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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories, by 
+Annie Fellows Johnston and W. L. Taylor
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories
+
+Author: Annie Fellows Johnston
+        W. L. Taylor
+
+Release Date: May 2, 2012 [EBook #39593]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover]
+
+
+
+
+AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO
+
+AND OTHER STORIES
+
+
+
+
+Works of
+
+Annie Fellows Johnston
+
+
+THE LITTLE COLONEL SERIES
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+  The Little Colonel                                    $.50
+  The Giant Scissors                                     .50
+  Two Little Knights of Kentucky                         .50
+  The Little Colonel Stories                            1.50
+    (Containing in one volume the three stories, "The
+    Little Colonel," "The Giant Scissors," and "Two
+    Little Knights of Kentucky.")
+  The Little Colonel's House Party                      1.50
+  The Little Colonel's Holidays                         1.50
+  The Little Colonel's Hero                             1.50
+  The Little Colonel at Boarding-School                 1.50
+      (_In Preparation_)
+  The Little Colonel in Arizona                         1.50
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+OTHER BOOKS
+
+  Joel: A Boy of Galilee                               $1.50
+  Big Brother                                            .50
+  Ole Mammy's Torment                                    .50
+  The Story of Dago                                      .50
+  Cicely                                                 .50
+  Aunt 'Liza's Hero                                      .50
+  The Quilt That Jack Built                              .50
+  Asa Holmes                                            1.00
+  Flip's "Islands of Providence"                        1.00
+  Songs Ysame (Poems, with Albion Fellows Bacon)        1.00
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+  L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+  200 Summer Street          Boston, Mass.
+
+[Illustration: "AT FIRST HE ALWAYS BROUGHT SOME BOY WITH HIM"
+
+    (_See page 43_)]
+
+
+
+
+
+Cosy Corner Series
+
+
+AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO
+
+AND OTHER STORIES
+
+By Annie Fellows Johnston
+
+    Author of
+    "The Little Colonel Series," "Big Brother," "The
+    Story of Dago," "Ole Mammy's Torment," etc.
+
+    _Illustrated by_
+    W. L. Taylor and others
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    _Boston_ [Illustration: Decoration]
+    _L. C. Page & Company_
+    [Illustration: Decoration] _1904._
+
+
+
+
+    _Copyright 1889, 1890, 1893, 1894, 1895, 1899,_
+    BY PERRY MASON COMPANY
+
+    _Copyright, 1903_
+    BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+    (INCORPORATED)
+
+    _All rights reserved_
+
+    Published August, 1903
+
+
+    Colonial Press
+    Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+    Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGMENT
+
+
+These stories first appeared in the _Youth's Companion_. The author
+wishes to acknowledge the courtesy of the editors in permitting her to
+republish them in the present volume.
+
+Messrs. L. C. Page and Company wish also to acknowledge the courtesy of
+the editors in granting them permission to use the original
+illustrations.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                        PAGE
+    AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO                     13
+    THE CAPTAIN'S CELEBRATION             35
+    JODE'S CIRCUS MONEY                   51
+    JIMMY'S ERRAND                        71
+    WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY AT HARDYVILLE   89
+    AN OLD DAGUERREOTYPE                 113
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                                  PAGE
+  "AT FIRST HE ALWAYS BROUGHT SOME BOY WITH HIM" (_See page 43_)
+                                                        _Frontispiece_
+
+  "SHE LISTENED INTENTLY, EXPECTANTLY"                              28
+
+  "SHE SAT SMILING HAPPILY IN THE DEPTHS OF THE BLACK SUNBONNET"    31
+
+  "MR. GATES KICKED HIS FEET AGAINST THE ANDIRONS"                  93
+
+
+
+
+AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO
+
+
+AUNT 'LIZA BARNES leaned over the front gate at the end of the garden
+path, and pulled her black sunbonnet farther over her wrinkled face to
+shade her dim eyes from the glare of the morning sun. Something unusual
+was happening down the street, judging from the rapidly approaching
+noise and dust.
+
+Aunt 'Liza had been weeding her little vegetable garden at the back of
+the house when she first heard the confused shouting of many voices. She
+thought it was a runaway, and hurried to the gate as fast as her
+rheumatic joints would allow.
+
+Runaway teams had often startled the sleepy streets of this little
+Indiana village, but never before had such a wild procession raced
+through its thoroughfares. Two well-grown calves dashed past, dragging
+behind them an overturned, home-made cart, to which they were harnessed
+by pieces of clothes-lines and rusty trace-chains.
+
+Behind them came a breathless crowd of shouting boys and barking dogs.
+They were gasping in the heat and the clouds of yellow dust their feet
+had kicked up. Aunt 'Liza's black sunbonnet leaned farther over the gate
+as she called shrilly to the boy who brought up the rear, "What's the
+matter, Ben?"
+
+The boy dropped out of the race and came back and leaned against the
+fence, still grinning.
+
+"Running isn't much in my line," he panted, as he wiped his fat,
+freckled face on his shirtsleeve. "But it was too funny to see them
+calves kick up their heels and light out. One is Joe Meadows's and one
+is Jeff Whitman's. They're broke in to work single, and pull all right
+that way. But the boys took a notion to make 'em work double. This is
+the first time they've tried it. Put bits in their mouths, too, and
+drive 'em with reins like horses. My! But didn't they go lickety-split!"
+
+Aunt 'Liza chuckled. Seventy-five years had made her bent and feeble,
+but her sense of fun and her sympathies were still fresh and quick.
+Every boy in the place felt that she was his friend.
+
+In her tumble-down cottage on the outskirts of the town she lived alone,
+excepting when her drunken, thriftless son Henry came back to be taken
+care of awhile. She supported herself by selling vegetables, chickens,
+and eggs.
+
+Most people had forgotten that she had once lived in much better
+circumstances. Whatever longings she may have had for the prosperity of
+her early days, no one knew about them. Perhaps it was because she never
+talked of herself, and was so ready to listen to the complaints of
+others, that everybody went to her with their troubles.
+
+The racing calves soon came to a halt. In a few minutes the procession
+came back, and halted quietly in front of the little garden gate. Jeff
+was leading the calves, which looked around with mild, reproachful eyes,
+as if wondering at the disturbance.
+
+"Aunt 'Liza," said Jeff, "can you lend me a strap or something? The
+reins broke. That's how they happened to get away from me."
+
+"You can take the rope hanging up in the well-shed if you'll bring it
+back before night."
+
+"All right, Aunt 'Liza. I'll do as much for you some day. Just look at
+Daisy and Bolivar! We're going to take them to the fair next fall, and
+enter them as the fastest trotting calves on record."
+
+"Boys are such harum-scarum creatures," said the old woman, as she bent
+painfully over her weeding again. "Likely enough Jeff'll never think of
+that rope another time."
+
+But after dinner, as she sat out on a bench by the back door, smoking
+her cob-pipe, Jeff came around the house with the rope on his arm.
+
+"Sit down and rest a spell," insisted the old woman. "I get powerful
+lonesome day in and day out, with scarcely anybody to pass a word with."
+
+"Where's Henry?" Jeff asked.
+
+"Off on another spree," she answered, bitterly. "I tell you, Jeff, it's
+a hard thing for a mother to have to say about a son, but many and
+many's the time I've wished the Lord had a-taken him when he was a
+baby."
+
+"Maybe he'll come all right yet, Aunt 'Liza," said Jeff.
+
+"Not he. Not an honest day's work has he done since he left the army,"
+she went on. "He was steady enough before the war, but camp life seemed
+to upset him like. He was just a boy, you see, and he fell in with a
+rough lot that started him to drinking and gambling. He's never been the
+same since. Pity the war took my poor Mac instead. _He_ never would 'a'
+left his old mother to drudge and slave to keep soul and body together."
+
+Jeff listened in amazement to this sudden burst of confidence. He had
+never heard her complain before, and scarcely knew how to answer her.
+
+"Why, Aunt 'Liza, I never knew before that you had two sons!" he said.
+
+"No, I suppose not," answered the old woman, sadly. "I suppose
+everybody's forgotten him but me. My Mac never had his dues. He never
+had justice done him. No, he never had justice done him." She kept
+repeating the words.
+
+"He ought to have come home a captain, with a sword, for he was a brave
+boy, my Mac was. His picture is in the front room, if you've a mind to
+step in and look at it, and his cap and his canteen are hanging on the
+peg where he left them. Dear, dear! what a long time that's been!"
+
+Jeff had all a boy's admiration for a hero. He took the faded cap
+reverently from its peg to examine the bullet-hole in the crown. He
+turned the battered canteen over and over, wishing he knew how it came
+by all its dents and bruises. The face that looked out from the old
+ambrotype with such steadfast eyes showed honesty in every line.
+
+"Doesn't look much like old Henry," thought Jeff.
+
+"Won't you tell me about him, Aunt 'Liza?" he asked, as he seated
+himself on the door-step again. "I always did love to hear about the
+war."
+
+It was not often she had such an attentive listener. He questioned her
+eagerly, and she took a childish delight in recalling every detail
+connected with her "soldier-boy." It had been so many, many years since
+she had spoken of him to any one.
+
+"Yes, he was wounded twice," she told him, "and lay for weeks in a
+hospital. Then he was six months in a Southern prison, and escaped and
+joined the army again. He had risked his own life, too, to save his
+colonel. Nobody had shown more courage and daring than he. Everybody
+told me that, but other men were promoted and sent home with titles. My
+boy came home to die, with only scars and a wasting fever."
+
+Thrilled by her story, Jeff entered so fully into the spirit of the
+recital that he, too, forgot that McIntyre Barnes was only one among
+many thousands of heroes who were never raised above the rank of
+private. Mother-love transfigured simple patriotism into more than
+heroism.
+
+As age came on she brooded over the thought more and more. Even the loss
+of one son and the neglect by the other did not cause her now such
+sorrow as that her country failed to recognize in her Mac the hero whom
+she all but worshipped.
+
+Jeff found himself repeating the old woman's words as he went toward
+home late in the afternoon:
+
+"No, Mac never had justice done him--he never had his dues."
+
+Several days after that Jeff and Joe stopped at the house again to
+borrow a pail.
+
+"We forgot to water the calves this morning," Jeff explained, "and
+they've had a pretty tough time hauling brush. They pull together
+splendidly now. We've been clearing out Mr. Spalding's orchard."
+
+"Look around and help yourselves," Aunt 'Liza answered, briskly. "When
+once I get down on my knees to weed I'm too stiff to get up again in a
+hurry. You'll find how it is, maybe, when you get into your seventies."
+
+"Have you heard the news?" asked Joe, as he held the pail for Daisy to
+drink.
+
+"No. What, boys?"
+
+"You know Decoration Day comes next week, and for once Stone Bluff is
+going to celebrate. A brass band is coming over from Riggsville, and
+they've sent to Indianapolis for some big speaker. There's going to be a
+procession, and a lot of girls will march around, all dressed in white,
+to decorate the graves."
+
+Aunt 'Liza raised herself up painfully from the roll of carpet on which
+she had been kneeling. A bunch of weeds was still clasped in her stiff
+old fingers.
+
+"Is it really so, Jeff?" she asked, tremulously, as he started to the
+well for another pail of water. "Are they going to do all that?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt 'Liza."
+
+"If I cut down all my roses, won't you boys take 'em out to the
+graveyard for me? I'm afraid nobody'll remember my poor Mac."
+
+"Why, of course we will," they answered, heartily. "But why can't you go
+yourself, Aunt 'Liza? Everybody's going."
+
+Aunt 'Liza pushed back the big sunbonnet, and looked wistfully across
+the meadows to a distant grove of cedar-trees that were outlined against
+the clear May sky.
+
+"It's been six years since I was out there. I'm too old and stiff ever
+to walk that far again, but nobody knows how I long to go sometimes. I
+s'pose I must wait now until I'm carried there; but then it'll be too
+late to do anything for _him_."
+
+Jeff looked at Joe, then at the hopeless expression of the wrinkled
+face.
+
+"I'll tell you what we can do, Aunt 'Liza," he said, eagerly. "If you
+don't mind riding in such an outlandish rig, the cart is big enough to
+hold you comfortably, and we'll make the calves pull you out there. Will
+you go that way?"
+
+Two tears that were rolling slowly down the furrows of her cheek dropped
+off suddenly as she laughed aloud.
+
+"Why, bless your heart, sonny," she exclaimed, pleased as a child. "I'd
+ride behind a sheep to get there. What a fine picture we'll make, to be
+sure! They'll put us in a comic almanac."
+
+Then she added, solemnly, "I'll thank you to my dying day, boys; and
+mark my words, the Lord will surely bless you for your kindness to a
+lonely old woman."
+
+When they were out of sight of the house Joe lay down on the grass and
+rolled over and over in a fit of laughter.
+
+"My eyes! what a figure we'll cut!" he gasped. "We'll have to go early,
+or we'll have a crowd at our heels."
+
+"Don't you suppose," said Jeff, "that the grave will be in pretty bad
+shape, if she hasn't been out there for six years? If it is, she'll feel
+worse than if she had stayed at home."
+
+"There's a lot of 'em all grown up with weeds and briers, with nothing
+but 'Unknown' marked on the headboards," answered Joe. "Let's get a
+cartload of sod, and fix them all up this afternoon."
+
+A little while later the rickety gate of the neglected burying-ground
+opened to admit two boys shouldering spades and driving a team of
+calves.
+
+"Get up, Bolivar!" called Jeff; "you're working for your country now."
+
+That Decoration Day was a memorable one in Stone Bluff. The earliest
+sunshine that streaked the chimney-tops and gilded the broad Ohio,
+flowing past the little town, found Aunt 'Liza Barnes in her garden. She
+had stripped her bushes of early roses, and her borders of all their gay
+old-fashioned flowers, to twist into wreaths to carry with her.
+
+When the morning train came puffing in from Indianapolis a large crowd
+had assembled at the station to catch a glimpse of Colonel Wake, the
+orator of the day. Jeff Whitman was there, painfully conscious of being
+dressed in his best, and of having a dreaded duty to perform.
+
+He watched the colonel step into Judge Brown's carriage, and as it
+disappeared from view he walked slowly down the street in the direction
+it had gone.
+
+All the morning Jeff hung around Judge Brown's house, trying to make up
+his mind to carry out his plan. At last he set his teeth together, and
+resolutely opened the gate. He felt ready to sink into the ground when
+the judge himself opened the door. Jeff's voice sounded far away and
+unnatural when he asked permission to speak to Colonel Wake.
+
+In another moment the boy was in the dreaded presence, nervously
+fingering his hat, and trying to recall his carefully prepared speech.
+Then at sight of the colonel's smiling face his embarrassment vanished.
+
+Before he realized it he had poured out the whole story of Aunt 'Liza's
+hero.
+
+"We are going to take her out there this afternoon," he said, in
+conclusion. "She hasn't been for six years, and maybe she won't live to
+go another year. She says people always praise Captain Bowles, who's
+buried there, and Corporal Reed, and even the little drummer boy, but
+they never say anything about her Mac. And--and--well, I thought if you
+knew what a splendid soldier he was, and the brave things he did, maybe
+you'd just mention him, too. It would please the old lady so much."
+
+The colonel promised, and gave Jeff a hearty handshake, saying he wanted
+to be introduced to Mrs. Barnes, and would depend on Jeff to point her
+out to him.
+
+Nearly every one walked out to Cedar Ridge. The way was not long, and
+by-paths led through shady lanes, where blackberry vines and wild roses
+trailed over the fence-corners.
+
+Colonel Wake and the judge drove in a carriage. The flower girls were
+drawn in a gaily decorated moving car, and carried flags and flowers. No
+one saw Aunt 'Liza in her strange conveyance, for she had gone long
+before the procession started.
+
+"How nice and green it is," she said, fondly stroking the smooth sod. "I
+needn't have worried all this time, thinking it wasn't looked after.
+Somebody has been kind to my Mac. I was going to give every single one
+of these flowers to him, but now I want you boys to take some of them
+and put a wreath on every one of those six graves marked 'Unknown.'"
+
+When the procession came up she was sitting on the same old folded quilt
+that had done duty in the cart as a seat. She leaned contentedly against
+the wooden headboard, marked simply, "McIntyre Barnes," with the number
+of his company and regiment. People looked at her in surprise, wondering
+how she came there.
+
+The boys had hitched the calves out of sight, on the other side of the
+hill; for being boys, they could not bear to be laughed at.
+
+Overhead the spicy cedar boughs waved softly in the May breeze. Below
+the bluff the waters of the Ohio sparkled in the sun. During all the
+ceremonies that preceded Colonel Wake's speech Aunt 'Liza sat with her
+dim eyes fixed on the Kentucky shore across the shining of the river.
+
+While the band played and the choir sang she never turned her gaze from
+it. Then the clapping of hands that announced the speaker seemed to
+arouse her. She listened intently, expectantly.
+
+Colonel Wake was a true orator. He swayed the listening crowd at his
+will, first to laughter and then to tears.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE LISTENED INTENTLY, EXPECTANTLY."]
+
+The boy's story that morning had greatly interested him. At the
+close, after referring tenderly to the unknown dead, and offering his
+passing tribute to the others, he told the story of McIntyre Barnes's
+heroic life.
+
+He told it as only an old soldier and an eloquent speaker could tell it.
+The old woman, sitting on her folded quilt on her son's grave, threw off
+the black bonnet to catch every tone, every gesture, and smiled up into
+his face with proud, grateful eyes.
+
+She felt like a queen coming into a long-deferred kingdom. That was her
+Mac he was talking about! This great soldier knew him and honoured him.
+
+Somebody called for three cheers for McIntyre Barnes. As the lusty
+voices rang up through the cedar boughs and echoed across the water she
+bowed her head on the sod, and her happy tears fell like rain. Perhaps
+it was the speech that moved them. Perhaps it was the sight of that
+wrinkled, tear-wet face; for when the flower girls finished strewing
+their garlands every grave had been decorated, but McIntyre Barnes's had
+received more than all. It was completely covered with fragrant bloom.
+
+The people who stood near could not help smiling when the boys drove up
+with the little cart to which the frisky calves were hitched. But Aunt
+'Liza was in such an uplifted frame of mind that she would not have
+noticed had they laughed aloud.
+
+The colonel came and shook her hands, saying he was proud to know the
+mother of such a son. After that everybody else came crowding around to
+speak to her.
+
+The band started back toward town, playing a lively quickstep, and the
+crowd soon dispersed. The boys did not talk much as they walked homeward
+in the sunset beside Bolivar and Daisy.
+
+As for Aunt 'Liza, she sat smiling happily in the depths of the black
+sunbonnet, and saying over and over:
+
+"My Mac has had his dues at last. It was a long time, but he's had
+justice done him at last!"
+
+[Illustration: "SHE SAT SMILING HAPPILY IN THE DEPTHS OF THE BLACK
+SUNBONNET."]
+
+
+
+
+THE CAPTAIN'S CELEBRATION
+
+
+"IS there anything I can do for you, captain?" Doctor Morris had made
+the rounds of the hospital and was standing beside the bed in a narrow
+little room at the end of the hall. He took the old man's feeble hand in
+one of his firm ones, and with the other gently stroked the white hair
+back from his wrinkled forehead. This seemed to smooth away some pain,
+too, for the faded blue eyes looked up at him with a grateful smile.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "there is. I don't like to trouble you, doctor, but
+I do want a piece of an old broomstick, and if I could have it early in
+the morning, I'd be very much obliged to you, sir."
+
+"A broomstick!" repeated the doctor, in amazement, wondering if the old
+man's mind was beginning to wander. "What under the sun could you do
+with it?"
+
+A faint smile crossed the captain's face. Then a spell of coughing
+delayed the answer for a moment.
+
+"I want to carve something," he panted, "and broom-handle wood is easy
+to cut. The nurse has been like an angel to me all these weeks that I
+have been in the hospital. Ever since they moved me into this room by
+myself, I've known that I haven't much longer to live, and I want to
+leave her something to show that I appreciate her kindness, and was
+grateful for it."
+
+The doctor pressed the old man's hand as he went on: "I've been thinking
+I would like to make her a little chain. My grandfather taught me to
+carve such things when I was a lad. He was a Swiss, you know, and
+followed my mother over to this country soon after I was born. He was so
+old that all he could do was just to sit under the trees and carve
+little toys to amuse the children. I have his pocket-knife yet," he
+added, with a smile of childish satisfaction that made the old face
+pathetic.
+
+He looked down at his right hand, so twisted out of shape that it was
+nearly useless. "I can't do as good work as I used to do thirty years
+ago, before that Minie ball crippled me," he said. "But Miss Mary will
+make allowances; she will know that I remembered and was grateful, don't
+you think?" he asked, anxiously.
+
+"Most certainly," answered the doctor, stooping to arrange the patient's
+pillows more comfortably about him. "But, captain, I am afraid that I
+can't allow you to undertake anything that will be a tax on your
+strength. You haven't any to spare."
+
+So deep a shade of disappointment crept into the old man's wistful eyes
+that the doctor felt an ache in his throat, and drove it away with a
+little laugh. "Pshaw!" he said, hastily. "You shall have a mile of
+broomsticks if you want them. I'll send my son Max up with one inside
+the next hour."
+
+The gong had just struck the signal for dismissal in the third-ward
+school building, when the busy physician drove up to the curbstone in
+his sleigh to get his boy. "Max will be down in a minute, Doctor
+Morris!" called a boy, as he ran past the sleigh with his skates slung
+over his shoulder. "Miss Clay kept some of 'em to see about celebrating
+Washington's Birthday."
+
+"Thank you, Ned," answered the doctor. He drew the robes closer about
+him as he walked the horse up and down, for there was a keen wind
+blowing this cold February afternoon. Presently a group of boys loitered
+by and stood on the corner, waiting for the rest of Miss Clay's pupils
+to join them.
+
+"I'm glad Miss Clay isn't my teacher!" one of them exclaimed, in a loud
+voice. "Skating's too good now to waste time learning to spout pieces."
+
+"Well, I think it's about time to give George Washington a rest," said
+the largest boy in the group. "He's a back number, and I'll tell her so,
+too, if she asks me to say any of her old pieces."
+
+"That's a pretty way to talk about the Father of your Country!" piped up
+a little fellow in spectacles, who was sliding on the ice in the
+gutter. "Back number! I just dare you to say that to Miss Clay!"
+
+The doctor overheard this, but he did not hear the quarrel that
+followed, for Max came running down just then, and climbed into the
+sleigh.
+
+"You're late to-day, my boy. What's the trouble?"
+
+"Oh, Miss Clay kept us to arrange a programme for Washington's Birthday,
+and nobody wanted to take part. We're all tired of the same old thing
+year after year--just songs and recitations and dialogues about the same
+old fellow!"
+
+"A fine lot of patriots this next generation is going to turn out!" said
+the doctor, so sternly that Max gave him a quick glance of surprise, and
+then flushed at his evident disapproval. The grim look crept into the
+man's eyes that was always there when he was absorbed in a critical
+case.
+
+"O papa, are we going home?" cried Max, in a disappointed tone, as the
+horse turned in that direction.
+
+"For a few minutes," answered Doctor Morris. "I want you to take
+something to one of my patients at the hospital. I'll leave you with
+him while I go on to the Berridge place."
+
+Max, who had expected a long sleigh-ride, forgot his disappointment when
+he found that Captain Wilshire was an old soldier, who bore the scars of
+more than one battle. An internal wound, received at Shiloh, still
+troubled him at times, and exposure during the last year of the war had
+brought on the consumption that was now slowly taking his life away.
+
+"He is one of the truest patriots it has ever been my honour to meet,"
+said the doctor. "I have known many statesmen in my time, several
+generals and two Presidents. Any one of them might well be proud to take
+off his hat to Joe Wilshire. When you see the old hero lying alone, Max,
+in that cheerless little room in the hospital, I want you to think of
+the reason why I so greatly respect him. It is not simply because he was
+brave in battle, or because his heroic cheerfulness kept him alive
+through half a year in Libby Prison, or because he came home with the
+seeds of disease planted in his system and his good right hand crippled
+and useless. Many a man has encountered these tests, and yet has lost
+his zeal for his country as soon as the cannon smoke cleared away and
+the martial music was done."
+
+"Then why is it, papa?" asked Max, for they had reached the house, and
+the doctor was looking in the bottom of the sleigh for the
+hitching-strap.
+
+"Well, when he came home, he was of course poor. He made a meagre living
+for his wife and baby with only a few acres of land and of fruit-trees
+with which to do it. Several times his old comrades suggested to him
+that he ought to apply for some fat government office, but he always
+said, 'Boys, I know that you mean well, and that you and my friends
+could probably get me in on the score of my being a disabled soldier;
+but I know and you know that I am not competent to fill such an office.
+If I could fill an office, and at the same time serve my country by
+doing so, I'd unhesitatingly take one. But I'd only be serving myself by
+filling my pockets at the government's expense. No, I'm obliged to you,
+boys, but I can't feel that it would be exactly honourable.'
+
+"Now that's patriotism, Max, of the highest type, showing unselfish
+loyalty and love of country!" exclaimed the doctor, as he sprang out of
+the sleigh. "I was disturbed and hurt just now, when I heard the boys
+talking about Washington being a 'back number.' It hurt because there is
+some truth in it. Wars call out such generals, but there are too few men
+in these times of peace who step into office with Washington's high,
+unselfish motives. And I fear the number is few of men who will
+deliberately give up the honour and emolument of office because they
+believe some one else can render better service, or because principle
+pulls harder than public purse-strings. Yes, such patriotism is getting
+to be a 'back number'--so far back that it has grown burdensome for some
+people to honour it, even once a year."
+
+Max had seldom heard his father speak so indignantly before, and looked
+at him in surprise as he gave a final fierce tug at the knot he had tied
+in the halter.
+
+An hour later, when Doctor Morris called at the hospital, Max came
+running down-stairs with his eyes shining and an old battered canteen
+under his arm. "The captain gave it to me!" he said. "He has ever so
+many old relics in his chest, and there is a splendid story about each
+one. O papa, isn't he just the lovablest old man? He asked me to come
+often and bring some of the boys. He says he gets so lonesome!"
+
+Nobody but the nurse knew how many times Max climbed the hospital stairs
+during the next two weeks. At first he always brought some boy with him
+to listen to the captain's stories, and carry away some relic as a
+treasured keepsake from the chest beside his bed; but later, the captain
+coughed too frequently to talk much. Then Max came alone, with bunches
+of hothouse flowers and little paper bags full of tempting fruit.
+
+No matter when the boy came, he always found the captain busy with his
+carving. Day by day the old broomstick was slowly approaching a
+wonderful transformation. It would soon be turned into a long, slender
+chain, with each tiny, separate link perfectly fashioned. Sometimes, the
+nurse, not knowing that it was intended for her, and wondering at the
+old man's childish impatience to finish it, would gently insist on
+taking it out of his feverish fingers.
+
+"Wait till to-morrow, when you are stronger," she would urge. He would
+then reluctantly give it up, but the thought of his work stayed with
+him. Even in his sleep his poor crippled hand bent as if to grasp it,
+and the left one feebly repeated the motions of wielding a knife.
+
+"I have set my heart on having it done by Washington's Birthday," he
+whispered one day to Max. "Oh, if I can only hold out to finish it!" he
+added, as he sank back wearily. The nurse put the unfinished work aside,
+but the next morning he begged so imploringly for it that she had not
+the heart to refuse.
+
+When the twenty-second of February came, Miss Clay's schoolroom was in
+gala dress for the occasion. She had been untiring in her efforts to
+make the ceremonies a success, but unconsciously to himself the old
+captain had done far more than she to arouse an interest in the
+programme.
+
+Max came first with his old canteen, and repeated the story that the
+captain had told him, of the brave comrade who had carried it. Then one
+of the boys brought an old army cape of faded blue, and another a broken
+spur. Simple tales were told of love and loyalty that had never found
+their way into print, but they stirred the hearts of the hearers in the
+schoolroom with a pathetic tenderness for these unknown men who had
+been so bravely true.
+
+Doctor Morris came into the room just in time to see the big fellow
+stand up who had declared the Father of his Country a "back number." He,
+too, had been with the captain, for he carried an old blood-stained,
+bullet-torn flag. He told its history so well that the tears came to his
+eyes in his earnestness, and the audience sympathized with the feeling
+and applauded him when he had finished.
+
+"I see that we have a member of the school board with us," said Miss
+Clay, bowing to Doctor Morris. "We want to hear from him before we have
+our last song."
+
+This was the opportunity the doctor was waiting for. He took a little
+package from his pocket. It was the captain's finished chain, from which
+hung a tiny anchor, beautifully carved and polished. "The nurse showed
+this to me a little while ago," he said, "and I asked her to let me
+bring it here for you to see."
+
+The speech that followed was very much like the one he had made to Max
+in the sleigh--all afire with admiration for the man who, with crippled
+hand and with empty pockets, had turned his back on office, for love of
+country, for conscience' sake.
+
+"But of all the noble lessons of this old man's life," he said, in
+conclusion, "none is more beautiful in spirit than this last act; this
+expression of gratitude to his faithful nurse. What is so commonplace,
+so soon forgotten as a bit of old broom-handle? But look at this." Again
+he held up the chain. "See the transforming power of a noble purpose! He
+has made of it an anchor, and fastened to her heart, with every link,
+the memory of his great gratitude.
+
+"I don't want to preach," he went on, "but I must say that you young
+people, I fear, miss the spirit with which the nation should honour this
+day, if you do not see that the success of its celebration depends
+entirely on this same transforming power. A heartfelt gratitude to the
+heroes who won and kept our liberty can make beautiful the most
+commonplace act of commemoration."
+
+Later, when the February afternoon was nearing twilight, there was a
+muffled sound of fife and drum on the hospital stairs. The many feet
+stepped lightly, but with a measured tramp, tramp as Miss Clay's school
+marched down the long corridor, four abreast.
+
+The captain had been delirious at intervals all the afternoon. Now he
+opened his eyes with a puzzled expression, for the martial music made
+him forget his surroundings.
+
+"It's just the young people from the school," explained the nurse,
+opening the door wider, that he might see the long rows of bright-faced
+boys and girls in the hall.
+
+Max came in and took the old soldier's hand, stroking it affectionately
+while he talked. "They're going to sing 'Hail Columbia,' captain. You
+know how it goes:
+
+    "Let independence be our boast,
+     Ever mindful what it cost,
+     Ever grateful for the prize!"
+
+"You see we never were really 'mindful what it cost' until we knew you,
+captain," Max went on, "so we never thought about being especially
+grateful to anybody before. This is a sort of thank-offering to such men
+as Washington--and you."
+
+The captain tried to raise himself from the pillows--tried to speak some
+word of greeting to the young people who were watching him, but sank
+back exhausted.
+
+"I can't!" he said to the nurse in a voice that trembled pitifully. "You
+tell them how glad--how proud--" Then speech failed him. The next moment
+the boys and girls began to sing.
+
+A happy light came into the dim old eyes, as the sweet voices were
+lifted up in the inspiring airs that he loved so well.
+
+They marched out softly when the songs were done, waving good-bye to him
+with their handkerchiefs. Down the street the music of fife and drum
+sounded fainter and fainter. The room was growing dark.
+
+Max, who lingered behind, saw the white head turn on the pillow and
+heard a long-drawn sigh of satisfaction: "The dear children! God help
+'em to keep the old flag flying!" And that was the captain's last
+audible prayer.
+
+
+
+
+JODE'S CIRCUS MONEY
+
+
+IT was nearly school-time, but Jode didn't seem to be at all in a hurry.
+He sat on the wood-pile with the empty chip-basket beside him, slowly
+untying his shoes. The old gobbler strutted around the corner of the
+kitchen, and halted suddenly with one foot drawn up, as he caught sight
+of the red stockings.
+
+"Quit! quit!" he cried, stretching his neck with an angry gobble.
+
+Aunt Jane had come to the door to shake the table-cloth. She stood a
+moment, sniffing the warm spring air, and peering up at the pink
+peach-tree buds through her spectacles.
+
+"Quit! quit!" cried the turkey again, and his angry voice attracted her
+attention.
+
+"Well, Mary Ann," she exclaimed, "I just wish you'd see what that boy's
+a-doin'! It isn't for me to say, but if he was _mine_, he'd not go
+around barefoot this kind of weather. Next thing will be croup. You'd
+better 'tend to him."
+
+"Meddlesome old thing!" muttered Jode, disrespectfully, throwing a chip
+at the gobbler. "Both of you had to go and tell."
+
+The table-cloth whisked into the kitchen, followed by the complaining
+voice, and soon after his mother came to the door and called him.
+
+"Have you fed the calves, Joseph?"
+
+"Yes'm."
+
+"And filled the chip-basket?"
+
+"Almost."
+
+"Then hurry, my son; it is nearly school-time."
+
+"I say, ma," he began, "can't I go barefooted? It's plenty warm, and
+lots of the boys do."
+
+"Why, no, child," she answered. "I told you the other day not to think
+of such a thing for another month at least. Put on your shoes
+immediately, and don't let me hear another word about it. It's of no use
+to tease."
+
+Jode knew that, perfectly. In all the ten years of his varied
+experiences, it never had been of any use. Now, although the feet that
+slipped back into the red stockings and stout shoes were very loath to
+go, they went slowly but surely in.
+
+"Wish't I was an Indian," he said, as he went through the orchard,
+balancing his geography on his head and swinging his lunch-basket, while
+the dog frisked around him. He had a queer way of talking to himself. "I
+could stay out-doors all the time then, and never have to go to school.
+Indians have a better time than anybody, 'thout it's dogs. O Penny,
+ain't you glad you're a dog?"
+
+The first bell was just beginning to ring when he went through the gate
+at the end of the lane, so he had plenty of time to stop when he reached
+Squire Hooper's barn, and look at the flaming show-bills with which it
+was covered.
+
+Johnny Harris was there ahead of him, and he noticed, with a pang of
+envy, that his feet were bare, and that his stubby toes were digging up
+the soft earth, as he stood looking at the pictures.
+
+"_I'm_ goin' to the show," announced Jode, proudly. "Our hired man said
+he'd take me if I'd pay. Pa always pays me every spring for dropping
+corn, so I'll have more than enough."
+
+Johnny did not say anything, for his father was the drunken shoemaker of
+the little settlement, and the cross-road tavern took all their spare
+pennies. He stood and looked with longing eyes at the pictures of the
+animals. He knew what a stir there would be circus-day. How the wagons
+would begin to rattle along the roads at daylight from all directions;
+and how the band would play in town; and the frightened country horses
+would prance, and the crowds of people would block the streets to see
+the long, gay procession. But it would be six miles away, and he would
+miss it all.
+
+While they looked at the side-show pictures,--the fat woman and the
+two-headed man and the African giant,--the second bell began to ring and
+away they raced to the schoolhouse. In his haste Jode left his geography
+on the gate-post by Squire Hooper's barn, and never thought of it again
+until after the noon-hour, when they came tramping in from the
+playground.
+
+"You are very careless, Joseph," said the teacher. "Sit with Harris to
+study, and don't let it happen again, sir."
+
+The boys put their heads together behind the map of the New England
+States, and began studying their boundaries.
+
+"Let's begin with the littlest," whispered Jode. "And don't you talk to
+me, old fellow; I don't want to be kept in again after school. Rhode
+Island is bounded on the north by Massachusetts, on the east by--"
+
+"Oh, say," interrupted Johnny, "I've got some field-mice in a box at
+home. I was going to bring them to-day, but was afraid the teacher would
+take 'em away. They're the cunningest little things! Come over after
+school and I'll show 'em to you."
+
+"All right," whispered Jode, with one eye on the teacher. "On the north
+by Massachusetts, on the east by Massachusetts and Atlantic Ocean, on
+the south by--"
+
+"Oh gracious! look there!" interrupted Johnny again. "Look at Boney
+Woods! What's he a-doin'?"
+
+Boney had his book propped up in front of him. His head was bowed
+studiously over his lesson, but his lesson was farthest from his
+thoughts. He had cut a piece of leather from the top of his boot-leg,
+and was making a pair of spectacles.
+
+"Oh, never mind him. Come on, and let's learn this. I've got through
+half the day all right, and don't want to spoil it all now. Rhode Island
+is bounded on the north by Massachusetts, on the east by Massachusetts
+and Atlantic Ocean, on the south by Atlantic--"
+
+"I say, Jode," interrupted his seat-mate, "I can pick up three marbles
+at a time with my toes."
+
+"So could I," answered Jode, "if I didn't have my shoes on."
+
+"Bet you couldn't!"
+
+"Bet I could!"
+
+"Take 'em off and try," coaxed Johnny.
+
+"Well, I'll just show you," retorted Jode.
+
+There was a class in algebra at the board, and the teacher was very busy
+explaining some problem. "Let _x_ equal the length of the fish," he was
+saying. Jode raised his foot carefully and began to untie his shoe.
+
+"And let _y_ equal the length of its tail," continued the teacher,
+completely absorbed in the problem.
+
+In a moment the shoe slipped off noiselessly, and Johnny put three of
+his largest marbles in a row on a crack in the floor.
+
+"Aw, that ain't fair," said Jode. "You can't pick up that big Pompey
+yourself. Put down three little grays."
+
+Johnny grumbled, but made the change, and Jode triumphantly picked them
+up with his toes.
+
+"There," said he. "What did I tell you?" Just then one of the marbles
+began to slip. He tried to regain his hold, and all three of them
+dropped noisily, and went rolling across the floor.
+
+The teacher turned quickly, and his eyes fell, not on Johnny and Jode,
+but on Boney Woods, who had finished the spectacles and put them on, and
+was now lolling out his tongue, and making hideous faces at the smaller
+children.
+
+So intent was he on this, that he did not know he was being watched,
+until the awful stillness that had settled over the noisy room warned
+him that something was the matter. Then he faced around in his seat in
+great haste, to make the discovery that he was the centre of attraction.
+
+"Are you quite through with your little exhibition, Bonaparte?" asked
+the teacher. "Come here! Just as you are--don't take them off."
+
+Poor Boney went up with fear and trembling.
+
+"I'll settle with you after school, sir. Take a seat on the platform and
+study your lesson."
+
+Boney stumbled to his place, and sat looking at his book, with hot,
+briny tears stealing down under the huge spectacles. From past
+experiences he had learned too well what that meant. The school settled
+down into almost breathless silence, and the guilty couple began to
+study violently.
+
+"I can't get my shoe laced up without his seeing me," whispered Jode,
+presently.
+
+"Oh, leave it off," begged Johnny, "and slip the other one off, too. It
+feels awful good to get rid of shoes." He stretched out his ten little
+brown toes, and surveyed them with a satisfied air. "See them feet?" he
+asked. "Them old feet don't care for nothing but glass. They can stand
+rocks or anything. Why, in summer, I can tramp down the thorniest kind
+of bushes, blackberryin', and never mind the briars a bit."
+
+"Aw, I wouldn't be such a brag," responded Jode. Nevertheless, he
+silenced the inward voice that reminded him of his mother's command, and
+followed his little friend's example.
+
+It was soon time for the afternoon recess, and they all went trooping
+out into the warm sunshine, all but Boney, doomed to solitude and the
+leather spectacles.
+
+Half a dozen boys crossed the playground, and went to the blacksmith
+shop on the other side of the road. Jode followed slowly, for the sticks
+and stones hurt his bare feet, and his conscience hurt him more, as he
+remembered his mother's parting instructions.
+
+As usual the good-natured blacksmith was busy at his anvil, and paid no
+attention to the crowd of boys making themselves at home in his smithy.
+A seedy-looking stranger on a mule rode up to the door to have a loose
+shoe fastened in place.
+
+"Be keerful, young 'uns," he drawled, "this 'ere mewel's heels is
+loaded."
+
+The boys shoved back a little to give the newcomer more room, and then
+kept on shoving each other in play. The end boy fell against Johnny, and
+Johnny fell against Jode, and Jode took another step backward. This time
+his little bare foot came down on the piece of hot iron that the
+blacksmith had thrown aside when he went to wait on his new customer.
+
+Jode never distinctly remembered what happened after that, he was so
+nearly crazed with the fierce pain. He knew that the blacksmith lifted
+him in his strong arms, and carried him, screaming, to the house. He
+felt some woman bandage his foot with something cool and soothing, and
+wash his hot, flushed face. Then two of the big boys carried him home,
+and laid him on the sitting-room lounge, and went off, forgetting to
+close the door.
+
+He sat up and called his mother. No one answered. Everything was so
+still about the house that his own voice sounded strange when he called.
+Then he remembered that she had gone to a quilting that afternoon, and
+that Aunt Jane had built a fire away down by the ash-hopper and was
+making soap. So it was useless to call.
+
+Three or four chickens, seeing the door open, seized that opportunity to
+venture in, and walked around pecking at the carpet, and looking
+inquiringly at the disconsolate figure on the lounge.
+
+"Shoo!" he cried, savagely, "you tormentin' old things!" Then he hopped
+across the room and banged the door after them, and hopped back.
+
+The throbbing pain in his foot, and the deserted appearance of the
+house, brought the tears to his eyes. Then he remembered the show, and
+that his foot would not be well enough for him to earn the money
+dropping corn. He would have to miss it. Throwing himself on the lounge
+again, he cried softly to himself with great sobs that nearly choked
+him.
+
+When his mother came home, she found him fast asleep with cheeks and
+lashes wet, and sobbing at intervals in his sleep.
+
+Aunt Jane undertook to lecture him next day about his disobedience and
+what it led to, but he began to cry again, and she relented.
+
+"Well, Joseph," she said, looking over her square-bowed spectacles, "I
+guess you've had a hard lesson, and one you won't forget in a hurry. As
+long as your heart's set on goin' to that show, if you'll learn to sew
+carpet-rags I'll pay you by the pound, and you can earn the money that
+way."
+
+So Jode went patiently to work with thread and needle, and all those
+long April days sat in the house with his foot on a pillow, and sewed
+yards and yards of carpet-rags.
+
+The pounds grew slowly, but the day came at last when he rolled his
+balls into the sack with Aunt Jane's, and two new silver dimes and a
+nickel jingled in his pockets.
+
+Johnny Harris came every day to ask about the foot, and see the size of
+the balls. He looked enviously at the shining coins when Jode proudly
+displayed them.
+
+"Gracious! Ain't she pretty?" he exclaimed, spinning one of the dimes
+around on the table. Then he balanced it on his thumb-nail, and tried
+its edge with his teeth, and finally put it in his mouth, while he
+watched Aunt Jane get out the steelyards, to weigh the warp for the new
+carpet.
+
+Presently he turned to Jode with a white, scared face. "Oh, I've done
+swallered it!"
+
+"You mean old thing," cried Jode. "I worked days and days to earn that
+dime. O Johnny! what _did_ you do it for?"
+
+"I didn't mean to," protested Johnny, eagerly. "It just slipped down as
+easy--this way." Suiting the action to the word, he took up the other
+dime, and popped it into his mouth.
+
+"I was rolling it 'round with my tongue this way, and I sort o' choked,
+and it just slipped--ker-che-ew!"
+
+Unlucky Johnny! This dime slipped also, for a mighty sneeze seized him,
+and sent the money rolling across the floor. Both boys darted after it
+with outstretched hands, but it bounced through the open door, and
+slipped out of sight behind the old stone steps. It was useless to
+attempt to move them. The toys of half a century had found a
+hiding-place in that crack, and Aunt Jane herself had, years ago, seen
+it swallow up the cherished treasure of her childish affection--a string
+of amber beads.
+
+Johnny stood in open-mouthed horror at what he had done, while Jode's
+gaze wandered from the steps to Johnny, as if he saw the whole
+menagerie, animals, tent and all, disappearing down that gaping crack
+and the little red throat. It was more than he could bear.
+
+"It's all _your_ fault, Johnny Harris; if it hadn't been for you, I
+wouldn't have burnt my foot in the first place. I just can't bear to do
+it all over again, and besides, there isn't time anyway."
+
+He lifted his hand angrily, and slapped Johnny's fat, freckled face.
+Then both the boys began to cry.
+
+Aunt Jane disappeared in the closet for something, and stood there a
+moment, shaking with inaudible laughter, till the square-bowed
+spectacles slid down her nose. She looked very stern, though, when she
+came out and said, "There! there! boys, that's enough. It's no use to
+cry over spilled milk or swallowed money, either."
+
+"Oh, please, ma'am, Miss Jane," begged Johnny, "won't you teach me to
+sew carpet-rags? I'll pay him back sure if you'll let me."
+
+Aunt Jane looked at the clumsy little hands, brown, dirty, and covered
+with warts, and shook her head. It seemed a hopeless task. But the
+earnest look on the face and in the anxious eyes made her relent, and
+she gave a reluctant promise.
+
+The rag-sewing commenced again. This time two boys sat on the door-step,
+longing to be out in the spring wind and sunshine, and one nursed his
+lame foot, and one wrestled manfully with thread that would snarl, and
+needles that would stick into his clumsy fingers.
+
+As they sewed they talked, and the subject that came up oftenest was the
+circus. How Johnny longed to go! After awhile a hope whispered to him,
+that maybe he could pay his debt to Jode in time to earn enough money to
+go himself.
+
+Although Aunt Jane sorted the rags so that most of the short ones fell
+to her lot, and the long ones to Johnny's, and contributed many a yard
+on the sly, Jode's foot was well before Johnny proudly paid over the two
+dimes, and only a long, red scar remained, to remind Jode of his
+disobedience and punishment.
+
+"Wisht I was goin', too," sighed Johnny, when the last pound was weighed
+and delivered.
+
+Then, regardless of ceremony, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and
+started home on the run. He did not go all the way. Aunt Jane spied him
+when she went to the barn for eggs. He was lying on the hay with his
+face in his arms.
+
+She stood and looked at him a moment, thinking what an honest little
+heart it was, beating under the patched, faded jacket,--thinking of his
+drunken father and his miserable home,--of how much he wanted to go with
+the other boys, and how keenly he felt his poverty.
+
+Then she took the eggs to the house, and tying her sunbonnet tighter,
+started resolutely down the lane to the big road in the direction of
+Johnny's home. The hand under her gingham apron gripped firmly an old
+leather purse.
+
+That evening as Jode sat in the twilight, just inside the door,
+listening to the frogs croaking in the meadow-pond, a dusky little
+figure came running down the path. It was Johnny.
+
+"Hi! Jode," he cried, "I'm a-goin', too! I'm a-goin', too! I'm too glad
+to hold still. The money jest rained down like the manna on ole Moses! I
+don't know who left it, but it was left at our house, and it was left
+fer me!"
+
+Then, throwing himself on the ground, he turned one somersault after
+another down the path into the dewy darkness of the warm April
+night.
+
+
+
+
+JIMMY'S ERRAND
+
+
+"WELL, I declare if Abe isn't the most forgetful boy I ever saw!"
+exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, as she emptied the contents of a large
+market-basket upon the kitchen table. "This makes the second time he's
+been to town and back this week, and he's forgotten that soda both
+times. Jimmy!" she called out to a freckle-faced boy who was making the
+old dog walk around the kitchen floor on its hind feet, "climb up to the
+top pantry shelf and see if there's any spice left in those tin boxes."
+
+"What are you going to make, ma?" languidly inquired a pale girl who sat
+by the stove shaking with a chill.
+
+"Why, I intended to make a cake for the new preacher's donation-party,"
+answered Mrs. Perkins. "That's what the committee asked
+for--marble-cake and biscuits. Did you find anything, Jimmy?"
+
+"No'm. They're all empty." The boy jumped down and went back to the
+patient old dog, which he now converted into a wheelbarrow and trundled
+around on its clumsy fore paws.
+
+"What shall I do!" exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, in despair. "There's not a
+speck of spice or soda in the house."
+
+This was before the days of baking-powder, and it was eight miles to the
+nearest town.
+
+"I'll tell you," answered Maria, with her teeth chattering. "Let Abe
+saddle old Blaze and go up to Doctor Spinner's. He always keeps such
+things on hand, and we can send for some more quinine at the same time."
+
+"And be about as likely to get soap and knitting-needles as anything
+else!" replied her mother, with a frown. "It's a pity a boy as old as
+Abe is can't be trusted to remember anything!"
+
+"Let Jimmy go," suggested Maria. "It's only three miles, and he can
+easily get back by dinner-time."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Perkins, "I don't know of any reason why he shouldn't
+be trusted with the horse, and he can be depended on to do the errand a
+sight better than Abe."
+
+Jimmy's freckled face beamed with delight. He had expected to spend the
+morning hoeing in the garden. He had been waiting the last half-hour for
+his father to call him and set him at work; but it was not the prospect
+of escaping a disagreeable task or of cantering along the road on the
+old blaze-faced horse that pleased him most. It was the fact that his
+mother and Maria regarded him as more trustworthy than Abe, and Abe was
+nearly grown.
+
+He had never before so completely appreciated his true worth nor felt
+such a sense of his own importance as when his mother entrusted him with
+the errand, and gave him a message for the doctor's wife. Maria's words
+of praise were still in his ears when he ran down the path, hitching up
+a broken suspender as he went.
+
+"What are you up to now?" inquired Abe, as Jimmy walked into the barn in
+a lordly way and took down the saddle.
+
+"Up to takin' a ride," answered Jimmy, in a way that nettled his older
+brother.
+
+"Not on that saddle, you ain't!" retorted Abe. "I'm goin' to mill."
+
+"Then you'll have to ride bareback," was the cool reply. "I'm goin' on
+an errand for mother, and, what's more, I'm goin' to have the saddle.
+Can't I, pa?" he asked, as his father came in.
+
+"No, Jimmy," answered his father, when both boys had stated the case.
+"Abe is bigger, and he's got the farthest to go."
+
+Abe laughed provokingly. "I don't care!" muttered Jimmy. "_You_ couldn't
+be trusted to do the errand. Mother said so. So you needn't laugh."
+
+Abe's face flushed. He knew his failing, and did not like to be reminded
+of it.
+
+"You can take Maria's side-saddle!" called Mr. Perkins, as he went on
+out to the corn-crib.
+
+"Better not," remarked Abe. "It's brand-new, and she'd feel awful bad if
+anything should happen to it. It might get spoiled."
+
+Jimmy did not want to take it, and had not intended to do so, but the
+spirit of contrariness seemed to have possession of him. That remark
+settled the matter. "You might spoil it," he said, "but I guess
+Maria'll trust me to bring it home safe, if I am ever so much smaller
+than you!"
+
+Presently, seated astride the new side-saddle, Jimmy rode up to the
+kitchen door.
+
+"You don't care if I take it, do you?" he called to Maria. She wrapped
+herself more closely in the heavy shawl, and came out into the warm
+sunshine, her teeth still chattering.
+
+"No, I guess not," she said, putting out her shaking hand to feel the
+soft plush of the cushioned seat. "Isn't that a pretty shade of red?
+It's the handsomest one in the township. Oh, don't forget, Jimmy; mother
+said to ask Doctor Spinner to put up another bottle of tonic like that
+he gave me last spring."
+
+"All right!" said Jimmy, impatient to be off.
+
+Digging his heels in old Blaze's sides, he started down the road on a
+gallop. This was too lively a gait for the old horse to sustain long,
+and she soon settled down to a steady walk.
+
+For the first half-mile Jimmy sat very erect, with a growing sense of
+his own importance and superiority over his brother Abe. Then he
+yielded to the gracious influence of the sweet spring morning, and,
+throwing one foot over the pommel of the saddle, began to whistle in
+answer to a redbird's call.
+
+Presently he tired of riding sidewise, and by the time he reached the
+field where the Fishback boys were dropping corn he was up on his knees.
+Inspired by spectators, he urged his horse to go faster and faster, and
+scrambling to his feet as he came up with them, passed them with a
+cheer. They stopped their work long enough to look after him and wave
+their hats until he disappeared around a bend in the road.
+
+"It's a mighty nice thing," he thought, complacently, "to be able to
+ride around the country this way, when everybody else has to work."
+
+By this time he had reached the bridge across Pigeon Creek. It was
+shallow enough to ford at this place, and he concluded to try it.
+Clattering down the bank, he rode into the water with a splash. Overhead
+the great branches of the sycamore-trees leaned across the stream and
+met each other. It was cool and shady, and so still that the only sound
+he could hear was the gurgling noise old Blaze made as she bent her
+head to drink.
+
+Suddenly a shrill whistle made him start so violently that he almost
+lost his balance, and clutched at the loosened bridle to save himself
+from falling. Looking in the direction of the whistle, he saw two big
+bare feet dangling from a sycamore limb that hung half-way across the
+stream. Glancing up, he saw the owner of the feet. It was Coon Mills,
+the laziest, most "trifling" fellow in that part of the country--so
+everybody said.
+
+There was no need to ask him what he was doing, when the white blossoms
+of the dog-wood-trees had been proclaiming for a week, from every hill
+and hollow, that the fishing season had begun. His luck as a fisherman
+was as proverbial as his laziness.
+
+"What have you got?" called Jimmy. For answer Coon held up a string of
+catfish, so large that Jimmy gave a long whistle.
+
+"I've jes' been a-pullin' 'em out as fast as I could throw in my line,"
+he said. "Thar hain't been nothin' like it sence ole Noah's time."
+
+"My! You must be a-seein' fun," said Jimmy, watching him enviously as
+he baited his hook and tossed it into the water. "Wouldn't I like to try
+it, though!"
+
+"Come on, if yer want ter," answered Coon. "Thar's another line in my
+basket, and you kin cut a pole from the sprouts agin that stump down
+yender."
+
+"I ought to be a-goin'. I've got an errand to do," answered Jimmy. "But
+I would like to haul in just one."
+
+"Oh, come on!" insisted Coon. "You can spare ten minutes, can't you?"
+
+There was an attractiveness about this overgrown, good-natured fellow
+that all the smaller boys found irresistible. Jimmy could have said "no"
+to any of his younger companions, but he was flattered by Coon's notice,
+and an invitation from him was a temptation beyond his strength to
+resist.
+
+A few minutes later old Blaze was tied to a sapling. Another pair of
+feet dangled from the sycamore limb, another line dipped into the water,
+and unbroken silence reigned again along the shady river.
+
+A quarter of an hour passed, but Jimmy, with his eyes intent on the
+bobbing cork, took no notice of the flight of time. Then a thrill went
+through him as he felt a pull on his line, and in his excitement he
+almost fell off his perch into the water.
+
+"It's the biggest fish of the season!" Coon declared, as he helped haul
+it in. "You're in luck, Jim; you'd better try it agin."
+
+Old Blaze gnawed the bark off the sapling as far as she could reach, and
+then stamped and whinnied in vain. Still Jimmy sat on the sycamore limb,
+confident of success after his first great triumph, and unable to tear
+himself away without one more trophy.
+
+Coon drew up his line at intervals, and each time Jimmy's determination
+to catch one more increased. The minutes slipped by, but he did not
+notice them, nor did he realize that the sun was nearly overhead.
+
+Suddenly, the unmistakable notes of a dinner-horn echoed through the
+woods. Startled into the consciousness that he had idled away the whole
+morning, Jimmy started for the bank in such haste that his feet slipped
+on the smooth bark, and he fell across the limb. He scrambled
+desperately around, and managed to draw himself up again, but in doing
+so lost his hold on the fish. He saw it go tumbling into the water.
+
+A hearty laugh from Coon followed him down the bank and along the road,
+as he galloped furiously away.
+
+Mrs. Spinner thought somebody must be dying or dead when she saw Jimmy
+come dashing up to the house in such haste, and hurried out to ask the
+news.
+
+"The doctor's just gone," she said, after he had told his errand, and
+delivered his mother's message. "He had a call down to old Mr.
+Wakeley's, and left in the middle of his dinner. Law me, it's too bad!
+You'd better wait, though. He'll likely not be gone very long. Come in
+and have something to eat, won't you?"
+
+Jimmy's inclination was to refuse, but his hunger overcame his
+bashfulness, and he followed Mrs. Spinner into the kitchen.
+
+She had already eaten her dinner, and kept on with her work, pausing
+often, in her busy going back and forth, to give him some dish, or
+hospitably urge him to help himself.
+
+"You'd better go into the office to wait," she said, as he pushed his
+chair back from the table. "The doctor'll surely be along pretty soon."
+
+The little room, standing by itself in the front yard, did double duty
+as office and drug-store. Jimmy sat down on the bench beside the door,
+and studied the odd assortment of bottles on the opposite shelves. He
+counted them and read all the labels. Then he saw a case of dentist's
+instruments lying on the table. He examined these curiously, fitting the
+forceps on each of his teeth, and then looked around for other sources
+of amusement.
+
+Several books with leather bindings lay on the desk, and he sat down to
+look at them. Books were few in the Perkins household, and the first one
+he opened proved very entertaining. It was an illustrated work on
+anatomy, and he was soon completely absorbed in the interesting pictures
+of bones and muscles.
+
+The afternoon was sultry and still. A few flies buzzed on the
+window-pane. Just outside the door an old hen clucked and scratched for
+her downy yellow brood. Jimmy could look out and see some one ploughing
+in a distant field, and hear a lusty voice at intervals, calling, "Gee!
+Haw! W'-o-a!" to the yoke of oxen.
+
+After a long while, when sitting so still had made him drowsy, he went
+to the door and looked up and down the road. No one was in sight. Even
+the sun had gone behind a cloud. He began to grow uneasy, as he thought
+of his mother waiting impatiently for the soda to begin her baking.
+
+"If the doctor isn't here by the time I finish looking at the books," he
+said to himself, "I'll go anyway, without waiting for Maria's medicine."
+
+He went back to his chair and turned to the pictures again. Presently he
+began to yawn. Then his eyelids drooped, and his head nodded so low that
+it rested on the open book upon the table. He knew nothing more until he
+felt Mrs. Spinner shaking him by the shoulder. He started up to find the
+little office nearly dark.
+
+"I plumb forgot all about you," Mrs. Spinner said, "until the doctor
+sent word he couldn't come home to-night. Old Mr. Wakeley's a-dying.
+You'd better hurry away, for there's a heavy thunder-storm coming up."
+
+She weighed out the soda and spices, wrapping each package separately,
+and then tied them together in one bundle. It was about the middle of
+the afternoon when Jimmy had gone to sleep. Now the sun had set. The sky
+was black with clouds, and as he hurriedly mounted his horse and tied
+the bundle to the horn of the saddle he heard a distant rumble of
+thunder. Old Blaze was as anxious to get home as her rider, and needed
+little urging to make her travel her fastest.
+
+They were going directly toward the storm. By the time they had
+travelled a mile and a half its full force was upon them. The wind blew
+furiously and whirled the dust along the road in blinding columns. It
+twisted and tossed the tall trees as easily as if they had been bushes.
+Great limbs swayed wildly, and now and then one crashed to the ground.
+Once, when she was a colt, old Blaze had been hit by a falling branch in
+a thunder-storm, and had never forgotten the terror of it. Now, as a
+vivid glare of lightning blinded her, she reared, plunged forward, and
+then stood trembling, with dilated eyes and quivering nostrils.
+
+They were in the midst of a thick wood. No amount of urging would induce
+the mare to go on, and Jimmy got down to lead her. Something of the
+horse's fear seemed to be communicated to the boy. He was naturally
+brave, but the ferocious power of the storm awed him into utter fear.
+
+The rain poured harder and harder. Jimmy was wet to the skin, and the
+water ran down in streams from his hat brim. He pushed ahead for a long
+time, wondering why he did not come to the creek. Instead of reaching
+open country, he seemed to be getting deeper into the woods. Then he
+remembered that two bridle-paths led into the main road--one directly
+into it, the other around the base of the hill. He had taken the wrong
+path and was travelling in a circle.
+
+By the time he reached his starting-point again the storm had abated.
+The wind did not blow so hard, and the thunder had gone growling away
+toward the eastern hills. He led the horse up to a stump, climbed into
+the saddle, and this time started on the right path homeward.
+
+As he rode down the lane a lantern glimmered in the dooryard and moved
+toward the barn. "Well, you _air_ a purty fellow!" called Abe's voice.
+"Mother's mighty nigh wild about you. She jest now sent me down to git
+a horse to go out and hunt you."
+
+Jimmy slid from the saddle without saying anything. When Abe saw how
+pale and wet he was, he added, in a kinder tone, "I'll put the horse up.
+You take your things and strike for the house."
+
+He lifted the lantern in order to see to untie the package, and then
+gave an exclamation of astonishment.
+
+"Well, I wisht you'd look! The rain has melted every bit of that soda.
+There's nothin' left but the bag. And the spice is all sp'iled, too. My
+gracious!" he added, after another look, "it's run down all over the
+saddle, and taken the colour out. My! Won't Maria be mad? It's eternally
+ruined! Well, I must say I like your way of doin' errands!"
+
+It was a very penitent, humble boy who crept into the kitchen and gave a
+shamefaced account of the day's doings. Maria, who had sat with her face
+hidden in her apron during the storm, shuddering at the thought that he
+might be out in it alone, ran to get him some dry clothes, without a
+word of reproach about the saddle.
+
+"I'll save enough out of the garden truck to get it re-cushioned," he
+promised. "Sure I will, Maria."
+
+But Maria gave him a little squeeze. "Don't you worry about that,
+Jimmy," she said, "so long as you got home safe. It don't make so much
+difference about the soda, either, for we got word this afternoon that
+the donation-party has been put off."
+
+His self-respect was restored by such a warm reception, and his spirits
+rose until he began to think he was something of a hero, after all. As
+he ate the supper his mother had been keeping hot for him, she and Maria
+listened sympathetically to his account of the storm.
+
+Abe, who had come in from the barn and was drying his boots by the fire,
+said nothing, but his quizzical smile was more provoking than words. It
+reminded Jimmy of the boastful speech he had made that morning.
+
+He grew red in the face, stopped talking, and soon made an excuse to
+slip away to bed. As he lay listening to the rain on the roof, he said
+to himself, "I wisht I hadn't bragged so about doin' errands better than
+Abe! He'll never be done a-hinting to me about soda and
+side-saddles!"
+
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY AT HARDYVILLE
+
+
+"BLAME that pig-headed Schmidt!"
+
+Squire Hardy was in the sitting-room talking to his wife. "To think of
+his kickin' just because the little schoolma'am is bound to celebrate
+the day! Her askin' for nothing except leave to use the schoolhouse!
+Confound him! The rest of the Germans'd be patriotic enough--they are
+all 'round these parts--if Schmidt wa'n't so everlastingly down on us,
+and used his influence with the rest!"
+
+"He's a well-meaning, peaceable neighbour, Hiram," said the squire's
+wife, placidly.
+
+"So's horses and cows. Gimme folks that's got some public spirit in 'em.
+Think of the men that took up the land all round these parts when we
+come in--all full of Fourth of July. I wisht they hadn't been so keen to
+sell out at a profit--that's the worst of us Americans. When they sold
+out, of course the Germans come in,--couldn't blame 'em a mite,--an'
+Schmidt he come fust, an' he bejuggled all the rest. An' he's pretty
+nigh bejuggled the Gateses and two or three other American families like
+'em, that's gettin' more like Schmidt year by year. Why, there ain't
+been a mite of public improvement done this ten year back."
+
+"Oh, now, Hiram, we've got the post-office."
+
+"Yes--much thanks to the rest of 'em! It was me worked and kicked and
+badgered till I got them a tri-weekly mail, and much use they make of
+it!"
+
+The squire gazed at the post-office as he spoke. It consisted of an ash
+"seketary" in one corner of the sitting-room, and was much more than
+commodious enough for the few letters and newspapers that came to
+Hardyville three times a week, brought from the county town, eight miles
+away, by a carrier with a gig. The squire was delivering his opinions as
+usual while waiting for the carrier to appear.
+
+"I don't rec'lect much public improvements ever bein' in Hardyville,"
+said Mrs. Hardy, drily.
+
+"There would 'a' been," said her husband, testily. "There would 'a' been
+if the Americans had kept on. To think of them beginning to sell out and
+move furder west--just as they were gettin' their land into shape for
+havin' some time to themselves to improve things! Thank goodness, they
+_did_ put up the church and schoolhouse--I guess we'd never have had
+neither if it wasn't for the American spirit here when this settlement
+begun."
+
+"Sho, Hiram? You can't say but what the German folks keeps the church
+and schoolhouse going."
+
+"Going--yes, going to rack and ruin all the same! Schoolhouse leakin'
+like sixty--and catch 'em taxin' themselves for a new roof! I wonder
+Miss Atworth can stay in the place--her and the children mirin'
+shoe-mouth deep in mud to get to school in the winter! Nary a rod of
+corduroy will they lay to give their own young ones a decent walk. But
+they keep their cattle comfortable enough--that means money in their
+pockets. All they care about is having their corn and stock turn out
+well. They don't care if the hull township, and the hull Union, too, for
+that matter, was to go to the dogs. Hello! here comes Jack with the
+mail-bag!"
+
+A little while later Squire Hardy was in the act of distributing the
+bag's small contents, when two farmers walked in without even stopping
+to stamp the mud off their cowhide boots. Mrs. Hardy kept on placidly
+knitting beyond the fireplace; she was used to such invasions of the
+sitting-room, from which she had removed the carpet soon after the
+post-office was granted to the sleepy settlement.
+
+"Draw up to the fire, Mr. Gates," she said, hospitably. "Take that
+rocker, Mr. Schmidt."
+
+Mr. Gates kicked his feet against the andirons to rid them of clay and
+snow.
+
+"Cold day," he remarked, settling his coon-skin cap more firmly on his
+head. "What's this I hear about the new teacher?"
+
+"Well, what?" snapped the squire, looking around.
+
+"Some say she's dead sot on gettin' up them doin's on Washington's
+Birthday."
+
+[Illustration: "MR. GATES KICKED HIS FEET AGAINST THE ANDIRONS"]
+
+"Well, s'pose she is?" said the squire. "She ain't askin' nothin' but
+the schoolhouse for an evening, and I've got power to let her have
+that. I'm school agent, ain't I?"
+
+"I don't say the contrary. But to my way of thinkin', she's just
+a-wastin' time over a lot of foolishness. Hey, Schmidt?"
+
+"Yah, das ist so!" assented the man in the rocking-chair, as he took his
+pipe from his mouth. "I tolt mein poy I shust dook him oudt of school
+and put him to voork ven I hear some more of dose grazy idees."
+
+"Crazy? Nothing crazy about it!" interrupted the old squire, hotly.
+"I'll just tell you, gentlemen, it was a mighty good deed old Abel
+Dawson quit teaching here. He'd run along in the same old rut for the
+last ten year, till things had just about dried up. I made a visit to
+'em last fall. I put some questions to the scholars, too. There wa'n't
+but four out of the hull of 'em that was exactly sure who the President
+of these United States was. Nary one could name the Vice-President!"
+
+"Dey lairn goot vot vos in de book," said Schmidt.
+
+"Yes!" roared the squire. "Abel stood over them with a rod, and
+frightened the spelling-book into 'em till they could say it off,
+back'ards or forrards. But they was like a lot of skeered parrots that
+didn't understand what they _was_ saying."
+
+"Dot vos more goot as learn 'em yoost foolishness--badriodism und der
+flag und all dot plab 'bout der country und der Union."
+
+"Look out, now, Schmidt! I ain't goin' to set still and hear you calling
+patriotism 'blab.' I tell you in only nine weeks Miss Atworth's got the
+poor little souls waked up. They never knew before that they _had_ a
+country. History and geography mean something to them now. She'll make
+intelligent citizens out of 'em if you'll keep your hands off. I'm out
+in my guess if she don't give this whole township a shakin' up before
+this thing is over, and teach 'em some public sperit."
+
+Mr. Gates gave a sniff. "They say she's had a piano hauled out from the
+city, too," he said. "Hope she don't intend to levy on the parents to
+pay for it. She'll get nothing out of me. I'll tell her that right now."
+
+"Shucks!" cried the squire, as he handed Schmidt his _Zeitung_. "Neither
+of _you_ needn't worry. She's too smart to expect to get blood out of
+turnips."
+
+"Vell, all I haf to say," was Schmidt's parting remark, as he wound his
+blue woollen muffler about his neck, "if she keeps on mit dose
+voolishness, I dake mein Karl oudt of school, right avay alretty. Dot
+vos better dot he voork as to vaste his time so."
+
+"Poor little Miss Atworth!" sighed Mrs. Hardy, as she watched the two
+men tramp off together. "I'm powerful glad she's boarding with us. The
+whole neighbourhood is down on her new-fangled ways. I'm going right out
+now and make something extry nice and hot for supper. It's pretty near
+sundown, and she'll come in soon all wore out with her day's work."
+
+The little teacher did need the good cheer and "extry nice" supper that
+awaited her in the cosy kitchen, for she had felt much discouraged as
+she trudged homeward through the falling snow. Her pupils had nearly all
+been telling her the same thing that day. It was that their parents
+scouted the idea of helping her to celebrate Washington's Birthday.
+
+She had come from a distant town to teach the Hardyville school in hope
+to lay up enough money to complete her art course; but now it seemed to
+her that something more important than art demanded her services and
+the small sum she had saved. The dull, colourless lives of the children
+appealed irresistibly to her sympathies, and she was often amazed at the
+utter absence of any spirit of patriotism.
+
+"How could the poor children learn patriotism?" said Mrs. Hardy. "Their
+parents don't feel it, except for their Vaterland. And certainly nothing
+has been done by the public round here to make the children love this
+country. Such lives! The parents get up before daylight, and dig till
+dark. They usually force the boys and girls to live like overworked
+horses. All they think of is making money. That big room up-stairs in
+the schoolhouse was built for a public hall. It has not been opened for
+fifteen years for any kind of an entertainment, not even a magic lantern
+show. It is the same old treadmill existence year in and year out. The
+children don't get their lives brightened--no public holidays are
+celebrated here, not even the Fourth of July. How can they love the
+country?"
+
+"I shall certainly give them something better," Miss Atworth had said,
+and the upshot was her determination to celebrate Washington's
+Birthday. The indifference or hostility of the parents had but roused
+her American spirit, even to the resolve that she would bear the entire
+expense herself, if none would contribute from their plenty.
+
+"Ten dollars," she reflected, "will buy decorations and material for
+costumes and stage curtains. Another ten will rent a piano. Most of the
+children have never even seen one. All my spare time must go to getting
+up the entertainment, and all my savings, too. Well, I'm glad--I guess I
+can give up so much for my country. It will be worth while if I can make
+its 'Father's' birthday the greatest gala day these poor little souls
+have ever known."
+
+Not a particle of encouragement did she get from any of the parents
+except Peter Dowling, a one-armed veteran of the Civil War, and he was
+much more discouraging than he meant to be.
+
+"Go on, I wish you luck, young lady," he would observe. "You can count
+on me for anything a one-armed man can do. But what's the use? I've
+tried and tried to get some 'Merican sentiment into these youngsters.
+'Tain't no go--and never will be. But you can count on me to hooray for
+you all the same. I'll be thar if nobody else is."
+
+"Maybe you tried to scold them into patriotism, as the squire does,"
+said the little teacher. "I don't think that's the best way."
+
+"It didn't work, anyhow," said the veteran, and walked away.
+
+Miss Atworth's programme, besides the decoration of the schoolhouse,
+comprised tableaux and the recitation of patriotic poems and addresses
+by her larger pupils. But most of the children soon received strict
+orders to hurry home at four o'clock, to attend to the milking and
+evening chores. They were also kept at work till the last possible
+minute in the morning. But with only noon-time and recess for practising
+their parts, her enthusiasm worked wonders.
+
+"It ought to be a grand success," said Miss Atworth, as she took a final
+approving survey of the decorations the afternoon of the twenty-first.
+"Only it's a little too warlike. I wish I had an old-fashioned
+pruning-hook to hang across that sword between the windows."
+
+"Mr. Schmidt has one," volunteered Sarah Gates. "But he's so mad about
+our wasting so much time, as he calls it, that it's as much as a
+fellow's head is worth to ask him for it. I heard him tell pa he was
+going to keep Karl at home to-morrow night. Isn't that mean?"
+
+"Keep Karl at home!" cried Miss Atworth, in dismay. "He couldn't be so
+mean as that!"
+
+Karl was the brightest pupil in her room--a big, manly boy of sixteen.
+He was kept at home every spring and fall to help with the work,
+although his father was not poor. She had taken an especial interest in
+him from the first, had drilled him carefully in his declamation, and
+counted on him as the star of the entertainment.
+
+"Pa wasn't going to let me come, either," continued Sarah, "till ma told
+him you'd picked me out of all the school to be the Goddess of Liberty,
+and that I was going to have a gold crown on, and gold stars spangled
+over my dress. Ma's awful proud because I was chosen to be a goddess."
+
+The little teacher smiled. She was not without worldly wisdom, and had
+given Sarah such a prominent part in the hope that it might conciliate
+the whole Gates family. Fortunately nothing was required of the goddess
+but long hair and a pretty face--about all Sarah had to boast of. She
+simply could not learn.
+
+Miss Atworth locked the door and started rapidly homeward. What should
+she do if Karl must be left out of the performance? A quarter of a mile
+brought her to the lane leading from the pike to the Schmidt place, and
+there she stopped with sudden resolve.
+
+"I'll beard that old lion in his den, and ask him for his pruning-hook.
+That will be an excuse for going, and will give me an opportunity to
+plead Karl's cause."
+
+It was nearly dark when Miss Atworth ran up the squire's front walk, and
+danced through the house into the kitchen.
+
+"Oh, such luck!" she cried, gaily. "I went to see Mr. Schmidt, and some
+good angel prompted me to speak to him in German. It was such bad
+German--perhaps that's what pleased him. Anyway it thawed him right out.
+He lent me his pruning-hook, and showed me over his big barn. Of course
+I admired his fine cattle, and then, as he got more and more pleased at
+my showing such an astonishing lot of sense, I praised Karl so highly
+that he made a complete surrender. He is coming to-morrow night to bring
+the whole Schmidt family, from the old _grossmutter_, to the baby.
+Hurrah for Washington's Birthday!"
+
+Never had the old public hall held such an astonished and delighted
+audience as the one that crowded into it that memorable night. Gay
+festoons of bunting, countless little flags, and wreaths of evergreen
+transformed the dingy old place completely.
+
+A large picture of Washington placidly beamed from its place of honour.
+Over and around it, reaching almost across the stage, was draped a great
+silken flag, borrowed for the occasion.
+
+Peter Dowling, in his old blue army clothes, with one sleeve pinned
+across his breast, sat far back, looking bewildered by the wonders the
+little teacher had accomplished.
+
+Miss Atworth had arranged the programme with great tact. Each child felt
+prominent, and those who, she secretly knew, would be failures in
+anything else, were honoured beyond measure when she skilfully grouped
+them into a series of effective historical tableaux.
+
+"It's enough to make even a graven image feel patriotic," whispered
+Squire Hardy to his wife, as the children's sweet voices made the room
+ring with the grand old national airs.
+
+Declamations followed each other in rapid succession. Then came a scene,
+with recitations, in which Uncle Sam and all the States of the Union
+took part. The very air seemed charged with the little teacher's
+electrical spirit of patriotic enthusiasm.
+
+It was at its height when Karl came forward to give the famous speech of
+Patrick Henry. His delivery was so much better than the rehearsals had
+led her to expect that even Miss Atworth was surprised. He seemed to
+find an inspiration in the crowd. A storm of applause followed the "Give
+me liberty or give me death."
+
+"What shall we do?" she whispered in dismay as the persistent clapping
+of many hands called him back. "I wish you had prepared for an encore."
+
+"Oh, I know!" said Karl, and in another instant was on the stage again.
+
+In the deep hush that followed, his clear, musical voice rose in German.
+He was reciting "_Mein Vaterland_." Old grandmothers who knew but a few
+words of English rocked themselves back and forth in excited delight;
+Mr. Schmidt beamed with vast smiles; many an eye grew dim, thinking of
+the old beloved home across the seas. But the boy was thinking of his
+own native country. There was no mistaking his meaning, as he turned in
+closing, to wave his hand toward the portrait and the flag:
+
+"My Fatherland!" he cried with true feeling, and then, after a moment of
+general surprise, deafening applause broke out.
+
+As it subsided Miss Atworth stepped forward to announce the last song,
+but Peter Dowling, his face aflame with new delight and old memories,
+rose, stalked up the aisle as if unconscious of all the eyes fixed on
+him, and swung himself up on the high platform with one long step.
+
+"Friends," he began, "I've been livin' kind of dead among ye for many's
+the year. Now I want to say a word or two. I ain't no great at
+speechifyin', but these old songs and pieces we've been a-listenin' to
+have spirited me up like the trumpet doos an old war-horse."
+
+As he spoke he waved the stump of his right arm so vigorously that the
+empty sleeve was torn from its pinning across his breast and flapped
+pathetically.
+
+"I want to say," he went on, "that I fit for that old flag, and yet,
+livin' here so long, and never a celebration for young or old, I'd half
+forgot my patriotism. It's our school-teacher has woke me up to seeing
+the truth. Now that we hev beat our swords into pruning-hooks, and peace
+has pitched her tent alongside ours to stay, I can't help thinking
+there's danger in settlin' down too comfortable and off gyard like.
+
+"This country," he raised his voice higher, "ain't teaching its children
+enough of the feelin' of patriotism. It takes the same kind of principle
+to make a good citizen that it doos a good soldier. It ought to be the
+very bone and sinew of every school in this whole land. I could talk all
+night on that subject, now I've got started. But what I want to say is
+this:
+
+"I propose that we all get out our pocket-books, and throw in to get a
+handsome flag to fly over this schoolhouse. Take an old soldier's word
+for it, there ain't no greater inspiration anywhere, to make a fellow
+put in his best licks, and come out on top. Now, Miss Teacher, I'll just
+get the sense of this meeting."
+
+He paused a moment, then turned to the audience: "All who want to
+express their thanks for this evening's entertainment, and are willing a
+collection should be took, say aye!"
+
+Such a storm of ayes followed, that Peter caught up his slouched hat and
+began to pass it around, with his only arm. Dimes and quarters clinked
+into it, while an occasional dollar showed how deeply selfish hearts had
+been stirred by the uplifting influences of the hour.
+
+Miss Atworth seated herself at the piano, and beckoned to the bewildered
+Goddess of Liberty to lead the States again across the stage. Some of
+the smaller ones straggled sadly out of line, but as Karl, at a nod from
+his teacher, caught the great flag from its place and stood with it in
+the midst of them, every voice rang out full and true on the chorus:
+
+    "Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys,
+     We'll rally once again,
+     Shouting the battle-cry of freedom!"
+
+People seemed loath to go when it was all over. They came up to the
+teacher with awkward expressions of pleasure and appreciation.
+
+"I'll never forget this night," drawled one faded, overworked woman, to
+whose eyes the rich colours and tinsel of the stage decorations had
+seemed a part of fairyland. "That music was so sweet, and my little Meta
+looked like a picture with her hair curled, and that beautiful dress on
+you made her. I really didn't know she was so pretty. I'm going to fix
+her up and get her a lot of nice things after this."
+
+"Well, it was worth while," said the little teacher, as she dropped into
+a chair at home, too tired to take off her wraps.
+
+"Indeed it was," answered the squire. "Jake Schneider's new patriotism
+rose so he said he'd put a walk on each side of the school for half a
+mile, even if nobody'd help him. Then a lot of 'em began to talk it
+over. The upshot was that old Schmidt is going to give the logs, and
+they're all going to work to-morrow to hew them off and stake them
+down."
+
+The next Monday morning Karl stopped at Miss Atworth's desk to say
+joyfully, "O teacher! father was so pleased. He is going to hire
+another hand and let me keep on till the end of the term."
+
+"Then I need never regret my sacrifice," thought the happy girl.
+
+That celebration was the beginning of better times in Hardyville. When
+the doors were barred for vacation, and the grass grew rank on the bare
+playground, the new flag still floated from the schoolhouse belfry.
+
+Many a boy catching sight of the glorious flag as he plodded through the
+furrows behind his plough, felt himself lifted beyond the bounds of his
+little horizon, to some great plane of endeavour where all great things
+were possible. Still those beckoning folds teach a silent lesson of
+loftier ideals, and a broader humanity to people whom the little teacher
+thrilled with her enthusiastic spirit.
+
+
+
+
+AN OLD DAGUERREOTYPE
+
+
+CALEB SPEED pushed back his chair from the dinner-table with anger and
+disgust in his face. The door had just banged behind a big, hearty boy
+of seventeen, whom he could still see through the narrow window trudging
+off toward the barn.
+
+The lively whistle that sounded through the closed windows seemed to
+aggravate the man's ill-temper. He walked over to the fireplace, and
+kicked the smouldering logs with his heavy boot.
+
+"If there's any one thing that riles me all over," he exclaimed,
+angrily, "it's having that boy always setting himself up to be in the
+right, and everybody else in the wrong!"
+
+"Well, he 'most generally is in the right," answered Caleb's wife,
+clearing the table. "It's remarkable what a memory Jerry has, 'specially
+for dates. At the quilting here last week the women folks were trying to
+settle when 'twas old Mis' Lockett died, and Jerry knew to the day. He
+said 'twas two days after Deacon Stone's cows were killed by lightning,
+and that happened on the thirteenth of September, just a hundred years
+to the very day after Wolfe captured Quebec. You can't trip Jerry up in
+history."
+
+"Well," answered her husband, impatiently, "he needn't be so sassy about
+it. We had a dispute over them same cows. I was telling the new minister
+about the storm, and I happened to say they was standing under a
+pine-tree. He chipped in, 'Why, no, it wasn't, uncle; it was an oak.'
+'It was a pine!' says I. 'No, it wasn't; it was an oak,' says he.
+
+"Just then Hiram Stone came by, and Jerry yelled to know which 'twas.
+Hiram said, 'Oak.' Then Jerry grinned as malicious, and said, 'I told
+you so! I knew I was right!' If he hadn't been my dead sister's only
+child and the minister looking on--" Caleb stopped in anger.
+
+Mrs. Speed made no comment. She was fond of her husband's nephew. He had
+grown to be almost like a son in the five years he had lived with them.
+They were not old--not many years older than Jerry; for Caleb's sister
+had been older than he.
+
+Mrs. Speed only laughed at the patronizing manners which he sometimes
+assumed, to the great annoyance of his young uncle. But Caleb Speed was
+too dogmatic himself to tolerate such a spirit in any one else.
+
+"He sha'n't sit up and contradict me at my own table!" Caleb declared.
+"I'll thrash him first! He's got to show me proper respect. He needn't
+think because I've given him advantages that I couldn't have myself,
+that he knows it all, and I don't know anything!"
+
+"Now, Caleb, what's the use? It's only Jerry's way," said Mrs. Speed,
+soothingly.
+
+"Dear me!" she sighed, as Caleb went to his work. "It's a pity they
+can't get along as they used to. Caleb's so touchy he can't stand
+anything. I must tell Jerry to be more careful."
+
+But when Jerry came in to supper and began his lively joking, she forgot
+the little lecture she had planned.
+
+"The Spencers are going to move West next week," remarked Mr. Speed.
+"Land's cheap, and I guess they need more elbow-room for such a big
+family. Greenville is a mighty thriving place, they say."
+
+"You mean Grandville, don't you, uncle?" suggested Jerry.
+
+"I generally say what I mean, young man!" was the curt reply.
+
+"Well, it's Grandville, anyway!" persisted Jerry, feeling in his
+pockets. "Jack Spencer is out there now. I got a letter from him
+yesterday begging me to go out there to him. Oh, here it is! Look at the
+postmark. It _is_ Grandville! I knew I was right about it."
+
+Nettled by the tone and his own mistake, Mr. Speed finished his supper
+in moody silence. The boy had no idea how his habit had grown, or how
+sensitive his uncle had become in regard to it. "Why, Aunt Lucy," he
+insisted, when she remonstrated with him, "I never contradict people
+unless I know positively that they are wrong!"
+
+"Maybe," she answered. "But what real difference does it make whether
+the weasels killed five chickens or six, or that it was the black pig
+and not the spotted one that rooted up the garden? Those are such little
+things to bicker about, just for the satisfaction of saying, 'I told you
+so!'"
+
+She imitated Jerry's tone and manner so well that he laughed a little
+sheepishly.
+
+"Well, I'll turn over a new leaf," he promised, "just to please you."
+
+Caleb Speed's farm was in southern Maine, near the coast. Jerry had
+grown up with the sound of the sea in his ears. It had long sung only a
+meaningless monotone to the boy, but it had begun to fill him with
+something of its own restless spirit. And about this time the Spencer
+boys were urging him to go West.
+
+"No," he answered; "I owe it to Uncle Caleb to stay here. He was too
+good to me when I was a little shaver for me to leave him now when he
+needs me. He shall have the best service I can give him until I am
+twenty-one; then I'll be free to follow you."
+
+But there came a crisis. Uncle Caleb gave Jerry a sum of money to pay a
+bill in town. There was a five-dollar piece in a roll of bills, and the
+gold-piece had disappeared.
+
+Jerry insisted that he could not have had the money. "I _know_, Aunt
+Lucy. Uncle Cale handed me the roll of bills, and I put it down in this
+pocket, and never touched it till I got to town. When I took it out
+there were the bills just as he had handed them to me, and not a thing
+more."
+
+"Maybe there's a hole in your pocket," she suggested.
+
+She turned it wrong side out, but found no place where a coin could have
+slipped through.
+
+"Well, it's a mystery where it went," she said. "I can't understand it."
+
+"Pooh! It's no mystery," answered Jerry, contemptuously. "Uncle simply
+didn't give it to me. He thought he had rolled it up in the bills, but
+was mistaken. That's all!"
+
+"What do you mean by that?" cried Caleb, jumping up white with anger. "I
+tell you it _was_ wrapped up in the bills, and if you can't account for
+it, you've either lost it or spent it!"
+
+Jerry bounded up-stairs to his room, stuffed his best suit of clothes
+into a little brown carpet-bag, and then poured out the contents of an
+old, long-necked blue vase. He had thirty dollars saved toward buying a
+horse of his own. Then he marched defiantly down-stairs to his uncle.
+
+"I never saw or touched your gold-piece," he declared, "but I'll not go
+away leaving you to say that I took any of your money!"
+
+He threw down a five-dollar bill and started to the door. As he turned
+the knob, he looked back at the woman by the fireplace, with her face in
+her apron.
+
+"Good-bye, Aunt Lucy," he said, with a choke in his voice. "You've been
+awful good to me--I'll never forget that!"
+
+Then he shut the door abruptly, and went out into the night. It lacked
+only five minutes of train-time when he reached the station, determined
+to go to a cousin of his father's who lived in Vermont, and write from
+there to Jack Spencer that he would work his way out West as soon as he
+could.
+
+Tingling with the recollection of his uncle's reproaches, the boy sat up
+very straight and wide-awake in the train for a long time. Then his
+tension relaxed, and for lack of something else to do, he felt in his
+pocket for Jack Spencer's letter. As he pulled it from its envelope
+something else fell into his hand. It was a gold-piece.
+
+He could scarcely believe his eyes as he sat dropping it from one hand
+into another. How had the coin got into the letter. For a time he could
+not guess; then the truth suddenly became clear to him.
+
+The letter had been in his breast-pocket when he stuffed the roll of
+bills into it, and the coin must have slipped into the open end of the
+envelope as he pushed the bills down. When he began to search for the
+money he had changed the letter to another pocket, never dreaming that
+it contained anything except Jack's glowing description of prairie-life.
+
+Jerry had been keeping his anger warm all the way by telling himself
+that his uncle had been harsh and unjust. He had even pictured to
+himself with grim satisfaction how shamefaced Caleb would look sometime
+when he should come across the coin among his own possessions. And now
+he had to think of himself as the blunderer and the unjust, foolish
+person.
+
+But now no apology could be too humble. He would get off at the next
+station and take the first train home. The case called for an immediate
+reconciliation.
+
+Then he reasoned that as he had paid for his ticket, he might as well go
+on to his journey's end and have a short visit. It would be easier,
+perhaps, to write than to speak his apology.
+
+Jerry soon found his elderly cousin, Tim Bailey, who happened to be
+working just then in a new store--a combination of a book-store and an
+old-fashioned daguerreotype gallery; not old-fashioned then, for it was
+before the photograph had penetrated to the rural regions. Tim's
+rigorous cross-questioning soon drew the whole story from the boy.
+
+"Well, that's easily settled," said Tim. "Just you write to 'em and own
+up, and say you're going to stop with me over Christmas, but that you'll
+be along about New Year to turn over a new leaf. They'll bring out the
+fatted calf when you get back. I know Caleb like a book. He can't hold
+spite."
+
+Jerry settled himself to write the letter. But he found himself hard to
+please, and tore up several drafts. Writing apologies was not such easy
+work, after all! Then Tim put his grizzled head in at the door, with a
+beaming smile.
+
+"Look here, boy, I've got an idee! The picture business is dull this
+morning. Go up and get yours took. You can send it along for a Christmas
+gift. Sha'n't cost you a cent, either. I get all my work done gratis,
+for sending him so much trade."
+
+Three days after, Jerry dropped into the post-office a little package
+addressed to his uncle, containing, besides a letter, an excellent
+likeness of himself. Jerry made in the letter a straightforward
+acknowledgment of his mistake, and accompanied this manly apology with
+an earnest request to be allowed to return home.
+
+He had grown so homesick for a sight of the old place that he could
+scarcely see the lines on his paper. And Aunt Lucy--well, he almost
+broke down at the thought of all her motherly kindness to him.
+
+"Now I'll surely get an answer by Wednesday," he thought, but Wednesday
+went by, and another week passed, and although he called regularly at
+the post-office, no word came.
+
+"Well, I've done all I could," he said. "It's plain they don't want me
+back."
+
+Tim's sympathetic old heart ached for the boy's distress. He even
+offered to go up to the farm and intercede in his behalf.
+
+"No indeed!" Jerry answered, defiantly. "I'll never beg my way back. I'm
+not the kind to go where I'm not wanted."
+
+"Maybe they never got your letter."
+
+Jerry hooted at the idea. "No, they don't want to make up. That's the
+long and the short of it."
+
+When he finally started West, Tim Bailey went with him. Out on the far
+Western prairies, Jerry struck deep root in the favourable soil, and as
+the years passed on, became as much of a fixture as the new town that
+bore his name. Year after year he worked on, widening his fields,
+improving his buildings, working early and late, solely for the pleasure
+of accumulating.
+
+Tim Bailey had grown old and rheumatic, almost childish, but he still
+assumed a sort of guardianship over Jerry. One day he put down his
+newspaper, wiped his spectacles, and scanned the rough, burly-looking
+man on the other side of the stove, as if he had been a stranger.
+
+"Look here, Jerry," he said presently, "you're getting to look old, and
+your hair's all a-turning gray. Now you've got to quit pegging away so
+hard and take a holiday, before you get like me, so stiff and rheumatic
+you can't get away. Why don't you go to the World's Fair? It 'ud be a
+burning shame for the richest man in Trigg County to miss such a show."
+
+Thus it came about that one day Jerry rubbed his eyes in a bewildered
+way to find himself in the midst of a surging crowd that thronged the
+entrances of the Fair.
+
+He plodded along the Midway Plaisance, his umbrella under his arm and
+his hands in his pockets; he walked and stared till late in the
+afternoon. It was late in May, the spring ploughing had been a good
+preparation in pedestrianism, but the long furrows, enlivened only by
+the pipe of a quail or the cry of a catbird, had never brought such
+weariness as Jerry felt now.
+
+He did not realize he was so tired until he dropped into a seat in one
+of the gondolas on the lagoon, and remarked confidentially to the
+gondolier that he was "clean beat out."
+
+It was the first time Jerry had spoken since he entered the grounds. The
+man made no reply.
+
+He studied the fellow keenly a moment, and then turned to the crowds,
+surging along the banks in every direction. Not a soul in all that
+multitude even knew his name.
+
+A feeling of utter loneliness crept over him, and when the boat landed
+he was saying to himself that he would give the finest colt in his
+pastures for the sight of a familiar face.
+
+A few steps farther, and he saw one. It was in the government building,
+where an amused crowd was exclaiming over the Dead Letter Exhibit. Jerry
+edged along in front of the case, wondering at the variety of
+shipwrecked cargoes that had drifted into this government haven.
+
+A vague pity stirred in him for all the hopes that had gone into the
+grave of the dead letter office--rings that had never found the fingers
+they were to have clasped, gifts that might have unlocked long silences,
+tokens of friendship that were never received, never acknowledged--all
+caught in this snarled web that no human skill could possibly unravel.
+
+Then he saw the familiar face. It smiled out at him from the case of an
+old daguerreotype, till his heart began to beat so hard that he glanced
+guiltily around, to see if any one else heard it. The blood rushed to
+his head, and he felt dizzy.
+
+It was that picture of himself, taken so long ago up in Vermont! He was
+not likely to be mistaken in it--the only picture he had ever had taken
+in his life.
+
+He chuckled as he recalled the anxious oiling he had given the curly
+hair to make it lie flat, the harrowing hesitation over his necktie, the
+borrowing of the watch-chain that stood out in such bold relief against
+his brocaded vest. How quaint and old-fashioned it looked!
+
+He passed his hand over his grizzled beard with a sigh, for the smooth,
+boyish face was not all he saw. It brought back the whole faded past so
+overwhelmingly that for awhile he forgot where he was.
+
+Thirty-three years since he had dropped that little package in the
+office! He did not question why the letter had gone astray. He had lost
+his boyish faith in his own infallibility. He had probably mailed it
+with only half the address, perhaps none.
+
+Now he was a boy again, back in Maine. Aunt Lucy's knitting-needles
+clicked in the firelight. Uncle Caleb was making him a sled. How warm
+and comfortable the kitchen felt, and how good Aunt Lucy's doughnuts
+tasted!
+
+The crowds jostled him. He stood as if grown to the spot, until a
+sharp-nosed woman elbowed her way in front of him, to see what
+interested him. She looked inquisitively from the picture to the
+weather-beaten face above her, and passed on, none the wiser. There was
+little likeness between the two.
+
+Her penetrating glances aroused him. He came to himself with a start,
+looked hastily around, and then set out from the building, heedless of
+direction. A keen, raw wind struck him as he strode along the lake
+shore. He shivered and turned up his coat collar.
+
+A drizzling mist of rain began to fall. People going by with their
+umbrellas up looked at him curiously as he plodded along with his own
+umbrella under his arm.
+
+Soon a heavy dash of rain aroused him to the necessity of finding
+immediate shelter. A group of State buildings was just ahead. Glancing
+up he saw the name of his native State on one, and hurried in.
+
+A great log heap blazed and crackled in the huge fireplace, filling the
+room with a glowing comfort that warmed him, soul and body. He drew a
+chair close up to it, and spread his chilly fingers to the flames.
+
+The sticks against the forelog burnt to embers and fell into the ashes.
+The crane seemed to swing backward like a great finger, pointing to the
+past, as he sat and stared into the fire.
+
+People passing through the room saw only a rough old farmer, his clumsy
+boots stretched out on the hearth. They never dreamed of the scenes that
+passed before him in the fire. There were glimpses of snow-covered pine
+woods, of sparkling trout-streams gurgling in the June sunshine, of long
+stretches of level sea-sands where the tide crawled in.
+
+The old homesickness waked again. What had they thought of him through
+all these silent years? He wondered how they would receive his
+long-delayed apology. He must write as soon as he got back to the hotel.
+
+The rain had stopped. He stood up and shook himself, then went
+out-doors again, pulling his beard meditatively, as he walked toward the
+gate. It seemed a week since he had entered it.
+
+Outside, while he waited for a car, he kept poking the end of his
+umbrella savagely into a crack in the pavement. As he swung himself to
+the platform of a passing car, he turned back for another look at the
+domes and towers inside the gates.
+
+It was his last look. He had seen enough. He was going back to Uncle
+Caleb and Aunt Lucy.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+COSY CORNER SERIES.
+
+
+      It is the intention of the publishers that this series
+      shall contain only the very highest and purest
+      literature,--stories that shall not only appeal to the
+      children themselves, but be appreciated by all those
+      who feel with them in their joys and sorrows,--stories
+      that shall be most particularly adapted for reading
+      aloud in the family circle.
+
+      The numerous illustrations in each book are by
+      well-known artists, and each volume has a separate
+      attractive cover design.
+
+  Each, 1 vol., 16mo, cloth      $0.50
+
+
+_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_
+
+The Little Colonel.
+
+The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small
+girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied
+resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and
+old family are famous in the region. This old Colonel proves to be the
+grandfather of the child.
+
+The Giant Scissors.
+
+This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France,--the
+wonderful house with the gate of The Giant Scissors, Jules, her little
+playmate, Sister Denisa, the cruel Brossard, and her dear Aunt Kate.
+Joyce is a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes
+shares with her the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the
+"Holidays."
+
+
+Two Little Knights of Kentucky, WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS.
+
+In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but
+with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of
+the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights."
+
+
+Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.
+
+The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn
+of the issue of this volume for young people, written in the author's
+sympathetic and entertaining manner.
+
+
+Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.
+
+A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys
+and most girls.
+
+
+Big Brother.
+
+A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, himself a small
+boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale, the pathos
+and beauty of which has appealed to so many thousands.
+
+
+Ole Mammy's Torment.
+
+"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern
+life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells
+how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.
+
+
+The Story of Dago.
+
+In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey,
+owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the account
+of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing.
+
+
+_By EDITH ROBINSON_
+
+A Little Puritan's First Christmas.
+
+A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented
+by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother
+Sam.
+
+
+A Little Daughter of Liberty.
+
+The author's motive for this story is well indicated by a quotation from
+her introduction, as follows:
+
+"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution,
+the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is
+another ride,--untold in verse or story, its records preserved only in
+family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of Anthony Severn was no less
+historic in its action or memorable in its consequences."
+
+
+A Loyal Little Maid.
+
+A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the
+child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George
+Washington.
+
+
+A Little Puritan Rebel.
+
+Like Miss Robinson's successful story of "A Loyal Little Maid," this is
+another historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the gallant
+Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.
+
+
+A Little Puritan Pioneer.
+
+The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at
+Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds another to the list of
+favorites so well known to the young people.
+
+
+A Little Puritan Bound Girl.
+
+A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to
+youthful readers.
+
+
+_By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramée)_
+
+
+=A Dog of Flanders=: A CHRISTMAS STORY.
+
+Too well and favorably known to require description.
+
+
+The Nürnberg Stove.
+
+This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price.
+
+
+A Provence Rose.
+
+A story perfect in sweetness and in grace.
+
+
+Findelkind.
+
+A charming story about a little Swiss herdsman.
+
+
+_By MISS MULOCK_
+
+
+The Little Lame Prince.
+
+A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means of
+the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.
+
+
+Adventures of a Brownie.
+
+The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but is
+a constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him.
+
+
+His Little Mother.
+
+Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant source of
+delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in this new and attractive
+dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers.
+
+
+Little Sunshine's Holiday.
+
+An attractive story of a summer outing. "Little Sunshine" is another of
+those beautiful child-characters for which Miss Mulock is so justly
+famous.
+
+
+_By JULIANA HORATIA EWING_
+
+
+Jackanapes.
+
+A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and touching
+story, dear alike to young and old.
+
+
+Story of a Short Life.
+
+This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. It is a part of
+the world's literature, and will never die.
+
+
+A Great Emergency.
+
+How a family of children prepared for a great emergency, and how they
+acted when the emergency came.
+
+
+The Trinity Flower.
+
+In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing's best short
+stories for the young people.
+
+
+Madam Liberality.
+
+From her cradle up Madam Liberality found her chief delight in giving.
+
+
+_By FRANCES MARGARET FOX_
+
+
+The Little Giant's Neighbours.
+
+A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbours were the
+creatures of the field and garden.
+
+
+Farmer Brown and the Birds.
+
+A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best
+friends.
+
+
+Betty of Old Mackinaw.
+
+A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little
+readers who like stories of "real people."
+
+
+Mother Nature's Little Ones.
+
+Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood,"
+of the little creatures out-of-doors.
+
+
+_By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE_
+
+
+The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.
+
+This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will appeal to
+all that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful and
+piquant style.
+
+
+The Fortunes of the Fellow.
+
+Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of "The Farrier's Dog
+and His Fellow" will welcome the further account of the "Adventures of
+Baydaw and the Fellow" at the home of the kindly smith among the Green
+Hills of Tennessee.
+
+
+_By FRANCES HODGES WHITE_
+
+
+Helena's Wonderworld.
+
+A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the mysterious
+regions beneath the sea.
+
+
+Aunt Nabby's Children.
+
+This pretty little story, touched with the simple humor of country life,
+tells of two children, who, adopted by Aunt Nabby, have also won their
+way into the affections of the village squire.
+
+
+_By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT_
+
+
+The Prince of the Pin Elves.
+
+A fascinating story of the underground adventures of a sturdy, reliant
+American boy among the elves and gnomes.
+
+
+The Water People.
+
+A companion volume and in a way a sequel to "The Prince of the Pin
+Elves," relating the adventures of "Harry" among the "water people."
+While it has the same characters as the previous book, the story is
+complete in itself.
+
+
+_By OTHER AUTHORS_
+
+
+=The Flight of Rosy Dawn.= By PAULINE BRADFORD MACKIE.
+
+The Christmas of little Wong Jan, or "Rosy Dawn," a young Celestial of
+San Francisco, is the theme of this pleasant little story.
+
+
+=Susanne.= By FRANCES J. DELANO.
+
+This little story will recall in sweetness and appealing charm the work
+of Kate Douglas Wiggin and Laura E. Richards.
+
+
+=Millicent in Dreamland.= By EDNA S. BRAINERD.
+
+The quaintness and fantastic character of Millicent's adventures in
+Dreamland have much of the fascination of "Alice in Wonderland," and all
+small readers of "Alice" will enjoy making Millicent's acquaintance.
+
+
+=Jerry's Reward.= By EVELYN SNEAD BARNETT.
+
+This is an interesting and wholesome little story of the change that
+came over the thoughtless imps on Jefferson Square when they learned to
+know the stout-hearted Jerry and his faithful Peggy.
+
+
+=A Bad Penny.= By JOHN T. WHEELWRIGHT.
+
+No boy should omit reading this vivid story of the New England of 1812.
+
+
+=Gatty and I.= By FRANCES E. CROMPTON.
+
+The small hero and heroine of this little story are twins, "strictly
+brought up." It is a sweet and wholesome little story.
+
+
+=Prince Yellowtop.= By KATE WHITING PATCH.
+
+A pretty little fairy tale.
+
+
+=The Little Christmas Shoe.= By JANE P. SCOTT-WOODRUFF.
+
+A touching story of Yule-tide.
+
+
+=The Little Professor.= By IDA HORTON CASH.
+
+A quaint tale of a quaint little girl.
+
+
+=The Seventh Daughter.= By GRACE WICKHAM CURRAN.
+
+One of the best stories for little girls that has been published for a
+long time.
+
+
+=The Making of Zimri Bunker=: A TALE OF NANTUCKET. By W. J. LONG, Ph. D.
+
+This is a charming story of Nantucket folk by a young clergyman who is
+already well known through his contributions to the _Youth's Companion_,
+_St. Nicholas_, and other well-known magazines. The story deals with a
+sturdy American fisher lad, during the war of 1812.
+
+
+=The King of the Golden River=: A LEGEND OF STIRIA. By JOHN RUSKIN.
+
+Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally intended for
+publication, this little fairy tale soon became known and made a place
+for itself.
+
+
+=Little Peterkin Vandike.= By CHARLES STUART PRATT.
+
+The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming story:
+
+"I dedicate this book, made for the amusement (and perchance
+instruction) of the boys who may read it, to the memory of one boy, who
+would have enjoyed as much as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party,
+but who has now marched out of the ranks of boyhood."
+
+
+=Rab and His Friends.= By Dr. JOHN BROWN.
+
+Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known to need description.
+The dog Rab is loved by all.
+
+
+=The Adventures of Beatrice and Jessie.= By RICHARD MANSFIELD.
+
+The story of two little girls who were suddenly transplanted into the
+"realms of unreality," where they met with many curious and amusing
+adventures.
+
+
+=A Child's Garden of Verses.= By R. L. STEVENSON.
+
+Mr. Stevenson's little volume is too well known to need description. It
+will be heartily welcomed in this new and attractive edition.
+
+
+=Little King Davie.= By NELLIE HELLIS.
+
+The story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make many boys
+thankful they are not in the same position. Davie's accident, hospital
+experiences, conversion, and subsequent life, are of thrilling interest.
+
+
+=The Sleeping Beauty.= A MODERN VERSION. By MARTHA B. DUNN.
+
+This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, intellectually
+"asleep" until she meets the "Fairy Prince," reminds us of "Ouida" at
+her best.
+
+
+=The Young Archer.= By CHARLES E. BRIMBLECOM.
+
+A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied Columbus on his
+voyage to the New World. His loyalty and services through vicissitudes
+and dangers endeared him to the great discoverer, and the account of his
+exploits will be interesting to all boys.
+
+
+=The Fairy of the Rhône.= By A. COMYNS CARR.
+
+Here is a fairy story indeed, one of old-fashioned pure delight. It is
+most gracefully told, and accompanied by charming illustrations.
+
+
+=A Small Small Child.= By E. LIVINGSTON PRESCOTT.
+
+"A Small Small Child" is a moving little tale of sweet influence, more
+powerful than threats or punishments, upon a rowdy of the barracks.
+
+
+=Peggy's Trial.= By MARY KNIGHT POTTER.
+
+Peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose rebellion from a
+mistaken notion of loyalty, and her subsequent reconciliation to the
+dreaded "new mother," are most interestingly told.
+
+
+=For His Country.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful Joe," etc.
+
+A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country;
+written with that charm which has endeared Miss Saunders to hosts of
+readers.
+
+
+=La Belle Nivernaise.= THE STORY OF AN OLD BOAT AND HER CREW. By
+ALPHONSE DAUDET.
+
+All who have read it will be glad to welcome an old favorite, and new
+readers will be happy to have it brought to their friendly attention.
+
+
+=Wee Dorothy.= By LAURA UPDEGRAFF.
+
+A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the eldest, a
+boy, for his sister being its theme and setting. With a bit of sadness
+at the beginning, the story is otherwise bright and sunny, and
+altogether wholesome in every way.
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
+
+
+=The Little Colonel Stories.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
+
+Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "The
+Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of Kentucky," and "The Giant
+Scissors," put into a single volume, owing to the popular demand for a
+uniform series of the stories dealing with one of the most popular of
+juvenile heroines.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated  $1.50
+
+
+=The Little Colonel's House Party.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
+Illustrated by Louis Meynell.
+
+  One vol., library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover      $1.50
+
+
+=The Little Colonel's Holidays.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated
+by L. J. Bridgman.
+
+  One vol., large 12mo, cloth, decorative cover      $1.50
+
+
+=The Little Colonel's Hero.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated by
+E. B. Barry.
+
+One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative,
+
+  $1.20 _net_ (postage extra)
+
+
+=The Little Colonel at Boarding School.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
+Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth      $1.20 _net_ (postage extra)
+
+Since the time of "Little Women," no juvenile heroine has been better
+beloved of her child readers than Mrs. Johnston's "Little Colonel." Each
+succeeding book has been more popular than its predecessor, and now
+thousands of little readers wait patiently each year for the appearance
+of "the new Little Colonel Book."
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES
+
+
+The most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child-life in
+other lands, filled with quaint sayings doings, and adventures.
+
+Each 1 vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six full-page
+illustrations in color by L. J. Bridgman.
+
+  Price per volume      $0.50 _net_, postpaid $0.56
+
+      "Juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and
+      instruction out of Mary Hazelton Wade's Little Cousin
+      Series. . . . Pleasing narratives give pictures of the
+      little folk in the faraway lands in their duties and
+      pleasures, showing their odd ways of playing,
+      studying, their queer homes, clothes, and
+      playthings. . . . The style of the stories is all that
+      can be desired for entertainment, the author
+      describing things in a very real and delightful
+      fashion."--_Detroit News-Tribune._
+
+
+_By MARY HAZELTON WADE_
+
+    =Our Little Swiss Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Norwegian Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Italian Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Siamese Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Cuban Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Hawaiian Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Eskimo Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Philippine Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Porto Rican Cousin.=
+    =Our Little African Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Japanese Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Brown Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Indian Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Russian Cousin.=
+
+
+_By ISAAC HEADLAND TAYLOR_
+
+    =Our Little Chinese Cousin.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Repeated story titles were deleted.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories, by 
+Annie Fellows Johnston and W. L. Taylor
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER ***
+
+***** This file should be named 39593-8.txt or 39593-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/5/9/39593/
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Aunt 'Liza's Hero, by Annie Fellows Johnston.
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories, by 
+Annie Fellows Johnston and W. L. Taylor
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories
+
+Author: Annie Fellows Johnston
+        W. L. Taylor
+
+Release Date: May 2, 2012 [EBook #39593]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 401px;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="401" height="600" alt="cover" />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h1>AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO</h1>
+
+<div class='center'>AND OTHER STORIES</div>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" /><div class='bbox'>
+<div class='adtitle1'>Works of<br />
+
+<span class='big'>Annie Fellows Johnston</span></div>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle2'>THE LITTLE COLONEL SERIES</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20px;">
+<img src="images/leaf.png" width="20" height="17" alt="leaf decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Little colonel books">
+<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel</td><td align="right">$.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Giant Scissors</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Two Little Knights of Kentucky&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td align="right">.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel Stories</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Containing in one volume the three stories, "The</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Colonel," "The Giant Scissors," and "Two</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Knights of Kentucky.")</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel's House Party</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel's Holidays</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel's Hero</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel at Boarding-School</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="center" colspan='2'>(<i>In Preparation</i>)</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel in Arizona</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20px;">
+<img src="images/leaf.png" width="20" height="17" alt="leaf decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<div class='adtitle2'>OTHER BOOKS</div>
+
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Other books">
+<tr><td align="left">Joel: A Boy of Galilee</td><td align="right">$1.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Big Brother</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Ole Mammy's Torment</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Story of Dago</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Cicely</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Aunt 'Liza's Hero</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">The Quilt That Jack Built</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Asa Holmes</td><td align="right">1.00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Flip's "Islands of Providence"</td><td align="right">1.00</td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">Songs Ysame (Poems, with Albion Fellows Bacon)&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; </td><td align="right">1.00</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20px;">
+<img src="images/leaf.png" width="20" height="17" alt="leaf decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='center'><br /><br />
+L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY<br />
+200 Summer Street &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;          Boston, Mass.<br />
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 342px;"><a id="frontis"></a>
+<img src="images/frontis.png" width="342" height="450" alt="Woman sick in bed with two visitors" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;AT FIRST HE ALWAYS BROUGHT SOME BOY WITH HIM&quot;
+</span>
+<div class='right'>
+(<i>See <a href="#Page_43">page 43</a></i>)<br />
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+
+<div class='bbox'>
+<div class='adtitle1'>Cosy Corner Series</div>
+
+</div><div class='bbox'>
+<h1>AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO<br />
+
+<span class='small'>AND OTHER STORIES</span></h1>
+</div><div class='bbox'>
+<div class='center'>By<br />
+<span class='author'>Annie Fellows Johnston</span><br />
+
+
+<span class='small'>Author of</span><br />
+<span class='small'>"The Little Colonel Series," "Big Brother," "The</span><br />
+<span class='small'>Story of Dago," "Ole Mammy's Torment," etc.</span><br /></div>
+</div><div class='bbox'><div class='center'>
+<i>Illustrated by</i><br />
+W. L. Taylor and others<br />
+</div>
+</div><div class='bbox'><br /><br />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 105px;">
+<img src="images/emblem.png" width="105" height="100" alt="Emblem" />
+<br /><br /></div>
+</div><div class='bbox'>
+<div class='center'>
+<i>Boston</i>
+<img src="images/leaves.png" width="125" height="15" alt="decoration: leaves" />
+<br />
+<i>L. C. Page &amp; Company</i><br />
+<img src="images/leaves.png" width="125" height="15" alt="decoration: leaves" />
+ <i>1904.</i><br />
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+
+<div class='copyright'>
+<i>Copyright 1889, 1890, 1893, 1894, 1895, 1899,</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">By Perry Mason Company</span><br />
+<br />
+<i>Copyright, 1903</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">By L. C. Page &amp; Company</span><br />
+(INCORPORATED)<br />
+<br />
+<i>All rights reserved</i><br />
+<br />
+Published August, 1903<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+Colonial Press<br />
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &amp; Co.<br />
+Boston, Mass., U. S. A.<br />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+
+<h2>ACKNOWLEDGMENT</h2>
+
+
+<p>These stories first appeared in the <i>Youth's
+Companion</i>. The author wishes to acknowledge
+the courtesy of the editors in permitting her to
+republish them in the present volume.</p>
+
+<p>Messrs. L. C. Page and Company wish also
+to acknowledge the courtesy of the editors in
+granting them permission to use the original
+illustrations.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 356px;">
+<img src="images/contents.png" width="356" height="250" alt="Contents decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Aunt 'Liza's Hero</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Captain's Celebration</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Jode's Circus Money</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Jimmy's Errand</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Washington's Birthday at Hardyville</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">An Old Daguerreotype</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illustrations.png" width="400" height="150" alt="Illustrations decoration" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations">
+<tr><td align="left">&nbsp;</td><td align="right"><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">At first he always brought some boy with him</span>" (<i>See <a href="#Page_43">page 43</a></i>)</td><td align="left"><i><a href="#frontis">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">She listened intently, expectantly</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">She sat smiling happily in the depths of the black sunbonnet</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">Mr. Gates kicked his feet against the andirons</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Aunt 'Liza Barnes</span> leaned over the front
+gate at the end of the garden path, and pulled
+her black sunbonnet farther over her wrinkled
+face to shade her dim eyes from the glare of the
+morning sun. Something unusual was happening
+down the street, judging from the rapidly
+approaching noise and dust.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt 'Liza had been weeding her little vegetable
+garden at the back of the house when she
+first heard the confused shouting of many
+voices. She thought it was a runaway, and
+hurried to the gate as fast as her rheumatic
+joints would allow.</p>
+
+<p>Runaway teams had often startled the sleepy
+streets of this little Indiana village, but never
+before had such a wild procession raced through
+its thoroughfares. Two well-grown calves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
+dashed past, dragging behind them an overturned,
+home-made cart, to which they were
+harnessed by pieces of clothes-lines and rusty
+trace-chains.</p>
+
+<p>Behind them came a breathless crowd of
+shouting boys and barking dogs. They were
+gasping in the heat and the clouds of yellow
+dust their feet had kicked up. Aunt 'Liza's
+black sunbonnet leaned farther over the gate
+as she called shrilly to the boy who brought
+up the rear, "What's the matter, Ben?"</p>
+
+<p>The boy dropped out of the race and came
+back and leaned against the fence, still grinning.</p>
+
+<p>"Running isn't much in my line," he panted,
+as he wiped his fat, freckled face on his shirtsleeve.
+"But it was too funny to see them
+calves kick up their heels and light out. One
+is Joe Meadows's and one is Jeff Whitman's.
+They're broke in to work single, and pull all
+right that way. But the boys took a notion to
+make 'em work double. This is the first time
+they've tried it. Put bits in their mouths, too,
+and drive 'em with reins like horses. My!
+But didn't they go lickety-split!"</p>
+
+<p>Aunt 'Liza chuckled. Seventy-five years had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+made her bent and feeble, but her sense of fun
+and her sympathies were still fresh and quick.
+Every boy in the place felt that she was his
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>In her tumble-down cottage on the outskirts
+of the town she lived alone, excepting when
+her drunken, thriftless son Henry came back
+to be taken care of awhile. She supported herself
+by selling vegetables, chickens, and eggs.</p>
+
+<p>Most people had forgotten that she had once
+lived in much better circumstances. Whatever
+longings she may have had for the prosperity
+of her early days, no one knew about them.
+Perhaps it was because she never talked of
+herself, and was so ready to listen to the complaints
+of others, that everybody went to her
+with their troubles.</p>
+
+<p>The racing calves soon came to a halt. In a
+few minutes the procession came back, and
+halted quietly in front of the little garden gate.
+Jeff was leading the calves, which looked
+around with mild, reproachful eyes, as if wondering
+at the disturbance.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt 'Liza," said Jeff, "can you lend me
+a strap or something? The reins broke. That's
+how they happened to get away from me."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You can take the rope hanging up in the
+well-shed if you'll bring it back before night."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Aunt 'Liza. I'll do as much for
+you some day. Just look at Daisy and Bolivar!
+We're going to take them to the fair next fall,
+and enter them as the fastest trotting calves on
+record."</p>
+
+<p>"Boys are such harum-scarum creatures,"
+said the old woman, as she bent painfully over
+her weeding again. "Likely enough Jeff'll
+never think of that rope another time."</p>
+
+<p>But after dinner, as she sat out on a bench by
+the back door, smoking her cob-pipe, Jeff came
+around the house with the rope on his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down and rest a spell," insisted the old
+woman. "I get powerful lonesome day in and
+day out, with scarcely anybody to pass a word
+with."</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Henry?" Jeff asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Off on another spree," she answered, bitterly.
+"I tell you, Jeff, it's a hard thing for a
+mother to have to say about a son, but many
+and many's the time I've wished the Lord had
+a-taken him when he was a baby."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe he'll come all right yet, Aunt
+'Liza," said Jeff.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not he. Not an honest day's work has he
+done since he left the army," she went on.
+"He was steady enough before the war, but
+camp life seemed to upset him like. He was
+just a boy, you see, and he fell in with a rough
+lot that started him to drinking and gambling.
+He's never been the same since. Pity the war
+took my poor Mac instead. <i>He</i> never would
+'a' left his old mother to drudge and slave to
+keep soul and body together."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff listened in amazement to this sudden
+burst of confidence. He had never heard her
+complain before, and scarcely knew how to answer
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Aunt 'Liza, I never knew before that
+you had two sons!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I suppose not," answered the old
+woman, sadly. "I suppose everybody's forgotten
+him but me. My Mac never had his
+dues. He never had justice done him. No,
+he never had justice done him." She kept repeating
+the words.</p>
+
+<p>"He ought to have come home a captain,
+with a sword, for he was a brave boy, my Mac
+was. His picture is in the front room, if you've
+a mind to step in and look at it, and his cap<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+and his canteen are hanging on the peg where
+he left them. Dear, dear! what a long time
+that's been!"</p>
+
+<p>Jeff had all a boy's admiration for a hero.
+He took the faded cap reverently from its peg
+to examine the bullet-hole in the crown. He
+turned the battered canteen over and over, wishing
+he knew how it came by all its dents and
+bruises. The face that looked out from the
+old ambrotype with such steadfast eyes showed
+honesty in every line.</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't look much like old Henry,"
+thought Jeff.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you tell me about him, Aunt 'Liza?"
+he asked, as he seated himself on the door-step
+again. "I always did love to hear about the
+war."</p>
+
+<p>It was not often she had such an attentive
+listener. He questioned her eagerly, and she
+took a childish delight in recalling every detail
+connected with her "soldier-boy." It had been
+so many, many years since she had spoken of
+him to any one.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he was wounded twice," she told him,
+"and lay for weeks in a hospital. Then he was
+six months in a Southern prison, and escaped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+and joined the army again. He had risked his
+own life, too, to save his colonel. Nobody had
+shown more courage and daring than he.
+Everybody told me that, but other men were
+promoted and sent home with titles. My boy
+came home to die, with only scars and a wasting
+fever."</p>
+
+<p>Thrilled by her story, Jeff entered so fully
+into the spirit of the recital that he, too, forgot
+that McIntyre Barnes was only one among
+many thousands of heroes who were never
+raised above the rank of private. Mother-love
+transfigured simple patriotism into more than
+heroism.</p>
+
+<p>As age came on she brooded over the thought
+more and more. Even the loss of one son and
+the neglect by the other did not cause her now
+such sorrow as that her country failed to recognize
+in her Mac the hero whom she all but
+worshipped.</p>
+
+<p>Jeff found himself repeating the old woman's
+words as he went toward home late in the
+afternoon:</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mac never had justice done him&mdash;he
+never had his dues."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Several days after that Jeff and Joe stopped
+at the house again to borrow a pail.</p>
+
+<p>"We forgot to water the calves this morning,"
+Jeff explained, "and they've had a pretty
+tough time hauling brush. They pull together
+splendidly now. We've been clearing out Mr.
+Spalding's orchard."</p>
+
+<p>"Look around and help yourselves," Aunt
+'Liza answered, briskly. "When once I get
+down on my knees to weed I'm too stiff to get
+up again in a hurry. You'll find how it is,
+maybe, when you get into your seventies."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard the news?" asked Joe, as
+he held the pail for Daisy to drink.</p>
+
+<p>"No. What, boys?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know Decoration Day comes next
+week, and for once Stone Bluff is going to
+celebrate. A brass band is coming over from
+Riggsville, and they've sent to Indianapolis for
+some big speaker. There's going to be a procession,
+and a lot of girls will march around,
+all dressed in white, to decorate the graves."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt 'Liza raised herself up painfully from
+the roll of carpet on which she had been kneeling.
+A bunch of weeds was still clasped in her
+stiff old fingers.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is it really so, Jeff?" she asked, tremulously,
+as he started to the well for another
+pail of water. "Are they going to do all
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Aunt 'Liza."</p>
+
+<p>"If I cut down all my roses, won't you boys
+take 'em out to the graveyard for me? I'm
+afraid nobody'll remember my poor Mac."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course we will," they answered,
+heartily. "But why can't you go yourself,
+Aunt 'Liza? Everybody's going."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt 'Liza pushed back the big sunbonnet,
+and looked wistfully across the meadows to
+a distant grove of cedar-trees that were outlined
+against the clear May sky.</p>
+
+<p>"It's been six years since I was out there.
+I'm too old and stiff ever to walk that far
+again, but nobody knows how I long to go
+sometimes. I s'pose I must wait now until I'm
+carried there; but then it'll be too late to do
+anything for <i>him</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Jeff looked at Joe, then at the hopeless expression
+of the wrinkled face.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you what we can do, Aunt 'Liza,"
+he said, eagerly. "If you don't mind riding
+in such an outlandish rig, the cart is big enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+to hold you comfortably, and we'll make the
+calves pull you out there. Will you go that
+way?"</p>
+
+<p>Two tears that were rolling slowly down the
+furrows of her cheek dropped off suddenly as
+she laughed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, bless your heart, sonny," she exclaimed,
+pleased as a child. "I'd ride behind
+a sheep to get there. What a fine picture we'll
+make, to be sure! They'll put us in a comic
+almanac."</p>
+
+<p>Then she added, solemnly, "I'll thank you
+to my dying day, boys; and mark my words,
+the Lord will surely bless you for your kindness
+to a lonely old woman."</p>
+
+<p>When they were out of sight of the house Joe
+lay down on the grass and rolled over and over
+in a fit of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"My eyes! what a figure we'll cut!" he
+gasped. "We'll have to go early, or we'll
+have a crowd at our heels."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you suppose," said Jeff, "that the
+grave will be in pretty bad shape, if she hasn't
+been out there for six years? If it is, she'll
+feel worse than if she had stayed at home."</p>
+
+<p>"There's a lot of 'em all grown up with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
+weeds and briers, with nothing but 'Unknown'
+marked on the headboards," answered Joe.
+"Let's get a cartload of sod, and fix them all
+up this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>A little while later the rickety gate of the
+neglected burying-ground opened to admit two
+boys shouldering spades and driving a team of
+calves.</p>
+
+<p>"Get up, Bolivar!" called Jeff; "you're
+working for your country now."</p>
+
+<p>That Decoration Day was a memorable one
+in Stone Bluff. The earliest sunshine that
+streaked the chimney-tops and gilded the broad
+Ohio, flowing past the little town, found Aunt
+'Liza Barnes in her garden. She had stripped
+her bushes of early roses, and her borders of all
+their gay old-fashioned flowers, to twist into
+wreaths to carry with her.</p>
+
+<p>When the morning train came puffing in
+from Indianapolis a large crowd had assembled
+at the station to catch a glimpse of Colonel
+Wake, the orator of the day. Jeff Whitman
+was there, painfully conscious of being dressed
+in his best, and of having a dreaded duty to
+perform.</p>
+
+<p>He watched the colonel step into Judge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+Brown's carriage, and as it disappeared from
+view he walked slowly down the street in the
+direction it had gone.</p>
+
+<p>All the morning Jeff hung around Judge
+Brown's house, trying to make up his mind to
+carry out his plan. At last he set his teeth
+together, and resolutely opened the gate. He
+felt ready to sink into the ground when the
+judge himself opened the door. Jeff's voice
+sounded far away and unnatural when he asked
+permission to speak to Colonel Wake.</p>
+
+<p>In another moment the boy was in the
+dreaded presence, nervously fingering his hat,
+and trying to recall his carefully prepared
+speech. Then at sight of the colonel's smiling
+face his embarrassment vanished.</p>
+
+<p>Before he realized it he had poured out the
+whole story of Aunt 'Liza's hero.</p>
+
+<p>"We are going to take her out there this
+afternoon," he said, in conclusion. "She hasn't
+been for six years, and maybe she won't live
+to go another year. She says people always
+praise Captain Bowles, who's buried there, and
+Corporal Reed, and even the little drummer
+boy, but they never say anything about her
+Mac. And&mdash;and&mdash;well, I thought if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+knew what a splendid soldier he was, and the
+brave things he did, maybe you'd just mention
+him, too. It would please the old lady so
+much."</p>
+
+<p>The colonel promised, and gave Jeff a hearty
+handshake, saying he wanted to be introduced
+to Mrs. Barnes, and would depend on Jeff to
+point her out to him.</p>
+
+<p>Nearly every one walked out to Cedar Ridge.
+The way was not long, and by-paths led
+through shady lanes, where blackberry vines
+and wild roses trailed over the fence-corners.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Wake and the judge drove in a carriage.
+The flower girls were drawn in a gaily
+decorated moving car, and carried flags and
+flowers. No one saw Aunt 'Liza in her strange
+conveyance, for she had gone long before the
+procession started.</p>
+
+<p>"How nice and green it is," she said,
+fondly stroking the smooth sod. "I needn't
+have worried all this time, thinking it wasn't
+looked after. Somebody has been kind to my
+Mac. I was going to give every single one of
+these flowers to him, but now I want you boys
+to take some of them and put a wreath on every
+one of those six graves marked 'Unknown.'"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When the procession came up she was sitting
+on the same old folded quilt that had done duty
+in the cart as a seat. She leaned contentedly
+against the wooden headboard, marked simply,
+"McIntyre Barnes," with the number of his
+company and regiment. People looked at her
+in surprise, wondering how she came there.</p>
+
+<p>The boys had hitched the calves out of sight,
+on the other side of the hill; for being boys,
+they could not bear to be laughed at.</p>
+
+<p>Overhead the spicy cedar boughs waved
+softly in the May breeze. Below the bluff the
+waters of the Ohio sparkled in the sun. During
+all the ceremonies that preceded Colonel Wake's
+speech Aunt 'Liza sat with her dim eyes fixed
+on the Kentucky shore across the shining of
+the river.</p>
+
+<p>While the band played and the choir sang
+she never turned her gaze from it. Then the
+clapping of hands that announced the speaker
+seemed to arouse her. She listened intently,
+expectantly.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Wake was a true orator. He
+swayed the listening crowd at his will, first
+to laughter and then to tears.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a id="Page_28"></a>
+<img src="images/i001.png" width="500" height="351" alt="Woman sitting on the ground" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;SHE LISTENED INTENTLY, EXPECTANTLY.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The boy's story that morning had greatly
+interested him. At the close, after referring
+tenderly to the unknown dead, and offering his
+passing tribute to the others, he told the story
+of McIntyre Barnes's heroic life.</p>
+
+<p>He told it as only an old soldier and an
+eloquent speaker could tell it. The old woman,
+sitting on her folded quilt on her son's grave,
+threw off the black bonnet to catch every tone,
+every gesture, and smiled up into his face with
+proud, grateful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She felt like a queen coming into a long-deferred
+kingdom. That was her Mac he was
+talking about! This great soldier knew him
+and honoured him.</p>
+
+<p>Somebody called for three cheers for McIntyre
+Barnes. As the lusty voices rang up
+through the cedar boughs and echoed across the
+water she bowed her head on the sod, and her
+happy tears fell like rain. Perhaps it was the
+speech that moved them. Perhaps it was the
+sight of that wrinkled, tear-wet face; for when
+the flower girls finished strewing their garlands
+every grave had been decorated, but
+McIntyre Barnes's had received more than all.
+It was completely covered with fragrant bloom.</p>
+
+<p>The people who stood near could not help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a><br /><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+smiling when the boys drove up with the little
+cart to which the frisky calves were hitched.
+But Aunt 'Liza was in such an uplifted frame
+of mind that she would not have noticed had
+they laughed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>The colonel came and shook her hands, saying
+he was proud to know the mother of such
+a son. After that everybody else came crowding
+around to speak to her.</p>
+
+<p>The band started back toward town, playing
+a lively quickstep, and the crowd soon dispersed.
+The boys did not talk much as they
+walked homeward in the sunset beside Bolivar
+and Daisy.</p>
+
+<p>As for Aunt 'Liza, she sat smiling happily
+in the depths of the black sunbonnet, and saying
+over and over:</p>
+
+<p>"My Mac has had his dues at last. It was
+a long time, but he's had justice done him at
+last!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/i002.png" width="500" height="320" alt="Woman in back of  wagon" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;SHE SAT SMILING HAPPILY IN THE DEPTHS OF THE BLACK SUNBONNET.&quot;</span>
+</div><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>THE CAPTAIN'S CELEBRATION</h2>
+
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Is</span> there anything I can do for you, captain?"
+Doctor Morris had made the rounds of
+the hospital and was standing beside the bed
+in a narrow little room at the end of the hall.
+He took the old man's feeble hand in one of
+his firm ones, and with the other gently stroked
+the white hair back from his wrinkled forehead.
+This seemed to smooth away some pain,
+too, for the faded blue eyes looked up at him
+with a grateful smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he answered, "there is. I don't like
+to trouble you, doctor, but I do want a piece
+of an old broomstick, and if I could have it
+early in the morning, I'd be very much obliged
+to you, sir."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"A broomstick!" repeated the doctor, in
+amazement, wondering if the old man's mind
+was beginning to wander. "What under the
+sun could you do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>A faint smile crossed the captain's face.
+Then a spell of coughing delayed the answer
+for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to carve something," he panted,
+"and broom-handle wood is easy to cut. The
+nurse has been like an angel to me all these
+weeks that I have been in the hospital. Ever
+since they moved me into this room by myself,
+I've known that I haven't much longer to live,
+and I want to leave her something to show
+that I appreciate her kindness, and was grateful
+for it."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor pressed the old man's hand as he
+went on: "I've been thinking I would like
+to make her a little chain. My grandfather
+taught me to carve such things when I was a
+lad. He was a Swiss, you know, and followed
+my mother over to this country soon after I
+was born. He was so old that all he could
+do was just to sit under the trees and carve
+little toys to amuse the children. I have his
+pocket-knife yet," he added, with a smile of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+childish satisfaction that made the old face
+pathetic.</p>
+
+<p>He looked down at his right hand, so twisted
+out of shape that it was nearly useless. "I
+can't do as good work as I used to do thirty
+years ago, before that Minie ball crippled me,"
+he said. "But Miss Mary will make allowances;
+she will know that I remembered and
+was grateful, don't you think?" he asked, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Most certainly," answered the doctor,
+stooping to arrange the patient's pillows more
+comfortably about him. "But, captain, I am
+afraid that I can't allow you to undertake anything
+that will be a tax on your strength. You
+haven't any to spare."</p>
+
+<p>So deep a shade of disappointment crept into
+the old man's wistful eyes that the doctor felt
+an ache in his throat, and drove it away with
+a little laugh. "Pshaw!" he said, hastily.
+"You shall have a mile of broomsticks if you
+want them. I'll send my son Max up with one
+inside the next hour."</p>
+
+<p>The gong had just struck the signal for dismissal
+in the third-ward school building,
+when the busy physician drove up to the curbstone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+in his sleigh to get his boy. "Max will
+be down in a minute, Doctor Morris!" called a
+boy, as he ran past the sleigh with his skates
+slung over his shoulder. "Miss Clay kept some
+of 'em to see about celebrating Washington's
+Birthday."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Ned," answered the doctor.
+He drew the robes closer about him as he
+walked the horse up and down, for there was
+a keen wind blowing this cold February afternoon.
+Presently a group of boys loitered by
+and stood on the corner, waiting for the rest
+of Miss Clay's pupils to join them.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad Miss Clay isn't my teacher!" one
+of them exclaimed, in a loud voice. "Skating's
+too good now to waste time learning
+to spout pieces."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I think it's about time to give George
+Washington a rest," said the largest boy in the
+group. "He's a back number, and I'll tell her
+so, too, if she asks me to say any of her old
+pieces."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a pretty way to talk about the Father
+of your Country!" piped up a little fellow in
+spectacles, who was sliding on the ice in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+gutter. "Back number! I just dare you to
+say that to Miss Clay!"</p>
+
+<p>The doctor overheard this, but he did not
+hear the quarrel that followed, for Max came
+running down just then, and climbed into the
+sleigh.</p>
+
+<p>"You're late to-day, my boy. What's the
+trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Miss Clay kept us to arrange a programme
+for Washington's Birthday, and nobody
+wanted to take part. We're all tired of
+the same old thing year after year&mdash;just songs
+and recitations and dialogues about the same
+old fellow!"</p>
+
+<p>"A fine lot of patriots this next generation is
+going to turn out!" said the doctor, so sternly
+that Max gave him a quick glance of surprise,
+and then flushed at his evident disapproval.
+The grim look crept into the man's eyes that
+was always there when he was absorbed in a
+critical case.</p>
+
+<p>"O papa, are we going home?" cried Max,
+in a disappointed tone, as the horse turned in
+that direction.</p>
+
+<p>"For a few minutes," answered Doctor Morris.
+"I want you to take something to one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+of my patients at the hospital. I'll leave you
+with him while I go on to the Berridge place."</p>
+
+<p>Max, who had expected a long sleigh-ride,
+forgot his disappointment when he found that
+Captain Wilshire was an old soldier, who bore
+the scars of more than one battle. An internal
+wound, received at Shiloh, still troubled him at
+times, and exposure during the last year of the
+war had brought on the consumption that was
+now slowly taking his life away.</p>
+
+<p>"He is one of the truest patriots it has ever
+been my honour to meet," said the doctor. "I
+have known many statesmen in my time, several
+generals and two Presidents. Any one
+of them might well be proud to take off his
+hat to Joe Wilshire. When you see the old
+hero lying alone, Max, in that cheerless little
+room in the hospital, I want you to think of
+the reason why I so greatly respect him. It is
+not simply because he was brave in battle, or
+because his heroic cheerfulness kept him alive
+through half a year in Libby Prison, or because
+he came home with the seeds of disease planted
+in his system and his good right hand crippled
+and useless. Many a man has encountered these
+tests, and yet has lost his zeal for his country<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+as soon as the cannon smoke cleared away and
+the martial music was done."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why is it, papa?" asked Max, for
+they had reached the house, and the doctor was
+looking in the bottom of the sleigh for the
+hitching-strap.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, when he came home, he was of course
+poor. He made a meagre living for his wife
+and baby with only a few acres of land and of
+fruit-trees with which to do it. Several times
+his old comrades suggested to him that he
+ought to apply for some fat government office,
+but he always said, 'Boys, I know that you
+mean well, and that you and my friends could
+probably get me in on the score of my being
+a disabled soldier; but I know and you know
+that I am not competent to fill such an office.
+If I could fill an office, and at the same time
+serve my country by doing so, I'd unhesitatingly
+take one. But I'd only be serving myself
+by filling my pockets at the government's expense.
+No, I'm obliged to you, boys, but I
+can't feel that it would be exactly honourable.'</p>
+
+<p>"Now that's patriotism, Max, of the highest
+type, showing unselfish loyalty and love of
+country!" exclaimed the doctor, as he sprang<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+out of the sleigh. "I was disturbed and hurt
+just now, when I heard the boys talking about
+Washington being a 'back number.' It hurt
+because there is some truth in it. Wars call
+out such generals, but there are too few men in
+these times of peace who step into office with
+Washington's high, unselfish motives. And I
+fear the number is few of men who will deliberately
+give up the honour and emolument of
+office because they believe some one else can
+render better service, or because principle pulls
+harder than public purse-strings. Yes, such patriotism
+is getting to be a 'back number'&mdash;so
+far back that it has grown burdensome for
+some people to honour it, even once a year."</p>
+
+<p>Max had seldom heard his father speak so
+indignantly before, and looked at him in surprise
+as he gave a final fierce tug at the knot he
+had tied in the halter.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, when Doctor Morris called at
+the hospital, Max came running down-stairs
+with his eyes shining and an old battered canteen
+under his arm. "The captain gave it to
+me!" he said. "He has ever so many old
+relics in his chest, and there is a splendid story
+about each one. O papa, isn't he just the lovablest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+old man? He asked me to come often
+and bring some of the boys. He says he gets
+so lonesome!"</p>
+
+<p>Nobody but the nurse knew how many
+times Max climbed the hospital stairs during
+the next two weeks. At first he always brought
+some boy with him to listen to the captain's
+stories, and carry away some relic as a treasured
+keepsake from the chest beside his bed;
+but later, the captain coughed too frequently to
+talk much. Then Max came alone, with bunches
+of hothouse flowers and little paper bags full
+of tempting fruit.</p>
+
+<p>No matter when the boy came, he always
+found the captain busy with his carving. Day
+by day the old broomstick was slowly approaching
+a wonderful transformation. It would soon
+be turned into a long, slender chain, with each
+tiny, separate link perfectly fashioned. Sometimes,
+the nurse, not knowing that it was intended
+for her, and wondering at the old man's
+childish impatience to finish it, would gently
+insist on taking it out of his feverish fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait till to-morrow, when you are
+stronger," she would urge. He would then reluctantly
+give it up, but the thought of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+work stayed with him. Even in his sleep his
+poor crippled hand bent as if to grasp it, and the
+left one feebly repeated the motions of wielding
+a knife.</p>
+
+<p>"I have set my heart on having it done by
+Washington's Birthday," he whispered one day
+to Max. "Oh, if I can only hold out to finish
+it!" he added, as he sank back wearily. The
+nurse put the unfinished work aside, but the
+next morning he begged so imploringly for it
+that she had not the heart to refuse.</p>
+
+<p>When the twenty-second of February came,
+Miss Clay's schoolroom was in gala dress for
+the occasion. She had been untiring in her
+efforts to make the ceremonies a success, but
+unconsciously to himself the old captain had
+done far more than she to arouse an interest
+in the programme.</p>
+
+<p>Max came first with his old canteen, and
+repeated the story that the captain had told
+him, of the brave comrade who had carried it.
+Then one of the boys brought an old army
+cape of faded blue, and another a broken spur.
+Simple tales were told of love and loyalty that
+had never found their way into print, but they
+stirred the hearts of the hearers in the schoolroom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
+with a pathetic tenderness for these unknown
+men who had been so bravely true.</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Morris came into the room just in
+time to see the big fellow stand up who had
+declared the Father of his Country a "back
+number." He, too, had been with the captain,
+for he carried an old blood-stained, bullet-torn
+flag. He told its history so well that the tears
+came to his eyes in his earnestness, and the
+audience sympathized with the feeling and applauded
+him when he had finished.</p>
+
+<p>"I see that we have a member of the school
+board with us," said Miss Clay, bowing to
+Doctor Morris. "We want to hear from him
+before we have our last song."</p>
+
+<p>This was the opportunity the doctor was
+waiting for. He took a little package from his
+pocket. It was the captain's finished chain,
+from which hung a tiny anchor, beautifully
+carved and polished. "The nurse showed this
+to me a little while ago," he said, "and I
+asked her to let me bring it here for you to see."</p>
+
+<p>The speech that followed was very much like
+the one he had made to Max in the sleigh&mdash;all
+afire with admiration for the man who, with
+crippled hand and with empty pockets, had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+turned his back on office, for love of country,
+for conscience' sake.</p>
+
+<p>"But of all the noble lessons of this old
+man's life," he said, in conclusion, "none is
+more beautiful in spirit than this last act; this
+expression of gratitude to his faithful nurse.
+What is so commonplace, so soon forgotten as
+a bit of old broom-handle? But look at this."
+Again he held up the chain. "See the transforming
+power of a noble purpose! He has
+made of it an anchor, and fastened to her heart,
+with every link, the memory of his great gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to preach," he went on, "but
+I must say that you young people, I fear, miss
+the spirit with which the nation should honour
+this day, if you do not see that the success of
+its celebration depends entirely on this same
+transforming power. A heartfelt gratitude to
+the heroes who won and kept our liberty can
+make beautiful the most commonplace act of
+commemoration."</p>
+
+<p>Later, when the February afternoon was
+nearing twilight, there was a muffled sound of
+fife and drum on the hospital stairs. The many
+feet stepped lightly, but with a measured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+tramp, tramp as Miss Clay's school marched
+down the long corridor, four abreast.</p>
+
+<p>The captain had been delirious at intervals
+all the afternoon. Now he opened his eyes
+with a puzzled expression, for the martial music
+made him forget his surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>"It's just the young people from the
+school," explained the nurse, opening the door
+wider, that he might see the long rows of
+bright-faced boys and girls in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>Max came in and took the old soldier's
+hand, stroking it affectionately while he
+talked. "They're going to sing 'Hail Columbia,'
+captain. You know how it goes:</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Let independence be our boast,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Ever mindful what it cost,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Ever grateful for the prize!"</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>"You see we never were really 'mindful
+what it cost' until we knew you, captain," Max
+went on, "so we never thought about being
+especially grateful to anybody before. This is
+a sort of thank-offering to such men as Washington&mdash;and
+you."</p>
+
+<p>The captain tried to raise himself from the
+pillows&mdash;tried to speak some word of greeting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+to the young people who were watching him,
+but sank back exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't!" he said to the nurse in a voice
+that trembled pitifully. "You tell them how
+glad&mdash;how proud&mdash;" Then speech failed
+him. The next moment the boys and girls
+began to sing.</p>
+
+<p>A happy light came into the dim old eyes, as
+the sweet voices were lifted up in the inspiring
+airs that he loved so well.</p>
+
+<p>They marched out softly when the songs
+were done, waving good-bye to him with their
+handkerchiefs. Down the street the music of
+fife and drum sounded fainter and fainter. The
+room was growing dark.</p>
+
+<p>Max, who lingered behind, saw the white
+head turn on the pillow and heard a long-drawn
+sigh of satisfaction: "The dear children!
+God help 'em to keep the old flag flying!"
+And that was the captain's last audible
+prayer.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>JODE'S CIRCUS MONEY</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was nearly school-time, but Jode didn't
+seem to be at all in a hurry. He sat on the
+wood-pile with the empty chip-basket beside
+him, slowly untying his shoes. The old gobbler
+strutted around the corner of the kitchen,
+and halted suddenly with one foot drawn up,
+as he caught sight of the red stockings.</p>
+
+<p>"Quit! quit!" he cried, stretching his neck
+with an angry gobble.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Jane had come to the door to shake the
+table-cloth. She stood a moment, sniffing the
+warm spring air, and peering up at the pink
+peach-tree buds through her spectacles.</p>
+
+<p>"Quit! quit!" cried the turkey again, and
+his angry voice attracted her attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mary Ann," she exclaimed, "I just
+wish you'd see what that boy's a-doin'! It isn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+for me to say, but if he was <i>mine</i>, he'd not go
+around barefoot this kind of weather. Next
+thing will be croup. You'd better 'tend to
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Meddlesome old thing!" muttered Jode,
+disrespectfully, throwing a chip at the gobbler.
+"Both of you had to go and tell."</p>
+
+<p>The table-cloth whisked into the kitchen, followed
+by the complaining voice, and soon after
+his mother came to the door and called him.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you fed the calves, Joseph?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes'm."</p>
+
+<p>"And filled the chip-basket?"</p>
+
+<p>"Almost."</p>
+
+<p>"Then hurry, my son; it is nearly school-time."</p>
+
+<p>"I say, ma," he began, "can't I go barefooted?
+It's plenty warm, and lots of the boys
+do."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no, child," she answered. "I told
+you the other day not to think of such a thing
+for another month at least. Put on your shoes
+immediately, and don't let me hear another
+word about it. It's of no use to tease."</p>
+
+<p>Jode knew that, perfectly. In all the ten
+years of his varied experiences, it never had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+been of any use. Now, although the feet that
+slipped back into the red stockings and stout
+shoes were very loath to go, they went slowly
+but surely in.</p>
+
+<p>"Wish't I was an Indian," he said, as he
+went through the orchard, balancing his geography
+on his head and swinging his lunch-basket,
+while the dog frisked around him. He
+had a queer way of talking to himself. "I
+could stay out-doors all the time then, and never
+have to go to school. Indians have a better
+time than anybody, 'thout it's dogs. O Penny,
+ain't you glad you're a dog?"</p>
+
+<p>The first bell was just beginning to ring
+when he went through the gate at the end of
+the lane, so he had plenty of time to stop when
+he reached Squire Hooper's barn, and look at
+the flaming show-bills with which it was covered.</p>
+
+<p>Johnny Harris was there ahead of him, and
+he noticed, with a pang of envy, that his feet
+were bare, and that his stubby toes were digging
+up the soft earth, as he stood looking at
+the pictures.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I'm</i> goin' to the show," announced Jode,
+proudly. "Our hired man said he'd take me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+if I'd pay. Pa always pays me every spring
+for dropping corn, so I'll have more than
+enough."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny did not say anything, for his father
+was the drunken shoemaker of the little settlement,
+and the cross-road tavern took all their
+spare pennies. He stood and looked with longing
+eyes at the pictures of the animals. He
+knew what a stir there would be circus-day.
+How the wagons would begin to rattle along
+the roads at daylight from all directions; and
+how the band would play in town; and the
+frightened country horses would prance, and
+the crowds of people would block the streets
+to see the long, gay procession. But it would
+be six miles away, and he would miss it all.</p>
+
+<p>While they looked at the side-show pictures,&mdash;the
+fat woman and the two-headed
+man and the African giant,&mdash;the second bell
+began to ring and away they raced to the
+schoolhouse. In his haste Jode left his geography
+on the gate-post by Squire Hooper's
+barn, and never thought of it again until after
+the noon-hour, when they came tramping in
+from the playground.</p>
+
+<p>"You are very careless, Joseph," said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+teacher. "Sit with Harris to study, and don't
+let it happen again, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The boys put their heads together behind the
+map of the New England States, and began
+studying their boundaries.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's begin with the littlest," whispered
+Jode. "And don't you talk to me, old fellow;
+I don't want to be kept in again after school.
+Rhode Island is bounded on the north by Massachusetts,
+on the east by&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, say," interrupted Johnny, "I've got
+some field-mice in a box at home. I was going
+to bring them to-day, but was afraid the
+teacher would take 'em away. They're the
+cunningest little things! Come over after
+school and I'll show 'em to you."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," whispered Jode, with one eye
+on the teacher. "On the north by Massachusetts,
+on the east by Massachusetts and Atlantic
+Ocean, on the south by&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh gracious! look there!" interrupted
+Johnny again. "Look at Boney Woods!
+What's he a-doin'?"</p>
+
+<p>Boney had his book propped up in front of
+him. His head was bowed studiously over
+his lesson, but his lesson was farthest from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+his thoughts. He had cut a piece of leather
+from the top of his boot-leg, and was making
+a pair of spectacles.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never mind him. Come on, and let's
+learn this. I've got through half the day all
+right, and don't want to spoil it all now.
+Rhode Island is bounded on the north by
+Massachusetts, on the east by Massachusetts
+and Atlantic Ocean, on the south by Atlantic&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Jode," interrupted his seat-mate, "I
+can pick up three marbles at a time with my
+toes."</p>
+
+<p>"So could I," answered Jode, "if I didn't
+have my shoes on."</p>
+
+<p>"Bet you couldn't!"</p>
+
+<p>"Bet I could!"</p>
+
+<p>"Take 'em off and try," coaxed Johnny.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll just show you," retorted Jode.</p>
+
+<p>There was a class in algebra at the board,
+and the teacher was very busy explaining some
+problem. "Let <i>x</i> equal the length of the fish,"
+he was saying. Jode raised his foot carefully
+and began to untie his shoe.</p>
+
+<p>"And let <i>y</i> equal the length of its tail,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+continued the teacher, completely absorbed in
+the problem.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment the shoe slipped off noiselessly,
+and Johnny put three of his largest marbles in
+a row on a crack in the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, that ain't fair," said Jode. "You
+can't pick up that big Pompey yourself. Put
+down three little grays."</p>
+
+<p>Johnny grumbled, but made the change, and
+Jode triumphantly picked them up with his
+toes.</p>
+
+<p>"There," said he. "What did I tell you?"
+Just then one of the marbles began to slip. He
+tried to regain his hold, and all three of them
+dropped noisily, and went rolling across the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>The teacher turned quickly, and his eyes
+fell, not on Johnny and Jode, but on Boney
+Woods, who had finished the spectacles and
+put them on, and was now lolling out his
+tongue, and making hideous faces at the
+smaller children.</p>
+
+<p>So intent was he on this, that he did not
+know he was being watched, until the awful
+stillness that had settled over the noisy room
+warned him that something was the matter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
+Then he faced around in his seat in great haste,
+to make the discovery that he was the centre
+of attraction.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you quite through with your little
+exhibition, Bonaparte?" asked the teacher.
+"Come here! Just as you are&mdash;don't take
+them off."</p>
+
+<p>Poor Boney went up with fear and trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll settle with you after school, sir. Take
+a seat on the platform and study your lesson."</p>
+
+<p>Boney stumbled to his place, and sat looking
+at his book, with hot, briny tears stealing down
+under the huge spectacles. From past experiences
+he had learned too well what that meant.
+The school settled down into almost breathless
+silence, and the guilty couple began to study
+violently.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't get my shoe laced up without his
+seeing me," whispered Jode, presently.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, leave it off," begged Johnny, "and
+slip the other one off, too. It feels awful good
+to get rid of shoes." He stretched out his ten
+little brown toes, and surveyed them with a
+satisfied air. "See them feet?" he asked.
+"Them old feet don't care for nothing but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+glass. They can stand rocks or anything.
+Why, in summer, I can tramp down the thorniest
+kind of bushes, blackberryin', and never
+mind the briars a bit."</p>
+
+<p>"Aw, I wouldn't be such a brag," responded
+Jode. Nevertheless, he silenced the inward
+voice that reminded him of his mother's command,
+and followed his little friend's example.</p>
+
+<p>It was soon time for the afternoon recess,
+and they all went trooping out into the warm
+sunshine, all but Boney, doomed to solitude
+and the leather spectacles.</p>
+
+<p>Half a dozen boys crossed the playground,
+and went to the blacksmith shop on the other
+side of the road. Jode followed slowly, for the
+sticks and stones hurt his bare feet, and his
+conscience hurt him more, as he remembered
+his mother's parting instructions.</p>
+
+<p>As usual the good-natured blacksmith was
+busy at his anvil, and paid no attention to the
+crowd of boys making themselves at home in
+his smithy. A seedy-looking stranger on a
+mule rode up to the door to have a loose shoe
+fastened in place.</p>
+
+<p>"Be keerful, young 'uns," he drawled, "this
+'ere mewel's heels is loaded."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The boys shoved back a little to give the newcomer
+more room, and then kept on shoving
+each other in play. The end boy fell against
+Johnny, and Johnny fell against Jode, and
+Jode took another step backward. This time
+his little bare foot came down on the piece of
+hot iron that the blacksmith had thrown aside
+when he went to wait on his new customer.</p>
+
+<p>Jode never distinctly remembered what happened
+after that, he was so nearly crazed with
+the fierce pain. He knew that the blacksmith
+lifted him in his strong arms, and carried him,
+screaming, to the house. He felt some woman
+bandage his foot with something cool and
+soothing, and wash his hot, flushed face. Then
+two of the big boys carried him home, and laid
+him on the sitting-room lounge, and went off,
+forgetting to close the door.</p>
+
+<p>He sat up and called his mother. No one
+answered. Everything was so still about the
+house that his own voice sounded strange when
+he called. Then he remembered that she had
+gone to a quilting that afternoon, and that
+Aunt Jane had built a fire away down by the
+ash-hopper and was making soap. So it was
+useless to call.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Three or four chickens, seeing the door open,
+seized that opportunity to venture in, and
+walked around pecking at the carpet, and looking
+inquiringly at the disconsolate figure on
+the lounge.</p>
+
+<p>"Shoo!" he cried, savagely, "you tormentin'
+old things!" Then he hopped across
+the room and banged the door after them, and
+hopped back.</p>
+
+<p>The throbbing pain in his foot, and the
+deserted appearance of the house, brought the
+tears to his eyes. Then he remembered the
+show, and that his foot would not be well
+enough for him to earn the money dropping
+corn. He would have to miss it. Throwing
+himself on the lounge again, he cried softly to
+himself with great sobs that nearly choked
+him.</p>
+
+<p>When his mother came home, she found
+him fast asleep with cheeks and lashes wet, and
+sobbing at intervals in his sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Jane undertook to lecture him next day
+about his disobedience and what it led to, but
+he began to cry again, and she relented.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Joseph," she said, looking over her
+square-bowed spectacles, "I guess you've had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+a hard lesson, and one you won't forget in a
+hurry. As long as your heart's set on goin'
+to that show, if you'll learn to sew carpet-rags
+I'll pay you by the pound, and you can earn
+the money that way."</p>
+
+<p>So Jode went patiently to work with thread
+and needle, and all those long April days sat in
+the house with his foot on a pillow, and sewed
+yards and yards of carpet-rags.</p>
+
+<p>The pounds grew slowly, but the day came
+at last when he rolled his balls into the sack
+with Aunt Jane's, and two new silver dimes and
+a nickel jingled in his pockets.</p>
+
+<p>Johnny Harris came every day to ask about
+the foot, and see the size of the balls. He
+looked enviously at the shining coins when
+Jode proudly displayed them.</p>
+
+<p>"Gracious! Ain't she pretty?" he exclaimed,
+spinning one of the dimes around
+on the table. Then he balanced it on his
+thumb-nail, and tried its edge with his teeth,
+and finally put it in his mouth, while he watched
+Aunt Jane get out the steelyards, to weigh the
+warp for the new carpet.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he turned to Jode with a white,
+scared face. "Oh, I've done swallered it!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You mean old thing," cried Jode. "I
+worked days and days to earn that dime. O
+Johnny! what <i>did</i> you do it for?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't mean to," protested Johnny,
+eagerly. "It just slipped down as easy&mdash;this
+way." Suiting the action to the word, he
+took up the other dime, and popped it into
+his mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"I was rolling it 'round with my tongue this
+way, and I sort o' choked, and it just slipped&mdash;ker-che-ew!"</p>
+
+<p>Unlucky Johnny! This dime slipped also,
+for a mighty sneeze seized him, and sent the
+money rolling across the floor. Both boys
+darted after it with outstretched hands, but it
+bounced through the open door, and slipped out
+of sight behind the old stone steps. It was
+useless to attempt to move them. The toys
+of half a century had found a hiding-place in
+that crack, and Aunt Jane herself had, years
+ago, seen it swallow up the cherished treasure
+of her childish affection&mdash;a string of amber
+beads.</p>
+
+<p>Johnny stood in open-mouthed horror at
+what he had done, while Jode's gaze wandered
+from the steps to Johnny, as if he saw the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+whole menagerie, animals, tent and all, disappearing
+down that gaping crack and the little
+red throat. It was more than he could bear.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all <i>your</i> fault, Johnny Harris; if it
+hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have burnt
+my foot in the first place. I just can't bear
+to do it all over again, and besides, there isn't
+time anyway."</p>
+
+<p>He lifted his hand angrily, and slapped
+Johnny's fat, freckled face. Then both the
+boys began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Jane disappeared in the closet for something,
+and stood there a moment, shaking with
+inaudible laughter, till the square-bowed spectacles
+slid down her nose. She looked very
+stern, though, when she came out and said,
+"There! there! boys, that's enough. It's no
+use to cry over spilled milk or swallowed
+money, either."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please, ma'am, Miss Jane," begged
+Johnny, "won't you teach me to sew carpet-rags?
+I'll pay him back sure if you'll let me."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Jane looked at the clumsy little hands,
+brown, dirty, and covered with warts, and
+shook her head. It seemed a hopeless task.
+But the earnest look on the face and in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+anxious eyes made her relent, and she gave a
+reluctant promise.</p>
+
+<p>The rag-sewing commenced again. This
+time two boys sat on the door-step, longing to
+be out in the spring wind and sunshine, and
+one nursed his lame foot, and one wrestled
+manfully with thread that would snarl, and
+needles that would stick into his clumsy fingers.</p>
+
+<p>As they sewed they talked, and the subject
+that came up oftenest was the circus. How
+Johnny longed to go! After awhile a hope
+whispered to him, that maybe he could pay his
+debt to Jode in time to earn enough money to
+go himself.</p>
+
+<p>Although Aunt Jane sorted the rags so that
+most of the short ones fell to her lot, and the
+long ones to Johnny's, and contributed many a
+yard on the sly, Jode's foot was well before
+Johnny proudly paid over the two dimes, and
+only a long, red scar remained, to remind Jode
+of his disobedience and punishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Wisht I was goin', too," sighed Johnny,
+when the last pound was weighed and delivered.</p>
+
+<p>Then, regardless of ceremony, he pulled his
+hat over his eyes, and started home on the run.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+He did not go all the way. Aunt Jane spied
+him when she went to the barn for eggs. He
+was lying on the hay with his face in his
+arms.</p>
+
+<p>She stood and looked at him a moment,
+thinking what an honest little heart it was,
+beating under the patched, faded jacket,&mdash;thinking
+of his drunken father and his miserable
+home,&mdash;of how much he wanted to go
+with the other boys, and how keenly he felt
+his poverty.</p>
+
+<p>Then she took the eggs to the house, and
+tying her sunbonnet tighter, started resolutely
+down the lane to the big road in the direction
+of Johnny's home. The hand under her gingham
+apron gripped firmly an old leather purse.</p>
+
+<p>That evening as Jode sat in the twilight,
+just inside the door, listening to the frogs
+croaking in the meadow-pond, a dusky little
+figure came running down the path. It was
+Johnny.</p>
+
+<p>"Hi! Jode," he cried, "I'm a-goin', too!
+I'm a-goin', too! I'm too glad to hold still.
+The money jest rained down like the manna on
+ole Moses! I don't know who left it, but it
+was left at our house, and it was left fer me!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then, throwing himself on the ground, he
+turned one somersault after another down the
+path into the dewy darkness of the warm April
+night.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>JIMMY'S ERRAND</h2>
+
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Well</span>, I declare if Abe isn't the most forgetful
+boy I ever saw!" exclaimed Mrs. Perkins,
+as she emptied the contents of a large
+market-basket upon the kitchen table. "This
+makes the second time he's been to town and
+back this week, and he's forgotten that soda
+both times. Jimmy!" she called out to a
+freckle-faced boy who was making the old dog
+walk around the kitchen floor on its hind feet,
+"climb up to the top pantry shelf and see if
+there's any spice left in those tin boxes."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to make, ma?" languidly
+inquired a pale girl who sat by the
+stove shaking with a chill.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I intended to make a cake for the
+new preacher's donation-party," answered Mrs.
+Perkins. "That's what the committee asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+for&mdash;marble-cake and biscuits. Did you find
+anything, Jimmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No'm. They're all empty." The boy
+jumped down and went back to the patient old
+dog, which he now converted into a wheelbarrow
+and trundled around on its clumsy
+fore paws.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I do!" exclaimed Mrs. Perkins,
+in despair. "There's not a speck of spice
+or soda in the house."</p>
+
+<p>This was before the days of baking-powder,
+and it was eight miles to the nearest town.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you," answered Maria, with her
+teeth chattering. "Let Abe saddle old Blaze
+and go up to Doctor Spinner's. He always
+keeps such things on hand, and we can send
+for some more quinine at the same time."</p>
+
+<p>"And be about as likely to get soap and knitting-needles
+as anything else!" replied her
+mother, with a frown. "It's a pity a boy as
+old as Abe is can't be trusted to remember anything!"</p>
+
+<p>"Let Jimmy go," suggested Maria. "It's
+only three miles, and he can easily get back
+by dinner-time."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Perkins, "I don't know of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+any reason why he shouldn't be trusted with the
+horse, and he can be depended on to do the
+errand a sight better than Abe."</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy's freckled face beamed with delight.
+He had expected to spend the morning hoeing
+in the garden. He had been waiting the last
+half-hour for his father to call him and set him
+at work; but it was not the prospect of escaping
+a disagreeable task or of cantering along
+the road on the old blaze-faced horse that
+pleased him most. It was the fact that his
+mother and Maria regarded him as more trustworthy
+than Abe, and Abe was nearly grown.</p>
+
+<p>He had never before so completely appreciated
+his true worth nor felt such a sense of
+his own importance as when his mother entrusted
+him with the errand, and gave him a
+message for the doctor's wife. Maria's words
+of praise were still in his ears when he ran
+down the path, hitching up a broken suspender
+as he went.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you up to now?" inquired Abe,
+as Jimmy walked into the barn in a lordly way
+and took down the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>"Up to takin' a ride," answered Jimmy, in
+a way that nettled his older brother.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Not on that saddle, you ain't!" retorted
+Abe. "I'm goin' to mill."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll have to ride bareback," was
+the cool reply. "I'm goin' on an errand for
+mother, and, what's more, I'm goin' to have
+the saddle. Can't I, pa?" he asked, as his
+father came in.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Jimmy," answered his father, when
+both boys had stated the case. "Abe is bigger,
+and he's got the farthest to go."</p>
+
+<p>Abe laughed provokingly. "I don't care!"
+muttered Jimmy. "<i>You</i> couldn't be trusted
+to do the errand. Mother said so. So you
+needn't laugh."</p>
+
+<p>Abe's face flushed. He knew his failing, and
+did not like to be reminded of it.</p>
+
+<p>"You can take Maria's side-saddle!" called
+Mr. Perkins, as he went on out to the corn-crib.</p>
+
+<p>"Better not," remarked Abe. "It's brand-new,
+and she'd feel awful bad if anything
+should happen to it. It might get spoiled."</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy did not want to take it, and had not
+intended to do so, but the spirit of contrariness
+seemed to have possession of him. That remark
+settled the matter. "You might spoil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+it," he said, "but I guess Maria'll trust me to
+bring it home safe, if I am ever so much smaller
+than you!"</p>
+
+<p>Presently, seated astride the new side-saddle,
+Jimmy rode up to the kitchen door.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't care if I take it, do you?" he
+called to Maria. She wrapped herself more
+closely in the heavy shawl, and came out into
+the warm sunshine, her teeth still chattering.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I guess not," she said, putting out her
+shaking hand to feel the soft plush of the cushioned
+seat. "Isn't that a pretty shade of red?
+It's the handsomest one in the township. Oh,
+don't forget, Jimmy; mother said to ask Doctor
+Spinner to put up another bottle of tonic
+like that he gave me last spring."</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" said Jimmy, impatient to be
+off.</p>
+
+<p>Digging his heels in old Blaze's sides, he
+started down the road on a gallop. This was
+too lively a gait for the old horse to sustain
+long, and she soon settled down to a steady
+walk.</p>
+
+<p>For the first half-mile Jimmy sat very erect,
+with a growing sense of his own importance
+and superiority over his brother Abe. Then he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+yielded to the gracious influence of the sweet
+spring morning, and, throwing one foot over
+the pommel of the saddle, began to whistle in
+answer to a redbird's call.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he tired of riding sidewise, and
+by the time he reached the field where the
+Fishback boys were dropping corn he was up
+on his knees. Inspired by spectators, he urged
+his horse to go faster and faster, and scrambling
+to his feet as he came up with them,
+passed them with a cheer. They stopped their
+work long enough to look after him and wave
+their hats until he disappeared around a bend
+in the road.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a mighty nice thing," he thought, complacently,
+"to be able to ride around the country
+this way, when everybody else has to work."</p>
+
+<p>By this time he had reached the bridge across
+Pigeon Creek. It was shallow enough to ford
+at this place, and he concluded to try it. Clattering
+down the bank, he rode into the water
+with a splash. Overhead the great branches
+of the sycamore-trees leaned across the stream
+and met each other. It was cool and shady, and
+so still that the only sound he could hear was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+the gurgling noise old Blaze made as she bent
+her head to drink.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a shrill whistle made him start so
+violently that he almost lost his balance, and
+clutched at the loosened bridle to save himself
+from falling. Looking in the direction of the
+whistle, he saw two big bare feet dangling from
+a sycamore limb that hung half-way across the
+stream. Glancing up, he saw the owner of the
+feet. It was Coon Mills, the laziest, most
+"trifling" fellow in that part of the country&mdash;so
+everybody said.</p>
+
+<p>There was no need to ask him what he was
+doing, when the white blossoms of the dog-wood-trees
+had been proclaiming for a week,
+from every hill and hollow, that the fishing
+season had begun. His luck as a fisherman was
+as proverbial as his laziness.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you got?" called Jimmy. For
+answer Coon held up a string of catfish, so
+large that Jimmy gave a long whistle.</p>
+
+<p>"I've jes' been a-pullin' 'em out as fast as
+I could throw in my line," he said. "Thar
+hain't been nothin' like it sence ole Noah's
+time."</p>
+
+<p>"My! You must be a-seein' fun," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+Jimmy, watching him enviously as he baited
+his hook and tossed it into the water.
+"Wouldn't I like to try it, though!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, if yer want ter," answered Coon.
+"Thar's another line in my basket, and you
+kin cut a pole from the sprouts agin that stump
+down yender."</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to be a-goin'. I've got an errand
+to do," answered Jimmy. "But I would like
+to haul in just one."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come on!" insisted Coon. "You can
+spare ten minutes, can't you?"</p>
+
+<p>There was an attractiveness about this overgrown,
+good-natured fellow that all the smaller
+boys found irresistible. Jimmy could have
+said "no" to any of his younger companions,
+but he was flattered by Coon's notice, and an
+invitation from him was a temptation beyond
+his strength to resist.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later old Blaze was tied to a
+sapling. Another pair of feet dangled from the
+sycamore limb, another line dipped into the
+water, and unbroken silence reigned again along
+the shady river.</p>
+
+<p>A quarter of an hour passed, but Jimmy,
+with his eyes intent on the bobbing cork, took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+no notice of the flight of time. Then a thrill
+went through him as he felt a pull on his line,
+and in his excitement he almost fell off his
+perch into the water.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the biggest fish of the season!" Coon
+declared, as he helped haul it in. "You're in
+luck, Jim; you'd better try it agin."</p>
+
+<p>Old Blaze gnawed the bark off the sapling as
+far as she could reach, and then stamped and
+whinnied in vain. Still Jimmy sat on the
+sycamore limb, confident of success after his
+first great triumph, and unable to tear himself
+away without one more trophy.</p>
+
+<p>Coon drew up his line at intervals, and each
+time Jimmy's determination to catch one more
+increased. The minutes slipped by, but he did
+not notice them, nor did he realize that the sun
+was nearly overhead.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, the unmistakable notes of a dinner-horn
+echoed through the woods. Startled
+into the consciousness that he had idled away
+the whole morning, Jimmy started for the bank
+in such haste that his feet slipped on the smooth
+bark, and he fell across the limb. He scrambled
+desperately around, and managed to draw
+himself up again, but in doing so lost his hold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+on the fish. He saw it go tumbling into the
+water.</p>
+
+<p>A hearty laugh from Coon followed him
+down the bank and along the road, as he galloped
+furiously away.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Spinner thought somebody must be
+dying or dead when she saw Jimmy come dashing
+up to the house in such haste, and hurried
+out to ask the news.</p>
+
+<p>"The doctor's just gone," she said, after he
+had told his errand, and delivered his mother's
+message. "He had a call down to old Mr.
+Wakeley's, and left in the middle of his dinner.
+Law me, it's too bad! You'd better wait,
+though. He'll likely not be gone very long.
+Come in and have something to eat, won't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy's inclination was to refuse, but his
+hunger overcame his bashfulness, and he followed
+Mrs. Spinner into the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>She had already eaten her dinner, and kept
+on with her work, pausing often, in her busy
+going back and forth, to give him some dish,
+or hospitably urge him to help himself.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better go into the office to wait,"
+she said, as he pushed his chair back from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+table. "The doctor'll surely be along pretty
+soon."</p>
+
+<p>The little room, standing by itself in the
+front yard, did double duty as office and drug-store.
+Jimmy sat down on the bench beside
+the door, and studied the odd assortment of
+bottles on the opposite shelves. He counted
+them and read all the labels. Then he saw a
+case of dentist's instruments lying on the table.
+He examined these curiously, fitting the forceps
+on each of his teeth, and then looked around for
+other sources of amusement.</p>
+
+<p>Several books with leather bindings lay on
+the desk, and he sat down to look at them.
+Books were few in the Perkins household, and
+the first one he opened proved very entertaining.
+It was an illustrated work on anatomy,
+and he was soon completely absorbed in the
+interesting pictures of bones and muscles.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon was sultry and still. A few
+flies buzzed on the window-pane. Just outside
+the door an old hen clucked and scratched for
+her downy yellow brood. Jimmy could look out
+and see some one ploughing in a distant field,
+and hear a lusty voice at intervals, calling,
+"Gee! Haw! W'-o-a!" to the yoke of oxen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>After a long while, when sitting so still had
+made him drowsy, he went to the door and
+looked up and down the road. No one was in
+sight. Even the sun had gone behind a cloud.
+He began to grow uneasy, as he thought of his
+mother waiting impatiently for the soda to
+begin her baking.</p>
+
+<p>"If the doctor isn't here by the time I finish
+looking at the books," he said to himself, "I'll
+go anyway, without waiting for Maria's medicine."</p>
+
+<p>He went back to his chair and turned to the
+pictures again. Presently he began to yawn.
+Then his eyelids drooped, and his head nodded
+so low that it rested on the open book upon
+the table. He knew nothing more until he felt
+Mrs. Spinner shaking him by the shoulder. He
+started up to find the little office nearly dark.</p>
+
+<p>"I plumb forgot all about you," Mrs. Spinner
+said, "until the doctor sent word he
+couldn't come home to-night. Old Mr. Wakeley's
+a-dying. You'd better hurry away, for
+there's a heavy thunder-storm coming up."</p>
+
+<p>She weighed out the soda and spices, wrapping
+each package separately, and then tied
+them together in one bundle. It was about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+middle of the afternoon when Jimmy had gone
+to sleep. Now the sun had set. The sky was
+black with clouds, and as he hurriedly mounted
+his horse and tied the bundle to the horn of
+the saddle he heard a distant rumble of thunder.
+Old Blaze was as anxious to get home as her
+rider, and needed little urging to make her
+travel her fastest.</p>
+
+<p>They were going directly toward the storm.
+By the time they had travelled a mile and a
+half its full force was upon them. The wind
+blew furiously and whirled the dust along the
+road in blinding columns. It twisted and tossed
+the tall trees as easily as if they had been
+bushes. Great limbs swayed wildly, and now
+and then one crashed to the ground. Once,
+when she was a colt, old Blaze had been hit
+by a falling branch in a thunder-storm, and
+had never forgotten the terror of it. Now, as
+a vivid glare of lightning blinded her, she
+reared, plunged forward, and then stood trembling,
+with dilated eyes and quivering nostrils.</p>
+
+<p>They were in the midst of a thick wood.
+No amount of urging would induce the mare
+to go on, and Jimmy got down to lead her.
+Something of the horse's fear seemed to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+communicated to the boy. He was naturally
+brave, but the ferocious power of the storm
+awed him into utter fear.</p>
+
+<p>The rain poured harder and harder. Jimmy
+was wet to the skin, and the water ran down
+in streams from his hat brim. He pushed
+ahead for a long time, wondering why he did
+not come to the creek. Instead of reaching
+open country, he seemed to be getting deeper
+into the woods. Then he remembered that
+two bridle-paths led into the main road&mdash;one
+directly into it, the other around the base of
+the hill. He had taken the wrong path and
+was travelling in a circle.</p>
+
+<p>By the time he reached his starting-point
+again the storm had abated. The wind did not
+blow so hard, and the thunder had gone growling
+away toward the eastern hills. He led the
+horse up to a stump, climbed into the saddle,
+and this time started on the right path homeward.</p>
+
+<p>As he rode down the lane a lantern glimmered
+in the dooryard and moved toward the
+barn. "Well, you <i>air</i> a purty fellow!" called
+Abe's voice. "Mother's mighty nigh wild<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+about you. She jest now sent me down to git
+a horse to go out and hunt you."</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy slid from the saddle without saying
+anything. When Abe saw how pale and wet
+he was, he added, in a kinder tone, "I'll put
+the horse up. You take your things and strike
+for the house."</p>
+
+<p>He lifted the lantern in order to see to untie
+the package, and then gave an exclamation of
+astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I wisht you'd look! The rain has
+melted every bit of that soda. There's nothin'
+left but the bag. And the spice is all sp'iled,
+too. My gracious!" he added, after another
+look, "it's run down all over the saddle, and
+taken the colour out. My! Won't Maria be
+mad? It's eternally ruined! Well, I must
+say I like your way of doin' errands!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a very penitent, humble boy who crept
+into the kitchen and gave a shamefaced account
+of the day's doings. Maria, who had sat with
+her face hidden in her apron during the storm,
+shuddering at the thought that he might be
+out in it alone, ran to get him some dry clothes,
+without a word of reproach about the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll save enough out of the garden truck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+to get it re-cushioned," he promised. "Sure
+I will, Maria."</p>
+
+<p>But Maria gave him a little squeeze. "Don't
+you worry about that, Jimmy," she said, "so
+long as you got home safe. It don't make so
+much difference about the soda, either, for we
+got word this afternoon that the donation-party
+has been put off."</p>
+
+<p>His self-respect was restored by such a warm
+reception, and his spirits rose until he began
+to think he was something of a hero, after all.
+As he ate the supper his mother had been keeping
+hot for him, she and Maria listened sympathetically
+to his account of the storm.</p>
+
+<p>Abe, who had come in from the barn and
+was drying his boots by the fire, said nothing,
+but his quizzical smile was more provoking than
+words. It reminded Jimmy of the boastful
+speech he had made that morning.</p>
+
+<p>He grew red in the face, stopped talking, and
+soon made an excuse to slip away to bed. As
+he lay listening to the rain on the roof, he said
+to himself, "I wisht I hadn't bragged so about
+doin' errands better than Abe! He'll never be
+done a-hinting to me about soda and side-saddles!"</p>
+<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<h2>WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY<br />
+AT HARDYVILLE</h2>
+
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Blame</span> that pig-headed Schmidt!"</p>
+
+<p>Squire Hardy was in the sitting-room talking
+to his wife. "To think of his kickin' just
+because the little schoolma'am is bound to celebrate
+the day! Her askin' for nothing except
+leave to use the schoolhouse! Confound him!
+The rest of the Germans'd be patriotic enough&mdash;they
+are all 'round these parts&mdash;if Schmidt
+wa'n't so everlastingly down on us, and used
+his influence with the rest!"</p>
+
+<p>"He's a well-meaning, peaceable neighbour,
+Hiram," said the squire's wife, placidly.</p>
+
+<p>"So's horses and cows. Gimme folks that's
+got some public spirit in 'em. Think of the men
+that took up the land all round these parts when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+we come in&mdash;all full of Fourth of July. I
+wisht they hadn't been so keen to sell out at a
+profit&mdash;that's the worst of us Americans.
+When they sold out, of course the Germans
+come in,&mdash;couldn't blame 'em a mite,&mdash;an'
+Schmidt he come fust, an' he bejuggled all the
+rest. An' he's pretty nigh bejuggled the
+Gateses and two or three other American families
+like 'em, that's gettin' more like Schmidt
+year by year. Why, there ain't been a mite of
+public improvement done this ten year back."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, now, Hiram, we've got the post-office."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;much thanks to the rest of 'em! It
+was me worked and kicked and badgered till
+I got them a tri-weekly mail, and much use
+they make of it!"</p>
+
+<p>The squire gazed at the post-office as he
+spoke. It consisted of an ash "seketary" in
+one corner of the sitting-room, and was much
+more than commodious enough for the few
+letters and newspapers that came to Hardyville
+three times a week, brought from the
+county town, eight miles away, by a carrier
+with a gig. The squire was delivering his
+opinions as usual while waiting for the carrier
+to appear.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't rec'lect much public improvements
+ever bein' in Hardyville," said Mrs. Hardy,
+drily.</p>
+
+<p>"There would 'a' been," said her husband,
+testily. "There would 'a' been if the Americans
+had kept on. To think of them beginning
+to sell out and move furder west&mdash;just
+as they were gettin' their land into shape for
+havin' some time to themselves to improve
+things! Thank goodness, they <i>did</i> put up the
+church and schoolhouse&mdash;I guess we'd never
+have had neither if it wasn't for the American
+spirit here when this settlement begun."</p>
+
+<p>"Sho, Hiram? You can't say but what the
+German folks keeps the church and schoolhouse
+going."</p>
+
+<p>"Going&mdash;yes, going to rack and ruin all the
+same! Schoolhouse leakin' like sixty&mdash;and
+catch 'em taxin' themselves for a new roof! I
+wonder Miss Atworth can stay in the place&mdash;her
+and the children mirin' shoe-mouth deep in
+mud to get to school in the winter! Nary a rod
+of corduroy will they lay to give their own
+young ones a decent walk. But they keep their
+cattle comfortable enough&mdash;that means money
+in their pockets. All they care about is having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+their corn and stock turn out well. They don't
+care if the hull township, and the hull Union,
+too, for that matter, was to go to the dogs.
+Hello! here comes Jack with the mail-bag!"</p>
+
+<p>A little while later Squire Hardy was in the
+act of distributing the bag's small contents,
+when two farmers walked in without even
+stopping to stamp the mud off their cowhide
+boots. Mrs. Hardy kept on placidly knitting
+beyond the fireplace; she was used to such invasions
+of the sitting-room, from which she
+had removed the carpet soon after the post-office
+was granted to the sleepy settlement.</p>
+
+<p>"Draw up to the fire, Mr. Gates," she said,
+hospitably. "Take that rocker, Mr. Schmidt."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gates kicked his feet against the andirons
+to rid them of clay and snow.</p>
+
+<p>"Cold day," he remarked, settling his coon-skin
+cap more firmly on his head. "What's
+this I hear about the new teacher?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what?" snapped the squire, looking
+around.</p>
+
+<p>"Some say she's dead sot on gettin' up
+them doin's on Washington's Birthday."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a id="Page_93"></a>
+<img src="images/i003.png" width="500" height="286" alt="man standing by fireplace" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;MR. GATES KICKED HIS FEET AGAINST THE ANDIRONS&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Well, s'pose she is?" said the squire. "She
+ain't askin' nothin' but the schoolhouse for an
+evening, and I've got power to let her have
+that. I'm school agent, ain't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't say the contrary. But to my way
+of thinkin', she's just a-wastin' time over a
+lot of foolishness. Hey, Schmidt?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yah, das ist so!" assented the man in the
+rocking-chair, as he took his pipe from his
+mouth. "I tolt mein poy I shust dook him
+oudt of school and put him to voork ven I hear
+some more of dose grazy idees."</p>
+
+<p>"Crazy? Nothing crazy about it!" interrupted
+the old squire, hotly. "I'll just tell
+you, gentlemen, it was a mighty good deed old
+Abel Dawson quit teaching here. He'd run
+along in the same old rut for the last ten year,
+till things had just about dried up. I made
+a visit to 'em last fall. I put some questions
+to the scholars, too. There wa'n't but four
+out of the hull of 'em that was exactly sure
+who the President of these United States was.
+Nary one could name the Vice-President!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dey lairn goot vot vos in de book," said
+Schmidt.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" roared the squire. "Abel stood
+over them with a rod, and frightened the spelling-book
+into 'em till they could say it off,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a><br /><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+back'ards or forrards. But they was like a lot
+of skeered parrots that didn't understand what
+they <i>was</i> saying."</p>
+
+<p>"Dot vos more goot as learn 'em yoost
+foolishness&mdash;badriodism und der flag und all
+dot plab 'bout der country und der Union."</p>
+
+<p>"Look out, now, Schmidt! I ain't goin' to
+set still and hear you calling patriotism 'blab.'
+I tell you in only nine weeks Miss Atworth's
+got the poor little souls waked up. They never
+knew before that they <i>had</i> a country. History
+and geography mean something to them now.
+She'll make intelligent citizens out of 'em if
+you'll keep your hands off. I'm out in my guess
+if she don't give this whole township a shakin'
+up before this thing is over, and teach 'em some
+public sperit."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gates gave a sniff. "They say she's
+had a piano hauled out from the city, too," he
+said. "Hope she don't intend to levy on the
+parents to pay for it. She'll get nothing out of
+me. I'll tell her that right now."</p>
+
+<p>"Shucks!" cried the squire, as he handed
+Schmidt his <i>Zeitung</i>. "Neither of <i>you</i> needn't
+worry. She's too smart to expect to get blood
+out of turnips."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Vell, all I haf to say," was Schmidt's parting
+remark, as he wound his blue woollen
+muffler about his neck, "if she keeps on mit
+dose voolishness, I dake mein Karl oudt of
+school, right avay alretty. Dot vos better dot
+he voork as to vaste his time so."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little Miss Atworth!" sighed Mrs.
+Hardy, as she watched the two men tramp off
+together. "I'm powerful glad she's boarding
+with us. The whole neighbourhood is down on
+her new-fangled ways. I'm going right out
+now and make something extry nice and hot
+for supper. It's pretty near sundown, and she'll
+come in soon all wore out with her day's work."</p>
+
+<p>The little teacher did need the good cheer and
+"extry nice" supper that awaited her in the
+cosy kitchen, for she had felt much discouraged
+as she trudged homeward through the falling
+snow. Her pupils had nearly all been telling
+her the same thing that day. It was that their
+parents scouted the idea of helping her to celebrate
+Washington's Birthday.</p>
+
+<p>She had come from a distant town to teach
+the Hardyville school in hope to lay up enough
+money to complete her art course; but now it
+seemed to her that something more important<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+than art demanded her services and the small
+sum she had saved. The dull, colourless lives
+of the children appealed irresistibly to her
+sympathies, and she was often amazed at the
+utter absence of any spirit of patriotism.</p>
+
+<p>"How could the poor children learn patriotism?"
+said Mrs. Hardy. "Their parents don't
+feel it, except for their Vaterland. And certainly
+nothing has been done by the public
+round here to make the children love this country.
+Such lives! The parents get up before
+daylight, and dig till dark. They usually force
+the boys and girls to live like overworked
+horses. All they think of is making money.
+That big room up-stairs in the schoolhouse was
+built for a public hall. It has not been opened
+for fifteen years for any kind of an entertainment,
+not even a magic lantern show. It is
+the same old treadmill existence year in and
+year out. The children don't get their lives
+brightened&mdash;no public holidays are celebrated
+here, not even the Fourth of July. How can
+they love the country?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall certainly give them something better,"
+Miss Atworth had said, and the upshot
+was her determination to celebrate Washington's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+Birthday. The indifference or hostility
+of the parents had but roused her American
+spirit, even to the resolve that she would bear
+the entire expense herself, if none would contribute
+from their plenty.</p>
+
+<p>"Ten dollars," she reflected, "will buy decorations
+and material for costumes and stage
+curtains. Another ten will rent a piano. Most
+of the children have never even seen one. All
+my spare time must go to getting up the
+entertainment, and all my savings, too. Well,
+I'm glad&mdash;I guess I can give up so much
+for my country. It will be worth while if
+I can make its 'Father's' birthday the greatest
+gala day these poor little souls have ever
+known."</p>
+
+<p>Not a particle of encouragement did she get
+from any of the parents except Peter Dowling,
+a one-armed veteran of the Civil War, and he
+was much more discouraging than he meant
+to be.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, I wish you luck, young lady," he
+would observe. "You can count on me for anything
+a one-armed man can do. But what's
+the use? I've tried and tried to get some
+'Merican sentiment into these youngsters.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+'Tain't no go&mdash;and never will be. But you
+can count on me to hooray for you all the same.
+I'll be thar if nobody else is."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe you tried to scold them into patriotism,
+as the squire does," said the little teacher.
+"I don't think that's the best way."</p>
+
+<p>"It didn't work, anyhow," said the veteran,
+and walked away.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Atworth's programme, besides the decoration
+of the schoolhouse, comprised tableaux
+and the recitation of patriotic poems and addresses
+by her larger pupils. But most of the
+children soon received strict orders to hurry
+home at four o'clock, to attend to the milking
+and evening chores. They were also kept at
+work till the last possible minute in the morning.
+But with only noon-time and recess for
+practising their parts, her enthusiasm worked
+wonders.</p>
+
+<p>"It ought to be a grand success," said Miss
+Atworth, as she took a final approving survey
+of the decorations the afternoon of the twenty-first.
+"Only it's a little too warlike. I wish
+I had an old-fashioned pruning-hook to hang
+across that sword between the windows."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Schmidt has one," volunteered Sarah<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+Gates. "But he's so mad about our wasting so
+much time, as he calls it, that it's as much as a
+fellow's head is worth to ask him for it. I
+heard him tell pa he was going to keep Karl
+at home to-morrow night. Isn't that mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Keep Karl at home!" cried Miss Atworth,
+in dismay. "He couldn't be so mean as that!"</p>
+
+<p>Karl was the brightest pupil in her room&mdash;a
+big, manly boy of sixteen. He was kept at
+home every spring and fall to help with the
+work, although his father was not poor. She
+had taken an especial interest in him from the
+first, had drilled him carefully in his declamation,
+and counted on him as the star of the
+entertainment.</p>
+
+<p>"Pa wasn't going to let me come, either,"
+continued Sarah, "till ma told him you'd
+picked me out of all the school to be the Goddess
+of Liberty, and that I was going to have
+a gold crown on, and gold stars spangled over
+my dress. Ma's awful proud because I was
+chosen to be a goddess."</p>
+
+<p>The little teacher smiled. She was not without
+worldly wisdom, and had given Sarah such
+a prominent part in the hope that it might
+conciliate the whole Gates family. Fortunately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+nothing was required of the goddess but long
+hair and a pretty face&mdash;about all Sarah had
+to boast of. She simply could not learn.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Atworth locked the door and started
+rapidly homeward. What should she do if
+Karl must be left out of the performance? A
+quarter of a mile brought her to the lane leading
+from the pike to the Schmidt place, and
+there she stopped with sudden resolve.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll beard that old lion in his den, and ask
+him for his pruning-hook. That will be an
+excuse for going, and will give me an opportunity
+to plead Karl's cause."</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly dark when Miss Atworth ran
+up the squire's front walk, and danced through
+the house into the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, such luck!" she cried, gaily. "I went
+to see Mr. Schmidt, and some good angel
+prompted me to speak to him in German.
+It was such bad German&mdash;perhaps that's
+what pleased him. Anyway it thawed him
+right out. He lent me his pruning-hook,
+and showed me over his big barn. Of
+course I admired his fine cattle, and then, as he
+got more and more pleased at my showing
+such an astonishing lot of sense, I praised Karl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+so highly that he made a complete surrender.
+He is coming to-morrow night to bring the
+whole Schmidt family, from the old <i>grossmutter</i>,
+to the baby. Hurrah for Washington's
+Birthday!"</p>
+
+<p>Never had the old public hall held such an
+astonished and delighted audience as the one
+that crowded into it that memorable night.
+Gay festoons of bunting, countless little flags,
+and wreaths of evergreen transformed the
+dingy old place completely.</p>
+
+<p>A large picture of Washington placidly
+beamed from its place of honour. Over and
+around it, reaching almost across the stage,
+was draped a great silken flag, borrowed for
+the occasion.</p>
+
+<p>Peter Dowling, in his old blue army clothes,
+with one sleeve pinned across his breast, sat
+far back, looking bewildered by the wonders
+the little teacher had accomplished.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Atworth had arranged the programme
+with great tact. Each child felt prominent, and
+those who, she secretly knew, would be failures
+in anything else, were honoured beyond measure
+when she skilfully grouped them into a
+series of effective historical tableaux.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It's enough to make even a graven image
+feel patriotic," whispered Squire Hardy to his
+wife, as the children's sweet voices made the
+room ring with the grand old national airs.</p>
+
+<p>Declamations followed each other in rapid
+succession. Then came a scene, with recitations,
+in which Uncle Sam and all the States
+of the Union took part. The very air seemed
+charged with the little teacher's electrical spirit
+of patriotic enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>It was at its height when Karl came forward
+to give the famous speech of Patrick
+Henry. His delivery was so much better than
+the rehearsals had led her to expect that even
+Miss Atworth was surprised. He seemed to
+find an inspiration in the crowd. A storm of
+applause followed the "Give me liberty or give
+me death."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall we do?" she whispered in dismay
+as the persistent clapping of many hands
+called him back. "I wish you had prepared
+for an encore."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know!" said Karl, and in another
+instant was on the stage again.</p>
+
+<p>In the deep hush that followed, his clear,
+musical voice rose in German. He was reciting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+"<i>Mein Vaterland</i>." Old grandmothers
+who knew but a few words of English rocked
+themselves back and forth in excited delight;
+Mr. Schmidt beamed with vast smiles; many
+an eye grew dim, thinking of the old beloved
+home across the seas. But the boy was thinking
+of his own native country. There was
+no mistaking his meaning, as he turned in
+closing, to wave his hand toward the portrait
+and the flag:</p>
+
+<p>"My Fatherland!" he cried with true feeling,
+and then, after a moment of general surprise,
+deafening applause broke out.</p>
+
+<p>As it subsided Miss Atworth stepped forward
+to announce the last song, but Peter Dowling,
+his face aflame with new delight and old memories,
+rose, stalked up the aisle as if unconscious
+of all the eyes fixed on him, and swung
+himself up on the high platform with one long
+step.</p>
+
+<p>"Friends," he began, "I've been livin' kind
+of dead among ye for many's the year. Now
+I want to say a word or two. I ain't no great
+at speechifyin', but these old songs and pieces
+we've been a-listenin' to have spirited me up
+like the trumpet doos an old war-horse."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As he spoke he waved the stump of his right
+arm so vigorously that the empty sleeve was
+torn from its pinning across his breast and
+flapped pathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to say," he went on, "that I fit for
+that old flag, and yet, livin' here so long, and
+never a celebration for young or old, I'd half
+forgot my patriotism. It's our school-teacher
+has woke me up to seeing the truth. Now that
+we hev beat our swords into pruning-hooks,
+and peace has pitched her tent alongside ours
+to stay, I can't help thinking there's danger in
+settlin' down too comfortable and off gyard
+like.</p>
+
+<p>"This country," he raised his voice higher,
+"ain't teaching its children enough of the
+feelin' of patriotism. It takes the same kind
+of principle to make a good citizen that it doos
+a good soldier. It ought to be the very bone
+and sinew of every school in this whole land.
+I could talk all night on that subject, now I've
+got started. But what I want to say is this:</p>
+
+<p>"I propose that we all get out our pocket-books,
+and throw in to get a handsome flag to
+fly over this schoolhouse. Take an old soldier's
+word for it, there ain't no greater inspiration<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+anywhere, to make a fellow put in his best
+licks, and come out on top. Now, Miss
+Teacher, I'll just get the sense of this meeting."</p>
+
+<p>He paused a moment, then turned to the
+audience: "All who want to express their
+thanks for this evening's entertainment, and
+are willing a collection should be took, say
+aye!"</p>
+
+<p>Such a storm of ayes followed, that Peter
+caught up his slouched hat and began to pass
+it around, with his only arm. Dimes and quarters
+clinked into it, while an occasional dollar
+showed how deeply selfish hearts had been
+stirred by the uplifting influences of the
+hour.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Atworth seated herself at the piano,
+and beckoned to the bewildered Goddess of
+Liberty to lead the States again across the stage.
+Some of the smaller ones straggled sadly out
+of line, but as Karl, at a nod from his teacher,
+caught the great flag from its place and stood
+with it in the midst of them, every voice rang
+out full and true on the chorus:</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">We'll rally once again,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Shouting the battle-cry of freedom!"</span><br />
+</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>People seemed loath to go when it was all
+over. They came up to the teacher with awkward
+expressions of pleasure and appreciation.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll never forget this night," drawled one
+faded, overworked woman, to whose eyes the
+rich colours and tinsel of the stage decorations
+had seemed a part of fairyland. "That music
+was so sweet, and my little Meta looked like
+a picture with her hair curled, and that beautiful
+dress on you made her. I really didn't
+know she was so pretty. I'm going to fix her
+up and get her a lot of nice things after this."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it was worth while," said the little
+teacher, as she dropped into a chair at home,
+too tired to take off her wraps.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed it was," answered the squire. "Jake
+Schneider's new patriotism rose so he said he'd
+put a walk on each side of the school for half
+a mile, even if nobody'd help him. Then a lot
+of 'em began to talk it over. The upshot was
+that old Schmidt is going to give the logs, and
+they're all going to work to-morrow to hew
+them off and stake them down."</p>
+
+<p>The next Monday morning Karl stopped at
+Miss Atworth's desk to say joyfully, "O
+teacher! father was so pleased. He is going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+to hire another hand and let me keep on till the
+end of the term."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I need never regret my sacrifice,"
+thought the happy girl.</p>
+
+<p>That celebration was the beginning of better
+times in Hardyville. When the doors were
+barred for vacation, and the grass grew rank
+on the bare playground, the new flag still
+floated from the schoolhouse belfry.</p>
+
+<p>Many a boy catching sight of the glorious
+flag as he plodded through the furrows behind
+his plough, felt himself lifted beyond the
+bounds of his little horizon, to some great plane
+of endeavour where all great things were possible.
+Still those beckoning folds teach a silent
+lesson of loftier ideals, and a broader humanity
+to people whom the little teacher thrilled with
+her enthusiastic spirit.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>AN OLD
+DAGUERREOTYPE</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Caleb Speed</span> pushed back his chair from the
+dinner-table with anger and disgust in his face.
+The door had just banged behind a big, hearty
+boy of seventeen, whom he could still see
+through the narrow window trudging off
+toward the barn.</p>
+
+<p>The lively whistle that sounded through the
+closed windows seemed to aggravate the man's
+ill-temper. He walked over to the fireplace,
+and kicked the smouldering logs with his heavy
+boot.</p>
+
+<p>"If there's any one thing that riles me all
+over," he exclaimed, angrily, "it's having that
+boy always setting himself up to be in the
+right, and everybody else in the wrong!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, he 'most generally is in the right,"
+answered Caleb's wife, clearing the table. "It's
+remarkable what a memory Jerry has, 'specially
+for dates. At the quilting here last week the
+women folks were trying to settle when 'twas
+old Mis' Lockett died, and Jerry knew to the
+day. He said 'twas two days after Deacon
+Stone's cows were killed by lightning, and that
+happened on the thirteenth of September, just
+a hundred years to the very day after Wolfe
+captured Quebec. You can't trip Jerry up in
+history."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," answered her husband, impatiently,
+"he needn't be so sassy about it. We had a
+dispute over them same cows. I was telling
+the new minister about the storm, and I happened
+to say they was standing under a pine-tree.
+He chipped in, 'Why, no, it wasn't,
+uncle; it was an oak.' 'It was a pine!' says
+I. 'No, it wasn't; it was an oak,' says he.</p>
+
+<p>"Just then Hiram Stone came by, and Jerry
+yelled to know which 'twas. Hiram said,
+'Oak.' Then Jerry grinned as malicious, and
+said, 'I told you so! I knew I was right!'
+If he hadn't been my dead sister's only child<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+and the minister looking on&mdash;" Caleb stopped
+in anger.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Speed made no comment. She was
+fond of her husband's nephew. He had grown
+to be almost like a son in the five years he had
+lived with them. They were not old&mdash;not
+many years older than Jerry; for Caleb's sister
+had been older than he.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Speed only laughed at the patronizing
+manners which he sometimes assumed, to the
+great annoyance of his young uncle. But Caleb
+Speed was too dogmatic himself to tolerate
+such a spirit in any one else.</p>
+
+<p>"He sha'n't sit up and contradict me at my
+own table!" Caleb declared. "I'll thrash him
+first! He's got to show me proper respect.
+He needn't think because I've given him advantages
+that I couldn't have myself, that he
+knows it all, and I don't know anything!"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Caleb, what's the use? It's only
+Jerry's way," said Mrs. Speed, soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me!" she sighed, as Caleb went to
+his work. "It's a pity they can't get along as
+they used to. Caleb's so touchy he can't stand
+anything. I must tell Jerry to be more careful."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But when Jerry came in to supper and began
+his lively joking, she forgot the little lecture
+she had planned.</p>
+
+<p>"The Spencers are going to move West next
+week," remarked Mr. Speed. "Land's cheap,
+and I guess they need more elbow-room for
+such a big family. Greenville is a mighty
+thriving place, they say."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean Grandville, don't you, uncle?"
+suggested Jerry.</p>
+
+<p>"I generally say what I mean, young man!"
+was the curt reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's Grandville, anyway!" persisted
+Jerry, feeling in his pockets. "Jack Spencer is
+out there now. I got a letter from him yesterday
+begging me to go out there to him. Oh,
+here it is! Look at the postmark. It <i>is</i> Grandville!
+I knew I was right about it."</p>
+
+<p>Nettled by the tone and his own mistake,
+Mr. Speed finished his supper in moody silence.
+The boy had no idea how his habit had grown,
+or how sensitive his uncle had become in regard
+to it. "Why, Aunt Lucy," he insisted, when
+she remonstrated with him, "I never contradict
+people unless I know positively that they
+are wrong!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Maybe," she answered. "But what real
+difference does it make whether the weasels
+killed five chickens or six, or that it was the
+black pig and not the spotted one that rooted
+up the garden? Those are such little things
+to bicker about, just for the satisfaction of
+saying, 'I told you so!'"</p>
+
+<p>She imitated Jerry's tone and manner so well
+that he laughed a little sheepishly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll turn over a new leaf," he promised,
+"just to please you."</p>
+
+<p>Caleb Speed's farm was in southern Maine,
+near the coast. Jerry had grown up with the
+sound of the sea in his ears. It had long sung
+only a meaningless monotone to the boy, but it
+had begun to fill him with something of its
+own restless spirit. And about this time the
+Spencer boys were urging him to go West.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he answered; "I owe it to Uncle
+Caleb to stay here. He was too good to me
+when I was a little shaver for me to leave him
+now when he needs me. He shall have the
+best service I can give him until I am twenty-one;
+then I'll be free to follow you."</p>
+
+<p>But there came a crisis. Uncle Caleb gave
+Jerry a sum of money to pay a bill in town.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+There was a five-dollar piece in a roll of bills,
+and the gold-piece had disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Jerry insisted that he could not have had
+the money. "I <i>know</i>, Aunt Lucy. Uncle
+Cale handed me the roll of bills, and I put it
+down in this pocket, and never touched it till
+I got to town. When I took it out there were
+the bills just as he had handed them to me,
+and not a thing more."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe there's a hole in your pocket," she
+suggested.</p>
+
+<p>She turned it wrong side out, but found no
+place where a coin could have slipped through.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's a mystery where it went," she
+said. "I can't understand it."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! It's no mystery," answered Jerry,
+contemptuously. "Uncle simply didn't give
+it to me. He thought he had rolled it up in
+the bills, but was mistaken. That's all!"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by that?" cried Caleb,
+jumping up white with anger. "I tell you it
+<i>was</i> wrapped up in the bills, and if you can't
+account for it, you've either lost it or spent it!"</p>
+
+<p>Jerry bounded up-stairs to his room, stuffed
+his best suit of clothes into a little brown carpet-bag,
+and then poured out the contents of an old,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+long-necked blue vase. He had thirty dollars
+saved toward buying a horse of his own. Then
+he marched defiantly down-stairs to his uncle.</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw or touched your gold-piece," he
+declared, "but I'll not go away leaving you to
+say that I took any of your money!"</p>
+
+<p>He threw down a five-dollar bill and started
+to the door. As he turned the knob, he looked
+back at the woman by the fireplace, with her
+face in her apron.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Aunt Lucy," he said, with a
+choke in his voice. "You've been awful good
+to me&mdash;I'll never forget that!"</p>
+
+<p>Then he shut the door abruptly, and went
+out into the night. It lacked only five minutes
+of train-time when he reached the station, determined
+to go to a cousin of his father's who
+lived in Vermont, and write from there to Jack
+Spencer that he would work his way out West
+as soon as he could.</p>
+
+<p>Tingling with the recollection of his uncle's
+reproaches, the boy sat up very straight and
+wide-awake in the train for a long time. Then
+his tension relaxed, and for lack of something
+else to do, he felt in his pocket for Jack Spencer's
+letter. As he pulled it from its envelope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+something else fell into his hand. It was a
+gold-piece.</p>
+
+<p>He could scarcely believe his eyes as he sat
+dropping it from one hand into another. How
+had the coin got into the letter. For a time he
+could not guess; then the truth suddenly became
+clear to him.</p>
+
+<p>The letter had been in his breast-pocket when
+he stuffed the roll of bills into it, and the coin
+must have slipped into the open end of the
+envelope as he pushed the bills down. When
+he began to search for the money he had
+changed the letter to another pocket, never
+dreaming that it contained anything except
+Jack's glowing description of prairie-life.</p>
+
+<p>Jerry had been keeping his anger warm all
+the way by telling himself that his uncle had
+been harsh and unjust. He had even pictured
+to himself with grim satisfaction how shamefaced
+Caleb would look sometime when he
+should come across the coin among his own
+possessions. And now he had to think of himself
+as the blunderer and the unjust, foolish
+person.</p>
+
+<p>But now no apology could be too humble.
+He would get off at the next station and take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+the first train home. The case called for an
+immediate reconciliation.</p>
+
+<p>Then he reasoned that as he had paid for
+his ticket, he might as well go on to his journey's
+end and have a short visit. It would be
+easier, perhaps, to write than to speak his apology.</p>
+
+<p>Jerry soon found his elderly cousin, Tim
+Bailey, who happened to be working just then
+in a new store&mdash;a combination of a book-store
+and an old-fashioned daguerreotype gallery;
+not old-fashioned then, for it was before
+the photograph had penetrated to the rural
+regions. Tim's rigorous cross-questioning soon
+drew the whole story from the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's easily settled," said Tim.
+"Just you write to 'em and own up, and say
+you're going to stop with me over Christmas,
+but that you'll be along about New Year to turn
+over a new leaf. They'll bring out the fatted
+calf when you get back. I know Caleb like
+a book. He can't hold spite."</p>
+
+<p>Jerry settled himself to write the letter. But
+he found himself hard to please, and tore up
+several drafts. Writing apologies was not such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+easy work, after all! Then Tim put his grizzled
+head in at the door, with a beaming smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, boy, I've got an idee! The
+picture business is dull this morning. Go up
+and get yours took. You can send it along
+for a Christmas gift. Sha'n't cost you a cent,
+either. I get all my work done gratis, for sending
+him so much trade."</p>
+
+<p>Three days after, Jerry dropped into the
+post-office a little package addressed to his
+uncle, containing, besides a letter, an excellent
+likeness of himself. Jerry made in the letter
+a straightforward acknowledgment of his mistake,
+and accompanied this manly apology with
+an earnest request to be allowed to return home.</p>
+
+<p>He had grown so homesick for a sight of
+the old place that he could scarcely see the lines
+on his paper. And Aunt Lucy&mdash;well, he almost
+broke down at the thought of all her
+motherly kindness to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I'll surely get an answer by Wednesday,"
+he thought, but Wednesday went by, and
+another week passed, and although he called
+regularly at the post-office, no word came.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've done all I could," he said. "It's
+plain they don't want me back."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Tim's sympathetic old heart ached for the
+boy's distress. He even offered to go up to the
+farm and intercede in his behalf.</p>
+
+<p>"No indeed!" Jerry answered, defiantly.
+"I'll never beg my way back. I'm not the
+kind to go where I'm not wanted."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe they never got your letter."</p>
+
+<p>Jerry hooted at the idea. "No, they don't
+want to make up. That's the long and the short
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>When he finally started West, Tim Bailey
+went with him. Out on the far Western
+prairies, Jerry struck deep root in the favourable
+soil, and as the years passed on, became
+as much of a fixture as the new town that
+bore his name. Year after year he worked
+on, widening his fields, improving his buildings,
+working early and late, solely for the
+pleasure of accumulating.</p>
+
+<p>Tim Bailey had grown old and rheumatic,
+almost childish, but he still assumed a sort of
+guardianship over Jerry. One day he put down
+his newspaper, wiped his spectacles, and
+scanned the rough, burly-looking man on the
+other side of the stove, as if he had been a
+stranger.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Jerry," he said presently,
+"you're getting to look old, and your hair's all
+a-turning gray. Now you've got to quit pegging
+away so hard and take a holiday, before
+you get like me, so stiff and rheumatic you
+can't get away. Why don't you go to the
+World's Fair? It 'ud be a burning shame for
+the richest man in Trigg County to miss such
+a show."</p>
+
+<p>Thus it came about that one day Jerry
+rubbed his eyes in a bewildered way to find
+himself in the midst of a surging crowd that
+thronged the entrances of the Fair.</p>
+
+<p>He plodded along the Midway Plaisance, his
+umbrella under his arm and his hands in his
+pockets; he walked and stared till late in the
+afternoon. It was late in May, the spring
+ploughing had been a good preparation in pedestrianism,
+but the long furrows, enlivened
+only by the pipe of a quail or the cry of a catbird,
+had never brought such weariness as
+Jerry felt now.</p>
+
+<p>He did not realize he was so tired until he
+dropped into a seat in one of the gondolas on
+the lagoon, and remarked confidentially to the
+gondolier that he was "clean beat out."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was the first time Jerry had spoken since
+he entered the grounds. The man made no
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>He studied the fellow keenly a moment, and
+then turned to the crowds, surging along the
+banks in every direction. Not a soul in all
+that multitude even knew his name.</p>
+
+<p>A feeling of utter loneliness crept over him,
+and when the boat landed he was saying to
+himself that he would give the finest colt in his
+pastures for the sight of a familiar face.</p>
+
+<p>A few steps farther, and he saw one. It was
+in the government building, where an amused
+crowd was exclaiming over the Dead Letter
+Exhibit. Jerry edged along in front of the
+case, wondering at the variety of shipwrecked
+cargoes that had drifted into this government
+haven.</p>
+
+<p>A vague pity stirred in him for all the hopes
+that had gone into the grave of the dead letter
+office&mdash;rings that had never found the fingers
+they were to have clasped, gifts that might have
+unlocked long silences, tokens of friendship
+that were never received, never acknowledged&mdash;all
+caught in this snarled web that no human
+skill could possibly unravel.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then he saw the familiar face. It smiled out
+at him from the case of an old daguerreotype,
+till his heart began to beat so hard that he
+glanced guiltily around, to see if any one else
+heard it. The blood rushed to his head, and
+he felt dizzy.</p>
+
+<p>It was that picture of himself, taken so long
+ago up in Vermont! He was not likely to be
+mistaken in it&mdash;the only picture he had ever
+had taken in his life.</p>
+
+<p>He chuckled as he recalled the anxious
+oiling he had given the curly hair to make it
+lie flat, the harrowing hesitation over his necktie,
+the borrowing of the watch-chain that stood
+out in such bold relief against his brocaded vest.
+How quaint and old-fashioned it looked!</p>
+
+<p>He passed his hand over his grizzled beard
+with a sigh, for the smooth, boyish face was not
+all he saw. It brought back the whole faded
+past so overwhelmingly that for awhile he forgot
+where he was.</p>
+
+<p>Thirty-three years since he had dropped that
+little package in the office! He did not question
+why the letter had gone astray. He had lost
+his boyish faith in his own infallibility. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+had probably mailed it with only half the address,
+perhaps none.</p>
+
+<p>Now he was a boy again, back in Maine.
+Aunt Lucy's knitting-needles clicked in the
+firelight. Uncle Caleb was making him a sled.
+How warm and comfortable the kitchen felt,
+and how good Aunt Lucy's doughnuts tasted!</p>
+
+<p>The crowds jostled him. He stood as if
+grown to the spot, until a sharp-nosed woman
+elbowed her way in front of him, to see what
+interested him. She looked inquisitively from
+the picture to the weather-beaten face above
+her, and passed on, none the wiser. There
+was little likeness between the two.</p>
+
+<p>Her penetrating glances aroused him. He
+came to himself with a start, looked hastily
+around, and then set out from the building,
+heedless of direction. A keen, raw wind struck
+him as he strode along the lake shore. He
+shivered and turned up his coat collar.</p>
+
+<p>A drizzling mist of rain began to fall. People
+going by with their umbrellas up looked at
+him curiously as he plodded along with his
+own umbrella under his arm.</p>
+
+<p>Soon a heavy dash of rain aroused him to the
+necessity of finding immediate shelter. A group<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+of State buildings was just ahead. Glancing
+up he saw the name of his native State on one,
+and hurried in.</p>
+
+<p>A great log heap blazed and crackled in the
+huge fireplace, filling the room with a glowing
+comfort that warmed him, soul and body. He
+drew a chair close up to it, and spread his
+chilly fingers to the flames.</p>
+
+<p>The sticks against the forelog burnt to embers
+and fell into the ashes. The crane seemed
+to swing backward like a great finger, pointing
+to the past, as he sat and stared into the fire.</p>
+
+<p>People passing through the room saw only
+a rough old farmer, his clumsy boots stretched
+out on the hearth. They never dreamed of the
+scenes that passed before him in the fire. There
+were glimpses of snow-covered pine woods, of
+sparkling trout-streams gurgling in the June
+sunshine, of long stretches of level sea-sands
+where the tide crawled in.</p>
+
+<p>The old homesickness waked again. What
+had they thought of him through all these silent
+years? He wondered how they would receive
+his long-delayed apology. He must write as
+soon as he got back to the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>The rain had stopped. He stood up and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+shook himself, then went out-doors again, pulling
+his beard meditatively, as he walked toward
+the gate. It seemed a week since he had entered
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Outside, while he waited for a car, he kept
+poking the end of his umbrella savagely into
+a crack in the pavement. As he swung himself
+to the platform of a passing car, he turned back
+for another look at the domes and towers inside
+the gates.</p>
+
+<p>It was his last look. He had seen enough.
+He was going back to Uncle Caleb and Aunt
+Lucy.</p>
+
+<div class='center'><br />THE END.</div><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1_ad" id="Page_1_ad">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>COSY CORNER SERIES.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='hang1'>It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall
+contain only the very highest and purest literature,&mdash;stories
+that shall not only appeal to the children themselves,
+but be appreciated by all those who feel with
+them in their joys and sorrows,&mdash;stories that shall be
+most particularly adapted for reading aloud in the
+family circle.</div>
+
+<div class='hang1'>The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known
+artists, and each volume has a separate attractive
+cover design.</div>
+
+<div class='center'>
+Each, 1 vol., 16mo, cloth    &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;   $0.50<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON</i></div>
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel.</div>
+
+<p>The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its
+heroine is a small girl, who is known as the Little
+Colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an
+old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and
+old family are famous in the region. This old Colonel
+proves to be the grandfather of the child.</p>
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Giant Scissors.</div>
+
+<p>This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in
+France,&mdash;the wonderful house with the gate of The
+Giant Scissors, Jules, her little playmate, Sister Denisa,
+the cruel Brossard, and her dear Aunt Kate. Joyce is
+a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes
+shares with her the delightful experiences of the "House
+Party" and the "Holidays."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2_ad" id="Page_2_ad">[2]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Two Little Knights of Kentucky,</span>
+<span class="smcap">Who Were the Little Colonel's Neighbors.</span></div>
+
+<p>In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an
+old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is
+not, however, the central figure of the story, that place
+being taken by the "two little knights."</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.</div>
+
+<p>The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles
+will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for
+young people, written in the author's sympathetic and
+entertaining manner.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.</div>
+
+<p>A collection of six bright little stories, which will
+appeal to all boys and most girls.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Big Brother.</div>
+
+<p>A story of two boys. The devotion and care of
+Steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the
+theme of the simple tale, the pathos and beauty of which
+has appealed to so many thousands.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Ole Mammy's Torment.</div>
+
+<p>"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a
+classic of Southern life." It relates the haps and mishaps
+of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by
+love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Story of Dago.</div>
+
+<p>In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago,
+a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago
+tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps
+is both interesting and amusing.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3_ad" id="Page_3_ad">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By EDITH ROBINSON</i></div>
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>A Little Puritan's First Christmas.</div>
+
+<p>A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how
+Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child
+of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>A Little Daughter of Liberty.</div>
+
+<p>The author's motive for this story is well indicated by
+a quotation from her introduction, as follows:</p>
+
+<p>"One ride is memorable in the early history of the
+American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul
+Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another
+ride,&mdash;untold in verse or story, its records preserved
+only in family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of
+Anthony Severn was no less historic in its action or
+memorable in its consequences."</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>A Loyal Little Maid.</div>
+
+<p>A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary
+days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler,
+renders important services to George Washington.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>A Little Puritan Rebel.</div>
+
+<p>Like Miss Robinson's successful story of "A Loyal
+Little Maid," this is another historical tale of a real girl,
+during the time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was
+governor of Massachusetts.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>A Little Puritan Pioneer.</div>
+
+<p>The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement
+at Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds
+another to the list of favorites so well known to the
+young people.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>A Little Puritan Bound Girl.</div>
+
+<p>A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great
+interest to youthful readers.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4_ad" id="Page_4_ad">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramée)</i></div>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'><b>A Dog of Flanders</b>: <span class="smcap">A Christmas Story</span>.</div>
+
+<p>Too well and favorably known to require description.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Nürnberg Stove.</div>
+
+<p>This beautiful story has never before been published
+at a popular price.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>A Provence Rose.</div>
+
+<p>A story perfect in sweetness and in grace.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Findelkind.</div>
+
+<p>A charming story about a little Swiss herdsman.</p>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By MISS MULOCK</i></div>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Little Lame Prince.</div>
+
+<p>A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures
+by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Adventures of a Brownie.</div>
+
+<p>The story of a household elf who torments the cook
+and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the
+children who love and trust him.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>His Little Mother.</div>
+
+<p>Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant
+source of delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in
+this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts
+of youthful readers.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Little Sunshine's Holiday.</div>
+
+<p>An attractive story of a summer outing. "Little Sunshine"
+is another of those beautiful child-characters for
+which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5_ad" id="Page_5_ad">[5]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By JULIANA HORATIA EWING</i></div>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Jackanapes.</div>
+
+<p>A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite
+and touching story, dear alike to young and old.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Story of a Short Life.</div>
+
+<p>This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old.
+It is a part of the world's literature, and will never die.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>A Great Emergency.</div>
+
+<p>How a family of children prepared for a great emergency,
+and how they acted when the emergency came.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Trinity Flower.</div>
+
+<p>In this little volume are collected three of Mrs.
+Ewing's best short stories for the young people.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Madam Liberality.</div>
+
+<p>From her cradle up Madam Liberality found her
+chief delight in giving.</p>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By FRANCES MARGARET FOX</i></div>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Little Giant's Neighbours.</div>
+
+<p>A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose
+neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Farmer Brown and the Birds.</div>
+
+<p>A little story which teaches children that the birds
+are man's best friends.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Betty of Old Mackinaw.</div>
+
+<p>A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to
+the little readers who like stories of "real people."</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Mother Nature's Little Ones.</div>
+
+<p>Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or
+"childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6_ad" id="Page_6_ad">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE</i></div>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.</div>
+
+<p>This story, written by the gifted young Southern
+woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of
+the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Fortunes of the Fellow.</div>
+
+<p>Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm
+of "The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow" will welcome
+the further account of the "Adventures of Baydaw and
+the Fellow" at the home of the kindly smith among the
+Green Hills of Tennessee.</p>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By FRANCES HODGES WHITE</i></div>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Helena's Wonderworld.</div>
+
+<p>A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in
+the mysterious regions beneath the sea.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>Aunt Nabby's Children.</div>
+
+<p>This pretty little story, touched with the simple humor
+of country life, tells of two children, who, adopted by
+Aunt Nabby, have also won their way into the affections
+of the village squire.</p>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT</i></div>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Prince of the Pin Elves.</div>
+
+<p>A fascinating story of the underground adventures of
+a sturdy, reliant American boy among the elves and
+gnomes.</p>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle3'>The Water People.</div>
+
+<p>A companion volume and in a way a sequel to "The
+Prince of the Pin Elves," relating the adventures of
+"Harry" among the "water people." While it has the
+same characters as the previous book, the story is complete
+in itself.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7_ad" id="Page_7_ad">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By OTHER AUTHORS</i></div>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Flight of Rosy Dawn.</span> By <span class="smcap">Pauline
+Bradford Mackie</span>.</div>
+
+<p>The Christmas of little Wong Jan, or "Rosy Dawn,"
+a young Celestial of San Francisco, is the theme of this
+pleasant little story.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Susanne.</span> By <span class="smcap">Frances J. Delano</span>.</div>
+
+<p>This little story will recall in sweetness and appealing
+charm the work of Kate Douglas Wiggin and Laura E.
+Richards.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Millicent in Dreamland.</span> By <span class="smcap">Edna S.
+Brainerd</span>.</div>
+
+<p>The quaintness and fantastic character of Millicent's
+adventures in Dreamland have much of the fascination
+of "Alice in Wonderland," and all small readers of
+"Alice" will enjoy making Millicent's acquaintance.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Jerry's Reward.</span> By <span class="smcap">Evelyn Snead
+Barnett</span>.</div>
+
+<p>This is an interesting and wholesome little story of
+the change that came over the thoughtless imps on Jefferson
+Square when they learned to know the stout-hearted
+Jerry and his faithful Peggy.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>A Bad Penny.</span> By <span class="smcap">John T. Wheelwright</span>.</div>
+
+<p>No boy should omit reading this vivid story of the
+New England of 1812.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Gatty and I.</span> By <span class="smcap">Frances E. Crompton</span>.</div>
+
+<p>The small hero and heroine of this little story are
+twins, "strictly brought up." It is a sweet and wholesome
+little story.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8_ad" id="Page_8_ad">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Prince Yellowtop.</span> By <span class="smcap">Kate Whiting Patch</span>.</div>
+
+<p>A pretty little fairy tale.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Christmas Shoe.</span> By <span class="smcap">Jane P.
+Scott-Woodruff</span>.</div>
+
+<p>A touching story of Yule-tide.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Professor.</span> By <span class="smcap">Ida Horton
+Cash</span>.</div>
+
+<p>A quaint tale of a quaint little girl.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Seventh Daughter.</span> By <span class="smcap">Grace Wickham
+Curran</span>.</div>
+
+<p>One of the best stories for little girls that has been
+published for a long time.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Making of Zimri Bunker</span>: <span class="smcap">A Tale
+of Nantucket</span>. By <span class="smcap">W. J. Long</span>, Ph. D.</div>
+
+<p>This is a charming story of Nantucket folk by a
+young clergyman who is already well known through
+his contributions to the <i>Youth's Companion</i>, <i>St. Nicholas</i>,
+and other well-known magazines. The story deals
+with a sturdy American fisher lad, during the war of
+1812.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The King of the Golden River</span>: <span class="smcap">A
+Legend of Stiria</span>. By <span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span>.</div>
+
+<p>Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally
+intended for publication, this little fairy tale soon
+became known and made a place for itself.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Little Peterkin Vandike.</span> By <span class="smcap">Charles
+Stuart Pratt</span>.</div>
+
+<p>The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming
+story:</p>
+
+<p>"I dedicate this book, made for the amusement (and
+perchance instruction) of the boys who may read it, to
+the memory of one boy, who would have enjoyed as
+much as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party, but
+who has now marched out of the ranks of boyhood."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9_ad" id="Page_9_ad">[9]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Rab and His Friends.</span> By Dr. <span class="smcap">John
+Brown.</span></div>
+
+<p>Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known
+to need description. The dog Rab is loved by all.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Adventures of Beatrice and
+Jessie.</span> By <span class="smcap">Richard Mansfield</span>.</div>
+
+<p>The story of two little girls who were suddenly transplanted
+into the "realms of unreality," where they met
+with many curious and amusing adventures.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>A Child's Garden of Verses.</span> By <span class="smcap">R.
+L. Stevenson</span>.</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Stevenson's little volume is too well known to
+need description. It will be heartily welcomed in this
+new and attractive edition.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Little King Davie.</span> By <span class="smcap">Nellie Hellis</span>.</div>
+
+<p>The story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make
+many boys thankful they are not in the same position.
+Davie's accident, hospital experiences, conversion, and
+subsequent life, are of thrilling interest.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Sleeping Beauty.</span> <span class="smcap">A Modern Version.</span>
+By <span class="smcap">Martha B. Dunn</span>.</div>
+
+<p>This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine,
+intellectually "asleep" until she meets the "Fairy
+Prince," reminds us of "Ouida" at her best.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Young Archer.</span> By <span class="smcap">Charles E. Brimblecom</span>.</div>
+
+<p>A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied
+Columbus on his voyage to the New World.
+His loyalty and services through vicissitudes and dangers
+endeared him to the great discoverer, and the
+account of his exploits will be interesting to all boys.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10_ad" id="Page_10_ad">[10]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Fairy of the Rhône.</span> By <span class="smcap">A. Comyns
+Carr</span>.</div>
+
+<p>Here is a fairy story indeed, one of old-fashioned pure
+delight. It is most gracefully told, and accompanied by
+charming illustrations.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>A Small Small Child.</span> By <span class="smcap">E. Livingston
+Prescott</span>.</div>
+
+<p>"A Small Small Child" is a moving little tale of
+sweet influence, more powerful than threats or punishments,
+upon a rowdy of the barracks.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Peggy's Trial.</span> By <span class="smcap">Mary Knight Potter</span>.</div>
+
+<p>Peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose
+rebellion from a mistaken notion of loyalty, and her subsequent
+reconciliation to the dreaded "new mother," are
+most interestingly told.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>For His Country.</span> By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>,
+author of "Beautiful Joe," etc.</div>
+
+<p>A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved
+his country; written with that charm which has endeared
+Miss Saunders to hosts of readers.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>La Belle Nivernaise.</span> <span class="smcap">The Story of an
+Old Boat and Her Crew.</span> By <span class="smcap">Alphonse
+Daudet</span>.</div>
+
+<p>All who have read it will be glad to welcome an old
+favorite, and new readers will be happy to have it
+brought to their friendly attention.</p>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>Wee Dorothy.</span> By <span class="smcap">Laura Updegraff</span>.</div>
+
+<p>A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion
+of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and
+setting. With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the
+story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether
+wholesome in every way.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11_ad" id="Page_11_ad">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</h2>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel Stories.</span> By <span class="smcap">Annie
+Fellows Johnston</span>.</div>
+
+<p>Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy
+Corner Series, "The Little Colonel," "Two Little
+Knights of Kentucky," and "The Giant Scissors," put
+into a single volume, owing to the popular demand for a
+uniform series of the stories dealing with one of the
+most popular of juvenile heroines.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated  &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; $1.50<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel's House Party.</span>
+By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated by
+Louis Meynell.</div>
+
+<div class='center'>
+One vol., library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover   &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;    $1.50<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel's Holidays.</span> By
+<span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated by L. J.
+Bridgman.</div>
+
+<div class='center'>
+One vol., large 12mo, cloth, decorative cover   &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;    $1.50<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel's Hero.</span> By <span class="smcap">Annie
+Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated by E. B. Barry.</div>
+
+<p>One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative,</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+$1.20 <i>net</i> (postage extra)<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel at Boarding
+School.</span> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated
+by E. B. Barry.</div>
+
+<div class='center'>
+1 vol., large 12mo, cloth   &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;    $1.20 <i>net</i> (postage extra)<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Since the time of "Little Women," no juvenile heroine
+has been better beloved of her child readers than Mrs.
+Johnston's "Little Colonel." Each succeeding book has
+been more popular than its predecessor, and now thousands
+of little readers wait patiently each year for the
+appearance of "the new Little Colonel Book."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12_ad" id="Page_12_ad">[12]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2>THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES</h2>
+
+
+<p>The most delightful and interesting accounts possible
+of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings
+doings, and adventures.</p>
+
+<p>Each 1 vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six
+full-page illustrations in color by L. J. Bridgman.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+Price per volume  &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;    $0.50 <i>net</i>, postpaid $0.56<br />
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and instruction
+out of Mary Hazelton Wade's Little Cousin Series.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.
+Pleasing narratives give pictures of the little folk in the faraway
+lands in their duties and pleasures, showing their odd
+ways of playing, studying, their queer homes, clothes, and
+playthings.&nbsp;.&nbsp;.&nbsp;. The style of the stories is all that can be
+desired for entertainment, the author describing things in a
+very real and delightful fashion."&mdash;<i>Detroit News-Tribune.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle2'><br /><i>By MARY HAZELTON WADE</i></div>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Wade books">
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Swiss Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Norwegian Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Italian Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Siamese Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Cuban Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Hawaiian Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Eskimo Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Philippine Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Porto Rican Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little African Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Japanese Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Brown Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Indian Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Russian Cousin.</b></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<div class='adtitle2'><br /><i>By ISAAC HEADLAND TAYLOR</i></div>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<b>Our Little Chinese Cousin.</b><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+<div class='tnote'>
+<div class='center'>Transcriber's Note: Repeated story titles were deleted froom text. </div>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories, by 
+Annie Fellows Johnston and W. L. Taylor
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER ***
+
+***** This file should be named 39593-h.htm or 39593-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,3241 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories, by
+Annie Fellows Johnston and W. L. Taylor
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories
+
+Author: Annie Fellows Johnston
+        W. L. Taylor
+
+Release Date: May 2, 2012 [EBook #39593]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover]
+
+
+
+
+AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO
+
+AND OTHER STORIES
+
+
+
+
+Works of
+
+Annie Fellows Johnston
+
+
+THE LITTLE COLONEL SERIES
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+  The Little Colonel                                    $.50
+  The Giant Scissors                                     .50
+  Two Little Knights of Kentucky                         .50
+  The Little Colonel Stories                            1.50
+    (Containing in one volume the three stories, "The
+    Little Colonel," "The Giant Scissors," and "Two
+    Little Knights of Kentucky.")
+  The Little Colonel's House Party                      1.50
+  The Little Colonel's Holidays                         1.50
+  The Little Colonel's Hero                             1.50
+  The Little Colonel at Boarding-School                 1.50
+      (_In Preparation_)
+  The Little Colonel in Arizona                         1.50
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+OTHER BOOKS
+
+  Joel: A Boy of Galilee                               $1.50
+  Big Brother                                            .50
+  Ole Mammy's Torment                                    .50
+  The Story of Dago                                      .50
+  Cicely                                                 .50
+  Aunt 'Liza's Hero                                      .50
+  The Quilt That Jack Built                              .50
+  Asa Holmes                                            1.00
+  Flip's "Islands of Providence"                        1.00
+  Songs Ysame (Poems, with Albion Fellows Bacon)        1.00
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+  L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+  200 Summer Street          Boston, Mass.
+
+[Illustration: "AT FIRST HE ALWAYS BROUGHT SOME BOY WITH HIM"
+
+    (_See page 43_)]
+
+
+
+
+
+Cosy Corner Series
+
+
+AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO
+
+AND OTHER STORIES
+
+By Annie Fellows Johnston
+
+    Author of
+    "The Little Colonel Series," "Big Brother," "The
+    Story of Dago," "Ole Mammy's Torment," etc.
+
+    _Illustrated by_
+    W. L. Taylor and others
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    _Boston_ [Illustration: Decoration]
+    _L. C. Page & Company_
+    [Illustration: Decoration] _1904._
+
+
+
+
+    _Copyright 1889, 1890, 1893, 1894, 1895, 1899,_
+    BY PERRY MASON COMPANY
+
+    _Copyright, 1903_
+    BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+    (INCORPORATED)
+
+    _All rights reserved_
+
+    Published August, 1903
+
+
+    Colonial Press
+    Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+    Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGMENT
+
+
+These stories first appeared in the _Youth's Companion_. The author
+wishes to acknowledge the courtesy of the editors in permitting her to
+republish them in the present volume.
+
+Messrs. L. C. Page and Company wish also to acknowledge the courtesy of
+the editors in granting them permission to use the original
+illustrations.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                                        PAGE
+    AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO                     13
+    THE CAPTAIN'S CELEBRATION             35
+    JODE'S CIRCUS MONEY                   51
+    JIMMY'S ERRAND                        71
+    WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY AT HARDYVILLE   89
+    AN OLD DAGUERREOTYPE                 113
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                                  PAGE
+  "AT FIRST HE ALWAYS BROUGHT SOME BOY WITH HIM" (_See page 43_)
+                                                        _Frontispiece_
+
+  "SHE LISTENED INTENTLY, EXPECTANTLY"                              28
+
+  "SHE SAT SMILING HAPPILY IN THE DEPTHS OF THE BLACK SUNBONNET"    31
+
+  "MR. GATES KICKED HIS FEET AGAINST THE ANDIRONS"                  93
+
+
+
+
+AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO
+
+
+AUNT 'LIZA BARNES leaned over the front gate at the end of the garden
+path, and pulled her black sunbonnet farther over her wrinkled face to
+shade her dim eyes from the glare of the morning sun. Something unusual
+was happening down the street, judging from the rapidly approaching
+noise and dust.
+
+Aunt 'Liza had been weeding her little vegetable garden at the back of
+the house when she first heard the confused shouting of many voices. She
+thought it was a runaway, and hurried to the gate as fast as her
+rheumatic joints would allow.
+
+Runaway teams had often startled the sleepy streets of this little
+Indiana village, but never before had such a wild procession raced
+through its thoroughfares. Two well-grown calves dashed past, dragging
+behind them an overturned, home-made cart, to which they were harnessed
+by pieces of clothes-lines and rusty trace-chains.
+
+Behind them came a breathless crowd of shouting boys and barking dogs.
+They were gasping in the heat and the clouds of yellow dust their feet
+had kicked up. Aunt 'Liza's black sunbonnet leaned farther over the gate
+as she called shrilly to the boy who brought up the rear, "What's the
+matter, Ben?"
+
+The boy dropped out of the race and came back and leaned against the
+fence, still grinning.
+
+"Running isn't much in my line," he panted, as he wiped his fat,
+freckled face on his shirtsleeve. "But it was too funny to see them
+calves kick up their heels and light out. One is Joe Meadows's and one
+is Jeff Whitman's. They're broke in to work single, and pull all right
+that way. But the boys took a notion to make 'em work double. This is
+the first time they've tried it. Put bits in their mouths, too, and
+drive 'em with reins like horses. My! But didn't they go lickety-split!"
+
+Aunt 'Liza chuckled. Seventy-five years had made her bent and feeble,
+but her sense of fun and her sympathies were still fresh and quick.
+Every boy in the place felt that she was his friend.
+
+In her tumble-down cottage on the outskirts of the town she lived alone,
+excepting when her drunken, thriftless son Henry came back to be taken
+care of awhile. She supported herself by selling vegetables, chickens,
+and eggs.
+
+Most people had forgotten that she had once lived in much better
+circumstances. Whatever longings she may have had for the prosperity of
+her early days, no one knew about them. Perhaps it was because she never
+talked of herself, and was so ready to listen to the complaints of
+others, that everybody went to her with their troubles.
+
+The racing calves soon came to a halt. In a few minutes the procession
+came back, and halted quietly in front of the little garden gate. Jeff
+was leading the calves, which looked around with mild, reproachful eyes,
+as if wondering at the disturbance.
+
+"Aunt 'Liza," said Jeff, "can you lend me a strap or something? The
+reins broke. That's how they happened to get away from me."
+
+"You can take the rope hanging up in the well-shed if you'll bring it
+back before night."
+
+"All right, Aunt 'Liza. I'll do as much for you some day. Just look at
+Daisy and Bolivar! We're going to take them to the fair next fall, and
+enter them as the fastest trotting calves on record."
+
+"Boys are such harum-scarum creatures," said the old woman, as she bent
+painfully over her weeding again. "Likely enough Jeff'll never think of
+that rope another time."
+
+But after dinner, as she sat out on a bench by the back door, smoking
+her cob-pipe, Jeff came around the house with the rope on his arm.
+
+"Sit down and rest a spell," insisted the old woman. "I get powerful
+lonesome day in and day out, with scarcely anybody to pass a word with."
+
+"Where's Henry?" Jeff asked.
+
+"Off on another spree," she answered, bitterly. "I tell you, Jeff, it's
+a hard thing for a mother to have to say about a son, but many and
+many's the time I've wished the Lord had a-taken him when he was a
+baby."
+
+"Maybe he'll come all right yet, Aunt 'Liza," said Jeff.
+
+"Not he. Not an honest day's work has he done since he left the army,"
+she went on. "He was steady enough before the war, but camp life seemed
+to upset him like. He was just a boy, you see, and he fell in with a
+rough lot that started him to drinking and gambling. He's never been the
+same since. Pity the war took my poor Mac instead. _He_ never would 'a'
+left his old mother to drudge and slave to keep soul and body together."
+
+Jeff listened in amazement to this sudden burst of confidence. He had
+never heard her complain before, and scarcely knew how to answer her.
+
+"Why, Aunt 'Liza, I never knew before that you had two sons!" he said.
+
+"No, I suppose not," answered the old woman, sadly. "I suppose
+everybody's forgotten him but me. My Mac never had his dues. He never
+had justice done him. No, he never had justice done him." She kept
+repeating the words.
+
+"He ought to have come home a captain, with a sword, for he was a brave
+boy, my Mac was. His picture is in the front room, if you've a mind to
+step in and look at it, and his cap and his canteen are hanging on the
+peg where he left them. Dear, dear! what a long time that's been!"
+
+Jeff had all a boy's admiration for a hero. He took the faded cap
+reverently from its peg to examine the bullet-hole in the crown. He
+turned the battered canteen over and over, wishing he knew how it came
+by all its dents and bruises. The face that looked out from the old
+ambrotype with such steadfast eyes showed honesty in every line.
+
+"Doesn't look much like old Henry," thought Jeff.
+
+"Won't you tell me about him, Aunt 'Liza?" he asked, as he seated
+himself on the door-step again. "I always did love to hear about the
+war."
+
+It was not often she had such an attentive listener. He questioned her
+eagerly, and she took a childish delight in recalling every detail
+connected with her "soldier-boy." It had been so many, many years since
+she had spoken of him to any one.
+
+"Yes, he was wounded twice," she told him, "and lay for weeks in a
+hospital. Then he was six months in a Southern prison, and escaped and
+joined the army again. He had risked his own life, too, to save his
+colonel. Nobody had shown more courage and daring than he. Everybody
+told me that, but other men were promoted and sent home with titles. My
+boy came home to die, with only scars and a wasting fever."
+
+Thrilled by her story, Jeff entered so fully into the spirit of the
+recital that he, too, forgot that McIntyre Barnes was only one among
+many thousands of heroes who were never raised above the rank of
+private. Mother-love transfigured simple patriotism into more than
+heroism.
+
+As age came on she brooded over the thought more and more. Even the loss
+of one son and the neglect by the other did not cause her now such
+sorrow as that her country failed to recognize in her Mac the hero whom
+she all but worshipped.
+
+Jeff found himself repeating the old woman's words as he went toward
+home late in the afternoon:
+
+"No, Mac never had justice done him--he never had his dues."
+
+Several days after that Jeff and Joe stopped at the house again to
+borrow a pail.
+
+"We forgot to water the calves this morning," Jeff explained, "and
+they've had a pretty tough time hauling brush. They pull together
+splendidly now. We've been clearing out Mr. Spalding's orchard."
+
+"Look around and help yourselves," Aunt 'Liza answered, briskly. "When
+once I get down on my knees to weed I'm too stiff to get up again in a
+hurry. You'll find how it is, maybe, when you get into your seventies."
+
+"Have you heard the news?" asked Joe, as he held the pail for Daisy to
+drink.
+
+"No. What, boys?"
+
+"You know Decoration Day comes next week, and for once Stone Bluff is
+going to celebrate. A brass band is coming over from Riggsville, and
+they've sent to Indianapolis for some big speaker. There's going to be a
+procession, and a lot of girls will march around, all dressed in white,
+to decorate the graves."
+
+Aunt 'Liza raised herself up painfully from the roll of carpet on which
+she had been kneeling. A bunch of weeds was still clasped in her stiff
+old fingers.
+
+"Is it really so, Jeff?" she asked, tremulously, as he started to the
+well for another pail of water. "Are they going to do all that?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt 'Liza."
+
+"If I cut down all my roses, won't you boys take 'em out to the
+graveyard for me? I'm afraid nobody'll remember my poor Mac."
+
+"Why, of course we will," they answered, heartily. "But why can't you go
+yourself, Aunt 'Liza? Everybody's going."
+
+Aunt 'Liza pushed back the big sunbonnet, and looked wistfully across
+the meadows to a distant grove of cedar-trees that were outlined against
+the clear May sky.
+
+"It's been six years since I was out there. I'm too old and stiff ever
+to walk that far again, but nobody knows how I long to go sometimes. I
+s'pose I must wait now until I'm carried there; but then it'll be too
+late to do anything for _him_."
+
+Jeff looked at Joe, then at the hopeless expression of the wrinkled
+face.
+
+"I'll tell you what we can do, Aunt 'Liza," he said, eagerly. "If you
+don't mind riding in such an outlandish rig, the cart is big enough to
+hold you comfortably, and we'll make the calves pull you out there. Will
+you go that way?"
+
+Two tears that were rolling slowly down the furrows of her cheek dropped
+off suddenly as she laughed aloud.
+
+"Why, bless your heart, sonny," she exclaimed, pleased as a child. "I'd
+ride behind a sheep to get there. What a fine picture we'll make, to be
+sure! They'll put us in a comic almanac."
+
+Then she added, solemnly, "I'll thank you to my dying day, boys; and
+mark my words, the Lord will surely bless you for your kindness to a
+lonely old woman."
+
+When they were out of sight of the house Joe lay down on the grass and
+rolled over and over in a fit of laughter.
+
+"My eyes! what a figure we'll cut!" he gasped. "We'll have to go early,
+or we'll have a crowd at our heels."
+
+"Don't you suppose," said Jeff, "that the grave will be in pretty bad
+shape, if she hasn't been out there for six years? If it is, she'll feel
+worse than if she had stayed at home."
+
+"There's a lot of 'em all grown up with weeds and briers, with nothing
+but 'Unknown' marked on the headboards," answered Joe. "Let's get a
+cartload of sod, and fix them all up this afternoon."
+
+A little while later the rickety gate of the neglected burying-ground
+opened to admit two boys shouldering spades and driving a team of
+calves.
+
+"Get up, Bolivar!" called Jeff; "you're working for your country now."
+
+That Decoration Day was a memorable one in Stone Bluff. The earliest
+sunshine that streaked the chimney-tops and gilded the broad Ohio,
+flowing past the little town, found Aunt 'Liza Barnes in her garden. She
+had stripped her bushes of early roses, and her borders of all their gay
+old-fashioned flowers, to twist into wreaths to carry with her.
+
+When the morning train came puffing in from Indianapolis a large crowd
+had assembled at the station to catch a glimpse of Colonel Wake, the
+orator of the day. Jeff Whitman was there, painfully conscious of being
+dressed in his best, and of having a dreaded duty to perform.
+
+He watched the colonel step into Judge Brown's carriage, and as it
+disappeared from view he walked slowly down the street in the direction
+it had gone.
+
+All the morning Jeff hung around Judge Brown's house, trying to make up
+his mind to carry out his plan. At last he set his teeth together, and
+resolutely opened the gate. He felt ready to sink into the ground when
+the judge himself opened the door. Jeff's voice sounded far away and
+unnatural when he asked permission to speak to Colonel Wake.
+
+In another moment the boy was in the dreaded presence, nervously
+fingering his hat, and trying to recall his carefully prepared speech.
+Then at sight of the colonel's smiling face his embarrassment vanished.
+
+Before he realized it he had poured out the whole story of Aunt 'Liza's
+hero.
+
+"We are going to take her out there this afternoon," he said, in
+conclusion. "She hasn't been for six years, and maybe she won't live to
+go another year. She says people always praise Captain Bowles, who's
+buried there, and Corporal Reed, and even the little drummer boy, but
+they never say anything about her Mac. And--and--well, I thought if you
+knew what a splendid soldier he was, and the brave things he did, maybe
+you'd just mention him, too. It would please the old lady so much."
+
+The colonel promised, and gave Jeff a hearty handshake, saying he wanted
+to be introduced to Mrs. Barnes, and would depend on Jeff to point her
+out to him.
+
+Nearly every one walked out to Cedar Ridge. The way was not long, and
+by-paths led through shady lanes, where blackberry vines and wild roses
+trailed over the fence-corners.
+
+Colonel Wake and the judge drove in a carriage. The flower girls were
+drawn in a gaily decorated moving car, and carried flags and flowers. No
+one saw Aunt 'Liza in her strange conveyance, for she had gone long
+before the procession started.
+
+"How nice and green it is," she said, fondly stroking the smooth sod. "I
+needn't have worried all this time, thinking it wasn't looked after.
+Somebody has been kind to my Mac. I was going to give every single one
+of these flowers to him, but now I want you boys to take some of them
+and put a wreath on every one of those six graves marked 'Unknown.'"
+
+When the procession came up she was sitting on the same old folded quilt
+that had done duty in the cart as a seat. She leaned contentedly against
+the wooden headboard, marked simply, "McIntyre Barnes," with the number
+of his company and regiment. People looked at her in surprise, wondering
+how she came there.
+
+The boys had hitched the calves out of sight, on the other side of the
+hill; for being boys, they could not bear to be laughed at.
+
+Overhead the spicy cedar boughs waved softly in the May breeze. Below
+the bluff the waters of the Ohio sparkled in the sun. During all the
+ceremonies that preceded Colonel Wake's speech Aunt 'Liza sat with her
+dim eyes fixed on the Kentucky shore across the shining of the river.
+
+While the band played and the choir sang she never turned her gaze from
+it. Then the clapping of hands that announced the speaker seemed to
+arouse her. She listened intently, expectantly.
+
+Colonel Wake was a true orator. He swayed the listening crowd at his
+will, first to laughter and then to tears.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE LISTENED INTENTLY, EXPECTANTLY."]
+
+The boy's story that morning had greatly interested him. At the
+close, after referring tenderly to the unknown dead, and offering his
+passing tribute to the others, he told the story of McIntyre Barnes's
+heroic life.
+
+He told it as only an old soldier and an eloquent speaker could tell it.
+The old woman, sitting on her folded quilt on her son's grave, threw off
+the black bonnet to catch every tone, every gesture, and smiled up into
+his face with proud, grateful eyes.
+
+She felt like a queen coming into a long-deferred kingdom. That was her
+Mac he was talking about! This great soldier knew him and honoured him.
+
+Somebody called for three cheers for McIntyre Barnes. As the lusty
+voices rang up through the cedar boughs and echoed across the water she
+bowed her head on the sod, and her happy tears fell like rain. Perhaps
+it was the speech that moved them. Perhaps it was the sight of that
+wrinkled, tear-wet face; for when the flower girls finished strewing
+their garlands every grave had been decorated, but McIntyre Barnes's had
+received more than all. It was completely covered with fragrant bloom.
+
+The people who stood near could not help smiling when the boys drove up
+with the little cart to which the frisky calves were hitched. But Aunt
+'Liza was in such an uplifted frame of mind that she would not have
+noticed had they laughed aloud.
+
+The colonel came and shook her hands, saying he was proud to know the
+mother of such a son. After that everybody else came crowding around to
+speak to her.
+
+The band started back toward town, playing a lively quickstep, and the
+crowd soon dispersed. The boys did not talk much as they walked homeward
+in the sunset beside Bolivar and Daisy.
+
+As for Aunt 'Liza, she sat smiling happily in the depths of the black
+sunbonnet, and saying over and over:
+
+"My Mac has had his dues at last. It was a long time, but he's had
+justice done him at last!"
+
+[Illustration: "SHE SAT SMILING HAPPILY IN THE DEPTHS OF THE BLACK
+SUNBONNET."]
+
+
+
+
+THE CAPTAIN'S CELEBRATION
+
+
+"IS there anything I can do for you, captain?" Doctor Morris had made
+the rounds of the hospital and was standing beside the bed in a narrow
+little room at the end of the hall. He took the old man's feeble hand in
+one of his firm ones, and with the other gently stroked the white hair
+back from his wrinkled forehead. This seemed to smooth away some pain,
+too, for the faded blue eyes looked up at him with a grateful smile.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "there is. I don't like to trouble you, doctor, but
+I do want a piece of an old broomstick, and if I could have it early in
+the morning, I'd be very much obliged to you, sir."
+
+"A broomstick!" repeated the doctor, in amazement, wondering if the old
+man's mind was beginning to wander. "What under the sun could you do
+with it?"
+
+A faint smile crossed the captain's face. Then a spell of coughing
+delayed the answer for a moment.
+
+"I want to carve something," he panted, "and broom-handle wood is easy
+to cut. The nurse has been like an angel to me all these weeks that I
+have been in the hospital. Ever since they moved me into this room by
+myself, I've known that I haven't much longer to live, and I want to
+leave her something to show that I appreciate her kindness, and was
+grateful for it."
+
+The doctor pressed the old man's hand as he went on: "I've been thinking
+I would like to make her a little chain. My grandfather taught me to
+carve such things when I was a lad. He was a Swiss, you know, and
+followed my mother over to this country soon after I was born. He was so
+old that all he could do was just to sit under the trees and carve
+little toys to amuse the children. I have his pocket-knife yet," he
+added, with a smile of childish satisfaction that made the old face
+pathetic.
+
+He looked down at his right hand, so twisted out of shape that it was
+nearly useless. "I can't do as good work as I used to do thirty years
+ago, before that Minie ball crippled me," he said. "But Miss Mary will
+make allowances; she will know that I remembered and was grateful, don't
+you think?" he asked, anxiously.
+
+"Most certainly," answered the doctor, stooping to arrange the patient's
+pillows more comfortably about him. "But, captain, I am afraid that I
+can't allow you to undertake anything that will be a tax on your
+strength. You haven't any to spare."
+
+So deep a shade of disappointment crept into the old man's wistful eyes
+that the doctor felt an ache in his throat, and drove it away with a
+little laugh. "Pshaw!" he said, hastily. "You shall have a mile of
+broomsticks if you want them. I'll send my son Max up with one inside
+the next hour."
+
+The gong had just struck the signal for dismissal in the third-ward
+school building, when the busy physician drove up to the curbstone in
+his sleigh to get his boy. "Max will be down in a minute, Doctor
+Morris!" called a boy, as he ran past the sleigh with his skates slung
+over his shoulder. "Miss Clay kept some of 'em to see about celebrating
+Washington's Birthday."
+
+"Thank you, Ned," answered the doctor. He drew the robes closer about
+him as he walked the horse up and down, for there was a keen wind
+blowing this cold February afternoon. Presently a group of boys loitered
+by and stood on the corner, waiting for the rest of Miss Clay's pupils
+to join them.
+
+"I'm glad Miss Clay isn't my teacher!" one of them exclaimed, in a loud
+voice. "Skating's too good now to waste time learning to spout pieces."
+
+"Well, I think it's about time to give George Washington a rest," said
+the largest boy in the group. "He's a back number, and I'll tell her so,
+too, if she asks me to say any of her old pieces."
+
+"That's a pretty way to talk about the Father of your Country!" piped up
+a little fellow in spectacles, who was sliding on the ice in the
+gutter. "Back number! I just dare you to say that to Miss Clay!"
+
+The doctor overheard this, but he did not hear the quarrel that
+followed, for Max came running down just then, and climbed into the
+sleigh.
+
+"You're late to-day, my boy. What's the trouble?"
+
+"Oh, Miss Clay kept us to arrange a programme for Washington's Birthday,
+and nobody wanted to take part. We're all tired of the same old thing
+year after year--just songs and recitations and dialogues about the same
+old fellow!"
+
+"A fine lot of patriots this next generation is going to turn out!" said
+the doctor, so sternly that Max gave him a quick glance of surprise, and
+then flushed at his evident disapproval. The grim look crept into the
+man's eyes that was always there when he was absorbed in a critical
+case.
+
+"O papa, are we going home?" cried Max, in a disappointed tone, as the
+horse turned in that direction.
+
+"For a few minutes," answered Doctor Morris. "I want you to take
+something to one of my patients at the hospital. I'll leave you with
+him while I go on to the Berridge place."
+
+Max, who had expected a long sleigh-ride, forgot his disappointment when
+he found that Captain Wilshire was an old soldier, who bore the scars of
+more than one battle. An internal wound, received at Shiloh, still
+troubled him at times, and exposure during the last year of the war had
+brought on the consumption that was now slowly taking his life away.
+
+"He is one of the truest patriots it has ever been my honour to meet,"
+said the doctor. "I have known many statesmen in my time, several
+generals and two Presidents. Any one of them might well be proud to take
+off his hat to Joe Wilshire. When you see the old hero lying alone, Max,
+in that cheerless little room in the hospital, I want you to think of
+the reason why I so greatly respect him. It is not simply because he was
+brave in battle, or because his heroic cheerfulness kept him alive
+through half a year in Libby Prison, or because he came home with the
+seeds of disease planted in his system and his good right hand crippled
+and useless. Many a man has encountered these tests, and yet has lost
+his zeal for his country as soon as the cannon smoke cleared away and
+the martial music was done."
+
+"Then why is it, papa?" asked Max, for they had reached the house, and
+the doctor was looking in the bottom of the sleigh for the
+hitching-strap.
+
+"Well, when he came home, he was of course poor. He made a meagre living
+for his wife and baby with only a few acres of land and of fruit-trees
+with which to do it. Several times his old comrades suggested to him
+that he ought to apply for some fat government office, but he always
+said, 'Boys, I know that you mean well, and that you and my friends
+could probably get me in on the score of my being a disabled soldier;
+but I know and you know that I am not competent to fill such an office.
+If I could fill an office, and at the same time serve my country by
+doing so, I'd unhesitatingly take one. But I'd only be serving myself by
+filling my pockets at the government's expense. No, I'm obliged to you,
+boys, but I can't feel that it would be exactly honourable.'
+
+"Now that's patriotism, Max, of the highest type, showing unselfish
+loyalty and love of country!" exclaimed the doctor, as he sprang out of
+the sleigh. "I was disturbed and hurt just now, when I heard the boys
+talking about Washington being a 'back number.' It hurt because there is
+some truth in it. Wars call out such generals, but there are too few men
+in these times of peace who step into office with Washington's high,
+unselfish motives. And I fear the number is few of men who will
+deliberately give up the honour and emolument of office because they
+believe some one else can render better service, or because principle
+pulls harder than public purse-strings. Yes, such patriotism is getting
+to be a 'back number'--so far back that it has grown burdensome for some
+people to honour it, even once a year."
+
+Max had seldom heard his father speak so indignantly before, and looked
+at him in surprise as he gave a final fierce tug at the knot he had tied
+in the halter.
+
+An hour later, when Doctor Morris called at the hospital, Max came
+running down-stairs with his eyes shining and an old battered canteen
+under his arm. "The captain gave it to me!" he said. "He has ever so
+many old relics in his chest, and there is a splendid story about each
+one. O papa, isn't he just the lovablest old man? He asked me to come
+often and bring some of the boys. He says he gets so lonesome!"
+
+Nobody but the nurse knew how many times Max climbed the hospital stairs
+during the next two weeks. At first he always brought some boy with him
+to listen to the captain's stories, and carry away some relic as a
+treasured keepsake from the chest beside his bed; but later, the captain
+coughed too frequently to talk much. Then Max came alone, with bunches
+of hothouse flowers and little paper bags full of tempting fruit.
+
+No matter when the boy came, he always found the captain busy with his
+carving. Day by day the old broomstick was slowly approaching a
+wonderful transformation. It would soon be turned into a long, slender
+chain, with each tiny, separate link perfectly fashioned. Sometimes, the
+nurse, not knowing that it was intended for her, and wondering at the
+old man's childish impatience to finish it, would gently insist on
+taking it out of his feverish fingers.
+
+"Wait till to-morrow, when you are stronger," she would urge. He would
+then reluctantly give it up, but the thought of his work stayed with
+him. Even in his sleep his poor crippled hand bent as if to grasp it,
+and the left one feebly repeated the motions of wielding a knife.
+
+"I have set my heart on having it done by Washington's Birthday," he
+whispered one day to Max. "Oh, if I can only hold out to finish it!" he
+added, as he sank back wearily. The nurse put the unfinished work aside,
+but the next morning he begged so imploringly for it that she had not
+the heart to refuse.
+
+When the twenty-second of February came, Miss Clay's schoolroom was in
+gala dress for the occasion. She had been untiring in her efforts to
+make the ceremonies a success, but unconsciously to himself the old
+captain had done far more than she to arouse an interest in the
+programme.
+
+Max came first with his old canteen, and repeated the story that the
+captain had told him, of the brave comrade who had carried it. Then one
+of the boys brought an old army cape of faded blue, and another a broken
+spur. Simple tales were told of love and loyalty that had never found
+their way into print, but they stirred the hearts of the hearers in the
+schoolroom with a pathetic tenderness for these unknown men who had
+been so bravely true.
+
+Doctor Morris came into the room just in time to see the big fellow
+stand up who had declared the Father of his Country a "back number." He,
+too, had been with the captain, for he carried an old blood-stained,
+bullet-torn flag. He told its history so well that the tears came to his
+eyes in his earnestness, and the audience sympathized with the feeling
+and applauded him when he had finished.
+
+"I see that we have a member of the school board with us," said Miss
+Clay, bowing to Doctor Morris. "We want to hear from him before we have
+our last song."
+
+This was the opportunity the doctor was waiting for. He took a little
+package from his pocket. It was the captain's finished chain, from which
+hung a tiny anchor, beautifully carved and polished. "The nurse showed
+this to me a little while ago," he said, "and I asked her to let me
+bring it here for you to see."
+
+The speech that followed was very much like the one he had made to Max
+in the sleigh--all afire with admiration for the man who, with crippled
+hand and with empty pockets, had turned his back on office, for love of
+country, for conscience' sake.
+
+"But of all the noble lessons of this old man's life," he said, in
+conclusion, "none is more beautiful in spirit than this last act; this
+expression of gratitude to his faithful nurse. What is so commonplace,
+so soon forgotten as a bit of old broom-handle? But look at this." Again
+he held up the chain. "See the transforming power of a noble purpose! He
+has made of it an anchor, and fastened to her heart, with every link,
+the memory of his great gratitude.
+
+"I don't want to preach," he went on, "but I must say that you young
+people, I fear, miss the spirit with which the nation should honour this
+day, if you do not see that the success of its celebration depends
+entirely on this same transforming power. A heartfelt gratitude to the
+heroes who won and kept our liberty can make beautiful the most
+commonplace act of commemoration."
+
+Later, when the February afternoon was nearing twilight, there was a
+muffled sound of fife and drum on the hospital stairs. The many feet
+stepped lightly, but with a measured tramp, tramp as Miss Clay's school
+marched down the long corridor, four abreast.
+
+The captain had been delirious at intervals all the afternoon. Now he
+opened his eyes with a puzzled expression, for the martial music made
+him forget his surroundings.
+
+"It's just the young people from the school," explained the nurse,
+opening the door wider, that he might see the long rows of bright-faced
+boys and girls in the hall.
+
+Max came in and took the old soldier's hand, stroking it affectionately
+while he talked. "They're going to sing 'Hail Columbia,' captain. You
+know how it goes:
+
+    "Let independence be our boast,
+     Ever mindful what it cost,
+     Ever grateful for the prize!"
+
+"You see we never were really 'mindful what it cost' until we knew you,
+captain," Max went on, "so we never thought about being especially
+grateful to anybody before. This is a sort of thank-offering to such men
+as Washington--and you."
+
+The captain tried to raise himself from the pillows--tried to speak some
+word of greeting to the young people who were watching him, but sank
+back exhausted.
+
+"I can't!" he said to the nurse in a voice that trembled pitifully. "You
+tell them how glad--how proud--" Then speech failed him. The next moment
+the boys and girls began to sing.
+
+A happy light came into the dim old eyes, as the sweet voices were
+lifted up in the inspiring airs that he loved so well.
+
+They marched out softly when the songs were done, waving good-bye to him
+with their handkerchiefs. Down the street the music of fife and drum
+sounded fainter and fainter. The room was growing dark.
+
+Max, who lingered behind, saw the white head turn on the pillow and
+heard a long-drawn sigh of satisfaction: "The dear children! God help
+'em to keep the old flag flying!" And that was the captain's last
+audible prayer.
+
+
+
+
+JODE'S CIRCUS MONEY
+
+
+IT was nearly school-time, but Jode didn't seem to be at all in a hurry.
+He sat on the wood-pile with the empty chip-basket beside him, slowly
+untying his shoes. The old gobbler strutted around the corner of the
+kitchen, and halted suddenly with one foot drawn up, as he caught sight
+of the red stockings.
+
+"Quit! quit!" he cried, stretching his neck with an angry gobble.
+
+Aunt Jane had come to the door to shake the table-cloth. She stood a
+moment, sniffing the warm spring air, and peering up at the pink
+peach-tree buds through her spectacles.
+
+"Quit! quit!" cried the turkey again, and his angry voice attracted her
+attention.
+
+"Well, Mary Ann," she exclaimed, "I just wish you'd see what that boy's
+a-doin'! It isn't for me to say, but if he was _mine_, he'd not go
+around barefoot this kind of weather. Next thing will be croup. You'd
+better 'tend to him."
+
+"Meddlesome old thing!" muttered Jode, disrespectfully, throwing a chip
+at the gobbler. "Both of you had to go and tell."
+
+The table-cloth whisked into the kitchen, followed by the complaining
+voice, and soon after his mother came to the door and called him.
+
+"Have you fed the calves, Joseph?"
+
+"Yes'm."
+
+"And filled the chip-basket?"
+
+"Almost."
+
+"Then hurry, my son; it is nearly school-time."
+
+"I say, ma," he began, "can't I go barefooted? It's plenty warm, and
+lots of the boys do."
+
+"Why, no, child," she answered. "I told you the other day not to think
+of such a thing for another month at least. Put on your shoes
+immediately, and don't let me hear another word about it. It's of no use
+to tease."
+
+Jode knew that, perfectly. In all the ten years of his varied
+experiences, it never had been of any use. Now, although the feet that
+slipped back into the red stockings and stout shoes were very loath to
+go, they went slowly but surely in.
+
+"Wish't I was an Indian," he said, as he went through the orchard,
+balancing his geography on his head and swinging his lunch-basket, while
+the dog frisked around him. He had a queer way of talking to himself. "I
+could stay out-doors all the time then, and never have to go to school.
+Indians have a better time than anybody, 'thout it's dogs. O Penny,
+ain't you glad you're a dog?"
+
+The first bell was just beginning to ring when he went through the gate
+at the end of the lane, so he had plenty of time to stop when he reached
+Squire Hooper's barn, and look at the flaming show-bills with which it
+was covered.
+
+Johnny Harris was there ahead of him, and he noticed, with a pang of
+envy, that his feet were bare, and that his stubby toes were digging up
+the soft earth, as he stood looking at the pictures.
+
+"_I'm_ goin' to the show," announced Jode, proudly. "Our hired man said
+he'd take me if I'd pay. Pa always pays me every spring for dropping
+corn, so I'll have more than enough."
+
+Johnny did not say anything, for his father was the drunken shoemaker of
+the little settlement, and the cross-road tavern took all their spare
+pennies. He stood and looked with longing eyes at the pictures of the
+animals. He knew what a stir there would be circus-day. How the wagons
+would begin to rattle along the roads at daylight from all directions;
+and how the band would play in town; and the frightened country horses
+would prance, and the crowds of people would block the streets to see
+the long, gay procession. But it would be six miles away, and he would
+miss it all.
+
+While they looked at the side-show pictures,--the fat woman and the
+two-headed man and the African giant,--the second bell began to ring and
+away they raced to the schoolhouse. In his haste Jode left his geography
+on the gate-post by Squire Hooper's barn, and never thought of it again
+until after the noon-hour, when they came tramping in from the
+playground.
+
+"You are very careless, Joseph," said the teacher. "Sit with Harris to
+study, and don't let it happen again, sir."
+
+The boys put their heads together behind the map of the New England
+States, and began studying their boundaries.
+
+"Let's begin with the littlest," whispered Jode. "And don't you talk to
+me, old fellow; I don't want to be kept in again after school. Rhode
+Island is bounded on the north by Massachusetts, on the east by--"
+
+"Oh, say," interrupted Johnny, "I've got some field-mice in a box at
+home. I was going to bring them to-day, but was afraid the teacher would
+take 'em away. They're the cunningest little things! Come over after
+school and I'll show 'em to you."
+
+"All right," whispered Jode, with one eye on the teacher. "On the north
+by Massachusetts, on the east by Massachusetts and Atlantic Ocean, on
+the south by--"
+
+"Oh gracious! look there!" interrupted Johnny again. "Look at Boney
+Woods! What's he a-doin'?"
+
+Boney had his book propped up in front of him. His head was bowed
+studiously over his lesson, but his lesson was farthest from his
+thoughts. He had cut a piece of leather from the top of his boot-leg,
+and was making a pair of spectacles.
+
+"Oh, never mind him. Come on, and let's learn this. I've got through
+half the day all right, and don't want to spoil it all now. Rhode Island
+is bounded on the north by Massachusetts, on the east by Massachusetts
+and Atlantic Ocean, on the south by Atlantic--"
+
+"I say, Jode," interrupted his seat-mate, "I can pick up three marbles
+at a time with my toes."
+
+"So could I," answered Jode, "if I didn't have my shoes on."
+
+"Bet you couldn't!"
+
+"Bet I could!"
+
+"Take 'em off and try," coaxed Johnny.
+
+"Well, I'll just show you," retorted Jode.
+
+There was a class in algebra at the board, and the teacher was very busy
+explaining some problem. "Let _x_ equal the length of the fish," he was
+saying. Jode raised his foot carefully and began to untie his shoe.
+
+"And let _y_ equal the length of its tail," continued the teacher,
+completely absorbed in the problem.
+
+In a moment the shoe slipped off noiselessly, and Johnny put three of
+his largest marbles in a row on a crack in the floor.
+
+"Aw, that ain't fair," said Jode. "You can't pick up that big Pompey
+yourself. Put down three little grays."
+
+Johnny grumbled, but made the change, and Jode triumphantly picked them
+up with his toes.
+
+"There," said he. "What did I tell you?" Just then one of the marbles
+began to slip. He tried to regain his hold, and all three of them
+dropped noisily, and went rolling across the floor.
+
+The teacher turned quickly, and his eyes fell, not on Johnny and Jode,
+but on Boney Woods, who had finished the spectacles and put them on, and
+was now lolling out his tongue, and making hideous faces at the smaller
+children.
+
+So intent was he on this, that he did not know he was being watched,
+until the awful stillness that had settled over the noisy room warned
+him that something was the matter. Then he faced around in his seat in
+great haste, to make the discovery that he was the centre of attraction.
+
+"Are you quite through with your little exhibition, Bonaparte?" asked
+the teacher. "Come here! Just as you are--don't take them off."
+
+Poor Boney went up with fear and trembling.
+
+"I'll settle with you after school, sir. Take a seat on the platform and
+study your lesson."
+
+Boney stumbled to his place, and sat looking at his book, with hot,
+briny tears stealing down under the huge spectacles. From past
+experiences he had learned too well what that meant. The school settled
+down into almost breathless silence, and the guilty couple began to
+study violently.
+
+"I can't get my shoe laced up without his seeing me," whispered Jode,
+presently.
+
+"Oh, leave it off," begged Johnny, "and slip the other one off, too. It
+feels awful good to get rid of shoes." He stretched out his ten little
+brown toes, and surveyed them with a satisfied air. "See them feet?" he
+asked. "Them old feet don't care for nothing but glass. They can stand
+rocks or anything. Why, in summer, I can tramp down the thorniest kind
+of bushes, blackberryin', and never mind the briars a bit."
+
+"Aw, I wouldn't be such a brag," responded Jode. Nevertheless, he
+silenced the inward voice that reminded him of his mother's command, and
+followed his little friend's example.
+
+It was soon time for the afternoon recess, and they all went trooping
+out into the warm sunshine, all but Boney, doomed to solitude and the
+leather spectacles.
+
+Half a dozen boys crossed the playground, and went to the blacksmith
+shop on the other side of the road. Jode followed slowly, for the sticks
+and stones hurt his bare feet, and his conscience hurt him more, as he
+remembered his mother's parting instructions.
+
+As usual the good-natured blacksmith was busy at his anvil, and paid no
+attention to the crowd of boys making themselves at home in his smithy.
+A seedy-looking stranger on a mule rode up to the door to have a loose
+shoe fastened in place.
+
+"Be keerful, young 'uns," he drawled, "this 'ere mewel's heels is
+loaded."
+
+The boys shoved back a little to give the newcomer more room, and then
+kept on shoving each other in play. The end boy fell against Johnny, and
+Johnny fell against Jode, and Jode took another step backward. This time
+his little bare foot came down on the piece of hot iron that the
+blacksmith had thrown aside when he went to wait on his new customer.
+
+Jode never distinctly remembered what happened after that, he was so
+nearly crazed with the fierce pain. He knew that the blacksmith lifted
+him in his strong arms, and carried him, screaming, to the house. He
+felt some woman bandage his foot with something cool and soothing, and
+wash his hot, flushed face. Then two of the big boys carried him home,
+and laid him on the sitting-room lounge, and went off, forgetting to
+close the door.
+
+He sat up and called his mother. No one answered. Everything was so
+still about the house that his own voice sounded strange when he called.
+Then he remembered that she had gone to a quilting that afternoon, and
+that Aunt Jane had built a fire away down by the ash-hopper and was
+making soap. So it was useless to call.
+
+Three or four chickens, seeing the door open, seized that opportunity to
+venture in, and walked around pecking at the carpet, and looking
+inquiringly at the disconsolate figure on the lounge.
+
+"Shoo!" he cried, savagely, "you tormentin' old things!" Then he hopped
+across the room and banged the door after them, and hopped back.
+
+The throbbing pain in his foot, and the deserted appearance of the
+house, brought the tears to his eyes. Then he remembered the show, and
+that his foot would not be well enough for him to earn the money
+dropping corn. He would have to miss it. Throwing himself on the lounge
+again, he cried softly to himself with great sobs that nearly choked
+him.
+
+When his mother came home, she found him fast asleep with cheeks and
+lashes wet, and sobbing at intervals in his sleep.
+
+Aunt Jane undertook to lecture him next day about his disobedience and
+what it led to, but he began to cry again, and she relented.
+
+"Well, Joseph," she said, looking over her square-bowed spectacles, "I
+guess you've had a hard lesson, and one you won't forget in a hurry. As
+long as your heart's set on goin' to that show, if you'll learn to sew
+carpet-rags I'll pay you by the pound, and you can earn the money that
+way."
+
+So Jode went patiently to work with thread and needle, and all those
+long April days sat in the house with his foot on a pillow, and sewed
+yards and yards of carpet-rags.
+
+The pounds grew slowly, but the day came at last when he rolled his
+balls into the sack with Aunt Jane's, and two new silver dimes and a
+nickel jingled in his pockets.
+
+Johnny Harris came every day to ask about the foot, and see the size of
+the balls. He looked enviously at the shining coins when Jode proudly
+displayed them.
+
+"Gracious! Ain't she pretty?" he exclaimed, spinning one of the dimes
+around on the table. Then he balanced it on his thumb-nail, and tried
+its edge with his teeth, and finally put it in his mouth, while he
+watched Aunt Jane get out the steelyards, to weigh the warp for the new
+carpet.
+
+Presently he turned to Jode with a white, scared face. "Oh, I've done
+swallered it!"
+
+"You mean old thing," cried Jode. "I worked days and days to earn that
+dime. O Johnny! what _did_ you do it for?"
+
+"I didn't mean to," protested Johnny, eagerly. "It just slipped down as
+easy--this way." Suiting the action to the word, he took up the other
+dime, and popped it into his mouth.
+
+"I was rolling it 'round with my tongue this way, and I sort o' choked,
+and it just slipped--ker-che-ew!"
+
+Unlucky Johnny! This dime slipped also, for a mighty sneeze seized him,
+and sent the money rolling across the floor. Both boys darted after it
+with outstretched hands, but it bounced through the open door, and
+slipped out of sight behind the old stone steps. It was useless to
+attempt to move them. The toys of half a century had found a
+hiding-place in that crack, and Aunt Jane herself had, years ago, seen
+it swallow up the cherished treasure of her childish affection--a string
+of amber beads.
+
+Johnny stood in open-mouthed horror at what he had done, while Jode's
+gaze wandered from the steps to Johnny, as if he saw the whole
+menagerie, animals, tent and all, disappearing down that gaping crack
+and the little red throat. It was more than he could bear.
+
+"It's all _your_ fault, Johnny Harris; if it hadn't been for you, I
+wouldn't have burnt my foot in the first place. I just can't bear to do
+it all over again, and besides, there isn't time anyway."
+
+He lifted his hand angrily, and slapped Johnny's fat, freckled face.
+Then both the boys began to cry.
+
+Aunt Jane disappeared in the closet for something, and stood there a
+moment, shaking with inaudible laughter, till the square-bowed
+spectacles slid down her nose. She looked very stern, though, when she
+came out and said, "There! there! boys, that's enough. It's no use to
+cry over spilled milk or swallowed money, either."
+
+"Oh, please, ma'am, Miss Jane," begged Johnny, "won't you teach me to
+sew carpet-rags? I'll pay him back sure if you'll let me."
+
+Aunt Jane looked at the clumsy little hands, brown, dirty, and covered
+with warts, and shook her head. It seemed a hopeless task. But the
+earnest look on the face and in the anxious eyes made her relent, and
+she gave a reluctant promise.
+
+The rag-sewing commenced again. This time two boys sat on the door-step,
+longing to be out in the spring wind and sunshine, and one nursed his
+lame foot, and one wrestled manfully with thread that would snarl, and
+needles that would stick into his clumsy fingers.
+
+As they sewed they talked, and the subject that came up oftenest was the
+circus. How Johnny longed to go! After awhile a hope whispered to him,
+that maybe he could pay his debt to Jode in time to earn enough money to
+go himself.
+
+Although Aunt Jane sorted the rags so that most of the short ones fell
+to her lot, and the long ones to Johnny's, and contributed many a yard
+on the sly, Jode's foot was well before Johnny proudly paid over the two
+dimes, and only a long, red scar remained, to remind Jode of his
+disobedience and punishment.
+
+"Wisht I was goin', too," sighed Johnny, when the last pound was weighed
+and delivered.
+
+Then, regardless of ceremony, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and
+started home on the run. He did not go all the way. Aunt Jane spied him
+when she went to the barn for eggs. He was lying on the hay with his
+face in his arms.
+
+She stood and looked at him a moment, thinking what an honest little
+heart it was, beating under the patched, faded jacket,--thinking of his
+drunken father and his miserable home,--of how much he wanted to go with
+the other boys, and how keenly he felt his poverty.
+
+Then she took the eggs to the house, and tying her sunbonnet tighter,
+started resolutely down the lane to the big road in the direction of
+Johnny's home. The hand under her gingham apron gripped firmly an old
+leather purse.
+
+That evening as Jode sat in the twilight, just inside the door,
+listening to the frogs croaking in the meadow-pond, a dusky little
+figure came running down the path. It was Johnny.
+
+"Hi! Jode," he cried, "I'm a-goin', too! I'm a-goin', too! I'm too glad
+to hold still. The money jest rained down like the manna on ole Moses! I
+don't know who left it, but it was left at our house, and it was left
+fer me!"
+
+Then, throwing himself on the ground, he turned one somersault after
+another down the path into the dewy darkness of the warm April
+night.
+
+
+
+
+JIMMY'S ERRAND
+
+
+"WELL, I declare if Abe isn't the most forgetful boy I ever saw!"
+exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, as she emptied the contents of a large
+market-basket upon the kitchen table. "This makes the second time he's
+been to town and back this week, and he's forgotten that soda both
+times. Jimmy!" she called out to a freckle-faced boy who was making the
+old dog walk around the kitchen floor on its hind feet, "climb up to the
+top pantry shelf and see if there's any spice left in those tin boxes."
+
+"What are you going to make, ma?" languidly inquired a pale girl who sat
+by the stove shaking with a chill.
+
+"Why, I intended to make a cake for the new preacher's donation-party,"
+answered Mrs. Perkins. "That's what the committee asked
+for--marble-cake and biscuits. Did you find anything, Jimmy?"
+
+"No'm. They're all empty." The boy jumped down and went back to the
+patient old dog, which he now converted into a wheelbarrow and trundled
+around on its clumsy fore paws.
+
+"What shall I do!" exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, in despair. "There's not a
+speck of spice or soda in the house."
+
+This was before the days of baking-powder, and it was eight miles to the
+nearest town.
+
+"I'll tell you," answered Maria, with her teeth chattering. "Let Abe
+saddle old Blaze and go up to Doctor Spinner's. He always keeps such
+things on hand, and we can send for some more quinine at the same time."
+
+"And be about as likely to get soap and knitting-needles as anything
+else!" replied her mother, with a frown. "It's a pity a boy as old as
+Abe is can't be trusted to remember anything!"
+
+"Let Jimmy go," suggested Maria. "It's only three miles, and he can
+easily get back by dinner-time."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Perkins, "I don't know of any reason why he shouldn't
+be trusted with the horse, and he can be depended on to do the errand a
+sight better than Abe."
+
+Jimmy's freckled face beamed with delight. He had expected to spend the
+morning hoeing in the garden. He had been waiting the last half-hour for
+his father to call him and set him at work; but it was not the prospect
+of escaping a disagreeable task or of cantering along the road on the
+old blaze-faced horse that pleased him most. It was the fact that his
+mother and Maria regarded him as more trustworthy than Abe, and Abe was
+nearly grown.
+
+He had never before so completely appreciated his true worth nor felt
+such a sense of his own importance as when his mother entrusted him with
+the errand, and gave him a message for the doctor's wife. Maria's words
+of praise were still in his ears when he ran down the path, hitching up
+a broken suspender as he went.
+
+"What are you up to now?" inquired Abe, as Jimmy walked into the barn in
+a lordly way and took down the saddle.
+
+"Up to takin' a ride," answered Jimmy, in a way that nettled his older
+brother.
+
+"Not on that saddle, you ain't!" retorted Abe. "I'm goin' to mill."
+
+"Then you'll have to ride bareback," was the cool reply. "I'm goin' on
+an errand for mother, and, what's more, I'm goin' to have the saddle.
+Can't I, pa?" he asked, as his father came in.
+
+"No, Jimmy," answered his father, when both boys had stated the case.
+"Abe is bigger, and he's got the farthest to go."
+
+Abe laughed provokingly. "I don't care!" muttered Jimmy. "_You_ couldn't
+be trusted to do the errand. Mother said so. So you needn't laugh."
+
+Abe's face flushed. He knew his failing, and did not like to be reminded
+of it.
+
+"You can take Maria's side-saddle!" called Mr. Perkins, as he went on
+out to the corn-crib.
+
+"Better not," remarked Abe. "It's brand-new, and she'd feel awful bad if
+anything should happen to it. It might get spoiled."
+
+Jimmy did not want to take it, and had not intended to do so, but the
+spirit of contrariness seemed to have possession of him. That remark
+settled the matter. "You might spoil it," he said, "but I guess
+Maria'll trust me to bring it home safe, if I am ever so much smaller
+than you!"
+
+Presently, seated astride the new side-saddle, Jimmy rode up to the
+kitchen door.
+
+"You don't care if I take it, do you?" he called to Maria. She wrapped
+herself more closely in the heavy shawl, and came out into the warm
+sunshine, her teeth still chattering.
+
+"No, I guess not," she said, putting out her shaking hand to feel the
+soft plush of the cushioned seat. "Isn't that a pretty shade of red?
+It's the handsomest one in the township. Oh, don't forget, Jimmy; mother
+said to ask Doctor Spinner to put up another bottle of tonic like that
+he gave me last spring."
+
+"All right!" said Jimmy, impatient to be off.
+
+Digging his heels in old Blaze's sides, he started down the road on a
+gallop. This was too lively a gait for the old horse to sustain long,
+and she soon settled down to a steady walk.
+
+For the first half-mile Jimmy sat very erect, with a growing sense of
+his own importance and superiority over his brother Abe. Then he
+yielded to the gracious influence of the sweet spring morning, and,
+throwing one foot over the pommel of the saddle, began to whistle in
+answer to a redbird's call.
+
+Presently he tired of riding sidewise, and by the time he reached the
+field where the Fishback boys were dropping corn he was up on his knees.
+Inspired by spectators, he urged his horse to go faster and faster, and
+scrambling to his feet as he came up with them, passed them with a
+cheer. They stopped their work long enough to look after him and wave
+their hats until he disappeared around a bend in the road.
+
+"It's a mighty nice thing," he thought, complacently, "to be able to
+ride around the country this way, when everybody else has to work."
+
+By this time he had reached the bridge across Pigeon Creek. It was
+shallow enough to ford at this place, and he concluded to try it.
+Clattering down the bank, he rode into the water with a splash. Overhead
+the great branches of the sycamore-trees leaned across the stream and
+met each other. It was cool and shady, and so still that the only sound
+he could hear was the gurgling noise old Blaze made as she bent her
+head to drink.
+
+Suddenly a shrill whistle made him start so violently that he almost
+lost his balance, and clutched at the loosened bridle to save himself
+from falling. Looking in the direction of the whistle, he saw two big
+bare feet dangling from a sycamore limb that hung half-way across the
+stream. Glancing up, he saw the owner of the feet. It was Coon Mills,
+the laziest, most "trifling" fellow in that part of the country--so
+everybody said.
+
+There was no need to ask him what he was doing, when the white blossoms
+of the dog-wood-trees had been proclaiming for a week, from every hill
+and hollow, that the fishing season had begun. His luck as a fisherman
+was as proverbial as his laziness.
+
+"What have you got?" called Jimmy. For answer Coon held up a string of
+catfish, so large that Jimmy gave a long whistle.
+
+"I've jes' been a-pullin' 'em out as fast as I could throw in my line,"
+he said. "Thar hain't been nothin' like it sence ole Noah's time."
+
+"My! You must be a-seein' fun," said Jimmy, watching him enviously as
+he baited his hook and tossed it into the water. "Wouldn't I like to try
+it, though!"
+
+"Come on, if yer want ter," answered Coon. "Thar's another line in my
+basket, and you kin cut a pole from the sprouts agin that stump down
+yender."
+
+"I ought to be a-goin'. I've got an errand to do," answered Jimmy. "But
+I would like to haul in just one."
+
+"Oh, come on!" insisted Coon. "You can spare ten minutes, can't you?"
+
+There was an attractiveness about this overgrown, good-natured fellow
+that all the smaller boys found irresistible. Jimmy could have said "no"
+to any of his younger companions, but he was flattered by Coon's notice,
+and an invitation from him was a temptation beyond his strength to
+resist.
+
+A few minutes later old Blaze was tied to a sapling. Another pair of
+feet dangled from the sycamore limb, another line dipped into the water,
+and unbroken silence reigned again along the shady river.
+
+A quarter of an hour passed, but Jimmy, with his eyes intent on the
+bobbing cork, took no notice of the flight of time. Then a thrill went
+through him as he felt a pull on his line, and in his excitement he
+almost fell off his perch into the water.
+
+"It's the biggest fish of the season!" Coon declared, as he helped haul
+it in. "You're in luck, Jim; you'd better try it agin."
+
+Old Blaze gnawed the bark off the sapling as far as she could reach, and
+then stamped and whinnied in vain. Still Jimmy sat on the sycamore limb,
+confident of success after his first great triumph, and unable to tear
+himself away without one more trophy.
+
+Coon drew up his line at intervals, and each time Jimmy's determination
+to catch one more increased. The minutes slipped by, but he did not
+notice them, nor did he realize that the sun was nearly overhead.
+
+Suddenly, the unmistakable notes of a dinner-horn echoed through the
+woods. Startled into the consciousness that he had idled away the whole
+morning, Jimmy started for the bank in such haste that his feet slipped
+on the smooth bark, and he fell across the limb. He scrambled
+desperately around, and managed to draw himself up again, but in doing
+so lost his hold on the fish. He saw it go tumbling into the water.
+
+A hearty laugh from Coon followed him down the bank and along the road,
+as he galloped furiously away.
+
+Mrs. Spinner thought somebody must be dying or dead when she saw Jimmy
+come dashing up to the house in such haste, and hurried out to ask the
+news.
+
+"The doctor's just gone," she said, after he had told his errand, and
+delivered his mother's message. "He had a call down to old Mr.
+Wakeley's, and left in the middle of his dinner. Law me, it's too bad!
+You'd better wait, though. He'll likely not be gone very long. Come in
+and have something to eat, won't you?"
+
+Jimmy's inclination was to refuse, but his hunger overcame his
+bashfulness, and he followed Mrs. Spinner into the kitchen.
+
+She had already eaten her dinner, and kept on with her work, pausing
+often, in her busy going back and forth, to give him some dish, or
+hospitably urge him to help himself.
+
+"You'd better go into the office to wait," she said, as he pushed his
+chair back from the table. "The doctor'll surely be along pretty soon."
+
+The little room, standing by itself in the front yard, did double duty
+as office and drug-store. Jimmy sat down on the bench beside the door,
+and studied the odd assortment of bottles on the opposite shelves. He
+counted them and read all the labels. Then he saw a case of dentist's
+instruments lying on the table. He examined these curiously, fitting the
+forceps on each of his teeth, and then looked around for other sources
+of amusement.
+
+Several books with leather bindings lay on the desk, and he sat down to
+look at them. Books were few in the Perkins household, and the first one
+he opened proved very entertaining. It was an illustrated work on
+anatomy, and he was soon completely absorbed in the interesting pictures
+of bones and muscles.
+
+The afternoon was sultry and still. A few flies buzzed on the
+window-pane. Just outside the door an old hen clucked and scratched for
+her downy yellow brood. Jimmy could look out and see some one ploughing
+in a distant field, and hear a lusty voice at intervals, calling, "Gee!
+Haw! W'-o-a!" to the yoke of oxen.
+
+After a long while, when sitting so still had made him drowsy, he went
+to the door and looked up and down the road. No one was in sight. Even
+the sun had gone behind a cloud. He began to grow uneasy, as he thought
+of his mother waiting impatiently for the soda to begin her baking.
+
+"If the doctor isn't here by the time I finish looking at the books," he
+said to himself, "I'll go anyway, without waiting for Maria's medicine."
+
+He went back to his chair and turned to the pictures again. Presently he
+began to yawn. Then his eyelids drooped, and his head nodded so low that
+it rested on the open book upon the table. He knew nothing more until he
+felt Mrs. Spinner shaking him by the shoulder. He started up to find the
+little office nearly dark.
+
+"I plumb forgot all about you," Mrs. Spinner said, "until the doctor
+sent word he couldn't come home to-night. Old Mr. Wakeley's a-dying.
+You'd better hurry away, for there's a heavy thunder-storm coming up."
+
+She weighed out the soda and spices, wrapping each package separately,
+and then tied them together in one bundle. It was about the middle of
+the afternoon when Jimmy had gone to sleep. Now the sun had set. The sky
+was black with clouds, and as he hurriedly mounted his horse and tied
+the bundle to the horn of the saddle he heard a distant rumble of
+thunder. Old Blaze was as anxious to get home as her rider, and needed
+little urging to make her travel her fastest.
+
+They were going directly toward the storm. By the time they had
+travelled a mile and a half its full force was upon them. The wind blew
+furiously and whirled the dust along the road in blinding columns. It
+twisted and tossed the tall trees as easily as if they had been bushes.
+Great limbs swayed wildly, and now and then one crashed to the ground.
+Once, when she was a colt, old Blaze had been hit by a falling branch in
+a thunder-storm, and had never forgotten the terror of it. Now, as a
+vivid glare of lightning blinded her, she reared, plunged forward, and
+then stood trembling, with dilated eyes and quivering nostrils.
+
+They were in the midst of a thick wood. No amount of urging would induce
+the mare to go on, and Jimmy got down to lead her. Something of the
+horse's fear seemed to be communicated to the boy. He was naturally
+brave, but the ferocious power of the storm awed him into utter fear.
+
+The rain poured harder and harder. Jimmy was wet to the skin, and the
+water ran down in streams from his hat brim. He pushed ahead for a long
+time, wondering why he did not come to the creek. Instead of reaching
+open country, he seemed to be getting deeper into the woods. Then he
+remembered that two bridle-paths led into the main road--one directly
+into it, the other around the base of the hill. He had taken the wrong
+path and was travelling in a circle.
+
+By the time he reached his starting-point again the storm had abated.
+The wind did not blow so hard, and the thunder had gone growling away
+toward the eastern hills. He led the horse up to a stump, climbed into
+the saddle, and this time started on the right path homeward.
+
+As he rode down the lane a lantern glimmered in the dooryard and moved
+toward the barn. "Well, you _air_ a purty fellow!" called Abe's voice.
+"Mother's mighty nigh wild about you. She jest now sent me down to git
+a horse to go out and hunt you."
+
+Jimmy slid from the saddle without saying anything. When Abe saw how
+pale and wet he was, he added, in a kinder tone, "I'll put the horse up.
+You take your things and strike for the house."
+
+He lifted the lantern in order to see to untie the package, and then
+gave an exclamation of astonishment.
+
+"Well, I wisht you'd look! The rain has melted every bit of that soda.
+There's nothin' left but the bag. And the spice is all sp'iled, too. My
+gracious!" he added, after another look, "it's run down all over the
+saddle, and taken the colour out. My! Won't Maria be mad? It's eternally
+ruined! Well, I must say I like your way of doin' errands!"
+
+It was a very penitent, humble boy who crept into the kitchen and gave a
+shamefaced account of the day's doings. Maria, who had sat with her face
+hidden in her apron during the storm, shuddering at the thought that he
+might be out in it alone, ran to get him some dry clothes, without a
+word of reproach about the saddle.
+
+"I'll save enough out of the garden truck to get it re-cushioned," he
+promised. "Sure I will, Maria."
+
+But Maria gave him a little squeeze. "Don't you worry about that,
+Jimmy," she said, "so long as you got home safe. It don't make so much
+difference about the soda, either, for we got word this afternoon that
+the donation-party has been put off."
+
+His self-respect was restored by such a warm reception, and his spirits
+rose until he began to think he was something of a hero, after all. As
+he ate the supper his mother had been keeping hot for him, she and Maria
+listened sympathetically to his account of the storm.
+
+Abe, who had come in from the barn and was drying his boots by the fire,
+said nothing, but his quizzical smile was more provoking than words. It
+reminded Jimmy of the boastful speech he had made that morning.
+
+He grew red in the face, stopped talking, and soon made an excuse to
+slip away to bed. As he lay listening to the rain on the roof, he said
+to himself, "I wisht I hadn't bragged so about doin' errands better than
+Abe! He'll never be done a-hinting to me about soda and
+side-saddles!"
+
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY AT HARDYVILLE
+
+
+"BLAME that pig-headed Schmidt!"
+
+Squire Hardy was in the sitting-room talking to his wife. "To think of
+his kickin' just because the little schoolma'am is bound to celebrate
+the day! Her askin' for nothing except leave to use the schoolhouse!
+Confound him! The rest of the Germans'd be patriotic enough--they are
+all 'round these parts--if Schmidt wa'n't so everlastingly down on us,
+and used his influence with the rest!"
+
+"He's a well-meaning, peaceable neighbour, Hiram," said the squire's
+wife, placidly.
+
+"So's horses and cows. Gimme folks that's got some public spirit in 'em.
+Think of the men that took up the land all round these parts when we
+come in--all full of Fourth of July. I wisht they hadn't been so keen to
+sell out at a profit--that's the worst of us Americans. When they sold
+out, of course the Germans come in,--couldn't blame 'em a mite,--an'
+Schmidt he come fust, an' he bejuggled all the rest. An' he's pretty
+nigh bejuggled the Gateses and two or three other American families like
+'em, that's gettin' more like Schmidt year by year. Why, there ain't
+been a mite of public improvement done this ten year back."
+
+"Oh, now, Hiram, we've got the post-office."
+
+"Yes--much thanks to the rest of 'em! It was me worked and kicked and
+badgered till I got them a tri-weekly mail, and much use they make of
+it!"
+
+The squire gazed at the post-office as he spoke. It consisted of an ash
+"seketary" in one corner of the sitting-room, and was much more than
+commodious enough for the few letters and newspapers that came to
+Hardyville three times a week, brought from the county town, eight miles
+away, by a carrier with a gig. The squire was delivering his opinions as
+usual while waiting for the carrier to appear.
+
+"I don't rec'lect much public improvements ever bein' in Hardyville,"
+said Mrs. Hardy, drily.
+
+"There would 'a' been," said her husband, testily. "There would 'a' been
+if the Americans had kept on. To think of them beginning to sell out and
+move furder west--just as they were gettin' their land into shape for
+havin' some time to themselves to improve things! Thank goodness, they
+_did_ put up the church and schoolhouse--I guess we'd never have had
+neither if it wasn't for the American spirit here when this settlement
+begun."
+
+"Sho, Hiram? You can't say but what the German folks keeps the church
+and schoolhouse going."
+
+"Going--yes, going to rack and ruin all the same! Schoolhouse leakin'
+like sixty--and catch 'em taxin' themselves for a new roof! I wonder
+Miss Atworth can stay in the place--her and the children mirin'
+shoe-mouth deep in mud to get to school in the winter! Nary a rod of
+corduroy will they lay to give their own young ones a decent walk. But
+they keep their cattle comfortable enough--that means money in their
+pockets. All they care about is having their corn and stock turn out
+well. They don't care if the hull township, and the hull Union, too, for
+that matter, was to go to the dogs. Hello! here comes Jack with the
+mail-bag!"
+
+A little while later Squire Hardy was in the act of distributing the
+bag's small contents, when two farmers walked in without even stopping
+to stamp the mud off their cowhide boots. Mrs. Hardy kept on placidly
+knitting beyond the fireplace; she was used to such invasions of the
+sitting-room, from which she had removed the carpet soon after the
+post-office was granted to the sleepy settlement.
+
+"Draw up to the fire, Mr. Gates," she said, hospitably. "Take that
+rocker, Mr. Schmidt."
+
+Mr. Gates kicked his feet against the andirons to rid them of clay and
+snow.
+
+"Cold day," he remarked, settling his coon-skin cap more firmly on his
+head. "What's this I hear about the new teacher?"
+
+"Well, what?" snapped the squire, looking around.
+
+"Some say she's dead sot on gettin' up them doin's on Washington's
+Birthday."
+
+[Illustration: "MR. GATES KICKED HIS FEET AGAINST THE ANDIRONS"]
+
+"Well, s'pose she is?" said the squire. "She ain't askin' nothin' but
+the schoolhouse for an evening, and I've got power to let her have
+that. I'm school agent, ain't I?"
+
+"I don't say the contrary. But to my way of thinkin', she's just
+a-wastin' time over a lot of foolishness. Hey, Schmidt?"
+
+"Yah, das ist so!" assented the man in the rocking-chair, as he took his
+pipe from his mouth. "I tolt mein poy I shust dook him oudt of school
+and put him to voork ven I hear some more of dose grazy idees."
+
+"Crazy? Nothing crazy about it!" interrupted the old squire, hotly.
+"I'll just tell you, gentlemen, it was a mighty good deed old Abel
+Dawson quit teaching here. He'd run along in the same old rut for the
+last ten year, till things had just about dried up. I made a visit to
+'em last fall. I put some questions to the scholars, too. There wa'n't
+but four out of the hull of 'em that was exactly sure who the President
+of these United States was. Nary one could name the Vice-President!"
+
+"Dey lairn goot vot vos in de book," said Schmidt.
+
+"Yes!" roared the squire. "Abel stood over them with a rod, and
+frightened the spelling-book into 'em till they could say it off,
+back'ards or forrards. But they was like a lot of skeered parrots that
+didn't understand what they _was_ saying."
+
+"Dot vos more goot as learn 'em yoost foolishness--badriodism und der
+flag und all dot plab 'bout der country und der Union."
+
+"Look out, now, Schmidt! I ain't goin' to set still and hear you calling
+patriotism 'blab.' I tell you in only nine weeks Miss Atworth's got the
+poor little souls waked up. They never knew before that they _had_ a
+country. History and geography mean something to them now. She'll make
+intelligent citizens out of 'em if you'll keep your hands off. I'm out
+in my guess if she don't give this whole township a shakin' up before
+this thing is over, and teach 'em some public sperit."
+
+Mr. Gates gave a sniff. "They say she's had a piano hauled out from the
+city, too," he said. "Hope she don't intend to levy on the parents to
+pay for it. She'll get nothing out of me. I'll tell her that right now."
+
+"Shucks!" cried the squire, as he handed Schmidt his _Zeitung_. "Neither
+of _you_ needn't worry. She's too smart to expect to get blood out of
+turnips."
+
+"Vell, all I haf to say," was Schmidt's parting remark, as he wound his
+blue woollen muffler about his neck, "if she keeps on mit dose
+voolishness, I dake mein Karl oudt of school, right avay alretty. Dot
+vos better dot he voork as to vaste his time so."
+
+"Poor little Miss Atworth!" sighed Mrs. Hardy, as she watched the two
+men tramp off together. "I'm powerful glad she's boarding with us. The
+whole neighbourhood is down on her new-fangled ways. I'm going right out
+now and make something extry nice and hot for supper. It's pretty near
+sundown, and she'll come in soon all wore out with her day's work."
+
+The little teacher did need the good cheer and "extry nice" supper that
+awaited her in the cosy kitchen, for she had felt much discouraged as
+she trudged homeward through the falling snow. Her pupils had nearly all
+been telling her the same thing that day. It was that their parents
+scouted the idea of helping her to celebrate Washington's Birthday.
+
+She had come from a distant town to teach the Hardyville school in hope
+to lay up enough money to complete her art course; but now it seemed to
+her that something more important than art demanded her services and
+the small sum she had saved. The dull, colourless lives of the children
+appealed irresistibly to her sympathies, and she was often amazed at the
+utter absence of any spirit of patriotism.
+
+"How could the poor children learn patriotism?" said Mrs. Hardy. "Their
+parents don't feel it, except for their Vaterland. And certainly nothing
+has been done by the public round here to make the children love this
+country. Such lives! The parents get up before daylight, and dig till
+dark. They usually force the boys and girls to live like overworked
+horses. All they think of is making money. That big room up-stairs in
+the schoolhouse was built for a public hall. It has not been opened for
+fifteen years for any kind of an entertainment, not even a magic lantern
+show. It is the same old treadmill existence year in and year out. The
+children don't get their lives brightened--no public holidays are
+celebrated here, not even the Fourth of July. How can they love the
+country?"
+
+"I shall certainly give them something better," Miss Atworth had said,
+and the upshot was her determination to celebrate Washington's
+Birthday. The indifference or hostility of the parents had but roused
+her American spirit, even to the resolve that she would bear the entire
+expense herself, if none would contribute from their plenty.
+
+"Ten dollars," she reflected, "will buy decorations and material for
+costumes and stage curtains. Another ten will rent a piano. Most of the
+children have never even seen one. All my spare time must go to getting
+up the entertainment, and all my savings, too. Well, I'm glad--I guess I
+can give up so much for my country. It will be worth while if I can make
+its 'Father's' birthday the greatest gala day these poor little souls
+have ever known."
+
+Not a particle of encouragement did she get from any of the parents
+except Peter Dowling, a one-armed veteran of the Civil War, and he was
+much more discouraging than he meant to be.
+
+"Go on, I wish you luck, young lady," he would observe. "You can count
+on me for anything a one-armed man can do. But what's the use? I've
+tried and tried to get some 'Merican sentiment into these youngsters.
+'Tain't no go--and never will be. But you can count on me to hooray for
+you all the same. I'll be thar if nobody else is."
+
+"Maybe you tried to scold them into patriotism, as the squire does,"
+said the little teacher. "I don't think that's the best way."
+
+"It didn't work, anyhow," said the veteran, and walked away.
+
+Miss Atworth's programme, besides the decoration of the schoolhouse,
+comprised tableaux and the recitation of patriotic poems and addresses
+by her larger pupils. But most of the children soon received strict
+orders to hurry home at four o'clock, to attend to the milking and
+evening chores. They were also kept at work till the last possible
+minute in the morning. But with only noon-time and recess for practising
+their parts, her enthusiasm worked wonders.
+
+"It ought to be a grand success," said Miss Atworth, as she took a final
+approving survey of the decorations the afternoon of the twenty-first.
+"Only it's a little too warlike. I wish I had an old-fashioned
+pruning-hook to hang across that sword between the windows."
+
+"Mr. Schmidt has one," volunteered Sarah Gates. "But he's so mad about
+our wasting so much time, as he calls it, that it's as much as a
+fellow's head is worth to ask him for it. I heard him tell pa he was
+going to keep Karl at home to-morrow night. Isn't that mean?"
+
+"Keep Karl at home!" cried Miss Atworth, in dismay. "He couldn't be so
+mean as that!"
+
+Karl was the brightest pupil in her room--a big, manly boy of sixteen.
+He was kept at home every spring and fall to help with the work,
+although his father was not poor. She had taken an especial interest in
+him from the first, had drilled him carefully in his declamation, and
+counted on him as the star of the entertainment.
+
+"Pa wasn't going to let me come, either," continued Sarah, "till ma told
+him you'd picked me out of all the school to be the Goddess of Liberty,
+and that I was going to have a gold crown on, and gold stars spangled
+over my dress. Ma's awful proud because I was chosen to be a goddess."
+
+The little teacher smiled. She was not without worldly wisdom, and had
+given Sarah such a prominent part in the hope that it might conciliate
+the whole Gates family. Fortunately nothing was required of the goddess
+but long hair and a pretty face--about all Sarah had to boast of. She
+simply could not learn.
+
+Miss Atworth locked the door and started rapidly homeward. What should
+she do if Karl must be left out of the performance? A quarter of a mile
+brought her to the lane leading from the pike to the Schmidt place, and
+there she stopped with sudden resolve.
+
+"I'll beard that old lion in his den, and ask him for his pruning-hook.
+That will be an excuse for going, and will give me an opportunity to
+plead Karl's cause."
+
+It was nearly dark when Miss Atworth ran up the squire's front walk, and
+danced through the house into the kitchen.
+
+"Oh, such luck!" she cried, gaily. "I went to see Mr. Schmidt, and some
+good angel prompted me to speak to him in German. It was such bad
+German--perhaps that's what pleased him. Anyway it thawed him right out.
+He lent me his pruning-hook, and showed me over his big barn. Of course
+I admired his fine cattle, and then, as he got more and more pleased at
+my showing such an astonishing lot of sense, I praised Karl so highly
+that he made a complete surrender. He is coming to-morrow night to bring
+the whole Schmidt family, from the old _grossmutter_, to the baby.
+Hurrah for Washington's Birthday!"
+
+Never had the old public hall held such an astonished and delighted
+audience as the one that crowded into it that memorable night. Gay
+festoons of bunting, countless little flags, and wreaths of evergreen
+transformed the dingy old place completely.
+
+A large picture of Washington placidly beamed from its place of honour.
+Over and around it, reaching almost across the stage, was draped a great
+silken flag, borrowed for the occasion.
+
+Peter Dowling, in his old blue army clothes, with one sleeve pinned
+across his breast, sat far back, looking bewildered by the wonders the
+little teacher had accomplished.
+
+Miss Atworth had arranged the programme with great tact. Each child felt
+prominent, and those who, she secretly knew, would be failures in
+anything else, were honoured beyond measure when she skilfully grouped
+them into a series of effective historical tableaux.
+
+"It's enough to make even a graven image feel patriotic," whispered
+Squire Hardy to his wife, as the children's sweet voices made the room
+ring with the grand old national airs.
+
+Declamations followed each other in rapid succession. Then came a scene,
+with recitations, in which Uncle Sam and all the States of the Union
+took part. The very air seemed charged with the little teacher's
+electrical spirit of patriotic enthusiasm.
+
+It was at its height when Karl came forward to give the famous speech of
+Patrick Henry. His delivery was so much better than the rehearsals had
+led her to expect that even Miss Atworth was surprised. He seemed to
+find an inspiration in the crowd. A storm of applause followed the "Give
+me liberty or give me death."
+
+"What shall we do?" she whispered in dismay as the persistent clapping
+of many hands called him back. "I wish you had prepared for an encore."
+
+"Oh, I know!" said Karl, and in another instant was on the stage again.
+
+In the deep hush that followed, his clear, musical voice rose in German.
+He was reciting "_Mein Vaterland_." Old grandmothers who knew but a few
+words of English rocked themselves back and forth in excited delight;
+Mr. Schmidt beamed with vast smiles; many an eye grew dim, thinking of
+the old beloved home across the seas. But the boy was thinking of his
+own native country. There was no mistaking his meaning, as he turned in
+closing, to wave his hand toward the portrait and the flag:
+
+"My Fatherland!" he cried with true feeling, and then, after a moment of
+general surprise, deafening applause broke out.
+
+As it subsided Miss Atworth stepped forward to announce the last song,
+but Peter Dowling, his face aflame with new delight and old memories,
+rose, stalked up the aisle as if unconscious of all the eyes fixed on
+him, and swung himself up on the high platform with one long step.
+
+"Friends," he began, "I've been livin' kind of dead among ye for many's
+the year. Now I want to say a word or two. I ain't no great at
+speechifyin', but these old songs and pieces we've been a-listenin' to
+have spirited me up like the trumpet doos an old war-horse."
+
+As he spoke he waved the stump of his right arm so vigorously that the
+empty sleeve was torn from its pinning across his breast and flapped
+pathetically.
+
+"I want to say," he went on, "that I fit for that old flag, and yet,
+livin' here so long, and never a celebration for young or old, I'd half
+forgot my patriotism. It's our school-teacher has woke me up to seeing
+the truth. Now that we hev beat our swords into pruning-hooks, and peace
+has pitched her tent alongside ours to stay, I can't help thinking
+there's danger in settlin' down too comfortable and off gyard like.
+
+"This country," he raised his voice higher, "ain't teaching its children
+enough of the feelin' of patriotism. It takes the same kind of principle
+to make a good citizen that it doos a good soldier. It ought to be the
+very bone and sinew of every school in this whole land. I could talk all
+night on that subject, now I've got started. But what I want to say is
+this:
+
+"I propose that we all get out our pocket-books, and throw in to get a
+handsome flag to fly over this schoolhouse. Take an old soldier's word
+for it, there ain't no greater inspiration anywhere, to make a fellow
+put in his best licks, and come out on top. Now, Miss Teacher, I'll just
+get the sense of this meeting."
+
+He paused a moment, then turned to the audience: "All who want to
+express their thanks for this evening's entertainment, and are willing a
+collection should be took, say aye!"
+
+Such a storm of ayes followed, that Peter caught up his slouched hat and
+began to pass it around, with his only arm. Dimes and quarters clinked
+into it, while an occasional dollar showed how deeply selfish hearts had
+been stirred by the uplifting influences of the hour.
+
+Miss Atworth seated herself at the piano, and beckoned to the bewildered
+Goddess of Liberty to lead the States again across the stage. Some of
+the smaller ones straggled sadly out of line, but as Karl, at a nod from
+his teacher, caught the great flag from its place and stood with it in
+the midst of them, every voice rang out full and true on the chorus:
+
+    "Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys,
+     We'll rally once again,
+     Shouting the battle-cry of freedom!"
+
+People seemed loath to go when it was all over. They came up to the
+teacher with awkward expressions of pleasure and appreciation.
+
+"I'll never forget this night," drawled one faded, overworked woman, to
+whose eyes the rich colours and tinsel of the stage decorations had
+seemed a part of fairyland. "That music was so sweet, and my little Meta
+looked like a picture with her hair curled, and that beautiful dress on
+you made her. I really didn't know she was so pretty. I'm going to fix
+her up and get her a lot of nice things after this."
+
+"Well, it was worth while," said the little teacher, as she dropped into
+a chair at home, too tired to take off her wraps.
+
+"Indeed it was," answered the squire. "Jake Schneider's new patriotism
+rose so he said he'd put a walk on each side of the school for half a
+mile, even if nobody'd help him. Then a lot of 'em began to talk it
+over. The upshot was that old Schmidt is going to give the logs, and
+they're all going to work to-morrow to hew them off and stake them
+down."
+
+The next Monday morning Karl stopped at Miss Atworth's desk to say
+joyfully, "O teacher! father was so pleased. He is going to hire
+another hand and let me keep on till the end of the term."
+
+"Then I need never regret my sacrifice," thought the happy girl.
+
+That celebration was the beginning of better times in Hardyville. When
+the doors were barred for vacation, and the grass grew rank on the bare
+playground, the new flag still floated from the schoolhouse belfry.
+
+Many a boy catching sight of the glorious flag as he plodded through the
+furrows behind his plough, felt himself lifted beyond the bounds of his
+little horizon, to some great plane of endeavour where all great things
+were possible. Still those beckoning folds teach a silent lesson of
+loftier ideals, and a broader humanity to people whom the little teacher
+thrilled with her enthusiastic spirit.
+
+
+
+
+AN OLD DAGUERREOTYPE
+
+
+CALEB SPEED pushed back his chair from the dinner-table with anger and
+disgust in his face. The door had just banged behind a big, hearty boy
+of seventeen, whom he could still see through the narrow window trudging
+off toward the barn.
+
+The lively whistle that sounded through the closed windows seemed to
+aggravate the man's ill-temper. He walked over to the fireplace, and
+kicked the smouldering logs with his heavy boot.
+
+"If there's any one thing that riles me all over," he exclaimed,
+angrily, "it's having that boy always setting himself up to be in the
+right, and everybody else in the wrong!"
+
+"Well, he 'most generally is in the right," answered Caleb's wife,
+clearing the table. "It's remarkable what a memory Jerry has, 'specially
+for dates. At the quilting here last week the women folks were trying to
+settle when 'twas old Mis' Lockett died, and Jerry knew to the day. He
+said 'twas two days after Deacon Stone's cows were killed by lightning,
+and that happened on the thirteenth of September, just a hundred years
+to the very day after Wolfe captured Quebec. You can't trip Jerry up in
+history."
+
+"Well," answered her husband, impatiently, "he needn't be so sassy about
+it. We had a dispute over them same cows. I was telling the new minister
+about the storm, and I happened to say they was standing under a
+pine-tree. He chipped in, 'Why, no, it wasn't, uncle; it was an oak.'
+'It was a pine!' says I. 'No, it wasn't; it was an oak,' says he.
+
+"Just then Hiram Stone came by, and Jerry yelled to know which 'twas.
+Hiram said, 'Oak.' Then Jerry grinned as malicious, and said, 'I told
+you so! I knew I was right!' If he hadn't been my dead sister's only
+child and the minister looking on--" Caleb stopped in anger.
+
+Mrs. Speed made no comment. She was fond of her husband's nephew. He had
+grown to be almost like a son in the five years he had lived with them.
+They were not old--not many years older than Jerry; for Caleb's sister
+had been older than he.
+
+Mrs. Speed only laughed at the patronizing manners which he sometimes
+assumed, to the great annoyance of his young uncle. But Caleb Speed was
+too dogmatic himself to tolerate such a spirit in any one else.
+
+"He sha'n't sit up and contradict me at my own table!" Caleb declared.
+"I'll thrash him first! He's got to show me proper respect. He needn't
+think because I've given him advantages that I couldn't have myself,
+that he knows it all, and I don't know anything!"
+
+"Now, Caleb, what's the use? It's only Jerry's way," said Mrs. Speed,
+soothingly.
+
+"Dear me!" she sighed, as Caleb went to his work. "It's a pity they
+can't get along as they used to. Caleb's so touchy he can't stand
+anything. I must tell Jerry to be more careful."
+
+But when Jerry came in to supper and began his lively joking, she forgot
+the little lecture she had planned.
+
+"The Spencers are going to move West next week," remarked Mr. Speed.
+"Land's cheap, and I guess they need more elbow-room for such a big
+family. Greenville is a mighty thriving place, they say."
+
+"You mean Grandville, don't you, uncle?" suggested Jerry.
+
+"I generally say what I mean, young man!" was the curt reply.
+
+"Well, it's Grandville, anyway!" persisted Jerry, feeling in his
+pockets. "Jack Spencer is out there now. I got a letter from him
+yesterday begging me to go out there to him. Oh, here it is! Look at the
+postmark. It _is_ Grandville! I knew I was right about it."
+
+Nettled by the tone and his own mistake, Mr. Speed finished his supper
+in moody silence. The boy had no idea how his habit had grown, or how
+sensitive his uncle had become in regard to it. "Why, Aunt Lucy," he
+insisted, when she remonstrated with him, "I never contradict people
+unless I know positively that they are wrong!"
+
+"Maybe," she answered. "But what real difference does it make whether
+the weasels killed five chickens or six, or that it was the black pig
+and not the spotted one that rooted up the garden? Those are such little
+things to bicker about, just for the satisfaction of saying, 'I told you
+so!'"
+
+She imitated Jerry's tone and manner so well that he laughed a little
+sheepishly.
+
+"Well, I'll turn over a new leaf," he promised, "just to please you."
+
+Caleb Speed's farm was in southern Maine, near the coast. Jerry had
+grown up with the sound of the sea in his ears. It had long sung only a
+meaningless monotone to the boy, but it had begun to fill him with
+something of its own restless spirit. And about this time the Spencer
+boys were urging him to go West.
+
+"No," he answered; "I owe it to Uncle Caleb to stay here. He was too
+good to me when I was a little shaver for me to leave him now when he
+needs me. He shall have the best service I can give him until I am
+twenty-one; then I'll be free to follow you."
+
+But there came a crisis. Uncle Caleb gave Jerry a sum of money to pay a
+bill in town. There was a five-dollar piece in a roll of bills, and the
+gold-piece had disappeared.
+
+Jerry insisted that he could not have had the money. "I _know_, Aunt
+Lucy. Uncle Cale handed me the roll of bills, and I put it down in this
+pocket, and never touched it till I got to town. When I took it out
+there were the bills just as he had handed them to me, and not a thing
+more."
+
+"Maybe there's a hole in your pocket," she suggested.
+
+She turned it wrong side out, but found no place where a coin could have
+slipped through.
+
+"Well, it's a mystery where it went," she said. "I can't understand it."
+
+"Pooh! It's no mystery," answered Jerry, contemptuously. "Uncle simply
+didn't give it to me. He thought he had rolled it up in the bills, but
+was mistaken. That's all!"
+
+"What do you mean by that?" cried Caleb, jumping up white with anger. "I
+tell you it _was_ wrapped up in the bills, and if you can't account for
+it, you've either lost it or spent it!"
+
+Jerry bounded up-stairs to his room, stuffed his best suit of clothes
+into a little brown carpet-bag, and then poured out the contents of an
+old, long-necked blue vase. He had thirty dollars saved toward buying a
+horse of his own. Then he marched defiantly down-stairs to his uncle.
+
+"I never saw or touched your gold-piece," he declared, "but I'll not go
+away leaving you to say that I took any of your money!"
+
+He threw down a five-dollar bill and started to the door. As he turned
+the knob, he looked back at the woman by the fireplace, with her face in
+her apron.
+
+"Good-bye, Aunt Lucy," he said, with a choke in his voice. "You've been
+awful good to me--I'll never forget that!"
+
+Then he shut the door abruptly, and went out into the night. It lacked
+only five minutes of train-time when he reached the station, determined
+to go to a cousin of his father's who lived in Vermont, and write from
+there to Jack Spencer that he would work his way out West as soon as he
+could.
+
+Tingling with the recollection of his uncle's reproaches, the boy sat up
+very straight and wide-awake in the train for a long time. Then his
+tension relaxed, and for lack of something else to do, he felt in his
+pocket for Jack Spencer's letter. As he pulled it from its envelope
+something else fell into his hand. It was a gold-piece.
+
+He could scarcely believe his eyes as he sat dropping it from one hand
+into another. How had the coin got into the letter. For a time he could
+not guess; then the truth suddenly became clear to him.
+
+The letter had been in his breast-pocket when he stuffed the roll of
+bills into it, and the coin must have slipped into the open end of the
+envelope as he pushed the bills down. When he began to search for the
+money he had changed the letter to another pocket, never dreaming that
+it contained anything except Jack's glowing description of prairie-life.
+
+Jerry had been keeping his anger warm all the way by telling himself
+that his uncle had been harsh and unjust. He had even pictured to
+himself with grim satisfaction how shamefaced Caleb would look sometime
+when he should come across the coin among his own possessions. And now
+he had to think of himself as the blunderer and the unjust, foolish
+person.
+
+But now no apology could be too humble. He would get off at the next
+station and take the first train home. The case called for an immediate
+reconciliation.
+
+Then he reasoned that as he had paid for his ticket, he might as well go
+on to his journey's end and have a short visit. It would be easier,
+perhaps, to write than to speak his apology.
+
+Jerry soon found his elderly cousin, Tim Bailey, who happened to be
+working just then in a new store--a combination of a book-store and an
+old-fashioned daguerreotype gallery; not old-fashioned then, for it was
+before the photograph had penetrated to the rural regions. Tim's
+rigorous cross-questioning soon drew the whole story from the boy.
+
+"Well, that's easily settled," said Tim. "Just you write to 'em and own
+up, and say you're going to stop with me over Christmas, but that you'll
+be along about New Year to turn over a new leaf. They'll bring out the
+fatted calf when you get back. I know Caleb like a book. He can't hold
+spite."
+
+Jerry settled himself to write the letter. But he found himself hard to
+please, and tore up several drafts. Writing apologies was not such easy
+work, after all! Then Tim put his grizzled head in at the door, with a
+beaming smile.
+
+"Look here, boy, I've got an idee! The picture business is dull this
+morning. Go up and get yours took. You can send it along for a Christmas
+gift. Sha'n't cost you a cent, either. I get all my work done gratis,
+for sending him so much trade."
+
+Three days after, Jerry dropped into the post-office a little package
+addressed to his uncle, containing, besides a letter, an excellent
+likeness of himself. Jerry made in the letter a straightforward
+acknowledgment of his mistake, and accompanied this manly apology with
+an earnest request to be allowed to return home.
+
+He had grown so homesick for a sight of the old place that he could
+scarcely see the lines on his paper. And Aunt Lucy--well, he almost
+broke down at the thought of all her motherly kindness to him.
+
+"Now I'll surely get an answer by Wednesday," he thought, but Wednesday
+went by, and another week passed, and although he called regularly at
+the post-office, no word came.
+
+"Well, I've done all I could," he said. "It's plain they don't want me
+back."
+
+Tim's sympathetic old heart ached for the boy's distress. He even
+offered to go up to the farm and intercede in his behalf.
+
+"No indeed!" Jerry answered, defiantly. "I'll never beg my way back. I'm
+not the kind to go where I'm not wanted."
+
+"Maybe they never got your letter."
+
+Jerry hooted at the idea. "No, they don't want to make up. That's the
+long and the short of it."
+
+When he finally started West, Tim Bailey went with him. Out on the far
+Western prairies, Jerry struck deep root in the favourable soil, and as
+the years passed on, became as much of a fixture as the new town that
+bore his name. Year after year he worked on, widening his fields,
+improving his buildings, working early and late, solely for the pleasure
+of accumulating.
+
+Tim Bailey had grown old and rheumatic, almost childish, but he still
+assumed a sort of guardianship over Jerry. One day he put down his
+newspaper, wiped his spectacles, and scanned the rough, burly-looking
+man on the other side of the stove, as if he had been a stranger.
+
+"Look here, Jerry," he said presently, "you're getting to look old, and
+your hair's all a-turning gray. Now you've got to quit pegging away so
+hard and take a holiday, before you get like me, so stiff and rheumatic
+you can't get away. Why don't you go to the World's Fair? It 'ud be a
+burning shame for the richest man in Trigg County to miss such a show."
+
+Thus it came about that one day Jerry rubbed his eyes in a bewildered
+way to find himself in the midst of a surging crowd that thronged the
+entrances of the Fair.
+
+He plodded along the Midway Plaisance, his umbrella under his arm and
+his hands in his pockets; he walked and stared till late in the
+afternoon. It was late in May, the spring ploughing had been a good
+preparation in pedestrianism, but the long furrows, enlivened only by
+the pipe of a quail or the cry of a catbird, had never brought such
+weariness as Jerry felt now.
+
+He did not realize he was so tired until he dropped into a seat in one
+of the gondolas on the lagoon, and remarked confidentially to the
+gondolier that he was "clean beat out."
+
+It was the first time Jerry had spoken since he entered the grounds. The
+man made no reply.
+
+He studied the fellow keenly a moment, and then turned to the crowds,
+surging along the banks in every direction. Not a soul in all that
+multitude even knew his name.
+
+A feeling of utter loneliness crept over him, and when the boat landed
+he was saying to himself that he would give the finest colt in his
+pastures for the sight of a familiar face.
+
+A few steps farther, and he saw one. It was in the government building,
+where an amused crowd was exclaiming over the Dead Letter Exhibit. Jerry
+edged along in front of the case, wondering at the variety of
+shipwrecked cargoes that had drifted into this government haven.
+
+A vague pity stirred in him for all the hopes that had gone into the
+grave of the dead letter office--rings that had never found the fingers
+they were to have clasped, gifts that might have unlocked long silences,
+tokens of friendship that were never received, never acknowledged--all
+caught in this snarled web that no human skill could possibly unravel.
+
+Then he saw the familiar face. It smiled out at him from the case of an
+old daguerreotype, till his heart began to beat so hard that he glanced
+guiltily around, to see if any one else heard it. The blood rushed to
+his head, and he felt dizzy.
+
+It was that picture of himself, taken so long ago up in Vermont! He was
+not likely to be mistaken in it--the only picture he had ever had taken
+in his life.
+
+He chuckled as he recalled the anxious oiling he had given the curly
+hair to make it lie flat, the harrowing hesitation over his necktie, the
+borrowing of the watch-chain that stood out in such bold relief against
+his brocaded vest. How quaint and old-fashioned it looked!
+
+He passed his hand over his grizzled beard with a sigh, for the smooth,
+boyish face was not all he saw. It brought back the whole faded past so
+overwhelmingly that for awhile he forgot where he was.
+
+Thirty-three years since he had dropped that little package in the
+office! He did not question why the letter had gone astray. He had lost
+his boyish faith in his own infallibility. He had probably mailed it
+with only half the address, perhaps none.
+
+Now he was a boy again, back in Maine. Aunt Lucy's knitting-needles
+clicked in the firelight. Uncle Caleb was making him a sled. How warm
+and comfortable the kitchen felt, and how good Aunt Lucy's doughnuts
+tasted!
+
+The crowds jostled him. He stood as if grown to the spot, until a
+sharp-nosed woman elbowed her way in front of him, to see what
+interested him. She looked inquisitively from the picture to the
+weather-beaten face above her, and passed on, none the wiser. There was
+little likeness between the two.
+
+Her penetrating glances aroused him. He came to himself with a start,
+looked hastily around, and then set out from the building, heedless of
+direction. A keen, raw wind struck him as he strode along the lake
+shore. He shivered and turned up his coat collar.
+
+A drizzling mist of rain began to fall. People going by with their
+umbrellas up looked at him curiously as he plodded along with his own
+umbrella under his arm.
+
+Soon a heavy dash of rain aroused him to the necessity of finding
+immediate shelter. A group of State buildings was just ahead. Glancing
+up he saw the name of his native State on one, and hurried in.
+
+A great log heap blazed and crackled in the huge fireplace, filling the
+room with a glowing comfort that warmed him, soul and body. He drew a
+chair close up to it, and spread his chilly fingers to the flames.
+
+The sticks against the forelog burnt to embers and fell into the ashes.
+The crane seemed to swing backward like a great finger, pointing to the
+past, as he sat and stared into the fire.
+
+People passing through the room saw only a rough old farmer, his clumsy
+boots stretched out on the hearth. They never dreamed of the scenes that
+passed before him in the fire. There were glimpses of snow-covered pine
+woods, of sparkling trout-streams gurgling in the June sunshine, of long
+stretches of level sea-sands where the tide crawled in.
+
+The old homesickness waked again. What had they thought of him through
+all these silent years? He wondered how they would receive his
+long-delayed apology. He must write as soon as he got back to the hotel.
+
+The rain had stopped. He stood up and shook himself, then went
+out-doors again, pulling his beard meditatively, as he walked toward the
+gate. It seemed a week since he had entered it.
+
+Outside, while he waited for a car, he kept poking the end of his
+umbrella savagely into a crack in the pavement. As he swung himself to
+the platform of a passing car, he turned back for another look at the
+domes and towers inside the gates.
+
+It was his last look. He had seen enough. He was going back to Uncle
+Caleb and Aunt Lucy.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+COSY CORNER SERIES.
+
+
+      It is the intention of the publishers that this series
+      shall contain only the very highest and purest
+      literature,--stories that shall not only appeal to the
+      children themselves, but be appreciated by all those
+      who feel with them in their joys and sorrows,--stories
+      that shall be most particularly adapted for reading
+      aloud in the family circle.
+
+      The numerous illustrations in each book are by
+      well-known artists, and each volume has a separate
+      attractive cover design.
+
+  Each, 1 vol., 16mo, cloth      $0.50
+
+
+_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_
+
+The Little Colonel.
+
+The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small
+girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied
+resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and
+old family are famous in the region. This old Colonel proves to be the
+grandfather of the child.
+
+The Giant Scissors.
+
+This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France,--the
+wonderful house with the gate of The Giant Scissors, Jules, her little
+playmate, Sister Denisa, the cruel Brossard, and her dear Aunt Kate.
+Joyce is a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes
+shares with her the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the
+"Holidays."
+
+
+Two Little Knights of Kentucky, WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS.
+
+In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but
+with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of
+the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights."
+
+
+Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.
+
+The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn
+of the issue of this volume for young people, written in the author's
+sympathetic and entertaining manner.
+
+
+Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.
+
+A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys
+and most girls.
+
+
+Big Brother.
+
+A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, himself a small
+boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale, the pathos
+and beauty of which has appealed to so many thousands.
+
+
+Ole Mammy's Torment.
+
+"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern
+life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells
+how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.
+
+
+The Story of Dago.
+
+In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey,
+owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the account
+of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing.
+
+
+_By EDITH ROBINSON_
+
+A Little Puritan's First Christmas.
+
+A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented
+by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother
+Sam.
+
+
+A Little Daughter of Liberty.
+
+The author's motive for this story is well indicated by a quotation from
+her introduction, as follows:
+
+"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution,
+the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is
+another ride,--untold in verse or story, its records preserved only in
+family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of Anthony Severn was no less
+historic in its action or memorable in its consequences."
+
+
+A Loyal Little Maid.
+
+A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the
+child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George
+Washington.
+
+
+A Little Puritan Rebel.
+
+Like Miss Robinson's successful story of "A Loyal Little Maid," this is
+another historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the gallant
+Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.
+
+
+A Little Puritan Pioneer.
+
+The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at
+Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds another to the list of
+favorites so well known to the young people.
+
+
+A Little Puritan Bound Girl.
+
+A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to
+youthful readers.
+
+
+_By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramee)_
+
+
+=A Dog of Flanders=: A CHRISTMAS STORY.
+
+Too well and favorably known to require description.
+
+
+The Nuernberg Stove.
+
+This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price.
+
+
+A Provence Rose.
+
+A story perfect in sweetness and in grace.
+
+
+Findelkind.
+
+A charming story about a little Swiss herdsman.
+
+
+_By MISS MULOCK_
+
+
+The Little Lame Prince.
+
+A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means of
+the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.
+
+
+Adventures of a Brownie.
+
+The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but is
+a constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him.
+
+
+His Little Mother.
+
+Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant source of
+delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in this new and attractive
+dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers.
+
+
+Little Sunshine's Holiday.
+
+An attractive story of a summer outing. "Little Sunshine" is another of
+those beautiful child-characters for which Miss Mulock is so justly
+famous.
+
+
+_By JULIANA HORATIA EWING_
+
+
+Jackanapes.
+
+A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and touching
+story, dear alike to young and old.
+
+
+Story of a Short Life.
+
+This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. It is a part of
+the world's literature, and will never die.
+
+
+A Great Emergency.
+
+How a family of children prepared for a great emergency, and how they
+acted when the emergency came.
+
+
+The Trinity Flower.
+
+In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing's best short
+stories for the young people.
+
+
+Madam Liberality.
+
+From her cradle up Madam Liberality found her chief delight in giving.
+
+
+_By FRANCES MARGARET FOX_
+
+
+The Little Giant's Neighbours.
+
+A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbours were the
+creatures of the field and garden.
+
+
+Farmer Brown and the Birds.
+
+A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best
+friends.
+
+
+Betty of Old Mackinaw.
+
+A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little
+readers who like stories of "real people."
+
+
+Mother Nature's Little Ones.
+
+Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood,"
+of the little creatures out-of-doors.
+
+
+_By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE_
+
+
+The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.
+
+This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will appeal to
+all that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful and
+piquant style.
+
+
+The Fortunes of the Fellow.
+
+Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of "The Farrier's Dog
+and His Fellow" will welcome the further account of the "Adventures of
+Baydaw and the Fellow" at the home of the kindly smith among the Green
+Hills of Tennessee.
+
+
+_By FRANCES HODGES WHITE_
+
+
+Helena's Wonderworld.
+
+A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the mysterious
+regions beneath the sea.
+
+
+Aunt Nabby's Children.
+
+This pretty little story, touched with the simple humor of country life,
+tells of two children, who, adopted by Aunt Nabby, have also won their
+way into the affections of the village squire.
+
+
+_By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT_
+
+
+The Prince of the Pin Elves.
+
+A fascinating story of the underground adventures of a sturdy, reliant
+American boy among the elves and gnomes.
+
+
+The Water People.
+
+A companion volume and in a way a sequel to "The Prince of the Pin
+Elves," relating the adventures of "Harry" among the "water people."
+While it has the same characters as the previous book, the story is
+complete in itself.
+
+
+_By OTHER AUTHORS_
+
+
+=The Flight of Rosy Dawn.= By PAULINE BRADFORD MACKIE.
+
+The Christmas of little Wong Jan, or "Rosy Dawn," a young Celestial of
+San Francisco, is the theme of this pleasant little story.
+
+
+=Susanne.= By FRANCES J. DELANO.
+
+This little story will recall in sweetness and appealing charm the work
+of Kate Douglas Wiggin and Laura E. Richards.
+
+
+=Millicent in Dreamland.= By EDNA S. BRAINERD.
+
+The quaintness and fantastic character of Millicent's adventures in
+Dreamland have much of the fascination of "Alice in Wonderland," and all
+small readers of "Alice" will enjoy making Millicent's acquaintance.
+
+
+=Jerry's Reward.= By EVELYN SNEAD BARNETT.
+
+This is an interesting and wholesome little story of the change that
+came over the thoughtless imps on Jefferson Square when they learned to
+know the stout-hearted Jerry and his faithful Peggy.
+
+
+=A Bad Penny.= By JOHN T. WHEELWRIGHT.
+
+No boy should omit reading this vivid story of the New England of 1812.
+
+
+=Gatty and I.= By FRANCES E. CROMPTON.
+
+The small hero and heroine of this little story are twins, "strictly
+brought up." It is a sweet and wholesome little story.
+
+
+=Prince Yellowtop.= By KATE WHITING PATCH.
+
+A pretty little fairy tale.
+
+
+=The Little Christmas Shoe.= By JANE P. SCOTT-WOODRUFF.
+
+A touching story of Yule-tide.
+
+
+=The Little Professor.= By IDA HORTON CASH.
+
+A quaint tale of a quaint little girl.
+
+
+=The Seventh Daughter.= By GRACE WICKHAM CURRAN.
+
+One of the best stories for little girls that has been published for a
+long time.
+
+
+=The Making of Zimri Bunker=: A TALE OF NANTUCKET. By W. J. LONG, Ph. D.
+
+This is a charming story of Nantucket folk by a young clergyman who is
+already well known through his contributions to the _Youth's Companion_,
+_St. Nicholas_, and other well-known magazines. The story deals with a
+sturdy American fisher lad, during the war of 1812.
+
+
+=The King of the Golden River=: A LEGEND OF STIRIA. By JOHN RUSKIN.
+
+Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally intended for
+publication, this little fairy tale soon became known and made a place
+for itself.
+
+
+=Little Peterkin Vandike.= By CHARLES STUART PRATT.
+
+The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming story:
+
+"I dedicate this book, made for the amusement (and perchance
+instruction) of the boys who may read it, to the memory of one boy, who
+would have enjoyed as much as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party,
+but who has now marched out of the ranks of boyhood."
+
+
+=Rab and His Friends.= By Dr. JOHN BROWN.
+
+Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known to need description.
+The dog Rab is loved by all.
+
+
+=The Adventures of Beatrice and Jessie.= By RICHARD MANSFIELD.
+
+The story of two little girls who were suddenly transplanted into the
+"realms of unreality," where they met with many curious and amusing
+adventures.
+
+
+=A Child's Garden of Verses.= By R. L. STEVENSON.
+
+Mr. Stevenson's little volume is too well known to need description. It
+will be heartily welcomed in this new and attractive edition.
+
+
+=Little King Davie.= By NELLIE HELLIS.
+
+The story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make many boys
+thankful they are not in the same position. Davie's accident, hospital
+experiences, conversion, and subsequent life, are of thrilling interest.
+
+
+=The Sleeping Beauty.= A MODERN VERSION. By MARTHA B. DUNN.
+
+This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, intellectually
+"asleep" until she meets the "Fairy Prince," reminds us of "Ouida" at
+her best.
+
+
+=The Young Archer.= By CHARLES E. BRIMBLECOM.
+
+A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied Columbus on his
+voyage to the New World. His loyalty and services through vicissitudes
+and dangers endeared him to the great discoverer, and the account of his
+exploits will be interesting to all boys.
+
+
+=The Fairy of the Rhone.= By A. COMYNS CARR.
+
+Here is a fairy story indeed, one of old-fashioned pure delight. It is
+most gracefully told, and accompanied by charming illustrations.
+
+
+=A Small Small Child.= By E. LIVINGSTON PRESCOTT.
+
+"A Small Small Child" is a moving little tale of sweet influence, more
+powerful than threats or punishments, upon a rowdy of the barracks.
+
+
+=Peggy's Trial.= By MARY KNIGHT POTTER.
+
+Peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose rebellion from a
+mistaken notion of loyalty, and her subsequent reconciliation to the
+dreaded "new mother," are most interestingly told.
+
+
+=For His Country.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful Joe," etc.
+
+A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country;
+written with that charm which has endeared Miss Saunders to hosts of
+readers.
+
+
+=La Belle Nivernaise.= THE STORY OF AN OLD BOAT AND HER CREW. By
+ALPHONSE DAUDET.
+
+All who have read it will be glad to welcome an old favorite, and new
+readers will be happy to have it brought to their friendly attention.
+
+
+=Wee Dorothy.= By LAURA UPDEGRAFF.
+
+A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the eldest, a
+boy, for his sister being its theme and setting. With a bit of sadness
+at the beginning, the story is otherwise bright and sunny, and
+altogether wholesome in every way.
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
+
+
+=The Little Colonel Stories.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
+
+Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "The
+Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of Kentucky," and "The Giant
+Scissors," put into a single volume, owing to the popular demand for a
+uniform series of the stories dealing with one of the most popular of
+juvenile heroines.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated  $1.50
+
+
+=The Little Colonel's House Party.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
+Illustrated by Louis Meynell.
+
+  One vol., library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover      $1.50
+
+
+=The Little Colonel's Holidays.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated
+by L. J. Bridgman.
+
+  One vol., large 12mo, cloth, decorative cover      $1.50
+
+
+=The Little Colonel's Hero.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated by
+E. B. Barry.
+
+One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative,
+
+  $1.20 _net_ (postage extra)
+
+
+=The Little Colonel at Boarding School.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
+Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
+
+  1 vol., large 12mo, cloth      $1.20 _net_ (postage extra)
+
+Since the time of "Little Women," no juvenile heroine has been better
+beloved of her child readers than Mrs. Johnston's "Little Colonel." Each
+succeeding book has been more popular than its predecessor, and now
+thousands of little readers wait patiently each year for the appearance
+of "the new Little Colonel Book."
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES
+
+
+The most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child-life in
+other lands, filled with quaint sayings doings, and adventures.
+
+Each 1 vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six full-page
+illustrations in color by L. J. Bridgman.
+
+  Price per volume      $0.50 _net_, postpaid $0.56
+
+      "Juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and
+      instruction out of Mary Hazelton Wade's Little Cousin
+      Series. . . . Pleasing narratives give pictures of the
+      little folk in the faraway lands in their duties and
+      pleasures, showing their odd ways of playing,
+      studying, their queer homes, clothes, and
+      playthings. . . . The style of the stories is all that
+      can be desired for entertainment, the author
+      describing things in a very real and delightful
+      fashion."--_Detroit News-Tribune._
+
+
+_By MARY HAZELTON WADE_
+
+    =Our Little Swiss Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Norwegian Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Italian Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Siamese Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Cuban Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Hawaiian Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Eskimo Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Philippine Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Porto Rican Cousin.=
+    =Our Little African Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Japanese Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Brown Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Indian Cousin.=
+    =Our Little Russian Cousin.=
+
+
+_By ISAAC HEADLAND TAYLOR_
+
+    =Our Little Chinese Cousin.=
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Repeated story titles were deleted.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories, by
+Annie Fellows Johnston and W. L. Taylor
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER ***
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