baby’s lips
The title which is the proud bird’s claim.
And shut up fast in lexicon lids,
I care not how many owls may be,
Nor what they are called by the wise and old ;
The Round O Owl is the owl for me.
William Zachary Gladwin.



DOROTHY’S VALENTINE.

AINT VALENTINE’S DAY was Dorothy’s birthday.
She was ten years old.

For the past week Dorothy had been kept busy
painting little pictures, and gluing bits of lace paper
together.

When her work was finished, she had two lovely
valentines; one for mamma and one for papa.

They found them on their plates at breakfast
time. Mamma’s face shone with pleasure, and papa was glad. He
wondered who sent his valentine. But he looked at Dorothy and smiled.
So I think he knew that the sender was his own little daughter.

Dorothy had some pretty valentines, too. But they all came through
the mail, and she guessed the sender of each.

She wanted a valentine from her own mamma, and a valentine from
her own papa.

At five o’clock, when the children began to arrive for her birthday
party, Dorothy felt disappointed.

Each of the children brought Dorothy a valentine.

At half-past six they all went into the dining-room, where the birth-
day supper was served.

‘*Oh! what a lovely bon-bon box,’’ said one of the girls.

‘¢ And what a large one,’’ cried another.

‘* Have you seen it, Dorothy?’’ asked a third. <‘‘ Look! it has a
card on it.’’

‘*And oh! Dorothy, the box has little round holes in it. See! it’s
moving. Untie the ribbon, do.’’

Dorothy unfastened the cover, and out jumped a King Charles spaniel.

‘‘Isn’t he a dear?’’ cried Dorothy. ‘* This is my papa’s and
mamma’s valentine to me. O, girls! let’s name him Bon-Bon.”’

So as Bon-Bon, Dorothy’s spaniel is known.



May Bartlett.



TAN
ee TAD)
A We

Wi
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“ISN'T HE A DEAR?” CRIED DOROTHY.



WHY SAMBO WAS LOST.

BRINGING HOME THE CHRISTMAS-GREEN.

We’ve been to the wood where the high snowy arches
Are made by the fir-trees and tall stately larches ;
We shook from their branches the fair crystal sheen,
And came back all laden with bright Christmas-green.
. Beth Gray.

\ RATE as See ee eee

WHY SAMBO WAS LOST.

WueEn Marjorie went to Florida to live in an orange grove, her dollies
_ went too. The one that: Marjorie loved best had golden hair and blue
eyes. Mamma called her La Dame Blanche, which means ‘‘ white lady.’’
La Dame Blanche always wore white dresses, but the pine wood they burn
in Florida makes very black smoke, and it was not long before the white
lady became yellow and then quite black, like a darky doll; so Marjorie
changed La Dame Blanche’s name to Sambo.

Sambo was a great favorite. He did not have-to be dressed up all the
time, and Marjorie could take him out in the yard with her.

One day Sambo disappeared. Search was made for him, ‘but that
night little Marjorie had to go to bed without her dear Sambo.

Sambo had been gone about a week, when one day I heard Marjorie
calling, ‘‘ Auntie, Auntie! tum here, tum here! ’’ So I ran out, to see
Marjorie pointing to the kitchen roof.

‘¢ Zere’s Sambo,’’ she said; ‘‘ det him down, quick

Sure enough, there lay Sambo, with nothing on but his little shirt, and
as black as the inside of the chimney.

Marjorie’s brother Albert got a ladder and fetched him down. Mar-
jorie hugged and kissed him, soot and all.

‘¢ How do you think he got up there, Marjorie?’’ I asked.

'??



BRINGING IN THE CHRISTMAS-GREEN.





HEIGH-HO !

‘OQ, Auntie,’ said Marjorie, ‘I ’spect he went up ze chimbley one
day to find Santa Claus, and touldn’t det down any more.’’

The last time I saw Sambo, Marjorie was washiug his face and hands
with butter, to get the soot off. _ Alice Cowan.

lf

a

TERI EEG



Heigh-ho ! heigh-ho !
Winter brings the jolliest times : |
Books and toys and merry gay rhymes,
Beautiful rides over ice and snow,
On a sled so ready to go;
Our jingle of bells is Heigh-ho ! —
Boys and girls love winter and snow —
Heigh-ho! heigh-ho!
Hal Alstyne.



NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

THEY GO IN SEARCH OF HIM.

‘¢On! what a noisy place,’’ said Nurse Powell. ‘ own ears.”’

Instead of going round to the side door that led into Uncle Jim’s
private office, Nurse Powell brought Robbie and Lillie up to the main
entrance, and so took them into the big room where the machinery of the
electrical works was in motion.

But Uncle Jim was watching for them. He came forward, smiling.
Nurse Powell was not expected to hear with anybody’s ears but her own.

**Come in here,’’ said Uncle Jim, opening a door close by. ‘‘I think
it’s a great shame you didn’t let Winnie come,”’ he added.

‘‘He wanted to come bad enough,’’ said Nurse, ‘‘and at first I
thought I’d let him; -but I’m thankful now that the mole dear staid zt
home, for this confusion would have scared him to death.

‘* Not so bad as that, Nurse,’’ laughed Uncle Jim.

‘« Grandpa’s come,’’ spoke up Robbie. ‘‘ He brought Winnie a toy-
magnet —oh! it’s a beauty, I tell you. Grandpa says he wants him to
be an electrician, like you.’’

**O, yes!’’ added Nurse Powell, all at once remembering there was
something she ought to tell. ‘The children’s grandfather’s here. Come
to spend the winter.’’ And then Nurse remembered that this was some-
thing she ought not to have told, and felt sorry enough. For it was
Uncle Jim’s father, as well as the children’s mother’s father; and
Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth were planning a surprise for Uncle Jim, when
he came home to dinner with the children and Nurse Powell.

*«You play you didn’t know anything about it,’’ coaxed Lillie, who
saw that Nurse’s hasty speech had spoiled everything.

“Pll play,’’ said Uncle Jim, ‘‘and nobody will ever be the wiser
about the secret,’’ for all three tried to talk at once, and explain the
mischief that: had been done by speaking about Grandpa’s coming.



NURSE POWELLS GIANT.

Just then one of Uncle Jim’s workmen looked in. He wanted to
know about calculating the resistance of the wires he was going to
put up. ;

Uncle Jim asked him if it was a short circuit or a long one.

~The man thought a minute, then he said, ‘It’s the same kind of a
job we did over to Meyer’s paper box factory, putting in our incandescent
lights.’”’

‘*O, well, then,’’ said Uncle Jim, ‘‘ you must go ahead on the same
principle.’’ -

‘That made you prick up your ears, my little man, didn’t it?’’
Uncle Jim turned to Robbie, who was listening attentively. ‘* And you,
too, I suppose,’’ he said, as Lillie came a little closer.

‘* See all those wires out theve?’’ asked Uncle Jim.

The man did not close the door when he went out, and they could
look right into the big room where the dynamos and the wires and all the
rest of the machinery were. .

‘“< Well,’’ he said, ‘‘now resistance is not suth a big word, after all;
do you think it is?’’ eh

‘“‘O, no!’’ said Lillie. ‘*When the baby began to walk, Nurse
said there must be some resistance, or he would fall downstairs and break
his neck; so papa put a nice little gate across the top Stair.’’

‘* He put a check on the baby,’’ said Robbie.

‘“ who was in here is going to do with electricity——with the giant Nurse.
Powell told us about; he’s going to put a check on him, so he can’t
get along any faster than he wants him to. And he manages that by the
kind of wire he puts up for the old Giant to travel through.’’

‘* But it’s only a little piece of the giant, as you might say,’’ ventured
Nurse Powell, as interested: now as the children.

And this set Robbie a-thinking.

‘See the big engine down there,’’ said Uncle Jim. <‘‘ The water in
the boiler makes a good deal of steam. That’s what drives the dynamos.
The steam is changed to electricity; then it travels along the wires up
there, and we carry it away to be used in electric lamps, or to run the
street cars.’’ ;



“ MOTHER’S APRON STRINGS.”

‘‘And if you didn’t have the wires to show it where to go, the
electricity would run off anywhere it wanted to,’’ said Nurse Powell.

‘¢ Yes,’’ said Uncle Jim, patting Lillie’s cheek. i

‘© Well,’’ said Robbie, ‘‘ I’ve thought of something.’’ He had been
turning over in his mind what Nurse Powell said. ‘‘ It’s the old giant’s
breath; that’s what it is. He breathes out of the engine, and the
dynamo takes his breath and gives it to the wires. Then see what he lets

them do. Oh! he’s a splendid old giant — Electricity is.’’
Greta Bryar.



GROTESQUE.

‘*MOTHER’S APRON-STRINGS.”’

Down the street a block or two,
Lives a boy with courage true,
Frank and fearless, brave of face -—
All a boy’s most winsome grace
Shines reflected in his eyes,

Like two bits of summer skies ;
Full of langhter, fun and noise,
Still he’s not like other boys.



“ MOTHER’S APRON STRINGS.”

There’s a difference — for I know

Oft there comes a crimson glow

To his cheeks — not shame, but ‘pride,
When the other boys deride,

When they cry such hateful things,

‘*' Tied to mother’s apron-strings ! ’’

‘* He’s his mother’s little boy! ”’

‘* He’s his mother’s pride and joy!”?
Yes; it’s hard to bear, I know,
When the boys torment him so.

But he laughs it off; says he:

“* Best place in the world to be!
Such a mother’s mine’s too good
To run out for kindling-wood,

Or to the grocery down the street,
While I’ve got a pair of feet —
Better’n any other thing

Is my, mother’s apron-string ! ”’

So the boys go on their way —
‘“*Can’t plague Jimmy none to-day’? —
And off he flies with happy eyes,
To give his dear one some surprise ;
And as he looks up lovingly
Into those eyes so sweet to see,
And as he reaches for a kiss
The thought that come to me is this:
Give me the boy whose loyalty
To that dear one is strong and free,
Whose heart is true though boys deride,
_ And filled with boyhood’s finest pride,
Give me the boy whose honor clings
Firm, tied to mother’s apron strings!

: Harriet Francene Crocker.



MY PUSSY’S ADVENTURES. — II.

Wuen September came, I closed
_ my cottage and went back to my city
home. Pussy went with me. She

was glad to get back, for she liked to
prowl about the cellar, where the mice
had been enjoying themselves while she
was away.

They could not run about just as
they wanted to, now, for they had to
look out for the krtten. So they used to hide in all sorts of out-of-the-
way places. :

By and by I went on a visit to the South. My family went with me,
so there were only the young man and the servants left at home.

Before long, I got a letter, telling me of a curious thing that ae
happened there. And it was about my Pussy, too.

Now do not be uneasy, I beg of you, if my story does sound like a
burglar story. or it is not..

My letter informed me that one night — or at about two o’clock in the
morning — my two servant women heard strange noises in the cellar.

They were afraid to get up and go down stairs alone, and they did not
dare to go to sleep again, either; for some one might, they thought,

be trying to break ¢nto the house.

So after listening a while, they got up, and hurried on a few clothes.
Then they crept cautiously along the hall until they came to the room
belonging to the young man who pounded the clam from Pussy’s paw. -

He made haste to dress, and, taking his dark lantern, these three
people went softly down stairs. When they reached the cellar door, the
young man held the lantern high, that they might peer into the -gloom.

There was no one to be seen, but they still heard the noises.

They kept on to the foot of the stairs, then stopped to listen, and
moved on again.



“SEE THAT CAT!??



STAIRS.

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HE BOUGHT A LITTLE VALENTINE.

All at once one of the women said: ‘‘ See that cat! Her esa ig
caught in an empty tomato can, and she is is banging it ee the stone
wall, trying to get it off.’’

Sure enough! there was the same Pussy who put her paw into a pail
full of live clams, with her head inside the tin can. And she couldn’t get
it out, any better than she could shake the clam off her paw.

And as it happened, the same young man who pounded the clam from

“‘Pussy’s paw, had to carry her upstairs in the night, and cut off the tomato
can, for it fitted so snugly there was not room to put his little finger
between Pussy’s head and the edge of the opening.

Did ‘you ever know of a kitten having so a curious adventures as
this Pussy of mine had? : ORERNEE:

HE BOUGHT A LITTLE VALENTINE.

He bought a little valentine, with a little golden heart,
And a little naughty Cupid, with a wicked little dart.
‘* To her I love a million times more than any other,’’
He wrote upon the envelope, and sent it to his mother.
M. F. B..










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NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
GRANDPA’S STORY.

‘*T pon’ think you ought to tell stories when we are away, Grandpa ;
*specially when they’re about the giant.”’

Robbie looked grieved.

‘* Perhaps Grandpa’ll tell it all over again,’’ said Lillie.

‘It’s the story you told Winnie, sir, while we were down to their
uncle’s electrical works,’’ said Nurse Powell. For Grandpa did not seem
to know what they meant.

‘Winnie told it to me while I was putting him to bed, and I hap-
pened to speak of it before the other children. That’s all.’

‘*T want to know if Winnie remembered it,’’ said Grandpa.

‘It appears to me that their uncle might want to listen to such a
story as that,’’ said Nurse Powell, showing by her remark that she was
hoping to. ae

‘*Tt isn’t much of a-story,’’ began Grandpa. Nurse Powell jumped
up and called Uncle Jim. Then she asked Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth to
come in and hear what Grandpa had to tell.

‘‘ Don’t you talk of anything but Nurse Powell’s giant?’’ laughed
Uncle Jim. eens:

‘TI don’t believe they have thought of anything else since the giant
introduced himself,’’ said their mother.

‘““T tried to think of something that would amuse Winnie,”’ said
Grandpa, <‘ and as long as the others had gone down to the electrical works,
I thought I’d tell him about the electrical fish Captain Babson brought
home.”’

‘* From what place? ’’ asked Uncle Jim.

‘* Somewhere in the Mediterranean,’’ said Grandpa.

“‘ May I ask the name of the fish?’ said the children’s father.

‘* Captain Babson called them the Electric Ray. I believe they are
sometimes called the Torpedo.’’



NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

‘* Now tell us what the electric fish did,’’ said male, impatient to
hear the story.

‘* First, let me ask how Captain Babson happened to be bringing home
electric fish. I never heard of such a cargo,’’ said Mrs. Wentworth.

The children knew that a cargo meant the kind of goods with which
the ship was loaded.

‘‘The fish were a present to a scientific society. Captain Babson
knew a gentleman who was a member of the society,’’ said Grandpa, “‘so
he sent the fish home by him. The gentleman himself was not ready to
come home.

‘«The fish were put in a big water-barrel. Then a square hole was
cut in one side of the barrel, for the fish
needed light and air, the same as every-
thing else does:

‘ the fish.

‘* All but one of the sailors were shy of
them, for they had heard about electrical
fish before. This man said it was all non-
sense about fish having electricity stored
up in them. So one day what did he do,
but madomalce to pick up one of the elec-
tric rays.’

‘And did the fish hurt the man much, Grandpa?’’ asked Robbie.

‘* Did the fish hurt him?’’ repeated Grandpa. ‘‘ You ask your Uncle
Jim if any of his workmen ever undertook to pick up a piece of wire after
the electric current had begun to travel through it, and see what he’ll say.””

‘They have,’’ spoke up Nurse Powell, ‘‘ and paid dear for it.’’

‘*So did ‘the sailor pay dear for it,’’ said Grandpa. ‘His arm
received a shock that he did not soon forget.

‘But the ship’s cat fared worse. Puss was prowling around, looking
for something to eat. You would expect him to run to the barrel, as soon
as he found out that there were fish in it.

‘* When no one was looking, what did he do but sly round to the water-
barrel, and pull himself up the side until he could reach into the hole.



(Showing where the Seay ts stored up.)



_ NURSE POWELL’S GLANT.

Down went Puss’s paw, expecting to pull out a fish. But he gave a
Miaouw and a yell, instead. Then he sprang into the air, and dropped
‘on the deck.

‘*Puss had received an electric shock. As soon as he recovered from
its effects, he sprang up and ran into the store-room. There he staid for
two or three days. z

‘It took a good deal of coaxing, Captain Babson said, to make him
come out on deck again. Every time he went near the water-barrel he
would arch his back, and show his teeth in a very fierce manner. But
he was cured of catching fish out of water-barrels, you may depend.’’

‘* I wish I could see an electrical fish,’’ said Robbie.

‘*I brought you something to look at,’’ said Grandpa, pulling out his
large bill-holder. ‘* Captain Babson had their pictures taken.’’

‘“«Well,’’ said Nurse’.Powell, «I’m not surprised to know there are
electrical fish. If electricity could go prancing up and down this little
dear’s arm, I don’t see why it shouldn’t stay right in the fish all the time.’’

She caressed Lillie. Then she said, ‘It’s past your bedtime, and
Robbie’s, too, for that matter. But I suppose you both want to get a
peep at that picture, as well as the rest of us.’’

Greta Bryar.





GOING A-FISHING.



ILLS WERE SURPRISED ENOUGH THE NEXT MORNING.





AN ADVENTURE OF THE DOLLS.

‘ Anny’? you glad you’re bought? ’’ asked the Grandmother doll. -

‘¢ Glad? should say I was! ’’ said the Punch doll.

A lady had just been in the toy store buying presents for one of her :
children.

“‘T’m glad I’m bought, too,’’ said the Poodle doll, wagging his tail,
<‘T’m tired to death sitting on my hind legs on this shelf and only being
dusted once a month.’’

‘¢ And you must be glad, too, —aren’t you?’’ asked the Grandmother
doll, kindly, of the Japanese doll.

The Japanese doll was baldheaded except for a little black circle of
hair on the top of his head. He was not so old, though, as the rest of the
dolls. But that is the way Japanese people are. The men and boys have
their heads shaved except for this little part, and they braid the hair they
let grow into what they call their queue.

‘« I’m bought, too,’’ said the soft little Sky Terrier doll, — in a weak
little whisper, ‘‘ and I’m awfully glad.”’

‘¢ T wish you dolls up there wouldn’t make such a noise ! ’’ complained
a crusty voice, from a box near by on a back shelf. ‘‘ My leg’s broken,
my head’s broken and my sawdust is all coming out. I’m in awful pain,
and you will chatter so !

** And I’m sure you’ve no cause to be so gay,’’ the voice continued.
“You wouldn’t if you knew where you are going.”’

“¢ Why, do tell! ’’ exclaimed the Grandmother doll.

‘*T recognized the voice of the lady who bought you. She’s bought
you for her little boy Tommy, for birthday presents—and he’s terribly
rough.”’

The Grandmother doll looked worried.

*¢ T was one of his Christmas presents last year,’’ said the doll in the
box. ‘*That’s why I’m here. His papa sent me here to be mended.
But I know I shall never be myself again.’’

At this all the dolls began to feel sad. Staying on the shelf and only



APRIL SHOWERS BRING MAY FLOWERS.

being dusted once a month, was better than being broken to pieces and
having their sawdust come out.

The poor little Poodle doll began to ary. The little Japanese doll’s
lips trembled.

Because she was the oldest and a Grandmother doll, the poor Grand-
mother doll tried to soothe the other dolls and make them be brave. But
there were tears in her eyes and her sawdust heart was all a-flutter.

- And just then the boy came and took all the dolls away.
The next morning they were all tucked into a little bed near a golden
head.

The golden head did not look as though its owner would be so very
cruel. However, after the stcry of the doll in the box, even the Punch
doll’s teeth chattered from fear.

But the Grandmother doll gave a little cry of joy.

‘ girl!

' «© Why, that’s so!’’ said the Boodle doll. <‘*The doll in the box
must have made a mistake ! ’’

And that really was the fact.

‘¢ Hush !’’ cautioned the Grandmother doll. ‘‘I think she’s waking

up. 2?
Then all the dolls kept very still, though it was very hard to do so,

they were so pleased.
Clarence C. Converse.

APRIL SHOWERS BRING MAY FLOWERS.

Our April went in search of flowers, and when none could be found,
Lay down and cried herself to sleep upon a mossy mound ;
Her teardrops changed to violets that hid her form so fair,
Glad children stooped to gather them, and smiling May was there.
L. S. G.



A MAY-DAY SONG.




-Is merry, merry May !

Now the wild birds’
music fills the
wood,

And we, with gar-
lands gay,

Will go tripping and
singing —singing,

To welcome in the
May.

Merrily, merrily,
merrily we

Join with the birds
in their May-day
glee,

And Spring a sweeter
song ne’er heard,

Than flows from the
heart of child and
bird :

Merry May, Merry May!
Oh! the gladdest month, we children say,

Beth Gray.





























































































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A LITTLE KING AND HIS LITTLE KINGDOM.



Far away, upon the Equator,
is a.group of islands called the
Gilbert Islands. These islands are
not all under one ruler, however,
but each island of any size has
its own government. Apamama is
one of the most important of the
Gilbert Islands. Apamama has a
' population of about seven hundred
people, who supply traders with
copra and sharks’ fins.
This is the little Kingdom of
little King Paul. He is only ten
years old, but he has been the king
for almost a year. He is a very
grave and dignified little fellow.
Little King Paul has twelve coun-
cilors, to whom he listens attentively
for several hours each day, and
although these councilors do complain that in spite of all their advice and
wisdom the little King is very apt to leave the council chamber and do
just as he has a mind to, they are very fond and very proud of him.

There was a celebration at Apamama a few months ago, in which some
sailors from a British man-of-war took part and raised the British flag.
King Paul was out in state, dressed almost in European style. But he did
not like his shoes, and in spite of the protestations of thirty or forty aunts,
who are also all very proud of him, he deliberately took off his shoes and
carried them in his hand.

The palace is at Butaritari, the principal place on the island. Like all
the houses, it is built on bamboo posts to keep out the ants and other rep-
tiles. The roof, of palm leaves and rice straw, is very thick, so that: the









































































KING PAUL.



A QUEER MACHINE.

heat of the sun shall not penetrate, and the sides are made in sections, like
so many Venetian blinds, so that they can all be lifted, through the day, to
admit the breeze.
Little King Paul does not trouble himself to wear a crown ; but in his
little Kingdom the little King has about as fine a time as any sovereign in
the world. ; Way H. W. F.





THE PALACE OF KING PAUL.

A QUEER MACHINE.

Frep pulled out from under the attic eaves, one day, a queer old
machine with two wooden wheels and a forked steel nose.

‘¢ What is it?’’ he asked his mamma, who came up the garret stairs
just then for a bag of herbs. ‘‘ Please, mamma, do tell me for what was
this queer old rattle-trap made? ”’

Fred’s mamma drew it into the light, and brushed away the dust and
cobwebs, but she could not guess what was the machine.



A QUEER MACHINE.

Here is a pen picture of it.

At one end of a plank, sixteen inches long, two wooden standards,
fifteen inches high, are set three inches apart.

A wooden wheel, the size of a tea-plate, and a smaller one above it,
connected by a band made from an old leather strap, whirl between the
standards when the larger wheel is turned by its axis — a wooden crank. _

A three-pronged steel nose shoots out through the left-hand standard
from the center of the top wheel, and stuck loosely into the slot of a stan-
dard was. a little hand shave, with a knife red with rust.

‘¢ Maybe it’s an old turning lathe, or a warping spool winder, or a shoe
peg machine,’’ Fred’s mamma. said, creaking the
warped wheels. ‘* We will carry it downstairs
and ask grandpapa.’’

‘That? Why, that is my old apple-parer,”’
grandpapa at once said when Fred held it
before his dim eyes. ‘‘ That is the first
apple-parer ever used in this
county, and I made it myself
from one I heard tell of way °
off in New York State.’’

Fred oiled the squeaking
wheels, and made straight the bent prongs, and scraped the rust from the
knife of the little shave.

Then grandpapa took a big apple and taught Fred how to pare it on
the queer old parer. He stuck the apple firm on the fork, and held the
shave in his left hand against the apple, while he turned the crank with
his right hand.

The apple whirled with the wheels, and if the shave had not been rust-
eaten, and if it had been held just right, and the apple had been sound
and round, the peeling might not have been gnawed off in uneven mouth-
fuls, as though a squirrel’s tooth had run around it.

Fred carried the old parer back to the attic, glad that he lives in these
times when parers are made to peel and core and slice an apple with a
twirl of its wheel.






GR ANDP APA’S APPLE-PARER.

Clarissa Potter.









































































FEEDING THE BIRDS.





A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
MARCH CHRISTMAS GIFTS.

TuERE were two of them and Georgina and Dolly liked to pretend that
all their presents belonged to some particular day.

One of the March arrivals really was a ae Christmas gift. It came
all the way from Michigan. _

The girls stood by their father while it was unboxed in the barn,
wondering what it could be.

It was mainly composed of a ‘‘curly-maple’’ board, two feet wide
and eight long, polished like glass. When ready for use it stood firmly,
slanted like an old-fashioned cellar door, and a little flight of four ee
hinged fast, led to the upper end.

The first thing Mr. Pettitt did, after he had adjusted it, was to seize
his daughters, put them on the board at the top of the flight of steps, and
let them spin down the whole eight feet to the barn floor. You should
have heard their screams, which became twice as deafening, when their
papa caught their slender mamma, and serv on her exactly the same
awful trick.

This new amusement was a parlor-toboggan slide, invented by a
Michigan mother who had noticed how boys and girls like to slide down
things. She had sent one of the handsomely made playthings to Georgina
and Dolly, and they and their small acquaintances had ‘‘ stacks of fun’’ with
it, especially when warm weather came, and it could be set. up on the lawn.

It arrived the morning of St. Patrick’s day, which chanced to be on
a Saturday, and it was put in the sitting-room where it helped to comfort
Dolly who had wished to go with Nora to see the parade.

Nora had talked to Dolly about the pleasure there is in parades,
parties and various other St. Patrick celebrations.

*¢ Will St. Packrick be there?’’ asked Dolly.

**Laudys!’’ said Nora, ‘‘St. Patrick was dead long enough hefore: I
was born mesilf.’’



A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
‘‘Why, of course, Dolly,’’ said Georgina, who was listening, ‘‘ every-
body that has a day, has to be dead. Don’t you know — Washington,
and Decoration Day, and the men that made Fourth of July.’

‘¢That’s so,’’ said Dolly. ‘‘I never fought of that.’’

‘
‘¢ What is— being dead?’’ asked Georgina.

‘¢ Bliss me, no! Havin’ a day in honor of you,’’ Nora replied hastily.



DOLLY AND NORA TALK ABOUT THE PARADE.

‘Was St. Packrick good?’’ queried Dolly, who liked to be exact.

‘‘T should say so!’’ said Nora. ‘‘He killed ivery blissid snake in
Treland.’’

‘What is a blissid snake?’’ asked Dolly.

Nora, being a trifle puzzled, avoided an answer, by saying :

‘¢Now, if you don’t bother me wid my work, an’ your ma’ll let you,
mebbe I’ll take you to see the p’rade.”’

“Oh! can I? And Georgina?’’

But Georgina hastened to say: ‘Oh! I’m going to do something
different. Were there many snakes, Nora?’’



A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
“* T’ousands,’’ answered Nora briefly.

‘¢ How'd he kill them?’’ asked Dolly.

‘How do I know?’’ returned Nora, rather impatiently. ‘‘ Didn’t. I
say he was dead long enough before I was born?’’

** Long enough for what?’’ asked Dolly.

Nora made no answer.

‘*T should think he would be dead,’’ said Georgina. ‘‘ Killing snakes
can’t be very healthy.’

As an amusement for Dolly, the parade did not meet the approval of
Mrs. Pettitt. So Dolly staid at home, and the toboggan-slide helped her
to forget her disappointment.

But, as if one Christmas gift was not enough
for March seventeenth, there came to the door,
soon after dinner, the driver of a big express-
wagon. In his hand was a package directed to
Georgina. Mrs. Pettitt let Georgina sign her
name in the expressman’s book, and they then
opened the box. For it was a box.

Both children jumped back when the contents
were exposed. ‘‘ What is it?’’. ‘‘Shut it up
quick!’’ ‘* Will it bite?’’ ‘* What’s sticking
out of its head?’’ ‘*Who sent it?’’ These
were a few of the questions and exclamations.

‘It can’t hurt you. It is a horned toad, and
I presume Edgar sent it,’’ said Mrs. Pettitt.

ee GH Cae ‘¢ He promised you one.”’

Edgar was second cousin to the children and
lived in California, and he had successfully sent a horned toad to New
York State.

The toad was a popular menagerie in the neighborhood for many days,
but as the children were afraid to care for it, and there was no very good
place for it, it was finally presented to the Y. M. C. A., as an addition to
its collection of small alligators, of lizards and the like.

Mrs. George Archibald,
Author of ‘* Lady Gay.”







JOLLY WINTER SPORT.



ALL ABOUT NUTS.

Tue King of the Nuts, so good to eat
For either the boys or Bunny,

Safe in a strong box kept his meat,
As misers do their money.

He never worked for his hoarded store,
Yet it grew and grew the season ;
Sun, dew and rain gave more and more,

Nor ever were asked the reason.

When autumn painted the green leaves brown,
Night winds to the branches creeping,
Rattled the nutty harvest down,
With the children soundly sleeping.

The King of the Nuts felt sad and sore,
And we thought we heard him crying, .
‘¢ Ah! I am robbed of all my store,
And what is the use of trying ! ”’

But when, at the firesides, merry bands
He saw roasting nuts with laughter,

His sorrow fled, he clapped his hands,
And was happy ever after.





THE FUNNY MUFF.

‘*Wuen I was a little girl,’ said Grandma, ‘‘ we had very cold
winters. I had to walk a long way to school, and often got very, very
cold— so cold that sometimes I cried because my hands ached so hard.

*¢ One bitter cold morning I was starting for school, and almost crying
because I dreaded the cold so much. I was dressed very warmly, but I
knew how cold my fingers would soon become. ‘I wish I had a muff,’
I sobbed.

‘¢*« Here, take this,’ said my mother, handing me a smoking hot
buckwheat cake right from the griddle. ‘This will keep your hands warm
better than any muff.’

‘¢T seized it eagerly, and almost all the way to school it kept my
hands warm. I ate a bit of it now and then, and finished it just as I
reached the schoolhouse door.

‘¢ After this, on cold mornings, I often took one or two large hot
buckwheat cakes to school with me, and thought that they made just the
nicest kind of muffs.’’ Lizzie Robinson.



MY LITTLE VALENTINE.



IN MARCH.—THE LITTLE POSTMAN.

IN MARCH.

Miss Sallie Lunn

Was given a bun,

And, better to enjoy,

She crept alone,

Like dog with bone,
Where no one could annoy.

When all around,
Without a sound,
A band of robbers gay,
With outstretched paw, -
And hungry jaw,
Did coax it all away ;
She had forgot the saying old :
‘* Shun woods in March when hares are bold.’’
. E. S. Tf.

THE LITTLE POSTMAN.

Brou is a small pug with a very black nose and a very curly tail; just
ugly enough to be admired for his ugliness. He used to be considered by
every one, except his mistress, a very stupid little fellow. He did not
like children, and was not at all playful. He spent most of his time
looking out of the window and barking at cats.

Now this story will show you how sadly he was eee and what.
a really intelligent, bright doggie he is.

His mistress was married and went to live in another house on the
same street, about five blocks away. She took Bijou with her, of course.
But the dog still liked his old home, and regularly every morning after



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THE LITTLE POSTMAN.

breakfast he went back there to make a visit, always returning to his new
home before dinner.

One day his mistress was sick and wished to send a message to her
mother. How could she send it? There was no one in the house but
herself. Suddenly she thought of Bijou’s daily visits to his old home.
Why might he not be her messenger? So she wrote a note, pinned it to
his harness and started him
off. In about half an hour
here came the little letter-
carrier trotting down the street
with another note pinned to
his harness. He begged to
be let in the house, and when
his mistress unpinned the note
—which was a reply to the
one she sent — and petted him,
he expressed his delight in BIJOU.
every way he could.

Since that day he has been a regular ‘idtoroouiee between the two
houses. After breakfast, when he gets ready to make his call, he
presents himself to his mistress and barks and begs until he gets his
letter. When she lets him out he starts off like a real postman, never
looking to the right or left nor stopping to play with the dogs he meets.

He always insists upon having a reply to his note—which is often
only a piece of white paper—and almost any morning one may see this |
cunning little Pug postman, trotting gravely along the street with his
letter. Alice Cowan.



A .irtte bird, like a bit of the blue,
Dropped down from the sky to sing ;
Blithely it sang, and the soft winds blew,
The warm rains fell, and the green grass grew,
And the children cried, ‘‘ ’Tis spring!”





















































HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TRERE.
Il. — ALF IN TROUBLE.

I’ you could only have seen Alf coasting! He
had no more idea how to steer than a kitten,
but scraped both feet along the ground the
whole time. He would start at the top of
the hill and go down a little way, slewing
to this side and that, and then whirling round
and round like a top. By and by, over he
would go into the snow, slipping off the sled
like a rolly-poly ; but up he would pop again
as quick as a wink, flop himself down on the
sled and coast away, slewing and whirling
until the next tumble ; and so on to the bottom of the hill.

After a while his feet began to grow cold, and he complained to Bergit
that there were stones in his shoes that hurt him. He didn’t know that
it was only his own cold little toes that were hurting him.

However, Alf enjoyed himself very much indeed, in spite of all his
mishaps, and so did Bergit and Selma. They had forgotten all about the
threatened storm. Long before they noticed it, the air was white with
snowflakes.

““Oh!’’ said Alf, stopping at oe all out of breath, ‘‘ the snow is
getting down my neck.”’

‘“Why, it does snow!’’ exclaimed Bergit. ‘Did you ever see
anything like it? ’’

‘¢ And it is so cold, too; I am freezing,’’ said Selma. ‘Let us
hurry home as fast as we can. I do believe it is after supper-time
already.’’

‘Yes; let’s go home. I’m tired of coasting,’’ said Bergit.

‘Tm tired of coasting, too; and I wish I could get the stones out of
my shoes,’’ faltered Alf.





HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TREE.

‘*Hurry up, Alf! ’’ said Bergit, beginning to run.

‘< Yes, I will hurry,’’ said tired little Alf. <‘* Let me take hold of your
hand. Please, Bergit.’’
_ But Bergit had stuck both hands in her coat pockets to keep them
warm, and she pretended not to hear what he said.

Alf’s lip quivered, and Bergit heard him trotting faster and faster after
her as she continued to run.

‘¢ Make haste, if you want to see the Christmas-tree ! ’’ she called.



“ DON’T RUN AWAY FROM ME,’’ CRIED ALF.

Just then Alf slipped upon the frozen snow and fell. He got up as
soon as he could, and hurried forward, calling, ‘‘ O, Bergit, come back !
Wait for me! I want to tell you somefin’ nice, Bergit.’’

He could not see Bergit now, but he called out still again: ‘‘I will be
_ a good boy, Bergit. Oh! oh!. oh! Why doesn’t some one come after
Alf? ’’

. But no one came, and Alf began to be very cold.
Adapted from the Norwegian, by Laura E. Poulsson.





\ “ THE PYRAMID TABLEAU.

“A HAPPY FAMILY.

Ir is a mistake to suppose that wild animals can only be trained by
frightening them with clubs and red-hot irons. The famous Carl Hagen-
beck is the largest dealer in wild animals in the world. He recently -
exhibited a collection of them in Crystal Palace, England, which was the
best proof of what could be done by kindness and patience.

All in one cage there were two lions, two tigers, two leopards, two.
cheetahs, a black bear, a white bear, and two huge boar-hounds.

He brought them all up together, and called them his ‘‘ Happy Family.’’

They would walk about on rolling globes, ride tricycles, play seesaw,
draw one of the lions about in a coach while the hounds acted as footmen,
and do many other things, always closing the entertainment by making a
pyramid tableau, with the white bear on top, then the cheetahs, tigers
and leopards, while the lions lay on the floor; the black bear sat upright
between them and the hounds sat on either side. And the great trainer
accomplished it all by kindness. ; W. Hi.



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GOING A-SKATING.





‘€ JUST SUNSHINE ENOUGH TO BRIGHTEN UP EVERYTHING.”

NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
WHAT THEY FOUND OUT IN THE WOODS.

Tue Wentworth children were going a-Maying. In Nurse Powell’s
home in Cornwall, England, they make much of May-day, so she liked to
observe the custom.

Aunt Nell was visiting them, and she wanted to go to the woods with
Nurse Powell and the children, too.

There was a nice fresh breeze blowing, and just sunshine enough to
brighten up everything.

‘“You were a May Queen once, wasn’t you, Nursie?’’ Lillie asked,
as they walked along, ‘‘ and wore a crown.”’

“Yes, indeed,’’ said Nurse Powell, ‘‘ and a beautiful crown it was,

92

too.



NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

<< What was it made of?’’ asked Robbie Wentworth.

‘« Flowers,’’ Nurse told him.

ss ee they have May-Queens now?’’ said Robbe ‘‘in England,
T mean.’

Robbie is a boy with true coe notions, and so sees little use for
queens; and as for crowned heads, he declares it is all nonsense. But
anything that made Nurse Powell happy interested him. And May
Queens, he reasoned, were very likely different from any other kind of a
queen.

‘TI guess they do,’’ she replied. ‘‘May-day is a gala day, in my
home. There are parades, and the children ride about in all sorts of
vehicles. The month of May belongs to the children, in my opinion,’’
added Nurse, ‘‘ but the old Romans believed it belonged to old men.’’

‘¢ T think it belongs to the children,’’ spoke up Lillie.

‘©So do I,’’ agreed Aunt Nell, who was leading Winnie Wentworth.
<¢ When I was no bigger than he is,’’ she said, looking down at her
nephew, ‘‘we children had a May-party, and I was chosen queen, and
wore a crown. Mrs. Livermore was visiting at my mother’s, then. Some
of us said we were going to learn Tennyson’s ‘ May-Queen’ by heart. But
Mrs. Livermore told us it was not proper to say we were going to learn
anything by heart. We should say instead, we were going to commit it
to memory.”’

<< You must remember that,’’ said Nurse Powell.

‘«The old Romans,’’ said Robbie, giving his head a nod, as much as
to say he would, ‘‘ were queer chaps.”’

‘¢ But all the same, they put some good notions into people’s heads,’’
said Nurse Powell.

Nurse liked to tell their Myth stories; the one about the Goddess
Mia, especially, for whom the month is named. Mia was the mother of
Mercury, and Nurse knew a good deal about her.

‘ Robbie, changing the subject.

“©Q, yes!’’ said Nurse, ‘‘ but he cared more about trees that had
been struck by lightning than he did for May flowers. or anything else
that was going on.



NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

‘ about the children’s giant?’’ asked Nurse Powell, turning to Aunt Nell.

‘Yes, indeed; but I thought he was your giant, and not the chil-
dren’s,’’ said Aunt Nell.

‘¢ He’s everybody’s giant,’’ said Robbie. ‘‘ Electricity is his name.’

‘Roland found out that trees were more liable to be hit in the winter
than in summer,’’ said Nurse’ Powell.

Robbie wanted to know why.

‘ the old giant does not see fit to tell anybody, and very likely that is one
of them.’’

They were just in the edge of the woods. Nurse Powell said she was
glad of it, too, for Baby Wentworth was getting heavy.

‘« Something else he found out,’’ said Nurse, noticing the big trees
close beside them. ‘‘ Those with rounded leaves are more likely to be hit
than trees with pointed leaves.”’ :

‘‘T see through that,’’ said Aunt Nell. <‘‘The points of the leaves:
are conductors. They discharge the electricity.’’

Robbie and Lillie looked puzzled.

‘«Why, dears,’’ said Aunt Nell, ‘‘ certain kinds of wires are con-
ductors for electricity to travel through, you know. There are places over
which the-old giant will not walk. He likes the pointed leaves well
enough to touch them and then run off into the air or on to the ground.
But the rounded leaves do not have any place for his feet to stand on,
so he slips down against the tree, and then folks say it has been struck by
lightning.’”’

‘‘T must say that I think the old giant is a funny person to go
a-Maying,’’ remarked Nurse Powell, putting a handful of blossoms into
Baby Wentworth’s chubby little fist, ‘‘ and no mistake.’’

‘ said Aunt Nell, sitting down on a big rock, and beginning to weave her
blossoms and leaves into a pretty garland.

‘*T crown you Queen o’ the May,”’’ she said, fitting the flowers to
Lillie’s head.

Greta Bryar.



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Sk

E POWELL’

S.

-DAY IN NUR

May





A CURIOUS FLOOD-MARK.

‘

Away in the Old World there is a queer little town, up among the hills,

where we stopped over Sunday.
town and under an old stone bridge.

A. mountain stream dashes through the
Sometimes the river rises very high

and even floods the town. Years ago there was such a fearful freshet

that. it almost swept the
town away. On the old
church tower we saw a
marble slab, about thirty
feet above the ground, on
which was written, ‘‘ This
marble marks the height
of the great flood of 1859.’’
It was higher than the tops
of many of the chimneys,
and it seemed so strange
that we asked an old fellow
about it.

“©Q, yes!’’ he said.
‘‘That marks the height of
the flood, but the water did
not go so high as that. At
first the flood-mark was
down here, about five feet
above the street, but the
boys threw stones at it and



A QUEER LITTLE TOWN.

hurt it, and as it was a fine piece of marble, we voted to. put it higher
up on the tower, where they could not reach it.”’ Warren H. Frych.



Oh! what a breach of etiquette; when Nora tea has poured,
The Paris Doll should rise and sit with others round the board.













































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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NORA HAS HER DOLLS TO TEA.



MY PUSSY’S ADVENTURES. — III.

‘Ir you are not tired of hearing about my Pussy, I will tell you of
another adventure that she had. : -

After she put her head in the tomato can Pussy gave us very little
trouble until one morning we heard her crying piteously. We looked
everywhere for her, but no Pussy could we find. All day we called and
called, and all we could hear were the same
cries that we listened to when first we missed
our unfortunate little cat.

At last, when evening
came Pussy’s young master
said he believed she was
somewhere about the furnace.

We all laughed at the
idea, and told him that such
a thing could not be possible.
He talked so much, however,
that the young man who had
befriended Pussy in all her
trouble, thought best to go
down cellar and look around.

When they were close to
the furnace, it seemed to
them that Pussy’s cries did
come from the bottom of it.

GETTING PUSSY OUT OF TROUBLE. ’ So there was nothing to.

do but tear away the bricks

and plaster around a brick air chamber, from the top of which was a
wooden air box. This air box had an opening outside the cellar wall.

The young man went to ‘work with a will, and before long, out walked
Pussy, no less glad to see us, than were we to catch sight of her.

It must have been that Pussy when she was out in the garden, walked





THE CASTLE-BOY.

into the wooden air box, and, not stopping to look ard she tumbled
into the brick air chamber.
But wisdom, you know, comes with age. As Pussy grows older we
hope she will learn to ‘‘ look before she leaps.’’
C. P. DL.

THE CASTLE-BOY.

In Spain papa says castles stand
On every hill-top in the land ;
I do not know where Spain may be,
Except that it’s across the sea ;
But sometimes when in bed I lie,
And not a star is in the sky,
I wish, while ‘‘ patter ’’ falls the rain,
I were a castle-boy in Spain.
Oh! I’d have every kind of toy
If I were but a castle-boy ;
I’d have a bicycle and gun,
A pony that could swiftly run,
A pretty boat to sail or row,
And if, in winter-time, the snow
Should fall, I’d have the finest sled,
And it should be all painted red.
I’d play and play the whole day through,
And have no work at all to do;
I’d have the nicest things to eat,
And love to give my friends a treat ;
I’d be like papa, if I could,
For he is always kind and good ;
I’d never cry, I’d not complain,
Were I a castle-boy in Spain.
Clinton Scollard.





SPRING BEAUTIES,

HUNTING EASTER EGGS IN GERMANY.

Tr you lived in Germany, on Easter morning you would be running
about the garden, hunting under the bushes, behind trees and in all sorts
of queer places, for pretty colored eggs which the hares, or rabbits, are
said to have brought there during the night.

Easter is a very important day in Germany.

It is looked forward to by the children with almost as much pleasure
as Christmas.

After breakfast the hunt for eggs begins, and it generally takes a
long time to find them; for hares are shy little creatures, as you know,
and the nests are always very carefully hidden away in the oddest
places. i

The children are apt to find the eggs in pretty baskets or boxes; and
sometimes they will come upon a beautiful white sugar hare sitting on a
mossy nest, filled with colored eggs.

Don’t you think the German hares are very clever?

Our Easter Eggs verses will tell the story of little gray Bunny better
than I can. I think the German children must be very happy on Easter
morning.



HUNTING EASTER EGGS IN GERMANY.

Easter eggs! Haster eggs! isn’t it funny ?
These all were laid by little gray Bunny. ©
Crimson and purple, green and bright yellow —
Ah! isn’t Bunny a clever fellow?

Why doesn’t Biddy lay colored eggs too?
Because if she did there would be so few.
She’d never find time to lay one every day,

If she stopped to mix colors to make them gay.

But Bunny lays eggs only once a year,
And that’s always on Easter morning, my dear ;
So he colors them brightly in rainbow hues —
Here are a dozen for you to choose.
Alice Cowan.



NOBLE FELLOWS, EVERY ONE,



A PICTURE OF INDUSTRY.

Loox on this picture, do, and see

A pattern sweet, of industry.

This little girl has had her play,
And learned her lessons for the day,
And carried Grandmamma a note,
And now she sews a petticoat.

She wears a thimble, bright and new,
Upon her tiny finger, too.

In basket and in needle-case

She keeps her little tools in place ;

For though she is so young, you know,
Mamma is teaching her to sew.

See how she pulls the needle through,
So each stitch may be smooth and true ;
For though the needle has an eye,

It could not see, if it should try,

The way to go; but, oh! the eyes

Of this sweet maid are wondrous wise.

And can you guess for whom she makes
This little petticoat, and takes
‘Such careful pains — the pretty witch —
With every seam and hem and stitch ?
Why, ’tis for Miss Malvina Grace —
Her doll with alabaster face.
Zitella Cocke.

)

eae





SEWING FOR MISS MALVINA GRACE.



A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
AN APRIL FOOL DAY.

‘‘Then can’t we do any;
fing ?’’ asked Dolly.

** You can do a good many
things,’’ her mother replied. |

‘* But we can’t tie up fool-
ing fings in paper and put them
on the sidewalk, and _ hollo ~
‘April fool’ to whoever picks
them up, same as Gershom
Brown said he did.’’

‘“*No, my dear. That sort
of April fooling isn’t nice for
my little girls. Your mamma
doesn’t approve of fun that
ali erase makes somebody feel bad.’’

THEY SEE HAROLD Cotte: «Will it be any hurt when

Georgina comes home from

school to say, ‘ Guess who’s been here,’ and when she can’t, to say
¢ April ‘fool?’ ’? asked Dollie.

‘«¢Not a bit,’? answered Mrs. Pettitt, and then looking out of the
window, she exclaimed, ‘‘ Guess who’s coming? ’’

‘¢Nobody,’’ said Dolly. ‘‘ You can’t April fool me.”’

Mrs. Pettitt laughed, and just then the sound of boyish feet on the
steps outside made Dolly run to see who it was. What was her joy to
see Harold Duane, who had run ahead of Cousin Angie.

Harold was cousin to Angie, and Angie was a young lady cousin to
Dolly and Georgina, and that made Harold seem like relation, too.

<©Q, Harold! I’m so glad you came,’’ cried Dolly.

<‘Tho’m I,’’ answered Harold, who was only five and lisped. He





A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

pulled off his little overcoat, and revealed a cunning, black velvet suit,
with a wide collar at his neck. Dolly regarded him admiringly.

‘*Sit down in my little rocker,’’? she said. ‘‘ You must be tired.
It’s a good ways to come.’’

‘¢ Yeth, it ith a good wayths,’’ said Harold. <‘‘ But it ithn’t tho far
ath it wath the firth time I came.’” ie

‘
_** Tt is, really,’ answered Mrs. Pettitt; ‘‘only it seems farther the
first time we take a long walk, than it does when we take the same walk
soon again.’’

‘Does it?’’ said Dolly. ‘‘Then we wouldn’t get so tired, if we
didn’t go anywhere till after we had been before, would we?’’

Mrs. Pettitt smiled and said that was a pretty hard question, and she
thought they would better play something.

So they played fish-pond, catching very large pasteboard fish, an inch
and a half long. They played checkers, too, and when their men were
nearly all jumped, they changed the game to ‘‘ Give-away,’’ so they
would not be so badly beaten. After that they went out-of-doors to play
with a big kite which Mr. Pettitt had made for Dolly and Georgina.
They carried it between them and then Dolly held it while Harold took
the string and tried to start it by running. But they only succeeded in
dragging it on the ground. This was partly because neither of them
knew how to manage a kite, and partly because there was not a bit of
wind., They tried a good many times, then went back into the house.

** Well, did you have a nice time? ’’ asked Mrs. Pettitt.

‘* We had a pretty nice time,’’ answered Dolly, ‘‘and we would have
had a splendid time, only we couldn’t either of us shoot off the kite at all.’’

Dolly always told about shooting off a kite, and oe off a kite, as if
it were a fire-cracker.

‘* It is too still to fly a kite,’’ said Mrs. Pettitt. «*I think it is going
to snow.’’

**Oh! do you?’’ cried Dolly. ‘“< Isn’t that too bad.’’

‘* Why, don’t you like thnow?’’ asked Harold.

‘* In the winter I do, but in the spring I don’t, and now it’s spring,’”’
answered Dolly.



A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

«¢ A snow-storm would be a real mean April fool, to-day, wouldn’t it,
Dolly?’’ asked Angie.

‘< Yes, it would,’’ said Dolly.

<< Well, I like thnow all the time,’’ said Harold, in his droll, slow
little way. ‘‘I like to throw thnow-ballth. Thay, Dolly, did you ever
kill a grath-hopper, with a thnow-ball?’’

‘¢No,’’ replied Dolly. ‘‘ Did you?”’

‘* No, I didn’t,’’ answered Harold. ‘‘ But I withe I did.’’

It was not very long after Harold went home, before Georgina came,
and she had plenty of things to tell about the April fool tricks that had

Se
‘ —~— _G



HAROLD AND DOLLY HAVE A GAME OF CHECKERS.

come under her observation. She talked about them so much that she
and Dolly were much longer than usual eating dinner. After dinner they
followed their mother into the sitting-room, and Georgina said, ‘‘ Did ever
anything much happen on April-fool’s day when you were little?’

‘¢ Why, once,’’ said Mrs. Pettitt, ‘‘ something happened that seemed
a good deal to us. My mother told my little sister that she might go and
play an hour with another girl who lived on the corner below us.”’

‘* How old was your sister? ’’ asked Dolly.

‘* She was six. After she had been gone an hour and a half I was
sent after her, and she was not there and had not been there.’’

“©O, my!’ exclaimed Georgina. ‘* What did you do?’’

“*T went back and told my mother, and we all immediately began to



ON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE.
search. But not a trace of her could we get. Then my father was sent
for, and he dragged the cistern with an awfully worried look on his face.
Finally he started out to get the village crier to ery ‘lost child.’ ’’

‘* How do they do that?’’ asked Dolly.

“‘Years ago, and perhaps yet in small places, a man used to go
through the streets, ringing a bell and calling out ‘ Lost child, lost child!’
and then he would shout a description of the child. It sounds very sad,
indeed. It did to us when we heard it that day. He came straight
by our house, and every one ran out to see and hear. Our next-door
neighbors who knew nothing about it ran out, and among their children
was my white-headed sister, who came rushing home in great excitement
to tell us somebody’s little girl was lost.’’

““O, suds! Did she truly?’’ said Dolly.

‘* Of course she did truly, or mamma wouldn’t tell it,’’ said Georgina.

‘* Yes, it is true,’’ said Mrs. Pettitt. ‘‘ And she was very innocent,
only that she had forgotten herself in her play and overstaid her time.
The next-door neighbor’s name was Hoskin, and the people on the corner
were named Hodgkin, and she had misunderstood her permission, and in ~
our fright we never thought about inquiring next door. You may be sure
we were pretty happy at the way it turned out.’’

‘* Well, it was a good April fool as far as being fooled goes, but it

must have been quite discomfortable,’’ said Georgina.
Mrs. George Archibald.

ON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE.

Tue real heart of Fairy-land and the home of fairy lore lies on the
banks of the River Rhine. Fairy tales almost all come from there, and the
little men and women living on the Rhine are so much like the little peo-
ple in the fairy tales that one can hardly tell which is which, or help
believing that fairy stories are true.

I know a little maid living upon the banks of the Rhine. ..She was
only six years old when I een her best, and as quaint a little lady as ever



\

ON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE.

moved in marchen wonders. Her name is Snipschen. It is not her real
name, I am sure, but whenever I asked her she always replied, ‘‘Snipschen,
mein Frau.’’? Wer home is just across the river. from a great city, with
a cathedral and a royal palace in plain view, but Snipschen was not at all
like a city girl. I don’t think she ever went to the city except on market
days, when her father, who was a fisherman, carried over all the fish he
could catch, to sell in the public market.

Then she got into the row-boat beside him, all dressed in her Sunday-
best; with her thick wooden shoes that had been washed and scoured till
they fairly shone, and with stockings on — for Snipschen never wore stock-
ings except on Sundays and market days — with a curious, tucked-up dress
that made her look the veriest little old lady, and a hood that tried in vain
to control her curling brown hair. She would brace one foot upon the side
of the boat and tug and push on one of the oars, while her blue eyes
danced for joy, though both of her little hands, together, could not have
reached around the oar.

Snipschen’s mother did washing for Seals in the city, and that was
where I met her, first. I used often to see her when I took a walk upon
the river bank, opposite the city. The women all take the clothes they
have to wash down to the river, and there they scrub all day, with plenty
of fresh water at hand, and spread the clothes on the bank to dry.

I began by watching Snipschen trudging up and down from the water,
taking the clothes, as fast as her mother washed them, and spreading them
out to dry. She had no hood and no stockings on, those days. That was
when I asked her what her name was.

One day I found her sitting all by herself in a quiet spot, looking
earmestly into the water. I asked her if anything was the matter, and
she replied, ‘‘ I’m only just waiting for the fairies to come and tell me
something that I want to know.’’

I thought that perhaps I could tell her, so I said, ‘‘ See if I can’t be
a fairy. What is it you want to know?’’

She looked up, and said, ‘‘ Why are the roses red, and why is the
heaven blue? ’’

I did not try to answer her, for, to tell the truth, I should like very
~ much to know myself. Sally Thorndike.









































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































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WASHING CLOTHES ON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE.



Nee Qi! Niners.

ll
yu Mot yg







Hi Mavame Hottypock keeps a
a store
Under the garden wall ;
She has crimson silk, and yel-
low, and white,
And pink for those who call.

And oh! such pretty bonnets and capes
As we make, all together —
Sally, Molly, Hattie and I —

In the pleasant summer weather.
M. F. B.

NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
A VISIT TO THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

Every now and then Robbie Wentworth would complain that Nurse
Powell did not tell them enough about the old giant Electricity.

Children’s Evening she expected to tell a story. But Robbie had an
idea that Nurse Powell ought to take special pains to find out all she could
in regard to the old giant, and then inform him of her knowledge.

‘“‘I might spend every spare moment of my time,’’ declared Nurse,

‘‘and then you are so greedy I believe you would allow me to neglect my
duties, Robbie Wentworth ; and pa you know, would be a sin.’’



NURSE POWELLS GIANT.

You see Nurse had strict notions in regard to duty.

‘¢T might tell you about St. Catherine’s Lighthouse,’’ she said, sitting
still for a minute or so, and wondering what else there was to tell Robbie
about the old giant. ‘‘ My brother Roland and I went there once.’’

‘You didn’t see anything of the old giant, did you?’’ asked Robbie.

«
Nurse Powell, you remember, was an Englishwoman, idle so thought
no more of a trip to the Isle of Wight and St. Catherine’s Downs than
. you would of guving to Niagara Falls, or the White
Mountains or the Adirondacks.

‘¢ Years and years ago,’’ began Nurse, ‘‘ there used
to be a lighthouse on the very top of St. Catherine’s
Down. A devout knight built it. He provided an en-
dowment for a priest, whose duty it was to chant
masses, and keep a light burning at night, for the
benefit of passing mariners. But the mists were so
heavy, at the top of the hill, they moved the light-
house down a piece, so to avoid the fogs rolling off the
Downs.

‘‘They put up a tower of die wore and fixed a
strong glass frame about twelve feet high, on the top of
it; this was to hold and protect the lantern. The lamp
had six wick burners. It was fed with mineral oil, and



A POWERFUL ELECTRIC . 5
uIGHT: it gave as much light as seven hundred and forty can-

dles would, all burning.’’
‘¢Whickety!’’ exclaimed Robbie. <‘‘It must have been a buster.’’

9?

‘As I said, there are heavy fogs at St. Catherine’s,’’ continued
Nurse Powell, paying no attention to Robbie’s comment. ‘‘ They shut
out the light, and so make it of little use to sailors. So after a while this
oil lamp was taken down, and now at St. Catherine’s there is the most
powerful electric light in the world.’’

‘How many candles would they have to burn to make a light as
bright as it is?’’ asked Lillie Wentworth.

‘¢Three million; and every one of them burning as bright as day.’’

‘¢ Why, Nurse Powell! ’’ cried Robbie Wentworth.



NURSE POWELLS GIANT.

<¢Truth,’’ declared Nurse; ‘‘ just what I’m telling you.”’

‘ mused Robbie.

‘ The flash from the lantern on top of St. Catherine’s is worth going to the
Isle of Wight to see.’’

‘© You didn’t speak of the flash-light before,’’ said Robbie, becoming
excited over Nurse’s account of all she saw on her visit that she hadn’t




before thought worth while to mention
to the Wentworth children.

<¢T can’t tell everything at once,
dear,’’ she told him. ‘‘ There are
three lamps, but only one is used at a
time. It is the lantern that gives out the flash. Ona bright night you
can see it forty miles away. At the Needles—that’s twelve miles off —
you can see to read by it.

‘¢T wish you might hear the fog-horn, children,’’ becoming excited >
herself as she talked on. ‘‘The syren is the name of it. The old
giant blows his breath into the engines, as you tell about, Robbie, and
they work the dynamos, so my brother Roland explained,’’ laughed
Nurse Powell, amused at the amount of knowledge she was able to
call up on this occasion, ‘‘ and drive the compressors, for sounding the
fog-horn.

A SIGHT WORTH SEEING.



* NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

‘ And it can be started at a moment’s notice. It goes itself—just the
same as a clock runs after it is wound up. The syren runs for six hours,
and gives two powerful blasts every minute.

‘*Something like this: Whew-ew-ew-ew,’’ trying to imitate the
sound, one high, and one low,
which once heard is never to be
forgotten.

‘*H’m!’? mused Robbie.
For he could not think of any-

thing to say, it was all so
wonderful.
«Visitors go and stand below
St. Catherine’s,’’ said Nurse
Powell, speaking in so impressive
amanner, that the children them-
selves almost fancied they could
see the brilliant beams of light
reaching to the horizon in every
direction, as Nurse Powell went
on with her description; ‘‘ but
as pretty a sight as anything you
can imagine, is to watch the
moths float along towards this
light. Some nights they come
in such swarms that the light-
keepers are obliged to sweep
them off the glass, or else they
would shut out the light alto-
gether. And the birds come, too. Flying along as if they thought they
were going to their nests, I tell you, children, it was a beautiful sight.’’
*«That’s the best story you ever told, Nurse Powell,’’ said Robbie.
** You must think of something else about the old giant; s’pose you can
remember anything as good as this?’’
“«T don’t know,’’ replied Nurse. Greta Bryar.



THE LANTERN,



THE FLAMINGO AT HOME.

We had been upon the desert

for thirteen days when we reached
the river. Even the camels seemed
to appreciate the change. Tall
rushes, ten or fifteen feet high, grew
so thick upon the bank that we
could only gain a glimpse, here and
there, of the water. Just before
sunset, however, I found a dilapi-
dated dinghy lying among the reeds.
A dinghy is a boat used in the Kast
‘Indies. It was hardly capable of
holding me, but I balanced myself
carefully, and pushed out upon the
river. Beautiful birds were every-
where, and as I rounded a bend I
suddenly came upon a nook among
the great rushes where for the first
time I saw the flamingo at home.
A tall male flamingo was quietly eating supper. He did not mind me and
my dinghy and I came quite close to him.

He was standing on one long leg, in the water, moving the other foot
slowly back and forth along the bottom and carefully watching it. Pretty
soon he drew it up, with a lizard clinging to his toe. A moment later he

.had the lizard in his long, hooked beak. He was actually fishing.

A little farther off two females were sitting on nests which they had
built of sticks and mud, till they looked like the stumps of large trees ris-
ing out of the water. On the very top they arrange some grass and leaves
and there lay their eggs, resting with their long legs dangling on either side,
and their long necks twisted so that their heads hang over their backs.

Warren H. Frych.



WRERE THE FLAMINGO LIVES.



Full Text


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PorArRop PUBLISHING (OMPANY
Boston.




YOUNG FOLKS’ COMPANION

RAINY DAYS AND PLEASANT HOURS



FOL LITELOST RA, TED.

BOSTON
ILO MIBER CONEY IP EIR pe INiE rs (COMIN We
CopyRicHT, 189,
BY
LoTHror PUBLISHING COMPANY.


YOUNG FOLKS Comes NION

Re





HOW FRITZ CAME HOME.

One day Fritz went in town with papa. They were late, and had to
run for the train. Fritz stopped to bark at a squirrel in a show-window,
so papa came home without him.

Oh! didn’t I cry when I thought I’d never see my little Fritz again.
Arthur cried, too, but he doesn’t want me to tell anybody.

Well, papa comforted us, and told us that our dog wasn’t lost, for he
knew the way up to Uncle Win’s office, and he guessed when Uncle Win
came home that night, we’d see Fritz skipping along beside him.

But what do you think? When the new conductor came up from the
two o’clock train, he brought Fritz in his arms. Nobody ‘put him
aboard.’’ He went to the station alone, and found the right car himself.

Everybody laughed when Fritz walked in and took aseat. He sat there
until the brakeman called, ‘‘ Elmwood! Elmwood!’’ Then he looked out
to make sure the brakeman was right, and whisked off the train.

But he can’t ride that way any more. Next time he’ll have to pay
his fare like the other passengers. The conductor said so.

Emma Frances Jerome.


A HAPPY NEW YEAR!



WHAT BESSIE AND MAY DID.

Sar Bessie to May
While playing one day,
** Aren’t you glad Christmas.soon will be here?
Such a fine lot of things
Santa Claus always brings!
I wonder what we’ll have this year.’’

Then May said to Bess, .
“* Poor Santa, I guess,
- Won’t have time to make presents for all ;
So let’s you and I
Make some gifts, on the sly,
To leave where Santa can’t call.”’

Then Bessie and May
Sewed and sang day by day,
“« Ring sweetly, ring loud, Christmas bells {
For love and good-will
Are here with us still,
Ring sweetly, ring loud, Christmas bells! ’”’
Lilla Barnard,
: Se
i . a
Asa A
\y ri the noise.
A / ‘¢ Tg
as Ay oo Are \. asked Dolly.
me pd “Holl
AX, Ses ao Toller

‘Why, holler ‘day!’’ exclaimed Dolly.

A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

A HOLLOW DAY.

= 460 S Georgina med eight, and Dolly aged
four, stood” looking out of the upper half
of the sitting-room door, which was all
window, a sleighload of big boys went by.
They blew on tin horns, waved flags and
yelled like young Indians.

Dolly liked
It was January first.
that what it’s holler for?’’

what?’’ asked Georgina.

‘¢What’s holler? ’’

doesn’t go to the store because it’s a holler-day?’’
Georgina looked at her sister with an expression of great wisdom.

“0, my, Dolly, you’ve got it very much mistaken !

it’s rally
colseityt 7’

New Year is a hollow day.’’
said Dolly.

It isn’t holler,

‘¢T wish it wasn’t.’’

‘© Why do you wish it wasn’t?’ asked Georgina.

‘< Because,’’
holler the way the boys did.
‘*That’s so, we could,’’ said Georgina, half-regretfully.

only a hollow day.’’

‘* Well, then, what’s hollow is asked Dolly.

“Why, hollow is empty —not anything in it,’’ explained Georgina.
*“ I suppose that’s why we call New Year a hollow day.”’

‘‘Isn’t there anything in New Year?’’ asked Dolly anxiously.

“¢ Not much by the side of Christmas.
and. games, and rings, beside the tree.
under your plates is to put them where they won’t get dirty.’’

said Dolly, ‘I thought if it was a hollerday we could
I thought that was the reason they did.’’
“* But it’s

Then you have dolls, and books,

And all you can do with cards

‘*Don’t you know papa

1
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

At that very minute Mrs. Pettitt was in the kitchen stuffing a turkey
for dinner, and when it was ready for the oven it was not hollow by any
means. After the oven door was shut, she went into the cellar with a big
basket — a hollow basket. Not many minutes later she came up with the
same basket. It was not hollow then. If you had looked in, you would
have seen apples, turnips, potatoes, a bowl of jelly, and a big piece of beef.
On top of these things Mrs. Pettitt laid a paper bag of cookies and crack-
ers and another of popped corn. Then she told. Mr. Pettitt that now they
were ready to take the basket and call on Mrs. Lee.

Mrs. Lee was the woman who washed for Mrs. Pettitt. She had five
little children, and she had to do a good many washings to take care of
them. The Lee family were black as black could be.

Mr. and Mrs. Pettitt, with
Georgina and Dolly, rode up to
Mrs. Lee’s while the turkey
was cooking. They all went in.

- The basket went in too, and
perhaps the Lees were gladder
to see that, than the four who
brought it. Though they were
glad to see the four, too.

Mrs. Pettitt was attracted
to one child more than to the
rest. . He was Clarence, and he
had the brightest eyes, the whit-
est teeth and the jolliest smile
you can imagine. Mrs. Pettitt
talked to him and his mother
was so pleased she asked him to
** dance for the lady.’’

The audience was highly pleased. Mr. Pettitt found five cents for the
dancer, and a penny for each of the other children. They all gave their
money to their mother to put in the bank. The bank was a rickety tin
elephant on the clock shelf, but it could doubtless hold all the riches the
Lees could save.



THE BASKET FOR MRS. LEF.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

**T’m dretful thankful,’’ said Mrs. Lee as the Pettitts were going.
**T was kind o’ blue before you come. The baby fell out the high cha’
three or fo’ days ago, an ’es ’ad a misery in ’is ’ed ever sense, an’ the
med’sin cos’ a good deal.”’

‘She said she was blue,’’ Dolly remarked, going home, ‘‘ and she’s
black.’

Mrs. Pettitt explained that Mrs. Lee meant she felt mournful, and told
the children they must look up some books and toys for the Lees, and she
would find a pair of better shoes for Clarence. '

There was no company at their New Year dinner
which was a fine one. Dolly was rather glad. She
thought -there would be more for her and she felt. very
hungry. But, do her best, a good deal of dinner was
‘left.

“‘It doesn’t feel like a very hollow day in my
stomach,’’ said Georgina. | ew
‘¢ Nor mine don’t,’’ said Dolly. Ze AT
Mrs. Pettitt did not understand this, but Mr. Pettits “ZZ,
did. He had heard the talk by the window in the morn-
ing. He told his wife the ‘‘holler’’ and ‘ hollow’
day ideas as soon as he could without letting the children hear him

That night when she put them to bed, Mrs. Pettitt said:

“¢ We have had a nice, quiet holiday. And before you go to sleep I
want to tell you what a holiday is. It isa day when people stop their
usual work, and rest, and enjoy themselves as they like best. Christmas,
Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Thanksgiving are holidays.”’

‘‘ Why, I thought it was hollow,’’ said Georgina, surprised. ‘‘ Any
way, they’re splendid, I wish they came every day. Don’t you, Dolly? ”’

But Dolly who always dropped asleep in a minute, if she were over-
tired, only snored gently, and Mrs. Pettitt and Georgina saw that she
could not now say what she thought or wished, and had even forgotten
her prayers.

“ say two prayers to-night, and ask God to please ’scuse me, don’t you fink
he will? *’ The Author of Lady Gay.



CLARENCE DANCES.
have something much more delightful.




































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SOME EARLY SPRING BIRDS.

THE BATTLE OF FLOWERS.

Aut Italy has her carnival, so of course Nice, a city of France, must

On the appointed day all the fine carriages in Nice appear on the Riviera,
the principal drive; and those who have no carriages appear on the side-

walk. The houses are all beautifully decorated.
horses, and even the little donkeys, are all covered with flowers.
everywhere carry flowers, and many have large baskets full.

The carriages and

o’clock a gun is fired from the castle, and then the battle begins.
Every one is against every one else, but their weapons are only flowers.

For two hours the flowers fly in every direction.
can throw at any one and hit where you like.

It is great sport, for you

It is the Battle of Flowers,

People
At two










































THE BATTLE OF FLOWERS.


A LITTLE WOMAN’S LETTER.

THE LITTLE WOMAN WHO WROTE THE LETTER.



Dear Berri : }

This is the first time I ever
wrote a letter, but mamma said
I might try. Igo to school all
the time. Last winter there
were twenty-two in our class.
Mamma promised me ten cents
every time I went to the foot.
I studied good and did not miss,
and sometimes I went above
others, and when the term was
over I had one dollar. Ma said
I might do as I pleased with
it, so I thought I would like to
take a book, as she did; so ma
sent to get ‘‘ Pansy,’’ ‘‘ Baby-
land,’’ and Lirrnr Men ann
Women. Ma thought ‘‘ Pansy ’’
was too old, and ‘‘ Babyland’’
was not old enough, but LirrLz
Men anp Women was just right,

like Silver Hair and the Three

Bears. This winter I am in a
higher room. We study arith-
metic, reading and spelling. I
like my new teacher. I have
eighty cents already, so I am
sure I can get my book another

year. Then ma says I may take the ‘‘Pansy.’’ I wonder if any other
little girls get their books as I do? What one do you take? Come and

see me next summer. Good-by.

Your Cousin Grace.
TO THE NEW YEAR.

OF all the things I would like, New Year, I wonder what you will bring:
A tiny watch, a music-box, or a ruby finger ring ;

A furnished house for my dearest dolls — there are ten of every size —

A kitchen where I can wash and scrub, make bread and tarts and pies.

A little canary to sing to me — I would love the darling so!

A pretty dog for company wherever I wish to go;

A pony — that would be best of all — with a cart that would carry five ;
I know just four little other girls whom I would take to drive.

Nell and Bess are my dearest friends, always loving and kind ;

Grace — what a pitiful thing to tell — poor little Grace is blind.

So bring me a pony, please, New Year, always safe to drive,

With a silky coat and a curly mane, and a cart that will carry five.
Mrs. M. F. Butts,

NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
HOW HE INTRODUCED HIMSELF.

7|T was one night when Nurse Powell was putting the
|} Wentworth children to bed, that a wonderful thing
happened.

The Wentworths had been out in the country to
spend Christmas. And it was so cold at Grandmam-
ma’s that Nurse said they all, from Robbie down,
must wear their all-wool flannels.

Lillie began to get ready for bed in her own room, but she felt so tired
she went in to Nurse Powell, the same as Winnie or Baby would.


NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

** You don’t ’pear to have a mite of strength,’’ said Nurse, drawing
her flannel vest up over her head. ;

*¢ What’s that ?’’ said Lillie.

Nurse gave the sleeves an extra pull, and when the woollen garment
fell away from Lillie’s warm little arms some tiny sparks went flying along
after it, with a soft crackling noise. They acted for all the world like
little starry fairies, who were trying to get a chance to rest their tiny
feet on Lillie’s arm.

“‘That’s Electricity,’’ said A
Nurse Powell, taking hold of the (3
other sleeve, and giving it a quick
little jerk.

‘* Hear it crackle?’’ she said,
as another spark flew out. ‘* Your
little vest is just alive with it.’’

‘‘Oh!’’ said Lillie, ‘is it the
same kind of Electricity they h .ve
in the cars ?’”’

‘*Yes,’? said Nurse Powell.
*« There isn’t but one kind of Elec-
tricity, but it can be put to all
sorts of use.’’

‘“You haven’t told it right,
Nurse Powell,’’ Robbie called from his room, “Wool is a conductor
through which the electric current can work.’’

‘‘Then I haven’t got any Electricity in me, have I, Robbie,’’ said
Lillie, ‘‘ the same as the street cars have when the sparks flash out down
underneath them ?’’’

Of course a little girl like Lillie could not understand, a grown-up science.

‘*I believe you have,’’ said Robbie, who was wide awake always on
the subject of Electricity. «And I believe everybody has, too. Elec-
tricity is a good deal nore than most folks think it is.’’

‘See here, now, Master Robbie,’’ spoke up Nurse Powell, << you go
off to sleep, and let Electricity alone for to-night. Time enough for you
to talk on such a subject as that when you can’t wake up the children. ’’



LILLIE,
, NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

“¢ You tell me, then,’’ whispered Lillie, for the baby commenced to
stir, and Nurse said ‘‘ Hush!’’ and began to sing softly :

‘* By-lo, swing low — swing low — low — low;
Baby is going to By-lo land, By-lo land, |

And of babies he’ll meet a gay little band,

All swinging low, low, low — By-lo.

*¢Run right into your room, like a good girl,’’ said Nurse, when she
had finished her lullaby song, ‘‘ and don’t talk any more to-night.

<< You mustn’t ask me about Electricity,’’ she said, as she tucked Lillie
into her snug little bed. <‘‘ Uncle Jim is the one to tell you about that. .
I know this much: like everything else in nature it is subject to law
—the law of attraction and repulsion.

‘<< Your brother Robbie declares that Electricity has just as much to dio
with the bubbles that we saw floating on the water last summer, when we
went down the harbor on the big steamer, as it does when put to the use
of running the street cars; but I don’t know about that.

‘¢ Some cold day you rub Tabby’s fur the wrong way, and see how the
sparks will fly.’’

Nurse bent over to kiss Lillie good-night.

«¢But you must remember, darling,’’ she added, giving her cheeks a
loving pat, ‘‘ that you have to study into the doings of Electricity, and
find out the way to put this power into use. That is what all the wires
you see overhead, on the street-car tracks, are doing. They are putting
Electricity to use. eae

‘¢ Listen, dearie,’’ said Nurse, giving her another good-night kiss —
she had staid so long, it seemed to her that she must say good-night over
again. ‘*I know a story about a giant, and I'll tell it to you the next
Children’s Evening. He’s introduced himself to-night.’’

<< Nurse,’’ said Robbie, ‘‘ come here.

<¢T can tell you the name of that giant,’’ he whispered, as Nurse went
into his room. ‘‘ It is Electricity.’’

‘¢Sh!’’ said Nurse, putting up her forefinger. ‘‘ You mustn’t spoil
the story by telling beforehand.”’

; Greta Bryar.
CHRISTMAS HOURS.

Prerty things, O what are these ?

Much more than twelve or twenty ,
Not a little man but sees

They’re Christmas toys a-plenty.
What is this, with cheeks of rose,

And eyes so blue and jolly?
Every little woman knows

It is a Christmas dolly.
Look again! a book-leaf bright, ©

Where words, lines, verses mingle;
It may be our dear ones might

Enjoy a Christmas jingle.

Lavinia 8. Goodwin.



MY PUSSY’S ADVENTURES. —I,

~Llam going to tell you a true
story about my Pussy.

I am sure every little man
and woman who will read this
story, loves dumb animals, and
is sorry that they cannot, like us,
talk about their troubles, and
tell us when they are hurt, or
need our help.

But my Pussy found a way
to make me understand, as you
will see.

When I went down to my cottage, at the seashore, last summer, I took
all my pets with me.



PUSSY MEETS WITH A MISHAP,


























Va
Tl



2?
ARMS.
‘I TOOK PUSSY UP IN MY
MY PUSSY’S ADVENTURES:

One of them is a pretty young Pia, Had she been an old kitty, I
do not believe she would have done what this foolish little cat did.

But you shall hear the story for yourselves.

One morning I was lying in the hammock, enjoying a nice swing. It
was very quiet all around me, while off on the water there was hardly
breeze enough to move the boats that were floating over the smooth bay.

There were no street noises to be heard, anywhere, but once in a
while I caught sight of a country cart, loaded with fruit and vegetables,
going along the road. :

Pretty soon one passed
the foot of our hill. Just
then I heard a quick, sharp
cry. Was some one hurt ?
I wondered.

I looked in the direction
from which the sound came,
and there was my Pussy,
holding up one of her paws,
and trying to shake off a live
clam. But the harder the
poor little thing tried to get
_ rid of the clam, the tighter the clam held on to het little soft velvety paw.

I got up and went to Pussy. She was standing beside a pail full of
freshly dug clams, which some boy who had been down on the beach,
clamming, had left there.

You poor little thing,’’ I said, taking her up in my arms. JI tried
to pull off the clam, but the harder I tried, the tighter he held on to
Pussy’s paw.

Pussy was nervous, and I dare say the clam felt nervous, too.

IT called the young man who was visiting at our cottage, but the clam
would not let go of Pussy’s paw for him, either. So we carried Pussy
into the house, when my guest took a hammer and pounded the clam’s
shell until he was glad to let Pussy stop crying and run away.

After that Pussy was careful never to stop and put her paw into a pail
full of live clams. OxeP mae:



FOUNDING! THE CLAM OFF PUSSY’S PAW.
HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TREE.

yi

I. — GOING COASTING.

OW you shall hear a story about a little girl who was
going to have a Christmas-tree, and forgot all about it.

Her name was Bergit, and she lived in a far-away
land up by the North Pole, where there is snow and
ice almost all the year round. In Bergit’s country,
Norway, the children do not hang up their stockings
as American children do, and they know nothing about Santa Claus.
But every home has its gayly decorated Christmas-tree, whose sparkling
sandles are lighted on Christmas Eve.

Early in the afternoon of a certain day before Christmas, Bergit and —
her little brother Alf thought they would go out coasting on Giant’s Hill.

sé] am afraid it may storm,’’ said Bergit’s mother. ‘* And Giant's
Hill is a long way.”’ ;

“Qh! but the coasting is so fine there, mother. And, besides, the
weather couldn’t possibly be very bad on Christmas Eve. Please let
us go, mother! ’’

«The wev-ver couldn’t be bad on Christmas Eve,”’ repeated Alf.
~ Please let us go, mother!’’ So, half against her judgment, their
mother said ‘* Yes,’’ and the children began to get ready.
Bergit put on her pretty silk-lined hood with the tassels at the back,
and her other warm out-door clothing, while her mother attended to Alf.
First the little fellow’s leggings must go on, and the funny stubby shoes
with a ruff of sheep’s wool at the top to keep out the snow ; then his over-
eoat and red worsted scarf, and his thick little mittens with red borders
around the wrists, and his jaunty cap bound with velvet. Then Alf’s
mother kissed him and told him to give a good-by kiss to his grandmother
and brother Peter before he went.

On their way to Giant’s Hill, Bergit and Alf stopped at a tiny
weather-stained log house, the windows of which were draped with crisp



4,

H
HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TREE.

white curtains and decked with blossoming plants. The shutters were fas-
tened back, and looked very gay with great red diamonds painted on a
background of gleaming white. This was the home of Bergit’s dearest

friend, Selma. ;
Bergit thought it would be grand fun if Selma could go coasting with

them.
So when Selma’s mother said ‘‘ Yes,’’ off they started with great glee.



bya

ON THE WAY TO GIANT’S HILL.

All was very gay and lively. Alf had a few mishaps, but the giris
cheered him on, and he tried bravely to laugh with them over his funny
tumbles. Every time he fell he seemed to land on that comical little flat
nose of his; and when they came to the big gate at the head of Long Lane,
which the girls could climb over easily, poor Alf had to creep under, and
his stout little body stuck fast midway. The girls pulled him through,
but his red scarf caught on the gate and was lost in the scramble. Brother
Peter found it some time afterward, a mere rag of a scarf then, and good

for nothing.
Adapted from the Norwegian, by Laura E. Poutsson,


























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































HOME.

"Ss

S
¢
=

NDUST

AN I










































HOW THE NEW YEAR CAME.

Erne, and Alfred wanted to ‘‘ watch the Old Year out and the New
Year in.’?’ Mamma said ‘‘ No”’ firmly, and then Auntie Bird pleaded.
Mamma finally said they might sit up till nine o’clock, and see how sleepy
they were then.

Auntie Bird was only a big bal herself; just the prettiest auntie, too.
Ethel’s great wish was to look like her, and Alfred admired her very
much.

Alfred ea: on wearing his hat ;. ‘so I can run out to see the New
Year the minute it comes.’

‘¢ Auntie Bird,’’ said Ethel, ‘‘ what makes New Year’s? Why wasn’t
it New Year’s last Sunday instead of to-morrow?’’

Really, children will ask hard questions. The girl-auntie didn’t know,
but mamma whispered in her ear to look in an old scrap-book.

Bird was really Bertha, but the name was given when she was a
baby because she cooed so sweetly, and it clung to the sweet-voiced girl
now. Bird read the page to herself, and then she told the children.

‘*You know,’’ she said, ‘‘the earth goes round. the sun, and that
takes a year. The moon goes round the earth, and that takes.a month.
The moon goes round the earth twelve times while the earth is going
round the sun once, so there are twelve months in the year.

‘*Many. hundred years ago some people called the Romans named these
months January, February, ete. Your birthday comes in February, you
know, Ethel.’’ :

‘* Mine isth first day of May,’’ lisped Alfred.

‘Yes, dear; auntie won’t forget. The Romans were heathen peo-
ple, and it was long before Christ was born. They called January after
one of their gods, whose name was Janus. His image had two faces, one
of an old man who looked backward, the other of a young man who looked
forward. So they chose the first day of January for New Year’s Day;
the Old Year looking back over the past, the bright New Year looking
toward the future.
HOW THE NEW YEAR CAME.

















































READING ABOUT THE PEOPLE CALLED ROMANS.

‘¢The book says that for many years after Christ was born the Chris-
tians wouldn’t take January for the first month because it was named for
a heathen god, but I suppose they decided at last that a name didn’t
matter much.”’

Alfred was blinking pretty hard by this time, and though Ethel
declared she wasn’t sleepy, she ‘‘ thought she could wait until morning
to see that young Janus.’’

As for the cat, she didn’t care what they called it, as long as SBE
could lie in Auntie Bird’s lap.

Helen A. Hawley.


Tue day after Christmas, while prowling about,
A Chimney EIf chanced to spy,

In the chink of a chimney, half in and half out,
A letter laid carefully.

He picked it up with a merry wink
And a nod to himself as he said,

‘©Ho! ho! little letter, you’re late, I think,
How came you left here unread? ”’

Then opening his wallet, he clapped it within,
And up through the chimney wide,
Far over the roofs with a leap and a spin,
To Santa Claus’ home he hied.
‘« A late little letter, Sir Santa,’’ quoth he,
*¢ [bring you by fast Chimney Post ;
Though Christmas is over, let’s read it and see
What one little child wanted most.’’

Then Santa Claus read, and his eyes grew wide,
While the smile on his face grew sweet,

And looking more closely, the Chimney Elf spied
A teat coursing down the small sheet.

‘* A letter of thanks! ’’ cried Santa in glee ; ~
‘¢ The first of its kind ever penned ;

Of all the little folks gladdened by me,
But this one a Thank you doth send.’’

Lowise Hosea.




















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ROASTING NUTS.
‘THE WONDERFUL NORTH.

TuERE are two countries which have seemed almost beyond the reach of
‘civilized nations. One is.Africa, full of sunshine and brilliant flowers and
grand forests, though Mr. Stanley calls it the Dark Continent. The other
is Greenland —a name as perplexing; for, with the exception of a little at
the south, in midsummer there is not anything green in the entire land.

Long before America was discovered Europeans were sending expedi-
tions to Greenland, and ever since brave men have tried to learn more of
that land. A little less than two years ago a party of Americans, under
the leadership of Lieutenant Peary, started upon ‘this mission, and the
most remarkable thing about it was that his brave wife accompanied them.

On board a strong little steamer they made their way north as far as
possible, during the summer, and there were left with their stores.

First they built a very strong little cabin to shelter them through the
long months of night and intense cold; for the sun never shines at. all on
the north of Greenland except while it is summer here, with us. Then
they hired an Esquimau family to help them. They purchased a lot of
Esquimau dogs to draw their sledges over the ice. Through the dark
‘months, while the skies were still beautifully bright with northern lights,
they practiced walking on snow-shoes, driving the dogs in sledges, and
shot seals and walrus and any other game they could, all preparing for the
long journey over land which Lieutenant Peary and Mr. Astrup, with
fourteen dogs, began on the third of May. For fifty days they traveled
northward. Then the coast turned to the east and pretty soon to the
southeast. That was their discovery; and it was one of the most im-
portant discoveries which has yet been made about ‘the Wonderful North.

The geography maps have never had any lines to indicate where the
north of Greenland was, because no one knew where to make them; but
the next maps of Greenland will be very plain, and the next classes in
geography will know more than we did, all because Lieutenant Peary and
his brave wife dared the dangers and made this discovery.

Warren H. Frych-


LIEUTENANT PEARY AND HIS BRAVE WIFE.
’ NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
SHE BEGINS TO TELL ABOUT HIM,

Winnie Wentworta was a good while eating his supper, and Robbie
and Lillie were getting impatient.

Nurse Powell had told them that as soon as Winnie went to sleep, she
would come up in the children’s room, and begin her story about the
giant. It was Children’s Evening.

‘« Hurry, Winnie,”’ they kept saying ; ‘‘ hurry.”’

Baby Wentworth had been in bed an hour or more.

Finally Nurse sent them off, for she wanted Winnie to finish his supper
in peace. 2

It seemed a long time to wait, but Nurse was ready at last.

Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth always came in Children’s Evening, for they _
liked the stories Nurse Powell told as well as Robbie and Lillie did.
Before long they meant to bring Winnie, he was getting so big. : :

‘¢ The first I knew that Electricity was a giant,’’ said Nurse Powell,
‘¢ was when I was a child about the size of Lillie.

‘¢ My brother Roland — who was a boy as large again as Robbie —
and I were out in the garden picking currants.

‘<< All at once there came a heavy rumbling, and such a rattling you
never heard.

‘¢¢ Just hear that old giant,’ said Roland. ‘Hark!’ he whispered,
as I started to run into the house.

<< «J sha’n’t stay where there are giants,’ I told him.

‘©* Oh! you silly thing,’ he laughed. ‘Don’t you know what
that is?’

‘¢T told him that it sounded like a clap of thunder.

«««That’s what folks say it is,? and Roland shook his head, and
looked wise enough, you may believe. ‘ But it is the old giant Hlectricity.
See him wink!’ and he fairly shouted, he was so tickled when a sheet of
lightning flashed right in front of us.
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

*¢T wondered why he did that, if he was a truly giant, and knew what
he was about. |

“«¢ « He’s clearing up the atmosphere,’ said Roland. ‘ The earth has
been sending up vapors, or else the wind has been rubbing against the
earth, and taken off a lot of particles that make the air heavy, and
the old giant is moving about. When he begins to stir things have to
stand around, I can tell you. We couldn’t take a long breath,’ Roland

Re Ue oF



WINNIE FINISHES HIS SUPPER IN PEACE.

declared, ‘if it wasn’t for the old giant’s clearing up the air every now
and then.’

‘¢ He said he had three kinds of winks. They were forked lightning,
and sheet lightning, and globular lightning.

‘* When I asked him about the thunder, he said the old giant was
opening and closing his eyes. Of course being a giant, he naturally had
GOING TO SCHOOL.

big eyes and big eyelids, and they made all that noise coming together ~

Mr. Wentworth had to laugh at this odd conceit of Roland’s.

‘< He must have been a very clever boy,’’ he observed. ‘* What ds
you think? ”’

The children looked up, and there stood Uncle Jim. Uncle Jim wax
an electrician, so he could not help enjoying Nurse Powell’s story

‘¢T think he must have been,’’ said Uncle Jim.

‘¢ Wasn’t the old giant winking, papa?’’ asked Lillie.

“What do you think, my boy?’’ asked Mr. Wentworth, turning te
Robbie.

“¢ Course I know thunder is the sound that goes with lightning,’’ said
‘ Robbie, ‘* but it is the old giant Electricity, just as Nurse Powell's
brother said.

‘¢T think his winking with his great big eyes so we can hear him is
splendid. I shall be glad when summer comes, so we can go out doors
and watch him. Won’t you, Lillie? ’’

‘¢Tf mamma and Nurse go too,’’ Lillie said.

*¢T’ll tell you something better than that,’’ spoke up Uncle Jim.
«¢ Run in to my shop some day pretty soon, and see what the old giant is
doing down there.

*¢ Let Winnie come too,’’ he urged. ‘‘ He wants to know what is
going on as well as the rest of you.”’ ie Greta Bryar.

GOING TO SCHOOL.

How we like in wind and snow
And wild winter weather

To hurry down the dazzling street
Flocking close together —

Tall Ned and little Fred —
What a joyous rally !

Plump Mate and slim Kate,
And black-eyed Sally.
WHO RAN?

Hark! tne bell goes kling! klang!
From the schoolhouse steeple ;
With a skip, hop and jump
Go the little people.
Tall Ned and little Fred —
What a joyous rally !
Plump Mate and slim Kate
And black-eyed Sally.
Mrs. M. F. Butis.

WHO RAN?

Ar just half-past eight you might have seen little Gracie waiting on
her front steps, with her lunch basket. And further down the street
Teddie swung on his gate and waited, too, for Miss Little to take them
‘ with her to kindergarten.

All the way they chattered
and laughed and ran around
all the posts, and walked on.
all the curbings, and Ted
called :

“Say, Grace, do you know
what I’d do ’f I saw a lion?”’

‘“¢What would you?’’
asked Grace, swinging her
parasol, and peering around

into his face with interest.

‘¢T’d just march right up,
an’ shoot him dead!’’ shouted
Ted, with blazing eyes.

‘“¢Oh! you'd be ’fraid,’’
said Grace, with much scorn for so tiny a maiden. ‘‘ I know you would.’” .

‘©No, I wouldn’t,”’ said Ted stoutly. ‘‘I’d march right up to him.”



GRACE.
WHO RAN?

** Yes, I fink you would,’’ said Gracie wisely, ‘‘ cause jus’ like the
squirrel said, ‘I’m not afraid’ and,

*°¢ Bang! went the gun,
And they ran—
Every one!’”

“0, no!’’ said Ted; ‘‘I’ll show you how it would be,’’ and holding
up his fingers he recited :

‘¢¢ Five little squirrels

Sat upon a tree;
This one said,

‘“« What do I see?”
This one said,

“‘T smell a gun!”
This one said,

‘©Oh! come, le’s run.”
This one said,

‘¢ Le’s hide in the shade.”
This one said,

‘‘Hm-m! I’m not afraid.”
Bang! went the gun,

And they ran—: 4,

All but one.” ~ Eel Baca ase



Miss Little laughed, and said, «“Pretty ‘good, Ted. ”?..

But just then a big Newfoundland dog’came around the cornev.

Now although Ted was not in the least afraid of a lion —so he says —~
he didn’t like dogs, while Gracie, Miss Little thought, was too fond of them

‘*My!”’ said Ted, slipping quickly around Miss Little and clutching
her dress, while Grace ran up and threw her arms around him, erying

‘Nice doggie, nice doggie! want to come to kindergarten wif us? ’’

‘* Teddie,’’ said Miss Little, after she had warned little Gracie, for
perhaps the sixth time that week, against being too familiar with strange
dogs, ‘* Teddie, you know —

‘¢* Bang! went the gun,
And they ran —
All but one.’ ”

**Yes,’’ said Ted, a bit ashamed, but with a twinkle in his big black
eyes; ‘‘ and Gracie was that one.’’ Hattie Louise Jerome


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(cman























































































A NEW JACK-IN-THE-BOX.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
A FEBRUARY FUNNY DAY.

Groreina had entered school the week she was
eight years old. Dolly intended.to go as soon as her.
mother would let her. Mrs. Pettitt did not discourage

~ her by telling her she must ae wait four years
longer.

School was not dismissed on Waslinetar s Birth-
day, though it is a legal holiday. It was to be a
special day, however. The preparations in Georgina’s
room excited her so much that she made a queer
blunder. She was waiting after school for her teacher
to write a note asking Mrs. Pettitt if Georgina could
not recite a poem. Before directing it Miss Snyder

; said: ‘‘ What is your father’s first name, Georgina? ”’
SPEAKING HER PIECE. ‘“‘George,’’ said Georgina promptly, ‘‘ George
Washington.’’ She meant to say George Pettitt. ;

Her teacher laughed so much that she made a mistake herself, spoiling
an envelope by writing ‘‘ Mrs. pcerae Washinevon SO she had to take
another.

Georgina wanted Poly to go. ‘It will be an awful fay day,”
she said.

Mrs. Pettitt replied that it would be a pity to have Dolly miss a funny
day, and she would go and take her if nothing happened.

Dolly was afraid when she first went into the schoolroom. She
climbed into her mother’s lap and hid her face. She wondered why the
children looked at her, instead of at the flags, pictures, drawings on the
blackboard, or at the teacher, or each other.

She did not know that school children like to watch a sweet little i
visitor, with a pleasant bright face and curls sticking out of a blue velvet
bonnet.


A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

When it was time to begin, the school sang ‘‘ Hail, Columbia, Happy
Land.’’ They sang it with so much spirit that Dolly hardly knew
whether to be charmed or frightened.

After that, Mr. Williams, a minister, told the children the story of
Washington, as a child, a young soldier, a great general and the first
president of our country. Among other things he said:

‘* He was a boy, exactly as the boys here are, and he liked to run,
play, leap and wrestle. In Fredericksburg, Virginia, is a spot by a ferry

where they say he stood and threw a
stone across the Rappahannock River,
‘ He loved to manage fiery. horses.:
Once he tried to break a fine colt of
his mother. It reared and fell back,
killing it. As no one else knew
anything about it he could have de-
ceived her. But he owned his fault.
His mother told him she was sorry
her favorite colt. was.dead, but was
glad her son always told the truth.’’
When Mr. Williams’s useful talk
was done the children clapped their
hands heartily. Four boys then sang
y) something to the tune of ‘* Yankee
Doodle.’ They were scared and
mixed the words so badly no one
could tell what the song was about.
But any one could recognize the tune,
Ee Cre oe Harvey White, a fat little boy
in a pretty suit of clothes, and a new red necktie, next tried to entertain
the company. He walked forward bravely, bowed and began :



‘‘ When General Washington was young,
About as big as I” —

When he got there he forgot the next line. He cleared his throat, and
began again, saying the same words. But he got no farther. He tried
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

once more. Poor Harvey! Only those two lines staid in his memory,
and at last he exclaimed :

‘«< Any way, when General Washington was young, about as big as I,
he wouldn’t tell a lie.”’

Then he ran off the platform to his seat, and every one laughed and
cheered loudly. . 2

It was now Georgina’s turn. Her name was called, and with very
red cheeks she recited these words in a clear, pleasant voice:

‘* We cannot all be Washingtons,
And have our birthdays celebrated ;
But we can love the things he loved,
And we can hate the things he hated.

*¢ He loved the truth, he hated lies,

He minded what his mother taught him,
And every day he tried to do,

The simple duties that it brought him.

«¢ Perhaps the reason little folks

Are sometimes great when they grow taller,
Is just because, like Washington,

They do their best when they are smaller.”

On the way home Georgina asked her mother if she could hear every
word, and Mrs. Pettitt said she could. fea

‘ hear it myself. And I forgot all about I had my best dress on.’’

‘© Well, how do you like school? ’’ asked Mr. Pettitt of Dolly.

‘¢ Qh! some of it I do and some I don’t,’’ answered Dolly. ‘I like
flags and fings, and when they sing, and it was awful fun when the boy
kept saying his poem over all the while.”’

‘©T should think it wasn’t for the boy,’’ said Georgina. ‘‘ You’re
terrible afraid when you speak pieces, and when you forget them prob’bly
you’re afraider. Did you ever speak a piece, papa? ”’

‘© Once, when J was about eleven,’’ answered her father. <‘‘I had
always said I never would, but the rule in the school was, that those who
wouldn’t speak could not go into a higher class. So I learned some verses
and wore some new trousers to speak them in. Now your grandma had
THE ROUND O OWL.

made those trousers on a one-thread machine, and when I made a deep
bow, I discovered that one leg was ripped nearly to the knee. And I was
so embarrassed I rushed out of the door, grabbed my hat and ran home.’’

Georgina drew a long breath.

‘<¢ Did you get whipped? ’’ she asked in alarm.

‘¢No; my teacher forgave me when I was sent back to explain. And
afterward I spoke my piece all right.’’

‘¢ Was it Washington’s birthday? ’’ asked Dolly.

‘*No; it was only a plain day,’’ said Mr. Pettitt.

‘¢ That’s too bad. Holidays are such funny days.’’

‘¢T think they are, too,’’ agreed Georgina. ‘‘I am glad there was a
February funny day.’’ The Author of Lady Gay.

THE ROUND O OWL.

A wonderful bird is the Round O Owl,
In the alphabet book is his picture found.

And he may be large, or he may be small,

But the O at his side is big and round.

‘‘What is that, darling ?’’ I ask of Lucile, |
Who looks while I point to his place on the page ;

‘¢ That is the Round O Owl,”’ she replies,

And round is the mouth of my quaint little sage.



For the Round O Owl is the babies’ owl,
And never a grown man knows his name,
Unless he has learned from a baby’s lips
The title which is the proud bird’s claim.
And shut up fast in lexicon lids,
I care not how many owls may be,
Nor what they are called by the wise and old ;
The Round O Owl is the owl for me.
William Zachary Gladwin.
DOROTHY’S VALENTINE.

AINT VALENTINE’S DAY was Dorothy’s birthday.
She was ten years old.

For the past week Dorothy had been kept busy
painting little pictures, and gluing bits of lace paper
together.

When her work was finished, she had two lovely
valentines; one for mamma and one for papa.

They found them on their plates at breakfast
time. Mamma’s face shone with pleasure, and papa was glad. He
wondered who sent his valentine. But he looked at Dorothy and smiled.
So I think he knew that the sender was his own little daughter.

Dorothy had some pretty valentines, too. But they all came through
the mail, and she guessed the sender of each.

She wanted a valentine from her own mamma, and a valentine from
her own papa.

At five o’clock, when the children began to arrive for her birthday
party, Dorothy felt disappointed.

Each of the children brought Dorothy a valentine.

At half-past six they all went into the dining-room, where the birth-
day supper was served.

‘*Oh! what a lovely bon-bon box,’’ said one of the girls.

‘¢ And what a large one,’’ cried another.

‘* Have you seen it, Dorothy?’’ asked a third. <‘‘ Look! it has a
card on it.’’

‘*And oh! Dorothy, the box has little round holes in it. See! it’s
moving. Untie the ribbon, do.’’

Dorothy unfastened the cover, and out jumped a King Charles spaniel.

‘‘Isn’t he a dear?’’ cried Dorothy. ‘* This is my papa’s and
mamma’s valentine to me. O, girls! let’s name him Bon-Bon.”’

So as Bon-Bon, Dorothy’s spaniel is known.



May Bartlett.
TAN
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A We

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“ISN'T HE A DEAR?” CRIED DOROTHY.
WHY SAMBO WAS LOST.

BRINGING HOME THE CHRISTMAS-GREEN.

We’ve been to the wood where the high snowy arches
Are made by the fir-trees and tall stately larches ;
We shook from their branches the fair crystal sheen,
And came back all laden with bright Christmas-green.
. Beth Gray.

\ RATE as See ee eee

WHY SAMBO WAS LOST.

WueEn Marjorie went to Florida to live in an orange grove, her dollies
_ went too. The one that: Marjorie loved best had golden hair and blue
eyes. Mamma called her La Dame Blanche, which means ‘‘ white lady.’’
La Dame Blanche always wore white dresses, but the pine wood they burn
in Florida makes very black smoke, and it was not long before the white
lady became yellow and then quite black, like a darky doll; so Marjorie
changed La Dame Blanche’s name to Sambo.

Sambo was a great favorite. He did not have-to be dressed up all the
time, and Marjorie could take him out in the yard with her.

One day Sambo disappeared. Search was made for him, ‘but that
night little Marjorie had to go to bed without her dear Sambo.

Sambo had been gone about a week, when one day I heard Marjorie
calling, ‘‘ Auntie, Auntie! tum here, tum here! ’’ So I ran out, to see
Marjorie pointing to the kitchen roof.

‘¢ Zere’s Sambo,’’ she said; ‘‘ det him down, quick

Sure enough, there lay Sambo, with nothing on but his little shirt, and
as black as the inside of the chimney.

Marjorie’s brother Albert got a ladder and fetched him down. Mar-
jorie hugged and kissed him, soot and all.

‘¢ How do you think he got up there, Marjorie?’’ I asked.

'??
BRINGING IN THE CHRISTMAS-GREEN.


HEIGH-HO !

‘OQ, Auntie,’ said Marjorie, ‘I ’spect he went up ze chimbley one
day to find Santa Claus, and touldn’t det down any more.’’

The last time I saw Sambo, Marjorie was washiug his face and hands
with butter, to get the soot off. _ Alice Cowan.

lf

a

TERI EEG



Heigh-ho ! heigh-ho !
Winter brings the jolliest times : |
Books and toys and merry gay rhymes,
Beautiful rides over ice and snow,
On a sled so ready to go;
Our jingle of bells is Heigh-ho ! —
Boys and girls love winter and snow —
Heigh-ho! heigh-ho!
Hal Alstyne.
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

THEY GO IN SEARCH OF HIM.

‘¢On! what a noisy place,’’ said Nurse Powell. ‘ own ears.”’

Instead of going round to the side door that led into Uncle Jim’s
private office, Nurse Powell brought Robbie and Lillie up to the main
entrance, and so took them into the big room where the machinery of the
electrical works was in motion.

But Uncle Jim was watching for them. He came forward, smiling.
Nurse Powell was not expected to hear with anybody’s ears but her own.

**Come in here,’’ said Uncle Jim, opening a door close by. ‘‘I think
it’s a great shame you didn’t let Winnie come,”’ he added.

‘‘He wanted to come bad enough,’’ said Nurse, ‘‘and at first I
thought I’d let him; -but I’m thankful now that the mole dear staid zt
home, for this confusion would have scared him to death.

‘* Not so bad as that, Nurse,’’ laughed Uncle Jim.

‘« Grandpa’s come,’’ spoke up Robbie. ‘‘ He brought Winnie a toy-
magnet —oh! it’s a beauty, I tell you. Grandpa says he wants him to
be an electrician, like you.’’

**O, yes!’’ added Nurse Powell, all at once remembering there was
something she ought to tell. ‘The children’s grandfather’s here. Come
to spend the winter.’’ And then Nurse remembered that this was some-
thing she ought not to have told, and felt sorry enough. For it was
Uncle Jim’s father, as well as the children’s mother’s father; and
Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth were planning a surprise for Uncle Jim, when
he came home to dinner with the children and Nurse Powell.

*«You play you didn’t know anything about it,’’ coaxed Lillie, who
saw that Nurse’s hasty speech had spoiled everything.

“Pll play,’’ said Uncle Jim, ‘‘and nobody will ever be the wiser
about the secret,’’ for all three tried to talk at once, and explain the
mischief that: had been done by speaking about Grandpa’s coming.
NURSE POWELLS GIANT.

Just then one of Uncle Jim’s workmen looked in. He wanted to
know about calculating the resistance of the wires he was going to
put up. ;

Uncle Jim asked him if it was a short circuit or a long one.

~The man thought a minute, then he said, ‘It’s the same kind of a
job we did over to Meyer’s paper box factory, putting in our incandescent
lights.’”’

‘*O, well, then,’’ said Uncle Jim, ‘‘ you must go ahead on the same
principle.’’ -

‘That made you prick up your ears, my little man, didn’t it?’’
Uncle Jim turned to Robbie, who was listening attentively. ‘* And you,
too, I suppose,’’ he said, as Lillie came a little closer.

‘* See all those wires out theve?’’ asked Uncle Jim.

The man did not close the door when he went out, and they could
look right into the big room where the dynamos and the wires and all the
rest of the machinery were. .

‘“< Well,’’ he said, ‘‘now resistance is not suth a big word, after all;
do you think it is?’’ eh

‘“‘O, no!’’ said Lillie. ‘*When the baby began to walk, Nurse
said there must be some resistance, or he would fall downstairs and break
his neck; so papa put a nice little gate across the top Stair.’’

‘* He put a check on the baby,’’ said Robbie.

‘“ who was in here is going to do with electricity——with the giant Nurse.
Powell told us about; he’s going to put a check on him, so he can’t
get along any faster than he wants him to. And he manages that by the
kind of wire he puts up for the old Giant to travel through.’’

‘* But it’s only a little piece of the giant, as you might say,’’ ventured
Nurse Powell, as interested: now as the children.

And this set Robbie a-thinking.

‘See the big engine down there,’’ said Uncle Jim. <‘‘ The water in
the boiler makes a good deal of steam. That’s what drives the dynamos.
The steam is changed to electricity; then it travels along the wires up
there, and we carry it away to be used in electric lamps, or to run the
street cars.’’ ;
“ MOTHER’S APRON STRINGS.”

‘‘And if you didn’t have the wires to show it where to go, the
electricity would run off anywhere it wanted to,’’ said Nurse Powell.

‘¢ Yes,’’ said Uncle Jim, patting Lillie’s cheek. i

‘© Well,’’ said Robbie, ‘‘ I’ve thought of something.’’ He had been
turning over in his mind what Nurse Powell said. ‘‘ It’s the old giant’s
breath; that’s what it is. He breathes out of the engine, and the
dynamo takes his breath and gives it to the wires. Then see what he lets

them do. Oh! he’s a splendid old giant — Electricity is.’’
Greta Bryar.



GROTESQUE.

‘*MOTHER’S APRON-STRINGS.”’

Down the street a block or two,
Lives a boy with courage true,
Frank and fearless, brave of face -—
All a boy’s most winsome grace
Shines reflected in his eyes,

Like two bits of summer skies ;
Full of langhter, fun and noise,
Still he’s not like other boys.
“ MOTHER’S APRON STRINGS.”

There’s a difference — for I know

Oft there comes a crimson glow

To his cheeks — not shame, but ‘pride,
When the other boys deride,

When they cry such hateful things,

‘*' Tied to mother’s apron-strings ! ’’

‘* He’s his mother’s little boy! ”’

‘* He’s his mother’s pride and joy!”?
Yes; it’s hard to bear, I know,
When the boys torment him so.

But he laughs it off; says he:

“* Best place in the world to be!
Such a mother’s mine’s too good
To run out for kindling-wood,

Or to the grocery down the street,
While I’ve got a pair of feet —
Better’n any other thing

Is my, mother’s apron-string ! ”’

So the boys go on their way —
‘“*Can’t plague Jimmy none to-day’? —
And off he flies with happy eyes,
To give his dear one some surprise ;
And as he looks up lovingly
Into those eyes so sweet to see,
And as he reaches for a kiss
The thought that come to me is this:
Give me the boy whose loyalty
To that dear one is strong and free,
Whose heart is true though boys deride,
_ And filled with boyhood’s finest pride,
Give me the boy whose honor clings
Firm, tied to mother’s apron strings!

: Harriet Francene Crocker.
MY PUSSY’S ADVENTURES. — II.

Wuen September came, I closed
_ my cottage and went back to my city
home. Pussy went with me. She

was glad to get back, for she liked to
prowl about the cellar, where the mice
had been enjoying themselves while she
was away.

They could not run about just as
they wanted to, now, for they had to
look out for the krtten. So they used to hide in all sorts of out-of-the-
way places. :

By and by I went on a visit to the South. My family went with me,
so there were only the young man and the servants left at home.

Before long, I got a letter, telling me of a curious thing that ae
happened there. And it was about my Pussy, too.

Now do not be uneasy, I beg of you, if my story does sound like a
burglar story. or it is not..

My letter informed me that one night — or at about two o’clock in the
morning — my two servant women heard strange noises in the cellar.

They were afraid to get up and go down stairs alone, and they did not
dare to go to sleep again, either; for some one might, they thought,

be trying to break ¢nto the house.

So after listening a while, they got up, and hurried on a few clothes.
Then they crept cautiously along the hall until they came to the room
belonging to the young man who pounded the clam from Pussy’s paw. -

He made haste to dress, and, taking his dark lantern, these three
people went softly down stairs. When they reached the cellar door, the
young man held the lantern high, that they might peer into the -gloom.

There was no one to be seen, but they still heard the noises.

They kept on to the foot of the stairs, then stopped to listen, and
moved on again.



“SEE THAT CAT!??
STAIRS.

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THEY K


HE BOUGHT A LITTLE VALENTINE.

All at once one of the women said: ‘‘ See that cat! Her esa ig
caught in an empty tomato can, and she is is banging it ee the stone
wall, trying to get it off.’’

Sure enough! there was the same Pussy who put her paw into a pail
full of live clams, with her head inside the tin can. And she couldn’t get
it out, any better than she could shake the clam off her paw.

And as it happened, the same young man who pounded the clam from

“‘Pussy’s paw, had to carry her upstairs in the night, and cut off the tomato
can, for it fitted so snugly there was not room to put his little finger
between Pussy’s head and the edge of the opening.

Did ‘you ever know of a kitten having so a curious adventures as
this Pussy of mine had? : ORERNEE:

HE BOUGHT A LITTLE VALENTINE.

He bought a little valentine, with a little golden heart,
And a little naughty Cupid, with a wicked little dart.
‘* To her I love a million times more than any other,’’
He wrote upon the envelope, and sent it to his mother.
M. F. B..










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NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
GRANDPA’S STORY.

‘*T pon’ think you ought to tell stories when we are away, Grandpa ;
*specially when they’re about the giant.”’

Robbie looked grieved.

‘* Perhaps Grandpa’ll tell it all over again,’’ said Lillie.

‘It’s the story you told Winnie, sir, while we were down to their
uncle’s electrical works,’’ said Nurse Powell. For Grandpa did not seem
to know what they meant.

‘Winnie told it to me while I was putting him to bed, and I hap-
pened to speak of it before the other children. That’s all.’

‘*T want to know if Winnie remembered it,’’ said Grandpa.

‘It appears to me that their uncle might want to listen to such a
story as that,’’ said Nurse Powell, showing by her remark that she was
hoping to. ae

‘*Tt isn’t much of a-story,’’ began Grandpa. Nurse Powell jumped
up and called Uncle Jim. Then she asked Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth to
come in and hear what Grandpa had to tell.

‘‘ Don’t you talk of anything but Nurse Powell’s giant?’’ laughed
Uncle Jim. eens:

‘TI don’t believe they have thought of anything else since the giant
introduced himself,’’ said their mother.

‘““T tried to think of something that would amuse Winnie,”’ said
Grandpa, <‘ and as long as the others had gone down to the electrical works,
I thought I’d tell him about the electrical fish Captain Babson brought
home.”’

‘* From what place? ’’ asked Uncle Jim.

‘* Somewhere in the Mediterranean,’’ said Grandpa.

“‘ May I ask the name of the fish?’ said the children’s father.

‘* Captain Babson called them the Electric Ray. I believe they are
sometimes called the Torpedo.’’
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

‘* Now tell us what the electric fish did,’’ said male, impatient to
hear the story.

‘* First, let me ask how Captain Babson happened to be bringing home
electric fish. I never heard of such a cargo,’’ said Mrs. Wentworth.

The children knew that a cargo meant the kind of goods with which
the ship was loaded.

‘‘The fish were a present to a scientific society. Captain Babson
knew a gentleman who was a member of the society,’’ said Grandpa, “‘so
he sent the fish home by him. The gentleman himself was not ready to
come home.

‘«The fish were put in a big water-barrel. Then a square hole was
cut in one side of the barrel, for the fish
needed light and air, the same as every-
thing else does:

‘ the fish.

‘* All but one of the sailors were shy of
them, for they had heard about electrical
fish before. This man said it was all non-
sense about fish having electricity stored
up in them. So one day what did he do,
but madomalce to pick up one of the elec-
tric rays.’

‘And did the fish hurt the man much, Grandpa?’’ asked Robbie.

‘* Did the fish hurt him?’’ repeated Grandpa. ‘‘ You ask your Uncle
Jim if any of his workmen ever undertook to pick up a piece of wire after
the electric current had begun to travel through it, and see what he’ll say.””

‘They have,’’ spoke up Nurse Powell, ‘‘ and paid dear for it.’’

‘*So did ‘the sailor pay dear for it,’’ said Grandpa. ‘His arm
received a shock that he did not soon forget.

‘But the ship’s cat fared worse. Puss was prowling around, looking
for something to eat. You would expect him to run to the barrel, as soon
as he found out that there were fish in it.

‘* When no one was looking, what did he do but sly round to the water-
barrel, and pull himself up the side until he could reach into the hole.



(Showing where the Seay ts stored up.)
_ NURSE POWELL’S GLANT.

Down went Puss’s paw, expecting to pull out a fish. But he gave a
Miaouw and a yell, instead. Then he sprang into the air, and dropped
‘on the deck.

‘*Puss had received an electric shock. As soon as he recovered from
its effects, he sprang up and ran into the store-room. There he staid for
two or three days. z

‘It took a good deal of coaxing, Captain Babson said, to make him
come out on deck again. Every time he went near the water-barrel he
would arch his back, and show his teeth in a very fierce manner. But
he was cured of catching fish out of water-barrels, you may depend.’’

‘* I wish I could see an electrical fish,’’ said Robbie.

‘*I brought you something to look at,’’ said Grandpa, pulling out his
large bill-holder. ‘* Captain Babson had their pictures taken.’’

‘“«Well,’’ said Nurse’.Powell, «I’m not surprised to know there are
electrical fish. If electricity could go prancing up and down this little
dear’s arm, I don’t see why it shouldn’t stay right in the fish all the time.’’

She caressed Lillie. Then she said, ‘It’s past your bedtime, and
Robbie’s, too, for that matter. But I suppose you both want to get a
peep at that picture, as well as the rest of us.’’

Greta Bryar.





GOING A-FISHING.
ILLS WERE SURPRISED ENOUGH THE NEXT MORNING.


AN ADVENTURE OF THE DOLLS.

‘ Anny’? you glad you’re bought? ’’ asked the Grandmother doll. -

‘¢ Glad? should say I was! ’’ said the Punch doll.

A lady had just been in the toy store buying presents for one of her :
children.

“‘T’m glad I’m bought, too,’’ said the Poodle doll, wagging his tail,
<‘T’m tired to death sitting on my hind legs on this shelf and only being
dusted once a month.’’

‘¢ And you must be glad, too, —aren’t you?’’ asked the Grandmother
doll, kindly, of the Japanese doll.

The Japanese doll was baldheaded except for a little black circle of
hair on the top of his head. He was not so old, though, as the rest of the
dolls. But that is the way Japanese people are. The men and boys have
their heads shaved except for this little part, and they braid the hair they
let grow into what they call their queue.

‘« I’m bought, too,’’ said the soft little Sky Terrier doll, — in a weak
little whisper, ‘‘ and I’m awfully glad.”’

‘¢ T wish you dolls up there wouldn’t make such a noise ! ’’ complained
a crusty voice, from a box near by on a back shelf. ‘‘ My leg’s broken,
my head’s broken and my sawdust is all coming out. I’m in awful pain,
and you will chatter so !

** And I’m sure you’ve no cause to be so gay,’’ the voice continued.
“You wouldn’t if you knew where you are going.”’

“¢ Why, do tell! ’’ exclaimed the Grandmother doll.

‘*T recognized the voice of the lady who bought you. She’s bought
you for her little boy Tommy, for birthday presents—and he’s terribly
rough.”’

The Grandmother doll looked worried.

*¢ T was one of his Christmas presents last year,’’ said the doll in the
box. ‘*That’s why I’m here. His papa sent me here to be mended.
But I know I shall never be myself again.’’

At this all the dolls began to feel sad. Staying on the shelf and only
APRIL SHOWERS BRING MAY FLOWERS.

being dusted once a month, was better than being broken to pieces and
having their sawdust come out.

The poor little Poodle doll began to ary. The little Japanese doll’s
lips trembled.

Because she was the oldest and a Grandmother doll, the poor Grand-
mother doll tried to soothe the other dolls and make them be brave. But
there were tears in her eyes and her sawdust heart was all a-flutter.

- And just then the boy came and took all the dolls away.
The next morning they were all tucked into a little bed near a golden
head.

The golden head did not look as though its owner would be so very
cruel. However, after the stcry of the doll in the box, even the Punch
doll’s teeth chattered from fear.

But the Grandmother doll gave a little cry of joy.

‘ girl!

' «© Why, that’s so!’’ said the Boodle doll. <‘*The doll in the box
must have made a mistake ! ’’

And that really was the fact.

‘¢ Hush !’’ cautioned the Grandmother doll. ‘‘I think she’s waking

up. 2?
Then all the dolls kept very still, though it was very hard to do so,

they were so pleased.
Clarence C. Converse.

APRIL SHOWERS BRING MAY FLOWERS.

Our April went in search of flowers, and when none could be found,
Lay down and cried herself to sleep upon a mossy mound ;
Her teardrops changed to violets that hid her form so fair,
Glad children stooped to gather them, and smiling May was there.
L. S. G.
A MAY-DAY SONG.




-Is merry, merry May !

Now the wild birds’
music fills the
wood,

And we, with gar-
lands gay,

Will go tripping and
singing —singing,

To welcome in the
May.

Merrily, merrily,
merrily we

Join with the birds
in their May-day
glee,

And Spring a sweeter
song ne’er heard,

Than flows from the
heart of child and
bird :

Merry May, Merry May!
Oh! the gladdest month, we children say,

Beth Gray.


























































































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A LITTLE KING AND HIS LITTLE KINGDOM.



Far away, upon the Equator,
is a.group of islands called the
Gilbert Islands. These islands are
not all under one ruler, however,
but each island of any size has
its own government. Apamama is
one of the most important of the
Gilbert Islands. Apamama has a
' population of about seven hundred
people, who supply traders with
copra and sharks’ fins.
This is the little Kingdom of
little King Paul. He is only ten
years old, but he has been the king
for almost a year. He is a very
grave and dignified little fellow.
Little King Paul has twelve coun-
cilors, to whom he listens attentively
for several hours each day, and
although these councilors do complain that in spite of all their advice and
wisdom the little King is very apt to leave the council chamber and do
just as he has a mind to, they are very fond and very proud of him.

There was a celebration at Apamama a few months ago, in which some
sailors from a British man-of-war took part and raised the British flag.
King Paul was out in state, dressed almost in European style. But he did
not like his shoes, and in spite of the protestations of thirty or forty aunts,
who are also all very proud of him, he deliberately took off his shoes and
carried them in his hand.

The palace is at Butaritari, the principal place on the island. Like all
the houses, it is built on bamboo posts to keep out the ants and other rep-
tiles. The roof, of palm leaves and rice straw, is very thick, so that: the









































































KING PAUL.
A QUEER MACHINE.

heat of the sun shall not penetrate, and the sides are made in sections, like
so many Venetian blinds, so that they can all be lifted, through the day, to
admit the breeze.
Little King Paul does not trouble himself to wear a crown ; but in his
little Kingdom the little King has about as fine a time as any sovereign in
the world. ; Way H. W. F.





THE PALACE OF KING PAUL.

A QUEER MACHINE.

Frep pulled out from under the attic eaves, one day, a queer old
machine with two wooden wheels and a forked steel nose.

‘¢ What is it?’’ he asked his mamma, who came up the garret stairs
just then for a bag of herbs. ‘‘ Please, mamma, do tell me for what was
this queer old rattle-trap made? ”’

Fred’s mamma drew it into the light, and brushed away the dust and
cobwebs, but she could not guess what was the machine.
A QUEER MACHINE.

Here is a pen picture of it.

At one end of a plank, sixteen inches long, two wooden standards,
fifteen inches high, are set three inches apart.

A wooden wheel, the size of a tea-plate, and a smaller one above it,
connected by a band made from an old leather strap, whirl between the
standards when the larger wheel is turned by its axis — a wooden crank. _

A three-pronged steel nose shoots out through the left-hand standard
from the center of the top wheel, and stuck loosely into the slot of a stan-
dard was. a little hand shave, with a knife red with rust.

‘¢ Maybe it’s an old turning lathe, or a warping spool winder, or a shoe
peg machine,’’ Fred’s mamma. said, creaking the
warped wheels. ‘* We will carry it downstairs
and ask grandpapa.’’

‘That? Why, that is my old apple-parer,”’
grandpapa at once said when Fred held it
before his dim eyes. ‘‘ That is the first
apple-parer ever used in this
county, and I made it myself
from one I heard tell of way °
off in New York State.’’

Fred oiled the squeaking
wheels, and made straight the bent prongs, and scraped the rust from the
knife of the little shave.

Then grandpapa took a big apple and taught Fred how to pare it on
the queer old parer. He stuck the apple firm on the fork, and held the
shave in his left hand against the apple, while he turned the crank with
his right hand.

The apple whirled with the wheels, and if the shave had not been rust-
eaten, and if it had been held just right, and the apple had been sound
and round, the peeling might not have been gnawed off in uneven mouth-
fuls, as though a squirrel’s tooth had run around it.

Fred carried the old parer back to the attic, glad that he lives in these
times when parers are made to peel and core and slice an apple with a
twirl of its wheel.






GR ANDP APA’S APPLE-PARER.

Clarissa Potter.






































































FEEDING THE BIRDS.


A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
MARCH CHRISTMAS GIFTS.

TuERE were two of them and Georgina and Dolly liked to pretend that
all their presents belonged to some particular day.

One of the March arrivals really was a ae Christmas gift. It came
all the way from Michigan. _

The girls stood by their father while it was unboxed in the barn,
wondering what it could be.

It was mainly composed of a ‘‘curly-maple’’ board, two feet wide
and eight long, polished like glass. When ready for use it stood firmly,
slanted like an old-fashioned cellar door, and a little flight of four ee
hinged fast, led to the upper end.

The first thing Mr. Pettitt did, after he had adjusted it, was to seize
his daughters, put them on the board at the top of the flight of steps, and
let them spin down the whole eight feet to the barn floor. You should
have heard their screams, which became twice as deafening, when their
papa caught their slender mamma, and serv on her exactly the same
awful trick.

This new amusement was a parlor-toboggan slide, invented by a
Michigan mother who had noticed how boys and girls like to slide down
things. She had sent one of the handsomely made playthings to Georgina
and Dolly, and they and their small acquaintances had ‘‘ stacks of fun’’ with
it, especially when warm weather came, and it could be set. up on the lawn.

It arrived the morning of St. Patrick’s day, which chanced to be on
a Saturday, and it was put in the sitting-room where it helped to comfort
Dolly who had wished to go with Nora to see the parade.

Nora had talked to Dolly about the pleasure there is in parades,
parties and various other St. Patrick celebrations.

*¢ Will St. Packrick be there?’’ asked Dolly.

**Laudys!’’ said Nora, ‘‘St. Patrick was dead long enough hefore: I
was born mesilf.’’
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
‘‘Why, of course, Dolly,’’ said Georgina, who was listening, ‘‘ every-
body that has a day, has to be dead. Don’t you know — Washington,
and Decoration Day, and the men that made Fourth of July.’

‘¢That’s so,’’ said Dolly. ‘‘I never fought of that.’’

‘
‘¢ What is— being dead?’’ asked Georgina.

‘¢ Bliss me, no! Havin’ a day in honor of you,’’ Nora replied hastily.



DOLLY AND NORA TALK ABOUT THE PARADE.

‘Was St. Packrick good?’’ queried Dolly, who liked to be exact.

‘‘T should say so!’’ said Nora. ‘‘He killed ivery blissid snake in
Treland.’’

‘What is a blissid snake?’’ asked Dolly.

Nora, being a trifle puzzled, avoided an answer, by saying :

‘¢Now, if you don’t bother me wid my work, an’ your ma’ll let you,
mebbe I’ll take you to see the p’rade.”’

“Oh! can I? And Georgina?’’

But Georgina hastened to say: ‘Oh! I’m going to do something
different. Were there many snakes, Nora?’’
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
“* T’ousands,’’ answered Nora briefly.

‘¢ How'd he kill them?’’ asked Dolly.

‘How do I know?’’ returned Nora, rather impatiently. ‘‘ Didn’t. I
say he was dead long enough before I was born?’’

** Long enough for what?’’ asked Dolly.

Nora made no answer.

‘*T should think he would be dead,’’ said Georgina. ‘‘ Killing snakes
can’t be very healthy.’

As an amusement for Dolly, the parade did not meet the approval of
Mrs. Pettitt. So Dolly staid at home, and the toboggan-slide helped her
to forget her disappointment.

But, as if one Christmas gift was not enough
for March seventeenth, there came to the door,
soon after dinner, the driver of a big express-
wagon. In his hand was a package directed to
Georgina. Mrs. Pettitt let Georgina sign her
name in the expressman’s book, and they then
opened the box. For it was a box.

Both children jumped back when the contents
were exposed. ‘‘ What is it?’’. ‘‘Shut it up
quick!’’ ‘* Will it bite?’’ ‘* What’s sticking
out of its head?’’ ‘*Who sent it?’’ These
were a few of the questions and exclamations.

‘It can’t hurt you. It is a horned toad, and
I presume Edgar sent it,’’ said Mrs. Pettitt.

ee GH Cae ‘¢ He promised you one.”’

Edgar was second cousin to the children and
lived in California, and he had successfully sent a horned toad to New
York State.

The toad was a popular menagerie in the neighborhood for many days,
but as the children were afraid to care for it, and there was no very good
place for it, it was finally presented to the Y. M. C. A., as an addition to
its collection of small alligators, of lizards and the like.

Mrs. George Archibald,
Author of ‘* Lady Gay.”




JOLLY WINTER SPORT.
ALL ABOUT NUTS.

Tue King of the Nuts, so good to eat
For either the boys or Bunny,

Safe in a strong box kept his meat,
As misers do their money.

He never worked for his hoarded store,
Yet it grew and grew the season ;
Sun, dew and rain gave more and more,

Nor ever were asked the reason.

When autumn painted the green leaves brown,
Night winds to the branches creeping,
Rattled the nutty harvest down,
With the children soundly sleeping.

The King of the Nuts felt sad and sore,
And we thought we heard him crying, .
‘¢ Ah! I am robbed of all my store,
And what is the use of trying ! ”’

But when, at the firesides, merry bands
He saw roasting nuts with laughter,

His sorrow fled, he clapped his hands,
And was happy ever after.


THE FUNNY MUFF.

‘*Wuen I was a little girl,’ said Grandma, ‘‘ we had very cold
winters. I had to walk a long way to school, and often got very, very
cold— so cold that sometimes I cried because my hands ached so hard.

*¢ One bitter cold morning I was starting for school, and almost crying
because I dreaded the cold so much. I was dressed very warmly, but I
knew how cold my fingers would soon become. ‘I wish I had a muff,’
I sobbed.

‘¢*« Here, take this,’ said my mother, handing me a smoking hot
buckwheat cake right from the griddle. ‘This will keep your hands warm
better than any muff.’

‘¢T seized it eagerly, and almost all the way to school it kept my
hands warm. I ate a bit of it now and then, and finished it just as I
reached the schoolhouse door.

‘¢ After this, on cold mornings, I often took one or two large hot
buckwheat cakes to school with me, and thought that they made just the
nicest kind of muffs.’’ Lizzie Robinson.



MY LITTLE VALENTINE.
IN MARCH.—THE LITTLE POSTMAN.

IN MARCH.

Miss Sallie Lunn

Was given a bun,

And, better to enjoy,

She crept alone,

Like dog with bone,
Where no one could annoy.

When all around,
Without a sound,
A band of robbers gay,
With outstretched paw, -
And hungry jaw,
Did coax it all away ;
She had forgot the saying old :
‘* Shun woods in March when hares are bold.’’
. E. S. Tf.

THE LITTLE POSTMAN.

Brou is a small pug with a very black nose and a very curly tail; just
ugly enough to be admired for his ugliness. He used to be considered by
every one, except his mistress, a very stupid little fellow. He did not
like children, and was not at all playful. He spent most of his time
looking out of the window and barking at cats.

Now this story will show you how sadly he was eee and what.
a really intelligent, bright doggie he is.

His mistress was married and went to live in another house on the
same street, about five blocks away. She took Bijou with her, of course.
But the dog still liked his old home, and regularly every morning after
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THE LITTLE POSTMAN.

breakfast he went back there to make a visit, always returning to his new
home before dinner.

One day his mistress was sick and wished to send a message to her
mother. How could she send it? There was no one in the house but
herself. Suddenly she thought of Bijou’s daily visits to his old home.
Why might he not be her messenger? So she wrote a note, pinned it to
his harness and started him
off. In about half an hour
here came the little letter-
carrier trotting down the street
with another note pinned to
his harness. He begged to
be let in the house, and when
his mistress unpinned the note
—which was a reply to the
one she sent — and petted him,
he expressed his delight in BIJOU.
every way he could.

Since that day he has been a regular ‘idtoroouiee between the two
houses. After breakfast, when he gets ready to make his call, he
presents himself to his mistress and barks and begs until he gets his
letter. When she lets him out he starts off like a real postman, never
looking to the right or left nor stopping to play with the dogs he meets.

He always insists upon having a reply to his note—which is often
only a piece of white paper—and almost any morning one may see this |
cunning little Pug postman, trotting gravely along the street with his
letter. Alice Cowan.



A .irtte bird, like a bit of the blue,
Dropped down from the sky to sing ;
Blithely it sang, and the soft winds blew,
The warm rains fell, and the green grass grew,
And the children cried, ‘‘ ’Tis spring!”















































HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TRERE.
Il. — ALF IN TROUBLE.

I’ you could only have seen Alf coasting! He
had no more idea how to steer than a kitten,
but scraped both feet along the ground the
whole time. He would start at the top of
the hill and go down a little way, slewing
to this side and that, and then whirling round
and round like a top. By and by, over he
would go into the snow, slipping off the sled
like a rolly-poly ; but up he would pop again
as quick as a wink, flop himself down on the
sled and coast away, slewing and whirling
until the next tumble ; and so on to the bottom of the hill.

After a while his feet began to grow cold, and he complained to Bergit
that there were stones in his shoes that hurt him. He didn’t know that
it was only his own cold little toes that were hurting him.

However, Alf enjoyed himself very much indeed, in spite of all his
mishaps, and so did Bergit and Selma. They had forgotten all about the
threatened storm. Long before they noticed it, the air was white with
snowflakes.

““Oh!’’ said Alf, stopping at oe all out of breath, ‘‘ the snow is
getting down my neck.”’

‘“Why, it does snow!’’ exclaimed Bergit. ‘Did you ever see
anything like it? ’’

‘¢ And it is so cold, too; I am freezing,’’ said Selma. ‘Let us
hurry home as fast as we can. I do believe it is after supper-time
already.’’

‘Yes; let’s go home. I’m tired of coasting,’’ said Bergit.

‘Tm tired of coasting, too; and I wish I could get the stones out of
my shoes,’’ faltered Alf.


HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TREE.

‘*Hurry up, Alf! ’’ said Bergit, beginning to run.

‘< Yes, I will hurry,’’ said tired little Alf. <‘* Let me take hold of your
hand. Please, Bergit.’’
_ But Bergit had stuck both hands in her coat pockets to keep them
warm, and she pretended not to hear what he said.

Alf’s lip quivered, and Bergit heard him trotting faster and faster after
her as she continued to run.

‘¢ Make haste, if you want to see the Christmas-tree ! ’’ she called.



“ DON’T RUN AWAY FROM ME,’’ CRIED ALF.

Just then Alf slipped upon the frozen snow and fell. He got up as
soon as he could, and hurried forward, calling, ‘‘ O, Bergit, come back !
Wait for me! I want to tell you somefin’ nice, Bergit.’’

He could not see Bergit now, but he called out still again: ‘‘I will be
_ a good boy, Bergit. Oh! oh!. oh! Why doesn’t some one come after
Alf? ’’

. But no one came, and Alf began to be very cold.
Adapted from the Norwegian, by Laura E. Poulsson.


\ “ THE PYRAMID TABLEAU.

“A HAPPY FAMILY.

Ir is a mistake to suppose that wild animals can only be trained by
frightening them with clubs and red-hot irons. The famous Carl Hagen-
beck is the largest dealer in wild animals in the world. He recently -
exhibited a collection of them in Crystal Palace, England, which was the
best proof of what could be done by kindness and patience.

All in one cage there were two lions, two tigers, two leopards, two.
cheetahs, a black bear, a white bear, and two huge boar-hounds.

He brought them all up together, and called them his ‘‘ Happy Family.’’

They would walk about on rolling globes, ride tricycles, play seesaw,
draw one of the lions about in a coach while the hounds acted as footmen,
and do many other things, always closing the entertainment by making a
pyramid tableau, with the white bear on top, then the cheetahs, tigers
and leopards, while the lions lay on the floor; the black bear sat upright
between them and the hounds sat on either side. And the great trainer
accomplished it all by kindness. ; W. Hi.
‘|

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GOING A-SKATING.


‘€ JUST SUNSHINE ENOUGH TO BRIGHTEN UP EVERYTHING.”

NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
WHAT THEY FOUND OUT IN THE WOODS.

Tue Wentworth children were going a-Maying. In Nurse Powell’s
home in Cornwall, England, they make much of May-day, so she liked to
observe the custom.

Aunt Nell was visiting them, and she wanted to go to the woods with
Nurse Powell and the children, too.

There was a nice fresh breeze blowing, and just sunshine enough to
brighten up everything.

‘“You were a May Queen once, wasn’t you, Nursie?’’ Lillie asked,
as they walked along, ‘‘ and wore a crown.”’

“Yes, indeed,’’ said Nurse Powell, ‘‘ and a beautiful crown it was,

92

too.
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

<< What was it made of?’’ asked Robbie Wentworth.

‘« Flowers,’’ Nurse told him.

ss ee they have May-Queens now?’’ said Robbe ‘‘in England,
T mean.’

Robbie is a boy with true coe notions, and so sees little use for
queens; and as for crowned heads, he declares it is all nonsense. But
anything that made Nurse Powell happy interested him. And May
Queens, he reasoned, were very likely different from any other kind of a
queen.

‘TI guess they do,’’ she replied. ‘‘May-day is a gala day, in my
home. There are parades, and the children ride about in all sorts of
vehicles. The month of May belongs to the children, in my opinion,’’
added Nurse, ‘‘ but the old Romans believed it belonged to old men.’’

‘¢ T think it belongs to the children,’’ spoke up Lillie.

‘©So do I,’’ agreed Aunt Nell, who was leading Winnie Wentworth.
<¢ When I was no bigger than he is,’’ she said, looking down at her
nephew, ‘‘we children had a May-party, and I was chosen queen, and
wore a crown. Mrs. Livermore was visiting at my mother’s, then. Some
of us said we were going to learn Tennyson’s ‘ May-Queen’ by heart. But
Mrs. Livermore told us it was not proper to say we were going to learn
anything by heart. We should say instead, we were going to commit it
to memory.”’

<< You must remember that,’’ said Nurse Powell.

‘«The old Romans,’’ said Robbie, giving his head a nod, as much as
to say he would, ‘‘ were queer chaps.”’

‘¢ But all the same, they put some good notions into people’s heads,’’
said Nurse Powell.

Nurse liked to tell their Myth stories; the one about the Goddess
Mia, especially, for whom the month is named. Mia was the mother of
Mercury, and Nurse knew a good deal about her.

‘ Robbie, changing the subject.

“©Q, yes!’’ said Nurse, ‘‘ but he cared more about trees that had
been struck by lightning than he did for May flowers. or anything else
that was going on.
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

‘ about the children’s giant?’’ asked Nurse Powell, turning to Aunt Nell.

‘Yes, indeed; but I thought he was your giant, and not the chil-
dren’s,’’ said Aunt Nell.

‘¢ He’s everybody’s giant,’’ said Robbie. ‘‘ Electricity is his name.’

‘Roland found out that trees were more liable to be hit in the winter
than in summer,’’ said Nurse’ Powell.

Robbie wanted to know why.

‘ the old giant does not see fit to tell anybody, and very likely that is one
of them.’’

They were just in the edge of the woods. Nurse Powell said she was
glad of it, too, for Baby Wentworth was getting heavy.

‘« Something else he found out,’’ said Nurse, noticing the big trees
close beside them. ‘‘ Those with rounded leaves are more likely to be hit
than trees with pointed leaves.”’ :

‘‘T see through that,’’ said Aunt Nell. <‘‘The points of the leaves:
are conductors. They discharge the electricity.’’

Robbie and Lillie looked puzzled.

‘«Why, dears,’’ said Aunt Nell, ‘‘ certain kinds of wires are con-
ductors for electricity to travel through, you know. There are places over
which the-old giant will not walk. He likes the pointed leaves well
enough to touch them and then run off into the air or on to the ground.
But the rounded leaves do not have any place for his feet to stand on,
so he slips down against the tree, and then folks say it has been struck by
lightning.’”’

‘‘T must say that I think the old giant is a funny person to go
a-Maying,’’ remarked Nurse Powell, putting a handful of blossoms into
Baby Wentworth’s chubby little fist, ‘‘ and no mistake.’’

‘ said Aunt Nell, sitting down on a big rock, and beginning to weave her
blossoms and leaves into a pretty garland.

‘*T crown you Queen o’ the May,”’’ she said, fitting the flowers to
Lillie’s head.

Greta Bryar.
or

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Sk

E POWELL’

S.

-DAY IN NUR

May


A CURIOUS FLOOD-MARK.

‘

Away in the Old World there is a queer little town, up among the hills,

where we stopped over Sunday.
town and under an old stone bridge.

A. mountain stream dashes through the
Sometimes the river rises very high

and even floods the town. Years ago there was such a fearful freshet

that. it almost swept the
town away. On the old
church tower we saw a
marble slab, about thirty
feet above the ground, on
which was written, ‘‘ This
marble marks the height
of the great flood of 1859.’’
It was higher than the tops
of many of the chimneys,
and it seemed so strange
that we asked an old fellow
about it.

“©Q, yes!’’ he said.
‘‘That marks the height of
the flood, but the water did
not go so high as that. At
first the flood-mark was
down here, about five feet
above the street, but the
boys threw stones at it and



A QUEER LITTLE TOWN.

hurt it, and as it was a fine piece of marble, we voted to. put it higher
up on the tower, where they could not reach it.”’ Warren H. Frych.



Oh! what a breach of etiquette; when Nora tea has poured,
The Paris Doll should rise and sit with others round the board.










































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































i
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NORA HAS HER DOLLS TO TEA.
MY PUSSY’S ADVENTURES. — III.

‘Ir you are not tired of hearing about my Pussy, I will tell you of
another adventure that she had. : -

After she put her head in the tomato can Pussy gave us very little
trouble until one morning we heard her crying piteously. We looked
everywhere for her, but no Pussy could we find. All day we called and
called, and all we could hear were the same
cries that we listened to when first we missed
our unfortunate little cat.

At last, when evening
came Pussy’s young master
said he believed she was
somewhere about the furnace.

We all laughed at the
idea, and told him that such
a thing could not be possible.
He talked so much, however,
that the young man who had
befriended Pussy in all her
trouble, thought best to go
down cellar and look around.

When they were close to
the furnace, it seemed to
them that Pussy’s cries did
come from the bottom of it.

GETTING PUSSY OUT OF TROUBLE. ’ So there was nothing to.

do but tear away the bricks

and plaster around a brick air chamber, from the top of which was a
wooden air box. This air box had an opening outside the cellar wall.

The young man went to ‘work with a will, and before long, out walked
Pussy, no less glad to see us, than were we to catch sight of her.

It must have been that Pussy when she was out in the garden, walked


THE CASTLE-BOY.

into the wooden air box, and, not stopping to look ard she tumbled
into the brick air chamber.
But wisdom, you know, comes with age. As Pussy grows older we
hope she will learn to ‘‘ look before she leaps.’’
C. P. DL.

THE CASTLE-BOY.

In Spain papa says castles stand
On every hill-top in the land ;
I do not know where Spain may be,
Except that it’s across the sea ;
But sometimes when in bed I lie,
And not a star is in the sky,
I wish, while ‘‘ patter ’’ falls the rain,
I were a castle-boy in Spain.
Oh! I’d have every kind of toy
If I were but a castle-boy ;
I’d have a bicycle and gun,
A pony that could swiftly run,
A pretty boat to sail or row,
And if, in winter-time, the snow
Should fall, I’d have the finest sled,
And it should be all painted red.
I’d play and play the whole day through,
And have no work at all to do;
I’d have the nicest things to eat,
And love to give my friends a treat ;
I’d be like papa, if I could,
For he is always kind and good ;
I’d never cry, I’d not complain,
Were I a castle-boy in Spain.
Clinton Scollard.


SPRING BEAUTIES,

HUNTING EASTER EGGS IN GERMANY.

Tr you lived in Germany, on Easter morning you would be running
about the garden, hunting under the bushes, behind trees and in all sorts
of queer places, for pretty colored eggs which the hares, or rabbits, are
said to have brought there during the night.

Easter is a very important day in Germany.

It is looked forward to by the children with almost as much pleasure
as Christmas.

After breakfast the hunt for eggs begins, and it generally takes a
long time to find them; for hares are shy little creatures, as you know,
and the nests are always very carefully hidden away in the oddest
places. i

The children are apt to find the eggs in pretty baskets or boxes; and
sometimes they will come upon a beautiful white sugar hare sitting on a
mossy nest, filled with colored eggs.

Don’t you think the German hares are very clever?

Our Easter Eggs verses will tell the story of little gray Bunny better
than I can. I think the German children must be very happy on Easter
morning.
HUNTING EASTER EGGS IN GERMANY.

Easter eggs! Haster eggs! isn’t it funny ?
These all were laid by little gray Bunny. ©
Crimson and purple, green and bright yellow —
Ah! isn’t Bunny a clever fellow?

Why doesn’t Biddy lay colored eggs too?
Because if she did there would be so few.
She’d never find time to lay one every day,

If she stopped to mix colors to make them gay.

But Bunny lays eggs only once a year,
And that’s always on Easter morning, my dear ;
So he colors them brightly in rainbow hues —
Here are a dozen for you to choose.
Alice Cowan.



NOBLE FELLOWS, EVERY ONE,
A PICTURE OF INDUSTRY.

Loox on this picture, do, and see

A pattern sweet, of industry.

This little girl has had her play,
And learned her lessons for the day,
And carried Grandmamma a note,
And now she sews a petticoat.

She wears a thimble, bright and new,
Upon her tiny finger, too.

In basket and in needle-case

She keeps her little tools in place ;

For though she is so young, you know,
Mamma is teaching her to sew.

See how she pulls the needle through,
So each stitch may be smooth and true ;
For though the needle has an eye,

It could not see, if it should try,

The way to go; but, oh! the eyes

Of this sweet maid are wondrous wise.

And can you guess for whom she makes
This little petticoat, and takes
‘Such careful pains — the pretty witch —
With every seam and hem and stitch ?
Why, ’tis for Miss Malvina Grace —
Her doll with alabaster face.
Zitella Cocke.

)

eae


SEWING FOR MISS MALVINA GRACE.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
AN APRIL FOOL DAY.

‘‘Then can’t we do any;
fing ?’’ asked Dolly.

** You can do a good many
things,’’ her mother replied. |

‘* But we can’t tie up fool-
ing fings in paper and put them
on the sidewalk, and _ hollo ~
‘April fool’ to whoever picks
them up, same as Gershom
Brown said he did.’’

‘“*No, my dear. That sort
of April fooling isn’t nice for
my little girls. Your mamma
doesn’t approve of fun that
ali erase makes somebody feel bad.’’

THEY SEE HAROLD Cotte: «Will it be any hurt when

Georgina comes home from

school to say, ‘ Guess who’s been here,’ and when she can’t, to say
¢ April ‘fool?’ ’? asked Dollie.

‘«¢Not a bit,’? answered Mrs. Pettitt, and then looking out of the
window, she exclaimed, ‘‘ Guess who’s coming? ’’

‘¢Nobody,’’ said Dolly. ‘‘ You can’t April fool me.”’

Mrs. Pettitt laughed, and just then the sound of boyish feet on the
steps outside made Dolly run to see who it was. What was her joy to
see Harold Duane, who had run ahead of Cousin Angie.

Harold was cousin to Angie, and Angie was a young lady cousin to
Dolly and Georgina, and that made Harold seem like relation, too.

<©Q, Harold! I’m so glad you came,’’ cried Dolly.

<‘Tho’m I,’’ answered Harold, who was only five and lisped. He


A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

pulled off his little overcoat, and revealed a cunning, black velvet suit,
with a wide collar at his neck. Dolly regarded him admiringly.

‘*Sit down in my little rocker,’’? she said. ‘‘ You must be tired.
It’s a good ways to come.’’

‘¢ Yeth, it ith a good wayths,’’ said Harold. <‘‘ But it ithn’t tho far
ath it wath the firth time I came.’” ie

‘
_** Tt is, really,’ answered Mrs. Pettitt; ‘‘only it seems farther the
first time we take a long walk, than it does when we take the same walk
soon again.’’

‘Does it?’’ said Dolly. ‘‘Then we wouldn’t get so tired, if we
didn’t go anywhere till after we had been before, would we?’’

Mrs. Pettitt smiled and said that was a pretty hard question, and she
thought they would better play something.

So they played fish-pond, catching very large pasteboard fish, an inch
and a half long. They played checkers, too, and when their men were
nearly all jumped, they changed the game to ‘‘ Give-away,’’ so they
would not be so badly beaten. After that they went out-of-doors to play
with a big kite which Mr. Pettitt had made for Dolly and Georgina.
They carried it between them and then Dolly held it while Harold took
the string and tried to start it by running. But they only succeeded in
dragging it on the ground. This was partly because neither of them
knew how to manage a kite, and partly because there was not a bit of
wind., They tried a good many times, then went back into the house.

** Well, did you have a nice time? ’’ asked Mrs. Pettitt.

‘* We had a pretty nice time,’’ answered Dolly, ‘‘and we would have
had a splendid time, only we couldn’t either of us shoot off the kite at all.’’

Dolly always told about shooting off a kite, and oe off a kite, as if
it were a fire-cracker.

‘* It is too still to fly a kite,’’ said Mrs. Pettitt. «*I think it is going
to snow.’’

**Oh! do you?’’ cried Dolly. ‘“< Isn’t that too bad.’’

‘* Why, don’t you like thnow?’’ asked Harold.

‘* In the winter I do, but in the spring I don’t, and now it’s spring,’”’
answered Dolly.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

«¢ A snow-storm would be a real mean April fool, to-day, wouldn’t it,
Dolly?’’ asked Angie.

‘< Yes, it would,’’ said Dolly.

<< Well, I like thnow all the time,’’ said Harold, in his droll, slow
little way. ‘‘I like to throw thnow-ballth. Thay, Dolly, did you ever
kill a grath-hopper, with a thnow-ball?’’

‘¢No,’’ replied Dolly. ‘‘ Did you?”’

‘* No, I didn’t,’’ answered Harold. ‘‘ But I withe I did.’’

It was not very long after Harold went home, before Georgina came,
and she had plenty of things to tell about the April fool tricks that had

Se
‘ —~— _G



HAROLD AND DOLLY HAVE A GAME OF CHECKERS.

come under her observation. She talked about them so much that she
and Dolly were much longer than usual eating dinner. After dinner they
followed their mother into the sitting-room, and Georgina said, ‘‘ Did ever
anything much happen on April-fool’s day when you were little?’

‘¢ Why, once,’’ said Mrs. Pettitt, ‘‘ something happened that seemed
a good deal to us. My mother told my little sister that she might go and
play an hour with another girl who lived on the corner below us.”’

‘* How old was your sister? ’’ asked Dolly.

‘* She was six. After she had been gone an hour and a half I was
sent after her, and she was not there and had not been there.’’

“©O, my!’ exclaimed Georgina. ‘* What did you do?’’

“*T went back and told my mother, and we all immediately began to
ON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE.
search. But not a trace of her could we get. Then my father was sent
for, and he dragged the cistern with an awfully worried look on his face.
Finally he started out to get the village crier to ery ‘lost child.’ ’’

‘* How do they do that?’’ asked Dolly.

“‘Years ago, and perhaps yet in small places, a man used to go
through the streets, ringing a bell and calling out ‘ Lost child, lost child!’
and then he would shout a description of the child. It sounds very sad,
indeed. It did to us when we heard it that day. He came straight
by our house, and every one ran out to see and hear. Our next-door
neighbors who knew nothing about it ran out, and among their children
was my white-headed sister, who came rushing home in great excitement
to tell us somebody’s little girl was lost.’’

““O, suds! Did she truly?’’ said Dolly.

‘* Of course she did truly, or mamma wouldn’t tell it,’’ said Georgina.

‘* Yes, it is true,’’ said Mrs. Pettitt. ‘‘ And she was very innocent,
only that she had forgotten herself in her play and overstaid her time.
The next-door neighbor’s name was Hoskin, and the people on the corner
were named Hodgkin, and she had misunderstood her permission, and in ~
our fright we never thought about inquiring next door. You may be sure
we were pretty happy at the way it turned out.’’

‘* Well, it was a good April fool as far as being fooled goes, but it

must have been quite discomfortable,’’ said Georgina.
Mrs. George Archibald.

ON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE.

Tue real heart of Fairy-land and the home of fairy lore lies on the
banks of the River Rhine. Fairy tales almost all come from there, and the
little men and women living on the Rhine are so much like the little peo-
ple in the fairy tales that one can hardly tell which is which, or help
believing that fairy stories are true.

I know a little maid living upon the banks of the Rhine. ..She was
only six years old when I een her best, and as quaint a little lady as ever
\

ON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE.

moved in marchen wonders. Her name is Snipschen. It is not her real
name, I am sure, but whenever I asked her she always replied, ‘‘Snipschen,
mein Frau.’’? Wer home is just across the river. from a great city, with
a cathedral and a royal palace in plain view, but Snipschen was not at all
like a city girl. I don’t think she ever went to the city except on market
days, when her father, who was a fisherman, carried over all the fish he
could catch, to sell in the public market.

Then she got into the row-boat beside him, all dressed in her Sunday-
best; with her thick wooden shoes that had been washed and scoured till
they fairly shone, and with stockings on — for Snipschen never wore stock-
ings except on Sundays and market days — with a curious, tucked-up dress
that made her look the veriest little old lady, and a hood that tried in vain
to control her curling brown hair. She would brace one foot upon the side
of the boat and tug and push on one of the oars, while her blue eyes
danced for joy, though both of her little hands, together, could not have
reached around the oar.

Snipschen’s mother did washing for Seals in the city, and that was
where I met her, first. I used often to see her when I took a walk upon
the river bank, opposite the city. The women all take the clothes they
have to wash down to the river, and there they scrub all day, with plenty
of fresh water at hand, and spread the clothes on the bank to dry.

I began by watching Snipschen trudging up and down from the water,
taking the clothes, as fast as her mother washed them, and spreading them
out to dry. She had no hood and no stockings on, those days. That was
when I asked her what her name was.

One day I found her sitting all by herself in a quiet spot, looking
earmestly into the water. I asked her if anything was the matter, and
she replied, ‘‘ I’m only just waiting for the fairies to come and tell me
something that I want to know.’’

I thought that perhaps I could tell her, so I said, ‘‘ See if I can’t be
a fairy. What is it you want to know?’’

She looked up, and said, ‘‘ Why are the roses red, and why is the
heaven blue? ’’

I did not try to answer her, for, to tell the truth, I should like very
~ much to know myself. Sally Thorndike.






































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































on sbi 5

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WASHING CLOTHES ON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE.
Nee Qi! Niners.

ll
yu Mot yg







Hi Mavame Hottypock keeps a
a store
Under the garden wall ;
She has crimson silk, and yel-
low, and white,
And pink for those who call.

And oh! such pretty bonnets and capes
As we make, all together —
Sally, Molly, Hattie and I —

In the pleasant summer weather.
M. F. B.

NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
A VISIT TO THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

Every now and then Robbie Wentworth would complain that Nurse
Powell did not tell them enough about the old giant Electricity.

Children’s Evening she expected to tell a story. But Robbie had an
idea that Nurse Powell ought to take special pains to find out all she could
in regard to the old giant, and then inform him of her knowledge.

‘“‘I might spend every spare moment of my time,’’ declared Nurse,

‘‘and then you are so greedy I believe you would allow me to neglect my
duties, Robbie Wentworth ; and pa you know, would be a sin.’’
NURSE POWELLS GIANT.

You see Nurse had strict notions in regard to duty.

‘¢T might tell you about St. Catherine’s Lighthouse,’’ she said, sitting
still for a minute or so, and wondering what else there was to tell Robbie
about the old giant. ‘‘ My brother Roland and I went there once.’’

‘You didn’t see anything of the old giant, did you?’’ asked Robbie.

«
Nurse Powell, you remember, was an Englishwoman, idle so thought
no more of a trip to the Isle of Wight and St. Catherine’s Downs than
. you would of guving to Niagara Falls, or the White
Mountains or the Adirondacks.

‘¢ Years and years ago,’’ began Nurse, ‘‘ there used
to be a lighthouse on the very top of St. Catherine’s
Down. A devout knight built it. He provided an en-
dowment for a priest, whose duty it was to chant
masses, and keep a light burning at night, for the
benefit of passing mariners. But the mists were so
heavy, at the top of the hill, they moved the light-
house down a piece, so to avoid the fogs rolling off the
Downs.

‘‘They put up a tower of die wore and fixed a
strong glass frame about twelve feet high, on the top of
it; this was to hold and protect the lantern. The lamp
had six wick burners. It was fed with mineral oil, and



A POWERFUL ELECTRIC . 5
uIGHT: it gave as much light as seven hundred and forty can-

dles would, all burning.’’
‘¢Whickety!’’ exclaimed Robbie. <‘‘It must have been a buster.’’

9?

‘As I said, there are heavy fogs at St. Catherine’s,’’ continued
Nurse Powell, paying no attention to Robbie’s comment. ‘‘ They shut
out the light, and so make it of little use to sailors. So after a while this
oil lamp was taken down, and now at St. Catherine’s there is the most
powerful electric light in the world.’’

‘How many candles would they have to burn to make a light as
bright as it is?’’ asked Lillie Wentworth.

‘¢Three million; and every one of them burning as bright as day.’’

‘¢ Why, Nurse Powell! ’’ cried Robbie Wentworth.
NURSE POWELLS GIANT.

<¢Truth,’’ declared Nurse; ‘‘ just what I’m telling you.”’

‘ mused Robbie.

‘ The flash from the lantern on top of St. Catherine’s is worth going to the
Isle of Wight to see.’’

‘© You didn’t speak of the flash-light before,’’ said Robbie, becoming
excited over Nurse’s account of all she saw on her visit that she hadn’t




before thought worth while to mention
to the Wentworth children.

<¢T can’t tell everything at once,
dear,’’ she told him. ‘‘ There are
three lamps, but only one is used at a
time. It is the lantern that gives out the flash. Ona bright night you
can see it forty miles away. At the Needles—that’s twelve miles off —
you can see to read by it.

‘¢T wish you might hear the fog-horn, children,’’ becoming excited >
herself as she talked on. ‘‘The syren is the name of it. The old
giant blows his breath into the engines, as you tell about, Robbie, and
they work the dynamos, so my brother Roland explained,’’ laughed
Nurse Powell, amused at the amount of knowledge she was able to
call up on this occasion, ‘‘ and drive the compressors, for sounding the
fog-horn.

A SIGHT WORTH SEEING.
* NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

‘ And it can be started at a moment’s notice. It goes itself—just the
same as a clock runs after it is wound up. The syren runs for six hours,
and gives two powerful blasts every minute.

‘*Something like this: Whew-ew-ew-ew,’’ trying to imitate the
sound, one high, and one low,
which once heard is never to be
forgotten.

‘*H’m!’? mused Robbie.
For he could not think of any-

thing to say, it was all so
wonderful.
«Visitors go and stand below
St. Catherine’s,’’ said Nurse
Powell, speaking in so impressive
amanner, that the children them-
selves almost fancied they could
see the brilliant beams of light
reaching to the horizon in every
direction, as Nurse Powell went
on with her description; ‘‘ but
as pretty a sight as anything you
can imagine, is to watch the
moths float along towards this
light. Some nights they come
in such swarms that the light-
keepers are obliged to sweep
them off the glass, or else they
would shut out the light alto-
gether. And the birds come, too. Flying along as if they thought they
were going to their nests, I tell you, children, it was a beautiful sight.’’
*«That’s the best story you ever told, Nurse Powell,’’ said Robbie.
** You must think of something else about the old giant; s’pose you can
remember anything as good as this?’’
“«T don’t know,’’ replied Nurse. Greta Bryar.



THE LANTERN,
THE FLAMINGO AT HOME.

We had been upon the desert

for thirteen days when we reached
the river. Even the camels seemed
to appreciate the change. Tall
rushes, ten or fifteen feet high, grew
so thick upon the bank that we
could only gain a glimpse, here and
there, of the water. Just before
sunset, however, I found a dilapi-
dated dinghy lying among the reeds.
A dinghy is a boat used in the Kast
‘Indies. It was hardly capable of
holding me, but I balanced myself
carefully, and pushed out upon the
river. Beautiful birds were every-
where, and as I rounded a bend I
suddenly came upon a nook among
the great rushes where for the first
time I saw the flamingo at home.
A tall male flamingo was quietly eating supper. He did not mind me and
my dinghy and I came quite close to him.

He was standing on one long leg, in the water, moving the other foot
slowly back and forth along the bottom and carefully watching it. Pretty
soon he drew it up, with a lizard clinging to his toe. A moment later he

.had the lizard in his long, hooked beak. He was actually fishing.

A little farther off two females were sitting on nests which they had
built of sticks and mud, till they looked like the stumps of large trees ris-
ing out of the water. On the very top they arrange some grass and leaves
and there lay their eggs, resting with their long legs dangling on either side,
and their long necks twisted so that their heads hang over their backs.

Warren H. Frych.



WRERE THE FLAMINGO LIVES.
DHARER THAN DOLLY.



A BABY IS BETTER THAN A DOLLY.

DEARER THAN DOLLY.

My dolls have been alone a week,
Even two weeks, maybe — —
For in the crib in mamma’s room

There is a sweet new baby.
‘THE LITTLE WISHBONE GIRL.

She has pink feet as soft as silk;
And ten wee bits of toes —

Dear little fingers curled up tight,
And a funny little nose.

So many times a day I run
To see my darling sister.
Mamma and Nursie laugh at me,
So often I have kissed her.
I long to see the tiny feet
Go walking pit-a-pat ;
I long to hear the baby talk —
No dolly can do that.
; Mrs. M. F. Butis.

THE LITTLE WISHBONE GIRL.

Poor little Jack had been lonesome all the long Sunday morning, for
everybody had gone to church but himself'and Ellen, and Ellen was busy
getting the dinner. How glad he was when Aunt Nell came home to
dinner with papa and mamma from church!

“* Well, Jack,’’ said Aunt Nell, ‘* how are you? ’’

‘* Qh! I’se so ‘lonesmum;’ I haven’t anybody to play with.’’

But he was very happy till dinner was served, for Aunt Nell read the
new number of Our Lrrrzr Men anp Women over to him three times.

At dinner Aunt Nell said to Jack’s papa, ‘‘ Now, George, give Jack
the wishbone. He must keep it and‘after dinner P’ll show him what to
do with it.’’

After dinner Aunt Nell rolled the library sien along to the door into
the hall, and taking Jack’s wishbone she climbed to the top Step and hung
it over the door. :

‘* Now, Jack,’’ said she, ‘‘ when I was a little girl, I used to hang
THE LITTLE WISHBONE GIRL.

\

the wishbone over the door and then the first little boy that walked under
was going to be my playmate forever.’’

You may be sure Jack watched that wishbone very anxiously. Day
after day went by, but no little ‘‘ forever playmate ’’ came. To be sure
little girls came with their mammas to call and sometimes they stayed and
played all the afternoon, but they
were sure to go away when it
began to get dark.

In the spring Jack went to visit
his grandmamma. out in the coun-
try, and oh! such a good time as
he had. He wasn’t ‘‘ lonesmum ”’
there, with chickens and cats and
the colored cook’s little darky chil-
dren to play with. For it was
down in old Virginia.

By and by papa came after
him. He was sorry to go, but felt
better when papa told him there
was a surprise for him at home,

When they reached home Jack
ran into the library to find mamma,
but she wasn’t there. He looked
up at the wishbone and said, ‘I
guess that was no account.”’

j : - Just then a tall lady, with a

AUNT NELL. white apron and cap on came walk-

ing in with a bundle in her arms.

foWell, little Jack, ’? said the tall lady, ‘‘I’ve heard all about the

wishbone, and here is a dear little sister that’s come to be a ‘ forever
playmate.’ ’”’

When Jack went up to see mamma he gave her a big Hee and told her
he was glad to get home. Then he said, ‘‘I think the wishbone girl’s
pretty small and red, but I guess she’ll grow.’’

Nellie Nelson Amsden.


IN THE POND.

*¢Q, motuEr,’’ sobbed a baby frog,
I’ve met with such a loss!

Must I go hide me in the bog?
I fear you will be cross.

‘« The rudder of my craft fell off,
But where I do not know,

The naughty lobster children scoff,
I wobble as I go.”’

Frog mamma croaked and swam to shore ==
‘* Comfort your little heart,

If ever tadpole would be more,
He from his tail must part.’’

Another day some tiny pegs
He showed, and scared was he-
‘*O ma, I’m awful sure that legs
Are growing out of me.’’

** Well, well, my child,’’ laughed Mamma Frog,
«« And when those legs are grown —

Hey ! they'll be leaping off a log,
As here you see my own.”’

Then this young frog set up a song,
His ways to regulate —
“¢ Remember, things that seem all wrong
Come right, if we but wait.’’
Lavinia S. Goodwin,
A BIG GRAY WOLF.

(A True Story.)

In the cold winter of 1863, when
I was a little girl, I made a visit to
friends who lived on a farm five
miles from my home in a town in
Iowa. Between the farms and the
village there were two miles of un-
broken prairie. A long white road
wound its way over this, and near
the river on the hillside beyond,
another road led through the woods.
For weeks the farmers did not- leave
their homes ; and often in the night
they would be kept awake by the
cry of the coyote, or prairie wolf.

I had been shut in by a big snow
drift, two weeks, and was homesick.

‘*'When the roads are broken I
will take you home,”’ said Mr. White.

“** How long will that be?’’ I
asked, with tears in my eyes.

‘¢ About day after to-morrow.”’

‘ asked Mrs. White.

“* Only for foot travelers, and the _
snow is waist-deep on each side.’’

“©Oh! I can walk.’’ I coaxed until I won their consent, and at
nine o’clock, warmly dressed, I started.

Mr. White went with me a mile.

** You will be all right now,’’ he said, as he left me on the brow of the



‘*GO HOME, SIR; YOU GO HOME.”’
HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TREE.

hill where the road branched off te the timber. ‘‘ There’s a house half
a mile away, stop and rest there.’ :

I started down the hill, at the foot of which was a plum thicket,
and soon saw what I thought to be a large dog. The creature gazed
straight at me, then all at once rose up, and opening its mouth took
several steps in my direction.

Terribly frightened, I saw it was a ‘‘ timber wolf.’’ I knew if I ran,
it would be upon me. , Trying to seem brave I picked up a stick about four
feet long and as thick as my wrist, and ran toward him, shouting ‘‘ Go
home, sir; you go home; ’’ and stamped my foot and shook my club.

He turned and bounded toward the woods, not once looking back.
I trembled with fear, but the thought that he might return gave me new
life, and I ran like a deer until I reached the log house. A party of men
soon found and shot the wolf.

Mrs. S. C. Hazlett-Bevis. -

HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TRER.
I. — PETER’S BUNDLE.

FTER Bergit had said good-night to Selma,
she hastened on, and before long had reached
her own home. As soon, as she opened the
door her mother saw that Alf was not with her,
and called out: ‘‘ Why, Bergit! where is
VES tee

‘Oh! he’s all right. Hewill come in a
minute. He was so slow we couldn’t wait for
him.’’

Bergit’s mother gave her one swift look of
agonized reproach, and rushed out to search ~
for the forsaken boy. Big Peter followed
immediately without a word. The supper


HOW BERGIT FORGOT HER CHRISTMAS-TREE.

stood untouched upon the table, and the fire was almost out in the high
porcelain stove. Grandmother sat before the fire trying to knit, but she
soon gave it up.

‘Crouched in the farthest corner some one sat in a heap upon the floor.
‘It was Bergit. She had not said a
word since her mother went out.
More than once she had-tried to say
to her grandmother: ‘‘ 0, Grand-
mother! do you think they will find
him? Will Alf freeze to death? ”’

‘*Hist!’’ said Grandmother
suddenly. ‘‘ What is that? ’’

It was the clicking of the garden
gate. Next, the outside door was
hastily opened, and Peter’s step
was heard in the entry; then

Peter’s voice and the mother’s 4 tn ff | |
— but no other. i ps hee: ly

























In they came, covered with
snow. Peter had a bundle in his | - =
arms; and it, too, was covered with
snow. It lay very quiet.

Why did Bergit, crouched in =
her corner, act so strangely now?
She turned completely around with
her face to the wall, and held her Poxeaee
hands tight before her eyes. She PETER BRINGS IN THE BUNDLE.

_ said afterwards that she had not dared to look. But all at once the
bundle raised itself up in Peter’s arms.

‘JT want some supper, please,’’ said a voice which was unmistakably
Alf’s.

And that is how it happened that Bergit forgot all about her Christ-
mas-tree. She had not thought of it once during the whole evening.

But it was just as good for the next night.

Adapted from the Norwegian, by Laura E. Poulsson.
















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NIGHT AND MORNING.

Not a real fight, you know,
But a pillow fight, though
It sometimes gets real, sure enough ;
Then the pillow case tears,
And we both say our prayers —
Mamma should get heavier stuff.

A scrimmage about,

The light putting out —
It’s usually I that does that.

I pop into bed ;

Ted stands on his head,
Just like a real show acrobat.

He’s too droll by half —
We laugh and we laugh
Till we hear papa‘s voice down below :
“¢ Less noise there, boys, boys !.
Do you hear me? less noise ; ”’
And for fear there’ll be trouble, you know,

We lie very still,
And know nothing till
Dear mamma wakes us up with a, kiss.
More buttons and strings
And garters and things —
Will there always be bother like this?

C. Leech,

hS £4
——————— A

Gs
THE LITTLE RED MAN.

ADRIENNE was eating her breakfast, and she was not eat-
ing nicely at all. She took too large mouthfuls, and too
many of them. So mamma said, ‘‘ Let us play a new game,
Adrienne.’’ i

They played that Adrienne’s mouth was a little red door,
which must be opened and closed very carefully, or it ould
squeak on its hinges.

‘« Nothing is more unpleasant than a squeaky door,”? said mamma,

‘«' This little red door opens into a little red hall leading out into a
little red lane, at the foot of which is a little red house.

‘« And what do you think? In the little red house lives a little red
man, whose name is Little Digestion.

‘* And what do you suppose he lives there for ?

‘* Well, just on purpose to grind up, in his little red mill, every single
thing that Adrienne sends down to him. Think of that!

‘* And when it is well ground, nice and fine, Little Digestion sends it
all over the queer little country in which he lives. And all his funny
little people (he is king, don’t you see?) make use of it to grow, and
keep strong. So the two small masters called Feet, who are twins, grow
quick and nimble; and tiny Miss Hands grow strong, and ‘Adrienne: S
whole body keeps healthy and comfortable for her to live in.’’

‘* Hands are twins, too, mamma,’’ interrupted Adrienne excitedly,
“* an’ eyes, an’ ears, an’ nose —o-h! ”’

Then after a crestfallen pause, ‘‘ Nowe can’t be twins with mouth,’’

she decides. ‘* Please go on, mamma.’
But at this point doggie Bingo lays a paw upon the table-cloth.

‘“No, Bingo; you mus’n’t ’fere with us; we’s busy. Sides, you hasn’t
any Little Digestion ; you’s only a doggie. He’ll be good now, mamma.’’
So the game is resumed. ‘‘The little red man is a pretty hard
worker, and he does not often fret or cry, because he thinks there is too
much work to do. Yet there is always a great deal of grist piled up ready


THE LITTLE RED MAN.

for his little mill; for Adrienne is a happy, active little girl, and it takes
a great many bowls of bread and milk to keep her running about.

‘But he grinds and grinds away, and sings to himself silent littie
songs in his own language, and is very quiet and contented, and never
makes any trouble as long as Adrienne is good to him.’’

‘“
*¢ No, you don’t want him hurt ; but you forget what a little fellow he
is, and that he cannot do too much hard work all at once. At first he
only grumbles a little, then he tries to call out that his mill is too small for —
such large pieces, and that they make him tired. Mamma, notices that
he does not like it, and tells Adrienne; but Adrienne will not heed, but
keeps right on hurrying him, till at last the poor little fellow gets all dis-
couraged and out of temper.

‘¢Then he just stops grinding, throws himself down, rolls over and
over —and kicks. How his little feet do fly! And about this time
Adrienne opens the hall door, and lo! a great noise, like a roar, comes
out, and mamma hears a cry — ‘O-h! my stummut ates!’

‘*< Aches, does it? Very good. That means that there is a lesson for

Adrienne to learn. Every ache means a lesson to learn. This one means’ -

that ble girls must act like lady-girls at the ae and not like little
pigs.’

‘« Boys, too?’’? murmurs Adrienne.

‘Yes ; boys, too. And it means that little boys and girls must learn
that mamma knows best, and that they must mind quickly, if they do not
want aches.’’ _

‘What does he do,’’ asks Adrienne, ‘‘ when I drinks milk?) Oh! I
know. He has a little red cup, an’ when he sees the a a-pourin’
down, he grabs his cup, an’ runs, an’ catches it-in his cup.’

‘«T shouldn’t wonder. He is a pretty nice little man, after all, and
you must be very careful to treat him well. Now see what little, tiny
bits you can send him. And just try to make that double row of little
bone soldiers in the red hall help out the patient little red man. They
can chop up the bits very small indeed, and that will give Little Digestion
such help that he will be quite rested, and it will be a long time again
before he gets tired, and begins to kick.’’ Florence E. D. Muzzy.
‘¢WE FOUR.”’

Our in the street Jack found, one day,
_An old umbrella, thrown away.

‘* Better than nothing,’’ he merrily said,

As a cloud sent its raindrops down on his head.
Along came Bob. ‘‘ Any lodgings to let? ’’

«¢ Yes,’’ laughed Jack ; ‘‘ come in out of the wet.’’
Then Will came up with a ‘‘ Halloo, boys!

What’s the occasion for all this noise ?”’

‘« Come along in,’’ said Jack, ‘‘ an’ see! ”’

So the old umbrella gave shelter to three.

And last of all, as they laughed together,

A doggie, who hated such rainy weather,

Came slinking by with his tail drawn in,

And a very uncomfortable soaking skin.

‘¢ Come in with the rest of us, do,’’ cried Will;
And doggie wagged a grateful ‘
‘‘ There, now,’’ laughed Jack, <‘ we’re fixed, we four,

An’ there isn’t any lodgings to let for more.’’
Mary D. Brine.



ON THE WING.






























‘“ THERE ISN'T ROOM FOR ANY MORE.”


THE WORK-BENCH.

HOW LITTLE GRANDMOTHER’S SHOES WERE MADE.

‘¢ Bur, Grandmamma,”’ said little May, holding up the tiny pair of
calfskins, ‘‘ were these your very bestest shoes? . Didn’t you have any
shiny black ones, with a tassel on, like mine ?

«¢ And where did you buy them, Grandmamma? Did Columbus bring
them with him, in his ship? ”’

<¢ What notions the child does get,’’ laughed Grandmamma. ‘‘ She hears
so much about Columbus nowadays, that
she thinks he did everything.

““No, dearie ; Columbus didn’t bring
Grandmamma’s shoes over. He sailed
away to England again, many hundreds
of years before these little shoes were
made.

‘¢ Bring your chair and sit down by
me and I will tell you all about these little worn-out shoes of mine. ©

«¢ When I was a little girl,’’ began Grandmamma, ‘‘ people did not



THE TINY PAIR OF CALFSKINS.
HOW LITTLE GRANDMOTHER'S SHOES WERE MADE.

wear shoes all the time. They went barefoot in summer, except when
they were dressed up. One pair of shoes was expected to last a whole:
year. When we went to church, we i
used to go barefoot, carrying our shoes lL i,
‘in our hands till we reached the brook Tl a
at the foot of the hill. Then we lh
washed our feet and put on our | x;







we
shoes. So they did not wear out “al
very fast; and if one of the chil- ~ hil
dren lost his shoe, as you did the | |
other day, he had to go ee
barefoot till the shoe man =e
came again.”’
-*©Q, dear!’’ sighed
’ May, ‘Show dreadful ! Sara
But who was the shoe man, JABEZ BROWN.—- THE SHOE MAN.
Grandmamma, and when did he come? Tell me all. about it, please.’’
‘¢The shoe man,’’ Grandmamma said, ‘‘ was a very important man in
our time ; and shoe week was a great week for the children.
ne : Every family kept an old shoe bench; and I can remember just what,
a stir there was all over the house when my
father came in and said, ‘ Wife, Jabez Brown
will be here to-morrow.’ . -
‘¢The shoe bench was brought down from
the attic to a warm corner of the:
kitchen, the favorite lasts were
. brought out, and we children
= Bit! Ki Z# talked about the new shoes
till we fell asleep.

}
t









SOME OF HIS WORK.
HOW LITTLE GRANDMOTHERS SHOES WERE MADE.

‘‘ Karly in the morning the old man would appear, trudging up the
road with his bag of tools, lasts and leather on his SS and by nine
o’clock he was seated on his bench hard
at work. ;

‘‘We children used to sit on the
floor beside him, watching him as he
measured and cut out the shoe, just as
mamma does a dress.

‘¢ After the shoe was cut, the shoe
man carefully fitted it on to the last.
Hach of us children had a last of our
own. Just as you have patterns for
your dollie’s clothes. And just as
mamma has patterns when she cuts ..
out your dresses. Then the shoe man:
punched holes with his sharp little awl,
all along the edges of the leather, and
the shoe was ready to sew.

‘* For his sewing, he used a waxed
end. A waxed end is a long linen
thread with pig’s bristles fastened in
at each end for needles. And all day
long the shoe man would sit there,
thrusting the two needles into the holes, as you would lace a shoe, and
drawing them out with a jerk, till the shoe was sewed so firmly that the |
stitches lasted till the leather wore out.

‘¢ When the snees were finished, he packed his bag and said good-by
for another year.’

‘* How nice it must have been, Grandmamma,’’ said little May.

Grace Brownell Peck.





rece Brow gall Peck,

LITTLE GRANDMOTHER,



Stoce row ell Pork.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
ARBOR DAY.

es ae LEH never dreamed = of
having an Arbor Day
until after dinner. So it
was really half gone be-
fore it began. It had
been one of the days
when no play was any
_ fun except a very few
minutes at a time. _Some-
thing was the matter with
all the dolls. If they did
not leak sawdust, their
arms were off, or their wigs were shed, leaving them homely and shining
on top of their bisque heads. The end of Julia’s nose was worn through,
and the blonde doll had broken her stomach in a way that entirely spoiled
the set of her dresses.
_ The paper dolls were not a bit more encouraging. _ There were over
two hundred, counting those cut from colored fashion plates. When Dolly
began to sort the store dolls from among them, and the best of the ‘‘ cut-
» outs,’’ she became’ nervous with only handling them, and seeing how
limpsy their legs and necks were. And as for the toboggan slide, they
disagreed about a word until they forgot that they could have had a good
time with that.
When the slide came into her mind, Dolly had said: ‘‘ We might
tobog a little while.’’
And Georgina had replied: ‘‘It isn’t tobog, Dolly; it is toboggan.
We might toboggan a little while.’’
And Dolly had persisted: ‘‘No. It is a toboggan itself, and you
tobog on it.”’


A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

And in settling this question they did as many settlers of other ques-
tions have done. Lach tried to convince the other, and in the end stood
exactly as when they began. ,

After dinner they went out-of-doors, and there it occurred to Geor-
gina that they might have an Arbor Day. The day before had been the
truly Arbor Day, and Georgina had taken part in the school exercises.
Also, Dolly had gone with her mamma to witness them. Why shouldn’t
they have an Arbor Day all by themselves? Why, it was the very thing.



eer sind Mn ir
Bs Pm) en lite
Mer 7 villians
wl.

A “ti Auer aut
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1



Wigildente Mom

GETTING READY TO PLANT THE TREES.

?

‘* You see,’’ said Georgina, as they were getting their hoe, rake and.
shovel, ‘‘if we never plant trees, and by and by our big ones dry up and
die, and there comes a hot summer, we won’t get a drop of rain, because
we haven’t any trees to draw the clouds. And our yard would look
mis’rable without a spear of grass on it, and everybody else’s green as’? —

She paused for a word. ‘* Green as grass,’’ said Dolly.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

‘< Yes, as green as that, only grass is what we’re saying it about, and
I was going to say as green as something else if I could have thought of it.’’

** You might say green corn,’’ suggested Dolly.

“«'Yhat’s white,’’ said Georgina.

‘Yes, after it’s peeled. But before, it isn’t.’’

‘*That’s so. But now we’ve got to get some trees. I’d like to plant
about four; and let’s plant a cherry, and a horse-chestnut, and a locust,
and there isn’t any more we can. The maples are too high up.’’

‘‘ A raspberry!’’ exclaimed Dolly. ‘‘There’s lots of them we could
get.”’

‘*Oh! but they’re only bushes. We've got to have trees.”’

‘* Well, if you plant them for trees, won’t they make trees?’’ asked _
- Dolly.

‘< Maybe they would. You can try it for yours if you want to,’’ said
Georgina. She was busily digging the first of the four holes. When all
were dug, the two sisters went about the yard to select their trees. From
the garden they pulled up a young cherry-tree about a foot high, the rasp-
berry experiment was easily got, but the horse-chestnut limbs were fur -
above their reach, and they were quite discouraged until Dolly remembered
a long string of. horse-chestnuts they had gathered and put on a cord the
fall before. : One of these they concluded to plant. They gave up the idea
of a locust-tree, because Georgina happened to think that the locusts were
a plague that killed every green thing, in the Bible story about Egypt,
which her mother had told her. Besides, there was a low evergreen from:
which it would be much easier to get a slip.

When the three trees and the nut were planted, and well watered,
Georgina told Dolly they must name the trees for somebody. That is what
Prof. Burns did at school.. They could choose: school names for two,
‘and name the others after their father and mother. So one was named for
Mr. Whittier, one for Mr. Holmes, one for Mr. Gentes Pettitt and one for
Mr. George Pettitt.

‘Now we must recite pomethine by each tree,’’ said Georgina.

‘¢ How can'we, when we ar’n’t in school?’’ asked Dolly.

‘*T don’t mean lessons,’’ said Georgina, ‘‘I mean verses that belong
to the folks the trees are for.’’


A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

‘*T can’t,’’ said Dolly; ‘‘ I don’t know a singly one.’’

‘* Well, I can do that. You stand by me and I’ll say them, by each
one. I know something that Mr. Whittier wrote. Mamma told it in the
‘ Barefoot Boy.’ It’s about trees, too. Il say that by his tree.’’

She stood up by the cherry-tree and said in a solemn, sermon-kind of
tone :

‘*Mine on bending orchard trees,
Apples of Cusperides.”

Three or four steps brought her to the raspberry, which was named for
Holmes. Here, she impressively recited :

‘Homes, Homes, sweet, sweet homes,
Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like homes.”

But between the evergreen twig and the buried horse-chestnut she
paused, puzzled. :

‘*T can’t think of a thing for papa and mamma,’

A bright look flashed over Dolly’s face.

‘*Let me. I haven’t done any. I know a.verse that’s got papa and
mamma. bofe in.’’

‘‘All right. You say it, then,’’ said Georgina. ‘I’ve said two, and
that will be same as two to you.”’ :

‘‘Won’t you laugh? ’’ asked Dolly, rather afraid to try this new play.
Being assured that Georgina wouldn’t think of such a thing, Dolly ven-
tured to repeat, with some emphasis :

?

she said.

“When little Ned was sent to bed,
He always acted right; :
He kissed mamma, and then papa,
And bid them both good-night.”

‘*I forget the ’nother verse,’’ she said, ‘‘ but anyway that’s got about
mamma and papa in it.’’

Georgina was quite impressed by Dolly’s thoughtfulness, and Arbor
Day exercises were voted a great success, though the children were much
disappointed that the trees all died.

Mrs. George Archibald.
PANN
Hay
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THE SUNNIEST PLACE WE COULD FIND.
A CUNNING NEST.— HOW SIMPLE IT IS.

A CUNNING NEST.

‘¢J nave found the cunning-
est bit of a nest —

A pretty brown bird, with a
pretty red breast ;

And what do you think was
under her wings?

Why, four little birdies —
the dearest of things;

Mamma-bird flew up to an
apple-tree bough,

I crept up close to her, I
hardly know how ; ;
Her babies were hungry —

they mostly were mouth —
So -Mamma-bird kept flying first North and then
RR 2 South; .
of - I think she was worried as you are, mamma, ~
Sometimes when you talk about things with papa ;

So I brought them some berries — they ate with a will —

T believe their mamma was glad to keep still.
And seeing me there to help her along,
She held up her head and she sang me a song.”’
: S. Rosalie Sill.



IN SEARCH OF BERRIES.

HOW SIMPLE IT IS!

Ir boys and girls, where’er they go,
Will keep one thought in mind,

*Twill gain you friends —I know ’tis so—
*Tis this: To all, speak kind!


ft Merry Christmas
to you all.
GOING TO BED.



EARNEST LITTLE ARTISTS.

GOING TO BED.

‘**Dororay! Dorothy! go to bed! ’’
Said I to my little sleepy-head.
I kissed her, and fondled a tiny curl,
While talking to my baby girl.

But coaxing and scolding would not do,
And I tried to think of something new.
‘< Tf, Dorothy, early you go to bed,

You'll soon be big, like May,’’ I said.

Quickly was raised the curly head ;
The funny little midge then said :
‘* If ’'ll in the morning be big like May,
Please take me to bed, then, right away.’’
_ Agnes E. Volentine.


A FRIEND IN NEED.
(A True Story.)

Ji couldn’t help barking that bright summer morning. For he felt '

lonesome and unhappy.
His master had gone to school, and he had to bark to keep up his
spirits. ae
* So he barked at a sleepy toad in the grass, at a robin in the tree, and
frightened a poor little kitten on the fence.
A FRIEND IN NEED.

But the bird flew off, and the kitten ran away, and then Jip made a
grand rush at a big fly that flew at him through the gate.

It looked like a fly, and it said, ‘‘ Buzz, buzz! I’ve had enough of
this noise.’’

So as Jip meant to keep it up, he thought he would finish the fly,
first; but, oh! it was such a surprising fly. It rushed at him, and
instead of being swallowed at one snap, it snapped back, and aoe his
poor little black nose most cruelly.

Then what happened ?

Why, there was a distressed howl, and a mad scamper through the
gate down the street, and no more was seen. of Jip till the boys came
out of school at noon.

As Jip’s master came down the school steps, whistling and happy, he
saw Fido, a bright little dog who was a friend of Jip’s, jumping up and
down and barking frantically at something in the mud by the ace of the
street.

Going across the street, Lester saw a poor little mass of mud that was
moving feebly about in the puddle.

‘‘Why! Hello! It’s Jip!’’ said the excited boy, as the de
dog looked up pitifully into his face.

He was too weak to get out, the mud covered in so completely, and
Fido, his faithful friend, was trying to help by running and yelping on the
edge of the water.

<¢ Good doggie, poor fellow; good doggie, poor fellow! ’’ said the boys
coaxingly.

Helping him out, they carried him home on a board, Fido following
with joyous barks and approving. wags of his curly. tail. :

Plenty of rest by the warm fire, made Jip all right in a few hours;
but he never could tell just what ailed that fly, nor why he rushed into
the mud to ease his poor swollen nose, nor how Fido knew the best
way to bring help, but a felt sure that ‘‘A friend in need, is a friend
indeed ! ’’

Emma S. Savage.





















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WOODPECKER DID NOT KNOW THE USE OF TELEGRAPH WIRES.

A WOODPECKER’S MISTAKE.

R-BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ ! in a telegraph pole,
_ A woodpecker heard the sound,
And dropped this thought in a deep’ning hole —
‘«That insect must be found.’’ |

Wise, busy bird, but he did not know
The use of telegraph wires :

How the messages run to and fro
Between electric fires.



Tt buzzes brisk ; I guess it is fat,
A savory bite for me.’’ ;
He pecked, he listened this way and that ;
Where could the insect be ?
A WOODPECKERS MISTAKE.

Yon apple-tree, again and again—
All pitted and doomed to die — :
He had pierced for lunch, nor once in vain, ©
Then why this mockery?

Long time he tried —sank cones in a row,
Till the weary beak grew sore ;

Never anything puzzled him so
In all his life before.

Buz-z! and the bird of the pointed bill

Thought the thing alive, no doubt,
Deep in the tree, and worked: with a will
_ To get the buzzer out.

Labor lost, you say? Well, dear, I ween
His stomach was poorly filled,

But in a museum may be seen
Some of the wood he drilled.

Lavinia S. Goodwin.




A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
THE CIRCUS PARADE.

EORGINA and Dolly were much
excited about the circus parade.
They were not going to the circus,
because Dolly was so afraid of the
animals that she could not have
been induced to stay in the tent.
But she was anxious to see the
parade. She could sit on Dr.
Dukesberry’s veranda, and Geor-
gina assured her the animals would
never think of such a thing as get-
ting out of the cages and coming
‘over an iron fence into the yard.

‘« Besides,’’ said Cousin Char-
lie, ‘‘I would stamp my feet and
hollo ‘ shoo!’ and snap this whip at them. I guess they would run then.’’

Cousin Charlie, who was seven, was visiting Georgina and Dolly. He
lived in a larger city than did the little girls, and they felt a good deal of
‘confidence in him on that account.

Dolly was impatient to start early. Charlie assured her there was
plenty of time to get there. Parades were always behind time.

Long before parade time, Dolly and Georgina and Charlie sat on
Dr. Dukesberry’s veranda in excited expectation. They would have
grown quite tired of waiting if the crowds coming and going had not
‘diverted them. Besides, they listened to two stories in the meantime.

_ The first was told by Cousin Charlie, who said he heard it from Kate

Niggle that worked for Helen Whitney’s mother.

‘¢ They’s a man,’’ said Charlie, ‘‘ that always goes in the lion’s den.
Did you ever see them, Georgina? ”’


A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

‘¢T saw a picture of Daniel,’’ said Georgina.

‘©Oh! that isn’t anything. Daniel’s lions couldn’t open their mouths.
But circus lions, they can open theirs as wide as that.’’

Charlie stretched his hands apart as far as they could go, and then
thinking that did not fairly represent a lion’s open mouth, he swung
himself around on the veranda floor, and separated his feet to their utmost
distance from each other.

«¢Q, suds! I should think the man would be afraid,’’ said Dolly.

‘¢ Well, sir, he isn’t, a mite. He just sits in the den— that’s the
cage, you know—and snaps his whip and puts his head in the lion’s
mouth, and the lion dar’sn’t say a word.’’

Cousin Fred, a young man who had spied the Pettitts on the fone
and come in to sit by them, laughed heartily.

“*T had a little circus, all by myself, once,’’ said Cousin Fred.
‘¢When I was out in California I got up early one morning and took
a long ride on the high bicycle I used to have; and just as I had .
turned to go back, I heard a big bellowing, and when I looked, there was
a herd of about twenty cattle after me. They had probably never seen a
bicycle, and it made them mad. I was pretty well frightened, and went
about. as fast as I could, and they did not overtake me. But if my wheel
had broken, or I had taken a header, I am afraid I should not have s seen
this parade.’”’

These wild stories had made Dolly so timid that she climbed into
Mrs. Pettitt’s lap, and was rather nervous when she heard the first strains
of the circus band. But she soon began to enjoy the beautiful horses, the
gayly dressed men and women, the music, the funny clown who kept
bowing to the crowd, while the old woman in the shoe, Mother Goose, and
Santa Claus in gilded chariots, were like a bit of fairy land.

She could not restrain her nervous fear of the animals, however, and
was frantic with fright when she saw a man sitting in the lion’s cage.

She shut her eyes and would not look up until they assured her the
dreadful cage was far past. As for the camels and elephants, they would
certainly have made the child a little bit crazy if her mother, in whose
word she had perfect reliance, had not told her they neither could nor
would hurt her.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

The children had much to talk about when they reached home. Their
grandmamma listened. Then she told them an experience of her own.

‘J went to a circus when I was a little older than Charlie,’’ she said;
‘the keeper of the elephants offered to let any of the children ride who
would like to. And I rode around the ring with some other children.’’



COUSIN CHARLIE ENTERTAINS THEM.

**O, suds! Did you? Were you a performer?’’ asked Dolly.

‘*No; I was only a little country girl. The circus was quite different
from those of nowadays, and was held in a small town. It was considered
quite a fine thing for a child to get an elephant ride.’’

That night Dolly woke from sleep screaming.

‘What is the matter?’’ asked her mother, much frightened.

‘©Q, suds! ’’ cried Dolly; ‘*I went to go across the road and a horse
bit my head clear off.’’

‘And it was some time before she could be convinced iat her head was

quite safe, and she might go to sleep in peace.
Mrs. George Archibald.


DRIVING HOME THE SHEEP.



NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
‘¢ BREAKING THE CIRCUIT.’

Tue Wentworth family were in the sitting-room, and Nurse Powell was
with them. In a few minutes the door bell rang, and in walked Uncle Jith
and his little boy.

‘*Ts it Children’s Evening,’’ asked Uncle Jim.

*©O, no! ’’ said Lillie,‘‘ or we should be up in our own room.’’

‘¢ They’re so used to having their stories told in the Children’s Room,’’
said Nurse Powell, ‘‘it wouldn’t seem like children’s evening to have them
told anywhere else.’’

‘* That’s what makes cranks of folks,’’ said Uncle Jim, who had great
contempt for the class of people so a talked about, and known by the
name of ‘* crank.’’

‘* What is,’’ asked Robbie, << telling stories? ’’

‘*No; not telling stories,’’ said Uncle Jim, <‘ but thinking you must
always be in one place when your stories are told.’
NURSE POWELLS GIANT.
‘«’Course you must be orderly,’’ said Winnie. He was having strict
rules enforced just then, and being taught to put away his playthings, and
take care of his picture-books, when he was through using them.

‘I’m getting into deep water,’’ laughed Uncle Jim. ‘‘ As is apt to
be the oases ve each are right, only we each are reasoning out of our own
experience.’

Uncle Jim was going to say something ale: but just then a man came
in and said the lamps in the town hall had gone out.

‘‘Dear me!’’ said Nurse Powell; ‘‘what’s the Old Giant up to now,
I wonder? ”’

' « about it.”’

This puzzled Robbie, as it might you or me; and when Uncle Jim
came back he wanted to know what he meant.

‘ any more about it then.

‘¢' You see when we gét hold of the Old Giant — electricity, I mean
—we have to look out for him,’’ Uncle Jim went on to tell Robbie,
‘‘or there is no telling what he would do after he got to traveling about
over the wires.

‘¢ When we let the old giant go into the town hall, we put up the wires
for him to walk over, and placed the lamps where he could wink into each
one. But you see we have to fix it so he can come out when we want
him to, no matter where he goes.

‘« To do this, we take a metallic piece, something the shape of the top
of a flat button-hook, and every once in a while we cut the wire in two,
and attach this metallic piece to either end. This makes a safe bridge for
the old giant to walk over when closed.

‘«If we open the bridge — that is, push the switch, or this metallic piece
aside— the old giant has to stop right where he is, and all the lights go
out. That’s what we mean by ‘ breaking the circuit.’ ’’

‘‘Sometimes the switch gets turned by mistake, doesn’t it?’’ asked
the children’s mother.

‘* That’s often the case,’’ said Uncle Jim. ‘‘ It was the blunder of a
new man to-night ; but we all must live and learn.”’

29

said Uncle Jim. ‘‘ I'll go down and see
BESSIE AT GRANDMAMMA’S.

‘* It’s a pity folks can’t get better acquainted with the old giant,’’ said
Nurse Powell, ‘‘ and know his ways better.”’
‘“We’re getting acquainted every day, Nurse,’’ he said. ‘* It won’t
be long now, before he’ll go about among us like a neighbor.”’
Greta Bryar.



BESSIE AT GRANDMAMMA’S.

Bessie says the grand-
mammas in stories are al-
ways old ladies. They wear
caps and spectacles.

But her grandmamma
is young. She has rosy
cheeks and little curls all
about her forehead.

She lives in Boston on
Chestnut Street. Last win-
ter Bessie made her a visit.
She saw a great many new
and strange things.

Bessie lives in Nova

- Scotia. Where she lives
the people heat their
houses with stoves. She
had never seen a furnace.

She thought it very
strange that the heat should
come up through a hole in

BESSIE IS PERPLEXED. the - floor. At first she

; thought the house was on

fire. But grandmamma took her down to the basement and explained
to her all about the furnace.


BESSIE AT GRANDMAMMA’S.

At Bessie’s home the water is drawn from a deep well. At grand-
mamma’s it comes through pipes.

At first Bessie had gr eat fun in letting it run. All she had to do was
to turn the silver faucet
and out ran the cold water!

Then she would turn
another faucet and out
came the hot water ! i

‘Oh! it is very fun-
ny,’’ thought Bessie.

Then. Bessie saw the

grocer come to the house
and leave packages of
sugar and coffee. The
market man came with
chicken and meat. The
postman came with letters
and papers.
. ‘*How kind the folks
are to give you all these
things,’’ said Bessie to
grandmamma.

Then grandmamma
laughed merrily. ‘* You
dear little goose! ’’ she
Sardescs yl bought all those - “3 0W KIND THE FOLKS ARE!” SAID BESSIE.
things.’’

Bessie’s papa has always to go for his meat and his groceries and his
letters himself. So of course Bessie did not know the way people do in
cities.

Bessie had hardly ever seen an orange in her life. Just think of that!
But she had seen plenty of pumpkins. So when grandmamma bought’
some oranges for dinner Bessie thought they were little pumpkins.

How her Cousin Harry did shout! It was rather rude in him, but
Bessie did not care.




BESSIE AT GRANDMAMMA’S.

She didn't care a bit even when he called her a ‘little country
pumpkin.”’ .

‘¢When ,ou come to Nova Scotia, you'll be s’prised at things,’’ she
said, and I dare say he will.

Grandmamma took Bessie to a great many places while she was
visiting at her home in Boston. She took her to one place I think she
will never forget.

‘** Would you like to hear the Little Wanderers sing?’’ she asked.

‘ But she did not know who
the Little Wanderers were,
so grandmamma told her .
about them.

‘¢They are little boys
and girls,’’ said grand-
mamma. ‘‘ They have no _
home, and nobody to love
and take care of them.
So kind people have given
them a home.

<<'They live in a pleasant
house, which kind people
have built on purpose for
them, and they have a
school and learn to sing.”’

Six of them sang that
day in Tremont Temple.
They stood in a row on the broad platform. Hundreds of people had
come to hear the Little Wanderers. Cousin Harry went with Bessie
and grandmamma.

One of the little girls was no larger than Bessie.

‘‘Oh!’’ thought Bessie, ‘how scared I should be, I couldn’t sing
abit

But the Little Wanderers sang very sweetly.



FOR GRANDMAMMA’S TABLE.

K. L.


FOREST.

FOR THE

‘DDY SETS OUT

E
A BIT OF NATURAL HISTORY.

Every mother has her own
way of taking care of her chil-
dren, but I dare say you will
think the Mother Woodcock car-
ries her young in a very different
manner from most mothers.

The Woodcock is a native
of swamps and damp meadows,
and it finds plenty of worms
and insects there to feed upon.
It picks out a dry, sheltered
spot, and builds a nest out. of
grass and leaves. The Woodcock’s nest is put together loosely. Then
Mother Woodcock lays her yellowish-brown eggs, spotted with dark brown
and gray. As soon as the young are hatched she takes them one by
one, carries them in her claws, and sets the little downy things down on
the soft, spongy ground, where they can be easily fed. _ For all mothers
are watchful of their little ones. Beth Gray.





NAMING THE BABIES.

‘ Wuatever shall I call them?’ said little adoptive Mother Marguerite
fondly. Real Mother Cat looked a bit anxious. ‘‘I’ll ask the ladies,’’
said Marguerite. ‘‘ The ladies ’’ were the four summer boarders.

Off from the vine-hung piazza and into the parlor went the two
mothers with the babies. Those grown-up ladies tossed aside their fancy
work, and were down on the rug in a minute, stroking the wee kittens.

‘Let’s each name one. This shall be Buttercup.’’ Buttercup had
A SEASIDE TILE.

blotches of yellow., ‘‘ This is Thelma,” said the next lady, who was
rather romantic, and had just read a book with that title. :

Marguerite thought they were nice names, Buttercup especially. Her
heart quite stood still, though, when the other two were named ‘‘ Moses ’’
and ‘* Nebuchadnezzar.’’ ‘ I’ll never call them so,’’ she thought.

_ The kittens throve as if no big names weighted them. They became
Neb and Mose ‘‘for short.’’ The four were such frisky, rollicking
things. Every day they had a frolic in the parlor, because it amused the
summer boarders. ie

This is a true story. While I tell it the little adoptive mother’s lap is
empty, and the real Mother Cat is lonely, because her children have done
that sad thing which children persist in doing — they have grown up.

Helen A. Hawley.











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A SEASIDE TILE.
OSCAR’S FOURTH OF JULY.

OSCAR’S FOURTH OF JULY.

Oscar was a newsboy and about eight years old when he had his first
Fourth of July in Boston.

Patsy Mahan who went to the same school had told ha that every ~~

Fourth of July any one could go on the ferry-boat and be taken to Hast
Boston and back without paying, and could go as ey times as he wanted
to. Oh! wouldn’t that be fine?

He thought of it so much that once he calle, ‘¢ Hast Boston ferry-
boat! ’’ instead of saying, ‘‘ Morning papers.’

How long it seemed to him before his bundle of papers had all heen
. sold!

He ran as fast as he could to leave his money, then to the corner
where Patsy was to meet him and show him the way.

Patsy reached the corner first and was looking all around for him;

but he looked in the wrong direction, so that Oscar had a chance to
come up behind him and say ‘‘ Boo!’ so quick that it made Patsy
jump.
The two boys were both out of breath, but they started off on a
run again, and Patsy led the way down State Street and along Atlantic
Avenue because there were not so great crowds as on Washington and
Hanover Streecs.

Yes, there was the ferry-boat at the landing and people going on.
The two boys went on board too, and soon the boat started.

Out into the open water — how strange it was! The landing and the
whole shore seemed moving away from them and in a moment they were
looking away off, at one side, where there was no land at all.

Then the further shore appeared to be coming out to meet them, float-
ing along so quietly.

It seemed to Oscar the most beautiful way of passing a holiday that
he ever thought of.

And the Fourth of July, too!

Lilla Barnard.





JENNY WREN
AND THE
DRUMMER-BOY.

Sometuine happened the first of July,
1690, that made Jenny Wren an illustrious
character. It was when King William
the Third, of England, won the Battle of
4 the Boyne.
Vl There was war during that summer,
and the poor soldiers suffered very much.
Upon the eve of the great Battle of the
Boyne, they were so tired after one of their marches that they lay down
for a short sleep —an unwise thing to do; for it is a soldier’s duty to
keep wide awake, and remain on watch for the enemy. .

There was a drummer-boy among the soldiers, who shut his eyes with .
the rest. Before he fell asleep, he had been eating his rations, and some
crumbs of bread had dropped on the head of his drum. In one of the trees
beneath which the soldiers were sleeping, perched a little wren; and as
soon as she spied the crumbs, she flew down to secure them.

She hopped about on the parchment of the drum, and the tap, tap, tap,
of her beak awoke the drummer-boy. Nota minute too soon, either, for
as he opened his eyes, he was startled by the sight of the enemy advanc-
“ing. He had barely time to beat the signal of alarm, which awoke his
comrades, and put them on their defense. King William’s skill, it is said,
won that battle. But I would like to ask how the fortunes of the day
would have turned, had not this wise little bird roused the tired drummer-
boy just as she did? Beth Gray.



a
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DECOYS AND DUCKS.

DECOYS AND DUCKS.

Wuen I was a boy in knee-breeches, I spent a summer with an uncle
out in the wild, far-away West, on the shores of Manitoba Lake.

Oh! the shooting and the fishing and the trapping, even in mid-
summer.

It was not like hunting at home, where one must tramp all day to find
anything worth shooting. They knew just when to go and where to go
and what they were sure to find.

Before daylight they would hide in the bushes along a line of little
lakes leading into the great lake, and even in the darkness they would hear
the flapping and the whirring of their wings, as duck and brant and plover
started on their morning flight. Just as soon as it was light enough to
see them against the sky, they could begin shooting and keep on till broad
daylight, while the dogs swam out in the water and brought in the game.

Between ten and twelve in the morning the great honkers always came .
up the lakes for lunch. Honkers means wild geese. They flew pretty
high, then, but there were some fine shots on the ranch.

At sunrise and sunset there were always crane in the grain-fields.
Crane steaks are the very best of meat ; but they never let me try shooting
crane, for they are very savage when only wounded. One of them killed
an Indian on my uncle’s ranch.

At first they would not let me do much of anything’ My uncle said it
was because I was a tender-foot. I was angry, and told him my feet were
not tender. -Then they all laughed at me and I found out afterward, that
tender-foot just means some one who has only been there a little while.

The first time they took me they went to snare ducks with decoys ©
We started through the forest before daylight, and came very softly to the
shores of one of the little lakes where we set the nets and placed the decoys.
floating about in the very midst of them.

Decoy ducks are just imitations, made to look so much like real ducks,
that, in the early morning light the live ducks flying up the lakes hunting
for breakfast, cannot tell the difference.
DECOYS AND. DUCKS.

They see the decoys floating about and think them a flock that has
found something to eat, and down they come to help them.

It was very cold and dark as we sat down to wait, but soon the zipping
of the wings began, and I could see shadows against the sky, sweeping
along just over my head. Then excitement and impatience kept me warm,
till all of a sudden a flock of seventeen ducks dropped plump into the water
right among our nets and decoys.

I did not know they were coming, and for a moment I was frightened.
‘That was because I was a tender-foot.

We caught every one of them, and as I flew about helping to “‘ bag ’’
them and carry them home I felt as grand as any hunter that ever walked
_ on the shores of Manitoba Lake. |
Warren H, Frych.




& \
USS
AW

: \

i (WEEN Gah
\\ \

\

‘¢sIx FOR FIVE CENTS !|”®
A SILK-LINED HOME.

A SILK-LINED HOME.

I know a mansion with its queen, ©
The cutest dwelling ever seen !
Its owner built these walls alone,
Of red clay, fair as our brown stone.
’Tis lined throughout with finest silk,
Soft to the touch, and white as milk.
And, lo! without the use of axe,
Hammer, or saw, his skill to tax,
Nor needing e’en a single nail,
Tis made to meet the wildest gale.
With noiseless hinge its single door
Shuts of itself, and is secure ;
A most luxurious retreat,
Large as a hen’s egg neath our feet.
What is the little fellow’s name
Whose mason-work is known to fame ?
(The Mason Spider. )
: George Bancrof: Griffith.





THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE.







ui




















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Y b AN WN) SAY ‘ aS

| WAX SAAN
WON SAT Saar

2 eS Sali

ie a St Qs S Owes

SZ ASS SS ANY Ws



eS

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ISS

THEY KNEW JUST WHERE TO GO.
TIT, TAT AND TOR.



MRS. HEN’S HOUSE.

Tir, Tat and Toe lived with their
mother in a small house. Mrs. Hen
would cluck, cluck, and the three
little chickens would run into their
house with her. Then the door
would be closed, so nothing could
harm them. Tit, Tat and Toe were
all pretty little fluffy things at first.
By and by the chickens lost all
their feathers; then rough, coarse

feathers began to grow on their naked little bodies.
Tit and Tat soon were nicely covered, and looked a good deal like their
mother. But Toe was very thin, and the feathers were slow in growing.

Only a few sprouted upon her wings.
Mrs. Hen was worried about it.

‘* Poor little Toe,’’ she said, <‘I am

afraid you will be blistered by the hot sun.’’

She tried to keep her in
the shade, but Toe wanted
to catch bugs and grass-
hoppers as well as Tit and
Tat.

One day Mrs. Hen walked
along in front of the house
where the people lived. Tit,
Tat and Toe followed her.
She wanted to see if the two
little girls who were playing
with paper dolls out on the

front porch wouldn’t notice Toe.



MRS. HEN AND HER CHILDREN.

Ethel and Bessie admired Tit and Tat.

** But see the poor little naked chicken,’’ said Ethel.
** Yes,’’ said Bessie. ‘‘I think we: ought to make a dress for it.’’
JUNE.

Mamma thought it would be a good plan, too. She looked at poor
Toe carefully, to be sure of her size. Then she cut out a pretty little
chicken frock of bright turkey red, and Edith and Bessie soon finished it.
_ When they tried to catch Toe, and put on
the new dress, Tit and Tat ran away. Mrs.
Hen herself was afraid she had done wrong PP eh
in bringing her children round to the people’s Gi, q utile
house. But Ethel and Bessie put Toe’s legs pe
into the arm-holes, then they fastened the
little frock loosely over Toe’s back, and Toe
walked off in her bright red suit.

Cluck, cluck!’’ said Mrs. Hen, calling Tit and Tat to come and
look at Toe; ‘‘ cluck, cluck! girls are some use, after all.’’
i EH. BR. Tigobee.



GHA

IN HER BRIGHT RED FROCK,



ie RUNNING IN FRONT OF THE PEOPLE’S HOUSE.

JUNE.

JuNE, June! the loveliest tune
Is none too sweet to fit your praise;
Skies biue, roses, too,
And perfumed airs through longest days.
Scent of clover ; the bees hang over
Fields of billowy pink and white,
Their odors flinging, while birds are singing
All day long until the night.
Ah, June, sweet June!
A lively tune, for thee, O, June! Helen M. Winslow.
WHO KNOWS, HIM ?



OUT FOR A WALK.

WHO KNOWS HIM?

THERE was a small boy in the town

Who rigged himself up for a clown,

And then teased his mother and every cthe:
Poor soul in the house to come down.

And then they must pay him a penny,
Or, if by bad luck they’d not any,
They must pay him a pin, ere he’d let them come in
To see his fine tricks, which were many.
Alice Mayo Huntington.



Sichie’s Bird. —=

One of Richie’s birds had died
And one had flown away,
And Richie’s sister Nell had cried
Almost all-one day.




Rae In fact they couldn’t comfort ne
é.. She felt so very sad,
A For these little singing yellow birds
Bo Were the sweetest things they had.

Said Richie, ‘‘ I will make a bird,
And it shall fly sky-high,
If you will only wipe your eyes
And promise not to cry.

I’ll tie a string tight to the tail,
And then I’ll let her go;

She’s bound to beat most any bird,
If the wind will only blow.’’ a Ay

£1

So Nellie dried her pretty eyes
And brought the paste and things,
While Richie fashioned ribs and sides
-And worked upon the wings.

"Twas quite a job, but up she
sailed, : i “)

As the wind the tree-tops stirred,
And Richie held the string and cried, \\\, Anse
“¢ Come, Nell, and see the bird.’’ oy / YAN MW Ke
Eleanor Kirk. i
WHO OPENED THE GATE?





‘¢ Dera, look at that
horse again! I do wish
thee’d be more careful
about that gate.’’. Mother
Folger spoke in the Quaker
tongue.

Delia ran downstairs,
saying, ‘‘ Now, Mother
Folger, I’m sure I shut that
gate. I took special pains
to see it was latched.’’

“But there is the

THe &

FANN i ih
REEL pe fhe 4 “Nl sh)

Me Pet | ay Ua 1!

5 ( sais
bf ie horse, and not a living
Ii 3
7) _ a person has been out since
= thee came in,’’ answered
- DELIA W ATCHES OCTAGON, Mother Folger

Delia ran on through the kitchen and into the yard where old Octagon
was feeding nearer and nearer to the newly-washed clothes lying on the
grass. She led him out and shut the gate, dropping the long wooden
latch into the catch with a sound that could be heard.

‘There! ’’ she said, ‘
9?

see.

She sat down on the iooretep and waited. Old Octagon stood a
moment or two, then put his head down and went to eating the grass.
Pretty soon he began to look at the grass in the yard. Then he walked
to the gate, put his head over it, reached the long wooden latch, fumbled
at it with his lips till he raised it and the gate yielded to his pressure and
swung open, when he walked in to eat of the nice grass again. Then
Delia laughed aloud. She called:

‘‘ Mother Folger, Mother Folger, I know now who opens the gate. It
is old Octagon himself. I knew I always took care to shut it tight.’’
TAKING DOLLY FOR A WALK.

‘Why, child, how thee talks! What makes thee say Octagon opened
it? ’’ said Mother Folger, coming to the door. ae

‘* Because I saw him. I shut the gate tight, then sat right here and
waited, and when all was still he came along and put his head over and
never left trying till he raised the latch and in he walked.”’

‘* Thee will have to tell ‘ Father’ when he comes to dinner, and he
will contrive some way to keep the gate shut.’’

Then Delia led Octagon to the barn and fastened him there till he
could be let to wander without getting into the yard and trampling the
clean clothes.

Lilla Barnard.



we doll. you Know
e ale

Fauld 5. FIHER,




Once there was a black cat which had two little black kittens. They
were very, very black, and looked so much alike that their mistress had to
tie a yellow ribbon around the neck of one of them so she might tell them
apart. The mother-cat was very fond of her babies, but one day she had
to lose one of them, for her mistress gave it to a boy named Charlie, who
carried it home to live with him.

“« Now,’’ said he, ‘‘ kitty must have a name,’’ and as it was a very
small kitten, he gave it a very long name ; he called it Tommy Tiddlywinks.

Well, Tommy Tiddlywinks grew and grew, and went out to play with
the other cats. But one day poor Tommy got sick, and he grew sicker
and sicker. Then his party happened in this way.

Charlie was sorry to see poor Tom Tiddlywinks so sick, and said he
must have some medicine. Now the cats’ medicine is catnip, and they all
like it, too. So one day Charlie’s sister put some catnip out in the yard
for Tommy to eat, when what do you suppose happened ?

Why, before Tom had a chance to eat any of it, Charlie saw a gray
cat coming over the fence. Then he saw a black-and-white cat coming
into the yard with her two black-and-white kittens; then a striped cat
came crawling under another fence; and then another and still another
came, until there were nine cats all after Tom Tiddlywinks’ catnip. They
had smelled it a long way off and, as they all lived in the city where it
does not grow, they came to get some of Tom’s, and so gave him a sur-
prise party. After the party Tommy Tiddlywinks got well.

Emma C. Shirley.

?
SEPTEMBER. t

LEZ
SSE Ze:





THE HOUSE OF MEISSUNIER— BOULEVARD MABERHERBES, PAKIS.



SEPTEMBER.

O, golden, glad September !
O, bright, sunshiny days !
«Next winter we’ll remember
Your soft and yellow haze,
And try to make your mellow cheer
Light up those wintry days, and drear.
O, yes! we will remember

You, golden, glad September !
Helen M. Winslow.
a i OY A a
LEE, cic TGS

” =——



READY FOR A CANTER.

NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
‘¢17 TAKES THE OLD GIANT.”’

One morning along in the summer, Fred Tufts brought a letter from the
post-office that made quite a stir in the Wentworth Cottage.

Fred was the chore-boy. He began his work as soon as the Went-
worths moved into their cottage, and kept on until they went back to
the city.

It was from the Wentworth children’s grandfather. He was sick, and
wanted their mother to come to him right away. :

“‘T don’t. see how I can go,’’ said Mrs. Wentworth. ‘I dislike to
leave Baby while he’s cutting his eye-teeth.’’

But Nurse Powell told her not to mind that; the baby would be all -
right. So she got ready, and Fred drove her to the station.

‘* You’re two of the best children that ever lived,’’ said Nurse Powell,
a few days later.

She was talking to Robbie and Lillie Wentworth.

The baby had been pretty sick, and Robbie and Lillie took down their
Rollo books, and read to Winnie. They played games, and did everything
they could to make him happy. '
NURSE POWELLS GIANT.

Robbie lighted a match, and dropped it into a bottle, and then put the
stopper in. But the match went out.

“QO, look! ”’ said Winnie: ‘‘ the match hasn’t burned a atten,

** Guess why? ’’ said Robbie.

‘*’Cause it didn’t catch fire before you shut it up,’’ said Lillie.

‘* That isn’t the reason,’’ said Robbie, lighting another, and letting it
get well under way, before he put in the stopper. But the match went
out just the same.

‘¢ Run to bed now,’’ aeeupted Nurse Powell. She had rocked the
baby to sleep, and put him in his cradle. :

‘*T believe he’ll have a good night,’’ said Nurse. ‘‘ Lillie will dream
about the conundrum, and then in the morning perhaps she can tell the
answer. I should like to hear what made the match go out.’’

‘¢The dream didn’t come,’’ said Lillie, next morning. So when Fred
Tufts brought in the mail, she asked him what he supposed was the reason
the match didn’t burn.

‘« There wasn’t oxygen enough in the bottle after Robbie shut it up,
to keep the fire going,’’ said Fred.

‘* Tt burnt out in the room,’’ said Lillie.

‘« There’s oxygen out in the room, else you couldn’t breathe, any more
than the match could burn when it’s shut up tight in the bottle. We
_ can’t get along without oxygen, you know.”’

‘¢T don’t see but you’re as far along as Robbie,’’ said Nurse Powell,
who had not supposed Fred would be able to answer Lillie’s question.

“*T ought to be,’’ said Fred; ‘‘ I’m older than he is.’’

‘ believed boys who went to private schools got along faster than boys who
went to public schools, for she had a doubt in her own mind that it was so.

‘¢ Well, get your things,’’ added Nurse. ‘‘ The baby’s so much better
this morning, I’m going to take him out; and I want you to go too.”’

Nurse walked on until they came to a large building. She opened the
door on the left, and they stepped into a room where a young woman sat
at a table, with a funny-looking instrument in front of her.

The young woman paid no attention to them, and Nurse Powell gave
the baby to Lillie and crossed over toa shelf on the opposite side of the

?
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

room, and began writing on a slip of paper, with a pen which was lying
there. It took her some time to finish the writing. Then she carried it
to the young woman, who read it over carefully.

Nurse stood watching her, and the children came and stood beside
Nurse, for the baby wanted to be in Nurse Powell’s arms.

The young woman bent over the instrument in front of her, and pushed
a little round black handle to the right. Then she pressed down on a little
knob several times, and each time she did so they heard a sharp, quick,
click! click! She waited a second or so, and then began again to press
down on the little knob. And all the time they kept hearing the click !
click! —celick,
click, while she
kept on pressing
down, slowly,
sometimes, then
quicker.

‘‘What did
you do in there,
Nurse Powell? ’’
asked Lillie, when

ee they came out.
Aipessend “Got the Old
Giant to speak to
your mother,’’
-said Nurse.
Se se ‘« Sent a tele-
gram,’’ said Rob-
bie. ‘The Old Giant came in pretty handy, didn’t he? Every time you
heard a click, he spelled out a letter.’’

‘*T guess you sent mamma a good long message,’’ said Lillie.

‘‘ Why, no, I didn’t,’’ laughed Nurse. ‘‘ About six or seven words.’’

‘¢ What were they?’’ said Lillie. .

** Baby’ s got both his eye teeth through.”’

‘It takes the Old Giant,’’ said Robbie.



Greta Bryar.
HIS FAULTY SPEECH.

I xnew a boy with a busy tongue

As ever inside a bell was swung;

He had a voice to read and declaim ;

But these were words that he could not frame ~—-
Thank you.

Little men made of different stuff,

Offered a ‘‘ thank you ’’ brightly enough ;

But all the time that this boy was young,

The sentence stuck like wax to his ene —
Thank you.



POLITE MANNERS.

He grew like others, far as we knew,

Yet never he in the least outgrew

The luckless habit of being dumb

When the civility ought to come —
Thank you.

Now boys may grow to a manly height,

But if their manners are not polite,

They make few friends ; and such is the case

Of him who cannot say with a grace —
Thank you.



Take care to know that while you are young

Is the proper time to teach your tongue ;

Each little woman and little man,

Say often enough to be sure you can —
Thank you.

FAULTY MANNERS,

Lavinia 8. Goodwin.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
A PIXBURG FOURTH.

IXBURG was a small village six miles
from the city where Georgina and
Dolly lived. The twins lived in Pix-
burg. They were six weeks older
than Georgina, and their names were

Ruth and Anna Rutherford. Georgina and

Dolly were very fond of the twins. They

could not tell which one. they liked best, on

account of the other one.

They went to spend the Fourth with the
Rutherfords. Their mother also went, and
they took an early start on the beautiful sum-
mer morning. ‘They carried a bundle of four-
teen packs of fire-crackers, besides a few small
4 fire-works to add to the Rutherford demon-

THE TWINS. stration. :
They rode about a mile on the electric car
to the railroad station, and there they waited for the train. They visited
with several friends while they waited, until a train came steaming up
which their mother said passed through Pixburg. It did, but when the
conductor took their tickets, he told them it did not stop there. The train
which did stop had gone while they sat waiting for this one.

Mrs. Pettitt was dismayed, but the kind conductor offered to let them
off at Pixburg, and they were transferred from the car to the little village,
with scarcely any delay to the train, which steamed swiftly away as the
Pettitts crossed the station platform. Mrs. Pettitt laughed and said it
was not every one who could travel by special train.

On account of the blunder with the train, no one met them. But when
they were near the pretty Rutherford house, a carriage load of people



‘A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

called to them from behind, and the astonished Rutherfords, twins and all,
drove to the sidewalk. Hxplanations and laughter followed, and the
twins’ young lady aunts, Jennie and Bertha, alighted, that the visitors.
might enter the carriage for a ride which was planned for them.

This ride was a charming one, all up and down the village streets and
some pretty country roads thereabout. But Georgina and Dolly were more
entertained by the many children they saw than by all the other entertain-
ing things. It seemed as if most of them were named after the Ruther-
fords and wore the outgrown garments of the twins. This was because
they chanced to pass many houses where lived men employed in Mr. Ruth-
erford’s tannery, or whose wives had worked for Mrs. Rutherford. And
because the Rutherfords had been helpful, the men and women had been
grateful, and the children showed the friendly feelings of all, in their
names.

When they returned from the ride, David had come. He was the
cousin of the twins, and lived twelve miles from Pixburg in an opposite
direction from the home of the Pettitts. ‘His papa came with him. His
' papa was on business. David was on business, too.

The first business was croquet. The fire-crackers were not to be fired
until after dinner, when they were to be taken down by the creek, and the
time of waiting must be improved by as much fun as could be put into it.
_ The children played croquet well, and Dolly being so small was considered
quite remarkable. After croquet, Mr. Rutherford helped in a game of
baseball. The bat was a big stick when Mr. Rutherford and David were
batters, but the girls used a toy broom. They could hit better. .

Down by the creek where they went for their Fourth, was a splendid
place where gravel and clean tan-bark was spread, and here the combined
crackers of three families were shot off with more noise and smell of powder
than any one but children could enjoy. Mr. Rutherford was overseer and
the mothers were not afraid of accidents.

But there was one. Not by fire, but by water. David, led away by
his patriotism, resolved to wave a flag on a big stone, well out in the creek.
And that wave cost him his footing. Down he went into the wet, wet
water, he and his pretty visiting suit — almost too pretty for July ney,
if there had been no creek to fall into.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

David’s uncle fished him out and there was a melancholy procession to
the house.

** What is the matter? ’’ cried Mrs. Rutherford.

‘¢T fell into the creek a little,’’ said David, ‘‘ and I guess I’ve got a
little wet.’’

“¢T * puess’ you have,’’ assented Aunt Rutherford.

What could she do? If he had only been a girl she could have fitted
him out in some of the twins clothes. Now, she must strip him and try to



DAVID PUTS ON THE JONES BOY’S CLOTHES.

dry him before train time. Povr David had to don the biggest twins stock-
ings and slippers and some of her underclothes and wrap a shawl around him
while his suit was hung by the kitchen fire.

And alas! the clothes would not dry on time. Aunt Rutherford be-
came quite nervous as the hour drew near when he must go back with his
father. Then she happened to think of something. She would go and
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

explain the situation to Mrs. Jones, whose husband kept the Pixburg
House and whose boy was not much older than David. Mrs. Jones would -
Jend her a suit. But Mrs. Jones’s boy had only two suits and was gone
away with the best one. So David was dressed in the every day costume
of a boy about a head taller and much fatter than himself, a patched suit,
too. He knew he looked very queer in it and he cast appealing a at
his aunt as she declared him all right for his journey.

- On account of the accident, the Pixburg Fourth could not be called a
‘perfect glory. But it had enough glory in it to fill the hearts of the four
girls with joy. The fire-works were a complete success, and the Pettitts
parted from the Rutherfords at train time with congratulations about the
pleasure they had found in being together.

At ten o’clock, Georgina and Dolly were covered up, to rest their tired
bodies by a night’s sleep. Mrs. Pettitt kissed them both several times.
One good-night kiss was never enough. As she put the last one on p Dolly: 8

_ red lips she said :

«¢ Well, was it as much fun as you thought it would be?”’

And Dolly said sleepily : ‘* Won’t you please excuse me from answer.
ing you till to-morrow? I’ve got such a good start to go to sleep.”’

i Mrs. George Archibald.



THE TUB RACE.


AN OFFERING.

O, partines! come to the fields with me,
Brushing the morning dew ;
Fill your white hands, your dimpled hands,

With violets sweet and blue.

Come to the woods, the budding woods,
Dear hearts so soft and true,

That long for your noble countrymen
Some little thing to do.

Search through the dim and mossy glades;
Among the wakening trees ;

Fill your white hands, your dimpled hands,
With pink anemones.

Come to the ragged garden walks
To see what flowers are up ;
A WARM BED.

Gather a spotless lilac plume,
Gather a tulip cup.

Bind the flowers from the budding woods,
The flowers from the windy hills,

The lilac plume and the tulip cup
With golden daffodils.

Then wait and watch, as the line goes by,
For a soldier old and gray,
And give him your heartfelt offering
For Decoration Day.
Mrs. M. F. Butts.



FOR A SOLDIER OLD AND GRAY.

A WARM BED.

A GREAT many years ago, all the houses were built with a big, cosey _
fireplace in each of the downstairs rooms, and overhead, in the chambers.
-or loft, the chimneys were usually built without any place for kindling a fire.

In the winter these sleeping-rooms were very cold.
No one, then, had thought how to make stoves.
A WARM BED.

If you had been put between the glass-smooth linen sheets of Great-
grandmamma, Merrill’s spare bed some cold winter night, before her warm-
ing-pan had taken the chill out of it, you might have thought you were
being slipped between sheets of glare ice, they were so cold and slippery.

To take the freeze and chill out of such cold beds in the frosty sleeping
rooms, Grandmamma Merrill’s mother, and all the other house-mothers in
those gone-by days, filled a warming-pan with live coals at bedtime each
winter night, shut tight its cover, and taking hold of the long handle of

the warming-pan, would quickly slide it “ all over the bed,
from head to foot and from side to side, \ between the slip-
pery linen sheets — until the iciness was all out of them.



AN OLD-FASHIONED WARMING-PAN.

Grandmamma Merrill’s pan has a Saee dent on one of its sides, and
this is how it came there :

One winter night, almost three fourths of a century ago, a colporteur
called at Great-grandpapa Merrill’s house, and was asked to stay over night.

Great-grandmamma gave him a nice supper. At bedtime she put a
shovelful of red-hot coals into the warming-pan, and with it sent her
little girl Anna into the ‘‘ fore room’ to warm the spare bed.

Grandmamma Anna slid the hot, brass-covered pan between the sheets,
up and down, right and left, faster and faster.

Then through the unlatched doors, she heard the colporteur minister
commence to read a story from one of his books, and she stopped to listen.

She forgot everything listening to that story, for in those days story
papers and books were scarce ; Grandmamma Anna had never read one.

The scent and smoke of burned bedding roused her, and she jerked the
warming-pan from the scorched bed so quickly it struck one of the -posts a
sharp blow, denting its brass side; but the colporteur minister, that night,
slept between nice smoking-hot sheets. Clarissa Potter.


















































































































































































































































CHRISTMAS SHOPPING IN GERMANY.


PLAYMATE AND PUSSY.

Wuen Puss stops purring and lies so still,
Her velvet paws on my shoulder, so,
Her eyes like a half-shut daffodil,
What is she dreaming, I’d like to know?
Of talking dolls I have sometimes heard,
Cousin Viola’s can count to five ;
“¢ Me-ew ’’ is Tabitha’s only word;
I love her most, for she is alive.

My cheek I lay on her soft, warm fur,
T hark to hear if her dreams are good,
The best and brightest should come to her ;
She would tell her ’sperience if she could.
When Tabitha starts and sleeps again,
Ts it rats she sees, and hears them squeak?
Are they caught before they steal the grain?
ae d be a story if Pet could speak.

Lavinia S. Goodwin.



MY NURSE.

Ir is not easy for anyone to be always ill, yet it is less bitter when one
can have a nurse like my young friend in the swing.

She is a tiny maiden of eleven, with a skin as white as milk, and hair
as pretty in color as the most enticing molasses candy that ever tempted
the pennies out of the pocket of any little man or woman.

One of the sweetest medicines she gave me was the pleasure of listening
during her hours of practice. ‘‘ Fra Diavolo,’’ ‘* The Old Oaken Bucket ri
MY NURSE.

with variations, ‘‘ Martha’’ and ‘‘ The Happy Farmer,’’ were melodious
anodynes that soothed hours of pain that must be endured. .

This nice nurse took her weekly lesson at 5p. mM. On that night, with-
out being reminded, she would see to it that my half-past-five lunch was
on the stand by my bedside within easy reach when the ne hour
arrived. Do not think her
too stupid to play; those
play best that work best,
and she found time for
study, music, fancy-work
and dancing.

One night in her play
‘* something ’’ cut through
shoe and stocking, a
curved gash in her foot ;
a young doctor-man soon
tied it together with three
stitches, after she had in-
haled something sweet and
gone to sleep. For days
we shared together the in-
valid delicacies. Soon she
hopped around like a lame
‘bird, waiting upon us both.

Though she does so
many things well, it seems,
as if her talents intended
her for the honorable posi- SHE IS EVER READY TO ANSWER MY CALL,
tion of companion and
nurse for an intelligent invalid. The profession of ‘‘ trained nurse ’’ is one
awaiting the best efforts at scholarship and nursely skill of our brightest
little men and women. There is a grand field awaiting the coming men
and women, who will to-day study physiology in school, and practice com-
mon sense hygiene out of study hours. Bring the best, and you will find
there 13 a market for it. Kesiah Shelton.






























LULY’S WASHING DAY.

(( Luty Brown dearly loves to de
I her Monday’s washing. When
i | | Hi) Mrs. Brown puts over the big
i i \ boiler and gets ready to wash,
ae (iii) Luly brings her tiny tub and
Ieee | wash-board and goes to work
‘‘just like mamma.’’ First,
she puts warm water and soap
into the little tub and shakes it
about until the water is soft and
foamy.

When Luly was a very littl
girl she called the snowy suds
her ‘‘ flock of milk-white sheep,’’
and mamma used to tell her fairy
stories about them.

Luly next sorts the clothes
and puts Dolly’s pretty muslin
aprons and lace-trimmed skirts
to soak, while she takes her
needle and thread and thimble
and scissors, and mends all the

torn clothing, for Seraphina is a very careless doll and tears her clothes
dreadfully.

Then Luly rolls her sleeves up high, and with a big towel pinned over
her dress, rubs all the clothes on her little wash-board.

Next they must be rinsed and ‘‘ blued ’’ very carefully, and pinned on

' the line to dry.

Seraphina sits by looking very discontented, because she thinks her hair
ought to be combed, and she will be glad when the washing is done, but she
never offers to help Luly one bit. E. 8. Oranson., -










HANGING OUT THE CLOTHES.
SESS
xs SN
an SS SS

S



? 29
USSY
DREAMING, P

YOU

°* ARE


THE SHUGLO FAMILY.

LABRADOR AND ITS PEOPLE.

THouGH little is known about the interior of Labrador, it was discovered
in 1479 by John Cabot, and at a very early period fishermen from Scandi-
navia and France frequented its bleak shores. A Basque whaler is sup-
posed to have given the territory its name, from his own, Le Brador. The
Arctic current coming down from Baffin’s Bay is just right to keep alive
a perfect ocean of tiny plants and creatures on which the little fish, worms,
and shell-fish live, which are in their turn food for codfish and herring.
The fish catch off the Labrador coast each year is valued at five hundred
millions of dollars. So you see what the Arctic current is worth. The
few white people are of English descent, or are French Canadians. Then
there are the Eskimos and the Cree Indians.

The Shuglo family are Eskimos, and grandpapa, grandmamma, papa
LITTLE TEE WHEW’S FOURTH.

and mamma, with Matthew, Paul, Martha and baby Anna, live in a log
house high up on the rocky shore of Ivuktoke, or Hamilton Inlet. Some-
times the tide rises twenty feet, sometimes even higher. But even in the
short, dark winter days it is pleasant at the Shuglos, for Papa Shuglo is
such a good fisherman and hunter he always has furs or fish to exchange for
flour, flannel and powder, and even unnecessary things. Mamma Shuglo

has a beautiful rose bush, which being of cloth is always in bloom, and she
has an accordion with scarlet leather sides, and when little Martha can
mend stockings so they look like new ones, she is going to be taught to
play upon it. Grandpapa Shuglo has a fine pack of dogs, the horses of
Labrador, so you will not be surprised to know that grandmamma has a
dress of real silk.

The brief summer is delightful. Beneath the spruce and fir-trees that
clothe the hills, checkerberries ripen, and in the opens are raspberries and
blueberries, and down in the peaty bogs are cranberries. But if the sun
is warm, the air is cool, and wool dresses and shirts, and sealskin boots
with the hair inside, are very comfortable.

Aunt Dolly.

LITTLE TEE WHEW’S FOURTH.

‘¢ How many fingers has my boy? ”’
Asked his mother of Little Tee Whew ;
‘<¢ Hight,’’ she cried, as he spread them wide ;
‘¢ Of thumbs, dear me, you have only two !
Do be careful of them to-day ;
Don’t break, or burn, or blow them away! ’’
As Tom ran off, to himself he said,
‘¢ What notions mamma gets into her head.’’

The day began — the Fourth, you know —
Bells to ring and whistles to blow.
LITTLE THEE WHEW’S FOURTH.

Tom, with Billy and Sam Carew,

Showed why they called him ‘‘ Little Tee Whew.’’
In the very thick of the fizz and noise
Tom was the busiest one of the boys ;

But now and then, in the bang and smoke,

He’d think of the words his mother spoke.

Then he’d gravely count his finger-tips,

To make quite sure there were eight, not six.

‘* When one’s so busy,’’ said Little Tee Whew,

‘Jt is almost more than a boy can do

To count eight fingers — and thumbs — one — two.’’
The toy-pistol begged, with a flash and sneeze,

‘« Just one nice little finger, please.’’

‘“No,’’ said Tom; ‘‘ mamma did say,

‘ Don’t break, nor burn, nor blow one away!’ ”’

Down fell a match and set on fire
Tom’s torpedoes, with hot desire
For one fat thumb — but Tom was stout
In saying, ‘‘ No, you must go without.’’
At last, when the rockets blazed at night, -
He fell from the wall, and half in fright,
He counted over his precious store
Of fingers eight, and thumbs, once more.

When he crept to bed in his nightgown small,

And turned his face to the nursery wall,

He sleepily murmured, ‘‘ It seems to me

Boys don’t need more than two or three ;

Dear, dear! ’’ and he fell asleep with the sigh,

**T’m not going to count next Fourth o’ July! ”’

But his mother said, as she smoothed his hair,

“*T’m glad my Little Tee Whew’s all there !’’
it Cora Stuart Wheeler.
IN THE HAY-FIELD.

. Iv was a warm, bright day, and Mr. Baxter was in a hurry to get his
hay in. ; :

‘*O, dear! ’’ said Dick; ‘*I don’t feel like work.”?

“¢ Dick,’’ cried a voice from the field, ‘‘come here!’

‘* Lazy boy,’’ said John. ‘‘ If I hear you say ‘O, dear!’ again ’’
but Dick was gone out of hearing, and it was but a few minutes before his
voice was heard from the field :

‘Oh! oh! what’s that?’’ he shouted. ‘ Look! ”’

And they all did look — even grandmamma came hurrying out to see.

‘© What is it, mother? What is it, John? ’’ cried Dick.

‘* Don’t make so much noise, Dick. It’s a balloon. Don’t you know
a balloon? ’’

‘No; I never saw a liveone before. I mean areal one. Tell me all
about it. How did it get up there? What makes it stay up? Is there
aman init? Will it burst when it comes down? Won’t it kill him? I
should think he’d be scared ’most to death. Why don’t you answer me?’’

‘¢ Which one of your questions shall I answer, Dick? ’’

‘* There, it’s rising — O, no! ’tisn’t— why, all of ’em, to be sure.’’

‘* Well, then, do be silent a minute,’’ said John, ‘‘ and give me a.
chance to speak. It rises because it contains some kind of gas that is
lighter than the common air around us. It will rise till the air becomes.
too light to support it; but when it goes so very high, the man will find it
hard to breathe, and he is glad to come down.”’

‘¢ Then how does he come down? ’’

‘Why, he lets some of the gas escape, and the balloon sinks.”’

‘¢ T should think he’d be scared.’’

‘* He would be, if he could hear all your questions,’’ answered John.

‘* People that never ask questions don’t learn much,’’ said a voice
near them.

‘¢That’s so, Grandma,’’ cried Dick. <‘‘I’ll bet that man up In the
balloon has asked ever so many.’’ Pamela McArthur Cole.
WATCHING THE BALLOON.


BABY’S STORIES.

HE baby sits at the table there
With a pen in her dimpled hand,
And she reads the funny crooked
lines
As if she could understand.
She is ‘‘ writing a ’tory same as
mamma,’’
And she laughs in baby glee ;
If I could read what the baby
writes —
What would the story be?



How the oldest doll was naughty and cross
And left her work undone,
And would not study her lesson-book,
But wasted her time in fun,
And would not mind her little mamma,
But was as naughty as she could be ;
How she went to walk one day on the beach,
And was drowned in the deep blue sea.

How a baby chicken fell one day
Into a little pool ;
And they put him into the dolly’s bed,
And wrapped him in cotton-wool ;
And went on a rocking-horse to town
To bring him the doctor quick,
With bitter powders and little pills,
For the chicken was very sick.


NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

How there was once a little nest
Up in a tall green tree ;
A little straw nest round like a cup,
Just big enough for three —
Three little darling baby birds
In a cosey little heap ;
And the wind rocked the cradle up and down,
And rocked the baby to sleep.



These are the stories the baby writes —
At least I fancy so —
As over and over the blotted page
Her hurrying fingers go.
She sells them to mamma when they’re done.
And what does she get? you say.
A thousand kisses, a heartful of love —
And that is the best of pay !
M. F. Butts.

NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
THE VERSES AUNT NELL WROTE.

Nursz Powex had friends living in the suburbs a few miles. out, and
one afternoon she took Robbie and Lillie Wentworth for a ride on the
street cars, and so went to see her friends.

Grandpa and Aunt Nell were visiting, the Wentworths, so Winnie and
the baby wanted to stay at home with them.

About half-way there, the cars began to run slow. Presently a man
brought out two horses and hitching them to the cars, said :

“* Get up, there! ’’ ;

‘* Of all things,’’ said Nurse Powell. ‘They are carrying us across
this car-track ! ’’
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

“** Doesn’t the Old Giant like to walk on the rails? ’’ asked Lillie.
“He doesn’t care that,’’ said Robbie, snapping his fingers, “ for
iron rails.’’ :

‘* Nor anything else,’’ said Nurse Powell. <‘‘It isn’t that. Can you
tell me, sir,’’ she asked, addressing an elderly gentleman who sat on the
same seat, ‘‘ the meaning of all this?’’ é

He went on to explain that the road, as he called it— meaning
the people who owned this railroad — would not allow wires to be laid
under the track, nor put up over it. In that case the electric cars got no
farther than the
railroad crossing.
The horse-cars ran
across the track,
and the electric
cars began their
route again on the
other side.

Going and com-
ing it was just the
same.

“*Js it breaking
the circuit ?’’ Lil-
lie wanted to know.

Nurse Powell
laughed when Rob-
bie answered be-
fore she could speak, and said there was no circuit
to break. As near as he could make out, the Old
Giant never had anything to walk over along there.
And he was not altogether satisfied with his knowledge about the street
cars, either. It wasn’t. plain to him what made them go. :

He did not like to ask questions of strangers, or he would have talked
with the nice old gentleman, who seemed to understand a great many
things.

He enjoyed the ride, and when he sit to feed his pets that night, he



HE INVITED GRANDPA TO COME OUT.
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

invited Grandpa to come out and talk with him about it. Grandpa said
they would ride over there together some day, and find out all he wanted
to know. Maybe Uncle Jim would go with them.

While they were saying this, Aunt Nell came out. She slipped away,
after learning that Robbie wanted Grandpa to tell him just how the Old
Giant made the street-cars go.

In a few minutes she came back.

‘**«T have written a poem on purpose for you, Robbie,”’ she said, ‘‘ and
I think this is the best time to read it to you.’’

Aunt Nell called her poem

THE DRIVER ROBBIE LIKES.

A driver there is who knows no sway,

If once you give him the right of way;

He’ll run over hills and race through ditches,
Making folks think ’tis the work of witches:
A trolley he uses, but never a whip,

And this he carries on every trip;

He touches a wire above and below —

Fixed to his mind the car has to go;

All right if you humor each eccentricity,

For the driver’s name is Electricity.

When first car-tracks through our streets did run,
*T'was horses that drew the cars, every one;
And the drivers oft a whip did use,

Till women and children would not excuse;
But, as horses’ friends, dida stick forbid;
And, quite content with the work they did,
On street-cars now they would gladly stay,
But this Giant ’s sending them all away.

<¢ Well, well well,’’ mused Grandpa ; ‘‘ that tells the whole story, and
no mistake.’

Aunt Nell passed the paper to her sehen

‘* I shall learn it by heart, and then speak it in school, see if I don’ t,”?
said Robbie, fondling the paper as Lillie would handle her doll.

‘‘ Don’t you tell anybody I wrote it,’’ said-Aunt Nell, a scared look
coming into her bright face; ‘* I did it just for fun.’’

Greta Bryar.


SOME OF TITE CHIEF’S GUESTS.

THE CHIEF AND HIS GUESTS.

Near the ‘‘ Rosebud Agency,’’ in the far West, there was a great
commotion ; all the braves were hastening to the chief’s habitation. As
the good missionary was coming too, it must be a peaceful meeting.

Ever so many kettles of soup were steaming hot, and the savory con-
tents were given to the guests.

Then came the business of the day —a letter was brought out, from
the chief’s little daughter at the Carlisle Indian School.

Enclosed was a picture of the child, and it was gravely and with wonder,
handed from one to the other. The missionary read the letter, which told
A BABY FAIR IMPROMPTU.

what the little girl was learning, and that she was well. Then she wrote:
‘*T have been baptized.’’

‘* What is that? ’’ said the chief.

The missionary explained, then said :

“* Now she is my little sister.’’

*¢ That is good,’’ said the chief.

When the letter was finished, the chief gave each guest several oar
of bright calico, and they went home.







(a
DD Se oh



THE TWO MOTHERS ON THE BEACH.

A BABY FAIR IMPROMPTU.

Tuzy met; ’twas quite by accident,
Yet each was much attracted ;

Their mute amaze piquancy lent,
Words could not have exacted.
THE CHIMNEY-SWALLOWS’ HOME-COMING.

’Twas at Old Orchard Beach I saw
This bit of baby fairing ;

Each had walked forth with much eclat
To give her dear an airing.

The city maid proudly displayed
In car of state Miss Dolly,

In robe of silk and lace arrayed,
And fashion’s latest folly.

The fisher’s child — a cockle shell,
In which there sat right bravely,

A toad who rode his chariot well,
And bore his honors gravely.

With much complacency and pride
She often spoke to ‘‘ Dan’l,”’
Around whose portly form was tied

A bit of scarlet. flannel.

They met; to scorn their wonder grew;
Then they (for both resented) |
Walked home, as all good mothers do,
Each with her own contented.
S. Isadore Miner.

THE CHIMNEY-SWALLOWS’ HOME-COMING.

“Loox, Frances,’’ mamma exclaimed, ‘‘ see the chimney-swallows
coming home to go to bed.”’
_ Frances looked up and saw, in the gathering twilight, a great number
of little birds flying over the top of a near house.

‘¢ Watch them, dear,’’ mamma added, ‘‘ see how they fly around in a
circle. See that one drop into the chimney ; that chimney is their home.”’
THE CHIMNEY-SWALLOWS’ HOME-COMING.

Frances watched these soot-colored little birds until nearly all had gone
into their chimney home.

The swallows flew around in a circle as fast as the eye could follow
them. the little birds could now and then be seen to fall.

By and by the circle spread out. It seemed as though the birds had
lost the chimney. Soon, however, it would be seen, and making a turn
the birds would come over it again and down into it would go a few more.

The birds grew tired going around the same way. So off they flew to
a distance. Making a turn, they came back and flew around the chimney
the other way. Many more birds this time dropped into the chimney.

Frances thinking the chimney could not hold all the birds in it, said :

‘‘Oh! mamma, the garret must be full by this time.’’ The flying
circle, however, seemed as large and dark with birds as at any time.

Again the birds became confused. The circle slowly went higher and
higher, when they would try to drop into the chimney, they would miss it.

The birds certainly agreed now that something must be done so they
could get into their home. So away they flew from the house to turn
themselves again, so that they could fly around the chimney in the direc-
tion they had first done. _

There were no other houses near the one the birds were flying over.
In returning the birds came back and flew downwards, then upwards, so as
to make a slanting circle. One side was low, the other much higher in the
air. The lowest portion of the circle was over the mouth of the chimney.

This proved a splendid plan for the little birds. They coasted down
the sloping side of the circle on their wings, just as a boy would slide down
a hill on his sled, and tumbled into the chimney by dozens. In less than
two minutes nearly every bird had ridden down this slanting circle into the
chimney and jumped into their beds. Not more than ten stragglers
remained out.

As the little girl turned away, mamma said:

‘* What a chirping and chattering there will be in that chimney before
' the birds drop off to sleep. They will tell each other what they have been
doing to-day, and what nice fat beetles and bugs they had to eat.

Wm. Arch. McClean.










































































































































































































































































i}
i /* i
i)



















‘YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!”


UNDER FULL SAIL,
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
AN AUGUST PARTY.

LTHOUGH Georgina’s Sunday-school teacher
had no children of her own, she gave a
children’s party. To it she invited Geor-
gina and Dolly. |

‘¢ There will be some real nice girls and’
boys there,’’ she said.
*¢Q, suds! ’’ said Dolly wien she had gone,
‘* there are going to be boys there.’

‘« Never mind,’’ said Georgina, ‘‘ some boys are
quite nice. Besides, anybody can pretend they don’t
see them, if they want to.”’

‘* Well, when I get there, if there are lots of
boys, and they look big, I shall stay in the hall,’
said Dolly.

**O, please don’t,’’ entreated Georgina. ‘‘ If

AT THE WKLNG POOR yoy do you'll want me to stay with you. You’d
better not go at all, than do that.’’

66 Nes you hadn’t; when you don’t go to parties yeu don’t get any ice-
cream,’’ replied Dolly.

On the party day Mr. Pettitt drove to the house of the hostess, leaving
the children, with a kiss apiece, on the horse-block. Georgina dreaded,
as she went up the steps, to ring the bell. But Mrs. Howitt saved her the
trouble by opening the door before they got to it. It was a screen-door.

They went shyly in and were shown a very pretty room, where they
took off their hats and shook out their perfumed handkerchiefs. Dolly had
put three kinds of perfumery on hers.

When they got to the door of the parlor Dolly hung back. Georgina
explained that she was afraid of strangers.

‘¢ Why are ‘you afraid of strangers, Dolly? ’’ said Mrs. Howitt.







A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

“¢T am, if I don’t know them,’’ replied Dolly. But when she had been
gently ied in she saw many familiar faces and soon forgot her fear.

They played many lovely games. Mrs. Howitt played with them
exactly as if she were little, too.

There was one boy there named Alexander. He had a sweet sister not
much larger than Dolly. Perhaps Mrs. Howitt invited Alexander on ac-
count of this sister, for he was too rude to be pleasant at a party. He
snatched the little girls’ pocket-handkerchiefs away from them, and tried to
pull chairs out from under the boys. Mrs. Howitt had to speak to him
about it. She told him that he must never pull a chair from under any-
body, for it was very dangerous. People have been crippled for life in that
way, and even killed.

Florence Golden was at the party, and Dolly asked her why her sister
Sibyl did not come. Florence replied that Sibyl’s kindergarten teacher
had called, just as they were ready to start, and Sibyl had to wait to
see her.

‘* But I should think she would come before this time,’’ said Florence.
‘« It’s more than time enough.’’

‘* Why, here she comes,’’ said Georgina, looking out the window,
** and your mother’s with her. Was your mother invited, too?’

‘No, she wasn’t,’’ answered Florence; ‘‘I wonder what made her
come.’”’

Florence, Georgina and Dolly ran into the hall just as Mrs. Golden led
Sibyl in. Mrs. Howitt also went to meet them.

‘* Why, Sibyl,’’ exclaimed Mrs. Howitt, ‘‘ I was afraid you were not
coming.’’

Sibyl looked embarrassed and Mrs. Howitt noticed that her eyes were
quite red. Mrs. Golden smiled and shook her head at Mrs. Howitt, and
when Sibyl had gone into the parlor she told the story of her little girl’s
mishap.

It seems that when her caller had gone, she ran as quickly as possible
to get her hat and go to the party. But in her haste she went to the
house next to the party-house, which was not strange, as Mrs. Howitt lived
in a block of houses, all precisely alike. She rang the bell and a lady
whom she slightly knew came to the door, invited her in and gave her a
A. DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
seat in the parlor. Then the lady talked to her kindly, wondering what a
five-year-old girl could want. It was some time before Sibyl could get
courage to ask: cet

‘¢Ts this the party’s house ? ’’

But it was not long before she ran away when she learned it was not.
Poor Sibyl! Weeping,
she told her mamma her
awful mistake. And as
soon as her tears were
dried, her mamma took
her to the ‘‘party’s
house,’’ which was not far
away.

If you could have seen
the table set for those
happy little people, you
would have wanted to be
one of them. The good
things looked so tempt-
ing, and at each plate was
set a tiny vase of glass,
shaped like a barrel, and
holding a lovely flower
and a slip of geranium.

I once heard of a little
boy who went to a party
and had chocolate cake,
cocoa-nut cake, pound
cake, and fruit cake, and when he got home he had stomach- ache. But
Mrs. Howitt’s healthful, good things made nobody sick. However, in
his eagerness to get some of them Alexander got hurt. They marched
out in pairs, but Alexander, getting in a hurry, ran ahead and seized
another boy’s chair. The boy hung on, as he had a right to do, and Alex-
ander actually tried to kick him — before all those nice little people, too.
But missing his mark he struck his toe on the chair-leg and cried like a



DOLLY IS AFRAID OF STRANGERS.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

nine-year-old baby. You will always find that people willing to hurt
others, make a great fuss when they are hurt themselves.

The children, on going home, told Mrs. Howitt they had had a lovely
time. Dolly declared when she got home that it was more than lovely —it
was ‘‘ perkly lovely.’’ ‘‘ But that Augazander, he acted awful,’’ she said.

‘Yes, he truly did, mamma,’’ said Georgina. ‘‘ If my father was as
rich as anything, I would be ashamed to act like he does.’’

‘Being rich makes no difference,’ said Mrs. Pettitt. ‘* Children
should be polite whether their fathers are rich or poor.’’

‘¢ Of course, I know that, mamma,’’ answered Georgina. ‘‘ But it
seems as if bad actions show off more in rich folks.’’ ;

That night, after they were tucked away and had said ‘‘ Good-night ’’
for the last time, Dolly suddenly spoke :

‘« Georgina, that Augazander is terrible to butterflies. Helen. South-
colt says so.’’

‘‘Is he? To dear little butterflies! What does he do?’’

‘* Why, he catches them in his hat and sits on the hat.’’

Mrs. George Archibald.




‘* Cur! cut!’’ said the biddy-hen,

** Cut! cut! as I walk about;

Ca-dar-cut ! ca-dar-cut !

I’ve something to talk about.
Now who’s done the best ?
Just look in my nest,

In my nest in that keg
There’s a fine yellow ege

Cut! cut! as I walk about
I’ve something to talk about.’’

“* Quit! quit! ’’ said the tur-
key-hen,
“* Quit! quit! What a bluster !
One egg isn’t worth all that
Flurry and fluster ;
I’ve a nest full of eggs
Where nobody can find them,
I laid them, and hid them,
And know how to mind them. I
Time enough to be proud A
When for chicks you are ‘Al
scratching, Ne De
And talking so loud AN ae
May be bad for the hatch- “alee

rl Wy) ah
ing.”’ VW.

Sarah E. Howard.




IF I WERE A HORSE.

Ir I were to be a horse and could have my choice, of all the horses I
ever saw I should like to be one of those huge, solid truck-horses of which
’ England is so proud.

I often watched a dray-man in one of the suburbs of London, who, Iam
sure, thought more of his two great horses than he thought of himself, or
anything else in the world. And they seemed to think just as much of him.

They were very fond of lemonade, and many a warm day I saw the
driver stop at a stand opposite my window and purchase a pint dipperful,
giving a half to each horse and going thirsty himself. They.would curl
their great lips about and drink from the dipper just like a man and just as
carefully. The one to drink last would tip his head farther and farther
back till the driver was standing on tip-toe, holding the dipper to his lips,
to drain the last drop.

Sometimes I passed them while all three were at lunch, and one and
then the other horse would turn from his grain for a bite of whatever the
driver was eating. They were especially fond of meat. I thought it a
very strange appetite too; afterward, in Arabia, I saw the Bedouins feed-
ing their best horses almost entirely: on meat when they were working
hard. es

One of these truck-horses had a long, heavy Touetache. of which the
driver, at least, was very proud and careful. It is quite common among a
certain breed of those English truck-horses.

The driver told me he had worked with those same horses every day
but Sundays for more than sixteen years, and that if they sho} Id die he
should give up his business. ‘

I often think of those two broad-chested giants; how easily} the driver
controlled them, how quietly he spoke to them and never used awhip, and
yet what enormous loads they would pull for him. : et

I should not like to be treated as horses often are in America, but if I
were to be a horse I am sure my choice would be one of those great truck-
horses- Warren H. Frych.











AN OLD-FASHIONED CRADLE AT THE WORLD’S FAIR.

Now, girls and boys, when you
see all the toys
That are shown at the great
World’s Fair,
Pray hunt up a cradle, a dear
little cradle,















y, / An old-fashioned cradle
BZUGLALAALMLLE that’s there. :
THE CRADLE IN WHICH JOHN QUINCY ADAMS wae And look at it well, sO that you
ROCKED. j may tell

The people who do not know
How cradles were made in which babies were laid
A long, long time ago.

This one is of wood, all strong and good ;
It has lasted for many a day,

‘And will always be treasured, while time is measured,
For in it a President lay.

Can you tell me his name? It is linked with fame —
His father was President, too ;

And the Old Bay State had the honor great
Of giving these statesmen two.

Won’t' I tell it? Why, yes, if you’re sure you can’t guess ;
It was John Quincy Adams, good man,
Who was rocked in this cradle, this old-fashioned cradle,
When its history began.
And his children too, and all babies new,
That into that family came,
With their laughter and tears, for a hundred years,
Were rocked in it just the same.
Julia Anna Wolcott.
ALICE’S CAT.

Miss Axice loves me,
: But if [ were she
And had a kitten as white as milk,
I would give her this house of lace and silk,
Round as a ball and light as a
feather,
To keep her dry. in rainy
weather. es

4

There are plenty of cats
Who go hunting rats,
With noses keen and well-
sharpened nails, °
And ‘see just the tips of their
flying tails, :
‘Then sit and watch all day for
their dinners
Or go without, which is hard
; for beginners.

I sleep in the house,
And eat chicken, not
mouse ;
No kit can show more velvety
“paws,
A butterfly couldn’t feel the claws ;
Well, some must work while others are thinking ;
I can do that when I’m dozing and winking.



THE HOUSE OF LACE AND SILK.

Louis Hall.
A STRANGE SORT OF BUNNY.

HER QUESTION IN MULTIPLICATION.

‘*'T'wo and two, and two and two,
You know,’’ I said, ‘* make eight ;

How would you this question write
Upon your little slate? ’’

** Why, just as easy,’’ laughed Louise,
Her pencil sharp in hand,

** Four would be the multiplier,
Two the multiplicand.’’

‘What else ?’’ I gently prompted,
As she the figures drew ;
**Oh! eight would be the product
Then, of these numbers, two.’’ Beth Gray.



A STRANGE SORT OF BUNNY.

“« Dip you ever see a lop-eared rabbit? ”’

I imagine I hear you say, ‘‘ But what is a lop-eared rabbit ? ’”’

‘* Why, it is a rabbit with very long ears,’’ [ answer.

Then you exclaim, ‘‘ But don’t all rabbits have very long ears? ’’.

Then you force me to admit that they certainly do. However, there
are some rabbits whose very long ears are very much longer than other
rabbits’ very long ones — and this is the breed to which I refer. It is an
old English fancy variety which has been cultivated for nearly a century,
and some of its number actually have ears that measure twenty-three —
inches from tip to tip, and exceed six inches in width. Think of it!

So you see this particular sort, or breed of Bunny, is not inappropri-
ately called the Lop-eared Rabbit.

Clarence C. Converse.
THE STORY OF ESTOKEE.

Kstoxee sat in the chair in Miss Ray’s house.

Kistokee is the little Indian who lives in the funny home you see in the
picture. It is called a hogan; it is made of sticks and mud, and the hole
in the top is the chimney. The Indians, little and big, sit on the floor
around the fire in the middle of the hogan.

But Estokee liked the chairs better. He had forgotten how frightened
he was when he first saw the two ladies who had come to teach the In-



ESTOKEE’S FUNNY HOME —A HOGAN,

dians. He had never seen anybody white like us. He did not know
before that any other people lived in the world but Indians.

Now he loved these white people.

‘‘T want to stay all night,’’ he said, as he swung his little feet and
looked at his mother and Miss Ray.

‘*1’m afraid he will cry for you if he stays,’’ said Miss Ray.
THE STORY OF ESTOKEE.’

But Estokee shook his head. : ‘‘ Are you sure you want to stay? ’’ his
mother asked.

“© On, on,’’ he said, and that was his Indian word for ‘‘ yes.”’

So his mother left him and went home to her hogan.

Estokee was a dear, merry little Indian, seven years old. He chattered
away in his own language; Miss Ray gave him some buttons and a thread
and he strung a great necklace and put it on. ‘‘I, Indian Chief,’’ he said.

Mrs. Elder went out to cut up wood for kindling. ‘‘I cut wood,”’
he said in his own way. And he helped her.

When they came into the house, the lamp was lighted.

Estokee clapped his hands. He had never seen a lamp. ‘‘ Pretty!
Pretty !’’ he said, walking around and around.

‘¢ This is where we shall put a plate for your little sister when she
comes with you,”’ said Miss Ray as she set the table.

“¢ On, on,’’ cried Estokee, and laughed.

When he sat down to the table he bent his little head with them while
they asked a blessing, and watched them and tried to eat as they did.

When they rose, he said, ‘‘ A-ka-he,’’ which means ‘Thank you.’’

When he went to bed he wondered at the white sheets. “*My bed so
“soft,’’ he said.

The dog, J: ack, came and lay one at his feet. His dog slept outside.

After this, little Estokee came many times to see his white friends.

Frances C. Sparhawk.



ALL READY FOR A NAP.
Mi

MM i |
Sty

bow



A STRANGE SORT OF BUNNY.
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.
THE HOUSE HE BUILT.

‘« Do pianos ever play by themselves?’’ Winnie Wentworth asked
his sister Lillie. . ies ee

‘* No,”’ said Lillie. She was reading, and did not feel like answering
questions. : :

‘‘ Not when you see them in shop windows, waiting to be looked at?’?
said Winnie.

““ No,’’ said Lillie, <‘not when you see them anywhere. Pianos can-
not play themselves. Don’t talk to me any more, Winnie,’’ she added.

‘* Well,’’ said Winnie, not heeding her remark, ‘‘ Uncle J im’s littlest
boy went down town with me, and he knows where there’s a piano that
plays by itself. It’s in a window, and we went to see it.’’

‘OQ, Winnie Wentworth! I shall tell mamma not to let you go with.
Uncle Jim’s little boy any more. He’s a naughty boy, for he tells wrong
stories. A piano playing by itself ! ’’

‘* I’m ashamed of you, Lillie,’’ said Nurse Powell, coming into the
room. And by this time the little girl was ashamed of herself. And to
be ashamed of one’s self is to be punished indeed. N. o one likes that.

‘* Pianos do play by themselves,’’ said Nurse; “that is, there are
electrical pianos, which means the same thing.’’

‘“And somebody does play them,’’ said Robbie, “after all. The
Old Giant.’’

‘* You told me that,’’ said Lillie, ‘* when the black pigs ran into the
flock of little chicks as soon as they came out of the incubator.’’ Lillie
was making hard work of being sweet-tempered again.

‘Told you the Old Giant was playing a piano when the black pigs
ran out and scared the chickens. O, Lillie! ’’ said Robbie, clucking
like a hen. ;

‘*Let’s go out and meet the cows,’’ said Winnie, jumping up.. The
sound made him think he was inside the farmyard gate. The children
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

had good times on Grandpa’s farm, and they always went there on their
way home from the shore.

‘*No; you didn’t say that. But you told me the Old Giant hatched -
out all the eggs Grandpa put in his incubator. But I think the little
fluffy chickens had a’

hen for a mother, and
‘not the Old Giant and
the incubator.’’

‘¢ They didn’t,’’
said Robbie, shaking
his head.

«« Another thing,”
said Lillie, ‘‘ you said
like as not if I took
up one of the little
fluffy chickens, and
kissed it on the end
of its bill, I might
get served as Uncle
Jim’s man did when
he tried to pick up
‘the car wire that fell
down.”’ ,
‘¢ How did he get ©
served ?’’ asked Win-
nie.

‘¢ The Old Giant’s
breath ran right over him the minute ie touched ie wire. It always
does after he has breathed through a wire they put up.’

“Well, I don’t think the Old Giant hatched out the little flutty
chickens,’’ persisted Lillie.



‘¢ Lillie, Lillie, quite cantrary,
How did the chickens grow ?
There isn’t a hen on Grandpa’s farm,
Only a tame black crow.”
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

‘Go along, Robbie,’’ laughed Nurse Powell, who had been minding
the baby, and allowing the children to talk in this strain longer than she
would if their talk had not been about the Old Giant. ‘* How long have
you been making rhymes? ’’

Robbie laughed, and said that all sorts of rhymes had been going
through his head since Aunt Nell made up the poetry about the Old Giant,
and his being the driver of the street-cars. ;

‘And no wonder,’’ said Nurse Powell, getting up to arrange the
peacock feathers over the mantel piece. They brought home great
bunches from Grandpa’s farm. He kept peacocks, but, as Robbie said,
there was not a hen anywhere about.

‘‘T wish you had a nice glass of fresh milk now,’’ she said, sitting
down between Lillie and Robbie. The peacock feathers made her think of
a good many things out at the farm. Milk, and pigs, and roses. There
were lovely roses at Bramble Farm.

‘* We'll have some Thanksgiving,’’ said Robbie.

They expected to spend Thanksgiving on the farm as regularly as
Thanksgiving came.

‘‘ Not this year,’’ said Nurse Powell. And the Wenworth children
wanted to know why.

‘* Because we’re going to see the house the Old Giant built! And
your Uncle Jim’s folks are going with us.’’

‘* What do you mean, Nurse Powell? ’’ said Lillie.

**Oh!”’ said Nurse Powell, with a roguish twinkle in her eye, ‘‘ there
isn’t any use to tell you. You distrust the Old Giant. You don’t believe
he hatched out Grandpa’s chickens, for all you know your Uncle Jim is in
league with him.’’

And by that Nurse Powell meant that Uncle Jim was an electrician.
He was Grandpa’s son, too. And so Grandpa’s house had all the best
things Uncle Jim could think of, and that he knew the Old Giant could
help him about. The city folks when they went out there, could hardly
believe what their eyes saw. No wonder Lillie was astonished.

‘*T wish you’d tell,’’ said Robbie.

‘ Well,’’ said Nurse Powell, getting up, and going over to see to the
baby, ‘‘ we’re all going down to my brother Roland’s.”’
NURSE POWELL’S GIANT.

Robbie ran to Nurse Powell, and flinging his arms around her neck,
burst out crying. ;

She picked the big boy up, and carried him over to where they had
been sitting, as easy as she would have carried the baby.

‘* Are you so sorry as that?’’ said Nurse.

Robbie seized hold of her arm.

‘* Nurse Powell,’’ he said, ‘‘ I’m crying because I’m so glad, and I
don’t feel ashamed about it, either.’’

‘“You must never do anything that will make you feel ashamed,’’
she said.

“ that house was your brother, until Uncle Jim told Grandpa about it.’’

‘* Well,’’ said Nurse Powell, ‘‘he is,’’ and she seemed to feel very
proud that he was, so the children thought.

But Nurse Powell was very unhappy when her brother commenced his
house. People said at first that it was a wild scheme. He had been
about it a good many years. And when he began, folks were not very

_well acquainted with the Old Giant. But Nurse Powell’s brother has
spent all his life studying and learning his ways. Now he is going to
have a house and let the Old Giant take care of it. He will close the
doors, and throw them open — the house doors, the oven doors; and when
it is time to go to sleep, the Old Giant will let down the beds; for in
Nurse Powell’s brother Roland’s house, the beds will seem like a partition
in the day-time. But at night you touch a little button, which is telling
the Old Giant that you are ready to retire, and down falls your bed.

Robbie had heard about the house, but Lillie had not. The thought
of going into it overcame him, he was so intense in his nature, especially
where the Old Giant Electricity was concerned.

They talked about it until ten o’clock.

At last Nurse Powell put them to bed, tucked them up, and left them.
But they didn’t go to sleep very quickly.

Robbie was wishing, but Lillie was saying over to herself, ‘«I wish
to-morrow was Thanksgiving, so we could all go down to the house Nurse
Powell’s Giant built.’’ 3

Greta Bryar.
DOLLS AND DOLLS.

Can you make paper dolls? I am sure you
can; but did you ever see areal rag doll? Our
- grandmothers used to pet and love them, ~
when they were little girls. That was
because it was so hard, then, to obtain
any other kind of dolls. Now there are
dolls and dolls. Every little girl has lots
of them, and every store where dolls are

KW A a \\ sold has hundreds of them.
: Aa Did you ever wonder where they all
NX come from and how they all come to be ?
REN ee Ee hea Most of the dolls are made in France

and Germany, or by. French and German workmen in America.

To make a china doll the head is first modeled in clay, just as-a
sculptor makes a bust. The clay heads are then put into great ovens.
Sometimes five thousand are put into a single oven, and there are great doll
factories in Germany that have thirty of these immense ovens all going
at the same time.

When the ovens
are full the furnaces
are set at work, and
for seven days and
nights the fires are
kept up, to turn
the clay into china.
‘Every moment they
are watched with the
greatest care —all day and all night
— for the slightest mistake will spoil
every one. And after all this care it
often happens that only one in five comes out a perfect china doll’s head.

Then they are colored and painted and given their bright eyes and pretty




MAKING THEIR BRIGHT EYES AND PRETTY CHEEKS.
DOLLS AND DOLLS.

cheeks and rosy lips; after which the heads are fitted to bodies and
packed in boxes. And then these dolls are sent all over the world, to be-
sold to mammas to be dressed for little girls. i!

A wax doll’s head is made in two hollow ieee
parts of plaster of Paris. The eyes and nose
and mouth are carved out
with a knife, the two parts
are stuck together, and then
the head is dipped in hot
wax or a preparation made
from petroleum, and _ set
away to cool and harden.
Then the artist works upon
them with his paints and
tiny brushes and the hair-dresser takes his turn. At last the heads are
carefully sewed to bodies that have been prepared for them, and the wax
: os : dolls, too, are ready to be dressed.
When. they will open and shut
their eyes there are still other
workmen required, and thou-
sands of men and women are kept
busy, year after year, making the
thousands and thousands of dolls
that go into Christmas stockings
and in many other ways find
a path for themselves into the
homes of little girls.

. This is where the dolls come
from and how they come to be.
But another thing to wonder
about is where they all go to,
and what becomes of them all.
Did you ever think of that?
For if something did not happen to them this world of ours would surely
have been packed full of dolls, long, long ago.



SEWING WITH CARE.



PUTTING THE HEAD TOGETHER.

\


THE DAY OF BATTLE DAWNED.

HOW THEY WON THE BATTLE.

Tury were the famous Minute-men ;
They marched up and down;

For many a day, they held at bay,
The foe in Boston Town.

They stood their ground at Concord Bridge,
Like sires of loyal fame ;

They waited long at Lexington,
But not a Red Coat came.
HOW THEY WON THE. BATTLE. .

They held the heights of Bunker Hill,
And with defiant shout,
Dared King George then, and all his men,
To capture the redoubt.

But when the day of battle dawned,
And hope of peace had fled,

With martial din the troops marched in,

_ And fortified the shed.

The gunner, at his gun, stood fast ;
The swordsman smiled at fate ;

The bugler, too, his loudest blew ;
The guardsman held the gate.

‘¢ They come! the hated Red Coats come! ”’
The general loudly cries ;

«¢ Aim low! Don’t fire until you see
The white spots in their eyes! ’’

And every valiant Minute-man —
Stood firmly at his post ;

No cowards here, no sign of fear
In all the mighty host.

But for the boasting Britishers —
Full sorry was their plight,

For oh! they say, that awful day
They ran before the fight.

Emma Huntington Nason.


A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
THE INTERSTATE FAIR.

AM afraid it wouldn’t be wise to go to-day,”’
said Mrs. Pettitt, looking at the sky.

*¢ Let’s go if it isn’t wise,’’ said
Dolly ; ‘‘I never went only to free or
four fairs.’’

‘Well, isn’t that almost a plenty
for a girl only five last month? ’’ asked
her mother.

‘*T suppose it will be when she’s
been to this,’’ said Mr. Pettitt.
“* Let us risk it.’’

Georgina, who had been looking ©
anxious, but saying little, brightened,
and both girls were in high spirits as
they saw their mother get the lunch-

LEE ies Se Hea a basket ready and felt that doubt was
at an end. And the sunshine in the
faces of the children more than made up for the lack of it out doors.

No wonder little people like to go to fairs when so many big people
cannot stay away. The grounds were crowded when the Pettitts drove in,
and the noise of the shoutings, and various kinds of music, filled the hearts
of Georgina and Dolly with joy that would have been perfect, except for
the perplexity of trying to hear, at the same time, what the museum man,
the yeast man and the pain-killer man were saying.

Mr. Pettitt tied ‘‘ Colonel’’ in a safe place, leaving his family near
the stove-hall while he was gone. They stepped to the entrance door and
looked in while they waited, and whom should they see but the Ruther-
ford twins sitting on a stove hearth to rest.

The twins had been through the main hall before and knew what


A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

would -probably most interest their friends. And they led the way to the
ice-cream making machine, thé incubator full of cunning, downy chicks,
_ the booths where they could get tiny cups of chocolate, and tea from beef-
extract, free, and to the wonderful automatic doll. This doll was an
_ elegantly-dressed image, and sat in a chair playing a tambourine which she
struck on her elbow, and knee, and shook till its tiny bells jingled again..



DRINKING CHOCOLATE AT THE FAIR.

Then she would hold a black mask befor her face with her left hand, and
peep through it at the speétators, quite roguishly. It was hard to con-
vince the. children, even after they had looked at it a good while, that they
had examined it long enough.

Another great attraction was the stuffed twin calves, who were joined
together at the neck. The Rutherfords were glad all twins were not
like that.

‘< Tt must seem funny to be twins anyhow,’’ said Georgina.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

“‘T fink it would be nice to have some twin sisters, though,’’
said Dolly.

‘¢Mamma said Blanche cried when she first saw us,’’ said Ruth.
Blanche was big sister to the twins.

‘‘Didshe? I should think she would liked you,’’ said Georgina.

‘*She did,’’ said Anna. ‘‘ But she didn’t know you could buy a baby
carriage for twins, and she cried because she didn’t want to leave the |
other one when she took one of us to ride.’’ ;

- The Rutherfords did not stay long. They had been at the fair one day
already and were only down for a little while on their way home to
Pixburg. :

After they were gone, the Pettitts decided to go to the stables and
see the horses, intending to return to the main-hall to get their lunch.
On their way they noticed that it sprinkled slightly, and they had been in
the stables but a few minutes when they could hear the rain pouring upon
the roof.

They hoped it would stop. And it did next day. But for that day
and all night long it came down in torrents. They were safe enough, and
dry, in the stables, but after they had looked at all the big horses and
little horses they were discouraged to see that neither water-proofs nor
umbrellas could save them from a drenching if they should venture out.
They were hungry, too, and their lunch was in the main-hall.

‘* Such a fair as this, isn’t fair, is it?’’ said Mr. Pettitt.

But it might have been worse. One of the horsemen offered them the
use of the little room where he slept, which was quite snug and neat, and
the horseman’s wife shared an excellent lunch with them. And the chil-
dren were quite interested in the pictures tacked on the walls, represent-
ing horses doing all sorts of remarkable feats. Besides, they received a
letter. They would not have received it so’soon, because their papa was
not a very prompt postman, if Dolly had not fished it out of his pocket in
a restless search for entertainment.

*¢ Why, here’s a letter ’at isn’t open,’’ she said.

‘*T declare! ’’ exclaimed Mr. Pettitt, « letter. I was in the post-office last night, and the carrier saw me and
gave it to me.”’
THE SUM OF IT ALL.

It was from Mrs. Townville to Mrs. Pettitt, and in it was a letter from
little Carl Townville to the girls. It said:

DrEsR GEORGINA AND DOLLY: :

I am in the house and will write a little letter to thoes who can-read boy’s letters. boys
cannot rite and noboudy can read it. my letter is about some old-clothes-men I. saw on the sec-
ond-hand close street, so I can’t wast time telling anything else. The first thing about old-
close-men they are pretty fat. and have a bump on their nose. they have quite big eyes and they
chew gum quite offen. they are not very tidy. they have big heads, and some of them
smoke, too, and most always they are saying something. I guess I’ll close my letter now, be-
case mamma is going to read us a story, and I will have to get in bed.

CarL TOWNVILLE.

Mrs. Townville said this was Carl’s first letter, and the Pettitts
thought it uncommonly amusing from a boy younger than Georgina.

After the letters were read, nothing more happened until Mr. Pettitt
told them they would have to go home, rain or no rain, for water was cov-
ering the grounds and the walks were all afloat. At this news they
resolved to start, and bundling up as best they could, they rode home
through a steady, heavy storm, and all were pretty wet when they got
there. :

‘*T believe it wasn’t’ wise to go,’’ said Georgina, ‘‘ we couldn’t hardly
get any chance to see.’’

‘¢ We got plenty of chance to see horses,’’ said Dolly.

Mrs. George Archibald.

THE SUM OF IT ALL.

Tue boy that by addition grows,
And suffers no subtraction, |
Who multiplies the thing he knows,
And carries every fraction ;
Who well divides his precious time,
The due proportion giving,
To sure success aloft will climb,
Interest compound receiving. Anon.
MY DOGS AND THEIR WAYS. — FLOSSIE.

I HAVE owned in all eight
dogs. The first one, a little
white poodle, was named Flos-
sie. Flossie was as white as
snow, with eyés as black as,
coals. She was very unwilling
to be washed and combed, so
when she saw her tub and towel
‘she would run and hide; but
after she had taken her bath,
no happier dog could be found.

We used to give her candy
wrapped in the paper, and then
watch her open the package,



FLOSSIE.

which she did with her paws and teeth.

One day I went away and left Flossie. She cried for a long time after
I had gone, when all of a sudden she ran upstairs, took my apron from a
chair, brought it down into the sitting-room and laid her little head on it.

There was a little girl in our family, and Flossie used to borrow the
toys and dolls from her playhouse, but she never returned them. She
would carry them out on the lawn and leave them there.

One day a man was at work in our garden pruning bushes. After
watching him awhile, Flossie thought she would help about the garden,
so she busied herself by taking the small branches in her mouth and carry~
ing them out to the burning pile as if to say, ‘
One cold winter day the dear little thing went to see a playmate and
never returned. In crossing the railroad an engine struck her, and she
was killed instantly. . :

In our grove there is a little white stone, and on the stone is the name
‘* Flossie.’’? Each year on Decoration Day the children come and lay
flowers on Flossie’s little grave. : H. A. Adams,


































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































IN UNCLE NED’S BLACKSMITH SHOP.


HOW MASTER FROG LOST HIS DINNER.

A TRUE STORY.

THERE was once a bird who lived with a kind lady in a pretty cottage
in sunny Florida. This bird had a beautiful gold-colored cage, but he
was so tame that his mistress opened the door every day and allowed him
to hop out into the room and fly about wherever he chose. He even went
as far as the fountain in front of the cottage and drank and bathed in its
basin. :

In a pool not far away lived a bull-frog, a big, ugly locking fellow
with a croak in his throat. Now, frogs never cook their dinners, and
more than that, they swallow them whole and alive, and tender little birds
and fat young mice are especially pleasing to them. One morning when
our little bird, his name was Pert, had taken his bath and was hopping
about on the edge of the basin, the frog who had been watching him from
the other side of the fountain, popped up out of the water, opened his
mouth and swallowed him head first, leaving only his tail feathers sticking
out ; but not before Pert had given a shrill cry of fright. It was dark and
moist inside the frog and Pert did not like it at all, and struggled hard to
get free. : :

His mistress hearing the cry and commotion rushed out of the
cottage, and seeing what had happened, picked up Master Frog and
squeezed him so hard that he was obliged to open his mouth. Dandy, the
dog, followed his mistress and when she made the frog open his mouth he
seized the bird by his tail feathers and pulled him out, but alas! he was
so very energetic that the feathers came too. Poor little Pert was pert
no longer, for it was a very forlorn and dilapidated little bird that Miss
Alice picked up and carried into the house, while Dandy barked ‘I
helped! I helped! ”’

As for Master Frog, he was very much astonished and likewise very
much disappointed over Pert’s escape, for he had never lost a dinner
before after it was once in his mouth. And more than all that, the


HOW MASTER FROG LOST HIS DINNER.

lady whipped him soundly before putting him down and telling him to
‘< go home.”’ a
‘ It was rather hard too, for, after all, he was only getting his living’ in
the only way he knew.
Pert, poor fellow, was stripped almost bare of feathers, and the few
that were left had all been rubbed the wrong way.
He looked so funny and felt so cold that his mistress put his cage ina
sunny corner and there he staid, never asking to go out until covered with

a fresh new coat.
Mabel Elwell.




















































































































































































































































































































































































































A a JN ee ON RK
we Ha A) ASR
ficial hae We Sed ay: ARON ey

MOTHER DEER IS UN THE ALERT FOR DANGER.
OUR LITTLE ORDERLY.

Tus little fellow climbing over the fence is a little Indian. He has
been running, and is hot; he was afraid he should be late.

But he is not, and he laughs as he runs up to the office door in the
great building and sits down on the bench outside.

By and by a man comes out of the office. ‘‘ Orderly! ’’ he calls loudly.

Up jumps our little Indian boy, Bruce. He is the orderly. He lifts
his cap and stands ready to carry the note or the message for the man and _
bring back the answer; ‘‘ orderly ’’ means a messenger in the army.

When Bruce has done this errand, somebody else will give him another
message; he will run off with it and bring back the.answer; and so he
will run back and forth until the great bell strikes at noon.

Then he is ‘‘ off duty.’’ In the afternoon he goes to school, and the
rest of the day he may run and play as he likes. He loves ball and the
other games with the children on the lawn before thé office. i

Would you like to know how he came to be an orderly ?

One day the superintendent who has charge of all the Indians looked
-down and: found this little fellow close beside him.

‘* Well, what do you want, little Bruce ?’’ he asked.

‘*T want to work like the other boys and be a man,’’ said Bruce.

‘* What can you do?’’ asked the superintendent, and he laughed.

‘* T be orderly,’’ said little Bruce.

‘¢Oh! you’re too small,’’ said the other.

‘*.No; you try me,’’ said Bruce.

And they did try him. And everybody liked the dear little orderly.

Did you think, my dear little readers, that all the Indian children
painted their faces and wore feathers in their hair ?

No, indeed. Thousands of Indian boys and girls go to school every
day, and study in the same books that you do. Our little Bruce is one
of these. And they love Our Livre Men anp Women as well as you do,
and watch for it every month. “>

Frances C. Sparhawk.


OUR LITTLE ORDERLY.
A VACATION ACCIDENT.

A VACATION ACCIDENT.

ESSICA JINKLEY, down by the sea,
Was shoveling sand in a pail.



Up jumped Jessie, a crab she saw,

With rounded back and many a
claw ;

Away in a great surprise she ran,

And met at his boat a fisherman.

‘¢T didn’t mean to, truly,’’ said she,
“Do you care? I’ve dug up a
whale !’’
G. S. DL.



DOWN BY THE SEA.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA.

T must have rained to that fair, too,’’ said Dolly.
She was looking at some souvenir pictures of
the Columbian Exposition and noticed the water-
ways.
“¢Jt isn’t rain makes that,’’ said Georgina.
‘« They built the buildings by the water on pur-
pose.’”’
‘‘What did they for?’’ asked Dolly, re-
garding the beautiful illustrations with interest.
‘*T suppose because Columbus discovered
America on the water,’’ said Georgina.
‘¢ Why, did he? What is America?’
<< Tt’s where you live. Not Queenton, I
don’t mean, but like this room is ‘in the house,
and the house is in the yard, and the yard’s
in Queenton, just the same, Queenton’s in New
York State, and New York State is in the United
States, and the United States ’s in America.’’
‘Yes, that’s so,’’ said Dolly, ashamed to own she did not understand
it a mite.
‘* Was C’lumbus alive when he discovered America?’’ she asked
presently.
“*Q, yes! or he couldn’t have done TGeae
‘‘That’s so. I forgot. But now he’s dead, isn’t he? ”?
“¢ Yes, Dolly. He’s very dead. You can’t think how dead he is!
Why, he’s been dead four hundred years and buried three times.’’
‘¢Yes; I should fink that would kill a said Dolly. ‘* What is
when you discover ?”’
“Well, I’ll tell you. It’s to find things. Miss Snyder told us the



\
BKAMINING THE STRANGE TREES.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

whole of it; while the Fair was going on, and it was four hundred years ©
ago then, but they couldn’t get the Fair ready on the very year.’’

‘*T should fink they could in four hundred years,’’ said Dolly.

‘*Oh! they didn’t begin as soon as America was discovered. Besides
it took Columbus a good while to get it discovered, so they could have a
fair. First he found an island.”

‘‘Did he? Where did he find it? ”’ c

‘‘QOh! in the water. Islands always grow in the water. And Colum-
bus, as soon as the king and queen where he lived bought him three boats,
he started to discover something. He didn’t know as it was America.
But he knew the world wasn’t flat.’’

‘‘The world is bent,’’ said Dolly. ‘It’s bent awful rounding.
Mamma showed me on a globe in the book-store.’’ ~

‘« Yes; but real big men didn’t use to know it; and they thought
Columbus would sail to the end and fall off, you know — come to the edge
and tumble over.’’

‘* But he didn’t, did he? ”’

‘*Why,no. He sailed with a big boat full of men and two more boats
full sailed along, and the boats were like ships. And they went, and
went, and by and by they saw land, and Columbus, he put on a kind of
dress and got in a boat and some more with him, and they landed and he
knelt down and prayed.’’

‘¢ What for? ”’ :

‘* He was thankful he’d got there,’’ answered Georgina.

‘¢ Then what did he do? ’’

‘¢ He planted a Spanish standard.”’

<* What did he plant it for?’’ :

‘*T don’t know as I know. Miss Snyder didn’t tell us. But I guess
because the island Was so wild and nothing but trees on it, so he planted a
standard.’’

Mrs. Pettitt had quietly listened, thinking Georgina was getting along
pretty well. But now she added a bit to the story, that she might set
right the odd error.

‘* Georgina,’ she said, ‘‘ a standard is a long staff bearing a banner
used by the nation it represents. A standard is like a flag.’’
**Oh!”’ said Georgina, ‘ they planted a standard, and I thought maybe it was like a tree, or some-
thing to raise to eat, or like that.’’

Mrs. Pettitt saw how easily children fail to understand things that

grown people know so well that they sometimes forget how once they did
not know them at all.

‘* You please tell it,’’ said Georgina. ‘*‘ You know it better. And
please tell how he planted the standard.’’ Dolly joined in the request.









hw ‘yyomer
v 7 RS oN




Was

si sor

7 See ON

Giese ae

THEIR MOTHER SHOWS THEM THE MAP,

**He took the flag in his hand, and stepping on the land thrust the
end of the staff in the ground.’’

** What did he do afterwards? ’’ asked Dolly.

‘* He explored the island, and made friends with the people who lived
there, and visited other islands. And he came from Spain four times.
His body, what was left of it, was at last taken to Cuba, the largest of
the islands which he discovered, and buried in Havana.”’
A DOZEN (OOD TIMES.

Mrs. Pettitt took a map and showed the little girls the port from
which Columbus sailed, and the path of his first voyage and the lands he
discovered and explored.

The next day they made a game, rigging out a cart and two doll-car-
riages as ships, putting in all the big and little dolls for sailors. And
they took their papa’s cane for a standard. Then they started on their
voyage of discovery, through the deep waters of the dining-room, sitting-
room and parlor, discovering a number of islands in the front hall, com-
posed of rugs. One of these islands had a lion woven in it, and on this
they landed, Georgina promptly slaying the animal with a poker and then
planting her standard in great style, announced that ths was America.

It was a most successful voyage, and they returned from it with lovely
gifts to present to the good Queen Isabella, who had helped to plan and
mark out their trip. The queen, looking much like Mrs. Pettitt, was
mending children’s clothes by a window, when they arrived, and. sHe
appeared overjoyed at the safe return of the mariners. She even kissed
Columbus and his first assistant, and shook hands with several of the crew.

Mrs. George Archibald



SOMETHING NICE.
















































































































































































































































































KEEPING WATCH.


!

5
8
m
2
a
4
a
mn
=

A HAPPY NE


AS THEY DO IN SPAIN.

Sm Toap one day was

journeying
Along the garden
walk,

When signals of a coming
storm

Waved from a holly-
hock. .

‘* You’ll wet your lord-
ship’s warts, I |
fear,’’

Buzzed a bee in a
four-o’ clock.

‘¢The shelter of the
~ Plantain Inn
I’m hopping hard to.
gain,”’

The traveler said; ‘‘ then
will I do

As do the folk in
oo Spame.

‘¢ Pray how is that? ’’
Bee wished to
know.

*¢ Well, there — they
— let it rain!’
G. S. DL.


INSECTS WITH MUSIC BOXES.

i

.>\—— lll
iy ‘aT

=

yp
ed

es



DORA AND HER PAPA.

INSECTS WITH MUSIC BOXES.

NE hot noon, two happy insects named Cicada, were up in
a tree. Papa Cicada was playing on his two. music boxes
a song for his mate. The music boxes were just below
his waist, and covered with skin which looked like glass.
He wound the works up inside and they played a tune
which sounded like this— Yee, yee, yee! and was very
= loud. While he was playing, his mate bore grooves. .

Sure in the tree with a pin in her dress. In these she laid

ss rows of eggs. Then they both flew away. Out of each
egg came a white worm, which crawled down into the ground and
slept. In the spring they came up, and holding on tight to the tree, took


STAR GAMES.

off their old dresses. Then they looked just like Papa Cicada, for they
were yellow. They had six legs and pretty shiny wings, and were half
as long as am oak leaf. After flying into the tree, some unrolled their
long bills and. began to suck the sap, while the others played Yee. Little
‘Dora sitting on the steps on hearing them said to her papa how tired she
was of the bugs’ hand-organ playing. Her
papa told her that-‘“long years ago in Greece,
little girls’ and their’ papas liked to hear the
cicadas so much that they often kept them. in
‘cages. Some of the children’s mammas wore
gold ones in their hair to show that they be-
longed to the nobility. On the money that
their papas carried in their pockets were pict-
ures of cicadas. The children’s papas often | ¥
‘told them this story. ‘One time as two men |
were playing on something like a ‘harp, one of JR
the strings broke. But a cicada came and
alighting on the wire sang the tune.’ After APA “lAPA AND mus Mare.
that there were pictures of cicadas resting on musical instruments. The
little girls’ big brothers loved these little players so much that they often
wrote poems about them.

‘¢ Now, Dora,’’ said her papa, ‘‘run.and tell mamma that it is going
to.be very warm, for the cicadas are playing. We know that they never
play when it is cool.”’



Nina Stevens Shaw.

STAR GAMES.

Up in the nursery of the sky two little stars, one night,

Were very busily engaged in playing ‘‘ Throw a light”’ ;

They begged their next-door-neighbor star to join the pretty play,

But he answered : ‘‘ I’ve a shooting match ;’’ and quickly went away.
Annie L. Hannah.


THE CITY BOY AND HIS COUSINS.

FRED AND HIS COUSINS.

Frep is a city boy. He never was in the country until last year. He
spent the summer vacation at his Grandpa Jones’s farm-home.

The great out-of-doors was all new and very strange to him. He asked
many queer questions. His country oe thought many of them were
foolish questions.

He asked if the birch-trees by the spring shed their skins every ea ;
if musk-rat could climb as high as a squirrel ; and he really did believe
some cows gave skim milk, and that beans grew underground.

‘* A city boy does not know much,”’ his cousins said to one another when
Fred was not there to hear; but Grandpa would say, ‘‘ Wait and see.’’

Grandma wanted some skullcap herb one day. Skullcap tea she must
have for a very sick neighbor.
FRED AND HIS COUSINS.

She sent the children into the meadows and woods to search for it.
None of them knew the herb, or how or where it grew. ‘* A little blue
flower with a peaked green leaf,’’ was all Grandma could tell them of the
herb.

Jack came home with a big bunch of lobelia, Lucy with water weeds,
- Jean with gentian flowers, the twins with an armful of snake grass; but
Fred came with his hands full of skullcap herb.

‘*T found it down in the south swamp, Grandma,’”’ he said. read of it in my botany, and I knew it the minute I saw it.’’

“¢ He does know pomenne ue cousins whispered; and Grandpa
said, ‘‘I told you to wait and see.’

One evening Grandma took a lighted lamp and went into the shed
chamber for another cheese hoop.

Jack and. Jean and Fred went with her.

She stepped on a loose board; it tipped, and the lamp flew from
Grandma’s hand.

The oil spilled and caught fire, and in a moment that end of the shed
chamber was all ablaze.

Grandma screamed for water, and Grandpa and the boys ran for it to
dash over the flames; but Fred shouted, ‘‘ Don’t, don’t, don’t! ’’

He caught a shovel from the floor, scooped it into a barrel of meal,
‘and threw shovelful-after shovelful of tlhe damp stuff on to the flames.
The fire was all out when the boys came puffing upstairs with pails of
water.

** Don’t ; done throw water on oil flames, for it spreads the fire,’’
Fred said. ‘‘ Our teacher told us about it. Dash on flour, meal, salt,
earth, dressing, wool clothing, rugs, but never water.’’

. © Bred saved our house this time, and no mistake,’’ Grandpa said,
looking at the scorched floor and wall in the open chamber. ‘‘ The
timbers and boards are as dry as tinder, and hung with everything that
would easily catch fire. Water would have spread the flames and burned
the house.’’

“¢ City boys do oa a whole Tet He dl ack aiasnered to Jean, sliding

down the shed chamber stairs.
Clarissa Potter.
WHAT THE LITTLE SHOES SAID.

I saw two dusty little shoes
A-standing by the bed ;
They suddenly began to talk,

And this is what they said:

‘« We’re just as tired as we can be,
We’ve been most everywhere ;
And now our little master rests —

It really is not fair.

He’s had his bath, and sweetly sleeps
*Twixt sheets both cool and clean,

While we are left to stand outside ;
Now don’t you think it mean?

We’ve carried him from morn till night ;
He’s quite forgot, that’s plain;

While here we watch, and wait, and wait
Till morning comes again.

And then he’ll tramp, and tramp, and tramp
The livelong summer day.

Now this is what we’d like to do —
Just carry him away,

Where he could never go to bed,
But stay up all the night
Unwashed, and covered o’er with dust —
Indeed! ’twould serve him right.’’
Mrs. J. 8. Lowe.












































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































ME AND MY PETS. -




“A spot upon the table-cloth !
My careless little Peter,

Tow came, it there beside your plate?”
1 said, You must be neater.”

ft Peter seemed quite innocent.

‘l guess, papa” said he,

‘The spot was by aunt Edith’ plate
/Xnd it crawled here by me.”

yma

THE MOLE CRICKET.

‘Wnat can this hideous creature be with his velvety, crab-like chest,
and with wing-covers like the beetle? Just look at its fore feet. How
strong they are, and how exactly they seem like great hands ready to tear
into pieces whatever comes within their reach! Its wings are broad, but
when they are folded, they resemble two ribbons as they hang below the
wing-covers.
(“THE MOLE CRICKET,

This insect is about two inches long, and is of a dark brown color. It
is called the mole cricket. Do you see its black eyes? It lives in a
sandy soil, and builds its nest under ground. When winter is coming, it
removes its nest to a great depth, to prevent injury through frost; and
when the warm spring-time comes, it raises the nest again.

The female mole cricket builds her nest of clay, and of the size and
‘shape of a hen’s egg. After ne cosey home is completed, she makes
galleries and winding ave-
nues, and even little forts
around it. Then she digs
a ditch around all these,
so that other insects can-
not trouble her nest.

Often there are found
one hundred and fifty eggs
in one of these nests, and
sometimes as many as three
hundred have been found
in the nest of this insect.

The baby mole crickets look like
black ants, and are not supposed to be
grown-up until they are three years Ne
old. But when’ they are ‘‘ grown- aoe ea eles
up’’ they are very strong. They
have been known to push a weight of six pounds, on a level surface.

What does it eat, do you ask? It lives on smaller insects and worms.
It used to. be thought that it ate nothing besides roots, but this was a mis-
take. They destroy the tender roots of plants as they go out on their
exploring tours, or are hollowing out the earth for nests.

This is a. very wise and fierce insect, too. Let us imagine ourselves
trying to get one to look at. We shall secure it for our prisoner, if we
put a stem of grass into its hole, and draw it cule ony when the insect '
_ Seizes it. f
A very learned man tried once to get one. Somehow, in doing this,
- he cut the insect into two parts, with the garden tool he had in his hand.



LITTLE NUT-MEN. |

He went away for a moment, and when he returned, great was his sur-
orise to see one part of the mole onickey trying (hungry ao to eat
the other part of itself.

The male insect chirps a note of a low, jarring sound at evening and.
during the night.

But although these are such fierce-looking creatures, they are really
very timid, and at the least noise or shaking of the earth about them, or
sound of footsteps, they run quickly to their under-ground homes.

Some kinds fly but little, but, in Japan and the West Indies, there is
one of their family whose wings are very strong, for it sometimes will fly
into houses, in the evening.

Would you like, girls, to have one fly into your best doll’s house? Or
would the boys welcome one as a visitor to their miniature work-shop ? .

Fannie A. Deane.

/



LITTLE NUT-MEN.

Bitty and Tilly
Went nutting together ;
All in the crispy
October weather.
The leaves were red
And the leaves were brown ;
The little Nut-men
Shook the chestnuts down :
Little Nut-men in coats like fur ;
Made of prickly chestnut burr.
: Cora Stuart Wheeler.
















THE DOLLS ARE PLEASED WITH THE NEW STEP.


A CHILD AND THE FLOWERS.



























THE BIRDS ARE GOING AWAY.

A CHILD AND THE FLOWERS.

‘* Why not stay all the year,
Flowers, to delight us? ’’
‘« Because, dears, don’t you see,
Jack Frost would bite us?’’
*¢ You shall live in the parlor,
With plant-food be fed.’’
‘¢ The earth is our bedroom,
And we’d rather go to bed.’’ M. F. B.



A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.
THANKSGIVING.

HEN the cook has gone away to
spend Thanksgiving among her
own folks, and there is church to
attend, and a public dinner for

-. the newsboys, there is not much
time for a housewife to get a
dinner. This is why the Pet-
titts were going to eat Thanks-
giving dinner at the ‘coffee
house,’’ a very nice establish-
ment where many business men,
and not a few families, took their
meals.

It was. the first time that the
Pettitt family had ever eaten a

' holiday dinner at any table at their own.

First they went to church, where the beautiful singing pleased the
little girls, and-where something happened which much displeased Dolly.
She told her mother about it on her way to the coffee-house.

“«T don’t fink it was very nice, what the minister said and the
collection-man did.’’

‘« What was that, dear?’’ asked mamma.

‘« Well, the minister said to pass the collection for the poor, and the
collection-man brought the basket to us in front of the whole church.
Did he fink we were poor? ’”’

‘OQ, Dolly !’’’exclaimed Georgina, ‘‘ don’t you know more than that?
The oD for the poor is to get money in the. SESE to give to
poor folks.’

‘¢ Was it?’’ asked Dolly of her mother, and being assured it was, she


A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

felt greatly relieved. At the coffee-house the Pettitts waited in the par-.
lor until the dinner-bell rang. Dolly walked about, talking constantly as
she examined this and that novelty.

‘ meat grocery,’’ she said.

“« Yes,”’ said ce i “and soup, and Cee sauce, and olives
and cake and jelly ’’

Just here a Bone young man with a thin mustache came into the
room, and asked what was wanted, and Mr. Pettitt had:hard work con-
vincing him that no one wanted anything. As only the Pettitts were
there, he was greatly puzzled, saying he could not understand Me the.
electric bell had rung if nobody had rung it.

As they were going down to dinner, Dolly pulled her aoe s hand,
and touching an electric button before her pecker could prevent, said :

‘What is this, mamma? _ It’s loose.’

‘© Why, Dolly! ’’ exclaimed her mother; ‘that will ring a bell and
“some one will come to see what is wanted.’’

Dolly, in great fear, insisted on hiding somewhere, and ha the
young man with the thin mustache appeared again, she was sadly fright-
ened and needed all the comfort her mother could give her to restore her
to her usval cheerfulness.

_ Dolly’s mistake was explained to the young man, who wen away
rather out of patience with children.

‘*T didn’t know it would ring,
fore when I pushed it?’’

_ Did you push it before? ’’ asked Mrs. Pettitt. ‘Then that was
why the boy came up the other time.”’

‘Please ’scuse me,’’ entreated Dolly in such distress as nearly
brought tears to her eyes. And as it was Thanksgiving they ‘* ’scused e
her.

It was a splendid dinner, and Dolly wished they could come there
‘every day.

That evening Mrs. Pettitt told the girls a Thanksgiving story she had
read. It was about a little New England girl of many years ago, before
it was the custom for a President to set the date for this special holiday.

”? said Dolly penitently. ‘* Did it be-
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

The little girl was invited to go with her parents a number of miles to
spend Thanksgiving, and when they got there, Thanksgiving was post-
poned in the little settlement, because the supply of molasses was gone,
and they had nothing to sweeten the pumpkin es You see they had
no sugar, and thought they :
could not celebrate Thanks-
giving without pumpkin pies.

**Q, dear! if I had lived
then, I wouldn’t have had a
Fanksgiving,’’ said Dolly.

** Yes, you would, if you |
were the right sort of old- — |






ffi i) ne
time New England girl. In o J! i
those days they felt rich and
thankful for a good crop of
corn, for flour, salt meats, and
vegetables in store for winter,
and for homespun clothes to
wear. And they were glad to
go to church to pray and thank
God, though the sermon was
often two hours long, and
there were no cushions on the
seats. Only such _ thankful
people would have thought of
establishing Thanksgiving Day
at all. It is the heart, not
what we have, that makes us
grateful.’’

They talked about these cides and Georgina and Dolly learned a.
lesson of real thankfulness. And they talked of other Thanksgivings they
could remember.

‘*Mamma,’’ said Georgina, ‘‘you remember that funny boy that
brought his dog, when he came to spend Thanksgiving to Mrs. Baker’s? ’’

‘* Yes, I remember him very well,’’ answered Mrs. Pettitt.



DOLLY TOUCHES THE BUTTON.
A DOZEN GOOD TIMES.

*¢ Well, I forgot to tell you; when I went to Mrs. Baker’s to take her
that house-plant, she showed me a new picture he had taken with his dog,
_ and not any of the dog shows but his tail.”’

‘< Why doesn’t the dog show ?’’ asked Dolly.

‘“« Because Mrs. Baker said the photograph man stood the boy up,
holding the dog’s little chain and the dog sitting by him. And the dog
got scared and ran around behind the boy, just as the picture was taking,
and only just his tail shows.”’

‘¢ That’s real funny,’’ said: Mrs. Pettitt. _

*¢ Yes, it’s funny, but I don’t see much Fanksgiving about it,’’
said Dolly.

“« Nobody said it was Thanksgiving,’’ answered Georgina.

*‘Didn’t you say the picture was tooken Fanksgiving ?”’

cao; Dolly, I didn’t.’’

‘« Well, what did you say about Fanksgiving?’’

‘¢ T said the boy spent last Thanksgiving with Mrs. Baker.’’

““Oh!’’ said Dolly, with a long wink.

<< Dolly’s sleepy, and you must both go to bed,’’ said Mrs. Pettitt.
When she had given them their last Thanksgiving kiss Dolly said :

**T hope By tooth will get out and my two-th tooth get in by next
Thanksgiving.’

‘¢ Why ?’’ asked mamma.

‘< Because it’s loose a little and it shook some when I was biting my

dinner.’’
Mrs. George Archibald.

|


MRS. KITTY CAT.

My mistress is writing a story. She told me all about it yesterday
when I jumped up in her lap. I purred and brushed her face softly with
_ my tail, and she laid down her pen and patted me.

‘< Katherine,’’ she said (my mistress is always very polite to me; she
is almost the only one who gives me my fall name), ‘I am writing
a story.”’

I winked as hard as I could, and said, ‘‘ Indeed! ”’

‘« Tt is the story of my life. After I am dead it will be put in a book.’’

‘* How grand that will be!’’ I purred.

‘« Yes,’’ she said with a sigh, as if she were not quite natiatied with
the life she was writing. ‘‘I suppose so. But your life is far better
worth writing than mine, Kitty Cat.”’

I jumped down then, as she was so busy.

I wonder what kind of a story my life would make !

I am going to write it out very briefly. If people like the book I
can make it fuller. I forgot—I shall be dead. But then my oldest
daughter, Pussy Cat, can finish her mother’s work. Pussy is very elvan
She has her mother’s genius.

I am a very handsome cat. I suppose I may say that without.
vanity. My nose and ears and the tip of my tail are jet black. There is
also a little black star on my breast where the bow of my ribbon comes.
The first thing I remember was being snatched up out of a basket in
which were three other little kittens.

‘* Don’t drown this one, please! ’’ coaxed the little girl, hugging me
till I mewed for pain. ‘‘ It’s such a dear little beauty ! ’’

So they gave me to Bessie. She has been my mistress ever since,
till lately.

She gave me some warm milk in a saucer. Then she put some
white wool in a basket and made me go to sleep there. The basket was
in the sunny corner of the window-seat, and she sat beside me and sewed
patchwork.
MRS. KITTY OAT.

By the time the basket was too small for me the patchwork was
done. Then I saw what she had been pricking her fingers for all those
days. She made me such a cunning little bed in an old wooden cradle.
And she used to rock me to sleep and sing tome. She said I was her
little baby-cat.
But one day nobody came to wake me up and give me my saucer of
milk. I was so hungry
that day. inte
Nobody rocked. me to
sleep when night came. I
curled up in a heap in a
corner of the coal-bin.
I was hungry a great
many days after that. I
began to catch mice to eat.
- Bessie never once came to.
pat me. '

- And one morning I
ran up the back stairs
when no one was looking.
There was a long, shiny
box on the table.
ket of flowers stood at
the foot. And in the box
lay Bessie. Shs was very
straight and still. I kissed
her, but she did not kiss
‘me back, and her lips MRS. KITTY CAT AND HER MISTRESS,

were cold as the snow, and

as white. . They put her in the ground. TI don’t know why, unless it was
just as people put away their most precious things to keep.

I remember Bessie had a doll once. It was a big doll. It had yel-
low curls like Bessie’s, and eyes that would move, and-red cheeks. And
Bessie put that doll in a drawer, because, she said, ‘‘ it was too beautiful
for rough fingers to handle.”’


MRS. KITTY CAT.

’ ‘

After that, I came to live here with my new mistress. She is very
kind. I love her — pretty well. But I think — perhaps —I should like
her better if she wasn’t writing a book, and all about herself. It makes
her forget other people.

Well, I declare!

I forgot that was exactly what I am doing. And my poor little
baby Kit has been crying for her supper for the last hour. Come here to
your mamma, darling! You shall have some supper if the world never
gets any further in the life of Mrs. Katherine Cat. i:

_ Anna F. Burnham.

lA ji

afoeulll



THE BABY CAN WALK AS WELL AS THE REST.
THE BIRTHDAY PARTY.

*¢ Now where is little Anne, the
while ?”’

Tasked of Sally, Ruth and Nate :

But neither child could mes-
sage give _

Of her, or what might be her
fate.

The sun was shining bright
and warm,

The children playing light and —
free ;

But nowhere could I seek the
face

Of her I longed the most to see.

The time sped on, and all
about
Were children dressed with
tender care :
A birthday party on the lawn —
My little Anne — she was not there !
At length they brought the birthday cake,
And flowers were seen of every hue ;
Among them flew gay butterflies,
Who came in search of pleasure, too.



LITTLE ANNE APPROACHES THE TREAT.

Just then their voices welcome gave,
And little Anne approached the treat ;
I whispered: Is it playmates, or
The butterflies you’ve come to greet? ”’
Beth Gray.
/

FLOWERS, ALLIGATORS AND ORANGES.

FLOWERS, ALLIGATORS AND ORANGES.

May and Harry had come to Florida to live. They were surfeited with
flowers, and having gathered and eaten oranges fresh from the tree, and
watched the blue and the white herons fishing in the ponds until they were
no longer a novelty, they asked to see an ‘¢ alligator.’’

Being in Gainesville for a few days, their papa took them to Mr.
Post’s drug store. There they saw alligators in plenty; some large, some
small, and some only a little longer than May’s foot.

Harry was climbing up one of the large tanks, when Mr. Post said:

‘* You had better not go up there.. That ‘ gator’ is an ugly fellow.
We just got him this morning, ane he nearly knocked a man over ye his.
tail, as we were handling him.’

Harry got down in a hurry, and peeping through ine bars he saw the
big tail switching, and he decided. he didn’t want ny close scene
with such a huge ‘‘ gator.’

In the window were about a dozen tiny fellows, and they looked so
cunning in the water, that May put her hand in the bowl. One of them
snapped viciously, and Mr. Post laughed.

‘* They are not so innocent as they look. Alligators, my dear, are not
sweet-tempered.”’

In a glass case, in another part of the store, were a large rattlesnake
and a moccasin. They coiled and hissed, but did not strike each other.
Both children shivered as they watched their contortions, and Harry said :

‘*’m glad they’re in a glass case, aren’t you, sister?’

The next summer their papa trod on a rattlesnake in the door-yard,
but was not bitten. The reptile was speedily fixed so that he could never -
bite again, and all were glad to attend his funeral.

They also saw a large alligator in the Suwannee river, and ee ran
away when he swam near shore. | be

Last winter Harry said while eating oranges: « Flowers are pretty,
and snakes and ‘ gators’ are nice to talk about, but oranges are best

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xml record header identifier oai:www.uflib.ufl.edu.ufdc:UF0008737200001datestamp 2008-10-31setSpec [UFDC_OAI_SET]metadata oai_dc:dc xmlns:oai_dc http:www.openarchives.orgOAI2.0oai_dc xmlns:dc http:purl.orgdcelements1.1 xmlns:xsi http:www.w3.org2001XMLSchema-instance xsi:schemaLocation http:www.openarchives.orgOAI2.0oai_dc.xsd dc:title Young folks' companion for rainy days and pleasant hoursdc:subject Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literatureConduct of life -- Juvenile literatureChildren's storiesChildren's poetryChildren's stories -- 1898Children's poetry -- 1898dc:description fully illustrated.Date of publication from t.p. verso.Contains prose and verse.Frontispiece printed in colors.dc:publisher Lothrop Publishing Companydc:date c1898dc:type Bookdc:format 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 25 cm.dc:identifier http://www.uflib.ufl.edu/ufdc/?b=UF00087372&v=00001002225291 (ALEPH)08365452 (OCLC)ALG5563 (NOTIS)dc:source University of Floridadc:language English