Front Cover
 Title Page
 Christmas greeting
 Back Cover

Group Title: Childhood series
Title: Christmas greeting
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00087380/00001
 Material Information
Title: Christmas greeting in prose and verse for all good children
Series Title: Childhood series
Physical Description: 1 v. (unpaged) : ill. (some col.) ; 27 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Lothrop Publishing Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: Lothrop Publishing Company
Place of Publication: Boston
Publication Date: c1898
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile literature   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Children's poetry   ( lcsh )
Children's literature, American   ( 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
General Note: Contains prose and verse.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00087380
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002223123
notis - ALG3371
oclc - 262617005

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
    Title Page
        Page 4
        Page 5
    Christmas greeting
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
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        Page 31
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        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
    Back Cover
        Page 65
        Page 66
Full Text

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"I WISH you a Merry Christmas, Mr. Chippy," said a pretty little
white rabbit to a squirrel.
I thank you, Miss Bunny. Where are you going this morning ? "
I am going to get a present, Mr. Chippy," said Miss Bunny.
Who is going to give it to you ? "
Oh said Miss Bunny, good old Mr. Foxy that lives across the
brook. He came last iiiht. and told me all about it."
Will you tell me all about it? asked Chippy.
0, yes! if you will not laugh at me. He said it was a pity that
such a pretty little white rabbit as I am should have such a stumpy tail.
I know it is stumpy. Then he said he would give me a Christmas present
of a nice long one. He has it in his den. I am going now."


" Oh! don't go, dear Bunny," said Chippy.
Yes, I will," said Bunny; and then I shall look as fine as you."
"Oh! listen, listen to me," cried Chippy. "Do not go near old
Foxy. It will never, never do."
"Why not ?" said Bunny. "Are you afraid I will look too nice with a
long tail?"
O, no but if people give fine presents on Christmas they also eat
fne dinners on the very self-same day. Old Foxy is a cheater; so don't
go, please."
"What would he do with me ? asked Bunny.
Put you into his pot for dinner," said Chippy. And besides, you
would really look quite funny whisking around a bushy tail that was not
meant for you. God meant you to be pretty, and your tail is just right."
"Do you really think so, dear Chippy? "
Yes, dear; so be careful what you do."
"I thank you very kindly," said Bunny. "I'll just go home and
settle down contented with my tail. Good-by, Mr. Chippy "
Just as she ran off, up came Mr. Foxy. He had heard it all, and
he growled out at Chippy, Perhaps some day, old fellow, I'll put you
into mIy pot." Juniata Stafford.




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"Tell me a story, Grandma begged Kitty. She was leaning on
grandma's knee, and looking up into her face.
"And what shall it be about, my pet ?" asked grandma, as she
pushed the soft little curls off Kitty's forehead.
"About papa," said Kitty promptly, and grandma smiled, for she
was as fond of telling stories about "what papa used to do as Kitty
was of hearing them.
Well let me see did I ever tell you the story of the Bottle
Woman, Kitty?"
"No, Grandma," said Kitty, shaking her head, never."
"Well, then, get your chair and I will tell it."
So Kitty brought her little rocking-chair, and sat down in front of
grandma, put her elbows on her knees, sank her little-round chin in the
palms of her hands, and looked up into her face, all ready to hear about
the Bottle Woman.
"One day I was going to take your papa out with me to make a
call," began grandma; but Kitty looked so chubby and sweet that she
was obliged to stop and give her a kiss. So I dressed him in a pretty
new suit," she went on, as she picked up a stitch in her knitting which
the kiss had made her drop, "and put on a new pair of red-topped
boots, of which he was very proud; and then I told him to sit on the
front doorstep until I came out."
"Boots cried Kitty; "why, Grandma, I thought he was only a
tiny boy! "
And so he was," said grandma; "he was only six, but little boys
wore top-boots in those days, Kitty. Well, I was soon dressed, and
went out on the porch but there was no Henry to be seen. I looked
up the street, and down the street but not a sign of the red boots.
So I called Ellen and sent her in one direction, and went in another




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myself. Down the street I went, and I looked into all the yards as I
passed; I even peeped into barrels, for there was no knowing what
Henry might do, or where he might be. But no Henry did I see !
"Finally I turned a corner, and oh! the sight that met my eyes!
On that corner an old woman kept a stand and sold apples and peanuts,
and something in bottles -I forget what, or, perhaps I never knew;
but when the bottles were empty, she would throw them into a large tub
of water which stood on the pavement near. There was the stand;
there was the tub; and there -dancing up and down among the
bottles, little red boots and all was Henry; and beside him dancing
too, but with rage- was the old Bottle Woman. She was scolding
him, but he did not mind that in the least; he was enjoying his dance
among the bottles so much.
I had great trouble to pacify the old woman, but I did it at last,
and then I carried Henry home.
"' O, dear O, dear!' cried Ellen, whom we met coming from the
opposite direction; 'and the swate red booties of him spoilt entirely!'"
Kitty laughed merrily. She liked to hear Grandma talk Ellen,"
as she called it.
"But what did you do with naughty papa, Grandma?" she asked.
"It was a very long time ago, Kitty -almost too long to remember.
Perhaps I thought bed a good place for a little boy whose feet carried
him into mischief ; but I cannot be sure."
"I wish I knew," said Kitty. Annie L. Hannah.





I WOKE, this wintry morning,
And think what should I see?
A very lovely picture
All ready framed for me.
The giver must have left it
At some time in the night -
It was not there at ten o'clock,
When I put out the light!

The painting is a winter scene
Of wooded mountains grand,
A sweeping valley slopes between
Tall peaks on either hand;
And these are covered thick with trees -
Firs, cedars, weighed with snow -
A frozen stream, a rustic bridge,
And distant turrets show.


I was delighted with the gift,
And wondered whence it came;
I have a clever artist friend,
And J. Frost is his name;
No note or card of any sort
Was left to tell me so,
And yet I more than half-suspect
It was from Frost, you know !
M. J. H.


O, VALENTINE'S a jolly saint,
A jolly saint is he;
With pictures gay
He makes his day
As bright as bright can be.

And February's a jolly month,
As jolly as can be;
Sunshiny, cold,
Both young and old,
On February agree.

And you, my Valentine, are sweet,
As sweet as you can be !
Lump sugar, spice,
And all things nice,
Are n't half so sweet to me !
Helen M. Winslow.

^ -.^ar^-

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(After the painting by Sir Joshua Reywolds.)


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Kitty had a bad cold. She had been lying on the sofa all day, and
she was very tired of it.
"Grandma," she said at last, after she had watched the knitting
needles flash in and -out for a long time, did papa ever run away
again ?"
"Run away what do you mean, Kitty ?"
Don't you remember, you told me how he ran away and danced in
the bottle water did he ever do it again ? "
"I am afraid he did run away again; but he did not go to the bottle-
woman's tub, Kitty."
"0, tell me about it, do; I'm sick, you know, Grandma."
Of course Grandma could not resist that; she changed her seat for
one close beside the sofa. She drew the bright afghan more closely
over the little invalid and then she began the story.
"Ellen came to me one day in great trouble; she said that Henry
was not to be found.
Well, Ellen,' I said, 'I think that I know where he is, and I will
go and fetch him myself.' So I put on my hat and I hurried around to
a livery stable, where Henry had gone with his papa the night before.
He had been so delighted with the horses that he could talk of nothing
else, and I was sure I should find him there, and I was not mistaken.
"' Is my little boy here, Roger ?' I asked of one of the men who
knew me.
"'I have not seen him,' he answered; 'but he may be and have
gone in to look at the horses he is powerful fond of horses, ma'am.'
"Roger went into the stable and I followed him to the door; then I
stopped, for I was too frightened to go a step farther.
"There, right on the floor of one of the stalls, sat Henry, holding in
his lap one of the hind feet of a great horse. He was busy at play with

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the long hairs that grew out of the foot- the fetlock, it is called,
For a moment I could not speak or move. If the horse should move
it would be almost certain death to my dear little boy But the great
gentle creature stood like a statue; the beautiful instinct taught him
the danger, and so he never stirred, till Roger lifted the foot with which
Henry was playing, and I snatched him away. Then he turned with a
gentle little whinny and looked at us."
Grandma! cried Kitty, as she put her head back on the sofa
pillow she had raised herself on her elbow in her eager interest in the
story I should think you would have just wished to kiss him. What
a dear horse! But I am pretty glad he did not step on papa! "
"And so was I," said Grandma, with a smile.
Annie L. Hannah.

(This is an old United States mail-coach that once ran from the Indian Territory south; it was taken
out qf service when the locomotive and railway cars came to carry the mail. When it was seen by the
artist, it was down on the ground, its wheels having been taken of, and it was filled with a party of
children going on a make-believe journey.)

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(From the painting 1y C. Burton Barber, exhibited in the Royal Academy.)




Three little maids walked under bare trees -
Kitty and Effie and Mary Louise -
And each of the three
Wondered how it could be,
And what was the cause, and what was the reason
That flowers and fruits always came in due season.

"The maple that stands by my grandmother's porch
Turns red every fall like a flaming torch,"
Said Kitty; "and O, when I look out and see
The pink and white blooms of the old apple-tree,
I think it so strange
That they never change -
I wonder that God does not sometimes forget
The hundreds and thousands of blossoms, and let
Them change color or shape, or somehow come wrong,
Instead of just matching them where they belong."

"Yes; cherries," said Effie, are cherries always -
Unless they are eaten by horrid blue-jays -
And the garden-tree bears
The same juicy pearai


It bore when mamma was no bigger than me! "
" O, O," cried a voice almost choking with glee -
'Twas Mary Louise -
O, I know some trees
That don't always bear the same fruit, no no! no!
For I saw a dolly and kitten both grow
On the very same tree with a paper-doll show,
And candles and sugar-plums all in a row l"

"Why, Mary Louise,
There were never such trees,
You never did see them in all your born days,"
Cried Kitty and Effie, with faces ablaze.
" Yes, I saw it myself a beautiful sight!
It grew in our parlor one Christmas Eve night!"
Zitella Cooke.


Secrets are merry, and secrets are many,
Sing Christmas, say I!
I pity the house where there are not any,
Sing Christmas, say I!
Wonderful things you buy with your money,
Sing Christmas, say I!.
Sugar-plums sweet with the whole year's honey,
Sing Christmas, say I!
Though having is good, much better is giving,
Sing Christmas, say I!
These are the days that I like to be living,
Sing Christmas, say I! Tom Gray.




Do not eat very much syrup, Kitty; it is not good for you," said
Kitty's mamma one day at luncheon.
I knew a little boy once," said Grandma, "whose love for sweet
things led him into trouble."
"Papa ?" asked Kitty, looking up quickly.
"Yes, papa," said Grandma.
"Tell me," said Kitty, laying down her fork.
"'Very well; go on with your luncheon, and I will tell you the
story," said Grandma.
Your papa was very fond of molasses, Kitty, and one day he made
up his naughty little mind to have, for once, all he wanted. We missed
him suddenly, but were quite sure he had not gone out of the house,
so we began to search the rooms.
"I do not know how long we hunted, but finally I went into the
spare-room, and as I opened the door the first thing I saw was a stream
of molasses creeping from under the bed. The beds were not at all
like the beds of these days, Kitty, but very high, so high that some-
times we were obliged to have steps to climb into them; and around
the bed, down to the floor, hung a full curtain which was called a
"I ran quickly, and throwing up the valance I discovered Henry,,
sitting on the floor, with a whole loaf of bread in his lap, while in his
hand he held, a large jug of molasses, and he was pouring the molasses
over the bread, never noticing that it ran off as quickly as he poured
it on.
He seemed to be enjoying himself very much, and looked up,
when he heard me, with a sweet, sticky smile, though he must have
known that he was doing wrong, or he would not have gone away
under the bed."



Kitty did not speak for a moment; but she looked at the syrup jug
as though she thought papa's plan not a bad one.
"But I think he soon felt certain that it did not pay," continued
Grandma, looking at mamma with a queer little twinkle in her eyes,
" for he did not have a drop of molasses or a grain of sugar, or any-
thing sweet, for a whole week; and that was a very terrible punish-
ment, at least Kitty's papa thought so."
Kitty turned her eyes away from the syrup jug with a little sigh.
"Yes," she said, that was an awful punishment."
"But it taught him so well, Kitty, that he never took molasses or
any thing else, without first asking me, and you know that is a very
important lesson for a little child to learn."
Kitty nodded rather solemnly, and then looking up into Grandma's
face, she said, I guess, Grandma, that was a little preachment for me."
"Well, perhaps it was," said Grandma, smiling.
And do you know I think Kitty learned a lesson from the molasses
story, for after that she was much more careful about asking for things
she wanted.
Annie L. Hannah.


I've a secret to tell you, Dolly;
Let me whisper it in your ear:
To-morrow will be our birthday-
Your birthday and mine, my dear!
As soon as the sun peeps over
The hill where the blackberries grow,
I'll be eight years old, my Dolly,
And you will be one, you know.


Don't you remember, Dolly -
I'm perfectly sure you do -
When I woke. last birthday morning
The first thing I saw was you?
You sat on the edge of a workbox,
Waiting, you lovely child !
And when you saw I was looking
You stretched out your arms and smiled.

And you're just as lovely as
Though your curls are very
S And your poor legs wobble sadly,
And your left eye's fallen in;
-. And if to-morrow morning
Another doll comes here,
We'll be kind to her, but she shall
.. l, .not
'": Supplant you, Dolly dear.

S- We'll go to bed quite early,
-And try to fall asleep;
And if we hear things rustle,
We must take care not to
And when we wake in the
DOLLY AND I. I will kiss you, dear, and
"Many happy returns, my Dolly -
You're a whole year old to-day."
Charles Prescott Shermon.




SO, Kitty! said her mamma, in a grave tone, as Kitty came into
the sitting-room one morning, with her dress all awry, "what an un-
tidy little girl! Just see; your shoe is unbuttoned, your apron is torn,
your face is dirty, and you have lost your hair-ribbon. When will you
learn to be neat, and to play without getting yourself into such a
state ?"
Kitty did not look very well pleased.
"It's an awful lot of trouble, mamma," she said, almost crossly;
then, with a sudden change of tone, she asked :
"Grandma, what are you laughing and shaking your head for ?"
"I was only thinking of something," answered Grandma.
What was it? asked Kitty; "please tell me, Grandma!"
dear, no!" said Grandma; "I never could tell a story to an
untidy little girl! "
"Could you to a tidy one ?" asked Kitty.
I think I might be persuaded to," answered Grandma, smiling.
That was enough. Kitty fairly flew out of the room. In ten min-
utes she was back again, actually shining. Shoes buttoned, a clean
apron, nicely brushed hair, and cheeks glowing from the hard rubbing
they had undergone.
"Jane rubbed dreadful hard," she explained to Grandma, "but I
did not say a word; now tell me, please," and Kitty curled herself
into a little ball on the rug.
"Well," began Grandma, "I was thinking of a little boy who was
rewarded once for being tidy."
"Was papa always tidy?" asked Kitty, in a tone which implied
that she hoped that he was not.
"Yes, I think he was," answered Grandma.
Kitty sighed deeply.



"From the time that he was a little boy, he seemed to love to be
clean and neat," Grandma went on, "and when he began to go to
school, he was very particular that his boots should shine, and that his
hands were washed the last thing before leaving home."
"I don't think that he was very clean when he poured molasses all
over hisself," murmured Kitty.
Grandma coughed a little bit behind her hand, and then went on
with her story.
He did not know that he was more tidy than other little boys -
I do not think that he thought about it at all, or he would not have
been so much surprised when it was noticed. He went to school to a
very disagreeable and unjust Quaker, who seemed always glad when
he could find fault with any of the boys, and the boys said that he
enjoyed punishing them. He had a very disagreeable habit of looking
over a class, and suddenly selecting one boy to scold."
"I shouldn't think you'd have let my papa go to school to such a
cross man! said Kitty indignantly.
"We did not allow him to after we found what a very unjust man
he was; but that was not until some time later. One day he called up
the arithmetic class; and when the boys were all standing up before
him, instead of going on with the lesson, he began to look at them, one
after another.
"'0, dear!' thought the poor little fellows, wonder who's done
what, now ?' and there they stood, really trembling. After what
seemed to them a long time, the. old Quaker let his eyes rest on
Henry; he gave him one long look, and then he said, 'Henry, thee
may go to the head of thy class, thy boots are the cleanest!'
You may be sure, Kitty, that your papa was very much relieved,
and though it was an unjust thing for the teacher to send him above
the rest for having clean boots, still it may perhaps have taught the
other boys what a good thing it was to be tidy."
"Humph!" remarked Kitty, rocking herself back and forth; then,
a moment later, she said :
I think, Grandma, that perhaps I like the stories about papa when
he was naughty, better than this kind." Annie L. Hannah.



CHRISTMAS stockings in a row,
(Sing Christmas Day, sing Christmas Day !)
Watch the children as they go,
On Christmas Day in the morning,
To see what wonders night has
To find what Santa Claus has
To know if any he's forgot
On Christmas Day in the morning.

Christmas stockings slimmer
;R2 grow
.. (Sing Christmas Day, sing
Christmas Day!)
When children all their pres-
ents show
; On Christmas Day in the morning:
Books and games and bats and
Sets of dishes, lovely dolls,
S Lambs and other animals,
On Christmas Day in the morning.
Happy children, happy day,
(Sing Christmas Day, sing Christmas Day !)
Happy chimes and happy play
On Christmas Day in the morning;
Times will change, and boys will grow,
Girls get older- better so -
But never better day shall know
Than Christmas Day in the morning. Helen M. Winslow.




"A new boy came to school to-day, mamma," said Kitty as she came
in from the little kindergarten where she went every morning.
"Was he a pleasant little boy ? asked mamma.
"Well," said Kitty, he was some pleasant, and he was some not
pleasant -I think he was most not pleasant."
"How was that ? asked Grandma.
"He was pleasant, 'cause he let us look at his things, and he wasn't
cross a bit; but I don't think his talk was pleasant."
"What did he say ?" asked mamma.
"I don't know 'zactly what he said," said Kitty, who found it hard
to explain about the new boy; "he told us what a beau'ful house he
lived in; and how many dresses his mother had, and what lots of things
they had for dinner every day I don't think we liked to hear him."
"I do not wonder you did not think him pleasant," said Grandma,
"for no one is more unpleasant than a boaster. I remember how your
papa was tempted to brag once, and what poor success he had;" and
here Grandma laughed.
"That does not seem like him," said mamma, surprised.
"No," said Grandma, and it was not; but I will tell you about it.
One morning before school one of the boys began to tell what a fine
house he lived in, and how much money his father had. Not to be
outdone, another said he guessed his mother had 'much as fifty rings!'
Poor little Henry stood by and listened. He knew he had a kind
loving father, and a pretty, happy home, but there was nothing extra-
ordinary about that -so he thought; and really, it was very hard not
to be able to say a single word when the others had so much to say.
One boy's father had horses and carriages; Henry's father had none.
Another boy's father was a clergyman; Henry's was not. It was very
unpleasant to be so unimportant; but finally an idea occurred to him;


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he drew a sigh of relief, he stood up very straight with his hands thrust
far down into his pockets, and then he said, in a voice that would
impress his audience with the vast importance of his claim:
I guess my father is about the poorest man in the world Some-
times he don't have as much as a cent in his pocket '"
"Poor little papa! said mamma, in a tone of pity, though she
Oh! exclaimed Kitty, was Grandpa so dreadfully poor ? What
did you eat ?"
"Well, I do not think he could lay claim to being quite the poorest
man in the world, Kitty; and this is how your papa came to make the
mistake. That morning before he went to school the cook was going
to the baker's for a loaf of bread, and I asked Grandpa, who stood near,
to give her some money.
"' I cannot,' he answered with a laugh; 'I have not a cent in my
I do not believe Henry would have thought of it again if he had
not been so anxious to boast of something, and so decided that a person
who was without a cent in his pocket must be very, very poor, and that
to be distinguished as the poorest person in the world was better than
not to be distinguished at all."
Annie L. Hannah.




THE family had all been out to
.see the snow-man. It was Fred-
die's first attempt, and he felt
very proud.
How did you begin, Fred-
die ? said Mr. Symonds.
"I stuck a stick down first,
sir, then I packed the snow around
Sit. I meant to make it look like
you, papa." Fred admired his
Father immensely. Mr. Symonds
laughed; he couldn't help it.
S" Well, it certainly looks very
olly," said he, and it is enough
like me to have two legs and two
arms. Rather more like stumps
tSthan arms, though." This was
Aside to Mrs. Symonds.
A "Don't speak of it," she
FREDDIE STARTS FOR SCHOOL. laughed, under her breath. "Now,
dear, what are those snow-balls
for? It's time for you to be off to school."
"Yes, mamma; I'm going to take them with me, and stack them up
outside, then they'll be ready to use at recess."
Be sure you take them out of your pockets before you go near the
Of course. I'm not so foolish as to let them melt."
Freddie started off as joyous as a boy could be.
Half-way to school Will Blake overtook him. Will Blake was a full
head taller, and much stronger than Freddie Symonds. He was a cruel,
selfish boy, too.


Hi, there where'd you get them snow-balls? he called.
"Made 'em."
Give 'em to me, Sonny."
I won't," said Fred stoutly, but he was afraid.
"You won't Guess we'll see," and Will tried to snatch a ball. In
doing so, he lost his balance and fell.
It was too good a chance for Fred. Quick as a flash, he stooped and
crushed a snow-ball into Will's face and eyes. Here, you may have
one," he cried. Then he took to his heels.
There is an old proverb which says :

He who fights and runs away,
May live to fight another day."

Freddie had never heard it, but he acted it.
At night he told his father and mother. Mrs. Symonds shook her
head doubtfully, but Mr. Symonds said, You did right, my son. There
is no reason why you should submit to be bullied by a bad boy; only
remember now to be especially kind to him, and show him you do not hold
a grudge. That is the manly way to act."
When Fred went out to look at the snow-man, it appeared more jolly
than in the morning, even. He could almost see its eyes wink, as if it
would like to say, Quite right. I agree with your father."
Helen A. Hawley.


BoY, Ice
Ice, Thin,
Skate, Boy
Nice. In.

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% IV




Kitty was in distress, for in one short hour Grandma was going
to leave them; she was going away from Kitty's house, to make a long
visit in New York.
Seems's if you never were coming back, Grandma," she sobbed, as
she lay, a little heap of trouble, in Grandma's lap; "and I think Uncle
Frank is terrible to take you away! "
"Only two months, Kitty dear," said Grandma, kissing the mourn-
ful little face on her shoulder, and then think how delighted we will
be! but look up, Kitty. Beautiful Dandy is giving Jim a great deal
of trouble."
Kitty sat up immediately; she was always interested in Dandy's
capers. Dandy was a beautiful horse, and he never looked more
beautiful than when dancing about as now.
"Jim is too small a boy to lead him," said Grandma. "Henry
should not allow him to do it; your papa was very badly hurt when he
was a boy, by a horse."
"Tell me about it," begged Kitty; "p'raps it will be lots of years
before you tell me any more stories, Grandma!"
Of course I will tell you," said Grandma.
"You see, Kitty, we were all staying on a farm in the country one
summer, and the farmer allowed the boys to do just about as they
pleased. Henry had always been fond of horses, and that summer he
was with them almost constantly. He had learned to harness; and
one very warm day he made up his mind that he would have a ride all
by himself.
"So he went to the pasture and caught old Baldy, the horse that
he liked best, and led him to the barn. It was a very warm day, as I
have said, and the flies were troublesome. Baldy, as a general thing,
was easy to manage; but to-day he kept stamping and flinging up his

____-----__ 4

. -
S- -------- -- -

/.i- =-~~--=



head in a very restless manner, and making his young master a great
deal of trouble.
"'Keep still, Baldy,' said Henry, 'keep quiet, sir !' but just then
a large fly gave poor Baldy a savage bite and he flung his head higher
than ever, and this time when it came down, one of his great teeth
struck poor Henry with force, directly on the top.of his head, making
a big gash. In a moment the blood came streaming down his face,
and such a sight as he was when he came running to me. Of course I
was frightened at first, but when I had washed the wound I found that
it was nothing serious; but even after all these years the scar is still
to be distinctly seen."
"Where is it? asked Kitty eagerly.
"Right on top," said Grandma, smiling; where the hair has grown
a little thin you will find a narrow white seam about an inch long.
Have you never seen it?"
"I'll go and look this minute," said Kitty; and she slipped from
Grandma's lap and ran to the sofa where papa was taking a nap; and
Grandma went away to put on her things.
Kitty pushed a stool to the head of the sofa, and when she stood on
it she found that she could look directly down on papa's head. There
on top, as Grandma had said, was a thin spot in the soft brown hair;
and showing quite distinctly through it was the scar. Kitty touched it
softly with her little fingers, then she stooped over and kissed it, and
said gently, "Poor papa, I'm so sorry!"
Papa opened his eyes, and pulled Kitty around into his arms, and
asked why she called him poor papa;" and he laughed when she told
him, and said that he remembered all about Baldy, and that the blow
from his tooth had hurt "pretty much."
"But now, Kitty," he said, "it is time for Grandma and papa to
start, and you must try to be a very brave girl, and not cry any more,
lest you make poor Grandma cry too."
So Kitty did try her very best, and she did manage to smile, but it
was a very showery little smile.
Grandma's smile was showery, too.
Annie L. Hannak.



FRED says he has tried, yet never
been able,
In multiplication to learn a table ;
I'm very sorry if this is so,
For boys and girls, wherever they go,
Must add and subtract, and multiply,
And sums in division be asked to do.

You and I know something Fred
better find out :
Boys and girls cannot learn if they
fret and pout;
To always be sunny, and happy, and
For youth, as for age, is the very
best way;
And the lesson the scholar has
"learned by heart,"
Is the one in which fretting had
never a part.

SSix times one are six," says Fred TrH SORRY LAD.
then he stops,
And the book from his hand he sullenly drops;
Six times one are six six times one are six "
Oh was ever boy in such terrible fix
As this puzzled, unhappy and sorry lad,
Who to multiply well must learn to be glad ?
Mildred Huntington.



WHEN Papa and Mamma Travis drove away, they did not know the
horse would lose a shoe, and the blacksmith be gone home to his supper
just the minute they wanted him, and make them an hour late. Had they
known, mamma would not have told the children they might stay up until
she came back. It was Christmas Eve too, when of all nights children should
be early to bed so they can be early to rise on Christmas morning.
Dorothy and Meg drew great easy chairs before the hearth. Meg being
the smaller girl took the larger chair; then she was unhappy because her
feet wouldn't touch the carpet; Meg was a bit pettish. Sweet sister Dor-
othy pushed a hassock under the small feet, and that made it all right.
Paul curled up on the rug.
"I just hope Santa Claus 'll come down the chimney now," said Meg.
" I've always wanted to really-truly see him."
Guess he'd burn his toes, you goosie," said Paul.
"Let's find pictures in the coals," said Dorothy.
Pshaw Meg yawned and fidgeted.
Look, Paul Dorothy turned to the thoughtful-eyed boy-" right
there in the corner of the grate. There is a sort of box in the ashes, and
in it is a little, white baby, I do believe and it's all shining around
its head. Don't you see ? It's it's the Christ-child in the manger "
Dear, sweet Dorothy !
"Ye-es; I think so." Paul wanted to see it, but he wasn't quite sure.
I'm so sleepy Why don't they come? Meg was growing cross.
Then Jip barked, and mamma came hurrying in. My babies must
get to bed at once. It's an hour past their bed-time."
I wanted to see Santa Claus come down." Meg was wide awake now.
Oh he never comes until the children are all snug in their beds,' "
laughed mamma.
When they came down in the morning, sure enough Santa Claus had
been there ; the stockings were all full. But Dorothy said softly, "I'm
so glad I saw the little Christ-child." Helen A. Hawley.

0 CL '


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3~; j;
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The spirit of mischief seemed to have possessed Kitty that day, for,
from morning to night,she had been getting people into trouble.
Martha could not find the clothes-pins, because Kitty had had to
send a regiment of soldiers to camp.
The broom was missing; and off in a corner of the garden a clean
sheet was found spread over some currant bushes "for a tent," as Kitty
explained when she was captured and brought to the house; she looked
so like a mischievous imp that Grandma could hardly keep from laugh-
ing; but she only said, as she looked as severe as she could:
"I once knew of a little boy who got into trouble because he meddled
with the clean clothes from the line."
Kitty took off her hat, laid it on a chair; then she placed a little
stool at Grandma's feet, and sat down upon it with folded hands, and
looked up and said :
"Go on, Grandma; what did papa do with the clean clothes ?"
He had been up to all sorts of mischief that morning," answered
Grandma, as she smiled to see how quickly Kitty guessed who the boy
was; and we had watched him closely, but finally he slipped away,
and the next thing I heard the cook's voice:
"'0, you naughty boy! what have you done with all my clean
clothes ? All my own fault, I suppose, for forgetting to put the pins in
"I went out, and there stood Henry in the act of throwing a pair of
stockings into the well."
Kitty's eyes fairly danced, and she clasped her hands about her
knees, and rocked back and forth with delight, for that was an exploit
exactly after her own heart.
Grandma's lips twitched, but she did not lift her eyes from her
knitting. She said:



-~i i
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... .. i, ..,


7- -
z-:=- 77 /


Henry was a very little boy, not much more than a baby, but
Grandpa -who happened to be at home thought that he should be
taught not to do such things; so he tied a rope tightly around him and
"Henry put the clothes in the well, and I shall put Henry in the
well.' And Grandpa lifted Henry over the well curb, and let him
down in a little way."
"O-h!" said Kitty with a long breath, "what did poor little papa
do? Was he frightened dreadfully? "
"Well, no," answered -Grandma, for he knew that it was his
Grandpa that held the rope; and Grandpa soon did draw him up, and
Henry said, 'It's all dark as can be where the stockings are.' "
Well, I should be just as frightened as I could be to be held over
a well," said Kitty with a shake of her head; she evidently regretted
very much that such a very interesting amusement should have had so
unpleasant an ending.
Annie L. Hannah.


"Who can tell me the chief use of bread ?"
Asked a teacher of the oral class;
Quick up-popped a tousled curly head,
And upspoke a little black-eyed lass,

Much astonished any one should ask
That which could be answered with such ease-
Surely it were but an easy task !
"It's to spread the jam on, if you please !"
Minnie L. Upton.


Itwas not often that Mr. Mortimer got angry; now he looked sorry
and angry both, though "the sorry" was bigger than "the angry."
He held his cane behind his back, too, as if he did not mean to strike if
he could help it.
Willie Simpson looked defiant and wicked at this moment, though
he had not a bad face usually.
As for Jimmy Lask and Tom Spooner, the two boys who sat near
and saw it all, they looked as if they could cry, only as they were boys
they would not do such a thing.
This was how it happened: Willie Simpson ought to have studied
his spelling-lesson and learned all the long words, but, instead, he had
spent the study-hour in making funny pictures on his slate. This was
in the old times when they used spelling-books, and said, "b-a ba,
b-y by, baby," instead of looking at the word and saying "baby" all
at once.
Every Friday they had to write down all the words they could re-
member out of the week's lessons; just spell them right out of their
own heads.
Of course, since Willie Simpson had not studied as he ought, he
could not do that; and he was copying his hard words out of the book
which he held under the desk.
A schoolmaster can see a great deal that is not fully in sight, es-
pecially if he wears spectacles.
Mr. Mortimer had glanced over to that corner more than once dur-
ing the last hour, and he had noticed that every time Master Willie
wrote a word, he looked down into his lap first. The teacher waited
to be sure he was not mistaken, then he pounced on the boy so quick
that Willie had only time to straighten his arm so that the book should
go lower under the desk. He meant to get it safely closed and lying
on the shelf, but he could not; so there it hung like a burning coal
between his thumb and forefinger.


What are you doing, sir ? What are you hiding down there, sir?
Tell me !" said the master.
The little boys shook with fear. When the master said "Sir to
a lad and put an exclamation point after it, it meant something very
Willie's face turned red and then white, because in his heart the
good and the bad were fighting. Which would win ? Ah that would
tell what sort of a man Willie would be.
A minute -two minutes, and the little fellow bravely laid his book
on the desk, and held out his hand for punishment.
"I'm sorry, sir. I did copy the long words, but I'll never do it
Mr. Mortimer's face cleared; his eyes turned upward an instant -
the boys thought he prayed, and maybe he did. Then he said very
"Willie, my boy, I will forgive you because you owned up. But
let me tell you, this means far more than you think. If you had passed
off this lesson as your own, you would have been both a liar and a thief
- you would have deceived me, and have stolen the words. All your
life you may thank God, as I do now, that He gave you the victory."
And again the master lifted his eyes.
So Willie was not punished, after all; but he never forgot that spell-
ing lesson, nor the other lesson which was not in the spelling-book.
H. A. H.


I. I

I. ii. .

.-- i.





"There's the horridest little boy in all the world, out in the road
trying to put a dear kitten in a pail of water, and I most believe when
he grows up he will be in a prison!" and Kitty's eyes flashed.
Do you think that all boys'who drown kittens get into prison at
last?" asked mamma, laughing.
SI don't know," said Kitty, "but they'd just be served right! "
"I think that you would be pretty sorry,' as you would say," said
mamma, with a funny look in her face, if some of the boys who have
drowned kittens had been put in a prison; ask Grandma about it."
What was it, Grandma did papa drown kittens ? said Kitty.
"Yes," answered Grandma, "but he was a very tiny boy, Kitty.
We had several kittens at the time, and Henry was very fond of play-
ing with them. One day at dinner time all the kittens were missing.
We called, and hunted, but the kittens were not to be found. Finally
I went to Henry who was playing with his blocks in the corner, and
said, 'Henry, where are the kittens?' 'Kittens all gone,' answered
Henry, looking up into my face. Where ?' I asked.
"'All gone,' repeated Henry; 'all gone to see the stockings down
in the dark.' 'Come and show me,' I said.
Taking hold of my finger, Henry led me to the well.
"'There,' he said, pointing down, kitty's gone to see the stockings.'
"We had a man come to clean out the cistern," continued Grandma,
" and sure enough, there were the poor little kittens. Henry felt sor-
rowful when he saw them lying in a row, dead; his heart was almost
broken, for he had no idea they would be killed by going down into the
dark to see the stockings;' but it taught him the lesson his own journey
into the well had not he never would go near that well again."
"It would have been hard to put my papa in a prison for that,"
said Kitty, with her chin in her hand. Annie L. Hannah.



-4 -




This cat's name is Pansy. Do you think this an odd name for a cat ?
Her mistress is a young girl called Anna. When Anna was a mite
of a thing, just learning to use her feet, she was toddling in the garden
paths with her mamma. Through a crack in the hard walk a flower
had forced its way. Baby Anna
saw it; she picked it with a crow
of delight. It was a pansy, and
ever since she has been fond of
pansies, and she gives the name .
to what she likes very much.
Her best doll was always Pansy; :
and when this cat came as a lit-
tle round ball of a kitten she
was Pansy too. Anna says her
cat's face looks like the flower,
and maybe it is shaped a little
that way.
Pansy has become a large cat,
as you see.
Pansy has been taught to do .-
many things. The master of the ,
house is a grave lawyer, but he
is not above playing with a cat.
He has taught Pansy to stretch THE BURNED PAW.
herself at full length on the carpet and then roll over at his word.
When the family sit around the evening lamp which stands on a
big center-table Pansy sometimes jumps on the table and walks across,
her warm fur shining in the light. Then perhaps she takes a leap and
seats herself on the master's shoulder as he reads his paper.
Here let me tell you a joke which Anna likes to get off on older
people. She fooled me with it:


"Aunty Helen," said she, "say 'the cat, the cat,' and not the
Of course I said "The cat, the cat, and not the kitten."
That is not right," says my little lady.
Then I tried it every which way," The cat, the cat, and not the
kitten," until I do believe I had put the emphasis on every one of the
words. It took me a long time to find out that the right way was this:
"The cat, the cat," and leave off the rest. Because you see Anna told
me I must not say and not the kitten."
In the house where Pansy lives there is a beautiful wood fireplace.
Pansy likes to lie on the rug before the fire, or sit up and look at it.
Just now as she rested her paw on the brass fender, a spark shot out
and burned it. See her hold it up
H. A. H.





"Kitty, Kitty, what are you doing ? Kitty turned in guilty haste
from the crib.
"Baby's eyes are so shiny, mamma I guess I- was going
-to put my finger in them, just to see how they felt,
you know," she added, hoping mamma would understand.
"Well, come to me, and I will put my finger in your eye, and then
I can tell you how it feels."
But Kitty with a little shake of her head went over to Grandma's
side, and Grandma said I knew a little girl once who did the very
thing to her baby brother you wanted to do to yours. He was on the
bed, and she came up and began to play with him. 'How bright
Henry's eyes are,' she thought."
"0, Grandma, was the baby papa ?" interrupted Kitty.
"Yes, the baby was papa. As I was saying, the little sister looked,
and looked at them, and then said to herself,' I wonder how eyes feel?'
and the next moment she had put her finger right into one of the
bright eyes."
"0-h said Kitty, what did papa do "
"He shut the poor smarting eyes and cried so loud the naughty lit-
tle sister was frightened; she was really a loving sister and did not
want to hurt the baby. Kitty, it is a dangerous thing to touch an-eye.
Why do you suppose you have a little curtain with a fringe on the edge
over your eyes ?"
"Why do I, Grandma?" asked Kitty. Grandma put her finger
toward Kitty's eyes in a moment they were both tight shut. Now,
Kitty," said she, you see how quickly you shut your eyes when you
think they are in danger; that is what eyelids are for they are doors,
to shut, to keep out things which might fly in and give you pain."
Annie L. Hannah.




. 't


WI i-i

WILLIE lives in the city.
One day papa and Willie got on a train and rode out into the country.
They went to see Grandma. It was her birthday.
After dinner they walked into the woods. They saw some men cut-
ting down trees. Willie wanted to stop and see them work. So they sat
down on a stump.
Papa told Willie to look at one of the stumps. The tree had been
chopped off quite smoothly; the top of the stump was very flat.
Do you see the rings in the top of that stump ? asked papa.
"Why, yes, papa," said Willie, there are rings in it. There is a
little ring in the middle, and larger ones outside of it. I never knew
there were rings inside of a tree before. What makes the trees grow in
that way, papa? "
I will tell you," said papa. "I can tell you how old the tree was
when it was cut down."
Why, papa, how can you tell that? asked Willie. "I cannot tell
how old the tree was."
I will show you so that you can tell the age of a tree after it has
been cut down," said papa. One of these rings grew every year. The
tree does not grow in winter, when it is cold. It grows only in summer.
"It made the first ring in the middle, the first summer after it was
planted. Then it stopped growing in the winter. The next summer it
made this next ring outside of the little one in the middle.
Now see if you can tell how many years old the tree is."

-p- ~'O DS


"I will try," said Willie. "Is the tree just as many years old as
there. are rings in its trunk? "
Yes; that is right," said papa. Now count them."
I think there are eleven rings, papa. Was the tree eleven years old
when it was cut down? "
"Yes," said papa; "now, is one ring just as large as the other? "
No, papa. This ring is not nearly so large as the others."
"Do you know why it is so small? asked papa.
"No," said Willie. Can you tell that, too ? "
"Yes," said papa; last summer there was no rain for a long time.
Did Aunt Mary's flowers grow so fast as they did when it rained often?"
No," said Willie. They almost stopped growing."
"Then what do plants need besides earth and sun to make them
grow ?"
Plenty of rain," said Willie.
Yes; and trees live on it too," said papa. The summer this thin,
narrow ring grew, there was little rain; so the tree did not grow much
that year."
Here is a broad ring," said Willie. Is it because there was a
great deal of rain that year ? "
Yes, Willie, that is it," said papa. A. M. P.

She has to write words on her little slate,
When clothes for her dollie she'd rather make,
And cunning cakes in her toy oven bake;
But she has to write words on her little slate-
S /f /Six-year-old Kate!




The room was so very quiet that Grandma looked up. She spied
Kitty sitting in a corner, her back turned, very busy about something.
Dear me," began Grandma to Kitty's mamma, in a quiet voice, what
a pity that a girl seven years old should act as though only three "
Kitty laid something suddenly on the floor, but did not turn around.
"It did not surprise me when I found Henry at such mischief; but
he was only three years old," went on Grandma.
Kitty left her corner and came to Grandma's side.
"Well, Kitty, what is it?" asked Grandma.
"I s'posed you were going to tell a story," answered Kitty.
"About the mischief I found Henry in with a toy ?" asked Grandma.
"Yes'm; answered Kitty, growing rosy with shame.
"Well, he had been quite naughty one day, and as I was busy I shut
him up in a little room, and told him he could not come out for five
minutes. He did not know how long five minutes was, but as a general
thing he objected so much to being shut up that he would be a good boy
for a long time after. Well, I forgot all about him. About fifteen
minutes after I remembered, but when I went to the door, instead of
finding him crying, all was quiet.
"'Poor little fellow,' I thought, 'he has fallen asleep.' I peeped
in. There on the-floor, wide awake, sat Henry with his sister's great
wax doll in his lap. It had been a beautiful doll, but now its beauty
was gone, for Henry had pushed in both of the lovely blue eyes!"
"Oh!" said Kitty, drawing a long, long breath, "what a"-but
then she stopped and grew very red again.
Yes," said Grandma; but then he was only three, you know, and
could -hardly understand how very wrong it was to destroy good toys,
and pull them to pieces 'just for fun,' as he would have, had he been
seven." Annie L. Hannah.




The swallows long ago adopted the telegraph wires as wayside
inns, when gathering in the fall for their annual trips South for the
They seem to look upon the wires as a natural provision for their
convenience, the same as trees.
The weaver-birds of Natal go a step further than the swallows, and
take up their permanent residence on the telegraph wires, suspending
from them their curious nests, building along them, as people build
houses along streets.
Natal, the British colony in Zululand in South Africa, where the
famous English general Sir Garnet Wolseley, was one time governor, is
so named because it was discovered by the Portuguese on Christmas
Day, the day of the Nativity or Birth of Christ, in 1497.
In this Christmas land the weaver-birds are very numerous--and
very interesting birds they are.
The weaver-birds belong to the finch family. They are found in
Africa, Asia and Australia, but not at all in Europe or America.
They are small birds, with sharp conical bills, and very large and
strong claws. They get their name from the wonderful way in which
they weave their nests out of vegetable substances.
The different species weave a variety of nests; many are in the
form of a pouch, lengthened by a tube below, up through which the.
bird enters and ascends into the nest itself.
Usually the nest is hung from the tip of a slender branch, often over
wate-, thus being quite secure from monkeys, snakes and squirrels.
The weaver-birds would seem to be very social creatures, as they
build their nests close together. One variety each year attaches a new
nest to the old one until sometimes five or six may be seen hanging on
to one another.
Some African species build a whole village of nests under one
umbrella-like roof; perhaps it would be better to call it a city instead


of a village, for as many as eight hundred or a thousand nests have
been counted in a single colony.
These colonies select trees with tall smooth trunks as these cannot
be easily climbed by wild animals. First they club together and build
the common roof in company; then each pair builds its own nest
or private apartment beneath. The nests, or rooms, are regularly
arranged, like the cells in honeycomb.
Each year new nests are added, until sometimes the structure
becomes too heavy for the branch; then there is a crash and a


terrible ruin-as when a human village is destroyed by an earth-
It seems singular that the Natal weaver-birds should choose a
support so unlike trees as telegraph wires. Probably their instincts
tell them that the cleverest climbing animal would never venture
along the slender line that bridges the way from post to nest.
In choosing telegraph wires instead of trees, however, the weaver-
birds keep to their social habits and hang their nests in rows along the
wires. Sophie Scissors




"Why, Kitty, what have you given the baby to play with?" asked
Kitty's mamma.
"Just the key of the door, mamma; he's real 'mused with it, and
I told him not to lose it," answered Kitty.
That makes me think of something Henry once did with a key,"
said Grandma. One day I missed the key of my store-room. I
looked in every place, but no key.
"I was going to have company to tea, and I must have my cake
and preserves; so I had to send out for a locksmith."
Why didn't you ask little papa ? asked Kitty.
Little papa had gone that afternoon for a two days' visit, and
when he returned, as I had a new key, I had forgotten it -until a
discovery I made a week later.
One day I went into the store-room to get some pickles for dinner.
The jar stood on the floor, and was almost enipty, and as I put the
spoon down into it I heard something hard rattle against the bottom.
"I began fishing for it with my spoon; it was slippery, and it
was some time before I could fish it up- but there was the lost key!
"Well, I called Henry, and holding up the key, I said, 'Henry, see
what I found in the pickle jar!' "
'Why, I most guess it's the key of the store-room,' he said.
"' And do you know how it got into the pickle jar ?' I asked.
"'I 'pect I do,' he answered. 'I was quite a good deal starved for
a pickle that day I went to Aunt Kate's, and I was 'bliged to get one,
and the key slipped out of my hand, and it was so very wet down
there among the pickles, that I guessed I bettent put in my hand; and
then you called me, and I had to go.
"Did you punish him ?" asked Kitty.
"O, no!" answered Grandma. Annie L. Bannah.




KITry had come over to spend
the afternoon with Charlie; there
S4 was no fence between their lawns,
and they were the greatest friends.
They had had a splendid time,
for Uncle Roy had been teaching
them to draw a half-open book,
which he had placed before them
as they sat on the floor. They had
rubbed their slates clean a good
many times, but finally they had
each succeeded in making some-
thing not unlike an open book.
t ae" Are you so tired? asked
Uncle Roy, as Kitty put her slate
"THE SPONGE IS AN ANIMAL," SAID UNCLE ROT. down on the rug beside her, and
They don't make"down on the rug beside her, and
with a sigh leaned back against his knee. She seemed weary.
Some tired, in my back," she answered; but I do love to draw,
it's such fun, Mr. Roy."
Yes; isn't it?" said Charlie; then changing the subject rather
suddenly, he asked, picking up the sponge which had been kept so busy
that afternoon cleaning the slates, How do they make sponges, Uncle
Roy? "
'They' don't make sponges at all; the sponge is an animal,"
answered his uncle.
W-h-a-t cried Kitty and Charlie together.
"Yes," laughing at their astonishment, "sponges are living creatures;
but this," taking the sponge from Charlie, is only the skeleton of a
sponge. The living part is like a kind of jelly, and fills all these holes,
and covers the outside of this skeleton."
"Where is the live part now? asked Charlie.


The live part has to be killed before this is fit for use."
How do they kill it ? asked Kitty.
"Sponges live in the sea," said Uncle Roy; "for a time, perhaps,
they may swim about, but they soon fasten themselves to the rocks at the
bottom, and there they remain till they are found by the divers.
They live on the sea water which passes through them, spouting out
of all these holes."
What is a diver, and how do they get the sponges from the bottom
of the sea ?" asked Charlie.
"Well," said Uncle Roy, laughing at so. many questions, "a diver
is a man who dives down into deep water; several men go out in a boat,
and then the diver jumps overboard with a rope tied about him, and
plunges down to the bottom. As soon as he sees a sponge, he tears it
from the rock, pulls the rope, and the men in the boat draw him up; and
now to answer Kitty's question as to how the sponge is killed. They are
killed simply by keeping them out of the water and drying them, which is
often done by burying them up in the hot sand. That soon kills the poor
jelly; and after it is dead, these skeletons are put into wire cages, and
placed in the sea, where the tide running in and out through them, soon
washes them quite clean."
Do we have sponges in our sea? asked Charlie.
Sponges grow almost everywhere, but the warmer the climate the
better and larger they are; the best, I suppose, come from the Mediter-
ranean Sea."
"Well," said Kitty, drawing a long breath, and scrambling to her
feet, "I never knew sponges were alive before, and I'm going straight
home to tell Grandma; I don't believe she knows."
Annie L. Hannah.





This time Grandma was going away to be gone a year, and Kitty
was more heart-broken than at the other visit.. I'm so customerd to
have you !" she said.
Grandma promised her a letter each week, but Kitty sobbed in
such a way that Grandma was really troubled.
Suddenly Grandma said brightly, Kitty, sit up and listen to a story
- we have just a moment before the carriage comes.
"When Henry first began to wear trousers," went on Grandma,
" he was exceedingly proud of his pockets, and the things that went
into them were something astonishing, and by bedtime each night they
were a sight to behold.
"Well, one day he came into the room with such a funny look on
his face I knew he had been in mischief. 'Henry,' said I, 'where have
you been ? and what have you in your pockets ?' for I saw him glance
toward one of his dear pockets.
"He stood first on one foot, then on the other; tucked his chin
down into his neck, and glanced up at me from under his eyelashes,
keeping his hands behind his back all the time, but he did not answer,
and so I went up to him, and opening his pocket I had learned not
to put my hands into them peeped in, and what do you suppose I
found ? A pocket full of tar! soft black tar, quite melted, and run-
ning down on his stockings.
"'Well, Henry,' I said, 'you have destroyed your pocket now, and
will have to get along without it;' and I cut the pocket out, which
was the only thing to do."
As Kitty thought of Grandma holding up the pocket full of tar,
and little papa with his tar-covered hands, she burst into a laugh; and
the next moment a good-by kiss was pressed on her lips, and then
dear Graudma was gone. Annie L. Hannah.


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